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sl-ut · 6 months

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a prince’s desire

so sorry if this sucks lol I just got really high and wrote this in like 2 hours lolol

pairing: rhaenyra targaryen x fem!pregnant!reader x daemon targaryen

description: after being reunited with her lover, rhaenyra takes her back to dragonstone to join her family and requests that daemon take her as a second wife. now, over a year after the wedding, rhaenyra wants nothing more than to see her wife pregnant, and daemon is more than happy to oblige.

warnings: SMUT, pregnancy, reader gets pretty depressed while she's preggo, mentions of masturbation, angst, slight canon divergence, alcohol consumption, mentions of (consensual) adultery turned polyamory, mentions of death (adult and children :((( ), polygamy, swearing, all other canon warnings (incest (i try my hardest to not lay this one on thick bc ew), violence, sexism, etc)

words: 5K

date posted: 27/03/24

previous installments: a princess's order a lady's demand

After his third marriage, Daemon Targaryen had absolutely no intentions of taking another wife. His history with married life had not necessarily been a good one; Rhea Royce had been nothing but a royal pain in his ass; He’d been happy with Laena, though her life came to an end far too soon; He did love Rhaenyra, though ambition and pride often came between them. Mistresses, sure–Daemon was a rather insatiable man, and Rhaenyra had been almost consistently pregnant during their early years of marriage, but he’d never even once considered that he might have to stand through yet another wedding ceremony, especially one that had been arranged and encouraged by his still living wife and future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

He hadn’t been at all surprised when Rhaenyra confessed to him that she had once loved her childhood friend, nor that she did not think that she would ever truly be able to move past the conflict between them or love another quite the same. Of course, she loved Daemon, and even Laenor and Harwin to some degree, but none would ever stand up to her very first love that she’d allowed to slip through her fingers like running water. He was equally unsurprised to find that she’d not returned to their rooms on their first night back in King’s Landing, nor that she would return in the early hours of the morning with a familiar glow that he’d only seen on her after their own late night activities, especially since he’d caught wind earlier in the evening that Lady Y/n Y/l/n had returned to the capitol a widow.

There were things that he had expected from this relationship; The two would fuck, of course, to make up for lost time, they would spend the majority of their days strolling through the gardens as they had done when they were girls, and Y/n would perhaps even return to Dragonstone with them as her mistress. Daemon could not exactly blame his wife for her affections, Lady Y/n was undeniably beautiful, and he would certainly take her to bed if he were ever given the chance. She could remarry, of course, she was still young and she’d already proven herself to be fertile, even if the children had not survived infancy. Any man would be a fool to turn her away, which is exactly why Daemon found himself standing before her on the black-sand shores of Dragonstone, a chalice between them and blood dripping from either of their lips. Rhaenyra had watched on with glee, rushing forward the moment that the ceremony had been complete to engulf her new wife in a tight embrace, sealing their own union with a firm kiss.

Daemon had not been included in the wedding night activities, though he had been invited to watch, which he did so from the balcony of their chambers in order to give them their own space. Rhaenyra’s body had been glowing in the candle light, curves and smooth, milky skin on display for him and their new wife to admire as they both had time and time again in the past. Daemon could not tear his gaze away from their new wife’s figure, no matter how hard he tried. He blamed it on the novelty of having a new wife, especially one that he was not even able to touch on their wedding night, and he might have reacted the same way if he were to see any woman naked for the first time. He stroked himself on the balcony, low grunts leaving his lips as her moans reached his ears, eyes tracing over her breasts, the pudge of her stomach, the curve of her spine, and–oh… he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a woman’s core glisten like that before, nor had he ever heard such a prominent squelch as the Targaryen princess dipped her fingers inside. He’d always known she was a beautiful lady, but now, oh now he was able to understand to some degree why Rhaenyra was so strongly under her spell.

Just over a year had passed, and Daemon had still yet to enjoy his newest wife to the extent that he would have liked. He did enjoy getting to know her personally, finding her much more amusing than he had expected, and they often found themselves sitting together in the evenings while Rhaenyra was busy with her royal duties. They had kissed each other on several occasions, and she had once allowed him to kneel beneath her skirts one evening after a tad too much wine, but nothing further had developed in their physical relationship.

She had fit into their family easier than any of them could have expected. She was good with the children, taking them all under her wing as if they were her own, though her relationship with both Rhaenyra and Daemons older children was a bit strained in the beginning. Children were a bit of a sore topic for her; She rarely spoke of her own late children, but both Daemon and Rhaenyra could easily tell how broken she was over their deaths. She and Rhaenyra had bonded even more after Rhaenyra had lost her own daughter in labour, all three parties agreeing that Rhaenyra would not have any more children.

That did not change the fact that both Daemon and Rhaenyra could tell that Y/n longed to be a mother once more. She honoured her own boys on their name days, and on the anniversaries of their deaths, but none of Rhaenyra’s children saw her as a mother, nor did she expect them to. They both noticed the way she had this longing stare in her eyes each time that one of the younger children called for their mother, or as Jacaerys and Lucerys slowly grew into young men, as her own children would not be much younger than they are now had they survived their sickness. It was just after the one year anniversary of Daemon and Y/n’s wedding that Rhaenyra proposed to him that they offer Y/n the chance to have another child, as many as she was willing to carry, but of course it would ultimately be her decision; Neither of them were very fussed either way, they both already had a small militia of children of their own, but they would be happy to welcome more into the world, especially if it meant that she would be tied to the Targaryen bloodline through more than marriage.

They waited a while longer to bring this to her, but Rhaenyra had been subtly encouraging her to spend more time with Daemon, and even suggested that they might begin sharing a bed with one another from time to time, whether it be on their own or with Rhaenyra present. She assured her that he was in fact attracted to her, pointing out how she is the one that he stares so longingly at when he watches them together. It was not that Y/n had been opposed to this, she was equally as attracted to Daemon as he was to her, but she had not been with a man since her late husband, and she had not expected to ever take another man to bed again now that she and Rhaenyra were officially together.

The conversation was finally brought to her a month after she and Daemon spent their first night together. They had been intimate, but she had still not allowed him to be inside of her, instead opting to pleasure him with her mouth, hands, and breasts. Rhaenyra whispered in her ear during supper one evening, suggesting that they invite their husband to join them that night, which she excitedly agreed to, completely unaware of what sort of proposition they would offer her, and she was especially surprised at how quickly she consented to their idea.

Rhaenyra had knelt behind her that night, both straddling their husband’s hips as the blonde gripped her wife’s waist to aid her movements, guiding her with every bounce of her long cock and whispering praises into her ear between kisses on her neck. Daemon had been uncharacteristically happy to sit back against the headboard and watch as his wives moved in unison over him, grunting as the tight squeeze of her velvet walls around him. He could hardly pull himself away from her lips, eagerly swallowing every one of her sweet moans as he emptied himself inside of her, sighing as she slumped back against Rhaenyra as she reached her own peak.

They had continued this for months until the maester finally confirmed that Y/n was with child, her skin glowing in delight at the thought of having a child to raise with her husband and wife. By the fifth month of her pregnancy, her stomach had swelled enough to show through her heavy gowns, and her hormones had taken full effect of her everyday life.

If it weren’t bad enough that she was constantly fatigued, or that her feet and back ached, or that her breasts were swollen and tender to the mere brush of her gown against her sensitive nipples, she had also grown to be absolutely insatiable. She found that her thighs were constantly slick with her arousal, and that she was able to bring herself to orgasm in the simplest ways, even by just sitting on certain pieces of furniture. Daemon and Rhaenyra could no longer enjoy bedding her on the same night quite as regularly as before, all because of how regularly she was mewling for them; Daemon had even jokingly suggested that they encourage her maids to pleasure her throughout the day so that they could keep up with her, only to be met with Rhaenyra’s palm slamming into the back of his head. It even came to the point where Rhaenyra felt the need to consult the maester about how regularly all three of them were being intimate together, who advised that, as her pregnancy developed, physical intimacy may result in causing her pain.

Instead, Rhaenyra encouraged her to participate in some “self-care” routines, as she had called them, telling her that pregnancy could cause her to think poorly of herself in many ways, so she thought it best that she take long, hot baths under the candlelight, drink honeyed wine and have her maids soak her in scented oils before taking the initiative to pleasure herself as much as she desired. Daemon had not been so keen on this idea, considering that he was constantly finding her with her hands between her thighs and not allowing him to cut in until she had finished, meaning that she was incredibly sensitive and could not take quite as much as she used to be able to before she began this routine. Even Rhaenyra was beginning to regret it, easily noticing the way that her maids now stared at her longingly, likely having seen and heard her in the throes of self-pleasure more times than they had with her husband and wife involved.

When Rhaenyra brought up her annoyances with Daemon, he had been quick to point fingers, claiming that it was entirely her fault that Y/n had not been seeking them out as much. They both came to the conclusion that they needed to get her out of this habit as quickly as she had gotten into it.

“My love,” Rhaenyra smiled sweetly as she entered her chambers, finding her settled in the bathtub with rose petals floating in the water around her. The water rippled around her rounded belly and breasts as they poked out into the warm air. Rhaenyra thought that she had never looked so beautiful in her life, with the exception of their wedding day. “How do you feel? The maester told me you had a bout of sickness after supper.”

The woman opened her eyes, smiling sleepily at her wife as she knelt at her side, one hand dipping in to feel the temperature of the water, “‘M fine, Nyra. I do not think that mutton agrees with our babe.”

The Targaryen woman laughed, “I’m sorry, my love, I know how you enjoy mutton so. I will instruct the cooks to avoid it until the babe arrives then.”

“It’s alright,” Y/n stroked a hand over her belly, “I would give anything to keep her happy.”

“Her?” Rhaenyra asked, settling her hand on the bump as well, “You expect a girl?”

“I do,” Y/n beamed, “I will be happy either way, but I have a feeling. I know how you long for a daughter, as well.”

Rhaenyra flushed, “You are too kind to me my love. I will be happy with our child regardless of gender, so long as they are a part of the one I love the most.”

Y/n giggled, “Do not let our husband hear you speaking like that.”

“He knows his place,” Rhaenyra chuckled, fingers wandering up to brush against the tender flesh of her breast, smirking to herself at the moan that fell from her wife’s lips at the smallest touch.

Rhaenyra turned her head, finding her maids looking bashful in the corner of the room. They had been witness to Y/n’s pleasure before, but never at the hand of one of her spouses.

“Out,” She commanded, “I will finish my wife’s bath on my own.”

They all hesitated for a moment before nodding, curtsying to both women before rushing out.

“Nyra,” Y/n scolded, “I was about to begin my “self-care”.”

“I can care for you, my heart.” The silver-haired woman cooed as she lowered her hand below the surface of the water, taking little care for the sleeve of her gown as her fingertips found the slick button between her thighs.

“It was your idea, Rhaenyra.” Her voice sounded firmer than before, and her once sleepy eyes had grown hard and accusing.

“A stupid one, I must admit,” She sighed, rubbing small circles into her clit, “I miss how insatiable you once were, how you begged for me to touch you, how you begged for our husband’s cock.”

A flash of sadness appeared on her face as sprung to her waterline, “You were tired of me, you do not want me.”

Rhaenyra stopped her movements, “What?”

A soft sob left her lips, “You asked me to take care of myself. I thought it might have been because you and Daemon were busy, but then I came to your rooms one night and–”

She didn’t need to finish for Rhaenyra to understand. She and Daemon had found it difficult to keep up with their wife’s libido, but once she had begun taking care of herself, they still had their own desires and spent many nights together. Rhaenyra felt stupid for not seeing how this would feel to their wife, let alone now that her emotions were heightened. She had not considered herself unattractive until Rhaenyra asked if she mentioned that self pleasure was beneficial for helping her bodily insecurities, only to find that she and Daemon were continuing to fuck without her on the regular.

Y/n pushed her hand away, sitting up and pulling her knees as close to her chest as her stomach would allow, “Leave me.”

“My love–”

“Please,” Her voice cracked, “Send my handmaidens in, I want to go to bed.”

“Y/n, please let me–”

“Go!” She shrieked, tears now falling down her cheeks readily as she pushed herself out of the water abruptly, “Get out!”

The door burst open, her handmaidens appearing in the room with worried expressions at the sound of their lady’s screaming. They rushed forward, helping her step out of the tub and wrapping her in her favourite silk robe.

Rhaenyra watched as she stumbled away, ignoring the water dripping from her as she crawled onto the bed, the most heart-wrenching sobs leaving her lips. The Crown Princess did not want to leave, longing to go after her and make her understand, but the guilt that began to force itself up her throat was too much to bear. Without another word, she pushed through the doorway and into the corridor, rushing to find Daemon.

Y/n did not leave her chambers for three days. She had breakfast, tea, and dinner in her rooms with no company except for her handmaidens. She refused to allow Rhaenyra or Daemon in to see her any time that they had come to visit, even when they each tried to assert their rank over her handmaidens. She was now almost seven months into her pregnancy, and she was continuously wondering to herself how she had let herself be talked into another child. She wept day and night, countless apologies leaving her lips to her late children, begging for their forgiveness and cursing Rhaenyra and Daemon for bringing her walls down so much that she had allowed herself to be in the position to potentially lose yet another child.

On the fourth day, Rhaenrya had decided that enough was enough, and used the secret passageway into her wife’s room. When she found her, she felt her heart clench in her throat, finding her still in nothing but the silk robe that she’d left her in four days earlier, curled in a ball on her favourite sofa and staring blankly out the window. How had she allowed herself to hurt the one person she loved above all else again after vowing to protect her heart with her entire being?

“My love,” Rhaenyra called out, closing the hidden door behind her. She frowned when she was met with complete silence, “My love, can you hear me?”

“What is it, Your Grace?”

Rhaenyra cringed, having only heard Y/n speak to her so formally when she was truly angry with her. “The maester told me you have not slept or eaten in two days. It is not good for the child.”

Y/n scoffed, “The babe.”

“It is not good for you, either, my love.”

Rhaenyra knelt in front of her, hands cupping her cheeks and grimacing at how cold she felt. Rhaenyra had gone to Daemon that night, her pale cheeks flushed red and wet from her tears as she paced for hours, wondering how they would be able to make things right with her–how had she let this happen? How could she make her feel unloved by the two people who loved her more than anything?

“Please look at me,” She whispered, head ducking to meet her hollow gaze. “I’m not sure how I can make you feel how deeply angry I am with myself. I am so, so sorry, my love.”

Y/n sniffled, but did not respond.

“May I explain myself?” Rhaenyra waited for her weak nod before she continued, “I did not mean to make you feel unwanted, by any means. You are sweet, and good, and beautiful, and I could never imagine a world where I would not want you. Daemon and I–we cannot excuse ourselves, but we can explain. We were concerned for you, for how often we were bedding you. The maester told us that we could hurt you, which is why I suggested what I did. I did not mean to imply that we did not want you. In fact, we wanted you so deeply that we turned to each other for the first time in so long because we thought you were more comfortable with taking care of yourself.”

Y/n shook her head, “I only did it because that’s what I thought you wanted.”

“I could never not want you, my beautiful wife.” Rhaenyra pressed a kiss to her clammy cheek.

“I must admit,” Y/n laughed bitterly, “I began to believe after some time that I had become a concubine for you both.”

“I do not think it is custom to love one’s concubine, my sweet.” Rhaenyra chuckled, then turned sombre when she took note of her expression, “My love, else bothers you?”

“I do not want to have another child,” Y/n whispered, “I feel almost as if I am betraying my boys. I will love this child with all of my heart, and nothing makes me more happy than to be tied to you both through blood, but I will not have another.”

Rhaenyra sighed, “I am sorry if you have felt pressured by us.”

“I haven’t,” She shook her head, “But I have done some thinking over the past two days. I have been happy here, and I do want this child, but I’m not sure that I can handle another. This child is a sibling, but to have two, it feels like I am replacing them, and to me they are completely irreplaceable.”

Rhaenyra kissed her head, “You will not have to. I will speak to Daemon, and the maester. We will make sure that this is your last pregnancy.”

“You don’t think that Daemon will be upset with me? He won’t want any more children?”

“If he is, then perhaps we would need to rethink how many people we want in this marriage, don’t you think?”

This made Y/n giggle, and it was like music to Rhaenyra’s ears. She finally leaned into her, wrapping her arms around Rhaenyra’s middle and nuzzling into her neck. Rhaenyra gladly held her, running her fingers through her hair affectionately as she began to notice her breathing grow heavier.

“You must be tired, my sweet,” Rhaenyra turned her head to look at her, “Why don’t you have a bath while I go find you some supper, then you can rest.”

“Will you stay with me while I sleep?” She murmured.

Rhaenyra kissed her lips softly, “Of course I will.”

When Y/n woke up, Rhaenyra was still at her side, her long fingers stroking Y/n’s swollen belly over her thin nightgown.

“Good morning, my love,” She greeted with a small smile.

“Evening, you mean,” Y/n had not even noticed that Daemon had occupied the space behind her in the bed until he spoke up, his own hand reaching around to lay on top of Rhaenyra’s on her belly.

Y/n leaned back into him, sighing at the warmth being emitted from his firm chest, “How long was I sleeping?”

“Almost a day,” He kissed her temple to soothe her as she cried out in surprise, “But you needed it.”

“It’s true,” Rhaenyra affirmed, “You were awake for two days straight. I’ll call your ladies, you must be starving.”

“I am,” Y/n trailed a finger up her arm, “But not for food.”

Rhaenyra shook her head as Daemon chuckled at their wife, “My love, you are very weak right now–”

“Neither of you have touched me in almost two months,” She whined, “Please.”

The two Targaryens shared a glance over her shoulder, Daemon shrugging in response to Rhaenyra’s concerned look.

“Alright,” She finally conceded, “But you must lie there, let us take care of you.”

The woman eagerly nodded, excited whimpers falling from her lips from the slightest drag of Daemon’s lips against her jugular, his fingers pulling the strap of her nightgown down over her shoulder to expose one of her tender breasts. Rhaenyra was quick to pull her into a kiss, tongue forcing itself past her wife’s lips and swallowing every sound she made, her nimble fingers twisting her perky nipple gently.

Everything moved in a blur for Y/n over the next few moments, somehow finding herself now on her back, knees bent as her nightgown was rucked up to settle over her swollen belly, Rhaenyra wasting little time in dragging her tongue torturously through her folds, which had already been dripping with her sweet nectar from the moment that she had woken up. Her cheeks felt warm, embarrassed at how sensitive and wet she’d been before either of them even touched her and at how quickly she was able to feel herself at her peak.

At her side, Daemon was needy for her attention. He tucked two fingers under her chin, quickly turning her head to capture her lips in a warm and messy kiss. Her own eager fingers quickly found the laces of his breeches, tugging at them until they were just loose enough to slide her hand inside and take hold of his rapidly hardening member, their sighs of pleasure being lost in one another’s mouths as she slowly pumped him until he was completely hard, whining in protest as he pushed her touch away.

“Patience, sweet one,” He tsked at her, instead turning his attention to suckling at her breasts, tugging her other strap down to release both of her heaving tits to his mercy.

The wave crashed over her before she could comprehend it, eyes rolling back as neither of them made any move to slow or stop their ministrations as they each licked and sucked at her most sensitive parts until she was trembling with aftershocks.

“Do you think she is ready for me?” Daemon peered down at Rhaenyra, who had continued to lick at her clit softly.

She grinned up at him, “More than she’s ever been.”

He chuckled, reaching his hand down to feel her wetness for himself with a wicked glint in his eyes, “Perhaps we should deprive our needy little wife more often if it means she will always be this responsive.”

Rhaenyra frowned, “You are bold to assume that either of us will be able to resist for so long ever again, husband. I’m certain that I can’t.”

“Perhaps I merely need to be reminded, I may not have my wits about me.”

Within seconds, his clothes had been completely removed and was was dragging her by the ankles until her bum was hanging off the edge of the mattress and he was pressed tightly between her legs. Meanwhile, Rhaenyra had helped her slide her shift off over her head, leaving her completely bare to her husband and wife.

Her back arched off of the bed as Daemon notched the head of his member against her entrance, easily slipping inside with a drawn out moan, eyes closed as he relished in the feeling of her silky walls throbbing around him.

“See how he desires you?” Rhaenyra whispered to her, “You make him weak, he belongs to you. We belong to you.”

She nodded, watching in awe as Rhaenyra’s slender neck was engulfed by their husband’s fingers, his meaty fist forcing her to meet his hard kiss as his spare hand slid beneath Y/n’s hip and flipped her onto her side, barely missing a beat as he threw her top leg over his shoulder and sped up his thrusts.

Rhaenyra grinned into the kiss, reaching up to slide her middle and index fingers into her wife’s mouth, slowly thrusting them in and out until they were dripping with her saliva. Carefully, she moved them down and began circling them around her untouched hole, feeling the snug ring of muscles tighten and release under her touch. The sloppy juices of her release had dripped down and provided an extra lubricant as one of her long fingers dipped inside, stilling for a few moments to allow her to adjust to the intrusion before she pressed the second in as well. Her movements were slow, not wanting to force the tightness of her ass and further than she already was, especially with the force of Daemon’s thrusts into sweet cunt.

Mere moments passed before her second release began bursting out of her core and splashing against Daemon’s stomach, the warmth of her juices bringing him to his own climax. She allowed him to keep forcing himself into her abused hole before she was pressing her foot flat into his shoulder to push him away.

“Look at her,” Rhaenyra murmured to him, smirking down at her wife’s trembling body, “Look at how needy she is for us. We belong to her, but she is ours alone.”

Daemons slowly allowed his cock to slide out of her, falling down to poke at her asshole as Rhaenyra pulled her fingers out. The future queen slid from the mattress, disappearing out of Y/n’s sight as Daemon huddled overtop of her, pressing warm kisses across her neck and chest. He pulled back as Rhaenyra reappeared next to her, wiping her hands clean with a wet cloth before she made quick work of wiping the pregnant woman’s sensitive cunt clean as Daemon readjusted his breeches as she moved across the room to sit by the burning fireplace.

Rhaenyra helped her wife move back up to lay against her pillows, tucking her in beneath the soft sheets. She crawled in next to her, pressing her lips to her forehead and chuckling when Rhaenyra felt her tugging at her skirts.

“I am alright, my heart,” She pushed her hands away, “You should rest. We will call for your supper.”

Y/n nodded, a touch disappointed that she hadn’t been able to taste her wife’s delicious cunt, but her sadness faded as she felt her eyes fluttering shut, lulling her into a deep sleep as she huddled closer to Rhaenyra’s chest.

