#so……please take good pens lol

[b4kuch1n]

Hello! As you guys have seen, I’ve been figuring out the dip pens recently for a project, and I’d love to draw a guy of your choice as practice!

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UPDATE 20/06/2023: 3/3 slots filled. Thank you so much for your support, and please stay tuned for the next round!

[the-girl-who-sold-the-wxrld]

" Did he think he could separate us ? Did he think I would not find out the truth and fight to see him again ? Did he think the multiverse was big enough to separate us ? Did he think I would not recognize the only person I have good memories with, did he think his obstacles could stop me ?

His soul and mine are half of the other, and no illusion could ever break that. I would find him in the farthest timeline and the darkest universe, I would recognize his eyes if they were closed and his voice if he wasn't speaking, for the link between us is stronger than reality itself. Kang tought we were dangerous together, but had no idea that it would be worse if he tried to tear us appart. "

"The possibility of her being somewhere I could not find, in a time where I could not go, seemed improbable and almost laughable to me, like a fairytale for children where everything that happens is as far removed from reality as possible. And the possibility of me not knowing that she was here and alive, of me believing forever in the lies I was told, even more. How could he think his plan was going to succeed ? How could he think that I would not search for her and standing at her side again ? Was he that ignorant, or were we too much of a unique case ?

There was no magic powerful enough, no universe dangerous enough, no god omniscient enough to keep me away from getting to her. I would have found her in Walhala if I have had too, hid in the middle of thousands of illusions looking like her or disguised as my worst enemy.

The only thing that could make me stop searching for her was herself, if she asked me to do so. But her voice when she pronounced my name told me that it wasn't the case ; and at that time I knew nothing but this : Kang was going to regret his plan."

[always-just-red]

hihihi! sylus girlie here. as a college student i often never take breaks whenever im working and often stay up late finishing up assignments. then i stress out but never tell anyone and suffer in silence:’) i was wondering if you could do something similar with sylus x mc where mc often forgets to take breaks at the hunters association and is always the first the volunteer for missions so she could improve.

but then it’s starting to take a toll on her and is so so stressed, but feels bad about venting to someone or saying no to new missions.

maybe one day she’s doing a simple task like cooking herself dinner (or something) but accidentally burns herself and she just ends up breaking down and decides to call sylus and he immediately goes to her. :’)

feel free to decline or change anything! i just like the thought of someone comforting u when ur overworked and stressed bc i wish someone would do that to me lol.

Fast-tracked this one for you, anon! I'm really sorry you're having a tough time right now, and I hope this brings you a bit of comfort- remember, Sylus would want you to take care of yourself! Good luck with all your studies, and feel free to send in another request if ever you need it! 🥰

Technical Difficulties

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: You're not very good at asking for help when you're struggling. Thankfully? You don't always need to.

Genre: fluff + comfort ft. a very domestic Sylus!

Warnings/Additional tags: stressed reader (has a lil bit of a breakdown!), some swearing, uses of 'kitten' and 'sweetie', Sylus is so soft here he should come with a health warning tbh

| Word count: 2.4k | Masterlist |

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

In the event of a wanderer incursion where evacuation of citizens is obstructed or otherwise not viable, association protocol 32.3-A dictates that you should first… That you should first… What?

Your pen is poised above the blank space where your answer should be. 32.3-A is a general procedure: something to do moving people to the nearest shelter. Or, wait— are you supposed to try to contact support, first?

You drop your pen with a huff and flop face-down onto the mock exam. It’s too much. Too much information, too much responsibility. Open textbooks are spread over your desk and around your head like an unholy halo— stacks of them, filled with codes and procedures. They’re supposed to be helpful, but they’re not; they’re drowning you.

Your phone pings and you glance up. Text from Tara:

Hi! Hate to be a bother, but did you finish glancing over that practice question for me? xx

Shit. You’d completely forgotten. You straighten, reaching for your laptop so you can load up your latest emails. You’ve got time to look over it; the exam isn’t for another two days. Breathe, ok? You have time.

Seven unread emails. What? You scan over them frantically. Two from the Captain: accepting additional mission requests you’d applied for. Were those both this week? One from Nero: you hadn’t sent in that finished report. Three from your colleagues, all scrambling for help with the exam. One from Tara:

Thanks for saying you’d look over this for me! You’re the best at this stuff!

Ok, so: Tara’s practice question. Nero’s report. Your own practice questions. Then… dinner? Maybe that should come first. You’d skipped lunch— had one slice of toast for breakfast. But you don’t wanna cook; cooking takes time, and you’ve got none. None.

Your phone is ringing, snapping you back to reality, and you peek over at it. Sylus?

“Hi,” you greet as you put him on speaker. On your laptop, you’re opening up Tara’s attachment.

“Are you free tomorrow?”

Always straight to the point. “Uh… yeah?” you frown as you read through your friend’s work. “Why? What d’you need?”

Sylus sighs through the phone. “That was a test, sweetie. You failed.”

“Yeah, well…” you murmur, highlighting a sentence with your cursor. “Add it to the list.”

The man doesn’t find that funny. The phone is quiet— too quiet. “Are you alright?” he asks, just as your gaze wanders to check if the call has disconnected.

“Mmhmm.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Sylus.”

You stare down at your phone. He’s waiting for more, but you won’t give it to him. You’re one word away from slipping, and you can’t let the dam crumble, especially in front of him. He’s smiling from the phone call background: a photo he insisted would ‘ruin’ his image when you took it last week.  

“I need to go, ok?” Your eyes are shining.

“Ok,” he says softly.

There’s a bleep as the call cuts out, and the photo is gone. Waiting beneath it is another text from Tara, and one from Xavier: Nero told me to txt U bout a report??

You swallow the ache in your throat and slump down on your desk again.

…

You wake up with a start, your head ringing. The tangerine sky outside your window’s turned dark— your laptop, too— and light spills from your desk lamp, yellow on white pages. There’s more, and you turn, tracing it back to where it leaks through the crack of your almost closed bedroom door.

You hadn’t left any lights on in your flat. You hadn’t switched on your lamp, either.

Tiredness is dulling your thoughts and your senses, but you know you feel uneasy. There’s something in the air: smoky, but not unpleasant. You can hear something as well. No— two things. A faint, almost imperceptible hiss, and a more obvious humming.

Hunter instincts kick in. You roll open a drawer of your desk, snatching up one of your standard-issue pistols and removing its safety with a click. You stalk up to the door, your trained footsteps near silent. You take a deep breath, clearing your head. One. Two.

Three! You shoulder the door open, leaping through with your gun trained forwards.

At the other end of your sights, Sylus turns, an eyebrow raised. Your kitchen stove seethes behind him, and he gives you a once over as he sluggishly raises both hands. “You flatter me, kitten,” he smirks in surrender, looking between your weapon and his: a spatula.

You lower your gun, your heart still racing. “I could have killed you, Sylus!”

“That’s the spirit.” His hands drop, too.

“How did you even get in here?”

He’s turned back to the stove, and he’s using the spatula to push something around a frying pan. “Hmm…” he muses, then blink— he’s gone. He’s at your fridge a second later, materialising from thin air. “I wonder,” he finishes as he reaches around for something.

Show off. “You know how I feel about you telepor…” No. “Phas…” No. “Magic…king…?” By now he’s watching you over his shoulder. “You know— that thing you do.” You’re twinkling your fingers. “What do you even call that?”

“Magicking, yeah.”

You huff in response and he laughs, walking back over to where he’s cooking two steaks and preparing a salad. You’re still coming to terms with the fact he’s even here, looking... quite frankly ridiculous, because he’s wearing your apron. It’s too small for him. Baby pink. Frilly, too.

“You know how I feel about you magicking into my home,” you mutter distractedly, because actually? He’s kinda pulling it off. His sleeves are rolled up past his elbows, tight on his arms. “Use the door like a regular person, you psychopath.”  

“Where’s the fun in that?” He sounds smug. Ugh, he must feel your eyes on him; he must know. You think he’s toying with the idea of calling you out, but he doesn’t, and when he does speak, the smugness is gone. “Mephisto saw you were sleeping. I didn’t wish to disturb you. You sounded… tired. On the phone.”

Guilt twinges in your chest as you draw up beside him. “Is that why you’re here? Playing housewife?” You pick at a frill on the apron.

“Poke fun all you want,” he sneers. “This shirt costs more than your entire wardrobe.”

“Snob.”

“Ha.” You have to retract your hand as he threatens it with the spatula. “Watch yourself, sweetie. I’ll remember that the next time you ask to ‘borrow’ my card.”

You laugh gently. Now that’s a threat. You’re about to tell him so when you hear a ping from the other room, and your heart sinks. Just a single sound, and you’re back to where you were an hour ago, at your desk with the weight of the world on your shoulders.

Sylus hums in acknowledgment as you excuse yourself and hurry back to your workspace, snatching up your phone. You missed three calls while you sleeping: all from Xavier. He’s been texting you, too.

Nero’s yelling at me

Wants to talk to U

Can U pick up? Pls?

It’s one report, for gods’ sake. You feel your chest tightening again. You just needed to proofread it, but it’s probably fine, right? You wake your laptop out of standby; you’ll just send it as it is. “I’ll just be a minute, Sy,” you call out. “Need to finish one thing.”

He mumbles something in response, and you imagine it’s for the best you can’t hear it. Your keyboard clacks as you tap out a quick email to Nero, then you surf your files for the report he so desperately wanted. It should be… here. You attach it. Hit send.

Nothing happens.

Huh. You hit send again. Then again— still nothing. You groan, trying to back out of the email. None of your keys are working. Your cursor is stuck. “Oh, come on,” you release on an impatient breath. Switch it off, switch it on again? You hit the off button. The screen goes black.

With a sigh of relief, you wait a moment before switching it on again. The screen stays black.

“No, no, no, no,” you plead quietly, but it doesn’t cooperate. Your phone rings and you snap, hitting more buttons: Answer. Speaker. “What?” you hiss.

“Whoa. Hi…?” Xavier’s voice is cautious. “I don’t know if you saw my texts, but Nero—”

“The report, Xavier! I know! I know!” You try holding down your laptop’s power button. “I’m trying to send it, but my shitty computer won’t—”

“No way!” Tara’s voice comes in on the other line; did they both get the night shift? “Hey you! Did you get a chance to—”

“No, ok?!” you practically cry out. “No! Can you two just back off? Please!”

“Oh, sorry, I…” Tara sounds upset, then distracted. “Wait, Xavier wants to speak to you.”

“Are you ok?” he asks after a second.

Ok? You just want everything to stop. “I’m fine. Shit, tell Tara I’m sorry. I am sorry, Xavier, I just… I just need my laptop to…”

Work. Work! Nothing’s working. Half of your files are on there. How much of it is backed-up? Panic is setting in, gripping your body like ice. Your throat hurts and your mouth is dry, the dam is breaking and you can’t stop it. Tears prick at your eyes as you blink at the blank, hopeless screen. Your reflection stares back at you.

You let out a sob, expelling days of frustration and exhaustion. Everywhere you look there’s something you need to do, something you need to learn, something you need to finish. You can’t. You clasp a hand over your mouth, muffling your own cries.

Xavier is speaking— saying something over the phone— but you can’t hear him.

The light changes, and there’s a figure above you, lifting the phone from the desk. “They’ll call you back,” the shadow says. Sylus.

“Wait, who is this?” Xavier.

“That’s Skye!” Tara.

Your friends’ distant voices cut out as Sylus ends the call. He sets the phone down again, nudging your laptop out of view, then lowers himself until all you can see is him: his red eyes, softer than you’ve ever seen them. “Come on, sweetie,” he coaxes, guiding your hands over his shoulders.

You understand what he’s asking of you. His arms wrap around you and you hold him tighter, letting him lift you out of your chair. He feels warm, his skin ever so slightly flushed from where he’s been standing over the stove, and he pulls your legs around his waist, letting him carry you with ease.

With your face buried in his shoulder, you can’t tell where he’s taking you, and you don’t care. His shirt is going damp against your cheeks. You want to stop crying, but you can’t with the taste of your tears on your lips. You feel weak. You feel pathetic.

Something solid is behind you, and Sylus is setting you slowly down on the kitchen counter. He’s away from you for a moment— moving the frying pan off of the heat and turning a dial on the stove— but then he’s back, standing between your legs, standing close. You’re looking down until his hand is under your chin, lifting it with the delicate touch one employs when inspecting a flower that might break.

He shushes you without a hint of impatience. “Look at me,” he directs quietly, and when you do, he unrolls his shirtsleeves— drawing the cuffs over his hands so he can use them to wipe your eyes. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

You do— you tell him everything. The hunter’s exam. The textbooks. The extra patrols you’ve been signing up for. The work you’ve been doing for your friends. The stupid report. The even more stupid computer.

Sylus listens collectedly, nodding his head and issuing the odd hum of understanding. He listens to all of it, and when you’re done, he pushes your hair back from your face with a sympathetic sigh. “Oh, sweetie.” A tendril is tucked behind your ear. “You should have said something.”

“I know.” Your gaze is still shy of his. “But how can I? I need to do this— be this— for everyone.”

His hands are on your cheeks again, drawing back your focus. “You’re just one person,” he says. “You— just you— and that’s all you need to be. You’re stubborn, and strong, but you’re not invincible. Even Linkon’s shiniest hunter is allowed to have limits. Everyone does.”

“Even you?” you snivel, setting him up for a quip.  

Nothing. He smiles. Shrugs. “Even me.”

It’s hard to believe when he’s staring back at you, oh so solid, oh so perfect. Always a picture of strength: of fiery determination or calculated coolness. Everything in extremes; nothing by halves. Except… his hair is slightly dishevelled from where he’s been working away in the heat. There’s a damp patch on his shirt. He’s wearing your pink apron, and there’s mascara on his sleeves.

Then there’s the way he’s looking at you.

It shifts when you finally look back. He drops his hands from your face and pulls back a little. “You do a lot for your friends,” he continues with confidence, but he’s rubbing his neck, “and they care about you. You should afford them the chance to return the favour. It’s only fair.”

“You’re right.”

“…Good.”

Perhaps it’s the fact you’ve vaguely composed yourself— or the way you’re watching him like you’re seeing something new— but he straightens self-consciously, rolling his shirtsleeves back up as his eyes go sharp: assuming their usual severity.

“You’re too soft, kitten,” he scolds, reaching out to tousle your hair until you’re glaring daggers from behind a curtain of it. “How many times do I have to tell you? You put yourself first. Always. No-one else matters.”

There’s quiet for all of a second. He can’t help correcting: “Well, except me, of course.” The apron’s crooked, and he flattens it with a brush of his hands. “Any time spent with me qualifies as self-care. You really should know that by now, sweetie.”

Your mouth curls, but you haven’t quite got it in you to laugh— not yet. Stretching his neck with two sideways tips of his head, Sylus returns to his post at the oven, where the meal he’s cooking has almost certainly gone cold. You watch as the stove flickers back to life. The man is humming again, and though the food might yet be salvaged, whatever melody he’s attempting is long-past recognition, let alone saving.

You chuckle to yourself.

And you can’t see it, but Sylus is smiling, too.

[peachysunrize]

The other Woman ⥃ senator! Aemond Targaryen

Summary: you were supposed to be a secret, his temptation in the dark not his scandal after the taste of heaven you experienced together.

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut smut, like literally so much smut, p in v, angst (so much angst), age gap (Aemond is 36 reader is 25. It’s not specified but since he’s a candidate he should be over 35), cheating & infidelity, heavy alcohol consumption (one scene), breeding, humiliation (a little bit), oral (f & m receiving ), rough sex, illicit affair, modern westerosi senator Aemond (doing this because I have no idea about real life election and political debates and how they take place and I can change it however I like), near death experience, car accident and driving while drunk, hurt/comfort, happy ending!! English isn’t my first language.

Word count: 8.58k+ (no beta we die like Beesburybury)

A/n: so, this thought was originally a very dark concept, but I changed it because now it’s much more interesting than the first one lol. Long, smutty, angst! The whole political idea is a sideline for the plot but it gives you an idea of what kind of Aemond we’re dealing with! Please reblog and comment and tell me your opinion!

A very special thank you to @namelesslosers for putting up with my crazy ideas<3😭💕

Every time you walk through this hallway, you ask yourself how you got into this situation. Perhaps it was at the first debate when you met him backstage; tall, dark, brooding, and quiet with a lazy smirk on his thin lips, as he pressed a gentle kiss atop your knuckles, side-eyeing your seething father in the process.

Maybe it was when you ran into him at another party, courtesy of being a senator's daughter and getting invited with high-class families. Your father had sent you there, “showing face” he explained, but you knew he wanted information. Aemond had danced around you that night, knowing exactly why you were there, talking and leading you on with conversations in the dark hallway of the mansion you were in.

It could have been the second debate as well. This time, it was not just backstage, but when he saw you in that denty dress you were wearing, he had cornered you and kept his heated gaze on your lips for a hot minute before he reached and pressed his thumb over your pillowy bottom lip.

Does it matter how it started? Certainly not, not when it’s been a good few months since this thing has been going on.

You stop in front of the hotel room; the only suite on the floor. Always cautious, always careful. You’ve been sneaking into this floor for weeks, entering the hotel from the back door to not be seen, taking the workers’ elevator and now, alone in the middle of this red carpeted floor, you ask yours again how you got yourself into this position. And the second you knock, all the worries and fears vanish.

Aemond opens the door, his cigarette burning between his long fingers as he gazes at you. His white shirt is untucked and unbuttoned, his dress pants already tightened by his bubbling desire for you while he waited for hours to get out of his speech and meet with you.

He doesn’t say anything, pulling you in with his free hand, kicking the door shut before he pushes you against it, leaning over you with his forearm on the door and the other on your hip.

“Rough day?” You ask, running your palms over the pale skin of his abs, caressing his chest and stomach as you look up at him through your lashes.

“Your father was unnerving today,” he rests his forehead on yours, breathing in your perfume, “I broke the pen when he started talking about how he’d do everything I wanted to do but better. Who makes a political debate like that? He can’t even stand for what he has planned to do.”

“He has the talent of getting under everyone’s skin, it doesn’t help that he’s a jealous man as well,” you cup his cheek, running the pad of your thumb over his high cheekbones.

“He does, a trait I’m sure I have seen in someone as well,” he bends down, prepping kisses over your cheek, “he told me I was too perfect to become a president. I have no fucking idea what he is after. He talks about me all the time instead of his plans, I think he’s obsessed with me.”

“Pity, I would have loved to see his face when he said that, knowing that the person he called perfect fucks his daughter every day,” you giggle when he bites down on your neck, making you hiss and thread your fingers through his long blonde hair.

“What were you doing if you weren't watching me beat your father to the pulp?” He keeps his assault on your neck, leaving marks and little swollen bites. He breaks away from your skin to take a drag of his cigarette, wrapping his thin pink lips around the paper edges as he inhales the smoke in, a deep hum drumming through his chest when he leans and presses his lips to yours, blowing the smoke into your eager mouth.

You pull him closer, lapping at his tongue while you inhale the burning smoke, moaning in protest when he breaks the kiss sooner than you wished for. You blow out the remaining smoke to his face, biting your bottom lip as you find his good eye taking every inch of you in with his blown and foggy pupil.

“I was buying pretty dresses for you,” you whisper against his lips before grabbing his hand and pulling him gently toward the bedroom, watching with hazy eyes as he inhales another pile of smoke, keeping his eye locked on the exposed skin of your shoulders.

He loves it when you wear dresses that leave your neck and shoulders bare; it’s tantalizing and alluring in the best way possible. They make him lose the tiny self-control he has and let go of his burdens and responsibilities. He likes how free you make him feel, younger and livelier.

“Hmm?” You giggle when he doesn’t realize what question you are responding to, already too drunk on your scent that has his mind in a mush.

“You asked what I was doing,” you guide him towards the bed, “I was shopping for your upcoming party, Mr. Senator. I have a public image to maintain.” “Yes, but not with flaunting yourself like a slut,” he hisses when you push him down on the mattress, and he takes his cigar and puts it out by pressing it on the ashtray atop his nightstand with a bit of difficulty.

“Don’t be mean, sir,” faking a pout, you unzip your dress slowly, knowing how possessive he can get even though you are not his in the eyes of the public, “it’s all for you anyway, I like to see your face when I come with my friends to your mansion, all dolled up just for you but no one can know.” “Ah yes, I often forget how much you enjoy being my mistress,” he says, licking his lips when you kick off your shoes and crawl onto his lap, his large warm palms coming up to rest on your bare hips.

“Don’t put all the blame on me, you said you’d never slept with your wife!” You push him on his back, grinning as you let your nails deep in his soft exposed skin, “You were the one who begged me to sleep with you anyway!”

“Hmm, and I’m glad that I did,” he smirks at you, pinching your hips, making you gasp, “now, I’ve had a very rough day with your father, be a good girl and take my mind off everything else that isn’t your sweet pussy.”

You nod obediently before starting to grind your clothed sex over the tent in his pants, moving your hips slowly but firmly, eliciting a deep groan from Aemond as he lies beneath you with his silver hair spread around his head like a shiny halo. You lean down, leaving kisses over his chest and abdomen as you slowly lower yourself on the floor, running your hands all over his thighs and slim waist, nuzzling your face into his crotch, and looking at him oh so sweetly when he sits up.

