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aemondfairy · 1 month

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Delicate

summary: On a dreaded night out with Aegon to forget his past, Aemond finds himself thinking of a future with you.

pairing: Modern!Aemond x Stripper!Reader

word count: 2.2k

warnings: Explicit smut, alcohol consumption, brief mention of drugs, sex work, dry humping, lactation kink, slight mommy kink, handjob, cum play 18+ MDNI

note: Tbh, idk what urged me to write this, (it was the photo of Ewan on the couch with the leopard print carpet) but shout out to Aegon for being a good wingman 🫡 I have a part 2 planned but only if people are interested

Aemond Targaryen was never a fan of strip clubs. He viewed them as not only a waste of time, but a waste of money. Spending ungodly amounts on overpriced, watered down drinks. Just so some girl who pretended to be attracted to him, could dance on him for a couple of hours. He always left feeling impure while glitter and the scent of cotton candy body spray clung to his clothes. It just wasn’t his thing, he had better ways to spend his time. And yet, he found himself getting ready to go to one now, on a Tuesday night. With his heathen of a brother and his immature friends. What had become of him?

You’re on the opposite side of town, also getting ready for the evening. Hot steam and the scent of coconut invigorates your senses as you’ve just finished taking an ‘everything’ shower. You’re scrubbed to the bone, freshly exfoliated, shaved, and now lathering vanilla scented lotion onto your skin when your phone buzzes. Aegon Targaryen.

Aegon was your typical rich, spoiled, frat boy who frequented the club you worked at. Over the years he had become something more of a friend than a customer. He would sometimes bring you food, or weed, or a pack of cigarettes. He had even come to your defense when certain men would over step boundaries with you.

He was a good customer, gave a lot of money to the club – and to you. He wasn’t exactly your type but there was no denying he was attractive.

you workin tonight?

depends who’s asking 😈 jk … u know where to find me 💋

perfect. and not for me 😢 have a guy who needs a distraction. wear smth expensive!

oh? 👀🤨

money talks baby

yeah yeah 💸💦

It’s a rainy Tuesday night, you’re not sure why you agreed to pick up a shift in the first place. But you could use some extra cash, and your daughter is at her dad’s this week.

Even though the club you work at is one of the busiest in Kings Landing, you anticipate it to be an uneventful evening. Aegon coming in changes things, maybe you’ll have some sort of fun, and at the very least someone to talk to.

It’s just you and two other girls working tonight. There are three men sat around the stage as Floris dances, and Sara is occupied with a private dance in the back. As you predicted, a pretty slow night. You have the bartender make you a drink. You sit and tap on the glass waiting for some action when Aegon finally shows up.

He has a decent sized group of guys with him, most of which seem to already be under the influence. In order to not appear desperate you wait for Aegon to come to you.

“Lookin’ good, girl!” he calls, leaning in to hug you, “and you wore expensive perfume, that’s a good girl,” he flirts as he slides you a $50 bill, causing you to raise your eyebrows at him.

“Is this for… your friend?”

“Not a friend,” he states proudly, a devilish grin on his face, “my brother.”

You look past Aegon to the group of guys he sauntered in with, and then you spot him. A tall, lean guy with hair the same shade as Aegon’s; except his is much shorter, and styled neatly. He’s aimlessly scrolling his phone, barely looking around. You notice he has a pack of Marlboro Menthols in his hand. With a cool demeanor and a jawline chiseled to perfection by the Gods themselves, you are in for it.

He resembles Aegon for sure, though he is much more handsome.

“Gods, there’s two of you,” you groan jokingly.

“Actually, there’s four of us,” Aegon corrects, “but one’s sixteen and the other is a girl, our sister.”

Aegon hardly ever spoke of his family and when he did it was never in detail. All you knew was they were toxic, full of drama, lacking love, and filthy rich.

“Right. Well, what do I need to know about this one?”

“That’s Aemond. Go easy on him, will you? He’s a major nerd, hates all things fun, and the club isn’t really his scene — total opposite of me,” he notes, “but he’s been hung up on this older woman and I need him to get under someone else to get over her.”

You raise your eyebrows at him a second time, unsure of what you’re getting yourself into.

“What can I say? We’re a complicated bunch, but it’s nothing you can’t handle, right princess?”

You giggle at the pet name and he grins before he smacks you hard on the ass.

“Go get ‘em, tiger.”

You glance over in Aemond’s direction again, now he sips on an old fashioned, his grip tight on the glass while his expression remains unreadable.

You decide to head to the back to quickly freshen yourself up. You’ll need to mentally prepare yourself before sinking your paws into Aegon’s sexy-as-hell younger brother. You brush out your curls, pick away any dried mascara from below your eyelids and generously apply more perfume. Baccarat 540, it was expensive, thank you very much.

You take a large sip of your own drink before you saunter your way back out front and over to the table where he sits.

"Hey! You look like you could use a friend" you purr, “can I offer you a dance?"

Aemond looks over to Aegon who is giving him a thumbs up before looking at you. His eye scans your body.

"Um, yeah,” he finally responds, swallowing thickly, “yeah, you can.”

This time he smiles as he checks you out.

"You wanna go somewhere more private?" you offer in a whisper, motioning to one of the closed off rooms, "ya know away from prying eyes?"

"Sure," he replies and your perfectly manicured fingers wrap around his wrist, dragging him to one of the rooms. Once you’re alone, tucked away behind the velvet curtain, he takes it upon himself to take a seat on the leather couch.

“So how does this work?" he questions nonchalantly, taking a large sip of his old fashioned.

“You’ve never gotten a private dance before?” you ask him and he shakes his head as he swallows.

“Oh, well, I’m flattered,” you giggle, taking a seat next to him, feeling him out.

“Well, while we’re in here,” you say as you place your palm on his leg, “I’m all yours,” you smile.

“All mine, huh?”

“That’s right,” you soon come realize that Aemond isn’t even sure what he wants. You take a large sip of your drink, finishing it off in one gulp.

You discard your empty glass and slowly straddle Aemond’s lap, refusing to break eye contact as you move your body to the rhythm of the song the booms through the speakers. Your palms glide over his lean chest, teasing and tantalizing as you continue to sway your hips. Aemond keeps a firm grip on the couch, his hands not leaving his sides. You reach down and take them in yours.

“You can touch me, you know. I promise you won’t break me,” you encourage, guiding his hands up your body.

His hands are cold as they run up and down your stomach, but they cause a fire to ignite inside of you. His touch is more gentle than what you’re used to. He uses his thumbs to swipe over the sheer fabric of your bra against your nipples. You gasp under his touch but he quickly removes his hands from you, yet you feel his cock grow harder underneath you.

“Is something wrong?” you ask, your hands flying to your breasts, instantly feeling two damp spots there. Fuck.

It’s something you know is inevitable, but it doesn’t make it any less awkward. All of your regulars are already aware of your situation, but with someone new and unsuspecting, it’s an uncomfortable conversation. You’d found a lot of men are actually turned on by it, but there is always that chance that the current one won’t be.

“I – I’m so sorry. I don’t usually confide this, Aegon knows… but uh, I have a one year old who’s still breastfeeding.”

Aemond appears to be at a loss for words. You need to get up before he can reject you himself.

“Let me just—” He stares at you intently as you’re about to remove yourself from his lap. He is definitely caught off guard by your confession, but not in the negative way that you think.

“That’s no problem,” he says huskily as he composes himself, “you stay right here.”

His gaze is piercing as he keeps his hands firm on your hips, the cool metal of his rings digs into your flesh as he holds you in place in his lap.

“Alright, if you’re sure,” you mutter back to him, feeling relieved.

“Oh, I’m sure,” he tells you, the bulge in his pants evidently harder than it was earlier.

You study him carefully, there is a hunger in his eye that wasn’t there before, even moments ago. It’s as if his entire demeanor has changed. You figure you can use this to your advantage.

“I don’t usually do this, but I’m making an exception,” you tell him as you reach behind your back to unclasp your bra. You shimmy it off your shoulders and let it fall to the dirty floor.

“Because I’m Aegon’s brother?” he asks.

“No, because …. I want to.”

It was true, you didn’t normally get this intimate with customers, but something about Aemond was drawing you in.

Aemond’s eye widens as you reveal your glistening nipples to him. You squeeze at your breast lightly, grinding yourself into him, and he rewards you with a moan. your thumb around your nipple, gathering some of your milk onto it before rubbing it along Aemond’s lower lip. He eagerly accepts it into his mouth, sucking it harshly, nipping at your fingertip.

“You like that?”

“Mhm,” he groans against you, releasing your thumb before leaning forward into you. He smells good, expensive cologne and nicotine. His lips find their way to your neck, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine. His fingers ghost down your body, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. You arch into him, wanting more.

He continues to move at an agonizingly slow pace, taking his time with you as his lips make their way from your throat down to your chest. Your breath hitches once his tongue finally comes in contact with your nipple, lapping at the droplets of milk there. He takes your flesh into his mouth, gently suckling, careful not to apply too much pressure.

Your mind is going hazy as arousal leaks from your core, so you grind down harder on him, attempting to ease the ache between your legs.

Aemond continues to suckle at your breast, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud as he drinks from you with ease. His eyes are closed, his mind completely lost to the sensation of you in his mouth. Your body trembles against him and he feels it, your small whimpers and moans urging him on.

He pulls away slowly, and you wince at the loss of contact. His lips leave a trail of wet kisses across your skin as he looks up at you with glassy eyes.

You lean back, positioning yourself so that you have access to the button of Aemond’s jeans.

“Can I?” you ask.

He nods his head eagerly, unbuttoning them for you and yanking the zipper down with quickness.

You slip your hand inside, beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs and wrap your hand around his length, tugging gently as your free hand flies to the back of his head, pulling at the hair at the nape of his neck.

Your hand slides at a steady pace against his shaft, squeezing gently. His thick veins pulsing underneath your fingertips.

“Fuck, M-mommy,” he moans.

Your eyes widen at his choice of words but they stir something sinister inside you, and what Aegon told you earlier rings in the back of your mind: “he’s been hung up on this older woman.”

It all clicks.

You kiss him soft and slow for a moment before pulling away.

“You wanna be a good boy and cum for mommy baby?”

“Yes! I’m — I’m good,” he stutters, rutting himself up into your palm.

Your hand works quicker as he finds himself back at your chest. Drinking from you like a man starved.

A few more languid pumps of his cock and he’s trembling beneath you. Shooting thick, pearly ropes into your hand. You move your hand down lower to cup and squeeze at his balls for a moment before bringing it back up to your mouth, licking away the salty remnants as Aemond shoves his cock back into his pants.

As if right on schedule, the timer you set on your phone to keep track of the time goes off.

“Well, looks like our time’s up,” you say with a frown.

“Looks like it,” he replies and the air swells with tension.

You turn to leave, hoping to give him a moment to gain his composure and get himself together but he yanks at your wrist.

“Wait! Let me take you out!” he blurts out at you, “on a date, a real one. Please.”

You bring your hand up to wipe a smudge of your lipgloss from the corner of his mouth.

“This was paid for, ya know?” You say empathetically and his eye darkens. Great. You’ve offended him.

“I know that,” he says sternly, “It’s just, I want to take you out. Please. Just one date.”

“One date,” you repeat.

“Yes,” he assures, his good eye gleaming.

“Okay.”

Something else you don’t usually do, date customers. These Targaryen’s are giving you a run for your money.

You give Aemond your phone number and you let him add his to your phone.

“I will text you,” he promises before he goes to exit the room. You follow him out and watch as he makes his way back to Aegon who is bright eyed and clapping at his brother.

You make eye contact with Aegon and he mouths something to you that you are unable to decipher.

What have you gotten yourself into?

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azullumi · 5 months

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"baby, stay beside me a little longer" ; aventurine

premise — how you spend your day with him.

pairing — aventurine (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — established relationship, fluff, domestic, not proofread, text messages, 1.7k words ; headcanons

tagging — @toorurs (hi, we don't mention the event fics we have to do hahaha)

note — i miss him and i had the urge to write skincare aventurine. 3 DAYS LEFT UNTIL HIS BANNER

morning

As sunlight streams through the window accompanied with the gentle chirping of the birds outside, there’s no guarantee that one of you always wakes up first before the other. Sometimes it’s him that wakes up first and sometimes it’s you—it occasionally depends if one of you has plans later on or has a free day.

“What’s on your schedule for today?” You ask him, watching him as he buttons his shirt. Daylight illuminates the room and the sound of leaves rustling outside as the breeze flies past fills your morning, albeit you are still laying in bed, not having the desire to move. Aventurine is the opposite of your state right at this moment—already fresh out of his bath (the faint scent of his soap clings to his skin), dressing into his work clothes, though his hair is still messy. Honey-dyed locks tousled, with some strands sticking to the back of his neck and some on his face.

“I have a client to interview this afternoon. It was scheduled for next week but they changed it to today.” There was a hint of frustration in his tone as he spoke. You could immediately tell that the reschedule caused some issues with his plans so you didn’t press on any further. “Will you be home late tonight then?”

“No, I don’t think so. I’ll be home early.”

“What do you want to eat for dinner?” You say, remembering that you had no plans for today so you’ll just be staying home the whole time. Aventurine puts on his blazer, humming as he thought for a moment, before he answers: “I was thinking of taking you out tonight.”

You beam a smile at him, watching as he fixes the mess out of his hair and sprays perfume on himself soon after, knowing that the scent of it will follow you while he’s gone. “Oh, really? Where?” However, he doesn’t answer but instead, walks towards you and bends down to your level to give you a quick peck on your lips.

“You’ll see.”

He’ll often ask for your help in tying his tie. He knows how to do it, even much better than you, but he prefers the messy work of your hands than his own. Some of his co-workers would point out how his tie looks messy as if he did it in a rush and while he may laugh and nod, he won’t do anything about it. To him, it’s a reminder of you.

MORNING LAZINESS. It just happens but it’s not always that it does—you’re there besides him still too sleepy and grumbling on not wanting to leave the bed yet and how could he refuse? Sure, your hold on him is not that tight and he could easily slip out of your grasp, and sure, you may be close to falling asleep again and you won’t notice if he leaves but your skin is warm and close, your hands are soft on his, and the sound of your breathing comforts him. How could he?

noon

Your middays are often spent separately—both of you accomplishing your own sets of responsibilities. Aventurine would occasionally send you messages asking if you have had lunch already, asking what you’re doing, and telling you about how everything is going for him. Although the conversation doesn’t last that long, always being interfered with by either someone or something.

Your phone buzzes and the screen lights up as you receive a new notification. You were expecting a nonsense reminder from one of your apps but instead, it was a message and it was from none other than your lover, Aventurine.

However, on rare occasions that the both of you are at home and have no set plans for the day, he’ll spend his time together with you. You want to go on a spontaneous date? Sure, he was going to ask you out anyways. Feeling lazy and just want to be in bed the whole day? That’s fine, he wasn’t planning on doing anything. . You want to do something together but not want to go out? Perhaps you can bake and try out this new recipe, that is if you have the needed ingredients at your home.

evening

Evenings are saved for the both of you, which means nothing related to work. It’s the only time of the day where you and he are free from any of your responsibilities—unless, of course, he still has some things to do but that rarely happens. He’ll often come home with a gift or a bouquet of flowers that you like; he’ll only answer you with, “Just because,” if ever you would ask him what’s the occasion. It’s just something that he does, something that you should get used to.

However, there are moments where you have to spend your night alone as he has to come home late and there are moments that you’ll wait for him and he’ll come home to find you asleep on the sofa. A pang of guilt hits him as he crouches in front of you, brushing a few strands away from your face and whispering an apology that only the moon could hear. He’ll carry you to bed soon after.

The way you spend your evenings with him can vary—it could be a game night between you two which will become heated due to how competitive the both of you can be, or a movie night wherein looking for what to watch can take a longer time than the movie itself, or just something simple and relaxing for the both of you.

“You always have so many interesting stories to tell.”

“Is it bad?” You answer him, worry lingering in your voice. You were telling him of how your day went and how you saw something fascinating when you went out earlier, and he was sitting behind you, drying your hair since you had just taken a bath. You could feel his fingers run through your hair, the dryer in hand as he pointed the nozzle towards the crown of your head. The air blowing from it feels warm—just enough to not feel like it’s going to burn off your scalp—and combined with the gentleness of his hand, it all feels comforting, soothing.

“No, it’s not. I just feel bad and perhaps,” He turns off the dryer and places it down beside him, “I also feel guilty.”

You immediately turn to him, eyebrows knitted as your expression warps into a mix of surprise and concern: “But why?”

He hesitates, averting away from your gaze, “I don’t have much to tell you, I don’t have exciting or interesting stories to say.” He’s afraid you’ll find him boring, that you’ll get tired of him but what he doesn’t realize is that you won’t, and you never will.

“That's completely okay. You don't need to have something to say all the time.” You’re fine with it—even if you have to sit in silence with him, even if the days are becoming repetitive and tiring, as long as you’re with him, as long as you feel his hand in yours, it will all be fine. You touch the side of his cheek, “I’m just happy to spend time with you and talk about anything, or nothing at all. How has your day been?”

He turns his head to look at you—an alluring pair of vibrant and pristine hues, a pool of clear and vivid richness hidden in the depths of his eyes meets your gaze once more; “Nothing much happened. I met some clients and helped them, had a short meeting, and just did my work.”

“You didn’t go to the casino?”

“I was planning to but I wanted to see you more.”

A soft laugh escapes from your lips: “Is that so?” And he only hums as an answer, leaning forward to snake his arms around your waist and pull you closer to him before he buries his face in the crook of your shoulder. And you swear you hear him whisper the words, “I love you.”

Most likely has a nighttime skincare routine which he does with you (there’s no way his skin is that flawless and fair for no reason like you’re telling me that’s genetics???). He’ll be coming out of the bathroom with a clay mask or sheet mask on his face and he can’t speak because he doesn’t want to mess up the placement of the product and he’ll help you in putting yours on. The both of you on the bed with your robes on, hair either pushed back or tied, and there’s a pair of cucumber slices on your eyes along with a mask on your face.