#reader insert #x reader #imagines #house of the dragon spoilers #house of the dragon #house targaryen #hotd rhaenyra #rhaenyra is a gay icon #rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon x rhaenyra #daemon targeryan #daemon x reader

1K notes · View notes

sturnioloarchive · 6 months

Note

Can you please do something, with Matt teaching the reader how to finger herself? 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

"𝑵𝑶𝑻 𝑺𝑶 𝑰𝑵𝑵𝑶𝑪𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑨𝑵𝒀𝑴𝑶𝑹𝑬" 𝑴.𝑺

❥ 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 : 𝑷𝒐𝒓𝒏 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂 𝒑𝒍𝒐𝒕, 𝑭𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒃𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒉𝒂𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒆𝒙𝒖𝒂𝒍 𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒐𝒘, 𝑺𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝑶𝒓𝒂𝒍 (𝒇𝒆𝒎 𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈) 𝒍𝒎𝒌 𝒊𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒔 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆

❥ 𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 1 : 𝑴𝒚 𝒂𝒔𝒌𝒃𝒐𝒙 𝒊𝒔 𝒐𝒏 (𝒐𝒃𝒗), 𝒔𝒐 𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒖𝒚𝒔 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕, 𝒑𝒍𝒔 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒔, 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒑, 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖!!

❥ 𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 2 : 𝑯𝒊 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏, 𝒕𝒚𝒔𝒎 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕

༺୨♥︎୧༻ ༺୨♥︎୧༻ ༺୨♥︎୧༻ ༺୨♥︎୧༻ ༺୨♥︎୧༻ ༺୨♥︎୧༻

You and Matt have been dating for almost three months now, never done anything really sexual

except the making out between the two of youBut you wanted to try, you wanted to please him, and yourself.

So thats why this happened

Matt, Chris and Nick were just done filming the new Wednesday video, you were in Matt's room.

Sitting there and reading some new book you got, while listening to some music in your headphones.

You saw a text from Matt, "Are you still up?"

You answered with a yes, after five minutes, Matt came in the room.

Locking the door behind him, because Nick and Chris love to just come without knocking.

You took out your headphones when you saw him, stopping the song, and closing your book.

"Hi pretty baby" He came close to you, laying down on the bed beside you.

"Hi" you said shyly, kissing him on the cheek, and he returned the favor.

"Was everything alright with the filming?"

"Yeah, it was, what about you hm?" Matt looked straight into your eyes, smiling.

"Ive been reading and listening to music, for 3 hours straight" you smiled back at him, getting closer to him so you can hug him.

"Yeah? What were you reading baby" he asked, curious.

"Book" you said quickly while blushing.

"Yeah, obviously" Matt chuckled while looking at you.

"Anyways, uh.." nervously you started picking on your nails.

"Whats wrong?" he looked at you worried

"No..never mind,"

"Cmon y/n, tell me." Matt demanded.

"You know..ive never done, uh-anything, sexual.." You now avoided his gaze, blushing madly.

"Yeah, what about that hm?" He asked teasingly, he knew what exactly you meant.

"Neither with myself neither with..you" looking up at him for a second, then you looked away once again.

"Want me to teach you baby?" You nodded.

"I-if you want to.." he smiled at your sudden shyness.

Then he started kissing your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses, here and there.

You whimpered from the feeling of his lips, on your hot skin.

"Gonna teach you first, how to touch your little pussy" he murmured against your neck.

"Y-yeah, okay" whining, when he bit your neck slightly.

"Yeah? C'mon," he said while addressing you to remove your clothes, and you did, first your top and then your shorts.

"lay between my legs." He started positioning you two, your head laying against his chest, and your legs spread over his legs.

"Give me your hand sweet girl" he placed a quick peck on your cheek.

You gave him your hand, his own laying on yours.

"Now" placing your hands on your pussy, "Gonna touch your clit first okay?" You nodded.

"Pl-please Matt" he smirked from your neediness.

"Such a needy baby, having me teaching her how to, touch herself. Because shes too dumb to find out alone hm?" He started motioning your hand with his

On your clit, rubbing slowly.

"F-fuck yes! Please matt" you let out a small moan, when the pace went to fast from slow.

"Shh, im right here, gonna give you what you want" he kissed your forehead sweetly.

You felt your stomach tightening, and you moaned out louder.

"M-matt i-i think" closing your eyes shut, you whimpered.

"Gonna cum? Go on baby, cum." And you did, moaning out his name.

He continued rubbing your clit, you tried to jerk your hips away, from the over stimulation.

"No, no," he slaped your clit slightly, making you whine.

"Now youre going to finger yourself." Placing your hand between your hole.

"Start with the middle fingers first," you started putting your middle finger inside slowly, whining from the slight burning feeling.

"Good girl, now that you're done, start pushing it in and out, to stretch yourself" you started pushing it in and put, the feeling slightly pleasurable.

"Curl your finger up." You listened to him, curling it up, you breath out shakily.

"Feel good, no? Try putting another one." You nodded against his chest, starting to put in your ring finger.

Whimpering from another stretch, you started pushing your fingers in and out.

Curling them up as matt said.

"Good baby, always listening to me." He said stroking you hair.

"M-matt it-it doesn't feel that good.." you pouted.

"No?" How about i do it instead yeah?" You nodded slightly, getting your fingers out of your pussy.

"Give me your fingers babe" you did, confused.

Them he sucked on your fingers, cleaning them up.

You whimpered from his actions.

"Pl-please" he stopped sucking on your fingers, and chuckled.

"Shh, here, relax now okay? Gonna start with one finger" nodding, you spread out your legs more.

He then started rubbing your, leaky hole. Drawing small circles

"D-dont tease" you closed your eyes shut, and whined.

He chuckled at that

"Easy now, here" he now starting pushing his middle, finger inside your cunt.

You moaned softly, from the feeling of his much longer and thicker fingers.

He started pumping it in and out, circling your clit with his thumb.

Your hips started chasing his hand.

"M-more-nghh-Matt please" you needed more, more of him.

And then he started pushing his, ring finger too. Pumping in and out. His pace getting faster.

The room was filled with filthy sounds

Your slick cunt, your whimpers and moans.

And his heavy breathing.

"You gonna cum, sweetheart? Huh?, can feel your pretty pussy. Tightening around my fingers." Matt kissed your cheek after the last word.

You nodded at that, feeling a new feeling.

"I think-i think" you were a whining mess, under his control.

"Go on baby, just let out." He chuckled and pumped his fingers, in and out

Faster, and his assault on your clit getting harder.

You moaned his name out loudly, when you came, for the second time.

"Good girl, my pretty baby, you did so good." Matt praised while kissing you.

He then removed your fingers from your cunt

And licked & sucked them clean.

You whimpered at the sight before you.

"Taste so good baby, gonna let me have a proper taste? Hm"

"Y-yes please Matthew" he smirked at your desperation.

He then, pushed you gently, and laid you down. On the bed.

Going between your legs and spreading them open.

"Ready?" You nodded

He licked a long stripe from, your hole to your clit.

Sucking on your clit, you tried to close your legs, but matt hiked them around his shoulders.

"M-matty! F-fuck feels so good" he started sucking more, from your words

He pulled out slightly and collected saliva, spitting on your clit.

He looked up at you, and started shaking his head into your pussy.

His long tongue doing magical things, that has your legs shaking.

Soon you felt that feeling again.

"M'gonna cum!" He groaned into your cunt.

"M-matt!" You moaned out his name, like a mantra.

Soon after, you suddenly came, hard.

Squirting into his face, you blushed at this

"S-shit matt! I didn't meant to-" he kissed your clit, and then pulled back.

"You're doing this shit again." He bite his bottom lip slightly

"But-" looking at him.

"Not a question ma."

༺୨♥︎୧༻ ༺୨♥︎୧༻ ༺୨♥︎୧༻ ༺୨♥︎୧༻ ༺୨♥︎୧༻ ༺୨♥︎୧༻

🎀 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒊𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒔 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈. 𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆.

𝑹𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒂𝒔𝒌𝒃𝒐𝒙 𝒊𝒔 𝒐𝒏 :3 🎀

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #female reader #nick sturniolo #mega katya44 #matt sturniolo x fem reader #matt sturniolo smut

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hello-eden · 2 months

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Unexpended Hope 2

part one

Tim wanted to lay at home at the Manor on the couch and work on his case. He hates galas. He's the best at them but that does not mean he likes it. Dick realizes that Damian's been missing for over a hour so Tim volunteered to go look for him.

He's checked the entire floor above, the cameras in the lobby and he just gets up the stairs for the next floor when he sees him. Tim almost doesn't recognize him for a minute. He has a small smile and is talking with his hands, which is something Damien never does but everything else about him is the same. Damien is talking to someone that Tim can't see.

There's no place to really hide over here so he just stand in the stairway and wait to be noticed. It took a lot longer than Tim thought it would be noticed but in that time he sees the person that Damian's talking to.

It's a girl.

Tim was not expecting to find Damien with someone let alone a girl. Damien seems to be enjoying whatever they are talking about but that doesn't make it any less unusual. She's auburn hair braided out of her face in a teal mid length dress with black accents.

What surprises him the most other than the fact that she is not flinching away from Damien is that she's wearing Damien’s suit jacket. It's about 5 minutes before either of them notices that he's in front of them.

The two of them exchange a look and then Damien seems to go back to his normal self. he's scowling he's glaring at him like he usually does and he has no signs of what Tim's assuming was happiness that he had seconds before.

“Drake, is there a reason you are here?” Damien sneered at him.

“You've been missing from the party for almost 2 hours. We came looking that you didn't kill anyone” Tim responded back.

The girl that Damien was talking to started to giggle. Instead of glaring at her, Damien tried to pinched her without looking away from Tim. The girl slapped Damian's hand away before he could actually do it.

“Who's your friend?” Tim questions refusing to be the one to break eye contact with Damien first.

“Sarah Lauren” the girl replies, snapping in front of their eyes and then holding out a hand for him to shake.

He does.

“you're Byron Lord Huron's daughter right Bruce was just talking to him when I left” Tim smiles his best socialite smile.

it's probably useless now that she's seen him interact with Damian but it's better to be polite. Sarah seems to twitch after he said that. if he wasn't trained as well as he was he wouldn't have noticed.

“If we are done with this Dreadful small talk” Damian brings the attention back to himself. If Tim didn't know any better he would think it would stop Sarah being uncomfortable. “is my presence required back at that Useless occasion.”

“Bruce Needs you for something” Tim says trying not to mention what it was in front of the obvious civilian. There isn't anything Cape related but he'd prefer to have Damian alone to talk to him and that would be going much easier if Damien thought it was a cape thing.

“lead the way back to those horrid party guests.”

Tim does move to leave them back to the party going ahead in front of them but definitely listening to whatever they're going to say behind him

“How do you know him?” Sarah asks Damian. Damien didn't instantly introduce himself as a Wayne? That's different or does she not know anything about the Wayans and she just didn't put it together.

“Third brother” Damien replies.

“Third brother, how many siblings do you have?” Sarah questioned

Tim needed to talk to Dick about this. He's the one who keeps up with Damien's social life; he'd know what is going on.

#reincarnated danny #reincarnated sam manson #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #danny fenton #dc x dp crossover #batman #batfam #batfamily #dcxdp

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hildergard · 2 months

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A GENTLE HAND ★ AEMOND TARGARYEN

SUMMARY | "Gentle Hand," Mylenda insists on calling you, and perhaps that is what you are destined to be, perhaps that is what Prince Aemond needs.

PAIRING | Aemond Targaryen x Maid!Reader

TAGS | Mention of sexual assault and abuse, mommy issues, angst and light fluff.

WORDCOUNT | 10k

NOTE | This is my first fanfiction on this website. Ewan Mitchell plays such a fascinating Aemond that I had to write this. I hope it's any good. Tell me if I should write a part 2! <333

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

The roebuck’s blood turned your fingers sticky and the knife handle slippery.

Brought by the royal hunters that very morning, the poor creature now lay on the counter of the Red Keep’s kitchens between the dismembered rabbits and the plucked ducks. It had only taken you a few cuts to skin the beast⏤practice makes perfect.

The flesh was now raw and spilling its bloody perfume. You grabbed a thyme leaf from one of the bouquets garnis picked for the mutton stew and pressed it against your nose to soothe your nostrils, assailed by the disturbing scent of game⏤a full-bodied mixture of earth and wildness. Above this acrid aroma, death distilled its powerful bouquet and turned your stomach. It had been years since you entered the service of the Crown and yet the disgust never vanished.

"She's coming," a small voice yelped from the kitchen entrance.

A murmur passed through the crowd of maids. All around you, they hurried their movements. Two tables away, Cass grimaced and hurriedly threw the pieces of mutton into a large pot before drowning them in wine. You met Dacey's panicked gaze as she hastened to peel potatoes. The blade of the knife slipped and nicked at her palm, but she had no time to care or feel.

Nothing mattered when Mylenda was around.

You straightened up and slipped the thyme leaf into your apron pocket. Your knife took no time to sever the roebuck’s tendons, spread the muscles, scrape the bones and, finally, dislocate the shoulder with a clean cut. The second limb followed immediately afterwards.

Heavy footsteps echoed through the kitchen and rattled the pans. The strong, greasy smell of venison, which had been bothering you all morning, disappeared at this familiar noise. Your fingers tightened around the handle of your knife as you stuck it in a leg.

One piece of meat wasted and your head would be chopped off.

"Is that venison ready, girl?" the matron’s voice grated against your eardrum. "It shouldn’t take you hours to cut up a poor carcass. I taught you better. Has my absence made you lazy? You know what happens to slackers."

You shook your head.

"Sorry, ma’am."

She grabbed your hand. The knife fell with a sharp clang, silencing all movement in the vicinity. Pots and pans, chopping boards and spits were cast aside. Amidst this deathly silence, all eyes fell on you.

"These are no hard-working hands. No, they're not… Next time I see you, I'd better see blisters on your lazy palm. Such… Such gentle hands in my kitchen," she scoffed, "Even whores get rougher skin jerking off cocks."

You flinched.

"You better start working harder, got it?"

Terror ran through you. You nodded frantically before wrenching your hand from her grasp and cradling your clenched fist against your heart.

Mylenda muttered something you did not care to hear, your ears deaf to anything but the frantic pounding of your heart against your temples. You looked down and immediately came across the beast's eyes, sitting in a clay bowl and reminiscent of the pile of gooseberries that would be used as a sauce for the chops. You could almost taste the delicious berries on the tip of your tongue.

Your stomach rumbled.

If the old woman heard it, she said nothing, too busy assessing your work.

"The cut could be cleaner," she criticised, "but I don't suppose the royals will mind when the meat crumbles into the stew. You're lucky we're not roasting it. You’re as tactful as a headsman, girl. You’re not cutting off a thief’s neck but the King's dinner. You better fix that."

"Yes, ma’am."

Your gaze fell even lower, to the hide piled up in a jumble on the floor. You were hoping to make a coat out of it this evening, in the privacy of your little bedroom. The air was getting colder and colder and your cotton dress would soon no longer suffice. Gilliane, like a true Northerner, kept saying that winter was coming.

Whatever that meant.

You kicked the skin under the table and prayed to the Seven Gods that Mylenda would not see it.

"Once you've finished cutting it up, you’ll make a terrine from the legs and shoulders," she ordered. "The Hand loves it. And don't forget to cook the guts. I ain’t letting a plump liver like that go to waste. Must’ve been a brave beast, that one," the matron said as she struck the bloody organ with pride. "A persillade should do. The mutton stew will be the main course."

You nodded and swallowed down your bile. The rancid scent of the old woman rivaled with the earthy exhalations of the venison.

"Back to work, girl."

With these words, Mylenda left to go and torment Cass, who was struggling to cook the mutton. Bubbling wine stained the sides of the copper pot and evaporated on the flame.

"Gi' me that. I'll carve it up for ya."

Someone snatched the knife out of your hand. You lifted your head and found Gilliane beside you, her gaze riveted on the matron who had turned crimson from screaming at poor Cass.

"Gentle hands... Gentle hands... I’ll tell her what I think of her hands. I'd love to see them so-called palms wrinkled wi' effort. I've never seen her hold no knife since I arrived," she mumbled.

Her defence warmed your heart.

"Tek care o' them offal ‘fore the old cow decides to serve yer kidneys wi' mustard instead," she whispered. "She'd get a kick outta that, that madwoman."

"Do you think she can smile?" you asked.

"Gods, no," she scoffed. "She was born wi' pursed lips and that ugly wrinkle between her eyebrows."

You both laugh before returning to your tasks. Gilliane was busy carving up the rest of the venison so you concentrated on the liver and the parsley. The smell of garlic and herbs wafted out of the mortar in front of you and made your mouth water as you added a pinch of salt and a spoonful of oil.

For a second, you dreamt of being a lady and imagined tasting these exquisitely flavoured dishes. The soup⏤more water than broth⏤and the stale bread you were entitled to once the service was over were intended to feed you, not to please. This right was reserved for people of good breeding.

In the corner of your eye, you saw Mylenda stopped to face Hendry, a little boy of just thirteen who had joined you a month earlier. It wasn't unusual for people to sell their children in exchange for a new cart or some meat. Sometimes, mothers would lay their babies outside the gates of the Keep and pray that the place would blossom into a better life. From here, you could see the boy's pale complexion and shaking shoulders. The plate he was cleaning was dangerously close to falling. You prayed to the Gods to spare this child from the wrath of the woman next to him.

"The King's dinner my arse..." you grumbled as you started to dice the liver. "She doesn't give a damn about doing His Majesty a favour as long as she can torture us."

"What's worse is she doesn't realise that she doesn't need t'beat us. Just a whiff of her rotten breath and believe me, even the worst brigand would fall to their kn–"

Oswell Pyne stormed into the kitchen, his fist wrapped around the arm of a weeping Prudence.

You dropped the pestle at the sight of her swollen face. Her milky complexion faded into a mass of frightening bruises. The purple and blue weren't enough to hide the drops of blood beading at her temple and the edges of her lips.

What had this poor girl fallen into?

You immediately abandoned your post⏤to hell with the damn parsley⏤and tried to make your way through the other servants who had gathered at the entrance to the kitchens, just as eager to find out more. Gilliane insulted two or three of them, who immediately moved aside for fear of poking the Nordic woman and having to face her coarse tongue.

"Steward Oswell," Mylenda stammered. "To what do I owe your visit? You don't normally drop in until dinnertime, which, if I'm not mistaken, doesn't start for another two hours."

She turned to the maid, whose sobs had worsened at the sight of the old hag. Her headdress had been ripped off and her blonde hair was falling in knots over her tiny shoulders.

"Prudence, what have you done, girl?" she asked dryly. "Oh, sir... I hope she didn't cause you no trouble. My girls usually know how to behave."

"Well, it seems Prudence here has seen fit to answer back to His Majesty."

The whole kitchen fell in an uproar.

Mylenda, who ruled with an iron fist over the henhouse of the Red Keep’s maids, harped on to you all day long about the importance of keeping quiet. You still remembered your first day in the service of the Crown and the words she had screamed…

"Maids can gossip all they like in the kitchens, Gods know stirring a stew for two hours can put even the most seasoned of maids to sleep, but if I catch any of you uttering a single word outside these walls, they will be punished. The Lords don't need to be reminded that we exist. As soon as you stop smelling the kitchens, you shut up."

Shivers ran down your spine.

"Obviously," the steward continued, heedless of the chaos his words had unleashed, "Prudence didn't care about the repercussions such disastrous behaviour might have on the maids. Or on Mylenda herself. Am I right, girl? Own up your mistake."

He shook Prudence's arm and she let him, her chin trembling. You wanted to slap that horrible man, to make him swallow his arrogant smile, but what could you do but stand by and watch this horrifying spectacle?

Next to you, Gilliane cursed against the matron and the steward. Her insults were drowned out by the whispers of the other maids. Cass, her apron still stained with wine, was turned towards Ellyn, the baker. Even Hendry had leaned over to Dacey and was whispering something in his ear.

"Quiet, girls!" Mylenda shouted before turning back to Prudence. "Well, what are you waiting for? Speak up! For Gods’ sake, what's got into you?!"

"He... He tried to... To... I didn't want to... My father... he would have... No... I couldn't..."

Your heart fell into your stomach. Of course. You closed your eyes and breathed in to try and silence the flicker of indignation blossoming inside. The hubbub around you increased. Several girls gasped. A few had the courage to protest. Next to you, Gilliane grunted and clenched her fist.

How many more maids would have to suffer the same fate before someone took action? How many young girls would have to be broken, their prospects dripping down their aching thighs, because of the animal urges of one and the same man?

"And that gives you the right to answer back to the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms?" the steward growled. "You fool!"

The memory of Dyana still haunted the kitchens. No one dared mention her name for fear of invoking her tormentor, whom the aromas of poppy and dirty gold could not mask. How naive you had been to think this had been enough to keep him out… The executioner had invited himself into your ranks and was sowing his eternal seeds of destruction. Again and again and again.

Such was the luck of Targaryens and their royal blood while the small folk picked up the pieces and healed the wounds. Spoilt blood flowed and flowed and flowed without a care in the world. Who would stop the bleeding? Were we destined to die, our empty bodies turned towards the gold-covered hands that held the knife?

"I understand Prudence was to be one of the cupbearers at tonight's dinner. You can understand why the King would be... offended if he had to endure the sight of that... that seductress while he ate his meal. Would he not?"

Ashamed, the old woman grumbled under her breath, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Mylenda only cared about her reputation. She forgot that, like all of you, she was nothing. You frowned, disgusted by this dishonourable but not in the least surprising display.

"Of course, sir! Come here, girl!" Mylenda barked at Prudence before grabbing her hair and pulling her forward. "I'll show you what I do to maids who dare to talk back! You'll be sorry you didn't let the King get his way!"

Next to you, Gilliane took a step forward, ready to fight, but you held her back before she too sealed her fate. You had seen what happened to girls who dared to speak out and you didn't want to see your friend beaten to death by a stick.

Mylenda's crazed gaze swept across the assembly before coming to rest on you. She pointed at you with her bony finger.

"You! Gentle Hand! You'll be the cupbearer in Prudence’s stead. I hope you fill glasses better than you cut meat. I will not be humiliated any further by one of my maids. You will behave yourself and do me honour. Got it?"

You paled and glanced around in panic, but the other maids lowered their heads, happy not to have been chosen. Nobody wanted to be the cupbearer. Not since the coronation. Standing for hours enduring King Aegon's indecent babblings, his lips loosened by the acrid taste of wine, was an ordeal you all sought to avoid. Until now, you had managed to escape it, eternally hidden behind the steaming pots.

The Gods had now taken away your chance and were throwing you into the dragon pit.

You stammered incomprehensible words, pointing to the pieces of liver ready to be cooked, but Mylenda would have none of it and glared at you until you bowed your head and admitted defeat.

Oswell stood next to the matron, staring at you with his nose turned up⏤like watching an insect, you realised. He finally nodded and left the kitchen, slamming the door behind him.

His departure set off a firestorm. Gilliane turned sharply towards you, her grey eyes ablaze with rage.

