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targaryenrealnessdarling · 7 months

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A Perfect Score - Chapter 10 - A Song of Ice and Fire | FigureSkating!AU

Summary: The moment has arrived for you and Aemond to prove yourselves against the Martells. You can only hope you've done enough to earn your place | Word Count: 7.7k~ | Warnings under the cut~

Series Masterlist | Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

Warnings: teasing, hair pulling, mile high club (oop), voyeurism, degradation, daddy kink, oral (m receiving), ass slapping, orgasm denial, threatening behaviour, mentions of a broken family, mentions of chronic pain, blood, slight angst, injury in relation to chronic condition, trigeminal neuralgia, hospitals

A/N: I can't believe this is the LAST CHAPTER FUCK 😭😭😭 i love these two sm, would die for them 🥰 I really hope you guys enjoyed this series, it was so fun to write! If you're lucky there might even be an Epilogue 😉

Sunspear.

That’s where the finals would be.

Cocky fuckers. Thinking that they had the win, by having it on Martell turf.

At this point, the prospect of winning was low on the priority list. The top spot had been somewhat taken over, by carrying out the plan you had in store, which Aemond was increasingly becoming more and more suspicious of.

You and Helaena would play dumb whenever he walked past her room, hiding whatever you were doing. As much as Helaena prefaced that what you had planned was a terrible idea, she’d grinned and told you to do it anyway.

She’d even given her opinion when you modelled it.

“Perfect” she said with a proud smile, leaning back in her chair.

You’d packed the suitcase well enough that Aemond wouldn’t see it even if he opened it by accident.

When it was time to load up the car for the flight to Sunspear, staying in a hotel overnight before the finals tomorrow, there was a finality to it that widened the pit in your chest. Helaena had barely had you out of her arms, intent on hugging every last bit out of you so that she could savour the feeling.

“We’ll all be watching the match tomorrow” she smiled, “try not to get into too much trouble before then”

As much as you’re happy that she and her family will be there, as your manager, he will too.

Aemond had pre-warned you about that.

But to be honest, you were expecting it.

“You know me, can’t keep out of it it seems” you smile back at her, hand slipping out of hers as you move onto Alicent, who stands straight, pink lips pressed together, like one touch and she’ll just crumble into tears.

Alicent nods, picking at the top of her turtleneck, “It was so nice to have you here, sweet girl. You are welcome back whenever you like” she manages, her voice wavering with emotion.

Smiling gratefully, nothing else need be said when Alicent opens her arms to pull you into a hug, as if you were her own. She smells like expensive perfume, probably YLS, as you’d often seen the bottle poking out of her bag. At first, when you met, you found the scent overpowering, and somewhat tart. But now, as the perfume enveloped you in a warm, motherly hug, it was entirely comforting. And your heart strained in your chest, knowing that it may be a while before you get to come back.

Your face pulls into a smile as Alicent then moves onto her son, bringing a comically tall Aemond in comparison into a warm embrace. No person is more surprised than you when Aegon walks over, trying to hide how nice he’s being with humour.

“Come in. Bring it in then”

You laugh through your nose, giving him a quick hug.

“Alright, that’s enough”

You shrug, smirking, “Fine, you smell anyway”

“Ouch, I’m so fucking wounded”

You pick up your bag, slinging it over your shoulder.

“I’ll be watching as well. Can’t wait to see what happens” Aegon winks.

You turn awake, feigning ignorance, “Dunno what you mean”

You fought the urge to tear up as you looked in the mirror, watching the three of them wave you away. With lips pressed together to force a smile to your face, strained with emotion, you spare them a wave back, bidding the large Targaryen House goodbye.

Once past the security gates a deep exhale exits your lungs, and Aemond’s hand wraps around your knee, stealing your attention.

You smile at him, giving a soft nod, “I’m alright”

Aemond laughs through his nose, “You’re acting like you’ll never go back” he chuckles, “I know Mum would be very offended if you didn’t”

Smiling, you know it’s probably true. That they would like you back as often as possible, no matter the outcome of the finals.

Aemond scrolls through his phone, biting the inside of his cheek, “Applications are closing soon” he muses, almost so quietly you don’t hear him unless you’re leaning close.

“For what?”

He clicks his phone off, shoving it into his sweatpants pocket, “For the new academic year” he replied anxiously.

“Philosophy and History right?” you smile, putting your hand on his to calm him, “You’ll love it, Aemond”

“I know, it’s just-” he adds, “I don’t know if I’ll be good at the whole academic side of it. It’s one thing to be interested-”

“You’ll do great because you’re interested in it” you smile, “besides there’ll be plenty of workshops on essay writing and such”

He sighs, like the idea of doing all of that is just so overwhelming right now. Not knowing what to expect, has his whole body tense.

“Finals first. Then I’ll apply” he states, turning to flash you a small, Aemond-smile. One you return with warmth.

“I’ll help you with your Personal Statement”

He laughs, “Then I’ll never get in” he jokes, making you swat his arm playfully.

It was a couple of hours on a plane to Sunspear, and with the assistance of the private jet supplied by Hightower Management, it was a simple process. The car even pulled up right next to it, allowing you both to largely avoid the media who stood behind the chain-link fence, trying to get a word or a photo from the mysterious couple.

You’d barely looked at the news. But every now and then, a notification would inevitably pop up on your phone, about your outburst and subsequent removal from the Targaryen House. Frustration boiled in your veins.

That wasn’t true.

But then again, not a lot they wrote about was true.

It happened so often, each time affected you less and less, and the quicker it was to push that aside.

An ‘unnamed insider’ had also offered their opinion.

‘There was an altercation with the Chairman of Hightower Management, in what I understand was a lapse of morals’.

You had laughed when you read it.

And so did Aemond.

Alys Rivers.

Still trying to dig her claws in, desperate for even a slither of that limelight. Of Aemond’s attention.

She wouldn’t fucking get it. No fucking way.

Aemond had joked that you’d beat her in a fist fight if need be. And you didn’t doubt it. In fact, the mental image somewhat amused you.

You looked up from your phone, the hum of the incessant jet engine vibrated through the seats. Arryk was fast asleep in the front of the jet, slumped back in his seat, with his hands clasped on his chest. His suit, inevitably crumpled with the awkward sleeping position he found himself in.

Aemond was seated next to you, earphones in, leaning back to only appear as if he were dozing.

You bite your lip, looking back down the aisle and then to Aemond.

He cracks open his eye as you stand up from your seat, a suspicious look rakes over you as you pull the jumper you were wearing over your head and huffing it onto the seat.

“Where are you going?” he asks gruffly, to which the only thing you can do is smile, seeing the way his gaze absorbs the image of what you’re wearing stuck tight to your skin.

Knowing he fucking hates it.

Hates it.

You roll your eyes.

“The toilet?” you reply sarcastically.

Gods, you know you’re pushing your luck but you just can’t help it.

You can practically feel the irritation radiating off Aemond. His lips part to say something but you’re gone with a smirk on your face before he can say anything. His harsh, determined gaze bores into the back of your head, burning a bright hole through it. You sway your hips as you walk down the aisle to the bathroom, closing the door, but not locking it.

10 seconds.

That’s how long you give it.

You pretend to wash your hands, looking in the mirror and smoothing your palms over the ponytail that sits semi-loosely at the back of your head.

5, 4, 3…

The door opens quickly and with a click it’s shut again, but this time Aemond slides the lock across. He had to duck to get into the cramped bathroom, and now with two people inside, it feels utterly stifling.

You have to bite back a smile that you’d guessed him so spot on. It hadn’t even been ten seconds. And here he stood, putting on a stoic, blank face, as if he had no intention of doing anything at all.

Your lips part to speak, but your throat is instead met with pressure, his palm flush to it and his fingers around the sides as he pushes you further into the bathroom.

“You want to get fucked?” he suggests in a dark, husky voice, the muscles in his arm tensing and untensing as his control begins to wane, “Hm?”

You can see the way he expects you to respond, but as his fingers press on the sides of your neck, it only serves to make your mind swirl with want, seeing how frustrated he is. Nothing seems to want to come out of your mouth, shock pleasantly blocking your throat.

“Think I didn’t see that? The way you rolled your eyes? Acting like a little slut?”

You swallow under his hand, his words sending a bolt of arousal straight between your legs, throbbing with desire. The way your cheeks burn makes it clear to him what you really want, coupled with the tremble that has now managed to worm its way up your legs.

In a smooth moment, your thighs hit the counter in front of the mirror, his arm now reaching widely around you to hold your head up to see his expression in the mirror. You shiver at the sensation of his hair on your skin, his nose dragging up the side of your neck, his breath eventually hot on the shell of your ear.

“You just want it, don’t you?” he grunts, pressing his now noticeable erection against your backside, his hips moving torturously slow, as if to make you wait, to tease you.

Pride rings in your body at the way he’s just so easily fallen apart the way you predicted.

“No” you tease, biting back a smile which he sees in the mirror.

His mouth drawn tightly into a line, not revealing at all what he’s thinking.

Aemond’s large hands go to your leggings, tearing them down harshly like he can’t get a good grip on them. The speed, the sheer neediness of the gesture, has arousal pooling where you need him most and your skin prickling with desire.

“We’ll see about that”

You have to spread your hands on the counter to keep yourself up as Aemond tugs your leggings down just enough and bends you over, exposing you just enough that the cool air against your core makes you shiver.

“No” he gruffs, wrapping your hair around his knuckles and tugging back to make you look in the mirror at him, “You’re going to watch”

You barely have time to think about his threat before you feel the fat head of his cock kiss your folds, pushing forward, Aemond moans breathily as he looks down to watch you take the entirety of him, squeezing his length tightly.

It feels like the air is being constantly pushed from your lungs, he doesn’t even give a moment of reprieve, one hand tugging your hair and the other kneading the fleshy globe of your ass to spread you open for him to see. His cock pistons so quickly and with such a lewd sound that for a moment, it makes you embarrassed that Arryk might actually hear from the front of the plane.

“Keep your eyes open, princess” she breathes, leaning over your neck and giving a harsh tug to remind you. You whimper as his teeth graze over your skin, combined with the way he bullies that sensitive spot inside you in this position, it all feels very too much.

“Just my little fucktoy aren’t you, hm?” he grunts against your ear. And without even thinking you nod quickly, not trusting yourself to speak, your eyes dragging down to watch the ceaseless rocking of his hips slapping against you.

He delivers a hard slap to your ass, “Say it”.

“ - yes, I am - I am -”

Aemond groans, burying himself as deep as he can inside you with each devastating thrust, “Yeah, that’s right -”

You gasp loudly, eyes slipping shut as his hand makes his way to your front, his thumb drawing harsh circles against your clit. It’s more pressure than you anticipated to such a sensitive area, and it has your body pushing back to meet his, desperate.

“ - fuck, Aemond -”

“ - not my name, princess-”

Just when you’re about to lose it, he ceases his movements to your clit and slows his pace dramatically and he chuckles darkly when you whine with annoyance.

“If you want to cum, I want to hear it-”

You can’t help but feel irritated. You are so, so close. It’s unfair.

“Come on, you can do it, baby-”

With a strained, annoyed tone, “-fuck, daddy please - I’m so close-”

You feel him grin against your neck, “better”

Nothing feels more overwhelming than when he picks up the pace again, blood feeling as if it’s on fire as it hums around your body, right to your little bundle of nerves that Aemond hasn’t left alone.

“-that’s it, cum around my cock, princess-”

And you do.

Hard.

So much so that Aemond has to put his hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. Especially when his pace never falters, and he fucks you through your orgasm with the same vigour. Aemond moans as your walls flutter around him, squeezing his length tightly.

He pulls out, fisting his length quickly in his fist, a shuddered groan falling from his glorious lips as his warm cum coats your bare pussy. It’s near-pornographic, the way it feels to be covered by him, and even more so when he smears his cum over your slit with the head of his cock.

You smile tiredly, seeing that this little act is something that Aemond enjoys doing often.

Perhaps it's his way of reminding you you're his.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect-” he praises, “-baby you’ve made such a mess- come on, be a good girl-”

You’re near breathless as he pushes you to your knees in front of him, covering your lips with the cum that glazes his cock before plunging into your mouth. You let your jaw relax as Aemond makes the slow, lazy pace, using your mouth to clean the aftermath off his length.

You moan around him, the taste of him salty and heavy on your tongue.

“That’s it - you like me using your mouth, don’t you-”

You make a noise of confirmation as he continues to use you, making his head tip back at the vibrations stimulating his oversensitive cock.

He pulls you off by your hair, looking down at you reverently, using his thumb to swipe whatever was left on your lips back into your mouth.

As your eyes meet, both of you light up in a smile.

"Seven fucking Hells, what am I going to do with you" he smiles lovingly.

The Dornish heat was nothing compared to that little bathroom.

The air was crisp as you exited the plane, a dull, but satisfied ache between your thighs. In fact, Arryk had looked at you both with some level of barely-contained suspicion when you came out the bathroom on the flight, and you’d flushed bright red when he asked if you were alright, and swatted Aemond when he made no attempt to hide his smugness and laughed out loud.

The hotel was lavish, and entirely different in style from the hotels you were used to on the tour. The floors were marble, the walls largely made of stone, with bright and vibrant colours decorating the tall ceilings and walls.

Even people’s fashion was different. Flowy fabrics of silk and light linens, probably due to the intense heat, which was already making it difficult to concentrate.

You gave Aemond a look when the receptionist gave you one key.

As if being in on an inside joke of sorts.

The last time you were forced to share one room, it was a very different circumstance.

The room was spacious and utterly luxurious, but you’d expect nothing less from the Martells.

The bed was enclosed with panels of delicate details surrounding it, along with silks of various vibrancies to lift it. The floor was marble, and a nice cooling sensation in comparison to the stifling air.

And as Aemond snaked his arms around your waist as you looked out onto the balcony at the lavish gardens, leaning down to bite at your neck softly, your eyes slipped shut.

“Aemond the finals are tomorrow, we have to practi-”

“And I intend to” he whispered back, kissing higher and higher on your neck, while one of his hands sank lower and lower, til they were beneath the waistband of your leggings.

“It’s still early, Princess” he mused.

You had both christened the bed that afternoon, and later on, any available flat surface Aemond could find, he would do things that would make even Aegon blush.

