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robbysreaders · 1 month ago

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pairing: Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x f!reader warnings: not beta read, barely proof read oops word count: 3k idk what happened i started with the bar scene and then felt like it needed some lead up and here we are notes: be kind to me, i am not a writer but these doctors have awoken a monster in me.

Robby got roped into a frontline workers’ talk at a local elementary school.

Shen’s mom’s friend is the principal if some public school and somehow that’s how Robby ends up walking into a fluorescent-lit elementary school foyer the same morning Shen’s leaving for his bachelor party weekend.

“You owe me big time, buddy.” he texts Shen.

“We’re naming our firstborn Robby,” Shen fires back.

“You know I’ll hold you to that,” he replys

He walks in with AirPods in, sunglasses still on, looking a bit lost. You glance up from your clipboard and do a double take.

He pops one AirPod out just as you mutter, “Oh… you’re not Dr. John Shen.”

“Nope, I’m not. He’s on a boat somewhere. Bahamas, I think. You’ve got me instead. Dr. Michael Robinavitch. Older. Not as good-looking.” taking his sunglasses off.

“I never said that,” you say, blush creeping up your neck. “I think he must’ve told our principal and it didn’t get passed along. No worries—I’ll just update my intro slide.”

“Sorry for the switch-up,” he says, finally meeting your eyes properly, and holding the look a moment too long.

“Really, it’s fine. Come on, I’ll show you to the gym. Kids will be filing in soon. Just a quick overview of what you do, your schooling, then a few questions. You’ve got backup—a fire chief, a nurse, an EMT. You’re not on the hook for the whole thing.”

As you walk, he points to a motivational poster taped to the wall: a kitten dangling from a tree branch.

“‘Hang in there.’ Very ER-core.”

You nod, straight-faced. “It’s more for the teachers than the students.”

He chuckles.

He introduces himself to a room of squirming third to fifth graders with “So I work in a place where people try to die and I spend most of my time convincing them not to. It’s great.”

They’re hooked.

He talks about trauma bays, night shifts, a time he held someone’s heart in his hands. The kids go wild.

One kid asks if he’s famous.

Another asks if he’s seen poop.

A third says: “You look like Iron Man.”

Robby: “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

After the assembly wraps up, your work bestie sidles up to you.

“So we’re just gonna ignore that Dr. McHottie was eye fucking you the whole time?”

You don’t look up from the stack of worksheets you’re grading. “Literally no idea what you’re talking about.”

She tilts her head. “You should’ve gotten his number. Or I should have. What do you think they’d say if we just called the hospital?”

“I think it violates HIPAA.”

She shrugs. “I don’t think that you know what HIPAA is.”

You roll your eyes.

But the universe isn’t done.

Later, still riding the post-event adrenaline, you stop at the grocery store on your route home. This day earned you cake and a bottle of wine. You’re crouched down in the wine aisle, scanning for the cheapest red on the shelf, when someone clears their throat behind you.

“I think you’re better off with a white. With, uh, berry chantilly cake,” he says, peeking into your basket.

You look up. It’s him.

“An ER doctor and a sommelier? A modern renaissance man.”

“SAT words. The future’s in good hands,” he teases.

“So what’s your wine recommendation then?” you say standing up.

“Oh, I don’t know shit about wine.”

You laugh, and the silence lingers a beat too long.

“I—” “Not—” You speak at the same time.

“Ladies first,” he smiles.

“I was just going to thank you again for coming this morning. Not to show bias, but you were definitely the kids’ favorite.”

“Yeah, the heart story always kills. No pun intended.”

“Well, they had plenty of questions after you left. I told them they missed their chance.”

“I could give you my number. Y’know, in case more vital questions pop up. Or… you could use it to talk to me. Maybe even plan a time for me to take you out?”

You chuckle. “That line work on every elementary school teacher you try to pick up?”

“So far I’m one for one.”

“Not sure that’s statistically significant,” you reply, handing him your phone.

You text him your name—just your name and a smiley.

His phone starts ringing. He glances at it, then winces.

“I’m so sorry—I have to take this. Yeah… I’m just around the block. Okay. Be there in seven.” He turns to you, regret softening his expression. “Really sorry. I’ll text you later?”

“Of course, Dr. Robinavitch. Go save lives.”

”Everyone calls me Robby, or you can call me Michael” he says heading out. Just before the door closes, he glances back once more.

Later, you’re finally home. Glass of red in hand, cozy on the couch. You scroll, half-buzzed from the wine and the day, when a new text pops up:

Michael: My research says champagne’s actually the move next time—for the cake, I mean.

You grin.

You: Not a ton of room in the budget for a Thursday night champagne toast on a public school salary. Think I’ll stick to my $9 red.

You snap a selfie: you, the wine, a smirk.

Michael: Could be my treat? Next Thursday?

Followed by a link to a cozy bar you’ve been wanting to try.

Your fingers hover for only a second before typing:

You: It’s a date ❤️

You get there first.

The bar is small, dim, and full of mismatched chairs and candlelight. The kind of place where couples whisper over charcuterie. You’re nursing a glass of something bubbly, trying to look casual and not like you checked your makeup in your phone camera twelve times already.

Then the door creaks open, and there he is.

Button-down rolled at the sleeves, hair mussed just enough to look effortless—though he’d never admit it took longer than it should’ve. He spots you instantly and smiles like he doesn’t do that often. Like it caught him off guard too.

“You clean up nice,” you say as he slides into the chair across from you.

“You clean up… irresponsibly good,” he says, raising his eyebrows and making you laugh.

You clink glasses and dive straight into easy conversation. It flows, faster than either of you expected. He tells you about the time a raccoon got into the ambulance bay. You tell him about a class trip gone wrong and how a goat chased the entire third grade around a petting zoo.

There’s food—fancy grilled cheese, olives, tiny things with aioli—and more wine. You talk about work, but not too much. You learn he’s been at The Pitt longer than he planned. That he’s not from Pittsburgh, but ended up staying because… well, because.

You don’t push.

He watches you talk with his chin resting on one hand, doing that thing again—looking at you like you’re a puzzle he doesn’t mind not solving.

Midway through dessert, a berry cream tarte— the closest thing they had to the cake you bonded over a week ago— he leans in a little.

“Be honest,” he says. “What’d you actually think when I walked into the school?”

You smirk. “I thought you were a dad who got lost on his way to drop off a forgotten lunchbox.”

Robby laughs. “Brutal.”

“Okay, and also… I thought, oh no, he’s hot.”

He raises his glass. “That’s better.”

He offers you a hand to help you out of the booth and follows beside you, hand barely there at your lower back.

You’re standing outside, the city quiet in that just-past-bedtime way. There’s a light breeze and the smell of something warm from a nearby bakery.

“I had fun,” you say.

“Me too,” he replies. “Thanks for not fleeing halfway through.”

“Thanks for not turning out to be a wine snob.”

“I told you, I know nothing about wine. I was just trying to impress you. I was frantically Googling wine recommendations so i could have a reason to chat with you.”

You both laugh, and then there's a pause. A beat of quiet.

He tilts his head. “So, uh… what’s the move here?”

You step forward. “Well, you did save a lot of lives this week.”

“And you wrangled children into making a thank-you card with the word ‘trauma’ spelled wrong.”

“Tramua is the French spelling,” you deadpan.

That makes him laugh again—but softer this time.

Then he kisses you. Slow and warm, like he’s been thinking about it since the grocery store.

When you pull back, he looks at you like he wants to say something—but doesn’t.

Instead, he laces his fingers with yours.

“Did you park around here?”

“I walked. I’m only a few blocks away.”

“Can I walk you home? Make sure you get there safely.”

You smile. “Of course. It’s that way,” you say, pointing left.

He releases your hand just long enough to move to the curb side, then grabs it again without a word.

You walk in comfortable silence. That kind of quiet that doesn’t need filling.

“This is me,” you say as you reach your stoop. “I’d invite you up for a nightcap, but… it is a school night.”

Robby chuckles. “Can I kiss you again?”

You don’t answer—you just lean in. And suddenly you’re a teenager again, making out on your front porch under a flickering streetlamp.

This time, he’s the one to pull back first, forehead resting against yours. “Alright,” he murmurs. “Guess I have to be the responsible one.”

You steal a few more kisses anyway, laughing softly, before finally saying goodnight and slipping inside.

You’re curled up in bed, grading a stack of vocabulary quizzes, red pen in hand, when your phone buzzes:

Michael: Made it home. Thanks for a great night.

You: I had an amazing time. Up until I got home and got a paper cut on a stack of quizzes I need to finish before tomorrow.

Michael: Sounds serious. I can’t diagnose over text. Could I see it in person? Maybe Saturday?

You: I’d love that, but I won’t be in town—I can’t believe this didn’t come up. I leave tomorrow for an elementary STEM conference. Riveting, I know. I’ll be back Wednesday.

Michael: My schedule’s rough next week. Could you do Friday?

You: One date in and we’re already juggling calendars. I think that’s a good omen 😊

But yes—I’ll pencil you in for Friday.

Michael: Pencil? Ouch. That kind of hurts.

You: Okay, okay. Permanent marker. Color coded. Red for Robby.

Michael: That’s more like it ;)

The days go fast—seminars, lectures, hands-on demos. You barely stop moving.

But every spare second you get, you’re texting him.

Sometimes flirty. Sometimes funny. Sometimes just: Here’s what I’m eating. What about you?

It’s been a while since you’ve been in something like this. But it’s never felt this easy. And you’re really hoping he feels the same way.

Little do you know.

It’s almost time for handoff , and shockingly the ER is in a lull which gives the team time to strike an inquisition on Robby. Dana kicks it off, perched on a nurses station desk.

“Alright Robinovitch, spill”

He looks at her over his glasses, “I just finished handing off to Shen, theres nothing else to spill.”

“You’re smiling.”

“No I’m not.” he says with a frown.

“All week your face is trying so hard not to smile, it’s giving your wrinkles wrinkles.”

Shen turns from the drawer hes been rummaging in for snacks. “Wait, are we talking about how Robby’s been… weirdly chill?”

“I’m not chill.”

“You told a med student that it was alright, we all make mistakes sometimes.”

“I did not.”

“You did. I was there,” Dana grins. “Who are you?”

Robby leans back in his hair, sips his coffee. “Maybe I’m growing. Emotionally.”

Dana gasps. “Oh my God. He’s in love.”

Robby chokes slightly on his drink. “I’m sorry?”

“You’ve had your nose in your phone every free moment you’ve had.” Dana adds. “You’ve taken real breaks where you go talk on the phone in the ambulance bay.”

Robby sets his cup down, but he’s not denying it. Just smirking like someone caught red-handed.

“Alright who’s the lucky lady?”

“You don’t know her and you’ll never know her.”

Shen looks like he’s doing calculus in his head and leans in. “Wait this started when I was on my trip, oh my god, did you meet a hot mom at the elementary school?”

Robby pauses. Just long enough.

“Holy shit, I don’t owe you any more – you got your repayment a hot MILF.”

“Oh my God,” Dana says.

“Jesus Christ, she’s not a mom, she’s a teacher”.

There’s a beat of silence before Dana grins. “You know what? I love this for you.”

Robby rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue.

“Wait,” Shen says. “Does she know you’re, like, emotionally stunted?”

“She’s a 3rd grade teacher. I think she’s prepared.”

Dana hops down. “I’m gonna need details.”

“You’re not getting details.”

Friday rolls around and you’re more excited than you’ve ever been for a second date. It’s cozy and dimly lit—more plants than light fixtures, menus scribbled on chalkboards, and the faint buzz of a bar that feels like a well-kept secret.

You spot him at the bar, already seated towards the back. He’s dressed down again, but there’s something intentional about it—like someone who spent an extra minute wondering what shirt to wear.

He catches your eyes and smiles like he forgot how to do that for a while until recently.

“You’re punctual,” he says, clearly pleased.

“You’re early,” you reply, shrugging off your coat. “I was promised a perpetually late, cynical doctor.”

“Tragic. He’s been replaced by a man who googled ‘cozy date spots that don’t feel like you’re trying too hard.’”

You laugh. “And did it recommend this place?”

“Nope. Shen’s girlfriend did. Which I now realize makes this deeply traceable.”

Your eyes widen. “Wait—do they know?”

Robby sighs. “Dana cornered me in central. I didn’t confirm or deny. Shen said I was glowing. It was… a dark time.”

You smirk.

The food is good—small plates, easy to share. The conversation is even better.

He opens up, just a little—enough to mention the long hours, how emergency medicine pulls you in like a rip current, how sometimes it feels like it’s the only thing he’s really good at.

You tell him about your student who tried to fake a cough for three weeks to get out of a math test, and the tiny triumphs that feel like wins no one else sees.

He watches you talk, head tilted slightly, the corner of his mouth pulled into a lazy smile. His fingers rest near yours on the table. Not touching. Not quite.

Finally, he says, “I’ve gotta be honest—I haven’t really… done this in a while.”

“Tapas?”

He chuckles. “No, like—dating. Letting someone in. It’s easier to stay busy. Stay… guarded, I guess.”

You nod. “Well, I haven’t really dated someone who sees more blood before lunch than most people do in a year, so.”

“So we’re both out of practice.”

“Guess we’ll have to wing it.”

He leans in and kisses you. Slow. Deliberate. This one without surprise. This one because he wanted to all night.

You’ve fallen into a comfortable cadence. You see him a few times a week, more often than you thought you would, but you don't complain. You love his company.

Your schedules do still clash at times.

You planned to go home after parent-teacher conferences. Michael had already mentioned he had plans—finally joining his coworkers for a long-overdue drink after weeks of skipping out.

It doesn’t take much to convince you to meet your own colleagues for a post-conference drink. It’s been a day, and you deserve it.

But as you walk into the bar, you spot a familiar profile near the corner.

You don’t even hesitate. With a little liquid courage in hand, you stroll over and place a hand on his shoulder.

“So… they really just let anyone in here nowadays?”

Michael turns, eyes lighting up in that way that makes your stomach dip. “How’d you find me?”

“Coincidence. We needed to lick our wounds after the parent-teacher conference firing squad.”

One of the guys at the table leans toward the person next to him. “Ahhh. This is the teacher.”

Michael grins and slides his arm around your waist, his hand resting easily at your hip. “Right, where are my manners?” he says introducing you to the team.

You smile, trying not to let the arm-around-your-waist thing short-circuit your brain. “It’s so nice to meet you all. I’ll get back to my workplace complain-fest and let you return to yours.”

You squeeze his shoulder lightly, but before you step away, his hand shifts on your waist, catching your attention. He leans in and lowers his voice just for you.

“If you head out before we do… come say bye?”

You meet his eyes and nod. “Of course.”

The moment you slide into your seat, your coworkers pounce.

“What the hell was that about?”

“You don’t have friends outside of school.”

“Thanks for introducing us to your hot doctor friends???”

“Wait—HOLY SHIT, was that Dr. McHottie with his arm around your waist? Did I miss a chapter?!”

You laugh and give them the short version. You field a rapid-fire round of teasing, eye-rolls, and maybe a few not-so-subtle attempts to angle to get set up with his coworkers, but eventually the conversation drifts to who cried in the hallway today, who mispronounced “photosynthesis,” and whose turn it is to deal with the PTA bake sale disaster.

Your group starts calling it a night. Long day, longer week. You say your goodbyes and make your way back toward Michael’s table, which has thinned out significantly as well.

He stands when he sees you. “My friends couldn’t hang. I’m calling it a night too—just wanted to say bye.”

“You’re more than welcome to stay if you want another drink, honey,” Dana offers, eyes twinkling.

“Oh, I couldn’t impose—”

“You could never,” Michael says, standing and lightly touching your elbow. “What are you drinking?”

You smile. “Whatever you’re having.”

You settle in at the table. The conversation is easy, flowing from hospital horror stories to favorite dive bars to why Dana is banned from karaoke at two different establishments.

Michael returns with drinks, sliding yours to you and casually resting his hand on your thigh under the table, thumb tracing slow circles that make it a little hard to concentrate on anything Dana is saying.

You laugh, you listen, you really like his friends.

The convos come to a close and you all start heading out. You shrug on your coat, and Michael helps, fingers brushing lightly down your arm.

“Want to walk me home?”

He smile. “I’d love that.”

The conversation is light—teasing, wandering, nothing too deep. You talk about favorite childhood snacks and your worst Halloween costumes. He tells you how Jack once sliced his palm on a pineapple slicer and tried to pretend it wasn’t bleeding.

As you reach your apartment steps, you stop and turn to him.

“That was really fun,” you say, quietly. “I like your friends. I hope I didn’t make anything awkward.”

“Not at all,” he replies. “They loved you.”

“Good. Glad I passed the first big test.”

He chuckles. “Teachers and their testing.”

There’s a pause. Then: “So… want to come up?” you ask, voice soft but steady.

He hesitates, not pulling away. “I’d really like to. But I just came off a twelve-hour shift, and I’ve probably had two more drinks than I should’ve. If I sit down, I’m going to be half-asleep in seconds.”

You take his hand and start walking him toward your door.

“Then that’s settled,” you say. “Can’t have you falling asleep in the Uber.”

You open the door, letting the warm light spill into the hallway, and look back at him with a little smile.

He follows you in without another word.

You flick on the light and immediately cringe.

“Wow. Sorry. My place looks like my classroom exploded in here.”

Michael steps in behind you, taking in the scattered worksheets, the pile of books on your couch, and the half-folded laundry draped over a chair.

“You should see the trauma bay on a Tuesday,” he says, tossing his jacket over the back of a stool. “This is a spa by comparison.”

You kick aside a rogue glue stick. “I did mean to clean today, but then 30 small humans and their guardians demanded to know if their kid is ‘thriving academically’ while also asking what ‘phonics’ actually is.”

He snorts.

You pad to the kitchen and grab two glasses of water, handing one to him. “Doctor’s orders.”

He grins. “Responsible and charming.”

You sit on the couch, tucking your legs underneath you. He follows, moving slowly—like someone who’s used to being on his feet for twelve hours and finally has permission to stop.

He slouches into the other end of the couch, long legs stretched out, one arm thrown over the backrest. He takes a sip of water and closes his eyes for a second, just breathing.

“I’m gonna fall asleep right here,” he murmurs.

You smile. “Go for it. My couch has a strict no-judgment zone.”

There’s a long, easy silence after that. Not awkward—just soft.

Eventually, you get up and offer him a hand “you’re not sleeping on the couch, come on”

He reaches for your hand —warm fingers curling around yours for just a second longer than necessary.

He follows you to your room, hands still intertwined. It’s not the first time you’ve shared a bed, but it is the first time you’ve shared one without hooking up before. It all feels very intimate.

There’s a surgical precision to how he fits into your evening routine that leaves you a little breathless as you settle into bed.

“Night,” he murmurs wrapping an arm around you and nuzzling in.

You squeeze his hand once, gently. “Goodnight, Michael.”

#the pitt #the pitt drabble #michael robinavitch #dr. robinavitch #dr. robby x reader #dr. robby #p attempts to start writing

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coralquill · 2 months ago

Note

LADs headcanon for witch mc who causes so much chaos with her little talking cat familiar. Just how they'd handle all the explosioives, floating books, etc. or maybe how they found out 🤔

Ahoy, thank you for requesting! ngl that was a fun piece I enjoyed writing. hope you enjoy!

pairings: xavier x reader || zayne x reader || rafayel x reader || sylus x reader || caleb x reader

contents: comedy, reader is a witch with a cat familiar || wc.602

— XAVIER

Xavier would initially welcome your cat into his apartment. But once he learnt it could talk, he tried to kick it out countless and countless of times, jealous it might take away your attention.

He'd wake up from naps to find the whole apartment in chaos and disarray after you had practiced your spells on his stuff.

And to top it off, he'd always find your cat perched on the headboard, surely staring at him all throughout his nap.

What a day...

— ZAYNE

Zayne would sigh for the fifth time that day, seeing as you commanded the documents and files of his work to fly around in his office. He needed them to finish up work and call it a day, but apparently, you had other plans.

At least your familiar cat was napping on his lap, allowing him to pet it. That was a first. Cats usually ran away from him.

"Behind my ear, please," the cat demanded.

Zayne stopped mid-action. An oh was all he could utter before he did as instructed.

The cat talked.

— RAFAYEL

Rafayel wasn't new with witchery or witches, as he used to work with one long ago. Though he would jump out of his skin upon knowing you have a cat familiar following you around, and his soul would leave his body the moment he'd hear it talk.

After getting used to your cat and your shenanigans, he'd ask you to try out a new way of painting with him. Flying paints and brushes would fill the high areas of the studio, swirling through the air as they created splashes of art on the canvases.

"That's a job well done, cutie! Thank you for helping me!" Rafayel would thank you for your efforts, standing up to admire the artworks from afar.

"I do agree." Your cat joined him.

Thump.

You turned towards the sound, only to find Rafayel passed out and sprawled on the floor, your cat tapping its paw against his cheeks to wake him up.

Oops. Guess Rafayel hadn't fully gotten used to your familiar.

— SYLUS

Sylus was used to chaos and disorder, his line of work never offered peace and especially with Luke, Keiran, and Mephisto, the chaos-inducing trio, working under him.

He'd ask you to borrow your powers to wreak havoc and threaten those who cross his path.

Your cat followed you everywhere, supplying you with spells materials and potions ingredients. It reminded him of his relationship with Mephisto—providing him with intel, footage, and sensitive case files.

He didn't pay the cat any mind—until it spoke.