He has trouble sleeping and it takes a lot for him to fall asleep—he’ll tire himself out, going on late night runs, exercise, drinking anything that could help him feel sleepy, anything. He’ll often spend his time tossing and turning while in bed and perhaps even counting sheep in his mind but somehow, just listening to your voice or the sound of your breathing makes it all easy for him. He’ll listen to you talk and tell stories and he’ll feel his eyes getting heavier in each second, as a warm and soft feeling envelops him like a blanket, and your voice will turn into a distant lullaby that guides him into slumber.

He wouldn’t even notice that he’s falling asleep in each second but maybe you do, maybe you’ll see the way he relaxes as his eyes threaten to close and his breathing comes steady, and maybe that’s why your voice keeps on getting softer until it turns into humming as you stroke his hair gently. He’ll apologize in the morning, telling you that perhaps he was so tired and he didn’t mean to fall asleep but you’ll assure him that it’s all okay.

Through the mundane things, in the boring days and the exciting ones, in days that you and him argue, in days that it all feels unbearable and suffocating, in every single moment with you, he’ll love you (tear him apart from skin to bones, see him for his heart, and you’ll notice your name carved into it).

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golden1u5t · 5 months

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patched up | s.r x fem!reader

ꨄ genre: smut heavy make out ses

ꨄ summary: spencer had gotten hurt while on a case and it was up to you to patch him back up, which wouldn’t have been an issue if the tension between you wasn’t so thick.

“you’re really stupid, you know that?” you state as you grabbed the bottle of hydrogen peroxide. spencer let out a chuckle that quickly turned into a low groan when you lifted his shirt and poured a good amount of the peroxide on his stab wound. his head tips back against the counter and you can't help but look up at him, your eyes lingering on the bulge of his adam's apple for far too long.

spencer looked back down just in time to catch you staring at him. you quickly looked away and grabbed a gauze out of your bag, but your hands were shaking with nerves and caused you to drop the package before you could get it open.

he watched as you bent down and grabbed the package, you tore it open and lifted his shirt again. the room you were in was so quiet you could hear each other’s breathing, or maybe that was because of how close you were. you didn’t want to look up because you knew he was already staring at you and that would just make you even more nervous than you already were.

you made quick work of finishing patching him up and cleaning up your mess. after you were done you turned around to the sink to wash your hands. spencer could tell you were washing your hands longer than needed so you didn’t have to face him. so he slid off the counter and walked up behind you, caging you in by placing his hands on either side of you.

“do i make you nervous?” he asked, watching as you tensed. you turned off the faucet before spinning around so you were face to face, you could feel his breath fanning over your face with how close he was.

“i’m not- why would i be nervous?” spencer’s gaze dropped down to your lips for a quick moment before he met your eyes again. you couldn’t help but mirror him and do the same, except your gaze lingered on his lips far longer than he did.

“your body language is telling me you’re nervous.”

“yeah? what else is it telling you?” you met his eyes again as your tongue darted out to wet your dry lips. you weren’t sure where the sudden wave of confidence came from but you could feel it slipping away with each passing second you stood there under his gaze.

“well, you keep looking at my lips and subconsciously leaning towards me. that tells me you want me, want to kiss me.” a low chuckle left his lips as he stared at you, he shook his head before taking a step back. you reached out and wrapped your hand around his wrist to stop him from walking away.

“would you do it if i asked? to kiss me, i mean.” you asked, letting go of him when you got his attention again. spencer paused for a moment, thinking of all the things he could say in response to you. kissing you is something he’s thought about many times before, hell, he's thought about doing a lot more than kissing if he was being honest.

“is that your way of asking me to kiss you?” he took a step closer to you, already ready to kiss you as soon as you said the word. there was a moment of silence between you, you both just looking into each other's eyes waiting for you to say that one word that could change everything for you.

it took you a moment to find the courage but when you did you confirmed that it was your way of asking him to kiss you. as soon as you got the words out of your mouth spencer was cupping your face and bringing his lips to yours. your arms went around his neck as you leaned into him more.

spencer’s hands fell from your face to gripping your thighs, he effortlessly hoisted you up and sat you on the counter. spencer groaned into your mouth when you ran your fingers through his hair and gave it a gentle tug. your skin felt like it was on fire because of the way his hands felt roaming underneath your shirt, the way he kissed you like his life depended on it, and the ache between your legs that was growing stronger with each passing second he kissed you.

you were sure that if he kissed you like that for the rest of your lives you would be the happiest woman alive. unfortunately, spencer had to pull away because of the lack of air but that gave you the chance to bury your head in the crook of his neck and discover new places with your lips. while you kissed and nipped at his skin he reached down and started to unbutton your jeans.

being able to go all the way with him would have been a dream come true for you but unfortunately you were still on the job and that means your moment was interrupted by emily coming into the room you were in to let you know what they’ve recently discovered.

“just to let you know-” she stopped in her tracks when she looked up to see you and spencer jumping away from each other. her eyes jumped between you two, taking in your unbuttoned jeans and spencers disheveled hair. you cleared your throat as you buttoned your jeans back up, your heart was racing so fast you could hear it in your ears.

emily was your unit chief, yes, but she was your friend before any of that so instead of making a big deal she excused herself to give you both some time to straighten back up before joining the others.

you and spencer couldn’t bring yourselves to say anything after that, the only noise that filled the room was the sound of your heavy breathing and the laugh you shared as the realization of what happened donned on you. before you made it to the common area where everyone else was, spencer pulled you behind a wall to give you one last kiss.

it made you feel like a teenager sneaking around with the boy your parents told you to stay away from but you would do it a million times over if that meant you could experience kissing him for the first time all over again.

#repost from old blog #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fic

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wands-natsthing · 4 days

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𝐈𝐟 𝐈’𝐦 𝐒𝐨 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥

Hii I haven’t written anything in months so hopefully this isn’t like bad

Plsss like and comment if ya wanna I love reading them and it's so motivating

And feedback is more than welcomed.

Warings: This is like previous high school student x teachers kinda sorta reader was 18 when that was happening tho no smut yet but will be implied in the future. Panic attacks, Axe’s body spray. That’s all i think but if you recognize anymore lemme know pls!!

Word count: 1.5k

Summary: You're in love with your high school English teacher Wanda but at graduation she’s like I love you too but we can’t so then five years pass and you see her at a cafe with another red headed woman.

They say high school is a time of self-discovery, forming relationships that could last a lifetime, and navigating the endless possibilities of first experiences. For you, high school was wrapped up in the lunches you shared with Mrs.Wanda Maximoff, your

12th-grade English teacher.

The unusual friendship started with a shared love for classic literature and a mutual understanding of feeling out of place. Mrs. Maximoff had a way of making Shakespeare's complicated content relatable and understandable by intertwining them with life lessons that resonated with you.

She was different from other teachers. She was patient, helped you with your homework when you couldn't understand the difference between dependent and independent clauses, listened more than she spoke. When she did speak, her words were thoughtful and impactful, often leaving you to think long and hard after class had ended.

Your lunch sessions together started by accident, really.

On a particularly busy day, when the crowded hallways were more overwhelming than usual, your anxiety was on the brink of turning into a full-blown panic attack. You found refuge in her classroom. Mrs. Maximoff was there, her eyes scanning over a copy of Donna Tartt's "The Secret History." She looked up, saw your distressed state, and, without a word, brought you into her embrace.

The smell of her expensive perfume didn't burn your nose like the smell of Bath and Body Works, Axe cologne, and body odor in the hallways usually did.

She calms you down using the softest voice you've ever heard.

"You're doing so well, darling. Now tell me, what are three things you can smell?"

"Your perfume," you answered. The strong feminine scent overwhelmed your senses in the best way possible.

"Oh yeah, it does smell pretty good, doesn't it? You're doing so well for me, sweet girl."

When you were finally calm, she shared her lunch with you. While eating, we talked about everything but schoolwork, music, movies, and favorite books and authors. It was the first time you truly felt seen and heard.

These lunches became a part of your routine. Every day, you'd sit in her classroom during lunch hour, the chaos of the school melting away as we engage ourselves in conversation about anything and everything.

There was a silent agreement to keep these lunches between us, our little secret.

However, as weeks turned into months, your feelings toward Mrs. Maximoff began to change. It was initially subtle, a flutter of the heart when she smiled, a longing to be near her more than our lunches and class time allowed.

When you realized these feelings you panicked. You knew that they were wrong but just couldn't help yourself. The tabooness of a student having romantic feelings for their teacher was probably the most exciting part about it.

You fought with your conscience on a daily basis, constantly reminding yourself of the boundaries that should not be crossed, the rules that you both would be breaking, and how she could lose her job. But your heart didn't care. You wanted her, and you were determined to figure out if she wanted you as well.

As spring transitioned into summer, your feelings continued to grow. Graduation was approaching, and you had made up your mind to express the feelings you had for Mrs. Maximoff on that day.

Graduation day was filled with excitement as students threw their graduation caps and rushed to their loved ones with their diplomas, but you were only interested in finding Mrs. Maximoff. You spotted her talking with someone's parents among the crowd of excited students. You began making your way toward her. The closer you got to her, the more your eyes met. She stopped talking to the parents and turned all her attention to you. Mrs. Maximoff reached out her hands to hold yours while whispering in your ear,

"I'm so proud of you."

"Thank you, Wanda," you uttered softly, the sound of her name sweet on your lips.

When you look back at her face, you see her nose scrunch up the way it always does when she's blushing.With your heart beating out of your chest, you thought now would be as good a time as ever to proclaim your love to her.

"Hey, Wanda, I need to tell you something," she can tell in your tone of voice that it's serious."

"Whatever it is, you can tell me," she reassures you with a concerned look in her eyes.

"This year has been amazing, the best year in school I've ever had, and I have you to thank for it. I think about that day when you saved me from the hallways all the time, and it was the best day of my life because I met you. As I got to know you, you became more than my 12th-grade English teacher, more than Mrs. Maximoff. I got to know Wanda, and it has been my biggest joy. I guess what I'm trying to say is. I love you, Wanda Maximoff."

You finish your declaration with tears in your eyes, but Wanda's devastating look turns tears of joy and relief into tears of sadness.

"I love you too," she whispered back, her voice carrying a mixture of sorrow, excitement, and apprehension. "But you're about to start a new chapter of your life. College is not just about studying; it's also about experiencing new things, and I don't want to be the thing holding you back from doing that. I'm ten years older than you. I've had my fun, and now it's time for you to have yours, but please know that I enjoyed our time together just as much, if not more, than you did. Maybe if the circumstances were different, then we could have made this work, but we're just in different places in our lives right now."

Your heart sank.

Though you knew she was right, you didn't want to hear that. The logical part of you agreed with her, but your heart didn't care. You longed to be with her.

"Okay, um, thank you. Bye," you mumbled tearfully while walking away. You could hear her call out for you, but you didn't have it in you to turn back. Embarrassed and heartbroken, you left the graduation stadium, ready to experience all the "new things." She said you would hopefully find it.

That was five years ago.

Now, at your college graduation with a Master's in library science. All the memories from high school just came flooding back into your mind. You never stopped thinking about Wanda after that day. Every time you would sit by yourself in the campus cafe, you would often think about all the lunches the two of you shared together.

You had received an offer to work in your high school's library after college, which made you ecstatic. You've always loved your high school's library. It's the best one you've ever visited.

However, you're concerned about whether Wanda still works there. In the past five years, you haven't tried to look for or talk to her at all.

You rented an apartment that would be closer to the school when it started in August. You decided to stop at the coffee shop where you would get your hot pumpkin spice latte, even in the summer months. You remembered when you would occasionally bring Wanda one as well.

When you walked in you heard the familiar bell that would ring anytime someone walked in or out. After you order your drink you settle at a table near the window loving the view it offers. As you take in the scenery you hear a familiar laugh. That couldn't possibly be- You thought as you turned around.

Your eyes met a sight that took your breath away.

There was Wanda looking as gorgeous as ever just like she was five years ago. Her hair color hadn't changed; it was the auburn color of red you adored, even her laughter that was echoing throughout the cafe was the same. Across from her sat another redheaded woman, their fingers laced together, sharing a moment of what looked to be pure love and happiness.

The sight filled you with mixed emotions. You were happy that she was happy, but you couldn't help but feel envy bubbling up inside you. That should be me.

As you stood up to leave not even caring about how sweet the pumpkin spice flavor on your tongue would be. You hear her laughter subsided. Wanda's gaze wandered and locked with yours. For a brief moment, time stood still, and memories rushed back.

A smile, warm and understanding, on her lips as she gave a small wave. You go to wave back, but you're paralyzed. Unable to move or breathe. The only thing that brings you back is the sound of your name being called. “Y/n…Pumpkin spice latte hot?" The barista called out.

"Y- yes, that's me." You replied quickly, grabbing your coffee and practically running out of there.

You couldn't believe you just saw her again and in the midst of self-patronizing for not waving back and standing there like a deer in headlights. You had one thought.

Who is that woman?

♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎

Lemme know what you think!! and if you want more

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sameschmidtdiffname · 8 months

Text

Easy Money

Derek Danforth x AFAB!Reader

Summery: Minimum wage is a joke these days and we've all gotta make rent somehow. And who knew blonds could be so fun?

Tags: AFAB/Female pronouns reader, no use of y/n, voyeurism, sex worker!Reader, drug use (marijuana), sex while high, drinking, cursing, bisexual Reader, fetish party, reader plays with several people, tempature play/improper use of ice cubes, sex toys, possessive!Derek, dick piercing (I will not debate this,) face fucking, breast play, oral sex (male recieving), thigh riding, cock warming, cowgirl and doggy position, praising, pet names, edging, rough sex, spanking, vaginal fingering, degradation, dumbification if you squint, dacrophillia. There is no plot. This is just porn. Straight up.

Notes: Y'all begged to me, now y'all begging to your man. You're welcome. Also, please consume substances responsibly. Do NOT assume an edible ain't shit. They ALWAYS are.

•°○《▪︎☆▪︎》○°��

The gig is simple. Stand there and look pretty.

The woman who had hired all of us was very clear on the rules; serve drinks, talk to the men, don't have a brain, and if Derek Danforth gives you an ounce of attention, you return it. Sex was optional, but they pay less if you do not engage.

I was just there for the check. Times are hard, but this dress is easy to fit into... if I don't breathe. Jesus, it's tight.

The architecture of the mansion is beautiful. Really, if I wasn't working this party I'd be studying every room for an hour each. High ceilings, detailed woodwork. It's a shame it's all bathed in purple blacklights with everyone wearing neon glowsticks.

The people in attendance are in various states of undress. Some wear their clothes fully, some wear nothing at all. Most are in various states of undress, including the waitresses.

All of our dresses are the same- tight, black, and an easily detachable top with nipple pasties underneath in the shape of blacklight activated glow stars. It's tacky, but the girls who have removed their tops are getting way more tips. And with the debt I'm in, plus the security making absolute sure no camera are recording anything, what's the harm in if I join them? It's more money for me.

The various trays contain different things. Some drinks or shots, others different foods. Then there's the drugs. Oh yes. Cocaine, pills, capped needles on at least one tray I noticed. On mine are several marijuana joints, blunts and even edibles. Our employer had told us we were allowed to indulge, but any damages caused due to our inebriation would come out of our check.

Edibles usually aren't shit for me, so I feel quite safe.

A strawberry cube is tucked safely under my tongue, taking a long while to melt. I can feel my muscles relaxing, making me smile more to the guests as I work my way through the crowd. The beginning gentle buzz helps me to forget the way these people leer at me, some even reaching over to touch me before retracting their hands quickly.

"These guests are quite used to casual sex," the woman had informed us. "There's a code here. You'll each have a pendant around your neck. Depending on the color you choose it will inform them of your preference. Red is for looking only, green means you're okay with sexual touch. It's up to your verbal communication if that touch leads to penetration."

The party was tacky, but at least consent was key.

My color currently is red. It will take more of this edible for anything to change. And currently I see no one making the trouble worth it, anyways.

Right now, anyways.

A man with bright, blond tipped hair and a loud outfit works his way through the crowd. Laughing and speaking with some, taking in the different women serving different items. There's a confident swagger in his walk, one that normally I would scoff at when sober. But with the melting cube quickly joining my bloodstream, I simply stare curiously. It's unintentional, honestly. But he takes notice, narrowing his eyes in reciprocated curiosity before making his way over.

"You're new," he says. I offer him the tray.

"I don't know what you mean," I say politely. He picks up a large blunt, taking out his own lighter instead of using one of the complementary ones on the tray. He takes a long pull, shoving the item back into his snakeskin jacket pocket that doesn't match his zebra print, silk looking button up with black leather pants.

"The other girls have been working here for awhile. Who brought you here?" He asks after taking a long pull, holding it.

"Riley," I answer. He nods, exhaling.

"She's worked here a couple years. You two close?" He asks.

Not particularly. "We're friends," I answer. He smiles a bit, taking another hit.

"You like the party?" He asks.

"I like the lighting," I answer. "And I can't say no to free edibles."

"You take some?" He asks. In answer I scoop the edible onto my tongue and stick it out for him to see. "Good girl, that shit will make you relaxed."

"How much is it?" I ask curiously. Can't be too much, surely.

"Told my guys to pick up 1000mgs," he answers, taking another hit.

... what?

My confusion must be obvious.

"You not used to that?" He chuckles, leaning against the wall next to me.

"I induldge regularly, just... lower amounts," I answer. He exhales, laughing.

"You'll have fun then. Especially if you change your color to green, but that's completely up to you," he says. There's a moment of silence between us before I speak up.

"Nice outfit," I say. He raises a brow at me.

"Yeah?" He asks, scanning me up and down. "I think I prefer yours."

"It matches better, that's for sure," I say. He laughs, then sticks out his hand, his smile confident.

"I'm Derek, by the way."

"Ah," I say. Derek.

Derek!

"Nice to meet you, Mister Danforth," I say, accepting his hand. It's warm and large, strong against mine.

"I don't want to hear Mister out of you unless you change colors, pretty girl," he says, squeezing my hand. I feel myself smiling, heart fluttering a little.

"And what would happen if I did change it, Mister?" I ask politely. His grin widens.

