#older!Duncan Shepherd x reader

[eclipsedpascal]

Vile Intentions

60s!Older!Duncan Shepherd x Female Reader

You’d been obsessing over your fathers older best friend for months, finding it near impossible to tear your eyes from the stunning man throughout every party of your parent's that he had attended. So when the notoriously promiscuous man made a move on your young and naive self, you decided to disregard your friends and mothers concerns of his ungodliness and let yourself collapse into his grasp. If only you had known of his growing obsession with you and it's Vile Intentions.

Disclaimer: the concept of 60s!Duncan was come up with by Daisy ( @celestialrequiem ) and all credits go to her! Daisy always comes up with the best concepts so if you’re interested in more creepy, 60s!Duncan then please check out days of candy!! It’s art😌 But with Daisies permission, i’ve been writing this piece for the past few months as a set up for a new au which I’m currently working on. I’ve already written multiple other (smutty) fics for it nd they should all hopefully be out soon:)

Please read the warnings!!

Warnings: inappropriate relationships, large age gap (reader is 20 whilst Duncan is in his early 40s), dad’s best friend!Duncan, very slight hints at daddy kink, some teasing, innocent reader, 60s housewife stereotype, possessiveness, manipulative behaviours, maybe some slight mentions of a religion corruption kink?, kinda creepy duncan, mentions of alcohol, implied judgments of reader and mentions of smut:)

Notes: This fic is kind of inspired by cruel intentions, the manipulation themes and sudcing stuff is anyway hehe. I haven’t actually finished this the way I wanted to, but ahh I just needed to post something so I can get out of the writer's block i’ve been having. So yeah! Basically this is just a bit of creepy, manipulative, 60s!Duncan that will be a set up for a few other fics i’ve got in the works:))💗

Word count: 3.3k

●●●●●●●●

You had been staring at him all night, taking every chance you could to wander off from the rest of the party and stare at the handsome man.

Duncan, or as your parents referred to him, Mr. Shepherd, was a friend of your fathers and attended most the parties your family held. He knew your father from work as he owned a partnering company to the one your father worked at. They had met each other several months ago at a business meeting, and despite Duncan being 10 years or so younger than your father, the two of them became good friends quickly. At these events, they could usually be found drinking together near the living room bar, smoking cubans and joking about their recent work triumphs. It was their favourite ritual.

Duncan was around 40, well spoken and extremely attractive. Every time you saw him you were blown away by his looks. It was shameful how starstruck you became in his presence and you knew it was wrong to be thinking of an older man in such way, but you couldn’t help yourself. Your father spoke so very fondly of him and you couldn’t agree more with his sentiments.

You remember the first night you saw him. He had come over for dinner with your parents whilst you were out with some girlfriends and you had found yourself arriving home just as he was leaving. You were far too scared to talk to him, so instead you snuck up the stairs and stopped on the landing to lean over the banister and watch your parents wish him a goodnight.

You were shy, only having flirted with a few boys whilst you were in school as dating didn't appeal to you the same way it did your peers. You had been taught from very young age that the happenings that came from ‘dating’ were ungodly and that you were to stay far, far away from them. Instead you were to simply court a good man and marry him when the time came, but it had been 2 years since you left school now and the most male attention you had been able to gather was some light small talk at the local diner that had frightened you too much to properly partake in.

Still being at home with your parents had some benefits, though. You had more free time that didn't yet have to be spent as the ‘good housewife’ and you cherished that, knowing you would have to fill that role at some point soon. Luckily that thought didn't worry you too much. You had been prepared for it by your mother most of your life and like any good young lady, practicing your cooking and cleaning was just a normal part of life.

Parties were good for this. You were able to cook for your parent’s many guests and receive their compliments and criticisms on it, though recently the only opinions you cared for were Duncan’s. You would secretly listen in on his conversations with your father as he devoured your dishes, hoping for some kind of praise from the man.

You had spent this party in particular watching him from behind the kitchen door, peering past it just enough that you had a good view of his stubble blanketed face. As per usual, he was joking with your father, holding a bourbon in one hand and smoking a cigar with the other.

There were a few other men gathered closely around them, but all were busy with their own conversations, leaving Duncan with the perfect opportunity to bring up the topic he had been eager to discuss all night.

Letting out a laugh, he turned his head and fixed his eyes onto you. Seeing you freeze up in fear, he winked at you before returning to the conversion with your father. “Say, is that you daughter over there?” He lifted his glass in your direction, noticing you had now disappeared back into your not so secret hiding spot. You had retreated behind the door when you saw him point, not wanting to be in any kind of trouble with your father.

“Mhm, that’s Y/N. Our youngest.” your father chuckled at your bashfulness.

“She’s beautiful” He took a drag from his cigar, thinking back to the many times he had spotted your precious little face staring. Of course, he already knew who you were; but your father needn't be aware of that.

Your father nodded along. “She’s a pretty doll, but she’s too shy for her own good.” He looked down at the floor, worried thoughts running through his mind at the reminder of your anxiousness.

“Oh yeah?” This didn't actually surprise Duncan in the slightest; It was obvious you were shy. He found you gazing at him every time you were in the same room and yet you had never spoken to him. But this silent attraction of yours had never made you seem any less appealing to him, if anything the challenge of coaxing you out of your shell only served to entice him further.

He liked how quiet you were, the idea of receiving the reward of your sweet young voice when he finally managed to pluck sentences out of you delighted him. Just thinking about you excited him far more than anybody else he had been with. You were uncharted territory that was willing and wanting to be claimed by him. Nothing turned him on more.

“Well no man wants to marry a girl like that. She’d be a good housewife one day if she’d just talk to the men that showed interest in her! But every time someone’s tried, she’s gotten all flustered. Doesn’t say a damn word! Then they just.. loose interest and well.. here we are.” Your father cherished you, but he feared you would struggle in the real world; being you couldn’t hold a conversation to save your life.

Taking another drag of his cigar, he watched the door and listened to your fathers concerns, hoping to see you pop your head back around to sneak another peek at him, and surely enough you did. Your father watched this interaction, seeing the two of you lock eyes before yours fell to the ground cowardly. “She doesn’t exactly make it easy.” Your father commented.

Preparing to finally approach you after too many nights spent feeling your eyes on him without a single word spoken, Duncan finished his drink and placed it down on the hardwood bar beside him, saying one last thing to your father before parting. “Well perhaps those men should've put up more of a fight.”

Giving an illusion of focus, you stared down at your feet as you nervously danced them around each other. His polished black shoes entered your vision, your eyes trailing their way up his pant legs and blazer to his stubble sculpted face. Looking up at him from where you stood in the kitchen doorway, you felt your cheeks bloom a hot, cherry red. You were terrified.

“I couldn’t help but notice your staring back there, sweetheart.” He smiled down at you, his large stature making him tower over your frame.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words would come out. You wanted to defend yourself and apologise for your behaviour, but all you managed to squeak out after your long, unwanted silence was a meek “I-i’m sorry.”

“There’s no need for apologises. I enjoyed it.” He placed his hand on the wall next to you, leaning over you and licking his lip as he stared you up and down. He had never been this close to you before. He could make out the blue in your eyeshadow and smell the floral tones of the sweet fragrance you adorned. Yet he still craved to be closer.

You didn't know what to say now he was being so forward. Forgetting every word in your vocabulary, you felt your breathing grow heavy with the weight of fear now coursing through you. You looked back down at his feet, just wanting to avoid his eyes. Obviously you had dreamt of this occurring many times before, but now he was really here on front of you, the realisation of having to hold a conversation with such an attractive, older man had become far too daunting.

“You’re a nervous little thing, aren’t you?” He grazed his thumb over the bottom of your chin and lifted it slightly, his cigar balanced securely between his index and middle finger of the same hand gracing your face. “You know, I don’t bite, little one.” He chuckled, easing your nerves as you laughed lightly at his joke.

“So daddy’s not mad at me?” Feeling more confident now you had spoken, You looked past his shoulder at your father who was watching your conversation intently. You found it curious he approved of Duncan’s flirting.

“Oh no, Daddy’s not mad at you. I just thought you could use some company.” He caressed the outline of your jaw before bringing his hand to his face and puffing on his cigar, doing his very best to suppress the groan that was threatening to leave his lips after hearing your use of such a word. And his own words? They were smooth, of course. His confidence captivating and the way he bathed in your innocence; intoxicating.

He was a very flirtatious man, that you knew. You had heard rumours of his promiscuous nature when listening in on your mothers gossip sessions with her friends, all of them saying he hadn’t a wife, yet his bed was never empty.

You never saw him at Sunday service either. Everyone you knew would attend church, but not him. Not even once had he graced your congregation with an appearance. Your mother had commented on this concerning attribute of his to your father once before, during dinner, but he dismissed it, saying Duncan was a busy man and couldn’t afford to go to church when he was running such a large company; not even on god’s day.

But when you saw his face, all of your worries and concerns were washed away. He could have confessed unspeakable sins and you would have still found yourself worshiping him, falling to your knees and grovelling at his feet for just a slither of attention. And if your father trusted and defended him so often, then why shouldn’t you? Daddy knew him best and he wouldn’t be so open to him flirting with you if he was truly such a corrupt man.

“Company would sure be swell. That is.. as long as it’s you.” You batted your eyelashes at him, doing your best to uphold a facade confidence and flirt back. You didn't want to mess this up.

He smirked at the boldness of your words, moving his hand to run over your cheekbone with his finger tip of his thumb. “What’d you say we take a walk outside? Get a little more privacy.” He lowered his arm, offering it to you and waiting for you to grab it so he could lead you into the garden.

You considered your next move carefully, knowing it could be vital; but it didn't take you long to decide. You didn't care about the 20 year age gap or his reputation, too infatuated with his looks and charm to care about the judgmental stares you would receive if you walked out the door with him. So you accepted.

He finally had you.

●●●●●●●●

That night in the garden had been incredible. He was a very traditional man from what it seemed, extremely polite and respectful; far more than any man your own age had ever been. You knew others might not agree with your pairing, but you didn't care. He had asked if he could take you to the pictures the next Friday and you couldn’t have been more thrilled, trying to hide your excitement as you accepted his offer.

Your parents had argued with each other over breakfast the next morning, your mother scolding your father for letting such a man attempt to court you. She wasn’t happy when she found out you would be seeing him again but your father supported it, saying he couldn't think of anybody else who could better look after you. Duncan was more than wealthy enough to care for you properly and you were well aware of that.

Duncan knew that too, of course. He knew he could offer you so many things you had never experienced before. Whether that was buying you expensive jewellery he knew your father never did, or fucking your virgin cunt senseless, it didn't matter. He just knew he could and he would. He wanted you. Wanted to make you his and nobody else’s.

Things had moved pretty fast after your first date. The two of you would see each other pretty regularly. He would take you to dinner at a number of fancy restaurants he liked, or for drives in his red Cadillac where he would slide a hand over onto your thigh and leave it there whilst you watched him drive. You thought nothing of this little habit. It was something that made you tremble, yes, but you would have never suspected it to be his intention. Just as you didn't suspect his true motives for dating you in the first place. You would have never guessed he wanted you in the vulgar manner he truly did, and certainly not since the very first time he saw you; that would just be absurd.

At first the realisation it wasn’t just another quick fuck he was craving was much to Duncan’s dismay, but he grew to appreciate his new found desire. He wanted to lure you in, use his suave and traditional act to make you slowly fall for him, convince you he was just as reputable and unblemished as you were. He dreamt of the day he could call you his wife, his personal piece of arm candy to parade around and have obsess over him whenever and however much he desired it. It shouldn't be too hard, that he knew. You were so young and unguided. Easily manipulated, one might say. He adored the way you looked at him, your eyes glassed over with innocence, he almost felt himself wanting to look after you. Make you his little girl. But mostly he just couldn't stand the idea of another man’s hands on you. He needed to be there before someone else swooped in and stole you from him. Like an eagle stalking it’s pray.

Whenever he would drop you off at home, he would always walk you up to the front door and plant a cheeky kiss on your lips, politely pulling away after just a few seconds; but this one time was different. He slipped up.

You had been seeing him for just over three months at the time and were falling for him harder everyday. So when he walked you to the door and pressed his lips against yours just as he always did, you made the impulsive decision to keep him there a just little longer, moving your hand up to his hair and stopping him from pulling back.

You felt his hand rest on your waist, his other moving up your back to press you closer to him. You’d not been excepting his enthusiasm and it shook you to your core, never having been kissed like this before. The furthest you’d ever gone with a boy had been a four second kiss that happened in the playground at school over a decade ago.

Duncan’s lips began moving against yours, rough and urgent. It was too much. You felt your cunt grow hot and you emitted a sudden whimper at the feeling of his tongue entering your mouth. You didn’t know what to do with your hands, flailing them around as he held you tight.

You felt the bittersweet tang of blood hit your tongue as he bite down on your bottom lip, the pain of it somehow transforming into more pleasure as he violently pushed you into the door, creating a bang so loud you were sure everyone inside would have had heard it.

Of course you had been right, your mother had in fact heard it and was now interrupting the frenzied, lust filled moment you were sharing with Duncan by calling out your name, trying to find out if you were finally home at an hour this late.

He released you from his grasp, placing his arms down at his sides and pausing. You stared up at him, lips pierced and face completely red with embarrassment. You were filled with an urge you didn't quite understand as you found yourself wishing the moment hadn't ended so quickly.

“Sleep well, Y/N.” he quickly wished you goodbye, running his hand through his styled curls and retreating down the path to his car after his sudden loss of self control. You watched him for a moment before opening the front door and stuffing yourself inside, just wanting to run upstairs and hide from your prying mother’s questions.

Despite Duncan’s words, you didn’t sleep well that night. You tossed and turned for hours, tirelessly fighting the unsatisfied tingling feeling that had occupied your crotch ever since he first set his perverted lips on yours. You’d never felt like this before. Your body radiated heat like magma, urges feeling as if they had become trapped underneath your sweltering skin, trying desperately to claw themselves free from your pent up limbs before you combust from complete absence.

It all felt so new. So stimulating. so.. arousing. How could you have possibly been expected to restrain yourself from falling for someone who you could make you feel such carnal pleasures? You had been hidden from affection your whole life, only to have Duncan bathe you in it; buying you anything and taking you anywhere you wanted. He nurtured you as if you were the most precious object in existence, making sure that the overwhelming sense of love for him inside of you grew so present that when the time came to propose, you couldn't have possibly said no to him; even if you had wanted to.

●●●●●●●●

Your vision skewed and hazed by the puffy, white vail which draped over your face, you stared down at the church hall flooring, doing your best not to stumble over your own feet, being far too terrified to gaze up at the man you were destained to be with forever.

You were gaining on the end of the isle rapidly, fear flowing through your veins at a rate you had never experienced before and feeling the burn of your family and friends eyes scorching into your virgin skin. There they all stood, watching your young, trembling hands grip into your fathers arm with the sudden realisation you would soon be without him and belong to another.

Reaching the inevitable end, you left your fathers hold, carrying yourself up towards your future husband on only the dreams of what you hoped would be. Hearing the once deafening organ halt to a sudden silence, he lifted your vail and from deep within his chest, released a satisfied exhale, being reminded of the blinding and innocent beauty he was marrying.

Remembering your voice, as shaky as it may have been, you plead your vows. You stared up into his eyes and searched for the warm comfort his aquamarines had bore reassurance into your own with many a time before, solace and joy settling into you immediately.

Accepting your ring with a smile as wide as your now sparkling eyes, you muttered the fatal ‘’I do.”

"You may kiss the bride.” The priest chided happily, undivulged to how sinful of a man he had just bound you to.

Leaning in, Your new husband kissed you passionately. Quickly enough to look respectful in front of your peers and relatives, of course; but turbulently lewd enough to snatch your breathe away. He moved back, keeping his hold on your waist locked into place as he looked down at you with a devilish grin as you beamed back up at him.

“My bride. All mine.”

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Thank you sm for reading!!🥺💗

Tags: @celestialrequiem @ntxoza @dark-mei-rose @sojournmichael @blakescoven @ritualmichael @ghostangels @fernfiction @ferndolan @brattylovee @7-wonders @angelicmichael @melodylangdon @brooklinn13 @kitty4860 @instincts-baby @michaellangdonstanaccount @9layerdevilfoodcake @chicaluna2410 @plymptxn-reborn I've tagged just anyone who I thought might be interested, if you would like to be moved feel free to let me know!! you can also lemme know if you would like to be added to the tag list to:)

[shesclearlya3]

Dancing With a Stranger P.2

@iits-mikha asked: n a recent interview they asked Cody if he could have the opportunity to play another character he would had chosen to be the Countess, So my request is this: an AU where old!Michael where he’s not the antichrist but is the owner of the Hotel Cortez, please!!

pairing: Older!Michael x Reader

word count: 5,055

warnings: au!, language, seductive-boi, unprotected sex, oral (female and male receiving), other smutty goodness. idk how i thought i’d keep this smut free, yikes. i hardly write smut so i hope it’s not too terrible, enjoy.

*not entirely proof-read* 

part 1

The next few days were a blur. 

You and Winter spent the days at the park, getting scared and meeting your favorite characters. You changed your phone wallpaper to a picture of you and Beetlejuice, your cheesy grin making you flinch every time you unlocked your phone. Yet, you were living your best life, and it was a much-needed break from reality. 

As the hours of screams and thrill rides went by, Michael Langdon slowly slipped in the back of your mind. 

It wasn't until there was a knock on your hotel door bright in early on Halloween. Winter groaned from beside you, her small body cuddling into yours when you tried to leave. 

"It's fucking cold, stop," Winter moaned.

"Someone is here, Winter," you groaned, throwing the covers from your body when they knocked again. Your M&M socks were slipping off your feet as you opened the door, revealing Iris. 

"Good morning!" she gushed, her voice way too peppy for this time of day. You blinked at her, knowing you looked like hell with your band t-shirt, dull sweats, and orange socks. 

"Is everything alright?" you immediately asked, crossing your arms over your chest. It really is cold in here. You could feel your nipples getting hard, and you tried to hide your laugh. 

"Mr. Langdon asked me to drop this off," she said, shoving a white envelope in your direction. You took it, feeling the thickness and frowning. "He says it's a treat."

"What?-"

"Have a good day!" she insisted, before leaving you standing in the doorway.

You stood there with a comical look on your face, before quietly shutting the door and locking it. Winter had since sat up, her brown eyes frowning at you as you carefully opened the envelope. 