Unlike the other hotels, there was only one ice rink in Sunspear, and it would be the one you’d be using tomorrow to compete against the Martells. It was a bit annoying having to book in a spot to go over the routine, and you and Aemond had already practised beyond measure, but it was still nice to get a few more sessions in before the big day.

Surprisingly, you felt okay, and Aemond was the nervous one. Even though realistically, there was little outcome for Aemond, whether you won or not.

You sigh, the cool air of the rink hitting your skin, “At least it’s nice and cool in here”

Huffing your bag onto the floor, you look behind at him when he doesn’t reply.

Aemond, with a stoic expression, only gestured with his head in the direction of the stands.

Larys Strong sits there, his cane in hand.

His head is angled down, so that he’s looking over the bridge of his brow, his darkened eyes flitting between you and Aemond from where he’s seated in the middle of the rows of seats, which tomorrow, would be filled with people.

Immediately, irritation gnaws at your insides. And the only saving grace is Aemond’s careful hand on your arm, grounding you.

You make no effort to go to him.

He will come to you if he wants to speak.

It almost pleases you that it takes him so long to stand and step down to the ice rink, so that it gives you more time to think of what to say. You go to move away to speak to him, but Aemond’s fingers tighten, holding you close to him.

He wanted to stay with you.

“Aemond” Larys greeted first, leaning on his cane as he stopped before you both, smirking as he searched both of your faces.

Aemond didn’t respond.

“What do you want?” you ask, getting swiftly to the point, as you knew he wouldn’t.

Larys bowed his head, as if briefly embarrassed and wondering what to say, his slick wavy brown hair not moving around his shoulders.

“I am here for the finals-”

“That’s not what I asked” you added quickly, “to the point, please”

You didn’t see the barely-contained smirk that Aemond was struggling to keep at bay behind you. It turned out, he rather liked to see you angry.

Larys floundered noticeably.

“You had seen my emails?”

“I had”

Larys raised an eyebrow, “and it was insufficient?”

Biting your lip, you couldn’t hide your contempt, “You expected me to go to the press?”

“I thought that was the plan”

“There was no plan. Nor an exchange of terms between you and I. I sought your help because I thought you had information on my employment, and you did. There is nothing more to say”

He goes quiet for a moment, before lifting his signature smirk to his face.

“I see the Ice Princess has some fire in her”

Aemond’s grip tightens, as if he’s ready to explode at any moment.

“I do hope Floris is alright” he muses, taking a short step forward, “it’d be a shame for such a capable skater to retire so soon into her career”

Your eyebrows furrow.

Was that a fucking threat?

Larys smirks slightly, appearing to have hit the nerve he was after.

"Good luck with the finals"

"Watch it" Aemond responds, keeping a firm grip on your arm. Now because he's afraid you might actually hurt him.

Larys laughs through his nose.

Fuck you.

You and Aemond watch with bated breath as Larys leaves slowly, the clang of the double doors rattling behind him.

Aemond let's out a breath.

"Should I be watching where I put my skates now?" You ask him, half joking. But it earns a breathy laugh nonetheless.

"You say that. Maybe you should"

Practice goes as expected.

The routine is intricate, perhaps the most technical so far, but in a nice way. Working with Aemond now, when everything had been addressed was nice.

Gods it was so nice.

It almost made you sad that he wanted to retire after the finals.

He was so graceful. For such a tall guy, lined with lean muscle, he had such elegance on the ice. Wasn't afraid to show off, which the judges would no doubt love.

The song?

Swan Lake. The Ending Song.

A bold choice of Otto's.

Was that a threat too? Perhaps?

It didn't bother you too much, as you'd found a perfect place within the song to do what you had planned for weeks.

And gods, it'd all be worth it to see his face.

It was all very surreal.

A flurry of texts crowded your screen on the morning of the finals.

Rhaenys.

Baela. Rhaena.

Floris.

El.

Even some of your family.

Estranged family.

You're certain you blocked their number.

You sigh, pulling the towel around yourself and walking out of the open wet room. Aemond is laid flat on his back on the bed, a damp cold cloth applied to the marred eye.

If you didn't know any better, he looked asleep.

"Still bothering you?" You ask.

He just makes a noise of confirmation. His eye not moving.

You rub his arm lovingly as you sit next to him.

His eye had been bothering him all night, so much so that embarrassingly (his words) he'd had to remove the glass eye he wore and slept without it to alleviate the pain.

He'd looked so vulnerable when he showed you.

As if you'd run away when you saw it.

But instead, your heart leapt. You were more lovey than usual after a little drink at the bar with Aemond after practice, and you'd pressed your lips to his scarred cheek. Lingering.

Little did you know, that his heart leapt as well.

And when you slept, moulded in each other's arms.

It felt like it was always meant to be this way.

It changed something.

"Do you want some painkillers?" You ask softly,

"I'm alright, just took some…waiting for them to kick in"

Patting his arm, you give him a reassuring smile, though he can't see it.

Making sure he's not looking, you sneak the outfit out of your suitcase and into your bag for later. Biting your lip, you try hard to contain the excitement in your veins. And nerves as well.

For a lot of things.

Ping!

You laugh through your nose.

Scrolling, you check the other messages you have.

You laugh at that too.

Gods she's such a boomer. It's kind of painful.

You shoot her a quick text back, clearing the texts from your family without replying.

Not like they deserve it anyway.

Everytime you see a text from them now, it only reminds you of why Otto hired you.

Bad circumstances.

Someone of low background.

Ugh fuck him.

Fuck. Him.

With a barge pole if needed.

Aemond huffs as he gets up, squinting and looking over at you, "ready to dance with the vipers?"

"Oh more than ready" you smile at him.

You're thankful you have your own dressing room at least. To get everything right without Aemond's curious eye constantly looking at you.

No time for quickies this time round.

You look at yourself in the mirror, hair all done into a ponytail with curls falling from it. Decorated with glitter hairspray and little pearls. Your outfit is black, as Otto had said it would be in his email. The corset is almost velvet like, with a slight v at the top (which made it difficult to initiate your plan, but you managed). And the mesh skirt over the leotard sways like a cloud over your legs.

You steel yourself.

You can do this.

When you go out to the hallway, looking down to the ice rink, where the stands are entirely full with the echoed chatter of the audience, your skin immediately prickles with nerves.

You feel Aemond's hand on the small of your back, making heat crawl up your neck.

"Feeling okay?" He asks in an uncharacteristically soft voice.

You don't think you'll ever get over the feeling you get when you see him with his sapphire eye.

It literally takes your breath away.

But his scar looks reddened somewhat.

You furrow your brows, "Are you?" You ask, concerned, "your eye. It looks sor-"

"I'm fine" he says quickly.

I don't believe that.

You can see the way he's trying to be brave about it. His jaw tight and his good eye looking anywhere but you, as if he knows he'll be found out.

"Aemond we don't have to. If you're in pain-"

"No. I want to do this for you" he urges.

For you.

You swear for a moment your heart skips a beat, stilling in your chest as the rest of you gets warm.

Aemond can never be forced.

He's stubborn like that.

A Targaryen trait, you muse.

But you know deep down, he won't heed your warning. He's headstrong. Completely sure of his own opinion, rightly or wrongly.

There's something about it now though, which doesn't feel right.

"I'm alright, princess. Promise" he adds, taking one of your hands in his while he takes in your outfit.

"You look nice" he says, forcing a smile to his face. His hand goes over your sleeves to the clips at the top. He plays with them briefly, as if wondering what they are before you playfully slap his hand away.

"Off"

He gives you a look.

A suspicious one.

He knows you're up to something.

Then he smiles.

Again a forced one, but stubbornness will kill him first.

As you both walk towards the ice rink, journalists, media, the judges, the faces of the audience as well as the Martells all serve to wake your nerves.

You wave at Rhaenys in the crowd, Baela and Rhaena seated either side of her.

"There they are, the Ice Prince and Princess. Ready for the finals in their all black get up"

"They appear to be closer this time, speaking in hushed voices- oh! Was that a kiss I saw?"

"It was! Perhaps there is more to this mere partnership than meets the eye"

Aemond whispers to you, "up in the stands, to the right"

When you follow his eyeline, your face drops and you turn to avoid the cameras from getting a good look at your expression.

Otto Hightower sits there.

Alone.

Good.

He's looking down at you both, chin high but his gaze looking over his nose like you're shit at the bottom of his shoe. His hands are clasped in expectancy, clearly desiring a favourable outcome to the performance.

But at least now you know where he is, so you can see the look on his face.

The thought of it has an evil smirk rise to your face.

"Are we going first?" You ask.

Aemond nods.

Fuck. You hate going first.

And as if by magic-

"Aemond fucking Targaryen. The One-Eyed wonder!"

Qoren's voice has a tendency to travel. And right now, it's travelling through every nerve in you, jolting them awake. He walks over with a swagger, a slowness, clad entirely in bright mustard and wine tones, akin to his partner who is sat on the bench scrolling through her phone.

Aemond sighs, "Qoren" he greets flatly, rubbing his thumb against his temple on the marred side of his face.

"Just wanted to say good luck" Qoren smirks, nudging a curled wave out his face, "I'm certain you won't need it"

Cunt.

That's what you want to say.

Instead, you roll your eyes and take Aemond's hand leading him to the ice rink.

"Ignore him" you tell him, pulling of the blade guards and tossing them aside.

Aemond huffs a laugh, "Seven Hells, if he's in your bad books he's done for" he replies, joining you as you both go out onto the ice to do a few laps.

"Our Crownlands couple look ready and composed for a challenge today"

"And a challenge it will be. It's never easy going first, especially against the Martells. They'll have to work for it"

You skate next to him for a few warm-up laps, the heat rising again to your face as he takes your hand, giving his signature one sided smile.

Your heart flutters pleasantly.

In front of all these people?

He sees your reaction.

"I'm not going to hide anything anymore, princess" he says softly, "I've done it for far too long"

One part of you wants to cry with joy.

The other wants to drag him to the nearest dark corner.

So instead, you squeeze his hand. A good compromise.

As you skate to a halt in the middle, you mouth the words.

'I love you'

And your heart roars with delight.

He mouths it back.

"Our couple seem utterly smitten with each other"

"Their chemistry rivals the Martells, for sure!"

Taking a deep breath, you and Aemond nod to each other, getting in position to wait until the music starts.

It's quiet.

You could hear a pin drop.

His hand is warm.

The clarinets begin to play, the opening sequence of violins accompanying the music as you and Aemond begin the medium paced routine. The only sound you both can hear is the blades tearing through the ice, the rustle of your clothing against each other and the shallow breaths between each movement of the routine, moving swiftly hand in hand, twirling and feeling light and airy as Aemond lifts you effortlessly.

The music is almost frantic, the trumpets are getting so loud that they almost vibrate the ice beneath you. But you concentrate on the routine at hand, letting Aemond take your weight with each quick lift into the air, each synchronised motion perfectly executed.

“Quite a quick routine from the couple. Good choice of song and good technical ability so far”

“Yes, they really look like a proper team now, don’t they?”

As the music picks up momentum, you briefly glance at the stands mid-spin, smirking when you spot Otto’s eyes half closed, looking right at you. As if wondering what it is you are thinking.

Drums.

As Aemond moves in front of you for a split second, your hands lift to your shoulders, unpopping the buttons there.

No going back now.

Aemond looks over you in brief shock as the black is completely encompassed, a sheet of dark green falling over it like a curtain, replacing the beaded darkness with the bright forest colour he was so used to seeing his mother wear on her old performances.

It quickly changes to a barely-contained smile as the fabric laps at your thighs, the green mesh replacing the translucent black, right as the music hits its crescendo.

"Oh my-is that what I think it is!"

"Hightower Green looks very good on our Ice Princess!"

You don’t even have time to look at Otto.

The audience is a mix of clapping, awes and shouting of support. Never wavering for a moment.

Aemond continues the routine with a big, boyish smile plastered onto his face, performing the rest of the moves and lifts with a renewed vigour and passion that was not there before.

The rest of it seems to fly by, assisted by the smitten way you look at one another. Before you even know it, the music has died out. You and Aemond face each other, foreheads almost touching as the applause roars around you, several items like flowers and flags being thrown onto the ice around you.

It’s difficult to describe Aemond’s expression. Awe? Affection? Lust?

Love.

All you know is that you love it. And that all this was worth it.

You’re about to open your mouth, when his hands find each side of your face, his fingers holding the back of your head desperately, as he crashes his lips to yours.

In front of everyone.

In front of all of Westeros.

It feels exhilarating. Adrenaline boils the blood inside you, burning for him. And when you part, breathless after not only that, but the energy of the routine, all you can do is smile. Feeling so in love with him it’s honestly disgraceful.

Hand in hand, you bow to the audience, a massive grin plastered on your face. Rhaenys, Baela and Rhaena are all stood, clapping passionately. Larys is seated at the end of a particular row, both hands clasped on his cane, smirking beneath it, as if he just loves watching the drama unfold.

And then Otto.

You’re happy to find he looks absolutely livid.

That's right, you think. This is where my loyalties lie.

Aemond’s grip tightens on you as you give your bow to the judges. But it’s not a tight, comforting hold. Not one of victory, or love.

“Aemond?..” you ask, turning to him.

He’s breathing heavily, his other hand pressed to the scarred side of his face, his good eye blinking quickly as he turns to you.

Your face blanches, “Aemond, what’s wrong-”

“I’m fine, it’s just-ah fuck”

He nearly doubles over in pain, his hand pressed painfully to the left side of his face, the faintest bit of blood trickling between his fingers.

Panic rings through you, and with your hands on his sides, you guide him on the ice towards the edge, helping him sit, ignoring the muffled whispers and rumours that echo around the atrium, “let me see, Aemond..”

He shakes his head erratically, “No, no, just-I’m okay”

“Aemond you are not okay” you urge, watching the way his other eye waters from the pain, his face going pink as he encourages himself to take deep breaths.

“It appears he may have some sort of injury. We’re waiting on some updates from management”

“Who do you need me to call?” you ask him hurriedly,

“I don’t know-fucking-call Mum, please” he replies pitifully, bending over in searing, hot pain that radiates from his eye socket.

