#that is kind of a mean and useless take by the way I am turning off reblogs on this bad boy. this is me rambling because I got mad about- | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thirtysomethingloser92 · 2 months ago

Text

Cherry Lips.

Summary: You spend one night with world famous musician Remy Lebeau and everything changes.

Warnings: Daddy kink, Choking, Spanking, Swearing, Smut. 18+

“It’s not you, it’s me.”

You roll your eyes, and there it fucking is. The most useless sentence in the history of humankind. Right up there with, “We’ll call you right back.”

You glance over at him—his pale blue eyes darting everywhere except toward you as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat at the tiny, cramped café. The table between you feels like a mile-wide chasm, and yet, somehow, not far enough. You raise an eyebrow, half in disbelief, half in disgust.

“Oh, I know it’s not me,” you say, letting your voice drip with a sarcasm you don’t bother to mask. “It’s Hannah McCoy down the road, isn’t it?”

Six years.

Six whole fucking years boiled down to cheap coffee and a line. One goddamn sentence.

He shifts again, more uncomfortable than before, his hand fidgeting with the napkin as if it’ll give him some kind of answer he’s too much of a coward to say out loud. You can see it—he’s stalling. Trying to find a way to make himself look less like the asshole that he is.

“It wasn’t meant to happen,” he says finally, his voice weak, like he’s trying to convince himself just as much as you. “She was just... there. And she gets me, you know?” His words are lame, hollow, and all the more infuriating because he actually thinks they’re enough.

You laugh—a short, humorless sound that feels more like a release of pent-up rage than anything else. “Oh, she gets you?” you echo, your voice rising a little. “What am I, a fucking puzzle you couldn’t solve?”

He flinches, but he doesn’t deny it. Instead, he stares at the table, his fingers still twisting that stupid napkin into knots. “We’re just... not compatible,” he mutters, as if that explains everything. As if that suddenly makes it all okay.

You narrow your eyes at him, feeling the heat rise in your chest. “You mean I’m not compatible with your bullshit,” you snap. “Just admit it—you’ve been trying to fuck her for months. Did you think I was too stupid to notice?”

He doesn’t answer, and that silence is all the confirmation you need. Anger burns hot and fast in your veins, but underneath it, there’s something else—a deep, bitter ache. Six years. You gave him six years of your life, and now you're sitting in this shitty café as he offers nothing but weak excuses and even weaker apologies.

“Look,” he says, clearing his throat and forcing himself to meet your eyes for a fleeting second. “Those tickets to the concert tonight... keep them. Go with Nat or someone. She’d probably love it.”

You almost laugh again, but this time it’s too absurd to even entertain. “Oh, I’m going,” you say, voice sharp as a knife. “Whether you’re there or not. I paid good money for those tickets, so don’t act like you’re doing me any favors.”

You take a sip of the coffee just to do something with your hands, but it’s as bitter as you feel, and you pull a face. Of course. Even the fucking coffee is shit.

He nods, like this conversation is some kind of negotiation that’s finally being settled. Like you’re both just two rational people agreeing to part ways, when in reality, he’s ripping apart everything you’ve built together. There’s nothing left to say, except—

“I’ll organize a trailer to come get my stuff tomorrow.”

You raise your eyebrows, the expression on your face saying everything: Yeah, you fucking better. You don’t want to see him again, don’t want to hear his voice or catch even a glimpse of his blond hair in the doorway. Tomorrow, it’ll all be gone. And good riddance.

Pushing back your chair, you stand up and toss a few bills onto the table, more than enough to cover your coffee. You grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder, and then lean down just slightly, enough so he can feel the gravity of your words.

“And by the way,” you say, your voice low and cold, “the coffee here tastes like shit.”

Without waiting for a response, you turn on your heel and walk out of the café, your footsteps steady and sure, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing you falter.

Tonight, you’ll go to the concert—Remy LeBeau live at the old warehouse downtown. The tickets you bought months ago, back when you thought you’d be going together, back when you didn’t know your relationship was already on its slow, agonizing descent.

But now, it’s just you. And you’ll go. And you’ll scream the lyrics if you have to. Because you paid for those tickets with your own damn money, and there’s no way in hell you’re going to let him ruin the one thing you’ve been looking forward to for months.

The door to the café swings shut behind you, and for the first time in a long time, you feel something close to freedom. <><><><><> "So he really just did that, huh?" Nat says, almost incredulous, as she runs a straightener through her fiery red hair. Each strand falls smoothly over her shoulder, contrasting sharply with the black band tee she’s wearing. Meanwhile, you sit on the edge of the bed, focused on pulling your black fishnet stockings over your legs, the faint snap of the fabric a sharp punctuation to the conversation.

You nod, popping the ‘p’ for emphasis. "Yep. Pulled the whole ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ bullshit too."

You stand up, reaching for the pair of black booty shorts lying on the bed next to you. The cool fabric slides easily over the stockings as you adjust them, making sure they sit just right. You catch Nat’s eyes in the mirror as she pauses, mid-straighten.

"Hannah McCoy," she says, her tone flat, almost clinical, as if she’s diagnosing an obvious problem. "She’s the blue-haired girl on your corner, right? Goes to college in town?"

You let out a humorless laugh. "That would be her," you reply, grabbing your eyeliner and starting your makeup routine. Your reflection looks back at you, the same you, but tonight’s different. Tonight, you want to look like someone who’s ready to burn the world down. Or at least, burn away the memory of your ex.

Nat’s phone buzzes on the dresser. She picks it up, scrolling through her feed with a frown before tossing the phone toward you.

"Take a look at this," she says, her voice laced with a kind of cautious sympathy. "Looks like she’s going to be there tonight with ‘someone special.’" Her finger hovers over the image, zooming in on a guy’s hand. "Whose tattoo does that look like?"

Your stomach twists as you glance down at the screen. The photo shows Hannah McCoy, grinning ear to ear, her lips pressed against a man’s hand. But it’s not just any hand. It’s one you’ve held countless times. One you’ve traced with your fingers. And that tattoo, the one in familiar looping script? You had paid for that tattoo on your second anniversary.

Your ex’s tattoo.

You feel a surge of anger rise in your chest. “Oh, the universe fucking hates me, I swear,” you mutter, tossing the phone back toward Nat. “The audacity of knowing I’m going to be there and still taking the woman you left me for is... ballsy.”

Nat shrugs, but there’s a glint of anger in her eyes on your behalf. "I’m more impressed he managed to get tickets this late. I thought they were all sold out."

"Obviously planning this one for months then," you comment, rolling your eyes as you start blending your eyeshadow. Months. Months of fake smiles, distant conversations, and a growing gap you both refused to talk about. It wasn’t that you were heartbroken over the breakup—you’d felt the relationship fizzling out for a while now. The spark had died sometime last year. Maybe even earlier than that, if you were honest with yourself.

But this? This was an entirely different kind of hurt. The fact that he had the nerve to not only break up with you but to bring the woman he cheated with to a concert he knew you were going to be at? It felt like a slap in the face. Like he wanted to gloat, to show off what he’d traded you for.

It wasn’t the breakup that stung. It was the sheer gall of how he was doing it.

"Does he think I’m just going to sit there and pretend they don’t exist?" you mutter, applying a deep red lipstick with more force than necessary. "Like, what, I’m supposed to be okay watching them together? He’s really trying to rub this in my face."

Nat finishes her hair and turns to face you, her expression softening. She walks over, picking up a bottle of perfume from the nightstand. With a gentle hand, she sprays a light mist over you, the scent filling the room as she leans in, resting her chin on your shoulder. Her reflection in the mirror grins mischievously.

"Well, you scrub up damn fine," she says with a wink. "And you know what they say, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else."

You laugh, rolling your eyes but feeling a little lighter. "Yeah, because that always works out perfectly," you reply, but a small smile tugs at your lips. You’re not looking for a rebound tonight. You’re not even looking to get over him, because deep down, you already are. What you’re looking for is to reclaim something for yourself.

You glance over at the concert tickets sitting on your dresser, the cheap paper so full of promise just a few weeks ago. Remy LeBeau, live in town, the rock concert you’d been excited about for months, back when you thought you’d be going with your ex.

But now? Now it’s just you and Nat. And maybe that’s exactly what you need.

"Fuck him," you say, standing taller and adjusting your shirt as you finish the last swipe of mascara. "Tonight isn’t about him. It’s about me. And damn it, I’m going to have a good time."

Nat grins, stepping back and giving you an approving once-over. "That’s the spirit. Let’s make tonight one to remember."

And as you grab your jacket and head for the door, you know one thing for sure: whatever happens tonight, you’re walking in there on your own terms. <><><><><><><> Crowded.

That was probably the only word that could remotely describe the scene in front of you. A shoulder-to-shoulder sea of leather, fishnet, black band tees, combat boots, and patches sewn onto worn-out denim jackets. The crowd seemed endless, bodies moving in rhythm with the heavy bass thumping through the massive speakers. It was as if the entire city had poured into this venue, all drawn to the electric energy of the night. The air was thick with the mingling scents of sweat, alcohol, and the faint burn of cigarette smoke from someone sneaking a smoke break in the corner.

The venue itself was a cavernous, industrial space—an old warehouse repurposed into a music hall. Exposed beams crisscrossed the ceiling, and metal railings lined the second-floor balcony where people leaned over, drinks in hand, watching the stage below. The walls were painted in dark, muted colors, and the dim lighting only served to heighten the sense of anticipation. Neon signs flickered above the bar, casting a ghostly glow across the crowd, while the stage at the far end of the room was bathed in deep reds and purples, waiting for the main act to start.

Nat held your hand tightly as she wove her way through the throng of people, her grip a lifeline in the chaos. You followed closely behind her, trying to keep pace, though your eyes kept darting over the crowd, searching, whether you wanted them to or not. It was ridiculous, but you couldn’t help yourself. You were scanning for that familiar flash of blue hair—her hair.

You hated that you were doing it. Hated that even here, in the middle of what was supposed to be your night, you were still thinking about them. About him and her. And of course, Nat knew. She always knew. She didn’t even have to say anything; she just gave your hand an extra squeeze, her silent way of telling you she understood.

She always understands, you think. Nat knows you better than you know yourself most days.

Finally reaching the bar, Nat let go of your hand and flagged down the bartender. The music was loud- Someone’s voice already blaring through the speakers as the opening band wrapped up their final song—but even over the noise, you could hear Nat’s shout. "Two shots of tequila!" she ordered, not bothering to ask if you wanted one. She knew you did.

You leaned against the bar, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling that had been gnawing at you since you walked in. It was stupid to let him—and her—invade your mind like this. It wasn’t like you were heartbroken anymore. The relationship had been dead for months, and you knew it. But here, tonight, knowing they were somewhere in the crowd at the same concert you’d been looking forward to for weeks? It felt like a sick cosmic joke.

The thought made your stomach twist. You wanted to have fun tonight, to let loose and forget about him. About them. But all you could think about was the fact that they might be here, just a few feet away, holding hands like you used to, maybe even in the same spot you and he had planned to stand.

"Here," Nat’s voice cut through your thoughts as she handed you a shot. "To assholes who don’t deserve your energy," she said, raising her glass.

You couldn’t help but smile at that. "To assholes," you repeated, clinking your glass against hers before throwing the shot back. The tequila burned its way down your throat, but it was exactly what you needed. A little fire to match the one brewing in your chest.

The music shifted as the opening band finished their set, and the energy in the room changed. The lights dimmed, and the crowd began to buzz with anticipation. You turned toward the stage, watching as the roadies scurried around, setting up for Remy LeBeau. You could feel the excitement building, the air practically vibrating with it.

And then, the lights flashed once, twice, and a single spotlight hit the stage. The crowd erupted in cheers and screams as Remy himself stepped out, swaggering to the microphone with a confidence that could only belong to a rockstar. His presence was magnetic—dark hair tousled just enough to look effortlessly cool, a leather jacket slung over his shoulders, and his voice... oh, his voice.

Deep. Gritty. Raw.

It thundered through the venue, shaking the very walls as he belted out the opening lines of his first song. The crowd surged forward, bodies pressed even closer together, arms raised, hands reaching for the stage. The bass pounded in your chest, the drums a steady heartbeat that seemed to sync with the pulse of the crowd. You could feel the music in your bones, vibrating through your skin, drowning out every other thought.

Nat handed you another drink, this time a beer, and you took it gratefully, letting the cold liquid wash away the heat from the shot. You both stood there at the bar, watching the stage, the music wrapping around you like a cocoon. For a moment, you forgot about him. You forgot about her. It was just you, Nat, and the music.

"God, he’s so fucking good live," Nat shouted over the noise, her eyes wide with excitement as she sipped her drink.

You nodded in agreement, feeling the corners of your lips tug upward. Yeah, he was good. Really good. And for the first time tonight, you felt yourself relax, even if only a little.

But still, there was that nagging thought in the back of your mind. You glanced around the venue again, scanning the crowd. It wasn’t that you were upset about the breakup itself. You’d moved past that. What pissed you off was that he had the nerve to bring her here. To the concert you were supposed to go to. It felt like a deliberate move, like he wanted you to see them together, to rub it in your face.

Nat caught you looking around and rolled her eyes. "Stop it," she said, nudging you with her elbow. "They don’t matter. You matter. And tonight is about having fun, okay?"

You took a deep breath and nodded. She was right. She was always right.

"Okay," you said, offering her a small smile. "I’m done. I swear."

"Good," she replied with a grin, taking another swig of her drink. "Because tonight, we’re here to get drunk, scream along to some killer music, and remind you exactly who the fuck you are."

As Remy’s voice echoed through the venue, the music engulfing both of you, you decided that maybe—just maybe—you could let yourself enjoy this. You were here for you. For Nat. For the music. Not for him. Not for her. It was halfway through the fourth song, the chorus echoing through the packed venue, when you saw it. That unmistakable flash of blue hair cutting through the crowd like a knife. Your heart, which had been pounding with the rhythm of the music, suddenly felt like it had missed a beat.

And there he was—right behind her, laughing, his flushed cheeks glowing under the stage lights. His arm was casually draped around her shoulder, the same way it used to rest around yours, and the sight of it sent a wave of nausea rolling through your stomach. The tequila and beer you’d been enjoying just minutes earlier suddenly felt too heavy, like a stone sinking in your gut.

You and Nat had been singing along, swaying to the music, your voices blending with the hundreds of others around you. It had been a good moment. No, it had been a great moment. You were finally letting go, letting the music take you somewhere far away from him, from them. But now, that bubble had popped, and the reality of seeing them together, in your space, shattered the fragile sense of peace you’d been clinging to.

They were making their way toward you, pushing through the mass of bodies with casual arrogance. You could see the flicker of recognition in his eyes when he saw you—his steps faltering just for a moment before he leaned down and whispered something in her ear. She paused too, her gaze finally landing on you, and for a brief second, you could see the hesitation in her face. But then they kept moving, like they had every right to be in your orbit.

You raised your drink to your lips, taking a large, deliberate sip, trying to calm the surge of anger rising in your chest. It hadn’t even been a full day. Not even twenty-four hours since he’d sat across from you in that dingy café and called it quits. And now here he was, parading her around like some kind of victory lap.

The audacity, the fucking audacity of it all, made your blood boil. You weren’t heartbroken—no, that wasn’t it. You’d been ready for the end. What you weren’t ready for was this. Him, swinging her around like a prize, like he hadn’t just destroyed six years of history and walked away like it was nothing.

Nat saw it too—the way your grip tightened on your glass, the way your jaw clenched as they got closer. She didn’t say anything, but you caught the look she shot you out of the corner of your eye. She knew that glint in your eyes, knew what it meant. It was the same look you got right before you were about to do something reckless. Or, more accurately, something that was probably going to get you both kicked out of the venue.

"You okay?" Nat asked, her voice low, but she didn’t need to. She already knew the answer.

Before you could respond, they were standing right in front of you. Him and her. The blue-haired girl who had been a shadow in the background of your life for months, and now was front and center, arm-in-arm with your ex.

"Hey," he said, because of course he would. His voice was casual, like he wasn’t standing there with the woman he’d emotionally cheated on you with, like he hadn’t just blown up your entire relationship less than a day ago. "Didn’t think I’d see you here."

You stared at him, your lips pressing into a thin, dangerous line. Didn’t think I’d see you here? The nerve of him acting like this was some kind of chance meeting, like he hadn’t known exactly where you’d be tonight. The tickets had been your idea in the first place. He knew. He fucking knew.

Nat shifted beside you, her hand subtly brushing against your arm like a warning, but you were already too far gone. That anger, that bitterness, it was bubbling up faster than you could control it, and there was no way in hell you were going to let this slide.

"Really?" you replied, your voice sweet with an edge of venom. "Didn’t think you’d see me here? At the concert I bought tickets for? The one we were supposed to go to together?"

He had the decency to at least look uncomfortable. She, on the other hand, just stood there, her blue hair framing her face, her expression unreadable. You weren’t even mad at her, not really. This was his mess.

"Look, I didn’t want it to be weird—" he started, but you were already done.

Without saying a word, you lifted your drink, the cold condensation dripping down your fingers, and poured it over his head. The liquid splashed over his blond hair, soaking into his shirt, and for a split second, the entire world seemed to go silent. His mouth dropped open in shock, and the people around you gasped, some even laughing as they realized what had just happened.

Nat’s eyes went wide, but you could see the admiration behind her surprise. She knew this was coming, and honestly? So did you.

"Oops," you said, your voice dripping with mock innocence. "Guess I didn’t see you there."

You didn’t wait for him to respond. You grabbed Nat’s hand and spun on your heel, pulling her away from the bar, away from them, and into the thick of the crowd. Your heart was pounding, adrenaline rushing through your veins as the two of you practically sprinted toward the back of the venue, weaving your way through the sea of people.

By the time you stopped, both of you were breathless, and Nat was laughing so hard she had to lean against a nearby wall to catch her breath. "Holy shit," she gasped between giggles, wiping a tear from her eye. "That was... that was fucking epic."

You couldn’t help but laugh too, the tension in your chest finally releasing as you leaned against her, the two of you a giggling mess. It felt good. It felt really good. For the first time all night, you felt like you had control over something. You weren’t just reacting. You were choosing how this night was going to go. And if that meant getting a little messy, so be it.

As your laughter finally started to die down, you glanced back toward the stage, still riding the high of the moment. And that’s when you saw him—Remy. He was looking straight at you from the stage, his dark eyes locked onto yours. A slow, mischievous grin spread across his face, like he’d seen the whole thing, like he knew exactly what had just happened.

For a second, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you—his grin, your flushed cheeks, and the thrum of the music vibrating in the air around you. There was something in his gaze, something that made your pulse quicken again, but not in anger this time. No, this was different.

Nat nudged you with her elbow, a knowing smirk on her face. "Looks like someone’s got an admirer," she teased.

You rolled your eyes, but the grin on your own face was impossible to hide. Maybe this night wasn’t so bad after all. The concert had ended, but the adrenaline from the night still buzzed through your veins like an electric current. You and Nat were stumbling out of the packed venue, laughing uncontrollably, replaying the entire night’s events in your heads. The music still echoed in your ears, and your bodies still thrummed with the energy of the crowd, the lights, and that moment when you’d dumped your drink over your ex’s head. It had been perfect—like something out of a movie—and you couldn’t stop laughing at the sheer audacity of it all.

"Did you see his face?" Nat cackled, leaning against you as you both pushed through the departing crowd. "Like, I don’t think he’s ever been so shocked in his life. You actually—" she paused, wiping a tear from her eye, "—you fucking drowned him!"

You were still giggling, the satisfaction blooming in your chest. "I mean, he deserved it. Who brings the girl they cheated with to the same concert as their ex? I did him a favor, honestly." Nat was about to respond when you both noticed the man pushing his way through the sea of people toward you. He was hard to miss: a burly, balding guy in a black shirt, wearing a lanyard and an earpiece, the telltale signs of venue security. The sight of him was enough to send a jolt of panic through your body, and you instinctively grabbed Nat’s arm.

You exchanged a look—both of you wide-eyed with matching oh shit expressions. There was no way this wasn’t about what had just happened at the bar. Shit, shit, shit.

"Uh, what do we do?" you whispered under your breath, trying to calculate your chances of slipping away unnoticed. But it was too late. The security guard had already spotted you.

He stopped in front of you, his eyes narrowing as he sized you up, clearly annoyed but not quite angry. He exhaled sharply and jerked his head toward the back of the venue. "Come with me," he said, his voice gruff, leaving no room for argument.

You and Nat exchanged another glance, this time your heart sinking. Oh, great. Here we go. You opened your mouth to protest, trying to play it cool. "Uh, yeah, I don’t really go anywhere with strange men. Learned that one a long time ago."

The security guard rolled his eyes so hard you worried they might get stuck. "Mr. LeBeau wants to see you," he said, his voice low but firm, like he had better things to do than argue with you.

That stopped you cold. "What?" you said, blinking, any thoughts of running or playing dumb immediately evaporating. Your brain tried to catch up with the words, but they didn’t make sense. "Mr. LeBeau" as in... Remy LeBeau? The Remy LeBeau who had been up on stage not twenty minutes ago, singing his heart out, making the entire venue lose their minds?

Nat’s eyes widened as she grabbed your arm. "Wait, wait, wait," she said, clearly as stunned as you were. "Like, Remy Remy? The guy we just watched? Wants to see... us?"

The security guard gave a curt nod, clearly unimpressed by your confusion. "Yeah. He saw what you did at the bar." He smirked a little, like he couldn’t help but be amused by the whole situation. "Said it was the highlight of his night."

Your heart was pounding now, but for an entirely different reason. You could still picture Remy’s face from earlier, that moment after you’d drenched your ex. He’d been singing, but he’d seen you—grinning down from the stage with a mischievous glint in his eyes, like he was in on the joke. And now he wanted to see you. You.

Nat was already tugging at your arm. "Holy shit, we have to go," she whispered, her voice barely containing her excitement. "Are you kidding me? The man himself wants to meet you!"

Your mind was spinning, a dizzy mix of excitement and disbelief swirling in your chest. You couldn’t help but feel like this was some kind of fever dream. A few hours ago, you’d been sitting in a café getting dumped by your ex, and now... now you were about to meet a rockstar. The rockstar.

You swallowed hard, trying to gather your thoughts. "Okay," you said, your voice shaky but determined. There was no way you were going to pass this up. Not after everything that had happened tonight. "Okay, let’s go."

The security guard turned on his heel and led the way, weaving through the last remnants of the crowd as you and Nat followed closely behind. You could feel your heart racing, your palms slightly sweaty as you tried to process what was about to happen.

"Remy LeBeau," Nat whispered, half to herself, half to you, as you walked. "Dude, what the hell is even happening right now?"

"I have no idea," you muttered, glancing down at your outfit, suddenly feeling both excited and self-conscious. The adrenaline from earlier was still humming through your veins, but now it had turned into something else. Nerves. Anticipation.

The security guard stopped at a door near the back of the venue, nodding to another guard who waved you through without hesitation. You stepped inside, and the noise of the venue faded behind you, replaced by the quieter, more intimate hum of the backstage area. The walls were lined with posters and equipment cases, and there was a faint smell of cigarette smoke and sweat lingering in the air.

And then, there he was.

Remy LeBeau.

He stood near the back of the room, leaning casually against a table as if he hadn’t just performed in front of hundreds of people. His dark hair was still damp with sweat, and he had a half-smile on his lips, that same mischievous look in his eyes that you’d noticed from the stage. He was just as magnetic up close as he had been from afar, his presence filling the room without even trying.

"Well, well," he drawled, his voice smooth and rich with a hint of amusement. "Th’ girl who made my night." His eyes flicked over to Nat, acknowledging her but clearly focused on you. "An’ her partner in crime, I assume?"

You couldn’t help but smile, a mix of nerves and excitement bubbling up inside of you. "Uh, yeah, that was... me," you said, trying to play it cool but knowing full well you were probably failing miserably.

Remy chuckled, the sound low and warm, and pushed off the table, walking toward you with an easy confidence. "I got’ta say," he continued, "I’ve seen a’lo’ of crazy shit in my time, but tha’..." He shook his head, grinning. "Tha’ was somethin’ special."

Nat nudged you, her eyes wide with excitement, and you could feel your face flush with a mix of pride and embarrassment. "Thanks," you said, your voice a little breathless. "It felt pretty damn good."

Remy raised an eyebrow, still smiling. "Y’re a firecracker, aren’ y’?" He glanced between you and Nat, then back at you. "I like tha’."

For a moment, you just stood there, not entirely sure what to say. This was surreal. You were standing in front of Remy LeBeau, who had not only witnessed your dramatic confrontation with your ex but had actually enjoyed it. And now he was talking to you like you were the most interesting person in the room.

Nat, as usual, broke the silence first. "So, uh, what now?" she asked, grinning from ear to ear.

