#I wouldn’t even know what to do/what we should do about it if IS flirting and it’s like. do I want him to be flirting?

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

PR disaster

Hey guyss, I hope you enjoy this one-shot. Franco is one of my favourite drivers so it was time that I wrote something for him :)

From the moment Y/N was hired as Williams' new PR manager, she knew the job wouldn’t be easy, especially with Logan's departure. Managing a driver's exit was never simple, and controlling the public narrative seemed like her biggest concern. However, she quickly realized that her true challenge came in the form of Franco, the young talent who had taken Logan’s place in the team.

Franco wasn’t just an exceptional driver; he was a whirlwind of energy and charisma. For the fans and the press, he was a breath of fresh air, full of charm and wit. But for Y/N, he was a constant source of headaches. Whether he was flirting with journalists, posting cheeky comments on social media, or creating unnecessary drama, it always ended with her cleaning up the mess.

"Y/N, did you see his latest post?" One of her assistants burst into her office, waving a tablet in the air. Another post. Another reckless comment from Franco.

Y/N groaned. Of course, he couldn’t help himself. She had spent the last week trying to reign him in, explaining time and time again that his social media presence needed to be professional, not a flirt-fest with every reporter and fan that interacted with him.

"This needs to stop," she muttered to herself, standing up from her desk. She stormed through the paddock, her frustration building with every step.

When she found Franco lounging near the team garage, chatting up a group of reporters—no surprise there—she called his name sharply.

"Franco. A word." Her tone left no room for argument.

He flashed his signature grin, excusing himself from the conversation and strolling over to her. "Hey, jefa," he said casually, as if nothing was wrong. "What’s up?"

(Hey, boss)

“What’s up?” she repeated, her voice laced with exasperation. “You’re what’s up. I just had to deal with your latest ‘incident’ on social media—again.”

Franco shrugged, leaning against the wall with an easy confidence that only made her more irritated. "Ah, it was just a little fun. People like it when I’m myself."

Y/N crossed her arms. “Flirting with journalists isn’t being yourself, it’s being reckless. You need to tone it down. This is a professional environment, not… whatever you think it is.”

He raised an eyebrow, his playful demeanour never faltering. "¿Estás diciendo que no te gusta que sea encantador? No puedo evitarlo si soy irresistible." (¿Are you saying that you don't like that I'm charming? I can't help it if I'm irresistible.)

Y/N frowned, her Spanish rusty but enough to pick up on something. "What?"

Franco grinned wider, sensing an opportunity. "Nada, nada," he said, though his eyes sparkled with mischief. "You know, maybe you should try smiling more. You’re always so… serious." He tilted his head, looking her up and down in a way that made her feel like he was studying her every reaction. "Me gusta más cuando te ríes… tienes una sonrisa preciosa, ¿sabes?" (Nothing, nothing) (I like it better when you laugh … you have a beautiful smile ¿you know?)

Her brow furrowed. Okay, that part she definitely understood, and it only made her more determined to get her point across. “This isn’t about me, Franco. This is about you being impossible to manage.”

He leaned closer, his tone dropping just slightly, enough to make her feel the warmth of his presence. "¿Imposible? No, jefa. Imposible sería si intentaras resistirte a mis encantos. Aunque… lo estás haciendo muy bien." (¿Impossible? No, boss. Impossible would be if you tried to resist my charm. Even… if you are doing it well)

She blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone. “What did you just say?”

Franco simply smiled, his eyes dancing with amusement. “You know, if you want me to be more ‘professional,’ we could… work out an agreement.”

“An agreement?” she asked, wary of where this was going.

He nodded, stepping just a little too close for comfort. “Sí. I’ll behave. No more trouble. But… on one condition.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “And what’s that?”

Franco’s grin turned almost predatory, though still playful. “You go on a date with me.”

Her jaw dropped. "A date?"

"Sí, una cita. You know, dinner, maybe some wine… you can lecture me all you want. But I think you’ll find I’m much better behaved when you get to know me… fuera del trabajo." (Yes, a date) (… out of work)

Y/N could feel her face heating up, partly from the absurdity of the situation and partly because Franco’s intense gaze was starting to get to her. “You’re joking.”

Franco tilted his head, eyes sparkling. “¿Parezco que estoy bromeando, jefa?” (¿Does it look like I'm joking, boss?)

Y/N stared at him, her mind racing. There was no way he could be serious. This was just another one of his games, another flirtatious comment that she needed to brush off. But as Franco stood there, grinning like the cat that got the cream, she realized he wasn’t backing down. His eyes were locked on hers, waiting, full of that infuriating confidence.

“Absolutely not,” she snapped, turning on her heel to walk away. But as she took a step, Franco called after her.

"Well, I guess I’ll just keep doing what I’m doing then… Maybe tweet a little something extra for the fans later."

She froze, clenching her fists at her sides. This man was impossible. She could already picture the chaos his next social media stunt would cause. The endless calls, the damage control, the headaches…

Y/N spun back around to face him. “Fine,” she blurted out, her voice filled with frustration. “You want a date? You’ll get your stupid date. But only if you promise—promise—to behave.”

Franco’s grin widened, looking almost triumphant. "¡Perfecto! I knew you couldn’t resist." (¡Perfect!)

She narrowed her eyes at him, crossing her arms. “This isn’t about ‘resisting,’ it’s about making sure you don’t ruin the team’s reputation. One dinner, and you tone it all down.”

Franco nodded, still smiling like she’d just handed him the world on a silver platter. "You won’t regret it, jefa. I’ll be a perfect gentleman." (boss)

Y/N scoffed, turning away once more. “Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

As she began walking back to her office, she could hear Franco’s voice calling after her, his tone teasing and undeniably smug. "No te preocupes, jefa. I’ll be on my best behaviour… unless you want me to misbehave a little." (Don't worry boss.)

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the small, almost begrudging smile that tugged at the corners of her lips. Franco was trouble, and she knew it. But for some reason, as infuriating as he was, she couldn’t help but feel a spark of something… interesting.

Grumpy or not, she’d agreed to the date. And she had a feeling this was only the beginning of whatever madness Franco had in store for her.

[grasslandgirl]

the thing abt growing up chubby and awkward and a know it all and busy and never dating especially in high school is that like. now I’m 23 and I’ve never dated and I’ve never been kissed. and I have no idea how to do any of those things or what flirting or anything looks or feels like now as an adult bc I wasn’t the subject of those interests/affections alongside my peers as teenagers and now I feel utterly clueless and helpless and like. blah blah blah I know that people that really care about me won’t care abt my lack of experience with romantic or physical relationships blah blah blah but at the same time. how do you even get to the level of someone caring abt you to the point where my inexperience isn’t weird or cringy without. dating? how does any of it work?? I feel like I’m still fifteen and oblivious and clueless and helpless in so many ways except now all my peers are full adults and there’s this huge gap of unknowns and experiences and knowledge I don’t have/haven’t had between us that’s becoming more insurmountable every year. aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. yk?

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[luvsupa]

ceo!gojo hires you as his new secretary, thrilled by the impression you made during your interview.

ceo!gojo who abandons his important paperwork and flirts with you every day when you’re trying to do your job.

“let’s go get lunch. i’m bored,” gojo purrs, leaning over your desk as you’re on the phone, planning his business meeting.

“sir, i’m kinda doing my job right now…” you politely decline his offer. he pouts, but you shift your attention back to the call. he doesn’t move, growing irritated, and leans over to end the call, cutting you off mid conversation.

“sir! that was a very important—” you stop yourself as you see him laughing and walking back to his office.

ceo!gojo who wakes you up every morning at 3 am to talk to you while at the club, not caring that you have work in a few hours.

“hello…?” you say groggily, abruptly woken from your sleep.

“you would not believe who i just saw,” gojo says. you huff in annoyance, thinking this time it was some kind of emergency. “sir, it’s three in the morning…” you trail off, looking at your alarm clock on your nightstand.

“can you stop calling me ‘sir’? anyways, i saw my ex at the club,” he exclaims. you rest your phone beside your pillow and slowly drift back to sleep as he continues to ramble on.

ceo!gojo who informs you about his impulsive purchases, this one being a ten million dollar yacht.

“suguru dared me to buy it. it’s really beautiful—you should join me when i have a party.” he whispers excitedly. you try to ignore him as you focus on his meeting.

“mr. gojo, could you please pay attention? we really need your input on this,” one of the angry businessmen says. gojo rolls his eyes in annoyance.

“my gorgeous secretary will answer for me,” he says, and you hide your smile at his words.

ceo!gojo who almost throws a tantrum when you tell him you’re quitting from lack of sleep (because of him), sleeping on the job, and messing up paperwork.

“okay, i won’t call you after work hours,” he whines, unable to believe you’re leaving him to find another job. you giggle at his words, knowing damn well he wouldn’t stop.

“i’m sorry, sir. it’s for the best. you’ll find someone better,” you reassure him as he groans loudly.

“but i don’t want anybody but you—what do you want? a new car? a house? i’ll triple your salary!” he offers many things to keep you, but despite his special adjustments to your salary, you cannot keep working for him.

ceo!gojo who contacts every single company you apply to. hell, he even pays them to reject your application.

ceo!gojo who grins widely as he sees you walking into his office a few weeks later, your anger evident as you approach his desk.

“my favorite ex-secretary! what brings you back here?” he says, cheering inside because all the jobs you applied to rejected you.

“satoru, i know you called the companies i applied to,” you say, getting straight to the point. he laughs loudly.

“what? how could you blame me?” he says sarcastically, knowing he thinks this is some game.

“do you want your job back? i’ll triple your—”

“yes.”

[kissitbttr]

you slam your purse down on the kitchen counter, heels clicking towards the fridge.

behind you, toji rolls his eyes and throws his head back with a loud sigh. he shrugs off his coat before hanging it on the rack. “here we go” he mutters tiredly,

you throw a glance over your shoulder and shoot a glare at him. “what?”

“nothing” toji strides towards you with hands on his hips. “just think that maybe you should act your fucking age for once, sweetheart”

and it makes you let out the loudest yet sarcastic cackle in the middle of the kitchen, unaware of toji’s clenching jaw as he stares at you.

“funny you should say that because it was definitely me who’s acting like my own age while my fiancée was out whoring himself out with a skinny blonde skank in green dress during the gala”

oh fucking—

“jesus” he sighs, rubbing his face up and down with both palms. staring at how your body turns away from him, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and closing it with your heel. “this is what is all about?!”

“yeah, what else?” you sass, looking at him while twisting the cap off. “got another bitch you’re flirting with i do not know about?”

thread carefully fushiguro he thinks, don’t forget how mean she can be

“baby..” he tries to talk softly with you, calming himself so he wouldn’t lash out. “she was an investor… it is my job to find a high quality investor so i would be able to extend my business overseas.. why would i be flirting with another woman when i got you there with me tonight, hm?”

you raise an eyebrow, hand on hip. “so are you saying you’d flirt with more if I wasn’t coming with you?”

he gapes. “what the fuck— that’s not what i meant! you’re my woman! why should i even look at other girls?!”

“you just did tonight!” an argument leaves your mouth. “right in front of me!”

“i fucking wasn’t!” he raises his voice. “why would you even think that?!”

“you were staring at her far too long” you point out, eye brows scrunching together, a sign that tells him that you’re not wrong,

toji shakes his head, “we were having a conversation!”

“so you had to look at her like that?!”

“where the fuck my eyes should be looking then?!”

your tongue clicks against your teeth, watching how your man becoming frustrated. “my tits”

and there it is. the smart comeback that toji loves and hate at the same time. fucking christ, he sometimes wonders how on earth could he put up with you for so long.

the answer? ask God.

“you’re being a smarty pants right now with me, mami”

“nope” you pop out the word, putting the bottle down on the counter it creates a sound. “dead serious.” you turn on your heel and move to the other side of the room,

“oh we are not finished” in quick seconds, toji is able to pull you by your hips and draw you to him. causing you to let out a gasp. “hey, hey—how long have we been together, hm?”

no answer. instead, you look away. arms crossed over your chest. but toji isn’t having any of that, his one hand moves under your chin to get you to look at him.

“come on—how long?”

“…three years” you mumble

he nods, locking his eyes with you. “exactly… and when you kept rejecting me because you weren’t saying yes each time i ask you out… what did i do?”

you sigh, eyes closing for a moment. “waited a whole six months for me. sent me details about your whereabouts and what you were doing because you wanted me to know that you’re serious about having a relationship with me”

again, toji nods. the grip he has on your hip loosen, palm squeezing the soft flesh over the fabric of the dress. “now… would i even be willing to throw away our three years spent together for a woman that I don’t even know about nor find attractive? do you not trust me, baby?”

the tone of his voice becomes softer, eyes pleading to let you know that he’s here for you. and it’s always going to be you. he sees a future together even far before the two of you hit your first anniversary. you’re it for him.

“i do, ji-ji” a pout forming on your lips, eyes looking down as you hold onto his arms. “never doubted you one second”

“then why did you do what you did, hm?” he pulls you in closer, arms snaking around your waist. “you know that I wouldn’t leave you—never in a million years—the thought of finding another woman has not even crossed my mind, gorgeous…”

your shoulders come up in a weak shrug, “just don’t like it when girls are attracted to you… it’s pissing me off that they know you’re hot”

he laughs at that, pecking your forehead. “while that might be true, you then know how it feels to be me when i see men gawking over my fiancée. it’s crazy.”

toji earns a small smile from you, blushing a bit. “i guess…”

“you know what goes through my mind when i was talking to the woman tonight?” he asks, watching you shake your head. “i kept thinking about wanting to fuck you in this dress.. so bad.. you were such a distraction I couldn’t think straight” he groans,

with a giggle, you ask “really?” hands moving up around his broad neck and shoulders. he nods with a half smirk. “do you still want to?”

he raises both of his eyebrows, before moving his hands down to your thighs and catching you off guard by throwing your body over the shoulder with one arm. toji picks up the cold bottle of water off the counter and easily make his way upstairs with a giggling soon to be wife.

“you’ll find out soon enough, doll”

[seresinhangmanjake]

Respect

Feyd-Rautha x female!reader

Summary: Your betrothed is a son from one of the Great Houses, an awful man who has enjoyed threatening and scaring you since you were children. Feyd makes it known he doesn't appreciate such disrespectful treatment of the woman he loves.

Notes/Warnings: SA (mention of past unwanted touching. Not by Feyd). Violence and blood. Implied or mentioned sexual situations. Feyd is soft for reader and reader only. Typos, im sure. I think that's it. Feel free to correct me.

Words: 1900

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist

You told him stories of the youngest son of House Kenric. As you lay in Feyd’s arms, you recounted your meetings with your betrothed over the years. The ways he teased you as children, pinching your skin, tugging on your hair, spitting in your face, calling you worthless, stupid, pathetic. Then in the years before coming of age, how he would mock you alongside his brothers. How he would smack you if you defended yourself and force you to tell your father you’d fallen. How he would grope you over your dress when neither your parents nor his were paying attention. But you’d kept one story from him; the most recent of them.

Feyd had met you at a party for a handful of influential Great Houses, and it wasn’t long before he found himself rather attached to you. Over the course of six hours, you’d met, talked, flirted, snuck off, kissed, fell into bed, fucked, and returned to the party with no one the wiser. It was that same night you were able to convince your father of a budding interest in Harkonnen ways, and that if the Houses were aiming for peace and unity, there would be no harm in you spending a few months on Giedi Prime.

At the time, Feyd knew the “Harkonnen ways” you so appreciated didn’t extend far past the attachment the two of you shared and his ability to make you see stars when his cock was inside of you, but it eventually developed into more. Much more. Though never said aloud, he loved you. So much so that when you finally informed him of your betrothed’s treatment of you the week preceding the party—his cornering you, touching you, telling you of his intent to control and use you as he pleases once you become his wife—Feyd struggled to swallow his rage. 

“I’m scared, honestly,” you told him, your hand sliding up from his abdomen over his chest to the curve where his neck met his shoulder, gently squeezing the toned muscle. “How do I become the wife of a man like that? And what about producing his heir? I’ll have no choice but to let him have me.”

