#or my employment troubles would be over

[english-history-trip]

Hey, check out the cool sword I just acquired.

A friend had helped her friend move, and she subsequently ended up with it. I was visiting and said Is that a sword and she immediately went It is your sword now, and who am I to argue.

[joelletwo]

WAIT i never complained abt my scheduling lol. still have not seen my actual boss more than that one five seconds and me and main coworker are supposed to work coverage out amongst ourselves bc thats more relevant fine and okay. but i ask her about what i should switch to going more part time and off of being Fulltime In Training and she says oh ill talk to [boss] about it. and then does and tells me oh [boss] wants to talk to u about that today or tomorrow.

she never does and shes never in her office so i dont hear anything by friday when i work w my second coworker. who i dont really think either of us vibes w the other lol weve been nice but im happy not to work w her. and the feeling is mutual bc she told me oh is this ur last friday i didnt think u were working [boss] told me u were going to be switching to mon-thru-thursday. OKAY? thats really funnily pointed but WHY DID SHE TELL U AND NOT MEEEEEEE. why cant i just know what im working more than two days in advance lolllllll. i am not made for this pwease.

[bethanydelleman]

One criticism of Jane Austen is that she ignored the lower classes. I find this kind of dumb on multiple levels, primarily because not every work of fiction or social criticism needs to include every single social ill, but also because she does talk about servants/the lower classes quite a bit more than people realize and what she says is important.

The overall theme: kindness to servants/the lower classes/the poor is a very important mark of character.

We all know that Elizabeth Bennet changed her mind about Mr. Darcy after hearing a positive character reference from his housekeeper, but that is just one example of many. The Dashwood girls are better employers than John & Fanny since they easily find servants to move across the country with them: Her wisdom too limited the number of their servants to three; two maids and a man, with whom they were speedily provided from amongst those who had formed their establishment at Norland. Also, servants tended to brag about having wealthy employers, these three servants wanted both a far away and a less prestigious job. John & Fanny were really that bad!

Another mark against General Tilney's character is that he gets irrationally angry at/scares servants:

To such anxious attention was the General’s civility carried, that not aware of her extraordinary swiftness in entering the house, he was quite angry with the servant whose neglect had reduced her to open the door of the apartment herself. “What did William mean by it? He should make a point of inquiring into the matter.” And if Catherine had not most warmly asserted his innocence, it seemed likely that William would lose the favour of his master forever, if not his place, by her rapidity.

“Why! How can you ask the question? Because no time is to be lost in frightening my old housekeeper out of her wits, because I must go and prepare a dinner for you, to be sure.” (Henry, on his father coming to his house for a visit. This may be half a joke, but General Tilney is very critical of the meal)

Mrs. Ferrars's character is made quite plain in this complaint about paying annuities (basically a pension here) to some of her husband's old servants:

I have known a great deal of the trouble of annuities; for my mother was clogged with the payment of three to old superannuated servants by my father’s will, and it is amazing how disagreeable she found it. Twice every year these annuities were to be paid; and then there was the trouble of getting it to them; and then one of them was said to have died, and afterwards it turned out to be no such thing. My mother was quite sick of it. Her income was not her own, she said, with such perpetual claims on it; and it was the more unkind in my father, because, otherwise, the money would have been entirely at my mother’s disposal, without any restriction whatever.

Mrs. Ferrars is loaded, and she begrudges paying a few pounds to 3 servants. She is greedy and ungrateful.

Mrs. Norris's treatment of the servants is similar to her treatment of Fanny. It shows the depth of her miserliness (how much could one boy really eat?) and also cruelty:

"I had been looking about me in the poultry-yard, and was just coming out, when who should I see but Dick Jackson making up to the servants’ hall-door with two bits of deal board in his hand, bringing them to father, you may be sure; mother had chanced to send him of a message to father, and then father had bid him bring up them two bits of board, for he could not no how do without them. I knew what all this meant, for the servants’ dinner-bell was ringing at the very moment over our heads; and as I hate such encroaching people (the Jacksons are very encroaching, I have always said so: just the sort of people to get all they can), I said to the boy directly (a great lubberly fellow of ten years old, you know, who ought to be ashamed of himself), ‘I’ll take the boards to your father, Dick, so get you home again as fast as you can.’ The boy looked very silly, and turned away without offering a word, for I believe I might speak pretty sharp; and I dare say it will cure him of coming marauding about the house for one while. I hate such greediness—so good as your father is to the family, employing the man all the year round!”

It also highlights her hypocrisy, as Mrs. Norris has moved in during the play to help with the preparations, so she is getting free meals all week but she won't let this kid eat when he's helping his father (who is building the stage for the play)

Mr. Knightley considers the common people of Highbury before moving a path, even though he likely owns all of the land and can do whatever he wants:

"But John, as to what I was telling you of my idea of moving the path to Langham, of turning it more to the right that it may not cut through the home meadows, I cannot conceive any difficulty. I should not attempt it, if it were to be the means of inconvenience to the Highbury people, but if you call to mind exactly the present line of the path"

The kind Musgroves, who have given their nursemaid a retirement plan instead of turning her out:

A chaise was sent for from Crewkherne, and Charles conveyed back a far more useful person in the old nursery-maid of the family, one who having brought up all the children, and seen the very last, the lingering and long-petted Master Harry, sent to school after his brothers, was now living in her deserted nursery to mend stockings and dress all the blains and bruises she could get near her, and who, consequently, was only too happy in being allowed to go and help nurse dear Miss Louisa.

And who clearly are rewarded for this kindness.

Anne Elliot showing kindness to Mrs. Smith, who has nearly fallen right out of the gentry, vs. her fathers disdain for charity:

“Westgate Buildings!” said he, “and who is Miss Anne Elliot to be visiting in Westgate Buildings? A Mrs Smith. A widow Mrs Smith; and who was her husband? One of five thousand Mr Smiths whose names are to be met with everywhere. And what is her attraction? That she is old and sickly. Upon my word, Miss Anne Elliot, you have the most extraordinary taste! Everything that revolts other people, low company, paltry rooms, foul air, disgusting associations are inviting to you. But surely you may put off this old lady till to-morrow: she is not so near her end, I presume, but that she may hope to see another day. What is her age? Forty?”

Added to Sir Walter and Elizabeth's idea to cut expenses:

“Can we retrench? Does it occur to you that there is any one article in which we can retrench?” and Elizabeth, to do her justice, had, in the first ardour of female alarm, set seriously to think what could be done, and had finally proposed these two branches of economy, to cut off some unnecessary charities, and to refrain from new furnishing the drawing-room; to which expedients she afterwards added the happy thought of their taking no present down to Anne, as had been the usual yearly custom."

Vs. how the Crofts treat the poor:

She could have said more on the subject; for she had in fact so high an opinion of the Crofts, and considered her father so very fortunate in his tenants, felt the parish to be so sure of a good example, and the poor of the best attention and relief, that however sorry and ashamed for the necessity of the removal, she could not but in conscience feel that they were gone who deserved not to stay, and that Kellynch Hall had passed into better hands than its owners’.

Henry Crawford's moral fall begins with ignoring the needs of his tenants:

"I have half an idea of going into Norfolk again soon. I am not satisfied about Maddison. I am sure he still means to impose on me if possible, and get a cousin of his own into a certain mill, which I design for somebody else. I must come to an understanding with him. I must make him know that I will not be tricked on the south side of Everingham, any more than on the north: that I will be master of my own property... I have a great mind to go back into Norfolk directly, and put everything at once on such a footing as cannot be afterwards swerved from. Maddison is a clever fellow; I do not wish to displace him, provided he does not try to displace me; but it would be simple to be duped by a man who has no right of creditor to dupe me, and worse than simple to let him give me a hard-hearted, griping fellow for a tenant, instead of an honest man, to whom I have given half a promise already. Would it not be worse than simple? Shall I go? Do you advise it?”

Of course, Henry does not go to Everginham, as he knows is right, but instead goes to the party in London, where he again runs into Maria...

Yes, Austen didn't write servants/the lower classes as full characters in general, they are in the background and around the edges of the scenes, but over and over, we can sort characters into moral and immoral by their treatment of those less fortunate around them.

[dinogoofymutated]

SFW!Nightcrawler/GN!Reader - Part 1 - part 2 - Part 3

kdhbcjshbc I know I said I was gonna work on my Wolverine fic rn but I got sidetracked. This was originally going to be one long ass fic but since the first half ended up already over 4k works I decided to split it into two! It's basically a friends to lovers fic and I know the beginning is a bit of a jumpscare but they're both adults by the end of the fic I promise!! Edit: I totally forgot to add!! Another special thanks to @blue-devil-of-the-lord for their help with german translations!

Tws: Mentions of animal cruelty in the circus. The ringleader is an asshole. I might have made Kurt's brother a bit of an asshole too sorry. Kurt's backstory is going to be kinda a combination of all the shit I've read/know so please be patient lol. I'll go back and add more tags if I think of any.

    You were sixteen when you first met Kurt Wagner, although, he went by Kurt Szardos back then. You had never been to the circus before, and you hadn’t really paid to be there anyway. The show had already started when your father had taken you into the tent, sitting you down in an absent seat near the front. You didn’t want to get in trouble, but he had assured you it was fine. He had business to attend to, and told you that his future employer had given his blessing for you to sit and watch as your father handled business. After all, the two of you were a combo deal, and if you were to be working for the circus, you might as well know just what you were getting yourself into.

    The circus tent was loud with laughter and the sounds of an awed crowd. It was a little overwhelming, to be honest. There were simply too many voices, too many lights- and yet when you finally set aside your grievances to try and enjoy the show, you still struggled.

    The monkeys were annoyed with their handler, and every shout towards the crowd was an insult. The lion was young, and still afraid he wouldn’t make the jump through that vicious ring of fire- still healing from the burns he earned by brushing against the flames during the last performance. The doves from the magician act were a bonded pair, rejoicing the time and attention they were being given in the spotlight- and yet the male was already dreading their moments after the show and the dark, dirty cage they would kept in. The female was trying her best to cheer him up. Every animal was unafraid to keep their voice down, and you had never heard animals speak so loudly before. Part of you wonders if it was simply because they were so used to being ignored, they had grown used to letting their voice free- speaking from the heart and yet always being unheard.

    You didn’t like this part of the circus much- and although the tricks these animals did were beautiful and amazing, you couldn’t manage to enjoy it like all the others around you did. You were frowning while all others were smiling and laughing so joyously- perhaps that was what drew him to you in the first place. 

    “And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present-” All but one of the spotlights have started to circle around the tent, the ringmaster standing completely within the only lingering light. “Our Flying Fiend… the Daredevil Demon… The one and only, Nightcrawler!” Every moving spotlight lands on a single man standing on one of the high beams. He’s smiling so brightly that you can see it from where you stand feet below him. He’s… strange. Elf-like ears, yellow eyes, and blue skin. A pointed tail sways eagerly behind him, and he takes a deep bow in front of you. His yellow eyes peer open as he does so, and for a moment, you swear he looks straight at you. You’re not entirely sure if he was wearing a costume or not anymore. 

    The performance starts out with one hell of a beginning. Every flip and jump is an incredible act of athleticism- and you find your eyes following Nightcrawler throughout every trick. Two other acrobats join the fray, and yet he’s the only one who catches your eye. At one point, they bring out these long swings- ones that sweep right above the audience with every swoop. There’s one swing for every side of the audience- and the acrobats switch with a dramatic flare every few swings. 

    On the very last switch, Nightcrawler is the one who swings over your seats. 

    He’s much more handsome up close, you realize, blushing even where you are now. You swear with every swing, he’s looking at you. It makes your heart flutter a bit, and on the very last swing of the night, he takes out a rose, pretending to throw it to multiple groups of screaming fans, before he swings again with a dramatic flair. Unlike the other times, he’s holding onto the swing with his feet and tail. He’s so close to the audience without touching a single hair on anyone's head- and then he gets to you.

    You could have sworn that time had slowed, no matter how quickly it happened. The two of you finally lock eyes, and his hand stretches out. The rose falls into your lap, the air whooshing by your face as he’s gone just as quickly. You pick up the flower, a genuine smile finally on your face, and you find that all the other voices of excitement around you have finally drowned out.

    That was the first and last time you had watched the show at Herr Getmann's Traveling Menagerie. After that, you and your father were behind the scenes instead of in the stands. 

    It had been about a week and a half since you and your father had been walking to the circus to work. He knew every path and every road like the back of his hand, insisting the two of you walk instead of drive to save money on gas, and he just so happened to know a few shortcuts through the woods. Usually, you were able to rely on him to guide you, but today you woke up late. Your father had already left without you- which you’re not entirely sure wasn’t intentional. He did leave a note for you, giving you instructions on how to get there on your own. 

    Needless to say, that didn’t actually work out too well. A thirty to forty-five-minute walk had quickly turned into an hour, and then an hour in a half. You were trying your absolute best to follow the instructions, but this was hardly a cohesive path in the middle of the woods. It wasn’t exactly easy.

    You’re beginning to give up at this point, stumbling through the brush as you try to find the general direction you think you’re supposed to be going. Your feet have started to ache and blister, and you find yourself beginning to lose hope.

    “Hello!” If the sound of the voice hadn’t scared the shit out of you, the strange man hanging upside down from the branches of a wild Crab apple tree certainly did. You shriek in terror, your feet slipping as you fall back on your butt. You hold your hands over your heart as the strange acrobat from the circus jumps down in a panic, holding his even stranger hands out in front of him.

    “Oh- Es tut mir Leid! I am so sorry! I had not meant to startle you!” He says frantically, kneeling down to help you up in a very gentlemanly manner. You’re wide-eyed as you look at him, letting him help you up without a fuss. Up close and in broad daylight like this, it was very clear that he certainly was… Blue, to say the least.

    “I-it’s okay.” You stutter. He smiles warmly at you, tail swaying excitedly behind him, and it simply confirms to you that he wasn’t wearing a costume at all. You open and close your mouth a few times, trying to find some words. He blinks at you as you do so, patiently (if not obliviously) waiting for you to speak.

    “You’re from the circus, aren’t you?” Is what you finally land on, still a little startled from before. The acrobat nods eagerly.