"Well, with the way you look already I'd say people would have a fun time with you," he says, stepping closer. "I wouldn't mind a taste myself. I like my girls warmed up, though."

"Warmed up?" I ask, raising my brow.

"I'll tell you what," he says. "You're welcome to leave your tray anywhere, as I'm sure they've told you. You can change your color to green, enjoy your edible and just let the crowd guide you to me. I promise they will." His eyes roam over me, taking me in with a hungry gaze, his mind distracted by obvious thoughts. I wonder how well his shoulders would hold me.

Shit. He's right, this is strong. The herbal smell on his breath is inviting, and I'm already leaning in. Plus, his outfit is beginning to make visually stimulating sense.

"Isn't it polite for a host to show his guest around?" I ask, batting my lashes. I can feel my eyes drying out, my cheeks buzzing and my body beginning to feel the bass of the music just a little bit more than I was a second ago.

"It is, pretty girl," Derek says, taking another hit. "But you're not a guest, are you?"

No, I'm not. I begin to pull away when his hand catches my pendant.

"You want me to get that for you?" He asks, exhaling through his nose.

"Yes sir," I answer with a smile, placing my tray carefully on the table beside me.

"Good girl," he praises, changing the color with a quick flick of his thumb. "You'll fit in just fine."

Before I can respond, his lips attach to my neck, sucking earnestly and harshly. I can't help the small cry that escapes me, my hand finding his hair and burying itself in it as he pins me against the wall.

His hand cups my breast, kneeding it carefully as he creates patterns across my skin with his mouth, licking at the newly bruised flesh before moving on to a new, unmarked area. He holds his blunt up for me, trying to keep it still enough to allow me to take a hit. I accept, holding his hand steady by the wrist, inhaling as much as I can.

His lips detach from my throat, his eyes red and glazed over as his lips graze mine.

"Care to share?" He asks lowly, his fingers still tweaking at my nipple. I'm vaguely aware that my pasties have been removed, where they've gone to I've no clue.

Obediently, I blow the smoke into Derek's mouth, his hand leaving my breast to cup my jaw, holding my mouth open with his large thumb. Once I'm done he takes his own hit, holding it for a moment before pressing his lips against mine, sealing them together before blowing the smoke into my mouth as well. His tongue slides against mine, tasting of whiskey and smoke. I don't hate the way it blends with the sweet, surgery strawberry cube still melting under my tongue.

He pulls away slightly, breathing heavily.

"You taste sweet," he says. "Mind if I try some?"

"Go ahead," I answer. I expect him to take an edible from the tray, but instead he leans in again, his tongue searching for the half melted candy. He finds it under my tongue, slipping it onto his and then pulling away, smiling in satisfaction.

"Oh," I breathe, batting my lashes in surprise.

"I'll trade you," he says, pressing a small kiss to my cheek as he passes the blunt to me. "Just let the crowd lead you, sweet girl. I'll see you in a bit."

Before I can even think of a response, he slips amongst the crowd, gone in the blink of a hazy eye.

Alright. This is fine. Great, actually. I take a hit of the sour tasting blunt and begin walking amongst the crowd.

Derek was right, I am an eye catcher. Or maybe these people aren't particularly picky. But it doesn't take long at all before people are touching me, sliding their hands over my hips as I pass by, stopping me for a moment to press me against their bodies, leaving a mark or three on my skin. The attention makes my mind blank, smiles on my lips as I whisper 'thank you's, the patrons slipping tips into the tight pockets of my skirt as they release me, letting me blend into the crowd once more until someone else catches me.

I should be revolted, I know this. But the people aren't hard to look at, and with as much as I have flowing through my system all I can really think about is how amazing I feel. My joints feel like air is passing straight through them, my head feels light and free of racing thoughts. The lights entrance me, making me easily distractable until a woman guides me gently towards her group, placing me on her lap as she talks with what I'm guessing are work colleagues. Or something. Fuck if I care.

Her hand strokes my back carefully, not speaking to me as I continue hitting my almost burnt out blunt. She glances at me from time to time, smiling sweetly as she watches me.

"Can I have some?" The older woman asks gently. Her lips are painted a dark black, revealing white teeth underneath. Her features are sharp, contoured by heavy makeup. Her hair is shaggy and black, and God, she's... broad. Muscular and looking like she could eat me alive. I wouldn't mind if she tried.

I hand her the last little bit, letting her have what remains as I begin to focus on her hair. It's soft, feeling amazing between my fingers.

"You have anywhere you need to be for the rest of the night?" She asks, her voice deep.

"Derek," I breathe, barely focusing. She and the other women amongst her let out a noise of recognition, some even laughing a little.

"He likes his girls pent up," Another says, nodding. "Says he likes them used, but we all know that's not true."

"Derek likes to go for hours," warns a woman with blue hair that glows in the blacklight. "Hope you have a lot of energy saved up. If he likes you, you won't go home for days."

The woman with black hair is finishing the blunt, flicking away the last little bit and letting it land wherever.

"You mind if we help you?" She asks.

"No," I answer, my hands running over her broad, leather covered shoulders. "I don't mind."

The women aw over me, moving closer and touching different parts of me.

"Focus on my thigh, good girl," says the dark haired one. "Just rock yourself against it and let me know when you're close." She turns to the second woman, nodding her head towards me. "You want to taste her?"

The second woman nods, joining me on her lap and grinding herself against the first woman's other thigh before bending over to wrap her lips around my nipple, moaning as she does.

The third woman, the one with blue hair, simply watches, continuing to talk to the dark haired woman, stroking my back as she does. The first woman seems engaged in the conversation, occasionally sucking on my other breast before responding to the blue haired woman. The second woman is fully engrossed in tasting me, sucking and nipping at my breast eagerly, moaning as she does.

The stimulation feels amazing, my head tilted back as I rock on the dark haired woman's thigh, my body feeling things it never has before. The feeling of two women sliding their tongues across my sensitive nipples, sucking on them at the same time at different paces is almost enough on its own to make me cum. I can feel how wet I am even through my underwear, surely staining the first woman's clothes.

"Shit, Ava. She may not make it to Derek at this point," laughs the blue haired woman. The first woman, Ava, simply smiles, admiring me.

"Should we let you cum, good girl? Or do you want Derek?" She asks, bouncing her leg as she does.

I moan loudly, my mind unable to form a response. This is lovely, just absolutely wonderful. But something tells me that if I waited, if I edged myself like Derek seemed to prefer, then I would be well rewarded.

"Wait," I pant, still rocking my hips against her thigh. The three women groan, laughing a little more as they begin to give me space.

"You think she's good enough for him?" Ava asks the second woman.

"If she's not, he's out of his mind," she says, tearing herself away from my breast and standing to move onto the blue haired woman's lap instead.

Ava guides me off of her before standing tall and admittedly terrifying. She pulls me up gently, taking my hand and leading me through the room. "Follow me, sweet girl," she says. "I'll take you to the main event."

The other two women wave at me, smiling wickedly before turning their focus onto each other. As the drugs begin to hit harder, just a little ways from my peak, I begin to wonder what it is I've really gotten myself into.

A pair of double doors reveal the same dyed blond man on a plush couch, lounging lazily as he speaks to a small group of people in the private lounge. Upon seeing me guided into the room, he smiles eagerly, quickly sitting up.

"I told you you'd find me," he says, setting his whiskey glass in front of him on the small, glass table.

I smile warmly at him, trying to keep my balance as I walk around to him.

"You get her all ready for me, Ava?" He asks, gently placing his hands on my hips and guiding me to sit on his lap, my back pressed against his chest.

"I did," the woman says, joining us. "She's pretty pent up."

"Did she get you pent up, pretty girl?" Derek asks, laughing softly. I can feel the blush in my cheeks, my eyes barely able to stay open as I lean my head back onto his shoulder.

"Feel her if you don't believe me," Ava offers. Derek obliges, dipping his hand between my thighs, pushing my thin panties to the side.

"Fuck," he groans. "You weren't kidding."

Derek guides my legs to spread open, one hand keeping me open for everyone to watch as his other hand explores my vulva.

"Don't worry about everyone else," he whispers in my ear. "We're all just here for a good time. Right, pretty girl?"

I nod, moaning as his finger swirls around my clit. He continues speaking to his friends, drinking casually as his hand toys with me.

"You want some?" He asks, offering me the glass. I shake my head. I'm fucked up enough.

"Water?" He asks. At that I nod, and with the quick snap of his fingers it only takes a blink before he's holding a water in front of me, complete with ice cubes inside.

"Go ahead," he says. "Take a drink."

I obediently lean forward, placing my bottom lip on the edge as Derek tips the water into my mouth. It's soothing at first, my body relishing the cold rush it gives me. Derek's hand glides up and down my folds, teasing my entrance.

"You like the cold?" Derek asks. I try to respond, forgetting the glass in front of me. The water spills down onto my body, freezing and making me cry out in shock at the sudden sensation.

Derek and his friends laugh, his lips pressing soothing kisses along my shoulder blade.

"I'm sorry, were you not ready for that?" He asks sweetly, smiling at me. I shake my head. He places the glass on the table in front of us, collecting a couple of ice cubes before leaning back and adjusting me to face him.

"Let's get you prepped then, yeah?" He asks, popping one into his mouth and chewing.

My eyes widen, mouth opening in question just before Derek wraps his own lips around my nipples, sucking gently and swirling the quickly chewed cube around the hard bud.

"Fuck!" I cry, leaning backwards. Ava catches me, stroking my hair as she watches.

"I knew he'd like you," Ava says in my ear. "He likes breaking in the new girls personally."

Derek's fingers tease my entrance, threatening to dip in while he sucks on my breast, moaning around the cold flesh. He swirls his spit around, rubbing my clit with his thumb.

"You taste amazing," he moans, his breath cold. "Love to taste more."

I moan happily, spreading my legs more and bucking against his hand.

"Take me," I moan. "Do whatever you want."

"Jesus, she's excited," he laughs. "How long has it been, sweet girl?"

Too long. Much too long.

It must be obvious based on the way he trails lower, kissing and sucking on my skin as he begins to slip my skirt and underwear off of my lower body.

"Is this okay?" He asks, looking up at me expectantly. I nod eagerly, rolling my hips towards him impatiently.

"I don't think she likes teasing, Derek," Ava comments.

"No?" He laughs. "Do you like teasing, sweet girl?"

I shake my head slightly, whining. He and Ava laugh, Derek placing a kiss on my stomach.

"Well, I don't want to go too fast, new girl," he says. "Could break you, you know."

"No you won't," I whine. Derek sucks sharply on the spot, leaving a dark mark.

"Gonna have to teach her a thing or two, aren't I, Ava?" He asks. "You know where that toy is?"

"What toy?" I ask.

"Don't you worry about a thing, pretty girl," Derek instructs. "I'm gonna take care of everything for you now. Just relax."

Ava removes herself from the couch, disappearing to look for something. As I'm distracted, Derek slips an ice cube into my warm cunt.

"Ah!" I cry out sharply, arching my back as my hips roll automatically, unsure what to do to relieve myself. "It's cold."

Derek simply laughs, sitting up straight and dragging me onto his thick thigh.

"It's supposed to be," he says mockingly. "That'll work in the meantime while we wait for Ava to come back."

I start to grind against his thigh, my cunt clenching around the cold cube rapidly as I feel the melting water begin to drip out of me. Derek pulls my hair, tutting his tongue against his teeth as he shakes his head.

"Stay still, that's an order," he says sharply. Someone offers him a cigarette, which he takes with no hesitation. When someone offers me one as well, he waves them away.

"She's had enough," he says. He keeps his hand in my hair, keeping a close eye on me to make sure I don't move.

"You enjoying the party?" He asks me.

"Yes," I say.

"Yes what?" He asks, taking a drag.

"Yes, sir?" I say. He smiles.

"Good. You're smart." He turns his attention to a man asking about some account, rambling something about bitcoin and such. Ugh. I don't know why I'm surprised.

I keep my hands clasped behind my back, pressing my chest forward to allow him easy access. This pleases him, his smile growing genuine whenever he glances my way. Once he bounces his leg, making me squirm for more. At that, he pulls my hair, shaming me for breaking the rule.

"Behave," he commands sharply. A few minutes later, however, he bounces his leg again. This time he doesn't stop.

The jolting motion sends shockwaves through my system, the drugs making me weak and stupid. He's not watching me, seeming involved in the conversation, and this ice cube is nearly melted inside of my cunt, dripping more and more. I can't handle this.

I shift my hips subtly, testing the waters. He doesn't notice, and if he does he doesn't care. I do it again, slightly harder against his thigh. Derek is talking about some party in Havana, laughing about a different conquest. I work slowly, making sure he won't turn his eye onto me. Finally, after a few minutes of grinding against him, I feel confident enough to begin a slow, steady rhythm against his thigh, his leg still bouncing against me.

My body feels amazing. Light, stimulation pounding throughout me, it only takes a few minutes before I'm on edge again, my pussy making his thigh slick and easy to grind against as I ride him. My cheeks burn with heat, my eyes eyes fluttering shut as I lose myself in the rhythm, fully focused on how hard his leg is bouncing. The vibrations go right to my clit, making my pussy seize around nothing now as my pulsing heat had caused the cube to disappear. I begin to grind faster and faster, desperate to cum. I don't realize I've begun panting, moaning as I ride him, and the attention in the room has turned towards me in full with Derek rubbing his hand up and down my back slowly, grazing his nails across the skin of my back as he watches with a look that makes him look like the cat who ate the canary.

"You close, sweet girl?" He asks me. My blush deepens, my eyes fluttering open in realization. Derek simply quirks a brow at me, exhaling his smoke into my face as he waits for my answer. My hips stutter, hesitating to continue.

"Don't get shy," Derek scolds. "You were just fine fucking yourself a moment ago. What's a few dozen people watching you?" He asks.

People are chuckling now, making small comments of encouragement.

"You looked so pretty, baby. Fucking yourself stupid on my thigh," he says as his lips tease my tits. "Didn't she look pretty, everyone?" He asks the room, glancing around at the people who respond with affirmations.

I lean forward, trying to hide my face in the crook of his neck. What had I been doing? In front of this entire room? I'd just needed a few quick bucks, that's all this was supposed to be. This was exponentially further than I'd ever planned.

Derek tuts, pulling me away from my hiding place. "Oh no, you wanted to cum. I'm going to make sure you cum," he chides. "I wonder how you'd feel on my cock. Would you like that? You'd feel better if you were on my cock, wouldn't you?"

I nod shyly, my eyes avoiding everyone but Derek. He glances around the room once more, noises of encouragement growing louder.

"You wanna get me ready, baby?" He asks encouragingly, taking one of my hands from behind my back and guiding it to his stiff, clothed cock.

I gasp lightly, squeezing it and grazing my thumb up and down his dick covered by the tight, leather material.

"You look big," I mutter.

"Feel big too," he chuckles. "Go on, try it out. I think you'll like it."

I think I will.

It's hard to see in the odd lighting, so my hands struggle with the hidden zipper.

"Try getting closer," Derek teases, his breath warm against my ear. "It doesn't bite like I do." To emphasize his point, he sinks his teeth into my neck, harsh and quick before releasing me, leaning back in his chair. The sudden movement makes me dizzy, my mind reeling as I automatically sink to my knees in front of the plush, velvet sofa.

Once his pants are opened, he springs out, no underwear confining him. Jesus. He's mostly average, leaning towards the larger side. It's mostly the piercing that surprises me.

"Like it?" He asks. I glance up at him, his grin cocky as he takes a drag from his new cigarette. Hey, man. What happens if I swallow this?

I stammer, opening my mouth and trying to say something.

"You need help?" He asks, wrapping his hand decorated with several rings around his shaft. "Open your mouth again," he commands. I do so without hesitation. His other hand guides my head down, forcing me to swallow it halfway down. I moan in satisfaction, my eyes slowly shutting as I take in the taste of his skin.

"Atta girl. Take a minute if you need to," he says casually. I can smell the thick smoke near my head, his hand stroking my hair gently. Ava must have returned because he's telling someone how warm my mouth is.

"You ready, sweetheart?" He asks. "Wanna show you off for my friends."

Taking a deep breath and opening my eyes once more, I lower myself slowly to his base. He's just long enough that when his piercing collides with my uvula I cough, nearly choking on him. More gentle laughter escapes the crowd, Derek praising me as he begins to thrust into my mouth.

"Just stay there, sweetheart," he says. "I'll do the work."

True to his word, Derek begins pumping his dick in and out of my mouth, whispering something in Ava's ear. I begin taking in the other people around the room, most of them watching us eagerly.

"Watch me, sweetheart," he commands, snapping his fingers and pointing at himself. "You don't have anywhere to look but here."

I obey, keeping my eyes trained on him as he smokes his cigarette which rests between his lips, his jaw gritted as he rolls his hips into my throat, his eyes glazed over in pleasure and who knows what else.

Without warning, someone begins fingering my cunt. A startled moan escapes me, vibrating around Derek's throbbing cock and making him moan, his face confident.

"Don't worry baby, it's just Ava," he says, stroking my hair. "You like Ava, right?"

I moan again, Ava's fingers quick and shallow in my tight pussy.

"Ava certainly likes you. Almost stole you from me, isn't that right?" He asks her, tapping his cherry carelessly onto the floor behind him.

"That's right," her deep voice purrs in my ear. I moan again, my eyes almost fluttering shut from pleasure until Derek grabs my hair, fucking my face roughly to bring my attention back to him.

"Hey now, don't get too happy," he scolds, but he's smiling. "You still like me more, right baby?"

I moan, pressing my tongue to his underside as he slides in and out. He tastes sweet, his jewelry creating an interesting feeling in the back of my throat. Ava withdraws her fingers, quickly replacing them with a vibrating bullet instead.

"Mmph!" I moan, my eyes nearly fluttering shut again. The speed increases, making me drip and writhe my hips against nothing.

"God, she's fun," Derek moans. "Ava, book her for Cabo," he says.

Cabo??

"You like her that much?" Ava laughs. Derek simply glares at her. Is this a thing? Trading girls, fighting over them? What is this?