It made Feyd sick to think of another man so close to you. Another man’s hands on you, his lips marring your body, tongue between your folds, sweat staining your skin. Even screwing his eyes shut couldn’t make those images disappear. They only grew stronger, tormenting him. She’s not yours, a little voice whispered. Not your woman, not the mother of your child, not your wife. 

But, fuck, you should be. You should be all of those things. You would make a perfect Baroness; the only one Feyd could imagine himself wanting. You would face hardship with a sturdy backbone and not shy away from what Giedi Prime would request of you. You would be respected as the ruler by his side, as you deserve. Respected most of all by the man who loves you.

“Would you rather marry me?” Feyd asked, lazily running his fingers up and down your bare spine. He felt a sudden uneasiness, like nerves wiggling throughout his limbs. Such an unfamiliar sensation. Unwelcome, but not misplaced he supposed.

“Yes,” you replied to his relief. “But we both know that’s not how this works, Feyd. It’s just not that simple.”

You were right. It wasn’t simple. Your father made an arrangement with House Kenric, but there was no chance Feyd was going to let that old Duke take you from him in two weeks and ship you off to marry an abusive, unworthy pest of a man. If your father wouldn’t permit simplicity for the sake of your happiness, then Feyd would just have to make it simple. 

—

“Why is it again that I’m not allowed to see?” you ask as Feyd guides you down a dark corridor with his fingers covering your eyes.

“I told you it’s a surprise,” he teases. “Don’t you like my presents?” 

You chuckle. “Of course, I like your presents.”

“Then that’s all you need to know,” he tells you. “We are here, anyway.”

Coming to a stop, Feyd removes his hands from your eyes and places them on your shoulders, kneading out the tension that has only worsened in your body as your wedding day grows nearer. You blink once, twice, still curious as to what sort of present could possibly be this far from your rooms, but when your vision adjusts to the onslaught of bright light illuminating the small cell, you gasp at the sight before you. 

“What do you think?” Feyd asks, pressing a kiss to your neck as you take in the badly beaten body of Aldo Kenric—your future husband.

He’s secured to a chair, his arms strapped down to the chairs arms and legs strapped to legs. His head hangs low. His shirt is torn down the front, exposing the deep purple bruises that litter his torso. Blood drips from his nose and split lips to stain white fabric and forge red rivers through the hills of his abdomen muscles. If not for the pink flush to his skin, you would think him long dead.

The hand that raises to your mouth partially conceals your shock, but the rest of your face gives the emotion away. Your eyelids don’t seem to be able to blink anymore, and your brows will not lower from their position high up on your forehead. You don’t know how to swallow what you see.

With a sigh, Feyd says, “Wait a moment. He’s not very lively.” Then he steps around you toward your betrothed, lifts the man's head by his cropped blond hair, and hits him across the face with a smack that echoes throughout the cell. Scarlet droplets splatter across Feyd’s forearm like flung paint from a brush.

Aldo jolts awake, body convulsing in a sharp jerk. His eyes blow wide as saucers as he snaps his head in all directions and struggles against his binds. The gag in his mouth muffles his whimpers of panic. 

“H-How?” you stutter, glancing at Feyd. “When did you—”

“I had some of my men snatch him last night,” Feyd informs you. ‘While we were busy fucking’, he leaves out. “I was told it was done without difficulty. Didn’t put up a decent fight of any sort.” 

He grabs Aldo’s jaw, fingers pressing into the hollows of his cheeks, and forces his head so he has no choice but to look directly into Feyd’s eyes. “We had a long talk about respecting our women, didn’t we, Kenric?”

Tears stream down the man’s face, cutting through dried blood and dripping onto Feyd’s hand. Aldo tries to yank his head free from the tight grasp to look at you. You think he’s repeating your name behind the stuffing in his mouth, but you can’t be sure.

“What are you going to do with him?” you ask.

“What would you like me to do with him?”

“I can decide?”

He laughs. “Of course. I wouldn’t give you a gift and not let you choose what to do with it.”

You almost flinch in shock. You’re not known for choosing things for yourself. Until you met Feyd, ‘choice’ was a word associated with negativity and obligatory sacrifice. He is the one thing you’ve ever chosen. Your clothes, your hair, your studies, your husband—all selected for you. But Feyd…you met him and fell and didn’t want to get back up. 

Maybe now, you don’t have to.

“You’d kill him?” you ask.

Aldo screams behind his gag, more salty wet lines running down his face. His squirming shifts the chair back and forth and forward and back. Unevenly distributed weight nearly causes him to fall on his side, but Feyd sets him upright before he can crack his head on the stone floor. 

Reaching around his back, Feyd pulls out a small knife and in one sharp motion sinks it into Aldo’s thigh with a sickening yet satisfying thick thud. “Stay put,” he growls, then he turns to you with a smile. “Yes, I would kill him, if that would make you happy.”

Water pools in the corner of your eyes. Your bottom lip begins to quiver. Feyd rushes to you and cups your cheeks in warm palms. 

“Do not cry,” he demands as his thumbs brush over your cheekbones. “You know I hate it.”

“I'm sorry,” you say, sucking in a few deep breaths between your sniffles. “No one has ever done something like this for me before.”

His face softens. “I’d do everything for you,” he swears before drawing you in for a kiss; slow and sensual and sweet in front of the broken man who currently has a claim on your hand. You lose yourself to mouths moving in perfect sync until he pulls back. 

“So, do you have a preference?” he asks, giving you one final peck. “Slit throat now, or arena in the morning?”

Your head tilts in contemplation as you observe the distressed, wailing man who has happily hurt and terrified you. By nature, you are not a violent woman, not in the way your man is a violent man, and you were raised to believe that it is improper and rude and disrespectful to wish pain upon someone else—downright cruel or whatever—but there’s a sense of freedom now. Clearer mind, lighter heart, straighter spine, weakened conscience.

You raise a brow. “If I choose the arena, will you make a show of it?”

Feyd hums in agreement.

“And, um…” you pause.

“You can have anything you want,” Feyd says at your hesitation.

You nod, your confidence renewing with his encouragement. Yes, he’s right, you can have anything. With Feyd, it’s anything, and it’s conditionless. 

As you slowly drag your hand down his chest, you peer up at him through your lashes. “Will you go in without a shirt? I’d like to see you come out covered in red.”

Feyd smirks then steps out of your arms and crouches in front of your soon-to-be-former betrothed. “Did you hear her?” he asks Aldo as he flicks the hilt of the blade sticking out of his flesh. Aldo whimpers, pressing his legs together. “Covered, she says. And I will give her what she wants because I love her and this is how I respect her.”

Leaning down, you wrap your arms around his shoulders. “Let’s go to our room. I want to thank you…properly,” you whisper, softly kissing just under his ear before sucking his earlobe into your mouth. Feyd groans.

“And then I will properly thank you for thanking me, my love,” he says with a grin that falls into a frown when he turns back to Aldo. “See, Kenric? Respect.” Feyd slaps the top of Aldo’s leg for emphasis as he stands. “You can keep the knife for now. Can't have you bleeding out. We have an important day ahead of us and I don’t want it to be too easy.”

“Come on,” you snicker, pulling him by the hand as you walk backward out of the cell. 

Feyd spins and grabs you at the waist to lift you into his arms. You giggle as your legs lock around his hips.

“Will you agree to marry me now?” he asks you.

“Yes,” you tell him, your lips ghosting over his. “You saved me.”

--

tags (let me know if you want to be on the list): @avidreader73

[cloverfarm]

— read you like a book

sdv!harvey x f!reader

rated e - 5k

Tags: gentledom/service!dom harvey, mutual pining/ yearning, mention of alcohol, flirting, kissing, begging, teasing, body worship, oral sex, vaginal fingering, implied squirting, multiple orgasms

A/N: had the thought that Harvey would know just how to take care of you, and wanted to explore that idea (and still deep in my Harvey-is-a-dirty-talker era)

“You want to know what I was really thinking about?” Harvey rasps, the tips of his fingers skating against your waist, slipping down to tease against the elastic band.

“I was thinking-,” A finger slips beneath the band, testing the elastic. Inching it away from your skin, but not making to remove them, “A girl like you should be taken care of.”

His voice drops, “And that I wanted to be the one to do it.”

(Or - Harvey overhears about your past lackluster experiences, and can’t help wanting to lend a hand)

There’s the clack of pool balls colliding in your corner of the Stardrop Saloon. The jaunty piano music muted, your fingers wrapping around a sweat-dewed glass.

A late-night Friday evening, the conversation already turning debauched as your off-handed remark of feeling frustrated was quickly misinterpreted and took another turn. Spiraling away from you, with their overlapping ideas.

Your nose crinkling with a suggestion to use the community board, one that has them bent-over with laughter - you could only imagine the shock at seeing such a message.

Help Wanted: Farmer looking to get ploughed. Used to getting a little dirty. If interested, please call…

“Could use an app. Been a while, but I used to do that.” Shane’s wiggles his phone at you, keying in the website for FerngillFlings. Flashing the front page at you, all while you try to ignore the clench of jealousy that flares to life in your stomach.

Sam leans over you, squinting at the screen, “You can’t tell me that works. Your matches come all the way out here?”

“Sure do.” Shane’s shoulder lifts in a shrug, from where his arm rests on the couch behind you. “Haven’t heard any complaints.”

The double-innuendo isn’t missed, your tongue poking into your cheek as your head shakes in exasperation.

“Haven’t heard, or haven’t listened?” Abigail shoots back with a smirk, and he rolls his eyes at her in response.

“Any matches from here?” You can’t help but ask, glancing sideways at him in curiosity.

He slumps a little further in his seat, knee knocking against yours, “Wouldn’t you like to know, farm girl?”

Thick fingers curl around the can before it lifts it to his lips, hiding his own smirk as you stiffen beside him.

Shane infuriated you. Always teasing, never answering a question directly. Deflecting a sly comment with a dry one of his own, until you weren’t sure where you stood with him.

You’d given up a while ago.

Your heart now quite taken with another.

“I think we’d all like to know.” Abigail chimes in, and you send a grin her way.

“I thought we were still talking about Miss Grange Queen?”

Your look turns apologetic - you know Pierre has been prepping all week as well - but she brushes it off, “I don’t care. Honestly, I hope you win this year. But he is right…”

A chipped polished nail taps her lip, before she fixes you with a look of concern, “When was the last time you got laid?”

The gulping swallow of your drink goes down wrong, making you splutter. A solid hand thumps you on the back, as your palm swipes across your mouth.

“What?” You manage, through watery eyes.

“Okay, we definitely gotta know.” The hand still rests against you, pinned against the plush cushion of the couch. Fingers tapping expectantly between your shoulders.

Yoba almighty.

You know they won’t back down. Even Sam lingers, eyebrows raised as his hip rests against the edge of the pool table.

“It’s been… a while.” You hedge, glancing around the room before you can answer. Voice lowering - not worried about the bar, it’s too far away.

More concerned about the booth that sits just across the room. Occupied when you arrived - your gaze flicking to Elliot often as he had sat alone, waiting.

Knowing who would be coming - a little flip in your stomach with Harvey arrived late, red-cheeked from the run, the novel pinched between his fingers.

You thought it was cute. Their little weekly book club. On another night you would have hoped to eavesdrop - figure out what the choice was for this month.

“You talking weeks? Months?” Sam asks, ignoring the glare from Sebastian, the hip check that follows - indicating his turn.

“Pre-farm,” Your head shakes, “Two years, maybe?”

“Years?” Abigail screeches, as your eyes widen - a hand coming to press unconsciously against a burning cheek.

Unable to help the sidelong look at the table across the way. The heat in your cheek rising to your ears when your eyes meet hazel ones, before you’re dropping your gaze.

“It’s not worth it,” You try to rein them in, all but pleading, “It’s not like it’s all that satisfying either, you know?”

“You mean you don’t…?” Abigail suggests - looking at you dubiously, and even Sebastian is turning to give you a pitying look.

“I mean… sometimes, I guess?” Your shoulder lifts, and then drops, “It’s not a big deal.”

You could get there yourself just fine. Have certainly managed, with your current dry spell. Before, you sometimes would afterwards - alone - easing the unresolved pleasure that licks in your belly.

But you’re sure it wasn’t the same as having someone there with you. Having their focus so solely on you.

It’s not something you’re about to explain. This has gotten too deep. You’re used to the tales of Shane’s old one night stands. The occasional complexities that come from Sam and Abigail both dating the same person, but these talks rarely focus on you.

“What kind of guys are you fucking?” Shane asks bluntly, making you gasp.

“Normal guys.” You hiss, “Besides, it’s probably just me.”

Taking a sip of your drink then to deflect, the sharp flavor making you cough.

“You don’t starfish, do you?” Sam pipes up, helpfully.

It has you almost choking again.

Shane smirks, “Maybe it is you, Farm Girl. Should have someone here take a look-”

You miss the end of his comment with the sudden, loud scrape of wood. Heads turning to where Harvey half-stands, his chair pushed back. Staring your way, with lips parted and brow furrowed.

“You got something to say, Doc?” Shane scoffs, his voice a little too loud.

Harvey blinks, and reddens. Coming back to himself, a sharp click of teeth as they close - swiping his half-full glass from the table.

Mumbling something about needing a refill - before his head is dipping, and he makes towards the bar.

Your eyes follow him, before your hand is scrubbing over your face - the heels pressing into your eye sockets. And finally, mercifully, the subject is changed, a collective groan as Sam accidently knocks two stripes in the corner pockets.

But even as the evening fades - you can’t quite shake Harvey’s expression from your mind.

The air is cool, hinting at the coming frost. Your jacket shrugged on as you step outside, before plunking down on the cobblestone path outside of the Stardrop.

It’s dark, late. The scattered streetlights outside offering pockets of the town, the rest cast in hazy shadow.

There’s a flare of light to your side. Sebastian sneaking out for his smoke break, now that Robyn and Demetrius have called it a night. You sometimes go with him, keeping silent company.

Content to let your legs dangle, to listen to the croak and groan of the frogs near the river. To let your mind wander.

Tonight though, it’s still so singularly focused.

You don’t feel embarrassed about what you said, only that he overheard it. Harvey had so much of his life together - surely a man who was there to discuss books and drink wine would not want to spent his evening listening to the lewd gossip of folks younger than him.

What if he took your words to heart, and thought you were not interested? What if he thought you weren’t good? A sigh to yourself then, as you pull yourself together with a reminder. Not that he thinks anything of you.

But… you admit that you had hoped.

It’s only now that you hear voices just down the path, two friends bidding goodbye. That shade of green you’ve come to associate with Harvey has your ears pricking up - catching where they linger, near the park benches.

Bravery steeling itself, in your belly.

“I’m gonna head out,” You hear yourself saying, as you push to your feet, “I’ll catch up with you guys tomorrow.”

“You sure?” Sebastian asks, with a smoky exhale.

“Yeah.” It’s distracted. Giving him a wave, just as you skirt around the door that opens behind you.

Missing the pair of eyes that follow you as you leave.

Too far out of earshot to hear the murmured words, as he exhales another held drag from his cigarette, “You’re missing your chance, man.”

And then the answer, growled out as Shane’s hands shove deep into the pockets of his well-worn jacket.

“Never had one.”

“Harvey!” You call out, as he splits from his companion.

Missing how Elliot settles amongst the trio of benches, his book cracking open to finish the chapter under the streetlight.

Harvey lingers, in the middle of the cobblestone path. His expression almost wary, your explanation coming in a rush.

“I am sorry if we made you uncomfortable.” Your hands clasp together, fingers twisting, “We should’ve been more considerate. You and Elliot were there first.”

His expression clears at that, a slight mark between his eyebrows. He’s tall, you’re realizing. Not that you didn’t know, not that you haven’t stood next to him on occasion.

But your heart had never quite pounded like this, never so acutely aware of your proximity - too used to the barrier of the counter in his office.

“No, uh, not at all. I wasn’t uncomfortable.” Harvey clarifies, his voice soft, “I certainly didnt mean to try to interrupt. I’m afraid that was rude of me.”

His answer sends your mind careening into overdrive. Not quite taking his half-hearted excuse earlier, but too wrapped up in your embarrassment to truly process it.