A white slip of paper caught your eye first, before the thick wad of cash behind it. You gasped, pulling it out altogether.

"HOLY SHIT!" Winter said, shoving the blankets off her before scrambling to stand beside you. You counted the money; there was quickly a few thousand in your hands.

"I KNOW-" you gasped. You had never seen this much money in your life, at least in person. "He left a note..."

"Read it," Winter urged, taking the money and feeling it up, "This is hot in a really bizarre way."

Ms. l/n,

Please take this offering to buy yourself some new clothes, preferably for dinner tonight. I took the liberty of ordering food from a nearby restaurant. I do not believe you'd find the menu here satisfactory, trust me. 

Meet me at the penthouse at 8 PM sharp. This is very important, not a minute before or less. You may find some less than impressive guests if you do. 

Oh, I almost forgot - you keep what you buy. Spend it wisely.

Sincerely, 

M.L

You sat on the edge of the bed as Winter read the note to herself. Your jaw was almost to the floor as you had forgotten about your plans for tonight. It was fun the other night when you met him, but now you were nervous.

"This is amazing," Winter gasped excitedly. "But wait, why do you look like that?" she asked.

"How in the hell am I supposed to have dinner with him tonight? He's so-"

"Weirdly arousing and complex?" Winter grinned, mocking Liz's words from the other night. "Girl, I'll gladly take your place if you're going to chicken out, who in their right mind would do this for you back home?"

You stuffed everything back into the envelope before you both settled back into bed. "Maybe that means he is crazy, and I'm doing myself a favor," you mumbled.

"First off, he is hot. Second, it's just dinner, if he is willing to pay for you to get a new dress, well..." Winter pulled the covers up to her nose, "Maybe that means he is a keeper, y/n,"

You both laid there in silence before you caught up on sleep. You woke up again closer to ten, and you stayed under the covers on your phone while Winter took a shower first. You scrolled through Instagram, Tumblr, and TikTok, seeking out the ones that reminded you most of Vine.

You tried to distract yourself from the anxiety bubbling in your belly. Michael Langdon intimidated you; everything about him seemed so reserved and poised. From the way he spoke, to how he walked, and you had to admit, his wardrobe was on-point. 

"I'll just get drunk before I go up there." you joked to yourself as you passed the fifth video of spoiled New Yorkers seeing Beetlejuice for the eightieth time. 

-

Since you and Winter weren't familiar with the higher-ups in the fashion department, you did a lot of Googling as you walked down the streets of Los Angeles. The Hotel Cortez felt like an icebox compared to the weather out here. Most of the stores that you passed or glanced through seemed to cater specifically to prom dresses and other school formals. 

You stopped into a particular store that seemed too over budget. Winter couldn't help but gush at their selection of bridal gowns in the back of the store, and as you pulled her away, your mouth even watered at the beautiful dresses in front of you. 

"I'm not getting married, Winter," you snorted as you dragged her back into the streets.

You both stopped a Starbucks, sitting down and resting as you chug your drink. "I'm about to give up," you sighed.

"We've only been out for- two hours," Winter replied sheepishly. "Come on, you have three-grand in your pockets, we'll find something."

"Everything here is kind of weird," you frowned, thinking of the four-thousand dollar dress you saw that barely covered the crotch of the mannequin wearing it. "Plus, who can afford to spend four-grand on a dress?"

"Think about it this way," Winter pointed at you, "Michael saw you wearing clothes from Forever 21. Maybe he figured you liked the simple things,"

You know how to stretch a buck when your paychecks were smaller than usual. Michael did say buy something for tonight, but...

"How will I bring all of the clothes back home?" you asked.

"We'll worry about that later, and let's get the fuck out of here, I can barely hear myself think."

It was more comfortable for you to go into stores you were more familiar with. You bought new jeans, new shirts, and dresses to wear once the weather warmed up again back home. 

By the time you were finished, you still had about $2,400 in your wallet. You let Winter pick out some things too. It made you feel bad about going on a shopping spree without her. 

"I wonder if this is what it feels like to have a sugar daddy!" Winter all but yelled in the sea of people passing you in the street. You threw your head back and laughed.

"I guess we need to find ourselves one," you joked.

"Okay, but Michael, I mean- The Count," Winter rolled her eyes, "Is totally sugar daddy material, is he not?"

"Is he even old enough? He's like thirty-four, when I think of them, I imagine someone in their sixties or something," you stated.

"He's older, and he gives you money for nice things, so I'd say he most certainly qualifies," Winter said, continuing to talk when a mannequin caught your eye. 

You stopped dead in your tracks, not caring when the person behind you cursed when he bumped into you. Winter finally realized you weren't by her side, waltzing over with a confused look on her face.

The red cocktail dress stared back at you, the silk taffeta material almost glowing under the light above it. The neckline plunged, leaving little to the imagination. You didn't care, though. 

"Do you see a price tag?" you asked.

"I think that's it-" Winter said, leaning in closer, "-holy shiiii-"

The store owner must have caught you two gawking, because the door swung open, revealing a small man with a shaved head beaming at the two of you. "Are you ladies enjoying the view?" he joked.

"Yes, I love this dress," you said, pointing at it. He seemed pleased as he looked you up and down. 

"I think this calls for a fitting! My name is Ted, come on in," he said.

Needless to say, spending 2,300 on a dress was strangely rewarding.

_

You got into the elevator at 7:57.

It slowly rose to the top, and you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You had many floors to go, and you looked at yourself in the mirrored wall. 

Winter had pinned your hair back, before coloring your eyes and lips in a similar shade of red to your dress. You admired your boobs, hoping he wouldn't be too put off by them. You never really dressed like this; hoodies and sweaters were some of your favorites. It felt good to show off your body; you felt beautiful. Like you accepted yourself for who you were, even if it was over by the end of the night. 

You ran a hand along your belly, sighing deeply as you felt like you were going to vomit.

it's just dinner, you'll be fine.

The elevator slowly came to a stop, the doors slowly sliding open. You looked around, seeing you were already inside of his place. You could hear gentle music playing in the background; you hid your smile when you heard Lady Gaga singing.

"Hello?" You called out, your voice meek. When you stepped out, you realized how much warmer this room was compared to the rest of the hotel. If it were any warmer, you'd probably think you were about to enter the deepest pits of Hell.

"Ms. l/n, how lovely to see you,"

You jumped, looking to see Langdon slowly making his way to you, his hands behind his back. In perfect pose, like always. The view behind him told you he just came from his bedroom.

You were at a loss for words, much to his amusement.

"Interesting..." he said as he observed you with a slight tilt to his head. "I admire your choice of color, the red compliments your eyes," Michael said.

"Thank you, uhh-"

"You can call me Michael," he said firmly. "I hope you used my offering wisely, I'd hate to think all that went to waste."

His blue eyes bore holes into your skull as you instinctively went to push your hair behind your ear until remembered it was pinned back. You dropped your hand with a shy grin. "It was nice, thank you."

Michael continued to stare at you like he couldn't seem to figure you out. You watched as his perfect brow twitched as if he were hiding his true expression from you. You swallowed, turning to admire the rest of his space. Like the lobby, red seemed to be a favorite in his repertoire.

Almost like a ghost, you could feel his presence directly behind you. A gasp caught in your throat as you felt the fabric of his expensive dinner jacket brush against your bare arm. A small glass of wine. You took it from him, bringing it to your nose where you gently inhaled.

Amusement flickered in his eyes as he watched your childish action. He had a glass in his own hand, but it definitely wasn't wine.

"Iris is bringing dinner at 8:30," he explained, watching your eyes flutter as you took a sip. It tasted terrific, you wondered where it was from. But you never asked. "Sit, y/n," Michael pointed to the expansive couch behind you.

You chose a cushion, Michael sinking into one just a bit farther down. You found yourself taking bigger sips of wine; it was almost addictive, the taste. Michael brought his glass to his lips, draining it quickly, before he set it down, his tongue slowly licking along his lip. You stared at it.

"y/n," he sighed. You loved the way your name rolled off his tongue. Michael suddenly smirked, his eyes slowly meeting yours. "Tell me about yourself."

You cleared your throat. You always found this to be awkward; what was really interesting about your life compared to his? Yet, you told him a little about your life back home. Your job, your education, your friendship with Winter, and how important she was to you.

Michael didn't say a word the entire time. He watched you intently, almost like he was entranced by you. Your voice, your past, your hopes, and dreams. It brought you comfort; you felt like someone was listening to you out of pure interest, and not to be kind.

"I think that's enough about me," you said awkwardly. Once again, his eyes crinkled with amusement. "It's your turn."

Almost as if on cue, the elevator slid open. Iris and Liz stepped out, pushing a large tray of food. Michael immediately stood up, his eyes piercing through you as you slowly did the same.

"Dinner is served, my beauties," Liz said excitedly, pushing the cart towards the two of you. Michael rolled his eyes, but you could see the playfulness in his actions.

"Thank you, Liz. Iris." He said, looking at her like she had all the answers in the world. Iris shrugged, waving him off as they set the table for you two.

You looked at your empty glass, before looking up at Michael, "Michael-"

"Of course, y/n," he said. He took the glass from you, his fingers brushing yours. He was a little cold to the touch.

Michael got you some more wine as you pondered how he could have possibly known what you were about to ask.

"Is there anything else I can do?" Iris asked as Liz wheeled the cart back to the elevator, waiting patiently.

"Not at all, I will call when we're finished," Michael said, handing you back the glass.

Iris nodded, turning, and meeting Liz. Before the elevator doors shut, Liz winked at you.

Without a word, Michael walked to a chair, gesturing for you to sit. You walked over and took a seat as he gently pushed you in. Michael placed a hand on your shoulder, his rings softly digging into your skin. There was something erotic about the way he moved his hands, so fluid and sexual.

"You seem tense, y/n," he mocked, and you could imagine the smirk on his lips. You shook your head, pressing your thighs together as you tried to forget the handsome man standing behind you.

"I'm just hungry," you said lamely. You felt his fingers gently curl into you before releasing.

"As you should be." He said before his hands left you. Michael walked around the table, sitting across from you. The distance between you was small, you could nudge his leg with your toes.

Michael's glass was full, as he watched you expectantly. The food smelled delicious, your belly softly rumbling as you glanced at him.

"Don't wait for me, precious," Michael said, pressing his fingers together. Your cheeks slightly burned at the nickname, before slowly picking up your silverware.

After a few bites, Michael finally started to eat. You remained mostly silent, enjoying the food. Your foot gently bobbed along to the music.

can you light the fire

i need somebody who can take control

"You never told me about your life," you pointed out. Michael glanced at you, taking a sip of his drink, a mischievous look in his eyes.

"I told you how old I am." He smirked.

"Come on, Michael. I spilled my whole life story to you, now it's your turn." You glared at him.

"Very well," he said. "I was born in December of 1985. My parents were in the process of getting divorced. I had a twin, but he was stillborn," Michael said. His tone hardly wavered, neither did the look in his eyes. He seemed almost content. "My mother was devastated, she blamed me for years for his death. I was too strong, I overshadowed my brother, and he never stood a chance."

You had stopped eating, wondering if you should have even asked in the first place. "Michael..."

"I like honesty, y/n," Michael stated. He looked directly in your eyes, "Do you disagree?"

You slowly shook your head. "No..."

"Great." He ran a finger along the rim of his glass, the diamonds on his rings shining from the light. "She killed herself when I was ten. My father couldn't afford to raise me on his own, so we moved here. That's when I met Iris. She became my second mother, took me in like I was her own. Eventually, my dad abandoned me without a word of warning. He died two years ago under mysterious circumstances." Michael said coldly.

You felt a pang in your chest, and you instinctively raised a hand to your eyes to make sure you weren't crying. Michael stared at his plate, his eyes forming into slits.

"After the original owner died, I took over. I made some investments, great ones, in fact. Now I own the hotel with all the money anyone would ever need. I take care of my family, and they take care of me."

Your food had grown cold by the time he finished.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize how painful your past has been, Michael."

You were surprised to see him smile. Michael showed no signs of arrogance, just genuine appreciation. "I tend to keep the painful memories to myself, y/n. Your kindness has just opened up my vulnerability."

_

After dinner, you and Michael had moved back to the couch. After a few more glasses of wine, you were more talkative.

Iris had cleared the plates before leaving you alone. Michael listened to you talk about your favorite things and what you despised most.

For someone who wasn't that much older than you, give or take, he was very wise. If his dialect wasn't example enough, Michael's real thoughts and opinions were of an old soul. The hours slowly ticked by, and before you knew it, you were leaning against his side.

"I find you to be fascinating, y/n," Michael said. Your hair had slowly started to unravel, and he eventually released it all together. He wouldn't admit it to you, but he loved the way it framed your face. And your neck.

"You don't think I'm just some boring twenty-something?" You teased. Michael smiled.

"Not at all."

You glanced at the clock on the wall. It was nearing 2 AM.

"Holy fuck," you said. Michael snickered at your language but didn't comment. "I didn't realize how late it was."

"You're more than welcome to leave, y/n," he said, but his words seemed rather forced. "You don't have to stay on my behalf."

You could feel yourself becoming tired. Yet, you were very much enjoying this. Michael was a breath of fresh air. Everything you said, you didn't feel scrutinized. Michael liked to hear you talk, to hear about the things you were most passionate about. He listened to you.

You weren't drunk, just a little tipsy. You tilted your head at him, "Michael, how are you as single as a pringle?"

Michael frowned at you before a deep, genuine laugh echoed from his chest. You blinked at him.

"y/n, I'm very particular about my women," he said quietly. "I was a teenager once, you know. I made many mistakes, just like you, just like everyone else. I have my guard up more than most. You understand."

Michael was right, you understood perfectly.

"You talk like you're from an old Hollywood movie. It's kind of hot." You blurted out.

Michael brought a hand to your cheek. You leaned into his touch, his fingertips gently moving along your cheek, tracing over your nose before setting on your painted lips. Most of it had worn off by now, but neither you nor Michael cared.

"My sweet, sweet y/n," he whispered. "I certainly don't fuck like one."

You felt your thighs clench as he tilted his head at you. Michael's blue eyes observed you before a smirk slowly crossed his lips.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, y/n," he teased. His finger left your lips before they trailed down the side of your neck. He grabbed your throat, applying just enough pressure that left you a whining mess. "I think you've been hiding your arousal from me all night." He frowned, "At least, that's what you seem to think."

Michael observed you quietly, your hand slowly coming up to touch his as he continued holding your throat. He was amused by the sight of you.

"I could almost smell you," he growled before he lifted you like you weighed nothing. You sat on his lap, his knee knocking your legs out of the way. Your dress rode up on your thighs, revealing the red underwear underneath. It was nothing fancy, just comfortable.

Michael pressed his nose to your ear, adjusting his grip on you as you squirmed in his lap. "I like you, y/n. You're very bright, not quite like others I have encountered..." he pressed a kiss to your earlobe. "Yet, one thing always remains the same."

You slowly stuttered out, "And what's that?"

Michael chuckled in your ear, the sound husky. His free hand slowly slipped under your panties, running his fingers through your folds, before finding your clit like it was nothing. You gasped, a quiet moan escaping your throat as your hips bucked towards his hand.

"You girls want to be impaled on my thick cock, isn't that right?" Michael mewled in your ear. He still teased you as his hand was in your underwear, you pouted.

Michael released your throat, your body immediately sucking in air as he unzipped the back of your dress, allowing it to bunch at your waist. You helped him slide it off, you now clad only in your panties.

You could feel his hardness rubbing against your ass.

Michael removed his hand from your clit, making you sigh in frustration. He tsked at you, pulling your back flush against his chest as he carefully slid his fingers inside of you.

"You don't have to be greedy, y/n," he scolded. "I love having my fingers inside your sweet pussy. You take them so well, baby," he sighed into your ear.

Michael continued to finger you as you moaned and squirmed above him. No matter how many times he gently scolded you for moving too much, you couldn't stop.

"Michael, I'm so close," you whined.

"I never said you could come, y/n," he shook his head. "Be a good girl, bad girl's get punished if they misbehave,"

You whined as his fingers curled inside of you. Your arm slowly wove around his neck, gasping his name as you tried to fight off your impending orgasm.

"My precious girl," Michael purred before his fingers slid out of you.

The whine that left your mouth was loud. Michael laughed at your distress, his hand sliding from your panties entirely. He stuck them in your mouth mid grunt, making you shut up.

"Make them spotless, y/n," Michael said sternly. "Let's see how well you use that tongue before I stick my cock in your mouth."

You sucked his fingers, purposely being as loud as you can. Your tongue ran along his digits, tasting your arousal, before the sweet taste of Michael. When he seemed satisfied with your efforts, he pulled them out, forcing you to stand up.

You had no idea how Michael shed his clothes so quickly. Before you knew it, he was pulling you on top of his body. Your eyes widened at the sight of his dick in front of your face. Your knees resting on either side of his head as he ran his big hands along your ass.

"If you be a good girl, I may let you come, precious," Michael stated before you felt his tongue slowly circling your clit.

The sensation caused you to gasp, temporarily buckling your elbows as you struggled to stay above him. Michael kept a tight grip on you, your belly laying directly on his. Perhaps that meant your weight was no bother to him.

You gripped his shaft in your hand, your eyes rolling in the back of your head as he slowly dragged his tongue along your slit. Michael moaned against you, causing your legs to tremble from the pleasure he was giving you.

You licked the tip before slowly taking him into your mouth. Michael hummed his approval from underneath you. He was thick, and you could feel your mouth burning as you opened as wide as you could.

Michael slowly rutted his hips to meet your mouth, both of you groaning as he slipped further into your mouth, and then Michael sliding his tongue into your tiny hole. You weren't that experienced in this predicament; you were afraid of neglecting Michael as he blissfully ate you out.

After a while, your legs started to quake as Michael spread you out wider. His back arched from the couch as he chased your pussy when it started to become too much. His hands gripped your ass tightly, shaking his head against you as you released him from your mouth to scream his name.

Michael's tongue gently lapped at your clit as you came down from your orgasm. His tongue curled against your dripping hole, gathering your juices while he slurped you up.

"Michael," you moaned. He pressed kisses along your folds, before trailing along your thighs. You continued to stroke his cock, feeling his own body tensing up beneath you.

"I better come in your fucking mouth, y/n," he asserted. You felt him make your ass, causing you to yelp. "You're going to swallow every last drop."