"One day, I’ll gut him like a pig," she spat. "Mylenda. Oswell. They're rats, all of 'em."

You watched as the others busied themselves around Prudence. Cass wrapped a cloth around her shoulders and led her to a chair. Ellyn handed her a loaf of bread and forced her to eat before bringing a glass of water to her bruised lips.

"Poor girl," Gilliane continued but you were listening with a distracted ear. "She's far too good to work here. I'll pray t'the Old Gods for her tonight. Maybe they'll hear me and get her outta this hell ‘for the old cow gets the better of her."

The Northerner shook her head and, at last, looked at you, her eyes moistened with concern. She leaned towards you and asked if you were all right. Words fell short on the tip of your tongue, troubled by the sight of a destroyed Prudence and the evening ahead of you. Your chores consisted of cooking and washing cloths, nothing that would justify being in the company of the royal family.

You shrugged.

"If ya want, I can ask Mylenda to swap us," Gilliane suggested. "I don't want ya to have anything to do wi' him. Not after all that mess," she nodded at Prudence.

Henry was clumsily dressing up her wounds.

You shook your head.

"No. It'll only get you in trouble with the old cow. I'll go. It's just serving wine, isn't it? It can't be that bad."

"I guess," Gilliane conceded.

You knew very well that your friend wanted to protest. You could see her plea right at the edge of her lips, but you went back to your post and your persillade before she could tell it. Protesting wouldn't change anything, so you might as well get used to the idea and put up with it. You deliberately ignored the shiver of terror that ran down your spine at the thought of the King and grabbed a new sprig of parsley, chopped it roughly before adding it to the mortar.

Mylenda appeared beside you as you grabbed the pestle.

"What are you still doing here, girl? Didn't you hear me? Go and look after the wine. We still have to add the honey and decant it. And for Gods’ sake, change that bloody apron! Spare the royal family the sight of these hideous rags! Ahem. Right, then. Now, where was I? Henry, polish these bloody chalices!"

The old matriarch left you alone, arms flailing away.

Contrary to popular belief, the wine cellars were not next to the kitchens. You had to venture even further down to find the huge and cold rooms. You were already missing the lively melody of the kitchens before leaving them.

"We probably won't see each other again before dinner, so... Stay away from t’King," Gilliane whispered to you before pursing her lips. Her hand squeezed your shoulder painfully. "If anything happens, anything, tell me and I'll take care of it–"

"Don't you worry about me," you put an end to her budding act of betrayal.

She nodded, frowning and her gaze determined. It was hard to believe that this fiery fury had been bred by the icy winds of Longtown.

"Can you do something for me?"

"Anything," she replied immediately.

"Hide the roebuck skin."

Gilliane smiled and winked at you.

"As long as ya leave me some to mend me cloak."

"Deal."

You gave her a thin smile and abandoned the venison and parsley, your knife and mortar for barrels and crushed grapes. When you reached the caves, a cellarer was stirring wine in a gigantic pot. Beside him, another was pouring honey into the red bath. They were probably making the hypocras the King was so fond of.

"I... Mylenda sent me. I'm the cupbearer... For tonight’s… dinner..?"

The pourer interrupted your poor explanation and nodded towards the corner of the room.

"Make yourself useful and fill those jugs up, girl."

The two hours passed quicker than you had wished and soon you found yourself with your back against the wall, your arms already tired from carrying the jug of wine you had filled yourself.

You thought back to Mylenda and lowered your head a little more. Her orders, engraved in your skull, haunted you. You could almost feel the old woman's bony fingers wrap around your chin and yank it down. The labyrinthine floors of the Keep were not enough to blur the threat of the old woman. Even when she wasn't there, she forced you to keep your head down, your eyes glued to the floor and, above all, your mouth shut⏤if you dared utter a single word, you'd suffer her fury and her fist.

You remembered Prudence's swollen face and shivered. Aegon Targaryen may have cast the first stone in her doll's face, but you had no doubt that the matron would throw all the others and beat her to the bone. You tightened your grip on the jug's handle and prayed to the Gods to spare you from the same fate.

With a distracted ear, you listened to the Dowager Queen, Alicent Hightower, speak in a soft voice, but her words faded under the suffocating presence of the King. He stood close enough to you so that you could hear every gulp of wine drunk, every mouthful chewed open. He spat out your persillade and stained the white tablecloth with vulgar words, obviously caring little for decorum.

The perks of being King, you supposed.

Your mind wandered away from Kings and Queens to the hide under the worktop. Had Gilliane taken it away or was it still lying on the sticky kitchen floor? Would you keep the hair or turn it into a leather coat, less warm but more durable? After what Mylenda had called the "deer disaster", she wouldn't let you butcher any more animals. No more skins for you. You'd have to buy fabric, but the few silver stags you were given every month wouldn't be enough.

Despite the plump little purse hidden under your straw mattress, you refused to dip your hand into it. The Crown housed you and fed you; clothes were a mere futility when the Keep provided you with a red dress and a white apron to wear. So why spend your fortune, meagre though it may be, on coquettish whims? No. The purse would remain hidden until you left the Keep.

Leather it is, you thought.

"Girl. Wine."

You startled and hastily filled the glass the Hand held out to you. Otto Hightower glanced at you for a moment but said nothing. He took a sip and turned to continue his conversation with his grandson, Prince Aemond. You sighed, relieved when his attention left you. A small voice in your head, however, whispered to you that he would definitely mention this incident to Oswell, and if not to the steward, to Melynda herself.

You gulped and absent-mindedly wiped the drop of wine from the jug.

As you moved to regain your place by the wall, your eye drifted to the venison terrine in front of the Hand, left untouched. You frowned. The fruit and cheese had long since filled the plates and foretold the end of dinner. A bitter taste poisoned your mouth and tugged its corners down. They were happily wasting the food while, under their feet, maids would fight to trim the bones of their leftovers, like vile carrion-eaters around a leprous corpse.

The nobles boasted of their noble education and mastery of good manners, but these vanished in the indecency of their existence.

A pale hand burst in front of your eyes and stopped under your nose to present you with an empty cup. Without a word, you poured the King another drink and kept your head down. His insistent gaze burned the side of your face and moved lower, stopping on your heaving chest. The hair on the back of your neck stood on end and the handle of the jug pressed painfully into your sweaty palm.

You pig.

You looked around for a way out and found no better distraction than the Prince Aemond. Your gaze immediately fell on his eye patch. You were standing on his blind side, you realised. The thought reassured you. For the first time, you could observe the members of the royal family as you pleased.

Unlike his brother, the second son of the late King Viserys did not take pleasure in fondling servant girls. He spent his urges studying the texts and holding the blade when he wasn't off murdering his nephews⏤for the war that emptied your stomachs and purses had blossomed at the hand of Aemond Targaryen.

Your eyes fell on his clenched fist, his angular jaw and his famous leather eye patch.

Yes, you could easily picture him a as murderer.

You left your thoughts for a moment to serve the Dowager Queen again, noticing that there was nothing left of the parsleyed liver that had filled her plate⏤a flash of satisfaction shook you⏤but your gaze quickly returned to the statuesque figure of the Prince.

You frowned.

A crack split the fascinating sight. His hand was gripping his glass so tightly that his knuckles were turning white, but even this strong grip couldn't mask the tremors shaking his fingers. The veins in his wrist gushed against the pale skin and seemed to be screaming out a pain that no one could hear but you: the King had started singing, the Dowager Queen was biting her nails and the Hand seemed about to insult his Grace.

Other details suddenly jumped out at you, as the din next to you worsened: his eyebrows furrowed, his other hand gripping the edge of the table, his vacant purple eye. He wasn't even answering Otto Hightower any more, just nodding absently.

Prince Aemond soon had enough of his brother's ditty and stood up. The chair legs creaked against the floor and made you wince, but you lowered your head and pursed your lips. He greeted his family in a curt voice before leaving, his head held high, a far cry from the spectacle of weakness you had just witnessed.

"My glass isn't going to fill itself, girl. More wine. And don't be stingy. To the brim. I'm thirsty."

You watched in silence as the red liquid crashed into the golden glass. A fine foam rose to the surface, the syrupy aromas of the spiced wine oozing out of it. For a second, you indulged yourself in the divine fragrance and its sweetness, which almost made you forget the King's perverse eyes.

Aelinor stepped forward and cleared the Prince's place setting. She took the empty plate, then the glass, and soon it was as if Aemond Targaryen had never dined here. Only a round of wine, where his glass had been placed, was proof of his presence.

He had never asked for a refill, you realised.

For some reason, the vision of Prince Aemond stayed with you for days.

A new servant, Gretchel Stone⏤a bastard of the Vale⏤had been hired to replace Prudence as cupbearer and waitress. The blonde girl had disappeared from the Keep three days after what the maid now called 'The Accident'. Wherever she was, you prayed for her good fortune and health. The law of the Lords was merciless⏤they played games and let the Small Folk suffer the consequences of their actions.

If Prudence's departure had saddened you deeply, Gretchel's arrival had freed you from your duty as cupbearer. You were elated to be back in the kitchens and the laundry. The mere memory of the King's gaze still sent shivers down your spine. It stuck to your skin despite the hours you spent in the bath, rubbing and rubbing and rubbing. Your flesh, however raw, couldn't shed the terror.

The hour of the Nightingale enveloped the Keep in an unrivalled softness. You enjoyed this in-between moment, when the night clung to the fragments of moon that still remained and left the few early risers to enjoy the quiet that the sun would take away.

The journey to the Great Sept was quick and untroubled. The few drunkards sprawled out on the ground in their own filth were fast asleep and the laborers already working had no use for you. Wrapped up in Gilliane’s cloak, your friend still asleep, you hurried on⏤soon, the Red Keep would awaken and duty would crush you.

When you finally passed through the monument's great doors, septas were silently cleaning the wax from yesterday’s burnt-out candles.

You passed them and knelt before the wall of the Crone, letting your gaze drift over her wrinkled statue and the murals carved in her honour before taking a splint and lighting a candle. You clasped your hands together and closed your eyes.

"Dear Crone," you whispered, "You who have seen so many lives and so many fates, grant me clairvoyance and discernment, for the future seems full of trials. Give me patience in my struggle and the strength to act with justice and compassion. Enlighten my steps and bless me with your mercy."

A bruised, stoic face appeared before your eyes, but you stood up before your thoughts drifted into those dangerous waters.

Lowly people need not concern themselves with the affairs of a Prince, an unknown voice said firmly.

When you returned to the Keep, it had come alive, bustling with hurry and duty. The kitchens were busy preparing meals for the Lords as other maids were coming and going, their arms drowned in clean and dirty linen. When Mylenda saw you, she threw a white pile into your arms and ordered you to change Prince Aemond's bedding.

"Gwenys, the poor girl, is ill," the matriarch explained. "The flu, no doubt. Bloody business. I'll be damned if the Prince catches it. He breaks his fast an hour after dawn. Any minute now, in fact. Make haste, Gentle Hand! And don't let anyone see you."

You stammered your obedience and hurried to Maegor's Citadel. The huge closed doors sent shivers down your spine. They separated you from the power of the World and its cruelty. The blood of the dragon slumbered in these quarters and you would not be the one to poke the sleeping beast. Your gaze fell on the King's chambers ⏤had an innocent soul once again fallen to his cruelty last night?⏤but you lowered your head and continued on your way.

You knocked on the door⏤your knuckles hitting the carved wood painfully ⏤but nobody answered. Your shoulders relaxed and your breathing calmed. The heavy door would not budge as you tried to push it open. Where were the Kingsguards? You threw your entire weight against the wood and when it finally did open, a thick layer of sweat was soaking your back.

Your eyes quickly swept over the Prince's quarters, drowned in the distinct opulence of royalty. In one corner, a bookcase was overflowing with ancient tomes and the smell of parchment filled the room. On the walls, murals glorifying House Targaryen caught your eye, but you forced yourself to keep your chin down, your mouth shut, and moved towards the bed, ignoring its warm and cosy appearance, a far cry from your straw mattress.

The four-poster bed alone was bigger than the small room you shared with Gilliane. Its tastefully embroidered green and black curtains caught your eye, but you resisted the urge to touch them.

Your arms went to work on their own and fell into familiar gestures.

You pulled off the worn sheets⏤trying not to think about the fluids trapped in them⏤rolled them into a ball and let them fall to the floor before taking the new ones and draping them over the feather-filled mattress. At last, you fluffed the cushions, releasing a musky and unmistakably masculine scent in the air. It floated in your nostrils. Your heart raced and your cheeks flushed. A little voice⏤sounding strangely like Mylenda’s⏤discouraged you from giving in to temptation, but the perfume numbed your senses and your reason.

Your trembling hand grasped the cloth and brought it to your face... Already, the scent caressed your cheeks. You gasped, your lips parted, ready to taste this intoxicating bouquet...

The door slammed.

The cushion fell from your hand.

You scrambled to your feet, almost tripping over the pile of dirty sheets on the floor.

The look on Prince Aemond's face made your blood run cold.

"Out."

Head down, you picked up the linens and left, taking care not to approach the Prince, who was visibly enraged. As you passed him, his gasping breath caught in your eardrum. You risked a glance in his direction and glimpsed at his clenched fist.

Just like at dinner.

The doors closed behind you with a slam that startled you. You had just enough time to hear a grunt and see the Prince's silhouette collapse to the floor. You paled and opened your mouth, ready to offer help, but Mylenda's threats came back to haunt you. You lowered your chin and disappeared around the corner of the corridor, determined to turn a deaf ear to the Prince's groans of pain.

Surely he would have ordered you to stay or fetch a Maester if he felt the need. His silence said it all, didn't it? A creature as proud as Aemond Targaryen probably wanted to be left alone to brood over the illness that was tormenting him. Perhaps Gwenys flu had affected more people than Mylenda thought.

Yes, that must be it.

Gwenys' ailment had turned out to be much more than the flu. Blood flux, a nasty ordeal… Oswell and Mylenda had tried to keep the matter quiet so as not to alert the Lords and give them more reason to hate the servants they were condemned to brush shoulders with. Several maids were dismissed from their duties to stop the spread of the disease⏤better letting it grow in Flea Bottom than the Keep, the steward had said⏤and their tasks had fallen on the already stooping shoulders of the remaining workers.

Busy changing the Prince's sheets at dawn and working in the kitchens during the rest of the day, it had become difficult to find time to pray to the Crone and the Mother in the Great Sept. This new schedule left you exhausted and irritated. Gilliane sometimes had to wake you up⏤something that would have been unthinkable just two weeks earlier. You were finding it hard to mourn the Hour of the Nightingale and the peace and quiet that Mylenda had forced you to give up. Now you had to pray in your room late at night, with the smell of cooking and soap still clinging to your skin.

But the Gods turned a deaf ear to your pleas and left you to face alone the guilt that grew in your heart each time you abandoned the Prince to his painful fate.

Your mornings were structured around a heavy sense of déjà vu. No matter how late you changed the Prince's linens, he would always appear and order you to leave with a booming voice before collapsing in a tornado of pain that, strangely enough, broke your heart.

"I don't know what's wrong with him," you shrugged. But I'm sure... I mean… It can't be the blood flux," you dared to whisper the forbidden word. "His sheets are always clean. I've never found any blood or vomit or... or anything. No... It must be some other affliction. For it to happen every day... Maybe it's his spirit? With all this talk of war... Oh, it's terrible. And strange. I can't stop thinking about it. Perhaps I should speak to the Maester..."

You stirred the contents of the pot absent-mindedly. As you had predicted, Melynda no longer trusted you to cut the meat and had assigned you to the sauces, much to your delight⏤the dreadful scent of fresh had been replaced by bouquets of redcurrant, wine and mustard.

Next to you, Gilliane cut a rabbit’s head in one clean stroke.

« Dozens of masters would travel from the Citadel just to treat him. It's not yer job to worry about him. He doesn't deserve it and it’ll only get ya into trouble. Maybe it's a ploy to bed ya. ‘Ve heard he spends lotta nights in the Street of Silk."

"Hmm... I doubt that's it. What's the point of dismissing me, then? If it was a ploy to... to do that… wouldn't it be easier to let me help him? I don't think the Prince is like his brother. No... He seems genuinely unwell."

"Generations of incest do that to ya," your friend scoffed. "It's about time the Gods punished 'em for their sins... These Greens are rotten to the core and you'd do well to remember that. These... These usurpers are–"

"More cutting and less talking, girls. The Crown pays you to fill stomachs, not to gossip like wenches. If working is such a bother, I'll be happy to replace you with obedient young ladies. Hundreds of them dream of your position in Flea Bottom."

"Yes, ma'am," you replied in unison.

Gilliane waited until Mylenda had gone before turning back to you, the bloody tip of her knife pointed towards you.

"Don't waste your prayers on that kinslayer. And keep away from him, d’ya hear me? There's something evil about that boy, I know it."

You nodded silently and stopped your thoughts from drifting to the Targaryen man. Perhaps Gilliane was right. A prince's business was none of your concern and it would be foolish to think otherwise.

Yes, you would do your chores quietly and let the lords play their game and fight their demons alone.

Prince Maelor's flushed and tearful face refused to leave your mind as you took his dirty linens to the laundry. You did not normally look after the King's heirs⏤Queen Helaena preferred to entrust this task to her trusted servants since that night⏤but a panicked Jenny had stormed into the corridor of Maegor's Citadel, a crying Jaehaera in her arms, as you went to the Prince's room. You had not hesitated to volunteered to take the soiled sheets to be washed; on the contrary, you welcomed the distraction with open arms⏤everything was good to postpone the duty that awaited you.

The smell of urine emanating from the sheets in your arms made you wince and quicken your pace, but your heart wept for this little toddler whom life had not spared. The King's last child had been prone to accidents since the barbaric assassination of Prince Jaehaerys⏤no doubt the traumatic death of his brother had upset him, as it had all the inhabitants of the Keep.

Once the sheets had been dropped off, you turned around and retraced your steps until you arrived in front of Prince Aemond's room. You swore under your breath as noises pierced the wood. The sun, already high in the sky, was taunting you. Your little diversions had only delayed your duty, not erased it despite your prayers, and now you had to change the Prince's bedding with the man in the room.

Maybe he would not care to hold it against you... After all, he told you to leave every day, whether his linens were changed or not. You turned on your heels and were about to head for the kitchens and Gilliane, but a scream stopped you in your tracks.

A second followed, then a third. You glanced around, hoping to see a Royal Guard burst around the corner, but no white cloak appeared. The corridors remained empty and the Prince's screams continued to ricochet off the alcoves and ceiling mouldings with you as the only ear listening.

Over your shoulder, the door taunted you. It was ajar, you realised. An unusual lack of attention from the Prince. You took a step towards it, keeping your eyes fixed on the small gap. Soon, the Prince's silhouette came into view.

On the ground, wearing only a shirt and trousers, Aemond Targaryen was shaking like a leaf, a trembling hand pressed against his bruised eye. A new wave of pain must have swept through him as he curled into himself and screamed.

You rushed to his side.

"Are you all right, my prince?" you asked breathlessly. Mylenda and her orders be damned. "Would you like me to fetch the Maester?"

Your hand hovered over his shoulder, which twitched with agony, but you did not dare to touch it for fear of retaliation. The Targaryen man raised his head with an almost bestial growl, resembling the dragon on his coat of arms. When he recovered enough to understand who was standing in front of him, his eyebrows furrowed and his complexion flushed with anger. Your heart skipped a beat and fear seeped through your veins in a matter of seconds.

"Get out," he gritted before turning his head⏤no, hiding.

"My Prince, I fear I must insist. Your eye–"

His eye patch had slipped off and, although it didn't unveil the horror that lay behind it, it did reveal a red and irritated scar. The lower eyelid was now a mass of inflamed skin. You turned your head and saw a bottle of milk of the poppy overturned, its translucent liquid staining the floor.

"Get out or I'll have your head!"

You jumped. In an impulse you would no doubt regret, your fingers went to his bruised cheek and brushed against the burning skin to feel the damage before you squeaked. The Prince's hand tightened around your wrist and squeezed, squeezed, squeezed, until you yelped and abruptly pulled away. Pain colonised your palm, your fingers you could now barely move, and the bone at the centre of it all. You got up on shaky knees and walked away, leaving the Prince alone with his torments.

Instead of heading for the kitchens, your legs led you to Maester Orwyle's dark and silent storerooms. No doubt he was busy deciding the fate of the kingdom with the other members of the Small Council. Silently, you slipped through the door and lit a candlestick before examining the shelves filled with ingredients of all kinds, some perhaps older than you. Hundreds of labels jumped out at you, but none caught your eye until the orange of a jar lit up your retina.

You glanced behind you and were relieved to see the room still empty. Hastily, you uncorked the jar and dipped your hand in. Your fingers brushed against the softness of its contents before closing around it. You repeated the operation once, twice, thrice, until your pockets were overflowing with expensive and precious ingredients. When it came to stealing the powder you needed, you hesitated but ended up finding a small wooden bowl, insignificant enough so that no one would notice it missing.

Just as you were about to leave, the faint glow of the candle caught on a small metal container and blinded you. You read its familiar inscription before dropping it, too, into your apron and setting off again, praying to the Gods that the Maester didn't notice the missing ingredients, otherwise you'd certainly end up on the scaffold.

Your footsteps hit the floor of the Keep. The corridors gave way to staircases that revealed the lower floors, hiding your bedroom. Once you were safe, you tossed your loot onto the bed before digging out a mortar and a sticky jar from underneath it. With trembling hands, you dipped a wooden dish into a bucket of clear water normally used for bathing before grabbing the pestle.

In the mortar, you emptied the bag of green clay and drowned it in the water before stirring. The pain in your wrist redoubled, but you gritted your teeth and persevered. You added the marigold and camomile petals, then the gooey inside of a Dorne plant whose name you didn't know, before adding two large spoonfuls of honey.

The neck of the metal container hung in the air for a few seconds. Was that wise? You hesitated, thinking back to the bottle spilt in the Prince's room, but gave in to temptation and let three drops fall into the concoction.

You ran back towards Maegor's Citadel and snuck into the Prince's quarters. He raised his head and his features quickly contorted with rage at your sight.

"You again! I shall speak to the steward of your–"

You threw the mortar on the floor, along with some bandages, before turning around and slamming the door. Your back slid against its wood until you fell to the floor, gasping for air.

Seven Hells, what have I done?

For a week, your nights were spent praying to the Gods to spare you from the Prince's rage. Sleep slipped away in night terrors that always woke you with a start, leaving you paranoid enough to look over your shoulder every few minutes, waiting for the inevitable. A beating by Mylenda, a dismissal by the steward, even a visit from the Royal Guard... but nothing happened. And that somehow made it worse. Perhaps the Prince wanted to deal with you alone. A series of shivers made you waver. He was terrifying, untouchable⏤impunity incarnated. If anyone found out what you'd done...

No. No one would know, you tried to convince yourself.