"Your cat talks." Sylus noted, utterly unfazed, as if talking cats was a standard part of his afternoons.

"Oh, whoops, I forgot to tell you." You smiled sheepishly.

And your cat snickered.

Pursing his lips, Sylus nodded in acceptance.

He couldn't say it was the most unusual thing he had ever witnessed. He'd seen stranger.

— CALEB

Caleb wouldn't mind the chaos you'd create, as he'd use his gravity Evol to tidy up after. He'd let you have your fun, commanding brooms to have sword fights mid-air, and tea leaves creating whirlwinds in teacups. But no matter what, everything got returned to its rightful place at the end of the day.

That was until he passed the mirror hung at the hallway—

"What's cookin', good lookin'?"

Ah, you had enchanted the mirror to flirt with passersby. Classic.

"Got lost in your eyes? You've been staring at your reflection for a while."

And that was one of the few things he had zero clue on how to fix.

"Pip-squeak! The mirror is feeling flirty again!"

likes and reblogs will always be appreciated ♡ let me know what you think!

— set sail for more tales, sailor: ⚲masterlist

— until next tide, thanks for docking by ｡𖦹°‧𓇼

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riddlesbunny · 1 year ago

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my sister's keeper

summary: Aemond intends to send you away to protect you after he starts the war, but Aegon isn't ready to let you go.

pairing: Aegon & Aemond x Sister!Reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: Explicit smut, mention of death, incest, threesome, p in v sex, oral (m&f receiving), voyeurism, male masturbation, infidelity (reader is married to Aemond), lactation kink, choking, cum play/eating, spit, Aegond kiss!! (oop) 18+ MDNI

note: Uhhhh. I'm sorry??? I feel like I just breezed through this, idk I was horny lol. Feedback is appreciated!

You’ll never forget the look on Aemond’s face when he first arrived back to the Red Keep from his journey to Storm’s End. Your family was desperate in the inevitable, upcoming war against Rhaenyra so Aemond had been sent to help strike up a proposal between one of Lord Borros’ daughters and the youngest son of the late king Viserys, Daeron Targaryen.

Sitting in the large bed of your shared chamber, you had been anxiously awaiting his arrival, chewing your fingernails down to bloody nubs.

“Aemond!” you practically leapt into his arms when he appeared sopping wet in the doorway. Overjoyed to see he’d returned in one piece, but something was off, something was wrong. He was vacant, like he had seen a ghost.

“Lucerys Velaryon is dead.”

With that simple sentence you knew your lives would be changed forever.

“You cannot just make me disappear,” you said to your husband through gritted teeth, as your voice trembled, lump in your throat forming as tears threatened to fall from your eyes.

“If we are not here they will just go looking for us.”

“Anywhere is safer than here, my love.” Aemond answered coolly.

“If you think this decision was not difficult to make, you are wrong. It is simply what's best for the both of you. You and the babe will be staying in Dorne until I know for certain that it is safe for you here.”

“But –”

“But nothing! This is not up for debate,” he growled at you, “the decision has been made and it is final!” His words cut through you like a knife.

“You cannot make a decision like this. You are not the king.”

“No “ he retorted, “but I am your husband, therefore, when it comes to you and my child, what I say goes!”

You got up and exited your shared chambers with haste, not wanting Aemond to see you cry.

Your bare feet padded against the cold stone floor of the Red Keep, the walls echoed and groaned as you made your way to your eldest brother’s chambers.

Aegon’s head perked up when he heard you come in. He stared at you sheepishly from behind his goblet of wine.

“Has he told you?”

Letting out a deep sigh, “he has.”

“I cannot leave you. I will not leave you, Aegon.”

“I know, I know,” he says, patting the spot next to him, motioning for you to come and sit.

“Our half-sister is unpredictable,” he replied calmly, “there’s no telling what she might do… not to mention, Daemon.”

As much as you did not want to admit it, both of your brothers were right. Accident or not, Rhaneyra’s son was dead. You would be a fool to believe she wouldn’t be out for blood.

Aegon pulled you into his lap, his cock already half hard. You kissed him deeply as he grinded his hips up into yours. You ran your fingers through his unruly silver hair, enjoying the feel of his mouth on you. Completely lost in the moment, you hadn’t heard Aemond enter the room.

He cleared his throat loudly to make his presence known.

“Aemond!”

Your brother-husband stalked into the room, his violet eye scanning over you with amusement.

“Oh please, do continue.”

Your chest rose and fell as you struggled to find the right words to say.

“Did you not hear me? I said continue,” Aemond repeated, as he approached you and Aegon.

“Aemond, this is not what it looks like —“

His brow furrowed at you as he gripped your chin forcing you to look him directly in the eye.

“Do you mistake me for a fool? You believed me to be unaware of your little arrangement?”

Still at a loss for words, you and Aegon just stared at your brother nervously. Aemond moved away a few inches and started to remove his tunic and his trousers. His cock strained hard against his small clothes, which he removed not long after. You gawked at him as he pumped his cock in his left hand, making his way back to you.

Aegon’s violet eyes beamed with excitement at this, pupils blown with lust. He took no time to nip at your neck, your earlobes, grinding against your core once again.

“I fear this is inappropriate,” you began.

“What’s inappropriate is you sneaking away from your husband to come fuck this wastrel,” Aemond began, his words thick with venom.

“Clearly, you want the both of us. So have us… while you still can.”

A slight moan left your lips as you tilted your head to the side, allowing Aegon easier access to your throat, your gaze never leaving Aemond’s, his expression unreadable as he nodded his head at you.

Aemond had his hand wrapped tightly around his cock, the tip bright red, lushed and angry, his arousal already dripping from the tip.

Aegon leaned down and wrapped his lips around your nipple, and began to suck harshly. Being that your babe was only two months old, you were lactating. A loud moan escaped your lips as you felt the milk begin to flow.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, “just like that. You’re doing so good.”

You could feel his cock twitching against your leg at your praise as he continued to ravenously lap at your breast.

As he switched to your other breast he sucked harder at your stiffened peak, the milk coming almost instantly. He palmed your abandoned breast with his large hand, squeezing gently. Shivers ran down your spine as the sweet feeling of relief washed over you once again.

A growl erupted from Aemond’s throat and he unexpectedly pulled Aegon away from your chest. To your utter surprise, he crashed his lips against Aegon’s, tasting your milk on his tongue. You watched with bewilderment as your husband passionately kissed your brother, tugging at his unruly hair, moaning into his mouth. Arousal seeped from your core and onto Aegon’s thighs. Aemond broke the kiss abruptly and stared at you.

Aegon’s hands gripped your waist, flipping you around so you were underneath him. Your eldest brother positioned you so you were laying on your back comfortably against the pillows. He nestled himself between your thighs and hastily hiked your nightgown up over your waist. You shivered as his warm breath fanned over your folds. Before you could blink his tongue was prodding at your entrance. Your hands flew to the back of his head on instinct, pulling him closer into your center.

Aemond approached you carefully. He tapped his cock against your lower lip a few times, a signal for you to open your mouth. Just as he did so, Aegon’s tongue had reached the right spot, causing your mouth to gape open as a loud moan escaped your lips. Aemond took this as an opportunity to forcefully shove his cock into your mouth. You felt a rush of pleasure as Aemond's cock filled your mouth. You began to suck and lick it, eager to make him moan even louder. Aegon's tongue continued to explore you as you pleasured Aemond, and you felt your body quiver with pleasure.

If you knew being with another man in his presence would have this effect on him, you would have brought your affair to light long ago.

With a low groan of your name he pumped in and out of your mouth mercilessly, the salty taste of his precum evading your tastebuds. The air left your lungs as you gagged around him. You could feel the pent up anger Aemond held for the entirety of the situation with each brutal buck of his hips. Ever so slowly he pulled back, giving the you the illusion he was going to give you a break. But before you were able to catch your breath, his cock found his way to the back of your throat again. The faster he went, tears began to stream down your face.

As bubbles of spit began to form around the corners of your mouth, you hollowed your cheeks to the best of your ability. With Aegon now three fingers knuckle deep in your cunt it was almost impossible for you to focus on Aemond; but as the pace of his thrusts quickened you knew he was going to cum soon. You moaned around his length, the vibrations making his cock twitch, you could feel every throb of the thick vein that ran along the underside of his cock.

“No,” Aemond growled as he pulled himself from your throat, “I need to feel your cunt around me.”

Aemond all but shoved Aegon away from you, almost knocking him off the large bed. Aemond lined his cock up with your center and sheathed himself inside of you with quickness.

As Aegon now sat on the upper left corner of the bed, he watched intently as Aemond’s cock disappeared into you repeatedly. One hand tugged at his painfully hard cock and the other wiped the tears from your cheeks.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he cooed, “look at how you take him so well,” he praised.

You nodded your head at him enthusiastically, pleasure overwhelming you. Aegon hooked his thumb into your mouth and you sucked and nipped at it intently.

There was no doubt that Aemond enjoyed the praise as well, snapping his hips even harder into your own. His cock bullied your sweet spot mercilessly. Your body tingled with a mix of pleasure and pain as Aemond's thrusts intensified; pressing hard against your cervix. His large hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing gently. The overwhelming sensation sent waves of ecstasy coursing through you, making it difficult to focus on anything else but the raw desire consuming your every thought.

“Fuck, Aemond, I’m going to cum!” you screamed as your hot waves of pleasure coursed through you.

Aegon watched intently as your orgasm wracked your entire frame, his own following not long after. He let out a loud groan as he came into his hand. He flashed an evil grin at Aemond as he brought his fingers to Aemond's mouth, shoving them down his throat.

Your husband gagged around his digits, sucking Aegon's release from them.

As the aftershock of your orgasm continued to pump though you, your cunt squeezed around Aemond’s cock. The depravity of it all overwhelmed him and Aemond came with a shudder. With one final thrust and a loud grunt, he was spilling himself inside of you.

As Aegon removed his fingers from your husband's throat, Aemond leaned over you, his cock still buried deep inside you.

"Open up, baby," he said before spitting directly into your mouth, a mixture of his saliva and Aegon's cum evident on your tongue. You swallowed with a contented hum.

Aemond pulled himself out of you and got up quickly.

You curled up in the bed next to Aegon, Aemond’s seed seeping out of you onto the sheets, sleep finding you almost immediately.

“She can stay here for the night,” Aemond said as he leaned down to kiss your sweat-drenched forehead.

Aegon frowned at his brother.

“Aemond, we cannot make her leave,” he rasped, desperation clear in his voice.

“I think she needs to leave now more than ever, brother. To ensure nothing like this ever happens again.”

A loud sigh escaped Aegon’s lips as he diverted his gaze from Aemond to you, pushing your hair out of your face, admiring your beauty.

“Enjoy your time with her tonight. She will be on her way to Dorne by morning.”

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summertiide · 5 months ago

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hence nothing remains except for our regrets

sometimes you just gotta smash your interests together like playdough!!! here's the Great God Grove gods in OFF's style!

shoutout to @weirdalchemy for the sketch of Huzzle Mug's pose and a ton of help in working out the other ones!

the full-sized + unsprited sketches / some assorted rambling under the cut!

link to the bizzyboys!

turning them into little 200px max sprites lost some of the detail i really enjoyed on some of them (thespius basically lost all of his hair flowers, and bauhauzzo lost a few nice rock-chipping details i was super fond of u_u), so i figured i'd include my sketches also!

a few extra design notes from while i was trying to figure everything out

i wanted to keep Miss Mitternacht really simple, and tried to lean into the early-game boss sort of look! (i was also trying to remember how to get the sketchy-pencil texture to translate into the smaller versions, oops)

Cobigail and Inspekta were the first ones i thought of when i decided to make all of them! Cobigail's jumpscare face was an instant pick, even if i lost all of those extra little lines in the spriting process

drawing typewriters is a nightmare. people who draw Click Clack all the time at his typewriter are stronger than i could possibly imagine

i got stuck on Thespius for a while, and he was the second to last one i finished - he's a lover, not a fighter!!! i wound up sort of trying to take an angle similar to Sugar's in OFF, an optional boss who you have to deliberately go for (i have this distinct vision in my mind of a boss track for him called "Swansong")

Bauhauzzo is meant to look kind of stuck in the ground, like an obelisk!

Inspekta was taken for sort of a "busted doll" look, from that bit in the art book where they said he was animated to "move like a plushie"! he was my favorite of the bunch to work on, even if the hands were kind of a Situation

it was kind of a bummer that more of King's eye-veil didn't turn out in the sprite, but i couldn't quite find a way to make it show up without making it hide her face too much! people drawing her posing with the sword was a huge source of inspiration, though, it just felt right

i might do more of these sometime soon - maybe the Bizzyboys as a sort of group fight? i also thought about doing a Godpoke Batter type of look but i couldn't quite figure out how to finagle that, but i may try again later on!

#my art #great god grove #great god grove spoilers #i have been working on this for like four days now. oof ouch my wristssssss #it's such a process to make OFF-style sprites but its genuinely so much fun i might try to do some for other things sometime!#cw eyestrain #<- just in case those backgrounds are Too Much for some folks

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jellymochii · 6 months ago

Text

Stray Kids - What Kind of Dominant are They? (Headcanons)

❣ pairings: ot8 skz x fem!reader

❣ genre: smut, fluff

❣ wc: 2.3k

❣ cw: HEAVYYYY SMUT, bondage, bdsm, pet play, dom/sub relationship, sensory deprivation, overstimulation, unprotected sex (please don't), cnc

↪author's note: hello! got in the mood to make some skz hcs. i might do sub!skz next OR dom!txt hehe. hope you enjoy!

**THIS IS PURELY A WORK OF FICTION AND DOES NOT REFLECT THE TRUE NATURE OF THE PEOPLE MENTIONED**

❣ Chan - Daddy Dom

Pretty much a classic right here, we all knew this was coming.

Is so doting and loving on you!! He loves taking care of you and spoiling you in every way possible.

You're feeling icky from period cramps? He'll get you sweet treats and massage your worries away. Bad day at work? He's right there holding your face gently and peppering you with kisses.

Loves making you feel good in any way possible. He'll make sure to make you cum at least once before fucking you, and always fucks you slow and deep–just how you like it!

You misbehave though? Yeah, you're in for it.

Will never stop telling you how good you make him feel. Lots of praises like “My sweet girl, always so tight and warm.” Or “Ffffuuuuck you make daddy feel so good, princess.”

Pulls you over his lap and hikes up your skirt, and then spanks you as many times as he sees fit. Lost count? Oops, guess he's restarting from one.

At that point there's tears in your eyes from the sting of your swollen red asscheeks as you're begging him for mercy, telling him you're sorry.

If you really misbehaved he'll pretend like he forgives you and finger your cunt–only to deny you sweet release.

“I thought I told you already, bad sluts don't get to cum, sweetheart~”

If you've been extra mouthy he'll shut you up quickly by grabbing handfuls of your hair and shoving his cock down your throat.

Don't worry, his aftercare is always immaculate, regardless of how good you were that night. Warm baths and sweet words for his baby!

❣ Lee Know - Brat Tamer

Everyone act surprised. We all know the man loves a challenge.

And you, his little bratty baby? Buckle up, you're in for a long night.

Has all kinds of toys to punish you with–cuffs, ropes, whips, etc.

Definitely handcuffs your wrists and ankles to the bed while spanking you repeatedly. You shouldn't have been a brat, now should you?

Whispers absolute filth into your ear, and you secretly love every part of it. Things like “Fucking slut, this was supposed to be a punishment–and look at you, you're dripping.” And “Aww are you crying? Poor girl, I couldn't give less of a shit, huh?”

Definitely not as nice as Chan when it comes to spanking you. At least Chan has the mercy to restart, but Minho? Yep, that's an extra 20.

If he's in a really bad mood, he'll tie you up and shove a remote controlled vibrator up your already leaking pussy and have you at his mercy as he controls every pulse to come out of it. (You're not cumming any time soon.)

May also just deny you entirely and watch you helplessly whine and cry as he jacks himself off in front of you, not giving you a single taste of his sweet juices.

Listen, he's not a complete monster though. Once everything is said and done, he'll still give you the best aftercare.

It's all a game to him. He looooves when you're extra bratty, or when you try and fight back–it turns him on even more, knowing he'll break you down entirely into submission until you're a babbling mess.

Cleans you up nicely with a warm washcloth and makes sure you pee and drink lots of water. He'll also make sure you have a nice warm meal filled with lots of protein to get your energy back.

You're still his baby at the end of the day. Just a very, very bratty one.

❣ Changbin - Pleasure Dom

Oh my sweet Binnie…he's so whipped for you.

He's at your every beck and call, and makes you feel so loved and protected–even in the sheets.

He knows how ridiculously strong he is compared to you, and how you look oh so little caged under his large and muscular body. (He loves it.)

But he's still gentle! He knows he could break you if he wanted to, which is why he treats you like a porcelain doll in bed, and gives you everything you want in more.

But man, you really drive him crazy, y'know?

He can't help it how good you make him feel, your pussy sucking his girthy length in and your walls fluttering around him. Sometimes it's all too much for him.

Takes a LOT of mental and physical strength to not pound into you like a starved wild animal, but sometimes he just can't stop himself, your pussy is just too good.

And so trust, you will get pounded into a brutal pace, but he's gonna make you see stars with how good you feel.

You can tell he's close by how his normal grunts and huffs turn into high pitched whines and moans, his muscles start quivering from all the sensations filling up his system.

Whispers things like “Aigoo, baby, I'm sorry. I-I can't help it, it's too good~!” And “Shhh I know, baby, just let daddy use you for a little.”

Huge load. That's all I gotta say, your poor cunt is leaking from the generous load of his love he's bred into you.

Aftercare king. The best and warmest cuddles you could ever ask for.

He's so in love with you, please tell him what a good job he did and how much you love him!

❣ Hyunjin - Service Dom

A service Dom is typically someone who enjoys inflicting or giving any sort of stimulation to their sub for their own pleasure.

Lover boy Hyunjin is no exception. You're his muse, after all. He wants to explore every part of your body in any way he can.

He watches your scrunched up face while biting his lip as his fingers dig into that sweet spot you love, the other hand fondling your breasts or pinching your nipple as he watches attentively for any sign of pleasure.

Definitely into sensory deprivation. He loves having you blindfolded, handcuffed, and even likes having cute earmuffs on you so you can only feel him using your sense of touch.

Ice cubes, paintbrushes, anything non-conventional that stimulated your nerves in any way. The way you twitch ever so slightly with just a light touch to your clit gets his cock soooo hard.

May also take photos of you while you're in different positions (with your consent, of course) to have for later to either jerk off with or paint and save to his private collection.

If he's eating you out, he's got his plump lips sucking on your clit while his fingers twist in every direction of your sloppy pussy, all while humping the bed from how insanely turned on he is.

When you actually have sex, his hands are all over you. Even if he's sweating buckets and shaking from overstimulation, he's gonna make you cum as many times as he wants. He has to, in his mind.

The way your face contorts from pleasure and how your walls flutter around his cock is enough to make him cum, but he always restrains himself.

Uses his dick so skillfully. He knows your pussy inside and out, and thrusts himself into you mercilessly. Yeah, you're having multiple orgasms tonight.

“Nnngh, jagi–you're so beautiful, I could hah- stay like this forever.” Or “C'mon honey, just one more, for me?”

Major cuddlebug afterwards. He'll clean you up eventually, but for now he just wants to hold you and bask in your presence and tell you how much he adores you.

❣ Han - Dom Tendencies

I don't think Han is any kind of traditional Dom, I more so assume that he has Tendencies that match up with your typical Dom from time to time.

Kinda cocky and more dominant at first when you two are fucking. Lots of “Yeah, you like that huh?”

As he gets closer though, his brain becomes more and more mushy. He's so drunk off your pussy that his head fogs up like he's in a trance.

All he can focus on at this rate if you, and how pretty you look with your nose all scrunched up underneath him.

Once you get close and start ng things like “Ha-Hannie please, I’m gonna cum~!” It's all over for him.

He's suddenly forgotten how to be dominant entirely and all he can think about is wanting to cum. You could basically say your pussy was so good that it made him go stupid.

This usually leads to him cumming before you, but if you cum before him? Oh poor boy, he's gonna malfunction.

“Jagi–angh, please cum for me, I'll do anything!” He'll say desperately pounding into you at an irregular pace, looking for any sort of stimulation.

The feeling of your walls slurping him in and coating his cock with your cum makes his eyes roll in the back of his head. You swear you can see his tongue sticking out like an ahegao.

And yet in true Dom fashion, he plugs you full of his babies–making sure every last drop seeds inside your cervix.

“Fuckfuckfuck I'm cummi- agh~!”

You're both totally wiped after that. He'll still pepper your face in sweet kisses and tell you how good you were, a few giggled mixed in between.

❣ Felix - Versatile Dom

Felix is very flexible in terms of pleasing you.

You want a softer, more love making session? He'll be right there with rose petals and candles. On the other hand, if you're wanting him to absolutely destroy you–he sure can!

Even through his cocky Dom exterior, much like changbin he's petrified of hurting you or going too far. You're his sweet baby, after all!

He uses his rich and deep voice to groan sweet nothings into your ear, he knows it drives you crazy.

When you are looking for something more kinky, he'll bust out a pair of pink fluffy handcuffs and that vibrator wand you love so much–and use it to push you farther than you've ever gone before in terms of overstimulation.

“Yeah? You like when I touch your clit like that, baby?” Or “Ohhh look at you dripping, my nasty little slut.”

