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spookwyrdie · 4 months

Text

Riled Up.

{part 1}{part 2}{part3}

Bang Chan x Reader x Han Jisung

word count: 2.5k

summary: After your little performance on the dance floor with Jisung, Chan pulls you into a limo to teach you a lesson and remind you who's in control. Just as he's about to make you scream, his phone rings. Seems like someone wants to be in the audience for this.

genre: smut, power play

warnings: adult dialogue, explicit sexual content, dom/sub dynamics, jealousy, phone sex, cunnilingus, oral sex [f receiving], edging, dacryphilia, some bratting if you squint

a/n: I got super excited to share this part, so here it is! Pt 3 is in the works rn and might take a little bit, please be patient for that one!

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I have only posted this here and on AO3 - user: spookwyrdie

Chan grabs your elbow and steers you off the dance floor and towards the exit. You watch his jaw clench, sending a ripple of desire through you as he drags you out of the club. You can feel how wet you are between your legs, thighs slick with arousal from dancing with Jisung. You’re so amped up from the anticipation and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

Once outside, he opens the door to the vehicle you arrived in - a stretch limo with the blacked-out windows. He gestures to you to slide in first, his eyes fierce with hunger. As you step in front of him, he lands a firm smack on your ass. You keen from the impact as it jolts through you, another gush of arousal drips out of you as you clench around nothing. Your dress rides up your thighs as you slide into the car, Chan quickly following behind you and slamming the door shut.

“Roll up the partition and take the long way back. The very long way back,” he says to the driver. The man nods as the opaque screen between the driver’s cab and the rest of the limo rolls up.

Chan’s eyes meet yours as he turns to you, leaning in until he’s a breath away. “Did you have your fun out there tonight?”

You bat your eyelashes at him, “Of course. Ji’s a great dancer, don’t you think?”

“I think you were putting on a show to get my attention.”

“Maybe... Did it work?” you ask, looking at him with a doe eyed innocence. He’s not falling for it, rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek.

“I don’t know, did it?” he grits out, taking your hand and placing it over the firm bulge in his pants. You salivate as you palm him through his pants, and he hums at the touch. You’re about to wrap your fingers around him when he snatches your wrist and pulls you close to him.

“I think I need to remind you exactly who you belong to.”

His plush lips crash against yours and you sink into his embrace. He tangles his hands into your hair and grips hard. Your jaw drops open as you moan at the harsh touch; Chan takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, pressing his tongue against yours, biting down on your plump lip, and wrapping himself around you possessively. You’re lost in the feel of his soft lips against yours, the push and pull you fall into naturally sweeping you away in the moment.

His hand comes up to your chin as he pulls away, holding you in place while you try and chase his lips. He hovers above you, tilting his head like he’s going to kiss you again. You reach up to close the distance, but he pulls back, smiling at the way his denial makes you pout. His lips trail along your jaw to your ear, biting down on the lobe, laving over the pain with his tongue. You cry out as your hips spasm underneath him, your ears are one of your most sensitive spots and he’s using it to his advantage.

“Chan, please,” you whisper, breathlessly.

“You don’t get to ask for anything tonight, sweet thing,” he says in a low voice, tracing his tongue around the shell of your ear. “You had your fun, now I get to have mine.”

Your hands at his shoulders clench into fists, balling up the material of his shirt underneath them, using this one point of contact to ground you. He takes your wrists and holds them with one hand. The other unbuckles his black leather belt, slipping it out of the belt loops of his pants. He wraps it delicately around your wrists, taking care to keep away from the cluster of nerves and tendons. He cinches it down, not too tight but definitely snug against your skin. You wiggle your fingers, reaching to touch him in any way you can, needing to feel as much of his body as possible.

“Ah-ah, no touching unless I say so,” he says, lifting your wrists and placing them behind the headrest of your seat. Your body is on display for him again, at his mercy.

A pathetic whine escapes you as he kneels down to the floor, slotting his body between your thighs and pulling you close to the edge of the seat, your arms still connected behind the headrest. His lips find yours again, gentler this time, as he presses his body into you, making you lean back while he trails wet kisses down to your chest. He tugs the top of your dress down roughly, pulling your breasts out from underneath the fabric. His plump lips wrap around one nipple, flicking his tongue back and forth on the sensitive bud as the other hand pinches the other. You arch your back into him with a whimper, rocking your hips into him, chasing any sort of friction to relieve the building tension in your core.

He sucks hard on your nipple before pulling it out of his mouth with a loud pop! He looks up at you from below, chuckling at your whimpers. “Feeling a bit needy tonight, sweet thing?” he murmurs with a dangerous edge to his voice.

“Mhmm,” you respond, failing to produce any words as he rolls your nipples under his fingers, watching you squirm.

“Good.”

His hands trail down your body to the hem of your dress, already pushed up far enough to see a peek of your panties. He drags his fingers down your thighs as he lowers his face down to your cunt. The sight of him between your legs, looking at you like he was going to happily devour you, makes you quiver. The throb of need throughout your body is strong, settling deep in your pelvis. You tilt your hips up towards him, begging silently as you bite down on your lip. Chan just laughs at you, hovering right above your panties, making sure you can feel his hot breath where you’re most sensitive, just out of reach.

“Sit still,” he says, a hushed command in his voice. You instantly freeze in place, attempting to be good to get him to touch you. He hovers for a moment before he obliges. His eyes lock with yours, slowly pressing his tongue flat against the wet spot that has soaked through the fabric. The small amount of pressure already has you panting. He groans into your cunt, the sound reverberates and makes you wriggle around, whimpering helplessly.

“God, you’re so wet already,” he murmurs, eyes fluttering shut. He’s lost in his own desire from just the taste of you. For a split second, he forgets the white-hot jealousy he felt from your little performance earlier. He leans back, opening his eyes and looks over you again; you blush under his intense gaze, feeling so vulnerable and so desperate for him.

Chan runs his hands up your thighs, slipping his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties and slides them down leisurely, making sure to take his time. You feel a burning trail left over every inch where he has touched your skin. He drags the fabric down to your ankles and has you step out of them, shoving the garment into his pocket. His hands hook behind your knees and shifts them towards your chest, your glistening cunt on full display in the low light of the car.

Sitting back on his heels, he pulls his phone out, aiming the camera at you. “Say cheese,” he teases, sticking his tongue between his teeth and giggling. You bite your lip again, whining at the hot bolt of embarrassment that shoots through you, eventually settling deep in your core, the muscles spasm with want.

Chan types out a quick message and hits send, his gaze lands on you again. His eyes are so dark, they’d be menacing if you didn’t know he was just as awash in lust as you.

“W-who’d you send that to?”

“You’ll find out later,” he purrs, flashing you a taunting smile.

His hands grip onto your legs once more. He caresses from the back your knees to your thighs, thumbs meeting on either side of your lips, massaging but not making contact with your clit yet. The indirect pressure squeezing your sensitive clit has you bucking into his hands.

After grinding into his touch, trying to chase any sort of real friction, he moves one of his thumbs and gingerly brushes over the swollen bundle of nerves, pressing gently into your clit without moving. It makes you yelp as you try to rub yourself against his thumb, but his other hand grasps at your hip, halting your movement.

“I thought I made it clear I was in control tonight,” he says, raising an eyebrow at you. “You’ll get as much as I want to give you.”

With that, he raises his hand, and slaps you right on your clit with a quick smack! Your whole body lurches forward, crying out, searing pain and pleasure mixing together as it rushes through your body. He lands three more slaps to your cunt, with each a lewd wet sound fills the cabin of the limo. Tears prick in your eyes as you blink, there’s a buzzing sensation building in your core.

“Fuck, you take that so well,” he grits out from his clenched jaw. Both of his arms hook around your thighs, holding your hips down, as he presses a feather light kiss against your wetness. He loves taking his time with you - the needier you get, the more he drags it out.

His phone rings in his pocket, and his eyes flash to yours, sin darkening his expression. He taps the button and holds it to his ear. You hear a tinny voice from the receiver say, “Hyung?”

“Look what you did to her, Ji. I don’t know whether to kill you or kiss you,” Chan says. “She’s so wet, her pussy is aching to be touched. Here, listen.”

Chan puts the phone on your lower stomach as his other hand languidly slips through your folds, still avoiding direct contact with your clit. You whine pitifully, trying to rut into his touch, slick noises fill the air again. He lands a few more wet slaps against your cunt again, each making you jolt and gasp at the sting.

Chan picks up the phone again.

“Hear that?”

“Y-yeah,” Jisung says shakily.

“Good listening skills. Let’s put them to the test,” Chan says, putting the phone on speaker and setting it down again on your chest.

“Ji….” You whimper.

“Y/n? Fffuck…” you hear him pant on the other end of the call.

“Don’t hang up, Jisung,” Chan grits out. “You’re going to listen to her while I make her cum. That’s what you wanted, right?”

There’s a groan on the other end of the phone. Your eyes widen, landing on Chan. His gaze softens for a moment, searching your face for any hesitation. You pull your lip between your teeth and give him a small nod. Immediately, his demeanor shifts back into the domineering lust from before. He lowers himself to your core once more, holding your thighs open while pressing them closer to your chest. Sticking his tongue out, he lets saliva drip down the tip directly onto your clit.