"Just fucking talk to whoever about it," he spits, his dick quickening in my throat. I'm gagging around him, barely able to catch my breath as I press my hands desperately against his thighs. "Anyone else fuck her tonight?"

"Don't know," Ava shrugs. She brings her face close to mine, her breath hot in my ear. "Did they?"

I moan, trying to shake my head. Derek nods, smiling.

"Perfect," he drawls. The bullet inside of me is driving me insane, enough to keep me on the edge of pleasure but not enough to tip me over. My eyes look up at him, wide and begging, tears beginning to spill from my waterline and streaming down my face.

"You're killing her," Ava scolds him. "Is he being mean?" She asks me. Yes.

"She can take it," Derek says. "You like it a little mean, don't you baby?" He asks, smiling. Yes.

"See?" Derek says. "She's just fine."

Actually, I'm about to hit my peak drug wise, and I can't fucking breathe. But all it does is make me want more, my throat taking him as deep as I can as I moan around him, my tongue moving desperately, eager to swallow his load.

"Think I should cum down her throat?" He asks Ava, his head tilted back in pleasure, cigarette nearly burnt out between his lips.

"Would you like that?" Ava asks, setting the speed of the bullet to max. I scream around Derek's cock, overstimulated and stupid. "I think that's a yes."

"God, you're amazing," he praises. "Such a perfect fucking slut."

Right before he reaches his edge, he pulls me away, admiring the long, thick string of spit that still connects my swollen lips to his cock.

"Look at that," he says. "Should take a picture of that someday."

His hand drags me up by my hair, guiding me to return to his lap. Once I'm straddled across his lap, his fingers delve into my cunt, fucking me quickly as he presses the bullet against my g-spot.

"You like my cock, pretty girl?" He asks.

"Yes," I moan, my voice and throat raw.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, sir."

"Excellent."

His fingers remove the bullet, and he quickly replaces his hand and bullet with his pulsing cock, both of us moaning at the feeling.

"Jesus, fuck," he moans. "You are fucking tight. I can feel everything."

My cunt spasms around him, eager for whatever friction he'll grant me. He stays still, something that's clearly a challenge for him.

"Gonna stay there for awhile," he says. "Wanna make sure you're ready, baby."

My spit on his dick makes for excellent lube, his piercing comfortable against my cervix. His hands run up and down my thighs, squeezing here and there, eventually moving to massage my ass.

"The crowd loves you," he praises, pulling me close to his chest. "Think I love you too."

I'm very high. I'm very horny. I will do whatever this fried hair, cocky ass motherfucker tells me to do.

A waitress walks behind the couch, offering us a tray of joints. Isn't that my job?

"Go ahead, take one," Derek instructs me. I do so, reaching for the lighter on the tray.

"Don't bother, I have one in my pocket. Thank you," he says to the waitress, dismissing her. He reaches into his coat, taking out the lighter before discarding the jacket, leaving him in his zebra printed button up that shows off his chest hair along with a white gold sparkling chain.

He holds the lighter for me, lighting up the joint as I hold it between my lips.

"You're gonna smoke me out, okay angel?" He says, leaning back against the couch, his arms stretched out along the back. I rest one hand against his chest, taking a hit and holding it for a second before leaning forward and blowing it into his mouth.

One of his hands find my hair, pressing my lips against his, his cock twitching inside of me as his tongue slips into my mouth, establishing dominance before allowing me to pull away for another hit. Then another. Then another.

As he inhales the last hit, his hips begin rolling into mine, his voice low as he groans.

"Go on and start riding me, angel," he moans, completely lost in the pleasure. "Show me how you want me."

My hands grasp his shoulders, clinging desperately as I begin to glide up and down his length, his cock twitching against my most sensitive spots with each glide.

"You ever fuck a pussy as good as this?" I ask, watching his jaw shift subtly from side to side as he focuses on my tightness.

"Oh, she speaks now?" He asks, smirking. "Grow a fucken brain, princess?"

His tip slams into my cervix, making me gasp and press my tits into his face. His mouth works quickly, biting and sucking at the tender mounds as I ride him.

"I'm just making conversation," I say. I'm high enough my filter is gone, my brain rotted to the point I'm only focused on my pleasure. He moans against my tit, looking up at me while he buries himself in my body.

"I can't say I have," he says, grinning. "Why, that turn you on?"

Immensely. Not that I'd tell him that.

"Say it," he dares, his cock slamming into me. "Don't hold out on me."

"Maybe I will," I tease, tugging his hair. My hips speed up, riding him hard enough I can feel the couch rocking ever so slightly.

"You're fun," he chuckles. "Say it."

"No," I say, slamming my wet cunt against his base, making him groan loudly.

His teeth sink into my skin, pulling on my nipple to the point I'm on the razors edge of pain and pleasure.

"I don't mind waiting," he says, his tongue flicking against my nipples. "I like causing pain."

His teeth sink in deeper, his fingernails dragging down my back slowly as he slams into me, making me bounce hard enough I can feel it in my stomach.

This is a hell of a paycheck.

"I like it," I say. He chuckles.

"That's not enough," he says.

"I wanna be the best girl you've fucked," I add.

"Mm, need more details." His teeth release my nipple, leaning forward and quickly catching it once more, sucking on the almost raw flesh hard enough it feels like I won't be able to wear a shirt for the next day or two. One of his hands return to my hair, gripping it and pulling it hard enough I can see the people behind us, some of them still watching, some focused on each other, most people switching between the two as they fuck each other.

"Come on, you were just so confident," he laughs against me before returning to his task. My chest burns with want and embarrassment, my eyes glazing over as I give in.

"I wanna make you pussy whipped," I moan. "I wanna glance at something and get it from how desperate you are to get the chance to fuck me."

He chuckles lowly. "I think we'll get along for a while," he says in a satisfied tone, finally releasing my tits from his torture.

"Gonna get me on payroll?" I ask, smiling as I throw my leg onto the back on the couch, giving him better access to fuck me.

"Play your cards right and I'll get my surname on you, pretty girl."

It's an evening of drugs and sex, come morning I'm sure he won't even remember my eye color. But for tonight, can't a bitch dream?

"Go ahead and laugh," he dares. "I get what I want."

"And you want me?"

"Fuck yeah."

He forces me to my side, turning me onto my stomach and hiking my ankles onto his shoulders.

"Jesus!" I cry, feeling his cock bury into me from behind, slamming straight into an overwhelming spot that makes me blind with pleasure.

"Too much," I cry. "Fuck, too much!"

"And that's a problem?" He laughs, abusing me as he smacks my ass, admiring the way my skin reddens.

"Yeah, you're not getting another dick ever again," he decides, his hips chasing after a high that tears screams from my throat. I'm so overstimulated I don't even know if I can cum, my eyes crossed and ass feeling his palm bearing down on the sensitive flesh time and time again, growing more rapid in succession, forcing me to clench his length harder with each new hit.

"Come on, pretty girl," he growls, pressing his chest against my back, his hands keeping my hips pressed against him with no chance to escape. His balls smack against my clit, making me moan in stupidity. "I know you want to."

I cry out, tears streaming down my face, hair stuck to my wet skin as I feel my cunt begin to throb in warning, my stomach clenching as the knot inside me begins to snap, my mind growing fuzzy and static as I pant eagerly.

"Fuck, she's close," Derek moans to someone, small whimpers escaping him as he pumps into me, his teeth digging into my shoulder, sending me over the edge.

Someone's screaming, and I have the vague idea it may be me. I can feel Derek's front soaked in my cum, his dick slamming into me in a way that I just know I'll have a migraine in a few minutes.

"Good girl," he praises. "Fuck. Amazing girl. Taking good dick like a fucking pro."

His cock throbs in me as he cums, deep and right next to my cervix, keeping himself buried as his seed pumps into me, hot and thick.

"I wasn't joking, sweetheart," he mutters in my ear, his voice exhausted. "You and I are going to become good, good friends."

I groan as I feel him slip out, his fingers pushing any cum that drips from my folds back into me, then placing a plug into my aching cunt. His hand grips my hair, pulling me back up to sit on his lap as he accepts a new drink, his cheeks flushed as he tries to regain his breath.

"Let's get something to get your energy back up, hmm?" He asks, pressing a firm kiss on my sweaty forehead.

▪︎《•☆•》▪︎

Cabo doesn't sound all that bad, Danforth. Not bad at all.

Masterlist

I wrote this instead of sleeping. Anyways, see you next time for Mike Schmidt. Stay safe pookies <3

#josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson fanfic #derek danforth #derek danforth smut #derek danforth x reader #derek danforth beekeeper #the beekeeper #derek danforth x you #jhutch #josh hutcherson x reader

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bettymylove · 8 months

Note

hello! I really love your work and I was thinking if you could write a one-shot of theo inspired by the song " Open Arms by SZA ". but somehow make it a good ending? idk 😓 ( like a slow burn or something ) reader had to let theo go but theo is kind of begging..? for reader to stay in his life and so on! idk if I explained it good enough but you can search up the song and take a look at the lyrics, you'll see what topic I'm going for!

thank you if your write this! you're an amazingg writer ‼️

never leaving

pairing: theo nott x reader

content: your insecurities push you to break your friendship with Theo, only to realize you were wrong all along.

a/n: hope this matches your expectations, I'm sorry if it didn't<33 (also I feel like I'm apologizing in every a/n)

You could say that Theo took you in, he was the only person in your life that ever made you feel too comfortable. When you were on the train, he had befriended you and he never let his friendship falter.

Theo was everything, he was all you could ever need and it scared you how much you were dependent on him. You had never needed anyone, always doing everything by yourself but you could see that changing.

Friends weren't a usual sight in your life and Theo had changed that, but you still had your doubts and maybe that's why you had decided to tell him.

You always had a lingering feeling, that he was taking pity on you because who would willingly spend so much time with you, call themselves your best friend, he had no reason to do it.

You spotted Theo in the hallway along with Mattheo and Enzo. The former two were smoking, and Theo's eyes met yours, and he immediately threw down his cigarette, crushing it using the sole of his shoe.

His eyes stayed on you while yours diverted here and there, ashamed to even meet his gaze. You wanted to be with him, but he was ruining his life for you, he was way too enamored and you wanted to help him.

You reached the group and scrunched your nose at the nicotine smell, Theo noticed this and dragged you away. Why does he have to be sweet and make this harder? you thought.

"Theo, I-" You questioned yourself, he was the only person who knew you but it would be too selfish to make him stay, so you continued, "I don't think we should be friends anymore"

Maybe friends wasn't the right word to describe you two, you weren't dating but he never dated anyone else and it's not like you could. You always hoped it was because he harbored some feelings for you but that had been a foolish fantasy.

"Y/n, I'm sorry sweetheart, I won't ever smoke again, I mean this was the first time in weeks, I really am trying" what? he thought this was about him smoking?

"No, Theo it's not about that." you simply stated trying to make him understand about you suddenly pulling away. He stared at you, his mouth opening and closing as if he wanted to say something but really could find the words.

"You can't do this, you cannot wake up on a random day and decide to remove me from your life as if I'm a pawn in your chess board" he was almost yelling, Theo had never yelled at you nor had he ever gotten angry at you, it was always you being mad and him picking up on it.

You remembered a scenario from second year and how different times had gotten now, you had changed and him not so much but you guess it was for his better.

"Where's y/n?" The twelve year old Theodore Nott asked his friend and said friend just shrugged in response before saying, "She hasn't been talking to anyone."

You're mad, he knew you were you always shut everyone out when you were, falling silent and Theo knew just how to better your mood and so he headed in your direction.

Your flashback stopped when you saw a tear fall from his eyes, you had never seen Theo cry either, only once and that too not intentionally. He was showing every emotion of his and you stood there unable to think, mumbling a sorry before leaving him stranded in that hallway.

Theo was shocked, hurt, angry and was feeling all these emotions at once. He had known you for six years and you had left him in six minutes. He loved you and you couldn't see it.

He knocked on your door for the fifteenth time, and you finally opened it. Your eyes were red and puffed up, you were crying.

"Why are you doing this?" He asked in a small voice unlike the one he used in the hallway, he was scared to lose you.

"You don't need to take anymore pity on me, Theo, go live your life" you said with a sniffle in the end and your statement had only made him more confused.

Pity? he had never taken pity on you, and it hurt himself that you believed that nonsense. "You can't replace me y/n, I'm forever, no matter what."

You so wanted to believe him, you so wanted to be in his arms right now, you so wanted him to stop as he was doing right now but you just couldn't.

"I'm sorry Theo, but I have to" Those were last words to him before you shut the door and Theo couldn't sleep that night.

It had been 2 months, 18 days of you ignoring him and he thought he might go mad, you were driving him crazy, you not being there was so much worse than he had anticipated.

It was late in the night when he spotted you leaning against a railing, breathing hard, and when he got a bit closer he noticed you were crying.

He went to stand beside you, you flinched but then sort of relaxed when you noticed who it was. You laid your head in your hands and started crying even harder and without missing a beat or saying something spiteful, Theo took you in his arms.

It was much later that you realized that you could not live without him, he was your Theo. Your tears wet his shirt but he didn't seem to mind, he never seemed to mind.

"You won't leave again, would you?" He asked as if he knew you were coming back and he was right. "You could try, but this time I won't let you."

You smiled at him, god he was the only person in the world who would never make you feel bad about what you did, and you realise it was only your insecurities holding you back from him.

He kissed your forehead lovingly and hugged you even tighter, "I love you" he whispered, half hoping you didn't hear him, but you did.

#harry potter #slytherin #draco malfoy #theo nott #enzo berkshire #theo nott fic #theo nott x reader #theo nott x y/n #theo nott x you #theodore nott #theo nott imagine #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott fic #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott scenarios #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theo nott one shot

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pinescent-and-gingerbread · 2 months

Note

I was wondering if you could do a little drabble where the reader breaks her leg in an accident and Arthur goes to help her by picking her up and taking her home. Please I want Arthur to hold the reader like a princess! 🥺💞

Here you go sweet anon! 🍑

Yes this was supposed to be a drabble but I got a little carried away as always and this ended up being a bit longer than expected. I hope you won't mind!! 🙏

˖✧To pick up a Peach

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader ✦ Warnings/Tags: Description of a broken leg and physical pain, otherwise this is pure fluff. Arthur being the sweetest gentleman he is in high honor. ✦ Words: 2,4k ✦ a/n: I don't know why but I got carried away with this one and I ended up really loving it. I changed it just a little bit and made Arthur carry you to the doc, cause you know, he wouldn't let you go home without minimum care. He's like that. I made the reader some sort of farmer's daughter AU? Anyway, hope you'll still like it, Anon! Credits. Arthur's pic is mine. Other pics are from Pinterest. Little doodles made by me.

You were screwed.

That’s the thought that was stuck in your mind. Your horse, which the stableman had sworn to you was a gentle and peaceful creature, turned out to be a wild furious animal who was extremely nervous and appeared to have only one idea in mind: go back to where it belonged, the plains of the Heartlands.

You were simply on a ride to Valentine. You would often go there with your sisters on Mondays and Sundays to sell what your family had harvested in your native town, Emerald Ranch, setting up your little stand next to the butcher’s. Usually, these trips were pleasant and you had grown to like them, relieved to see something else than the gloomy and weird atmosphere that had settled in your village.

But your treacherous companion had decided, after an encounter with a snake somewhere near the Twin Stack Pass, that enough was enough. After rearing up as if his life depended on it, he took off at full speed, ejecting you with a crash to the ground, making the wicker basket containing all your precious products fly up in the air like a colorful firework of fruits and vegetables.

An ominous, muffled creak as your body lands.

Stunned, breathless, it took you a few seconds to regain your composure, long gone and galloping off with your horse.

Of course, that had to happen the only time you had decided to ride alone for once.

Your left leg, broken. The fruit of your labors and harvests, your perfect peaches, flawlessly ripe tomatoes and carrots, promising seeds, and beautiful flowers, scattered and smashed on the floor. Your dignity, gone.

Lying back on the dirt, hair spread like a star around your head, surrounded by an indescribable substance made of crushed fruits and flower petals reduced to a mush, you looked like the religious figure of Bad Luck.

On top of that, being a lonely young woman, unarmed, and hurt in the open clearly wasn’t an ideal situation. Any man with bad intentions could easily do the worst thing to you in your state.

You tried to get back in a sitting position. Every movement was igniting the pain in your broken bone, deep inside your calf, spreading it through your entire body like a burning trail of powder. You let out a short pained grunt, followed by a curse. Slowly tugging your skirt up your knee, you took a worried look at your leg.

It looked bad.

Painted with deep colored bruises kind of bad.

The sight of it along with the incessant stabbing pain coming from it made your heart beat faster, and you did your best not to pass out from the nausea that was flying over your head. The panic of not feeling your toes anymore didn't helped at calming your heart rate.

There was no way you could walk back to any town in that state, or contact the rest of your family already waiting for you.

Yes, you were screwed.

Tilting your head backward, you looked at the sky, in an attempt to prevent your threatening tears from falling, or to throw a desperate call to the Heavens, you didn’t really know it yourself.

A muffled sound suddenly made its way to your ears. It looked like your involuntary prayer had been answered sooner than you would have expected.

It was the sound of hooves.

You snapped your head in the noise’s direction and noticed an approaching form on the road, raising a cloud of dust in its wake, coming towards you. Your only hope. You were praying, for real this time, that this upcoming stranger was a gentleman and not a bad man.

Praying, praying, praying.

Praying again as the man was at voice’s reach, and as you screamed and begged for help.

“M-Mister!” Your voice sounded even more pitiful than what you had planned, and a bit hoarse from the pain. Your ego protested, but screw it, he probably was your last chance. “Mister, please! I broke my leg! I can’t… I can’t…”

Apparently, shouting didn't seem to help the nausea. The more you were getting air out of your lungs by screaming the more your head was feeling dizzy.

Luckily for you, the lonely rider had heard your desperate breathless words and was heading towards you, stopping his horse in a skillful maneuver before dismounting, his two boots hitting the ground.

“What happen Ma’am, d’ya need some help?” He asked you, voice powerful and worried frown on his face.

