#I’m sure some of you have been in familiar situations

[copperbadge]

i was thinking of you the other day and your discussions of your ability or lack thereof to visualize things in your mind, because someone asked me who all had been at a gathering, and i answered them by calling up the room in my memory and looking around it to see who was there. and it occurred to me after the fact that i suppose probably not everyone can do that? but i could even tell you at least approximately what everyone was wearing (color, cut, maybe not precise pattern, but the general style, sure). and while i can’t swear to you that it’s 100% accurate because i don’t have a picture to compare it to, i think it’s pretty close.

but now i’m curious - what would your thought process be if you were asked the same question? if you can’t just look around the room in your mind, is the memory interaction-based? or like… voices you remember hearing? or something else?

Well, bear in mind that I haven't got a great memory to begin with -- possibly the ADHD at work, but also there's a condition that's frequently comorbid with aphantasia called Severely Deficient Autobiographical Memory -- people with SDAM have trouble recalling huge chunks of their lives and when they do have recall they often remember it as if they'd been told it, they have no emotional sense attached. For example, I remember a trip I took where I had to do some hard shit and it was really scary, but I don't remember the feeling of being scared, I just remember that I was. I have no idea how long the trip was, no memory of the hotel room, very little memory of doing the scary thing. I know I did it, but there's not a lot of attachment there.

This is not ALWAYS the case -- for example I have extremely fond memories of certain other trips -- but I don't really seem to be able to switch it on or off. Like when I was in Europe, I stayed in an AirBNB in London, but by the time I got to Rome like, five days later, I couldn't remember what it was like. I ended up spending a little time one evening kind of calling up memories of where I stayed in London and in Paris to try and hard-code them into my memory, and that worked, but I also needed the help of photos and tumblr posts I'd made to achieve it. ("What did it even look like? Well -- wait, I cooked some pizzas in the microwave while I was there. The microwave was on the counter, opposite the bed, and -- oh, okay, I remember now.")

So like, I would have no goddamn idea of the majority of people at any given gathering where I attended, but is that SDAM, ADHD, a function of my anxiety in social situations, or the aphantasia? Difficult to say.

I hosted a get-together on Sunday and because I was host and there weren't that many people in attendance I could name them off, but I couldn't tell you what they wore. The last party I attended, a week or two previously, was at a friend's house and it was mostly folks I was at least passingly familiar with, but I am bad with names and so couldn't NAME a lot of the people there -- but for example I could say "Well, the hosts were there, and I spoke with X, Y, and Z, so they were definitely there, but I also spoke with like four other people whose names I didn't get. I dunno what any of them were wearing even though it was a costume party." But yeah to even come up with that I would have to think about when I arrived, walk myself through whatever I remember of the event in linear order, and just note down who I spoke with. If I didn't speak with them, or if I didn't know them well, they didn't exist for me.

So I guess the answer is that my memory isn't visual and also just kinda...isn't there a lot of the time. It's not like amnesia, or the profound brain damage you read about where the person only remembers the last ten minutes or doesn't remember anything past a certain date in their life, but I just haven't got much memory for things. It's why I use a lot of lists and spreadsheets and make yearly photobooks.

My photo archive on my computer goes back to about 1998, and it's sorted by year, but the top level folder all the years are stored in is simply titled "Where I've Been" 'cause I probably wouldn't remember, otherwise.

[pattypanini]

Sam Kiszka x Reader  Temptations

Summary: After a concert with your shitty boyfriend, a trip backstage with Sam doesn't seem too bad?

Word Count: 7.5k

Taglist for Oneshots

A/N: First off, we are veryyyy sorry. Marley and I have had the busiest summers everrr. But we are back at school! Which means we can grind on this tumblr account again! We started this during the summer and just have now finished it, along with LAYLOM and many more one shots which we plan on posting. We hope you take this one shot as an apology. Expect more to come very soon!!!! Love, Sam and Marley <3

Warnings: 18+, Slight cheating (this will not be for everyone) SMUT, penetrative sex, fingering, degrading, hickeys, dirty talk, slight submissive/dom, flirting, slapping, mentions of pregnancy, slight coercion.

PRECEDE WITH CAUTION. THIS IS NOT FOR EVERYONE!

Y/N's POV

It was your boyfriend’s idea to go out tonight. He said something about “being in a new city and having to hit up all the hot spots”. But you couldn’t really care less. You were more excited about the concert you two would be attending tomorrow. But him being the sweetest boy he is, you caved and somehow ended up in this random bar in Charleston.

You are sitting beside your boyfriend, Lucas, at the barstools lining the bar sipping on a margarita. You fiddle with the hem of your floral sundress, just barely paying attention to Lucas’s aimless chatter. You weren’t bored per say, but you’d rather be cuddled up in the hotel room watching some cheesy movie. 

“You excited for the concert tomorrow?” Lucas asks after taking a sip of his beer, a smile plastered across his tanned face. He runs his hand through his chestnut hair, gorgeous blue eyes piercing right through you. Man, are you lucky. Even after a rocky year and a half this man still somehow manages to give you butterflies. 

“Of course I am. I have been looking forward to it for the past six months.” Six excruciatingly long months of waiting. You take another sip of your drink before continuing, “Thank you for buying the tickets, honey.” You smile at him, reaching your hand out to rub his arm.

He had purchased the tickets as an anniversary gift, and it was arguably one of the best presents you had ever received, seeing that most of his gifts were half-assed. He knew how much you loved Greta Van Fleet and was thoughtful enough to get tickets as soon as they went on sale. 

“Of course baby. Anything for the best girl in the world. I’m super pumped too ya know.” He lifts your hand off of his arm, bringing it to his mouth to place a light kiss on it. He places it back down on your thigh, his hand lingering on yours. 

You give him a look of warning, but he still proceeds trailing his hand up your inner thigh. 

“Lucas, come on. We’re in public, have some decency.” You peel his hand off of you, placing it back in his own lap. 

“Stop being such a bitch, can’t you ever have fun?” He snaps back with a roll of his eyes. 

You shrug off his hostile words, because it was nothing you weren’t used to. A few minutes pass by, neither of you talking to the other. 

You’re starting to get a little hungry, so you convince Lucas to order some appetizers. You both decide on some mozzarella sticks and fried pickles. As he is grabbing the bartender's attention, you hear the door open. 

It wasn’t a super busy bar, you always tried to find little hidden gems in the area and this was one of them. As the door opens, four very familiar looking men come walking through the door.

Holy shit. 

Greta Van Fleet is walking into the bar you are in, and no one even knows who they are. They make their way to the bar and not a single person bats an eye. You blink a few times just to make sure your eyes aren’t deceiving you. Nope, not deceiving. 

You stare off into space, trying to stay calm about the situation at hand but you are quickly caught. 

“Y/n. Y/n? Are you listening?” Waving his hand in front of your face. 

You snap yourself out of your trance. “Yeah. Yeah, it's just uh… I think Greta Van Fleet just walked in.” His eyes widen as he whips around in the barstool to look over his shoulder. 

“That's definitely them babe, go over say something.”

“No no no, I am not doing that. They probably don’t want to be bothered” You shake your head. 

Lucas smiles at you, knowing how nervous you are just being in the same room as them.

“What if I go with you?” He reaches to his left, grabbing your hands in his. 

“Okay fine, but you have to stay with me.” You stand up from the bar seat, feeling as if you could fall over at any moment. Your shaky legs start making their way over to them, you can hear Lucas’s steps from behind you. 

They are within six feet now, your heart is pounding in your chest. Now or never. You decide to approach Sam first considering he looked to be the one least occupied. 

“Hey, you’re Sam from Greta Van Fleet.” Your mouth somehow forms the words. 

Sam turns towards you, giving you a slow look up and down before saying a thing, but his body said so much. “I am, you can call me Sammy though, beautiful. What’s your name?”

“Um, Y/n.” You were feeling your cheeks burn hotter and hotter with each second passing. Beautiful? What the actual fuck. 

“Ah, nice to meet you y/n, and what’s your brother's name?”

“Oh, uh, he’s my boyfriend. This is Lucas.” Lucas reaches his hand out to shake Sam’s, and Sam returns with a weak, uninterested shake back. 

“Ha, well I assumed you were related, seeing that you look similar.” You’ve never gotten that one before. “I mean you would have gotten the good genes if it was true.” What is up with this guy? 

“So are you from around here?” He looks directly at you, only wanting your answer.

“No, we're not, we're from Virginia. We’re just visiting for the concert actually.” You smile, feeling bashful that you’re talking to the Sam Kiszka right now.

“Ohh, that’s awesome. Hey boys, this lovely lady is going to be at our concert tomorrow.” He says to the rest of them, pointing at you. Lucas is still awkwardly standing behind you.

“How wonderful, where will you be sitting?” Josh asks, reaching out to softly shake your hand. 

“Well we won’t be on the floor, if it was up to me we would be but Lucas got the tickets for our anniversary. But we're still pretty close, on the left third row up.”

“Jeez man can’t even get her closer seats.” Sam says under his breath, which is quickly shut down when Jake elbows him for his spoiled behavior. 

Lucas just laughs at what he thinks is a joke. Poor boy, how stupid and clueless.

“Oh babe I think the appetizers are coming soon, I’ll go wait for them. As long as you are okay with that?” Lucas reaches for your hand, making sure you are calm and comfortable.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good I’ll be over soon.” You smile at him as he makes his way back over. Sam on the other hand was staring him down as he made his way back to the other side of the bar. 

You didn’t know what to say to any of them, you’ve dreamed of a moment like this but now that it’s actually happening you don’t know what to say. 

“Um, am I able to get a picture with all of you, this is like crazy to me.” They all nod and smile and you ask the bartender to take your picture. The boys push you to the middle, surrounding you. Sam stands directly to your left, and Jake to your right, while Josh and Danny stand on both ends. 

Jake places a hand on your shoulder, pulling you in. As the bartender is about to take the picture Sam places a hand around your waist, pulling you in his way. 

You feel a rush of butterflies fly through your stomach as you feel his fingers press harder into your side. After a few photos everyone disperses and takes their seat. You wanted to leave them be but also wanted to stay around a little longer. 

“Hey Sam, do you think I could get a photo with just you? I don’t like picking favorites but…,” you bring your hand up to his ear as if you were telling him a dirty little secret, whispering,” …you're definitely mine.” 

With a smirk plastered across his face he stands back up grabbing the phone and handing it to Josh. 

Just like before his large hands make its way back to the familiar spot it just was on. You lean into him, trying to look as natural as possible. After a short moment of Josh taking at least 20 photos he hands you back your phone, but Sam never lets you out of his grip. Instead he pulls you closer, his face next to your ear.

“I wanna see you after the concert tomorrow, got it?” You didn’t know what to say, you stared at him thinking that you misheard. “Now go back to your ‘boyfriend’ and let him think you're his for one more night.” Sam releases his grip, sending you off with a smile and wave.

What? Your mind was racing a million miles a minute, not sure what to think about everything that happened in the span of only 10 minutes. You shakily walk back over to Lucas where he and your appetizers were waiting. 

“So how was it? I know you didn’t want me to leave but you looked awfully comfortable over there.” Taking a bite of the mozzarella sticks, he's now scowling at you.

“It was awesome! I talked to all of them and got some pictures.” You pull your phone out showing him the group photo you took, leaving your one on one photo with Sam out of the conversation. 

“Wow that's so cool, babe.” He is barely listening, sounding like he's never been more bored in his life. 

“So cool,” you think in your head about how you want to bring up the fact that you were asked backstage. “Oh and Sam said he wants to see me after the concert.” 

“Oh wow babe, maybe he’ll wanna talk to us and we can get some autographs.”

“Yeah, maybe.” You stirred your drink thinking about the events of tonight. Your heart still palpitating from the unexpected interaction from only moments ago. Much has happened on your trip to Charleston, and it has barely just begun. 

—

You stand in the foggy bathroom of the hotel room you and Lucas were staying in for the weekend. It’s a nice, clean hotel room, nothing super spectacular though. But you didn’t mind. You take a long everything shower and are feeling ready for the night.

You slip on your tight black dress, wrapping your silver belt around your waist. You decide to do your hair next, opting for some simple curls. You do a bold, glittery silver makeup look. You finally tug on your black heeled boots. You begin to walk out of the bathroom, but then remember you didn’t put any perfume on. You go back into the bathroom to spray a generous amount onto your body, ya know, just in case.

You knew it was silly to think that anything would even happen between the two of you , but it’s every girl's dream. And maybe it’s bad to think while having a boyfriend but, who wouldn’t have a one night stand with one of the boys, right? It’s like a hall pass.

You rush out to the main room, not wanting to be late. Lucas is already sitting on the bed waiting for you. You grab a small bag with the necessities and check yourself over in the mirror.

You can see Lucas’s reflection in the mirror, his gaze solely focused on your ass and how it fits in your dress. “Damn, babygirl. You look smokin’.” 

“Thanks babe, we should probably get going. I don't want to be late.” You begin to walk over to the door to leave, but Lucas is still sitting on the bed. “Ya coming?” You question him, god he can be so fucking annoying sometimes. 

“I mean we won’t be too late, why don’t you come back over?” He smirks, patting on the bed.

“No Lucas, come on. I want to go.” You cross your arms in front of you, waiting for him.

“God you’re so fucking insufferable sometimes y/n. A guy can’t even get fucking laid?.” Lucas pushes off the bed and grabs the keys.

Lucas was very sexually driven. He always was. You both met on Tinder and all it was supposed to be was a one night stand, but it slowly turned into more. And while you loved him for how sweet he was, there was always the other side of him that you wish didn't exist. 

“Okay Lucas, whatever. Be angry that I don’t want to have fucking sex with you right now when we have somewhere to be.” You roll your eyes and roughly pull open the door leading out to the hall. 

—

After what felt like the longest drive ever, filled with silence and anger, you make it to the arena. Lucas went straight to his seat while you made your way to the merch stand. You tried to go as long as you could without having to be with him. When you heard music start to play you quickly rushed to your seat to watch the openers. 

Your seats were good, you could see the stage perfectly. After the openers finish up, you wait anxiously in your seat for Greta to come on. You find it hard to believe you’re about to see Sam again and you wonder if he would be able to see you too. You hope he did. You also hope that he will remember what he said last night at the bar. But knowing how busy their lives are, your hope of meeting him backstage was feeling less of a reality.

You hear the orchestra music begin to lull and you know they are coming on any minute now. The moment of tension between you and Lucas subsides, and you both begin to feel the excitement.

The crowd is cheering so loudly you think your eardrums might burst. The curtain falls and suddenly there stands the man you were in a scandalous conversation with.  

The boys take their places on stage and the opening notes ring throughout the arena. You couldn’t believe how close you are to him. You knew the seats were close but this is closer than you thought.

There was a perfect view of Sam’s side profile. His perfect side profile, perfect body, perfect hair, perfect fucking everything. After all the attention you had got from Sam last night you were feeling jealous of the girls closer to him. At some points you had forgotten that Lucas was even with you, until you felt his hand snake around you making you feel strange. 

You gently shrug his hand off of you, wanting to dance and sing along without him being all over you. He immediately makes a sour face accompanied with a disbelieving scowl. He takes a large gulp of his beer, deciding to finally mind his own business. Your gaze travels right back to Sam, his hair now a little damp from his sweat. 

He looks over at your section and you swear he gives you a flirty, little wink. Sure, maybe you are being a tad delusional but he does know where you are sitting and last night he was being quite cheeky with you.

As the show went on you shared more than a few glances, some lasting more than expected, and because of that someone was getting very jealous. Everytime Sam would look at you Lucas would roll his eyes and take a big swig of his drink. But you didn’t care, you were too in the moment to realize. 

As the show comes to an end, you take your seat, not knowing if you should leave. I mean sure Sam said he wanted to see you again, but he could just be saying that to everyone. But you couldn’t lose the opportunity. 

Lucas finishes his drink and digs the keys out of his pocket. “Alright let's go y/n, I couldn’t have you before the show but I sure as hell can after.” He says giving you a flirty look.

“Um Lucas, don’t you remember? Sam wanted to take me backstage. I can’t miss this opportunity.” You hold your ground, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Oh my god y/n give me a break. He’s not going to do that, and even if he did I wouldn’t let you. Not after all the looks you were giving him.”

“So what I’m gathering from that is you don’t trust me?!” You furrow your eyebrows at him in pure anger. You had tried your best all night to suppress your irritation, but now he was working on your last nerve. 

“That’s not what I-” He starts.

“Just save it. You’ve been acting like an ass to me all night. I was just trying to enjoy the concert. Besides, this is a fucking anniversary present anyway and you’re treating me like I’m a child.” 

“Excuse me ma'am.” You hear a voice come from the floor down below you. A large man in a security shirt looks up to you and Lucas. “Sam Kiszka asked to see you backstage if you are willing to follow me.”

“Omg yes definitely-” You start before you’re interrupted.

“No, y/n, you are not going.” Lucas cuts you off before you could say anymore, while grabbing onto your arm rather forcefully. 

“Um yes I am. This is once in a lifetime Lucas, I won’t let you ruin this for me just because you're jealous and wanna go home to get your dick sucked. You can go, I'll get an Uber back to the hotel.” You grab your bag and begin to make your way to the stairs before you're grabbed again.

“You think you’re gonna be with him all night or something? Honestly go ahead y/n. Go fuck him, you obviously want to be with him more than me tonight. I should have known you were such a bitch.” He begins to walk away and towards the exit and you just let him. He just couldn’t stand being happy for you. 

You’d have a conversation with Lucas at some point, but you are a little more focused on the fact that Sam Kiszka is waiting for you backstage currently. 

You turn to face the security guy with an apologetic look, “I’m so sorry about him. I’d love to go backstage.” You give him a sweet smile in which he returns. 

“No problem, ma’am. Follow me right this way.” He leads you down the steps onto the floor and walks you to the back of the stage. The nerves were building up as was the anticipation of seeing Sam again. And he requested to see you.

You walk past all the backstage workers beginning to pack up the stage equipment, not a trace of any Greta Van Fleet member. You still find it hard to believe this was even happening right now, and who knows what's going to happen when you reach Sam. The fact you just had a severe argument with your boyfriend only minutes ago, and not even knowing where the two of you stood at the moment, complicated things even more. 

The security guard stops just short of a black door, labeled with the name Sam Kiszka.”Feel free to knock on the door ma’am, he's just inside.” He points in the direction of the door, smiles, and then turns to walk away. He didn’t even give you a chance to thank him, before he was out of sight. You’re left alone now, in front of Sam’s door. You take a deep breath trying to steady yourself before you knock.

You feel your hand shake as you bring your fist to the door, rapping your knuckles against it. After a few moments you hear the door knob jiggle. Oh my god. There he is, again.

His body still glistening with sweat as he opens the door for you, smirking looking down at you. He plops down onto the couch in the corner, patting the cushion next to him. “Sit down babydoll, I wanna hear your thoughts.” You take a seat beside him. He drapes his arms across the back of the couch, brushing your hair in the process. 

“Um It was really good. It was hard to take my eyes off you, you did amazing.” You realize his gaze on you, making you nervous and shift in your seat.

“I’m so happy you liked it.” Taking a piece of your hair, and twirling it in his fingers. “So what about, hm Linus? Luke, I don't care to remember. Where is he?”

“Oh Lucas, well he wasn’t invited back, which is fine he understands. Well…not really, but it’s fine. He’s been a real dick all night anyways so the time away from him is good.” You feel the anger rising back up again just from the simple thought of Lucas right now. 

“He’s no good for you babydoll, you need someone to treat you right. Make you feel good, make you happy.” His hand that was once gently intertwined in your hair is now grasped around the back of your neck.

You shift to face him.“Do I? And who do you suppose could do that for me?” He is so fucking bold, and apparently so were you with this newfound confidence. 

“Look right in front of you babe.” His lips form a straight line, his eyebrows practically raised to his hairline.

“Sam, I have a boyfriend.” The devil on your shoulder is so badly telling you to give into him. 

“And? I’m so much better than him y/n, open your eyes. Like seriously, what does he have that I don’t, because it doesn’t seem like much. Last time I checked he wasn’t a musician in a popular rock band who also happens to be a millionaire.”

Such a cocky fucking man. But you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on.

“Well he pays for our rent, makes dinner once a week...lots of stuff.” You are trying to convince yourself. It's not really working.

“Baby, if you were mine you’d have your own house, never cook another day in your life, and have anything you fucking want.” His eyes were staring right into yours, he looked…serious? Fuck, why universe do you have to make things so goddamn difficult.  

“Maybe I don’t care about the money, I care about the love. Could you even do that?”

Sam stares at you, deciding his answer in his own head. “How would you feel if I kissed you, then you can decide if I ‘love’ the way you want babydoll.”

“Well I wouldn’t feel a thing because I wholeheartedly love my boyfriend.”

Are you really going to do this right now? Cheat on your boyfriend. You’ve never been a cheater, why start now? Maybe it’s because Sam Kiszka hasn’t been begging for your attention before. 

His grip around the back of your neck tightens to bring you closer to him, your lips only a few inches apart. You stay like that for a few seconds but it feels like hours with the need for him pulsing through you. 

Before you knew it his lips quickly attached to yours, his lips were so soft and plump. He pulls away to look at you. “Feel anything?” He questions with a cocky ass look on his face. His stupid, pretty face.  

“I wish I could tell you I did, but I didn’t.” You were most definitely lying, trying to convince yourself that there was nothing there. You felt guilty, but that guilt was being covered by the lust filling the air. The need for Sam was far too powerful, you didn’t want anyone else. 

Next thing you know your lips are back on his, this time with more urgency. You lean further into him as his tongue teases at your lips, begging for entrance. You part your lips for him allowing his tongue to slide against yours. Your hands make their way to the back of his head, lightly tugging at his coffee colored hair. 

A light moan slips from your mouth at the feeling of his lips against yours, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Sam. 

“You’re such a bad liar. You can keep saying you don’t feel anything but your body can’t lie baby.” His hands trail down your body making you shiver. “So touched starved. Lucas doesn’t do anything to you does he? Surely he doesn’t please you the way you want, huh? I could do so much better for you babydoll.”

“Not recently. I mean he’s always begging for it and I usually give in but it always sucks. It’s half assed and always for his pleasure. He’s sweet sometimes but all he ever thinks about is sex. It’s hard to see the good in a relationship when the bad outweighs the good.”

Sam’s hands rub up and down your thighs, giving you comfort in the moment. 

“I mean even today he tried to fuck right before we left and when I was about to come back here he was arguing about going back and fucking then, like god if you’re going to insist on fucking all the time at least make it decent.” You realized how loud and aggressive you had gotten during your one sided conversation. “I’m sorry that’s probably more than you wanted to know.”

“No, it's all good babydoll. I could tell you didn’t like him all that much at the bar. But I could tell how much you were feeling up on me.” Smirking at you. If you were trying to have a serious conversation with Lucas and he did that you’d probably smack him, but when Sam does it, it turns you on. “You can act like you're not feeling it, but I can tell.” Before you can register, you're being brought up onto Sam’s lap, straddling him on the couch. 

“Y/n, I’ll treat you so right babygirl. With me, you’d never have to worry about anything ever again.” His hands are trailing up and down over your ass, you instinctively grind down into his lap. Sam sucks in a sharp breath through clenched teeth. “Goddamn, if you keep that up I’ll cum in my fucking pants.”  

“Mmm, that would be kinda fun, wouldn’t it? Ya know…if I made you cum in your pants.” You smirk at him as you grind your hips again. 

“Stop teasing.” He hisses through his teeth, grabbing at your hips to still them. 

“Fine, I won’t.” You get off his lap, kneeling in front of him and unzip his jeans. Sam’s hands connect to your hair as you release him from his jeans, only his boxers hiding his cock from your sight. Before you could fully make your way off the floor Sam was ripping off your belt and pulling your dress above your head. 

You feel the cold air hit your now bare chest, your nipples instantly hardening. You can sense Sam’s eyes on you and you finally look up to meet his gaze. 

“Well, well, well. Would you look at that?” His eyes scan over your chest as you settle yourself back down on his lap. 

“Like what you see?” You challenge him, leaning over so your tits are directly in front of his face. 

His hands reach down to the waistband of his boxers and swiftly pull them down. His cock slaps against his stomach and you can feel the saliva collecting in your mouth, you have to physically stop yourself from drooling. “I don’t know, you tell me.” His voice is low and husky, he’s incredibly turned on. You can tell because his cock looks like it's practically aching, a bead of precum collecting on his swollen tip. 

Almost subconsciously you begin to make your way down onto your knees, but before you could take him in he grabs a chunk of your hair, pulling you up to meet his gaze. “Oh no honey that's not how this works. I don’t know what Lucas makes you do but you come first, in more than one way.”

“But… I want to…” You look at him like a lost puppy, you were taken off guard. I mean, yeah, you were used to sucking Lucas’s dick with nothing in return, that’s all you’ve known for the past year and a half, why would you expect anything different now. 

“Well maybe I wanna please you y/n. Just accept that babydoll, not everyone is as selfish as him.” He leans forward on the couch taking your hips into his hands pulling you closer to him. 

His lips graze over your stomach leaving soft, feather light kisses. Your hands travel to the back of his head to clutch onto his long hair. 

“Lay down on the couch for me, peach.” He looks up at you from his sitting position, his eyes darkened and lust-filled. You immediately obey him, finally allowing yourself to give into his ministrations. Taking a seat on the couch, Sam gently pushes you down, your back hitting the leather cushions.

Your body laid out for him, completely vulnerable. He hovers himself over you, mouth connecting to your neck and leaving light kisses down to the top of your tits. “Can I leave marks, let Lucas know whose you are?”

“You’re implying that I'm yours, Sammy?” You smirk at him, running your hands up and down his bare chest. 

“Oh peach, you’ve been mine from the moment I laid eyes on you.” He leans down to place a kiss on your lips. 

You immediately melt into him, his lips so soft and plump. Your hands wrap around his neck pulling him down closer, bringing his hips flush with yours. He deepens the kiss, his tongue teasing at your lips begging for entrance. You part your lips allowing his tongue to slide across yours. 

A tiny moan escapes from your mouth, causing Sam to pull away. “Fuck, those little noises you’re making are so pretty baby. Keep doing it and I’m gonna fuck you straight out of your relationship.”

“Do it, fuck me so hard I forget about my stupid boyfriend.” Your hands scratch at his scalp and gently pull at the strands of his long hair. “Sammy…”

“What peach?” He lightly drags his hand up the curve of your hip and over your waist to grab at your tits. 

You look over at the vanity mirror against the wall, in the corner of the room. “I…” You trail off, lost in space, letting your imagination run wild with all the possibilities. “I need you to fuck me over by that mirror.” 

He follows your line of sight, a smirk appearing on his face once he realizes. “What a dirty girl. Fine, you wanna act like a slut, you’ll get fucked like a slut too.” Before you could register what was happening Sam grabbed your hand and brought you to the vanity. 

Sam pushed you face down onto the counter, bringing you close to the mirror. Sam’s hands grab onto your ass, watching as your face distorted in pain. 

His hands linger on the waistband of your panties. His fingers slip under the fabric and release with a harsh snap against your skin. “Fuck…” You squeak out. 

“Mmm, the prettiest peach. But, I think these need to come off,” He says, rubbing his large hand over your ass cheek before tugging down your underwear, letting them pool at your feet. “That’s much better, I need to see my girl completely when I fuck her.”

Sam’s fingers drag over your slit, feeling your pool of wetness. “Damn baby, who got you like this.” Whispering into your ear. “It wasn’t Lucas, was it?” He grabs your chin, forcing eye contact in the mirror. “Was it?” You watch his reflection as his jaw clenches. 

“No Sam, it was you, only you.” You practically whimper out. God, you were a mess for this man.

Sam grins, feeling proud of what he caused. “Good, now I think I need to get a taste before you’re not able to hold yourself up.” 

Sam kneels behind you to become eye level with your cunt. His eyes rake over your slick folds as he lets out a low groan. “Fuck, peach. Can’t believe all of this is for me.” His fingers lightly play with your folds before you feel his tongue lick a slow, long stripe up your pussy. 

“Shit…” You huff out, his warm tongue taking you by surprise. He continues on with a few more licks up your slit, before he pulls away. 

“Aw, someone liked that. You that deprived baby? Lucas not know how to please a woman like you? I mean he’s just a boy after all, you need a real man, like me.” He chuckles a little at his own words. You can feel the anger starting to boil. 

You whip your head around causing him to fall back onto his hands. “Stop fucking bringing him up.” You spit at him. “I don’t give a shit about him and I’ve been dreading the fact I have to go back to that hotel room when his asshole self is there.”