You take a deep shuddering breath, but it gets caught in your throat when Chan wraps his lips around your clit and sucks hard. You choke out a groan as your hips convulse underneath him. He’s ruthless with the slow, sedate pace of his tongue. His forearms come up to pin you in place while his fingers spread your folds open for more intense, direct contact to your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your face scrunches up, a string of expletives leaving your mouth between whimpers. The lazy speed with deliberate, precise pressure of his tongue is enough to keep you teetering on the edge of an orgasm but not enough to get you over the crest. It’s driving you insane, the way that he’s playing with you like this. Any time you try to tilt your hips towards his mouth for more pressure, he backs away, anticipating your movements.

On the phone laying on your chest, you hear Jisung panting in unison with you. He echoes you, heavy breathing and grunting whenever Chan hits a particularly sensitive spot. Chan brings you to the brink again, the coil in your lower belly about to snap through you, when he lifts his head.

“Can you hear this, Ji?” he says as he sinks a finger into you. You keen, your cunt sucking his fingers in eagerly. You nearly sob, wanting more, needing more, and Chan cruelly pushing you to the edge then denying you.

“M-more! Please, Chan,” you shudder out.

“More?” he asks, sliding another finger in slowly.

You sigh at the stretch, still frustrated with the slow pace, not caring anymore how fucked out you sound as you whine. “Please…”

“I don’t know…” Chan muses. “What do you think, Ji?”

Jisung moans on the phone, “Fuck yes, more,” he says with a quivering voice.

Chan pauses, catching your eyes as tears start to stream down your cheeks. “Well, if Ji says so.”

Immediately, he fucks into you faster, fingers thrusting into your heat, tongue batting around your neglected clit. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, barely breathing from the sudden change of pace. You feel that coil tightening again in your lower belly, all your muscles taut in anticipation. Chan is brutal with the rhythm, racing you towards an orgasm, back to that edge faster and faster.

When his fingers finally curl in that heavenly come-hither motion, the coil finally snaps. You scream, stars dancing in front of your eyes at the force of your orgasm as it pulses through you, fluttering your muscles around his fingers. Chan doesn’t stop, keeping up the intense pace of his tongue and his fingers, riding it out as long as he can. Your hips and legs are shaking. Your clit can’t take much more, the stimulation is too much. You writhe around trying to get away from his hand, but he doesn’t stop until you put a foot on his shoulder. He backs off, giving your clit one last kitten lick, making you convulse at even the lightest touch.

You slump back into the seat, trying to catch your breath, a thin sheen of sweat covers your entire body. You’re in a haze. The floaty feeling of trying to come back into your body buzzes in your ears. You barely notice when Chan picks up the phone from your chest.

“Did you catch all of that, Jisung?” Chan says, wiping your essence off of his chin.

A shuddering whisper of “fuck” comes from the receiver.

“You have ten minutes to be at my front door,” Chan says curtly. “...If you want another demonstration, that is.”

#skz smut #stray kids smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan smut #han jisung x reader #han jisung smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic

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lee-laurent · 17 days

Text

Crushin' - Quinn Hughes

Summary: Quinn's crush on Brock's sister starts to cause some issues

wc: 7.8k

content: fluff, angst, kissing, grinding, mentions of sex but no smut, friends with benefits

notes: hi! i'm like working through writers' block rn. so... here is this i guess

Emma Boeser, known to those close to her as Emmy, had always been fiercely independent. Growing up as Brock's younger sister meant that she was no stranger to the world of professional hockey, but she had long ago sworn off any romantic involvement with hockey players. The glitz and glamour that others saw were just distractions to her--hockey players were trouble, and she had learned that the hard way. Now, she focused on her career, determined to make a name for herself that wasn't tied to her brother and his achievements.

Emma had secured a role in the Canucks' PR and marketing department, a job that she actually enjoyed going to. She was good at it too--organizing press events, managing the team's public image, and navigating the chaos of media day with ease. Her colleagues respected her, and the players knew she was off-limits, a professional boundary she had enforced since day one (one that her brother was glad to back up).

Quinn Hughes, on the other hand, was everything a star defenceman could be--talented, dedicated, and just the right amount of cocky. He had quickly made himself a name in the NHL, and his focus had always been on the game. Off the ice, Quinn was reserved, not one to seek out the spotlight unless it was absolutely necessary. But there was one person who managed to catch his eye every time, no matter how hard he tried to stay focused on his career--Emma.

Quinn had noticed Emma from the moment she started working with the team. She was striking, not just because of her looks, but because of the way she carried herself. There was something about her confidence and no-nonsense attitude that drew him in, even if he couldn't quite figure out why. They'd had only a few friendly interactions, but Emma always kept things strictly professional.

It was after a team gala that their relationship shifted. Emma had been working late, ensuring everything ran smoothly. Quinn had stayed behind, nursing a drink as the event wound down. He noticed Emma, finally off the clock and enjoying a rare moment to herself. She looked relaxed, maybe a little tired, but still as composed as ever.

"Long night?" Quinn asked, leaning against the bar beside her.

Emma glanced at him, a small smirk tugging at her lips. "You could say that. But it's part of the job."

He nodded, studying her face. She was always so put together, always in control. "You did a great job tonight. Everything went off without a hitch."

"Thanks," Emma replied, raising her glass slightly. "But I'm sure you're not hanging around just to compliment the event planning."

Quinn chuckled, appreciating her directness. "Maybe not. I guess I was hoping to get to know you a bit more... off the clock."

Emma arched an eyebrow. "Off the clock?"

"Yeah," he said, meeting her gaze with a confidence he wasn't sure he really felt. "No work. Just us."

She considered him for a moment before downing the rest of her drink. "Alright, Hughes. But let's keep this simple. No strings, no drama. Just... fun."

He agreed without hesitation, not realizing at the time how much more complicated things would become.

Emma wasn't one to complicate things, especially when it came to her personal life. Her rule was simple: no dating hockey players. The lifestyle, the endless travel, the pressure--they were all things she wanted no part of. But when it came to Quinn, that line had blurred.

What started as a one-time thing after a team event quickly turned into a series of late-night encounters. It was easy, convenient, and, most importantly, private. Emma liked the control it gave her--she could have what she wanted without risking her independence or her brother's wrath. And Quinn? He played along, meeting her in the middle of the night, leaving before dawn, and never asking for more.

Their relationship was built on stolen moments. Sometimes it was at his apartment, other times hers, but always with the same unspoken agreement: no one could know. Emma was strict about that, even more so than Quinn. The idea of Brock finding out was enough to make her heart race--not from excitement, but from pure dread. She knew her brother would lose it if he found out she was hooking up with one his teammates, especially Quinn, who was practically family to him.

For Quinn, those nights with Emma were a mix of heaven and hell. Being with her, touching her, was everything he wanted. But every time she slipped out of his bed, leaving him alone in the dark, it tore at him. He wanted more--he wanted her in his life in a way that went beyond just the physical. But he also knew that pushing for more could mean losing her altogether, and that was a risk he wasn't sure he could take.

At work, Emma was the epitome of professionalism. She was efficient, focused, and kept a cool distance from the players, especially Quinn. In meetings, she barely looked his way, addressing him with the same detached tone she used with everyone else. It was as if the Quinn who whispered her name in the dark didn't exist during daylight hours.

Quinn noticed, of course. He noticed everything about Emma. The way she would set her jaw when she was stressed, the little lines that formed between her brows when she was deep in thought. He noticed how she avoided his gaze during team meetings, how she never lingered when passing by him in the halls. It was like she had put up a wall between them, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't break through.

It was frustrating, especially when Quinn would catch a glimpse of the Emma he knew--the one who laughed at his jokes and leaned into his touch when they were alone. But at work, she was distant, almost cold, and it gnawed at him. He found himself wanting to bridge the gap, to make her see that they didn't have to keep pretending.

One afternoon, after a long practice session, Quinn saw his chance. Emma was standing by the rink, talking to one of the other staff members. She was dressed in her usual work attire, her hair pulled back into a neat ponytail, and her expression serious as she discussed logistics for an upcoming event.

Quinn approached her, waiting until the other person had walked away before speaking. "Emmy, do you have a minute?"

Emma glanced at him, her eyes narrowing slightly as if to warn him to keep things professional. "What is it, Hughes?" she asked, her tone brisk.

He resisted the urge to sigh. "I just wanted to go over some of the plans for the charity event next week. Thought we could grab a coffee and talk it through."

She hesitated, glancing around to make sure no one was watching. "I'm pretty swamped right now," she said, already turning to look at the iPad in her hands. "But I'll email you the details later."

"Come on, Emmy," Quinn pressed, lowering his voice so only she could hear. "It's just coffee."

Emma shot him a look that was both annoyed and pleading. "We can't, Quinn. Not here."

The way she said his name sent a shiver down his spine, but it also made his chest tighten with frustration. "It doesn't have to be like this," he said quietly. "We don't have to pretend."