Remy tilted his head, still watching you with that same mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well, I wa’ thinkin’," he said slowly, "y’ two seem like the kin’a girls who know how t’ have a good time. And I’m not quite ready for the night t’ end." He flashed a grin. "What do y’ say we grab a drink? My treat."

Your heart skipped a beat. This night just kept getting more and more unbelievable. You glanced at Nat, who was practically vibrating with excitement, and then back at Remy.

"Yeah," you said, a smile spreading across your face. "We’d love that." The night had a dreamlike quality to it, a hazy mix of laughter, music still buzzing in your ears, and the steady pulse of alcohol warming your veins. You and Nat found yourselves sitting with the band long after most of the crowd had cleared out, the afterglow of the concert still lingering in the air. Empty bottles were strewn across the table, and the conversation was flowing easily, Nat animatedly explaining something to the drummer and bassist, her hands gesturing wildly, drawing out laughter from everyone around her.

But even amidst the easy banter, the shared stories, and the laughter, you could feel it—him. Remy’s eyes on you. The weight of his gaze was almost tangible, like a heat that lingered on your skin. You were talking to the guitarist about some band you’d both seen live a few years ago, your conversation relaxed and casual, but every so often, you’d glance up, and there he’d be. Watching you.

Remy LeBeau.

There was something about him that pulled people in, a quiet magnetism that didn’t demand attention so much as command it. He wasn’t the type to shout or make a spectacle of himself, but when his eyes locked on you, it was as if everything else in the room faded away. He didn’t need to do anything more than smirk, that small, knowing curve of his lips, and it was enough to make your heart skip a beat. It wasn’t just because he was a rockstar—though that certainly didn’t hurt. No, it was something deeper. Something in the way he carried himself, like he knew exactly who he was and didn’t apologize for it.

And now, he was watching you, that same smirk playing on his lips, like he knew something you didn’t. You tried to focus on what the guitarist was saying, but it was impossible to ignore the heat creeping up your neck, the flutter in your stomach every time you caught Remy’s gaze.

It wasn’t long before Remy made his way over to you, slipping into the seat beside you with a kind of effortless grace. The guitarist gave him a nod and, sensing the shift in energy, excused himself to grab another drink, leaving you alone with Remy.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The room was still buzzing with energy, Nat’s laughter ringing out from across the table as she leaned into the drummer, her legs now casually draped over his thighs, his thumbs tracing lazy circles along her calves. You smiled at the sight of her, happy that she was enjoying herself. But when you turned back to Remy, your breath caught in your throat. He was closer now, close enough that you could smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the lingering hints of sweat from the concert.

He wasn’t looking at anyone else. Just you.

"Y’ having a good nigh’?" he asked, his voice low and smooth, like velvet brushed against your skin.

You nodded, trying to keep your voice steady despite the sudden rush of nerves. "Yeah. Better than I expected, honestly."

"Tha’ so?" He smiled, the corner of his mouth lifting just slightly. "Didn’ think y’d end up backstage with a bunch of rockstars, huh?"

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "No, definitely didn’t see that coming. I thought I’d spend the night drowning in cheap drinks and bad memories. Maybe even getting arrested for assault after the bar incident," You glanced briefly at Nat, still lost in her own world, then back at him. "But this... this is way better."

Remy’s eyes softened for a moment, his smirk giving way to something a little more genuine. "Good. Y’ deserve better th’ bad memories and shit ex-boyfrien’s."

There was something about the way he said it that made your heart skip a beat. You weren’t sure if it was the tequila or the way his voice wrapped around the words like a promise, but suddenly, the room felt smaller, the space between you and him charged with an undercurrent of something unspoken.

You took a sip of your drink, trying to calm the rush of emotions swirling inside you. "So, you always invite girls backstage who pour drinks on their exes?" you teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Remy chuckled, leaning back slightly, but his eyes never left yours. "No’ always. But y’... well, y’ caught my attention."

You raised an eyebrow, feeling a spark of boldness rise within you. "Oh yeah? What was it? The drink? The fishnets?"

He grinned, his eyes darkening slightly as he tilted his head. "Maybe it was the way y’ didn’ let him get th’ last word. Or maybe it’s th’ way you carry y’self, like y’ve got fire in y’." His voice lowered, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. "I like that."

The air between you shifted, the playful banter giving way to something heavier, more charged. You could feel the tension, thick and palpable, hanging between you like a thread waiting to snap.

You glanced down at your drink, suddenly aware of how close he was, how his leg was brushing against yours under the table. The room was still full of people, but it felt like the two of you were in a bubble, separate from everything else. Your pulse quickened, and when you looked back up at him, you could tell from the look in his eyes that he felt it too.

There was a moment of silence, the kind that stretches out endlessly, where you’re not sure what’s going to happen but you know something is. You could feel the question lingering in the air—unspoken, but loud enough to drown out everything else.

And then, as if the decision had already been made, Remy leaned in just slightly, his voice low and rough. "Y’ wanna get out of here?"

It wasn’t a question so much as an invitation, one that hung between you like a challenge. Your heart was pounding now, your palms slightly sweaty as you held his gaze. You knew what he was asking, knew exactly where this was going. And despite the chaos of the night, despite the whirlwind of emotions that had started with seeing your ex, there was no hesitation in your mind.

You wanted this.

You swallowed, your voice barely above a whisper. "Yeah. I do."

Remy’s smirk deepened, and without another word, he stood up, offering you his hand. You glanced over at Nat, who was still wrapped up with the drummer, her legs now fully draped across his lap, lost in her own world. She caught your eye for a brief moment and gave you a knowing grin, mouthing, Go.

You took Remy’s hand, letting him guide you through the backstage corridors, the noise of the room fading behind you as you walked. The air felt cooler as you moved away from the crowd, but the heat between the two of you only intensified with each step.

By the time you reached the door to his dressing room, your heart was racing so fast it felt like it might burst out of your chest. Every step you took down the corridor had been charged with anticipation, your pulse quickening with each second, each unspoken word between you and Remy. You could still feel the lingering heat of the room you'd just left, still hear the faint hum of voices and music filtering through the walls, but it all felt so distant now—like the world outside had shrunk, leaving just the two of you in this bubble of heightened energy and unspoken desire.

Remy opened the door with an easy grace, his hand lingering on the handle as he gestured for you to step inside. The room was dimly lit, just the soft glow of a lamp in the corner casting warm, golden light over the space. There was no harshness, no coldness—it felt intimate, like a place where secrets could be shared and moments could stretch into forever. The air in the room was cooler than the heat of the venue, but it was thick with something else, something palpable between you, something that had been building all night.

As you stepped inside, you could feel the weight of the moment settling over you, a bittersweet mix of nerves and excitement surging through your veins. The door clicked shut behind you, and the faint sounds of the distant music were muted, leaving only a soft hum in the background. It felt like a cocoon, a space where the outside world no longer existed, where the chaos and noise of the night couldn’t reach you.

You turned to face him, and that fragile tension—so carefully held in check since the moment you had caught him watching you from the stage—finally snapped. The charged atmosphere between you suddenly ignited, and in the span of a breath, Remy closed the distance between you. His movements were deliberate but urgent, a man who had been waiting for this as much as you had. His hands, strong and sure, slid around your waist, pulling you close, the warmth of his body pressing against yours.

Then, his lips found yours.

The kiss was soft at first, testing, as if both of you were feeling out the boundaries of this moment. But it didn’t stay soft for long. The urgency that had been simmering beneath the surface began to rise, like a flame fanned by a gust of wind. His lips pressed harder against yours, and your hands instinctively reached for him, fingers tangling in his dark hair as you pulled him closer, needing him closer. His breath hitched as your fingers slid through the strands, and you could feel the way his body responded to your touch, the way his grip on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against him.

And just like that, everything else fell away.

The music, the crowd, the chaos of the night—it all melted into the background, like a distant memory that no longer mattered. All that existed was the heat between your bodies, the taste of him on your lips, the way his hands roamed over your back, exploring, wanting. Each kiss, each touch, sent sparks of electricity shooting through you, lighting up every nerve, every inch of your skin. It was overwhelming in the best way possible, like the night had been building to this moment all along.

You weren’t thinking about your ex anymore. He had been nothing more than a brief, bitter distraction, a fleeting shadow that had been erased by the intensity of what was happening now. You weren’t thinking about the way his arm had been slung around her shoulders, or the way they had laughed as if you didn’t exist. That whole mess, that entire chapter of your life, felt miles away—insignificant in the face of what you were feeling now.

All you could focus on was Remy—the way his hands moved over your skin, the way his breath came in short, shallow bursts between kisses. His lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw, then down to your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. Your heart was pounding so hard you were sure he could feel it against his chest, but you didn’t care. You had never felt so alive, so seen, as you did in that moment, with him.

There was something intoxicating about the way he touched you, like he was both savoring every second and barely able to contain himself. His fingers slid under the hem of your shirt, the warmth of his skin against yours sending another jolt through your body. Your breath caught in your throat, and when his lips found yours again, it was like the world tilted on its axis, spinning faster, pulling you deeper into the gravity of this moment.

Time seemed to stretch, to bend around you, making every second feel heavy with possibility. You could feel the weight of his desire in the way he kissed you, in the way his hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer, closer—like he couldn’t get enough. And the truth was, you didn’t want him to stop. You didn’t want this moment to end.

Your back hit the wall gently, and before you knew it, his body was pressed against yours, his hands framing your face as he kissed you with a hunger that matched your own. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the way his chest rose and fell in time with your own ragged breaths. It was all-consuming, the kind of connection that made everything else fade into oblivion.

For the first time in a long time, you felt free—untethered from the weight of your past, from the pain of your ex, from the expectations you had placed on yourself. With Remy, it was different. It was easy. It was exactly what you hadn’t realized you needed.

And as his hands slid lower, his lips brushing against your ear, whispering something low and full of promise, you let go completely, surrendering to the moment, to him. “Fuck,” Remy muttered, his voice thick with lust, dripping with raw desire. His accent was heavier now, his words rolling off his tongue like a prayer, one meant only for you. “Y’re so fucking beautiful.”

The room around you seemed to fade, the dim lighting casting long shadows along the walls, isolating the two of you in this moment. His words sent a shiver down your spine, your pulse quickening as heat pooled low in your stomach. Your breaths were shallow, your heart pounding in your chest, but before you could even muster a response, Remy’s hands were on your thighs.

Strong, calloused hands slid up your legs, pushing them apart with deliberate ease, his touch firm but gentle, like he was savoring every second. Time seemed to slow as he sank to his knees before you, his body lowering gracefully, and the sight of him—Remy LeBeau, on his knees for you—made your heart stutter in your chest. He looked up at you, his eyes dark and full of hunger, lips parted slightly, and you sucked in a breath. There was something primal in his gaze, something that made you feel like you were the only thing in the world he wanted at this moment.

You gasped as his fingers found the edge of your shorts, teasing the fabric aside as he slipped beneath the hem, his fingertips brushing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. The touch was light, almost teasing, but it sent a jolt of electricity straight to your core, your body responding instantly to his proximity, to the heat of his breath against your skin.

"Remy," you breathed, your voice barely audible, strained and shaky, trembling with need. Your eyes locked onto his, and the way he looked up at you—kneeling before you like a worshipper at an altar—made your knees weak.

He grinned, that familiar, wicked curve of his lips that drove you wild, and without breaking eye contact, his fingers dipped further, tracing soft circles along your inner thigh, inching closer to where you needed him most. Your breath hitched in your throat, anticipation running hot through your veins, every nerve ending in your body attuned to his touch.

With one swift motion, his fingers slid beneath your shorts and into your underwear, finding the wetness between your legs, and you gasped at the sensation. His touch was confident, practiced, knowing. He pressed his fingers against your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you cry out. Your hips jerked involuntarily toward him, your body desperate for more, for everything he was giving you.

"So wet," he murmured, his voice a low growl, the words vibrating against your skin. The sound of it sent another wave of heat coursing through you. His head tilted slightly as he watched your reaction, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “So ready for me.”

You couldn’t even find the words to respond, your mind lost in the haze of pleasure as his fingers continued their slow, deliberate rhythm. His thumb circled your clit in torturously slow strokes, each movement sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body. You could feel the tension building inside you, each stroke bringing you closer to the edge. Your hands flew to his shoulders, fingers gripping tightly, nails digging into his skin as you tried to ground yourself against the overwhelming sensations.

Your body was trembling, your breaths coming in shallow gasps. You were right on the edge, teetering there, your thighs trembling against his hands, your entire body aching with the need to come. You could feel it building, that sweet, aching pressure deep in your core, and you moaned, your voice a broken plea.

But just when you were about to tip over into bliss, Remy’s fingers withdrew, leaving you gasping, your body trembling, your mind reeling from the sudden loss of contact. You opened your eyes, half-lidded and dazed, your body still throbbing with need, and you stared down at him, your chest heaving.

"Please," you whispered, your voice hoarse with desperation, your hands tightening on his shoulders. "Don’t stop." You could barely form the words, your body crying out for more, for him.

Remy’s lips curled into a wicked smile, his eyes dark with amusement and promise as he slowly stood, his body towering over you now, casting a long shadow in the dim light. His fingers, still slick with you, brushed against your lip for the briefest moment before he wiped them on his jeans, never once breaking eye contact. There was something predatory in the way he looked at you, something that made your pulse quicken all over again, your body aching for him to finish what he’d started.

“Oh, I’m far from done with you,” he murmured, his voice dripping with sinful promise, each word sending shivers down your spine. He reached down, his hand brushing your cheek for a moment, the touch strangely tender considering the hunger in his eyes. Then his fingers slid down your jaw, tracing the line of your neck, lingering there as if feeling your pulse race beneath his fingertips.

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching as his hand moved lower, over your collarbone, down the curve of your chest, before settling at the hem of your shirt. He tugged at it gently, his eyes flicking to yours, silently asking for permission. Your breath caught in your throat, but you nodded, your body already aching for more of him, already craving the feel of his skin against yours.

In one fluid motion, he lifted your shirt over your head, casting it aside without a second thought. You were bare before him now, and the way his eyes roamed over your body, dark and intense, made your skin flush with heat. He stepped closer, so close that you could feel his breath, warm and heavy against your skin.

His hands, large and sure, moved to your waist, pulling you toward him, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was deep and demanding. His mouth was hot against yours, his tongue sliding between your lips, and you moaned into the kiss, your hands gripping his arms, feeling the muscles flex beneath your fingers as he held you close.

The kiss deepened, turning more urgent, more desperate, as your bodies pressed together, the heat between you growing unbearable. His fingers dug into your hips, pulling you flush against him, and you could feel how hard he was through his jeans, his arousal pressing insistently against your thigh. The friction sent another wave of desire crashing through you, and you arched into him, your body begging for more.

Remy broke the kiss, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "I’m gonn’ make y’ scream my name tonight." His voice was a low growl, full of promise, and the sound of it made your core tighten with anticipation.

You were already lost to him, already craving everything he had promised. Your body trembled with the need to feel him inside you, to have him everywhere all at once. You could barely think, barely breathe, as he guided you backward toward the couch, his hands never leaving your body, his lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, over your chest, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

When your legs hit the edge of the couch, you sank down onto it, your body trembling with anticipation. Remy stood over you for a moment, his eyes raking over your body with a look that was nothing short of ravenous. He made quick work of his shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside, and your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him—his chest broad, his muscles taut, every inch of him exuding raw, masculine power.

He lowered himself onto the couch, his body pressing against yours, his lips finding your skin once more. The weight of him, the feel of his bare skin against yours, sent another wave of desire crashing through you. His hands roamed freely now, exploring every inch of you, and you arched into his touch, your body aching for more, for everything he had to give. His hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve, every dip, with a possessive intensity that made your heart race and your breath catch in your throat. There was something about the way Remy touched you—like he was memorizing you, staking his claim with every brush of his fingers. His palms slid up your sides, tracing the lines of your body, before cupping your breasts. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, slow at first, teasing, until they hardened into tight peaks beneath his touch. The sensation pulled a low moan from your lips, your back arching involuntarily as you pressed yourself against him, craving more.

His mouth was on yours again, hungry and insistent, his tongue moving against yours in a dance that was equal parts dominance and submission. It was a battle for control, one you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to win. The heat between you was palpable, thick in the air, making it hard to think, hard to breathe. Every kiss, every touch, was like gasoline poured on an already roaring fire, and you were both more than willing to let it burn.

"Y; taste so good," Remy murmured against your lips, his voice rough and gravelly, thick with desire. His breath was hot as it ghosted over your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

His words made your pulse quicken, a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your stomach. Before you could respond, his hand began its descent, sliding down your body with deliberate slowness. His fingers skimmed over your stomach, teasing the waistband of your shorts, and then dipping beneath it, his touch featherlight but full of promise. The anticipation made your thighs clench, your body aching for him to touch you where you needed him most.

When his fingers finally slipped beneath your panties, finding your slick folds, you gasped, your hips instinctively lifting toward him. The sensation was electric, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core as his fingers began to move, stroking you with expert precision. He found your clit almost immediately, circling it with his thumb in slow, deliberate movements that made your breath hitch and your body tremble.

"Remy," you gasped, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, your voice trembling as he touched you. His fingers pressed deeper, probing, seeking out the most sensitive spots, and your body responded instantly, arching into his hand, desperate for more.

He watched you as he worked, his eyes dark and filled with lust, taking in every reaction, every gasp, every moan. There was something almost predatory in the way he looked at you, like he was savoring the sight of you unraveling beneath him. His thumb moved faster now, circling your clit with a pressure that was both perfect and overwhelming, and you could feel yourself teetering on the edge, your body trembling as the pleasure built higher and higher.

"Please…" you whimpered, your voice breaking as you felt yourself getting closer, your entire body taut with anticipation, teetering on the edge of release.

But just as you were about to tip over, Remy pulled back, his fingers slipping away, leaving you gasping, your body aching with need. Your eyes flew open, wide and desperate, and you looked up at him, your chest heaving, your pulse pounding in your ears.

"Beg f’r it," he commanded, his voice low and rough, filled with a dark, commanding edge that sent a shiver down your spine. His gaze was intense, his lips curled into a wicked smile, and for a moment, your pride flared up, making you hesitate. But the need was too strong, too overwhelming, and before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out of you.

"Please, Remy," you whispered, your voice trembling, your body trembling. "Please, make me come."

There was a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes, his smile widening as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your skin. "Tha’ my girl," he murmured, his voice dripping with approval, and then his mouth was on you.

He slid down your body, positioning himself between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs as he removed your shorts, leaving you fully exposed to him. You barely had time to catch your breath before his mouth descended on your throbbing clit, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bundle of nerves with a speed and precision that made you cry out. Your hands flew to his hair, your fingers tangling in the dark strands as you held on for dear life, your body trembling beneath the onslaught of sensation.

Remy devoured you like a man starved, his tongue working you with an intensity that bordered on desperate. He alternated between long, slow licks and quick, precise flicks of his tongue, driving you absolutely wild with need. Your hips bucked against him, your body moving on its own as you chased the pleasure, the tension inside you building higher and higher with every stroke of his tongue.

"Fuck," you gasped, your voice barely coherent, your body trembling uncontrollably as he worked you closer and closer to the edge. It was too much, too intense, and yet you didn’t want it to stop. You were desperate for release, your thighs shaking, your nerves singing with pleasure as his tongue moved faster, pushing you right to the brink.

"Remy," you whimpered, your voice high and desperate, your grip on his hair tightening as your body tensed. "I’m gonna—"

He didn’t let up. His tongue continued its relentless assault, flicking over your clit with a speed and precision that left you gasping for breath. He was merciless, pushing you closer and closer until finally, with a shuddering gasp, you came. The orgasm hit you like a wave, crashing over you and pulling you under, your body convulsing as the pleasure ripped through you in uncontrollable, shuddering waves.

You cried out, your vision blurring as the intensity of it overwhelmed you, your entire body trembling beneath his touch. But Remy didn’t stop. His tongue kept moving, softer now but still persistent, drawing out every last bit of your orgasm until you were left gasping, your chest heaving, your heart pounding in your ears.

You were barely aware of your surroundings as you came down from the high, your body still trembling, your thighs slick with sweat and the aftermath of your release. Remy’s hands slid up your legs, soothing now, his touch gentle as he kissed his way up your stomach, his lips soft and warm against your skin.

When he finally reached your mouth, he kissed you deeply, his tongue sliding against yours in a lazy, unhurried way that sent a new wave of heat through your body. You could taste yourself on his lips, a reminder of what had just happened, and it made your already racing heart pound even harder.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath, his eyes dark and full of desire as he looked down at you. "I’m not done with y’ yet," he murmured, his voice low and full of promise.

You swallowed hard, your body still humming with the remnants of your orgasm, but the hunger in his eyes sent another jolt of anticipation through you. You knew he meant every word, and as he leaned in to kiss you again, you realized you didn’t want him to stop.

Not tonight. Not ever. He held your gaze, eyes dark and unyielding, the weight of his presence suffocating in the most delicious way. His body was close, too close, the heat rolling off him in waves that made your skin prickle with anticipation. When he finally spoke, his voice was a low, gravelly growl that sent shivers racing down your spine.

"Tell me what y’ wan’."

The command hung in the air, thick and heavy, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. Your heart thundered in your chest, the words you desperately wanted to say caught in your throat. But his gaze was relentless, pinning you in place, demanding your confession. You swallowed hard, your breath shaky as you finally gave in to the desire burning inside you.

"I want…" you hesitated, the flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck, but the raw need in his eyes pushed you forward. "I want you to spank me," you whispered, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I want you to be my Daddy."

A slow, predatory smile curled at the corner of his lips, sending a thrill of anticipation through you. He moved closer, his body pressing into yours, pinning you against the soft cushions of the couch. His fingers tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze, and the intensity in his eyes made the air feel thick and heavy.

"Tha’s my girl," he murmured, his voice rough but filled with unmistakable pride. The praise wrapped around you like a warm blanket, making your skin tingle. "Y’re going to be such a good girl fo’ Daddy, aren’ y’?"

Your throat was tight, but you nodded, barely able to get the words out. "Yes, Daddy." His smile widened, a dark, possessive gleam flashing in his eyes as his hands slid slowly down your body, fingertips grazing your skin with deliberate intent. Each touch sent a ripple of anticipation through you, the tension between you growing thicker by the second. He pulled back just enough to take in the sight of you, his gaze roaming over your body as though you were his to command—and you were.

“Bend over,” he ordered, his voice low, authoritative, and laced with a hunger that made your pulse quicken.

You stood up, the cool air brushing against your skin, making you feel exposed in the most thrilling way. But there was no hesitation in your movements. You held his gaze, a small, teasing smile curling at the corners of your lips as you obeyed, the desire in his eyes only fueling the heat pooling deep in your stomach. The intensity of his stare, the hunger he didn’t bother to hide, made your body hum with anticipation.

"You ready for Daddy?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that made your core tighten with need.

You nodded, your breath coming in short bursts as you braced yourself, your hands gripping the cushions beneath you. The tension coiled in your muscles, every nerve on high alert as you waited for the first strike.

The first slap landed with a sharp crack, the sound echoing through the room. The sting of it spread across your ass, sharp and hot, and you gasped, your body jerking forward from the force. But there was no time to adjust, no time to catch your breath—his hand was already coming down again, harder this time.

The rhythm he set was punishing, each slap harder than the last, the sharp pain blending beautifully into the growing pleasure. Your skin burned where his hand struck, the heat blooming in waves that spread through your entire body. You moaned, your hips lifting instinctively, pushing back toward him, craving more.

"Such a good girl," he murmured, his voice soothing but firm, like he was rewarding your submission even as his hand came down again. "Taking it so well for Daddy."

The praise made your chest tighten with something heady and warm, your core throbbing with need. You could feel the wetness between your thighs growing, the ache there intensifying with each slap. The mix of pain and pleasure, of his control and your willingness to submit, was intoxicating. Your mind was spinning, lost in the haze of sensation as your body trembled beneath him.

You whimpered, your skin tingling with every strike, the heat radiating from your ass as his hand continued its relentless assault. The sound of flesh meeting flesh filled the room, punctuated by your gasps and moans. The pain was delicious, sharp and biting, but it only fueled the fire burning inside you.

Remy’s hand finally stilled, resting against your heated skin, his fingers brushing over the marks he’d left. The gentleness of his touch after the punishment made your breath hitch, sending another wave of arousal through you. You could feel your body trembling, teetering on the edge of something raw and powerful.

"Turn around," he commanded, his voice low and rough, leaving no room for argument.

Your legs were shaking as you obeyed, turning to face him on the couch. Your heart raced, your body still buzzing from the spanking as you looked up at him. His eyes were dark, filled with an intensity that made your chest tighten. He looked down at you like you were his possession, something precious and fragile but also something he could break if he wanted to.

