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whore-ibly-hot · 7 months ago

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Yandere Boarding school thoughts... (Gender Neutral)

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Multiple yanderes, non-con touching, dub-con, perverted thoughts, obsession, bullying, masturbation, aphrodisiacs, general perversion, dry-humping, voyeurism, controlling behaviors, typical yandere stuff, breeding, drug usage, horny posting.

(AN: I have rizz-en from my grave to be horny once more. All of these guys are avaliable for requests, but will be listed under the materlist simply as Yan!Boarding School.)

Background: Thinking about a Headmasters child!Reader at a private boarding school. For a Fem!Reader, perhaps you're just visiting daddy for the season while he's running the school, or maybe you've been bad, and need more supervision. For a Masc!Reader, it could be the same case, however, with Blackmoore Academy being an all male school, this opens up the availability for reader to be attending.

Student scenarios and profiles:

◇ Harrison Spence, star member of the swim steam, basketball player, and golden boy. Despite jock stereotypes, he's respectful and mature. He always looks out for others, and this lends to why your father suggests rooming with him. Plus... if anything were to happen, your father wouldn't hate to have him as a son in law. He's SOOO friendly when he meets you. Those big strong arms are perfectly suited to lug your bags upstairs to his room. Want help putting stuff away, sure! For a Fem!Reader, he's not suprised how awkward he is when he's unzipping your suitcase, only to be met with some thin lacy garments. He just coughs and backs off. For a Masc!Reader, he wears boxers too! So why does he still feel so hot. He should open a window.

He'll make sure you fit in around campus, mostly steering you in the direction of the athletics department. He'd love to see you at some of his games, cheering him on. You seem so nice, he could really seem himself with you long term, the more he thinks about crushing on you. Besides, you already share a living space. He feels awful about how his body reacts anytime you're too close. You left a jacket behind that smells just like you? He tries not to think about the consequences of fisting his cock into it. Late night out at one of his games? Who cares if you share a dorm and your bed is literally six feet away, it's too far of a walk. Slide into his bed, he's a gentleman. At least until he wakes up the next morning, mind foggy as he instinctively moves his cock up over the waist band, putting a leaky tip against your ass as he resists the urge to press his head into your neck, opting for a pillow instead. He's so, so sorry, but he's gott a deal with it, and you just feel so good. He rationalizes it by saying he's not just some horned up guy, no. You're his roommate, HIS. And what would the Headmasters think! No, he wants a future with you, romance, not just a warm hole to rut...

"Hey, roomie! Listen, practice is running kinda late tonight, so I'm gonna grab food on the way back. Why don't you text me your order, I can bring it back. We can make a whole thing out of it, no need to pay me back! I'm thinking burgers?"

◇ Carter Matthews, student body president, scholar, and in every AP class possible. Even some dumb ones. He doesn't pay much mind to you, you ate very attractive but so is he. If he felt the need for a relationship, he could get whomever he wanted. But he hates... hates how you make the other students, even some of the faculty act. He can't help but follow you around, making sure you obey curfew, and don't get into any trouble. He likes to keep order around here, and it bothers him to have to ignore his student body presidential duties to make sure some delinquent isn't trying to slip you a spiked drink, or some jock has you under the bleachers trying to get your mouth wrapped around their tips.

Eventually, he decides you could be helpful instead of a hinderance. He's busy, may need a form of stress relief, and given babysitting you when Harrison isn't around is one of the main sources of that stress, why shouldn't you help him out. Besides, you look so cute flustered. Maybe it starts small, he tells you your uniform bottoms aren't regulation, and while he tugs them down to 'fix' them, his hands wander a bit too much, grazing the soft skin of your ass. During random room inspections, he may let his hatred of the sports program taking up all the funding by mentioning how obvious it is your roommate wants to stick it in you. Harrison can't stand him, not trusting the cold creepy gaze of the prefect. He'll force you to come to student council meetings, under the guise of assisting him with preparing for a faculty dinner to appease your father, only to get you under his desk while he writes, trying to guide you with one stern hand. He doesn't like to go too deep, not one to enjoy gagging or unnecessary sound that would distract him from working.

"Keep it down." He scolds, cold eyes peering down through blonde bangs. With a sigh, his free hand strokes your cheek. "Just suckle, alright? There'll be plenty of time after I'm done for you to make sweet noises around my cock..."

◇ Evan Reed, CAPTAIN of the swim team, and student assistant PE coach. He's used to play basketball alongside Harrison, but got kicked out for being too violent. Shoving, pushing, and going as far as knocking teeth out. He's a fucking animal. He's handsome, of not a bit of a loner. He isn't popular or unpopular, people tend to leave him alone because of that bad boy attitude and his temper, but he's always welcome to party with the jocks, welcomed into parties and known as a keg-stand king. And boy do you catch his eyes, giving that your always hanging off Harrison, or being trailed by Carter. He's more than happy to accompany you to the pool or help you out in gym class, but it's obvious what he wants. He'll get up behind you in the pool, still smelling of cigarettes as he asks mundane questions while trying to pull your swimsuit to the side and get his hands on that sweet spot between your thighs. Or maybe he'll sit on the edge of the pool, congratulate you on how good your doing, legs spread as he pulls you between them, hoping you'll end up accidentally eyeing his cock. If you are a Masc!Reader, then there's definitely some internalized homophbia. He'll make sure you know these are just normal friend activities, even when he's got you bent over in the boys locker room, ass up. He doesn't EVER plan to be the one on the bottom.

He's a player, chasing tail outside of the school, hitting on peers sisters and mom's alike. But now, he plans to keep you around, not because he necessarily feels like he wants a romantic relationship with you, but because he loooooves how pissed it makes Harrison. He never liked the goody two-shoes, and half suspects he's one of the people who pushed to get him kicked out of basketball. He likes to pick on people, but Harrison sees himself as a knight in shining armor. So it gives Evan a major power boner to make you grind up against him on the dancefloor at some preppy party, while Harrison just has to stand by and not crush his beer can. Evan knows harrison will never, ever do anything to ruin your good guy image of him. Ever.

He's pissed, punching a locker as he let's out a growl. 4-0, what the fuck is wrong with his team? How could they get fucked over so bad after weeks of missing parties for shitty practices. Luckily for him, he sees you on the sidelines, probably waiting for Harrison to walk you back to your dorm. He takes this opportunity to slide up behind you, hands on your hips as you can feel his angry erection rutting up against your ass. "You. Me. Locker room, five minutes, stall three. Be ready, underwear off and bent over or I'll take you in front of the guys who are still changing? Got it?" He departs with a harsh smack on your rear.

◇ Joseph Mick, he's in the newspaper, but it's not like he's the head or anything. He just love photography, and he's the only guy at school to have really mastered the dark room. He's known to be a little... odd. He's the youngest in you and Harrisons class, with a petite stature and thin, lanky arms. He's pale, almost gaunt, but that could be a lack of sunlight given that he spends all his time in the dark room or toiling over photo arrangement mock-ups in the journalism room. People avoid him, but he's okay with that. He's more than happy to just watch from a distance, and photography is his real branch to the world. People only talk to him or react positively if he's taking photos for the paper or the school newsletter. He actually meets you at one of Evan's swim meets, he gets good seats for being student press, and you get good seats for just being Evan's new favorite piece of ass. Your aren't even sure why you were invited, you don't even know anything about how one wins a swimming competition. But Joseph does. He's been to enough of these, and you notice, so you lean over and start asking him questions. He's shocked someone is talking to him, and not about getting a bigger feature in the yearbook. He's more than happy to help point stuff out to you, even if he had to repeat himself or stutter his way through something. He's feeling his heart flutter and his hands shake so much so he can barely hold the camera. Soon, he's watching as you walk away, wishing he could grab onto you and hang you up on his wall to admire like one of his pictures. It's only made worse when he sees a pair of masculine arms dragging you into the boys locker room.

