#thought that username looked familiar... looked it up and-

[noirscript]

Notify Me When You’re Mine

pairing: kpop idol x reader

description: K-pop idol Seo Jihwan crosses the line between admiration and obsession when a devoted fan catches his eye—and dares to look away.

warning/s: Yandere behavior, stalking, obsession, emotional manipulation, kidnapping, confinement, unhealthy relationship dynamics.

note: just a quick something. hope you enjoy this! i've been busy with irl stuff so apologies! tags will be added tomorrow as well as other links.

by the way, you can still reserve your copy of sovereign's reign ebook + its freebies until 30th of June! the freebies will no longer be available when regular purchase starts rolling. (w/c includes something from king callixto's pov).

Masterlist | Commission | Tip Jar

You were just one of millions. Or so you told yourself.

Each time Seo Jihwan went live, your name would pop up in the chat box like it always did—early, dedicated, and filled with praise or playful teasing that seemed to go unnoticed among the flood of hearts and comments. Yet somehow, that never discouraged you. You were just a blip in his world, after all. A mere fan among millions.

Still, it didn’t stop you from showing up.

Every livestream, you’d prepare your space. Light off. Phone fully charged. Notifications muted except for one: his. You didn’t even have to wait for the bell anymore. The moment his familiar face popped onto your screen, dark eyes crinkling with a soft smile, your world felt quieter—lighter.

You’d send him stickers, those virtual gifts that cost embarrassingly real money, and his eyes would always flicker when he saw your username float up the screen. But you thought nothing of it. Fans lived for scraps. It wasn’t unusual to want to feel seen, even if you weren’t. Not really.

Then, one day, you did something stupid.

You shared a post—a single image—of another idol. Not even Jihwan’s rival or anything. Just a new guy from a rising rookie group. You thought the picture was funny. The idol was pulling some weird face mid-performance. You reblogged it and added a laughing emoji. That was it.

What you didn’t know was that Jihwan saw it.

You didn’t know that he wasn’t like the others.

━━━ ✦ ━━━

The livestream that followed felt… off.

His smile was forced, stretched too tight across his flawless face. The comments scrolled, and he barely read them. His fans—your community—were worried. He waved it off, saying he was tired, had been overworked, that his company finally granted him a break. A few days off. A chance to recharge.

"Maybe I’ll travel a bit," he murmured, eyes no longer focused on the camera. "Need to clear my head."

You typed something sweet. Something supportive. You even sent him a gift. It didn’t float on screen like usual.

You thought the app bugged out.

But it didn’t.

He had seen your username. Ignored it.

For the first time since following him, you logged off early, feeling cold in your chest and oddly hollow.

━━━ ✦ ━━━

A week passed.

No livestreams. No updates. Just a single headline from his agency, translated into your feed: “Seo Jihwan to Take Personal Time: Travel Abroad for Mental Recovery”.

The comments were flooded with love and concern. You sent your own too, wishing him rest. He didn’t reply, but that wasn’t new.

You returned to your routines. Your normal, quiet life. A place where your feet were always on the ground, unlike him. Unlike Jihwan, who floated above the world, too perfect to be real. You went to work. Came home. Grocery-shopped on Wednesdays. You still scrolled through fan accounts, watched old clips of his stage performances. Laughed quietly at old edits.

Then you started feeling it. That sense of something watching you. But never directly. You’d see a man standing just beyond the corner of your eye when walking home. A dark car idling longer than usual across the street. A buzz in your phone with no notification. Silly things. Maybe your mind was tired. Maybe you were reading too much into nothing.

Until he showed up.

━━━ ✦ ━━━

It was raining.

The sound of water drummed softly against the windows of the café you always visited after work. It was small, quiet, tucked beside a bookstore. Your safe space. The barista knew your name, your usual order.

You were sipping from your mug, scrolling absentmindedly through your phone, when the door opened. A figure stepped in, hood drawn, head tilted slightly downward.

You wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t stopped beside your table.

"You're always here around this time."

You looked up.

At first, your brain didn’t register what you were seeing. It couldn’t. Your eyes scanned the familiar jawline, the deep-set eyes, the soft lips that had smiled at millions.

Seo Jihwan.

The man on your screen. The idol.

In real life.

Soaking wet from the rain, yet still breathtaking.

"Sorry, I know this is weird," he said, voice low but gentle. "Can I sit?"

You blinked. You must have said yes, because the next moment he was sliding into the chair across from you, pulling back his hood.

He looked exactly the same as his photos—no, better. There was no angle to hide behind here, no filter. He was raw and real and right in front of you. You couldn’t even breathe.

“I needed a break,” he said, sipping the drink he ordered as if this were any other conversation. “Came to clear my head. But really, I just wanted to meet you.”

Your heart thudded once—then faster.

“You… you know me?” you whispered.

His lips curled slightly. “Of course. I waited for your messages every time I went live. You always sent those silly stickers. The bread one. And that weird cat.”

You wanted to laugh. Or cry. Or both.

“But I noticed something,” he continued, voice calm but eyes sharper now. “You reblogged another idol’s picture.”

You froze.

“I know it’s stupid. Petty. I should be used to fans looking at other idols. It’s normal,” he murmured. “But you… you’re not just another fan, are you?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no sound came.

He leaned forward.

“You belong to me.”

Your breath hitched.

“I thought maybe you didn’t know that yet. That I’d need to show you.”

━━━ ✦ ━━━

He moved fast.

Faster than you thought possible.

You weren’t even sure how it happened, but within hours, he had swept you into his world. Into a rented flat that looked more like a luxury safehouse. He gave you clean clothes. Made you tea. Held your hand like he’d known you forever.

He smiled when you asked how he found you.

“Do you really think it was hard?” he replied, almost amused. “You use the same username everywhere. You never log off. You have a routine. A pattern. You don’t even lock your accounts.”

It should’ve scared you. Maybe it did. But he was Jihwan. The man you spent countless nights watching, wishing, longing for.

And now he was here. Holding you like you mattered.

When he kissed your forehead, your brain short-circuited.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he whispered. “Me, here. With you. You’ve been calling out for me. I just answered.”

━━━ ✦ ━━━

Days passed. Maybe weeks.

Time blurred inside the glass walls of the apartment. You didn’t leave. He didn’t let you. Not out of cruelty, no—he said it was for your safety. That fans could be obsessive. That people might not understand. That the media would twist it all.

You believed him. You had to.

And he was so gentle.

He cooked for you. Taught you Korean words softly, patiently. Let you sleep in his arms. There were moments he looked at you like you were fragile glass. His fingers would tremble when he touched your face.

But there were also moments when he would grow distant. Cold.

Like when you accidentally glanced at a variety show playing on the TV and chuckled at another idol’s joke.

The screen went dark instantly.

His jaw clenched.

You didn’t watch TV after that.

━━━ ✦ ━━━

One night, he came home with a new phone.

“Here,” he said, setting it in your lap. “Your old one’s gone.”

You blinked. “Gone?”

“I threw it out,” he said. “Too many distractions. Too many temptations.”

Your hands tightened around the blanket on your lap.

He cupped your face, gentle but firm.

“I love you,” he whispered, forehead pressed to yours. “I chose you. You should feel special. Millions of people scream my name, but it’s your name I waited for every night. You kept me going.”

You wanted to believe him.

So you nodded.

━━━ ✦ ━━━

Eventually, the sky turned grey more often. The city blurred beyond the windows. You forgot the date. He kept you fed, clothed, warm. But he also kept you quiet. Isolated.

Your friends stopped messaging.

Or maybe they didn’t. Maybe you just never saw it.

“People are selfish,” he said once, brushing your hair back as you sat in his lap. “They’d pull you away from me. Make you doubt what we have.”

You didn’t answer.

He tilted your face up, made you look at him.

“You love me, don’t you?”

“…Yes.”

“Then remember your place,” he whispered. “You’re mine. You always were.”

━━━ ✦ ━━━

Sometimes, you’d lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling. Wondering how it happened. How you ended up here. How a reblogged photo turned into a new life.

But when he curled around you, arms tightening like chains, breath warm against your skin—you felt something calm your chest.

Because wasn’t this what you wanted?

To be loved. Chosen.

Maybe you just hadn’t realized what it would cost.

Or how far he’d go.

But he came for you. Out of everyone, he came for you.

It was a dream come true.

Wasn’t it?

Maybe if you remind yourself hard enough, you’ll remember to be grateful.

Maybe if you never look at another idol again, he’ll smile like he used to.

Maybe if you behave, he won’t have to show you your place again.

After all… he’s watching.

He always was.

[gristol-liker]

HI HI- just want to tell ya.

I fucking love your Truman/gristol fics a lot.

It was the first ones that I read when I was trying to feed myself with gristol content.

I want to draw fanart of it for a while now [I still am when I can]

You fucking cool as hell bro

- chulipexe

Aw, thank you! 🥰 It means a lot to me to hear this!

I am super excited to see your art. I hope you continue to enjoy my fics (more will come eventually).

[webism]

pornstar!choso has a curated look that throws off a lot of his costars. strong build, straight-set face, hands made to choke and tear… most of those he film with don’t expect to be doted on the entire time.

people joke that pornstar!choso falls a little bit in love with every costar he fucks or gets fucked by. that glossy look that always pulls at his face by the time a scene ends, how his lip trembles with a need to be kissed raw when he cums. he says it's just the bliss of his orgasm—that he gets emotional in the moment, but it doesn't mean anything. well, until he meets you.

pornstar!choso who looks you up before his shoot because your name sounded vaguely familiar when it left his agents lips. he could have sworn you'd fucked before, because when he rolls the syllables of your name on his tongue they're nostalgic and taste like the sweat and laboured breaths of a long night between satin sheets. had you shot a scene together before? or had it been a one night stand?

pornstar!choso who realises that no, he hadn't slept with you before. but the familiarity of your name isn't a coincidence—he's fucked his fist to your videos more times than he can count. your name hits him like lightning, he had typed it into his search bar late in the night, cock hard and in need of instant relief. it's almost scary how well he knows you, what sounds you make when you get close to cumming, how you often arch your back and try to run from the overwhelming pleasure, how your eyebrows knit together when you're feeling so good it almost hurts.

pornstar!choso who realises with a now-red face that you probably don't have a clue who he is, and yet he's cum in time with you for months now. he's pretty sure he's drained his wallet at least twice on your cam shows... what if you recognise his name and piece it together with his username that he donates under? he debates cancelling the shoot, faking covid to get some time at home to hate himself endlessly.

but pornstar!choso realises that this is his chance to get to know how you really feel. he's imagined it so many times, as he fucked fake pussies or his closed fist using spit or his own cum as lube. you'd be warmer, undoubtedly tighter... so much prettier. and he wants to know more: would you prefer to take control and turn him into the toys he so often pretends are you? would you lay back all pretty and let him ruin you on his cock? how deep could you take him he knows he's big but you seem so eager, would you take him to the base with ease or would he have to force it in? bully your pretty pussy until it stretches to his shape?

pornstar!choso who hates the fact that your first, and possibly only, time together would be in front of a production crew and under the unsympathetic lights of a porn set. but he'd fuck on a stage in front of thousands if it means a taste of you.

pornstar!choso who makes it to the shoot before you do, comes ten minutes early to settle his anxieties and get a feel for the scene ahead. the director tells him its a simple shoot, that choso is meant to let you ride him for a while until you pull off and suck his cock for a nice close-up facial shot. the way the director speaks so clinically about sex with you makes choso grimace, he feels pathetic for feeling like this. like he'll be a changed man after feeling you around his cock, which is already painfully hard.

pornstar!choso who hates himself for stumbling over his words when he meets you. he wishes he had never looked you up, though he doesn't doubt seeing your pretty face like this would have wrecked his confidence regardless. you're kind, greet him with a shy smile as if he isn't about to slip balls deep inside of you.

pornstar!choso who, once he has you sitting on top of him on that bed—cameras pointed dutifully as you start to play your role and hike your skirt up so you can sink down on his cock—he can't handle the thought of fucking you like it's nothing, like it's not been the crux of his fantasies in the dark hours at night.

pornstar!choso who, probably to the detriment of his career, pushes you backwards onto the bed and connects his lips to yours in a kiss that surpasses every single fantasy he's had in his mind. you taste good, and he wants more. he speaks against your lips, asks whines a question that makes your stomach coil. 'can i eat you out first? please?'

pornstar!choso who is chided by the production team as he gets his head under your skirt and laps at your pussy in the most desperate act of need he thinks he's ever displayed. those that claim he falls in love with each shoot would be wholly correct in this case: he is in love with the taste of you, with the way your legs trap him in and ask for more. he could eat you for hours, run his tongue from your clit to dip it inside of you in reverence of the goddess he believes you to be. and you laugh at the absurdity of his hunger, at the courage it takes to run off script, and the pure need in which he eats you out.

pornstar!choso who only stops once the director threatens to cut the scene entirely. his cock hurts with how hard it is though, and he thinks the redirection of blood has made him lightheaded, because when he's made to sit back and let you sink down onto his length he swears he meets god.

pornstar!choso who can't help his whines as you ride him, an addiction already laying down roots in his brain. he has to try and think of anything less godly than you to hold on to his orgasm though, because the combination of your body and having subconsciously trained himself to associate you with climaxing is all too strong, and he's a hairs breadth away from cumming prematurely and ruining the scene.

pornstar!choso who realises as you continue, however, that your moans arent the same as he's heard them before, though the speakers of his phone. you're more breathy with him, your moans are less honeyed, more raw—as if coming from your chest rather than your throat. he wonders for a moment if he's not good enough, if you're having to fake your pleasure to save face for the cameras. but you're soaked, and even above the sounds of your shared pleasure he can still hear the squelch of his cock rutting in and out of you.

but before pornstar!choso can question himself further, your eyes are widening and you're latching a hand onto his throat as your pace increases. he can feel the way you tighten impossibly around him, the way your hips stutter and your pupils blow out with lust—you're cumming. and of course he remembers his instructions, to let you climb off of him and take his load over your face... but you're not climbing off of him.

pornstar!choso who understands the pointed look you manage to give him, that it's your turn to bypass the scene direction. you want to be greedy, to feel him finish inside of you, even through the confines of a condom. your moans arent fake, they're the first real ones you've let sound on a porn set—and choso is pulling them from your lungs like a choir's conductor.

pornstar!choso who can't last a minute longer, now with the way you lean in and coax him to climax with your voice, the soft praise that leaves your lips is an aphrodisiac and all too powerful. he sees stars when he cums, full blown galaxies too complex to imagine. call it an out-of-body experience or not, but choso is lost in his orgasm for long enough to warrant you bringing him back down with a soft kiss to his lips. he looks sinful: his hairs come loose, messy and stuck to his forehead. his eyes, though, are what's going to be the subject of a few screenshots taken by his fans: he looks totally infatuated.

pornstar!choso who, after taking a few minutes to settle himself after the shoot, watches as you walk over to him, a very pretty smile pulling at the corner of your lips before you lean down and peck his lips goodbye. he assumes it's the last he'll see of you, that there's no way he's worthy of every tasting you again. that night, he's scared to brush his teeth, to lose the way you linger on his tongue.

pornstar!choso who debates fucking his fist to the memory of you in bed that night. he thinks you've ruined masturbation for him, or sex in general: nothing could quite be the same. and as if its a sign from god that he's done enough good in his life to deserve some positive karma, his phone dings.

a photo of you, a pretty vibrator laid over your stomach. your laptop open in the background, his porn playing on the screen.

attached, a message that makes the poor boy cum in his pyjama bottoms. 'lets meet up again. i want to tie you up and film how stupid you get with a vibe strapped to your cock—a movie just for us, though. no audience.'

pt 2 in the works :p

[divinedomainn]

Stream and Scream | reader x multiple men

play previous song? || ◁ PART 2 ▷ || play next song?

summary : Your inbox has turned into a horny battlefield—six familiar usernames, six neck-down thirst traps, all hard and very, very eager.

No faces. Just bodies. Dicks. Bold lighting choices. Questionable bedsheets.

You sit cross-legged in your underwear like you’re judging Olympic figure skating, except everyone’s naked and begging to be picked.

Time to start scoring.

contains : camgirl!reader x a whole ass roster, rotating cast, university AU, smut, porn with kinda a crack plot, casual sex, anonymous sex, exhibitionism, recording, oral sex, piv sex, rough kinky sex, everyone wants to fuck reader, horny simp men, sukuna being sukuna, reader being willfully ignorant for her own sanity.

A/N : time to make your first choice for the first week by voting in the poll at the end, i'll be doing this all in descending order based on who was the most voted to the least - so vote well >:) goodluck reader ! (i wonder who the mystery man could POSSIBLY be)

You sat back for a few hours, letting it really settle in for yourself and your viewers. You had hundreds of messages and you hadn’t even finished scrolling through the first wave of submissions when the familiar usernames started sliding into your inbox—like wolves answering the call. And it was obvious, immediately, which messages you were actually going to open.

These weren’t just horny randos with messy lighting and desperate angles.

These were your regulars.

The six you already knew by username. The six who tipped with the intensity of men bidding for real estate inside your body. And now they were showing themselves to you. You hoped to whatever deity was listening that these guys were hot with huge cocks. What? It was fun to be a little superficial sometimes. First up:

EmoWithaBoner.

His message was soft-spoken, despite the picture attached being the exact opposite of that, just like always. No emojis. No bravado.

“Didn’t know how to pose,” it read. “But I thought about how you’d look on top of me, and it kind of just happened.”

It was soft, unfiltered, and a little shaky. The photo was reflected from his mirror and showed him stretched out across gray sheets, pale skin dusted with faint freckles. He looked like he went to the gym often with how built he was. Narrow hips. His cock sat flushed against his stomach, long and lean—at least seven inches, maybe more—and wait.. was that? You looked closer towards the image, inspecting it like you were trying to solve a case. Yep. It was pierced at the frenulum with a delicate curved barbell. A glint of silver. Great heavens. Saved.

TempleOfSin.

His body was art. Broad chest, warm tan skin like satin, sculpted muscle that looked carved. His torso was tapered, lean and strong, with a small trail of black hair leading down to a thick, curved cock—seven inches minimum, hand loosely resting at the base like he was showing it off without trying too hard. He was neatly trimmed. It looked like there was a bunch of robes beside him haphazardly taken off for the photo. “Consider this a formal offering,” the message read. “You could worship every inch of me truly, my loyal little follower.” Odd as always, but hot. Saved. You could hear your prayers being answered, two down and so far all was good - in fact, perfect. You were surprised these were the guys paying you, and for a second or two you felt like you should be paying them for the photos.

SixEyesOnly’s submission hit next—and of course, it came with a $500 tip before you even clicked on the message. The sight that hit your eyes made you choke a little on your own spit. 

Of course he sent multiple angles—three, actually. You picked your favorite: a half-reclined shot on luxurious navy bedding, torso lit with just the right amount of golden light. He was toned, lean muscle over abnormally long limbs, subtle abs. A soft trail of white hair led down to a perfectly girthy cock, mid-stroke—maybe just under eight inches, thick enough to stretch you open. His other hand was holding a handwritten sign: “Good enough for you?” “Oh, SixEyesOnly, absolutely.” You spoke to yourself whilst your eyes remained glued to your laptop screen. Saved. Then—unsurprisingly unhinged—daddyissuez.

“i jerked off right before i took this and got hard again just thinking about fucking you.”

And the photo… Jesus. The photo was taken in low lighting, like a scene from a noir porno. He was sitting wide-legged on a leather couch that looked like it needed replacing, legs thick and powerful, thighs dusted with black hair. His chest was solid, scars faintly visible across his abs and ribs. You closed your eyes for a second and tilted your head up to your ceiling in a silent ‘thank you’ before looking back down at the image. His cock was huge, just like the rest of him. Probably just shy of nine inches, you couldn’t keep your eyes off it. Balls heavy. Tip already glossy with precum. One hand gripped the base. The other rested lazily on his thigh like he was used to being admired. With a cock like that you couldn’t blame him. Saved. OfficeAfterHours was, predictably, meticulous. His message read like an email you’d get from someone managing your retirement plan, if that person also wanted to bend you over a desk.

“Apologies for the delay. Here’s my formal submission. Discretion guaranteed. Let me know if you'd like a second angle.”