You took him back into your mouth as he released your ass. Michael kept his hands on your thighs, stroking them softly as you took him in as far as he would go. Your mascara ran down your cheeks as his girth stretched your mouth to ridiculous lengths.

"That's it, baby," he whined. You fought the urge to smile against him. Michael Langdon, whining because of you. His dominant hand came back to your pussy, feeling for your clit. You were still sensitive, your legs jerking as he starting stimulating you. Again.

You groaned in disapproval.

"After I come in your sweet mouth, you're going to sit on my cock, precious."

A few more jerks of your hand had him falling apart beneath you. You felt him spurt deep into your throat, your eyes closing at the feeling. Michael slowly circled your clit as he came, sighing deeply when you sucked him clean.

"FUCK!" he called out. Michael maneuvered you off him, before standing up after you. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you in for a kiss.

Michael took your breath away, the taste of you on each other's lips. You felt him bite your bottom lip, before moaning into your mouth. His hands slid along your body, playing with your breasts, ghosting over your arms, just feeling you.

Michael took a seat, bringing you down onto his lap. You brought him in for a kiss this time, smiling as he carefully helped you slide onto him.

You felt him in your belly, gasping and breaking the kiss as you settled onto his thighs. Michael leaned back against the couch, his blonde hair frizzled out as he gazed at you with admiration.

He didn't say anything as you adjusted to him, his hands roaming your skin freely. The playlist in the room had long stopped, leaving you two in silence, save for the pants and whimpers.

Once you were comfortable, you bounced on his lap. Michael allowed you to take control at first, his lips sucking your nipples into his mouth as you run your hands through his soft hair.

"Your pussy is so fucking tight for me, y/n," he grunted. You pulled his mouth from your breasts, silently begging him to pay attention to the sensitive skin on your neck. He obliged, biting and leaving delicate kisses to your slick skin. He left his mark on you, eventually grabbing your hips again to pound into you.

"Oh, f-fuck!" You gasped, "Michael, Michael, Michael,"

His hips were smacking against you at an almost inhuman pace. His face remained buried in your neck, leaving multiple love bites as he growled into your skin.

"You better come before I do, baby," Michael warned. "You want to come, don't you, baby?" He mocked you. He released one of his hands, reaching back to bunch your hair in his hand, before yanking it. Your chest arched into his, gasping as he exposed your neck to him.

"P-please, Michael..." you whimpered as he kept up his relentless pace.

"I'm fucking close, y/n. You better come all over my dick, precious. Show me who this pussy belongs to."

The next few thrusts of his hips had you coming all over him. Your wetness dribbled down your thighs, onto his and the cushions beneath you.

You unintentionally squeezed his dick, your muscles contracting so tightly that Michael nearly lost his breath as he came inside of you. He slowly moved you along his shaft, making sure you completely coated him.

He brought his lips to yours again, his hands cupping your cheek as you kissed. You stayed in that position for a few minutes, before he gently removed you from his lap to place you beside him. You gasped as you no longer felt full.

Michael spread your legs, his eyes on yours as he slowly ate you out for a second time. You mewled from how sensitive you were. Just like the first time, Michael kept a firm grip on you as he lapped up his cum leaking out of you. You ran a hand through his hair, sighing his name as he pressed his nose onto your clit.

When he was finished, he pulled you close to him, his head resting on your breasts. You both were exhausted.

"We should have done this a few days ago." You whispered, thinking of your ride back home.

"We still have time," he whispered. "I hope your friend doesn't expect to see you until then."

taglist: @soph3218​ @jetblackpayne​ @its-mikha​ @vixi3303​ @cuddletothecake​

[7-wonders]

Any chance you could do a professor Duncan and reader, where the reader goes to a college party and gets drunk. She calls him to pick her up and she’s just being clingy and shit?

I’ve literally been thinking about this idea on and off for MONTHS now, so I’m really glad that you sent this to me!

The blue light emanating from the phone has Duncan’s eyes fluttering open. Although he had promised himself that he wasn’t going to fall asleep, the late hour--Duncan checks the time and groans when he sees that it’s only 1 in the morning, begrudgingly conceding that you may be right when you tease him about being an old man--dragging his eyelids shut. The only reason he’s up this late is also the reason why his phone is now blowing up.

Logically, Duncan knows that he doesn’t need to stay up and make sure that your night at a college party goes well. After all, you are a pseudo-adult who is perfectly capable of making her own choices and being responsible for her own wellbeing. Still, he can’t help but feel mildly responsible for you. You’re not even in an actual relationship, although that’s more due to stubbornness than a lack of actual feelings. But, for better or for worse, you trust him, and he holds your opinion of him in high regard.

Duncan hadn’t expected you to even spare him a passing thought tonight. After all, you’re young and vibrant and fun, surrounded by others who are like you. What makes him believe that you’re going to think about the older professor who you can’t even be seen in public with? It’s unhealthy, how much Duncan cares for you, but he can’t deny how his heart stutters when he answers his phone.

“Hello?” Duncan says, the heavy bass of whatever bar or house party you’re at forcing him to hold the phone away from his ear just slightly.

“Hi!” you squeal loudly, Duncan immediately relaxing upon hearing the sound of your voice. “Oh shit, did I wake you up?”

“No, I haven't gone to bed yet.” A half-truth, but it’s one that you accept easily. “Are you having fun?”

“So much fun!” All of the different sounds of music and people talking and yelling would be a little overwhelming, but all that Duncan can hear are your drunken giggles as you try to decide what you want to say next. Despite the late hour, Duncan can’t help but smile. “Duncan?”

The background noise softens, and Duncan assumes you’ve managed to make your way outside. “Hm?”

“Oh,” you laugh, “I thought you had hung up.”

“Nope, I’m still here, princess.” He hears someone, probably one of your friends, call your name. “Why are you on the phone with me? Shouldn’t you be with your friends?”

“Mm, it’s almost last call.”

“How are you getting home?” Duncan knows that you would never drive drunk, but he doesn’t trust your friends as much as he trusts you.

“We’re getting a Lyft, but...” you trail off, attention captured by the sound of people cheering in the bar before the clearing of Duncan’s throat steers you back on track. “Oh my god I’m so sorry, I promise I’m not drunk!”

“I’m sure you’re not,” Duncan chuckles at your obvious lie. “What were you saying?”

“Umm, we’re getting a Lyft, but I really don’t want to ride with a bunch of drunk people since I, myself, am not drunk.”

“Of course.”

“Soooooo,” you drag out the word, and he knows what you’re going to ask before you ask it. You’re not nearly as clever as drunk you thinks you are. “I was wondering if you would wanna pick me up?”

“That wouldn’t be overstepping any boundaries?” Duncan had actually offered to pick you up in the first place, but you had turned him down based on the fear of somebody seeing you with him.

“Boundaries, schmoundaries! I miss you, and I wanna see you!”

He should at least attempt to act a little annoyed at the request, but Duncan’s so thrilled to be needed by you in such a domestic way that he’s immediately up and grabbing his keys. “Send me your location, okay?”

“Oh my god!” you gasp. “I love that song!”

“Not what I meant. I don’t know where to pick you up if I don’t know where you are.”

“Location incoming! See you soon, Dunc!” You hang up before Duncan can get another word in, sending him the requested location so that he can pick you up.

As expected, you’re at one of the popular college bars. Duncan hates that he knows which bars are popular with students, but it’s impossible to tune out his students excitedly chattering on Monday mornings about their weekends. He pulls into a parking spot, thanking his tinted windows for the privacy they provide. He’s about to text you when you come stumbling out of the bar, waving exaggeratedly in his direction.

Duncan’s eyes shamelessly rack up and down your figure, the high-waisted jeans you’re wearing perfectly accentuating your ass and the white crop top flashing a strip of your stomach. You open the passenger door, laughing in glee when you see that Duncan actually is here.

“Duncan!” you cheer, clambering into the car and closing the door behind you. “You came!”

“You asked me to, remember?”

Nodding, you fumble with the seatbelt before finally getting yourself buckled into the car. Duncan stifles a laugh at the way you stare at everything your gaze falls on, as if you’re seeing it for the first time. As Duncan begins to drive, he notices that you’re inching your outstretched palm closer to him. It’s an obvious plea for him to hold your hand, but he’s interested to see how drunk you handles the lack of attention.

As it turns out, you don’t handle inattention very well when you’re drunk. You keep glancing over at him as you hope to get his attention until your hand is nearly on his lap. Finally you’ve had enough, and you huff loudly.

“Dunc, hold my hand!” you groan, jutting your bottom lip out in a pout.

“Oh, I’m sorry princess, you didn’t ask!” You’re a little too inebriated to detect his sarcasm, continuing to frown at him until he places his large hand in yours. “I’m assuming you enjoyed yourself, then?”

“Yes!” You kiss Duncan’s cheek before laying your head on his shoulder. “We played a couple of rounds of pool, which I’m shockingly good at when I’ve had a couple of drinks.”

Duncan pretends to be shocked. “I thought you said you weren’t drunk!”

“I may have fibbed just a little bit.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

When Duncan parks in the parking garage of his apartment, it takes a moment for you to realize that you’re not at your apartment. “Why are we here?”

“I’m not going to leave you alone when you’re drunk, (Y/N).”

“I’d be fine,” you huff, getting out of the car.

“I know that, but it makes me feel better to know you’re not going to get into any drunken accidents.”

Duncan comes around to the other side of the car to make sure that you haven’t fallen over, smiling at you when you hold your arms out to him. He places his hands on your hips, pulling you to him and letting you kiss him.

“Can we go inside now?” Duncan asks, watching as you disentangle yourself from his arms to slip out of your heeled shoes.

“Will you carry me?” A hopeful smile spreads on your face and Duncan sighs, knowing that it’s already over for him.

“Your legs aren’t suddenly broken, are they?”

“But my feet hurt!”

Duncan attempts to shake his head, but the way you grin at him melts any resistance he may have had. “Fine.”

“Yay!” You hop on Duncan’s back, wrapping your arms around him as you snuggle into him. 

“You smell nice,” you note as the elevator takes you up to Duncan’s floor.

“Thank you, you smell like tequila.”

“Somebody spilled tequila on me when we were dancing,” you mutter into Duncan’s ear, peppering his skin in kisses between the words.

“You’re awfully clingy when you’re drunk.” Then, you say the words that make his heart stop.

“It’s because I love you!” you croon, somehow sensing when Duncan freezes even though the complexities of a seatbelt stumped you less than 20 minutes ago. “Uh oh, was I not supposed to say that?”

“Um…” Thankfully, Duncan needs to focus on unlocking his door, giving him time to formulate a response as you continue to cling to his back like a koala. “It’s not that you weren’t supposed to say it, it’s just that you’ve never said it before. Plus, we’re not actually dating.”

“Well that’s stupid!” You let go of Duncan when you reach his bed, falling back onto the mattress and giggling. “Sober me is a pussy.”

Duncan coughs to hide his surprised laugh. “(Y/N), don’t say that!”

“What? It’s true.” 

When you start to lay back against the pillows, Duncan grabs your ankle and pulls you down the bed. “Nope, you’re not falling asleep smelling like a bar.” He grabs a shirt that you had left at his place on accident (and that he certainly hadn’t washed and kept in a dresser) and tosses it to you. “Go take a shower.”

“Ugh, do I have to?”

“If you don’t want to sleep on the floor, then yes.” He’s exaggerating. He knows it, you know it, even the dog barking outside knows it. Still, you’ve found it’s impossible to say “no” to Duncan, so you grab the shirt from him and stand from the bed.

“Not worried I’m going to drown in the shower?” you tease.

“Yell if you start to drown,” Duncan deadpans, smiling as he finds you once again hugging him.

“Sorry if I made you uncomfortable by saying I love you,” you mutter against his chest.

“You didn’t. Besides, I know you’re drunk, and you won’t mean it in the morning.”

You shake your head. “I will. I think...I’ve loved you for a little bit now, but I just haven’t realized it.” Kissing him, you let go of him and head towards the bathroom. “I love you, Duncan.”

The door closes before you can hear Duncan quietly say “I love you, too.”

[codyfernmorelikedaddyfern]

64 & 80 with Older!Duncan please?

I need everybody to witness this murder attempt by anon. Also, I’m an idiot, I wrote it as Duncan and then realised it was “older!duncan” that was requested (as if it made anything better…) so I rewrote part of it.Reader is in their mid 20′s, Duncan is around 40 (yes daddy).

One night’s stands were not part of her habits but when shefound herself perched up top Duncan Shepherd’s laps, the 40 year old heir ofthe Shepherd’s Freedom Foundation, she didn’t seem to mind much.His hands teased her pencil skirt up her thighs to bunch up on her waist while(Y/N) bucked her hips to meet his. Her fingers found purchase in the pulledback mop of brown locks on the bachelor’s head while her tongue desperately foughthis for dominance.

How did it go so quickly? Once second she was enjoying anAfter Gala drink with Duncan, chatting about anything and everything and thenext, he had her draped across his lap on his expensive hotel room’s couch.Maybe it was the multiple glasses of wine he had put on his tab for her. Maybeit was that beautiful glow covering her skin as she laughed at his corny jokes.But frankly, the reason why Duncan had her frame trembling with arousal whileshe panted and grinded on top of him was the way she taunted him with a gentlewhisper. He has asked her if she would fancy retiring to his room for a glass ofchampagne to which she replied with a “You’re not taking me to bed. Ever”. And when he leaned closer to her earto respond, “Who said it had to be on the bed?” caused her to gentlywhimper against his skin.

Soon enough, he was kissing her neck and getting all sortsof pretty sounds to escape her lips on the elevator ride and then she pushedhim down on the couch to climb up across his thighs. Delighted mewls pushedpast her lips once his hips finally moved against her to meet her thrusts.Flipping the situation around, Duncan quickly had (Y/N) laying on the sofa,parting her soft thighs with the gentlest of touch.“I can safely assume that Mr. Shepherd isclean” she hinted as he slipped out his belt with a satisfying whippingnoise as it cracked in the air while she slipped the lacy panties she had nowsoaked. “So this filthy little girl wantsto be fucked raw, mh?” he huskily groaned in the shell of her ear only forher to whimper in response. “I do, sir”(Y/N) bit her lower lips at the sound of Duncan unzipping his trousers.

“Don’t ruin the sofa. Ormy blouse.” Her playful chuckle was a much needed change of scenery fromall of the vanilla women he’d been used to. “I’ll just have to cum inside youthen.” He was quick to quip back, his throbbing cock easing her wallswith a delicious burn as he thrusted deep within her. Arching her back in purebliss of such a feeling of fullness, (Y/N) allowed another mewl to echo pasther lips. “What a tight little thing youare” he lewdly groaned against the shell of her ear, causing her to squirmat his words.

Soon enough, the sound of Duncan’s thighs harshly slapping against the (Y/H/C)’sass filled the room as he outset his thrusts, quick and surprisingly languid. “Don’t think I’ve ever been fucked so good”(Y/N) gasped once the brunette found the angle delivering his guest with theright amount of pressure. “That’s because I’m not one of your boys,darling.” Duncan groaned back, lips latching against her neck, covering itwith sloppy trails of wet kisses. Each and every strokes of the flushed head ofhis cock caused her moan to break louder and louder through her chest, onlyencouraging his hips to move quicker into her cunt.

Writhing and moaning between warm pants, (Y/N) felt the familiarcoil twist inside of her belly, her walls now clamping desperately aroundDuncan’s girth before whimpering. “Harder,please” her voice desperately begged, the softness of her voice only pushingthe man to oblige, delivering hard and sharp thrust between her thighs, cocktwitching as he felt his orgasm creep up on him too.

A grunt past his lips with every one of his moves, quicklymorphing into moans. Heavily quivering against his waist, (Y/N)’s thighsclamped on him whilst her walls clenched and gripped at his shaft, finallypushed over the edge of her climax.The trembling of her cunt against his shaft induced Duncan’s own orgasm,allowing himself to release hot ropes of his sticky cum to paint the delicatewalls he had just been fucking so hard. With a handful of sloppy thrusts, thebrunette stilled above the frame of the woman as she pulled him close to herchest, still catching their breaths.

“I think I changed mymind about the bed” she teased, a mischievous smirk pulled across herfeatures. A playful look was exchanged before he could chuckle. “Well, darling, you make me feel like I’m 25again.”

______________________________________________________________

Babes squad: @langdxn, @littlegirlsdontplaynice, @moonanonwriting, @hecohansen31,  @blakewaterxx,  @antichristfern, @littledemondani, @fckinsupreme, @wroteclassicaly & @leatherduncan

[80sfern]

okay so not to be cliche but like. think older!duncan in an unhappy marriage, leading towards a divorce, him & his wife hire a new maid? nanny? chef? whatever u think and she’s like freshly out of college or still in it OOP and one day its just them two in the house cause the wife is out of town??

so uhh i’m real high rn and i have given up on capitalization. so i’ll probably edit this tmrw but for now here you go babe

imagine you’re his wife’s personal assistant and you’ve always been attracted to duncan, ever since you met him. she’s going on a weekend trip for a charity event and you’re supposed to have the weekend off but last minute she calls and says she left her gala outfit in her closet and that you have to go get it and fly it to her, promises she’ll give you a hefty bonus for it next week and you know she’ll follow through so you say yes.

it’s late friday night when you get to their house and let yourself in with your keys. your boss called and notified him you’d be picking her dress up and not to be alarmed when you get there. from the closet, you can hear the shower running in the master bathroom. you can’t help but admire the size of her closet, it’s the size of your tiny apartment bedroom. when you find the gala dress, hung and wrapped from the designer herself, the silk black vera wang dress hangs delicately on the hanger.

you slowly unzip the bag to reveal the dress fully, a soft gasp leaving your lips at the sight of the gown. it costs as much as a months rent at your place, it’s what you’re working for. you slowly slide your shoes off, stepping out of the heel and tug the zipper on your dress, kicking it away from your feet. your fingers trail up the expensive fabric as you slide it off the velvet hanger. you can’t stop yourself as you dress yourself in her gown, pretend for a little while that this is your dress.

you’re admiring your reflection in the mirror that lines the wall, your hands pinning your hair up from your face. the sound of a door opening startles you out of your trance and you quickly realize duncan’s out of the shower. you rush to take off the dress while trying not to damage it at the same time. your hands shake as you try and put the dress on the hanger and zip the bag, the bottom of the zipper snagging the fabric in your flurry. you’re trying not to cry as you struggle to fix the zipper and stay quiet so duncan doesn’t walk in on you half naked crying over a zipper.

you manage to fix the dress and put on your clothes before you walk out, gown and shoes in hand as you open the closet door. your mouth dries at the sight in front of you; Duncan hot and wet on the bed, stark naked with his cock in his hand. he doesn’t even flinch when you gasp, a low moan falling from his lips as he turns his head to look at you. a low smirk takes over his lips as he watches you stare at him.

realization hits you a moment later, “i-i’m sorry mr. shepherd i- i should go.” you avoid looking at him as you walk past, ignoring the wetness building between your thighs. as you’re pulling the door open, duncan‘s hand comes down on the door in front of you, pushing it shut.

the dress and shoes slip from your shaky hands as he steps closer, “i saw you honey, in her dress. did you like it?” you whimper at his words, terrified of where he’s going with this, and slowly nod. “why don’t you put it back on for me. i won’t tell if you won’t” he murmers as his free hand trails up your side.

send me (older!duncan) blurbs

[taehyungsgrowl]

The idea of Older!Duncan having this pretty summer house at this exclusive beach is almost canon. So in his mid life crisis he bought a boat (bc ofc Duncan knows how to sail) and takes his sugar babies sailing like all the time, having some romantic and sexy times under the sky (plus points of Jim tries to teach him how to surf, more plus points if y/n records the whole thing in her phone) Duncan LOVES every second of it because hes with the people he adores -drunk anon

amiga! sorry it’s taken me bit of time to get to this, but after our earlier convo of Duncan x Jim & Y/N as his sugar babies feat. roleplaying - I was reinspired. Sorry if I went a little off the request + idk anything about surfing lmfao hope you enjoy babe!

