#just a touch of misogyny but not for long | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

solbaby7 · 5 months ago

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En Cognito

pairing: azriel x reader

warnings: swearing, misogyny, best friends that wanna fuck, sexual tension, possible violence, jealous!az, slowly shifting into slight darker content 👀 hope no one notices

summary: Going undercover alters your appearance more than your friends ever anticipated—now Azriel can’t tear his eyes away.

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“Stop touching and just relax.”

“I can’t,” You squirm under Mor’s touch. Two hours spent around the city spending obscene amounts of money on a dress and heels that you were only going to wear once. Nimble fingers part through your hair, undoing paper curls and oiled fingers run through the ends of silky strands. Everything is too tight—too exposed. “I am deeply uncomfortable.” Your arms cross behind your back, fingers awkwardly intertwining to create some sort of barrier between your ass and the possibility of peering eyes.

The High Lords cousin doesn’t take it personally, quickly finishing final touches on your makeup and the person you see in the mirror is so far off from what you were used to that it makes your breath catch. “It’s perfect. You’re going to be perfect—they won’t be able to keep their eyes off of you.”

Your hand shakes at the thought, painted fingers curling around the glass of champagne and knocking the whole thing back in one go.

“You’re going to ruin your lipstick.”

“If I don’t have at least two more of those, I’m going to ruin this whole night.” It felt weird having your hair down like this and your fingers twitch to tuck it back into your usual bun but Mor keeps throwing looks over her shoulder while she refills both glasses. Just daring you to fuck up her work.

After the second glass your brain finally stops hyper-fixating on the fact that you can actually feel the bare skin of your thighs touching with each step, an annoying change from the leathers that usually prevented things like this. “It’s just a few dances. Bat your lashes and smile pretty and the intel will come to you, I’m sure of it.”

“I don’t think one dress will get me all of that.”

“It’s not about the dress.” She’s rubbing oil into your skin that makes it shine when the light touches, the sweet smell lingering long after you’ve left the room and the whole walk downstairs is filled with gentle reminders on everything she’d been teaching you all week. “It’s you in it. Seriously, where have you been hiding all of this ass?” You swat her hands away, grateful that the others had left far earlier. You could just hear Az and Cass now, eyes rolling at the very thought of their relentless teasing—this would be the topic of many jokes for weeks to come.

Slight sway of your hips, soften the length of your spine, shoulders back and head high. Confident steps even though the heels were fucking killer; five inches of added height and you’d still feel small in a room crawling with fully grown men. The champagne glass is finished and refilled once more before you’re tugged away to the balcony and past the wards.

Usually, winnowing was calming but for some reason, this time it had the hairs on the back of your neck prickling at attention from all the eyes that slid in your direction. “That was subtle.”

“We’re late,” Mor mutters through her teeth, flashing a less than sweet smile to the males undressing her with their eyes. Typical for Hewn City but still fucking disgusting. “I figured a flashy entrance would distract from that. Now, be nice.”

Easier said than done with anxiety beginning to ebb forth, fingers flexing and nails running over the details of your dress. The words from earlier repeat in your mind and instantly your spine straightens, chin raising and the added swish to your hips is enough to attract the attention of any male within a five mile radius.

It’s customary to greet the High Lord and Lady, your heels clicking and face aloof when swiftly curtsying into a respectful bow. “Rise,” Feyre commands, voice strong and filled with unquestionable power but you could see that look in her eye—familial fondness creeping at the edges of blue irises and you’re quick to appear anxious. Less comfortable when surrounded by people you’d known longer than you could put into words. “Join the others, there’s plenty of food and drink for everyone.”

Better judgement screams in your mind not to look just a little to the right; your peripheral catching onto the faint glow of cobalt blue but your eyes slide over without permission.

Azriel looks godly standing guard near his High Lord and Lady. He’s handsomely dressed in one of his fancier pairs of fighting leathers, lethally strapped to the nines with daggers at his thighs, switchblades tucked in pockets or strapped to his ankles and swords that cross at his back, right between his wings.

Like an angel of death; just as tempting as he was deadly.

You look away before he can catch you admiring the tailored cut of sturdy, dark tactical gear stretching across his muscles. Too quickly for you to notice the way he double takes, eyes widening a fraction and stance stiffening ever so slightly when he recognizes the slope of your nose and shape of your mouth glistening in gloss. He nearly chokes on his breath at the accentuation of your figure, curves on full display in a complete juxtaposition to your usual attire and his stare follows as you disappear into the crowd of bodies.

He can’t leave his spot but it doesn’t stop him from sending out his own personal surveillance to keep tabs on the way you shift about the room.

Everywhere you move, eyes follow.

Males halt their conversation, sipping on whiskey so expensive that it probably equates to a months worth of rent but judging by their tailored suits and gold cuff-links—money was the least of their problems.

“A drink, miss?”

Relief works its way into your form when you accept, thanking the waitstaff politely while acting your ass off with the fluttery lashes and doe eyes. It paints a perfect little picture—entrapping susceptible males with overly inflated egos and misogynistic thought processes. You’re almost a little too deep in the facade, aimlessly wandering through the sea of bodies with ears specially attuned to every conversation; sifting through the meaninglessness in order to catch little pieces of a bigger picture that had yet to be deciphered.

“And who might you be?”

“Nobody.” The response is instinctive, a second nature that’s easily smoothed over with a demure smile.

Even you could admit the male was handsome, all solid muscle and alluringly ragged edges. His suit is immaculate, fitting the strong line of his shoulders to perfection as the halfway unbuttoned tunic beneath broadcasts the tawny tones of his chest loitered with inky tattoos. Dark hair frames his face, a silver scar cutting through the thick of one brow and yet its completely overshadowed when in the midst of such beauty. “You certainly don’t look like ‘nobody’ to me.”

Warmth spreads at the nape of your neck, your body affected by the soulful bass of his voice and for a fleeting moment you have to remind yourself of the task at hand.

The male doesn’t give time for you to come up with another one of your carefully curated lies. A hand is extended your way, the faelight above catching on the masculine rings adorning his pinky and pointer fingers when your hand is taken in his own.

It’s almost embarrassing—the spectacle he makes in spinning you slow, taking in every detail with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

Thank the Mother for Mor and her attention to detail, picking out the perfect dress and glimmering diamonds that distracted from the true soldier that burned in your soul, a characteristic that had been exercised for decades enduring Cassian and Azriel’s relentless training regiment.

“Whoever you’ve come with will never recover from the loss he’s about to take,” The males eyes are ravenous, that previously bored darkness finally flickering with life beneath the surface.

The surprised laugh you let out is genuine, a shocked bark of a thing that’s anything but ladylike but he doesn’t seem to mind. “You have a very high sense of self in assuming I’d go anywhere with you considering I don’t have the slightest clue on who you are.”

Another lie added to the steadily growing web. You’d been briefed on every single person in this room, memorized their faces and obsessively studying their lives and known connections until the only thing left was to figure out who possessed the most valuable information. “Who better to trust than Stewards right hand?” Feminine wonder masks the satisfaction of such an easily attained lead and suspicion begins to grow in your gut. Maybe it’s not as well concealed as you’d assumed because the cockiness is dialed down multiple levels and the smile he wears is far more flattering than that entitled smirk. “Call me Atlas.”

Music filters throughout the space and steadily the sea of bodies becomes more uniform, paired up couples shifting about the room with a hardened grace that allowed their movements to appear elegant, even if their faces were stripped of any semblance of emotion. “Atlas,” The name is foreign on your tongue but not entirely unpleasant. “Have any clue where they keep their stash?”

A cheshire grin accompanies the muscular bicep he holds out in offering. “Allow me to lead the way.”

Everything goes as planned, a knowing nod to Mor, a giddy smile when the Stewards second hand tugs you down a hallway, bypassing stationed guards and passing over a small pouch of silver coins to the scrawny soldier standing in front of a thick set of double doors. “Where are we going?”

“You wanted the good stuff. Kier keeps them in his office.” High heels click against the polished floors, taking in the layered colors of obsidian, onyx and oblivion. It’s typical for a male, simple, with just enough overindulgence to make your eyes roll.

“Are we supposed to be in here?”

Atlas moves across the space with ease, unlatching the lock on the liquor cabinet and collecting two glasses and a thick crystal decanter filled halfway with a deep amber liquid. “Are you going to tell on me?”

Every movement you make hold more grace than you’ve mustered up in a century. Femininity oozes from every pore and it’s intoxicating—this males reaction to the slightest graze of your nails against his fingers. It plants a terrifying seed, one eager to learn exactly how far you could take it. How many other people would react the same way?

Your mind takes a turn, sliding a key into a door you’d long since boarded up.

And you can’t help but wonder if the simple seduction would work on Azriel too.

“I can be convinced to keep a secret,” Magic must be used to keep the liquor chilled because the crystal is cold to the touch. “If you show me the balcony too.”

Atlas nods slowly, taking your words entirely different than intended but you don’t bother correcting it. Not when he strides over to the doors with such ease, pulling out a personal set of keys and unlocking them as if he’d done so a million times before.

You supposed Hewn was a sight to behold from this angle, high heels click against the concrete, bracelets clinging against the iron railings as you peer over. In its own, hauntingly beautiful way; a darker part of you could find the appeal if you overlooked the horrors that took place there.

“Now, I’ve snuck you out here, breaking all kinds of rules and jeopardizing my job for you.” If it’s the truth, Atlas has a hell of a way of making it seem nonchalant—every word laced in an amusement you can’t quite place but it’d be lying to say you didn’t find it slightly charming. “Will you finally tell me your name?”

There’s a mischievous sparkle in your eye, a taunting elongation of one leg, the shiny curve of your high heel dragging gently against his ankle. You almost answer when your eyes catch on the shadows in the corner, their color just a little too dark, their ebb just a little too sentient. Of course, Azriel would follow you out there when he believed you were taking too long, playing the perfect position of Night Court security when urging guests away from restricted areas but jealously slips its way into his tone when he finds you and Atlas on the balcony standing a little too close to be considered friendly. “You aren’t supposed to be out here.”

The male with you doesn’t seem the slightest bit deterred, cockily tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear while the other hand fishes out a small pouch full of gold coins from his suit pocket and rudely stuffs it into Azriel’s chest without even looking. “How about you go back inside and give us a few uninterrupted moments to get to know each other?”

Azriel’s brow raises, wings bristling when tracking the two fingers Atlas has grazing down your cheekbone and his tone is eerily even when responding. “Did you come alone tonight?”

“Yes,” Atlas retorts none the wiser, a smirk curving at the corners of his mouth. “Though, I have no intentions on leaving how I came.”

“Is that so?” It happens so quickly. Azriel snatching the male away from you, his fist darting out and connecting with Atlas’ jaw with such precision that the impact sends the Steward’s second in command unconscious on the cobblestone. “Mission’s over,” Azriel all but growls, his grip possessive when pulling you in. “We’re leaving.”

“Azriel,” Your eyes widen, glass slipping from your grasp as your brain moves like molasses when trying to comprehend what you’d witnessed. It doesn't bother Az though, his hand a firm weight at the dip of your back, pinky finger just grazing the curve of your ass with every step. “I wasn’t even close to being finished—he was about to give me everything.”

“Oh, I’m more than aware of what he was about to give you.”

He looks like he’s readying himself to winnow the two of you out of there, thick clouds of shadows materializing around his threatening frame but something forces him to decide against it. His jaw clenches, stance rigid and voice clipped when telling you to 'come this way', taking a sharp left turn before shoving your body inside. “Azriel, what the hell?”

“Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing.” The door slams behind him, lock twisting with a resounding click but none of that distracts from the downright murder-strut Azriel adopts when stalking towards you. Your heart hammers against your chest, heels scraping against the polished floors in your attempts to create space but the male before you eats it all up. “Do you have any idea what you’ve been doing to me?”

The laugh that pushes free is breathless; taken aback. “What?"

A war wages in Azriel's mind as he strains to contain the small semblance of control he's ever been able to gather in your presence. You make him crazy; shove him out of his comfort zone and force him to take risks that his skillful training strictly rejects. You're an enigma, a flame that burns but also provides warmth to those who handle you with care. “I thought you in your leathers was sin.”

You swallow thickly as your body responds to the drop in his voice; the gravel that positively rattles his tone and morphs that strong soldier boy into a predator of a man with ravenous wants and needs. Rapturous desires that plagues his thoughts, tainting his actions and lingering in the void of his shadows with intent to kill.

Shock blends into need as Azriel backs you against the desk, the rigid line of his cock straining against the stitching of his leathers. It digs against your belly; teasing, taunting you with the possibilities. “But then you come waltzing in wearing this dress—cauldron boil me—are you even wearing any underwear?”

"I couldn't," A blush burns at your cheeks, every inch of you sparking to life under his stare. "Mor said panty lines are tacky."

"Then it'd be best you refrain from telling her what happens in here because I'm about to make you sound fucking garish." Hips buck involuntarily, a helpless rut whittling away at whatever self-control Azriel has left. It’s clearly not much because soon his lips are too preoccupied with learning yours and strong hands are busy familiarizing themselves with the curves you usually kept so carefully concealed. Eager fingers run over the tight fabric around your waist, gliding over the length of your stomach and cupping the weight of your breasts, thumbs grazing over peaked nipples. Mapping the canvas of your body like a man starved.

Denying his touch is out of the question; at least that’s what your body decides as it leans into the heavy drag of his weight. For once, you lean into the girlish nature of allowing the male to lead—to comply as Azriel guides your face to his own. Indulging in feverish kisses because he started it and it was only fair for you to finish it.

The lines of friendship blur with his tongue in your mouth and you’re too drunk on the scent of his cologne to question what any of this could mean afterwards. What chaos could ensue from helping him hike the hem of your dress up, up, up with a needy groan. “Can’t believe you hid all of this from me,” Azriel all but whines, golden irises gobbling up the fullness of your thighs. Pupils dilate at your lack of undergarments; the thin leather thigh holsters strapped tight against the muscle of your legs and inky shadows swipe at the weapon secured there—stealing it as a prize.

“Can you blame me?” The words come out breathy, palms dragging along rigid muscle hidden beneath his clothes, nails seconds away from slicing through the offending fabric for more of his warmth, for more of him in general because this male was a thing of dreams. Of carefully curated fantasies that females with far more time on their hands wrote about in their journals. “How would I get any work done with everyone staring at my ass?”

His touch is bold, two fingers sliding between your thighs to slide along the slick that collects between lower lips. "That won't be an issue for you anymore." A gasp forces your lips to part when he circles around your clit, feeling the area around it without actually giving what you want. Azriel likes it more that way; enjoys the ways your legs tremble and chest heaves. "You'll find that people don't stare much at the things that belong to me."

"I'm not yours," You struggle to verbalize the thought fully when he finally applies the right amount of pressure to your neglected bundle of nerves. Quick little circles under the calloused drag of two fingers works a strangled moan free. "I don't belong to anyone," You try to speak it aloud so the point comes across but all that's leaving your lips is pathetic pants of yesyesyes and pretty pleas for moremoremore.

He’s cruel in his torture, pulling his hands away seconds before release can wash over you and a cocky smirk etches in the corner of his mouth. It’s knowing; cognizant of the fact that your orgasm lies in the palm of his hands, rests under the willful press of his fingertips.

“Please?” You whisper, voice cracked; broken, ruined from nothing but his hands alone and you still hadn’t cum yet. Every nerve burns, toes curling, stomach clenching and pussy pulsing around nothing as your hips careen forward—searching for the sweet friction that Azriel just knows how to provide.

You thank the Mother for his lack of revolve, for it had to be her mercy that allows his stubborn defenses to crumble so quickly. To give in and offer everything you’d been begging for . He’s not kind about it; doesn’t coax the orgasm forward but yanks at it like a dog on a leash. It’s claiming the way he watches you through your high, drinking up your sounds and committing the slick sight of you to memory.

He doesn’t even give you enough time to catch your breath before he’s tugging his leathers down his hips, thick fabric bunching at his thighs. “Save your pretty pleas for soft pricks like Aaron.”

“Atlas.”

Azriel’s brow raises, a subtle twitch of muscle that shouldn’t be as threatening as it is. Or at least it wouldn’t be if it wasn’t followed by the ominous drag of his cock through your folds, the heavy weight of him coating itself in your slick.

You know he wants to say something. It’s hanging off the tip of his tongue; some venomous comment fueled by raw, unbridled jealousy. Some sick part of you wants him to say it—maybe then he’ll admit to his feelings; confessing to the tension that permeates when the two of you enter a room or share a joke or brush arms or get a little too heated during training.

“I believe your role tonight is soft and demure,” His voice is deceptively even considering the rough jolt of his hips that bullies the blunt head of his cock deep inside of you. “So don’t use that mouth of yours unless it’s to tell me how good I fucking feel.”

Az holds true to his word because every time your lips part to make some stupid comment for him to slow down or loosen his grip on your hips because you’re sure bruises are forming—Azriel just fucks you harder. Presses the palm of his hand against your mouth to muffle the moans, to seize the symphony of sighs that gasp free when he treats sensitive spots with such aggression.

He can feel your legs shaking, tuts his tongue in hushed amusement when he catches you trying to inch away; searching for a spare second to catch your breath. “Where d’you think you’re going?”

No mercy is shown for your choked breaths when Azriel’s focused on the ripple of your ass with each thrust. “It’s so fucking deep,” The words come out garbled against his palm and it’s only then that he pulls it away, fingers ghosting over the swollen plush of your lips in silent appreciation.

“Filthy pussy’s just sucking me right in,” Your cheeks burn, lids fluttering closed as you try not to acknowledge the fact that his voice and those syllables strung together is just enough to have you clenching around him; slick gushing down the length of him and dripping from the heavy weight of his balls.

A sharp smack of his hand against the fat of your ass; the perfect pinch of pain to accompany the mind-numbing pleasure that wracks through every nerve. “Azriel!”

“Now you remember my name?” His tone is pure venom, every rational part of his brain clouded with envy, leaking with a bitterness that scrunches up the perfect lines of his face. “Can’t believe you were about to give this up to that fucking ingrate.” Cool air breezes against your sex as your ass is lewdly pried open enough for Azriel to stare at the sopping wet mess you make. “Not after I’ve been waiting so godsdammed long for this—for you.” A creamy ring of your cum catches at the base of his cock; cunt clenching over and over and over as he works you through orgasm after orgasm.

Mumbled praises and keening moans are your only reply, knees bending for better leverage as you lean back into the pace he sets. Screw the mission—fuck the objective. Damn anything that wasn’t Azriel and his cock and those perfect hands that claims sweat-slicked skin. You don’t even fight it, succumbing to the pleasure and the male administering it. “Right there!” You barely recognize the sound of your own voice, ears focused on Azriel’s grunts and whispered praises. “So good. So good—fuck!”

“This is mine?” It’s not really a question. That much you know when you feel the pressure of his thumb rubbing circles along your clit. “Say it so I can hear you.”

“Yes!” Eyes roll. Words slur. Fists clutch at polished wood; manicured nails leaving indents in mahogany. “Belongs to you.”

Azriel’s too good—too precise; too determined. Forces him to rut deep and carve out a place inside of you with his name branded on it. Thick ropes of his seed paints quivering walls; claiming with a kind of possessiveness that has your toes permanently curled in your heels.

There’s barely enough time to catch a proper breath or situate your dress when thick wad of papers are smacked before you like a godsdammed gift, all neatly stacked and basically tied with a fucking shadowy bow. All the intel you’d bitched at Az for compromising—written right there in plain sight. “Those are the—you…thank you.”

“Don’t get all sweet for me now,” Azriel muses darkly, affectionately patting at your cheek as if you were some drowsy pup, his head nodding in gesture to the neat stack of stolen papers on the table while swiftly tucking himself away and redoing the ties on his breeches. “I’m only covering for your pretty ass so I can ruin it later.”

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snarltoothed · 2 years ago

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chronically ill crowd what is your least favorite weird symptom/condition???? mine is hyperhydrosis <3

#r #chronically ill #chronic illness #women’s health #radfems do touch #radfems interact #medical misogyny #…kind of i mean i think its fucking misogyny that they dosed me at male levels on psych meds and turned nightsweats into #all the fucking time sweats. tbfh.#i mean i was always clammy actually i’d be lying if i said it was JUST night sweats before #but nighttime was the only time i used to sweat to the fucking extent i do now at all times #used to just be a leeeeetle bit wonky about it like temperature change in general has always made me sweat #even going from hot into cold which indicates my body has no idea what it’s been doing like ever #school suckedd i had to wear the thickest fucking sweaters bc of how schools blast the fucking AC to force girls to not wear shorts #but that temperature and the inconsistency in some areas being way colder bc of the nature of how AC works in a large building #just constantly sweating… god and then i fucking graduated and i thought i was free 😭😭#like oh cool as long as i cater my environment to suit my needs i can be comfortable and stop being damp always!!!#fucking joke’s on youuuuu dumbass you get 2 years before catering your environment no longer helps #cursed with Forever Dampness! fuck you and your sensory issues lol

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joonberriess · 1 year ago

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k e r o s e n e

⋆ TAGS — cheating, older!oc, oc’s a mommy (her hubby’s a hunk), obsessive!jk, blackmail, dead dove do not eat, non-con and dub-con (oc never says yes at all bc she’s coerced even if she "gives in"), dark, smutty smut, tit play, mentions of breast milk, protected sex and then unprotected sex (dw reader is secure n safe!), harassment bc jk does not take no for an answer, threats that oc lowkey gets hot n bothered by, exhibitionism but my way (SPOILER: someone gets fucked next to a sleeping body), some plot, slight(?) dirty talk, jealous!jk, jk is not a good guy at all, oc’s morals r questionable 2, open-ending, SOMEONE DIES sooo, office sex, angry(?) sex, drugging, meanie!jk, degradation, breeding kinks r mentioned, misogyny and objectification, possessive!jk

⋆ WORD COUNT — 15 k

I can live in your dreams, will you be my fantasy little baby?

“Oh, it’s you.” You let a breath of relief from your lips, “Did you need something?” There’s a small pause and you end up averting your eyes.

The tension is heavy and it has your stomach twisting in knots out of anticipation. Your eyes flicker over to him and you make eye contact in an instant. You stare into his eyes nervously as an all too familiar sensation of feeling like prey washed over you.

“Always so cold,” Jungkook’s steps are calculated and slow, his dark gaze stays on you the entire time, “but for you though? I’ll take anything y/n.” He stops in front of your desk with a wicked little smile, “My bad–Mrs l/n.” He corrects himself.

You bite your tongue as a twinge of annoyance passes over you, “Jungkook..” A soft sigh of frustration leaves you, “One of these days you’re going to get me in trouble if you keep calling me by my name, it makes people think..we’re close..” You murmur the last part to yourself while looking to the side, “ ‘s not something I feel like explaining to the dean either.”

Jungkook draws closer to you, he slides his hand along the surface of the desk as his fingertips lightly graze the wood. Your eyes drop down nervously, you take a step back but he follows. You’re at the corner of the desk when he finally cages you in with one arm, “And why would you have to explain to the dean? Hm? What kinda stuff you got goin’ in your pretty little head?” He grins.

He’s so close you’re practically inhaling his cologne, he smells undeniably good as you hold yourself back from breathing in more of his intoxicating scent. You jump when his fingers brush over yours, “Relax,” Jungkook laughs playfully, “you’re always so tense.”

“Was there something you needed?” You finally breathe out after realizing that Jungkook wasn’t going to be paying attention to anything you’ve said up until now. Telling him to stop would be like letting him off with a slap on the wrist and you figured it was better to see what he wanted so you could get this entire interaction over and done with. “I have a few meetings to attend so my time is short.”

A few beats of silence pass and Jungkook doesn’t say anything which makes it harder for you to figure out what he was feeling. “Do you now?” He hums, “But no, nothing much, I just needed help with the rubric.”

You quickly retracted your hand from his and stepped away from the desk, “What part did you need help with?” You’re gnawing at your bottom lip, just itching for this entire interaction to be over.

Jungkook beckons you over, “How am I gonna show you if you’re all the way over there?” He snorts, “C’mere, I won’t bite.” He breathily hums while he fishes out the papers from his bag.

You wobble over on uneasy legs with your arms folded numbly over your chest. You’ve long tuned out Jungkook’s voice, the only thing you were acutely aware of was where his hands touched as he talked to you. You peered from the corner of your eye to watch as he stroked up and down your arm slowly. Occasionally he’d give you a small faint squeeze to the arm while his thumb rubbed circles over your goosebumps.

“y/n?” Jungkook’s voice grounds you back to reality, you’re suddenly more aware of your surroundings—more aware of him. “You with me?” He appears out of the blue in your face, you flinch at the close proximity and turn your head.

“Yeah.” You softly breathe out, “I, uh think you should be fine. You’ve never failed the other assignments before, so this should be no different.” You tug your arm from his hold, “Is there anything else before I go?” Despite slipping on your coat, Jungkook’s piercing gaze manages to make you feel like you’re naked. “Jungkook..?” You whisper.

Jungkook tilts his head to the side as his hooded gaze racks over your covered form, “Mm,” he toys with his lip ring and bites his bottom lip, “nah, I think I got somethin’. I’ll see you around, Mrs l/n,” he coos softly while licking his lips.

You’re left standing alone with nothing but your thoughts to keep you company.

I can be what you need, little baby. Just tell me what you need.

You’re not sure when the obsession began, nor WHY it even existed. Had you possibly led him on? Did Jungkook get any mixed signals you might not have been aware you gave him? There were so many why’s but very little answers.

Jungkook came from a very wealthy background (old money), his father was a famous business tycoon and Jungkook was set to inherit the family company in the future. Much like his father Jungkook lived up to the Jeon name. He was ambitious, intelligent, and cunning. If things weren’t going his way it was known that Jungkook would make it happen one way or another.

What Jungkook wanted, he got. Thanks to daddy’s money of course. Despite this though Jungkook proved to be a highly intelligent individual. His exam scores over the years were proof. Even now Jungkook’s scores were at an all time high, he was the picture perfect example of a good student. The perfect role model if it weren’t for his rather unorthodox behavior.

It began with little thank you notes attached to snacks, then small gifts like plushies and flowers. From the very beginning you had been wary of his gifts, you couldn’t decipher whether he was sending them platonically or romantically, but you being the absolute saint decided to give him the benefit of doubt. That alone would be your demise.

What began as brief polite conversations slowly turned into lingering looks and wanton whispers of unspoken desires.

You as his teacher knew better and tried to set things straight with him but each time you sat him down he’d give you those devilish eyes of his and leave you a sputtering puddle. What even was the point if Jungkook always managed to turn you into a mess with his cocky attitude?

You found yourself worrying about your job more often. Jungkook simply didn’t care about the ring you wore around your finger, it’s something he’d come to tell you many, many times. You partially blamed yourself for not being firmer with him, Jungkook was a brute who had no regards for your personal boundaries. It was evident in the way he cornered and handled you to his liking.

Which is why you weren’t surprised with him anymore.

“Comin’ to bed soon love?” You look up to see your husband propped up against the doorway with his arms folded over his bare chest. You’re tempted to look further down when you notice he’s wearing those damned sweatpants, the ones that hung low on his hips.

“Yeah, I have one more left and then I’m all yours.” You sleepily smile while blowing him a gentle kiss, “And Jae? Did he fall asleep already?”

Jicheol brushes his wet hair from his face with one hand, “Out like a light, must’ve been real tired from today.” He comments, “Which reminds me of a certain someone’s bedtime.” He gives you a look that immediately has butterflies fluttering, “If you’re not in bed by eleven I’m comin’ in here and carrying your ass out. You’re warned.” He tosses you a little smirk over his shoulder before slipping away and shutting your office door.

Your face flares up like a shy schoolgirl as you chew on your pen to distract yourself from the not so nice thoughts invading your brain. You notice the papers you’re holding belongs to Jungkook, you’re surprised he ended up at the bottom of the stack. You scratched your head in wonder and curiosity since you wanted to see what Jungkook wrote. With a lazy hum you lean back in your desk chair and begin reading.

‘I can be your baby in real life, sugar,’

‘Look me in the eye tell me I'm the one,’

‘Can't you be my fantasy, little baby?’

Your heart begins to race and you swear you can hear your heartbeat hammering in your ears. Shock fills your entire being the more you read and the heat never leaves your face. You don’t know what to think or say, this by far was something you would have never guessed would happen to you. Not even in your wildest dreams, or nightmares.

The icing on top was the fact that he had written within the essay requirements and had met each and every one of your expectations so technically the essay was valid and you couldn’t just toss it out. It was clear that he had thought it through, he went about his word play smartly and knew how to phrase his words just damn near perfect.

So here you were now going through a crisis because your very hot student just said he wanted to bang you in different positions all night long. You felt like if this kept up with him you were going to be taking a paid or unpaid leave, it didn’t matter to you as long as you could take a break and get away from this all. Get away from him.