“Feisty little thing aren't you?” He smirks up at you, nothing but pure enjoyment plastered across his face. “You’re quite cute when you’re angry, peach.” Sam pushes your hair behind your ear. “Plus what makes you think you have to go back to him. I'm all yours.” He smiles sweetly at you. A moment of silence passes.

“Sam just shut your goddamn mouth for once.” You shoot him a venomous glare. “Fuck me. Right. Now. I can’t wait any longer.” Maybe you were begging, but you couldn’t care less you were drunk off this man. 

You see Sam rise from his knees in the mirror to stand behind you. He leans over to whisper in your ear, “You’re going to regret speaking to me like that, peach.” 

“Am I? That’s funny. I’m just wondering why your dick still isn’t inside of me.” You make eye contact with him through the reflection, you narrow your eyes at him. “You know what… maybe I’ll go get Danny to finish the job.” You turn around to start walking away before Sam grabs around your waist. 

“Oh, I don’t think so.” He presses a wet kiss to the side of your neck. “Danny is…preoccupied right now anyway.” 

He pulls your body back over to the vanity, his hand flattening itself over your back to push your face back down onto the cool counter. 

He leans down, his lips right against your ear, “Besides, you’ll never want another man after I’m finished with you.” 

“Hmm, I don’t know. Jake actually seems like he would be amazing in bed. More mature. More experienced. Yeah, maybe you’ve fucked a lot of girls but was it even good anyway?” 

“Shut your mouth or I’ll shut you up with my cock.” His cheeks are flushed red, your bodies radiating so much heat. 

“Maybe, I want that.” 

“Slut.” Without warning, he is slamming his cock inside of you giving you little time to adjust. “You wanna act like you can take me, then take me. Take me like the slut you are.” 

Sam pumps in and out of you, slowly getting you used to his large cock.

“Holy shit Sam, you’re so big.” You grab onto the sides of the vanity, attempting to steady yourself. 

“I’m sure it feels huge compared to whatever you’re used to.” He laughs under his breath, and you immediately turn around and stand up to face him. 

Your jaw clenches before you’re absolutely laying into him. Your faces are only inches apart. “What did I tell you about bringing his goddamn name up. I don’t want to fucking think about him you asshole.” 

“Well, I mean… I didn’t say his name.” He smirks and that’s exactly what sends you over the edge. Your hands land on his chest pushing him backwards. He stumbles back, landing in a seating position on the couch, looking up at you in awe.      

“If you keep testing me you’re not going to find me so peachy anymore.” You warn, your body looming over him. You begin to straddle him, lining him up with your core. “Now let’s see if you can handle me Sammy.” 

You lower yourself down on him, his hands instinctively grasp at your hips to guide you.

“Fuck y/n, you’re so tight. Shit-” You squeeze around him, causing his grip to tighten on you. A hiss slips passed his lips and before you know it he’s meeting you halfway, thrusting up into you. 

His hands travel up your sides to caress your tits. He takes your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger, rolling it in the most delicious way. Your head falls back, but you continue to grind against him. “Sammy…”

“What peach?” He sounds breathless and completely fucked out. 

“You feel so incredible. The- shit. The… fucking best I’ve ever had.” You pant out, your hands grasping at his hair. 

“I don’t doubt that peach.” Smirking, looking deep into your soul.

You grab a chunk of his hair, exposing his neck. “You’re acting pretty fucking cocky for not doing much yet Sammy. I don’t even feel close yet, I could go for hours.

“You’ll be going for hours whether you come or not baby.” He says, grabbing your hair exposing your neck, leaving a deep purple mark on the side of your neck. 

“God…” You moan out, causing him to smirk. He peels you off of him and next thing you know he's roughly flipping you onto your back.

“You haven’t seen anything yet, y/n.” He hovers over your body, his dick in hand pumping frantically. 

“Put it back in, Sammy.” You whine out in the most despairing tone.

“Fuck peach, you’re desperate for me.” He smirks down at you clearly enjoying the situation you two are in. “I know how bad you want it, you gotta beg for it though. Show me how bad you want it.” He begins dragging his cock through your folds, staring deep into your eyes.

The only thing that manages to come out of your mouth is a high-pitched moan. 

“That won’t cut it, peach, use your goddamn words.” He slaps his dick against your pussy, causing your body to squirm. He reaches his free hand out to drag down your body landing on your hip. He leans down to whisper in your ear, “You know you want this cock so bad, just give it up.” 

You roll your eyes at him, but then your eyes trail down to his rock hard length resting in his hand. You have to physically stop yourself from drooling. And as if you couldn’t get any wetter you feel another rush of wetness coat your pussy. 

“I think you want it just as bad as I do Sam, so why don’t you just give it up?” Reaching down, smearing the pre-cum from his tip onto your thumb, and bringing it to your mouth. 

His breath hitches and you can see the wheels turning in his mind. He spreads your legs further apart, your one leg now draped along the back of the couch, centering himself in between your legs, gently sliding himself into you yet again. 

You both let out a sigh of relief. You can’t help but chuckle a little. 

“Why are you laughing peach?” He asks you but still continues on with his slow yet deep thrusts. 

“Just find it funny how you wanted me to beg so bad, but you’re the one that ended up caving first.” You whimper out. 

Before getting another word out, a swift slap is delivered across your cheek. “I don’t want to hear another fucking word from you, got it?” He says through gritted teeth, with a dark glare that could stop anyone in their tracks. His large veiny hand covers your mouth before Sam completely demolishes your pussy.

He attacks hard and fast, giving you no time to get comfortable. After a few minutes, Sam’s movements start to get sloppy.

“Fuck, I’m so close peach. Shit, so so tight, fuck. So pretty mama. Prettiest fucking pussy.” His eyes are screwed shut and you can’t help but admire him.l 

You knew he wasn’t lying from the nonsense leaving his mouth. 

You grab his wrist, pulling his hand off your mouth. “Cum in me Sammy, I’m on the pill. Get me pregnant for all I care.”

“Yeah? I wouldn’t mind that. You being my baby mama.” His breath hitches and you can tell he’s right there. 

“Cum for me Sam, I know you want to cum in my tight pussy, just give it to me.” You squeeze around him and that is his breaking point.

“Fuck, fuck. I’m coming- shit.” He is drilling into you and before you know it you’re feeling his hot liquid flood your pussy. “Take it y/n, take it all…” After he comes down, he finishes off with a few more thrusts. Sam holds himself up on the couch before pulling himself out. 

You were so close, but you weren’t able to finish in time.

“That was so fucking good y/n.”

“I’m sure it was.” Still you lay there unsatisfied.

“What is that supposed to mean?” He furrowed his eyebrows.

“Well I’m sure it would feel good, you know, if I would have came.” Sam’s face turns bright red, feeling embarrassed. 

“I thought- well, I figured…”

“Sam” you cut him off. “Finish the job, or I’ll assume what I did when I first walked in here, that you’re all talk and no game.”

Before you could say anything more, Sam pries your legs open, exposing his cum dripping down your folds. Sam inserts his fingers, curling upward to reach your g-spot.

“Oh fuck Sam, right there. Fuck your cum back into me.”

“Yeah I’m sure you would like that. Better chance of getting you pregnant, right?” He adds his thumb, swirling circles onto your clit. 

Your body is thrashing around at this point, your hands searching for anything to grab onto, ultimately landing in Sam’s hair again.

You tug harshly on his dark brown locks and immediately you see the results of your actions. Sam’s eyes roll back into his head, “Fuck, you wanna try and make me cum again or something.” 

“Hmm, I wouldn’t mind that.” You smile up at him. 

You look right at Sam as he bites his plump bottom lip. “You're close.” 

“H-how do you know that?” You grip tighter on his hair. 

“I feel you squeezing my fingers Peach, I’m very familiar with the way women react to me when they’re close.” He drives his thick fingers even deeper and you are nearing your end, exactly as he expected. 

“I feel so fucking good, I could almost-” You trail off, your orgasm overtaking you. 

“You could almost, what?” 

You feel the intense buildup, before the euphoric release. Small spurts of your juices cover Sam’s hand and splashes up onto his chest. “Oh God.” You don’t realize your grip on Sam’s hair until you come back down, but he doesn’t even seem to mind. His eyes were full of pure admiration. 

“Holy shit, y/n. That was the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.” He pulls you up to straddle his lap, resting your head on his sweat glistening chest. 

“I could say the same thing about you.” 

You feel a feeling of euphoria, but now without the distraction you’re feeling very stressed. You knew that you had just fucked someone who was not the man you came to the concert with. But was it over before you came back here? You dealt with him for too long, and you knew that after this you could never go back to a man who treats you like an object. 

“Hey peach?” Sam looks down at you laying on his chest. 

“Hm?” You look up at him and a sweet smile spreads across his beautiful face. 

“You don’t deserve to be treated the way he treats you. You deserve to be treated like a queen. To be appreciated and loved, whether that’s from me or not.” His hand is stroking at your hair now in an attempt to comfort you. 

“I know I should, and I know what I did tonight wasn’t right, but I think it’s what I needed to realize what I deserve.” 

“Listen, I don’t know how to go about this from here. I wanna give you my number though, I don’t know just in case you wanna talk. Or if I’m in the area and need a date with a hot babe.” You chuckle at his words, feeling appreciated.

“I think I’d love that Sam. Thank you for tonight, seriously. I don’t think I’ll ever go to a concert that tops this one.” You can’t wipe your smile off your face.

“I know you won’t peach. Plus I don’t want anyone else bringing you backstage. You’re mine.” 

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

TAGLIST: @peaceloveunitygvf @jordie-gvf @Gretavanhockey @Mama-likes72 @mar-rein12 @jennabobenasblog @terry-66 @traffic-was-a-b1tch 

[my-autism-adhd-blog]

School Anxiety

The Autistic Teacher

Note: this can apply to college students and high school too. I remember feeling nauseous when my first day of college started.

[sukunasteeth]

Picking You Up From Work

Sukuna leans on the bumper of his Camaro, hoping a drop of rain doesn’t land perfectly on the tip of his cigarette and snuff it out. He’s pretending not to watch the front door of your workplace, like an anxious dog waiting for his owner to come home, but it’s ten minutes past the time you said you’d be out, and he was ready to take you to his apartment and settle down for the night. It had been a long day- he wanted to forget it in the taste of your whimpering on his tongue.

Customers pass him on their way into your workplace. Sukuna wonders briefly what has them whispering to each other and sneaking glances over at him: the nearly sixty year old car or the man covered in tattoos leaning against it?

Fifteen minutes pass before he checks his phone again. It was unlike you to be late, you knew Sukuna had a pet peeve of not being on time and, despite how hairbrained you were, he knew you tried to meet him halfway. Looking over his shoulder, he peeks at the flowers sitting on the passenger seat waiting for you. If he had known you'd be a minute, he would have put a splash of water in the bottom of the flower wrap holding the bouquet together. He clicks his tongue in disappointment, hoping they don’t wilt by the time you get to them.

“I’m sorry, I have to get going-” Your voice chimes through the sound of the rainfall like a cleansing bell, bringing Sukuna’s attention snapping back towards the exit of your work.

You're standing halfway between his car and the building, directly in the middle of the parking lot. A man dressed in a similar uniform to yours is standing a little too close to you for Sukuna’s comfort.

He flicks the ash off of the end of his cigarette and takes a drag.

~

“Are you sure?”

It’s been a long day.

“We could go get some coffee and just hangout for a bit-”

A really long day.

Granted: working customer service you expected long days. Grating days. Days in which you questioned your faith in humanity. But, that all usually ended when you clocked out for the night and headed home. You could easily forget all of it at the door. Tonight, however, the annoyance of having to save face continues.

You had been trying to give this guy a hint all day as he followed you around, desperate to catch your attention and doing anything to gain a brownie point. It was really starting to tick you off.

Not only that, you knew Sukuna was waiting for you somewhere in the parking lot and it was only a matter of time before this man was decapitated before your very eyes.

Dammit, you just wanted to go home.

“I’m sorry, Sam. I’ve got someone waiting for me. Have a good night!” You try to wave him off, offering a polite smile before you turn your back to him.

"Who's waiting for you?" Sam calls out, still not catching the hint.

Before you can reply, a hand reaches around your waist, securing you to a familiar side- but you've been on edge all day, just waiting for your coworker to make one bold wrong move. On instinct, you snatch the wrist at your hip with a deathgrip before realization is able to save you.

Your eyes whip up to meet Sukuna's smirking gaze, his smile flashing into that serpentine grin that makes your fight or flight mode go off.

"Ohoho-" He chuckles, and there’s a mischievous darkness lurking beneath it. 

"'Kuna!" You ease your grip immediately, cradling his hand in sympathy. Part of you is instantly relieved he’s here to sweep you away, and the other part is sweating over how he’s going to handle this situation.  

Sukuna could be a bit possessive. 

"Good grip." He purrs, snatching up your own hand instead and continuing his original plan of tucking you securely into his side. "You turned your back to the scum bag, though." He tsks quietly. "My brat should know better."

Sukuna easily turns the both of you around, lifting you slightly to move without tripping you. You’re forced to face your coworker once again, although you notice that your unease has dissipated with Sukuna next to you now. 

“Is this...? A-Are you guys…” Sam sneers at Sukuna's sudden appearance, his poorly shaven lip curling up in disgust. 

Sukuna merely hums in response, “Every night while you’re wet dreamin’ about it.”

“S-Sukuna!” You interrupt, squeezing his fingers. Heat burns in your ears and you can feel them going pink under Sam’s now incredulous stare. “Is… my… yes.” You finish quietly, trying to avoid either one of the men watching you. Letting people into your personal life was not something you liked to do, even though you're sure your fiance would love it if you screamed it from the rooftops.

“Aw,” Sukuna makes a fond, sentimental noise and you press your elbow into his rib cage when you hear a mischievous lilt to his tone. 

“You and this guy?” Sam gives Sukuna an obvious once over, crossing his gangly arms over his chest in disapproval. “He’s not even your type!”

Oh.

Maybe this guy deserved a good beating.

Even you were too afraid to look at your fiance at that moment, you could tell by the look on Sam’s face that Sukuna wasn’t happy. 

The scariest part about Sukuna getting angry, was the lack of reaction. There was no glaring. No muscles going rigid. No shouting. There was only this overwhelming sense of danger, like a prey animal realizing it was about to meet its predator. 

Sam tries to fix it, sensing the murderous intent hanging in the air, but his ego still tries to bite: “Look, dude, I don’t mean any harm. I just think she needs a gentleman.”

…

Now that piques your interest.

You need a gentleman?

You almost completely forget about Sukuna for a moment, your head snapping in your coworker's direction with breakneck speed. 

“Gentleman?” You repeat, scoffing. “Are you fucking kidding me? You’ve been breathing down my neck like a fucking animal in heat all day. Practically begging for half a second of female attention in any form you can get it and you’re standing here-after trying to follow me to my car like some fucking pervert- and you’re trying to tell me you’re a gentleman?”

When you try to take a step forward, you're reminded of Sukuna's unrelenting grip on your hip bone, holding you in place.

“Calm down- all I wanted to do was walk you to your car.” Your ill-favored coworker rolls his eyes, although you can sense his discomfort in the way he takes a few steps away from you. His ego speaks again, and you see red. “You don’t have to be such a bitch about it.” 

What.

“Alright, alright” Sukuna is shoving something cold and jagged into your hands, distracting the sudden confused rage that washes over you. Before you can expel it, he unfastens his hand from around your waist and nudges you in the direction behind him. “Go start the car.”

You blink up at him, taken back by the entire situation. His keys dangle in your frozen fingers, clinking together. 

Sukuna knows you're mad. Knows the only thing on your mind is curb stomping the man in front of you. And you know he won't let you get anywhere near that.

“Come on, Duckie.” He purses his lower lip in a mock pout when you don't turn to leave immediately. There’s something dark glittering behind the faux playfulness in his eyes, reassuring you that nobody was going to get off easy, asking you politely to turn your gaze from what he was about to do.

His calloused thumb sweeps over your fingertips, gliding over the deep red nail polish there. The kiss he presses against your knuckles is one meant for royalty. Soft and sweet. And incredibly persuasive. “I just got these nails done. Lemme keep ‘em pretty for ya.” 

~

When Sukuna opens the driver side door and slides in, fifteen minutes have passed. There’s a smear of blood on his cheek that matches the one on his knuckles, the red catches his eye in the review mirror. He licks his finger, using his spit to try and wipe it off before he turns to meet you, smiling sweetly. 

“What should we get for dinner?"

[officialaemondtargaryen]

Dinner & Diatribes

❝i knew it from the first look of mischief in your eye.❞

Summary: You both swiped right and suddenly you're standing in a stranger's kitchen while he makes you spaghetti.

Pairing: Modern Aegon Targaryen x Reader

Word Count: 5.2k

Author’s Note: this might be the most self-indulgent fic i've ever written, so fair warning. also, thank you tom, who inspired this by saying that dinner & diatribes would be aegon's hozier song. it's just true. anyways, this was really fun to write.

Warnings: language, recreational drug use, alcohol use, fluff, intense sexual situations (including: oral sex - female receiving, sexual intercourse - p in v), just two single people who are horny, more fluff, aegon being so cute that i couldn't stop smiling the whole time i was writing this.

It was precisely 9:39 PM on a Tuesday.

You were sitting cross-legged on your couch, nose deep in a fresh murder mystery that you had been working through for the last two days. There was a lit joint between your fingers that you were nursing, taking little hits so that it wouldn’t completely burn out, and on the cushion next to you, your phone softly vibrates and lights up; a familiar icon flashes across the screen and you can easily make out the words, “It’s a Match” from the corner of your eye. 

It’d been a regular occurrence since you had downloaded that accursed app. 

You’d been single for far too long, according to your best friend, though you hadn’t really noticed. The sweet silence of a solitary life was something that you had enjoyed for the most part. It wasn’t even like your online dating life had really taken off, either. You’d get matches but hardly anyone would reach out in any way that made you feel like they were serious. They wanted your Snapchat username, or they were in an ‘open’ relationship or asking for a threesome, and one guy even asked if you would send him pictures of your feet. Even some of the ones you thought were serious about taking you out- or even just hooking up- would end up ghosting you before anything actually happened. 

“It’s not supposed to be serious,” you could hear your friend’s words rattling around in your brain. You shake your head and focus once again on your book; they have a suspect, it’s the best friend! How fitting.

Once again, your phone lights up and vibrates. Not wanting to be distracted from the plot, you ignore your new match and get back to your mystery with anticipation; the best friend is about to confess. You go to take another hit of your joint and frown upon realizing it’s burnt out. As you move to grab your lighter, in comes another message, and another, and another. You stop what you’re doing and pick up your phone, swiping at the screen until you find the culprit. He’s known only as Aegon T, and according to the one sentence he has written on his profile, he has a dog. You swipe through his pictures- the dog is a golden retriever, the man looks like a golden retriever. 

In the message thread, he’s basically talking to himself. 

There’s four new messages waiting for you, while three little dots begin flashing at the bottom of the screen; disappearing and reappearing as you read what he’s already sent. 

“So, I’m high.”

“And I am making spaghetti… and it’s really good.”

“At least I hope it’s really good, it could just be the weed…”

“I could use a taste-tester, if you’re up for it? I can’t pay you or anything, but it’s honest work 😏”

Aegon begins typing again and you watch the screen, a smirk on your lips. You are 99% sure that the spaghetti is truly an innuendo for what he really wants and have half a heart to just block him, but you watch as those little gray dots continue in the bottom left corner of the screen; he’s going back and forth with himself and you can’t help but find it oddly cute. Your fingers hover over the keyboard as you contemplate a witty response, but before you can even begin typing, he sends a fifth message. 

“That was weird as fuck, right?”

Then a sixth.

“You probably don’t want to come over to some random guy’s house on a Tuesday.”

He finishes up with a seventh message.

“Unless you do…”

He almost sends an apology. After all, what's another message? He’s already fucked this whole thing up; not even giving himself a chance before he nose-dived. If he was being honest, he should just go ahead and delete his whole account; save you from secondhand embarrassment and save himself from repeating the same mistake again in the future. He sets the phone down on the kitchen counter and goes back to ripping bong hits to calm his nerves. Though, he’s unable to keep himself from checking his phone for a response; a response that likely wasn’t going to come and he’d spend the rest of his night feeling like a complete idiot. 

Seven back-to-back messages should have screamed ‘red flag’, but you’re glancing at the clock as if you were seriously contemplating taking this stranger up on his offer. After all, you do have needs just as much as the next person. But, you’re wearing a sweatshirt and a pair of pajama shorts, your hair’s a mess, and you were covered in the crumbs of your munchie snacks. Meaning, you were nowhere close to being prepared for what was sure to happen between you and this random stoner offering you dinner. 

Yet, you respond to him, “I could never turn down spaghetti”. 

Aegon’s stirring the sauce when he gets your message. He’s instantly elated, thrusting a celebratory fist into the air. His fingers fly across the keyboard swiftly, sending another quick message, “Atta girl 🙃 My place is on the corner of 9th and 51st, above Jasper’s.”

“Be there soon,” you reply with haste. 

It was apartment #4 and you made sure to text your friend the address, and given name of your potential murderer, and also share your location for her to keep an eye out.  She says all you have to do is text her at any time if you need her to call and bail you out with a fake emergency. All she asks in return is for you to have fun and let her know if you are planning on spending the night- which was an idea that you weren’t opposed to, but it wasn’t something you were planning on. 

You’re nervous as you stand outside of the door to his apartment, fist hovering for a moment. Now’s the time to make a fast exit- you haven’t met him, you could turn around right now and never meet him. You could wake up alive in the morning, safe in your own bed. Or, you can knock on the door and have what might be a really nice spaghetti dinner with a really nice guy. Hell, he could even be the love of your life and in fifty years you’ll both look back on this day and laugh about how you met on Tinder and how you were stupid enough to go to his house and not a public place. 

Finally, you knock. 

Aegon puts the lid back on his spaghetti sauce and shuffles into the living room. Sunfyre is on the couch with his ears perked; his tail’s wagging and he’s panting eagerly, waiting patiently to meet this new visitor. Aegon whispers over to him, “wish me luck,” and thinks to himself, please don’t be a catfish, please don’t be a catfish, please don’t be a catfish. He peers through the peephole when he approaches the door and there you are, a sigh of relief deflates his chest. 

“Oh, thank God,” you can hear him say as the door swings open. His accent is surprisingly British. “You’re real.”

The very first thing that you notice are his eyes. They’re piercing; somehow blue and lavender at the same time– the color of a warm, summer sunrise and they’re crinkling at the edges as he smiles. He’s wearing a pair of dark gray sweats and a pale green hoodie, and the only word that comes to mind when you look at him is warmth. He’s somehow more attractive in person than he is in the pictures on his profile, which you didn’t think was possible, but he’s standing right in front of you and you can’t help but think to yourself, he doesn’t look like a murderer. 

Then again, neither did Ted Bundy.  

Aegon stands there for a moment, just staring at you, unable to do anything else. His words escape him, he can barely even breathe. You look exactly the same as your pictures; even without the makeup and even in the shitty, fluorescent overhead lights of the hallway. Even in a sweatshirt and pajama shorts, you’re stunning. He’s having a hard time believing that you actually showed up and he doesn’t realize that he’s been staring for much too long until you shrug back at him. 

“Did you think I wasn’t?” You ask with creased brows and a lopsided smile.

The corners of his lips pull upwards as he looks at you, “I don’t know. You’re just so beautiful, I’m still not entirely convinced you aren’t some sort of hologram… or a robot.” 

“Wow, you’re pretty smooth,” you say with a playful smirk, desperately trying to keep your composure— trying to play it cool, hoping that he hasn’t caught on to the fact that you’re secretly spiraling, because it took all of one smile and one compliment and you were done for. “But, I’ll have you know that flattery won’t work on me. I’m here for the spaghetti and the spaghetti alone.” 

“My apologies,” Aegon says with a chuckle as he holds his hands up defensively. “Right this way, then.” 

He steps to the side, allowing you to enter his apartment, and shuts the door behind you. It’s nice, clean, smells like fresh baked bread and tomato sauce. There’s niche artwork adorning the walls, he’s got candles burning, and there’s some lowkey, downtempo R&B playing softly in the background. He quickly moves past you and disappears into the kitchen, leaving you to follow him. 

However, before you can take all of two steps into his apartment, a flash of golden fur is suddenly at your hip, pawing for attention. You drop down to a knee and happily accept any and all kisses from the pup. “Oh! Hi, what’s your name?”

Aegon sticks his head around the corner and says, “That is Sunfyre. In case you were wonderin’, he’s a very good judge of character and I will be consultin’ with him later where you’re concerned, fair warning.” 

You roll your eyes and scratch behind Sunfyre’s ears, his tail thumps in approval. 

“Would you like something to drink?” He continues and disappears back into the kitchen. “I’ve got wine and bottled water. Oh, and milk?” There’s a rustling in the kitchen before Aegon adds with a nervous chuckle, “scratch that, there is no milk.” 

You politely excuse yourself from Sunfyre and step into the small dining room off of the kitchen. 

There’s a grin on your lips, which you pursed so that he doesn’t think you’re laughing at him. Sunfyre joins the two of you and circles around his owner’s legs as Aegon empties an almost full half-gallon of milk down the drain. His kitchen is small but looks to be well used, which you appreciate. You know almost nothing about this man, other than his name- if ‘Aegon’ was even his real name- and the name of his dog, and yet here you were, standing in the threshold of his kitchen with a strange sense of comfortability as if you had been lifelong pals. 

“Water is fine,” you tell him. 

He produces a bottle of water from his fridge and tosses it over to you with ease and goes back to the stove. You step further into the kitchen, taking in your surroundings. The kitchen, like the living room, is covered in artwork and vintage decor- things you’d only find in some obscure thrift store or estate sale. On the refrigerator are a collection of magnets from different cities and countries, real touristy type shit. Some of them even had names on them; Alexander, Aaron, Alistair, Alan, Adolf. 

Maybe these are the names of people he’s killed. 

“You travel a lot?” You ask, trying to keep the conversation going.

“I try to,” he says from over his shoulder as he continues to stir the sauce. You can hear him set the lid back on the pot. “Most of those are from my sister, Helaena. She thinks it’s hilarious to give me magnets with random ‘A’ names since you’ll never find the name Aegon on any of those,” he says from behind you. He’s leaning against the counter with a half glass of wine. You quirk an eyebrow at him, not fully convinced. “She has a few from me that say Helen.”

“Is that her?” You ask, finger pointing to a pretty blonde in one of the many photographs he had pinned up.

He nods and takes a step closer to you. He’s so close that you can feel his warmth, smell his aftershave. The proximity causes you to blush and he smirks in response, leaning over your shoulder as he points to the other people in the pictures. “Those two are my little brothers, Aemond and Daeron,” he claims and then points to two women. “That’s my half-sister, Rhae, and next to her is my mother.”

“The redhead?” You ask surprised, given she didn’t look like she could be old enough to have four grown children. He nods and takes a step back, leaning against the counter with half-lidded eyes and a tipsy blush. “She looks like she could be your sister,” you say softly, turning back to glance at all of the faces; he seemed proud of his family, like they were very close. 

You turn away from the fridge and lean against the counter at his side. It’s quiet for a moment, save for the music and the sound of boiling water where the noodles were cooking. You look at him and the corners of your lips can’t help but twist up into a shy smile, but you bite at the inside of your cheek out of nervous habit. He props himself up on his elbows, taking a sip of his wine, clearly comfortable with the silence. 

“So,” you look up at him and his little smirk grows. “About the job…”

“Ah, yes,” he nods. “As I stated earlier, I won’t be able to pay you a monetary wage, but the position does come with a benefits package.”

“And what exactly would this benefits package include?” There’s an innocent flirtatiousness in your voice that only adds to the tension. 

“Outside of the free gourmet meals that I would be providin’ to ya, which is obviously the most important part,” he smiles and steps to the side to grab a spoon from the drawer and holds it out to you. Your fingers softly close around his as you pluck the utensil from his grasp. He clears his throat to distract from the fact that he was visibly flustered from the slight touch. “There’s also unlimited cuddle sessions,” before he can finish, you shoot him a look. “With Sunfyre, of course! He’s the real boss ‘round here, after all.” 

“Cuddling with the boss?” You quirk an eyebrow and look down at the golden retriever, his eyes round and gleaming; clearly waiting for a hand-out. “Sounds like a conflict of interest to me.”

“Well, if it’s a conflict of interest you’re worried about,” he counters quickly with a soft yet playful tone. “I s’pose we could renegotiate the terms of the agreement and you could have me instead.” 

“I’m listening.”

“He might be better at cuddling for obvious reasons and he might be better lookin’,” Aegon continues. “But, I give better backrubs. I mean, I have thumbs and he don’t. You can’t give decent backrubs without thumbs, can you? Plus, he’s a sloppy kisser.” 