“My horse got spooked by a damn snake and he ran away… Making me fall and I… I think my leg broke…” Your tone was pained and way weaker than his as you did your best to explain the situation, a single tear now streaming down your cheek.

The pain, the panic, the frustration from having a month’s worth of work destroyed in just mere seconds… You couldn’t hold it anymore.

Slowly approaching you, the man lowered himself in a crouching position to take a better look at you, and talk to you at the same eye level. His deep blue eyes studied your broken leg, surely not missing the disturbing, alarming color the bruises were taking, your skin an odd mix of purple and green now. It didn’t seem to disgust him though, his face stoic as he scanned your wound.

“Alright Miss jus’... Don’t move too much.” He advised you in a softer tone. You could see he was truly concerned about your state. “What’s with all this mess? You trynna make some soup or what?” He asked in a deep sarcastic tone, as if amused by his own words.

You drily chuckle, which revived the pain you were still feeling in your bone, making you cut your laugh and groan a bit, your own features contracting in a pained expression.

“It is… It was my crop… I was going to sell it in Valentine…” You explained once again, feeling shame and exasperation hitting you. You were feeling so angry from this waste, so angry at yourself to be the only one responsible for it, you couldn’t prevent more tears from falling, trying hard not to let yourself go into sobs.

“Ah, shit… I’m sorry for ya.” He exhaled, contemplating the scattered and mashed jelly-like matter composed of what was once your yield, pieces of peaches and broken carrots lying there, like on a battlefield. His gaze came back to yours, full of compassion and probably pity for your state, before continuing. “Don’t worry Miss. I’mma take you up to the Doc, in Valentine. ‘Was goin’ there anyway.”

You nodded in order to thank him, feeling so relieved life had put him on your way.

“Okay, I’m gonna help ya get on ma horse. It’s gonna hurt a little but we have to.” He warned you, getting completely down on his knees by your side.

You didn’t dare to move from one inch. He slowly wrapped an arm under your shoulders, his hand grabbing your side. Even more carefully, his other one slipped under your legs, and he gently lifted you up bridal-style, as if you weighed nothing, a fallen leaf in a gentle breeze.

As if he was carrying injured people all day every day.

Your broken member didn’t like it as much as you did though, and you hissed in pain from feeling your own weight pull on the wound as your leg was hanging in the air. He noticed, and spoke again while getting up, just as easily as if he wasn’t carrying an entire person in his arms right now.

“Gonna be okay Miss, hold on a lil’ longer.”

As if taking his words in a literal way, you encircled his waist with your arms and rested your head on his chest. His work shirt was used and dirty, rough against the skin of your cheek, but right now it just felt heavenly to you compared to the dusty rock of the floor. You sighed, feeling calmer and way better now.

If you had brought up your gaze, you could have seen how a slight blush was spreading on the tan skin of his cheeks the moment he felt you getting comfortable in his arms.

You heard him call for his horse with a short whistle and a sharp noise from his teeth. His mount obeyed right away, getting closer to both of you in a happy trot. You wish your horse could have been as gentle as this one. He looked like a really strong and powerful, but very sweet on the inside animal. A bit like its owner, now that you were thinking about it.

As carefully as if you were made of porcelain, the man in question let go of your legs, and you took support on your valid one. He then picked you up again, by your waist, and lifted you on the saddle, helping you to get settled and as comfortable as possible. His large hands were very soft on you, cautious, caring. You could feel how his touch was light and measured, calculated to make you feel the least pain possible.

“You take the saddle, else your leg would get too bumped during the ride.” He explained before hopping behind you, grabbing the reins by bringing his arms from both sides of you.

He was basically enveloping you, his large frame keeping you warm and steady. Against your shoulders, you could feel his biceps, and thanked the Lord once again this man had good intentions with you because there was no way you could have resisted this mountain of muscles.

The silence fell as your gentle savior spurred his horse into a slow pace, keeping him calm and cold-blooded. You mentally thank him for it, every movement from your leg, even the tiniest one, would ignite the flames of your pain again.

The ride to Valentine was a quiet, peaceful one, just like it was supposed to be from the start. Your eyes kept closing and opening as if you were on the verge of falling asleep, but still needed to be alert until you'd be safe and sound in town.

You only had exchanged a few words with the man, your names, and where you lived.

Arthur Morgan didn't look like the kind of man to have the longest conversations but his presence was reassuring nevertheless. His heavy breathing, his body around yours, the calmness of the plains… It was all making your pain less vivid and way more bearable.

Once in Valentine, Arthur rode straight to the Doctor, and got off first, tying his horse's reins around the fence.

“Here we are, Miss. Let's get ya checked up for good, shall we?” He said while standing right next to the saddle, opening his arms to pick you up again, a gentle smile on his face, as if telling you all your worries were behind you now.

If you thought this man was going to let you walk alone to the doc’s office and head off to his own business, you were damn wrong.

Even through your terrible state, a grin curled up your lips and mirrored his own expression. You let your tired and injured body sink into his solid one, and he carried you in his arms once again.

His scent ran through your nose as you breathed, traveling all the way down your veins to your lungs and everywhere in your body, enfolding you and your soul. It was a strong smell, not a delicate one like those gentlemen would carry with their cologne, but you liked it regardless. A mix of leather, sweat, tobacco, and this early dew scent, the one you can smell just before dawn, earthy and herbal, as if he had been sleeping under the stars for months.

The smell of the outdoors.

Arthur opened the door with one foot, and entered the Dr Calloway’s office with you in his arms, careful not to let your leg get knocked while walking through the door. The doctor took care of you right away, ordering Arthur to put you on the chair in the little room where patients were treated.

His muscled arms dropped you, his hands gentle and attentive, as slowly as if you were a newborn filly he could hurt or scare away by using too much force. There was such kindness, such gentleness and care in his gesture that it left you feeling all bubbly on the inside.

You kept on looking at him during all the time it took for Dr Calloway to treat you, waiting for him to just go, but he didn’t. He stayed, casually leaning his back against the wall to leave some space for the doctor, his eyes voyaging from your injury to your face, then away from you, as if he was feeling guilty about staring at you like this. It made you giggle.

You paid the doctor, thanked him goodbye, and before you could process it, here you were, freshly gifted with two crutches and a wooden splint around your injury in front of his door. Perfect. For a farmer family, a hurt worker was a curse.

“You gonna be okay now, Miss? D’ya need another ride home?”

Arthur’s deep voice dragged you out of your thoughts. This man was so special. He looked used, strong, and intimidating, but had been nothing but kind and delicate with you. Right now, his deep azure gaze was staring right at yours, making you feel even weaker in the knees than you already were.

“Oh, don’t worry, my family is already here. We have a wagon and all. Besides, you have done plenty for me, Mister Morgan.”

“Ah, don’t ya worry. 'Did what any man would have done seein’ a pretty lil’ lady like ya hurt on the ground.” He answered with a subtle grin.

Before you could realize it, his hand was reaching out for a strand of your hair, and his fingers brushed against it.

You froze, feeling a dark red settling on your cheeks, your eyes looking back at his in surprise and disbelief, searching for an explanation, even if your heart didn't want it. It wanted more of it, no questions asked.

“You hum… You still got some… pieces of peaches or somethin’ in your hair, Miss…” He explained himself, his voice a little less self-assured than before.

You blushed even more. You indeed must looked like a total mess after your accident, and mentally noted to go fix yourself as soon as possible.

“Oh, God I…” You started, feeling embarrassed and flustered, words mixing and blurring in your mind instead of lining up properly. You just sighed, closing your eyes, giggling a little. You then spoke again, keeping your tone as calm as you could. “Thanks again, Mister Morgan.”

“Please, jus’ call me Arthur.”

“Alright, Arthur. Thank you, for everything. I don’t know how I could thank you enough.”

“You know, maybe I could come someday, at your farm I mean, and buy some of your stuff. You could give me a rebate on those, unless everythin’ you sell actually looks like jam…” He added with a mischievous, low chuckle, gaze sparkling.

“Hey! My crops are perfect, Mister. I promise you won’t be disappointed.” You said back in an equally amused tone, a toothy smile completing the picture of your precious blushing face.

“I'm sure I won’t be, lil’ peach.”

His voice had turned just as soft as his touch had been when carrying you; for Arthur, you really were starting to become his sugary, soft, and delicious favorite fruit.

#I really need to calm myself when people request drabbles but I can't #I knoooow I SHOULD learn to restrict myself but eeeeh #I'm already quite restricted into my everyday life so I let myself get carried away when I write oopsie #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan fluff #request #pinefic

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itz-mfkn-de · 4 days

Note

mattheo x hufflepuff innocent naive type reader 🫡

AHH I LOVE THESE TWO TG🥳🥳 I hope you wanted a toxic Mattheo because that’s what my brain envisions so 🤗 for some reason I couldn’t think of like a story line so I kinda did like headcanons but at the same time it’s like not??? Idk I just hope you like it 😭

Warnings: toxic! Mattheo, manipulations, cussing, power play, black mail.

—

Mattheo riddle who’s never really cared for any of the girls he’d fuck, all of them were just trophies on his wall. (Quite literally, toxic! Mattheo steals a bra from every girl he fucks and puts the up on his wall.)

He saw sex as an outlet, a way to destress, so sex with no strings attached was a common thing in his everyday life to say the least.

That was until he’d saw you.

He could’ve sworn in that moment his heart dropped —to his dick. He was enamored by your pure innocence. The way your hair framed your face, your eyes, everything screamed…virgin. To be completely honest, Mattheo didn’t really care for inexperienced girls; he found such a waste of time. But you? You were a different case.

Toxic! Mattheo who follows you into the library one evening and sees you studying for an upcoming test.

He took only a few long strides too reach you, quick to feign a friendly look.

“Hello, I couldn’t help but notice you were going over some test notes.” He stated while he loomed over your smaller frame.

All you could offer him in response was a meek “yes”.

He quickly inserted himself into your everyday life after that. Study parter, seating chart, shoulder to lean on, you name it and he was there right next to you.

He sugar coated his entire persona, never once lashing out or showing any red flags.

And then you got together. And on boy, did all hell break lose.

Mattheo was controlling. You wanted to go to a study group with some friends? Why, it’s not like he was there? You just want to leave him. He ould feed these thoughts into your head until you’d feel too guilty to leave him.

Not only was he controlling but he was manipulative. You wouldn’t leave your dorm if he didn’t thrill your outfit was appropriate. You belonged to him, so why were you trying to impress other guys? Why did you want him to get angry at you, he just can’t stay happy when you ‘go out dressed Like a slut.’ And you being the sweet, naive, girlfriend you were, you’d go change and beg for his forgiveness. Hoe could you have been so selfish and hurt him like that?

He knew just how to make you bend to his every word, he’d sweet yell and talk down at you just to shower you in affection. He knew you loved him, you relied on him. And he was right, you did.

He’d pressure you to leave your friends if they suggested leaving him, because ‘they just want to tear us apart, why can’t you see that?’. You just wanted your boyfriend to be happy :(

You’d beg him to stop smoking which would only lead to him screaming at you for acting like his mother. You don’t control him, don’t act like you do. You’d walk away crying which hed coo at you for, walking up to you to wipe your tears and comfort you for the pain he caused.

You’d become so isolated from your friends that you’d depend solely on him, your feeling and thoughts all controlled by Mattheo. You were his angel, and he made sure it was known you were his, fighting any guy who’d even dare to look at you. You tried reasoning with him once and it ended in him not taking to you for the entire day.

You were never allowed to talk to other guys, unless it was his best friends which even then, had to be supervised. He was all you needed.

Oh and don’t you ever think of leaving him. He’d be the kind of guy to take pictures of you while you were fucking, and if you tried to leave him he’d threaten to send it to every body in the school. You’d never mention leaving him again. W

At the end of the day, you were the sweet Hufflepuff girl who Mattheo riddle had absolutely ruined.

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ahhhwomen · 2 months

Text

Perfect Soldier

Pairing: Victoria Neuman x Fem!Reader

A/n: This was supposed to be like a big fic with a full storyline, but I decided I was too lazy to write it so yall are only getting the angsty part :) Not the most in-character thing I have written but I'm lazy.

Warnings: Death, description of dying, implication of torture and abuse, mommy issues, blood, swearing, just like 1k words of dying in a pretty lady's arms

“Shhh… hush… you’re okay… fuck.. you’re okay, just breathe…”

Her hands are warm and sticky as they take hold of your face. Amber liquid coats the crevices of her palm, riveting streams collide and split until an intricate pattern of your life form slathers itself like paint against her.

She holds your jaw in a vice-like grip, but you can’t seem to pull focus on anything other than the color of your own blood.

You are bleeding.

The hues change depending on what light reflects against Victoria as she huddles over you. While draping your body atop her lap, the light catches the side of her face where your blood is splattered in uneven coats. With the florescent lights, it almost glows in a lighter red, not quite so dark as the pool beneath you, the thinner drops reflect the light in a shining fashion, almost as if the blood is light itself.

It’s beautiful.

She is beautiful.

She cradles you close to her chest, stealing your view, and gently holds you like a mother would their child, rocking you back and forth. Her power suit is stained, and as she threads her fingers through your hair and holds your head against the crook of her neck, she subsequently only helps to taint the blue material more as your blood seeps deeper.

Victoria speaks to you calmly, with a mixture of soft murmurs, a soothing coo, and the occasional whispered curse, you can’t help but think she is doing it for her own benefit.

“You’re okay … shhh…”

She lessens the grip around your head in favor of petting you gently. Gentle fingers thread and weave in a sea of stained, clumped-together, strands of hair. She works deftly, untangling and taming, scratching her nails against your scalp.

It’s strange… You never knew comfort. Between Red River and the Vought Experimental Center for Youth, you lived in a constant state of pain and confusion. At the time it all felt natural, like you only existed to suffer and serve.

“Shhh…” The black-haired woman hovering over you clutches your jacket, using her handle on you to drag you even closer, it seems she won’t relent until every skin cell on your body merges with her own.

You aren’t making any noise, but the sound of her hushes and tsks settle the roaring inside your head and you find that you don’t mind her vocal stim... you almost feel comfort in it.

The pool beneath you grows into a storming ocean and with the swishing waves and raging raindrops, Victoria grows mad.

Hughie is a good man.

That’s the lie Victoria told herself while they grew closer over the past year. He is a good man, and though she was right to fear his rejection over her less “human” form, he isn’t cruel or deserving of her rage. So, she had pushed the nagging voice at the back of her mind that told her he was dangerous, and she kept living life as it was.

A death rattle echoes against the cold concrete walls as your body starts shaking and seizing inside Victoria’s hold.

When Edgar forced your presence onto her with the pretense that you were “good security”, she almost laughed in his fucking face. Nothing could stop Homelander, so what could you possibly do? A mute, obedient, pet that has never had a thought for herself.

She could handle herself, and she almost told him that, but, perhaps she felt an ounce of pity at your emotionless state. And maybe, as shameful as it is, maybe she saw something in you that reminded her of herself and her time at Red River.

The expansion and retraction of your chest stumbles in irregular patterns as blood bobbles and gurgles inside your lungs. Victoria forces you to your side as she pats your back firmly in an attempt to dislodge the curdling blood cloths.

So, she let you stay. Let you “protect” her and her daughter.

And when the reality of what she had signed herself, and her daughter, up for set in and she got scared, you never judged her. You stuck by her side till the very end.

Your body falls limp, and you stop struggling and for the first time in your life, you feel free.

Hughie was a good man, but you are a good girl.

Your skin grows colder by the second, and in a desperate attempt to reignite the heat, Victoria curls herself around your chilly corpse.

Hughie, together with his tentacle freak friend and the rest of the boy band, are going to die horrible, dragged-out, deaths that will rival the wrath of a thousand gods.

She will make sure of it.

#victoria neuman x reader #victoria neuman #the boys season 4

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littlegrapejuice · 19 days

Text

Saved his life | LS2

Pairing: Logan Sargeant x Reader

Summary: You come to check on Logan after qualifying at the Dutch GP, hoping to lift his spirits.

Author's Note: ok so this literally came to me in a dream😭 logan's replacement was announced on tuesday (still crying about it btw) and istg i woke up wednesday morning after having lived this plot during my sleep

You had been seeking him out after FP3, and were once again seeking him out after qualifying. Logan was nowhere to be found and you worried about the state he mentally was in since his crash. The backlash from his team as well as journalists had blown out of proportion, for they were all focusing on the damages suffered by the car before considering the health of the driver.

Similar to you, Logan's fans were doing their best to support him and wondered about how he was doing. You had seen many comments online about people complaining that neither Williams - as in James Vowles - nor commentators had expressed an interest in the well-being of the driver, only talking about ruining a newly upgraded car - which would be proven illegal later on.

Scouring the paddock, you were now going from garage to garage looking for Logan. Obviously, you had first gone to the Williams one but without any success in finding the American. You hadn't even known at first if he was actually at the track, but a quick shot of him on the TV screen had confirmed you that he was indeed in his garage.

This is why as soon as qualifying ended, you had waited for George to come back to the Mercedes garage so that you could notify him that you were leaving for the time being. You had plans together later tonight, meaning that he didn't mind you doing whatever you wanted until then.

And that's thus how you were still walking around the paddock, praying that it wouldn't take much longer to find Logan.

As you then thought you had seen him from afar, someone obviously had to come up to you and stop you in your tracks. You turned around at the tap on your shoulder and was met with a blonde driver, but not quite the one you would've rather faced.

"Hi Max," you said with a smile.

"Hey, you alright?" He asked both because he was genuinely interested in your answer and because he couldn't help but notice you frantically looking around.

"Yeah, I'm good! Congrats on P2, that's great at your home race." You gave a last glance to the side and decided to temporarily abort your mission as you had unfortunately lost sight of who you thought had been Logan.

"Thanks, I wish I could've gotten pole but I'll get the first place from turn one so that's alright."

"I'll be internally rooting for you, but you know I'll have to stick to my roots and publicly support my team."

"Of course," Max replied. "The Red Bull garage is always open if you ever feel like changing your mind. We also probably have better food than Mercedes." He let out a smile at your laugh before scratching his throat, as if he was thinking about his next words. "Listen, I-"

"Sorry Max," you apologised as you checked your watch and got afraid you would miss logan leaving the track. "I'd love to talk more with you but I was on the way to do something important so please make it quick."