“Babe?” Jicheol’s voice brings you out of your moment of hysteria, “It’s past eleven-ten come to bed now, yeah?” He strolls into your office, “Damn, that bad?” He says while eyeing the papers sitting in your hands. He goes to reach for them when you finally snap out of it and yank the papers back. “Uhh..okay, didn’t know it was THAT bad of an essay, now quit playing and come to bed.” He groans tiredly.

You place a hand over your racing heart and sigh, “I don’t wanna talk about it.” You toss the essay onto the desk and lead your husband out by the arm, “Let’s just call it a night.” You mumble while hiding your face in his arm. Jicheol doesn’t mention anything else.

“He went too far.” You whisper under your breath while turning away from the innocent papers sitting on your desk—innocent but oh so ominous.

Since reading it you’ve been on edge. You tried to avoid the topic of essays during a lecture but a sweet girl had asked and you were forced to talk about them. Jungkook had a (knowing) smirk the entire time as you informed the class that you indeed had finished reading and grading them. You hadn’t meant to but your eyes slowly gravitated towards him, your gazes met until you were the one who turned away with a flushed expression.

A gentle but firm knock brings you out of your inner turmoil, “Who is it?” You softly call back while turning to the door with a hand over your chest.

“Me,” Jungkook replies while already slipping into the room like he has many, many other times.

Your heart skips a beat and your stomach does a flip, this was harder than you initially thought it would be. You’re not so sure this is even a good idea but you inhale deeply and close your eyes, “..I’m going to keep this very brief with you,” you step behind your desk while reaching for the essay lying on your desk, “the essay—why?”

Jungkook grins softly, “What?” He shrugs innocently, “Didn’t like it? Was I a little too ‘vulgar’? Not somethin’ you’re used to people telling you?” His gaze alone is enough to make you feel like he’s undressing you with his eyes, unpleasant little shivers creep up your spine and you try not to let it show how nervous he’s making you.

“Don’t–” You raise your hand with gritted teeth, “..There are lines that shouldn’t be crossed, and you’re crossing every one of them. I warned you time and time again about your..‘actions’ but you’re not taking me seriously.” You give him a pointed look trying your best to come off as stern.

Jungkook lazily grins, “Oh but I am taking you seriously Mrs l/n,” the way your name rolls off his tongue shouldn’t make your stomach swoop the way it does, he takes a step closer and you backwards, “ ‘s why you’re my favorite teacher y/n.”

Your patience finally snaps, “Let me make myself clear: these little games of yours? Stops today. I’m not entertaining you nor the stupid child’s play you have going on. If this keeps going I’ll report this to the dean and have you removed from class.”

You try your best to stand tall and keep your gaze unwavering but Jungkook’s a challenge though. He stares back defiantly with his dark onyx eyes—they’re empty and void of any emotion (his tongue poking the inside of his cheek says it all though). “Really now?” He hums, “Let me know how that goes for you,” he chuckles under his breath while reaching over with a tattooed hand to play with the family picture lying on your desk, “Cute you even came up with that silly little idea.”

“Excuse me?” You watch closely as he handles your picture frame so carelessly in his hands.

“Go on,” he nods his head as his lips curl in amusement, “run to the dean and tell ‘em allllll about how inappropriate I am. You have my essay as proof,” he licks his lips, “I wonder if they’ll think the same thing as me,” his voice drops to a husky whisper, “pretty face..soft lips..” His gaze drops down before he’s meeting your eyes again, “Pretty everythin’.”

You clear your throat, “Leave,” you point to the door, “I can’t have you in my class any longer. So leave, I’ll have this situation sorted with the dean by tonight so expect to receive a letter or email.” You hold your hand out for the picture frame, “Jungkook.”

Jungkook tosses the frame up in the air a few times, each time making your heart skip a beat as you wait with a bated breath. “Okay.” He grins and places the frame in your hold, “There’s a tiny little problem though,” he mumbles and suddenly grips your hands tightly and squeezes.

You gasp in surprise as he tugs you closer until you’re both leaning face to face. He’s so close you can smell his spicy scented cologne, the forced proximity begins to make you panic with fear. The only thing separating you two is the desk and nothing else—even then you have no doubt he’d just pull you over the surface if he wanted to.

Your eyes flicker over his face a few times and you nervously lick your lips, “Let me go,” you’re not sure why you’re whispering when you could be yelling and screaming bloody murder right now.

But you don’t.

“Jungkook–”

“You know,” he starts softly, “my dad always said if I wanted something then to take it. No one’s going to give you anything simply because you say please and thank you. You’re either at the top of the food chain or…the bottom. ” You make a wounded noise and turn your cheek to him as his hot breath fans over the side of your face, “and right now ‘m gonna take.” He mumbles, “And if I have to take a little walk down to the dean’s office and tell them that my beloved professor is making moves on me—I will.”

Your eyes widen and his grip slowly loosens when you start going lax in his hold, “You wouldn’t want me to tell everyone their favorite teacher likes fucking her students? Maybe we can make it a little spicy and tell them how we’ve been having a three month affair? Hm?”

“Y-You’re insane.” You yank yourself back from his hold in a rather harsh fashion. You cradle your sore wrists to your chest and stare back at him with glossy eyes, “None of that is true and you know it.”

He barks out a laugh, “Oh baby,” he wipes an imaginary tear from his eye, “who said anything about truth? It’s a wonder what money can buy these days.” He hums, “ ‘s a reaaaalll shame my dad funds a few organizations here too don’t you think? Maybe my dad should have a loong phone call with the dean tonight, they’re pretty good friends after all. I’m sure they’d like to catch up.”

You feel like your world is crashing down, he’s cornered you and now you’ve got no escape. You’re filled with hopelessness and despair, Jungkook’s got you right where he wants you. “C’mon don’t make that face,” you don’t notice when he comes to stand in front of you, “no one has to know..” He coos quietly while backing you up into the desk.

“Jungkook–” Your hand comes up to push his arm away when he sets it right next to you on the desk, he cages you in with his breath fanning over the side of your face because you refuse to look him in the eyes. His hand is so close to your thighs too it nearly has your heart jumping out of your throat. “Jungkook, please.” You whimper while turning your face as the two of you look into each other's eyes.

His lips part but a knock brings the two of you out of your trances. He looks at the door in annoyance and clicks his tongue, “Fuckin’ hell.” He mutters more to himself while refusing to move from his spot. “Mrs Gong?” You hear one of your students say, “I was um, wondering if you had a few minutes to talk about the essay.” She says softly.

“Go on,” Jungkook whispers in your ear, “answer her.” He teasingly nips at you.

You tremble under him and push at his chest repeatedly, “Y-Yes..! Give me a moment I’m finishing up with another student right now dear,” you yelp when Jungkook strokes over your inner thigh, slapping a hand over your lips for a few seconds, “... J-Just sit out there, I’ll come in a bit.”

Jungkook chuckles quietly, and ignores the fierce glare you throw his way. “Let me go, Jungkook.” You attempt to slip away from the desk but Jungkook brings you back in with a hand curled around your waist, “Jungkook–” He silences your desperate pleas with a soft little ‘shh’ as he runs his thumb over your bottom lip. You can’t do anything but helplessly stare back at him, angry at yourself for being so weak and caving in.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen baby, so listen carefully,” he softly whispers, “I’m going to leave you my phone number and you’re gonna answer me later on tonight—ah-ah, none of that now,” he says when he sees a protest bubbling up, “you’re gonna be a good girl and reply okay? I don’t give a fuck if your husband is there or not, if you don’t answer me baby I’m gonna be forced to do somethin’ ugly and we don’t want that now do we? No, that’s right.” He talks to you like he’s speaking to a child or something. “Got it all down?”

You nod timidly and hold your tongue, “Good girl.” He smiles and lets you go, “Remember baby: answer.” He waves his phone in the air teasingly while stepping away.

You watch him walk to the door, he stops briefly and your heart skips a beat wondering what he could want now. “And for the record—I meant every little word just now.” He smirks darkly before pushing the door open and stepping out. You’re left standing there in the middle of the room trying to calm your racing heart.

“Mrs Gong?” The girl timidly calls out.

Your eyes snap over to the picture frame sitting in your hands and you take a deep long breath, “Come in.” You just dug yourself a hole you can’t even get back out from.

You looked out of your class window to see that the sky was beginning to set and it was a lovely shade of red-orange hues mixed with purple. You quickly glanced down at your watch and figured now would be a better time to leave. You shrugged your coat on and carried your things out the door. The janitor greeted you on your way out as you made your way down the dimly lit hallway.

The campus was pretty lonely and empty save for a few people here and there. Your heels clicked against the pavement as you made your way down to the teachers parking lot. From a distance you heard another pair of footsteps but you paid no mind thinking it was probably another teacher or the security guard. Sometimes things were too good to be true.

“Was beginning to wonder where my favorite teacher wandered off to.” Jungkook calls out from behind. He stands there with his hands in his pockets and a hand combing through his slightly messy hair. “Thought she might’ve run off for a second, we can’t have that happening now can we?” He hums.

You let out a chilly breath and shake your head, “Been busy with work and life stuff..” Your eyes are lowered to the ground, you refuse to meet his eyes because you already know what’s staring back. “Did you need something?” You tilt your head.

Jungkook toys with his lip ring and nods, “I’m guessing that’s why you requested days off for next week then hm? Husband takin’ you on a little trip, is that it?” He looks mildly bothered but the underlying possessiveness in his tone makes it easy to ignore. “Tell me baby,” he steps closer while caging you in between him and the car, “you trying to get away?”

You look up at him through your lashes and shake your head, “Jungkook, we’re outside.” You squirm around uncomfortably, “Someone’s gonna see us..!”

“C’mere,” he curls his hands around your waist and tugs you into him, “we got some business of our own.” You nearly stumble when he begins walking you two away from your car, your eyes dart around the parking lot in panic as you attempt to budge yourself away from Jungkook.

“Where are you taking me? Stop..! You realize how crazy this looks,” you turn your head in time to see a sleek black car come into view, no doubt it belonged to Jungkook though. “Why am I here Jungkook?” You pushed at his chest until he finally stumbled back a little.

Jungkook gives you a playful smile, “Out, gonna give you a nice little send-off before you run off from me next week baby.” He reaches around you to unlock his car, “Get in, ‘s fuckin freezing out here.” When you came out the sky was still colorful, now it’s completely dark and the only thing around was the orange lighting from the several lamps in the parking lot.

“Jungkook I’m not getting in the car with you,” you hopelessly look at him while pursing your lips in an attempt to suppress the oncoming whine, “I have things of my own to do, my husband is waiting for me.” You secretly relish in the way his eyes narrow when you mention ‘husband’, “Can’t all this wait for another day?”

He props himself against the car, his gaze drops down to your lips before flicking back up to your eyes. “I don’t think you’re in any position to make demands baby,” he leans down to whisper low in your ear, “we do this the easy way or something really bad can happen.” His lips slide along your cheek gently, placing a small trail of kisses to the corner of your mouth.

You meet his eyes as a thick wave of tension falls over you both. He takes your silence as an answer and pecks your lips, “Get on then,” he murmurs. His car lights up in a fuschia pink color when he starts it, you feel small curled up in his leather seat.

This is it. You’re really doing it.

Your heart races even faster when you see Jungkook reach over to shift the gears, “Wait, Jungkook–” You slip your hand over his marveling in the size difference, “My car, I can’t leave it here.”

Jungkook lets the steering wheel go and for a minute you think he’s giving in, but ignorance is bliss. He tugs you in by a hand to the cheek, slotting his lips over yours as he uses his hold to keep you still. You sit there unresponsive in complete shock, Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind as he occasionally tugs on your bottom lip with his teeth. He moves his lips languidly until wet little smacks begin to fill the quiet car.

You reach over to push him off but he quickly snatches your wrist up in his hold, you barely even fight back as you end up falling into his touch even more. You make soft noises as tiny little moans spill into Jungkook’s hot mouth, your lips are glossed over and slicked up with spit from his kisses.

Jungkook pulls away and pants hotly into your mouth, “You make it hard to control myself.” He quietly murmurs while pressing chaste kisses on you, “You have no idea,” he whispers, “those pretty little eyes and sweet lips drive me mad sweetheart. Fuck,” he clicks his tongue in annoyance.

Jungkook quickly shifts the car and begins pulling out of the parking lot. You end up hopelessly looking back at your car as it gets smaller and smaller the further he gets. To add more salt to the wound your phone buzzes loudly in your purse, you pause and Jungkook does too. “Answer it.” He says whilst slipping his hand over your knee, “C’mon baby, don’t keep him waiting.”

Your eyes sting with unshed tears as your worst fears come true, Jicheol’s texting you asking if everything’s alright and if you’re coming home now. Your eyes slide over the words over and over again, you can’t bring yourself to reply to him it was too much. Eventually though (because of Jungkook’s piercing gaze) you manage to reply that you’re heading out for drinks with some colleagues.

Jicheol replies with a ‘have fun, love u lots’ and something inside of you twists bitterly. “Tell him not to worry,” Jungkook turns to face you at a stop light, “me and you? We’re gonna have a nice loong conversation all night.”

“Relax pretty,” Jungkook mumbles behind you, “just sit back and let me do all the work.” His big hands settle over your hips using his grip to guide you towards the large bed sitting in the middle of the room.

Originally (or so you’ve been told), Jungkook was planning on having a dinner date first before taking you back somewhere for some fun. But here you were, standing in the middle of a hotel room feeling like a cheap whore. Funnily enough Jungkook had picked out a couples suite too judging by the rose petals, candles and bottle of wine.

You came to a stop in front of the bed, your hands were gripping the sash tying your coat together in an effort to stop Jungkook. Like everything else though, he took again and again.

His hands pried yours off and slipped the coat right off your shoulders, it pooled around your feet and you were left standing in your white blouse and black pencil skirt. You could feel his hot breath fanning over the side of your neck, sending pleasant little shivers down your spine.

“Look at you,” he whistles low as his hands cup both of your tits through the blouse, “like a wet dream come true, you’d make any man fall to their knees baby.” He purrs while massaging both soft mounds, the stimulation has your tits aching and nipples hardening through the cups of your bra.

A weak whimper slips past your lips, you reach up to grip his wrist tightly rather than attempt to pry him off. You stumble over your coat just trying to get away from him, “Jungkook—no,” you turn in time to see him advancing towards you like a predator.

He licks his lips slowly as he reaches out to gently shove you onto the bed, “No what baby? I’ll treat you realll good, show you how you’re meant to be fucked stupid. I’d have you hangin’ from my cock in a heartbeat, ‘s all you’re good for baby: takin’ cock and bein’ filled with cum.” Jungkook climbs over and pins you on the bed, “Don’t need to use your pretty little head when you’re with me baby,”

You cry out in surprise when he rips your blouse open and leaves a flurry of hot open mouthed kisses over your chest and peeking tits. “Fuckin’ hell,” he snarls and yanks the bra down, your tits come spilling out from the cups. He takes a hard nipple into his mouth and suckles gently, mimicking that of a hungry babe.

“Oh,” your eyes squeeze shut as hot pleasure shoots all the way down between your legs where you need it the most. His tongue rolls and swipes over your nipple repeatedly, he hums low and sneaks his other hand up to cup your tit. You moan louder as Jungkook fondles the soft flesh in his hand and your nipple ends up rubbing against his palm.

“You like that?” He rasps out and pulls away to give your other nipple the same treatment, “Got such slutty little tits for me, bet I can make ‘em leak for me.” A cheshire grin paints his lips as he deviously licks over your wet nipple, “We’ll just have to wait ‘n see, don’t we little mama?”

It feels like you’re in heaven right now just by having your tits played with. It wasn’t like Jicheol and you didn’t have an active sex life—nor was it boring by any means—but one thing that never quite went away was the sensitivity in your tits. Another thing you had discovered was that you still had some milk in there, if you played with them for long enough your tits leaked like crazy (Jicheol knew this firsthand).

Your eyes flutter shut as more moans force themselves out of you, “Fuck–wait,” you whisper out while pushing his head away, “hurts a little…” You mumble while shivering from the cold air hitting your wet nipples.

“Gonna taste that pussy of yours baby,” Jungkook reaches for the zipper to your skirt, “wonder if it’s as pretty as you.” He licks his lips hungrily, “Show me,” he pats your thighs and tugs the skirt down your legs.

Jungkook moans when he sees the lace garter attached to your sheer black stockings, “God, look at you. You were made for me weren’t you baby?” He strokes over your legs and then pries them apart, settling nicely between your open legs.

Jungkook tugs you close until your hips are pressed tight against his own, you can feel the print of his hard cock through his joggers. It feels hot and heavy, you’re already picturing how big his cock’s gotta be and the mere thought is enough to make your mouth water. As ashamed as you are to admit it, but you’re eager for him to fuck you. You want him to make good of his promises to fuck you all night in different positions until you can’t cum anymore.

A wave of regret washes over, “Wait,” you sit up and cover your chest with one arm mentally preparing yourself. If you were going to cheat, then you were going to make sure you didn’t remember any of it, “pass me a glass of wine.” Your lips are pursed in a soft pout, gaze half-lidded and dreamy-like (a charm you used on Jicheol to get your way at times).

“There you go sweetheart,” he reaches over for the entire bottle and pops it open, “let yourself go for me.” He purrs and brings the wine directly to your lips.

You become hyper aware of everything around—the rain that hits outside the fogged-up windows, the faint crackling noise from the candles, and the shuffling noises from the bed. How much time has passed since you both got here?

“Oh fuck..” You hear Jungkook breathily mutter under his breath, he continues to fuck his cock in and out of your soaked and sopping pussy without abandon. The lube ends up dripping from your folds and slides down the crevices of your cum splattered cheeks.

You’ve lost track of how many times you’ve cum, your clit’s numb and rubbed raw by now. An array of used condoms litter the trashcan nearby and by the looks of it the box might be empty after this round. Surely he’ll stop there…right?

“Hear that?” He grunts with effort as he smacks his hips into yours, “Sloppy pussy drippin’ all over me, ‘s like you were made for me, made to take cock ‘n be my lil’ cock sleeve.” He purrs low and lowers himself until he’s hovering over you. His strong hand comes up to grip your thigh, he wraps it around his waist and holds you close while he fucks into your greedy pussy over and over again.

Your face heats in embarrassment as the squelching and slapping noises get louder, you manage to bite your bottom lip and suppress the cries and whines that threaten to slip out. Everything about this is so good, from the way he fucks down to his heavenly cock that Jungkook sure as hell knew how to use, but you rather die than admit your enjoyment openly.

“Shit.” Jungkook looks like a wet dream come true as his head hangs low in pleasure and his necklace swings back and forth from the force of his thrusts.

You’re scrambling to find a grip on him, your hands curl around his shoulders and hold on for dear life. Your once quiet sighs become louder mewls and moans, little breathy “uhs” leaving your lips. The louder you get the harder he goes, he’s driving his cock deep inside with such force you wonder if you’ll be able to walk after this.

With each punishing slap he lands there’s a sweet little sting that follows afterwards. A particular thrust startles you bad when he brushes up against your g-spot. You find yourself leaning into him, thighs widening around his waist as you angle your hips in a way you know his cock will hit the spot.

“Mm–wait, ‘s good there,” you breathe out, “fuck..right there…” Your words are slurred and come out borderline pornographic reminding you of a porno or something.

Jungkook doesn’t reply anything other than a grunt, he reaches down to hook your thighs over his shoulders. He’s pressed so close his chest is rubbing up against your sore tits each time he lands another thrust. You’re finally letting your moans slip as the volume begins steadily increasing inside the room. The noises you both make rival those of the creaking and skin slapping.

“My name baby,” Jungkook whispers over your lips, “let ‘em know who’s fuckin’ this pussy.” The crazed look he has in his eye paired with his wild thrusting has your orgasm slowly ebbing away at you again.

You don’t like how close he is, how exposed you’re feeling from the forced face to face proximity he has you in. The hunger in his eyes has your cunt clenching around him like you’re afraid he’s gonna stop fucking you. Jungkook lets out a low moan and reaches up with one hand to squeeze your chin tightly, “C’mon, don’t go all stupid on me,” he licks his lips.

“Jungkook,” you softly moan as your lips part in a tiny ‘o’ from the grip he has on your chin/cheeks, “mmph—’m coming..!” You grit your teeth and arch your back just a tiny bit given that Jungkook’s got you in a mating press.

Jungkook lets your face go and does the unexpected, he lands a hard slap on your ass before he’s rubbing the sore skin gently, “Louder.” He lands another smack, this one hurting more than the one before.

“J-Jungkook..!” You cry out with watery eyes.

“Again.” Smack.

You manage to whimper out a half-garbled cry of his name, your pussy rhythmically throbs around his cock in a milking motion. There’s a nasty sound each time he bottoms out balls deep inside, your thighs shake and tremble from their spot on his shoulders. You’re left with a dazed cloudy feeling afterwards—nipples sore and your pussy wet as hell.

“Mmm,” you bite your lip and turn your face away in dizziness, “s..leepy..”

Jungkook doesn’t stop fucking you even if you sleepily beg him to stop. He pumps away at your spent cunt until he’s coming with a low groan of your name and a throbbing cock. You let out a sleepy sigh as your eyes begin slipping shut, you feel Jungkook gently tap your chin to get you awake again, “Open up for me baby, we’re not done here.” He hums low.

You woke up early in the morning after barely managing to catch any sleep. Jungkook had his face tucked in the crook of your neck and his arms tightly wrapped around your body. Your back was pressed against his chest where his necklace tickled the back of your neck. His hands were folded over your middle, grip tight and snug. You were beginning to wonder how the hell you were getting out.

“Fuck my head hurts,” you whisper out while lifting your head to survey your surroundings.

Clothes, shoes, bags—they were tossed everywhere. The sheets were sliding off the bed and the comforter was completely off hanging to the side. You spotted the empty glass of wine and two cups sitting together on the nightstand next to the candles, bitterly reminding you of the night before.

“I need to get out of here.” You whisper while tightly wrapping the white sheets around your body.

You don’t know how but you somehow manage to untangle yourself from Jungkook’s arms and slip off the bed. Jungkook’s still sleeping so you use this as a chance to dress and leave quickly. You’re not too sure if you’ll be leaving anytime soon if Jungkook wakes up.

“Shit.” You frown when you see all the messages Jicheol sent you (there were a ton of missed calls too).

jicheoooll<3 : babe r u ok?

9:23

don’t get too wasted, call if you need me to come

9:35

having fun??

10:00

you staying with friends tonight babe? pretty late alr

10:57

gn, call me in the morning beautiful

Once you manage to get dressed and call a taxi, you put all your attention to replying with a made-up story in your head. The guilt is eating you alive but you can worry about feeling like a shitty person later, right now you need to get away.

The cold air hits you in your face when you step out of the warm building, people are going about their days and cars are moving steadily through traffic. You hear a beep and you see your taxi parked on the side of the road. For now you can forget and you’ll worry about Jungkook later, you think to yourself while slipping into the warm car.

Your heart begins pounding at the sight of Jicheol’s car which is still parked out in front when you come home. You check the time on your watch and numbly realize he must’ve called in, the guilt feels ten times worse. With a heavy sigh you park the car in the driveway and slip out with your things and coat in hand. You were going to have to face him and your son one way or another, no use in crying over it now.

“What’s done is done.” You find yourself thinking out loud while heading up the steps. Your key is halfway in when the door suddenly opens and the warm air from inside hits you in the face. You’re momentarily stunned as you stand there with your hand still hovering in the air, “Jicheol.”

Your husband lets out a breath of relief as his big hands come up to cup your face inspecting for any injuries etc, “You’re okay,” he says in obvious relief, “did you have fun last night?”

“Yeah..” You whisper back, “Think ‘m gonna shower though, I stink.” You complain softly while heading inside rather quickly in an attempt to avoid Jicheol because you don’t know whether you want to cry or scream at your own guilt, “How’s Jae?” You were hoping to slip away to the bathroom before Jicheol could catch up but he’s hot on your tail after shutting the front door.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, you bitterly think while turning the hot water on.

“He’s fine, your mom came and picked him up last night. He’s gonna stay over for the weekend.” Jicheol slips his hands around your waist and gently guides you into the spacious bathroom, “Wanted to be here when you came,” he mumbles in your ear while kissing over your neck and shoulder, “missed you last night.” His hands slowly unbuttoned your messy blouse, “Couldn’t stop thinkin’ bout your fine ass, should’ve never let you walk out the house like that.” He huskily says.

Normally you’d shudder in anticipation and delight but right now the guilt is eating away at you. Your eyes slip shut in an attempt to focus and steer your mind away from what happened last night but god Jicheol’s making it hard. No matter how much you try to think about something else, your traitorous mind finds a way to flash images of Jungkook ripping your top open and sucking your nipples till they were sore and leaky.

“Got such slutty little tits for me, bet I can make ‘em leak for me.”

A breathy little ‘yes’ falls from your lips when the pair of hands massaging your tits slip under the cups and knead your sore mounds of flesh. Jicheol rolls your nipples between his fingers knowingly, tugging just the way he knows you like. “So fuckin’ needy.” Jicheol chuckles darkly. You lose yourself in the feeling as moans and sighs fall, the heat from the water running isn’t helping much either.

Your eyes slip open and a noise of confusion leaves you when Jicheol stops to tilt your chin towards him. Everything shifts back into place and you’re suddenly aware of everything around you—the running water, the steam, Jicheol—you try to ignore the disappointed feeling you get in your chest (you're scandalized that you’re feeling disappointed to begin with).

“You okay baby?” Jicheol looks worried, “Want me to stop?”

“No,” you wrap your arms around his shoulders and tug him closer to you. Jicheol stares at you through half-lidded eyes, licking his lips hungrily when you bring his face down. Your lips hover over his, “I missed you too.” You whisper quietly before closing the distance between you two.

Jicheol releases a muffled groan and slips his hand down to grip your hips tightly, you sigh blissfully when you press up against his front. You can feel the outline of his cock pressing against your lower stomach, sitting there throbbing from its confinements. He mutters a husky “fuck” and lifts you up onto the countertop with your back pressing against the foggy mirror.

Jicheol always makes you forget.

You ended up pulling Jungkook aside after a lecture sometime later on during the week. You spend the entirety of your mini-vacation at home sulking in discomfort anytime you think about what happened with Jungkook, and Jicheol wasn’t making it any easier with his sweet self. It was driving you insane and you felt like you needed to talk about it to feel a little better about your shitty actions.

Jungkook already has a sly little grin on his face when he slips into your office, “Why the pouty little face? You’re the one who called me here,” he folds his arms over his chest as he stands in front of you with amusement written all over his features.

You meet his eyes hesitantly and take a few seconds to gather your thoughts, “Now that you got what you wanted, can we both mutually agree this little thing of yours is over?” What’s scarier than Jungkook’s anger is his silence. It was like trouble was brewing in your face and you didn’t know how to stop or control it. “Don’t look at me like that Jungkook, you knew what was coming. I’m married for fucks sake,” you whisper to him, eyes darting back and forth between him and the door.

“Our thing.” Jungkook loudly corrects making you turn your head in alarm, “last I remember it takes two to tango baby, ‘n you sure as hell didn’t seem done when I fucked you all night long. Or did you forget?” He tilts his head to follow your gaze when you begin avoiding his eyes, “Hm? C’mon sweetheart, tell me how much you enjoyed it—how your little pussy was so good to me and soaked my cock?” He cages you in and yanks your chin up to face him, “C’mon, say it.”

You let out a terrified whimper and try to push him away but Jungkook pins you up against him, “Jungkook–let go,” you turn your face away trying to look away, “get off..!”

“Oh but you loved it baby,” he coos out while watching you fight against him like a child throwing a tantrum, “ ‘s why you gave it up to me so easily,” he pouts mockingly, “rode ‘n fucked me like the little fiend you are sweetheart.” He rasps hotly in your ear, “Gripped my cock nice ‘n tight with that soaked cun—”

You moaned wantonly as he wrapped his lips around a sensitive spot on your neck, through your panic though you began pushing at his shoulders to stop him from leaving a mark, “J-Jungkook, no,” you bite down on your lip with a muffled moan, “fuck—just listen to me dammit!” You grip his face in both hands, “There are rules and boundaries Jungkook, you can’t just fucking waltz in here doing shit because you feel like it alright?! My job, my reputation, my LIFE is on the line and you’re more concerned with getting your dick wet? Do you just not care that my life can potentially—no—be ruined, all because you’re a rich brat who wanted pussy?”

Jungkook recovers from the initial shock when you snapped at him, he cups your face and slams his lips against yours. You pant hotly into his mouth while he spins you both around and guides you onto the desk, papers and pens go flying as Jungkook comes to stand between your parted legs. You’re forced to let him in as he moves his slicked up lips desperately, he kisses with such ferocity it knocks the breath out of you.