“Oh, you’re really trying to sweeten the deal now, huh? Backrubs and kisses? I must admit, that is quite a compelling offer,” you muse. “It seems my decision hinders on whether or not you can actually cook, wouldn’t want to accept the position blindly, now would I?”

“Are ya doubtin’ my skills?” He asked playfully. 

“No offense, but you possess the aura of someone who could fuck up a can of Spaghettios,” you tell him with a sincere smile. “So, forgive me if I don't get my hopes up.”

Aegon laughs and it’s a warm and infectious sound that fills the kitchen. It’s genuine, as is his perfect smile. You can’t seem to keep yourself from staring; eyes softly tracing every detail of his face– from his full, pink pout, to the scar above his right eyebrow, and the dimple of his chin– thinking to yourself that you’ve never seen a man more beautiful. His smile turns back into a smirk as he notices you staring at his lips and you look up to meet his eyes. There’s something about the way he looks at you that leaves you feeling vulnerable. His gaze softens as you look away, turning your attention back to the spaghetti sauce on the stove in front of you to distract yourself from the blush creeping up your neck.

There’s only one way this night ends.

It was obvious before you even left your house and it was certainly obvious now. 

“Go on, then,” he prods, motioning to the pot on the stovetop.

His eyes are wide with anticipation as you dip into the simmering sauce, stirring it a few times before bringing the spoon to your lips. He’s nervous; it’s his mother’s recipe– one he’s spent years perfecting– but with his luck, you will most likely think it’s steaming garbage. Yet, he watches intently; holding his breath as your perfect lips curl to blow softly, cooling the sauce before you finally taste it. 

The moment the spoon touches your tongue, you're determined to remain impartial. After all, you’ve had your fair share of disappointing meals from men who’ve claimed to be great cooks. Aegon certainly could be the very latest and you wouldn’t be at all surprised. So, you keep your expectations low, and try your hardest to remain stoic, but as the flavors begin to unfold, you can feel your resolve wavering. 

It’s good. Better than most. 

Reluctantly, you have to admit that this is the second-best sauce you’ve ever had, right after your grandmother’s. You glance up at Aegon, who’s watching you with a mix of anxiety and hope, and you can’t help but smile. 

“I have to give it to you,” you say, your voice betraying a hint of admiration. “This is incredible. Almost as good as my grandmother’s.”

The relief and pride that spread across his face makes your heart flutter. 

“Yeah?” He asks with a toothy grin. 

“I’m still not completely convinced that you can actually cook, but you can– at the very least– make some top-notch spaghetti sauce,” you tell him as you place your spoon to the side. 

“Top-notch, eh?” He asks playfully as he begins plating your meal. “I’ll take it.” 

“Don’t let it get to your head,” you say to him with a laugh. “It’s just spaghetti sauce.” 

“Just spaghetti sauce? Don’t let my mum hear you say that,” he says with a smirk, setting a full plate in front of you on the counter. “I guess I’ll just have to work extra hard on the next one.”

“Assuming there will be a next one,” you reply, tone dripping with playful sarcasm. “Though, you have set the bar pretty high tonight. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“Well,” he murmurs as he steps closer, his body brushing against yours as he reaches around you to grab a plate. His lips are hovering above the shell of your ear, his voice low and teasing, causing your cheeks to immediately flush as the heat between the two of you intensifies. “I’m nothing if not a perfectionist.”

For a split second you expect for him to lean in for a kiss. Your heart is simultaneously skipping beats and racing at the same time; your breath catching in your throat as he leans in— But then he smirks, grabbing the plate and taking a step backwards. He’s doing it on purpose, you realize; his proximity expertly calculated to keep you on edge. You look up at him with wide, sparkling eyes and he knows he’s got you right where he wants you. The soft blush of your cheeks has his blood pumping and sends a surge of adrenaline through him. He’s trying his absolute best to play it cool but the way you’re biting your lip and looking at him has him unraveling.

“Is that so?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. “What other skills do you have up your sleeve?”

His grin widens as he looks down at you, setting his empty plate to the side. His gaze, once again, drops to your lips. “I have a few tricks,” he says softly, his voice filled with promise. “But I doubt you’d believe me if I told you, so how about I just show you?” 

“What?” You ask with a playful innocence. “Before dinner?”

“I’m not really in the mood for spaghetti anymore.” 

“Oh?” Your smirk is only growing. “What are you in the mood for?”

Aegon says nothing, but a confident grin tugs at the corners of his lips as he rests his hands on your hips. He doesn’t hesitate to pull you in by the waist, until you’re pressed against him and his lips are on yours. The kiss is both gentle and urgent and a little bit awkward, as any first kiss should be. You felt like a teenager again, kissing a boy for the first time– butterflies in your stomach and all.

It takes no time at all for you to find your rhythm with him, and he deepens the kiss, pushing you up onto the kitchen counter to meet his height. Your arms naturally drape across his shoulders, your legs wrap around his middle. He’s completely taken over your mind, filling up every tiny space that he can fit into; the smell of his cologne, the scratch of his stubble against your skin, the feeling of his hands squeezing the flesh of your thighs– his fingertips teasing just underneath the hem of your shorts. 

Breathless, he pulls away from you as he pulls your sweatshirt over your head. He stops for a moment to take in the sight of you; clad only in your bra and shorts, lips red and blotchy, swollen and full. You’re looking up at him from under your lashes, softly biting your bottom lip as you wait for him to continue. He gently lifts his hand up to your cheek and traces the curve of your cupid’s bow with his thumb, providing one last show of tenderness before he leans in to capture your lips in another searing kiss. 

His touch is suddenly rushed; spreading a wildfire across your skin in the wake of his lips as he rips off the remainder of your clothes. It doesn’t take long at all before you’re sitting exposed on his kitchen counter in only a thong, blushing wildly and covering your face with your hands. 

“No– no hiding,” he clicks his tongue and pulls your hands away from your face. “I want to see you.”

He whispers a string of profanities and compliments as his starving eyes roam your figure. Self-doubt creeps into your mind and you momentarily consider making a quick exit, convinced he won’t like what he sees, but the way he’s looking at you makes you feel desired in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. 

Aegon’s gaze is electrifying and intense, drawing you in and silencing your negative thoughts instantly. His hands pull you in by the waist, sliding you to the edge of the counter as his lips work their way down your chin and neck; leaving a trail of red marks down to your chest. He hums, smirking as he takes one of your breasts in his mouth. His hand kneads the other, rolling your hardened nipple between two fingers. Your head falls back, lips parted slightly as you breathe out his name. 

Each sound he elicits from you urges him on even further until he’s on one knee, looking up at you from his position with those pretty eyes. He runs a hand up the back of your calf, softly teasing you with his fingertips before tossing your leg over his shoulder. You knew where he was going, and yet, you were still surprised as he began placing open mouthed kisses on the inside of your thighs; shivering in anticipation as goosebumps formed on your skin. 

“You’re so wet,” he says proudly, praising you. 

His eyes are locked with yours as his fingers delicately smooth over your clothed clit. He hooks a finger around the dampened cotton and pulls your thong to the side, groaning at the sight of your perfect pussy. Without wasting another second, Aegon’s mouth is suddenly on you and your hands immediately find the back of his head; fingers curling into the roots of his silver hair. 

You roll your hips against his tongue, cursing out as your legs begin to shake. He moans, face still buried deep in you and the vibrations have you writhing. Both of his arms are wrapped around your thighs now, holding you tight to him, not letting up for even a second. Then he stands, lifting you up onto his shoulders. You squeal in shock, holding onto him tightly, but he doesn’t stop; he continues to devour you as he blindly carries you towards his bedroom. 

When his knees hit the side of his bed, he tosses you back onto the mattress. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows and watch as he strips out of his clothes. . You can see the outline of his arousal; prominent and pressing firmly against the fabric of his sweats. You bite your lip at the sight and he smirks as he catches your stare. His movements are unhurried, giving you ample time to appreciate the sight before you. His hoodie and shirt come off first, then his sweats, and you can’t help but notice the way that his muscles flex with each motion. He’s not overly built, but there’s a solid strength in his frame that is evident in the way he moves.

Outside, headlights from passing cars cast streaks of light and shadows across the walls of his room. It’s quiet, the music in the other room has stopped playing and all you can hear is the sound of your own heart beating in your ears. You swallow thickly, encompassed by the tension of the moment as he crawls up the length of your body; placing tender kisses along your skin. His lips leave a trail of warmth, each touch igniting a spark that travels through your entire body.

When he reaches your face, he pauses, his breath mingling with yours as he hovers just inches away. The anticipation builds, thick and electric in the air between you. His lips find yours in a kiss that starts slow and tender but quickly deepens; fingers threading through your hair as he pulls you closer, his body pressing yours deeper into the plush mattress. Your hands explore his back, tracing the contours of his muscles, feeling the tension and strength beneath his skin and coming to rest on his shoulders; gripping tightly as he continues to worship your body with his mouth. Each kiss, each touch, is deliberate, heightening your senses and pulling you further into the moment.

You curse at the feeling of his girth against your entrance. Your hand moves up to the back of his neck, pulling him down to meet your lips as he presses slowly into you. 

“Oh fuck,” he whimpers into the crook of your neck as his arms become weak. 

He knows that he won’t last like this; it’s been a while and you feel way too good. He’s slow at first, wanting to steady himself and maintain control, but his rhythm picks up quickly; hips moving with an unrelenting rhythm, each thrust bringing you both closer to the edge. You can feel his muscles tense, his grip on you tightening as he buries his face in your neck. His moans are a mix of pleasure and desperation, and you can tell he’s fighting to hold back.

You tighten your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, feeling the overwhelming need to reach that peak together. His pace quickens, the tension in his body building to a breaking point. You feel the same pressure inside of you mounting before it’s suddenly crashing over you like a wave. He follows seconds later, a low groan escaping his lips as he spills into you. The intensity of the moment leaves you both breathless and clinging to each other, bathing in the afterglow. 

“That was incredible,” he murmurs against your skin, head pressed to your chest as you stroke his hair softly. His eyes flutter shut as he listens to the sounds of your heartbeat. 

You hum in agreement, smiling to yourself as you savor the peacefulness of the moment. 

Suddenly, you’re joined by Sunfyre jumping up on the bed, his tail wagging enthusiastically. You smile at him and pat the empty space next to you, inviting him to join your cuddle session. He eagerly accepts the invitation, circling the bed a few times before snuggling up next to you. Aegon lifts his head and smiles, clearly pleased that you would be so open to having the dog in bed with you. He wraps his arm around both you and Sunfyre, pulling you closer. 

“This is perfect,” he says softly, his voice filled with contentment as he lays his head back on your chest. 

"So, about that job offer," you say playfully, your fingers tracing patterns along his skin. "I think I'll accept the position. When would you like for me to start?"

He lifts his head to look at you, a playful glint in his eyes. “How about tomorrow night at seven?”

Before you can respond, a distinct burning smell reaches your nose. Your brows furrow as you sniff the air. “Do you smell that?”

Aegon’s eyes widen in realization. “The spaghetti!” 

He jumps up from the bed, pulling on his clothes quickly, and scrambles into the kitchen. You follow behind him, tossing one of his t-shirts over your head and meet him in the kitchen. 

“I guess I forgot to turn off the burner,” Aegon looks disappointed but then chuckles, shaking his head. He looks at you with a glint in his eye and smirks. “Occupational hazard, I guess.”

“Oh, that sucks!” You laugh, playfully nudging him. “Is it too late to back out of the job now?”

“Way too late for that,” he says as he pulls you into a soft kiss, silencing any doubts immediately. “You’re mine now.” 

“Mm,” you hum against his lips. “But I came here for the spaghetti.”

He chuckles and pulls back slightly. “Will you settle for pizza?”

“I’ll settle for anything, as long as it’s with you,” you say with a smile as you wrap your arms around his waist. “And as long as there’s extra cheese!”

[norrisainz33]

European getaway || cs55

☆ summary: y/n goes on a vacation to spain and ends up meeting carlos sainz by chance. tho she has no idea her european fling is actually a very successful f1 driver

☆ pairing: carlos sainz x nonfamous!reader

☆ fc & warnings: none

☆ requested: yes! thank you sm for this wonderful request

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

ynuser has made a post 🔒

liked by yourbff, yoursibling, friend2, friend 3 and 101 others

ynuser: i could get used to this! me encanta espana

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yourbff: petition for us to stay in spain forever

ynuser: time to find our spanish husbands so we never have to leave!

yoursibling: europe looks good on u

ynuser: thanks b 💅🏻

friend3: always serving fits girl

ynuser: half of my clothes are stolen from you

friend2: obsessed with you

ynuser: obsessed with you bb

ynuser has added to their story 🔒

[1. girls night out ahead. 2. guys i met a hot man at this club. 3. hehe he’s taking me home. we stayed out so late it’s almost light again]

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yourbff: we look cute

yourbff: wait he’s hotter than i originally thought hold up 🤤🤤

yourbff: did you even get his name???? how am i supposed to make sure ur safe if i don’t know his name

ynuser: dude he’s so hot it’s insane and his name is carlos

ynuser: i’m with him at his hotel rn and this man has to be loaded this is the nicest hotel i’ve ever stepped foot in.

yourbff: hot AND rich AND sweet AND a gentleman???????? what is in the water here in spain

ynuser: i just googled his watch that he’s wearing and it’s $300k

yourbff: ok tea……y/n/n i’m so serious you are living every girls dream rn including mine

ynuser: i think i love him

yourbff: ok , maybe it’s time for you to come back to the hotel and get some sleep

ynuser: ugh you’re so right.

ynuser: he called me a driver , i’ll be back soon

yourbff: PLEASE TELL ME TOU GOT HIS NUMBER

ynuser: more than that 🤭 him and his friend are going to take us out for dinner tomorrow and show us around town 😫😍🫶🏻

yourbff: OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG

yoursibling: girl you wildin and i love it. stay safe pls

ynuser: yes of course bb

friend3: why that man kinda look familiar

ynuser: if u figure it out lmk

ynuser has added to their story 🔒

[1. sightseeing courtesy of our new friend carlos. 3. looks like we found ourselves some dates 😉]

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friend2: y/n are you sharing churros con chocolate with a MAN

ynuser: YES

ynuser: i’ve been caught

friend2: you sneak.. i need every single detail

yourbff: i feel like we are in a movie for real

ynuser: i think we might be

yoursibling: how is it that you and y/bff/n always end up in these sorts of romance novel type situations

ynuser: it’s bc we are the it girls 💅🏻

carlossainz55 had added to his story

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user1: what are you doing in madrid carlos

user2: OMG WHO IS THAT IN THE SECOND SLIDE CARLOSSSSS

landonorris: and what do we have here 👀

carlossainz55: just some travels in spain!

landonorris: with a girl??

carlossainz55: good catch 😉

landonorris: DETAILS?!

carlossainz55: if you must know and you promise to keep it secret

landonorris: of course mate

carlossainz55: i met this gorgeous girl in a club in barcelona and we hit it off. she doesn’t know im a driver she just thinks im a guy on holiday and its been rather refreshing so now im showing her around spain

landonorris: i support you in this brother but you know you’re gonna have to explain the whole famous thing at some point

carlossainz55: i know i know

user3: just fell to my knees is this a soft launch

charlesleclerc: enjoying break i see 😏

carlossainz55: yes i am 😏

user4: everyone stay calm!!!! stay CALM

user5: so little info here how am i supposed to find this girl by her shoes 🫣

user6: can’t wait till f1gossip sees this

ynuser has added to their story 🔒

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yoursibling: hold up did HE COME WITJ YOU GUYS

ynuser: yes 🤭

ynuser: when i tell you i think i met the love of my life

yoursibling: ugh i’m so jealous but also so happy for you!! you deserve this

friend2: bruh he’s fine as heck what is going on here

ynuser: no i know

yourbff: wait send me the pic of carlos and teto carrying our luggage pls im begging

ynuser: done and done

friend3: y/n y/m/n y/l/n have you ever seen a formula 1 race before

ynuser: you mean like the race cars?

friend3: yes the race cars!!!! i’m 99.9% sure that man in your photos drives for the FERRARI F1 TEAM. THAT IS THE CARLOS SAINZ

ynuser: oh my god… you’re right …….. he’s a FAMOUS FERRARI DRIVER?!

ynuser: oh my god he has 10 million followers

friend3: how did you NOT know this!!!!!!!!

ynuser: idk!!! i don’t follow f1!!!

friend3: well now you legally have to

ynuser: clearly omg

friend3: YOURE THE GIRL IN HIS STORY OFNEKGN

ynuser: OMG I AM

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, user6, and 4,255 others

f1gossip: carlos sainz has been spotted getting cozy with a mystery girl in madrid! we think this has got to be the girl who was in the story carlos posted a few days ago. they’ve also been spotted out at dinner with another woman and who we believe to be teto!! no information on who they are just yet but seem by all accounts to not be anyone we know

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user1: when will it be my turn!!!!

user2: that should be me 😭😭😭 happy for her i guess 😭😭😫😫

user3: so he was soft launching someone

user4: happy for him ig

friend3: ynuser girl

ynuser: oh my god

friend2: girl oh my god

yourbff: omg stop ???? is this movie about us???

user6: do you all know something we don’t

user3: no bc your profile pics kinda be similar to the girl in the pics f1 gossip posted 👀

user6: carlos doesn’t follow them yet but maybe that’ll change

user3: WAIT IT SAYS HES FOLLOWING YNUSER NOW

user5: i am so envious

ynuser has added to their story 🔒

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friend3: ok so the fan girls have found us it seems

ynuser: they really have… i have 2,694 follower requests right now

yourbff: the f1gossip account is trying to contact me,, they’re literally in my dms rn…. you look hot tho 😘😍😫

ynuser: they’re also trying to message me too. never thought our trip to spain would end up like this (i’m not complaining this is just a little overwhelming)

yourbff: me neither but if it had to happen i’m glad you met carlos!! you two seem like genuinely really well matched. i know it’s only been like…. 3 weeks but im stanning and shipping y/ncarlos so hard

ynuser: 😮‍💨😭 y/ncarlos omg stop hahaha

ynuser: i’m planning to put him in my pocket and take him back to the states with us

carlossainz55: ay dios mío hermosa chica 😍😍

ynuser: 🤭 you’re making me blush

carlossainz55: good, it’s cute when you blush

ynuser: you really have 10 million followers and drive for the scuderia ferrari huh

carlossainz55: yes mi amor. im sorry for not telling you sooner… i just really was enjoying getting to know you as just carlos and not as the ferrari driver

ynuser: and that makes sense i just … this is all just a bit intimidating

carlossainz55: no reason to be intimidated, i’m still just carlos 🥺

ynuser: if you say so

carlossainz55: i do say so hermosa🤍

carlossainz55: now that the cat is out of the bag…. do you want to come watch me race?

ynuser: you want me to come to one of your races?

carlossainz55: only if you want to! no pressure at all tho y/n/n

ynuser: i’d love to 😫

carlossainz55: i was hoping you’d say that. i’ll make arrangements for you to come to monza 😉

ynuser: italy?! omg i’ve never been to italy!!!!

carlossainz55: never?! oh boy then i have quite the time planned for us

landonorris: i feel like an elite member of a very exclusive club for being able to follow

ynuser: you are!! only 231 other people have the privilege

friend2: please send lando norris my number i see he’s following you now

ynuser: HAHAHAAH i respect the hustle. i tell him about you when i meet him in person in 2 weeks

friend2: IN PWROSN Y/N WHAT

yoursibling: bestie why are race car fan accounts trying to contact me all the sudden

ynuser: so you know that man i’ve been seeing while in spain with y/bff/n? turns out he’s a very famous formula 1 driver

yoursibling: you’ve got to be kidding me

ynuser: i am being very for real

ynuser has made a post 🔒

liked by carlossainz55, yourbff, yoursibling, friend2, landonorris, friend3, and 102 others

ynuser: thank you to spain for literally changing my life

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friend2: omg that’s where my sunglasses went 🙄

ynuser: idk what you’re talking abt 🤭

yourbff: thanks for going on the trip of a lifetime with me y/n/n

ynuser: i love you bestie 🫶🏻

carlossainz55: and thank you to the universe for crossing our paths 🥹

ynuser: thank you universe, i am forever grateful 😫

landonorris: ok cool girl alert

ynuser: you know it

friend3: i’m not sure how to act normal in these comments y/n

ynuser: me neither

yoursibling: you’re never coming home after italy in a few weeks are you

ynuser: nope!

carlossainz55 has made a post

liked by user1, charlesleclerc, scuderiaferrari, ynuser, yourbff, landonorris, yoursibling, and 783,102 others

carlossainz55: happy for the team, charles and the tifosi. it’s a shame i missed the podium but at least i got to spend my birthday with my favorite girl. until next time monza!

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user2: ohhhhhh a hard launch

user3: i wish he got a podium in his last monza in a ferrari

charlesleclerc: ❤️ thank you chili

alexandrasaintmleux: cuties 🤍

user4: this hard launch is distracting me from the immense sadness, thanks carlos

user55: she’s living my dream your honor

ynuser: feliz cumpleaños mi amor

carlossainz55: gracias princessa

ynuser: gracias por una semana perfecta [thank you for a perfect week]

carlossainz55: de nada 🤍

user10: you did all you could carlos

scuderiaferrari: we are proud of you chili

user16: you and your big brain still did amazing

yourbff: you did great carlos!

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: likes and reblogs appreciated!! i quite liked this one and hope you did too

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[monstersflashlight]

Maybe a Alien male x female reader. The humanoid (not sure if this is the right description to use but they kind of have the general silhouette of a human/some humanish features) Alien has a mate for life/soulmate situation and can be pretty pathetic (ex: please please please rizz meme) and maybe cries a lot. They meet reader and shenanigans ensue as they keep pursuing her. Maybe they meet at a Galaxy match making company that Reader accidentally signs up for or something or in the middle of a intergalactic space station.

Hi anon! This was SO FUN to write, love it. Hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

Domming the alien

Alien x fem!reader || mating, praise kink, dom/sub dynamic (dom reader), bondage (light)

When the genetic testing showed that you were matched with some kind of alien, you were a bit more than shook. You thought those kind of things didn’t happen to women like you, but there you were, waiting for your perfect match in an intergalactic space station. Like… what the fuck was your life?

The naga assistant who brought you there told you about his alien species, about what you should expect knowing you are an alien’s mate. But you barely paid attention to her as you looked across the room, transfixed by him. He looked humanoid enough, his eyes a bit too big, his nose a bit too flat, his hair a bit too rubbery and his torso a bit too long. He looked almost humanoid… Apart from the bright orange coloring. And you were weirdly attracted to him.

The naga was talking as you two approached him, but neither of you payed any attention to her. The first thing he said to you was: “You are so pretty…” His eyes were bright, like there was some kind of light shining from within, and you were mesmerized.

“Thanks. You aren’t so bad yourself,” you joked, trying to catch your breath after seeing such a precious creature.

But he wasn’t giving you any time to catch it. “You are perfect. My pretty mate…” His tone was reverent, like you were the best thing that ever happened to him, and you could only stare at him.

And it all went from there. He became the best boyfriend in the world, in the whole galaxy. He studied all human customs and courts you like a professional. He brought you flowers, video-games, sweets… Anything you could wish for he offered, and you were on cloud nine. Better than that, you are in space, with the best alien you could have wished for.

But nothing prepared you for the first time you (physically) mated.

You are just chilling in his space apartment when he clears his throat and asks: “Would you… would you couple with me?” You look at him confused, not even having time to process before he starts begging. “Please, please, please…”

You look at him like he’s crazy. You already had sex a bunch of times, you are very familiar with his body and he is with yours. “What do you mean?” You ask, completely baffled by his question.

“In my culture we… Males are… I’ve seen some human coupling videos and the male is always so rough with females but us… With mates... It’s not like that.” He says it like it’s a secret, like it’s a huge deal for him that you are even considering giving him what he’s asking for.

And then it clicks.

You smirk up at him, your hands grabbing his cheeks softly and pulling him down, at eye level. “You want me to dominate you, sweetheart?” You enunciate each word slowly and with intent, your insides burning up at the idea of domming him.

He nods rapidly, eagerly, like the most precious alien puppy. “Please…” He repeats. You smile at him tenderly, kissing his flat nose.

“Okay, sweetheart. Strip, lay down, I’m going to tie you down.” You instruct, getting into your dom persona easily. It’s been a long time, but it feels great to dom him, it feels fated.

You look at he moves around the room, stripping and almost vibrating with anticipation and pent up sexual frustration. He lays down like a good alien and pulls his hands up, letting you tie him up with one of the space ropes that you are more than sure weren’t designed for that. But they would do, they are sturdy and soft, and you make sure to leave enough room so he can’t hurt himself. You tie his legs next, spreading him completely and smirking down at his submissive form.

He holds for like two seconds before he’s begging. “Please, please, please… Mate, please.” He sounds so good that you have to swallow a moan. You strip down slowly, looking at him squirming against the restrains.

“I like when you beg. But I like it even more when you whine.” You graze your nails over the ridges on his chest and he cries out, whining and moaning like you are subjecting him to the most amazing torture. “Come on, sweetheart, can you come from this? Can you come for me just caressing your skin?” The power trip is exhilarating, having such a big alien under you, trusting you to dom him, to make him cum, is driving you insane in the best way possible.

“Ye- yes. Please.” He can’t stop saying please and it shouldn’t make you as happy as it does.

You caress his skin for a bit more, the ridges on his chest so sensitive he’s screaming by the time you get him to come. “Good alien, such a good boy for me.” Your words make him shiver as the last shot of his green come spurs from his dick. He whines as you keep grazing your nails over his ridges, not letting him catch his breath. “Can you do it again? Can you keep going until I’m tired of playing with your pretty cock? Until I’m ready to fuck myself on you?” You keep talking as he moans. You rub your thighs together, trying to get some relief for yourself, but rapidly focusing back on him. He looks so pretty tied down for you, coming and crying.

He says something similar to a yes, but it’s rapidly lost in the throaty moan he lets out as you grab his erection with a bit too much force. The mixture of pain and pleasure make his eyes roll back into his head as his chest flushes in the best shade of orange. You smile at him, leaning down to trace his ridges with your tongue, nipping at them lightly. He cries out so loudly that you stop your movements, scared that you hurt him. But then you realize there’s some green come over your hand that wasn’t there a couple seconds before.

“Did you just come?” You try not to laugh, but a chuckle escapes your lips as he blushes deeper orange, almost red. He looks at you with unfocused eyes and tears rolling down his cheeks. He lets out such a pathetic sound that you shush him softly, patting his abdomen and climbing on top of him. “It’s okay, you are doing so good. Are you ready for me, sweetheart?” You ask, your pussy close to his abdomen.

“Yes. Yes. Yes. Please,” his begging is so great you have to bite down on your tongue to avoid moaning like a whore.

You sit on his abdomen and start grinding slowly, but your hips have a mind of its own and before you realize, you are rubbing your dripping pussy across his abdomen until his ridges are glistening with your desire. He keeps begging and groaning, making you even wetter. By the time you slip his dick inside, he’s a mess of tears and drool, so oversensitive with your previous actions that he cries out when he hits deep inside of you.

You groan and start riding him like you mean it, like you are a cowgirl on a mission and he’s just a toy for you to fuck. His eyes are rolled back and he’s moving his hips soft and slow, the restrains avoiding too much movement. You don’t care, your nails are grazing his ridges as you ride him, and when you come around his cock, he screams your name as he faints, his body pliant under you as you chuckle…

Maybe he wasn’t all that ready to be dommed by a human.

[moonlinos]

Don’t let me love you (Siren part II)

♡ Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin × fem!reader

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

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

♡ Word count: 15.7k

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

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

← part I

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And are you going to the club tonight?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The man snickers. “Yeah?”

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

You use it with him almost every night.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, the restaurant was nice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t think so.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“In your dreams,” you shakily breathe out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he has to teach you a lesson tonight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You still think you’re in control.

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

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

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

“Does it feel good, baby?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Or I’ll lose my fucking job.”

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

At least by Hyunjin.

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

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

Clearly, you were mistaken.

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was all it took to ignite your curiosity.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s so fucking hot, isn’t he?”

Your brows knit together. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of course.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you don’t want to do that.

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

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

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

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

It’s not Hyunjin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It wasn’t anything like having sex with you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry,” you simply say.

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

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

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

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

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

Hyunjin scoffs. “That was kinda obvious.”

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

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

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

You open your lips, but no words come out.

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

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

The guy you so proudly declared unworthy of falling for.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It sends your entire body ablaze.

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

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

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

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

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

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

This time was different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another brick down.