Duncan would have multiple properties throughout the country; spacious modern condos for when he was in the city, quiet mountain side ranches that we swore he’d have the time to visit, but he never did, but his favorite was his beach front summer house.

White driftwood side panels complimented by deep navy accents on the window sills, elevated porch with white wood encompassing the stairs leading to the door; it was gorgeous (Better Home and Gardens had featured it on the cover last season.)

And the view. The view was worth the hefty price tag Duncan dished out. Located on a private beach front, the ocean was but a mere few feet away. He hadn’t met his surfer boy when he purchased the house, but now it all made sense to him.

-

“You guys are gonna love it. It’s right on the beach. Nice, quiet, secluded.” Duncan drove with one hand turning into the private lot that led them closer to his house.

Jim was on the edge of the backseat, his face looking over Duncan’s shoulder. Both Y/N and Duncan could feel the excitement radiating off of him; he was like a kid on Christmas morning.

“I, for one, was ready to get out of the city.” Y/N yawned, propping her feet up on the dashboard.

“I think we all needed it, love.” Duncan smiled over at her.

Jim’s chin rested on Duncan’s shoulder watching the curvy turns in the road, anxious to see even the slightest glance of an open body of water. It had been too long since he’d been in his element. He missed salty hair, tan skin, and the feeling of sand between his toes.

After what felt like an eternal car ride they arrived at Duncan’s (what would now be theirs) summer home.

Jim and Duncan carried the bags in for Y/N. Jim could hardly turn his attention away from the sea.

Jim and Y/N rushed to the beach like a couple of kids after being settled in. Duncan following behind, carrying a couple of towels. He wore black swimming trunks and a dark pair of sunglasses; Duncan found a spot on the sand to lay and tan while Jim and Y/N hurried into the water.

He watched them from behind his dark shades; Jim in his tiny yellow trunks almost made him salivate in addition to watching Y/N in a white string piece. He was only waiting for the right time to pull him to his side to ravish them.

“Dunc!” Y/N called out, a hand shielding her face from the sun, “come join -” she was cut off by Jim grabbing her waist and playfully tossing her back into the water.

“Jim!” she squealed, “you little shit!” laughter erupted as they splashed each other.

They eventually tired and joined Duncan out on his towel. They each laid their heads on his tummy, earning them a groan from him. The three enjoying the warm sun on their skin, listening to the crashing sounds of waves.

It wasn’t until Duncan heard Jim snoring softly that he chuckled and brought them back to the house.

Their first night was spent sitting on the porch drinking chilled white wine.

Y/N sat in Duncan’s lap pointing out the constellations in the sky; something they couldn’t easily do in the city.

Jim nestled himself in between Duncan’s legs so Y/N could play with his hair. Simply being surrounded by his loved ones watching the darkening ocean made him happy.

Y/N smiled proudly as Jim rambled on and on about how he was going to teach Duncan to surf.

“No baby..” he shook his head, “I’d rather just watch you do it.” his nose drawing a line down Y/N’s jaw.

Jim’s blue eyes peered up, “Please, daddy.” his smirk said he knew exactly what he was doing by using that word. It made Duncan go crazy for it. And if he were being honest there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for these two.

At the break of dawn Jim was up and nibbling on Duncan’s earlobe, “Duncan..” he’d whine quietly, “C’mon..”

Duncan only pulled Jim back into bed, holding him firmly into his chest; Y/N snoring peacefully besides them.

“Shh, baby.. Don’t wanna wake up our princess yet.” the tip of his nose would brush Jim’s.

“Why don’t we just.” he pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “sleep,” another kiss, “in..” his tongue slipping in Jim’s mouth.

Surfing momentarily forgotten, Jim melted into Duncan’s kiss before falling asleep on his chest again.

–

Jim rested his hand on the small of Duncan’s back while he laid tummy down on the surfboard. “Just move your arms.” he laughed, guiding Duncan further into the water.

Y/N couldn’t help but find the interaction so endearing. Reaching for the polaroid in her beach bag she snapped pictures of her boys playing in the water.

Jim was enjoying being able to teach Duncan something. With Duncan being much older than both Y/N and him, the slight power rush of teaching the older man something filled his mind with an infinite amount of ideas.

Water dripped from their hair and bodies as they finally made their way out of the water. The glared at Y/N who sat pretty on her beach towel giggling at the pictures she’d taken.

Exchanging a look between the two of them, they gently tackled her, taking the pictures out of her hands and covering her in kisses.

“What’s so funny, princess?” Duncan spoke into her neck, “Daddy can’t surf quite as well as Jimmy?”

Jim laughed, nuzzling his face into her.

Trading another look and silently nodding -  Duncan scooped her up and ran into the water with her. She squealed and kicked her legs, “sorry sorry sorry!” she pleaded in between fits of laughter.

Duncan felt like his summer house finally became a home. Full a life and laughter with his babies.

Visits to the beach were going to become a routine for the three.

[hecohansen31]

Not Of Age: (Duncan Shepherd+Reader)

A/N: Hello there, lovelies!

How was everything?

I am a bit stressed out for various thing, but also… you know what would help a lot? FEEDBACK (please if you have a minute of your time spare it to either heart this fic, comment on it, or reblog it, only if you liked it, obviously) (+you are always welcome to tell me what went wrong, what went right, in either my messages or in my asks, I am always happy to get one so…).

Also this is all inspired to something that happened to me (no I sadly don’t know any Duncan Shepherds in real life), since I get a lot mistaked for younger than I actually am (and I know it might sound strange but it is something I am insecure about, because people don’t take you seriously).

(Plus: one of my photos of the collage is actually mine, because I am wearing the dress, I described in the fic, so you can see it better+I don’t know I love the way that dress is one me…so) (Also i censored my face, because I was without make-up+I was wearing a very obnoxious flower crown).

Plus, before this gets controversial, Duncan in this fic is not interested into Reader because she is younger and might not seem of age, but he is more attracted to her “potrayal of youth”.

As always… I talk too much so I shall leave you to appreciating the fanfiction (let me know if you want a sequel because I mgiht be working on something right now!).

SUMMARY: You don’t show your age, and this got you in so much troubles, such as the one you got into after an unexpected visit on a Saturday’s morning, in an extra meeting with Duncan Shepherd

WORDS: 2,3 K.

WARNINGS: Just Duncan being flirty, and mostly kissing (no smut), also Older! Man in a relationship with a younger girl!

She had always been the girl, who looked much younger than her true age .

Both for her terrible childish manners (not only she still had the that naivety which was only seen in children, but also a brattish character that sometimes got her in trouble, mostly in relationships) both for the fact that her appearance was juvenile and much more belonging to a teen than an actually woman, who was 25 years old, which prompted many awkward and weird situations.

Such as the typical bar patron who asked her ID after she ordered alcohol, alongside a few of her partners on internet picking her up just because she looked much younger or mumbling something as “are you legal?”, when they saw her.

And although many people thought that it was an advantage, it was something she personally found annoying, mostly when people reminded her of it as it meant she was somehow shallow and not worthy of being taken seriously.

Many of her friends had also by now a kid on the way and were already married (although some settled for the first one that came through the window and it showed), so being the only single friend, not only sucked, but meant that apparently she was less trust worthy than a pregnant woman, alongside the fact that she didn’t seem to belong at all whenever a wedding was mentioned or a baby shower, and she just stared at the wall till they all giggled together, joining her friends there.

That day she seemed young not only because she wasn’t wearing her usual heavy make-up, which helped a lot with making her feel not only more confident but also a few years older, but she was dressed in a pretty sundress she had wanted to wear to the typical brunch her friends had on the first day of summer, setting themselves in a park in order to talk a bit.

The sundress was a perfect solution for the warm weather which coated her body in the form of sweat; but also she honestly loved the way the dress fit on her body, giving her a pretty hourglass figure, with its 50’s style..

She had bought the dress something like ten years ago, it had been her first dress ever, and although it was a bit ruined by the excessive washing she still felt comforted by wearing it and it still looked pretty amazing: its organza skirt bore a flowery pattern, her favorite!

She hadn’t worn make-up, stopped by the terrible hotness of the day, choosing to hide herself from the eyes of her friends and the sun with sunglasses and a straw hat, brought back from a very old journey, but which gave her a “Heiress on Vacation” kind of look.

The last touch of the look would have been sandals, but she had to go for sneaker since her boss called her at work for an emergency reunion, ruining her entire day of the brunch.

She hadn’t had enough time to change into something more “work appropriate” so she had just to go with her sundress and sneakers, hoping nobody would notice the terrible match.

The hat had been gently discarded to the secretary, meanwhile she “helloed” her and her boss made her a sign to move onto her office quickly, where she plumped down on her turning chair and checked into a mirror the state of her hair, after she had walked (more like ran) to work, sweating like a pig, (to hide it, she applied a generous amount of the extra-deodorant she had in her office for emergency such as this one).

She knew nothing about what she was supposed to be expecting.

Her boss had just mumbled something about “a very important client cancelling a meeting and asking for another on Saturday morning” when she wasn’t supposed to be working, but her boss had asked for a favor, alongside a promise of an extra on her paycheck to take the job.

“It will only last an hour maximum, I just need you to make him sign the documents and nobody is answering me…” because the offices were supposed to be closed on Saturday, and knowing this no clients were allowed in the building on Saturday…. alongside the fact that many people at 8 A.M. of Saturday were still sleeping with their phones off, meanwhile she had had to wake up, since not only she had had to get ready but the park for the brunch was two hours away from her.

“Ok… I will take it, but please… sign it as extra-work” she had mumbled, before sending her friends a message on how she would be sadly missing at least the first part of the brunch and to leave her something to eat, since she would come an hour later than she had programmed.

And maybe even more…

Because after what seemed like half an hour after the appointment had been set, she stilll saw nobody and she had even tried to ask the secretary (also extraordinarily there) if she had known something about the “mysterious man”, just to get a shake of head and a whisper on how much she hated that job (on which she agreed).

She was halfway through painting her nails, the one she had accidentally scratched on her way to the job, when she heard a knock on her door, surprising her enough that she almost painted her dress of the same teal color of her nail polish.

She mumbled a “please enter”, meanwhile she meticulously hid the nail polish’s bottle and breathed hot air on her nails to get them to dry quicker, not wanting to leave signs on the poor man’s hand.

And meanwhile she did all this, a man walked in her office, a very handsome and known man, whom she knew because of all the “Vanity Fair” ’s covers her boss had in her office, practically worshipping the self-made man, Duncan Shepherd had become after his exit from jail.

And not only did he look better in reality than on magazine cover, but he looked at her with two of the prettiest eyes she had even seen, preying on her as if she was some kind of water in a sandy desert.

She felt immediately the bush rising to her face, regretting not having taken a jacket with her, leaving her cleavage exposed since the dress had a deep “v” neck, which prompted a lot of skin to be shown and although it was pretty breathy for the summer, it didn’t mean that it was appropriate for the workplace.

Although to be stared like that by such a powerful man…

It wasn’t the “I want to make you feel like a piece of meat” stare so many frat boys gave her, but it was the “I will have you on your desk in five minutes, if you are interested”.

-Ehm… I think I have the wrong office, I was looking for Mrs (L/N)- he mumbled, thinking her to be the wrong person, but she just mumbled a shy “you are in the right place”.

-… I am Mrs (L/N), but you may call me (Y/N)- you knew it was highly unprofessional to share your name with a client, mostly somebody who was here just to sign but you tried to make it all seem a bit more relaxed, more for yourself than for him, who would look at ease even in a Nordic climate -I am sorry for my inappropriate state, this meeting was scheduled at last minute and I was on my way to a friendly brunch-.

-I am extremely sorry for the meeting at this hour and day, but I had a problem with the scheduled appointment, and I wouldn’t be back in America till a month… so…-.

-Don’t worry, Mr Shepherd, I am more than happy to make an exception for you- she didn’t mean to make it sound so flirty, mostly because she wasn’t used to try her luck with guys like him, not to talk about the fact that her childish naivety scared away boys, but this one, stayed, interested, staring at her.

-Well thank you very much, then- he mumbled, matching her flirty tone, meanwhile coming nearer, where she showed him the chair, raising up and showing a bit of her legs, which made him lower his gaze on them, and she faked not noticing although she raised a bit on her toes to show much more -… give me a pen and I will be out of your hair soon-.

He smiled brightly at her sudden goofy attempt to grab a pen, just to grasp simply air, making an awkward figure, to which he giggled, till she offered the pen, and moved the contract for their agency in his hands, meanwhile their hands bumped just a bit together, electricity shooting through her veins.

She even lowered herself a bit, the cleavage appearing more evident and he caught it with his eyes as they lowered upon the papers, meanwhile she simply dropped on her elbows and her ass shot up, which got her in a very explicit position.

He read the papers, or at least appeared to be reading those chewing the pen, before setting it down and smile at her as he caught her looking at him, nibbling her bottom lip.

-I didn’t think that you were Mrs (L/N) because you seem so much younger- he mumbled, taking time, clearly, meanwhile she settled swiftly back a bit, embarrassed by how freely she had acted with him, although he had given her clear indications he was into her and was trying his best to flirt her up.

But he was still a client till he walked outside the door.

-Oh, believe me but a lot of people think the same- she giggled, trying to breathe out her embarrassment.

-… it isn’t a bad thing- he mumbled, meanwhile looking at her and smiling at her flushed cheeks -… I wish I looked younger! People nowadays ask me if I need glasses to see-.

She laughed heartedly, meanwhile he looked at her through his lashes as if to say he was serious.

-You look amazing, Mr Shepherd- this got him to puff his chest even further almost as a proud bird, which got a genuine smile from her -… and I mean it is nice to know you can somehow age slower, but also… a lot of people tend not to take you seriously if you don’t look mature enough, plus, guys are not interested into younglings…-.

This got her a shocked look from him, which changed swiftly in an outraged look.

-… boys tend to have that kind of thoughts- he mumbled, shooting her a serious glance, that went through her entire body -…men don’t-.

And he was a man, probably ten years her senior, although she had heard he was much older than what he seemed with a pendant for a new girl on his arm each week, much younger than him, so she knew what was going on, although she was not his usual supermodel.

-Thank you, I will set my mind onto dating only men from now on- she mumbled, shyly, before tapping at the paper, to remind him what was going on, shooting him a knowing look; she couldn’t because of so many reasons, although she wanted.

-You are very welcome- he muttered, before setting a last glance on her body and swiftly signing the paper -Then is it done? -.

-It is- she replied, moving to accompany him to the door, as a way to let him even further know that she sadly couldn’t.

-Then we are not a client and a professional, right? – he asked.

And with her typical childish naivety, not fully understanding his motives she answered.

-… yes-.

And he swiftly closed the door, behind them, before pulling her against the door with a sudden roughness she found herself liking, and left her legs trembling, before diving on her lips, with his, with much more gentleness than the push against the door, a bit dipping her as they did in the movies.

He was far gentler than what he had promised her with the “door movement”, getting her wondering what would come next… a kiss or a slap…

But he was careful with her now, probably after the yelp of pain he got from having pushed her back against the hard wood, before pushing her towards another kind of “hard wood”, much more human.

And this got a moan of pleasure transferred from her mouth to his, opening herself to his tongue and a languid caress from it, before it moved back to trace, as if to know them by heart, her lips.

When he separated himself from her, much more due to the lack of air than because he wanted to, he still kept her against him.

Her sundress had risen up a bit, and now her thighs were even more exposed, meanwhile her cleavage was widened up by the rushed tries and friction of her dress against his crisp elegant shirt, rigorously back, whereas hers was beige, matching their respective personalities.

He moved his eyes from the ground to her face, just to cup it and keeping the stare till their lips were near each other and then he closed them, as she did, but nothing but dry air went through them and when she opened them he had disappeared, which left her to wonder whether or not something had happened, till she saw the signed paper and felt the little ticket hidden in the cleavage of her dress, with an address from an hotel in Italy written on it and a number on the other side.

She wondered about what it meant, why her and how he managed to slip it in her dress without knowing why…

But now apparently she had a way to find it all out.

[the-hopeless-haze]

Oh, My Precious Whore

A/N: didn’t really think I’d ever be posting fic on here again… but I am tired and need a distraction so… have this as a treat

Pairing: Claire Underwood x f!reader, implied Duncan Shepherd x f!reader

CW: derogatory pet names, implied smut (will not occur in full until the next part)

Description: idk this is just pure filth bc there’s a severe lack of f!reader fic and… Robin Wright is hot af. Also had to throw in some Duncan in there bc I love Cody Fern

Maybe you should feel worse right now about what you’re doing, but you don’t.

You, at the very least, should feel scared. The Underwoods, or well, Underwood... she was a powerful woman and if you stepped a millimeter out of place your life was likely in danger. Or so they said. Your in-laws were wary of her, you know, but she was wary of them, too. You think. She’s a difficult woman to read.