He's a stalker, but it's not his fault! For one, he's got no idea how to approach anyone, much less someone he likes as much as you. And since he's got that reputation as a creep, if he approached you in public, Harrison would be polite but firm at shooing him away, Carter would give him a look that makes him feel like a worm beneath his well polished shoes, and Evan would beat him to the brink of death, but then pass him over to his friends. But God, if he didn't think it was worth it sometimes to just be close to you. He can only get as close to you as his high-focus lens will allow. He's got hundreds of photos of you, some taken by him, some by campus security cams, and he treats each one like the piece that's gonna get him into a top art school. He almost feels bad taking risqué shots of you. He's always following you, and he sees the ways those... those pigs are treating you. If he could stand up to them, he would. He sees (from the cameras he's slipped into your bag) the boner Harrison is always sporting when he in your presence, he even caught a glance of Harrisons late night rendezvous with your pillow. He sees the way Carter leads you through the hallways like his little secretary, lithe fingers trying to get up your uniform bottoms. Worst of all is the way he sees Evan humping you in the pool like a dog in heat, with you obviously unsure about how you feel about this. He knows he'd treat you right, if you'd ever consider being with something like him. Notice he almost feels too bad to take risqué pictures. He can't help it if a picture or two from one of his hidden cams has a bit of an upskirt, or gets a little to zoomed in on your pecs. But know that as he drums humps the table in the dark room, those copies are only so he can keep one in his room and one on his person! He'd never, ever share your sexual exploits, not like Evan would, always bragging about what he does with, or more likely to you.

Being on the newspaper staff, he's got a pretty good idea of everyone's schedules. He's more than happy to try and squeak out some words to you if he knows your many admirers are preoccupied. Trust him, he knows A LOT of good spots to share a meal privately or maybe... maybe you'd like to see the dark room? He's even got a pillow in there, a cushion he can place on a soft stool in case you ever came to visit. He hopes he could get a private photoshoot in, maybe with some silly pictures of you, or even some lewd pics, he's just happy to see his collection expand. He doesn't have a lot of money, but he's more than happy to buy you as much cheap vending machine food as you want as long as you'll spend time with him.

"Oh, shi- hey! I didn't realize you'd be stopping by here. I'm just, uh, editing some photos for the paper." You don't notice as he slyly moves a tray of pics taken outside a dorm window that looks suspiciously like yours. He thanks whoever is out there in this moment that the dark room has a sink as he keeps his right hand out of sight.

◇ Tyler Mertz and Percy 'Pez' Goldberg, two outsiders, and self proclaimed 'dudes with bad tudes'. Put into the same headcanon spot because they aren't ever seen apart. Tyler and Pez got in on scholarship, and immediately bonded because they know they don't fit in among the rich kids at Ridgemoore. Tyler got in on a scholarship to pursue culinary excellence, because if he can do one thing, it's cook. Pez was awarded a scholarship by lottery two years ago, and even though he's barely passing most of his classes and is the biggest delinquent in school, he can't be kicked out. The school made too much of a big deal about his acceptance to create some good press, the faculty are planning to just wait the problem out. Repeating a year hasn't helped with that, though. Still, they are attached at the hip. Both struggle in classes, Pez because of a shitty social life and even shittier focus, and Tyler because he's just a little slow. Still, Tyler excels in cooking, and the faculty know he's trying. There's a few ways you might come across the pair. Maybe you decided to take culinary, and got paired up with a sweet, dopey guy who turns out to be a fucking MasterChef, or maybe your a brat!reader, like I mentioned earlier, and you meet Pez in detention, where he's glad to know the schools newest troublemaker is a looker too. Most likely, you come across them when either Evan makes you tag along to buy some weed and half-priced shitty beer for a post-game party, or Carter tells you he'll personally see to it that your father tethers you to him if he sees you talking to those 'deliquents'. Either way, they're probably some of the nicest guys in the school, even though Pez likes to fight. He's not a bad guy, but the school can't seem to recognize half of the shit he does is in retaliation to someone fucking with him or his friend.

Pez will like any kind of reader, any. If you're bratty!reader, he loves having someone to run around and bust shit up with. But he'll promise to leave the statue of your father alone, if that's what you want. If you're an innocent!reader, he can't deny he'd love to ruin that good guy/girl image you have going on. Smoke a little weed, sneak out a little, let him show you a good time. He promises he won't cross any lines or do something that would really scare or upset you. He's not a bad guy, he just wants to show you there's so much stuff out there to do. Unlike Joseph, he doesn't let the fact that others think he's a freak keep him from hanging with you. He wants them to see that you like him. HIM. He thinks your adorable no matter who you are, and frankly, snuggling up on the Headmasters kid is just another act of defiance he's happy to flaunt. Eventually, he might even open up to you about his shitty home life, and the fact he's only called Pez cause' when he's high that candy is all he wants to eat.

Tyler is a huge softie. He doesn't let the thing people say about him get to him, mostly because he's a bit dense in the moment to know he's being made fun of, but also because he's okay with being alone. He's happy with who he is, a nice guy. But, that doesn't mean he doesn't love his best buddy, or mind adding you to there little group. It's just one more mouth to feed in his eyes. He'll walk you to all your classes, slinging his big arms around you and keeping you close to his side. Unlike Pez, he grew up with a pretty loving family, and they're what he misses most about being away at boarding school. Most of the money he makes selling weed with Pez goes back to his family, but they don't really know how he makes it. He comes to see you and Pez as his new little family.

With these two, there will be lots of late nights with bad movies and pizza made from scratch. Being on some rundown couch squished between to large bodies, at least one set of arms wrapped around your waist. I think they both are pretty open about telling each other about the crush they have on you, given that they are best buds. These idiots probably got super high one night, and Tyler let slip that he, quote, 'thinks he wants to put a baby in you', to which Pez replies he'd like to put something along those lines in you too. It wouldn't be hard for them to both come to terms with wanting to share you, they share everything else. They just hope you'd want both of them, Pez and Tyler can't stand the thought of making things awkward by you only wanting one of them, so they both subtly try to transition you into the roll of being their partner.

Pez would be fucking fuming when he starts realizing the things boys at school are doing to you. Whether he witnesses it himself, or you come to him and Tyler seeking comfort, he'll pound the shit out of anyone who tries to touch you like that. If you like someone else, Pez wouldn't wail on them to eliminate a rival like Evan would, but rather he hands it over to Tyler. Tyler would come up with some rumors, maybe a reason the guy isn't right for you, and why would Tyler lie? He doesn't feel great about lying, but thinking about the things guys at this school do to you, fills the sweet chefs stomach with a bitter bile.

They wouldn't outright pressure you into sex, but rather try and find ways to coerce you into requesting or initiating it. Pez has some weed laced with something, nothing too strong, but it'll make even a nun feel a little frisky. He'll lay back or rub your thigh, hoping the weed will relax you enough to come out and say what you want. Maybe an aphrodisiac or two gets slipped into a warm drink Tyler made for you. It gets you feeling all hot, but don't worry, you can stay in their room overnight and wear their clothes, so they can... make sure you're not sick or anything.