Spotting Arryk, you rush over and grab his phone that he throws, pulling it to your ear while rubbing Aemond’s shoulder.

“Aemond, take the sapphire out, it’s just going to hurt you more-”

“No, no, I can’t-” he shakes his head, panicked and scared.

“Aemond”

When his good eye meets you, he looks so vulnerable and unsure you almost regret your tone.

But you just want him to be okay.

Turning away, he dislodges the sapphire, his hand still covering his face, despite having the utmost trust in you, he still doesn’t want you to see it, all red and sore.

“Hello, Alicent? Yeah I think Aemond is having one of his neurological-fuck-I don’t know-episodes? I don’t know what to do?” you speak nervously into the phone.

“I know, I know, sweet girl. He needs to go to Urgent Care right away, and needs his glycerol injections, alright? Where’s my father?”

“I don’t know, I can’t see him!”

“He has Aemond’s health insurance card, okay, find him and get him to hospital as soon as you can. okay? Has he taken the sapphire out?”

“Yes, I made him”

“Good. Until he gets to hospital, just apply a warm compress and keep him calm, okay? You can do this”

You hang up quickly, looking around and spotting Otto as he paves his way through the crowd of people. Still rubbing Aemond’s shoulder, all notions of hating him are gone in favour of helping the quivering, vulnerable man in front of you, whining pitifully as his nerves are set aflame.

“Otto, he needs to go to a hospital. Do you have his health card?”

Stoically, he nods, his eyes ignoring you, “I do, Arryk will take us. Come on”

He assists Aemond to his feet, leading him to the exit with urgency.

The fire doors open and Aemond turns to you, “You have to stay”

“What? No! I’m coming with you!”

“One of us has to stay, we’ll get disqualified” he reasons, with a wavering voice.

“Aemond, I don’t care about-”

“Well I do. Stay” he urges.

You go quiet, staring at him in disbelief and also shock. And seeing it all over your face, how conflicted both of you are, he leans forward pressing a kiss to your forehead, his fingers stroking your hair lovingly.

“I’ll be fine, baby..” he adds softly, “Stay”

You watch him hurry out of the fire escape, and straight into the back of Arryk’s car with Otto. He’s so doubled over in pain, clutching the sapphire in one fist, that he barely has any time to look back at you standing there, the warm air making the mesh skirt lap at your legs.

You only meet his worried gaze at the last second.

A shuddered breath tumbles from your lips, the adrenaline and panic of the last few minutes just sinking in. You feel a bit helpless, unable to do anything for him as he’s driven to hospital.

“Hey” the soothing voice of Rhaenys at your side pulls you out, and you look at her with bleary eyes, “are you alright?”

You nod quickly, “Yeah, I think so..”

She guides you back inside, sitting at the sidelines, “Sit here, I’ll get you a drink”

You can’t relax. The room feels like it’s spinning.

“Just a little update. Aemond Targaryen has been rushed to hospital in what we believe is an episode of acute pain due to a long-standing condition”

“We’ll wish him all the best in hospital and hope it isn’t anything too serious”

Rhaenys gives you a warm cup of coffee, but you can’t drink it, you’re too on edge already. And if any caffeine is pumped into your already hammering heart, you think it might explode.

You don’t even concentrate on the performance the Martells are doing, eyes nowhere near the scoreboard. Your leg bounces nervously, fully aware that you are probably being scrutinised endlessly by the media, with hundreds of articles already written about you.

Their orange and red outfits dance in your periphery. Spins, twists, lifts. Things that right now, don’t mean an awful lot to you. All you can think about is when Aemond turned to you, blood trickling between his fingers, face twisted in pain.

“Hey…”

You don’t even realise you’ve zoned out until Rhaenys taps your arm excitedly.

Shaking your head, you look around, everyone’s stood. Smiling. Clapping. The Martells are lazily skating their way to their end of the rink, talking with their manager, with bowed heads.

“Wha?..” you reply, completely dazed, “what’s happened?..”

“Qoren’s partner fucked her landing. They’re a whole 10 points short on the technical. Not including the penalty they’re likely to get” she replies, leaning closely to whisper it, a victorious smirk on her face.

Oh shit.

Your eyes meet the scoreboard, watching as the rest of the scores come in.

With the penalty, they’re tragically low. But your breath feels hot in your throat still.

This was always the part you hated.

Rhaenys’ ring-clad hand grips yours tightly.

The crowd's cheer, applause and shouts of support are nothing compared to the roaring in your ears.

"We won"

Entirely shocked beyond words and comprehension, Rhaenys pulls you into a hug, jumping up and down excitedly. Your face is blanched with shock, eyes still, and you realise you must look a total idiot to everyone else. The reality of the situation still not entirely dawning on you.

"The Crownlands have done it. The Championship title is theirs!"

"Shame our Ice Prince cannot be there to receive his trophy"

"Go! Go!" Rhaenys urges, pushing you by your shoulders to the stands where the judges are all grinning, holding the trophy, medals and large bouquet of gloriously colourful flowers.

It's a blurred slew of 'well done' and 'congratulations'.

The Martells, though devastated, nod in your direction in congratulations. And you barely hear it, but Qoren even seems to offer some sort of kind words for Aemond's condition.

Still doesn't make him less of a twat.

The trophy, long and golden, is heavy in your hands, rested against your shoulder, with the flowers pushed into your other, shoulders sagging with the weight of two medals around your neck.

Aemond.

With a few quick thank yous and bows of your head, your panicked, searching eyes find Rhaenys, who already has her car keys and your jacket in her grip.

"Come on" she utters, "quickly"

It feels utterly silly to still be wearing the green outfit for the competition while riding in the passenger seat of Rhaenys' Mercedes. But at least your black jacket provides some semblance of normality. You didn't even have time to take the medals off.

You did however, change your shoes, shucking your skates off in the footwell of her car.

She's driving well over the speed limit. But hey, most of Sunspear are as well. Through several junctions, she even graces some of the locals with her middle finger.

If you weren't so taut with nerves, it'd make you laugh.

The tyres screech loudly as she pulls into the hospital car park, the trophy nestled between your legs nearly making you trip over yourself as you hurl yourself out the car door.

Those tell-tale clicks of camera shutters and the echo of incessant questions are instantly upon you.

With the trophy loosely in one hand, all you can do is run to the entrance of the hospital, where the media are not allowed.

This time, they part a path for you.

The security guards at the front who have been fending them off, see your outfit, medals and trophy and immediately slip the door open, "Room 47"

You nod in thanks, your breath feeling like blood in your throat from the effort of running so fast and so suddenly. The lights inside the hospital hallways are stark, clinical, and far too bright. Your trainers thud against the linoleum floor, eyes desperately searching for the numbers on the rooms.

"25...24...shit, I'm going the wrong way-"

Aemond.

It doesn't help in the slightest that the hospital is a complete maze. You probably look a complete mess, pink in the face, hair all mussed up from running, but it's the last thing on your mind.

At the end of the hallway, you spot Otto, chatting with a dark-haired man in a white coat. Engaged in conversation, only looking up when the tide of loud footsteps comes closer to them.

You don't care about that either.

Otto tries to reach out to stop you from going in, but you're too fast, fiddling with the handle of the door before he has a chance to pull you back.

It's quiet. Your hurried breathing sounds so loud in your chest.

The door slams into the wall and Aemond looks up, seated sideways on the hospital bed. His cheeks are pink, from the remnants of pain that still linger, but he looks calmer, relaxed, with his brows unfrowned and sitting comfortably on his forehead. His hair, that was so neatly styled for the competition in his signature bun is somewhat curled from the sweat on his forehead and back of his neck.

A surgical patch is taped over his left eye.

His lips twitch when he sees you there, his right eye gleaming with affection, clearly out of breath, having ran the entire length of the hospital to get to him.

"Hey Princess..." he says softly, in a way that never fails to make your heart lurch into your throat.

You almost cry with relief that he's alright.

He licks his dry lips, "Did we do it?..."

With a relieved smile, a lump forming in your throat with emotion, you nod quickly, "Yeah...yeah we did..."

The breath is expelled from your lungs near-painfully when you surge towards each other, throwing your arms around one another, the trophy propped on the floor where you were previously stood.

He feels warm, with his hands around you like this, his heart thrumming fast in his chest. Your body sags against him.

He feels like home.

You hear him inhale, the familiar scent of you immediately having a calming effect on his body, his hand raising to brush your hair from your face as his palms cup either side of it, pressing a light feather-like kiss to your forehead.

His thumb wipes your undereye of moisture. But his smile says it all, his eyes crinkling, briefly irritating the spot where he's obviously had his glycerol injections not a moment before.

"I never doubted you" he utters quietly, "...not for a second"

You give a watery laugh. Hardly recognising this Aemond compared to the one you first met.

Competitions.

Scores.

Drama.

It all means fucking nothing.

The future. Happiness. It's all right here.

"Aemond Targaryen, don't ever scare me like that again..." you smile at him, half-joking, fingers tenderly stroking along his jawline, prickles of regrowth rubbing comfortingly along your skin.

He huffs a laugh through his nose, his mouth opening slightly as he smiles.

"No promises, princess"

And finally, with a pleased little muffled sound crawling up your throat, his tender, full lips descend onto yours, sealing whatever is felt between you right now and all that has happened before.

It doesn't even need to be said. Those three little words.

Because they're just not enough.

Aemond Taglist (1): @asp3nxx | @avidreader73 | @bellaisasleep | @boofy1998

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aziraphales-library · 21 days

Note

Hello! Thank you all for the amazing work here, this has been such a great spot to come back to as I’ve gotten into this fandom recently :)

I’m wondering if you could please recommend any fics that explore the idea that they’ve kissed before the one we see?

Thanks so much in advance <3

Hi! We have a #first kiss tag, here are some alternative first kiss fics to add, a few of which are specifically related to series two...

That's not what I asked by black_earth (G)

Aziraphale had to will himself to relax the grip on his glass. Crowley found his words and shot them out: “If I were to kiss you right now, would you let me?” _______________________________ It's 1958 and Crowley finds his courage.

Awakening by EdosianOrchids901 (T)

After Crowley rescues Aziraphale (and his books) from the church, Aziraphale experiences a brand new feeling. Later, after the magic show, Crowley has a similar realization.

What Does It Matter by Multifandom_queer (T)

An alternative to how the "naked man" scene could have ended. Funny misunderstandings reveal many feelings. Teen rating for talks of sex but no actual sex

In Other Words (Baby, Kiss Me) by asparkofgoodness (M)

“You’ll stab your eye if you keep on like that.” “I’ll be- oops!” He rubbed at a stray mark with his ring finger, then continued. “I am very out of practice, I’m afraid. Ouch!” “Just,” Crowley huffed as he plucked the pencil from his hand, “let me. C’mere.” Aziraphale did as he was told, turning away from the mirror and watching with widening eyes as Crowley stepped in close. Oh, my. The mirrors’ bulbs bathed half of his angled features in soft light. Always, Crowley was always gorgeous, but something about this suit — the wide plane of the shoulders, perhaps, or the way the vertical stripes led one’s eyes down the length of his body — and the cut of the hat across his brow… Aziraphale could hardly manage a coherent thought. The buzz of the audience reminded him: show. Soon. Right. ----- Crowley pops into the dressing room before Aziraphale's magic show to wish him luck.

Like Real People Do by bobbirose (T)

While scheming of ways to get the lesbians across the way to fall in love via perfect kiss, Crowley and Aziraphale decide maybe their lack of experience in that area is probably to their detriment, actually.

Heaven isn't built to house a love like you and I by ItsScottiesStark (T)

They did it. They stopped Armageddon. They survived. This was it, the first time they were actually free to finally figure out what their side entailed. Aziraphale is a being of love. Always has been. And now, all the love he has for Crowley is free to flow from the edge of his fingertips to the demon's, in a gesture that could only mean one thing; I'm with you. I'm here. As much as his hands itch to reach out for the love of his existence, his words seem to fail him, time and time again. He knows Crowley deserves more than gentle hand holding and forehead kisses in the dark. He aches to scream his love from the top of his lungs, for the whole world to hear. And the demon knows it. And he waits. Because he'll wait forever for Aziraphale. Because he knows they are meant to be one. We take a peak into Aziraphale and Crowley's "peaceful, fragile existence" they slowly carve out for themselves after Armage-not. We get to see Aziraphale slowly but surely reach out for the demon time and time again, bringing them closer than ever. Until Jim happens. And it all goes to shit.

- Mod D

#good omens #good omens s2 #ineffable husbands #first kiss #kissing #mod d

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brandycranby · 7 months

Text

ce characters when you've been going to bed too late (oh no now you're sleep deprived and have constant headaches)

it's me, i'm sleep deprived and have constant headaches.

steve: you won't sleep early? you scroll the interwebs even when he tells you in a very nice manner that it's lights out and time to snuggle? phone jail. you're not getting it back until the morning. "but what if there's an emergency?" well FRIDAY will have to notify you because that darn phone is going in the other room, yes he's being an old man about this but he's also squashing you like a fine weighted blanket so. there.

andy: bless his heart, he's also sleep deprived. and yet his stinky ass has the audacity to stand there with his arms folded, lecturing you on early bedtimes like you BOTH don't have splitting cluster headaches and an inability to focus. shame. go on, you're going to have to shame one another into showering and brushing teeth and getting into bed- no more emails, leave it- and finally, finally, turning the darn light off.

curtis: does this man sleep? by god he does. he has an illegally early start every morning so he goes to bed at 10:30 on the dot like an old man. that means he doesn't know that you stay up until 1, puttering about and doing whatever, tired but somehow disconnected from the ability to lay down and stop thinking. and this goes on for how long?? until he sees you frozen in the middle of the day, exhausted brain trying to catch you up on what you needed from the living room. then it's forced curfew. he points to the bed? you lay down. he's two hundred pounds, he'll make sure you stay there.

ari: another deep sleeper. you could watch a whole vlog next to him and the big lump just goes on snoring in his skivvies like an ol' bear. it's the hubris that gets you caught. a too bright scene makes you turn away and blink rapidly until the spots fade away... and you see ari staring at you, eyebrow raised, unhappy scowl underneath all that beard. ha. haha. oops. evening phone time is suspended indefinitely. it's going on the nightstand on his side and you're going under his arm, nose to pit, until you get a good night's rest.

jake: oh sweet fellow anxiety-haver, gamer, busy to-doer. of all these baes, he's the one who understands staying up for an hour longer, maybe two, just gotta finish this XML sheet or get to the next save point. but he's also an army man through and through. wakes up at 0600 hours (ew), goes for a quick run, jumps in the shower, makes breakfast all before you wake up. and you wake up slower and slower these days :(( so it's his new personal mission to stop at 11pm and scoop you up from whatever you're doing for bed time.

ransom: yes he gets up and writes in the middle of the night, sue him. it's called ✨inspiration✨ which is totally normal for a writer, it's better than writer's block and- hey! what are you doing up?? you're losing beauty sleep and he's slipping melatonin into your mouth, tucking you against his side, and rubbing slow lovely circles on your temples. you're no good to him like this, he scoffs, the house would probably get burnt down and you wouldn't notice. but he keeps tracing your eyebrows juuuuust right so you let that pass. for now.