    “I am. I'm happy that you remember me! I’ve been told I leave a bit of an impression.” He jokes, and you find yourself smiling again. He was charming, for someone so strange. “The farrier is your father, right?” He asks, taking you by surprise. You didn’t think that anyone had taken the time to notice you, your father’s shadow in every sense of the word. It makes you feel a little funny, but surely he didn’t remember you from that first performance, right? Maybe he’s just very observant of those who come in and out of the circus stables. 

    “Well, yes.” You affirm, starting to anxiously fiddle with your fingers. “I didn’t really expect you to know who I was, to be honest.” He lets out a happy chuckle at that.

    “Of course, I know! A face like yours is hard to forget.” He chirps, sending you a wink. “But I must say, You’re a bit far from the circus, Meine Freundin.” You make a bit of a grimace at that, and he sends you a questioning smile.

    “Yes, well… To be frankly honest, I’m a bit lost.” You admit, eyes locked solely on the ground, taking the time to notice the various fruits that had fallen from the tree and gone bad. You can see the acrobat’s tail swaying in your peripheral vision, and still feel his eyes on you. It makes you blush a little from embarrassment, a little flustered that you had become so lost.

    “I’ll gladly show you the way, I was just about to go back myself.” Your head snaps up to look at him in bewilderment at that, before you realize just how lucky you are to have found him out here. He picks up a basket of crab apples that you hadn’t noticed before, and you offer to carry it for him as a thanks for guiding you back. He won’t let you no matter how hard you try, certainly the first gentleman you’ve met in quite a while. He tells you that your profuse thanks is more than enough for him.

    The two of you get to talking while you make the long walk back to the circus, and he tells you about his mother, Margali Szardos, and how she had asked him to wander over this way to pick the fruit from the crab apple tree for her. She was fairly adamant about him doing so, telling him that it was of great importance, but he didn’t quite understand why fruit could be such a pressing matter. He’s very funny, and you find yourself greatly enjoying his company. The two of you feel like close friends already, and you hadn’t even realized that you didn’t even know his real name until you’ve already arrived at the plethora of brightly colored circus tents.

    “I’m so sorry, I don’t believe I ever asked for your name.” You say, the awkwardness of the question not even registering with how happy you are to simply be in his company. He sends you another dazzling smile before he holds his hand, offering it for you to shake.

    “I’m Kurt.” He tells you. You introduce yourself as well, happy to have made a new friend today. You hear someone calling your name from not too far away, and spot your father waving his hand at you, calling you over.

    “I have to go, but thank you so much for your help!” You say, once again thanking him adamantly.

    “Walking with you was lovely. I hope to see you more often.” Kurt says, right before you go. You can’t help but blush a little, unable to keep yourself from smiling widely. You couldn’t help it! He was just so handsome in both looks and personality, the strangeness of his skin color and three-fingered hands being something you easily begin to care less and less about.

    “Likewise.” You agree, almost completely flustered. Your father calls for you again, and you quickly say your goodbyes before you rush off to him. You find yourself in a rather good mood for the rest of the day, despite your sore and blistered feet from the long journey here.

    Many months flew by very fast while you and your father worked for the circus, and you and Kurt had grown very close. He visited you when he could sneak away from practice and performances, and although you were more concerned about him staying out of trouble, you began to appreciate the company beyond the way a simple friend would, finding yourself blushing and flustered while around him.

    A fact that hadn’t changed throughout your time there was the treatment of many of the animals. All of them had a grievance or problem of some sort, and it broke your heart to have to stand by without the ability to help them. In the eyes of the circus, you were just the Ferrier’s assistant, nothing more. At first, you were, in the very least. Some of the animal trainers had noticed how good you were with the horses, and how even the most skittish of the equine animals would calm around you and let you handle them without any trouble. Things like that don’t go unnoticed, and soon enough many of the animal handlers had heard about your “gift” with the live attractions. Part of this was due to your Father’s constant bragging about your special skill with animals, although you were the only one who knew the truth about it all. After a while, the frustrated animal trainers began to ask you to assist them with the other animals as well, noting how it hadn’t taken very long before they were at ease around you. The size of cages and the attitudes of the trainers were something you couldn’t change very much, but even if you could only help out with a few things here and there, you were happy- and the animals were too.

    Today, you were doing your best to handle an absolute disaster. 

    Tonight’s animal show was a new set, with lots of loud noises and the pops of fireworks launching far, far above the tops of the tallest tent. With so many new lights and colors, they should have known something was bound to go wrong- and boy, did it. The smallest pony in the show was a stunning Blue Roan mare named Bubbles- and unlike many of the other mares in the show, she was very skittish. Her trainers mostly knew to be careful around her, but that consideration slipped under the radar when it came to all the new changes. Her show went by relatively seamless, with only a few issues here and there- but it was enough to put her on edge. When the fireworks finale went off as she was being led out of the main tent, it was just her last straw.

    I don’t like them. I don’t like the loud noises. Bubbles is pacing anxiously in the back of her tiny stable, still having trouble settling down. Every bump or noise from outside and even the neighboring stables sends her spiraling again. You’re standing at the gate, giving her a cautious amount of room to pace and worry so that she doesn’t feel trapped by you. 

    “I know, Bubbles, It’s okay.” You whisper. You’re so concerned for her, and angry with her trainers, too. It makes your blood boil to remember how one of them had gotten frustrated with her tonight, eventually giving up on settling her completely and thrusting her reins at you, telling you to “take this stupid thing somewhere else!”. The lack of patience and understanding makes you rage, but you know you can’t say a thing if you want to keep this opportunity to work with the animals.

    Please don’t be mad at me. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m so scared. I’ll do better, I promise. Bubbles says again. The words almost bring tears to your eyes, hurting for her. You hate seeing her so scared.

“Hey, hey. Easy, I’m not mad at you, I promise. You’re safe with me, okay?” You tell her, starting to slowly approach her as her pacing begins to slow. She whinnies once, huffing as she tries her best to calm herself down. Eventually, she begins to settle, letting you get close enough to reassuringly pet her nose and flank. She leans into the comforting touches, finally beginning to relax after being high-strung for so long. The two of you sit in a comfortable silence for a minute, enjoying each other's company as you hear the sounds of the circus begin to dwindle and die.

     I’m sorry for all the trouble. Bubbles apologizes quietly.

    “You haven’t been any trouble, Bubbles, I promise.” You say soothingly. “Do you want to talk for a bit before I go?” She nods her head, and that’s all the answer you need.

    The two of you talk for a long, long while as you take off her tack and brush her down, pampering her as you ready her for bed. You talk about food, trainers, the new horseshoes she’s getting next week- anything at all. Even Kurt comes up in conversation, eventually.

    I like him. She says decisively. He sneaks me leftover apples. You can’t help but giggle at that, already having a hunch that he had been giving the horses treats while no one was looking. Not that you really mind, it was nice to know that they had someone other than you and your father looking out for them.

    “I agree. He’s very nice.” You say, smiling brightly. She noses you in response.

    I think he likes you, too. You instantly blush at her words, shaking your head at her with a flustered smile. You honestly doubted he saw you as much more of a friend, even if the two of you have had somewhat sensitive moments sometimes.

    “I really don't think-”

    “Guten Abend!” You can’t help but shriek at the greeting, knowing just who it was as you whip around in the stable, spotting Kurt leaning against the gate with a cheesy smile.

    “Kurt! You have got to stop scaring me like that!” You scold, throwing the dandy brush at him. He pretends to be wounded, holding a hand over the spot it hit him dramatically as he laughs.

    “I’m sorry. Seems I couldn’t help myself.” Kurt says, and you lightly slap his arm again for good measure when you can reach him, trying and failing to keep yourself from smiling at his antics.

    “You could have startled Bubbles. It took forever for me to get her settled after the show today!” You scold him again, smile not letting up for a second. Kurt smiles a little nervously at that before he looks behind you to see the completely unbothered Bubbles.

    He wouldn’t have- I saw him come in. She says. You wave her off discreetly. That’s not the point, Bubbles! But even without being able to understand her, Kurt seems to get the hint that she wasn’t even a tad bit bothered and jumps the gate with such ease you can’t help but be a little jealous of his athleticism. 

    “Then I’ll apologize to you too, Bubbles.” Kurt cooes, lavishing her forehead and muzzle with pets and kisses that she happily receives. You watch him with a smile, a warm feeling spreading through your chest. You knew you were absolutely gone on him, this little crush of yours having developed into true and deep feelings of affection. But how could you not? Even watching him right now it’s clear to see the kindness and support he gives to every living thing regardless of status or species. That meant more to you than you think he might ever know.

    “How was it out there?” You ask eventually, leaning against the side of the stable.

    “So-so. The crowds have started to react less to our sets. Mother says that we’ll get better reactions if we change the performance a little.” Kurt shrugs, tail tucked tightly around his own waist- something you noticed he did every time he entered the stables so that he wouldn’t startle the horses with the snake-like limb. You frown, eyebrows furrowing at the news. You knew that they had been trying some new things for the animal shows, but the acrobatics had always been so incredible and immaculate. It’s strange to you that anyone would look on at that part of the show with a straight face.

    “And how does Ringmaster Getmann feel about that?” You ask. Bubbles huffs through her nose angrily at his name, and you join Kurt by her side, petting her shoulder. You can see that Kurt is frowning, not responding to your question as his eyes stay squarely on Bubbles. 

    “...Kurt?” You’re really worried for him now, knowing that the look on his face can only mean that nothing good will come of it.

    “It’s nothing for you to worry over.” Kurt responds after a minute. “He wants us to do riskier tricks, but Mother keeps telling him it’s not the best idea. He’s rather adamant about it though.” His voice is soft while he delivers the news, and it makes you wonder how on earth he’s not angry about the blatant disregard for both his and his adoptive siblings’ safety.

     I knew I had a good reason to hate that man! Bubbles speaks angrily as she flicks her tail, Kurt being the only reason she hadn’t bucked or stopped in frustration. Your worry begins to deepen as you think everything over.

    “I- You won’t get hurt, will you?” You ask, worry clearly spilling into your tone. “The animal injuries are already bad enough, but if he starts risking human lives-”

    “I’ll be fine, Schatz.” Kurt cuts you off, stepping away from Bubbles to take your hands in his own. The nickname had a tendency to make your heart flutter, but right now all you could feel was the anxiety of an impending disaster. “Please don’t worry for me.” He tells you, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. You’re breath catches at the act, and when you look at him there's a fond, reassuring look on his face. Still, it did not ease your worries in the slightest. Kurt takes a step closer to you, his hand cupping your face now instead.

    “I can’t help it. I worry because I care.” You whisper. Kurt smiles softly at you, leaning in to rest his forehead against your own. The two of you sit in silence for a minute, reveling in the fond moment. Still, your lips tingled with how close the two of you are, eyes darting down to the shape of his lips as you ran your tongue across your own. Kurt’s pretty eyes don’t let the action go unnoticed. He begins to lean in to close the gap between the two of you, and your eyes flutter closed as he does so.

    “Kurt.” The voice startles the two of you, separating immediately. It’s Stephan, Kurt’s adoptive brother. He’s not only startled you and Kurt, but Bubbles too. She spooks in the tiny stables, rearing up before you immediately turn to her, doing your best to calm her down once again. She’s breathing a little hard, but she’s not pacing again, which was much better than before, although you were certainly peeved to have backtracked already.

   “You know you’re not supposed to linger around the stables after the show,” Stephan says to Kurt, who only frowns. The two had begun to form a rather strained relationship as of late, but neither of you would have expected him to go out of his way to catch Kurt like this. You glance back at them as you finish settling Bubbles, staying silent as the two of them share a look. Kurt’s tail sways a bit, and you can see Stephan roll his eyes at Kurt before he nods his head to the door and begins to leave. Kurt sighs deeply before he turns to you with a remorseful look.

    “I’ll see you soon- promise,” Kurt says, taking your hands in his own and giving them a reassuring squeeze. You’re frowning, unable to help it at this point due to the moment being ruined. Kurt leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead before he leaves, and you smile a bit. He gives you another quiet goodbye before he jumps the gate again, and follows his brother out.

    You're left standing there with Bubbles, and despite Kurt’s promises, you have an uneasy feeling in your chest. You want to blame it on the disappointment of the night, but you can't help but wonder when you'd actually get to see him again.

[2-dsimp]

if it’s no trouble could we get another part to DILF/ nanny reader? Maybe like a willing reader? Bc I know of a hot dad wanted to date me who am I to say no? Lol great work!!!!

Cw: fem reader! jealousy, possessive/obsessive tendencies, Quio and Miki butting heads, the plot thickens

Synopsis no.2: 【featuring you being caught in the middle between your coworker and employer literally and figuratively. Miki obviously hates your employer and makes it well known meanwhile Quio does the same vice versa. The Dilf tried his best to put his and Peina’s plan of seducing you into action. But he’s constantly getting interrupted. And He’s honestly so close to snapping at this point.】

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“I wish you’d stop by here more often after all you’re already part of the family."

The Dilf sighs melodramatically, electing a small giggle from your lips. Seeing how he acted so distraught due to your absence. While he led you and your coworker to the living room, gesturing for you to take a seat on the couch.

“Oh that’s kind of you to say Mr. Evinis but I can’t possibly impose on you guys. Plus I’ve still gotta work my boring office job”

You replied with a mirthful tone at his sweet comment truly feeling as if you’ve made a second home within your employers household. You’ve already grown accustomed to his friendly work staff and of course his darling daughter who was l always clinging onto you like a baby kitten. And the fact that her father was so chivalrous and kind didn’t help your own little crush from forming on the single dad.

“Oh perish the thought sugarling~ we’re lucky enough to even be blessed by your radiant grace. In this boring household.”

Quio reassures with a charming smile, as he makes sure to fluff up some fancy decor pillows for his lovely lady. After placing the plush pillows down where you’d sit, He then put a hand on your shoulder giving a comforting squeeze.

“In fact me and the little squirt have always gotten excited at seeing you pull up and we’d be more than happy to keep you hostage here if possible”

The Dilf admits in a cheesy manner, which made you feel at ease. From how sweet his insistence at you dropping by often to hang out was. Being none the wiser to how he was being 100% serious. About the part where him and his daughter briefly molled over the idea of keeping their lovely nanny hostage at their mansion. Since they honestly couldn’t get enough of how addicting your sunshine liken presence.