You discover Hyunjin’s love for photography by accident.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another brick down.

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

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

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

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

You found you loved both sides of him equally.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As much as you were desperate for it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because you knew him.

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

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

[6kuna]

Dilf! Sukuna would be one of those guys that defend women in danger+ would also be so bad at rizzing girls up that he just sounds desperate and pathetic[endearing]

“You’re the new teacher? I didn’t know they hired young girls these days. I wouldn’t even be surprised if you’d be the reason my son is getting his abc’s” he says as he looks at you up and down savoring every curve and line of your

You gave the parent a benefit of the doubt and took whatever he said as a compliment all while returning his “compliment” with an awkward chuckle.

“Thank you…”

“Say…if you come by my house and give some private lessons for him I’m more than capable to pay you more than the school does” he says smirking hiding the perversed meaning behind his shit request.

It’s the first time some weird parent tries to pull this type of behaviour on you the whole interaction leaves you in shock as you smile awkwardly trying to find the right words to respond and the patience to not punch him in the face. Your heart beats rapidly with your fists turning clammy and white from anxiety of not knowing what or how to respond to the fool of a parent.

“MISS Y/N I MISSED YOUUUUU” a familiar pink haired kid comes running as he gives you a hug. Shocked was an understatement by you were more than grateful for Yuuji to intervene.

“you know me and your teacher were having a conversation don’t your parents tell you that it’s rude to interrupt adults” The random parent says giving Yuuji a fake smile.

“Yeah? I’m the parent.” Sukuna says curtly with the most unamused expression known to man.

The male turns around to take a look at whoever the parent of the funky insolent child only to be greeted by a 6’5 fully tatted male who looked like he was more than capable to break his bones with just a simple flick. It also didn’t help the fact that Sukuna’s aura(lol) was more than threatening enough on its own without having to say a single word.

“I guess kids these days don’t learn enough manners I’ll take my leave for now” the inferior male says gulping as he puts up a front before scrunching up his face as he walks away.

Sukuna glares daggers at the stupid fool making sure he leaves the vicinity.

A huge breath of relief was let out as you kneeled down onto Yuuji’s height thanking him and his scarily hot dad for saving you from whatever the situation was.

“You guys have no idea how thankful i am, Yuuji you and your dad literally saved me”

“WE KNOWWWW, Hiro’s dad is a bit creepy” Yuuji says happily as he brings out a couple of souvenirs from his summer trip with his family to you before running into the building excitedly leaving you and his dad alone.

“Did he ask you if you for private lessons?” Sukuna asks with a smug smile

“Yes- what how did you know?!”

“He’s a douche and a weirdo he says that to every new teacher even the volunteers. I hope you’re okay after that interaction” Sukuna scoffs annoyed at the male’s behaviour. Knowing that Sukuna at his prime would’ve beaten the hell out of the weirdo for making women uncomfortable.

“I’m fine honestly I wish I could return the favour i don’t even know what i would’ve done if you and Yuuji didn’t come by” you say in a appreciative tone

Sukuna upon hearing this immediately takes the opportunity to ask you on something that has been on the back of his mind from the moment he laid eyes on you.

“You can return the favour by coming by my place for dinner I’ll cook, I can even pick you up just let me know when you’re free” he says in the spur of the moment not noticing he sounds like a desperate, desperate man.

You were so shocked at Sukuna’s abrupt response to the point you could literally feel the heat rising onto your cheeks making you smile sheepishly before bursting out in laughter.

“I didn’t think you would ask me that, but im free anytime on Saturday is it fine with you?”

“Saturday? Perfect” he says grinning as he sees you walking away he came to his senses realising he forgot to ask for your number

“You didn’t give me your number” he says from afar

It was your turn to leave him into the flustering mess. You smirked looking back at the giant of a male waiting for your response.

“I have yours don’t worry i’ll text you later” you say playfully.

It was true you do have his number. You’ve saved it from the moment he sent Yuuji on the first day.

Sukuna was lucky enough he didn’t have whatever his dad had cause frankly Sukuna would’ve probably gone into cardiac arrest with that statement alone. With that it is settled Yuuji will be sent off to Toji’s house for a sleepover while his dad gets straight to business.

Edit:not proofread was done when im literally ten secons awya from asleep i appoliguse for shit writing

[ryukatters]

it's your fault for loving me — y. okkotsu ⁺˚⋆｡°✩

⟡ pairing: yuuta okkotsu x fem!reader

⟡ cw: /DARK CONTENT, /yandere! yuuta, /dubcon, /NONCON, ex-bf!yuuta, stalking, he breaks into your apartment, he /manhandles you (he’s strong), /implied babytrapping, /possessiveness, MINORS DNI

⟡ wc: 2.9k (someone sedate me)

⟡ song inspo: language by brent faiyaz

⟡ summary: Your ex boyfriend breaks into your apartment. What do you mean he needs to leave? He’s staying right here.

The slow, muffled drag of your feet ricochet off the hallway walls as you trudge along to your apartment. You fumble with your keys for a little bit, but find no resistance as you insert it into the slot. 

“Huh, that’s odd…I could’ve sworn I locked it.”

You chalk it up to exhaustion. You're only practically ever home to sleep due to the way you've been throwing yourself onto mission after mission. Even now, sleep is a luxury you can barely afford. You kick off your shoes lazily, not bothering putting them in their rightful place on the shoe rack. 

Maybe before, you would have cared more about keeping the house tidy. Or maybe before, your loving boyfriend would pamper and coddle you the minute you opened the front door, so you never had to worry about the little details like putting your shoes in the right place.

You were exhausted. 

You wanted nothing more than to wash up and plop down onto your soft, soft bed. You don’t even make it to your bedroom door before you pause, anxiety prickling your nerves. 

You sense him before you see him. Yuuta’s cursed energy has always had a tendency to seep out whenever he was around you. Whether it’s a testament to how he’s able to fully relax in your presence or a display of raw power, you’re not sure. 

"You're home," a certain black-haired sorcerer chirps. "How was your mission?"

In the past, simply hearing Yuuta’s voice would be enough to melt away the pent up stress from a hard day of exorcizing curses. It’d soothe your aching muscles and tired soul as you let yourself be enveloped by the weight of his affection. But right now, it did everything except that. 

The shiver of excitement that used to run down your spine is replaced by trepidation caused by the only person who used to be able to comfort you. 

You know better than to ask how he knew you were on a mission, much less ask how he managed to break into your apartment. It seems he's been in here for a while, with the way he seems to have made himself at home on your bed, much like the way he used to before. 

"Why are you here?"

The question makes him sit up. 

“Because I missed you. Is that so bad?”

You want to laugh. The whole situation is all sorts of fucked up, and the two of you are talking about it the same way one would the weather.

“Yuuta, we broke up 2 months ago,” you press, vexation lacing your words. You could never imagine yourself using that tone on him. Yuuta’s always been so meticulous in loving you, in making sure you were happy.  He’s never given you a reason to be upset with him. But that was then, and this was now. 

You could say whatever you wanted to say. You were tired and definitely not in the mood to deal with a supposed burglar that happens to be in the form of your ex-boyfriend.

“I don’t remember agreeing to that,” he says simply.

“You walked out on me!”

“Because I thought you needed some space. And now I’m back. But I never said we were breaking up.” 

Space was an extremely generous term for what Yuuta gave you. If you could consider watching your every move from a distance, keeping tabs on who you talk to, and making sure you stay out of trouble secretly, “space.” He would never let you know that though. It’s too much, too soon.

He couldn't help it, not when his precious baby could get hurt. He’d never forgive himself if that happened.

“Come and sit, my love. You look so tired.” He pats the space next to him. You will your heart not to flutter at the familiar nickname. 

Your body moves before your brain can catch up. It’s almost like listening to him was muscle memory. You pause in your step, cross your arms, and glare at him. 

“Leave, Yuuta. I don’t want to see you.” The words rise from the very depths of your soul and spill out of your mouth like bile, burning and spiteful. It hurts to speak to him like this, even after he’d abandoned you with no hopes of return. 

“Sit, love.” A little more demanding this time. “I’m not repeating myself again.” 

The tension in the air is palpable, so thick you can cut it with a knife.

You take a seat. Yuuta doesn’t miss a beat before he has his hands on you. 

“Missed you,” his hand reaches out to cup your jaw, thumb rubbing against the plushness of your cheek. 

You’ve always been so soft, it’s one of the things Yuuta loves the most about you. 

You flinch. Blame it on the adrenaline coursing through your body like wildfire. Your fight or flight response is shot. Yuuta’s touch seems to rewrite everything that’s been hardwired into your brain. 

He presses a chaste kiss to your temple, before moving down to kiss the tip of your nose, and both of your cheeks. Each press of his lips leaves feels like it’s being seared into your flesh, a metaphorical branding iron of sorts— to show that you’re Yuuta’s and Yuuta’s only. 

Your mind goes blank when he sucks a kiss into the side of your neck, whimpering pathetically as he grazes his teeth along the sensitive skin. 

“We can’t do this,” you assert, but the words get stuck in your throat, so it comes out more as a whiny sigh. Your body seems to have a tendency to betray you when it comes to him.

“But we can,” Yuuta coos, pushing you down until your back is flat against the mattress. He takes both of your hands in his, lifting them up until they’re above your head, effectively pinning you in place. “We’re doing it right now, aren’t we?” 

Yuuta can appear pretty unassuming to outsiders. He’s quiet, reserved, almost meek. If one were to take a closer look, however, they’d realize that beneath that unostentatious front was a more commanding aura, one that forces you to submit to his whims with his sweet tongue and sensuous touches. Perfectly calculated, perfectly executed. 

"I fucking hate you,” you spit, thrashing against his hold, but to no avail. 

"No you don't,” Yuuta shuts you down with conviction. Like it’s the absolute truth— the kind that can’t be twisted or broken. It almost feels like he’s chastising you for thinking otherwise. “Take that back right now.”

To be honest, hearing those words stung more than any physical blow you could have ever landed on him. Has he not shown you enough love? Or have you already forgotten? 

Isn’t what you have pure love? 

A hand wraps around your neck, lithe fingers inching up before they grip your jaw, forcing you to look at him.  “I said,” blunt fingernails digging into your skin, “take it back.”

You sputter out an apology with teary eyes, an odd mix of humiliation and regret seeping into your bones, stomach swirling with shame and to your horror, a tinge of anticipation. 

It’s pathetic, really, how easily you give in. 

“Now give me a kiss, sweetheart.” Yuuta bridges the gap between the two of you. He presses his already throbbing bulge against your clothed pussy, moaning into your mouth appreciatively.

You feel so dizzy you think you might explode. 

Yuuta makes quick work of the buttons on your uniform, releasing your wrists so he can throw the offending garment and all your underthings beneath it to some random corner of the room. 

Calloused hands roam your body, squeezing and groping, as if to map out the cartography of your flesh, committing each peak and valley to memory. He watches in fascination how your skin bristles with goosebumps in the wake of his touch. 

He ignores your pleading cries and attempts to push him off. Yuuta is being driven by pure instinct alone. That sick, twisted voice in his head that he’s always tried to suppress whispers. It goads him on to take what he wants, to make sure you remember that you’re his, and his alone. 

He knows that you haven’t been seeing anyone. You were always so loyal, even when you were upset with him. Anyone who did try was taken care of the minute they left your sight. 

It’s been far too long since he’s had you. His desire fills him with a sort of quiet rage, one that metamorphoses into something darker, more sinister and morose the longer he goes without you. Almost like a curse that’s gone far too long without feeding. 

Yuuta Okkotsu loves you to the point of madness.

He thinks he might literally implode in on himself any second longer without you.

It’s almost laughable how different the two of you are. An ethereal beauty too good for this world, yet here you were in between the legs of a cursed man with too much love than he knows what to do with. 

“Yuuta, please,” you cry out. You flail your legs in an attempt to kick Yuuta off. He catches both with ease, throwing them over his shoulder to slide your bottoms off, leaving you completely bare. 

He can’t suppress the groan that tumbles past his lips. You’re even more beautiful than he remembers. 

You’re dewy eyed and gasping, nails clawing at his forearms and beating at his chest in a last ditch effort to stand your ground. Nothing can deter him. 

Yuuta could easily heal himself if he wanted to. But the angry red welts and blossoming hues of purple on his pale skin are a badge of honor of the utmost prestige. It’s undeniable proof that you’re real, that his love for you isn’t just a fragment of his imagination, and that none of this was just some pipe dream. He could take a little pain if that meant you got to be his. 

He’s always been yours without any reservations. 

“You can cry if you want, if it helps,” he says genuinely, but the gleam in his eyes shifts into something predatory. “But you should know you’re really fucking wet.” As if to prove a point, he slowly fucks his middle finger into your weeping hole, then his index, then his ring. They curl up to rub against that spongy spot just the way you like. 

You let out a sharp gasp, spine arching off the mattress. 

You tried to ignore him—detach yourself from the whole situation, let him get his fill, and be done with this whole ordeal. But it’s Yuuta— the man has a grasp on both the corporal and spiritual parts of you that you can’t bring yourself to understand. It seems like he knows you better than you know yourself sometimes. And right now, he’s managed to make a home in all five of your senses. There’s no escape. He's made sure of that. 

He pulls out his fingers with a lewd squelch. A clear sheen of liquid coats every digit, stringy as he parts them to show you. He smiles knowingly.

“You keep fighting me, but it turns out you want it after all, sweetheart.” 

Your cheeks burn in humiliation. Whether it’s from the situation at hand or the truth behind his words, you’re not too sure. 

“Don’t you know?” Yuuta rasps, fingers going back to work their way inside you rhythmically, bringing you closer and closer to the precipice, paying special attention to how you try to mask how your face contorts in pleasure. 

He presses his forehead against yours, willing you to look at him wordlessly. “I know what’s best for you. I know what you want. And right now, this little pussy wants to be fucked. Isn’t that right, my love?” 

He’s met with a breathless moan. You’re so close. Tears threaten to fall as your chest heaves in exertion, trying not to teeter off the edge too soon. 

You look so pathetic it’s insane. Yuuta swears he can feel his mouth water in anticipation for what’s bound to come next. He thrusts his fingers with calculating speed and precision, the heel of his palm slapping against your neglected clit just right. 

He leans down right when you cum, lips catching yours as you moan into his mouth. Satisfaction swells in his chest as your slick drips down his wrist. 

“You’re ready.” 

Yuuta unbuttons his pants, pulling it down just enough for his cock to spring free, tip slapping his abdomen as it leaks with precum. He fists it, jerking his hand up and down his length. He slaps it against your clit once, twice, and a third time before he slips it inside your weeping hole. 

Your walls spasm around his cock to accommodate his sheer size and girth, struggling a bit more than usual. You feel so full. It’s been far too long since he’s fucked you. You claw at his lower abdomen, trying to make space between the two of you. It’s all too much, all at once. Yuuta won’t have it. He slips his hands under your sweaty thighs, pinning your ankles on either side of your head, effectively folding you in half. You cry out at the stretch.

“Always take me so well, angel.” 

He sets a steady pace, dragging his cock in, pulling out, and then back in with an absurd amount of force. The sound of skin on skin ricochets against your bedroom walls like a sort of cacophonous symphony. You don’t get the luxury of the sweet, slow thrusts he usually blesses you with, while he coos about how good you are for him. 

“Where’s all that attitude from earlier? Am I making you feel that good?” 

You glower, refusing to acknowledge the fact that your body betrays your mind— that Yuuta’s bringing you closer and closer to nirvana the further he drags you down into hell. 

He slides his hand down your tummy, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts.

“Yuuta—!” You clench around his length, hurtling towards your second orgasm quickly. 

“You’re so greedy. Cumming again already?” 

He’s met with silence. He’ll forgive your transgressions this time around. He’ll just have to teach you how to be his good girl again. 

A particularly rough thrust has you choking back a moan.

“Thought so. Cum for me, sweetheart.”

Your peak hits you like a crashing wave. Your body tenses, leaving you gasping for air as you clench around Yuuta’s cock. You cry out deliriously, falling apart as Yuuta continues to pound into you. It’s too much, but you can’t pull away even if you tried. You’re stuck.

“I’m the only one that can make you feel this way, understand?” He grits his teeth, staving off his release just a little longer. He fucks you through your orgasm thoroughly as he chases his own. 

He presses all of his body weight on top of you, your legs on either side of his head as he folds you into a mating press. He groans at the change in position, allowing him to fuck into you even deeper. 

Realization cuts through your cloudy judgment like a sword. 

“Yuuta— Yuuta, please. Pull out–!” 

Your pleas fall on deaf ears. He’s rambling now, intoxicated by all you have to offer, yet you’re the one paying the price. The effects of overstimulation are taking over now, your body twitching involuntarily with each thrust. 

“I’m not leaving you, ever. It’s just you and me.” 

You shake your head in objection, mind too hazy to voice out any resistance. Tears well up, threatening to spill from your lash line. 

Yuuta nods with a grin, canines glinting, just like a predator that’s caught its prey. “It’s true, sweetheart. I’ll make sure of it. Say I’m it for you. That I’m the only one.” 

“Say it.” 

“You’re it for me, Yu. The only one.” You babble, tears streaming freely now. 

You feel the moment he reaches his plateau— the way his dick twitches inside of you right before your walls are being painted white with splashes of Yuuta’s hot cum. 

Your fate’s been sealed. 

He fucks into you a few more times, heavy balls slapping against your ass as he rides out his orgasm. A white ring wraps around the base of his cock, the copious amounts of seed he’s poured into you threatening to leak out. 

Yuuta doesn’t bother pulling out. In a quick show of dexterity and freak strength, he manages to flip the both of you so that your positions are switched, with you lying on top of Yuuta’s chest. The steady beat of his heart fills your mind. 

Your entire body is on fire. You feel numb. You let yourself be carried away by the prospect of sleep, hoping that you’ll wake up to find that this was all just some wild fragment of your imagination.  

He presses a hand against your head, like he was afraid you’d pull away and ruin whatever fantasy he’s deluded himself into believing. 

The simple truth is– Yuuta Okkotsu loves you. And he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that no one else gets in the way of that. 

He runs his hand up and down your bare back lovingly, admiring your spent form. You’ve always been so soft. So pliant, so willing to give in to his desires. 

It’s the thing that Yuuta loves most about you. 

a/n: i had to reupload bc this hellsite sucks. hopefully this shows up in the tags now

tagging @princess-okkotsu again hehe

[jurijyuu]

Breakfast (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

AlastorxReader Smut

Summary: When his patience finally reached his limit, he decided to finally have a taste of the little human he'd pulled into their little hotel.

Tags: Female Reader, Non-con/Dub-con, Bondage, Kidnapping, Cunnilingus, PIV sex

AO3 Link

MDNI

One morning in the Hazbin Hotel…

“What the fuck is going on with the fourth floor!?” Vaggie watched in awe and dread from outside the building. Everything seemed okay, no fallen debris and even the weather was a clear cloudless day, except for the fourth level of the hotel. It spun and glitched, warping this way and that. Its edges stretched and contracted as if it couldn’t decide which state of matter to be in any given second.

“I don’t know. We tried the stairs and the elevator but it just skips over that floor.” Charlie stared at the sight in bafflement. It wasn’t even that the bizarre phenomenon was hindering them, it just made that floor unavailable. It wouldn’t have been an emergency had they not had one guest staying on that floor in particular.

“And where’s Alastor? Isn’t this supposed to be his job?” Vaggie’s frown deepened as she looked around for any signs of the Radio Demon and found none. The hotel’s facility manager was nowhere to be seen that morning despite the big hubbub everyone was making. Instinctively, Charlie looked at her wristwatch. Ah. That would answer that question.

“It’s only 7:22. You know he doesn’t leave his room until 9.”

“Well, we have a situation and he needs to fix it.” Vaggie stormed up to Alastor’s suite, feeling for herself the weird but subtle distortion of space when the elevator passed the fourth floor. It was a ticklish sensation, like being thrown into a cold pool. Shocking but not harmful. Charlie elected to stay behind to organize and try to contact their guest’s phone to see if they were okay. From their previous attempts, it looked like the calls were going to voicemail after a few rings.

The elevator dinged onto the floor occupied by only the Radio Demon. It was eerily quiet, an attribute that she blamed on the creepy demon who had insisted that he own a whole fucking floor to himself when he’d moved in. It was probably how he’d managed to magick a swamp into his room, by sacrificing that other space with his weird spells.

Coming up to the lone door, she took a second to prepare herself for whatever she’d end up seeing in there this time. For all his gentlemanly facade, the Radio Demon enjoyed some grotesque things…like eating raw deer, straight from the carcass. She shook that mental image off and knocked. Within a few seconds, the door opened, the Radio Demon’s tall lanky frame taking up most of the opening.

“Vaggie. To what do I owe the displeasure of this early morning disturbance?” If not for the man’s word choice, she wouldn’t have known how annoyed the man was. He sounded jovial, almost welcoming. Prick.

“There’s some weird magical distortion thing happening on the fourth floor that’s not letting us access it.” Vaggie explained as best she could. It wasn’t like she was familiar with magick so she could only describe it as she saw it and hoped the man could fill in the rest.

“Oh that thing? I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Though it didn’t look like he’d need to look into it. The man absently waved it off, tone unworried and still light.

“Fine? Wait, you already know about it?”

“Of course. It’s nothing but a few mischievous strands of soul energy congregating in a specific area. Nothing to worry about.” He wiggled his fingers as he explained, as if the movement would help his audience understand the intricacies of soul magick and world energy. It really didn’t. He just looked condescending as he stood there, smiling.

“N-nothing to worry about? Did you forget who’s on that floor? What if they’re hurt or can’t get out?” To Vaggie’s surprise, the demon didn’t seem concerned at all about the only resident on the fourth floor, you. While she wouldn’t say the two of you were close, she did know that after Charlie, you were the next one he seemed the least annoyed with in the hotel. In Vaggie’s book, that had to count for something, even if it was only the man’s minute interest in keeping the hotel running and its guests happy.

“Did you not hear me, dear? I said it’s nothing to worry about. The distortion will fade away once the energies have flowed their way and since they aren’t malicious in nature, our dear guest should be just fine. It’s not like they’re an early bird anyway. I’m sure they’re still fast asleep while all of this is happening.” A clawed hand rolled at the wrist like he’d served her the most obvious answer on a silver platter. His eyes looked bored as he explained and she could feel the man’s patience waning even as his smile and tone remained the same, haughty and carefree.  

“How can you be so sure?” Still, she persisted. It was her job to make sure everything was okay.

“I’d already be working on fixing something this interesting if I didn’t already know its nature. Now, do you mind? I’m in the middle of breakfast.”

“Fine. But if it’s not done by business hours, you have to go fix it.”

“Of course.” The slam of the door in her face made Vaggie want to spear the man but Charlie wouldn’t want that. She had no choice but to walk away and wait.

“Sorry about that, darling. We were having such a lovely time before the meal was disturbed. Now, where was I?”

On the round metal garden table, his dear guest laid naked and bound. Your ankles were tied to your thighs, legs kept obscenely spread wide by tentacles. Any passerby would see your glistening apex, flushed and presented on his dining table. Your arms laid bound together behind the beautiful arch of your back. 

He took a moment to admire how lovely the red rope he’d selected looked as it dug into your skin. He released some of the tentacles he’d summoned to keep you still while he conversed with the intruder, except for the one around your mouth. The sound of your muffled squeaking was delightful.

You panted heavily from exhaustion, having been in this pose for over half an hour now. Little red dots traced a trail up from your navel to your sweat soaked chest, courtesy of him and his busy mouth. Sweat and tears glistened on your face, at least, on the half that wasn’t covered by one of his summoned tentacles. You looked ready to pass out and he hadn't even started on the main course.

Feebly, you tried to close your legs with a groan but the ropes kept you deliciously spread for his eyes to feast upon. It must’ve hurt to even move after being held in that position for a long time. He tutted as he approached. Poor darling. 

Your eyes followed his movement, noting the layer of amusement in his expression thinly veiled over a perverted look of adoration. Each clack of his red-tipped leather shoes sent dread through your system causing your muscles to tense. You renewed your struggle.

At some point in the early morning, something stirred you awake, an instinct that told you danger was close. When you’d opened your eyes, you found red ones cutting through the darkness, staring straight at you. It didn’t even give you time to scream before radio static filled your ears and ravenous darkness took hold of your limbs.

Strong eldritch arms had held you down, twisting your arms and legs into position while keeping you in the dark. The only sign that your captor was who you thought it was was the crackling of static and the chillingly familiar caress of leather gloves. 

You’d felt those gloves touching you too closely a few too many times from the tall facility manager of this hotel you’d landed in after a drunk college party turned a bogus demon summoning ritual into a real one. Except instead of summoning a demon, the demon pulled the closest one to the circle in. That had been you, a few weeks ago.

Alastor stopped his approach, slotting himself comfortably between your splayed thighs. His half lidded eyes watched you, the rapid rise and fall of your chest hypnotic in the hazy glow of the border between the hotel and his swamp. With perverted curiosity, he reached for your breast, the large expanse of his palm comfortably holding your flesh. He played with the lovely weight, watching how your skin cushioned his fingers with every light squeeze. With playful curiosity, his fingers tweaked your nipple and the cries you were suppressing spilled out, struggling to break through your gagged mouth.

It was lovely and he could feel his blood pump throughout his body, a rush that urged him to touch more now that he had you. You sweet stupid little thing. With no respect for supernatural rituals, your friends had tried to forcefully bring him to the human world. What better way to teach those brats a lesson than to bring one of them down here, he had thought. It was the best decision he had ever made.

Pinching the leather of his glove between his teeth, he freed his hand. The glove dropped to the floor as he now touched you with his bare palm. Rough calluses smoothed over the skin of your thighs reverently. You tried to shake them off, bucking your hips and arching your back as best you could. It was a waste of energy. The ropes biting into your skin held fast under your struggle and only served to further entice the demon holding you captive. Still, you refused to just lay there as your assailant had his way with your body.

Alastor’s smile widened at your endeavor. Oh, how he loved to see it. Your gaze blazed with hate as you thrashed on his table, the fight in you so alive yet so very futile. He found it so alluring. So incredibly despicable. How dare a weak little human look at him with such open contempt? How dare you make him throb with your seering show of anger?

Taking his other glove off, he whipped the leather onto the delicate skin of your inner thigh. A light punishment. You yelped and his ears tingled at the sound. So he did it again, the sharp slap of leather against skin against your squeals and squeaks fueling the fire burning in his chest. Each strike flushed the attacked skin and your face grew ever more teary under the assault. 

“Does that hurt, my darling?” He struck a stinging whip onto your breast, the impact causing your back to arch as you struggled to take in air. Still, your eyes darted to meet his own dominating gaze defiantly. “I guess not enough.” 

He continued, striking the flesh of your breast, each hardened nipple, making target of the red love bites he’d trailed on your body. With each contact, you twisted, stuck somewhere between hurt and unwanted pleasure. He brought himself closer to your core until your bare cunt wet the tight front of his trousers. A whispered growl left his throat, covered by another whip.

He was devious, never hitting the same place twice in a row and letting each patch of skin recover before he struck them again. It stung and your body contorted around each strike, your pelvis inevitably rubbing against the obvious tent he pressed against you. It rubbed against your nether lips, sometimes in just the right angle that brushed against your clit. That was the worst as those strikes came with a shot of pleasure that you really didn’t want to associate with the man and what he was doing to you. And it didn’t escape his watchful eyes as he angled himself to drive you to madness.

He struck your breast again, digging his hard on into you as he did and sending the biggest bolt of pleasure into you thus far. A cocky grin stretched his face as you moaned loudly, frustrated tears leaking from your eyes as your insides clenched in want.

“Now, let me ask again, my darling. Does that hurt?” He leaned forward until his long body hovered closely over your own. The heat of his massive body radiated both intimidation and invitation just short of blanketing you completely. The teasing lilt in his tone touched a nerve in you but unlike earlier, you had enough. Anymore and you weren’t sure what your body would do to you. It was too hot. It hurt. It ached. You ached, for all that you were against all of this. The glare you sent him was the weakest yet, more begging for mercy than spewing hatred that you couldn’t utter with your mouth forced shut.

He waited patiently, watching each slight chip and crack on your resolve. You knew he would drag this on as long as possible. With the magick he wielded, and loved to show off, it would be a simple party trick to hide you away for hours, for days…maybe even forever. Your heart shook. He could endure far more than your human body could, keep himself on edge until he got what he wanted or got bored. The manic gleam in his eyes screamed obsession, one that wouldn’t go away for a long time, and it outshone your resolve. So you nodded, playing along with him. Static crackled in the air, nipping at the tips of your hair. You shivered involuntarily against it. He reveled in it. 