Shot in high-resolution against crisp black sheets, his body was a symphony of intention. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, abs that looked like they’d been sculpted from marble. Not huge, but built like someone who took care of himself for discipline, not vanity. A thin trail of blonde hair led down to a cock that was gorgeous—perfect shape, thick but not excessive, probably seven inches on the dot, with veins that begged for attention. Trimmed. Clean. You could almost imagine his voice saying something like, “Breathe through it, sweetheart. You’re doing so well.” A weird sound came out of your mouth in excitement from your own fantasy. Saved.

You were already overstimulated and halfway folded into your sheets when the final message hit.

KingOfRot.

You hovered over it for a second like it might bite. Which was ironic, considering he probably would. He was always the most feral in chat—filthy, relentless, tipping like his wallet had a death wish.

You clicked.

Instant regret. Instant need.

The photo looked like it had been taken during a crime.

Bathroom mirror. Harsh yellow light. Shirt pushed up to his collarbones, muscles tensed like he’d been fucking someone just before he snapped the photo. Chest broad. Arms thick. Veins roped down to his forearms. Stomach lined with clean muscle. Ink everywhere—heavy black bands around his biceps, tattoos sharp and ceremonial-looking across his chest and stomach like a ritual.

And then his cock.

You actually flinched at the offensive monster staring right back at you through the screen. Long. Thick. Too thick. Heavy. Veins running down the shaft like it had a pulse, flushed red like it had been hard for too long. The kind of cock you’d have to apologize to your body after taking. You didn’t even want to hazard a guess at the size.

He wasn’t even touching it. It was just there holding its own weight up like a pole rather than a piece of actual flesh. 

But what got you, what really made your stomach drop, was the tattoos.

They were familiar.

You’d seen them before.

There was a guy on campus—tall, smug, terrifyingly hot in the way that sent your libido into a frenzy—who had tattoos just like that. You’d seen him walking out of the athletics building once, sweatpants slung low and his shirt mysteriously missing, laughing like he knew every secret in the world. He had loudly shouted “What!?” at you when you had stared for a little longer than needed. Embarrassingly seared into your memory for that exact reason.

You squinted.

“Nope,” you muttered. “No. Not connecting the dots. That’s above my pay grade.” Surely it couldn’t be the same guy, right? The tattoos were probably, like, one of those trends that everyone was getting. That's what you were telling yourself at least.

You were about to save the photo when you finally looked at the caption.

“Pick me. I’ll fuck you so hard your ancestors will feel it. You’ll be a fucking shrine by the time I’m done.” Was that a death threat? Probably. Should you block him? Probably. “Ancestors. Okaaaaay.” You nodded your head slowly as if he was across from you saying it with a gun pointing at you. 

And then you saved it. Of course you did. Then flopped onto your back, one arm flung over your face, trying to mentally prepare for the chaos you had just invited into your life. All at the right price of course. “Thank you to whoever is listening for blessing me with viewers that are hotter than the guys I have wilfully hooked up with for free.” You spoke to your ceiling, a common theme nowadays. Seven men. Seven bodies. Seven chances to let your subscribers watch you get absolutely wrecked on camera.

Your legs were trembling from what you decided was mostly horniness.. and a little bit of fear for your own pussy by the time you shut your laptop fully. Friday couldn't come soon enough.

Now, the real question was - who would you choose first?

taglist : @syubseokie @frozenmallows @90s-belladonna @moncher-ire @kunareads @blublublubby @grignardsreagent @soozeu @mochiivqi @sweetsformysoul @killak9mi @celloccino @gurlhere4fluff @gorouenjoyer @linaaeatsfamilies @lov3-ly @des-todoroki @aiicpansion @lazylunarlover @kentoslvr @cherry-berry-21 @cure-alexandrite @yourname-exee @pinkyogoart @sillymortalblob @kyvyes @xxxieli @swoozleee @augustineyukimura @uniquecutie-puff @ayepitita @luna-v-roiya @kill-your-darling274 @babiestarrcandy @b3bybunny @midnightwriter21 @miizuzu

[kingkaisen]

— 彡 OBSESSION — TEN FORBIDDEN DESIRES EVENT

ROCKSTAR! EREN YEAGER stared into his propped-up phone camera from where he sat at his kitchen table, his emerald eyes scanning through the uncountable amount of comments rolling into his Instagram livestream.

Most of them were quite repetitive, just different variations of: ‘Eren, come to Brazil!’, ‘I love you so much!’ or ‘Next tour is when?’

He absentmindedly tugged on the strings of his black hoodie.

“My favorite color?” Eren read one of the comments aloud. “Red.”

“Can you say happy birthday to Emily?” He read. “Happy birthday Emily. Have a great one.”

The bored man continued on and on, answering questions and occasionally promoting his new rock album, which was why his managers forced him to livestream in the first place.

He, however, didn’t give a damn about promotions. Not when you happened to be on the other side of the house, watching your favorite comfort show in his bedroom.

He wanted to be with you — you, you, you. Not sitting in his kitchen, trying to boost his sales to an audience who, for the most part, cared more about his face and body rather than the chords he strung on his electric guitar.

A familiar username caught Eren’s eye. In an instant, it vanished as a wave of fresh comments rolled in, but he reached for his phone and scrolled up until his eyes landed on Connie’s username.

conmanspringer: booooo where’s your girl? we don’t wanna see you booooo

“Damn it, Connie, I could kick your ass. Please go lay down in traffic.” Eren grinned playfully at his phone. “Does anyone know how to make Connie vanish?”

Truth be told, he was happy someone asked about you no matter the reason. In fact, it sparked a new hot topic for his viewers, who all left comments asking about your whereabouts.

“She’s upstairs. She’s watching the new season of that Netflix show . . . damn, what’s it called?” Eren thought about it for a second, but when you were telling him about the show several weeks ago, well, you were coming out of the bathroom after a hot shower, and he was a little distracted.

He'd never forgive himself for forgetting the name of the show you were watching. Why would he? He was supposed to know everything about you, and he truly did, everything from your grandmother's middle name to which shoe you preferred to put on first. Some details you shared with him, but most of what he knew about you, his sweet lover, came from months of thorough "research," as he'd call it. So how . . . just how . . . could he let himself forget the show you were watching?

conmanspringer: me personally? i would’ve remembered the show if she told me

“Go to hell, Connie. She’s mine,” Eren snapped. He grabbed his phone, taking it — and, thus, his viewers — with him as he made his way to the bedroom.

Eren opened the door, his tone softening as he addressed you. “Baby? Wanna say hi to everyone?”

Oh, his fans would certainly run to social media to talk about the way Eren’s eyes were glossed over with pure love as he looked at you; the way his lips were slightly upturned from merely being in your presence.

“Sure,” you said, grabbing the remote and pausing your show.

Eren approached the side of the bed. He placed his hand on your back, indicating for you to scoot away from the headboard, and when you did, he positioned himself behind you, in between the headboard and your back. With you now lying against his chest and right in between his legs, he gave you his phone.

“Hi everyone,” you waved.

The comments were a mixture of compliments and questions from Eren’s fans, but his friends as well.

arminarlert: You look beautiful today :)

“Thank you, Armin,” you said with a grin.

Eren didn’t know if his best friend was up to something, or if he was simply being nice. Eren rubbed his hand along your thigh, grateful that his camera could only capture you and him from the chest up. That realization? Well, he was going to take advantage of it.

If you accidentally flipped the camera around, you both would have been screwed. But as he read the complimentary comments flooding in over your appearance, he couldn’t help himself, as if he was a man possessed by his raging feelings rather than logic.

conmanspringer: if you and eren don’t work out, im richer and taller than him btw

jeankirsteinmusic: Connie’s a liar, but funnily enough I actually AM taller haha

Eren moved his hand down your shorts. He pushed the soft fabric of your panties to the side. He couldn’t express his true anger. Not while he was on camera. All he could do was remind himself that you belonged to him.

Eren’s fingers found your clit. He toyed with it, all the while repeating in his head: “She’s mine. She belongs to me. This body belongs to me.”

You started to squirm. Eren was quick to move one of his legs on top of yours, holding you still.

“You’re all mine,” he thought. “All fucking mine.”

“Guys, um, I-I think I’m gonna end this live for Eren,” you stammered out, fighting to hold back a moan.

“Don’t you dare,” Eren said darkly. “Hasn’t been long enough, and everyone wanted to see you, baby.”

He swirled his finger around your clit. His dick was starting to harden. Pressing his lips against your ear, he whispered low enough for only you to hear, “I’m gonna have to eat you out later.”

The phone was starting to tremble in your grasp. You were close. He could feel your body tense up, and he quickened the pace in which he rubbed your clit.

The majority of the comments wanted to know just what Eren had whispered. At least, that was what you gathered from Eren’s little responses as he proceeded to engage with his audience as if you weren’t on the brink of an orgasm.

A comment from a fan caught Eren’s attention:

I want Eren’s girlfriend so fucking bad

That was his final straw. He snatched the phone from you with the hand that wasn’t rubbing your pussy.

“On second thought, I’m ending the live. I gotta fuck my girlfriend now, so bye.”

If your orgasm didn’t wash over you the very second he finished speaking, you would have shouted in shock. Just what was he thinking?

But, as Eren ended the livestream and tossed his phone to the other end of the bed, he clasped his hand around your neck and jaw, raising your head slightly as he sucked on your neck. He rubbed your clit more ferociously as you thrashed around from your orgasm.

Eren released your neck. He brought his lips to your ear once again. “You belong to me, don’t you? Say it.”

“I belong to- ah!”

You suddenly jumped as Eren ran his tongue across your ear.

“Couldn’t bring yourself to say it?” He mumbled. “You must really want one of those other damn fools, then huh?”

“No!” You inhaled sharply as Eren pushed two fingers into your hole.

“All the songs I’ve written about you . . . all the times I’ve made you cum over and over again . . . all the money I’ve spent spoiling you, and this is how you repay me? Can’t even tell me you belong to me? Can’t tell me you’ll stay with me forever? Do I gotta lock you up or something?”

“I’m yours, Eren. I’m yours. Please don’t stop.”

Despite your desperate plea, Eren pulled his fingers out of your pants. He moved away from his previous position behind you, walked toward the end of the bed, grabbed your ankle, and yanked you down.

“You don’t tell me what to do. Besides, I’m not convinced you believe your own words.” He stared down at you with a dark gaze as he unbuckled his belt. “I’ll make you believe it, though. I’ll show you that you’re mine, baby. Hell, I’ll show everyone. I don’t care if I have to fuck you right on stage during my next show . . . you’re mine, and everyone needs to know that. You’re mine.”

— 彡: @merakidoll @priv-rose @keriaonmarz @notgoodforlife @2n1ghts @levisfavoriteteashop @insomniacbehaivour @iwanttohitmyself @ellaumbrella1 @lil-apple-pie @prettypixigrl @crazychaoticizzy @averysmolbear @filhadaanarquia @blackdxggr @jaegergirl @gunslxtz @koikohib @thequeenofcurses

[mafiadad5]

cyber sex || Lee haechan

ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ now playing- cyber sex: doja cat

ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ Audioguy!haechan x fem!reader

ִ࣪𖤐.ᐟ Genre/ warnings: smut, college au, 18+ mdni!, needy sub haechan/ soft dom reader, cyber sex, unprotected sex, praising, auralism, creampie ig?, oral (fem receiving), marking (if you squint), begging. Kinda nerdy looking haechan… Lmk if I miss anything.

ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ Wc- 8.2k

authors note- omg… lmk what you think guys. Part 2 maybe I have some ideas…👀. No proof read cus lol. I hope you enjoy! <3

════════════════════��═════

One day your friend joked to you and told you about these corny little audio guys that were on sound cloud. You were captivated to say the least, and curiosity filled your brain so that night you found yourself on sound cloud searching. Most of them were very laughable like your friend suggested, but then you came across this one profile. 

"hcillusion119." You muttered out loud, biting your lip in curiosity as you clicked on the profile. 

The first thing you noticed was instead of one of those anime boy banner things, it was just black with his username splat in the center. Ok, so far so good. The next thing that you noticed was how the profile description were just the words: "just listen, you won't regret ;)" 

You giggled to yourself from how full of himself this guy was, so you decided to listen to an audio, expecting to laugh just like the other times, but this one was different. His voice wasn't what you had expected, it was whiny, but not in a high-pitched, irritating way. There was something desperate in the way he guided the listener through every step, an intensity that hooked you in. You had to admit, this was nothing like what you heard previously.

After the first audio you thought you would be done with it, but it kept creeping on your mind, causing you to go back to the one you were most familiar with, but after a while you started exploring his other audios and soon found yourself subscribed. No one knew you were into this, and you were too embarrassed to even play his audios if anyone was in the same proximity as you, this was your little secret— he was your little secret.

"Hey guys. We're gonna be doing something a bit different today, so just sit back and listen to me, okay?"

You sat there quietly, your body relaxing as his smooth voice seeped into your ears. It felt like he was speaking directly to you, and you couldn't help but nod along as if he could see you.

"I just want to start off by saying that we've reached 20k followers up here. I'm very grateful for all of you guys and I'll make sure to put out great content. That being said, to show my gratitude I will be hosting a little giveaway, or I guess it's like that. I want to pick one of you to have a private call with me on insta. Crazy huh? Only the best for you guys. To enter, all you have to do is comment on this post what you like about my content...and please, don't be weird... joking haha. The winner will get a private message tomorrow at 8pm. Good luck."

An embarrassing smile painted your smile as you typed out your comment on the post. You knew you probably weren't gonna win, and honestly you weren't even sure you could handle it if you did win, but something in you burned at the thought of what could happen—what it would be like to hear his voice in real time, just for you.

It was impossible to focus on anything else the next day, you even made an anonymous insta account just incase you won. The time went agonizingly slow, you honestly thought you couldn't wait any longer, but finally it was time. 

You sat on your bed after a long day of class and work, checking your notification center obsessively, heart racing with both hope and dread.

8:05 came, then 8:10, and still nothing. By 8:15 you were ready to give up, the little spark of  hope you had starting to flicker out. Just as you were about to close the app, your phone buzzed, a bright orange message appearing at the top of your screen.

hcillusion119- hey, sorry for the late text, I'll make it up to you when we call, but I want to let you know that you won.

Your eyes widened as you stared at the notification, your heart leaping into your throat. No way. It had to be too good to be true. You fumbled with your phone, nearly dropping it as you jumped up in shock. After pacing around your room for a solid five minutes, trying to wrap your mind around it, you finally opened the message.

unknown825: omg tysm TT

hcillusion119: no, thank you :) 

hcillusion119: will you plz choose a date and time?

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard as you considered your options, a thousand scenarios racing through your mind. You could cancel, let someone else, someone braver, take the opportunity. Instead, you found yourself typing.

unknown825: umm, well are you available tonight at 10?

There. You've done it, now there was no turning back.

hcillusion119: yea im available tonight. you're not very patient are you lol? what's your insta so I can call?

unknown825: I just like to get things done. my insta's the same as my user on here.

hcillusion119: ok, did you get my dm?

unknown825: yes, I'll talk to you then.

You barely registered your response before throwing your phone onto the bed, adrenaline rushing through your veins. Your heart was pounding so hard you could hear it. This was real. It was actually happening. You had less than two hours before the call, and the weight of it started to settle on you. What if you said something dumb? What if your voice shook? What if you just... froze?

The minutes went by slowly, agonizingly. You checked the time over and over, becoming more and more nervous with each glance.

9:45... almost time. You laid down in bed, trying to calm your racing thoughts, your phone clutched tightly in your hand. 

9:59.

You took a deep breath, staring at the screen as you scrolled through Instagram, pretending to distract yourself, but your heart was in your throat.Any moment now, your phone would light up, and you'd hear his voice—this time just for you.

Incoming call from hcillusion119

You took a deep breath, letting it ring for a moment before picking up, the silence so intense you could almost hear a pin drop.

Then his voice broke through.

"Hey."

A chill ran down your spine, sharper than you'd expected. Hearing his voice in your ears felt different this time—more personal, more intimate.

"Hi."

Your voice came out low, almost shy. You sat the phone on your stomach, unsure of what to do with your hands. The awkward smile on your face wasn't helping you feel any less flustered.

"How are you doing today?" he asked, his tone casual but warm.

"I'm good, exhausted. What about you?"

"I'm good too," he replied. "tired as well."

"Why are you tired?" You responded. 

"Well, I just moved... like yesterday, so."

"Oh, cool. Where did you move to?"

"I can't tell you that." he said with a teasing edge to his voice.

"Oh, right... I guess I understand."

The conversation wasn't flowing like you'd imagined. It was awkward. You questioned why you were so nervous in the first place. 

"What's your name?" His voice dropped lower and softer, catching you off guard.

"I can't tell you." you mimicked, trying to match his playful tone.

"Ahh, I see what you're doing. Well unknown825, why are you so tired?"

"I had school and work, so I'm pretty worn down."

"School?" He sounded curious, his tone lighter.

"Yeah, I'm in college. You're not like... an old man right?"

He laughed, the sound soft and genuine.

"No, I'm in college too."

"Oh cool."

Silence fell between you again, the awkward kind that made your heart race for no reason. You didn't want to keep bombarding him with boring questions, but you also didn't want the conversation to just end. Still, you felt that sinking feeling that maybe you should've canceled after all.

"So, what's your favorite audio?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"Stress Relief."

"Ah, who would've thought?" He chuckled, his voice dropping an octave. "So you like to be talked through it, huh?"

You hummed in response, turning onto your stomach as you clutched the phone. 

"Do you like being talked through it?" You asked, your tone slightly teasing.

The line went quiet, and for a second, you wondered if you pushed too far, but then you heard him lick his lips, a small noise you wouldn't have caught if you hadn't been listening so intently. 

"Yeah, I do." he admitted, voice deeper now. "Can't help it when I hear a pretty voice like yours."

Your cheeks flushed as a smile crept across your face. "So what are you saying? You want me to talk you through it?"

"I never said that." he interrupted quickly. "Besides, you wouldn't be able to handle it, Miss Stress Relief."

He laughed softly.

"No, you're the one who wouldn't be able to handle it." You shot back, your voice in a mocking tone.

"Are you trying to challenge me?" His tone shifted, there was an edge to it now.

You hummed again, licking your lips before replying. "I never said that,"

You could feel the tension building, the invisible line between the two of you tightening with each word exchanged. You were both teasing each other.

"but I know you want me to." you continued, voice low. "If you asked nicely... maybe I would."

Silence. 

The only thing you could hear was his breathing—slow, but heavy. Even that sounded beautiful, like every part of him was designed to captivate you. You waited, the pressure coiling tighter in the pit of your stomach. Then his voice came again, softer this time.

"Talk me through it."

But there was a command in his tone.

"I said nicely."

There was a pause, and you could almost picture him struggling with the request before he spoke again.

"Ca—Can you please talk me through it?"

"That's more like it." You whispered, smirking. "See what happens when you listen? Now... are your pants down? If they aren't, pull them down."

You waited, hearing the soft rustle of fabric on the other end. He was listening, and the thought made your pulse quicken. Thrill ran through your body, you had never done anything like this before.

"What do you want me to do next?" His voice was quieter now, the assertiveness from before completely gone.

"I want you to touch yourself, but not too fast, okay?"

You paused, waiting for his breathing to change—waiting for him to obey.

"Are you doing it?"

"Yeah." he breathed out, almost as if the word escaped him unintentionally.

"Good. Now, I want you to keep going, but don't finish until I tell you to. Can you handle that?"

There was a pause, his breath quickening. 

"I can handle it." he replied, though his voice wavered just a bit.

"We'll see."

You could feel the heat radiating through the connection, charging the atmosphere around you. His breathing was heavier now, more ragged, each inhalation betraying just how hard he was trying to please you. 

"Tell me how it feels." you encouraged, your voice silky and low. 

"It feels... so good." he stammered, his words interrupted by tiny gasps. "I want you. I want to feel you. I want you here with me." He spoke again.

A shiver ran down your spine at the vulnerability in his tone. The yearning in his voice made you only think about  him—how he sounded, how he felt.

"Touch yourself harder, let me hear you." You whispered. 

He followed your command, his voice becoming strained and desperate Each moan a mix of pleasure with restraint, and you could practically visualize—lost in passion, chasing the edge of that sweet release.

"Are you going faster?" You asked, your heart pounding with anticipation.