"Hey," you can feel a pair of arms wrap around you from your spot at the library table. You look up and see Pez, with Tyler now playfully laying his head on the table beside you. "Heard that shithead Evan's got an away game, so it looks like your freed up after all to spend a little time with your favorite guys." His lips are dangerously close to your ear, making you squirm. "Yeah, man, we've got a bunch of movies n' shit from the store, and I'll even make your favorite. Stay the night, it's not like we've got anywhere to be tommorow, and my beds so cold..." Tyler teases playfully, eyes wide and feigning sadness.

All these boys make it difficult to get any alone time at Ridgemoor, but the men certainly don't make it easier... (Taboo part two with the faculty coming soon, because I'm horny for Dilfs and old men with questionable dynamics with reader.)

#yandere #yandere oc #tw.yandere #yandere fanfiction #yandere boy #tw.bullying #tw.noncon #yandere smut #yandere x reader #x reader #yandere headcanons #tw.dubcon #gender neutral reader #yandere oc x reader #drabble #yandere boarding school #x reader smut #yandere boarding school x reader #tw.breeding

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jmkjournalblog · 1 month ago

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idk if your requests are open but i really like your writing and i thought just asking couldn’t hurt 🙈

you can ignore if you dont want to hehe

but i was wondering if you could maybe write smut with sub!reader and mommy!agatha? like maybe they work together or something but mainly smut please 😇. can reader be a little bratty too perhaps 👀 ?? but like mommy agatha knows how to put her in her place 🙈🫠 hehe

thank you very much!

It's written a bit choppily, but I hope you like it)

Miss Carter

You're filming a new movie with Agatha and you've already gotten on her nerves with your behavior.

Warnings: Smut, Power dynamics, Mommy kink,

Later that evening, you found yourself in the dim glow of a bar near the set, nursing a cocktail and replaying the day’s events. You hadn’t expected to see her again so soon, but there she was—walking in like she owned the place, still dressed in her Miss Carter costume, though her blouse was now unbuttoned at the collar, revealing the barest hint of collarbone.

She spotted you instantly, her eyes narrowing slightly as she approached.

“No entourage tonight?” she asked, sliding onto the stool next to you.

“Didn’t think I’d need one,” you replied, your smirk returning. “What brings you here, Miss Carter?”

Her lips quirked at the name, but there was no humor in her gaze. “Don’t start.”

“Start what?”

“That thing you do,” she said, leaning closer. “Where you push and push until someone snaps.”

“And what if I want you to snap?” The words left your mouth before you could stop them, but you didn’t regret them. Not when you saw the way her pupils darkened, the way her chest rose and fell just a little faster.

Agatha didn’t respond—not with words, anyway. Instead, she reached out, her hand tangling in the front of your blouse. She pulled you close, her breath hot against your ear as she whispered, “Do you always get what you want?”

You turned your head, your lips brushing the corner of hers. “If I work for it.”

Her kiss was sudden, ferocious. It wasn’t playful or teasing—it was possessive, her lips crashing into yours with enough force to make you gasp. Her hand tightened in your blouse, pulling you closer as her teeth nipped at your bottom lip.

When she pulled back, her breathing was ragged, her eyes blazing. “Come with me,” she ordered, her voice low and commanding.

*********

The hotel room was a blur of tangled limbs and frantic hands. Agatha pushed you against the wall, her body pressing against yours as her lips found your neck. Her teeth scraped your skin, just enough to make you shiver, and her hands slid under your blouse, her fingers grazing bare skin.

“You’ve been driving me fucking insane,” she growled against your ear. “You and that mouth.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but her fingers slid between your lips, silencing you. “Suck,” she ordered, her tone leaving no room for argument.

You obeyed, your tongue swirling around her fingers, your eyes locked on hers. The intensity of her gaze made your knees weak, and when she finally pulled her fingers free, her lips crashed into yours again, swallowing your moan.

“Good girl,” she murmured, her voice dripping with approval. “Now let’s see how well you follow the rest of my instructions.”

Your pulse thundered in your ears as her lips claimed yours, rough and demanding, her teeth catching your bottom lip before her tongue swept in. The kiss was a battle, a clash of wills, and when she finally pulled back, you were gasping for air, your lips swollen and slick.

"Take it off," she commanded, tugging at your blouse impatiently. Her voice left no room for argument, and your hands moved automatically, unbuttoning the garment with trembling fingers. Her eyes never left yours, even as the fabric slipped from your shoulders and fell to the floor.

She let out a soft, almost predatory hum as she drank you in, her gaze trailing over the lacy bra barely covering your chest and the curve of your waist. “You’re going to call me mommy tonight,” she said, her tone cool, authoritative. “Understood?”

“Yes, mommy,” you whispered, the words sending a jolt of heat straight through you. Her lips curled into a pleased smirk, and before you could catch your breath, she pressed you harder against the wall, her thigh slipping between yours.

Agatha’s hands were everywhere—rough, possessive. One slid up your stomach, cupping your breast through the lace, her thumb circling your nipple until it hardened beneath her touch. The other traced the line of your hip before moving to your thigh, gripping it firmly as she pressed her leg against your core. The friction made you whimper, your hips moving instinctively to grind against her.

"Pathetic," she teased, her voice dripping with mockery as she pinched your nipple sharply, making you gasp. "I’ve barely touched you, and you’re already so desperate. Do you want me to make you beg, or are you going to behave?"

“I’ll behave,” you managed, your voice shaky, though the fire in your eyes challenged her. You saw her grin, wicked and knowing, before she stepped back, leaving you cold and aching in her absence.

"On the bed," she ordered, her voice sharp. You scrambled to obey, the sheets cool against your heated skin as you lay back, your legs slightly parted in silent invitation. Agatha watched you for a moment, her expression unreadable, before crawling onto the bed like a predator closing in on its prey.

Her hands slid up your thighs, pushing your skirt higher until it bunched around your hips. She let out a low, approving hum at the sight of your damp panties, her fingers hooking into the waistband and pulling them down slowly, deliberately, leaving you bare and exposed.

"Look at you," she murmured, her tone laced with condescension as her fingers trailed along your inner thigh. "So eager, so wet. Is this all for me?"

“Yes, mommy,” you breathed, your hips lifting slightly, silently begging for her touch.

Her fingers brushed against your slick folds, featherlight, teasing. "Good girl," she said softly, her tone a stark contrast to the sharp edge of her next move—two fingers sliding into you without warning. Your back arched off the bed, a cry escaping your lips as she set a slow, deliberate pace, her fingers curling to hit that perfect spot inside you.

"Shh," she cooed, her free hand moving to your mouth, her fingers pressing against your lips. "Suck."

You obeyed instantly, your tongue swirling around her fingers as she thrust into you, the wet sounds of your body mixing with your muffled moans. Her eyes never left yours, her gaze dark and possessive, and when she finally pulled her fingers from your mouth, they trailed down your chin, leaving a glistening trail.

“Bet you taste so sweet,” she murmured, leaning down to kiss you, her tongue sweeping into your mouth. When her kisses moved lower—down your neck, across your collarbone, and over the swell of your breasts—you were trembling beneath her.

Her mouth closed around your nipple, her tongue flicking against the sensitive peak as her teeth grazed it lightly. One hand continued to work between your legs, her fingers pumping in and out of you with devastating precision, while the other gripped your hip, holding you in place as you writhed beneath her.