That has you thinking - realizing that he had some sort of intention. Your heartbeat kicking up a notch, unable to help but wonder.

“Can I ask you something?” Your eyes search his, voice quiet in the night, “You don’t have to answer.”

The slight curve of his lips fall, an almost uneasy look passing his features - though he does not deny you, “If you’d like.”

“What were you going to say?” You ask him “Back in the bar. You can tell me, I won’t tell anyone.”

Your words hang, for a moment. And then silence, enveloped by the soft sounds of the night.

“Oh.” He hedges, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck, “It’s, ah… it’s just a shame.”

Your eyebrows lift, worry flooding through you as you wonder what he means.

“That you haven’t had a more… positive experience.” He finishes lamely.

The worry transforms, turning into a heated curiosity.

“Why would it be a shame?”

The shade of pink deepens across his cheeks, hidden in the shadows. A finger unconsciously hooking around his collar and tugging.

“Because there’s no reason satisfaction can’t be mutually inclusive,” He manages, “From uh, the point of view of a medical professional.”

Your lips press together to hide your laugh, charmed by his careful answer, “How I wish that were true.”

And that had him fixing on you, catching you in the brunt of his gaze, “It could be. Maybe you just haven’t met the right person yet.”

It makes your breath catch. That hope flaring to life again. Reading into his meaning, daring yourself to ask, “Is that right? You know anyone around here?”

Only to watch the way his face goes carefully blank - his words slow, “I’m sure… I’m sure you don’t need my help to find out.”

It’s hard not to feel disappointed. Hoping that there was an offer, woven into his words. The bit you had clung to leaves you, with the next exhale of your breath.

“I’m sure you’re right.” Your smile is small. Deflecting with a joke, because it’s all you know, “I don’t starfish, by the way. If you heard that part.”

He huffs a laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“I didn’t think you did.”

The look he gives you is at odds with his hesitance in answering. A soft, amused smile that makes your heart flip.

Yoba, you have it bad.

“Goodnight, Harvey.” You smile back - intent on ending the night before you make it worse, “And, thank you.”

His answer echos yours, his feet firmly rooted as you disappear into the night. Silence lingering under the soft glow of the street lamp, as his mind races.

“If you were looking for an invitation, old friend,” An amused voice comes from the benches - where Elliot still sits, his book long forgotten.

“That was it.”

The television blares as you stretch out on the couch - intent on unwinding a bit further, after a long day. Immediately stripping down to your loungewear as soon as you stepped in the door, cracking a window to let in the autumn air.

Your head rests on a pillow, an old quilt pulled haphazardly around your hips as you watch a rerun of The Queen of Sauce - something that fortunately required little attention.

Because your mind is occupied elsewhere, thinking back to the square with both chagrin and disappointment. Hoping that maybe Harvey had drank more wine than you thought - that maybe he wouldn’t remember how you all but threw yourself at him.

Gentleman that he is, he probably just wouldn’t bring it up in the first place. You don’t know if that’s more preferable, or less - perhaps you owe him yet another apology.

A timid knock at the door draws your attention, your feet silent as you slip from the couch. You really should move it - giving yourself a view of the small, narrow porch. Maybe installing another light outside.

But this was Pelican Town, you remind yourself - you’re not in the big city anymore. It was probably Abigail, not wanting to head home yet.

For now, you move to the door, pausing to shrug on the worn, plaid barn coat that hangs by the door, buttoning it in an last-minute attempt at modesty.

Your hand on the frame of the door as you crack the front door open, close enough to grab the old wooden bat you have tucked next to the rickety side table.

Eyes going wide when you realize who it is.

Harvey. His face half-turned away, looking like he’s second-guessing himself from your delay - half-way ready to book it down the steps that lead to the packed dirt road.

“Hi again,” You nudge the door open wider, leaning against the frame.

He turns back, surprise crossing his features again when he sees you. Eyes dipping down, snagging - slowly dragging back up over the bare skin of your legs, the low dip of the collar, as if he has forgotten himself for a moment.

“Hi.” He answers belatedly, blinking as he comes back into the present.

You wait a beat for him to explain, for any sort of sign as to why he’s here. Wondering why he travelled all the way in near-darkness, you knew more than anyone what a trek it could be.

And he must realize, because he blinks again, worry pulling down the edges of his brows, a small crease appearing in the middle.

“I-, well, Elliot-,” Harvey begins, throwing a thumb over his shoulder into the darkness, his other hand still clutching the book from the Saloon. Starting over when he realizes he’s making zero sense, “Back, in the square.”

His lips pressing together for a moment, an inhale of breath before the words rush out, “Am I misreading this?”

An emphasis on ‘this’, a small gesture with his fingers between the two of you. It makes you smile, relief flooding through you - enough to where you’re reaching out, tapping a fingernail against the solid cover of the book.

“I think you’re reading this just fine.” Your head tilts up to look him in the eye, seeing the relief on his own features as well, “Would you like to come in?”

“Yes,” He breathes, and you’re stepping aside with a smile - taking his book from him to rest on the little side table.

Hanging his moss-green jacket on your one good hanger by the door, showing him where to put his shoes.

Steps that make the floorboards creak because he doesn’t know which ones to avoid - not yet - as he lets you guide him to the couch. Carefully sitting on the middle cushion, the sharp, white starch of his dress shirt standing out against the worn, rust-orange fabric.

Your own feet following until you’re standing in from of him. Not quite believing, as your face tilts down to meet the upturned angle of his own.

Harvey was here.

The man who got more than a little bossy with you when you came in to the clinic with a bad scrape, or a cold. Who always has a smile, who listened intently when you keep him up to date about the new crops you’re growing, even though he knows nothing about farming.

Who you never had let yourself daydream about too often, because he had always kept you at arms length. You had always thought it was part of his profession, or that perhaps he just didn’t see you like that.

Like he’s looking at you now - like you’ve hung the stars.

You really want to kiss him.

You hope he’ll let you.

Slowly, like when you’re approaching a new calf, you move toward him. The slight, automatic spread of his knees as you step between them, before your own knees are bending.

Hands resting on the wooden frame of couch as you lower yourself - until you’re straddling his thighs, bare knees pressing into the worn cushions on either side.

“This okay?” You ask, close enough to smell a hint of his aftershave, the solid weight of him beneath you.

Hands that slide from their place at his side, up the curve of your calves, until they’re resting on the bare expanse of your thighs.

“Yes.” The word comes out low, fingers pressing against your skin as your own drop to the thick buttons of your coat, slowly working each one open.

Until you’re shrugging the fabric off to pool on the wooden floor - all bare arms and legs beneath in your too-large t-shirt, a pair of cotton underwear.

About to apologize for your choice in clothing - never actually expecting to take someone home - but the hands rise, cradling your face as he tips it to meet his.

A low sound in your throat at his lips touch yours, your hands resting on his chest, fingers fisting in the fabric. A feather-soft brush until you shift, pressing yourself against him as you lean in.

His groan matches yours. Hands moving, skating down your arms, curving around your hips. Your hips roll on their own, seeking the friction of his trousers. Something warm pooling in your belly, when he deepens the kiss.

Encouraging you, as those hands guide the roll of your hips again. As his tongue brushes against lips that part without thought.

There’s the sharp punch of fruit on his tongue, paired with the taste of him. A heady mixture, making you feel like you could get drunk off just this.

You can feel him harden beneath you. Pressing against your cleft as your thighs inch further apart. It’s only when your hands leave his - reaching for the bottom of your shirt, that he breaks away.

His lips kiss-swollen and pretty. Disheveled, his tie crooked, shirt wrinkled from your fingers. Equally dazed, his eyes flicking down to your mouth, and then further again.

“Not here.” Harvey’s voice is a low rasp, unmoving despite his demand.

It has your pausing, until you catch the way his first two fingers slip under the hem, petting against skin.

“Bedroom?” You offer, and he’s smiling. Leaning forward to kiss you again. Easing you off him but it’s reluctant - his fingers twining with yours as you stumble into the next room.

It’s darker in there, the light from the television flickering against the floor. Dissolving as it reaches your bed, your knees parting this time as he stands between them.

Your eyes greedy, focused on his fingers as he loosens his tie, the first few buttons of his shirt. His own drifting over every inch and curve of you. A short intake of air as you tug the shirt from your shoulders, leaving it to drop on the floor.

It feels like you’re on display, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not with the way he looks at you - his eyes snagging on the damp patch between your thighs, the pale fabric darkening with your arousal.

“You want to know what I was really thinking about?” He rasps, the tips of his fingers skating against your waist, slipping down to tease against the elastic band.

You’re near-mute. Left nodding, as the bed dips. As he urges you back into the pillows, folding himself onto the mattress with you.

“I was thinking-,” He tests the band, a finger slipping beneath. Inching it away from your skin, but not making to remove them, “A girl like you should be taken care of.”

His voice drops, “And that I wanted to be the one to do it.”

You feel yourself clench down around nothing. A low whine in your throat at the tone of his voice. So matter-of fact. Like he knows how to do just what he says.

“Can you?” It comes out strangled, your breath held as his eyes fix on yours, “Could you show me? What it’s like to be taken care of?”

“Would you like that, sweetheart?” He asks - his gaze searching. Slipping a second finger under, the blunt nails grazing sensitive skin.

“Yoba.” Your hips feel like they lift on their own, seeking him, “Yes. Please, yes.”

He smiles again, the moonlight catching on his glasses. A hand running through tousled curls, mussing them further. Fingers joining yours as your panties join the floor, baring yourself fully.

You expect him to touch you and he does - but not in the way you’re thinking. Lowering himself next to you, guiding your mouth to his again. His hand skimming the inside of your thigh. Fingers slipping along the crease where it meet your hip, inches away from where you ache for him.

“Harvey.” You sigh into his mouth. Chasing it when he pulls back, hearing the pleased hum in his throat. Carefully removing his glasses, tucking them into his shirt pocket.

Then his mouth is dropping to your neck, where your pulse flutters. To your shoulder. All while his fingers trace your skin, making you squirm in anticipation.

When his tongue peeks out to brush against tight, peaked nipple, you hear yourself cry out. Clinging to him again, as teeth graze against your breast - followed by a soothing kiss, his mustache tickling against the soft curve.

“I need you to touch me,” You pant.

Long forgetting what it was like to feel like this. The anticipation swirling in you like a dam about to burst. The desperation - knowing after all this time of wanting him, that tonight he is yours.

Your own hands grasping at him - tugging at the buttons. Pale skin and dark hair appearing with each one that loosens, trying to pull the hem from where it tucks into his trousers.

The hand against your thigh twitches, his gaze dark as he glances up at you. No longer hidden behind frames, you can see how his pupils are blown wide, inching out the hazel.

“I just want to make sure you’re ready, sweetheart.” He rasps, inching closer - fingers parting on either side of your mound.

“Want you nice and wet for me.”

It’s too much. You’re too wound up, needy. In your daydreams you’ve thought of him - in your bed, bent over the table in his office. Everything pales in comparison to this, turning you into a begging mess.

“I am,” You breathe, “Fuck, Harvey. You know I am, I’m-”

The words break off, turning into a ragged moan as he finally touches you. Parting your slick seam, where you’re dripping from the press of his mouth and the teasing glide of his fingers.

“There you are.” He hums, though you can feel the way his hips press against yours. Chasing his own urges, seeking friction where he strains.

Your eyes flutter half-shut as he teases as your entrance. Fingertips slick as he brings them up to circle your clit, sparks going up inside your belly.

Watching as he moves, the careful ease from where he lies next to you - now settling between your thighs.

“Yoba, you’re beautiful.”

He says it so simply, almost as if in awe. Your thighs start to clamp shut around his hand but he’s smiling - his left palm pressing your leg to the bed, opening you further.

Not used to his gaze like this. It flicks from your face, down to where his hands shift - his thumb rolling against your clit, as his middle finger sinks inside you.

He can feel how you clench around him already. Movements slow, drawing himself out just to sink further each time.

“So fucking pretty.” He says it again - you think, just to see you squirm. The way your eyes pull from his, the flex of your muscle under his palm.

Transfixed by the way his fingers move. The pressure against your clit, the way he presses deep. Your small room filled with the little sounds you make and the slick plunge of his finger.

Your panting breath catching, turning sharp as his finger crooks on the next pass. Carefully stroking against your inner walls, a throb of pleasure following.

He catches your sounds, a mark forming between his eyebrows. One you’ve seen before, in the way he focuses when you’re explaining something about your farm. A sweet stretch of pressure when he adds his ring finger, opening you further as he strokes again.

You haven’t felt anything quite like this. A ghost of it, with past lovers. Something that made your muscles tighten, but never so focused.

Like he’s intentionally searching for this spot that makes sparks arc up your spine. Making you ache for more - to be filled by him.

“Mm,” He hums with satisfaction, “Right there. Does that feel good?”

It’s hard to think, with the thrust of his fingers. The circling pressure against your clit. Your own fingers curling - one in the sheets, an anchor. The other drifting up to cup at your breast, unable to help leaning into his ministrations.

“Tell me, sweetheart.”

There’s an edge to his voice. One that he uses in his place of authority, one that only stokes the roaring flame in your belly. Everything winding tight in anticipation, each steady pump of his fingers hurtling you towards your peak.

“Yes,” You moan, “Yes. Oh, Harvey-”

His head dips, mouth pressing a kiss against your abdomen.

“Good girl.” He husks, with your answer. The words shoot straight to your cunt, just as you begin to arch into his touch.

“Oh, please-” You whine, eyes sliding shut, “Fuck, you’re gonna make me come.”

The pinch of your fingers harsh against the tight bud of your nipple. The flicker of pain melding with the tight swirl of his thumb.

“Good.” He all but growls, the words low and rough in his throat, “Come on, honey. Show me.”

Your next moan turns high and long - as that tight string inside you finally snaps. A throbbing pleasure that begins at the apex of your thighs, radiating outwards as you bear down around him.

The hand in your sheets grasping and slipping on your way to him - his hand leaves your thigh to twine with it. Anchoring you as your hips buck into fingers that have gone still, giving you something to clench around.

“Just like that,” He coos, “Ride it out, I’ve got you.”

His breath warm against your skin, a kiss pressed to your stomach again, then hip.

“It’s not you,” Harvey tells you, each kiss moving lower, “You know that, right?”

Your breath catching - it feels like your cunt is still pulsing, when his mouth dips further. Not waiting for your answer this time - driving his point home with the talented tongue that suddenly presses against the bud of your clit, wet and warm.

Ensuring you won’t forget.

A moan is ripped from you, as he teases. Tight pointed licks, a flat lick following. A rough groan as he tastes your orgasm that coats his fingers, only just how beginning to move.

You’re too sensitive, squirming at his touch. Panting breaths and little jerks of your hips, the tight twist of overstimulation bleeding into something smooth and sweet as honey.

He’s ruining you for everyone else. The thought is a blurry one, something you can barely snatch. He hasn’t even fucked you yet, and you’ve already come harder than you ever have.

And is already working you towards a second. A rough groan when you let your fingers leave his to twist in his dark curls. Grasping onto his shoulder with the other one, his shirt wrinkling further.

You want it off. You want all of it off, want him bare and on top of you. Want to taste him on your tongue. Taste yourself against his lips, after this.

Unsure how he’s able to do it. Bring you to the edge again so quickly, but maybe it’s because you’ve never desired someone like this.

Deeper than desire, though you’re not quite ready to admit it.

You’re brought back, as his palm presses beneath your thigh. Hiking it over a shoulder, opening you to be devoured. Those fingers more confident now, sure and slick as they pound into you. Louder now, with the way you coat them, your release smeared across your thighs.

This time when you come, it’s against his tongue.

Brought over with the way his lips close sound and suck. The way he groans at your taste, his clever fingers leaving you breathless.

Choking on your heartbeat as you shatter. His wide palm curled around your thigh, keeping your cunt pinned against his tongue.

This time he can feel your pulse. Each throb of pleasure as it resonates through you. Feel the way you gush for him - his fingers dampening further, across knuckles and the flesh of his palm.

“Fuck.” You moan, when you can breathe again.

You expect him to pull away, after this. He must know you’re more than ready. But instead all you can see is dark eyes, a tongue that slips between the fingers that are still buried in you.