"No...  I- I won't until you tell me to." he responded, voice trembling, you could hear the struggle in his words.

"You're such a good boy. You can go faster." You could feel a rush of satisfaction at how he gave himself over to you.

"Fuck." He let out in a breathy moan. You could hear his hand moving faster, driving you to insanity knowing how desperate he was for you.

"Just like that." you murmured. "You want it, don't you?"

He gasped softly, almost pleadingly. "Yes, I want it so bad."

Before you could speak again, he interrupted. "I don't know how much longer I can hold back." His voice full with need.

"You can handle it, right? Well.. that's what you told me." You reminded him, your tone teasing. "Were you lying to me?

"No, but—"  You could hear the struggle in his voice, the way his breaths quickened as he fought against the sensation. 

"Please." A groan reached your ears, confirming your suspicion. "Please, I need—" His voice was whiny, but it was obvious he was trying to keep it in.

"Need what?" you interrupted, a smile on your face. "Permission?" 

"Yes." He responded immediately, his breath rigid. 

"You're close, aren't you?" you teased. "Beg for it. Use that voice and tell me how much you want it."

His breathing became frantic as he pleaded. "I want to cum so badly, please. I can't hold back anymore. I'll do anything you want... just please, let me finish."

You hummed softly, his voice seeping into your ears. His voice was a mix of desperation, coming out in broken gasps. 

"Please... I'm begging you." The urgency in his tone echoed through your mind making you give in.

"Finish for me." You said softly. 

The sound that escaped him was pure ecstasy. His voice melting into a series of gasps and whimpers— loud and desperate, sent shivers through you. 

You wanted to be there, to feel him come undone against you. 

"You did so well." 

"Thank you." he murmured softly, trying to catch his breath, coming down from his high. 

"Well... it's pretty late, I should get going." You spoke. 

"Yeah cool, I understand. Have a good night." He responded, still sounding a bit winded. 

"You too."

And with that you hung up, turning off your phone completely before closing your eyes, drifting to sleep as you thought about what just happened. 

══════════════════════════

A week had passed and you still couldn't shake that night. You didn't know whether to feel disappointed or proud of the night you had with a complete stranger on the internet. It was truly something you had never done before.

Walking into class you noticed an unfamiliar face talking to your professor as you walked to your seat. He was cute, you can admit that, but his sudden appearance already irritated you. You groaned as you saw your professor point your way, and the stranger started walking toward you. Currently you're working on a project that requires a partner. Luckily, you ended up working alone due to the odd number of students, but you could tell that was going to change as he walked towards you.

 Your eyes immediately dropped to your phone, hoping if you pretended not to see him, maybe he would just walk past, but of course you're not that lucky. 

"Hey, I'm Haechan." His voice pulled you from your thoughts. "The professor told me to partner with you for the project."

Your heart skipped a beat, and not in a good way. His voice—it was familiar, uncomfortably familiar. You felt a strange chill creep up your spine, but you quickly brushed it off. It couldn't be him, right?

"Hi, I'm Y/n." You replied, your voice coming out more clipped than you intended.

His eyes squinted ever so slightly as he looked at you in silence for a moment.

"Do you know what you're doing, or am I gonna have to teach you?" You didn't mean to speak harshly, but your words came out sharper than expected.

"I know what I'm doing." He answered, his voice low as he took a seat beside you.

You swear your blood ran cold every time you heard him speak. You listened to your fav audio guys voice a lot, you couldn't lie and say that it wasn't almost the same. It made you feel a little weirded out, only making you think of the night even more every time he spoke, but you just tried to ignore it and focus.

"So, we need to do a few things by the end of next week." You spoke. 

He nodded but remained silent, his eyes locked on you in a way that made you feel exposed. His lips parted slightly as he continued to stare. 

You cleared your throat, trying to ignore the tension. "I don't like strangers coming in my house, can I come over yours to work when we don't have class?"

"Yes, that works. Can I have your phone so I can give you my number? You know, to keep in touch." He asked.

You nodded in agreement, taking your phone and opening the phone app, handing it to him.

You looked away for one second, expecting him to quickly type in his number, but instead, you saw him swipe across the screen, heading straight for your Instagram.

"What are you doing?" You asked, irritation in your voice as you snatched your phone from him. 

"I was tryna give you my insta like I said." He answered defensively, voice cracking slightly as he stared at you offensively.

"You said number." You replied, narrowing your eyes.

"Well I meant insta." He responded hastily, putting out his hand demandingly. 

"Who do you think you are?" You snapped. "You're going to give me your number, it's way more practical." You handed him the phone again, this time watching him like a hawk as he slowly typed in his number, his eyes darting up at you now and then with that same suspicious glint. 

"See how easy it is when you listen." You grinned, Haechan looking at you with glistening, suspicious eyes as you started typing on your computer.

"Why do you have SoundCloud and Spotify?" He asked suddenly, staring at your phone screen.

"What?" You hummed, not breaking contact from your computer. 

"Why do you have SoundCloud AND Spotify. You only need one music app, right?" He asked, emphasizing his words sassily.

You turned to him, rolling your eyes, exasperated. "Why are YOU so noisy." 

At this point you were clearly irritated and just wanted to get your work done, alone.

"Do you have something to hide?" He asked, leaning a bit closer, his eyes gleaming mischievously as he stared up at you.

You looked into his annoyed before sighing and turning back to your computer.

"I just listen to unreleased music up there, happy?"  He hummed in response, not entirely convinced, but he let it go, turning his attention back to his phone.

"Are you busy tonight? I need to come over so we can discuss a new plan and get started." You didn't break any contact from your computer, typing steadily.

"You're not very patient are you?" He chuckled, scrolling through his phone. 

"I just like to get things done." You responded. 

He looked up from his phone, eyebrow raised as he stared at you suspiciously, as if he heard that line before.

"Yeah, that's fine. Come over at 6pm, I'll text you the address." He answered, looking down at his phone again.

"Ok, now get off your phone and give me your email so we can start working." You said.

"Whatever." He rolled his eyes but complied, turning off his phone as he rattled off his email address.

══════════════════════════

You stood at his apartment door, annoyed as no one came to let you in. You turned around, getting ready to leave. The day had already been stressful, and now you were almost at boiling anger.

"Where are you going?"

His voice stopped you in your tracks. You didn't want to turn around, didn't want to acknowledge him—everything in you screamed to leave, but something about his voice pulled you back.

Slowly, you turned to face him, your gaze locking onto his. Haechan stood in the doorway, his frame leaning casually against the doorframe, eyebrows raised as if he hadn't just kept you waiting. 

"What took you so long?" You walked toward him, your tone sharp as you fought to keep your composure.

"I was jerking off." He said sarcastically, a cocky smirk landing on his face as you looked at him with annoyance and disgust.

"Ah!" He yelped suddenly, launching himself toward you in mock attack, his hands making an exaggerated gesture as if he was going to grab you.

"Stop that was disgusting Haechan, what the fuck is wrong with you, seriously?" You asked, voice in obvious irritation. 

He rolled his eyes, moving out the way so you could walk in. "Learn to take a joke." 

Even though you had just got there he was already getting on your nerves. 

You walked into his studio apartment, even though it was small, he made it look quite spacious and comfortable. His room was quite dark, purple and blue led lights surrounding his desk that sat next to his messily made bed, the atmosphere felt almost... intimate.

"It's so dark and scary in here." You joked trying to shake off your earlier discomfort, setting down your belongings and taking a seat on his bed.

Haechan said nothing, his face unreadable as he sat down in his desk chair, spinning it slightly to face you.

"So, why do you have a big microphone and a gaming headset?" you asked, pointing to the equipment scattered across his desk.

He looked at you, his expression unreadable but his jaw tightening. "What do you mean?"

"I mean... why the big setup?  You recording something? Streaming? Or... something else?"

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his gaze darting to the microphone and then to the floor. "I just like good audio." He muttered defensively.

"Good audio for what?"

For a moment, he said nothing, only licking his lips as if buying time. 

"Huh?" You spoke in a mocking tone, raising your eyebrows as you looked at him. "You can't answer?"

"God, why are you so noisy geez." He spoke defensively,  getting up from his chair and snatching the cord from the computer, grabbing the microphone, throwing it in a drawer with more force than necessary.

"Oh, so when you ask questions I'm supposed to just answer, but when I ask you it's different?" You stood up, crossing your arms as you glared at him.

"Yes." He crossed his arms too, mimicking you with a smug expression.

"Do you have something to hide Haechan?" You asked softly, inching closer to him, his sparkling eyes looking into yours as you moved closer.

"Ha, no." He chuckled lightly, though it came out shaky, his shoulders stiffening as he backed up against the desk, knocking into it with a soft thud.

 "Shit." He whispered, turning around quickly, scrambling to pick up all the items that fell, growing startled as he turned back around to see you standing in front of him.

"Why are you so nervous Haechan?" You murmured faintly, your voice drifting into his ears, making his mind race.

"I'm- I'm not" His voice cracked, betraying him as he forced out a chuckle, but it died quickly.

"You sure about that?" you whispered, leaning in just a bit more, your eyes locked on his. You could practically feel his pulse as it quickened at the base of his neck.

His eyes flickered down to your lips before darting back up.

"You act like you're so tough, like you got everything figured out, but here you are, all jumpy and flustered." You teased.

Haechan let out a slow breath, his hands grabbing the edge of his desk, trying to hold himself up. "You think you know me?" His voice was low, barely more than a growl as he tried to regain control of the situation.

You smirked, backing up just a little, giving him space to breathe. "I'm starting to get the picture."

He stood there, silent for a moment, watching you with wary eyes. The tension between you was heavy, but before either of you could say anything more, his phone buzzed on the desk.

He glanced at the screen, then back at you, something unreadable passing over his face. "You gonna stay and work, or you leaving?"

"Let's just get this done." You said, taking a deep breath, breaking eye contact as you turned toward the bed.  

The room felt different now, charged with something unsaid. You settled back onto the bed, pulling your laptop onto your lap, feeling Haechan's gaze on you. 

"Hurry up and pull out your laptop. I don't wanna be here all night." You spoke, turning to him.

His tongue grazed the inside of his mouth as he looked at you with irritated eyes. "Ok." 

══════════════════════════

It had been over a month since you and Haechan have become friends, and you could say that he was bearable now— ok, you were kinda in love with him. How could you not be? His witty personalty, his face, his voice it was hard to not fall for him, especially when you saw him everyday. You and him were always together, hanging out mostly everyday, even after the project, so it wasn't a surprise when you got a text from him. 

hey, can you come over im boreddd? 

yeah 

doors unlocked, just come in.

ok

"Welcome home." He joked as you walked in. 

You smiled, setting down your stuff at the door, removing your shoes to join him on the bed. He was wearing his signature outfit, a black shirt and gray sweatpants—thick frames sitting on his face, his black hair messily in a middle part.

"So what do you want to do?" He asked, turning to you.

"I don't know Haechan you invited me over." You responded, scrolling on your phone. 

"Let's just watch a movie." He said.

You nodded in response, prompting him to get up to grab some snacks. 

Your eyes scanned the room, stopping at his computer. Soundcloud was wide open, the screen pretty much screaming for your attention, and there you saw a familiar banner. 

"What chips do you want." He asked, looking over to you, noticing you staring at the computer. You broke contact with the computer, looking at him, still a little taken aback. 

"Uh, it- it doesn't matter." You said, looking back at the computer subconsciously. His eyes joined yours, staring at the computer screen then back into yours. 

"Oh oops, is it too bright?" He asked, walking over to his desk and exiting out of the tab, turning down the computer brightness. 

"Yea thanks." You giggled, turning back to look at your phone. 

Your head flooded a thousand thoughts. 

Ok, you could be overreacting and he could just be a pervert like you and you both happened to listen to the same guy, or it could be something he just stumbled across, but everything lined up so perfectly. 

You turned the phone away from him, turning down your brightness as you opened Soundcloud. You went straight to his profile and the banner was obviously the same, no denying that, but you looked around the account for more hints. You couldn't find anything else, it's not like you could ask him anyways, right? 

You were about to give up, but you took another good look at the profile, his banner catching your attention. You sat examining the username that was in the center 'hcillusion119." What could that mean? 

"Hey Haechan."

"What?" He turned to look at you. 

"If you had to choose a number what would it be? Make it in the hundreds." 

"I don't know, maybe one hundred and nineteen."

Your eyes widened as you stared at your phone. No way...

"What are your initials again?" You asked, looking at your phone.

"LDH, Why?" He asked.

"Huh, where did the D come from?" You turned to him with questioning eyes. 

"That's my real name Y/n. My other initials are LHC, Why are you asking?" He answered with a snarky tone. 

You sat staring at him for a second, the user name replaying over and over again in your mind. That was it— the hc stood for Haechan. Of course he would choose a name like that: 'Haechan Illusion 119', it was right in front of your face. 

"I have to go to the bathroom, take a second to get back normal because you're acting weird." He said, interrupting your thoughts.

You turned to him nodding, going back on your phone like there wasn't a care in the world. You sat there waiting patiently for the bathroom door to shut and lock, waiting a few seconds before sprinting up, taking a seat in his computer chair. 

Thankfully, he didn't lock the computer, so you could easily access everything. You turned the brightness up and quickly typed in the website, before you even typed in the whole word it came up. You clicked on it, and there it was— that banner, those audios, and a 'edit' button. 

Your eyes widened, you always had a feeling that it was him, especially when you heard his voice, but something was telling you that it was too good to be true— this explained everything. 

The microphone, why he was persistently trying to get into your insta, why he asked about Soundcloud on your phone, everything was piecing together. You quickly typed instagram on the search bar, praying that it was logged in, and thank goodness it was. You went straight to his dms, a whole bunch of randoms of course, but then you saw it: 'unknown825'. You sat still for a second, staring at your username, clicking on it. You laughed to yourself quietly, you didn't know whether to feel relived, nervous, or...

"It's you, isn't it?" he said from behind you, startling you. 

You turned around, heart racing. "I- um-" You stuttered, locking eyes with him, still sitting in the chair as he drifted towards you.

"You know, the first day we met in class I had a feeling it was you, but I didn't wanna jump to conclusions— goodness you looked like you were about to fall apart every time I spoke though, how could I not get suspicious?" 

"I don't know what you're talking about Haechan." Your response came out a little less convincing than you thought. 

"I tried to get into your insta, but there was nothing. I looked on your computer, nothing as well. Soundcloud? logged out. God you're good at hiding this." He inched closer and closer to you, your breathing getting heavier with every step. 

"I couldn't just ask, expose what I do if it wasn't you. You thought the same thing too right, wanted to ask, but you couldn't? You had nothing to lose regardless, but I took you for one of those kind of girls— the kind that acts all innocent in front of everyone, but has a deeper, dirtier secret that you're hiding." His voice was seductive, yet mocking as well, you cant say that it didn't hurt your ego a little to spoken to like a little slut who got caught doing something they weren't supposed to be doing. 

"What, the cat got your tongue? What happened to you being so dominant?" He teased, sitting on his bed next to the chair, grabbing the arm rest and turning you to face him. 

"You know, if you're wrong then you look like a fucking idiot." You scoffed.

You tried to make yourself sound as convincing and possible, tried to make the situation seem like it didn't bother you, but honestly you were a little uptight about it. It's all fun and games when it's on the phone and you could just block each other and not talk ever again, but in person it was so much more.

"There she is, the Y/n I know and love. You know, I've waited for this moment. The moment where you would finally be so fucking desperate to know if it was me, been waiting for you to go through my stuff. You wouldn't do it though, surprisingly, so I just gave you a little push." He smiled, placing his hand on your knee. 

You shoved his hand off of you. "What are you talking about, gave me a little push?" You asked, giving him questioning eyes.

"You think I would just keep Soundcloud wide open on my computer Y/n, be serious? I thought you were smarter than that." He smiled cockily, titling his head as you looked deeply into his eyes.

It was a setup. He set this whole thing up to catch you on purpose, and you fell right into his fucking trap. 

"You're despicable. You did it, you caught me... now what?" You asked, leaning back in the chair, crossing your arms.

He took a look at the computer that was behind you, pointing to it, prompting you to look. You can't lie and say that you and hcillusion119, well, Haechan didn't do this call thing often, and that's exactly what he was hinting at— the call that took place two days ago. 

"Remember what you said we would do if we were together, what you would do to me?" He asked, his sweet, desperate voice melting your brain like ice cream on a hot summer day. 

"No Haechan, I don't remember."

Of course, you remembered. How could you forget? Every late night conversation was carved into your mind. Each call felt like an escape, an intimate secret between just the two of you, leaving you aching for more. Now, the weight of his presence made it impossible to deny your own desires. You were curious...no, desperate to know if what you shared over the phone would be even more intoxicating in person.

"Let me remind you... please?" he whined, his voice tugging at something deep within you. He leaned down, his hand trembling slightly as he grabbed yours, guiding it to his cheek. The warmth of his skin sent shivers through your body, and without thinking, your thumb began to gently stroke his face.

His eyes closed as he leaned into your touch, his breath coming out in shaky sighs. "I'll be your good boy." he whispered, barely audible.

Your heart raced, the thrill of finally having him in front of you, not just a voice through a phone but real, and within reach. You could see the way his lips parted slightly, the rise and fall of his chest. It felt good to finally be close, to finally have him like this.

Without breaking eye contact, you slowly withdrew your hand from his cheek. His eyes snapping open, filled with need, searching your face as you got up from your seat. His gaze followed you, not wanting to  even be an inch away from you.

"Go to the headboard." You murmured softly.

Haechan reacted instantly, rushing to the head of the bed, pressing his back firmly against the headboard. He adjusted his glasses, his lips slightly parted, eyes locked onto yours.

You crawled onto the bed, your movements slow. His breath hitched as you came wanting more, needing you. You reached him, your body hovering just above his, your fingers grazing the side of his face again.

"Tell me," you whispered, leaning in close enough for your breath to ghost over his lips. "what did I say I was gonna do?"

His eyes sparkled, you could see him unraveling, caught in the web of everything you had both imagined during those late nights. You both knew that you imagined each other's faces on those calls after you met in person for the first time, and now it was all a reality. 

“You said... you'd make me beg." His voice was a trembling whisper

"So beg me." You whispered, your voice soft, lips brushing against his ear, sending a wave of heat through him.

You felt him tense under your fingertips. His eyes, wide and pleading, locked onto yours with a desperation that made your heart pound. "Can I kiss you?" he asked, voice small, almost a whimper.

You smiled at the sight of him completely undone in front of you. You slowly lifted his glasses up onto his forehead, pushing the messy strands of his hair away from his face. Your fingers lightly grazed his skin, and he closed his eyes, leaning into your touch.

"That's not how you ask." You teased, your voice low as you leaned in closer, just enough for your lips to brush his, but not meet fully.

He let out a shaky breath, his body trembling with need. "Please... Can I please kiss you Y/n? I need you," he breathed, his voice barely holding together. "I want your lips on mine so bad."

Your smile deepened as you leaned in, teasingly grazing your lips against his again, just barely. His lips parted, waiting for you to close the gap, but you pulled back, watching as frustration and longing flooded his expression. He swallowed hard, his eyes darkening with desire as he leaned closer, his forehead resting against yours.

"Please." He whispered.

You finally gave in, pressing your lips against his in a heated, passionate kiss. The moment your lips met, it was like something electric passed between you both. The kiss deepened as his lips moved urgently against yours, tongues tangling together as if you were both trying to consume each other, neither wanting to pull away. You melted into him, your body pressing closer.

The kiss broke only when you both needed air, both of you gasping as you parted. Haechan's lips were swollen, his breath shallow, his chest heaving as he stared at you, his eyes filled with lust.

"Can I touch you?" He whispered, his voice needy.

You nodded, your heart racing even faster as he shifted you higher in his lap, his hands trailing slowly, up your sides. His fingers caressed your skin through your clothes and you felt his breath hitch as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, kissing your skin softly at first, then harder.

His lips moved down, sucking and biting gently at your skin, leaving marks. His hands explored your body, grabbing, squeezing, and pulling you closer, his touch growing more possessive with every second. His hips moved beneath you, the friction of his lap against you sending waves of heat pooling in your stomach. You gasped as he rocked you back and forth, grinding you against him.