Lit up every dark lonesome corner of the estate and they’d be damned if they every let you get a chance to escape from their sights. brandishes a pearly grin at the thought of being able to cater personally to his future missus.

“Also if your boring office job is what’s holding you back from spending quality time with us then I can think of a couple solutions to—“

“Um, let me stop you right there man. Whatever you’re pitching would be nice and all but I need my work wife.”

Once again you missed the small micro transgression within the Dilf’s facial features as his eye twitched at the irksome interruption done by that worthless dickbag.

“Aha work wife? With someone like you? I see you’re the type to joke around huh?”

He replied in an tone of condescension giving Miki a mean spirited smile. And an idle glance over full of scorn at the self assured confidence in this boy, who was proclaiming that his darling was his work wife.

“Well I am quite the jokester—wait what the hell do you mean by someone like me??”

You nearly busted out laughing at how Miki got a miffed expression on his face from the subtle dig done by the famous actor. You didn’t necessarily claim to be Miki’s work wife as nice as his company was. He was an utter shitty coworker to have when you’re trying to get shit done. Whenever you two were paired it’d be him cracking jokes while you were working like an effective machine.

“Well If anything they’re my work wife, no my wife, since yknow she’s looking after my kid like the little darling angel she is”

Quio nearly purred with a sharp edge to his voice as he blatantly rubbed it in Miki’s face the sheer difference. Between the two of them and how he was ultimately more important in your standings.

“Anit that right sweetness?”

The single dad hummed with a sickening sweet expression that resembled a hopeful doe eyed buck. His shouldering eyes never failed to make your heart do kick flips from how they always seemed to focus on purely you. Almost as if you were his world, his missing half. You got extremely flustered that you could barely even respond to his words. Until Miki let out a sneer and fixed his apparent love rival a shrewd scowl.

“Oh please as if! She’s your Nanny, not your substitute wife. Plus I already called dibs on her first, my guy.”

The sight of that damned flea mansplaining on the couch with the slinging over his arm right behind your head. Made Quio imagine ripping that same offending arm from our his socket and bitch slapping him with it.

“Dibs? Are you insinuating that she’s an object to be possessed by the likes of a peasant like you?”

He taunts snarkily, dropping his nice guy facade as makes his way to sit right in between you and Miki. Squeezing his bulky frame in the middle of the couch he gracefully crosses his legs as he swats off the offending arm behind your head and replaces it with his own.

“Tch! Now you know that’s not what I meant. It’s always you actors spinning fabricated lies. And the fuck did you just—“

“Miki don’t you think that it’s time for you to go soon? You’re gonna be late for work”

You interjected seeing how things were getting out of hand between the two offending men. Quio merely gave a smug smile as he saw Miki begrudgingly get up with an scowl on his face. You were right he had to go soon since he couldn’t be late for his promotion into higher management. He didn’t tell you that yet because he wanted to surprise you on the day you both worked the same shift.

“Ah fuck your right, thanks for the reminder what would I do without my precious work wife?”

Miki emphasized loudly, Shooting a glare towards the A-listed actor as he then gave you an abrupt hug goodbye whilst still glowering at the Dilf. The two seemed to be exchanging a clash of mixed silent threats behind your back.

Quio “gently” nudged Miki away from his darling with a hard shove with the pointy tip of his shoe upon his midriff. Making your coworker stumble back with a sharp exhaled grunt escaping his lips. Good, he hoped that fucker gets sore down there. The single dad was always about getting his get back by being petty whenever someone blatantly tried to piss him off.

“Alright that’s enough Casanova wouldn’t wanna keep your bosses waiting yeah?”

The Dilf chirped in a sweet noncommittal manner as he briefly pulled you into a side hug. As if to cleanse you from the poor touch Miki had given you. Miki had to bite back his tongue since he really couldn’t afford to waste time with the man’s shenanigans. And rolled his eyes he could only afford to shoot you a word of warning with concern shining in his eyes before he made his way outside of the million dollar manor.

“Be careful… You know how actors are, always so full of shit. Call me when you’re done I’ll come to pick you up okay?”

“Yeah yeah, don’t let the door hit cha on ya on the way out Miki”

Quio sassed as he couldn’t wait to have that cocky fucker out of sight and out of mind. There were so many times where the actor came close to acting out. One of his many aspiring roles which consisted of him being a deranged serial killer. It would’ve gave him peace of mind to choke out that lanky shithead and watch the life leave his eyes.

But he had better things to do at the moment rather than drone in about how he’d murder Miki in cold blood. Like wooing you over for instance which was unfortunately put on pause due to a pest intent on getting in the way between you and him. So he feels a sense of relief wash over him as Miki leaves, knowing that he can finally have you all to himself.

“It seems like you two get along well enough already”

You caught the Dilf off guard with your off handed comment as he gave you a raised brow and an apprehensive smile. He shook his head slightly and gave a dark chuckle at how naive you were to perceive their little spat to be that of a friendly origin. When they clearly wanted to go at each others necks.

“It would seem so… But hey I was wondering if you’d be interested in—“

His phone decided to go off in the most headache inducing way. He could hear the annoying ringtone which indicated that his manager was calling and he bit back a snarl from being interrupted once again. Collecting himself he excused himself from the couch not being fore taking your hand in his and giving it a small chaste kiss as he gave you an apologetic gaze.

“Sorry about this sugarling I’ve gotta take this call I’ll be right back”

With his servants taking leave at his behest today was the day he planned on tying the metaphorical knot with the cute Nanny that stole both his and his little girl’s heart. So his manager had better got a pretty damn good reason for bugging him on his day of vacation leave. Or else they’ll get added to the hitlist alongside that damned coworker of yours.

。

。

。

I’m thinking of making this into a mini series, let me know if I should continue!o(≧v≦)o

[sameschmidtdiffname]

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

[brokenmenswhore]

betrothals & brothels | aegon, aemond, & jace

part 4

pairings: aegon targaryen x stark fem!reader, aemond targaryen x stark fem!reader, jacaerys velaryon x stark fem!reader

series summary: aemond targaryen tells the realm that you, the lady of house stark, are to wed him and secure a partnership in the north. in protest, you agree to marry jacaerys velaryon, affirming the north’s allegiance to rhaenyra. when the news hits king’s landing, aegon decides it’s better to have you under his watchful eye until the political partnership is solidified, but doesn’t realize you have a life away from your duty as a stark

chapter warnings: smut!! (MDNI 18+), slapping (non-sexual, brief)

a/n: alright y’all, i think i’m gonna make this thing 6 parts? i’m really shit at writing ongoing fics because i never know how to wrap ‘em up but i storyboarded it i’m thinking we’re halfway through riiiight NOW

series masterlist

────── ☾ ──────

“Seven hells, are you alright?” the Madam asked, “you look like hell.”

You scanned the room, only calming down when you were sure there were no recognizable faces, specifically Targaryens, in the vicinity.

“I was just locked in a dungeon cell, thank you for asking,” you responded, making it clear that your annoyance was at your predicament, not at her.

“A dungeon?”

“His Grace does not favor my sharp tongue.”

The Madam’s eyes widened. “My Lady, do you mean to tell me you are in trouble with His Grace King Aegon?”

You mentally cursed. You wholly forgot that this woman had no idea of your reasoning for being in King’s Landing, having left any unnecessary piece of information out of your employment deal.

She saw your frustration, and decided not to pester the question further. “I suppose you would fancy something to calm the senses?”

You gave her a soft smile, accepting the cup the moment it was handed over to you. Taking one giant gulp of liquid courage, you said, “I need you to allow me to reside here for a while. I fear this may be the only place I’m safe.”

“I do feel obliged to tell you that I cannot guarantee His Grace never come here again. His brother, Prince Aemond, is a frequent visitor of this establishment. This may very well not be the safest place for you.”

You knew Aemond came here. You had followed him in here upon your first visitation. You also knew it couldn’t be too difficult to avoid him if you tried.

“Just a few nights, then,” you bargained, “until I find something more permanent.”

“Is the situation truly so urgent?” the Madam questioned in concern.

“May we speak in private?” you asked.

The Madam pulled you to a private room and closed the door. You explained the entirety of your situation, sure to leave in each and every gruesome detail that further proved how urgent this truly was. She listened in awe, unaware of all that had been happening in the Red Keep. She knew that Aemond, a frequent visitor of hers, had announced a betrothal, but Aemond had told her it was purely political, and to not ask any further questions on the matter. Therefore, the Madam never thought to ask who the proposal of marriage was intended for. The Stark name never raised any flags for the Madam, and she never thought anything of it.

The Madam agreed to let you rest in one of the typically unoccupied rooms toward the back of the brothel, in exchange for openness of your clientele. It still remained somewhat selective, the Madam not allowing anyone from the North near you, and of course, no Targaryen men.

You discarded the Targaryen gown the moment you were alone, happier with what was underneath. It was still quite a lot, covering most of your body, but its appearance did not strike one as wealthy.

✶

Any affection Aemond was beginning to hold for you was swiftly removed from his heart the moment he saw your cell unoccupied and the door swung open. He enjoyed a challenge, but even you were beginning to be too much for him. He was beginning to fancy you, and he was jealous of how you treated Jacaerys compared to how you treated him. He knew that, regardless of his emotions, you were the only person who made him feel like he met his match.

However, he was growing tired of the games. If you truly detested him so much, what was the point of all his efforts? He suspected why you asked him for access to the brothels; he had heard the rumors about you at night in the North. Was he truly ready to set his pride aside and marry a whore, even with a title?

He decided that while you may be his betrothed, you were no longer his responsibility. If you fought against this match, there was no point in him fighting for it. He was not even sure he truly wanted it anymore. The family certainly outgrew the need for it; the moment Aemond accepted that you truly had found a way out of your cell, he knew another northern alliance may be necessary. Houses Bolton, Mormont, and Glover had bent the knee to Aegon after a mere show of force from Aemond atop Vhagar. While none were quite as large or as powerful as House Stark, they would do well as northern allies.

Aemond chose to remain calm and collected and do his best to forget you and your attitude ever existed. Aegon, however, coped in other ways.

Aegon liked your quick wit. Though all you did was bicker, Aegon couldn’t help but remember his moment of vulnerability with you. You could have walked away, but you comforted him, despite being so adamant about hating him. He was mean to you because you were mean to him and it hurt his feelings, not because he truly did loathe you, despite what he had told you the very last time you two had spoken.

You were defensive, confident, outspoken- all the things Aegon truly wished in the depths of his heart that he could be, but knew deep down he wasn’t. Aegon desperately wanted to appear as confident and cocky, the smartest in the room, but most could see through the facade, including you. He hated how vulnerable you could make him feel. He loved how it felt when you saw that vulnerability, and chose kindness instead of cruelty. You were everything he wanted to be. You were everything he wanted.

Aegon was fueled by rage immediately after learning of your escape. He sent the King’s Guard through the streets of King’s Landing in search of you. He slammed his fists on tables and bellowed toward his brother, demanding to know where Aemond had taken you when he let you free, but Aemond would not confess, lest he leak his own private details.

The men of the King’s Guard were only employed as such due to their friendship with Aegon, and many had not actually seen you, and admittedly were not sure what you looked like.

Aegon, furious and drunk, had also made the mistake of describing you in the clothes they had provided at the time of your imprisonment, the thought that you may have taken the gown off never crossing his mind.

The men of the Guard had asked around a few brothels, but most became distracted and threw away their task in favor of a pretty girl. You were not nervous when you heard the clanging of armor, for you knew that most of these men couldn’t identity you with a name tag.

The King’s Guard was forced, after two days of searching the streets, to report to Aegon that they had no sign of you whatsoever. Aegon considered that you may have taken passage on a ship to Essos, perhaps somewhere further, but doubted that you would so easily forget Winterfell. He thought of flying there, but knew you had no way to get back home. He also thought you had no way of escaping the dungeons, and he had a consistent habit of underestimating you.

It had been nearly a full moon since Aegon and Aemond last saw you. Aemond refused to revoke your betrothal due to his own pride, at least until he could find a suitable alternative.

Aegon thought of you often, but tried to keep the thoughts at bay. He fought to not let it impact how he ruled, but his friends in the King’s Guard most certainly noticed the change in his demeanor.

They convinced him that he needed a proper night out, him and his best mates drowning in cups and whores, leaving their daily lives behind and choosing pleasure over pain for a night. Aegon agreed, knowing he truly needed to blow off steam.

His friends directed him through three brothels before landing on one, one of the men nearly deafening the room from the sound of his armor as he raised his arms and yelled for libations.

A woman brought a round for the men, taking a bow when she noticed The King. Aegon downed the drink with one swallow, slamming the cup down on the table as he said, “alright, let’s find someone.”

The men cheered, throwing their arms around Aegon’s shoulders as they directed him from room to room.

Aegon himself pushed back a curtain and stopped short, the shock of the sight rendering him unable to move.

You were standing tall, nearly naked, a man with curly brown hair knelt on the floor in front of you, his head between your legs and your hands in his hair.

You were used to people interrupting for a moment, in desperate search of an unoccupied room, so you didn’t even turn toward the sound. The man between your legs, however, pulled back and, upon seeing Aegon, knelt fully over on the floor, his hands out in front of him in a deep yoga-like bow.

You watched him in confusion before turning your head to see who he was pointed toward.

You were panting, skin slightly glistening from sweat, a tiny hint of shock that Aegon had never seen before in your eye.

Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. You just stood and stared at one another as the rest of the men in the vicinity noticed the tension and hastily cleared out.

Once you two were alone, you insisted on speaking first. “Your Grace,” you mimicked a curtsy, sarcasm coating your words.

Aegon took a deep breath, trying his hardest to collect himself. He was feeling a mixture of emotions: shock at the sight of you still in King’s Landing after nearly a full moon’s cycle, anger at you for escaping and running away, confusion at what you were doing fucking in a pleasure house, and most prominently, he was turned on at the sight of you.

“You’re still in King’s Landing,” was the best he could come up with.

“I’ve been trying to make arrangements back to Winterfell,” you said, picking up your small clothes from the floor and covering yourself as you spoke, “but unfortunately, the easiest route is via dragon, yet only a select few here have dragons, and I didn’t wish for them to know my whereabouts.”