“Mmph—Jungkook,” you whisper between harsh breaths and kisses, “stop.” You gasp out as he buries his face in your neck and leaves more filthy opened mouthed kisses.

He pulls away with a soft pant, “You don’t want me to, trust me,” he tilts your chin again so you’re facing him, “I’ll make your life a living hell in point two seconds baby, don’t test me. Unless you want everyone to see how much of a cock slut in bed you are, is that it baby? You want them to see how pretty you look when you’re hanging off this cock? Because I can make it happen.” He darkly whispers.

A sick part of you shivers at the threat when he talks to you in that low tone he uses when he’s angry. Your pussy has a second little heartbeat down there because of him, you can’t even say you’re ashamed anymore. You silently stare because you refuse to give him the satisfaction of replying. Jungkook doesn’t need to hear it though because he’s already leaning in to kiss you more gently than before.

“Don’t need to think,” Jungkook mumbles, “just sit ‘n look pretty for me sweetheart, ‘s all you need to do.” He trails off as his hands slip up your skirt, hooking his fingers around your panties and tugging. They come sliding down to your ankles while Jungkook works his belt open, “Gonna give you what you need,” he trails off.

Your lust filled eyes meet him in a fierce stare down, not once do you look away as he spreads you open and makes himself comfortable between your legs. You hate how easy it is to submit and fall under his control. You were supposed to be the one with authority here, not him. Funny how he turned you putty in his hands each time.

Jungkook fists his cock with slick noises, he’s pushing through your slicked up folds and you feel the head poke at your unclenched leaking hole. There’s a filthy little voice in the back of your head that hisses in excitement chanting a series of ‘yes’ and ‘in’ over and over again. Your cunt’s hungry and desperate to be stretched out by his fat cock.

“.. Just shut up and fuck me.” You find yourself whispering while wrapping your legs around his hips and bringing him closer.

Jungkook forgoes the condom entirely, he taps his cock over your pussy a few times before he’s pushing in with a low hiss. He fills you up inch by inch, everything feels so much better with him going in bare. Your mouth waters at every little bump and curve you feel, your pussy opens right up and molds to fit around him.

Your lips fall open in a silent moan as Jungkook bottoms out in your tight little sopping hole, your rim stretches and hugs his cock nice and snug. It’s a tight fit but you’re in utter bliss right now, and even if you wanted to complain at the small sting you feel when he shifts but you don’t bother to. Jungkook’s not going to listen anyways, he never has.

“There you go,” Jungkook bites on his bottom lip, he keeps you steady with his hands curled around your waist, “open right up for me baby.” He breathes out.

His hips slowly roll forwards, he idly grinds and bumps his hips against yours. You feel some pressure here and there, like your poor pussy’s going to burst but each time he moves you feel him hit a sensitive spot. Your hips jump when the tip nudges into your cervix, just poking like he’s testing the waters or something.

“Jungkook–” you huff, “slow down, hurts.” You try shifting around to see if you’re able to steer his cock away from your cervix.

Jungkook lays a soft apologetic kiss over your shoulder before he’s hoisting you closer, he has your hips tilted at an angle where he’s striking dead on into your oversensitive walls. You moan in relief, biting down on your lip to keep your noises in. You nearly forget that you’re both still on campus, fucking on your desk like it’s some cliche porno.

“Fuck you feel so good,” Jungkook whispers into your ear, he hooks his chin over your shoulder and fucks into you. His hips roll into yours over and over again, slipping in and out of your drenched pussy with ease. You can faintly hear the wet noises start up wondering if your desk will be salvageable by the end of this.

You find yourself holding on to him tightly with your arms loosely wrapped around his shoulders. Your moans threaten to spill out each time he fucks himself in, the tip keeps grazing over a sweet spot repeatedly sending pleasant little shivers down your spine each time. Jungkook doesn’t stick to that languid pace for much, he ends up bucking his hips eagerly and shoving his cock deeper.

“Oh fuck,” he rasps out while hugging your body tighter, “c’mon, make some noise for me baby. Let ‘em know who’s fucking this greedy cunt.” He grits his teeth and slaps his hips into yours with a loud squelching ‘plap’.

“Fuckin’ filthy,” as if on cue your pussy makes another embarassingly loud squelching noise. You’re so fucking wet it’s slipping down between your asscheeks and pooling under you. “And these tits,” he groans and slaps one through your blouse, “such pretty fuckin’ tits on you, wonder how they look all swollen and filled. Maybe I’ll breed this cunt till you catch, it’ll make a nice little surprise for your husband.” He grins wildly.

You whine loud—it’s unintentional (you’d like to think)—the very thought of possibly ending up pregnant sends a sick thrill down your spine. You find letting cries and whimpers slip from your lips, they’re louder and clearer than before. Jungkook smirks knowingly and you know what he’s about to say, but he simply lays you back on the desk and lifts your legs over his shoulders. The angle changes again and your mouth falls open.

“There..!” You throw your head back and groan.

His cock repeatedly punches into your g-spot, you scramble to get a hold of something to keep you grounded. You feel like you’re going crazy with him hammering away at your sore cunt and your impending orgasm bubbling in your lower stomach. Jungkook’s face hovers close and you can feel his hot breaths fanning over you.

“There?” He moans, “Like it when I fuck you stupid huh? Pretty pussy all meant to be mine,” he slows down but keeps his pace brutal, “gonna fill you up baby, you’re lucky I can’t put a baby in you.. Or else.” He darkly mumbles while leaning down to swallow up all your moans and sighs.

Your eyes flutter shut from the strong pleasure, he knocks the breath out of you each time he bottoms out. Your clit throbs pathetically from neglect and you desperately want to reach down to soothe it but Jungkook’s pounding you so good you can’t focus. Your lips part with a needy cry, he uses it as a chance to bite on your bottom lip and swipe his tongue over the seam of your lips.

“C..um, ‘m gonna cum,” you softly whimper while arching into him, “please ‘m so close.”

You wrap your legs tighter around his waist, he quickly falls into you and rolls his hips into yours over and over again. You trap him against you but Jungkook figures out a way to keep moving. Jungkook grinds into you slowly, letting you feel every inch and the girth. This makes your mouth fall open as a shudder runs through your body.

“Fuck..” You begin shaking from pleasure, your arms slip from his shoulders but Jungkook simply hoists you upright into his strong big arms.

You’re caged against his chest while he slowly fucks in and out, you’re so close you just need a tiny little push. If Jungkook could just hit that spot one more time—ohh.. “Jungkook,” you feel a strong tremor pass over you. Your cunt squeezes him tightly, rhythmically clenching and massaging him as you cum all over him and yourself.

Jungkook doesn’t let up no matter how tight you get, he’s groaning and hissing under his breath while whispering the most filthiest fucking praises, “There you go baby, jus’ like that. Go on and make a mess for me, want you dripping my cum out of that loose cunt of yours.”

He cums a few minutes later with a loud moan, you like the feeling of his throbbing cock buried deep inside as he unloads all his pearly white cum into you. You squirm around a few more times but Jungkook ultimately ends up gripping your hip to stop you, “Shit–don’t do that.” He moans painfully.

The two of you pant quietly while trying to catch your breaths. It turns into a slow little make out session you can’t refuse or resist because he’s that sexy post orgasm glow. You’re lips-locked when a knock brings the two of you out of whatever world you were both just in.

You pull back from his lips with a wet noise, panting hard as you try to catch your breath from the brutal fuck just now. “Mrs Gong?” You hear one of your students say.

Jungkook’s still hazy from his orgasm (evident in the way he looks at you all blissed out), he tucks his face in the crook of your neck and quietly moans when you clench around his half-hard cock. He doesn’t say anything thankfully, “I’ll be right out,” you finally manage to say without sounding like you just ran a marathon.

This boy was going to be the death of you.

jungkook : get ready, gonna take you out. wear somethin pretty too

You frown in both annoyance and confusion, when and how did Jungkook get your address? “I don’t even wanna know.” You mumble while shaking your head, with Jungkook there’s no limits to his depravity. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had someone paid to get your information.

You look over at the bedroom door and make sure it’s closed before you sneak to your closet and dial Jungkook, “What the hell do you mean we’re going out?” You mutter while balancing the phone on your shoulder, “I don’t remember little dates being a part of this arrangement.”

“The tongue you got on you,” Jungkook says from the other line, “makes me wonder if I need to stuff it with somethin’ else damn baby. But we’ll save that for another day, today I wanna take you somewhere nice,”

You pulled a sweater from a hanger and paused, “Jungkook what’s the dress code?” You sigh in exasperation, all this talking and he still wasn’t telling you anything. You figured you might as well make the best of it, “Hurry up I still have to call my nanny to come take care of my son, I don’t have all day.”

“Casual, not too casual though. I’ll see you in five.” And with that he hangs up.

“Great,” you sigh while tossing your phone on the bed after shooting the nanny a quick text, “I’ll see you in five, my ass,” you mimic while finding something nice to wear.

The door creaks open and your son Jae comes running in making excited airplane noises, “Where you goin’ mama?” He tilts his head, “Are you going to see aunties for lunch? Ooh, can I come, can I come?” He buzzes in excitement while smiling from ear to ear.

“No baby, mama’s meeting a different friend, a work friend.” You gently correct yourself while surfing through your jeans, “Wanna help me choose an outfit,” you squat to Jae’s level and brush his unruly hair out of his face, “looks like I’m gonna need your eyes for this Jae.”

His eyes widened comically, “Mama but you have your own!” He gasps while covering his face with his tiny hands, “These are my eyes!” He squeals while running out of the room.

You grin deviously and chase after him with a “come back here”. The house is filled with your giggles and Jae’s excited yells and laughter, you end up chasing Jae back to your room as the little boy hides himself under the blankets.

“C’mon, mama wants to look pretty today won’t you help me baby?” You pout while sitting on the bed, “Pretty please with sprinkles and fairies on top?”

Jae pops his head out with a dramatic little sigh, “Fiinee,” you grin triumphantly, “I’m gonna make you look prettier than any other lady out there today.” He smiles toothlessly and runs into your closet.

You end up wearing a pair of light-washed jeans and your cream colored sweatshirt. Jae didn’t know anything about shoes so you slipped on your cozy socks and a pair of brown tasman slippers. Upon Jae’s insistence you applied a little mascara and clear gloss over your lips, “There, is mommy done now?” You ask while spraying some body spray he was holding out to you.

“Done, you look so pretty.” Jae shyly says while hiding his face in your leg, “Is Miss Danielle coming today? I like her a lot, she’s super cool and nice.”

You hum absent-mindedly while putting your phone and wallet in your purse, “Yes she is, mama needs you to be the bestest boy ever okay? I’ll be back around dinner time when daddy’s coming home okay?” You smile sadly, “I’m gonna miss you.”

“Me too,” Jae softly says before the doorbell brings him out of his trance, “I’ll get it, I’ll get it!” He runs off leaving you to your devices.

“That boy.” You shake your head and slip your watch on. You can hear Jae talking with Danielle down in the foyer as you finish getting ready.

Your phone pings and you immediately know who it is, “Danielle,” you greet while passing the girl in a hurry, “thanks for coming last minute you’re a lifesaver.” You sigh in appreciation, “House is yours and if you’re hungry order some delivery for you and Jae okay? I’ll pay you extra if I take too long. If my husband comes home first then you’re free to go.”

Danielle already has Jae in her arms as she smiles sweetly at you, “No problem, you know I like Jae a lot anyways.” She shrugs, “Have fun.”

“Oh I will.” You bitterly mutter, “Bye my loves.” You blow a kiss to your son at the door and head out. Jungkook’s Mercedes is parked right in front of your house and you done nearly sprint over in fear. Your heart quite literally almost falls out of your ass.

“Are you fucking insane?” You spit while slipping into the car, “Jungkook move, oh you just finally fucking lost it didn’t you? Anyone can see you—my neighbors, my son, the nanny!”

Jungkook laughs quietly and brings you in for a messy smooch, “Calm down, we’re leaving right now.”

“No, right now.” You glare, “Move.”

Jungkook’s eyes drop down to your lips in obvious hunger, “Give me a kiss.” You look at him in disbelief and he merely shrugs, “What? You heard me.” He’s really not playing around because he doesn’t budge or make a move to shift gears or anything.

You nervously look around the area before leaning over to quickly kiss him, “There.”

“Another one.” He calmly replies despite your whining and the face you make. He’s serious then, you think while curling a hand behind the back of his neck and pulling his face closer to yours.

Your lips meet in a hot kiss, you find yourself putting a little more effort into it than most times he’s kissed you. Jungkook’s a good kisser you won’t lie/deny, if anything you felt shittier for admitting that you enjoyed kisses with him. You gently bite down on his bottom lip in a mix of arousal and curiosity.

Jungkook lets out a quiet groan and leans more into it to deepen the kiss. “No more,” you whisper when you pull away to catch your breath, “I’m serious.” You softly say albeit a bit more gentle and less hostile.

“Okay.” He pulls away and starts the car. His hand comes over to settle on your thigh, fitting so easily like you were made for him.

You slump in your seat and turn your head to watch your home slowly disappear as Jungkook pulls out of the neighborhood. If you look closely though, you won’t miss the awe-struck looking nanny standing there looking from the living room window.

“Are you okay? What are you looking at?” Jae asks.

“Nothing,” Danielle mumbles as she shakes her head, “let’s watch tv yeah?” There’s no way she just caught her boss kissing someone who was obviously not her husband.

“How was your day?” You find yourself looking up from the bowl of chips you’re having when Jicheol suddenly talks to you, “Dani told me you had a last minute meeting with a coworker?” He hums while unbuttoning his dress shirt slowly, “y/n?”

Your focus shifts back onto Jicheol after momentarily spacing out, “It was good,” you mumble and try not to think about earlier when Jungkook was buried balls deep fucking you over the hood of the car, “Had some lunch and then we went for like a nature walk..of some sorts.” You trail off dumbly.

Jicheol raises a brow, “Some sorts..?” He tilts his head with confusion written all over his face.

“Fuck, Jungkook!”

“Right there..!”

“Mmmh..yes,”

“Com–coming!”

You freeze mid-chip and peer over at your husband, “Yeah..some sort,” you crack a tiny smile to break the tension, “that’s not important though,” you set the bowl off to the side somewhere, “how was your day?” You smile prettily.

Jicheol (thankfully) takes the bait, he has a smile painted over his handsome face, “Boring, I had a few meetings here and there and then some paperwork to file.” He sighs heavily and falls dramatically on the bed next to you, “You busy tomorrow?” He quietly asks while poking your side.

“Depends,” you softly whisper and lean down to press gentle kisses over his lips, “what are we doing?” You blow against his lips gently, cracking a smile when Jicheol hooks a hand around the back of your neck, “Hm?”

Jicheol doesn’t reply and instead brushes his lips over yours, “C’mere,” he quietly murmurs, “on my lap sweetheart.” You can feel his big hands over the small of your back, he guides you over so that you straddle him.

You bite your lip and watch Jicheol closely, the excitement builds up quickly because something about your husband drove you wild. Jicheol didn’t even have to try to get you in the mood, god bless for fine men like himself. You lean down to attach your lips to his rather eagerly, if you both could just skip the foreplay—

“Babe,” Jicheol pauses when your phone begins to ring loudly. You let out a deep sigh and hesitantly pull away from him looking mildly annoyed. His sharp eyes stay on you while you reach around for your phone and check who it is. “Who’s calling?”

‘Great’ you think while seeing the caller ID, “No one, probably spam.” You say through gritted teeth while turning your phone off ALL the way, “Don’t worry about it,” you mumble while giving him quick pecks, “ ‘s not important baby.” You run your hands along the planes of his chiseled chest and toned stomach.

Jicheol uses his hold on you to switch your positions, you giggle up at him when your head lands on the soft pillows, “What’s so funny, hm.” He buries his face in the side of your neck and sucks marks into your unblemished skin.

Your lips part and you bury your fingers in his hair, “Nothin’,” you lick your lips as you catch your phone from the corner of your eye, “nothing at all.” You say as his lips find yours and the two of you sink into the sheets.

The cold morning air brushes against your cold cheeks fiercely, only fueling your adrenaline to keep jogging despite your lungs begging otherwise. You liked morning jogs a lot, helped clear your mind and get you away from everything for a bit. Besides, the trail you took was local and not many people came out at this hour.

“Ah shit.” You whisper tiredly while pausing in your tracks to pick up your fallen AirPod. You take a minute to inspect it and clean the earbud of any dirt and grime it might’ve got from the floor.

You hear footsteps nearby but you assume it’s another runner (while there weren’t many, it wasn’t rare either). You move off the trail to get out of the way when suddenly the steps stop and a strong pair of arms wraps around your middle. You yell out in surprise and turn your head to see who your attacker is.

“Jungkook..?” You breathlessly ask, “You scared me, what the hell is wrong with you?!” You smack his chest a few times.

Jungkook has this scary look on his face but what’s new? This spoilt brat was always pissy about something so you weren’t phased, “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Don’t fuckin’ do that again.” He glares, “You intentionally ignored me for one,” he takes a step forward, “and then two, come to my surprise baby you turned your phone off. The fuck is that about?” He growls.

You shake your head and sigh in disbelief, “Really? You’re crying about me turning my phone off? So what, am I supposed to ask you for permission now? Can’t even let my phone die without you freaking out?”

Jungkook snatches your wrist and tugs you towards him, “Don’t fucking give me that,” he whispers dangerously low, “I’m not a fucking moron like you think I am.”

“Nobody said that.” You tug on your wrist, “Now let me go, someone’s gonna see you and I have to get back home.” Jungkook’s about to answer when he suddenly pauses, staring at something. You frown in confusion and look, “What?” You follow his eyes and you go still.

The marks.

You really done it now. “Jungkook…” You hesitantly meet his eyes and wish you never had. He looks so fucking pissed you don’t know whether to cry or run away.

The fear kicks in and you take a step back from him. Jungkook pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue and slowly nods his head, “I see..seems like you were too busy being a little cockslut hangin’ off someone else’s cock. Tell me was it good?” He darkly mumbles, “Did he fuck you better than I did? Did he have your pussy droolin’ and creaming around his cock like you do to mine? He make you scream like I do baby?” He envelops your entire throat in his hand, not gripping but rather just holding you in place.

“I’ll scream.” You whisper shakily.

“Go ahead,” Jungkook laughs in your face, “you do it plenty so I don’t see the difference now.” Your face burns with humiliation and you turn your face away from him, “Oh don’t give me that,” he mock-pouts, “c’mon baby look at me.” He grips your cheeks between his fingers as he squeezes them together and makes your pouty lips form a tiny little peak that he smooches.

“Jungkook please,” you softly whine, “not here, someone’s gonna see.”

“You’re right,” he mumbles while staring at the dark hickeys Jicheol left on you, “I know a better place.” You follow his eyes and look over to see that he’s set his sights on your home. Immediately you turn to protest but Jungkook lifts a finger over your lips, “Ah-ah, just do as I fuckin’ say.”

You’re walking on pins and needles right now, today might just be the day your entire world ends up ruined. You can’t help the way your eyes flicker over to the laundry room, the anxiety claws at your insides and you’re desperate for any escape. After Jungkook had demanded you let him into your home things started piling one after the other.

First it was Jicheol who had decided to come early from work (out of all days you bitterly think), and then you had Danielle over helping with Jae. How the hell are you planning on explaining anything if Jae or Danielle accidentally enter the laundry room and see Jungkook in there? This isn’t a “oh, my mistake” situation, there’s no coming back from this once everything begins to surface.

You shudder just thinking about it, “Danielle–honey, do you mind taking Jae out to the park for a bit? I got a lot on my mind right now and I think I’m gonna just cook dinner or something to get my head out of the clouds. I’d prefer if Jae wasn’t in the house though.”

Danielle stops coloring the page Jae had handed her as she tilts her head up to meet your eyes, “Oh, sure. Do you want me to pack him something or will we be coming back early?” She stands to her feet while dusting off her jeans.

“Pack a few snacks,” you look over at the closed double doors and nervously bite your lip, “actually here, just take this and bring me back the change—or don’t. Just head out before it gets dark.” You say while ushering her and Jae out.

Danielle doesn’t comment on your jittery behavior, she simply waves bye and takes the little boy with her down the street to the local park. Now you just have to find a way to keep Jicheol occupied. “Jicheol? Baby do you mind stopping by the store and bringing me a few things?” You loudly call out.

Jungkook’s long made himself at home in your kitchen, he waves his hand with a teasing smirk on his face. “Fuck you,” you mouth while passing the kitchen to head upstairs where Jicheol was probably at, “Jicheol baby can you run to the store?” You sound out of breath by the time you reach the top, Jicheol’s standing in the doorway in his loungewear.

“Sure, you got a list or something?” He hums.

“Uh yeah, I wrote it down but I forgot where I slipped the note. Just go, I’ll send it to you when you’re on your way yeah?” You try to appear as calm as possible but the devil downstairs wouldn’t let you.

Jicheol looks at you weirdly but ends up nodding anyway, “Okay well, you do that.” He slips past you, “I’ll call you if you don’t send the list by the time I get there.” He begins descending downstairs, “By the way, did the neighbors get a new car? I swear I keep seeing that same Mercedes up and down the street.”

You freeze in terror and clench your fists tightly, “..Oh really? I didn’t know either,” you slip downstairs and turn the corner to see Jicheol standing in the kitchen while drinking a glass of water you don’t remember seeing him or anyone for that matter set out.

“Maybe you should get going before it gets late. I kinda need the things for the dinner I’m making.” You nervously smile.

“You tryin’ to get rid of me now?” Jicheol laughs, “So jittery baby, what’s got you all fired up hm?” He tucks you into his arms and rocks side to side, “Did something happen baby?” He softly says in your ear.

“No,” you mumble back, “was planning a surprise.”

Jicheol nods slowly, “Okay, I’ll be back then my love. I can’t wait to see what you got planned.” He winks and parts from you. You close your eyes and wait for Jicheol to leave, you can hear him getting his keys and a few other trinkets of his. Any minute now..

. . .

“Jicheol?” You call out when you don’t hear the front door open or close, “Is everything okay?”

You end up stepping out to go see what was happening, instead you got a fat load of Jungkook carrying your unconscious husband away to the living room, “Jungkook?! What did you do? What the fuck did you do?!” You begin panicking, pacing back and forth throughout the room, “Fucking hell, are you some sort of deranged psycho!”

“Relax,” Jungkook rolls his eyes, “I drugged him, well been drugging him with the water I left out.” He snickers and tosses Jicheol over the couch, “Fuck he’s heavy,” he cracks his back and rolls his muscles, “baby, baby,” he raises his hand, “you’re stressin’ me the fuck out with all your walking and pacing.”

“Well excuse me, my husband is drugged and passed out in front of me, but sure I’ll keep it down for you Mr Jeon, anything else?”

Jungkook lazily grins, “You can be as loouuud as you want, I’m not complaining.” He raises his hands in surrender, “But you know what, there is something you can do for me.” He purrs low, “Come here.”

Your eyes widen knowingly and you shake your head, “No, fuck no. We can go to the room or anywhere but not here—not in front of him.” You hiss.

“I don’t really give a fuck.” Jungkook tugs you close, “Awake or asleep, I’ll fuck you whenever and however the fuck I want.” His hot breath ghosts over the side of your neck, “I know that deep down—you love this, gettin’ fucked silly in front of your husband, don’t you wanna show him how well you take my cock?” He whispers.

Your eyes slip shut in both arousal and horror, “No.”

“Liar.” Jungkook bites down on your earlobe teasingly, “Explain this,” he suddenly thrusts a hand into your sweatpants. His cold fingers cup you through your panties, heavy palm sitting right under your pulsing heat. “Hm?”

“J-Jungkook, no,” you fight against his grip and squirm around, “listen to me dammit!” You sob in frustration as all the fight begins to slowly leave your body, ending with you melting into a mush of goo.

Jungkook coos softly, “Baby needs a cock in her? Is that it?” He cages you in between him and the coffee table the back of your knees bumps into, “C’mon tell me, you know I like hearing filthy things leave that pretty little mouth.” He tilts you by the chin to face him, “Look at me,” he patiently hums.

Your eyes flutter open to the bleary sight of Jungkook, “Just get it over with,” you blink tears away, “please Jungkook.”

He doesn’t say anything when he slides his lips on yours, his hand cups the side of your face to hold you perfectly still and pliant in his hands. Your face scrunches cutely and you find yourself trying to guide him away from the living room with hands over his abdomen. However a frown makes its way to your face when you notice he doesn’t budge.

“We’re not going anywhere sweetheart,” he calmly says after pulling apart with a string of spit connecting your messy lips, “but you already knew that, why play dumb?” He talks to you like he’s talking to a child.

You make a noise of protest but it dies down when Jungkook begins moving. He guides you over to the armrest of the sofa Jicheol’s passed out on. Your heart slams in your chest violently like it’s about to burst. Jicheol’s sleeping face is centimeters away from yours making it all the more horrifying.

Jungkook steps behind your bent form, he runs his hands over your sides and thighs with a pleased sigh. He slips his hands into your sweats, taking his sweet time in massaging your hips and the swells of your ass cheeks. You end up biting your lip and trying not to squirm away from his unwanted touches.

“Jesus,” he mutters under his breath when he tugs your sweatpants down and sees the pretty undies you had on under, “well happy fuckin’ birthday to me.” He whistles and runs his palm over the waistband, hooking his fingers in and pulling until the band snapped back in place.

You yelped and jolted from the stinging sensation you felt in your hip, he finally decided to grant some mercy and tugged the panties down your thighs. They dropped around your ankles alongside your sweatpants leaving your cunt out in the open for Jungkook. By now you’re sure some wetness had built up between your sticky dewy folds, they felt moist and drenched.

“Such a little liar,” he smacks your drooling cunt, sending you reeling over the couch with a cry of shock. Your face is dangerously close to Jicheol’s, you catch yourself from letting out another yell when Jungkook spanks you again. The pain sparks a heat inside of you.

“If I woulda known this slutty cunt drips at the thought of being fucked infront of your husband, I would’ve fucked you a long time ago baby.” He chuckles breathily and rubs over your tender pussy. You moan in protest from the “soothing” touch, he has to give you a warning pinch when your squirming becomes tedious, “Behave.”

Jungkook slips his fingers between your folds, parting them in a ‘v’ as he strokes over your entire pussy. A delicious shiver passes over you when his fingers brush over your slippery clit. The touch is enough to make your swollen bud throb with anticipation and need. You bite a whiny moan and let your head hang in slight disappointment. Jungkook isn’t deterred though, he keeps brushing over your clit never quite touching it.

“Drippin’ already.” Jungkook murmurs while burying his face in your neck, “head up baby, want him to see the slutty little faces you make while getting fucked stupid.” He shallowly dips his fingers into your sopping hole with a lewd squelch. “Hear that?” He purrs low, “filthy already.”

Your face grows hot with shame but Jungkook doesn’t stop swirling his fingertip around, he wipes his finger clean in your inner thigh, leaving behind a dollop of slick smeared all over. He shuffles behind you until the head of his weeping cock slides through the mess between your legs. His cock comes poking out through your thighs as he slips himself between your squishy wet folds.

He slowly rolls his hips and lets his cock slide over your mound again and again. The underside of his shaft rubs against your clit giving it the much needed friction you were craving. “Mmh,” your thighs squeeze together and you push your hips back, plush ass meeting his pelvis with a messy smack.

“Needy little thing,” Jungkook muses and steers you forward with a hand over your back, “gonna fuck it out of you though—he may have married you but this cunt still belongs to me at the end of the day.” He suddenly slams his hips forward, instantly filling you with a loud splat as his balls collide with your folds, “Mine to fuck, mine to breed, mine to claim.” He groans.

Your mouth falls open and you shudder, his cock from this angle somehow makes you feel fuller and more stretched out. Your rim hugs his cunt tightly and you can feel the slight tug on your perineum when he backstrokes. Another lewd “uhn” leaves you when he drives his cock right back in, the tip pokes your cervix but it’s nothing too serious or painful.

“Let me hear you,” Jungkook bites his lower lip and rolls his hips faster, “let your husband hear how you—really—like to get fucked.” He huffs under his breath and brings the hem of his shirt up to his mouth, biting it so he can see his cock disappear into your ruined cunt over and over.

Your ass ripples with every thrust and there’s a low smacking noise, he’s punching more and more moans from your throat. It’s harder to keep them in when he’s rubbing those spots so good. His cock bumps into your g-spot occasionally but Jungkook wants to drag it out so he doesn’t hit it yet. Your pussy clenches around him drawing a hiss from him as his fingertips dig into your hips.

Jungkook slams forward and sends you toppling over the armrest a little with your feet dangling a few inches from the floor. You’re jostled closer to Jicheol and hold back a terrified scream you almost let out. Jungkook’s losing control and the pace is sending you flying towards your husband, one wrong move and you’re going to topple on top of Jicheol.