Small, breathy moans escaped your lips as his mouth moved from your neck, traveling down to your collarbone, where he kissed and nipped at your skin, his hands sliding lower, gripping your hips firmly and guiding your movements against him.

"Fuck... feels so good." He whimpered, his voice strained as he broke away from your skin, his head falling back against the headboard. His eyes were half lidded as he watched you move.

Your hands found their way into his hair, tugging lightly as he groaned, his body reacting to every touch, every movement. His grip on your waist tightened, and you felt him twitch beneath you as he pulled you even closer, his hips bucking up against you.

"God Y/n." He whispered breathlessly, lips finding yours again, the kiss hungry and desperate, his tongue exploring your mouth as if he couldn't get enough of you.

He pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes. "I wanna taste you." He desperately spoke, looking at you with begging eyes.

Your fingers slid through his hair as you watched him, his breath quickening, his hands resting on your hips. He was desperate for your permission.

"I wanna taste you." He repeated. He was looking up at you, his lips parted, pleading. "Please Y/n... I'll make you feel so good, I promise."

You let out a soft hum, your fingers tracing along his jaw, watching as his body visibly tensed, waiting for your response. You could see the hunger in his eyes, the way he couldn't tear his gaze away from you. He was completely under your control, willing to do anything you asked.

"You'll do exactly what I want?" You whispered, your thumb grazing over his cheek as you leaned closer, teasing him with the lightest touch. He swallowed hard, nodding quickly.

"Yes—yes." He breathed, his voice barely holding together. His eyes were wide, shimmering with anticipation, his grip on your hips tightening, almost as if he were afraid you'd pull away. "Please, just let me. I'll make you feel so good Y/n, I swear."

Your lips curved into a small smile as you stroked the side of his head, leaning in just enough for him to feel the warmth of your breath. "Then go ahead baby. Make me feel good."

The moment the words left your mouth, his eyes lit up. Without wasting another second, he gently pushed you onto your back, his hands moving with urgency as he pulled down your pants and underwear in one motion.

He paused for a moment, his gaze locking onto you with awe, like he was seeing something he had dreamed about for far too long. His hands traced along your thighs, and you could feel the faint trembling in his fingers as he spread your legs, positioning himself between them. His eyes grew wide as he took in the sight of you, his lips parting slightly as he let out a soft exhale, his breath warm against your skin.

"You're... perfect." He murmured, almost to himself, his voice barely above a whisper. He leaned in, his lips brushing your inner thigh, sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine. You could feel his desire, his need to please you.

Slowly, he began kissing his way up your thighs, his lips trailing delicately. Every kiss sent a spark of heat through your body, and you could feel your pulse quicken as he got closer and closer to where you wanted him most. His hands gripped your hips firmly, keeping you in place as his breath fanned over your core.

"Fuck..." he groaned, his voice low. You could feel the restraint in his body as he tried to hold himself back. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, and you saw nothing but hunger in them.

"You're so beautiful Y/n." He whispered before lowering his head between your legs, finally giving you what you'd been waiting for.

The first touch of his tongue against you was slow, he was savoring the taste of you. He let out a soft moan, the sound vibrating against your skin, sending waves of pleasure through your body. His hands held your thighs apart, his grip possessive but gentle as he worked his tongue in slow, sensual strokes.

"Oh my god." You moaned out, your hands tangling in his hair as he buried his face deeper between your legs, his tongue moving with more urgency now. He flicked his tongue against your clit, earning a gasped out of you, your back arching off the bed as he sucked lightly, sending jolts of pleasure through your entire body.

Haechan groaned against you, the vibrations from his voice adding to the sensation, and you could feel his desperation growing with every second. He was completely lost in you, every lick, every suck more intense than the last. His hands slid up your thighs, holding you steady as he devoured you, his tongue moving faster, more eagerly.

Your breaths came out in shallow gasps, your body trembling beneath his touch, and you could feel the heat building in your core, your stomach tightening with every flick of his tongue.

"Haechan... fuck." You whimpered, your grip tightening in his hair as he continued to work his mouth against you.

"Please Y/n, I want you to come for me." He groaned against your skin, his voice filled with desire. His tongue moved faster, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. "I need you."

You cried out, your entire body trembling as waves of pleasure washed over you, your grip tightening in his hair as you rode out your high, legs shaking. Haechan didn't stop, his mouth still working against you, drawing out your orgasm. 

Finally, he pulled back, his lips swollen and glistening, his eyes filled with satisfaction as he looked up at you.

"Did I do good?" He asked softly, his voice still breathless, his eyes searching yours. 

"Mhm." You hummed, your fingers gently stroking his cheek brushing away a few strands of hair. "You did so good for me." 

He smiled in response, leaning in to take your lips into a kiss.

Somehow, it was more passionate than the last. You two devoured each other, tongues tangling, your body heating up as you felt Haechan grind against you, trying to feel some type of friction.

"Fuck, I need to feel you... can I please feel you Y/n?" He whispered, his breath tickling your earlobe.

You pulled back slightly, your eyes meeting his. "Do you think you deserve it?" You asked teasingly.

His eyes locked onto yours. "I do... please, let me feel you." He pleaded.

You couldn't resist the sincerity in his eyes. With a playful smirk, you gestured for him to adjust, his back pressing against the headboard as anticipation swirled between you.

"If you think you deserve it, then take off your pants." you instructed, your voice firm yet inviting.

His eyes widened like he was in a dream.  Without hesitation, he slid down his pants, exposing his readiness to you, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Of course you're not wearing underwear." You laughed, crawling into his lap, his eyes filled with  excitement and shyness. 

"You're so fucking dirty." You whispered, threading your fingers through his hair, drawing a soft moan from him as you gave a gentle tug.

His glasses slipped to the bridge of his nose, but he seemed unconcerned, his attention solely on you. Any other time he would've voiced a rebuttal to your comment, but he needed you so bad he couldn't even find the words.

"Please." He murmured desperately.

Slowly, you adjusted yourself, guiding him to your entrance. Both of you moaned as you took him in, inch by inch, until he was fully in you.

He threw his head back against the headboard, overwhelmed by the sensation of your warmth surrounding him as you moved. "Fuck." he whimpered, his grip on your hips tightening.

"What, can you not handle it?" You teased.

"I—" He tried to speak before it was cut off by a small moan escaping as you pulled him deeper. "Can I move you?" He asked.

A soft nod was all he needed. His hands found your hips, guiding you, lifting you in a rhythm that soon had him whimpering your name, his movements becoming more desperate as your heat wrapped around him.

He had dreamed of this moment—the chance to feel you, and it was everything he'd imagined and more. "Fuck, feels so good." He whimpered.

His pace quickened, driven by your shared need, each whimper and sigh from you encouraging him to go deeper, faster.

"Fuck Haechan, you're so big." You moaned out, the words shooting straight to his pelvis. 

"Are you gonna be good for me and cum?" you whispered into his ear, your words sending a shiver of pleasure through his body.

"Yes, fuck, I'll be good for you." He moaned out, overwhelmed by the sensations pushing him closer to the edge. His glasses fogged with each heated breath.

His movements grew messy, each thrust sending him closer to the edge, you tightening around him.

"Fuck, gonna—cum.” He gasped, his body trembling beneath you.

"Cum for me, I'm almost there." You said, your stomach tightening as he hit your g-spot.

"Feels so good." He whimpered, the feeling of you clenching around him making him go almost insane. 

"Fuck— gotta pull out." He could barely get the words out, eyes squeezed shut, he felt dizzy. Even though his mouth said one thing, his hands kept moving you, keeping himself deep inside you.

"It's okay baby, fill me up." You moaned, the permission tipping him over the edge.

"Fuck I'm coming." He let out a choked whimper, finding his release, filling you full of his seed. His hands covered his mouth as he tried to hold in the cries that wanted to be let out. 

"Uncover your mouth."  You spoke, wanting to hear every precious sound he made, reaching your high shortly after. 

His hands fell away, gripping the sheets to ground himself. His moans turned into cries of pleasure as he twitched beneath you, riding out the last waves of pleasure together. 

"Shit." You said breathless, exhausted and satisfied, your head resting in the crook of his neck, your shared breath slowing to a gentle rhythm.

"Look at what you do to me." He muttered, obviously still winded.

"Look at what you do to me"  You said, gently cupping his face, smiling as you took in the mess you both became—his glasses fogged beyond use. 

He smiled lazily, resting his head on the head board as he let out a satisfied sigh, closing his eyes.

[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!”

[mazeeelabyrinth]

♡♡♡ Project Bunny ♡♡♡

Chapter I: Live - PixelBunny.exe

“Y-you all are so mean… I’m shy, y’know. I’m not just here to be your toy…” You purred, same curated high-pitched tone matched with a sickly sweet giggle. “But thank you, Daddies.”

♡■♡■♡ Pairing: LADS MLIs x afab camgirl!reader

♡■♡■♡ Plot Summary:

By day, you're just a broke barista with a caffeine addiction, with a useless degree and a student loan nightmare, and a customer service smile stitched over your burnout. By night, you're Pixel Bunny—a bratty, cosplay-clad camgirl with a shy voice, a pastel aesthetic, and a growing fanbase that keeps your lights on and your legs open.

Except… your five most generous patrons are a little too devoted. Each a stranger with a username and a hard-on for control, slowly bleeding into your real life.

♡■♡■♡ Tags: 18+, multichapters, second pov, eventual poly, eventual orgy, dark romance, reverse harem, shameless smut, porn with plot, explicit, gradual shift into darker themes, voyeurism, praise kink, porn, ooc, canon divergence au, sex toys, clothing fetish, cosplay, breeding kink, ddlg (daddy dom/little girl), pet names, live masturbation, power play, strip tease, sex work, camgirl au, streaming culture, orgasm denial, parasocial relationship, obsessive parasocial behavior, dirty talk, stalking tendencies, reader is not mc, reader has a day job, reader is addressed as "Bunny" or "PixelBunny" on stream, masked identities

♡■♡■♡ Word Count: 7.2K

A/N: Finally dug up an old idea and use it for another LADS fanfic. I was debating whether I use an oc or just follow my usual "x reader", guess what I did? Please take this "you" persona impersonally.

A/N2: holy shit, I thought I saved it up as a draft 😂 I wasn't done editing it lmfao

MASTERLIST | AO3 | FOR TAG LIST, INTERACT HERE. | NAVIGATION

Your screen flickered to life with the soft, ambient glow of neon pinks and cool lilacs. Lo-fi beats hummed low through your headset, a curated loop of calming bass and synthetic purrs you’ve fine-tuned to make every viewer feel like they were lounging right in bed with you.

The room behind you was an aesthetic fever dream: plushies, pastel LEDs, posters of vintage anime girls with glassy eyes and lollipops too large for their mouths.

You're perched on the center of your bed, legs curled just right, clad in a baby-pink cropped cardigan that technically covers your nipples—but just barely, plaid skirt strategically rumpled that showed off your panties you’d pretend were modest if they weren’t riding a dangerous line between “cute” and “cam site terms of service violation.”

The bunny-eared headset—your signature look—bobbed slightly as you adjusted, lips glossed to a cherry sheen and parted with practiced nervousness.

A delectable morsel wrapped in pastel and lust. That’s you, PixelBunny. A camgirl rising on the other side of the internet.

Just shy. Just bratty enough.

Innocent. Dumb. Deceiving.

Click. You're live.

The chat was already rioting. A thousand hearts bloomed in the corner of your screen. Familiar names lit up the chat like a twisted bouquet of usernames you knew better than your actual friends.

Syl.Draconia 💎 has joined the stream 🐇

R.tist!c tipped 1000 credits: angel, that lipstick shade is killing me

X-Devoted upgraded to SUGAR DADDY - ULTRA VIP 💎

Mr. WhiteCoat tipped 500 credits: Don’t overwork yourself.

C.Pilot: you're late. I've been waiting Bunny. ;)

3009 more viewers have joined 🐇

You smiled sweetly. Blushed. Looked away. A beat too long, just to make them ache for it. And then, your voice—high, breathy, a porcelain teacup too full of heat—spilled into the mic.

“H-hi, everyone. Welcome back to my... super cozy Friday stream. I—I missed you all so much... I was sooo lonely today…”

A flurry of small donations exploded with the flood of emotes. Bunnies. Eggplants. Hearts. Claws. One name after another. Each one hit your account like a loaded promise. A private ping dinged—five times, exactly. Direct messages, encrypted, VIP access only.

You ignored them. For now.

The camera zoomed slightly—auto-focus tracing your thighs as they shifted. Your skin was glossed, powdered, glowing under artificial moonlight. You stretched your arms overhead, the croptop sliding just enough to show the soft curve of underboobs, a calculated ‘oopsie’ perfected by months of practice.

C.Pilot: you know you missed yesterday right?

X-Devoted: Uve been a veeery naughty bunny…

Mr. WhiteCoat: I’m monitoring your dopamine spikes in real time. They’re inconsistent.

R.tist!c: is that the cardigan i sent you? unbutton it slowly

Syl.Draconia: Shes hiding something tonight. Increased blink rate. Deviated gaze.

“Y-you all are so mean… I’m shy, y’know. I’m not just here to be your toy…” You purred, same curated high-pitched tone matched with a sickly sweet giggle. “But thank you, Daddies.”

You giggled, again, hiding your face in your hands. A perfect little bunny. Tempting fate like it was a game. Innocence so carefully curated it could only be filthy. Just a girl in your safe little pastel den, alone in your apartment, with predatory men watching you burn.

You shifted, thighs parting slightly, your voice rising just a note.

“I m-might’ve been a little mean… I didn’t respond to some DMs. I went live without private previews tonight... I guess I was just feeling bold.”

X-Devoted: U will learn sweetheart

Syl.Draconia: Already running your own script. Dangerous.

Mr. WhiteCoat: This requires corrective conditioning.

C.Pilot: youre gonna make me break my keyboard Bun.

R.tist!c: keep talking, your shame is muse enough

The camera light pulsed. You leaned forward, intentionally framing your cleavage with your forearms as you pouted at the lens.

“You’re all so strict with me lately,” you murmured, voice full of mock-pout and something that wasn’t so mock. “But I know how much you missed me…”

You reached for a small heart-shaped plastic on the nightstand.

“A-and I think I’m ready to be your good bunny again.”

Then—click.

You pressed the first tip-button. The sex toy that was already inserted before the stream purred to life inside you, humming quiet and wicked.

“A-ah—mm! T-that’s... oopsie.” Well, at least the moan that slipped from your glossy lips was real.

X-Devoted: Dont play shy. U wore that choker for me.

Syl.Draconia: Zoom. 140%. Enhance the thighs.

R.tist!c: such soft curves, let me paint you like this

Mr. WhiteCoat: Keep still. I’m running diagnostics.

C.Pilot : bet she soaked the sheets already.

mr.unknown: oh yes, moan for us more 😩

zeronut: show pussy plz… 💦

"Oh... Oh Daddy..." You murmured into the mic, your eyes glazed over as the vibrations from the toy X-Devoted had chosen for you resonated through your body. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, a blush that surely painted your face in a way that made the camera love you more. The chat was a whirlwind of lewd comments and generous tips. Each one of your patrons had a piece of you, and you knew it. You reveled in it.

You leaned back into the plush pillows, your hands sneaked under the cardigan, fingers dancing over your chest, tracing the edges of the pasties you knew R.tist!c had picked out from the last set of gifts he'd sent. His taste was always so... exquisite. You could feel your heart racing, the decorative adhesive tickling against your skin with each breath.

"Thank you for the tips, Daddy..." You breathed into the mic, a soft smile playing on your lips as you scanned the chat for X-Devoted's name. His tip had triggered the toy, and the pleasure was already pooling in your stomach, threatening to spill over. "You're all so generous tonight."

The screen was a blur of usernames and donation amounts. You bit your bottom lip, letting the anticipation build as you slowly unbuttoned the cardigan. The cool air hit your bare skin, and you shivered dramatically for the camera, knowing it would drive them wild. The room was a symphony of virtual praise, each note hitting a different chord of your arousal.

X-Devoted: Good girl. Thats what I like to see

C.Pilot: let’s see how much you’ve been taking care of yourself Bunny.

R.tist!c: more little bun, show us everything

With a devilish smirk, you leaned forward, giving them the show they were dying to see. The cardigan fell away, revealing the purple, starfish-shaped pasties that covered your areola—nipples already peaked out and were begging for attention beneath the adhesive silicone.

The cold lens of the camera was the only thing touching them as you whispered, "Look at what you do to me, Daddy." You gave your torso a gentle shake, watching your breasts jiggle before the eyes of your devoted audience.

The chat exploded with emojis and messages. The numbers on the side of your screen spun upwards like a slot machine hitting a jackpot. You felt a thrill of power, a heady rush of adrenaline, knowing that these men were all watching you, all wanting you, all willing to give you anything to satisfy their desires. You were the puppeteer, and they were your marionettes, dancing to the tune of your siren's song.

"Would you like to taste my tits, Daddy?" You whispered into the void, watching the screen as your words sent a shockwave through the chat. The vibrator in your panties buzzed in time with your racing heart every time someone tipped, a symphony of need and greed. You cupped your breasts, your thumbs flicking over the covered areola, teasing the silicone away from your sensitive skin.

X-Devoted: Yes baby. Take off the starfish. Let us all admire ur pretty nipples

Mr.WhiteCoat: Use the adhesive fabric next time if the silicone irritates your nipples.

R.tist!c: i wish those pasties were my mouth

R.tist!c: soon you will be mine

C.Pilot: make it quick, I can feel my cock pulsing already.

Syl.Draconia: Watch yourself Bunny. Watch how beautiful you are.

You bit back a giggle, feeling a thrill of excitement at their commands. You knew they were all watching, all waiting with bated breath for the moment you'd give in. Your fingers danced along the edge of the silicone, the tension building as you paused, just for a second, to let them beg for more.

Syl.Draconia tipped 1000 credits: Take it off let the breeze kiss those pretty nipples of yours.

Your heart skipped a beat as you read the message from Syl.Draconia. His requests always sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and excitement. But you had a show to run. You had to keep them all on the edge of their seats. So, with a flick of your wrist, the pasties came off, revealing your bare breasts to the camera. The coolness of the room kissed your skin, making your nipples peak even further. You leaned closer to the camera, letting them get a good look at the prize.

But amidst the flurry of tips and messages, one stood out. C.Pilot’s text was simple, but the implication was clear. "you know I wanna fuck those tits Bunny." The chat went wild, a mix of excitement and anticipation. This wasn't the first time he'd made such a bold statement.

You looked into the camera, eyes wide with feigned shock, "Oh my... Daddy's being extra naughty tonight." You giggled, playing coy. But inside, you felt a thrill of danger. It was all part of the game, but you knew it was one you couldn't ignore for much longer.

The tips continued to flood in as you played with the strings of your skirt, tugging it down just enough to reveal the sheer lace of your panties. The camera zoomed in, capturing the wetness that had already begun to soak through. You could feel the fabric sticking to your skin as you teased them, the anticipation building. Each user's kink reflected in their words, a silent bidding war for your attention.

X-Devoted: Spread ur legs for us baby. Show us ur sweet little cunt

Mr.WhiteCoat: I can see your heart rate increasing. Keep going.

R.tist!c: imagine its my tongue licking you clean

C.Pilot: you know I’d shower those tits with my cum.

Syl.Draconia: Take off the skirt. Give us a show.

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of their eyes—or rather, the screens—on you. It was all a game, a dance of power and desire played out in pixels. But you were good at this dance, weren't you? You'd been doing it for some months. You leaned back, letting your legs fall open just enough to hint at the lacy treasure beneath. The toy in your panties buzzed louder, the intensity of the vibrations making you gasp.

"M-maybe later, Daddy. I-I’m getting shy now…" you whispered, batting your eyelashes at the camera in practiced timidity. The chat erupted again, the sound of keys smacking screens echoing in your mind. The thrill of control was intoxicating. You were the queen of this digital realm, and they were all just pawns in your game.

The vibrations grew more intense, and you couldn’t help but squirm. You reached down and slipped your hand into your skirt, your fingers sliding over the drenched fabric of your panties. The toy buzzed against your clit, and you let out a soft moan, the sound echoing through the quiet apartment. The room grew hot, the air thick with lust.

Mr.WhiteCoat: Your pulse is racing faster now. Tell us how it feels.