“Harvey,” You gasp, as his tongue then lifts to curl over your clit again, “Don’t you want to-?”

Doesn’t he want to fuck you?

Isn’t he aching, like you are?

“Tonight is about you,” He answers firmly. Lips glossy with your release, and despite his words you don’t miss the way his hips press into the bed.

“Sounds like I got some time to make up for.”

Your head falls back onto the pillow as you huff a laugh, breath catching as you feel his fingers slip free just long enough to work in a third.

Already finding that spot again, as he begins to build towards a third.

If he can read you this easily already, you think dizzily…

You can’t wait to find out everything else he knows.

So here for the Harvey Renaissance 🙏💕 would love to know what you thought! Are you enjoying 1.6? (If so what are your mod recs???) | part ii is up here!

[itneverendshere]

school spirit and all! - soccer!frat!rafe cameron blurb (+18)

warnings: smart!reader (doesn't take shit) x bimbo!rafe <3; pope being an absolute menace; mentions of sex but no actual p in v okay; this shit is football and y'all can argue with a wall <3 IT PAINS ME TO WRITE SOCCER Y'ALL BETTER APPRECIATE IT !!!

ps: this is just for fun cause someone asked me to post it (it was just a draft😬)

you’ve never been one for academic sports spirit.

what’s the point? okay, your school has incredible athletes, that’s good, but why the fuck would you kiss and praise the ground they walk on? you’re a fantastic student and no one gives a shit. why do they get all the glory while brainiacs get zilch?

the double standards piss you off. somehow academics always take the backseat to sports. maybe that explained your dislike towards jocks like rafe cameron.

up until sophomore year, you’d only heard about him, saw him occasionally around school. it was understandable why people talked about him so often. he looked like he’d just been ripped off a page of an abercrombie and fitch catalog, and apparently – you’d never attended a game to check – he was the best player on the team, playing forward. but, unlike many, you didn’t form an opinion about him until you met him.

the verdict? total pain in your fucking ass.

ever since you two were paired in a class project together, an annual class at that, he suddenly took an interest in you, like you were some sort of exotic animal he’d never encountered in his life, only because you wouldn’t flirt with him.

outrageous, never done before.

for the first four months, it was just him laying on the cheesy pickup lines and you rolling your eyes so hard you thought they'd pop out of your head. eventually, rafe dialed it down and you were able to be civil, perhaps friends. if you could call it that.

wich is why, as his friend, you’re starting to lose your fucking patience. the season was not going well for his team. at all. there’s little to no chance they’re going to be able to win the championship.

not that you care, but apparently the whole school does. everyone seems to be on the verge of a meltdown.

“i swear to god if they lose to standford next week–“

“pope, will you kindly shut the fuck up? it’s just soccer.”

“just soccer?”

you let out an exasperated sigh, glancing over at pope who looks at you like you’ve just shot someone, “can we study? peacefully?”

"it’s not just soccer! it's about school spirit, camaraderie, y’know?"

you raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. "camaraderie? please. more like a bunch of testosterone-fueled egos chasing after a ball," you retort, disdain evident in your tone.

“you don't know what you're talking about. and i'm being dead serious, cameron’s been on edge lately. never seen him like this."

you lean back in your chair, crossing your arms. "yeah, well, losing does that to people. don't why you're complaining soooo much" you sigh, "i’m the one who has to put up with all the brooding and pouting.”

pope’s quiet. too quiet. you can picture the gears turning in his brain as he blankly stares at you. nothing good ever comes out of that.

“what?” you press, wondering if you have to break the school spirit out of him.

“you should fuck him. after or before, don't care. but you should."

you recoil, nearly tumbling out of your chair at pope's suggestion.

your eyes widen in disbelief, your mind struggling to process what he just said. for a moment, the room spins around you, and you feel like you’ve been thrust into some surreal alternate universe.

“what?! pope?" you finally manage to sputter, acting like you're about to go into cardiac arrest, "the fuck's wrong with you?"

“don’t look at me like that,” he merely shrugs, “that man is depressed. he needs to get laid if he’s going to win something.“

you hardly think a guy like rafe is not getting laid every other day, but that’s irrelevant. your jaw drops, stunned by his audacity. "are you kidding me? you don’t even like him!”

“but i like winning!” he whines, all but pushing his books aside to place in his elbows on the table, “and he’s so obsessed with you it hurts watching. he’s like one of those little crusty white dogs always running after you.”

you shake your head in disbelief, "he does it to be funny, okay? he’s not actually interested.. t's just a joke”

your best friend only laughs, a raucous, almost maniacal sound that echoes through the room. he clutches his stomach, "just joking?" pope gasps out, his laughter still bubbling to the surface. "oh man. you're hilarious, honestly, wow."

you stare at him, lips set in a straight line, feeling like you missed the entire joke. "what's so funny?"

pope wipes away a fake tear, trying to compose himself. "he almost ripped a new one to jj after he pulled that stunt last semester.”

your eyebrows knit together in skepticism. “and? i still don’t follow.”

rafe and jj couldn’t stand each other. both are incredible athletes and everyone always gushes about how great they are together on the field. outside, however? not so much. they don't mix. ever.

“and?! why do you think jj randomly talked about you in the locker room?”

“because he’s a horny creep and got a kink for fist fights with undressed men?”

you love jj. really, you do. but sometimes he’d win a lot more if he just kept his mouth shut or thought before speaking. you've lost count of how many times that boy has been suspended.

pope leans in, his tone low and conspiratorial, “cameron practically threatened to rearrange jj's face if he ever mentioned you again.”

you narrow your eyes, “nop. you’re making that up.”

pope shakes his head, a grin playing on his lips. "nah, i'm dead serious.”

your mind races, trying to piece it all together. while your brain always clicks instantly in class, feelings...emotions are a little more complicated to grasp sometimes.

"wait, so you're saying he actually cares about me?"

he nods, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "yep.”

“seriously?”

pope chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "head over heels. you’re our school’s only hope.”

your brain's on overdrive trying to process pope's bombshell revelation. rafe cameron, the big-shot jock, actually giving a fuck about you? it's like some twisted plot line from a teen drama. you didn’t see this one coming. but then again, you hardly pay attention to anything outside academics.

“so what? ’m supposed to fuck the mediocrity out of him?”

he grins, clapping you on the shoulder, “there’s that school spirit!”

you slap his hand away, “oh fuck off. ‘m being serious.”

he’s still grinning like he just cracked the code to life. "come on, hear me out. it's like a strategic move, y’ know? boost his morale, boost the team's performance. win-win."

you roll your eyes, not buying into his scheme. "yeah, because my sex habilities are definitely the key to winning soccer games."

he shrugs, undeterred. "it's not like you'd be doing it for him. it's all about the greater good."

you scoff, rearranging your notes for the millionth time, "this isn't some feel-good sports movie."

it’s not like you never thought about rafe. sure, he's a yapping idiot around you most of the time, but every time you need help or an extra hand, he’s always the first one to offer. that has to count for something, right?

“the ball’s in your court.”

yeah it is.

truth to be told, you’ve been sick and tired of rafe acting like a loser over soccer. what was the point in whining about it if he wasn’t going to try and do better? god, you'd never seen him like this before and it's been irking you to beyond. even more now that pope mentioned it again.

at this point, you just want to march up to him, shake him and make it come to his senses. you can’t even remember that last time he tried to hit on you. that’s how bad it is! the memory is buried under the weight of his brooding.

so maybe….maybe pope's onto something, y'know? maybe there's more to it than just you and rafe. and yeah, okay, you're not exactly thrilled about the idea of hopping into bed with him, but only because you’d hate the attention that comes along with his name.

but...a part of you is weirdly intrigued. not because you're dying to be his next conquest, but because you're just done with watching him drown in his own misery. maybe this could be the wake-up call he needs. a swift kick in the ass to snap him out of his funk.

you wouldn’t be doing out of selfish reasons! school spirit and all. you’d be doing everyone a favor. and you wouldn't need to blame it on yourself if things went downhill.

you had pope for that.

which is why you’re standing in front of rafe's room in his frat.

a jock and a frat boy? charming. you’ve certainly hit the jackass lottery. but you’ve been here before. he always saved the day when the library was packed or when your roommate was too busy fucking her boyfriend in your dorm room. this was weirdly your safe place to work.

taking a deep breath, you rap your knuckles against the door, trying to ignore the butterflies doing somersaults in your stomach. it's not about you! get a grip.

the door swings open, and there's the fucker, all brooding and rugged, like he just walked off the set of a sports movie. you roll your eyes at the cliché, but there's something weird about the way he looks at you. or maybe the tight wife-beater is doing a number on you.

you still notice the bags underneath his swollen eyes.

there's a flicker of surprise in him, like he wasn't expecting to see you, out of everyone in this school, standing there and you can't blame him; after all, you're not exactly a regular visitor to the frat house, only when your academic needs force you to.

“hey?”

“you look like shit, cameron.”

rafe's eyebrows raise in surprise at your blunt remark, “uh, what?”

you roll your eyes resisting the urge to scoff. "can i come in or are you going to stand there looking like an idiot all day?”

rafe chuckles, stepping aside to let you into his room, “come on in.”

you step inside, taking in the cluttered room with a mixture of amusement and mild disgust. it was never this bad before, you know rafe’s a clean freak and this? this is not him. but it is exactly how you imagined a frat boy's room would look like—dirty.

there’s laundry strewn across the floor, empty beer cans littering the desk, and a distinct musky smell lingering in the air. you shake your head in disbelief, shooting rafe a disapproving look.

"what are you? a divorced forty-five-year-old man?”

rafe laughs at your comment, though there's a hint of embarrassment in his expression as he scratches the back of his neck. "yeah, i know. sorry about that."

he’s doing worse than what you realized and it tugs a little at your heartstrings.

you raise an eyebrow, unconvinced by his apology. "sorry doesn't cut it, cameron. you should be ashamed of yourself.”

"okay, fair point. i'll clean up, promise."

“not just your stupid room. i mean your whole attitude. you've been moping around like a loser!”

rafe's expression shifts, defensiveness crossing his features. "hey, ‘m not—"

"don't even try to deny it," you interrupt, not backing down. "everyone’s noticed. you’re pissing me off.”

you don’t know why you’re suddenly so tempted to give him the scolding of a lifetime, but there’s just something about seeing someone with so much potential and drive wasting it all away without a fight. it’s not like him.

and by the kicked-puppy look on his face, you can tell he's not used to being called out so openly. but you're dead set on breaking through to him, no matter how awkward it gets.

“see! you’re just staring at me like—like, a fucking idiot!”, you fire off, frustration lacing your tone. the irony of the situation isn't lost on you. “will you speak for gods sake? for more than five seconds? i spent months trying to get you to shut up and now you do?”

rafe's stunned expression makes you second guess your approach for a moment, but you push the feeling aside, knowing you can't afford to let sympathy cloud your purpose here.

“why are you mad at me?”

you can't believe he's still clueless after all this time.

"why am i mad at you?" you repeat incredulously, feeling the irritation rising your my chest. "seriously, rafe? have you even looked in the mirror lately?"

he blinks at you, his confusion evident, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes.

"you've been moping around like the world's about to end.”

rafe's brows furrow even further, and for a moment, you wonder if he's playing dumb or if he genuinely has no idea what you’re talking about. "i don't—uh, i don't understand," he finally stammers out, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

that’s it.

you’re gonna pull the feelings card and hope it doesn’t backfire.

“do you like me?” you blurt out, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

rafe snorts as he lifts his finger to scratch his face, “course i do. pretty obvious.”

for a second you get a glimpse of the real rafe and it soothes you inside.

“and you want to fuck me?”

you’ve never seen him look so gobsmacked in his life, you’d laugh in his face if it wasn’t such a serious matter.

“what?” he stammers, his cheeks flushing slightly. you can’t believe the rafe cameron is blushing. over you.

you let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through your hair. "do you want to fuck me? do i need to spell it out for you?”

he opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out, and you can't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction at finally catching him off guard, “’m sorry? is this—are you…is this for punk’d?”

"punk'd? seriously, rafe?" you snap, incredulous that he would think this is some sort of prank, “it’s 2024.”

rafe's cheeks flush an even deeper shade of red, and he stammers again "no, i mean— i just...didn't expect you to— uhh”

“yes or no.”

rafe blinks at you before breathing out, “yes.”

“okay. so win your next match and you will.”

he looks at you like you’ve grown a second head, exhaling through his nose, trying to keep his agitation to a minimum. “what?”

“i’m sick and tired of this version of you. i need you to win, and if this” you gesture to the both of you with your hand, “is your motivation, then we’re doing it.”

"y’serious?" he takes a step closer, his demeanor suddenly more serious, “me and you?”

you nod firmly, crossing your arms over your chest as you tilt your head up to look at his features, “dead serious. and it’s not just you and me. it’s for the team, and for the school spirit or whatever nonsense pope keeps going on about."

rafe lets out a small chuckle, a hint of his usual cocky confident demeanor returning. "is that so? can't say no to that kind of motivation."

“i figured.”

he reaches out a hand, his fingers lightly grazing the strands of your hair, eyes fixed on your lips. "are there any rules?”

you swallow hard, feeling your heart race at his touch. “no, just win.”

rafe's lips curl into a playful smirk— the money-making smirk that makes you want to punch him and kiss him, not necessarily in that order — as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

"never would've guessed you'd be the one to offer yourself as my motivation, though," he murmurs, his voice sending a shiver down your spine, "i'm surprised."

you try to maintain your composure, but his proximity is making it increasingly difficult to think straight. "just doing what needs to be done," you manage to stammer out, trying to sound perfectly unaffected by his words.

rafe chuckles softly, his hand still lingering in your hair as he leans back slightly to look at you. "my pretty prize, huh?" he says, his tone teasing as he brushes a strand of hair away from your face.

you feel a flush spread across your features at his boldness. you blame him entirely for this side of you. without thinking, you reach up to brush your fingers against his cheek, tips pressings against his skin lightly.

“just win the fucking match, cameron."

rafe's nasty smirk widens into a heart-stopping, soul-gripping grin as he leans in closer, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours.

"consider it done."

[thelostconsultant]

Secrets

pairing: Lestappen x reader

summary: Charles convinces you to join his relationship with Max.

warnings: Well, not much, except for mentions of sexual activities, unprotected sex (wrap it, guys) and pregnancy.

note: Just little snippets stitched together to give you a glimpse into their life.

The plan began to form in Charles’s head when it was announced you would become his race engineer from the 2024 season. As you got closer and got to know each other better, he began to flirt with you, making it quite clear that he wanted something from you, and when he kissed you for the first time, feeling it in his bones that he got you, he finally told you the truth. 

“There’s something you should know,” he told you softly with his hand resting on your cheek. “I’ve been in a relationship for a good… three years now, but me and my partner are looking for someone to play with, someone who would be willing to be a part of our little secret.”

“Why do you keep it a secret?” you asked him, flashing a curious look at him. 

Charles let out a long sigh as he thought about what to say to that. “We are trying to avoid a scandal.”

“So it’s someone people know. Hmm… If I was held at gunpoint and they told me to name one person you might be in a controversial relationship with, my first guess would be Max, but–” When you came to a sudden halt, he knew his expression gave away his surprise that you figured it out on your own. Well, he wasn’t that good at keeping a poker face after all. “No way,” you said slowly, your voice suddenly dropping. 

He smiled at you after shaking off the bad feeling he had. You wouldn’t rat them out, he could tell, but now he was worried you would say no and it would change the way you work together. “Now you know, but please, this has to stay between us.”

You nodded your head a few times. “Sure, I won’t tell a soul.” There was a short pause, but then you looked back at him and said, “So how long have you been looking for a third member for this relationship?”

“We weren’t actively searching. When I met you, I found you attractive, then I got to know you better and realized I like your personality too. Max heard a lot of stories about you, and he was also attracted, so we just came to the rational conclusion that we would love to have you,” he explained. 

You agreed pretty easily. Sure, you did point out that it was only a pilot period, you wanted to see if this could even work, but that was more than enough for Charles. And soon enough you fell in love with them the same way they fell in love with you, and being together in this relationship became the new normal for you.