Seeing you so obedient and helpless underneath him may scare his brain, but his tip throbs at the sight.

He's very generous when it comes to making you cum. He won't deny or torture you, but he loves teasing you for how squirmy and pathetic you are bound up like that.

His generosity (and slight sadism) peeks through when he makes you cum more times than you can count. And best believe, he’ll be pulling more out of you!

Creampies–lots of them.

Aftercare is always a must for both of you–kisses, cuddles and brownies in that order.

Moral of the story--he’s anyone you want him to be!

❣ Seungmin - Pet Owner Dom

Everyone act surprised part 2

Lee Know's evil counterpart in terms of brat taming. You wanna misbehave? You're gonna get treated like the animal you are.

He’ll put you in your kennel and tie your vibrator to your sopping cunt, leaving you there for as long as he sees fit.

“Awww, you're such a pathetic little puppy.” Or “Bad puppies go into the kennel, you know this. Or are you too dumb to remember, hmm?”

You've got the whole set at this point–ears, matching lingerie, and a collar with his initials engraved in it so everyone knows who you belong to.

Maybe if he's feeling nice he'll let you desperately hump his thigh for any sort of friction while teasing you.

And trust, YOU. WILL. BE. BRED.

Calls your ovulation period your “heat”, and knows how much his sweet puppy needs his cum when she's oh so desperate!

Yep, doggy style. It's both of your favorites–your brain goes fuzzy from how deep his tip kisses your cervix, and he loves hearing his puppy's whines and cries when she's close or overstimulated.

Tugs you by your collar when he's close, his breath becomes erratic and his limbs shake.

By the end of your playtime, there's so much cum seeping out of your cunt (you'll probably get plugged so you're bred properly)

Tells you how much he loves you and what a good puppy you are for him after!

❣ I.N. - Primal Dom

Oh my sweet innie

He really wants to be gentle and loving, and be the sweetheart Dom in bed.

But he simply cannot control his animalistic urges when he's around you.

He's pounding into you at a merciless and brutal pace, all while strangled cries and guttural moans spill from his mouth

He can't help it! His urges are just telling him to :(

Prefers raw any day, let's hope you're on birth control anyway

You almost wonder where this ungodly stamina has come from, especially on days when he has a lot of pent up frustration from practice–you've never been drilled in at this fast and rough of a pace.

Not a lot of words when he's close, he's breathing heavily as filthy moans growl into your ear. Almost as if he were saying “You made me like this.”

Huuuuge breeding desire. He needs to fill you up and make sure you're swollen with his kin in 9 months.

There's something so feral about him when he cums. It's the sweet release he’s been needing, but he’s so addicted to the way your walls take all of his seed in–so much so that you're in for another few rounds just so he can feel it again.

Poor baby, he's so mortified once he snaps out of it and realizes he basically ruined you. He uses gentle warm washcloths like Chan taught him to tend gently to all of your bruises.

Tons of reassurance and apologies spilling from his mouth, but you wouldn't have it any other way since you know how much he loves you.

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rebeccccccaaa · 1 year ago

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Poker Face!

_______________

Spencer Reid x Reader

:: It’s game night at Rossi’s, a little pasta al dente, poker chips from Emily’s place, and a little too much Italian red wine. Poker after hours becomes a new playing field when you and Spencer decide to finish your game of blackjack back in his place. ::

:: warnings :: smuttt! and super mushy gushy fluff, sex under the influence (both parties drank alcohol), strip poker (kinda you’re playing blackjack), afab!reader, no mention of contraceptives oops...

:: authors’ notes :: i didn’t realize until i finished the story that spencer probably has his own poker set, he’s literally from vegas; anyway thanks for all the love on my last fic too sweet, hope you guys enjoy this one just as much <3

WC~ 3.1 k

________________

“Ok, ok! That’s enough!” Emily shouted, swinging her glass around.

“Careful, Prentiss. This carpet is fine Italian wool. Gifted from my first mother-in-law,” Rossi scolded, Hotch chuckling beside him.

“You guys are relentless,” she continued.

“I can beat him, I know it!” you shouted, your eyes comically wide.

“No shot, sweetheart. Reid is literally banned from every casino in Vegas, you think you can really beat him?” Derek commented.

“I may not be banned from Vegas casinos, but I never lose Blackjack,” you argued.

“Honey, you’ve lost eight games in a row!” JJ shouted, laughing and holding her stomach.

“Nevermind that! I’m gonna beat you Reid, if it's the last thing I do,” you narrowed your eyes playfully at Spencer, who sat as dealer with a giant grin on his face.

“I hate to interrupt this incredibly captivating game of Blackjack, but I’m kicking you out. It's late and an old man’s got to get some rest,” Rossi interrupted, erupting a series of ‘Boo’s’ and groans.

“Come on, come on. Call your DD’s, call your taxi cabs. Or if you want to stay, you can start washing the dishes,” he bargained.

Suddenly, all at once, everyone stood up practically scrambling and giggling like kids to avoid cleaning up. Penelope, Emily, and Derek hopped into a cab and Hotch drove JJ home then himself considering he hadn't anything to drink that night. That left you and Spencer, lingering on the sidewalk nudging each other in a fit of giggles.

“I assume you’re gonna take a cab?” he asked you.

“That’s the plan.”

“So we can share since I don’t live far from you. I’ll walk from your place,” he suggested.

“Oh no, no. Look what I snatched when everyone started leaving,” you pulled out the briefcase of poker chips that Emily had brought for that night out of your tote, “We’re going to your place and finishing what we started.”

“Oh boy, you have no idea how long it's gonna take. We’re gonna be up all night!” Spencer laughed, and you gasped.

“You’re an asshole,” you shoved him, before calling a taxi.

You squeezed in the back of the cab, legs bumping against each other. You felt your skin light up, you’ve always felt a certain way about Spencer. I mean who wouldn’t? Well actually, not a lot of people. You always tried to hide the pangs of jealousy or your faces of reluctance whenever the women you were working with or interviewed on cases would flirt with him, unnecessarily albeit. This happened more often than you care to admit or notice.

You walked into Spencer’s apartment, tossing your bag on the couch before falling to your knees and putting the briefcase on his coffee table. You opened it up and began shuffling the cards, quite intensely to make sure Spencer wasn’t going to cheat. You knew he wasn’t, his brain was too smart, but you did it for confidence instead.

“Do you want anything to drink?” he asked from the kitchen.

“Whatcha you got?” you asked.

“I’ve got a couple of beers, probably a little old. Oh, I still have the bottle of wine that Rossi gave to us for the new year,” he told you.

“Oh! Bring the wine! We’ll drink the beers later,” you winked at him, “Let’s get the fucking party started.”

It was late into the night now. You lost count how many times you’d lost to Spencer already. Just a couple of hours passed, and the wine was almost finished. You and Spencer couldn’t stop laughing and wiggling around. As Spencer shuffled the deck, a request you made him do after every turn, you came up with a devilish idea. One that would definitely get you in trouble should the outcome be anything other than what you would hope.

“Ooh,” you cooed, mischievously.

“What?” Spencer questioned.

“Oh, nothing, just had an idea,” you were smirking, or rather trying really hard not to burst into laughter.

“This can’t be good,” he mumbled, shaking his head.

“Why don’t we spice things up, shall we?”

“No, no way,” Spencer already knew what you were going to say.

“Strip Poker!”

“No!” he shouted, a big smile on his face contradicting his words.

“What, you scared? Scared that suddenly I’m starting to beat you and you’re gonna have to take all your clothes off?” you teased.

“No, I am a gentleman and I’m not gonna sit through watching you take all your clothes to prove a point,” he argued sassily.

“You are way too confident for your own good, Dr. Spencer Reid. You’re just chicken.”

“Ok, fine then. You dealer, or am I?” he asked, pouring the last bit of wine into your cup.

“Why don’t you hit me this time,” you said.

“You got it,” he responded, “Care to shuffle while I grab the beers?”

“Of course. About time we crack those open,” you smiled widely.

Now sitting down, face to face. Staring intensely at each other for a moment, hints of mischief and amusement in both your eyes. As you shuffled the cards well, Spencer couldn’t help notice the way your eyes were practically sparkling in the warm light of his apartment. How soft your skin looked in the light too. He doesn’t know when it happened. If it happened just now, or maybe he’s always felt this way about you.

Maybe it was those times where he felt a little more protective over you than the others on more brutal cases. The feeling of responsibility for you, to guide you, when you first join the team since you were the same age. Or maybe it was when you let him practically talk your ear off about peculiar facts regarding the case you had wrapped up. The small smile of your face knowing he thrived in these moments. The sweet giggle you let out when Morgan and Prentiss groaned knowing he would begin yet another tangent.

Yeah, it was definitely then he realized how special you were and how much he wanted to keep you in his life; in more ways than one.

But in this moment, when you handed him the cards with the most devilish smirk on your face, Spencer felt a wave of avidity, longing for you more than he ever has before. He felt so conflicted about the game you were about to play. He respected you so much and yet craved to see you, to have you, in this very way for so long already. He didn’t know what to do. He dealt the cards however, entertaining the idea, and you tapped the table for cards before taking a big swig of your beer.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, Spencer’s breath hitched.

You took off your earrings first and Spencer quirked an eyebrow.

“What? Were you expecting me to take off my shirt right away?”

“No,” he shrugged before giving you the deck to shuffle again.

“I swear to-” you cursed, pulling off one of your rings this time.

Your shoes came off, then your socks. All your accessories were scattered on the table before you. The last game you stood up unbuttoning your pants. Spencer clenched his jaw, averting his eyes downward as you peeled your pants down your legs. It took quite literally everything in him to not drool over you. You sank back down to the ground, the bottom half of your body shielded by the table and Spencer looked back at you again. He dealt the cards. You asked for a card, and Spencer knew then you would lose. The probability was certain. When he hit Blackjack and you didn’t, Spencer gulped and you sighed in defeat.

Staring boldly at Spencer, you disrobed your last garment that would give you some kind of modesty. Your bra is on full display with nothing else but your pair of underwear. You had a crucial decision to make if you ended up losing again and you were seriously considering that would be the case, the butterflies erupting violently in your belly.

“We don’t have to keep going,” Spencer cleared his throat.

“And why would I do that?” Maybe it was the alcohol in your system that gave you this sudden courage, this seduction. You were starting to have fun seeing Spencer squirming on the couch, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple. You suddenly wanted to egg this round on as long as you can.

“Ok, then,” he muttered, as he dealt the cards, slowly this time.

Spencer had a face down card, assuming it was a value of ten like always, and an eight. You had a seven and a three, you were fucked. You needed an ace and you’d hit blackjack, or you could build up; but that’s risky. Maybe Spencer can go over. You had a chance, you know it. Your chest was moving fast and shallow, but your face was stoic and firm. Spencer on the other hand was antsy; his eyes frantic and his leg bouncing. You knew he was staring at your chest. You planned to use it to your advantage. Was it fair game? Yeah, yeah it was. It wasn’t your fault he was distracted.

“Hit me,” you egged.

“You got it,” he responded.

A five. Fuck.

Spencer hit himself and he drew a seven. Those are bad cards. He most likely went over and you might actually finally beat him.

“One more time, boy wonder,” you snapped. A six. A beautiful six of hearts.

“I stand,” he mutters, probably knowing he lost.

“Let’s see those cards, baby,” you teased.

“You first,” he told you, and placed your cards.

“Blackjack, baby!”

Spencer laid his cards revealing his seven and eight and underneath a nine, he busted; the cards of course. You won, you finally won. You jumped up in celebration, prancing in your undergarments around the room giggling and cheering.

“I did it! I fucking did it! I beat the boy genius, fair and fucking square! You lose Spencer, loser!” you shouted taunting him and he couldn’t help the smile painted in his blushing face; he almost forgot you were prancing around almost naked in the middle of his apartment.

“I- I was distracted,” he shuttered.

“Damn right you were,” you joked, squeezing your breasts to flaunt them in his face.

“It wasn’t fair game,” he bantered.

“It wasn’t fair game, my ass. I won and you lost, and you’re being a sore loser,” you mocked as you walked towards him like a panther, playfulness and seduction dripping from your tongue.

Spencer took the moment you walked near and grabbed your wrist yanking you to stumble into his lap. You were shocked, surprised, a little turned on. You held onto his shoulders, your breathing a little quicker than before. You tried to convince yourself it was from the celebratory dance and not the growing bulge from Spencer that poked you from beneath.

“I told you, I was distracted,” he told you, his hands finding a place at their hips. Fingers caressing delicately the hem of your underwear.

“Blah, blah,” you whispered.

“Don’t give me that.”

“Now, Spence, I believe there is something you have to do, is there not?” you whispered.

“What’s that?” he bantered.

“You lost.”

“Right, unfairly I might add,” he joked.

“If all you’re gonna do is talk, then let me do the honors,” you told him.

“Be my guest.”

Your fingers pulled gently at his tie he wore, pulling over his head and tossing it to the side on the floor. You started unbuttoning his shirt, Spencer staring with heavy eyes at you as you did so.

“I thought we were only taking off one item. We should play another round then if you want my shirt off,” he teased you, bringing his hands to gently hold your wrists.

“Like that’s gonna happen,” you rolled your eyes playfully.

Spencer relaxed against the back of the couch as you unbutton his shirt all the way. You brought your lips down to kiss softly at his collarbones and his shoulder. Moving along his chest to kiss the other side. His hands moved slowly against your hips, fingers sliding between the fabric of your underwear and your skin. Your skin erupted in chills, a tingle running through your spine making your ears feel hot. You dragged your nose along his strong jawline before nipping your teeth playfully against his cheek.

He brought his hands up, fingertips tracing your spine until he reached your bra. He skillfully unhooked it leaving you a bit breathless for just a second but a second too long. You could feel it, without even needing to look at him, to know he had such a teasing smile on his gorgeous face. You wanted nothing more than to kiss it off him.

You shrugged your bra off, tossing behind him giving him a playful wink which made him chuckle. You brought his hands to your breasts as you pulled his head towards you by the back of his neck to kiss him feverishly. Something you both had wanted to do for quite some time now. You wiggled your hips a bit, feeling the prodding against your center, which made Spencer groan lowly in the kiss; his hands squeezing your breasts hard in discomfort.

“Fuck, you’re gonna drive me insane,” he told you.

“Let me say hi to your little friend, Spence. Or do you want to play for that too?” you taunted him.

“God, no. I couldn’t wait a whole other hour for you to beat me again,” he bantered making you scoff and roll your eyes; his hands shot straight to his zipper to pull his pants down just enough for the both of you.

You were practically itching to get your panties off. Standing up suddenly, both you and Spencer reached instinctively to pull them off you, his lips attaching themselves to your soft belly and hips. He freed himself from the constricting fabric of his pants and pulled you down, or rather yanked you to him. You couldn’t help the bubbly laugh that came from you making Spencer smile blissfully.

You bite your lip as you reach between your bodies, lining Spencer up against you perfectly. The warmth radiating from you was driving him crazy. It took everything in him to not suddenly take control and rut his hips against you. You sank slowly down on his length, not so little, you thought yourself.

“Oh jeez, I feel like I could come already,” you gasped, the pressure building in the pit of your stomach felt already overwhelming. Maybe it was the fact you hadn’t had sex in years. You felt starved of this kind of touch, this kind of intimacy. The kind of feeling of Spencer’s cold fingertips touching and gliding across your skin like you were glass. Yeah, that was the feeling you didn’t know you needed, you didn’t realize you craved so much until this very moment.

“I’m a bit embarrassed to admit the same,” he chuckled breathlessly, “If you don’t start moving, I’m not gonna be able to hold myself back any longer.”

You took this as the green light to start rocking your hips back and forth. One hand resting against his cheek and the other stabilizing yourself against the frame of the couch. Spencer’s hands rocked with you, his way of helping and understanding the rhythm you were going. He started, with gaining confidence, to buck his hips into you and that’s when the pleasure began to build. You panted heavily above him, moans every now and then escaping your mouth to echo against the walls of Spencer’s small apartment.

“Shit. You feel so good,” he breathed out, “I thought I’d last longer.”

“Please, please don’t come yet,” you begged; bringing your forehead to his. You could see his skin becoming shiny with sweat, his cheeks flush with redness. Spencer, determined to make you come before him, or at the very least with him, reached between your thighs rubbing fast and swift circles against your clit. Your hips jerked with pleasure and Spencer’s name dripped from your lips like honey.

“Oh, that’s it,” Spencer whispered. His free hand came up and pulled you in a passionate and sloppy kiss. His tongue entwined with your and you moaned wildly as did he. His brain was fuzzy, not that your’s wasn’t also, with the sounds of sex, the rhythm of your hips, the warmth of your slick soaking his fingers.

“I’m close, fuck I’m so close, Spence,” you whined.

“Let go, sweetheart.”

“Ngh!” you moaned loudly. You dipped your head forward resting your forehead in the crook of his neck. Your bodies were so close, your bare chests pressed against each other. You both could feel the other’s breath and slowly you began to match each other’s erratic rhythm the closer you got to your climaxes. You messily pressed your lips against Spencer’s one last time before the wave of electrifying pleasure overcame you.

When you came down from your high, all you could feel and hear in that moment was Spencer. His soft pants brushing your ear, his arms cradling you close, his subtle leg shaking from what you assume was him also coming with you.

“That was really good,” you giggled.

“It really was,” he agreed.

“I’m gonna tell everyone about this,” you whispered wickedly.

“What?” Spencer questioned fearfully.

“I beat you in Blackjack,” you reminded him, making him laugh loudly.

“Give it a rest you would?” he sighed.

“No way. I’m gonna tell everyone. And everyone’s gonna tease you because I beat you fair and square. Unless, you wanna admit that my boobs were distracting you from your card counting tricks,” you teased.

“Alright, you won fair and square,” he smiled blissfully at you, his eyes soft and gentle in the warm light.

You giggled sweetly bringing him in a tender kiss, definitely not for the last time that night. Your bodies were entwined for the rest of the night until the tepid sunrays peaked meekly through the curtains of Spencer’s bedroom window. The two of you sharing giggles between the sheets with his arms embracing you the way they had been all night. Needless to say, blackjack continues to be your favorite poker game. Especially now more than ever.

#criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #mgg fluff #mgg x reader #mgg fanfiction #mgg smut #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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butchrgoth · 12 days ago

Text

Can you stop...?

Spencer Reid x Female!Reader,,

summary: Spencer's been stuck doing Derek and Emily's paperwork since he lost a bet and has been staying late everyday. One day you decided to ditch your plans with Emily, JJ and Garcia to bother him and keep him company.

(A/N: im so sorry ive been dead. I am going to post more once im fully done exams...)

Spencer gave a pout as Derek gave him a cocky grin plopping a few files of paperwork onto his desk, Emily snickering and doing the same. Derek grins and grabs his jacket, shrugging it on as he looked back at Spencer, "Have fun pretty boy."

Spencer gives a small glare before opening the first file. JJ, Emily and Garcia were getting ready to leave all chatting about some new bar. Then you joined in, immediately being invited along. "Oh my goshness yes! Are we actually about to have a girls night!" Penelope squealed making a few late night workers look up as they either packed up or were getting through the last of their work... Emily snorts and gives Penelope's arm a squeeze, "Quiet down and yes..." JJ laughed grabbing her coat.

But all you could do was notice how frustrated Spencer looked doing those extra files of work. You sighed and gave the girls a look, "Actually I just remembered I gotta talk to Hotch about my case reports. Maybe i'll meet up with you guys later?" Whatever to make the lie believable. Emily sighed, Penelope giving a louder groan, "Fine! But don't take too long..." Penelope gave you a quick cheek kiss and the three girls made their way to the elevators. Once out of sight you walked over to Spencers desk, sliding into a rolling chair and sliding up to his desk. Spencer just looked at you giving an unamused look. "Not now-" Spencer started before being cut off by you taking one of his sticky notes, doodling on it. It wasn't very good...

You lifted the sticky note, "Good right." Spencer gave a blank stare but couldn't help but feel the corners of his mouth twitch up in a smile. "Not really..." Spencer mumbles. You just give an offended look and put the sticky note on his desk so he can look at it everyday. How great. Spencer sighs and gives her a look before continuing to fill out the files. You huff and start playing with his hair. You just wanted to annoy him.

Spencer glares "Can you stop??" He pulls his head away. You grin and grab his tie, pulling him closer, "nah.." Spencer huffs and tries to pull away while keeping his tie unwrinkled. "Stop it you're being annoying!" He whines. You roll your eyes and huff, "Make me. Make me-" Spencer huffed and cut her off with a sharp kiss before realizing what happened she kissed him back. Spencer pulled away and stuttered and tripped over his words, "I-.. Uhm.." You just swallow and feel the heat in your cheeks before you both hear someone clearing their throat.

The both of you look over to see Hotch and Rossi. Rossi grinning and Hotch giving a blank stare. Busted. "Finally you two stopped dancing around got tiring for me." Rossi speaks. Spencer flushes and opens his mouth to speak before Hotch cuts him off, "You two can come fill out the paperwork tomorrow."

Spencer and You looked at each other before you gave him a cheeky grin. God he hates you. But also really likes you.

heh.. hope you guys enjoyed that.. if not uhm oops..?