"Yeah, hmm... did you have the chance to visit the city and its surroundings? I was thinking that..." Max hesitated before he saw you nodding at him, silently telling him to continue. "We could grab a drink or some food later on, and I can show you around? Seeing as this is my home country, I'm pretty familiar with it so I could give you a proper tour and you'd see things that you would never see with a regular tour guide and-"

"Sounds lovely yeah!" You felt pretty bad for interrupting him once again, but the clock was really ticking and you were getting more nervous. "I already have something planned for tonight though, so maybe another day?"

"Well, there's only tomorrow left then. After the race?" He suggested with hope in his tone.

"I'll get back to you on that. Depending on who's winning, I might be celebrating someone else you know."

"Of course, but I'm pretty confident that I can score another victory here."

"Great, then that's settled! Super cool to chat with you Max, I'll see you later." You waved at him and quickly started walking again to the direction you had last seen Logan several minutes ago.

You were gone so fast that you hadn't even heard Max telling you that he would text you his request again, as he had sensed that your focus had been on all but your exchange with him. You liked Max to be honest; he was a really sweet guy and could easily match your energy as a fellow yapper. However, he had chosen the worst moment to strike up a conversation with you. Thinking about how you could repay it to him next time you'd see him - probably tomorrow, all your stress was going away as you finally found the person you were looking for.

You stopped close enough to him that he would notice you, but a few metres away so that you had time to catch your breath without it being too obvious that you had been almost running around for him.

As he called out your name, you couldn't help the smile that lit up your face.

"You're good?"

"I am now, thanks. Been searching for you, you know? You're quite hard to find," you told him in complete honesty with a light laugh.

"Really?" Logan was surprised by your words. He hadn't expected anyone to come talk to him today, except for his teammate Alex or a couple drivers texting him for a check up.

"Yeah," you nodded. "I couldn't see you after practice earlier and I thought talking to you face to face was better than a text so yes, I was looking for you."

If you and Logan weren't surrounded by hundreds of people, he would definitely shed a tear at your kindness - not like anyone was actually paying attention to the both of you as you were on the side of the path. He didn't think a headline consisting of F1 Driver Logan Sargeant seen crying while talking with F1 Driver George Russel's long-time friend was a good idea though.

"And you wanted to talk to me about something important?" He wondered.

"That's what I said", you replied. "I wanted to talk to you, about you, I guess."

"That's not super-"

"It is," you immediately interrupted him before he could finish his sentence. You knew what he was about to say and you were definitely not letting him give voice to his thoughts. Seeing as he was still taken aback by your words, you kept going. "You're important, Logan. More than a random chassis, or an engine, or whatever they put in the shit car that they make you drive."

Hearing your own sentence, you were about to apologise for the strong opinion - Logan was driving said car so you didn't know if you were right to comment on it - but the chuckle that came from the American stopped you from doing so. It didn't last long as Logan quickly covered his mouth, thus shutting down the sound, but you suddenly wished you could hear it again.

And not because you're trash talking his team, but because you're, let's say, watching a movie together and a funny scene comes up; or because you're walking around a park and he laughs at your clumsiness when you almost trip on a random rock.

You just wished, right now, that you weren't at the track, in this paddock, with all those cars and people around. You just wanted to be with him, in a quiet place where you could just enjoy each other's presence without having to worry about a team principal that didn't take his driver's needs into account or about journalists that couldn't seem to see the human aspect of a driver behind the suit and helmet.

Your thoughts were however soon interrupted when a hand appeared in front of your face.

"Hello? Earth to whatever planet you're on?" Logan had a smile on his face. He wasn't laughing anymore but he didn't seem annoyed either at your silence. "Did you get lost in your mind?"

"Possibly", you answered with a nervous laugh. "Sorry, won't happen again."

"It's fine, don't worry."

You could see Logan was genuine in his eyes. The way they were being lit up by the sun suddenly made you wonder about what was hidden behind it. They often say that eyes are the mirror of the soul; but for now, you could only see yourself in Logan's.

"Hey Logan," you said after a few seconds of silence. He glanced down at you, which you took as a sign to continue. "Do you wanna hang out with me tonight? I- hmm I have this dinner with George, Lando, Alex, and their girls. And it could be nice of you to join. I mean, if you want to of course, and if you don't have anything planned already but yeah, that'd be cool. I'd like that."

When Logan didn't reply, you started to think that it was over and that your stress was so obvious, and that he wasn't going to accept the offer. But then:

"I'd love to." Your gaze was now filled with hope, until the next words left Logan's mouth. "But I think I need to be alone tonight. It's absolutely not against you or the others, but today hasn't been the best day for me as you obviously know and even though it could lighten up my mood, I'd rather focus on tomorrow's race."

"Oh, hmm... okay, yeah... I totally get it, no problem."

Logan was not dumb; he noticed your immediate change of attitude as you lowered your gaze, so he decided to add on to his explanation:

"It's just a raincheck, you know? I'm not going out tonight, but I'd absolutely be down for another day if we both find the time. Sounds good?"

"Yeah!" You nodded with a smile. "Raincheck, okay, got it."

"Sorry to cut this short, but I gotta go for now." Logan gave you a smile before checking his phone. "I'll get back to you for a hang out, but thanks for taking the time to talk with me. I truly appreciate it."

"It's normal, we're friends so... I wasn't really thinking twice about it."

"Then thank you for that as well. We'll see each other later, right?"

"Of course," you confirmed. "Race's tomorrow so at least then, goodbye for now Logan."

"Bye, take care."

He gave you a quick hug before departing, and next thing you knew, he was gone. You then turned around, ready to exit the paddock and go back to your hotel, so that you could get ready for your dinner tonight with your friends.

.....

"George, hey!" You called out to him as you saw him from afar. "Thanks for waiting, sorry I'm a little late."

"No problem," he replied. "I sent Alex and the girls inside to keep us a table. We're just missing Lando, but I think he'll be here soon."

As if on cue, you had received a text. Thinking it was from the curly haired man, you opened it in front of George before reading the sender and the content of the message.

Hi! Regarding our conversation from earlier, I decided to formally ask if you wanted to grab dinner with me tomorrow night after the race?

A smile unknowingly took place on your face, and George couldn't help but notice it.

"What's got you all happy?" He asked before adding a comment. "You're even blushing so I guess this is not Lando."

"It's no one," you said as you immediately locked your phone before George could look at the screen. "Just a friend I'm supposed to catch up with tomorrow."

"You have friends other than us in the Netherlands right now?" A familiar voice questioned from behind you.

"Lando!" George exclaimed as the last of your group was finally here. "Hey mate. Congrats on pole. Good quali you did there."

"Thanks man." Lando glanced at you while the three of you started walking inside the hotel, towards the restaurant. "So what's this about a friend of yours?"

"Drop it Lando," you replied, annoyed - although you could truly never be annoyed with him. "I'll tell you all about it when it's over if you still wanna know after the weekend."

"Of course I will! I'll even bring that up in the groupchat so you'll have to tell this wonderful and absolutely not suspicious story to everyone," Lando laughed as he nudged your side.

Thankfully, neither George nor Lando had brought up the topic with the others, even though they were still curious on what you were hiding. You were glad that they didn't because how could you even explain to them that you would be going out to dinner with a fellow driver? You honestly didn't think they would mind, but you also didn't want them to go and bother said driver when you knew that the paddock's walls had ears everywhere.

Hoping that it would be fine to reply to the text later, you had therefore waited until you were back in your hotel room to agree to the offer. Tonight's dinner had been amazing and you were always happy to spend time with your friends whom you didn't see much, but tomorrow's would be something even more special as it would actually be your first time hanging out one on one with the driver you were maybe fancying.

Before forgetting, you also decided to notify your friends of your plans - omitting the driver aspect of the 'friend' you would be seeing after the race - so that they wouldn't be surprised to not see you attend any celebration. Of course you would try and spend some time with the winner if he was part of your friend group, but at least you were in the clear to not go party all night with them.

.....

And you had never once regretted not attending the party that had celebrated Lando's win at the Dutch Grand Prix. He had told you that day after the race that you would have a myriad of other chances to attend another one as he was planning on winning more and more often - which he did.

Tonight's party, however, would be in your honour. As well as Logan's. And you couldn't see yourself anywhere else than here, in front of him. You truly didn't think you would one day end up in this situation, and neither did he. Logan hadn't really expected to experience such an event in his life, but he eventually did, all thanks to you.

You had saved his life. That day, when you reached out to him after qualifying, was unknowingly a turning point in his life. He had been at his lowest. He had known what would certainly happen following the Grand Prix; he had been expecting to be let go after the disastrous performances he was giving.

Knowing didn't make it less painful though.

He did get dropped by his team, Williams, which you cursed for as long as you could and still did from time to time. And even if Logan had achieved being a Formula One driver - which no one could ever take away from him, he had still felt like he was worthless after it happened.

He hadn't known how to process the sudden end of his short time on the grid and felt lost for a while, wondering about what would define him as a person now that the dream he'd had since he was a child was over.

But you had made him believe that it wasn't the end of the world and that something else was waiting for him. He could've ended it all, but you showed him a glimmer of hope and he chose to keep going, see what else was in store for him. He still had a future. And he had been right to trust you, as he was now here, facing you and about to be making you his. Only two words left to say before doing so.

'Thank you', he mouthed to you before the long-awaited sentence was to be heard out loud. "I do", he then confirmed without tearing his gaze away from your face.

..........

Okayyyy so this it lol

Hope y'all liked it🫶🏻 this was my 1st time ever writing for a driver since i got into motorsports and I feel really happy w it!! Thanks to my brain for making me dream ab logan, i think it kinda helps me cope regarding him not being the grid anymore (i miss him sm chat)

Idk when I'll write again for a driver if i ever do so, but don't hesitate to give feedback on this so that ik how to approach a future work🤍

#logan sargeant #logan sargeant x reader #f1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #logan sargeant x you #f1 x you #formula 1 x you #ls2 #ls2 x reader #ls2 x you

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dreaminginpastels · 9 months

Note

Wow you’re writing is great! If you’re not busy, would you do a Druig request where he’s in love with his fellow Eternal who’s generally neutral in family fights but one Druig manages to bother her enough that he feels guilty and asks for forgiveness because he can handle everyone else being mad at him but not her? Thank you in advance!

wounding me softly

pairing: druig x fem!eternal!reader

summary: in which druig is increasingly distracted in battle and reader has had enough.

warnings: reader says some slightly not very nice things to druig, sliiiightest angst, brief intimacy

reader pronouns: she/her (by request)

word count: 2.1k

*✧ eternals masterlist | main masterlist | ask ✧*

Druig was getting on your last nerve. Literally.

Arishem had gifted you the ability to heal others, but what you hadn’t told the rest of the Eternals was that this “ability” came with a catch - each time, you had to absorb the injury in order to heal it. Early on in your inception, you’d decided it was some punishment, for what you had no clue, but as you became an integral part of the Eternals and learned from each of them, you’d come to see it as your own private gift - a way to develop untapped empathy and care for others. It made you the beautiful person you were.

Right now, however, Druig was testing your patience. The two of you had spent much time together during the early part of your stay in Babylon, and had grown close enough that Druig had started showboating in battles, leading the two of you to keep a tally of Deviants slain and owing each other various snacks after battle depending on who won. You were happy for the first time in a long, long time. You had even let yourself wonder if there might be more on the horizon between you. Over the last week, however, something had changed. Druig was quieter, withdrawn. You’d find him lost in his thoughts, and, most troublesome was the fact that he seemed to have lost his focus in battle. It was taking its toll.

It had started with slight delays, Druig got where he needed to be but always just a tad too late. At first, you were concerned, checking in on him even though he’d just brush you off. But then you’d begun to get frustrated with the brooding eternal. The battles were becoming more frequent, and as the demand on your abilities grew, so too it seemed did Druig’s wandering mind.

…

Drained and exhausted, you slumped against a wall as Ikaris blasted a Deviant ahead of you on your route to a wounded Kingo.

“Kingo, again?” you sighed as your hands pressed on his abdomen. You felt the deep gash slowly and agonisingly transferring to your own side.

He winced, “It’s not my fault, y/n, I swear-”

“They’re just targeting the weakest link.” Ikaris stated, matter-of-factly.

Kingo scoffed. “Okay, rude.”

Ikaris smirked before responding to Sersi’s summon.

Kingo turned to you, “But seriously, y/n, if Druig showed up every once and a while, maybe these damn Deviants would go down easier.”

You groaned in frustration at the same moment that Kingo sighed in relief. The injury had finished absorbing, but you were severely lightheaded and could barely move. Druig was going to get more than an earful when you got back.

“You’re an angel, y/n.” Kingo announced as he brushed your hair out of your face. “Seriously, I appreciate you so much.”

You grimaced, trying to hide the immense pain you were in. “T-thanks Kingo. Be careful out there, okay?”

He nodded before saluting you. “I won’t let you down, boss.”

…

“Rock, paper, scissors for the last twinkie?”

Druig brushed up against your shoulder playfully in the common space of the Domo, earning him a glare from you, and a chuckle out of Kingo.

“Woah,” Druig began, gesturing to your glare with his twinkie in hand, “Careful with that thing, you could seriously hurt someone!”

You scoffed and walked away, feeling Druig’s confused gaze following your every step. As you walked into your room, you could hear his voice echoing through the walls of the Domo. “Was it something I said?”

“You, my friend, are royally screwed.” Kingo replied, stifling a chuckle.

…

A week had passed since Kingo’s major injury, and you hadn’t spoken a single word to Druig. You knew that the silent treatment was probably a bit immature for an eternal being, but frankly, you couldn’t care less. Being unfocused in battle was one thing, but vanishing when your family needs you the most? That you couldn’t condone.

You knew he’d have an excuse, and part of you was desperate to hear it. You missed him. Of course you did. Your love for him only made your resentment more torturous.

Carefully positioning your still-recovering body against the wall in the meeting room, you watched as the other Eternals filed in with bated breath, wondering how much longer you could keep your secret.

…

Druig’s heart rate spiked as Ajak concluded their meeting, the blood coursing through his veins as he prepared for what he was about to do. He hated confrontation as much as the next person, although the next person was Ikaris...

“Alright, if no one has anything further they wish to present, you’re all dismissed.”

“Actually, Ajak,” Druig began, taking in the eye-rolls from his fellow Eternals as his voice filled the room. “I have something I’d like to discuss.”

Ajak’s patient, loving eyes wandered his face like a warning. “Yes, Druig?”

“Y/n’s been giving me the silent treatment lately, and I’d like to get to the bottom of it.”

“Oh here we go…” muttered Kingo as his eyes met Sprite’s, drawn to the impending drama like a car crash he couldn't tear his eyes from.

“It pains me to bring it up," Druig continued, glaring briefly at Kingo, "but seeing as the Deviants are getting more frequent, I figure we need to gel as a unit, and I don’t feel that we’re doing that.”

“HA,” A voice stirred from the shadowed corner of the meeting room. “You can talk.”

As you emerged from the shadows into the light of the meeting space, Druig took in your appearance - your heavy breathing, the dark bags under your bloodshot eyes, how pale you were. He instinctively moved towards you, resting a featherlight hand on your shoulder. His heart shattered as you winced and pulled away from his usually welcome touch.

“Y/n, you look like crap! What the hell happened?” Then, softly in your ear, “Are you okay?”

Druig felt you tremble the second before you shoved him away from you. “Of course I do! While you’ve been off doing Arishem knows what, we’ve been protecting the humans, and each other, from Deviants. Who, as you so kindly reminded us, are getting more dangerous and more frequent. This is the time that we can’t afford slip-ups, and you’re off with the fairies!”

Druig’s head fell in shame. You hated conflict, least of all with him, and he had driven you to this. He knew it was entirely his fault - he had been distracted lately, and you deserved to know why. “Y/n, I-”

“You’re careless! And you don’t think about anyone but yourself. We can’t afford that, Druig. We’re a team. A family. Act like it.”

He shrunk into himself, every trace of his usual swagger and confidence shattered like the fragile heart he held within. You were right. He had done this to you, left you exhausted and pained - a shell of yourself. The one person he swore he’d never hurt. He mustered the only words he could, hoping they were at least a bandage over your weak frame. At least enough until he could hold you again. “I’m sorry.”

With a deep sigh, he watched as you limped out of the room - step by pained step. Druig looked at the faces of the other Eternals, taking in their disappointment with panicked eyes before rushing out of the room to follow you.

…

“Y/n, wait!”

You groaned as he approached. Every noise you made splintered Druig’s heart a little more. He needed to make this right. Now.

“What, you couldn’t even let me have a badass exit? You’re unbelievable.” You mustered a chuckle to lighten the mood, but Druig saw how it pained you. How you shuddered with each breath.

“Oh my darlin’, you’re not okay.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Obviously, Druig. But great to know you weren’t even listening to my speech-”

“No, I can see it - something’s really wrong.” He lifted an arm above yours and studied your eyes carefully for permission before gently lifting your arm over his shoulder. “Let’s get you to lay down, we can talk when you’re comfortable.”

You winced as Druig lifted your arm, but hummed gratefully at his concern, lifting his hopes ever so slightly that things might just be okay. That he might win his best friend back, if he could muster the courage to be sincere enough.

Druig guided you to your room, and lay you gently on your bed, relishing in the comfortable sigh that emerged from your lips. You looked up at him, guarded but gentle. “Thank you, Druig.”

“You’re welcome, my darlin’.” He softened as he took you in. Then, he eyed your bed. “Mind if I lay with you?”

You hesitated for a moment before nodding your permission.

The silence that followed was full of unspoken emotions. Of feelings too large for the room, but deep enough to create a chasm between you. Until your voice echoed through the dark.

“What’s been going on with you lately? You’re a formidable warrior, unrelenting in battle. What could possibly have you distracted enough that you’d ignore Kingo’s calls for aid?”

Druig sighed. “Look, y/n. It seems we’ve both been keeping secrets. I’ll tell you mine if you promise to tell me yours?”