During race weekends the two of you could spend a lot more time together, easily slipping into his driver’s room to have some fun, but times like this you usually put extra effort into showing Max how much you loved him when you got him in your company again.

Charles was in an extremely good mood in the evening, and when Max finally arrived, he was immediately pulled into a hungry kiss, his back pressed against the now closed door. “Good drive today, pretty boy,” the Dutchman praised him as he placed kisses along his jawline. “Wish we could talk a little more.”

“We can talk now,” he said before letting out a short laugh and slipping out of his grasp to move towards the kitchen. 

Max shook his head with a smile as he glanced into the living room. “Where’s our princess?” he asked with a confused look as he followed the other man.

“Left to take care of something. Actually, it’s good that she’s not here, because I need to talk to you,” Charles said as he passed his boyfriend a glass of soda, who seemed much more interested in what he was about to hear. Rolling his eyes, Charles reached out to take his hand. “Hey, don’t give me that look, I’m not planning to break up with you. I was thinking about why she wanted to go on a date. Do you think she wants to leave us?”

“No, I don’t think so. But… I don’t know, I once overheard a conversation she had with a friend or relative, and she was trying to explain to them why she hasn’t been in a relationship for a while,” he admitted. 

As he sat on a barstool, Charles let out a thoughtful hum. “It’s a good thing you mentioned this, because my idea could actually help this issue,” he began, earning a questioning look. “Maybe it’s time to make things official for our sake.” Max shook his head, but before he could say anything, he went on. “Not us, dummy. I know we agreed to keep it a secret for a few more years. I’m talking about you and her. Just hear me out. I can be seen in her company because she’s my race engineer and we’re friends as far as people know. But you? You’re on a different team, people think we don’t like each other. So if she was dating you, you wouldn’t have to feel left out even on race weekends, and I could jump over to meet her, even if she’s with you.”

With a thoughtful hum, Max rested his forearms on the kitchen island. “That’s… actually… not a bad idea,” he said slowly. “Have you told her about this?”

“No, not yet. I was waiting for you,” came the response. 

Nodding, he moved to stand behind him and wrapped his arms around his body. “Are you sure about this?” Charles let out a confirming hum in response. “Well, if she’s on board, I say let’s do this,” he replied before placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

Max woke up to the sound of you vomiting in the bathroom. He quickly jumped out of bed to see what was up with you, and when he opened the door, he saw you sitting on the floor with tears in your eyes. With a worried look, he kneeled next to you and kissed the top of your head. “Stomach flu?” he asked you softly. But you shook your head at this, carefully avoiding his gaze. “Tell me, what’s wrong? You’re hiding something.”

“What’s going on?” came Charles’s groggy voice from the door. When Max looked over at him, he saw the way he was rubbing his eyes, but then he focused on the two of you on the floor and quickly woke up. “You okay?”

You groaned, then flushed the toilet and went to the sink to wash your face. “I’m fine,” you replied defensively. 

“What are you hiding from us?” Max pressed on, knowing you well enough to sense there was more to the story. 

A minute or two passed in tense silence while they waited for you to finally speak up. Charles moved to be by your side as support, but he was stopped right away. He meant well, but this wasn’t the time to play nice. Max wanted answers, and if he had to be harsh to get them, he was willing to do it. And his strategy worked, because you finally took a deep breath and turned around to rest your hips against the sink. 

Your eyes moved back and forth between the two of them as you said, “I’m pregnant.”

Charles gasped next to him, barely able to hide his bright smile, but Max was hesitant. You had been with them for almost a year, and you had been publicly dating him for a while too, but this? This he wasn’t expecting. It’s not that he wasn’t happy, because he was. But you looked scared and maybe even ashamed, and this was killing him. So he quickly rushed over to you to cup your face with a smile on his face. 

“Are you sure?” When you nodded, he kissed your forehead. “I love you, sweet girl.”

“You’re gonna be a great mom,” Charles added as he joined you and put his arms on your shoulders. “So… I’m gonna ask. Who’s the father?” he wondered out loud with raised eyebrows. 

Shrugging, you looked down at your hands. “I don’t know. I’m on the pill, but both of you doofuses tend to forget to use a goddamn condom, so it could be either of you,” you mumbled. 

Max looked over at his boyfriend as he bit on his lower lip, feeling guilty since they had agreed at the beginning not to do this. But based on the look on Charles’s face, he wasn’t the only one thinking about this. Of course, this was nothing new for the two of them, they had discussed their preference to fuck you raw countless times, but they never explicitly told you about this. But you weren’t stupid, you just probably loved them enough to let them do what they wanted as long as you all tested yourselves on a regular basis. 

“Are you mad at us?” Charles asked cautiously, but you just shook your head. “Then what’s wrong? I can see there’s something else you’re not telling us.”

“That’s not how you wanted to become parents,” you eventually told them. 

The sentence made Max’s heart clench, and he could tell Charles felt just the same based on the look they exchanged. They had told you about their plan to one day either use a surrogate mother or adopt a child depending on how things stood in their lives. Adoption seemed to be the winning option at the time as they couldn’t decide whose biological child should it be if they chose the surrogacy option. 

But things had changed since then, a lot of things happened and their feelings also changed. Once the Monegasque nodded, Max took a deep breath and prepared to tell you what they were both thinking about at the moment. 

“We love you. Yes, we did have different options in our heads at the time we talked about this, but now you fully belong to us. Our gorgeous and smart girlfriend is pregnant from one of us,” he said with a smile as he tipped your head to make you look at him. “It’s so much better than anything we could dream of. You should be happy now. We’re here, we love you, we’re going to support you the whole time.”

On his side, Charles let out a quiet chuckle, then kissed your temple. “You’re not getting rid of us, baby, don’t even think about it.”

note2: I just wanted a little glimpse into their lives. I don't know if I should write more about them, little snippets or text or idk.

[natslovergirl]

Cornered

Warnings: kissing, cheating, flirting

After your first kiss with Wanda, sitting on her lap as she took your breath away, you quickly pushed her off and ran out the door. You weren’t a shy girl by any means, and you knew you two were playing a dangerous game, but really? A pastors wife? Wanda Maximoff, the doting wife and volunteer everyone looks up to? You were barely a sophomore in college, kissing a woman who’s married and in her 30’s like it’s no big deal. You had no business being involved in something this scandalous.

When her lips collided with yours, it suddenly turned into a big deal…everything was a big deal. You couldn’t be letting your fun feelings go too far, and besides, you were only here for the summer. Your feelings for Wanda weren’t real, it’s just a fling. Wanda, on the other hand, felt completely different. She knew that you wouldn’t stay in town forever, but that didn’t stop her from wanting you one bit.

She got worried when you didn’t show up for your special solo that Sunday, the one she found you a pretty dress for and did your blush and- even the thought of the kiss made her cheeks grow with heat. After service she waited at a lonely table while her husband chatted it up with all the families and other guests. Wanda got used to having your company, talking and laughing and giving you light touches. Her high status as the Pastors wife surprisingly didn’t leave her with many real friends.

When she got home, the first number she called was yours, sitting on the couch with a cold glass of iced tea and waiting for you to pick up. You saw her call, took a breath, and declined it. Funny enough though, you were still wearing the dress and her makeup…you just couldn’t take it off. The doting wife called you 10 times in the span of an hour, leaving countless voicemails.

“Hi sweetheart, it’s Ms. Maximoff…it’s Wanda. Please call me.”

“Why’d you miss your solo, we worked so hard on it?”

”We should talk about earlier…it was completely unprofessional and I’m sorry, honey.” “Call me back, or meet me at my house in an hour. I’d prefer your discretion on this.”

You decided to be a mature adult and drove over to her house, anxiously knocking on the door. The beautiful woman you’d kissed just hours earlier stood there, hair shiny and soft with perfect lips and- that’s not even what you were here for. Focus. “Please come in, make yourself comfortable,” she said as she took your coat and your purse.

You two sat across from one another on two separate couches, letting uncomfortable silence stir between you two. Then, you spoke, “I just want to say I’m sorry for earlier, it should’ve never happened and I-”

“Don’t apologize, Y/N. I wanted it…I still do.” “What-what’re you saying? Wanda your husband is a pastor and you work at the church and- I don’t even know what’s going on.” “For years I’ve been able to keep my desires hidden until you, Y/N. I don’t know why but I have to have you, and I know you want me too.”

“You’re married-”

“You think my husband doesn’t have his own flings?”

She sat on your side of the couch now, a finger gently running up your knee to your thigh, sending a shiver down your spine. You wanted her so badly. You needed her touch.

“No one would have to know.” And you said yes.

That’s how you ended up with your dress ruffled, makeup a mess, hickeys on your tits, and a phone number in your pocket that said, “Call me night or day- W.”

[agaypanic]

Could you do Carlisle Cullen x wife fem!reader where she accompanied Bella to the hospital and someone tries to flirt with her and he saw what happened and got jealous even though they have been married for centuries🤭. Add something you'd like. Tag me later! Thanks.

Not Interested (Carlisle Cullen X Vampire!Wife!Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something

Summary: Hearing the news about Edward saving Bella from a rogue van, you rushed to the hospital. While trying to find your husband and family, you seem to attract some unwanted attention.

A/N: tweaked the first part of the request but that’s it. au where esme doesn’t exist

***

When you had gotten a call from Alice telling you that Edward had saved Chief Swan’s daughter and Rosalie had followed the ambulance they were in to the hospital, you knew you had to go over to play mediator. Rosalie was very clear about her stance on Edward’s infatuation with Bella and the danger that infatuation could put all of you in; it was becoming a constant topic of argument between the two. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to visit your husband.

The hospital parking lot was a bit crowded when you arrived, you felt lucky when you finally found a spot. It seemed that everyone was concerned about Bella’s well-being, even though you heard that she was very adamant about being okay.

You pushed through the small crowd to get inside and went to the receptionist’s desk.

“Hello, Mary!” You said with a polite smile. Being married to the best doctor in Forks, who worked long hours, had made you acquainted with almost everyone on the staff. “Do you know if Carlisle is busy right now?”

“He’s with a patient, but I’ll page him so he knows to come down when he’s done.” She responded with a sweet tone. You thanked her and sat in the small waiting room, grabbing a magazine off the table to flip through as you waited for your husband or one of your kids to come.

From the corner of your eye, you saw someone approaching you. Thinking it was one of your children or Carlisle, you glanced up. But it was just a stranger, so you stuck your nose back in the magazine.

“Hey.” The man said, sitting in the seat next to you. You subtly shifted away from him. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. Are you new to town?”

You were a bit surprised that he didn’t know you or recognized you, at the very least. Even though you usually stayed at home, you were well-known around the hospital and the high school. Besides, your family was a bit of a hot topic, being so pale and mysterious and keeping to yourselves. And this was a small town where everyone knew everyone.

“Nope.” You responded, trying to be polite while also conveying that you weren’t interested in talking much. “I’ve lived here for a few years.”

“Then why haven’t I seen you around?” He leaned forward, a curious smirk on his face. You did your best to hide your grimace.

“I guess we’ve never been in the same place at the same time.”

“Well, that’s a shame. Maybe we should do something to fix that.” You wanted to roll your eyes at his forwardness. To him, you were a complete stranger sitting in a hospital. For all he knew, you could be waiting to see a family member on their deathbed, and he wants to flirt. “Do you wanna maybe go get a drink?”

“I’m fine.” You replied with indifference.

“Aw, don’t be like that. I bet I could show you a good time.”

You laughed, shutting the magazine and dropping it onto the table. You could sense someone coming down the hall, and you knew exactly who it was. And you knew he was making his steps a little heavier than usual to make his presence known. 

“Believe me, I’m not interested.” By the time you were standing and looking down on the stranger, Carlisle had reached the waiting room, his gaze fixated on the two of you. You turned your head and smiled brightly. “Darling! There you are!”

You strode over to your husband and kissed him on the cheek, the faintest lip print being left on his pale cheek. You could feel the jealousy radiating off of him, but the slight snarl on his lips turned into a loving smile.

“Hello, dear.” His arm was wound firmly around your waist, the tips of his fingers skimming your hip. The hold felt possessive, like he needed to make it clear to this mystery man and anyone who passed by you that they had no chance. It was amusing to you that even after a few centuries of marriage, Carlisle still felt jealous when someone tried to win you over, even when you were blatantly uninterested. 

Speaking of the stranger, Carlisle gave him a glaring glance, and he knew it was time for him to leave. When he was out the door, Carlisle softened. 

“What are you doing down here?”

“Alice told me about the van.” You said, pursing your lips. “I had a bit of a feeling that Rosalie would come here to have a word or two with Edward about the whole thing.”

“You, my little angel, are very smart.” Carlisle smiled down at you before nodding towards the other side of the room, where two of your children were quietly hissing arguments to each other. “And they are right on time.”

You laughed a little before letting Carlisle walk you over to Rosalie and Edward to hear the full story, even though you had already gotten most of it from Alice. The entire time, Carlisle’s arm stayed around you, a constant reminder to everyone that you belonged to each other for eternity.

[steddieas-shegoes]

Mama Munson made Eddie’s Halloween costumes from scratch every year. She said it was because it looked cooler, but as he got older, he realized it was because she used scraps and cheap fabrics to make them and that’s all they could afford.

But his costumes were always great. Every year was better than the last.

When he got too old for trick or treating, she used Halloween night to teach him how to sew.

“For that jacket you wanna wear so bad, baby.”

It took a lot of effort, and a little bit of help for the thicker patches, but he managed to finish it in a few weeks.

That year for Christmas, he made her and Wayne battle jackets with their favorite bands and singers.

It became the thing he gave to important people.

Shortly after Vecna, when he was stuck in bed for nearly a month healing, he had his mom run to the store in Indy and start grabbing patches. Wayne found denim jackets from the donation store, surprised anything was left at all with how much people needed right now.

Eddie made all the kids jackets, even Max, who would probably think it was stupid in the same way she thought Lucas holding her hand was stupid (not at all).

He made Robin one, with a hidden rainbow flag patch on the inside pocket.

Nancy got one, even Argyle and Jonathan got one.

Steve didn’t.

Eddie didn’t know how to make it a friendly gesture, how to not make it look like he was screaming from the rooftops that he’d fallen hard for the guy who almost single-handedly saved his life. He was certain that giving him the jacket he made would be the end of the daily visits, the joking around, the fun.

“Baby, you think he don’t know?”

Eddie’s mama was trying not to laugh when he unloaded on her while he stitched the last patch to the front.

“He visits you every day, sometimes for hours, sometimes has to be dragged out by nurses, and ya think he don’t know?”

As usual, she had a point.

So Eddie was brave, gave Steve the jacket the next day when he stopped by.

Steve was silent as he took in every patch and pin, even the section of glitter glue Erica had insisted he add. Eddie played with his bare fingers, wishing now more than ever that he had his rings back.

Finally, Steve looked up, watery smile pointed right at Eddie.

“I love it. And you.”

Mama Munson slapped the back of his head gently later while Steve slept in the chair by his bed.

“I told ya so!” Her whisper was enough to make Steve shift around, his grip on Eddie’s hand tightening momentarily. “May have lost a nipple, but got yourself a boyfriend. That’s the Munson way.”

“What the hell do you mean?”

“Oh, Wayne never told you about losing his nipple in ‘Nam? Flirted with the medic and blamed it on blood loss, but wouldn’t ya know? The medic was a little light in his loafers, too!”

Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Wayne didn’t lose a nipple. You’re makin’ shit up again.”

“I ain’t never lied to ya! You ask Wayne tomorrow. There’s a reason he don’t ever go shirtless at the lake.”

And sure enough, the next day, Wayne lifted his shirt and showed Eddie where he had nothing but a scar where his nipple should be.

“So what about the medic?”

“Oh! Grant.” Wayne smiled. “We still write to each other sometimes. He’s married, got a few kids.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. We wouldn’t have worked anyway. He lives in Maine. Can’t imagine dealin’ with moose.”

Mama Munson just raised her brows from her chair and smirked.

When Steve came by after his shift, he was wearing his jacket and the biggest smile Eddie’s ever seen.

“Anything new?”

