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rafeskiss · 8 months ago

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imgonnagetyouback ! ᥫ᭡

pairing: matt sturniolo x popstar! reader

word count: 2.1k (holy shit)

summary: you are a world renowned popstar, and after a very public breakup with youtuber matt sturniolo, he can’t bare to watch you look hot on stage and know you’re no longer his. he’s determined to get you back.

warnings: smut obvi, p in v, fingering, swearing, use of ‘y/n’, nicknames (baby), overstimulation, unprotected sex (don’t be fucking stupid), matt calling reader ‘slutty’, probably more i can’t think of

authors note: I HAVE RETURNED!! i have come back from like a two month long hiatus (HIATUS??? DONT USE BIG WORDS MATTTT) to bring you guys the much requested imgonnagetyouback inspired fic featuring popstar! reader! in my mind i see popstar! reader as sabrina carpenter/madison beer type, not necessarily looks wise just their presence. anyways i love ya and thank u for all the kind words on pretty voice :(((

you walked around stage with more confidence then ever. you questioned if fake confidence still counts as confidence, but nobody seemed to know that you’re faking it. it had been 2 weeks since your breakup with matt, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t wreck you. but you don’t want to ruin the fans experience while you’re on tour, so you maintained your confident-happy-seductive-popstar act.

you were considered the new it girl of pop music. even though you were at your worst, you were getting a lot of attention. most questions fans asked you were about the breakup, but you were trending on twitter for a week straight. fans were making sad breakup edits and update accounts were notifying everyone about the latest stuff regarding the breakup.

because of those update accounts, you knew that matt and his brothers were at your show tonight. you didn’t know why, and even though it made you sick, you got up on the stage and shook your ass and sang your little heart out.

you wore a short lilac skirt, the one that fits you like skin. it drive matt crazy; the way it matched your skin tone so perfectly and accentuated your curves. you were a humble girl, but there were times you knew just how hot you were.

you felt bittersweet about this being the last stop of your tour. you were excited you could rest and grieve and mourn your ended relationship. but you were sad because of the happiness you did feel at one point performing to your fans and the family you created with your band.

with it being the last stop of tour, your team is throwing a little party at some club nearby the venue in seattle. it was planned for weeks now, and at the time you planned it, you added matt and his brothers name to the guest list. and you didn’t have the guts to remove it after the breakup, you didn’t even think you needed to because why would he show up? you regret it as you look at him from your spot on stage. he’s standing on the balcony with his brothers, and he looks guilty and mad at the same time. you quickly look away before you became sick, like how you normally feel seeing his face anywhere.

you say your goodbyes to the crowd and walk off stage as confetti shoots from the ceiling. you make your way backstage where your team awaits you, showering you with compliments and praises. the usual ‘you did so great tonight’ shit. matt used to be the first one to compliment you after a show, whispering sweet things in your ear; odd compliments that nobody else would tell you but that’s why they meant so much. you shake the thought of him from your mind as you pray that he won’t attend the party later tonight.

standing at the bar like somethings funny, bubbly.

God didn’t answer your prayers, unfortunately. you stood talking to one of your best friends, madison beer, but instead of keeping eye contact with her as she talks to you, your eyes are on matt. he’s on the other corner of the room by the bar, with his brothers. chris is sipping on a pepsi, nick with a dr. pepper, and matt has nothing in his hands. he glances over to you and goes back to his conversation with chris. he laughs and you wonder what he’s laughing at, you brush it off and engage in your conversation with madison.

fuck. fuck fuck fuck. an endless stream of curse words run through your mind because knowing he’s in the same room as you, at your party, is driving you insane. you wander through the crowds, making small talk but never staying with the same people for long. you sneak a quick look at matt who seems oddly bubbly while he’s talking to some blonde girl. as if he can feel your stare, he looks at you and makes a face. not a disgusted face, but one that reads ‘i see you too.’

an hour or two passes and i see some blonde girl approach him, and i know he wouldn’t *dare*. while we technically can see other people, we were never *not* each others. the blonde girl, who had to have been someone’s plus one cause i know damn well i didn’t invite her, is so obviously flirting with him. how bold of her! he seems uninterested but he’s still talking to her, which makes me feel sick. i hate he still has that effect on me.

say you got somebody, i’ll say i got someone too.

i know it’s petty, but i just want him to know that i can have someone too. i walk up to the first boy that i see, making small talk and his eyes almost pop out of his head when he realizes who i am. i can feel matt’s stare from across the room. i have zero interest in this guy i’m talking to, i just want to piss matt off. i don’t know what the fuck i’m doing. i tell all of my friends that i hate him, but i go fucking crazy when i see him or hear anything about him.

part of me wants to yell at him and curse him out, and the other half wants to take him back to my hotel. your phone is tucked into the neckline of your dress, feeling it vibrate. you smile at the stranger and pull your phone out, matt’s name on your lockscreen. you look over and see him staring at you. it definitely worked, this man is furious.

ten minutes later, you wait in the gender neutral bathroom. you apply more lipgloss in the mirror when matt walks in, quickly locking the door behind him.

“you hate parties,” you mutter as you layer on more mauve lipgloss, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

he shrugs, “yeah, but i don’t hate you.”

you roll your eyes, “well, i hate you.”

he laughs dryly, “yeah? how come you’re here then? in this bathroom with me, with the door locked?” he says, walking up behind you. you can feel his bulge against your ass.

you sigh and turn around, less than an inch of distance between you. “i hate you.”

he nods, “for sure.” he brings his thumb to your glossed lips, smirking. “so pretty.”

before you could even think twice, you’re sitting on the sink, wrapping your legs around matt’s waist, making out. maybe if you were sober you wouldn’t be in this situation, but if you were sober you probably would have wanted it more.

“hate you so much,” you mumble in between sloppy kisses.

“i know,” he mutters. he taps your thighs, signaling for you to spread them more. and of course, you do. he reaches his hand under your dress, pulling your panties to the side. he does all of this without breaking your kiss, too. and to no one’s surprise, you’re soaked.

he looks up at you, “you hate me so much but you’re soaking wet? doesn’t make sense.” he says.

“stop talking,” you whine.

he plunges two fingers into your cunt, and your hand immediately flies to your mouth. while it isn’t out of the ordinary to have sex in a bathroom at a club, you don’t want people to know it’s you.

he uses his other hand and pulls your hand away from your mouth. “let ‘em hear you.”

he continues fingering you until he feels your walls clench down on his fingers, and he pulls them out.

“matt!” you whine.

he nods, “i know, baby.” matt loves to edge you, and it pisses you off.

you roll your eyes and push him away, hopping off the sink. “no, i really do hate you.”

matt rolls his eyes, “oh, here we go again with that bullshit.”

you’re about to unlock the door and walk out of it before matt stops you. he swats your hand away from the door knob and walks closer to you until you’re up against the door.

“off,” he says, tugging at the fabric of your dress. and even though you said you hated him 5 seconds ago, you obey him.

he helps you wiggle out of your dress, you step out of it and slide it across the bathroom.

matt takes his belt off and unbuttons his jeans, you slide his boxers down to his ankles along with his jeans.

you’re still against the door when matt says, “jump.” you quickly obey, wrapping your legs around his hips. he uses the door to help not drop you, and you’re sure your back will hurt and have some bruises after this.

his dick is firmly pressing against your clit, and matt uses one arm to support you and the other to slide his dick inside your entrance. you hadn’t had his cock in a couple months, and it’s like it’s the first time again.

“oh fuck,” he groans. “still so tight. none of the other guys can stretch you like i do, huh?” he whispers into your ear.

“shut up and fuck me already, matt.” you reply bitterly.

“if you say so,” he whispers before bucking his hips into you so hard you think you might have a bruise.

“oh!” you gasp.

matt maintains eye contact with you, “you miss this dick?”

you nod as he continues to fuck into you, the door rattling against you.

“i don’t believe that, use your words, y/n.” he teases.

“i missed— oh fuck, missed your dick,” you whimper.

he pushed you harder against the door behind you so he could use his other hand to rub circles on your clit.

“well, i missed this pussy too. know it missed me back.”

your hole fluttered at his words which made him let out a soft groan. you felt his dick everywhere, in your soul.

he moved his hand away from your clit, leaving you trembling.

“m’back hurts,” you whined as he slid his dick in and out of you.

matt looked at you with sympathy, “i know baby… but we’re in a bathroom cause you’re jus’ so needy, so there’s not much room for me to fuck you like i want.”

this was true.

he rammed into you harder and faster, causing you to let out an almost pornographic shriek.

matt dryly laughed, “sound so pretty. such a pretty voice.”

you knew how much matt loved your career. the most famous pop girl at the moment wrapped around his finger. he loved watching your shows and seeing how all your female fans would bring their boyfriends to a concert and he’d watch their intense stares as you pranced around on stage in nothing but a tiny dress and heels. everyone wanted to fuck you or be you, and he loved that you were his in every way. but after the breakup, he’s gotten angry so of course he has to make up for lost time with a very intense fuck.

he slammed into you and pulled out just as quick, repeating this until he can feel your walls tightening against his lengthy cock.

“c’mon, baby. know your close, give it to me.” he whispered in your ear.

“oh god,” you moaned.

matt stopped fucking you, “s’not my name, baby.”

you whined, “fuck me, matt.” you said, putting emphasis on his name.

he smiled and started pounding into you again. “good job, baby. love when you use that pretty lil voice of yours.”

your nails scratched artwork onto his back, maybe breaking skin but matt didn’t mind at all.

“you gonna cum?” he taunted.

you nodded, “matt!”

“cum for me baby,” he demanded.

“oh god! oh, oh matt!” you said it correctly this time as your orgasm ripped through you. the first genuinely good one in two weeks.

matt didn’t slow down, he stayed fucking you through your orgasm.

“can’t!” you yelled.

matt shook his head, “you can. jus’ gimme one more. one more.”

you shut your eyes tightly gripping onto his back as tight as you can. you start squirming as your next orgasm approaches.

“m’cumming! oh! matt, i’m cumming!”

he nods, “i know baby.”

after you come down from your orgasm high, matt helps you adjust yourself so you look presentable to go back out into your party.

you reapply your lip gloss and run your fingers through your hair, combing them out. you fix your dress while matt hands you your panties.

“well, it was nice seeing you.” you say sweetly, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

“very nice.” he says with a smirk on his face. he adjusts his hair too before unlocking the door and holding it open for you. you’re greeted by a long line of upset faces waiting to use the bathroom.

you and matt make side eye each other as you walk away from the crowd, giggling.

you and matt both know you were never not each others.

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #smut #sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #imgonnagetyouback #taylor swift

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stark-ironman · 7 months ago

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Hello, Is it possible to do a request of read x hugh. The reader was in their 20s and hugh 55 and the reader brought hugh to meet the parents,but the parents didn't agree with age gap? (no smut, ending can anything) Thank you so much :)

I Choose You

18+ Only No Minors

A/N: I sort of know what this is like since I have an older man, not as old as Hugh but still so I hope you like it!!

You grip Hugh's hand tightly while he drives down the street to your parents house, nervously biting your lip as you both approach the house. "Darling, it's going to be okay." Hugh calmly tells you once he pulls into the house. "I told them you was a bit older than me but I never specified to them the exact age. They're going to flip on me." You whimper but Hugh hushes you quickly.

"I'm sure it will be okay. Besides, with my beard shaved off I don't look a day over 40." He jokes, causing you to choke out a laugh and look at him. "Promise me you won't leave me after their interrogation?" You ask. Hugh leans over to console and kisses you softly, "It's going to take more than meeting your parents to get me to leave you, love." He sincerely tells you with a soft smile.

"Let's do this then.." He gets out of the car and walks over to your side, helping you out and let's you lead the way, your hand intertwined with his. You knock softly on the door as Hugh wraps an arm around your waist, kissing your forehead softly right when your mom opens the door.

"Y/N! Oh, it's so good to see you!" She exclaims, hugging you tightly before letting you go. "Oh... who is this?" She asks, her eyes roaming over Hugh with a weird look on her face. "Hugh, ma'am. Nice to meet you." Hugh extends his hand out to shake your moms but she turns slightly, calling for your father.

"There's my little girl," Your father says with a smile, pulling you in for a hug as he looks over at Hugh. "Well, who is this gentleman?" He asks as he checks him over. "Hugh, sir." Hugh smiles and extends his hand out, your father taking it cautiously.

"Aren't you a bit old to be dating my daughter?" Your father asks and you grab Hugh's hand nervously. "I probably am but it's something we talked over very thoroughly before anything fully happened." Hugh explains as he smiles at you.

"How old are you exactly?" "55.." Hugh slowly says, knowing the reaction he's most likely fixing to recieve. "What on earth does a 55 year old man have to do with a 27 year old woman!" Your dad exclaims, causing you to flinch but you calmly look at him. "I'm the one who came onto him, dad. He would've never acted on anything if I didn't initiate it." "He has no right being with you. He's only a 10 years younger than me!" Your dad yells.

"I know but I couldn't help it. I love him, dad. He makes me the happiest I've been in a long time." You smile at him, Hugh staring proudly down at you but your father quickly ruins the moment. "No daughter of mine will date a man this old. Either you break it off with him or stay off my property and don't come back."

You look at your father with wide eyes, trying to make sure you heard him right as Hugh steps in front of you. "Let's not make any rash decisions while angry. I know this is a shock but I promise, I'm not going to hurt her and I know you don't either. She's the light of my life and I don't want anybody doing or saying something they're going to regret." Hugh tries to say but your father shakes his head, "Get off my property, both of you."

They go inside the house and shut the door, tears flowing quickly down your face as you bury your face in Hugh's chest. "You should go." He quietly says, causing you to quickly look up at him. "I'm not worth you losing your relationship with your parents. Go inside with them. I'll be okay." He says, tears forming in his eyes as well.

"I'm not doing that," He looks down at you, eyes staring at you with sadness, "I don't care what they say. I'm happy with you and you're everything to me. I don't care that you're older, I love you for who you are. If I have to go no- contact with my family or friends then so be it. You're all I need, Hugh." You explain and he kisses you deeply, holding you close to him.

"You're all I need, darling. I love you more than life itself." He kisses your forehead then rubs your shoulders. "Let's get out of here before they come out with a baseball bat." You say, leading him back out to the car, getting in and he starts the car.

"It's us against the world, darling. Nothing will ever change that."

#hugh jackman #hugh jackman smut #hugh jackman x reader #logan howlett #hugh jackman imagine

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cometblaster2070 · 3 months ago

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madame morrible has the worst fucking luck ever and I CAN'T because first of all after decades and decades of waiting she finally gets her most promising student yet right; she finally gets someone who actually has magic and who might actually be able to read the grimmerie and help further her and the wizard's plans and COINCIDENTALLY this student (bless her heart) is shunned and ostracized by literally EVERYONE including her own family and is desperately craving some form of parental love and affection and validation and acceptance and so madame morrible is like 'ooh this is fucking PERFECT this girl is going to be SO easy to manipulate into doing what I want what could possibly go wrong wow.'

and in comes the fucking pink lesbian.

because elphaba is shunned and hated and all of her peers avoid and detest her because she's weird and green BUT then all of a sudden?? out of nowhere??? she and her pink roommate who, mind you, had a choreographed song and dance routine which involved the entire student body in which they detailed how much they really really hate each other, got really fucking close??? now they go everywhere and do everything together??? they are attached at the hip and looking longingly into each other's eyes WHAT IS HAPPENING????

you are madame morrible and you think galinda upland is in love with your student and what is worse is that your student might be in love with galinda upland and that fucking SUCKS because how the fuck are you supposed to properly emotionally manipulate her now. and it makes absolutely zero sense to you because WHY is galinda upland, the most popular girl at shiz taking an interest in your student??? WHY IS SHE HERE, WHY IS THE FRUITY BITCH RUINING YOUR PLANS???

glinda's very EXISTENCE is a thorn in your side; her simply being herself and interacting with elphaba is probably the reason why you feel a headache coming every time you see them together and is perhaps the reason why you scream into your pillow at night because this absolute loser lesbian just being there might upend a huge fucking chunk of what you've been planning for years.

and then the fucking cherry on top of all of this your student decides to play vigilante and flies off into the sunset and then that leaves you stuck WITH her situationship who you hate more than anyone in the world and you're forced to sort of team up with her for a bit except she doesn't really know magic and she's just being sad and gay and moping about missing her girlfriend and you're sitting there FUMING thinking about how all these fucking witches are fruitier than fuck and all of them are useless to you at this point.

like this is just madame morrible at shiz after elphaba asks her to include glinda in their study sessions just realizing 'dear god I am going to be ping-ponging between these lesbians for the rest of my fucking life aren't I.'

ik she needed elphaba for the plot and for her dastardly plans but in all honesty if I was her and elphaba came up to me at 1am and was like yes please I need you to include my roommate with whom I have a homoerotic relationship in our study sessions or else I will quit right now. also, you have to go down to our party this very instant and tell her in person yourself bye and thanks, I would've just handed in my resignation letter right then and there and cut my losses.