"Daddy’s proud of y’" he murmured, his voice soft, almost tender. The words sent a ripple of warmth through you, making your skin flush with pride. But then his expression shifted, darkening with a hunger that made your breath catch in your throat. "But Daddy needs to hear y’ beg."

Your breath hitched, your body trembling as you looked up at him, your mind spinning with the mixture of fear and anticipation. The weight of his command hung heavy in the air, and you knew there was no escaping it. You wanted to beg. Needed to.

"Please, Daddy," you whispered, your voice trembling with desperation. "Please, make me come."

A slow, wicked smile spread across his face, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he stepped closer, looming over you. His hand reached out, fingers brushing over your cheek before trailing down to your throat. His grip was firm but gentle as his fingers curled around your neck, his thumb brushing over the rapid pulse at your throat.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice low and filled with approval. The words he spoke made your heart swell, a warmth spreading through your chest that left you feeling both vulnerable and powerful at the same time. You were his, completely in this moment, but knowing that you still held the reins—that he was listening, that he would stop if you asked—made your body tingle with anticipation. His grip tightened ever so slightly, just enough for your breath to hitch, and the sensation sent a jolt of electricity through you. Every nerve in your body was alight, your skin buzzing with the promise of what was to come.

"Just let me know if you need me to stop. You double tap if you need me to stop," he said softly, his voice a deep rumble that vibrated through you. The reassurance grounded you, a reminder that despite the intensity, this was still your choice. The control you had over the situation only made your submission all the more intoxicating. You wanted this, craved it, and he knew it.

The sensation of his hand around your throat was overwhelming, the pressure making your pulse race beneath his fingers. It wasn’t just about the physicality of it—it was the power in his touch, the way it made you feel utterly exposed and completely his. Your body responded instantly, a flood of heat pooling between your legs as his thumb brushed over your pulse. The world felt smaller, quieter, like nothing existed outside of this moment, outside of the way his hand made you submit so completely.

His breath was hot against your ear, his voice a low, commanding whisper that made your stomach tighten with desire. "I wan’ta see those pretty eyes on me when you beg, baby."

The words sent a shiver down your spine, your body trembling at the raw hunger in his voice. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the tension thick in the air as you struggled to catch your breath. His grip on your throat tightened just enough to make your vision blur at the edges, and your eyes fluttered open, meeting his.

"Look a’ me," he growled, his voice low and demanding, and the way he said it made your heart lurch in your chest.

Your gaze locked with his, and the intensity in his eyes made the air feel heavy, like it was pressing down on you. His eyes were dark, filled with fierce possession, and the look he gave you made your entire body hum with need. Your breath came in short, shaky bursts, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you struggled to hold his gaze. It was almost too much, the way he looked at you—like he owned you, like he wanted to consume you whole.

The pressure of his hand around your throat made your head spin, a dizzying mixture of fear and desire swirling inside you. You gasped, your hands instinctively flying to his wrist, but you didn’t want him to stop. The sensation was overwhelming, the heat between your legs growing unbearable as your body throbbed with anticipation. The world outside felt distant, unimportant, as you focused entirely on the feeling of his hand on your throat, on the way your body responded to his touch.

"Beg," he growled, his voice thick with authority, the single word sending a wave of heat crashing through you. "Beg Daddy to make y’ come."

You whimpered, your voice barely a whisper as you struggled to find the words. The need inside you was overwhelming, consuming, and all you could think about was how much you wanted him, how much you needed him. "Please," you gasped, your voice shaking as his grip tightened just a little more. "Please, Daddy… I need you. Please make me come."

The satisfaction in his eyes was immediate, unmistakable. His thumb brushed over your pulse, feeling the frantic beating of your heart beneath his fingers as he loosened his grip just enough for you to breathe again. His mouth curled into a dark, satisfied smile, his gaze never leaving yours as he watched the way you trembled beneath him.

"Oh you beautiful girl," he murmured, his voice dripping with pride and approval. The praise sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, your body reacting to his words as much as his touch. His hand moved from your throat, trailing down your body, his fingers brushing over every inch of bare skin with deliberate slowness, like he was savoring the way you shivered beneath him.

He sank to his knees between your legs, and the anticipation made your breath catch in your throat. You barely had time to process the shift before his mouth was on you, his tongue flicking over your clit with a precision that made your body jerk in response. The sensation was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. Your hands flew to his hair, your fingers curling into the dark strands as you held on, desperate for more.

The way his tongue moved—deliberate, intense, relentless—was driving you wild. Each flick, each stroke, sent you spiraling higher, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as you struggled to hold yourself together. Your body was trembling, your thighs shaking as he worked you with expert precision, his hands gripping your hips to hold you in place as you squirmed beneath him.

"Remy," you whimpered, your voice high and desperate as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. "I’m gonna—"

But he didn’t stop. His mouth continued its assault, his tongue flicking over your clit with unrelenting speed, pushing you closer and closer to the edge until, with a final flick of his tongue, you came undone. The orgasm hit you like a wave, crashing over you with a force that left you gasping for air, your body convulsing as the pleasure tore through you.

"That’s it," he murmured, his voice soothing, grounding you as you came down from the high. "Take it, baby. Take everything Daddy gives you."

Each word was like a balm, softening the sharp edges of your pleasure, grounding you as the intensity began to fade. But your body was still trembling, still humming with the aftershocks of the orgasm, and you could feel the heat between your legs still pulsing with need.

Your heart was still racing, your body trembling from the echo of the last orgasm, but the hunger in his eyes told you this wasn’t over. Far from it. The kiss he gave you was searing, possessive, but it was also a promise—one that left you breathless and aching for more. His hands still roamed your body, slow and deliberate, as if he was mapping out every sensitive spot, every place that made you tremble. You could feel the intensity radiating off him, the way his touch lingered with purpose, pushing you closer to an edge you weren’t sure you were ready to face—but you wanted to, needed to.

He drew back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and filled with something almost predatory. His thumb brushed over your swollen lips, his gaze flicking between your eyes as if searching for a sign. A brief flicker of hesitation crossed his face, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by that same, unwavering confidence. He knew exactly what he wanted, and he was going to take it.

"Y’ can take more," he murmured, his voice a low growl. "I know y’ can. Y’re such a good girl, and I’m not done with y’ yet."

Your breath hitched at his words, the heat in your stomach flaring to life again as your body responded to his command. You nodded, but it wasn’t enough. His grip on your chin tightened, tilting your head up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

"Say it," he demanded, his voice firm but laced with a tenderness that made your chest tighten. "Tell me y’ can take it for Daddy."

"I can," you whispered, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and anticipation. "I can take it for you, Daddy."

A slow, satisfied smile spread across his face, and his grip loosened, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip once more before sliding down your throat, lingering there for a moment as if to remind you of the control he held over your body. The pressure was light, but it was enough to make your pulse quicken, enough to remind you how easy it would be for him to take you further than you’d ever gone before.

"Good girl," he murmured, the words sending a ripple of heat through your body. "Now get on your knees."

His command was simple, but the weight of it was overwhelming. Your legs were still shaky, your body trembling from the intensity of what had just happened, but you obeyed, sliding off the couch and sinking to your knees in front of him. The feeling of the cool floor beneath you contrasted sharply with the heat radiating off your skin, grounding you even as your mind spun with anticipation.

Remy towered over you, his presence almost suffocating in its intensity. He looked down at you, his eyes filled with dark desire, and the way he watched you—like a predator watching its prey—made your heart race even faster. You felt small beneath him, vulnerable, but it only fueled the aching need inside you. You wanted to please him, to give him everything he asked for.

"D’y know what I want, baby?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you.

Your mouth felt dry, your voice barely a whisper as you answered. "No, Daddy. Tell me."

He chuckled softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "I wan’t see how far I can push y’," he said, his tone dark and full of promise. "I want to see y’ break for me, but y’re going to ask for it. Y’re going to beg me to take y’ there."

The words hit you like a wave, the meaning behind them settling deep in your core. He wasn’t just going to push you—he was going to make you want it, make you beg for it. The thought made your stomach twist with anticipation, the ache between your legs growing unbearable as you knelt before him, waiting for his next move.

His hand slid to the back of your neck, his grip firm but not painful, as he tilted your head up to meet his gaze. "Open y’ mouth," he ordered, his voice soft, but the command in it was unmistakable.

You obeyed without hesitation, parting your lips as you looked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. The vulnerability of the position you were in, the way he was looking down at you as though he owned you, made your entire body burn with need. You wanted him to take you further, wanted him to push your limits in ways you’d never imagined.

He slid two fingers into your mouth, pressing them down on your tongue as he watched you intently. The taste of his skin was intoxicating, and you closed your lips around his fingers, sucking gently as you gazed up at him with wide, pleading eyes. His grip on your neck tightened slightly, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he watched you.

"That’s it," he murmured, his voice thick with approval. "Such a good girl for Daddy."

Your body responded instantly to the praise, a fresh wave of arousal flooding through you as you sucked harder on his fingers, your tongue swirling around them. His eyes darkened, and you could see the satisfaction in his gaze, the way he was reveling in the control he had over you.

He pulled his fingers from your mouth, leaving you gasping for breath as your lips parted with a soft, wet sound. His thumb brushed over your chin, wiping away the moisture before he tilted your head back further, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"Y’re going to beg for this," he said, his voice low and commanding. "’nd y’re not going to stop until I’m ready to give it to y’."

The heat between your legs was unbearable now, your body trembling with need as his words sank in. You wanted to beg, wanted to give him everything he asked for, but your voice felt trapped in your throat, the intensity of the moment making it hard to breathe.

"Please, Daddy," you whispered, your voice barely audible as you looked up at him with wide, desperate eyes. "Please… I need you."

His smile widened, dark and predatory, as he stepped closer, looming over you. His presence was overwhelming, suffocating in the best possible way, and the way he looked down at you made your heart race even faster.

"I know y’ do," he murmured, his voice soft but laced with authority. "But y’’re going to have to work for it, baby. Show me how much y’ want it."

With that, he unzipped his pants, his movements slow and deliberate, giving you just enough time to process what was about to happen. Your heart pounded in your chest, your body trembling with anticipation as he freed himself, his cock hard and thick, the sight of it making your mouth water.

He stroked himself once, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched the way your breath quickened, the way your body responded to the sight of him. Then, without warning, he gripped the back of your neck again, guiding you toward him.

"Open," he commanded, his voice a low growl.

Your lips parted instantly, your body moving on instinct as he guided his cock into your mouth. The sensation was overwhelming, the weight of him heavy on your tongue, and you moaned around him, your body trembling with need as you took him deeper.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice thick with approval as he watched you. "Take it all for Daddy."

You did your best to obey, your throat constricting as he pushed deeper, the sensation making your eyes water. But you didn’t stop—you didn’t want to stop. You wanted to please him, to show him how much you could take.

His grip on your neck tightened as he began to move, thrusting slowly into your mouth, his eyes never leaving yours. The intensity of the moment, the way he was using you, made your body burn with need, the ache between your legs growing unbearable.

"Look at y’," he growled, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Such a good little slut for Daddy."

The words sent a jolt of pleasure through you, your body responding instantly to the degradation. You could feel your pussy throbbing, the need for release consuming you as he continued to thrust into your mouth, each movement pushing you closer to the edge.

You moaned around him, your hands gripping his thighs as you tried to take him deeper, the pleasure and pain blending together in a way that made your head spin. You could feel your body trembling, your vision blurring with the intensity of it all, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop.

"Beg for it," he growled again, his voice a low, commanding rumble. "Beg Daddy to let you come."

You pulled back just enough to speak, your voice shaking as you looked up at him with wide, desperate eyes. "Please, Daddy," you gasped, your voice barely a whisper. "Please let me come. I need it."

His eyes darkened, his expression filled with satisfaction as he watched you. "Y’ll come when I say y’ can," he growled, his voice thick with authority. "And not a second before."

The words sent a fresh wave of arousal crashing through you, your body trembling with the need to obey. You didn’t know how much more you could take, but you trusted him to push you to your limit—to give you exactly what you needed, even if you didn’t know what that was yet.

"Now," he murmured, his voice dropping to a low growl as his grip tightened on your neck. "Let’s see how far I can take y’." Remy’s presence loomed over you, dark and intoxicating, his eyes gleaming with something primal, something that made your heart race and your body ache with need. His grip on your neck tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you of the control he held over you. The way he looked at you, like he was savoring every second of your submission, sent shivers down your spine.

"Ah, cher," he murmured, his deep Cajun drawl thick and dripping with honey, "you ain’t seen nothin’ yet. You think you’re ready for more, but you gon’ have to beg me real sweet. I wanna hear how much you need it."

His accent wrapped around you like a sultry summer night, the smooth cadence of his voice making the air around you feel heavy and thick. The sound of his words sent a jolt of heat straight to your core, your body reacting instantly to the way his voice dripped with authority, with promise.

"Please," you whispered, your voice trembling as you looked up at him, eyes wide and desperate. "Please, Remy, I need more."

He chuckled softly, a low, rumbling sound that seemed to vibrate through your entire body. His thumb traced a slow line down the side of your neck, lingering over your pulse point, feeling the frantic beat of your heart beneath his fingers.

"More?" he repeated, his accent lingering on the word, making it sound almost like a tease. His eyes were dark, filled with a hunger that made your stomach flip. "I don’t know if you can handle more, cher. But you gon’ prove it to me, non?"

You nodded quickly, eager, your breath coming in short, shaky bursts as you fought to hold his gaze. Your body was trembling, every nerve alight with anticipation, with the need to be pushed further, to see just how far he could take you.

Remy tilted his head, his smirk widening as he studied you, his thumb pressing a little harder against your throat, just enough to make your breath catch. "Y’ gon’ beg me. Beg me proper. Tell Daddy exactly what y’ need."

Your heart was pounding in your chest, the heat between your legs growing unbearable as his words coiled around you like a snake. The way his accent made every word sound like a command, left you desperate, aching for whatever he was willing to give.

"Please, Daddy," you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper. "Please push me. I need it. I need you."

His eyes darkened at your words, satisfaction flashing across his face as he released your throat and let his hand trail down your body. His fingers were slow, deliberate, as they traced the curve of your hips, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

"Bon," he murmured, his voice low and full of approval. "That’s my good girl. Y’ wanna be pushed till y’ can’t take no more, hmm? Y’ wanna see how far Daddy can take y’?"

You nodded, your breath catching in your throat as his hand moved lower, teasingly slow, inching toward the heat between your legs. The anticipation was unbearable, your body trembling as you waited for his touch, for him to take control again.

"You gon’ ask for everythin’, cher. Every. Damn. Thing," he growled, his voice thick with his Cajun drawl, each word dripping with dominance. "An’ you ain’t stoppin’ till Daddy says so."

His fingers finally brushed over your clit, and you gasped, your body jolting at the sudden contact. But it wasn’t enough—not nearly enough. You needed more, craved more, and you knew that he was going to make you beg for it.

"Remy," you whimpered, your voice high and needy, your body shaking as his fingers continued their slow, torturous movements. "Please… more."

His lips curled into a wicked grin, his accent thick as honey as he leaned in close to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "You want more? You gon’ have to work for it. Show me how bad you need it."

He began to circle your clit with maddening slowness, the pressure just enough to drive you wild but not enough to give you relief. The frustration built inside you, your hips instinctively bucking up toward his hand, but he held you firmly in place, his grip on your waist unyielding.

"No, no, cher," he drawled, his voice a low purr. "You don’t get to move till I say so. You gon’ take what I give you, and you gon’ be a good girl while you do it."

The dominance in his voice, the way he controlled every movement, every sensation, made your head spin. You could feel the heat building inside you, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter, but he wasn’t letting you have anything more than a taste. Your body was desperate for release, but you knew he wasn’t going to give it to you without making you beg for it.

"Please," you gasped, your voice breaking as you struggled to keep still beneath him. "Please, Remy, I’ll be good. I’ll do anything—just, please, I need more."

He chuckled again, a dark, rumbling sound that made your skin tingle. "That’s better. But I don’t think y’ beggin’ hard enough, non? I wanna hear y’ cry for me. I wanna hear that desperation."

His fingers pressed harder against your clit, the pressure sending a wave of pleasure through you that made your legs tremble, but still, it wasn’t enough. You needed more, needed him to take you over the edge, to push you further than you’d ever been before.

Your breath hitched, your hands flying to his wrist, but he didn’t let up, didn’t give you an inch of control. You were his, completely, and the knowledge of that made you tremble with need.

"Please, Daddy," you whimpered, your voice trembling as you looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes. "Please make me come. I need it. I need you."

Remy’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he watched you squirm beneath him. "Ah, there she is," he murmured, his voice thick with approval.

Without warning, he slid two fingers inside you, his thumb pressing hard against your clit as he began to thrust with a relentless, punishing rhythm. The sensation was overwhelming, the pleasure building so quickly that it left you gasping for air, your body arching up against him as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

But even as your body trembled, even as the pleasure threatened to consume you, he didn’t let you have it. He kept you right on the edge, his movements precise, controlled, designed to keep you teetering on the brink without ever falling over.

"Y’ feel that?" he growled, his voice low and rough, his accent thick with desire. "Y’ right there, but you don’t get to come till I say so. Y’ gon’ take everythin’ I give y’, an’ y’ gon’ thank me for it."

Your body was shaking, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps as you fought to hold on, to stay in control, but it was impossible. The sensation of his fingers inside you, the pressure on your clit, the sound of his voice—it was all too much.

"Please," you cried, your voice breaking as you begged him for release. "Please, Daddy, please let me come. I can’t take it anymore."

Remy’s eyes darkened, his grin widening as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "Then come for me, cher," he growled, his accent thick and commanding. "Come for Daddy."

And with that, the coil inside you snapped, the orgasm crashing over you with such force that it left you gasping for air. Your body convulsed, trembling violently as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you, leaving you utterly undone beneath him.

"That’s it," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm against the intensity of your release. "Good girl, bébé. Y’ take what Daddy gives you."

Your vision blurred, your entire body trembling as you rode out the orgasm, your mind spinning with the overwhelming intensity of it all. You barely registered Remy’s thumb brushing over your swollen lips, or the way his grip on your waist tightened, steadying you as you came down from the high.

But even as your body began to relax, even as the aftershocks of pleasure rippled through you, you knew that Remy wasn’t done. Not yet.

Remy's eyes burned with a heat that almost made you shy away, but the pull between you two was undeniable. His Cajun accent was thick, dripping with lust as he let out a low, rumbling chuckle that sent a shiver straight down your spine. You knew you were walking on the edge now, and he was about to push you over.

"Ah, cher," he drawled, his voice thick like molasses, rich and smooth, "y’ been beggin' so sweet, but now you gon’ really see what it means to be mine." His hand wrapped around the back of your neck, pulling you close until you could feel his breath ghosting over your lips. "Y’ ready for Daddy to fuck you like you need?"

Your answer came in the form of a ragged breath, your body pulsing with anticipation. Every nerve in your body was alive with the need for him, for the way he controlled you, the way he made you feel like no one else ever could. You nodded, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to hear it from you.

"I asked y’ a question, cher," he murmured, his lips brushing just against the corner of your mouth, teasing you with a kiss he hadn’t yet given. "Tell me what you want."

"Please," you gasped, barely able to form the words as your body trembled under his touch. "Please, Daddy… I need you inside me. I need you to fuck me."

Remy’s eyes darkened, his grip on you tightening as a feral smile tugged at his lips. "Bon," he growled. "That’s what I like to hear."

Without another word, his hands were on you, strong and commanding. He grabbed your hips, pulling you against him with a force that left you breathless. Before you could process it, he lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you toward the dresser with a confidence that only made the ache between your legs worse.

"Y’ feel that, cher?" he whispered, his voice low and rough, his accent wrapping around you like a caress. "You feel how hard I am for y’?" He ground his hips against you, and you could feel the thick length of him pressing against your core. The sensation made you gasp, your body arching into him as your need for him grew unbearable.

"Remy," you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders. "Please, I can’t wait anymore."

He let out a low, rumbling laugh, his grip tightening on your thighs as he pressed your back against the wall. "Oh, cher, you ain’t gotta wait no more. Daddy’s gon’ give you exactly what you been beggin’ for."

His hands were rough but reverent as they trailed up your thighs, spreading you open as he pinned you against the dresser with his body, completely at his mercy.

"You so wet for me," he murmured, his voice thick with approval. "Been wantin’ this, haven’t ya? Wantin’ Daddy to take care of y’?"

"Yes," you gasped, your body trembling as his fingers brushed over your slick folds. "Please, I need you."

"Shhh," he whispered, his lips grazing your ear. "I got y’, cher. I’m gon’ take care of y’ real good."

With that, he gripped himself, pressing against your entrance. You could feel the heat, the wetness. The anticipation, the need, was almost too much to bear, and you could feel your body trembling with the sheer intensity of it.

"Look at y’," he murmured, his voice low and full of pride as he lined himself up with you, his cock teasing your soaked entrance. "Y’ ready for Daddy, bébé?"

"Yes," you whimpered, your voice breathless with need. "Please, Remy… I need you inside me."

That was all he needed to hear.

With one powerful thrust, he buried himself inside you, filling you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, the fullness of him stretching you in ways that made your head spin. You cried out, your fingers digging into his back as he began to move, each thrust slow and deliberate, designed to push you to your absolute limit.

"Ah, cher," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "Y’feel so fuckin’ good wrapped around me. Y’ were made for this, weren’t ya? Made to take Daddy’s cock."

You could barely form words, the pleasure too intense, too all-consuming as he picked up the pace, his hips slamming against yours with a force that had you gasping for breath.

"Remy," you moaned, your head falling back against the wall as your body arched into him, your legs tightening around his waist. "Oh god…"

"That’s it, bébé," he murmured, his voice low and rough as his hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he thrust into you harder, deeper. "Take it. Take all of me."

The sound of his voice, the way his accent dripped with authority, with ownership, only fueled the fire burning inside you. Your body was trembling, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. The pleasure was overwhelming, every thrust sending shockwaves through your body, bringing you closer to a release that you could feel building inside you like a storm.

"Please," you gasped, your voice trembling as you clung to him. "Please, I’m so close…"

"Not yet, cher," he growled, his grip on your hips tightening as he slowed his pace, teasing you, keeping you right on the edge but not letting you fall. "Y’ don’t come till I say. You gon’ wait for Daddy, you hear me?"

You whimpered, your body trembling with the need for release, but you nodded, knowing that you were his to control, to use as he saw fit.

"Good girl," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "I’m gon’ make y’ scream."

And then he was fucking you in earnest, his pace rough and relentless, each thrust harder and deeper than the last. The sensation was almost too much, the pleasure so intense that it bordered on pain, but it was exactly what you needed. You could feel every inch of him inside you, stretching you, filling you completely, and it was driving you wild.

"Remy," you cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders as your body began to shake, the pressure inside you building to a breaking point. "I can’t… I need to come…"

"Y’ gon’ come for me, cher?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous as he pounded into you with a force that had you seeing stars. "Y’ gon’ come on Daddy’s cock?"

"Yes," you gasped, your voice breaking as your body trembled violently, the pleasure too much to hold back any longer. "Please… I’m gonna come…"

"Then come for me, bébé," he growled, his voice thick with command. "Come for Daddy."

With a final, shattering thrust, your body exploded, the orgasm crashing over you with a force that left you breathless, your vision going white as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. You cried out, your body convulsing against him as he held you steady, his hips never stopping as he fucked you through the orgasm, prolonging your pleasure until you were a trembling, gasping mess.

"That’s it, cher," he murmured, his voice full of pride as he watched you fall apart in his arms. "You did so good for Daddy."

Even as the aftershocks of your orgasm rippled through you, Remy didn’t stop. He kept moving, his pace relentless, and you could feel the tension building again inside you, another orgasm already creeping up on you. You didn’t think it was possible to come again so soon, but with Remy, anything was possible.

"One more, bébé," he growled, his voice thick with lust as he thrust into you harder, deeper. "Give me one more."

Your body was trembling, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps as he drove you toward another release, his cock filling you completely with every powerful thrust. You could feel the pressure building inside you, the pleasure so intense that it left you gasping for air.

"Remy," you whimpered, your voice trembling as your body began to shake again. "I can’t…"

"Yes, y’ can, cher," he growled, his voice a low, dangerous purr. "Y’ gon’ give Daddy one more. Come for me again, bébé."

And just like that, the coil inside you snapped for a second time, the orgasm tearing through you with even more intensity than the first. You cried out, your body convulsing violently as the pleasure consumed you, leaving you breathless and shaking in his arms.