Aemond pushes your hair out of your face, running the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip as he watches you prep kisses over the fabric of his pants, fingers fidgeting with his belt, and once you have successfully undid it, you pull it out of the loops and drop it on the floor.

He chuckles lowly when you grab his zipper with your teeth, pulling it down slowly while you stare into his eye — the blue of his iris is completely gone. You pull his pants down when he unbuttons them, lifting his hips in the process for you. Aemond sighs as soon as his cock is free from the confines of his pants, closing his eye as the cool air of the room hits his heated skin. 

“No underwear?” You tease him, reaching to hold his hot and twitching member in your hand, stroking it to full hardness while your free hand rubs soothing circles on his hip bone.

“The weather is too hot to wear anything under these horrendous dress pants,” he replies breathlessly when you lean down and start trailing kitten kisses from the base of his cock up to his tip, humming at the earthy and musky scent.

“And here I thought you were too desperate to give me easy access,” you mutter, taking his tip in your mouth, not letting him come up with a witty answer.

Aemond leans on his elbows, his hand finding its place on top of your head, not pushing down, but just to show you who’s in charge. His chest rises and falls rapidly when you swirl your tongue around him slowly, rubbing the tip of your tongue on the right places that you know make him weak and needy.

He groans, pushing your head down a little; a quick warning for you to remember that a dragon has no patience when the smell of fresh meat fills its senses.

You oblige, taking more of him in your mouth, relaxing your jaw, and guiding him further down your throat with both hands on the base of his cock, stroking what you can’t fit. He angles your face upwards, forcing you to look him in the eye as he fills your mouth and stretches your jaw with his girth.

“I will never get tired of this sight, fuck—” he throws his head back, his exhales getting sharper and deeper, “If only your father could see you like this; his daughter sucking off his enemy like it’s her last meal.”

You moan around him, brows twisted in a deep frown and eyes teary as he pushes you down, bobbing your head along his length at a pace he likes. In return, he rewards you with grunts and puffs of air that rumble through his chest and make you even more determined to bring him closer to his peak, but he pulls you off him as soon as he feels his dick twitching in your mouth, not wanting to come before he fucks you senseless.

You gasp for air when he pulls out, a string of saliva connecting your swollen lips to the head of his glistening cock. He pulls you up by your hair, smashing his lips into yours, pulling you in for a deep messy kiss as he helps you straddle him again. You sit with your knees on each side of his hips, cupping his face in the process while your lips move languidly, fiercely, and harshly. The kiss is full of clashes of teeth and molding of tongues and wetness, something you both enjoy deeply.

Aemond’s hands wander over your naked form, squeezing your buttocks and scratching the dip of your waist with his trimmed nails before he switches your position and lies you down on the bed without breaking off the kiss. Spreading your legs for him, he moves and makes home between them quickly, rubbing his leaking cock to your clothed pussy, growling inside your mouth in desperation.

You pull your lips away from his lips, mouth falling open immediately when he nuzzles his face into your neck and starts sucking and biting on your flesh like a rabid dog, not letting go of your skin until he’s sure there are big and small blue and violet marks littered all over you.

“Fuck, Aemond just—ah!” You whimper when his long fingers rub over the wet patch on your panties, pressing and moving them up and down until you buck your hips to his hand, searching for more stimulation that he is depriving you of.

“Tsk tsk, use your words, darling,” he says, sinking his teeth into your earlobe while he moves your panties to the side, hovering his thumb over the hood of your clit, “how can I give into your every whim when you can’t speak up for you so?” He sounds disappointed, and it only brings tears to your eyes — more tears, considering he had you near crying when he was fucking your face.

“Please, I-I need…” you are cut off by a sharp gasp leaving your lips as Aemond’s thumb rubs around your puffy clit, not giving into your sweet whines and whimpers, not even caring how tempting they sound. 

“Sweet girl, come on, tell me, do you want me to play with your pretty cunt? Hmm?” He asks in a serious tone, too serious for your liking, because when you look up at him with pouting and watery eyes, he tsks again, and you can feel the heat of his thumb near where you need him the most, but his finger is too far away.

“Yes, yes, please—“

“There is my good girl,” he kisses your tears away, finally caving in and giving you what you need, circling over your buzzing nerves gently but slowly, just the right way to have your mind shutting off to the point of the only thought that is left is him and his magical fingers.

You buck beneath him, wrapping one arm around his shoulder and the other one grabbing his waist as he keeps his thumb pressed firmly into your clit, pressing kisses all over your tear-stained cheeks.

“Mmm, tastes so sweet, darling,” he whispers as he licks your tears, pushing a finger inside you as if testing the waters before adding another, scissoring your open for his cock slowly, thrusting them in and out faster than before.

“Aemond, please, I’ve been good!” 

Your voice awakens something in him, something primal and hungry, ready to devour you whole. He groans in response, leaning down to kiss you feverishly, retrieving his fingers from you only to replace them with the tip of his cock, running it up and down against your drenched folds before pressing in slowly.

He pulls away from your lips, giving both of you time to catch your breath and relax as he carves his way within your gummy walls. You both moan in delight as he finally reaches your deepest parts, his hips flush against yours as the two of you try to catch your breath.

Aemond slowly draws his hips back before driving himself forward, knocking the breath out of your lungs as he gains speed. You fist the bedsheets, back arching in response to him hitting your sweet spot rapidly, drawing ragged breaths and little yelps of pleasure from your parted lips.

“So beautiful, fuck, darling,” he groans into your skin, straightening his back a little to hover his face over yours to look at you from a better angle, “I would set this town on fire for you.” “Aemond, I-I’m close—” You gasp when his finger travels down your stomach and reaches the bundle of nerves and starts rubbing it quickly, drawing you closer to your breaking point. 

He isn’t in a better situation either; he is panting with his cock twitching deep inside you as his desire for you overflows his senses. 

His rhythm falters as soon as you clamp around him tightly, gushing around him with a shout of his name, which sends him over the edge as well. He pulls out instantly, ignoring the your whine in protest before he sits on his knees next to your head, stroking his cock with his head thrown back.

“Open your mouth, darling—fuck, there she is, good girl…” he groans when you close your eyes and stick out your tongue, catching the ropes of his cum on your face and tongue. He whimpers out your name, his shoulders relaxing finally, tension leaving his body as he empties himself on you.

“Messy girl,” he taunts you, reaching to pull a napkin out of the nightstand’s drawer, lying down next to you to wipe his cum off your face gently, his other hand caressing your bare stomach and breasts to soothe you through the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“You made a mess out of me, baby,” you say, smiling softly when he leans down to peck your lips after dropping the napkin back in its place, pushing his pants and shirt fully off to join you under the covers.

“Aemond?” you call him, laying your head on his chest when he pulls you closer, “I’m tired of this.”

“This? What do you mean?” he asks, his fingers tracing meaningless patterns on your back while he waits for you to answer him.

“This game of cat and mouse, always sneaking in, my father this my father that… I’m tired of being just a secret.” “You knew what you were getting yourself in when we first slept with each other,” Aemond huffs, “It’ll always be like this, darling. We would have to spend our days away from everyone.” “But Aemond, we can go on dates in so many ways! Please, we can go on a trip to Lys, no one knows you there, and we will leave all of this election and your political worries in King’s Landing!” You try to reason with him, turning around in his arms to look into his eye.

“Sweet girl, he reaches to push a strand of your hair behind your ear, “There is not much time left until the—”

“— election, I know. But you can spare three days to stay with me. Don’t you think it’s worth it?”

“Our lives and future will be ruined if we get caught. It will cause a huge scandal that I and my team are not ready to face. I might become the next president of Westeros, I need to win over your father.” He explains logically, and you feel stupid for mentioning the idea of going out and being seen in public with him.

“I’m sorry, I know… it was a dumb idea.” you avert your eyes away from him, biting your bottom lip as guilt and shame fills you. “Hey, look at me,” he gently switches positions so you lay beneath him again, “I wish we could go on dates and I had the chance to show you off. Maybe after all of this mess, I’ll be able to divorce my wife, but till then…  As long as I have you in my arms, nothing matters.”

•••••••••••••••••••••••

The days pass quickly. You watch your father and Aemond in the news, paparazzi following you and your family around the city bombarding you with questions about things you didn’t care about. Until one day, your father receives an invitation from Aemond Targaryen himself for a party at his house.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise when your father called you and asked — more like demanding — that you should be the one attending this party. After all, he couldn’t put himself past that hatred to go to this party in his rival’s house. Apparently, his daughter could though, as if it wasn’t dangerous to send you to the dragon’s cave with no support.

You agreed a bit too eagerly, trying to play it off cool and keep calm while you panicked from inside. You’d be saying Aemond again, publicly, without sneaking from a back door, or a secret passageway. 

Choosing a dress wasn’t difficult when you had the design of one of Aemond’s mom’s dresses; a knee-length dress in light blue and off-shoulder with a little cut that exposed your lower thigh, knowing how crazy Aemond would get if he saw you in things he has bought for you.

Your curls fall around your shoulders as you walk toward the main entrance of the mansion, catching the attention of all the photographers and guests. You walk up the stairs that lead to the house, eyes searching for the silhouette of the only person you care for in this messy crowd.

You find him easily; his long hair shines underneath the dim light of the hall, and his tall frame and the champagne in his hands stand proudly among the people who look so simple and boring compared to him.

He is wearing a long deep blue coat with thin silver embroideries on it with a black shirt and pants, and next to him… you just catch the eyes of his wife, Floris Baratheon-Targaryen, who is smiling proudly at the ladies and gentlemen surrounding them.

“Ah, love, look who’s here,” she threads her fingers through Aemond’s, excusing themselves as the pair come to greet you. Floris is beautiful with long black hair and a charming smile — no wonder she is Aemond’s wife, the perfect image of a dutiful wife, “It’s such a pleasure to have you here.”

You accept her hand, shaking it gently before you avert your eyes from her to her husband, locking your eyes with his as you try not to let him see any emotion on your face. You are ashamed of yourself, Floris looks like a kind soul, and you have been having an affair with her husband for months, but even now that you have met her, the guilt and shame are not enough for you to step away from what you have with Aemond.

“How is your father? Not too sour I hope,” he smirks, wrapping an arm around Floris’ waist as he has always done with you in the confines of his hotel room.

“Why would he be sour, Mr. Targaryen? Last time I checked the numbers were quite against your favor,” you reply, thanking the waiter who brings you a glass of champagne, “He made sure I show you his gratitude for the invitation. He was horribly upset for not being able to join us tonight.”

“Well, yes,” he chuckles darkly and you can see how his fingers clench the fabric of Floris’ dress, “He is a busy man, he should be thinking of a backup plan after he loses to me.”

“Is that what you are doing, sir? I assume this party…is your way of gaining support now, isn’t it?”

“Aemond,” his wife utters, smiling hesitantly at him, “maybe you should show our new gallery to her, politics can be a hard topic to talk about in such a noisy place.” “Splendid idea, wife,” Aemond kisses Floris’ forehead while his eye is solely focused on you, “Shall we, Miss?” he offers you his arm, looking around the room to see if anyone is paying attention to you or not.

“I would love to,” you say through gritted teeth, an ugly jealousy bubbling inside you as you loop your arm with his, walking side by side to the new gallery. You shouldn’t be feeling like this, it is not your place to have complicated emotions when you are the other woman.

“After you,” he holds the door open for you, his eye scanning you from head to toe, catching the sight of his mother’s designer dress before he leads you inside the gallery, closing the door shut and locking it from inside.

“Didn’t know you were into art, Aemond. It’s a welcoming surprise,” you say, sipping on your drink while you walk past him, not sparing him a glass as you look at the paintings.”

“You need to work on your emotions, darling,” he says, putting his champagne glass on the nearest table he can find before he makes his way to you, “We wouldn’t want everyone to find out how close we actually are.” “No, Aemond, you don’t want that,” you chuckle in disbelief, drinking the rest of the remaining liquor in your glass before you put it on the same table as he did, standing in front of him with a burning rage inside your eyes, “I want them to know! I’m sick of this, I don’t deserve to be a whore for you in secret!”

“This was what we agreed on!” his voice echoes in the room as he grabs you by the nape of your hair, bringing your face closer to his, “whore or not, I can't bear to lose the elections I have been working my whole life for! And I can’t… I can’t lose you either—” You both turn around when a loud banging sound comes from the other side of the room. You look at Aemond in terror, stepping closer to him before you hear the door at the end of the hall is pushed open. He grabs your hand and pulls you toward a narrow and dark hallway that is attached to the gallery. You have a clear view of the paintings and the waiters who are carrying several drinks together, luckily, it can’t be said for them. They would need to round the corner and bend down a little to find this place. Aemond pushes you against the wall, his large palm covering your mouth as footsteps grow quieter when they leave the gallery.

“Aemo—mmh!” he doesn’t let you finish as he silences you with his mouth engulfing yours in a passionate kiss, his fingers clutching your hips like his life depends on touching you, breathing in your scent, and tasting your lipstick.

“Shh, be quiet,” he turns you around, pressing his chest to your back before he reaches down to pull your dress up to your hips, mouthing at your neck as his hand finds the hem of your underwear.

“We shouldn’t do it here, Aemond, we might get caught!” you hiss at him, gasping when he pushes your panties to the side, running the pad of his fingers along your slit, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your face.

“I thought you wanted everyone to know about us, hmm?” He teases you, letting go of your wet folds for a second as he unbuckles his belt, unzips, and pushes his pants down enough to pull his cock out.

“Not like this!” You sigh desperately, hands bracing your weight on the wall when he lines his leaking tip with your entrance, thrusting his full length inside you with ease.

He slaps his hand on your mouth again when he is completely sheathed inside your warm and dripping cunt, muffling your noises as best as he can before he starts thrusting into you with abandon.

In his mind, you look too beautiful, too gorgeous and breathtaking, and the longer he looks at you, the more passionate he is about driving his cock inside you, fucking you with all his love and adoration.

“You make me go fucking crazy,” he nearly growls, his hips pistoning against yours as he nuzzles his nose into your cheek, eye closed and cheeks painted pink. He pushes two of his fingers inside your mouth, his own lips parted as ragged breaths and throaty groans fall from them. 

You are a mess just as he is; eyes closed, hips moving with each of his abandoned and reckless thrusts, while your body floats in pleasure. It’s quick, sudden, and mind wrecking; you come with a muffled scream around his thick fingers, and he follows you as soon as your walls tighten around him, squeezing the cum out of his cock.

He presses you to the wall, groaning and panting as he fills you to the brim, his teeth catching your earlobe while he tries to ground himself with all the euphoria running through his veins.

“Aemond,” you pull his digits out of your mouth, resting your head on his shoulders as the two of you try to regain your breaths, heartbeat slowly dropping back to normal.

“Lys…” he says, and you crane your neck to look at him in confusion, “Pack your bag for a few days.”

“What?” You ask, eyes wide and hopeful as you stare at him, he grins in response, planting a sweet kiss on your lips, “We’re going to Lys.”

“Are you serious?” 

“Deadly,” He winks at you and pulls his softened cock out of you slowly before he makes himself presentable again, his hands finding their place on your hips once again, “now, don’t sulk anymore. You’re too lovely to be upset because of me.”

“I was not sulking, but… but what about the paparazzi? The election? Are you sure?” You shake a little, maybe both in fear and excitement before you cup his face, staring into his ocean-blue eye.

“Shh, don’t fret, I have thought about everything. No one knows who we are and we’ll stay in a yacht. I have talked to Cole to get it ready for us.”

“You… you are amazing, Aemond!” You crash your lips to him, pressing several kisses to his face, leaving careless red marks on his pale skin.

“Anything for my girl,” he whispers against your lips, chuckling as you keep your assault on his face, “but we should head back to the party. I’m sure they’re looking for me.”

“Yes, yes, of course!” I laugh a little before fixing your hair and sneaking out of your hiding place.

“I’ll meet you outside, alright, sweet girl?” He asks you, pecking your lips before pointing to one of the paintings to make it seem you are still busy looking at the new art hanging on the wall while he unlocks and moves out of the room.

Floris finds him instantly, moving towards him with a man who follows her as well, eager to meet him. Aemond clears his throat when they reach the door of the gallery, pulling him into a conversation he has no choice but to join.

Oblivious to him, his wife’s eyes catch the faint red lipstick stain under his jaw.

•••••••••••••••••••••••

If you were told that this country was this beautiful, you would’ve never believed them. Everything is brighter in color, people have no clue who you are which makes everything much more exciting.

You’ve been in Lys for two days already, fucking on every surface of the yacht, quickies in different places around the city, sightseeing, and spending time together.

It was all you’ve ever wanted from this relationship; some peaceful alone time as a couple, not as a secret.

There is a weird feeling of being watched by someone that has been with you since you stepped inside the city as if someone is following you around. At first, you thought it could be a photographer who somehow caught sight of you and decided to make money out of it. But again, no one knows who either you or Aemond is…

You don’t pay attention to it, but the feeling is still with you as soon as you step on the deck of the yacht, your sundress moving with the wind as you gaze over the sea.

“Not very thoughtful of you to leave me all alone in the bed,” Aemond says, walking towards you with his hands in his pockets, “I missed you already.”

“That’s good to know because I’ve missed you too,” you turn around, moving to the cushions that are secured to the deck before lying down on them, stretching yourself as he stands tall above you, “more so your mouth.”

“Insatiable beast,” he calls you, “what have I done to deserve you?” He drops on his knees and crawls towards you, a wicked grin on his face as he reaches your ankle, grabbing and pulling you towards him with ease.

“Your mouth is a miracle, I’ve been blessed to witness it with my own eyes,” you match his tone, spreading your legs for him.

As soon as his eye falls on your bare pussy, he lets out a long sigh in delight before latching his mouth to the flesh of your thighs, kissing and nibbling as he makes his way up to your center, flattening his lavish tongue against your folds, licking a fat stripe of your wetness before humming and kissing your clit.

You lay back, letting him take care of you slowly, building your pleasure until you break under his touch. He starts with slow licks and kisses, making lews sounds as he gains his speed, fingers digging into the fat of your thighs while he keeps you in place.

Throwing your head back, you moan his name, fingers tangling themselves in his soft silky hair as he speeds up and shoves his face further between your thighs, his large nose nudging your clit in the best way possible.

You open your eyes and look around; the view is mesmerizing. Next to where you are is a huge wood that separates the city from Aemond’s private dock, yet the greens of the trees don’t catch your attention but a sudden flash of light does. It happens again, this time a bit faster, a bit closer. It could be anything, maybe a reflection of light, and you desperately hope that is the case and the flash doesn’t belong to a camera.

Luckily, Aemond’s tongue distracts you from your thoughts, and you arch your back when his thumb joins the patterns he is drawing on your nerves. You look down at him, catching the raw emotions that dance in his eye; adoration, love if you dare say. Soon, when he makes you come, all the thoughts of those mysterious flashes are gone, and only pleasure is left for you to focus on — the knot he created, snaps, and ecstasy rushes in your blood.

“Baby,” you pull him up, chest heaving with delight as your legs stop shaking, “I think I saw someone.”

“No one is allowed here, don’t worry, sweet girl,” he says between kisses on your chest as he makes his way up your stomach to kiss you.

“But it looked like a camera flash,” You kiss him back slowly, lying on your side to face him, “Are you sure no one can go past your guards?” “Yes, please, don’t think about it. It’s just you and me, darling.”

Oh, how wrong he was.

•••••••••••••••••••••••

It’s been twenty days since the last time you heard his voice, twenty days of agony and pain. You were caught, you did not imagine things. The day you arrived at King’s Landing, you saw the news; your pictures from your trip with him were all over the internet, the moment on the night, the kissing in the sea, wandering in the city — your illicit affair was publicized. By whom you have no idea. Maybe Aemond’s wife, maybe your father, but at the end of the day, nothing hurt more than when after days of trying to contact your lover, he broke everything off with a single text from his assistant. 

After that, your parents cast you aside; your mom screamed at you while your father cheered in victory. After all, those pictures caused a huge scandal and rift in his rival’s team. He didn’t care what would happen to you as long as you didn’t do anything like this again that would result in his downfall. They closed your bank accounts that they had access to and left you alone on your own. Fortunately, you weren’t too dependent on your father’s money and had persued a career to pay for your necessities, but now, none of it mattered.

Your days pass numbly with hundreds of calls and texts to Aemond. There is nothing left inside you willing to get up and do something, to fix this mess even a little, to pull yourself out of this deep hole you have dug with your hands. 

You read the text again as you curl on the loveseat, sobbing and clutching your phone to your chest. Mr. Taragryen has no interest in being involved with you anymore, and the more you read it, the more your body ache for him. It feels like a knife being shoved inside your chest, twisting and ripping your lungs in the process while you melt under the sharpness of it, taking it because you have no choice left but to do so.

You did it to yourself; what were you thinking? How did you ever think that getting involved with an important man was a good idea? A married and much older one at that. Now you scroll through the leaked pictures with a heavy heart and silent tears running down your face. The headlines are cruel, far worse than you had ever thought about.

Whore of a daughter wins the election for the father!

