#inner dragon fic

[actuallykiwi]

Some news, friends... I am stopping Inner Dragon indefinitely.

Not that I've lost any inspiration for it, but more of... a new look on it. This is my second fanfiction I've ever written. Also from Skyrim. It's really just been me taking someone else's story and changing it my way, not me making up my own stories.

I still really want to write fluff pieces with Kaidan, of course. That's kinda my thing! But from now on, full stories that I write should be my own. Not a story where everyone already knows what happens.

Thank you to those that have been reading it so far, and those that have stuck with me since Once a Thief. Your support is invaluable to me. I will continue to grow as a writer, and I hope to make you all proud, or at least impress you.

'Til next time ❤️

[justaz]

arthur (prince of camelot) still has to study under a tutor bc yknow uther wants him to be very intelligent before becoming king or something bc its super important idk idc anyways merlin is doing chores in his chambers while arthur is squinting at a book and merlin eventually caves and asks him what he’s reading and arthur gruffly explains that its a collection of stories from greece that make absolutely no sense so merlin asks him to read them outloud to him. arthur of course teases him and calls him an idiot and asks how he could possibly help but does as he’s asked and reads the stories to merlin as he does his chores. merlin (being crushed under the weight of destiny and tormented by the prophecies that kilgharrah spews) understands the stories almost immediately and gets all excited and starts rambling about them with arthur. arthur is glad to have someone who understands so he can give something that reflects a hint of understanding to his tutor who accepts it and moves onto the next unit of education.

the thing is, arthur finds more stories in camelot’s library and brings them up to his room to read them aloud to merlin under the guise of completing his studies but really he just wants to watch as merlin’s eyes gleam when he understands whats happening and listen to him ramble on and on about them bc he’s gay. the stories stick with merlin though and he realizes that they’re cautionary tales, that the heroes who were told too much of their future doomed themself to fulfill them - that them fighting the prophecies led to their completion. merlin takes it to heart and gives a big “fuck you” to kilgharrah before forging his own fate and helping morgana with her magic and handing out an olive branch to mordred and now everyone can live happily and peacefully in an albion teeming with magic.

[possamble]

re: falin having a choice when it comes to having a longer lifespan

makes me think about her choice to save and even feed the dragons soul in the last chapter. i like to think that its this choice she makes that gives her draconic traits? like if she hadnt saved it then she comes back pretty much normal. falin seems to be proud of how different she looks now if how she dresses post-canon is anything to go by.

she also mentions that maybe its the dragon that wants her to travel to different places but i think shes always had the heart of an adventurer. when laios mentions being able to travel she was so so excited. and as a little kid she went out and discovered that dungeon all by herself.

like!! a lot of people write her being fiercely loyal and protective, as well as giving gifts (especially to marcille) as something the dragon makes her do. but from all the memories we see of her, shes always been like that (protecting her brother as kids, attacking the kelpie when laios rides it, saving her brother from getting beat up, giving marcille berries and nuts etc).

if it came down to having a longer lifespan, i dont think its out of the question if falin could just Decide for herself whether or not she wanted that. i think she’d have a good enough relationship with her inner dragon to do so, considering how much she acted like a dragon beforehand anyway

the. the fucking idea of her having had the option to completely stamp out the extra dragon soul inside herself by leaving it behind. and literally choosing not to. not even consciously but because she as a person reflexively wanted to take care of a little creature even knowing that it used to be a monster that hurt her and her loved ones. this time she gets to choose she gets to CHOOSE to live and how to live and it's always with kindness oh god oh fuck

[valdeswan]

Cale and his family are so fucking touch starved that it is not even funny. Give them all the platonic physical love they need.

Hugs anytime, because why fucking not? Let the kids run in their room and give Cale hugs at random times in the day. Make him try to awkwardly hug Rosalyn to congratulate her for her achievements. Allow Mary to receive all the hugs from the wolves when she lets them ride the skeleton dragon.

Good greeting cheek kisses and goodbye kisses: This is a tradition that started with the tiger, but everyone adopts it when they see each other after a long time or if someone is going to be far away from the Rock Village.

Forehead kisses, mostly from Lord Sheritt, who shows affection to the kids, but also to Cale because he has this cute and weak appearance.

Nap time with all the wolf kids because they are just big dogs and everyone has a weak spot for them and their puppy eyes. In the nap time, Beacrox puts soft blankets and pillows in the grass and sits with the kids while reading; he says it´s because someone needs to take care of them, but everyone knows it's a lie.

Rosalyn making hairstyles and taking care of Cale's hair. Loving how soft and easy to brush it's.

Cuddling with the tigers—that is just all of them sleeping under the sun in the garden. Cale not very secretly love this moment of the day because is literally big cats with fluffy and soft fur to lie with.

Basically, he and his family fixing and taking care of all the touch-starved lives they had. Alberu, Choi Han, Rosalyn, I bet nobody touched them nicely too much I'm their fucking lives.

[bbygirl-aemond]

Aemond's baths either look like this:

Or this:

There is no in between.

[greypetrel]

Ooh "a tentative, exploratory kiss between friends" because I'm curious about the first one between Aisling and Cullen 👀 but if there's someone it fits better, that's okay too!

You have wonderful timing, I was about to write this for the next fic chapter. 💜🤣 (Spoiler? If anyone here follows the Wordy Monster.)

The chapter have more build up and Science Bros making things explode (themselves included). You can read it here!

Following the original cutscene because I honestly find it cute, adding here and there (and modifying a line because it doesn’t make sense for them anymore and I didn’t really like in the original, as usual it’s a “It could have been phrased better)

Tis the prompt list

"a tentative, exploratory kiss between friends"

That really won’t do.

The morning’s War Council has been a disaster. Josie was talking about the preparations and uniforms for the Ball and how everything was ready for the fittings, and silks and whatever and guests- And Aisling didn’t listen to one word. She couldn’t, because Cullen was frowning at a pile of reports, brows furrowed in concentration and eyes intent, focused on the task ahead. He looked good, his cheeks seemed fuller and he wasn’t that pale. Maybe the last brew she gave him worked better, she should ask him. Go back in professional mode, yes, that she could do. As long as he was healthy and she could keep him so, maybe make him smile and laugh once in a while, it was ok if he thought she dislikes him. It didn’t make him less kind towards her, less of a friend. And yet, she was longing for more, the very word “friend” is too little, getting stretched more and more. She was longing to just cup his face and yell at him that she didn’t care, she never cared if not in a foolish moment when she thought he was scared of her, and she didn’t want him to be afraid or uncomfortable, not anymore and not with her. She was too concentrated on noticing how his hair almost looked silver when hit in full sunlight. She was wondering how that scruffle would feel under her hands, rubbing on her cheeks and under her lips. And-

- and, she was brought down back to earth from her reverie by a smirking Leliana who made a too witty, too knowing joke about her daydreaming. Aisling grumbled that she was just tired, she slept little the last night, and Leliana just -smirking horribly- suggested her to count lions before sleeping. Josie snorted a laugh, and Cullen just sighed, begging them all to please go back to work, too concentrated, luckily, on his reading to mind that Aisling just turned the exact shade of red of the velvet Josephine was favouring for their uniforms.

This really won’t do, not at all, she couldn’t go on like this. She refuses to start blabbering.

So, she decided to do what the grown-up, responsible First of Keeper Deshanna Isthimatorial Lavellan would do. Open up and confess, come clean and start again. Whine a little over it, cry, get drunk with Dorian, Sera and Bull and get on with her life. She and Cassandra were friends, now, it hasn’t been easy, but they made it.

The plan is simple: go to his office, ask him for five minutes alone. Tell him that she has this stupid crush on him and please, ignore any weird behaviour from her, and please, let’s stay friend and keep things just as they were before. Assure him that she never disliked him on principle, she would never have approached him. Now that she knows she just admires him greatly for realising his situation and acting towards a real change, it wasn’t easy. And then, once everything was out and she had nothing else to hide and overthink about, she would have just got on with her life, less uneasy from all those secrets.

On paper, it looks easy.

As she stands there, staring at his door with a raised hand, stalling before knocking, it’s one of the most difficult think she could think of. A part of her mind is screaming to just… run for cover, take her horse and spend the time until the Ball with Keeper Hawen’s clan. Dig a hole in the garden to bury herself into, become fertilizer for the elfroot, it would just be fitting for her.

The other part, tho, knows better. The other part has the voice of Cole and of Radha and knows she needs to spit it out for it to go away, and go on with their lives.

So, she takes a deep breath, checks another time she’s in good order, fixing her doublet -the nice one, the one in teal velvet and golden buttons and pointy shoulder pieces that matches her Vallaslin- on her trousers, combing her hair more tidily behind her ears- Or maybe not? Are they too big? No, no, ok, that’s a stupid doubt. Combing her hair more tidily behind her ears. And with a big breath and a small prayer to Mythal for strength, she knocks.

He seems surprised to see her. It’s not lunch time, and he’s a little confused to see her so early. Asks her if something happened, jumping to emergency mode and leaving his desk, reaching for his sword instinctively. At least, seeing him so full of nerves helps in calming her down. A little, at least. Just enough to ask him, after some formalities and small talk about health and the situation in the Keep, if he has some minutes to speak with her.

Alone.

She puts emphasis on the adjective, bracing herself for a refusal, some frowning, some scolding because he has evidently, by the amount of paper piles on his desk, a lot of work to do and no time to lose with a silly elf that should be working and isn’t. And yet, he just fumbles more, puzzled by the “Alone”, and… And just leaves everything as it is and opens the door for her, leading her to the battlements and walking by her side.

Silence, between them, has always been comfortable, it has been from the start of their friendship, none really needing to fill the silence or force the other to speak at all costs. Which is something Aisling never likes to do, if she hasn’t anything to say. Cullen never required words, never expected her to speak and put her at ease. Now, their silence is charged, both embarrassed by a single, decisive word that the elf is now rethinking and reconsidering again and again. They pass the second tower. And the third.

“It’s… A nice day.” It’s Cullen, finally, to break the silence.

Except that Aisling is yet again in her own head, screaming internally as words elude her. And, allegedly, realising he’s speaking to her with half a minute of late. Enough that she just has to ask him: “What?”

Another pause, they both look at the other not knowing what to do.

“It’s…” He starts, rubbing his neck, but decides better right away, shaking his head and looking at her, instinctively straightening up. “There was something you wished to discuss.”

She nods, nervously. Here. That’s it. Moment of truth. Mythal have mercy, or tell Elgar’nan to open the earth and swallow her whole.

“Cullen, I care for you, and I-” She stops, words dying in her throat again, realising that he’s looking at her in the eyes and she really has not the guts for it. So, Aisling groans, averting her eyes and sighing, looking down.

“What’s wrong?” And now he sounds worried. Great.

“You left the Templars… But you wrote in your letter implying that the majority of people still dislikes you on principle. And…” A pause, trying to recollect her thoughts. “… I wanted you to know that I never disliked you on principle. And that I’m very sorry if I ever gave you this impression, really. But…”

He tries to reply, but she raises a hand, signalling to no, please, let her finish. He gets it. She’ll be damned because he somehow always gets what she’s saying, is probably the only one that had never troubles understanding her messy cursive, and right now it makes her heart clench because she’s about to ruin it.

“… but I know we’re friends, and… Well. I also know that you don’t have the best experiences with Mages…” She swallows. Spit it out, da’len, don’t let it poison you. “… Could you think of me as anything more than just that? Than an Apostate and… And a friend…?”

There. It’s not direct. It’s not blunt, because right now she can’t deal with directness. She hopes it’s enough, as she shily turns her head to peek at him, see what he’s doing and his expression.

“I could.”

He blurts out, abruptly, without a hint of hesitation in his voice. Aisling perks up, mouth open and eyes big in surprise and wonder at his admission, looking at him in the eyes.

"Wait... What?"

Wrong thing to ask, apparently, even if it burst out of pure surprise, out of needing a confirmation that she, indeed, has understood correctly and it's not just deluding herself. The result, all in all, is that Cullen shies away immediately, a hand coming up to rub his neck and turning away. He starts to walk again, as he fumbles with words again. Aisling just follows him, hope blossoming in her chest and butterflies doing evolutions in her stomach.

“I-I mean. I-I do.” A pause. “Think of you.” He starts to massage his temples. “… And what I might say in this sort of situation.”

She trots after him, heart hammering fast in her throat.

“What’s stopping you?” She asks, managing to slip in front of him and turn to face him, arresting his steps. The irony is not lost to both, and they exchange a smile as he, indeed, stops.

“You’re the Inquisitor, and we’re at war.” He states a note of regret in his voice. “And, you’re my friend. My best friend, before of everything else and I… I didn’t want to ruin it. Also I…” He sighs, shaking his head. “…I didn’t think it was possible.”

“And yet I’m still here.” She smiles, encouragingly. She can’t help but smiling, as she steps back to rest against the wall in a crenelle, both hands propped on the border. Heart full and near to bursting.

He smiles back, cheeks flushed pink as hers, stepping forward slowly to get closer. And closer.

“It seems too much to ask…”

“I’m your best friend, right? I don’t mind doing you a favour. If you want to, we can try...” She banters, half that and half fumbling herself, speaking too quickly and with not much sense, tying strings together just to fill the silence and vent some restlessness.

“… I want to.” If she’s restless and hyped, he’s soft and delicate, placing a hand over hers on the stone, looking at her right in the eyes as he gets closer and closer.

She’s pinned in place, she can just nod when he furrows just a little, to silently ask for permission, the way he does when they play chess, words are over and he asks her if he can move. The same way they communicate if they’re all right from one side to the other of the War Table. Aisling closes her eyes, floating in anticipation, feeling his breath -delicate, still, he must be keeping it, smelling faintly like elfroot and the herbs she put in his brew- she’s leaning minutely forward and their lips brush against each other, very tentatively before-

“Commander.”

He draws back, inhaling sharply through his nose. Aisling, on her own, thrown back to earth too abruptly, lowers her gaze and turns her head away from the newcomer, clearing her throat and straightening her spine.

“You wanted a copy of Sister Leliana’s report.” The Scout continues, and as Aisling looks at him, he has his head bent down on a writing board, not looking at where he goes or his surroundings.

She is grateful that he doesn’t, because like that he probably missed the Commander and the Inquisitor being far too close for propriety’s sake, and at the same time she knows that Cullen will get absolutely pissed by that attitude. He surely barked against her enough times in drills to always, always, mind your surroundings, how many enemies are around, terrain.

“What?” As on clue, Cullen barks, seething in irritation as he turns from her and marches to the poor, still incredibly unaware Scout.

“Sister Leliana’s report, sir, you wanted it delivered right away.” The Scout seraphically goes on, calm as if it was asking a friend to pass him the salt during a picnic on a sunny day.

Finally he raises his head, and Aisling can see all colour draining from his face. She’s trying her best to merge with the surroundings and pretend she’s not there, or she’s invisible, but she can’t help looking. Looking as the Scout suddenly realizes that he manages to step on at least three buttons of Commander Rutherford, enough to have him silent and most likely with a murderous expression on his face - again, Aisling knows that look he has with the particularly arrogant recruits that have him repeat very simple questions twice, explaining his work to him. The Scout looks at her, finally, and before Aisling snaps her head and eyes on the other side of the battlements, clearing her throat eloquently, she spots him absolutely terrified, putting 2 and 2 together.

“Or… Or…” The poor boy swallows. “… or to your office! R-right!”

It’s almost comical how he retreats walking backwards, not leaving Cullen’s eyes as one would do with some sort of wild animal very angry at you. As if he was afraid that by turning and running, the Commander would have understood that he was prey to run after, and jumped at his throat.

As the door to the guard tower slams behind the Scout again, Aisling speaks.

“Cullen, if you need to- oomph!”

He’s on her abruptly, heavily and roughly. He doesn’t really centre her mouth at first, and needs to readjust. But like that, he scrubs his beard against her face, slightly, and it’s rough and blissful and very weird, in a good sense. He cups her face, keeping her close and moving her slightly for a better position. She closes her eyes and kisses him back, not knowing where to put her hands. Tentatively, she decides that his ribcage, on his sides, is a good position. He doesn’t seem to mind, at least, when he moves away, red till the point of his ears, smiling goofily at her, eyes sparkling.

“I’m- I’m sorry. That was… Uh, that was nice.” He sounds not really convinced. It could be shyness, or not, she needs to know.

“… You don’t regret it, do you? I mean, we can always pretend it never happened, go on as before…” She prods, offering him a way out. She wouldn’t be able to go on as before, but she can try.

He just looks at her, tho, awestruck as if it is the first time he really sees her. Sees her for real, eyes shining and a smile not leaving his lips, bending his scar just so in that way she likes. She really hopes he doesn’t regret it, tho, because she doesn’t want him to look at her in any other way than this, and moreover she really, really wants to kiss him again. Kiss him better. Longer.