Remy let out a low, rumbling growl as he thrust into you one final time, his body tensing as he found his own release, filling you with a warmth that left you trembling. He held you close, his breath hot against your skin as he rode out the last waves of his orgasm, his grip on you tight and possessive.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the sound of your ragged breathing, the both of you still trembling from the intensity of what had just happened. Remy’s hands were gentle now, soothing as they ran over your skin, grounding you as you came down from the high.

"Y’ did so good, cher," he murmured, his voice soft and full of pride as he kissed your temple. "Daddy’s so proud of y’."

You smiled weakly, your body completely spent but utterly satisfied. You were his, completely, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

"Y’ mine now," he whispered, his Cajun drawl thick with satisfaction. "All mine." <><><><> Remy leaned against the dresser, arms crossed, watching with a lazy smirk as you slowly dressed. His jeans were already on, though still unbuttoned, hanging low on his hips. The room was dimly lit, but he could see the faint redness around your neck, the way your makeup had smudged slightly under your eyes. His gaze lingered for a moment on the torn fishnet stockings you were rolling up, defeated, before tossing them into the wastebasket.

"So, is this what you do?" you asked, a teasing edge to your voice as you glanced at him. "Find girls who amuse you and fuck them into submission?" You arched a brow, a playful smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

Remy’s smirk widened as he stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator closing in on its prey. "Only the ones I like," he replied smoothly, his Cajun accent thick and lazy. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he continued, "What about y’, cher? Is this how you normally spend your nights? Pour drinks on your ex and fuck like a rockstar?"

You shrugged, pulling on your shirt and noticing a button missing. With a sigh, you muttered, "Haven't fucked like a rockstar in a while." You tugged at the shirt, frowning at the missing button, and whispered to yourself, "Fuck it."

Without a word, Remy reached over to the floor, grabbed his own shirt, and handed it to you. "Here," he said, the smirk never leaving his face. "They're all used to seein’ me shirtless anyway."

You glanced up at him, a little surprised, but took the shirt, slipping it on. His scent lingered on the fabric, and it felt oddly comforting. As you adjusted the shirt, your eyes trailed over the scratches on his back, the marks you’d left in the heat of the moment. "Sorry about those," you said, your voice softening slightly.

Remy shrugged it off, his smile easy. "Don’t worry ‘bout it. Battle scars, cher. Comes with the territory."

There was a beat of silence, the air still thick with the remnants of your shared passion, but something more serious lingered beneath the surface. You glanced at him, chewing on your bottom lip before speaking again. "It’s funny… me and my ex—we were always trying to match each other’s crazy. But we never really did." You paused, pulling his shirt tighter around you, as if it could shield you from the vulnerability of the confession. "We tried, you know? But it was like… we were on different wavelengths. My crazy was too much for him, and his was never enough for me. We just didn’t fit."

Remy’s expression shifted, the playful smirk fading into something deeper, more thoughtful. He leaned back against the dresser, arms still crossed, but his eyes were locked on yours. "Mmm, I get that," he murmured, his voice low and reflective. "Ain’t easy findin’ someone who matches y’r crazy, cher. Most people, they don’t wanna go there. They don’t wanna dive deep into the wild parts of themselves—or y’. They wanna keep it safe, keep it easy."

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words. "Exactly. It’s like… they want the thrill, but not the risk. They want the passion without the storm that comes with it."

Remy let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as if he’d heard that story a hundred times before. "Yeah, well," he said, his tone dripping with a mix of amusement and something darker, "I ain’t met anyone yet who could handle my storm. Ain’t found no one who could match me, not all the way."

He paused, his eyes locking onto yours again, and for a moment, the lazy smirk returned to his lips, but there was something different behind it. Something more serious. More real. "That is… until tonight."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you could feel the air between you shift, thickening with something unspoken but undeniable. You didn’t say anything at first, the weight of his gaze holding you in place as the realization of what he was saying sank in.

"Until tonight?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper, not quite sure if you were asking a question or just echoing his words.

Remy’s smirk softened into a smile, his eyes never leaving yours as he closed the distance between you again. His hand found your waist, fingers trailing lightly over your skin as he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "Yeah, cher," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "Tonight, I think I found someone who can keep up."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your body reacting to the quiet intensity in his voice. There was a challenge hidden in his tone, a promise that this wasn’t over—not by a long shot. You could feel the fire between you two still smoldering, waiting for the next spark to set it ablaze again.

You turned to face him fully, your body brushing against his as you tilted your head up to meet his gaze. "You sure about that, Remy?" you asked, your voice soft but steady. "You think I can match your crazy?"

Remy’s eyes darkened, his grip on your waist tightening just slightly as he leaned in even closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “I think you might just be the one to burn me alive."

His words hung in the air between you, heavy with a challenge, with desire, with something neither of you could quite name but both of you could feel. You didn’t need to say anything more—there was no need for words now. The look in his eyes, the way his body pressed against yours, told you everything you needed to know.

Whatever this was between you, it wasn’t over. Not even close.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you’d met someone who was ready to dive into the storm with you, no matter how wild it got. Remy shrugged casually, his eyes still glinting with that lazy, mischievous smile as he leaned back against the dresser. "I’m in town for a few more nights," he said, his voice easy, like he hadn’t just turned your world upside down. "Then I gotta head off to Europe for a tour."

Your brow furrowed, unsure where he was going with this. Before you could ask, he glanced at you through half-lidded eyes, a hint of something more serious behind the playful exterior. "Y’ should come with me."

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head as if you hadn’t heard him right. "Wait, what?" you asked, incredulous. "Are you serious?"

Remy chuckled, that low, rich sound that seemed to rumble from somewhere deep within him. "Yeah, cher, I’m serious. I like y’. A lot." He stepped closer, his gaze never leaving yours as he continued, "And I think it’s somethin’ I wanna explore."

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, you were frozen, unsure how to respond. Your heart skipped a beat, and a million thoughts raced through your mind all at once. Was he really asking you to come with him? To leave everything behind for a whirlwind adventure across Europe? The idea was insane—completely reckless. You barely knew him beyond the fire and intensity of the past few hours. This was Remy LeBeau, the enigmatic Cajun heartthrob who probably had more women than he could count falling at his feet. And yet, there was something in his voice, in the way he was looking at you now, that made you wonder if maybe, just maybe, he meant it.

Still, you couldn’t help but feel a little guarded. You’d heard stories like this before. Men like Remy didn’t just meet girls at bars and whisk them off on romantic tours across Europe. Was this just another game to him? Another notch on his belt?

As if sensing your hesitation, Remy crossed the room to the dresser, pulling out a pen and a small scrap of paper. He scribbled something quickly before handing both over to you. "Here," he said, his voice softening just slightly. "Give me y’r number, cher. Ain’t no pressure, but I’d like to see y’ again. Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow. Maybe you’ll think about comin’ along after all."

You took the pen, still processing his offer, your fingers brushing against his as you grabbed the paper. A light, teasing smile tugged at your lips as you met his gaze. "What, you got one of these little scraps of paper for every woman at every port?" you quipped, the words coming out more as a joke than an accusation, though you couldn’t help the tiny hint of curiosity behind it.

For the briefest moment, Remy froze. His usual easy smile faltered, and something unreadable flickered in his eyes. You watched as the playful mask he usually wore slipped ever so slightly, revealing something more vulnerable beneath it. Then, after a beat, he shook his head slowly, his expression serious now.

"Nah, cher," he said quietly, his voice losing some of its casual tone. "I ain’t got a woman in every port. I ain’t like that." He paused, his gaze holding yours, searching your face as if trying to make sure you understood. "Yeah, I fuck ‘em. Sure. But I don’t let it get further than that. I don’t… ask for numbers. I don’t ask them to come with me. Never done that before. Y’re different."

You felt your breath catch in your throat as he spoke, and for the first time since you’d met him, you saw a glimpse of something real—something raw in his eyes. He wasn’t playing a part right now. He wasn’t the charming, reckless, devil-may-care musician. He was just Remy, standing there in front of you, telling you the truth.

Your heart thudded in your chest, and you found yourself studying him carefully, searching for any hint of deception, any sign that this was just another well-rehearsed line. But there wasn’t. His eyes were steady, his expression open in a way you hadn’t seen before. He wasn’t lying. You could tell.

For a few long seconds, you just stood there, staring at him, the pen still in your hand, the paper resting against your palm. The silence stretched between you, thick with the weight of everything unsaid.

"I don’t know," you finally whispered, your voice hesitant. "I don’t usually do this either…" You trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence. What were you even saying? That you didn’t hook up with guys like him? That you didn’t let yourself get swept up in the moment? Because here you were, standing in his shirt, your legs still shaking from everything that had just happened, and your mind was spinning with the possibility of something more.

Remy took another step toward you, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was soft, careful. "Y’ don’t have to decide right now, cher," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "Take your time. But know this… I wasn’t playin’ tonight. I meant every word. Y’ got me thinkin’ ‘bout things I ain’t never thought ‘bout before."

Your breath hitched in your throat at the sincerity in his voice. This was more than just a fling to him, more than just a momentary distraction. He was offering you something real, something uncertain and wild, but real all the same.

You glanced down at the pen in your hand, then back up at him. His eyes were still on you, watching carefully, waiting. Slowly, you uncapped the pen and scribbled your number down on the scrap of paper he’d handed you. "Okay," you said, your voice barely above a whisper as you handed it back to him. "Here’s my number." You took a deep breath, glancing at Remy as you pulled his shirt tighter around you, the scent of him still lingering on the fabric. It was tempting—God, it was tempting—but you knew better. You shook your head softly, feeling the weight of reality settle on your shoulders. "But I can’t do Europe, Remy," you said, your voice steady but quiet. "I can’t just up and travel with you. I have a life outside of all this." You laughed, trying to lighten the heaviness you felt inside. "Knowing my luck, I’d probably end up on TMZ or something."

Remy’s lips curled into a small smile, but there was a softness in his eyes now, something understanding. He reached out, brushing his fingers lightly over your arm. "Yeah, I get it, cher," he said, his voice low and sincere. "I know the lifestyle—paparazzi, the chaos—it ain’t for everyone." He paused, watching you carefully. "But that’s kinda why I think it’d work with y’."

You blinked, surprised by his response. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged, his expression thoughtful as he ran a hand through his messy hair. "Y’ ain’t lookin’ for fame or attention. Y’ just… get me. Most people wanna be around me for the wrong reasons. But you? You’re different. That’s why I’m askin’." He stepped a little closer, his fingers lingering at your waist. "But if you’re not lookin' for all that, we can keep it casual. Just see where it goes, you know? No pressure."

You swallowed hard, feeling the pull of him, the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the room. It was insane—completely reckless—but there was something about him that made you want to take that risk. Still, you nodded, keeping yourself grounded. "Yeah… casual," you agreed, offering him a small smile. "We’ll see where it goes."

Remy’s smile widened, that familiar mischievous glint returning to his eyes. "Good," he murmured, leaning down to brush a soft kiss against your forehead. "I’ll call you, cher. Ain’t no rush."

With that, he took a step back, his hands dropping from your waist as he led you out of the room and toward the exit. The night air was cooler than you expected, and the city was still buzzing with life outside the venue. Remy walked you to the street, his hand briefly resting on the small of your back before he gave you one last lingering glance. "Take care, bébé," he said softly, before turning and disappearing back inside.

You stood there for a moment, trying to process everything that had just happened. Your heart was still racing, your mind spinning with the weight of his words and the possibilities they held. But before you could get too lost in thought, Nat appeared, practically jogging up to meet you.

Nat’s eyes widened the moment she saw you wearing Remy’s shirt, and a sly grin spread across her face. "Oh my God, what the hell happened?" she asked, not even bothering to hide her amusement.

You shrugged, trying to play it cool, but the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you. "It’s… it’s a long story," you muttered, tugging at the hem of the oversized shirt self-consciously.

Nat raised an eyebrow, her grin only widening as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Uh-huh. And that shirt? Did you steal it right off his back or…?"

You rolled your eyes, laughing despite yourself. "He gave it to me, okay? My shirt was missing a button." You paused, glancing away for a moment before deciding to tell her the rest. "Remy asked for my number."

Nat’s eyes practically bugged out of her head. "Wait, what? He asked for your number?"

"Yeah," you said slowly, biting your lip. "And… he asked me to go with him on tour. In Europe."

Nat stared at you in disbelief, her mouth hanging open for a few seconds before she finally found her voice. "Are you fucking kidding me? Remy LeBeau asked you to go on tour with him in Europe?" She shook her head, laughing in astonishment. "What the hell are our lives right now?"

You couldn’t help but laugh too, the absurdity of the situation finally sinking in. Just last night, you were at a bar with your best friend, trying to forget about your ex and blow off some steam. Now, you were standing outside a venue, wearing a rockstar’s shirt, having just turned down an invitation to travel across Europe with him. It was surreal.

"I know, right?" you said, shaking your head as the two of you started walking toward the subway. "I don’t even know what to think anymore."

And with that, you descended into the subway, your mind still swirling with thoughts of Remy, of Europe, of everything that might come next.

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its-avalon-08 · 2 months ago

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Hai its-avalon-08,

I had an idea for a Logan Sergeant fic.

Can you do a Logan Sergeant x fem reader story; where Logan is invited to play a videogame with some of the rest of the grit. But he just started playing the game, and the rest of the group has played the game for some time and have really high level characters. So Logan feels a bit useless. So in the summer break he gets to know reader, maybe she see him struggling with is in a cafe or something. Not knowing she is really good at that game. And she helps him to level him up. And after the summer break the group play again and find out about Logans improvement. So Logan invites reader and they can believe how Logan gets help from a famous gamer.

If you can make it all platonic or Logan and reader getting a relationship is up to you.

And for the group members of the other drivers is up to you too.

level up (ls2)

✦ pairing - logan sargeant x female!reader

✦ genre - self doubt, fluff, logan being cute

The sun shone bright over the summer streets, bathing everything in a warm golden hue as Logan Sargeant sat hunched in a small corner of a cozy café. His eyes were glued to his phone, fingers tapping furiously at the screen. He wasn’t scrolling through social media or checking emails — no, Logan was fighting a battle. A virtual one. And one he was miserably losing.

A frustrated sigh escaped his lips, and he leaned back in his chair, letting his phone fall on the table in defeat. He didn’t know why he had agreed to play Legends Unleashed, the new game that had taken the Formula 1 grid by storm. It was a role-playing game where the drivers were tasked with taking on mythical quests, battling monsters, and leveling up their characters. The only problem was, Logan had just started playing. The rest of the grid, seasoned veterans by now, had characters with insane stats, fancy armor, and rare weapons. Meanwhile, Logan’s character — a low-level knight with a rusty sword — was stuck losing to even the weakest enemies.

He could still hear the teasing from the last game night echoing in his head.

“Logan, mate, that was rough,” Charles Leclerc had laughed, his voice crackling through the headset.

“Did you even hit the boss once?” Lando Norris had chimed in.

It wasn’t malicious. Logan knew that. It was all in good fun, but it stung nonetheless. He wasn’t used to feeling so out of his depth — not on the track and certainly not in a video game. But this game had turned out to be a much bigger challenge than expected. And now, with the summer break in full swing, Logan found himself with no races to distract him from his embarrassing performance.

As he took a sip of his coffee, he glanced around the café, hoping to clear his mind. His gaze flickered over the familiar faces of regulars and tourists enjoying their day, but it eventually settled on a girl sitting a few tables away. She had her laptop open and was intently focused, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she clicked and typed with ease. Something about her caught his attention — maybe it was the determination in her expression or the way she seemed completely engrossed in whatever she was doing.

Logan frowned, noticing the game she had minimized on her screen before returning to her work. His eyes widened slightly. Was that… Legends Unleashed?

He shook his head. It was probably just a coincidence. Tons of people were playing that game now. It didn’t mean she was some kind of expert. But then again, she didn’t have the look of someone who was just casually playing. Her focus was too intense, her movements too precise. Could she be good at it?

Before he could stop himself, Logan’s curiosity got the better of him. He stood up, gathering his things, and made his way over to her table. Clearing his throat, he caught her attention.

“Hey, sorry to bother you,” he began, a little unsure. “I couldn’t help but notice… are you playing Legends Unleashed?”

Y/N looked up from her laptop, a small smile playing on her lips. “Yeah, I am. You play?”

Logan scratched the back of his neck, feeling sheepish. “Uh, I’ve tried. Let’s just say I’m not exactly good at it.”

Her eyebrows raised slightly. “Not good? It’s a tricky game, I get that. How long have you been playing?”

“A couple of weeks,” Logan admitted with a rueful smile. “But it’s hard to keep up. My friends are way ahead of me.”

Y/N tilted her head, intrigued. “Well, it sounds like you’ve been thrown into the deep end. But don’t worry. With some help, you can get there.”

Logan chuckled. “I think I need a lot more than some help. The last time I played, I was more of a liability than anything else.”

Y/N leaned back in her chair, tapping her fingers thoughtfully. “Tell you what — if you’re serious about getting better, I can help you. I’ve been playing for a while.”

Logan’s eyes lit up, his surprise evident. “Really? You’d help me?”

She nodded. “Sure. Everyone starts somewhere, and it’s more fun when you can hold your own. Plus, I kind of enjoy teaching people.”

Logan couldn’t believe his luck. Maybe this summer break wouldn’t be so bad after all.

As Y/N closed her laptop and got up, offering him a knowing smile, Logan felt a strange sense of relief. Little did he know, this café encounter would be the start of his comeback — and that Y/N was far more than just a casual gamer.

But for now, all Logan could focus on was the unexpected offer of help, completely unaware of the storm he and Y/N would stir up when the rest of the grid found out.

The summer break had just begun, and Logan Sargeant was about to level up — in more ways than one.

time skip

The sun had long set, casting the city in a soft, peaceful glow. Logan lay sprawled out on his couch, his laptop balanced on his knees and his headset firmly in place. The flickering lights from his game illuminated the dark room as the familiar sounds of Legends Unleashed filled the air.

“Okay, Logan, you need to time the dodge right after the first attack,” Y/N’s voice instructed through the headset, her tone both patient and teasing. “You’re still getting hit because you’re hesitating.”

Logan rolled his eyes, his character taking yet another hit. “I swear I’m dodging, Y/N! This boss is just ridiculous.”

On the other end of the call, Y/N’s laughter rang out, soft and infectious. “You’re dodging too late. Watch the movement of the arm, not the weapon.”

They’d been doing this for weeks now—spending hours gaming together, their late-night calls becoming routine. What started as simple game tutorials had turned into something much more. There were moments when they’d be in the middle of a game, only for Logan to get distracted by her voice or the way she’d make light of his constant failures. He often found himself zoning out, just watching her on the tiny screen where they video chatted while playing.

Like right now.

Y/N’s voice became background noise as Logan’s eyes drifted to her face, illuminated by the glow of her laptop screen. She was sitting in what appeared to be her room, comfortably propped up against pillows, her hair loosely tied back. He couldn’t help but smile as he watched her explain the intricacies of the boss battle. She was so animated, so passionate. The way her eyes lit up when she spoke about strategies and the small laugh she had whenever he missed something obvious was quickly becoming one of his favorite things.

“Logan? Logan!” Y/N’s voice broke through his daze, and Logan blinked, snapping back to the game.

“Huh? Yeah, sorry,” he muttered, feeling his face heat up slightly as he realized he had completely zoned out.

Y/N chuckled, clearly amused. “Were you even listening to me?”

“Uh, yeah… definitely,” Logan lied, hoping she didn’t notice. But the knowing smirk on her face told him otherwise.

“You were staring at the screen again, weren’t you?” she teased, leaning closer to her camera. “I swear, you zone out so much I’m starting to think you enjoy losing.”

Logan laughed, scratching the back of his neck. “Maybe I’m just strategizing, ever think of that?”

“Strategizing by staring at my face? Interesting approach,” she quipped, her smile widening.

Logan’s heart skipped a beat at her playful tone. They’d developed this rhythm — this back-and-forth banter that felt effortless. It was something he hadn’t realized he’d been missing until now. It was like he’d found a new kind of comfort, one that wasn’t just about learning the game. Y/N had quickly become someone he looked forward to spending time with. Their conversations had gone from strictly game-related to late-night talks about life, racing, and random things that made them laugh.

"Okay, okay, maybe I was zoning out," Logan admitted with a grin. "But you make it hard to concentrate sometimes. You get so into it."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Oh? Is that a compliment or an excuse for why you're still losing to a level 30 boss?"

Logan chuckled, his cheeks reddening a bit. "Probably both."

There was a moment of silence between them as they both focused on the game again. But Logan couldn't shake the growing realization that his feelings toward Y/N were changing. The more time they spent together, the more he found himself drawn to her in ways that surprised him. She was funny, smart, and effortlessly cool in a way that made him feel completely at ease.

He didn’t just look forward to the gaming anymore. He looked forward to her — to the way they’d laugh until the early hours of the morning, or how she’d tell him stories about random things that happened during her day, or how she'd make even the most mundane game tasks feel like an adventure.

"Alright, we’ve been at this for a while," Y/N finally said, breaking the comfortable silence. "I think you’ve earned a break from getting your butt kicked."

Logan sighed in mock relief. "Thank God. I was starting to think I’d never get past this boss."

"You will," Y/N assured him with a soft smile. "You’re getting better, you know. Much better."

Logan’s eyes flickered to her again. Her tone was so genuine, and the way she smiled made something in his chest tighten. He knew she meant it, and for some reason, her words felt like more than just praise for his in-game performance.

"Thanks," Logan said quietly, his gaze lingering on her. "You’ve been a great teacher."

Y/N shrugged, brushing off the compliment like it was nothing, but there was a hint of pride in her expression. "Well, you’re a pretty good student."

They both fell silent again, but this time it wasn’t awkward. It was the kind of silence that felt comfortable, almost intimate, as if they’d said everything they needed to without words.

"Same time tomorrow?" Y/N asked, breaking the moment, her tone casual.

Logan smiled, his heart racing a little at the thought of another night like this. "Yeah. Same time tomorrow."

As they both logged off for the night, Logan lay back on his couch, staring at the ceiling. He should’ve been focused on his upcoming race or how much he still needed to improve in the game. But all he could think about was Y/N — and the way she made everything feel a little bit better, a little more exciting.

And as much as he loved the game, it was those late-night calls, those small moments of goofing around with her, that had him looking forward to tomorrow the most.

Logan was leveling up, sure. But it wasn’t just in the game anymore.

time skip

The sun was setting, casting a warm orange glow over the horizon as Logan anxiously glanced at his phone. The night had finally arrived — a game night with the rest of the grid. But this time, there was something different. This time, he had a secret weapon.

"Everything okay?" Y/N’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. She stood beside him in his living room, looking far too calm for what Logan was feeling.

"Yeah, yeah," Logan mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I guess I’m just… nervous."

Y/N tilted her head, amused. "Nervous about what? You’ve been doing great lately."

"Not about the game," Logan clarified, shaking his head. "It’s just… I invited the rest of the grid over, and I didn’t tell them about you. You know, that you’ve been helping me." He paused, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I kinda want to surprise them."

Y/N chuckled. "You mean, you want to wipe the floor with them."

Logan grinned. "Maybe."

There was a knock at the door, and Logan’s nerves kicked into high gear. "They’re here."

He opened the door to find Charles Leclerc, Lando Norris, and George Russell standing outside, each carrying a different bag of snacks and drinks.

"Look who decided to finally host!" Lando announced, patting Logan on the back as they walked inside. "What’s the occasion? Felt bad for getting wrecked last time?"

Logan rolled his eyes, shutting the door behind them. "Something like that."

The guys walked into the living room, exchanging pleasantries with Y/N, not knowing just how involved she was in what was about to go down.

"So, Logan," Charles began, already sinking into the couch. "You ready to lose again, or did you actually practice this time?"

Logan shot him a confident look. "You’ll see."

"Well, I’m excited to see this ‘progress’ you keep talking about," George teased. "Last time, I thought I was watching a training video on how not to play."

"Ha ha, very funny," Logan replied, rolling his eyes. "Just wait."

As they all gathered around, setting up the gaming consoles, Logan couldn’t help but notice how cool Y/N was acting. If she was nervous, she didn’t show it. In fact, she seemed to be enjoying the pre-game banter, sitting cross-legged on the couch and watching the guys with an amused smirk.

"Alright, let’s do this," Lando said, rubbing his hands together. "Logan, you’re gonna need a miracle to get through this one."

Logan exchanged a look with Y/N, who gave him a subtle wink before they all logged into Legends Unleashed.

The game kicked off, and almost immediately, the rest of the grid noticed something was different. Logan wasn’t the weak link anymore. In fact, he was holding his own — dodging attacks, landing perfect hits, and strategizing like a seasoned pro.

"Wait a minute," George said, his voice full of disbelief. "How the hell are you doing that, Logan?"

"Yeah," Charles added, his tone equally shocked. "Since when do you know how to time your moves like that?"