Aemond Targaryen cheats on his wife with his rival’s daughter; several intimate pictures have been caught during their visit to Lys…

Aemond Targaryen, an honorable man seduced by a younger girl, WESTEROSI reports…

You throw your phone on the floor, nearly falling from the loveseat from how aggressively you move. You want to scream from the top of your lungs, to curse and shout, but it was your idea to go somewhere, for him to take you on a date. It is all your fault.

The doorbell rings and startles you. You get up immediately, thinking it must be your parents or one of your friends to come and check up on you, but when you open the door with bloodshot eyes and find Aemond standing there, your knees nearly give out.

“A-Aemond?” you stutter, eyes watering at the sight of his messy clothes and hair — he looks just as fucked up as you.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” with one step, his arms engulf you in a tight embrace, and you cry. Fat ugly tears run down your face as he holds you close, his own tears falling after days of being apart from you. He couldn't stay away, he had to come and see you. Every day without you felt like a lifetime, never-ending torture he had to endure while Criston and his mother did everything they could to save his public image, and Floris, well, she was quite content with everything.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you…” he presses several kisses to the crown of your head, holding you incredibly close to him as he leads you back into your house, shutting the door behind him. You have your arms wrapped around him, holding onto his shoulders as he sits you down on the couch, making sure to pull you into his lap so you won’t feel alone again.

“Aemond?” you ask, your voice so little, so fragile that it breaks his heart into million pieces.

“Yes, darling?” he lifts your head, his thumb wiping your tears gently while he shushes you, watching your lips tremble in disbelief, “Tell me, tell me what I can do to make you feel better.”

“Why did you let go of me so easily?” you ask, fiddling with the collar of his shirt, “I was so alone, I-I am alone, I have no one! How could you—” you hiccup, a sob wrecking your body as you talk.

“I had to, sweet girl, I had to. My public image, my campaign, everything was near destruction if it weren’t for the distance between us. I had to do it.”

“I lost everything, Aemond! My parents, my friends… I was called a whore, your mistress, a side chick. You nearly lost everything, I did lose everything!” you gasp for air as another wave of pain spreads in your chest.

“What can I do for you, darling? I’m here now, I’ll do whatever you wish for me to do, please,” he begs, the first and probably the last time you’ll hear Aemond Targaryen plead for something.

“I love you, Aemond, please make the pain go away.”

He leans down, capturing your mouth in a slow kiss, painting his devotion on the canvas of your lips as he moves them together. He feels you relax in his arms when you start kissing him back. He lies you on the couch gently, never breaking the kiss as he sucks the breath out of your lungs with each passing second that e tastes you.

You melt under his touch, the fingers you adore so much move along the length of your body. His lips let go of yours for a second before he hovers atop you completely and brings you in for another deep kiss. His fingers are cold against your heated skin as they move your shirt upward, to eventually pull the fabric off your head. 

He breaks the kiss to trail his lips to your neck, leaving butterfly kisses all over your jaw and collarbones as he moves lower until he reaches your bra. He circles his hand to unhook it, and he does, he pushes the strap on one of your shoulders down slowly before he stops.

Aemond stops.

Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach as he moves his face away from your shoulder to kiss you fiercely for a hot few seconds before he pulls away, shaking his head in shame.

“Ae-Aemond, why did you…” “No…” he says, a few tears fall from his remaining eye as he gazes at you past his wet lashes, “I can’t do this.”

“What do you mean?” your voice quivers, and Aemond stands up immediately when he hears how broken you sound, leaving you half-naked on your couch, “Aemond, please!”

“I can’t make the same mistake twice,” he mutters as he moves toward the entrance door, “I still have a chance. I can win the election, I can—” “A mistake? Do you truly feel we were a mistake?”

“I am sure we were. We have ruined our lives for what? For sex, for lust?”

“For love!” you scream, holding your hand to your chest to prevent your bra from falling, “I didn’t want anything from you; not your money, not any status, I wanted you, just you.” 

“I can’t do this—”

“Aemond, please, no!” You cry out running to block his way, “Don’t go, please, don’t leave me again. I can’t take it if you leave me all alone, I have lost everything for you! Please, please—”

He cups your cheek, pressing one last lingering kiss while his own tears fall on your cheek, “Goodbye.” He moves past you and leaves.

“NO!” you break down and fall on your knees, and for once in your life, you feel truly helpless.

•••••••••••••••••••••••

You don’t remember how long has it been since that day; it could be a few days, or months. You don’t even remember how you got into this dingy dirty bar close to your place. It’s dark and gloomy with a heavy rain thrumming outside the window while you drown your sixth shot of bourbon. 

You are not an alcoholic, in fact, the only time you drink is at parties and formal events. Tonight though, you need to let go and unwind for a bit and unfortunately, in a very apathetic mood, you decided that drinking was the best option. 

The lovely bartender glares at you when you ask for another shot but doesn’t say anything and does as you ask, keeping a close eye on you to make sure you’ll be alright.

You keep staring at the rim of your glass, eyes filled with tears and sorrow until someone slides into the stool next to you. Looking up, you see a familiar face, Aemond’s wife. What is she doing here? Does she want to taunt you even more? To make sure you are suffering far worse than she did? “I see you are adapting well to the new changes,” Floris says, pointing at the bartender to pour her whatever you are drinking.

“Are you following me now?” you scoff, drowning the amber liquid in your glass, “Wasn’t my public humiliation enough for you?”

“You were fucking my husband, of course, it will never be enough. You should suffer for how you ruined his reputation,” she looks at you, waiting for you to come up with a witty reply.

“He said you never slept with each other…” You whisper in response, “He loved me.” “How fucking naive you are. He never loved you, he lied to your face and you still defend him,” she sneers, running a hand through her wild black curls, “He used you, it was all a part of his plans. You were just a pawn in his game.”

“He didn’t… he-he…” you take a deep breath, not wanting to cry in front of Floris of all people. He didn’t do these things, Aemond would never do that to you. He has no reason to, or does he?

“Do you truly think these numbers just go up and down because of the citizens? Aemond changed them to his liking, he has never had the intention of winning this year. He wants to be remembered so he may come back stronger than before and take over Westeros—”

“You don’t make any fucking sense! Leave me alone,” You stand up to move away from her, but she grabs your arms before you have the chance to run away.

“He used you to gain information from your father’s campaign! I just helped him speed things up by hiring those photographers,” 

“It was you… you ruined my life,” you pull your hand out of her grip, “You destroyed everything he has worked so hard for! How could you do this to your husband?” “He was cheating on me!”

“So were you! You were cheating too!” you yell at her before grabbing your purse and running out of the bar, crying hysterically. Nothing makes sense, you don’t know how you held that conversation for so long. What she said or what you replied repeats in your head, but it’s all a blur, a mess of words and echoes of high-pitched screams.

You reach your car, stumbling on your feet as you get in with some difficulty. Driving while awfully drunk is not a good decision, but you must get away from Floris, the bar, and everyone. Firing the engine, you pull the car out of the park, driving past the speed limit into the alley without looking around you.

You can’t see, you can’t hear, and all you can do is speed up while heavy tears fall from your eyes once more as you think about everything you shared with Aemond. Was any of it real? Were you a silly fling for him to gain information?

Suddenly, the sound of a horn catches your attention, and you see the light of another car coming your way. You try to break, but every time you press the pedal, the car doesn’t stop. Each time you fail, and you realize too late that you’ll either crash into the other car or you try to do something. 

But time isn’t always on your side, and the last thing you see before blacking out is how your car hits the tree and the airbags open.

•••••••••••••••••••••••

Aemond bolts through hospital doors, repeating your name until someone pays attention and shows him the way to the ER. As soon as he reaches the end of the hallway, the doctor steps out and tries to calm him.

“How is she? What happened?”

“Calm down, sir, she’s alright—“

“I need to see her, please, let me go inside—“

The doctor declines, grabbing Aemond’s shoulders when he tries to step inside the room, “She’s under anesthesia, she probably won’t be up until noon. She has lost so much blood, two broken ribs, and a minor head trauma. She’s lucky she’s alive.”

The doctor leaves him alone, and Aemond slides down on the hospital floor, resting his head on the wall as he thinks about how terrible you must have felt when he left without any further explanation.

He cries softly, shoulders shaking with each sob that shocks his body. He’s not known to be a vulnerable person, but ever since you came into his life, he’s been changing; a bit softer around the edges of his heart, he smiles more, he relaxes more often than not, and he’s been much happier. But now, the thought of you going through such a horrible thing while he was away sleeping in his bed makes him hate himself even more for what he put you through.

He totally forgets about the elections that are taking place today, he can’t care less about what would happen, it means nothing when he can’t have you next to him. He declines every call from his mom and assistant, only sending a text to say he won’t return for the day.

His heart pops out of his chest when he sees the nurses pushing your bed towards one of the rooms.

“How is she?” He asks, looking down at your unconscious body. How beautiful you look even with bruises and wounds over your face.

“She’ll be fine, sir,” one of the nurses says, “all she needs is rest and good company.”

“When will she wake up?” He swallows, watching them closely while they hang your serums and connect different tubes.

“Hopefully in a few hours. Her body has experienced too much trauma and she should take as much rest as she can.”

He nods in agreement, waiting for them to leave before h breaks down, reaching to hold your sofy hand in his, kissing all over your knuckles and fingers, whispering praises of how he’ll cherish you and won’t leave you ever, he won’t put you through what he did again. He falls asleep with your hands in his, dried tears adoring his high cheekbones. He feels a soft hand reaching to wipe the remaining wetness, leaving soft caresses over his skin.

He opens his eye, finding you smiling softly at him as best as you can while fighting the pain. He sniffles and presses his lips desperately to the back of your hand, thanking the Seven for bringing you back to him.

“Hey,”

“Shh, please, don’t talk. You need to rest,” he reaches to push your hair out of your forehead, letting his fingers linger on your face for a little while before he holds your hand again, “what happened?”

“Well…” you cough, wincing in discomfort and pain before you continue, “I got drunk and…your wife came. We argued, she said some…nasty things about you…”

“What did she say, sweet girl?” He asks hesitantly, keeping his lips locked to your hand, “Don’t push yourself too much. If it bothers you—“

“She sent the photographers,” you sigh, closing your eyes for a moment, “she confessed it herself. She sent them because she wanted to help you. She said you didn’t want to win the elections, that you…you just used me to gain information on my father’s doings.”

“I would never do that, love, I would kill myself rather than ever thinking about hurting you.”

“But you did, Aemond. You hurt me when you left me at my house like garbage needed to be dumped. I was so alone, everyone left me, why does everyone leave me?” You ask, teardrops streaming down your cheeks.

“I will never leave you again, I’d never make the same mistake twice.” He reaches to wipe your tears gently, minding your injuries.

“You called our relationship a mistake too, Aemond…”

“I was angry at myself for not protecting us, for not filing the divorce papers sooner!” He says, desperation dripping from his words like honey, “I needed to step away, to convince Floris to be done with this marriage. I’ll be yours forever in a few days.”

“You… you’re getting a divorce? You just lost the election and-and you’re… how are you not freaking out, Aemond?”

“Because none of these matter as long as you’re with me. You brighten up my world, sweet girl. My life orbits around your smile and I can’t… I can’t let go of you again.”

“I won’t be your affair anymore, n-not your other woman…”

“No, sweet girl, you’ll be my only woman.”

[miley1442111]

the joys of a workplace relationship- s.reid

----------------------

----------------------

summary: a new addition to the team causes some very strange conversations to be had- and a very embarrassing moment for both spencer, and you.

pairing: spencer reid x fem! marine! reader

warnings: nothing lol

----------------------

You and Spencer hadn’t been dating that long. It had been what? 2 years? About 2 years. You weren’t sure. You knew you hadn’t had your third anniversary yet, that’s for sure. Your relationship was good, you two loved each other, he complained about not seeing you because of deployments, you complained about not seeing him because of cases., but it always usually worked out. Somehow, you’d see each other. And now? You’d see each other everyday, without fail. 

You were joining the BAU. 

----------------------

“We have a new agent coming in,” Aaron announced, and faces were a mix of puzzled, excited, or confused. 

“Are they a woman? We really need some more women on this team,” Penelope sighed. Elle and Jj nodded their heads agreeing as Derek laughed. 

“She is a woman and she’s from the Navy, but special ops-”

“So she’s dangerous,” Elle smirked. “I like her already.”

“Well, it seems I’ve found her,” Jason nodded his head to the window, where all of them crowded to see the new girl. Spencer didn’t bother, too busy thinking about the case, and the fact that he wouldn’t be home tonight even though you’d just come back from a deployment yesterday evening. 

“She’s pretty!” Penelope squealed. “Spencer come look, maybe we can set you up!”

“For the last time Pen, I have a girlfriend-”

“Yeah, one that you never let us meet or see because she’s ‘in the navy’ or ‘busy’,” Elle scoffed, a small chuckle leaving most of their mouths as Spencer rolled his eyes. 

“But she is busy! And in the navy,” he tried, but it was just digging him a deeper hole while the team laughed at him. He stood up and looked at the window and his heart stopped. There you were, go-bag (which Spencer recognised as one of your old navy bags) in hand and a black shirt that showed a lot of the tattoos on your left arm. Spencer felt his mouth water as he watched you walk around with one of the other agents from the floor as he gave you a tour. 

You were here. Standing in his office. 

Were you joining the BAU?

“She is pretty,” he smiled and Penelope hit him on the chest. 

“You have a girlfriend!” She gasped as she started backing Spencer practically into a wall as the team watched on and laughed “You cannot go around calling other women beautiful-” “No Penelope-” “That is just disgusting and gross-” “Penelope-” “Ugh you are such a man! It’s disgusting -”

“Hi,” you smiled, standing at the door. Penelope stopped and turned to you, a big smile on her face. “Hi, I’m Penelope! Nice to meet you,” she held out her hand to be shook and you took it. 

“I’m Y/n,” you explained. “Captain Y/n Y/l/n.”

Heads turned to Spencer, his girlfriend’s name was supposedly Y/n. His girlfriend was supposedly a captain, and became one in only 7 years. The youngest there had ever been. 

“Welcome to the team,” Elle smiled. “Elle Greenaway.”

“Derek Morgan,” Derek smiled, taking your hand to shake. 

“Obviously you’ve met me over the phone,” Aaron muttered.

“Jason Gideon,” Jason smiled, giving you a salute. 

“Jennifer Jareou, but everyone calls me Jj,” she smiled. 

“And that over there, is-”

“Doctor Spencer Reid, I’m well acquainted,” you smiled. 

Spencer was still standing in the corner of the room, a proud smile on his face as the team slowly connected the dots. 

“Wait so she’s real?” Derek practically squealed.

You chuckled as a thousand questions poured in about your relationship, but you just sat and listened to them as Spencer went bright red. 

“Please stop asking such invasive questions guys-” Spencer tried but he was drowned out in a sea of voices. 

“Settle down,” Aaron called. “We have a case. Obviously this isn’t your first profiling case, right Y/n?”

“No, it’s not my first,” you nodded. 

As the briefing went on, you felt Spencer’s hand creep onto your lap. You didn’t mind, you liked having him close, but he was getting a little… work inappropriate. You brushed his hand off and continued the briefing. 

----------------------

“What was your callsign?” Jason asked out of the blue as you all walked onto the plane. 

“Sailfish, sir,” you said, your naval manners bled into your life everyday, including calling people of authority ‘ma’am’ and ‘sir’.

“That’s so cool, why?”

“I was the fastest flyer,” you shrugged, sitting beside Spencer. His arm immediately wrapped around you, and he pulled you into him, kissing the crown of your head as he read his book. 

You and Spencer had been together long enough that you both knew each other's love language. Spencer’s was physical touch whereas yours was quality time and words of affirmation. You didn’t like PDA at the beginning of your relationship, but you'd grown to not mind it when Spencer wanted to be close in public. 

“How was the trip back?” He whispered. You felt all eyes on the both of you and he mustn’t have noticed, or else he would’ve let go. 

“It was fine, Scratch and Patches were fucking fighting the entire way back,” you sighed. Two of your friends, callsigns Scratch and Patches, had just started dating and recent weeks and god were they annoying. 

“They finally go together then?” He asked, engrossed in his book. 

“Not for fucking long,” you mummbled. “How long is the flight?”

“We have about 5 hours, do you want to sleep?”

“Yeah, I might just nap for a while.”

“Alright, I love you, sleep well,”

“Love you too,” you yawned and quickly fell asleep. Soon, all of the team were crowding around you two, questions ready to ask, and Aaron ready to have an awkward conversation. 

“She’s really cool, how in god’s name did you pull her?” Derek asked as Spencer chuckled, running a hand through your hair as you slept. In your sleep, you had a habit of pulling away from Spencer, so Spencer usually kept an arm around you at all times. 

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “We just… got together I guess.”

“Spencer, I don’t mean to be the bearer of bad news but… the PDA stuff should probably be taken down,” Jj said, Aaron behind her with a look of pleading. 

“And there’s paperwork for you both to sign,” he added.

“What do you mean?” Spencer asked, confused. Why would he need to tone it down? 

“There’s rules and regulations against agents being together, Strauss would kill you both of you broke them,” Jj explained. 

“It’s not like I’m always touching her,” he rolled his eyes as the team stared on. 

“Well-” Derek started, but Elle hit him in the shoulder. 

“What?” Spencer asked. 

“You don’t exact;y keep your hands to yourself, is all I’m saying,” he said, then walked off with Elle, Jj, and Gideon behind him.

“Just… tone it down, please?” Aaron added, and Spencer nodded, much more to think about than before. Aaron walked off and back to his seat. 

“Well that was deeply embarrassing,” you whispered from your spot against his chest. 

“Yes, yes it was,” Spencer sighed. “I guess I’ll just… tone it down then.”

“At work,” you added. “But at home you can do whatever you want.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he smiled. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he admitted. 

“I’m glad I’m here too.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, then you pulled your body off of his and sat in your own seat to nap, thus the joys of workplace relationships began.

----------------------

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, marvel, top gun, challengers, the bear, the hunger games, obx+)

[captainfern]

hi hi! i’m sorry you’re day isn’t going well and i hope it gets better soon <333

and since you are taking requests….can you write price fucking his civilian wife on his desk in his office on base please and thank you <333

Love Buzz

Captain John Price x fem!reader

[“Love Buzz” by Nirvana]

[18+]

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• summary - price makes you ride his thigh then bends you over his desk lol. • rating - 18+ • wordcount - 2.6k • warnings - fem!reader, civilian!reader, unprotected piv, thigh-riding, praise, teasing, overstimulation, baby you're getting bent over the deskkkkk, soft dom!price, strong language

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

It wasn't rare that you'd visit your husband at work.

On the slower days, days where he was bound to his office by chains of paperwork, you'd spend time with him. You'd lounge in the couch in the corner of the room, sipping your tea that Gaz had made you, watching Price puff at his second cigar of the day as he worked through mountains of paperwork.

Other times, you'd sit in one of the chairs on the opposite side of the desk, his hat on your head, staring up at the ceiling, listening to Price take numerous phone calls from other military captains across the world.

Some days, you'd even stand behind him as he worked, using your hands and fingers to work the stiffness out of his shoulders. He'd groan and grumble as you worked the knots from his shoulders and back, almost forgetting about the documents he was meant to be signing.

But then, there were times when, for some unknown reason, you were inexplicably horny.

Like today.

You'd been in Price's office for hours, having been on base all day. You were becoming increasingly more restless— hell, you'd cleaned the entire barracks, done Gaz's laundry, sewn up a tear in one of Ghost's balaclava, and given Soap's mohawk a slight trim.

But there was just something keeping you restless.

You were ovulating, by the feel of it, because you were so fucking horny it wasn't even funny. Diagnosed with lack of your husbands dick [LMAO].

So now, the day getting later and later, you wiggled around in the chair in front of your husbands desk. He looked so good. So handsome where he sat doing his work. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing taut, muscular forearms; large hands lined with veins shuffled paper and tapped his pen against the desk; his shirt clinging to his broad chest, the dips of his soft muscles visible through the fabric.

You were salivating.

You groaned. "John."

He spared a glance up at you, raising his eyebrows. "Yeah?"

You pouted at him, shifting in your seat. You sat up straighter, your core beginning to ache. Squeezing your thighs together, you released a short breath.

"Are you almost done?" You asked, sounding more than a little breathless.

Price picked up his simmering cigar from his ashtray, placing it between his lips as his eyes flicked back down to the stack of paper in front of him. He exhaled around the cigar, eyes finding yours again, before he extracted his cigar from his mouth and twisted it between his thumb and index finger.

"Still got a bit to do, sorry, sweetheart," he said softly, taking another inhale from his cigar before placing it back in the ashtray. "Did you want to head home without me?"

You shook your head quickly, groaning again. "No, no."

He furrowed his brows. "Are... you okay, sweetheart?"

You whined, squeezing your thighs together. The smell of his cologne and cigar smoke was driving you insane. His voice, deep and melodic, stirred your insides up until you swore you could feel a heartbeat pulsing in your underwear.

"I'm..." You were embarrassed for some reason, your body warming beneath his soft gaze.

"You're...?" He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. That made his muscles tighten beneath his shirt, his pecs pushed up beneath the fabric.