“Oh my poor darling. Do you want me to make it feel better?” At the end of his question, he snaked his long tongue over your breast, lathing the area he last struck with attention. You sucked in a breath, this contact feeling incredibly gentle as the hot flesh soothed the sensitive skin. 

“So responsive.” He liked your reaction, licking that area again until he had you mewling and rubbing against him as you chased your body’s pain away with the pleasure he provided. 

Your head felt fuzzy as it processed the tingling sensations coming from your body. The ropes bit into your limbs, each whipped patch of skin throbbed in the cool air, a girthy length nestled itself in the bed of your labia, his hands left feather-light touches on your hips and waist and his tongue soothed and teased your breast with ridiculous skill. It was all too much to process and you walked closer to the edge of orgasm with each ghost of his breath on your skin. 

Until he stopped. 

An almost feral sound escaped your throat as all contact ceased. Even his hands that wouldn’t stop caressing you instead positioned themselves on either side of your head, caging you and keeping that fantastically cursed contact just an inch from your body. The tentacle keeping your mouth shut retracted and you were able to breath full gulps of air. He watched as you floundered, recovering from his delectable assault. His heart thudded with each desperate gasp for air and he ground himself against your core for a bit of relief.

“Let’s try that again, my darling. Do you want me to make you feel so much better? To take all your little aches and turn them into pleasure?” He looked down at you, his delicious prey, and you looked up at him, tugging between wanting that pleasure and reminding yourself that he’d abducted you. He’d taken you before dawn could light your windows just so he could play with your body. He’d taken you from your world when it wasn’t even you that tried to summon him. He still wanted to take more from you.

All of this was his fault. His fault. You shouldn’t enjoy this one bit.

Something in the way you looked at him must’ve let him know of your train of thought and he leaned in, hovering closer but never touching. “If you don’t want me to, I’ll be happy to leave you here until you change your mind.” Thin lips placed a slow light kiss on your lips as he whispered. “Just don’t have any silly little ideas about escape. You won’t be leaving here until I’m done with you.”

The room darkened around you until all you could see was him and the power he wielded to keep you here. The others in the hotel wouldn’t find you. They thought you were trapped in whatever distraction Alastor conjured up. They wouldn’t think to look for you in his room. You would be stuck here, going through pain and pleasure until he got bored of you or you gave in to him. The choice was made. You couldn’t hope to outlast a man who had eternity to wait.

Your head bobbed a nod that his piercing eyes hungrily followed but his insufferable mouth only grinned wider. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch that. Would you mind saying it out loud for me, my darling.”

Your lips trembled as you caught the ravenous hitch as he proclaimed possession of you. Asshole. Git. Son of a bitch. He would look so pretty with a bullet through his goddamned head. Still, you swallowed your hate and made yourself the calmest you’d been since finding yourself in this situation. No trembling in your voice. Only cool hatred as you did as asked.

“Alastor, make me feel good.” In a deadpan tone, you commanded him. If he pressed you more, you might end up begging him but until then, you kept as much dignity as you could against his assault.

You stared coolly at him, traces of delirium vanishing from your face as you told him to pleasure you in the most uninterested tone you could muster. Hah! Defiant little thing. But he so loved that about you. All those days wandering around each other, your resentment at him pulling your down to Hell hidden behind courtesy. No display of raw power or tales of his sadism put fear back into those eyes. Just hate. Because the princess of Hell couldn’t figure out a way to send you back. Because your silly friends used a ritual that traps the crossing entity in the summoned world until the summoner’s wish was granted. And who knows who’s wish you had to fulfill when you ended up passing through?

“I’m so glad you asked, my darling.” Pointed sarcasm and mocking painted his tone as he moved away from you. Your eyes followed him, a curious furrow in your brows. He would have taken the time to admire the work he’d drawn on your body but he was impatient, finally getting as close to an approval as he was going to receive from you.

Kneeling on the floor, he pulled your body until your hips almost dangled off the table. Finally, he could feast on you as he’d been craving all this time. He licked his teeth as he stared at your soaked opening. Your slick glistened, reflecting the red that glowed from his eyes. It was almost too much to bear. Like a man starved, he covered your sensitive genitalia with his mouth, eyes rolling back at the first taste of you. You were better than he could have dreamed. A delicacy laid out on his table so that he could quench the thirst he’d developed since he’d first laid eyes on you.

His hot mouth wasted no time, sucking on your clit, the delicate bud screaming bolts into your body at the attention. It felt like you’d been punched in the gut with how quickly your breath left your body. And he didn’t stop even when you flinched away.

“Ah—Wait! Too much! It’s too—!” Your pleading only encouraged him more. Giving one more vigorous suck before moving away so he could speak.

“Little liar. You’re enjoying this too much. Why can’t you be more honest with me? Come on. Tell me how much you’re enjoying this.” The lower half of his face shined with your juices as he watched your flushed expressions with glee. All you wanted to do was smack his smug mug on the metal table. Crush his stupid head between your thighs. He could drown in your pussy if that’s what he really wanted just as long as this sadistic fucker died.

“Fuck you!”

“Oh, you will but let me have my appetizer first.” He slid his long tongue into the fluttering opening before him without having to move his head one inch. He got to watch you convulse at the intrusion, that venomous glare you threw him smoothing out into one of forcefully taken bliss. He summoned a few of the radios in his room and let his voice be heard while his mouth was preoccupied. “Come on, my darling. Tell me.”

“No—! Ah!” He descended back onto your clit, his pointy nose teasing at it as the full length of his tongue drove into you. It slipped right in, teasing the deepest part of you in strokes you’d never reached with your own fingers and toys. Tears brimmed anew from your eyes, this time in frustrated pleasure.

His breath fanned against you and you clenched around his tongue so tightly. He shuddered. Absolutely divine. Your pleasure was blatant as the scowl on your face melted away into mewing gasps. A tight ring of muscles halted the end of his tongue and you jolted violently off the table as he teased at it. He had to hold you back down so he could abuse that little spot at the tip of his tongue.

“That’s it, darling. Did I find the right spot?” You tightened around him harder, pulling at him as the sensations started to mount as you squealed the highest pitch he’d ever heard from you. He groaned at the sight of your arched back, arms bound and helpless against the pleasure he delivered, giving up your fight to chase the highs he was providing. The desperation in each unconscious buck of your hips, the wetness that dribbled down his neck, the way your toes curled in the corners of his vision. 

“Am I not doing a good job, sweetness? Do you want me to stop?” He wanted to hear you want him.

“NoooOooo.” He curled his tongue in just the right way that had you seeing stars. Did he say stop? No! Not when you were so close. The coil in your belly burned so tight as he kept teasing your cervix. It was regretfully sinful how good he was at fucking you with his demonic tongue. Asshole! You still wanted to smash his face in but if you couldn’t get away from him anyway, you would at least get off.

“No! Please! Alastor! I’m so close. Make me cum.” You stared into the ceiling, the tree canopy crossing into the more familiar hotel structures were dotted with stars as he kept going. A scratch of static crackled through the air and you heard a throat chuckle come from your assailant. 

“Good girl.” His hands pulled your cunt closer to his face as he ate you out with more gusto. His finger joined in on the fray, teasing your clit.

“Yes! It feels good! Feels so fucking good-ahhh!” Your heat was all he could feel, the taste of your cunt all he could swallow as your scent surrounded him and now you pretty little pleas were all he could hear above the salacious sounds of his slurping. Something primal in him groaned in appreciation knowing that you writhed and begged for each stroke of his tongue, each brush on his fingers.

And to think you were ready to spit on his face earlier. He took his tongue out and immediately replaced it with his fingers as he put his attention back onto your wanting clit. The reaction was immediate. You seized and came with a cry, clenching so tightly onto his fingers as your slick gushed around them. He pumped his fingers in and out of your lovely cunt through your orgasm, lapping up what he could of your spend with relish.

“You taste divine, darling. I’ll have to compliment your mama for cooking something so good.” With a dramatic slurp, he licked you one final time, letting you catch your breath as you came down from the high. Every inch of your body tingled, your insides still singing from the rush of orgasm. 

The sight of you so bare, your scent mixing in the cool mist, your bliss coating his tongue. It filled him with a hunger he’d never had until he’d plucked you from your mortal realm. Trembling in the grasp of his tentacle, lightly drunk off of cheap booze. A messy young woman with her hair frazzled and mascara running. Cupid’s arrow finally struck him after a century of misses. Seeing you walk around the hotel so wary of him despite his efforts to treat you with congeniality, the cold shoulder you presented him when even that grump Husker could get you to smile. You’d driven him insane. So very insane.

To have you in his bed. To hear your voice calling his name sweetly. To hear your passion. To taste just a fraction of the attention you easily gave the other demons. 

The ropes keeping you spread open for him were cut, your limbs too exhausted to do more than flop down in their freedom. The high left you paralyzed in dull exhaustion. That was admittedly the best orgasm you’d ever had in your life. You just wished it could have been with anyone else but him.

The sound of a zipper stirred you back into focus, seizing your attention as it dawned on you what it meant. A panicked exhale left your lungs as you turned to find Alastor with his cock out. It stood tall, red as the rest of him and weeping pre-cum over black and beige fur. As if the sight wasn’t enough to spear dread back into your veins, he eyed you with a half lidded gaze, his red scleras black as pitch leaving only the blaring reds of his dial pupils.

“N-n-no. Please. Alastor. Don’t.”

“Hushhhhhh. There there. Don’t cry my little doe.” He loomed down to cover your body with his again. The oppressive size of him meant to intimidate you back into submission. While your tears were beautiful, he didn’t like seeing them as he prepared for the main course. His tongue went to lick a salty rivulet, savoring the taste as he cooed. “You enjoyed my tongue didn’t you? I promise you, my cock is even better.”

The fat tip of him brushed against your tingling labia, his boney hips twisting until it caught onto you opening. Both of you hissed at the feeling, you in fear and him in awe.

“No. Please don’t.” 

“But I don’t want to stop, my darling.” He moved his hips, the tips of his engorged cock kissing your entrance but not penetrating. It glided and teased, poking at you and brushing against your clit. Each touch had him groaning silently above you, his pleasured voice right in your ear.

Unwilling sparks traveled up your legs. Gods. You were still so wet from his mouth and you could feel your body get wetter at the sounds he was making. Fuck. Now was not the time to find out you had a voice kink. You had to stop him. Beg him to stop.

But what would be the use? He outclassed you in size, strength and power. He would just keep you here until he got what he wanted, which you were starting to understand as he kept on with his teasing, promising to make you feel good the whole while with that sultry voice of his. Why wasn’t he just going for it? He’d forced you to go through everything this morning so why not go ahead?

He wanted to hear you give in to him, not just to let him have his way. He would keep torturing you like this until you told him to put it in, gave him permission no matter how forcefully he acquired it. Sicko. Bastard. Why did he need to humiliate you further by having you beg? It wasn’t even that he wanted you to beg, he just wanted your consent. Hypocrite!

Your tears didn’t cease and so did his ministrations. He lovingly drank your tears and whispered promises in your ear. You were a smart girl. You knew you wouldn’t be able to get out of this. But maybe you needed a bit more convincing. His hand moved down, trailing caresses down your body until it reached your mound. At the lightest brush of his fingers against your clit, you seized.

He bit his lip as your legs unconsciously latched onto his hips, drawing him in until your opening left fluttering kisses on his tip. Ahh. He groaned. You little minx. Any more of your temptation and he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back any longer. He did it again.

“Come on, darling. Are you still sure you don’t want me to put it in? Say the word and ahhh I can feed that hungry mouth of yours.” You squirmed and tried to get away but he kept you in place as another rush of liquid started to coat his member. “Look. You’re starting to drool down there. So just say it. Say that you want this. Say that you want me.”

A pressure was building in your gut as he rubbed your sexes together in delicious slick friction. Fuck. Why did it have to feel so good? From the kisses to your cheeks to the hand religiously working your button, this monster knew how to play your body so well. Seeing no other end to this than when he was finally satisfied, you nodded, watery eyes meeting his manic ones.

“Fine! Go ahead. Put it in and fuck me already you asshole!”

Electricity shot between you both as his grin widened. With one last brush against your entrance, his cock inched in. Both of you gasped. Even after you came on his tongue, you were still so tight. Though he didn’t have that much girth, his cock still stretched you out. 

Both of his hands caught him as he leant on them for support. So good. The pressure around his cock head felt enthrallin. It was all he could do to ease into you slowly. Sweat dripped down his face onto yours as he concentrated. “Fuck.”

You don’t think you’d ever heard him curse before. The foreign sound of it blindsided you enough to distract from the almost uncomfortable intrusion. He stared at your face, bottom lip caught in his teeth, eyes wide. You almost hated the slight whisper of smugness in your brain as it registered the pleasure so apparent on his face. It gave you something to feel good about given how powerless you felt.

With a burst of spite-inspired smugness, you rolled your hips, taking him all in until your pelvises met. One of his hands buckled as he fell into his elbow. You could have laughed if his cock didn’t stuff you so full it was almost painful. “What’s the matter Alastor? I thought you were going to make me feel good?”

After a moment or two, he seemed to gain control, rising back up so he could look at you, his face bright with predatory victory. “Just…making sure you can take me, my darling.”

He thrust his hips forward a few times, softening you up against his cock before leaning down so his lips brushed your ear. “And you do, my darling. You take me..so..well.”

With that, he started thrusting in earnest, one hand on your hip as the other guided you into a demanding kiss. Your angry tears were forgotten in place of painful pleasure as each time he entered you, he rammed against your cervix only easing the pain when the curve of his cock stroked your inner walls as he pulled out.

Again and again. In and out and his teeth nibbled on your lips, inhuman tongue mapping every corner of your mouth. It hurt! It felt great! Static nicked at your skin, moving from him to you and back. Each kiss and thrust with his energy that was starting to fry your mind into an object of only pleasure.

Your discomfort turned into putty moans that he devoured, laying toothy kisses on your mouth, your neck, your collarbone. Your breathless wanton cries filled his ears as your warm heat squeezed his cock for all he was worth. This was better than he’d imagined, hotter, sweatier, messier. Absolutely filthy as his claws dragged down your arms, leaving bleeding marks in their wake. He licked those ruby lines even as you cried in pain.

In retaliation, your hands wove into his hair, pulling with the intention to cause only pain. It was like lightning hit his spine, causing his hips to jerk and find home in your cunt. 

“Keep doing that.” He groaned into your breast before sinking his teeth into the tender flesh. You yelled as he broke skin, not thinking twice about pulling even harder and clawing your blunt nails against his scalp and neck. 

“Ah! Alastor! Fuck! That hurts!”

Yet your complaint didn’t come without a whorish moan as he ground his hips into your more and his hand found bud to play with. “Yet look how you’re about to come for me. Why don’t you do that, my darling? Come undone on my cock.”

“Say how much you love this.” He could feel the signs of your oncoming orgasm, your cunt sucking on him, daring him to go deeper. Your nails raked coals along his back, popping buttons from his shirt and coat as you tried to inflict as much pleasured pain upon him as you could. He could barely keep himself together, wanting to push you over the edge before he found his release.

“No. No! Alastor! Alas—“ you seized and spasmed, feet digging into his back you clung to him in abandon.

“Do it, darling. Let yourself go.” With little space to move, he could only grind against you, stirring your insides as he groaned at your fluttering warmth. He whispered in your ear and that was all it took to get you off. With a squeal, your body tightened, limbs pulling him into you, grabbing at him with greedy hand fulls.

He groaned, losing track of himself as he thrust one last time and poured his seed into your milking channel.

Both of you collapsed onto the metal table as you came down from your peak. You vaguely observed how sticky and suffocating his sweaty hair was as it rested on your neck and collar. His uneven breath fanned hot air onto your shoulder as the rest of him weighed down on you. He was heavy for someone so thin.

Eventually, the demon recovered, a winning smile on his face as he peered down at you, completely marked in his kisses and scratches. Eyes still defiant but too tired to do anything but look at him.

You expected him to pull away and leave you there in your post-coital misery. Instead, hands went around your waist and back, lifting you up without taking himself out of you. 

“What are you doing?” Your legs immediately wrapped around his waist in fear of falling as he stood to his full height with you still wrapped around his dick. 

“Taking you to bed, darling. We still have a few hours before you’re expected to show up. Why don’t we take a break, hm?” Each step towards his bed made it clear to you that he was slowly hardening again. No way. That was too quick. Before you could protest, he already sat down on the velvety mattress. 

Maneuvering until you both lay beneath the covers, he somehow managed to keep you connected the whole time. You lay on his chest, painfully aware of each little adjustment he made as he tried to get comfortable.

“Alastor, I don’t think I can do another round.”

“Of course not. You’re only human, my darling. Go sleep. I’ll wake you when it’s time to get up and start the day.” His hand threaded through your hair, watching the perplexed and mildly uncomfortable expression on your face as he moved his hips again. He’d waited so long for this. Of course he would enjoy every second of being inside you that he could. With time, he hoped you would enjoy it as well.

Slowly, you forced yourself to relax, taking the reprieve he offered before he took it away. As your breathing evened and your weight pressed heavier into him, he wondered if it was possible for you to get pregnant since you were still alive.

He’ll just have to find out, now, won’t he?

[teeskzagain]

Anonymous asked:

so i’ve been thinking about how people think san’s a bit scary and intimidating while he’s an absolute sweetheart on the inside. imagine dating him and everyone around you being a bit intimidated by him, thinking he’s a rough guy and even being slightly worried…

what they don’t know is that you have him wrapped around your finger, that he’d worship the floor you walk on and that he’d simply do everything just to see you smile.

i wonder how this would translate into situations in the bedroom 🙂‍↔️

also!! i hope you get account back soon 💗

no because let’s talk about it!! the duality of choi san is actually INSANE (like his twink era??) mans could go from radiating dom energy out in public but once those doors close??? oh he would be ON HIS KNEES FOR YOU 🙌 whew, i’m in lofe with this scenario

and thank you for that, you’re too sweet🤍

wc: 3k

warnings: face riding, neck kissing, praises, dry humping (san cumming in his underwear) a shit ton of dirty talk, use of nicknames: baby, sweetie, sannie, 18+ MDNI

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starting now, you make the executive decision that absolutely no one is meant to truly understand the relationship between you and your boyfriend, choi san. this is proven true at the formal get together you and him were currently attending, with your two friends making him a topic of conversation on numerous occasions.

like, at this moment.

“just look at him,” yena gawks from across the room, cup swirling in her hand, “i don’t know how you even had the balls to go up to him…”

“let alone date him.” suiji finishes as she eyes your boyfriend up and down. he’s currently standing stoically in the corner, chatting up the birthday boy, kang yeosang. your lips curl fondly at the interaction, knowing well just how excited san was about seeing yeosang this evening.

you allow their little comments to resonate in the air before giving your two friends a look and then a soft laugh, “how come you guys say this every time we go out?”

“because it’s still insane!” yena throws an arm out as if to prove her disbelief, “how can you not just shrink under his gaze?”

suiji does a dramatic shudder at the remnants of his presence, “i’m serious y/n, he’s so scary looking.”

“there’s no problems with the relationship, right? anything i need to know? are you feeling safe?” yena’s rapid fire of questions and sudden concern makes you want to roll your eyes straight out of their sockets.

it’s been four months of dating san at this point, and one would have thought that the acceptance stage surely should’ve passed by now. however, for some reason, these two just can’t fathom the idea that choi san is ‘datable’. actually. it’s not just them, but the general public appears to fear san like some sort of bad omen. from the barista at your local coffee shop, to your favorite cashier at the grocery store; somehow, this negative stigma seemed to have developed around your poor, clueless boyfriend.

they should all be ashamed of themselves, you think with a frown, almost about ready to scold the girls when the tall, broad man himself waltzes straight into your circle. the way yena and suiji immediately clasps their lips shut at his entrance, you want to laugh, but quickly are captivated by your boyfriend who’s stopping right in front of you.

“baby…” his voice starts off somber and low, and he regards you with an expression that’s seemingly all too familiar, “it’s time to go.”

hmm? instinctively, your head tilts slightly as you sport confusion, “already? but, weren’t you just talking with-”

“y/n. let’s go.” he’s firmer in his tone, a hard face planted on. you blink before giving him an understanding head nod. you understood quite well what his authoritative stature indicated, essentially making it pointless to argue back with him.

when san whips around towards the girls, ready to begin your goodbyes, they seemed to have crowded together out of fright. the slender, narrow eyes that have proven to instill fear glower onto yena and suiji and you’re almost positive you see one of them trembling. oh, please.

“i’m sorry to cut the pleasantries so short, but it’s getting late for us. we’ll see you around though?” he quips off the question with an eyebrow raise, and by now you’ve huddled closer to him.

yena could only stumble out, “y-yeah, see ya later.” while suiji waved him away frantically, both trying their damndest to avoid eye contact with him.

he takes off while you offer your own smile and a curt wave. and even as you happily catch up behind the brooding man, your two friends are still left puzzled as to what exactly it is you see in him. both you and san make a few more rounds of goodbyes, some of the guests sharing their own inquisitive gaze at the impassive male in comparison to your gleeful smile. but neither of you paid attention to that.

no, the only thing present in the two of you’s minds was the anticipation of what was going to happen later tonight. like for when you step foot into your apartment approximately 10 minutes later, his eyes glossy as they tediously watch you, with yours trailing the outline of his delicious outfit.

the car ride over had been filled to the brim with unspoken thoughts, asses shifting and squirming in their seats, and a swirl of low breaths emitted by you two. san’s never been one to demand control over the relationship, him hardly every seeing the need to command anything out of you. he’s always been perfectly contempt with you taking the reigns while he sits back and enjoys.

and you were well aware of that.

but in a moment like that, a circumstance where his head became heavily engrossed with conceptions of you, well, he couldn’t help if a more stern tone slipped out of him. he just had to get you to recognize what it was he was yearning for. what it is he needs from you.

“sannie..” your head’s tilted down so you can peer up at him through your eyelashes, making a slow trek towards him as he stood idly in the living room, “are you in a mood?”

in a matter of seconds, you can physically see the changes your boyfriend has. his usual, cold face soon melting into an intense cry of plea. of course you knew the answer. you can read him like book by now.

you stop in front of his body, a hand pressing into his chest while the other raises to graze the side of his face, “oh, you poor thing. i know it must’ve been difficult at the party for you.”

as if you’re a magnet, once you let up on san, your hand dropping to his arm, his head shoots down into the exposed part of your neck. he’s feverish in the way he immediately starts to kiss on your skin, with in between pecks he starts to speak.

“fu-uck…,” he lands a rather large kiss smack dab in the middle of your throat which leads you to buzz out a soft whimper, “i couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

he travels around your sternum, making sure to mark up any unclaimed spots, “couldn’t stop picturing you…” he nips at your skin this time, “us getting home tonight and me making you cum so fucking hard.”

your eyes are fluttering from a combo of both his words and his lips, your hands moving on their own to explore the brawniness that is choi san, “yeah…is that right?”

he lets out a strained groan as he begins to work his way down to your cleavage, “ah- my cock’s throbbing so bad right now.” the words topple from his lips an octave higher than you’re used to, and it’s clear just how turned on he is. which in turn makes your own panties dampen at the realization.

“sannie…” you gasp, feeling his mouth trailing down the fabric of your dress with some of his spit sopping through, “you know- you have to please me first. me first, then i’ll take of you, sweetie.”

he’s on his knees for you by now, staring up at you with the biggest doe eyes you’ve ever seen on a man. your head droops to meet his gaze right as his hands grip the hem of your dress. he lifts it up past your hips, revealing your cotton underwear which sports a wet spot clear as day.

“i know. i know, baby. i’m gonna make you feel so good. don’t you worry.” he ducks his head in between your thighs in preparation for licking your pussy through the soft material, a motion he does in a clean swoop. it only amplifies the extreme sensation you’re experiencing, “you won’t have a single thought in your head when i’m done.”

your body stirrers at the contact, “oh! oh my god.”

san is absolutely in love with your reactions, watching and hearing how horny you are because of him. it fuels him. he repeats his licking action, this time stopping at the top of your cunt to suck on your sensitive bud. you register his saliva permeating through your underwear, a squelching sound now filling the air, and your face contorts.

“mmm, sannie i’m gonna ride your face,” your eyes are crinkled, no longer able to hold his eye contact, as involuntarily your hips buck against his head, “fuck. just wanna grind my pussy deep into your perfect face.”

he squeezes his lips around your skin. it doesn’t even matter to him how your harsh rocks causes his face to rock along side with you. he’s ravenous. hungry for you. eating you out like he’s been deprived of your sweet cunt for days.

after a low rumble, san guides a hand to your clothed sex and pushes away the fabric. swirling, lapping, fiending into your naked core, you’re hit with double the intensity than you had previously, and you nearly squeal. he circles his head all around your thick pussy, wanting to bury his face deeper into your skin, which makes your eyes roll back.

the direct stimulant makes you see stars, him taking in pieces of you within his mouth and supplying a great deal of pleasure to those areas. your own moans fight for dominance while san’s squishy munching competes for which noise is the loudest, yours gradually getting louder and higher the more he devours you.

“i feel close,” it comes out more breathlike as you interlock your fingers into his hair for balance, “fuck- fuck- i think i’m gonna cum soon.”

with that, san offers no mercy. he wants to see you cum, needs to feel your orgasm hit his face. he quickens his pace with his wet tongue, before moving into more swift and timely sucks. the mixture of stimulants has your eyelids glazing, and it doesn’t help how occasionally san would mewl straight into you. he finds this so incredibly arousing.

you dig your hips further into his nose, you full on grinding against him by now, and you can’t even think straight. everything is pushing you closer and closer and closer-

“shit! i’m cumming! i’m cumming!” when your boyfriend nicks that spot, that spot with his driven hunger solely focused on it, your orgasm rushes through your body and out of your cunt, you yelping aloud in the process. it spritzes and coats san in a spit/cum mix, his face becoming sickly wet as you draw out your blissful high.

not once does he move to detach himself. he eats you out all during the duration of your orgasm, and when you finally have the strength to look at san again, you see his large, puppy-esque eyes just entranced with you. he watched you cum all over his face, just like he wished to before.

at the end of it, your chest heaves up and down as you attempt a small smile for him. aside from the minor spasms, you had gained some sense of awareness again.

“i’m so proud of you. you made me feel good, just like you promised.” you speak with nothing but gratitude, your hand easing up the grip in san’s hair as you transfer it into a light stroke, “you ready to be taken care of now?”

he parts your cunt with spit strings attached, his lips and face utterly covered in your moisture. he looks about ready to combust on himself, the way his eyes are hazy and low, his breathing irregular, “i’m ready. need a release so bad, i can’t take it anymore.”

sweetly, you reach down to help him up, “i hear you. come on, let’s go to the room.”

you lead the way as he follows you back into the bedroom, you instantly ordering him to strip from his pants once inside, “since you did a such a great job, i wanna treat you to something.”

a look of relief washes over san’s face. while still in his underwear, you direct him towards the head of the bed frame as you hook your fingers on the band of your panties to slide them down and off your legs. you meet him on to the bed, and right off of the bat, you can see a noticeably large bulge, poking out the material of his dark blue briefs.

if someone were to mistaken the expanding wet spot as san just having came on himself, you wouldn’t be surprised. but your boyfriend produces large amounts of arousal on the regular, so this is nothing new for you. if anything, you can start to feel yourself get horny all over again.

when directly in front of him, you bring one knee over so you’re straddling him, your pelvis just barely hovering over his lap, “just sit back for me, okay?” you eye him sincerely, “im gonna take care of you.”

right as you start to lower yourself on to his covered length, a sharp inhale from san has you pausing briefly, “baby, i don’t know how long i’ll be able to last. feel like i’m gonna explode any second.”

with a tiny laugh, you continue downwards till you make contact with your core and his cock, “it’s okay. don’t want you holding back either, i want you to enjoy this.”

and just like that, you allow your cunt to spread flatly against his erection, then ever-so leisurely, you start to roll your hips. you purposely begin with a slow pace, wanting to build up the intensity as time progressed, and judging by the facial expressions he wears, this seems to do the trick for him as well. even through the sensitivity, you push through.

“i knew you’d like me rubbing myself against you,” your hand clashes with the headboard as you steady yourself, digging your core deeper into the hard surface, “you liked it when i grinded on your face, i just had to give your poor cock the same treatment.”

inaudible moans fall from san’s throat, him now throwing his head back on the board, “sh-shit. it feels so nice, too nice.”

“i can feel you twitching below me,” you hip, your eyes becoming more hooded by the second, “are you really that close to finishing?”