You decided to keep the incident from Gilliane, who wouldn't have understood anyway. No doubt she would even have chastised you for not leaving him to die on the icy floor of the Keep. A staunch supporter of Rhaenyra, she hated the idea of working for the enemy. You had no thought on the subject. Politics did not matter to you as long as you were paid and the Gods let you live. You wouldn't spit on the hand that fed and housed you.

It was comfort that kept you under the yoke of Mylenda and her petrifying breath, not ideology.

The dirt on the King's sheets dissipated in the icy water of the washroom. Your purple fingers struggled to wring the fabric. Terrified of having to face the Prince and reap the consequences of your reckless act, you had asked Mylenda to change your chores in the morning. Fortunately, the matron didn't argue too much, sending you away with just a barb about your hands⏤as was her custom⏤before returning to her duties. Washing clothes had never been your forte, but you preferred it to Aemond Targaryen’s presence.

Two more weeks passed without the Prince making his presence felt. He seemed to have disappeared from the Keep. According to the other maids, his appearances at meals were brief and always tense, and some had even seen him lose a duel during his sparring sessions with Criston Cole.

When you realised that the Prince would not take revenge, your shoulders relaxed and your mind returned to more pleasant thoughts.

How naive of you to think that Aemond One-Eye would give up.

He cornered you in a corridor one evening as you were making your way to your room. Your fingers were itching to do something other than stir sauces and wash cloths. The deerskin, hidden under your bed and still intact, was waiting for you. With all this fuss, you had never found the time to make your long-awaited coat, a decision you bitterly regretted⏤the cold had definitely fallen on King's Landing and left you shivering when your chores weren't there to warm you up.

A hand pulled you into an alcove. You attempted to struggle but the stranger quickly overpowered you, leaving you unable to move or scream. White streaks cascaded in front of your eyes, carrying a distinct musky smell which stunned you into compliance.

By the Gods, he had come seeking revenge.

Aemond Targaryen was going to kill you.

"Which Maester did you steal that poultice from?"

His sharp tone was terrifying. Tears welled up in the corners of your eyes and a squeak fell from your lips. The prince turned you towards him, waiting for an answer, but you didn't know what to say. Your thoughts were all jumbled together, rendering you as mute as Cromm, the horse keeper from Flea Bottom. He was close, so close that you could see the grain of his skin, the purple of his eye and the scar on his cheek⏤less red than last time, you noticed.

"Answer me, girl. Where did you find this ointment? Maester Orwyle assures me he has no knowledge of it. Nor do his colleagues. No one in this Keep knew of its existence until I mentioned it. So speak up!"

You stammered a few words, incomprehensible even to your own ears. This seemed to frustrate the Prince to no end as he tightened his grip on your arm.

Your wrist throbbed, reminiscing the pain.

"If you do not tell me who–"

"It’s mine," you cut him off, eager to free yourself from his grip. "I made it."

The silence stretched and wrapped around your neck in a horrifying premonitory vision.

"... You? »

"Yes?"

He glared at you. The darkness of the alcove didn't dull the brilliance of his purple irises. It glowed and made your heartbeat quicken. Legends said the Targaryens were closer to Gods than men and you couldn't help but agree, blessed enough to contemplate their work.

"Hm."

The pressure on your arm vanished.

"You will tend to my linens. The new maid cannot do it properly."

The Prince turned around and disappeared into the night.

The green and black curtains of the four-poster bed had long lost their novelty but none of their splendour. You fluffed the pillow before picking up the duvet. The musky scent of the Prince invaded your nostrils and dilated your pupils. You'd never admit it, but you were relieved to find yourself back in the quarters of the Dowager Queen’s second son. No more freezing water. No more soiled sheets. No more vomit and sperm staining the King's robes.

The Prince entered the room without a word, but his panting alerted you. Over your shoulder, you caught a glimpse of his clenched fists, furrowed brows and soaked forehead... You didn't wait for him to dismiss you before curtseying, your headdress almost falling off. You gathered up the sheets and headed for the door, but he held out a hand.

"Stay. I've... I've got to..."

The sheets fell at your feet as the Prince wobbled. Your hands struggled to hold on to his torso, which, in its mass, threatened to send you to the floor too. With clenched teeth, you guided the man to his bed, ignoring the stabbing pain in your arms, and immediately covered him with a blanket, not caring that you had spent time tucking it.

"What... what should I do? Should I fetch Maester Orwyle? Or someone else? A guard? Ser Criston Cole, perhaps?"

The situation was surreal. Prince Aemond Targaryen, kinslayer and rider of Vhagar, was turning to you for help. A spark of jubilation ignited in your chest but panic spoiled the moment. Large beads of sweat beaded on the Prince’s forehead and ran down his skin to his twitching eyebrow. Your eyes widened at the sight. The whole left side of his face was twitching and convulsing.

You were right to add chamomile, you thought gravely.

Prince Aemond had spasms, his muscles never healed from the loss of his eye.

A pang lacerated your heart at the thought of this young boy, fated to suffer in silence during all those years.

A warm sensation brought you back to the present. A pale and large hand had engulfed yours and was gripping it so tightly that you winced. But you said nothing, just whispered words of encouragement that were drowned out by his groans. He was no longer the terrifying Prince the maids talked about. He was turning into the fragile, battered being he had once been before your very eyes

"Do you... have your... your poultice?" he managed to say.

You shook your head. The prince had started to shiver. In a fit of bravery, you placed the back of your hand against his forehead and found it burning. A spark of panic ignited your chest.

Fever was never a good sign.

"Can you... Can you make some?"

"I–" you stammered. "My Prince... The ingredients are not easy to find."

"Paper… And a quill."

Not wanting to exhaust him further, you rushed to his secretary and promptly grabbed the items before running back to his bedside. He grasped it with a trembling hand and scribbled something on a roll of paper before handing it to you.

"Give this to Maester Orwyle. He'll grant you access to his supplies. I... I need your help."

With a determined nod, you set off in the direction of the healer's quarters, who was stunned by your request before letting you in. The man watched you make the ointment in silence. The weight of his gaze slid over your tense body, too concentrated on your movements to pay attention. You left, throwing a thank-you over your shoulder, and returned to Aemond's room, out of breath and with your heart pounding against your temples.

The Prince had not moved. He only moved when you handed him the pot.

"Can you... put it on me?" he asked in a small voice.

So, you, the ever-dutiful maid, did what you knew best and obeyed.

Gently, you removed his eye patch with his permission and dipped a bandage in the poultice before placing it on his wound. You were careful not to stare at his wound for too long. The Prince was tense, uncomfortable with the idea of his face bare. His hand had found a piece of your apron and was clinging to it like a mussel to a rock in the vain hope of finding comfort. Sometimes, in an uncharacteristic show of bravery, you would let your fingers caress his before taking a new strip and starting the operation all over again.

Soon his scar was entirely covered with the ointment except for his eyelid, whose bright red flesh alarmed you.

"You must remove the sapphire, my prince," you murmured, thus speaking into existence what had until then remained silent.

He tensed under your fingers. A rustle echoed in the room. His hand had torn off a piece of your apron. You swallowed and looked down.

Had you gone too far?

Mylenda will beat you for ruining your apron, a more urgent voice reminded you.

"Your eye socket is irritated," you tried to explain. "And the pressure of the gem seems to be... making it worse. Perhaps it would be best to let the flesh rest and not torture it any further."

"Turn around."

Your eyes latched onto the drapes and slid higher, over the murals. Dragons were drowning castles in their flames, ridden by white-haired men. Behind you, something clanged against the bedside table. Here and there, blue reflections ricocheted off the wall and drowned the blaze in a fragmented ocean.

"Resume."

A gasp escaped from your throat before you could take it back, horrified by the new mural, even more violent than the war scene you had just abandoned. There was nothing left of the eyelid. The empty eye socket clung to the remaining skin, but it was tangled up in a carnal mess⏤the work of a hurried butcher. The roebuck galloped into your mind. Mylenda would have grumbled at the sloppy stitching.

"Resume," he repeated.

His voice trembled with rage.

Silently, you wet yet another strip of cloth and placed it on the remnants of his eyelid with a trembling hand. Your finger grazed his temple before falling back into your lap. Once again, the Prince grabbed your apron. The chamomile perfumed the room, releasing its soothing fragrance all around you, but he remained impervious to it, battered by pain and ghosts.

With his face wrapped in white clothes, Aemond Targaryen resembled the dead king.

At least the spasms had subsided. That reassured you. The first bands were already hardening and working their miracle. The hollows in his forehead had disappeared, his body finally giving itself a well-deserved rest. The Prince let himself fall back against his pillows.

You took this sign as a dismissal and got up, not wanting to impose your presence on him any longer. The dirty sheets from the night before were still lying on the floor. Mylenda was probably wondering what you were up to. Gilliane couldn't make up excuses indefinitely.

"Stay."

"I have to get back to the kitchen. And your sheets..."

"Stay," he commanded in a weak voice.

What could you do but make yourself comfortable at the Prince's bedside? The order sounded like a request, but no doubt he would have taken your refusal as an affront. He was still a noble and nobles did not like to be contradicted.

"Can you touch my cheek? Your hands... Your hands help."

His purple eye rolled in its socket and struggled to stay awake as it rested on you. The Prince was not in his right mind. The pain left him bare before you, vulnerable. What could be more dangerous than a vulnerable Targaryen? He would wrap you in his secrets, not caring that you would surely burn in them. In the Red Keep, it was wiser to remain ignorant. To be a confidant was to meddle in unknown and dangerous matters.

Mylenda was right. You should have kept your mouth shut.

So you said nothing as the Prince grabbed your hand and pressed it against his cheek. His courage seemed to surprise him, for he tensed before relaxing and pressing back against your hand, desperately seeking the warmth of your palm. His lips parted and he sighed. Your cheeks flushed at the sensual sound, but you clung to the illusion of peace that embraced the room and buried your fears in a corner of your chest.

It was easier to cooperate.

Your fingertips traced his temple, the arch of his eyebrow, the hollow of his cheek, the bridge of his nose, and then repeated the exploration on the other side. His purple eye disappeared behind an intact eyelid, so different from the other. He sighed happily and curled up against you. The grip on your apron loosened. His breathing slowed.

"Mummy."

The moan pierced the silence and took the peace with it, leaving only the cruel reality. She laughed at you and your naivety. Your blood turned cold. A wide purple eye looked into yours. You immediately stood up and mumbled an apology. The Prince followed suit, despite the pain. A bandage fell with a wet noise onto the sheet but, for once, you could not bring yourself care. Your eyes remained stuck on your hands.

Stupid, stupid girl. What had you done? Touching a Prince like that? If His Highness didn't take care of you, the steward would beat you⏤like Prudence, like all the others. And Mylenda... The horror squeezed your stomach painfully and twisted your guts.

"If you tell anyone about this, I'll–"

Hot tears rolled down your cheek and dried your skin before landing on your trembling lips. You shook your head frantically and picked up the pile of dirty sheets before running for the door.

If there was one thing Mylenda had taught you, it was to shut up.

#★ WRITING #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond series #aemond angst #aemond targaryen #hotd fanfic #hotd aemond #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon fanfic

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wandanatsgf · 2 months

Text

Sugar, Sugar Part 3

Pairing: WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: The three of you officially sign the contract and now you're their sugar baby

Warnings: this contains daddy kink, mommy kink, threesomes, dom/sub dynamic, face sitting, edging, praise, bondage, strap on fucking, other things I’m sure I’m forgetting

Author's Note: I know this is starting out kinda slow paced but it will be picking up soon! Also ignore any mistakes in this. I didn't proof read it because I'm too tired to. Anyway enjoy!

Part 1 Part 2

Harsh evening light is hitting your face, waking you up.

The first thing you notice when you wake up his how soft the bed is. It's certainly softer than anything you've ever known. The second thing you notice is the two women on either side of you. They lay there peacefully, the three of you intertwined together. Flashbacks to a few hours ago run through your mind, making you blush. You were never the type to sleep with someone so easily, but with them everything was different. It didn’t matter that you barely knew the two women.

Wanda starts to stir, averting your attention from your thoughts to her.

"Hi," you say.

"Hi baby," she says, sleepiness lacing her voice. "How are you feeling?"

"A little tired, but I'm good." You go to scooch away from Wanda, now suddenly aware of just how close the two of you are, when she pulls you back.

"Don't leave honey," she whispers to you. "You're so warm, it's a nice change from Natalia. That woman is like an icebox," she says making you laugh.

"No I'm not, you're just always cold," Natasha grumbles, now awake.

“Aww I’m sorry baby did we wake you?” Wanda's voice is laced with mock apology.

“You know you did,” Natasha says, her piercing glare directed at Wanda. “But I’m glad because now I get to spend my morning with this beautiful little thing.” Natasha moves around in the bed until she is facing you. Her hand finds it’s way to your chin, a subtle act of dominance that sends heat straight to your core. She leans in and captures your lips with hers. It’s slow and passionate and makes you melt against her. Natasha’s hand slips between the two of you, running down your front and she almost slips it into the shorts you’re wearing when Wanda stops her.

“Hold on you two before we do anything else we need to get the contract printed and signed.”

Both you and Natasha groan in unison.

“Do we have to,” you whine out.

“Yes we do baby. It’s for your safety and ours. We’ve gotta do it.”

“Okay fine,” you grumble, but allow Wanda to pull you out of bed. Natasha follows closely behind. Wanda leads you to the room you had been in yesterday, where she turns on her computer and starts printing off the contract that one of them had somehow had the time to make. In no time the three of you sign it, officially beginning your time as their sugar baby.

"Now where were we," Natasha says. She steps towards you, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other grabbing you and pulling you to her. She kisses you hard and deeply, causing you to give in to her. You're pliable to her will, willing to let her do whatever she wants to you.

"Please," you beg once the two of you finally pull apart.

"What do you want detka? Be a good girl and use your words," Wanda taunts. She's sitting in a chair, watching all of this go down.

"Come on tell us what you want milyy, or else we'll give you nothing," Natasha says.

"I want one of you to fuck me please," you beg.

"Good girl," Natasha says. She picks you up, wrapping your legs around her waist and take you back to their room. She lays you down on the bed, pulling your clothes off. You lie there naked as she towers over you fully clothed.

"Wanda?" Natasha asks.

"Can you grab the red strap and some rope?"

"Already on it." You can hear Wanda inside their closet, refiling through it, trying to find the things Natasha asked for.

"Remember if you need to stop call out red okay?" Natasha says, checking in on you.

"Ok if I need to stop I will."

"That's my good girl." Natasha climbs on top of you and gently kisses you, but breaks the two of you apart when Wanda comes back in the room.

You let out a whine, wanting her lips back on yours. However Wanda is quick to correct you.

"Don't whine unless you want us to give you something to whine about malysh."

"I'm sorry mommy."

"Good girl that's better. Now put your arms up against the headboard and your legs spread out." You do as you're asked and the two women work together to tie you up. They have you securely restrained in no time.

Wanda walks over to you and leans down while Natasha strips and puts the strap on on. She turns your face to her with one hand, her touch is tender.

“Daddy is going to play with you a little bit and then she’s gonna fuck you while mommy rides your face ok?” Wanda’s tone is gentle and her voice is soft as she speaks to you. It makes the dirty words that just came out of her mouth that much hotter to you.

“Ok mommy,” you say. You try to clench your thighs together, wanting to relieve the ache that is forming, but with your legs tied apart you can’t.

“Aww is someone feeling a little needy?” Natasha asks. You hadn’t even realized she had finished putting the harness on. But now she is standing in front of you, the strap on swinging between her legs. She looks heavenly, you think.

“Please daddy,” you beg.

“What do you want detka?”

“Daddy please touch me.” You start to wiggle a bit, once again trying to relieve the ache, but it does nothing more than make Natasha laugh at how pathetic you look.

“Is this where you want me to touch you detka?” Natasha’s hand ghosts over your inner thigh, so close yet too far away from where you really need her.

“No daddy. Higher please.”

“Right here?” Natasha’s hand caresses your stomach, teasing you.

“Please touch my pussy daddy,” you finally cry out, frustrated from Natasha’s teasing.

“Good girl,” Natasha says. She lays down on her stomach, her face right up against your pussy. She uses her right hand to hold your hips down, while her thumb plays with your clit.

“Oh god,” you loudly moan out.

“Does daddy playing with your pussy feel good?” Wanda asks. She reaches a hand down to pull at your tits, your back arching off the bed as she does.

“It feels really good mommy,” you manage to say in between moans.

Natasha continues her assault on your pussy while Wanda assaults your chest. The two of them together are sending your brain into overdrive. The only thing you can think about is your impending orgasm and how good being touched by then feels.

“Please let me cum,” you beg. You’re not sure which one you’re begging to, they’re both making you feel good.

“Should we let our little princess cum Nat?”

“I think if she wants to cum she should do it on my strap,” Natasha says, pulling away from you. That action elicits a high pitched whine to escape your mouth, upset that you were so close and your orgasm was taken from you.

“Don’t whine detka, you’ll be back feeling good in a minute,” Natasha reassures you. Natasha positions herself, but doesn’t push into you yet, knowing Wanda wants to check in with you.

“I’m going to ride your face now ok? And Nat is going to fuck you. We’re going to let you adjust so tell us when we can move. If it gets to be too much and you can’t talk tap my thigh three times ok?” Wanda says, making sure you’re alright with everything that’s about to happen.

“Ok mommy.”

“Good girl,” Wanda says. She removes her skirt and underwear and straddles your face.

“Come on stick your tongue out. Let mommy ride your pretty little face.” You stick your tongue out just like Wanda asked you to, and she slowly sinks down onto your face, letting you adjust to the feeling.

“You both can move now,” you tell the two women. Once you do, Natasha starts fucking into you at a brutal pace. Your moans are constant, but they’re muffled by Wanda’s pussy in your face.

“You’re doing so good detka,” Wanda praises, chasing her own high. She grinds down onto your tongue, moans escaping her mouth.

“You’re so pretty when you’re taking my cock princess,” Natasha groans out. Her thrusts become faster and faster, pushing you closer and closer to release.

You moan out loudly, trying to ask permission to cum, but all that comes out is moans.

"You gonna cum baby?" Natasha asks, her voice a little breathless.

You moan, which Natasha takes as yes. Wanda's movements start to become erratic above you, a telltale sign that she's about to cum.

"Be a good girl and cum for daddy detka," Natasha says. The second she says that you cum all over her strap and Wanda cums all over your face and mouth. You happily lick it all up, savoring the taste of her.

"You're such a good girl princess," Wanda says as she climbs off of you. Natasha slips out of your pussy and the two women quickly untie you. Wanda walks back into the coset and returns with some sort of cream that the two women apply to your wrists and ankles, easing the burning feeling.

"You did so good for us, how are you feeling milyy?" Natasha asks once the two women had finished applying the cream. Wanda sets the cream on the nightstand and both women climb into bed with you.

"good but a little sleepy," you answer. You're clinging to both women, wanting to be as close to them as possible.

"Do you need a nap honey?" Wanda asks. You nod your head yes. The two women position themselves so that you're sandwiched between the two of them. It's a warm and comfortable feeling. The two women whisper soft praises to you until you fall into a gentle sleep. When you wake, you're still sandwiched between the two women.

"You feeling better darling?" Natasha asks.

"Yeah I feel a lot better." You sit up and look around. It doesn't look like you were out for long.

"There's something we want to talk to you about honey," Wanda says once you're more alert and awake. "we want to take you out tomorrow is that okay?"

“I’d really like that," you say, a blush making its way across your face at the idea of going out with these two beautiful women.

“is seven ok detka?” This time Natasha speaks.

“Yes that works for me,” you say, your voice full of exhaustion.

“We’ll pick you up. Just send us your address later when you’re not so tired ok?”

“I will.”

The three of you spend the next couple of hours talking and eating dinner. You're happy to get to know these two women better. But eventually you have to leave and go back home. Nat and Wanda escort you out of their house, making sure to give you a kiss goodbye. The whole way back to your apartment you’re freaking out. You can’t believe how lucky you are. That you get to sleep with two of the hottest women on the planet plus you get paid for it.

Soon enough you’re opening the door to your apartment.

"Oh my god Katie," you loudly exclaim as you walk in.

"I've never been so attracted to two people in my life. They're just so fucking hot."

"I bet it helps that they're fucking loaded," Kate jests.

"Yeah," you say blushing. "But that's not the only thing I like about them," you say defending the two women. "They're so kind and sweet. I've never met someone that I've connected with like I do with the two of them."

"Oh yeah I bet you do connect with them," Kate says, with a wink, making her innuendo more obvious.

"Katie," you whine.

"Wait I was just joking, you've slept with them already?" Shock laces her voice.

"Yeah," you say sheepishly. "I didn't plan on it, but they were just so hot. I never sleep with people that quickly but they're just so great and y’know they seem pretty caring and sweet," you say, going on and on about the two women.

"Wow, sounds like someone's a little smitten."

Kate's words bring a blush to your cheeks, but you're quick to correct her. "I'm not smitten Katie. I just like sleeping with them and the money," you say, but even as you say it, you're not sure that you completely believe it. The way those two women make you feel is unbelievable and overwhelming, but you’re choosing to ignore that for now.

"Anyway I need to go to bed, I'm exhausted," you tell your best friend.

"I bet it's exhausting keeping up with two super hot women," Kate says teasing you once again.

“Whatever Katie. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” she says back.

That night you lay in bed, wondering what tomorrows date (for lack of better words) will hold. Eventually you fall to sleep, excited for what tomorrow holds.

taglist (so sorry if I forget to tag anyone): @dorabledewdroop @sokovianbaby @beakami @jono723 @godhatesgoodgirls @imaginaryblogger01 @alexawynters @marvelwomen-simp @tobiaslut

#wanda x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #black widow #black widow x reader #elizabeth olsen #lizzie olsen #sugar mommy!wanda #sugar mommy!natasha #wandanat x reader

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saturnznct · 2 months

Text

1:43am | jks

➸ note; i don't like this but dad jake thoughts are all consuming

➸ word count; 574 words

➸ ella; aged 2 months

➸ warning(s); none

enhypen masterlist

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

You woke up out of habit.

It was almost as if your body was confused as to why you hadn’t been awoken by cries for some time.

You crane your head around to look at the clock, and notice that Jake isn’t beside you. Furrowing your eyebrows in confusion, you rub your eyes.

Maybe he’s in the nursery?

You turn back around to grasp the baby monitor on your bedside table. Your daughter’s room is empty, both of Jake and your daughter.

You reluctantly peel the covers away, shivering at the chill of the outside air, slipping on your slippers and padding along the corridor, quickly poking your head into every room you pass.

You finally find some luck in the living room. Jake is sitting in one of two armchairs facing your floor to ceiling windows. Your high rise apartment has a beautiful view of Seoul at night, and so the two of you have spent many nights talking into the early hours here.