#wicked #wicked 2024 #wicked movie #this is for the movie specifically but i just love the madame morrible-glinda dynamic #like the initial one sided beef they have is SO fucking funny #because glinda's like “wow i admire and respect you!! i want to be like you!!”#and morrible's like “if you fucking touch me i will actually set you on fire”#but she HAS to tolerate glinda for elphaba's sake #like she CAN'T #she's stuck with this girl #she can't escape her #even when elphaba leaves GLINDA'S STILL HERE #AND SHE'S NOW STUCK WITH GLINDA #SHE PUT UP WITH THIS NONSENSE FOR ELPHABA #AND ELPHABA'S FUCKING GONE AND LEFT HER WITH THIS THING #AND NOW HERE SHE IS #it's so FUNNY i can't #especially because by the end glinda's also like oh you thought i made your life hell before think again ugly bitch try me #love that for her i won't lie #glinda upland #galinda upland #elphaba thropp #gelphie #gelphie: ruining lives since their shiz days #good on them yk

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joosthead · 3 months ago

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skin || j.k. x f!reader

WARNING #1: explicit real person fiction ahead, dni if below 18. dni if anti-rpf

WARNING #2: explicit rpf/real person fiction content ahead. read at your own risk. dni if anti rpf, dni or read ahead if you simply don’t like rpf lol

₊˚⊹⋆ joost wants to make a song.

₊˚⊹⋆ for @spentandpent’s contest 😅🩷 (2 months late)

₊˚⊹⋆ reader: f!reader. notfamous!reader. normal au a.k.a. reader has an office job and attends university. reader is not dutch

₊˚⊹⋆ word count: 10.3k

₊˚⊹⋆ cw: smut (established relationship, consensual audio recording during sex, f!receiving oral, mirror, ruined orgasm, overstimulation, squirting, vibrator, multiple orgasms, unprotected piv, slight breeding kink, creampie), kind of really porny i can't lie. pwp. crying both out of (momentary) sadness and because cumming 🩷 reader🤝being total crybabies🤝juno

WARNING #3: rpf ahead—don't like it, don't read it. do not repost this on any other platform, screenshots or text alike. do not click ahead if you don’t want to read rpf. do not interact if you are below 18. how to block tags/words on tumblr.

₊˚⊹⋆ track(s) of the fic: “skin” by mac miller, “p power” by gunna

₊˚⊹⋆ junote: vibrator. go big or go home right 🩷 as always @howisjoostfanfictionforfree my partner in filth 🩷 @spentandpent for infecting me w the overstim brainworms 🩷 and lovely @xiaoflan for listening to me complain about this fic ! 😆🩷 i love and appreciate you all 🩷 the art for the header is by one of my amazing best friends <3

18+ only — explicit rpf content ahead, minors dni, anti rpf dni. 4th and final warning!

“Are you ready, mijn schat?” Joost asks in a soft voice, sitting on the edge of the bed next to you.

“Ready as I'll ever be, Joosti.”

One of his nicest microphones is set up on your bedside table, wires crossing every which way, his laptop on the ground and hooked up to it.

This was an idea that came about spontaneously, as most things regarding Joost come about; on the train home together, sharing his wired earphones with each other and listening to your playlist of liked songs when Skin by Mac Miller came on. His ears perked up and his eyes brightened at the first few seconds, and you knew you were in for it.

There’s a woman in the first few seconds—she sounds like she’s having a positively great time, mewling softly, panting in a way that sounds almost like you when Joost is fucking you good. This was on your playlist?!?! You couldn’t fathom a situation where you’d listen to this in public, but here you were, hearing it all as you watched Joost and his mouth drop open a bit.

Your cheeks warmed and he poked you in the side—“Oh my god,” he said, taking your hand and shaking it. “You know what this means, right?” You shook your head no though you knew the answer—”Our turn!!!!!” He said it so loud that an old lady beside you gave him a dirty look, and he just smiled at her. “Can we? Can we?”

“Joost.”

“I just want to hear what it’s like—if I made a song and your beautiful voice was in the background like this or you were my little producer tag.”

“Very creative,” you laughed, sarcastic. Secretly…you two aren’t exactly public about your relationship. He would post about your anniversaries, your birthday, Valentine’s Day, your vacations; they know you exist, and that he has a long-term girlfriend, but you were so private you were almost elusive. “You want my moan in the back of your song?”

Something so…obvious under his belt. Something so loud. It was unlike you, and you knew it would never be released, at least not in the raw form he’d likely want it to be in, but it was still something. Something that made your stomach turn in that way that felt good and not scary, even with how rarely you were in the public eye.

You existed in the backgrounds of Joost, Appie, Alanis, Stuntje’s Instagram stories; you existed as a tag of a username, a pixelated and blurred out face in Joost’s photo dumps to protect your privacy. You exist out of the spotlight, in the background, not as the beat of his song, but you figure—it is only a matter of time until you join him in the sun.

“Who better than you? I want you everywhere, schat. Your moan will become my trademark,” he reasons, and as always—master of persuasion, at least with you. “One time. And it’ll just be between us, okay? Or mostly for me, I love hearing you.”

You decided in a quick second that you’d do it—all Joost has ever done is protect you, and even with your easily overthinking mind, this sounds fun as all hell to the little devil in your mind that wants everyone to know that he’s yours, you're his. No one else’s. Being possessive doesn’t come naturally in any other part of your life other than Joost.

“Okay,” you said, resting your head on his shoulder, holding his hand in yours. “Let’s do it, Joosti.”

“Wahhh—I love you!!!” Joost exclaimed, pressing a kiss to your forehead and going back to happily looking out the window.

“Mijn meisje,” he says softly, and it makes your stomach turn, the smooth glide of his voice as you lie back onto your pillows. You imagine how it’ll sound in the mp3 file. “Thank you for doing this for me.”

“It’s not a big deal,” you say, shaking your head. “We would’ve had sex anyway—why not make something of it?”

“It’s a big deal to me.”

You nod, “I can imagine.” Joost fiddles with a dial on the side of the microphone, presses a button somewhere else, tidies the wires. “What do you think it’ll sound like?”

Joost snickers a little to himself before starting— “Agh! Joost! Fuck me harder!” he whines, high pitched and teasing. “Urgh, Joosti, you’re so huge inside of me!”

“I do not fucking sound like that,” you laugh, slapping him on the shoulder to his barking laughter. “Schat, you’re so tight, I think I’ll cum in three seconds!”

“Hey!” Joost says, laughing as he leans to you for a kiss. “Okay, it might be the truth but I think it’ll sound good. As long as it’s you, we should win a Dutch Grammy for this.”

Outside the window, it’s rainy; the roof is pelted with the droplets of water of an autumn in Amsterdam, loud and incessant and comforting. Your room in this old house is humid with the moisture, but you’re sure it’s mostly just the two of you and your warmth making it feel so stuffy.

“We haven’t even made it yet and you want a Grammy?”

“Why not? I know we’ll get one, don't doubt us,” he grins, slinking off the bed and crouching in front of his computer. Joost’s customary wired earphones are plugged into it and he places a bud in his ear. “Mic check, 1, 2, 3,” he says, Joost Klein style, the sound waves appearing on the screen. “This issssss me and my baby’s recording session number one—“

“Number 1? The only one, Joost.”

“Okay, okay. Recording 1 of 1. Our ears only.” Pausing a little, Joost gets that expression on his face that lets you know he’s about to say something strange and he does: “Do you think we can make ASMR mouth sounds from this? Dutch kissing ASMR or something?”

“I think we can make more than mouth sounds when it comes down to it.”

Joost laughs, lifting his computer and placing it on the corner of the table behind the mic; gets up close to it, whispering and tapping on the wood of your bedside table like the people in the ASMR videos you both watch at his behest before bed, “Explain to them what we are going to do, schat,” you laugh and he shushes you, “This is very serious work, we have to be quiet, shhhh.”

“Uhm…” you say quietly, stifling back a snicker as you get close to the mic from the side. “We’re going to record us fucking—“

“Bad word, schat,” Joost whispers, shaking his head at you disappointedly, “Think about the advertisers.”

Tapping on the metal body of the microphone, you roll your eyes and start again, “We’re going to have s-word—“

“That’s better.”

“And record the sound from it so Joosti can put it in a song,” you whisper and he nods, mouthing, “Good job!” and giving a thumbs up before he brushes aside your hair to put the other half of his wired earphones in your ear.

Immediately, you’re met with the sounds of your shared soft breathing and Joost’s hollow tippy taps on the base of the mic. When he goes quiet, the pitter patter of the raindrops upon your roof are loud enough to hear clearly. “I turned up the sensitivity so we don’t have to move it around while we’re recording,” he says, and you nod.

“I can hear that.” Every single sound and movement you make for the coming hours will be captured on this little waveform. Your voice echoes back to you in your ears, and you scrunch up your face. “I hate my voice.”

“I love your voice, mijn schat,” he says, getting on the bed in front of you. “Sounds even better when you’re saying my name.” Smiling at him, you settle back against your pillows in your prettiest pajama set, a camisole and a pair of loose shorts, both printed with small blue flowers all over. Joost takes the ribbed fabric of your shorts between his fingers, tickling your thigh, “This one is my favorite one.”

“Every one is your favorite one,” you counter as you open your legs for Joost to sit between.

“As long as you are wearing it, schat—of course,” Joost says, sighing wistfully as he takes the earphones out from both your ears and drapes them on the nightstand. “Are you sure you don’t want to film? You’re so pretty.”

You roll your eyes as he laughs—it was definitely a topic of conversation after the fact, recording video of it like you have a few times before, just isolating the sound after. You argued that the sound from a real microphone would be better, and he argued, “Why not both?”

You shut it down, telling him that your room would just become your own personal porn studio if he did both and would never go back to normal, and he died of laughter as the old lady on the train gave you a shocked look and moved away.

No filming. At least not today.

“Do you want your song, or do you want a video?”

“That is an extremely hard decision, baby.”

“Make it before I make it for you.”

“I want my song,” Joost says, simply and finally, and you nod.

“You’ll get your song.”

Joost lies down on top of you and the weight is comfortable as he holds himself up with one hand and cups your face in the other.

He hasn’t shaved in a few days, his stubble scratchy against your chin as he comes forward and kisses you, soft lips against yours, his body warm and heavy and already grinding his crotch against your center as he slides his hand up your side, bringing up the hem of your camisole.

You’re hyperfocusing on all the sounds; you’re both quieter than normal, just the smack of your lips against each others, the licking of his tongue into your mouth; the sound of fabric against fabric as he grinds his hips into yours and groans, half-hard already; the shifting of Joost lifting your tank top and exposing your tits to his dilating blue eyes, getting back up off you on his knees.

Joost runs his knuckles down the curve of your breast and over to the other, making your nipples pebble in the already cooling air, your muscles jumping and leaping with how sensitive you are. “How cute,” he murmurs, and your cheeks burn. There’s something different about him today—if you think about it, if you were a music artist and your girlfriend let you record audio of how good the sex is, you’d be cocky too.

The confidence looks good on him, a small smirk on his lips as you gaze up at him through your eyelashes and take off your shirt completely, tossing it to the side and lying back again.

Joost tugs on your shorts and you shimmy them down as he rolls one of your nipples between his fingers, the sensation tying a knot in your stomach with want for him. “Why aren’t you taking off your clothes?” you ask, tilting your head to the side as he lies atop you again.

“Just want to try something,” he says, placing a kiss between your breasts before he moves over to your nipple, taking it in his mouth and kneading the other breast in his hand.

Grazing it lightly with his teeth, you let out a small hiss at the sensation before he closes his lips around it and sucks; your mouth drops open watching him as he does it, intent and content with his place on you. You just got him back after a month and a half away in Berlin working on music nonstop—you have an inkling that you both feel like this is where he belongs.

For a while, you both lie there as he mindlessly suckles at your tits, as you play with his hair and pretend like there isn’t a pool in your panties waiting to be addressed further than this—you don’t want to rush him. “Art can’t be rushed,” or whatever he says when he’s too busy editing visuals or tweaking his tracks in progress.

Stifling back a sigh, you tug at the short hair on the nape of his neck, his tongue swirling around the stiff peak of your nipple. A tiny little mewl lets itself out of your mouth as he laps at it. Pulling back with a pop, nipping at the skin next to it—“Dude…” he starts. “You’re being… so quiet. Is someone a little shy, schat?” Joost grins, kissing you.

You furrow your brows. You are but you’re not going to get called out by the most outgoing person you know like this. “No, I’m not.”

“I think you are, you haven’t said a word.”

“I’m not,” you insist, smiling once you realize that you have the perfect comeback. “You’re just not doing enough to make me say anything.”

Joost’s entire face changes, falling completely flat with his eyes narrowed at you and you grin. “Oh, I haven’t done enough? Is that what you said, lieverd?”

“I don’t wanna say it’s not enough. But definitely not enough to give you your Dutch Grammy award-winning sound bite. The pace you're moving, we’ll get a participation trophy at best.”

“I’m not doing enough—I am lying on your tummy letting you berate me while I suck your boobs, don’t think I forgot about the last month!!!” he exclaims, voice rough and accusatory and silly, smile so wide as he jabs his finger in your face. “Don’t think I forgot!!!”

“You’re still on that?” you laugh, squishing his cheeks, getting his hair out of his eyes.

“Duh,” he grumbles. “It’s half the reason why I wanted to do this.”

“Forgive me, then.”

There’s been no time for you to call or Facetime him in this past month; only texting and one-sided voice messages from Joost pleading for you to send him a voice memo back but you’ve refused, either willingly or unwillingly. You’ve been so tired, your voice and energy all going to talking to clients and people in real life that you just couldn’t muster the strength to send him back any after a long day—Joost couldn’t call for long either, too occupied with the final touches on the album.

He asked you one night, sleepy voice rasping about how he just wanted to hear you, and he sounded so hot—you texted back that you couldn’t sound sexy and all he said was that he didn’t care if you sounded sexy. He just wanted you.

Still, you couldn’t let it happen.

Joost whined all the way up until his train home got to the station; all the way home in the car as you drove him and asked about his work; all the way up to now, pouting with his prickly chin on your bare chest and his arms wrapped around your waist.

“If that isn’t enough, how far can I go to get my audio clip, then?” Joost asks.

The both of you are competitive as can be with each other.

So long ago, you bet him he couldn’t make you cum just from internal stimulation alone—he proved you wrong and then some. He bet you last year (and every year before that you’ve been together) that he could last all of November not cumming—you manage to prove him wrong anywhere from 2-5 days before his birthday on the 10th. Everything is a competition, everything is a game for you two, that’s what makes the relationship so fun.

If you give Joost an inch, he’ll take a mile, and you know that better than anyone.

“As far as you think it takes, Joosti.”

Wordlessly, he gets up off from you and sits on the side of the bed facing the wall, in front of the mirror that’s there now—obtained at a swap meet somewhere in the city and hauled back by you both; standing against your wall, the top rounded in an arch, used mostly for outfit checks and Joost to try on a million different clothing pieces before he decides on things he wears all the time.

“Sit between my legs, baby.”

“Why should I do that for you?”

“Because I want you to do it for me,” he says, looking back at you and patting his lap. “Here. Sit down or none of this will happen.”