---

get enough sleep, kids. head ouch.

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joshs-big-toe · 3 months

Text

I Hate That I Love You

a/n: hey my loves, this fanfic that i wrote is definitely a gift because of my lack of writing. i tried something new and wrote this one in first person POV, so let me know if you like that. i do want to give a warning up front, this contains spoilers for the beekeeper movie as well as an ending that made my proofreader, @peetas-nose, say "what the fuck". derek danforth will never get a happy ending.

edit: I LOVE YALL BUT I WARNED YOU IT WOULD BE SAD

CW: heavy smut, p in v, fem!reader, aggressive sex, mentions of drinking and drug use(cocaine), oral sex(fem!receiving), depressing ending, SPOILERS

word count: 3844

PRESENT DAY

Derek Danforth. Momma's boy. Rich kid. 28 year old man-child. Let me be clear, Derek wasn't always this way. He was kind once upon a time. He was always rich, don’t get me wrong, but god when his mother was campaigning, he turned into the biggest asshole you could imagine. When he changed is when I broke up with him. We were 24 when I ended things between us. Though, things never ended between us truly. I was tired of the selfish person he had become. But then again, I use him for things too. He has money, I get sex, it's a win-win situation. This sounds like a prostitute situation, it’s not. He doesn't pay me, not necessarily, but my life has never been difficult since our agreement. I make him look good, he gives me benefits. I’m getting ahead of myself, though. Let me rewind to four years ago.

FOUR YEARS AGO

I sat down on the couch, running my hands down my face before I looked up at him. “Fuck, Derek, you’re not the same person I met! What happened to you?” Derek paced in front of me. He was manhandling a glass of whisky. I honestly was afraid he was going to spill it.

“Y/N, you know I’m doing this for my mom!” His words were slurred. He had started drinking a few months prior when his mom first started talking about running for President. President, ha, fucking insane, right? Not to Derek and not to his mom. I hated it the moment he picked up his first glass, flipping through websites, spending hours up all night on the phone. He did some shit that I’m still in the dark about. I shot up from the couch, snatching the glass out of his hand. His eyes bore into mine, sending a chill up my spine. “Give it back, y/n.”

“Derek, your moms life has become your life. What are you doing with your money? Why are you doing this, this isn’t who you are!” He set his jaw, taking a step forward toward me.

“Give it here.” His voice was almost too calm at this point. I loosened my grip on the glass, allowing it to fall to the ground and shatter on impact. “Fucking hell, are you fucking serious right now?”

“Oops,” I shrugged, sitting back on the couch. My arm rested on the arm rest and I crossed one leg over the other. “Get your head out of your ass or you lose me, Derek. Thats how this is going to be.” I motioned toward him, studying his blazer and whatever-the-fuck expensive shoes he was wearing. “This… This is not who you are, or were, Derek.”

“I’m doing all this shit for her, not me, don’t you get that?”

“I call bullshit on that.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said I call bullshit.” He started pacing, running his hands through his hair. I followed him with my eyes, studying his movements, the crunch from the broken glass under his shoes. He paused in front of me, looking down at me.

“I am working my ass off, getting more money than you could ever comprehend for the sake of her. You don’t fucking understand the fucking stress I’m fucking under!” I was taken back. More money than I could ever comprehend. Ouch. I stand up and take a step toward him, our noses almost touching. I could smell the whisky on his breath and see the frustration and anger in his eyes.

“I can’t do this, Derek. I can’t be with, whoever this is, because it’s not the person I fell in love with.” I ran my hand through my hair as I began to walk away.

“Y/N, help me with this!” He was almost shouting. I shook my head, but before I could get too far, Derek grabbed my wrist and pulled me into his arms, pushing his lips against mine. I fucking hated the taste of whisky, and I hated how I did not want to break away from the kiss. My brain immediately became foggy with arousal. Something about the way his lips moved against mine sent a tremor of heat down in my core. His hand trailed up my arm and to the back of my neck, holding me against him. My mouth gapped, allowing him to slip his tongue into my mouth. Our mouths worked perfectly with each other, drawing me deeper into the kiss. I finally somewhat came to my senses, pulling away briefly, him still attacking my lips as I spoke.

“We,” his lips connected to mine. “Fuck, we’re still done after this.”

“Yeah,” I leaned in, desperately connecting my lips to his again making him gap his sentence. “Okay fine, just shut up.” Shut up I did. As much as I hated who he had become, or more accurately stated, who he was becoming, I couldn’t deny sex. He was insanely good at it, even though he seemed almost careless. And for some reason, his carelessness was why it was so intoxicating. Derek groaned, shoving me down onto the couch, pushing the breath out of me. He moved quick, sliding my shirt and jeans off of me, leaving in nothing but my bra and panties. He bit his lower lip before leaning down to attach his lips to mine again. I could feel him fumbling with his belt before throwing it to the ground, momentarily breaking our kiss to slide out of his dress pants and boxers. His cock sprung out leaving nothing to the imagination. Derek was only slightly above average, but fuck he knew how to work his body with mine. I looked at him, noticing a bead of precum forming at the tip, turning me on that much more. He pulled my panties down to my ankles before turning me onto my stomach, pulling my ass into the air. As he pulled my hair back, I heard him spit into his hand before the wet sounds of him stroking his own cock filled the room. I was getting impatient. I decided to push my ass against him, however I earned myself a hair pull. “We may be done after this,” he huffed, “but we can keep having fun, yeah?” He sighed out as he slowly pushed into me. “I can’t get enough of this fucking pussy, you understand that?” I tried to nod, but the grip on my hair was too tight. I opened my mouth to speak, however as i tried he began pulling in and out of me and grabbing at my ass to roughly pull me onto him. A moan escaped my lips instead of words. “What.” he growled out, not stopping his movements. If anything, it made him go faster. “Did I fuck the words out of your mouth already?” His breathing picked up as he continued his pace. His nails dragged into my ass, making me whine in a pleasured pain.

“D-Derek, fuck,” I struggled to answer him. I felt one hand reach around me and push a finger against my clit. Derek groaned, the sound of skin slapping overpowering any other sound that was in the room. His used his finger to circle my clit. I felt him plant soft kisses on my back as he worked at the bundle of nerves. He released my hair and grabbed my ass again and began to push and pull me off of him again.

“Struggling to use your words, y/n? Come on baby, use those words. Even if we aren’t together, you'll still let me use you right?” I could feel his breath on my neck. I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the pleasure coursing through my body.

“W-what~ aha fuck- whats in it f-for me?” I managed out, trying to stifle my moans. He was pounding into me at this point, his finger still pressing against my clit. I was struggling to keep it together. There was a heat rising up in my lower belly as I felt my orgasm approaching. “F-fucking hell, Derek.”

“Whats in it for you?” His voice was low and his movements were erratic. He was close too. “A life of p-pleasure- fuck.. No more struggling. B-benefits.” I tipped over the edge, my orgasm spreading through my body as I clenched around him. I buried my face into the cushion of the couch, crying out in the pleasure of the orgasm ripping through me. His hands felt their way to my hips, his breathing ragged as i felt him twitch before filling me up with his cum. He pulled out, turning me over onto my back, watching me as I caught my breath. “So,” he panted. “Your answer?”

“You,” I paused to take a breath. “I’m here for whatever you need,” I began. “But I get a peaceful life in return.” He grabbed my clothes, throwing them onto me before getting his own and putting them on. After we both were dressed, he looked down at me and held out his hand.

“You have yourself a deal.” With that, the fate between us was sealed in a handshake.

PRESENT DAY

I regretted the agreement the moment my hand touched his for the handshake. I wish I could hate Derek more, but part of me still very much loves him. The consistent sex over the next four years definitely didn’t help. Derek and I turned 28 a few months ago. He kept changing, he turned to drugs and alcohol, his fashion sense got so much worse and he decided to get these bullshit frosted tips. And I still couldn’t help but look at him and wonder what we could’ve been if he was normal. Once again, I found myself at one of his parties. I was sitting on his lap with my legs crossed while his hand rested on my thigh. On the table next to him sat a glass of whisky and a small vial of white powder, I assume cocaine. For this party, he had me dress in this form-fitting short red dress that ruffled at the end. I draped around him, putting on a show for all his little rich-boy friends.

“You guys have any idea how much we made with that one woman alone?” Derek chimed in, his smile wide as he spoke. I smiled, looking over at Garnett as he raised his glass into the air.

“Wish I could’ve seen the look on her face as she saw that,” He paused before raising his voice. He shot his arms into the air, squeezing his eyes shut and shouting out in victory. “3.7 MILLION DOLLARS!!” All of Derek’s friends’ voices started ringing together, creating a dissonance of voices and shouts. I hated it here. I couldn’t stand the smell of cigarette smoke and the drunk men trying to poke and prod at me everywhere. Derek could see the discomfort on my face, or maybe feel it in the rigidity of my body draped over him. I feel his hand run up my thigh, the tips of his fingers resting under the hem of my dress. I look down at him, his hair looking fried and his stupid green suit he was wearing. I grimaced. He glanced in my direction, pulling my head down to where my ear met his lips.

“Liven up, y/n, we have an agreement.” He mumbled, the heat of his breath tickling my neck.

“Oh-ho-ho,” Garnett exclaimed. “Derek wants some from his bitch!” I winced but kept a smile, even choking out a little laugh.

“Watch it, Garnett, remember your place.” Derek’s tone was serious. Garnett raised his hands in surrender.

“My bad, my bad. I'm going to take the boys and go talk about the new branch you’re building.” Garnett stood up, his posse following close behind, giving Derek shoulder punches and shakes as they made their way out. The door slammed shut behind him, cueing me to get off of Derek and make my way to the couch. I kicked off my heels and leaned my head back against the head of the couch groaning, my eyes screwing shut.

“You’ve been here for an hour, are you seriously acting like that right now?”

“I don’t want to hear it from you. I wore what you wanted me to, did my makeup the way you wanted me to, god forbid I’m tired of playing pretend with these jackass friends of yours.” I looked over to him. He was laid back in his chair, head back, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“If you’re done, I need you to tell me. I have plenty of other girls who would fight to be in the position you’re in.” His eyes met mine, a mocking smile was on his lips. I rolled my eyes and looked away, unable to hide the grin that threatened the corners of my mouth. His smile became more sincere. “That’s my girl.”

“Still not yours, Derek.”

“You are while you’re here.” He stood up and took a sip of his whisky before grabbing the vial and sauntering over to me. “You don’t understand how fucking hot you look right now.” He knelt down to the ground in front of my knees, gently spreading them apart before getting in between them. “You’re going to stay still for me, right?”

“Derek, what are you doing?” He held the small vial up and shook it in front of my face. “And you plan to…”

“Just stay fucking still.” I watched him closely, eyeing his every movement. He fumbled around his suit pockets, finding a $50 and handing it to me. “Pull your dress up, then roll that, yeah?” His face was flushed as he watched me push my dress further up my thighs, exposing my panties in full. He bit his lower lip as he looked at me, an obvious wet spot from my own arousal seeping through already. His eyes met mine, a grin plastering his face. “I love the effect I have on you, y/n.” I felt my face heat as I rolled the bill for him, knowing what he was going to do, but taken by surprise with how he did it. Derek broke eye contact first, taking the vial and unscrewing the lid. He brought it over to my thigh and carefully began pouring a line of cocaine on me. I wanted to shift, to mess him up just to see how I would react, but I was infatuated with what he was doing. Fuck I hate that he does this. I couldn’t stop him. He held his hand out, telling me he wanted the rolled up bill from me. I complied, wordlessly placing it between his thumb and pointer finger. “Good girl,” he mumbled. He turned, looking at my other thigh, quickly pouring out another small line across me. “Better stay still, understand me?” I was afraid to move. “Words, you know better.”

“Yes, Derek. Perfectly still.” He smiled. He brought the bill up to his nose, plugging one side and lowering himself close to my thigh. I tensed as he sniffed up the powder. He groaned, rubbing his nose before turning to the other thigh and doing the same thing but on the opposite side of his nose.

“Fuck,” he mumbled as he pinched his nose and sniffed again. “You still have some..” Before I could comprehend what he meant, he ran his tongue up my thigh where the line was, but did not stop. He traced the top hem of my panties until he reached the other thigh, dragging his tongue down my thigh picking up any residue from the powder that may have been left over. His eyes connected with mine, both of our faces flushed.

“The door locks on its own, right?” I mumbled, my arousal taking control of me. That was the hottest fucking shit I have ever seen in my fucking life. He nodded, no words coming from him as the tips of his fingers dragged slowly up my thighs, hooking around my panties and sliding them down my thighs and pulling them off of me. He met my eyes again as he brought them up to his mouth, licking my arousal off of them before discarding them to the side. Fuck that made my stomach flip. His pupils were already blown, not looking away from me as he pulled me down the couch until my ass was barely on it. I sigh as he maintains contact, leaning down and planting a kiss on my pubic bone.