You chewed on your lip, suppressing an involuntary whine. "John. Don't do that."

Price looked at you, scanning your face with his soft eyes. A small, intrigued smile crept along his face, his lips quirking.

"Do what?" He smiled.

You groaned. "Stop being hot. I'm... Jesus Christ, I'm so horny."

He laughed, eyes crinkling at the edges. He sat up in his chair, shrugging, looking at you without any sympathy as he grabbed his pen again and resumed his work.

"Sorry, sweetheart, I've got to get this done," he said. He didn't sound sorry at all. "You can wait, can't you?"

No.

No, you couldn't.

You whined, rubbing your thighs together, watching your husband work. Your core was throbbing with need, and you'd no doubt be drenched if you had half the mind to put a hand beneath your jeans.

Oh. That's not a bad idea.

With a frustrated sigh, you got up, crossing the office and locking the door. You then returned to your chair, your husband ignoring you. Then, you popped the button of your jeans and unzipped the zipper— the sound making Price snap his eyes up from his paperwork to look at you.

Before you could dip a hand into your jeans:

"Don't." He whispered darkly.

You huffed, frowning at him. "Well if you're not going to do it, John..." You trailed off, sliding your hand into the front of your jeans, your fingertips grazing past the waistband of your underwear.

Price watched you for a split second before making his decision. Before your fingers even brushed past the mound of your pubic bone, Price stopped you with a sigh.

"Come here."

Excitably, you did— hopping out of your chair and hurrying towards him. He shuffled his chair back slightly so you could crawl into his lap, straddling one of his thick thighs. Immediately, the pressure against your core through both his and your denim was much needed. You whined, wrapping your arms around his neck.

You kissed him, and the kiss was slow and gentle. One of his hands rested on the desk behind you, the other settling on your hip. You licked past the seam of his lips, deepening the kiss with a satisfied sigh while his hand gripped your hip tightly.

Then, he began rocking you. He rocked you down against the thick muscle of his thigh, gently at first. You broke the kiss, panting into his mouth as he rubbed you against him. You whimpered softly, and he shushed you, pulling you down rougher and harder against him.

"I need to finish my work," he told you in a whisper. "So while I finish up, you can be a good girl and rub that pretty cunt on my thigh, but m'not gonna give you what you want 'til I'm done."

Your mouth dropped open in confusion as he shuffled the chair a bit closer to his desk so he could grab hold of his pen and resume his paperwork. He still had his left hand on your hip, but you could feel the movement of writing behind you, hearing the pen scratching against the paper.

"John, baby—"

"Get yourself off on my thigh since you're so desperate, sweetheart," Price told you. "Go on."

With a light pout, you began rocking yourself against the solid form of his thigh. Immediately, the throbbing in your core eased, replaced instead by the buzz of pleasure spreading through your lower stomach. The seam of your jeans added friction to your clit as you moved your hips back and forth, gladly— as Price put it— getting yourself off.

You struggled to maintain an appropriate volume, worried that if you moaned too loud that he'd make you stop. So you chewed on your bottom lip to stifle the mewls and whimpers falling across your tongue. You closed your eyes at the feeling, moaning lowly in the back of your throat, sliding your clothed core against him.

Price continued his work, ignoring the soft sounds that dropped from your lips and into his ear. You were warm against his thigh. He could feel how aroused you were, even through your jeans and his. He was going increasingly harder, his cock straining an uncomfortable tent in the front of his jeans.

Your legs were beginning to tremble as you worked yourself against Price's thigh, your clit swollen and puffy within your underwear, your cunt slick and dampening the fabric. Your movements picked up as you clutched at his shoulders, mewling desperately as you hurtled closer and closer to a much awaited climax.

Price was almost done completing the last sheet of paperwork for the evening. He could feel your body growing tighter and tighter against him as he began signing off the report.

"John..." You whispered, voice sultry and dripping with unadulterated pleasure.

He restricted a groan, cock throbbing.

"I want you to come on my thigh, sweetheart. You can do that, can't you?" Price whispered, the movement of your hips speeding up as you chased release.

You moaned loudly, not bothering to stifle your sounds. The pressure in your lower tummy built heavier and heavier until it released, and you moaned again— his name— as you came while riding his thigh. You sobbed out, hole spasming around nothing, slick pooling in your underwear, warm against your slit and making your face heat up. You buried your face in his shoulder, breathing hard.

Your body trembled against Price's as you came down from your high. Price noticed this, and began moving you again. Gripping your hip tight, he began the same movements that he had done all those minutes ago, forcing you to rock your clothed cunt against his thigh. You sobbed out a moan into the crook of his neck as he signed his name on the final document, then cast his pen aside.

Price held both of your hips now, rubbing you against his thigh faster than you had done. You sobbed out again, overstimulation smacking you across the face as he dragged your sensitive slit up and down the solid expanse of his thigh.

"This is what you wanted, eh, sweetheart? Just so needy that you needed to rub yourself on my thigh, eh?" Price mused, dragging you heavier and faster, making your breath stutter and your stomach flip.

"John—" You moaned, teeth grazing the sensitive skin of his neck.

"I want you to come one more time on my thigh like the needy girl you are, then I'll give you what you want."

You felt hot and sticky with sweat. Your heart was beating out of your chest as the buzzing pressure of overstimulation turned into newfound pleasure, and your second orgasm began building in the base of your tummy. You keened, arching your back, your chest flush with his as he pulled and pushed your hips along his leg.

You were thoroughly fucked out and he hadn't even fucked you yet.

Brain muddled, post-orgasmic thoughts fizzling away to make room for another, you muttered out a strained: "Captain."

You knew he was smiling like a fucking idiot.

"Come on, sweetheart, come on your captain's thigh," he whispered in your ear. "Be a good girl for your captain, come on."

Body shaking, you came across his thigh for the second time. You moaned his rank, and it made him groan, as you trembled down from your release. Your underwear was sticky against your core, and you'd be surprised if the seam of your jeans didn't have a wet patch.

Price wasted no time in standing you up, placing your backside on his desk while he got up. He ripped your jeans down your legs, discarding them hurriedly along with your shoes. Then, he spread your legs, and your whole body was warming up as his eyes locked onto your underwear.

"Just look at you," he mused, running a finger up your clothed slit. Your underwear was drenched. You whined as he pressed against your swollen clit through your underwear, before dragging his finger back down. "Soaked. Absolutely soaked."

Gently, he pulled your underwear down your legs, his eyes fixed on your cunt, shining with your two releases. He groaned, eyelids lowering further.

"Such a needy, needy girl for your captain," Price tutted, then he finally looked up to you. "You want me to take care of you, yeah?" He got to his feet, putting his hands on your hips again and leaning in close. "You want me to fill this needy cunt with my cock, do you?"

Two of his fingers eased into your cunt, and you choked on a gasp. He smiled at your facial expression, fucking his fingers in and out of your cunt quick enough that his office filled with lewd, wet squelches.

He chuckled softly under his breath. "Just listen. Poor baby just couldn't wait until we got home. Just so desperate for her husband's cock."

"Captain," you whined pathetically, shifting your hips to meet the movements of his fingers, trying to take him deeper. "Need you... please, fuck. I need you."

He grunted, curling his fingers inside you. "Just... be patient."

You whined loudly, impatiently, clawing at his back, fingernails dragging down the smooth planes of his shoulder muscles. "Please, Captain, please, I need you, I need—"

Price removed his fingers abruptly and pulled you off the desk. You yelped as, with one hand, he turned you around and bent you over the sleek wooden surface. At the same time, with his other hand, he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans, pulling his hard cock out of the confines of his denim.

"You need," he muttered, cock bobbing against his abdomen as he kicked your legs apart and placed a hand to your lower back, making you arch for him. "You're just so needy all the fuckin' time."

You felt the warm head of his cock at your soaked core, and only had enough time to suck in a sharp breath before he was spearing you on it. You moaned loudly as he entered you in one fluid motion, the sound wet and pornographic, his balls slapping heavily against the curve of your arse as he bottomed out.

He groaned through gritted teeth when he pulled out and roughly slammed back into you, setting a pace with his hands holding your hips in place.

You moaned wantonly into the surface of his desk, eyes on the verge of rolling as the tip of his cock slammed into the spot within you that made you sob in pleasure. You had been begging for this, and he was giving it to you.

His fat cock stretched you open repeatedly, notching at the plug of your womb. You were wet and warm and tight around him, pulling grunt after grunt from his chest as his own pleasure built. It never took him long to come when it came to you. Just look at you.

"This what you wanted?" He grunted, fucking his cock deeper into you, hips slapping against your arse. "You wanted your captain's cock, yeah? You wanted it?"

"Yes—!" You moaned.

"Then fucking take it."

You moaned again as his thrusts became rougher, your body rocking against his desk. Your legs trembled violently as your third orgasm built quickly— so quickly that your cunt began squeezing Price's cock, milking him for all he's worth.

He groaned, cursing.

"I can fucking feel you, sweetheart," he groaned. "Come for me. Come round your captain's cock like a good girl... that's it, good fucking girl."

You came for a third time, and you swore you saw stars. You gushed around him, your arousal dribbling down your thighs as he rutted into you, fucking you through your orgasm.

He wasn't far behind, grunting and groaning and slamming into you like his own personal fleshlight.

"Needy fucking girl... my needy fucking girl... yeah, my good girl. M'gonna come... m'gonna..." he wasn't talking to you, but more to himself, before he moaned your name and came deep inside you.

He continued thrusting for a long moment, before he stilled with a shuddering breath, plugging his seed inside you. Then, he was draping himself over your back, kissing along your shoulder over the material of your shirt.

"I love you." He whispered.

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

ended it here cause i'm lazyyyyyyyyyyy

oh and sorry for the lack of work recently

[hysteria-things]

can you do a smut with dom!nate x sturniolo triplets sister where they're at a restaurant with the triplets and nate starts fingering her idc abt anything else but like please im begging you 🙏🙏

FORGIVE ME

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!nate x sls!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: being friends with benefits with your triplet brothers’ best friend isn’t the smartest idea. especially when nate teases you at a restaurant with your siblings there, there’s only one way to forgive him.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, swearing, mentions underage drinking, fingering, public, oral (female/male receiving), p in v

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,277

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: first sturniolo’s little sister fic😯 i find this trope fun LOL

i miss why don’t we they were MY one direction.

hope you like it anon!

a burger sounds so good right now. you think to yourself before being rudely interrupted when a foot taps your shin from under the table. your annoyed eyes are met with chris’. “what are you getting?” he asks.

you shrug, continuing to scan the menu in front of you. “probably a bacon cheeseburger.”

your triplet brothers invited you out to dinner at the finest establishment around: texas roadhouse.

they picked up nathan along the way, who’s sitting silently next to you as the other three are squished in the booth across from you. the four of you are close and know everything about each other, which is the best kind of sibling relationship.

well, they think they know everything about you.

what they don’t — and will never know — is your friends with benefits with nate.

it started randomly at a high school party, where the two of you got drunk and made out which led to you guys fucking in the bathroom. it’s bizarre but true.

turns out, the two of you enjoyed it and this whole thing went on from there. that was months ago, by the way.

while taking a sip of your shirley temple, a hand is placed on your thigh. you look over to the culprit, who is talking casually to your siblings.

his hand teasingly moves up and down, each time getting closer to your waistband. your breath hitches as the waitress comes over. “are you guys ready?” she asks in her customer service voice, smiling as she clicks her pen.

“you go first, y/n.” nate says innocently, taking his fingers and now putting them in your pants to rub hard on your clit. he knows you love getting penetration there.

little shithead.

you clear your throat. “c-can i have a bacon cheeseburger, please?”

the waitress nods, writing on her notepad. “with what side?”

you feel two fingers going inside your wetness, moving at a medium pace. “mmm— fries!” you say loud and quickly. you clear your throat again. “please.”

the three across from you give the same weird look, as if silently saying ‘what the fuck is the matter with you?’

soon, the others put their orders in and go into their conversations. nate keeps pumping his fingers in and out of you, a low whimper leaving your mouth.

when he knows your brothers aren’t listening because they’re arguing about whatever the fuck, he scoots closer to you and leans to your ear. “you’re so wet, baby. is it all for me?”

you grip his wrists, trying to pull him away when you feel your orgasm approaching. it’ll be embarrassing to cum in your pants. “nate—”

“you’re coming back to our house, right?” nick asks, causing nate to pull out his fingers and readjust in his seat.

“yup,” he replies, giving your thigh a tight squeeze.

you storm into your bedroom, nate following closely behind. you shut the door and lock it, putting your hands on your hips and tapping your foot like an angry parent. “are you trying to get us caught? what were you thinking?!”

he chuckles. “cut me some slack, will ya?”

he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close to where your chests touch. you try your best to give him your best mad face, but to him, you look adorable. “i’m sorry.” he fake pouts.

he tugs at your shirt and slowly lifts it over your head, throwing it somewhere on the ground. his lips are mere centimeters from yours. “forgive me?”

“we don’t have time. they’ll get suspicious,” you whisper.

he shakes his head, now taking off his shirt. “they think the texas roadhouse got to the best of me. i’ll be in the bathroom for a while.” he winks, pecking your lips.

you bite your lip, not losing eye contact when you start to unbuckle his jeans. “i don’t think i forgive you.” you say sweetly, getting on your knees and simultaneously pulling his pants down.

“guess i’ll have to see.” you continue, eyeballing his hard-on through his boxer. you start to rub your hand over the fabric, a groan leaving nate’s mouth.

you give the tip a little kiss before pulling down his underwear, his dick aching for attention. you wrap your mouth around him, going as much as you can down his base.

moistening his lips, he throws his head back. he always loved the feeling of your warm mouth around him.

you start to bob your head, the gulping noises intensifying the faster you go. “shit.” nate exhales, taking his finger and lifting your chin so you can look at him.

he starts to thrust his hips to match your bobs, gagging in the process.

he pulls out of your mouth and in the blink of an eye, he flips you so you lay on your back. despite your bed being quite literally a foot away from you guys, he’s now on the ground with you between your legs. “forgive me yet?”

“n—” you don’t finish the word when he starts to dig into you without warning. even better, he takes his thumb and plays with your clit like how he did at the restaurant.

you moan too loudly, covering your mouth with your palm. the last thing you want is for your brothers to hear you. your other hand travels to nate’s head, grasping onto his hair tightly. “i’m close.” you mumble, making him pull away.

“what the hell?” you sigh annoyingly.

“shush.” he says, flipping you over once again to where you are now straddling his lap. “ride me.”

you smirk, kissing on his neck down to his chest. he grows impatient, lifting your hips and playing yourself on his cock. you whine, leaning back up straight and grinding your hips to feel him rub the right way on your walls.

“fuck.” you whimper. he grabs your hips and starts to bounce you, a squeal coming out of you. “nathan, fuck!”

“best be quiet, baby.” he smirks. “don’t want them to hear their little sister on their best friend’s dick.”

you whine lowly, biting your lip to quiet your moans. he sits up and you grab both sides of his neck, looking deep into each other’s eyes. he’s smiling smugly, but your face is contorting with pleasure.

he groans when he twitches inside of you.

“did nate fall asleep on the toilet?” matt’s voice echoes down the hallway, three pairs of footsteps along with it.

“the ribs probably gave him food poisoning or some shit.” chris replies.

nate moves you faster on him, panting lowly in the process. there’s no way he can stop now. he’s way too close.

the doorknob shakes, startling the both of you, but you guys keep going. “what the fuck? why is your door locked?” nick asks.

“fuck y/n, i’m cum—” you swallow his words by giving him an opened-mouthed kiss. you moan softly into his mouth, making sure you cum first before lifting yourself off of him.

he groans into your mouth when his cum makes a mess on his abs. “hello? earth to y/n?”

you pull away, staying in position to quietly catch your breath. “s-sorry, what?” you stammer.

“why is your door locked?” this time, the question is asked by matt.

“changing,” you answer, nate giggling silently.

there’s an awkward silence for a few beats before it's broken. “okay…” nick says in a hesitant manner, and their footsteps eventually recede.

“holy shit.” nate throws his head back to laugh, and you smack him on the chest.

“be quiet,” you mumble, getting off from the floor.

thank god you locked the door, or things could’ve ended terribly.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld

[sukunasteeth]

Idk why but I think that Sukuna's s/o would be like, some kind of freelance or professional artist who'd use him as her reference/live model since he has a good built and whatnot without him knowing lol idk why but I just thought it was a cute idea and I wanted to share bc you're like my most favourite writer here on Tumblr who mains Sukuna and there aren't a lot of them so basically–ily and I hope you day or night is going well!!

–R

This came into my inbox so long ago T.T Please forgive me for taking a minute to get back to you but I wanted to write a little snippet for this one cause ily. Anon you are so sweet!! I'm so honored to receive this little message. Thank you for sharing your cute idea with me T.T I hope you enjoy this one as much as I enjoyed getting this message <3 Thank you for reading

You knew he would tease you.

You knew the moment he happened to see inside your sketchbook was the moment his ego became truly untamable. It was the moment that any ounce of mystery you had left crumbled into the shape of him.

If he knew that you studied anatomy by watching the way his muscles move under the laundry room lamp while he folds up your clothes at night. If he knew that your sketchbook was basically just a love letter written to the way his hands form around yours. Or the way his back muscles glisten with sweat when he comes home from his morning runs. If he knew that you had studied him so deeply that you could map him out down to the freckles that nobody else knows about, you're sure you would hear about it for the rest of eternity.

Which is why this morning, when you happen to wake up before him and see him fast asleep in the perfect position, you can’t help yourself when you grab your notebook and a pen and crawl back into bed with him. 

He was still curled up around your absent figure, his head tucked against the pillow and lowered just right so that his nose would have been pressed into your hair. Your current lesson in anatomy was his back, which you had an ideal view of. The muscles- perfectly symmetrical on either side, tightening and releasing under golden skin that's been kissed darker by the sun. And in the center: the valley of his spine, each notch a favorite place of yours to kiss. 

Every time you draw Sukuna, you fall in love with a different part of him. You admire him until all that’s left of you is nothing but a racing heartbeat. 

Racing especially when you happen to peek up at his face to confirm he was still asleep and you find his lion-like gaze already settled onto you. 

Uh-oh. 

You’re trying to act natural. Immediately folding the cover back over your sketchbook and turning slowly to try and slip off the bed without him noticing. 

Maybe he’s still half asleep. Maybe he didn't register you-

And he's already grabbing onto your ankle before you can even get an inch towards the edge of the mattress.

You don't know why you're not expecting him to ruthlessly drag you back to him, but you squeal when he tugs your knee out from under you and has you face-planting into the sheets. Sukuna doesn't seem to mind your squirming as there is no pause or hesitation in his movement. He barely even seems half awake when he lazily crawls over you and seats himself onto your hips, effectively stopping you from even thinking of an escape route.

"Why are you already running?" He yawns, his eyes slivered in a combination of suspicion and sleepiness. 

You try your best to appear innocent, clutching your sketchbook for dear life. This was the closest Sukuna had ever come to it while you were sketching him and it instantly had a sweat breaking out on the back of your neck. Despite your determination to remain unsuspecting, your voice catches when you reply to him, "I-I'm not running."

And that's all it took. One stutter, one second of hesitation, and Sukuna's eyes are widening in a flash as his pupils hone in on your expression. He always knew your tells, knew instantly when you were trying to lie to him. He took pride in it actually. It’s the reason you’re already half accepting your fate. 

His energy buzzes with excitement as he recognizes apprehension in your gaze. His smile flickering with anticipation.

"Oh?" He murmurs, closing in on your airspace. You can still smell the scent of manzanita wood in his shampoo from his shower last night. "And why are you nervous?" His voice is a silky hum.

"I'm not nervous." You whisper, trying to shrink backwards into the bed, trying not to provoke the bear.

It was too late. He’s been awake all of one minute and he was already going to play with you. 

"You know," Sukuna clears the sleep out of his throat, "This thing has been getting more attention than me lately.” You hold fast when his fingers wrap around your sketchbook and tug gently, as if to prove a point with how tight your grip was on it. “Why is that, I wonder?"

"Nothing gets more attention than you." You mutter, your dry look only worsening when Sukuna's smile grows all too knowing. “I’m just… trying to finish a commission for work.” 

"Do you usually blush when you’re working on a commission?" 

"Oh god,” You groan, “please drop it I beg of you."

“You first.” He challenges, tugging on the book once again. “I’d like to see what’s so important.”

“Sukuna-” You let out a surprised laugh when he wraps his hand around your wrist and starts to pry your arm away. “Waitwaitwait!”

There was no use in trying to win in a game of tug of war with him. Even though he’s just woken up, he’s impossibly stronger than you are. And while he’s usually carefully aware of that fact when handling you, he had no problem mercilessly grabbing your fighting hands into one of his own and pinning them uselessly above you. 

Your pleading falls onto deaf ears. Sukuna grabs onto the book, but before he can open it you manage to say just the right thing. 

“It’s private!” You squeak.

Sukuna pauses, his surprised eyes meeting yours like you had just called out your safe-word.

You know that you had probably just made him twice as curious as he was before about your notebook, but you weren’t ready to face the embarrassment of him finding out what was inside of it yet. It wasn't the time.