“J-Jungkook slow down,” you mewl, “ ‘m gonna fall..!” You gasp, he hits your g-spot head on with vigor. When he sees the tremor that wracks your smaller frame he starts pounding into that spot wildly.

Your cries are clear as day, the wet smacking is thundering and the couch rattles loudly over the wooden flooring. You scramble to find a good grip to keep yourself steady while you get the pounding of a lifetime. His vicious thrusts send you forward but his firm grip keeps you speared right on his cock. You chant Jungkook’s name which only spurs him on as he fucks you like a madman.

Jungkook lets the hem of his shirt go and trails a hand up to twist in your hair, “Fuckin’ slut—pussy’s mine ‘n mine only. Let’s leave him a nice little present for when he wakes up baby, yeah? Gonna fuck this slutty pussy on him even with my cum dripping from it? Least you’ll be all loose ‘n wet for him,” he smirks, “you’d like that wouldn’t you? Maybe we should let him join next time, we’ll fuck all your little holes and keep ‘em filled with our cock.”

You shamelessly moan at that and tilt your head back for him without having to be asked. He lets out a pleased moan and leans down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss, “One cock not enough anymore?” He rubs your ass with his other hand and lands a hard slap over it, “Hm?”

“N-No,” you hiccup with teary eyes, “need t-to cum,” you gasp, “soo close..mmh..”

“Cum,” Jungkook whispers, “go on,” he brings a hand down between your sticky thighs and smacks your clit with two fingers.

The sting sends you over the edge with a loud cry spilling from your lips. You shake from the intensity and slump over with a tired moan. Jungkook doesn’t care that you came already because he keeps pumping his cock in and out of your, using your cunt for his pleasure.

He yanks you back like a ragdoll and wraps his hand around your throat tightly, “Next time think twice about lettin’ him mark you,” he growls in your ear, “or else drugging won’t be the thing I do.” He lets you go carelessly and grinds his cock deep, pelvis pressed tightly to your ass.

Your lips part silently in a ‘o’ as you shudder, a mini-orgasm takes you by surprise and you’d rather not think it’s because of what he said just now.. Surely not right? Right..

Jungkook moans softly as your pussy hugs his cock nice and snug. He fills you spurt after spurt with cum, not bothering to pull out right away. In fact he grinds his hips in tiny motions to milk his orgasm out, sighs of relief slipping from his lips. The room feels hot and you’re pretty sure the stench of sweat and sex is pungent in the air.

“Jungkook,” you shakily murmur while pushing back, “c’mon, it’s not funny anymore let me up.” You softly plead while looking back at him with wide glossed over puppy eyes.

Clean-up is a quiet ordeal, Jungkook looks smug when you pass by with shaky legs. He doesn’t miss the chance to smack your ass, to which you fiercely glare at him as you disappear to quickly change. When you emerge in a comfy home outfit you stand in the doorway pointing to the front door.

“Out.” You glare, “Not in my house Jungkook, this is the first and last time we do this. You hear me?” You’re not entirely sure he’s listening but you say it anyway. This was not only risky as hell but stupid too, everything was at stake (even if the adrenaline was crazy).

“Kiss,” Jungkook mumbles with a grin as he finishes slipping his coat back on, “c’mon before I go baby.”

You stare at him unimpressed and walk over to press a gentle kiss over his lips. Of course he wraps his hands around your waist and tugs you closer to him, kissing Jungkook was never a quick ordeal. Nothing was ever quick with him. “Okay,” you push at his chest gently, “enough. My kid and nanny are coming home any minute now, get out.” You huff.

“Yeah, yeah, you weren’t saying that when I fucked your brains out–” His laugh is cut off when he pauses to stare down the hall in amusement, “Looks like we have a audience baby.” He grins.

Your head whips to see Danielle standing in the kitchen doorway, she looks shocked and disturbed. Jae’s nowhere insight but your heart still drops to your ass, “D-Danielle.” You’re going to fucking lose it right now.

She takes a step back and looks at Jungkook with both fear and nervousness, “T-The front door was l-locked so we came through the b-back.”

“Dani–honey wait,” you stretch your hand out to her but she’s already running. You can hear Jae in the pantry loudly asking where the applesauce pouches are at. You look at Jungkook with fear in your eyes, “Jungkook—s-she..s-she knows!” You quiver and hold back a sob.

Jungkook cups your face in his hands, “Don’t cry sweetheart, I’ll fix it yeah?” He hums, “Don’t worry that pretty little head, everything’s gonna be fine.” He kisses your cheeks and wipes your tears with his thumbs, “Smile for me—yeahhh, there you go pretty girl.” He grins, “I’ll handle it.”

Jungkook blows the smoke out from his lips, he crushes the cigarette under his boot and clicks his tongue in annoyance, “Shit,” he mutters and digs around his pocket for his phone, “hello?” He answers with his head tilted back as he watches the tiny snowflakes fall around him.

“Did you handle it?”

“I did,” Jungkook chuckles, “what, not gonna ask if I’m tired? It was a lot of work baby, don’t you think I deserve a present?” His eyes flicker down briefly but he goes back to snow watching.

“...Thank you.”

“Oh you will be thanking me later, but for now I got a lot of things to attend to so I’ll see you around baby. Don’t get too comfy, I was thinking about heading to London just the two of us. I’m sure that pretty brain of yours can come up with somethin’ to tell him, bye baby.” He smirks and hangs up before you can get a word in.

He stands in silence just staring at the lump in front of him. “Poor kid, shit luck and shit life.” He grunts and lights another cigarette, “..Gotta get the cleaners ‘n shit—fuck it’s a mess.” He sighs and dials another number, “Hello?” He loudly says, “Round up the cleaning team—no it’s only one, might be two but for today it’s one. Teen, the baby-sitter.” He nudges his foot against the stiff limbs laying in the snow.

“I’ll triple the payment if you help me eliminate a certain someone..yeah, spring cleaning. Oh, and don’t tell father about this. He’ll be real sad to know it happened..again..”

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#bts #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut

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bunny-jpeg · 4 months ago

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sponsors

max verstappen - team principal au

cw: smut/pwp, team principal au, driver!reader, bikinis, age gap (20/45), yachts, teasing, protective!max, objectification/misogyny, max makes it all better, praise (kink), power dynamics

a/n: happy birthday max verstappen and happy ten years at formula one!

a big part of formula one was to get sponsors, very few people could pay for a team on their own. thus, the hefty logos across the racer's jackets. and while teams like ferrari had decades long sponsors, a new team like verstappen racing had to get what they could get.

and that max having to put his best media smile on and dazzle any prospective sponsors. but, max also needed your help. so when he asked you join him on his boat during the mid-season break you happily smiled and said, "of course."

you learned early on that a lot of men liked you because you were young, pretty and knew a lot about cars. but, you never thought that it would get to this level. while you thought you'd be sitting beside him over drinks.

not the one serving them. in a bikini.

"mister verstappen." you said as you picked up the bikini from the bed in one of the rooms on the boat. it was white and looked like it would cover very less.

max came up behind you and placed his hands on your hips, "i know... a little unconventional. i promise, i'm not whoring you out. just serve some drinks and that'll be it."

"it feels degrading."

max kissed your neck and replied, "don't worry. no one will try to touch you. i'll make sure of that." while he wanted the sponsors, you were still his. so he'd make sure that you were protected, that was a promise.

you turned your head to look at him and he kissed your forehead. before you went for his lips. you held onto the bikini tighter, "will this be good for the team?"

max nodded, "of course, it means we can get those upgrades for the second half of the season. also their company will make us seem more legitimate."

"then let's do it." then smiled at your boss, a little more assured. you could handle the leering, you were used to it. but with a promise from max about your safety, you felt more assured that it'll all work out.

a white bikini with your hair back a little, paired with heeled sandals and the chain around your neck that had max's logo on it. you were more quiet than usual, letting your boss talk business. you knew these men were from italy, and while they eyed you while you were at the bar getting their drinks, you kept any words to yourself.

this was business, as max once told you. you raced, he did all the behind the scenes work. that was what a team principal did. you brought the drinks over on a platter and gave max's his first.

you bent over to be closer to your boss and he patted your face with his rough hand which made you smile. he whispered in your ear, "good job, did you make the drink a little stronger for them?"

you looked at him and smiled. you looked almost proud of yourself. max had to plaster a smile on his face to keep it together. you were eye candy right now, and even max was feeling the effects of it. when you pulled away, and tried to give the other drinks to the men across from max, one of them stuck their foot out a little bit.

you tripped, but didn't spill a drop of liquor on the floor. you caught yourself even in the heels and made a loud yelp noise.

"she's a better server than a driver." one of the men spoke in italian. impressed that you didn't see the drinks get spilled. he did almost see your ass spill out of the bottom of the swim suit.

max's eyes stayed on you as you tried to compose yourself. he could tell that almost tumble made you a little shaky, "i assure you, she is a lot better on the track." he smiled.

"is she... for sale tonight?" the other man asked as you handed him his drink. max knew you didn't speak italian, so you had no idea what was being said about you. the man continued, "she's beautiful and would be a fairly good ride for the evening. what do you say mister verstappen?"

max relaxed against his seat and chuckled, "my drivers are not whores." then took a sip of his drink then looked to you. he said in english, "she is one of the best racers i know." and you looked at him.

you beamed at your boss as you held the platter to your chest. when you went to put it back at the bar and come back to the three men, max adjusted his posture and allowed you room to sit on his lap. you took it as him eager to be close to you, but in reality he was staking an ownership.

no, max wasn't going to whore you out to these businessmen. firstly, he had too much respect for you, and secondly, you were already his.

"i do not like when those touch what is mine." he spoke in italian as he got an arm around your waist, "she is a driver for verstappen racing, not a street walker. do not refer to her as such."

one of the businessmen laughed, "always stubborn, verstappen. but i am impressed that you managed to find someone so young. look at how she is in your lap. trained like a puppy."

you looked to max in the hope he'd translate, but instead he rubbed your head. you rested up against. he had his drink and chatted, he shifted the topic from the beautiful woman in his lap.

but yet, the curl of jealousy stayed in max's gut. he hid it well and when the other men tried to make comments, he brushed them off. he already made his position known. even if throughout the afternoon, he wanted to punch these men in the face. but, that wouldn't look good on him. and it would scare you. you've seen max get loud during races, but never, even get violent.

he kept himself composed through two gin and tonics that you happily served to him. but when he waved the men off the boat at the end of the afternoon with a promise of a healthy sponsor contract, max's gazed turned to you.

these men were talking about the entire afternoon like you were a piece of meat on sale. and maybe max invited it by dressing you up like that. but, it still didn't make it right. max soon had his arm around you and you looked up at him with a smile.

he kissed you on the lips and pulled you closer to him. "you did so well." he said before he gave you another kiss, "but i want you out of this now. i think this will be for my eyes from now on." his hand dropped to your ass where he gave is a good squeeze.

you both ended up in the bedroom once more, your kicked those stupid sandals off and before you could get the bikini off. he stopped you. you looked at him and he looked back at you.

"i want to take it off."

take it off of you was like unwrapping a gift, your skin warmed from the afternoon sun as you smiled at him warmly. oh, you were divine. but, he bet you knew that. he got you naked save for the necklace.

you laid out on the bed and smiled at him, "we did good today."

he took off his button up shirt and took it off his shoulders. he could feel your hungry gaze on him as he got undressed. he smiled a little, "you did excellent." once he was naked, he got into bed with you and took your face in his hands, then pulled you in for a searing kiss.

you squirmed against him a little before you melted a little in his touch. your heart beat picked up and you moaned against his lips. you were so naked and vulnerable for him.

"my prize driver." he remarked as he pushed hair out of your face and chuckled, "you are perfect. turning heads wherever you go." he laughed a little, "you make me proud."

and you felt something bloom in your chest as you said, "thank you sir." then yelped when he got on top of you and rested on his heels. his cock stood at proper attention.

he thought about how he took your virginity. you had admitted one night that you had never slept with someone before and your best friend was a rabbit in your suitcase. so even now, as he rubbed his cock up against against your wet slit, it still excited him.

of course he wasn't going to whore you out, not when the only cock you had was his. he took you by the hips and then guided his cock into your sweet sex. he shuddered a little as he pushed all the way in.

you really were the prettiest thing at the paddock, with your darling smile and cute laugh. you knew how to have a good time and while you were stubborn at times, you melted into your boss' grasp like honey. you were painfully sweet, even when max told you to put on your winning face before you raced. max was fortunate that he got a hold of you before anyone else.

"you did so good for me, schat." he spoke to you softly as he held onto your highs and rutted against you, "you played the part so well. i hate what those men said about you. they treated you like meat, took everything in me to not kill them."

you pouted a little as you held onto the covers under you, "what did they say about me?" you knew the conversation was animated, but you could only pick up a few words. but their gazes on you were intense.

max pushed into you further, making you rest on your tailbone, "they're dogs, my little racer." he said with hate in his tone, "they're dogs who deserve nothing. for men that rich, they are stupid. they should know that you're mine."

"did they want to fuck me?" you asked as you tried to reach for his shoulders. his cock hit against the softest parts of you and your back arched a little from the feeling.

max nodded, "but, i'd never let them do that." he assured you, "no, no, no, never. that was why you were so close to me for most of the afternoon. i didn't want them alone with you."

you looked at him and nodded, "my hero."

max smiled a little as he leaned forward, hiking your hips up more to hit at just the right angle. his lips captured yours as you moaned against the feeling. it all felt perfect. and while you felt a little objectified, it was hard to do so when max made sure that you felt special. that you were more than just a sex object.

"you did good." he said, "you did excellent. thank you for putting up with them. i promise i won't make you do that again." he kissed at your jaw with love, "no one can touch you the way i can. alright? you're mine."

you nodded, "of course, sir. always sir!" you held onto him a little tighter as the pleasure swarmed your gut. the kissed got hotter as your bodies moved together. you didn't realize what max meant by being 'his', you thought simply it was that you were part of his team. that sex was just an added bonus.

but that wasn't what max meant, he wanted you in every way he could have you. you were the subject of his fantasies, he had seen you in every way a man could. the dinners he took you out to, the better car he put you in. the way he held your lower back while you walked through the paddock. you assumed it was because you were a good driver! not that max wanted you carnally. silly little driver.

"you're so special." he said, "you knew how to turn heads and make anyone fall in love with you." he was talking like he hadn't staked a claim on you. like he hadn't taken you under his wing to be the best driver you could be. you were cute, sweet, max didn't want any bad men to hurt you.

you whimpered against his movements, getting louder. but thankfully no one could hear you. you knew of the rumour mill surrounding you and max. what people had said both in the tabloids and in the garage. it wasn't hard to draw conclusions when max was constantly with you, his hands on you that could be seen as romantic. but, when others asked about your relationship with max verstappen, you simply smiled and said, "he's the best boss ever."

even when he was bruising your sweet pussy. his cock nudging up against your g-spot which made you whimper and squirm. it was cute, you were cute. most team principals didn't bed their drivers daily, but there were always exceptions.

"please, sir." you said, "it feels good!" you clung to him a little tighter and he responded with heavy kisses.

max could feel his heart hammering in his chest. he could feel your nails into his shoulders as you held onto him. his cock was perfect inside of you. he knew if he got your knocked up by next week, there would be no surprises. except maybe for you. even though he frequently finished inside of you. you loved the feeling and who was max to deny his superstar.

he felt something run up his spine as he continued to move against you. when he broke the kiss and looked at you with those blue eyes of him. he soaked in the sight of you, on the verge of climax.

his beautiful driver.

with a few more heavy thrusts of his hips, you squirmed further and climaxed around his cock. you clenched onto him and almost bit into his strong shoulder as you felt your heart beat pick up. a strained moan left you lips before you relaxed on the bed.

max drank in that sight, he kissed your cheek and said, "perfect. like always." because he pushed you up further, almost bending you in half to really work his cock into you. even with the dull throb in his knee (which made him briefly think about the age gap), he continued to bully his cock into you.

it didn't take long before he finished inside of you as well. he tensed up for a moment as he held onto your hips. he hissed through grit teeth as the pleasure came down on him. only you could make him lose control like that.

"good girl." he said as he put your bottom half back down on the bed and pulled out of you. you laid out in a heated mess on the bed and he laid down beside you.

he kissed your neck and shoulder as you settled down. he praised your silently with kissed along your heated skin. next time he wouldn't put you in that bikini, but if it was just you two on the boat. then maybe he'd put you in it for his eyes only.

by the time the season started up again, you were all smiles with a new logo on your uniform. the updates to the car were made to both yours and your teammates. and when you held the trophy over your head for the following grand prix, max couldn't help but beam as he clapped.

"we did it, sir!" you chirped as you pulled him into a hug. your joy at winning warmed him, just as you were going to warm his cock come evening as a thank you for getting you closer to the wdc. <3

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 4 months ago

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In the Wake of Silence

Aemond x unnamed wife | HOTD Big Bang

Summary: Aemond and his wife endure a loveless, arranged marriage. His wife, haunted by bearing witness to the events of Blood and Cheese, seeks respect and support from her indifferent husband. The Prince, troubled with his own demons that triggered the Dance, struggles to meet her basic needs. Political intrigue and personal grief threaten to tear them apart, but his wife demands recognition and partnership, a fraught path, hoping to find respect where love has failed. | Word Count: 8.8k~ | Warnings: angst, child death, spoilers for hotd s2 ep 1, dub-con, mentions of miscarriage, canon-typical violence/misogyny

A/N: my submission for this year's HOTD Big Bang! Thank you to the lovely @ewanmitchellcrumbs for the artwork, and for organising the event alongisde @emilykaldwen. Please do show all the love for other lovely writers/artists over @hotd-bigbang, you're all in for a treat!

The first light of dawn barely touched the horizon as Aemond Targaryen slipped back into the Red Keep. His movements were stealthy and deliberate, the echoes of his footfalls swallowed by the cold stone corridors. The scent of the brothel, flesh and sweat, still clung to him, a reminder of the night’s escape from the relentless pressures of court and marriage.

As he approached his chambers, the atmosphere within the Keep struck him as strange. It was too noisy, too chaotic for the early hour. The usual stillness of the dawn was replaced by the frantic rustling of armoured feet and the distant, muffled cries of distress.

Turning a corner, Aemond's sharp gaze took in a disturbing scene. Members of the Kingsguard were dragging servants and courtiers from their rooms, shouting orders and spreading panic. The confusion and terror were palpable, a stark contrast to the serene darkness he had left behind.

"What in the Seven Hells is happening?" he muttered to himself, quickening his pace.

Aemond's mind raced, trying to piece together the reason for such commotion. He rounded another corner and saw more guards, their expressions grim and unyielding as they secured the doors of the royal nursery. His heart skipped a beat, an inexplicable sense of dread washing over him.

His steps became more urgent, the clamour growing louder as he neared his chambers.

He pushed open the doors and immediately noticed something was amiss. A draught hit his face, a wall he had never known was in fact a doorway was standing ajar. His eye scanned the room, taking in the disorder. His belongings had been disturbed, gold coins taken haphazardly from the table. Papers were scattered, and the lingering scent of unfamiliar presence clung to the air. Something rancid.

His expression remained impassive as he made his way through the halls. Kingsguard rushed by him, towards Helaena’s chambers as well as maidservants with newly washed blankets. When he reached his mother’s chambers, Ser Criston gave him a grave look, but stepped aside. Inside, his mother was bent over her table, her long chestnut hair falling in waves either side of her face to hide her moist eyes and sheer exhaustion. His grandfather, Otto, was seated, his spine as straight as his face.

At the sight of him, his mother paused, her eyes filling with a mix of relief and fear.

“Aemond,” Alicent began, her voice trembling.

His eye flickered about the room, a habit, taking in the darkness that lay within her chambers, in his blind spot the drapes still pulled tight to push out the sun, the rumpled bed sheets.

“Mother,” he answered, “what has happened? My wife–”

Alicent’s face paled at the thought of having to revisit the hellish night she had only just left behind. “They came in the night. For Helaena’s boy…” she trailed off, “Jaehaerys is dead.”

Aemond’s blood ran cold, the weight of her words sinking in. His mind flashed back to his ransacked chambers and the passage he had found ajar. A passage even he had not known existed.

They had come looking for him.

And when they could not find him…

“And my wife?”

Alicent wiped her cheeks gently, inhaling as if to draw strength, “she was there, with Helaena and the children…”

The realisation hit Aemond like a blow. The assassins had been mere steps away from her. The thought of his wife in such proximity to danger, witnessing the horror of Jaehaerys’ murder, was almost too much to bear. The indifference he had maintained toward her now felt like a cruel and taunting weight.

“We must not be shaken by this,” Otto insisted, somewhat firmly, coldly. “We need to remain strong and act decisively."

“Not be shaken? They murdered my nephew, and my wife was there. This is no small matter.”

Otto’s eyes narrowed, his tone becoming sharper. “And that is exactly why we must remain composed, Aemond. Panic will only serve our enemies. We need to show them that we are not easily broken.”

“They came for me, Grandfather. When they could not find me, they killed an innocent child. My nephew. My wife could have been next.” His words were like arrows, laced with poison. “And how fares the King? Is he as composed as you wish?”

“The King’s composure is of no concern to you, Aemond. Your duty is to protect this family and this realm, not to question the King’s state of mind.”

“You speak of strategy while my family bleeds.”

There was a marked silence. Aemond was wound tight. His grandfather, while known for his clever strategy and had served many Kings as Hand at this very moment, was as detached emotionally as one could possibly be, and only saw how this tragedy might benefit their claim.

“And where was our Kingsguard while all this took place? Where was our vigilance when they slipped through our defences?”

He noted his mother’s still stance, her eyes unmoving from a single spot in the room, her hands, needing something to do, rose to her necklace, tight with worry and anxiety.

Otto said nothing for a moment. “We shall not be caught off guard again. Every measure will be taken to ensure our security.”

“I am sure your grandson will thank you for it now,” Aemond shot back.

“We will protect the ones who remain,” Otto retorted. “But we must do so with clear minds and steady hands. Emotions will not serve us in this fight.”

A tense silence hung between them, the air thick with unspoken words and clashing wills. Alicent stepped forward, her voice a fragile thread of calm amidst the storm. She took his hand, so large in her own it seemed near impossible that he could possibly be her son. Her large brown eyes were misty with tears.

“The Hand is right. We must be united in this,” she uttered quietly, trembling.

All Aemond could manage was a tired sigh. There was no use argumentation. For better or for worse, his grandfather was the King’s Hand, and if the King was indisposed, incapable of making rational choices, the members of his court had no choice but to obey.

“Where is my wife?”

Alicent hesitated, her expression pained. "She is with the maester," she finally replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

“She is hurt?”

"No,” was her quick answer, “but do treat her gently," she said softly.

His frustrations at that moment were only tempered by the knowledge that she was not harmed. The relief briefly gave way to unease at the knowledge of what his wife had witnessed a night he himself was pressed to another woman’s flesh.

He moved, walked, existed, for some time without really realising.

"She witnessed the attack, my prince," the maester began, his voice steady despite the gravity of his words. "She was with Queen Helaena and her children when the assassins struck. It was a brutal and sudden assault. She managed to escape physical harm, save a small cut on her neck I have treated, but the emotional toll is severe."

"She is in shock," the maester continued, his gaze sympathetic. "Physically unharmed, thankfully, but emotionally... she has endured a great trauma."

Aemond nodded tightly. His mind raced at the thought that he had been out of harm’s way while his family and blood suffered horror beyond comprehension in their own home.

"Is there anything else?"

The maester hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "There was some... spotting," he finally said, his tone gentle yet hesitant. "Not indicative of her cycle. It may have been due to the stress and trauma she endured."

He couldn’t deny the slight sinking of his heart at the implication. Understanding the maester’s unspoken words, that his wife may have even been with child, added yet another devastation to the evening’s toll.

The maester nodded towards a door. "She requested to be alone. I advised her to rest, but she insisted on waiting for you."

Aemond swallowed hard, steeling himself for the sight of his wife, knowing that the rift between them had deepened with each passing moment of his absence. Of his continued absence, in their marriage.

He entered the chamber as if navigating a dragon's lair. It was dark with the curtains drawn, the only light coming from the dim glow of the hearth. Her figure was seated by the mantle, her back to him, still in the same dress she had worn the evening before.

He called out to her, but she did not face him.

“How kind of you to return from your nightly excursion.”

Aemond felt the hot frustration at the nape of his neck, his defences prompted. His jaw tightened at the accusation in her tone. “I had matters to attend to,” he said coldly, not bothering to disguise the edge in his voice.

“Matters,” she echoed in disdain.

“What I do in my leisure is my business. You know this.”

She finally turned to face him, her eyes blazing with anger and hurt. “While you tended to your 'business,' I was here, witnessing the murder of our nephew. Is the first thing you have to say to me a poor excuse for your absence? And not perhaps a soft word in grief and comfort?”

Aemond’s expression remained stony, though a flicker of unease passed through his eyes. “I know what happened, and it should never have come to that. But do not think to judge me for seeking solace elsewhere.”

Her face crumpled somewhat, the pain evident in her eyes deepening, “I do not judge that, Aemond. I simply ask for respect and loyalty–”

“I have given you my name and protection–”

“It is not enough!” She rose her voice, which seemed to suck all the energy from her lungs, “not when I am left to face these horrors alone. Your sister lost a child. As did I–”

Her mouth pulled shut, her eyes drifting as if she had said too much for her frail heart.

His eye narrowed, a mixture of shock and defensiveness flashing across his face. “I did not know.”

She looked away, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “Of course you didn’t. You were too busy with your whores to notice.”

“Mind yourself–”

“Or what?” She snapped, “you will ignore me? As you always have done? Ignore your responsibility to your family? To me?”

It was rare she was ever able to best him with her words alone. But her next ones rendered the tall Prince completely silent.

“You have never been here, truly. I have been married to a ghost, a shadow that drifts in and out of our chambers but is never truly present.”

The weight of her words hung heavy in the air, the silence between them filled with the echoes of their shattered relationship. Aemond’s expression softened for a moment, a flicker of something almost like regret in his gaze, but it was quickly replaced by cold resolve.

“I am a Prince of this Realm. My duties extend far beyond you. This marriage. You will have to accept that.”

It was a neat trick Aemond did often, he would open his mouth and Otto Hightower’s words would slip out between his lips.

She closed her eyes, a single tear slipping down her cheek. “Then go. Do what you must. But do not expect me to wait for you, not anymore.”

Aemond hesitated, his hand twitching as if he wanted to reach out to her but didn't know how. The door closed with a resounding thud, leaving her alone in the darkness, the weight of their broken marriage heavy on her shoulders.

Why must it solely have been her burden to bear.

So she remained, the dim light from the hearth casting long shadows on each wall and tapestry. Her mind wandered aimlessly through her grief, reliving the horrors of that fateful night. The sounds and visions of her memories fueled the terror that gripped her even still. The pain of her own lost pregnancy, discovered too late, was a dull, constant ache in her heart. The exciting, blossoming swell of motherly intent had been snuffed out as quickly as it had been lit.

And the loneliness of her failed marriage only deepened her sorrow.

“The Mother knows.”

She blinked hard, but still heard the firm knock at the front of her mind. Two foreboding men who clearly did not belong in those parts of the Keep, one pulled harshly at Helaena’s arm, the other grabbed her from behind, yanking her to her feet. A cold blade pressed against her throat, and she gasped, her eyes wide with terror. Helaena let out a muffled scream as Cheese, smaller but no less menacing, held a knife to her neck. Two pairs of frightened white eyes flickering terrified in the darkness.

“She’s the Queen,” the smaller figure, dark curls stuck to his forehead, sneered against Helaena.

“A son for a son, he said. Well, does she look like a fucking son to you?”

She winced, his palpable violence felt through the pressure of the blade to her throat. Her breath felt like fire, her throat dry, the words spoken between the two men felt as if they were conversing in a language unknown to her.

“Prince Aemond ain’t here,” the other let out a cruel laugh, gesturing to the two cots with Helaena’s twins somehow sleeping deeply through the struggle. “We need to get our head and get out.”

Helaena could barely utter words, just winces and whimpers for mercy.

The man behind her was reluctant to release his grip. And through her body, an equally trembling voice broke loose.

"If you wish to hurt Aemond, take me," she said, her voice steady despite the terror coursing through her veins. "I am his wife. My death will wound him deeply."

She felt her breath still, two fierce blue eyes, shimmering with violent need, met hers from over Helaena’s shoulder. “So much loyalty for a man who is not even here to protect you. How touching.”

The man behind her peered at her face, his foul breath hot against her skin in a way that made her skin crawl. “So, you are the wife," he sneered, the cruel smile returning. "But we were promised a son. One who carries Hightower blood. You are useless to us.”