“Such a perfect little pussy,” he mumbled onto me. The movement of his lips against me made my body jolt. “All for me, too. Fuck,” he pressed his tongue against my clit, moving his head up and down, my eyes following his. He groaned onto me as I wrapped my legs around his shoulders. My hands found their way into his hair making him nip at me in response. “Hands to yourself,” He growled, shoving his tongue into me. His movements became faster and more erratic and his hands squeezed at my thighs. I groaned, trying to focus on him and his movements, but the pleasure that was spreading through me was almost too much. His nose pushed against my clit as he tongue-fucked me, the heat building within me rapidly. My body begged for release as he pulled away, denying me, before standing up and grabbing my jaw and spitting in my mouth. “The things you fucking do to me even after all these fucking years. God I can’t believe I ever let you leave.” His words took me by surprise, but he took me into a needy, heated kiss before I had the chance to respond. His tongue worked its way into my mouth, making the kiss deeper. I reached up toward his pants and began unbuttoning them and waited for him to stop me. If anything, he gave me more access to slide them down. I began to palm him through his boxers, a groan escaping into my mouth. “T-take them off,” he growled before immediately attaching his lips to mine again. I obliged, not waiting before dropping his boxers to the ground. He wasted no time before stepping out of them. My hand connected to his cock, slowly pumping it. He stifled a moan. “Fuck I love the way you fucking touch me. Like nobody else in the fucking world. You drive me insane, y/n.” He pushed me back on the couch as he removed his blazer, throwing it off to the side somewhere in the room. I began to turn onto my stomach but he stopped me.

“I thought-”

“Just shut the fuck up, will you? You think too much sometimes.” He grabbed one of my legs and draped it over his shoulder. His eyes met mine, focusing on my face as he slowly pushed himself into me. Just the tip. I didn’t look away despite every bone in my body telling me to. He started moving his tip in and out of me, my hands grabbing at his shirt to try and get him to fully push in. I am desperate, and with desperation comes begging, and with begging, I come apart.

“Fucking hell, Derek please just-” before I could finish my thought, he pushed himself into me. He grabbed my hips and pulled me onto him, filling me up completely. I threw my head back and bit my lip to stifle the moans that were threatening to escape. There was still a party going on outside, afterall. He didn't hesitate before grabbing my jaw, making me look at him.

“I love seeing your face as you come apart. The face you make when I make you so fucking needy. Fucking hell.” He pulled out of me before aggressively thrusting himself back in. He continued at this pace, forcing me to look at him. “I fucking love everything about you, y/n.” My eyes widened. He’s just high, he doesn't know what he’s talking about right now, right? I felt him twitch inside me telling that he was close. He brought his free hand down to my clit, pushing his thumb against it throwing me over the edge into an orgasm. I whined and he groaned as I clenched around him, his body convulsing as he reached his climax, filling me up. He allowed his body to fall on top of mine and rested his head on my shoulder as he caught his breath. We stayed there for a moment before he got up and put his blazer and slid up his pants. He threw his boxers at me and watched me wipe myself clean.

“Where’s my underwear?” He shrugged, lazily checking the ground around the couch. I groan and throw his boxers at him. He made a face at me, dodging them.

“Gross, you could’ve made a mess on my jacket.” I rolled my eyes and pulled my dress back down, leaning back on the couch.

“You said something earlier.”

“Don’t.”

“Did you mean it?” He was pacing again. All he seemed to do was pace.

“You and I are not… We fucking can’t, okay? This won’t be spoken about again, do you fucking understand that?” Without a word, I grabbed my heels off the ground, stood up and began my trek out of the room. I felt his eyes burning into me as I approached the door, turning to face him as I placed my hand on the handle.

“Goodbye, Derek.”

3 MONTHS LATER

The day I found out Derek was dead was probably the hardest day of my life. I knew what he was doing, though I didn’t know the extent of how bad it was. I knew he was investing in companies and owned call centers. I thought they were authentic tech support centers. In actuality, he was scamming older people out of money. Billions of dollars. The comments his “friends” made made sense now. I would have stopped him. I could have stopped him if I had just known. He was murdered in the crossfire of some vengeful man in a group called the Beekeepers. Shot him in the head in front of his own mother.

—--------

I sighed as I sat down on the fresh patch of grass where he was laid to rest. I placed a flower on it. The stone itself had been defiled. I was here once a week to try and keep it in good, well, okay shape. “You are a fucking idiot, Derek Danforth. You should've just…” A tear slipped down my cheek. “Why couldn’t you have just stayed the same. I would’ve fucking married you, dumbass!” My hand hit the ground. I cried silently for who knows how long before I decided to get up. I hesitated, dusting my jeans off looking down at him. “I love you.” I mumbled before walking away, trying to carry on with my life like I never had him to begin with.

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runningmunson · 2 years

Text

Birthday Cake

Pairing: Eddie Munson x gn!reader

Word Count: 848

Summary: Eddie needs your help baking a cake for Wayne’s birthday.

Warning: swearing

You woke up to the sound of someone loudly banging on your door at 7 AM on a Saturday. You tried to ignore it at first and hoped the person would go away, pulling the sheets over your head and sinking deeper into the bed. However, the knocking continues. You let out a groan, throw the blankets off, and make your way to the door.

You open the door and there is Eddie’s smiling face. “What do you want, Edward?” you mumbled.

“No good morning? No I love you? No ‘I’m so glad my wonderful boyfriend came to visit me on this beautiful morning?’ Ouch,” Eddie said, putting his hand over his heart.

You roll your eyes at him. “You do realize what time it is?”

“Um yes, that’s why I’m here. You know it’s Wayne’s birthday, right?” Eddie questioned.

“Of course, I know that Eddie but I thought we weren’t doing anything until later tonight?” You groan. There is nothing you love more than your sleep and Eddie knows that.

“I wanna bake a cake for him and that’s where you come in. So get your ass in your room to change, we’re gonna go to the store, and then go to my place to make this cake,” Eddie demanded.

You sigh, “Eddie, why can’t we do this later?”

“Wayne gets home from work in 2 hours and I wanted to surprise him. I have no idea how to make a cake. (Y/N), please help me?” Eddie begged, getting on his knees and folding his hands.

“Eddie, get off the floor! You're lucky I love you. Just give me 5 minutes to get ready and then we can leave,” you laughed.

Your trip to the store was quick and you were now at Eddie’s trailer about to start baking.

“Okay Eddie, I’m going to teach you how to make a cake from scratch without burning it,” you said. As you were getting the ingredients together you turned around to grab the flour only to see Eddie wearing an apron. “What the hell are you wearing?”

“Oh, this old thing?” Eddie shrugged, motioning to the apron. “It’s what all the hot chefs are wearing now.”

You laughed, “Really? Well then hot chef, let's get started. You wanna combine the flour, salt, and baking soda first.”

Eddie began to put the ingredients in a bowl when a thought popped in his head. “Hey, you have something in your hair.”

“What? Where?” you asked. Then Eddie took a handful of flour and threw it at your face. “Edward Munson! Are you serious right now? Your uncle will be home in an hour, we don’t have time for this!”

“Oh come on babe, it was fun-“ Eddie didn’t get to finish his sentence before you threw flour right back at him. Wiping flour off his face he said, “Okay, I deserved that. We can proceed now.”

“Thank you. Now you need to add the sugar, eggs, and vanilla, then we can mix it.” Eddie grabbed an egg and cracked it, but not without getting a few shells in there that you had to fish out because he said it was “too slippery.” The last egg he outright dropped on the floor, an oops slipping out of his mouth.

“The only thing we have left is to pour the mix into the pan and put it in the oven.” Eddie grabbed the bowl and started pouring it into the pan, batter getting everywhere. “Eddie! If you keep getting it everywhere Wayne isn’t going to have a cake at all!”

“Well why don’t you do it then!” he yelled. You grabbed the bowl from him, finishing up and putting it in the oven. As you wait, you and Eddie take turns scraping the bowl and eating what was left.

“Hey, you got some on your lip.” Before you could wipe it off, Eddie pulls you in for a kiss. He picks you up and places you on the counter, his body between your legs and your hands finding his hair. He slides his hands under your shirt, rings cold on your hips. Before you could begin to enjoy each other, the timer went off making Eddie groan. You grab an oven mitt and pull the cake out.

“Time to decorate! Wayne should be on his way.” Now you may be able to bake a cake, but neither you nor Eddie could decorate one to save your life. The cake had white icing pasted on and a sloppy ‘Happy Birthday Wayne!’ written on top in green. As you were making the final touches the door opened and in comes his uncle.

“Happy birthday Wayne!” You and Eddie both yell with big smiles on your face.

Wayne took in the sight of both of you. There was a broken egg on the floor, batter on the counter, Eddie wearing an apron, flour in and on both of your hair and faces, and icing all over your fingers. All Wayne could do was laugh and shake his head thinking to himself how perfect you were for each other.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things imagine

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jennagrinsoverml · 2 years

Note

hii do you have a list of miraculous fics you think everyone should read at least once?

Anon, I have been excited to answer this request ever since I got it. What better way to celebrate my 50th Rec List (!!!!) than with my favourite fandom fics? 🎉🎉🎉

I've tried to choose fics with a variety of tones, from different fandom eras, and different authors. These fics are all special to me in some way, and whittling this list down was HARD. Others may have fics they think should be on this list, and to those people I say: make your own rec list. This one's mine. 😘

Experimental Kisses by @komorebirei

Ladybug watched him. Maybe it was guilt, maybe sympathy, maybe a streak of playfulness. Maybe the traumatic akuma experience had softened her up. Whatever the reason, a thought wafted lazily through her mind and out of her mouth. “You know… you’re right. It isn’t fair, is it?”

Chat Noir looked up.

“I remember my first kiss, but you don’t.” She hummed and tapped her chin, making a show of remembering. “It wasn’t a bad kiss, but we were in the middle of fighting an akuma, so I didn’t get to enjoy it much, either.”

Oops—that came out sounding a little, no, a lot more flirty than she had intended. Anyway, if she was going to commit to this idea, she may as well go all in.

One-shot. Ladybug offers to kiss Chat since he doesn’t remember their kiss and the way she reacts to the kiss…it lives in my mind rent-free. I have fallen asleep many a night fantasizing about what the repercussions of the kiss might look like. One of my absolute favourite Ladynoir fics.

team is a four letter word by @ladyofthenoodle

Alya didn’t want to come between Ladybug and Chat Noir. But she didn’t want to stop being Rena Rouge either. And if Chat Noir didn’t want to talk to her, then she’d need to find a different way to prove all three of them could be a team.

Her plan unintentionally brings a few secrets to light, which leads to even more secrets coming to light, which leads to… well, Alya is sure it’ll all work out eventually.

Multi-chapter. Warning, this fic is a WIP! (But there’s only one chapter to go.) Honestly, I didn’t want to have any WIPs on this list and I was lowkey hoping that it would be finished before I posted this list but I’m obsessed with this one and couldn’t leave it off. It’s literally one of the BEST fics in the entire fandom and, I think, the absolute best delving into the characterization and relationship dynamics of the core four. This fic feels so dynamic and complex, with all of the characters feelings so like themselves and each having their own distinct voices. The conflict is so well done and so realistic. It’s such a fantastic tackling of the issues that came up in the last couple seasons and I cannot rave about it enough!!

œuf ouch owie by @ominousunflower

Chat Noir enlists Rena Rouge's help to create an Aspik illusion. Absolutely nothing goes wrong.

Ladybug smiles. “I wanted to drop by and welcome Aspik. I know it must be a little intimidating, being surrounded by so many veteran heroes…so, welcome! We’re glad to have you on board.”

“I look like an egg!” Aspik announces, T-posing.

Chat turns to Rena, feeling like he has been punched in the solar plexus. What the hell? he mouths.

Rena grimaces, her eyes wide with panic. Stomach sinking, Chat remembers one of the first things he learned about the Fox Miraculous: that if Rena Rouge isn’t focused, her illusions go haywire.

Oh, no.

One-shot. This is hands down the FUNNIEST fic in the entire fandom asdfghjkl like I have read this fic at least 50 times and I still laugh out loud every single time. If you have somehow failed to read this fic before, read it now. You won’t regret it!

lucky (we're in love in every way) by @carpisuns

Chat Noir is Adrien, and Marinette is freaking out. If she manages to quiet her internal screaming, maybe she can also find the guts to tell him her identity too. And maybe they'll actually live happily ever after—well, as soon as Tikki and Plagg are done humiliating them.

One-shot. This fic just makes me so incredibly happy. Like it puts a smile on my face every single time I read it (and I have read it many, many times!) I love Marinette’s reactions and Adrien’s sweetness and the kwamis just absolutely ROASTING both of them. Marissa has written a ton of amazing fics for this fandom (seriously we are so lucky to have her) and I was tempted by others (like tell me something i don't know) but in the end, I had to follow my heart with this one.

Your Kitty by @gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights

“Such a dramatic kitty.” Marinette scratched under his chin, bringing a smile to his face and a purr to his throat.

Your kitty, he didn’t say.

Wait. What?

(The one where Chat Noir thinks he needs pats like a cat, only to find out he may have jumped to the wrong conclusion.)

One-shot. When I think of Marichat, this is THE fic I think of. Adrien being touch starved is 100% my headcanon now. This is just so sweet! Marinette’s affection and Adrien’s determination to do the right thing no matter the personal cost and the way they fell for each other without meaning to... Also I love that they both encouraged the other to go back to their original crushes because that makes so much sense!!

rattle my cage by @lnc2

In which history, despite Alya's best efforts, does not repeat itself.

One-shot. I am always here for Adrien being rash and Marinette being smart and capable and just switching to treating him as Chat absolutely seamlessly after a reveal. I absolutely love the vibes of this one.

Chasing the C/h/atwalk. by @runningoutofink

Paris. The city of lights, love and fashion. Follow the progress of Marinette Dupain Cheng as she enters the extremely competitive world of Reality television for a chance to be the winner of Project Runway: France.

Multi-chapter. It should come as no surprise by now that I’m a sucker for reality tv and this is my absolute favourite reality cross in the fandom! I love that it’s canon compliant, and frankly the idea of Marinette and Adrien as designer and model on Project Runway is friggin’ BRILLIANT. The slow burn and pining are delicious, and the identity reveal is incredibly well done! (And it has a steamy sequel, Meet me in the Middle, which is 🔥🔥🔥 and intensely satisfying after all of that build up.)

daydream by @clairelutra

you're my daydream

you know that i've been thinking about you lately

In which Adrien finds out Ladybug is Marinette, and beats the 'this is fine' dog at his own game.