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid criminal minds #x reader #i love early seasons spencer #pls #emily and derek being teasingly mean to pretty boy

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valiwrites · 4 months ago

Text

reincarnation ✧.* formula 1

part1 part2 part4

: ̗̀➛ pairing: formula 1 x senna!reincarnation!male!oc (nico santos) : ̗̀➛ warnings: strong language, hate comments : ̗̀➛ author’s note: i wrote this before and got a lot of hate for it. if it’s not your thing, just scroll past—no need to spread negativity. i didn’t write this just to read mean comments.

: ̗̀➛ smau

masterlist

f1fannews ✔︎

liked by 735k users

f1fannews new videos of our favorite driver just dropped!! seriously, this guy is something else. the energy he brings and the pure heart he’s got—it's rare to see someone so genuine and down to earth. feel lucky to be able to watch him grow and do his thing. can't wait to see what’s next for him, he’s just getting started. truly blessed to be a fan of someone like him.

view all 98k comments

user1 this is co cute he's wearing the senna shirt!!

user2 he's literally impersonating him tf

user3 how is he impersonating him what?? y'all are bothered by anything

user2 it's the fact that he hates being compared to senna yet he always makes a way to wear his merch 🙄

user4 the second slide is so adorable tho look at his smile 🥺

user5 he's just so happy to be there

user6 is there any way to buy that shirt he's wearing??

f1fannews yes!! just go on google and search senna shop and you'll find it there

user7 is this gonna be in the new drive to survive season?

f1fannews hopefully we see more of nico next season!

user8 he looks like christian coulson on the second video

user9 wait i kinds see it

user10 it's the angle 😭😭

nicosantos ✔︎

liked by mclaren, lando, valeyellow46, f1, maxverstappen1, mickschumacher and 2.1m others

nicosantos this team makes me wanna commit a felony...i’m out here giving it my all, but the car’s acting like it’s on vacation. like, bro, are we racing or taking a nap? i swear, i’m ready to have a serious chat with it. still, out here doing laps like a champ, pretending i’m not crying inside. send help... and maybe some new tires.

view all 837k comments

lando 😭😭

nicosantos fuck you too

user1 lando NORIZZ help

user2 my boy finally lost it 😭

user3 the caption is sending me

user4 lando nowins

user5 is he starting his beef with mclaren or lando hello

user6 probably both lmao watch ww3 happen

sebastianvettel what got you so mad sweetie

nicosantos you're next vettel

user7 SWEETIE LMAOO IM DYING

user8 OOP, nico's officially in his "i'm done" phase

user9 someone get this man a snack, he’s mad hungry for drama

user10 nico really out here acting like he’s the main character, huh?

user11 yo be bothered by anyone else

user12 nico santos, the personification of “don’t come for me unless I send for you”… but we didn’t send for you.

nicosantos what does that even mean 😭

enews ✔︎

liked by 123k users

enews there are rumors floating around that our mclaren rising star, nico santos, is having some heated convos with mclaren principal andrea stella about possibly leaving the team. but are they true? is our fave driver sticking with mclaren or moving on to another team? which one though? stay tuned, things are getting spicy

view all 54k comments

user1 fr hoping nico stays with mclaren, he’s got mad potential, don’t mess this up!

user2 if he’s all talk and no results, maybe it’s time to go. mclaren doesn’t need the headache

user3 he's literally one of the best drivers out there

user2 i don't see a championship yet

user3 noo nicooo

user4 you'll survive

user5 he’s been putting in the work, mclaren’s the place for him to keep growing

user6 if he can't work with the team then he's not good for it (not hating just pointing out the facts)

user7 as much as i hate to agree with you i do. bc nico is so good at what he does and if he doesn't like it at mclaren he should leave

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pazzi5351 · 1 month ago

Text

PART 3

Just Friends

Highschool AU

Football P x cheerleader A

Bsf to Lovers

WC: 1.8k

AN: i was finishing writing as the fuckass knicks LOST. LIKE I HATE NY SPORTS (not the liberty) anyways knicks in 7 (they’re 3-1 in playoffs) (they’ve won 1 game) But bare with this and them in this rn. They’re teenagers that dk shit abt communication! Love ya! Happy reading! Leave live reacts i wanna know what yall think!😗

————————————————————————————

Monday morning sunlight streams through Azzi’s curtain as her phone balances on her vanity, FaceTime open. She’s brushing her hair while Caroline, on the other end of the call, curls her lashes. Ryan, their backspot and self-proclaimed stylist, lounges in bed shirtless under a fuzzy pink blanket, sipping iced coffee like it’s a mimosa.

“I still say we manifest a hotel with a hot tub for playoffs,” Ryan begins saying. “And if I don’t get to room with my besties, I’m leaving.”

Caroline snorts. “We already told coach we’re rooming together. Azzi, you’re fine bunking with us, right?”

Azzi, seated on the floor with her hair half up, bends down to grab her sneakers. “Yeah, of course—”

Ryan squints into the screen. “Uhm. Miss. Fudd. My favorite, most favorite main base…”

Azzi looks up. “What?”

Ryan leans in. “What’s that right there? You know. On your neck?”

Azzi freezes, casually brushing a hand over the spot by her jaw. “What? There’s nothing there. Ry, what are you even talking about?”

Ryan gasps dramatically. “Oh, so, we’re lying now?”

Before Caroline can chime in, Azzi’s screen flashes with an incoming FaceTime, from the one and only, Paige.

“Oop! Gotta go, see you guys later!” She hangs up before they can interrogate her further and answers the new call.

“Hey,” Paige says, her voice warm and casual. She’s already in her car, one hand lazily on the steering wheel (Azzi definitely didn’t take note of the veins that were lightly showing in her hand). “Come outside, I’m here.”

Azzi blinks. “I told you, you didn’t have to pick me up today.”

“Yeah, okay Az. You wanna go to Starbucks?”

Azzi’s smile falls into place. “I’ll come outside.”

She jogs out the front door, bag hanging over her shoulder. Paige rolls the window down as she pulls up.

“Oh look,” she says, eyes sparkling, “it’s my favorite vampire.”

Azzi rolls her eyes. “I thought we were going to Starbucks, not being annoying in my driveway.”

Paige just laughs, unlocking the door.

The car ride is calm, windows cracked slightly as morning air moves in. Azzi watches the road move past.

“How you feelin’ about playoffs?” she asks.

Paige nods, chewing her gum slowly. “I feel good. I’ve been watching a lot of film on them—how they go after receivers, how their D-line shifts a little pre-snap. I think I’ve got a decent read on it.”

Azzi hums, impressed, and nods along like it’s a language she doesn’t fully speak but wants to understand.

At Starbucks, they step up to the counter. Paige goes for her usual, but Azzi nudges her.

“You’re getting the strawberry acai lemonade refresher. Light ice. No berries.”

Paige frowns. “What—why? No berries?”

“It’s good for the soul,” Azzi says matter-of-factly.

She pulls out her phone to pay, but Paige hip-checks her out of the way, card already tapping the reader.

“No, Paige—stop. You pay all the time. It’s literally Starbucks, it’s like twelve dollars.”

Paige ignores her.

The barista, a girl with glossy lips and a little too much blush for 8 am, smiles brightly at Paige. “You look familiar—do you play football at Arlington?”

Paige, polite, smiles. “Yeah, wide receiver.”

“Oh, cool! You guys are really good this year.”

Azzi, standing beside her, eyes the girl. And with zero shame, she reaches over to move Paige’s hair off her shoulder, planting her elbow there. Paige doesn’t react—until the girl’s expression falls at the sight of the very visible hickies all over Paige’s neck.

The barista gives a tight smile. “Um… I’ll go grab your drinks.”

As she walks away, Paige turns slowly. “I didn’t take you for the possessive type.”

Azzi started walking off and looked over her shoulder. “Hm? What do you mean? I just wanted to put my arm on you.”

Paige grins. “Right.”

They return to the car, and as Paige starts driving toward school, she glances at Azzi with a half-laugh. “I thought it was kinda hot though.”

Azzi blushes, looking out the window. “You’re so annoying.”

At school, they split off toward their respective lockers. On her way, Paige runs into Nika, who clocks the drink in her hand and side-eyes her.

“Is that… a strawberry acai refresher?”

“Bro, Azzi made me get it,” Paige mutters. “It’s good though. So, like, shut up.”

Nika laughs. “Oh yeah? Speaking of Azzi—what did y’all do after you left Friday night, hmm?”

Paige rolls her eyes. “Drop it.”

But Nika keeps walking with her, “You know I’m gonna get it outta you eventually, right?”

Paige hums and keeps walking, listening to Nika yap, heading to class.

In second period, Azzi’s scribbling in her notebook while Mackenzie leans across the desk. Colleen’s doodling hearts on the corner of her page.

Azzi lifts her arms to put her hair up, and Mackenzie gasps and grabs her wrist.

“Girl. I would strongly advise keeping that hair down unless you’re ready for everyone in this room to know your business.”

Azzi pauses, then slowly lowers her arms and lets her hair fall. “Damn.”

Colleen leans in. “So, you wanna explain that, Az?”

Azzi sighs. “No actually. Next question. Shit—I have cheer later. Caroline and Ryan are gonna have my ass.”

She drops her head dramatically to the desk as her friends laugh around her.

That afternoon, Paige is stretching on the football field, lined up between Jalen and Jacob. They’re mid-conversation about the new 2K drop when Jalen leans forward and tilts his head.

“So… I’m assuming Friday night was fun.”

Paige raises an eyebrow. “Huh? I mean… yeah. The fair was cool. Nika’s after was fun.”

Jalen grins. “Nah. I mean with Azzi.”

Paige blinks, suddenly slightly defensive. “What about Azzi?”

Jacob smirks. “Bro, you might wanna invest in a scarf.”

Jalen gestures to the side of Paige’s neck. “Shawty lowkey a vampire though.”

Paige’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh my God.”

Jacob just laughs. “I know whatever’s on the other side gotta be worse.”

Paige turns red. “I’m gonna kill her.”

They laugh and start tossing around new nickname ideas for her.

At cheer practice, Azzi’s holding steady in the base position while their flyer, Maddie, preps to go up.

“Can you move your hair, Az? I need to see your grip.”

Azzi shakes her head, moving to sweep her hair over one shoulder.

Caroline and Ryan immediately freeze.

“Wait. Wait wait wait,” Ryan says. “I knew I wasn’t crazy this morning.”

Caroline gasps. “Azzi!”

Azzi winces. “Shut up. Oh my gosh.”

“You really let Paige get vampire privileges?” Ryan says, horrified and joking.

Caroline just grins. “Well, she was high as a kite Friday night, and her knight in shining armor was our star receiver sooo….”

Azzi buries her face in her hands.

Later, while rolling up mats, she slides over to them.

“Hypothetically,” she starts. “If you had a friend. And you saw someone flirt with them. Hypothetically after you hooked up. And hypothetically you got jealous… so you hypothetically revealed something…. on…. them to prove y’all hooked up yet the flirty person… hypothetically would that be… possessive?”

Both of them stopped in their tracks.

“WHAT?!” they said at the same time.

Caroline narrows her eyes. “Wait—so you and Paige hooked up? Like deadass?”

Ryan covers his mouth. “And then you got all possessive and shit cause someone was flirting with her?!”

Azzi fidgets. “Well yeah—but no. Because that’s a hypothetical situation.”

“Right,” Caroline says dryly. “Well, hypothetically… that means you like her.”

Ryan nods. “Hypothetically speaking, of course.”

Azzi’s face is tinged with red. “Okay, I’m done. This conversation’s over.”

But inside, she knows it’s not. Not even close.

Because as practice ends and her phone buzzes with a new message from Paige — a casual “you wanna come over later?” — all Azzi can think about is how bad she wants to say yes.

And how much more complicated that yes is getting.

The locker room is buzzing with laughter, the smell of sweat and cheap body spray hanging in the air. Paige sits on the edge of the bench, hoodie still zipped, earbuds in—but not playing anything. She just doesn’t want to talk. Or explain. Or have anyone else ask “who did it”.

Even though everyone already knows.

Jalen flops down next to her, draping a towel over her shoulders. “So. You and Azzi, huh?”

Paige doesn’t look up. “Nothing’s going on.”

Jalen laughs. “Mmhmm. Tell that to the matching ‘curling iron marks’ you both tried to hide today.”

Paige’s jaw clenches. “It was just a weekend. Don’t make it a thing.”

Jalen leans back, arms crossed, something softer flashing behind his eyes. “I’m not trying to start anything. But you can’t act like that didn’t mean something and then pretend you’re fine. You’ve been off all practice. That’s not what we need right now P.”

Paige shoves her shoes into her bag a little too hard. “I said I’m good.”

Jalen watches her for a moment. “Aight.”

But the silence between them says otherwise.

At home, Paige lies on her bed, phone lighting up again and again.

💗: heyyy

Read 7:15 PM

💗: you good?

💗: i can come over still?

💗: if you want

💗: or not. idk. up to you.

💗: P???????

Read 7:36 PM

She stares at the messages but doesn’t respond. She wants to. God, she wants to. But something feels off now. Like a line was crossed, and it’s too late to step back, but too soon to keep going.

There’s a knock at the door.

Her dad peeks in. “Dinner’s ready. You okay?”

Paige nods without looking up. “Yeah.”

Meanwhile, Azzi is curled up on her bed, hoodie sleeves covering her hands, the silence in her room way too loud.

Colleen’s on FaceTime with her, lying upside down on her couch.

“You’re spiraling,” Colleen says bluntly, chewing on a french fry. “You’re doing that thing— where you overthink and overanalyze and think the worst even when nothing happened.”

Azzi exhales sharply. “She barely talked to me all day after school. She didn’t even answer my text after she asked me to hang with her. The fuck am I supposed to do with that?”

“Maybe she’s just tired. Or stressed.”

Azzi shakes her head. “No. It’s more than that. It’s like… we were up here,” she raises her arm above her head, “and now it’s like she dropped back to pretending we’re just friends. Like we didn’t even kiss. Like I didn’t literally leave like 5 fucking hickeys on her neck.”

Colleen stares. “Which, by the way, iconic. But yeah, that sucks.”

Azzi bites her lip. “I don’t want to be a mistake she pretends didn’t happen in the name of stress.”

There’s a pause.

“You’re not,” Colleen says gently.

Azzi’s voice cracks. “Then why does it feel like I am?”

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #paige x azzi #paige and azzi #pazzi #pazzi fic #pazzi fics #dallas wings #uconn wbb

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asumofwords · 1 year ago

Text

Unsought Betrothal - Part 2 - Part One Here

Dark!Aemond x Reader Velaryon x Cregan Stark

Summary: After attempting to humilate your betrothed by laying with Lord Cregan Stark the night before your wedding in the hopes that Aemond would call the wedding off, you find that not only is he determined to still wed you, but also to punish you for your indiscretions. Part One Here

Pairings: Dark!Aemond x Reader, Cregan x Reader, Cregan x Aemond

Warnings: Arranged marriage, threats of violence, acts of violence, forced voyeurism, dubcon, elements of noncon, naked reader, clothed men, fingering, finger fucking, pussy slapping, p in v sex, creampie, pussy eating, cum eating, degradation, praise, voyeur.

Word Count: 13k oops... sorry

Notes: Wow, whelp, its been a while since I have posted some of my writing, and even longer since I wrote the first part of this abomination, but when you get the urge, you just gotta scratch it. Thank you all for all your beautiful messages of kindness as usual, I'm sorry I've been gone a while. I have had a bit of a rough time this year but hopes for a brighter future! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this, and I hope I can write again very soon for you, hehe ;) Enjoy! <3

The wedding came just as it was planned. Just as it was arranged. Sleep had evaded you, anger and confusion clouding your mind with memories of the night before, ache still throbbing between your thighs. Your little attempt at stopping the engagement had no affect on your betrothed. No affect on the uncle you had grown up with. On the man you would now call husband.

You had thought that if you could humiliate Aemond in court by flirting with Lord Cregan Stark that he would call off the engagement. That the embarrassment would be too much for the pious prince. That the shame would turn him away from you, making him demand to his mother that they call off the engagement.

You had thought that maybe if you lost your maidenhead to the Northerner, Aemond would be so disgusted, so filled with rage, that he would call the engagement off, what with him being a dedicated follower of the Seven.

But you were wrong.

And so you spent an evening limping back into the Keep, escorted by none other than the One-eyed Prince himself and Ser Crispin. The front of your bodice had been ripped by Aemond's hands, but thankfully your hooded cloak covered up your sullied gown, the bottom of it dirtied with mud from where Aemond had bent you over in the alleyway and taken you roughly. With each step you took, you felt his seed slide down your legs, sticking to your inner thighs tackily.

When you got to your chambers, you used the small basin at your dressing table filled with water to wipe and wash away the blood and seed from your body, pain and a lingering dull ache causing you to jerk with each swipe.

You didn’t get much sleep that evening, staring blankly up at the ceiling. The urge to run was strong, to just leave out into the night through one of the secret passages and onto your dragons back, but the urge to stay was stronger. You hated him, truly hated him, but the way he had treated you that night, the fire in his eye, it lit something inside of you. It almost made you want him.

Need him.

Yet, there was another urge to stay, to make his life hell. To humiliate him at every turn, to ensure that he knew that forcing the engagement to continue would ensure him a life long marriage of discontent and disharmony.

You were not going to bend to his will. You were not going to bend to his needs, to bow at the husband, and say ‘yes’, and ‘thank you’, and ‘please’. You were going to be who you have always been.

A Valaryian.

Your eyes stayed open, watching as the ceiling eventually became light with the sun, indicating the break of dawn, and soon enough your maids were entering your chambers to get you ready to be wed. You were thankful that none of them asked questions about the dirtied ripped gown, or the bloodied rag in the basin, though you knew they were likely already aware.

The doors to your chambers opened as they pulled your hair back, pinning it atop your head in masses of braids with gold pins, tips glowing red with circular rubies. The colour of your mothers house dripping from you. Footsteps moved through your chambers, your head lifting to find Rhaenyra coming towards you, wearing a dress of black. Her silver hair half up, half down, small braids weaving around the back of her head beautifully.

A soft smile pulled on her lips as she came towards you, causing you to turn in your seat to fully face her. She looked sad and also lovingly devoted all at once. And whilst you knew it was not her greatest wish to marry you off to her half-brother, you also both knew that it was the only way to prevent bloodshed.

“My sweet.” Rhaenyra cooed, a slender hand coming to brush against your cheek dotingly, the scar on her arm from Alicent peeking beneath the cuff of her dress.

Blood already shed.

“Muña.” You smiled back, pulling her hand down into your lap.

Your mother leant forward and placed a kiss atop your head, “You look so beautiful, my love.”

“Thank you, mother.”

“Are you ready?” Her tone was gentle, as though she didn’t wish to startle you. As though she didn’t want to break the bubble that was the safety of your chambers.

The last time in your chambers as an unwed woman.

You gave her a reassuring smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes, and she could see it, “I must be.”

The small smile she had worn slid away, “This is not what I had intended for you. I did not wish to force you as I had been. I wish-“

“-I know.” You squeezed her hand, “I understand. It is my duty as your daughter to be wed to the Hightower’s to prevent bloodshed and war. To ensure your ascension to the throne. Let me perform my duty for you.”

“You know that we love you.” Rhaenyra squeezed your hand back, “Daemon has almost gone mad with rage. He does not wish to see you be wed to him. Luc feels that it is his fault.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from either of them.” You stood, still clutching her hand.

Her violet eyes roamed down your body.

The dress you wore was similar to the one she had worn for her wedding to Laenor, white with gold and licks of red in the lining. The dress sat below your collarbones and drooped against your shoulders, pearlescent beads sewn onto the short sleeves like dragon scales with a red silk peaking underneath.

“I wish this could be different for you.” She came to your side, placing a white cloak atop your shoulders, the Velaryon House sigil embroidered on the back, readying you to leave your chambers.

You looped your arm in hers, steeling a breath before you gave her a confident smile, “I don’t.”

Your heart rattled in your chest as you tried to stop the anxiety that churned nauseatingly in your stomach. Your hand was clenched tightly against Daemons arm, who slowly walked you down the many tables filled with people towards the man who would soon be your husband.

“Breathe.” Daemon cooed softly in your ear, his hand attempting to soothe you with soft brushes against yours.

Your eyes had not once left Aemond, who watched you with a dark glare.

The second son stood before the table, Viserys slumped behind him in his chair, the barest of smiles on his rotted face, half covered by a golden mask as you came towards them all. Your mother and Alicent sat on either sides of the King, followed by your brothers, your uncles, your cousins, and your aunt.

Aemond stood stiffly as he always did, the perfect posture with his shoulders back. He was higher on the stairs so that he looked down his nose at you, which wasn’t different to any other time he did. Each step towards him was nerve-wracking, the Lords and Ladies who had travelled far and wide watching you with keen eyes.

When finally you were standing before him, Daemon let go, coming to stand between you and Aemond momentarily, breaking your eye contact for the first time since you entered the room. Your uncle Daemon’s face was a kind one, and one you had grown to love as a step-father. He did not offer you a reassuring smile like your mother did, nor did he offer a consoling one. Instead, he leant forward to press a kiss to the side of your face before standing straight, towering over the both of you in both height and size before he moved back towards the table, sitting beside your mother.

And so the ceremony began.

In the light of the chambers Aemond looked sinister, shadows cast across his sharp face as he continued to look down his nose at you, chin still raised high. The Prince’s hair was styled in the way that it always was; straight and down his back, with two plain pieces pulled away from the sides of his face, tied neatly behind his head. He wore all black, the lining and undershirt the deepest of greens that was almost onyx. A symbol of his mother and her war that she had declared on a night such like this, many years ago.