A pink bundle lays asleep in his arms, and you can tell by the tilt of his head that he’s just looking at her.

‘Jae?’

Jake turns his head, and you feel a twinge of guilt for snapping him out of his trance.

‘Hi, sorry did I wake you?’

‘No, no,’ you sink into the armchair opposite him, ‘just wondered where you’d gone.’

‘She needed a bottle. And then we got comfortable here.’

‘Aren’t you tired?’ you rest your elbow on the arm of the chair, ‘we can put her down and go back to bed.’

‘Few more minutes,’ Jake cradles Ella, absentminded smile across his face.

‘Oh, Ella, I think I’ve been replaced,’ you sigh, and Jake rolls his eyes.

‘No, definitely not. My heart just grew bigger, didn’t it El?’ he lifts her up to kiss her forehead, ‘got so much room for both of my girls.’

You feel the heat rise to your cheeks and the butterflies swirling in your stomach. Even after so many years Jake still makes you feel so flustered. Seeing your baby girl in his arms just exacerbates it.

‘Mummy/mommy just gave me the most perfect girl, huh?’ Jake doesn’t notice the effect he’s having on you as he stares at Ella, ‘gave me everything I’ve ever wanted.’

‘Jaeyun..’

‘I mean it, you know,’ he gazes out the window at the city below, ‘like, right now it feels like we’re the only people in the world. Every time I look at the two of you it feels like my life is complete, you know? I could die happy.’

He looks back down at Ella, gently rocking her, ‘I didn’t think it was possible to feel so much love. Thank you for giving it to me.’

You’re so hormonal and affected by his words that tears quickly fall down your face.

‘Jesus,’ you sniffle, ‘you can’t say all that when I’m breastfeeding and hormonal.’

Jake just chuckles, ‘just wanted to make sure you know how much I love you.’

‘I love you too.’

Ella starts snoring lightly, but loud enough for you both to hear and giggle at.

‘Maybe we should put her down and get some rest ourselves,’ Jake suggests, ‘you need it, Mama.’

‘Okay,’ you rub your aching eyes, and stand up with him.

He curls a spare arm around you, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

‘You get into bed. I’ll be in to cuddle you in just a minute.’

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rboooks · 1 year

Text

Child Support Part 2

Tim watched the other young heroes as they tried to look around the watch tower without seeming like they were. He's been here plenty of times, but the rest of the Teen Titans and a few of the Young Justice hasn't.

Much was due to the older heroes leaving the younger ones alone. Some not taking them seriously enough to welcome them at the big HQ as much as that made his blood boil.

They were taking the same risks. They were fighting the same good fights. Why was their age the main reason they weren't treated equally?

Some teenage heroes weren't part of a team per see, but they always answered when a call was sent. For example, Cass and Steph were present, speaking softly to Static Shock. Damian was standing next to Jon and his little friend Colin who was just getting into the swing of the hero business.

Bruce almost bit through his tongue when Damian told him Abuse would be joining Robin on parol, and he could do nothing to stop them. (Tim felt like he was watching Damian tell Bruce a paraphrased version of "But Daddy, I love him!" and it kept him smiling for weeks)

It was wild to see almost every young hero in one place. He doesn't think this happened since the last time Justice Leauge got mind controlled and almost destroyed the whole world.

"Any idea why we're here?" Kon asks to his right, lowering his shade to stare at the Outlaws. Jason's team stood to the side chatting iddly while cleaning over thier weapons.

Kon's always like their punk point of view, and he knows his best friend wants to go over there to talk to them. If it wasn't for the issue of the clone still being mad about what Jason did at the Teen Titans tower. Almost murder was hard to forgive for people outside the Bats.

"None. All I know is that John Constantine sent out a message to every teenage superhero group calling for a meet-up," Tim responds.

Bart whistles with a grimace on his right. "Must be bad if that guy is asking."

"I heard Hawkwoman tell Superman that she was worried and wasn't sure she wanted anyone of us mixed up in Constantine's mistakes." Cassie chimes in from where she leans on the couch. The three turn to her as she lowers her voice, attempting to keep the others from hearing. "Batman told her off for it."

"Batman did?" Tim asks, surprised.

Cassie shrugs, throwing a bit of her blond hair over her shoulder. "As much Batman can emote anyway."

Yeah, that sounded about right. Though it must have been something Bruce found disrespectful. His dad usually never reprimanded strangers unless they were saying something or doing something that sounded far too much like bigotry to him.

But to apply that to Constantine? Someone, Bruce generally disliked communicating with because the man tended to backstab his contacts? Yes, Constantine wasn't evil, but he wasn't pleasant either.

If Bruce had magical issues, he tended to contact Zatanna first.

Just then, the watch tower's zeta beams activate. Everyone who gathered turns to the teleporting pads where Constantine appears looking, for lack of a better word, absolutely exhausted. Even Tim knows that his eye bags aren't that bad, and he's usually going hours without sleep.

"Oh good, you all made it," Constantine says, sipping from a mug and wearing nothing but sweatpants and what looks like a nightgown. His signature trench coat was nowhere in sight. "I'm going to be quick about this. I need a team of young heroes willing to accept my son into their fold."

The room is dead silent. Constantine sighs. "Look, I've tried everything, but it's like Danny is allergic to laying low. He fought with a demon the other day over a child's doll- which you all know happens. People get haunted! But Danny refused to do it the right way, and now I had to beat off the demon's marriage proposal at least ten times. Not to mention his lack of social skills! No matter which one I stick him in, he can't seem to make friends in school. He got shoved into a locker on his first day! I thought that was an American exaggeration of the telly!"

Constantine pauses and takes a large gulp of whatever he's drinking before continuing his rant. A hand runs through his already messy hair, leaving it in bigger disarray as he speaks. "He's behind in terms of trends and technology cause his other father raised him outside of the typical timelines, so sometimes it's like talking to someone from the early two thousand, and other times it's like he's a modern Victorian era lad. His powers are also all over the place because the ectoplasm in our world is thicker, so when he breathes it in, he losses his control. Just the other day he accidentally made himself fly through our ceiling and almost reach the atmosphere before I was able to bring him back down."

A few of the fliers in the room wince. Jon nods and whispers under his breath, though his voice carries in the silence. "Yeah, been there before. Flying can be scary if you don't know how to come down."

Johns glances around at all the young people, eyes showing a tad bit of desperation. "He's sad all the time now, and I don't know how to help. If working with you could help him make friends, I would be grateful. He's a great kid. He just needs to adjust."

Tim had no idea what to do with this information; how do you respond to arguably one of the strongest Justice League Darks' heroes asking for a play date for his son?

"How old is the child?" Damian's voice rings out. Colin's hand is attached to his sleeve, a slightly nervous smile on the boy's face as he attempts to hide from the staring heroes behind his brother. Tim bets that if he wasn't wearing the domino mask, they would be able to see slight tears in Colin's eyes.

Damian's other hand goes across his body to cover Colin's hand, and Tim fights a shit-eating grin. His eyes lock with Jason, and the two send each other knowing grins. Looks like Bruce did have to worry about Damian having a secret boyfriend.

He can't wait to tease Damian later.

"He's fourteen....or well, physically?" Constantine answers eagerly.

"What does that mean?" Kon asks this time.

"Okay, so he's half human, half ecto-being. He sired him with his other father, Clockwork, which was only four years ago in this dimension, but since he was raised in the Infinite Relemas, times move differently there? " The British man says, and Raven goes rigid.

"Clockwork, as in the most powerful Ancient?" She asks, looking horror-struck when Constantine nods.

Before anyone asked what that meant, the zeta tubes activated again without permission. Someone had hacked into their systems which were ten levels bad. Everyone naturally fell into a fighting stance, only to blink when a teenage boy stepped out with a loud excited screech.

"We're in space!" The teenager runs to one of the windows, pressing his hands and face up against the glass. "This is amazing!"

Tim only relaxes his muscles once Constantine clears his throat. "Chum...what are you doing here?"

"Oh. One of your curse rocks things started proposing to me again, so I ran out of the House of Mysteries. Thought I see what you were up to." The teenager says, turning around with a smile and utterly freezing at the sight of the gathered heroes.

He had dark hair, wide blue eyes, and the most adorable face Tim had ever seen. Not as sexy as Bernard, of course, but darn close. Judging by the looks of anyone attractive to males, most heroes thought the same.

"Um...hi?" He says, offering the Godsmack teenagers a helpless little shrug. "I'm Danny Constantine."

"It is a pleasure, Constantine." Damian marches over to him with all his little twelve-year-old authority. He barely reaches Danny's chest. "I shall look forward to working with you. Are you formally trained in combat or strictly magic?"

"Um...oh, I can throw a punch or two? I'm mostly self taught. I rely on my powers a lot?" Danny fumbles to answer throwing a desperate look at his presumed father.

"No matter. I shall have you begin training. My Beloved also needs to work on his form. There is no shame in this" Damian nods, and Constantine lets out a large sigh of relief. He jogs over to place a hand on his son's shoulder, giving him a one-sided hug

"Yes, Danny, you will join Robin, Superboy, and Abuse on missions. They agree to help you settle and get used to your ghost powers." Constantine smiles. "I'll give me time to discourage all those idiots from trying to trick you into marriage."

"Oh...okay. It's nice to meet you all. Please call me Phantom on the field. Um, are you the team leader?" He asks Damian as the three youngest boys lead him further into the watch tower.

Constantine watches them go with the brightest smile he's ever seen on the man's face. He looks back to the group, who were barely starting to pick their jaws off the floor and makes a shooing motion with his hand. "You lot are dismissed."

Then the man vanishes in a green portal.

There is a ringing silence until Barts blurts out. "I'm pretty sure this is where the Phantom Fan Club first formed. A historical moment."

Tim wants to take a nap.

( Part 1 )

#dcxdp crossover #dc x dp crossover #Child Support #Part 2 #John is trying his best #He's fighting off suitors from his son #Despite being very pretty Danny has a hard time making friends #He's the oldest in Damian's new team #I found the ship Damian/Colin the other day and I love it

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buckyalpine · 10 months

Text

Fluff, domestic cuteness, more fluff, I know it’s not everyone’s thing but pleaseee hear me out; just imagine beeeefy paramedic Bucky taking care of you when you’re in labor. You’re ex decided to leave halfway, realizing he wasn’t ready to be a father when you were already midway through your pregnancy, not that he was much help in the first place. You managed all on your own, ready to bring your little baby into the world all by yourself which is exactly how you ended up in this situation.

You were so close to your due date, ready to pop at any moment but your cravings for a donut didn't cease so you waddled down to the corner coffee shop in hopes of getting something with double chocolate.

Everything was fine until another customer bumped into you, sending you tumbling to the floor. A sudden sharp searin pain began to radiate through the lower half of your belly making you cry out in pain and it didn't take long for a crowd to form, the number of shouting voices and concerned faces adding to your growing anxiety. Al elderly woman held you hand while you tried to hold back tears; you couldn't get up, still laying on the floor when the faint sound of an ambulance grew louder.

A firm voice cleared the path, 2 large men walking towards you, ushering the crowd away from you first. The one with brunette hair crouches over to you, giving you a comforting smile before asking you a few quick basic questions, all while neatly looking over you for any signs of a major injury.

“Up you go, mama” he lifted you up with 0 effort, carrying you carefully in his thick arms, laying you down gently onto the stretcher. A sudden contraction rips through you causing you to panic more while your on your way to the hospital but he takes your hand in his, giving it a squeeze.

"Hey, its okay, look at me doll, focus on me alright?" He continue to hold your hand while monitoring your heart rate and vitals, timing your contractions since they're happening closer and closer together. "I know it won't make the pain go away but how about I try and distract you, hm? My names James but you can call me Bucky" He threw you a wink while you tried your best to focus on the feel of his hand, calloused palms from lifting, yet soft and warm. You focused on his baby blue eyes and scruffy beard and sweet pink lips that curve into a half smile; no doubt he was a shy charmer.

As soon as the ambulance stops, you're whisked away to the delivery ward, poked and prodded by doctors again. None of this was part of the plan and the pain was getting worse.

"How's she doing" Bucky came by the ward on his break, curious about the sweet thing he helped earlier in the day; surely you had a partner of some sort but he couldn't help himself nonetheless. The doctor directed him to your room, his heart breaking seeing your tear streaked, terrified face.

"Everything alright, mama?" He knew you were scared, hell, he was scared himself just thinking about the situation. He rested his hand on top of yours, careful not to touch anywhere near needles. You'd been at this hospital for 2 hours already and you were still alone without another visitor in sight. "Is uh-anyone-do you want me to call anyone-

You shook your head, biting down on your lip to keep it from trembling, gripping onto him tighter. The pain was becoming unbearable, alerting the doctor and nurse to check on you again.

"She's gonna have to start pushing" You overheard the nurse as she spoke to the doctor, your heartrate racing more. Your panic stricken face wasn't missed by Bucky, still planted in his seat as if he had any business being there. He debated on if you felt comfortable with him there, ready to go or stay, whatever you needed.

"Doll, it's almost time, I can leave-

"Please-please don't go" You shakily cling onto his hand, now frozen in fear when you realize the moment is coming. The baby is almost here and you're alone. There's no one here to support you, no one here to-

"M'not going anywhere, I'm here, you're doin' great" Bucky let you squeeze his hand as tightly as you wanted, coaching you through your breathing while you were prepared to have the baby. "C'mon, push mama, you can do it, almost there"

You were in tears, sweating, crying, and Bucky couldn't help but find you beautiful. Not that he'd say that right then and there but there was something so raw and powerful in that moment, seeing you give yourself to bring in another life. He watched in awe as you fought with your body to push a human out of you.

"One more, just one more and your little one is here, you can do it doll, one last big push" He dabbed your forehead with a cool cloth, comforting you until you let out a final gasp, tiny screams filling the room. You fall back against the bed panting and he still holds your hand, gently rubbing your knuckles while giving you a proud smile.

"You did it, you did amazing mama"

After your baby boy is born, you still occasionally visit the hospital for checkups. You can't help the way your cheeks heat up every time you see Bucky, giving him a shy smile, lingering to talk to him longer than necessary every time you see him. You insisted on buying him and the rest of the paramedic crew coffee and donuts for helping you safely deliver your baby boy. Bucky blushes when you give him an extra donuts as a special thank you.

Each time he sees you, he likes you even more but he doesn't want to push his luck. Not when you're probably still trying to figure things out. Initially he's a little unsure, wanting to give you some space. He's also careful not to overstep any boundaries, making sure he's respectful.

Eventually he can't help himself.

He has to ask you out.

And he does.

3 years and a wedding later

You giggle watching your husband and son both press their heads against your swollen belly, whispering secrets to the little one growing inside as if you couldn't see them.

"Daddy, can she hear us?" Daniel asks with wide eyes, his little hands trying to feel the places where his baby sister was kicking.

"She can hear you baby, let her know you're gonna be her big brother" Bucky chuckled while Daniel continued to talk to your belly like he did every night ever since you found out you were pregnant.

"I can't wait to meet you" He hugs your tummy before crawling into Bucky's arms, ready to go to bed. Bucky takes him to his room, laying him down and tucking him in, pressing a kiss to his head before turning off the lights.

"Sleep tight little man"

"Night, daddy"

Your second pregnancy is nothing like your fist. Bucky is there by your side for every second of it. He takes time off work, cradling your belly so you don't have back pain. He reads up on books to take care of your cravings. He worships your changing body.

"Look at you, Mrs. Barnes" Bucky cooed, loving the way you filled out his Henley, your little belly stretching it while you pouted at him.

"I'm huge Bucky" you whined while he grinned, rubbing your tummy.

"S'cause you're carrying my baby, mama" He kissed your head, his large form scooping you up for some midday cuddles. He holds your close to his chest, excited over his growing family. You smile against his chest, closing your eyes while he rubs your back.

You're so happy you decided you wanted a donut.

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strvberrydoll · 1 month

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Rosemary

Summary: Arthur is smacked right in the face with the consequences of his actions as the fate of your relationship is hanging by a thin thread. part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

AO3 link (a better rewritten version of this fic on ao3)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!reader

Content: suggestive, angst, hurt/no comfort (for now) probs grammar errors :/

wc: little under 3k

A/n: before any of you come after me, blame the angst on the bad weather not on me !! (plus we both know you love it <3) anyways reader absolutely eats arthur alive in this chapter so grab your popcorns and tissues !! Next chapter is gonna be the last so it’s gonna take a bit of time to write sorry :(( as always let me know if you like this chapter thank you all for the amazing support you’ve showed for Rosemary <33 gif from pinterest.

The sight of Clemens Point camp emerging from the thick woods surrounding its path, felt strangely like the sight of heaven to Arthur, his muscles aching and screaming at him from the tiring day. Between his visit to Rhodes with Mary and all the manual work Uncle put him under in the morning, the only things he longed for were the softness of his bed and you engulfing him in one of your warm embrace.

Spending three hours chopping wood and gathering whatever material Uncle needed for his mysterious project that supposedly ‘would help a great deal everyone in camp’, proved to be a tiring job even for the camp’s main enforcer, his strength dulled by the biting cold of October and the constant ache of his heart. Each swing of the axe in the air helped Arthur think, his mind consumed by you, trying to figure out what the hell happened for you to act so cold and distant towards him. The image of his darling’s sweet face contorted in an expression of hurt and disappointment at the sole sight of him from this morning hunting his mind, making each swing harsher than the other.

When Uncle decided to call it a day, Arthur internally thanked the maker above as he felt his patience wearing thin every time he called Uncle out for not lifting a finger to help him while the older man comfortably sat under the shade of one of the tall trees near the outskirts of camp complaining about his ‘lumbago’. His relief, though, was short lived as the memory of Mary’s letter flashed in his mind.

Mary had been writing to him almost every two weeks, since her late husband died she had been writing to Arthur asking for help, him being the only male left she knew, after her abusive father went mad, gambling all their possessions away and his brother ran off.

The first letter he received a few months prior left him with a bitter taste in his mouth. He was tempted to just throw it in the bin and forget about it. After years of nothing she found the guts to write to him again, asking to save her little brother from a strange cult that apparently worshiped turtles, as Arthur understood. That first letter woke inside him an anger he thought died down. He needed to confront her. So a few days after receiving the first letter, Arthur rode to Valentine, his mind fixed on refusing to help her, yet after hearing her story out he didn’t find it in him to tell her no.

It’ll be just a one time thing, after this he’ll never see her again. He reassured himself.

But then another letter came and then another, and he felt like a fool for helping her every time. Worse yet, he felt like an absolute bastard lying to you each time he went to help Mary out, always finding an excuse as to why he was out late. His conscience shouting at him to tell you the truth each time he looked into your hypnotizing eyes as you both layed naked in the comfort of your tent, but how could he explain it all to you ?

Mary, on the other hand, knew about you, having heard of you once from Arthur when you first joined the gang, but now she knew about your relationship with him. He told her from their first encounter, quick to not let her think he had any other intentions.

He’d help, sure, but only for old time’s sake.

Although Arthur sensed she wasn’t particularly excited about his newfound love, she respected your relationship, often asking him for updates and lending him some advice. It felt strange talking about you to his ex fiancè but she’d ask and he’d talk, never shying away from an opportunity to talk about his darling girl.

Finally free of Uncle’s relentless job, he jumped on his horse, riding into town to meet with Mary.

The town of Rhodes was particularly busy when Arthur arrived, the usually calm town buzzing with life and chatter. Men and women dressed in all kinds of fancy dresses and tall hats adorned with feathers and ribbons, strolled around town. From what Arthur heard from a couple near the saloon, a famous singer from Saint Denis was doing a show in town.

Suddenly conscious about his rugged and worn out attire he quickly made his way toward the general store, where Mary told him to meet her. Something about buying some plumbing tools, she said. Their evening went smoothly, they chatted away as Arthur helped with her shopping advising her which tools to buy and which ones to avoid. As the moon came high in the sky he escorted her to her accommodation before finally riding back to camp.

––––– ✧ ✦ ✧ –––––

“Who goes there!” the shout of Bill’s voice followed by the cock of his shotgun thundering in the night from his usual lookout position.

“It’s Arthur, you moron.”

As the faint chattering of camp filled Arthur’s ears, images of you began to cloud his mind. He needed to find out what was bothering you. He needed to make it right by you, whatever it’ll cost. He hitched his horse, patting his mane a few times whispering sweet praises that made the horse sway its tail before walking towards your shared tent.

The camp was almost empty, being close to midnight the only people up were Javier who sat near the campfire, tuning the guitar in his lap as Reverend Swanson chatted animatedly about his past life experiences with a tired Mister Pearson who looked worse than one of his stews, and then there was Abigail who was chatting with you at the entrance of your shared tent. The both of you dressed in your best dresses, the sight of your body wrapped in the soft cotton and laces of your dress making Arthur’s heart race.

You were one of God’s angels, his sweetest and most beautiful creation, he was sure of it.

As you noticed his presence coming towards you, you hurriedly whispered something to Abigail, making the brunette widen her eyes, before entering your tent, leaving Abigail outside, her eyes finding Arthur’s as he came to an alt before the opening of your shared tent, her expression resembling the ones she had after a fight with John. Anger and care blended together.

After casting a quick confused glance at Abigail, Arthur ducked through the entrance, his broad stature making his action look quite awkward. Letting his eyes adjust to the dim light that shone from the oil lamp on the bedside table, he cautiously sat down his hat, his expression a mix of confusion and wariness as his eyes found your figure, sitting at the edge of your small cot. The skirt of your dress puffy around you making you look like a doll, your head bowed making it impossible to him to read your face and shoulders stiff, toying with something in your hands. You looked up at him, red eyes filled to the brim with tears that threatened to spill once again. Something in the pit of his stomach told him this was going to be a long night.

"Darlin’," Arthur began, his voice soft as if not to scare a small deer away.

“Don’t you ‘darling’ me,” you slurred a little. He could smell the faint scent of whiskey on your breath, a sign you’d been hanging out with your girl friends.

“Where were you tonight Arthur ?”

He felt his throat tighten at your question. “I jus’ came back from a job,” he unsteadily replied.

"Right, back from your ‘job’ mhh?" you echoed, your voice tight trying with all your might to keep yourself together. You stood up your wobbly legs almost letting you fall, stepping forward, holding out one of the letters as if it were a weapon. "Or back from meeting her?".

Arthur’s brow furrowed in confusion, and then realization dawned. His stomach dropped as he recognized what you were holding, the sight of you holding one of Mary’s letters felt like a punch to his face.

"Darlin’, it ain’t what you think," he started, his voice filled with urgency.

"Then, please, tell me what the hell it is!" you raised your voice, making it crack under all the weight of your emotions. You didn’t care if you were yelling, if you were to wake everyone in camp. You were tired of all the bullshit.