She shook her head, tucking the iPad under her arm. "Yes, we do. I told you, this is how it has to be. We agreed."

"Yeah, well, maybe I'm not okay with that anymore."

Emma froze, her eyes searching his face for a moment before she looked away. "Quinn, please. Not here."

The vulnerability in her voice was new, something she rarely let slip. It softened Quinn's resolve, but only just. He nodded, stepping back to give her space. "Alright," he forced a smile. "I'll see you later, then."

Emma didn't reply, turning back to her work as if the conversation had never happened. But the tension lingered, heavy in the air between them.

As the weeks passed, Quinn found it harder to ignore the growing feelings inside him. He was falling for Emma, and he knew it. It wasn't just about the physical connection anymore, though that was still a big part of it. It was about the way she challenged him, the way she made him laugh, and the way she kept him on his toes. She was different from anyone he'd ever been with, and he couldn't shake the feeling that she was exactly what he'd been looking for.

But the more he tried to let her in, the more she pulled away. Emma was stubborn, and Quinn was beginning to realize just how deep her fears ran. She had been hurt before--by a hockey player, no less--and she wasn't about to let that happen again. No matter how much she cared for Quinn, she couldn't bring herself to break her rule.

Quinn found himself torn between respecting her boundaries and wanting to push past them. Every time they were together, he tried to show her how much he cared, how much he wanted more than just sex. He'd hold her a little longer, kiss her a little softer, hoping she'd see that he wasn't like the others. But Emma was like a fortress, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find a way in.

One night, after a particularly grueling game, Quinn found himself lying awake in his bed, his mind racing. Emma had been distant lately, more so than usual, and it was driving him fucking crazy. He missed her, missed the way things used to be before his feelings got in the way. He knew he should be grateful for what they had, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was slowly losing her.

He picked up his phone, scrolling through their old messages. Most of them were short, simple texts about when and where to meet. But buried between the lines was a connection that went beyond just physical need. Quinn could see it, even if Emma refused to admit it.

Without thinking, he typed out a message: Can we talk?

He hesitated before hitting send, his thumb hovering over the screen. Part of him was terrified of what she might say, of hearing the words he didn't want to hear. But he couldn't keep going this like, stuck in a limbo with no idea where they stood.

Finally, he pressed send and waited. The minutes ticked by, each one feeling like an eternity. He stared at the screen, willing it to light up with her reply. When it finally did, his heart skipped a beat.

I'm busy right now. Maybe later?

Quinn's shoulders sagged, the tension in his chest only growing. It wasn't a no, but it wasn't the answer he wanted either. He knew Emma well enough to know that "maybe later" was her way of putting him off, of avoiding a conversation she didn't want to have.

But Quinn wasn't willing to let it slide this time. He needed to know where they stood, needed to know if there was any hope of something more.

I'll wait. he replied.

Emma didn't respond, and Quinn didn't expect her to. He set his phone down and stared at the ceiling, trying to figure out what he'd say when they finally did talk. Part of him knew he should be careful, that pushing too hard might drive her away for good. But another part of him--the part that was tired of pretending--was ready to take the risk.

As the hours passed by, Quinn's thoughts continued to circle back to Emma. He thought about the way she smiled when she let her guard down, the way she looked at him when she thought he wasn't paying attention. There was something there, somthing real, and Quinn was determined to make her see it.

When his phone finally buzzed with her reply, his heart raced. But when he read her message, his hope deflated.

Can we just keep things the way they are? I'm not ready for more, Quinn.

He stared at the words, feeling the weight of them settle in his chest. It was exactly what he feared, but hearing it--reading it--still hurt more than he expected.

Despite the sting, Quinn couldn't bring himself to walk away. To put his phone down. Not yet. He knew that if he wanted to be with Emma, he'd have to be patient, to wait for her to come to terms with her feelings. And as much as it pained him to do so, he respected her wishes.

Okay, he typed back. But I'm not giving up on us, Emmy

There was no response, but he didn't need one. He knew it was going to be a long road, but he was willing to wait as long as it took. Because for Emma, it was worth it.

It was another late night in Vancouver, and the city was quiet outside Quinn's window. The game had been tough, a hard-fought win that left him physically drained but mentally wired. Emma had come over, as she often did after games, slipping into his place with the practiced ease of someone who had done it a hundred times before. They hadn't said much--there wasn't a need for words when they both knew what they were there for.

But tonight felt different to Quinn. There was a tension in the air that he couldn't shake, a weight pressing down on his chest as they lay in bed afterward. Emma was curled up next to him, a dull ache in her thighs, her breathing slow and steady as she started to drift off to sleep. Normally, Quinn would have let her, content to hold her in his arms until she inevitably slipped away before dawn. But not tonight.

"Emma," he whispered, his voice low and hesitant.

"Mmm?" she murmured.

There would be no going back. The words were there, waiting to be said, and he couldn't keep them bottled up any longer. "Can we talk?"

Emma's eyes opened, and she shifted slightly to look up at him. "About what?" she asked, her voice thick with sleep.

"About us."

She frowned, already sensing where this was going. "Quinn, we've talked about this. You know how I feel."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "We haven't really talked about it. Not like we need to." He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Emma, this isn't just... physical for me anymore. It isn't just about the sex. I care about you. A lot."

Emma's frown deepened, and she pulled away slightly, sitting up in bed. "Quinn, don't--"

"Just listen to me, please," he interrupted, sitting up as well. He could see the walls going up, the defences she always put in place when things got too close. But he was determined to push through them this time. "I'm falling for you, Emma. I think I've been falling for you for a while now, and I can't keep pretending that I'm okay with this being just... whatever it is."

She stared at him, her expression filled with surprise and something else--something that looked a lot like fear. "Quinn, you know I can't--"

"Why not?" his voice raising with frustration. "Why can't we be something more? We're good together, Emma. I know you feel it to."

She shook her head, wrapping the sheet around herself as if it could protect her from the conversation. "It's not that simple, Quinn. You know it's not."

"It is that simple," he insisted, reaching out to take her hand. "We care about each other. We have fun together. The sex is incredible. We could have something real if you'd just let yourself believe it."

Emma's hand tightened around the sheet, and she looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "Quinn, I have rules for a reason."

"Rules?" Quinn scoffed, feeling his frustration boil over. "Emma, you're not living your life. You're hiding behind these 'rules' because you're scared."

She flinched at his words, but her expression hardened. "That's not fair."

"Isn't it?" Quinn pressed, his voice softening as he saw the hurt in her eyes. "Emma, I'm not trying to hurt you. I just... I want more. I want us to be more. But I can't do that alone."

There was a long silence, the air between them heavy with even more tension. Emma finally looked at him, her eyes filled with fear, doubt, and maybe longing. But then she shook her head, her walls returning.

"I can't, Quinn," she said quietly. "I'm not going to break my rules. Not for anyone."

Quinn's heart sank, but he forced himself to nod. He had known this was a possibility, that she might not be ready to take that leap with him. But hearing her say it still hurt more than he could've ever imagined. "Okay," he whispered. "I understand."

But the truth was, he didn't understand. Not really. Because he couldn't see why she was so determined to keep them apart when it was clear they could be so much more.

Emma could feel Quinn's words threatening to crack the carfeully constructed walls she had built around herself. She had always been so sure of her rules, so certain that she needed them to protect herself. But hearing Quinn say that he was falling for her, that he wanted more, made her question everything.

It wasn't that she didn't care about Quinn--she did. More than she had ever intended to when they first started sleeping together. But that was exactly the problem. Caring about Quinn meant opening herself up to the possibility of getting hurt, and that was something she couldn't afford.

"Quinn," she began, choosing her words very carefully. "I made those rules for a reason. I've seen what happens when you get involved with hockey players. The lifestyle, the pressure--it's not something I want stacked on top of my own work."

He frowned, clearly not satsified with her explanation. "But I'm not like that, Emma. I'm not just some random guy looking for a fling. I want to be with you, for real. Why can't you see that?"

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I do see it, Quinn. But that doesn't change the fact that it's a bad idea. We're too close to Brock, too close to the team. If things go wrong--"

"They won't," his tone was firm. "I know it's scary, but we can make it work. We can take it slow, keep it private if you want, but I can't keep pretending this is just about sex."

Emma bit her lip, her mind running a mile a minute. She knew he was right, that what they had was more than just physical. But admitting that, giving in to it, felt like stepping off a cliff with no idea if there was anything there to catch her. She had promised herself she wouldn't get involved with a hockey player again, and yet here she was, teetering on the edge.

"I can't," she said again, shaking her head. "Quinn, I can't risk it. I'm sorry."

The words felt hollow, even to her, but she couldn't bring herself to say anything else. She looked at him, hoping he would understand, but the hurt in his eyes told her that he didn't. Or maybe he did, but he wasn't willing to accept it.

"Fine," Quinn said, his voice flat. "If that's how you really feel, then fine."

He moved to get out of bed, grabbing his clothes from the floor. Emma watched him, her heart aching at the sight of him pulling away. She wanted to reach out, to tell him she was sorry, that she didn't mean it. But the words stuck in her throat, choked by fear and doubt.