The room felt hot, the back of your neck sweating as you stared at each other, all eyes pinned on you as the Septon’s voice boomed throughout the room.

“Father, Mother, Warrior,” The old mans voice was so loud in your ear that you winced, “Smith, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. Hear now their vows.”

You swallowed thickly, momentarily looking down at your hands before back into his sole lilac one, watching as his posture straightened further, surprised that he could even do so.

“I am yours, and you are mine.” Aemond’s voice dipped lower, “Whatever may come.”

Your throat felt dry, but your gut was filled with anticipation. You were frightened, but there was something else simmering beneath it all. A need for the danger he brought, a feeling of protection from him. Not from him and his anger, but from others.

A possessive desire.

The Septon looked at you impatiently to say your vows, and a small wave of quiet whispers spread across the room as you stood silently. The Prince shifted on his feet, muscles in his jaw clenching.

“I am yours,” You breathed softly, hands gripping each other tightly in front of your dress, “And you’re mine. Whatever may come.”

The purple of Aemond’s eye was half hidden by his lid, his gaze having softened at your short vow. You watched as the corner of his sharp lips twitched upwards lightly into a small smirk.

The Septon continued, “Here in the presence of Gods and Men, I proclaim Aemond of House Targaryen and Y/n of House Velaryon to be man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.”

Man and Wife.

Wed to Aemond Targaryen.

Your husband.

Now and forever.

An eruption of congratulatory joy spread throughout the room, the noise almost deafening as everyone celebrated what could be your demise. And though the noise around you was distracting, you could not look away from him, even as he shifted closer.

Aemond’s hand lifted and you flinched, the only people having noticed was your family seated behind you. His hand continued despite your shock to cup the side of your face and jaw, and as quickly as it happened, it ended. Aemond’s face grew closer as his eye slid shut, pressing his lips tenderly to yours in a brief moment before he pulled away, hand dropping back down to his side. The hand that had cupped your face grasped your hand for all to see, before he led you around to your seat at the table.

The night of celebrations became a blur, too in shock to really enjoy yourself, but wine still flowing heavily. Most of your evening you spent ignoring your new husband, opting to speak mostly to your mother and brothers, as well as Daemon and his daughters, who threw you pitying smiles, yet words of encouragement.

Aemond sat by your side, though he made no effort to join your conversations or create ones of his own. He had always been the quiet of his siblings, always sticking to the shadows and tomes of the library, never quite fitting in.

Helaena leant forward towards you, Otto eyeing her warily whilst Alicent looked as though she was about to chastise her daughter. In your aunts hand was a beetle, all black, though when the light of the candles shone on his shell, it seemed to glow. Greens and blues, and purples and pinks, danced across the beetles wings as it crawled atop her hand.

Your aunt had always loved insects, and had always been a sweet and kind person. You loved Helaena, and if there was anything that could help you endure living in the Red Keep alone without your family, it would be her.

“He appears dark,” She breathed watching as it crawled through a gap in her fingers and back towards her palm, “But if you look closely, you’ll find that he’s not.”

You shuffled in your seat, your shoulder pressed to hers as you ducked your head to look closer at the beetle, “He’s quite beautiful.”

Healaena lifted her face towards you, as she smiled at you dreamily, “He is, if you let him.”

Frowning, you looked back to the beetle, “How do I let a beetle be a beetle?”

Helaena did not answer you, instead continuing to twist and turn her hand as the bug crawled around on it.

Aegon watched from above the rim of his cup, drunk with red rimmed eyes. His hair was oily and wavy, unbrushed atop his round face. You could not help but feel a shiver crawl over you as he smiled.

“Our sweet niece and brother are finally married.” Aegon purred, Helaena barely giving him a second glance as though over the years she had attuned herself into pretending that he did not exist.

“A joyous occasion, uncle.” You smiled falsely back, picking up your own goblet of wine, ready to go back to talking with Helaena. Or the beetle.

Anything to escape Aegon.

“Do you know what happens tonight? After the celebrations of course.” Your uncles voice creeped along the surface of the table like a snake, so that only you and his siblings could hear.

You swallowed thickly.

Of course you did.

You had done it last night.

Bar a bed. Or walls.

In fact, it wasn’t even in the Keep, and instead in a dirty alley in Flea Bottom, hidden amongst the shadows.

“I’m aware.” Your voice was clipped, which seemed to goad Aegon.

“And how does our sweet little niece know of such things?”

You swallowed thickly, head turning to look at Aemond, whose eye was trained on his brother.

“My Septa.” You tuned back to face him, “And your whoring.”

Aegon chuckled, filling up his goblet with wine once more, “I suppose then you know what to expect.”

“Yes.”

“Should you ever be in want of a demonstration-"

“-Leave her be.” Came Aemond’s voice, almost a growl. His hand was clutched tightly around his own goblet as he challenged his older brother to say something more.

Aegon laughed loudly, eyes on his brothers clenched hand before looking up to watch him, “I only jest, brother! It is a night of celebrations!” He thrust his goblet towards the One-Eyed Prince, “It’s not everyday that my little brother is married off to such a beautiful princess. The daughter of the Realm’s Delight, no less. Do you think-“

Helaena shifted, turning her body towards you, “It isn’t so bad.” She spoke emotionlessly into your ear to distract you from Aegon, “It only hurts the first few times.” Your aunt paused in thought, lavender eyes still on the beetle as it moved, before looking at you, “Or when he’s angry. Or drunk.” She added as an afterthought, “But mostly when he’s drunk.”

Sorrow coursed through you for your aunt, your gaze immediately staring into Aegon’s angrily. How could he do this to her? How could he treat her like one of his whores? If not because she is his wife, but because she is his sister. Aegon seemed to sink into his chair after Helaena’s comment, soft anger simmering off of him in small waves.

But Aegon has never truly known when to stop.

“I am sure my brother here will barely draw blood.”

“I am sure your interest in your brothers cock speaks loudly.”

Elbows sloppily placed on the table he leant towards you, “I tried to take him once you know, to a whorehouse.” His voice became more hushed, “He hated it. Made me think that maybe our dear Aemond was perhaps like your father, Laenor.”

Blinding rage shot through you, “Don’t speak about my father.” You hissed, “He was more man than you shall ever be.”

A cruel smirk pulled at Aegon’s lips, “I am sure he has had more men than I ever shall.”

Your hand shot forward to grasp your goblet, ready to hurl it across the table at him, peace be damned, but Aemond was quicker and snatched your wrist before the tips of your fingers could even reach the cup.

A quiet fell over your table as all watched the interaction, your wrist in Aemond’s hand, Aegon smirking cruelly at you, and your face hot with anger.

“I pity you.” You quietly seethed, “Always so desperate to get a reaction out of the people around you, because if you didn’t you would simply cease to exist. Though you are the first son of Viserys, a peasant bastard from Flea Bottom would garner more respect.”

Aegon’s gassed darkened, his mouth readying to fire back at you.

“Aemond.” Alicent called to her son, a questioning and yet chastising tone in her voice.

Aemond looked at his mother, and then back to you, checking to see if you were going to continue on with your thought. But you had grown tired of the grip he had on you, his large hand squeezing your bones painfully as they shifted beneath the skin.

“Don’t touch me.” You sneered at him, snatching your hand away as you stood, chair scraping loudly against the flagstones.

The throne room quietened, all stilling to watch as you stood at the table, seething down at your husband. The rest of your family all watched warily, except for the Rogue Prince who smirked broadly at you. Your chest heaved with anger as you looked down at Aemond, who stared up at you with similar rage.

King Viserys sensing the tension smiled, though it looked more like a grimace, “Our young lovers wish to dance!” A distraction on his end, and a clever one at that.

The room erupted into cheers and clapping, and the musicians in the corner began playing music loudly for all. Lords and Ladies stood from their seats and moved into the centre of the room to dance together.

Glaring down at your husband, your hands clenched into fists, waiting for him. Aemond slowly stood, towering over you, a large hand stretched out towards you, palm up.

“Wife.”

“Husband.” You growled, taking his hand roughly, digging your nails into his skin as you led him down the stairs towards the people.

The court parted to the sides like a wave, creating a path for you straight to the centre as you lead Aemond down to it, almost like a dog. Each man and woman watched with excitement, either for the celebrations or the rising tension between the two of you. You’d be a fool to think that the court wouldn’t love a quarrel to arise so that they may whisper about it in corridors later to come.

It could be a way to press the wound so to speak with Aemond later.

You stopped in the centre, finally letting go of your husband as you spun to face him.

He stood as he always did, stiff, emotionless with a hint of arrogance, watching you with a cool glare. The court waited for you to begin, as the music continued to play, but even then you couldn’t push yourself to touch him. To feel his hands on you once more, alighting a fire within you that you did not know was possible, the embers still burning from the night before.

Would they be able to tell?

That he had already deflowered you in Flea Bottom?

In a dirty alley like one of Aegon’s whores?

In a way, you hoped they would. Let it bring him dishonour. Let it bring him humiliation from the court that his wife would take him in such a filthy, commoner way. You wished for his disdain, you wished for his anger, anything but the clear desire which seemed to move through him as he watched you from down his nose.

“Well?” You snipped, waiting for him to make the first move.

Aemond came forward swiftly, much like he had in the alley, and you had to bite your cheeks to stop the gasp that would have escaped your mouth.

It came to him so naturally to touch you, to hold you. One large hand immediately grasping yours by your side pulling it up, the other skating up your hip, over your collar bone, slowly down your shoulder, and down, down, down your arm.

Goosebumps rose on your skin, a shiver running down your back as his other hand connected with yours, and slowly but surely, the dance began. Even with the noise of the room, the music playing, the talking, and laughter, and joy from the guests, you could still hear the small little gasps and breaths you let free as you danced with Aemond.

It was likely one of the only times you hadn’t bickered after so long in his presence, let alone whilst touching him. The two of you stayed silent, moving this way and that, your gaze occasionally flitting to the table to your mother and Daemon, who watched with kind eyes.

“Don’t let Aegon goad you.” Aemond finally spoke.

His hand brushed against your shoulders, and round the back of your neck, a heat beginning to simmer in your gut from his touch. You turned to face him, watching as he observed you closely.

“He won’t stop if you show it bothers you.”

“He always bothers me.” You snipped, but this time with much less anger, “He is like a fly you wish to swat but can never reach."

Aemond’s lip twitched as he looked at you, turning around you slowly, “Mm.”

“Mm.” You mimicked, turning away from him.

“Behave yourself, wife.” Aemond purred, irritation flitting through you momentarily.

“What? Like how behaved yourself last night?”

“I could say much the same to you.”

“A shame then.” You sighed, moving to come chest to chest with him, your breath stilling in your lungs as you looked up at him. You would never get used to how tall he had grown over the years, “You bring much dishonour to your mother.”

“As do you. Whoring yourself to a Lord of the North-“

“-King of the North-“

“-In a dirty, whore riddled tavern.”

“A dirty, whore riddled tavern that you knew about.”

Aemond stilled, his head dipping towards you, “Did you think that I wouldn’t know of your movements in Kings Landing? Did you truly believe that I would be so foolish as to think that you would come to me willingly?”

You swallowed thickly.

“No.” He continued, sucking on his teeth, “You forget that I know you. You are much like your brothers. Getting into places where you don’t belong.”

“And what of yours?” You became defensive at the mention of your brothers, remembering how he and his would call you all bastards, “Loudly and brazenly whoring himself to any and all who would dare risk fucking him.”

“My brothers whoring does not concern me.”

“Then I suppose I am not a concern either.” You sniffed, “You needn’t worry, I am sure that he should find his way into our chambers one way or another.”

The hand on your arm tightened to the point of pain, your cheek twitching as you tried to hold in a wince, “I told you, he is not of concern.”

“I know Aegon. I have heard of what he does-“

“-And you know me. Know that he will not-“

“-He will not, what? Sully me? Taint our marital bed? It is already tainted. You made sure of that last night.” You stood closer to him, still as the others danced around you, your gaze peering up into his as your chest heaved, “But what if I want him to? What if I willingly invite him to take me? I’m sure you do not mind sharing after all, he is your brother.”

Aemond’s eye flashed with anger, before his head slowly ducked beside your ear, “If you think I am fool enough to stoop to your provocations then you must forget that we grew up together, side by side. I know your tricks.” The hand on your arm released its strong grip, coming to brush against the back of your neck, “I know that you despise him just as much as I. I know that you used to cry at the Godswood when he called you bastard.”

You bristled, purposely stepping back as you stared at him angrily. You hated that word. You hated what it meant for you and your siblings. You hated that he and his brother and his mother and the court whispered about all of your parentage. You hated that once, when you had been young, despite all of this, you had been friends.

Rage bubbled up inside of you, and before you could stop yourself you leant forward, hand coming to touch the side of Aemond’s face with his one seeing eye, the other covered by his leather patch.

You rubbed your thumb atop his cheek, “Imply that I am bastard once more, and I shall blind you with the purpose that Lucerys lacked.”

Aemond’s chest rose and fell jaggedly, inhaling breaths faster than yours, anger coursing through his veins. His sharp lips twitched as he watched you, “I wouldn’t dare. I know just how Strong you are, Princess.”

Your thumb moved fast, but Aemond was faster, anticipating your movements. His hand caught yours against his cheek, trapping your fingers between his hand so that they may not move further to pluck his remaining eye from its socket like intended.

“People are watching, ābrazȳrys.” Wife, He purred, though there was a lick of danger behind it.

A warning.

“Ivestragī zirȳ urnēbagon.” Let them watch, You sneered, “Nyke kessa laesdaor ao hae iā dīnilūks irudy.” I shall blind you as a wedding gift.

Aemond’s silver brow lifted, “Skoros iā sȳz irudy.” What a good gift, His eye turned dangerous, “Eman iā irudy syt ao, mēre nyke gōntan daor jaelagon naejot tepagon.” I have a gift for you, one I did not wish to give.

“Is it your death?” You countered cheerily, not wanting to show him that the way he spoke to you set your hair on end.

“No. I think it will be much better than that. We will both come to enjoy it.” The danger in his eye still flickered like a flame, “I was considering not giving it to you, but since you are behaving so wonderfully, I simply must insist.”

You turned away from him, moving to go back to your seat, “I want nothing from you.”

“And yet, you'll have everything.”

As the night grew long, your fears grew larger. And though he had taken you the night before in an alley, his subtle threat of what may come tonight lingered in the back of your mind. Each cup of wine was drained eagerly by your lips, hoping and wishing that you could somehow make yourself sick enough to not have the bedding ceremony.

But it came all the same, just as the wedding had.

Aegon was the one who initiated the beginning of the end.

A large clap came from in front of you, the short haired Prince leaning towards you on the tables with his hands clasped together, silver and gold rings adorning them. A sinister smile pulled at his lips as he beamed at you and his brother.

“The night is late!” He proclaimed loudly to the chambers, many Lords and Ladies turning their heads to watch, “I think we have held these two young lovers hostage for far too long!” Aegon smiled out to the room and then stood, lifting his goblet.

His shirt was untucked, his gait unsteady and he swayed on his feet as he continued, “My brother is too polite to remove himself from festivities such as these! But brother,” He thrusted his cup towards you, “I can see that you wish to take your new wife to bed! The love these two share is a tale for story books, though they are too polite to say a thing.” He chuckled, and laughter followed from the Lords behind you, “Worry not! We will continue the festivities without you!”

Cheers were heard from about the room, though none came from your own table. Aegon sipped his wine greedily, eyes watching you from above the rim of his cup. The Prince took the goblet from his lips and clicked his fingers impatiently beside him, pointing at an uncomfortable Criston Cole who came to his side like a well trained mutt.

“Ser Criston, take these newly weds to my brothers chambers. It seems it is time for the bedding ceremony.”

Ceremony.

Your blood ran cold.

Aemond stood abruptly beside you, head on with his brother.

“No need, Ser Cole.” His smooth voice icy, “I shall escort the Princess there myself.”

Aemond pushed his chair backwards as you continued to stare at Aegon, not quite ready to be alone with the Prince.

Your husband.

You blinked, turning your head towards your family, who all gave you pained smiles. But it was your duty. And you had given your mother your word. Slowly you stood, letting your eyes scan the table, softly landing on your grandsire before meeting with a pair of large brown eyes. Alicent Hightower watched on with a nervous energy, her hands shifting on her lap as you assumed she picked at the skin around her fingers. The look in her eyes almost held empathy.

Almost.

You bowed your head to the King and Queen, ignoring Aegon’s shit eating grin.

“Your Grace.”

Pushing your chair back you ignored the outstretched arm of Aemond and made your way down the stairs, Lords and Ladies watching as you made your slow exit from the room, taking false prideful steps through the court to delay the inevitable, giving all who watched smiles and nods of your head.

The shifting of armour moved loudly behind you, before soon enough, Ser Criston Cole was overtaking your step to lead you out of the chambers and soon to Aemond’s. The white cape attached to his shoulders billowed behind him as he speedily kept on.

The skin on your elbow burned, a hand gripping it tightly as you were momentarily slowed as Aemond came to your side. You refused to meet his eye, feeling his gaze upon the side of your face as you exited the chambers, the sounds of cheering and laughter loud behind you. The chamber doors shut with a thump, the sound dampened and muffled, footsteps echoing down the darkened corridors of the Red Keep.

“Does Ser Criston not wish to watch you bed me?” You sneered, eyes flickering to the lit lamps on the walls as Aemond led you down a wing of the Keep you had scarcely been down.

“I have instructed him to prepare my chambers for your arrival.” Aemond replied, his strides long and rigid as he almost hauled you with him.

“Do not pull me.” You yanked your arm back, halting your steps, “I am not your dog.”

Aemond stilled, looking down his nose at you as he towered above, “Dogs are better behaved.”

The Prince’s head snapped to the side, pain spreading through your palm as you sneered at him. The side of his cheek bloomed an angry red, yet Aemond did not react to your slap, nor did he hit you back, instead, a slow smirk pulled at his lips.

“I shall allow that, but only because I know you will regret it.”

Rising to your tiptoes you tried to make yourself come to eye level, “I regret nothing.”

“Mm.” He looked at you blankly, “I shall give you a choice.” Anger rose within your chest, heat creeping up your neck and into your cheeks, “Come with me to the Godswood.” Your brows furrowed, “Pray to the Gods for forgivingness for striking your husband, kneel and apologise. Swear obeisance to me-”

“-If you think-“

“-And I shall let you go to your own chambers alone. No need for a bedding ceremony after last night.”

You flushed, swallowing thickly, “I would never lower myself to apologising to a second son. And especially not to a Prince who is owed no inkling of respect.”

Aemond watched you for a beat, eye scanning your face as his held flat, “Then we continue to my chambers.” The hand that pulled you began again, and your feet struggled to keep up with his, bruises no doubt to be on the tender flesh of your arm in the morning.

Your heart raced in your chest as you felt yourself get closer to his chambers, his strides not once slowing down, though you tried to dig your heels into the flagstones to slow him.

“You care not to have a woman enthusiastic in your bed?” You tugged fruitlessly at your arm, “You wish to drag me to a night of suffering, like a savage. Like your brother, Aegon.” You sneered, fruitlessly tugging your arm to escape his grip.

“A savage would have had you atop the table before all to see when you first defied me. I gave you a chance to apologise, remember that you scorned it.”

“A chance? What chance was I given? A loveless marriage with a man who is not my equal? A burden I am forced to bear as I am forced to lay beneath him!”

Aemond’s steps halted once more, almost causing you to crash into him, his fingers tightening against your arm as he yanked you against his chest angrily, “You needlessly make this more difficult. I extended an offering to you of peace, and you burnt it.”

“Peace?” You screeched incredulously, “You have done naught but provoke me! Naught but push and prod and goad me into reaction so that you may justify your sick desires.”

“Provoke you? I seem to recall you sneaking into Flea Bottom to try and lay with a Lord to spite me.”

“I was trying to save us from a loveless and cruel union.”

“Us? Or yourself?”

You paused, mouth feeling dry. Anger and fear swirled within your gut viscously as you stared at him. The both of you panting heavily at one another. Aemond shifted, moving away from the wall beside you, revealing two large wooden doors.

You were there.

And you had not even realised.

“Wife.” Aemond purred sarcastically before pushing open the door, the smell of his room engulfing you.

It smelt of him, but far more intensely. Of leather and smoke, and spices which he dabbed his skin with, and still, behind all of this, the natural scent of him. The smell that was only his and his alone. A scent that had wrapped around you in that alleyway the night before.

The fireplace raged wildly, the room filled with dark mahogany furniture. There was a chaise, arm chairs, a table seated for six, a large bed on the other end, a reading desk with piles of books and scrolls, and candles sitting on every surface, lighting the room.

The second thing you observed as your eyes roamed the space was that you were not alone.

Your heart skipped in your chest.

There by the bed, was a man sat in a chair. Arms tied down to it as his feet were tightly bound to the legs. His long dark hair was knotted atop his head as he stared at you in shock, and beside him, Ser Criston Cole.

“Cregan?” You breathed in shock, running towards the Northerner as you dropped to your knees, hand reaching out to cup his face as he only looked at you with sorrow, “Are you hurt?”

“I did warn you,” Aemond growled from behind, “That you would regret it. I had a plan, you see. A moment of mercy to let you apologise at the Godswood, for you to go-“

“-Let him go!”

“-To your chambers untouched and unscathed. I had given you a choice, and this is the one you have chosen.”

You turned your head sharply to face Aemond, “What have you done?”