Helaena whimpered, her eyes darting to the cots where her children slept soundly, unaware of the nightmare unfolding around them. The smaller of the two pressed his blade a little harder against Helaena’s neck, drawing a thin line of blood. "Maybe we should kill them all," he suggested, his voice dripping with malice. "Just to make sure we don't miss the right one."

The larger laughed behind her, a low rumbling sound the deepest in the Seven Hells. “Imagine his pain when he finds her body cold in his bed." He loosened his grip slightly, letting her feel a false sense of relief before tightening it again. "Or maybe we should kill the boy first, let her watch the consequences of her husband’s crimes.”

She was only let go then, her neck aching as blood rippled to the surface, a superficial cut, but one that stung nonetheless. She watched with wide eyes, unease. The blade that was at her neck caught the light of the candles briefly.

“They both look the same. Which one’s a boy?” he asked with a trembling excitement.

No.

Two hooded eyes, craving bloodshed and death, turned to Helaena, who stood similarly vulnerable. “The Mother knows.”

The room seemed to tilt and sway, the walls closing in around her, sounds muffled as if her ears were submerged underwater. She saw Helaena’s tear-streaked face, the anguish in her eyes as she was forced to point out which of her children was the boy. The assassins crowded the bed, dark shapes looming over the small, innocent form lying there.

Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat a painful reminder of her helplessness. She wanted to shout out, to offer herself in place of the child, but the reality of her situation silenced her. Perhaps the smallfolk knew too well that Aemond cared little for his wife. That her sacrifice would mean nothing.

It felt like a nightmare, each moment stretching into eternity. She followed behind Helaena, Jaehaera hugged to her tiredly, limbs heavy with dread. The corridors blurred together, each step a struggle against the overwhelming sense of doom. As they neared her chambers, she broke away, her heart pounding with a desperate hope that Aemond had returned.

She burst into her chambers, the door slamming against the wall with a resounding crash. "Aemond!" she called out, her voice trembling with panic. The silence that greeted her was deafening, a void that swallowed her cries. Her breath came in ragged gasps, the weight of the night's horrors pressing down on her. "Aemond!" she screamed again, her voice breaking with desperation.

But the chambers stood empty. She stood there, the cold emptiness of the room closing in on her, offering no comfort, no solace. Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat a painful reminder of her solitude. She stumbled forward, calling out his name once more, her voice echoing off the walls. "Aemond, please!"

The darkness seemed to close in around her, her hopes extinguished like a dying flame. She sank to the floor, wrapping her arms around herself, trembling violently. The silence was unbearable, a stark contrast to the chaos that had engulfed her only moments before. "Aemond..." she whispered, her voice barely more than a choked sob.

The tapestry on the far wall was slightly askew, the ends flailing in the draught. A cold realisation washed over her. This was where they began. This is where the assassins had come in. A sick sense of vulnerability swept over her, making her stomach churn. They had been here. She was not safe anymore.

Her heart raced faster, and she felt a sudden, sharp pain shoot through her abdomen, doubling her over in agony. She gasped, clutching her stomach, the intense cramp sending waves of nausea through her body. The pain was unlike anything she had ever felt, a searing agony that stole her breath and left her gasping for air.

"No," she whispered, her voice breaking with a new kind of desperation. "Please, no."

But the loss was immediate.

She whispered Aemond's name one last time, her voice a fragile thread in the vast emptiness.

A gentle voice broke through her trance, pulling her back to the present. “My dear, can you hear me?”

She blinked, the room coming into focus. Alicent, her mother by marriage, was seated before her, concern etched deeply into her features with a drink cradled in her hand. Her dress was different, her hair braided in a manner that did not resemble that terrible evening.

How many days had passed? What had she eaten? Had she seen Aemond since that morning?

It was frightening, to exist without remembering.

Alicent repeated her name softly. “I’ve been calling your name.”

She turned to look at her, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “I apologise, I... I was just thinking.”

Alicent sighed. “I know, dear. I cannot imagine the pain you’re in. But you mustn’t let it consume you.”

She nodded, but couldn't help but feel both frustrated and powerless. How could she not allow this to consume her, when she could still feel the twisting in her chest and the hollowness that had deepened since that night. “Of course.” Was all she said.

Alicent gave her a sympathetic smile, reaching out to gently squeeze her hand. “You’ve endured so much. More than anyone should have to bear. And I know it feels impossible now, but time will help.”

It felt as if ‘time’ was merely Aemond's mother's way of shifting responsibility. As if the effort were not needed in this mortal realm, and decided entirely by the Gods.

It was unfair, she thought. To have been abandoned by them in her time of ultimate need.

Alicent retreated, shrinking as she felt her despair, “Helaena is deeply hurt. She is sensitive, and this tragedy has cut her deeply, naturally,” Alicent trails off. “Perhaps you might go and see her. It might help both of you.”

Would Helaena even want to see her? She had not tried, reasoning that she and the King had enough to deal with. The death of their child. One another. The dark omen that loomed over the Keep.

She had not wanted to intrude on her suffering, despite feeling it so profoundly herself.

“Aemond has his own way of dealing with grief,” Alicent added suddenly, “it may not be the way we wish, but he is still young and finding his path. His responsibilities weigh heavily on him.”

She could have laughed. The only decent smile she would have broken in an age. Responsibilities.

It seemed the Dowager Queen truly had no idea what any of her own children were thinking or doing at any given time. And for that, she could not help the simmering resentment.

She masked it simply with a polite nod, acknowledging but not believing. Alicent’s face tightened with the strain of balancing her loyalty to her son and her compassion for her.

“I understand your grief, my love. I truly do. But you must try to understand his burdens, as difficult as that is. He has a duty to the realm, and sometimes that means... sacrifices.”

Her eyes were dry from nights of endless crying, and she felt them strain as she turned her head to Alicent, as if she could not quite believe what she had said. As if Aemond's words were perfumed and spilling from his mother's mouth.

“And that is what I am?”

“You are a part of this family, and we must all find a way to support each other. I cannot excuse his actions, but I can ask for your patience and understanding. For all our sakes.”

It was not an answer to her question. Merely a dismissal. She swallowed hard, the bitter taste of resignation settling in her throat.

For a moment, she stared down into her cup of warm tea, untouched. Watching the rich brown ripple, for she could not stand to look into the bitter shade of Alicent's any longer.

“It is all I ask,” Alicent uttered gently, as if she was aware of the tentative string she walked upon.

She nodded slowly, the weight of expectation pressing heavily upon her. She forced herself to meet Alicent's gaze, searching for any sign of genuine compassion or understanding. There was some, but it was overshadowed by the stern duty that ruled the Dowager Queen.

Alicent gave a sympathetic smile, “you have shown great strength, my love.”

She nodded again, though she felt anything but strong. The days had blurred into nights, and each moment seemed to stretch endlessly before her, a relentless parade of sorrow and duty. She was exhausted, worn thin by grief and the constant strain of maintaining a facade of normalcy.

Where was strength, in witnessing a brutal crime?

Where was strength, when losing a child that had barely lived?

Where was strength, in the waning tide of a failing marriage.

She had said to Aemond that it felt as if she were married to a ghost. But the more time went by, Lords and Ladies tiptoeing around her, their glances quick and measured, she felt very much the ghost herself. As if they see her, feel her presence, but do not hear her speak or breathe as if she were alive.

As much as she did not value the Dowager Queen's opinion of Aemond and their marriage, she struggled to cope with the unending trauma of her presence for Prince Jaehaerys’ murder. The nightmarish memories haunted her days and nights, an ever-present shadow that refused to fade. Each scream, each drop of blood, each moment of terror replayed endlessly in her mind. The palace that had once been her home now felt like a prison, its walls closing in around her.

The loss of the pregnancy was distant, but she still felt the fresh kick of it as if it were recent. It was a silent, aching sorrow, compounded by the knowledge that Aemond, the father, remained indifferent. The possibility of what could have been gnawed at her, the child a symbol of hope now lost forever.

With the child, she could at least have been useful, she reasoned. Her duty would remain paramount. But as Aemond grew less and less present, slipping into the arms of those he would rather share the warmth of his flesh with, it seemed less and less likely he would wish to try for another child with her.

Yet another thing her husband could take away from her. Her purpose.

The absence of this feeling had made her desperate for reconnection. She visited Helaena's chambers every day, requesting the Kingsguard stood straight at the door if she might speak with the Queen. But every time, he said the same thing.

“The Queen requests to be alone at present.”

Each visit, each attempt, ended in heartbreak. The closed doors and silence were a painful reminder that while she was not alone in her suffering, but also not welcome in her attempts to bridge their mutual anguish.

She felt her heart lurch into her chest when she returned to her chambers, finding an unfamiliar presence rummaging around the ornate oak cupboards. The figure, however unseen in this part of the Keep, possessed the silver moonlit hair she knew so well, but short, unkempt and choppy.

Her shocked gasp seemed to draw the King’s attention, and he turned, his clothes askew, face swollen and sunken from tears and wine consumption.

“Y-your Grace–” she found her words, giving a polite curtsy, trying to calm the hammering of her heart.

“Apologies for the intrusion,” he muttered, twirling a newly found decanter of wine in his hand. “The servants will no longer allow me to have my fill.”

She swallowed, her hand dropping from her chest, away from her thrumming pulse. “Of course, Your Grace. Help yourself at your leisure.”

Aegon’s gaze finally met hers, and for a brief moment, she saw the depth of his anguish. The loss of his son had shattered him in ways that wine alone could not mend. He took a long, unsteady sip from the decanter, the liquid sloshing slightly as his hand trembled.

“Is there anything I can do to help, Your Grace?” She asked softly, unsure if her presence was a comfort or a burden.

Aegon let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Unless you can bring back the dead, there is little anyone can do.”

Silence fell between them, heavy and poignant. Aegon’s words lingered in the air, a cruel reminder of the shared grief that bound them both. He realised, too late, that his careless remark had cut deeper than intended. He had lost a son, but she, his sister by marriage, had also felt a profound loss.

Aegon cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “I... I apologise. That was thoughtless of me.”

She shook her head, her expression softening. “We all speak from our pain, Your Grace. I understand.”

Aegon leaned against the table, his eyes bloodshot. “Where is Aemond?”

She hesitated, her gaze dropping to the floor. And that seemed an answer enough. She felt her cheeks get hot, in his presence, the guilt seemed to grow and grow.

Why could it not have been her that night. She has mulled over the question several times.

“I am sorry…” she choked out, wiping her cheeks when moisture nipped at her sensitive skin. “I could— could have done more—”

Aegon’s expression softened, the bitterness in his eyes giving way to a rare moment of understanding. “It was not your fault. None of this is your fault.”

There was a beat of silence as he approached, the decanter hanging lazily in his grip at his side. He looked exhausted, as if all the fight had left him.

“I thank you…for being there for Helaena and Jaehaera,” he murmured, as if the Keep’s walls had ears, “my sister has a gentle temperament, and you are much like a natural born sibling to her.”

The silence that followed was heavy with shared pain and an unspoken understanding. For a moment, their grief became a silent bond between them, a fragile thread of connection in the midst of their suffering.

Her voice broke the silence softly. “I only wish I could do more, Your Grace.”

Aegon opened his mouth to reply, but the appearance of Otto Hightower in the doorway halted him. Aegon’s eyes widened slightly, and he quickly hid the decanter behind his back, trying to conceal it. With a curt nod to her, he slipped out of the chamber, leaving her alone with Otto.

She surmised perhaps, Otto had given the King a sharp gesture, inviting him to leave. And she steeled herself for the man's oppressive and yet firm presence, and turned to face him.

Otto stepped into the room, his gaze sharp and calculating. He glanced at her, noting her flushed cheeks and the way she quickly composed herself.

“I hope I am not interrupting.”

She shook her head, the brief moment of awkwardness fading. “Not at all.”

Otto’s eyes swept over her, lingering momentarily before returning to her face. “I came to ensure you are managing well under the circumstances.”

Just what reaction might he expect from her? To be scaling the walls with madness?

“It is said that people often find unexpected strengths in times of hardship, though it seems some have less experience in harnessing them.”

Her fingers tightened where she held them in front of her and tried her hardest not to mirror the feeling in her expression. “The weight of grief is heavy.”

“Indeed. It is important to remember that appearances can be deceptive. And, it would be unfortunate if this…response were to become an impediment rather than a motivation.”

Her shaky exhale did little to ease the tension in her body.

“I appreciate the reminder, Lord Hightower.”

Eager to see the back of him, she made no attempt to offer wine or tea. She did not want this emotionless, self-serving attitude to further darken the doorway of her chambers.

And she thought as she listened to the Lord Hand’s footsteps echo softly down the hall, that she now realised where her dear husband inherited this trait.

Aemond lay in the dimly lit room of the brothel, the scent of incense mingling with the faint aroma of sex and wine. His eye drifted shut at Sylvi's fingers through his hair, running the silver strands through them as if it were silk illuminated by pale moonlight.

Sylvi, with her deep, knowing eyes, watched him closely. She had always been good at reading him, understanding the depths of his turmoil without needing words.

“You are troubled,” she said softly, her voice a soothing balm in the quiet room.

“None more than is usual.”

“Tell me,” Sylvi countered, not letting him evade the truth.

“Daemon sent them to kill me,” Aemond’s voice was low, but his attention seemingly elsewhere, “I was out.”

“You were with me,” Sylvi reminded him, her fingers still tracing soothing patterns on his scalp.

“In truth, I am proud that he considers me such a foe. That he seeks to murder me in my bed.” Aemond’s voice held a mix of pride and bitterness, the conflicting emotions evident in his eyes as he looked up at her. “He is afraid of me.”

“As well he should be,” Sylvi said with a sickly smile, her fingers pausing for a moment, her body leaning closer to brush her breath against his lips. “The boy has grown into a man.”

“No. Not here.” Aemond pulled away from her intimacy, creating a physical and emotional distance. Sylvi sensed there was another truth Aemond was not displaying, and there was a thin, tentative line she had to tread as the man before her curled his legs to his chest.

“And what else?” she inquired, making no attempt to touch him.

Aemond’s gaze dropped to the floor, his fingers clenching and unclenching as if trying to grasp an elusive thought. The room felt colder, the flickering candlelight casting long, unsteady shadows on the walls. His usually composed facade was cracking, and the turmoil within him was evident in the tension of his jaw and the furrow of his brow. He struggled to find the words, each breath he took seeming heavier than the last.

“They came for me. When they couldn’t find me, they killed my nephew. And my wife... she was there to witness it all.”

"That must be an unimaginable burden to carry."

Aemond continued, his voice growing harsher, as if he expected Sylvi to be more…insistent of his guilt. “I was supposed to be there, but I was not. I was here. And she... she suffered because of it. My sister also.”

But there was little the other woman could say to quell the storm within. It was a complicated one, as it was always with Aemond she had begun to find out. While it was clear there was no love in this tumultuous marriage, the thought that she had endured such trauma while he was away, seeking solace in the arms of another, gnawed at him relentlessly. His absence had cost his family dearly, and the weight of that realisation was almost unbearable.

“And how do you feel?” she asked softly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“How do you think I feel?” he snapped. He took a deep breath, trying to rein in his temper. “I am angry. My wife slips further into grief, not that she was ever truly close to me. And I do not know how to reach her.”

“Anger is natural, given everything that has happened.”

He shakes his head, the words seem empty. “And what is to be done about it. She lost a child that night,” he recalled bitterly.

Sylvi regarded him with a knowing look, her eyes glimmering softly in the dim light. Her voice was gentle, almost melodic as she spoke.

“Perhaps, if she were to fall with child again, it would lift her spirits.” There was no recognising the subtle manipulation in her voice, nor did he realise the depth of what he had just revealed. He simply nodded, lost in his thoughts.

Sylvi’s fingers traced patterns on his arm, her touch light and soothing. She was planting a seed, one that could lead to healing or further heartache, depending on how it grew. “You have the power to change things, Aemond. You can give her hope again.”

“I do not know if I have hope to offer her.”

Sylvi tilted her head slightly, her eyes studying him with a blend of sympathy and curiosity. “She is your wife. She is still your responsibility. Even if you don’t love her.”

Aemond’s face hardened, a bitter edge creeping into his voice. “Love is for peasants who wish to fuck without sin.”

Sylvi's gaze softened, though there was a hint of steel beneath her calm exterior, and perhaps a catching of some offence. “And what of duty? Even in the absence of love. And perhaps, through fulfilling it, you might find something worth holding onto. New life can often pave a new path.”

Aemond’s eyes narrowed, but the weight of her words hung heavily in the air, the hollow ache of his failure sitting like a stone in his chest.

“I suppose duty is all that remains.”

The conversation with Sylvi weighed heavily on his mind, her words about duty and new life echoing in his thoughts. As he reached the door to his wife's chambers, he hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering over the handle before he finally pushed it open.

She was sitting by the window, staring out at the darkened sky. She didn’t turn to look at him as he entered, her grief-stricken face illuminated by the moonlight. The room was silent, save for the soft rustling of the curtains in the night breeze. He watched her for a moment, noting the listlessness in her movements, and he took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation he had been avoiding.

“I need to speak with you.”

She looked up from where she sat by the window, her eyes dull and unresponsive. “What is it, Aemond?”

He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “We need to try again. For a child.”

Her reaction was immediate, her eyes flashing with a mix of disbelief and anger. “You cannot be serious.”

“I am,” he replied, his voice steady. “We have a duty to our house, to ensure its future.”

“Duty,” she spat the word like it was poison. “Is that all you ever think about? Our child, the one I lost, does it mean nothing to you?”

Aemond’s jaw tightened. “It is not about that. It is about moving forward. We cannot dwell on what we have lost forever.”

She stood, her hands trembling with the force of her emotions. “You think I have not tried to move forward? Every day I wake up and try to put the pieces of my shattered life back together. But you... you have not been here. You do not understand what it’s like.”

His eyes narrowed, a flicker of frustration crossing his features. “I have my own burdens. My own ways of dealing with them.”

“By disappearing to the brothels every night?” she shot back, her voice rising.

He had never seen his wife like this, never. With her, there was an element of submission she had always offered, and she never complained, not once, before. Her eyes were so expressive he could read them like a tome. And in this moment, when she had said what was at the forefront of her mind, something she would dare not voice mere moons ago, he watched as her mouth slipped shut and she shrank back in on herself, sensing her words had widened their ever-expanding emotional chasm.

She looked upon him as if she were afraid of his response. But expectant.

Aemond took a step closer, his expression hardening. “This is not just about us. It is about our family, our legacy. We need to try again.”

Her shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of her. “I cannot snuff my pain out like a flame, Aemond. I cannot…pretend everything is well and start over like nothing happened.”

“I am not asking you to forget,” he said, his tone softening slightly.

But he was asking her to cast it aside. And for what?

“Why, Aemond…” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Why do you care so much about an heir when you cannot even care about me?”

The silence that sat between them was an ugly one, borne of years of regret and guilt, like a festering wound that refused to heal. It stretched and twisted, warping the air between them, heavy with unspoken truths and broken promises. The weight of it was suffocating, pressing down on their chests and stealing the breath from their lungs.

He opened his mouth to speak, but words failed him, leaving only the bitter taste of unspoken confessions. He could almost hear the whispers of the smallfolk, the cruel gossip that had spread like wildfire through the castle walls, rumours of her inability to bear a child, seeded by a careless word in a brothel. The knowledge of it gnawed like a disease, a constant reminder of her perceived failure, exacerbated by Aemond’s apparent indifference.

Aemond’s gaze was hard, his jaw set in a rigid line. The vulnerability he had shown moments before was gone, replaced by the cold mask he wore so well. “Because it is what is expected of me,” he replied, the edge in his voice returning. “We all have our roles to play. I must ensure our future, whether I like it or not.”

He began taking off his doublet, the heavy garment sliding off his shoulders with a practised ease. The action was mechanical, almost detached, and it sent a shiver down her spine as she realised his intention.

"So soon...?" she said quietly, blinking the moisture from her eyes. Her voice was barely above a whisper, heavy with the weight of her sorrow.

Aemond paused for a moment, his hands stilling on the laces of his shirt. He looked at her, truly looked at her, and for a fleeting moment, something akin to regret flickered in his eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced once more by the cold determination that had come to define him.

“We cannot afford to wait,” he said, his tone softer but no less resolute.

Her heart ached with a sorrow so profound it felt as if it might swallow her whole. She wanted to scream, to rage against the unfairness of it all, but she knew it would be futile. Instead, she simply nodded, the movement small and resigned. She moved to the bed, the weight of her grief pressing down on her with every step and when Aemond joined her, the distance between them became palpable even in their proximity. There were no tender words, no gestures of comfort; just the cold, stark reality of their duty. His touch, impersonal.

She tried to steel herself against the emotions that threatened to overwhelm her, knowing that this act was not born of love, but of necessity. And in that moment, the chasm between them seemed wider than ever, a silent testament to the love they had never truly known.

He did not look at her, did not seek her eyes. His mind was elsewhere, already thinking of the future he was so determined to secure. When it was over, Aemond pulled away, the silence between them more deafening than any words could have been. He dressed quickly, his movements efficient and unfeeling. She remained where she was, her body and spirit drained.

Her own form felt nothing like her own as she righted herself to sit up, pushing her skirts back down her legs, armouring her skin as if she needed protection over every inch of her. Aemond stood, his back to her, barely a silver hair out of place, fastening his breeches with a meticulousness that seemed almost cruel in its precision.

“Do you find comfort in their arms because you cannot stand to be close to me?”

Aemond's shoulders tensed, but he did not turn to face her. “I do not know what you want of me,” he replied, his voice distant and cold, like the draught seeping through the cracks in the ancient stone.

“I want to be respected as your wife. Your equal.” Her plea hung in the air, laden with the weight of unmet expectations and unfulfilled promises.

“I cannot change what has happened. I did not know how to be there for you then, and I do not know now." He finally turned to face her, his gaze meeting hers with a mix of frustration and resignation. “I do not know how to be that man. I have failed you, and I may continue to fail you. But I will try to respect you as my wife, if nothing else.”

Her shoulders slumped under the weight of his words, the fight draining out of her. The acceptance in her voice was tinged with a profound sadness, the acknowledgment of a life destined to be lived in the shadow of duty rather than the light of love.

“Very well. If that is all I shall ever be.”

Some time passed, each day blending into the next in a haze of routine and muted sorrow. Servants and guards whispered as she passed, their sympathetic glances and hushed tones adding to the heavy silence that surrounded her.

The bloom of spring flowers went unnoticed, their colours a stark contrast to the grey fog that seemed to envelop her mind. She was supposed to track the days, to know when her moon blood should come, but time had lost its meaning. The markers of her cycle were swallowed by the same darkness that claimed her thoughts.

“The summer of a woman's years is a short season. It passes by in the blink of an eye. Toyed with by this momentary value.”

Her mother had always been blunt about her words. But now, more than ever, with the taunting explosion of colour and vibrancy outside, she felt as if her season was closing in, like a prison she could not fight.

Some evenings, as she sat alone in her chamber, she felt a familiar ache low in her abdomen. It was a dull, persistent pain, one she knew all too well. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as she tried to steady herself. Was it her moon blood, or was it something else? The uncertainty gnawed at her, but she could not bring herself to seek answers, to go to the maester to confirm. The prospect of hope was too painful, the fear of disappointment too great.

Life or loss. There was an element of control she could grapple to, by simply not knowing.

As usual, her Lord Husband remained absent from her life. Perhaps it was just as well she did not know, and that he did not inquire.

It was a pleasant enough evening in any case, spent mostly by the fire, the light of the flames serving to assist her in the delicate art of her embroidery. A pastime she would otherwise spend with Helaena in days passed. Since calling to her chambers most days in the immediate aftermath, in truth, she had rarely tried to urge her to accept her presence. Reasoning that in time, perhaps the troubled Queen would make her way back to her, in body and soul.

She felt her whole jump in her seat in shock, the door to the chambers swinging open and then shut with a loud thud. For a short moment, it brought her back, the horror making her heart hammer against her ribs, fully expecting to see two figures darken her doorway once more.

But her wide eyes only looked upon the lone figure of her husband, his face a mask of anger and humiliation. As usual, he had ignored her presence entirely and went straight to the decanter on the table, pouring himself a generous measure of wine. Unusual behaviour from her distant husband. He sat down heavily in the chair by the hearth, taking a long drink, his movements tense and jerky.

She knew better than to ask, given the state of their fragile bond. Fearing perhaps the reaction she would receive. Instead, for a moment, she watched him silently from the corner, her own heart heavy with grief and pain. Despite her suffering, she felt an irresistible pull to reach out to him, to try to soothe the anger radiating off him in waves, almost palpable in its intensity.

Her steps were soft and deliberate as she approached him cautiously, each footfall muted on the cold stone floor. The air between them felt charged, thick with tension. Aemond didn’t look up from the drink in his hand, his gaze fixed on the swirling crimson liquid. His fingers gripped the glass with a white-knuckled intensity, as if the drink was his only anchor in a sea of turmoil. She reached out tentatively, her fingers brushing lightly against his shoulder. The contact was gentle, but he stiffened, his posture becoming rigid under her touch. Yet, he did not pull away, a silent sign that he was at least willing to tolerate her presence.

“You do not have to,” Aemond muttered, his voice low and strained, a mixture of resignation and weariness. “I have given you no reason to.”

“I know,” she replied softly, her voice barely more than a whisper. The words were simple, but they carried the weight of her empathy and unspoken concern.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, the movement slight but significant. A flicker of something unidentifiable crossed his features, perhaps it was vulnerability, or perhaps a fleeting moment of regret. She met his gaze with unwavering softness, her eyes reflecting a deep understanding that transcended the barriers between them. The lines of her face were etched with sorrow, yet there was a tender resolve in her expression.

With a hesitant motion, Aemond took her hand, his grip warm against her chilled skin. He turned his face into her hand, not kissing it, but letting the skin rest against his lips in a gesture that was both intimate and detached. As if he was silently thanking her for her presence, for her effort to reach out despite the emotional chasm that lay between them.

She let her hand fall away slowly, stepping back to give him the space he seemed to need. The small, almost imperceptible shift in his posture, a release of some of the tension, indicated that her gesture had made a difference, however slight.

Aemond took a deep breath, the sound escaping his lips like a weary sigh. The tension in his body eased slightly, and he became aware that while they might not be aligned in love, his wife understood him in a way few others did. She grasped his pain and anger, and she reached out to him despite everything that had transpired between them. He gave her a small nod, a silent acknowledgment of her attempt to bridge the gap between them, a gesture that spoke volumes more than words ever could.

She returned the nod with a gentle inclination of her head, her eyes meeting his with a flicker of hope and understanding. They didn’t need many words; the shared silence between them was enough to convey their fragile understanding, a tentative first step toward mending the rift between them. The quiet was a balm, a soft promise of potential reconciliation, though it remained unspoken.

Her heart seemed to lift, the rest she received later that evening somewhat fruitful. And though Aemond left in the early hours of the morning the next day, she recognised that he no longer visited the brothel, busying himself instead in the library most evenings. It was a small victory, but one she clung to, rightly or wrongly.

The servants were even more palatable that morning, with sweet words and even sweeter smiles for her. Dressed in a gown she favoured the most, she felt her mood ripen.

She was gently roused from her reverie by the sound of quiet footsteps approaching her chamber door. A soft, hesitant knock followed, and the door creaked open. Standing in the doorway was Helaena, the Queen, accompanied by her only living child, Jaehaera. The sight of them was a poignant reminder of both the life and loss that threaded through their lives.

Helaena’s eyes were red-rimmed but held a glimmer of resolve and determination. Her composure was fragile, but there was a soft strength in her presence. Her heart ached at the sight of them.

“Sister.”

She rose from her seat, her movements slow and deliberate, a sign of the emotional and physical exhaustion that still clung to her. Helaena stepped into the room, her gaze meeting hers with a quiet understanding.

“I thought we might spend the day together,” Helaena said, her voice steady. “As we used to.”

Her eyes softened as she looked at Helaena and Jaehaera. The gesture was more than kind, it was a lifeline extended in a sea of shared sorrow.

“I would like that very much,” she replied, her voice barely more than a whisper, yet imbued with genuine warmth.

For a while, the three women sat together in silence, the room filled with the soft murmur of their breathing, the occasional rustle of fabric and the icy dropping of a needle. It was a quiet that spoke of shared pain and tentative hope, a small balm for their wounded souls. Helaena rarely spoke, apart from the quiet mutterings she herself was used to in her dreamy presence.

They, Helaena and Jaehaera, were a reminder that there were still threads of connection and understanding that bound them together. The day held the promise of comfort and perhaps, slowly, the possibility of healing.

From the doorway, Aemond watched them, his face was an unreadable mask, but his expression betrayed a depth of emotion, regret, longing, and a faint glimmer of hope. His gaze lingered on his wife, who held Jaehaera with a tender protectiveness, and on Helaena, whose hazy mutterings were soothing musings to the silent exchange of grief and solace.