The rumors concerning the crimes her late husband supposedly committed are lengthy and convoluted, but you suspect they hold some truth to them. Most rumors usually aren’t based totally in fiction. Her husband was truly a ruthless motherfucker. Claire... Claire doesn’t seem to be ruthless. Nor does she seem to be what you would describe as a motherfucker.

No, she’s a cold hearted bitch. A bitter, sociopathic cunt.

But you never wanted what was good for you.

Sometimes, you swear you love Duncan and you wish it was easier to convince yourself. He a good husband, all things considered. Perhaps a little too focused on work, but... he treats you well to make up for it. He is loyal to a fault, if anyone ever was. You met him through a friend, and though it makes you feel guilty you used him in a vain attempt to get closer to Annette.

But Annette didn’t swing your way, as she told you in not so many words. Or, rather, she said, “Just be a good pet and marry my son. You on his arm will do well for everyone all around. Your dalliances on the side are no one’s business as long as you keep them secret enough that not even Duncan finds out.”

So you agreed, and accepted his proposal you figured she no doubt hounded him into. It’s not so much that you don’t like men, you do, and Duncan is such an attractive man, and he’s a thorough lover... it’s just you suppose you have a preference for women. Older women. You used to joke in high school that you wanted to be a high-end escort for rich older women getting away from their CEO husbands for the weekend.

But your parents would have never approved of that plan. So you went to law school instead. Which was fine. You make decent money without Duncan, but with him you’re somewhat of a young, hot power couple. You’re not really interested in policy the way his family is - you just like ingratiating yourself amongst these people with influence. You get off on brushing shoulders with the powerful. Parties don’t mean much to you. Everyone is truly an evil son of a bitch, no matter what they say when the cameras are on. No one cares about progress, not unless it’s self-serving.

The first time you met Claire, you thought you might die. She barely gave Duncan a second glance but you? She stood and chatted with you about your latest case your firm had taken - how she knew about it among all the other things on her mind, you don’t know - but it was a pleasant conversation, all things considered. You know her and Annette used to be close. You wonder how much Claire does know about you.

You know you can’t trust her. At all.

But after that incident, Duncan grinned and shook his head. “Wouldn’t want to give credence to those rumors. She might have it out for you.”

“Rumors?” You asked, panicking already. Did he know?

“That Claire is a lesbian. It’s been floating around some circles, that that’s why she wasn’t truly upset at her husband’s death, that that’s why she’s pushing so hard for female rights. It’s interesting. It is the first time I met her, but having done so it wouldn’t entirely surprise me.”

You can tell. That woman probably isn’t a lesbian, or if she is, she’s very good at utilizing her charm to make it seem as though she’s not. If anything, you’d peg her as asexual. She uses sex as a weapon. Fair enough. You’ve seen even weaker women feel the need to use it.

You wonder if she’s ever had sex purely for herself and not for manipulation purposes.

You wonder if she could even do that. You reckon you don’t really care if you found out the hard way.

It’s a few weeks later that you receive a message stating the President required your audience. And you know you should tell Annette, or Duncan at the very least, but you don’t. You know you shouldn’t show up at all. But Annette said to keep your dalliances secret. So secret they will stay.

“How loyal are you to the Shepherds?” Claire asks when you arrive. Straight to the point. Good.

“As loyal as I have to appear,” you tell her.

Claire smiles a little. “Why did you marry Duncan? He doesn’t seem quite your type.”

“And what do you presume my type is?”

“Perhaps more feminine. Older.”

“Mm. And what is your type, Ms President?”

“Why did you marry him? Did Annette threaten to out you?” she repeats.

“Not in so many words,” you say.

“Hmm. Interesting. He has no idea, I presume?”

“Why did you call me here?” you ask, your anxiety getting the better of you.

“I need information on the Shepherds. And I believe I have something you’d want in return.”

Your head starts spinning, but no, spinning is an understatement. It’s fucking doing somersaults. You cannot believe what she’s proposing.

“You want to prostitute yourself to me for information?”

And Claire does the last thing you ever expected the bitch to do. She walks across the room and slaps you across the face. Hard enough to sting, but not as hard as you bet she could. You feel the cold metal of her wedding ring press against your cheek as she grabs your chin, her cold blue eyes piercing through to your soul. “Don’t you dare fucking accuse the president of the United States of debasement, and don’t ever assume you have the upper hand.”

“Claire—“

“Are we on first name basis, slut?” she asks, her hand slithering down to your throat. Holy shit, you think. This bitch might actually fucking kill me. You think you’d care more if this wasn’t possibly the hottest thing that ever happened to you. “I didn’t think so. Now. What are your loyalties? Who are you closest to?”

“Duncan, obviously. Annette lets her guard down around me because she likes that I think she’s hot, but she still doesn’t like me. Bill and I don’t get along.”

“Interesting. How much does Duncan know?”

“I know more than Duncan.”

“Really, now? Are you just saying that? Because if you don’t prove to be useful...”

“What? You’ll kill me?”

Claire laughs. “No, you’re much more fun to me alive. But tell me… do you know where Duncan came from?”

“I mean, I truly don’t know how Annette’s cunt could birth anything, given how much of a bitch she is, but…”

Claire smiles. “Yes. Much more fun alive. Duncan is not her child.”

“Well, that’s a relief I don’t have any chance of keeping the Shepherd bloodline alive,” you snicker. “Where did he come from, then?”

“I’ll tell you… in time. But you have to tell him, too. In front of Annette and Bill. I want them all to know.”

“They’ll skin me alive if they knew I was here.”

“Do you want to fuck me or not? These are my terms.”

“So that is why I’m here?”

She only smirks at you, the wrinkles around her blue eyes crinkling as she does. “Your attraction to me is far more interesting than... well, men are pigs, right? I’m sure you are well aware. But you, you look at me like you want to fuck me, sure, but you also know your place. You respect me, even if you try to talk back. Men don’t know any better.”

“Have you ever slept with a woman before?”

She only smiles. “Does it matter?”

“Just wanted to know if there was credence to the rumors.”

“Rumors? You’re quite bold. I’m the one with my hand...wrapped around your throat.”

“It’d be pretty messy for you if you killed me right now,” you retort, wincing and rubbing your legs together as she increases the pressure on your neck.

“You’ll learn not to talk back, whore. To think you’re a married woman...”

“Yeah? Did you hold your marriage sacrosanct?”

There’s that smile again. She’s beautiful, ethereal, but there’s something so inhumane about the way her lips move upward to smirk at you. Maybe you should learn to shut your mouth, but you always were a brat. Besides, it’s more fun this way.

“I did.”

“Liar,” you accuse, smirking at her as you do, and she lets go of your throat and before you can miss the feeling too much she slaps your face again, the right cheek this time, much harder than the first time. You let out a startled, strangled moan on impulse, stumbling back a little against the wall.

“Oh, did that hurt?” she coos at you condescendingly, fixing a piece of your hair that fell out of place as you stand back up, pressing your back flat against the wall for stability. Claire crosses her arms and stands directly in front of you.

“I can take it. I can take more than that,” you say boldly.

“Oh? What else do you like, slut?”

“You name it, I’m game.”

“Anything? Handcuffs? Whips? Knives?”

You nod at everything she comes up with. Jesus, you would let this woman carve out your heart if she wanted it.

“If I make you bleed?”

“Better.”

“Interesting. Does Duncan play these little games with you?”

You laugh. “No.”

“You only want a woman to do these things to you?”

“Precisely. Are you kinky, Madam President?”

“Whatever my partner requires... I make certain I provide.”

“But what do you want?”

“I’m a hard woman to please.”

“Oh. Is that the kind way of saying Frank wasn’t good in bed?” you ask, feigning sympathy. She only smirks again. “I’m surprised you didn’t slap me for that. He must have really been awful.”

“You think you could do better?”

“Women do everything better,” you laugh, earning perhaps the only genuine smile you’ve gotten from this woman the whole time. “That’s why I wanted to know if you’ve been with a woman...”

“No. But I’ve thought about it. Never had a woman as interested as you.”

“I find that very hard to believe. Maybe you just never noticed. What gave it away?” You’re aching for her to touch you again, give you anything, even pain, but she stands still in front of you.

“I can just tell. Besides, I was interested to meet you. You’re the Shepherd’s weak link. I knew Annette didn’t vet you carefully enough.”

“Are you saying me being gay is an issue?”

“Are you so naive to think it wouldn’t be, given the state of this country?” she retorts. “But that’s not all. I can tell you don’t like them. I could tell you were easy... on more than one account.”

You roll your eyes. “I fucking hate Bill. I mean it’s awful to say, he’s not doing well physically, but he’s just made life a living hell for me.”

“Why?” she asks, tilting her head to the side.

“I don’t know. Maybe he hates gay people. Maybe he hates women. Both. Don’t know.”

“So everyone knows but Duncan? Funny how he’s kept out of all the good family secrets that concern him.”

You sigh. “See, sexuality’s a funny thing. I like Duncan. I do. And sometimes sex with him is good if not great. He’s a good partner. But I just prefer women.”

“Must be nice to have it figured out. Your generation did have it easier.”

You look at her questioningly. You never thought someone like her was human enough to struggle with such a thing, but perhaps that’s an unfair assessment.

Or she’s playing you.

Still. She’d have to be quite a good player - not that you should underestimate her skill - to talk about something as personal as her struggles with sexuality. Straight people just don’t get it. Would she really be this easily well versed if it was a game?

“There’s still a long ways to go,” you say.

“I intend to rectify that.”

“Of course you do.”

Her eyes narrow at you and she tilts her head. “Do you think I should be doing better?”

“Yeah. Come out, for starters.”

“Says the woman in a sham marriage.”

“It’s not a sham. I love Duncan,” you protest.

“Then why are you here, selling out his family just for a chance to fuck me? You’re not much better than I am.”

“I don’t think I’ve told you anything yet. Besides. It’s not his real family… as you say.”

“No. You haven’t told me anything I didn’t already know. But I haven’t fucked you yet either, have I?”

“Touché.”

“Come over here,” she beckons, leaning against the desk and once again it strikes you where you are - the fucking Oval Office. Are you seriously going to have sex in the Oval Office? Conservatives would be disgusted by this (although it wouldn’t be the first time this office was defiled). “Don’t look so scared now. You can’t back out at this point.”

You nod, trying not to look as nervous as you feel and walk the few steps over to her, your legs inches from hers. God, you’re practically dying from the anticipation alone.

“Does Duncan ever tell you how beautiful you are?” She asks. You’re absolutely shellshocked. There’s no trace of sarcasm in her voice.

“Sometimes,” you murmur.

“Just like men to not appreciate what they have.”

“Mm. Frank didn’t appreciate you, Claire? Didn’t make you feel good? I would. If you were my wife I’d make you come every fucking day,” you say, and boldly you decide to punctuate that statement by pressing your lips to hers.

Mistake. Or maybe not, you don’t know.

Her hands tangle in your hair and you feel her stand up, press against you firmly before backing you into the desk, pushing you onto it until your back is flat on the wood, and she’s hovering over you, her lips ghosting yours.

“I’m a hard woman to please,” she reiterates and you realize she never fucking lost her breath while you feel like the wind was knocked out of you. “I’m ambivalent about attention in general. But look at you, whore. You crave it, don’t you? Just want someone to tell you that you’re a good girl... oh, look at you squeeze your thighs together. Are you wet for me, slut?”

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” You ask, spreading your legs slightly for her.

She shakes her head, her straight platinum locks shifting as she does so, brushing against your face. “See? You’re not a good girl. You’re a dirty filthy whore and you just don’t know when to shut that whore mouth or close your fucking legs.”

You stay silent - you’re not sure what to do now. Do you antagonize her, push her further, see if it will rile her up again? Or do you try and kiss her again?

Claire has other ideas. “Beg,” she hisses in your ear. “Get down on your knees and beg for me.”

—- and I am evil and ending it there! Plz let me know if I should continue this!

[divine-angel-langdon]

My Moodboards

Jim Mason

Jim Mason

Camping with older!Jim Mason

Jim Mason x mermaid!reader

honeymoon with jim mason

spending a day at the ocean with jim mason

Xavier Plympton

Xavier Plympton Neon Lights

Xavier Plympton Neon Lights 2

Duncan Shepherd

Going on a luxury vacation with Duncan Shepherd

Waking up in Paris with Duncan Shepherd

duncan shepherd academia aesthetic

werewolf!duncan shepherd 

memento mori inspired

Michael Langdon

Vampire Michael Langdon

Michael Langdon Academia aesthetic

Michael Langdon Blood Ritual

honeymoon with michael langdon

punk grunge michael langdon

michael + the details

Valiant Thor

Valiant Thor 

More coming soon! :) requests open!!!!!

[eclipsedpascal]

🌹🥺

“Sweetheart, as much as I’d love to pound you into the mattress right now, i’ve spent far too long planning our honeymoon just to let your first time go to waste in a crapy hotel like this one. And i’d prefer if once we got there you weren’t too tired out for the night I have planned; Do you understand?” You nodded at him in complete silence, shocked at his bluntness and slightly disappointed he wouldn’t be taking you on your wedding night like you had hoped.

ahh this still needs some editing, but this is from my Older!60s!Duncan x Virgin!Reader honeymoon thing hehe:))💗

[shesclearlya3]

Dancing With a Stranger P.1

@iits-mikha asked: n a recent interview they asked Cody if he could have the opportunity to play another character he would had chosen to be the Countess, So my request is this: an AU where old!Michael where he’s not the antichrist but is the owner of the Hotel Cortez, please!! 

I’m really nervous about this since it’s my first time writing for our boi Michael. I hope I delivered! I decided to make Michael 34 as, I am not too familiar with the Older!tag, but this seemed like a popular range.

pairing: Older!Michael x Reader

word count: 1,973

warnings: au!, language, seductive-boi, there will be a 2nd part!

part 2

October 29th, 2019

You stood next to your best friend, Winter Anderson, as you both stared up at the Hotel Cortez. You two were going to spend the next few days at Halloween Horror Nights, and this was the only hotel you two could afford. Universal was expensive, plus you knew you'd only be here to sleep, that's it.

"Are you ready, you seem kind of nervous," Winter asked, raising a manicured eyebrow at you. You smiled, nodding while tightening your grip on your suitcase.

"I'm fine, we can go inside," you said. You followed Winter into the hotel, gaping at the wonderous exterior. You had never seen so much red in your life. The lobby was huge, and you were slightly taken aback at how empty it was. 

You stopped at the front desk, peering around it. An older, slightly plump woman sat in the chair, a worn-out romance novel in her hands. She was so entranced in the book that she didn't notice your arrival. 

"Excuse me?" Winter piped up.

"OH!" she gasped, a hand flying to her chest. It startled you, but you managed to contain the laugh that bubbled in your throat. "I apologize, I didn't- yeah," she laughed, standing up. "I'm Iris, can I have the name for your reservation?" 

"Anderson. Winter Anderson," 

Iris flipped open a folder, running a finger down the names before stopping. "There you are," she whispered. You frowned, wondering why they didn't just use computers like other hotels did. Iris reached behind her, grabbing a key from the shelf behind her. She handed it to you.

"Let me show you to your room," she said, smiling. You liked to see the good in people, but there was something off about the look in her eyes. Winter seemed to have gotten the same vibe because she kept pace with you instead. 

The elevator ride to the fifth floor was claustrophobic. You tugged at the neck of your shirt, praying for the moment you and Winter were alone. Maybe you'd spend the night out instead of catching up on sleep, you had to be up early for your flight here from Michigan. 

The doors slowly opened, before Iris led you down just a few doors. "Room 537," she said, before unlocking the door. She gestured for you guys to go first, and you smiled and thanked her.

The room was nothing too special, but you get what you paid for. Since you and Winter wanted to stretch your money as much as possible, you settled on sharing a bed. Winter set her stuff down, as Iris mentioned some of the things the hotel offered, including a bar downstairs.

"What brings you two lovely ladies to Los Angeles?" Iris asked kindly, and you felt your nerves from earlier slowly disapparate. 

"We're going to Universal Studios, we're ready to get our asses scared, right, y/n?" Winter looked at you eagerly. 

"Of course! Have you been there, by chance?" you asked Iris. 

"Oh, years ago, I took my son Donovan," Iris exclaimed, seeming to be truly happy for the short length of time you knew her. "I'm sure lots have changed since then..." 

Awkward silence.

"Well, I must get back to the front desk. If there's anything you two need, give us a call," Iris said, already turning towards the door. She set your room keys on the table, then she was gone. 

You and Winter spent the next hour organizing your stuff. You usually left your things in your suitcase while staying in a hotel, but since you'd be here until November 2nd, you didn't want your clothes to be wrinkled. 

"I think we should go down and get a drink, those seats on the plane were not comfortable," Winter complained as you organized your toiletries. 

You glanced at your phone, seeing it wasn't too late. You and Winter planned on getting to the park first thing in the morning. "Who is buying? NOSE-"

"-GOES!" Winter said, whirling at you with a finger to her nose. You squinted at her before you spent the next few minutes trying to touch your nose before Winter. 

Finally, you humored her and said you'd pay for drinks the first night. 

Since you both had dressed comfortably for the flight, you changed into more acceptable clothes. Your favorite jeans and an off-shoulder top. Winter tied her blonde hair up into a half-down, half-up bun, and you set on your way. 

There was only one other patron at the bar, and he didn't seem to pay you much attention. At least at first. 

A tall woman with a shaved head and makeup talked to him, her eyes lightening up at everything he said. You and Winter took the seats farthest away, not wanting to seem like you were eavesdropping. 

"Hilarious, Tristan," she gently scolded. "Hang on, my services are needed elsewhere," she laughed another time before approaching the two of you. "And who do we have here?"

"My name is Winter, and this is y/n," Winter said proudly. 

"Welcome to the Cortez, I'm Liz. Liz Taylor," she offered her hand to the both of you, and you shook it with a smile. "Now, you seem to be old enough to drink, but I need to see your ID's. I am a woman of responsibility-"

The guy named Tristan laughed aloud at the end of the table.

"Ignore him, he drinks," Liz smiled as you and Winter laid your ID's out. "Perfect, what can I get for you?" 

The last thing you wanted was to wake up with a hangover, so you kept it simple. Winter didn't have the same concern since she ordered a Screwdriver. 

Liz was very enjoyable to talk too, and eventually, Tristan felt left out. He sat at the stool next to him, and you found out they had been dating a few months now. They were totally in love, and it showed whenever they looked at each other.