Usually, Joost is never so commanding—he’d rather ask you, sweetly and nicely to please do something for him. There isn’t a demanding bone in his body. And yet…

You take the seat between his legs and look at yourself as he hooks his fingers in the white and lacy waistband of your panties and pulls them down your thighs, down your calves. His lips ghost over the nape of your neck as he watches you in the mirror—Joost is always intense, always strong-willed, but it’s as if he’s come back a changed man.

“I want you to watch me do enough.”

He hooks his hand under your right knee; you let him bring your leg up and drape it over his, spread wider than you’re used to. The same is done to the other leg; if you tried to close them, you’d be unable to.

“I’ll get those sounds out of you if it kills me, lieverd.”

The cotton of his shorts, Tears as always; your shared necklaces resting on the chest hair that pokes out of the neckline of his wifebeater—they rub against your backside as you adjust your position on him, Joost’s warm and clothed body making your naked skin feel piping hot.

He places his hands on your inner thighs, squeezing lightly. There is the feel; of his rough fingertips gliding against your silky skin, dancing across the jumpy nerves of the junction between your leg and the beginnings of the most sensitive parts of you.

“Do you know how hard it was for me not to hear your voice for so long, lieverd?”

With his gentle hands, Joost spreads you open, exposing the most private part of you to both of your eyes, his chin hooked on your shoulder and looking down directly at it. You almost shrink into yourself, bringing you closer to his chest against your back, rising and falling steadily. In contrast, your breathing is so erratic, you feel as if your lungs might tire.

The microphone will pick up your labored breathing, as much as you’re trying not to make a single sound; the mirror reflects your furrowed brow back at you as he dips his fingers inside, light and gentle, bringing the wetness back up to circle your clit slowly.

“Mooi,” Joost murmurs, gazing intensely down at your form in his hands, putty in and between his fingers. “Look at you, hm?”

You’ve done this so many times—watched as he’s fucked you, in the mirror or when you watch your bodies meeting, over and over again when he fucks into you, cock reaching your deepest parts. But today is something different, you can’t tell why, but it brings hot heat to your chest and cheeks, to see it so clearly.

You can’t deny it—it’s you in that mirror, it’s you with your legs spread for him, it’s you.

It’s Joost behind you, a mess of blonde hair, no glasses on today, his rough chin against your shoulder as he pets you slowly. 1982 exposing you, 1983 doing the rest of the work.

“Als een mooie bloem, mijn lief,” he murmurs, two fingers spreading your lips, another rubbing your clit so gingerly you want to swear at him to go faster, harder, but you know he’ll just do the opposite of your wishes in this mood he’s in.

“A flower?” you breathe out, and Joost smiles at you in the reflection. Still though, you know your words aren’t what he wants at the moment.

“Pretty flower,” he says, and the smile is gone.

The sound—the sound of his fingers rubbing tight circles on your clit, the wetness from your pussy all he needs to do so, not spit or lube or anything else. Just the slickness of the back and forth of his hands on you.

The rain beats down on your roof, louder now, the backdrop for those filthy sounds coming from you. “You’re still so quiet, I think the mic will capture the rain more than you,” he mumbles into your neck, kissing and nipping at it. ”The quieter you are, the longer we have to do this.”

“Is that really an issue?” you say, labored through the consistent circles of your clit. You turn away, looking at the side of his face—“Ah, my god,” you whisper, moaning softly as he brings his hand up to your nipple, rolling it between his fingers and kneading your breast.

“Not really, but I question how much you can take.”

“I can take a lot, you know that.”

“If you can take a lot—why are you looking away?”

He moves your chin gently so you're looking at yourself in the mirror again, and he’s looking at you so intently, pupils so blown out you'd almost think his irises were black. You look down at your pussy to avoid how burning his gaze is; watch as he pets at your entrance, and slides his two middle fingers inside, the stretch warm and all you’ve needed the past several minutes.

Still you hold it back, chomping down on your bottom lip not to let any sound close to a real moan out—you’ve made the rules for yourself: not loud enough to be usable, the least amount of sounds possible, and the biggest one, proving to be the hardest as he continues…don’t say “Joost.”

When Joost starts curling his fingers inside of you, pace slow as ever and he grinds the heel of his hand against your clit—you have to stifle a whimper, both at the sound, and the appearance of it, his fingers disappeared inside of you. “You’re really going to do this, lieverd?”

“I never said I’d make getting your song easy.”

“I like a challenge.” Joost gives you a kiss to your temple and you smile even as he ceases his fingers moving. “That's why you’re my girlfriend.”

“Hey,” you giggle, and then stop giggling when he moves his fingers faster and it makes a truly blushworthy squelching noise come from inside you. He does it again—why would he stop, seeing the way your face screws up in pleasure in the mirror at the pads of his fingers on your g-spot?

For some reason, you expected him to be nice about it, let you have a little break—but two can play this game, you know that well.

Your wetness is louder than even the rain, his rhythm making the sound almost incessant. “Do you think we could make that the beat?” he thinks out loud and you give him a bewildered expression.

“You…no. One day I’ll understand your thought processes.”

“What do you mean? You already do.”

You never realized how loud it could be to do any of this. Can people hear you so clearly all the time? Your neighbours, your roommates, strangers.

The countless times you’ve fucked in backstage dressing rooms, club bathrooms, the backyard—this is what it sounds like? There is no mistaking it. On the audio recording, it’ll be even clearer. Your voice, high pitched and breathy. Joost’s voice, deep and low and rumbling against your neck.

“How many people do you think, schat? How many have heard us?…I think they would like it, how it sounds when I’m inside you.” You shake your head, heat rushing to your cheeks and the tension in your chest rising at the same time at his words.

“You're so wet, my baby, and this is only the beginning—what about when you cum? How loud do you think you are then? What will my fans think when they hear this, hm?”

“Jo—mmm, fuck,” you sigh, stopping yourself from saying his name.

This shame and arousal growing inside of you—they’re like two sides of the same coin for you, and they accompany that tightening in your stomach, so close to cumming. The impish and petulant devil on your shoulder tells you not to do it so quickly, not to let Joost get what he wants after you agreed so eagerly to this entire thing.

You screw your face up, thinking of… paperwork and saying bye to Joost at the airport and sad kittens in animal shelters—you have never actively avoided an orgasm in your life, but this is working quite well, and it seems to be obvious.

“Schat, are you serious right now?” You open your eyes to see yourself and Joost behind you, his lips a straight line, no amusement to be found on his normally jovial face. “What are you doing?”

“Being a challenge, I thought you knew,” you say, voice more wavering than strong—your eyebrows furrow, a sheen of sweat on your forehead as Joost continues crooking his fingers right into your g-spot. Almost immediately, you lose your focus on keeping your climax away, melting into the pleasure of his thick fingers fucking you open.

“Say my name, baby, that’s all I want from you.”

“No,” you say softly, turning your head and resting it back on his shoulder—he knows what you want, and he can’t resist you. “Please?”

Joost looks at you, blue eyes so warm you almost think he’ll give you what you’re asking—a kiss, his lips on yours, but he only gets so close that your noses brush, that all you can do is breathe into his mouth and hope he gets closer.

You try to adjust yourself, but he holds you in place with his forearms, still thrusting his fingers inside of you, your face contorting in pleasure with every single move he makes closer and closer to your face, tipping you right over the edge, right where your climax is and then—

Nothing.

As quickly as he moved them, Joost takes his fingers out of you, resting them wet on your thigh as you tense with what you thought was going to be an orgasm, a tidal wave of bliss flowing through you. In reality, the waves subside quicker than usual without him fucking you through it, and the sensation is ruined—almost completely.

Pathetically, you let out a whimper, can’t even let out the moan or the gasp of his name he wants so badly, that’s how miserable it feels. Joost’s never done that with you before—he’s always gotten you to the peak and rode down with you through it, kissing and licking and petting you through it and even past that point, mischievous and pushing your buttons when you swear at him to give you a break from all the bliss.

“Joost,” you pout, eyebrows furrowed and mouth downturned. “Fuck you.”

“Fuck me? You weren’t doing what I wanted, schat, why should you get a good one out of that?” Joost scoffs, and though he doesn’t seem too serious, breathing heavily against your back with you, you can’t help but feel like you did something so wrong. “You’re playing too much.”

It makes sense now—he asked you for one thing—one thing.

Wasn’t much to ask, either. Microphone and equipment straight from his yet to be unpacked suitcase. Joost’s one reprieve from album mode until he’d take the train back for him and Tantu to do a final once over on every single track. This stage in the process takes weeks, sometimes even months—pushing too many buttons on the control panel, their soundboards and computers and plans all prodded and poked and pushed to the limit until the project is the amalgamation of their creative vision and perfection.

This time, you pushed too many buttons; through all of this, you’ve forgotten that Joost has been at home less than 24 hours, that the train ride from Berlin to Amsterdam was 6 hours long with no stops, no wi-fi, no you to soothe his worries, only album preparations far past his self-imposed deadlines and his own thoughts.

You’re both workaholics—it’s why you get along so well, but it means that you know better than anyone that the last thing you’d want to be after so long is annoyed, and annoyed on purpose at that.

When he’s as petulant as you’ve been so far, you know that you can get annoyed as well, asking him to just—stop. And he does, but you couldn’t do that for him. Joost has gotten frustrated with you before, sure, it happens enough that you’re not so affected by it anymore.

But he’s never been so frustrated before that he’s ruined your orgasm. For some reason, the expression on Joost’s face, the heat of the moment, the dull pulse between your legs at both your immense need for him and the emptiness you feel at such a clipped climax has you emotional and overanalyzing the last half hour, every bratty quip of yours, every response from him.

“I’m really sorry, I know you had a long few days, I shouldn’t have—” Water lines your eyes, and you try to blink it away when you ask in a weak voice, “Are you mad at me?” You feel terrible. Embarrassed.

Joost meets your eyes in the mirror, eyes widening in surprise at your emotions strung so tight; you break, a tear running down your cheek which you quickly wipe away because you feel like you're making a big deal out of things and it’s just—aghhh!!!!

“No, my baby, of course not,” he smiles, face sympathetic, lips pouting at his baby being so emotional. Such a reaction would usually make you roll your eyes at him, but he’s so sweet, you have to nuzzle closer to him. “Come here,” he says, wrapping his arms around you and letting you curl up in his lap. “You’re so cute, mijn schat,” he coos, giving you a wet kiss on the cheek as he hugs you tight.

Joost is so kind to you, it makes you feel a bit silly—not in a bad way, just one where you’d never think you’d be sitting on his lap, naked, being comforted about having your orgasm ruined by him. Almost five years of this kindness, you’re not sure you’ll ever be used to it.

“I just got a little frustrated that’s all, none of it was serious, okay? I thought it would be a little fun for us to try something new like that, but I should’ve talked about it with you before—I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say, wiping your eyes a little. “Just don’t look so serious next time, I really thought you were angry.”

“I got too in the moment, I guess.” Joost moves your hair aside and kisses you on the lips, tender and sweet. “I’ll make up for it, I promise you.”

With that, you nod, letting him kiss you, letting him suck your lower lip in his mouth and then lick into yours, touch so devastatingly slow it almost makes you whine again with anticipation. Joost places a gentle hand over your throat, giving it a small squeeze, and he laughs when you moan, quiet and stifled into his mouth at the pressure. “You know, you’re very pretty when you’re desperate,” he says softly when he pulls away, and your cheeks burn.

“I could say the same about you, Joosti.” He noses at the side of your face, and you melt at the feeling of his skin on yours. “Am I not pretty all the time?” you tease, and he rolls his eyes.

“Don’t start, schatje. Gorgeous, beautiful angel—is that what you want me to say? Lie down and hold your legs back.”

Quickly, you get off of him and lie back down on the bed on your mountain of pillows, and he takes his place sitting between your legs, wet fingers running through your folds as he takes a look at you, all of you. “Aren’t you pretty?”

He takes your left hand, kisses your palm then your fingers, then he places it firmly on the back of your left knee. He does the same for your right side, then lies in between your open legs, staring, examining. One finger down your slit, collecting your wetness on the tip—Joost leaves a bite on the meat of your ass, trailing kisses all the way until he kisses over your entrance, over your clit.

You breathe heavily with anticipation, but still, you find it in you to tease. “Doing a lot of silent things for an audio recording, Joosti.”

“Not silent—all of it is important, every second.” He shakes his head to

“Defeats the whole purpose of the audio? Doesn't it?” You smile, flexing your ankles, feeling your muscles stretch as Joost teases your clit with his index finger, makes you open your legs wider. “The whole point is to record how good you make me feel, right?”

“You want to be silent so badly for me, you want to play around so much—why are you calling me out for it? That I want us to have fun?” Joost rolls his eyes, but then smiles at you, trying to soothe the burn. “I like when you play,” he murmurs, then spits on your pussy, making you full body shiver when you do. “Play even more, let’s make this recording go hours.”

“And I’ll cum all I want?”

“Careful what you wish for.” Joost rubs the spit over your bud, spreading you with two fingers and petting at it with another. “Als een prinses, schatje. Spoiled.”

“Spoiled,” you mock, and he shakes his head at you, grinning.

You probably shouldn’t rile Joost up so much—it’s too late for you to save yourself when he dives in, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking hard. The spit and silky softness of his tongue make you keen, how good it feels to have him on you, his lips sucking so much, so good, so wet.

The slide of Joost’s finger inside of you surprises you, how gently he pets against your spot internally as he laps at your pussy; you sigh, having to close your mouth on purpose to not make any sound. He sucks your clit between his lips, tightening, loosening, several seconds passing as he continues the pattern, making you groan with the feeling of him eating you out so well. It’s too much; you cry out when it hits what feels like 10 minutes with his tongue on you, but is really only 20 seconds at most.

Too much, so good—bucking your hips up, you squirm, futile against his strong hands holding you down by the backs of your knees folded almost to your chest as he drinks you in, the wet sound of his mouth smacking against you so humiliatingly wonderful you could cry. How are you supposed to stay silent now?

“I’ll never get enough of this, lieverd,” he says before diving back in, lips wrapped around your clit as you moan out at the suction, whining as you hold onto his arms for support, because pushing against him is no use—either way, who are you kidding? The last thing you want is for him to stop, especially after that first “orgasm”. Completely breathless, you stop trying, tired hips back on the damp bed sheets.

“Good girl, baby,” Joost praises at your defeat, your finally being subdued. The nickname makes you shudder, arousal pooling deep in your stomach, and you squeeze at his arms for some sort of comfort in response.

Joost nips at the thin and sensitive skin of your inner thigh and it makes you yelp, then he comes back and licks through you again, fucking his tongue inside of you.

There’s no sense of organization or pattern anymore with what he’s trying to do—he’s lost it. He’s lost it.

Your climax hits you like a freight train, your stomach and thigh muscles spasming, any control you had—lost. “Mmmf…fuck!” you exclaim, throwing your head back on your pillows as Joost keeps sucking your clit through your orgasm, white on the edges of your vision at how intense he’s doing it. “Ugh… shit!” you cry, panting out when he keeps going.

“It’s only a matter of time until you give me what I want, schatje,” he says in a quiet, sing-song voice, then attaches himself back to you. Your clit is practically numb with pleasure now, and yet, the waves are rolling through you, erratic and wonderfully uncomfortable.

You laugh out, tears at the edges of your eyes at how intense your nerves feel, how fried they are—“Joost, enough!” and he lets up off you. He sits back up and pouts at you, lips and cheeks wet with your arousal.

“‘Jooooooost!!!’” He laments, cursing at the sky in jest, and you laugh at how dramatic he is. “The line is ‘Joost!!’ Lieverd! Joost!!!” he says his own name in a weird, breathy moan that you’re half sure really will make it to a final draft of a song of his.

Holding yourself up, legs open and so wet between them, you purse your lips for a kiss, which Joost gives you. “You said we can make the recording go hours—I’m sure I’ll say it one of these times.”