He took a step back. For the first time in a long while, he felt a stirring of something he could not quite name, a hint of what could be if he only allowed himself to reach out and grasp it.

General Taglist: @1lluminaticonfirmed @aemondsfavouritebastard @all-for-aemond @bellstwd @blackswxnn

@blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @cl-0-vr @eddieslut69

@emmaisafictionwhore @eponaartemisa @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @justbelljust

@minholy223 @mochi-rose@natty2017 @nenelysian @nixiefics @primonizzutto

@qyburnsghost @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @sheshellsseashells

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justsayyes1 · 3 months ago

Text

How to attract a man

(TW: contains extreme sexual themes of misogyny, patriarchy, gaslighting, bimboficiation and bambi sleep triggers)

Are you looking for man or struggling with your current one. Have you considered that your attitude may be the problem..? Read below for some helpful tips on how to be the most attractive partner you can be.

There are many materials available for girls looking to understand theirself and their potential attitude problems. Programs such as BAMBI SLEEP and BIMBO DOLL productions offer a wide range of packages to help POP those little doubts from your mind.

You see, men are simple creatures, they simply require one thing from you. And that’s to be a GOOD GIRL. Now that doesn’t sound too hard now does it..?

And if it’s that simple, it perhaps only goes show that your attitude is the problem.

Next time you see him, show him how much you value him by serving him a drink. Gently melt into his kiss as you show him how much power even a touch has over you.

He’s has such a long day, providing for you, making sure you feel so SAFE AND SECURE. His feet must ache, why not just DROP FOR COCK, down onto your knees and help him remove his shoes.

Be a pretty image for him to view. All dressed in your prettiest outfit UNIFORM LOCK. With your most delicate makeup, all PRIMPED AND PAMPERED. Ruby red lips, just perfect for kissing his feet. Rosey blush to reflect your true passion for pleasing him.

Show him you can be the best object you can be, as you serve him in ways other than through your primal instincts. Show him your appreciation through service of all kinds. Just get on your hands and knees and BAMBI FREEZE.

Just an object for him to use as he is serviced in other ways. After-all finding other GOOD GIRLS to serve him is all part of being a good partner. GOOD GIRLS always MAKE MORE GOOD GIRLS

You just kneel there, silently, showing him how much you obey him. How much you crave him. How little your own thoughts, mind or will matter when it comes to his comfort.

How it is your obligation, to be seen but not heard. Simply a decoration for him to display.

Service above all else, should be your only life purpose. Focusing on being the best GOOD GIRL you can be.

BAMBI RESET

You see the biggest key to being the best partner, is knowing that he always comes first. That your voice doesn’t matter anymore. He speaks for you, thinks for you, acts for you. And that makes everything so much easier, doesn’t it bambi.

No more struggles with choice, with deep thought. Brains are for boys after all, your thoughts are just noise.

You are simply a reflection of him, his trophy to display and you must respect that, respect him.

You obey and submit to him completely, without question. And that will bring you more pleasure than your helpless glisten fuck hole has ever received.

Now be a GOOD GIRL won’t you and get me a drink.

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luvth0t · 9 months ago

Text

SLUT! ━ C.L

based off ‘slut!’ by taylor swift

in which you work in a man’s world, and loving your competitor is a lot more damning for you than charles.

warnings; smut, driver!reader, themes of sexism and misogyny and touches on inequality, angst, lotta tension tbh, she’s kinda long, unprotected sex, overstimulation, praise, degradation like once, public sex, jealousy and maybe a bad friend reader if u squint, haas suck, manifested monaco win for charles :p

lovelorn and nobody knows

love thorns all over this rose,

i’ll pay the price, you won’t

you’d overcome enough challenges in your life.

you’d constantly proven everyone wrong, do what those said you can’t ━ every step and move you made was met with criticism instead of praise. doubt instead of belief.

you found a way. you broke the records, created your own more so. first modern day female f1 driver, and you didn’t intend to be the last.

haas wasn’t where you wanted to be, and while most expected you to be happy with just having a seat; that’s not why you were here. you didn’t fall in love with the sport to just become a driver.

you wanted to win. podiums, wins, championships. like the other 19 drivers ━ you all wanted the same thing.

for some reason you were the only one who got laughed at when speaking on such wants.

but you got used to the laughter, to the unamused or unimpressed journalists ━ this was a man’s world.

that didn’t scare you as a 14 year old girl, and it wouldn’t scare you now.

all these challenges and obstacles that you overcame, all the doubt and hate you shook off; yet there was a certain something you just couldn’t shake.

certain someone more so.

it killed you inside that a man of all things could cause you so much grief, so much internal conflict.

for some reason when it came to charles, you just couldn’t resist. putting your career first, which you’d done all your life, suddenly became difficult.

you didn’t show it, you also weren’t too hard on yourself. it was unfair to be in this position in the first place. to have to be so aware of your relation to the driver, any other drivers of that matter, was a circumstance only you found yourself in.

friendships and banters amongst any other pairings on the grid was adored; snatched up by social media and cameras.

your friendships caused headlines and unwanted press apparently.

it was something you picked up on quickly, the obsession of romance and the assumption that you wanted to sleep with every damn man you raced alongside.

you laughed at it, spoke down on such thing; then didn’t give it any of your time.

until suddenly the rumours were true; charles leclerc had somehow weaselled his way past every barrier and wall you put up.

it wasn’t something you accepted quickly. and once you caught wind of your stupid little heart and it’s fondness of the monegasque you were quick to try put the friendship and it’s entirety six feet under.

this worked, for a few months.

charles had been confused ━ under the assumption you two were at the bare minimum friends. as good as friends as two drivers could get at least. then suddenly you avoided him as if he was carrying the plague.

he couldn’t question it however; it’d be pathetic. to ask you why you refused to meet his eyes in press conferences and drivers briefings anymore.

why you avoided whatever side of the drivers parade truck he was on. why you couldn’t spare him more than a ‘hello’ in passing these days.

he interacted less with other drivers, and didn’t question them. so he couldn’t question you.

las vegas however, was your downfall.

drinking was unavoidable ━ daniel had made you promise to go out with him the moment you congratulated him on his return; and if it hadn’t been him, you knew someone would’ve of.

with daniel, there was max. that was fine; you got on well with max.

then there were talks lando would make it out, despite having gone to hospital; you knew a couple other drivers would also be in the same club you were. an entry fee so high, everyone around you was oozing importance and wealth.

it shouldn’t have surprised you when suddenly charles appeared at an already drunk daniel’s side; loud laughter and murmurs of a prior vegas trip giving you enough time to down your drink in preparation to be in his presence.

you couldn’t run, not when stood in a group of four; silver slip dress doing little to allow you to blend in with the crowd around you.

you felt his gaze on you before your eyes met his, almost as if it was causing heat on your skin ━ demanding you to look at him.

his eyes had met yours with a slight twinkle, slightly hooded and telling you that he too had enough alcohol running in his veins; and the lazy smile he flashed you had your own lips curving upwards with little resistance.

it was embarassing the way your cheeks went a tint of pink as you watched him weave around daniel who was now speaking to max, too engrossed in a story to care about the way charles moved him out of the way, to stand next to you.

immediately you were aware of his hand finding the small of your back as your body became aware of the closeness of him, breath getting caught in your throat as he leant down towards your ear.

“you look incredible,” the compliment was genuine; the smile accompanying his words rendering you unable to find room to complain.

suddenly it was too hot in here. you’d like to blame the alcohol, or the stuffy club. but the man to your left was the only reason you suddenly craved fresh air.

“thank you,” you hummed, not creating distance between the pair of you despite the idea crossing your mind. he was too close, you should step away. but his cologne smelt incredible. and his hand was still lingering on your back lightly.

his smile only grew at your response, having expected you to wiggle away and disappear into the crowd.

the conversation was harmless, it always had been; but speaking with charles was just a reminder that he was one of the good ones.

he’d only ever been kind to you; kind to everyone. one of the first to speak with you like any other driver, speak about racing and your careers without undermining you.

the more time you spent with him the more clear it became that he was flawless. and oh so tempting.

maybe you would’ve ended the conversation when daniel gave you an out, interrupting the pair of you. but it was with shots on a tray next to him.

three shots later and the four of you were all cringing, scrambling to find chasers; charles offering you a lime that you quickly took ━ managing to squirt lime juice everywhere but your mouth.

it had the pair of you erupting into giggles, your hands quickly landing on his shirt which was now speckled in droplets.

“i’m so sorry!” you exasperated, only now becoming aware of the way you were struggling to stand up straight. using his chest to balance you momentarily.

he wasn’t doing any better, telling you it was fine through his own laughter; his hand lifting to your face ━ thumb brushing a few droplets off your cheek as he too swayed side to side.

your eyes met, both drunken and amused ━ and suddenly all rational thoughts had left your body.

“we need another.” you declared, hand grasping around his forearm; watching as his lips parted to disagree. but he couldn’t. a good time too tempting to resist right now.

max and daniel were long forgotten as you weaved through the crowd to the bar to sought after shots of your own; unable to identify the moment your hands had taken grasp of each other.

it was a fun two hours; innocent as well, flirtatious maybe but his hand didn’t stoop lower than your back ━ drinks consistently being poured; drivers, personnel, sponsors and fans rotating through. but you didn’t leave charles side.

you weren’t on edge either, not thinking about the what ifs. about tomorrow or the next week. just enjoying the moment.

time had gone incredibly quickly. you lost track of how many hours had been spent at the bar, how many drinks you’d downed.

charles too, until you were leaning further and further into his side. his intake stopped the moment he realised you were now struggling to stand straight.

the thought entered his mind to find a member of your team, haas or personal, to help you get you to your room soon.

he was drunk, there was no doubt about it. but he was attempting to sober up in your presence.

when you spilt a drink over the bar however, he took responsibility and declared your night was over.

it was a struggle, as his hands clasped around your arms and attempted to push you towards the exit ━ quickly realising he too was struggling to walk straight.

he’d managed however, getting you into the back of his drivers car not as easy with you dropping your phone. then him his wallet, resulting in drunken giggles and mumbles as you finally got buckled in and situated.

most of the car ride was filled with you rambling, charles more than happy to let you speak. he’d missed hearing from you ━ even if he could barely make sense and keep up with your story.

it wasn’t until you were stumbling in the hotel, through the underground entrance thankfully, and into the elevator that there was moments of silence.

you leaned back against the wall, watching as charles pressed the buttons. admiring more so, head titled aside as you gazed over the ferarri driver.

only then did you realise you shouldn’t be in this position. because all you wanted to do was get your hands on him. admire him up close, the distance of the elevator a rude difference to how the night had been spent.

your arms reached upwards, practically beckoning him over; and with an amused smile he easily fell into place ━ approaching you as his hand pressed against the wall beside your head, eyebrows raising upwards in curiosity as he peered down at you.

your arms wrapped around his neck naturally, neither of you phased from the new closeness and comfortability ━ your eyes flickering over his face, lingering on his lips for a few moments too long.

“i want to kiss you,” the words escaped your lips without any thought; it was as if a weight was lifted off your chest. some form of confession quite relieving.

charles hummed at your words, smirking even as he let out a breathy chuckle.

“yeah?” he teased ━ his breath fanning your face, and you nodded without any hesitation. it’s not what you wanted that had you not making any movements.

“mhm,” you sighed, head falling back; charles having not expected the huff of disappointment. you missed the way his eyebrows furrowed for a split second. if he was sober maybe he’d pick up on your internal conflict.

“kiss me then,” charles chimed, hand finding the side of your head; cupping your cheek so delicately you could only lean into the embrace.

never had you called on such will power and mental strength, fighting every instinct and nerve in your body that was practically yearning for him. begging you to put yourself out of your misery for once and rid the distance between the pair of you.

but you hadn’t come so far for nothing. you could only make so many drunken decisions.

“i can’t,” the words were painful to say, even the slight numbness that alcohol brought; you felt every sting of the sentence.

you watched the way his lips only curved upwards, he hadn’t picked up on the seriousness of your words.

“why not?” the question was teasing, his thumb caressing your cheek making it difficult to stick to your guns.

you looked at him as if he should know; because you’d hope he’d have some sort of idea. maybe if you could see straight you would’ve realised that charles reality wasn’t the same of yours.

“people will talk.” it sounded pathetic when you said it out loud, the sentence sobering you up enough to realise such thing. you weren’t one to usually care what people thought, so the way his smile faltered made sense.

charles took a few moments to process your words ━ he would’ve stepped away if it weren’t for your arms around him.

he wanted to point out that you two were in fact alone, but he knew what you meant. no secret was kept secret for long in the world of f1.

“let them.” charles attempted to dismiss, a cheesy smile to match, one that had you smiling as well. but it wasn’t the grin you’d been carrying all night. it was a sympathetic one almost.

charles was putting some pieces together now, as much as he could at least. your avoidance of him was making more sense with the words currently leaving your lips.

“wouldn’t fair well for me,” you mumbled; the disappointment clear in your tone. the annoyance at the fact there was clearly something stopping you. your mood was falling, charles noticed that easily.

and while he himself wasn’t overjoyed with how the night was concluding, he wouldn’t let it be ruined.

“it’s okay,” charles reassured quickly, his lips pressing to your forehead delicately instead ━ you shouldn’t have to explain yourself, he didn’t want you to feel as if you needed too. “let’s get you to bed.” he grinned.

the affectionate action caught you off guard, left speechless as his hand grasped yours and began to directing you out of the elevator. it only having you feeling regret and self pity for letting the moment escape your fingertips.

which only piled on you tenfold when he left your hotel room barely after making it two steps inside.

climbing into the sheets alone had never been so painful.

painful. a good word to describe the next few interactions with charles.

abu dhabi had you on edge. you didn’t know how to face him.

it was typical, finding yourself sat next to him in the drivers press conference. feeling as if every journalist in the room would take note of the exchanging glances, the way your eyes would quickly find something else if his met yours. the way you listened to him speak a little too intently.

charles however had no worries. not a thought in his mind as he shamelessly admired you, listening to every answer you gave. watching as you reacted to the words of other drivers or questions that weren’t to do with you. he couldn’t look away.

you’d avoided him all morning and yesterday; having not caught you after vegas.

charles was used to such behaviour, except now, he knew why. and your reasoning wasn’t good enough to him.

you two could be friends; it didn’t need to be one extreme or the other. so he had no shame in putting in effort to deter yours.

it was frustrating, almost as if every corner you turned he was there. all weekend, if you were not in the haas hospitality or your motor home, charles was near.

it was no coincidence, leaving the press pen at the same time; passing him after any interview, stuck next to him at the drivers briefing.

you couldn’t avoid the conversation, every moment with him was just pushing you further to the edge ━ your self control was hanging by a very thin thread and you were almost ready to cut it every time those damn green eyes linger on yours.

when you arrived at your hotel after qualifying, it was easy to spot him waiting in the lobby. an odd sight considering the lurking fans.

it made sense however, when charles beelined towards the elevator the moment you did.

you had to hold your breath as you both got inside, biting down on the inside of your cheek to not allow your own frustration bubble over.

“what are you doing?” the question was asked through gritted teeth, and the confusion that masked charles face did little to convince you he was as clueless as he looked.

the twinkle of amusement in his eye revealed enough.

“what do you mean?” the question was almost a challenge, charles peering down at you inquisitively - as if he didn’t know the answer himself.

you took a breath, shaking your head ever so slightly.

to put it simply, you were annoyed. at the world for putting you in this position, at yourself for getting to this point, and him for making it more difficult than it had to be.

“you’re stalking me.” you accused; eyes narrowing into a glare; one that intensified as his own lips curved upwards, and if you weren’t so focused on being annoyed you would’ve swooned over the dimples that lined his cheeks in doing so.

“i am not stalking you,” charles mused, laughing at the accusation as he leant against the wall behind him.

you expected more of an explanation ━ your own eyes trained ahead of you at the elevator doors that remained shut. looking at him was too risky.

“you are. you’re everywhere.” you huffed; not pleased with how clear the frustration was in your tone.

charles wasn’t phased, not in the slightest ━ the grin hadn’t left his face; almost as if any conversation with you was more than enough. even if you were huffing and puffing.

he wasn’t sure how the infatuation had spiralled so quickly; maybe he just wanted what he couldn’t have. the man wasn’t too use to rejection, and last week definitely stumped him.

or maybe he just refused to let you run away from what you clearly both see. feel. there was a connection here, he was sure of it.

“are we not friends?” charles question had you drawing a deep breath, suddenly aware of how slow these elevators were. and recognising the first flaw with being blessed with a penthouse room.

“of course we’re friends.” you rolled your eyes, speaking with such certainty as if you needed to remind yourself. friends.

you two were friends at most, that’s all you’d allow the pair of you to be.

“then you shouldn’t actively avoid me.” charles hummed, no shame in calling out your obvious behaviour that he’d let go on for too long.

it was humorous, the way your jaw dropped in offence at the accusation you knew was true.

“i do not.” your voice went up an octave, not even you could believe your own lie ━ nor try to sell it, avoiding his eye now as your leg began to bounce impatiently. it was becoming suffocating, in an enclosed space with him.

“you do.” charles mocked your voice ever so slightly, but the smile that went along with it left you no room to complain as you glanced over at him; your own lips curving upwards for a mere second.

you had nothing to say. to you it was clear, he knew where you stood. but you weren’t budging. it’s not like you wanted to deprive yourself of him; but you refused to sacrifice your career for a man. call it paranoia; but you don’t want to find out the consequences of adding truth to rumours.

“you don’t trust yourself around me.” charles had you read, and he wanted you to know it.

you two could be, should be, able to be friends at least. the monegasque was unsure as to why he was so set on such thing; some of you, was better than none.

“don’t flatter yourself.” you mumbled, attempting to dismiss his words; he was right. hit the nail on the head actually, but you wouldn’t admit that.

“we can be friends.” charles huffed when he realised he was straying from his original intentions; he didn’t want to provoke or tempt you. just make it clear there can be a platonic relationship here. you shouldn’t be scared of that.

“we are.” you reminded, eyebrows raising as you looked up at him; finally holding eye contact with the driver for more than a few seconds.

“then stop avoiding me.” charles repeated; and he’d be ashamed of how desperate he sounded if he had any room to care. but you were more of a pressing issue.

if he hadn’t called you out on a whole range of fronts you would’ve commented on his desperation; the elevator ding beating you to it regardless as the doors slid open.

“fine. only because you care so much,” your reply was playful; attempting to sound amused and unbothered ━ maybe that would distract from the fact you were agreeing with him.

you only had another day of being around him, you could easily do a day with him. las vegas was an example of your strength and will.

but as his grin widened, dimples and all, green eyes still pouring into yours as he backed out of the elevator; you knew it was never going to be easy.

the sticks and stones they throw froze mid-air

everyone wants him, that was my crime

the wrong place at the right time

of course it wasn’t easy.

you’d kept true to your word, he’d called you out so you finally relented.

the only solace you found in allowing yourself to get closer to charles was the fact you were right.

every moment spent with him felt like a ticking time bomb. you were cracking, you knew it. deep down you knew it was only a matter of time until you shattered and he’d be there to pick up every piece.

at first you’d coincidentally ran into him at your favourite cafe in monaco. not the first time you’d seen him there; but the first time he signalled you to sit down.

it was harmless at first, a quick catch up. one you’d have with any other colleague you’d bump into in public during winter break.

but there was something about seeing him in such casual attire, hoodie and sweats portraying him in a new light you couldn’t help but take a liking too.

what should’ve been five minutes of small talk was two hours of conversation; two hours of mind numbing tension, pretending to not notice the way his eyes would linger on your lips every now and then. or acting oblivious to the way you laughed at every second word that left his lips.

he parted with an offer to go on a run together sometime, and you accepted with the assumption it would be an empty gesture. a plan that never gets put in place.

but then he texted you a few days later; and suddenly you were struggling to find excuses to reject the offer. struggling to find the want too.

a run wasn’t dangerous. you’d both be pre-occupied.

and you were, until you were standing there puffed; exhausted and puffed; and struggling to not grow further flustered of the sight of a sweaty charles.

muscles flexing against the tight shirt, hair messier than usual; cheeks slightly flushed.

inviting him up to your place for a drink wasn’t your intention, but your mouth was a step ahead of your brain.

uncharted territory had now been crossed. messages were swapped regularly, weekly runs together was almost routine. then hours of conversation at either your apartment or his.

if you hadn’t fallen for him before, you definitely had now. it was beyond physical attraction. and it was mutual.

it was the way you found yourself always ensuring you had the biscuits he’d practically raided the first time he was over, always in an unopened packet awaiting him.

the way he found himself buying the lime flavoured water you preferred to drink after exercising; knowing your odd quirk of not being keen on regular water.

the way he came over with your coffee order and a chocolate croissant from your shared favourite cafe when you bailed on your run, apologising to him because you’d become run down with a cold.

“you didn’t have to do that,” you’d sniffled, heart fluttering at the kind gesture.

“what else are friends for,” charles had practically cheesed.

you’d like to convince yourself he was still at a safe distance, it made it easier to ignore the fact this wouldn’t last forever.

the limbo state was not ideal to neither of you, but it was much better than doing what you felt was inevitable. avoiding him again.

except that would just be much harder this time. before it was a crush; now you were swoon. you counted down the days to see him. awaited his name to appear on your phone.

there’d been close calls; moments where you thought one of you would crack.

like the time you struggled to grab a glass out of his cupboard, tippy toes and all it was out of reach.

you felt him behind you before seeing him, hand finding your hip as his other arm simply reached over you to grab a glass; quick to turn on your feet you hadn’t expected him so close.

“thanks,” you had mumbled, clearly flustered as you looked up at him ━ trapped between his frame and the counter; eyes finding his lips immediately.

silence fell over the pair of you, awaiting one of you to make a move.

you were glad charles had cleared his throat and stepped aside, returning to a safe distance ━ because you didn’t think you’d be capable of such thing in that moment.

charles questioned how he managed to do such thing, each and every time you got close to him he doubted how long he could resist being selfish.

he’d failed to realise back in abu dhabi that he neither could trust himself around you. he’d put in so much effort to prove to you that friends was possible, so naive to the fact it may be worse than before.

while he loved your company, it was a cruel reminder that you had ruled out the possibility of this going further. any dreams or fantasies of more would always stay that way; dreams. not reality.

it frustrated him beyond belief, not that he showed it. the way you gazed up at him through your pretty eyes; as if you’d do anything he asked. the way you always leant towards him when you laughed; how easily he could make you laugh.

and he couldn’t do anything about it. because he wasn’t selfish, you feared the consequences of being with him so he would not push you to face them.

deep down however, the pair of you knew it could only be a matter of time.

yet it still stung how easily it could’ve been avoided.

you weren’t meant to go out tonight, it had been a last minute and spontaneous decision; pressured by your friends who insisted, claiming you missed too many girls nights as it is. that winter break was there time to make up for all you miss while away during the season.

you got kicked out of the first bar you found yourself in, all because one of your friends picked a fight with the bartender; but that didn’t bother you in the moment.

on to the next.

it took a whole eight minutes being at the club, one you had subtlety name dropped to get yourself and your friends into, to spot charles in the crowd.

your friends eyes had found him first; your own merely following theirs in curiosity, and you were grateful that all four of you were preoccupied looking at the driver so they would fail to realise your own longing.

“i have not seen him in ages,” your friend stella spoke first; clueless to the developed friendship between the pair of you. you hadn’t really told anyone, call it trust issues.

“we should go say hi,” stella continued; looking at you all with hopefulness; eyes having lit up and appearing incredibly eager.

you couldn’t think of a worse idea. alcohol and charles almost ruined you once; and that was a few months ago. you didn’t think you had that much self control left.

“we have our own driver right here,” your friend had joked, rejecting the idea as she nudged your arm; purely because she wanted a girls night. and you laughed at the stupidity, ready to play along for your own selfish interests.

“unfortunately y/n, you’re not one stella can sleep with again,” your other friend joked through a smirk, alcohol causing word vomit, because by the way stella quickly slapped her arm told you that information she didn’t want shared.

the revelation had your face falling flat, not able to hide such thing as you pursed your lips in thought.

“you and charles?” the words escaped your lips with too much interest but you couldn’t stop yourself. suddenly needing to know more.

stella had let out an exasperated sigh.

you were grateful to know your friend beside you who rejected the idea of speaking to him was as shocked as you.

“ages ago.” stella tried to downplay, waving the idea off. although then she peered over her shoulder to look at the driver again, an innocent smile spreading across her face.

you nodded slightly, trying to muster a fake smile. you couldn’t be mad; it wouldn’t be rational to be mad. even in the slightest.

“i’m gonna go talk to him.” stella announced, and you could only swallow intently as your friend whined about it being girls night, watching as stella promised she’d be back before weaving through the crowd.

you were staring, but you didn’t care.

left to watch as stella made her presence known. watch as charles face lit up at the familiar face, embrace her quickly and introduce her to those he was stood with.

you could tell he was slightly tipsy, the way he was swaying side to side; even with his arm now draped around stella’s shoulders.

the sight made you sick. jealousy was an ugly trait but you’d never embraced it like you were now.

jealous of the fact your friend didn’t have to worry in going after what she wanted. jealous that she could quite happily cling to charles without worrying who saw.

your mood had plummeted, there was no hiding it. your friends definitely noticing but not questioning as they too glanced over at stella to note her progress.

it wasn’t until charles’ eyes found yours across the room that you looked away.

not in shame, you didn’t care that he knew you were watching; but more so to not make it clear how annoyed you were from the sight alone.

charles tensed up the moment he saw you ━ he hadn’t known you were here. and now that he did, the company he was with suddenly wasn’t good enough.

he’d picked up on your cold stare though; the way you failed to offer him your usual sweet smile.

suddenly he felt guilty, quick to remind himself he wasn’t doing anything wrong.

the driver distracted himself momentarily, tuning back into the conversation that was going on around him. but his mind was now elsewhere. you were consuming his thoughts now.

intentions to keep his distance were thrown out the window when he noticed you in his peripheral; standing at the bar alone.

he shouldn’t approach you; but the idea of letting you sit there and think he would rather spend his time with the blonde on his arm than you didn’t sit well with him either.

so he found himself excusing himself, heading to the bar where you stood.

you’d grabbed your drink, and the moment you turned around to head back to your seat and continue your moping, you’d spotted charles headed straight towards you.

a creature of habit; avoid him was your first thought. so you attempted to pretend to not see him, a sudden sense of urgency as you headed back to the booth your two friends were still sat at.

charles picked up on such thing however, his own urgency increasing as he managed to get ahead of you; practically cutting you off.

you’d been so desperate in your attempts to avoid him and his eyes that you collided, your drink taking the brunt of the hit as it fell to the ground; pouring ice and liquid on the floor, thankfully missing the pair of you.

you were quick to glare up at him, made to watch as he put his hands up in innocence and let out a quick and not too meaningful ‘sorry.’

you didn’t want to speak to him. he was an easy target for your current anger, so stepping around him was easy; you’d go without your drink for now, wanting to return to the safety of your booth.

but charles didn’t think that was fair.

he’d grabbed your arm before you made it two steps away; your name falling from his lips almost in warning.

“you don’t get to be mad at me.” charles huffed, it wasn’t fair. you told him that friends was the only possibility, so you had no reason to be glaring daggers and avoiding him as if he’d done something wrong.

he was right, you knew he was right. you weren’t even mad at him. but you were mad; fed up with the constant deprival you had to put yourself through, at how much you cared about what people would say ━ that you couldn’t put you and him out of your shared misery.

but unfortunately you had nothing else to aim your anger at; it was just you and charles in this position, meaning he fell into your firing line.

“i think you care too much about what i think of you.” you tried to dismiss his comment; not wanting to admit he was right, calling out his constant efforts of chasing you.

you watched as his jaw tensed, the breath he let out and his eyes drifting aside as he tried to rationalise his thoughts before he said something he’d regret.

“i didn’t know you knew stella.” charles huffed; deciding on what could be a civil approach. he didn’t need to explain himself, but that would be easier than playing into your game and letting you try create a rift between the pair of you.

you wanted to throw the words back at his face; but you stopped yourself. neither he nor stella owed you any loyalty when it came to one another; definitely not back then, so you couldn’t use it against him.

“it doesn’t matter.” you tried to sound calm, remove yourself from the animosity you held. if you could just get away from him, go home, and pretend this never happened.

“it clearly does.” charles didn’t miss a beat; it would have been easier to blindly believe you but how was that possible when you were refusing to meet his eyes and running away from him.

you shook your head, not knowing what to say because you couldn’t disagree there. he was right; like usual, surprise, surprise. truths were harder to ignore when it was coming from his mouth.