“And now that they do?”

You sighed, finishing clothing your body with your small clothes and a robe as you stood tall once again. “I should hope I can count on their discretion.”

Aegon snickered, “and what makes you think you can? Did you forget what you did?”

“I only had to escape because you imprisoned me. Did you forget that?”

Silence filled the room. Aegon felt a bit bad for imprisoning you, and wasn’t sure where the conversation was headed. He instead changed the subject to what truly peaked his curiosity.

“What are you doing here?” he questioned.

You could lie. You could tell him anything that made even an inkling of sense, but you were living room-by-room in a brothel, no surefire way to get home, two men vying for your hand and only one honest, and you, quite honestly, had nothing to lose.

“I work here,” you shrugged as if the confession meant nothing.

Aegon laughed genuinely. He continued to laugh until he caught your gaze and noticed your features were stoic. “You’re not serious?”

“I know you’ve heard the whispers about me, Aegon, you cannot truly be so shocked.”

“You were going to wed my brother without your maidenhood? Was your plan to play pretend as if it hurt?”

“If you recall, I never had any intention of marrying your brother,” you retorted.

“Is this where he took you?” Aegon pressed further, the questions falling off his tongue the moment they popped into his head, his brain seemingly not able to keep up with the pacing of new questions appearing in his thoughts.

“The details of any time I spent with Aemond are none of your business.”

“They are, aren’t they?” he continued, finally taking a few steps closer to you, “did he take you here to fuck you? Did he want to ensure you could never truly belong to our little nephew?”

“No,” you scoffed. You did not owe him details. “He does not have my maidenhood, nor has he ever had me. I would hope you think higher of me.”

“You think you’re so strong, but I see right through you,” Aegon began, as close to you as he could be without physically touching you, “you and Aemond came here to fuck, and when you ran away, you came back here because it’s the only place you knew of. You were desperate for passage to Winterfell, and you needed coin to afford such a journey, hence the employment here.”

Aegon was confident in his accusation, which is what made it hilarious enough for you to audibly laugh.

“I truly wish you understood how ridiculously incorrect you are,” you said through laughs, your hand coming up to cover your mouth to hopefully mute the sound and cure Aegon of some of his embarrassment.

“Don’t laugh at me,” he spoke.

“You think I fucked your brother?” you continued, your laughter growing at the thought.

“Stop laughing at me,” he said again.

“You are so far off,” you could barely catch your breath, you were nearly leaning over from the intensity of the laugh in your stomach.

“I said don’t laugh at me!” he raised his voice, a hand coming to strike your face.

You immediately stopped, standing up straight in disbelief as your hand instinctively held the side of your face. He had hit you. All bets were off now. You did not care about striking a royal if he struck you first.

You moved to hit him back, but he quickly caught your wrists, anticipating the action. You were caught off guard, unaware he could move so swiftly. He swung your body around, slamming your back against the nearest wall, your wrists in his hands as they pressed against your chest.

You stared at each other in a moment of heat before he crashed his lips to yours. Your body took over your mind as you kissed him back, relishing in the feeling of his body pressed against yours.

All of the arguing, crying, shouting, and vitriol between the two of you had crescendoed up to this very release.

Aegon dropped your wrists and instead found your waist, grabbing the flesh there to pull you even closer to him as your hands found their way to the back of his head, fingers intertwining in his hair. He groaned into the kiss at the feeling, prompting you to pull even harder. Neither of you were gentle people, and now was not the time to try to be.

Aegon pulled one of your legs up to his waist, allowing you to feel his clothed hardness against your core. Aegon used his other hand to, with immense difficulty, untie your robe as he continued to kiss you with a fiery passion.

He only pulled his mouth away from you to push your robe open, allowing him to see your body, covered only by your small clothes. He breathed heavily, head down, gazing at you for longer than you would have guessed before he returned his lips to your neck, sucking a sweet spot just below your earlobe. You whined in response, and the sound drove Aegon mad.

Aegon moved the hand unoccupied with holding your leg up down to your core, rubbing over your small clothes. There was an evident wet spot that brutally reminded Aegon that there had been another man in between your legs just minutes ago. It also didn’t escape his thoughts that the man had longer, darker, curly hair and prominent features, much like Jacaerys.

Consumed in his thoughts, he pulled away from you, and you could tell something was wrong as he felt the wetness.

“Uh uh,” you snapped him out of his thoughts, “that wasn’t there before.”

Aegon nodded in understanding, grateful that you automatically knew what was bothering him, and slightly intimidated by that fact.

Aegon toyed with the waistband of your small clothes before dipping his fingers beneath them, eliciting a small whimper from your lips as he went back to sucking on your neck.

Aegon ran a finger between your folds, collecting the wetness there before slowly inserting a finger into your hole. Despite the ferocity of the situation, Aegon refused to miss an opportunity to hear the sounds you made when he moved excruciatingly slow.

Above all else, Aegon had an irrevocable desire to be needed and wanted. He loved to make his whores beg, even if it wasn’t genuine, because he could convince himself he was needed to satisfy them. He desperately wanted to see you vulnerable and begging, but you were too headstrong. He knew hearing any version of ‘please’ come from your lips would be damn near impossible. Damn near was good enough for him to try.

He watched your face contort as he pushed his finger in and out, curling when he hit a particularly sweet spot in your walls. You were whiny and breathy, head back against the wall, but that wasn’t enough for Aegon. He added another finger, the ring that adorned it leaving a cold sensation with each pump.

He kept his head on your shoulder, but was no longer kissing you, instead opting to rest his cheek there, gazing up at you as he watched what he was doing to you.

When he hit that special spot, your eyebrows creased, and he continued hitting that very spot so long as your face gave away how good it felt.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, your face beginning to turn a slight hint of red from the heat of it all.

“Not so tough now, are you?” he whispered in your ear.

You choked through strangled moans, “I’m still in control of myself,” and you meant it. If you truly wanted this to stop, or if you truly wanted to be more dominant, you knew you could.

“Doesn’t seem as such,” he replied, fucking you even faster with his fingers and giving himself a small, prideful smile.

He was moving in and out fast now, sounds of your wetness filling the empty space as you braved yourself against his shoulders. You were becoming lost in the pleasure, but you were too stubborn not to have the last word. “You think- fuck- you think I’m not?”

You pulled his hand away from you. It was mostly because you didn’t want to come quite yet, but you were happy to let him believe it was entirely for a show of power. Aegon was surprised, having felt your walls begin to squeeze his fingers just moments before.

You took his moment of surprise as an opportunity to grab his wrist and lead him over to the bed, pushing on his shoulders until he fell backward, the backs of his legs hitting the bed frame and dangling off the bed as he laid.

You considered pleasuring him briefly, and you could see he was hard beneath his breeches as he looked at you expectantly.

You untied and tugged at his breeches, pulling them down until he was only in his small clothes. You then knelt down in between his legs as he propped himself up on his elbows to watch you pull his small clothes down, place a teasing kiss on his inner thigh, and then stand up as if you had no intention of touching his most needy area.

Aegon stared at you, evidently disappointed at the loss of contact.

“Uh uh uh, you haven’t earned that. You don’t deserve it,” you spoke in reference to giving him the oral pleasure he expected.

Aegon tried to snap back at you in protest, but you caught his lips with your own, climbing atop him and straddling his hips. The friction of your clothed heat on his bare length was driving him crazy. He leaned forward to deepen the kiss, gripping your hips as he began to grind up against you, desperate for some kind of contact. He whined into the kiss as he did so, and despite your better judgement, you let him use your body for the moment.

When you had enough of him getting what he wanted, you pushed his shoulders until he was pressed back against the mattress again.

You took his cock in your hand, giving it a few strokes before you moved your small clothes to the side, beginning to sink down on his length.

He threw his head back in pleasure, but looked back up at you when you pulled away from him. You maintained eye contact as you began to sink down again, and Aegon took the hint, locking eyes with you as you allowed him to bottom out inside of you.

You sat atop of him for all too long without moving.

“You gonna move?” he asked, desperate.

“Not unless you ask me to.”

Both you and Aegon were in a power play now. It was turning you on even more.

“Should be the other way around,” he breathed out, erratic and heavy.

“I could sit here all day.”

Aegon would never admit it, but he enjoyed it when he didn’t have to be in control, and he was only more excited by your dominance.

He sat upwards, his cock shifting within you as his face became level with your breasts. He used one hand to free one of your breasts from the confines of your small clothes, running a finger across your nipple before encapsulating it in his mouth.

The heighten mood calmed, the act of Aegon’s mouth on your breasts causing the fiery lust to shift to pure intimacy.

Aegon sucked at one breast while the hand that wasn’t holding on to your back moved to fondle the other breast. His tongue swiped over your nipple in between sucks, his eyes closing as he lost himself in you. He swiftly removed your remaining small clothes over your head before returning to his previous position, praising your chest with his hands and mouth.

He only pulled away when you tugged at his top, the removal leaving you both fully naked in front of one another.

You moved a hand to the back of his head, gently stroking the hair there as he sucked. His eyes fluttered open and he looked up at you, never detaching from you, lightly moaning into your breast as you made eye contact.

You threw your head back and whimpered, your sighs driving Aegon crazy. Your position was so intimate, his cock inside of you as he sucked your breasts, and watching your pleasure from his mouth on your nipple was nearly enough to make Aegon come.

Aegon tested the waters of your movement, moving his hands to grip your hips and push you upward, prompting you to move slightly.

You allowed his efforts to work, very gently grinding your hips against him and pushing yourself up enough to feel pleasure, but not enough to move your breasts too far away from Aegon’s face.

He noticed, and he didn’t like it. He detached from your nipple, his chin resting on your chest right between your breasts. “Don’t hold back,” he demanded.

“I don’t take orders from you.”

You smiled so that he knew you were still playing with him, not genuinely mad. You figured he would continue this back and forth game, but instead, his vulnerability showed through. “Please.”

He was looking up at you through hooded eyes as your hips moved back and forth against him, his gaze glassy and desperate. He was prepared to beg.

“Please what?” you asked, teasing him further.

“Please don’t hold back. Please, I need you to not hold back. I need you.”

His pleading was enough for you. You began to lift your hips higher, your knees bending with each drop of your hips. Aegon reattached his lips to your breasts, challenging himself to hold on with his mouth as they began to bounce.

Aegon couldn’t help himself, he started to thrust up into you as much as he could in his upright position. It wasn’t much, but with the combination of you riding him, the movement was enough to make you sweat.

You held Aegon’s head against your breasts, your fingers intertwining themselves through the strands of his hair, lightly pulling when he gave a small bite to the flesh of your breasts.

He looked up at you and smiled. You thought the moment would be brief, but instead of immediately continuing his demonstrations, he kept watching you as you rode him.

You knew what he wanted. He wanted to see what he was doing to you, he wanted to be the reason for your pleasure- he wanted to feel needed. It’s why he was moving so slowly with his thrusts: you knew he wanted you to ask for more.

You leaned down and kissed Aegon, the kiss more intimate and personal than previously. You pushed him slightly as you leaned forward, allowing him to lay down as you lay on top of him, the position making it much easier for him to rock upward into you.

Instead, he stopped moving.

You flattened your palms against the bed on either side of Aegon’s head. “Give up already?” you teased.

“I’m not moving until you beg me.”

You scoffed. “I could just get up, Aegon.”

“Don’t,” he protested, still needy, “I wouldn’t believe you truly wanted to, if you did.”

“Aegon, move,” you said, needy yourself, soaking wet and much too ready to be fucked hard.

“Beg me.”

“Do you truly think me-“

“Beg me,” he said, his tone growing dark.

“You don’t scare me.”

Aegon fisted a hand in your hair, pulling your head backward as he placed a kiss on your neck, biting down hard on the skin. You hissed at the pain. “I said beg me.”

You decided to give in, but not quite how he anticipated. “Do that again,” you said.

Aegon bit down on your neck again, sucking on the now-bruised skin to soothe the pain right after. “That’s not enough.”

You sighed. “I don’t beg anyone for anything.”

Aegon’s hand harshly slapped your ass, jolting you upward in surprise, causing you to move on his cock. He grabbed your jaw in his hands, forcefully positioning your head so you were looking directly at him. “Fucking beg me.”

His tone was too much for you. You didn’t want to completely break your walls down, but it was too hot. You wanted him bad. You wanted to give in.

“I need you to fuck me Aegon,” you whined, “I want you to fuck me. Please.”

Aegon growled and kissed you hard, one hand moving to press down on the small of your back as he lifted and dropped his hips.

“F-fuck,” you moaned, the consistency of his strokes a brand new feeling, and so, so good.

Aegon kissed you to swallow your moans. You bit gently on his bottom lip, pulling slightly as you looked into his eyes, the feeling causing his eyes to blow out with lust.

He began to fuck you ruthlessly, moving in and out of you as fast as he possibly could, your back instinctively trying to straighten in an effort to brace yourself, but Aegon’s hand was pressing down too much on your back to keep you in place.

He grabbed both of your wrists, swiftly moving them behind your back as he held both with one hand, the other gripping the flesh of your ass to help move you against his sharp, vicious thrusts.

You could wriggle out of his grasp, or even purely strengthen yourself out of it, but you didn’t want to. It all felt too good, and you relished in the feeling of men taking control of you in bed. It was rare the men earned it, and right now, it felt right.

Your body was rocking back and forth against Aegon, and you were no longer able to control any way that your body was moving. You were completely at Aegon’s discretion. You contemplated if it was smart to trust him with your body, but you could tell he needed your body just as much as you needed his.

His hips were snapping against yours at a violent rate, his grip on your ass almost certainly preparing to leave a bruise.

“A- Aeg-“ you started, the words losing themselves on your tongue.

“Fuck, yes, say my name,” he begged.

“Ae- Aegon!” you cried out, nearly squealing.

“Sounds so good when you say it,” he spoke through erratic, hectic breaths, his forehead glistening with sweat as he used you to get himself off, fucking his cock in and out of you as fast as he could.

“Shit, Aegon, I- I can’t-“

Aegon threw his head back, the mere idea of you nearly coming causing his cock to twitch. He couldn’t wait to know how good your walls squeezing against him would feel.

He kept his head back against the bed, using the pressure to anchor himself as he tried to move faster and faster, if it was even possible.