X-Devoted: Ure mine tonight bunny

R.tist!c: i can almost taste you through the screen

C.Pilot: give us a better look.

Syl.Draconia: Yes show us how much you want it.

Your cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink, and your breathing grew heavier as you read the messages, feeling their eyes on you—or rather, the screens that served as their windows into your private world. The vibrations grew stronger, and you could feel yourself getting closer to the edge. But you weren’t ready to give in just yet. You had to keep them wanting more.

"But not yet, Daddy," you murmured into the microphone, your voice a sultry whisper. "I want to save the best for later." You pulled your hand away from your panties, leaving them wet and exposed. The camera zoomed in, and you watched the chat light up with excitement. You had them hooked, and you were the master angler reeling them in, inch by inch.

With a practiced brattiness, you stood from the bed.

"Oh... so cold!~" You gasp, hugging yourself in a manner dramatic enough to tease your audience.

You turned to face the camera fully, your eyes scanning the chat for any signs of the five high-rollers you knew were out there. You strutted over to the clothing rack, the soft thud of your feet echoing through the quiet room. The outfit was a surprise, something you'd picked out just for them. A devilish smirk played on your lips as you pulled out the hanger, the fabric gliding over your fingertips like silk.

"Alright, everyone," you announced, the sound of you unraveling the garment garnering a slew of eager messages. "It's time for the main event!" The anticipation in your voice was palpable as you held the outfit against your body, obscuring your nakedness with the screen of fabric. "Tonight, I've got something extra special for you. Who's ready for a surprise?"

The chat exploded with excitement, a barrage of suggestive emojis and filthy messages.

C.Pilot: can't wait Bunny.

Mr.WhiteCoat: Your secrets are the best part of the show.

R.tist!c: show us little muse

You took a deep breath, the anticipation building in your chest as you held up the lingerie set. "I've got something that's gonna knock your socks off, Daddies!" You giggled, feeling the excitement of your digital audience pulse through the air. The pastel colors shimmered under the soft light, a perfect blend of innocence and desire.

You turned around, giving them a glimpse of your bare back, the tension building as you slowly untied the strings of your skirt. The skirt softly rustled as it slid down your thighs like silk, leaving only your sheer panties that barely covered your dripping cunt and the vibrator thrumming inside you.

"Oopsie daisy!" You exclaimed, feigning clumsiness, making sure the camera captured every inch of your exposed skin. "Looks like I need to get changed!"

The chatter in the chat grew louder as you began to peel off your panties, the fabric sticking to your wetness before finally sliding away. The toy remained in place, a silent sentinel of your pleasure.

You stepped into the new set, a pair of lace g-strings that barely covered your curves, and a matching sheer bralette that left nothing to the imagination. Each movement sent waves of pleasure through your body, the vibrations syncing with your heartbeat.

"How does this look?" You asked, spinning around for them, giving a full view of the new ensemble. The chat went wild, a cacophony of lewd comments and tips. You could feel the power surging through you, a heady rush that only grew as you watched the numbers climb.

X-Devoted: Perfect. Just like I knew it would be

Mr.WhiteCoat: Your obedience is... commendable, PixelBunny.

R.tist!c: a masterpiece worthy of my canvas

C.Pilot: fuck baby. you're driving me wild.

You leaned closer to the camera, your breath hot against the lens. "Does Daddy like it?" You whispered, your eyes sparkling with mischief. The chat was a blur of eager responses, each one more eager than the last.

Syl.Draconia: Youre a vision, my sweet bunny. I could rip that in one flick of my fingers.

You winked at the camera, the toy inside you buzzing in response to the thrill of their words. "Good, because I got something extra special for you all." Your breasts bounced slightly as you turned, giving them the show they craved. "Who wants to see what I've got planned?"

The tips—smaller amounts this time—poured in faster than you could read, the screen lighting up like a Christmas tree. Your heart raced as you felt the eyes of your devoted fans, the vibrations inside you reaching a crescendo. "Alright, Daddies. Let's get this party started!"

You slid the toy out of you with a wet pop, ensuring the camera caught everything, the chat exploding in a symphony of virtual pleasure. The toy was replaced with something new, something they hadn't seen before. It was a custom-made dildo, the girthy shaft covered in bumpy, tiny lights that matched the color scheme of your room.

"This little guy is gonna light up the night," you said with a wink, turning it on. The lights flickered in time with your racing pulse, a silent promise of what was to come.

Strutting closer to your desktop, you straddled the fuschia pink-white gaming chair, posing your back against the lens. You took a moment to appreciate the view on the screen—the way the lights played off your curves, highlighting the view of your asscheeks in the air, your drenched cunt peeking through the scant g-string. Turning you into a living work of art.

Then, with a sultry smile, you placed the tip of the dildo against your entrance, the coolness sending a shiver down your spine.

"Ready for the main event, Daddies?" You teased, tapping the toy playfully against your asscheeks. The chat was a sea of anticipation, a mix of eagerness and greed. You spread your legs wider, giving them a perfect view of your glistening pussy, the fabric of your g-string the only barrier between you and their hungry eyes.

You leaned further into the chair, the cold leather against your skin a stark contrast to the heat building within you. The lights from the dildo reflected off the chrome of your gaming chair, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the room. The plastic frames bit into your knees as you settled into the position, a slight discomfort that only served to heighten the thrill of the moment.

The chat was a blur of excitement, a cacophony of usernames and tips flying by as they watched you, rapt and eager for your next move.

X-Devoted: Slowly baby. Make it last

Mr.WhiteCoat: I’m taking notes of how many pumps you’re going to do tonight.

R.tist!c: oh i wanna sketch this

C.Pilot: fuck bunny. you're so wet, I could almost feel it.

Syl.Draconia: Use the lube I sent.

With a seductive smile, you took the lube, never breaking eye contact with the camera’s lens as you lathered it around the girthy artificial phallus. The squelching echoed to the mic as your hands pumped in a tantalizing rhythm, giving your audience the fantasy of you touching their cocks instead.

You began to rub the tip against your swollen clit, the lights flickering in time with your movements. The sensation was electric, sending a jolt through your body that made your eyes roll back in your head.

"Mm, Daddy likes it slow?" You murmured, your voice a breathless purr. "Alright, let's see if I can be a good girl." You slid the toy down, teasing the folds of your pussy. The chat was a flurry of commands and compliments, each one feeding the fire of your desire.

With a deliberate slowness that was as much for show as it was for their benefit, you brushed the string of your panties aside and pushed the dildo inside your cunt. The lights flickered in time with the strokes, creating a mesmerizing pattern across your skin. You moaned, the sound carrying through the quiet apartment, a symphony of pleasure that seemed to echo back at you from the screens of your devoted fans.

"Oh, yes... just like that," you whispered into the microphone, the vibrations from the dildo making your voice shake slightly. "Daddy's got me feeling so good."

Your eyes remained locked on the camera, watching as the tips continued to roll in. Each one a little victory, each one a validation of your power. You began to move the toy in and out, the lights casting a rainbow of shadows across your vaginal walls. "Tell me, Daddies," you gasped, "How does it look when I'm being such a good girl for you?"

Mr.WhiteCoat: Your pussy looks so tight around that new toy, PixelBunny. You’re taking it well.

C.Pilot: oh fuck. that's so hot. like you're begging for the real thing.

R.tist!c: like a painting baby, a masterpiece

Syl.Draconia: Tell me you wish it was my cock Bunny.

X-Devoted: Ure mine Bunny. Remember that

Their reactions varied, a symphony of desire played out in digital text. Some praised your obedience, others painted vivid pictures of what they’d do to you, while another whispered dark promises of possession. Yet, none of them knew the truth behind your shy demeanor, the cynical smirk that tugged at your lips as you read their words.

With each stroke, the lights of the dildo grew more intense, painting your face with a rainbow of pleasure. Your body began to respond, your hips moving in a gentle rhythm that grew more urgent with each passing moment. You knew the act well, the dance of a siren luring sailors to their doom. You were their obsession, their escape from the mundane.

The sound of your wetness filled the room, mingling with your soft moans. It was a symphony of lust, each note a declaration of your power. You watched the chat, eyes flickering from one message to the next. Their words were a drug, a sweet poison that made you feel alive.

You began to rock your hips, the toy sliding in and out with increasing speed. "Is Daddy proud of me?" You whimpered, your voice a siren's call. The chat exploded, each tip a declaration of their adoration. You felt their desire, a palpable force that seemed to tighten around you, squeezing out every last drop of your inhibition.

"Oh, Daddy," you moaned, the pleasure building, the lights from the dildo casting a glow across your face. "You make me feel so... dirty." The words were like honey, sweet and thick with meaning. You watched the chat, the screen a blur of tips and messages, each one more desperate than the last.

The toy slammed into you now, the plastic thud echoing through the room. Your hands were a blur, moving in a rhythm that was almost violent. The sensation was overwhelming, the lights pulsing with your heartbeat. You could feel yourself getting closer, the orgasm a tidal wave just beyond the horizon.

Mr.WhiteCoat: Yes, PixelBunny, take it another inch deeper.

C.Pilot: so good baby. take it all for me.

R.tist!c: like youre riding my cock baby

Syl.Draconia: Mines bigger than that silly toy Bunny.

X-Devoted: Make sure u wont hurt urself

Their commands fueled you, pushing you closer to the edge. You took the toy out and licked it clean, the taste of yourself making your eyes roll back.

"Daddy, I need more," you whimpered, dropping the dildo to the floor. Slowly, you turned around to face the camera and present yourself on the chair. Your hand snaked into your g-string, your fingers finding your clit. "Is Daddy going to make me cum?"

Mr.WhiteCoat: Play with yourself more, BunnyPixel. Show us how much you want it.

C.Pilot: spread those legs wider, let me see everything.

R.tist!c: i want to see that pretty pussy swollen with desire for me

Syl.Draconia: You know you want it bunny. Take it all.

X-Devoted: Ure so greedy, arent you, Bunny? But Daddy loves that about you

Their words were a siren's song that you couldn't ignore. You spread your legs wider, the fabric of your g-string stretching tightly over your swollen clit. You watched the chat as your fingers began to dance across your folds, the wetness of your pussy glistening in the soft glow of the lights.

"Look at how wet I am for you, Daddies," you breathed into the microphone, the sound of your voice sending a shiver through your body. Your thumb circled your clit, the sensation making your toes curl. "Do you like watching me play?"

The chat erupted in a symphony of affirmations, their digital applause filling your ears. You felt a strange sense of belonging, a thrill that came from being the object of their desire. It was a power trip, one that you were all too eager to indulge in.

With a wicked grin, you picked up the dildo again, the lights pulsing to the beat of the music that played in the background. "Alright, Daddies," you said, your voice a mix of sweetness and seductive challenge. "Who wants to see how fast I can make this little toy disappear?"

The chat went wild as you positioned the dildo at your entrance, the coldness a stark contrast to the heat that had built up within you. You pushed it in, the lights dancing on your skin as you took it all in one go, the tip brushing against your cervix. You gasped, the sensation intense and overwhelming. The chat exploded in a flurry of tips and messages, each one more eager than the last to claim a piece of you.

Mr.WhiteCoat: Bravo, PixelBunny. You’re so good at taking what you’re given.

C.Pilot: fuck yes. just like that. you're mine baby.

R.tist!c: a true masterpiece in motion

Syl.Draconia tipped 1000 credits: If its my cock filling you up, youd scream louder than that.

X-Devoted: So obedient. So perfect

You watched the tips climb, feeling a thrill at their desperation. "Is Daddy proud?" You asked, your voice a needy whine as you began to pump the dildo in and out of yourself. The lights reflected off the sweat that had begun to form on your skin, casting a glow around your body.

The chat was a blur of usernames and dollar signs, a testament to your power over these men. You felt a twinge of guilt, a tiny voice that whispered they didn't know the real you, that you were playing a role. But the rush of power was too great, the thrill of their desire too potent to resist.

You began to moan, the sound echoing through your headphones. The camera captured every inch of you, every bead of sweat, every gasp of pleasure. It was a dance of seduction, a performance honed over countless nights in front of the lens.

The chat was a furor of commands, each one more demanding than the last. But you were in control. You knew just how to play them, how to keep them on the edge of their seats. With each stroke, you felt their eyes on you, their thoughts wrapped around your body like a second skin.

"Oh, Daddy," you whimpered, the dildo moving faster now, the lights blurring together into a rainbow of ecstasy. "I'm so close." The chat exploded in a frenzy of tips once more, each one a declaration of war for your pleasure.

You felt yourself getting closer, your breath coming in ragged gasps. Your hand moved faster, the dildo a blur as it plunged into your pussy. Your other hand gripped the arm of the chair, knuckles white with the effort of holding back. Its creak was a silent protest against the relentless pace of the dildo, creating a lewd harmony along with the squelching of your pussy around the glowing, bumpy, glass phallus.

"I'm... I'm gonna cum," you whispered, your voice shaking with need. The chat was a sea of fire emojis, a digital inferno of desire. You could almost feel their eyes on you, their hands moving in time with yours, imagining it was their cocks that filled you so completely.

The lights grew brighter, pulsing in time with your heartbeat. It was as if the room was alive, a living entity that feasted on your pleasure. Your walls tightened around the dildo, a silent plea for more, for harder, for deeper. The glass felt like fire in your hand, a tool of your own making that you wielded with expert precision.

Mr.WhiteCoat: Yes, baby, keep going. You’re on the 496th pump and counting.

C.Pilot: that’s it slut. give it to me.

R.tist!c tipped 1500 credits: youd be more beautiful painted with my cum

Syl.Draconia tipped 300 credits: Youre so pretty when youre full of me.

X-Devoted tipped 500 credits: Ure perfect… my little whore

You threw your head back, your mouth open in a silent scream. The chat was a blur of lewd comments and demands, a symphony of desire that seemed to crescendo with every stroke. You felt their eyes on you, their hunger a palpable force that pushed you closer to the edge. The room was spinning, the lights a kaleidoscope of pleasure that painted the walls of your reality.

Your orgasm hit like a tidal wave, crashing over you with the force of a thousand suns. You screamed into the microphone, the sound echoing through the room. The camera captured every twitch of your body, every spasm of pleasure that racked your frame. The chat exploded in a cacophony of tips and messages, each one a declaration of victory.

Mr.WhiteCoat: Beautiful, PixelBunny. Drink water to hydrate.

C.Pilot: I’d breed that little cunt like the bunny you are.

R.tist!c: fuck youre an artwork

Syl.Draconia: Good girl.

X-Devoted tipped 750 credits: Look how swollen your clit is

As the wave of pleasure receded, you slumped in the chair, panting heavily. Your body was a wreck, a plaything used and discarded. But there was no regret, only satisfaction. You had done your job, played your role to perfection. The tips kept rolling in, a testament to your power, to your ability to manipulate and control.

Mr.WhiteCoat: That was exquisite, PixelBunny. You pumped twenty-three times more tonight than the last stream.

C.Pilot tipped 2000 credits: you're so fucking perfect, you’re gonna make me cum on my keyboard.

R.tist!c: i want to capture that moment forever

Syl.Draconia: You never disappoint pet.

X-Devoted: Such a good little bunny letting us watch

You took a moment to catch your breath, the sweat cooling on your skin as you surveyed the chat. The room was bathed in the glow of the pastel lights, a soft symphony of colors that seemed to pulse with the aftermath of your climax. The usernames swirled like a kaleidoscope, each one a reminder of the men who had claimed a piece of you.

Mr.WhiteCoat: Take off the g-string. Let us see you completely bare.

C.Pilot: you’re so responsive baby. I bet you’d scream if I was the one fucking you.

R.tist!c: i wish i could paint the way you look right now because your pussy is an art form

Syl.Draconia: Youre so open, so inviting. It makes me want to take you right here, right now.

X-Devoted: Good girl. Show me whats mine

With trembling hands, you slowly pulled the g-string to the side, fingers gliding to spread your swollen labia—exposing your clit to the cool air. The chat erupted in a symphony of desire, a crescendo of tips that sang your praises. You felt a thrill, a dark pleasure in knowing you had them all at your mercy.

Mr.WhiteCoat: Perfect. Just like that.

C.Pilot: so wet, so needy. who’s going to fill you up next?

R.tist!c: thats the look of a well-fucked muse

Syl.Draconia: Your pussy is begging for it.

X-Devoted: Remember, ure mine

You began to toy with yourself again, the dildo forgotten on the floor. Your hand moved with a newfound confidence, a silent challenge to the men watching you. You knew they were all thinking of themselves, of how they'd make you scream if they had the chance. But you were the one in control here, the one pulling the strings of their desires.

Mr.WhiteCoat: I want to see those breasts bounce, PixelBunny.

C.Pilot: play with those perfect tits.

R.tist!c: the way your titties jiggle is like watching a masterpiece come to life

Syl.Draconia: Show us your tits slut.

X-Devoted: Only for me my greedy little bunny

You leaned forward, your tits spilling out of the lingerie. Your nipples were hard peaks, begging for attention. You pinched them lightly, watching the chat for their reactions. The messages grew more frantic, a silent battle for your focus.

Mr.WhiteCoat tipped 300 credits: You’re shaking, PixelBunny. Just relax.

C.Pilot: pinch them harder, make them beg for mercy.

R.tist!c: oh baby thats the picture id sell for a fortune

Syl.Draconia: I want to feel those nipples between my teeth.

X-Devoted: Ure such a good slut for me

The room was a whirlwind of lewdness, a tornado of desire that you were at the center of. You felt a strange mix of fear and excitement, knowing that any of these men could be watching you from the shadows of your real life, and could be closer than you ever imagined.

Mr.WhiteCoat: Make yourself come again, PixelBunny. Show us how many times you can come tonight.

C.Pilot: I want to see you squirt for me baby.

R.tist!c: youre like a living, breathing fantasy

Syl.Draconia: Imagine its my tongue on you licking you clean while you squirt.

X-Devoted: Ure going to come for me arent you?

With a shiver, you focused on the task at hand. You began to rub your clit in slow circles, the sensation sending shockwaves through your overstimulated body. Your nipples tightened further as you pinched and twisted them, the pain adding a delicious edge to the pleasure.

Mr.WhiteCoat: Faster, Bunny. Make it count.

C.Pilot: so pretty when you're desperate.

R.tist!c: i want your juices mixed with paint

Syl.Draconia: So close bunny. Give us what we want.

X-Devoted: Be careful not to fall on the floor

The second orgasm built slowly, a crescendo of pleasure that you couldn't ignore. Each touch of your fingers was a declaration of war, a battle for dominance that you were determined to win. The chat was a blur of praises and commands, but you were in control. This was your show, your performance, your moment of power.

Mr.WhiteCoat: Yes, baby. Just like that.

C.Pilot: I can almost taste you Bunny.

R.tist!c: your body is a masterpiece

Syl.Draconia: Soon youll be screaming for me.

X-Devoted: Ure mine to use little slut

With a final, desperate push, you came, your body arching off the chair as your juices arced in the air—subsequently soiling your chair and the floor. The camera captured every twitch, every shiver of pleasure. The chat exploded in a flurry of tips, each one a declaration of victory. You panted, your chest heaving as you watched the numbers climb, the power of your own sexuality laid bare before you.

Mr.WhiteCoat: Beautiful, baby. Simply breathtaking.

C.Pilot: that was so fucking hot. you're incredible

R.tist!c: the way you come is like watching the universe unfold

Syl.Draconia tipped 1500 credits: Thats my slut. Ill give you a taste of my cock soon.

X-Devoted: Good girl

As the waves of pleasure receded, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. These men didn't just want to watch you; they wanted to own you. The thought sent a thrill down your spine, a mix of fear and excitement that you couldn't quite place.

You knew you had to keep them at bay, keep your real life separate from this digital playground. But as the tips continued to flow and the chat demanded more, you couldn't help but wonder if the line had already been crossed.

If they had already claimed a part of you that you couldn't take back.

— ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ —

You overslept.

The kind of oversleep that left mascara smudged in the corner of your eyes and thigh-high sock marks ghosting along your skin. Your alarm had gone off four times—each one silenced by a sleepy, swollen hand that still smells faintly of coconut oil and shame.

You’re not sore exactly. You're ruined.

Tender. Overfilled. Buzzing like your favorite toy never turned off. Your vibrator still under the pillow—taunting you like the whore you were last night. Your apartment smelled like artificial strawberries, lube, and desperation.