Quinn dressed quickly, avoiding her gaze as he headed for the door. Emma felt a surge of panic as she realized he was really leaving, that his might be the end of whatever they had. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but the door was already closing behind him before she could find the words.

And just like that, he was gone.

Emma sat in the empty room, the silence keeping her stuck in her spot. The bed still smelled like him, a painful reminder of what she had just pushed away. She curled up into a ball, pulling the sheets around her as if they could somehow shield her from the reality of what had just happened.

She had been so certain she was doing the right thing, sticking to her rules and protecting herself. But now, with Quinn gone, all she felt was an overwhelming sense of loss. She had never let herself get this close to anyone before, not since the last time she had been burned by a hockey player. But Quinn... he was different. And that was what made this so much harder.

The tears came before she could stop them, spilling down her cheeks as she buried her face in the pillow. She had told herself that she didn't need anyone, that she was better off alone. But now, she wasn't so sure.

Meanwhile, Quinn was walking the streets of Vancouver, the cold night doing little to cool the fire of frustration and hurt burning in his chest. He had laid his heart on the line, told Emma how he really felt, and she had shut him down. He knew she was scared, that her rules were her way of protecting herself, but it didn't make it any easier to swallow.

He kicked at a loose piece of gravel on the sidewalk, watching as it skittered across the pavement. He wanted to be angry, to blame her for being so stubborn, so unwilling to let him in. But deep down, he knew that wasn't fair. Emma had been through a lot, and her fears were valid. But that didn't change the fact that he was hurting, that he wanted more from her than she was willing to give.

Quinn found himself at a small park, the trees bare and the benches empty in the late hour. He sat down, his head in his hands as he tried to sort through all the feelings in his head. He had never felt like this before--so out of control, so vulnerable. And it scared the hell out of him.

But what scared him even more was the thought of losing Emma. He knew she cared about him. There was something between them. Something worth fighting for.

As he sat there in the dark, he made a decision. He wasn't going to give up on Emma, no matter how hard she pushed him away. He knew it was risky, that he might get hurt in the process, but he also knew that it would be worth it. Emma was worth it.

He stood up, heading back to his apartment. He wasn't going to let her fear dictate their future. He would give her space if she needed it, but he wasn't going to walk away. Not yet.

Because sometimes, the best things in life were worth fighting for. And Quinn was ready to fight.

The Canucks were on the road again, heading into a critical stretch of the season. This time, they were in a small city with a reputation for rowdy fans and intense games. The hotel was nice enough, but the schedule was grueling, leaving the players and staff little time to do anything but eat, sleep, and prepare for the next match.

Emma was there, of course, coordinating PR events and managing the team's image as she always did. She was good at her job--meticulous, organized, and (usually) calm under pressure. But this trip felt different. Ever since the conversation with Quinn a few weeks ago, she'd been on edge, constantly looking over her shoulder, half-expecting him to show up and push her again.

She'd managed to avoid him for the most part, keeping their interactions strictly professional. But then tension between them was palpable, simmering just beneath the surface. Emma threw herself into her work, hoping to distract herself from the nagging thoughts that kept creeeping in whenever she allowed herself a moment to breathe.

That night, after a long day, Emma retreated to her hotel room, exhausted. The PR duties had been endless, and she was looking forward to nothing more than a hot shower and collapsing into bed. She had just slipped into her pajamas, an XL Canucks t-shirt, when there was a knock at her door.

It was late--too late for any of the players or staff to be knocking at her door for work-related matters. For a brief moment, she considered not answering, pretending she was already asleep. But something compelled her to go to the door, her hand hovering over the handle as she took a deep breath.

When she opened the door, her heart sank and fluttered at the same time. Quinn stood there, dressed in a hoodie and sweats, his hands shoved in his pockets. His expression determined and vulnerable, and for a moment, she was at a loss of words.

"Quinn, what are you doing here?" she whispered.

"I had to see you," he replied, his voice steady. "Can I come in?"

Emma hesitated, glancing down the hallway to make sure no one was around. The last thing she needed was for someone to see them together like this. "Q, it's late. We can't do this here."

"I know it's late, but I don't care," he said, taking a step closer. "Emma, please. Just... let me in. We need to talk."

There was something in his eyes that made it impossible to say no. With a resigned sigh, she stepped aside, allowing him to slip into the room. The door clicked shut behind them, the sound loud in the quiet night.

Quinn didn't waste any time. As soon as they were alone, he turned to face her, his face serious. "I can't keep doing this, Emma. I can't keep pretending I'm okay with the way thing are."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "We've talked about this, Quinn. You know where I stand."

"No, we haven't really talked about it," he countered. "You've told me how you feel, but you haven't listened to how I feel."

Emma looked away, unable to meet his gaze. She knew what was coming next, "Quinn, please. Don't do this."

"I have to," he said. "Emma, I'm in love with you. And I can't keep pretending that I'm okay with this just being sex. Because it's not, at least not to me."

The words hit her like a punch to the gut, winding her and leaving her breathless. She had known this was coming, had seen it in the way he looked at her, the way he touched her. But hearing him say it out loud made it real in a way she wasn't prepared for.

"Quinn..." she began, but he shook his head, cutting her off.

"No, just listen to me," he pleaded. "I know you're scared. I know you've been hurt before, and I know you've made these rules to protect yourself. But Emma, you can't shut yourself off from the world forever. You can't yourself off from me."

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she blinked them back, determined not to let them fall. "It's not that simple."

"Yes, it is," he insisted, stepping even closer until he was right in front of her, his hand reaching out to cup her cheek. "It is that simple. We care about each other. We have something real. Don't you want to see where this could go?"

Emma closed her eyes, leaning into his touch despite herself. "I'm scared, Quinn. I'm scared that if I let you in, I'll get hurt again."

"You won't," he whispered, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that had slipped down her cheek. "I'm not going to hurt you, Emma. I promise you."

The dam broke. All the emotions Emma had been bottling up for months came flooding out in a rush. She let out a choked sob, her hands gripping the front of Quinn's hoodie as she buried her face in his chest. "I don't know how to do this," she admitted, her voice muffled by the fabric.

Quinn wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly as she cried. "You don't have to know. We'll figure it out together."

For a long time, they stood there, wrapped in each other's arms as Emma let herself be vulnerable for the first time in years. It felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off her shoulders, but at the same time, she was terrified of what was to come next.

Finally, she pulled back just enough to look up at him, her eyes red and puffy from crying. "I don't want to lose you, Q. But I don't know if I can do this."

"You can," he assured her, his hand gently carressing her hair. "We'll take it one step at a time. I'm not going anywhere, Emmy. Not unless you tell me to."

She shook her head, her grip on his hoodie tightening. "I don't want you to go."

"Then I'm staying," he said, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her forehead.

The kiss was tender, a promise of what was to come if she could just let go of her fears. Emma felt something shift inside her, a crack in the armour she'd built around her heart. She looked up at Quinn, her heart pounding in her chest as she realized how much she wanted this--wanted him.

Without another word, she closed the distance between them, pressing her lips to his in a kiss that was different from all the ones that had come before. This one was slow, deliberate, filled with all the emotions they'd been holding back. It wasn't about lust or need--it was about something deeper, something that scared her just as much as it thrilled her.

Quinn responded immediately, his arms tightening around her as he kissed her back with the same intensity. The world outside ceased to exist; all that mattered was the two of them, alone in the quiet of the hotel room.

They moved together in perfect sync, their movements slower, more meaningful than before. It was as if they were discovering each other all over again, but this time with their hearts fully in it. Quinn laid her back on the bed, his hands reaching under her shirt. She shivered, his skin cold against hers. She gripped his hair, bringing his body closer to hers so that their hips were pressed together. There was no rush, everything felt slow and loving.

As they lay together afterward, their breaths heavy in the air, Emma felt a peace she hadn't felt in years. For the first time, she felt hope that a relationship could work for her. As she drifted off to sleep in his arms, her mind still buzzing with the emotions of the night, there was a small part of her that couldn't shake the fear of what was to happen next.

The soft light of the morning filtered through the thin curtains of the hotel room. Emma stirred in her sleep, the events of the night before replaying in her mind as she hovered between dreams and waking. She could feel the steady rise and fall of Quinn's chest, his arm draped protectively around her waist.

For a moment, everything felt perfect. Peaceful. But then she remembered that it wasn't just another night together. This time it was more intense, more meaningful. Emma knew she couldn't pretend it was just a casual hookup anymore.

Quinn was awake, too, his fingers gently tracing patterns on her back. He didn't want to move, didn't want to ruin the moment they were sharing. But he knew they couldn't stay like that forever. Sooner or later, they'd have to face the consequences of what they had become, and that thought terrified him.

"Morning," he whispered.

Emma tilted her head up to look at him, her eyes still heavy with sleep. "Morning," she replied, her voice barely audible.

They stayed like that for a while, just looking at each other, neither one wanting to be the first to speak about how things had changed between them.

"What happens now?" Emma finally asked, her voice wavering slightly.

Quinn hesitated, searching her eyes for any sign of doubt. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I do know that I don't want this to be the last time we wake up like this."