“No!” He answers her, and they both smile wider, one following the other. “No, not at all… Do you?”

“Mh. I’m not really sure. Care to try again? For science?”

And yet, she moves slightly closer, not going the full way, but making it clear that she’s up to it. He laughs, shaking his head and resting his forehead against hers, thumbs gently caressing her jaw where they’re still placed.

“Yes. Well…”

They try again. Slower, more tentatively, savouring the moment more. Aisling hugs him properly after a minute -she restrained herself-, bringing him closer despite his armour and cape. It’s really different than Ydun, it’s less soft and less delicate, movement less precise. It’s ten times better – more heartfelt, for once.  She manages to shift a little and indeed kiss his scar, humming in contentment, before Cullen seems to remember something and moves a little back, concern on his still flushed face.

“I- I wanted to say, forgive me for what I wrote. I never… it came out wrong, I’m awful with letters that aren’t report, I didn’t mean to say that I think you disliked me on principle, I don’t think that. It’s just that… I mean-”

He’s fumbling so much, looks so concerned even if he stull is blushing madly, ears deliciously pink. He’s fumbling so much that she starts to laugh, slipping her arms in front of him, her turn to cup his face and bring him back for another kiss - regretting she did wear gloves today, but she guess it would mean they’ll have to do it again.

“Shut up.” She tells him, giggling as she kisses him again. And again.

[https-furina]

this puppy boys work is <33 hurting my soul

[chaoticnerdsstuff]

U don't understand how I love the idea of dragon turning human

[moonlitmmarie]

Is the fic reference on Trunks’ outfit the pearl necklace? 🤔😃

It is 😎 I’ve never seen it on any kind of Trunks fanart (or fanfic, but I don’t read that many of Trunks-centered ones), so if there is only one particular work where you’ve seen him with the thing in then it is ^^

Thanks for the ask! (and for catching my drift)

[florallychaotic]

*shouting into the void* YOU KNOW MAYBE WRITING MORE OFTEN WOULD BE EASIER IF YOU DIDNT HAVE A WILDLY DIFFERENT STYLE FOR EACH PROJECT, THUS CAUSING YOU TO FEEL AWKWARD AND WEAR OUT QUICKER WHILE WRITING BECAUSE IT DOESNT FEEL "RIGHT"

[bokettochild]

HOLY COW THIS IS GORGEOUS!!!!!!!!!

Can I please include this in the fic (with credits to you of course)? He looks- they are- you figured out5 how he was supposed to look and he looks perfect and they both look amazing and MY GOLLY GOSH GOODNESS I'M UTTERLY IN LOVE!!!!!!

Legend lifts a hand, waving slightly at the others. They start at the sight of him, curled against the dragon, head resting against its chest, and Warriors can see their eyes flicker to him, to the vet, back and forth and wondering. It's Four who eases first, stepping in close and looking up at him, curiosity rather than fear in his eyes.

“Made a friend?”

“Found an old one more like,” Legend drawls, smile off kilter as it tends to be, buck teeth showing just barely.

- excerpt from The Inner Warriors by @bokettochild (FlamingIdiot on AO3)

[thank you @lavafox628 for tagging the author! I couldn’t find her tumblr!]

One of my favorite Warriors-centric fics! I suck at drawing dragons but I had to give this scene a try cause I love the image of a dragon curled protectively around little Legends

[swordgrace]

𝐀𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐘.

༺ aemond targaryen x fem!reader.

SYNOPSIS: in the aftermath of rook’s rest, you seek aemond out to inquire about his wellbeing. instead, you find him somewhere else — somewhere unexpected. (set after S2 EP4).

༺ FORMAT: one-shot — not requested.

༺ WORD COUNT: 5.2K.

༺ WARNINGS: SMUT (mdni) , spoilers for s2 ep4, public sex / risk of getting caught, knifeplay, imbalance of power, rough sex, darkish!aemond, dom!aemond, p in v sex (unprotected), oral (f!receiving), fingering, brief tiddy sucking, groping, biting / marking, hair pulling, choking, fucking right in front of the iron throne, inaccurate high valyrian, brief dirty talk, lots of aemond’s inner thoughts, breeding kink if you squint, aemond is extremely possessive of the reader to an unhealthy degree.

༺ AUTHOR’S NOTE: to preface, I am working on requests, this just happened to make its way out of my brain before anything else did. This was inspired by the single shot of Aemond standing in front of the Iron Throne in the S2 EP5 trailer, you can tell how desperate I got as soon as I saw it. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy! There will be a Jace fic dropping tomorrow, too! ❤️

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐄 — a seat of power constructed by Aegon the Conqueror in the aftermath of a bloodied war, forged from thousands of surrendered swords.

In the days of Aegon the Conqueror, it was said that the Throne was sometimes too high to climb, a jagged labyrinth of blades melded by dragon’s fire, a throne fit for any ruler. Men impaled themselves upon one another’s blades for it, turned against one another, endless betrayals and treacheries ensued all for the sake of the endgame, to see themselves upon the Throne.

Brother turned against brother — you didn’t expect anything less from Aemond, whose desire to exact revenge boiled just beneath the surface. The Battle at Rook’s Rest had proved a slaughter on all fronts, between the decimation of both Cole’s armies and the castle they laid siege upon, to the death of the Princess Rhaenys and her dragon, Melys.

Whispers spread through the Red Keep in regards to King Aegon’s condition, bones crushed beneath the weight of Sunfyre, who plummeted from the skies in a ball of fire. His flesh was scorched, half of his body melded to the Valyrian Steel armor he wore, burnt beyond recognition.

If they were to be believed, King Aegon was gravely wounded — and if a fatality ensued, who would then bear the mantle of King?

A restless dusk gripped King’s Landing as the surviving soldiers from Cole’s armies arrived at the city gates, King Aegon amongst the wounded. In what you considered to be a mass panic and hysteria, Maesters rushed to diligently attend to their King, who seemed to be meeting a simmering grave inside of his armor — it would be his tomb if they weren’t careful.

Merely a handmaiden and servant to nobility, the antics of your masters didn’t interest you — you were wholly preoccupied with your own survival and self-preservation, amongst other things. It was said that Aemond and Vhagar had swarmed the battlefield and come to King Aegon’s defense, but by the time they had, Aegon had been swallowed by dragonfire.

Part of you had difficulty believing that Aemond truly attempted to save his elder brother, given Aemond’s embittered sentiments. Your relationship with the Prince had transcended all bonds of propriety — and if anyone were to find out, they would likely have your head for sullying his virtue.

Nevertheless, as chaos swarmed around you, you knew exactly who to seek out. Queen Alicent had little desire to be hounded by handmaidens while her eldest son struggled to hang onto his own life, something you could understand. Instead, you made for Aemond’s chambers, the route embedded into your mind.

You sought him — all of him. His lilac hue, a maelstrom of forlorn emotions, and his silvery tresses, like cascading silk, embedded themselves into your mind. His cunning countenance and beguiled expression were like hot-iron brands cast onto your thoughts, tormenting you with each waking moment.

As you stepped closer to the Throne Room, no longer guarded by Kingsguard, you saw the great door ajar — no King atop the throne. You wondered if he would live, Aegon — a drunken, broken man who preferred his cups and whores over ruling — or if he would perish.

You knew who would sit the Iron Throne, should Aegon fall.

A heavy darkness had befallen the throne room, fitting for the many tragedies, like the gloom of a shadow haunting all who dared to enter. Curiosity gripped you as you stepped inside, a place well above your station, yet you wondered if there was anyone inside.

The doors remained shut, save for the one you slipped through, the gap slim. Flickering braziers provided some illumination to such a grandeur hall, but it seemed so dour and lifeless without the presence of the day, without subjects fluttering in and out. Instead, it provided an ominous sense of dread, as if luring those inside with dark omens and false promises.

A familiar crown of silvery tresses stood at the very center, before the throne — he didn’t need to turn around for you to know who it was. He seemed entirely unscathed by the battle at Rook’s Rest, hands carefully folded behind his back, posture poised and dignified.

Aegon’s dagger flashed within his right hand, clutched tightly at his side. You wondered how he had acquired the blade so swiftly after a tragedy — but you knew. You had always known of Aemond’s nature, of his restrained resentment towards his brother, the King of the Seven Kingdoms.

“Aemond.” Your voice reverberated throughout the throne room, carrying a fair distance as you closed the door behind you. The studded mahogany groaned in protest, yet bent to your will as it closed with a noisy thud. Admittedly, you were surprised to see him here, and not in the comfort of his chambers.

He didn’t move, rigid and still as you quietly approached, dresses sweeping across the smooth stone beneath you. His violet hues remained transfixed upon the Iron Throne, a throne that would soon be his, if fate favored him. So many swords, so much strife and conflict that forged such a chair — so much bloodshed.

Aemond often wondered what the weight of the crown would feel like upon his brow — and even then, he knew he would wear it better than Aegon ever could. He had stood by the wayside for far too long, learned in his studies and a talented swordsman, wondering if it would all have some reward, some payoff.

Now, his opportunity was swiftly approaching.

Whatever anger he’d often kept leashed, it had struck out, like the bite of a poisonous viper, sinking into its prey with all its bitter viciousness. It was the same tempestuous rage that had lashed at Lucerys Velaryon, and now it had struck his brother, Aegon the Magnanimous.

A stupid sobriquet for a stupid man — a drunken fool. Aemond would simply pass it off as an unfortunate accident, with Aegon carelessly stepping into the line of fire whilst tangling with the Queen Who Never Was. Swift decisions had to be made on his part, his brother a victim of such action.

Any silver-tongued words that would placate his Mother, he was prepared to let them fly. Aemond knew enough to know that the consequences would be slim, and those of true action and cruel intentions would take Aegon’s place — men like himself.

Soft footfalls fell across black stone, and you called his name again, like a siren’s song luring the sailor into deeper waters. “Aemond.” It was saccharine, dripping with genuine warmth that the Prince was simply unaccustomed to.

The unexpected lull of your voice broke his fixation, and he looked to you with a gaze full of desire. It was a farcry from the frustrated, despondent man you’d encountered days prior following the incident at the brothel. There was a newfound fire within his eyes, a confidence restored — a sense of triumph.

Admittedly, you were rather perplexed by this invigorated side to Aemond — that wild gleam within his lilac eye only seemed to grow in intensity as you approached him. “I heard the news of what happened to your brother,” You began, pondering his reaction. “You have my deepest sympathies.”

The admiration he had for you only seemed to blossom, knowing that you were simply keeping up appearances for his sake. Aemond’s mouth tilted into the ghost of a smirk, feigning melancholy despite the truth of his own actions. “It was a horrible thing, what happened to the King,” He uttered, glancing toward the throne. “I wish for his swift recovery.”

A facade was a mere understatement — you could almost taste the smug bemusement that rested within Aemond’s tone. The slight quirk of his mouth, the manner in which he spoke — his sympathies for Aegon were nonexistent.

“As any good brother would.” You replied, stepping closer until you stood before the Iron Throne, gaze falling upon the thousands of swords swarming the seat, blades of many shapes and sizes. You wondered about the people behind each sword — who swung it, what their lives must’ve been like.

A brief hum escaped Aemond, who observed you hawkishly as you approached, violet hue greedily drinking you in as he had many times before. You had stood so faithfully by his side, never admonished him for the brash actions taken against his family, never deemed him pathetic for what happened at the brothel.

He cared little for your station, little for your status as a lowborn — if he sat the Iron Throne, he could have whatever he wanted. It didn’t matter if you were a commoner, Aemond could envision you as his wife, a Queen — no longer bowing to the whims of greater men and women who cared little for you.

“Did my Mother dismiss you this evening?” Aemond questioned, digits tense around the pommel of Aegon’s knife — now his. Seeing as he was no longer fit to carry the weapon, it was only just that it pass to his brother, his next of kin.

“She did,” A gentle exhale escaped you, one that allowed you to maintain your composure. Being in Aemond’s presence seemed to make you dizzy with desire with each passing moment — not a new sentiment, but an intoxicating one. “I was coming to find you, to see if you were well after the battle.”

Shamelessly, Aemond became quite aroused at the thought of you wandering about the Red Keep with the single-minded desire to see him. His blood ran hot after the battle — the surge of adrenaline did not lessen in your presence.

His jaw tensed slightly as he appraised you, taking a step closer, brazenly closing the distance between you both. He could smell your perfume, the warm bouquet of flowers and a touch of honey. “How thoughtful.” His voice dropped to a low purr, dripping with the first inklings of lust.

Your breath hitched, words turning to ash upon your tongue as your fingers curled into your dress. Aemond enticed you in ways that no man had before — and he saw you, a woman beneath the gowns of a servant. The hammering of your heart within your chest had stirred something powerful — your want for him consumed you like a tidal wave.

Before you could utter his name, he descended like a starving wolf to kiss you, open-mouthed and bleeding lust. You shivered, wanting to coax him into returning to his chambers before things became heated. His hand dropped to seize your hip, hauling you closer to him until no space was left between your bodies.

You reciprocated his kiss, able to hear a faint growl of approval building up within his throat. It was fiery and hot, with little concern of who might see you. Aemond was growing emboldened, brazen knowing the power he now held within his grasp.

“We should return to your quarters,” You whispered, a strained whimper tearing past your lips as Aemond kissed your jaw, sucking at the flesh of your neck. “Aemond, we can’t — not here.” Your breathy pleas fell upon deaf ears — what better place to claim you than before his new throne?

“We can,” Aemond murmured, pushing your tresses aside as he claimed your throat, laying waste to your flesh in his rabid kisses and hungry bites. “The rest of the Keep is preoccupied.” His reassurance was threadbare at best, but you were beginning to slip off of the deep end, fingers clawing at his tunic.

“What if someone sees?” Fear trickled into your voice, a subtle fright that Aemond found to be enticing. You worried for your own skin — he could understand that. A moan escaped you as Aemond nipped at your jugular, squeezing at your hips.

You failed to comprehend that he would protect you, shield you if needed. He did not need to justify his obsession for you, just as Aegon never offered any justification for his nightly whore hunts. Aemond seemed quick to soothe your worry, hand clasping at the nape of your neck.

“Then I will have their head,” His delectable purr dropped an octave, scratching the itch within your head. “You needn’t worry, ñuha dōna. I can do whatever I wish.” Aemond assured you, a great fire burning within his lilac hue. The leather of his eyepatch concealed the listless sapphire beneath.

He only needed to serve himself — his family cared little for him, and the world was often against him. He looked forward to facing Daemon whenever the time came, should he be bold enough to challenge him. Aemond dismissed it all — Aegon, his mother, Criston Cole — the only thing that mattered were the both of you.

Aemond’s streak of possessiveness had grown into something uncontrollable, a festering desire to keep you close, spiraling into obsession. You were many things to him, many things he coveted for himself.

After a moment of hesitation, you decided to make things tempting for Aemond, loosening the bodice of your dress. His breath hitched, the noise subtle if one wasn’t observant enough. He seized the back of your head once more, hungrily pressing his lips to yours, consuming you in another heated kiss.

A dour portrait of dusk hovers around the Red Keep, its shadowy tendrils slinking into the throne room. Only moonlight and dying braziers are your guide, and Aemond is at his prettiest whenever he’s touched by the silvery rays. It strikes his narrow visage, paints his silky tresses in pale light.

He is closer to a god now than he is a man — fortunately, you were willing to return to religion if it meant that Aemond was who you worshiped. As much as you liked to believe it was the foundation of your relationship, he thought of it alternatively, the roles reversed.

Your digits slip beneath the overcoat he wore, marred by speckled dirt and brimstone. His broad, sinewy shoulders are concealed by his tunic, and he seems vastly overdressed compared to you, still wearing your servant’s clothes. Aemond had gotten you a dress to wear with him before — you never wore it otherwise.

There is a certain intensity in the way he kisses you, as if each embrace might be your last. In the aftermath of a battle, you understand such sentiments, given the fate of the King and the Princess Rhaenys.

A growl reverberates within the depths of his throat as he pries his mouth away from you, gesturing toward the flight of obsidian steps that ascend toward the Iron Throne. “There,” He uttered, more of a command than a suggestion. “Lay down.”

A shudder rolls down the length of your spine, followed by an onslaught of goosebumps that snake across your flesh like a fever. Your stomach churned with anticipation, filling with the sensation of sloshing heat, burning brighter as each moment passed.

Without question, you step toward the throne, noticing the sharpness of some blades, the dullness of others. You find your footing upon the last step, feeling Aemond stalk closer. The rustling of his belt makes you shiver, only to find the steely chill of the Conqueror’s knife pressed against the dip between your shoulder and neck.