“nrgh- yes.” he groans and you can see his stomach begin to convulse, his panting growing more prominent within your ear.

at this prospect, you dish out a hushed mew yourself, fastening the thrusts into his own clothed sex. your pussy acts as a stimulant for san, sending blips of pleasure through his aching dick the more you continue your rubbing.

you make sure to work every section of his length, running and dragging your glistening pussy lips against his wet fabric. you’ve suctioned yourself so far into him, that right now, you can distinguish which is his base and which is the head of cock. your cunt does a slightly bump whenever you find yourself running against the tip.

it’s euphoric the pleasure he’s having right now. never having been this turned on before, he basks in the feeling brought upon by you. how you know just when to squeeze the right amount of pressure onto him, or when to simply grind faster and harder on to the cock that won’t make it for much longer.

leading you to a point of where you’re full blown humping san into oblivion. the creaky noises of the bed acts as evidence of your hard work, along with the not-so-subtle whimpers that he buzzes out every chance he gets. he’s lost in heaven.

“you’re gonna make me cum on myself,” he follows that up with a louder groan, “fucking- i’m so close to cumming, ’m so close.” he even tries to match your rhythm but even that prove to be difficult with just how mindless you’re about to leave him.

“let it all out, sannie. come on, i know you’re almost there.” you reply back with an equal amount of desperation in your voice.

a string of ‘please’ leaves his mouth, his eyebrows scrunched inward with his troubled face. he’s so far gone, he isn’t sure that he’ll even survive the orgasm he’s about to have. when you buck particularly hard into his sensitive head, a wave of pleasure hits him and his cock relinquishes his stored up cum.

“hmm, y/n- i’m cumming!” a guttural moan overtakes the room as san releases all over himself, and you, his underwear now soiled to a point of no return. his cum leaks through and even form to mix with your previous liquids. it awakens something within you and soon the feeling of his orgasm is causing a surprise one for yourself, your eyes vibrating and a whiny shriek spilling out.

you quiver harshly on top of your boyfriend as his body twitches sporadically, the two of you somewhat finishing in sync. a few spurts of your juices seep down into his briefs, vice versa for you, and then next thing you know you’re both catching your breaths after the intense session.

“you’re so fucking hot.” he murmurs, eyes dazed and throat bobbing, “left me soaking in my underwear.”

“i love you,” you whisper back as your bring your forehead to his, still relishing from your second orgasm tonight, “you’re so good for me.”

“i love you too, baby.”

see, many question what it is about your boyfriend that you love so much. in their eyes, he’s nothing more than a fearsome man, threatening the innocence of a poor, girl like you.

but if there’s one thing you could never deny, was that your (in reality) sweet, puppy of a boyfriend knows just how to give you the actual best orgasms of your life. and luckily for him, you know how to give it right back to him.

your guys’ relationship is perfect as is. regardless if others can fully comprehend it or not.

[shiggyscumrag]

To fuck or not to fuck?

Synopsis- After joining the x men you train with them one on one till you are inevitably forced to train with Logan. During a rough training session a heated argument arises and there’s only one way to break the tension.

Warnings- open wound mentioned, blood mentioned, cussing, penetrative sex (pnv), cum play if you squint, light slapping, oral (male and female receiving), choking, gagging, a bit of crying, over stimulation, nicknames babe and princess used frequently, no pronouns are used for (y/n), I’m sorry if I missed any!

AN- look I’ll be honest I just wanted to write a situation where you hate fuck Logan 🙌🏻 also this is probably not gonna be lore accurate but does it really matter when it’s smut with no plot? NO!! so enjoy fuckers ;) I did channel Deadpool energy for this character bc why not? Also the characters power involves using their voice to manipulate the people around them into doing what they want. ily pookies 💋

Look you didn’t want to be a stupid X Men. You made it very clear since day one you just wanted to continue living your “civilian” life and to keep blending in. Of course it didn’t work out that way. Professor X was the one who pulled you out of this almost normal day to day life and threw you into his rich ass mansion full of freaks. Ok you’re a freak too but you’re not trained like them. You should be out working your five to nine barely making ends meet in your shitty one bedroom apartment, but no. Now, you’re tasked to help “save the world” from worse mutants than you.

Reluctantly, you decide since you have no choice being here, why not make something interesting out of this new arrangement? After the tour of your fancy new “home” (really a school/headquarters), it’s time to meet your new coworkers. Friends? Eh too soon.

It was a little intimidating with them all lined up staring you down when you walked into the final room of Xavier’s tour. Storm standing to your far left, Cyclops beside her, Rogue, Beast and finally the Wolverine. One by one they gave a greeting, some more friendly than others. Until Logan (you later learned) just muttered a “whatever” and left. Pushing past you while staring you down. Jesus, what’s up with that guy?

You decided it wasn’t worth it to fight on your first day so you let it go. Then weeks passed, with week after week going slowly from one mutant to another teaching you new techniques. When eventually the mutant you dreaded training with the most was up. The one and only Wolverine, Mister Logan Howlett. Bit of an ironic name you couldn’t help but chuckle at when Xavier introduced him officially. Since Logan was avoiding you at all cost the whole time you’ve been here you weren’t exactly familiar with his anger issues.

“What’s so funny bub?” You could see his claws starting to peak from his knuckles and didn’t stop another chuckle.

“Knives for hands here doesn’t even know me and he wants to shred me already. You sure I’m safe here?” You say as sarcastically as you can, really emphasizing the safe part. Xavier gave a curt nod and turned to Logan.

“Don’t embarrass me.” Leaving the room right after, you and Logan were dumbfounded. You finally let out the cackle you were holding back hunching over when the door finally closed.

“Ha!! You got in trouble!!” You stood up straight clapping your hands together “You should really start playing nice.”

“You’re real fucking immature, you know that?” He said his claws slowly peaking out more after each comment you make. You start to smirk.

“Yeah? Well I am 100 years younger than you sweet heart, so who’s really the immature one?” You could be less cruel and not want to irk him on, but that wouldn’t be interesting. Plus we’re here to train. so might as well get it started.

“I’m going to kill you.” Logan stops holding back and releases claws in one swift motion.

“What happened to this being a safe space?” Before you could continue being a smart ass he lunges at you.

Dodging you stop talking and actually try to use the training you’ve gotten to kick this guys ass. I mean what’s his fucking problem? You haven’t said a fucking word to him and he thinks he can just treat you this way with no consequences? Well fine douchbag you can get exactly what you want.

“You’re really fast! I can’t believe you’re like a thousand years old!” You say giggling as you move right in time to avoid a punch to the nose. “Now that would’ve hurt!” You spin around him kicking him straight in the back knocking him down. A quick groan and he’s back up in a flash.

Dodging and weaving his swift lunges and jabs, with a yelp you fall to the floor after he kicks your feet from under you. After being quickly tackled and claws threatening to break the skin right above one of your major artery’s you let out a small whimper.

“Are you finally going to shut the fuck up?” Logan growled a top of you teeth beared chest heaving and forehead sweaty. That was kind of fucking hot actually.

“Let’s just stop and talk this out, yeah?” You say holding your hands up next to your head giving him a big toothy smile.

Logan was more than a bit confused when his body started to move and his claws retracted. In his mind he’s screaming at his body for stopping. Pissed off at the fact he’s isn’t in control. Standing you dust yourself off and start again before he could get his control back.

“Now before you try to attack me again, let’s just take a breath and calm down. You’re fine by the way. I just have control over your body temporarily.” Anger flashes across his face and it hits you that it probably wasn’t the best idea to start with that.

“Since you’ve been a major fuck face these past few weeks you know shit about me. So let me have the pleasure of introducing myself again. My names (y/n) and I can control people with my mouth.” You smile pointing to your lips. He just stares back with slight confusion and disgust. “I tell them an action and they do it. I could hypothetically kill you at anytime too, so let’s be chill.” You say winking at him.

“Well it’s good thing I can’t die.” He says smirking back at you. Funny enough you released him a while ago yet he hasn’t attacked you again.

“You seem to be calm now?” You question. “Is that lesson one?” You poke at him.

“Don’t push it.” He huffs rolling his eyes and walking away. Doors closing behind him you crumble to the ground adrenaline rushing out of you.

A week or so of training later you and Logan still dislike each other as much as the first day you met, but you could feel a tension beneath the hate. A deep seated craving consisting of mostly hate but also a little curiosity. Maybe, even a bit of sexual frustration?

After a particularly long day of training you were quite irritated at Logan. He was being even harsher than he usually is, it was pissing you off. He lunged at you when you weren’t expecting it leaving a deep cut running down the center of your back and you couldn’t hold back a growl.

“What’s your fucking problem today?” Turning to him you stop making him hesitate. “Was I too nice for your liking, Wolvie?” You mock starting to walk towards him, frustration evident on your face.

“It is explanation enough to say that I just don’t like you?” Logan spit as venom coated every word, all while that stupid smirk wore his face. That’s it.

“Down.” Without a second to waste his knees hit the rough floor hard causing a groan to break his smugness. He couldn’t move, only being able to look at you and the anger that filled your eyes. Rage would be a better description. Joining him down on the floor you kneel as you find his chin making him lean closer to your face.

“You don’t have to be cruel Logan.” You pause looking right into his hazel eyes finding that look again. This time there was something different. You couldn’t help but soften slightly as your anger slowly started to fade. Then a sting of pain from sweat seeping into the cut he just gave you reignited the fire. Grabbing his chin harder he winces as you pull him against your forehead, noses practically touching and lips inches apart.

“Don’t let this happen again.” You push his face back hard making him tip over as you release him. Staring him down you finally turn once he stays put and leave.

Half way down the hall you hear the doors burst open with a loud bang and angry footsteps starting to rush after you. Turning you’re suddenly face to face again with Logan. This time your chins being grabbed and pulled towards his face.

“Look I don’t have a problem with you.” He whispers softly while he stares you right in the eye. It’s really hard to stay mad at him when his kitty hair is all disheveled and he’s flushed like a school girl who just got kissed for the first time.

“I didn’t mean to go as hard as I did.” He muttered out. You chuckled.

“I didn’t peg you as the type to be gentle. Unfortunately for you, I haven’t had the pleasure to figure that out.” With a smirk still on your face Logan swiftly throws you over his shoulder and starts walking down the hall. You wince as your fresh wound gets tugged distracting you from the fact that you’re going opposite of the med bay. Once you pass your room you finally noticed this not so fun fact.

“Hey, the med bay is the other way big guy. I kinda need to be stitched up here.” You say as a nervous chuckle escapes.

“I’ll stitch you up myself. I don’t need the professor all up my ass about it.” He doesn’t even look at you, just keeps walking. You hold in the laugh you so desperately want to let out because you don’t want to fuck this up. This is the nicest he has ever been. That’s right, that’s the end of that sentence with no buts! Except his actual ass being right in your view and if you could add you’d love to be all up in it.

Finally making it to his room he gently sits you on his bed. Turning around without saying a word he digs in his desk pulling out a fairly impressive med kit. Not one of those small ones no, no, like an actual emergency med bag. Your jaw dropped a little and he chuckled. Dropping it on the bed beside you he lifts your chin making you look up at him.

“You gotta take your suit off and lay down so I can stitch you up.” He said pointing to the clean plaid sheets. Looking where he pointed you chuckled.

“Well that’s a bit forward.” He rolled his eyes but this time he had a smile? “Wow I finally made you almost laugh!”

“Shut up and lay down already. I’m getting impatient.” Logan said it as harshly as he could but it came out more light than originally intended.

“Fine but turn around. You’re not getting a free show.” You wink as you give your finger a twirl. Sighing and softly shaking his head he turns around. Taking a moment to scan over his juicy toned muscular ass you then move on to actually do what you had him turn around for. Taking your top off you cup your chest and lay down.

“Alright bubble butt, I’m all yours.” Looking over your shoulder you see him turning around with an eyebrow raised until he finally sees you. His silent judgement turned into something darker. He collects himself and walks over to the bag once again shaking his head.

“Don’t stare at my ass, and definitely don’t make comments about it.” He says firmly, but you can tell he’s not being stern.

“Oh come on, it was right in front of my face! Plus, your hips sway slightly when you walk so it looked extra good-“ a loud whine stopped your sentence short when a sharp needle entered your back.

“A warning next time would be delightful!” You say sarcastically jaw clenched.

“I warned you not to talk about my ass.” That’s all he has to say?

“And once again, your ass was in my face! What else am I supposed to talk about? That’s a hypothetical by the way, it will always be about your ass.” At this point the adrenaline makes the pain in your back go numb. Fortunately, feeling his warm hand on your back kneading the needle through your skin has your panties wet. Luckily he’s fast with his needle work because two minutes later he’s done.

“Alright you’re all fixed up now.” He stands from the bed returning the supplies to his bag.

“Really?” You could have sworn that cut was huge. “Well I guess I’ll get dressed then.”

“Did you need me to turn around or are you going to finally act like I’ve seen tits before? That’s a hypothetical of course.” Mocking you with a cheeky smirk and one brow raised he tosses the med bag off the bed and onto the floor. Arms crossed he stares down at you still lying on the bed.

“Is that your way of asking to see my tits? I’d love to test and see if you’re as harsh in bed as you are during training.” Turning around still holding your chest you give your shoulders a slight shrug. “What’s it gonna be Logan? Hate sex or awkward eye contact in the hallway?”

As quick as he is in training, he’s now right in front of you, your jaw gripped by his hand. He leans down getting right in your face. You can feel his warmth radiating from his skin, it made you shiver.

“Don’t get all shy now,” He mocked. “I don’t hate you.” He looks you up and down scanning every inch of your body, unclothed and clothed. “I will fuck you though.”

“I didn’t think that’d actually work but show me what you got baby!” You say hands falling from your chest and pulling his jaw into a kiss. He kisses you back grabbing your side slowly moving to kneel on the bed. Lowering into the bed you’re now lying down. The pressure not the best feeling on your back you let out a quiet hiss.

“What’s the matter? Is it your back?” He asked gently leaning your back off the bed relieving the pain shooting though out you.

“Yeah, usually I wouldn’t mind missionary but I think your love swipe is begging for us to do something kinkier.” You say winking. Before he can say a word you hook your legs around his waist using your momentum to flip him under you on to the bed. Kissing the shock off his face he pulls back suddenly.

“Who taught you that?” He questioned, jealousy slightly peaking through.

“That’s a personal trick. Consider it a mini lesson of my own to you.” You leave a little boop to his nose finding his lips again before he could ask any more questions. Starting to grind down on him, he grabs your hips rolling them at a slower pace. It was deeper though, way harder. Slow hard and precise. You didn’t stop the moan that fell into his mouth. Groaning in response he squeezed your hips even tighter causing you to pull back. Arching your back while dry humping him you let out a breathy moan. Reaching up you grab your tits rolling your nipples in between your fingers. Still guiding your hips a low rumble growls from Logan’s throat as his head rolled back. A pretty erotic site.

“You’re killing me here bub.” He groaned out as he sat up meeting face to face. He starts kissing your jaw moving down to your pressure point playfully nibbling. You moan embarrassingly loud, you could feel his grin against your neck. That made you want to stroke your ego a bit. Pulling his head back by the roots of his hair you grind down extra hard feeling his hip buck to meet yours. You quietly laugh and push him back down. Crawling up an inch or two to give him one more sloppy kiss before sitting back up.

“Don’t worry baby you don’t have to wait for this pretty pussy any longer.” You’re unbuckling his belt and pulling his boxers down to remove his- holy shit huge cock.

“Damn Logan! They weren’t lying when they said you were huge down unda!” You turn to wink to the fourth wall.

“Usually that would kill the mood but you’re really fucking hot.” He pants out “Now back to what you were doing.” He pulls his pants further down his hips and you begin to stroke him.

Eventually getting to impatient you say fuck it and decide to take him all in one go. Loudly he groans, his eyes meet yours, his pupils fully blown out. At the sight you couldn’t help but start bouncing on his cock. Letting go of your hips he lets you set the pace. Grinding down you curve your hips so he could run against your walls deliciously rough. Getting slightly cock drunk after just a few strides your pace begins to increase wanting more of that feeling. Growing desperate you let out a whimpering moan. Hands falling from your chest to Logan’s chest.

“Logan, please.” You beg desperately. Still riding him you plead with him. You looked so pitiful, he couldn’t help the way his twitched hard deep in you. You’re so fucking beautiful.

“What do you want baby? Use your words.”

“I want you to fuck me.” You whine out, you want him to take control and fuck the shit out of you. “Fuck me so hard I won’t be able to walk tomorrow!” You moan out loudly as he bucks his hips up suddenly. Grabbing your hand he intertwines with your fingers squeezing hard and steadying you. Bucking up into you fast he doesn’t feel he is deep enough.

Moving to grab you by your waist he flips you onto your knees face being pushed into his pillows. Drool starts to pool in your mouth form being engulfed by the scent of his sheets. He pushes himself back in quickly making you moan out his name.

“This better princess?” He said with a big smirk “I only want to hear my name come out your mouth. Got it?”

“Yes, daddy!” You were half joking about that nickname. Good thing you felt his cock twitch before you let out that nervous laugh bubbling up your throat.

“Fuck me.” He moans out.

“No fuck me-“ cut off once again by his cock pounding into you. Grabbing at the sheets you could feel his hands move from your hips to rest on either side of your head. Hitting even deeper inside you he then grabs your throat with one hand making you sit up on your hands and knees. Still fucking into you he pulls you all the way up to his chest, grabbing his arm for support you feel him tighten his grip on your neck. This euphoria wasn’t going to last much longer because you were gonna cum hard.

“Logan- I’m gonna cum!” You could barely speak between your pants and erotic moans.

“Cum on my cock princess.” His other hand finds your clit rubbing it at the same pace his cock is pounding inside of you. Letting out a loud moan you could feel the warmth building fast.

“Want me to cum inside you? I want to cum with you.” Panting to the pace of his hips he continues “Fill you up like the slut you are.” He growls into your ear. His voice full of lust and desperation.

“Fill me up baby!” You laugh out in between moans. He groans as he feels your walls spasm around him. You feel bliss and see black speckles fill your vision as your cum dribbles down his cock. Reaching back your hands find his hair and dig hard into his scalp. The pain causes Logan to fall over the edge and cum hard deep inside you.

“Oh fuck, can’t stop!” He practically whined out still fucking into you chasing his high. Still rubbing your clit you start to whine out from over stimulation. Before he can stop himself from rutting into you anymore you come again. Almost screaming out a moan you dig your nails into his shoulders. You feel so fucking warm, soaking wet and tight. Logan can’t pull himself away from you. You feel to good.

“Logan, you horny bitch!” Smirking while grinding back into him you slow his pace down. Moving his hand away from your clit his hands find the inner parts of your thigh. Picking you up slightly to meet his hips even closer than before he groans into the side of your neck. You start to feel the familiar cold metal of his claws poking into your thighs.

“Feel good pretty boy?” You turn towards his face and move one of your hands to his jaw. Before he could answer you start to make out with him while still grinding into him harder. Logan moans into your mouth before pulling away. Finally stopping with his cock still hard inside you he sighs into your shoulder kissing you.

“Feel real fucking good.” Starting to leave a hickey right behind your ear you begin to pull away.

“You trying to go another round or do you need more time to recover hot stuff? I don’t want to hurt that metal hip you know how to move just right.” Squeezing his sides you can feel his abs move under your hands. You moan quietly moving your hands down to his v line. Eventually making your way to his ass giving it a firm squeeze. Turning your head at the same time you find the side of his neck biting down a little rough on the lobe of his ear.

He growls out and you can feel his claws start to push against the flesh of your thighs. Retracting them he pulls out and flips you around sitting you up on your knees facing him on the edge of the bed.

“Bend down and suck my dick loud mouth.” Grabbing you by the base of your hair you slowly started crawling down onto your hands and knees. Ass arched in the air you find the tip of his cock in your face. Pre cum falling from his pinkish tip. You lick your lips looking up at him.

“It’d be my pleasure.” Not getting a chance to say anything else he starts fucking into your mouth. Breathing through your nose you start to lick against his length going opposite of his thrusts. Loud squelching filled the room. It was absolutely filthy, but so fucking HOT! You moaned into his cock, the vibrations sending a shiver through him. Moaning loud he starts going faster. Tears start to roll down your cheeks and you feel nothing but pure pleasure.

“I’m gonna cum soon. Keep sucking baby.” His eyes are shut tightly and you decide then you want to see him totally fucked out. Sucking extra hard and messy you lock eyes with him when he looks down at you. Moaning loudly he starts to pant.

“Good girl! Fuck you’re really good! Don’t stop!” Using both hands he starts pushing your head down faster and way deeper. His dick was starting to go down your throat. Deep throating him you hold yourself down on his cock moaning out his name. Barely audible for obvious reasons, he pulled you off his cock.

“What’s my name princess?” He smirks holding the base of his cock in his other hand.

“Logan!” Sounding hoarse considering this is the first time you could breathe in the last 5 minutes.

“But I prefer wolf daddy!” Always gotta keep the mood light! Gently slapping you on your cheek he pushes your head all the way down his cock. Gagging from the sudden intrusion you quickly begin to suck on him again.

Logan’s hips bucked into your mouth over and over while his balls slapped against your chin. Slobber running down your chin reaching your throat dribbling all over his balls and down his pelvis. His pubes leading to a happy trail is all you can focus on for the moment. Some of your juice still glistening on his mound. You moan against his dick again finally pushing him over causing him to grip your hair tight. Swallowing every last drop he has to give you. A low hum comes from you as the veins on his chest pop out from the pleasure. God this man was fucking hot. Rock hard abs, a sweat glistened chest with the sexiest chest hair, his perfectly cut arms and beautifully sculpted legs. The full package. And god knows you LOVE his package.

Popping off his cock once he was down you swallow the rest of his cum in your mouth. Licking your lips you sit up meeting his lips so he could taste himself on your tongue. One passionate steamy kiss later you pull back running a hand through his hair down to his cheek.

“I’m surprised you can use that mouth for more than just shit talk.” He chuckles kissing you quickly on the cheek.

“You always have to be able to ride the cock if you’re gonna talk the talk. Is that how that saying goes?” Tilting your head he puts his hand over your mouth.

“Enough of that.” Shaking his head he leaves you on the bed going to his closet. He pulls out a new pair of boxers pulling them on and then grabbing a pair for you. Moving over he grabs a wife beater for himself and an over sized flannel for you. Walking back over he sets your clothes on the bed.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Pointing to your cunt that’s still dripping his cum. “It’s not very gentlemanly to leave a mess.”

Kneeling down he sits between your legs. Without saying a word he starts licking between your folds lapping up all the cum in its wake. Rolling your head back you fall back on to your elbows. Moaning out his name his tongue dives into your hole making your flinch. Hand instinctively finding his hair pulling a little. Finding your eyes he starts to suck on your clit. Flicking his tongue fast up and down, then swirling around you he moans. The noise mixed with being over stimulated already had you cumming again but this time into his mouth.

“God Logan don’t stop!” Riding against his face you stop a minute later once your high has passed. With a groan you fall limp against his sheets. Not even caring about the slight ache that goes through your back.

“I finally got you to shut up.” And without saying a word you’re already out cold. Getting a cloth he washes you up and dresses you in his clothes. I guess he didn’t mind spending the night with you in his bed. You were surprisingly cute when you slept snoring softly and cuddled all into his side. You were warm and soft too. Logan can learn to like this quiet side of you.

I hope you guys enjoyed this one, I haven’t posted for a while so it’s hard not to second guess myself. Let me know if you want anymore Wolverine and possibly even Deadpool content?

[adragonprinceswhore]

Rumours

Aemond Targaryen x (Ex)Wife

Chapter V: Silver Springs 🎼 Masterlist

Summary: You think back to the tumultuous end of your marriage.

Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, angst, fighting, possessive Aemond, toxic relationship dynamic, dysfunctional family dynamic, physical violence, blood, anger issues

Word count: 5700

A/N: As always, I’d like to acknowledge my love, Justine @theoneeyedprince 🩵 She’s writing a new series called Careless Whisper and it is a gem! ILY!

“You excited for the big show tonight?”

Jace’s cheery voice greets you as you enter the backstage area of Winterfell Arena. You look up from your phone and acknowledge your bandmate with a smile, 

“Excited and more nauseous than I’ve ever been”, you joke, sliding your phone in your pocket. 

It looks like most backstage rooms have looked so far on the tour; sparsely decorated with fold up tables and chairs. There’s an array of snacks and drinks offered, and you make your way to the refreshments next to Jace to grab some coffee. 

He appears to already be wearing his stage clothes; a tight, purple silk button-down shirt that  shows just enough skin to get his fans excited. Despite the curse of being the overlooked bassist, Jace has a small yet rowdy fanbase, who tend to go absolutely mental whenever he winks at them from stage. He loves the attention, and you guess today’s extra slutty outfit choice is his gift to them. 

He moves to lean against the table, plastic coffee cup in hand,

“So, will you treat us to a new song tonight? I hadn’t heard ‘Dreams’ all put together before we performed it but damn, it sounded great”

You meet his eyes as you pick up the plastic cup by the small ear on the side, 

“I think I’ll do ‘Dreams’, it’s the only one I feel is really finished”, you reply and take a sip. 

There is another song you’ve been working tirelessly on, but you’re not sure if you feel ready to perform it. 

It is one of the reasons why your album is delayed. The members have all recorded their instruments and finished the back-up, yet you haven’t submitted a final version of your vocals. 

As a musician, you’re used to pouring your heart out when writing lyrics, not afraid of getting personal. And still, for some reason, this one almost feels too revealing; too intimate to sing out loud. 

You have the lyrics written down, and you’ve sung them to yourself at home. But singing them on stage, with him there, feels too exposing.

Too vulnerable.  

You haven’t seen Aemond since your regrettable tryst in his hotel room. 

After reading through the divorce papers, you called Alysanne back up, needing help to wrap your head around the entire situation. 

After a few hours of talking, she convinced you that this was for the best. 

You’d gotten what you wanted. 

And the mishap in Aemond’s room was, according to your best friend, nothing more than a chance to “bang one out” one last time. 

“Got it”, Jace replies in his typical cheerful manner. He reaches for a small biscuit on the table and pops it into his mouth, “I’m sure your song will sound great. They always do” 

His warm, brown eyes shine as he assures you of your abilities. It feels nice; how uncomplicated his praise is, and you smile back at him again, thankful to have at least one easy-going person in your band. 

You continue to chat light-heartedly as you wait for the other band members to arrive.  

When Jace heads outside for a smoke, you spot a familiar notebook on one of the chairs nearby. 

It’s open.

Curious and foolish, you head over to see what’s written. 

You glance at the paper, lyrics written by hand in impeccable handwriting. You know you shouldn’t, but you can’t help yourself. 

‘I don’t wanna stand ‘tween you and love, honey’‘I just want you to feel fine’

Again with the self-pitying? Fucking hell, he’s relentless. 

Did he want you to “feel fine” when he forbade you from attending events without him? Or when he went through your email without your permission?  

‘Oh, you say you love me but you don’t know’

You put the paper back down, already feeling your mood souring. 

Prick.

When you first started dating, you quickly learned that Aemond was the rock of his family. 

If his brother had been arrested for drunk and disorderly behaviour, he was there. 

If his mum needed someone to help organise a charity event, he was there. 

If his grandfather needed him to go over a case at 3 am, he was there. 

Seeing the stress of such immense pressure weigh him down, you, in turn, tried to be his rock; supporting him in any way you could. 

You managed quite well. Like those times he came home late after spending 12 hours at the office, and you greeted him with a smile and a home-cooked meal, kissing his cheek. 

He’d sit down and grab you by the waist as you placed the plates on the table, keeping you on his lap while you ate and discussed your days together. 

When you finished eating, you’d stay like that. He’d lean into you, resting his face in the crook of your neck while he held you close, thanking you for the delicious meal. 

You knew that he was thankful for what you did for him; gratitude evident in his voice and how he complimented your cooking skills. Still, there was always this sadness inside of him, a pitiful tint to his tone. 

It was tough seeing how drained he got from being everything for everyone. 

Aemond’s older sibling never felt the crushing pressure of being Otto Hightower’s protégée. While he worked tirelessly at Oldtown Solicitors after finishing his degree, they chose to pursue the band full-time. A privileged career choice made optional by their generous trust funds. 

You took a part-time position after graduating so that you could stay in the band and write music. Aemond nearly convinced you to focus on the band full-time as well, arguing that he could provide for you if you ever needed anything. Despite the generous offer, you decided that he already had enough to deal with, and potentially adding further to his endless list of responsibilities didn’t sit right with you. 

You wanted to ease his troubles, not add to them. 

Consequently, when you recorded your first album, it was mostly at night, after Aemond had finished working with his grandfather. His natural talent and precision as a guitarist and singer meant that it usually only took him two or three attempts before he was satisfied with a piece. 