"I don't know if I'm ready for that," she confessed, her fingers absently tracing the outline of his collarbone.

"I know," Quinn said, his voice gentle. "But I'm not asking for you to be ready right now. I'm just asking you to think about it. To think about us."

Emma didn't respond right away. She wanted to believe they could make it work, that they could be more than just a secret. But the reality of their situation--of Brock, the team, and her own fears--loomed over her like a storm cloud.

Before she could find the words to respond, a sharp knock echoed through the room, shattering the moment of quiet intimacy. They both froze, their eyes locking as the sound registered in their tired brains.

"Emma?" Brock's voice called from the other side of the door. "You up?"

Panic surged through Emma's veins as she scrambled to sit up. This couldn't be happening. Not now. Not like this.

Quinn's eyes widened in alarm, his hand gripping the sheets as if to make sure he wasn't dreaming. "What do we do?" his whispered urgently.

"Shit," she cursed under her breath, her heart pounding in her chest. "You need to hide."

"Where?" he hissed, his eyes darting around the small hotel room. There was nowhere to go, nowhere that wouldn't immediately give him away.

"Just--" Emma was cut off by another knock, this one more insistent.

"Emma, you in there?" Brock's voice was more concerned now.

Her mind was racing, trying to come up with a plan. But before she could do anything, the door handle began to turn. Brock was coming in. Emma always gave him an extra key to use in case of emergencies. And her not answering him was an emergency in his mind?

Quinn barely had time to leap out of the bed, grabbing his clothes and diving into the bathroom just as the door opened. Emma could feel her heart in her throat as she watched him disappear, her pulse pounding in her ears.

Brock stepped into the room, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Em, what's going on? Why didn't you answer?"

Emma forced a smile, suddenly feeling like she was going to be sick. "Sorry, Brock. I was just getting up," she lied, pulling the covers a little tighter to her chest.

Brock's eyes narrowed, his gaze sweeping over the room before landing back on his sister. "Are you okay? You look... I don't know, off."

"I'm fine," she replied quickly, hoping her voice didn't betray the panic she felt. "Just tired, that's all."

Brock didn't look convinced, but before he could press any further, a loud clatter came from the bathroom. The sound of something falling, followed by a muffled curse.

Emma's blood ran cold as Brock's head snapped toward the bathroom door so fast he could've gotten whiplash. "What was that?" his voice was twinged with suspicion.

Her wind went blank, all possible excuses failing her. She couldn't come up with a single plausible explanation for the noise. All she could do was watch in horror as Brock took a step towards the bathroom door.

"Brock, wait--"

But it was too late. He was already pushing the bathroom door open, his eyes widening in shock as he took in the sight before him. Quinn stood there, half-dressed, his face covered in guilt and resignation. He had clearly tried to get dressed quickly, but it obvious what had happened. There was no hiding it now.

"Quinn?" Brock's voice was low, dangerous, as he turned to look at his sister, his eyes blazing with anger. "What the hell is going on here?"

This was exactly what Emma had been trying to avoid, the confrontation she dreaded from the moment she and Quinn had started whatever it was they were doing.

"Brock, I--" she began, but Brock cut her off, his voice rising with anger.

"How long has this been going on?" he demanded, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "How long have you been sneaking around behind my back? Sleeping with my teammate?"

"Brock, it's not what you think," Quinn interjected, stepping forward, his hands raised as if he was approaching a wild beast.

"Not what I think?" Brock's eyes darted between the two of them. "What am I supposed to think, Quinn? You're in my sister's hotel room, half-naked, and you expect me to believe this is just a misunderstanding?"

Emma couldn't help the sense of guilt that was creeping in when she saw the hurt in her brother's eyes. This wasn't how she wanted him to find out, not like this. But there was no taking it back now, no undoing the mess they had created.

"Brock, listen to me," she started. "I didn't want to tell you because I knew you'd react like this. But it's not Quinn's fault. It's mine. I... I care about him a lot."

Brock's anger faltered, replaced by confusion. "You care about him? Emma, you've always said you'd never date a hockey player again. You've always told me--"

"I know what I've always said," Emma interrupted. "But things change. People change. I didn't expect this to happen, but it did. And I didn't tell you because I was scared of how you'd react."

Brock stared at her, "You should have told me, Em. You're my sister. I deserve to know what's going on in your life.

"I know," she mumbled, tears welling in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Brock. I never wanted to hurt you."

The room was silent for a long moment, then tension in the air thick. Quinn stood by the bathroom door, his heart heavy as he watched the siblings. He knew this wasn't giong to be an easy conversation, but it was necessary if he and Emma were going to have a chance of being together. They had to face this head-on.

"I just... I can't believe you didn't tell me," Brock said quietly, his voice tinged with sadness.

"I'm telling you now," Emma said softly. "And I'm telling you that I care about Quinn. This isn't just us hooking up. It's something more."

"You really care about him?"

"I do, Brock. I really do."

Brock glanced at Quinn, who stood there with a look of determination on his face. It was clear that he wasn't going to back down, that he was ready to fight for Emma if that's what it took. And as much as it pained him, Brock knew he couldn't stand in the way of that.

"Alright. But if he hurts you, Emma... if he breaks your heart, I swear--"

"He won't," she interrupted, "He won't."

Brock nodded, "Okay. But you two owe me an explanation. The whole story."

"We will," Quinn promised. "You deserve that."

Brock turned to leave, to give them some space. They had made it through the worst of it, but there was still so much unsaid, so many obstacles they would have to overcome.

The morning after Brock's discovery, there was still a tension in the air. The team was scheduled to leave the hotel soon, and Emma could feel the unease radiating from Brock as they packed up their things.

Brock waited until they were in the parking lot, away from the rest of the team, before he turned to Quinn. "We need to talk."

Quinn nodded, "Yeah, we do."

They walked a few steps away from the bus, finding a quiet corner where they wouldn't be overheard. Emma watched from a distance, she could see the stiffness in Brock's shoulders.

"What the hell, Quinn? You're supposed to be my friend. How could you go behind my back like this?"

Quinn swallowed hard, knowing that Brock had every right to be angry. "I didn't mean for it to happen this way. I never wanted to keep it from you, but Emma... we weren't really sure where we stood. I was trying to respect her wishes."

Brock let out a harsh laugh, shaking his head. "Respect her wishes? You're supposed to respect me, too. I trusted you, Quinn."

"I know. And I'm sorry. I hate that I hurt you, Brock. But I care about Emma. I care about her more than I've ever cared about anyone."

"This isn't just some fling to you, is it?"

"No. It's not. I know how it looks, and I know why you're pissed. But Emma means everything to me. I'm not going to hurt her, Brock. I swear."

Quinn could see the conflict in his friend's eyes, the way he was struggling to reconcile the betrayal he felt with the truth of Quinn's words. Finally, Brock let out a long sigh, ruunning a hand through his hair.

"I'm still mad as hell at you. But if you're serious about her... if you really care about her, then I guess I don't have a choice but to deal with it."

"I am serious, Brock. And I get why you're angry. But I promise you, I'm going to do everything I can to make this work."

"You better. Because if you screw this up, Hughes... if you hurt her, I'm coming for you. And nothing will stop me."

Quinn didn't flinch at the warning, understanding the protective instincts behind it. "I won't hurt her. You have my word."

Brock didn't say anything for a few seconds, then finally extended his hand. "Alright. We'll see how this goes."

Quinn shook his hand. It wasn't a full reconciliation, but it was a start.

Emma sat by the window on the back of the bus. The conversation between Brock and Quinn had gone better than she'd expected. Now, more than ever, she needed to decide what she really wanted.

As the bus rumbled down the highway, Emma continued to stare out the window, her mind drifting back to all the events that had led her there. She thought about the walls she had built around herself, the rules she had clung onto so tightly. They had been her armour, her way of protecting herself from getting hurt again. But now, she was starting to realize that those same walls were keeping her from something she truly wanted--something real with Quinn.

But could she really risk everything for him? Could she trust him not to break her heart, not to shatter her into pieces like she'd been before?

She thought about the way he had held her in the hotel room, the way he had looked at her with such sincerity, such unwavering care. He had been patient with her, understanding her fears even when she hadn't fully explained them. He had been willing to wait, to take things at her pace, and that meant more to her than she could express.

Emma knew that she couldn't keep running from her feelings, couldn't keep hiding behind her rules. If she wanted to be happy, really happy, she needed to take a leap of faith. She needed to let Quinn in, to trust that he would catch her if she fell.

She made her decision. She was going to give Quinn Hughes a real chance. It wouldn't be easy, but she was tired of being afraid, tired of letting the past dictate her future.

After they arrived at the next hotel, Emma waited until most of the team had gone up to their rooms before she approached Quinn. He was standing by the luggage cart, talking to one of the staff members, but when he saw her coming, he broke off the conversation, his eyes locking onto hers.

"Emma? Everything okay?"

She nodded, "Can we talk?"

"Of course. What's on your mind?"

Emma led him away from the group, finding a quiet spot near the hotel's entrance. "I've been doing a lot of thinking. And I've realized something."

Quinn nodded, urging her to continue.