“This man was caught conspiring against the crown. He planned to take the Princess’ honour and humiliate her betrothed. A Prince.” His lilac eye held Cregan’s icy blue ones, “I have done my duty by capturing this traitor to the realm.”

Fear began to bubble inside of you, eyes looking back to Cregan. The left side of his face was bruised, small cuts littered across his cheek and brow. His soft lips were swollen and split, and dried blood had gathered in one corner.

“He is innocent.” Your knees ached as they dug into the stones below, your upper body turning to face Aemond again, “He knew naught of what I was doing. Punish me. Let him go.”

Aemond hummed and walked towards you, “Brave. Admirable if it wasn’t for nothing. No. I gave you a choice before, and you have made your choice. I gave you the option to apologise, to bend to me as your husband, to go to your chambers alone, but this is what you have chosen. This was your choice.”

“You gave me no choice!” You sneered, moving to stand, shielding Cregan’s body with your own, “All this talk of choices when all you have gave was an unknown ultimatum.”

“A choice nonetheless. Godswood or chambers. And so here we are. The consequences of your actions.” The Prince came closer, shadows cast across his face, “I told you that you would regret it.”

“You’re a savage! A foul beast.”

A smile pulled at Aemond’s lips, “Choose your words carefully, wife. I have no qualm with slitting his throat where he sits should you continue to defy me.”

Cregan pulled against his restraints, angrily sneering at Aemond, who simply hummed once more as he came to stand before you, looking down at you with false pity, “But, it is the night of our union, and the betrayal is still fresh and something I am willing to move past. I shall give you another choice. One that I feel may be far too lenient.”

Tears began to well in your eyes.

This was all your fault.

“The Lord of Winterfell shall sit where he is, and watch as I fuck you in ways that he never shall-“

“-You disgust me!”

“-Or he shall be tried and hung for treason.” Aemond came closer, his chest almost brushing against yours as he stared at you, “The choice is yours.”

You sneered upwards at your uncle, tears gathering in your eyes, “I would rather die than let you touch me again.”

“I recall you seeming to enjoy it, wetting my cock in that filthy alley as you begged for it.” He purred, hand lifting to brush hair from your face as he sighed, “I don’t mind what you choose, I could simply slit his throat myself right now? If you'd prefer it?”

A lone tear fell down your cheek as you turned and held Cregan’s gaze, his brows furrowing as he saw you come to your decision.

“Y/n, don’t-“ Cregan’s head was jerked back roughly, Ser Coles hand in his hair as he stuck a blade beneath his chin. The edge of the blade nicked the skin lightly, a small bead of blood travelling down his neck.

He would die.

He would die and it would be all your fault.

“Please, Aemond.” You begged, “Please do not do this. Let him go. Let him go and I swear to you I will obey your commands. Let him free and I am yours.”

The silver haired mans head tilted as he cooed you, “I am sorry, my love. But it is too late to beg for my mercy as I offered it to you before. What kind of man would I be if I excused such treason?”

You stepped forward swiftly, “A strong one. A merciful one. A man who can see the error of my way. That I am repentant.” You tried to cajole him, “I promise you I will be good. I will perform my duty and do what is expected of me.”

“You are sweet when you beg, but it is too late.”

“Uncle, please! I will do anything! Anything you ask of me. I swear to the Seven.”

Aemond smiled at you, “I know you will. And that is why you will do this.” Aemond swallowed, eye roaming down your wedding gown hungrily, defiantly.

Angrily.

“Strip.”

“Aemond-“

“-Strip, or he dies.”

Tears rolled down your cheek, your stomach rolling in disgust and fear.

“Please do not make me do this.” You sobbed, arms limp by your side as you looked down at the flagstones, feeling defeated.

Your husband tutted you, long slender finger brushing the tears that fell from your eyes away, “Do not waste your tears on him, my love. I can be gentle, and soon you will come to love my touch. This, I promise you.”

Pain bloomed in your jaw as you ground your teeth together, wary to not trigger Criston’s excitable hand. Short breaths puffed from your nose as fury and sorrow rose within you like a tide, little by little building in a wave. In your periphery, Aemond stepped back, a pale hand presented in front of you, palm outstretched for you to take.

Slowly, you let your gaze meet his, heated glare ignoring his offering as you refused to move. One last act of defiance. And one Aemond did not take lightly. Pain bloomed in your shoulder as you were roughly yanked forwards, and thrown backwards against the bed. Cregan shouted from behind you, the chair creaking beneath him.

“I said, strip.” Aemond growled.

Your eyes flicked to Cregan, and then up towards Ser Cole who watched with conflicted eyes.

“Please,” You begged softly again, keeping your eyes on Ser Criston, “Not him too. Not Ser Cole.”

A shifting of armour moved from behind Aemond, and a small ‘Your Grace’ fell from the knights lips.

Aemond spun, momentarily ignoring you as he turned to the knight standing awkwardly beside Cregan Stark, “You may leave, Ser Cole.” Aemond sniffed, “I am certain our guest will behave accordingly.”

Ser Criston’s eyes flickered to yours and then to the Prince as you tried to plead to him with yours for help.

To help the daughter of the woman he was once sworn to.

But no help came.

The Dornish knight bowed his head and left without another word.

“Let her go-“

“-Ah.” Aemond turned slowly towards Cregan, slow steps coming forward until he stood towering over the northerner, “Speak again and I’ll cut out your tongue.”

“Kepus,” You stood from the bed, grasping Aemond’s elbow tightly, hoping, praying that if you asked once more that he could see reason, “Please, let him go. I am yours. I will always be yours.”

Aemond stared at you, his pupil dilated as he stared at you intently.

“Strip.”

You fought the sob that threaten to rise up your throat and slowly lifted your chin.

You would not show weakness.

You would be strong.

With shaking hands, you let your fingers find the strings at the back of your dress, and slowly but surely you pulled the laces, keeping your eyes on your husband who watched with intent.

The gown sagged against your frame, the soft material falling down your chest slowly as you held it for one last moment, hoping that it was all a test, that he would change his mind and stop this madness.

But he didn’t.

Breath held in your chest, you let the gown fall to the floor below you, leaving you in your thin shift before the two men. Cregan looked away, his eyes focusing on the stones of the wall in shame, his hands tucked into tight fists against the arm of the arm of the chair, knuckles turning white.

A shiver ran down your back as the cool of the chambers stiffened your nipples into peaks, brushing against the white of your chemise. Aemond took a slow step towards you and then another, hand lifting to brush under your chin, an attempt to direct your gaze to him. You turned your head defiantly; looking to the wall where Cregan’s gaze laid.

“Y/n.” Aemond warned softly, thumb and forefinger pinching your chin as he turned your face towards him, “Look at me.”

Reluctantly you let yourself, and all you saw was the black of his pupil as he devoured you with his darkened gaze, “You’re so beautiful.” He cooed, “My wife.”

You swallowed thickly, his hand slowly skimming down your neck raising goosebumps along your skin as his fingers came to rest against the edge of your chemise. The tips of his nails scraped softly against your skin as it slipped beneath, and with an even slower movement, he tugged the chemise down off of your shoulders, the thin material floating down to the floor below leaving you completely exposed to the two men in his chambers.

“I will not harm you, though you would deserve it.” Aemond purred, his eye roaming your exposed body, your stomach and core clenching in anticipation, “I plan to make you beg for it.”

You opened your mouth to snap at him, but in the moment his long fingers came to brush under your breast, fingers teasing your nipple softly, your mouth clamped shut. You shyly glanced at Cregan, who’s eyes were scrunched tight. Aemond followed your line of sight, sighing.

“If you do not watch,” Aemond fully turned to Cregan, “I will take out your eyes.”

Even at the One-Eyed Princes threat, Cregan did not lift his gaze from the wall. The Lord of Winterfell willing to risk his sight so that you may keep your dignity.

“Fine.” Aemond grunted, pulling the blade from his belt, “Then I shall take hers.”

Fear shot through you as you stared at Aemond tearfully, watching in your periphery as Cregan’s head turned towards you and yelled.

“No!”

“Then,” Aemond sneered, “Watch.”

With eyes filled with shame, Cregan looked up at you. You didn’t know what to do, what could make it better. What could make any of this not what it was, and so you tried to offer him a reassuring nod. A small promise that it was okay to look when all you knew was how very much it wasn’t.

“Good.” The Prince hummed.

Aemond resumed his touch against you, hand coming to cup your breast fully as he rolled your nipple between his fingers. His touch sent sparks across your chest, shame washing over you in a wave.

Aemond ducked his head towards your face, beckoning you to kiss him. Would he be gentle as he was when you were married? Would it soften his actions? Or would it only make him worse?

Deciding that you didn’t want to push what little patience he had, your eyes slid shut, breath stuck deep in your chest as you felt the heat of his body come closer, the hand on your breast skating around your ribs to pull you closer to him.

When his lips pressed against yours it was light, gentle, almost cautious, your hands staying stiff by your sides. But that softness was short lived, and soon Aemond deepened the kiss, his teeth clashing against yours roughly.

You gasped softly as his other hand wound into your hair, tugging you closer as he nipped your bottom lip roughly. Your hands instinctually came up to his chest, gripping onto his jacket tightly to steady yourself. Anger poured into the kiss, and from behind you could feel the reluctant glare of Cregan.

Aemond pulled away, your eyes fluttering open to look at him. His lips were swollen, having turned a rosy pink as a blush settled across his cheeks. His chest heaved against yours, the stitching on his coat brushing roughly against your stiffened peaks.

“Have you ever bed a woman, Stark?” Aemond asked smugly, brushing the back of your neck as you turned you to face the Northerner again, your back to Aemond’s chest.

Even as exposed as you were, Cregan’s eyes did not shift to look at your body, keeping his simmering glare on Aemond.

Clicking his tongue, Aemond continued, “I’m sure you’ve fucked wildlings and mudmen alike, being a man of the North.” An arm wrapped around the front of your chest, breasts squeezed beneath the toned arm of your uncle behind you, “Tell me, are Winterfells brothels full of sheep like the Vale? Or maybe they’re full of pigs since you’re both fond of the mud.”

The chair beneath Cregan creaked, his jaw tensing in anger as Aemond taunted him. His pale eyes narrowed, lips tensed together in a sneer as his nostrils flared, breathing heavily whilst his hands gripped the arms of the chair tightly.

“No? Hm.” Aemond’s other hand slid across the skin of your back, travelling around to the front of your stomach slowly, brushing his fingertips along your hip bone as he continued, “You see, Stark, mudmen of the North have no place with the blood of Valyria. The Blood of the Dragon would never sully itself by laying with a Northerner. Nor would a Princess.” His hand continued to dip down, fingers brushing into the hair atop your mound.

Your back arched in instinct, trying to escape his hand, but it only pushed your backside into his clearly hardened member, “Targaryens don’t fuck like animals,” His voice dipped lower, “We bring pleasure to our lovers.”

Aemond’s hand continued down, parting your folds with a finger, seeking out the heat and slick that had gathered at your entrance. Once found, Aemond’s chest vibrated from behind with an appreciative hum, dragging a long slender finger from your entrance, back up to your pearl. You jerked in his hold as he pushed lightly against it, slowly and torturously swirling the digit against your bud, your arousal aiding his movements.

You watched Cregan curiously, the urge to hide yourself strong. His eyes never once left Aemond as he continued to bring you soft pleasure. The Stark’s chest rose and fell shallowly as he glared at the man behind you, who watched back with impatience.

“I won’t tell you again.” Aemond purred, fingers dipping down to your entrance as he suddenly shoved one long finger inside of you, causing you to gasp at the small sting, “Watch her, or I blind her.”

Cregan’s eyes shut as he took a shaky breath, Aemond’s finger crooking inside of you, pressing against your front wall roughly. A whine fell from your lips causing the icy blue eyes to catch yours finally. Cregan swallowed thickly as you stared at one another, your hands gripping the sleeve of Aemond’s arm across your chest, twisting the material between your fingers as you shifted your hips back, pressing against him as he sped up his fingers movement.

Cregan’s stare was hard, his eyes apologetic, watching you shift against your husband behind you as he began to fuck his finger inside of you, the sound of your slick filling the room. Your face flushed with embarrassment.

“She’s quite reactive,” Aemond purred, slipping his finger from within you to rub at your bud again, causing you to jerk in his hold, his arm tightening further around your chest, “Her body knows what it wants, even when she tries to fight it. Do you hear how she needs me?”

Aemond’s finger moved back to your entrance, but instead of one, he forced in a second, the ache from the night before settling within you again.

“Gods.” You whispered softly, pain and pleasure mixing into a confusing blend. Your head fell back against Aemond’s shoulder as he sped up his hand, fucking his fingers inside of you roughly. All you could do was lean your weight back against him, his arm the only thing that held you upright as his arousal pressed into the small of your back.

A familiar warmth began to build within you quickly, a coil rapidly tightening within your gut as Aemond switched from fucking you with his hand, to rubbing slick circles against your pearl. You scrunched your eyes shut, mouth going slack as your breath hitched. You were so close, so close, to reaching your peak, but each time you would almost get there, Aemond would slow his hand down.

You whined in his arms, shifting as you just wished it would end, wishing he would let you peak. It was torture. And with each time he did it, the frustration and desperation built, a light sheen of sweat covering your skin.

“What is the matter?” Aemond cooed into your ear, his fingers slowing to almost a halt, “Did you need something?”

You huffed a breath through your nose, eyes scrunching shut as you tried to thrust your hips into his hand, anything to alleviate the pressure that was strung to snap at any moment. You didn’t care anymore, you just needed it to end. Aemond’s fingers stopped, hovering over your pearl.

You didn’t even want to think of what you must have looked like, bare, hair likely a mess, and body aching for release.

All while Cregan Stark watched.

“If you want something,” Aemond’s lips came to the side of your ear, pressing a ghostly kiss to them, “You need only ask.”

You bit on your bottom lip, willing yourself to not give in, to not give him what he wanted, but all you could think about was reaching your peak. Logically, you told yourself it was for Cregan’s sake so that it could all end quickly, but in reality, it was so that the throbbing in your core would cease, and the sweet feeling of relief could wash over you like it had the night before.

“Come now, you’re not one to hold your tongue. Ask.”

You wet your lips timidly, keeping your eyes shut in shame, not wanting to see Cregan’s face as you begged for the man behind you to touch you again as he watched.

A sharp sting shot through your centre, your eyes springing open as you gasped, you gaze immediately meeting the cold icy glare of Cregan, who’s fists tightened around the arms of the chair.

“Speak.” Aemond commanded, voice sharper in your ear as he watched Cregan tensing to the chair he was tied to.

Your mouth felt dry, and you licked at your lips once more before you softly whispered, “Please.”

“Please what?”

Cregan’s gaze looked back to yours, his eyes softened.

“Please,” You begged softly, “Touch me.”

You heard Aemond hummed from behind you, his finger slowly pressing into your cunt as he gathered slick from your entrance to drag back up to your bud.

“Like this?” He purred, slowly making circles against you, the coil within tightening again.

All you could do was nod, but that was not the answer that Aemond demanded. His fingers left your pearl as he waited, and you huffed in frustration.

“Touch me. Please, Aemond.” You weakly begged, eyes darting to the floor in embarrassment, not wanting to see Cregan’s face.

His touched resumed once more, but the arm wrapped around your chest shifted, his hand coming to grasp your chin as he lifted your head to look squarely at Cregan, a soft blush spreading across his cheeks.

“All you needed to do was ask, sweet wife.” Aemond purred, the movement speeding up, bringing you closer and closer to your peak, “I want you to wet my hand, and watch him whilst you do it. If you do not,” His voice dipped low, fingers pressing almost painfully against you, “I will know.”

You swallowed dryly and nodded your head in his grasp, feeling your peak begin to barrel towards you. Cregan watched your face, his own a soft pink and ice blue eyes half lidded.

“Does this feel good? Am I making you nice and wet?” Aemond cooed, hand plucking pleasure from you in ways you didn’t know was possible.

You nodded weakly, “Yes.”

“You can do better than that. Tell him what it feels like.”

Your eyes widened, embarrassment flaring inside of you.

“Tell him or I’ll stop.”

“It-“ You paused, swallowing the last of your pride, “It feels good.”

“What feels good?”

“When you touch me.”

“How so?”

You exhaled shakily, shifting in his arm as his fingers softened their movements, “It feels good when you touch my cunt.”

“Sȳz riña.” Good girl, Aemond praised you, causing arousal to spark inside, “That wasn’t so hard, now was it? Does it feel good when I fuck you with my hand?”

“Yes, uncle.” You whined weakly.

“Tell Cregan that it feels good when I fuck you with my hand.”

Blinking at the man tied in the chair, you grit your teeth, “It feels good when he fucks me with his hand.”

Cregans nostrils flared as he shifted in his seat, and your head fell back against Aemond once more, “I’m close.” You panted.

You were so close, so, so close to just tipping over the edge, the smell of Aemond behind you suffocating you as heat began to rise through your body. The gaze of the man before you wavered, his eyes momentarily dipping to where Aemond’s hand was rubbing swift and slick circles. That was all it took for you to feel yourself fall undone.

You writhed against Aemond as your peak washed over you, the Northerner watching on as Aemond’s fingers became wet with your release, his gaze darting up to watch your face, jaw slack as he breathed shallowly.

“Shh, shh, shh. Good girl.” Aemond praised you, his hand finally stopping as he smoothed up and down your sides.

A warm glow settled over your body and your eyes slid shut, head lolling to Aemond’s chest behind you as you breathed deeply, the pulsing of your cunt halting any and all thoughts that you had.

But as quick as the calm had come, the quicker it left, your world tilting as you were spun and pushed back onto the bed. Your eyes shot open as you watched Aemond step towards you, Cregan observing with slight concern before you were yanked back down the bed towards the Prince by your ankles, legs splayed open.

On instinct they tried to close, too exposed to the room, but your husband wouldn’t allow it, standing between them as he held them open with his hand, his lone eye commanding you to stay still from above.

Would it be painful like the night before? Would he bring you pleasure as well? Or would it be something entirely different now that you lay down on a bed, the way that your Septa’s had told you it would happen, and certainly not inside a dirty alley in Flea Bottom?

But what your Septa’s had not informed you of was that your husband, who seemed to be more concerned with punishing you than bringing you any reward, began to kneel before the bed, his back to his prisoner.

“I need to taste how sweet you are, and then I shall fuck you.”

With a broad swipe of his tongue, Aemond parted your folds from your entrance to your bud, collecting your release on it as he went. His eye closed as he hummed, coming to lap at your folds once more, pleasure sparking up through you.

You gasped softly, the feeling foreign but not unwelcome. It was more intense than you had thought it could be, but perhaps you were over sensitive from the release you just had. You watched Aemond, his lilac eye opening to look up at you with a smirk.

He pulled away from your centre, lips wet with your slick, “You are as sweet as I thought you would be.”

Aemond stood, towering over you as he began to pull at his belt and breeches, wherein he began untying them, lace after lace ripped from its eyelet until they sagged. His shirt was pulled away, revealing the pale skin of his lower stomach, and the dusting of hair that trailed down from navel to pubis.

The Prince’s length strained against his breeches, the base of it just showing, a purple vein standing out against his starkly pale skin. You hadn’t gotten to see it properly the night before, and the sight of it made your core clench around nothing.

Before he pulled himself from the confines of his pants, Aemond grabbed you once more and shifted you to lay sideways atop his bed, the plush green sheets soft beneath your skin. Your eyes rose to the ceiling, looking at the soft canopy that lay atop before the screeching of a chair on stone caught your attention.

You snapped your head to the side, watching as Aemond effortlessly dragged Cregan by the chair closer to the bed, only an arms length away. He towered over the man from Winterfell who looked up at him with nothing but contempt.

“You’ll watch me fuck her,” Aemond began smugly, “And know that it could never be you. Know that it will never be you.” Cregan attempted to sit up higher in the seat, chest pulling at the ropes that held him back, “You’ll watch me bring peak after peak from her as she wets my cock and likes it, and you’ll remember that it was me doing it.”

“Aemond.” You tried to distract him, try to take the attention away from Cregan, who watched with burning eyes, “Please.”

The silver haired Prince turned his head towards you and smirked before looking back at Cregan, “You see? She already begs for more.” Aemond walked back towards you, only two short steps from the bed as his eye roamed your naked body, gaze settling into the crux of your thighs, “She only had me last night, and already she begs so nicely.”

With jerky movements, Aemond pulled his length from his breeches, the length and girth large and intimidating. The tip was a rosy pink, and long veins travelled up its length. A bead of arousal had begun to form on top, slowly leaking down the base as he knelt on the bed, pulling you down to meet his hips, and had you not already experienced it, you would have been filled with fear.

Aemond thrust into you quickly and sharply, pain filling you before a feeling of fullness, his tip pressing at the end of your walls. You hissed softly, hands having raised to grasp his arms, nails biting into his skin beneath his shirts.

Your husband leant down, lips brushing against your cheek as it moved to your ear, “Do you like when I spear you on my cock?” He purred, his breath tickling your neck.

With clenched teeth you nodded, willing your body to adjust to his size quickly.

“Use your words, you’re not a mute.”

“Yes.” You grit out, turning your head away from him as he loomed above you, arms on either side of your head as he lay between your parted thighs.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Aemond.”

“Close.

You swallowed, “Yes, Husband.”

“Good.” Aemond pulled out of you swiftly before he thrust back in, “Girl.”

You exhaled sharply, the angle so far different from the night before. He felt deeper, more intense, everywhere all at once.