"Stay still," she ordered, her voice firm. "You don’t move unless I tell you to. Understand?"

“Yes, mommy,” you gasped, biting your lip to stifle a moan as her fingers pressed harder, faster, the heel of her hand grinding against your clit. The pleasure was overwhelming, building like a storm inside you, and when she suddenly pulled her hand away, you nearly sobbed at the loss.

"Not yet," she said, her smirk returning as she kissed her way down your stomach, her hands gripping your thighs and spreading them wide. "You don’t come until I say so."

Her breath was hot against your core, and when her tongue finally made contact, you cried out, your hands fisting the sheets. She was relentless, her mouth devouring you like she was starving. Her tongue flicked and circled your clit, alternating with long, slow strokes that left you shaking.

“Please,” you whimpered, your hips bucking despite her earlier command. “Please, mommy—”

Her nails dug into your thighs, holding you still as she pulled back just enough to speak. "What did I say about moving?"

“I’m sorry,” you gasped, your chest heaving. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

"See that you are," she said, her tone sharp as her mouth returned to you. This time, her fingers joined her tongue, sliding back inside you and curling just right. The combined sensation was too much, and you teetered on the edge of release, your body tense, trembling.

"Don’t you dare," she warned, her voice muffled against your skin. But you couldn’t help it—the pleasure crashed over you, white-hot and blinding, and you cried out as your body convulsed beneath her.

Agatha sat back, her lips glistening, a dangerous smile on her face. "I didn’t say you could come," she said, her tone deceptively calm.

“I—I couldn’t stop,” you stammered, your voice shaking.

Her hand shot out, gripping your chin and forcing you to look at her. "Then I suppose I’ll have to teach you some discipline," she said, her eyes gleaming with wicked intent. "Turn over. We’re not done yet."

And as you obeyed, your heart pounding with anticipation, you knew this was just the beginning.

You turned over as instructed, the cool sheets brushing against your bare chest, your body still trembling from the orgasm she hadn’t permitted. Agatha’s presence loomed behind you, her hands resting firmly on your hips, holding you in place. Her nails dug into your skin just enough to make you gasp, her touch a warning of the control she wielded.

“Did I tell you to come?” she asked, her voice low and sharp, like the edge of a knife.

“No, mommy,” you murmured, your cheek pressed against the bed, your breathing uneven.

“No,” she repeated, almost to herself, her tone dripping with mockery. Her hands moved up your back, tracing the curve of your spine before sliding back down to your ass. She gave it a sharp slap, the sound echoing in the room, the sting making you yelp.

“You need to learn some self-control,” she said, her voice firm. “And I’m going to make sure you remember this lesson.”

Her hands parted your thighs, spreading you open for her, and you shivered under her gaze, feeling completely exposed. You could feel her breath on your skin, her lips brushing over the curve of your ass, her tongue darting out to tease the sensitive skin just below. She was taking her time, savoring every moment of your vulnerability.

“Such a good view,” she murmured, her voice thick with satisfaction. Her fingers slid through your folds, teasing your sensitive clit just enough to make you whimper, but not enough to push you toward release. “Do you feel how wet you are? All of this because you can’t behave.”

Her hand moved lower, her fingers slipping into you once more, slow and deliberate this time. You moaned, your hips jerking involuntarily, but her other hand pressed down firmly on your lower back, pinning you in place.

"Still," she barked, her tone brooking no argument. "If you move again, I’ll stop. Do you understand?"

“Yes, mommy,” you whispered, biting your lip to hold back the noises threatening to spill from your throat.

Her fingers moved inside you with precision, her pace maddeningly slow. She alternated between thrusting and curling them, hitting that spot that made you see stars. Her thumb brushed over your clit occasionally, sending jolts of pleasure through you, but she always pulled back before you could get too close.

"You don’t come until I say you can," she said, her voice dripping with authority. "Let’s see if you can follow orders this time."

You clenched the sheets in your fists, your body taut with the effort of holding yourself back. Every nerve in your body was on fire, her touch both heaven and hell, pushing you closer and closer to the edge only to pull you back.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, she stopped, her fingers slipping out of you. You let out a frustrated whimper, your hips bucking slightly in protest, but her hand came down on your ass again, harder this time.

"Did I say you could protest?" she snapped, her nails digging into the flesh of your hip.

“No, mommy,” you whimpered, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from the sheer intensity of it all.

“Good,” she said, her voice softening slightly. “You’re learning.”

You felt her shift behind you, her weight settling on the bed. Then her hands were on you again, spreading you open, and her tongue replaced her fingers. The wet heat of her mouth against you made you cry out, your body arching despite her earlier warnings. Her tongue flicked over your clit, teasing and taunting, before sliding down to taste you fully.

She devoured you like a woman starved, her hands gripping your thighs to keep you in place as her tongue worked relentlessly. The pressure built again, stronger this time, and you bit down hard on the sheets, desperate to hold back.

“Mommy, please,” you begged, your voice breaking. “I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” she said, her voice muffled against you. “You’ll hold it until I tell you to let go.”

Her fingers joined her tongue, sliding into you once more, her pace quickening. The dual sensations were overwhelming, and your body trembled uncontrollably beneath her. Your breaths came in short, ragged gasps, and tears streamed down your face as you fought to obey her command.

“Now,” she said suddenly, her voice sharp and commanding. “Come for me. Now.”

The release hit you like a tidal wave, crashing over you with an intensity that left you sobbing into the mattress. Your body convulsed, every muscle tensing and releasing as the pleasure tore through you. Agatha didn’t stop, her tongue and fingers prolonging your orgasm until you were a shaking, incoherent mess.

When she finally pulled away, you collapsed onto the bed, utterly spent. She sat back, her hands running over your trembling thighs, soothing you as you tried to catch your breath.

“Good girl,” she murmured, her voice soft now, full of pride. “You took your punishment well.”

You slowly rolled over onto your back. Even as the aftershocks of your orgasm left your limbs trembling, a fresh pulse of need stirred deep inside you. She must have felt it—the way your breath hitched, the subtle shift of your hips—because she tilted your chin up, her dark eyes locking onto yours with a smirk that promised no mercy.

“You’re insatiable,” she murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from your damp forehead. Her voice was soft, almost amused, but her fingers tightened their hold on your chin, her control as absolute as ever. “It’s adorable.”

“I just want—” you started, but the words faltered under her gaze. Want? Need? Whatever it was, it burned hot and undeniable.

“You want whatever I give you,” she interrupted, her thumb brushing over your swollen bottom lip. “And you’ll take it, won’t you?”

“Yes, mommy,” you breathed, the words a plea and a promise all at once.

Her smile widened, wicked and knowing, as she shifted her weight to straddle your hips. Her blouse hung loose now, unbuttoned completely, and her skirt rode up high on her thighs. The sight of her above you—dominant, unyielding—was enough to make you moan softly, the sound slipping out before you could stop it.

“Such a needy little thing,” she mused, rolling her hips against yours with agonizing slowness. “I could keep you here all night, begging for it, and you wouldn’t complain, would you?”

“No, mommy,” you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation.

Her hands slid down your body, dragging over every curve, every dip, until they reached your thighs. She pushed them apart with a firm insistence, her nails grazing your skin just enough to make you shiver. She settled between your legs, her hands pressing your thighs wide open as she leaned down, her lips brushing against your ear.

“I think I’m going to enjoy ruining you,” she whispered, her breath hot and teasing. “Piece by piece.”