One-shot. Shout-out to the author for realizing way before canon let on that Adrien is way more likely to figure out Marinette than the reverse! And then absolutely murdering us with this intense slow burn that absolutely drips with mutual pining and UST.

What Will You Do When Everyone Knows? by @sariahsue

They stepped in closer, shoulder to shoulder to catch the akuma as she landed, but she twisted in midair, landing squarely in front of Cat Noir, swiping at him. He stepped back, trying to keep his balance. Her fingertips almost touched his face, and Ladybug felt her stomach lurch.

“Duck!” she yelled to him as she whipped her yoyo around. He did, but unfortunately, the akuma woman did, too. Ladybug suddenly had no target to latch onto and lost her balance. Her stomach twisted again as she pitched forward. Black hands darted forward to catch her, but too late she realized it wasn’t her partner. Cold gloves caught her shoulder and neck, then slid up her face, brushing past her earrings. Cold. The woman’s touch froze Ladybug’s breath in her throat.

Then there was something warm around her middle. Cat Noir’s shout sounded distant as he pulled her away. As the woman’s black gloves left her face, Ladybug felt even more heat being pulled from her, along with… something else.

Multi-chapter. There really isn’t another fic in the fandom like this one. The akuma is original and provides an absolutely amazing premise for this fic. We have mystery, intrigue, and a huge upset to the status quo with the public revealing of Ladybug’s identity. I also loved the dramatic irony of Marinette being unable to understand Chat’s reactions to things that make perfect sense to us readers. It’s got amazing characterizations and suspense, and I love it!

But All I’m Seeing Is You by @chelseaapproved

After Ladybug finds out Adrien is her Chat Noir, they start dating. She didn’t think it’d be so hard to keep her identity a secret from him. She also didn’t realize how much it would affect her friendship with him as Marinette.

One-shot. This might be my favourite ladrien of all time. It’s only about 5k, but man does it ever pack in a lot of emotion and relationship development and I really, really, really love it. I really felt how much they love each other in this one and Marinette is just so, so wonderful to Adrien and he’s so wonderful to her and if you haven’t already please read this.

A Miraculous Reveal by @kasienda

Series of one-shots and drabbles all centered around The Reveal Moment. Identities will be revealed, feelings will be confessed, and secrets will be discovered through contrived situations, accidents, meddling friends, desperate moments, and moments of emotional vulnerability. Each chapter is a self contained piece. Love-square focused, but will not remain exclusive to them. Each chapter will have its own trigger warnings.

Collection of one-shots. I feel a little like I’m cheating in including a collection here, but like most of us in this fandom, I’m an absolute sucker for identity reveals, and @kasienda is especially talented at writing them! Every single one of these is beautiful, amazing and worth reading at least once.

the wonderful part of the mess that we made by heresie_irisee

They knew.

They knew, and there would be no magical reset button for the memories they'd made today. She'd have to see him at school every day, and she'd see the Chat in him, as surely as he'd see the Ladybug in her.

One-shot. Oblivio is probably my favourite episode and this is such a great alternate take on it. The mutual pining is so, so, so good! Especially love Marinette struggling to assimilate Adrien’s identities and Adrien’s obliviousness.

The following fics are amazing and absolutely worth reading, but do feature sexual content, so minors beware.

The Ladybugs and The Bees by @bullysquadess

AKA the early-fandom Ladynoir puberty fic that spiraled waaaaay out of proportion.

Multi-chapter. I’ve avoided reccing this fic for so long as it was literally the most kudosed fic in the entire fandom when I joined. However, the kudos are well-earned and I can’t make a list of must reads without including it. I love the ladynoir, the way it builds slowly, the focus on the developing relationship, both physical and otherwise, the yearning and the devotion and the vulnerability. And, of course, the steamy scenes are fantastic!! The whole thing is just so well developed and feels so grounded and real. I absolutely love it.

one night of moonlight by @mirthaculous

i’ll always think of you

inside of my private thoughts

i can imagine you

touching my private parts

2:13 ok im texting you now like i promised instead of drunktexting adrien and telling him how badly i want his cock tonight. arent you proud of me?

2:19 this is Adrien, hi.

Marinette’s brain-to-mouth filter isn’t great on the best of days. Add some beer and some misplaced texts, and things get a little more… interesting.

One-shot. Rated M. This is one of my favourite fics of all time. This is so steamy, seriously the UST is off the charts!! It is absolutely unreal how much these two want each other and the mutual pining and they’re so stupid and this fic literally killed me and I thanked it.

#ml #miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #ml fic rec #ml fic recs #ml love square #adrienette #adrinette #ladynoir #marichat #ladrien #prpr #identity reveal #fic recs #jennarecsml

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luvistqrzzz · 10 months

Note

me personally i think you need to write something sunoo

you're the one i want at the end of the day

01:54 sunoo x f.reader genre: timestamp, f2l, fluff wc: 0.9k warnings: being drunk, profanity, one kiss

summary: when a piggy back ride home leads you to another destination

an: the fact that i had this in my draft for ages and was thinking when to post it😭😭... TYSM for reuquesting this luv🫶🫶 hope you enjoy this <3... i wrote this in a whim one day so excuse me if this isnt that good :/

'Sunoo-ahhhh', You slurred as the said boy dragged you out of Jay’s front door.

Jake, Jay's roommate who was leaning against the door frame, made a disgusted face, 'Fuck, get her out of her. How is she so wasted?'

Turning towards Jake, you raised an accusatory finger at him, 'Yah! I am not… Wasted!'

'Sure you aren't, Y/N', Sunoo whisper screamed. 'Now, let's go.'

After somehow managing to pull a drunk girl out of the house, he sat down on the curb beside you who was swaying slightly before you plopped your head down on Sunoo's shoulder.

The boy stiffened for a fraction of a section, feeling you so close before relaxing again. He was glad that it was 1 o'clock in the morning and the dim street light hid his blushing cheeks.

He put an arm around you, slightly shaking you, 'Y/Nie, get up, we need to get to the apartment.'

You pulled your head up. 'Nope! I won't. I like it here, with you.' You giggled, snuggling closer to your roommate plus best friend.

Sunoo couldn't help the butterflies filling his stomach, this was so unlike you. Alcohol and its effects. 'We are sitting on a curb', he sighed, making you stand up with him.

You whined a bit before Sunoo pulled up behind him in a piggy back style. 'You have left me no choice, Y/L/N Y/N.'

Thankfully the apartment was just a few blocks from Jay’s place.

Walking down an empty road in a cool summer night, Sunoo felt a calming silence settle between the two of you.

He turned his head back to find your head on his shoulder, looking up towards the starry night sky. He felt a funny little happiness in him at the sight of your beautiful drunken face staring into the dark abyss.

'It's so pretty', you mumbled innocently, having sobered up a bit.

Sunoo nodded but you continued, 'I can count 1, 2, 3… 14, 15 and yes, 16!' You exclaimed looking at Sunoo. 'My 16th star, you.'

He chuckled at your antics, his heart doing a little leap, 'Y/N, you aren't in your right mind.'

What were you even implying? Sunoo didn't want his mind to run into false assumptions but the way you looked at his and pressed your cheek against his, he almost wished you felt the same. Almost.

'I am, Kim Sunoo! You are prettier than those stars, you know.'

'Oh really?!' He continued walking.

'Did you also know?' You whispered into his ear, giggling. 'That I like you Kim Sunoo so so much! Oops! That was a secret.' You whimpered, I don't think you like me back, though.'

Sunoo couldn't even control his beating heart and the way his stomach was jumping at each of your words. Were you being real? No no, these must be your drunken words.

But a small voice inside his head spoke, Aren't drunken words sober thoughts…?

You couldn't possibly like him… right?

Well, wrong because the poor red haired boy didn't know how hopelessly in love you were with him, how he was the literal sunshine of your life and how you would give anything to make him feel happy.

Sunoo stopped in his tracks as you whispered, 'I really mean it, Sunoo-ah. I might be a bit drunk but- Ouch!' You yelped as he suddenly dropped his arms causing you to tightly grip on to his shoulders with your feet dangling. Being short definitely had its disadvantages.

You grimaced, placing your feet on the ground. Your head spun a little as you tried to position yourself but you were a lot more sober than the past five minutes, thanks to your sudden words.

The boy before turned around to face you, 'Did you…' He began, however interrupted by you.

'At least give me a warning before dropping me off like that!' You huffed, turning your gaze away from his, shy from your sudden earlier confession.

However, you had to admit that it was long coming. You just needed the push of liquid courage.

Sunoo moved closer to you, taking your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him. You felt your cheeks burn up at the sudden contact.

'Did you…' he continued, 'Mean what you said two minutes back?'

You looked down at your feet, fidgeting, 'Would you hate me if I said I did? Would you sto-'.

No, you couldn't continue because in the next moment you saw Sunoo step closer to you, taking your face in his hands and met eyes with you, they held this intensity in them, saying something. 'No', he breathed out. 'I wouldn't hate you. I could never hate you, Y/N. I- i like you too.'

You almost couldn't help the smile forming as you closed the distance. Sunoo tensed a bit before melting into the kiss and pulling you by the waist.

When he finally broke the kiss, you looked up towards his bright eyes before you both bursted into a fit of giggles.

'Do you think the convenience store will still be open now?' You wondered.

Sunoo frowned, 'Why do you ask?!'

You smiled, taking his hand, before replying, 'I wanna sober up.'

'... And maybe have a late night picnic at the park beside it with my boyfriend!'

permanent taglist - open send an ask to be added - @rikizm @str0l0gy

feedbacks and reblogs are appreciated!

work belongs to @/luvistqrzzz do not copy repost or translate my work

#enhypen imagines #— works !#enhanet #hyfenet #enhypen fanfiction #sunoo x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen fanfics #enhypen smau #sunoo fanfic #enhypen au #sunoo imagines #kim sunoo #enha fics #enhypen fluff #sunoo fluff

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wanderingblindly · 10 days

Note

Hi sweetheart!!!!!!!!!!!! for the drabble thingy, 9, D, sebchal👀💖 love you💖💖

oh my god this was so fucking fun to write, thank you for the GENIUS prompt choice love!!!! cranked this out before i went to bed, i hope you enjoy the slight crack vibes!!!!

prompts here xx

Oops! All Twink Death (Charles Leclerc/Sebastian Vettel, 1k words)

His head is too far up on the pillow.

In fact, it’s all wrong; the sheets are pulled up too high, not pooled around his feet like they usually are. There's a second pillow pressed up against his back -- actually, why is he sleeping on his side? He's been a stomach sleeper his entire life.

Sebastian groans, rolling over. It's never a good sign to break routine on a race weekend, especially when it's so easy for the smallest detail to linger like a rain cloud overhead -- a constant feeling of wrong-footedness. Cutting his losses, he peels back the sheets and flings his legs over the edge of the bed, slamming them onto the floor with much more force than usual.

Is the bed… lower?

His feet shouldn't touch the floor that quickly.

His hands grip the edge of the bed as he stares down at his feet. Suddenly, he catches it from the corner of his eye -- longer fingers, more pronounced veins on the back of his tanned hands, and well-manicured nails. His stomach lurches when he brain catches up, a panicked confusion building in his throat.

Because those aren't his hands. Sebastian knows these hands, knows the way they feel against tongue and teeth and flesh. Faster than a jump start, Sebastian flies off the bed -- tripping over his bigger feet -- and stumbles over to the bathroom mirror.

In Charles's distinct accent, he gasps: "What the fuck."

Frantic knocking on his hotel door confirms his immediate thoughts: that should be Charles with his body, then.

With careful steps, his new center of gravity more unsettling than sailing rough seas, Sebastian moves to open the door. "You'll wake the neighbo--"

"What did you do?!" Charles cuts him off, pushing his way into the room and grabbing Sebastian -- himself? -- by the wrist, dragging them both away from the door.

"What did I do?" He scoffs, both a little offended and amused as Charles paces across the room, tugging his hands through his hair agitatedly. It's bizarre, seeing Charles's youthful and expressive body language on himself -- almost like a return to a Sebastian long-gone.

"Well of course it wasn't me!"

"I mean, at least we switched with each other?" Sebastian offers, moving to sit down on the bed. He pats the space next to him, encouraging Charles to come tangle in his arms; maybe it's best if they both calm down first. "Because, well, it could be worse, right?"

"Could it?" Charles asks, voice pinched and eyes bright -- nearly manic. "I'm old, Sebastian!"

Ouch.

Sebastian smiles wryly. "Oh are you?"

If Sebastian didn't have the hottest driver on the grid wrapped around his finger -- if he hadn't always had the most desirable drivers under his thumb -- then maybe that would have hurt. But as it is, Charles acting like a panicked, distressed kitten is almost endearing -- batting at him without claws.

"It's --!" He stutters, finally freezing to stare over at his own body; Sebastian looks like a cat eyeing it's prey. "It's not old on you, but on me! I'm old!"

Sebastian didn't realize his accent got so heavy when his body was angry, nor that he could still blush so much.

"No wonder Mark always wanted to sleep with me," He smiles, eyeing his body up and down slowly. "I see the, hm. Appeal."

"Oh my god, it is not the time to be --!" Charles flutters his hands about, waving vaguely between the both of them. "We're fucked, Seb! And you already know what they are saying about me on Twitter, that my beard is --"

"Really hot?" Sebastian perks up, still trying to steer the conversation in a more… palatable direction.

"That it makes me look like I'm in, you know, twink death." He says it with derision, like speaking the words sealed his fate.

He can't help but laugh, laughing harder when he sees Charles's blush deepen -- running down his neck and towards his chest. "I'm sure you won't twink die, or whatever you're reading --"

"Twink death, Seb." He sounds nearly on the brink of tears -- god, yeah, Mark really had a point here.

Clearly it's not about being in Sebastian's body, really. It's something bigger.

"Oh Charles," Sebastian sighs, reaching his arms out to grab Charles's wrist; he never realized how small his hands are compared to Charles's before, the feeling of wrapping his fingers around him so easily makes him lightheaded.

Anyways.

He tugs Charles onto the bed, landing next to him with a pout. "You've never looked better than you do right now," Sebastian whispers in his ear, snagging his teeth on Charles's -- his? -- earlobe, the way he knows his body likes.