Logan grinned, leaning back in his chair. "Oh, you know… just practiced a bit."

"Practiced a bit?" Lando exclaimed, eyes wide as Logan’s character took out a particularly tough boss in record time. "Dude, did you hire a coach or something?"

Logan glanced at Y/N, who was quietly sitting to the side, clearly enjoying the confusion. He could’ve revealed her identity right then and there, but where was the fun in that?

As the game continued, Logan kept surprising everyone, his movements smoother, his decisions sharper. The guys were losing it.

"Okay, this is insane," George said, throwing his hands up. "You’ve leveled up like, a hundred times since the last game night!"

"I’m telling you, Logan’s been holding out on us," Charles muttered, leaning forward in concentration. "This isn’t the same guy we played with a month ago."

Just as the final round was about to start, Logan turned to Y/N. "Hey, you want to take over for a bit?"

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a small smile on her lips. "Are you sure? I don’t want to embarrass anyone."

"Please," Logan said, smirking. "I think they deserve it."

She shrugged and took the controller, her hands moving with the kind of ease that could only come from experience. Within seconds, she was effortlessly leading the charge, her character cutting through enemies with precision.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Lando nearly shouted, sitting up straight. "Who’s playing now?"

Y/N grinned but stayed focused on the screen. "That’d be me."

The room went dead silent as the rest of the grid watched in stunned disbelief. Y/N’s gameplay was flawless, and it wasn’t long before they started putting the pieces together.

"Wait a second," Charles said slowly, his eyes narrowing. "You’re… you’re not Y/N from GameChix are you?"

Logan looked at Y/N in confusion. "GameChix? What’s that?"

Y/N let out a soft laugh, pausing the game to face him. "It’s… well, it’s a gaming channel I’m part of. A pretty popular one, actually."

"Pretty popular?" George repeated, looking like he’d seen a ghost. "You’re literally one of the top-ranked Legends Unleashed players in the world!"

Logan blinked, completely dumbfounded. "Wait. You’re famous?"

Y/N smiled sheepishly. "I guess you could say that."

Lando’s jaw dropped. "Mate, how did you not know? Y/N’s a legend in the gaming world! She’s like… a god at this game."

Logan felt his cheeks flush as the rest of the grid erupted into fanboying.

"I can’t believe we’re sitting here with the Y/N!" Charles gushed. "I’ve watched your streams for years!"

"This is unreal," George added. "I’ve been trying to beat your dungeon records for months!"

Logan could only watch as his friends lost their minds over Y/N, who took it all in stride, looking a little embarrassed but also clearly used to this kind of attention.

"You’ve been playing with a pro this whole time?" Lando asked Logan, incredulously. "Dude, no wonder you’ve gotten so good."

"Uh, yeah," Logan replied, still processing the fact that Y/N was way more famous than he’d realized. "But honestly, I didn’t even know."

"Well, now you do," Y/N teased, nudging him lightly. "Guess I’m more than just your tutor."

The room buzzed with excitement as the guys peppered Y/N with questions, asking about her strategies, her favorite in-game moments, and how she got into professional gaming. Logan watched her, half in awe, half amused at how cool she remained, even with the grid completely fanboying over her.

As the night wore on, the excitement eventually died down, and the others headed out, still in disbelief over the surprise twist of the evening.

Logan walked Y/N to the door, still shaking his head at everything that had happened. "I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were a famous gamer this whole time."

Y/N laughed softly, her eyes sparkling as she looked at him. "Well, I figured it didn’t matter. You weren’t exactly hiring me for my fame."

Logan chuckled, his heart racing a little as he met her gaze. "No, I guess not. But… thanks. For everything. You’ve made this whole thing way more fun than I expected."

Y/N smiled, and for a moment, the playful teasing between them faded. The atmosphere shifted, a quiet tension filling the space between them. Logan wasn’t sure when it had happened, but somewhere between all the late-night gaming sessions and their growing friendship, he’d started feeling something more. Something that made his pulse quicken whenever she was near.

Before he could think too much about it, Logan leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a soft, hesitant kiss. Y/N responded immediately, her hand gently resting on his arm as she kissed him back, the moment both tender and electrifying.

When they pulled away, both of them were smiling, breathless and a little stunned by what had just happened.

"Well," Y/N said softly, her voice teasing again, "that’s one way to end game night."

Logan grinned, his heart still pounding in his chest. "Best game night ever."

#logan sargent x fem!reader #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #logan sargeant x you #logan sargeant x fem!reader #logan sargent fluff #logan sargent x reader #logan sargeant fanfic #logan sargeant x reader #f1 fanfic

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copperbadge · 4 months ago

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Hi Sam! I wanted to ask if you feel lately like you've been getting anything positive out of your therapy, because a lot of your initial thoughts about it kind of mirror mine. I'm very logical (except when I'm upset at myself) and very skeptical, so I feel like a therapist either isn't going to tell me anything new, or that I'm going to just disregard it because I can't trick myself into believing things that I just plain don't believe.

But I'm also starting to come to a realization, two years after my ADHD diagnosis and letting go (without therapy!) of most of the executive dysfunction-fueled self worth issues I was having, that I'm kind of Not Okay in other ways. I'm safe —going to work every day and doing my job so I won't lose my livelihood and have never had a self harm urge in my life— But I'm not really okay. I'm having major self esteem issues related to my personality separate from the executive dysfunction that are putting me in a bad place. I don't want to take antidepressants for reasons I won't go into but that means my other option is therapy and... I don't know if I'm a person that therapy will actually work on. I found a lot of validation in some of your perspectives, about affirmations being bullshit and "mindfulness" exercises feeling impossible and useless, about not having an inner monologue and how that might be causing issues with traditional methods. So I was just wondering, do you feel like therapy is working now that you've been in it longer?

I've wasted a lot of money on "elective" (and ultimately useless, back to square one) medical nonsense this year and I'm not eager to waste more, but I've also met my insurance deductible so it's the best time to try it if I'm going to.

I mean, it depends on the modality a little but I don't think trying basic talk therapy can hurt, as long as you find a decent therapist. And it's better to try it now when you're feeling Mostly Okay than waiting until you are Really Not Okay. But this entire paragraph comes with a lot of context so....

A lot of what I talked about in terms of struggling with mindfulness, etc. was less related to the therapy I am still in than it was to the DBT class I took at Therapist's suggestion. We were both aware that she was basically throwing stuff at the wall to see what stuck, and while it was an interesting class I don't think for me it was helpful. As you mention, I struggled with affirmations and visualization since neurologically I'm not really set up for those; I don't think they're objectively bullshit but I do think there's an assumption within the mental health industry that they will have function for everyone and that's simply untrue, and the expectation that it will is very damaging. I also struggled with the physical-intervention aspects (called TIPP usually) which didn't work at all for me and felt frankly like doctor-approved self harm. DBT can get very culty, which set off a ton of red flags for me -- possibly false flags, but they still waved real big.

And that's because I also have a lot of trust issues surrounding therapy. To the point where, the minute one of the people running the DBT class made actually quite gentle fun of me for asking a question he couldn't answer, I checked out on anything he said. We were learning about a DBT concept called Wise Mind and I asked, "If wise mind is an identifiable mental state, how do we know if we're in it?" and when he couldn't quite answer beyond "It's different for everyone" I said, "But if we know it's real there must be some kind of common denominator, a measurable data point," and he said "Well, Sam, you're not going to levitate" and the rest of the class laughed. Sorry bud, this is almost certainly an over-reaction, but I'm me and you lost me when you came at me instead of just admitting you didn't know. (Also it turns out I just live in Wise Mind like 80% of the time which is one reason I couldn't tell.)

But basic talk therapy outside of DBT is just...you talk at someone about your problems and come up with ways to try and solve them, which is a lot more straightforward and way less frustrating. You have to be an active participant, you have to both have a goal and be willing to discuss reaching it, but that goal can be as simple as just "figure out what my mental health goals should be" at first. You don't have to learn like, vocabulary for it.

The thing is, while I have seen some improvement in regulation issues, I also struggle with basic talk therapy. Most people, and this blew my mind, see measurable improvement in nine to eighteen therapy sessions. A lot of people don't go long-term, they just are having a moment and get help getting through the moment and then can disengage, with their therapist's approval.

I was in therapy consistently from the age of nine to eighteen and only stopped because I reached legal majority and physically refused to go.

Not one minute of those nine years did I want to be there. And, because none of the three therapists I saw across those years actually explained to me why I was there or how therapy worked, for me it felt like "Your punishment for having feelings is to speedrun every feeling you had this week in an hour, to a stranger." There was also what my current therapist believes to be some extremely unethical behavior going on, which didn't help.

So it has taken actually a lot of time to get to a place where I would even allow her to understand what help I need. I've been in therapy for about a year (generally weekly but there have been some gaps) and it has only recently gotten deeper than very basic interpersonal problem-solving.

Like, two weeks ago I told her, "I had a thought this week that I couldn't tell you about something I was doing because then you'd have material on me" (meaning blackmail material) "and that's a fucked-up thing to think." And once I'd actually identified it as fucked up I had zero issue telling her about it, wasn't even nervous as I did so. Who's she going to tell? She's literally legally constrained from telling.

I think well over half of what she does is either validate that whatever emotion I'm having is normal, affirm my reactions so I don't keep believing I behaved weirdly, or praise something I've done that was a positive act. Does this work? Not always, because I'm unfortunately very aware that it's part of her job to do those things. But yeah, sometimes. Even if you don't fully believe it, "Hey that was a really smart move" is nice to hear. Sometimes she helps me come up with a plan for stressful future events or (rarely) behavior modification, and sometimes she either provides me with research or points me towards research I can do on my own. We don't do meditation or affirmations or stuff like that.

Like, last week I brought up the fact that I hadn't really ever thought about how if I have a disability that causes emotional dysregulation and I got it from my parents, they also likely had undiagnosed emotional dysregulation when raising me. So she said I should look into research on children with emotionally dysregulated parents. I was pretty annoyed by what I found (the ONE TIME adults are the focus instead of the kids is the ONE TIME I needed to learn about the kids, really?) but it led to something that was both informative and upsetting, so we discussed that. And when I was stumped about how to move forward with the information, she suggested that my general coping mechanism of writing about it was probably a good plan.

(At which point I just silently advanced my powerpoint presentation to the next slide, where I had a series of quotes from the Shivadh novels where Michaelis, acting as a parent, repeatedly does the exact opposite of the upsetting thing, because I realized even before the meeting that it's an ongoing theme in my work whenever I deal with people being parents. It's a good thing she has a sense of humor and also that I do.)

So yeah. Going into therapy you have to be ready to reject a therapist if you don't like them or if they get weird and pushy, you have to be ready to be a self-advocate, but you are the client; it shouldn't be super difficult to find someone who can at least walk you through what you want from it and agree not to do the stuff you don't want, and if you want to stop going you just...stop going.

Good luck, in any case! I hope you get what you need, whether or not that ends up being therapy.

#not yet fired from therapy #sitting in the back of DBT class

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refiwrites · 2 years ago

Text

Ceasefire

Pairing: Ao'nung x Sully! Fem! Reader

Requested?: Yes.

Summary: Your father had asked for Uturu from the Awa'atlu village, but it was far from feeling like a sanctuary when a certain Metkayina boy always seemed to be getting on your nerves, and you could tell he was enjoying it.

Word count: 3.6k

Warning/s: ATWOW spoilers, enemies to lovers? ao'nung being a bully, that one fight scene lmao, mentions of injury and wounds, ronal being scary

Note: shoutout to ao'nung for being the first avatar character i wrote for that surpassed two thousand words 🥴 i am not down bad. Anyways likes, reblogs, and feedbacks are most welcome and appreciated!

GIF is mine!

You stood along with your brothers as your father faced Tonowari and Ronal, the Olo’eyktan and the Tsahìk of the Awa’atlu village. All of you simultaneously signed your greetings.

“Why have you come to us, Jake Sully?” Tonowari asked, holding his staff firm.

“We seek Uturu.” Jake said.

“Uturu?” Ronal repeated, seemingly appalled. You and your siblings glanced at each other, unsure of what’s to come.

“A sanctuary, for my family.” He explained.

Tonowari almost fought back a chuckle, extending his arm out, as if to point towards you. “We are reef people. You are forest people; your skills will mean nothing here.”

You shifted in your place as Ronal walked along you, inspecting. “Well, we can learn your ways, alright?” Jake said, looking at his family. “Yes.” Your mother, Neytiri confirmed.

Ronal then turned to face Tuk, lifting her arm. “Their arms are too thin.” She comments, earning a small “Mom…” from Tuk herself.

“Their tails… are weak, you will be slow in the water.”

You flinched as you felt Ronal grab your tail, you frowned, moving her hand away from your tail. “Watch it..” You say under your breath, looking up, you made eye contact with that one boy earlier, who was making fun of Neteyam and Lo’ak’s tails.

He was smiling at you funny, as if mocking you. He shakes his head at you, chuckling before turning his head to whisper something to his friend, which sent them both laughing.

You furrowed your brows at him, rolling your eyes. You didn’t like him already.

After what felt like forever, Tonowari and Ronal finally agreed to let your family stay.

“Toruk Makto and his family will stay with us.” Tonowari announced amongst his clan, a breath you didn’t know you had been holding was exhaled.

“Treat them as our brothers and sisters— They do not know the sea; so, they will be like babies, taking their first breath.”

You kept your eyes fixated on the ground.

“Teach them our ways so they do not suffer the shame of being useless.” Tonowari finished, and you can just about feel his gaze on all of you.

“Okay, what do we say?” Jake said, looking at all of you.

“Thank you.” Tuk was the first one, followed by you and Neteyam, then Lo’ak and Kiri.

“My son, Ao’nung and my daughter, Tsireya will show your children what to do.”

Your eyes looked up to see the same boy from earlier, making your eyes go wide. He was the chief’s son? That explains the attitude. You both made eye contact again before he steps up to appeal to his father.

“Father why would yo—” You heard him speak before he was cut off by his own.

“It is decided.”

“Come! I will show you our village.” His sister, Tsireya approached with a huge smile on her face, making your heart feel a little at ease. You were thankful somehow that his sister was kind.

After a few days of settling in, the lessons began.

You weren’t thrilled to see the chief’s son, to say the least, and you were pretty sure the feeling was mutual.

The first was when they (mostly Tsireya) encouraged you to swim together.

You stood as you watched the three dived into the ocean so easily.

“Come on, come on!” Neteyam urged you and Lo’ak, making a run for it before jumping off the edge. The two of you followed, yelling out before hitting the water.

Then you were swallowed by the ocean, you opened your eyes to see all kinds of fishes and reefs around you. You swam a bit further, watching the creatures around you swim so gracefully.

Then you saw Lo’ak pointing towards where Tsireya was and you and Neteyam followed, moving your arms to swim towards them.

You followed, but then the need to breathe got stronger as you faced your siblings. You pointed up and they were quick to understand.

Reaching the surface, you gasped for air, so did your brothers. You noticed the others didn’t follow, so you submerged your face back in the ocean to see Tsireya doing something with her hands which sent you confused. But Tsireya just motioned her hands in a ‘come here’ motion.

Taking another breath, the three of you dove back down again. You held onto a reef to stable yourself and you felt a pair of eyes looking at you. You shook it off as Neteyam signaled to go up again with the others.

Following, you reached the surface again.

“Are you alright?” Tsireya asked.

“You’re too fast! Wait for us.” Tuk complained. Tsireya offered her an apologetic smile. “Just breathe.” She spoke.

You did, but it was cut off when the chief’s son, Ao’nung suddenly popped up beside you. You moved away as you looked at him.

“You’re not good divers.” He said looking at you, then Neteyam and Lo’ak.

“Maybe good at swimming through trees but-“ He chuckled but Tsireya’s hand smacked him on the head, which sent you chuckling. He looked at you with a scowl. You just sent him a teasing smile.

“Come on, bro.” Lo’ak said.

“We don’t speak this… finger talk you guys.” Neteyam said, motioning with his fingers.

“Yeah, we don’t understand what you’re saying.” You said to them.

“I will teach you.” Replied Tsireya.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Days passed by and you were learning bit by bit.

Now you were standing in the ocean, watching as Ao’nung called for something. Then you saw them. They were almost as big as you, swimming around you gracefully.

Then Ao’nung faced you, with his hand raised. “If you want to live here, you have to ride… Shouldn’t be too hard for you.” Ao’nung said, although the last bit he looked at you.

You rolled your eyes.

Then it was time to ride the Ilus.

You smiled as you pet its head, it squawked happily at you, nudging its face onto your arm. “Look at you, you’re beautiful.” You speak.

“Are you planning to stand here and rave all day like a baby?” Ao’nung teased, still giving you that same smile from before. You glared at him, turning your face away from him as you made tsaheylu with the Ilu.

You took a deep breath before hopping on, you didn’t miss the way Ao’nung’s hand followed, almost to support you if you fall back into the ocean.

“Get your hand off me.” You hissed at him once you successfully rode your Ilu.

He raises both his arms in surrender, smirking at you, shaking his head.

“Alright, I was just trying to help—”

“Calling the Ilu was enough.” You spoke.

“I’m not so sure about that.” He replied, then he jerked his head towards the ocean. “If you’re so confident, then give it a go.”

You looked towards the ocean, your Ilu breathing steadily below you. You held onto the handle. “Okay...” You smacked yourself mentally for letting your voice falter.

Ao’nung didn’t miss it as he laughed. “What, not scared now, are you?”

“I’m not!” You growled. In a way to spite him, you tugged on your Ilu to go swim.

Your Ilu quickly dived, taking you aback as you tried to hold onto the handle for your life. Your legs wobbled as you tried to place them in between your Ilu.

But the speed was too much to bear as you were forced to let go, sending your body tumbling around in the ocean as you moved to upright yourself.

Ao’nung fully witnessed what happened underwater as he rose to the surface, laughing at you.

You rose to the surface as well, moving your hair away from your face. You could hear Ao’nung laughing behind you as your cheeks warmed in embarrassment.

“Told you so, maybe you should go back to the forest already.” He says to you.

“Shut up.” You said to him, then your Ilu appeared next to you, nudging your side as if to apologize. You moved your attention to the Ilu instead of Ao’nung.

He tilts his head, watching you interact with the creature, the corner of his lip almost twitching into a genuine smile.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Although within those weeks, Ao’nung was nowhere to be found. You took it that maybe he was busy with his hunter duties, that or just maybe he didn’t want to hang out with your kind.

Within the next few weeks, you had been trained by Tsireya and Rotxo to breathe and you could say you were already doing a decent job at it with the way you lasted minutes underwater. Often times all of you would ride on your Ilu’s, going on trips to wherever Tsireya or Rotxo had in mind.

You hated the way you found yourself thinking of where he could be whenever you were out with them. You also cursed yourself more often than not when you would see him passing by and you would be trying to avoid looking at him.

You hated him with every fiber of your being, so why on earth would you be missing him?

Emerging with your Ilu, you let out a deep breath along with your siblings.

“You are learning to breathe.” Tsireya says with a smile on her face.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Then a day came when you were all granted rest.

You chose to spend it with Kiri, your sister, by the ocean as you sat beside her in the water as she was laying stomach down, her head submerged under, looking at something in the sand.

Meanwhile you were sitting with your eyes closed, letting the warmth of the sun hit your skin as your hand swayed underwater, making little ripples.

Your ears perked as you heard sloshing behind you, then a voice followed.

“What are they doing?”

“I don’t know.”

“I would not be surprised if two of them were looking at the sand.”

Then a chorus of laughter.

That gathered you and Kiri’s attention as you turned your head to stand up, Kiri lifting her head with a dazed look on her face as she stood. “Huh?”

Your eyes immediately fell onto Ao’nung’s.

You knit your brows as your ears steered back.

“What did you say?” Kiri asked, you looked at her for a brief moment and you placed your hand out in front of her, to not let her get any closer to them.

“Are you guys… you know, freaks?” Ao’nung asks, his brows raised in amusement. You and Kiri looked at each other as you faced him again.

“Come on, he asked if you guys are freaks.” One of his friends repeated.

“No.” You sassed. “Let’s get out of here, Kiri.”

You began to walk away with Kiri, but they were still on your tail.

“Come on, are you sure? Don’t go already, we’re just asking a question.” His friend said.

You ignored them.

“Look, you’re not even real Na’vi!” Ao’nung says before his hand charged to grab at Kiri’s hand just in time for you to see.

You hissed loudly, dashing in front of Kiri to smack Ao’nung’s hand away from her. Ao’nung didn’t seem bothered, in fact, you thought it only motivated him more to see you that angry.

“Oh, oh.” His friends taunted, then Ao’nung successfully grabbed your wrist, his hold was unyielding as you tried to tug it away from him. “Let. Go. Of Me.” You said through gritted teeth, staring him down.

He looked entertained as he held your wrist up. “I don’t think so, four fingered f—"

“Hey! Back off fish lips!” You and Kiri’s head turn to see Lo’ak walaking towards you.

Ao’nung got distracted so you successfully tore your arm off his hold.

“Aw, another four fingered freak.” He now focused on Lo’ak.

“And look at his little tail!” The other said, tugging on Lo’ak’s tail, prompting Lo’ak to push the other Metkayina away. They began laughing “Look at that baby tail.”

You were not letting Lo’ak get into a fight again.

“Leave us alone!” You shout, trying to push Ao’nung off Lo’ak when Ao’nung turned to you, he acted like he was about to give you a shove when Neteyam suddenly appeared, him being the one to shove Ao’nung away from you.

“You heard what she said, leave them alone.” Neteyam’s voice threatened, pointing at Ao’nung’s chest.

“Back off. Now.” Neteyam warned, a slight hiss to his tone. Ao’nung did what he was told, holding his arms up as he walked back.

“Smart choice,” Said Neteyam before glancing at the rest of his friends “and from now on, I need you to respect my sisters.”

The other Metkayina hissed, while Kiri darted her tongue out at them, and you gave a teasing tight-lipped smile to Ao’nung.

“Let’s go.”

You all began to walk away when they snickered behind you. “Look at them, they’re all freaks, the whole family of ‘em.”

Seems like that was the last straw for Lo’ak as he turned back around on his heel again to approach the group, making you stop in your tracks.

“Lo’ak.” Neteyam called. He knew what his little brother was about to do.

“I got this, bro.”

You and Neteyam look at each other before looking back at Lo’ak.

“What is he doing…” You mumble to yourself.

“I know this hand is funny,” Lo’ak started showing his hand, especially his pinky finger. “Look, I’m a freak. Alien.”

At what Lo’ak said, they started laughing at him again, Ao’nung looked smug, which you just wanted to smack him in the face.

“But it can do something really cool,” Lo’ak continued. He balled his fist, “Watch, first I ball it up really tight like this… Kay? Then—“

You were taken aback as Lo’ak landed a punch on Ao’nung’s face, him being stunned for a second.

Lo’ak took the advantage, landing two more punches on him which sent him tumbling back on the sand.

“It’s called a punch, bitch!” Lo’ak growled. “Don’t ever touch my sisters again.”

The feeling of amusement quickly faded as Ao’nung’s group hissed at Lo’ak, then Ao’nung lunged at him, tackling him towards the ground.

“Ow! Ow!” Lo’ak screamed as he was pulled by his tail, he scurried to get up only to get slapped by the other boy with his tail on the cheek.

You and Kiri stood stunned.

Then Neteyam came forward. “Neteyam—” You called but he was already at the scene, delivering a knee to the gut to one of Ao’nung’s friends. Then they were both tackled to the ground. It was a blur of events.

“Stop!” You spoke. “So stupid!” Kiri added.

“Ow! My tail!” Lo’ak screamed as he was again pulled by his tail, but he retaliated by grabbing the opponent’s ear. “Ow, my ear! Let go!!”

As much as you hated seeing your brothers get beat up, it was an amazing sight to see. Especially you could see how beaten Ao’nung looked. Serves him right.

You and Kiri stifled your laughter at them.

By the looks of things, your two skxawng of a brother were winning.

But the fun had to end.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

You walked towards your Marui, followed by Neteyam, Lo’ak, and Jake.

“What was the one thing I asked?” Started Jake, looking at his sons. You stood to the side; your head bowed. “The one thing?”

“Stay out of trouble.” Lo’ak answered.

“Stay out of trouble.” Jake repeated.

Neteyam stepped up. “It was my fault.”

“I don’t think so- you gotta stop taking the heat for this knucklehead.” At the mention of ‘knucklehead’ Jake turns to look at Lo’ak.

Lo’ak looked at you before glancing back at his father. “Look, dad, Ao’nung was picking on (Y/N) and Kiri, called them freaks.”

With that, your head perked up as you feel your father’s eyes on you. “Is this true?”

You could only nod.

Jake gritted his teeth. “Go apologize to Ao’nung.”

“What?”