"I found them, Arthur. A whole fucking drawer full of letters from Mary. I might not be the brightest at reading, but I know her damned name when I see it.” despite all your best efforts to remain strong your eyes betrayed you as fresh warm tears run down the path that your previous ones left.

Arthur moved closer trying to take one of your hands in his, you took a step back, shaking your head. "Don't," you whispered, voice breaking.

“I went to Rhodes today with the girls, ya’know to clear my mind a bit from all your bullshit, and guess who I found having the time of their lives together ? Laughing and what not.”

He paused, his hand hovering in the air between the both of you. He wanted to reach out, to hold you, to dry your tears and comfort you, to explain, but he knew you needed to hear the truth first. "Please darlin’, you’ve got to believe me. Mary’s just, she's just- I’m just helpin’ her out. Her husband died, and she’s got no one else,"

You let out a harsh, humorless laugh at his poor explanation. Did he really take you for this big of a fool ? Was this really what he thought of you ? Tears poured down even more from your eyes at the realization. "And you, what? You swoop in to save her like some kind of hero? What are you mh, tell me Arthur, are you her bitch ready to bark if she told you to ?”

The venom spilling from your words hit Arthur hard, making him physically flinch as your words hit him right into his face. His heart shattering at your sight, you were physically and mentally distraught. All because he didn’t have the courage to tell you everything from the start.

“You’re still in love with her, aren’t you? Gosh, all this time, Arthur, all this damn time I’ve just been, what? A distraction? Something to pass the time until you could get her back? Poor silly me, thinking I mattered something to you !" Now you definitely woke someone up, your throat burned as you shouted your whole heart out at Arthur, you felt disgusted, dirty even. The alcohol you previously drowned your sorrows into making you nauseous.

You were ready to give your heart to Arthur, you gave him everything. If he asked you the moon you’d give it to him.

And here you were, the biggest fool in the West, thinking you could have a space in Arthur’s heart.

"What, no!" Arthur’s shout was raw, it definitely hurt his throat, you never heard him shout this way, you never heard him shout at you at all. His voice filled with a mix of frustration and fear. He took another step toward you, stretching his hands out in search of your trembling ones, but you stumbled back, almost tripping over the edge of the cot.

"Darlin’, you’ve got to believe me, I'm beggin’ ya”

“You’ve been lying to me for weeks, Arthur. For weeks you’ve been kissing me, lying in bed with me, you’ve been telling me that you love me while lying to me, for god’s sake ! How am I supposed to believe anything you say now?"

"Because I’m tellin’ you the truth!" Arthur pleaded, his voice thick, cracking with emotion. He could sense your heart getting further and further away from his. He wanted nothing more than to take your pain away seeing the way your shoulders shook with the force of your sobs. He wanted to reach out, to pull you into one of his bear hugs you always loved and make you believe him, but the distance between the both of you felt like a chasm too wide to cross anymore. The only bridge between you deteriorating before his very own eyes.

"Sweetheart, I love you. I always loved you, you’re the only one I care about."

But you shook your head, circling away from him before hitting the cold canvas of the tent wall.

"Don’t," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your sobs. "Don’t say that. You don’t get to say that after everything you’ve done to me… after all these lies."

"Darlin’, please…" Arthur broke down, his voice saturated with panic as he saw you back towards the exit of your tent, his eyes desperate as he looked at you. "I never meant to hurt you. I thought I was doing the right thing, keeping this from you. I thought- I thought I could handle it on my own, that it would be over before you ever had to know. But I see now I see how big of a moron I was, how fucking wrong I was."

You looked at him, your face twisted in pain, your heart painfully torn between the love you still felt for him and the harsh betrayal you couldn’t shake away. "I can’t do this, Arthur," you meekly said, your voice trembling. "I can’t…I can’t be with someone who doesn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth. Who lies straight to my face as if nothing."

Arthur’s heart shattered at your words. He couldn’t believe this was happening, not again. He was not losing the love of his life again. But unfortunately he could see the resolve slowly hardening in your eyes, the way you were getting yourself ready to walk away. Every cell of his body was screaming at him to find a way to keep you. "Don’t leave me, sweetheart," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "Please, don’t do this. I’ll do anything… I’ll tell you everything, from now on. I’ll never see Mary again, just don’t go. Don’t leave me alone." he finished his sentence, his tone slowly going down to a mere whisper. His eyes filling with tears.

But you were already pulling away, turning your back on him as you moved toward the tent flap. Slightly hesitating with your hand on the thick canvas, your body trembling with the force of the decision you were about to make. If you did this there was no turning back. But this wasn’t your fault.

"I need to think," you said emotionless, your voice hollow as your sobs died down, leaving you with a hole in your heart, "I need…I need some time for myself."

"No, please don’t…" Arthur’s voice was choked with tears he wouldn’t let fall from his eyes. But it was too late.

You slipped out of the tent into the cold harsh night, leaving Arthur motionless at the center of the cold emptiness of your shared tent, feeling the walls closing in around him. The crushing realization that he might have just lost the one person who truly meant everything to him came down on him at once making his head spin.

Alone in the darkness, Arthur finally let the tears fall, each one a silent plea for a second chance he wasn’t sure he deserved.

––––– ✧ ✦ ✧ –––––

You needed to get away from him, to get away from everything right now. You felt that if you were just a second more inside that tent you’d take him into your arms, begging him to never let you go. But you couldn’t.

He lied to you, you didn’t care about Mary, about his secret rendezvous with her. He lied to you. That’s all you could think of.

Realizing that Arthur could easily follow you in camp you decided to completely get out of camp. You needed space, from him, from everyone. You just wanted to be alone.

Venturing into the woods at night wasn’t the smartest choice you’ve made per se, but a small ounce of alcohol was running through your veins still and you decided to blame it for your poor choice.

The moonlight shone brightly, illuminating faintly your surroundings, the harsh chill of the midnight weather biting your exposed hands as you once again forgot your gloves.

You swallowed down the lump in your throat as more tears threatened to spill from your tired eyes, you were near the clearing you and Arthur found out a few weeks ago, in need of some privacy when your mouths were chasing each other and his hands, warm and calloused, explored your exposed back, your touches burning with raw desire.

The memory of that night burned in your heart when suddenly you heard a twig snap. You turned towards the direction of the sound fear taking over you, shaking every cell in your body. You were physically and emotionally drained, you didn't have a gun with you, not even a knife. The only thing left to do was pray it was just a fox wandering around.

And then you felt it, a sharp burning pain in the back of your head, kicking the air out of your lungs.

The last thing you saw was the forest floor.

Before darkness took over you.

#.rira’s posting ౨ৎ ⋆#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan angst #rdr2 arthur #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead fandom

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coff33andb00ks · 3 months

Text

American Idiot - LS

American Idiot pairing: Logan Sargeant x reader summary: rule #1: don't fall in love. rule #2: don't break rule #1. rule #3: you broke both rules didn't you? word count: 3567 warnings: smut (18+ only), not proofread, Logan has a bit of a frat guy attitude in parts, mentions of past sexual assault (non explicit) {your mental health is more important than any engagement I get on this, so please don't read if that is a triggering subject for you ❤️} a.n.: here I wrote a happy thing for logan

"Yes, baby, just like that," he moaned, gripping her hips tighter. He wanted to watch her but his eyes slipped shut and he dug his fingers into her skin. "Gonna make me cum."

Y/n suddenly lifted off him, causing his eyes to snap open. Her face was screwed up and at first he thought she was in the middle of cumming, but she let out a pained whine and he decided that couldn't be it.

"What," he gasped, wincing when her knee slammed into his hip as she collapsed next to him.

"Cramp," she whimpered. She lay on her side, almost perfectly still, leg bent at the knee while she lightly punched the mattress. "Fuck."

Logan exhaled harshly and dragged a hand over his face before shifting, sitting up. He could see her calf muscle clenched, lightly spasming under her skin and winced. "It's okay, I've got you."

"There's nothing you can – ow!" she cried out when he gently grasped her ankle and extended her leg. Immediately she was trying to bend it back but he kept it straight. "Logan, no, it hurts!"

"Relax, let me rub it out," he said softly, cupping his other hand over her calf. He began to massage, keeping his touch light at first while she pressed her face into the pillow and nearly screeched in pain. "Y/n, just breathe—"

"Fuck you," she whimpered. "I'm never riding you again. I always get a leg cramp."

"Because you don't stretch," he pointed out, applying more pressure.

She just turned her head and looked at him.

"What?" he asked.

"Oh, just waiting for you say you expect me to stretch you."

"I thought it went without saying."

She tried to kick him, hissing and tensing at the pressure it put on her cramp. "It's not working, Logan."

"I've been doing it for thirty seconds," he sighed. Leaning over, he kissed her cheek. "Please just relax, okay?"

She exhaled slowly. "It hurts, Logie."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. I'll never ask you to be on top again," he assured her, feeling the cramp starting to loosen. She whined and he was quick to shush her. "Breathe, baby."

She did, slowly and deeply, occasionally groaning in pain as he manipulated the muscle. "Sorry for ruining the sex."

"We can try later," he said with a shrug.

"Maybe I have plans."

"Do you?" he asked. He would be surprised if she did. She tended to stay in on a Saturday night, getting her drinks and partying done on Fridays so she could enjoy the weekend.

"No," she mumbled. "Do you?"

"Only thing I'm doing tonight is you."

She laughed at that, humming when he bent and straightened her knee. "Were you really about to cum?"

"Yeah, but it's fine." It wasn't as though she'd leave him hanging. It was the whole reason behind their arrangement: neither party leaves a meeting unsatisfied.

She'd typed out the agreement in full legalese. Then she'd presented it to him as though arguing a case in front of a jury. Complete with a sexy suit that had only encouraged him to agree and sign so they could get to business.

"Mm," she moaned.

"Better?" He already knew the answer. Her muscle was fully relaxed now, though he was sure it would be sore for a while. She nodded and he kissed her cheek again before sliding off the bed to throw away the wasted condom.

"Thanks, Logie," she murmured when he rejoined her in the bed. She scooted over, hissing softly as she lifted her leg to drape it over his. "Just give me a few minutes."

Her few minutes turned into an hour long nap but he didn't complain. Content to lie with her, he smoothed her hair while she slept, a little amused. She'd been his friend for years, and if anyone had told him even two years before he'd be sleeping with her regularly he would have laughed in their face. But here he was, and as he reached for the covers to pull over them it occurred to him that if he couldn't have sex with her when she woke up he wouldn't be too upset.

"You're so busy with racing, you can't spare time to make an emotional connection with someone enough to sleep with them. I'm busy with work and I'd rather kiss a frog on live tv than let some loser I meet at the club fuck me. It makes perfect sense."

It did, so he'd agreed. Maybe she caught him in a lonely moment, or an extremely horny one. Maybe she'd caught him during a dry spell. Either way, he'd agreed to become platonic lovers with her.

Friends with benefits.

Fuck buddies.

Booty calls.

She'd been right, it was beneficial. He was usually so sexually satisfied that when he met someone he could see as a potential mate, he could focus on actually getting to know them as opposed to getting them in bed. And, having met her coworkers and more than a few of the losers that went to the clubs she did, he knew he had to be a better option than what she had around regularly.

"No falling in love. We're friends, nothing more. No jealousy. If you find someone to love I'll be over the moon, and if I find someone you'll be happy. No unprotected sex. I don't want to be a mom before I'm 25 and you're not ready to be a dad. We both agree to regularly get tested if we sleep with other people. And, lastly, if one of us wants to end the arrangement we end it. Most importantly, we remain friends."

At first it had been amazing. Guaranteed pussy whenever he wanted or needed it? He'd been sold on the idea before she'd even finished the suggestion. If he was away for a race he could just call or FaceTime her for a quick phone sex session?

Amazing.

No pressure. No worries. He didn't have to deal with the girlfriend stuff. He didn't have to remember important dates or to pick up something for her on his travels. She didn't expect him to be her date to work events or to go around pretending to care about the stuff she wanted to buy.

And they still hung out. Sometimes before, sometimes after. Nothing had changed at all in their friendship. She still called him out for being a douchebag, he still insulted her music taste, they still laughed while watching stupid movies.

It was, he thought, like having a girlfriend without all the work.

Until, suddenly, it was different.

He didn't know why he'd bought the stuffed animal in Miami. Probably because she'd said she liked eagles. And it had an American flag shirt on which made it even better in his opinion. But he'd bought it, he'd shown it to Oscar, who'd groaned and laughed and called him painfully American, he'd packed it in his suitcase for the trip back to England.

And he was watching her take it out of the gift bag now, a big stupid grin on his face when she began to laugh.

"Oh my god I love it," she said, hugging it to her chest then hugging him.

That was why he'd bought it, he thought a few minutes later when she was on her knees, staring up at him with pure lust in her eyes. And then he noticed that she kept it on her bed.

She went to Switzerland for something work related. He didn't know what, because she'd told him right before going down on him. They FaceTimed when they could during the two weeks she was out of the country, and when she got back she had a gift for him.

A cuckoo clock.

He loved it and laughed every time it went off, and felt a little rush of warmth because she'd thought of him. It turned out she hated it, because it had a knack for cuckooing loudly just when she was about to come, but he made up for that. At least, going by the way she'd murmur yay when he went down on her.

"So today marks the anniversary of the worst day of my life," she announced one summer afternoon as she walked into his place.

Logan grunted when she pushed her shopping bag at him. "Which worst day?" he asked, closing the door. "When you got dumped by that dickhead Dave?"

"No, that was in November."

"When you caught your boss cheating?" He peered into the bag and set it down, following her to the sofa.

"That was January, and that wasn't a worst day, just a weird day. Like, bad because he can't keep it in his pants but also good because I got a raise." Kicking off her shoes, she flopped onto the sofa.

He racked his brains, going over as many of her worst days as he could recall. The time she'd gotten food poisoning in Brighton? Apparently that had been in March. The time a guy got sick on her in the club? October, how could he forget? The asshole had ruined her costume. Groaning, he threw his head back in defeat, realizing he was rubbing her feet. "You gotta help me out, babe."

"Wow, you did forget." She sighed dramatically, throwing an arm over her face. "And I thought you weren't like other guys? Do you even love me, Logan?"

"I'm rubbing your gross feet—"

"They're not gross I just had a pedicure this – Fuck you," she snorted when he laughed.

"I'm rubbing your amazing feet," he corrected with a roll of his eyes. "The most beautiful feet in the world—"

"Ew, don't make it weird." She lowered her arm and sat up. "But really? You don't remember?"

"No… Wait, was it that time the guy came before you could put the condom on?"

"No, it's – Actually that's next week. Do you know I saw him a few days ago? He pretended he didn't know who I was."

"You made the guy cum in seconds, y/n."

"Okay, and? I made you cum in a minute thirty and you still talk to me."

"You…" He tipped his head. "You timed it?"

"It's my personal best. Aside from Preemie Pete but he doesn't really count because I didn't even do anything to him except grind on him—"

"What's my nickname?" Logan asked suddenly.

"Logie?" She looked confused. "Logie Bear."

"No, no, my nickname. Preemie Pete, Dickhead Dave. You called that guy you met at the store Sainsbury's Steve and the firefighter was Fireman Fred. What do you call me when you talk about me with the girls?"

"That's classified information. I'm not at liberty to discuss it with you, as you are not one of the girls."

"Bullshit, because you've told me all the others," he pointed out. "Go on, tell me."

"Logie—"

"I'm not like Car Guy am I? Because that—"

"Wishbone."

He stopped rubbing her feet, fully turning to face her. "Wishbone?"

"Yeah. Wishbone." She swung her feet to the floor and moved to stand. "We still doing dinner?"

He grabbed her arm and dragged her back down. "Why Wishbone?"

"It's stupid," she groaned, pretending to fight against his hold. "All the nicknames are stupid, they don't really mean – When I first told them about you we'd just met and I said I wished the stupid American would bone me, okay?"

He let her go, even more confused now. "But I have."

"Yes," she said slowly, getting to her feet. "Many times."

"Then why am I still a wish?"

"Well they don't know you're fucking me." She shrugged, grabbing up her bag and heading to the kitchen.

He let that marinate in his brain for a minute before getting up to follow her. "Why don't they know?"

"I don't tell th… Right, I do tell them everything. But they know I was super into you back then and if they found out that you're the only guy I'm sleeping with they'd never stop teasing me. Chicken or salmon?"

"Chicken." She'd been into him back when they met? He tried to remember, to see if he could recall any obvious signs she'd wanted him then, but couldn't. Could only remember her rolling her eyes and looking annoyed when he talked about anything.

But he did remember—

"Oh, y/n," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

"I'm okay," she said quickly. "It was years ago. I'm pretty much over it."

"Don't lie to make me feel better." Because she did. Especially when it came to that. Pretty much over it. Rarely think about it. So far in the past it's hardly worth mentioning. But it was the reason she still slept with a light on. The reason she never went out alone at night. The reason she was wary of new men entering her life. The reason she was hyper aware of her surroundings in public, always mapping out an escape route if needed. It was one of the reasons behind her need to joke and laugh about everything, because she had to keep people liking her. It was the reason she spent so many of her precious days off working with the sexual abuse charity, willing to tell her horror over and over again so girls with similar cruelties would feel seen and understood.

He hadn't known her then. Would never know what she'd been like before her innocence and faith in humanity had been fractured. He only knew her as the woman she was. Fierce and protective and stronger than anyone he would ever know. He often wished he didn't know what had happened to her on that horrible night, but felt honored that she trusted him enough to share that side of her life with him.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked softly. She shook her head.

"Can we cook together?" she whispered.

"Of course." He hesitated, finally reaching to squeeze her shoulder. She lifted her head and he saw the tears shining in her eyes. She may not have wanted to talk about it, may have wanted him to just step away and wash his hands or whatever, but he pulled her to him, tucking his chin on her head while he held her, keeping silent while she let herself cry.

Wishing he could meet the monster face to face for just ten minutes.

He held her until her shoulders stopped shaking, until she sniffled and let go of his shirt. Pressing a kiss into her hair, he let go and offered to turn on music, making sure to pull up the playlist of songs that were cheerful and lighthearted. They cooked, or rather she cooked while he stood to the side to hand her things and clean up, and ate on the couch, watching her favorite movie.

And he realized it was his favorite movie now.

She stayed the night and he didn't care that she didn't want sex. Didn't care that she pulled her stuffed eagle out of her bag and held it close while he got ready for bed. Didn't care that the lamp was on. He was just happy to be there for her, to hold her while she fell asleep and then lie there watching her sleep. Even rocks needed support sometimes.

And it struck him – a full two months later – that he looked forward to just seeing her more than he looked forward to the sex. She'd become more than his best friend, more than his hookup, and he panicked constantly that he'd somehow let on that he'd broken the first rule of their arrangement.

But he had the feeling she knew, especially when he went straight to her office after flying in from Singapore to see her instead of going straight home to sleep off the jet leg. Her eyes lit up and she smiled brighter than the weak sun ever could, and when she hugged him tight and told him she'd missed him he knew she meant it.

"Dinner tomorrow?" he asked before leaving. The answer was yes and, no longer exhausted or feeling mediocre as he sometimes did after a race, he went home with a smile on his face.

She showed up at his door with that bright smile and oohed and aahed over the candles and the flowers. Teased him for being a try hard for wearing a suit and kissed his cheek.

Dinner might have tasted divine. Or it might have tasted like sawdust. He would never know.

"Logie?"

God, she was beautiful. Always had been, he realized, wondering why he'd been so blind until just recently. But tonight, in her light blue dress and her eyes sparkling in the candlelight, she was stunning.

Heartbreakingly so. Because she would only ever be his friend.

"Yeah?" he finally murmured, realizing he was staring.

She stood up and left the table, coming back with her purse. Pulling out some papers, she sat down and bit her lip. "We need to talk."

Never a good thing when a woman said that. Swallowing hard, he took a sip of water to push down the lump in his throat. "About what?"

"You remember this?" She held up the papers and he nodded, seeing the contract she'd typed up and printed out for them both to sign.

"You want to end it?" he asked, anxiety curling in his chest, embarrassment heating his face at the way his voice cracked mid-sentence. Had she met someone?

"I think we need to," she said with a frown.

"Wh-why?" God, she'd met someone and hadn't told him and even worse, she'd fallen in love and now he'd be alone—

"I broke rule number one," she blurted.

"We don't have to end it," he said. "Rules get broken all the time. We can work it out—"

"Logie—"

"I can't go back to random meaningless hookups anymore. I can't go back to models that don't know their ass from a hole in the ground—"

She let out a sharp giggle at that, clapping a hand over her mouth. "Logan!"

"I can't do it, y/n. Not when I've had the best thing that's ever happened to me. And I'm not even talking about the sex, it's just… We've spent more time together and I know I wasn't supposed to but I did it anyway because my heart's stupid I guess. I can't just go back to nothing with you—"

"Do you even remember what rule number one was?" she cut in, staring at him with wide eyes.

He froze, blinking slowly. "The one about protection, right?"

"Oh my god," she groaned, slapping her palm to her forehead. "No, Logan. Of course you don't remember. But you do, because you always remember everything, like how I need to sleep with a light on and can't watch horror movies after dark and that I only like white wine even if I'm eating red meet. You play the part of a fucking idiot so well because it shields you from people wanting to get too close and knowing the real you, like you're not the greatest thing America's made since chocolate chip cookies. Like you don't have a heart bigger than Texas."

"Um, y/n—"

"Which is exactly why I broke the stupid fucking rule that I made, because how could I not?" She threw the papers down and covered her face with both hands. "I didn't do it on purpose, you know? But I fucking did it, I fell for you, because the only bad thing about you is your annoying American pride."

"Y/n—"

"And it took everything in me to tell you this, but at least now I know you don't want to change this. You're happy just being fuck buddies and I have to be okay with it because I was the goddamned idiot that wrote the rules—"

"I love you too," he blurted.

She stopped. Lowered her hands. And stared at him.

"I love you," he said softly. "Always have, I think. I just… Never realized it until I wasn't supposed to."

"When did you know?" she whispered.

He sighed, shrugging one shoulder. He couldn't tell her. It would be embarrassing to admit he'd been holding it in since—

"Miami?" she asked.

"Oh come on, how could you know that?"

"Logan Hunter Sargeant, you brought me a stuffed eagle. You hate stuffed animals!"

"Yeah, but I love you."

She stared at him for a few seconds. Then, to his confusion, she began to laugh.

His favorite sound, followed very closely by her moan.

"Oh god, Logie," she giggled.

"When did you know?" he asked once she'd stopped laughing.

"When you left for Miami and I cried because I couldn't go with you," she said.

"God, we're both idiots," he muttered. Then he sat up straight. "Wait, hey, you said… You love me?"

She laughed again, nodding, and stayed laughing while he grabbed the papers and ripped them in half. And was still giggling when he pulled her to her feet and caught her in a sweet kiss.