“Nothin’ really. Just found out I’ve got a lot more in common with Wayne than I thought.”

[misspygmypie]

His Little Hero

Part of the "Meet & Greet... and more?" Universe Pairing: Lando Norris x Noah, Lando Norris x reader Words: 1324 Request: I love Noah and Lando ❤️ Can we please have some of Noah telling Lando that someone was flirting with his mum at the store and he was scaring the man away saying his dad will run him over. And Lando just being proud. Masterlist

Please do not repost, thank you, and leave some feedback :)

Noah burst into the living room, his excitement practically radiating from him. Lando, sprawled on the couch next to his wife Y/N, looked up from his phone. His eyes tracked Noah’s energetic entrance, his face lighting up with a mix of concern and interest.

“Dad, Dad!” Noah shouted, tugging at Lando’s sleeve with an urgency that only a seven-year-old could muster. “You won’t believe what happened at the grocery store today!”

Lando set his phone aside, his attention fully captured by his son’s animated demeanor. “What happened, buddy? Spill it!”

Noah’s face was lit up when he started to tell the story to his dad. “So, we were in the cereal aisle and this man came up to mommy and started saying she looked like a movie star. He kept smiling at her and saying how pretty she was, like she was a treasure or something.”

“Oh, did he now?” Lando’s gaze shifted from Noah to Y/N. He studied her reactions closely, his eyes wide open. His lips were pressed together in a tight line while Y/N’s cheeks turned a deep shade of pink and she exchanged a quick, almost apologetic glance with Lando. She looked slightly uncomfortable, trying to keep her composure. 

“What did mommy do?” Lando asked, focusing back onto Noah, trying to sound casual but feeling a sense of jealousy bubble up.

Noah continued, clearly invested in his tale. “Mom smiled and said thank you but she was really focused on finding the cereal with the toy inside. You know how important that is, right? We had to get the cereal with the toy! I kept telling mommy it was the best part of shopping. I was so excited because last time I got a cool dinosaur but this time I really wanted the robot I saw in the ad.”

Meanwhile Lando’s fingers drummed on the armrest of the couch, his impatience growing. “What happened next?” he asked, trying to mask his irritation.

Noah’s eyes widened as he leaned in closer, clearly enjoying the storytelling. “So, mommy and I were scanning all the shelves and I was looking at every single box. I kept pointing out boxes and saying, ‘Maybe this one has the toy!’ I was so pumped because even though the dinosaur was cool I just really, really wanted the robot. I even saw it on the box and I thought, ‘That’s going to be the best toy ever!’”

Lando shifted in his seat, his agitation evident. “And then?”

“Well,” Noah’s expression grew even more intense, “this guy just kept talking to mommy. He was saying stuff like, ‘You’ve got the kind of smile that lights up a movie screen,’ and ‘You should be in the spotlight.’ Mom was trying to pick out the right cereal but he just wouldn’t stop. He even blocked the aisle while we were trying to get to the cereal and every time I saw a box, I’d say, ‘Is this the one?’”

Lando leaned forward, his gaze fixed on Noah with a mix of jealousy and intense interest. His lips twitched and he seemed to be wrestling with a mix of frustration and amusement. “And what happened then?” he asked, wishing Noah would just tell him more about the guy.

“So, I saw mommy give me that look, the one that says she needs help. She was still trying to find the cereal with the toy and this guy just wouldn’t leave her alone. I knew I had to do something.”

Noah continued, clearly excited to share more. “And then, I kept thinking about how the robot toy was supposed to be really cool. I remembered the ad and how it could do all these awesome things, like light up and move its arms. I wanted to make sure mommy got the cereal with the toy because it was so cool. I even told her, ‘We have to find the cereal with the robot, mom! It’s going to be the best!’”

Lando’s eyes narrowed and he took a deep breath. “Okay, but what happened with the guy?” he asked, his voice frustrated and intrigued.

Noah’s eyes gleamed as he recounted his brave act. “I walked up to the guy and said, ‘You’d better leave my mom alone! My dad’s a race car driver and if you don’t stop bothering her he’ll run you over with his car!’”

At that moment Lando’s composure completely shattered. He burst into uncontrollable laughter, his shoulders shaking and his howling echoed through the room, a mix of surprise, delight and something else, perhaps a touch of envy. He looked at Y/N, whose eyes were twinkling with pride and then back at Noah, who was beaming with triumph.

“What did the guy do then?” Lando gasped between laughs.

Noah grinned widely. “He looked really shocked, like he’d just seen a ghost or something. He started backing away really quickly and said he didn’t mean to cause any trouble. He practically sprinted out of the aisle! And then we finally found the cereal with the robot toy. It was exactly like the ad showed! It could light up and even move its arms a little bit. I was so happy!”

Y/N moved to wrap her arms around Noah in a proud hug, trying to contain her own laughter. “You were so brave, sweetie. Thank you for looking out for me.”

Lando, still chuckling, pulled Noah onto his lap and continued to laugh. “I’ve got to say, Noah, that’s one of the funniest things I’ve heard in a while.”

Noah’s eyes sparkled with pride. “Thanks, Dad! I just wanted everyone to know mommy’s special and protected. And the robot toy was awesome, too!”

Lando’s laughter gradually faded into a warm, affectionate giggle. “You know, Noah, I’m really happy to see how you’ve taken on the role of protecting the family. It’s nice to know that while I’m away I don’t have to worry about mommy being alone. You’ve got everything under control.”

“Yeah and I’ll make sure no one bothers mom, especially not if you’re not around, daddy!”

Lando’s smile grew wider as he looked at both his wife and their son. “You know what, Noah? I’d really love to see that robot you got. Can you show it to me?”

Noah’s eyes lit up instantly. “Oh, sure! It’s in my room. I’ll go get it!”

With that he dashed off toward his room. Lando’s jealousy had faded, replaced by a huge feeling of pride and admiration for his son. 

As Noah bounded back into the living room, clutching the robot toy in his small hand, Lando’s heart swelled with pride. The little robot, now a symbol of his son’s bravery and quick thinking, was held aloft like a trophy.

Lando leaned forward, making an effort to be genuinely interested in the toy. “Wow, Noah! That robot is even cooler than I imagined!” He reached out, carefully taking it from Noah’s hands and examining it with a childlike curiosity. “You know, this is one impressive robot.”

Noah nodded vigorously, his face flushed with happiness. “Yeah, Dad! It can light up and move its arms. It’s the best one I’ve ever seen!”

“I’ve got to tell you something,” Lando said, his voice softening as he looked at Noah with unmasked pride. “I’m so proud of you. Not just because you found the coolest robot ever but because you stood up for your mom like that.”

Noah’s cheeks flushed. “Thanks, Dad. I just wanted to make sure mom was okay. And I wanted the robot, too!”

Lando chuckled, pulling Noah into a tight hug. “Well, you’ve done an amazing job on both fronts. I’m really proud of you for taking care of mom and for being so brave. You’re my little hero.”

Noah beamed, hugging his dad back with equal enthusiasm. “I’m glad you think so, daddy and next time, if anyone tries to bother mom, we’ll both take care of it together.”

________

AN: The way I am obsessed with this request!!! THANK YOU! Anon, I hope you like it and if not let me know and I can rewrite 😊🫶

Taglist: @eloriis @pacifierbby @landossainz @littlegrapejuice @barcelonaloverf1life @poppyflower-22 @itsjustfranzi @vickykazuya

[jeneveuxrein]

attention (TWICE Nayeon)

word count: 6.1K

(she's been on my radar since the killing voice medley, and well, yeah, enjoy!)

-- -- -- 

You’re seething, forcing the amber liquid down, watching the people mingle. You should introduce yourself to some because networking at events like this always gives you the chance to meet the next up and coming. 

But not tonight. 

You don’t even want to be here. You weren’t on the original guest list, but with last minute changes and someone’s wife suddenly going into labor, your boss forced you to attend. 

Maybe the proper term is chaperone. 

All you wanted to do tonight was spend some time with this woman you’ve been casually seeing. Nothing serious, nothing committal, just dinner and drinks that had the potential of ending together in a bed. You had been dragging it out, and you think it’s warranted. She makes it obvious she’s interested.

But with how this evening was looking, you’ll be spending the night with someone else. 

That someone is across the room, draped over some man you’re more than likely going to have to do damage control. She’s an idol after all, and rumors will spread like a wildfire about her being linked to someone who’s nowhere near her caliber. 

She catches you staring, sending a sly smirk as she leans into whatever-his-face is saying. A little too close for the company’s taste and a shit ton too much for your sake.

“Dear fuck,” You mumble, shaking your head before standing. 

You don’t know what compels you to walk through the crowd, nodding politely at those that wave, but there you are, less than a meter away from where she’s seated. 

“Nayeon,” You say coolly. The man quickly separates himself, going as far away from the woman in question. “Time to go. You have an early day tomorrow.”

Nayeon tilts her head, a questioning glint in her eye because she, out of all of the members, knows her schedule. She has nothing for tomorrow, except maybe rest and recovery because this is her fault you’re here. 

Well, maybe you should backtrack. It’s technically your fault because if you hadn’t mentioned to Sana and Momo the plans you originally had, you wouldn’t be at some event against your will. It was an innocent question on how you were going to spend the weekend, the only mistake was that you said too much that they went running to their unnie. 

“Okay,” Nayeon says slowly, standing before bidding farewell to the people at the table. You wait for her, obviously, because that’s what you’re supposed to do. “Shall we?” She asks as she turns to face you. 

You nod, stepping side before bowing politely. You’ll have to send a message to the media team to stop any photos releasing of Nayeon and the man, but that could wait. There were more pressing matters that needed your attention. 

It isn’t until you’re inside your car that she says something that ticks you off, “So no date with Suji-unnie tonight?”

You shake your head, composing yourself because it’s a question she knows the answer to. “Nope, duty calls. Had to be here.”

“How unfortunate,” Nayeon says casually as if she had no part in how your night turned out, slouching in the passenger seat as you shift the car into drive. “Yours or mine? ” She asks, looking out the window. Adding, “Momo’s in Japan.”

“Mine,” You answer simply, turning onto the street. 

-- -- 

You should’ve seen it coming, but you let it happen. 

The company and management would have you barred from working with anyone in the industry if they ever found out. You reasoned that was why by the time things unfolded, it was out of your control. 

How it started was subtle, nothing too out of the ordinary to draw attention to her mostly. She flirted with you, commenting on your outfits about how it looked good on you and you, being you, would return the sentiment. It wasn’t anything explicit, just a polite acknowledgement of her looking great, something she heard daily from the girls and other people on the team. 

She lingered to walk with you whether it was crowded or not, it didn’t matter. She was right by your side, and the times where fans were around, she’d be especially close that you had no other choice to wrap your arm around her, shielding her from people who desperately wanted her attention. You missed the snickers from the girls, rolling their eyes because they knew what she was up to, while you were just doing your job. 

Then she texted you on free days, asking if you wanted to do something. Anything from getting food at hole-in-the-wall restaurants she learned about from Chaeyoung to intimate concerts of artists in the industry. You tried to decline, advising her to go with one of the female managers so it wouldn’t look suspicious to the public eye, but she was adamant about going with you. Some of the girls would join from time to time, but the majority of the time, it was just you two.

Again, you thought nothing of it. You were the closest to her, so no one batted an eye when she put in the group chat when something was planned. 

That was just how your relationship was with her for five years since the group debuted. 

Until one night.

You were working late, going over the travel plans for the girls’ encore tour, tucked away in your office. A short four-city stint in the United States that would be a bit of a hustle for them, but you knew they could do it. 

There were a soft two knocks, scaring you because you thought everyone had already left. You remembered the way you said come in, raspy and tired, when the door opened slightly, the half of Nayeon’s face peeking through the crevice. 

You smiled immediately, sitting straight, nodding as she stepped inside. You took note of her outfit. Something comfortable since they had dance rehearsals for the better part of the day, dark sweats and a heather grey cropped hoodie that showed a sliver of her skin, peeking from underneath. 

You watched Nayeon grow into a beautiful woman. Sexy too, but you slapped yourself every single time you thought of her like that. There had to be some professional line drawn somewhere. Although it seemed that metaphorical line had been blurred, crossed, over the past few months. 

She was more affectionate, playing with your fingers in the car, gently touching your arm wherever you walked. She pressed into your side more, even when there were no people around. She hugged you a bit longer than the others, not like you were counting the seconds. 

You stood to meet her on the couch, asking if she was alright since she was vocal earlier in the day she wanted to go home to sleep. She explained that she had finished practicing with the dance instructor. You admired how hard she worked, which for what it was worth, you thought she did well during rehearsals. 

“And I saw your office light on as I was leaving, thought I’d say goodbye,” Nayeon rested her head on your outstretched arm. It wasn’t out of the norm, something she did quite frequently in front of everyone. 

“You should rest,” You urged, softly squeezing her shoulder as she snuggled into you. “You did great today.”

Nayeon looked up at you, gaze briefly shifting to your lips before meeting your eyes, “Really?” 

You hadn’t realized it before, but as she stared at you, you could see how much she needed the affirmation, the reassurance, the praise, from you. 

You cleared your throat, looking away because it suddenly felt hot in your office. With Nayeon this close, her perfume faint, it had you dizzy. You mumbled a shy yeah. 

You knew the moment her hand touched your thigh, it was over. Everything you worked for, investing time and resources to make sure the girls you managed were successful, would be tossed down the drain because the undeniable tension that had been building over the past however long at this point broke.

The thing was, you didn’t know about it until that moment. 

You weren’t sure who kissed who first, and it didn’t matter. All you knew was she was on top, your arms pulling her closer as your lips met in a heated kiss, swallowing each other’s moans. 

Something clicked inside of you, like this was always supposed to happen. Every message, every call, every playful push, every stolen glance, every single thing led to this. 

“Nayeon,” You tore yourself apart, hyper aware of the small whine leaving her mouth as you tried to get some grip on the situation. “What’re we doing? We can’t do this.” 

Her eyes narrowed, glaring, and you knew that whatever resolve you had would be taken from you by her whether you liked it or not. She was never one to be challenged, always exceeding whatever expectation was placed on her. 

“And why not?” Her voice was steady, but her body was not. She dropped to her knees in between your legs. All the thoughts you pushed deep down inside you came rushing to the surface, dismantling the walls you put up for her to break it so easily. “You don’t think I’m pretty?” Her hands were on the waistband of your slacks, trailing along, stopping when she reached the button. 

You didn’t have the words, no sentence to form as she slowly, oh so slowly, pulled the zipper down. You nearly choked once she placed her hand over your cock, palming with the softest pressure. 

“Your body seems to think so,” She teased, slipping her hand underneath the fabric, wrapping around your cock. 

That very thin thread of control you snapped, leaning forward to pull back onto your lap. “That’s a lot to assume,” You quipped, hands gripping her waist firmly. 

“Really?” She rolled her hips over you, catching the smirk on her face as your eyes closed. “I think that you’ve always wanted me as much as I wanted you, which I—”

Impulsively, you brought your lips to hers, a searing kiss that she met with the same enthusiasm. You murmured a shut up before nipping her bottom lip, sucking lightly that her body shuddered against you. 

You didn’t remember much else from that night. 

That was a lie because that was the night she confessed it all. It didn’t help that she somehow slipped all her clothes off and she sunk your cock inside one smooth motion, testing your control once again because you could’ve exploded the moment you felt her warmth wrapped around you.

You remembered it vividly, clearly, as you watched her move on top of you. It was slow, intentional with every drop of her body, like she was showing you what you had been missing. It was hot, tight, and you couldn’t stop the whimper out of your mouth when she started whispering things—nasty, filthy things that you would have never guessed were in her vocabulary. 

Nayeon bit your ear lobe, murmuring how good you felt, how she got so wet whenever she saw you. The soft moan she let out. The dazed, lust-filled expression with each roll of her hips. You couldn’t stop the noises you made, the groans, the grunts, the fuck every time her pussy tightened. 

There was a brief sense of clarity when your stomach tightened, signaling you were close. You couldn’t exactly cum inside her because one, you stupidly (blindly) forgot to put a condom on, and two, you didn’t keep track of her health records (that wasn’t one of your responsibilities among everything else), so getting an idol pregnant wasn’t exactly on your list. 