And your phone? Oh, bunny.

47 unread messages.

Syl.Draconia: Your audio peaked at 2:14:37. I liked that sound.

Mr. WhiteCoat: You should ice your thighs today. Hydration report pending.

X-Devoted: Still think about how u moaned my name last. Be good today

C.Pilot: saved the vod. watching it again before my morning meeting.

R.tist!c: i want to paint you mid-climax ill need the raw footage

You deleted none of them.

Your thighs stuck together as you rolled onto your side, squinting at the soft morning light bleeding through cheap blinds.

7:48 AM. Your café shift started at 7:00.

You groaned, dragging yourself out of bed. Your bunny headset laid discarded on the floor like a casualty, tangled with the cord of the bullet toy that made you scream so loud you had to bite the pillow. The heart-shaped toy from last night was still blinking faintly on the nightstand—taunting you. Judging you.

You’re still wearing the cropped cardigan. Nothing underneath. Just a smear of dried gloss on the collar and a suspicious hickey where your neck met the webcam’s frame.

— ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ —

You yanked on your barista apron with the grace of a drunken octopus, hair still smelling like body spray and cum-adjacent perfume, cheeks flushed with residual shame. The “CUP O' SUNSHINE!” logo stared at you like a passive-aggressive middle finger. A wrinkled pair of jeans hugged your thighs fine—inside out. No time to fix it. No bra.

Your thighs sticked slightly as you walked, the aftermath of being toyed open for hours, edged to oblivion and backed by faceless men who knew the sound of your moans better than your coworkers knew your name.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket with unread messages. The same five names.

X-Devoted: Did u eat yet baby?

Mr. WhiteCoat: You should’ve hydrated more. You lost a lot of fluids.

C.Pilot: when’s your break? I’ll call you.

R.tist!c: sketching the way your thighs shook

Syl.Draconia: You looked perfect on your knees.

You groaned and shoved it in your boring, beige, canvas tote bag.

Outside, the bus screeched past your stop without a single care for your state of existential hangover. You missed it by six goddamn seconds.

"Fuck you, rush hour,” you panted, trying to speed-walk without waddling. Your thighs screamed. Your lower back protested. You're ninety percent sure there was still some faux hickey ink blooming under your collarbone in the shape of a painted thumbprint.

Then the subway ride was hell. You shifted on the plastic seat with a soft hiss, cursing your post-stream sensitivity. The train lurched and your sore cunt clenched involuntarily. You could only bite your lip and pray no one noticed your discomfort.

When you clocked in, the coffee shop was already packed. You're over an hour late and reeking of vanilla lotion and unsanctioned orgasms.

Your workplace was aggressively normal. Neutral-toned hell. A cozy café chain squashed between a vape shop and a dentist’s office. The fluorescent lights buzzed like judging aunts. The espresso machine wheezed like a dying horse.

“Nice of you to join us,” your manager—Lysander—muttered, tossing you a stained dish towel and a name tag that read PIXEL. You didn’t bother to correct him. You were too busy hiding the fact that you forgot underwear.

You forced a smile. The same one you used on camera. “Sorry! Long night.”

As you staggered toward the counter, last night kept crashing back in wet waves.

After the ‘normal stream’—you on all fours, bouncing on a glass dildo while holding a printed-out chatlog to your chest like a script from hell.

“I-I’m gonna come again if you keep saying that, please—please don’t make me—!”

And them—ULTRA VIP chat exploding, all five usernames watching you fall apart like a perfectly wound toy snapping loose.

Syl.Draconia: Youre not allowed to finish until I say so.

X-Devoted: Slower. Hold eye contact. Now beg

Mr. WhiteCoat: Apply pressure to your clit. Precisely three fingers. That’s right.

C.Pilot: fuck, you’re gonna make me blow in my headset.

R.tist!c: cry for me, let me paint it from memory

You had collapsed into a moaning mess while the private chat was filled with tips, voice notes and possessive claims. You came so hard you nearly dislocated your mic stand.

And now here you were—Pixel Bunny’s shadow, stripped of pastel lights, lace, and fake moans. Fresh graduate, still buried in student debts, living alone, half-fucked out, and working the register for caffeine-deprived Karens and stoners.

Taking someone’s half-skim oat milk latte with a fake smile and shaky hands, your body still twitching with phantom overstimulation, your panties still sitting in a tipped-over laundry basket, and your cunt still slick from ghosts of last night’s sins.

You slapped a paper cup onto the counter like a half-dead soldier. Your bones ached. Your legs felt like overcooked noodles. You were seconds away from collapsing into the espresso grounds when you heard it:

“Medium latte. One pump vanilla.”

You didn’t look up at first. You were too busy auto-piloting through your camgirl trauma, but something about the voice made you pause.

It’s… calm and smooth. Measured.

You glanced up and your breath caught mid-exhale.

He was tall. Easily six feet. Fair-skinned and silver-haired, the kind of anime-protagonist-just-transferred-to-your-school handsome that would normally make you roll your eyes. His white sweater looked soft, expensive, the kind of thing someone would wear just to make you think about how good it would feel brushing against your thighs. His pants were dark, tailored. Hands tucked casually into the pockets.

And his eyes. Blue. Not icy—glacial.

Like he sees straight through you, and hasn’t decided if you’re prey… or his.

You swallowed. “N-name for the order?”

His head tilted slightly as he studied you for a second, gaze lingering for a beat on the upside-down nametag stuck above your chest.

“…Xavier.”

Your hand trembled around the Sharpie. You barely managed to scrawl the name on the cup, your brain already conjuring the worst possibilities.

X-Devoted. No. No. It’s just a common name. It’s fine. You’re fine, you’re just sleep-deprived and overstimulated.

You slid the cup toward the espresso machine and forced your voice steady. “It’ll be right up. Um. X-Xavier.”

His lips twitched. Not a smile. Just a flicker—barely there.

“Thank you,” he said, quietly.

Xavier turned to wait at the other end of the counter, hands still in his pockets. Posture straight. Like he was listening.

You sneaked one more glance as you started the order. He was staring at the pastries now. Or the board. Or maybe the reflection in the glass. You couldn’t tell.

But the prickle on the back of your neck said: be careful.

[bytemee]

crying on stream (not clickbait) — yu jimin.

synopsis. you really need to stop playing random horrors at 2 am.

pairing. karina x gn!streamer!reader

warning(s). reader cries at a horror game, emotional support gf karina, this is so silly and sweet, let me know if there's more

words. 639

authors note. 1/2 drafts im posting tn before all the freaky stuff and angst floods my page. this is also based off this tiktok i saw

masterlist. navigation.

you had no idea why you thought playing a horror game at 2 a.m. was a good idea—especially with karina asleep in the next room. but here you were, curled up in your chair, gripping your keyboard like your life depended on it. your chat was loving every second, spamming laughing emojis and "you're so cooked" messages.

then, it happened.

the door behind your character slammed shut. the screen flickered. a deep, guttural noise rumbled through your headphones.

you froze. your breath caught in your throat, hands hovering over the controls, but you could not bring yourself to move.

"no, no, no, no, no..." you whispered, barely making a sound.

username LMAOOO YOU'RE SO DONE username WHY AREN'T YOU MOVING HELLO?? username NAH THIS IS BAD 😂

your fingers twitched over the keys, but before you could even think about getting out—

the screen went completely black.

your headphones crackled. a distorted whisper slithered through the speakers, low and scratchy, like something breathing right into your ear. then, for half a second, the lights in the game flickered back on—

the killer was right behind you.

you slammed the pause button.

your whole body locked up, muscles so tight it felt like you might pass out. chat was going insane, but their messages barely registered.

you couldn't scream. not with karina asleep. you couldn't even let out a proper gasp.

instead, a quiet sob slipped out before you could stop it.

you pressed a hand over your mouth, shoulders shaking as you tried to breathe. tears welled up, but you blinked fast, trying to keep yourself together.

username ARE YOU CRYING BRO?? username NAH THIS GAME REALLY BROKE THEM username this is so sad but funny at the same time 😭😭😭

after a few deep breaths, you forced yourself to unpause.

you needed to get out.

with shaky hands, you turned the lights back on, unlocked the door, and ran. the second you stepped out of that room, you ripped your hands off the keyboard, dropping them into your lap as a deep exhale left you. a few stray tears slipped down your face, and you wiped them away, sniffling.

"oh my god," you muttered, still feeling the adrenaline in your veins.

then—

a tap on your shoulder.

you screamed.

the fear you'd been barely holding in came crashing down all at once. you flinched so hard your chair almost tipped over, another choked sob slipping out as you panicked.

your chat lost their minds.

username HELPPPP username THAT WAS NOT THE GAME?? username DID Y'ALL SEE THEIR SOUL LEAVE THEIR BODY username I THINK THEY JUST DIED IRL

then came the worst part—a soft, familiar laugh.

your head snapped to the side, eyes wide as you saw karina standing there, looking impossibly amused despite being fresh out of sleep. dress in your an oversized hoodie, her hair a little messy, she smiled at you before shaking her head.

"you're so dramatic," she whispered, barely containing her giggles.

you didn't even have the energy to argue. Without thinking, you reached for her, pulling her into a hug off-camera. she easily melted into you, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and resting her chin on your head.

username WHO IS THAT???? 😳

username WE CAN SEE THE SHADOW WTF username THE WAY THEY JUST WENT SILENT TO HUG THE AIR LIKE BFFR

karina ran her hand up and down your back, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before whispering, "you okay?"

you nodded against her shoulder. "i hate this game."

she snorted. "then stop playing horror games at night, hm?"

you sniffled. "never."

she sighed, but she didn't let go. for a while, you just stayed there—holding onto her, ignoring chat's growing curiosity, letting your heartbeat finally slow down. eventually, she whispered, "wanna sleep now?"

you exhaled. "yeah."

with a final squeeze, she pulled back and grabbed your hand, and you turned back to your stream, rubbing your eyes before clearing your throat.

"alright, chat," you muttered, voice still wobbly. "i'm ending stream. i need therapy."

the last thing chat saw before you disconnected was your teary eyes, ruffled hair, and hand out of frame, fingers curled like you were holding onto something—someone.

then, you were gone.

[tatzelbookwurm]

So uhh. . . I recently got access to a college library system again and for whatever reason (that reason is a ghost obsession. Or rather, an obsession with a particular half ghost), I thought to myself, "You should look up Danny Phantom and see if anyone has referenced it in a scholarly article." And apparently this exists:

Grant, Krista, “Canon” and “Fanon” in the Danny Phantom/Detective Comics (Dc) Comics Crossover Fandom: Expanding Authorship and Authority in Transformative Fan Works. Available at SSRN: https://ssrn.com/abstract=4894061 or http://dx.doi.org/10.2139/ssrn.4894061

Abstract

In 2020, a new crossover fandom emerged, that of Danny Phantom x DC Comics (DPxDC), prompting thousands of fanfictions and participants. As neither media connected in their canons, how did this crossover fandom come to be? The content tags on these crossover fanfictions and on Tumblr posts collected Jan–April, 2024 were collected and analyzed in a mixed-methods discourse analysis approach with inductive coding for key words “canon” and “fanon”. This is the first time for which a crossover fandom is being investigated in writing studies, and it is one of the first articles to explore fanfiction within writing studies, especially in a mixed methods study. Underpinning this research are grassroots activism, critical theory, and agential theories of resistance practices. I found that DPxDC fans consciously resist canon material, enacting agency through distributed and communal writing practices and claiming a kind of authorship and authority over works, offering a new way of understanding agency and distributed authorship in writing studies.

Keywords: distributed authorship, writing studies, fanfiction, canon, fanon

I haven't finished reading it all yet, but if you've been active in the DPxDC phandom for a few years, you might be cited. Just saying, I recognize a few familiar usernames already.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

hii, can I request a ninth member fic where the reader is on live and gets comment saying that she should kill herself or leave the group? maybe she’s like oh yeah haha maybe I should and acts fine but likes it’s obvious she’s not. and like the boys are watching the live and are like frick no. (can she be aged between Felix and seungmin js so that it’s like she’s younger than most)

Sorry for such the late response!!!

You started the live like any other night - too tired to think straight, too loyal to Stay to skip it.

The camera lit up in your bedroom, the soft fairy lights casting a golden blur behind your head.

You were still in your dance hoodie, bangs a little damp with sweat, sleeves pulled over your fingers. You offered the lens a soft smile and waved.

“Hi, loves,” you whispered, voice hoarse from practice. “I missed you all.”

Comments rushed in instantly - fast, excited, familiar. You leaned closer to read them, smile softening as usernames you recognized flew past.

“she’s glowing even in low light 😭” “queen of killing me with one look” “what did you eat today 🥺 tell usss” "how does she look so majestic even when shes tired" "ONE CHANCE PLEASE ONE CHANCE" "she makes me question my sexuality" "did you eat anything yummy today?"

You laughed a little. “Does electrolyte water count? I forgot to eat until, like, fifteen minutes ago, but my water was lemon flavored.”

You leaned closer to the camera as you placed both your hands around your warm mug, answering comments softly.

"A lot of you are talking about exam season. I hope you guys are studying well."

Heart emojis exploded in response. You settled back against your pillows, sipping tea, doing your best to focus on the warmth in the chat - not the emptiness in your chest.

It had been going on for a few weeks now. After a Princes and Princess themed photoshoot, where you took swoon worthy romantic pictures with not just one, but all the boys, hate had started to become very obvious.

It wasn't like there was anything of the sort going on. The people at the magazine just wanted something to stir up publicity.

But it also stirred up an already wavering fanbase.

Your last-minute addition to Stray Kids debut lineup a long while ago had taken some getting used to for a lot of Stay who had followed them pre-debut. Years later and some people still viewed your position in the group as odd. And one silly photoshoot seemed to backtrack any progress you had made with the fans.

You had been used to seeing hate when you had stalked the web with your fake account.

But it had never been as bad as it had been now.

You tried to shake that feeling, take another sip of tea-

Then it hit.

A comment so sharp, so immediate, it felt like your stomach dropped through the floor.

“you should just kill yourself and stop embarrassing the rest of skz. no one wants you here anyway.”

You froze mid-sip. The mug clinked too hard when you set it down.

You stared at the screen - not even blinking - until your face started to go numb, you could tell your cheeks were painted pink.

“Oh,” you said, too softly. “Wow.” You swallowed. "Chat is getting a little spicy, no?"

You laughed. A little. Just once. But couldn't help see the other comments that agreed with it.

Then you tilted your head and smiled, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Well…maybe they’ve got a point,” you said lightly. “Maybe I should leave. It's not like I haven't thought about it before. Just a matter of whether or not its permanent.” You gave another laugh, not even sure why you felt the need to add that on.

The comments hadn't been affecting you that harshly...had they?

As you zoned out and ran through what you said once more you realized that-

Yeah. Maybe they had been. For too long too. Like some sort of erosion. Slowly chipping away at me, but unnoticeably until a strong gust of wind showed me just how deep these things had dug down to...

The chat stalled for a second - long enough for some fans to panic, for others to laugh, for a few to flood the screen with

NO NO NO STOP what did she just say?? wait what happened?? someone translate is she okay?

But you waved it off.

“I’m kidding,” you said, voice too high, too smooth, too practiced. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”

You kept going - talked about music, a new movie you wanted to see, made a joke about Lee Know being the your food police- but something in you had already curled up and gone quiet.

You ended the live with a heart and a too-bright smile.

“Love you,” you said. “Be safe, okay?”

And the moment the screen went black, your smile cracked clean in half.

Somewhere away from you they were already watching.

The boys had gathered all together in Chan's dorm to watch your live. They saw you as family, and like the 8 supportive brothers they were, they had to see what you talked about. Joking and placing bets on who you'd throw under the bus this week, what embarrassing little secret you'd laugh about, what had been your favorite memory you had created since last speaking with Stay.

The second you said those words - soft and sarcastic and deadly - Chan’s heart had dropped.

“Go back, can you go back?” he said, standing up.

"It's a live Hyung, of course we can't." Jisung murmured, itching his hand in nervousness.

Seungmin was already reaching for his phone on the other side of the room, planning to call you. Hyunjin sat up slowly, blinking at the TV screen like he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.

“She didn’t mean that,” Jeongin said, quiet. “Right?”

“She's not the type to say it to be funny,” Felix whispered. “She meant it.”

“She’s still alone at the company, right?” Changbin was already on his feet, grabbing a hoodie. “I’m calling the manager.”

“No,” Chan said. “No calls. We’re going. Now.”

The studio was quiet.

You hadn’t moved since the live ended. The laptop sat closed on your desk. A mahogany one Hyunjin said fit the aesthetic of your mini studio. Paired with a futon you sometimes crashed on. Also, courtesy if Hyunjin. Your mug of tea was still half-full, forgotten. You sat on your swivel chair, your knees to your chest, hoodie sleeves bunched around your fists, staring at the dark screen like it might answer the question you couldn’t voice:

Why does it hurt this much?

You didn’t cry. You didn’t even breathe too hard. You just sat there, hollowed out by the weight of something you couldn’t name.

You didn’t hear the frantic knocking. Or the bang of Changbin and Chris' shoulders into the door, more or less breaking the lock.

You didn’t hear the footsteps, the whispered voices, the way someone dropped keys on the floor in their rush to get to you.

You only looked up when someone wrapped their arms around you, the familiar smell of vanilla extract and laundry detergent jumpstarting you.

You peeked out from over Felix's embrace, Chan the first one you noticed, face pale, shoulders tense, still in the doorway. Behind him were the rest of your members. Your family.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “Can we come in?”

You opened your mouth to say yes, but nothing came out.

So he stepped in anyway.

And they followed.

They moved you over to the futon, Hyunjin sitting at the edge, Seungmin dropped onto the floor, Han and Jeongin hovering near your desk, the first one's chin quivering, the latter's eyes watery. Minho and Changbin joining Seungmin on the ground and Chan embracing you along with Felix.

Felix sat next to you, his hand brushing yours.

“Why didn’t you call one of us?” he asked, voice so gentle it nearly broke you.

You looked away. “It wasn’t that serious.”

“Y/N,” Chan said, soft but firm. “You said you should leave. On live. With thousands of people watching.”

“I was kidding.”

“No, you weren’t,” Seungmin said. “We know your voice better than that.”

Silence.

"I'm fine-"

"Noona, you won't hurt yourself will you." The heaviness that followed Jeongin's watery voice told you all you needed to know about how to answer that heavy question. You looked up and saw his fox like guys looking at you expectantly, a heartbroken pout on his lips.

And then it cracked.

“I’m just so tired,” you cried. “Of pretending. Of acting like all the hate doesn’t get to me.” You shook in Felix and Chan's embrace, Felix crying along with you.

Which then propelled Han into water works as well.

“You could have told us,” Han said through his sobs launching himself haphazardly at you somehow managing to knee Minho in the chin. "You're our baby." He said petting your head. "We're horrible fathers." He cried. "Horrible."

You knew you were hurting when you couldn't even manage a laugh at Seungmin's response to Han's dramatics.

“I don’t want to be the reason we get hate. I don’t want fans to leave because I’m in the group. I already get told every day that I’m just here to ruin it and it seems like it's just getting worse-”

“Then they’re not fans,” Hyunjin snapped, placing his hand on your knee, or doing his best to as Jisung was still laid over you. “They don’t get to call themselves Stay if they treat you like that.”

You blinked, startled at his sharp tone.

“He's right.” Seungmin said, softer than you'd ever heard him speak. “You’re not some extra. You’re my noona. You taught me how to harmonize. And held my hand during our first concert even if I told you not too. You- you...you were the first person who made me realize my smile was beautiful because even if people hated it, it was born from countless memories with you."

Jeongin spoke next. "You're my noona too. You were the first person to call me talented when I thought I wasn’t. The first one who told the world I was more then just a cute face or a spoiled maknae. You made me realize what it truly meant to believe in myself.”

You opened your mouth - and then closed it, because what do you say to that? You tried blinking away your tears and then Minho spoke.

"You’ve always been the one holding all of us together," he said, his voice low, almost reverent. "You cheer for us when no one else does. You see the things we don’t even notice about ourselves. It’s about time someone saw you, too."

Changbin’s hand reached for yours.