It was overwhelming.

You scrunched your eyes shut as Aemond began to rut into you, your hands not once leaving his arms as you clutched onto him, shifting your hips to alleviate the way his tip pressed harshly against your cervix with each thrust.

His hips clapped against yours brutally, speeding up, the movement shifting you up the bed as you squeaked with each impact, a warmth beginning to pool in your gut once more. The hair at the base of his cock brushed against your pearl roughly as his pelvis slid against yours, the stimulation winding that all too familiar coil again.

A moan broke free from your lips as Aemond shook a hand free, hoisting up one of your legs atop his hip, shifting the angle entirely so that his cock brushed against the small spongey patch within you deliciously, pleasure sending sparks through your limbs. Your eyes were shut so tightly, you could see stars behind them, your bottom lip gnawed between teeth.

“Open your eyes.” Aemond breathed from above, his pace not once faltering.

Your head tipped to the side, away from where Cregan sat, eyes still scrunched shut as you whined beneath him.

“I said,” Aemond grunted, hand roughly coming to grasp your chin as he turned your head back towards Cregan, “Open.”His fingers squeezed painfully against your jaw, bruises likely to show in the morning, your eyes finally opening to find Cregan watching you already.

“Lord Stark knows how to follow orders. He’s not once taken his eyes off you.” Aemond purred, thrusting particularly sharply into you causing you to wince, “Do you think he wishes he were I?”

Your mouth felt dry again, and all you could do was watch as the blush on Cregan’s cheeks depend and his eyes momentarily flashed away form you before returning, remembering Aemond’s threat.

“I think he does, sweet wife. I think he wishes that he was in your tight, wet, cunt as I am now. Don’t you agree?”

Your breasts moved with each thrust, the sound of your slick sliding against his length loud as it was before as you huffed beneath your husband.

Aemond’s fingers tightened against your jaw, “I asked you a question.”

“Yes.”

Another squeeze.

“I do.” You breathed, your face suddenly feeling flushed.

The man on top of you pulled out suddenly, hands moving under your sides to flip you over onto your stomach.

“Do not-“ You began angrily.

“-Quiet.” Aemond snapped, grabbing your hips as he pulled you up onto your knees, your hands fisting the sheets as you looked ahead, uncertainty filling your features before you felt the head of Aemond cock slide through your folds, and push straight back inside.

“Fuck you.” You hissed as he began to fuck into you, “Gods.” The angle made you feel even fuller than before, but shallower too, his length constantly batting against your walls as his hips clapped against your ass.

You struggled to stay upright as he continued, his grip on your hips painful as he pulled you back onto him, the air being punched from your lungs each time, making you gasp out small little high pitched huffs. A hand in your hair wrenched your head back and then to the side, directing your face to meet the Stark’s who’s eyes were not on your own, but instead upon your body.

The heat of his gaze caused you to clamp down on Aemond’s length, the Lord’s roaming eyes watching as the Princes cock buried itself over and over inside of you, before slowly roaming back up your body, catching sight of your breasts below you as they moved, and then finally to your face.

Seeing that he was caught, Cregan flushed, eyes casting down briefly before looking back up at you. He shifted against the chair, hands still tightly clenched against the arm, chest heaving, his thick muscled thighs clenching against the seat, and to-

Oh.

Cregan shifted again, knowing where your gaze had fallen, his hips trying to shift back against the wooden chair, but there was nothing to hide the hardening length within his dark leathered breeches, which pressed painfully to the front of his pants.

Your core clenched again, and from behind you heard Aemond grunt.

You should have been upset, you should have been horrified, but all it did was set the heat that was already simmering in your gut ablaze, your nipples stiffening to peaks. Instinctually you arched your back, hoping to better the view, which got another grunt of appreciation from your husband, who’s pace was yet to falter, his stamina owed to years of hard work in the training yard with Ser Criston Cole.

Cregan’s lips parted as he watched you, the pink of his tongue coming out to wet his lips, and that was all it took for you to come undone. You cried out loudly, keeping your eyes on Cregan as Aemond fucked you through your release, triggering his own. He came with a growl, his hips slowing to a halt as you felt his seed pulse inside of you.

You collapsed against the bed, eyes half lidded as you watched Cregan shift again against his chair as Aemond slowly pulled out of you with a hiss. Warmth dripped from your folds and down your thighs as you felt the soft press of kiss against your shoulder blades.

Your uncle manoeuvred you on the bed again, your body pliant in his hands as he pulled you to the edge of the bed, legs spread wide for Cregan to see. The man’s pale eyes drifted down to between your thighs, watching hungrily as Aemond’s spend dripped out from within you.

“Tell me Cregan,” Aemond stood by the bed panting, tucking his length back into his breeches whilst he brushed a loose hair over your shoulder, “Did you enjoy watching me fuck my wife?”

The taunt earnt him a sneer.

“An honest question deserving of an honest answer. I thought Stark’s were known for the honesty and oaths?” Aemond pressed.

You breathed heavily as you watched Cregan’s gaze fell to you and only you in that moment as his answer was given.

“Yes.”

There was no denying the edge of arousal that roughened the edge of his answer.

“Hm.” A beat, “Would you like a taste?”

You brows furrowed as you looked up to your husband, who kept his eye on Cregan, his hand atop your shoulder brushing gently in thought.

A taste?

Did he mean to-

Your heart leapt into your throat, watching as Aemond took his blade from his side and moved towards the Stark man.

“Stop!” You yelled, watching as Cregan did not flinch when Aemond approached him.

“Worry not, I mean no harm. I am feeling generous.” Aemond purred, lifting the blade towards Cregan, “He watched dutifully as I put my seed inside of you.” His lilac eye dropped to Cregan’s hardened member, “And it seems that he has enjoyed it.” The Prince turned to face you, “I only wish to give him a parting gift. Something to remember… to agonise over for years to come.”

With a swift hand, Aemond sliced the ropes that bound Cregan's chest to the back of the chair, the Northerner staying still in his seat. The tall Targaryen bent down and cut the ropes on the mans legs loose, one by one.

“Now,” Aemond stood to his full height again, pointing his blade towards Cregan’s wrists, still tied to the chair, “Know that I have your men in a holding cell, and should you try anything, I shall have them all cut into seven pieces and strung about the gates.” Aemond paused, his gaze hardening, “And then I will stay true to my word.”

Cregan’s chest heaved with anger as he watched the prince, still not speaking a word.

“Do we understand each other?” Aemond questioned him, one silver brow lifted in challenge.

Cregan’s jaw clenched, a click audible to the chambers, “Yes.” He growled.

Aemond hummed in acknowledgement and released his hands, taking a step back as Cregan stood slowly, rubbing at his raw wrists as he looked at you on the bed. His head turned back towards your husband, uncertain of what he meant.

Impatiently Aemond thrust his arm towards you, blade still in hand, “Go to her. Taste how sweet she is, and know that you will never taste her again.”

Cregan shifted on his feet uncomfortably, looking to you for permission, for denial.

You didn’t know what to do, or what to say, so instead, you widened your legs in invitation, feeling desire begin to stir in you once more.

It was wrong.

But Gods did you need it.

“Clean her up.” Aemond commanded, and with slow and cautious steps, Cregan walked towards you.

The scent of Aemond was overpowered by that of Cregan’s. He smelt of cedar wood and fur, and the soft smell of musk beneath it all that just felt right for a Northerner.

It felt as if each stepped dragged on for days. You shifted against the bed nervously, casting your eyes to Aemond, who watched with a desire of his own.

Cregan dropped to his knees, his hands twitching by the side of your hips on the bed, cautious to even touch you, a stark difference to the way Aemond simply took. The dark haired man looked up at you breathlessly as you gave him a nod, shifting your hips towards him again, likings the way his eyes dropped down to your centre and then back up.

His large calloused hands grasped the soft meat of your hips, his eyes keeping on yours as he leant froward slowly, the heat of his breath fanning across your sensitive folds. Your mouth parted as you panted above him, watching as he wet his lips before finally pressing a chaste kiss to your core.

A soft moan escaped your mouth, head dropping back momentarily, giving him a strike of confidence before burying his tongue between your folds. You dropped back onto the bed, hands coming to grasp his hair as he licked and suckled at your folds, lapping at both your and Aemond’s release which only served to spark your desire further, that same familiar coil winding rapidly.

You tilted your head to watch him, his eyes still on you as you began to come undone on his tongue. Your name pulled you away from his stare, and you turned your head to face Aemond who watched hungrily from beside, his jaw tensed.

Already sensitive from such an intense night already, you writhed against Cregan’s mouth with a moan, his ministrations bringing you to your peak swiftly, your slick gushing into his mouth. You kept your eyes on Aemond this time, watching as he breathed deeply, his cock already beginning to swell in his breeches.

You panted and whined as the pleasure became too much, and only then did Cregan remove his face from between your thighs, roughly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

The chambers became still as you all breathed deeply, warmth spreading through your limbs as you couldn’t decide who to look at for longest.

Your husband.

Or the Northerner.

All you could think about was what you had done.

What had just transpired.

Your husband had trapped a Lord of the North in his chambers and forced him to watch you be fucked by him, and not only that, commanded that he cleaned you after. But what was the most confusing part of all, was that all in the chambers seemed to have liked it.

“Cole.” Aemond’s voice broke the stillness of the room, the door to the chambers opening swiftly.

Cregan stepped in front of you to shield your body from Ser Cole at the same time Aemond did, his back turning to his knight as he grabbed the sheet of the bed to drape over your exposed body.

The knight entered, flagged by two guards.

Confusion flashed across Cregan’s face as he stiffened, body gearing itself up for a fight.

“Relax, Stark.” Aemond mused, not even bothering to look at the man as he observed the guards, eye landing on Ser Cole again, “Take Cregan and his men to the travel roads. Ensure they have food for travel and water for the ride. They are to leave Kings Landing immediately to return back to Winterfell.”

Ser Cole nodded, as did the guards who swiftly approached Cregan, grabbing each arm as they began to remove him from Aemond’s chambers. The dark haired man looked back at you in confusion as you clutched the sheet your chest, unsure of what to do.

“Stark.” Aemond called out before the dark haired mans foot could cross the threshold. The Northerner stilled, eyes suspicious, “Expect a raven.”

Without another word, the guards pulled Cregan out of the room, Criston shutting the door behind them. The silence in the chambers was nerve-racking, and you turned to look at your uncle, who was already making his way to fill two goblets of wine.

Your mouth opened, a myriad of questions ready to pour out your mouth, but as usual, Aemond seemed to be one step ahead.

“You’re my wife.” He began, the sound of wine filling goblets. He turned with them in hand, coming to stand beside the bed as he handed you one.

You kept one hand with the sheets against your breast, the other shakily grasping the goblet, fatigue weighing your body down. Aemond spun to sit in the very chair that Cregan had been tied to, the ropes still on the floor in a heap.

“Our marriage is one of a prospect of peace, not love.” His words stung you in a way you didn’t realise they could, “Though, I do hope to change that one day. I wish to make you happy,” He paused, taking a sip from his goblet as he thought carefully, “And it would be remiss of me to say that what just happened didn’t spark something within me.”

You frowned, “I do not understand.”

“You looked like a Queen having him kneel before you.”

A beat.

“My Queen."

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to any tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! <3

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milessunflowers · 3 months ago

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ollie bearman x reader - soulmate au where you swap bodies with your soulmate for 24 hours after you meet for the first time???

-bear

yo wait i am loving this soulmate au holy shit

soulmate!oliver bearman x soulmate!male!reader

synopsis: after bumping into ollie in the paddock while looking for your friend, you wake up in his body and panic call your number

author's note: WE LOVE OLLIE we all shout in unison. like hes such a precious baby and i love him so so much (guys i freaked when he was first in the ferrari when carlos was out bc like i picked him in f2) this kinda got a bit of me projecting 😅 oops

you didn't do it on purpose. why would you? you were lost in the bustling crowd, trying to find your friend who thought it was a good idea to ditch you halfway through, just because her other friends had gotten better tickets. she texted you when it was too late.

ypu hardly had time to look up when you smacked into someone. you winced and immediately started apologizing. "i'm so sorry. shit, i wasn't looking. i'm so sorry," you tell the mystery person, rubbing your forehead. you barely look up when you realize just who you smacked into. your heart plummented from your chest.

"it's fine, really," ollie responds, giving you a kind smile. it makes you feel even worse. "accidents happen. i promise it's okay." it soothed you anxiety, briefly, but soothed it nonetheless.

you sigh, letting your shoulders drop. "i'm sorry. i just- my friend, see? her other friends showed up, and she kinda just... poof! gone!" you say, not even knowing why. there was something that just clicked when you saw ollie, and now you were word vomitting. lucky for you, ollie sat and listened. "sorry, i don't even know why i'm telling you all this."

ollie smiles and tilts his head at you. "no, no. i promise, you're okay," he reassures you, giving you the sweetest smile you had ever received in your life. "i'm sorry she disappeared."

you feel yourself smile, one of the first that day. "it's okay. probably for the best. i should, you know, probably head back-"

"stay! you could watch from the garage," ollie offers, giving you another kind smile. ollie didn't understand why he offered so quickly, but he's glad he did. you exchanged numbers after the race, smiles permanently etched on your faces, and giddiness tattooed in your hearts.

it stayed that way until the following morning. that giddiness was quickly replaced by pure panic. you had woken up in a place you didn't recognize and in a body, not your own. you get up to use the restroom and almost scream. in the mirror was not your own reflection but ollie's. a tingle wiggles its way up your spine at the realization that the oliver bearman was your soulmate.

you shake that away and grab your his phone, immediately dialing up your number. you were still panicked, your breathing still harsh. when ollie finally picks up, you rush everything out. every word was jumbled up.

"woah, woah, slow down y/n," he tells you, though it sounded weird hearing your own voice. "explain it again."

"ollie, have you looked at yourself yet?" you ask him, taking in large gulps of air as you try to get rid of that constricting feeling of panic. there's a beat between your question and ollie's response.

"no? why?" ollie responds, the sound of sheets rustling being heard over the speaker. you sigh and take in another shakey breath.

"just- just go look."

silence, utter silence filled the space of the call. nothing but the sound of breathing from either one of you. your heart picks up in speed while you wait for ollie's response.

"that makes sense why i'm not in my hotel," he finally speaks, running a hand over his your face. that's it? that's all he was going to say?

you coughed to clear your throat. "you know what this means, right?" you squeak, your nerves all jittery again. what if he hated the idea? what if he didn't want you to be his soulmate? what if-

"well, yeah," he replies with a soft laugh. "and, i mean, this is pretty cool! thank gosh you bumped into me yesterday!"

you were stunned, to say the least. why would someone like ollie be excited about someone like you? you wanted to bury that thought deep down in your soul to avoid negativity. your therapist said it would help your mentality improve.

"y/n? you still there?" ollie asks, snapping you clear from your thoughts.

"yeah, yeah. i am. meet me at the cafe down the street, will you? we need to figure something out," you half ask, half tell him. you had been picking at your fingers again, only this time it would affect ollie and not you; you immediately put a stop to it.

ollie nods dumbly against the phone, as if you could see. "yeah, i can do that. i'll see you in ten?" he suggests, making you involuntary grin. now it was your turn to nod dumbly. you whisper a small yeaha before the line is cut and you fall into a silence.

you get ready in a haste, trying to get used to the long limbs of your soulmate. his clothes were soft and smelt nice, a comforting scent that soothed almost any anxieties you had left. you ran your fingers through the soft brown locks on top of your head. you imagined how it would be to fall asleep playing with them. you smiled at ollie's reflection in the mirror. oh, his smile is just adorable.

you straighten yourself out one final time before grabbing his phone, the hotel key, and a jacket. it had gotten a bit chilly, and you always hated the cold. the walk to the cafe wasn't long, maybe ten minutes tops, so it wasn't bad at all. you barely even noriced yourself as you walked in, catching ollie at a table. it was weird looking at yourself from another's view, almost hard to look at. fortunately, ollie made it bearable.

the first few minutes after both settled with your drink and pastries were filled with a comfortable silence. there wasn't any pressure to talk, not right away at least. it lasted ten minutes, though you wish it lasted longer so you could sort through everything you were thinking.

"do you- are you upset?" you forced yourself to say, eyes darting around everywhere except at ollie across the table. it was from both nerves and because you had trouble looking at yourself.

ollie gives you a smile and takes one of your hands, much to your surprise. "why would i be?" he asks gently, running a thumb over your knuckles. this entire experience was, for both of you, an interesting one to comprehend. "i have the cutest guy ever as my soulmate. i could never be upset about that."

those few simple words made your heart leap into your throat and almost spit your tea put everywhere. it was unexpected but not unpleasant. a smile spread across both of your faces.

"you mean it?" you ask softly, finally making eye contact. it was hard to look at yourself, but knowing that was ollie in there made it ten times easier.

"i never lie," ollie tells you, kissing your cheek softly.

from that moment on, you knew one thing for sure: you had met your soulmate, and you had never been happier nor would you ever be happier.

TAGS! (if you want to be added, lmk!)

@op-81-lvr-reblogs, @koalapastries, @justaf1girl, @ghostking4m, @spoonfulofmilo, @seonghwaexile, @alex-wotton, @raizelchrysanderoctavius

#oli's 100 event #f1 x reader #f1 x male reader #formula 1 x male reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula one x male reader #oliver bearman x male reader #oliver bearman x reader

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spacecowboyy0 · 5 months ago

Text

chronicles of lamby

summary: little!reader is at a safe house with t141, brings their lamb stuffie but always loses it

notes: lamb stuffie again because it's so cute!, l!r calls simon papa and john da

~1k words

enter lamby:

You beg Price to let you go into the toy store next to the grocery shop. It’s a funny sight for the cashier when you, accompanied by Simon and Soap, enter the store that is primarily filled with baby toys. Price and Gaz decided to go to the car, but Gaz made Soap promise to get a picture of Ghost in the store with you.

You look around for the stuffie and Simon spots them in a back corner and guides you there. You hold his hand as you look around at the most adorable plushies you’ve ever seen. You have to hold back from squealing but you squeeze Simon's hand and bounce on your feet. Johnny stands on the other side of you, helping you find the cutest one.

“Alright dove, what’s it going to be?” Eventually you narrow it down to a blank and a blank. You make Simon hold them both so you can visualize it better. Johnny makes sure to secretly take a photo of the scene. It’s comical and adorable seeing you stare intently between the two options that look so small in Simon’s hands.

You walk out of the store with a big smile on your face and a soft lamb in your hands. Simon grabs your hand before you can run to the car, but you try your best to speed walk there. You pile into the backseat, squished between Kyle and Simon, and then make sure that John and Kyle have felt how soft your new lamb is before you head back. During the drive, you wiggle happily with your new friend in your lap.

lamby out of sight:

The team was staying in a safe house long enough that you could bring your lamb with you. Normally you don’t bring her on missions because you don't want to risk her getting damaged or lost. This mission is a little different, and so there was more leniency with what you could bring.

The team quickly learns that you have a habit of leaving her around the house.

Kyle walks into the bathroom and finds your pacifier in the sink. Soap had given you a little chain with a clip that could be attached to the pacifier and then onto your shirt, so you had gotten better at not losing it. Sometimes you still forget. He rinsed the pacifier and then dried it on his (clean) shirt. As he reaches to put it on the windowsill, he finds your lamb there. He laughs and places your pacifier beside your stuffie.

When he leaves the bathroom, he collects your comfort items and walks down the stairs. He heads to the dining room table and finds you looking over some papers.

“Baby, your pacifier and lamb were in the bathroom.”

“Ohhhh.” You mutter to yourself. “I guess I forgot them while I was brushing my teeth.”

“I thought Johnny got you that clip for a reason.” You look up at him and shrug.

“Yeah but I got distracted I guess, I noticed the window wasn’t closing properly so I tried to fix it, and then I remember I had to look at this stuff,” You gesture to the scattered papers in front of you. "So now I have to be big and do this.”

You tried to be helpful this morning, even though you feel smaller. John watches from the living room as you walk into the kitchen, set down your lamb and put away clean dishes and make Simon tea. You go to the stairs, planning to head to Simon’s bed so you can cuddle with him.

“Love,” John stops you. You perk up and look in the direction of his voice.

“Hm?”

“Your lamb.” He points to where it is on the counter and you turn your head to follow gaze.

“Oops, sorry lamby! Thanks Da.” You walk over to her and tuck her into your arms, careful to keep the mug steady and head back to the stairs. John hears the stairs creak under your steps, and smiles to himself.

You have once again forgotten your lamb somewhere, and you need her to watch your cartoons with Johnny. You’re all wrapped up in a blanket so you ask him to find her for you. He checks the main floor before going upstairs and looking in the bedrooms. He avoids Simon’s until he doesn't find your plush anywhere else. Simon’s room is right beside yours, but his door is closed so Johnny knocks on it. “Simon?” He waits for a response but doesn’t get one. He says a quick prayer before turning the door knob slowly and pushing the door open silently. On the bed, Johnny can see your plush on Simon’s pillow. Opening Simon’s closed door was one thing, but going into his room is another.

He slowly steps one foot into the room and the floorboards creak, making him jump. He turners around to make sure no one is around and finds Simon watching him from the hallway. He has his mask on, presumably coming from an errand run, and his arms are crossed.

“I- uh” Johnny stammers. He looks between Simon and the stuffie. He hears your footsteps as you skip up the stairs.