"I've been scared. Scared of getting hurt again, scared of what might happen if I let someone in. But... I don't want to be scared anymore."

His eyes softened, and he took a step closer, reaching out to gently untangle her hands, holding them in his. "Emma..."

"I want to give us a chance, Quinn. A real chance. No more hiding, no more pretending it's just physical. I want to see where this can go."

Quinn's face lit up with a smile. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to hear you say that." He squeezed her hands, his thumbs brushing over her knuckles. "I promise you, Emma, I'm all in. Whatever it takes, we'll make this work."

Quinn leaned down to kiss her, a soft, tender kiss that held all the promises of the future they could create together. Emma knew she had made the right choice. She was taking a risk, but it was a risk worth taking.

Later that evening, as the team gathered for dinner, Brock found himself watching Emma and Quinn across the room. They were sitting together, not hiding their connection but not flaunting it either. He could see the way Quinn's hand rested protectively on Emma's knee, the way Emma leaned into him, a soft smile on her face.

He could see how much Quinn cared about his sister, how much Emma softened around him. It was becoming glaringly clear to him that this wasn't just some fling, that they were both very serious about making it work.

Brock let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. He wasn't sure he was ready to fully forgive them, but he knew that he couldn't stand in the way of their happiness. If this is what Emma wanted, if this was what made her happy, then he would find a way to be okay with it.

He caught Quinn's eye from across the room, and for a moment, they just looked at each other. Then, slowly, Brock gave him a slight nod, a silent acknowledgment of the understanding they had reached earlier.

Quinn returned the nod. And as Brock watched Emma laugh at something Quinn said, her face lighting up in a way he hadn't seen in years, he realized that maybe, just maybe, this was exactly what she needed.

#lee talks ‼️#nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #quinn hughes

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dqrciedaily · 2 months

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oblivious, m. cheli x sophmore!reader

a/n: lowkey kinda nervy to post this! but since it’s the woso off season i’ve decided to branch to wbb because morgan is number one loml rn

morgan cheli had never been so frustrated with her own feelings until she met you. she was used to many things not going her way, or anxiety filled bus rides before games. but nothing prepared her for the challenge of having a massive crush on the most oblivious person to walk this planet.

you were everything morgan admired: confident, talented, a natural leader on the court. as a sophomore, you had very quickly became one of the team leaders throughout the last season, and morgan had fallen for you almost instantly. the slight problem? you were completely oblivious to her feelings, mistaking all her gestures of affection for simple acts of friendship.

it started off with waiting. after practice, gym, dinner, anything. morgan always lingered near the exit, always ready to walk with you back to the wherever you were headed next. no matter how long you took to finish your ridiculously long post-practice routine or if morgan needed to walk in the other direction. she was there, waiting, everytime.

one day, as the two of you left the gym together, you glanced over. “you’re always so patient, you’re gonna fit in great here. i can tell!”

morgan shrugged, trying to act nonchalant, even though the simple compliment sent her mind into overdrive.

“seriously, i mean it,” you replied before walking inside your apartment building. morgan who had walked the whole way with you, had to turn back and walk “the walk of shame” as jana would call it, back to the main building where everyone else was.

then there was flowers. morgan had picked out a bright bouquet of daisies, after a particularly tough practice. she presented them to you with a bashful smile.

“these are for you. i just thought they’d brighten your day.”

the girls who were nearby snickered at the innocent gesture as you beamed at her, eyes lighting up with delight. “aww morgan! thank you! you’re such a sweet friend.”

morgan’s heart sank a little but she nodded, hiding her disappointment behind a smile.

you gently took the flowers out her hand, gave her a hug before walking off, bag in hand flowers in the other.

morgan watched in confusion as you walked off, she thought she was being a lot more obvious this time. paige patted her on the back in faux sympathy.

finally, there were the late night chats.

you often didn’t get involved in the tiktok lives, rather watching from the couch and laughing at everyone.

morgan usually would be apart of the lives but rather chose to sit on the couch with you instead.

“you also not feeling the live tonight?” she questioned trying to start a conversation.

you grinned before answering “i never join the lives, the comments annoy me and i can never read them quick enough, bloody irritating if you ask me!”

the conversation then flowed, the two of you completely oblivious to the others animatedly talking to the live, doing… whatever they do on lives.

that night when you got back to your apartment, you facetimed azzi, who you’d gotten super close to the past year.

she instantly accepted the call as she sat with paige on the couch “what’s up?”

“i think i like morgan… like a lot” you mumble

#darcie’s drabbles #wbb x reader #morgan cheli #morgan cheli x reader #uconn wbb #women’s basketball

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amourtoken · 2 months

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It seems yall want me to elaborate on the "fucking wolf cut Noah in some sketchy venue bathroom" thing so I will lol and just pretend the timeline is right OK let me live my shitty little fantasy won't u

♡ Can't help but imagine it's right around when Bad Omens started yk they weren't playing the huge shows they are now they were going literally anywhere they could and that definitely lead to some less than savory locations. REGARDLESS you're gonna show up for Noah and the boys, they're great friends of yours and it doesn't matter where they're playing, you're endlessly happy to see them performing.

You'd driven well over 2 hours to be here tonight and you're literally in the middle of nowhere but the crowd seems really energetic even though there's probably 100-200 people there rn max cause of how small the place is. There were a couple other relatively small groups playing tonight as well so Bad Omens had a bit of free time before their set, how did Noah choose to spend this free time? Burying himself in your pussy while you're sat on a dingy bathroom counter ofc.

♡ maybe it's the nerves maybe it's the opposite he just needed to take this excess energy out somewhere and when he saw you in that cute dress he really couldn't help himself he needed to see it pushed up to your hips while your legs were around his waist so bad. He's got one hand bracing himself against the mirror that lines the whole wall behind the sink and the other is holding your jaw steady so he can kiss you while rocking his hips into yours. It's not even coordinated, it's a mess of spit and teeth but he's just happy your lips are brushing his tbh, he'll catch your bottom lip w his teeth on occasion and his cock throbs at the sweet whine it draws out of you.

♡ his pace picks up and so does the force behind his thrusts. He pulls you closer to the edge of the counter and at this point he's mostly supporting your weight himself but at this angle he can fill you so much deeper. It feels like he's stealing the air from your lungs every time his tip slams against your poor cervix. The music outside the bathroom is loud but if someone were right next to the door they'd surely hear you whimpering and crying Noah's name, which drives him to fuck you even harder cause he doesn't give a fuck if everyone in this venue hears you, he needs them to know who you belong to as if the cum that'll be dripping down your legs when he's finished or the dark hickeys he covered your neck in weren't enough. He may as well brand you at this point.

You were bracing your hands on the edge of the counter to keep yourself steady but when he drug you to the edge and started supporting you himself you threw your arms around his neck, whining right against his ear when he hit that sensitive spot that made your legs shake. He shifts again to pick you up entirely, bouncing you on his cock damn near effortlessly like you were just a toy for him. You tightened your arms around his neck and he laughed against your ear.

"I got you baby I'm not gonna drop you- fuck- I promise"

♡ his hands on your ass holding you up end up spreading you wider and he's drilling you so deep any sounds that manage to leave your throat are broken and pathetic. Your brain feels so fuzzy all you can think about is him, how he feels, how he tastes, how he sounds, nothing else dares cross your mind. The coil in your belly is so close to snapping and you almost wish it wouldn't so you could enjoy the moment with Noah longer but fuck when his nails sink into your ass and he takes a step to press your back against the wall while he's fucking you, you can't hang onto it much longer. He can tell.

"Fuck- so fuckin' tight for me baby, gonna cum? Yeah I know- shit- cum for me please- fuck, please-"

"I'm close too- need to feel you first-"

By now he's almost as incoherent as you are, just chasing pleasure and acting like you two are the only people on earth. You're so close tears are pricking your eyes and Noah pulls you in for another sloppy kiss while he grinds himself into you, the feeling of his hips against yours and your clit brushing his lower stomach throw you over the edge violently. You're shaking and twitching in his arms and he's holding you steady against the wall even though his rhythm is starting to falter and his moans are pitching up.

♡ he slams you down onto his dick when he finally spills inside you, stifling the unhinged noises by sinking his teeth into your neck and rutting into you until all the excess cum is dripping out of you and onto the floor below Noah's feet. Once he feels steady enough he'll set you back down on the counter and pull out, leaving you feeling pathetically empty. You don't trust your legs to hold you up yet and you're leaning against Noah for support still, arms loosely around his waist while your face is against his chest and his head is resting on top of yours. He'd stay like this forever if he could but Bad Omens is up next and by now everyone's looking for him.

Noah pulls you in for another kiss, this time softer but still just as passionate, and he apologizes for not being able to spend more time in here with you. He pinkie promises to fuck you right next time, somewhere more comfy, before he kisses you on the forehead and leaves the bathroom to catch up with the rest of the band before they go on.