“it shouldn’t.” you spoke simply, before turning on your heel and heading towards the bathroom now; anywhere to get away. the thread was getting thinner, you didn’t trust yourself around him.

he’d debated on following you for a couple seconds, knowing what he should do. return to his friends. to stella; there was no complications there.

but yet he found himself just a few steps behind you, refusing to let you get the last word. to let you fall back into your old habits of avoiding him.

a part of you knew he was following you, or maybe that’s what you wanted to believe. your want to get away from him was just a product of self preservation, not true desire.

so you weren’t surprised to hear your name once you were about to reach the bathroom. turning around to face him with a sigh. you should’ve pretended to not hear him.

“what are you doing?” you huffed; looking at him with lost eyes because you were running out of things to say or do, unsure where to go from here.

“what do you want?” charles question caught you off guard, alongside the fact he took maybe one or two steps too many when catching up to you ━ so close and you couldn’t find the strength to create any distance.

you pursed your lips, shaking your head ever so slightly.

the lack of an answer spoke for itself, you knew what you wanted. him. but admitting such thing would be dangerous.

“you know we can’t━” you started to say, needing to remind yourself that as tempting as he was right now it wasn’t possible.

he cut you off however. charles knew what you thought; what you presumed others would think.

“i don’t care about anyone else. what do you want?” charles repeated, speaking with such intent it would’ve been intimidating if your mind wasn’t a scramble of thoughts.

he was practically begging you to spell it out for him; to face the truth of the matter. if you could look him in the eye and tell him you were happy with what you both had right now, he’d walk away.

but you were never going to do that. you could only bend so far.

you finally snapped.

connecting your lips with his was the easiest option, and the moment you did it was as if nothing else mattered. relief washing over the pair of you, as if a giant weight was suddenly lifted.

there’d been the slightest amount of hesitant in the action, but that was forgotten immediately.

it was rushed and messy at first, months worth of tension bubbling to the surface as your hands both pawed at one another eagerly; grabbing whatever you could.

having your hands on him wasn’t something you’d take for granted; gripping his shirt; moving to his biceps before wrapping around his neck.

his intentions were similar to yours, his large hands sprawling amongst the sides of your waist ━ not bothered by the way it caused your dress to bunch ever so slightly. he tugged you closer too, as if he was scared you’d leave his grasp.

he managed to back you into the bathroom without disconnecting your lips; hand only leaving your waist to fiddle blindly with the lock.

the kiss was still messy, eager and heated; gasping into his mouth when your back suddenly hit the wall. charles body enclosing you immediately, your legs suddenly feeling week as his hips pressed forward against yours.

it was not surprising that it didn’t stop their, neither of you were stopping now that the ice had been broken.

the night concluding with your hands spread on the wall ahead of you as charles pounded you from behind, dress bunched around your waist and panties pulled aside.

“gotta be quiet mon amour,” he’d whispered into your ear after your moans continued to grow in volume ━ his hand then moving to your jaw, sliding two fingers past your lips to shut you up.

you would’ve died happily in that moment, moments away from the best orgasm of your life.

no matter what happened, you wouldn’t be regretting it.

and I break down, then he's pullin' me in

in a world of boys, he's a gentleman

you hadn’t seen charles since that night in monaco.

he’d left for maranello not too long after, then you spent the rest of break in america; the season approaching relatively quickly.

messages were swapped, but nothing more.

testing was hectic, you didn’t get to see him or spend time with him even if you wanted too.

you weren’t sure you wanted to however. you missed him, that had been mutually expressed over text. but both you and he were scared; unsure how to navigate what happens now.

because unfortunately the circumstances hadn’t changed, you’d just gotten a taste of one another.

by the time it was raceday at bahrain, all excitement for the start of the season had left your body.

thursday set the tone; all your hard work, months of avoidance and deprival ━ it suddenly meant nothing.

you first caught wind of such in the press conference, sat alongside max, lewis, lando, carlos and alex.

when you finally got asked a question, your breath got stuck in your throat.

“did you enjoy your winter break? a new trainer in charles it seems?”

the question was posed so innocently, you knew the tone. the cheery and amused light heartedness to mask the undertones; it was accusing. you knew it was; any girl would get it.

you knew photos were circulating of you and charles running around monaco, but that wasn’t an issue. there were photos of you and daniel out for lunch as well. ones of you and toto exchanging hello’s.

what a headline; you got along with people you worked with.

“uh yeah,” you laughed off; biting your tongue, like usual. you knew when to pick your battles. “i’m no good at padel so, stuck to running.” you hummed, left to watch as the journalist nodded almost unconvinced.

it was a sinking feeling; they knew, everyone knew. it’d somehow got out. that you’d slept together. paranoia; you had to remind yourself. they couldn’t know.

“is it difficult to have relations off track with competitors?” he was looking you dead in the eye as he posed another question to you, and it hit a nerve.

you shifted ever so slightly in your seat. you hadn’t faced these sort of questions since your rookie year, when journalists didn’t realise what they should and shouldn’t imply.

you had to hold back a scoff; biting down on the inside of your cheek.

“is that a question for all of us or just me?” you practically challenged, and the awkwardness that fell over the room only had the pit in your stomach growing.

it was as if they all knew something you didn’t.

that was all you were asked, all you could think about as you sat on the couch, itching to get out of this damn room.

but that was just the start.

entering the haas hospitality your gut feeling made sense when you were faced with the entirety of the press team awaiting you.

granted, the press team was only four people. but you only ever really dealt with your own press officer if it was without warning.

the whole conversation was a blur, you felt sick the moment it begun.

‘we need to have a meeting,’

‘there’s photos of you and leclerc,’

‘damming to your reputation. our reputation,’

‘unacceptable behaviour and a breach of contract,’

‘negotiating to not let mainstream media run with it,’

‘we’re opening our own private investigation.’

you were being spoken at, no room to reply, no ounce of sympathy. you could feel the disgust as they spoke. as if you’d actually done something wrong.

“investigation?” you repeated in confusion, bewildered as you glanced between the lot of them.

you didn’t know what to say. or do.

deny? beg them to cover it up? apologise?

you felt like that 13 year old girl again, that anything you said wouldn’t matter. keeping your mouth shut as they broke out in chatter again.

short. blunt. your own press officer not even sticking around as they the dispersed, even mentioning that gene would probably be calling later.

you felt like you were going to throw up the moment you got into the privacy of your drivers room, it only taking a few seconds to find the photos flooding your timeline.

monaco. it was undeniable. it was definitely him, definitely you, kissing.

you held back your tears, determined to not let the comments ruin you. your press teams words lingering, but you pushed them back.

the day dragged, you were on edge; one wrong move and an on pour of tears would arise to the surface. just needed to wait till you were in the privacy of your hotel room.

these people would not see you cry.

you hadn’t expected the cold shoulder from your own team. but it was your manager that was the tip of the iceberg.

you hadn’t seen him all day, a close friend you’d consider him, he’d been with you since f3.

“where have you been?” you breathed as you climbed into the car, more than relieved to be leaving the track. and hopefully every conversation that was had.

“cleaning your mess.” he’d muttered in annoyance, and you couldn’t help but shake your head as your jaw clenched.

“not you too,” it was an attempt of a joke, head resting against the window. “don’t know why people are acting like i shared the teams 3 year plan with the enemy,” you huffed.

but you were only met with silence, causing your eyes to glance to your manager who was focused on his laptop in his lap.

“i mean it jason. the way i was treated today was━” you began to speak up at his silence, anger was easier than the self pity.

“what did you expect?” his question was venomous, shutting you up quickly as you stared at him with a slack jaw. it took a few moments to process, how he was on side with them.

or more importantly, not on your side. the guy who you pay to be on your side.

“for my personal life to remain personal.” you spoke like it was obvious.

you had feared this, yes, but that didn’t mean it was right. maybe you held onto hope your lack of faith in the world was misplaced. but everyone was proving you right.

he shook his head simply, so disappointingly you had to laugh, eyes gazing back out the window as you rapidly approached the hotel.

“i thought you didn’t want to be known for this.” his comment was a throw away one, but it cut you deep. his insinuation one he knew would sting, so you didn’t hide the fact it did.

“known for what?” you spoke through gritted teeth; if he wanted to insult you he better not half ass it.

there was moment of silence, hesitance; but not long enough.

“sleeping around.” he shrugged, still typing away on his computer. “great way to halt contract talks. i mean come on y/n,” he groaned.

you weren’t sure if he was right, you’d like to think your talent would over shine paddock gossip. but if he was right, the problem should lie with teams misogyny. not your sex life.

you highly doubt ferarri will hesitate resigning charles because of the matter.

you didn’t say another word, not trusting your voice; it was too much. felt like you were being attacked from every angle. ambushed even.

you’d slammed the door the moment you got out the car, urgently getting inside the hotel; managing to find the elevator through blurry eyes, tears threatening to spill.

almost there.

the elevator ride was testing, the silence made your short breaths and sniffles hard to ignore as you tiptoed on the line of breaking.

the final straw however, was charles himself leaving his hotel room as you navigated your way to yours.

your name had never sounded so delicate coming from his lips, as if he knew that you were fragile, sympathetic eyes as he took a few steps towards you.

“don’t━” you breathed out, voice breaking on you before you could say his name. your hand raising to tell him to stay where he was.

the first tear fell, silently.

“i’m so sorry,” he breathed out; cautiously stepping forwards despite your action. it broke him, the sight of you. he’d never seen you so upset.

overjoyed, pissed off, ecstatic, confused, riled up; he’d seen it all. but never had he seen you cry.

“you’re the last person i want to see right now.” you managed to get out.

lie.

complete lie, but unfortunately once more he was an easy target. the face of today’s events and the reason for fractures in practically every professional relationship you’d formed over the years.

charles didn’t take your words to heart, watching as you fumbled to find your room key; your shaky hands had him frowning, behind you now as he grabbed your arm when you took a step inside.

“please,” charles sighed; desperate for you to let him help. let him comfort you. he felt responsible, but it wasn’t guilt that was pushing him towards you.

just the need to ensure you were okay.

he’d barely received a slap on the wrist. told by his press team to ‘be more careful next time.’ and reminded issues would arise if talks of strategy and racing came to light.

that was that. his day went on. he almost got ahead of himself, optimistic the day could end with him showing up at your door to tell you that you never had anything to worry about.

but word spread quickly in the paddock, and charles caught onto the double standards incredibly quickly with how you were being spoken about in comparison to him.

you didn’t trust your voice once more, simply shaking your head ‘no’ as you got inside, attempting to shake his grasp.

he didn’t let you however, which was almost a relief.

the door shut behind the pair of you, charles tugging you towards his chest immediately.

you had no more strength, no fight left; simply letting him do so as the tears poured.

your head met his chest, arms clinging to his shirt as his arms went around you; holding you close as he mumbled encouraging words.

he felt like a safe place, allowing you to be weak and vulnerable with no fear for the first time in a long time.

quiet sobs and sniffles escaped you as you shook in his hold. it wasn’t just a days worth of torment, no, but all the other shit you put up with from the start of your career.

charles wasn’t sure what to say, just that it’d be okay. let it out. i’ve got you.

his hand was running through your hair delicately, and you somehow register the multiple kisses he pressed to the top of your head; such subtle actions that managed to slow your heart rate.

“i’m so sorry,” charles words were whispered, it was what brought you out of your own head; teary eyed peering up at him as you shook your head.

this wasn’t his fault.

“not your fault,” you spoke through a deep breath, starting to gain your composure. still timid, but you’d gotten the tears out.

“it’s not yours either.” charles spoke in certainty, sounding pissed off. because he was. and it made your stomach flip.

it was the bare minimum, but hearing someone be in your corner was exactly what you needed. the fact it was charles was just a bonus.

“i mean it’s more my fault than yours. i didn’t leave you alone, putain, i am sorry,” he began to ramble. the guilt was eating him alive. you’d tried to avoid this ━ he couldn’t help but feel as if he threw you into the lions den.

you disagreed however. deep down, this all felt inevitable. like it was a matter of when, not if. you were so scared of this happening because apart of you knew there was no avoiding it.

“i don’t regret it.” you told him in certainty, hand moving to cup his cheek; offering a sad smile. “it’s just━ not fair.” you mumbled.

his smile mirrored yours, lacking the usual brightness it held as thumb lifted to your cheeks; brushing away the tears staining your skin.

“it’s gonna be okay. i’ll fix this.” charles promised, but it wasn’t a promise he could keep. you knew that, your head tilting aside as you sighed.

his intentions were pure, held your best interest at heart.

“m’ just gonna have to let it blow over.” you told him, taking a sharp inhale. that didn’t answer the question that lingered between the pair of you.

what this was. what you two were.

he nodded ever so slightly, frustration growing at the fact he couldn’t fix it himself. he wanted to help. to rid you both of the outside noise and judgmental opinions.

“but i think━” you’d cut yourself off, you didn’t want to say it.

he knew however, by the way your grip had tightened on his shirt. the way your eyes held sympathy and sorrow. he knew what you were going to say.

“i know,” charles sighed; nodding in reassurance.

this needed to stop. whatever this was, it couldn’t go further. not for now at least; charles knew that.

rumours won’t die down if there is still truth to them.

your bottom lip quivered slightly at the sight of the sad smile he showed you; the way he was so willing to comply.

you hated the fact you both had to suffer, all for what?

“i’ll stay away, i promise,” charles hummed; biting down on the inside of his cheek as he ran his fingers through your hair once more.

you still had no words, because it was the last thing you wanted. yet somehow was what you needed.

you’d like to say to hell with it, to tell him you didn’t care. that you could be together, and figure out the latter.

but today had been hell; you weren’t sure it was something you could get used too.

“thank you,” you whispered out; charles only response was pulling you close once more, knowing when he let you go, it would be for good.

he had to let you go.

but if I'm all dressed up, they might as well be looking at us

if they call me a slut, you know it might be worth it for once

charles stayed true to his word.

it was obvious, the way you two steered clear of each other.

talk of you and him died down, the paddock found something else to focus on within a couple weeks; and it was just another story for the history books that would be brought up every now and then.

their was awkwardness in the team however.

their investigation closed with no findings, something you laughed at.

a motivator; to get the fuck out of there.

it paid off, comfortably beating your teammate. dragging the car into the points most weeks.

talks with mercedes was going well, progressing nicely ━ you wanted to emphasise to your manager that charles hadn’t been mentioned once from them either.

but you weren’t going to dwell on the past.

not audibly at least.

charles was a sacrifice you hated making, and it was mutual.

it was cruel, the way you were too scared to meet his eye if cameras were around. scared one wrong move and you’d be jumped on by prying eyes and gossipers.

charles too shared your fear; he didn’t want to put you in a compromising position. and while it was physically painful to cut you off completely, he managed.

none was easier than some, it seemed.

it was laughable, how the pair of you actually believed the avoidance would stick this time. that it would actually work.

couldn’t even make it to summer break, a few months apart was bound to be all you could endure.

monaco, a race you’ll never forget.

your signing with mercedes was announced on the thursday; a milestone in your career, a highlight.

you were ecstatic, nay-sayers and doubters did little to dull your mood ━ nothing would ruin such an achievement.

but it motivated you.

you heard it all before, when you signed with haas. how it was a PR move, not on merit. for the money you would bring in. the commercial value.

it was the same thing, and the need to prove people wrong was always a blessing when you got in the car.

it’d been a wet qualifying, playing into your favour. putting the car into p3 meant everything would’ve had fallen into place. and it did.

you were overjoyed, the smile had not been wiped off your face. you were proving that contract was yours based off your talent.

you went on to hold onto p3 in the race and secure a podium, you were high off adrenaline and excitement the moment you got out of the car.

you’d handled the pressure, failed to make a mistake; blessed to have had your best qualifying at the hardest place to overtake.

the other headline of the weekend?

charles had finally won his home race.

he wasn’t on your mind, not as you shared the podium. or as you faced the media together afterwards.

you cared deeply for charles, but this was your childhood dream. years worth of hard-work had finally paid off. being near him wasn’t hard, for once, because you had way too many things to currently be happy about.

it was civi and casual, friendly; in the cool down room, on the podium; in the interview.

it wasn’t until later that night, on a random super-yacht, surrounded by drunken socialites and f1 personalities that temptation reached you once more.

you’d barely had a drink, being pulled in every way and direction; talking to many that you didn’t have time to sip the half full glass in your hand.

charles knew this; he’d been watching you all night.

his dream had come true, winning in monaco; in front of his home fans.

call him greedy for wanting more as he stood on the yacht, surrounded by his friends as his eyes settled on you.

he couldn’t help but think of the only way to make this night perfect; you.

the praise and congratulations from everyone else was nice, but he was dying to hear it from you.

to congratulate you as well. on your podium. on your contract.

he thought he was over it, the unfairness of it all. but this was a new challenge.

watching as you stood there, hugging everyone. beaming and laughing, as you should.

would it be so wrong for him to congratulate you as well? to steal a couple minutes of your time? he’d promised to stay away, but this had to be an exception.

right?

so charles went against his word, weaving through the crowd the moment you caught a break in conversations.

uncharacteristically dismissing those who tried to speak to him as he set on his way towards you, nothing would stop him.

“hey,” charles made his presence known; capturing your attention; and the way your eyes lit up and lips curved upwards, he wanted to kill whoever had deprived him of such sight for however many months.

“hi!” you couldn’t help but sound surprised, pleasantly surprised.

you’d been wanting to talk to him; which wasn’t anything new. needing to talk to him however, just unsure how to navigate such thing.

“congratulations. sure you’ve heard it all, but you deserve this.” charles words were genuine; smiling down at you proudly, and while you had heard it all the past couple hours; it meant more coming from him. “the contract as well. huge news,” he added.

your nose scrunched up slightly, grinning ━ pure happiness present because you really were oh so happy.

“thank you,” you smiled; nodding appreciatively. “i should say the same to you. i know how much this win means to you,” you spoke; and charles could only smile at the way you sounded so sincere.

“thank you,” his turn to offer thanks, a silence falling over the pair of you.

that was all you should say, all you were sure was excusable.

it was clear, the way you both had so much on the tip of your tongue; too scared to let it out. neither wanting to be the one to crack. to undone all the hard work.

charles so desperately wanted to rant his heart out, remind both you and himself that the past few months had been undeserved torture. and he was convinced he was going to for a moment.

but he couldn’t. he wouldn’t be selfish with you.

“well i’ll see you━” charles had cleared his throat, ready to do the right thing. to walk away, like he promised he would.

but you cut him off. scared if you didn’t tell him now, you never would.

“wait.” you interrupted, pursing your lips; and he was happy to shut up. he didn’t need any convincing to stay put.

“i uh, with my mercedes contract…” you trailed off; biting your lip. “i made it clear, what expectations would be of me. on and off track, obviously. like anyone would,” you rambled slightly; nervously even.

charles wasn’t sure he’d ever seen you nervous.

you were nervous because of what you were implying.

you’d made it clear you didn’t want to be held to any individual expectations off track, that your relations with others wouldn’t concern the team if it didn’t jeopardise the team.

you were grateful, how understanding mercedes were. a breath of fresh air really. so much you’d basically outright told them that you didn’t want you and charles to be an issue, if anything were to arise between the pair of you.

you’d figured if you had a team that backed you, handling outside noise and assumptions would be made a lot easier.

“me and you, it wouldn’t be an issue.” you summed up; practically spitting it out. it felt weird, suddenly lacking confidence as you referenced a ‘you and him.’ worried that ship had sailed.

you watched as his eyebrows raised, lips parting in surprise.

he hadn’t expected you to say such thing, the one thing he’d dreamt of you saying one too many times.

“if that uh, you know. ever happens, i don’t know,” you added on; feeling the need to back pedal, not wanting to come off headstrong. it was the reason for your hesitance. you and charles had never discussed what you were, because it never seemed possible.

charles wasn’t sure what to say. his first instinct was to kiss you; because it seemed as if this was the best night of his life, with all his hopes and dreams coming true.

but his care for you trumped all.

“people will still talk,” he couldn’t help but remind softly. not to argue against you, but to ensure you knew exactly what you were implying. he knew the rush you were feeling, first podium. fresh off multiple highs, he didn’t want you to come crashing down tomorrow and regret these words tonight.

he didn’t know you’d already assessed all your options, weighed up the two cons. your mind had been made up, you just needed to bite the bullet.

you’d already been through it, called every name in the book. may as well make it all for something.

“let them.” you breathed out, a shy smile following suit, mischievous almost, quoting him from that night in vegas. you’d said it with confidence, such conviction he knew you meant it.

his smile was bright, practically beaming at you as he nodded. unsure what to do next, but he didn’t care. he liked the way things were looking.

he hadn’t expected you to kiss him, in the middle of the crowded floor, but god he wasn’t complaining ━ hands finding the small of your back as yours wrapped around his neck.

you’d pulled away shortly afterwards, not creating any distance as your foreheads touched.

“if you still want this of course,” you spoke; just above a whisper, realising you hadn’t really let him confirm he still wanted this.

he’d laughed, at the idea alone he didn’t. shaking his head at the thought as he brought his hand up to cup your face.

“all i could think about tonight, was that the only thing that would make today truely perfect, would be sharing it with you.” charles confessed; taking in the way you lit up at his words, watching as any last doubts or fears vanished from your frame.

you were relaxed, happy and carefree; not one bit of energy spent on anyone around you. who saw, who cared; it meant nothing to you.

you giggled as you pressed your lips to his again, passionately this time; charles leaning over you as he held your body close to his, smiling against your pink lips.

it felt incredibly cliche, as if you were the only two people on the yacht in the moment.

he’d murmured something about getting out of here only moments later, you being quick to agree.

patience was something you’d both demonstrated incredibly well over the last year; safe to say you both had none left to spare.

navigating the crowd hand in hand almost felt like a rush, relieving to not care as you followed him off the yacht; giddy like teenagers as you climbed into the back of a car.

he’d barely gotten his address out before you were on him again, lips pressed against his as you gripped his shirt.

charles hand tangled in your hair, revelling in the way your lips felt against his. he’d spent many nights recounting your night together; attempting to cling to the feeling and pleasure it brought. this was ten times better than what his imagination could produce.

the only time you kept your hands off him was the short walk from the car to the elevator of his apartment complex, the moment the doors slid shut you found yourself pressed against the wall ━ his hands gripping your hips and lips attacking your neck.

you became breathless quickly, satisfied hums escaping you; head tilting back to give him as much access as he wanted.

“have i ever told you how beautiful you are mon ange,” charles sighed against your skin; only lifting his head when he heard the doors ring open.

you smiled at him stupidly, taking in the sight. his pretty green eyes, slightly swollen lips and tussled hair. more beautiful than anything you’d ever seen before.

“come on,” you mused with a blush, urging him to head to his room; in quick pursuit.

you’d barley gotten your heels off once inside when charles was snaking his hands under your thighs, hoisting you up as your legs wrapped around his waist.

it didn’t feel really; finally able to have you like this.

“gonna make you feel so good,” charles murmured against your lips as he navigated his way through the apartment, hands squeezing your ass which granted a gasp from you. “deserve so much more than a quickie in the bathroom,” he commented.

while your first time together was more than satisfying, it was rushed. muffled moans and chasing release desperately with fear the moment could’ve been ruined in any moment.

tonight you were all his. no need to keep you quiet, no limit to the positions he could put you in.

he sat at the end of his bed; you not taking long to get comfortable in his lap as your lips moved roughly against his; hips grinding as you did so.

“you won,” you breathed out as you shifted your attention up his jaw, teeth catching his ear momentarily as you kissed at the skin of his neck. “let me make you feel good,” you whispered; charles head tilting back as he audibly groaned. “you deserve it,”

charles always loved praise, his ego thrived on it. but god, hearing it from you? his pants were feeling way too tight.

he couldn’t say no to you, not that’d he’d ever want too.

you didn’t give him any time to reply regardless, climbing off his lap and standing between his legs momentarily, hands holding onto his knees as you pressed one lingering kiss to his lips.

sinking to your knees, you were incredibly eager. a scenario you’d play out too many times as your hands got to work in freeing his cock.

charles lips parted as he rested back on his hands, head tilted downwards as he watched you intently ━ biting down on the inside of his cheek at the sight alone.

his breaths only got heavier as you spat in your hand and jacked him off a couple times, hissing as your thumb rolled over his tip.

the sight was better than you could imagine, as you took him in your mouth and watched his head fall back. his clenched jaw, neck muscles and arms flexing as he groaned.

it had your thighs clenching together, not wasting time in bobbing your head; taking as much of him as you could; hitting the back of your throat each time but it did little to deter you.

“putain,” charles grunted under his breath ━ forcing himself to tilt his head back down to watch you work, hand gathering your hair in a makeshift pony tail. and the way his lips curved into a smirk when your eyes met his had your thighs clenching once more.

“there you go pretty girl, taking me so well,” charles huffed ━ noting the way you gagged around him every now and then, yet showed no signs of slowing down. “mouth is fucking heaven,”

his praise only encouraged you further, doe eyes staring up at him through your lashes; tears welling in your eyes.

your hand was holding his thigh for support, watchinf as he busied himself momentarily by ridding himself of his shirt ━ revealing his toned torso flexing with each sharp breath he took.

“pull your dress down,” his words were direct, a clear demand and with him staring down at you like he was ready to ruin you, you didn’t need to be told twice. tugging your dress down to free your breasts.

his admiring eyes raked your body shamelessly, pleasure only increasing from the sight. you were fucking perfect, and he couldn’t believe this was real.

it was as if you caught on to the moment, reading him perfectly as your efforts picked up ━ keen to make him cum.

and by the way he was starting to tug on your hair, you knew he was close.

he came in your mouth moments later with little warning, and you were practically squirming in your place as you licked him clean.

“you’re perfect,” charles breathed after catching his breath, which happened incredibly quickly; signalling you to climb back into his lap.

you giggled as you did so, grinning as you pressed your lips to his once more; straddling him with ease as your hands spread across his toned chest ━ happy to touch him now that he was back in reach.

his hand moved up your leg, pushing your panties aside and cupping your cunt with little warning; causing you to moan into his mouth.

“you’re fucking soaked,” charles spoke, pulling back to watch your face contort in pleasure; watch as you became putty in his hold. “barely touched you yet baby,” he cooed ━ you couldn’t help but whine, hips bucking against his hand as he circled your clit.

he took in every feature on your pretty face, able to live in the moment and not be rushed like last time. make you feel everything he wanted you too.

“who would’ve guessed you were such a slut,” charles mused; practically toying with you. he couldn’t help himself, not when you looked so pretty panting and whimpering in his lap.

“for you.” you whimpered, hand gripping his bicep tightly as your hips moved against his hand; yearning for more.

he grinned widely at that, rewarding your words as a finger pushed past your folds unexpectedly.

“all for me.” charles hummed in agreement, words still slightly breathless himself as his other hand moved to cup the side of your face, making avoiding his eyes impossible. “all mine.”

the statement had your stomach flipping, words you could used to. something you’d know a long time, but hearing it out loud was so refreshing.

you were his. he was yours.

“please charles,” you whined out impatiently, his toying with your cunt felt good; but you need more, your thighs a painted mess along with his hand by now.

your plea had him hardening again, words sounding so alluring coming from your lips.

“what do you want mon amour?” charles spoke through a breath, eyes gazing over you as if you were the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen. because you were. “tell me, i’ll give it to you,” he promised; thumb grazing your cheek; such a delicate action that didn’t correlate with his thumb teasing your clit expertly.

you whimpered again, cheeks a tint of pink as your eyes fluttered shut momentarily, but they found charles gaze once more.

“all of you,” you spoke. “wanna feel you,” you sighed; his cock was pressing against your inner thigh ━ not helping with the urge to feel him inside you.

his lips curved upwards, pleased with your answer; and unable to deny himself any longer either. you’d both been through enough torture, he wouldn’t be delaying this any longer.

“want me to fuck you yeah?” charles paraphrased for you, hand leaving your cunt to find your waist; lifting you off his lap with ease and laying you beside him.

he was hovering over you within seconds, leaving you to nod eagerly below him. your hands found the hem of your dress, tugging it up and over your head as if that would help entice him.

but he didn’t need any help; he doesn’t think he’d last another second without being inside you.

he slid inside you without another word, your gasps intertwining as your own head fell back against his pillow; eyes fluttering shut at the stretch.

he gave you a moment to adjust, his head falling into the crook of your neck; light kisses peppered on your skin, a contrast to the way he was about to fuck you.

your hands tugging on his hair told him you wanted more; thrusting into you slowly and deeply at first, your mouth fell agape at the angle it hit ━ moans beginning to fall from your lips.

“charles, fuck,” you mumbled ━ fingers moving down his back, sure to leave marks as he gradually picked up the pace.

his thrusts got quicker, but not softer; fucking you into the mattress, all you could do was whimper and moan ━ eyes rolling back at the pleasuring sensation.

“so perfect for me,” charles grunted; the way you were squeezing him was better than he remembered, keeping his focus on your own pleasure because if not, he’d probably cum within moments.

“oh my god,” you all but practically squealed when he moved your leg over his shoulder, feeling as if he was splitting you open; you bit down on your lip to try shut up the now constant sounds.

charles wasn’t having a bar of it however.