"And we did break the protection rule," he whispered a lifetime later when they pulled apart.

"You pulled out, doesn't count."

"That's not in the rules."

She rolled her eyes, wrapping her arms around him. "There aren't any rules anymore, Wishbone."

~end~

#f1 #logan sargeant #f1 imagine #formula 1 #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 imagine #logan sargeant smut #logan sargeant x reader #my writings > ls

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ddejavvu · 10 months

Note

hii could you write animagus!reader x sirius, she’s “making biscuits” in Sirius lap/tummy and the boys are like “she’s marking her territory”

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12 / part 13

James peers over the novel that he's reading, squinting at you where you lay on Sirius's chest. Well, you're not really laying as much as you are perching, your legs bent but in use as you use them for leverage. You've been kneading the soft layer of pudge that's grown over Sirius's stomach after months away from the Black family Manor, and he's more than happy to let you do so as he listens to the music that's playing from their almost-busted record player behind his bed.

"Another long shift at the biscuit factory," James sighs teasingly, "Babe, I ordered mine an hour ago. What's the holdup?"

"Patience, James," Remus muses, his lanky legs crossed over Sirius's as he sits perpendicular to the boy on his mattress. He reaches out to rub between your ears, and you offer him a grateful purr, but you don't slow in your pursuits, "She's new, alright? Cut her some slack."

"She shouldn't have started a job she can't finish," James scoffs, "That's irresponsible."

"Well you've started a novel you won't finish, and that's for a grade," Remus bites back, "I don't recall you offering Y/N any form of payment for her services."

"I-" James starts, with an air of indignance so like him, but Sirius cuts him off.

"Prongs, please." He levels his friend with a cautious glance, "Don't aggravate her. It's my stomach she's diggin' her claws into, here. If you keep it up I'm gonna bleed. I'm all for her marking her territory, but I'd rather not spring a leak."

James's nose wrinkles, but still he persists, as only James Potter is capable of despite better judgement telling him to stop, "Well that's just poor restaurant quality; she should keep her workspace clean."

A yowl is all the forewarning that James gets before you use Sirius's stomach as a launchpad and spring at him where he lounges in bed, but he doesn't complain, because his now-bloodstained thumb gives him a good excuse to stop reading.

#sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius black scenario #sirius black oneshot #sirius black one-shot #sirius black one shot #sirius black headcanon #sirius black headcanons #sirius black hc #sirius black hcs #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fic #sirius black blurb #sirius black drabble #sirius black dialogue #sirius black fluff #sirius black x reader fanfiction

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xveenusx · 1 year

Text

You

Paring(s): JJ maybank x fem!reader

Summary: Request- John b's little sister grew up with JJ. Both boys are protective of her but when John B and Sarah leave on the boat, she only has JJ. She realizes she has feelings for him, not knowing he feels the same.

Authors note: I decided I could give you guys a sprinkle of fluff and slight smut after the last two pieces! This takes place at the beginning of season 2 where they believe Sarah and John b are dead.

Also, someone complained about the length of my pieces. I know they’re long but it’s just my writing style. I like for the readers to feel what the main character is feeling. If the length bothers you, then don’t read it!

_______________

Angry.

That’s how I felt.

At myself. At my dad. At John B.

When we first lost our dad, it didn’t feel real. I waited outside on the steps of the chateu hoping to see him come back on his boat. Suddenly, hours turned to days which turned into months and the hope that filled my chest shrank bit by bit until I no longer sat outside.

Instead, John B and I did what we could. After successfully evading CPS, we decided it was best to lay low. That was the thing about us, we always managed to make the best out of a shitty situation because let’s face it, being born on the cut was shitty situation after shitty situation.

Unfortunately, it felt like the stress had finally caught up to me. Being surrounded by unfamiliar people caused a bitter sense of panic to fill my very core. My anxiety had amplified tenfold as the once out going girl became completely sheltered.

It was safer that way. At least, if I isolated myself, losing someone else won’t hurt as bad as this. Because as long as I had my brother, everything else was manageable.

Losing my dad was tough, almost impossible but at least I had John B.

Until, I didn’t.

It didn’t hit me until I saw the boat capsize with my brother and Sarah in it. I was truly an orphan, in every sense of the word.

My knees had given out as every emotion crashed into my body like a violent tsunami. A silent scream leaving my body as I could no longer hold myself up.

Familiar arms caught me just as I was about to hit the floor, the rain pounded into my skin like thousands of needles. As I drew in a sharp breath, my voice impossible to find, a delicate smell of sex wax and salt filled my nose.

JJ.

“Please breathe. I need you to take a b-breath,” He pleaded, his voice shook in obvious grief. He had just lost his brother too.

I couldn’t seem to do what he was asking. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing for this nightmare to end, but thought after thought slammed into my head repeatedly. My chest squeezed tightly, so tight that I began to claw at it, desperate to relieve the tension.

Yet, nothing seemed to work. I could see him now, his image blurred due to the tears falling from my eyes. His mouth was moving but I couldn’t hear anything.

My fingers slowly started to cramp due to the lack of oxygen from my inability to calm down. The tidal wave known as anxiety pulled me deep, my vision slowly becoming black before my unconscious body falls limp in the arms of my brother’s best friend.

_________

I hated this sign.

My eyes glared at the makeshift headstone my friends made for Sarah and John B that was carved into the tree.

It served as another reminder that my brother left me.

I’ve become close friends with anger and sadness.

Our friends tried to give me a sense of stability and normalcy, one that I’ve been lacking since the moment our dad died. Kie always stopped by bringing left overs from her parent’s restaurant. Pope would help me with my homework and go over scholarship options. I knew he was trying to help me plan for the future, but we both knew he was the only one that could really get out. I welcomed the distraction and tried to enjoy the small bubble I’ve created for myself.

And then, there was JJ.

JJ was special.

He all but moved in to the chateau, never leaving me alone in my thoughts for too long. He took up a serving job at some kook club to feed us and always brought me with him. I would sit in a small corner throughout, his shifts and enjoy his company.

In a way, I think it was for him just as much as it was for me. We had both bonded over the loss of my brother and it caused an invisible string to tether us together in a way that almost felt intimate.

I blew out a breath.

Standing up, I wiped off the dirt from my thighs and flexed my hands. JJ was on his way to pick me up and take me to the annual bonfire here on the island.

When he asked me, my first reaction was an immediate no. I had avoided going near large groups of people since they believed my brother to be a murder, therefore, making me guilty by association. Just the thought of surrounding myself around those people made my skin itch.

But I also knew that we were both desperate to feel the closest thing to normal that we could find.

What he didn’t know was that feeling of normalcy could only be achieved when he was with me. Breathing was easier when he was with me, living was easier.

The familiar sound of a bike engine caused my stomach to flutter with nerves.

“You ready?”

Inhaling deeply, I turned around to see JJ leaning against his bike looking every bit as handsome as the first time I laid eyes on him. He was grinning, something he reserved just for me, with a toothpick on one side.

If he was here, then I’d be able to do anything.

“I go where you go.”

JJ’s blue eyes shined at my words. He shot me his infamous smirk that nearly caused the butterflies in my stomach to erupt.

“You got that right. Get on the bike, let’s get the fuck out of here.”

My brain was my biggest enemy. It had a tendency to disrupt whatever sense of peace I had and destroy it with every self sabotaging thought I’ve ever had.

In this case, my brain wanted to know just how many girls sat there before me.

Noticing my hesitation, JJ raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “What’s up?”

“I just don’t want to get cooties from all the girls you let on this thing.”

He rolled his eyes. “Get your ass on the bike.”

My feet moved towards the bike as I mumbled under my breath. Stopping in front of him, JJ brushes some loose strands of my hair out of my face before grabbing the helmet that was on the seat.

I reached for it but JJ shoved my hands away, shooting me a flat look. Huffing, I stood there as JJ placed the helmet on my head, tightening the strap under my chin.

“Why do I have to wear a helmet and you don’t?”

“Because you matter.” His response was immediate.

Speechless, I said nothing more as he continued with the unnecessary pampering before he finally let me on the bike. Revving the engine, JJ kicks up the stand before reaching behind and grabbing my arm, settling it around his waist. He tapped my thigh twice to signal we were going and we took off.

I clung to his body, watching as the greenery blurred into one large mass, my thoughts doing the same.

You matter.

But what did that mean? What did it mean to him? What did I mean to him?

Because, I knew exactly what he meant to me.

There were small moments we shared. Our eye contact would stay on each other for a beat too long or his hands would linger just a minute longer than normal.

I knew, at least for me, our friendship had reached a very blurred line. My feelings for him seemed to consume me but I couldn’t tell how he felt. No one ever could, JJ didn’t let them.

He would say things like this that would completely throw me out of the loop. So we settled into a routine, one that resembled a relationship yet we weren’t in one.

The familiar cackle of the fire and shouts of excitement signaled that we were close to the party. Unease leaked into my bloodstream as I flexed my fingers into JJ’s shirt, the nerves sky rocketing.

JJ parked next to some truck but my focus was broken. My eyes jumped all over, taking in the scene all while trying to remind myself to breathe. People were shot gunning while others were playing beer pong, kooks and pouges alike.

Everyone was laughing and smiling, but it all seemed foreign to me. This was what I used to do, when things weren’t as complicated and dark as they were now. It felt almost wrong to go dancing and drinking when my life was in shambles.

A small touch to my wrist pulled me out of my thoughts as I turned to face JJ. A look of concern painted his face as he pressed his fingers against my wrist, checking my pulse.

“JJ, I’m fine.” I said exasperated but secretly, I adored how he took care of me. It made me feel like to him, I was different than all the other girls.

I just couldn’t decipher if he took care of me out of obligation to John B or because he actually cared for me.

He picked up this habit after I passed out in his arms. JJ always brushed his fingers against the inside of my wrist, just to double check that I wasn’t going to pass out again.

My anxiety was yet another monster I had to tackle after I lost John B and JJ was the only one that could calm me down. He weighed me down like an anchor.

“Look at me,” he demanded, his fingers lifting my chin causing my eyes to meet his.

His gaze ran over every inch of my face before a small satisfied smile played his lips.

“Do you believe me now?”

JJ shot me a wink, before cupping my face gently. “I’ll be back with tequila, don’t move.”

A small laugh left my mouth. “JJ, I don’t hang out with anyone else.”

“I’m all you can handle anyways, baby.”

My stomach dipped at the term of endearment. Laughing it off, I shooed him away and within seconds people were calling out his name, tugging him into their groups.

He seemed relax—happy even—to be surrounded by familiar people that I’m sure made him feel normal. I wanted him to have that, god, did I want him to have that.

So I ignored the nausea that nipped at my throat and spent the next five minutes looking around, hoping to spot Pope or Kie with no luck.

JJ deserved some time that didn’t involve watching me.

Only, I didn’t expect him to disappear for the rest of the night.

Hours later, I pushed passed the sweaty, overheated bodies as the bass of the music trembled through the air rattling my chest. The mass of bodies caused a layer of sweat to cover my body the further I went into the crowd. Intense rap music was being blasted instantly getting a reaction by the drug induced people around me.

Just by a simple sweep of the overcrowded property, I gave it a solid half hour before the cops showed up.

A large figure stumbled into me, beer sloshing onto my top. I gasped, stepping back slightly wincing at the cold liquid dripping down my stomach.

"Sorry," He slurred before stumbling back into the mosh pit of raging teens.

A familiar laugh rang out and almost immediately my body reacted to it. It was odd. After years of hearing his voice and his laugh, you would think I'd have gotten used to it by now, but no.

The effect he had on my body left me stunned.

My eyes were drawn to him instantly. I blocked everything else out.

His head was tilted back as he belted out another laugh. JJ was leaning against a wall with a hand holding a beer bottle loosely and the other moving as he spoke animatedly to the group that surrounded him.

His sun touched skin complimented his bright blue orbs that shined with a child-like wonder. JJ’s golden colored locks were thick and fell into a messy heap on his head, loose strands brushing against his forehead.

The black cut muscle tee he wore displayed every muscle as he continued to move his arms to accompany his storytelling.

JJ Maybank was a sight for sore eyes.

He was still talking rapidly when he glanced up and locked eyes with mine. JJ’s ocean eyes shined as he shot me a megawatt smile nearly sending me to my knees. He stopped mid-conversation and motioned for me to come over, his eyes once again gleaming with a unspoken level of affection.

I remained frozen. Sometimes this happened. I got overwhelmed by just how much I needed him.

JJ managed to knock me off my feet a solid five times a day. Each time welcomed even more than the last.

He bit his lip, stopping a smile as he bid his friends goodbye and began walking over to where I stood, running a hand through his hair messily.

I opened my mouth, not knowing what to say when a manicured hand rested itself on his stomach, stopping him in his tracks.

“Haven’t see you in awhile. Where ya been?”

Stacey Williams had this thing about her.

What it was, I couldn’t say, but it was enough for JJ to keep going back for more. She was the only other girl in his life that he gave a fraction of his attention to.

That fact alone made me nervous.

Just walk away, JJ. Please just walk away.

Instead, he took a seat next to her and shot her smile that was reserved for me.

People stumble between us, blocking my view but I could still hear them conversing.

“You know me, Steis. I’m here, I’m there. Just doin’ me.”

She let out a giggle causing me to roll my eyes. He’s really not that funny.

“You haven’t been answering my calls. I figured, tonight you could come over and we could talk.”

My stomach tied itself in knots at the silence on his end. It was almost like he was contemplating going.

“I -I can’t tonight. I came with John b’s sister.”

I winced. That’s all I was to him?

I could see Stacey lean forward and slip her hand along the open slit of his muscle tee. “She follows you around like a lost puppy, JJ. It’s almost sad if it wasn’t so weird.”

I saw him shake his head. “It’s not like that, we’re both just dealing with everything the best way we can.”

Stacey rolled her eyes before she took a sip of her drink, “JJ, your hot but please tell me you’re not that blind. The girl is basically in love with you.”

Judging by the way JJ froze, I now knew that I misjudged every interaction we’ve had to this point. He didn’t even notice how I felt.

“What-I mean-no. She’s just a girl that needs help. I mean, come on. She’s just John B’s sister.”

The only thing more humiliating than finding out the person you want doesn’t want you, is finding out they were only there for you because of an obligation.

I wasn’t special to him. I was just John B’s little sister.

I think another part of me died right there, because yet again, I have lost another person I loved.

But this time, he wasn’t gone, no—he was right in front of me, but he might as well have been a million miles away or six feet under.

Eavesdropping is the quickest way to a broken heart. Words not meant for your ears strike your heart in a brutal assault until nothing remained.

Finally, the crowd that separated us moved and I stood there stupidly staring at him.

Feeling the weight of my gaze, JJ turned his head and his eyes widened before settling into a look of guilt.

I tore my gaze off of him and looked at her. The smug smile she wore told me she intended for me to hear what he had said.

My face heated, and I glanced down at the drink in my hand. How could I be so fucking stupid?

Ignoring the sickening twists in my stomach, I tossed back the strong liquor in my cup. The burning trail the tequila left is the feeling I decided to focus on.

Spinning around, my eyes searched for another cooler, desperate to keep the burning feeling going.

“Shit-Wait,” I could hear JJ shouting for me but I kept moving.

Finding a handle of tequila, I flicked the top off and took a pull. The bitter burn fell over my body with a fuzzy warmth.

JJ knocks the bottle out of my hand.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

“Since when do you drink like that?” He asked.

“Go away, JJ. I don’t need you to babysit me anymore.”

“Listen, if this is about what I said-“

“You’re free, JJ,” my voice trembled with pain,” You don’t need to waste any more of your time on me.”

I grabbed a red solo cup, sniffing the contents, and just as I was about to chug it back, his hand slaps it out of my own.

“Will you stop fucking drinking that-“ JJ’s baby blues narrowed as he growled at me.

“What are you, my dad? You’re taking this baby sitting gig a little too seriously.”

It was, then I noticed how many eyes were on us. The music was still blasting, but no one was dancing.

My breathing picked up at the sudden attention. I dug my nails into the palm of my hand to distract my body from the ever growing panic that plagued my body.

JJ’s eye clock in on my nervous tic causing his glare to soften. A figure approaching pulled my focus off of him.

Topper strides over with a drink in his hand and a lazy smile. “Hey man-“

“Top, your wearing sandals bro. Step off.”

“I’m just saying man, she doesn’t want to talk to you.”

JJ’s eyes darkened as a threatening smile slowly graced his lips. “Wanna run that by me again?”

“I forgot that you pouges are missing a couple brain cells,” Topper lolled his head to the side and shot me a wink, “Since you’re clearly a bit slow, I’ll spell it out for you. She. Doesn’t. Want. To. Talk. To. You.”

“I dont remember you being this cocky with a gun to your head.” The words were spoken softly but the threat was clear.

A storm brewed in JJ’s eyes as the bright blue was replaced by something much darker.

My heart jumped at his tone and the look in his eyes made me swallow hard. Disgust filled me as heat began to build between my legs forcing me to press my thighs together.

Hands up on surrender, Topper shot me a look before heading back to his friends. JJ’s eyes stayed on him for a beat ensuring that he wouldn’t come back.

When he was satisfied, JJ moved towards me in quick strides making me yelp in surprise.

His ring covered hand grasped my upper arm and tugged me back to his bike. I shrugged out of his hold and crossed my arms across my chest, hoping it’ll keep a safe distance between the two of us.

I couldn’t think clearly when he was close.

“Listen-“

“No thanks.”

“If you would just-“

“Go away.”

“Can you please stop acting-“

“Why don’t you go back to Stacy? I’m sure she’d find this conversation enlightening.” I spat, shoving his reaching hands away.

“I dont want to talk to Sta-“

“Are you sure? You seemed to have a lot to say be-“

“Jesus Christ, would you just shut up?” JJ shouted with his hands in his hair.

My mouth opened and closed in shock.

“You’re the most frustrating person on this fucking island.” He growled, shaking his head in false amusement.

“Then why are you still talking to me?”

“Because it’s you.”

Throwing my hands up in defeat, I let out a bleak laugh. “What does that even mean? Stop pretending you care. Stop pretending to be my-“

“I wasn’t pretending.” He shook his head, the blue orbs pleading for me to understand,”Stacey was just saying shit to get a reaction-“

“She wasn’t wrong.”

He stopped talking and stared at me, almost confused.

My body trembled slightly with nerves as I prepared to finally expose every bit of my heart to the blue eyed boy in front of me.

“What she said—about how I feel about you. She was right. Anybody with two fucking eyes can see how I feel about you, except for you.”

I furiously wiped my eyes stop the tears from falling. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

“But now I know you only see me as John B’s little sister. It’s just humiliating that you chose to say that to Stacey instead of me.”

I was going to throw up. My stomach churned and swayed but I swallowed down the urge.

JJ let out a harsh sound, “I feel fucking guilty, okay? I feel guilty that I don’t see you the way I should. John B was my best friend and now I’m falling for his sister? It’s eating at me.”

“Then leave-“

“Shut up,” He snapped. “You’ve already got to say what you wanted. It’s my turn.”

My throat tightened as I braced myself for his confession.

“I look at you and I have to stop myself from kissing you even though it’s all I can think about.”

His eye contact seared into my very soul. I could feel it pierce my pounding heart.

“So you aren’t the only one that feels something.”

My heart was in my throat as I processed his words.

“But you said-“

“I lied.” He cut me off with a shrug and advanced towards me, clearly fed up with the distance I placed between us.

In a last ditched effort, I put up my hands to stop him in his tracks. I needed to think. I needed to breathe.

“Don’t touch me.” The plea itself was weak at best.

At the sound of my sob, JJ ignores my demand, and shoves my hands away, despite my weak attempt to keep him out of my space.

Instantly, his fingers curl themselves along my wrist and take note of my pulse. He let out a distressed sound from what I can only assume is the pounding of my pulse and whispers soothing words.

Taking in gulps of air, he slowly counts me down to a manageable pace of breathing. My shaking slowly begins to subside and my very focus is just on him.

Resting his forehead on mine, JJ whispers pleadingly, “Please stop crying.”

Another kiss lands on my nose. “I’m sorry.”

His request along with his sweet pleadings, causes my defenses to crumble down. Another sob tears from my chest as I relax into his embrace.

“I didn’t mean it.” He muttered, brushing my tears away with his thumb.

“Then why did you say it?” My words were soft, barely a whisper.

“Because she’s not important enough to know how I feel.”

Our eyes were glued to each other, a deep unknown longing singeing us together.

“You said I was just some girl.”

JJ tilted my head up, his fingers trailing softly along my bottom lip, “I meant my girl.”

“I have a lot of baggage,” I gave him one more shot at leaving.

“Good thing I have a truck.”

“But she-“

He shook his head, leaning down so there’s just a sliver of space between our lips, so close that we were inhaling each others breaths.

“You’re the only one I want.”

JJ bent down, his arms circling themselves directly below my ass, and picked me up causing me to shout out in surprise.

My hands curled onto each of his arms, my stomach fluttering at the flex of his muscles. He set me on the seat of the bike, his large calloused hands gripped my upper thighs tightly sending a wave of heat right to my core.

JJ’s half lidded eyes dart between my gaze and my lips. “Tell me to stop.”

The words never crossed my lips.

He let out a sound of satisfaction, tugging my legs open to stand in between them.

His ring covered fingers danced along the strands of my hair before nesting themselves at the root, gripping the nape tightly, "You’re mine.”

Heat instantly swarmed my belly as I drastically tried to collect my thoughts. My lips trembled as he hovered over me, his figure towering over my small frame.

JJ swiped his tongue along my parted lips before biting gently. Instantly, my body jolted forward and we were chest to chest, perfectly aligned.

My grip on his biceps tightened as I tremble with anticipation.

Finally, he pressed his lips to mine, slowly guiding our kiss. Gripping my hair tighter, he tilts my head sliding his tongue inside.

A small whimper escaped my lips causing a groan to erupt from him. Almost lazily, he pulled back slightly and pulled my bottom lip into his, sucking softly.

White hot lust seared itself into my blood. I let out a whine and pushed myself up, pressing my lips to his, desperate for another taste of JJ.

My blood was pounding in my ears as I tugged him closer. Almost lazily, I teased his mouth open and slid my tongue inside. Humming with desire, I gently sucked on his tongue causing him to flex his grip on my thighs.

JJ pulled back giving me the opportunity to catch my breath. His fingertips left a heated trail along my face as he caressed every inch.

He shook his head, laughing to himself softly,” It’s you. It’s always been you.”

______________

I love sassy JJ. Sorry for the delayed upload, I got into a car accident and am just now starting to get better:)

Please let me know what you think!! Next piece will be yummy smut with Rafe

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sweetbans29 · 4 months

Text

Teach Me: The Art of Kissing (ii) - PB

Pairing: Paige Buecker x Reader

Previous Part - Next Part

Summary: You and Paige have been best friends for the last 6 years. You trust her completely. And it is because of that trust that you ask her a rather forward question. AKA - You ask Paige to teach you.