“Okay, I’m glad I say the recording can go long—I will need a minute.” As Joost pulls back, you tilt your head to the side; he sounds… strange. Embarrassed, almost, and his cheeks are pink, and he can’t look you in the eye anymore, completely different from your ravenous and intimidating boyfriend from 45 minutes ago. “I think I came in my pants.”

“You’re kidding,” you scoff, throwing your head back and laughing.

Joost gets back up off the bed, stands. “Do I look like I'm kidding?” he says, pointing down to the wet spot on his crotch—he must’ve ground against the bed too much, how cute.

“You haven’t done that since we started dating,” you laugh, watching as he strips off his shorts and his underwear looks just as bad.

“Well, I did it again. Your fault. This sucks.” Joost shimmies down his boxers, picking them up and throwing them in the hamper; it hangs on the rim, he’s already soft, and he looks at you so dejectedly, then at the ground. You start to say ‘aww’ —he’s so cute and pathetic this way, but he wags a finger at you, saying, “Do not say ‘aww’ at my dick, you’re annoying,” and it makes you laugh harder until he’s laughing too, climbing on the bed and kissing you sweetly, pulling back only to take off his shirt and then immediately come back to you.

Laying atop you, he wraps his lips around your nipple, pulling at it gently with his teeth as you wince in the pain and the pleasure. Joost lays his tongue flat against it, laps at it, switches to the other one.

“I just love you,” he sighs, latching onto you again immediately after, and it makes you smile—insatiable, truly.

A few moments of this—letting Joost lave over your skin, the stiff peaks of your breasts, sucking hickeys into the meat of them—and he’s ready to sit back against the headboard together.

Your legs are open and his hand is between them in an instant, running his fingers along your skin. It feels strangely electric…not his fingers on you, but his arm against yours, the side of his sweat-sheened body against your hip, what it feels like to see “Thanks for today” on his collarbone and your name and lipstick mark tattooed on the other side of his neck forever.

Your thoughts are interrupted by Joost’s voice—“Why aren’t you saying my name, hm?” he says, gazing at your lips, his nose brushing against yours. You press a chaste kiss to his chin as he circles your clit, spreading your wetness around with his fingers. “It’s mean. It is sinister, what you’re doing.”

“You’re gonna have to work for it, I’m serious.”

“I will work overtime, I’ll be just like you,” he smirks, and shuts you up when he attaches his lips to yours, slips his middle fingers inside of you, grinds the heel of his hand on your clit as you gasp into his mouth, let him move down and suck at your jaw, your pulse point.

The concentration it takes not to lose it makes your eyebrows knit together. He murmurs, “Do you hear that, my love? Do you hear how wet I make you?” says it into your open and mewling mouth, the sound of it all—the squelch of your wetness at the behest of his fingers fucking your pussy. You’re beholden to him, and he enjoys it so much. The person you are at work and in life; normally so collected, preferring the comfortable quiet of your life together, now so bold to let him do this.

“Wat een mooi geluid, mijn meisje. You have me under your spell—what will happen when everyone hears this? Your siren song, hm? Is that what you want? Everyone to know how good I make you feel?”

The surprise on everyone’s faces that you could sound like this, all because of Joost—goofy, grinning, laughing Joost. Serious as ever about coaxing these sounds out of you as he kisses you slowly, tongue so languid on yours, tempting you, seducing you into giving him what he wants.

You’re almost delirious, the bubbling of laughter rising in your body as you grip onto his arm, so big, three of Joost’s thick fingers nestled inside of you and curling against your spot, stroking it with no abandon. You’re stretched thin around him, squirming and twitching with the rising peak coming to a head in your body.

He doesn’t even thrust his middle fingers in and out of you; only keeps them there, deep and to the knuckle inside of your pussy as he curls his fingers inside of you again and again, petting and petting and petting at the most sensitive part inside of you. At the same time, he circles your clit with his thumb—you could almost pass out with how good it feels, how hot you are in this room, rain beating on your roof, his mouth on yours and receiving every single moan and breath you put out.

The only thing absent is a crackling fire and a bottle of wine to fit the mood, but you can’t really complain.

“Happy?” he asks, smiling.

“Joost,” you choke out, eyebrows furrowing as you gaze at him, then close your eyes, touching your forehead to his, clutching his bicep, the challenge to yourself not to say his name all but forgotten.

“Yeah, baby?” Joost grins—in the pursuit of his craft, your boyfriend has turned evil.

“I feel like…” you start, face screwed in pleasure, words stolen from you by his curling fingers, confused at this feeling inside of you you’ve never felt before. “I just feel…”

“What is it, baby?” Joost teases, fucking into you, devilish. “Can you tell me? Can you use your words, like I’ve been asking you to?”

“I’m gonna…”

Burning hot and building up and up and up inside of you, in your stomach, in your chest, your tired thighs tensing the knot in your stomach tightens and tightens and tightens until it snaps, hard and fast; you don’t even realize the curses and almost chanting of his name tumbling out of your mouth as you look down and see—

Clear liquid runs down from your pussy, down your ass as you groan out, a punched out moan tumbling from your lips. The wet squelch around his still moving fingers even louder now—oh my god? There’s wetness beneath you now, a small laugh of disbelief coming from Joost as you gush all over his fingers and hand and writhe with your powerful climax, the bed under you wet, the comforter wet, everything wet, and all because of Joost.

You whine and he nods, smiling at you. “Schatje…I didn’t think it would work…”

“Oh my god,” you whisper, half laughing and half embarrassed at the mess you’ve made, panting and completely out of breath. “This is so embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?! Mijn schat, that’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen, I think.” He takes his fingers out of you with a sound that makes you cringe, and holds his hand in the air, fingertips dripping with your wetness, shiny and slick. You had no idea you could even do that, let alone feel whatever white hot pleasure was ripping through you while you did, and you laugh at his amazement with your hands over your mouth.

“We’ll have to change the sheets again,” you pout once you realize—you just changed them yesterday before he got here, and the other set of sheets is dirty. Ughhhhh.

“I’ll wash the other sheets—I would change them a million times over if it meant you doing that again.”

“We’ll run out of sheets before that happens, Joost.” He hates changing the sheets, but he’s so desperate for it, obviously.

“I’ll make new ones,” Joost says proudly, then kisses you. “Please don’t worry about the bed. I’ll take care of it, and to be honest, I would like you to mess it up even more.” Kiss on your lips. Your worries have melted away with it. “You were so good to me, yet I still didn’t get my song. Tell me, why is that, mijn schat? You want me to torture you for longer?” he says softly, kissing you on the lips.

“It’s not torture,” you breathe out and Joost laughs. “I said your name, what more do you want from me?”

“It’s not torture? Is that right?” he asks, and you nod, coming up to kiss him again, “I want to be inside you, lieverd, that’s what I want.”

Only now do you notice that he’s hard again—the same hand he used to finger you wrapped around his cock, your wetness his lubrication alongside the precum drooling from his tip. “That’s what you’ll get, then,” you say, sweet and smiling and so ready for it even after Joost has had his way with you for what feels like hours now.

It’s your wetness that’s darkened Joost’s arm hair and the hair on his stomach; your wetness facilitating his sharp sighs as he pleasures himself to the sight of you, the thought of you, the sound of you.

Beaming, Joost turns away to the side. “If it isn’t obvious to you, the audience,” he says into the microphone in a silly voice. “This is the first time I’ve made her squirt, and she still wants me so bad!! What the fuck!! I am sooo so lucky!!! What amazing sight, wow. Shoutout lieverd, for real!!” Your laugh is sure to be captured in the background, your small “Shoutout Joosti!” too. Joost turns back to you—”My one in a trillion, baby,” a kiss to your lips, your body being laid on the damp sheets again and your legs opening in response.

“mijn_schatje_loml_voor_altijd_TANTUPLSDONOTLISTEN.mp3” has been running for 1 hour, 33 minutes, 8 seconds, 3 milliseconds—feels like so much longer. Joost lies between your legs again on his stomach, his cheek on your thigh, his calves in the air swinging and happy and him batting his eyelashes at you “innocently.” “Dickhead,” you laugh, knowing he wants to put his tongue on you again, and he laughs too.

“Your favourite one, though, right?”

“Yes, my favourite one.” You roll your eyes at his giggles but smile nonetheless at him. “I want you inside me, Joosti, don’t make me wait, please.”

Joost holds up a finger—“One criticism—”

“Already?!” you exclaim. “What is it?”

Joost gets up off of you and goes to the dresser to the side of your bed. You tilt your head in confusion—there isn’t much in there he could need for the rest of this, but he seems to be determined. “I think it’s the cutest thing when you call me Joosti and I never want you to stop doing that,” he starts, rummaging through the drawer. “But I think for the sake of the song, or your part in it, it would be better if you just said ‘Joost.’ Can you do that?”

“I can do that, Joost,” you tease, your perfectionist musician of a boyfriend coming out in full force.

“Good, good, schat. Now can you say it while I’m using this on you?”

Joost turns around holding…Ole Reliable, the name you both call a taupe vibrating wand that was your best friend before you two started dating, is your best friend when he’s gone for longer than a month or two and your fingers aren’t enough when you two are FaceTiming…to Joost’s absolute displeasure. When he’s home, it hides in your underwear drawer—but trust, he knows where it is.

“Be serious, Joost,” you laugh in disbelief. There’s no way that Ole Reliable will be part of this with how much lighthearted vitriol Joost has treated it in the past, calling it his “mortal enemy,” his “biggest competition.” This isn’t real.

“It takes you like, 3 hours to cum after I’ve made you cum so many times, this will help,” he shrugs, and he’s right. You’re so overstimulated at this point that he’d have to fuck you for longer to get you over the edge, but the vibrator is a bit overkill—it’s powerful, and you’ve made your own legs shake with it countless times, with or without Joost.

“I think I’ll end up…squirting—ew, I hate that word—even more if you use it.”

“It’s not so bad of a word, mijn schat. And either way—bed is already dirty. Why not go all out so we don’t have to clean up again?”

Joost makes a good point, and you know he’ll want to see more of your newfound ability later on—minimizing the cleanup later sounds good, so you lie back, open your legs, run your fingers through your wet folds as his eyes widen at your eagerness. “Let’s go all out,” you giggle and he flops on top of you, exclaiming, “Yayyyyy!!!”

It’s slow, the way he hooks your legs over his thighs, long presses the button of the vibrator, presses it again once so it turns on completely, and then recoils in surprise when he presses the largest button again and again. “Whaaattt the fuck, I didn’t know there were so many patterns in it. That is crazy. You use this?! What is ‘thumping feature.’ There are so many buttons. What…” Joost looks at it in wonder, the vibrations sure to be going through his entire forearm—that thing is strong, and you know it.

“There are only 2 buttons, Joost.”

“That is a lot to me.”

Cycling it back to the lowest, most tame setting, he places the head on your clit, gentle; you hiss at the waves coming through you, even at the lowest rate it could possibly go. “Do you like that, baby?” he asks, voice low, other hand coming down to slip a finger in your pussy. “You look like you love it.”

Nodding, Joost takes your hand and wraps it around the handle of the wand, and you hold it against yourself as he jerks his cock between your legs, enveloping the warm head of it in your entrance. It slips in so nice—you’ve been ready for it for hours now, you'd be surprised if it didn’t just slide in. Your eyes roll back, the back of your head hitting the wire frame of your bed, the vibrations coursing through you and his big cock parting your slit.

“Oh, fuckkk, schat,” Joost moans as he sinks into your soaking wet pussy. “So fucking wet, baby, you feel so good.”

Breathless, you nod, as Joost glides right in; he’s thick, but you're so wet. Three orgasms and counting for you, it’s so easy now. Angling the vibrator, you move it so you can see it all—how messy it is when he pulls his hips back to adjust how he’s thrusting into you, his pubes and happy trail wet with your juices, the hair on his thighs wet as well. What a mess you’ve made.

“Oh my god—“ he says, rolling his neck back in pleasure once he finally bottoms out inside of you, the wand pressed against his pelvis just as much as it’s pressed against yours. Joost bites his lip, shaking his head. Not so much of a mortal enemy, after all, is it? “How do I compete with this thing…”

“This thing could never be you, Joost,” you breathe, and it’s true. So tired, so happy, you’re a little emotional about it for some reason.

How he holds you so warm and safe and tight, always, never a question on if he wants and loves you—he always does and always will. In bed together like this, sheltered from the rain in your home together, your cats scratching at the door and a whole life ahead of you; on the train giggling with each other about the middle-aged and elderly side-eyeing his barking and boisterous laughter; in club bathrooms and snow covered curbs and swimming pools in your backyard and the couch downstairs.

The rest of the world should be envious about what you have, who you hold. Joost, this house, that audio recording, and you, forever.

“Hehe!” Joost leans over to the microphone and gloats into it, “Me—1! Vibrator—zeroooo! Hahahahah!”

You laugh—and this, forever. You could never trade this in.

Pulling Joost in, you kiss him sweet and slow, little thrusts of him inside of you as he moans into your mouth incessantly, every breath of his a whimper, it must feel so good—buried balls deep in your pussy, vibrator against your clit and pressed against the few centimeters of shaft that can’t fit in you when he begins thrusting inside of you sloppily, the hollow clap of his hips against you filthy as you moan out his name against the humming backdrop of the toy you're using together.

Every nerve in your body winds itself tight around the coil in your stomach as he fucks into you, a smooth and steady rhythm that makes you lose yourself, trying to wrap yourself around him, wanting to devour him whole, wanting to make it so it’s just you and him and no one else in the world, no one outside these walls, no one else. With Joost breathing into your mouth, his sweaty bangs tickling your forehead, the taste of his tongue on yours—there might as well be no one on this earth except you and him.

“I can't do it, Joost, it’s too much,” you whine as he keeps driving into you—god, you want it so badly, but three and a half orgasms later and you’re entirely spent, letting him do all the work as you moan loudly, no control over yourself or your body. The vibrator is pressed flush against your clit and gets you to the precipice faster than you’d like right now.

“You can do it, baby,” he coos, and you know there’s no way to get out of this. Either way, you wouldn’t want to, legs wrapped around him, the buzzing of the vibrator such music to your ears, the feeling of his cock driving into you and Joost, a warm and heavy and perfect weight atop you. As you claw at his shoulders, his back, he holds you open with his strong hands, your squirming no match for his strength with every deep seat of his cock inside of you. “I know you can, you can do it.”

When he says it, you believe it; you have to bite and suck at his neck in order to focus on keeping it together long enough for him to cum, apologizing to Lola in your head at your treatment of her, how she’ll be blooming purple and red by the time the sun rises tomorrow. Joost ruts into you, pressing the vibrator hard to your clit and it’s so…it’s so much, the mattress squeaks with how spirited his hips are against you, loud slaps of skin against skin and your name, his name, intertwined on this wavelength, on this track for everyone to hear.

“Joost…fuck, Joost!” you cry out again and again, tears coming to your eyes with how hard and fast your orgasm rips through you, repeating Joost’s name like a prayer, an oath, gushing around him and too fucked out to kiss back properly when he licks into your mouth, grounding you back to this bed even as you sob out in pleasure, fat tears rolling down your cheeks at how amazing he’s making you feel. “I love you,” you breathe, blissed and fucked out tears streaming down your cheeks at how good it feels, all open and airy.

“Why are you all sappy, baby? ‘Cause I’m fucking you so well?” Joost teases, pressing wet kisses to your tear stained cheeks, your mouth bitten red with his nips, his kisses all throughout this.

“Yes, I love you, Joost,” you sniffle, wrapping your arms around his neck, bringing him closer even if it means the vibrator gets pushed even harder against your aching clit.

He laughs, continuing his feverish thrusting as he finally gives you the kiss you want. “I love you too, mijn hart.”

You don’t notice him fumbling around on the side table as he kisses you, bringing the wired earphone from the nightstand back to your ear, your eyes widening in surprise.

“Do you hear that, mijn schat?” The feedback, his voice, doubled and almost echoing as you hear it in real life and it plays out in your ears, delayed. You have to try and dampen the rest of your senses to focus on what you’re hearing. The slopping of his hips against your ass, the low pitched vibrations of the wand, his voice.

Joost’s voice that distracts you until you’re snapped out of it by him pulling out, stroking his cock and panting heavily, cheeks and chest and neck pink with exertion, skin shining with sweat. “What are you doing?” you mumble.