Charles shudders, Sebastian's hot breath on his sensitive skin surely sending shivers down his spine. Encouraged, Sebastian grabs Charles's hands and slides them under his shirt, pressing them against Charles's body's torso. "Do you know how much I love how big you feel now?"

"Seb," Charles whines, voice delightfully needy; Sebastian can't decide if he likes it better in his or Charles's accent. "That's not, you know that's not what I --" Sebastian pulls his hands up further, tracing the paths he's learned elicits a shudder from Charles's body.

He grazes his nipples, and his breath catches. God, is this what it always feels like for him?

"Wanna fuck about it?" Sebastian asks, mischievous smile on his lips, the feeling sharp and confident with Charles's beautiful mouth.

"Oh Jesus," Charles falls forward, burying his face in Sebastian's neck.

"Yeah?"

"Fuck, yeah. Yeah, ok."

Problem solved, probably. The self-esteem part, anyways. The body problem can wait until later, probably.

#EDITING AND PROOF READING IS FOR COWARDS #AND I AM NOT A COWARD!!!#anyways the idea of having charles say 'twink death' made me laugh way too hard to not include #thank u for understanding #prompt fills #f1 drabble #sebchal #f1 rpf #f1 fanfic

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panicpixieplaygirl · 8 months

Text

more modern!han – f!reader

notes: han is coming on strong from the get. it’s like a meet-cute… but a meet-fuck. you have been warned.

also. here is a list of songs from my playlist that would fit this moment: break on through, lovers rock, c.r.e.a.m, electric relaxation, touch me, lust. pick ur poison

warnings: han refers to the reader as physically small, exhibitionism, dubcon/noncon?? no explicit consent given but the reader is into it. trust the process i beg you.

MINORS DNI! 18+ word count: 1.3k oops

you take another long drag from the blunt resting between your fingers, sink further into the tacky vintage couch you laze on as the smoke blooms past your lips. music plays loudly through old-style speakers, wired together throughout each room, practically vibrating the house. you lift your heavy lids, made heavier by your new level of high & the thick lash extensions you’d had done earlier that day, and look out to the people surrounding you, having conversations, laughing with each other, dancing together, taking shots, making out.

you’re feeling good, enough to bring a smile to your face in a situation that would have your sober self paralyzed with anxiety. but you’re not quite at that sweet spot yet.

you take a deep inhale and exhale, fill your deprived lungs with air, before bringing the stick back to your lips and abusing them all over again. you’re perfectly relaxed. so relaxed that your reaction to the cocky man sticking his nose in your business is remarkably tame.

“you better go careful with that, sweetheart. it’s pretty thick, and you’re awful small. sure you can handle it?”

you grimace at his words and a laugh. what a line.

“this is mine.” you say as you turn to look at the obnoxious, grown man, but feel your stomach drop and your whole body flutter when you lay eyes in him. he’s classically stunning, sitting on the arm of the couch, plump lips resting in a cheeky grin. no wonder he had so much audacity, hell, he’s earned it with a face like that.

he reaches his hand out for the weed, and you look at him for a moment, trying to decide if his face is worth the irritation.

“you don’t have to give it to me but, uh, it is my house, my party.”

the second time he speaks his voice hits your ears like honey, harps sing in your brain, strings played on your heart, and you’re almost scared at how easily he’s drawing you in. but he doesn’t have to know that.

you take one more hit and hand it to him, humiliated at the way heat floods when your body when he ‘accidentally’ on purpose brushes your fingers for a second too long. his hands are calloused, and much larger than yours, and you know that’s exactly what he wants you to see.

you’re glaring when you look at him again, but he’s still got that stupid smile on his face. he brings the blunt to his lips and takes a deep inhale, his exposed chest expanding, lips pursing around it, and suddenly you’re only seeing the intimacy in the act of sharing smoke.

he holds your eye the whole time, like he’s testing your weed, judging it, judging you by extension, but you’re not concerned. not about impressing him anyway. no, you’re concerned about the way you’re already starting to throb. he’s too gorgeous, he’s too brazen, and every little thing he does only seems to make him more magnetic. worse, he seems to know it. and it annoys the fuck out of you.

“you better be careful with that. in my experience, it’s usually old men who can’t handle their weed.” he wasn’t old at all, but he was definitely older. too old to be bothering you. unfortunately, a large, stupid part of you liked it. at least when it came from that beautiful mouth.

“ouch,” he chuckles as he exhales, enjoying your snark too much. you just roll your eyes, looking away as he inhales again.

“and i’m not that small.”

he fully laughs then, standing from the arm of the couch to get closer to the nearest ash tray, and taking the opportunity to move next to you. he smells like weed, and cigarettes, & faintly of something musky & aromatic, patchouli or frankincense. he is bigger now that he’s closer, and it makes your breathing even heavier than it already was with your lungs trying to filter the smoke from the air. he’s looking at you likes he’s already planned what he’s gonna do to you, and he already knows you’re gonna let him.

“i could lift you easily. and i think you know it.” he keeps the blunt between his fingers but he brings it to your lips for you, waits for you to inhale before he starts speaking again.

“or hold you down, manhandle you, if that’s what you’re after.” you’re definitely throbbing now, and you’re dumb enough to shift your legs, spreading the wetness that had flourished, calling his eyes to your lap. he shifts even closer when he pulls the blunt away, stretching one arm over the back of the couch behind you.

“i think you’re gross.” you say as you exhale.

“i think you like it.”

you can’t deny it, and he knows it. every bold word that falls from his beautiful lips has your mind spinning. you don’t know what it is about him that you let him talk to you like this, if it were anyone else you would’ve caused a hell of a scene, and rightfully so. maybe it’s just that he’s handsome. maybe it’s because he talks to you like he already knows you. maybe it’s because he knows all the right things to say.

“i don’t even know your name.” you watch as he takes another hit from your roll.

“han.” he leans forward and reaches his other arm around you, closing you into him for a moment as he switches the blunt to his other hand. he’s so close that you can feel the heat radiating off him, static buzzing between your almost touching bodies. although you feel like you’re the only two in the room, you’re thankful you aren’t, reminded to you by the fact that, thanks to the music, he can’t hear how heavily your heart is beating.

“what’s yours?” he frees you from his arms, but stays leaned in close. he asks you in a tone that’s softer than you’d expect him to be capable of, like he actually wants to know you. but you’re not ready to give him any satisfaction.

“none of your business.” again he’s unaffected by your attitude, and you wonder how long he’ll put up with it. it’s a game at this point.

“you know my name.” he’s looking right through you.

“it’s your house. everyone here should know your name.” you hear it as soon as you say it.

“we can arrange that.” his voice is low & ready, sending shocks to your cunt.

“you’re filthy.”

you watch him take another hit, smiling, shamelessly enjoying your weak brattiness now, knowing how close you are to dropping it. you’re so close together he has to be careful not to burn you, tilt his head to the side. he holds his smoke to speak.

“we went over that already, dollface.” he takes your chin gently and brings your lips to his, opening your jaw wide as he exhales his smoke into your mouth, then kissing you deeply. it’s sloppy but he’s coordinated, and you have to exhale through your nose because he’s insatiable, practically devouring you. his lips are better than you could’ve ever dreamed, you can’t help the moan that escapes you. he lets your chin go and the hand falls to your thigh, impressively large and already sneaking under your dress and brushing the brim of your panties.

“han,” you try to speak, but it comes out as a moan when his finger grazes your folds through your thong. he kisses across your jaw, down your neck, sucks your skin into his mouth. your hands fly to his biceps, once again showing you how right he was, how small you actually are.

“there’s people everywhere, they’ll all see.” you gasp as his thick finger enters you, easily sliding in through your slickness. you know you shouldn’t enjoy it, but his filthiness has infected you just that quickly, and you have no intention of pushing him away.

han gives you a soft bite to the neck and lightly groans against you, more than pleasantly surprised with how you soak his finger. he can feel his dick straining against his jeans, eager to drown inside you. his grinning when he responds, ears swallowing up the whimpers you try to hold back.

“let ‘em see. it’s my house. and you like it. don’t you baby?”

#me + using a different format each time i post = <3 #😘😘 sorry 😜#anyways enjoy i fucking love me some modern!han #slutbag #han solo x reader smut #modern!han #han solo smut #han solo x reader

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aziraphales-library · 6 months

Note

Hello! got any recommendations for some first kiss fics based on the trailers? sort of like what people think will happen in s2? preferably no smut!

Hi! Here are some first kiss fics published just before series two was released...

The Memories that Show us the Power of Love by eveningdreamer (T)

Cautiously Crowley stepped forward and looked closer. He gasped as he saw himself. But he looked different; with long hair and dark robes. He was grinning and tapping the angel on the shoulder like they were old friends. Crowley felt a wave of strange emotions. He felt… sentiment? For this moment he could not remember? Crowley's memories are taken away by Hell, and he has been sent to retrieve Gabriel from Aziraphale's shop. Can Aziraphale bring them and Crowley back? Perhaps he just has to show Crowley what he is missing.

Not Ever by GhoulishBastard (T)

Crowley is seen living in his Bentley for the following months as he no longer owns the flat he once had. In refusing to move into Aziraphale's bookshop due to the retired demons own self-loathing and embarrassment, we are met with a rather distant and bored Crowley. Upon stopping by the bookshop for his occasional check in, Crowley is led to share a little more about himself with his angel friend, who is once again requesting him to stay.

Bewitched, bothered, and bewildered by grntair3 (NR)

"Isn't this the one about the fish?" came Crowley’s voice. Aziraphale turned, eyes meeting Crowley's through his lenses before moving on to take in the rest of him. He was wearing a suit he'd never seen before–crisp, black on black pinstripe trousers with a matching jacket that was left undone, accompanied by a buttoned mesh black shirt underneath. Through it Aziraphale could see the smooth skin of his slim frame, from just above his navel to his Adam’s apple. Around his neck lay a thin, rope-like black tie, which only brought more attention to his visible clavicle. Aziraphale felt a rush run over him. "Sorry... what was that?" (aka, Aziraphale throws The Ball)

In Other Words (Baby, Kiss Me) by asparkofgoodness (M)

1:57AM at A.Z. FELL AND CO. by Lupe1987 (T)

crowley and aziraphale get plastered. they get drunk and make bad decisions. aziraphale turns out to be strikingly poetic when he's drunk.

All i want is nothing more than you Lightofonesoul (G)

It a fanfiction about a scene in the opening and that dinner in '41 (that it's in my head) + an addiction 👀 "He met his eyes and again that small pout made him raise his snake eyes to heaven, and to God who had decided to put in his way a creature so extremely... adorable. Again, he found himself doing what his friend wanted. He lifted his left foot, resting it on the towel, and the angel started to look at it. “Mmmh yes, you seem ok.” He said absorbed and then took to turn his foot, here and there to saw if he was really healed. Crowley had said nothing, tried not to move and not look at him, to not to concentrate on his delicate and pleasant touch. To not wander his mind on that contact and that closeness by the one he had wanted for centuries. "Aziraphale usually interrupted those moments of intimacy, as if he snapped his fingers to raise an invisible barrier between them. Crowley looked away for a moment, turning his head to the side and drinking the wine in silence, to give him time to do what he had always done, to save himself from temptation, but that evening it did not happen."

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #first kiss #kissing #good omens s2 #mod d

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chuuyasheaven · 1 year

Note

could you write that massage hc with aku?

Ofc! I’m gonna add Fyodor bcs sm1 asked for him and Nikolai but idk how to write him..

“ Bsd men massaging you but it escalated..? ”

Summary; You massage them, but y’all get horny <3 part two! So enjoy!! (Also using blue now, so whenever you have an brainrot or thirst and you request it, Tell me which color I should use!!!)

Warning; Akutagawa being clueless, Fyodor kinda manipulating the situation, Aku’s is kinda long oops, Ig YOU’RE massaging Aku, Sex???, Reader is gender neutral (afab, uses she/they)!

Akutagawa 🖤:

Being in the port mafia can be really stressful sometimes. And Akutagawa being Akutagawa, he doesn’t ask for any comfort from his partner.

But it’s obvious as soon he gets home, he seemed so..tense? So ofc you approach him, asking if he needed anything.

At first, he doesn’t say anything but after getting a little softer, he stated;

“Well, I suppose a massage would be very nice..” so he sat down on the couch, and you behind him.

You started of soft and started getting closer to his ‘tense’ spot. A sigh turned into a grunt, leaving you by surprise. Seeing the opportunity to whisper something.

“So that’s the spot, to get you start moaning, hm? Let’s see-”, But it didn’t last long bcs you got a phone call.

While you were on the phone, Aku thought to himself how mean you could be. How could you promise to take care of him and then leave him just for something on the phone? Ouch.

He would’ve ignored his desire, if it wasn’t so painfully hard. So hard, that he started to ‘rile you up’ by placing his hand on your thigh. So you notice and ignore it, continuing to talk on the phone. Seeing this, he started to place it further into your thigh. Until it hit your clothed cunt. This made your breath hitch.

Akutagawa likes the reaction. His fingertips brush against your cunt. Almost letting a moan slip, you excuse yourself nicely and hang up.

Akutagawa pinning you down on the couch, he’s still fingering you through your panties. But why are you still just whimpering? He wanted more volume.

“ Oh? Why are you just whimpering? I thought you hung up. Well, anyways, i assume we should pick up where we left off, hm? ”

Fyodor 💜:

Now, come on.

We all know how this would end, now, do we?

Fyodor would notice you more tense than usually. Which didn’t surprise you at all.

But he wouldn’t have helped, even pretend to notice it..what was he trying to do?

“What’s wrong, dove? You seem more stressed lately, would you like me to massage you?” He asked, in a mishivious (Russian) way.

Your naïve self, thinking nothing of it but a nice offer, accept it.

He literally hid his smirk.

You walked towards his direction and sat down on his lap.

As time goes on, Fyodor keeps on ignoring that spot that slightly has been paining you.

You were abt to speak up until he hit it. Finally feeling relaxed, Fyodor keeps on massaging it.

The more he did, the more you started to like it. He was kinda rough at first, then he became more gentle about it.

He began moving down until he got your bra. (you were shirtless btw.)

Fyodor unclapsed it and played with your nipples. While you were growing more desperate, he felt it on his thigh.