Warnings: best friend vulnerability, smitten Paige, kissing (obviously), suggestive, masturbation (not explicit - but there)

Word Count: 5.4k

Teach Me Masterlist & Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: Here we go.

It was junior year of high school when Paige first noticed her feelings for you were shifting. She realized she was feeling more when the two of you decided to take a spontaneous trip in the middle of the night.

You and Paige were lying in your bed, scrolling through IG when a reel appeared on her screen highlighting a 24-hour diner that looked like it served the best breakfast food.

"Yo, look at this," she says as her arm comes over to you showing you the spot. "This looks so freaking good."

You grab her wrist, stabilizing the hand so you can watch what she is trying to show you. Your mouth instantly waters once they start showing some of their menu highlights.

"My mouth is watering." You say and release her arm.

Paige takes a second and you hear her groan.

"What?" You ask.

"It is Rochester," Paige says in a disappointed tone.

"Let's go." Is all you say to get Paige to shoot up from where she is laying.

"Wait, are you for real right now?" She asks, trying not to get her hopes up.

"Let's go get it," you say, sitting up yourself.

Paige jumps on you, tackling you back into the bed, and shakes you out of pure excitement.

"B!" You yell taken back by her excitement. You can't help but laugh as she finally lets you go and jumps out of your bed.

You grab a hoodie from your closet and look over to Paige - you toss it over to her knowing she is going to get cold. I mean it is 11pm. You grab another hoodie for yourself and the two of you take off on your mini road trip to get some bomb diner food.

You put directions into your phone and begin the 2-hour drive. The drive is filled with carpool karaoke and laughs. When the two of you arrive at the diner you order what feels like half the menu. The two of you sit there grubbing on the food.

"This is so much better than the video," Paige mumbles as she takes another bite. You nod in agreement, savoring the pancakes that you just put in your mouth.

When you are both stuffed to the brim, you check out and begin the journey back. It is on the drive that Paige puts on softer music. You thought she would fall asleep on the drive back but she seems wide awake. You are about a half hour from home and you take a little detour.

"Where are we going ma?" Paige asks.

"Ma?" You asked with raised eyebrows, this was a new one. She just shrugs with a little smile. You shake it. "You'll see B."

You make your way away from the town, away from the street lights to a little park. You kill your lights just as you park your car and Paige looks around.

"You didn't bring me out here to kill me did you?" She asks. "Because if you did, I am too full to try and run away from you right now." She says with a little laugh.

"That was my plan," you say now laughing with your best friend. "Fill you up with food so you can't run. No dummy. You don't recognize where we are?"

Paige looks around, taking longer than you thought it would for her to figure out where you are.

"Bonding day freshman year..." you say trying to re-jog her memory.

You see it click in her brain as her eyes get wide.

"I am still so sorry for that day," she says with a laugh.

This is the park where your dad brought all of his teams for a team bonding day at the beginning of the season. It just so happened that Paige her freshman year almost sent you to the emergency room. You turned out to be okay but it didn't help with your freshman year feud.

"You're just lucky I am okay," you joke with her as you get out of the car.

"Where are you going?" She asks but doesn't follow yet. You open your trunk and grab blankets from the back.

"Come on B," you encourage her as you begin walking into a pitch-black field.

"Wait for me!" She calls to you and you slow down for her.

You find your spot and begin laying down the blankets. You see her shivering and throw one of the blankets you have at her. You lay down and pat the spot next to you. She lays down next to you and you help put the blanket over her and cover yourself as well.

Once you lay back down, you let out a sigh - everything releasing from your body.

The two of you lay there looking up at the stars.

You scoot closer to Paige to draw some of her body heat. She brings her arm out for you to hold onto. Being physically close was nothing new to the two of you.

"This is one of my favorite places." You say, eyes filled with the wonder of the stars. "Whenever I feel overwhelmed or stressed I come here and just look up."

Paige lies there listening, wondering why this is only the first time you are bringing her here. She doesn't speak, waiting to see if you will let her learn more about you. Her heart swells when you do.

"I grew up coming to this park - it is where my mom and dad taught me how to play ball. I would spend hours here watching different people play on the courts over there and just absorb everything my dad would tell me about them." You say. You bring your head to her shoulder, trying to get more comfortable. "From then on, my mom would occasionally bring me here at night to see the stars whenever my dad was out of town for work. We would spend hours here pointing out shapes and just being present with one another. Those are some of my favorite childhood memories."

Paige hums.

"Give me your other hand," you say bringing the arm that isn't entangled with hers out from under the blanket. She does the same and offers it to you.

"Hold it up like this," you lift your arm, palm facing the stars. She reciprocates your movement.

"Whenever I feel like I am failing or like I have the weight of the world on my shoulders I do this." You say looking at your hand. You are so locked into your hand at the stars above that you don't see Paige looking right at you, ignoring the hand she has placed in the air because you told her to.

"It puts everything into perspective. It shows me how big the world is and how small I am. It keeps me grounded in knowing that there is so much more out there than what I am facing." Your fingers wiggle a little and a small smile finds its way to your lips.

"You do that for me," Paige says before she can stop herself.

You turn your head to look at her and realize she is looking right at you. You smile at her and give her arm a squeeze.

"Well, I am honored," you say. "I'm glad you are my best friend."

She feels her heart swell and then crack. It was then that she realized she doesn't know if she will ever truly be content being just your best friend. But doesn't want to say anything to ruin this moment. To ruin your moment.

It is later on in your friendship that Paige realizes you mean too much to her to say anything about the feelings stirring inside of her. So Paige threw herself into meaningless relationships or flings with girls that all had some sort of resemblance to you.

You release Paige from the hug. Part of you is surprised that she actually agreed to this but are super grateful that she said yes not knowing what you would have done if she were to say no.

"So when do you want to start?" She asks slightly scratching the back of her neck. You never made her nervous before but now she is standing before you, her heart rate picking up, and trying to keep her cool.

"Well considering the date is on Friday, maybe tomorrow?" You say. "You get out of practice at 8pm ya?”

Paige looks confused. “Won’t you be there?” She asks.

“No, Coach said he didn’t need me at this one,” you say.

The next 24 hours feel like a week to Paige as she anticipates what the first 'lesson' will be like with you. It is finally right before practice that she snaps out of her nervousness and is reminded that she has hooked up countless times and that you will be no different.

Paige gets through practice, not thinking of you once. It was one of the best practices the team has had and all the girls are on a high.

You are sitting on the couch doing homework when Paige gets back,. She walks in the door and you look up.

"Hey B," you say wrapping up your assignment. "How was practice?''

"Practice was solid - one of the best we've had so far," Paige says plopping down on the couch. She watches you as you finish up your assignment, occasionally pushing your laptop in a playful manner.

Paige loved bugging you while you were working. She would do anything to get a little reaction out of you in your focused state. And your reactions were some of her favorite things in the world. Now was no different.

"I am almost done, just let me finish this and then I am all yours," you say typing away to get it done.

Paige's cheeks heat up as she sinks back into the couch, opting to scroll on her phone while you finish.

Once you're done, you close your computer and let out a big sigh, leaning back into the couch with your eyes closed.

"That assignment was the definition of dumb, there was no point. It was just busy work for points." You say eyes still closed, now rubbing your temples.

"I'm sorry ma, if you're tired we can put on a movie," Paige says. It was a common thing for your tired nights to be filled with movies and you fall asleep within the first few minutes of it. Paige never minded, as she would typically be right behind you with sleep, then waking up with credits rolling and having to wake you up to move to your bed.

"No, no," you say sitting up. "We have a lesson, remember?"

Paige lets out a little laugh, "Oh I remember. How could one forget when their best friend/roommate asks them to show them how to kiss." She says teasing you a little.

"I mean I could always go ask Azzi, I am sure she would help me if you don't want to," You say knowing Azzi would never but wanted to poke at Paige.

"Oh hell no, she wouldn't be able to teach you like I could." She says in a cocky manner.

You let out a laugh. "Oh I know, Little Miss Campus Player." You say and Paige's demeanor changes.

"Hey, you know I don't like that," she says and you immediately feel bad. Leaning over to her, you grab her arms, unfolding them from her defensive position.

"I am messing with you, you know nobody thinks that." She begins to loosen up again. "But you do put yourself out there and girls love you which is why you are the one who is going to teach me." You say now sitting up, excited to begin your first lesson.

Paige sits up as well.

"Okay, what do I do?" You say looking at Paige and she just gives a little laugh.

"I think we should talk about some ground rules first," Paige says and you give her a questioning look. She continues. "I only have two. First, I need you to talk to me whenever we do anything. You need to communicate what feels good and what doesn't. You got to let me know what you are thinking okay?"

You nod and she gives you a look.

"Yes, okay. Got it." You say already breaking Paige's first rule.

"Second, if at any time you feel uncomfortable or any of it is too much, we stop. Okay?" She says.

"Okay," you say understanding the seriousness in Paige's voice.

"We are going to start slow," Paige says, and you kind of slump a little. "Today we are going to ease you in with how to kiss."

For some reason, you blush but give an attentive nod to your best friend. She stands and you follow wanting to question but deciding not to.

Paige speaks as if she knows what you are thinking, "It's less of an awkward position to start if we stand."

You are now standing there like an awkward child, arms by your side.

"Can I?" Paige motions to your hair and you nod. Her hands come up to take your hair out of your braid. Hers is already down, and dry from the shower she took after her practice. You get a whiff of her shampoo and take a deep inhale.

"Did you take my shampoo?" You ask getting distracted.

"Maybe." She says with a smile. "I ran out yesterday and took your bottle this morning." You scoff and take a step back. She gives you a look of 'now is not the time' and you step back to her.

"Okay, okay - sorry. I am just a little nervous." You say wiping your hands on your pants.

"There is no need to be nervous, I got you," she says and takes one of your hands.

You look up at your best friend and her eyes meet yours. You lick your lips and her eyes fall to them.

The number of times Paige has had to swallow the thought of kissing you has been too many times to count. She has to keep her cool now that it is finally happening. It still baffles her how you haven't been in a relationship or even been kissed for that matter throughout all these years. There have been countless parties where you have wandered away with someone for some time and Paige has just assumed things were happening. Paige would never stick around to really find out, taking a girl home of her own to get you out of her head. The morning after, the two of you would never really talk about what had happened and just go about your day.

Paige leans in and your eyes still don't leave hers. Your breath picks up as you feel Paige lift the hand she had been holding to place it on her waist. Her hand comes up to cradle your cheek.

"Are you sure about this?" She asks.

"Yes."

"I am going to kiss you now. Nothing major, just a simple kiss." She says and you nod. She doesn't move a muscle waiting for your verbal confirmation.

"Okay." You say and close your eyes, waiting for her lips to meet yours.

Paige leans down and her lips meet yours.

It's as if time stops. Neither of you move. You are taking in the feeling of somebody else's lips on yours and Paige is taking in you.

It was just a simple kiss but you wanted more.

Paige is the first one to pull away, already missing the feeling of your lips on hers.

Her eyes are still closed as you open yours.

"How was that?" Paige asks, monitoring her breath.

"That was nice," you say. "I wanted more." You admit and Paige's eyes shoot open. "Teach me more," you say starting a fire in Paige.

Paige's hands fall from your face and find your hips. Your hands are on her hips, accidentally giving them a little squeeze.

“Okay babe - just follow my lead,” Paige says as she reminds herself that she needs to go slow. You nod at her.

“I need to hear you,” she says already leaning in. Her eyes burning into yours.

“Kiss me B,” you say as your eyes flutter closed.

Paige takes one good look at you before bring her lips to yours for a second time. This time with a little more force. Her hands slowly finding the skin under your shirt, squeezing your hips.

You let out a little gasp and she uses it as an invitation. Her tongue collides with yours, savoring the newfound taste of you. You let her take the lead as her tongue explores your mouth.

Your hands come up around her neck, pulling her closer to you. Her body is already against yours but you want her closer.

Paige is overwhelmed by you. As much as she has imagined this, she never imagined it would be this good. You are sweeter than she imagined and your touch is electrifying. She’s enamored by you.

Her tongue continues to massage yours until both of you are out of air. Reluctantly you pull back, completely out of breath.

“That was hot,” Paige says and you blush. "Not bad for your first kiss."

"Well I have a good teacher," you say and it is Paige's turn to blush.

"Can we do it again?" You ask and Paige nearly falls to her knees. She would do whatever you asked but can't show the effect you have on her.

"Of course, ma," She says and brings her hand to your face again. "Do you want to try to take the lead this time?"

You shake your head no, "Not yet." She nods and leans back into you.

Her lips meet yours again and you notice it is a little different this time. Paige isn't going as slow as before and there is a fire behind her movements. Your hands come up to wrap around her neck and her hands slide down your backside. They squeeze the backside of your thighs and you take the hint - jumping to wrap our legs around her waist.

You let out another moan. Paige doing everything in her power to keep this just in the realm of kissing.

Paige sits down on the couch, hands coming back to your waist. Your legs straddle her hips, the kiss not breaking once.

Pressure builds in your center as Paige's tongue works yours so perfectly.

You begin to rock your hips - wanting to relieve any of the pressure in your core. It is now Paige's turn to moan as she feels your hips lightly grind into her.

Her hands stop your actions and you let out the lowest whine.

She continues the kiss, too caught up in it realizing when her hands begin to ease on your hips. allowing you to begin moving them again. Your hands come up to Paige's hair - running your fingers through the hair at the base of her head, giving it a light pull.

Paige's next move is unexpected. She lifts you up and throws you on the couch next to her as she immediately stands up. You look at her confused but she just grabs her keys and walks out of the apartment.

You are left on the couch - turned on and confused.

Paige didn't mean to bolt the way she did but she knew if she had stayed she wouldn't be able to stop herself.

She gets in her car and begins to drive. Once she’s on the road, she figures is a safe distance away from you she stops. She puts the car in park and sits there for a second before hitting her hands on her steering wheel.

How could she think this was going to work? Just casually being intimate with the only girl she has ever truly loved and be okay. The way Paige wanted to lay you on that couch and cover every inch of your body with her lips has her head spinning. You had her head spinning when she was so used to it being the other way around with girls. Her eyes close and her hand comes up to her face - her mind beginning to replay the events that happened not an hour before.

Your lips meeting hers for the first time. Your tongue moving so seamlessly with hers, allowing her full control of you. You straddling her on the couch with her hands on your hips. The way your hips moved on hers.

Paige's other hand begins to make its way down to her core as she remembers the sounds you made. The sounds you were making just for her. She begins relieving the tension she has been holding. She reaches her climax in no time, panting and cursing your name as she does.

When she was finally in a place to collect her thoughts, Paige thought about the whole situation again. She thought about whether it would be a good idea to continue with what you asked from her or if she should call it.

If she continued - she would have to figure out how to control herself when you would take the lead. Paige was so used to taking the lead. She knows that when it is your turn she is going to have to display more control of herself than she did today.

If she called it though - she would need to explain why she wouldn't do it anymore, why she couldn't. And sitting here facing the fact that there is a possibility of her having to admit her feelings for you, possibly ruin your friendship and lose you forever diminished the thought almost immediately.

After thinking it through - there was no choice, she had to keep going.

Not checking the time - she picked up her phone and called Azzi.

"P?" Azzi's sleepy voice rings in Paige's ear. "What time is it?"

Paige looks at the clock in her car and curses.

"Sorry Azzi, it's 2..." Paige says regretting bugging her friend. "I just -I..." Paige doesn't know what to say.

Azzi lets out a sigh having a gist of what Paige is going through as the blonde called her late last night explaining what you had asked of her. Azzi was the only person on the planet who knew Paige's feelings for you, she had an inkling when all the girls Paige would hook up with all somehow resembled you. You were oblivious of course.

It was when Azzi confronted Paige about it for the 50th time that the girl admitted she was completely and utterly in love with you but couldn't do anything about it. So whenever Paige would get overwhelmed by you, she would always call Azzi to help pull her back to reality.

"How did it go?" Azzi asks, knowing the sleep she had just awoken from is not long gone.

Paige sat there and talked for what felt like forever - talking about how she had never felt such a connection with anyone before and how easily you had her bending to your will. She talked about how scared she was and didn't know how she was going to keep her cool as the lessons became more and more intimate.

Azzi sat there listening to one of her closest friends, feeling the conflict and knowing Paige was bending herself backward over all of this.

"P, you need to tell the girl how you feel or you are going to combust," Azzi says with a sigh.

"You know I can't," Paige says frustrated.

"Well, how did you leave? Was she normal after your 'first lesson'?" Azzi asks.

"Well...I kind of just ran out," Paige mumbles recalling how she left you on the couch.

"You WHAT?" Azzi yells as she curses herself for being so loud.

"Her hips began to rock against mine and I couldn't take it so I bolted before I could do something I regretted..." Paige instantly fills with regret as the words fall from her lips. Her fleeting moment coming back to her. She threw you off of her and left without as much as a second glance.

"Paige...you need to go fix this," Azzi says and she says her goodbye.

Paige looks at the time, her clock reading 4:12am.

She makes her way back to your shared apartment, not sure what she is going to find when she walks through the door. What she found, broke her heart.

You were sleeping on the couch, in the same clothes as she previously left you in, curled up with your phone in your hand.

Paige looked down at her own phone not thinking about the possibility of you trying to reach her until now. She unlocks it and sees about 30 notifications from you, the last one coming not 30 minutes ago.

She comes up and squats next to you, brushing the hair from your face. Her touch jolts you awake. Your eyes find hers. Yours are filled with sleep as your body relaxes. You sit up slightly.

"Where have you been? I was so worried. Is everything okay? You ran out of here so fast." You say grabbing her arm, trying to find answers in her own tired eyes.

"Let's just go to bed, baby," she says as she helps you up from the couch and leads you to her room. You don't fight her as you slept in hers every other night. You crawl into bed and curl up next to her, sleep already plaguing you once again.

"Don't leave me like that again, B," you say as you drift off to sleep.

She kisses your head and mumbles something along the lines of 'I won't' before sleep takes over her body as she finally feels at peace.

You awake the next morning entangled in your best friend. At some point during your slumber, your places switched. She ended up wrapped around your torso, holding you tightly in place. You look down at her and admire her. She looks like a little kid.

Your hand makes its way through her hair and you feel the vibrations of her groan all throughout your body.

"Just 5 more minutes," she grumbles as she squeezes you tighter.

"Anything for you B," you say and continue to run your fingers through her hair.

Shortly after, the two of you get up and get ready for the day. Neither of you says much which causes a weird tension.

You walk out of your room and into the kitchen where Paige putting together some food.

"I'm sorry," you say to your best friend.

Paige's hands come to a stop and her shoulders fall. If anything she was the one who should be apologizing to you.

"If anyone should be apologizing it is me," she says still not looking up at you.

You timidly make your way to her, stopping a few feet away but now on the same side of the kitchen island.

"If I did something wrong or that made you uncomfortable, I am so so sorry. The last thing I want to do is affect our friendship B. If this is too weird we stop." You say not really knowing what could have caused her to run out like she did other than you doing something wrong.

You are giving Paige an out. The one thing she wanted almost as much as she wanted you.

It takes Paige a moment to gather her thoughts before speaking.

"No, no. I don't want an out. I am good. I just forgot that Azzi asked me to do something really important last night and I forgot." She says as she really hopes you don't see through her lies.

You don't push it, giving her a nod.

"I need to hear you, babe," she teases you, instantly lightening the mood.

A smile makes its way to your face.

"Got it B." You say as she goes back to finishing putting together her food.

You speak again, "I am ready to take the lead."

Paige nearly drops the knife she was holding and looks over at you. Her eyebrows raise and you see the Paige you know and love come back.

"Are you now?" She says, putting down the knife and making her way to you. "What's changed ma?"

"Well after you left, I had a lot of time to think about what we did." You say. "And I may or may not have looked up some 'How To' videos," you are blushing now.

Paige lets out a laugh of disbelief.

"You watched videos?" She says.

"Ya, well you left me and I took matters into my own hands," you say.

Paige's heart falls a little but refuses to make that known.

"Ok ma, go ahead. Take the lead." She says as she crosses her arms.

You slowly make your way to her. Paige's heartbeat picks up as she anticipates the feeling of your lips on hers again. Your hands come up to unfold her arms.

She lets you as they find their way to your waist. Your hands plant themselves on her upper chest as you begin to lean in.

"Make sure you communicate what feels good," you say teasing at the rules that Paige initially set between the two of you.

A smile makes its way to Paige's lips and you take the opportunity to bring your lips to hers.

You start off slow, trying to gain confidence.

Once you feel a little squeeze to your hips - something you are finding as Paige's way of signaling you are doing a good job, you ever so lightly swipe your tongue along her bottom lip.

She opens up immediately for you, allowing your tongue to explore hers. She lets you lead, just like you wanted. You feel Paige hum into the kiss, fueling you.

You push on her chest, causing her to get caught in between you and the counter. Paige gasps at the bold movement. You ease up on the kiss, pulling away slightly.

As you do, Paige follows you wanting more causing you to smile.

"How am I doing?" You say out of breath. Your face stays right in front of hers.

Paige's mind is spinning as she tries to form words. You decide she is taking too long and take her bottom lip and give it a little suck, followed by a little kiss to it.

Paige snaps as she goes absolutely feral by your movements.

In one swoop - Paige flips the two of you around, so you are now trapped between her and the counter. Her hands pressing you into the counter as she takes the lead. The shock comes with a gasp in which she takes the lead.

Her lips are working hard against yours, tongues fighting for dominance which only fuels her more. She is feeding off the fact that you are finding your confidence with her.

She lifts you up so you are sitting on the counter and your hands make their way to her hair, tangling it and pulling her closer to you.

The two of you spend the next few minutes savoring each other. Only pulling away when you hear Paige's phone ring.

Both of you are panting.

Paige walks over to her phone and answers it, having a brief conversation with whoever is on the other end. She hangs up and walks back over to you, you are still sitting on the counter.

She makes her way back in between your legs and you smile at her.

"I don't know what kind of videos you have been watching but you are more than capable with those lips lil lady," she says as her eyes fall to your lips.

You bite your lip and Paige knows she needs to step back before she caves. Before she does, she brings her thumb up to remove your bottom lip from being bit.

You watch as she steps back, still facing you. Only turning to go into her room and close the door.

Still sitting there, you watch her retreat into her room. You feel your heart squeeze as you try to swallow the rising feelings that are blossoming for your best friend. You have only one thought as you remove yourself from the counter and eat whatever Paige was making before your makeout session.

Well, shit.

AN: This wasn't supposed to be this long. Sorry. Let me know what you think about this and the series in general. And as always, thank you for your love and support 💙

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers imagine #paige bueckers masterlist #uconn huskies #teach me series #paige bueckers fic

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