She knew you were close the second your hips thrusted up, stealing a breathy moan. You were content lifting her off you to cum anywhere else that wasn’t inside her.

However, Nayeon was not. 

She made it perfectly clear when she wrapped her arms around your neck, pulling you against her as she quickened her pace. You tried, maybe not that much, to get her off you before you met your impending end, but it was futile when she kissed your cheek, affectionately, lovingly, hot breath against your skin that she wanted you to claim her in a way no one else ever had. 

Air left your lungs as you came, releasing a lot inside of her, causing her own orgasm that felt like yours went on forever. She muffled her scream, biting into your neck as her body trembled. 

You wanted to believe it was a one-time thing, a mishap, a lapse in judgment because it was still your fucking job on the line. 

It was not a one-time thing. You couldn’t even count it as a two-time thing, or three, or four. It just kept happening. You couldn’t exactly avoid her, you literally worked for her. 

No one would think you favored her because they all knew you did, but they understood why. No one could stop Nayeon from being near you because she would throw a fit. Any crisis she had, you were the main point of contact because she only listened to you. 

Even if you had some kind of control over her, she had the most control over you. 

Then after some time of figuring out how you and Nayeon could keep whatever this under wraps—nothing was ‘figured out’ as you wouldn’t really be talking if you were alone together—a mutual colleague introduced you to Bae Suji.

-- 

You went on one date with Suji, or Suzy, as she sometimes preferred. How any of the girls found out was beyond you, but if you had to wager, it would’ve been Jeongyeon or Sana (Nayeon later did say it was the latter because her friend saw you).

It didn’t matter who found out because managers are allowed to have lives outside of their work, but this particular part of your life wouldn’t be allowed by the woman you spent a good chunk of time with, on- and off-the-clock. 

To say Nayeon was upset would be an understatement. Sure, she was upset, but she was livid. You didn’t see her that night, but she was at your door the next morning. She did what she always did, easily seducing you before demanding an explanation while you were deep inside her. 

It wasn’t healthy by any means, but it’s not like either of you cared. It was toxic at best, but it was debauchery at its absolute worst, using sex as a loaded gun to get whatever you wanted from each other. 

“You know we can’t keep doing this,” You grunted as you thrusted inside her, pausing as her pussy tightened. 

“Yet here you fucking are, still balls deep inside of me,” Nayeon said lowly, tugging you so you towered over her. “You aren’t fucking her so why did you even go out with her?”

You didn’t bother responding, instead you wrapped a firm hand around her neck, squeezing enough to shut her up because at that point, she was pissing you off. 

You would admit that that morning was the first time you let her get the best of you. You typically weren’t aggressive with her. You might’ve been rough less than a handful of times, but never like that.

What you couldn’t predict was how she’d react. She could have done anything. Hit you. Slap you. Push you off. 

She didn’t. 

It spurred her on more than anything. By the way her pussy tightened. By the way it felt wetter. By the way she tried to make a sound, but couldn’t because of the hold around her.

Your hand relaxed, listening to her violently gasp as the air entered her body. You broke for a moment, searching for any sign of discomfort, uneasiness, because at the end of the day—you wouldn’t admit this to her—you loved her. You were in love with her, stupidly falling for her whether you wanted to or not. You believed she felt the same, but those kinds of things weren’t a topic of discussion. 

“Baby,” You whispered, still buried inside of her, but you weren’t moving. “I’m sor—”

Nayeon shook her head, sitting up as you hissed once the cool air hit your cock. She gave you a quick peck before turning onto her stomach, arching her back. Pushing herself up on her hands, she shook her hips side to side, head slightly turned, “Fuck me, daddy.”

A new kink was unlocked that night among a myriad of emotions you weren’t prepared for. One thing you were prepared for was to fuck her like you owned her. 

Maybe you did, but she owned you too. 

-- -- 

You open your front door, stepping aside for Nayeon to walk through. Tossing the keys on the side table, the door shuts as you take off your shoes. She’s right next to you, arms crossed behind her back, leaning against the wall. She’s waiting for the reaction you give whenever she pisses you off. She does what she does to rile you up, if that isn’t obvious. 

You sigh, shaking your head, standing in front of Nayeon. Her eyes look up, but your gentle hand cups her chin, tilting her head back. When you meet her gaze, there’s something off with her. 

You can read her like a book, very familiar with her moods. Though, this time, you see—and feel—the walls up, something unfamiliar to you. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask softly, searching her face for anything to give her away. Her expression remains neutral, shrugging indifferently. “Something’s wrong.” 

Nayeon pulls away, averting her gaze, “Nothing’s wrong.” Pause. “So are we going to fuck or what? Isn’t that why we’re here?” 

“Not with that attitude,” You say sternly, reaching for her arms behind her back. You bring them around, struggling a bit. “What the fuck is your problem?” 

“There is no fucking problem. If you want to talk about thoughts and feelings, I’m going to pass,” She breaks away, and you let her. “I’ll call Jihyo or Jeongyeon to pick me up.” She turns to walk away, but you reach out quickly, hand wrapping onto her forearm to pull her back. 

Nayeon lets out a small oomph against your chest, glaring at you, unbothered by her attitude (you’ve dealt with worse), ���Tell me what the fuck is wrong right now.”

“Or what?” Nayeon huffs, hands on your chest in a feeble attempt to get away from you. 

The movement brings your bodies closer, and accidentally, maybe purposely, she grounds her pelvis against you. It’s with the lightest pressure, but it’s enough for your cock to stir, awakening from her heated stare. You notice the way her breath hitches, body shivering as you pull her closer. 

“Brat,” You murmur, dropping your head to capture her lips with your teeth. She moans softly when you start sucking. Her hands move to interlace behind your neck. You didn’t want to use sex to get it out of her, but she’s being defiant. “Do you get off on making me mad?” 

“Not intentionally, of course.” You feel her smile form, the upward curve of her lips as you slide your tongue in. She sighs dreamily into the kiss, dropping her weight to lean against the wall. You fall into her, practically pinning her. “Is someone going to put me in my place?” 

It’s a rhetorical question because there has only been one person to put her in her place. 

You. 

This evening could have played out in two ways. The first, being the doting lover you’re familiar with, praising her softly like a secret only between you and her, taking your time to draw out every moan and sigh against your lips. The second, the one you’re leaning towards, being the indifferent, apathetic lover, uncaring of if she cums, fucking her until she begs for you, pussy deliciously tight to force you to breed her, claim her, because she’s yours. 

“Why not that tool you were all over at the party?” The question catches her off guard, body tensing at the thought that you caught her. She wanted you to catch her though, she has always wanted to be wanted by you. “You knew I was watching across the room,” Pulling away as you tower over her.

“It wasn’t like that,” Nayeon rushes out, the excuse you’ve heard multiple times before. The false panic in her eyes means she knew exactly what she was doing to get a reaction out of you. “We were just talking.” 

“I don’t believe that,” You click your tongue, the image of her with someone else like that sparks a possessive desire. “That wasn’t very good of you, baby.” Void of any affection associated with the pet name. Under the dim light of your hallway, you see her eyes dilate and her breathing picks up. She wants you and fuck do you want her too. “Room. Now.” 

Nayeon nods obediently. You reward her with a soft, chaste kiss. She tries her best to keep your lips together, but you tap her hip twice and she pulls away. “Daddy.” She whines, pouting in hopes it’ll get her more than you’re giving. You thought she’d last longer before using her nickname for you. 

“Don’t be a brat,” Your eyes narrow, challenging her because if she wants to act out even more, you’d just have to punish her. “Go to the room now.” Nayeon’s eyes widen at your tone, nodding once before walking down the hallway. 

You tilt your head side-to-side, stretching the muscles before making a quick stop in the kitchen. You know you’ll both be exhausted whenever you finish, so you might as well at least have water nearby. You’ll find the energy to make her food in the morning, or there’s always takeaway. With two water bottles in hand, you kick your room door open to Nayeon perched on the edge of your bed, topless, only leaving her red lace bottoms, dress tossed haphazardly on the chair. 

“For later, okay?” Momentarily breaking out of character because you still care for her, and her well-being will always be your top priority. She sends you a grateful smile before you place the bottles on the dresser. When you meet her on the bed, she moves to swing her leg over yours, but you shake your head. “Not yet, baby. You weren’t very good back there.” 

“But, but,” Nayeon’s voice trembles, biting her lip. “I didn’t mean it!” 

“Then why did you act out? Do I not give you what you want?” You gently push Nayeon off to her original position. 

“You do!” She says desperately, nodding her head. 

“Then why? Why him?” You taunt, deciding how far you want to go with her tonight. Something’s still wrong, and you need to know what. You want the reason, the confession, because she doesn’t keep secrets from you. You see the wheels turning, unsure if whatever she has to say would matter. It does matter to you. “So what is it?” 

“Because I wanted your attention,” Nayeon confesses before she jumps on you, landing perfectly on your already hard cock. She moans at the contact, grinding slightly before your hands find themselves on her hips, guiding her movement. “I wanted you to remind me who I belong to.” 

“And who’s that?” You say lazily, tongue trailing against her lower lip before dipping inside, swirling that she grounds harder. 

“You,” Voice dropping low, seductively adding, “Daddy.” 

You have to still make her pay her retribution. She’s almost there, telling you the real reason, and you’ll get it out of her. You easily lift her body off yours, smirking at the whine and huff when you pull away as you lay her on your stomach against your lap. “I still have to punish you, baby.” You rest your hand on her back, ghosting over her skin until you reach her low back. 

“But daddy,” Nayeon huffs, raising her hips in a feeble attempt to get your hand where she wants. “It didn’t mean anything,” She repeats, squirming on your lap. 

Your hand goes lower, hovering over her buttcheek, “It meant something to me,” You say pensively. Curious, prodding, “Is that why you wanted me to fill in instead of Seoyeon-unnie? You didn’t want me to go on my date.”

You don’t hear a response. You swiftly bring your hand down to her bottom, a resounding smack echoes through the room. “Well?” 

Silence again, which would result in another slap to the other cheek. She muffled a moan into the bedsheets, refusing to budge. 

Bingo. 

Her pride is her biggest downfall, ego constantly needing to be stroked. She loves the attention and adoration from fans, thriving off the praise, knowing that it’s all for her. She would rather suffer through the pain than have to admit she was jealous. 

The center of attention, the one in the limelight, spotlight shining on her and only her. She craves that from you, to be the center of your world, but ever since Suji came into the picture, she’s scared that there might be someone else, crashing like a meteor on unstable ground she’s never had. 

You continue with the slaps, easing the sting with light rubs. You know she’s soaked, the small dark circle forming on her underwear. You’re not faring any better, cock tenting against the fabric. 

After the seventh hit, Nayeon moans, body shaking wantonly in frustration. “Fuck fuck, please, please.”

“Tell me the truth.” Coercion isn’t the best method, manipulative by any definition, but you had no other choice. 

“Fine, fine.” You relent, hand halting mid-air. “I didn’t want you to go. You’re supposed to be mine,” She cries, breath uneven as she tries to compose herself. 

Your hand drops. Her body flinches when she feels it against her skin, but continues to wait, anticipating your next move. Your chest squeezes at the confession because she’s never been this vulnerable, open, willing to express her feelings for you.

You give in, to her, to this, the urge to suddenly show her who owns you becomes too great. You pull her up, laying her on the bed as you fall in between her legs. 

“Baby,” You murmur, leaning forward to brush your lips against her ear, “You’re being so good. I am yours,” Her body shivers, hips rolling up into nothing as she seeks some kind of friction. “I’m yours,” You repeat like a mantra, a reminder of what you’ve always said. “You deserve a reward, okay?” 

Nayeon shakes her head, eyes shooting open, wild with want and desire. “I can’t wait, daddy.” She reaches for your shirt, ripping the buttons, before stopping at your belt. “Inside me, please. I need to feel you.” 

You do nothing to stop her, hands swiftly moving to unbuckle your belt and slipping your cock out of your briefs. You groan when she wraps around your length, stroking lightly. She aims the tip at her opening, against the lace, uncontrollably moaning and panting. 

“Go ahead,” You goad, eyes fixated on your cock rubbing over her. The wetness seeps on you, mouth watering at the sight. You watch as she moves her underwear to the side, lining up your cock perfectly, the warmth and wetness surrounding you has you seeing stars. 

“I’m so wet, daddy,” Nayeon moans loudly, scooting closer to take more of you in. “All for you—fuck.” 

You couldn’t help yourself. She felt too good, too wet, and the tightness suffocates you the second you snap your hips forward, burying your cock to the hilt inside her. The sudden stretch has her head snapping back, screaming into the air. 

“You’re such a slut, always ready for my cock,” You choke out, hands settling on her hips before drawing backwards. Her body squirms, chasing after the sensation of being filled. “So needy tonight, baby.”

“Please, please,” Nayeon begs, doing everything she can to get all of you back inside her. She wants you, wants you so no one else can have you, desperate for the feeling you give her. She thrusts her hips down, sucking you in unexpectedly, that you nearly collapse on top of her. Her arms wrap around you, nails digging into your skin when your length rubs along her walls. “Fuck me. You own me.”

“Mine?” You’re able to catch a breath, holding on to the control you’re trying to keep. 

“Yours.” 

It snaps, breaking the moment she says the word, possessing you to pull back before sliding back in. You lose yourself inside her, each moan and breathy sigh, as you set a steady pace. It’s a beautiful sensation for Nayeon’s pussy hugging your cock perfectly, warm, wet, tight—just for you. 

Her nails trail down, scratching your back enough that you’ll see the damage later. The pain turns you on, snapping your hips, driving your cock through. You nearly falter when your eyes meet hers. It’s akin to love, a word that has been dangerously sitting on the tip of your tongue these past few months. 

“I—fuck,” You stutter out. You can’t tell her how you feel. You can’t. You shouldn’t. You won’t. 

“I love you.” 

You swear you misheard her. The three words forming the sentence that has you over the moon. She says it again, softly, affectionately, because she means it. 

“You love me?” You cease your movements, cock bottoming out inside of her. The snugness of her pussy warms your cock as you wait. She doesn’t hesitate, saying it again and again before pulling your lips to hers. 

“I love you,” Nayeon mumbles, tongue running along your bottom lip. 

“Fuck,” You pull away, hips drawing back before flipping her body over. She raises her hips, the beautiful arch in her back. You tear the lacy garment off, making a silent promise you’ll buy her another later. You’ll buy her whatever she wants. “I love you,” You whisper before sinking in, missing the way her eyes roll back. 

You couldn’t control what happened next as the words triggered her orgasm. Her pussy pulls you in, suffocating you so you wouldn’t leave—not like you had anywhere to go. You’d lose yourself inside her ten times out of ten. 

“Fuck daddy, I’m cumming,” Nayeon screams, panting as her body shudders, pussy tightening and relaxing rhythmically as you groan. You feel the wetness coat your upper thighs, guttural moaning against her hair. “Come inside me, please. I’m yours, yours, oh shit—”

Your stomach tightens, snapping at the way her ass cheeks ripple against your pelvis, moving uncontrollably as she coaxes your orgasm. Your hands grip her muscles, hips erratically thrusting into her as your release floods her, painting every crevice inside her. 

Nayeon leans her head back, enough for you to kiss her forehead. Her hands find yours, interlacing them sweetly as you both try to catch your breath. 

You’re still hard, and you’re feeling particularly giving. She can handle whatever you throw at you, so you gently remove one of your hands from hers, trailing slowly to the apex of her thighs. Her breathing hitches, “What’re you doing?” 

“Another,” You command as you rub through her folds, finding her clit. 

“Wait—wait shit,” The contact catches her by surprise, her body folding forward as you continue your onslaught. 

“Good girl,” You murmur, watching as her hips move in slow figure eights with your cock still inside. Her pussy constricts, finding every angle to hit her favorite spot. And when she does, she mewls and pants. “You feel so fucking good, baby.”

Nayeon turns her head, locking eyes with you as she moves faster along your length. Your fingers aren’t idle, applying heavy pressure that has her going crazy, unsure with what to do with the pleasure flowing through her body. You mouth cum and flicking like a switch, she gushes all over you, forcing you to leave her warmth. 