He rolls his eyes and before he releases you, his free hand reaches up and he gently flicks your nose. You flinch and he follows up the sting with a chaste but soothing kiss. 

“Cheater.” He mutters in defeat. With nothing left to toy with, he finally crawls off of you and heads towards the bathroom without another glance at your sketchbook. Before he passes the threshold, he leaves you with a request, but you can tell by the tone of his voice and the taunting smile he gives you that it was more like a new rule.

"No working in our bed after business hours, please."

[flowerandblood]

Play with my heart (Epilogue)

[ modern actors • Aemond x Strong • female ]

[ warnings: semi-public sex, smut, angst, fluff, sexual tension, little domination & praise kink ]

[ description: He gets the main role in a series about a great family and dragons, which could change his career. He is set to play the uncle and love interest of his childhood friend. When he meets the actress who plays her role, he begins to lose track of what is an acting and what is his real feelings. Sexual tension, grumpy, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: Yeah. I talked about it and I did it. You don't even know how much fun I had doing this. Of course, my characters play in a series whose script is an exact copy of my story The Fall from the Heavens. In this universe, Aemond (playing the One-Eyed Prince) and Rhaenys (playing the Princess) are of course not related – the other characters are also just actors. This three-part series is my gift to all fans of the original series, thank you so much for your support. "Rhaenys" in this story is her artistic pseudonym which she use instead of her real name. You can read this as a standalone story.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

The first months after the shooting were both wonderful and terrifying for him. Contrary to his grandfather's predictions, he did not stop thinking about her; moreover, he missed her so much that he did not know what to do with himself.

He got used to their daily conversations, the embrace of her warm arms, falling asleep between her soft breasts, watching Disney movies together with her with a big bowl of popcorn.

She brought a breath of fresh air into his life, a smile, lightness and laughter, forcing him to let his inner child that he had always suppressed within him come to the surface.

With her, he was not ashamed to be weak, tired, sad, discouraged. She gave him the comfort of knowing that all his feelings as a human being were natural and desired by her, no matter how ashamed he might be of them.

They tried to see each other every two weekends, taking turns visiting each other. Although he wanted to spend time with her walking around museums and parks, they usually ended up staying in bed all the time off, trying to make up for lost time.

They also saw each other at interviews to promote the series, for which the producers sent the actors in pairs, and unfortunately, although they tried to hide it, a few gestures and glances during them caused both her and him to be flooded with a wave of comments from fans so large that they had to block them from being added to their profiles.

Nooo, they're not a good match. 😫

It's just a promotional trick. They're going to break up after they finish airing the series. 😒

Leave my prince alone!!! 🤬🤬🤬

I'd love to fuck her myself, not gonna lie 👀

It's already clear where the chemistry between them comes from, lol. Pathetic. 🤮

Both of them were very much affected by the nasty comments and criticism, fearing that the production would draw some consequences against them, but it turned out that this made the whole project generate even more interest before the premiere, which pleased them.

However, in between the nasty, bitter remarks, they also received messages filled with good emotions, wishing them luck, saying that they were great to watch, that they complemented each other perfectly in interviews, that it was clear from the trailers that there was genuine affection between them.

They tried to cope with it all by talking for hours on the phone, sometimes crying together from sadness and exhaustion, falling asleep with speakerphone on, waking up in the morning and seeing that they hadn't hung up all night.

He felt he was ready to move on and thought everything through, at the same time wanting to surprise her.

"– how was your audition? –" She asked softly, excitement in her voice.

"– unfortunately, not very successful –" He lied, fiddling with his pen between his fingers, sitting at his desk, having just exchanged emails with the director of her theatre, with whom he had spoken personally a few days before about the terms of his future employment.

"– oh no – I'm very sorry – how are you feeling? –" She asked clearly worried, making him feel remorseful for a moment that she would believe he was suffering.

"– fine – I wasn't feeling that role – I'm lucky that I can be more choosy now – and how are you, little one? –" He hummed, writing back in an email that, as agreed, he would turn up in three days to sign the contract in their town.

His girlfriend grunted, clearly very excited by the news she had to share with him.

"– apparently they've hired a new actor in our theatre, but no one knows who it is – the director is very mysterious –" She said, her voice light and warm, filled with joy.

"– mmm – are you excited to have a new colleague on stage? –" He murmured as he sent the email, closing his laptop with a quiet click.

He heard her laugh at his words.

"– not in the way you suggest –" She said.

"– are you a good girl when I'm not around? –" He hummed, licking his lips involuntarily, feeling the pulsation in his trousers at his words.

"– well –"

"– are you touching yourself? –"

"– I –"

"– answer me – don't lie –"

She was silent for a long moment making him grin, biting his lower lip.

"– so you haven't been a good girl, or am I wrong? –" He sneered and heard her swallow hard.

"– you know what happens to bad girls, don't you? –" He asked, looking at the display of his screen, feeling his heart pounding fast.

"– but –" She finally mumbled out in embarrassment.

"– mmm – I'll see you soon –" He murmured and hung up, knowing that he had left her in complete shock for sure with her panties wet with her moisture.

The third thing he enjoyed most right after fucking her and talking to her was teasing her.

The next day the removal van took his things to the flat he had rented on short notice figuring they would find something together later, and after two days he drove to her town straight to the theatre building.

He went inside through the main entrance and ran quickly upstairs, praying not to meet her on the way, heading for her director's office. The man welcomed him warmly, saying that he was very happy that an actor with such charisma would be performing on his stage.

From the audience it was impossible to see whether his eye was real or fake, and his scar could be covered up with make-up if necessary.

His grandfather was furious, saying that he was giving up a world-class career for second-rate theatre, but he was relieved.

He didn't want to go through again what he was going through now – being torn apart by paparazzi and fans, being in the spotlight all the time.

He was tired of it and decided that, although it was a great adventure, like her he wanted to work in theatre, where artistic sense, monologues and dialogues counted more than nudity and sex.

It was what he wanted for both of them.

The director said it was time to introduce him to the whole crew.

"– I kept it a secret from everyone so that she wouldn't accidentally find out about anything –" The director laughed, a short, grey-haired man with a warm voice and a good-natured face, a visionary and a lover of the classic literature he was staging in his theatre.

"– I can see you with the eyes of my imagination in the roles of Hamlet and Ophelia – you've been wonderfully matched, I have to give you that –" He said softly, and he nodded, thinking in the back of his mind that indeed, this was a fantastic idea.

He felt excited like a little child and thought in the back of his mind that it was because of her, that she had changed him, making him fight for his fulfilment, his comfort, his joy.

"– my dears –" He called out, stepping onto the stage during their rehearsal for The Wedding of Wyspianski, his Rhaenys dressed in Slavic folk costume and a garland on her head turned towards them along with several other people.

Her eyes grew big in disbelief at the sight of him.

"– I would like to introduce you to your new colleague, who from now on will be playing on the stage of our theatre – I am very pleased –"

Everyone looked at her and she just stood there, looking at him and his grin full of satisfaction, breathing loudly through her mouth, her bright eyes hot with affection, disbelief and happiness that apparently shook her body.

Several people laughed as she threw herself into his arms and burst into a loud, panicked sob, whooping and panting with her own tears, his broad hands stroking her hair and back while his lips placed warm, reassuring kisses on her face hot with emotion.

"– shhh – it's okay, little one –"

She looked at him in disbelief, gushing with energy and joy as she introduced everyone to him one by one. He was relieved by the warm welcome given to him by the other actors, some of whom could have been his parents or even grandparents.

They seemed very close to each other and addressed each other warmly.

He was allowed to stay in rehearsal to see how they worked, so he watched as his girlfriend played a young bride, a village girl marrying a nobleman, during whose wedding many unexplained, mysterious events occur.

He smiled the whole time, watching her, satisfied that apart from one brief kiss there was no intimacy on stage between her and her partner, exactly as she had described it to him in their telephone conversations.

When it was all over she ran up to him in her folk costume, all hot, breathing loudly through her mouth, field flowers entwined together on her head.

"– what do you think?! –" She asked, and he hummed under his breath.

"– I really like your staging – I need to read this drama – you look amazing –" He hummed. He smiled under his breath as she sat on his lap – the seats in the audience were sunk in darkness so the people on stage couldn't see very well what they were doing.

"– I can't believe it – you've been lying all this time –" She muttered simultaneously embittered and delighted. He shook his head at her words.

"– I told you I had an audition – I just didn't say where –" He stated.

"– you said you did badly –" She said, wrinkling her eyebrows – she squealed as he caught her around the waist and pulled her closer, making her feel the hard bulge in his trousers.

"– that was my subjective assessment which was clearly not shared by your director –" He grinned, looking at her with his lips slightly parted. They both sighed as her hips rubbed against his pulsing erection, her gaze hot and misty.

"– my little girl can't stand it? – shall I take you to the toilet? –" He sneered and she swallowed hard, red with embarrassment and nodded.

Nothing more than panting and moans left their throats as they locked themselves in one of the cabins, their mouths immediately clinging to each other in greedy, loud, messy, sticky kisses. Their saliva clicked each time their lips pulled away from each other, his hands pulled up the material of her skirt and petticoat, pulling her panties off her thighs.

"– turn your back to me –" He commanded, and she did so without a word of objection, in a natural reflex leaning over and bucking her buttocks towards him, knowing what he wanted to do. His hands exposed her bare hips to him and what was between them, her opening glistening from her wetness, pink and swollen.

He hit her womanhood with a sharp, short slap and she jumped up with a quiet squeal and whimpered.

"– quiet – I warned you – I said: no touching – didn't I? –" He asked, gently rubbing and massaging the little spot that pulsed all over and leaked from his stroke, teasing the puffy bud between her plushy folds.

"– 'm sorry – I tried –" She confessed with embarrassment, panting heavily, rolling her hips to the rhythm of the strokes of his hand, trying to find a better source of squeeze.

"– the deal was different –" He said coolly, parting and rubbing her throbbing, dripping wet slit, her cheek pressed against the wall all red with pleasure, her lips parted in a helpless moan.

"– it's all mine – the sight of your fulfilment, your moisture, your little cunt is meant for my eyes –" He continued, as if he was explaining to her some essential, eternal principle, something obvious and logical that she could not change. She trembled as two of his fingers slipped between her slick, throbbing walls, stretching her core.

"– yes – I'm sorry – I missed you so much –" She mumbled, rocking her hips to the rhythm of the thrusts of his fingers, which teased and pressed the spongy bud between her fleshy folds deep inside her, from which a trickle of her moisture ran down her thigh.

"– mmm – I know, baby – I missed you too –" He confessed, recognising that although he wanted to, he couldn't last much longer. This sight and the euphoria that gripped his body made him let go of her as his hands slid down to the belt of his trousers, undoing it – her eyes opened in hope, her breath accelerated and uneven.

"– please –" She muttered.

"– shhh –" He hushed her, grabbing her by the waist, the other releasing his throbbing, fat erection, the tip of which he guided to her leaking, swollen slit.

"– thaat's it – there you go – fuck –" He exhaled, slowly forcing his way between her hot, fleshy walls, clenching greedily around his cock, sucking it inside her.

"– yes – yes, God, please, yes –" She mewled, immediately beginning to roll her hips to the rhythm of his impatient, fierce thrusts, fitting his pulsing erection inside her again and again, though they tried to restrain themselves, their panting and moans echoed around the restroom.

"– Rhaenys –" He muttered, sinking his face into her fragrant, hot neck, her scent wonderfully familiar, her insides moist and warm, welcoming him with ease. He thought about it, thrusting into her with slick, sharp stabs – how deep he was in her body, how much they united in this chaotic, viscous act of desire.

"– Aemond – o-oh, fuck, fuck, oh, God –" She cried out as he imposed a fast, aggressive pace on her, pounding into her with the deep, sharp pushes of his hips, opening her wide with his manhood throbbing painfully with longing.

"– shhh – shhh, little one – just a little more – yes, that's my girl –" He praised her, panting heavily as he felt her reach the edge, her breath heavy and loud.

Nothing more than moans and grunts left her lips, her little cunt gave him a few more thirsty, steady squeezes before she shuddered with sweet fulfilment, her wetness running down his thighs as with the last, loud slaps he reached his peak inside her with a sigh of delight.

Since she was taking the pills, he could fuck her whenever and wherever he wanted.

"– fuck –" He breathed out, embracing her tightly from behind, while still rocking his hips inside her and hugging her like a little, longing child.

He wished she would say that they were going to watch some new cartoon or comedy in the evening, that they were going to lie in their sweatpants, spread out comfortably on her bed, cuddled up, eating popcorn, kissing and caressing each other.

"– m-maybe – maybe let's go to my place – we'll watch something and relax – I can cook you something, but we need to do some shopping –" She whispered, stroking his arm, and he purred, delighted by her words.

"– yes �� yes, that's what I need –"

[its-avalon-08]

Helloo! Can I pls request Carlos x Y/N who is a golf course bev cart girl? I love watching day in the life videos of bev cart girls on tiktok LOL and I think it'd be really interesting since Carlos loves golf! Thankuuu💘

gold clubs and nike shoes (cs55)

✦ pairing - carlos sainz x female!reader

✦ genre - fluff, a little angst, hate, comfort

how they met :

The sun was just beginning to rise over the lush green fairways of the exclusive golf club. Y/N was finishing her morning routine, making sure the beverage cart was stocked with cold drinks, snacks, and anything else the golfers might need. She loved her job, especially the quiet moments in the early morning before the course got busy.

Today felt like any other day, but little did she know, it was going to be a day she'd never forget.

As she drove the cart down the path towards the first hole, she noticed a group of golfers teeing off. Among them, one man caught her eye. He was tall, with dark hair and a confident stance. It took a moment before she recognized him.

"Is that… Carlos Sainz?" she murmured to herself, her heart skipping a beat.

Carlos had a break between races and decided to indulge in one of his favorite pastimes, golf. He was here with a few friends, hoping for a relaxing day on the course.

As Y/N approached the group, she put on her best professional smile. "Good morning, gentlemen! Can I offer you anything to drink or a snack to start your round?"

Carlos turned and his eyes met hers. For a moment, he seemed taken aback, then he smiled warmly. Her smile and wavy hair had him awe-struck. "Good morning! I'll have a water, please."

"Sure thing," she said, handing him a bottle of water. "Anything else for you guys?"

The rest of the group placed their orders, and as she handed out the drinks, Carlos couldn't help but strike up a conversation. "Do you work here every day?"

"Most days," she replied, glancing up at him. "It's a great job, especially on beautiful days like this. You must be Carlos Sainz, right?"

He chuckled. "Guilty as charged. You follow Formula 1?"

"I do, actually. I think it's amazing what you guys do. The speed, the skill… it’s incredible."

Carlos grinned. "Well, thank you. It's always nice to meet a fan. What’s your name?"

"Y/N," she said, smiling back. "Nice to meet you, Carlos."

As the day went on, Y/N found herself crossing paths with Carlos and his friends multiple times. Each time, they exchanged a few words, gradually getting to know each other better. By the time they reached the back nine, Carlos was deliberately timing his stops to coincide with her rounds.

At the fourteenth hole, Carlos finally decided to take a chance. As Y/N handed him another bottle of water, he asked, "So, Y/N, what do you do when you're not brightening up the golf course?"

She laughed. "Well, I’m studying part-time and I love traveling whenever I get the chance. How about you? When you’re not racing, that is."

"Golf, obviously," he said with a wink. "And I love traveling too. Maybe we could share some travel stories over coffee sometime?"

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up. "I’d like that."

The round eventually came to an end, and Carlos knew he had to make his move before it was too late. As Y/N was getting ready to drive back to the clubhouse, he walked over.

"Y/N," he began, a bit more serious now, "I really enjoyed talking to you today. I'd love to see you again, off the course. What do you say we grab that coffee?"

Her smile widened. "I'd love that, Carlos. Here," she said, pulling out a small notepad and pen from the cart, "let me give you my number."

He took the note, his smile growing even bigger. "Perfect. I’ll call you soon."

As he walked back to his friends, Y/N couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement. What started as a typical day on the golf course turned into something extraordinary. And for Carlos, a simple round of golf had led to meeting someone truly special.

the first i love you :

The evening had been tense. Carlos and Y/N returned to her apartment after a long day on the golf course. Y/N had dealt with an inappropriate customer at work, leaving her shaken and upset. Carlos was furious, but he tried to keep his anger in check.

As they entered the apartment, Carlos slammed the door behind him. Y/N stood near the kitchen counter, trying to compose herself. Carlos paced the room, his frustration evident.

“I can’t believe that guy today,” Carlos said, his voice tight with anger. “What an absolute jerk!”

Y/N sighed, trying to stay calm. “It’s part of the job, Carlos. I deal with stuff like that sometimes. It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not fine!” Carlos exclaimed. “You shouldn’t have to put up with that crap. I hate seeing you go through that.”

Y/N shook her head. “It’s my job, Carlos. I’m fine. It’s not the end of the world.”

Carlos stopped pacing and turned to face her, his expression serious. “You know what? You don’t have to keep working there. I have more than enough to support us. I want you to quit that job and focus on what makes you happy.”

Y/N was taken aback. “I appreciate that, but I like working. I want to be independent. It’s important to me.”

Carlos’s frustration reached its peak. “Y/N, this isn’t just about the job. I care about you more than anything. I love you, and it’s killing me to see you hurt. I need you to understand that!”

Y/N’s eyes widened in shock. The words hung in the air between them, raw and unfiltered. She was speechless for a moment, her heart racing as she processed his confession.

“Carlos…” she managed to say.

Carlos moved closer, his voice softening but still filled with intensity. “I love you, Y/N. I don’t want you to face that kind of disrespect. You deserve so much more than that. And if it means you don’t work there anymore, then so be it. I just want you safe and happy.”

Y/N felt a wave of emotions crashing over her. She stepped towards him, her voice trembling with emotion. “Carlos, I… I don’t know what to say. I didn’t expect this. I love you too.”

Without another word, Y/N reached up and kissed him, her lips pressing against his with a mix of passion and relief. Carlos responded, pulling her into a tight embrace. The kiss was full of unspoken feelings and raw sincerity.

When they finally broke apart, Y/N looked into his eyes, her gaze steady but firm. “I want to be independent. I want to work and make my own way. It’s important to me, even if it means dealing with tough situations. But I want you to know that I love you too, and your support means everything.”

Carlos’s shoulders relaxed a little, and he took a deep breath. “I understand. I just want you to be safe and happy. And I’ll always be here to support you, no matter what.”

Y/N nodded, her eyes glistening with tears of gratitude and love. “Thank you, Carlos. I know we can get through anything together.”

They held each other close, both finding comfort in their mutual declarations of love. The argument and the pain were overshadowed by the deep connection they shared, making their bond even stronger.

In the midst of their emotional turmoil, Carlos and Y/N’s love was reaffirmed, showing that true understanding and support could overcome any challenge.

standing up to hate :

Carlos had been scrolling through his phone, his mood darkening as he saw the comments and posts about his relationship with Y/N. It had been a few months since they’d started dating, and while they’d shared many happy moments, not everyone was supportive. The negativity was starting to weigh on Y/N, even though she kept a brave face.

Carlos was in the paddock at the latest race, talking with some of the other drivers. He glanced over at Y/N, who was chatting with a few friends. She seemed a bit off today, and Carlos could tell that the recent online backlash was affecting her. He had to do something. He was not going to let deranged fans make the woman he loved unhappy.

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carlossainz55 Hey everyone, I usually keep my personal life private, but today I need to address something important. Recently, there have been some comments and messages about my relationship with Y/N. I want to make it clear that Y/N is an incredible person and she means the world to me. I’m so grateful to have her in my life, and the negative comments really hurt her and myself. She is an incredible person inside and out and if you think otherwise you do not know her well enough. You are NOT A FAN if you continue to hate on my loved ones. The hateful comments from the ones who hide behind the screen are cowardly and hurtful. I’m sharing this because I want to stand up for her and show my love and support towards the woman I have the honor of calling mine. We’ve been through a lot together, and I am proud to call myself her boyfriend. Thank you to those who have supported us, and to those who haven’t, I hope you can understand that love is something we should celebrate, not criticize. and grow up or get off the internet. I love mi amor💛

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yourusername i love you my love! i can't believe you just did this

carlossains55 anything for you amor

LandoNorris Carlos, you’re a legend for this. 💪🏽 Love you both!

DanielRicciardo: Absolutely right, mate. Y/N’s awesome, and anyone who says otherwise doesn’t know what they’re talking about. Cheers to both of you!

OscarPiastri: Carlos, you’re a class act. Sending love to you and Y/N. 🌟

CharlesLeclerc: Proud of you for standing up for Y/N. She’s lucky to have you, and so are you to have her. ❤️

MaxVerstappen33: Proud of you carlitos! Y/N we love you <3

[katsu28]

hi kait!! finally found my way into your inbox, i feel like it’s been a tiiiny bit overdue 😭

i’d love to request writing little notes on post-its and leaving them in random pages of their textbook, so that they will get a little endorphin boost when studying with oscar if that’s okay! (or max, if you wanna give a hand at writing for him)

liyah!!! you're right on time babe, thank you so much for this request! i had so much fun writing this and i'm hoping i did max justice <3

max verstappen x reader, 2k, a dash of google translated dutch lol. request something from here!