You eyed his outstretched pinky. “I cannot believe you’re making me pinky swear like our inception was yesterday.”

He laughed gently, “You know you love it.”

Rolling your eyes, you took his pinky in yours. “Fine, pinky swear.”

While your pinkies were still entwined, Druig quickly added, “but you go first!” before letting go.

“You are an actual child, Druig.”

“And you have a secret to tell me…” he replied in a sing-song voice.

The mood was instantly quashed by your serious tone. “I…”

Carefully, Druig took your hand in his. “You know you can tell me anything, my darlin’, I’m not going anywhere.”

You took a deep breath as you looked up at him, meeting his concerned irises.

“My abilities come with a cost. A condition. I can’t heal anyone without taking on their pain first.” Druig searched your eyes, horrified by your words and connecting the dots as you continued, “So, each time I’ve healed the others in battle recently…”

“...you’ve had to take on their injuries yourself and heal from them.” He finished for you.

You nodded sombrely. “Each, and every one. Individually.”

“Oh, my beautiful, beautiful, y/n. Why didn’t you tell us?” Druig looked down sheepishly at your entwined hands before quietly adding, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Your voice was smaller than Druig had ever heard it as you replied, laced with the worries and insecurities you had held inside for an eternity. “I…I didn’t want to burden anyone, to let anyone down, and…I didn’t want you to look down on me for being the only Eternal whose powers are conditional. I was ashamed for a really long time.”

“I could never look down on you, y/n.” Druig began, turning to face you as he gently cupped your cheek and stared into your eyes. “I…I love you.”

Your eyes widened, “You…you do?”

He chuckled sadly, “Of course I do, you beautiful, oblivious fool. I’ve loved you forever.” Druig looked down bashfully before muttering under his breath. “That’s uh, that’s actually why I’ve been so distracted lately.”

“Wait, WHAT?”

“I know, I know, it’s so dumb. I just, I’ve been wanting to ask you if you would ever consider seeing me as more than just the brooding Eternal that boasts in battle for snacks because he’s too shy to ask the girl he loves to be his. I never thought you would ever see me as more and I…I would daydream about us in battle, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. About us. Then, last week I saw these flowers - daisies, I- I know they’re your favourite - when this Deviant shoved me to the ground deep in the forest and I thought they would be perfect for some grand romantic gesture and then I heard about Kingo and- I’m so sorry y/n, I ruined everything, I hurt you, and-”

Druig’s panicked rambling faded into nothingness the second he felt your lips graze his. Gentle, shy at first, and then more deeply, with a passion that he felt at his core. He moaned against your lips, “Y-y/n, I-”

“That is somehow equally the sweetest and dumbest thing I’ve ever heard come out of that beautiful-” kiss, “-beautiful-” kiss, “-mouth.”

With a lovestruck gaze, and an empty mind, Druig’s eyes moved from your lips to your eyes as he took in the sight before him. “Y-you forgive me?”

You smiled then, cupping his face gently before placing another tentative kiss on his waiting lips. “I’ll do you one better. I love you, you sweet, idiotic Eternal. I’d be honoured to be yours.”

The two of you lay there in contented silence, falling asleep entwined in each other's embrace, knowing that everything would be okay. Knowing that you had each other. ...

a/n: hi lovely, i’m so very sorry for how long it’s taken me to get around to this request. it was my last druig request for AGES and I was just so nervous that if I wrote my last druig request I wouldn't get any more, so I held onto this baby like my life depended on it. that being said, I tweaked the request a little bit and I ADORED writing this. I hope that it’s everything that you wanted it to be, and please please feel free to request for baby boy again because I love writing for him SO MUCH 🤍

i’m so excited to get back into writing again, i finally finished my honours degree and I have so much creativity it’s not even funny - hoping to really smash out a bunch of your requests and create a writing schedule so i can keep it up because i miss and love writing for you all! thank you so much for your patience and support, you mean the world to me and i’m thankful for you every day

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happy74827 · 11 months

Text

No Ordinary Life

[Sam Riordan x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: The group had almost ran out of options on what to do with Sam, but Andre had decided there was still one more option to explore. And that option, was you. (GIF credits: @heronamedhawks)

WC: 1,179

Category: Slight Fluff, Slight Angst

We don’t know much about Sam as of right now, but I do know I would literally die for this boy. He and Emma really deserve the world, and they fr better have their happy ending (which seems impossible given the universe they live in, but one can hope). This definitely deserves a part 2, depending how well it goes, but for now enjoy the purity that is Sam.

Edit(2023): Hey I finally made the part 2, check it out here

『••✎••』

As Sam walked down the bustling halls of Godolkin, he couldn't help but feel like an outsider. All around him, kids with extraordinary powers, kids like him, were chatting, laughing, and walking to their classes. They were able to use their gifts freely and openly, and they were respected by others for it, but Sam didn't have that luxury. Honestly, he couldn’t remember a time that he did.

All he remembered was the woods, his brother, and the constant pain of being hunted.

His hand unconsciously traveled to top of his head, pulling the hoodie that Emma had lent over to him farther over his face as he tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible. It wasn't easy when the hallway was completely crowded by nosy students, but he did his best. That’s all he could really do.

Emma and Marie (as he found her name to be) were by his side, protecting him for the skewing eyes of others. For the most part it worked, except it drawn more attention to her due to that odd system that Emma had acknowledged him about. A rating, whatever that was.

It was cool to know that his brother had been ranked number one, though.

If Luke was still… No, don’t think about it, Sam.

He shook his head, ridding himself of that train of thought. There was no point in dwelling on the past, and thinking about his brother wouldn’t change anything. He was gone, and Sam was left alone.

His thoughts were interrupted by Jordan, who he was still slightly confused about. He? She? They? They seemed to have been good friends with his brother and they were friendly enough, so Sam didn’t really question the matter too much.

Plus, he kinda enjoyed the subtle sarcasm that Jordan would once in a while use. It made him feel like a kid back in school. So for that, Sam was thankful.

“Dude, this has got to be the stupidest thing we’ve ever done,” Jordan had said, turning to the guy walking besides them… Andre. Sam didn’t know what to make of him, or anyone really. He had always been so closed off from other people, that now it was almost a bit overwhelming.

But at least he had Emma, so he didn't have to worry about the social aspect too much.

Andre gave Jordan a sideways look, a small smirk on his face. He seemed pretty chill too.

“Listen, I don’t like this anymore than you do, Jordan,” Andre stated, shoving his hands in his pockets. “But with everything happening, and with Cate… this is our best option.”

“Yes, let’s bring the kid with a bounty over his head into the place where they’re all going to be looking for him. Great idea, Andre. Seriously, how did I not think of it first. Soooo smart of you, dude. Good job. I'm so glad we're friends, really I am.”

Jordan rolled their eyes, and Andre just looked away in annoyance. Then, to Sam’s dismay, an awkward silence fell over the group. Once again, Sam was struck by just how different his life was now. It was like he was suddenly thrown into another world, and he had no idea how to function in it. He was so far out of his comfort zone that he couldn’t even see the zone.

Sam glanced over to Emma, and saw her smiling encouragingly at him. He tried his best to return the gesture, but he felt like his face muscles were going to fall off if he forced them any longer.

After what seemed like hours, but really only a couple minutes, Andre halted in front of a random dorm room door, and turned to face the group. He sighed, his face set into a look of grim determination. Then, he knocked.

Three times, Sam counted. Three knocks.

The door opened almost immediately after, and the man who answered had to be the most handsome human being Sam had ever seen. He had short black hair, a sharp jaw, and a dazzling smile. It was actually kind of intimidating.

“Whadda’ want?” the man asked, his voice a rich baritone. Sam didn't know why, but it felt like the man was judging him. His eyes scanned over the group, lingering on Sam for just a second, before returning back to Andre.

Andre cleared his throat, a bit nervously, but he didn’t get a chance to speak as Jordan scoffed, shoving past the man and into the room. Emma followed, giving the man an apologetic look as she did. And thus, everyone followed, leaving the man alone and bewildered in the doorway.

Once everyone was settled inside, the man shut the door and leaned against it, crossing his arms over his chest. He glared at Andre, his eyes burning holes through his head, but Sam didn’t pay any attention towards him anymore. All his eyes were on the strange girl in front of him, you.

You were sitting on the floor, legs crossed and a bored expression on your face. Your eyes were half lidded, and you seemed to be lost in your own little world. Andre had mentioned you, a little. Said that you were the person he had called earlier, that you would help them figure out what to do with Sam, and that you knew and could a lot of stuff. But he had never told them how gorgeous you were.

Your hair was down, and looked so soft that Sam just wanted to touch it, run his fingers through it, and feel the texture. You had a cute little button nose, and a round, chubby face that was just too adorable. And your eyes were so expressive, a mixture of colors that swirled and shone and sparkled in the light.

Andre had called your attention and you snapped out of it, blinking a few times before glancing up at him. It was then that you noticed the others, and you stared at them all, wide eyed and open mouthed, but that was quickly replaced with a smile.

“Hi, Andre! Wow, you must be Jordan… Marie… and Emma? Right? Oh, and you must be the kid Andre talked about, oh my gosh. It's so nice to finally meet you all. Sorry I didn’t say anything when you came in, I was just finishing up this thing for Kota. Oh, Kota! You're still here… hi. Wait, why are you all here? You weren’t supposed to be here until 2:00, and it's only-”

You looked down at the watch on your wrist, your eyes widening even more when you realized the time. You had been talking so fast that no one had been able to get a word in edgewise, but you had managed to finish what you had to say, and it was all so rushed that it was hard to keep up.

The only thing Sam could focus on was how despite all of that rambling and mumbling, you were still keeping that bright smile that never seemed to falter. A truly happy supe? He never thought it would exist. Even Emma, as sweet and pretty as she was, tended to falsify the smiles she had. Sam only saw her real one about three times. He cherished them, of course. Every single one.

You stood up, brushing yourself off and fixing your clothes, and walked over to them. Your hand was outstretched, and your smile was radiant. Sam could practically feel the happiness radiating off of you.

You looked so innocent, so sweet and pure. He could hardly believe that you were a supe, but the fact that they were all standing here said otherwise. You had power, and you knew how to use it.

Jordan and Marie seemed to have recovered from their daze, and the two shook your hand after Andre. Marie had even introduced herself, and it ended with you in giggles, telling her that you already had known her name.

Emma was next, and she had taken your hand immediately and shook it.

Then it was just him that was left.

He stood frozen, staring down at your outstretched hand. He could feel all the eyes in the room on him, and he just knew that his hood was starting to slip.

His instincts were yelling at him, screaming at him to run. To get out of there and stay far, far away from you. From everyone.

But he couldn’t.

So, instead of fleeing, he slowly, cautiously took your hand in his. It was small, warm, and fit perfectly.

You smiled again but this time it was strictly for him, because of him, and it made his heart beat just a bit faster.

He didn’t even realize it until your smile has widened, but he had pulled down his hood, letting you see his face. He didn't understand why he did, and a part of him wanted to pull the fabric right back over his face, but it was too late now.

The damage had been done.

Sam didn’t have a chance to scrape off the dried blood off his cheeks, another result of an accidental outburst, and he could feel your eyes rake over his face, taking in every single detail.

But it wasn’t judgmental, or critical.

No, there was something else in those swirling eyes of yours, and it was then that he noticed the little flecks of gold hidden in the sea of color.

Sam was a bit embarrassed, to say the least, and he tried to pull his hand away but your grip only tightened, and he didn't have the strength to resist. He felt your hand go up his arm, unraveling the hoodie that clung to him like a second skin.

The others didn’t seem to do anything as you pulled the material above his elbow.

Your eyes roamed over the scar that stretched across his forearm, and he knew what was coming before the words even left your mouth.

Sam couldn’t bring himself to look at you as you asked the dreaded question, and his eyes were glued to the floor.

It was Emma who answered, her voice barely a whisper.

Sam despised the pity in your tone. The last thing he wanted was to be pitied. He didn't need or want anyone's pity. He was fine. Everything was fine.

The silence shattered as you took a sharp breath, but Sam couldn't bring himself to look at you. Not when he knew the look of pity in your eyes.

You released his arm, the hoodie dropping to the ground, but Sam didn't even register it. He stood there, frozen, as you slowly reached out your hand towards his face.

"Before I do anything, I want to warn you so it doesn't scare you. Is that okay with you? I just... I want to make sure you're alright. But if you don't want me to touch you, I won't. I'll respect your boundaries. Just tell me, okay?"

Sam blinked, his head tilting upwards, his eyes wide with surprise. There was no pity in your eyes. No negativity or degradation. Only a gentle concern and kindness that he had only experienced in these past few days.

Your touch was tender, and he felt a warmth spread across his face. He couldn't bring himself to deny you. So he nodded, and a small smile appeared on your face. It was still a smile, but a different kind. One he had never seen from you before. And once again, that smile was meant just for him.

Suddenly, the lights in the room dimmed, capturing Sam's attention. He hadn't noticed before, but the entire room was filled with interconnected lights, forming a grid-like pattern. They began to glow, pulsating and shifting with each passing moment. The light danced across the walls, creating mesmerizing shapes.

Sam was captivated by the whole process. And then, the lights suddenly stopped, freezing in place. Sam expected them to return to their normal brightness, but they grew brighter and brighter. It was then that he noticed your hands. They were no longer touching him, but rather, they hovered above him, palms facing his face. A peculiar expression settled on your face.

Sam didn't know what it meant, but he didn't have time to wonder because, in an instant, your hands transformed into light. It wasn't like beams shooting out of your palms, but rather, golden particles that flowed around your body and traveled along the lights, intensifying their brightness. Patterns began to form and move.

Sam watched in awe as the shapes transformed into pictures and scenes. The colors melted and shifted together. Light filled the room, washing away the world around him, leaving only the vibrant colors, the images, and your face.

Your face, so close to his. The smile still adorned your lips, and your eyes shone like stars, the brightest things in the room. Sam could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Reluctantly, he admitted that the light was beautiful, just like you.

It was the most extraordinary sight he had ever witnessed. It was as if the sun had exploded, its light spreading across the room. The colors danced along the walls, forming vivid images. Sam saw a field, a house, a family. He saw his old friends. He saw him. His brother, Luke.

Sam's face crumpled, and a sob escaped his throat. Tears blurred his vision, but they were absorbed by the light, vanishing as soon as they fell. You remained a silent observer, watching over him as the colors gradually faded, and the world returned.

The room was as bright as before, but everything was the same. Sam could still see the concern and worry etched on your face. You reached up to wipe away his tears, but this time he flinched back, and the contact never happened. Your hands fell to your sides.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and your lips trembled, trying to hold back your emotions. But a tear escaped, rolling down your cheek. Andre cleared his throat, breaking the spell. Both you and Sam turned to face the others.

They were all watching, expressions of shock and confusion on their faces, except for Jordan, who wore a mask of indifference.

Andre and Emma stared at you, mouths agape, while Sam saw the tears in your eyes, the fear evident on your face.

Of what, he couldn’t tell. As of right now, there were so many things you could be scared of. With The Woods, being the thing that contains most of it all, It was hard to pinpoint one specific reason.

Then, just like before, Andre's voice cracked as he decided to interrupt Sam’s thoughts.

"What the hell was that?"

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silkjade-archived · 1 year

Text

alhaitham x mermaid! reader (5) / epilogue

⤀ warnings: fem!reader, no pronouns mentioned, reader has hair long enough to be pinned, kissing ! a/n: recommended to read the previous parts first, since this is a direct continuation. tiny reference to a sumeru hidden quest prev ﾉ series masterlist ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓇼

For the first time in months, alhaitham returns to the little cove out by the waters of port ormos. He tosses a chunk of crystal ore, testing the weight—once, twice—before catching it again in the palm of his hand. It skips thrice before sinking below the surface, and internally, he's quite pleased with this exceptional display of muscle memory.

The cyan stone sinks, further and further down into the darkness of the midnight sea, until it lands softly into the palms of your hands, weightless. Despite the long pause in your correspondence, you've never forgotten how the waves shift in response to his disturbance. So when you had sensed that familiar movement rippling through the water, you swam towards the source, smiling because you knew.

“Drown anyone in my absence?”

“No, but that can change depending on what you’ve brought for me today.”

Emerging from the shallows, you sit yourself atop a nearby rock. The water droplets clinging to your skin and tail catch like crystals in the moonlight, and alhaitham has half a mind to pinch himself and confirm that you’re neither a dream, nor another desert mirage.

“Zaytun peaches. Your favorite,” he begins, “and golden roses from aaru village.”

You brush the tip of your finger along the flower’s velvet petals, so brilliantly gold, as if he’d stolen the sun right out of the sky.

“The desert was too harsh an environment for sumeru roses to grow, so an amurta researcher set about cultivating one that could.”

Voice softening, alhaitham continues as his hands unfurl to reveal the hairpin he had once gifted you. “As promised…”

You can feel the lingering warmth of his touch on the metal as you wrap delicate fingers around the piece, re-admiring the florid craftsmanship. It's still as beautiful as you remember, maybe even more so, considering how you've longed for this moment to come.

You brush your thumb over the mysterious symbols carved on the centermost gem, pulsing with a soft ember's glow.

“It’s a protective rune I discovered in the desert. As long as you wear it, you won’t have to worry about needing to return to the sea.”

Perhaps that would explain why it somehow feels sturdier. Or why the nagadus emeralds appear to shine brighter, and more vibrant. You purse your lips in an attempt to quell the thrumming in your chest. He really did it. He really found a solution to something so seemingly impossible.

Alhaitham clears his throat, snapping you from your thoughts. "May I...?"

Nodding, you turn around as he takes the accessory, shifting his fingers through your hair before pinning it in place, a vast improvement from his very first attempt.

"Well, how does it look?"

"It’s beautiful on you.”

Heat blooms in your cheeks, taken aback my his forwardness. His reply hadn’t missed a single beat, answering as if he’d stated a fact rather than an opinion. Sure, you had expected some sort of witty remark tossed into his words, but rarely did he ever outright compliment you so directly.

Turning your head, you successfully avert your gaze; it's the only way you know how to deal with this sudden bout of bashfulness, but his fingers brush your chin, and you follow as he leads you back to him. Alhaitham closes a large hand over your own—his grip steady like his heartbeat, firm like his resolve.