“Fuck daddy,” Nayeon screams, voice hoarse as you watch her body convulse, back arching and flexing as she squirts more fluid than you’d ever seen. “I need you, please. Something, anything—oh shit!” Your fingers enter her swiftly, massaging her inner muscles as it just gets wetter, drenching your skin and bedsheets. 

“Tell me who owns this pussy,” You say lowly, eyes fixated on the way her butt muscles ripple with every movement of your fingers. 

“You,” She repeats your name over and over, pussy sucking you as she tightens deliciously around them. “God, fuck, you, sir, only you.” 

You replace your fingers with your cock, aiming at her opening before sinking in once again. Her fingers ball into fists, wrinkling the bed sheets as you nearly go feral on her body. She could take it. She wants you like this, crazy, addicted, in love that no one else could fuck her. She needs to feel how much you want her. She only needs you.

“So easy,” You swing a hand back, slapping each cheek with precision. “All you need is my cock, right?” 

“Yes, yes, only yours daddy,” Nayeon nods, easily agreeing to whatever you say. You could call her every name in the book, and she’d comply. She’s your little fucktoy that gets your cock stuffed inside her whenever you want.

You lose it once Nayeon lets out a high-pitched squeal. The orgasm crashes through your body, hips stuttering forcefully into hers as you fill her again, unabashedly rolling your hips to hear her breath staccato. 

Every nerve on your body buzzes, stimulated by Nayeon’s walls pulsing to milk you for all that you have. It hits overstimulation, sucking the breath from you as you regretfully pull out. She whines at the loss of contact, but you lean forward, sweetly kissing her buttcheek, nipping at the skin that she squirms. 

“Ticklish?” You tease, voice light and relaxed. The exhaustion slowly sets in your bones. 

“You know I am,” Nayeon huffs, hips dropping, limbs spread limply. 

You’re still a sick human, and you want to see the result of your activities. You nudge Nayeon’s leg, easily responsive as they spread a little. You bite your tongue at the sight of your essence dribbling out of her swollen lips. It’s hot, filthy to see you all over her. You wish you had a phone nearby to snapshot this into memory, but your mind drifts off to recreating it at a later date.

You yawn, collapsing next to her that she scoots to snuggle into your side. You fight to keep your eyes open because you still have to clean up. Nayeon mumbles something into your skin. You don’t quite catch what she says, softly asking her to repeat it, and you freeze. 

“I love you.”

It’s a finicky thing, this thing between you and Nayeon. Somewhere along the way, you fell for her. Maybe you knew the moment you met her, or maybe you knew that you would at some point in time. Or maybe you knew the night she walked into your office because by then, it had built up between you that that was the final piece of the puzzle to confirm what you’ve known. 

The hormones flow between you, and you can’t help but think that’s the only reason why. You’re an idiot too, “Are you just saying that?” Nayeon’s hand presses into your chest. You open your eyes to her peering over you, hair an unruly mess, “What?”

Nose scrunching, Nayeon rolls her eyes, “You seriously believe I’d throw that around so easily?”

You don’t, but this was Nayeon. You may have been sleeping with her for a while, but you’ve heard the girls talk about their flings. You could almost guarantee that she’s only been sleeping with you, but they know how to hide things. 

“Stupid,” Nayeon shakes her head when you ask again. “Did you just say it?”

You did. You do. It’s not just the hormones causing you to act like such a love struck idiot. You weigh the situation, knowing that whatever answer you give will change your relationship. It won’t be an illicit affair between an idol and her manager. It’ll be hard because you’d still have to keep it a secret, unless you changed companies, something you’d be willing to do. 

“No,” You send an easy smile, “I love you. I’m in love with you.” 

Nayeon’s face lights up, beaming with all her teeth showing, eyes crinkling in the corners. She kisses you, softly, tenderly, a contrast to how you were no less than five minutes ago. 

“I love you,” Nayeon says quietly, an unspoken vow passed between you. She understands what this means, being together for real, that there will be hardships, but she’ll do them with you. 

You sigh contentedly against her lips, whispering those same three words, full of intent and promise. 

“No more dates with Suji-unnie,” Nayeon sing-songs, confident after pecking you on the lips, smug at accomplishing her mission of making you hers. 

-- -- -- 

(pardon any mistakes or typos, lol)

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request headcanons for Remy with shy gn s/o please?

Remy loves how shy you get whenever he does near enough anything.

Your flustered and cute responses to his affection only made Remy want to smother and flirt with you all the more than he already did! You were far too sweet for many but to him you were just sweet enough that it should be forbidden.

He’d kiss the back of your hand, guide you by the small of your back through crowed areas, press tender kisses against the side of you head just to see that sweet, timid smile of yours that you always made before looking away from him to calm your reaching heart.

It was Remy’s favourite part of being with you is knowing that your reactions were genuine, not an ounce of emotion you’ve shown him was fake or fabricated. You may hate it but Remy loved it more than ever as it meant he could tell the effect he had on you no matter what.

‘Good morning mom Cherie.’ He said while pressing a kiss to your cheek as you smiled sheepishly at him. It fills with nothing but warmth and a sensation that felt as though he had butterflies in his stomach.

‘Good morning Remy.’ You reply and he couldn’t help but steal a kiss from your lips, causing you to squeak in surprise.

‘Remy.’ You whined, ‘we talked about you surprising me with affection and how it gets me.’

‘I know and I’m sorry mom Cher but you are just the sweetest thing alive that I just wanna eat you up.’ Remy replied as he gently nipped at your bottom lip cheekily, causing you to softly swat his arm before crossing your arms over your chest.

‘Am I forgiven?’ - Remy

‘I guess .’ - you

He loved the squeals and jolts you did whether he held you from behind before meting into his hold as though it’ll keep you safe and protected, you had so much trust in him with your heart that he was genuinely worried that he might make you regret giving him such an important task one day.

He respects your boundaries for if you feel things have gone on long enough, he wasn’t going to push you out of your comfort zone for his needs or wants, he just wands and needs you to be happy.

So for now he takes to appreciating every moment he gets to spend with you no matter what as you deserved to be worshiped and appreciated for everything you’ve given him, and if you ever were to show an ounce of insecurity about yourself, Remy was more then ready to shower you in sweet whispers and tender kisses and lovingly hugs to show you that you were everything and more to him if that was even possible.

‘Wouldn’t you be with someone more confident or social?’ You’d ask him one day and it broke his heart to hear you say such things because why should he desire anyone else when he has you.

‘And why do you i should be with someone like that when i have everything I’ll ever want or need right in front of me.’ He replied, kneeling in front of you with worried expression. You shrug. ‘I just don’t think we’re compatible and that what we have won’t last and you’ll find someone who can keep up with you..’

‘Oh mon Cher.’ Remy sighed as he held your hands in his, intertwining your fingers, bringing them to his lips as he kissed each and every one of your fingers. ‘We’re more compatible then you think, you may think we don’t fit well together but to me we couldn’t be two piece of the same puzzle, meant to be in more ways then one. We fill in the others blanks, we balance each other out and there should be nothing more important then that.’ Remy concludes as he eyes your lips.

‘May I kiss you mon Cher?’ He asks

‘You never have to ask but yes, yes you may kiss me. That sounds good right about now.’ You answered chuckling as Remy kissed you gently and slowly but deeply enough to convey his feelings towards you.

Remy didn’t care that you were shy or less interested in social interactions or were more of a homebody type of person, you were perfect the way you were and Remy wouldn’t want you any other way.

[moonlightazriel]

Love Sick ///Aemond X F!Reader

Summary: Alys Rivers had a vision about the prince’s arrivals, using her charm to lure him, she haven’t anticipated you, his new wife. So a little something might help him see who he truly belongs.

Warnings: SMUT

Word Count: 1,8K

Notes: I have read a lot of love potions fics and decided to give it a try. So here we are.

Main Masterlist

Alys Rivers always had visions, the flames would always tell her their secrets, this made it easier for her to survive. Yet, one vision kept appearing for her, a Targaryen Prince, dressed in his battle gears, long silvery hair tied to his back, a scar across his beautiful face.

She anticipated his arrival at Harrenhal way before it was even decided he should go. So when she heard the roar high in the skies, and saw the huge dragon landing in her home, she knew her time had come.

She had tended to him since he stepped his foot in Harrenhal, preparing his bath, serving his food, and occasionally flirting with him, she noticed how he looked at her, she was a pretty woman, long black hair and emerald green eyes, she was sure that it would just take a couple of days and he would fall for her.

Whoever, what Alys Rivers haven’t seen in her visions, was the Baratheon beauty arriving a week later. Lord Borros' third daughter, known for her breathtaking looks and even more impressive brain.

Lady Baratheon strolled through the front door, guards behind her as she walked through Harrenhal. And Alys watched with horror as the woman entered the dining room, giving a little smile to the Prince before slowly making her way towards him.

“Lord Husband.” She greeted, kissing his cheek and squeezing his shoulders, Aemond gave her a small nod and gestured for her to join him.

“How was your journey, my lady?” He inquired as the servers prepared her a plate, she politely thanked the maid before taking a piece of green bean with her fork.

“Quite exhausting, I am happy to finally settle down.” She bites her food. “Your dear mother was right, it feels good to be away from the Keep.” Aemond chuckled.

“Do not remind me of all that chaos.” She smiled at him, Alys kept in the corner watching the exchange in silent anger.

“Queen Helaena sent her greetings to you, my dear.” He held her hand.

“Did she talk to you?” Y/N nodded.

“Just a few words, but she seems better.” Helaena was still grieving the loss of her children in the hands of Daemon’s assassins.

“More wine, my Prince?” Alys intervened, her voice low and sensual, the prince turned his eyes to her, lifting his goblet. She could be his wife, but Alys knew what desire looked like, perhaps the prince just needed a little help.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Prince Aemond was in his study room, book in hands as he took some time off. Alys knocked, hearing his powerful voice commanding her inside.

“I brought some tea, my prince.” She placed the mug with the hot tea on his desk.

A simple love potion, she knew that he had feelings for her, so this would simply amplify them, make them so unbearable that he wouldn’t have any other choice than to go looking for her. He would claim her as his, as it should’ve been.

Alys excused herself, going straight to her room in the servants wing, she needed to get ready for when Aemond Targaryen knocked on her door and took her in his arms.

She had cleaned her room, and then, took a long shower, rubbing a scented soap on her skin, making herself look flawless. She sat on the bed and waited for him.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Y/N brushed her hair, Harrenhal was quite hot, so she asked the maid to run her a bath, she didn’t plan on leaving her chambers, so a silky nightgown covered her body while she took care of her hair.

The door was abruptly opened, making her jump in her seat. Her husband, without his coat and with four buttons of his linen shirt open, looked at her, a smirk on his lips as he entered the room.

“You know, dear wife?” He closed the door, walking towards her. “It was always you, when I went to Storm's End that day, it was you I had in mind.” His tone was slow, like he had been drinking.

He grabbed her hand, removing the brush and placing it on the desk. His other hand brushed her shoulder, pulling the straps down just a little.

“So beautiful, such a smooth skin. I know I had to have you.” He pulled her up, spinning her around until she was facing him, her hands splayed on his chest while he held her close by the waist. “You smell so good.” The prince said, smelling the skin of her neck.

Y/N felt her cheeks flushed at the attention, heating pooling in between her legs, forcing her to close them for some friction, as Aemond started to kiss her neck.

His touch was delicate, his lips cold against her hot skin. Kissing, licking and biting, making her whimper at the sensation spreading across her body.

“A-Aemond.” She half spoke half moaned, making the prince grow impossibly harder, his cock painfully restrained by his pants.

“You sound divine when you moan my name.” He said, getting away from her and walking towards the bed. He sat down, still looking at her, his shirt was messy and fully opened now. “Come here, my dear wife.” She made a move to walk to him but he stopped her. “Take it off.” He ordered.

She shivered as she saw the lust on his gaze, with shaking fingers, she undone the laces holding her nightgown in place, letting it pool at her feet, standing there completely bare to his hungry eye. His pink tongue darted out, wetting his lips as he eyed her up and down.

“You’re a goddess, I cannot wait to see you choke on my cock.” He grabbed her hand as she got close, pulling her straight to his lap. He kissed her, tongue exploring her mouth, hands cupping her ass.

She reached for the eyepatch, throwing across the room, she hated that damned thing, covering his beauty from her.

“You’re so beautiful, my prince.” She breathed, his lips attached to her breasts. Sucking the nipple in his mouth and moving his tongue in circles, making her squirm in his lap, brushing his hard cock.

He squeezed her flash, kissed her like he was going to die in the next second, and she moved her hips against his clothed cock, making it very hard to keep controlled. He never felt that kind of lust before, but he was ready to give in.

Y/N got up, and slowly kneeled in front of him, she had heard the ladies in court talking about the pleasures the mouth could bring to a husband, and despite the lack of experience, she wanted to try.

She reached for his belt, removing it and opening his pants, he lifted his hips just enough for her to slide all the pieces of clothes he was wearing down, freeing his dripping cock from its cage.

She swallowed hard, hesitantly grabbing it in her hands, earning a hiss from him. She moved her hand up and down, slowly, taking encouragement in his groans, the pleasure growing in him as she gently stroked him.

In a more bold move, she lowered her head, giving it a lick in the tip, Aemond shivering as she did so, she looked at him, giving him a small smile that could be the death of him. Then, she took him in her mouth, bobbing her head and masturbating what she couldn’t fit in her mouth. Aemond closed his eyes, buckling his hips and enjoying the sounds of her choking on his cock whenever she went too deep.

She hummed, sending vibrations down his cock, making his balls tight and the orgasm wash over him, his cock twitching, sending hot cum down her throat. She removed her mouth, coughing a little.

“You look so beautiful, kneeling in front of me.” He praised, his thumb caressing her cheek, making her blush as he looked at her. “Allow me.” He said, pulling her up and laying her down.

He got in between her legs, his breath fanning over her hot core, he circled the back of her legs, squeezing her skin and pulling her thighs apart. Smirking at her glistening cunt, he sank there, lapping at her folds, collecting all of her juice as she arched her back, moaning his name like a prayer.

He kissed her clit, rubbing circles with his tongue, making her see stars. Freeing one of his hands, he inserted two fingers inside her cunt, pumping them inside and out, in the same ruthless pace as his tongue. She moaned his name loudly enough to echo around the walls, feeling the knot in her belly grow until it was ready to snap. Driving her over the edge, her walls clenching around his fingers and closing her shaking legs around his head.

Aemond smirked against her, feeling her recover from her orgasm, he looked at her, sweat coating her forehead and panting, her chest moving up and down rapidly.

“Do you want more, my goddess?” She looked at him, smirking at her like the devil and she nodded. In a second, Aemond was on top of her, without any clothes and his cock ready for a second round.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Alys tapped in the bed frame, growing restless as the potion should be working in this exact moment but Aemond was nowhere to be seen. She got up, grabbing a robe and sliding it over her shoulders.

She walked towards the Prince chambers, forcing the door open just a little, she gasped as she peeked inside.

Lady Baratheon was facing the door, her eyes closed and mouth slacked open as she moaned loudly for him. “Do not stop!” She begged, her voice hoarse from all the screaming.

She was on all fours, her ass high in the air as Prince Aemond pounded inside her from behind, moving so fast that her breasts bounced back and forth.

Alys wanted to move but she was rooted in place, the potion had clearly worked but with the wrong person.

“Please, Aemond. I am going to cum.” She whined, and the prince pulled her hair behind, forcing her to look at him.

“And i am going to stuff you full with my heirs, make you swell with my seed and birth my children.” His tone so raw that Alys felt her cheeks hot in embarrassment, Lady Baratheon moaned his name, her body convulsing as her orgasm crashed down on her again, followed by him spilling inside her.

Alys watched as the prince removed himself from inside her, his hands stuffing his cum back inside her cunt. “I love you.” He breathed, pulling her by the hair again and kissing her with all he had.

“I love you too.” She replied, face flush red as she tried to recover from the amazing sex.

Alys walked backwards, running away from the scene, knowing that no matter what she did, she could never break the bond the two shared.