Aemond closes in behind you, caging you against his chest, like a predator swarming hapless prey. His narrow nose brushed along your soft tresses as he dragged the tip of the knife from your shoulder to ribcage. “Shall I cut this from you?” He uttered, digging the Valyrian steel into the fabric of your dress.

Swallowing the growing lump within your throat, you brace yourself for the bite of the knife, for the unruly tear of fabric, but it never comes. Instead, Aemond’s mouth pressed vigorous kisses against your neck, hand seizing you by the throat.

“Ao sytilībagon naejot nyke.” Aemond purred, feeling you turn within his grasp. Desire oozed between you both, an onslaught of carnality soon to follow. His lilac hue flickered over your countenance, drinking in your beauty with unrestrained rapture. You belong to me.

From what little High Valyrian you’d learned in the time you’ve been with Aemond, you strung enough of the sentence together to know what he meant. “Iksan aōhon.” A soft whimper emerged from between your parted lips, noticing the way his pupil dilated with amorous intent.

I am yours.

A flame of obsession roared within his gaze, enough to burn you alive where you stood. Aemond reveled in your submission to him, drank in your devotion — a devotion that would prove fruitful, should he ascend the throne. The tip of the knife prodded into your sternum, and you absentmindedly leaned forward.

Aemond captured your mouth once more, laying claim to you — his paramour. There was nothing sweeter than your desperate mewls and reciprocated passion, the succor of your mouth, the saccharine scent of your perfume.

The both of you descended to the floor, icy and stony as it prodded into your back. He knelt between your legs, gaze momentarily flickering between the shadow of the Iron Throne and your mesmerized visage. Aemond kissed you again, nipping at your lower lip before rucking up your skirts, pushing them toward your hips.

With one knee, he bullied his way in between your thighs, breaths heavier, wrought with anticipation as he lowered his mouth to your collarbone. In one smooth tug, he loosened your bodice, wrestling with the coarse material as he buried his face into your silky skin.

The throes of passion filled the air — short gasps and labored pants accompanied by the constant shuffling of fabric. “Aemond,” You moaned, watching as he bit the leather of his glove, removing the garment in one jerk of his head. Flesh to flesh, he moved to drag his digits along your weeping slit. “Aemond.” Urgency crept into your voice, strung-out by need.

“Hm,” His cajoling hum sent shivers down your spine, heat sloshing around within your stomach. Arousal pooled between your thighs, nectar sticky and gathering swiftly. “What a delicious gift you’ve given me.” Aemond uttered, slender digits continuing to stroke at your cunt, his pace agonizingly slow.

Lifting his fingers to his lips, he let them rest upon his tongue, gathering your juices to taste. A satisfied grunt of approval escaped him, one that made you meld into the floor. It was an uncomfortable surface, yet any thought of discomfort dissipated the moment Aemond’s lips pressed against the inside of your knee.

Instinctively, your hands flew toward his crown of silken tresses, digging in with an ironclad hold. Aemond released a low hiss of satisfaction, pressing hot kisses along the inside of your thigh. He dipped lower, breath fanning across your cunt.

His tongue raked hot embers across your aching core, delivering a series of deliberate strokes that were sure to make you squirm. Aemond preferred to savor you, consuming every drop of your nectar as if it were the finest of wines.

“Aemond!” Your voice rose above the cacophony of lewd noises ensuing below, noisy enough to reverberate throughout the throne room. It worried you, the potential of someone finding you with the Prince-Regent between your legs, but pleasure began to outweigh logic.

His name felt sweet from your mouth — if Aemond had it his way, he would make you say it a thousand times over. The sharp bridge of his nose buried itself into your mound, cock twitching within the leather of his breeches.

Another breathy moan left you, stomach pooling with a rush of molten heat. It oozed between your legs as your arousal fell upon the Prince’s tongue, much to his delight. He did not waste a drop, mouth traveling wherever he pleased, lapping at every inch of your cunt.

The Iron Throne overshadowed the both of you, a jagged mess of swords surrounded by dusk. Slats of moonlight trickled in from the stained glass above, falling across his visage, violet hue sparkling with lust. His lips greedily kissed at your clit, causing your hips to lurch forward.

“Look at me.” A pointed demand spoken from an edged tongue, one that commanded your attention without wavering. With a strangled moan, you turned your head to him, furthering the fire within your belly. Your doe-eyed stare locked onto him, lips falling apart.

As your eyes flickered over his poised features, your hand tightened within his tresses, coaxing him closer toward the apex of your thighs. Aemond wasn’t sly at suppressing the delight he felt in that moment, greedily lapping at your cunt.

You watched, enthralled by the ministrations of his mouth, the flick of his tongue, the tantalizing efforts made to draw you back in. His features were carved like marble, by the steady hand of a sculptor — godly, in the best way possible.

Aemond hoped that your blissful cries would alert the guards — perhaps, all could bear witness to his carnal delights, know that you belonged to him and him alone. His lips crawled to a sluggish pace, made only to torment you as he peppered feather-light kisses against your clit. The lack of pressure nearly made you wretch, digits curling into a fist.

Every fiber of your being felt as if it had been set ablaze, washed within the fires of his affection. He knew your body well, as well as he knew his own, tongue dipping to have a taste of your core as it lightly jutted against your entrance. You whimpered, the noise pathetic and pitiful, yet overwhelmingly eager.

“Please,” You moaned, breathy and clawing for some shred of release, canting your hips forward. Aemond retreated, just enough to leave you writing upon the steps before a sly chuckle reverberated between your thighs. His torture of you was playful and intimate, intended to make you beg. “Please, Aemond!”

How could he deny you when you sounded so sweet?

With a soft hum, Aemond returned to devour your cunt, drink from the nectar that oozed between your legs. His hands situated themselves against your thighs, nails digging in enough to leave behind traces of angered crescent marks.

The heat between your legs intensified, arousal stinging your bones, body bent underneath Aemond’s will as he lapped at your core. His lips were accompanied by his spindly digits as two fingers prodded at your entrance, feeling the crescendo of your whimpers before sinking themselves into your tight cunt.

Squelching intermingled with that of brazen pants and your myriad of moans, a cacophony of lust that permeated the throne room. It felt sinful, to defile the steps of a seat of power, but that shame swiftly contorted into bliss — it felt good.

It felt good to be desired, for Aemond to feel not an ounce of regret or remorse for being with you or for the carnage his actions wrought. The darkness that festered within his eye only grew, once a flickering shade, now growing into something sprawling.

At last, his lips pursed around your clit, stimulating that sensitive clutch of nerves. Your back arched from the stone, thighs rattling like falling leaves as he brought about your ruin. His digits viciously pumped in and out of your cunt, preparing you for the act that was to follow.

His tongue lashed across his lower lip, not wasting a drop of what sweetness you provided him with. Aemond’s mouth hastily abandoned your cunt, yet the curling of his fingers seemed to make up for the loss of pleasure. You felt his wet lips purse around the pebbled peak of your breast, suckling like a greedy babe.

Aemond’s senses drowned in desire, cock throbbing within his trousers, desperate to be inside of you. It wouldn’t be much longer now as he bit and kissed your chest, letting the work manifest as love bites, evidence of his carnal want for you.

“I need you, Aemond. I need you inside of me.” The suddenness of your words left him reeling, a snarl stirring within his chest as his teeth gnashed into the soft flesh between your breasts. You longed to feel his cock lay waste to your cunt, for him to fuck away his anger, his frustration.

Hastily, his hand flew to the ties of his breeches, loosening the threads of leather. You grabbed the front of his tunic, enough to effectively grab his attention as you pulled him in for a hot kiss. Passion bled through, and you could taste yourself upon his tongue as it danced with yours.

The warmth of his cockhead prodded against your folds, already slick with your cum and his own. It was messy, an entanglement born of desire, of the will to possess one another — a claim eternal. Aemond’s hand snaked toward your hip, the other keeping himself afloat before he snapped forward.

His cock invaded your cunt without any sluggishness to it, the deliberation gone entirely. A wild shimmer glistened within his eye, a domineering edge that seemed to wrestle with itself. Aemond wanted to submit to you, but in the wake of Rook’s Rest, adrenaline and a desire for power simply wouldn’t allow it.

As he fucked you like a hound, as Aegon had colorfully put it, Aemond could see you seated beside him, a crown upon your brow, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. A commoner, crawled from dirt and from nothing, into his arms — into a seat of power that none would dare challenge.

Fantasy consumed him, making him mad with lust. He wanted to crawl beneath your flesh, reside there, hear your heart hammering within your breast. He seemed pleasantly surprised when you claimed his mouth, your tongue advancing past his parted lips.

With your skirts having fallen to the swell of your hips, you hitched one leg around him, hand clawing at his back, between his shoulders. “Aemond,” You moaned, overwhelmed by his barrage of erratic thrusts. His stamina was something to witness as he kept a rather vigorous pace. “My King.”

A low growl stirred within his throat, a stark warning not to continue with your current line of thought. Aemond bit at your lower lip, prompting you to moan into his mouth, but you surprised him again when you reciprocated. Things were intense, far more fiery than they ever had been before.

Battle made him hot — such a sensation wasn’t aided by your presence, intensified tenfold. With Aegon wasting away inside of his chambers, steel melting into his flesh, swarmed by flocks of Maesters, Aemond felt no remorse — none at all as he fucked you before the Iron Throne.

He felt no remorse when he ordered Vhagar to burn his brother, he felt no remorse when he brought you into his bed — and he would feel no remorse when he ascended the throne and made you his Queen.

His cock furiously battered away at your cunt, the lewdness of flesh and intermingled breaths being the only sounds that mattered. That lilac hue of his studied your countenance, the devotion and rapture that rest upon it, your complete and utter joy. Aemond had been blessed with the loveliest creature — you.

The stretch you felt as Aemond invaded your nethers was a pleasant one, your walls tight around his length as he continued to fuck you. Face to face, chest to chest — there was no room left for deception, nowhere left to turn to. With a groan, Aemond kissed you yet again.

“Kesan mazverdagon ao ñuha dāria.” I will make you my Queen; he growled into your ear, biting at the shell, the act enough to make you whimper. He filled your cunt with his cock, the only one that it would ever take. In the heat of the moment, he bit at your neck, hand gripping your thigh so hard that it was bound to leave bruises.

Darkness swallowed the hallowed halls — braziers flickering out completely, leaving only moonlight. Even through the silvery haze, Aemond’s face remained a picture of living perfection, his brow creased with concentration.

The fervor of his pace began to slow, cock throbbing with an onslaught of arousal, one that flooded his body with waves of bliss. He wasn’t neglectful of your needs, swiftly placing a hand between your bodies, thumb rubbing circles around your clit.

Heavy footfalls of guardsmen resonated from outside of the sealed doors, a nightly patrol, prompting you to shiver from worry, but Aemond did not stop — and he wouldn’t. His blazing eye bared down upon you, glistening with the sheen of lust, of obsession, a man starved of the love and devotion he so desperately chased.

Your lips felt swollen, a byproduct of Aemond’s biting, of the many shared kisses that had turned into hunger. You were ravenous for him in ways that you had little knowledge of, scraping the surface of what desire truly meant.

Silky, pale tresses fell through your digits as you threaded them within his hair, gripping it in fistfuls as you continued to kiss him until every wisp of air was stolen from your lungs. Aemond did not relent, continuing to adopt a rhythmic pace of fucking you, cock halfway out before he thrust forward again and again.

As the both of you approached the precipice, falling into a white-hot abyss, you could hear him murmuring something in High Valyrian, strings of sweet praises and compliments. His thumb continued to circle your clit even after you had your release, milking his cock with an onslaught of your nectar.

Aemond grunted, forehead nudging against yours as he snapped forward one final time, cock sheathed inside of you as he found a warm place to spill his seed. The recklessness of it was of little consequence to him — an herbal tea could remedy it, yet the thought of filling you with an heir became tantalizing.

Not yet — not now.

If his seed were to take, it would sow discord across his house, and there was enough of that already. Aemond huffed, gathering his composure as your whimpers dwindled into soft pants. His claws sank so deep into you, talons wrenched into your heart, your body, everything.

He placed a kiss upon your brow, a subtle gesture that reminded you of his lingering duality. Aemond pulled himself out of you with an onslaught of stickiness, a mess that would only be remedied by a long soak in the bath — something he would need you for.

Your chest felt tight, both from exhilaration and the intensity of it all. As you adjusted your skirts back into place, Aemond gently coaxed you to your feet, pressed close against you as he stared at the throne. “Perhaps, once I ascend, we will have to make use of the throne.” His salacious purr made you shudder.

“There is no law forbidding us from acting upon that now,” You challenged, and Aemond had to restrain himself from acting upon such a lascivious impulse. For as coy as you could be, you were just as lustful as he was at times, a quality that he greatly adored. “Your Grace.”

As much as the teasing title seemed to provoke him, Aemond grabbed your hips, lips twitching into his familiar smirk, a near-permanent expression. “Aemond,” He corrected, pressing a kiss against your jaw. “For now, I will need assistance with drawing a bath.”

The Throne’s harrowing shape cast its shadow as the both of you abandoned the dark halls and into the light of Aemond’s chambers.

copyright @ swordgrace ; please do not attempt to steal or translate my works onto other platforms or claim it as your own.

[happilyhertale]

Fire and blood - Daemon Targaryen x wife!reader

Author’s note: Before I got into my usual summary, this fic is part of a collab with a bunch of my lovely moots! @lady-phasma came to us with an ask about period sex and Daemon and being as lovely as she is, she offered us all the chance to collab on it. Choosing our own characters and how to play the story.

Please find the masterlist of everyone's fics here.

English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Summary: You haven't been married to your husband Daemon Targaryen for very long - but you've learnt to enjoy your marriage to the Rogue Prince. But unlike normality, you haven't sought out Daemon for a few affectionate visits throughout the day, and that makes him suspicious…

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x wife!reader

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Period smut; fingering (f in v), p in v sex - implied

Word count: 2.2 k

Other stories of mine

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Daemon opens the door, but only darkness reveals itself to him. He raises his eyebrows slightly, but steps into your shared chambers. He is looking for his wife, who has been by his side for several moons now.

During this time, he has already become accustomed to you seeking him out throughout the day, sometimes just to get a little peck and sometimes because you want to tell him something - but today you have not sought him out.

His heavy footsteps sound in your chambers as he walks further inside.

"Are you hiding from me, woman?" he murmurs.

He walks over to a small table with fruit and sweet dishes on it. He takes a bunch of grapes between his fingers before letting them disappear into his mouth.

"Has another moon gone by?" he asks into the room and turns to your bed, where he recognises the outline of a figure under the covers. A slight grin plays around his lips before he walks towards the bed.

But as he gets closer, he picks up an unusual scent.

"What's that smell?" he asks.

And suddenly your voice rings out, "It's oak bark tea... My abdomen is a cramp," you mumble from under the covers.

He's still smiling and comes closer to the bed.

"What have we got here? I wonder what trouble could be brewing under here," he says, reaching lightly for the blanket.

"No... Go away," you say quietly and try to hold the blanket tight.

But Daemon pulls the blanket down further and kneels on the bed with one knee.

"Ah... there you are... what a view," he says sarcastically as the blanket reveals your face. Your hair lies dishevelled on the pillow, your face a little sleepily puffy as your annoyed gaze meets his. "Yes....my beautiful wife," he says and smiles. He pulls the blanket down further and a "Go away," sounds from you again.

He smiles at your words, "Why would I do that when I have such a sight in front of me?" he says, a hint of sarcasm still in his voice again.

You sigh and try to turn away, but you feel Daemon kneel down further on the bed and his hand grips you gently.

"Ah, ah, ah," he says and lies down next to you, his arm wrapped around your middle.

His warm breath brushes the back of your neck as he presses his face into yours, "What's wrong," he whispers.

You sigh again and already feel his large, surprisingly warm hand on your abdomen... a warm touch of your dragon.

"I'm bleeding..." you say almost inaudibly, but Daemon hears your words and smiles slightly. He knows how you feel during your period. You're vulnerable and sleepy. The cramps force you to lie down and only warmth and strange teas from the maesters give you some relief... well, and other things.

But you're his wife and according to him, you should always feel carefree - but he can't refrain from teasing you a little.

"Pardon?" he whispers, smiling slightly, while you sigh lightly again.

"I'm bleeding..." you repeat your words and mumble into your pillow.

"Love..." he whispers again.

You close your eyes and feel this inner tension that tickles your fingertips.

"I'm on my period," you say a little louder into the pillow.

"Love... Sorry, I don't understand," Daemon replies and his lips graze your neck.

His behaviour makes you seethe, why can't he leave you alone?

"Daemon! Seven hells! I'm on my period! I'm in pain and I'm bleeding!", you call out and raise your head slightly.

He chuckles, "It's fine... no need to shout like that..."