“He’s the chief’s son, do you understand?” Jake said. “I don’t care how you do it, just apologize.”

Lo’ak bit the inside of his cheek before he stormed off.

“For you, (Y/N). See if you can patch up the kid.”

“But wh—”

“Set things aside, you’re the best healer we’ve got. I’m sure the chief and the Tsahik would appreciate it. Just remember, if he tries anything funny, you’re out of there.”

You tried to hiss at your father for making him ask you to do that, but you just bit your tongue, scrambling to get your bowl and the materials needed, before grumbling your way out of the Marui.

Neteyam watched, as much as he wanted to stop you from going, he couldn’t speak up to his father. He then started to walk out of the tent, but his dad stopped him.

“Hey.” Neteyam turns around to meet his father. “So, what’d the other guys look like?”

“Worse.” Neteyam answered. “That’s good.”

With that, Neteyam’s energy picked up as he smiled proudly. “A lot worse.”

“Alright, get outta here.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

With every step you took felt like a death sentence.

You carried your bowl, already prepared with the paste you used to treat wounds back in the Omatikaya clan.

Soon enough, you approach the Marui of the chief.

With a deep breath, you slowly walked in.

It revealed Ao’nung sitting down while the Tsahik, Ronal seemed to be glaring at him as Tonowari stood tall, also carrying the glint of disappointment in his eye. But it was quick to disappear once he spots you.

“Jake Sully’s kid, (Y/N), what are you here for?”

“Olo’eyktan, Tsahik.” You greet with a bow. You could feel Ao’nung’s eyes on you.

With a deep breath, you tightened your grip on your bowl. “My father has asked for me to treat your son. I am most skilled in healing back in Omatikaya.” You held your words perfectly.

Ronal was looking at you now, you could feel your hair rising from the way she looked.

Tonowari seemed to appreciate the effort.

“That is a great gesture. But first I have to apologize in behalf of my son, I did not expect him to act this way.”

You felt somewhat relieved as you nod. “It is appreciated, Olo’eyktan.”

Tonowari turns toward Ronal. “Our son is in good care now, we must run through our duties for the day.”

He walks out and Ronal followed but stopped next to you.

You almost gulped as you turned to face her.

Ronal stared at you before she closed her eyes and nodded at you before leaving you with Ao’nung.

You were certainly terrified of the Tsahik.

But now you shifted your attention to the boy in front of you, he was still sat, looking at you.

“I don’t like this any more than you do. I’m only here because my father has asked me to, when you know very well I wouldn’t waste my time with you.” You firmly said, sitting on his side as you placed the bowl beside you.

Ao’nung, for the first time stayed silent.

You dipped your fingers in the paste, reaching up to his face but he tilted his head back.

Huffing in annoyance, you moved to sit up. “If you don’t want my help then I’ll just go back to my brothers. They need me more than you.”

“No.”

You furrowed your brows, sitting back down.

This time, he let you apply the paste to the arch of his brow, he hissed for a moment but breathed out instead.

He looked like he was searching for words to say.

“I’m sorry.”

You paused, your index and middle finger stuck on his brow.

“Again?” You said, looking at him.

He was about to reply with another sarcastic quip of his but he decided against it, wanting to really talk with you this time, seriously.

“I said I’m sorry.”

You were taken aback, but you nodded. “I thought I’d have to meet Eywa first before I can hear you say that.” You joked.

Ao’nung half-heartedly chuckled at your remark.

“But I do not know if you really mean that.” You say, now continuing to apply the paste to his injuries.

“I do mean it.” He says, staring at you.

You looked at him, this time you only realized how stunning he looked.

For Ao’nung, seeing your face this close sent his thoughts on a frenzy, were you really this breathtaking before?

“But that still doesn’t justify the way you treated us. Why must you hate us this much?” You say, removing eye contact with him to focus on his wounds.

“I do not- I do not hate you.” He said.

“Then why treat us like this? Calling us a freak. I know we’re different, laced with demon blood- but we’re still the same as you, we grew up here in Pandora, we eat the same, we work the same as you do. How are we any different as a Na’vi?”

Ao’nung was silent again. You were right. It was the first time someone talked to him like that and it stunned him.

“Forgive me. I do not know what else is out there, I’ve only been used to the ocean, with our people. Seeing you guys felt different.”

You understood his side. This time, you applied a cooling paste to his bruises to lessen the pain.

“So you don’t hate me?” You asked.

“No. But I understand if you hate me.” Ao’nung said.

You sigh. “I only acted like this because of how you did. But hey,” you offered your clean hand to him with a smile.

“Since we now understand where we came from, I hope this can give us a fresh start. Truce?”

Ao’nung looked at your hand before looking at you.

He shook your hand softly, squeezing. It sent some kind of electric shock into his veins straight to his heart. He liked the idea.

When you felt Ao’nung’s hand grip yours, you instantly felt relieved, a slight purple hue tinting your cheeks as he gave your hand a light squeeze.

“Truce.”

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alexa-fika · 6 months ago

Note

Aight here me out

Buggy has a child but instead their like moody, grumpy and stuff (like Octavia and loona from helluva boss) but they love buggy and would do ANYTHING for him

Happy go lucky dad 🤝 looks like it would kill you would kill you child

Substitute Assistant ( Cross guild x f!child!reader)

A/N not gonna lie I totally forgot who loons was, it’s been a hot minute since I watched helluva, since we are talking about helluva boss here, specifically loona, do expect a few swear words here and there. This one is kinda a flop but hopefully it lives to your standards Cosmo, I am surprised it wasn’t a Whitebeard request 😂,

Reader here is replaced by Dokucha which stands for Reader in japanese

Dividers by @/saradika

“Here you go, asshole,” Dokucha growled, throwing a stack of paper on Crocodile’s desk, a task that they had called her father to do

Crocodile lifts his gaze from his work to the child, taking another look at the stack that now lay on their desk

“Where is the clown?”

“Why the hell do you care?! You have your stupid reports, now leave my dad alone asshole!”

“Should a child your age be using such words?” The voice of the swordsman drawls from the sofa next to them

“Shouldn’t grown men be over bullying others like little children?” She snapped back

At that Crocodile let out a low chuckle that slowly grew into a full-out laugh

“Well, Well seems the brat has more guts than that useless clown,” he grinned

“Don’t call him that!”

“Would you prefer us we call him a coward instead?” Mihawk questioned, taking a sip from the wine in his hand as he continued observing the child’s rage bubble more and more

“Shut up! You assholes know nothing of Dad! He has done many things and gathered people of all kinds with his charisma alone; unlike you, he doesn’t have to pay off or bully people into being his followers!”

Crocodile lets out a dangerous smile at her words

“Funny seeing how it was your father who borrowed money from me, money that he lost and got him where he is now, so by all means, go ahead and tell me more about paying people off.”

“Just leave him alone; you got the business you wanted. Now leave him the hell alone.”

“No can do, little jester, see those people that your father won with his ‘charisma’ have named him the president of the guild; he’s not going anywhere,” Mihawk spoke

“Whether you like it or not, it was Buggy’s decisions that brought him here; he has no one to blame but himself,” he finished, swirling his cup around and downing the liquid inside

She growled, turning around and leaving the room only to be stopped by Crocodile’s voice

“Be a good child and bring me a light, will you?”

“Why the fuck would I do anything for the likes of you.”

“Because if you don’t, then I have no trouble calling your father in instead. While we’re at it, I might have a friendly chat with him about his brat’s behavior.”

She grits her teeth at his response, glaring at him as he chuckles in response

“When you return, I have a few other jobs for you to do, so don’t be long now.”

“Fine,” she snarls, stomping her way out of the office

“Dokucha, where did you run off to? I missed you, my little star!” Buggy cheered as the small girl entered the room

“I was busy,” she mumbled

“How was your day today, Dad?” She questioned

“It’s so much better now that my favorite act is here!” Launching himself toward her, babbling about the different things they could do on their next performance

She chuckled as he draped himself over her, hugging him and nuzzling into him

“Hey, Dad?”

“And then Richie would app-hah? Yeah? “He asked, pausing his rambling

“I love you.”

He looks at her for a few seconds before he begins coming apart in surprise, fumbling to put his body together

“Little Star! You are just the cutest,” he cried, hugging her tight

“Okay, don’t go too far, old man,” she grumbled, trying to get away from the suffocating embrace

“Of course, anything for my little star!”

Again this was kinda weak but I hope you like it, obviously Dokucha is more mellowed out compared to Loona, and she doesn’t have that tsundere side with Buggy , hope you find the dynamic interesting

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

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inbloomwriting · 6 months ago

Text

Everything to me - Chapter 2

Chapter two - Blueberry & Kidney Bean

Chapter 1

Plot: Jamie Tartt is a lot of things: professional footballer, the island's top scorer .... sexually, extremly handsome. But one thing he never saw himself as was a dad. Too bad he has to deal with the consequences of his own actions. This fic follows reader and Jamie as they navigate life and turn from practially strangers to parents. Pairing: Jaime Tartt x female reader Warnings: Pregnancy, swearing, mentions of food and alcohol, slight mention of sexual intimacy (nothing graphic), strained/toxic parental relationship Notes: 5.6k words. I do not have a set uploading schedule. Please bear with me as I work on this story. I know hardly anything about pregnancy, all my information comes from google. I tagged everyone who asked me to do it when I posted part 1. Please let me know if you want to be taken off or added to the taglist. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please

The store smells like dust and cardboard and old carpet. It's not necessarily a bad smell, it just doesn't live up to her memories.

She remembers the perpetual scent of menthol cigarettes and some kind of cheap men's perfume wafting through the air. The store used to smell like her dad and now it doesn't. And that just makes it all even more real.

Boxes upon boxes litter the room, filled with records. Some older, some newer. Guitars adorn one wall while the others are covered in posters from tours that happened long ago, some even before she was born.

There is something comforting about being here. It’s like stepping back into the past. Long nights watching Dad and his friends play their guitars after store-closing. Discovering new bands whenever a new shipment of records came in. And yes - she is the first to admit that in her younger years, she mostly chose the records by how cool the cover looked.

It’s also memories of Dad getting caught up in the after-hours jam sessions and forgetting about her dance recital and that one time he threw a guitar at the window out of anger that a shipment of records got lost. It took him months to get the window replaced. She could probably still trace exactly where the crack used to be.

Being here is very reminiscent in all the good and bad ways. But it’s a warped version of the past. One that’s laced with all the knowledge she has now. Like a movie that you’ve seen a million times.

“I don’t think pregnant women are supposed to be doing that!”

Jamie’s voice cuts through the nostalgia-induced fog like a sunbeam through the clouds. And it also gives her a little heart attack as the only sound filling the room up until now had been her moving around and the soft tunes of an Eric Clapton record playing in the background.

“Jesus fuck! You scared me. I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to startle pregnant women either and give them heart attacks.”

He looks at her with those big expressive eyes of his and a comically overdone pout on his lips. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. But seriously give me that.”

He’s so quick to take the box of records from her hands (Y/N) hardly has time to process what’s going on.

Quite honestly, his worry is a bit misplaced here but she appreciates the sentiment even if he might be a little overly cautious at that moment. It feels nice to be cared for.

“You know I’m pregnant, not sick, right? I can carry stuff.”

“Yeah but why would you if you got me carrying it for you?”

He has a point, she has to give him that.

“Fair enough. Those go over there in the corner please.”

Jamie follows her order without hesitation and, after setting the box down in its designated place, his eyes dart across the room and light up with childlike wonder and curiosity.

“This used to be your dad’s place, yeah? It looks really neat with all them posters and shit. Like stepping into an old person’s mind but like a cool old person that buys you alcohol when you’re 15 and lets you watch horror movies when your mum said no.”

Of all the adjectives in the world, (Y/N) wouldn’t ever think of using the word “cool” to describe her dad. He was creative and fun and eccentric and stubborn — but cool?

Then again he was her dad and no one ever likes to think of their own parents as cool. Oh god, will their kid think she’s uncool?!

“Uh yeah, the shop and the apartment right above us. He owned it, now I do. I’m trying to get it all fixed up and ready to be sold.”

“What? Why?”

There is something to be said about Jamie’s face and his absolute inability to mask his emotions. Everything he thinks and feels is mirrored twice as vividly on his face. He’s all furrowed brows and pouty lips.

“I mean — it’s a record store. People don’t really buy records anymore. Be honest, when was the last time you bought one instead of just streaming the music?”

“Like two weeks ago.”

“Fuck off, no you didn’t!”

“Uh — yeah, I did. Olivia Rodrigo if you must know.”

A soft giggle falls from (Y/N)’s lips. How fitting for Jamie to buy an album full of teenage angst.

“Well, you’re one of very few people though. In a perfect world, I wouldn’t have to sell. I’d keep it open. Instead of selling instruments, it’d turn that part of the shop into a little stage with a coffee counter or a bar. Host open mic nights and shine a spotlight on undiscovered artists. But the world isn’t perfect and there is no way I can afford to turn that vision into reality so really there’s no use in letting myself get too caught up in it.”

There is pity in his eyes and she hates it. She doesn’t want pity, not his or anyone else’s. Has seen enough of it, especially lately. If she had received just one more “Sorry for your loss” card in the mail from relatives she hadn’t seen in decades, she probably would’ve stabbed a fork in her own eye. Pity does no good to no one.

“Anyway, Jamie. Not that I don’t enjoy hanging out with you, it’s kind of necessary if we want to get this whole beings-friends-thing right, but uh — what are you doing here?”

“Jesus, can’t a guy just come around to say hi to his baby? “

She thinks the way he says the word “Baby” in his thick accent is surprisingly and undeniably adorable. As if it ends in an “eh” instead of a “y”.

“By the way, they’re as big as a blueberry now.”

And the way he’s keeping track of the baby's growth gets her right in the heart. For some reason, this seems to come so naturally to him when it all still feels weird and foreign and surreal to her. As if it were happening to someone else and she’s just a mere spectator. The idea that something as small as a blueberry will one day turn into a proper baby, a child, a teenager … a whole ass adult - is so wild to her. Almost incomprehensible. A person with their own feelings and dreams and personality. (Y/N) wonders if at any point in this pregnancy, she'll wake up and it'll all just make sense or if that only comes once she's holding the baby in her arms.

“That's cute. Doesn't answer my question though. What brings you here?”

A shadow of something flickers across Jamie’s face. Something unreadable and unfamiliar. Something that makes (Y/N) feel a sense of dread bubbling up in her stomach.

“I uh — I can’t do this.”

And there it is. That unfamiliar shadow is now a metaphorical atom bomb, a mushroom cloud of all that could have been and won’t be.

“Oh okay. I mean no, not okay. This sucks actually. You said you wanted to be part of the baby’s life and now you’re bailing? That’s a shit move, Jamie. You’re a right prick for pulling that crap.”

“What? Oh no!” his eyes widen as the realization sets in. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Well then what did you mean? Cause you’re truly giving me a heart attack right now. Second one for today. You really need to start working on your conversation starters.”

She had given him the chance to opt out of being a dad, to not be a part of the baby’s life. It seemed like the right thing to do and, foolishly, (Y/N) had believed that she’d be okay with him doing just that. In this very moment though, she feels everything but okay. The idea of Jamie changing his mind is terrifying.

Sometimes you don’t realize just how much you need something — or someone until you’re faced with the possibility of losing them.

“I mean, I can’t do this alone. I need to tell someone. All I keep thinking about is the baby and I feel like I am going to explode any second now. I know we can’t tell everyone yet ‘cause of — well you know, things going wrong and stuff. But I need to tell someone. You got to tell Rebecca and your mum, I think it’s only fair I get to tell two people as well, yeah?”

A sense of relief floods her. Starts in her toes and fills her all the way to the top of her head. He wants this — wants the baby. It’s not just her in this. It’s nice to know you have someone in your corner. It’s also scary. Because he deserves to know just whose team he’s on. And being vulnerable fucking sucks.

“Jamie, that’s fine. Absolutely you can tell your mum.”

“And Simon? You got two people so — “

“I didn’t though.”

“Uh yes, you did. I know you told Rebecca.”

“That’s right.”

“And your mum too”.

The silence that follows his words is deafening. Being vulnerable means also admitting guilt. It means owning up to all of your mistakes. Though we are not the sum of our mistakes, they are what help shape the person we become. And (Y/N) really doesn’t think they make her a very good one.

“And your mum too?”

More silence.

“You didn’t tell your mum? Why not? “

To his credit, Jamie looks truly surprised and confused. There is no judgment there, just absolute bewilderment and that signature softness that rounds out his features and settles in his eyes whenever Jamie talks to her about something serious. Granted they’ve not had that many conversations but she hopes that softness stays. She hopes that maybe their baby can have those soft, gentle eyes too.

“I’m not sure. I think I’m scared. My mum and I have a — complicated relationship. I disappoint her, she judges me. You know, the usual.”

“You think she’ll be disappointed because we're having a baby? Is it because of me?”

(Y/N) shrugs, breaking eye contact and fixing her gaze on the old grey carpet with the ugly 90s pattern. What if those soft eyes can look straight through her, see all the ugly parts and the insecurities? That’s too scary for now. Too much too soon.

“No, it has nothing to do with you. Think she’ll just be disappointed I didn’t get pregnant according to the timeline she dreamed up for my life when I was like 2 years old. Had it all planned out for me and I never stuck to it.”

Jamie is quiet for a moment but (Y/N) doesn’t dare to look back up at him. She can’t deal with any more pity.

“Well if you want to practice telling a mum, we can start with mine.”

“Huh?”

“You can come to Manchester with me if you want. To tell my mum. We’ll have one mum down then, makes it easier to do it a second time. It’s science.”

Jamie has the fascinating quality of making you believe in his words just by being so undeniably charming and because he believes in them himself. He makes it look easy when it is everything but.

“And if things don’t go well with your mum at least you’ll know you have at least one mum you can rely on, even if it’s not your own. She raised me pretty much by herself so she knows a thing or two about babies and parenting and stuff.”

The mocking raise of (Y/N)’s right eyebrow doesn’t go unnoticed by Jamie who opens his lips to a silent gasp and clutches his chest with an overly dramatic gesture.

“What? You saying I didn’t turn out perfectly?”

“No,” she laughs, a lightness festering in her chest. Like the first rays of sunshine after a cold winter that never seemed to end. Like a glass of wine after a long day at work. Like your favorite song on the radio at the exact moment you need it most. “I think you turned out exactly the way you were supposed to.”

“Thanks,” Jamie says with that cheeky smile playing on his lips that makes him look a little younger than he actually is. Then he dares to wink at her and it’s a little annoying but also insanely charming. “Not sure you meant it as a compliment but I am taking it. Now when are you free for a trip up to Manchester?”

(Y/N)’s been on a lot of road trips around the country when she was younger. She’s even spent a whole summer traveling Europe, partially by train but most of the time was spent stuffed in a Fiat Punto with 3 of her friends and all their luggage. It was stuffy, it was chaotic and it was immensely fun. None of those road trips ever involved a shiny black Aston Martin Rapide though.

Or a famous footballer dressed in the ugliest lime green sweater (Y/N) has ever seen.

“That’s all the luggage you got?” Jamie questions as he moves the black shades off of his eyes and sets them on the top of his head, holding back some of his hair. It shouldn’t work so well but it does.

“I mean, we’re only staying for a night right? Why? Should I have brought more? How much did you pack?”

He glances at her, then towards the car, and back at her. A sheepish look crosses his face before being replaced by his childlike cheekiness. “That’s confidential. Don’t worry about it, yeah?”

“I got my ginger lollies, that’s all that matters really.”

“You feeling alright?”

“Mh, I’m good. Just pregnant.”

His eyes drop down to her stomach for just a second before he nods his head in what (Y/N) can only describe as a mix of pride and satisfaction. “Yeah, you are.”

That’s new. Well not new-new but it hasn’t happened since the day of the funeral. That tingly feeling in her stomach that has fuck all to do with the baby and everything with how the baby got there. Yes, Jamie is hot and (Y/N) is the first to admit as much but there has been so much stress and chaos and she hardly had time to think about anything but surviving and making sure not to completely lose herself in bad visions of what-ifs that her brain has had no time to process any feelings of arousal or lust. That look he just gave her though, that one made her remember it for just a second.

“You sure you’re alright?”

Jamie’s voice shakes her from her daydream and brings her back to the real world, her eyes focusing back on the obscene car parked in front of her tiny apartment building looking so insanely out of place.

“Uh yes, I’m fine. I just — sometimes I forget that you’re famous.”

Jamie regards her for a moment before shrugging his shoulder and grabbing the bag from her hands. “I don’t. It’s fun. Now come on, let’s goooooo.”

His voice is dipped in excitement and there’s a bounce in his step. If this is how the prospect of seeing his mother makes him feel and behave, she must be one lovely woman. Whenever (Y/N) thinks of her own mother her chest fills with tiny metaphorical icicles. Sharp and rough and painful. It’s all regret and judgment and disapproval. It’s “You gained weight”, “you look tired”, and “You should really look into getting a new job”. Daggers disguised as roses. Stabs right to the heart in the name of being honest. “I just care about you, because I love you, because I am your mother!”

If there is one thing (Y/N) knows for sure, it’s that she will never ever find the need to resort to criticism and thinly veiled malice in order to show her child that she cares. They will know. Every single day. Because she’ll make sure to show them. Every single day in all the big and tiny ways a person can show their love.

“Kidney Bean?”

“Kidney Bean. And apparently, the baby is sprouting webbed fingers and toes right now. Oh, and it’s starting to move!”

��Can you feel that?”

“No, not yet.”

“It’s mental. Last week she was the size of a blueberry and now she’s a kidney bean. Kid’s growing up too fast.”

It’s true. There is so much happening all at once and it’s almost impossible to really process it all. Suddenly there is a tiny spark of a human inside her. Not really a baby yet but a baby to her. And it's moving and developing and changing every second of every day. Fucking insane.

“Wait … you said she. You think it’s a girl?”

Maybe it’s the sunlight casting a glow through the windshield but (Y/N) is almost certain she can just about make out a blush dusting Jamie’s cheeks.

“Dunno.”

“Jamie Tartt, do you want to be a girl dad?”

He glances at (Y/N) through the corner of his eyes for just a moment but it’s enough for her to see the sincerity in him. This is something he’s thought about before. Learning new things about Jamie is fascinating.

“Ah, it’s stupid, really. It’s — It’s dumb or whatever.”

“No, come on, don't go shy on me now. Tell me.”

He takes a deep breath. A moment passes then another. There is no rush. Sometimes silly thoughts are the result of harsh truths.

“Told you my dad was a prick. Like the biggest piece of shit walking this earth, yeah? And I knew that all my life. Thing is I still tried to impress him. I just — I wanted him to like me so badly. Just felt wrong that me own dad didn’t care about me and that made me angry. And I kept that anger inside me for so long. Sometimes when I think about the baby and the future I am scared that if I have a son that anger will jump over to him. Like maybe all Tartt men are cursed or some shit like that. But if I had a little girl maybe that would make it easier for me to be a good dad. I don’t mind either way, obviously, but the idea of having a son scares me.”

It’s the most vulnerable he’s been with her so far and by the way he clenches his jaw and grabs onto the steering wheel just a little tighter, (Y/N) can tell this isn’t easy on him. It means a lot that he shares this part of him with her anyway. It feels like they are actually becoming friends. So opening up to him in return is only half as horrifying.

“When I was a kid, maybe 11 or 12, I wrote a short story for school and I won an award. They did this big ceremony thing where the 3 finalists got to read their stories out loud for an audience and then receive their prizes. My mum didn’t show up, not sure if it was because she stayed longer at the office and didn’t care enough to leave on time or if she just didn’t feel like getting out of the house. Point is, she wasn’t there. When I came home that night I was sad, obviously, and I was also pissed. Because why the fuck couldn’t she take one night off to come see me succeed at something even if it wasn’t something she deemed worthy of praise.

So I yelled at her and I’m sure I said some hurtful things. But I was so devastated and angry and I needed an outlet for once. She called me ungrateful but I was used to that, she always called me ungrateful. Then she looked at me with that look of absolute resignation and malice and she said that she hopes I have a daughter like me one day and that she makes me realize how hard it is to love me.

When I think of the baby, sometimes I see a little girl too. One that I will love so much she never has to doubt it for a single second. And I will also prove my mother wrong. Because it will be so easy to love my little girl and it would’ve been so easy to love me, her little girl.”

It’s the first time she’s ever said those words out loud. Truly, (Y/N) had not expected for them to come out in an Aston Martin, on the way to meet her baby’s father’s mother but life doesn’t seem to care for plans very much these days.

Softly, as if to not startle her, Jamie places his hand on hers, squeezing gently.

“I think your mum is a right bitch.”

“Thanks. I think your dad is a huge asshole.”

“We’re gonna be better than them, right?”

It’s not really a question. It’s more of a promise.