“Johnnyyyyy,” You whine. “What’s taking so long? Oh hey Papa.” You see both of them at the entrance of Simon’s room.

“Is she in there?” You walk past Simon and peer into the room, spotting her on his pillow. You push past Johnny and flop onto Simon’s bed. You giggle when you bounce and then crawl to retrieve your lost lamb. You hop off the bed and go back downstairs, not noticing Soap’s stunned expression or the crinkles around Simon’s eyes (he’s definitely smirking under his mask).

“Johnny come on! You couldn’t find my lamb and now you’re going to miss cartoons! I thought you're supposed to be smart!”

You and Simon had to leave early in the morning to collect some information, so you couldn’t say goodbye to John or the others. When John opens his door to go on his morning run, he's met with his favourite hat on the ground with your lamb sitting in it. There’s a folded note tucked in the hat.

The sight gets a smile out of him and he reaches to grab the small piece of paper.

have a good run <3 lamby will keep you company so you don’t miss me too much today!

-your dove

The note stays on the fridge until the team ends their time at the safe house, with a bunny magnet that you also made. John reads it everyday when he’s in the kitchen, and the others tease him whenever they catch his eyes in that direction. (Soap’s just jealous he doesn’t have a note of his own)

#sfw agere #little reader #little!reader #agere fic #cg!simon riley #cg!john price #simon riley #soap mactavish #john price #kyle garrick #call of duty #cod

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amyzworldds · 3 months ago

Note

heyy idk if requests are open but if they are can i request a wonwoo x reader where reader is super extroverted and hyper and kinda « adopts » wonwoo cause she wants them to be friends, but wonwoo being shy it takes him a while to be more open with her

i was just thinking about like maybe just some scenarios showing how the friendship (and eventual) relationship between them grows

btw can i be 🪼 anon? :)

Title: From Classmates to Soulmates

Masterlist | Part 2

Y/N, a vibrant solo artist, and Wonwoo, the reserved Seventeen member, share a bond that blossoms from high school friendship into something deeper. Her chaotic energy clashes with his quiet nature, but their connection—full of teasing, cat photos, and unspoken sparks—grows through years of laughter and challenges, proving opposites can be inseparable. Pairing: Wonwoo x reader Genre: Fluff

The fluorescent lights of Class 2-B flickered slightly, casting a soft glow over rows of desks. It was 2012, and Y/N, a new transfer student, plopped down into the only empty seat in the classroom—right next to Jeon Wonwoo, a lanky boy with glasses who was trying very hard to disappear into his textbook. She was a whirlwind of energy, her backpack covered in colorful pins, her hair tied with a bright scrunchie. He was... well, the human equivalent of a library’s quiet section.

“Hi! I’m Y/N! You’re my seatmate, right? Oh my gosh, this school is so big, I got lost twice already. Did you know the cafeteria has, like, three kinds of kimchi? Three!”

Wonwoo blinked, his pencil frozen mid-sentence. He glanced at her, then back at his book, hoping silence would make her stop. It didn’t.

“What’s your name? Wait, lemme guess... Minho? No, too common. Seokjin? Nah, you don’t look like a Seokjin. Oh! Are you a Wonwoo? That’s such a cool name!”

He sighed, adjusting his glasses. “...It’s Wonwoo.”

“I KNEW IT!” Y/N clapped, earning a few curious glances from classmates. “We’re gonna be best friends, Wonwoo. I can feel it. Do you like cats? Dogs? Both? I have a goldfish named Bubbles, but I’m thinking of getting a hamster. What do you think?”

“I think you should stop talking before we get in trouble,” he muttered, flipping a page he hadn’t read.

Too late. Their homeroom teacher, Mrs. Kim, spun around from the chalkboard. “Y/N! Wonwoo! If you two have so much to discuss, you can do it while cleaning the classroom after school!”

Wonwoo’s jaw tightened as he shot Y/N a side-eye. She just grinned sheepishly. “Oops. Sorry, Wonwoo. I’ll make it up to you! I’ll bring snacks!”

He didn’t respond, but his ears were slightly pink. Great. Day one, and I’m already in trouble because of her.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Over the next few weeks, Y/N became Wonwoo’s personal tornado. She talked during class, doodled on the edges of his notes (he pretended to hate the little hearts and stars), and dragged him into her chaotic orbit. He was quiet, reserved, the kid who’d rather read manga in the corner than join a group. She was the opposite—a social butterfly who befriended everyone from the janitor to the school’s stray cat (which she named Captain Whiskers).

One rainy afternoon, they were stuck cleaning the classroom again—third time that month, thanks to Y/N’s chatter. Wonwoo was wiping down desks while Y/N balanced a broom like a tightrope walker.

“Wonwoo, look! I’m a circus star!” She wobbled, nearly knocking over a chair.

He caught it just in time, glaring. “Can you focus for five seconds? I’d like to go home before we’re seniors.”

“Pfft, you’re no fun.” She hopped down, twirling the broom. “But you secretly love this. Admit it. I make your boring life exciting.”

“You make my life a headache,” he deadpanned, but there was a tiny quirk to his lips. She noticed and gasped dramatically.

“Was that a smile? Jeon Wonwoo, are you warming up to me?”

“No.” He turned away, scrubbing a desk harder than necessary.

But she was right. Slowly, Wonwoo got used to her. She’d ramble about her trainee life at Pledis, her dreams of being a solo artist, her obsession with bubble tea. He’d listen, nodding or throwing in a dry comment that made her laugh. They were opposites—her loud chaos to his quiet calm—but somehow, it worked.

--------------------------------------------------------------

One day, during lunch, Y/N spotted Captain Whiskers outside the school gate, looking scruffier than usual. Her eyes welled up instantly.

“Wonwoo, look at him! He’s so skinny! We have to take him home!” She clutched his sleeve, tears streaming.

He froze, her hands gripping his arm like a koala. “Y/N, you can’t just adopt every stray you see. Your dorm will turn into a petting zoo.”

“But he’s lonely!” she wailed, burying her face in his shoulder. “What if he gets cold tonight? What if he’s hungry? Wonwoo, I can’t leave him!”

He sighed, patting her head awkwardly. “Stop crying. You’re getting my shirt wet.”

“You’re so mean,” she mumbled, voice muffled. “But you’ll help me, right? Pleeeease?”

He glanced at the scrawny cat, then back at her tear-streaked face. “Fine. But we’re not keeping him. We’ll find him a shelter.”

“You’re the best!” She hugged him tightly, and he stood there like a statue, cheeks flushing. “I’m naming him Wonwoo Junior!”

“Absolutely not.”

They spent the afternoon sneaking Captain Whiskers into the trainee dorms, only for Y/N to cry again when they handed him to a shelter. Wonwoo bought her ice cream to stop the waterworks, muttering about how she was “impossible.” She just grinned, linking her arm with his.

“You love me, admit it.”

“Keep dreaming.”

--------------------------------------------------------------

By their final year of high school, they were inseparable. Y/N was still a chatterbox, but Wonwoo didn’t mind as much. He’d even started talking more—well, for him. When Seventeen debuted in 2015, Y/N was their biggest cheerleader, sneaking into their practice room with snacks and hyping them up. Wonwoo pretended to be annoyed, but he always saved her a spot next to him.

“You’re gonna be famous, Wonwoo! I’m telling everyone I’m your best friend,” she’d say, stealing his water bottle.

“You’re gonna get me in trouble,” he’d reply, but he’d let her keep the bottle.

When Y/N debuted as a solo artist in 2017, Wonwoo was there, quietly cheering from the crowd. She spotted him and nearly tripped on stage, waving like a maniac. Backstage, she tackled him in a hug.

“You came! I knew you would! Did you see my high note? Was I cool?”

“You were loud,” he teased, but his eyes were soft. “You did good.”

“That’s high praise from Jeon Wonwoo!” She poked his cheek. “One day, I’m gonna write a song about you.”

“Please don’t.”

She laughed, and he couldn’t help but smile. Somewhere along the way, her chaos had become his comfort. Her clinginess didn’t bother him anymore—it felt... nice. And when she grabbed his hand to drag him to her favorite café, he didn’t pull away.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Wonwoo, now a full-fledged idol, was busier than ever, his introverted self buried under choreography and mic checks. But no amount of chaos could keep Y/N away.

The practice room smelled of sweat and determination, mirrors fogging up as Seventeen ran through their routine for the tenth time. Y/N sat cross-legged on the floor, her backpack stuffed with snacks, watching with wide eyes. She clapped wildly after every run-through, even when the members stumbled.

“You guys are AMAZING!” she shouted, bouncing to her feet as the music stopped. “Hoshi, that spin? Iconic. Seungkwan, your vocals? I’m deceased. And Wonwoo, you’re... you’re just so cool!”

Wonwoo, catching his breath, shot her a look—half-exasperated, half-amused. “Can you lower your volume? I’m trying to focus.”

“Focus? You just nailed that part! Take the compliment, Jeon!” She skipped over, holding out a water bottle and a small towel like she was his personal assistant.

Mingyu, wiping his face, smirked. “Y/N, what’s this? Are you Wonwoo’s babysitter now?”

“Or his manager?” DK chimed in, grinning. “You’ve been here every day this week.”

Y/N stuck out her tongue. “I’m his cheerleader, thank you very much. Someone’s gotta keep his grumpy self hydrated.”

Wonwoo took the bottle, muttering, “I can get my own water.” But he didn’t push the towel away when she dabbed at his forehead, earning a chorus of “ooohs” from the members.

“Y/N, you’re spoiling him,” Vernon teased, leaning on Seungcheol’s shoulder. “He’s gonna expect this treatment forever.”

“Good!” she declared, plopping down beside Wonwoo. “He deserves it. Right, Wonwoo?”

He just sighed, sipping his water, but his ears were pink—a detail not lost on Jeonghan, who whispered to Joshua, “Ten bucks says they’re dating by next year.”

--------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N’s visits became a ritual. She’d barge into the practice room with convenience store kimbap or sneak in bubble tea, chattering nonstop while Wonwoo listened (or pretended not to). Sometimes, she’d join their breaks, challenging Hoshi to impromptu dance-offs or roping Seungkwan into karaoke battles. Her chaos lit up the room, and even Wonwoo’s quiet presence seemed brighter with her around.

One evening, after a particularly grueling practice, the members sprawled across the floor, exhausted. Y/N, somehow still buzzing with energy, started a game of truth or dare. When it was her turn, she picked dare and ended up doing a dramatic reenactment of Mingyu’s part in Adore U, complete with exaggerated winks.

The room erupted in laughter, but Wonwoo just watched, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Man, Y/N, you’re so loud,” Woozi said, rubbing his temples. “How does Wonwoo deal with you? You’re like... a human firecracker, and he’s—”

“A library book?” Seungcheol offered, smirking.

“Exactly!” Woozi laughed. “Seriously, Wonwoo, how’d you two even become friends?”

Wonwoo shrugged, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve. “She talked. I didn’t have a choice.”

“Rude!” Y/N gasped, tossing a crumpled napkin at him. “You love my talking. Remember when I saved you from that boring history project? I did all the presenting!”

“You got us a C because you kept going off-script,” he deadpanned.

“But it was fun, right?” She grinned, nudging his shoulder. He didn’t answer, but his smile said enough.

The members exchanged glances. Dino whispered to Vernon, “Are they... always like this?”

“Yup,” Vernon whispered back. “It’s like watching a rom-com, but they’re too dumb to notice.”

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Fast forward to 2017. Y/N’s solo debut was finally here, her single Starlight climbing the charts. The room was a flurry of stylists and nerves, but Y/N was her usual self—chatting with everyone, fixing her mic pack, and sneaking candy from the snack table. In the crowd, Wonwoo stood near the back, blending in with a cap pulled low. He didn’t cheer like her loudest fans, but his eyes never left the stage.

When she hit her final note, the venue roared. Y/N scanned the crowd, spotted him, and nearly fumbled her wave, grinning like an idiot. Backstage, she tackled him in a hug before he could escape.

“You came! I knew you would!” she squealed, arms locked around him. “Did you hear the crowd? Did I slay that high note?”

“You were loud,” he said, but his voice was soft, proud. “You did good.”

“Good? That’s it?” She poked his chest. “Jeon Wonwoo, I need excellent. Phenomenal. I’m a star now!”

“You’re a headache,” he corrected, but he didn’t pull away, letting her cling as long as she wanted.

Fans had noticed their closeness over the years—clips of Y/N at Seventeen’s events, Wonwoo at her debut, their playful banter in old vlogs. Online, they were “the ultimate besties,” with fans gushing over their friendship. But to those who knew them, it was... different.

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Later that night, at a small celebratory dinner with Seventeen and Y/N’s team, the teasing hit full force. Y/N was recounting her stage mishap—nearly tripping on a cable—when Mingyu leaned over.

“Wonwoo, be honest,” he said, smirking. “You were ready to run onstage and catch her, weren’t you?”

Wonwoo choked on his soda. “What? No.”

“Liar!” DK laughed. “You were staring at her like she hung the moon.”

Y/N, mid-bite of tteokbokki, waved it off. “He’s just supportive! That’s what friends do, right, Wonwoo?”

“Right,” he mumbled, eyes on his plate. But his hand brushed hers under the table when he passed her a napkin, and she didn’t move away. Neither did he.

Jeonghan, ever the instigator, leaned back. “Friends, huh? You two act like you’re married half the time. When’s the wedding?”

The table erupted, and Y/N laughed, loud and forced. “Pfft, me and Wonwoo? That’s like pairing a cat with a tornado!”

“You’re not wrong,” Wonwoo said dryly, earning a playful smack on his arm.

But later, when they walked to the convenience store for ice cream, the air felt heavier. Y/N rambled about her next single, but her usual energy was tinged with something else. Wonwoo was quieter than usual, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Hey, Wonwoo,” she said suddenly, stopping under a streetlight. “We’re good, right? Like... this—” She gestured between them. “It’s fine?”

He looked at her, heart thudding. The spark had been there for years—her hugs that lingered, his glances she pretended not to notice. But saying it out loud? That risked everything.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “We’re good.”

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Cool. Besties forever, then.”

“Forever,” he echoed, ignoring the ache in his chest. They bought their ice cream, and she linked arms with him on the walk back, chattering again. He listened, like always, because her chaos was still his favorite sound—even if he wasn’t ready to admit what else he felt.

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Years have passedpast and the spark between Y/N and Wonwoo wasn’t just a flicker anymore—it was a flame neither could ignore. For Y/N, it was the way her heart raced when he smiled at her dumb jokes, or how she caught herself staring when he adjusted his glasses during late-night chats. For Wonwoo, it was the warmth of her presence, the way her chaos made his world feel... complete. But admitting it? That was a wall neither dared climb.

Y/N, ever the overthinker, convinced herself it was just their history talking. We’ve been friends since high school. Of course I feel weirdly attached. It’s not... that. She’d lie awake, replaying moments—her tackling him in hugs, him brushing hair from her face during her debut jitters. It’s normal. Totally normal. But the more she thought about it, the more she panicked. What if she confessed and he didn’t feel the same? What if it broke them? Wonwoo was her safe space, the one person she could be her loud, clingy, unfiltered self with. Losing him wasn’t an option.

So, she did the only thing she could think of: she pulled back.

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It started small. No more facetime calls at 2 am to ramble about her day. No more spamming him with photos of stray cats or glittery coffee drinks she found on the street. No more bursting into Seventeen’s practice room with snacks and her trademark grin. When she did visit, she kept it brief, chatting with everyone instead of hovering around Wonwoo like before.

One afternoon, in the Pledis practice room, Y/N dropped by with a bag of tangerines—her excuse for showing up. Seventeen was mid-break, sprawled across the floor, sweaty and joking.

“Y/N! You’re alive!” Hoshi called, snatching a tangerine. “We thought you forgot us.”

“Pfft, never,” she laughed, tossing one to Seungkwan. “Just been busy. Soloist life, you know?”

Wonwoo, leaning against the mirror, watched her. She was her usual bright self, but something was off. She hadn’t looked at him once. No towel, no water bottle, no teasing jab about his dance moves. Just... distance.

“You staying for practice?” Mingyu asked, peeling his tangerine.

“Nah, gotta run,” she said, already inching toward the door. “Got a variety show taping soon. See you guys later!”

She waved, and just like that, she was gone. Wonwoo stared at the door, his chest tight. Seungcheol nudged Jeonghan, whispering, “She didn’t even talk to him.”“Yup,” Jeonghan murmured back. “Trouble in paradise.”

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Y/N’s new distraction was a variety show, Star Buddies, where idols teamed up for goofy challenges. She’d been cast alongside NCT’s Jaehyun, a guy with a warm smile and an easy laugh. He was kind, talented, and stupidly charming—someone anyone would click with. They bonded over shared snacks and her endless chatter, and soon, they were texting about dog memes and grabbing coffee between shoots.

“Jaehyun, look at this puppy!” Y/N squealed one day, showing him her phone during a break. “Should I adopt him?”

“You’d adopt the whole shelter if you could,” Jaehyun teased, chuckling. “But yeah, he’s cute. Go for it.”

She grinned, but her mind wandered to Wonwoo—how he’d roll his eyes and mutter about her turning her dorm into a zoo. She shook it off, typing a reply to Jaehyun instead. He’s nice. Fun. Safe. No butterflies, no panic. Just... normal.

But Wonwoo? He noticed everything. Her Instagram stories with Jaehyun—laughing over ice cream, posing with silly props on set. Her texts slowed to a trickle, her visits even rarer. He’d scroll through her posts, jaw tight, telling himself it was fine. She’s busy. She’s allowed to have other friends. But the sight of Jaehyun’s name in her stories twisted something in his gut.

One night, during a late dinner with the members, Mingyu brought it up. “Yo, Wonwoo, you seen Y/N’s stories? She’s hanging out with that NCT guy a lot. Jaehyun, right?”

Wonwoo’s chopsticks paused mid-air. “Yeah. So?”

“Just saying,” Mingyu grinned, oblivious to the tension. “They look cozy.”

“They’re on a show together,” Wonwoo said flatly, shoving rice in his mouth. “It’s work.”

DK raised an eyebrow. “Sure, but she’s not blowing up your phone anymore, is she? When’s the last time she crashed practice?”

Wonwoo didn’t answer, and the table went quiet. Woozi, ever blunt, sighed. “You two are idiots. Just talk to her before she actually moves on.”“There’s nothing to talk about,” Wonwoo muttered, but his voice lacked conviction.

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Y/N wasn’t blind. She felt the shift too—how Wonwoo’s replies were shorter, how he didn’t tease her back like he used to. It hurt, but she told herself it was for the best. If I keep my distance, these feelings will fade. We’ll go back to normal. But normal without Wonwoo felt like a song missing its melody.

One evening, after a Star Buddies taping, she and Jaehyun grabbed dinner at a quiet café. He was telling a story about Taeyong’s latest cooking disaster, and she laughed, but her heart wasn’t in it.

“You okay?” Jaehyun asked, tilting his head. “You seem... distracted.”

“Oh, nah, I’m good!” she lied, stirring her iced tea. “Just tired. Long day.”

He nodded, not pushing. “Well, if you ever need to talk, I’m here. You’re fun to hang out with, Y/N.”

“Thanks, Jaehyun. You’re pretty cool too.” She smiled, but her mind screamed Wonwoo. Always Wonwoo.

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Meanwhile, Seventeen’s dorm was abuzz with their latest comeback prep, but the members couldn’t ignore Wonwoo’s mood. He was quieter than usual—no small feat for him. During a break, Vernon caught him staring at his phone, Y/N’s latest story paused on a clip of her and Jaehyun high-fiving.

“Dude, just call her,” Vernon said, tossing him a water bottle. “You’re miserable.”

“I’m fine,” Wonwoo said, pocketing his phone.

“You’re not,” Seungkwan cut in, arms crossed. “And neither is she. We’ve known you guys forever. You think we can’t tell you’re both acting weird?”

Wonwoo sighed, running a hand through his hair. “What am I supposed to do? Stop her from living her life? She’s... she’s Y/N. She makes friends with everyone.”

“Yeah, but she’s not this with everyone,” Jeonghan said, leaning over. “She’s only ever been that clingy, that loud, that Y/N with you. And now she’s pulling away. You really think it’s because she’s over you?”

Wonwoo didn’t answer, but Jeonghan’s words stuck. He saw it—her forced smiles when she did visit, the way she avoided his gaze. He felt it—the emptiness where her chaos used to be. And Jaehyun? That was just salt in the wound.

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A week later, Y/N was at a pet store, snapping a pic of a fluffy puppy to send to Jaehyun. Her finger hovered over Wonwoo’s name instead. She missed him—his dry humor, his steady presence, the way he’d roll his eyes but still listen to her ramble. This is dumb. I’m making it worse. She pocketed her phone, heart heavy.

Across town, Wonwoo sat in the studio, lyrics open but untouched. His phone buzzed—a group chat notification, not her. He opened their old messages, scrolling through her silly cat pics and voice notes. She’s slipping away, and I’m just... letting her.

“Hyung,” Dino said, poking his head in. “You good? You’ve been staring at that screen for, like, an hour.”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo lied, closing his phone. “Just thinking.”

But he wasn’t just thinking. He was realizing that losing her noise—her light—hurt more than admitting how he felt ever could.

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an: Hi, 🪼anon ! Sorry this is late—I got busy with my integration paper, hehe. And sure, you can be 🪼 anon hehe! Also, I hope I got your request right, huhu. Btw, thank you for requesting! I think this is the very first request not connected to the 14th member HAHAHHA!

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