You took the opportunity to kiss his neck, sucking a sweet spot just below his earlobe.

“Fuck,” he moaned, the intensity of the sex mixed with the intimacy of your kisses causing him to worry that he would come first if you didn’t come momentarily.

“Need- need you to come,” he begged, “wanna feel you first.”

“I’m gonna,” you responded, his neediness pushing you closer and closer to the edge as you squeezed his cock like a vice.

Your high crashed over you, your legs shaking from the intensity of your orgasm.

Aegon kept up his ruthless pace, chasing his own high. The feeling of your orgasm mixed with the feeling of your legs shaking around his hips was too much for him, his final few thrusts hard enough to bruise your skin as he shot his seed inside of you.

His cock twitched as his body relaxed against the bed.

You used all of your strength to sit up and move one leg upward, swinging yourself off of his lap and collapsing on your back next to him.

“Aegon, did you just- inside of-“

“We have remedies, don’t worry. I’m sorry, you just felt too good.”

You both laid in silence for a moment, breathing and energy recovering from the ferocity of the sex as you both thought of what you had just done.

“I can’t return to the Red Keep,” you said, breaking the silence, your thoughts consuming you as you almost couldn’t help yourself but ruin the moment.

“I have no intention of forcing you to,” Aegon replied.

“You would allow yourself to take your leave as if you did not see me here today?” you clarified.

“I do not wish for Aemond to experience what I have just,” said Aegon, “if he knows of where you reside, he will continue to force your hand.“

“Was such a match not your idea?”

“It was,” he admitted, “but it is no longer necessary. I am acquainted with you now, and things are-“ his voice trailed off, and he was searching for the correct word, “different.”

“How so?”

Aegon turned to look at you, your eyes locked together momentarily before Aegon sat upward. “I must return,” was all he said before collecting his clothes and exiting the room.

────── ☾ ──────

tags: @torchbearerkyle @dracaryxzs @hangmanscoming @callsignwidow @velvetcrowbarcherry @kravitzwhore @darlingisntit @not-neverland06 @albionfay @cluz1babe @flusteredmoonn @sab-falco @ajanauia

[ja3hwa]

♡ 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐑𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤 | 𝐂.𝐒 ♡

【Synopsis】 : All you've ever known is to run. And now you have someone worth standing still for.

『Word count』 : 920

-> Genre: Dystopian. Ateez Lore-ish. Hint of Romance. SFW

Pairing: Freedomfighter!San x Runner!Reader

[Warnings] : Swearing. Government bullshit. Dystopian and apocalyptic themes. Hint of past love. Being in trouble by cops and what nots, hehe.

Note: I was cleaning out my drafts and found this old thing. I had written it when Guerrilla first dropped. So I decided to finish it off (kinda). idk if I'd ever make more. But who knows, maybe i will, hehe. Also love to mention no clue what past me was trying to write. So enjoy ♡♡

Networks: @blossomnet @atzhouse @wonderlandnet

Masterlist | Navigation

Running was something you were born to do. It was like the moment you could get your feet on the ground you ran. Skip the crawling or wobble walking towards the open arms of your parents, being so proud to see their baby take their first steps. No, you decided running the was an option you would choose the minute you were able. And this is how you ended up in this exact predicament. Running…

Running from one of the most feared governmental dick heads. You had one job, stealing some documents about the tall walls that surrounded the large city. Simple right? The person who hired you wanted to expose the truth about the government. The truth, that the apocalypse only happened because someone in a top-secret lab wasn’t careful enough. And now society needed to live in large walled cities and towns to protect themselves from the wastelands. No one knew much about the outer border, let alone what indeed was outside the safety of the walls. And that’s where your employer comes in. A man that went by left eye. Personally, you thought it was a strange name, but you aren't getting paid for judging names. You hopped over another building roof, just barely managing to shake two of the big guards that chased you. But one was still hot on your tail and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t seem to lose him.

You leapt over another roof before sliding down a fire escape staircase. You were in a dark alley with the only lights coming from the street at the end of it. You needed a place to hide cause even though you were born to run, you really needed a rest.

“Hey In Here.” A mellow voice called from behind a metal door that happened to be hidden among the wall decore, seeming to camouflage itself. You thought for a moment. Either you keep running and potentially get caught or you risk going with the strange voice behind an even stranger door.

“I think they went this way.” You hear the two guards you lost minutes ago call out from above.

Stranger it is.

You ran to the door, quickly slipping inside before anyone could see you. The tall person who was behind the voice closed the large metal entrance, locking it with a bunch of padlocks and chains. He had a hood on to keep his face covered, but a sense of ease washed over you being around him. His presence somewhat familiar.

“Quick, this way.” He guided to down the small hall, his hand gripping your wrist so you wouldn’t lose one another in the maze of twists and turns. His palm was tough like he worked with them every day. Tattoos travelled up his arm, disappearing under the large pastel blue cloak he was wearing. He was tall, dark and mysterious, you’ll give him that.

“Okay, we should be safe here. The others are out right now, so I… I gotta lot of explaining when they get back.” His light harded chuckle made a wave of relief pour over you. His cloak slipped off his face, showing his beautiful features to you. Your breath finally escaped from your lungs, you hadn't even realised you were holding it until this very moment. His was indeed familiar, and it was only until he smiled in your direction that you figured out who he was.

“San? As in Choi San?” You gasped. His expression told you he was just as surprised as you were, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. He avoided eye contact for a moment, trying to think of something to say.

“You remember me?”

“Remember you! You were—” Your heart screamed for you to say the love of my life, best friend, the only person who stuck by me when we were in the orphanage. But your brain decided it was best to avoid awkwardness since it had been over seven years since you’d last seen him. “You were my friend. Of course, I remember you."

“Well, I’m glad I kept an impression on you.” He smiled, showing a calm and cool nature. Even though his heart was about to jump out of his chest and he swears the world just became fuzzy, making it harder for him to stand. He missed you ever since those masked guards took you away to start your higher-up training. He didn’t think he’d ever see you again after that. But here you were, still the same young troublemaker. But only this time, you were even more beautiful than before, how that was possible he couldn’t describe it.

You looked around the large room seeing a poster board with photos of the government agents that were on your list to avoid. Papers riddled with notes and scribbles about information. All of this information was similar to what you had just stolen. The info you had was just a puzzle piece. It finally clicked what San had been up to all these years, making you smile with glee.

"So I didn't think the Choi San would become a freedom fighter..." You turned to look at him again.

"And I didn't think you'd become a runner." His expression matched your own, except his hid concern. Out of anything you could have become, you became a runner. Someone who gathers intel or bounty for a price. He could say he was surprised, but it still raised one question.

who did you work for?

[le-monchou]

we keep behind closed doors || jingyuan

note: i know i am late as hell but i had issues haha. this could also be a big multichapter jing yuan fic but idk. jing yuan my husband yes sir anything for you 🤤🤤🤤|| minors please do not interact with the post || 552 words || kinktober masterlist.

there’s something curious about your latest client. the purest white hair, as fluffy as a lion’s mane, and just as messy with how he stashes money inside of it, and yet having eyes so sharp that the entire world could cut itself on it. he’s silent, used to making requests and demands with his eyes alone, and though you hate the egoistic clients who barely make you come, his ego isn’t as fragile as he makes it out to be. “hello, dearest.” is how he always starts before you hear the familiar jingling of a pant drop, jewellery, belt and all. 

“hello, sir.” you whisper into the dark, a tentative hand between your legs moving so fast and steady that one could consider you’ve been pavloved into sex and sweat and the ease he brings with him. this man is the only customer who gets you in this kind of mood, after all. “you’ve missed me, i see.” light, lilting- this man has a habit of messing around with you. “i’ve missed you too, dearest. won’t you come closer?” 

there is no more ‘closer’ to come to, not without losing this job, you want to say, but honestly? this is a shitty job, and men like him are 1 in a 1000, so you shuffle on your knees, biting your lip at the friction as the door opens and you close your eyes out of habit. “there’s my dearest. keep those beautiful eyes closed just like that.” the man murmurs as he ties a silk band around your eyes before covering your body with the thin robe offered by your employer. 

“now, my dearest.” he starts, kissing your cheek before hooking your robe in his hands, “do i have your permission?” you nod, unsure about where this was supposed to be going, nervous about getting in trouble, but all that fades when the man kisses your neck and inches his way towards your chest, kissing and biting your skin as his hands make his way to your hips. “when you tell me to stop, i shall. not a word more i need from you. if you do enjoy it, just let me hear you, dearest.” you nod, sighing as he massages your sore body before pushing you onto your back gently, laying you on the finest silk before gently inserting a wet finger into your cunt. 

“this i had been waiting to do for ages, dearest.” he sighs as he inserts another gently, bending over to kiss your cheek, neck and chest, littering them with bites that you knew would blossom like the forbidden red lillies in the dark. eventually, he speeds up the pace as he finds the spot that gives you the most pleasure, and as you climax, you feel his hair graze you gently like the exquisite silk curtains many women say grace the rooms of the luofu general’s home along with your work name whispered like praise instead something so shameful and dirty like most men make it out to be. 

and as you lay on the silk cloak, catching your breath, he waves your- in no less terms- owner over, and says simply, “i will buy their freedom. consider all their debts paid, and for any discrepancies… well, you may contact the general of the xianzhou luofu.”

[ace-turned-confused]

shiftin' gear | part two

joel masterlist | series masterlist

pairing: mechanic!joel x f!reader series outline: a slacker of a boyfriend, no job, and now your car needs serious maintenance. heading to the mechanic’s, you’re just expecting him to rid you of your car troubles and move on ��� you’re certainly not expecting him to change your life chapter summary: with big decisions to make, life throws you a curveball that leads you to joel again word count: 3,2k warnings: 18+ only, reader is able-bodied, boyfriend is still useless & also a prick, minor injury & blood, my car knowledge™️, bit of a cry & breakdown sesh, age gap (23/50), smutty thoughts, allusions to f masturbation a/n: thank you @frannyzooey for all the help & encouraging words when reading this over 😚❤️

A month has passed since you first met Joel Miller and you haven’t gone to see him since. You certainly wanted to, but couldn’t bring yourself to go there under the excuse of a lie, or the alternative of admitting you went just because you could. Every time you turn your car’s ignition, a small part of you hopes that another light will flicker on the dashboard, but so far that dream hasn’t been fulfilled.

A month since you met Joel Miller but three months since you and Jake last slept together. The few times you’ve come close, you end up giving him an excuse. At first, you simply couldn’t be bothered to put so much effort in, claiming you were tired. But lately, it’s because you’re thinking of Joel — what it’d look like having his hand dipping into your panties, how his mouth would feel on you, how you’d burn up watching him take himself out his pants.

Which is not ideal when Joel isn’t the one trying to do those things.

Jake’s been putting more pressure on you to see him more regularly again and it’s laborious, draining, constantly needing to put on this cheerful persona around him — you’re never able to mope around or yell or cry just for the sake of it. Truthfully, you’ve been trying to work out for a long time now how to go about breaking up with him.

His reaction to why you had quit your job had catapulted this even further. I’m sure the guy was a deserving candidate. You can’t just quit because someone better than you got the job. Not asking how you felt, not asking for details, simply not caring. He still had the nerve to ask if you were staying the night after that, and that’s when you dropped the conversation. Your employment hadn’t been brought up again.

As brief as it was, you found great comfort in talking to Joel about it — not once did he tell you you’d made a mistake, or that you’d regret it down the line. Just knowing he’s there to listen is more than what you have right now. 

Maybe you should stop by sometime.

-

You have plans to see Jake tonight, and you’re undecided on whether or not you should finally cut ties with him. You’re dressed in a square-neck navy top and black pants that hug your hips and thighs amazingly. Sure, you might end the night by breaking a boy’s heart — though, you’re not sure he’ll feel much emotion other than confusion — but this might be the one thing that’ll keep you feeling good about yourself right now.

Stopping off to get a few small items at the grocery store, the parking lot is mostly empty by the time you walk out. As you reach your car again, you see one of your back tires is almost completely flat. Dropping your bags, you seethe with anger – it feels like one fucking thing after another. 

Taking a breath, you calm yourself down and start unpacking the toolkit from your boot. Car jack, lug wrench, some… other tool that’s used for something — it can’t be that important. You run the process over in your head — it’s just changing a tire, how difficult can it be?

Crouched down on your knees, you’ve partially loosened the lug nuts on the wheel and are busy jacking up your car when your mind drifts off to Joel. He’d probably do this for you and you wouldn’t even argue with him — you couldn’t look away the first time he worked on your car, and you doubt that’ll ever change.

Maybe he’d be surprised you can do this, maybe he’d be impressed. Maybe he’d tell you you’re too pretty to change a tire and get your clothes dirty. You’d laugh it off, but you might just believe him.

You can’t picture Jake saying that to you — you can’t remember the last time he even gave you an honest compliment and meant it, not something backhanded, not something that elevates him higher than you. 

What’s sadder is that it doesn’t upset you anymore.

Changing a tire is easy enough in theory, but this is the first time you’ve actually done it yourself and Jesus Christ it’s more taxing than you anticipated. You’re sweaty, out of breath, and you’re sure you’ve pulled a muscle. In the depths of your daydreaming, you lose your grip on the lug wrench and fall forward, scraping your arm on the tar. It stings to no end and blood starts settling in small pools, the surface of your skin covered in a rough mixture of gravel and bits of tar — the last thing you need, but it’ll have to wait.

Tossing the wrench to the ground, it lands with a startling clank, the sound reverberating through your skull. You’re hauling the old wheel into the boot of your car and see a nail, stuck flush in the tire, still shiny and new. You wish you could feel shiny and new again.

Fuck this. You pull out your phone to text Jake.

You: just got a fucking flat tireYou: not coming anymore, sorry

You don’t wait for him to respond and focus on lowering your car again. You consider your options on where to go after this — not particularly wanting to go home so soon to be grilled by your dad, there is one place you can think of.

-

It’s early evening and Joel’s getting ready to close up shop for the day, tools pushed to the side and cash books up to date. Piling up loose papers, he finds the invoice for the brake sets he used on your car and he can’t help but wonder how you’ve been the past month. Each day that passed he hoped you’d show up — maybe something else was wrong with your car, maybe you’d just come to see him for the sake of it, but you never did. He told himself it was better that way.