Your response was swallowed by a gasp as her mouth moved to your neck, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin before biting down just hard enough to leave a mark. She kissed and nipped her way down your body, her hands following the path of her lips, leaving no part of you untouched.

When her mouth reached your chest, she paused, her eyes flicking up to meet yours as she hooked her fingers under the lace of your bra. “Off,” she ordered, sitting back slightly to give you room. You scrambled to obey, your hands fumbling in your haste to remove the garment.

“Good girl,” she murmured when you tossed it aside, her voice thick with approval. Her tongue flicked against you, slow and deliberate, while her fingers pinched and rolled your other nipple, the combination making you arch into her touch.

The sensations were overwhelming, but she didn’t stop. Her kisses moved lower, down your stomach, each one deliberate, leaving a burning trail in their wake. When she finally reached your core, she paused, her breath hot against your slick skin as she looked up at you with a smirk.

“Do you think you deserve this?” she asked, her voice dripping with mockery.

“Yes, mommy,” you whimpered, your hips shifting involuntarily, seeking contact.

“Hmm.” She pressed a single, maddeningly light kiss to your clit, making you gasp. “I’m not convinced.”

“Please,” you begged, your hands gripping the sheets as you fought the urge to reach for her. “Please, mommy, I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” she echoed, her lips quirking in amusement. She leaned in again, her tongue flicking out to taste you, one slow, deliberate stroke that left you trembling. “Prove it.”

You didn’t have time to ask what she meant. Her tongue worked against you, relentless and precise, alternating between soft, teasing flicks and firm, demanding pressure. Her fingers joined the mix, sliding into you with practiced ease, curling just right to make you cry out.

You were a mess of moans and gasps, your body writhing beneath her as she brought you to the brink again and again, only to pull back just before you could fall. It was torture, exquisite and unbearable, and by the time she finally let you come, your scream was muffled only by your fist pressed against your mouth.

She didn’t stop. Even as your body shook with the aftershocks, she continued, her tongue and fingers driving you higher and higher until you were begging her to stop, your voice broken and pleading.

“Shh,” she cooed, finally pulling away. Her face was glistening, her lips red and swollen as she climbed back up to kiss you. The taste of yourself on her tongue was intoxicating, and you moaned into her mouth, your hands gripping her waist to pull her closer.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” she murmured against your lips, her voice soft for the first time all night. “Completely undone. Mine.”

“Yours,” you agreed breathlessly, the word carrying a weight you couldn’t quite put into words.

She smiled, her fingers brushing your cheek before she pressed another kiss to your lips. “Good girl.”

Agatha pulled you upright, her strength catching you off guard as she dragged you into her lap. Her skirt had ridden up completely, revealing smooth thighs that parted slightly as she adjusted you, her hands gripping your hips with bruising force. The heat between your bodies was electric, her eyes dark and dangerous as she pulled you flush against her.

"You're going to ride me now," she growled, her voice low and commanding, her fingers biting into your flesh. “Show me how much you want it.”

You whimpered, your breath catching as you felt it—her strap, thick and unyielding, already pressed against your entrance. You hadn’t even seen her put it on, but the realization sent a thrill down your spine. She shifted beneath you, angling her hips just right, the tip of the toy teasing your slick folds.

"Look at you," she purred, her lips brushing against your ear. "Dripping down my thigh already, like the needy little slut you are."

“Mommy,” you moaned, your voice trembling as your hands gripped her shoulders for support.

“Go on,” she said, her tone a delicious mix of mockery and command. “Sink down on it. Take me like the good little whore I know you are.”

Your body obeyed instinctively, your breath hitching as you lowered yourself onto her, inch by inch. The stretch was perfect—almost too much—but the way Agatha’s hands guided you, steady and possessive, made it impossible to stop. By the time you were fully seated, your legs were trembling, your body taut with need.

“Fuck,” Agatha hissed, her eyes locked on where your body swallowed her. She rocked her hips upward, a sharp thrust that made you cry out, your nails digging into her shoulders.

“Ride me,” she demanded, her voice rough. “Show me how badly you’ve been wanting this cock.”

You moved tentatively at first, your hips rolling in a slow rhythm as you adjusted to the fullness of her. But Agatha wasn’t having it. Her hands gripped your ass, guiding you with rough, forceful movements, driving you harder onto her strap. Each thrust made your body jolt, your moans spilling freely into the air.

"That’s it," she growled, her tone dripping with approval. "Fuck yourself on me. Let me see how desperate you are."

Your pace quickened, your movements growing frantic as pleasure coiled tight in your belly. Agatha’s nails raked down your back, her teeth grazing your neck before she bit down hard enough to leave a mark.

"Such a greedy little slut," she spat, her voice thick with lust. “Look at you, using my cock like you can’t get enough. You’re fucking pathetic.”

“Yes, mommy,” you gasped, the sting of her words only spurring you on. “I need it—I need you.”

"Yeah?" she taunted, her lips curling into a wicked grin. "You need me to fuck you like the worthless little whore you are?"

“Yes! Fuck—yes,” you cried, your movements growing erratic as her hands controlled your every motion, slamming you down onto her over and over. The sound of your bodies colliding was filthy, echoing in the room along with your broken moans.

Agatha shifted suddenly, her arm wrapping around your waist as she flipped you onto your back, keeping the strap buried inside you. Her hips snapped forward, pounding into you with relentless force. The new angle had you screaming, your nails clawing at her back as she fucked you mercilessly.

“Take it,” she growled, her voice rough and breathless. “Take every inch like the good little slut.”

Your legs wrapped around her waist, your heels digging into her ass as you matched her rhythm, the pleasure overwhelming. Her hand snaked between your bodies, her fingers finding your clit and rubbing it with ruthless precision.

“You’re going to come on my cock,” she hissed, her eyes blazing as she watched your face contort with ecstasy. “And when you do, you’re going to scream my name like the obedient little slut.”

“I—I can’t,” you stammered, the sensations too much, too intense.

“Yes, you can,” she snapped, her thrusts never faltering. “You don’t get to decide. I do. Now fucking come for me.”

Her words were your undoing. Your body shattered beneath her, your orgasm tearing through you like a wildfire. You screamed her name, your voice raw and desperate as your nails left marks on her skin. Agatha didn’t slow, driving you through the waves of pleasure until you were shaking, your mind blank and your body spent.

When she finally stopped, she leaned down, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered, “Good girl. You belong to me now.”

#agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #agatha x you #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness smut #agatha smut #agatha all along

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tsartistry · 8 months ago

Note

what do you think Lacy and Drew's reaction would be if they realised the god Apollo went to the same school as them? Like, would they recognise Lester as Apollo? If yes, do they just ignore it?

SOOO that is actually another thing I'm struggling with, haha! I'm a little stuck on how I'm going to navigate that. I haven't quite settled on a solution yet, but some options I've been considering:

A glamour on Lester that makes him difficult for Greco-Roman Demigods to spot. Their gaze just kinda... slides right off him.

An all-hands-on-deck situation at CHB takes Lacy and Drew out of the school

Lester is so Unremarkably Average that Drew just doesn't pay him a passing glance

Drew and Lacy DO recognize him, but he unknowingly gaslights them by saying he's never met either of them before and he's never been to summer camp. Drew follows up by charmspeaking him and asking him to tell her his real name, and he insists it's Lester.