You shake your head slightly, wanting to push his arm away, but he has a firm grip on you. His hand slides slowly downwards, his fingers make light, circular movements and you stiffen slightly.

"Daemon, what are you doing," you suddenly whisper.

"I want you to feel good, love... It'll help you relax..." he murmurs into your ear, nibbling lightly.

You gasp and hold his hand back, "Daemon... there's blood... a lot... it's the first day..." you say hesitantly.

He continues to nibble on your earlobe, his fingers sliding along your thigh, not in the least impressed by your words.

"You know there's nothing to be ashamed of. A woman's body is a natural, beautiful thing.... It's beautiful because it's you," he kisses your cheek and lets his nose glide gently along it. His hand strokes along your thigh and you feel a slight throbbing between your thighs alongside the numbing pain in your abdomen.

"Do you want me to take care of you?" he whispers, kissing the soft skin behind your ear.

You bite your lip lightly, but you shake your head slightly.

"Daemon... There really is a lot of blood..." you repeat your words quietly.

He chuckles softly again, another kiss landing on your neck, "Love... a true warrior isn't afraid of a little blood..." he murmurs.

His hand slides further, "Just relax..." he whispers and you try. Slowly, you close your eyes and try to concentrate on his touch as a heavy breath leaves your lips.

Gently, he kisses your neck and shoulder as he holds you close."It's nothing to be ashamed of either. Especially not my wife. It's natural," he whispers in your ear.

His fingers pull your nightgown up, very slowly. His fingers leave a fiery trail on your thigh and you try to ignore the dull ache that runs through your abdomen.

You can't suppress it, your hips begin to move in slight circular motions as his fingers glide through your pubic hair, caressing you. You gasp as you can already feel his arousal from behind as he presses himself lightly against you.

His fingers reach their destination, slowly running along your folds, and you gasp again – your legs spread slightly.

"That's it... I'll take care of you..." he whispers in your ear and you nod slightly.

The sweetest moan escapes your lips as his fingers find your pearl and apply light pressure. Your legs spread wider and a smile graces his lips.

"Daemon..." you gasp.

"I know..." he whispers, nibbling on your earlobe again as his fingers rub gently over your clit.

"Your body is natural and beautiful. Even in all its bloody glory," he whispers and you nod, your breathing quickening.

He kisses you on the cheek again as his fingers tease over your glistening entrance, gently spreading your folds.

You feel the familiar stretch as his fingers slide inside you. But not all the way in, he teases you a little and you exhale heavily, your hips moving towards his fingers, longing for his touch. And then he fulfils your craving – his fingers stretch your walls, trying to find a good angle, pushing deeper. He revels in the slickness that coats his fingers, the evidence of your arousal mingling with the blood that flows.

"Feel how wet you are for me," he whispers teasingly, his smile pressing against the back of your neck.

"Daemon!" you gasp, but also a small moan leaves your lips.

He chuckles briefly, but your concentration is once again fully on his movements as his fingers penetrate deeper.

"Gods..." you gasp and he grins. Slowly, but firmly, his fingers push forward. He can feel your walls clench, longing for release.

"You know I love all the sounds you make, but I love your moans the most. I can feel your walls tighten around my fingers as if your body wants to hold me inside you while I make you tremble..." he whispers in your ear.

You moan again as his thumb grazes your pearl. He continues his expert ministrations, he is determined to make you forget the discomfort, to lose yourself in a wave of pleasure that only he can provide.

His fingers curl inside you, beckoning you as his thumb presses against your clit again.  You press your arse against his hardness and he moans into your neck. As he feels your hips moving towards his fingers, urging for more, he complies, increasing the intensity of his movements. He curls his fingers, angling them to hit that sweet spot within you, knowing exactly how to drive you wild with desire.

"Moan for me…" he commands, his voice laced with dominance, "Let me hear your pleasure, let it echo through these chambers."

And you obey as his fingers thrust deeper. He bites into your neck as his fingers tease your walls. His fingers continue their exploration, delving deeper inside you, seeking out the spots that make you writhe with pleasure. He maintains a steady rhythm, his touch skilled and attentive to your body's responses.

Smacking noises echo in your chambers as his fingers pump in and out faster. His fingers sliding in and out of your wetness with ease. With each thrust of his fingers, he can feel the slickness and warmth of your arousal, heightening his own desire.

He starts to apply more pressure and lets a third finger slide in. He knows what you like and he gives it to you the way you need it. He stretches your walls while they continue to clench around his fingers. Daemon's eyes gleam with a mixture of desire and possessiveness as he feels your response to his touch. He revels in the power he holds over your pleasure, his fingers moving with a practiced precision.

"Oh, my sweet wife," he murmurs, the words laced with a mixture of possessiveness and anticipation. "You are so responsive, so eager for my touch."

His body presses against yours, his hard length grinding against your backside as he continues to pleasure you with his fingers. His lips find your ear, his breath hot against your skin. Your fear of smearing him with your blood is forgotten, you need more.

"Daemon... Daemon," you whimper again and again, your arm reaching back, to the back of his head. Your fingers reach into his silky hair and he grunts. As he continues to drive you towards the peak of pleasure, Daemon's own desire grows, his need for release becoming undeniable. But at this moment, he's focused solely on your pleasure, on taking you to the edge and beyond, on helping you forget your discomfort.

"Yes... my love... Come on, come on my fingers, milk them like you always milk my cock when I fuck that delicious cunt," he growls into your neck.

And that pushes you over the edge. You cry out, your walls tightening around his fingers and Daemon grunts out.

You whimper, your hand gripping his hair tighter as he kisses your neck. Your eyes are closed, your breathing rapid as he pulls his fingers out when your walls stop clenching. A pleasant warmth flows through your abdomen, soothing away the pain more effectively than every maester's tea could.

As you catch your breath, you glance slightly over your shoulder and look at Daemon. He chuckles as he looks at his fingers, they're covered in blood.

"This is a sight I couldn't have imagined at the beginning of the day..", he kisses your neck again, "But I'm going to enjoy it“, he whispers into your ear.

"Daemon, no!" you say with wide eyes.

He just grins as you avert your eyes and blush. You hear the smacking sound as he licks his fingers.

But now you have to laugh as you stare at him again – his eyes are closed and he seems to be enjoying it.

"You're impossible..." you say softly as he still licks his fingers.

"Daemon, stop it!" you say and giggle, but he just grins and pulls you closer to him again.

"Delicious," he murmurs.

He starts stroking and caressing your belly again.

His breathing slows down as he holds you close. The sounds and smell of you, your little body in his embrace, it's almost more than he can bear at this moment.

He gently grabs your chin, as if he were holding something fragile and precious, and gently pulls your head upwards. When you return his gaze, it is gentle and tender.

"And you are my wife. You may feel sick, you may bleed, sometimes I may even be the cause of your anger. But that's all part of your body's natural rhythm. So please, my sweet girl, never hide from the pain, never keep your misery a secret. Otherwise, I promise you, it will cause me more grief than your blood..." he says gently. These moments with him are rare, but you savour them – your lovely husband. You lean towards him and let your lips slide onto his. He growls slightly and you feel his hand on your arse. You giggle slightly and feel his smile on your lips.

But the grip on your arse tightens and he pulls you towards him, positioning you perfectly against his crotch. He still can't hide his excitement and you gasp slightly. Your lips are still dancing around each other, you can feel the coppery taste on his tongue as he starts to undo his trousers. He growls again as his hand spreads your cheeks slightly and presses his hardness between your thighs from behind. You whimper as his cock slides along your folds.

"Let's see if we can give you a little more relief, shall we?" he growls against your lips and you moan as the tip of his cock presses against your slick entrance.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

[arkhammaid]

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ OF DRAGON BEHAVIOUR AND OLDE TRADITIONS. 

fandom. genshin impact

pairings. neuvillette, zhongli x gn!reader

content warnings. sfw + nsfw, MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI, heavily influenced by 'dragon' behaviour (is a bit leaned on a/b/o), 5 + 1 fic type (the + 1 is nsfw), possessive neuvie/zhongli, sfw: collaring, scenting, marking, nsfw: nesting, both of them have big dicks lol, talk about breeding, not edited/proofread, written in lowercase

word count. 1.8k

notes. i'm so down bad...

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ flaunting. 

once a dragon is mated, they like to show off their mate proudly. to enhance their physical aspects and to proclaim their trust in them, mates get draped in the dragon’s treasures. treasures this mythical beast usually hoards with jealousy. the shinier and bigger the treasures, the higher is the mate in social standing. 

neuvillette is less lavish with his treasures, simply because his priorities in his riches lay elsewhere. this is why you often where the brightest pearls, adoring your neck or shiny shells around your wrists. he enhances your beauty much subtler, but nonetheless you’re still worthy to be called his mate. after all, he’s a dragon of water, it’s only right for him to drape you in the gifts of the sea. 

zhongli prefers you in the finest silk and your skin adored with gold and other treasures found in the rich land that belongs to him. as a dragon of earth and especially as geo archon, all the gems are crafted in the most beautiful jewelry. everything to enhance your beauty. he especially likes you in cor lapis, a jewel in a color that he claims as his— and seeing you in this soft hue of orange swells pride in him. 

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ collaring. 

collaring can be seen as a step further of flaunting. the dragon creates an individual collar for their mate, to not only protect one of the weakest points of their body, their neck, but to also immediately signal that they belong to them. it signals protection and ownership, which is why mates rarely part with their gifted collars,as they’re also the first gift they receive as a dragon’s mate.

neuvillette knows that collars, by human standards, are not something normal. this is why he takes great care to create a collar that not only shows his strength but also fits within the domain the two of you move. this is why your collar is not a traditional one, instead resembling a tight necklace adorned by pearls and silver. it’s just enough to calm his instincts but also a fashionable item— one for which you’ve received many compliments. 

zhongli on the other hand has crafted a collar of which his elders would be proud of. it’s heavy on your neck, made by his own hands and not your usual jewelry. despite that, the collar is made by the best gems and jewels zhongli could find, and of course in his colors. and to ensure you’re comfortable wearing such a heavy collar, the inner side is embellished with the most expensive velvet he could find. 

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ acknowledgement. 

another important aspect between the relationship of a dragon and their mate is the acknowledgement of the hunt. once the dragon has successfully brought home the game, it is now up to the mate to appraise said game. only once they give their approval can the food be shared between them. this also includes all their offspring. 

neuvillette is always very careful with the food he brings to you. he ensures he’s the only one touching it, as tradition demands, and satisfactory enough for your plate. to him, keeping you fed and happy is much more important than to take care of his own needs. even when you always scold him, when he neglects himself, in this aspect he won’t bulge. 

zhongli himself has a very expensive taste and only the best is just good enough for his mate. no matter what you say, he will hunt on his own and pick all the herbs and berries himself, or else he wouldn’t even present the food. your approval is the highest praise, only one of the many reasons why zhongli takes so much care and time to honor this tradition. 

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ scenting. 

scenting is one of the few habits and traditions that are more intimate. a dragon scents their mate for several reasons. firstly, it’s one of the final steps of their ‘ownership’ over the mate. clothed in their treasure but also bathed in their scent. secondly, the process itself is very calming for the dragon, almost meditative. 

neuvillette likes to scent you when he comes home. it calms not only his dragon but also his mind. because of that, he never scents you in public, thinking it as a private matter and a treasured one added to that. it’s not something others should witness— you in his arms, pliant to his nosing, his gentle kisses and nibs on your skin and especially when he removes your collar to scent you on your neck. 

zhongli, despite being an old dragon, behaves as if he’s freshly mated and a young blood when it comes to scenting you. he dislikes smelling others on you or any artificial scent that’s not you. he has no shame scenting you in public, but over the years living with you he has reduced to the almost scandalous behaviour to nothing more but scenting on your wrists and a quick nosing on your cheeks. 

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ marking. 

marking is quite similar to scenting, only this behaviour varies from dragon to dragon. for some, a so called ‘mate-bite’ is enough, others like to add new markings everytime they couple with their mate. but there are even some dragons, who enjoy being marked by their mates, a most unusual behaviour. 

neuvillette has always enjoyed marking you, but is very gentle with it. his mate-bite, another physical sign that you belong to him, is located on your right shoulder, a wound healed a long time ago. he much prefers when you mark him, your teeth sinking in his much sturdier flesh. it leaves him breathless, just the mere thought of you marking him making his head spin— he loves to leave his marks on you, but he even loves it more when you mark him, to tell the whole world that he belongs to you. 

zhongli always loves to admire the marks his sharp teeth leave behind, trace his fingers over your reddened skin— he’s fascinated by your vulnerability and your eagerness to please him. but what matters most to him is that you love to wear his marks, never hesitate to show them off by not hiding them. social decorum would demand for you to hide them away behind draped fabrics, but instead you proudly wear them, as if they’re badges of highest honor. 

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ nesting. 

as every other animal, be it mythical or not, dragons go through a cycle. at it’s highest point, their fertility is much more prominent. to ensure the increased chances of success in producing offspring, the biology of dragons demands them to nest during the cycle. if the dragon ignores this inner instinct, it grows irritated or even aggressive to everyone who is not their mate. nesting ensures the comfort of both the dragon and their mate and helps them to properly prepare for their coupling. 

the moment the first child of the couple is born, nesting becomes a daily thing until said child passes the first stages of growth. the dragon builds a nest in their den, a different one from the ones in which the parents couple, and ensures that both mate and offspring are within this nest. the warmth and scent of both parents help the child to imprint on them and to recognize them later on as their sires. 

neuvillette, when it comes to nesting, is very picky about it. his nest has to be ready before his cycle starts and you have to be in it as well, pliant and ready for him. if you’re not comfortable, he gets stressed and that doesn't end well. 

for the most part, he has his instincts under control, but when you’re in his nest, naked and flushed, he tends to get feral. and once he lets go of that tight control he has over himself and his body, the dragon in him comes out. 

his pupils turning to slits, fangs sharpening and nails becoming claws. scales appear on his skin, his horns grow— neuvillette lets go of his human skin and becomes the closest he can be to a dragon without hurting you. it always excites you, seeing your usual calm and stoic mate all excited about the thought of breeding you. 

he’s an attentive lover, even if he could just slide into your hole and start fucking you stupid. instead he takes immense care to prepare you, hours even, lips and hands leaving marks on your skin while he makes you cum on his tongue several times. 

and then, when you see stars behind your closed eyes, your thighs shake around his head and you try to calm your breath— then he slowly slides into you, his giant cock hitting you in all right places, making you scream again—

then, only then, when you’re pliant and open for him, a flushing mess beneath his massive body and moaning his name— only then he would truly start to fuck you. 

zhongli is very attentive during nesting, but especially as your lover. he always puts your needs above his, simply because he finds pleasure when you enjoy yourself. 

despite being mated for a long time, you’re always nervous about nesting, especially about the most intimate part of it. zhongli is big and it’s always a tight fit, even if he prepares you with his fingers and mouth. you’re never in pain, he wouldn’t forgive himself if he would make you cry, but you’re still understandably nervous. 

zhongli doesn’t mind it, he understands and instead makes sure you’re distracted enough to not lose yourself in spiraling thoughts. it also helps when you’re breathless from the countless orgasms he has already given you, your hole wet enough, almost gushing, so the slide is smooth and painless for you. 

and you can’t lie, you enjoy his big dick, but sometimes it’s too overwhelming. yet the many years together has taught him many tricks and especially things you enjoy. 

you flush beneath him, when he starts praising you, his rich voice causing goosebumps all over your body. you whimper, when his fangs craze over your skin and moan when he actually bites you. 

but you truly lose your mind when he starts fucking you, slow but deep thrusts, taking his time while you writhe beneath him. it seems so effortless, how he’s destroying you, as if he isn’t going crazy when his mate is in his nest, calling his name, clinging onto him, begging him to go faster, harder, begging for more. 

taglist. @trailblazernet , @themercyverse , @lem-hhn , @verxsyon , @auraxins , @lupicalbestwolf , @the-dumber-scaramouche , @spiriteddreams , @kiiyoooo , @8-xnny , @spiriteddreams

DO YOU WANT TO JOIN THE TAGLIST? please send a non-anon ask to be added to the taglist. taglist can be general taglist (all fandoms and all works), fandom taglist (all works within the fandom), series (all works for specific series) or nsfw taglist (all nsfw works and all fandoms).

ARKHAM MAID 2023

[sonolynn]

Death's Grasp

request | Omg your prompts!🧎‍♀️Requesting an intense "I'll make death pry me away from you." with aegon x highborn reader?

summary | After a disturbing vision, the court's Seer fears for Aegon's life.

pairing | Aegon x Fem!Seer!Reader

tags | TW!!! Descriptions of blood, murder, and battle. Swearing, OOC Aegon, swearing, implications of sexual themes, mentions of war

w.c | 1.6 k

note(s) | This fic is out of the cannon of either the show and the book for my own sanity. Also, mixing a little bit of Norse mythology into the mix! Also, I took more of a creative liberty with this request so I hope it's okay!