"I wish somebody loved me like that," Winter sighed.

"You will find someone, love. The both of you will." Liz smiled. 

The energy in the room suddenly changed. 

Everyone else kept talking and laughing, but you could feel it. You knew it wasn't the alcohol, this drink was more juice than anything. The sound of the elevator beeping, and the doors sliding open finally piqued their interest.

"Oh boy," Liz said flatly. Tristan chugged the rest of his whiskey before looking at you. You smiled briefly, wondering why they both seemed so on edge. 

You and Winter seemed to be in a trance as a man slowly stepped out, his lean figure in perfect posture. He kept his hands behind his back, and you wondered if it was really comfortable walking like that. His hair was close to being strawberry blonde, and it reached his shoulders. This mysterious man kept his focus ahead, his gait elegant and intimidating. 

"Who is that?" Winter asked.

"That's Michael- uh, the Count?" Tristan said, stuttering when Liz shot him a warning glance. 

"What is this, Seasame Street?" Winter snorted. You couldn't help but laugh a little too loudly, but immediately stopped when Michael- the Count, turned his head in your direction. 

From the side, you could see his excellent bone structure, but it didn't prepare you for getting a good look at him. His cheekbones, his jawline, his eyes immediately drew you in. Michael stared at you for what seemed like an eternity before he broke your gaze. He continued on his way, a smirk now prominent on his lips. 

"Ooooooooh, he was looking at you," Winter teased, bringing her glass to her painted lips.

"Hush," you whispered. Tristan and Liz were still staring at each other, almost like they were having a conversation entirely in their heads. 

"Who is he again?" you questioned.

"He owns the hotel," Liz sighed. "He can be nice when he wants to be, but for the most part, he is a pain in my ass," she continued. "I can't talk shit for long, he saved my life, and Tristan's here."

"For sure, babe," Tristan hiccuped, patting the hand Liz had on the countertop. "I used to be a model, but that environment was so fucking toxic, Michael- shit! COUNT got me out of it, got me help, and here I am," he giggled, before leaning his head on your arm.

"I think that's enough for you, mister," Liz said, taking the empty glass and replacing it with water. Tristan pouted, taking a dainty sip. You and Winter watched with amusement, and you could smell his cologne. It was quite nice. 

"Do you think he'd talk to y/n?" Winter continued with her teasing, and you couldn't hide the blush on your cheeks. "I'd totally tap that if his hair was a bit shorter-"

Liz laughed, "Oh honey, he hasn't had short hair since ninety-nine, and he was a kid back then," 

You looked at her with a confused look, "Wait, how old is he?" 

"I'm thirty-four," you froze at the sound of a velvety voice. "Don't you know it's not polite to ask a man his age?" 

You and Winter shared a quick look, before slowly turning in your stools to face him. Tristan cleared his throat, taking a deep sip of water this time. 

Michael smirked at you, a glint of mischief in his eyes. You tried to laugh with him but found you couldn't make a sound. Winter was still gazing at you with a sense of excitement and an "oh shit, you're in for it now," look. 

"I uh, I'm sorry, Mr...?" 

"Langdon," he finished for you. A smirk still plastered on his face, "However, I do find it rather endearing that two complete strangers seem to fret so much about my life," he said, his eyes now sliding towards Winter, who looked away in embarrassment.

Liz had made you another drink while Michael occupied your time, making this one stronger than the first. You'd need it after this. 

"You have such great eyeshadow," Winter said randomly, "It's perfect, really compliments your face,"

Michael's lips curled at this, but he found his eyes still trained on you. You were uncomfortable under his gaze. Like most of the human population, you hated being stared at. 

"How long are you two ladies staying?" he asked. 

"We leave Saturday morning," you answered without hesitation. Michael raised his eyebrow at your confidence. He assumed you were a bit of a hermit. 

"Interesting... I'm going to extend an invitation to you, y/n," he said. You didn't bother to ask how he knew your name. "Halloween night, You're going to join me for dinner. I don't do this often, as you know," he said, directing this part to Liz.

Liz didn't say anything until he widened his eyes at her, and that's when it clicked. "Oh, yes, never does this, never," she shook her head. Michael rolled his eyes before bringing a hand to his head. You noticed the large rings adorning his fingers, wondering if you could pay off your bills with those things. 

"I dislike when people talk about me, especially strangers," he smirked at you, "I find it rather rude, wouldn't you agree?" Michael pressed, waiting for a chorus of agreements.

And of course, he got them.

"Good. I'll have Iris keep you updated, y/n," Michael's eyes ran over you before he nodded towards the others. "And don't break anything, the other ones learned the hard way."

Michael walked off, still poised as if he were meeting royalty. You remained quiet as you swirled back in your seat, taking your new drink and chugging it. Winter grinned at you. 

"Is he always like that?" you asked the couple beside you, who continued to stare at you.

"Weirdly arousing and complex? Always." Liz replied before taking a shot of Vodka. 

*if you want to be added to this taglist, you know the drill.*

[7-wonders]

I am forreal missing professor Duncan. I don’t know if you see this but we all know y/n is a clingy drunk, what if Duncan was the same and after going out with his friends shows up at readers apartment?

Stop I’m actually going to FUCKING CRY at this concept!!!

It would be unplanned; maybe some of his old D.C. buddies are in town, or it’s the Political Science professors going out after a stressful day. It’s not as if Duncan would feel obligated to tell you, either. After all, you’re most definitely not dating, and it’s only supposed to be a couple of drinks.

That’s why, when the sound of knocking on your apartment door becomes so loud that you can hear it over the music playing in your ears, you cautiously creep towards the door. You’re not sure what you’re going to do if it actually is someone with bad intentions. You can’t exactly open up the door and ask them what they’re doing, and they’ll know somebody’s home if you’re too loud. Silently peeking through the peephole, you’re dismayed at the discovery that someone’s covering it. You want to dash for your phone and call the police, but before you can, whoever’s on the other side of the door starts speaking.

“(Y/N), are you home?” The fear dissipates from your body when the voice registers as Duncan’s, but you’re confused why he’s outside your apartment at 1 a.m.

Duncan almost falls into your apartment when you open the door, having had his back propped against it. He stumbles backwards, thankful that you’re there to steady him. His hair is messy, brown locks falling into his eyes as he smiles lazily at you.

“Duncan Shepherd,” you tease, “are you drunk?”

“Possibly?” You have to stifle your laugh; he genuinely seems unsure of whether he’s drunk or not.

“How much did you have to drink tonight?”

“I don’t know, some beers, some shots.”

“Hmm, considering I’ve never known you to get drunk before, I’m guessing you’re a bit of a lightweight.”

He feigns a gasp, putting an offended hand over his chest. “I am not!”

“Just tell me that you didn’t drive here.”

“I may be drunk, but I’m not an idiot. I took an Uber here.” ‘Uber’ comes out more like ‘Uver,’ and you can’t help but laugh. Instead of getting angry, Duncan’s eyes light up.

“I love your laugh. And I love being the one to make you laugh.” You feel your cheeks heating up, but you can’t blame the man for not having a filter when he’s intoxicated.

“Did you have any water tonight, Duncan?”

“Mmm, some.” You take that to mean that he had maybe a sip, so you move to the kitchen to get him a glass as he wanders through your apartment and into your bedroom. There’s only slight panic this time at the tall, intimidatingly-handsome man seeing where you sleep, and that solely due to your lack of cleaning skills in the past week or so.

When you make your way to your room, Duncan’s already made himself comfy on your bed. You hand him his water and accept a grateful kiss before pulling his shoes off, not wanting any sticky alcohol residue to end up on your blankets.

“You’re making me nervous with the way you’re staring at me, Dunc. What’s on your mind?” You’re a little worried that he’s going to say something drastic; when he picked you up when you were drunk, you told him you love him, so what’s to stop him from realizing this arrangement is actually a terrible idea?

“You know, before I was a professor, I used to drink a lot,” he confesses.

“Really?”

“I had a…very stressful job, and I was doing a lot of things that I wasn’t proud of. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors that I was in prison?” You nod. “Well, those are true. I was arrested by the FBI for treason, but eventually I was just convicted of cybercrimes and served five months on a plea deal.

“That whole experience changed me. After I got out, I moved out of D.C., relinquished my rights to the family company, and decided that I wanted nothing to do with anything that was a part of my old life.” Duncan laughs, scrubbing at his face with the back of his hand. “Sorry if this is long-winded, I haven’t been drunk in a while.”

“It’s okay, baby.” You run your fingers through his hair, giving him the time to collect his thoughts.

“What I’m trying to say is that I did a lot of things when I was drunk. Mainly of the brooding and blackmail variety, but I most certainly was never the type to show up at the home of someone that I was sleeping with. In fact, I actively avoided those women when I was drunk. You, though, you’re different. I didn’t want to do anything I would regret. I just wanted to see you, and I don’t know how to handle having such strong feelings for someone who I’m not even supposed to be involved with.”

“Well…that’s a lot to unpack,” you laugh awkwardly, trying to make Duncan feel comfortable and not like he needs to be nervous. “First of all, thank you for trusting me enough to share that piece of you with me. I know how hard that must have been for you. And, while I obviously have much less life experience than you, you’re the first person I’ve ever felt so strongly for. It terrifies me sometimes, because I wasn’t aware that anyone was capable of possessing such strong feelings.”

“See? That, right there. You just get me, (Y/N), and I love you so much.”

“I’m going to tell you what you told me when I was drunk, and say that you won’t mean it in the morning.”

“But I will though, and I was stupid and cowardly for telling you that in the first place.”

“Alright then, if you do mean it in the morning, then I guess we have a lot to talk about.”

“I will mean it in the morning, so we will have a lot to talk about,” Duncan says smugly, pulling you to his chest with a finality that tells you he’s absolutely right.

//

bby taglist :) @lvngdvns @sojournmichael @ccodyfern

[codyfernmorelikedaddyfern]

KILLER QUEEN - DUNCAN X ROYAL FEM!READER // PART EIGHT - END

Read it all here.

Description: A short visit to DC brings Duncan to getting a little revenge on his uncle Bill and the way he spoke about (Y/N). But isn’t it a little too late to erase the app?

Warning: You look beautiful

Word Count: 2322

Gif by @codyfernsource​

“She comes in here with her royal attitude, she expects us to kneel and kiss her boot and you don’t see a problem with it, Annie?!” the loud voice of Bill Shepherd rang through his hotel suite. The older woman only rolled her eyes at her brother, watching him lose more and more of his temper. “I thought you said Duncan was only meant to publicly appear with her?! Not bring her home to meet Claire Fucking Underwood!” he continued, slamming his first against the table before raising it, an accusatory finger pointed towards his nephew.

Luckily, (Y/N) had not been present for this outburst and Duncan was somewhat thankful for it. He was used to Bill’s degrading vocabulary towards him but hearing the older man speak the way he did about his Brit caused something sour to pile on the back of his tongue. “I can’t believe you managed to find him someone dumber than him, Annie! I can’t believe she went!” the Shepherd patriarch stomped around, arms flaying up and down. His nephew opened his mouth to speak but was quickly shot down by the other man. “And what exactly did they discuss?! Were you even there or did you blank out and stare at the wall at the idea of what you’ll have for your next meal?!”

With a loud shout from Annette, the tension broke off instantly. “Bill, I will not tolerate this any longer. (Y/N) has been nothing but accommodating and, according to Duncan, she is now a very valuable ally” like a proud lioness, she spoke while standing in front of her cub. With a swift movement, she motioned for her son to leave, eyes still trained on Bill. Quickly glancing over her shoulder and noticing the absence of Duncan, she inched closer to her brother to whisper. “I know you know nothing about love, Bill. But I’m not sure Duncan will allow you to speak the way you just did about the girl he cares a great deal about any longer” his brows furrowed at his sister’s words, his head twitching to the side with surprise. “You are as much of a coward as you are blind to not see that this is much more than us getting the Windsor in our pocket, this is now about Duncan and her” Annette spat before storming out, meeting her son in the hallway and then stepping in the elevator with him.

“I was ready to punch him square in the face” they young man admitted through gritted teeth, fist still clenched. The reassuring touch of Annette  as she rested her hand on his tensed shoulder brought Duncan's anger to a still. “Is she staying with you at your apartment?” she softly asked before earning a nod from him. A small smile pinched up his lips whilst he scratched the stubble of his cheek as they made their way down to the parking lot. “I think you should go back to her and relax before your interview later on” her face turned into a gentle smile before he could nod one more, walking towards the large SUV to carry them back to his apartment.

Still tangled in the white bedsheets, (Y/N)’s body gently warmed up to the embrace of the sun grazing her skin. The smell of polished furniture, fresh linen and waxed hardwood floor gently tickled her nose as she stirred in Duncan’s large bed. Then the sound of the front door and a few exchange of words came to her ears and she slowly sat up to look at the alarm clock. It had been years since she had slept past 7:30 and her sleeping in was definitely blamed on the jet lag. Slowly, she heard the door creak open, the sight of Duncan igniting the smile blossoming on her tired face. In the heartbeat it took for him to notice her looking back at him, awake, his somewhat frown matched her expression and that same heartbeat seemed to falter slightly. Strolling across the room to seat right at the edge of the bed, his smile only grew brighter as she silently rested her head on his lap, wrapping her tired arms around his waist.

Shoes kicked off and the covers thrown over his taller frame, the American settled next to (Y/N) below the covers, arms looped around the small of her waist. And a quick cuddling session turned into hours of simply laying there, pressed against one another in comfortable silence. A hand carding through the (Y/H/C) locks of the duchess and the quiet sound of breathing filled in the room whilst they basked in the feeling of nuzzling against their lover. Duncan cleared his throat, reluctantly breaking the comfort of the moment.

“I'm scheduled for an interview at the Shepherd Hall in a little over an hour” the brunette groaned before pressing his face deep against the crook of his girl's neck. A low whine fell from the woman's lips before she looked over at him with a frown. “Thought we were meant to spend today together?” her voice mumbled, pulling the covers up against her exposed breasts. A quiet snicker passed Duncan's throat at the sight of the expression on his girlfriend's features. “I promise, after it's over, I'll be right here, making sure that Her Majesty has her fill of DC for a few months” the man whispered, intent on fulfilling his promise.

And just like that, he was out the door, black high neck loosely tucked in a pair of his black slacks, jacket ever so slightly flowing behind him. Thought clouded his mind. He didn't have a lot of time to make it right. 11:42 was when he stepped into the office. 11:47 was when he entered his password in the computer he had spent days, weeks, months working on, clammy and shaking hands caused by the stammering of his heart hitting the keys.

If Bill was being such a prick, so would Duncan. And especially when it came to the the woman he loved. Love? Duncan thought. “I guess it is love, then” he whispered in the next heartbeat. The annoyance of getting rid of such a large amount of work was upsetting but fucking his uncle over was much more tempting than anything else right now.

11:52 was when the coding in progress popped up on his screen.  “Control, shift, home” were the words he breathed, pressing the keys from his keyboard. And then Delete was pressed. No more code, no more app. No more app, meant a sweet revenge on Duncan's part. He watched the pages of data get swept away with a satisfied smirk dancing along his lips. A loud knock pulled him out of his trance, Seth opening the door. “They're here” he announced.

The Shepherd's bachelor stood from his seat, watching the last of the page erase before he could shut down the computer. “I'll be with them in a second. Tell my mother I'll be down in a couple of minutes, will you?” he looked at his colleague who's only response was an anxious looking nod.

(Y/N)'s phone buzzed with a similar notification. “Get on WVDC, the interview is beginning now and be on shortly after we record it”. But the quiet and gentle snoring convinced her other wise. It's only when she heard the loud ringing of her phone that the Duchess woke up. 6 missed calls, one from an unknown number, 5 from Annette. Her blood ran cold as she watched her screen light up once more with the name of the Shepherd's mother. Picking up the call, the shaky voice of the older woman brought tear to the (Y/H/C). “They took Duncan away, (Y/N)”

The slow clicking of her heels reverberated through the long halls. Just like her first meeting with Duncan, she was late. Mainly due to the long conversations that has just happened between herself, her father and the cause of the problem: Clair Underwood, the president of the United States of America. Hushed conversations rang to her ears as she was striding towards the door. “Let me handle this” (Y/N) gently asked Annette whilst making her way to the guard about to press the door open.

The mop of brown curls turned to look at the Princess, cheeks flushed and tears dried on the stubble of his cheeks. Duncan thought about standing up. He allso thought about running to her. He thought about burring his face in the crook of her neck in shame, perhaps to cry once more. But he just sat there. And it broke her already aching heart as the door banged closed behind her petite frame.

A sigh pushed past the man's chest. The woman looked at him, standing as tall as she could above his seated form. His blue gaze danced across her. He was afraid. Afraid of what looked like to be the anger she carried. Afraid of what she was going to do or say to him. Afraid for his own heart to break. Afraid of her. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction of hurting him, however, because he spoke first.

“I'll ask my mother to book you the first flight to London. Luckily, you've not unpacked anything yet so you're pretty much ready to go” his head bobbed with a nod, eyebrows knitting together. Duncan swallowed the tightening lump in his throat, regret already flooding through his bloodstream. “We can't have Her Majesty publicly seeing a convicted felon so I guess it's time for us to break the contract. It was a pleas-”

The stinging of the loud slap she delivered to his cheek interrupted the speech pouring out of the man but luckily, it brought some clarity to his thoughts. A couple of seconds passed and (Y/N) looked at him. “Are you done talking shit now?” she simply asked. To think she was angry before clearly was an understatement on the brunette's part because the horrified expression on his girl's face spoke for itself now. A heavy sigh fell in the room. “Why are you here, (Y/N)?” were the words he whispered, his heart heavy.

Arms crossed over her trembling chest, the Duchess took in a deep breath. “I spoke to my father. And I spoke to Claire. Either you carry on your sentence, this is over before it has really begun and you serve your time in jail.” The blue of her boyfriend's gaze reached the (Y/E/C) of hers whilst she settled in the chair in front of him, legs crossing one over the other. “Or you come with me now. We go back to London as prison time, exiled from the States”

A snicker shook the man, quickly replaced by a laugh. “And why exactly are you trying to help me?” a shit eating grin on his lips, clasping his manacled hands on his laps. The petite frame of the Brit leaned closer across to him, lips parting as she spoke. “Because I'm in love with you, Duncan” were the words she whispered. And he watched them roll off of her tongue, his eyes transfixed on her mouth. “So I'm going to repeat it. Either you come with me, the charges are dropped and we work things out or you stay here and get comfortable in your cell”.