“We will. I know it.”

His hand doesn’t leave hers for a good long while.

The nerves don’t hit her until they pull up to the quaint little house with the white front. There’s a rose bush to the side and some kids playing football just across the way. The nerves don’t hit her until Jamie puts the car in park but when they do, they hit her like a freight train.

“Woah, you alright?”

“Huh?”

“You look all pale and like you’ve seen a ghost or something. Do you have to puke?”

A chuckle falls from her lips at the absurdity of it all. In all honesty, she’s not met a lot of parents yet but the few she did meet were parents of actual partners. People she had been dating for a while. It was a natural progression of steps. This is all wrong and sideways and topsy-turvy. You’re supposed to meet the mum first and then get pregnant.

Again with the life and the plans.

“I’m fucking nervous.”

“Hah,” Jamie laughs. The audacity of this guy. “You’re nervous to meet my mum? Why? She’s an angel.”

“Do you not know how intimidating that is? Like, if she was shit I wouldn’t care but she sounds wonderful and I want her to like me. No, I need her to like me. Desperately. And I can only imagine what she thinks of me already. Some floozy who gets knocked up and really just wants your money.”

Before she even fully realizes what’s happening, (Y/N) feels Jamie’s hands on her cheeks, framing her face in warmth.

“Calm down, please. I promise it’ll be alright. My mum will love you, I know it. Probably more than she loves me. Actually no that’s a lie, but she will love you and she will love our baby. Promise.”

“She’s not gonna judge me for — you know. Getting pregnant even though we’re not dating or anything.”

“My mum was married to my dad, worst person on planet Earth. Don’t think she’s in any position to judge you. It’ll be alright, trust me.”

She hardly knows this man and yet she can’t help but do just that. Trust him.

The first thing (Y/N) notices about Georgie is her smile. A smile that is so familiar because it looks exactly like Jamie’s smile. Warm and radiant and true. A part of (Y/N) hopes that their baby inherits that same smile. Partially because it’s a really good smile and partially because maybe that could help Jamie realize that he is more than the sum of his father’s problems and mistakes. He is all his mother’s boy.

“Oh, I missed you, my baby.”

Georgie wraps her arms around Jamie’s middle, getting swallowed by his frame for a moment. There’s no denying that part of (Y/N)’s heart breaks a little seeing how loving of a relationship these two have and wondering where she and her own mother went wrong.

And as it so happens with so many kids that have never been loved quite the way they deserved, (Y/N) can’t help but search for the problem in herself.

“Yeah sorry for not visiting earlier. You know how it is with training and stuff.”

“Don’t worry about it. I know my boy is busy being a star.”

The words hold a slight mocking, never mean but in the way that only people who are close can tease each other. You know every word comes laced with deep affection, with pride, with love.

“And it’s so nice to meet you too. I’m Georgie.”

It takes a second for (Y/N) to realize that Jamie’s mum is now talking to her directly.

“I uh — oh thank you. Nice to meet you too, I’m (Y/N).”

Georgie smells like mint chewing gum and floral perfume as she pulls (Y/N) into a hug. She’s soft and gentle and it’s been the first hug from a mother (Y/N) has received in quite some time.

“Sorry, didn’t even ask if you’re a hugger.”

“Oh that’s alright, don’t worry about it.”

She’s not a hugger, never really was, but there is something about Georgie granting her some affection that isn’t all that bad. Maybe their kid can have at least one grandmother who cares and who isn’t completely disgusted by the idea of showing any kind of positive emotions.

“Jamie never brings girlfriends around so I’m a bit out of my element here if I’m being honest.”

“Mum we’re not — she’s not.” Jamie takes a big breath before starting again “(Y/N) and I are friends, yeah? Told you about it on the phone.”

“Right, right. Well, you don’t bring around a lot of friends either so same difference, really. Now come inside will you, I’m sure we got a lot to catch up on.”

Oh if only she knew how true that sentiment really is.

There are pictures of Jamie staring back at (Y/N) from every corner of the house and Georgie leads them through the hallway and towards the kitchen. Every wall and every shelf holds a memory of him at one point in his life. Gap toothed with a football in hand smiling, surrounded by a field of tulips arm wrapped around his mother’s shoulder, his teenage self smoldering at the camera with an even more questionable haircut than the one he is sporting right now. Oh to be loved in a way that every past version of you is being remembered.

As they reach the kitchen a sweet scent fills the room when a man clad in an apron turns around and faces them with a huge smile playing on his face. He has a dorky kind of charm to him that immediately puts you at ease. Maybe it’s just the frilly apron, maybe it’s the big oven gloves, maybe it’s the smile. Either way, (Y/N) thinks that if they take the news well, her kid might have truly lucked out on one side of the grandparents department.

“Jamie, welcome home.”

“Hi Simon, thanks, mate. Glad to be back. This is (Y/N).”

“The friend, right.” Simon says and shoots Georgie a look that neither of them misses. Subtlety doesn’t seem to be one of his best qualities. “It’s nice to meet you, (Y/N).”

“Nice to meet you too. It smells amazing in here.”

“I found this new recipe for honey blondies. Not sure if they'll be any good but I guess we'll find out. If you guys want to go have a seat, I'll come bring them over.”

“Actually,” Jamie speaks up while nervously fiddling with his hands. “I was hoping we could have a talk before we do anything else. There’s something I need to tell you both.”

Imagining the hypothetical scenario of telling your mum you’re having a baby and actually doing it really are two completely different things it seems. Gone is all of Jamie’s confidence and replaced with a whole lot of anxiety.

“You're worrying me, Jamie. What has you acting so serious? Did you get someone pregnant or something?”

Georgie's words are followed by a thick awkward silence. It's heavy and suffocating and it makes (Y/N) feel uneasy in both her heart and her head.

It doesn't take long for Jamie’s parents to realize what his silence means. Everything communicated by not saying a single word.

“Oh, fuck.”

And there's nothing to add to Georgie's reaction. It's the exact same one (Y/N) had when she first saw those faint blue lines.

Of all the possible outcomes and ways this day could’ve gone, (Y/N) had not expected to find herself staring at not only a curly-haired Roy Kent but also come face to face with two very persuasive arguments belonging to no other than Keeley fucking Jones.

“This is surreal.”

The posters stare back at her all crinkled paper and bleached ink, as if to mock her silently.

“Ah, well I told them to redecorate when I moved out, think they just haven’t gotten around to it yet.”

A light dusting of pink settles on the apples of Jamie’s cheeks as well as the tips of his ears. This man can’t hide his emotions for the life of him. It’s quite adorable really.

“Do they know?”

“Does who know?”

“Roy and Keeley. Do they know you have their pictures up in your room?”

“Well no and It’s not my room anymore, is it? ‘S not like I have ‘em hanging at home. Put these up ages ago.”

A giggle slips through (Y/N)’s lips at his desperate attempt to talk himself out of this situation.

“It’s okay, Jamie. I won’t tell.”

“There’s nothing to tell, alright?” he responds in mock offense before sitting down on his childhood bed next to (Y/N). “Just liked boobs and football and those two were the best those fields had to offer, yeah? Can’t really blame me.”

“Not much has changed has it?”

He shrugs his shoulders in response “Nah. Still like boobs and football but no way I’d put up a poster of granddad’s ugly mug nowadays.”

From the few times they talked about his job, including his teammates and coaches, (Y/N) was able to gather that Jamie’s relationship with Roy is something special. Odd, but special. Maybe that’s what happens when you end up working with your childhood idol. Either way, no matter how much shit he likes to talk about him, it’s clear that Jamie respects and admires Roy a great deal still.

“And uh — and Keeley?”

“What about her?”

“Is she — are you — how are things?”

She still remembers that crestfallen look on his face on the day of the funeral. That infinite sadness in his eyes. She hadn’t put two and two together at that moment but later that night it all clicked. Keeley was the woman he was in love with, the woman who did not love him back. And while (Y/N) knows that she and Jamie are only bound together by happenstance and fate — if one chooses to believe in that, and that there is nothing romantic about their situation, it does sting a little to know that the man you’re having a baby with is in love with someone else.

“We’re good. We’re friends, think that’s all we’ll ever be. Her and Roy, they’re happy and I don’t want to ruin it for either of them. Keeley and I just were not right together.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

He nods his head, a small smile playing on his lips “Yeah, I’m alright with it. If I hadn’t made a fool of myself at the funeral then you and I wouldn’t have — you know, and then we wouldn’t be having a baby. Little Kidney Bean.”

“That’s true. Your mum seemed excited.”

“Hah, sorry about her. She can be intense.”

Intense might be the understatement of the century. It took her approximately 2.3 seconds to get over the initial shock of the announcement and really process it before Georgie let out a scream of pure excitement and joy and wrapped both Jamie and (Y/N) up in her arms. She didn’t fully let go for a good 20 minutes. It was intense. It was also phenomenal.

“Don’t apologize. I am so glad she took it so well, Simon too. At least now I’ll have the certainty that my baby will have one set of loving grandparents at least.”

“Hey,” Jamie says and nudges her shoulder with his “We’ll sort out telling your mum next, okay. I’m sure it’ll go better than you think. And if not we can always call up my mum for some more hugs and a pep talk. Whatever happens, you won’t have to do it alone. I promise.”

For what is probably the first time in her life (Y/N) lets herself believe that there truly is someone else having her back, undisputedly and all the way. It’s unfamiliar. It’s a little scary. It’s also wonderful.

“Thanks, Jamie. I appreciate it, I really do. Think so far we’re doing alright, huh?”

“I’d say so. Two sexy parents and a little Kidney Bean.”

Their laughter echoes through Jamie’s childhood bedroom for quite a while longer until at some point it stills and gives room to soft breathing and quiet snores. The bed isn’t meant for two grown adults and really Jamie truly meant to sleep on the couch but somewhere between talks of baby clothes and childhood memories, eyes grew heavy and tired, and soon enough both of them are fast asleep.

Just them and their little Kidney Bean

— and a curly-haired Roy Kent

— and Keeley’s boobs.

taglist (@ me if you want to be taken off or added): @captainfrisbee - @scaramou - @mischiefmanaged71 - @rexorangecouny - @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog - @tweasley20 - @dreamtrydoforkinggood - @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo - @heletsmelovehim - @snubug - @katdahlali - @oldglitterstory - @lalla-04p - @aiyaiy

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x f!reader #jamie tartt x female reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt fanfic #jamie tartt x y/n #inbloomwriting #jamie tartt x fem!reader #everythingtomefic #ted lasso tv show fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt imagines

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hwnglx · 3 months ago

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for dear anon who requested ᰔ ᩚ

(to clear up misunderstandings, this is a reading on what in another person could turn the members on and off. i realized my wording might cause confusion, sorry about that)

stray kids' turn on's and turn off's

based on tarot. i do not know these idols personally. energies are always changing. what i say is NOT straight fact. pls take it with a grain of salt!

bang chan

turn on's > charming and eloquent (someone who's a very good speaker and communicator) > tactful and strategic -> isn't too overwhelming in their approach and acts carefully > unique looking -> stands out among other people > foreigners or people with a completely different background > knows the value of hard work > courageous and outspoken about things they believe in > has an immense amount of passion for something -> borders on obsession (he needs someone extremely invested in what they do, otherwise they wouldn't understand his lifestyle) > also, obsessed and clingy with him (he likes feeling needed and the thought of being the only person they see)

turn off's > way too selfish and greedy, no consideration for people in need of help > keeps being negative and dwelling on the past > lets go of things/people too easily -> gets discouraged fast > gets scared of the real world and escapes every challenge or obstacle in life > tactless communication -> says wrong thing at the wrong time, doesn't know how to articulate themselves smartly and adjust their words to the situation > takes everything personally and gets defensive fast

lee know

turn on's > laidback and calm energy > isn't extremely competitive and doesn't get greedy over useless things -> knows when to give in > ideally non-famous and ordinary people (he likes the thought of his partner providing him with some normalcy) > very observant and notices small details about you > knows when to let go and doesn't cling onto things (like someone who knows things come and go and is accepting towards the harsh realities of life) > isn't interested in gossiping, stays away from childish drama

turn off's > plays useless games with you (like playing hard to get) > is too delusional and unrealistic > keeps whining and crying over how awful their life is (lmao i can see him being taken aback and thinking “am i your babysitter”) > unreliable and doesn't keep their promise (someone who tells you they'll do one thing and end up doing another) > unwilling to acknowledge and work on their toxic habits (he just hates pretentious people who act all smug when they're not, he thinks it's very cringy because he can see through it)

changbin

turn on's > humble and grounded > a lot of potential and enthusiasm for something (he likes it when someone has motivation and goals, he wants to help them reach whatever they aspire to be) > has love for everyone and spreads kindness -> goes through life non-prejudiced (he likes pure people) > thinks and acts with and from their heart > considerate of people's needs -> doesn't put themselves above anyone and knows how to be happy for others > doesn't rush into things and approaches everything with patience (someone who thinks before acting) > responsible and takes care of the people they cherish

turn off's > lazy and doesn't set themselves up to any standards (just goes through life without any goals or ambition) > doesn't take life seriously, makes inappropriate jokes > is unnecessarily strict in how they treat others (he thinks why be hurtful if you can get the point across in a considerate manner) > doesn't know how to have empathy for people > very egocentric > moves on too quickly (it'll make him wonder like damn did i even mean anything to you if you're already over me)

hyunjin

turn on's > guarded, careful who they get close to (doesn't share their business with everyone) > deeply empathetic and caring nature, good listener (i can tell he finds beautiful and calming voices attractive) > fiercely loyal and committed to the people they love (he gets insecure about not being enough for his partners, so he needs the guarantee that you won't leave) > very determined and driven to fulfil their desires (is very eager and direct in their pursuit, he likes feeling like you're obsessed with him) > capable of carrying responsibilities and burdens on their shoulders -> doesn't get tired quickly, makes it look easy > helps him understand himself better (he wants someone who can make him feel confident & comfortable in his skin)

turn off's > doesn't understand the weight of deep connections -> gets close to many people (can make him feel like he isn't special) > hides and runs away from their emotions > holds endless grudges and never lets go of past occurrences > doesn't have an opinion of their own, just follows the crowd > keeps being dissatisfied, complaining and nagging at him (this would make him very self-conscious, he wants someone who's accepting of his imperfections) > dependent on others to help them -> doesn't know how to heal themselves and self-sabotages

(tbh, i can feel that hj wants someone who fills all his weak spots, because if he was with someone too similar to him, he feels like that'd be a recipe for disaster)

felix

turn on's > cheerful and full of energy, ability to light up the room > self assured and confident > very protective and willing to do anything to defend their loved ones (wants someone more direct and unafraid than him, he's too much of a people-pleaser) > carries a lot of inner wisdom and always has good advice > self-aware and reflective of their own actions and words > very different to him (whether that's in looks, personality, mindset. he gets intrigued) > a lot of inner strength and resilience -> doesn't falter easily > plus physical strength as well > puts plenty of thought into their relationships and feels the need to look after their loved ones, worries about him (he wants to feel safe and taken care of)

turn off's > doesn't care about boundaries and acts recklessly > bad manners > doesn't take care of their health and takes it for granted > always negative and drags others into their negativity > plays victim all the time and complains a lot (especially about others) > lacks drive and motivation in life > is too narrow-minded, traditional and conservative -> judgemental of minorities and people different to them > deliberately uses sharp and cruel words to hurt people and push their buttons or provoke them -> keeps starting conflicts > badmouths people too much

jisung

turn on's > has strong capacity for a deeply emotional bond (doesn't take relationships lightly and is emotionally involved) > pushes him to be a better version of himself > has a comforting and soothing effect on him -> makes him feel safe and understood > helps him acknowledge and work on his toxic habits (also loves him regardless of him not being perfect -> helps him accept himself the way he is) > very romantic and affectionate (compliments, words of affirmation!) > self-assured and headstrong -> doesn't get beat down easily (fire sign energy) > is tolerant and understanding of his circumstances and lifestyle (accepting the fact that relationships aren't that easy for him and dating him can come with certain struggles)

turn off's > is too possessive and clingy -> doesn't give him space > makes him feel incapable or inadequate (triggers his insecurities and his self-doubt) > acts like they're his parent (lol like someone who babys him too much and doesn't acknowledge he is a grown man) > gets too controlling and acts like they have a say in his life > is too strict and direct with him (he needs some sugarcoating sometimes) > too materialistic and focused on superficial matters (like looks, money, fame etc.) > is very hot and cold -> makes him believe one thing and then says something else, keeps him on his toes too much > is too conservative and stuck in the way they see things -> not open and understanding of different perspectives

seungmin

turn on's > knows exactly what they want in life and what to do to get it > independent and self-reliant (especially when women are very self-sufficient and in no need of anyone, he thinks it's admirable) > strongly stands by their belief or opinion and isn't fazed by external influences > very creative and passionate (especially musically, he likes it when people express themselves in an artistic manner) > trustworthy and committed to everything they do > can be their own boss and doesn't allow anyone to commend them around > elegant, well-mannered and polite

turn off's > keeps themselves trapped in their own delusions and refuses to open their eyes to reality > spoiled, takes precious things and people for granted > too attached and obsessed about materials or money -> doesn't know how to appreciate what they have (especially family, he definitely wants someone devoted to their home) > thinks they're levels above everyone and acts entitled > has something negative to say about everyone and is too judgemental > too antisocial and boring

jeongin

turn on's > free-spirited and fun to be around > has an optimistic outlook on life and doesn't always take it too seriously (i can tell he really likes someone with a great sense of humor who can make him laugh) > observant and curious about him as a person > makes him feel confident and special (a lot of compliments) > natural charisma and strong presence (main character energy, attracts gazes wherever they go) > but! okay with making themselves smaller and stepping back for him to shine and be the main character (lmao like telling him he's so much better than them etc.) > isn't afraid of arguments -> fearless and headstrong (he doesn't like scaredy cats)

turn off's > too prideful and ego-centric > overly serious and uptight all the time -> boring and doesn't know how to take a joke (like buzzkills, someone who keeps ruining the fun) > too focused on marriage and the longterm (he just wants someone to have fun with and see what comes out of it, he doesn't consider marriage right away) > surrenders and gives in too easily -> doesn't put up a fight > too obsessed about their own career and overly focused on remaining stable (cheap and boring people)

#kpop tarot #stray kids tarot

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barbieaemond · 11 months ago

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And all the roses turn to black

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x reader

Warnings: angst, implied smut, fingering

Author’s note: I have no idea what this is. It just came to me like this lol

Word count: 686

taglist: @zae5 @multyfangirl @chompchompluke

The coin twists and turns, and you with it, waiting to see if you will go to bed with regret or remorse. They have been merging for some time; it is hard to draw the boundaries between one or the other, between what is right and what is wrong.

The anarchy of your heart dictates different laws. All it takes is a fresh bouquet of roses on your bedside table to get you over the boundaries. White roses, precisely, not blue, not to be too obvious.

"I hate to break it to you, but any kind of rose is…quite plain."

“Precisely how my intentions shall be: plain.”

“They’re orders, not intentions. I shouldn’t owe you anything more than my loyalty.”

“That is loyalty.”

“The Gods may beg to differ.”

“I don’t think I care.“ he had swallowed your useless grievances with a kiss that dug into you like a claw, and you had let him cut you openly, you let him carve his law like an awl in stone, welcoming each groove, blowing your obedience into his mouth, swearing on his name again and again as you came undone beneath him.

With each rose found in your rooms, a new oath muffled on sweaty sheets and on his ruthless mouth. Ruthless in words and bites, in kisses, in the way his tongue draws arabesques on the swollen skin between your legs, in how he slips inside your drenched flesh as if slipping a ring on his finger. Just like the one he wears, proudly displaying the seal of his noble house.

The same one you had seen twirling between his fingers that morning when you were walking in the gardens with your husband. He had seen you and fucked you from that distance. You felt it.

Inside, you had bent over on the grass, in front of your husband, with the sun beating hard on your naked limbs as the Prince grabbed your hips and thrust harder, spilling another sacred oath from your throat.

“I thought of making love to you this morning.”

“Where? In the garden? With your husband watching?”

“Yes.

“And then what?”

“And then it was all I could think about.”

“‘Tis not what I asked.”

“I did not do it.”

“Good.”

“I hate someone else touching me. Including myself.” hunger clouded his eye and then you were panting, arching your back as he slipped two fingers between your wet lips. “Do you see what you did to me?” you panted next to his ear, feeling his hot cheek against yours and the low groan hissed through his teeth as he bit your jaw. “I loathe my own body when you’re not inside me.” you said, cursing his name as he slid a third finger “You turned me into a vestige.”

You spin the coin one last time and you’re out of your room. He’s sitting by the fire, unbothered as you step in front of him. The only sign that tells you he’s not transmuted into stone is the light raising of his chest.

“No roses?”

No answer. Only a glance up before returning to the flames.

“I know what happened. Lucerys is dead.”

Aemond looks up, his eye is peaceful. A malignant peace the Gods will curse him for.

“Why are you hiding in here?”

“I am not.” he says “I’m sparing my family.”

“Of what?”

“My lack of regret.” the words do not come out of his mouth, but from some haunted place where a maimed child swore revenge on and on, screamed it so much that he’d lost his voice, so he carved it into his flesh and the retribution had finally come, mangling his nephew in bits of bones swallowed by the sea.

“Don’t spare me.” You say sitting on his lap, as at the altar of your own.

“This means war.” he says tilting his chin until he’s breathing through your lips “Your husband shall be willing to go back to the West and call his banners.”

“Indeed.”

“And where will you be?”

“Where my loyalty lies. Until all the roses turn to black.”

PART II

#liv(in la vida loca)#liv's drabbles #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x wife reader #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x fem!oc

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neteyamslovrr · 2 years ago

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Mixed Feelings Pt2

summary: ao’nung is coming to terms with his feelings for the eldest sully daughter, y/n. But it looms over him that he yearns for her to feel the same way.

1.7k words

read pt1, pt3

──── ⑅*❀*⑅ ────

Ao’nung barely slept that night. His eyes may of been closed but only to relive the moments he spent with you just hours prior. He wished the walk to where your family slept wasn’t so short. He wished that he could’ve gotten to look into your yellow eyes just a moment longer.

Moments with you weren’t the only thing troubling his mind however, his heart wanted to spend every breathe he took beside you, yet his mind told him to stay away. You’re still different. A forest girl, useless to him and his clan but yet he felt a magnetic pull towards you.

The sun was beginning to rise, meaning so did the people. Noise started to fill the village of quiet yawns and scuffles as everyone was beginning to wake. Tsireya was usually first to wake within her family so she was shocked to already see Ao’nung sitting up in his hammock.

“Brother, what are you doing up already.” She questioned rubbing her eyes making a confused face at him.

“I had trouble sleeping, that is all.” He replied back to her standing up stretching his legs. He wondered if he could confide to Tsireya about his feelings towards you. But he’d never do that, Ao’nung is too proud to confide to anyone.

Tsireya nodded in acknowledgement as she too stretched her legs. Both siblings had morning chores to do so they went along with their usual routine, but Ao’nung was looking forwards to later in the day. To get to see you alone, just you two. He hated this anticipation it made him cringe when he even smiled to the thought of seeing you.

You were so nervous to meet Ao’nung. What if it was a prank. What if he was going to ridicule your lack of skill the entire time. You couldn’t deny the feeling of affection you had towards the boy but still you were holding back because of his disapproval towards your family.

You still couldn’t shake the feeling of his plump lips on the tops of your fingers. The way he looked at you and slightly squinted his eyes almost to focus his sight on you. You were flustered by him and your thoughts were infatuated with him.

Ao’nung was already at the shoreline impatiently waiting for you to turn up. He paced in a circle looking down at the sand. He was scared you weren’t going to come, but then it wasn’t like this was a date, it was a lesson. A lesson to teach a useless Na’vi how to become less of a baby within his clan.

You ran down the beach realising you took too long talking to Kiri just before you met him. Racing down to meet him you were slightly out of breath. You tapped on his shoulder making him turn around quickly with a shocked face. It was kind of cute you thought to yourself.

“Sorry I am late, I got carried away talking to Kiri.” You say in a breathy tone waving your hand around in an apologetic way.

“Maybe you need lesson in time management along with breathing. Is there no punctuality in the forest?” Ao’nung scoffed sitting down on the sand. The piece of beach was a bit away from the village meaning it was truly just you two alone.

“Wow! how kind of you.” You rolled you eyes sitting cross legged in front of him. You were so close to him that your knees touched lightly whenever you adjusted in the sand. Ao’nung sat up right his hands on his thighs waiting for you to copy his posture.

“I want you to breath in how you would do before you swim.” Ao’nung said he flicked his hand motioning for you to do as he said. He watched you take a small breath, (which you thought was big), the way you eyes had a taint of concentration and your eyebrows furrowed when you inhaled. He thought it was adorable.