“You make this group better,” he said. “More complete. I don’t even want to imagine Stray Kids without you. And I won’t.. None of us will.”

Felix sighed. “Do you know how many times I’ve wanted to quit? How many times I thought I was dragging everyone down?”

You looked at him. He nodded.

“I may seem happy. We all may seem happy but we struggle to. And then you come around. And you smile. And we stay.”

You choked on a breath.

“We’re a team,” Chan said with finality. “We rise together. We fall together. And if you ever - ever - feel like disappearing again…”

He paused. Voice thick.

“Take me with you.”

You stared.

“All of us,” Minho added. “If you go, we go. That’s how this works.”

Something cracked inside your chest.

And then, finally- finally - you broke completely and utterly.

Tears welled in your eyes, hot and fast, and your face crumpled as you tried to bite it back. But all the guys were already jumping into the embrace, 8 strong arms keeping you steady, 8 sets of tears being added to your own.

They didn’t say anything else.

They didn’t need to.

They just held you - as if their touch alone could glue the pieces of you that you hadn't even noticed were breaking back together.

And maybe it could.

The night was long. None of them left your studio.

When you finally slept - curled under three blankets Seungmin had finessed from a storage room and two members - your last thought was that maybe, just maybe, you’d be okay.

But the next morning, when you woke to bright fluorescents and shuffling of productive activities, you realized the dull ache behind your eyes still lingered, the pit in your stomach remained.

Until Chan quietly placed a warm mug in your hand and sat beside you.

“We’re going live,” he said, brushing your hair back with a gentle hand. “As a group. We’re going to talk about it. All of it."

You didn’t ask what "it" was. You knew.

You hesitated. “Should I be there?”

He smiled - not the leader-smile, the brotherly one. The one that showed up when you were hurting.

“No,” he said gently, still messing with your hair. “Not if it’ll hurt more. We’ve got this. You just rest okay? We'll get you something to eat and change into.”

You nodded, blinking too fast.

But deep down, you already knew you’d watch it live.

Later that afternoon, after you somehow found your way back to the dorms, you got the notification.

📢 [Stray Kids (9)] LIVE: A Message to Stay 💬

The chat exploded before the stream even began.

You watched from your bed, phone glowing in your palm, heart pounding.

When the screen lit up, the boys were seated tightly on the couch - all eight of them.

You found yourself chuckling.

Typical of them to not know what personal space is.

Although their usual chaos was gone.

This was serious.

And the chat seemed to pick up on it quickly.

Well, the majority of it at least.

A few familiar users seemed to be completley oblivious to the tone of the meeting.

Chan looked straight into the camera.

“Hi, Stay. We’re going to be really honest with you. You all know we joke a lot. We play around. But this isn’t that kind of live.”

He took a breath. "As most of you know, something happened during Y/N’s solo live yesterday. You probably saw it - or at least heard about it., as things tend to escalate rather quickly.”

"For those who don't know there was a comment. A really bad one. And it hurt her. Deeply. Ther have been multiple comments, and much hate going around.”

“And we’re here to make sure you understand that that is never okay.”

"Stray Kids debuted planned to debut as eight. Then became nine. That wasn’t a marketing move. That was a decision - one we made together.”

"We. Are. Nine."

The sharpness in his voice seemed to cease the majority of the comments in the chat. Some people scolding others, others saying they felt as if they were in trouble even if they didn't post any hate.

Felix spoke next.

“She didn’t audition to be loved by everyone. Not one of us did. But we are a family. And she is part of us. She makes us stronger. She works harder than anyone I know. And the idea that someone would tell her to-”

His voice cracked. He looked away for a second.

Chan took over once more. “There are thousands of comments. Most are positive. But sometimes it only takes one to destroy someone’s day. Or their outlook on things. Or..."

He swallowed. "Or worse."

He waited a moment before speaking again.

“If you're a Stay, you protect, not harm because that’s what fandom is supposed to be. A place to love each other and uplift."

“To everyone who reached out with kindness, to those who reported that comment, who showed love - thank you. You continue to remind us why we do this, and we love you for that."

"But more need to be done to make sure this never happens again. Not just to her. To anyone. If you don’t like one of us, that’s your opinion. But if you wish harm on someone, you’re not Stay. And that goes for any fandom you belong to. You are not a fan if you can't love and appreciate what everyone contributes. If you can't set aside you opinions for that. This isn’t about canceling anyone. This is about protecting each other.”

All the boys nodded.

"She's our family. A sister. And we do everything to protect family." Changbin said.

"She is special to each and every one of us, and if you can't respect that you can leave." Minho said sharply.

"Because of yesterday's incidents, we've come to the agreement to cancel our upcoming schedules." Chan said suddenly.

The chat became frantic, and your eyes were wide as you leaned in closer to your phone.

"If you want one of us to leave then we all leave. Simple." Chan said firmly. "Until that lesson can be learned this is what is right to do. Any more hate spread will have legal action followed. We stand firm in these decisions."

The chat was still frantic, but the boys didn't care.

"Y/N-ah. We know you're watching." Chan said.

"You’re our little sister." Jisung, Hyunjin, Changbin, Chan, Minho and Felix said.

"Our Noona." Jeongin and Seungmin parroted.

"Our teammate."

"Our light."

"We wouldn’t be here without you.”

“We love you. Not just when you’re strong. Not just when you smile. All the time.”

“You’re enough. Always were.”

“Stay needs to hear us say it, and maybe… you do too.”

“You’re stuck with us forever.”

“Stray Kids is nine.” All the boys said.

“And that will never change.” Chan said, getting up to end the live. "Thank you, Stay. Let’s be better - together.”

[Live Ended]

You shut off your phone with trembling fingers.

You didn’t cry this time.

You smiled. Not a fake one. A small one, real and quiet.

You didn't realize how long you sat there until you heard a soft knock.

"Noona! Can we come in?”

Jeongin's voice. Happy and bright.

You wiped your face, not realizing you had in fact shed tears.

Of relief. Appreciation,

“Of course.”

Because you weren’t scared anymore. You knew where you stood. Who you were to both yourself and the boys you had grown with.

You were no longer scared.

Not today.

Not with them.

Not with Stay.

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

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha @iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric @panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee @shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin @whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun @ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael @skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads @jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld @kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9 @minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg @leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon @night-storm7 @missmajdastark @axel-skz @rockstarkkami @emilyywhyy

[totalswag]

hiii i love your posts!! i was wondering if you could do reader x drew where reader has baby fever and wants a baby and drew finds her upset about it all so they talk and decide that the time is right and they are ready?? lots of fluff please!!

baby fever ⎯ DREW STARKEY!

authors note thank you for the request anon and that makes me smile. i love me some baby fever drew omg. feedback is always appreciated <3.

taglist ✎ ̼ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set to go.

masterlist

summary baby fever coming in hot at a family reunion after seeing drew with your nieces and nephews and you think of what he'd be like with your own children one day. drew finds you in your childhood home upset.

warning(s) baby fever, crying, kissing, mentions of having kids.

You were at a family reunion of yours in your hometown. The reunion was held your parents home⎯full of familiar laughter, little kids running around, and the smell of food being cooked. Everything felt right in this very moment.

Family reunions have been a tradition since you could remember. It allows family to get together once every year and spend time together. Plus, seeing family you haven't seen a long time feels great.

"Can you believe we were once their ages running around?" Your sister pointed out to the kids running around in the grass.

Memories flooded through your mind. The good old times when there were zero worries. Knowing your childhood home still belongs to your parents is such a monumental feeling.

"It's crazy even thinking about it" you respond with a light chuckle.

Your two month old nephew cradled in Drew's arms⎯his eyes scanning his surroundings. Your heart melted witnessing Drew interact with your nephews and nieces all day. It made you think of having a family of your own with him one day.

Drew and you have been married for almost a year. Having kids have been come in almost all your conversations at home. With his busy work schedule, you both agreed to wait a bit. You being the youngest out of your siblings, family is waiting for the announcement.

He’s a natural. You always thought he would be, but seeing it⎯the softness in his eyes, the way he supports your nephews fragile head without even thinking⎯sets something deep inside you alight.

You blink fast, trying to shake the sudden sting behind your eyes. You hadn't expected to feel this way. Not here, not now.

You have baby fever. Bad.

"I'll be right back" you tell Drew and your sister as you lift yourself up from the chair into the house to your childhood bedroom. The tears begin to form once you step up the stairs.

It’s silly, you tell yourself. There's no rush. You and Drew have always agreed you'd "know" when the time was right.

But watching him today, you realize⎯you know. You’re ready. You want it more than anything.

A soft knock is heard from the door. You fix yourself in the mirror before answering. "Who is it?" You make your voice sound normal but a hint of whimper falls through.

"It's me baby, can I come in?" Drew's soft voice says through the door. You reach for the door knob revealing Drew's worried look.

He know's somethings up. You feel it.

"Is everything okay?" Drew asks, "You look like you've been crying," as he slams the door behind him. His anxious countenance and body language tell it everything.

You sniffle, partly laughing and half sobbing. "Yeah, I just⎯" You shake your head, unable to find the right words. "You're... quite excellent with them, you know? "With kids." 

Drew moves closer, placing a soothing hand on your lower back. His palm is warm, drawing you close. Your body relaxes in response to his warm touch. 

"I love them," he says, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "They are your family. Of course, I do.

The room becomes quiet. 

Drew softly turns you to face him, brushing his thumb under your eye, where a tear has escaped. His expression is so open and full of love that it almost brings you to tears again. "I've been thinking the same."

Your heart stutters: "You have?" You ask with wide eyes.

Drew nods: "Yes, I have. Look at us now. We're married, have a lovely home, and have all we could possibly want in love..." He goes on, "There's an extra room waiting to be decorated."

"Here goes the tears again" you playfully joke pointing to them falling down your cheeks. Drew's thumb taps them away. "You look pretty when you cry" he says before pulling you in for a kiss.

You two have your moment together in silence. Knowing he feels the same way as you makes you feel better inside. It's been your forever dream to become a mom one day. You couldn't be more excited than to have kids with Drew.

⎯⎯ my taglist! 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

✰ if you would like to be added to my taglist and be notified whenever i post please let me know in the comments or in my ask box. if there's a line across your name that means i couldn't find your account.

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[rebelliousneferut]

fan frenzy | jude bellingham

summary; when jude's fangirls from borussia dortmund don't love you but things change with your move to madrid

genre; angst, smau

face claim; kaaviya sambasivam

note; English is not my first language

masterlist!

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

yourusername

liked by judebellingham, jobebellingham, username and others

yourusername date night 🌉✨

view comments

username can someone explain to me why is jude dating with her??

username jude is too much for her

username he doesn't even pay attention to her, she's always the one who looks desperate

username he needs someone prettier

username fr

username i wait for the day he opens his eyes

swallowing the bile rising in my throat, I scrolled through the comments on my latest photo. the negativity was a suffocating wave, a stark contrast to the joy we shared in the picture.

dating jude bellingham was a whirlwind from the start. we met in dortmund, sparks flying despite our initial clashes. over time, that spark evolved into a love as powerful and exhilarating as his world-class strikes. jude, with his kind heart and dazzling smile, was a revelation. despite his young age and rising fame, his patience and unwavering affection showed me a love i never thought possible.

living the dream alongside the man i adored shouldn't have come with a price tag. but jude, besides being a phenomenal footballer, also boasted a massive, and sometimes harsh, fanbase. the adoration soon turned towards me, morphing into a relentless stream of negativity. hateful messages, fueled by envy, became a daily torment. i shielded jude, who was blissfully unaware thanks to his social media inactivity. but the constant barrage chipped away at my self-esteem, leaving me questioning every aspect of myself and our relationship.

jude's future was bright, and i convinced myself i was letting him down by being a target. so, with a voice thick with emotion, i began, "jude, i think we should take some time."

his hand shot out, his touch warm against mine. "why do you say that?" he pleaded, his eyes filled with a concern that mirrored my own. "is this about the move? because if it is, we can talk about it. we'll figure it out together, like always."

i shook my head, tears welling up. "it's everything, jude. all the hate, the negativity... i can't take it anymore. i don't want to be the reason you're attacked."

jude's brow furrowed, his expression a mix of determination and tenderness. "who cares what they say? they don't know us, y/n. they don't know the way you light up a room with your smile, or the fire you ignite in my heart. you are strong, kind, and more beautiful than any comment could ever diminish."

he cupped my face in his hands, his touch wiping away a stray tear. "you are the woman i love, the thought of facing anything without you is..." his voice trailed off, his eyes searching mine.

taking a deep breath, i confessed, "the comments... they make me doubt myself, jude. they make me doubt us."

jude's jaw clenched for a moment, then softened. he pulled me into a tight embrace, the warmth of his body a familiar comfort. "we'll face it together," he murmured against my hair. "we'll show them what true love looks like. and if they can't see it, then their opinion doesn't matter. all that matters is you and me."

and i decided to trust him.

"maybe a fresh start in spain would be better," i thought. "maybe they won't hate me there."

the following day, the world woke up to a new post on jude's social media – a photo of us, radiating pure joy.

judebellingham

liked by yourusername, jobebellingham, footballwags and others

judebellingham my rock, my confidante, my love, my y/n. to anyone who has anything negative to say, save your breath. we're happy, and that's all that matters.

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yourusername i love you so much 🥺❤️

❤️ liked by the author

judebellingham i love you more than words can express

username i never understood the hatred towards her, she is beautiful and they make a nice couple

username madrid welcomes you with open arms 🫶🏽

username she makes jude happy and that's all that matters

username i still don't like her

username touch grass

the response was a wave of positivity, drowning out the negativity. the spanish fans, known for their passion, embraced me with open arms. it wasn't an instant fix, but it was a start. jude, by my side, had become my shield, our love a beacon against the darkness. we were in this together, and together, we would face anything.

[sturnioz]

fratboy!chris when he gets word that shy!readers friends have dragged her to a party at a frat house he does not fuck with

dude would still find a way to make a comment about how he literally doesn’t care (him rushing over there, pissed off at the inconvenience, severely contradicts that)

- 🫧

"what is your girl doin' at some other frat party?"

chris barely registers the question over the thumping bass of the rap track pulsing through the speakers and he lifts his head, momentarily distracted from counting crumpled dollar bills he'd made selling drugs all night.

"the fuck are you talkin' about?" chris snaps, his brows knitting together in irritation as nate shoves his phone into chris' line of sight, squinting at the bright screen as it presents an instagram post from your friend with a series of pictures at another frat house. "nah.. nah, s'not her. she's at home. studyin' for some stupid—"

"bro, it's her." nate insists, his voice cutting through chris' denial as he jabs at the screen, a tag of your username popping up on a photo of you in a short, black dress, one that's never seen you wear before.

chris refuses to believe it's you — of course he does.

why the fuck would you be at another frat house when you've always said you don't like parties? he clings to denial like a lifeline, but as nate scrolls to another picture, your face lights up the screen, a small smile gracing your lips beside your friends. it twists something dark and primal in his gut, igniting an anger he can't shake.

a humourless laugh escapes him, bitter and sharp, as he presses his tongue to his cheek and shakes his head in disbelief. he shoves the crumpled dollar bills into his pocket, the sound of his tongue clicking against his teeth echoing his frustration.

"yeah i uh, i don't give a fuck. nah, don't care." he mutters under his breath, but the words feel hollow as he stands up from the couch, his heart pounding in his chest. he sniffs defiantly, grabbing his phone from the armrest with a sense of urgency.

nate raises his brow, "then where are you—"

"shut the fuck up."

he's strides away from his fraternity house, jaw tensed and hands buried deep in his pockets, each step driven by a determination that pulses through him. the closer get gets, the louder the music and chaos of the party become, a mix that only fuels his irritation and subtle worry.

he pushes his way inside, shoving past people who block his path, eyes scanning the room frantically in search of you. familiar faces from his own parties greet — the guys giving casual handshakes and dap-ups, while a few girls giggle and tug at his arm.

he uses their attention to his advantage, pulling them in close, leaning down to whisper your friend's name in their ears, knowing she's the more well-known one out of you both.

they eagerly point him in the right direction, and he shoved them away without a second thought, their surprised gasps fading behind him as he navigates deeper into the crowd of bodies.

as he approaches the kitchen, he spots you and your friend filling up your cups, a smile present on your lips. without hesitation, chris saunters over, invading your personal space so suddenly that it makes you flinch back, nearly spilling your drink.

his hand grips your chin, tilting your head up so he can scrutinise your face, searching for any signs of drugs coursing through your veins.

you blink at him in surprise, confused etched across your features. "oh, what are you—"

"did y'take anythin'?" he cuts you off, voice low and urgent. "someone give you anythin', huh? what have you had? tell me, kid, i swear to god—"

"no, i didn't take anything," you frown softly, your cheeks squished together by his grip. chris exhales deeply through his nose before he finally pushes your head away, causing you to whine softly. "ouch—"

"the fuck do you think you're doin'?" you assume he's talking to you, but your surprise deepens when he turns to face your friend, who looks livid at his sudden appearance. "why're you bringin' her here, huh? are you fuckin' stupid?"

"i'm not going back to your stupid frat house again," your friend hisses, glaring back at him. "your asshole of a frat brother—"

"yeah, i don't give a fuck about what happened between you 'n my frat brothers, alright? 'cos that shit got nothin' to do with me. at all. she—" chris points back at you and you blink innocently, caught in the crossfire. "she got somethin' to do with me, yeah? you don't bring her here, you understand that?"

your friend opens her mouth to argue back, but chris is already pushing you out of the room, his hand pressing firmly against your lower spine as he guides you forward. you remain quiet, chewing your bottom lip nervously as you step outside into the brisk night air, the cold nipping at the bare skin of your arms and legs.

your glance up at chris who walks beside you with a tense jaw, his eyes narrowed at the ground, sniffing angrily.

"are you mad at me, chris?" you ask him softly, a hint of worry threading through your voice.

"nah. nah, not mad at you, kid," chris mumbles, tone gruff as he sucks through his teeth, glancing over at you briefly. he exhales deeply, then moves in front of you, fingers brushing beneath the thin shoulder strap of your dress. "look at you. what're you wearin' this for? never seen this shit before in m'life — got dresses like this lyin' around on the sly or somethin'?"

"it's not mine," you reply quickly, wanting to clarify that it was borrowed from your friend. you take a breath, wanting to address what just happened. "chris—"

"y'look pretty, kid," he interrupts, the compliment tumbling out suddenly. the implication is clear: he does not want to talk about it.

"oh, thank you, but—"

"c'mon. let's go back to mine, yeah? s'borin' here and uh, y'don't need to be here — safer with me, y'know?

you hesitate for a moment, wanting to stay put and try and make him talk to you, but chris is already moving, leading you further away from the party, the tension in his shoulders telling you that he's struggling with his own feelings and emotions.

you can't help but steal glances at him before you speak up again. "chris.. i want to—"

chris stops abruptly, turning to face you, the intensity in his eyes making your heart race. "i don't wanna talk, a'ight? 'cos yeah, kid, i am mad. m'not mad at you, but m'fuckin' pissed at her for bringin' you here when you don't even fuck with parties anyway. and i — i don't want you caught up in any of that shit that goes on here, okay? jus' wanna go home with you... okay? ...please?"