“You’ve already done so much, schat,” Joost breathes, and you shake your head, looking up at him through wet eyelashes.

“Finish what we started, I want it all.”

Obediently, Joost nods, inching himself back inside you again; it sounds so wet in your ears, the microphone capturing every gritty detail, every squelch of yours and his.

“Schat, I wanna…fuck, I wanna cum inside you so bad,” he whines, erratic thrusting with every word, losing it again, losing the practiced, methodical musician that you know so well. Even with his whining, his voice is deep, needy, chanting your name like you moaned his. “Wanna…fuck, I wanna fuck it in you ‘til it takes, I want everyone to hear it, see it, know you’re mine…mine, mine, mine…”

“Yeah, baby?” you smile, his cheek laid against your tits as he grinds against you, then goes back for long, deep strokes inside of you. Joost groans so loud against your skin, spit and sweat on the softness of your breasts; so overwhelmed, he takes your nipple in his mouth and sucks, nipping at you through his own orgasm, stuttering his hips into your pussy.

Warm ribbons of Joost’s cum paint your insides and fill you up so well, your moans finally joining his as he comes down from his high, moaning and sobbing out your name, lieverd, schat, collapsing on your chest and heaving for his breath again as you catch yours once more, satisfied with your recording together.

“That a good enough song for you, Joost?” you smile, eyes already closing with the bliss of such a good recording session together.

“Dutch Grammy worthy, mijn meisje,” Joost breathes, and you laugh as he reaches to the side and shuts his laptop, ending your recording. “How about another recording session later?”

—

A month later and you’re carrying a paper bag of takeout from a few blocks down, earphones blasting a new demo from Joost and Tantu, using the spare key under Tantu’s doormat to get into his apartment from the cold. You set down the bag on the counter of his tiny kitchen, place the key back under the doormat, get three bowls together to split the takeout between, get utensils and glasses of water and what have you before you enter the bedroom studio.

The takeout fights you tooth and nail; cheap food spilling everywhere, oil and sauce and vegetables on the counter and the rims of the bowls that you have to wipe up with the one (1. ONE!) paper towel left on the roll in the kitchen. Is this what happens when Ruby isn’t in town and they’re in album mode? You figure it must.

You manage to wrestle it all together precariously, using every square centimeter of the one paper towel you have in your arsenal before picking up all three bowls—two of them nestled in your left arm, one of them held in your right hand.

The door to the bedroom is closed shut—your arms are full, and you spend a few moments fussing about how to get in without having to go back into the kitchen and set down the food, but you hear Tantu and Joost’s muffled voices through the door.

“Oh my god, I shouldn’t have skipped ahead—“

“You should've never played it, Tantu!”

“Well, you shouldn’t have kept it on your desktop for anyone to see! With my name on it!”

You tilt your head in confusion, and then knock on the door with your foot; in an instant, Tantu opens it for you, and you hear, loud and clear: “I wanna fuck it in you ‘til it takes, I w—” before Joost slams the laptop shut and says, “Baby, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I—”

2 fics in a few weeks!! lfg!!! i hope you enjoyed!! <3 thank you so much for reading! likes, comments, reblogs always so so appreciated <3 : ) they keep me writing!! askbox anon on hereeee - juno

#joost klein smut #joost klein x reader #joost x reader #joost smut #joost x you #joost fanfiction #joost klein fanfiction #joost fanfic #joost klein x you #juno's fics #juno’s writing #juno’s smut #normal au

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totalswag · 8 months ago

Note

Please a Drew and reader. They are in the dating faze getting to know each other. However Drew is having some trouble getting to know her. Reader has been in a quite toxic relationship before with a guy that could be mean, did not like when she was being physically loving (holding hands, kissing, hugging) brushing her off literally and could sometimes make her feel like she was being a burden whenever she was talking, which in turn has made her not open up to much, in fear, that she will come off as annoying. When they are having a date at home, Drew pulls her close to hold her and kiss her forehead, but she pulls away after awhile. He then brings up what has been bothering him, afraid, sad and a bit nervous that she does not like him as much as he likes her.

you can trust me — DREW STARKEY

authors note hi baby! thank you for the request and sorry it came so late when you initially requested. life has been crazy since my semester has begun.

REQUEST— open

summary holding back when it comes to physical touch and being your complete self in a new relationship with someone new.

warning(s) mentions of past toxic relationships, insecurities, questioning self-worth.

Drew and you have been seeing each other for almost a month. You haven't felt so happy in a long time to be with someone that values, supports, and loves you for who you are.

Meeting him was unexpected but came into your life when you needed him the most. Drew is very gentle with you and patient in ways you couldn't describe.

Drew has noticed that you are reluctant to touch him and quickly pull away or get nervous before taking his hand. This is something he has noticed about you as you have spent more time with him. He wants to know why you're like this but wants you to be comfortable.

Both are getting to know one other. You haven't gathered the guts to discuss your previous relationship with your ex, who treated you like dirt and never wanted you to touch him. Whether it be holding hands, kissing, embracing, or any other physical contact.

Physical touch is a part of your love language. So being pushed away from someone you care about while attempting to express your feelings for them makes you feel burdened.

Your ex ruined you in a lot of ways.

Once you met Drew, immediately knowing you can be yourself with him without him retaliating. But, you haven't showed him that side of you yet because of your past.

Drew invited you to his apartment for dinner tonight and prepared your favorite pasta dish. He understands you've had a difficult week at work, so he thought inviting you over for dinner would cheer you up.

"Thank you for dinner, Drew; it was delicious," you say, smiling sweetly as you finish your pasta.

"I really appreciate that, Y/N," he says with a smile. "I'm always open to making you dinner."

He’s so sweet

Drew and you cleaned the kitchen before heading to the living room to watch a movie to end the night. He thought it would be good to bring out the food and drinks while you waited on the couch.

"What movie do you wanna watch?" With the TV remote in his left hand while looking at the movie selections.

"Uhh pitch perfect" you reply.

Drew nods in agreement, clicking the movie.

Drew tries to wrap his right arm around your shoulder and kiss you on the forehead halfway through the film, but you pull away hesitantly.

"Everything alright, Y/N?" he frowns with emotion and confusion, "did I do something wrong?"

Your heart fell as the question hovered there. You had been sensing this for days, even weeks, so you knew it was coming. But now that it was here, you were at a loss for words, unable to respond or justify it without driving him away.

When you eventually raised your head to meet his, you could feel the sorrow in his eyes, which tightened your chest. Your voice was barely heard as you murmured, "No, you didn't do anything wrong."

Everything in you was crumbling all together.

"Then why?" With a hand sweeping through his hair, he trailed off, unsure of how to carry on. "Why are you putting distance between us? Are you —? When he began again, you could hear his hesitation and fragility in his voice. "Do you not like me as much as I like you?"

Please don't say that

His words punched you in the gut— hitting you so deep. This wasn't fair to him what so ever. You like him as much as he likes you. Feelings are mutual.

"It's not that," you answered hastily, your voice shaking as you tried to fight back the tears that were about to fall. Yes, Drew, I do like you. Many times.

"So why," He asked. Seeking answers, he gazed at you, his eyes darting over yours. "What makes me think that you're scared to let me in?"

Fiddling with your fingers, trying to gather the words to say. You took a deep breath, gathering your courage. Drew knows about your last relationship but not the whole gist.

“I’ve been hurt before,” you began, your voice trembling. “My last relationship… it wasn’t good. He made me feel like I was too much, like I was annoying whenever I tried to talk or show affection. He’d brush me off, make me feel like I was a burden. And I guess… I guess I’m afraid of that happening again.”

Drew's expression softens with hurt, anger, and confusion. He continues to let you speak while holding your hands in reassurance—thumb gently circling over your knuckles. You can't help but let a few tears as you speak.

"I'm so sorry you went through that."

"It's not your fault. I've gotten so used to holding everything in, I didnt want you to think of me differently and walk away from me" you confess with your chest.

Drew's other hand reached up to softly cup your cheek and use his thumb to wipe away the tears while his grip on your hand tightened. He said, "You're not going to drive me away," and you might believe him because of the quiet passion in his voice.

"Y/N, I like you just the way you are. I was immediately drawn to your lovely demeanor and am still doing so now. Nothing you are doing is wrong. His eyes never leaving yours, "We can take this at any pace you want and I'll still be here."

You feel a sense of relief fall off your shoulders. The fear you've been holding back slowly drifts away.

"I want you to show how much you like me whether that be words or physical touch. I would never pull you away."

You didn't push away as he moved in to give you a soft kiss on the forehead. For the first time in a long time, you felt as though maybe—just maybe—you could begin to lower your barriers as you allowed yourself to lean into him and experience the warmth and security of his embrace.

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dismalflo · 2 months ago

Text

left behind

Sirius Black x reader who feels left behind when everyone else is in a relationship ✩ 1.6k words

cw: modern au, little bit of angst, little bit of fluff, hurt/comfort, reader has never been in a relationship, reader is a lil insecure

an: my fellow never been in a relationship people rise up also some amy march inspired dialogue for you all <3

Usually nights like these would make you feel lighter after a long week. Crammed into a booth in your favourite pub, surrounded by all the people that mean the most to you. But tonight, a strange heaviness is settling in your stomach, a hole that keeps growing bigger the more you think about it.

And you can’t stop thinking about it. Looking around, everyone’s happily coupled off—James glued to Lily’s side, Remus and Regulus whispering to each other in a little bubble of bliss, Marlene and Dorcas teasing each other playfully across the table. You’re happy for them, truly, but there’s a bitter sting when you remember that they don’t go home to cold, empty flats. They have each other at the end of the day. It’s a strange longing, to want something so badly, to miss it even though you’ve never had it.

And of course there's Sirius, the only other single in the group, but he seems to be seeing different girls all the time and has never looked your way, so you really don't think it's comparable nor do you want to talk to him about it and risk being mocked.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts when someone calls your name. You turn, catching Lily’s concerned gaze. A frown tugs at her lips.

“Are you alright? You seem a bit... stuck in your head.” You flush, embarrassed to be caught, relieved it’s only Lily who’s noticed. The air feels suffocating now, and you can barely breathe.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” you murmur, “I… I’ll be back in a minute.” Not being able to deal with the stuffy air anymore, you race out of the pub and into the alleyway next to it.

You should probably go home. You don’t want your mood to ruin the evening for everyone else. As you pull out your phone to send a text letting them know you’re leaving, the door of the pub slams open. Sirius, looking flustered, spots you and makes a beeline towards you.

“Hey, what's going on with you?” he asks, to the point straight away as is Sirius’ way.

“Nothing, I just think I’m gonna go home, I'm not feeling great.” You’re avoiding looking at him, eyes glued to the pebble you're kicking between your feet on the floor.

“Really?”, something in his voice gives away his suspicion, then, “You’re a horrible liar, Y/N.”

You cringe away from him, turning your body in an attempt to make sure he sees less of you. “I'm fine, Sirius, leave me alone.” your voice has taken on a sharper tone now, sadness has given way to frustration.

“You’re obviously not fine, and you're much too pretty to be stood out here upset by yourself.” There's a furrow in his brow, his face somewhere between confusion and concern, through the haze of your overwhelming emotions you see something else, something antagonising.

You scoff, your lip trembling. “Stop making fun of me. You’re being mean.” You’re fighting against tears now, desperate not to break in front of him.

“What—what are you talking about?” His expression falters, clearly trying to understand.

“You’re mocking me, i'm upset and your fucking mocking me!” you've turned hysterical now but you can bring yourself to care, it feels good to let out some of these emotions that have just been piling on top of you.

“Babe, I'm not I swear–”

He’s interrupted by you flinging your hands up exasperated, “Yes you are! You're calling me pretty and pet names as if you would ever look my way, when I know you wouldn't. And it's… it's fine, no one ever has for very long but I feel like I've fallen behind and it's horrible and being around everyone tonight got to me, okay?! Because they all have something I might never even experience.” you're practically shouting at the boy standing with you now.

Sirius is quiet for a second, mulling over your words, trying to figure out what to say in response. The silence makes you break the staring contest you'd been having with the floor, looking up at Sirius, his expression is devastated, as if you'd struck a killing blow against him with your words. It makes you want to shrink down to nothing, embarrassed by that outburst.

“That’s not– you’re not…” he pauses again, not sure what to say, “Is that really how you feel?”

You shrug, “That’s how it is, how it's always been.”

“I don’t believe you, people definitely look your way, i just think you don't realise it”

You shake your head, the frustration bubbling up again. "I do realize it, Sirius. It’s just—no one really sticks around. They look, they flirt, they leave. It’s fine. I’m used to it."

Sirius steps closer, his posture softening. “That’s not... you shouldn’t be used to being treated like that, Y/N. You deserve more than that.” His eyes meet yours. It makes your heart squeeze, and you look away again, your stomach twisting in knots

“You don’t get it. I don’t even know what I’m looking for. Maybe it’s just too late for me to figure it out," you mutter, voice cracking just slightly.

Sirius seems to hesitate, his usual flippancy replaced with something quieter, more thoughtful. "You’re not too late. You’re not behind." He pauses. “We all do things at our own pace.”

You let out a shaky breath, and for the first time tonight, you actually meet his gaze. His dark eyes are soft, intense, as if he’s trying to reach something deeper inside of you that you’ve been hiding. You want to look away, but you can't. You’re stuck.

"I—I don’t know how to fix it," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I don’t want to be the only one left behind. It’s like I’m watching everyone else move on, and I’m stuck in this weird limbo where nothing changes, where I’m always just... alone."

Sirius doesn’t break eye contact, and for a moment is lost in his own head. Then, in the quietest voice he’s ever used, he speaks.

"Darling, you’re not alone."

The words hang in the air between you, heavy and full of something you can't quite place. You blink, unsure if you heard him correctly. "What?"

Sirius takes a step closer again, his gaze never leaving yours. "I mean it," he says softly. "You’re not alone. Not now, not ever. I think you’ve been so focused on what you don't have that you’ve missed the people who do care. I care."

"You’re just saying that," you mutter, though there’s no real conviction behind the words anymore. You want to believe him, but part of you is terrified of what that might mean. Terrified that you’ll open up only to be let down.

Sirius’ hand reaches out hesitantly, as if unsure whether to touch you or not. The air feels thick, charged.

"I’m not just saying it," he insists, his voice steady despite the vulnerability in his eyes. "I wouldn't. You're not invisible to me. I've noticed you for a long time.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you take an involuntary step back. “But… you never— I mean, you’re always with other people. Girls who are… Well, not me.” Your voice wavers again.

Sirius doesn’t look away this time. His gaze is laser-focused, intense. “That doesn’t mean anything. I’ve been an idiot, honestly." He takes another step toward you. "I’ve always been too caught up in other things, other people. And I—” He hesitates, seemingly choosing his words carefully, “I didn’t want to mess up the friendship we have. I didn’t want to fuck up something or risk it.”

Your heart races, the words he says sinking in but feeling almost impossible to believe. You swallow hard, trying to process everything. "But you never said anything... I mean, all those times I—" you stop yourself, shaking your head, trying to steady the whirlwind inside you. "I always thought it was me, you know? That maybe I was just... not enough."

Sirius flinches, as if your words had physically hurt him. His expression crumples, a mixture of regret and longing in his eyes. He steps closer, the distance between you both closing.

"I’m sorry for making you feel that way," he says quietly, his voice sincere, each word weighted with meaning. "The last thing I ever wanted to do was make you feel like you weren’t enough. You’re everything to me. More than I even knew how to admit to myself."

You look up at him, the vulnerability in his gaze catching you off guard. "But we’re friends," you whisper, unsure of what this shift means, of what it could become.

He nods, his hand slowly reaching for yours, fingers brushing against yours before closing the space. "I know. But maybe we could be something else. If that’s something you… y’know"

The world feels like it slows for a moment, and in the quiet that follows, everything you've been holding inside seems to rise to the surface. All those feelings you kept buried, the doubts, the fears, and the yearning—it's all there, raw and untamed.