The time and methods Niobe used to brainwash him actually caused physical changes that make him difficult to recognize (exercise & strenuous activity is often a big part of cult indoctrination)

It's a big school and their paths just never cross 🤷‍♀️ (unlikely, because Lester will be around Walt and Carter a lot)

#niobe kidnaps lester fic #lester papadopoulos #niobe #drew tanaka #lacy pjo #trials of apollo #peishathebookity #ask

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lemoncrushh · 9 months ago

Text

Wild Horses - One

Summary: Amber Crosby didn’t end up with the life she’d expected, but that didn’t keep her from following her dream. A young, up and coming country recording artist, she and her band set out to do just that. Trying to leave her past behind, it wasn’t until meeting Harry Styles that she realized just how her life could take a turn and alter her future forever.

A/N: Please note all portions in italics are meant to be flashbacks :).

STORY PAGE

Chapter One Word Count: 4.3k+

“Are you sick and tired of being sick and tired…” - Daughtry; Witness

“Are you sure this is what you wanna do?” Pauline asked, lifting her coffee mug to her lips.

Amber let out a breath and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, Mom, it is.”

Pauline swallowed as she looked out the window to the backyard. The swing set was old and rusted, the sandbox her children had once played in now overgrown with weeds. Her daughter was nearing twenty. It was time to let her go and earn her wings.

“Then I think you should go for it,” she said with a sweet smile.

Relief spread over Amber as she rose from her chair to give her mother a hug.

“Thanks, Mom. I’ll make you proud, I promise.”

“You already do, sweetheart,” whispered Pauline as she patted Amber’s hand, a tear trickling out of the corner of her eye. “Now you go follow your dream. Laci and I will be just fine.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely. She’s a wild one, keeps me on my toes. Just like you.”

Amber caught the loving admiration underneath Pauline’s joking tone.

“I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too. Now stop making me teary-eyed and go pack.”

Amber grinned as she bound for her bedroom. She was gonna be okay. She could feel it.

The restaurant was freezing. Actually, to say it was a restaurant was like calling that motel they’d stayed in the night before the Ritz. It was a dang Waffle House, but at least it was cheap. Amber had managed to save up some money on this short road tour, but she wasn’t about to splurge on a real restaurant, even if that sign she’d seen for that Mexican place had looked appealing. Still, it was so freaking cold in this joint, her nipples could’ve broken glass.

“And what can I get you, hon?” asked the blond middle-aged waitress.

Amber faked a smile as she rubbed her arms. “Eggs over easy with grits and bacon please.”

The waitress nodded and penciled in her order before addressing Carter who sat beside her. He ordered his usual - three waffles. Nothing else. Of course he would smother them later with butter and maple syrup. Amber watched him sip on his Coke when the waitress walked away and wondered how on earth he was able to carry all the band equipment day after day when he was loaded up on so much sugar. She never once saw him come down from his high and fall flat on his ass, but she waited for the day she would.

“How many more miles til Nashville?” groaned Brendan, running his palm down his face, his eyes weary.

“About eighty or so,” replied Johnny, smoothing out the road map in front of him. “Not much longer.”

“Good, cause I need a real bed. Alone.”

Amber smiled meekly at her bass player. Brendan had taken the wheel early that morning after they’d left Charlotte. The boys were getting a bit restless and annoyed with having to share a motel room, one of them usually opting for the floor or the van so they wouldn’t have to share a bed. Occasionally if Amber got a double room, Carter would convince her to let him take the other bed. Sometimes in the beginning he’d even slip himself into her single bed, and she wouldn’t kick him out if she was drunk enough. But those days were over, she’d told him.

Nashville would be a different situation. The band was scheduled to play a festival, billed as one of the opening acts. It would be excellent exposure for them, and in return they got free accomodations at the Hilton. It was a sacrifice Amber was willing to make to get the recognition. She’d just decided not to tell the boys until after the show that they weren’t getting paid.

The waitress brought their food and other than the sounds of chewing and swallowing, the occasional burp, the four sat in silence. Amber continued to rub her arms when she could, the coffee doing little to warm her up. She’d wished she’d brought her hoodie, but since it was damn near a hundred degrees outside, she hadn’t even bothered to pull it out of her duffle bag. Suddenly, she felt another set of hands on her skin, and she looked up to see Carter, a small grin on his face as he rubbed her naked arms.

“Cold?” he raised a brow.

“Yeah,” she sighed, allowing his long arms to envelop her as she scooted closer to him.

Her stomach did one of those flip-floppy things that she didn’t like. Okay, maybe she liked it, but she didn’t want to. She’d been firm with Carter that they were not a couple, and he wasn’t supposed to act like they were. He’d reluctantly agreed, what with being in a band together and all. But sometimes he could be really sweet. Sometimes he…

“Can I get you anything else, hon?” the waitress asked.

“I don’t think so,” replied Carter, giving her his best smile as he squeezed Amber tighter with one hand and patted his stomach with the other. “That was great.”

The blond winked at him and set the check beside him before twisting her hips and strutting to the next table. Johnny and Brendan began to pull out their wallets until Amber stopped them.

“I got this one, guys,” she explained, giving Carter a nudge so he’d slide out of the booth.

Brendan shrugged, returning his wallet to his back pocket. Johnny dropped a few ones on the table and folded up the road map. As Amber paid the bill at the counter, Carter slid a hand across her butt and whispered in her ear.

“Meet you in the van.”

Amber nodded. “Be there in a minute. I gotta use the bathroom.”

“Ooh, honey, he’s a cutie,” Amber heard the waitress say when the boys were out of ear-shot. She scoffed.

“He your boyfriend?” the blond continued.

“No,” Amber shook her head as she took her change. “Just my drummer.”

“Yes!” exclaimed Brendan when he opened his hotel room door. “At last! My own room!”

Amber chuckled in the hallway, her duffle bag over her shoulder as she made her way to her room. The door clicked shut behind Brendan, but she could still hear him shouting something about ‘getting used to this’. Johnny’s room was across from Brendan’s, Amber’s next to it.

“I’m so ready for a nap,” she remarked, her card key in the door.

“Now? I thought...maybe we could hang out for a while. In mine.” Carter pointed across the hall.

“I’m exhausted, Carter.”

“I know, but…” he paused, his lips quivering into a suggestive grin, “can’t you be exhausted in here? With me?”

“Ugh...Carter…” Amber groaned. Here we go again, she thought.

“I give great back rubs.”

“I know you do,” she nodded with disinterest. “But I’m not feeling that great. I don’t think that Waffle House agreed with me.”

Amber heard the click of the lock and pushed her door open.

“Amber…”

“Carter,” she rolled her eyes, dropping her bag on the floor next to the bathroom. “I’m going to sleep. See you at dinner.”

Pauline held up the phone so Amber could see Laci dance around the living room in her tutu. Amber beamed and giggled as Laci did the same, twirling like a ballerina.

“Yay!” Amber clapped when Laci was finished. “Good job!”

Laci continued to giggle, her brown curls bouncing as she fell over on the couch, her head in Pauline’s lap.

“She’s been practicing,” Amber’s mom announced.

“I can tell! How’s school?”

“It’s going great. Her teacher says she’s always excited to come and never wants to leave.”

“Aw, I’m glad,” said Amber.

A knock sounded on her door so she rose from the bed to answer it. Carter stood on the other side, his hands in his pockets. Amber lifted a finger and pointed to her cell phone to indicate she was talking on it. Carter nodded and followed her into the room, shutting the door behind him.

“Hey, Mom, I gotta go. We’re about to go to dinner.”