© STURNIOZ

[hamilando]

ੈ✩ gossip girl (smau) ੈ✩

pairing : lewis hamilton x fem reader

summary: sorry martin fam, the mercedes man is mine

tw : fluff

fc : georgia palmer

a/n : thank you so much to @evasmlp for suggesting this ! lysm 🫶🏻

·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ

liked by user1, user2, fernandoalonso and others

martininmartin doing my PR duties by providing you with pookie nando 🧸ྀི

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user1 WE LOVE YOU ADMINNN 🫶🏻🫶🏻

user2 Nando was forced to this 🤫

user3 not his fault he was born in the wrong generation

user4 WE FOUND THE THIRD MEMBER OF WRONG DIRECTION 😚

astonmartinf1 we love pookie lonso

liked by martininmartin

user5 can we appreciate the username !?

user6 admin, do you even a martin to enjoy martini’s ?

martininmartin I work there 🫦

user7 WHATS WITH THE FREAKY EMOJI !?

user8 she said driving or riding, I do it all 🫂

fernandoalonso I thought we were not sharing it

martiniinmartin sorry

user9 the response -

user10 here is some Vaseline for the dry ass response

liked by user1, user2, user3 and others

martininmartin sorry martin fam 🫧🫶🏻🤍 ( can anyone blame me though )

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user1 nope, can’t blame you

user2 THE LOOKS MA’AM!?

user3 models should be glad she choose f1

user4 THIRSTING OVER LEWIS NOW

user5 chat, the visuals of y/n and Lewis 🫦

user6 I wonder how nando feels

user7 ma’am said I only like people with wdc 👀

fernandoalonso can you focus on what you are there for ?

martininmartin posting more pookie photos of you right away

user8 I could feel him saying that lady even I have wdc

user9 why is the jacket familiar ?

user10 IS IT LEWIS'S!?

user11 nope, it's just his collection with puma

user12 talk about rich fans

liked by lewishamilton, user1, user2 and others

martininmartin chat, how do I get him to look at me like that

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user1 HAVE YOU LOOKED AT YOURSEFL !?

user2 IF LOOKS COULD KILL, WE WOULDN’T WANT TO BE DAN HUMPHREY

user3 GOSSIP GIRL XOXO

lewishamilton I will make sure to visit the martin paddock!

martininmartin of course Lewis !

user4 I can just tell by looking she was shaking while typing that

user5 she is probably screaming in her pillow right now

user6 WELCOME BACK QUEEN SERENA

user7 I got 99 problems but good looks ain't one 🫡

liked by lewishamilton, user1, user2, user3 and others

martininmartin I think I strayed from employer team ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🧚🏻🪷 ₊˚

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user1 ma’am realised that mercedes don’t pay her bills

user2 but a certain mercedes man plays her heart

user3 ferrari *

lewishamilton I am glad you liked the hat !

martininmartin anything given by the fashion king 👑

user4 WE SKIPPED A WHOLE NETFLIX SHOW HERE!?

user5 SIR HAMILTON GIFTED YOU A CAP !?

user6 preparing for the marriage right away

user7 their kids would never complain about fashion 🫡

liked by lewishamilton, mercedesamgf1 and others

martininmartin “Three words, eight letters. Say it and I'm yours" ˚˖𓍢ִִ໋🌊🦈˚˖𓍢ִ

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user1 AAAAAAAA

user2 THE LOOKS

user3 MOTHER FATHER

user4 MOM DAD

user5 MOMMY DADDY

user6 we witnessed her going from fangirl to girlfriend real quick

user7 the couple we never knew we needed

lewishamilton I wonder who is the photographer

martininmartin a random guy

lewishamilton Lewis, I NEED PICTURES OF OUR FIRST DATE WITH THE SUNSET !!

martininmartin Stop Exposing Me In Public

lewishamilton the pictures would come out good when the view is smashing

liked by martininmartin

user8 LEWIS THE RIZZLER !?

user9 not Lewis thirst commenting

user10 this proved that all men shut up with their wife

user11 the caps sentence was enough to shut Lewis

mercedesamgf1 I guess now we are family right ?

liked by martininmartin

tg : @bloodyymaryyy @sainzzreputaticn

[lizzyiii]

just wondering 👉🏼👈🏼 when the next update of his lady love will be? i’m just so excited for the next chapter im OBSESSED with the story 👻

I'm so sorry I took this long, I've been having a mental block with this

His Lady Love (9)

pairing | aemond targaryen x vampire!mikaelson!reader

taglist | to be added to the taglist just add your username to this DOC

word count | 3,8k words

summary | finally you make your return back to king's landing and reunite with aemond

tags | hurt/comfort,

note | I'm so sorry I took so long

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated ✨

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

The storm had raged for a week, battering the old farmstead with rain and howling winds. Inside, the small prince had finally begun to show signs of recovery. Jaehaerys, once pale and on the verge of death, now had the flush of life back in his cheeks, thanks to the small doses of your ancient vampire blood. His eyes, once glazed and distant, now held a quiet strength. Despite his reserved nature, the boy had grown fond of you in his own way, calling you “munās”

The crumbling farm had served its purpose. Though it was no Red Keep, the rations you had scavenged from Tym’s meager cupboards had been enough to sustain the both of you. Tym, the unfortunate soul whose blood had been your own sustenance, now lay rotting in a closet—his death no more significant than a footnote in a much larger story. The smell of his decaying body was thick in the air, but it hardly bothered you. In your long life, you had smelled far worse.

Outside, the rain had finally ceased. The journey back to King’s Landing would be dangerous, but necessary. You could already envision the uproar awaiting your and Jaehaerys’ return. Let them fret; it was no concern of yours.

You gathered what little provisions were left and tucked them into a satchel, slinging it over your shoulder. The food wasn’t for you, of course, but for the prince. He would need his strength if he was to survive the coming days. As you approached Jaehaerys, he looked up at you with a small, fleeting smile—a gesture that melted your dead heart. Without a word, you draped a thick cloak over his shoulders, pulling the hood low to hide his silver Targaryen hair. The last thing you needed was to draw unwanted attention on the road.

The air was damp and heavy as you stepped outside, the smell of wet earth mingling with the distant scent of the ocean. You hoisted the boy onto your horse, his small frame easily fitting in front of you. The skies were still dark, but the rain had stopped for now. With a flick of the reins, the horse began its slow trot down the muddy path.

As you approached the towering walls of King’s Landing, the familiar stench of sweat and desperation thickened in the air. Your grip on Jaehaerys tightened, pulling him closer to you as your sharp senses took in the chaotic scene ahead. The streets swarmed with restless peasants, their voices a cacophony of rage and despair, echoing through the narrow alleyways that led to the Red Keep.

You focused, your hearing tuning into the mob’s cries. They were angry, starved. "Food! Bread!" they screamed, their desperation palpable. The realization struck you almost immediately—Rhaenyra must have sealed off the city. No traders, no merchants, no supplies flowing in. It was a power play, of course. She sought to starve out the opposition within her rightful walls, but it was the smallfolk who suffered most. Typical.

But it was what you saw next that made even your blood freeze.

Through the throngs of people, a procession of white cloaks—Kingsguard—marched proudly through the streets, their armor gleaming in the dimming light of dusk. In their hands, they bore a horrifying trophy: the severed head of a red dragon. Melys, you thought, the Red Queen, her crimson scales dulling in death.

The thought of Daemon’s dragon, Caraxes, crossed your mind briefly, but you dismissed it just as quickly. Daemon was not so easily felled. He was a force of chaos, relentless and unyielding. But Rhaenys... She had fought valiantly for her kin. It had to be her. Aegon had slain her and had the audacity to parade her dragon’s head as if it were some twisted victory.

The crowd grew louder, their protests turning to angry shouts as they watched the grotesque display. You could feel the fear rising among them, but it was overshadowed by the hunger—both for food and for rebellion. The city was on the brink, and Aegon was playing with fire.

Jaehaerys stirred slightly in your arms, oblivious to the grim spectacle unfolding before you. He was innocent in all this, yet he would soon be thrust into the heart of this brutal war. With a final glance at the dragon’s severed head, you urged your horse forward, pulling the hood of Jaehaerys’ cloak lower to shield his Targaryen features. The mob surged around you, but you moved through it like a shadow, unseen and unstoppable.

As you slipped through the shadowed alleys and hidden paths of King’s Landing, the weight of Jaehaerys in your arms was a reminder of just how fragile human life could be. The streets were filled with chaos, but to you, it was nothing. In six hundred years, you had perfected the art of moving unseen, a phantom in the night.

It wasn’t hard to imagine how those men, Daemon had sent, had managed to infiltrate these halls. It was almost laughably easy for you to slip past the guards. They were easily distracted, and you had no trouble avoiding detection.

Your thoughts kept drifting to Aemond, his sharp, striking features, the single violet eye that gleamed with intelligence and ruthlessness. You yearned for him in a way that surprised even you. In all your centuries of existence, through the rise and fall of empires, you had never felt this way about anyone. Aemond had a way of stirring something deep within you—a hunger, not for blood, but for him.

It was strange to admit, even to yourself, but you loved him. In your immortal life, you had seen love twisted and turned into something vile, something manipulative and fleeting. But with Aemond, it was different. His ambition, his fire, even his darkness—those were things you understood, things you were drawn to.

Still, love would have to wait. For now, your priority was Jaehaerys, the boy asleep in your arms, his silver hair tucked away beneath the hood you had wrapped around him. You glided through the hidden corridors of the Red Keep with ease, your steps silent, your presence undetected.

Helaena’s chambers were quiet when you arrived, the door slightly ajar as if awaiting your return. You pushed it open gently, stepping inside to the dimly lit room. Helaena was sitting by the window, her eyes distant and unfocused, lost in her thoughts.

You frowned noticing the dark circles beneath her eyes as the frown that tugged on her lips. “Helaena,” you whispered softly, moving toward her.

Her gaze shifted slowly, her violet eyes blinking as if pulling her from a dream. When she saw Jaehaerys in your arms, her expression changed—a flicker of recognition, of hope. Her lips parted, a gasp escaping her as she stood from her chair.

Helaena breathed out your name softly, her voice fragile, as if uttering it too loudly might cause you to vanish. She rose from her chair, her steps tentative, as if unsure whether you were real or some apparition conjured by her grief. Her eyes glistened with tears, her hands trembling as she reached for you.

You gently placed Jaehaerys in her arms, watching as she clung to him with a desperation that broke your heart. Her tears flowed freely as she kissed his sleeping face, her maternal love rekindled in the boy’s presence. For a moment, the weight of the world lifted from her, her sorrow held at bay by the soft rise and fall of her son’s breathing.

"I knew you weren't dead," she whispered, her voice hoarse but filled with conviction.

A frown creased your brow, confusion settling over you like a fog. "Why would you think that, Helaena?" you asked softly, your concern growing as you saw the pain etched into her delicate features.

Helaena’s gaze dropped to Jaehaerys as she gently rocked him in her arms, her sorrow palpable in the silence that followed. "Three dead Kingsguard, your carriage burnt to ash... what were we to think?" Her voice cracked as she spoke, the words heavy with the weight of grief she had been carrying.

The shock hit you like a dagger to the chest. Your eyes widened in disbelief. "My carriage... burnt?" The last time you had seen it, it had been intact. And worse, Aemond—he must have thought you perished in the flames.

You could feel the fear rising in you, not for yourself, but for him. What had Aemond been thinking all this time? The very thought of him mourning you sent a pang of sadness through your heart.

You swallowed the rising tide of emotion, forcing a smile to reassure Helaena, though it felt strained and unnatural. Your hand rested gently atop hers, offering comfort the way you always had, with a tender touch and a steady heart. "I am fine, my Queen," you said, your voice soft but firm, hoping your words could ease some of the burden that weighed on her. "Jaehaerys is fine. We are both safe, and that is all that matters now."

Helaena looked up at you, her eyes swimming with unshed tears, and for a moment, she seemed to believe you. But you could see the remnants of her anguish still clinging to her, a shadow she could not shake.

Seeing Helaena in such a state—it wounded you, though you could never let it show. You had centuries of practice hiding your own grief, your own longing. But now, with Aemond believing you dead, you felt the familiar weight of sorrow creeping back in.

You had to find him. He needed to know you were alive.

"I have to find Aemond," you murmured, the urgency in your voice betraying the calm you had tried to maintain.

Helaena’s eyes snapped to you, her sorrow deepening as she spoke softly, "He’s changed."

Your brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Helaena hesitated for a moment, as if weighing her words. "The battle at Rook’s Rest," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "He brought down both Rhaenys and Aegon."

You flinched, a ripple of shock running through you. "He killed Aegon?" Your voice trembled slightly as you spoke. Despite Aegon’s many flaws, despite his cruelty, he was still Aemond's brother. How could Aemond have done such a thing?

Helaena shook her head, her expression mournful, weighed down by grief. "No. He didn’t kill him, but he might as well have. Aegon is burnt beyond recognition... A shadow of himself now."

The words hung heavy in the air, and you struggled to grasp them. "Why?" you whispered, more to yourself than to Helaena. How could Aemond, the man you loved, have let things go so far?

Helaena’s gaze softened, and she pressed another kiss to Jaehaerys' forehead, her voice filled with a melancholy acceptance. "Aegon’s taunts… his cruel words… Perhaps he had enough of being belittled, of being treated as lesser, when in truth, he has always been the stronger of the two."

You could see the weariness in Helaena’s eyes, the understanding of how deep the rift had grown between her brothers. But what you couldn’t understand was how much Aemond had changed in just a week. The man you knew, the one you loved, was fierce and proud, yes, but he had always been measured, calculating. To hear that he had snapped so violently, even against his own kin—it worried you.

But you had to see him. You couldn’t wait any longer.

Without another word, you turned toward the door, your mind already racing with thoughts of Aemond—of the man he had been, and the man he might be now.

Aemond was riding a dangerous high, the taste of victory bitter on his tongue. He had dealt with Aegon—though not as thoroughly as he would have preferred. Aegon still lived, if one could call it living. Burnt beyond recognition, a husk of his former self, barely clinging to life. But it didn’t matter. Aegon was no longer a threat to him, and now, Aemond stood as Prince Regent. His mother’s protests were of no consequence to him anymore. She had forsaken him, after all. Turned her back on him, chosen Aegon despite everything. Well, now he would forsake her.

He clenched his fists tightly as he forced his thoughts away from her disappointment, her judgment. It wasn’t Alicent's rebuke that tormented him now. No, when he allowed his mind to drift, when the battlefield fell quiet and the bloodlust faded, his thoughts always, always came back to you.

And that was a pain he could not bear. The sharp sting in his chest that came whenever he remembered your face, your voice, the way your eyes looked at him with a softness no one else could offer. That softness had been his anchor in a world of chaos, and now it was gone. You were gone. Aemond clenched his jaw, forcing the memories back down, but they refused to be silenced.

You haunted him.

So he clung to the one thing that had never failed him: anger. The rage burned hotter and clearer than any sorrow ever could. Vengeance had always been his closest companion, and now it was the only thing he had left to keep him standing. It was easier to drown in that fire, to let the heat scorch away the grief, than to face the aching emptiness your death had left behind.

Because to truly feel the weight of his heartache—to allow himself to grieve—would be a descent into madness. It would be a slow, deliberate suicide. And Aemond Targaryen would not be destroyed by sorrow. He had survived too much for that.

His face was a mask of cold determination, but inside, the wound you left was bleeding still. Anger was a salve, not a cure, but it was the only thing keeping him alive.

As long as he was angry, he couldn’t be sad. And as long as he avoided sadness, he wouldn’t have to confront the truth: that without you, something in him had already died.

Aemond made his way to his chambers, eager to escape the oppressive weight of the castle and the relentless thoughts swirling in his mind. His steps were heavy, and though he had embraced the cold edge of his anger, exhaustion tugged at the edges of his resolve. He needed a moment, just a fleeting break from the burdens of regency and family strife.

But as he pushed open the door, his breath caught in his throat. Standing in the center of his room, with their back turned, was a figure he knew too well. His entire body froze, heart pounding so violently it hurt. His mind, sharp and disciplined, rebelled against the sight before him. It couldn't be real. It shouldn't be real.

Aemond's throat tightened, and he rubbed his eye, the patch over the other itching against his skin as if willing this cruel vision away. His breaths became shallow, harsh gasps escaping him as the figure turned.

And there you were.

The eyes he had dreamt of, that he had mourned for, were looking back at him, alive with warmth and familiarity. "Aemond," you murmured softly, your voice like a balm to his tormented soul.

He stumbled back, his chest heaving with the effort to contain the surge of emotion ripping through him. You moved toward him, your hands reaching out as if to soothe, but he flinched. The pain in your eyes mirrored his own, though he couldn't understand why. He had believed you dead, and now you stood before him. But his mind, ever cautious, doubted the reality before him.

"You're not real," he choked out, the words leaving his lips like a prayer, desperate and broken.

You faltered for a moment, your face contorting with an expression of pain. But it wasn’t for you—it was for him. "I am real, Aemond," you said firmly, your voice unwavering even as his trembled. Then, softer, you added, "As real as the sun and stars, my love."

Tentatively, he reached out, his hand shaking as he brushed your cheek. The soft warmth of your skin against his palm sent a shock through him. His lone eye stung with tears as he leaned closer, feeling the truth of your presence in the softness of your flesh. And when you leaned into his touch, his entire world seemed to shift.

The sob broke from his chest, raw and aching, as he pulled you into his arms with a fierce desperation. He crushed you against his chest, his face buried in your hair, inhaling the scent he had feared he would never experience again. It was real. You were real. His hands trembled as they tightened around you, holding you as if you might slip away once more.

"You're real," he whispered, the words tumbling from his lips in a reverent chant, as if saying it enough times would make it an undeniable truth. "You're alive."

Tears streamed freely down his face as he clung to you, the walls he had built around his heart crumbling in your presence. You had returned to him, and in this moment, the weight of the world, the rage, the grief—it all faded away in the warmth of your embrace. He whispered your name like a prayer, his chest shaking with the sobs he could no longer control.

The two of you had eventually found your way onto Aemond's bed, his arms wrapped tightly around you, as if afraid you might vanish if he loosened his grip. The moonlight spilled softly through the window, casting a gentle glow over the room, but all that mattered in this moment was the warmth of his body beneath yours. You lay on top of him, your noses touching, your breaths mingling in the quiet stillness of the night.

And yet, he only stared at you, his eye searching your face as if trying to memorize every inch, every detail. It felt like an eternity before he finally spoke.

"I don’t understand how," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, the confusion and longing in his eye clear as he tried to reconcile your presence with the grief he had been drowning in.

You lifted your head slightly, his gaze following your every movement. Gently, you brought a finger to trail down his scar, your touch soft and comforting. His eye fluttered shut at the sensation, as if the weight of the world lifted momentarily under your fingertips.

"Helaena told me what was believed," you began, your voice steady as you prepared to weave the lie once more. "But the truth is, our carriage was ambushed. The Kingsguard were killed." You paused, then continued with conviction, "I escaped with Jaehaerys. My intent was to return."

His eye opened slowly, a flicker of something vulnerable passing through his gaze as he asked in a voice that was unusually soft, "Why did it take so long?"

"The prince fell ill on the journey. My only priority was his health, not how quickly we could return," you explained, your lips pressing together in a thin line. "I'm sorry it took so long," you added, guilt weighing your words, though the truth of your ordeal remained hidden beneath layers of carefully constructed deception.

Aemond's expression softened as you rested your head back against him, in the crook of his neck where you could hear his heartbeat, steady and strong. "You're here now," he whispered, his voice filled with relief. It seemed as if that was all that mattered to him in this moment.

The silence between you lingered, a peaceful reprieve from the chaos that awaited outside these walls. But after a while, he spoke again, his voice barely breaking the quiet. "I'm Prince Regent now."

You already knew, of course. Helaena had told you, but you wanted to hear it from him. "Helaena told me what happened to Aegon," you said slowly, choosing your words carefully. You had to know the truth, not from Helaena’s recounting but from Aemond himself. You needed to understand what had happened, why he had done what he did.

There was a pause, a silence that stretched on too long before he finally spoke. "He was not supposed to be there. At Rook’s Rest," he said, his voice low and distant, as if recounting a memory he wanted to forget.

Your hand rested on his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding you. "What happened, Aemond?" you asked, your tone soft but insistent, though part of you dreaded hearing the answer.

Aemond’s face hardened, his eye staring up at the ceiling, his jaw clenched. "Aegon got what he deserved," he said flatly, his tone almost indifferent. "He was unfit to rule. Unworthy to sit the throne."

His words hit you like a stone sinking into a well, and though you had expected them, it still hurt. Aegon was not a good man. He was cruel, selfish, and unfit to lead, but knowing that Aemond had taken such drastic action—it was a bitter pill to swallow. The world was better without Aegon’s reign, and yet the weight of Aemond’s decision loomed over you.

You studied his face, searching for any hint of remorse, of conflict. "Was it worth it?" you asked quietly, though you weren’t sure you wanted the answer.

Aemond didn’t respond. He simply stared at the ceiling, his silence speaking louder than any words could. And you didn’t push him. You knew Aemond better than anyone; his guilt, his anger, and his desire for power all warred within him.

So you lay there, your hand on his chest, letting the silence stretch on, knowing that in time, perhaps, the answers would come. But for now, you were content to simply be there with him.

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