You, on the other hand, did not find the recording process as easy. 

You feel tears of frustration sting your eyes as you step out of the sound booth. Helaena, Aegon and Jace had already gone home, drained from a full day of recording. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?”, Aemond asks when he sees the way the corners of your lips pull downward. 

You let out a shaky breath to gather yourself, swallowing in an attempt to make the lump in your throat disappear, 

“I can’t do it, it just-, it sounds like shit no matter how many times I-”, you mumble, cutting yourself off as you try to take another deep breath, determined not to cry. 

You feel silly, getting so upset over something so nonsensical. Still, being unable to deliver in the way you’d like has left you feeling powerless over your own voice, like you can’t control it. 

Aemond stands up from his seat by the mixing table and slowly makes his way towards you. He moves one of his hands to cup your cheek and looks down to make eye contact with you, 

“Don’t say that”

His voice is soft as his thumb gently strokes your cheek, “It’s late and you’re tired, it’s okay to need a break. But never doubt yourself, love”. 

He leans down to place a kiss on your forehead and you crave his touch like nothing else, pushing yourself against his body as your arms hug his waist. He hugs you back, one hand stroking your hair, and you instantly feel the lump in your throat melt away. 

The tears that had threatened to spill, never do. 

He makes it all go away.

The blood, sweat and tears you’d put into creating your first ever album as Dragon Dreamers proved to be worth it. Suddenly, your songs play on the radio and are featured on major playlists, where thousands of people can listen to them. 

The success instigated both you and Aemond quitting your jobs and focusing on the band full time together with Helaena, Aegon and Jace. You were certain that leaving Oldtown Solicitors and creating some distance with his grandfather would be good for Aemond, maybe even pushing him to open up to you more. 

He had a tendency of shutting you out, particularly when he was clearly distressed by something. He refused to even acknowledge some things, like he wanted to spare you from it. Yet all his secrecy did was make you feel lonely; like a stranger your beloved did not trust enough to let in. Every time he dismissed your concerns and refused to speak about what was upsetting him, another crack appeared on your weary heart. 

During the first year of your relationship you’d been under the impression that you and Aemond shared a connection so innate and deep, you didn’t need to discuss things like other couples did. 

You were able to understand each other wordlessly. 

And though there was truth in that assumption, time made you realise that Aemond’s inability to open up slowly tore a cavernous rift between the two of you. 

Music blasts out of the speakers in the crowded bar, making it hard for you to hear Tyland as he introduces you to one of his colleagues. 

It’s a man around 30, with a slightly crooked smile and long, dark hair pulled back in a bun. 

You move closer to hear what he’s saying, nodding along to his explanation of what next for your band. 

“We’d like to make a music video for one of your songs, maybe featuring a live performance?”, he asks and you feel yourself light up at the thought. A bright smile breaks out over your face, revealing your approval of his proposal. 

“That would be amazing!” 

You nearly have to shout for him to hear you over the ruckus in the bar, and you lean in a little closer. 

“Have you ever considered doing some solo stuff? On the side, of course”, he asks, grey eyes locked with yours. 

You open your mouth to answer, but before you have a chance you feel a warm hand on your shoulder, stopping you, 

“She wouldn’t have time for that”

Aemond’s firm voice answers right behind you. You didn’t see him come up, and you can hear the irritation in his voice. A quiet sigh leaves your lips, dreading what’s to come. 

The man Tyland had introduced you to appears a bit stunned by the sudden shift in atmosphere, and offers you both an awkward smile and stiff nod before heading to the bar counter. 

You turn to face Aemond, whose face is set in a frown,

“What was that about?”, he asks and you feel irate frustration bubble up inside your chest. 

This is not the first time he’s taken the liberty of answering for you, or scaring away anyone who dared approach you. 

“Nothing”, you reply before walking around Aemond, moving towards the door. 

You need air, your husband’s presence suffocating you. 

You step outside and spot Jace, leaning against the wall with a cigarette hanging from his lips. 

“You don’t happen to have one more?” 

He pulls out the pack together with his lighter and opens it for you in an invitation to steal one. 

You place the cigarette between your lips, mumble out “thanks”, and light it up. 

You take a drag, let the smoke fill your lungs, and you close your eyes. 

The nicotine gives you a slight high and your fingertips tingle pleasantly. 

“Give us a minute, Jace”

Aemond’s voice interrupts your serenity, and your companion leaves without a word of protest.  

You open your eyes to look at Aemond. You know he’s upset about what had just happened, but there is something else that he’s not telling you. 

Behind the angry facade, he seems sad. 

Or insecure? 

It is hard to decipher when he so persistently tries to push those feelings down. 

He doesn’t say anything. His hand seeks out yours to grab the cigarette and he takes a long drag before handing it back to you. You wish he’d just talk to you. Tell you what makes him act so hostile towards those around you. 

Towards you.

It makes you anxious; the uncertainty. Not knowing what’s going on inside. 

Aemond breaks the silence.,

“So, you really want to leave the band?”

You click your tongue in frustration and throw the cigarette on the ground, stomping on it until the bud stops glowing,

“When have I ever said that?”

“You sure seemed happy when that scumbag wanted to steal you away”, he says and moves to lean against the wall next to you. 

“Aemond”, you sigh, looking up to meet his eyes. He is so hard to read it infuriates you. 

You know there is no point in fighting. It’s like his mind is set on distrusting you; of thinking the worst of you. 

“Every time you act like this, you break my heart. It's like you don’t trust me in the slightest”, you say in a helplessly defeated voice,

“That hurts, you know”

As Aemond got more and more possessive over you, he also kept you further and further away from himself. 

Sometimes you wondered if he actually hated you. 

Why else would you cause his ire to light up so fiercely? 

Whenever someone approached you, he was there, looming over you. 

Guarding you. 

Like you were his, and no one else was allowed near. 

No matter how many times you asked him to stop, he wouldn’t listen. 

Instead, after you found yourselves in a fight, something that had become a weekly occurrence, he’d head out without a word, leaving you alone in your shared home. 

He could be gone for hours, leaving his phone behind so you couldn’t contact him. It felt like torture, waiting for him to come back without any knowledge of what he was up to, or if he was okay. 

When he eventually came back and you confronted him about his behaviour, he dismissed your concerns, telling you that he just needed to “clear his head”. 

Everything about the situation felt unfair. 

Not just the fact that he opted for running away instead of talking to you, but also because you knew he’d be livid if you decided to suddenly leave in the middle of the night. 

After a year of meaningless fights, petty arguments and baseless accusations, you came to the realisation that you couldn’t be his rock anymore. And he’d stopped being yours long ago. 

Before the success of the band, you could provide him with reassurance and love. 

Now, it seemed like he’d made you the enemy, suspicious of everything you did, set on distrusting you. 

Staying with him, loving him, felt like too great of a challenge. 

And maybe it was. 

Taking one last look in the mirror, you put on just a little more lipstick before tossing it in your handbag and walking out of the bathroom. You’d ordered a taxi for six o’clock, and it should arrive any minute now. 

“When were you going to tell me about this?”

Aemond’s harsh voice echoes in the quiet room. 

He’s leaning against the kitchen island in the middle of your open-plan flat. You feel the all too familiar pit of anxiety form in your stomach at his tone. 

He’s irritated again. 

He holds your phone up so that you can see the screen, an email from Tyland.

He’d contacted you earlier today about an opportunity for you to do a photoshoot and interview at Casterly Rock to promote the band's biggest hit yet, Landslide. 

Your eyes narrow as you look at Aemond, 

“Don’t go through my emails”

“Tyland wrote that he’s already booked you a ticket. You have to run that by me first”, he continues in a stern voice. 

As if he’s lecturing a child on bad behaviour. 

You stay silent, move to the sink to pick up a glass and fill it with water. You try to distract yourself enough to breathe, anger already making you feel hot all over. 

“It was a last minute decision, it’s only 2 nights next week”, you explain through clenched teeth. 

You really don’t want to get into a fight right before a show, and had already decided to tell Aemond after instead. Somewhere inside, you knew he wouldn’t be happy. 

“Were you not going to give me the courtesy of letting me know that you’re leaving?”

“I was going to tell you after the show”

Your body is still facing the sink so you won’t have to face him. 

You can’t decide if you’re more angry with him for trying to control you, or saddened by the fact that he doesn’t trust you. 

“You should’ve told me imm-”

“Aemond, you don’t own me. Stop acting like I’m your possession!”

Your irksome voice cuts him off. His still trying to keep his cool, tone refusing to match your intensity as he answers, 

“But I am your husband”

“It’s just two nights away. I’ll be with Tyland the entire time”, you say, softening your tone to not trigger him further. 

“Out of the question. You’re not going”, he replies stoicly and places your phone back on the kitchen island before standing up. 

“That’s not for you to decide!”

Your previous attempt to remain calm fails. You almost want to laugh at the absurdity of it all; being denied a business trip by your husband like he’s your guardian. 

“Yes, because we’re a team! I’d never fucking run away without you”, Aemond spits, clearly as incapable of keeping a level head as you are. 

“It’s two nights away to promote the band. I’m not “running away”, you clarify and turn to face him. 

You can see how exasperated he is by his stiff posture and the hard look in his seeing eye. He tries so hard to hide it, and yet you always manage to see through the facade. 

“It’s good publicity”, you say. 

“I said no”, is all he replies before he moves to the sideboard by the door, picking up the keys placed in a small dish resting on the polished surface. 

You feel your face heat up in anger at his dismissal of your words; of your agency. 

How dare he think he can dictate your life? 

“Well, I don’t need your fucking permission!”, you shout back at him, 

“If I want to fly to Casterly Rock, or any other fucking place, I will! You can’t stop me from doing anything, Aemond. I’ll fly to fucking Yi Ti if I so wish! You can’t-”

Your rant is cut off by a sudden loud crash by the wall next to you. 

The remnants of the dish where you kept your house keys lies in shambles on the floor next to you. Your wide eyes look down at the plate's remainders in disbelief before travelling towards Aemond. 

It’s like both of you are frozen in shock from his actions. His recovery seems to be quicker than yours, regret clear on his face and in his voice, 

“Shit. Fuck! Sorry, I’m so sorry”

He rambles apologies in panic, clearly stunned by his own action. He tries to shuffle closer to you, but you recoil as soon as he comes near.  

The shock of his action and the loud sound that accompanied it triggers something inside you, and you immediately feel tears well up in your eyes. 

You feel like a child; startled and scared. 

“Fuck. Sorry for scaring you, love”

His voice is much softer than mere seconds ago. Pleading. 

Aemond brings his hands up slightly, a sign of surrender, and moves closer to comfort you. 

You wince and back away from him, eyes still widened in disbelief. 

“I’d never hurt you”, he tries to assure you. 

You still can’t fully comprehend what had just happened, 

“How the fuck am I supposed to believe that?”

Aemond opens his mouth to answer just as the intercom rings, signalling that the taxi is waiting downstairs. 

You try to gather yourself somewhat and take a deep breath before moving to grab your bag and jacket from the hallway. 

Aemond’s pitiful expression observes you, and you tell him, “When we get back, we need to talk about this. About us. I can’t take this any more”

The taxi ride to the venue is excruciating. 

Aemond hasn’t said a word, but his fingers are tapping restlessly against his thigh, something you’d learned to be one of his most prominent nervous habits. 

In the corner of your eye, you can see how his gaze repeatedly seeks out yours, but you refuse to look at him. 

He reaches out to lightly touch your fingers, but you move away from his touch,

“I-, I don’t know what came over me, love. I am so sorry for scaring you, I promise it will never happen again”

You’re too tired to respond, and stubbornly continue to watch the city pass by through the car window. 

When the cab pulls up to the live house, you can still feel the tears of shock drying on your cheeks. You thank the driver and step out of the car, before entering the backstage area. 

The small room you’d been assigned to prepare in smells musky and the lights are toned down. 

Helaena is nowhere to be found, but you immediately notice Jace’s brown locks in the corner of the room, seated in an armchair with his base in his lap. 

On the large, brown leather sofa placed in the middle of the room sits a slouching young man with ruffled, silvery hair and purple bags under his eyes. He lights up when he sees you enter, voice slightly slurred, 

“There she is! King’s Landing’s new little, uh-, fucking-, romantic, sexy sweetheart!”, Aegon drunkenly declares, smiling from ear to ear, 

“Charming everyone with her sad songs”

“Hi Aegon, are you okay?”, you ask gently.

You try as hard as you can to hide the fact that you’re disappointed in seeing him so clearly intoxicated. 

You know he has problems with alcohol, and despite a recent trip to rehab, he hasn’t gotten much better. 

“I am, now that you’re here”, he replies with a sloppy wink. 

You move towards the small fridge by the wall of the cramped room, pulling out a water bottle and handing it to him without saying a word. 

He brings the bottle up in a mock cheer before opening it and taking a large sip, possibly to show you, and Aemond, that he isn’t as drunk as you assume he is. 

“Always so fucking sweet to me”, he smiles at you, “Mondo, you’re a lucky guy, you know”, he addresses his brother, who’s leaning against the door, clearly displeased with the fact that Aegon hadn’t been capable of waiting until after the show before he got shit-faced. 

The hostility between the brothers is clearly one-sided as the older Targaryen continues,

“I just saw the most unhinged shit online man! Some fans were discussing what her favourite position is”, he laughs out as he addresses his brother. Aemond’s face is stoic, but you can see the tension in his jaw as he fixes his eye on Aegon. 

“Is it true, baby? Is it really doggy?”, he asks as his eyes shift from Aemond to you. 

You’d gotten more or less used to how lewd your brother-in-law could get when he’s drunk. But being asked something so crass after the day you’d had only leaves you feeling disgusted. 

“Knock it off”, Aemond’s stern voice cuts through the cramped space. 

You notice Jace shifting uncomfortably in his seat, picking up the pack of cigarettes in front of him on the coffee table before standing up and heading out of the door. 

You wish you could run away as well, but the tension radiating from Aemond tells you to stay put.

“Oh, come on, it’s all in good fun! I’d die to have a girlfriend with tits like that”

Whatever game Aegon thinks he’s playing with his brother is clearly one-sided. Aemond quickly jerks his head to the side to look at his brother, seeing eye darting at a speed that his blind eye’s incapable of. 

“Uh oh! Eyes going two different directions!”, Aegon says with a laugh, crossing his eyes to mock Aemond, 

“Can Lazy Eye look you in the face when he’s fucking you?”, he asks and he turns to you, eyes still meeting over the bridge of his nose. 

“Seriously, Aegon, knock it off”, you plea. 

He can turn so fucking mean when he’s drunk, hiding his own displeasure with life behind jabs at his brother. 

He continues to laugh when he adds,

“One eye on your face and one on your tits? A pity he can’t see through it”.

Before you have a chance to reply, Aemond lunges forward, fist held high as he smashes it against his brother's face. Aegon keeps laughing even as blood spills from his nose, staining Aemond’s hand going in for blow after blow. 

You’re frozen for a millisecond before you start to yell at him to stop, but it’s like he doesn’t hear you.  

Neither does he hear his older brother’s laughs turn to grunts of pain as he begins to sober up under Aemond’s assault. 

You see Aegon’s face turn slack, eyes fluttering shut like he’s going out of consciousness. Aemond continues to land punch after punch on his brother’s face and you feel panic rush inside of you. 

You throw yourself on Aemonds back in an attempt to pull him away. He’s inaccessible, not listening to your desperate pleas for him to stop.

Drops of blood are flying in front of you, landing on the worn leather sofa underneath Aegon. Your arms encircle Aemond’s shoulders as you try to pull him off of his brother with all your might. 

He tries to shrug you off, but as he goes in for the next hit, his elbow accidentally retracts against the side of your body, making harsh contact with your ribs. 

You wail out in pain and Aemond immediately stops his assault on his brother to turn around and look at you in panicked worry. 

Your body’s folded over the coffee table next to the sofa, hand placed over the spot that's hurting on the side of your stomach. 

He moves away from Aegon to make his way towards you, but you back away from him by reflex, suddenly too aware of how dangerous his temperament can be. 

You hurry up on your feet to quickly leave the backstage area, Aemond’s strained voice calling out your name behind you. 

He’s fucking lost it.

Thinking back to everything that led up to your divorce leaves you feeling a mix of emotions, misery being the most prominent one. 

This is supposed to be the highlight of your career; the band’s biggest show yet. 

You don’t want to feel like this; a constant state of being filled with sorrow. 

You want to enjoy performing again. 

You can hear the crowd call for you to come out on stage, and you feel nerves ebbing through your veins in anxious waves. 

“Aemond wanted to perform ‘Never Going Back Again’ as the first part of the encore later on”, Helaena says and looks at you. You feel even more restless. 

“And I thought maybe you have another new song to sing? Maybe the one you sent me a recording of?”

Her hand comes up to rest reassuringly on your upper arm. You know which one she means, even if she doesn’t say anything else. The song. 

“I told the guys it’s called ‘Silver Springs’, they’ll know which one it is from recording. I know we haven’t practised it together but Dreams was such a hit with the fans, I’m sure they’ll love this one too”, she says and smiles gently in that way only she’s capable of. 

The thought of Aemond performing ‘Never Going Back Again’, on top of singing ‘The Chain’ and ‘Go Your Own Way’, lights a fuse inside of you. 

You look over at him, 

“Okay”

This is it. 

The stage, vast and intimidating, seems to close in as the intro to ‘Silver Springs’ starts to play. 

You have no idea if Aemond had listened to the voice recordings for the song.

You asked Helaena to do backup vocals instead of him on the track, hoping that would make the song feel less of a testament to your heartbreak. 

‘You could be my silver spring’

‘Blue-green, colours flashing’

‘I would be your only dream’

‘Your shining autumn, ocean crashing’ 

What if he had read the lyrics? 

Had he pondered them weeks after, dreading to hear you sing them on stage? 

‘And don’t say that she’s pretty’

‘And did you say that she loved you?’

‘Baby I don’t wanna know’

Had he even cared?

Your longing gets the best of you, and you glance over at Aemond. 

‘So I begin not to love you’

‘Turn around, see me runnin’’

‘I say “I loved you years ago”’

‘Tell myself you’d never loved me’ 

His face is stoic; good eye already observing you.  

He might look calm to the audience, but you can see the tension in his jaw. You see how he’s breathing heavily out of his nose. 

His grip on the guitar seems bruising, fingers moving skillfully; never making a mistake. 

You quickly look away. 

Why do you suddenly find him so intimidating? 

‘And don’t say that she’s pretty’

‘And did you say that she loves you?’

‘Baby, I don’t wanna know’

‘And can you tell me, was it worth it?’

‘Baby, I don’t wanna know’ 

Your own lyrics prickle your heart. 

Do you tell yourself he never loved you because that’d be easier? 

What if it was true, that he never really loved you? 

He’d been possessive over you. And he’d been controlling. But that’s not love. 

Loving someone means you care for their well-being and happiness, over anything else. 

You know he loves Alicent and Helaena. He treats them differently from how he’s been with you; he was so much gentler with them. 

Picking fights with you over nothing, controlling your life and not letting you be happy, that's not love. 

Worst of all, he doesn’t act like that with Alys. 

Does he love her?

‘Time cast a spell on you, but you won’t forget me’

‘I know I could have loved you, but you would not let me’

You think back to how your relationship once was. 

When he was your biggest supporter, erasing any doubts you had about your own talent. Always reassuring you that you were worthy. 

That man is not the one sharing a stage with you now. 

The sorrow over losing your beloved husband turns to anger, and you need him to know. 

He needs to see how much he hurt you. 

‘Time cast a spell on you, but you won’t forget me’ 

You can’t look away, not even when tears start forming in the corners of your eyes. 

Aemond’s seeing eye looks so dead; completely void of emotion. His knuckles are white from the force in which he’s holding his guitar. 

‘I know I could have loved you, but you would not let me’

Every emotion you’ve tried to suppress comes crashing over you; 

Anger.

Hurt.

Betrayal.

Grief. 

But you won’t let him win. You can’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you broken. 

You feel a tear escape down your cheek, but you refuse to look away from his face as you keep singing, 

‘I’ll follow you down ‘til the sound of my voice can haunt you’

‘Oh, give it just a chance’

‘You’ll never get away from the sound of the woman that loved you’

Despite standing in front of thousands of people, despite what happened in his hotel room, this feels like the most intimate exchange you’ve had in months. You want him to see how much he hurt you. 

You want him to feel bad. 

To hurt too.

‘Was I such a fool?’ 

‘I’ll follow you down ‘til the sound of my voice can haunt you’

Your voice almost breaks from the sheer force of the emotions pouring out of you, but you manage, singing with nothing but raw emotion and sorrow-fuelled rage. More tears slide down your cheeks. 

‘Oh, give it just a chance’

‘You’ll never get away from the sound of the woman that loved you’

‘Time cast a spell on you, but you won’t forget me’

‘I know I could have loved you, but you would not let me’ 

You finish up the concert on auto-pilot, not really present anymore. As soon as you finish playing The Chain, you make your way back to the hotel. 

You throw the door to your room open, kick off your shoes, and dive into the back of the closet where you store your clothes. 

You pull out Aemond’s university hoodie from the black bin bag you’d tossed it in, anger consuming you just by the sight of it. 

Fuck him. 

You look around the hotel room for something sharp; a pair of scissors, a wine opener, a fork, anything. You spot the small pair of scissors you use to trim your nails with on the nightstand and grab them before stabbing one of the tiny blades into the soft material of the hoodie. 

Fuck him. 

Your vision turns blurry as tears well up in your eyes for the second time this evening, but the tiny bit of relief you feel from ruining something of Aemond’s is intoxicating. 

You put your fingers through the small holes you’d made in the fabric and pull with all your strength, ripping the shirt over and over until it’s nothing but a pile of scraps of fabric. 

Fuck him.

A/N: Thank you for readig! 🫶

[unsolvedjarin]

I was going through a Charles video that mentioned him blacking out in the car at some point. Since I’m a sucker for angst, I was wondering what it would be like for mentor!Seb if it were the reader in that situation instead. Perhaps the season before the one he retires? And maybe we could see more of the reader’s friendship with Charles? Only if you feel inspired by it, of course.

Either way, thank you for sharing your fics with us. They are my favorites and I’m really grateful for having found your blog.

gif by luchitohamilton

EVERY UNIVERSE.

pairing: (mentor! sebastian vettel x ferrari driver! reader) (charles leclerc x teammate! reader)

summary: qatar is a difficult, hot, and taxing track. that along with you having food poisoning, well…that might not end too well for you. thankfully you can always rely on sebastian and charles to be there for you.

word count: 4k

note: can you guys tell i took inspo from mark webber throwing up in his car and the qatar race this year? it was so sad to watch everyone seem so tired especially lance and logan. anyways, the plot kinda got away from me at the end, i do apologize but the seb feels were too intense 😵‍💫

content warning: car crash, mentions of throwing up, inaccurate depictions of food poisoning

part of this series but can be read without!

“Ready?”

A familiar voice makes you turn around from your pre-race preparations. “Depends on what your definition of ready is.”

Charles smiles, “I know it’s our first race in Qatar but c’mon, it isn’t that bad.”

“Isn’t that bad? I might melt in the car! Doesn’t help that I almost missed this one because of food poisoning.”

“Ah yes, how could I forget that,” he teases. He couldn’t forget it, because you’d been complaining about it endlessly for the past three days. You had food poisoning because Mark Webber invited you to lunch on Thursday, and accidentally gave you something dodgy. You’ve yet to forgive the man. “Well at least you’re starting from P4. Lets you fight for P1, no?”

“Against Lewis and Charles? Please. In my dreams, maybe. Plus, you’re starting P3, asshole.” You retort, turning back around to put your balaclava on. The second it’s on your head, though, it gets pulled off, and you look behind you for the perpetrator. “Charles give it b– SEBASTIAN!”

The Aston Martin driver gives you a grin before hugging you tightly, lifting you off the ground a bit. You didn’t expect to see him before the race, but the surprise was definitely welcome.

“Oh but if it was me I would have gotten scolded,” Charles mutters, but his complaints were left unheard.

“Just came to wish you luck before the race starts. P4! You’re going to get a podium, I’m sure of it,” Sebastian beams, letting you go from the hug.

“That’s what Charles said too. He was more delusionally optimistic, though. Said I was gonna win.”

“Because I believe in you! Is that so bad?” Charles complains from the side, his comment ignored once again.

“Well maybe Charles is right— you could win. Meanwhile I’m starting in the midfield, again.” Sebastian complains, groaning a little bit.

“Oh cheer up Seb, you survived Ferrari for 6 years, you’ll live.”

He lights up a bit at your joke, moving to say something before an Aston Martin mechanic shows up outside the Ferrari garage. He wasn’t allowed inside, but it was obvious he was looking for Sebastian– who also wasn’t allowed inside, yet mysteriously got in. Nothing to do with him being friends with your mechanics of course, yeah, totally not.

“Ah shoot, well it looks like they’re looking for me,” Sebastian sighs. He starts to walk away before he pauses and moves back towards you, “Hey, stay safe, okay? New track, it’s dangerous. I know we’ve done practice and quali but you can never be too careful. Plus, it’s sweltering hot. Hydrate.”

You roll your eyes fondly, “Yes, dad.”

His face scrunches up a little, “Don’t ever call me that again, I’m not that old.”

“You could barely work my Instagram the other day! All I asked was for you to open Lewis’ stories!”

“Psh, whatever. I have to go, see you after the race, yeah?” He asks, giving your arm a quick squeeze. You nod, murmuring a goodbye to him. He wishes Charles good luck too, before saving his engineer from the Ferrari mechanics blocking him.

“So he can pull your balaclava off– which you hate, by the way, let me remind you– but if I even try adjusting your helmet straps so it’s safer you slap me off?” Charles speaks up, making you break eye contact from the Ferrari garage doors.

You roll your eyes at him with a smile, “You have got to forget that. It was one time. And it was a soft slap to the shoulder!”

“The point still stands,” he retorts, making you give up on the conversation.

“Whatever, Charlie. Just get ready for the race. Stay safe, okay?” you say, putting your balaclava on again. He gives you a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving, a sign of good luck between the two of you. It makes you smile a little before you hop into your car.

Okay. Qatar. New track, new conditions, but still the same old you. You could do this.

The lights go off one by one, and you grip the steering wheel with anticipation like you always did. Race starts still made you nervous no matter how long you’d been racing. One light goes off…then the next…then the third…the fourth one follows…and then…

“AND IT’S LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO!”

The first few laps were a breeze, maintaining your position in fourth despite Fernando being on your tail the whole time. You noticed the car was slightly hotter than usual, but decided to ignore it and chalk it up to new changes in the engine.

Around lap 25 you started to feel a bit dizzy and sick during the sharp corners, cursing yourself internally for having such bad timing with the food poisoning. “Charles is 0.200 seconds ahead, feel free to overtake,” your engineer buzzes through the radio.

“Copy,” you reply, not really paying attention, still feeling sick. You overtake Charles with ease around the outside, him not putting up much of a fight because it would have taken both of you out. Now you just had to maintain this position for…dear god, 32 laps.

“Lewis 5 seconds ahead, focus on tire degradation instead.” Your engineer’s warning goes unheard, though, as you noticed the cockpit was getting way too fucking hot.

“The car’s burning up,” you say into your radio, getting only a simple “Copy, we are checking,” back.

“Okay, Y/N there are no problems with your engines, I repeat; no problem.”

What? That’s impossible. You felt like you were melting in there. “Are you sure? Can you ask Charles if his car feels like the sun too?”

“Negative, focus on the race.”

Oh you were going to kill them one day– if they don’t kill you first. A few more laps passed in those horrible conditions before turn 5 rolled around and as you swerved your car, you started to see black spots around your vision.

That can’t be good, you think, having to close your eyes for a second before shaking your head and snapping yourself back into the race. Thankfully Charles had pitted earlier and had a 3 second gap to you. “I don’t feel too well.”

“Copy. Is it the car?”

“Well it’s definitely part of the problem.”

The next few turns were torture, your head bobbing around as you faded in and out of consciousness through the fast corners. Charles was catching up now, and you knew if you didn’t do something soon, he would pass you.

You wanted this podium. You needed it. If you got P3 you would grab P4 on driver standings.

There was a slow corner coming up that was a good overtaking spot, and so you had to defend.

As the turn came around– faster than you expected– the extreme heat of the car, your headache, sweat, food poisoning, and dizziness came together and you suddenly felt light, as if you were flying, before a jolt knocked you out of your consciousness completely.

You were out for less than a minute, but that minute counted for everything. You completely turned into Charles, him having to swerve onto the gravel just so you wouldn’t crash into each other. Your car, however, still had more speed in it, and you were headed towards the wall on the very far side of the gravel.