#Nowah #noah sebastian smut

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sapphire-writes · 1 year

Text

Faking It ~ modern!Aemond x Reader

summary: You and Aemond decide to fake date in order to make your exes jealous.

word count: 4.8k

note: a request fulfilled for the lovely @oneeyedvisenya! Rae, I remember you were one of the first blogs I admired and I remember squealing with joy when you interacted and followed me and now we're bestie ilysm I'll cry rn. I hope you enjoy 🩷

rating: Explicit (see more descriptive warnings under the cut)

warnings: p in v, fingering, titty sucking, choking, degradation, slight praise

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” Aegon asks, frowning as you take your shot.

You glare at him before signaling to the bartender you’d like another. You’re going to need a lot of tequila to get through tonight. You’d come to your favorite club after another horrible week. The world just seemed to be against you.

“Don’t say panties to me, you sound like a pervert,” you tell him, causing Aegon to chuckle.

“Your undergarments then,” Aegon decides, bumping his shoulder against yours, “your lingerie.”

“That’s even worse,” you tell him, sucking the juice from your lime.

“It can’t be Qyle again, please,” Aegon says groaning.

You bite your lip. You hadn’t expected to see your ex-boyfriend out, he always used to tell you he hated going to bars or clubs. Yet, here he was with his mates for a night on the town, effectively ruining yours.

“You need to get laid, I’m saying that as your friend,” Aegon tells you, clasping a hand on your shoulder.

“Very funny,” you tell him.

“I’m serious. I’m always down if you need a body, just as friends,” he teases.

You’ve hooked up with Aegon before. A long time ago in the grand scheme of things. You’ve always been better as best friends. You’d been nearly inseparable since your days at university.

“You’re too kind,” you tell him, scrunching your nose at the offer.

“You’re a great shag,” he continues.

Aegon furrows his brow suddenly, placing a hand under his chin as though he’s lost in thought.

“I still don’t know how you get your leg-”

“Aegon!” you say, putting your hand over his mouth to stop him from continuing.

Aemond saddles up on the other side of Aegon, trying to get the bartender’s attention. He barely pays him any mind as he places another shot in front of you before moving to the other side of the bar to attend to other patrons. Aemond sighs, a low growl releasing from deep within his chest.

Aegon’s frown deepens at his brother’s appearance.

“What’s your problem?” he asks his brother.

The bartender returns for Aemond’s order before dashing away to retrieve your shot.

“Nothing,” Aemond says, though his sulking says otherwise.

As the bartender returns with Aemond’s drink and your shot, you dash some salt on the back of your hand, licking it up before downing the tequila. Aegon glances between you and Aemond, as Aemond sips his old-fashioned and you squeeze the juice from your second lime onto your tongue, trying to get rid of the burn of cheap tequila spreading down your throat.

“Well, as much fun as you grumps are, I’m going to go see Jace,” Aegon says, clasping a hand on your back before moving to leave.

You sigh running a hand through your hair before awkwardly glancing at Aemond. You’ve never really interacted with him much before. Sure, he was your best friend’s brother, but you’re in totally different social circles. Aemond meets your eye, glancing at you sideways. You both stay silent for a moment, unsure of what to do now that Aegon has left.

“So,” you both say simultaneously.

You give him an awkward, nervous giggle. Aemond smiles tightly, nodding for you to continue.

“So…what’s up?” you ask, nodding your head to the beat of the music that blares from the speakers.

“Not much,” Aemond says, leaning against the bar, “What’s got you upset?”

“I’m not upset,” you answer a bit too quickly, a bit too defensively.

Aemond raises an eyebrow at you, turning so his whole profile faces you. You try not to stare at the scar that runs down his face; through his eyebrow, split only by the sapphire blue prosthetic that sparkles in the low lights. You swallow the lump beginning to form in your throat.

“Sorry, yeah I’m a bit upset I guess,” you tell him, “My ex is here. We literally just broke up a couple of weeks ago and yet here he is, drowning in a sea of horny women.”

You click your tongue in annoyance at your confession. For some reason, you feel compelled to continue speaking.

“I guess I shouldn’t be upset though, right? I mean we are broken up but it’s like, the principle of it I guess? We were together a while, you don’t see me just jumping onto someone-”

“Why not?” Aemond interrupts your rambling.

Your lips part slightly, brows knitting together at his rude interruption.

“Why not what?”

“Why not get with someone?” Aemond asks, sipping his drink.

“Did you miss the part where I just got out of a relationship?” you ask him, tilting your head to the side.

“Well that certainly doesn’t seem to matter to him,” Aemond tells you.

You frown, crossing your arms.

“Gee, thanks for that,” you tell him, before moving to leave the bar.

You’ve got to find Aegon, tell him what a shitdick his brother is. Aemond follows close behind as you begin to walk into the crowd.

“Hey! Shit, wait, I’m sorry,” Aemond says to you.

You barely look back, before he tugs on your arm and you turn to face him. You roll your eyes as you do so.

“See, look over there,” Aemond says, jutting his chin to the left.

You follow where he motioned, eyes landing on a beautiful dark-haired girl clad in a black bodycon dress, seated on the lap of some golden-haired guy.

“That’s Floris, my ex-girlfriend,” Aemond tells you, leaning down so he can speak directly in your ear, “We just broke up a couple of months ago. I get it.”

You watch Floris laugh and twirl a strand of hair around a delicate finger. You wonder if Aemond feels the same pain you do when you’re watching Qyle with someone else. A glance at his expression answers your question.

“It’s rough,” you tell him, nodding.

“The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else,” Aemond muses.

You snort, shaking your head.

“You sound like Aegon,” you playfully accuse.

“Yeah, I’m quoting him,” he admits, causing you to laugh.

You continue giggling, a mixture of alcohol and the ridiculousness of your ex causing you to feel like your sanity is slowly slipping away from you. You groan loudly and Aemond tears his gaze from Floris, to look down at you.

“Fuck I don’t know how to do this anymore,” you groan, “I just wish there was a way to make him regret it, without actually having to begin tragically scouting dating apps again.”

You shake your head but an idea suddenly pops into Aemond’s head.

“Maybe there is a way,” he says suddenly.

“Don’t tempt me,” you tell him but he shakes his head.

“I mean it,” he tells you, “What if you and I pretend to date.”

“What?”

“C’mon, think about it,” Aemond says, leaning closer, “You and me, together. It’ll drive Floris up the wall, I know it. And Qyle too I bet.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. You give him a once over, eyes scanning past the planes of his chest, down his dark jeans. Aemond’s always dressed in black when you see him. His black t-shit hugs the lean muscles of his chest and arms, you can see the ripple of his biceps flexing. His silver chain catches the light as you drag your gaze back up to his face.

“How do you know that?” you ask.

Aemond wets his lips, running a hand through his long silver hair. He shrugs, smugly pursing his lips.

“She was always threatened by you,” he admits.

“Me?!” you ask, eyes widening, nearly popping out of your skull.

“Don’t act so surprised,” Aemond scolds, and you feel your cheeks blooming with blush.

How on Earth were you a threat to Floris Baratheon?

“She didn’t like that you were always around,” Aemond begins, “You’re Aegon’s best friend, you’re gorgeous-”

“Am I?” you ask, a sharp laugh escaping your lips, a smile playing on your face.

Aemond hums, downing the dregs of his drink. His violet eye flickers to your face and you hope he can’t see how flushed his comment made you in the low lights of the club. It’s not every day Aemond Targaryen dishes out compliments, especially to his brother’s best friend.

“Of course you are,” he tells you, “Which is why it's perfect.”

You glance around the club, unconsciously looking for Qyle’s dark curls. You shake your head. You’re not sure what compels you to keep indulging Aemond. Maybe it’s the tequila.

It’s cause he called you gorgeous, your inner thoughts tease.

He’s simply stating facts, you tell yourself. You are gorgeous. And you would love to see Qyle squirm a bit. Even if you’re pretending.

“Okay,” you tell him, “I’m in.”

Your plan goes swimmingly.

It’s not hard to run into Floris and Qyle, you and Aemond make sure to stop by all of your favorite haunts. Aemond takes you to the bookstore downtown, with an adjoining cafe where you run into Floris and her sister Maris, who glares daggers at you the entire time you enjoy your brunch.

You take Aemond to the Water Garden museum, which Qyle told you was one of his favorite places. Sure enough, you have an awkward encounter with your former beau as he’s sketching some lilies that float by on a lapis-colored reflection pool.

Qyle’s smile falters when Aemond laces his fingers through yours, demanding you show him your favorite parts of the museum. You hate to admit it but you like the feeling of his hand in yours, how Aemond actually listens when you explain which exhibits are your favorite. He’s surprisingly easy to make conversation with and a great listener. You never felt like Qyle listened.

Your scheming pays off, both you and Aemond receive heated texts from your exes which you examine weeks later while hosting a party with the gang. The gang being Aegon, Jace, Sara, and Baela. Baela and you have been roomies since university, now sharing an apartment together. You cheers Aemond as he hands you your drink, knocking your red solo cup against his.

“You and I make a fabulous pair, if I do say so myself,” you tell Aemond, taking a sip.

“Yeah, you’re alright I suppose,” he teases and you nudge him in the ribs with your elbow.

The doorbell rings and Baela rises from the couch eagerly. You frown at her.

“You invited more people?” you ask.