“That was a pathetic breath Y/N.” Ao’nung stated blankly looking into your eyes. He’d never look away from them if he didn’t have to. “You breathe through your chest, breathe through your stomach instead.”

Following his instructions you breathed through your stomach but it was still ‘pathetic’. Ao’nung closely watched how your chest shook when you took a deep breath and the way your hands that relaxed on your thighs became tense when you inhaled.

He scooted closer to you, resting on his feet as he sat beside you. Leaning in and placing his hand on the skin of your ribs. “You need to relax.”

It was hypocritical for him to say that because as soon as he laid his hand on you he felt like he was buzzing. His blood rushing through his body fast, as his eyes fixated on the beauty of your face. The way you closed your eyes and concentrated was so beautiful. No. You were beautiful.

He couldn’t deny it to himself any longer. His feelings towards you were strong. Stronger than any condemnation to your clan, your skill, or your family.

While Ao’nung has an inner monologue with himself, you were hot. Hot and flustered with the way his hand rested on yourself. You couldn’t decide if you wanted his hand to stay there forever and for him to never be apart from you or rip himself off of your skin and attack his face with your lips. There was no way you could relax. Not in a million years.

“I cannot relax.” You say looking up at him as you grab his hand, one of your hands holding his pinkie the other holding his thumb. Ao’nung felt as if a part of himself was torn off when his hand left you. But he couldn’t complain as you hands tightly held onto his finger. He squinted his eyes in confusion as you open and closed your mouth thinking of words to say.

“I cannot relax with your hands on me.” You said barely above a whisper looking down still holding onto him.

Ao’nung felt confused. Was it because you hated how he touched you or were you feeling the same as him. He hoped for the latter. He watched the way your hands were slightly shaking around his fingers. Your hair fell over your face as your head hung low. You couldn’t meet his strong gaze. It was intimidating.

“Then I won’t touch you.” He said pulling his hand out of your grasp backing away from you so that you were slightly less than arms reach apart. His eyes bored into you. He watched you carefully, his head tilted slightly.

“No no.” You said scooting towards him. You put your hand onto his chest where his was just before. Ao’nung let out a short breath making you chuckle slightly. His body tensed up and his heartbeat skyrocketed. He couldn’t ever hate this feeling like he felt he should. He wanted your hands on him constantly. “See it’s hard to relax in a situation like this.” You chuckled about to take your hand off his warm body.

However, Ao’nung had other plans. Hastily grabbing your hand with both of his and roughly placing it on his heart. His hands squeezed your hands tightly as you stared at him with anticipation. A long pause occurred as Ao’nung looked as if he was about to scream into the air.

“Y/N do you feel this? Do you feel how fast my heart is beating for you right now? Can you hear it thumping as I do? It feels as if it is ready to jump out of my skin. Why do you make me feel this way? I didn’t sleep at all last night. You know why? I was up thinking about you. Your stupid tail, your hair, your laugh, your smile, everything about you.”

Ao’nung’s tongue moved fast as he spilt his thoughts into words. He stared deeply into your eyes feeling like his stomach was twisting inside out. How could he spill that? What possessed him to say something so utterly stupid.

“Ao’nung I-.” You stuttered looking at him as he placed your hands back down. He looked dejected ready to get up and leave. He couldn’t stand how thick the air had started to feel. He had to leave.

You wouldn’t let him do that. Putting both hands on his shoulders nervously shaking as you blinked your eyes rapidly to avoid looking at him. He took his hand and guided your chin up to look him in the eye. “Please say something Y/N, don’t leave me in this tortuous suspense any longer.”

“I feel your heartbeat. My heartbeat resembles yours. I may have slept last night but all my dreams consisted of you. You're stuck in my mind constantly Ao’nung and it feels so wrong. But I want to be wrong…with you.” You couldn’t help but look at him. The way his eyes lit up and his signature smile was painted across his face.

His thumb caressed your cheek as his calloused knuckles ran across your face. His eyes darted from your loving stare down to your lips that you were slightly biting the inside of. Moving his thumb from your cheek he dragged it across your bottom lip.

You noticed the glint in his eyes and then he crashed his lips into yours. Like fireworks lightly in your chests you kissed him back passionately. Ao’nung couldn’t believe this was happening, his other hand came up to the other side of your face to deepen the kiss.

It felt magnificent, the way his lips felt on yours, the way his hands gripped your face and the way your heart beat for him.

Soon he parted from his lips resting his forehead on yours. Both out of breath you gazed into each other’s eyes. “Y/N, my forest girl.” He whispered into your ear then once again sharing a soft kiss with you.

──── ⑅*❀*⑅ ────

authors note: here pt2 thanku sm for the love on my fics <3 don't be afraid to request (i have no ideas i'm begging)

taglist: @selenaelena @ao-sleepy @theghostofshadows @goodiesinthecloset21 @an0th3rsss

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dysfunctionalmaki · 10 months ago

Text

Say My Name

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Chapter 05/?

Summary: You work all around at the local country club, to your advantage you flirted and used your beauty to get what you want, though with this certain woman your own way can't seem to work.

Warning: This work contains smut and foul language, minors DNI!!

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.───

You pace round and round the living room and Yelena couldn't help but get distracted as you walked past her for the nth time. “God! Can you sit your ass down?” your friend grumbled considering she couldn't enjoy her TV show when you'd be there covering the screen from time to time. “How can I sit my ass down exactly? I pissed off Diana!” you stopped exactly right at the center of the television and the blonde which made her groan out of frustration. “See? Play stupid games and win stupid prizes.” looking at her with your brows furrowed. “I didn't know Wanda was going to be there!” you say and Yelena was honestly enjoying your little meltdown.

“Okay, from what you've told me about Diana when you met her, she's nice, rich, and so pretty that you think she may be a goddess.” Yelena just decided to turn off the television knowing it's useless to even attempt to focus and watch her show. “And she works at Wayne Enterprises, knows our boss Tony Stark… and also knows Wanda and her husband since both companies somehow work together?” you say and she couldn't help but laugh softly. “So you're screwed?” she asked and you decided to pace around, taking a seat next to your friend on the couch. “Yes, I'm screwed. Like, when she saw me and Wanda talking at the party… she wrapped her arm around me and then pulled me close! Like she's mine type of close.” your friend tilted her head at what you're saying. “Okay, that's kind of a stretch.” Yelena says.

“No! It isn't… is it? Am I reading too much into it?” Now, you're doubting what you're trying to say, though you can't help but groan. Your stomach's doing cartwheels, you can't help but imagine that the next time you step foot outside the apartment you'll be shoved in a white van… well, you happened to fuck around with someone who's crazy rich and now you're worried, which is understandable and that's why you're also shitting bricks. “Do you want me to text your redhead girlfriend?” Yelena teased, you instantly looked at her and shook your head. “No! I'd look totally uncool if you did that.” you exclaimed and Belova widened her eyes at what you just said. “Y/N, no one thinks you're cool.” you place a hand on your chest taking offense to what she said. “The one you should be talking about this is Wanda, after all, you two were the ones who fooled around.”

“I’m sure she can do something about it and if you talk to her about it then voilà she helps you, I mean it's pretty obvious that you two aren't going to be a one-time thing.” Yelena added, which reminded you of another thing you can't help but stress about the whole situation. “Everything’s about Wanda, it's Wanda here and Wanda there.” you let out while your friend couldn't help but agree with what you're saying. “I think you like her.” The blonde commented and you let out a sigh. “Nope, no can do, nuh-uh.” you are quick to deny what your friend says and she chuckled as if you're acting like a child. “Nuh-uh? What are you, a five-year-old?” You roll your eyes at her comment once more. “I've slept with many people, Wanda isn't anything special.” you stated yet a hint of doubt went through your head.

“I've hung out with Wanda a couple of times before, she's easy-going, can be mean at times, but she's charming in her ways... easy on the eyes too.” Yelena went to list down some of the redhead's characteristics then she looked at you once more. “The downside is she's married, not just any man but a man who works close to Stark, who also happens to be our boss, Y/N." she reminded you then the queasy feeling came back to your guts once more. “Can you stop reminding me of that? I'm still worrying about what Diana may do and there's me messing around with Wanda.” The blonde reached for her phone and without your idea she just decided to message Maximoff, she's a good friend honestly but she'll burst her eardrums if she listens to you go on and on about your worries, and you can't blame her for that.

This time you're in your bedroom trying to sleep off the uneasiness you're feeling, your face buried against the soft pillow, you were a total mess and this wouldn't have happened if you had taken control of yourself and didn't have a whole make out session with the older woman back at the party. An hour went by and honestly, you were just staring at the ceiling as much as you attempted to stop thinking about a certain redhead, she wouldn't stop running in your mind. You've never been kissed the way she kissed you, how she easily found ways to get you weak in the knees and tremble before her, Wanda knew how to please you when she had you cornered at the sink that night.

You hear a knock on your door, doing your best to get your ass off the bed. You knew this was just Yelena probably needing something from you, fixing the shirt you were wearing, adjusting the volleyball shorts that you have had since high school. The moment you opened the door, and those green eyes instantly met with yours, you couldn't help but be surprised and looked behind the older woman then Yelena was there with a smug smile on her face, mouthing “You’re welcome” rolling your eyes at her then you went to look at the redhead in front of you. “Hi- What are you doing here?” You ask confusingly while the woman before you lets herself in your bedroom. “Yelena told me you're freaking out about Prince and she can't spend another second listening to that.” Wanda explained. “Well, are you really worrying about Prince?” she asked.

Taking a moment before answering, you crossed your arms over your chest and nodded. “She probably noticed at the party, I mean probably caught a glimpse of the mark you left and noticed how we were easily conversing.” At the mention of the hickey the older woman smiled and you looked at her. “I mean it, Wanda.” you muttered then she sat on your bed, biting her lower lip while her eyes somehow landed on your legs then looking into your orbs once again. “What do you want me to do about it?” you sighed at her question and you looked away from her enchanting eyes for a second. “Assure me that your husband and especially Mr. Stark won't find out about us.” you requested.

Wanda ran her fingers through her hair then she collected her thoughts trying to come up with words to tell you. “Alright, come here.” she said, you did hesitate for a moment but you can't help but do what she asked you to do. Her hands went to your waist, gently pulling you towards her, and eventually, you found yourself straddling her lap while you faced her. “You don't have to worry about Jarvis and as for Tony… he's not a problem, he's got far too many on his plate to think about this or us.” Her answer sounded too confident and you didn't like how that easily came from her. “Wanda, you told me before that your husband likes to cause a scene.” you reminded her and she tilted her head staying silent as she wanted to hear what you had to say.

“Sweetheart, Jarvis and I are basically separated at this point.” she scoffed. “I mean, we do live in the same house but it's been years since we've slept on the same bed.” she assured you and slowly, Wanda moved her hand from your waist and went to the small of your back. “What about Diana?” you ask her. “Well, from how I see things with you and Prince… I made her jealous.” she says with a proud smile. “She won't do anything to harm you, you're too precious for her to even lay a finger on.” The redhead noticed that you weren't 100% on board with her yet and she thought maybe you were really worried. “Y/N, I promise you, no one's going to harm you, I won't let them.” she whispered, this time you moved your arms around her shoulders and the both of you knew what you both wanted.

“This little affair will be our secret, alright? Yelena, Natasha, and Carol are the ones who know about it, and probably that bartender guy you're friends with.” The older woman assured you once again, though the moment she was about to lean in for a kiss you pulled back. “Why stay with Jarvis, though?” you asked all of a sudden and you got off her lap knowing how distracted she was with you, so you sat on the chair by your work desk so she could tell her story straight. “It’s a long story, malysh, I don't see it relevant on why he should be brought up.” she said and you can't help but raise a brow. “I think he's perfectly relevant, I mean am I your little experiment if you like girls, you need someone to play with to pass time, or he cheated and you're trying to get back at him.” you rambled through the different scenarios and Wanda shook her head. “None of those, and I guess we're really talking about it.” Wanda says with a sigh.

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The redhead got comfortable on your bed while you went on to get some snacks and drinks for the both of you in the kitchen, after all, she did say it's going to be a long story. “I met Jarvis when we were in college, we shared this class and he was good when we met, he's a level-headed guy, he was kind of a nerd and I thought he's kind of charming for that.” She went on to tell details of how much she thought that her husband was such a good man and while she did you were pouring some red wine in your glasses since that's the only drink you currently have at home. “Then, we went on a couple of dates, and did the deed a couple of times until I got knocked up.” Wanda casually says then you widen your eyes not expecting that at all, then you take a sip from your glass just as you listen to her talk.

You loved how her accent would slip now and then, how she fiddled with her finger while she went to tell you the story of her and Jarvis. “Oh and even way before I met him, he has been under Stark's wing… Where was I?” “You got knocked up.” you answered her. “Right, I got knocked up and of course, he told Stark about it and he's told that he should take full responsibility, eventually we got married during my pregnancy.” Wanda took a moment then she went to take a sip from her wine then biting her lower lip. “Unfortunately, he started acting so differently, he has become hot-headed, he has been going out to more parties and all that, not to mention he's a drunk, add to the fact that we're graduating so pressure's through the roof.” she added. “I had a miscarriage with all the stress and… when he found out about it, he didn't care about the unborn child, all he cared about was that he got the hot girl.” the news sure did shock you, which made you finish the glass and you went to fill up your drink once again.

“I’m so sorry for what happened.” You softly spoke and this time you sat next to her on your bed, then she smiled sweetly at you. “It's been years since that happened, I've moved on and eventually, I've also moved from Jarvis.” she said. “Why are you guys still together though?” Your question caught Wanda off-guard, well, she did think that all questions about her husband’s over but it seems like she’s mighty wrong. “You really are going to push this as far as you can go, don’t you?” Wanda chuckled, then she lifted her glass of wine to her lips, looking at you for a second before deciding to take a small sip. “I’m only staying so he could keep his image squeaky clean.” it was a short answer and you knew better than to push the topic even further.

“Is the interrogating done, sweetheart?” The redhead asked as she finished her drink, asking for a fill when she handed her glass towards you. “Yeah- I was just expecting the whole cheating husband schtick and not even an ounce of what you said.” you honestly spoke as you poured her another glass of wine. “Is that all that you need from me though?” she questioned you once more, only moving her hand when you handed her back her drink. “Well, it’s just that I’ve never had someone catch me fooling around and didn’t know that it’d feel something like that–” “Something like what, malysh?” Wanda moved herself closer to you, faces only an inch apart from one another, your eyes were looking at her alluring ones. “I wasn’t expecting it to be so thrilling yet nerve-wracking.” you say as if you’re under her spell once again.

“I think you and I know that this isn’t going to be something that’ll only happen once.” Wanda whispered. “I think I’d have to agree with you.” you replied, finally, the older woman took your drink and placed it on your side table next to hers. You feel her soft hand palming your cheek, the redhead admiring you and looking at you as something… better yet someone she could treasure. The redhead caressed your skin for a moment with her thumb, it is something so simple and so innocent, you didn’t know whether it’s the wine acting up or it’s just Wanda who’s making you feel hotter, you scooted closer towards her and as you flutter your eyes close you caught a glimpse of her smiling when leaned into her. Wanda made the first move… She gently pressed her lips against yours, this time it’s much more gentle compared to how the both of you were the last time, you took your time matching her rhythm, taking a moment to get a good feel of her soft pair on yours. The two of you were picking up the pace steadily, she wasn’t rushing and honestly, you liked that she lingered at this pace.

“Wanda…” you whispered, yet you only received a soft “Hmm?” from the latter and after that it was just more kissing “The walls are thin here.” you purred against her lips. “Then I think we should be quiet, sweetheart.” the redhead cooed, with that being said the both of you went back to your makeout session. You were so used to taking the lead and now that someone’s taking that responsibility for you… you can’t help but fall right into her hands, allow yourself to be taken care of. Wanda shifted her hand from your cheek and located it back to your waist once again, her free hand moving towards the side of your thigh, grasping on it so she could usher you to move your legs and lay on your bed. Doing what she wishes for you to do, the redhead took off her office blazer, revealing the spaghetti strapped tank top before you, god, she was such a sight to look at. “You know I’m assuming that you like what you see.” Wanda chuckled softly and you can’t help but grow a smile due to what she said. “I do actually… I like what I see.” you replied.

She placed a finger below your chin making you look up to her, somehow a move this simple was enough for you to pool your underwear, as you gaze upon her emerald orbs you can’t help but see it so darkened with lust. Wanda went ahead to move her hands at the hem of your shirt, she did want you to see her taking your clothes off, so that it’ll be only her stuck in your mind, making sure that it’s her and her alone. You assisted her in taking your top off as you sat up and did the same for her, you easily discarded her tank top and you proceeded to put your hand on her back so you could take her bra off. Watching the strap fall over her shoulder, biting your lower lip as you admired her naked top right before you, the older woman knew that you liked this view even more, she took both your hands and guided them to her bare breasts, allowing you to massage them so gently, the way you held and fondled her was enough to make her grow sensitive to your touch.

While you're occupied with her breasts, she took the moment to take off your as well, her lips were instantly painted with a smirk when she saw that the mark she left was still there. “I see that you've kept it.” she teased, though the moment you felt both her hands on your tits, you knew it's her turn and she'll take such good care of you, letting go of her breasts the older woman gently pushed you to lay back on your bed once more. You know how to please women and that you're confident with, you've had dozens of one night stands hitting you up so you'd do them for a second time and that's how good you are, somehow when it comes to this woman on top you… you're the one who's craving, wanting for a second night, desperate for her touch.

Wanda knew her way around you, maybe it's just the fact that you're easily pleased when she's the one doing you, as you lay underneath her you can't help but place a hand over your lips, letting out muffled groans as the redhead wrapped her mouth on your sensitive nipples, her tongue swirling against your nub and you can't help but feel your own wetness soaking your panties. The older woman made sure both your breasts got the equal attention from her mouth, she'd suck on them to her own contentment and she loved the fact how you couldn't keep your eyes on her, more so that your eyes kept on fluttering close all because of the pleasure she's giving you.

Eventually, her lips moved downwards leaving a trail of her kisses from your breasts and heading to your stomach, her hands found its way on the waistband of your shorts. “Do you want me to continue, Y/N?” the way your name slip from her lips sounded way too good, this woman is heaven sent. “Yes, please– please do continue.” you whimpered when she'd tease you with kisses on your lower abdomen. Wanda took your shorts off along with your underwear, she finally saw how much of a wet mess you are underneath your clothing. You somehow got shy with the fact that you're so desperate for her and Wanda got a feel that you did feel embarrassed about it, she smiled at you. “Oh, malyshka, this really is long due isn't it? I probably made you wait too long.” she purred when she moved herself so she'd face you once again.

“I’ll make sure to give you such a good time that none of your women could ever match with.” Wanda whispered, her lips lightly brushing against yours as she spoke. You felt the tip of her fingers feeling your skin, she gently ran her fingertips from your lower abdomen, heading down to your thighs, and her hand rested on your inner thigh. The redhead kissed you once again, her tongue swiped against your lower lip and you slightly moved your lips so she could gain more access. You could feel her hand against your private and it's more than enough to send shivers through your body, the older woman went on to move her tongue along with yours though just as she took over, you felt her finger slide in between your folds.

You softly moaned against her mouth, her finger moved painfully slow against your clit, knowing to herself that she's teasing you, she can't help but smirk seeing how frustrated you were getting that you were moving your hips just so you'd be able to feel more of her touch. “Wanda, please… just fuck me.” your words were honest considering the fact that it really is what you want. “Hmm, I need to hear it one more time and I think I want you to nicely ask for it.” her finger kept still considering you were shifting your hips against her digit, you weren't one to beg but with how desperate you're getting you didn't want to protest against hers anymore. “Wanda, can you please fuck me?” never in your life you thought once that you're the one asking to be fucked but here you are.

“Your wish is my command, malyshka.” her thick accent came on once again, Wanda took her finger off from your pussy for a moment and placed it against your lips. “Lick and suck it good, sweetheart.” she tells you, making sure that you obey her, you kept your eyes on her as you licked the base of her finger, your tongue moves to the very top of it. The older woman felt herself get soaked as she watched you move your wet muscle against her digit, before you'd take her finger into your mouth she added her ring finger along with her middle.

Wanda watched how obedient you are as you took both her fingers in your mouth, she felt how you're sucking on them and just as she knew that they were lubricated enough with your saliva, she gently took them off your mouth. The older woman rubbed her fingers on your clit in a circular motion, just the right pace to keep it stimulated but not enough to get you close to your orgasm. The moment she moved her finger at your entrance, you bit your lower lip trying to muffle whatever sound that may come out of you the moment she pushed her fingers into you. You gasp at the feeling and the redhead pressed a kiss on top of your head, she can't help but groan softly when she feels how wet and warm you are inside.

The redhead started to pump her fingers in and out of your pussy, you couldn't get a single word out of your mouth other than the sinful moans that you were holding back considering you didn't really want to traumatize your best friend next door. Wanda was thrusting her digits knuckle deep into your hole, you loved how you're a wet mess for this woman before you, she was taking such good care of you and took mental notes of where you are most sensitive, used it to you advantage so she could take you closer to your orgasm. “You’re taking me in so good, malyshka.” she purred and as much as you wanted to respond to her, she only got your moan as her feedback and it was more than enough for her.

Picking up her pace, Wanda went to thrust her fingers into you much faster and rougher than it is earlier, this time your legs were involuntarily shaking with pleasure, your toes curled up with how much she's making you feel good. Your mind was clouded with lustful thoughts and all of it contained Wanda, you thought about more ways she can fuck you, your mind went over to different ways she can do you and you wouldn't even mind being her own bitch. “Fuck, just do me like that please…” you begged Wanda when she finally got you where you're most sensitive. “Say my name, I want you to moan my name, malyshka.” she growled. “Please, Wanda, I'm so close… please fuck.” you cried out at this point, string of curses left your lips along with the older woman's name being moaned at as well.

The moment Wanda felt how you tightened around her finger, she knew you're about to hit your orgasm, the redhead pressed a kiss on your lips so she could at least help you muffle your moans during your orgasm. The redhead had let you take your time to ride off your high, just as your lips parted with hers you took a moment to catch your breath and the latter moved beside you, moving her arm under your head so you'd rest it there instead of the pillow, when your eyes met with hers, she looked at you with her kind smile once again. “And you're not even out of all your clothes.” You say when it sunk in to you that she still has her pants on. “What can I do? I've got a girl who needs to be taken care of.” she teased you before leaning in to peck on your lips. “Why don't I take it off for you?” You offered and the redhead nodded her head, after all… she knew how much you craved for her.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ᗢ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

You lay on your bed naked and beside you was Wanda who's currently in a phone call, it did sound important though you're wishing that she'd stay a little longer on this bed with you. You two had multiple amazing rounds of sex and it did tire you both, and not because you have favoritism or something but this could be the best sex you've ever had. The redhead had set her phone down and had looked at you as well when she noticed that you were staring. “You've got to go, don't you?” you ask her, the latter nodded her head and you can't help but let out a sigh. “You know that there will be a next time, Y/N.” Wanda softly spoke as she sat up.

She got up to use your bathroom and you decided to get up and tidy up the room once again, picking up the clothes on the floor and you went on to neatly fold her clothes at the bed, you put on your shirt once again and it's enough to cover your privates. A couple of moments later, Wanda went back in the room, probably took a quick shower and she went to press a kiss on your cheek when she noticed that you arranged her clothes. “Maybe you'll see me again tomorrow, Carol’s been asking us to play golf with her for the past couple of days and we happen to have a clear schedule.” she said. “By seeing you, you mean me being your waitress.” you replied and while she puts on her clothes, she tilted her head at your answer.

“Let me know when is your next off, maybe I can match my schedule with yours, let me at least take you out.” She offered and you bite your lower lip. “Sure, just friends though?” you ask and she can't help but chuckle softly. “Friends? Is that what we are?” she purred. “Mhmm, of course that's what we are, friends who happen to have such hot sex.” she teasingly says and you softly laugh. “I make sure not to disappoint.” While you two went on to chat while Wanda’s getting ready, you went ahead to wear your shorts and it didn't take long for the redhead to finish.

“We both know that if we want something serious it's not going to start now, sweetheart. Plus, as I said before I want you all for myself.” she honestly spoke. “And as for you, I know well that you wouldn't want to share me with anybody.” she confidently said and she pressed a quick kiss on your lips once more. “It’s like you read my mind.” you say and she winks at you. “I’ve got to go, okay? I'll see you around.” she says and you went to walk her towards the driveway outside the apartment, the two of you didn't see Yelena so you figured she must've went for a walk with Fanny. Wanda bids her goodbye and you can't help but instantly think about your next time with her, until it hits you.

Maybe you really are now hoping for something serious with that woman.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.───

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