He’s been keeping himself busy otherwise, teaching Eddie some tricks of the trade and avoiding Hazel. She’s not a bad woman, but he’s made it clear on plenty of occasions that he is not interested, be it a one-night stand or something serious  — then, of course, he met you.

He hasn’t been on a real date in a lifetime, he’s had casual flings here and there, but he’s felt drawn to you right from the start. He just wants to take care of you, give you the treatment you deserve, which you aren’t getting from your boyfriend. Emotionally, physically — whatever you need, whatever you’ll let him do. A part of him hopes you and this Jake boy will eventually break up and you’ll come running into his own arms instead, as selfish as it may be.

He hears a car stop outside and a door slams shut with a thud, pulling him out of his thoughts. Turning around he sees you dragging yourself in from the street, bloody scrapes on your arm and dirt stains on your pant legs. You look tired, rattled.

“Joel? Please can you help me?”

-

Joel’s standing alongside your car, hands on his hips, in the same tight coveralls you saw him wearing a month ago.

“You know you could’ve just called sweetheart, I would’ve come to change it for you.”

“I can change a tire.” Previously, the endearment would’ve made your mind go blank, but you’re tired — tired of Jake, tired of life’s bullshit, tired of everything, and it comes out much harsher than you intended.

Joel doesn’t seem to notice. If he does, he doesn’t comment. He bends down to inspect it and a small part of you hopes he’s impressed by your efforts.

“I can see that, you did a good job of it too.” He tries twisting a lug nut and it doesn’t shift. “Who taught you how to do this?”

“Common sense? It’s not that complicated.”

“You didn’t wanna call your dad or that boyfriend of yours to come and help?”

“My dad would tell me I’m doing it wrong and I’d tell Jake he was doing it wrong. No thanks.”

You stand, arms folded across your chest and give him a tight smile, which fades as fast as it appears. Usually you’d revel in the banter between you, but tonight you can’t find it in yourself to let go.

“Well, I won’t keep you long. I’ll put a new tire on here for you and you’ll be good to go on.”

Your phone rings before you can respond — you tilt the screen and can see it’s Jake. You let out a bitter sigh, not in the mood for the insensitivity and all-round lack of respect you’re bound to get from him. You don’t excuse yourself when you answer, beyond caring what Joel may hear from either of you.

“Yes?”

“Why didn’t you call me, I could’ve come to help.”

“Says the guy who needed the manual to find the lever for the fucking fuel cap.”

“Well, I could’ve fetched you or called someone else.”

“It’s fine, it’s done. I’m getting a new tire fitted anyways, I’m at the mechanic’s right now.”

“Alright, whatever, but it’s not too late — you can still come over, stay the night maybe?”

“I said I’m not coming — my clothes are filthy, I’ve got muscle cramps where I didn’t know I fucking had muscles, and I’m not in the mood Jake. Not tonight.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Joel stills, just for a moment, like that was the last thing he expected to hear from you. You swear you can see his ears redden and you wish you could see the expression on his face.

“Thought you’d have changed your mind by now but okay, I could come over to…”

“I said no. I have to go.”

You end the call and cut his goodbyes short, putting your phone on silent and shoving it back into your pocket. Seeing Joel had lifted your spirits ever so slightly, and now that’s all been undone. You’ve held it together all day but you feel tears start to well in your eyes. You blink furiously, trying your hardest to will them away before it’s too late.

-

“Everything alright?”

Joel stands and turns to face you, repeating his question when you don’t respond and sees you staring ahead, tears streaming down your cheeks. As if on instinct, he moves towards you and wraps his arms around you. He feels your body go rigid and begins to pull back — this was a mistake, he should’ve asked — but as fast as he lets you go you’re pulling him back in, your arms now wrapping around his middle.

Standing with your head buried into his chest, your breaths come out in gasps as you try to stop yourself from crying. He can feel your hands are balled into fists and you’re squeezing your arms like he’s the only thing keeping you grounded, like you’re scared he won’t come back if you let go. Joel’s careful not to put his hands where he really shouldn’t, one between your shoulder blades, the other cradling your head. Everything is not alright, but he doesn’t want to overstep, risk pushing you further down into yourself and further away from him.

“Hey, sweetheart, let’s go sit.”

You don’t object as he moves his hand to the small of your back and walks you into the office. He sits you down on the couch, handing you water from the fridge and you’ve gone silent, eyes drawn to the floor, but your tears have somewhat slowed. He notices blotches of dried blood on the bottom of your shirt and gets up to find some bandages and cotton pads — he knows there’s a first-aid kit somewhere around here.

“Just wanna clean your arm up, that okay?”

You nod your head meekly, still avoiding his eyes. He takes your arm in his hands, twisting it to see the scrapes and grazes in their entirety. He wipes your arm down with an alcohol-soaked cotton pad and you pinch your eyes shut, wincing slightly at the inevitable sting. Thankfully your arm just looked worse than it is; he’s able to leave most of it uncovered, only bandaging a small section that looks particularly inflamed.

Placing your arm down in your lap, he’s not sure how to carry on. He can practically hear you thinking, but what exactly is turning over and over in that head of yours he doesn’t know.

“Sorry,” you mumble weakly, angling your head towards him, gaze still downward.

“Sorry for what?”

“This.” You shift your hands around in your lap and start picking at your nails. You slump down on the couch, continuing, “Sorry for crying.”

“Hey, look at me.” Joel turns himself to face you, resting an elbow on the back of the couch. He waits for you to turn and you finally lift yourself to meet his gaze, your eyes red and glassy.

“Don’t apologise for crying, sweetheart. You’re allowed to cry.”

“I’m twenty-three, I should be better at all this by now.”

“Better at what? I’m about to turn fuckin’ fifty and I still cry sometimes.”

You turn away from him again — you furrow your brow and he can tell you’re trying to come up with a reason why that shouldn’t apply to you, why you need to be stronger than anyone else.

“I assume that was your boyfriend on the phone? Sounds like you had grand plans for tonight.”

You screw your face up at that.

“Don’t call him- don’t say that. He had grand plans, I was psyching myself up to break up with him.”

He knew that something wasn’t right between the two of you, but he didn’t realise it would be quite this bad.

“It’s just…” You sigh again, sounding despondent, like all that anger you had earlier has been dissolved, absorbed, or maybe you’ve just become desensitised to it.

“I just don’t understand, how is he so… detached? It’s like he’s from another fuckin’ planet. I can’t tell anymore if he just doesn’t care or if he truly is that self-absorbed.” You lean back and bring your arms up, draping them over your head.

“Was it always like this?” He’s trying his best to tread lightly, but hopes you’ll feel more at ease if you can get some of this off your chest.

“No… at least, I don't think so. Maybe it has been and I was just blinded by the bare minimum. Only now he doesn’t even do that.”

You turn to look at him again, eyes changed from glassy to broken and exhausted. You whisper a thank you, a soft, sad smile on your face and he decides not to push you any further. You’ve shared, and that’s a start — you’ll come to him again in your own time.

“Gonna go finish up that tire of yours, you can stay in here a while if—”

You’re standing before he can get the words out, straightening out your shirt and wiping your tear-stained cheeks with the back of your hand.

“Sounds good, let’s go.”

No longer hysterical as you push past to walk outside, now you just look defeated. He should insist you stay put to be alone, but having just opened up about your insecurities and loveless relationship with Jake, now isn’t the time to defy you. Maybe he can try and bring a smile to your face before you say goodbye.

-

You thought your night might end in tears courtesy of Jake, but this isn’t what you were expecting. You can’t believe you broke down so easily in front of Joel, but maybe deep down you knew he wouldn’t mind, knew he’d be there to console you.

You have to admit, it felt nice to be held, to feel safe in someone's embrace. Your head was spinning — Jake’s an asshole, my arm hurts like a bitch, I’m never gonna get the blood out of this shirt. Then Joel took your arm in his hands and it had your head spinning for entirely different reasons. Feeling his fingertips dig into your skin and his hold around your wrist had you longing to feel those same sensations on the rest of your body.

Joel shook your hand the first day you met and you committed it to memory — firm grip, calloused palm, thick fingers. You replayed it in your mind on countless late nights with your hand between your legs, trying to imagine how different it would feel, how much better it would feel if it were his instead.

Coming outside into fresh air was supposed to calm you down, until Joel carried on replacing the tire and you felt heat settle under your skin, neither from injury nor anger. Muscles flexing under his coveralls, neck tensing and the grunts from the exertion — something else you can commit to memory. You feel your panties dampen and you don’t feel ashamed.

Joel stands when he’s finished fitting the new tire, lifting you out of your fantasy. Thinking back to the last time you saw him, you remember his parting words to you: you’re welcome to come answer the phone for me. You couldn’t tell if he was being polite or actually offering you a job.

“Were you serious about all that answering the phone stuff?” You wring your hands, worried you’re about to make a fool of yourself.

“You wanna work here?” Joel straightens up, the hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“I mean, I know my dad would like to see me out of the house and actually doing something. I doubt this would impress him, though.”

Joel cocks his head to the side, hands planted on his hips as he inches towards you and you feel yourself heat up instantly, eyes going wide as embarrassment washes over you.

“Sorry! No offence to you, I just mean- I’m not saying it’s- God I’m really not helping myself.” You snap your eyes shut, hands flying up to cover your face and you wish the world could just swallow you whole.

Joel starts laughing, a quiet, gravelly sound and you open your eyes to glare at him. He raises his eyebrows, a wide smile now across his face.

“No offence taken. Do you really wanna sit here answering the phone? I‘m sure there’ll be some other stuff we can do, too, but not much else beyond that.”

Other stuff we can do. You could certainly think of a few things, that’s for sure.

“Well, something’s better than nothing. And you play nice music, so there’s that.”

He laughs again, shaking his head.

“Maybe you can teach me some car stuff when I’m not answering the phone. And… you’re nice to be around, I guess.” You purse your lips, trying your best to play it off as an innocent compliment. 

“Well alright then, I’ll see you next week sweetheart.” He smiles warmly, eyes just beginning to crinkle around the edges and for the first time today you feel at ease.

Joel saves your number and waves you goodbye as you drive off. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he’s still standing in the road, a smirk plastered on his face and you grin like an idiot. You still have Jake to deal with, and your blood-stained shirt might go straight in the bin, but at least you have working with Joel to look forward to.

comments & reblogs are hugely appreciated, forehead kisses to all 💜

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[joontroverted]

thinking about sweet single dad satoru who you could never tell is a single dad. 

this is HELLA unedited and just a brain dump lol. 

you probably should not be out tonight, especially not this late. but that's the beauty of being your own employer right, you have no boss! the only person who's gonna be holding you responsible is yourself but that's not tonight's problem. that's tomorrow you's problem.

so you're out the house too damn late, spinning on the bar stool, waiting for the bartender to fix your drink, and you spin right into the chest of someone tall. soft hands gently hold your shoulders, lifting you off of him with a melodious laugh, and you turn to see such a pretty man. just stupidly pretty. pale skin standing out in the darkness of the club and white hair slightly spiky with sweat, with his blue eyes trained on yours.

“whoa there, are you okay?” he leans in to your ear to ask.

you apologize immediately, and you see that you've made him spill his drink, causing you to apologize even more, offering up your concoction in exchange. he laughs and says that it's not even alcohol, just sprite. he even pays for your drink! you still insist on him having your drink because of how mortified you are, and after a second of consideration, he gulps it down.  

if that wasn't enough, he spend the entire night with you, hovering around you, tucking your hair behind you ear, and when you finally hit the dance floor, he dances with you like he's drunk, spinning you about and dipping you every chance he gets, no real semblance of coordination, but his charm and earnest have you beaming and blushing. 

he's flirting right? he's definitely flirting.

you ask if he's drunk once you see the pink flush spreading across his face, to which he responds saying that he’s a lightweight and doesn't even enjoy drinking. when you ask him why he accepted your drink and why he's in the club alone at all, he giggles and says he just wanted to keep talking to the pretty woman who bumped into him, silly! also it's been a long day, and he's had some family trouble, which he just wants to cool off from.

you nod, rubbing his back and out of nowhere he blurts out “my son told me i'm both clingy and avoidant at the same time, like a teenager that never developed so i better start acting like my millennial age.”

you have no idea what to say to that. 

“and funnily enough we have a father son bonding activity planned tomorrow morning and i don't even know how the fuck to go about it after that.”

“today morning,” you supply unhelpfully.

“what?” 

“it's almost 3 am, it's already tomorrow.”

“what?” he repeats, incredulously, staring into his chunky sparkly watch that looks too expensive to be here in the trenches with you. “it's fucking three am? what the fuck?? i am a stupid teenager who never grew up!” 

and in under a minute, he's up and gone.

you uber yourself home, completely sober, wondering what the fuck you just bumped into. as you near home, as pretty and charming as he was, you're glad you’re not messing with that train wreck. a dad with a whole son old enough to roast him like that? let alone the fact that he probably has some poor woman or significant other waiting at home for him as he makes poor decisions with you of all people. you really dodged a bullet with that one, you chuckle. 

***

you smile at the newest student and direct them to their seat. it's a beautiful morning, and you truly love your job. the sun is out, the birds are chirping and the flowers are fresh! you don't have even a drop of tipsiness in your body and you are well rested and excited for the class. you look up with a smile as the bell tinkles and the door opens, to welcome in the last of the students, and you see a familiar tall man's white head of hair accompanied by a sulky black haired teenager, arguing. 

“now if you could just talk to me and let us bond over these fucking flowers, that would be great! and we're already late, which is- “ his eyes meet yours. “oh.”

the teenager doesn't even bother being surprised, as he looks between the two of you with a flat look. 

“hello! good morning!” you say, trying not to sound odd.

“hi,” replies the man, blinking at you.

the teenager looks at him, and then at you again. “he has a wife,” he says before walking in and taking a seat.