You search his eyes, as if trying to see if this is real, if it’s truly what he wants. You take a deep breath, your pulse thrumming in your ears.

"And if I’m scared?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sirius gives you a soft, reassuring smile, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. "I’ll be here. No matter what. We’ll figure it out together."

Slowly, you nod, the first step of what could be something entirely new—something thrilling—beginning.

"You’re sure?" you ask, a flicker of doubt still lingering, but less pronounced now.

"Positive." His voice is steady now, as steady as his hand around yours. "But only if you’re ready."

You take another breath. "I think I’m ready."

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

let me know what you think of this! I love any feedback! <3

#flo'sfics #marauders era #marauders fics #marauders au #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x you #sirius black fluff #sirius black x reader #sirius black fic #self insert #sirius black #sirius black angst #sirius black fanfiction #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic

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thanosscross · 4 months ago

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My Darling - Choi Seung Hyun x reader part 2

Summary: After months of not seeing your best friend, you finally reconnect, only to find out what he truly thinks about himself and the two of you, resulting in a brokenheart, and a new relationship

Warnings: none really, Seung Hyun having a slight panic attack

As you wrapped up filming for squid games, you were very quickly thrown back into the tour lifestyle, Bouncing from country to country, you couldn't shake the sadness of missing your friend though. As you got ready for your next music video shoot you took a nervous breath, you had sent an invite to Seung Hyun to come shoot on your video with you, using the excuse that you work well together acting, but he never replied. So you nervously waited, having a back-up actor if needed, but you specifically wrote this song about Seung Hyun, so it only felt right to get the chemistry behind the song right.

As you stepped on set you took one last glance around, all you could see was the empty warehouse set filled with props and crew, but Seung Hyun was nowhere to be seen, sighing sadly you checked your phone one last time, seeing nothing almost brought tears to your eyes, had he not meant what he said? Yea it had been a few months, but he did promise you..right?

As you started to film some of your solo scenes, you manager rushed over with a smile "Y/n! Y/n! Turn that frown around, baby! Your guy called, he's on his way, just stuck in traffic!" He cheered, you face immediately lit up, smiling excitedly and jumping up and down "Really!? Really!? He said he'd do it?" You gasped grabbing his arms "Yes! Yes! He did!" He smiled, he knew your situation, he had to hear about Choi Seung Hyun constantly, he tried to warn you it might not be the best for your image, but you quickly snapped at him going off about needing to get over things, your manager knew you since you were young, barely 17 whenever he signed you on, now you were nearing your thirties, your twenty eighth birthday approaching quickly, so seeing you this excited over a boy was something entirely different.

Unknown to you, Seung Hyun had ditched his taxi long ago, he was close enough to be able to make it running, traffic was picking up anyways. As he ran up onto your set he saw you standing off to the side, waiting while looking around occasionally "Seung Hyun!" You shouted seeing him, throwing your jacket down to sprint to him, as soon as you were close enough, Seung Hyun immediately lifted you into the air spinning you around in a hug, squeezing you tightly "Hey! Hey! Careful! Don't hurt her!" Your manager shouted in a panic "Don't worry about him, he just doesn't want anything messed up for my show" You giggled looking down to your friend, your heart racing feeling yourself being that close to him again. "So are you really gonna do the video with me?" You asked excited, Seung Hyun nervously smiled "Ya know..I don't know...I want to..but I don't want to ruin your image and stuff..." He mumbled, you frowned, you knew he was still ashamed of what happened and how badly everybody reacted, it hit him hard and it was always worried about how it'd effect the people around him "Seung Hyun! I don't care about that! You are my best friend! I want you to be the part so who cares!" You argued cupping his cheeks, Seung Hyun couldn't hide the blush on his cheeks feeling your hands being so intimate than you had ever been with him.

"I guess..If you're sure.." He mumbled "I'm so sure! If anybody has anything to say I'll give them a piece of my mind!" You huffed grabbing his hand marching towards set, he gave your manager a look raising his eyebrows, your manager just nodded mouthing the words 'every time'. Filming was something neither of you expected, as your manager and director worked together to get everything right, going through the lyrics it started to make you realize things a lot more clear. You loved Sueng Hyun, more than best friends. Seung Hyun felt panicky, having to be so intimate with you was getting him flustered and it was all going on camera, for you to see later and see.

After you filmed a scene of Seung Hyun following you through an empty street in town, he took a moment to stop and breath, lighting a cigarette to calm his nerves, but there you were, looking at him with that adorable puppy look. "Are you okay?.." You asked softly, going to rest your hand on his arm but he just shrugged away, he couldn't help it, your touch was making him feel hot, like it was burning him, and he was now becoming very conscious of his t-shirt and all of the hate he used to get before he closed it all out. "I-Im sorry I-I just-" You stopped him from speaking, noticing his shaky hands and the tears falling from his eyes as he slowly slid down the brick wall trying to keep his breathing calm, but the panic attack was already settling in. You immediately kneeled next to him, slowly taking the cigarette from his hand, not wanting to see him accidentally burn himself, as you tried to sit next to him he tried to lift you up to your feet "T-T-that ground i-is disgusting" He whimpered, your heart broke a little bit, he was more worried about you sitting down he didn't realize he was sitting down himself "It is..so why don't..we go over there..and sit on that bench?" You asked, taking his hand in yours, still holding his cigarette in the other, guiding him slowly to the bench as he tried to calm himself down, feeling like an idiot for getting like this around you, but like the sweetheart you were, you still took care of him, not even knowing the reason why he was freaking out.

"Seung Hyun..." You called sweetly, cupping his cheek with your free hand "Honey..take a deep breath for me, what's going on?" You asked, Seung Hyun followed your instructions, not realizing he was holding your wrist gently, caressing his thumb over it. "If I ask something...Will you be honest, Y/n?" He asked shakily, his leg bouncing as he looked around, taking the hint you took the cigarette placing it to his lips gently "I don't want you to drop it..but of course" You whispered, you weren't concerned that you were acting more like a wife or girlfriend than friend currently, you were more concerned with making sure Seung Hyun was okay. "Is this..about us?..is that why you wanted me to be here so badly?" He asked, inhaling before exhaling, lifting your head up gently as he blew the smoke to the side so he wasn't getting it in your face. "When I'm with you..things feel different..like..stronger with you..I'm happier, sadder, angrier, everything when it comes to you" You explained sheepishly, going to pull your hand away from his cheek, but he stopped you, instead moving your hand to his lap to interlace your fingers as you spoke, the same thing he did anytime you'd get teary eyed opening up to him during your guys's filming for squid games "I-I didn't understand it..until I saw you again, and I felt like I never wanted you to leave like that again" You whispered looking away from him "I-It was hard..really hard..and barely being able to speak to each other, made it harder.." You whimpered, biting your lip to keep yourself from crying.

"Are you sure we're not just..close friends?" He asked, not wanting you to jump into something you didn't want, you didn't take it as that, you took it as he only saw you as that, close friends. "Y-Yea you're..you're right" You sniffled, taking a deep breath putting on your best show face to hide the plain hurt on your face "Ready to finish up?" You asked, Seung Hyun frowned, knowing he upset you, he just silently followed behind.

Whenever you finished up filming, you rushed towards your small makeup trailer, just needing a moment, Seung Hyun was stuck off to the side, frustrated with himself "Seung Hyun, yes?" Your manager asked approaching him "U-uh yes yes that's me" He confirmed, your manager sighed "Listen, I don't mean to make things..awkward..between you two, but in the ten years I've known that girl, she's never talked about another man or woman like she has you, Mr. Choi, she's one of your biggest fighters, even before she got back from that tv show filming. Meeting you gave her the drive and motivation to work and write again, she's produced an entire album! In a month! So whatever happened earlier between you two..You better not ruin my girl, she's special, not another one like her, until you make a comeback" He explained before nodding over to the trailer "Fix it. Not my broken mess, not my problem to fix" He demanded, Seung felt offended by that, this man seemed to care about you, and yet here he was calling you a broken mess? "Y/n is far from a broken mess, she's single handedly the most independent strong hard headed woman I've ever met, not to mention the most thoughtful selfless and beautiful! Any guy would be lucky to manage her! Or even have her in their life!" He shouted, your manager just kept an eyebrow cocked at him as he shouted, never noticing you slowly making your way out of the trailer "So why don't you tell her that!? Instead of messing with her head for months!?" Your manager shouted back "Because I'm not good enough for her! And because of who I am I never will be!" He shouted back, trying to control himself and not storm off, every bit of anger washing away whenever he was met with your terrified gaze, even when filming while screaming in your face, you never looked scared of him, but in this moment, you looked truly terrified.

Tears brimmed your eyes, hearing what both men said was like a knife stabbing you to the heart, you stormed past, not wanting to see either of them in the moment, heading back to your tour bus. Your chest hurt, it felt heavy but like it was hot at the same time, as soon as you got the bunks of your bus you let yourself cry for the first time since Seung Hyun first left, never noticing the bus door shutting and closing.

"Jagi" Seung Hyun whispered sadly, kneeling next to you as he tried to get him to look at you "Honey, You are not a hot mess" He whispered, you just glared at him "How could you say that about yourself? I opened up about my worst mistake..and you still think you're not good enough?" You whimpered "Y-You're crying because of what..I said about myself?" He asked confused, tilting his head as you shoved him slightly "Yes! I care about you! And it makes me sad hearing you think that" You argued shoving him again "I love you, you asshole! And you're too blind to see you're perfect!" You added on before realizing what you were saying, Seung Hyun's face changed as you spoke, you just glared at him, trying your best to cry anymore but his words just echoed in your head forcing you to lose your battle 'because of who I am I will never be good enough'.

"Jagi, please don't cry" Seung Hyun begged, cupping your cheeks, desperately wanting to see your smile like before, he tried his best to keep his mind from spiraling "I just...I care about you a lot, and it hurts so bad hearing you talk about yourself like that, Seung Hyun, you are good enough for anything you want to be good enough at, because of who you are" You corrected his statement from earlier, now it was his turn to get teary eyed, trying to ignore and hide it he just hugged you tightly "I love you" He whispered as he rested his head against yours, if it weren't for the hairdo they had you do for the last scene you would've never felt his tears "As a friend?.." You asked pulling away to look at him, using your thumbs to wipe his eyes and cheeks gently "I don't..I don't know..but I want to" He whispered, cupping your cheeks before kissing you softly, you happily kissing him back, running your hands through his hair as he gently bit your bottom lip before pulling away "So..does this mean.." You whispered, looking up to him hopefully "Maybe so..I don't know" He smirked, quoting part of the chorus of your song, you giggled blushing hiding your face in his chest.

Part three my lovelies?

#t.o.p x reader #thanos x reader #choi seunghyun #choi su bong x reader #squid game thanos #top x reader #squid game #squidgame #thanos squid game #thanos x reader smut #choi seung hyun x reader

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fatliberation · 4 months ago

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Sorry for leaving this in your inbox, but I need to vent and ask for advice in a place where people won't mock me. What do you do when sex is super difficult because of your fat? I've recently gotten into my first relationship and. I thought I had a handle on my internalized fatphobia and self hate but this has made it worse than ever. We can't have satisfying penetrative sex (we've tried all the tips and workarounds. Nothing works. I'm larger than most of the FA community.), and recieving oral sex is also difficult for me. I also get tired and sweaty extremely quickly if I have to like hold up myself on mostly my arms or something, so he has to do most of the work. So sex is just. Mostly the one that works on repeat, and we don't have it very often because it isn't that fun for either of us, and it also makes me cry afterwards sometimes because of how disappointing it is & me beating myself up over it.

I'm genuinely worried my boyfriend is going to leave me for this. He's clearly very frustrated with the situation, even though he tries to be nice about it most of the time. Earlier today I tried to like be flirty and hint at stuff and he just. got a bit sad. and then said that clearly neither of us enjoy the sex we're having and that he has a lot of trouble staying hard.and that he doesn't see the point when we're both forcing it for no reason. I think he's going to break up with me soon. His ex is way lighter than me, so he's probably comparing the normal sex he had with her with whatever the fuck this abnormal shitshow is :/

All the work I've done on myself to be happy with being fat (including working up the courage to date, what a mistake that was lmao) is all gone. This has ruined my self-esteem so much. I feel like one of those fatphobic jokes but a person.

first and foremost, please try your best to remember this: your body is not the problem. one more time. your body is not the problem. I'm so very sorry you're concerned that your boyfriend would leave you over this. it sounds like he has a lot of preconceived ideas about how sex is supposed to go. I promise you that it doesn't have to be this way. if this is something that could really end the relationship, know that this person is not compatible or open to exploring your needs, rather than your needs being "too difficult." I promise it's him, not you. I know folks who are 600+ pounds who have excellent sex lives and partners who satisfy them and enjoy satisfying them. when someone starts treating your pleasure like a chore, that's just shitty. I know how much it hurts. it also does damage to your own openness to pleasure. when you're caught up in feeling like sex/your body is something that needs to be "fixed," nothing is going to feel sexy, because all that pressure puts stress on and takes you out of the mental state where you're able to experience pleasure. does that make sense? so many couples get stuck in this cycle.

there are so many ways to engage in pleasure without penetration or orgasm. there's a lot that goes into foreplay, setting a mood, making your partner feel appreciated and attractive. words and touch play a huge part in this. something as simple as exploring each other's bodies, not with the intention of reaching climax, but simply to be vulnerable and engage each others' senses. have your partner give you a massage. play with your hair. tickle your back with a feather. shower together. kiss you. compliment you. if either of you are into any kinks or dirty talk, that could be a great way to engage each other sexually without the pressure of "achieving" a goal. the goal here is just to feel good, close, and connected. societal messaging about sex has placed so much importance on orgasm instead of pleasure - when taking the time and space to relax and receive attention, is key.

feel free to check out my other posts on fat sex ed, there's lots of assistive toys that can make pleasure more accessible, but I think that should be a tool for later, since the biggest issue here is the pressure to perform. know that pleasurable sex can exist for you! but for now, I would recommend taking a break from sex altogether since it is not pleasurable for you right now. because pleasure is the whole point. forcing it is only going to feel worse. you do not owe it to your boyfriend, especially if it doesn't feel good and is taking an emotional toll. I hope you both are able to take a step back, reassess and communicate, and are able to reconnect and create a safe space to explore.

I understand why you're beating yourself up over this, I've been there too. but also know that it's just another societal standard that's been internalized (and it doesn't sound like your boyfriend is helping). like you said, you've done a lot to unlearn fatphobia. there's a lot of internalized beliefs we absorb from society surrounding sex, just like body image. I promise that there is nothing wrong with you. If your boyfriend takes his frustration out on you instead of making you feel safe to express your needs, then he's not a supportive partner. you deserve someone who takes delight in your pleasure and your body. believe me, we're out there.

#fat pleasure is fat liberation #fat sex ed #fat sexuality #fat liberation #inbox

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neptuneiris · 1 year ago

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Behind the Scenes (01/05)

Behind the Reencounter

pairing: actor!aemond × fem!reader

summary: Due to your work as a make-up artist and wardrobe assistant, you meet Aemond, a very successful young actor with whom you work and all professional relationship breaks down and a secret relationship arises, until you get pregnant and decide to run away from him so as not to ruin his successful and promising career. After almost two years, you and he unexpectedly meet again.

word counter: 7.6k

series masterlist • next part

hello! i'm back with another mini series! yay!

god, i'm so excited about this, it's nothing like what i've written before but the excitement and inspiration got the better of me.

also i must say that i had seen stories with this plot about daddy aemond and i wanted to make my own, adding angst, which i know you like and a story that i came up with that i really hope you like a lot:)

without more to say, enjoy beautiful people, I look forward to your comments, don't leave me without knowing what you think please!

warnings: angst, language, sexual content, smut

Your state of nervousness and anticipation is not much of help when it comes to the first day of your new job.

The film studio is a world of constant activity and you know that just on your first day it's going to be hectic. At least in your area which is Wardrobe and Makeup, it's a completely active area and you have to be available almost all the time.

You let out a long breath and before you leave, you stop in the studio's small nursery where your son, Aenar, barely a year old, spends his day while you work on set.