____________________________________________

Aegon was screaming on the battlefield, pointing towards the field and motioning for people to run. He looked frantic. His silver-blonde hair messy with soot and blood. He was panting, almost hyperventilation as the fear and anxiety coursed through his veins like a raging flood as he sent more soldiers to their death. 

You were imobile, cursed to watch as Aegon fought freakishly messy; so different from how he normally fought. You saw it clearly now, you saw his demise before him. You watched as your lover was impaled by a sword. How convenient that it was through his back. 

As if in shock himself, Aegon looked down at the sword as he fell to his knees, holding a cupped hand underneath the blade as the blood pooled from the wound. The man behind Aegon put his foot on the king’s back, grunting as he pulled the sword from your lover's body. Blood spilled from Aegon’s mouth, causing the man to choke violently. 

Aegon looked up, straight into your eyes as he coughed out your name; a final tribute to the women he’d never see again. As he breathed your name one last time, his face fell and he slumped against the ground. 

You felt sick as the next part of your vision flashed before you, a clear vision of Aegon’s head, eyes closed and unevenly severed, held in the hand of the enemy. 

____________________________________________

You awake with a scream, holding your shaky hands over your mouth as the images of Aegon’s death stay fresh in your mind. You had had visions before, all of which had come to pass. But this one was more vivid than the others, more integral than the others.  

You breathed heavily, placing your hands in your hair and taking deep breaths to ground yourself. Your breath slowed, and your hands stopped shaking. But, the anxiety that stemmed from this vision stayed on your mind like that of the smell of a newly lit candle. 

Unable to deal with the beads of anxiety burrowing themselves in your veins, you hurriedly threw the covers off of you and rushed to Aegon. 

____________________________________________

“Aegon the Dragon Cock!” One of Aegon’s imprudent men that surrounded his inner circle shouted. You walked down the steps of the throne room, and looked around,  seeing the men and their drunken display. Aegon laughed at the notion, smiling and pointing to his friend as he bounced happily like a child seeing a new toy. 

“Yes! Yes, that one!” 

“Aegon.” You spoke softly, and the minute your face broke through the laughter of men, Aegon turned, a smile on his face. 

“My love! Don’t you agree! “Aegon the dragon cock! Isn’t it perfect…” His voice trailed off. He watched you closely, noticing your disheveled appearance and bare feet. “My love?” He was quick to dismiss his men, quickly walking down the steps of the throne to stand before you. He placed a free hand on your cheek, cocking his head to the side as he studied your expression. 

“Having fun, your grace?” Aegon rolled his eyes at the question and he gave you a look. 

“You are my betrothed, you needn’t refer to me as such.” His voice was soft, and he smiled gently at you whilst stroking your cheekbone. “What is with the look?” You stayed silent for a moment, not wishing to truly tell him the cause of your displeasure. Aegon had never truly believed in your gift; The gift to see what others didn’t. Only recently, when you had told him he would become the next king of the seven kingdoms did he acknowledge that perhaps you did have a gift. 

“...I’ve missed you.” You replied, the lie hot on your tongue. Aegon smirked at this, turning and placing his cup on a nearby table. 

“We saw each other a mere..two hours ago. Was I that good, my love?” The sight of his teasing smile, and the look on his face made you breakdown. Tears ran down your cheeks, and your hands started to shake again as you were reminded of what your vision had held within itself. 

Aegon gazed at your melancholic expression made him stop, and he paused. He quickly walked back towards you.

“Darling-” He stopped when you took a step back and held a hand out. Aegon frowned deeply and he gave you a look. “...You’ve had one of those visions, haven’t you?” 

“Yes.” 

“And it has something to do with me, I presume?” You nodded. In frustration Aegon groaned, holding a hand to his forehead as he sighed. “You and those pointless visions-” 

“They are not pointless, Aegon! They hold meaning. The gods gave me this gift-” You stopped, seeing how he was muttering the same words you were. Your face hardened. “You think this to be funny?” 

“No-well, yes a little but my love-” Aegon came to you, taking your hand in his as he sighed. “These-These visions you call them are nothing but superstition!”

“My vision is what told you about your descent to the throne!” 

“A lucky guess!” You scoffed at his words, grabbing a hold of his half buttoned up shirt as you glared. 

“Why do you think my suffering funny, Aegon?!” Aegon’s face softened, and he sighed. He gently grabbed your wrist, giving you a kind look as he brought your hand up to his lips. He pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles, before he breathed out your name slowly. You stopped, hearing him say your name in such a manner reminded you of that awful vision. 

“I do not find your suffering funny. I find your incessant need to base your superstitions off of pure nightmare’s-” He spoke faster as you started to pull away from him. You avoided his gaze, clenching your jaw. You knew the look he was giving you, one of sympathy that you did not wish to see right now. 

“Tell me what you saw, sweet girl.” He came to you again, slipping a hand behind your head and holding it in his grasp as he looked down at you. He desperately tried to meet your eyes, but you were insistent on pulling away from him and his gaze. 

“You’ll think me silly.” 

“Come now, I think you silly no matter what vision you tell me of.” He smiled, though, even as he joked you couldn’t get the image of his death out of your mind. Tears started to fill your gaze, and you pulled away.

 “Sweet girl, stop pulling away from me!” He pleaded, grabbing your arms in a futile attempt to make you stop moving. You pulled your arms up, your fists resting on his chest. He breathed out your name again and that is what did it for you; what made you break.

“I saw your death, Aegon!” You yelled, which indirectly caused the drastic movement of back and forth between the two of you to stop. Aegon stared down at you, his eyes hardening and his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “I saw you…not much older than you are now. You were on the battlefield, and..you…” You trailed off, refusing to revisit the gruesome and sickening vision. 

Aegon watched you, he had seen you and your reactions to these visions before but this…this was new. The look of fear that crossed your features and the tears that filled your eyes made his heart break. He could barely handle you when you woke from one of these visions normally, but these looks and the unease that settled on your face caused his mind to go blank. 

“My sweet girl, no-” “Yes Aegon! Do you not get it! You will die and you will die at the hands of your enemies with no one around you and your head will be taken-”

“My head?” 

“-And-And you’ll be scared and I won’t be there-” 

“My love-” 

“You’ll die and you’ll leave me alone, Aegon!” You screamed. At those last words, Aegon suddenly grabbed your face, making you look at him. His own eyes held tears of his own, and he grasped your face with little strength so as to not hurt you. Your eyes widened, and you watched him closely as he maintained a fierce look in his gaze. 

“I will not leave you-” You started to pull away, crying. You always knew Aegon was a fool, but a fool to this extent? You almost wanted to laugh. 

“Not even you can defy death, Aegon!” He looked almost offended at your words. Offended that you think he would just let death take him away from you. His hands grew tighter on your cheeks, locking your eyes again as he leaned forward and pushed his forehead against yours. He took a breath, steadying the anger in his voice before he spoke. 

“I’ll make death pry me away from you.” He spoke softly, his voice slipping with emotion as he leaned forward and kissed you. And you let it happen. 

You enjoyed the kiss, letting nothing but Aegon and his lips consume your thoughts. It was nice, for a while. The notion that a mere mortal could defy the will of the gods. You knew that visions could change, and you sure to gods hoped this one would change. But, for now, you were happy to just bask in his arms and be with him. 

When Aegon pulled away he looked down at you. As you went to speak he shook his head and smirked a bit.

“Don’t speak.” He whispered, and you obeyed. The two of you stood in the middle of the throne room, Aegon’s hands holding your face and grounding you from your anxious thoughts, and you let him. You stayed in his arms, letting him kiss your face and your lips softly until you no longer thought of his death; until you only thought of him.

[01zfan]

dragon teeth | l. sh

singer!sohee x bartender!reader | 13.8k words

sohee installment of my rock the house seriez. Dragon Teeth makes music that sounds like the album Welcome Interstate Managers by Fountains of Wayne and this fic is heavily inspired by the song Hackensack on that album! hope you guys enjoy!

contains: semi public sex (in a car in an empty parking lot late at night), protected sex, fwb, biting and mentions of cannibalism (NOT LITERALLY), unhappy ending

Sohee unfortunately always had a dream for his life that was bigger than himself. When he turned one and he had his doljabi ceremony he crawled right past the graduation cap, the piggy bank, and ruler to go straight for the microphone. His mom described the party going completely silent. In a room full of doctors and lawyers Sohee grabbed the plastic toy microphone and refused to let go. In the pictures from that day his parents had completely straight faces while holding a smiling Sohee that was gumming on the plastic head of the toy.

Sohees’ family thought he would grow out of his dreams of becoming a singer. They thought that as he grew older and he realized how tough the world truly was he would choose a job that kept a roof over his head and food on the table. He swore that was the reason why his parents moved to a place that was simultaneously in the middle of nowhere but so close to the big city. Sohee believed that they thought that the mundane suburbs and the frigid winters would take away his voice. But he taught himself to tune the instrument in his throat and project his voice through the falling snow and sing through the cold that bit the back of his throat. Sohee did well in school despite not caring for anything outside of singing. He did it as a sign of respect to his parents and to show them that he was fully capable of excelling academically, he just didn’t want to do it. 

When he learned to drive sophomore year of highschool, the first thing Sohee did was get a job at a record store. The record store was at the midpoint between his house and the city. He worked there during the weekends, sitting at the cash register as he did his homework and watched the people coming in and out. The record store was where he met the two other members of his band. Seunghan was the only regular that never bought anything, he only constantly browsed and examined the same records Sohee had in his home. Sohee eventually started a conversation with him, sharing a rhetorical finally made a choice? when Seunghan bought his first vinyl. After playful banter they hit it off, and then a week later came Wonbin.

Wonbin was the one who technically started the band. He came into the record store asking if he could put up a flyer. LOOKING FOR VOCALIST AND BASS GUITAR was typed in the most punk-esque font available with Wonbin’s number as a detachable tab at the bottom. Sohee told Wonbin he knew a guy and the rest was history. The three of them discovered together that they had had an affinity for music and plans beyond their boring hometown (except Wonbin, because he was actually born and raised in the city).

By the time sophomore year was coming to an end Sohee, Wonbin, and Seunghan had a band and they would meet after Sohee’s shifts to practice. 

Being in such a close proximity to music made Sohee believe that he was working towards his goal of becoming a musician. But when his lemon broke down on the freeway and his parents refused to go out of their way to take him to work Sohee was forced to quit. 

He no longer had a job and nothing to remind him what he was working towards. the first weekend he spent at the family dinner table was shrouded in a tense silence. Sohee stared at his plate of jjambbong, wishing that he lived in a place where there were more options than hot stew to try and beat the cold. Despite his inner turmoil, Sohee’s families dishware hit their bowls all the same, dinner did not stop for his pity party. The only acknowledgement Sohee got of his struggle was his Dad clearing his throat from the spice before looking to his son.

“If you’re looking for a job, the new guy stopped showing up a week ago.” Sohee’s dad took another sip of his soup while Sohee clutched his hand tighter around his spoon. “His job needs to be filled.” He said.

Despite having being extremely weak, only weighing 140 pounds when soaking wet with shoes on, and being a blue collar workers worse nightmare, Sohee thought he had the upper hand in the situation. He never once thought for a second his Father was offering him a stable job out of pity. Sohee only ignored the offer, telling himself I’ll take my talents somewhere else. That night he rang Seunghan and Wonbin on his Nokia 7650 and told them they have to get serious about the band. At the top of Sohee’s mental list was making a demo, then right under that was finding an agent and selling a million records then selling out shows. When Wonbin yelled into the receiver With what money? Sohee added getting gigs to the top of the list.

That’s what led Sohee to the stage. Except the stage wasn’t a sold out show at Madison Square Garden, it wasn’t the Apollo Theater or Radio City Music Hall, it wasn’t even the standing room at Irving Plaza. Sohee, Seunghan, and Wonbin were on the small wooden stage performing to the usual Friday night crowd at his local dive bar. 

The three yellow lights that shined on him and his bandmates were blinding. In the beginning when they didn’t know what to do about the lights and they were still nervous about performing in front of others, Wonbin and Seunghan would be so blinded by the light that they would play the wrong notes. They eventually learned to play with their eyes closed, or to move around the stage so the lights beamed on their shoulders instead of their eyes. Sohee however refused to back down to the light, he learned that he had to point his eyes downward and furrow his brows to alleviate the brightness. 

The view of the men in their business suits wasn’t much better than the light blinding him. The way they sat in their leaning bar stools with backs facing the band was almost abysmal. The trio still fought hard for the attention of grown men who couldn’t care less, even if there was less than five feet of space separating them from the wooden stage they performed on. They sang songs to try and get the most amount of tips. Pop was last week, which only earned chump change and boos from the contractors with dirty and rough hands. The week before that was RnB, which only a few seemed to enjoy. What always earned the band the most money was performing sad dreary songs that matched the mood of the bar. Sohee sang the lyrics to an old sad rock song while looking at the exposed asscracks of the swaying drunk men in front of him. 

God this was depressing. 

Sohee didn’t know why he always found himself at this dingy bar. There were plenty of other bars in his hometown, ones filled with young adults that wanted to have a good time instead of middle aged men that hated their lives and were stingy with their pocket change. Sohee’s bandmates knew it too. Each week Wonbin would groan and Seunghan would roll his eyes before saying that place, again? All three of them knew that they’d be better off trying to raise funds for studio time by working for Sohee’s dad. But the hours were even worse than this and they had no skill or the means to do good when it came to manual labor. 

“What other choice do we have?” Sohee would always reason.

(They had plenty of other choices; all three of them knew it.)

But Sohee ignored the shortcomings of the bar for the most part. He told himself there was some sort of midwest-on-the-east-coast charm that no other place had. Because of his hometowns proximity to the big city there was always a sort of disingenuous aura that circled many places the younger crowd frequented. Bars wanted to be like the city without being in the city, and it always seemed pitiful. Also the chance of running into someone they graduated with made all three of them feel physically ill. The important thing was that Dragon Teeth prided itself on being authentic, and there was nothing more authentic than the dive bar off the highway in a rural town that smelled like smoke and served the working class. 

Sohee always told himself he’d miss the bar when he eventually made it big. Maybe he’d reference it in a song or talk about it on a podcast in twenty years or mention it in his autobiography. He’d talk about the perpetually broken jukebox that only played Neon Moon by Brooks & Dunn, the squeaky seats that all leaned to the side, and the pretty bartender that he sang songs for.

You and Sohee came up side by side throughout public school. In a small town, you ended up going to school with the same people your whole life. the people you sat by in kindergarten you would end up seeing at your graduation, with both parties pretending like they didn’t grow up parallel to eachother. So Sohee knew of you, but he didn’t necessarily know you. He knew the basics, like your anime phase in fifth grade, and the indie rock band phase in seventh grade. He knew that you went through a terrible breakup your freshman year, but not as bad as the falling out with your friend group junior year. Sohee knew that you took messy notes but had tidy handwriting and you always had your phone within arms reach.

Sohee told himself he would finally speak to you senior year when you were assigned to the same table first period, because who the hell gives seating assignments to seniors? the proximity he had to you was nothing less than fate. 

Sohee remembered showing up to class early the next day waiting for you to come through the door. He shifted in his plastic red seat a million times expecting to see you trudge through the open door. But when the bell rang and the teacher started doing role call to a half empty classroom Sohee suddenly realized that no senior who had a car would come to a meaningless first period class.

Because of your absence permanent absence in class, Sohee only saw you in passing—another benefit about going to a small public school—until graduation. But there was no way he was going to talk to you and stop the flow of traffic in the double space hallway. What he wanted with you either had to be through a painfully awkward interaction in class that would be interrupted by the teacher or nothing at all. So he let bygones be bygones, he let you pass by him on your way to the classes you actually attended and before he knew it, he had graduated. Sohee saw you with your family for the first time, and he found out through a senior ceremony that you had the same plan he did after graduation—absolutely nothing.

But unlike you, Sohee told himself that he was keeping his big plans a secret. Only him and the other members of Dragon Teeth knew that they planned on becoming a famous indie band that was going to sell out arenas and sell a bajillion records. The only thing that was stopping them was their lack of a demo tape, a record label, and an actual band name (Dragon Teeth was just a stand in, but Sohee was working hard to change the minds of Seunghan and Wonbin). 

Sohee ended up at the dive bar because his band needed the extra funds. Just when the temperature started dropping and the reality of studio cost time started setting in, they remembered that they needed money to run a band.

In the beginning they performed at any bar that would take them. The trio would play whatever songs to get the most amount of money, even if it came at the cost of their musicality. They sacrificed being seen as serious musicians to take song requests, no matter how ridiculous. They jumped from place to place, collectively agreeing that they were becoming skeeved out from the band they were becoming. 