“Fuck!” 

Your forehead thunks down against your open textbook for what feels like the millionth time. You feel like you’ve been staring at the same page for hours, yet you still can’t seem to make any sense of what you’re looking at, and it makes you want to scream. 

Now don’t get it wrong, you love learning and you’re fortunate enough to be pursuing an advanced education, but it’s at times like these you wonder if it’s all worth it. There’s so much information to take in and not enough hours in the day to remember it all, and you’re running out of time before you have to take this godforsaken exam that could prevent you from moving to the next level of courses. 

No pressure, or anything, of course. 

“Careful, mijn liefje, you're too smart to be banging your head on the table like that.” Max’s voice rings out from behind you, and you’re too tired to even jump. You hadn’t even heard him let himself into your apartment, let alone sneak up on you. He leans down to press a kiss to the crown of your head. 

“I don’t feel smart,” You huff, feeling his hands smooth along your shoulders. “I feel like an idiot.” 

“You’re not an idiot.” He replies, very as-a-matter-of-factly. His thumbs press into the knots at the base of your neck like he knows exactly where they are, rubbing slow circles. You don't see it, but he scans your surroundings with a furrowed brow as he massages your stiff muscles. 

The table around you is littered with things—crumpled papers, empty Red Bull cans, an entire stationery store’s worth of pens and highlighters, and most worryingly, your still completely full water bottle. If that sight is any indication, he can safely assume you probably haven’t left your place in this chair for a while. 

“I don’t want you to take this the wrong way because I mean it from a place of love, but when was the last time you got some sleep?” 

“What? I dunno, like yesterday—wait, what day is it today?” 

Max presses his lips into a thin line. He’s never been one to worry too much about your studies, because you’re fully capable of keeping things in order yourself, but it might be starting to get out of hand. Now feels like a good time to step in and take matters into his own hands. “If you have to think that hard about it, it’s been too long.” 

Finally you look up at him, and boy is he right. You look utterly exhausted, even as you vehemently shake your head side to side. “I’m not tired, Max. I need to study.” 

“You’ve been studying for ages. What you need is rest.” 

“I can’t. I don’t have time for rest, I need to be ready for my exam,” You argue, already turning back to your textbook. Max crouches down next to you, blanketing your knee with a large, warm palm. His other hand eases the pen out of your grasp, fingers lacing with yours instead. 

“Please take a break, schatje. If not for yourself, do it for me.” 

One look at those pretty, pleading blue eyes of his and you cave, nodding defeatedly. “Maybe a little nap couldn't hurt.” 

Max nods enthusiastically, gently pulling you out of your seat and towards the hallway leading to your bedroom before you have a chance to reconsider. You’re leaning heavily against him, basically already half asleep as he guides you down onto the soft mattress as easily as he can. 

“Wake me up in twenty minutes, please,” You mumble, giving a sluggish tug at his hand. 

“Of course.” 

He won’t, but you don’t need to know that. Max will gladly take any consequences if it means you get at least an hour of rest, hopefully more. Your health and wellbeing is the most important thing to him. 

Your eyes flutter shut on their own accord mere seconds later, soft snores emitting from your mouth even before Max pulls the covers up to your chin.

“Not tired, my ass,” He chuckles under his breath, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before exiting the room as quietly as he can. 

While you get some much needed sleep, Max organizes your study space a little, tossing away the cans and wrappers, plugging in your computer to charge, then moves onto the kitchen and cleans up in there too. 

The living room area is next on his checklist; blankets get folded and put back in their rightful spots, and windows get opened because he won’t lie, the air smells a little stale in here. He figures a complete reset and a neat area might help ease your mind when you wake up. 

As he surveys his tidy job, his eyes land on your open textbook, then the massive stack of multicolored post-it notes next to it. He might not be able to help with the studying part, but there is something he can do about keeping your spirits up while you work on the former. 

He settles himself into your chair, hunching over at the desk as he scribbles notes to you. Encouragements, affirmations about how bright you are and how proud he is of you, dumb jokes to hopefully make you laugh, even his best shot at the little cute doodles you draw for him on the whiteboard of his driver’s room whenever you’re in there waiting for him. Obviously, they’re nowhere near as good—Max has never claimed to be much of an artist—but hopefully they’re enough to give you a little mood boost during your study sessions. 

Being careful to mark your spot, he scatters the sticky notes randomly throughout the crisp pages. 

You rouse from your sleep hours later, barely able to get a word out before Max ushers you to the bathroom to relax in the hot bath he’s drawn for you. Despite your protests, you sink into the nearly scalding water (which is just the way you like it) with an appreciative sigh.

Only once you’re fresh and clean and thoroughly pampered by your boyfriend does he let you come back to where you were when he first found you earlier today. But it looks different. It’s not a mess anymore. Upon glancing around the rest of the place, you can tell that he’s done quite a bit whilst you were passed out. 

“Did you…clean my apartment while I was asleep?” You ask in bewilderment, taking in the neatly organized space with wide eyes. It even smells fresh, lemony and bright and not at all like the despair of an overworked twenty something year old student during exam season. 

“Yep.” Max says simply, popping the ‘p’. 

“Why?” You’re not mad in any way, shape or form, just simply stunned. It’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for you and Max just shrugs like it’s no big deal. His nonchalance still takes you aback sometimes. 

“Thought it might help. Anyways, you get one hour to study, then you’re taking a break even if I have to drag you away from that book myself,” He warns, pinning you to the spot with a stern glare. “I’ll be in the other room, but I have a timer on, so don’t even try to pull one over on me. One hour. Call out if you need anything.” 

He kisses you firmly on the side of your head and then he’s gone, leaving you alone to hit the books once more. 

Slumping into the chair with a groan, you shake your head not unlike a dog would, flipping open your book again to where you’d left off. Your head feels a little clearer now, a little less foggy now thanks to Max’s efforts, and you’re hoping it’ll make a difference. 

Your gaze is immediately drawn to a bright green sticky note a few pages later, off in the side margins. It isn’t one of your notes though, but rather Max’s tiny handwriting, an odd mixture of lower and uppercase letters spelling out a message. 

You’re doing an amazing job. Keep pushing!

Before you know it, you’ve flipped through the entire book in your search of more notes from Max, your grin only growing bigger and bigger with each one you find. 

Why don’t dinosaurs talk? Because they’re dead. 

I’m proud of you for making it this far. You’re so smart. 

What are Sassy and Jimmy’s favorite day of the week? Cat-urday. 

If you find this one, we’ll go to Bora Bora during summer break. 

That last one is tucked in the back cover, signed and dated by him. You plan to keep it as undeniable proof when the time comes, though you suspect he won’t try to deny it. He’d be happy to whisk you off to any place you wanted if you asked. 

Every single one of his notes makes you grin like an idiot, but his attempts at drawing his cats are your favorite ones of all. It takes you a few moments to understand what exactly you’re looking at, but when you squint at what could be the outline of Sassy’s ears, it makes you actually laugh out loud. 

Warmth spreads from your head to the tips of your toes at the thought of Max taking the time to do all this for you, even though he really didn’t have to. When you think about it, he’s always been this way—showing that he cares through his actions. Taking care of his loved ones without having to say a word. It’s one of the many things you love about him.

Like always, Max is true to his word. One hour later on the dot, he marches back in with gusto. 

“Alright, break time! Let’s go get some food. Lando keeps waffling on about some Greek place that’s apparently super popular and the best he’s ever had, if you don’t mind—” He stops mid sentence and mid stride at the sight of you staring back at him. You’re not smiling, but you also don’t look angry. It’s actually a little unsettling, really. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” 

You barrel into Max with enough force to make him stumble backwards a few steps, wrapping your arms around his neck in a tight hug. He lets out a soft noise of surprise at having to catch you all of a sudden, one that is quickly stifled because your lips are on his now, and you’re kissing him the same way you do when he comes home after a triple header and you haven’t seen him in weeks. 

The kiss is short, but teeming with emotion. Love, appreciation, gratitude—you kiss Max with everything you’ve got, and when you pull away he looks pleasantly confused. 

“What was that for, schatje?” He chuckles, smoothing a hand up and down your back. You can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Everything.” You mumble, pressing your face into the softness of his jumper. Another laugh rumbles through him, fonder this time. 

“Everything.” He repeats. You nod against his chest, and he knows what you’re trying to say, even if you’re not saying it. He sighs contentedly, nestling his chin over the top of your head. 

You’d stay like this forever if you could, if neither of you had things to do and places to be. Just you and your Max, who knows you so well you don’t even have to tell him what you need. And what you need right now is food. 

Max rocks you side to side, voice light as he ponders the options, because he just knows what you’re thinking already. “If we hurry, we could probably still get a table before the Greek place closes. Or maybe not, but I’ll pay them extra to stay open for us.” 

“I like the way you think, Maxie.” You beam, kissing him again. A little too quickly for his liking, but he doesn’t mind. As long as you’re happy, he’s happy.

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new fics :)

[roseglazedlens]

Okay let's forget about all the agents Kennedy, alcohol and trauma in RC, Ada...ect,and turn to Leon s Kennedy as Your husband's policeman 36years is receiving a promotion to Chief Police Officer cuz I can't see my bbguy suffer more :(,you can add some nsfw if you want to

thank you for requesting lovely! i'm sorry i write so much angst hahhaha, but here is a change of pace! i've never written anything purely fluff (lol) and so many characters, so this is a challenge! i hope you enjoy!

⦑ take me home ⦒✶.*

pairing(s): leon kennedy x gn! reader synopsis: you throw a surprise party for your boyfriend's last day at work after his job promotion. content: pure fluff, established relationship, flirting, alcohol, leon is tipsy, but he's cute & not depressed ab it. claire, rebecca, jill & chris works in RPD. « 1 k words┇masterlist┇ao3┇reblogs appreciated! »

Today is an unusual sight for the usually hectic police department in Raccoon City. The office is adorned with balloons, garlands, and laughter, celebrating not just the promotion of a well-loved officer, Leon S. Kennedy, but also his farewell as he relocates to a new precinct.

You should be happy for your boyfriend – and you are – but part of you will miss watching over his figure from your desk, casting flirtatious grins back and forth in attempts to distract each other from the rigorous paperwork.

A banner suspends between the light fixtures, observing the lopsided words ‘CONGRATULATIONS’, strings twisted into the knot. The culprit of this handiwork, Chris, puffs out his chest proudly, while Rebecca looks at him in disbelief.

“Chris, leave the decorations to Rebecca, please.” You break apart the squabble forming between them. Rebecca smirks as Chris descends the ladder, defeated. “Don’t forget everyone, this is supposed to be a surprise.”

“Claire, where is the card?” You interrogate the next person in your line of sight, who happens to be Claire. All whilst you signal Rebecca to tilt the banner slightly upwards. “Has everyone signed?”

“Yep. It’s just you left.” She hands over the card, before resuming to the case files on her computer.

The card scrawls with heartfelt blessings from your team, a lot of ‘good lucks’, ‘we’ll miss you’, and nostalgia when he was just a rookie. He worked hard for ten years to be a sergeant, and you know he deserves this.

You pick up your pen – contemplating the words to express how amazing he is, how you will love him forever, how you will miss the sneaky make-out sessions in the work janitor’s closet.

…Marvin will be so proud of you. Yours, ....

The vibration in your pocket cuts you off mid-sentence – Jill. She is supposed to be on the case with Leon for another thirty minutes. You read the text out loud.

“I can't hold him back much longer, we're on our way. ETA in five minutes!!”

The floor scrambles in panic to finalise their positions. Rebecca quickly secures the banner with some tape. Claire is passing party poppers. Chris is putting away the ladder to the storeroom.

As Jill enters the space with Leon following behind, all the confetti releases at once.

The rainbow plastic ribbons catching in his hair like stardust in sand. You catch a glimpse of surprise in his reaction, following with a light on the corner of his lips.

“To Leon!” your team lifts their glasses high in the air, sipping beers and cocktails all night. Leon is the star tonight – you can barely talk to him without two other people buying him drinks all night along.

You catch him a whole two hours later in the circle booth, after some of the crowd has dispersed, his cheeks redden from the many drinks consumed all in a few hours. You squeeze yourself through three different people to sit yourself next to Leon.

“Having fun?” You try to get his attention by nudging at his forearm. “Don’t get too drunk though, I have to take you home.”

Leon lifts his gaze, when he sees you right by him, a grin tug at his face almost immediately. His cerulean eyes somehow more glazy than usual.

“Thank you for doing all of this. You are so good for me.” Despite the scent of beer merging with his breath, the grin on his face remains childlike. One that you only see in his drunkenness, which he lets down his guard to show more of his emotional side.

“Everyone helped. Not just me.” You are thinking how cute Leon looks when he’s drunk. “You are well-loved in here. I’m just the facilitator.”

“How about you work for me?” Leon brings the back of your palm to his lips. “I can pull some strings, now that I’m sergeant.”

“Sergeant Kennedy, using your influence for personal goals? It’s not even your first day.” You quip with a slight chuckle.

“And what if I am?” He peppers kisses from your palm to your fingers, the faint heat from his lips sizzle through your nerves. “Sure you’ll enjoy less time on the field, and more time in my office.”

“Well, if that’s the case.” You decide to let this banter go on a little further. “I expect to be well-compensated for my extra duties.”

“That will depend on your performance.” He raises a sassy eyebrow, pulling you closer until your noses touch.

“Good thing I always hit my KPI’s.”

“I do like a hardworking employee…”

Eyes fluttering shut slowly, you smile into the kiss. His lips lay gently on yours, sucking slightly at your cupid’s bow. Your bodies move closer, so close that you rests your hand on Leon’s thigh for support. The kiss deepens further, sloppier, tongues intertwined until…

“Ahem.” Chris clears his throat loudly, snapping you back to the present.

You open your eyes to find the whole table staring at the two of you. Your gaze finds its way to Jill, which she immediately, most awkwardly, rolls her eyes to the ceiling as if there is something to see there. Claire is nonchalant, sipping her beer and simply enjoying the scene.

You retract the tongue that is still shoved in Leon’s mouth. A hint of pink is running up your cheeks, you don’t need to see it to feel it. Leon, however, is unphased by the attention from his coworkers. Perhaps it’s the alcohol, perhaps it’s knowing that he won’t be seeing these guys next Monday.

“So… next rounds on me. Who’s in?” Chris attempts to diffuse the awkwardness, which earns a few curt nods from the table.

Leon holds you by the hand, picking you up from the seat. “Sorry Chris, we’re gonna call it. It’s been a long night. Thanks for the party, everyone.”

You two shuffle past Chris and Jill out of the booth, after a round of hugs with everyone, you can practically feel Leon sprinting out the bar.

“How ‘bout we continue where we left off at my place?”

Your cheeks turn a deeper red. It seems like he will be the one to take you home tonight instead.

thanks for reading! come check out my other works. ––yours truly, rose. tags: @carlosgf @sporeghost (pm me for tags) © roseglazedlens - please do not repost, plagiarise, or feed to ai.

[deltaromeo3]

𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚗𝚍 ⋆ Lando Norris

pairing: Lando Norris x mediaofficer!reader

warning(s): a lil angst if u squint hard enough, swearing, fluff IF YOU SQUINT. this is a looong one.

as requested by: this ask!

A/N: as always, feedback (good or bad) is appreciated! my first Lando fic lol I hope you enjoyed it! <3

“I love you doesn’t begin to express what I feel for you.”

It was a typical Monday morning; you were carrying a cup of coffee in one hand and a bunch of folders in another. You were at the MTC, on the way to the conference room for a pre-season meeting.

This year you would find out which driver you’d be working with. Oscar or Lando? You didn’t mind either one.

As you entered the elevator, pressing the ‘close door’ button, someone shouts.

“Hold the door, please!”

You quickly pressed the ‘hold door’ button, letting the gentleman in.

“Thank you,” He says, slightly out of breathe from running.

“No worries,”

A silence fell between the two of you. Well of course, he’s none other than Lando Norris, the beloved McLaren driver. There was a huge difference between the two of you, first of all you were in different tax brackets and secondly he was a Formula 1 driver. And you were.. you.

You exit the lift after him. You noticed he turned left as well, and was walking in the same direction you were going towards.

“You’re going to the conference room as well?”

He hums in response. “Pre-season meeting. You joining?”

You nod and he holds the door open for you, letting you in first.

You were greeted by a few other workers from the PR team. No Zak in sight, guessing he was busy with other team related stuff.

You sat down and he sits across you. The meeting begins soon after Oscar enters the room.

“Lando, this year you’ll be under the care of Y/N L/N, so please, be nice yeah?”

He nods. “I’m always nice what do you mean?”

You extend your hand and he shakes it.

“Well I’m.. Lando. You know.”

You smile, “And i’m Y/N. Hoping to a good season with you.”

“You’ve got a nice name,”

“Well thank you, Lando.”

And that was months ago.

You realised you grew closer to Lando, too close in fact. He followed you on Instagram (no idea why. He said why not), you would exchange texts almost every day (and night), and would often gossip with each other. It was nice, but it was unexpected. You often questioned why.

It all started when one time, during lunch, he took a seat across you. You found it weird, he would always be seated with Oscar or Max. This action of course earned funny looks from them, but Lando didn’t seem to mind.

“Whatcha doin’ here? Aren’t you always with Oscar or Max?” You asked as you ate your food.

“Just felt like a change of scenery today. You mind if I sat here?”

You shook your head.

“Great,” he says as he stands up to get his food.

And from then on, with every single media duty you had, the both of you just grew closer. You would often come to the track together. While others found it suspicious, some found it cute. They just figured it was just the two of you getting along well.

Given a choice, Lando would always choose you to bring him for his media duties. Anytime you were gone, he would ask for you. You were fairly new to this whole F1 thing too so in a way he was teaching you the ropes as well.

And he was more than happy to do so. He would tell you where the media pen was if you got lost, he even made your job easier by trying not say anything that wasn’t meant to be heard on live TV. All in all, he was very well trained and your job was smooth sailing (mostly.)

Another instance was when you were down with Covid during Baku. You had to take a week off from work meaning you werent in charge of Lando and his media duties were all in the hands of someone else. Poor Ava.

You were trying to sleep, it was in the wee hours of 3am.

Suddenly your phone rings.

“Lando i’m not-“

“Where are you?” He asks, ignoring your question.

“Home.”

“Like, in London?”

You nod in response.

“Why aren’t you here? Why is Ava in charge of my media duties and not you?”

“I’m sick, Lan. Covid.”

The nickname just rolls off your tongue like butter on toast. You had no idea why you said Lan instead of Lando but he didn’t seem to mind.

“WHAT!” He shouts over the phone. You wince at the sudden loudness.

“But you’ll be back soon right?” He asks, concern in his voice.

“Of course. Why? Miss me?” You teased.

“Mhm.”

“Mhm? What’s mhm?”

“Just.. just be back soon kay? And sorry for calling you at this timing. It’s like what- 3 in the morning there? Anyways, rest well. Take care of yourself.” He says in a caring tone.

You smile, blushing a little bit. But thank God your room was dark so he couldn’t really see the smile that was forming on your face.

“Thank you Lan. I’ll see you in a week.”

“A week?!” He groans. “Okay okay… see you then.”

“Bye,”

“Bye.”

The line clicks.

Next morning, you woke up to a delivery on your front door.

It was a hamper; filled with goodies, chicken essence and a few cans of chicken/mushroom soup.

You picked it up, placing it on the table. You read the card that came along with it.

“Missing my media girl. Feel better soon x”

Lando. You smiled. He didn’t have to, but he did. Wait wait- how did he know my address?

Monaco. Your favourite track.

You were getting ready to go to the track with Lando. You ruffled through your suitcase in a frenzy, realising that you didn’t pack your polo.

You panicked, figuring out what to do. You called Ava but it went straight to voicemail. You figured she was busy.

Who else could you call?

Right.

Lando bloody Norris.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, right?

The line rings. “Y/N! What’s up.”

“You don’t happen to have an extra McLaren polo, do you?”

He chuckles, “I’ll be there in 5.”

You sigh in relief, “Thank you.”

His room was right across yours so it didn’t take him long for him to arrive. He passed you the shirt and you took it without looking at it.

You wore it for the rest of the day, not knowing the shirt had a big ol’ NORRIS 4 on the back.

And of course, the fans went crazy about that.

You didn’t know it then, but Lando knew exactly what he was doing.

Summer break.

You expected to spend it alone in your apartment like you always do but this year was different.

You spent your summer golfing with Lando and of course Carlos, (something you didn’t think you would do), a week in Monaco and a few days in Amalfi Coast.

Of course, you posted on your Instagram story. This garnered the attention of your friends. Summer break was also where the line between “friends” and “someone I work with” became blurred.

@yourusername posted on their story

@yourusername posted on their story

@yourusername posted on their story

The choice of residence in Amalfi Coast was a 3 bedroom home, but of course there were hiccups; there weren’t enough rooms and so, Lando gave you his and he slept on the couch.

That night when you woke up thirsty and wanted to grab a drink, you passed by Lando in the living room. He was asleep so you tried your best to be quiet.

After pouring yourself a drink, you tiptoed back to the room in order to not wake him up. You buried yourself under the covers when suddenly you heard a knock. You exhaled out a breathe you didn't even know you were holding.