His only response was to close the distance between them, his lips chasing hers. Duncan felt (Y/N)'s mouth curling up against his. “Luckily, I didn't unpack anything either” his voice murmured before diving in for another kiss only for a small hand to press him away. “So you're really not going to say it back, you dickhead?” a smirk painted her lips.

And just like that, she woke up enveloped in the arms of the American every morning for the next three years. The alarm rang later on that morning of August, a sense of excitement building up in their stomach as they got ready for their day, meeting with her brothers and her father in Kew Garden. After spending a week together on a romantic trip in Bali, speculations rose in the tabloids. And it was dressed in an elegant deep green jumpsuit matching Duncan's impeccable suit jacket, that the Royal put the rumours to rest.

“You highness, this way please? Bring your left hand forward?” the man holding the camera asked. Duncan's hand draped on the waist of his girl. The park was empty for the occasion, the lovebirds obliging the photographer's demands as he snapped pictures upon pictures. No, the Duchess was not pregnant. At least, not yet. It's with a simple letter that everything was laid to rest, accompanied by some of the many pictures of the pretty ring she now wore.

"His Royal Highness The Prince of Wales is delighted to announce the engagement of Princess (Y/N) to Mr Duncan Shepherd.

The wedding will take place in Summer 2021. Further details about the wedding day will be announced in due course.

Her Royal Highness and Mr Shepherd became engaged in London earlier this month. Princess (Y/N) has informed Her Majesty The Queen and other close members of her family. Mr Shepherd has also sought and received the blessing of myself for their union.

The couple will live in Nottingham Cottage at Kensington Palace."

That's how, the next morning, the front page of a magazine wrote about the news. Duncan was halfway through his cup of coffee when he looked up and watched (Y/N) read the same newspaper he just had filed through. He looked at her with a cock of his head, her gaze meeting his with an amused chuckle. “What?” the Brit chuckled. “I guess I love you” the brunette responded, rolling his eyes and faking annoyance. And with another soft smile, Duncan crowned the princess with a kiss on her forehead. “No, I'm sure I do, Mrs. Shepherd” the American finished before walking past his girl.

______________________________________________________________

Killer Queen squad :  @welcometothelioncage​ @nathidfc​, @dark-mei-rose​, @littledemondani, @fckinsupreme, @littlegirlsdontplaynice, @leatherduncan, @michael-langdon-appreciation, @with-dandelions-in-her-hands @nickiechao11, @miss-diamonds, @radioactivegirlsworld @idespac, @psychobitchtess, @hplotrfan, @tea-party-at-wonderland, @langdxn, @wroteclassicaly, @hecohansen31 & @blakewaterxx​

[80sfern]

omg yes i loooooove older!duncan with my whole HEART any chance u could write a blurb about getting w him at a fundraiser for your college (maybe his kid also goes to that college??) and you get tipsy at the bar and start talking to him about how youve always found him super hot and things go from there !!!!! yeehaw AH ily!!!

omg i love this. sorry about typos i’m on my phone doing this, and i’m a little high and watching star wars for the first time.

So say you moved to DC for college and you’re first in your class so at the fundraiser you’re required to do a speach. You know Duncan’s daughter goes to your college, his entire family went there so they’re all legacies. You’ve seen him in magazines and on the TV and just about everywhere else, especially since moving to DC a few years before.

It’s late at night, after you’ve given your speech, and the auction is going on in a smaller room or the building. You’re at the bar with a few friends drinking and you’re more than a little tipsy but not fully drunk when you see him in the corner of the room mingling with some other politian who’s child goes to your college. Desipte your hatred for his beliefs, you can’t deny how attractive you’ve always found him, when you were fifteen and before you had determined your political views you had fantasized about the older man. Even years later, you can’t seem to get over your attraction to him despite your distaste in his views.

Once you find Duncan talking to a group of politicians and trophy wives who’s children must attend the school too, you can’t take your mind off the older man. You know the alcohol must really be getting to you if the wetness building between your thighs is any indication, you suddenly regret forgoing underwear to avoid panty lines under your silky dress. Your cheeks flush when Duncan’s eyes meet yours after you’ve been staring for what feels like forever, your gaze shifting to your friends as you focus in on the conversation. When you look over again, he’s gone.

It slips out of your mouth before you can stop it, “I know he’s... problematic and everything, but I would totally let Duncan Shepherd fuck me.” Your friends freeze around you at your words, every other time you’ve mentioned his name its been followed by curses and arguments to something he said. Nervous giggles spill from your lips when silence follows, but before you can take them back your friends are agreeing with you.

Before you think too hard you continue, “And I do hate him, his mind and beliefs... But even I can’t deny how sexy he is. You all know I’ve always been into older guys, and I’ve never ever told anyone this so you guys are lucky, but I used to... fantasize about him before I really understood politics.” You avoid their gazes as you talk, swirling the champagne in your glass with one hand and focusing on that instead of the shocked looks on their faces. When the silence continues you finally look up, your gaze following theirs behind you. You can’t stop the blush rising to your cheeks as your eyes meet Duncan’s, a cocky smirk on his lips as he leans against the bar.

Your entire body is hot, engulfed in flames of embarrassment as you realize the man himself heard you talking about your dirty little secret. You nearly drop your champagne glass on the counter as you stammer for an apology and brush past him to escape the humiliation. You feel as if everyone is watching you as you rush for the restroom, you can’t leave for another hour because you have to help with the closing ceremonies but you can definitely hide in the powder room until you’re needed. Tears are rising in your eyes as you get closer to the door, your hands shaking as you reach for the handle and your breath speeding up as you try to calm down.

You’re alone for two minutes, long enough to have cooled your pink face and steadied your breathing when the door opens. Your eyes shift from your reflection in the mirror to behind you, your breath hitching in your throat as Duncan Shepherd locks the door to the restroom. “Mr. Shepherd, I-I’m sorry about what I said, it was extremely unprofessional and I-“ your voice cuts off as he walks closer, until he’s a foot away and you’ve backed into the marble counter.

You keep your eyes on his chest, avoiding eye contact as he reaches into the pocket of his slacks and pulls out his wallet. He pulls a hotel keycard out a moment later and holds it in front of you, “If you want to make your fantasies a reality, come to my room.” A whimper leaves your mouth before you can gain control of yourself, taking the keycard with shaky hands and without thinking and he leaves you there, shaking and flushed with a smirk on his lips.

[taehyungsgrowl]

More sugar babies content, Y/N and Jim eventually get sick and tired going to too many galas they dont mind getting all dressed up (bc its kinda nice) but they get so bored and being much younger than Duncan they seek diferent types of fun, after SO much whining and begging they drag duncan to a pretty exclusive night club they both team up to get him really drunk (bc thats the only way he "allegedly" dance) and he just lets go for that night, he never felt so young and in love- drunk anon

hey drunk anon! sorry it’s taken me some time to get to some on my asks! ily!! 

“he never felt so young and in love” bitch! i’m crying his sugar babies keep him full of life!! 

i’m putting a read more thing bc its like 1,000 words lol

Y/N and Jim tagged team in order to convince Duncan to go out to a club. 

He sighed heavily as he flipped the pancakes on the stove, “I haven’t been to a place like that in years. But you both go ahead; have fun!” he tried not to let a disheartened tone cover his voice. He would never tell them this, but he felt too.. old to be going to rowdy clubs meant for 20 year olds. 

“Duncan!” Y/N whined, “Please!” she nudged Jim for back up. Her eyes wandered down Duncan’s bare back as he cooked breakfast for them. The tone muscles looked like they were carved from stone. 

“Just once! If you don’t like it we can leave.” he reasoned, bouncing his leg on the floor, anxious for Duncan to agree. 

“Fine.” Duncan turned around, leaning against the kitchen island. “But we leave on my terms.” his voice stern with them. His lips cracked into a smile seeing his babies nod enthusiastically at his response, “Yes!” “Of course!” Y/N and Jim both spoke over each other. 

***

Their limo dropped them off on the curb of the elite club. Only the likes of political heirs populated the club. Extremely exclusive and top notch secrecy. 

Once inside, Duncan tried not to grimace at the loud music playing through the dark atmosphere. The lit up dance floor busy with dancing bodies pressing against each other. 

Jim and Y/N each grabbed one of Duncan’s hands and pulled him to the bar. 

“ A round of tequila, please.” Jim ordered the drinks to start off their night. The bartender complied, placing wedges of lime and clear shots of alcohol.

Jim and Y/N picked theirs up, looking at Duncan expectantly. He picked it up, bumped his shot glass with theirs and it took it like a champ. No lime chaser needed. 

He couldn’t help but laugh, seeing his babies grimace and suck harshly on the lime. 

Soon enough, one shot turned to two shots, that turned to three shots and so on. 

Jim giggled into Duncan’s neck, “Duncan..” he couldn’t stop the eruption of giggles that followed, “Let’s dance!” his hands snaked around Duncan’s waist. Y/N was off to the side of the bar swinging her hip from side to side dancing on her own. 

“Look at her Dunc! She’s having a great time!” Jim boldly, let his hand wander over Duncan’s crotch, peering up at him through his lashes. 

Duncan grabbed his wrist to stop him, giving him a look that said it all. 

Duncan ordered another shot, slamming the glass down on the bar. “C’mon then.” he licked his lips tasting the remains on the tequila on his lips. 

It was when Duncan got off the stool that he noticed his balance was a little off. But he was too hot to care. He felt sweat collect in his graying hair. His perfectly gelled hair, coming apart, loose strands framing his face. 

Making their way through the crowd, Duncan felt the music vibrating in his bones. He grabbed Y/N by her hips pulling her flush against his hips, laughing at the gasp that escaped her hips. His hand reach over for Jim, pulling him in so he was pressed against Y/N’s ass, encompassing her in a sandwich. 

Touching limbs and lips, alternating between the three. Duncan, for the first time in a long time, didn’t care. Didn’t care about who was watching or what people thought. In that moment, he was having fun. 

As the songs shifted, so did they. Duncan was now the one surrounded his Y/N and Jim. Their hands were everywhere. The heat rose to Duncan, he unbuttoned the top buttons of his expensive black shirt (that was now covered in lime juice and alcohol) allowing himself some freedom. 

Jim touched his now exposed chest, lingering in the bit of chest hair that adorned it. Duncan grabbed his hand again, only pulling him into a kiss this time. Y/N watched as they made out on the dance floor, her hands, not so secretly, toying with Duncan’s belt. 

Sober Duncan would be the las to admit how much fun he was having. Carefree. Dancing (that part would be the hardest to believe, honestly). Surrounded by the people he loved, feeling just as light hearted as he did, without a worry in the world. 

***

Even with a hangover, Duncan was still the first one to wake up. He rolled his eyes at Y/N and Jim slumped into the pillows, mouths hanging open, soft snores coming out in unison. It was crazy how in sync Y/N and Jim were sometimes. 

After showering away the night before, he headed off to make breakfast for Jim and Y/N; his routine. 

“Soooo.” Y/N sang as she entered the kitchen, “Had fun last night?” she asked Duncan as stole a strawberry from Duncan’s counter. 

He let out a genuine laugh, “I did, actually. Far more.. hands on than the galas I drag you all to.” he shook his head, stealing the strawberry from Y/N’s fingers and biting into it himself. 

“We told you!” Jim chirped from the doorway. 

How these two seemed so… awake after the night before was beyond him. Maybe it was his age or how unused he was to going out like that, but he couldn’t seem to shake the grogginess from his mind. 

Jim pulled out a chair, “Sit. Let us do it.” he offered. 

He snorted, “I’d really rather not have to call the fire department today. I don’t think my head could handle the sirens.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and dragged him to the chair, “Let us take care of you today.. daddy,” she winked at Jim as they both leaned in to kiss each of Duncan’s cheeks. 

[hecohansen31]

It Was Fun Till It Lasted

Duncan Shepherd x F1 Pilot Female! Reader

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

I have been a bit silent the latest weeks, but I just got hit by the inspiration train as of lately (even more after all the F1 glory we have been getting) and I just thought about a small drabble, about Duncan in the race car universe.

Not as a driver, but more like a sponsor.

This is very PWP, even for my sentimental ass, so I do hope that you’ll like it, even though it isn’t the most perfect thing ever (just to warn you).

Also I just wanted to give @guiltyfiend a big shoutout because she has been a constant source of inspiration for me with various fics (‘Quid Pro Quo’ has been the main reason why for the existence of this drabble) so do check out her lovely fics!

I am also personally, maybe (since I don’t feel apprecciated in the other fandoms I am in) of making a few comebacks in this fandom, if any of you would like iit obviously!

So, please, if you want more, don’t forget to leave some kind of feedback I truly apprecciate it from the bottom of my heart and it’ll truly make my heart beat stronger and my fingers write faster!

Don’t ever ever forget to support your beloved writers with feedback, if you liked what they wrote!

Have a nice reading!

SUMMARY: Galas can be annoying things, but when an handsome fellow accidentally drenches you in champagne there are many ways your night might change.

WORDS: 5,4 K

WARNINGS: Mention of Sexism, Misogyny, Harassment On The Workplace, Inaccurate Portrayal of The F1 World, Inaccurate Way Of Cleaning Champagne From Clothes, Sex, Slight Dirty Talk, Mirror Sex, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Sex Between Strangers.

You sipped slowly from the flute of champagne you had managed to steal, meanwhile your boss wasn’t looking, since you had been instructed to avoid getting yourself drunk till you got the trophy in your hand, to avoid replacing the ‘drunk Kimi meme’ in the F1 world.

But it was difficult for you, an introvert, to feel at ease in a room full of different people.

A few of them were gladly ignoring you, but more were looking at you like you were some kind of freak in a costume, which was probably the best description for being one pilot of the only all-female team existing in F1.

You had grown up with the myths of Ayrton Senna and Niki Lauda, thanks to your grandfather and his the passion for fast cars and elegant ones, raising you as some kind of substitute to him, who had never been able to race, having had various problematics with his own health.

An heartattack at seventy had taken him away, just as you signed your first contract with the F2.

You had been partnered with a male pilot, and although the car wasn’t the fastest, you had managed to become much better than your partner, eventually getting yourself fired because females, in a place like F1, couldn’t raise to fame, throwing you in a depression that had brought you almost on the verge…

… but then your newest F1 stable had brought you back, giving you a car that wasn’t definitely one of the best you could have gotten but it had gotten you through a nice first season, and you had actually arrived at the sixth position in the constructors’ championship, alongside your partner…

… who, right now, didn’t look less bothered than you, at this fancy party.

But Abigail could definitely hold the curious gazes better than you.

You might have needed something more than champagne to get through a night like this.

You had begged your stable director to just bring Abigail, the social butterfly out of the two of you, but he had just insisted that ‘having two beauties on his arm would have done him and the stable more good than just one’.

And aside from the blatantly sexist part of the comment, you knew he was right.

Sponsors had been rushing to you this season because the media had focused much attention on the importance of new female figures in races, but now that the novelty was rushing off a few had decided to let you go, so you had to grab a few new ones, convincing them through either the use of your talk and your feminine charm.

‘… I had almost thought that he’d ask us to sleep with the sponsors to get them to stay’ had commented Abigail, as you both set yourself up for the night, the elegant rented dresses waiting for you on the comfortable bed of the expensive suite of the hotel ‘… it was this close to becoming an episode of ‘Law & Order: SVU’.

And now Abigail was being her usual chatty with a few sponsors fawning around her, as you tried to down the flute of champagne almost as if it was a full bottle of vodka, something that you honestly missed and stared at the expensive drink in the glass.

If only your glare could turn it in something that would give you more liquid courage.

A few of the rookies had been tried to talk with you and you had been extremely happy to have someone approach you, but soon the chat had diffused itself and all the drivers had been called back by their own director, and you had found yourself alone, again, and with annoying stares upon you.

Many of the pilots from the other stables had tried to get you in bed with them, and you knew that there were various bets going on about getting you or Abigail to finally relent your ‘haughty pretenses’, not to talk about the fact that the entire media platform and magazines had been set up on you and Abigail, waiting for any false step of yours.

You had been dubbed ‘the sole chance for feminism to raise’ and everyone was waiting for you to fall.

To prove that F1 wasn’t female territory.

So, you had been rigorously swearing off any coupling with the other drivers.

The fact that you found it already quite difficult to combine your training and the various galas you had to attend with an healthy social life, certainly did help with the whole ‘chastity promise’ thing.

And you never regretted such a choice during the race season.

The ‘no sex’ rule helped you during the competition, keeping your mind in the game, but now that the driving season was ended and you were finally enjoying your well-deserved holiday, you couldn’t help but hate thoroughly the situation you had landed yourself in, only able to rely on your hand and a few interesting toys.

But otherwise, utterly frustrated.

And yet unable to come up with a solution on such a short notice.

Dicks didn’t grow up on trees, these days.

You just bumped in them, apparently.

Because, as you were halfway through having your second drink of the night, counting on the fact that the director of your stable was halfway through a successful talk with some well-dressed older gentlemen, hence making him quite busy already and unable to check up on you, you clashed against a wall.

A wall of muscles, at a second glance.

A breathing wall of muscles, at third glance.

But you were far more interested by the fact that the bump-in had just made you spill your entire drink on your Givenchy rented dress, the one that costed more than your apartment rent, something that made a loud ‘shit’ leave your mouth and making the ‘wall of muscles’ raise his head towards you, as he noticed the stain.

And then, when you noticed that ‘wall of musclea’ had a pretty face and an even prettier body, a softer ‘shit’ left your mouth.

What a way to make an impression.

“Oh Gosh, I am sorry!” American accent, no British accent.

That was probably where Mother Nature had drawn in blessing him with all the ‘fucking handsome man’ gifts.

His handsome face was elegantly touched up by high cheekbones and feature that had something of roguish matched with elegant traits and darker colors, making him stand out as someone who wasn’t definitely a pilot or a journalist.

Which was ideal for you.

Such an refined face was matched with an elegant tailored body, the suit definitely made for him and him solely, knowing perfectly how to highlight each and every trait of a body that was obtained through attentive work, a careful one that was meant to impose itself or pump his muscles with no aim, but to give him a lean appearance of power.

That definitely worked with you.

“… oh” brain to Earth, brain to Earth, (Y/N), say something intelligent ‘… it was an accident’.

Tell that to the lady that will want the dress back.