Teal eyes bore into yours, shifting only to linger on your lips for far longer than he should've. How he longs for another taste... The faint glow of a blush dusts across his cheeks and onto the tips of his ears. He must pull himself together before his mind has the chance to stray further.

“Stay with me,” he murmurs, leaning in.

Your breaths mingle in the little space between your face and his, but you pull away at the last minute—just the slightest bit—so that his lips catch the air instead.

“Why should I?”

Alhaitham straightens, taking in your look of feigned apathy, clearly given away by that playful layer of expectancy brocaded in your expression. Of course you want to hear him say it; he's made you wait long enough.

The corners of his mouth lift into that phantom of a smile, one you’ve come to adore so much: small and sly, daring and charming in a way unique only to him.

“Because I love you.”

“And I’m yours, if you’ll still have me,” he adds, confidence unwavering.

There's no hiding the delight and relief that breaks across your features. Your heart soars, and the single breath exhaled during this time-frozen lull, lifts it to impossible heights. Finally.

You don't shy away this time when he comes in to kiss you, grinning at how right it feels. His hands grab at your waist, pulling you closer, eager to deepen the kiss. He's missed you, missed your touch, and of how you taste so sweet, like nectar from the garden of the gods... but you break away.

"Can you say it again?" Your soft laughter rings through the air, and alhaitham rolls his eyes, indulging you nonetheless.

"I love you," he repeats, stealing another kiss in the process. And then once more, for good measure, during the quick moment of air between his barrage of kisses, interrupted only by your yelp of surprise, as he scoops you up into his arms.

“Well?” He looks at you expectantly, a brow raised and a smirk dancing on his lips. You giggle as your hand curves along the side of his face, guiding his mouth to yours once again.

“I love you too, haitham.”

a/n2: the golden rose is actually a reference to a hidden quest in aaru village! i thought it was a cool metaphor hehe ^^ it’s a super easy quest chain + u get a pretty teapot decoration at the end :D

a/n3: and that’s a wrap ! i hope you’ve enjoyed this lil series as much as i’ve enjoyed writing it hehe tbh i was a bit nervous since the last part flopped, but in the end it doesn’t rlly matter ^^;; cus i read every single one of your comments / rb tags and i rlly appreciate them all so so much (இ﹏இ`｡) && while this is the end of this story, my ask is always open for more brainrots ‘n whatnot ! who knows i may write xtras lol ANYWAYS tysm for reading & sticking around ‘til the end ♡

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adragonprinceswhore · 3 months

Text

The Way I Feel Under Your Command

Chapter II: Magic Between You and I Prev

Aemond Targaryen x Reader (she/her pronouns)

Summary: Aemond stays true to his promise, and hates himself for it. Our dance instructor does the best with what she's given, even if that is Westeros' most off-putting and pretentious Valyrian.

Warnings: 18+, she/her pronouns, Aemond is a condescending a-hole (but you already knew that), Aegon slander, sexual tension, dry humping, thigh riding, blue balls but make it AFAB

A/N: Chapter one and two are basically a deep-dive into the psyche of Aemond in this modern setting, but I promise some dirty dancing at the end of this chapter 🕺🏼 and just imagine how much better the smutty, sexy stuff will hit when we’ve built their dynamic 😙 bear with me! Enjoy!

Aemond would never admit to his brother that his goading got to him.

He wouldn’t even fully admit it to himself. How different would his life be if he hadn’t allowed his temper to be dependent on Aegon? If he didn’t feel like being berated by his older brother sent him back to when they were kids and he’d do anything to impress him? To make him see him as a brother, an equal, and not a plaything?

He shakes his head to kick the thought away.

His head’s still pounding, just as it had an hour ago when he woke. Noticing how strange his tongue feels in his mouth, he realises that he’s thirstier than he’d been in a long time.

Fucking Aegon.

He’d never be here, walking towards the boathouse, if not for his brother dragging him to that party yesterday and force-feeding him alcohol.

Pushing him out of his comfort zone.

Making him feel less than.

As always.

There were several reasons Aemond didn’t like to get drunk.

One was the gradual loss of control he felt as the alcohol made his usually sharp mind slow down.

Another was his temper; something he’d disciplined himself to control after years of practice.

As a child, he’d been the kind to cry when his brother and nephews ‘jokes’ got to him, or when he scored low on a dressage test.

Wearing his frustrations on the outside only taught him how awful being looked at with pity can be. That specific type of vulnerability and shame you feel when someone looks at you and thinks: “poor thing”.

Therefore, he’s grown used to being in control of himself; of his moods and urges.

Until he’s drunk.

He spots her where she said she’d be, right next to the boathouse, stretching her legs. She’s definitely in better shape than him; hardly appearing different from yesterday evening.

Locking eyes with her, she seems surprised to see him.

Did she expect me not to come?

To Aemond’s recollection, she’d practically begged for a dance partner. He had said yes, mostly due to his intoxicated state, but also because of Aegon’s insults.

She smiles as he comes closer, “How we feeling today?”

“Fine”

“Okay”, her smile falters at his short, unfriendly answer,

“Let’s get started then”

Her routine is simple; an original piece she’d put together to showcase her greatest strengths as a dancer,

“Despite only making the reserve list”, she jokes, but the forced smile doesn’t reach her eyes.

She gives him a quick run-through of it; going into detail about the meaning behind her dance, how she got started, why she chose the movements she did.

Aemond barely listens.

His head is throbbing, pain elevated by the sharp sting erratically stabbing the nerves behind his left eye. His features don’t change as he half-heartedly listens to what she says, occasionally nodding.

Whatever, can’t be that hard.

“You’re posture is great”, she compliments him, eyes scanning him critically, “try to relax your shoulders a bit more”

He does as he’s told, yet the tension in his back doesn’t fully ease. He can’t truly shake his internal stiffness; he’s always on alert.

She continues to guide him, freely grabbing his hands to place them on her body, causing him to briefly recoil at the sudden heat of her skin.

How long has it been since someone touched me like this?

“I think we can finish here for today. Great work!”

Her hand is still holding onto his as she gives him an approving smile. There’s something different about how she looks at him now; she seems more relaxed, like they’re familiar with each other.

“I really appreciate you doing this for me”

Aemond feels his cheeks heat up. His mouth is drier and palm, still in her grip, damper.

He jerks away from her, causing her hand to slip out of his. His head is still pounding furiously, and without a word, he turns around to go back to the Targaryen villa.

Every corner of Red Lake Resort is carefully curated.

It may not seem like it; in the way the vibrant flowers appear to grow widely on the sides of the houses, stretching all the way up to the pillar-enclosed balconies reminiscent of a time when the castle ruins, now hosting the elite of Westeros each summer, used to host House Crane of the Reach. Still, every flower, every branch, every leaf, was there for a reason; for the ‘Monet-esque’ beauty created by the slight chaos of stoney ruins, colourful greenery, and sporadic ponds scattered between the large buildings.

There is an understanding that, at Red Lake, residents can forget the stressors of their everyday lives. For the esteemed guests 'comfortable’ enough to afford a stay there, such stressors might include running an enterprise, hosting a charity gala, or berating an underpaid maid for not polishing the silver thoroughly enough.

It was a place where ‘the customer is always right’ got hammered into the staff with such ferocity that they could almost feel the nails of submission penetrate their skulls.

The perfect place for those who did not wish for the hierarchy they sat at the top of in their everyday lives to sway even in the slightest.

A comfortable place for the current head of Targaryen Holdings to spend sparse time with his family.

Ever a man of comfort, Viserys Targaryen’s distaste for change means that the Targaryen-Hightowers always stay in the same villa, big enough to host not only the family but any guests they may invite.

Aemond always stays in the same room, located at the end of the hallway of the second floor, tucked in a corner. He had chosen that exact one since it was the only room dark enough for him to comfortably hide in when his head hurt from an old eye injury he had since childhood, and one of the privileges of being the ‘broken’ child was that he got first pick of trivial things such as room assignment.

Aegon and Daeron share the room next to his, and Helaena’s is next to theirs.

As an anxious child, the only downside of his secluded corner had been the nights he woke up in cold sweat, mind plagued with night terrors and head pounding. Then, the short distance walking past his siblings' rooms to his mother’s felt colossal.

Now he revelled in the privacy, preferring to stay in and get lost in his thoughts as often as possible. Spending time with his family was just too draining.

Yet for some reason, today he craves distraction from his pounding head and strange inner sensation. And if there’s something that can pull him out of his thoughts, often by force, it’s his family.

Most times when he sought a distraction, he’d bury his head in work, preferring to stay ever productive.

He knows that there’s always something that needs to be done; some nearly disastrous hypothetical fire threatening to burn the Targaryen empire down to ashes.

That’s one of the reasons why Viserys insists on staying in the same villa each year; the large office on the first floor is the perfect place for him and Otto Hightower, Aemond’s grandfather, to spend the entire holiday working.

It has always been Otto that’s been keen on having Aemond join the company, proudly laying a hand on his shoulder as he showcases the skills he’s acquired to please his father. Viserys, on the other hand, is not as easily impressed, nor does he seem to think much of Aemond’s diligent work.

In his current state, however, Aemond knows that he won’t produce the results he’d want, and that kind of embarrassment and potential spiralling into an afternoon filled with dwelling in self-hatred was better avoided.

Entering the large open-plan kitchen and living room of the villa, he spots the family menace snoring with an open mouth on the sofa, TV turned on to some brain-dead reality show and an open bag of crisps resting on his stomach.

His older brother is somewhat of an enigma to Aemond. How could someone with so many opportunities, so much handed to him on a silver platter, fumble everything given to him so badly?

Aegon’s always been volatile, and prone to getting into trouble, but his destructive tendencies have mellowed out somewhat since he promised to not do drugs anymore, a lifestyle change prompted by his mother telling him she’d revoke his access to his trust fund. Aemond knew better than to smile at his brother's misery in front of his mum, but seeing her scold him for his pathetic life choices felt so gratifying he’d had to hide the grin breaking out across his face behind his hand.

Something about seeing Aegon miserable made Aemond feel a sick sense of satisfaction, like the one you have after indulging in too many sweets and consequently left feeling like you’ll be sick.

Overindulging in self-righteousness.

He spots Helaena in the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of sparkling water and placing it in the crocheted bag hanging off her shoulder.

“You alright, Aemond?”, her gentle voice asks, smiling faintly as she observes him.

“Yeah”, he says, too exhausted to even begin to explain the whirlwind of occurrences happening in the last 12 hours, “Where are you off to?”

Her eyes light up in an instant, “Oh, I heard from Grandfather that the large oak tree we saw by the restaurant yesterday is positively teeming with bugs”

Aemond spots the art supplies in her bag; acrylic pastel colours, brushes of varying sizes and a block of thick, white paper.

“Mind if I join you?”

“Actually, I need some time alone. You understand”, she replies in her usual sweet tone, leaving her younger brother alone once again. Helaena had always been blunt, maybe even a bit too much so for most people’s liking. Aemond knows that she means no harm by it, she just prefers to communicate her needs frankly with him.

Still, he wishes she’d had entertained him by allowing him to join her, if even just for an hour.

His search for distraction continues, leading him to wander around the large villa in hopes of running into his younger brother.

When Aemond left his room at 6.45, looking more similar to a ghost than his usual carefully curated image, the only other family member awake had been Daeron, always cheery and on his way to meet up with some guys he’d acquainted days prior for an early morning rock climbing session.

He’s probably not even back yet.

Aemond curses himself for the second time today. His usual instinct would be to go with his younger brother; to do sometimes productive and fulfilling rather than attending a party filled with senseless idiots looking for no more stimulation than that of an easy fuck.

Fucking Aegon!

His footsteps grow harsher as he heads up to his secluded room to grab his pack of Marlboros, half-running down the stairs again to quickly get out of the villa and onto the gratuitous patio.

His mother hates when he smokes too close to the inside living space, but seeing as she’s not here, he doesn’t bother to walk the extra metres he usually grants her.

Instead, he slouches against the facade of the extravagant holiday home, gazes out over the resort and inhales the strange mixture of cigarette smoke and roses. The entire front of the building is covered in heirloom rose bushes, causing not only the patio, but the kitchen and living room as well, to bathe in the familiar scent.

To Aemond, roses mean summer homework, family dinners, swimming in Red Lake, looking for bugs with Helaena, playing tennis with Daeron, listening to Aegon chat his ear off,

And her.

There she is again. Surrounded by a group of elderly guests dressed in flower-printed dresses, linen suits, and trilby hats.

She’s in the arms of some melting, old skinbag, with a belly so round it prevents the geezer from truly pressing her body against his.

The smile on his face causes Aemond’s hungover stomach to flip, and the hand he’s placed on her waist seems to want to squeeze her flesh a bit more than necessary.

She laughs at something he says, giving the old man a friendly pat on the shoulder.

To Aemond, it looks like she enjoys the attention.

Revels in it.

He crushes the bud of the cigarette against the white, stone wall, exhaling a low scoff before turning around.

Figures.

“So, yesterday I noticed you were a bit stiff”

She has to stretch her neck to meet his eyes; one lilac and one deep blue.

Does he have heterochromia?

They’re in the same place, at the same time. This morning, however, Aemond has pulled his long, Valyrian hair back into a low bun, causing her gaze to shamefully flicker down to his sharp jaw and strong, masculine neck. There’s one delicate, blue-green vein running down the side of it; from his ear to his shoulder, and for some reason the sight of it makes her flustered.

His eyes stay trained on hers, waiting for her to continue.

She already feels like she has a good grasp of who he is.

He is a man of few words, preferring to answer in grunts and hums.

He is intense, evident from his stare never leaving her; evident in how it emits from him like smoke; latent vehemence.

It excites and frightens her in equal measure, a strange cocktail of sensations and impressions swirling in her stomach after only knowing him for less than 72 hours.

She’d initially gone with her regular approach to new dance partners; flattery in the form of exaggerated praise, so that the inevitable criticism doesn’t sting as badly.

It had not worked on Aemond Targaryen, however, who’s stoic face and nonchalant attitude did not waver or crack down even after the 20th “Great work!”

Might as well enjoy the straightforwardness of going right into the critique.

“When you dance you need to be precise”, she explains,

“You need to have good posture, and be aware of your entire body, but it still needs to seem like you are just naturally moving this way out of coincidence”, her voice falters somewhat as she sees his eyebrows raise ever so slightly in question,

“It's not supposed to look as calculated as it is”, she clarifies.

Aemond hums. The non-verbal standard reply almost irks her, but she bites her lip and forces it into a smile.

If she had any other option; any other person who could help her with the audition, she’d probably thank Mr Targaryen for his time and ask him to go back to being sulky and rude at parties. Regrettably, he happens to be one of the few men at Red Lake who’s under 60 and has the physique and the durability to actually do her routine. He doesn’t need to be perfect, he just needs to be her sturdy backdrop.

Besides, she’s more than used to demanding dance partners.

He’ll budge too.

He has to.

“You know at the party… Did you see how we were dancing?”

“Hm”

“It’s a great way to get you to loosen up and really use those hips, you’ll need to learn how to move like that for the routine to work”

His gaze almost makes her cower; incredibly stern and thoroughly unimpressed.

Still, she stands her ground, moving closer to him to place her legs on either side of one of his.

“Like this”, she says, voice coming out far lower than she’d planned for.

Don’t let him intimidate you!

“A-, and then you place your hands on my hips”, she continues, grabbing his hands and placing them on herself.

His hands are soft and hard at the same time; roughened with strength yet his skin is soft. And warm. Her fingers linger on his for a second too long before she places her own hands on his shoulders.

His eyes never leave her face.

Is he studying me?

Waiting for a mistake?

“Since you’ve done horseback riding, I’m sure you’ll catch on quickly”, she says with a anxious smile.

Fuck, why does he make me so nervous!?

“When you gallop, you move together with the horse in a steady movement, right?”

One of her hands slip down the side of his arm, travelling from his shoulder to his hip.

Roughened with strength yet his skin is soft.

She moves her body slightly in a slow rhythm, pushing on his hip to guide him with her, “Like this”

His persistent eye contact burns; surely leaving a hole in her head. His features don’t change, but she knows he’s paying attention to her instructions from the way his hips start to move in tandem with hers.

She has danced with so many people, in so many settings, yet this makes her cheeks heat up.

Her tongue comes out to wet her drying lips, eyes still locked with his.

“Good, you’re getting the hang of it”, she praises, hoping he’ll relax a bit at the compliment.

In truth he’s still quite stiff, but not in the uncomfortable way she cannot help but be. He’s still on alert, refusing to let his guard down, even as he stands with her between his legs and grinds.

One of his eyes, the lilac one, appears to darken, narrowing in challenge at her.

She feels his hands on her hips tighten as he picks up the pace, dancing with more vigour than before; than her. Suddenly he’s leading them as he rolls his hips at her and moves her body to match his pace with his firm grip.

His demanding hold on her forces her closer to him, and with each movement a spark of pleasure runs up her core.

Panic washes over her like a cold shower at the realisation, still she can’t abruptly stop.

Do I want to stop?

With every push of his leg against her hidden, swollen clit, she feels hot; on edge.

She’s no longer on the grass field by the boathouse. She’s somewhere else, somewhere he’s taken her.

All she senses is him.

His lean arms on each side of her, flexing as he moves her body. His eyes, looking down at her with that same intensity that has her head spinning.

They’re locked together. It’s all too fast, too slow, too long, too short.

Aemond, after what feels like an eternity, breaks eye contact to duck his head down, body still dancing with hers.

His lips ghost over the shell of her ear. She feels his breath fan over the delicate skin there. Another bolt of want shoots through her.

Fuck!

In a low, borderline mocking voice, he softly asks, “You think I don’t know how to do this?”

He delivers one final, harsh and precise thrust between her legs before withdrawing completely, turning around to grab his bag and hastily walk away from her panting silhouette.

Left is the smell of cigarettes, sandalwood and.. roses?

A/N: This is your sign to put on Hungry Eyes and lose your shit at the fantastic saxophone solo! Thank you for reading, kisses!

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