“Alright, sweetheart,” Pauline nodded. “Have fun in Nashville!”

“I will. Bye Laci!” she waved into the phone. The little girl’s head popped into the screen she blew kisses.

“Love youuuuu!”

“I love you too, baby girl.”

Hanging up the call, Amber shoved her phone into her back pocket and looked up at Carter. He’d apparently had a shower, his caramel hair combed back, his clean t-shirt stretching across his broad shoulders.

“Ready?” she breathed, hoping he hadn’t noticed how it caught in her throat.

“Yeah, Johnny and Brendan are downstairs.”

“Okay.” Amber stepped into her sandals and walked around him to the door.

“Um...Amber?”

“Yeah?” she stopped.

Carter scratched his stubbled chin before shoving his hand back in his pocket.

“Sorry about...before,” he offered.

Amber chewed her cheek and shrugged. “You didn’t do anything.”

“I know but…” he hesitated, then looked down at his feet. “Hey, I know how you feel about us-”

Amber held up a hand. “There is no us, Carter. We’re friends. Bandmates. That’s all.”

His jaw set so hard he could cut through steel, Carter nodded. “Got it.”

Amber sighed. “Carter…”

Stepping closer to her, he put his hands on her waist.

“We got something, Amber. You might not see it yet, but I do. All those times you cried on my shoulder til four in the morning. Those nights in your bed-”

“It’s over, Carter,” she pushed his hands away.

“But I don’t want it to be.”

Amber swallowed hard as she looked down. “It needs to be,” she whispered.

“But why?”

“Because...that was the old me.”

Amber felt Carter sigh more than heard it. She watched his feet as he stepped around her to open the door.

“You’ll want me again, Amber. Maybe not tonight. But one day you will.”

Amber glared at him as he held the door. Maybe he was right.

Harry didn’t usually stay with his band. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, and it wasn’t an ego thing. It was more of a safety thing. If fans got wind of where Mitch, Sarah, Adam or Clare were, nine times out of ten they figured Harry was somewhere near. They would bombard the hotel just to get a glimpse of him, and sometimes things could get out of hand. And Harry didn’t want his band to feel like they couldn’t get out and see the city if they wanted to. So early on Jeffrey Azoff, his friend and manager, had talked him into staying at a different hotel from theirs. And so far it had worked.

Today, however, Harry decided to join his band in the hotel restaurant - the Hilton where the rest of the band members were staying. He reckoned no one would suspect he would be there, so he could slip in and take a seat with the gang and enjoy a private meal. But he’d thought wrong.

He wasn’t sure if it was the girl who nearly fainted in the lobby, or if there had been paps or someone else outside who’d recognized him, but by the time he made it around the corner near the elevators, just outside the restaurant, he was surrounded. Cursing under his breath, he put on a brave face and greeted the mob of fans.

Fans. That was actually too kind of a word. He knew who his true fans were. They were the ones who bought his album and tickets to his shows. They were outside waiting in a queue for hours so they’d get a good spot in the general admission section. They had websites and blogs and wrote fanfiction and made their own merch. They weren’t waiting outside of hotel restaurants hoping to get a selfie with someone they may or may not actually had heard of, let alone sang along to in the car. But being the Harry Styles that he was, he knew it wasn’t fair to pick and choose. Treat people with kindness, that was his motto. He lived by the golden rule, even when all he wanted to do was get a bloody meal with his friends.

When the last girl had left, a squeak in her voice as she snapped one last photo, Harry strolled into the restaurant, waving at his bandmates who sat in the corner of the nearly empty room. Immediately a waiter came by, setting a glass of water in front of him.

“Evening,” nodded the waiter in a monotone.

“We already ordered for you,” said Clare.

“Oh. Thanks,” Harry grinned, setting his napkin in his lap.

“Guess, this isn’t happening again,” remarked Mitch.

“What isn’t?”

“This,” Mitch gestured. “Dinner at our hotel. You were mobbed.”

Harry shrugged with a sigh. “Yeah. It wasn’t too bad. Coulda been worse.”

Sarah and Mitch glared at him before lifting their glasses simultaneously. The waiter came with their food then, and the mood was lightened with idle chatter. Halfway through his salad, however, Harry could feel eyes upon him. He had a gift, he did. He could always tell when he was being watched. Usually it involved a camera, but when he lifted his gaze to browse the room, he only found a pair of pretty blue eyes. They belonged to a young woman sat at the table across the room, one of only two others occupied in the restaurant presently. She was joined by three other lads, who all seemed to be doing their best to pay attention to themselves and each other, and certainly not to her.

He had no idea how or why. She was cute. She had pouty red lips and a heart-shaped face. And there was no way he could ignore the way she tried to look away when he caught her looking at him, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Yeah, he would definitely be paying attention to her.

Actually, come to think of it, she looked right familiar to him. Biting his lip, he tried to place her.

A burst of laughter broke his thoughts and he turned his head to see Adam showing the other three a video of his kid on his phone.

“How adorable!” exclaimed Clare.

As Adam scrolled to find another funny video, Harry leaned toward Mitch.

“Hey mate, who’s that?” he pointed to the girl across the room. “Do you know her?”

Mitch shrugged just as Sarah said, “That’s Amber Crosby.”

“Who?” Mitch and Harry asked in unison.

“Amber Crosby? She’s part of the festival tomorrow?” Sarah rolled her eyes. “That’s her and her band.”

“Ohh,” sounded Harry. Amber Crosby, that’s right. He’d heard her single a few times. She was good.

“How do you know this?” inquired Mitch.

“Because I make it a point to keep up with what’s going on,” remarked Sarah, pursing her lips. Mitch mocked her with a face which earned him a pinch.

Harry watched Amber sit with her band, though she might as well had been sat there alone. She reached for her glass of water, taking a sip through a straw before her eyes wandered up and locked with Harry’s again. He caught the slight blush in her cheeks as she quickly averted her gaze and set her glass back down.

“Hey, Harry, are y-” he heard Mitch begin, but he didn’t stay to listen to the rest of the sentence. Instead, he rose from his chair and crossed the room to where Amber sat.

“Hello,” he greeted when he reached her table. “Amber Crosby, right?”

Once again, he didn’t miss the rosiness of her cheeks as she lifted her head.

“Yes,” she smiled up at him.

“I wanted to introduce myself. I’m Harry Styles.”

Amber beamed wider, taking Harry’s outstretched hand. “Nice to meet you, Harry.”

“I saw that you’re playing tomorrow,” he half lied.

“Yeah,” Amber made a face. Harry wasn’t sure if it was one of embarrassment or annoyance. But either way, he liked how her nose crinkled when she did it. “I think we’re like second or third. So we’ll be out of here by sundown.”

Harry feigned shock, placing his hand on his chest. “And miss my set?”

Amber giggled. “Well, I don’t want to, but you know…”

“Hey, man,” uttered the straight-nosed guy sat next to Amber. If he hadn’t extended his hand, Harry might have thought he was about to threaten him.

“Oh, sorry!” Amber sat up, addressing the three men at the table. “Harry, this is Carter, Brendan and Johnny. My band. Guys, this is Ha-”

“Harry Styles, man, nice to meet ya!” Carter nearly slapped his hand against Harry’s, making Amber grimace. But Harry was gracious, shaking each man’s hand and making them feel important.

“I’ve heard your song,” said Harry, “it’s really good.”

It was Amber’s turn to cover her heart. “Oh, thank you.”

“Yeah, I’m anxious to hear more.”