But for now, that wasn’t your main concern.

Which was the handsome man in front of you.

But you couldn’t just hump him right there, not only because you were pretty sure that it would have been described as ‘sexual harassment’, but all the spotlight was set up on you, hence all the cameras were focused on every little small mistake you could have done, intensifying them in a way that didn’t happen with men.

You had to be perfect, but even more than that.

You had to be the male everyone thought you were, although you lacked of the attributes.

So, flirting was considered a hellish sin.

“Gosh, I am… extremely sorry” he repeated again, as his eyes shared a quick glance with yours, and you just nodded your head as if you had to confirm to him that you had heard him clearly the first time, before ducking to the restroom, hoping to be able to scrub away the stain, at least to avoid its yellowish color on the stark white of your dress.

But before you could start raising the dress off your legs, where the stain was more evident, you were followed inside by the man, and before you could utter any protest, he caught the ones in your eyes.

“I swear I am not a creeper” he raised his hands as if to reinforce this “… I just… you shouldn’t scrub on silk, it’ll just ruin the fabric, just ran the water and then wait for it to dry, some alcohol and a bit of bleach might also help, the stain will come out, with a single wash… I swear”.

You had a million questions for the stranger, unsure if you shouldn’t have already screamed at him for having entered the ladies restroom, but you just assumed that he was the first handsome guy ever to come with a cute personality.

And good domestic knowledge.

That was meant to always do something to a lady.

“… thank you” you settled on uttering, comforted by the fact that the guy turned around to leave you some privacy, but you couldn’t just let go such an opportunity, even more when you were in some kind of secluded area, and he didn’t look like the type that had a secret go-pro camera under his clothes.

Some girl that you had once met in a bathroom at one of the races had turned out to have one, as she egged on commenting some shit over Abigail.

Unluckily for her, Abigail was in the other stall and she had flushed in the noisiest way the water, before appearing with some kind of triumphant aura around her.

“… can you please stay?” ‘people will probably doubt you on your “abilities” if you come out after five minutes’ you almost wanted to utter, as a test to know if he looked just like a sex god or he fucking was, although with the way his cheeks blushed of a light red, you simply bit down on your tongue “… just to help me get the stain off, properly… you seem to know much more than me about it”.

“Things happen in college” he commented, as if it was an explanation.

What kind of parties had he been in college?

You just remembered the rush to grabbing the cheapest and most efficient alcohol.

He reached out as kindly as he could to start on the farthest part of your dress, where it wasn’t straight up skin tight, gently dabbing it with a piece of paper you had handed him, the fabric destroying itself on the dress, but the stain became a bit less prominent.

Enough to pass as some kind of enrichment the stylist had done on the dress at the last minute.

You hoped you could make the lady that had rented it to you buy this shit off too.

Because you either managed to get the stain out or get yourself a sponsor for the new year, or you’d have had to probably start living on the road, with only a few shining trophies for losers, such as the one you were supposed to grab tonight, for ‘best promising team’.

As if there was some kind of competition, between your small team and various established ones…

“… what are you doing at such a party?” you knew that conversation during this kind of thing would have gotten it to seem less sexual than it truly was, and although you were as good at small talk as you were at handling a crowd, you did your best to sound as relaxed as you could be.

But your question still sounded like one out of a police interrogation.

“Friend of a friend” it was more like meaning ‘none of your business’ but kinder, and you couldn’t deny his own right to privacy “… by the way, I do think that I should give you my name… in case you want someone to curse for the dress, I am Duncan”.

“I am (Y/N)” you were glad when no light of recognition shone in his eyes, just as his hand lightly grabbed the back of your upper thigh, to make the dress adhere perfectly to your skin and dab the stain more properly, a light shiver at the touch made you understand how truly touch-starved you had been “… and you look as out of place as me in this fucking gown”.

“Don’t tell anybody, but…” and he lightly leaned in closer to you, enough that you could feel the strong but comforting perfume of his cologne, something that smelt extremely male and yet, you couldn’t detect a trace of toxic masculinity in it “… I have never seen a single race of F1 in my life”.

Just what you needed.

“… oh tell me about it” you played coy, as his hands raised up from your legs skillfully avoided your ass, instead choosing to grip on the outer part of your hip, handling you with care but a sureness that made you want to relent the whole ‘male image’ you had created around you.

What would you have given for a night in which you didn’t have to be the one in control, constantly checking every detail!

“… neither a fan of the whole race panorama?” he asked, as his eyes trained themselves on your stomach, barely covered by the white of the dress, showing him a bit of skin behind it, exactly as the absence of your panties, a crazed decision of Abigail, who had thrown away your seamless granny pants.

‘They might be protective when we race, but these are shit’.

You knew you shouldn’t have lied to him about not belonging in the racing setting, but you just wanted to have one night in which you weren’t the prodigy, the promise, ‘the sole chance for freedom to raise’.

You just wanted to be (Y/N).

“Definitely not”.

“Brought here by a boyfriend?” now he was scanning his own ground, and he had a small break from his cleaning duties, as you caught a glimpse of that damned profile, the kind of thing you saw on expensive old coins.

He was definitely some kind of emperor in his own right.

“Nope” you mumbled, before you gave him back his own same coin “… just brought here by a friend of a friend”.

He smirked at his words being spit back at him and you smiled almost foolishly.

You even let out a soft giggle.

How fucking long had it been since you had giggled?

And done it because you honestly wanted.

And not because you were forced in front of journalists or potential sponsors.

His hands were now on the side of your chest, against the slight hill of your bra (you could have forsaken panties, but you needed that support), his hands lightly tracing the ridge of the silicone part where the bra stood attached to your skin, sweaty due to the fact that you had been wearing the whole thing for five hours, before of the event.

“… and you had an idiot spill a drink over it, in the span of an hour” the words were meant for self-deprecation, but the smile that accompanied him was utterly confident.

Had you had panties, they would have definitely hit the ground soundly in that moment.

“… it could have been worse” you mumbled, just as your eyes twinkled with secret meaning.

‘You could have been a complete twat or old enough to be my grandpa’

“… you couldn’t have known how to get out champagne stains” you joked, settling up on a more PG-13 comment, unsure of what to do, since it had been quite some time since you had last flirted, and although his hand told you a story, you weren’t exactly sure if he had gotten all the clues of the game.

He laughed so brilliantly that also a light blush joined your soft giggle.

“Gosh, that would have been awful” his tone was joking, but his eyes were onto you, as they searched some kind of confirm in yours, and you just had to lean in to sign the deal, leaning down to kiss him.

You had never been one for one-night-stands and neither for quick fucks in a restroom, but with the way he lightly gripped you, making sure to position you on top of the elegant porcelain sink, careful to avoid the water: it wouldn’t have been neither.

And you were completely swept away.

He definitely passed the ‘kiss’ test.

His hand went through your hair perfectly, but careful of the small updo you had done, his fingertips lightly scraping the baby hair on your upper neck, in a way that kept you grounded, just as his lips lightly bit onto your upper lips, leaving you wanting for more, just as he backed away with a cunning smirk.

One that spoke of that technique never failing.

And before he could perform again that cocky enchantment, you kissed him.

Releasing on him entire months of sexual frustration.

And you had to say that you surprised him, enough that you were worried that your suddenness would have scared him, but he just needed to regain the control, before his hand without any care went to mess up your updo, in a way that instead of grounding and relaxing you, made you tense up, just as his hand splayed your knees wide onto the sink to have him come up between them.

And after the passionate kiss you had been sharing, you found yourself quickly locked, with one that gripped you by the hair against the cold mirror and another one splayed on your knee

The fabric of your silk dress lightly caressed the skin of your inner thigh, right as his elegant and expensive pants did the same with your core, making you feel that you shouldn’t have seriously worried about the ‘five minutes thing’, or at least you hoped.

But the package seemed fucking good.

“… so, would you like to have a bit more of help?” the way he pronounced the word ‘help’ sounded downright sinful and how could a girl deny him, as your own hands moved to gently tap on his sharp cheeks, the scratchiness of a cleanly shaved beard making you feel like this was all real.

“Just don’t get my dress dirty” it was a whisper, but your eyes played with the dominance you wanted to relent to him, and he just looked intrigued.

“Then spread your legs properly, little one” and as if under a spell they opened properly and let him adjust himself against them as his hands lightly raised up to collect the dress away from your legs, stopping right up on your hips and leaving a bit of dress to cover you, as if he had to leave you some modesty “… good girl”.

You purred at that, leaning in the light petting of his grip having become less pronounced as a grip and more a caress.

“…  I saw you out there in the crowd and I wanted to buy you a drink, because you looked at unease as me, I thought that you could use that” he commented as his face lightly moved down to the crook of your neck, his nose making a teasing trail down your profile, just as his beard lightly scratched your skin, making it redden simply for his lips, before he covered it of purplish bruises “… I thought I had done the worst thing ever since with pouring a drink over you”.

“… couldn’t stay mad when you fucking looked like a sex god” you muttered unable to deny the truth, your body arching right against his as his hands, gently dragged he strap of your dress down your shoulders, revealing the awful skin-like bra, but he just seemed focused on your collarbones, his hand working slowly to ease the bra away from you, eventually dropping it onto the small tissues box over both of your heads, so it wouldn’t get on the ground.

An attentive gesture, exactly as the way he gripped tightly your breast, making sure that your nipples were lightly caressed by his thumb, right as he bit down on the softer flesh of your neck.

“I am glad that my good looks were of some use” he joked, and gently looked up at you “… and let me tell you, I have a tongue that will make you forget all about my clumsiness”.

“I do think that I deserve an apology” you muttered, as your eyes met again, your lashes cornering perfectly your hazy eyes, breathy and soft “… a vocal apology”.

And he simply smirked down at you, falling on his knees with a sound thud, as you pushed yourself further down the sink you were on, till you felt the painful dig of the faucet in your back, enough to make you moan in protest, but soon the look of wonder on his face as he unveiled the secret underneath your dress was definitely a relief against the uncomfortable position.

“… didn’t know that you were one of those girls that go without panties” he pushed a knee up on you to spread you further to him, as he took in the proper masterpiece that had been revealed to him down there, and his kisses moved up on your inner thigh “… look like the pretty girl turned out to be a bad bad girl, no wonder I am about to fuck you like a fucking bitch in heat in a restroom”.

And you blushed at the profane words.

But it was just more endearing for you as he pushed himself to properly settle against the nest between your legs, already oozing soft milk and sweet honey, his lips lightly pushing against your own, as he dragged the same beard you had felt on your cheeks against your cunt, the sensation making you hiss, right as again your lips came to soothe your ache.

The plumpness of his lips made you unable to stop yourself from moaning out loud, your eyes closing just as he delivered a slap to your thigh, a silent warning to keep your eyes trained on him and you did, as his lips sucked your softest piece in his mouth.

His tongue was instead a blessing inside of you and this time you were the one delving a bit of pain to him, as you grabbed strongly his hair, some kind of relief to keep you grounded as your body became like a cloud, weighted down just by the tension in your whole muscles.

“Fuck, you do know how to have fun” he mumbled tightly, as he released your cunt, something that made you protest loudly “… when was the last time somebody fucked you this good, (Y/N)”.

And before you could properly reply, his finger slipped inside you, making you hiss out at the feeling of being full, so unlike the stretch of your own fingers, so slight that now you needed a minute to calm yourself from everything, as you waited to answer his reply.

And he gave you a moment to breath, before his finger lightly probed further, reaching inside with a wayward gesture that made you choke up on your own words, as your back arched against the mirror and the hand that wasn’t in his hair gripped so tightly the sink that you were sure you had left an acrylic nail there.

“… a long time for sure” he smirked so devilishly that it broke you thoroughly.

And then his tongue matched his finger and before you knew it your floating was interrupted by your skyrocketing to the ground in a pleasurable trail that brought you back to all the earthly pleasure you could ask for, leaving you numb and tensed, your eyes rolling back as you lost sight of what was going on with you.

And then as you regained, your legs were slack over Duncan’s sides, his lips teasing again the skin of your neck, but no intention to punish you with any pain or tease you, instead there was a desperate soothing in his gestures, as you slowly came back to reality.

Fuck, you honestly should do this more.

Sadly, half of the guys that wanted a hook-up wouldn’t have ever done anything like what Duncan just did with you.

And would probably last five minutes, indeed.

“… was that enough of an apology?” he asked as soon as he saw that you had regained some semblance of calmness.

“Definitely yes” not that you could reply with much more.

Your fingers spoke louder as they went to his belt, undoing it with a bit of problem since you were slightly trembling, but he tried his best to let you do it, but before you could lower the pants, he gently grabbed your hands, something soft in his eyes, as he made you look up at him.

“We don’t have to do this…”.

“Oh, c’mon…” you mumbled, but his question was sincere and you couldn’t help but blush lightly “… I am pretty sure I want to do this”.

He mumbled softly, as he grabbed something from his back pocket, as you lightly lowered pants and boxers in one move,

And you weren’t disappointed,

He was definitely a big guy.

Larger than longer, with a light curve that made you painfully ache for having him inside of you, already half-hard, and your hand gently moved up and down on him, in a gentle foreplay that was completely uninterested about the knocking on the door, eventually dissipating in curses.

“… gotta be quiet baby” he commented, as he pushed his wallet on the side of the sink, getting a condom out of it, something for which you were thankful, because although you were on birth control, he was a complete stranger to you, and although the thrill of it just made it all just more daring, you would have preferred avoiding anything that might have given you an awful month “… I don’t know if you will, since I’ll make you feel fucking good”.

You just smirked at him, with a smile that told him ‘I can take it, sweetheart’.

And he just silenced it with pushing himself inside of you.

The penetration gave you an unpleasant stretch, and you needed a minute, as your whole body shifted against him, completely pushing himself in your arms, and to his credit he didn’t do much more than steady you, as he gave you the time to adjust yourself on him, till your whole body relaxed but your own insides.

Gripping him tighter.

Goading him closer and deeper.

And he gently set up a slow rhythm, making you feel each inch of him, till you were hypnotized with the way his hips moved against you, his upper body lightly stroking your clit, as wetness oozed down him, lubing him up, as he took up more speed and you found your back pushed against the mirror with such intensity that you were sure it would have been broken soon.

But you couldn’t give a fuck.

He gently pushed you in another position turning you around, so that you could face the mirror, meanwhile he took you from behind, the angle being deeper and the slight curve of his cock hitting the perfect spot.

And the fact that you could see yourself being fucked by him was only a bonus.

The way his face became so deformed by pleasure gave it all some kind of dreamish state, as the pleasure intensified desperately and you were there just on the right spot, but not enough stimulation was there for you, till he brought a finger in your mouth, and you sucked him inside, looking at the wanton expression on your face, before you closed your eyes.

And pleasure overtook you.

It didn’t take him too much time for him to finish alongside you, as his hand lightly went in your hair again, pushing as a way to grip on reality for a last time and your muscles spasmed around you, desperately and tightly in a way that almost made you wonder how it would have felt to have his seed on you.

And not in a plastic wrapper.

But for now that was all you could do.

Your legs trembled but he steadied you, something that definitely gave him more credit than you thought, expecting him to simply tug himself back in and disappear, maybe stand a bit next to you, to wash himself, but to his credit he gently  handled you better, till you were again seated against the sink, the facet now digging painfully in you.

But you were definitely sore in more pleasurable places.

He gently got you back in your dress, adjusting your bra on your sweaty skin, too sensitive for the powerful orgasms you had felt, his silken touch making goosebumps appear on your skin, as your nipples lightly peaked and he couldn’t stop himself from gently sucking one after the other in his mouth, as you moaned almost as a protest.

“Don’t start something you won’t finish” you warned him, as his eyes twinkled with teasing happiness.

“… I would… but I do think that people need this restroom” and he was right, since you felt somebody halfway through calling the security and you shouted out calmly a soft ‘sorry, I just stained my dress and I am trying to get the stain away’ “… but if you want, I can… leave you my number, for more fun…”.

Which you were tempted to take, honestly.

He was handsome, he had a good dick game and he was definitely respectful of boundaries.

But you knew these things always got too complex for you.

First of all because had you given him your number, you would have to admit the truth and secondly as much as you were free right now a partner that was repeated a few more times was dangerous, because feelings might be developed.

“… I…” but how could you let down a guy like this.

“… you aren’t the type” a sad smile appeared on the man’s face, no hard feelings for sure, but definitely uncomfortable at your rejection and you couldn’t help but simply nod “… got it, well it was fun till it lasted”.

And to his merit he didn’t do anything that might have been rough against you, choosing to instead smile politely as he cleaned himself a bit, before he exited with one last look at you, as if to check if you had changed your mind, but you simply stood painfully uncomfortable off the sink as you dabbed a bit more the stain.

“… thank you for the suggestion and…” ‘…the fucking amazing sex’.

“You are welcome”.

And with that he disappeared from the restroom, as you thought he’d disappear from your life.

The only trace of him was the faint stain on your dress and the slight blush on your cheeks as you joined Abigail again.

‘… somebody got lucky’ she simply muttered, as she twirled her glass, another one in your hands, as your eyes searched for Duncan, he joined a few of the investors, but your eyes diverted immediately from that sight, worried the connection might be seen and questioned ‘… at least one of us got laid tonight’.

You simply elbowed her, as you smiled lovingly at the sponsors.

But you definitely felt rebirthed after the restroom session.

Maybe you were wrong about not seeing him again.

Not that you hadn’t to wait much to meet him again.

That morning you had been asked to take part at a reunion of the stable, alongside a few sponsors that you had found at the latest event, it was a way to get them to know the ‘talents’ they’d fund, and as you expected old and older people to approach you, you were surprised to find Duncan standing there.

Hadn’t he been a complete stranger to the F1 platform?

And as your grew nervous and more nervous, your stable director came up to you and Abigail, slinging an arm over you both as he moved to get you and present you to him, making you blush as much as he did, but he was extremely professional.

You couldn’t, when you discovered he was your newest sponsor.

‘Girls let me introduce to you both our latest sponsor’ your boss commented softly ‘Duncan Shepherd’.

And he was Duncan fucking Shepherd.

The heir to the Shepherd foundation.

What the fuck had you done?

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Duncan Shepherd (I don’t really have a taglist anymore, so if you are interested on being there for Michael do let me know, and I’ll add you, if I ever think about writing something for him again!):

@blakewaterxx​, @melodylangdon, @avocodys​, @ahsbitch​, @littlegirlsdontplaynice​, @accio-rogers​