You can't help but watch him with adoration, a certain sadness and longing, for nothing would make you happier than to stay here with him, but you know you can't afford it.

These last few months have been hard, your income has been complicated and you need the money from this new job to be able to survive and make sure nothing is missing for him, your little boy.

Aenar crawls on the floor, exploring the world around him, while the woman in charge keeps her distance from you and him, taking care of other children. And when his big, curious blue eyes look up at you, he lets out a giggle of joy and stretches out his arms to you.

You bend down with him and take him in your arms tenderly and adoringly.

"You don't want me to leave, do you?" you murmur fondly as you leave a kiss on his cheek.

He babbles excitedly, unable to formulate coherent words, but his smile completely lights up your insides and you respond with giggles and smiles.

You take advantage of the little time you have before work to play and laugh with him for a moment. But eventually your time to leave arrives.

You leave a kiss on his forehead and with a sigh of defeat, you say goodbye.

"Mommy has to go but she'll be back soon, okay, my little dragon?"

His little hands explore for a second all over your face, making you laugh and you leave a couple more kisses on both of his chubby cheeks, loving to hear his laughter and loving to see the huge smile he places on his pink lips.

"I love you, sweetheart."

You leave one more kiss on his forehead and make sure one last time to cover his head well with his cap, taking advantage of the fact that it's November and Winter has arrived to hide his straight hair.

You distract him with all the colorful toys that are distributed on the floor for all the children and take the opportunity to leave, otherwise he will cry if he sees you leaving. You exchange a look of understanding with the woman in charge and finally head back to your workplace.

The trailer door opens with a soft creak as you enter, feeling the mixture of excitement and nervousness run down your spine. You had been looking forward to this moment with anticipation, but also apprehension.

For you knew that your past would come back to haunt you.

But you know you need to be here.

The first thing you see are the lighted mirrors with their respective chairs and vanities in front of them, where makeup and wardrobe experts hurry to prepare the actors for the day's filming.

A scent of pressed powder and beauty products fills the air, creating a familiar atmosphere. And when you barely have time to absorb the scene, a brown-haired girl approaches you with an enthusiastic, warm smile.

"Hi! Y/N, right? The new makeup artist."

She points at you with her index finger and a thoughtful look, without wiping away her smile.

"Hi, yes, it's me," you nod to her, as you return the small smile.

"Perfect! I'm Jess, the wardrobe assistant," she extends her hand to you in a friendly gesture, "Nice to meet you and welcome!"

You can't help but be relieved by the friendly reception, then shake your hand with hers.

"Nice to meet you too, Jess. Thank you for having me."

"Oh we're so excited to have you here, I've been looking forward to your arrival," she confides, "Let me show you where you can drop your stuff off and then I'll give you directions, okay?"

Again you nod, grateful for the kindness of Jess, who leads you toward a row of lockers where you can store your things, then gives you directions.

"First, let's go over the schedule for the day," she tells you, opening a folder with the itinerary for the shoot. "We have this first scene where we need to make sure every detail is perfect. And you'll be in charge of the wardrobe for the main characters today."

She indicates without losing the kindness in her tone and you nod, understanding.

"So, take the wardrobe list for each actor and check that we have everything in order."

He hands you a detailed list, making sure that you with your new addition are aware of every detail.

"After that, we'll move on to makeup," she instructs you, "Sam, our talented makeup artist, will give you a brief orientation on the look we're going for. Don't worry, she's amazing and will guide you through the whole process."

Jess grabs a pair of robes and hands them to you.

"Now, let's get to work on the wardrobe. When you've gone through everything, head over to the makeup area, okay?"

Again you nod, understanding the directions perfectly and dive into your tasks with enthusiasm, getting off to a very good start and feeling completely comfortable.

Besides, this is nothing you haven't done before, as way back when you used to work for the BBC television network right here in King's Landing as well, this was your job, so there's nothing new or complicated for you.

When Jess, frantically going through her checklist, looks up at you.

"Oh, Y/N, we need more pins for costume fixes. Could you go to the prop depot and get a package, please? I'd really appreciate it."

You nod with a small smile.

"Sure, I'll be right back."

With a determined pace, you step out of the trailer and head to the depot which isn't far away and start looking for the package, which you didn't think would take you some time since there are so many packages of different things mixed up.

You search through many huge boxes, until you finally find the package of pins and let out a relieved sigh.

You leave the huge room and close the door behind you, walking back. And as you walk, as you pay attention to your surroundings, you feel a mixture of nostalgia and nervousness, as these hallways, permeated with the buzz of film activity, take you back to memories you've been trying to bury.

You let out a long breath, not wanting to think about it now, and concentrate on your work.

As you enter back into the trailer, everything is immersed in a constant murmur of conversations and the activity of preparations, at the same time as the trailer door closes with a soft click behind you.

You are about to enter the area where the tables and chairs and mirrors and everyone else are when you hear a somewhat familiar voice in a distant echo in the middle of it all, completely stopping your footsteps.

"…they said at the training scene I wasn't supposed to look any different in particular."

You frown, thinking that maybe you're mishearing and are mistaking that voice for someone else's.

But still you advance just three steps, sharpening your hearing with a wary face, waiting, wanting to make sure.

"And which one of these for that scene?" you hear one of the girls in charge of wardrobe.

You wait for the answer from that attentive and completely cautious voice, thinking that it must probably be a figment of your mind that wants you to believe things that aren't.

"I think the brown one," you hear that voice say back to the girl.

Your heart stops completely in that instant.

No.

It can't be.

You think completely incredulous and terrified.

You stand completely paralyzed and with a face of total shock as the sound of that voice continues to echo softly throughout the interior of the trailer, flowing conversation between him and the makeup artist.

The pulse in your throat beats with a mixture of surprise and anxiety, suddenly losing strength in your body, so you lean against one of the walls as you feel an emotional vertigo begin to emerge.

All those buried memories, suddenly resurface, as it is no imagination of yours and you know it is him because his voice has not changed and you could recognize it anywhere.

It is him.

He is here.

You close your eyes for a moment, trying to regain control of your emotions, but you can't, and you can't believe this is happening right now, on your first day of work.

Completely cautious, you slowly peek out, wanting to be even more sure and wanting to see that it's all just your mind making it up.

But as soon as you catch a glimpse of that signature flash of platinum hair, your heart rate begins to race faster than normal.

And there he is, with his hair pulled back in a small low bun as he discusses the details of the scene with the makeup artist, a scene that resonated with similarities to moments you and he shared in the pass.

Disbelief completely invades your eyes and your entire face as you watch him, surprised to see him after exactly one year since that day. You notice every gesture and every feature that is still etched in detail in your mind.

He, oblivious to your presence, continues the conversation, but something in your expression begins to tremble.

You go back in time to the spark you both shared in the corridors of that studio, the looks of complicity, the many nights you shared together and the whispers in the dim light of the dressing rooms.

But you also remember that day, when you saw him completely frustrated but willing to be there for you, where his manager and his entire team talked to him about the consequences and you also remember everything he promised you, on hidden, which is why you decided to run away when you were only three weeks pregnant with him.

A lump forms in your throat and standing there, watching him, after so long, tears begin to invade your eyes.

But Jess announces your presence as she emerges from the back where the dressing rooms are, watching you at the entrance completely static and with a look she can't instantly identify.

"Y/N! There you are! Did you get the pins?"

And that's when it happens.

Saying your name loud enough for everyone inside the trailer to hear, it catches his attention, who confused and attentive watches where Jess is heading and that's when the gazes meet.

And in that instant, a spark of recognition crosses the face of Aemond, Aemond Targaryen, the man you decided to run away from so as not to ruin his career and the father of your child.

His healthy eye opens wide and surprise and disbelief overcome him as he sees you, right there, less than five meters away from him, the woman who carried his child with her and whom he sought so much after she disappeared completely from his life.

Silent, with the urgency of tears threatening to overflow, you step back, watching him cautiously and fearfully, at the same time beginning to tremble all over.

"Y/N," he utters your name with a tone of surprise and longing, as if he can't believe it, beginning to slowly rise from the chair.

You recoil further, as all the sadness, pain and anguish wash over you as you remember the past and think at the same time of your son, your sweet little boy.

However, your first instinct is to run away. Again.

Without a word and without looking back, you turn around and exit the trailer quickly before you could no longer hold back and tears involuntarily flow from your eyes, taking with you the image of Aemond and the echoes of a past you cannot escape and forget.

You don't care about your job, you don't care that you left everything just like that, you only think about running away and going quickly for your son, crying and completely terrified.

Aemond watches you walk away, unable to move and unable to speak, with a look of deep disbelief, surprise, bewilderment, regret and remorse while the people around him do not understand anything.

He knows that he made many mistakes in the past and he knows that you have a right to feel upset and hurt. But he also knows that you also made mistakes and you recognize that too.

But for now, you run away and he stands still, losing strength, where you both barely process what just happened and at the same time travel to the past, where it all started and where it all ended.

ALMOST 2 YEARS AGO.

At just twenty-one years old, you barely graduated from college and landed a great job opportunity with the BBC television network to work as a professional makeup artist and wardrobe assistant.

And now at the age of twenty-two and having been working for the network for two years, your life couldn't be better.

You have the job of your dreams, you have achieved so much despite the fact that your parents had no faith in you for choosing to study something that didn't guarantee you a future, and now your income is enough to allow you to live an independent life where you lack nothing.

When then, a new project comes up, a new TV series where you participate full time and where you are passionate about what you do.

That's when you meet him, one of the main actors of the show, Aemond Targaryen, a young, successful twenty-four year old actor who has already attracted the attention of the show business in his early days with a very promising future.

But it was not only for his incredible talent, he was also recognized and attracted a lot of attention for his unusual appearance, beautiful bright blue eye and a peculiar long platinum hair.

In his interviews he explains the origin of the genetic descriptions of him and his family, which is what causes a lot of doubt in every interviewer and also in his fans, wanting to know his origin.

That's why when they tell you that you will be assisting him in his makeup and wardrobe, you can't help but feel nervous but also a little excited to work with him.

And when the day finally arrives, Aemond Targaryen is actually quite a nice and accessible man to work with.

In the first few weeks of working and shooting the show, your interaction with him was completely professional.

You take it upon yourself to bring out the best in his image for the screen, where he does his part, always being friendly, willing and cooperative with you to follow directions and achieve the perfect look.

Always both of you at the beginning had normal and casual conversations to start forming trust, where everything becomes routine.

And it's not until he would say anything silly to make you laugh and where you both got to the point where you allowed yourselves to talk completely freely without being judged.

The shared laughs and casual comments created a comfortable and relaxed atmosphere, where the relationship started to become more friendly and slowly stopped being so strictly professional.

And when you least expected it, you looked forward to working with him, doing his makeup and wardrobe, enjoying his company.

Even when he would arrive first at the trailer to get ready, he would look forward to your arrival.

And when you arrived, you couldn't help but smile a little shyly in his direction because of his intense gaze on you through the mirror, making you feel a little nervous.

As you carefully applied his makeup, Aemond couldn't help but notice that attention you paid to every detail on him, having you so close to his face, being a moment he also longed for it to come.

And as the days passed, accidental brushes and gestures that went beyond professionalism began to emerge.

During makeup sessions, the glances became more intense and prolonged, as if you were looking for something beyond the superficial appearance, where you noticed how he was looking at you beyond the professional surface.

But it wasn't something that bothered you, on the contrary, it made you feel inexplicable sensations that at the same time pleased you, knowing perfectly well that he wasn't like that with anyone else in your area, only with you.

And you both also made sure to act that way only when it was just the two of you or to do it subtly when you were around other people.

But you also knew the dangerous game you were both playing.

However, it was too late, you really started to like him too much even though you knew that the idea of him and you could not be possible.

In the film industry, relationships between colleagues are technically not allowed or frowned upon. Rumors and speculation about romances can alter fan perceptions and, in some cases, affect job opportunities.

In addition, you both have studio contracts and other projects in progress. And acting in such a way, where the intention of both is more than clear, can affect casting decisions and the perceptions of directors and producers.

And for Aemond, being an up-and-coming young actor with a solid fan base, the revelation of an affair can bring negative criticism to his public image.

His manager and team have told him that maintaining the coveted bachelor image may be convenient and commercially advantageous for him in his projects to attract audiences, as he is attractive and very talented.

Even though he had an accident as a child where he lost his left eye and now wears a prosthesis, that attracts more attention from people and they want to know more about him, causing him to be more relevant.

But all this mattered little to Aemond as he shared more moments with you.

As the relationship became more enjoyable, his feelings and emotions became more and more evident and so did yours, starting to overcome the barrier imposed by the entertainment industry.

And one day that line of professionalism that both were trying to maintain but was becoming increasingly difficult, finally broke down completely.

On a filming afternoon, you and Aemond meet in the wardrobe area, where you make sure he looks perfect in his required clothes for the day and he stands completely still, cooperating and watching you at all times.

The conversation between the two of you flows naturally, as it has so many times before, but this time, something in the air seems different, like a gentle tension.

"After we finish this final scene, we should go celebrate, don't you think?"

He suggests with a soft little smile, but his eye reflects an intensity and that desire he can't hide when he's with you.

"Sure," you say with a willing little smile, still securing his clothes, "With John, Rose and Lana?" you mention your partners.

"No," he murmurs, shaking his head softly, "Just you and me."

You look directly into his eye with a slightly surprised and bewildered look, not expecting to hear that, beginning to feel nervous at his words and also at the proximity of the two of you.

"But…" you look at him a little incredulously and with a small sad and disappointed smile, "We can't."

"Yes we can," he tells you softly, "We just have to be very careful and not tell anyone."

You watch him with a small spark of amusement on your face, smiling softly in his direction, not believing he's serious.

And it is at that moment that the looks on both of your faces makes it clear that the connection you both share is deeper than you both believed and where Aemond, more than anything else, makes his true intentions clear and wants to put them into practice, after so long.

A complicit silence surrounds the two and it is as if time stands still for an instant.

Aemond, with a soft expression, unable to contain himself any longer, gently takes your face in his hands and you let him, because you want him, even though you shouldn't.

"There's something I've wanted to do for a long time," he confesses, his voice laden with sincerity.

You, intrigued and captivated by the intensity in his eye, his beautiful blue eye and the closeness of the bodies, look at him with attention and desire.

"What is it?" you murmur, almost in a whisper.

And without another word, Aemond leans toward you and closes the distance between you, bringing his lips together with yours in a needy but slow and deep kiss that you reciprocate instantly.

It all happens in an instant of surprise, followed by a sweet surrender to the attraction that had grown between the two of you.

Time comes to a complete stop as you both sink into that first kiss, where Aemond's hands gently grip your waist and you respond with the same intensity by locking your arms around his neck and clinging to his lips.

You don't want him to stop, you don't want any of this to end.

Everything feels perfect and just as you imagined in your fantasy mind of wanting to live this moment.

And the moment doesn't end, as he pulls you further into the dressing room while still kissing you, leaning you against a vanity and pressing your body completely against his, making you gasp and respond to his needy kiss in kind.

Unfortunately, the kiss doesn't last as long as you would have liked, as a voice screams throughout the trailer.

"Next scene in five minutes! Everyone to the set, please!"

You and Aemond part abruptly, with surprised and terrified looks on your faces, instantly keeping your distance and pretending nothing has happened.

You head along with him toward the set, trying to hide any trace of the intimacy you both shared moments ago. And as you immerse yourself in the frenetic pace of the shoot, the complicity between the two of you manifests itself in small gestures and stolen glances.

And that's when the little relationship secretly begins.

Keeping the relationship a secret became a balancing act for both of you. As the connection you and he shared intensified, the need to hide the relationship became more and more crucial.

In the trailer and on set when you were around more people, as he did you had to learn to act as naturally as ever, carefully concealing any trace of intimacy.

Encounters became completely secret, kisses and caresses behind dressing rooms or in the trailer when you were alone, always alert to the possibility of being discovered. Even in the dressing room, it became a meeting place, where they could enjoy a moment alone.

You could also talk freely by call or text, but both he and you preferred to see each other in person.