The three of them would’ve never thought that they’d find authenticity at the rundown dive bar off the highway. Initially the three of them thought the place was abandoned. No signage on the bar indicated sign of life other than the flashing WE’RE OPEN sign. 

“Can’t be worse than The Goalpost.” Wonbin said hopefully.

Sohee and Seunghan nodded while leaving Wonbin’s car. They had a plethora of terrible experience at The Goalpost. The three of them frequented the bar due to the amount of tips they would receive, but it always came with a price. There was a time when a girl threw up in Wonbin’s guitar case right as they were done for the night and there were several instances of drunk college students stealing Sohee’s microphone acting like it was karaoke night. The most recent event—and the one that drove them away from The Goalpost entirely—was the random bar fight  over two rival colleges that ended with the police being called and Seunghan getting punched in the face. They silently recalled suddenly being caught in the middle of people screaming while they sang We Are The Champions. Sohee remembered pressing a piece of raw meat to Seunghan’s face thinking it would cure his incoming black eye as they got closer and closer to the bar. The rotting wood of the steps slightly gave underneath their feet, the only thing that willed them forward was remembering the bar owner of The Goalpost trying to take a portion of their earnings.

“Can’t be worse than The Goalpost.” Seunghan echoed.

Wonbin nodded and reached forward towards the door. Immediately when he applied pressure to the rusty handle of the door it leaned so far forward it almost broke off it’s hinges. Wonbin yelped and pulled even harder on instinct, forcing Sohee and Seunghan to quickly press their hands to the chipping wood to keep it anchored to the wall. For a moment the three of them were caught in limbo, with Wonbin pulling on the door while Sohee and Seunghan pushed.

“Just let it lean!” An annoyed voice yelled from inside the bar.

When quiet laughter followed and they realized they made fools of themselves, the three of them took their hands timidly away from the door. They flinched in unison when it started leaning further and further to the ground, but it came to a slow creaking stop with just enough space for the three of them to slink through. The three of them inched past the door, all of them terrified the door was going to give in and close on them.

From outside, it was easy to tell that the bar wasn’t very well lit. Besides the flickering WE’RE OPEN sign and a dim blue light that could be seen through the window there was nothing that could be seen from the outside. But being inside the bar was significantly worse. Anything past his mid-calf was swallowed by darkness. The only indication that they were even stepping on the ground was the slight stick underneath the soles of his shoes. The primary lighting was from the purple and blue hues of the jukebox and the illumination from the ancient tiny television that seemed to be on a permanent rerun of sports. There was a communal remote for the television, sitting atop the bar in front of the limited and extremely vintage six dispenser tap machine (there were plastic bags covering the two taps in the middle, so it was really four). 

Even in the dark, everything looked like it creaked or was sticky or both. There was no stage, there were barely people occupying the barstools and chairs. Patrons were coming and going, all of them passed Sohee and his two confused bandmates as they gravitated towards their seats. Everyone seemed to know where they were going, drifting towards their unofficial assigned seats as they looked towards the television.  They seemed alarmingly content in the stuffy atmosphere of the bar. No one paid attention to the band outside of their run-in with the door. As if nothing happened everyone went back to nursing their beers and sitting around in complete silence.

“This is actually much worse than The Goalpost.” Wonbin said outloud. No one turned in their seats, Sohee swears he even heard someone make a sound of agreement.

“Lucky’s is going to open soon,” Sohee started turning towards the still open door. “if we hurry we might be able to perform there for the night.” He said.

Seunghan and Wonbin nodded, casting one more glance at the dark bar before turning following behind their leader. 

Sohee was so close to escaping. Later that week Sohee would be told by Anton that Lucky’s was packed and there was a large party of people looking for a band to play Taylor Swift. Anton told Sohee that they were throwing money around like it was a strip club while they did karaoke on their open tabs. That night at Lucky’s would’ve bought them studio time three times over, but right as they were about to push through the leaning door you came from the cramped back of house with beer glasses in your hands.

“Is that Lee Sohee?” You said.

Sohee turned around slowly, seeing that his bandmates were already frozen. Sohee was the last of his band to see you in the flesh, standing behind the bar looking at him. You set the beer glasses on the wooden bar in front of you, and for the first time that night he had the attention of everyone in the bar. He was a deer caught in the headlights and you were behind the car, mouth agape before turning into a smile.

“What brings you here?” You continued.

Like a spotlight had shined directly on him, Sohee was at a loss for words. Everyone in the bar still had their eyes on him, even Wonbin and Seunghan turned to look at him. He was blessed that in the darkness of the bar no one could see the red on the tip of his nose or his ears. All anyone saw was Sohee sheepishly look towards his two bandmates before clearing his throat.

“We perform at bars—”

“Our jukebox literally broke last night!” Sohee watched you put your hands on the bar and lean forward towards him. For a moment he’s taken back to first period, how he missed having you beside him all year. “And here you three are the next day—almost like it’s fate.” You said smiling.

You said it’s fate—how could Sohee possibly go anywhere else? 

His bands permanent residence started that night. The Goalpost and Lucky’s didn’t stand a chance when he saw your eyes light up. When you nodded quickly after Sohee offered to add ambience to the bar—despite Wonbin and Seunghans’ clear faces of shock—he knew they would be spending as much time as they could there.

Sohee went from barely seeing you to having you partially at his disposal seven nights a week. He never brought up that he knew so much about you, but he was on the receiving end of your care. Sohee watched you offer free drinks for a year to whoever built a stage for his band to perform on. Within the week the wooden stage was erected and even had enough room and spacing to account for the instruments and cords on the rare occasion Wonbin brought out his electric guitar. 

Sohee wondered if you were keeping your big life plans a secret like he was. One night when it wasn’t busy and you didn’t have to run around to tend to your customers, he leaned over the bar one night and got extra close to you to feign closeness and privacy when he asked you about your plans. You truly seemed taken aback by his question, only giving him a shrug as you pulled on the Brotherton IPA tap. 

”I’m not too sure.” You said while avoiding eye contact. “I haven’t thought about it too much.”

In the awkward silence Sohee realized the rest of his conversation was contingent on your answer. He was grasping at nothing, the moment to talk to you was fleeting as the beer glass was almost filled to the top.

“My band is going to do really well.” He spoke quickly trying to fill in the gap. When you looked up at him from the tap he only doubled down. “We are gonna sell a bunch of records and sell out shows.” Sohee said.

“Oh really?” You asked with amusement. 

Sohee averted his eyes down to the beer glass as you pushed the creaky tap back up to it’s original position. He felt a strong sense of pride having your full attention, you only gave the person who ordered the beer a simple head nod as you stayed focused on him. 

Maybe he was partially at fault for your non-answers. He didn’t know whether to believe your lack of plans or not, but he never had the chance to ask you what you were saving all your money for because he had the tendency to ramble off about his band in your presence. It was especially hard to find the time to pry about your personal life when he only got the chance to see you alone in the confines of your car before proceeding to do what you always did on nights you worked and he sang for you.

Nights when you would close the bar and Sohee would perform—which was almost every night—had almost become a routine. After you gave Sohee the signal for last call his band would perform one final song. After Seunghan or Wonbin thwarted Sohee’s attempt to say the band’s name (tonight it was Wonbin. He cleared his throat obnoxiously into the microphone so feedback was over Sohee saying This was Dragon Teeth) the band would pack up their things and get ready to go. The band would work around the microphone stands and the wires onstage to pack up their instruments while the stragglers left the bar. Occasionally they would get more tips on their way out. Crumpled dollar bills would find their way into Wonbin’s guitar case or placed on Sohee’s hands by sweaty palms. Sohee would replay the gruff keep up the good work kid as he handed the tip money to Wonbin for safe keeping. Only after you turned the lights on would the final person sway out of the bar and bid his drunk final regards. 

Each time the regular lights went up Sohee would have to squint his eyes in an effort to adjust. He’d always be shocked about how abysmal the place looked when everything lit up. The dark brown finish of the bar had countless scratches and water stains from people who didn’t use coasters, the tables were all different colors and uneven on one side at the very least, and every single piece of wall decoration had a yellow tint from age. You were the only redeeming thing in the place and Sohee more often than not found himself looking at you instead of packing his things up. By the time his bandmates were leaving the bar he was only halfway done, instead focused on watching you wipe off the bar counter and tabletops. When Seunghan and Wonbin were making their way to the exit, Sohee was watching your focused face count the tills.

“Sohee.” 

He was never sure if it was Wonbin or Seunghan calling his name, he would just look to them with their instrument cases in hands and defeated looks on their faces as they flicked their heads through the door.

“You coming or what?” Seunghan asked.

All the way to the car, Sohee would act like he would be joining them. But when they made it to Wonbin’s beat up 2000 Honda Accord, Sohee would always have an excuse lined up. Sohee would look his friends dead in the face and lie saying I forgot my mic pack, She’s going to give us our tips,or I forgot to ask her if we are good for tomorrow. Anything to avoid telling his bandmates She’s going to give me a ride home because we have sex in her car every night, remember? 

Without fail, Wonbin and Seunghan would only shrug before loading up in the silver car and heading home. Sohee didn’t know if they thought there was something going on and even if it never got in the way of the bands activities he still felt guilty for it. He was the de facto leader of Dragon Teeth due to him being the main vocalist and the one who was essentially in charge of getting the gigs. Sohee often wondered while waiting for you to finish closing if he would be kicked out of the band in the instance Wonbin and Seunghan found out about you two. They had no reason to give Sohee the boot, but when Sohee felt extra guilty he would always help them load their things into Wonbin’s trunk and make plans for the band the next day.

“Let’s meet at Wonbin’s house around noon and finish writing that song.” Sohee said after slamming the trunk closed.

“I work at the cafe tomorrow.” Wonbin rubbed his eyes with both of his hands before finishing the rest of his sentence. “Not off ‘till one.” He said.

Seunghan was already in the passenger seat leaning it back to take a nap. Sohee nodded before changing the plans to start at three, earning a tired yes from his bandmates. Wonbin got up from leaning against the side of his car car to go inside. The old thing came to life right next to Sohee and he acted like he was considering getting inside. Sohee felt his heart begin to race in its cage, as he watched Wonbin roll down the window and raise his eyebrows at him.

“What are you doing?” Wonbin asked.

His bandmates voice was already deep from exhaustion and annoyance. Sohee knew better than to push his buttons so he gave up the theatrics quickly. He ignored the hammering in his chest to lean down o eye level with Wonbin as his fingers anxiously tapped on the window. He saw that Seunghan’s head was already lulled to the side as he snored loudly.

“I’m gonna stay behind. She closed later than usual so i’m a li—”

“Alright.” Wonbin interrupted Sohee before he could give a half-assed reason why. “Text me when you get home.” He said.

Before Sohee could even reply, he watched Wonbin’s window back up as he was looked behind him to back out of the parking space. Sohee backed away from the car waved goodbye before Wonbin turned out of the parking lot and left completely.

When Wonbin’s taillights were out of sight, Sohee was completely still for a moment. He looked at your lonely car in its secluded parking space then back to the bar. There was fleeting thought in his mind that he should’ve gone home with his bandmates. But he was shamefully uninterested in sitting in silence with Wonbin and Seunghan when he could be sitting in silence with you. So Sohee kicked the rocks underneath his feet and stuffed his already cold hands into the pockets of his hoodie as he started carefully calculating how long it would take you to finish closing the bar.

Sohee eventually meandered underneath the only functioning lamp post in the basically empty parking lot. He knew that after the sun went down the temperature was going to drop, but it seemed to be getting even colder as he stood outside. He prayed for some sort of warmth underneath the flickering light in the parking lot. His jacket pockets provided little to no relief, and the quick vaporized puffs of air did nothing to warm his body. He tried jumped up and down and moving in place, but any warmth brought to his limbs vanished almost instantly. He looked around to the staff exit before cutting his eyes to the three other lamp posts that had burnt out bulbs and offered no illumination in the dead of night. Sohee walked around the concrete base of the singular working lamp post, he wrapped his hand around the cold metal circumference of the lamppost and spun in a circle like a child. He kicked tiny rocks and checked the time on his tiny phone screen—How long did it take to close down a bar anyway?

When the lamp post he stood under started flickering, Sohee felt himself finally start to get nervous. He thought about the odds of being mugged in this dimly lit parking lot. The chances were slim, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t happen. Maybe a drunk and disorderly businessman was lurking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect opportunity to attack. Maybe there was someone sketchy coming off the highway looking for the perfect victim. Sohee looked around suspiciously, waiting for a culprit to pop out from behind a tree trunk or come out from underneath your car. A shiver ran through his body before he pulled his hoodie up over his head, trying to make himself seem bulkier and scarier than he actually was. Sohee took his hands from his pockets to check his phone again.

After he saw only a minute had passed he stuffed his phone back into his pocket and blew warm air into his hands again. When the lamp post flickered again he looked up, praying silently it wouldn’t go out leaving him in complete darkness. Sohee’s eyes also focused on the bugs circling the light and he wondered if the insects were thinking the same thing. They circled the light like it was a life source, a phenomenon that was a scientific mystery—Did they think the light was leading them the way? Were they following the warmth? Were they blinded? Were they looking for an escape?

“Am I a bug?” Sohee wondered out loud.

“What?” 

Sohee turned around at the sound of your voice. Of course he missed you coming out and didn’t hear your feet dragging on the pavement and of course he embarrassed himself in front of you.

“What did you just say?” You repeated. 

When you were in front of Sohee, he noticed that your eyes didn’t tilt upwards to pay attention to the flickering lightbulb. He figured you were used to things breaking and not working so much to the point that it didn’t even register you two were about to be left in complete darkness. You only continued looking at him, with your hip cocked to the side and your head tilted the same way. For the first time in his life, Sohee wished that the lightbulb would suddenly go out. Something about being in complete darkness in the cold was more comforting than being underneath your scrutinizing stare. But was it really scrutiny if you seemed so happy to see him? You looked at him with wonder, but Sohee still felt intimidated as he started rubbing his suddenly not-so-cold hands together. The lamp post seemed to be intimidated too, because the light that was going to burn out any second started shining steadily, maybe even brighter than before. A shiver ran through Sohee’s body as your face was fully lit for him and he remembered he was cold. You did a once over of him, staying on the pulled drawstrings of his hoodie.

“Nothing.” Sohee shook his head when he remembered he was supposed to answer your question. “Just thinking out loud.” He said.

Sohee was able to see your head cocked to the side in confusion only for a moment longer before you walked past him towards your car. He followed after you, looking down at your work crocs that dragged on the paved parking lot and kicked up rocks. He was surprised he didn’t hear you trudge towards him. The work day seemed to weigh down heavily on your entirely body. He watched your shoulders sag as he went to the passenger side and when he looked at you over the top of the car he could see the shadow of forming eye bags. You ruffled in your purse, moving around things that didn’t need to be in there in search of your keys. If it was any of Sohee’s friends, he would’ve started impatiently pulling at the handle in annoyance and complaining about waiting in the cold. But with you he only bounced on his feet to try and stay warm and looked at you.

He didn’t complain nearly as much as he should’ve while around you. The worst part was that he knew had plenty to complain about. 

Both of you got into the car at the same time. You closed your door first and manually put the lock down. Sohee closed his door afterwards and pressed the automatic button on the door. He shuffled in his seat, trying to become comfortable and force his body to warm up as he rubbed his hands together. while you sorted out your things, Sohee stole glances at you trying not to make his looks obvious. Anytime your head would even tilt towards his general direction he would blow hot air into his hands, trying to cover up what he was really doing. 

Sohee watched you put your water bottle in the cupholder before moving your bag towards the feet space of the passenger side. The two of you had done this enough that you made a routine, you didn’t have to tell Sohee excuse me anymore. He knew that your bag wasn’t going in the backseat because it would be occupied soon, and that your bags temporary residency was the space beside his feet. He moved his feet more than he had to without saying a word, and you slipped your purse in space he made for you.

“Thanks.” You said.

Sohee hummed while turning on the light in the front center of your car. The yellow glow filled the space of your dads old 2003 Forester. You often said it was the best thing he’s done for you as a father, arguably the only thing. The car was a shade of deep green except for the gray scrape in its side from when your Mom got in a fight with a shopping cart and lost, but it ran well and had an insane amount of space in the back row of seats. You seemed to like it too, despite it being completely different from the cars girls your age drove. You often referred to the car as your baby and didn’t take kindly to messes. Sohee (as far as he knew—he didn’t know how many men you drove around and he didn’t want to know) was the only person, besides you, that was allowed to eat and drink inside of the vehicle. 

Sohee was also the only person (once again, he hoped) you let fuck you in the backseat. 