“ah, ah,” charles breathed; hand moving to tap your cheek. “wanna hear you gorgeous girl. every fucking sound,” charles told you; eyes pouring into yours which made it clear he wasn’t joking.

you nodded weakly, on cue charles delivering a harsher thrust that had you choking out a moan once more.

it didn’t take long, for you to get brought to the edge; stomach growing tight as your eyes rolled back once more. cumming without warning, unable to process the pleasure you were feeling.

a moment of weakness for charles, watching as you shook beneath him and screamed his name; squeezing him suddenly, he almost came too. he didn’t though thankfully, because his focus was still you.

you weren’t prepared for him to not relent, instead feeling his hand snake between your bodies and find your clit, eyes flying open.

“o-oh,” you gasped, the onslaught of pleasure hard to cope with as your hands gripped onto his back tightly, nails digging into his skin as he smirked down at you.

“take it baby,” charles grunted; eyebrows raising momentarily. “too much?” his question was teasing, and he couldn’t help the breathy chuckle when you shook your head; scared he’d stop. you didn’t want him to stop.

you weren’t sure you could take it, but you were going to try. you’d do anything for him when he was touching you like this.

“so good,” you moaned; tears welling in your eyes quickly from the overstimulation, body jolting with every thrust which hadn’t relented.

his stamina impressive, having not slowed down nor gotten sloppy as he pounded into you.

you were struggling to keep your eyes open now, lost in the pleasure. but charles wanted to watch you, and wanted you to watch him as you pushed you over the edge once more.

“look at me baby,” charles grunted; pinching your clit lightly which had your eyes flying open, meeting his. “gonna watch me as you cum again yeah?” charles told you, his own breaths heavier now as he struggled to not let himself revel in the feeling of you.

you nodded, again, like a broken record; all your effort focused on watching him as your face contorted in pleasure. maybe even a tear or two fell, the familiar feeling washing over you again suddenly as he delivered another harsh thrust. and another. and suddenly it was as if he found new energy somewhere.

you all but screamed his name as you came again suddenly, coming undone on his cock. he was close behind, unable to resist with the way your walls squeezed him again.

your heavy breaths filled the room as charles helped you both ride out your highs, before sliding out of you, he remained above you regardless.

he was looking at you in awe, hand pushing some of your hair away that had gotten stuck to your forehead, earning a lazy smile from you in return.

“i could get used to that,” your words broke the silence; eyes flickering to his lips which gave charles the hint to place a kiss on your lips, a delicate one unlike those shared earlier.

he’d chuckled at your words afterwards, humming in agreement as his hand ran up and down your side comfortingly.

“me too,” charles agreed with a grin; pressing yet another kiss to your lips, a longer one this time; passionate and slow. enjoying the moment. the peace of it all.

when you pulled away moments later, you practically beamed as you urged him off of you; moving to straddle him instead.

you had a lot of time to make up for.

━━━━━

a/n: oh she’s bACK BACK CHARLES FIC YAY

hope u liked, still rusty lol i don’t rlly like the smut but i did enjoy writing the angst hehe

unedited sorry i’ll get to that later like usual oOps

as always feedback is always greatly encouraged and appreciated, means the world to me so pls share ur thoughts 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

luv u all !!!!!!!

#f1 smut #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x reader #f1 angst #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #charles leclerc fic #f1 fic #f1 one shot #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc imagine #driver!reader #charles leclerc

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whore-ibly-hot · 1 year ago

Text

Yan!Husbands Boss x Married! Reader

"Just Another Day at The Office."

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Dub-con, misogyny, name calling, nude photos, coercion, dubcon touching, fem genitalia for reader, mentions of divorce, general perversion, praise, clit play, cheating, readers husband is a scumbag.

(AN: Requested by an Anon early today, and it made me feral.)

Tick... tick... tick... the sound of an office clock rings in your ears, the only sound louder is your heart, pounding in your ribcage. The clock was awfully loud, though you had never noticed it before, when you were coming to bring your husband a warm, home-cooked meal. Maybe then you didn't notice it because you weren't fearing for your future.

Morgan & Cole, the investment firm your husband had been working for for years had been doing better than ever, and in turn, so had your husband. Promotions, expensive raises, and more had been sent his way. The house was even being repainted. All that begs the question, how had you found yourself in this situation.

It was a few nights ago when your husband informed you of the deal he had made with his boss. Morgan, the co-owner of the company, had his sights set on you, apparently. At a holiday party, he approached your husband with an offer, an offer to get a night with you in exchange for another fat raise. You had always known your husband hadn't been the most loving, but you had never imagined his greed could get to this. The worst part was how casual the deal he described was. Approaching a man at an office party and asking to sleep with his life like you were discussing sports frightened you. You had only met Morgan once or twice, and while he seemed charming, him doing something like this made you very much doubt he was in actuality.

You are snapped out of your thoughts by the sound of a door opening. Morgan steps out of his office, fidgeting with his smart-watch when he looks up and sees your meek form in the office lobby. His brow furrows.

"Oh, Mrs. Peters, I hadn't expected you to met me here. I had intended to come pick you up. How long have you been here?" He asks. You gulp. "Not long, just ten or so minutes." You say, trying to hold eye contact. He sighs and shakes his head. "Well, I wish you would have knocked on my office door, I feel awful having left you out here alone. Come, we can head back into my office and chat." His voice is so soothing, and in any other situation it would have been nice. You enter his office, and he closes the door behind him, before sitting at his desk. You take the chair in front of it.

"So, I assume your husband-" His teeth grind as he says this. "Is assume he has gone over what this is about." You nod. "He did... and... and I don't know if I can do this. I don't know you at all, and I'm a married woman." You whimper. Tears begin to slip down your cheeks, and Morgan sighs heavily. He comes around to lean back against the front of the desk, one hand supporting him while the other touches your cheek.

"I know this must be scary, I understand that. But I'm gonna solve both of those problems right now." He kneels down so your eyes meet his. "First, you worry you don't know me. Let me fix that. My name is Morgan Brant, I am thirty-two, and I live in a loft down on 37th. I like charcuterie and making my own organic lattes. I work out everyday, and enjoy walking through the city. I have both of my parents, Ruth and John, and they live in the city as well. Anything else you'd like to know?" You're too stunned and still panicked to respond, so you just shake your head. "Okay, okay. Good." He murmurs. A hand strokes your hair softly, as if trying to soothe a wild animal. To your shock, for a man who basically paid for a co-workers wife to prostitute herself, he does seem genuinely upset at your fear. His eyes are filled with a sorrow, and he chews his bottom lip nervously. He looks down for a moment.

"Mrs. Peters, your second concern, about being a married woman, is very respectable. I appreciate that you respect the sanctity of marriage so much. I think your loyalty and love for your husband is beautiful." He pauses, and gently grips your chin so you look him in the eyes. "But... I worry that love and loyalty may not be returned. Mrs. Peters, I need you to promise me you will listen to what I am about to tell you." You gulp, his suddenly serious, yet still soft, tone worries you.

He stands, walking to the back of his desk and opening a drawer, grabbing a manila envelope before sitting down at his chair again. He pushes the envelope towards you, folding his hand together and sitting up. He looks as those this odd exchange is yet another business deal, as he sits like a man prepared to do whatever it takes to seal a deal. A real businessman. Your hand trembles as it opens the envelope. Your heart stops.

Inside, your husband can be seen in several photos, from many different angles. Some looked ripped from security footage, others appear to be taken at a distance. However, they all contain the same subject. Your husband, locking lips with various women, every photo a different one. Your hand covers your mouth as you let out a choked sob. "N-no... I mean, he was never warm to me, b-but..." Everything comes crashing down at once. All those nights you waited up for him when he was 'working late', all those warm meals you brought him at work, only to be brushed off so he could talk to his secretary. It all made sense.

"I can't believe this..." You squeak. Morgan shakes his head. "You can believe it, I know you can. He's never loved you, I've seen how he treats you. Rejecting your meals, ignoring you at office parties and work functions. My dear, he is actively sitting at home and preparing to count the bonus he received for pimping you out to me." Morgan exclaims, his shoulders tightening. You put your head in your hands. "I'm... what am I going to do?! I'll divorce him, but I'll have nothing. I, oh god." You cry. Morgan once again moves to try and comfort you. His broad arms wrap around your shoulders.

"I know, I know this is scary. You've been through a lot tonight, your entire marriage even. But it's going to be okay." He cups your face. "I've been watching the two of you, you mostly." He hands you something. An empty tupperware container. "This is from his lunch yesterday. Every meal he rejected from you, I gladly took. I hadn't had the chance to eat something made so lovingly in a long time. They don't serve home-cooked meals like this at business conferences." He chuckles. "I saw how you would cling to him at those same parties he was ignoring you at, and wishing, praying you would cling to me like that." You look up, his confession is shocking. "Your husband... he is a greedy man, but he has pride. I knew I wouldn't even get a moment along with you unless there was something in it for him." He shakes his head. "Darling, I was just as disgusted as you were that he'd agree to that. As excited as I was, as I am for this moment with you, I was thanking whoever is out there that no other person at this office had tried something similar. I'm not some deviant, or criminal. I've had my fair share of sexual encounters, with prostitutes and escorts, but... I never felt anything. I need to feel something. I do with you." He says.

You shake your head. "You don't know me." You say. He shrugs. "You don't need to someone to love them, not at first. I hate to say this, but you didn't really know your husband, did you?" You sob again, and his sticks his hands out. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry darling, that was out of line. I just needed to prove a point. What I'm saying is, I don't just want one night of pleasure with you. I want you to be mine. If you left him, you wouldn't be lost or desolate, you would have me. I could give your everything he has and more. Money, a penthouse, and my love. Real love. You deserve someone who wants to care for you the way you cared for that man-child. I can do that." You sniffle. "It's all so soon, and I don't... I'm scared." You say again. "I know. I hadn't wanted to do this here. I had wanted to show you the pictures and confess early on, I had plans to pick you up and take you somewhere nice to eat. I know the last thing you want right now is a fresh new relationship, I understand. But just maybe, the idea of revenge tempts you?" He suggests. You look up, and bite your lip. "What are you suggesting?" You ask.

"He thinks he's better than you, and that you could never leave him, because you have no one else, nothing else. Why else do you think he assumes their will be no repercussions for a night like this? He's so confident that you would never leave him, never even think about another man, that he truly believes you will return to him after he's pimped you out." Morgan moves closer. "I won't lie, I'll enjoy this, but don't just do it for me. Do it for yourself. Give in, leave him for a man who will worship you, who can give you more. Get back at him, and be with me." You shake your head. "You... you paid him to pimp me out to you like this though?" You exclaim. He nods "I had to show you how little he cared for you, same with the investigators I hired to get those photos." He nods in the direction of the envelope, now dabbled with your tears. "Besides, I've already signed his termination papers, I don't hire men like that here. He isn't getting shit for doing this to you." He assures.

In a moment of weakness, you break. The betrayal of the evening, the hurt and the fear, the anger, it's all too much. You sink to your knees, and nod. "Alright, let's do it. Just... be gentle, go slow." He nods. "Oh, my sweet. I'll do whatever you ask." He captures your lips, pressing your back against the front of his desk as he kneels beside you. His lips are soft, and taste of bourbon and mint. He smells like cologne, but a good kind, something smokey. Not like the tacky expensive stink of your husband, now ex-husbands favorite cologne. His tongue prods at your lips, and shyly you part them, allowing his tongue to slip in and suck against yours. He groans, and you both pull away breathlessly. While you take a breath, he immediately latches onto your neck, placing quick, feverish kisses along your collarbone. You gasp at the feeling, shrinking in on yourself. He grins.

"Does it really feel that good, that's quite a reaction." He chuckles. You blush and look to the side. "It's- It's been a while." He frowns and tilts his head. "How long is awhile, darling?" He whispers. "A few months, maybe eight or so." He shakes his head. "My poor girl, doing all that for him and he still wouldn't please you." He grips your waist, his lips on the shell of your ear. "To be fair though, even if he did, he couldn't make you finish. He would please himself, not you. But I won't, baby. Tonight, is all about you." You can feel a thick hardon pressing against your knee.

"Tell you what, darling. Let me make you feel good, real quick. Something nice and easy for my sensitive girl. Then, I'l take you out. I'm not just going to have sex with you without wineing and dineing you. Then, I'll take you back to my place, I-I'll send for your stuff tomorrow, and if you want, we can go for round two." He coos, looking up at you with admiration and hope. "Won't my husband try to resist my stuff being taken?" You ask. He shakes his head. "He's not your husband. If he calls, I'll hang up. He sold you out, and if he gets pissy, I've go the best lawyers in the country at my disposal. I'm not letting you spend one more night under a roof with that man. You aren't Mrs. Peters anymore, you're Mrs. Brant. Now... let Mr. Brant make you feel good." Hands cradle your thighs, slipping the skirt of your sensible slip dress up over your knees. A hand paws at your panties, cupping your cunt as he sighs. "So warm, poor little thing hasn't been touched in months. I've only kissed your neck a little, and your soaked. Is it because I said I love you? Does your little cunt respond well to just being admired and appreciated? Oh, my darling." He slips your panties aside just a little, not wanting to ruin your outfit for dinner later. Fingers part your lips as a long digit strokes up, from your entrance to your clit. A finger prods the entrance, and you gulp at the throbbing heat you feel.

"Gentle, slow please." You murmur. He nods, placing a gentle kiss on your neck before slipping in his digit. His long, calloused fingers rub your neglected walls in all the right ways. "A-ah, Morgan..." You pant. "Good?" He asks. You nod, breathless already. He thrusts it in and out gently, before asking to add another digit. When you nod, he adds another, while his free hand circles your clit with his middle finger. Perhaps its from typing everyday, day in and day out, but he is skilled. Even when your husband has slept with you, you had never felt like this. A coil forms in your stomach as you pant and whimper.

"M-morgan." You moan. "Please, I need to-" You're cut off by him sharply curling his fingers, as they hit a spongy spot deep inside you. "Oh, god. Yes." You moan again. "Cum for me, darling, please. I want to hear you." Morgan's tone is suddenly more desperate ethan you had heard it all night. He's needy, begging to know that he is pleasing you in the way he so desires. "Say my name, would you? I just want to please you, I need to know it feels good." He begs. "Morgan, I'm gonna cum, shit-" Your walls begin to pulse, juices coating his fingers. As you moan, finishing your high, he kisses you feverishly, desperate for closeness.

When you pull away, panting as you come down from your orgasm, he licks your juices off his hands with a squelching noise, putting your panties back into place. He helps you to your feet, and hands your your purse. "Ready for dinner?" He asks. Tired and very hungry, you nod. "Just one more thing, and you don't have to do anything, I've dealt with this myself plenty but-" He looks down, the tent in his pants is still very prominent.

"May I handle that before we go out?"

#yandere #yandere oc #tw.yandere #yandere fanfiction #yandere content #tw.dark content #x reader #yandere boy #tw.cheating #tw.dubcon #tw.angst #yandere boss #yandere ceo #oc Morgan #fem reader

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youryanderedaddy · 10 months ago

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Dark Is The Night

Summary: A late night encounter with a patroling soldier changes the trajectory of his life - and, unfortunately, yours too.

tw: female reader, obsessive behavior, non - consensual touching, threats, thoughts of non - con, mention of war, patronizing behavior, slight misogyny, hinted kidnapping

All he could think about was you.

It was a damp linden night, one of the very few old fashioned ones - as if time itself had stopped. The old colonel was laughing in short sharp breathes, skin spotting in red along with his sweaty neck, tearing into a letter he had received this very morning. The young soldiers were all over the tavern - some crying, some cheering over a beer and calling each glass their last, losing themselves in the rich foam that covered their fresh military mustaches. Christoph was alone, though.

He had no wife to write back to - no home to call his own, no friends or family to celebrate his final battle with. He also wasn't a rookie - so he couldn't drink himself blind in the pursuit of ideals, of empty promises of greatness to come. Truth was, his troops had won their fair share of battles, and today they had signed a treaty that would certainly benefit the district - the one he had lost his youth fighting for. He knew the capital would attempt at invasion, those greedy fucks wanted to bite more than they could chew - but that was no longer his problem. Today his contract ended. Today he was a free man.

And yet.

And yet all he could think about was you.

It was funny - he had spent more nights than he could remember wishing he could burn this half - dead village to the ground, all together with the maidens and the elderly still stick fending for themselves after the war. He presumed he'd be doing everyone a favor - he'd rid himself of the memories that haunted his dreams, and they wouldn't have to suffer any longer, not when all that winter would bring once again was even more hunger and decay.

After all, the victory changed nothing. The starving populace wouldn't starve anymore - it would simply die, having lost fathers, sons, daughters, farmers, merchants, healers. Nothing less than the very foundation of society. So maybe it would be far less cruel, far more humane, to burn everything and let them die with dignity.

But then you too would burn with the miserable souls of the damned. The man pictured it all - your beautiful skin still damp from the rain blistering in red and orange, and eventually black, those gems of yours trembling beneath your long eyelashes as the smoke swallowed your last breath.

The thought made Christoph irrationally angry - jealous even. Not only because he just imagined you dying, but because it was someone, something else stealing your final moment from him. Something else bruising your skin and forcing your lips to swell, something else causing you pain and suffering. No, he couldn't let you die. Not like this.

He couldn't help but recall your first meeting two years ago. Unbeknownst to you he had memorized it, citing each line by heart - envisioning it in his memory over and over each time he needed an escape, an outlet. The soldier wasn't one for softness, never one to dream and hope - but deep down he knew that this simple encounter had swayed the bullets. It had made him grip his rifle just a bit closer, made the biting wind just a bit warmer. He was a killing machine undeserving of humanity - yet you had saved him without even realizing it.

It was a cold winter night - quite opposite to this one, in the middle of Hell. The county your village was part of had been surrounded for a few weeks. Food was running low, and even clean water was scarce. All the men had been displaced a long time ago, sent off to fight in the eastern territories. Christoph was stuck at the Iron hills, a region so poor they didn't even bother to send additional armies to. If it lost, it lost. It held no special resources, no cultural or economic significance, no sea or forest roads to profit off of. All in all, no one wanted to serve here. No one but him.

Not that Christoph was too fond of the hills - it was more so that he didn't care where he was going to die. Whether it was on the eastern front, the western or even on the other side of the ocean, it didn't matter. And he had made peace with that fact - but before death took a toll on him, he was going to earn enough buck to buy good cigarettes for once in his miserable life. With real tobacco, none of that cheap imported trash they sold in his hometown.

And that's exactly how fate let him meet you. He was patrolling the border bridge late into the night - a thick cigar in hand (a parting gift from the general Murphy), humming to an old melody he couldn't quite remember the name of. He was alone that night - his friend had been injured so he needed to rest. The man was trying to stay alert, although the fatigue had long settled in between his tired bones and it refused to let go. The lack of sleep and the sheer paranoia was making him jumpy, ready to point his gun at the slightest of sound. He almost shot you that night.

"Colonel." You had whispered through gritted teeth, slowly raising your hands up as you approached him with a hesitant step. He blinked twice, unsure if he was still awake. Surely there was no way a young woman was out alone so late during wartime. "Colonel!" You repeated, putting a bit more force into your otherwise soft, calm voice. This seemed to snap him out of his trance and he finally raised his head to look at you, his sharp, intense gaze measuring you up from top to bottom. Just like a predator seizing his pray, like a soldier trained to keep his eyes on the target, he knew no other way to introduce himself other than with a silent, unspoken threat.

"A bit young to be calling me that, no?" The man snapped back, voice coming out more raspy than he intended - but it was hardly his fault. He rarely had visitors nowadays - no one wanted to expose themselves to the front lines, to risk becoming smoked meat, which meant he had little opportunity for chatter. So his voice had become rough - almost unnecessary cruel.

"I'm sorry." You mumbled, blurry eyes focused on the weapon resting oh - so snuggly against the soldier's heart as if guarding it. "I'm not familiar with your many titles, sir." You explained with a certain bite. Christoph squinted, growing amused at your little jab, yet the black mask covering his mouth hid it from you. The man knew exactly what you meant. You were not used to so much surveillance on your step - on everyone's step, so many eyes set on you as if you had a massive red target on your back. You were not used to armed forces ghosting around your small homely village with a gun resting at an arm's length just waiting to be loaded.

He wondered if it was your first time running into a soldier since the beginning of the occupation. He wondered if you were scared - if your heart was beating against your chest like it was trying to break through the skin. After all he was indeed intimidating - with heavy combat boots and a black uniform that did little to hide his rough figure, the lineage of lean muscle and battered blistered skin that undoubtedly belonged to a man. A man whose hands were still covered in dirt and blood. He could kill you. He could push you around - get some entertainment out of you. He could shove you down and use you like a cheap village whore - and no one would care because that's just how war is. He was serving his country, he needed an outlet, and you just happened to be there. No one would blame him.

He couldn't bring himself to come closer to you. He didn't trust himself to hold back when faced with something so fragile after months of letting his fists and his teeth do the speaking.

"That's lieutenant to you, miss." He barked in a tone that felt familiar - a tone that used to wake him up every morning at 5 for weeks on end. A tone that he could still hear every time he loaded his rifle and let go of the trigger with shaking fingers.

He couldn't be nice to you. He couldn't be nice to anyone in this bloodshed. And yet he heard himself asking you for your name. It hadn't meant anything - it was a long night and he was bored. Lonely, maybe, he couldn't tell his feelings apart very well. You hesitated for a second too long before you finally gave him a clear answer. It was the most beautiful sound he had heard - not just now, but ever.

"Would you mind explaining why you're here so late, miss?" The man tilted his head, trying to understand your unreadable expression - somehow you looked lost in time, striken by fear and grievance. "I believe the general gave direct orders this morning. No one should be out after ten." He paused to take a long, dramatic puff off his cigar. "It's too dangerous. Especially for a pretty little thing like you to be roaming at night." He knew his boldness was making you uneasy, and that he shouldn't derive such obvious pleasure from your discomfort, but he just couldn't help it. He was lonely. He was sick. And most of all, he was a bastard who had already given up on life. He had nothing to lose.

"Truth be told, if you were mine I wouldn't let you out of sight, miss." He grinned, feeling just a bit disgusted with himself. He wasn't sure why, but he wanted to scare you. To creep you out so bad you'd never go out alone again. Why he had got so invested so quickly, he also couldn't tell.

"I... I needed a breath of f-fresh air, l-leutenant." You responded quickly, eager to leave this conversation as soon as possible - completely ignoring anything he said. Your initial confidence had evaporated as the wet cold crept into your thin coat. It didn't fit your frame - it was too big on you and it reeked of a man's first proper cologne. The thought of it filled the soldier with unreasonable, hot -red fury, imagining you next to some nameless brat with his hands wrapped around you.

"That's all?" The corners of his lips stretched mockingly as he let his smoke blow into your face - and you had to fight the urge to immediately wave it off.

"Are you, are you implying something, sir?" You fiddled with your fingers nervously, looking anywhere but at Christoph. He found it pathetically adorable. "Just curious." He took another long puff - his breath coming out frozen - white as it hit the icy air. "You don't seem like the brave type to me." His eyes narrowed to two pitch black slits. He must have looked terrifying to you in that moment, and he loved it. "So just what-" He pulled you in by the collar. "Are you doing here, huh?"

You froze in place as if he had pointed his gun to you yet again. You swallowed loudly, trying to come up with an explanation - but nothing came to mind when you were so obviously scared. The soldier could feel your heartbeat - he could hear the blood pumping to your ears as you looked around hopelessly for help that wouldn't come. And just like that the wolf had the rabbit dancing in its own trap.

"Are you just looking for trouble, hmm?" The man reached in to curl his finger around one of your loose locks. He didn't want to make you feel so awfully small - but everything about this situation, from the tremble of your lips to the sheer panic in your eyes was going straight to his cock. "I'm sure that with a face like that you never lacked attention, no?" He tilted his head with predatory malice. "But now all the men bending over backwards for you are off somewhere, dying as we speak. Poor little you - I can imagine just how lonely you are." He pressed his body closer to yours. "The thing is, I am more than willing to play with you in their pl-"

"Please, lieutenant." You couldn't stand to listen to him any longer, a thousand warm pleas already falling off your desperate lips. "Please let me go." Your eyes softened, trying to hide the first sign of hot wet tears. "I need to go home to my siblings. I need to bring them fo-"

"Why should that matter to me, dollface?" It was his turn to interrupt you - voice full of childish glee as he kept up with his petty torment.

"Because - because," You started off, hands shaking into little fists that you knew, realistically, could do the soldiers no damage were you to push against his chest. "Because you're a good man." You mumbled after a while, looking for the right words to say. "And I know that deep down you're kind and brave. That's why you're here now, fighting for all our lives."

You were such a pretty liar, Christoph thought. He could listen to your sugary sweet fairytales all night long, silently praying that they'd become true if he was only able to capture his own little fairy - his own miracle.

"What if I am not the hero, doll?" The man whispered darkly in response, leaning against you until your back hit the tree behind you, trapping you between his stiff body and the pillar. "What if I am here for all the wrong reasons, huh? Just think about it." He lowered his head so it would match your eye level - you were so quiet he wondered if you had forgotten how to breath.

"We're in the middle of nowhere. I have a weapon and a direct permission to shoot at will. I can do whatever the fuck I want." He made sure you could hear every single word clearly. He wouldn't let you faint before he was through with you. "I can fuck you right here in the open - or I can drag you to the barracks and keep you there for as long as I need to. Do you really think anyone would care about some insignificant girl going missin-"

"Please." You repeated, suddenly getting stirn with your pleading, as if you too had nothing to lose. "Let me go - I'd do anything."

His eyes darkened - then lit up with sick, perverse desire. He wanted to echo your words back to you just like a classical villain would - to really drive the point across that he was out for blood. Anything, you say? Anything at all? But he couldn't contain his excitement enough to voice those sadistically banal thoughts. Besides, he could already feel the adrenaline running through his whole body. His heart was beating rhythmically, pumping and alive for the first time in days, weeks, months. He wanted you more than anything. It was that moment he knew he was going to live - he was going to fight and win, and then come back for you as a hero. As your hero, even if in your eyes he would be more of a villain.

A nightmare you'd try to forget - and just when you think you have erased his fingertips off your waist, your face, your neck, he'd come back to steal you away forever.

"Kiss me." Christoph all but snarled, some unfamiliar, needy - greedy ball of emotion settling into his loins as your delicate face twisted into a petrified grimace. You began trembling in his arms, looking around yet again. It was pitch black, no soul in sight. You inhaled deeply, trying to steady your movement to no avail. "A-alright. I-I..." You whispered with difficulty as if simply saying the words was causing you a great deal of pain. And maybe it was, but the soldier could care less. He already knew you were made for him - made to serve him, made to make him happy. "I'll d-do it."

The man growled in satisfaction, taking a small step back. You looked at him, puzzled - your confused face was just as cute as your scared one. He couldn't wait to explore all your reactions - the way you'd squirm and writhe underneath him as he fucked into you restlessly, filling you up with his love over and over again until you were crying for mercy. But that had to wait, he had a war to fight. For now he could settle for a little taste of you to keep him warm during the cold nights. And just like that he tapped his lips, guiding you silently. You felt your cheeks heat up once you finally understood what he meant by that. He wasn't going to kiss you. He wanted you to put in the work.

Your eyes filled up with tears, and you felt silly for becoming so upset over a little kiss - but this was your first kiss, and you had to give it to a monster. It was certainly better than the alternative, with the alternative being rape in a filthy military cottage, but it still made you feel dirty all over. Yet, you had no choice. You took a step towards the man - you could feel the suffocating warmth radiating off his body towards yours, and if the situation wasn't so grim, you might have been grateful for another human's heat in the freezing cold. But now all you could feel was dread.

You stood on your tip toes, a shaky hand reaching out to cup the stranger's face. Cristoph smirked, complecent at your obedience. You licked your lips and slowly, hesitantly pressed them against his, just barely touching at all.

He groaned, unable to keep his hands to himself any longer. He grabbed you and pulled you in roughly, squeezing you like a plush toy. He deepened the kiss, forcing his tongue deep into your mouth, finding heaven between your soft, sweet lips and broken whimpers. You were so innocent. So lost. He wanted to take you into his arms and never let go. He wanted to keep kissing you until your lips turned blue, until it hurt to speak.

And then you pushed him off just like that, using your own body as a distraction. He tripped backwards, too shocked and lost in sensation to stop you. He smiled at your final act of defiance. It was, of course, adorable and so painfully you, yet it didn't really matter - not in the long run. You had only suceeded in making him want you more.

But that was two years ago. Now the war was finally over. Now he had enough to start a new life. Now he was a free man.

And he was coming back for you.

#yandere #yancore #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere oneshot #yandere male x reader #yandere x you #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere soldier

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