His eyes met Amber’s then, making her smile. He didn’t miss Carter’s arm, however, that suddenly stretched across the back of her chair.

“Will you be there tomorrow?” asked Amber. “I mean, as early as we’ll be playing?”

“Yeah, I should be. I’ll be popping in off and on throughout the day.”

“What time are you on?” piped up one of the other lads. Damn, Harry had forgotten their names. Brandon? Brennan?

“We’re on at eight,” replied Harry.

“Oh. We might be gone by then,” Carter declared, his fingers playing on Amber’s shoulder. “We have another gig to get to the next day.”

“Oh, too bad,” Harry frowned, not missing the maneuver Amber pulled to get her shoulder out of Carter’s reach. “Well, just wanted to say hello, and um...best of luck tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Amber and her band sang.

Harry gave a small wave as he turned back for his table, rejoining his own band.

“What d’you think?” Sarah raised a brow.

“She seems lovely.”

Just then Amber and her band rose from their table, heading for the exit.

“I think I’ll try to introduce myself tomorrow,” said Sarah. “I definitely wanna catch their set.”

But Harry was barely listening. He watched Amber follow the men out of the restaurant, turning around once to wave at him. He smiled and waved back.

He definitely wanted to catch their set too.

Carter thought he heard something. It was a cheap motel, and the walls were very thin. But did he detect the sound of someone crying? Amber’s room was next door. Could it be…

He waited a few more minutes, just to be sure. Then swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he sat up and walked to the door, hesitating only for a split second before stepping outside.

He knocked gently at first, then thought that was ridiculous and knocked louder. She didn’t answer right away, though that didn’t surprise him. Again, he knocked, this time calling her name.

“Amber! Amber, are you in there?” He knew his question was pointless; of course she was in there. And she was hurting.

He heard the click of the lock before the door opened, just enough to reveal half of her tear-stained face.

“Are you okay?” Another stupid question. Of course she wasn’t okay.

She shook her head, her hair falling over her eyes. Carter let out a deep breath.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Amber looked down and shook her head again. “Not really.”

Carter nodded. He wasn’t going to push her.

“Can I...come in?”

Swallowing hard, Amber stepped back, her head still bowed. When Carter shut the door behind him, she finally looked up at him.

“Oh!”

It was only then that it dawned on Carter that he was shirtless. He’d been lying on his bed after returning to his room, still in his jeans, his sweaty t-shirt and shoes discarded across the room in a pile. His mind on getting to Amber, he hadn’t bothered to put on a clean shirt.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

With a sharp turn, Amber ran to the bed, planting herself on it face down.

“Hey,” Carter whispered as he sat down next to her. He watched her back tremble and shake as she cried into her pillow. “Amber…”

When she didn’t reply, he looked around the tiny room. On the nightstand sat a half-empty bottle of whisky. It wasn’t open, but he picked up the empty glass next to it and sniffed it. He made a face as he wondered if she’d already drunk that much tonight.

“Amber,” he said again.

Just as he reached for her, she sat up and wrapped her arms around him. He’d let her cry as much as she wanted; he was willing to wait all night if he needed to. Finally, she lifted her head, wiped her eyes and sniffled.

“I hate my life,” she admitted.

“What?”

“I’m so tired, Carter,” she cried. “So very tired. Of everything.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m sick of trying so hard...when it doesn’t get me anywhere.”

Pushing a strand of her brown hair from her wet, sticky cheek, Carter assumed she meant the band, her music. But then she dropped the bomb.

“I just want someone to love me,” she whined, her big brown eyes searching his face. “Why is that so hard?”

“Amber…”

“Am I unlovable?” she asked.

“What? No!” Carter knew that wasn’t true. Okay, maybe he wasn’t in love with her. But he’d definitely had feelings since they’d met. He knew she’d had a hard life and kept her guard up, but he’d never gotten the whole story. He’d always hoped one day she’d tell him.

“Sometimes…” she hesitated, “sometimes I just wanna end it.”

“End what?” Damn, he was full of dumb questions tonight. He knew the answer. He just hoped he was wrong.

“My life.”

He took her face in his hands then. He wanted to yell at her, shake her into reality.

“You don’t know what you’re saying, Amber,” he said firmly.

“Don’t I?” she rolled her eyes. “No one gives a shit about me.”

“I do. I care.”

“You do?” Though her eyelids were heavy, she fluttered her lashes.

Carter could smell the liquor on her breath before he kissed her. He didn’t care. He wanted her to know she was wanted.

She hadn’t asked him to stay that night, but he had anyway. He wanted to make sure she was okay. And when she’d gotten up to puke, he’d held back her hair.

Carter sort of made a habit of staying in Amber’s room after that. About a month or so later, after they shared an entire bottle of whisky, she told him her story.

“Ten minutes,” the stage assistant announced, sending nervous tingles down Amber’s spine.

“Okay, okay,” she breathed, shaking her limbs and fingers. “Let’s do this.”

Just then she heard a voice behind her, one that she recognized from the night before. She turned to see Harry Styles chatting with Brendan along with his bandmates Sarah and Mitch whom she’d met an hour ago. When their eyes met, he smiled widely and stepped toward her.

“Hi, Amber,” he greeted. “Promised I’d make it to see you, and here I am.”

Amber returned his smile, her insides giggling with glee. He hadn’t actually promised that, not in so many words, but she thought it was a nice gesture.

“Good to see you, Harry,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t crack before she even made it to the stage.

“You’ve met Sarah and Mitch,” he confirmed in part question.

“Yes, I did. They’re so nice.”

“I have a great band,” Harry nodded.

“You definitely do. They all seem very fond of you. As they should.”

“Five minutes!”

“I’m on next,” Amber voiced with wide eyes.

“Best of luck to you,” Harry grinned. “You’ll be great.”

“Hope so,” she breathed. She looked around to see her band members coming toward her. For some reason she got more nervous when she made eye contact with Carter.

“Hey, man,” he said as he approached Harry, giving him a friendly slap on the shoulder. “Glad you could make it.”

“Yeah, good luck, mate,” Harry reached out his hand to tap Carter’s arm.

“Places people!” the stage hand called.

Amber shrieked, trying to let her body release the last of its nerves. She caught the tiny giggle coming from Harry and gave him a shrug.

“Always nervous,” she muttered.

She hadn’t expected Harry to take her hand then. And she hadn’t expected to feel the electricity that charged through her skin from his touch. And she hadn’t expected the look in his eyes to take all her nerves away and make her feel calm.

“Let’s go!” Carter shouted, his hand on her back as he pushed her onto the stage.

Harry watched Amber Crosby’s short set from backstage. She was good. Better than good, she was fantastic. He loved the tone of her voice, both warm and clear. She had a youthful quality about her while also being very sensual, like some of the classic country females whom he enjoyed. Though he was familiar with the radio hit, he liked her other songs just as much, if not more. He wondered if she wrote them all, and he made it a point to ask her when he got the chance. If he got the chance. He was disappointed that she and her band would be leaving after their set. There was something about her… he didn’t know what exactly, but he wanted to find out.

The crowd cheered after their last song, making Harry smile. He hardly knew this girl, but he was already feeling a sense of pride for her. His own hands clapping eagerly, he watched as the band took a bow together and turned to exit the stage. He felt the presence of two bodies stepping to either side of him, joining him in his applause.

“So what do you think?” asked Sarah.

“I think I just found my new opening act,” Harry replied.

As always feedback is appreciated (even if it is an old fic lol).

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