“no i don't!” sputters the man. “i don't!” he insists to you, and you can't be fucked to deal with this nonsense. taking a deep breath, you gather your composure and push into the class. 

the art of flower arrangement is not something to be taken lightly. it is an art, something soothing yet there is a system to it. it's important to find your style and flow as you go through it, and you've mastered it over the years, and you hope that your students take something they can cherish from your 1 day work shop. or at least fix their father son bond. in silence.

you learn that his name is gojo satoru, and his son is megumi. you can't lie, they're good students. quiet and dedicated, listening to you explain and following your every step and instructions. you catch them helping each other out here and there and you're glad that this cheating man can actually create some beauty, despite his flaws. 

the class draws to an end in a few hours, and you’re glad to see that everyone's had a good time, from all the pictures they're taking and how almost each of them personally came up to you and commended you, some even taking your business cards. you look up and see that megumi has made his way up to you.

“he's single. no wife. just me.” 

“did he ask you to tell me that?” you snort.

“yeah. but i said i wouldn't do it.” he shrugs. “he’s a good guy. and i really enjoyed the class. thank you,” he adds awkwardly, before turning and rushing out.

that leaves you with just gojo satoru.

he's sheepish, but the boyish charm from last night is still present and as you break the ice with what megumi said, the conversation moves rather smoothly. smooth enough that even though the environment in your shop is vastly different from that of the club last night, the energy between you is the same. light and flirty at first, but he doesn't show any signs of leaving, helping, no doing most of the cleaning up of the set up, his blue eyes following and lingering on you as you flit around him. he takes every opportunity to abuse his height privilidge in helping you put things away and is surprisingly strong despite his slim build. 

you can't help but look at the strip of stomach that shows as he lifts his arms and how his forearms flex as he moves about. 

by the time you've cleared everything up, both of your stomachs are growling in hunger for lunch. he has both his and megumi's flower arrangement to take home, and you're leaning into each other's personal space and that's not even talking about how he has a large hand placed on your waist, blue eyes piercing into yours.

you're barely done eating the ramen he's cooked before you're on his lap, his hands coming up from under your shirt, kissing sloppily. he picks you up and takes you to his bedroom in his too big apartment that is neat but sparse save for the flower arrangements set at the table.

the two of you roll around in his bed, him seemingly obsessed with mapping out every inch of your body from the crook of your neck to the cushion of your soft thighs. it's not in your nature to ever move this quickly with a man, especially one that has an entire son, but soon enough you are rid of your panties as he is sinking into your heat. long and hard, he pumps into you, slowly eyes never leaving each other as he whimpers when he settles into you. what started out as slow soon becomes hurried and desperate, the cool sheets clinging to you as he buries his head in your shoulder, biting it in frustration as he has to pull out and come on your stomach. 

he’s not done with you though. mouth latched onto your clit, he sucks and sucks, pulling two orgasms out of you in quick succession till you have to push him off of your pussy, causing him to whine. 

after he cleans you up and your snuggling, he has his head on your chest 

you giggle. “megumi's not wrong. you are clingy.”

“forgive me for wanting to rest on your tits,” he grumbles, only snuggling in closer. “can we not talk about my son after we've fucked?”

you laugh and nod. “okay.”

there's some silence between you as you run your fingers up and down his spine, scritching his scalp and ruffling his hair. he almost purrs like a big happy cat.

“you know megumi's not biologically mine, right?”

“hmm, i figured,” you reply, thinking about how they more or less look nothing alike except for their hairstyle, and even that was a reach. 

“his father dumped him on me when i was eighteen and fucked off. megumi was like barely four. his father was a distant cousin. which would make megumi my distant nephew. i tried telling megumi that, so i could be like… his cool uncle. most unhelpful thing ever. i could have told him i was jesus christ himself and that wouldn't have stopped him from launching his school bag at my head at every minor inconvenience.”

the thought of anyone let alone a small angry kid you had no urge to care for throwing a school bag at your head at a whim sounds like actual hell, but satoru (what a beautiful name) has a fond smile on his face as he recalls the memory.

“you think he's moody now? oh this is nothing in comparison to what he had going on back then. he was such an angry baby. so sulky. so moody. and so unwilling to speak to me. and i had no patience for him either. we used to have these screaming matches and it's crazy to think about now. i was screaming back to an actual kid who had completed only a grand total of four trips around the sun. and here i was. eighteen and looming over him, also moody and fresh off of a break up, wondering how the hell this kid had the audacity to hate me so much.”

you press a little kiss on his forehead. “aww, you were an angsty little teenager too! like father like son!”

he pouts, pushing his nose further into your soft breast. “that's why i was so annoyed with what he said last night. i'd like to think i've gotten better. and megumi actually took it back and we did bond today. thanks to your class.”

that makes you feel warm and happy. people don't usually, well ever, see the importance in your craft, invalidating and degrading it too often. you're glad that both satoru and megumi not only enjoyed the class and did well, but also could make a good memory out of it.

“you're welcome.” you whisper, pressing a kiss on his hair.

“we've gotten through much worse without any flowers to help us through it, me and gumi. you know once he took a hammer to school and threatened to smash some kid's head in because he kept pulling the local stray dog's tail. and that was the day i was elbow deep in work and decided to put my phone on silent, and i forgot to pick him up from school. imagine the screaming match we had when we got home after i checked my phone to see 24 missed calls and had to get yet yelled at by his principal. and mid way through it he just burst into tears. and then so did i. and then we cried together as he told me that the stray was his only friend and he missed his family… that's when i finally saw that he wasn't just some annoying kid dropped off on my doorstep. he was just a baby.”

you pull back to look at him. his big doe eyes and unblemished skin, his hand kneading your breast as he thinks back fondly. you think of how gentle he was with megumi in class and how sweetly he speaks of him. you think of the past, a younger, gangly, angsty version of him.

“so were you” you say softly, brushing his hair back. you can feel him breathe in and out against your body.

“huh?” he says, looking up at you.

“you were just a baby. and you're not even thirty now. people have kids when they're past thirty and they still think they're too young. and here you are doing an amazing job! but... you're still just a baby,” you tell him gently, holding him against you.

satoru feels naked under your caring, thorough gaze. vulnerable and safe. his eyes widen as he feels comfort spreading through his body, tangling his legs with yours even more. he continues watching you as the room darkens and your eyes shut, drowsiness taking over you. 

he feels like he’s been given a miracle in hands, not for the first time in his life. and as he snuggles into your warm embrace, he decides not to resist falling this time. 

[g4yforethan]

anything

pairing: mike schmidt x male!reader

summary: reader ends up working the late shift with mike and catch feelings for each other

warnings: cursing, top!mike, bottom!reader

a/n: i honestly loved the fnaf movie and josh hutcherson is sooo cuteee istg

“do you want the job or not?” your employer asked you as you sat in his office. this job was your only hope since you had some troubles with your previous jobs and getting fired from every single one for always showing up late. "i mean what do i even have to do?" you were confused. he was offering you a job at an abandoned pizzeria and when you looked it up, it looked like an evil chuck e cheese. he explained the job and you decided to take it. "would i be working by myself?" you asked him. "no no of course not. you're gonna have a buddy to work with. name is mike schmidt. ran into a little trouble but seems like a nice guy." you agreed and got ready for the job.

you arrived at the pizzeria at around 9 pm and saw another car parked and went inside. as you went inside, you saw the whole place truly was abandoned as all the lights were off and the main stage that featured the animatronics was filled with dust and spider-webs. when you went into the security room, you heard a scream as you went in. "AHH JESUS CHRIST." "oh my god i'm so sorry. i guess they didn't tell you you were gonna have a partner huh?" the look on his face said that he didn't know. the both of you laughed it off and started to get to know each other.

“haha so you’ve been seeing anyone lately?” mike asked you. you were taken back by what he said but answered his question. “uhh no i haven’t found the time to do any of that you know.” he nodded his head and started to get closer to you. “well i think a guy as cute as you should already have a boyfriend.” you blushed and turned away so he wouldn’t see but he grabbed your face and looked straight into your eyes. “i’m being serious.” he said to you as you both kept eye contact with each other. he licked his lips and went in for a kiss on your lips.

the two of you began smothering each other with kisses as he grabbed ahold of your face and you grabbed his back. he moaned as you bit on his lip."i'm sorry." you said as you paused to look at him. "don't. i liked it." you smiled and continued kissing each other as he placed you on his desk and removed all the papers that were on it and laid you on your back. he started to take his shirt off as did you and proceeded to give you several hickies on your neck and chest. you moaned as he started playing with your nipples and rubbed them to elevate you. "i wanna fuck you so bad right now." "then do it already." you told him as he quickly understood you and unzipped his pants and you did as well.

he pulled out his long, thick cock and quickly inserted it into your mouth. you began sucking on his dick for a few minutes as he grabbed your hair and shoved it down your throat. you continued sucking before he pulled out. "fuck i was gonna cum. turn around baby boy." you did as he said and turned around and positioned yourself with your ass facing towards him. he started going down and licking your hole and leaving marks on your ass. your moans seemed to turn him on even more as he started digging his fingers inside your hole. you begged him to fuck you already and he listened.

he went in slowly scratching your back and leaving marks all over. he went at an angle that had you hooked and he knew this. he started going at a medium pace, this time grabbing ahold of your waist. he went even deeper digging into your hole as your moans filled the room. he started going even faster and started pulling your hair back with his hands making sure you wouldn’t pull out. “fuck. fuck im gonna cum.” he came inside of you filling your hole with his warm, thick cum. afterwards, the both of you put back your clothes on and laid next to each other on the ground. “you know we should get back to work in case anything goes wrong.” you tell him as mike slowly starts to doze off. “mhm after a quick nap.” he pulls you in and gives you a kiss on your lips and neck before the both of you fall asleep.

[hkruu]

Can you write a cold and distant yandere CEO with everyone but a total puppy to the reader?

“NOTICE ME.” — hkr

\\ yan ceo , loser behavior behind doors lmfao , implied favoritism , stalking , mention of murder and violence , slightly sadistic (?) , not my usual style of writing but I tried !! //

Keith was loosing his mind, do these worms that work under him not understand English? He swears that anyone could drop dead and he wouldn't care except for that worker (you) that he always seemed to favor out of anyone.

Of course everyone that worked on the company was aware.

"Seriously, how do you even gain the favor of boss? I swear he's a tough ice." One of of your co-workers had asked, you could only shrug in response. You of all people didn't know why Keith favored you among the best, I mean just why? There was Kayla who was employe of the month, Seth who was his assistance so what could you offer?

Keith who somehow gets jealous of everything and anything, you try to interact with the newbies? Huh, when did they become so busy with a lot of paper works? It's only their first day . . . If you want answers you might wanna turn to Seth.

Keith who really likes seeing you working hard, it reminds him the times where he watched you study hard for your degree during September 3 at 3:17 am — you're asking why he knows that? Well he's Keith, a normal guy trying to make business.

When Keith is alone, you might mistake him from another guy. Behind the doors of his office room, you're greeted with the warmth of his affection and a soft tone going “Good day".

Keith acts like a total puppy around you and he doesn't care, if you want to change your schedule it's already done in a swift! Want to be an air-conditioned room? Already done and dusted. You murmur wanting to be employee of the month? Oh would you look at that, you're employee of the month!

Of course, he'd always find a way where it's always related to him. He did want his name engraved into your head. . . .

Keith's love language is definitely act of service and gift giving. It's one of his strong suits since it came so naturally over him, he'd always remind you that he only shows this side to you because you are special to his eyes. Of course, some employee who overhead it will be the one who's flustered instead.

You two don't have a label in your point of view, but in Keith's? He practically thinks it's your 4th anniversary! He just loves you so much, why can't you just accept his love and let him trap you in his safe space? You won't have to work, do chores and even lift a finger. Keith would happily do anything you wanted, your needs mattered more than his.

Keith is the type to let the situation defuse by itself but when dealing with someone getting in his way to finally make you his — he's not above to resorting to violence. Even if Keith soft to you, he will never hesitate to resort to bad behavior just to make you stay by his side, like an actual loyal partner.

Murder wasn't a second choice, it was always the first choice. It didn't matter if it was a simple misunderstanding or a little trouble, there was no harm in ending lives when it came to you. Keith doesn't find blood dirty, he finds it fascinating. Blood keeps your heart pumping, blood runs through your veins at this very moment, it's something he likes feeling, touching.

That CEO is no psychopath, he calls it affection. Can't you see all the efforts he did just so that you could be in a higher position? Did you not acknowledge everything he did to you during highschool? During middle school? College? Do you not remember Keith? It was a shame, but this time he would make sure that you'd remember him for the rest of your life.

Even if you run away, quit your job, live in another country. Keith will always follow in any shape or form, he'll engrave the memories you spent together in your stupid brain, he'll carve his name into your skin and watch it bleed with your blood.

Keith is a normal guy. He's distant and cold, he keeps everything to himself, and he certainly doesn't like sharing.

\\ sorry if it's short ><!! I thought I was free the whole day but uhhh my schedule said no and sent me to a writing frenzy irl again!!//

\\ grrr request now cus I AM SKIBIDI //

\\ tysm for requesting anon, I hope I didn't go ooc 😞 (I did) //

[amysnotdeadyet]

Good Steve

Another! And then I have to go cook dinner. Stupid reality.

My darling @newtypeshadow asked for a somewhat complicated Steddie from Stranger Things plot, so she gets 555 words.

If there was one thing Eddie Munson was known for — besides shredding on the guitar — it was being protective of his boyfriend. Corroded Coffin were big enough that when they got outed the subsequent dip in record sales didn't tank their careers.

The metal scene was all about people living their lives outside of social conventions, after all.

Eddie did a cover of Judas Priest's "Breaking the Law" to open every concert that tour. Steve came along the way he always did. Instead of hanging with the other WAGs, he wore a staff shirt and assisted everywhere backstage. He'd learned a ton of useful skills in his years touring with them, and was always happy to help.

It took new guys some time to figure that out, though.

"Why the fuck is he here?" asked the guy who would be known as Bad Steve for the duration of his employment. He was a lighting expert of some renown, but he'd been caught in traffic on the way to the gig, so Steve had started setup while they waited.

"You're late," said Nate through the headset.

Steve emerged from beneath the boards already talking. "They need to solder #17, it's just not connecting." He turned to Bad Steve with a charming, boyish grin. "Oh, hey! I'm Steve, happy to lend a hand."

"You're Munson's boytoy." Bad Steve, unfortunately, had not muted his headset.

A dark 'ooooh' went through the line from several sources.

Steve's expression shuttered. "Check it or don't, but don't blame me if it goes out. Chart's over there."