He could already see it in your eyes, no longer low from sleep but something arguably far more tiring. From the overhead light Sohee could already see the shine on the glassy surface of your eye. They did quick looks of his whole body, darting from his neck to his hands that were clasped tightly together. 

Even if Sohee felt the same excitement that was written clearly on your entire person, he still leaned against the passenger side door when you put your elbows on the center console to come closer to him. Anytime you rocked slightly closer Sohee felt excitement and panic shoot up his spine at the same time, causing his hair to stand on end.

This was the part of the routine when Sohee would look shyly away from you and fail to hide his smile. An exhale from you would fill the air of your car and then stillness would overtake it. He imagined in this moment you let your tiring day that you compartmentalized come to the surface just so you could kiss and fuck it away. After that, Sohee would still be looking down where his seat and the center console met while he listened to you move around in your thick jacket to compensate for the sudden heat that came across your body. Sohee would wonder to himself what was in the crack of his seat and the center console, wondering if the plastic Casio watch he stole from his sister was still somewhere deep in there. Sometimes he swore he could hear the short beep from a new hour when your car was too silent. Maybe he was imagining things, because you never reacted to the sound. 

When your hand reached across the center console of your car Sohee had to silently remind himself why he hated this town and his life so much. He drew in a deep breath when you pinched at the sleeve of his thin hoodie in a shy and silent command for him to come closer to you.

This town is nothing.

Sohee turned in the passenger seat and planted his hands on the center console. You turned fully in your seat, pressing against your steering wheel to avoid honking the horn.

It’s so disconnected from the arts.

You both slowly started leaning forward. Sohee could feel you hold the fabric of his hoodie a little tighter. Your fingers pressed into his wrist as you lightly pulled him towards you. 

There’s nothing to do here.

Sohee could see his shadow casted on your face as you two invaded eachothers space more and more. He could see the overhead light of your car swimming in your eyes. He imagined how you two looked from the outside, one of the two sources of light in this parking lot. He wondered if anyone off the highway could see you two, if they wondered what was going on inside of a car at this time of night. Sohee’s hand went from the center console to hold your face. You leaned into his palm as your other hand gripped his shoulder.

I hate it here.

Sohee watched you lick your lips and part them slightly. He did the same and waited for impact like you were an asteroid falling from the sky. Sohee was a Quetzalcoatlus, flying freely in the sky not knowing that he was about to die. 

He heard the deep muffled beep in the back of his mind before he opened his partially closed eyes. Sohee suddenly felt the urge to remind himself what he was doing this all for as he pulled away from you slightly.

“How’d I sing today?” Sohee asked.

His attempt to calm the racing thoughts in his mind pulled you from the moment. Sohee felt sick relief at your rapid blinking as you tried registering his question. Seeing the gears turn in your mind gave Sohee enough time to think clearly and stop his heart from jumping out of its cage. His eyes snapped to the dimly lit backseat of your car as you licked your lips again.

“You did amazing.” Your voice was somehow already hoarse as you reached forward and gently pulled at the top of his zipper. “You know you’re my favorite singer.” You said.

This town isn’t all that bad. The winters were manageable and heavy snow storms are one of the few wonders left in the world. There are decent shopping malls and a brewery that has a good scene. There was a cute two bedroom apartment that was also only an hour from Midtown Manhattan, and an hour and fifteen minutes away from the cheapest recording studio in New York (which was upstate in the opposite direction, but that’s besides the point). 

You looked to Sohee’s face one last time before fully focusing on his hoodie. Sohee looked down to your hands that were barely peaking past the sleeve of your oversized jacket as you slowly started unzipping him.

This small town was a hidden gem in America. They sometimes filmed Hallmark movies here. Maybe if I talked to the right people I could land a job making the soundtrack, or at the very least help the person who makes it.

You pulled Sohee’s zipper half way down before you started reaching for your own jacket. The sound of multiple buttons unclasping at once made Sohee realize he had a job to do. He  started working himself out of his own jacket, a rushed hand pulling his zipper down the rest of the way. You were somehow faster, your jacket was off your arms and behind your body by the time Sohee finally took his hoodie off. He was fumbling with his brown leather belt as smiled and kissed his forehead before clearing the center console to head to the backseat.

He couldn’t get the belt off of him no matter how hard he tried. He swore something was holding his belt together, like a tiny invisible elf was holding on the metal that was in the first hole of his held. Sohee always fumbled in moments like these, when he needed his hands the most they seemed to fail him. For a moment he was transported to an embarrassing moment at his sixth grade talent show where he fumbled while trying to play the piano. When he heard the sound of your pants being pulled off your body he got even more impatient. After letting out a deep breath he went to his shirt quickly, pulling his graphic tee off with one hand and throwing it into the drivers seat. His hands went back to the belt after, and the sound of the buckle finally coming loose filled the car with a clanking metal sound.

“Sohee.” He looked behind him to see you reach forward to put your bra in the drivers seat on top of the Star Wars logo printed to his shirt. “Please hurry.” You whined. 

Sohee had his jeans at his ankles in seconds. He pulled his legs out the same time he was clambering over the center console to follow you. When he was situated on the side opposite of you he regained some of his composure back. He patiently pulled his leg out the rest of the way and tossed his jeans diagonally to lay on top of your bra. He reacted to the sound of his belt buckle knocking your window but you did not. Your eyebrow only twitched slightly as you leaned back against the window, and Sohee’s attention was pulled to you entirely. He looked at your perked nipples poke through the material of your tight shirt and the way it rode up to reveal the tiny bow at the top of your panties.

Sohee settled into the door on the opposite side from you. He developed the habit of following your every move, leading to tension that was so thick you could cut it with a knife. He was unmoving, like you were going to pounce any second and you would pinch the fabric of the clothes you still wore. Sohee wondered if it was a nervous habit of yours, if you weren’t always sure he actually wanted you and you were playing with the hem of your tight shirt to distract yourself from your thoughts. Admittedly moments of silence like this when before you two would fuck in your car was entirely too intimate for casual fuck buddies. When you stared at Sohee and he stared back he got the insane urge to tell you that he knows you, and that he wanted to ell you if you ever bothered to come to your first period class senior year. 

(He also wanted to tell you that lately he started hearing you voice in every song about love and every romance movie. He actually had to do a double take when watching Romance & Cigarettes in Wonbin’s apartment because for a split second he thought you were an extra beside Christopher Walken on the busy streets of Queens, New York. He also swore he heard your voice as one of the little sea turtles when he saw Finding Nemo in theaters with his sisters. This was surprisingly harder to disprove because he couldn’t see your face.

He also wanted to tell you that he would spend an eternity just staring at you underneath the dim light of your car before kissing you in the dead of winter, even if it came at the cost of his career. But Sohee knew somethings, especially that thing was better left unsaid. You would unfortunately just have to suffer through short moments of insecurity so Sohee could keep his sanity. 

Yes, he knew it was selfish, but what rockstar isn’t?)

The overhead light made you look like a dream in front of Sohee, and he hated the shadows in the car for obstructing his vision. When you moved in your nipples poking through your shirt turned to shadows, and he could barely see the way your thighs pressed together. He wanted to see you clearly, he wanted to touch you so badly that he had to remind himself of the other things he wanted in his life.

You started scooting towards Sohee’s side of the car and he had to remind himself he wouldn’t be here in a years time. When you placed your hand on his thigh opposite of your body he told himself that he wanted a Grammy. When you started rubbing the soft skin of his inner thigh everything else left his mind, his mental vision board slipped through his fingers like sand.

You kissed his bare shoulders once and Sohee sighed to lean his head against the back row of seats. He lifted the arm that was in between your two bodies and wrapped it around your shoulder to pull you closer to him. You burrowed deeper into Sohee’s side as your lips travelled from his shoulder to his cheek neck. For a moment you stayed there, your lips found its home where his neck and shoulders met. Sohee felt your hot breath fan the area before your lips poked past your cheek and wet the area. Sohee panic response was fully alert, he bent his neck to the side as a reflex when he felt your teeth press into his skin. With a laugh you showed him mercy, and started trailing your lips up the side of his neck. He puckered his lips and kissed the air the same time you would kiss his bare skin. He already seemed lost, he had to close his eyes to remember who he wanted to become. Focusing on anything but you was embarrassing but it was something Sohee had to do to keep the noises he wanted to make at bay. 

His other hand went to your thigh as he tried maneuvering you to come on top of him. You ignored his obvious advances—to ironically distract himself from you with your body—instead moving your hand painfully slow to rest on top of the bulge in his boxers. You let your hand settle deeper on Sohee’s clothed dick, and like a reflex Sohee’s hand on your shoulder tightened its grip.

“Holy shit.” He breathed.

Usually when you two would mess around in your car after your shift, it was one or the other. Either Sohee would get a handjob that was embarrassingly wet and almost humiliating while you were completely clothed and he was completely naked, or you would ride him while you kept only your shirt on and let the seat back so Sohee could pathetically look up at you. So when you stayed in your shirt, and the backseat of your car stayed upright, Sohee foolishly thought he was only going to feel your walls clamp around him tonight. But he felt your hand tighten its grip around the clothed tip of his dick before you worked through the fly of his boxers. Sohee’s hand that cradled your face twitched and his lips faltered when he felt your hand around his dick.

“What are you doing?” He whimpered and bucked his hips just from your hand wrapping around the base of his dick.

Your eyes were already wet a blown out from want when you started slowly jerking him off. Sohee regretfully kept his eyes on you, waiting for an answer as to why you were torturing him. The routine you two made was important, but you were abandoning it just to revel in his pathetic whines and twitching hips. Sohee moved his gaze down to your glossy bottom lip that smirked before being caught between your teeth.

“Feeling sentimental.” You squeezed your hand around his tip and Sohee shook his head from the torture that hurt so good. “You mind if we have a little more fun than usual tonight?” You asked breathlessly

Fun. You had the habit of calling whatever this was in the backseat of your car fun. You confused him the first time you said it to him. He sat in the passenger seat while you eyed him up and down, you were alot more obvious with your attraction than you were now. You brought him in close before asking Do you want to have some fun, you were alot bolder than too. But Sohee gave you grace, he figured saying fun was the perfect middle ground between the casual hookup and the intimacy he (hoped) you reserved only for eachother. But having fun to Sohee was writing music and singing. Having fun was imagining the future and thinking about the track list for his bands debut album. Watching your hand jump underneath the fabric of his boxers was anything but fun. Watching your chest move in your tight shirt and feeling your lips press hasty kisses to his face wasn’t fun. 

He believed this was attempted murder and you were going to kill him.

“What’s wrong?” Your hold on his dick loosened and against his will, once again, Sohee whined and rutted into your hand. “I thought you liked it when I did this.” You said.

You held your head up from resting against Sohee’s shoulder to look him in the eyes. They were large and filled with worry, and Sohee felt his dick jump in his boxers and his heart lurch forward.

He really needs to start keeping track of how many times you tried to kill him.

“No baby, I like it alot.” Honestly Sohee liked it too much—he believed he could get off from you just squeezing the root of his dick and whining in his ear and looking at him. His hips lifted on their own accord again and Sohee had to lean back against the seat to focus on breathing. “Keep going, it feels so good.” He begged.

Sohee drove his point home by reaching his hand that wasn’t holding onto your shoulder for dear life to press into your clothed heat. Instantly he felt your hips preen towards him, so abruptly that you scooted down the seat. You faltered between your kisses to let out a shaky sigh, and Sohee had to open his eyes to stare at the ceiling of your car. He pressed deeper to draw more sound out of you, and you squeezed your hand around his dick to make him squirm more. 

Eventually the teasing became too much and you gave up trying to kiss all together. You just settled further into Sohee’s side as your hands became more rushed. Sohee’s head lulled against your backseat while you seeped through the thin material of your panties. The deeper and deeper his fingers pressed into you the higher your voice and sounds became. When Sohee finally brought the hand that was gripping your shoulders down to your waist to pull your panties to the side. He wasted to time sticking his fingers into your cunt, but hearing your sudden desperate sounds made Sohee’s fingers became erratic. He was being pulled thinner and you jumbled his brain to such an effect that he couldn’t decide between scissoring his fingers inside of you or trying to hit a spot particularly deep. He started doing both in a foggy lust-filled panic, but even when he thought you were on the verge of stopping him and kicking him out of your car he started feeling your drool leak to his bare chest.

“Oh my God.” You mumbled.

Sohee looked down to see your eyes were squeezed shut. Feeling your hips push into his hand was one thing, but seeing it with his own two eyes was an entirely different beast. You were chasing after something Sohee was giving to you when he wasn’t entirely sure himself what he was doing. He only watched you, hoping to etch the scene into his mind forever. Your walls clenched around his fingers, and Sohee felt more precum leak from his tip onto your already sticky hand.

“Oh my God.” He echoed.

He was convinced you were going to kill him. You were going to kill his dreams and aspirations of making it in New York. Sohee was going to end up becoming the manager at the record store he used to work, or end up working for his father. Sohee would end up disbanding Dragon Teeth and using his portion of the earnings for a deposit on an apartment with you. You were going to take away his voice, the naive glint in his eye, and the God complex the same way his Father did to his Mother. 

“I’m close, Sohee. So close.” You started speeding up your hand and Sohee’s own sounds started slipping past his lips. It was almost disgusting hearing the pathetic sounds bounce off the walls of your Dad’s old car. “Are you?” You asked pitifully.

Instead of answering, Sohee used the last of his crumbling strength to bring his hand that was still holding your panties to the side underneath your chin. He lifted your gaze, and the yellow light of your car bathed your face in a warm glow. The light reflected off of your clammy skin as you looked to him with so much want and desperation. For a moment Sohees’ impeding orgasm was banished to the outer realm of his mind as he took in your furrowed eyebrows and glassy eyes.

Arguably it was more disturbing how he would let you take it all away from him. No amount of awards won or sold-out shows could amount to the transparency in your eyes during moments like these. Everything out on the surface, just for him. He wanted to eat you alive and he wanted you to do the same thing to him, and then he wanted to make a song about it.  

Sohee caught your lips on his, pressing deep into your pout like you always did with him. You somehow tasted like the dingy bar, like the warm air and the stale taste of the aging snacks you neatly set out every night. Sohee wanted to see if he could taste the nearly metallic tap water on your tongue so he pushed deeper. When his tongue broke past your lips your whole body froze. He could tell you weren’t used to him taking the lead, but he was also feeling something in the air tonight. You got used to it and accepted him quickly, the same way everyone who lives here gets used to change.

“Right there, Sohee.” You whimpered against his lips and held onto his shoulder a little tighter, pulling him into you.

He was already dead, and he couldn’t care less. He wanted to be buried in your backyard, or maybe underneath your bed. He wouldn’t mind the smell, he hoped it would be the same for you.

Maybe if he was lucky his future child would become a rockstar. During their future acceptance speech for an award they would thank you two, getting teary eyed as they talked about the sacrifice his parents made. Then the camera would cut to you and Sohee, sitting side by side. Your faces would be all wrinkly and your eyes would be dead from working sleepless nights and worrying if your artistic child would make anything of their lives, but you two would be holding hands the same way you were clutching his his now.

After Sohee pulled away, he saw the drool coat your lips and the single line that dribbled down your face. He pressed his fingers against your walls and your whole body started reacting. You pulled Sohee at an angle into you so quickly that his forehead was pressed into the seat beside your head while you started breathing heavily. He wasn’t used to the manhandling from you, or the sudden display of strength but something in him enjoyed feeling your arm wrap around his waist and clutch his shoulder so easily. You completely gave up giving him a handjob, but he didn’t care. He needed to see you finish. So he let you pull him even more as he tried fingering you from the awkward angle. Now it was Sohee’s breath that was fanning the crook of your neck as he tried craning his head to see your face contort in pleasure. Your hand that suddenly pressed into the back of his head kept him there, and Sohee wished he could’ve told you he needed to see your face. But your moans were louder than any voice he could muster, and the way your walls were clenching around his fingers told him he was running out of time. As a consolation prize Sohee licked your neck before pressing his teeth into the wet patch of your skin and biting down. 

Sohee felt your back arch until your chest pressed against his. He pressed back into you, restricting your movement and keeping you in place as he continued working his fingers in and out of you. The slick noises filled the car and Sohee didn’t stop, even when his wrist started screaming at him to do so. He just kept plunging fingers back into your heat as a new wave of you coated his fingers and your legs started shaking. 

Despicably Sohee silently hoped he would draw blood from your neck, maybe if he ripped out a big enough piece of flesh he would kill you before you could kill him. But your hand that was holding his head in place threaded through his hair to pull him away. He hissed from the pain and the pinpricks of his strands being pulled out but he stayed there, just biting and sucking your skin until your other hand started pushing at his shoulder.

“Too much, too much.” You said weakly.