“Y/N?” The gruff voice calls out.

Shit.

You went to open the door to be greeted by a sleepy, messy-haired, half-naked (he didn’t sleep with a shirt on) Lando. Guess your efforts were futile after all.

“Yes?”

“You mind if I slept with you? I can’t seem to fall asleep on that stupid couch,”

You nodded and he let himself in. You realised you were just in an oversized top and undies, you weren’t wearing any pants so you quickly scurried to the bed, covering yourself with the duvet.

“I know you’re not wearing any pants. You don’t have hide it,” He suddenly spoke.

Your eyes widen. “Wh-what?”

“I said you don’t have to hide it. I’ve seen you in a bikini before so it’s not that awkward.”

“Okay…?” Was all you managed to say.

The next morning, you woke up cuddled into Lando. You eyes widened at the thought of you two even cuddling. You were quickly brought back to reality when you felt his hands playing with the section of skin on your back that was exposed since your shirt rode up in your sleep.

“Good morning,” He says. You quickly escape his grasp and returned to your side of the bed.

“M-morning,”

He chuckles softly, “I had a good sleep last night. Thanks.” He says before exiting the room to go to God knows where.

To be honest, you kind of developed a crush for Lando, but you had no idea if he felt the same. Maybe he was just being friendly you told yourself.

Working with him was great, but being able to hang out with him and see what he was like outside of work was even better.

He was kind, a little goofy and of course a total flirt. He was shy too at times, but when you told Max why Lando was so shy around you, all Max did was laugh and say “You’ll know soon enough.”

And soon enough you did.

You remembered the day so clearly; it was a breezy evening in Monza. You were still Lando’s media officer, but somewhere along the lines the two of you stopped being close.

Lando didn’t go to the track with you anymore, and everyone realised that. They wondered if you and Lando weren’t friends anymore, or was it more than that?

It was a first, the friendship faltered but your feelings for him stood strong. You couldn’t lie, but you missed talking to him. All the late night chats, the calls, the gossips. You wondered, was it something you said? Or did?

P19. He finished P19. He refused to do any post race interviews, “tell me how much and I’ll write a cheque” was all he said.

He was mad about the shit car, the shit pace, and that nothing has been going his way these past few months. Lando had been finishing below top 10 and he was unhappy about it.

You noticed how upset he was but you weren’t on talking terms so you didn’t check up on him.

You headed off to you hotel, calling it a night.

You sat down on the bed, you sighed, looking down at your phone. Usually, you would be texting Lando to the point where you dont even look up to see where you’re walking. But tonight, just like the other nights, your phone remained silent. No rings, no dings, nothing.

You don’t know why you were expecting a text, he was in no mood to talk anyways even if you two were on talking terms.

As you were about to enter the bathroom for a shower, your phone dings.

You looked at it, your heart rate now increasing.

Talk? Talk about what?

You replied and anxiously waited for an answer. But the answer came in the form of a knock.

You walked to the door, opening it. Lando walks in and takes a seat on the foot of your bed.

He stays silent for a minute, and you just stood there looking at him, waiting for some sort of sentence to come out from his mouth.

“I-“ He sighs. He looks up at you.

“P19.” He says.

“Yeah I know, I was there.” You dismissed him. “Is that all you have to say after you stopped replying to my messages? After avoiding me at work? What’s wrong with you?” You blurted out.

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you!”

“Me?! Go on, why don’t you tell me whats wrong? I wasn’t the one who just decided to fuck off out of no where and give the cold shoulder.”

He laughs, humourlessly, “First of all, you’re a fucking muppet. Can’t you see?”

You interrupt, “A muppet? Wow I-“

He cuts you off, “Listen will you?! I brought you to Monaco and Amalfi Coast. We shared a bed together. I don’t do that for just anyone. You’re.. fuck!” He stops, “You’re funny, kind and you’re beautiful, oh god you’re beautiful. All these things I did for you, don’t you see it Y/N? I’m…” He pauses, “I’m whipped Y/N.. I’m fucking head over heels for you. And I love you doesn’t begin to express what I feel for you so I stopped talking to you cos I didn’t want to hurt myself if you were to not feel the same way. And of course I miss you, I miss talking to you, I miss going to track with you. Everyone’s asking me why and I don’t have an answer for them!”

You felt tears brimming in your eyes. You cried, not because you were sad, but because you felt like there was a huge weight that had been lifted off your shoulder.

He rushes over to you as soon as you cried, holding you in his arms.

“Shit, I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to raise my voice at you.”

You cried even more, “I-it’s not that,” You said in between breathes.

“Then? What’s wrong? Talk to me,”

“I,” You tried to speak, “I l-like you t-too Lando.”

He laughs, “Well you could’ve told me that before I started screaming like a crazy idiot didn’t you?”

You laughed, “Yeah, yeah I could’ve.”

[lee-laurent]

Under the Radar - Matthew Tkachuk

Summary: Matthew Tkachuk elopes with his secret lover, the biggest issue... she's Luke Hughes' twin sister.

Content: marriage, secret relationship, age gap (it's legal!!), angst, unsupportive family, mentions of sex, fighting, physical violence (not between couple!)

WC: 3.45k

notes: i listened to "Archie, Marry Me" by Alvvays on repeat while writing this and "Please Please Please" cause that's how freya feels about matt here lol i've been watching the stanley cup finals and my love for matt tkachuk has grown hehe enjoy!! :D obviously idk anyone in this story personally, so it's all for the drama !!

Freya giggled as Matthew placed kisses on her exposed shoulder. She was standing in front of the full body mirror in her boyfriend's room, flattening out the silky white dress that she'd chosen for the occasion. The white silk fell mid thigh and had small slit on the left side, a small bow adorned the corseted top.

"Fuck, you look stunning, love," Matt whispered in her ear, goosbumps forming on the back of her neck.

"I just need to do my hair, then we can head out," Freya smiled, giving Matthew a quick peck as she walked into his bathroom. He followed her, watching as she took the heated curling iron and spun a piece of her dirty blonde hair around it. After finishing some loose curls and setting them with hair spray, Freya did a once over in the mirror.

"What d'you think, Matty?"

"Hottest girl on this planet," he smirked, trailing kisses along her neck.

"Stop! We've gotta get to the courthouse."

"Right, right. But after..."

"Matt!"

"We've gotta consummate the marriage, Frey."

She giggled, hiding her face in his neck. He placed a kiss to her head, spinning her around so he could admire them in the mirror. She grabbed her phone, snapping a quick mirror pic.

"That one's getting framed," she nodded, zooming on her boyfriend's face.

"Are you sure you don't want me to shave? Just for the photos?" Matt offered.

"No! The scruff is soooo hot! Jess said we have to look hot for our photos!"

"Okay, okay. Can't believe Jess knows we're getting married, but our families don't."

"We'll tell them when it's time. Plus, Jess is good at keeping secrets."

That was true. Freya's best friend, Jessica, had been keeping the couple's relationship a secret for a year and a half now. The girls had met at University of Miami two years before and had been best friends ever since.

"You got your ring?" Matthew asked, placing the small velvet box in his suit jack.

"Yes, sir! I'm so excited!"

"Me too, baby. Can't wait for you to be Mrs. Tkachuk."

"Sounds so hot when you say it," she flirted, placing a hand on his lapel.

He winked, "Sit on the bed. I'll help you with your heels."

Freya complied, bouncing as she sat down. Matt grabbed the strappy, white heels from his closet. He guided her feet into them, gently doing up the buckles. She ran a hand through his hair, fixing it the way she liked it.

"Shall we, Future Mrs. Tkachuk?"

"We shall," she giggled, interlocking their arms as they walked to the parking garage.

"And Miss Hughes, do you take Matthew Tkachuk to be your lawfully wedded husband?" the man behind the counter asked.

"I do," she beamed, holding Matt's hands tightly in her own.

"Do you, Mr. Tkachuk, take Freya Hughes to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do."

"You may now kiss the bride."

The couple met in a sweet kiss, not wanting it to be too long in the public courthouse.

"If you'll both just sign here and here," the man smiled, sliding the paper and pen towards the couple. "Pefect! You two are now legally married. Congratulations!"

Freya's smile was so wide, it hurt her cheeks. She was practically jumping as they exited the building. Matthew was smiling just as brightly, tightly gripping onto his wife's waist.

"Jess!" Freya exclaimed, throwing her arms around her best friend.

"There's Mrs. Tkachuk! Always knew you two would end up together, Frey. I've been telling you since we met," Jess whispered. Freya blushed, pushing her best friend.

"Let's go take some photos!" Matthew guided the girls into his car, driving them down to a small, very private park. They snapped some cute photos together, before Jess handed Freya a bottle of champagne. She shook it, spraying the alcohol all over herself and her husband. Jess got some amazing candids of the couple, especially as they met in a passionate kiss that she snapped a few shots of.

"Enjoy your wedding night!" Jess shouted, waving goodbye.

Freya couldn't stop giggling as they entered Matt's bedroom, "We're married! I'm married to the love of my life!"

"Did you chug a bunch of that champagne when I wasn't looking? Or are you just drunk on love?" Matt teased.

"Matt! We're married!"

"I know, love! Freya Tkachuk. God, that sounds so hot," his voice was gruff as he pulled her on top of him on the bed.

"I love you so much," she pressed kisses all over his face.

"I love you too, Frey. Now... shall we make this marriage official," he smirked, placing his hands on her hips.

"Any cute boys at school?" Ellen asked.

"What? No, Mom. I told you I'm focusing on my degree," Freya giggled, helping her mom to make dinner. They were at the cottage that Quinn and Jack had purchased. The Hughes family had invited the Tkachuks for a weekend and Freya was desperately trying to hide her excitement, having not seen her husband in just over a month.

"I know, I know. Just thought maybe some would've caught your eye. Who knows... maybe when Luke's friends come you'll find one of them cute."

"Mom!"

"Sorry, sorry. But, Luke told me that Dylan's little brother is single."

"MOM!"

Ellen laughed, continuing to cut up the fruit in front of her.

"We're home!" Quinn shouted, placing his keys in the bowl in the front hall. Ellen quickly wiped her hands off, running to meet their guests.

"Chantal! Keith! How've you been?"

The two families immediately started chatting away, Freya biting her lip when she saw Matt wink at her. She was pulled into a conversation with Chantal about school and if Matt had helped her out at all while living in Flordia.

"Oh, yeah. He always asks if I need anything. I even went to a few games first semester," she smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Look at that ring! So cute! Where'd you get it?" Taryn squealed.

"My best friend Jess bought it for me!" Freya lied. That was the excuse that the couple had come up with. Matt had 'bought his own ring' and 'Jess' had bought Freya's.

"It's beautiful! Could be a wedding ring!"

"Yeah. She's the best."

"You live with Jess?" Chantal asked.

"Yeah, yeah. We've lived together this past year."

"Before we get too far into conversation, let's show everyone their rooms," Ellen smiled, unknowingly saving Freya from crafting more lies.

After a dinner full of catching up, Matt and Freya sat around the fire with the rest of the kids. The adults had called it a night an hour before, but the young adults were still buzzing with excitement. Freya was clasping a seltzer between her hands, sitting between her twin and Taryn.

"No boyfriend?" Taryn asked, taking a sip of her White Claw.

"Hm? I'm too focused on school."

"Lukey's been trying to set her up with Tyler Duke, but she's not interested," Quinn snorted from beside Brady.

"He's just... not my type."

"Not your type? Tyler is like the definition of your type, Frey! Curly haired, hockey player? You'd marry him on the spot if you hadn't convinced yourself you're focused on your studies," Luke laughed.

Freya's eyes looked around the fire, meeting with Matt's, who had his eyebrow quirked.

"Tell us more about this Tyler kid," he mused, taking a long drink from his beer.

"He's a sophmore at Umich. Is madly in love with Freya and has been since I started doing hockey with Dylan. They even kissed when they were like 14."

"Luke! Stop!" Freya hid her face in her hands. Matthew looked unimpressed, chugging the rest of his beer, before cracking open another one.

"Maybe Freya doesn't like younger guys," Jack joked, making Matthew cover his smirk with his new drink.

"Can we stop talking about my love life? Please!"

"It's okay, Frey. Matt's is just as sad," Brady joked, patting his older brother on the back.

"What can I say? Baby brother got married before me, and all my hopes and dreams went down the drain," Matt retorted, staring directly at Freya. She swallowed harshly, now reaching for another drink. She couldn't do this sober.

After the awkward conversation about her love life, or lack there of, Freya was silent. She didn't want to accidentally say something to out the face that she was married at 20, especially with all the alcohol running through her system. It wasn't until the next day that things really went down hill.

Everyone was paying Quinn to get more alcohol for that night. Matt opened his wallet when a photo fell out, not noticing he fished out a ten dollar bill and handed it to the eldest Hughes. Luke bent down, grabbing the photo that had fallen on the floor. His brow furrowed as he studied the image. His sister in a Panthers jersey, her arms wrapped around a sweaty looking Matt.

"What's wrong, Rusty?" Jack laughed, "What's that?"

Luke handed the photo to his brother, who also took a moment to study it.

"Is that Freya?"

"What're we looking at?" Freya smiled, pushing her way between her brothers. Her face fell, "Where'd you get that?"

"Matt dropped it," Luke's eyes narrowed at his sister.

"Oh. Hm, that's... huh," she trailed off.

"Quinn! Come look at this!" Jack waved over his brother, who was chatting with Brady. Matt had disappeared off to the kitchen to talk to Jim.

"Why? Oh... Frey?" Quinn shot her a questioning look after being handed the photo.

"Why's everyone so upset? We're friends," she tried to smile.

"Then why's it in his wallet?" Luke sneered.

"Because... we're really good friends?" she shrugged, sounding unsure of herself.

Quinn huffed, pushing the photo into Jack's chest. He stormed off to the kitchen, followed by the rest of the kids. He harshly pushed Matt, making the taller boy stumble.

"Wow. What the hell, Quinn?" Matt turned around.

"You're fucking my little sister?! She's barely legal, Matthew! And you're fucking 26!"

"Quinn," Ellen warned, but her son didn't listen. He pushed Matt again, this time getting a shove in return.

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about, but you need to calm the fuck down," Matt attempted to keep his composure, knowing he could easily overpower the Hughes' boy.

"Don't even pretend to be innocent! You've been sleeping with Freya!"

"Freya? What's Quinn talking about, dear?" Ellen asked, moving away from the boys.

"I- I don't know, Mom."

"Bullshit! Look at this, Mom!" Jack handed the photo over. Ellen looked it over, a confused expression covering her face. She met Freya's pleading eyes, biting her bottom lip.

The fight between Quinn and Matt was escalating. After a particularly harsh push from Quinn, Matthew tackled him to the floor. The kitchen broke out into hysterics. Everyone was shouting, telling the boys to stop. Freya had started to cry, Taryn holding onto her tightly. Even if Taryn was a little upset she didn't know about her childhood friend's relationship with her brother, she was still going to support her.

"Enough!" Jim's voice broke through the noise, he and Keith wrangled Mattew off Quinn. "Everyone in the living room, now!"

Freya stood next to Taryn, her shoulders shaking with sobs. Quinn and Luke were fuming. Jack appeared to be a bit upset, but he wasn't as protective over his little sister.

"Someone, please, explain what the hell is going on here!" Jim boomed.

"Matt's been taking advantage of Freya!" Quinn exclaimed.

"Matthew," Chantal looked towards her oldest.

"He- he's not taking advantage of me," Freya wiped her nose on the sleeve of her hoodie.

"Let's hear what Matthew and Freya have to say before we jump to conclusions," Ellen mediated.

"I-" Freya started.

"We're married," Matthew cut her off. Silence filled the room.

"You're what?!" Jim asked, anger covering his face.

"We- we got married at the end of the semester," Freya explained, more tears leaving her eyes. Taryn rubbed her back comfortingly.

"Why?! Are you pregnant?!" Chantal gasped.

"No, Mom. She's not pregnant. We- we love each other."

"She's 20!" Luke yelled.

"This... this does seem a bit sudden, Frey," Jack mumbled.

"No! Matthew and I are in love!" Freya sobbed, standing up and moving towards him. Jim stopped her before she could, handing her over to her mother.

"I think it's best you leave, Matthew," Jim sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"You're kicking my son out for being in love?!" Chantal screeched, "No way!"

"She's practically still a teenager!" Quinn retorted.

"She's an adult! And they made an adult decision. Although, I would've appreciated an invite."

"It was private, Mom. Just us at the courthouse."

"You got fucking eloped to him?!" Quinn growled at his sister. She sobbed harder, hiding her face in her mom's shoulder.

"I think it's best if we all leave," Keith sighed, patting Jim on the back.

"No! Matty," Freya cried, but Ellen pulled her back.

"Shh, love. It's okay," she cooed, running a hand through Freya's hair.

Matthew nodded solemnly. And just like that the Tkachuks were gone.

"Freya, why did you think it was a good idea to get eloped?" Jim asked, sitting across from his daughter at the table.

"I- I love him. We just... it felt right."

"We... we just would've liked to know, Frey. That's a big decision to make."

"I know, Mom. I'm sorry. We were just happy living in our own little world. We were going to tell everyone later."

"We're happy that you're happy, Freya. You just need to get your brothers to feel the same way. I'm sorry for kicking Matthew out, I just didn't want the boys to fight anymore. And it is Quinn's house," Jim sighed.

"Thanks, Dad. It's okay. I'm sure Matt understands. I love you guys."

"We love you too, Freya," Ellen smiled, pulling her daughter in for a hug.

Freya knocked on Quinn's door, getting an exasperated "WHAT?!" in response.

"It's Frey. Can we talk?"

"I'm not sure I want to," Quinn replied.

"Come on, Quinn. Hear me out."

"Fine. Come in."

Freya sat on the edge of her brother's bed, him sitting next to her. The air in the room felt thick, and it made her anxiety even worse.

"I'm- Freya, I just want to understand what your thought process was when you decided to get married to a guy you've been with for a year."

"I'm in love. Don't people say love makes you do dumb things?"

"He's 26."

"I know. But I'm an adult too. It isn't illegal. And it's not like I married some random guy. You know Matt. You've known Matt forever."

"Doesn't mean I'm happy about it. Are you sure this wasn't a shotgun wedding?"

"I'm not pregnant! We're always safe when we-"

"I don't want to hear about your sex life. Especially your sex life with Matthew Tkachuk," Quinn groaned. "But I guess I'm relieved you aren't pregnant."

"Yeah, me too," she giggled.

"Look, I'll get over this, Frey. I just need time. I'm your big brother and I'll always love you, but... I don't know how to feel about this."

"But it has nothing to do with you, Quinn. It's my life. I decided to get married."

"Nothing to do with me? Freya, you're my little sister. And you kept this secret from the whole family. I'm pretty sure I'm allowed to be pissed! Especially when you married my best friend's older brother!"

"I- I'm sorry, Quinn. I'll give you the time. But please remember that I... I am an adult."

"I know, Freya. I know. I- I love you."

"Love you too, Quinn."

"Cracking Luke isn't going to be this easy. He's really upset," Quinn sighed.

Freya entered Luke's room, "Leave."

"Luke."

"No. Leave. I don't want to see you."

"Luke-"

"Leave, Freya! I don't want to talk to you! You betrayed my trust."

"I'm not leaving, Luke."

He sat up in his bed and if looks could kill, Freya would be dead.

"Fine. You want to hear what I have to say? I'm pissed. I am so fucking mad at you. You're my twin! You... you've always told me everything! And I tell you everything! Then I have to find out through a photo that you're not even just dating Matthew Tkachuk... you're married to the fucking guy! Would've been nice to know! Like I don't know... when you started TALKING TO HIM!"

"Luke-"

"No, Freya. I don't want to hear your side of things. Leave. NOW!"

Freya returned to her room with tears in her eyes, clicking on Matt's contact and holding her phone up to her ear.

"Hey, baby. Everything okay?"

"Mom and Dad are happy for us. Quinn said he'll get over it. I don't think Jack even cares. But Luke... Luke is really mad at me. I don't think he's been this mad since I broke his Sidney Crosby mini stick when we were kids."

"I- I can come get you, love. Go for a little drive."

"I want to go home, Matty."

"Home? Like Florida?"

"Yes," she sobbed.

"Okay... okay, baby. We can do that. I-"

"Come get me."

"Okay, yeah. I'm coming. I love you, Freya."

"I love you too, Matt."

A week later, Freya felt like she could finally breathe. Matt wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back flush against his chest. He rocked them back and forth, whispering sweet nothings into her ear.

"I love you."

"I love you too. You wanna get ready for bed? It's been a long couple of days."

She shook her head, spinning to wrap her arms around his neck.

"What do you want, Frey? Anything you want."

"You," she whispered, meeting their lips in a sweet kiss.

The next morning, Freya woke up to her phone ringing repeatedly.

"Hello?" she answered sleepily. Matthew groaned, rolling over and pulling her body closer to his.

"Hey, Frey! Luke's kind of miserable. D'you think you could talk to him?" Jack's voice broke through the speaker.

"Um... he said he doesn't want to talk to me."

"Who is it?" Matt mumbled.

"He's just being dumb! Frey, you're his best friend in the whole world. He's all mopey without you."