Eddie came crashing into the booth, looking like a hot mess. "Stevie, baby, I need your touch."

Steve rolled his eyes. "You need me to do your eyeliner again because you smudged it already."

"Yep," said Eddie. "Oh, and Bad Steve, do consider who might be listening, hm?"

Steve let Eddie put his hands in the back pocket of his admittedly small jeans shorts, not even bothering to glance back to where Bad Steve was fuming.

A few hours later, when #17 had been soldered and the show was underway, Bad Steve got to see why Eddie's Steve was the favorite.

A nazi punk managed to get onstage while security was breaking up a fight elsewhere, and Steve flew out of wings with fire in his eyes to tackle the guy before he got past the monitors. Long legs pinned the guy's back to the floor, and he palmed the guy's head like a basketball, leaning in to say something there was no mic to pick up.

The guy tried to get up and got his face slammed into the stage for his trouble, Steve clearly in control even when the punk tried to swipe with a switchblade. The knife clattered away as Steve brought his own arm down on the guy's hand, smashing it into the monitor with a crunching sound and the screech of feedback.

The rest of security finally arrived to confiscate the knife and the nazi. Steve let him up, holding his own hands out while they hauled him away.

At that point, no one could blame Eddie for the scorching kiss that followed.

"Well," said Eddie into the mic, once Steve was safely offstage. "That was fuckin' hot, right?"

The cheers that followed were almost as deafening as the music.

[nectardaddy]

AISLE ONE . . . DRY HEAVE

WHAT'S PLAYING ? ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| dry heave, tiger really || “maybe I'll never be the person that I // swore I'd give my everything to be // forever dumb and awkward skinny lonely // wasting time and drowning in my dreams”

masterlist

The man let out a sigh when his hand met with the handle of the front door. Embarrassing, he thought to himself just before pulling and swinging it open. He was immediately hit with the cool air from inside, prickling at his skin as he stepped in and the door shut behind him. Brown eyes flickered over the store - he had to squint just enough to see the far end of the building, his left eye being far worse than his right (a freak accident that left his vision blurry and skewed) - and he scanned over aisles and aisles of snacks, drinks, and junk before his eyes stopped at the man who sat behind the counter. 

The man was slightly older, at least in his mid-thirties, heavily tattooed, and propped against the counter on his elbow scrolling through his phone. A scowl seemed to be permanent on his features, a resting expression although nothing was going on; Ino swallowed hard as he came to the conclusion that the only person to ask about employment looked like he might rip his throat out.

He took a silent breath as he neared the counter, and shoved his hands deep in the pockets of his pants. “You're hiring, right?” The man couldn't deny how stupid he felt, or how humbling the entire experience was as he stopped at the counter and paused. No uniform, as the man behind the register wore casual clothing, but a name tag that read ‘Sukuna' in scrawled handwriting on his shirt.

“That's what the door says, isn't it?” A curt reply from the man, supposedly named Sukuna, beyond the stained, wooden counter. Not even looking up from the small screen in his hand as Ino watched him scroll once more. “You a felon?” 

“What?”

The man looked up from his phone with a groan and suddenly the brunette felt minute. Small and unimportant as the other sized him up with a grimace, “have you been to prison?” Asked in a way that was almost demeaning, pronouncing each word with a bite that was meant to cause harm. 

“No.” 

“That's a first.” Sukuna rolled his eyes, “you do drugs?” 

“No.” Takuma truly didn’t know if it was wise to lie to the man, who was all too much bigger than him. On the other hand, it wasn't the smartest decision to be honest either; the truth was, he did way too many drugs, but that would entangle him in legal trouble if he were to actually admit it.

“Jeez- you're fucking boring at parties, aren't you?” 

What the fuck? He couldn't help but be taken back by the nonchalant, brash attitude; and he stared a moment before he shook his head. “Can I just get an application?” 

“We don't do those here,” Sukuna shrugged. “I'll tell Yaga you want a job, and congrats you got it.” 

“So I don't have to do anything?” 

“Do I need to speak up? You got the job, Mr. Boring, come back tomorrow ‘same time, Yaga should be here.” 

The entire interaction left him with more questions than answers; but he feared to ask anymore due to the annoyed expression painted on the other's face. Instead he simply nodded, “sounds good, thanks.” To which the other only hummed and flickered his eyes back down to his phone. 

As he turned to leave, the small chime of the front door bell hit his ears - a cheaply placed bell on the door frame that sounded every time the door was swung open. At the small toll, brown eyes glued themselves to the dirty, tiled floor as he started to make his way back to the exit; but Sukuna let out a loud groan upon seeing who entered. “You're two hours late!” A bark of a complaint that made the man's shoulders drop. The store was run down, dirty, and only offered strange selections rather than the normal; and now he knew that at least one person who worked there was a complete, and utter jackass - a coworker starting tomorrow. 

“Now we're even, dipshit,” the voice called back. But he took a sharp inhale at the sound, an eerily familiar one he knew to a tee, strong and brash, a cadence and tone that made his knees wobble. He was all too aware of who the voice belonged to, though he simply didn’t want to believe it. A voice that he used to hear every day, one of which would tease and prod with an err of endearment - a voice he hadn’t heard in two years. “You left me here three hours past my shift the other day.” 

The brunette's steps faltered as the voice was closer to him; and for a moment he thought about dipping behind another aisle as he heard her steps near him. But he didn't. Instead, he kept his head down and continued on, and hoped that the moment would pass just as she would. But it didn’t. Against his better judgment, and against his own racing thoughts his eyes flickered up, and he felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach once he did. He truly didn’t mean to lock eyes with her; if anything, he didn’t want to be perceived by her at all. 

If he felt small before, he felt like nothing now. 

It was a fraction of a second that seemed to pass in slow motion, like the world stopped spinning right then and there. It was as if he was sent straight back to high school when she looked at him; an influx of memories hitting him all at once that made him nauseous. It had been two years since he last saw her; her eyes were filled with tears then, and now they were filled with white, hot anger. He saw her brows scrunch in confusion just before her eyes widened, and watched as the realization set in on her features and switched to detestation. 

An overwhelming feeling of dread struck him in the chest, a suffocating emotion that forced him to avert his eyes back to the ground once more. Not a word was exchanged between them, but there was no need - the look of disgust would be permanently etched into his brain. Only a few feet away from the door, his face became hot and he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. When his hand met with the door handle a wave of relief washed over him; although, he wished he hadn’t heard the beginning of what he imagined would be a grueling conversation.

“You knew who that was?” 

“Unfortunately, yeah. I used to go to high school with him.”

“Fuck, that’s rough, because guess who’s your new coworker?” 

“Like hell he's working with me, I'd rather swallow glass.” 

⋆˙ pins and patches at the top are ones that yn wears on her jackets! 

⋆˙ there's a lot of history between ino and yn that we WILL dive into. just know that she doesn't necessarily hate him, but she definitely doesn't like him at the moment. and yes, there is a reason that he stopped talking to her.

⋆˙ ino is a big dumb loser boy <3

⋆˙ yn is about to have the best fight of her life after work. hakari and kirara are over the moon!!

⋆˙ yn does art too, remember that

taglist (open, send an ask)

@tomurafrlover23 @kr1nqu @popchrries @stillnotherapy @creamflix  

@nekozaki @gigiiiiislife @tomikixd @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @vorfreudevortex

@kameyyy @solaqes @nazwrites-2002 @aldebrana @sandwhitches

[midnightscramble]

So, here’s my idea if you plan to make an part 2 for the Violet fic: Violet will try to get closer to the maid because of what she was felling but with the excuse she just wants to be friends to the maid and then get this felling away but end up going wrong and the felling just get strong.

It's just an idea that popped into my head, so if you want to add something I'd love it!!, your writing is really good, so I'm sure it will be good

Good luck, Maid! Part 2 (Violet Bridgerton x fem!Reader)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

The Masterlist

Author’s Note: thanks for the kind words! If it is not to your liking try requesting something else (don’t be shy!) Happy readings to you.

Summary: After an unexpected encounter, Violet and Miss Y/n grow closer and new feelings emerge in Violet.

Warnings: slight internalized homophobia, very tame period typical homophobia, jealousy, somewhat salacious thoughts/daydreams on Violet's end, no Beta read

Violet woke from a restless sleep. She turned to her side, flinging her hair out of her face. Moonlight filtered through the curtains, reflecting off the white sheets and illuminating the space around her, particularly the side of the bed Edmund used to occupy. Reaching her hand out she smoothed the cool sheet. Similar to dirt on the forest floor churning as spring arrives, the mattress that once so vividly held his imprint now rose to meet her fingertips. 

By the height of the moon she assessed that there would be three hours before the sun emerged. She shut her eyes in hopes of returning to sleep. With no such luck, she gathered the edge of her nightgown and gingerly got out of bed. Perhaps a cup of tea could settle her. 

Knowing it was considered improper, she silently made her way through the halls and down to the kitchen. The knotty pine door was left ajar giving her pause. She stood frozen, peering through the cracks when suddenly the door opened, leaving her face to face with Miss Y/n. The younger woman shrieked before she could register who it was. Once she had, her hand flew up and clasped over her mouth in silent apology.

Whispering, Y/n took a step forward leaving them no more than a foot apart, “Lady Violet, is something the matter?” 

Partially stunned into silence by their proximity, Violet stuttered “uh yes, I just came for tea. I am having trouble settling for the night.” Her nose twitched with unexpressed energy, feeling glued to the floor but wanting nothing more than to sprint back to the confines of her bedroom. 

“Allow me to take care of that…will Chamomile do?” Violet nodded dumbly in response and followed Y/n back into the kitchen. Violet reasoned that by agreeing to this impromptu late night company, she could get to know the other woman in a friendly manner.

As Y/n put the pot on, Violet awkwardly stood beside the kitchen table watching the silhouette of the woman. The nightgown she wore was simple, conservative even, but the way it tightened around her hips and pulled at her chest made Violet’s cheeks heat. Her hands felt restless, an urge to reach out and touch the other woman washed over her. For such a simple nightgown, it was causing complex feelings to arise in her. Feelings that were provocatively, decidedly so, not of a "friendly" nature.

Violet’s gawking was interrupted as Y/n turned to face her, and she flinched at being caught. Not revealing anything, Y/n moved the pot off of the fire and grabbed a cup. She had noticed Lady Violet’s staring earlier in the evening as she got her ready for the Kent’s ball, but had chalked it up to the newness of her company. However, upon this development, unfamiliarity would be a mislabel.

She had known the company of the other woman before, in fact the young maid found herself working for the Bridgerton family after being caught with the wife of her previous employer. To not draw attention to the situation, the Lord of the house released her from service with a graceful letter of recommendation, however made it very clear that if she were to be seen publicly with the Lady of the house, such grace and tolerance would not be repeated. 

Anxiety peaked within Y/n as she tried to avert her eyes from the not quite shear cotton nightgown that adorned Violet, “if I may ask, why does sleep evade you tonight?” Moving the tea to the table, she motioned for Violet to sit with her.

Not realizing she was biting the inside of her cheek, Violet released the chewy flesh and took a seat, “Sleep has been evading me as of late. It seems that once I’ve gotten comfortable, uncomfortable dreams wake me.” She looked down at her fingers, trying to remember the hazy details of tonight’s latest installment. 

“I’m sorry to hear that, and there is no cure for this?” She looked at her with sympathy, she too endured sleepless nights, although her’s were mostly from paranoia. Y/n rested her hands flat on the table, trying to soak in the coolness.

“Is there a cure for loneliness?” Violet wondered out loud.

Pausing, Y/n examined Violet’s face, the way her eyelashes fluttered as her eyes darted across the scratches on the table. She must have taken too long to respond as Violet’s eyes shot up to hers, searching for validation. The pair stared at each other in the faint darkness, acutely aware of the dense air forming between them, making it near impossible to breath. The safety of stolen glances was long gone, neither could gather the courage to look away, neither wanted to. Violet's eyes darkened as she envisioned Y/n hovering over her, holding eye contact as the young woman’s hands parted her legs. Her mouth opened slightly as if it were actually happening. Drawn back to reality, she closed it, but she couldn't shake the thoughts.

Violet’s tongue felt heavy, and she feared she would choke on whatever words left her mouth next. Luckily, Y/n beat her to the punch, “I’ve been looking all my life…  I had found it once, but it was only temporary.”

Abandoning all formalities, Violet moved her hand to clasp Y/n’s. The selfish need to feel the touch of her skin overtook her. “I’m sorry to hear that, was he umm.. a good man?” Questions raced through her mind; had Y/n been left penniless, spoiled and then abandoned, had she been ruined?

“I-I think so, but… he… was far above me. No one cares what commoners do with each other, however it would have been the talk of Ton if anyone had found out” Violet’s grip on Y/n’s hand tightened, somewhat in protectiveness and somewhat in jealousy. To think that someone in her social circle had taken advantage of Y/n and then thrown her away enraged her for more than one reason. 

Y/n cleared her throat, “would you like me to escort you back to your room?” Retracting her hand, Y/n intentionally broke the intimate moment. There was a possibility that if Violet knew the truth of what had occurred she wouldn’t dare touch her. Violet nodded and they walked in silence down the halls and up the stairs. 

Violet’s eyes searched the empty halls as she tried to gather her thoughts. She didn't want this time with the other woman to end, especially when she was just starting to understand Y/n... and what she wanted from her.

Y/n on the other hand was nervously looking over her shoulder after each corridor. Although most would not bat and eye at the Lady of the house needing assistance, the compromising state of dress they were in could fuel destructive rumors.

When they reached her door, Violet paused before entering "If I were to have another sleepless night and ventured to the kitchen, would I happen to run into you?" She tried to contain the hope in her voice to not appear pushy or eager.

Swallowing, Y/n struggled to find an appropriate response, "Perhaps, my Lady."

...

Once she was alone in her room, Violet’s jaw was clenched and her eyes stung with unshed tears. Although the subtle rejection had wounded her, she knew the girl was only trying to protect herself. She felt bile rise in her throat, who had made Y/n so guarded?

Once it was an appropriate hour, she planned to call upon Lady Danbury, who was bound to know what company Y/n kept prior. The search for who had dishonored Miss Y/n was about to begin.