Sohee let his canines press into the pulse of your neck one last time before he pulled away. He kept his fingers inside of you, pumping slowly just to finally see the final twitches rack through your body. His eyes focused on the imprint of his teeth in your neck, he counted each tooth over and over again, focusing on his canines that dug particularly deep. He felt pride blossom in his chest, physical proof of real pain to distract him from the constant pangs he felt in his heart. But something in him tore when one of your hands went to his wrist to pull him from your cunt while the other ran a hand over his bite mark. Sohee looked at your large eyes in astonishment as you ran your fingers over the indents in the crook of your neck.

“Your dragon teeth almost broke the skin.” You said, still running your hand over the indent. 

Sohee watched your finger stay on the imprint his canines left behind. Sohee felt the aching in his pants again as he licked his lips.

“Sorry.” Sohee apologized while fully getting off of your body. You could do the same to me. Maybe even worse. Just rip my flesh right off the bone next time you get a chance.

He went back to his side of the car as he watched you try and gather your bearings. He looked outside the window, already seeing the fog form on the inside. The cars speeding by on the highway was only a blur, and he imagined himself in one of those cars leaving the town. 

He was still looking out the window when he heard you moving out of your shirt, and just as he looked to you again Sohee saw your chest become free in your dimly lit car. He couldn’t take his eyes off, each time was like the first without fail. He reached across the space to grab you in both of his hands, the flesh spilling out between his fingers. He was caught in your web again, mindlessly kneading and pressing down to try and pull noises from you. He pulled on your stiff nipples, another harsh display of the power imbalance he tried to make right. But when you only moaned from the tug and climbed on top of his lap, you took back the power just as easy. 

The worst part was that he didn’t even know if you knew the power you had over him. You controlled everything in his life when you were in his sights. He swore you controlled the temperature in your car that suddenly raised tenfold and the light that shined perfectly behind your head like the sun. He was blinded worse than he ever was in his life looking up at you. When your hand caressed his cheek he drew in a sharp breath, already feeling the lurch in his heart as you smiled down at him.

“Can I ride you?” You asked even though you both already knew the answer. 

Sohee gave the illusion of a choice by nodding his head and pointing towards the center console. You smiled and reached towards the floor of your car, bringing the foil packet of a condom in his line of sight. 

“You know I never forget.” You said.

Sohee nodded again, swallowing his nerves to try and wet his dry throat. When you backed up on his lap and pulled at the waistband of his boxers Sohee lifted his hips to push them down to his ankles. His dick sprung straight up, red and angry from your accidental edging. Sohee looked from his dick to your mocking pout as you pinched his cheek.

“Sorry I didn’t make you cum earlier.” You said, voice dripping with sarcasm. 

Sohee didn’t know how you considered this to be fun as his dick twitched. The overheard light caught the precum leaking from his tip, glistening as you continued to coo at him. Sohee hid in the crook of his elbow with the other hand gripping the skin of your waist. He can do alot of things. He can transition from his chest voice to his head voice seamlessly, he can memorize the lyrics of any song in under a hour, but what he absolutely can not do is watch you put the condom on his dick. He doesn’t know what it is, but the mere thought of it has him pulsing in your hand as your align the bottom of the condom with his dick.

“Look at me Sohee.” You cooed and Sohee pulsed in your hand again.

Sohee shook his head as he felt the latex hug the tip of his dick. Between your hand and the condom he felt the rubber ring, waiting to be pushed down the rest of his length.

“I wanna see you do it.” You said it weakly, the previous teasing tone in your voice completely gone.

Only when you pulled your hands away did Sohee take his arm away from his eyes. He regretted it immediately seeing your completely blown out eyes watch him eagerly. You looked like you were going to bite him any second, you licked your lips like you were getting ready to. Your hungry eyes focused on his veiny hands as he gripped the base of his veiny dick. Just like when he was getting his pants off Sohee’s hands just didn’t seem to be cooperating. The lubricated latex slipped right out of his fingers, and he didn’t apply enough force to roll the rest of the condom down his dick. You didn’t help, you only watched him with amusement as you started running your hands over his body. 

The more gentle you were running your hands everywhere the more impatient Sohee got. When you grazed your fingers over his chest slowly, Sohee clenched his hand around his dick pretending it was you. When you ran your hand down his shoulders he shook his head slightly, feeling something akin to electricity prickle his skin. 

You were teasing him, playing mind games to keep him in the back of your car forever. Maybe this was the night you were really going to kill him. Sohee thought about how he told his bandmates that he was going to be with you tomorrow. He hoped Wonbin would be able to lead the cops straight to this parking lot. They’d bust you right in the middle of your shift while you served IPA’s on tap to businessmen who hated their lives and—

“Sohee.”

He blinked rapidly looking at you, not even noticing you had replaced his hand with your own. You hovered directly over his dick, the same look of worry written across your face from earlier.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized, not sure what for. 

Regardless he said the right thing, the look on your face turned back to the insatiable hunger you always had after closing down your bar.

“It’s okay.” You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Can I—“

Rob me of all my ambitions? Keep me in this town forever? Kill me? 

“Yes.” Sohee said, moving his other hand to your hip. 

He held your waist with all his might, digging his fingers into your skin until he felt the bone. Your desperation was reflected in the way you held onto his shoulder for dear life, digging your fingernails in until they left indents. Maybe if he was lucky, you’d break the skin. 

You definitely had the chance of drawing blood when you first sank down on his dick. For a moment you were so tight Sohee’s tip prodded your entrance, but when his hand rubbed your lower stomach you relaxed. You took all of him with ease just like you always did. He fit inside of you like a puzzle piece, and your body shivered above his when his dick somehow reached even deeper.

You whined and tipped your head backwards, rotating your hips to feel him in that part of your stomach. Sohee watched the show and used one hand to guide you in a circular motion while the other continued to press into your lower stomach. Your eyes were already screwed shut and you were gasping for air like you were already feeling your second impeding orgasm. There were times you’d have Sohee in the backseat of your car purely for stress relief. During those nights—which was most nights—Sohee could barely form a sentence while you bounced on his dick saying whatever came to your mind. The first time Sohee saw you like that, he had to write a song about it. Ironically, it was the song he’d be working on tomorrow at Wonbins’. So Sohee tried to pay extra close attention to your hips, and the way your body would momentarily freeze when something felt particularly good. He hoped that you would tell him he was your favorite singer, the confession coming out rushed through your swollen lips.

Tonight was different. There wasn’t a sense of fervor in your hips as you chased after an orgasm. Everything was intentional, everything was slow. The way you gasped quietly before loosening your grip on Sohee’s shoulder while your other hand caressed his cheek. You seemed to try so hard to keep your eyes open, as if you were trying to memorize everything about him. When you bent down to kiss Sohee again you didn’t push your tongue past his lips. You continued to give him breathy chaste kisses while grinding your hips against his.

When Sohee saw your eyebrows cinch in frustration, he pressed deep into his seeat to create a small amount of space before driving his hips up into yours. Even if the thrust was small you reacted fully, twitching and bring your chest to rest against his. 

Maybe you really were feeling sentimental. 

Sohee pulled away from your lips to see you open your eyes. He saw that they were glassy like always, but the whites of your eyes looked like they were starting to turn red. Sohee told himself it was because you were tired as he flicked his hips up the same way again. Sohee gasped when you clenched around him the same time you whimpered hopelessly. He maintained eye contact with you and did it a third time. He had to let out a shaky breath of his own when you hung your head from the stimulation.

“Sohee.” You whimpered quietly.

He didn’t say anything back. He would’ve told you about the two bedroom apartment that allowed pets down the street if he said anything else. He only fucked up into you again and closed his eyes in bliss. 

Sohee felt your body collapse against his. Your bare chest pressed deeply into his as he started grinding his hips up into yours. You were no help anymore, you were already a puddle of whines and whimpers and the same breathless declarations of his name. 

Your hand that caressed Sohee’s cheek traveled to the nape of his neck to thread through his dampening strands of hair. You pulled experimentally just like you did every night as if Sohee would react any differently. Each time he would hiss and tilt his head towards the slight pain. Your breath fanned the newly exposed part of his neck, the same place where he bit you. He felt your hesitation, only a timid lick as you burrowed deeper into the crook.

“Do it.” Sohee whispered as he started lifting you by your hips to and bringing you down with the same force.

Bite me. Eat me whole. I won’t have to worry about failing if I can blame my death on you. The greatest musicians die young anyway’s right?

When you still held back, Sohee found a new strength inside of him. He was able to lift your completely off his length, bringing you down the same time he drove his hips up. He was fucking up into you and fucking you down on him at the same time. He heard you hiss from the stimulation as your hand dug into the seat cushion beside his head to steady yourself. Your skin slapping against his filled your car and he could feel it rocking from the movement. He imagined your bared teeth in the crook of his neck, so close to the vein that gave him life. Sohee’s brought his hand across your back to hold you tight against him and pushed your head closer to his neck. He could practically feel the blood pulsing where your teeth would go.

“Do it.” He lamented.

You only hesitated for a second before digging your teeth into his skin. Sohee swore he could feel each individual tooth leaving its indent on your skin. The pain made his adrenaline skyrocket, and Sohee fucked into you with a strength and speed that was new to the both of you. You held on for the ride, and eventually you started finding some of your own strength back. You were bouncing on his dick without the guidance of his hands, and you pulled away from his neck to press your forehead against his.

“Are you close?” You asked, trying so hard to hold on.

“So close.” Sohee answered.

From the tone in his voice you clamped around his dick again. A sigh racked through his body, and the terrible thought of taking off his condom flashed through his mind. His hand went from the back of your neck to your shoulder, holding you close like you were going to break.

“Let’s do it together.” You said quickly.

You planted your feet on the seat and started bouncing. Sohee went from controlling the tempo entirely to being completely at your mercy. He still gripped your hip and clutched your shoulder to feign dominance, but he was moaning pitifully as you continued working him.

“Touch me there, Sohee.” You said.

Sohee wordlessly moved the hand that was on your shoulder to your clit, hoping that’s what you meant by there. The way your pace faltered let him know he was most likely right, but he needed your confirmation. He looked up from his fingers that worked your swollen bud to your eyes. Sweat lined your face, and Sohee swore he saw tears forming in the corners of your eyes. He pressed deeper, and saw you sniffle before catching your lip between your teeth.

“Here?” He asked, eyes wide as he followed your every move.

“Right there.” You answered immediately and screwed your eyes shut. “I’m gonna cum.” You moaned.

Sohee nodded, and let the orgasm he was staving off come to the forefront of his mind. Already he felt like he was ready to explode, he just needed to see you do it first.

“Me too.” He whimpered back as his fingers worked your clit.

Within seconds your hips stilled and your moan reverberated through the car. If you were like him, he was sure your cries would’ve cracked the window. But you only continued to sob out broken declarations of Sohee’s name, and within seconds he followed suit. He taut balls twitched against your ass, and he felt the familiar spill into his condom. If he closed his eyes and focused hard enough there was nothing separating the two of you, and he felt a new wave of cum spurt from his tip. 

He started shivering from the relief, a breathy laugh as he felt the stimulation of your walls still spasming around him. You pressed  a million kisses around his face, and Sohee’s entire body went so limp in your backseat that his lower back cracked. He continued to feel everything, inspiration for a new song and newfound love for his city and the current state of his life. he brought your tired sweaty body close to his and kept you there. 

He matched the rise of his chest to the fall of yours, then matched your breathing completely. You two had become one, laying in the backseat of your car as the flickering lamp posts light finally went out.

After everything, the nothingness always seemed comforting. everything seemed warm. Sohee rubbed his hand up and down the expanse of your back that was already becoming cold again.

“Come with me to the studio next week.” Sohee said.

He spoke to the review mirror that showed him a clear view of the back of your head. As if you knew he wouldn’t have the funds, Sohee watched your closed eyes open quickly as you stared at the side of his face. 

When you pulled away from Sohee’s body he wiped some of the sweat from your forehead. He went to the apple of your cheek, squeezing slightly as you got up from his lap. He worked the filled condom off his dick as you leaned forward past the center console to grab your clothes. You put your bra on and looked back at him briefly before you facing your clothes again.

“Can’t.” You said quietly.

“It’ll be before your shift.” Sohee reasoned

“i’m moving tomorrow.” You said even quieter

Sohee sat up from his seat. The rare life update from you piqued his interest and the way you didn’t face him made Sohee try to maneuver to look at you.

“To the new apartment buildings downtown?” He asked.

You scoffed and shook your head. Sohee shifted forward in his seat again to pull his boxers back up his legs.

“I’m moving to California.” You answered.

Sohee paused, and the elastic from his waistband snapped against his skin. He tilted his head to the side, still trying to figure out why you wouldn’t look at him. In the silence you worked your panties back up your legs and your shirt was resting in your lap by the time Sohee found his voice again.

“What’s in California?” He asked.

Finally you faced away from your clothes to look at Sohee. 

“I don’t know, everything?” You pulled your shirt back over your head and Sohee was still completely still, only in his boxers. “Stores that are open past nine, the arts, other people my age.” You continued.

“I mean, what are you going to do out there?” Sohee asked.

He still didn’t move, even when you put his clothes onto his lap so he could change.

“Well the bartender that works here in the mornings, she wants to pursue acting. She asked me if I wanted to move and I just thought to myself if I don’t do it now it may never happen.” You seemed happy, smiling ear to ear as you thought about your journey that was starting tomorrow. “Her Dad said he’d spot us first month’s rent, and I already found a bar close to our place that’s hiring.” You said.

You somehow did something worse than killing him. In a days time, you would only be a shadow, a figment of Sohee’s imagination. He for some reason felt like the world was crashing down around him while you looked the happiest he’s ever seen you. When he remained unmoving, he saw your eyebrows stitch together as you looked at him carefully.

“You’re not gonna say anything?” You asked.

I just stabbed you in the heart, aren’t you happy? Look, I can even twist the knife too.

Sohee shook his head and put his graphic tee on. He could feel you becoming apprehensive, and he felt himself becoming frustrated for no reason.

“I thought you’d be the type to stay here forever.” Sohee said.

Your eyebrows raised and your head cocked to the side as Sohee’s words sunk in. He could tell you remembered the few times he would refer to people who stayed in their hometowns their whole lives as an insult before you started pulling your pants up your legs.

“I actually take offense to that.” You said.

Sohee started pulling his own pants up, shaking his head to try and make envy leave his body.

“I just think it’s weird you’re moving across the country to become a bartender.” Sohee reasoned. “You’ll be in California not to be a singer or an actress, but a bartender?”

He knew he messed up when you paused buttoning your jeans. You turned to face him completely, your skin still clammy from sweat.

“What’s so wrong with that?” You scoffed before climbing over the center console to the drivers seat. “Everyone has to start somewhere.” 

Sohee followed after you, going into the passengers seat as you dug around in your purse for the keys. He knew he didn’t have the right to speak, but none of this felt fair. He thought that you had the same inner struggle he was having every night he came to see you. But you were fine—in fact you were more than fine—because you were getting out, something Sohee failed to do.

“Couldn’t you just do that here? And save your money?” He asked.

“I’ve been doing it here for awhile. I’ve saved up more money than you think.” Your car came to life when you put the keys in the ignition, but afterwards you turned to Sohee with indignation written across your face. “Sohee I didn’t even know you knew my name until we had sex for the first time. And now here you are telling me how I should live my life?” You said.

Everything was so unfair. He knew more about you than he knew about himself. He wanted to know more, the time you two spent together suddenly felt so short. If he knew you were going to kill him anyway he would’ve dug a little deeper. 

“Did you just expected me to stay in this town and fuck you every night until you left?” You looked to him from your side of the seat, and when he didn’t respond you shook your head. 

“Just until I get enough money for the studio.”

Sohee didn’t know if he was talking about studio time or the studio apartment that he would get if you two didn’t want to move in together right away. Everything in his mind was becoming jumbled, only set clear by your confused voice.

“Then what?” You asked.

Then we both give up our dreams together and settle in life. We get that apartment and we have a child, then we grow old to resent eachother because we held ourselves back just to be comfortable. But maybe our child would become rich and famous and we’d live the rest of our days in luxury.

When Sohee said nothing back to you, he watched you give up. You let out a sigh and your shoulders sagged, and you pulled out of the parking spot and drove on the underpass to Sohee’s house. He thought about Dragon Teeth and how you’d be living in California while he lived in New York pursuing his dream. He thought about the off chance of him staying in this boring town with the hopes that you’d eventually find your way back to the dingy dive bar you worked at nearly every day. Maybe he’d be waiting there for you, or maybe he’d write a song about it, and when you listened on the radio you’d know it’d be just for you.

He wanted to let you know about his plan when you stopped in front of his house but the words couldn’t come out. You still gave him a smile, muttering about how you’d miss him and think about him everyday. Sohee felt the knife turn in his heart as he said the same, already writing the lyrics in his mind to deal with the pain.