"Then he can apologize for yelling at me and then I'll think about it."

"Frey-"

"Now if you don't mind, I'm trying to enjoy my alone time with my husband."

"Ew-"

Freya hung up, placing her phone back on the nightstand. Matt sighed, throwing her leg over his hip. He buried his head in her neck, his breathing falling into a steady pattern as he fell back asleep. Freya couldn't sleep though, she just wanted Luke to accept that she was happy, why was it so hard for him?

Luke had typed the message to his sister out at least 15 times, but he couldn't find the words to describe how he was feeling. Quinn and Jack, with the help of their parents, had talked some sense into him. He understood that he had the right to be upset with Freya, but he had taken it too far. Now, he just needed his apology to seem sincere and heartfelt.

"Just tell her exactly how you feel," Jack shrugged.

"Ew, you're making it sound like I'm confessing my feelings to a girl."

Jack rolled his eyes, "Shut up, Luke. Just text our fucking sister."

Hey, Freya. I know I shouldv'e done this sooner, but the way I reacted to the news of you and Matt was immature and unfair to you. You were already feeling so much stress and I just added to that. I have the right to be a little upset, but you're right... you don't have to tell me everything. I love you, Frey. Text me when you see this

When Freya saw that text, she couldn't wipe the smile from her face. Rolling over and pressing kisses all over Matthew's exposed skin.

"Hm," he groaned, "What's got you in such a good mood?"

"Luke apologized! Everyone is happy for us!"

"That's good. Now sleep. You look exhausted, babe."

"I can't sleep now! Everything is the way I always wanted it to be!"

"Mmm, yeah. That's awesome, Frey."

"Matty! This is the best!"

He laughed, watching sleepily as she straddled his waist. He placed his hands on her hips, running his thumbs over the smooth skin.

"I'm happy that you're happy, baby."

"I'm so happy! Almost as happy as when we got married," she smirked.

"Nothing can top that."

And with that Freya leaned forward and connected their lips. Morning breath or not this was the man she loved, and now she could share him with the world.

[bowsellie]

we have chemistry

warnings: college!ellie x college!reader, stoner!ellie, chronically ill reader (not specific, just mentions of fatigue and a medical accommodation for a single room for plot reasons lol), weed usage (Ellie and reader), mild language, briefly proofread, no use of y/n minors dni! smut in 3rd section! top!ellie, some degradation, praise (reader called a good girl, pretty girl, etc., ellie told she's doing a good job), SO MUCH CONSENT WE <3 CONSENT, fingering (r! receiving), oral (r! receiving), aftercare.

💗💗💗

You didn't want to be taking organic chemistry. Nobody in that class did--not even the chemistry majors. But as finals season rolled around, you found yourself spending extra time to make sure that it would at least be worth your while. Needless to say, not everybody shared the same drive.

As the clock hit 8:49am on the last class before the exam, everybody started shoving their laptops away despite the professor's continuing drone. To your right there was an extra loud snap! as the student beside you--an auburn-haired girl you'd never seen before--shut the screen with finality. You shot her a glare, gently closing your notebook as people began to trickle out.

"You're smart, right?"

You angled your face towards the sound, assuming somebody was having a side conversation close by. Instead, you found yourself face to face with striking green eyes leaning to reach your line of sight.

"Hi. Yeah, you. You're using an actual notebook and have all the fancy pens and shit, so...are you smart?"

Your eyebrows drew together slightly as you shrugged with one shoulder. "I try, I guess. Um...why?"

One corner of the girl's mouth picked up. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I've literally never been to this class before. My grade sucks. But I really don't want to retake this shit. Do you think you could help me?"

You stared at her incredulously, mentally calculating the equation of audacity and arrogance it must take to expect a complete stranger to help despite a clear lack of effort.

You opened your mouth slightly to say some variation of hell fucking no, who do you think you are anyways?, maybe you should have considered that before skipping literally every other class meeting when she stuck out her hand. "I'm Ellie, by the way. I'll pay you for helping me." When you hesitated to shake it, she added a "please".

You rolled your eyes, shaking the girl--Ellie's--hand with slightly too much force. "Fine. Whatever. Give me your number." You slid your phone across the table, already open to the contacts app, and watched as she typed.

"You're a lifesaver! Thank you..." she asked, pausing for your name. You gave it. "Thank you."

💗💗💗

Getting back to your dorm and settling into bed for a nap, you briefly texted the number now in your phone as "Ellie" with the last name "Wehavechemistry".

hey

Almost immediately, three dots popped up.

hey there. do you like my contact? lmao

i mean, we do have chemistry together. so like...sure?

no no no. i meant like...we have chemistry. wink wink nudge nudge. and my last name starts with a w so it's funny. do you get it?

...

it's funny.

yeah yeah sure. very funny. hahaha. anyways.

when did you want to come over? i'm free all weekend, and the final's monday. sooooo

oh shit

didn't realize the final was monday

ummmmmmmm how does tomorrow at 8pm work? do you have a roommate or something we need to accommodate for?

no, no roommate. tomorrow at 8pm works fine for me. see you then, ellie.

:)

Turns out, texting with Ellie wasn't all that insufferable. She was friendlier than you expected, and every time you put your phone down to try and fall asleep you found your heart beating too fast at every notification to actually put it down.

Instead, you kept the conversation going until 8pm the next day rolled around, when instead of a text you got three loud raps at the door.

Opening it up, you saw Ellie in the same hoodie as yesterday. This time, her hair was slightly damp and she smelled like...old spice and something pungent and earthy. Did she shower already?

"Hey," you said, suddenly feeling awkward and over dressed in your jean shorts and crop top, hair still done from that afternoon. "You can come in."

Ellie grinned at you as she slid in the door. "We have a semester of schoolwork to cover. Hope you're prepared for a long night," she said.

"Trust me, I am. Did you bring anything?" You asked, looking for a bag as she climbed on to your bed.

"Nope. Not school stuff, anyways." Curious, you tossed your notebook towards her and watched as she pulled a pre-rolled joint and lighter from her hoodie pocket. "I'm assuming you don't smoke since you're like, a nerd, but do you mind if I do?"

You shook your head, dropping your jaw in false offense. "How lame do you think I am? Just because I actually go to class doesn't mean I'm a nerd."

Ellie shot you a disbelieving look, but handed you the joint anyways as you joined her on the bed. "Here, have the first hit. As a thank you for helping me out."

She lit it for you as you inhaled, passing her the weed and opening your notebook. "If this keeps you from retaining information that's not my fault. Just saying."

"Trust me, I'm so alert right now it's crazy. All of tonight is gonna be stuck in my memory for a while."

💗💗💗

The room gradually grew darker, lit only by your adjusting lamp and the last smoldering ashes of the joint as you reached halfway through the notebook.

You breathed heavily through your nose, looking at Ellie seriously. "It's so late. We're not going to finish this tonight."

As she looked up at you, you suddenly noticed how much closer you two had moved over the course of the night. Had your thighs been touching the whole time? Has her breath always been so close it's hitting your cheek? Why did she have to smell so good?

Your own breath caught in your throat as she leaned even closer to you, placing a hand so close to your leg you could feel the fabric of her sweatshirt against her bare thigh. Almost imperceptibly, her gaze flickered down to your chest, now rapidly rising and falling.

"How set do you think I am for this stupid final?" Ellie asked seriously, a rasp in her voice either from smoke or the lowered pitch.

"You picked up on everything really well, so at least the first half I think you'll do fine."

She grabbed your left hand in both of hers, causing your breath to catch again. Her eyes flickered down again, this time lingering longer. Following her gaze, you noticed the top of your bra peeking out.

"Sorry," you said, quickly adjusting your shirt to cover it as heat spread through your body.

"No, no, you're fine. Sorry for looking," she said. You looked at her face, watching as her eyes seemed to trace the shape of your shoulders and the line of your throat.

The air thickened with tension, but you found yourself not wanting Ellie to leave yet. "So, why did you take this class anyways? If you didn't want to go?"

Finally, she met your eyes. "I need a chemistry for my major. Astronomy. I thought I would like this one, but didn't realize it was a fucking 8am when I signed up. By the time I realized I wasn't going to make it up that early it was too late to drop." She shrugged. "What about you? Big chemistry fan?"

You snorted. "Not really, but I also needed a chemistry for my major. I like the 8ams, it lets me have afternoons free to sleep. That's why I don't have a roommate--medical accommodations for fatigue or whatever." She nodded along, genuinely listening.

"Well, hopefully I don't have to retake this class. Next time there probably won't be a pretty girl willing to help me out."

You smiled at her, breathing sharply out of your nose in a laugh. "We'll see what we can do."

A beat of silence washed over you before Ellie pointed towards the pride flag on your wall with her chin. "So...are you..." She began, causing you to laugh full out this time.

"Yeah. Obviously, I'd hope, but if you're feminine people tend to assume otherwise I guess." You smiled and looked at her. "Are you?"

Ellie placed a hand on her chest. "I'm hurt you had to ask. I've been trying to flirt with you since I got your number, babe."

Oh.

"Oh."

She leaned back a little. "I can cut it out, if you want. I couldn't tell if you were into it or not."

Without giving her time to continue doubting, you sprung forward and attached your lips to hers. Threading your fingers in her hair and breathing in as you pulled back.

"So...you are into it?"

"I'm a little dense, Ellie. Don't let the color-coded notes fool you. But yes. Now that I know...I'm into it."

She smiled at you with one side of her mouth again, this time leaning forward to kiss you first. Lips opening slightly, you felt her body around yours as her hands found the bed and pushed you on to your back.

Ellie pushed her tongue gently into your mouth, settling between your legs as they fell open. As you felt her weight between your hips, you groaned a little.

Whining a little as she pulled away, your eyes fluttered shut as Ellie threaded her fingers through the hair by your ear. "Is this supposed to be my payment?" you asked, leaning into her touch.

"Shut up," she said playfully, leaning in to kiss you again. This time it was more forceful, teeth bumping against teeth as your tongues chased each other. Too focused on the overwhelming sensation of Ellie's mouth on your own, you broke the kiss to moan in surprise when you felt her knee push against your core.

Using the opportunity to trail her mouth down your cheek, to your jaw, to your neck, Ellie asked "is this okay, baby?" between kisses. You nodded before remembering she couldn't see you, instead responding with a slightly choked "yes."

In response, her lips attached right behind your ear as her teeth sunk into you and she began to suck. You groaned, bucking your hips against her knee. Kindly, she began to push it back into you, laughing into your neck as you continued whimpering.

"What?" you asked. "Why are you laughing?"

Ellie pulled away from the spot she had been working into your collarbone, meeting your eyes. "You're just so pretty. Can't believe I have you falling apart for me and I've barely touched you."

Your mouth fell open at her words, groaning. Ellie's mouth found yours again, her hands reaching for your tits over your shirt. "Can't blame me for looking at these," she said between kisses, "You look so good in this shirt."

"Take it off, then," you said. You sounded braver than you felt, your stomach doing absolute flips as the girl over you quickly complied to reveal your lacy nude bra.

"I like this," she said softly. "I want it off, though. Is that okay, pretty?" You nodded. The bra was nothing special--just comfy and the right color. If Ellie liked it, though, it was now one of your favorites.

Her mouth moved down your chin and neck to attach to your left nipple, bringing a hand to your opposite hip as she sucked and licked lightly. Your hips continued to buck against her knee, which was now stationary as you essentially rode her thigh.

Chuckling a little, Ellie looked up at you and began unbuttoning your shorts. "Knew you'd be needy. What kind of thoughts are you hiding from me?" she asked, pulling off your bottoms and panties in one go when you lifted your hips to help.

You smiled a little watching her eyes attach themselves to the spot between your legs. "What can I say?" you said. "Maybe I'm a little slutty if the right girl has me under her."

This seemed to light something in Ellie, who watched your face as she brought your face down to your pussy. Close enough to feel her breath, her eyes gleamed as she moved away from your hips chasing her.

"Please," you asked, voice breaking. "Please, Ellie."

"Guess you are a slut, huh? Begging for me already." Whatever response you had was cut off by a screaming moan as her mouth attached itself to you, immediately lapping at your clit before interspersing it with longer licks. Your legs shut around her face as your hands grabbed into her hair, pulling a little as you noticed the groan she made at the pressure.

"That feels so good, Ellie." Her motions sped up at this, and you hurriedly repeated the phrase as she focused more attention on your clit. Feeling everything tighten, you wrapped your ankles around her back as your hips lifted almost completely off the bed. Still attached to you, Ellie fully moaned as you pulled her hair and came over her face.

Whimpering softly as she pulled away, you audibly groaned when she looked up at you and wiped her chin with the back of her hand. "You did so good, baby. Do you have another one in you?"

You quickly nodded, feeling words escape you. All you wanted was for her to say you did good again.

Ellie leaned into you, placing her head into the crook of your neck as her fingers ghosted lightly over your hips, stomach, and thighs. Finally, you felt them dip into the pool of wet that had collected in your cunt. Spreading the mix of saliva, cum, and arousal up to your clit and around your hole, she slowly pushed a slender finger into you. Your back arched off the bed when she began pumping it in and out, chuckling against your neck.

"Such a pretty girl. You're doing so good," she whispered. Your moans grew louder at her words and she pushed another finger in. "Good girl," she breathed, kissing your neck and jaw as she worked into you.

"Ellie," you gasped. "Ellie, please."

"What, baby?"

"Please, Ellie, please. Wanna cum."

You felt her lips quirk up against your collarbone as she added a thumb to your clit and a curl to her fingers. Quicker than you'd ever been able to get there yourself, you felt the tightening of your gut. She swallowed your moans with a sloppy kiss, gently catching your bottom lip between her teeth before soothing it with her tongue. She used her other hand to hold on to your hair at the scalp as you writhed, second orgasm shuddering through your body.

"Good girl," she said as she worked you through it. Sitting up, she wiped her fingers on your thighs before moving up up to let you rest your head on her chest. "You did so good, baby. My smart, pretty, good girl."

You whimpered a little, not prepared to speak just yet. Ellie seemed to understand and didn't push you, holding you and playing with your hair until you leaned back to smile at her.

"That was good. Thank you," you told her, leaning in for a kiss that tasted of your sweat and pussy.

Ellie broke away, moving the hand wrapped around your waist to grab something out of your back pocket. She placed it on your bare chest, tucking it between your tits.

"What do I look like, a prostitute?" you asked. "Much love to them, but..."

Ellie raised her eyebrows. "I mean, you fuck like a professional, but this is for helping me study."

You grabbed the bill and pushed it back into her pocket. "Save it for next time. We need to finish that notebook if you want to actually pass this class."

Ellie kissed the top of your head. "How does tomorrow work?"

A/N this is basically a self insert...my bad. tried to make it as inclusive to different readers as possible. let me know if there's anything I can improve on!! <3

[genacity]

DAY FIVE. FEVERISH

ft. kaeya alberich — genshin impact

as a werewolf, it’s hard to control your animalistic urges as is. but while in a heat; dizzy and restless and constantly feverish with your tease of a boyfriend around, it just gets that much more difficult.

ruling. nsfw — mature content

content warnings. amab! werewolf! reader, breeding kink, heat, anal pen, “monsterfucking”, spanking, belly bulge, established relationship, mentions of pregnancy, slight feminization (using “mother” for kaeya, talking about carrying the reader’s child), reader can be viewed as gn because there is no gender-specific vocabulary except the male anatomy lol

an. hello everyone i’m back, ty for all the kind words you all sent to me! this was not proofread so don’t make fun of me for any errors. i don’t read my shit b4 i post it. enjoy!!

kinktober 2023 masterlist

heats are the worst time of the month, you think.

when your brain is a constant blur; images running into themselves and you can barely make out what is or isn’t. voices make your head pound and your body is always on fire, with hands sweating a downpour and you can’t help but shed your clothing the moment you step into your shared apartment with your boyfriend, kaeya.

kaeya. that’s right, the love of your life— kaeya alberich was the damndest thing that’s ever happened to you. when you first met he was such an angel. gentle with a sweet tongue and smooth words that made your heart race.

when you first told him of your origins as a werewolf a few weeks after you started talking, he told you he saw you all the same. not as a monster like everyone else did.

and when he experienced your first heat about a month after you started dating, he learned something new about himself.

he liked it rough.

rough with the way you’d manhandle him, tossing him around into different positions to stuff him full just the way he liked after he teased you all day.

rough with the way you shoved him down onto your shared bed, quickly tearing his shirt apart— quite literally as the buttons flung off of the fabric and he let out a dissatisfied sound.

“that was my favorite shirt,” kaeya breathed, watching as your big hands fussed with his belt buckle “you’ll have to pay for that, y’know.”

“oh, i’ll pay for it.” you grumbled, swiftly tugging his pants off and discarding them onto the floor with his belt. quickly pushing his legs apart and rushing to press your lips and teeth to his exposed chest and skin.

he let out a shaky breath as your lips left marks on his skin. deep purpling marks and outlines of sharp canines messy along his collarbone. your hands crept down to his twitching cock, but swiftly passing it as your attention was focused… elsewhere.

“gonna prep you, kaeya.” you muttered against his burning skin before looking up for approval. “gonna prep you good so you can take my cock, m’kay?”

he nodded, and you continued. your large fingers began to work him open, making your lover gasp and clench tightly around the two digits inside of his hole.

kaeya felt his own thoughts blur. your thick, long fingers working in and out of him, making his body tense up with every thrust. it doesn’t take much to work him up— the smooth-talking captain really isn’t as suave as he thinks.

by the time you’ve fucked him open he’s already melting. biting his bottom lip to silence any sounds that may slip past his lips.

“ah… darling,” he whispered before being cut off by a whine. “please, i’m ready for you.”

“are you sure?” you asked, voice almost a purr, deep and rumbling in your chest. kaeya nodded eagerly, and a smirk splayed onto your lips. “you’ve spurred me on quite a bit. i won’t be gentle.”

“i don’t care,” he shook his head. “i want you. please?”

and so you positioned yourself right. throwing his slender legs over your shoulders and pressing your tip to his entrance.

he thought you’d never give in. kaeya opened his mouth to protest, to whine. but never got to for he felt your length split him nearly into two. you forced yourself in and he keened, head thrown back and hands grasping for the pillows behind his head as you began to fuck into him at a relentless pace.

“gonna fuck you full,” you panted, the smell of sweat and sex leaving the both of you breathless. “this what you wanted, huh? wanted me to use you ‘til you can’t speak?”

all he could muster was a breathy whimper. too focused on the feeling of your long cock breaking his body and forcing him down. just the way he wanted it. just the way he needed it.

kaeya felt as if he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. until a harsh slap to his bare thigh brought him back and he flinched, gasping for air as you kept fucking him.

“answer me.” you demanded, and he immediately scrambled to answer. “yes, yes, feels good,” kaeya whined. “you feel so good. so b-big, i can’t—”

and your hips began to speed up. thrusts growing hard and sloppy, your hands suddenly just beside his head as you angled his hips up to buck into his prostate.

kaeya almost wailed— maybe he did. body jolting with every thrust. voice dissipating into strained moans and whimpers as you continued to use his body.

“y/n, y/n,” he chanted. the sound of skin against skin and your rough groans in his ear only spurred him further. “so big, so full! fuuck!”

your growls turned into chuckles of amusement as you continued your rough pace on his body. “gonna breed you.” you whispered into the shell of his ear. “gonna use your body up and fuck you full of my babies.”

“yes, please,” kaeya nodded, huffing and whining. “fuck me full. wanna— i wanna feel you!”

he knew it wasn’t possible. you couldn’t actually get him pregnant. but the thought of it was exhilarating. you, knocking him up and leaving him with a baby. would he be a good mother? maybe. maybe not. he wish he could figure out. but if not, this would be just fine.

more than so.

kaeya opened his pretty eyes to try and look at you while you fucked him. instead, his vision fell to the bulge in his stomach that grew every time you drilled your hips up into him. the sight left his mind swirling with thoughts. so badly did he want your cum deep inside his stomach— so much so that the big bulge your cock imprinted in him did a baby take its place. he whined out, staring as your dick shaped his insides and left him moaning messily out for more.

“fuck, baby.” you groaned into kaeya’s ear. “i’m gonna cum. gonna make you take all of my cum. you’re gonna take my knot like a good boy, aren’t you?”

it was all ‘yes, yes, yes’ and ‘cum with me, please!’ from the lips of your lover. so badly did he want to experience the high of your release together.

and when you finally let go, finally pump all of your cum into his hole does he scream. the loudest he has in a while. you’re so warm, you make him feel so full— his eyes roll back into his skull and he’s stuttering pleas and begging for you to fill him up more, more, more.

his voice is giving out. similarly to his legs. you groan lowly into his ear and he feels his stomach churn. his own high leaving him breathless as it crashes over him and he himself cums streams of white all over his stomach.

the captain isn’t quite sure if he can breathe. not sure if his lungs are working properly, or if he’s even alive at all. not with the way he’s gripping the sheets for dear life as if worried he’ll find himself lost if he lets go.

and this is why he teases so much during your heats. to feel you inside him, stuffing him full and threatening to knock him up as if he’d take it like a curse— when in reality, he’d do anything to make you happy. even if it meant bearing your pups.