You felt his finger go down further on you, he was so close, so close to your panties.

Fyodor noticed, he saw how desperate you were. You finally achieved the state he was looking for.

His finger brushed over your clothed cunt, then:

He stopped. He just stopped.

You whined at the loss of his long, skilled and cold fingers.

“ Look at you, dove. So desperate. Well, sadly I'm not in the mood right now, so i guess you have to walk around in your wet panties for a while. ”

#Akutagawa #akutagawa smut #bungou stray dogs #akutagawa x you #fyodor x you #fyodor smut #bsd

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thelaughtercafe · 2 months

Text

Sell Your SOUL*

Tea Type: Coffee

Potential Triggers: Mildly dubious consent for hypnosis

Pairing: Baggs/Reader

Length: 2.7+

Summary: You are a Human who opens an Empath clinic for monster kind; giving them a safe place to let out any emotions they may be feeling. Unlike the clinical and typically detached touch of therapists, you mirrored their emotions back at them, telling them what you felt, gently whenever possible and occasionally harshly if they refused to acknowledge their pain. Alphys finally allows you to meet Baggs, the one you know let them be released in the first place and you find yourself enraptured...he's just as curious about you. Oops. So much for keeping your distance. An interested doctor is a determined one. Hopefully it'll pay off.

After all...

Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.

It didn't take him long to notice. You tried though.

God, did you try.

You did everything possible to avoid looking at him when he did it. Actually, it was more like you found an excuse to leave altogether the second it began happening.

Becoming friends with monsters was something that came easily to you, being an Empath. Feeling others' pains and helping them through it in any way you could was what you were used to, and loved doing and none needed it more than Monsters when they came to the Surface. While Humans didn’t even consider Empaths real, Monsters had informed you it was actually a well-known and documented form of healing magic that Human’s once possessed long ago. With their help and support you'd even managed to open your own little practice, mainly catering to Monsterkind. Toriel has been the gateway to meeting everyone, but they all had such pain hidden within that you tried to help with. General had been no exception, nor had Undyne, Asgore or Alphys. Alphys...was how you ended up meeting him and experiencing his ability first hand.

-----

Instantly a chill went up your spine. A subconscious warning from your intuition that you should be careful, despite Alphys' introduction.

"Th-This is Baggs! He's really only allowed here for research, a-a-and his home of course, which is w-why you've never met him before on our outings, but t-truth be told, I'd say he spends more time here than home. Always hard at w-work on some e-e-experiment."

Her voice was light and chipper, but you'd come to know her well enough to see the signs of discomfort, the slight tremble of her voice, the stutter that slipped out here and there, and, perhaps most notably, the way she was very carefully avoiding looking Baggs in the eye, despite the skeleton looking directly at her

"I'll l-leave you two to get acquainted and make some tea and snacks alright? I'll be j-j-just in the other room!"

A warning for him and a reassurance for you.

Ouch.

You winced at the literal sting that went to your SOUL, quick and barely there as you pasted on a smile and nodded at her.

"Sure thing, Alph. I'm sure we'll be fine. I'm not worried."

She smiled despite it trembling at the edges and you felt her relax some before she was gone in a swish of fabric.

"not worried? heh. that's cute, for someone who hasn't deigned to meet my gaze yet. scared, little human?"

You weren't sure what you expected his voice to sound like but it certainly wasn't that. Dark, inviting, damn near on the cusp of being outright seductive while somehow still emanating danger.

You shivered and he snickered again.

You swallowed hard, and then you met his gaze, pushing through the shivers you'd just gotten and instead focusing on the pain you felt coming off of him in waves.

"Actually, I was just waiting for you to introduce yourself. I guess I should've gone first though, huh? Sorry. I'm pretty shy on first meetings, the lack of eye contact has to do with that, not because of what you did. If I was scared I wouldn't be here at all."

His expression didn't change but you felt how he was slightly taken aback, then the apprehension and finally the slight twinge of mischievous glee just beneath the surface.

You withdrew your Empathy just a tad. You didn't like going deep into what everyone was feeling without their permission, but you'd accidentally let your guard go up thanks to nervousness.

His eyes were just as pretty as you'd heard. Pink glowed vibrantly from his left eye as he drew closer, smile unflinching.

"you're certainly quite bold for a human. heh heh. or maybe just naive judging by that adorable blush on your cheeks."

You looked away briefly to try and collect yourself, huffing as you realized he was right. You were so focused on feeling your cheeks and calming yourself down you didn't even register your SOUL had been gently pulled from your chest until its purple glow was in front of you.

"hm. that explains it then. but what's-"

His browbones went down in concentration and confusion as he attempted to reach for your SOUL but you were already reacting, swiftly pulling it back into your chest protectively.

"No! I-please. Don't."

His once mildly friendly demeanor had turned to full on mistrust and you could see it from the blue starting to swirl in his left eye socket without any need for your Empathy.

"what are you hiding, little human?"

You merely shook your head, retreating slowly towards the door but you yelped as it abruptly closed without any input that you could see, whirling to see it slam.

You heard a whistle and when you jerked back, Baggs waved the remote with an eerie grin.

Oh, how the tables had turned.

"No offense, sir, but my SOUL isn't any of your business."

His smile widened, yet somehow he only seemed more menacing despite the even, soothing steps he took towards you. They echoed, perfectly in sync and never faltering. His tone sounded genuine but you could feel the underlying condescension and mocking.

"well that's not very nice of you, now is it? i thought you wanted to be friends. i'm merely curious. perhaps i can even help "

You gasped as your back hit the door and he easily caught your chin between his phalanges, and tilted your head to make you look at him, blue and pinknow both swirling evidently in his left eye. his voice was a purr.

"and please, do call me baggs. i much prefer to be referred to with the appropriate amount of reverence when that name is used, and i’ve no doubt you will use it…but not quite yet."

You felt...oddly heavy and the urge to squirm and shiver was palpable. What was happening? You knew you needed to look away, you had to, or else he was going to-

Well, what was the worst he could do? Alphys was just in the other room after all. She'd hear you if anything bad happened. Besides, Baggs was nice. He was handsome. He just wanted to help.

Why were you being so resistant again?

Resistant? Now why would you do that? Baggs was your friend. Don't you confide in your friends?

You searched for something, anything.

Grasped, struggled, for something to lock on to.

Something to feel-

Pure, sadistic, addictive, control

You awoke out of your trance with a gasp violently breaking away from Baggs' grip on your chin before cradling your head, hands shaking, eyes slammed shut and face turned away.

"Don't do that a-again."

You chattered a little, still shivering from the aftershocks of ecstacy forced into you. At least he hadn’t forced you to do anything.

"guess everyone is scared of something after all, hm? pity. i think you're cute when you're all helpless like that, you know. even scared as you are now you're adorable."

Your face lit in flame and the words were the spark you needed to lunge for the door again with a gasp, suddenly recalling the manual switch on the side and nearly bolting out in your haste.

When did you forget? Just how long had he been in your head?

Baggs' alluring laughter followed you all the way to the exit, as did his final words to you.

"see you soon, little human."

-----

Despite your...intense first meeting he hadn't made any effort to antagonize you since when you began seeing him again. He acted as if nothing had happened in fact, merely smiling your way and returning to chatting with Toriel nearby as if you'd had a normal meeting.

Alphys, the only other person who knew vaguely what had happened, as she’d ran out after you, merely sighed.

"A word of advice from someone who's k-known him and worked with him. Don't let him get to you. Or at least, don't let h-h-him know he's g-gotten to you. And...try not to let him do it a-again. It'll just-"

Her voice had quieted conspiratorially with every sentence but she was cut off as familiar bony arms latched around both of your shoulders.

"It'll just what, al?"

His voice was bright but you felt the anger ebbing off him in waves and Alphys abruptly smiled shakily, turning to him in an attempt to not seem afraid.

"you wouldn't happen to be talking about me would ya? haven't ya ever heard-"

"Actually, sounds to me like you misunderstood. You're not interesting enough to warrant talking about Baggs, hate to break it to you. We were talking about a game character. Jeez, are you always so self-centered~?"

Your tone was teasing but your light glare of warning for him trying to frighten Alphys into silence was evident. He didn't seem concerned.

"with a face this handsome? can ya really blame me? anyway, what game? sounds fun."

Alphys was sweating nervously, staring at you wide-eyed but you were quick on your feet.

"Nathan Prescott from Life is Strange. It's choice based, so it's important to not let him know he gets to you or frightens you when he defaces your room in game with a threat. After all, what good is a threat if you don't let yourself be affected by it?"

His eyes lit up then, and you swore you saw his swirl start up, along with the growl that left his lips but Alphys distracted you both by pulling you away.

"Speaking of, I just remembered! We forgot to save! Come on, before Undyne changes the game without realizing!"

You were so proud of her for not stuttering that you missed the swirling eyes following your exit, before he looked down at the object clutched in his digits.

Your phone was held in his grasp, his grin widening as he noticed you didn't have a password.

silly girl.

-----

It didn't take you long to realize your phone was missing, and you told Alphys to go on ahead, and that you'd hang with her later on in the week. Papyrus' car was gone by the time you made it back so he must've gone to drop Toriel and Frisk back home Of course it'd started raining so you were damn near soaked as you knocked.

A few moments later the door opened to a surprised, and then amused Baggs.

"back so soon? told you I was irresistible."

You shook your head, shivering a bit more intensely, making Baggs' eyes immediately scan your body before he grew business-like and moved to walk away.

"come inside, i will make you something warm and then you may take a hot shower. i shall lend you some of my clothes so you do not get sick."

You blinked and then hesitantly entered and nodded, just as you sneezed. Better trust him than get sick right? He was a doctor. He'd been bearable lately; maybe your first meeting had just been a test and you'd passed?

By the time you reached the kitchen he was already setting down a steaming mug in front of you.

"i'll go and get my clothes together. sit tight, and be sure to drink that entirely. it would be a pity if your stubbornness made you ill."

You watched him turn and leave before looking down at the drink in your hands, contemplative. A sip confirmed it was tea, sweet, somehow just as you took it. Paps must've told him about how you always had a mug in your hand. The slight tingle as it went down your throat confirmed it must've been a tea infused with monster magic, which you attributed to be the reason for the extra sweet aftertaste as well. You continued to drink as you let your thoughts take you.

Perhaps General had been right. He'd sensed your nervousness when you'd next seen Baggs while baking cookies with him and had reassured you that his brother was just untrusting of people he didn't know but would warm quickly. Maybe you'd been wrong to be so scared. The propaganda was everywhere; warning of his danger and perhaps you'd taken some of it in subconsciously.

You stifled a yawn and inhaled sharply as when you went to stand and move you swayed; making you grip the table tightly. Familiar fear rushed to the forefront of your mine, one you were used to having around Humans but never with monsters. No. He couldn't have-

"you alright there pet? you're looking a little pale."

His worry was evident and you couldn't help the slight tone of accusation as you sluggishly looked towards him, still not able to move, even as a pleasant shiver shot down your spine at the new nickname..

"What was in that tea?"

He blinked, before a slow smile broke across his face and he casually strode over.

"just a little something to calm you down. the warmth will spread through your system faster if you're calm."

"Why didn't you tell me first then? Or better yet ask? You have to know how this makes you look."

Fuck. Your words were slurring a little, your lips tingling in an almost numb, but not quite way. Everything felt so…hazy.

"how what looks? Giving my shivering friend a warm drink and tucking her into bed, so I know she's safe? it's not as if I drugged you. even small doses of my magic can help soothe. I suppose I overestimated how much you could take, human."

He chuckled, his amusement evident, but you swore you detected worry in his eyes.

"i doubt you can take a shower in this state. come. i'll give you my clothes, leave you to change and then get you settled."

"But- I have to go home."

You tried to protest, struggling to think clearly.

"well, I'm not letting you leave in this state. i'd walk you home if I could but...heh. pretty sure my bro would lose it if i left and he found out later I played hooky. best give in."

You frowned at that, glaring at him as you made to move towards the door.

"Good thing it's not your choice then-"

You were cut off as you were whirled to face him when he grabbed your arm, your equilibrium way off as you struggled to focus on the skeleton in front of you. By the time you realized you were looking directly into his eyes it was too late. That feeling from last time washed over you, blue joining the magenta and spiraling outward. You couldn't deny you felt oddly...safe, and the feeling of his phalanges carding through your hair as you slumped into him was nice.

Baggs is safe, Baggs won't hurt me. Why...am I so tired?

"that's it, good girl. doesn't it feel nicer when you give in?"

Feels...nice. Sleepy. Safe.

You nodded weakly, your filter which would typically make you deny on instinct completely gone. You blushed at your admission and felt Baggs chuckle beside your ear.

"you really do fall quickly for me. how curious. come, let's get you into bed, hm?"

You felt yourself moving and when you all but crumbled into the bed after quickly changing into clothes you didn't bother looking at, you were out like a light to the soothing feeling of bone carding through your hair.

You didn't even hear his parting words before slipping off into unconsciousness.

"what was that you said? what good is a threat if you don't let yourself be affected by it? i think you're right, pet. actions speak louder than words, wasn't that the analogy?"

-----

A/N: There's the first chapter, finally out into the world! So, funnily enough; I've had this fic near done for 2 years now, but just been petrified to publish it for some reason. I think I was panicking over not nailing Baggs as a character well enough, in particular, as well as the way he speaks. Still, I'm glad it's out there now and I can start working on the second chapter- I really hope you all enjoy it!

Please do tell me what you thought; it keeps me writing and motivated as an author!

This fic and also be found at https://archiveofourown.org/works/47766418/chapters/120411676

The amazing (and flustering) Megalosomnia belongs to @megalommi! Please go and shower her in love and adoration <3 This fic would not exist without her!

This is a fic set after Megalosomnia's characters have reached the surface. It's very much non-canon! I don't even believe the creator has brainstormed this portion yet so this is all just me spitballing and having fun with it!

#female reader #tlc: fic #sans x reader #sans x you #baggs x you #baggs x reader #megalosomnia #megalosomnia au #tlc: milk tea #undertale sans #undertale #sans #dr baggs #dr baggs x reader #dr baggs x you #tlc: nsft #tw hypnosis #tw dubcon #tw dubious consent

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