Thankfully, the rough rocks had shook you awake enough that you were able to swerve away from the wall extremely last minute and only take the tail and back wheel of your car out.

The next few seconds were a blur.

You still felt faint, but could hear a muffled voice headed towards you. You knew the back of your car was completely ruined and you were out of the race, and you put your helmet in your hands in disappointment. You were having such a good run before this happened. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The muffled voice running towards you was closer now, and you registered it to be Charles. He was saying something but you could barely hear him with how your ears were ringing and how the seat of the car was still hot.

The man quickly realized you weren’t hearing him, and opted to come closer and lift your visor up. “Smoke. Car. Get out!”

He didn’t need to tell you twice. You pushed yourself up but barely, Charles having to lift you up by your shoulders. Once out of the car you completely collapsed on the floor, only having your teammate catch you.

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” you say drowsily, still fighting the urge to pass out.

“Safety car is coming, stay with me now,” he replies, tapping your helmet so you stay awake. You were grateful your friend was there with you.

On track, however, Sebastian had just been informed of what went down. “What the fuck? What happened?”

“L/N completely turned into Leclerc. Driver error, push on for P9.”

Sebastian hated how his engineer sounded like a robot reporting a technical statistic. He saw the aftermath of the accident for a split second, and it didn’t look like your car was in good shape. He worries about what shape you were in. “Are they okay?”

“Safety car is coming out for L/N and to crane the car, but other than that they seem fine.”

“Injuries?”

“Please focus on the race, Sebastian.”

“INJURIES!” he shouts into his radio, annoyed. He wouldn’t be able to focus on the race until he knew you were alright.

“Uh…L/N seems to be out of it and on the floor, but they’re okay. They’ll be fine, Seb.” His engineer adds the last statement to reassure the man. He knew you meant a lot to him. Seb nods to himself in the car, carrying on with the race. The faster this finished the faster he could get to you.

The safety car came out and they all slowed down, Sebastian finally being able to take a second long look at the accident. Your car was still there, the smoke coming out of it being extinguished by a personnel. Sebastian thinks he ought to have a word with the Ferrari mechanics after the race. He then notices you, on your knees in the gravel, only being kept up by a driver he can only assume to be Charles. Sebastian thinks that should be him there supporting you, but at the same time he’s glad he wasn’t the one who you nearly crashed into. He couldn’t have it on his consciousness that he could have hit you.

“‘m sorry for ruining your race,” you mumble, still being held up by Charles. The man shakes his head, “It was ruined before that, don’t worry. My engine was acting up.”

You knew he was lying to make you feel better, his engine was completely fine. He was headed for the podium earlier, his first in a while. And you completely botched his chance to get it. The thought makes you sob a little, along with the fact that you ruined your own race.

Crying wasn’t the greatest thing to do, though, as it only made you more lightheaded. Charles notices this and takes your helmet off for you, despite your protests pre-race. You were grateful that he did, though, as the second he took your helmet and balaclava off you felt like you had a breath of fresh air for the first time.

“Better?”

You nod, unable to speak. You still felt dizzy and sick. Charles felt annoyed that the safety personnel were taking so long to get to you, waving them over to walk quicker. Squinting your eyes a little, you find them with some health personnels, and you sink a little lower into the gravel.

“God not again,” you groan, remembering the events that unfolded back in Spa. You did not need to go to the medical tent. As you attempt to get up, however, you fall back down as your vision blurred. Looks like medical tent it is again.

The rest of the race went particularly well. Lewis won the race and Fernando got his first podium since 2014– which you reminded yourself to congratulate him for once you were out of the medical tent– and Seb ended up P9, a position higher than where he started. That would usually be a mediocre result but with his shitty car, you were pretty impressed.

“Water?” A familiar voice makes you look away from the TV screen in the room. Charles sat beside your bed, holding a plastic bottle of water. You nod and take it from him, chugging the cool liquid down.

“Sorry again for ruining your race,” you say as you finish drinking. Charles shakes his head, “Stop apologizing. You passed out, that was no fault of yours.”

“You passed out!?” A loud concerned voice makes both of you snap your head towards the door of the room. Sebastian stood there, still in his race suit like the both of you, a shocked look on his face.

“Is that what happened? You passed out mid race?” He asks again, but this time softer. He walks towards your medical bed– which you insisted you didn’t need– before putting his hand on your forehead to check if you had a fever. The action makes you giggle, but Sebastian had a serious look that shut you up quickly.

He shakes his head with a sigh, “You have a bit of a fever.”

“Any other fun observations?”

Sebastian didn’t seem to be in the mood for your wit, though. “You could have been injured. Just a few meters and you could have fully hit the wall. If you were just a few seconds late waking up you would have–”

He shuts his eyes and stops himself. He didn’t want to think about what could have happened anymore. His voice got wobbly during the end of his statement, making you realize that he was stopping himself from crying. You absentmindedly sit up and reach for his hand, squeezing it gently.

“I’m here, Seb. And I’m fine. Look at me.”

The older driver does, slowly opening his eyes. You squeeze his hand a second time, a soft smile on your lips. “I’m here. And look, I’m completely fine. You’re not getting rid of me that quickly old man.”

Seb lets out a chuckle at that, moving to hug you tightly.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he mumbles into your hair. “Why did you even pass out?”

“I was already a little dizzy before getting in the car because of the heat but I tried ignoring it. The car was overheating too and it made me dehydrated, I think. My drink pouch wasn’t a lot of help either when the water was steaming hot. Plus…” you trail off, not really wanting to talk ill of Webber.

“Mark gave her food poisoning when he took her to lunch,” Charles butted in, making you give him a look. You forgot he was in the room.

“Mark? As in Webber?” Sebastian asks, Charles nodding in response. “The bastard.”

“Oh c’mon Seb, he just wanted to treat me to lunch. It’s not like he poisoned my food on purpose.”

Seb sighs deeply before agreeing, “You’re right. Sorry. I’m just– I don’t know.”

“I get it. I mean, this is my second time at the medical tent in three months. Makes you think how accident prone I am,” you joke. Sebastian laughs, and you’re glad you got the worried look in his face away.

“The one in Spa was completely your fault, but we may have to pin this one on Mark,” Seb teases. You shoot him a grin, “Yeah, we can say that.”

Before you could talk more, though, a PR person from both Ferrari and Aston Martin came in to fetch Charles and Sebastian.

“What about me?” you ask, getting up from your bed. It wasn’t like you were injured or anything, you were just a little sick and had a bit of a stomach ache. You’d already thrown up earlier, so you felt pretty normal now.

“Sorry, we have orders to keep you here.”

You scoff, “Please. What can they do if I walk out?”

Before the Ferrari PR agent could reply, though, you were already out the room. She stands there helpless, making Sebastian and Charles chuckle to each other before following you. You were always stubborn when you wanted to be.

The second you’re out of the medical tent, camera flashes overwhelm your eyes. You walk past them as you always do, but the contrast of the light to the night sky makes you a bit lightheaded again, having to hold Sebastian’s arm for support. He moves your hand from his arm to his own hand, interlocking it with yours and pull you through the crowd. There were no words needed to be said, he always knew what you needed. You’re starting to think he can read minds.

Once past the annoying lot of cameras, you make it to the media pen where at least they pestered you in a more civil way. The interviewers were all over you and Charles, looking for some inside scoop on ‘Ferrari drama.’ Turns out, the media thought you tried to purposely take Charles out a la brocedes style. Because of this you had to clarify to every person you talked to that, “No, I did not try to take Charles out on purpose. I passed out. We’re good. Yes, we’re still friends.”

Once that was all over, you headed over to the Channel 4 area to give a certain someone a piece of your mind. “Mark Webber.”

The man turns around to the mention of his full name, smiling when he notices who it is. “Y/N! Glad you’ve come and joined us! We’re on in about five minutes, we can do a segment about the crash but if you wanna talk about something else on screen that’s fine too, we can–”

“You gave me food poisoning!” you butt in. “I cannot believe you.” His coworkers give him a look, as if they were holding in a laugh at him being scolded.

Mark stands there with his mouth agape, unsure what to say. “Wasn’t that three days ago? Are you sure it’s me?”

Rolling your eyes, you reply, “Yes, I’m sure it’s you. It started three days ago, and guess who I was with when I ate something unusual three days ago? Oh right, it’s you!”

He pauses for a moment before bursting into laughter, trying to cover his mouth to no avail. “Sorry, it’s not funny that you almost crashed, I’m glad you’re safe, but– ha!– I cannot believe it was because of the dodgy Indian food!”

You gave him a shove, trying to act mad, but the smile on your face betrayed you. His laughter was contagious. “You are such an asshole.”

“Awh cheer up,” he gives you a side hug, ruffling your hair a little. “Sorry for giving you food poisoning, mate. I’ll make it up to you, whaddya think about lunch on me tomorrow?”

You escape his side hug when you hear him say that, “Absolutely not! I’m never trusting you again with food recommendations.”

The statement makes him laugh again, and you chuckle along with him. Hard to be mad at someone who didn’t do it on purpose. Sebastian walked over to the two of you, having watched the interaction from afar.

“Look who’s coming over,” Mark mumbled, making you notice Seb trying to pretend to just ‘bump’ into the two of you. “Still competitive ‘till now, eh? Don’t worry, I’m not trying to out-mentor you,” Mark says out loud, grabbing the attention of the German.

Seb tilts his head with a faux oblivious look, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He grabs you by the arm and ‘discreetly’ pulls you over to his side. ‘No idea’ my ass.

The Australian scoffs with a grin, “Whatever you say mate. Listen, I gotta get back because our feed is going live in a few minutes, but you two take care, alright? Nice to see you again Seb.”

“You too, Mark.” Sebastian replies, this time genuinely. While the media knew the two drivers were now on good terms, they didn’t know just how close they had gotten. The two went bowling at least once every two months just to catch up with each other, you being there for half their competitions– yes, they still competed. Apparently that sense of wanting to beat your former teammate does not go away. So far this year, Mark’s been winning.

Before Mark completely walked away, he looked back at you for a second, “Oh, and, I am happy you got out injury free from that nasty crash. Genuinely glad you’re okay. Sorry that my dodgy food contributed to your sickness.”

You wave him off, “It’s fine, Mark. It’s not like you could’ve known I would get food poisoning. Although, next time maybe check online reviews.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he smiled, waving you a goodbye as he ran to his coworkers who were already getting impatient.

You shake your head with a grin, “Well at least that’s over with.”

Sebastian slings his arm around your shoulder, “True. So want to get dinner?”

“Absolutely not. I think I’m done with food for a good while.”

“Well you have to eat something,” he insists, as you both walk through the paddock. “How about we get room service?”

“Eh, it’s late, I don’t really want a repeat of Monaco 2019.”

Monaco 2019 was when you and Seb got room service at 10pm because you didn’t check the time. Safe to say the staff weren’t very happy with that. You both felt so bad while eating that food.

“We can just get McDonalds then,” you suggest.

“McDonalds?” Charles asks, popping out from god knows where.

“Jesus, where the hell were you hiding? The atoms?” You ask.

“I was here the whole time.”

“You were not,” Sebastian comments. Charles simply shrugs, tagging along with the two of you, not caring that he was obviously third wheeling a moment. “So McDonalds?”

You roll your eyes, “Yes, McDonalds. But you’re paying because you’re tagging along.”

“No fair! Sebastian is richer than me!”

You both give Charles a look at the same time. Charles thinks it’s eerie how alike the two of you were.

“Charles,” Sebastian starts, patting the Monegasque’s back with one arm with his other still slung around your shoulders. Your accident made him very clingy, but you weren’t about to tell him that. “Let me phrase this as nicely as I can; you are from Monaco. You are rich.”

Charles lets out a sigh, “Fine. I’ll buy the food.”

You clap, “Fuck yeah! Food on the rich man!”

“We have the same salary in our contracts?”

“Shh, that’s not important,” you say, shushing Charles. “Food on the rich man! Although, we may have to go to the hotel right after and just get take out. I can feel Mark’s Indian food from three days ago still fighting with me.”

Charles is the one to roll his eyes this time, “I’ll get the car so we can get there faster, your highness.”

“Thank you, Lord Perceval.”

“Don’t call me that!” he shouts, already walking away to the parking lot.

That left you and Sebastian alone again, just enjoying the company of one another, walking slowly down the paddocks. There were few people now, most having gone back to their hotels to call it a night.

“You know, I’m glad I found you.”

The words make you look up at the older driver, who you find smiling at you. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean obviously we would find each other, there’s only so many drivers in Formula One. But I mean I’m glad I found you in this life.”

“Do you think we don’t find each other in other lives?”

Sebastian pauses and thinks for a second. He’s thought about the other career paths he could have taken throughout his life– other lives he could have lived. He knows there’s no logical way, but he thinks he still would have found you in those lives. The thought makes him smile to himself.

“No, I think we do.”

“Well then good. Because me too,” you reply, giving him a smile of your own. “Why did you suddenly think about it though?”

Sebastian shrugs, “I don’t know. I just felt suddenly sentimental. Feels like a chapter of my life closed but I’m not sure what or why.”

Little did he know that he would start contemplating retirement a few weeks after that.

“Oh well, it doesn’t matter. Whether we find each other in other lifetimes, I mean.”

Seb raises his eyebrow, him now being the one confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean we’re both here now. Enjoying each other’s company. Why bother thinking about versions of ourselves in other universes when we’ve got each other in this one?”

Sebastian gives you the most genuine, softest smile at that. “I love you, I don’t tell you that enough.”

You scrunch your face, “Ew. Sounds like a love confession. Sorry but you’re too old for me.”

“You know what I mean. I love you but not in that way. That’s just gross,” Sebastian says, hitting your shoulder.

“Relax old man, I’m just teasing,” you giggle, trying to avoid his hit. “Love you too. Ew. Sorry, not great with verbal affection. Pretty sure that just made me throw up a bit, and that’s not even with the help of the food poisoning.”

Sebastian just shakes his head, “Okay c’mon now, Charles will be annoyed with how slow we’re walking.”

Later that night, the three of you watched a cheesy romcom while sharing a shit load of fries and chicken nuggets. As you carried on through the night you thought to yourself that despite the hardships of F1, the crashing, the disappointments, the injuries– it brought you a second family you never thought you’d have. And you wouldn’t trade it for any other universe.

Although, maybe a universe where you didn’t get food poisoning.

[darklordofthesimp]

Anything VIII (König x Reader)

The 8th instalment in the Anything-Verse

Main Masterlist

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

Like the characters? Read their fics below!

Sunshine Masterlist || Saint Masterlist

Series Summary:  A lack of information from the chain of command results in König mistaking you for an enemy sniper.

A/N: No one make any sudden movements. I have returned. Excuse how rusty my writing is.

Category: Angst || Hurt/Comfort || Unrequited Pining || Tension

Warning: Graphic Language

What a sight you must behold. 

Sleepless, stressed and on the verge of your breaking point… again. 

It was no wonder that Saint watched you with deep concern, no wonder that they held their pen like it was a lifeline rather than just stationary. You wanted them to just understand, you needed them to know that you weren’t insane- everything was so elaborately planned and you were just on the verge of unravelling it. 

“Saint,” you rasped, “there are people in on this…. The brass. I think König too. It’s a fuck-fight.” 

The doctor leaned back into their chair, eyes never leaving your jittering figure. The sigh that fell from their lips released none of the tension balled tightly in their shoulders. 

“Birdy…” 

You stood to your feet. You didn’t want to hear it. 

You were sick of hearing people say your name in that tone: placatingly, diminishing your thoughts and dismissing you as if you were the local crazy. 

Maybe you were the local crazy. 

Is that how everybody saw you? Did everybody truly think that you were so off-kilter that you’d hallucinate a coup? You were a victim of assault- not insanity. 

“Stop,” Saint put their pen down firmly on the table, drawing your attention back to the situation at hand. “I’m listening. I’m just a little…  hesitant. It’s a very serious accusation, Birdy, but I’m not doubting the source.” 

You shot the medical officer a knowing glare. “Oh,” you drawled sarcastically, “because everybody takes me seriously at this unit with my history, right?” 

“I don’t give a fuck about whether anybody else takes you seriously,” Saint’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “I take you seriously, Birdy.” 

The room was doused in tension. Your fingers curled to form tight fists, skin stretching over your knuckles until they turned white. You don’t know why you were angry at their declaration, angry at their loyalty. 

Maybe it was because you knew it was misplaced. 

Maybe it was because you knew you’d disappoint. “Yeah,” you sighed softly, relaxing your hands as you turned for the door. “That makes one of us.” 

_______

The walk to training always held some anxiety but this time it was as if you were drowning in it. Each step felt like a death knell and sudden dryness in your mouth made you want to turn back and run to the safety of your room.

You thought that you were well and truly past this. 

Apparently, you couldn’t get past anything. 

As you approached the door you were surprised to hear voices. No one ever wanted to interact with König, let alone at 7 a.m. on a Saturday. The room was always booked for the two of you at this time, interruptions were specifically warned against by Price. 

It’s just a conversation. You took in a deep breath. Not everything required a downward spiral, not all mysteries needed investigation. 

Literally just a fucking conversation. Get a grip. 

You straightened your shoulders as you approached the door and the dialogue became clearer. 

“Birdy will be here soon.” König’s voice was as familiar as your own. “You need to leave.” 

You pulled up short just before the entrance, frozen like a deer in the headlights. There was a short silence before a soft thud echoed throughout the room. It sounded like a hand being clapped over the shoulder but you weren’t sure. Could have been a punch, could have been a really intense kiss, who fucking knew? 

All you knew was that they weren’t meant to be there. Maybe it was Sunshine. 

Although you hated the arrogant fucker, it would relieve you to know it was them. They were inconsequential and, although they were annoying, they wouldn’t be behind your assassination attempt. 

Sunshine would have made sure you were in the ground, no matter the cost. Sunshine would have succeeded. 

Instead, the voice that rattled in your ears wasn’t your fellow coworker. 

“Just be careful. Wouldn’t want to jump the gun, would we?” 

Your blood turned to ice.  

Graves. 

You could almost hear that snake-like grin in his words, you could almost see the look in his eyes that was nothing but predatory. Phillip was charming when he wanted to be, but there was something terrifying about him.

Like a trap lying in wait. 

Like a traitor waiting to strike. 

The sound of sure and steady footsteps snapped you out of your thoughts. Panic flooded your system, kicking your adrenaline into gear. There was nowhere to hide, not even a small nook in this god-forsaken hallway.

As Graves drew closer to discovering your presence, you bounced back a few steps from where you’d been frozen. Throwing your arms above your head as if you were stretching and squinting your eyes with an outrageous yawn was all you could pull together. 

Phillip rounded the corner with a cocky sway that made your heart race. You watched him scan your slowly approaching body, seemingly tired and unaware. You acted surprised to see him, carefully schooling your face to return to the usual lifelessness that it held. 

“Birdy!” Graves said, slowing his pace. With a flash of teeth, the corner of his mouth pulled upward into a knowing smirk. “Good to see you.”

“I bet,” you said monotonously, adding a dismissive nod at the end like a punctuation mark. 

Phillip’s smirk turned into a smile. 

“Enjoy your session,” the man said slowly. As he drew closer you could feel your chest tightening. He smelt fresh like he had just gotten out of a long, hot shower. You hated that he was close enough to smell the fucking body wash on his skin. 

His shoulder brushed yours as he passed by, setting your body alight with fear. You didn’t dare look over your shoulder as you trekked towards the gym door, eyes firm on that handle. His footsteps still echoed along the hallway by the time that you’d reached the entrance. 

“You’re late.” 

König’s voice startled you despite making direct eye contact with him. 

The man looked disgruntled, to say the least. His hair looked like he’d been running his fingers through it over and over, and your guess was confirmed when he roughly raked it over once more. König’s eyes were looking anywhere but yours. 

“I’m not.” You’d meant for those words to have some bite to them but you couldn’t muster up the venom. Not when he looked like that. 

“You are,” he insisted with a snarl. 

You raised your hands up in surrender, eyes narrowing at his hostility. The urge to leave grew tenfold and so did your distrust for the man before you. There were too many things that pointed towards his guilt in planning your assassination. 

The way he’d tried to blow off your concerns, the vehement way he’d shouted for you to drop it, and now, his interaction with Graves. You thought back to your time in the kitchen when Phillip had first encountered you both. 

“Now, who’d have thought that you’d both be so… close.” He had said.

The Shadow had watched with intrigue as König stepped in front of you as if protecting you from him. If you really thought about it, most of his smarminess was aimed at the man beside you, rather than yourself. 

You swallowed and choked on your own spit. It was a distant reminder of when it had been your own blood that you’d coughed on. 

König’s sigh tore you from your spiralling conspiracies. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. His tone was quiet but his eyes were genuine. 

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat. “No, it’s fine. I get shitty when I deal with Graves, too.” 

But why was he with Phillip in the first place? 

You wanted to ask him, everything in you pleaded to seek out the truth. You needed to investigate-, you needed to know. Your mouth opened to get the answers you so desperately desired, but a thought made you stop in your tracks. 

What if you let on that you were suspicious of him? 

It was clear that you were no match against König. Your entire life had become interwoven with his and it felt like he was there in your every waking moment. If he knew that you suspected him, it would only put you in danger again. He’d busted through your bedroom door once and that was enough to tell you that you wouldn’t be safe from him anywhere you went. 

You distantly realized that König was watching you carefully from where he stood, jade eyes analyzing every quirk of your lips and every twitch of your brows. 

“What?” You said, feigning self-consciousness. “Admiring your handiwork?” 

The man shot you a glare and you prayed that was enough to shift his attention. 

“I hate it when you say things like that,” he hissed, pulling his jacket down his arms and throwing it aside. “Seriously.” 

“Yeah, well I hate having a chopping block for a face.” You tilted your head to shoot him a deadpan look over your shoulder. “Seriously.” 

“I cannot deal with you sometimes, Birdy.” König hissed. 

“I can tell,” you jerked your thumb towards your marred features. 

You knew that you were playing with fire. The way the man stood straight, his gaze narrowing and any sense of banter dissipating from his features, made it very clear that it was time for you to stop pushing that particular button. 

“Your attempt at deflecting is not as effective as you may think,” König said, his words slow and deliberate. Jade eyes bore into yours and your breath stuttered in your chest. 

You could lie to him, you could play dumb. He was dangerous and if you tipped him off you would be dead by morning.

You couldn’t make sense of that logic, though. If he wanted you dead, you’d well and truly have been dead by now. Your cheeks stung at the thought… you suppose that there wasn’t a lack of trying. Maybe it really had just been a failed attempt. 

“Birdy,” the soldier said, shooting a glance at the door. “I know what you are thinking and you need to put a stop to it.” 

Those contesting thoughts came to a staggering halt. 

“I don’t even know what I’m thinking,” you snapped. “What would you know?” 

König raised a brow at your tone, opening his mouth to deliver what you would assume to be an infuriating response. The words choked and fell from his tongue, though. There was a huff as he turned on his heel, stalking towards the exit and closing the door. 

You swallowed thickly. 

When he swivelled to look at you it was with a burning gaze that pinned you to where you stood.

“You bring attention to us in ways that will get us killed,” König whispered harshly, his accent was sharp and heavy with each enunciation. “You need to stop.” 

“Stop what?” You waved your hands at him. “You’re so fucking vague.” 

He flinched forward, pushing his finger onto your lips. You smacked his hand away like a cat pawing at something irritating. 

“Would you be quiet?” He snarled through gritted teeth. König took in a deep breath, casting another look at the exit. He was watching the light beneath the door, making sure there were no shadows tipping off an eavesdropper. Why was he suddenly the paranoid one? 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You lowered your tone but the urgency behind it was still present. 

“You need to stop chasing this lead,” König shook his head, gaze imploring. “You need to stop trying to find who planned the accident.” 

Your mouth went dry. 

“Is that a threat?” The words were a true whisper this time. Barely falling from your lips and only as audible as a soft gasp. 

König’s eyes widened. “What?” 

“Are you in on it?” You asked, taking a step backward. 

Bile roiled in your stomach as if mimicking a stormy sea. There was a distinct buzzing in your ears, numbing you to anything but the situation at hand.

“What?” König repeated. “What? No. That is not what I meant by that.” 

You shook your head, “the other day- the way you reacted says otherwise.” 

He reached out for your arm and you wonder if it was to comfort you or to detain you. You finched away from him but this time the man before you didn’t yield. He did not back down and he did not allow you the illusion of control. 

Instead, König held you firmly by your biceps. 

“I need you to listen to me, Birdy. We don’t have time for this back and forth thing that we do every time.” 

Rage tore through your chest at his dismissal and you would have told him as much had he not looked so desperate. Instead, you kept your mouth shut as the man watched you pleadingly. You would let him speak because maybe he had the answers you were searching for, maybe König would be the evidence to prove that these suspicions weren’t delusions. 

The man cast another glance towards the doorway before letting go of your arms. You straightened cautiously, being mindful to not rub at the skin he’d had contact with. 

“Well?” You whispered impatiently, waving a hand at him to continue. “You wanna manhandle me or do you want to talk?” 

“It’s not safe for us to talk here,” König’s words were barely audible. “You need to stop with your head-hunting. Stop asking questions.” 

His eyes were fierce, warning you not to challenge his demands but you couldn’t care less. He, of all people, had no right to be telling you when to chase answers.

He raised a hand before you could speak. “You are going to get us both killed because you gather intel like a child-” 

“What does that even mean?” You interrupted harshly.

“It means you have alerted everyone, Birdy!” König snapped, his voice harsh and his eyes flashing. “Whoever did this knows that you’re onto them. They know that we know.” 

You blinked dumbly, stunned. 

The man glared at you for a long moment, his chest heaving with laden breaths. The silence that eneveloped you both was anything but empty. There was a buzzing in your ears and you weren’t sure if you were relieved or horrified that he’d confirmed your suspicions. Blind rage filled your lungs as if you were drowning. 

“You mother fucker!” You hissed between gritted teeth, shoving at his chest with as much force as you could muster. “You fucking knew?” 

“Of course I knew!” König bit back as he stumbled for his footing. “I’ve been trying to find them and you have been hindering me every fucking step of the way, Birdy.”

You wanted to scream at the top of your lungs, you wanted to bash this man over and over just like he’d done to you. You weren’t insane but he was more than happy to intimidate you into thinking that you were. 

“How could you keep this from me?” Your fingers dug into the skin of his arms as you grabbed him. You wanted to shake the truth from the giant before you, rattle the honesty right from his mouth. “After everything that’s happened!” 

König didn’t so much as wince at your nails in his skin, fury simmered in his eyes like molten jade. “I was your main suspect and you outright told me about your suspicions while you were locked in a room with me, Birdy. What would have happened if I was actually everything you make me out to be?” 

You swallowed thickly, your fingers loosening their grip. 

“I could have killed you right there,” König continued softly, “at this rate you’ll die before you find them.” 

“You said I already tipped everyone off,” you rasped, almost meek in tone. “How have they not come for me yet?” 

The man rolled his shoulders, shooting another paranoid glance at the door. He continued talking as he scanned the room, searching for telltale signs of a third party.

“Everyone thinks you are disabled, Birdy, no one is taking your concerns seriously.” König straightened, levelling you with an evaluative glare. “But I knew better.” 

You drew in a deep breath, holding it in for a few moments before releasing just like Saint had taught you. Your heart squeezed in your chest at the thought of your therapist. You told them everything- König was right. You’d mouthed off your suspicions knowing that Saint and Price were close. What if Saint had told Price? Then Price would have told Shephard and Simon and then- God. 

You’re so fucking stupid. 

Of course everyone knew, you’d practically blasted it across the unit’s P.A system. 

“What now?” You managed to croak. “What do we do now?” 

König frowned at you, his body falling still. “We?” 

“You’re not leaving me out of this,” you ground out. 

“We are not doing anything together,” he said, eyes roaming over your features quizzically. Your heart lurched desperately, there was no way you’d let him do this without you. You deserved to be a part of this, you deserved to get your justice and whoever did this deserved to die.

“You owe it to me!” You nearly raised your voice, fear trickling down the expanse of your spine. Not a fear of the man before you, but this time it was a fear of being left behind. Left to paranoia, left alone with your thoughts and suspicions and no one to hear them. 

König shook his head, “we cannot work together.” 

“We have to!” 

“We can’t!” 

Your eyes were wide and your chest was heaving as the man before you gripped your shoulders. He lowered down to a knee, drawing close enough that you were only a breath apart. You opened your mouth to offer a shaky response but the way his gaze ran over your features stole the words straight from your tongue. 

“I will not risk your safety again, Birdy.” König’s words brushed against your lips, warm but sorrowful. “That is what I owe to you.”