That's why on days off, which were few, Aemond always took you to more private places. One night, for example, he took you to dinner at a small restaurant outside of town.

If it wasn't a restaurant, it was to invite you to a small coffeeshop and more discreet places, out of the reach of prying eyes, where he still had to go covered by his characteristic hair.

And when neither of them had the spirit to be always alert, you went to his apartment or he to yours, where they could act with total freedom and even go further.

In Aemond you found a friend, an accomplice and practically the perfect man for you, not because of what he possesses and who he is out there for everyone to see, but because of who he really is, inside.

You simply couldn't help but fall deeply in love with him and that fortunately he reciprocated as strongly as you did, wanting you and only you.

And although the fear of discovery added a touch of dangerous excitement to the relationship, the weight of keeping it all a secret was beginning to generate emotional conflict.

The strain of keeping up appearances and the constant need for vigilance began to wear on you. And as the relationship progresses, you can't help but wonder if there will ever be a chance to be free with Aemond.

But you both know it's not possible.

Much less will it be when one day, Aemond lets you know the news.

"I need to talk to you about something," he says in a serious and defeated tone, taking your hands in his.

He has come unexpectedly to your apartment and that seemed strange to you, but now that he is telling you this and behaving like this, you know it is for a reason and it is not a good one.

"Is everything okay?" you ask him intently and with your brow furrowed.

He sighs before answering, looking sad.

"Production and my manager are pressuring me to fake a relationship with my co-star in a promotional campaign. They say it will help generate more interest in the show."

And there are the consequences of having this relationship on the quiet with him.

Aemond's face contorts in anguish as he sees the expression on your face of mild surprise and definitely not expecting to hear that.

"I promise you that I refused and did everything in my power not to do this Y/N, but I didn't accomplish nothing and…. I-It shouldn't take more than three months, I swear."

He explains, but the sharp pain in your chest is already there and remains, as you begin to imagine what this is all going to be like.

You press your lips together in a thin line and not knowing what to say or what exactly to do, you let out a long breath and watch your hands with his, processing what he is telling you and what he will have to do next.

Even though you understand the demands of the industry and everything about marketing, still the idea of Aemond faking a relationship with someone else makes you feel weird and uncomfortable.

But what can you really do? Nothing.

This is his job and you're not going to get upset with him when you know it's not his fault and that this is what he does in order to make a living.

"When?" you ask him watching him with your soft gaze but with a slightly sad expression.

He lets out a sigh.

"I don't know, I just know that they are already setting everything up," he tells you frustrated with his low and serious voice, "But I need you to be okay with this, Y/N," he looks at you worried, "I know it will be hard for both of us but I don't want this to affect us when you know the truth behind everything and why I do it."

You watch him for a few seconds without saying anything, as you feel a lump in your throat and also feel the helplessness he conveys for all of this, as he really doesn't want to do this.

But he must meet the professional expectations of the production company and you have no choice but to support him.

"Well," you say softly, trying to hide your hurt look by forcing a small smile to reassure him, "These are the production company's decisions and you must do it. And you don't need to worry about me, you know I'll support you."

He takes his gaze away from yours for a second, letting out a longer sigh than before, then takes your face gently in his hands.

"Of course I worried about you, sweetheart," he murmurs with tiredness, then draws you into a tight, tender embrace.

He leaves a gentle kiss on your head and even though he is relieved that you understood, he still feels remorse and anguish because if he were you, of course he would disagree and it would hurt quite a bit.

But this is work and he really doesn't have much choice.

And when you least expect it, the moment arrives.

The next few weeks are a complete whirlwind of emotions for you as you watch the fictional relationship of Aemond and his co-star, the famously gorgeous actress Cerelle Lannister, prepare to come to light.

Joint promotions take them both to photo shoots and interviews where they must show complicity and affection. And seeing Aemond sharing moments that used to be just yours and his, now in the public sphere with someone other than you, becomes a painful test.

One evening, you see photos of Aemond and Cerelle having dinner at a famous restaurant downtown and all the photos show the complicit smiles and affectionate gestures.

And even though you know it's part of the act, you can't help but feel a knot in your stomach seeing them together. And even worse, seeing how the public is fascinated and in love with their relationship.

It is for all this that you no longer see him frequently and there is only communication by messages.

And when he finally has a space in his schedule, he takes the opportunity to see you, where you at all times try to look as if you are not affected by all this, so as not to worry him and frustrate him when you know he has a lot of weight on his shoulders.

He still apologizes and tries to make it up to you, but in the midst of your soothing words, the pain is reflected in your gaze.

And that's what you do for the next few weeks, you continue to support him from the shadows while he and Cerelle put on a show and are the center of attention.

At first you had told yourself not to see anything about them on the internet, but you can't help it and you see the pictures, read the headlines in the magazines and with each new performance, you feel a slight sharp pain in your heart.

When the day of a big awards event arrives where directors, producers, script writers, the academy members, the press and of course the actors and actresses attend, where precisely Aemond and Cerelle attend together as a couple officially in front of all public eye.

Images and videos of the two sharing laughter and affectionate gestures spread through every social network, while you, from your apartment, watch the scene with a mixture of pride as this is important in Aemond's career but also feel a deep sadness that threatens to overflow.

You wish it was you instead of her.

It's been months since you and Aemond started this relationship behind everyone's back and you want that, to be able to touch him and be with him in public.

But you can't.

And you can't stand this anymore either.

You decide to watch movies and change the channel, not wanting to focus on them anymore, trying to ignore your emotions and your wounded heart, not wanting to do anything else tonight but just forget and stay in the comfort of your bed.

After two hours, your phone starts ringing, indicating an incoming call and when you look at the screen, Aemond's name appears, but you decide not to answer.

You don't feel like talking to him, you don't want to get upset with him when he is not to blame for anything and start an unnecessary fight, so you prefer not to talk.

But after that call, Aemond insistent calls you a couple more times, in which you decide not to answer as well.

At your lack of response, he can't help but feel worried, thinking that you must be feeling bad because of him even though you understand why he's doing all this. And once the rewards are over, he in covered takes his car and drives to your apartment.

As he drives, his mind is filled with thoughts of how to talk to you and find the right words to ease the tension in both of you. But the nervousness doesn't let him think clearly nor has he forgotten the overwhelming awards he had to attend to.

Once he arrives at your door, he just hopes you're okay, even though he knows you're not and knocks three times.

"Y/N? It's Aemond," he says cautiously and hopeful that you will open the door, wanting to speak and see you.

The silence lingers for a few moments before you finally open the door, where the slight surprise of seeing him here at this hour is reflected in your gaze, not understanding anything. And he just sighs, feeling guilty.

"You didn't respond to my calls or messages and I got worried," he explains to you briefly and in a soft voice, "I needed to see you."

Despite all the emotions you're feeling, the fact that he's come looking for you shows you that he really cares about you and wants to do everything he can to make you okay.

You watch him silently for a moment and nod slowly in his direction with a look of understanding.

"I'm fine," you reply softly, wanting to convince him as well as yourself.

"No, I know you're not," he insists, concerned, "I-I… I know this is all very difficult and I don't want you to feel pressured, but…" he lets out a frustrated sigh, "I'm here to talk if you need to."

Appreciating his sincerity silently and seeing how terribly worried he is, you let him in.

The two of you have a difficult but necessary conversation, where neither of you have any intention of ending this thing you have together and where he's willing to show you that he doesn't care about Cerelle, just you.

"I only want you, baby. You and no one else," he murmurs lovingly and with desire in his gaze, closing his eye and catching your lips in a needy, deep kiss.

You respond in kind, gasping into his lips and bringing your hands to stroke his hair, clinging to him completely as he brings his hands to your waist and ass, squeezing the soft skin of both your ass cheeks.

"Do you mean it?" you ask in the middle of the kiss, beginning to feel the wetness between your legs.

"Yes, I fucking mean it," he replies against your lips, biting and sucking on your lips again.

You moan as he begins to leave a trail of kisses all over your neck, biting and leaving little marks on your sensitive skin, making you shiver all over your body and begin to feel the hardness in his pants against your pelvis.

Absentmindedly he brings one of his hands up and caresses one of your breasts over your shirt, making you moan and continue kissing him as he brings his hands back down to your thighs.

"Oh, Aemond," you whine.

"Fuck," he murmurs in delight, making you wrap your legs around his torso and feel directly on your needy clit, his cock hard and in need of release, "Such a needy little thing, arent you?"

His mouth roams and kisses every exposed part of your skin, as he pulls you along with him towards your couch, making you sit on top of him and you desperately begin to seek relief as you cause friction between your bodies.

He groans into your mouth, feeling his cock throb and ache.

"Can I take this off?" he grabs the edge of your shirt and you nod desperately, needy.

You are not wearing a bra and when your breasts are out in the open, Aemond lets out a curse as he stares at your breasts fully aroused to take one of your nipples into his mouth, making you arch and bring his face closer to your breasts.

Not long after that he too takes off his shirt and you free his cock from its confines and then start riding him, unable to wait a moment longer.

"Shit," he hisses, "You feel so good, baby. So fucking good."

You moan loudly as he brings one of his hands to your already swollen clit and starts massaging it with two fingers, making you moan and making you move your hips with more fervor on top of him, as your skin slaps and rattles with his beneath you.

That night, not only does he fuck you on your couch, he fucks you on your bed too, not being able to get enough of you, loving to see your whole face contorted in pleasure as he fucks you against your bed hard, his cock continually thrusting in and out of you, the sound of skin against skin being heard.

You bite down on his shoulder and wrap your legs around his torso again, feeling him deeper, as Aemond kisses you and draws his eyebrows together in concentration and pleasure.

"Are you going to let me fill this pretty pussy with my cum again, baby? I want to feel you fucking cum all over my cock."

He brings his hand to your clit again and begins to massage it furiously, wanting to watch you crumble and feel you do it around his cock, while you moan and bite his shoulder and neck.

"Oh y-yes, Ae-mond,"you moan.

You close your eyes, escape a quiet moan, arch your back fully and feel the whole wave of euphoria wash over your entire body, seeing stars behind your eyes.

And with one last hard thrust, Aemond cums inside you letting out a grunt and hiding his whole face in the curve of your neck, leaving a couple of wet kisses once you both come back to earth and melt into each other's arms.

A few weeks later, you're back at work and Aemond starts filming a new movie for Netflix, so you don't see each other as often as you used to.

Aemond's schedule is very tight and he still does everything he can to be able to see you and spend time with you, while you in comparison to him have more free time but can't spend it with him because of his work.

And it is in that same time that you start to feel strange, but you hadn't connected the dots until the signs became too obvious to ignore.

One day, while working on set, fatigue suddenly overwhelmed you and a persistent nausea made you realize that something was going on. Suddenly lack of appetite appeared and seeing things too sweet or chicken or meat meals made you sick to your stomach.

Or also weird cravings started, which your mind started to scare you with possibly confirming what you were thinking.

During a break in the filming, you discreetly retreat to the bathroom, feeling the need for a moment to yourself. And as you look in the mirror, you notice the pallor on your face and the different glow in your eyes.

Completely terrified, you wait for your break from work and rush to the pharmacy, buying three pregnancy tests of different brands and supposedly the best.

And once at home, everything is silent, as the seconds tick by and you feel like you are drowning in your own thoughts.

You're not ready to be a mom, in fact the thought of having children was never something you wanted or wanted in the long run, because you're still young, you have your dream job at only twenty-two years old and to stop focusing on your dreams and goals to focus on those of a child… it's not something you want.

But the pregnancy test you hold in your trembling hand confirms your suspicions, as do the other tests, all positive.

Fear totally grips you, not only because of the fact that you are pregnant, but because of the implications this brings to your life and also to Aemond's life.

God, Aemond.

You think completely terrified, starting to cry, feeling the pressure in your chest.

You know this will stop and totally ruin his career.

You imagine yourself facing the critical gaze of the media, the headlines of magazines and news websites, as well as the constant speculation about your personal life.

You feel completely scared and hopeless, having no idea what Aemond's reaction will be, but you know this is not good, a baby, right now is not good, not for you and certainly not for him.

But you must tell him. You know you must. Regardless, how could you keep something like this from him?

It takes you two days to finally get up the courage to tell him and as you wait for him in your apartment, the pregnancy test rests in your trembling, sweaty hands, feeling completely frightened amidst all the silence around you.

Your eyes burn from crying so much, you feel like you have no strength, you feel weak and you haven't been able to sleep well and you don't even want to imagine how you will be later when Aemond finds out and everything between you will probably go wrong.

The sound of the door makes you jump nervously, knowing it's him.

You feel more fear and uncertainty flood you but you force yourself to get up from your couch and head to open the door, feeling that you will burst into tears at any moment.

As you open it, Aemond's handsome face and his usual smile was nothing like your face, being quite the opposite, so noticing your state his smile drops and he looks at you completely distressed and worried as you let out a few tears silently.

"Hey, hey," Aemond holds your face in his hands, his thumbs gently caressing your cheeks. His concern is palpable in the way his eyes search yours for answers. "What happened, baby? Are you okay?"

You sniffle your nose, inhale deeply and keep your eyes closed for a moment, only causing Aemond more unease when you don't utter a word.

"Y/N, what happened?" he insists, his tone laden with anxiety and seriousness.

"I'm really sorry," you murmur sadly to him, feeling each word weigh heavy in your chest and a sense of hopelessness creep over you.

"You're sorry, for what? What happened?" he asks again, completely confused and uncomprehending.

"I'm… I-I'm pregnant," you mumble in a broken voice, as if uttering those words would make reality more concrete.

Aemond's face remains completely static, his eyes wide open, watching you as tears slide down your cheeks. The gravity of the news is reflected in the tense silence that appears between the two of you.

"What?" he mutters under his breath, barely audible but laden with disbelief.

You nod slowly, reaching out to him for the proof you hold in your trembling hand. And every second that passes as he analyzes it feels like an eternity as you wait for his reaction.

But he barely processes the information, takes the evidence between his fingers and the seconds stretch out like hours as you feel your heart beating too fast.

But Aemond's face shows neither anger nor joy.

And finally he reacts by bringing his hands to his hair, his eye fixed on the evidence for a moment and then looking at a spot in your living room, beginning to see frustration and surprise invade him more.

He lets out a sigh and turns his gaze back to you in a desperate manner.

"Hey, baby," he says to you now nervously, "Are you absolutely sure?"

You nod slowly.

"I did three tests, all three came back positive."

He brings a hand to his forehead, averting his gaze from yours for a moment. His eyes reflect tumultuous thoughts, a mixture of thoughts ranging from disbelief to concern.

"But how?" he watches you blankly, still with surprise painted in his gaze.

"You didn't use a condom and I took the pill, but it didn't work," you tell him in a hopeless voice, trying to explain the inexplicable.

"Oh, fuck," he murmurs, biting his lips and bringing a hand to his chin.

"I'm sorry, I really am. I didn't mean for this to happen either," you admit to him, your tears streaming down your cheeks.

You feel the need to apologize as if this burden is something only you should carry, the vulnerability clear in your tone of voice and on your face, which worries Aemond more at seeing you in such a state.

"Hey, no, don't, don't do that, don't apologize," he says instantly, turning back to you and placing a hand on your cheek, "We're both part of this, you understand me? You're not to blame for anything and I'm not going to leave you alone," he assures you, completely honest and determined with his words.

And despite the gravity of the situation, you feel a huge relief come over you knowing that you are not alone in this, as he looks at your sad face, with your dry tears and red eyes.

And then he places a soft kiss on your lips and encloses you in a comforting embrace that is all you need at that moment.

You knew that Aemond would eventually have to tell his manager and his team as well, however, you didn't expect him to do it on the same day you let him know the news and you didn't expect all his people to start working so soon on this, on your pregnancy.

You call his agent and in an instant he, along with his publicist and his team of public relations people, invade your apartment.

And his agent, Criston Cole, doesn't have time to start reproaching him for having had a secret relationship with you all this time, although the anger is there but the important thing is the baby on the way, where he can't do anything either because it's already in your womb.

So he only talks about solutions.

And it is precisely because of these painful solutions for you that you decided to run away and disappear from his life to save his career and also your child.

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