Baela nods while heading toward the door.

“Just a few! Alyn from boxing and one of his friends!” she calls to you.

You roll your eyes at her. Baela loves a good party and she makes a good host. You find a seat on the couch, Aemond sitting next to you, watching as Aegon versus Sara in beer pong. When Baela reenters she’s joined by Alyn and another guy.

“Guys, this is Alyn, and his friend Cregan,” Baela introduces.

You smile politely, and all introduce yourselves. Cregan is cute. Like, really cute. Ruggedly handsome, built like a total beefcake. When his brown eyes meet yours you glance away shyly.

“Get wrecked, Sara!” Aegon cheers, successfully winning the game of pong.

“Whatever,” Sara says rolling her eyes.

“Okay let’s do doubles now, Jacey boy be my second,” Aegon says, clapping his hands on Jace’s shoulders.

Jace laughs but begins to reset the cups.

“Y/N, come on be Sara’s partner,” Aegon says, waving you over.

“Fuck you Egg, you’re a cheat I’m not playing again,” Sara says, huffing as she walks away.

She’s historically a sore loser, and she doesn’t budge even when Jace pouts and begs her to play. You stand in front of the table hands on your hips.

“It’s fine, I can take you both,” you tell them, causing Aegon to raise an eyebrow.

“Kinky bestie,” he teases and you throw the ball at his head.

He ducks, dissolving into laughter as Jace blushes.

“I’ll play,” Alyn's friend says suddenly, walking to stand next to you.

You glance at him, smiling softly which he returns with a smile of his own.

“You should know, I’m pretty shit at this game,” he admits, and you giggle softly.

“No worries, I’ll carry us,” you tease, “But beware, that one is a cheater.”

You point at Aegon, and he opens his mouth dramatically, placing a hand on his heart.

“That’s a pretty harsh accusation coming from the master of distraction,” he accuses.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you say, blinking innocently.

“Don’t let her fool you, Cregan,” Aegon says shaking his head and bouncing the ball against the table, “This one is known for flashing her tits if it means she can win.”

“Aegon!” you hiss, blushing furiously, “He’s lying.”

“Mhmm, we’ll see,” Aegon teases and the game begins.

While Aemond enjoys watching you play, he decides rather quickly he does not like Alyn’s friend Cregan. Specifically, the way he stands so closely next to you, and the way he seems to be so hilarious. Every laugh he steals from your lips sends Aemond’s heart racing, his blood boiling in his veins.

He stays seated on the couch for the entire game, eye never leaving you. Baela plops down next to him at one point, her gaze following his and landing on you. Aemond notices he’s being observed a second too late, tearing his gaze away and nonchalantly taking a sip of his drink.

“Mhmm,” Baela says, fighting a smile.

“Shut up,” he snaps at his cousin.

The shenanigans continue late into the night, with Sara and Jace leaving first. You raise your eyebrows at Sara. They’re not technically together, but the sparks are there. You know Jace will have to make a move soon, he just needs to get a little braver. Aegon is picked up by Rhaenyra next, he’s too drunk to drive. He places a sloppy kiss on your cheek as you help Rhaenyra lift him into her red Cadillac.

“I love you so much, you’re my best friend,” Aegon slurs.

“I love you too, Egg,” you tell him, laughing at his ridiculousness.

He sits up in the backseat looking around.

“Is this Nyra’s car? Is Nyra here??” he asks loudly, eyes wide.

“Yes you idiot, you called me!” Nyra says getting into the front seat.

“I’m so glad you’re here, my big sister!!” Aegon says, pressing his face against the leather seats, “Can we get McDonald's?”

For some reason, Aemond lingers behind as the party dies down, it's only you, Baela, Alyn, and Cregan left. As the hours get later, Alyn and Cregan finally decide to leave, but not before Cregan insists you take his number.

You’ve started picking up cups and plates, not one to find sleep easily after a rager. Baela turned in for the night, you can hear her noise machine blaring even though her room’s on the second floor. You roomed with her in college, she can’t sleep in silence. Noise machine, fan on, and she’s out like a light.

“You really got his number?” Aemond asks, from the couch across the room.

You glance at Aemond as he sits, legs splayed out, arms draped over the back of the couch. One of his large hands holds a now empty red solo cup. He taps a long finger against it.

“Who?”

“Alyn’s friend,” Aemond says, not taking his eye off you.

“Oh...Craig?” you tell him.

Shit, that is totally not that guy's name.

You frown, standing straight, a red solo cup dangling from your fingers. You put his name into your phone as an emoji of a wolf. It seemed funny at the time though you can’t remember why.

“Or Connor? Something with a C I think,” you tell him, shrugging.

“What about us?” he asks.

“What about us?” you ask, placing a hand on your hip, “Aemond, we’re not really dating.”

You move closer to him, holding your hand out to take his empty cup. Your hand nearly wraps around it when Aemond pulls it out of your reach. You narrow your eyes playfully at him, reaching once more. Aemond’s free hand wraps around your thigh, pulling you closer.

A blush creeps up your neck, heat floods your face as Aemond lets the cup fall, bringing his other hand to pull you completely onto his lap. Suddenly straddling him a gasp falls from your lips before Aemond swallows the noise by placing his lips against yours.

Holy fuck.

Aemond Targaryen is a good kisser. You admit, you thought he must be with that perfect pout on his handsome face. As you whimper against him, Aemond slides his tongue into your mouth, hands gripping your waist as you roll your hips against him.

You slide your hands around his neck, running your hands through the silky strands of his hair and letting your nails drag across the nape of his neck. He shivers against you and you do it again. Aemond’s hands slide underneath your shirt, dancing up your ribs leaving a trail of goosebumps behind at his surprisingly gentle touch.

“What were you saying?” Aemond murmurs against your mouth.

“We…” your voice trails off as Aemond moves his lips from your mouth, ghosting them across your jawbone, down the column of your neck.

“Mhmm,” he murmurs, the vibrations tingling against your throat.

Aemond nips at the skin of your neck before pressing hot, wet kisses along your throat. Gods you are so wet already, squirming anxiously in his lap as one of his large hands squeeze the swell of your ass, the other continuing its exploration under your shirt, over your breasts.

“Aem-” you whimper as he palms your breast in his hand.

Gods he feels good, just squeezing and kissing you, showering you with affection.

“You like that?” he murmurs, teeth scraping against your collarbone.

“Yes,” you breathe, rolling your hips against the growing hardness you feel between his legs.

He’s packing, you can tell by the way he’s pressed against you; hard and demanding. Though you suspected as much with how tall and lean he is, by the size of his hands. You’d been thinking about Aemond a lot actually.

“What do you like?” Aemond asks between kisses, “Tell me.”

“Aemond please,” you moan, “Please keep touching me.”

“Where, baby?” he asks, pinching your nipple between his fingers.

“Please touch my pussy,” you beg.

Aemond grins wolfishly, bringing his hand to the hem of your shirt. You release your grip on his neck as he pulls your shirt over your head. You assist him, eager to keep going as you unclasp your bra and fling it across the room.

Aemond’s eyes fall on your heaving breasts before he leans forward burying his face between them. Your head falls back with pleasure as he takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking harshly on the sensitive peak. He alternates his attention between both mounds, being shamelessly lewd with the wet sounds his mouth makes. You’re desperate at this point, breasts covered in red marks, nearly soaked from his mouth.

“Aemond please,” you beg once more and he lets his hand trail up your thigh and under your skirt.

His long fingers easily slip under your lace underwear, spreading your slick folds and swirling around your clit.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” Aemond murmurs, mouth still buried in your tits.

Your head is spinning, ears ringing from pleasure as he sinks two fingers easily into your clenching center. You inhale a sharp breath as he crooks his fingers into the perfect ‘come hither’ position, determined to find your sweet spot. Which he does, with impressive speed as your eyes squeeze tightly shut, jaw slack with pleasure.

“Eyes on me,” he demands, “Don’t be rude, look at who’s making you cum.”

You force your eyes open, staring at him as fingers you relentlessly, rubbing your inner walls while his thumb rolls even circles around your clit. Pleasure blooms in your abdomen, it tingles up your spine. Your imminent orgasm sends warmth spreading through your limbs, your pussy clenching around Aemond’s fingers, a vice-like grip.

As you’re nearing the edge, breaths becoming desperate pants, Aemond slows his movements, swallowing your disappointed whine with a kiss.

“I know,” he sing-songs, so smugly, so condescendingly, “but you haven’t learned your lesson yet.”

He slowly removes his fingers from your dripping cunt and wraps his hands around your thighs pushing you off of him. You stand in front of him on shaky legs, and Aemond takes in the sight of you standing in your heels and skirt, topless and marked by him.

“Take off your panties,” he softly commands.

There’s no need for him to ask you twice, you move to the buttons of your skirt, but he stops you.

“Leave that on,” he tells you.

Your hands move underneath your skirt, pulling your lace panties down slowly. Aemond moves his hands toward his belt buckle, releasing his cock as you do so. Your eyes widen, at the sight of him; fully erect, pink tip leaking with precum as he slowly runs his hand along his shaft. You can see every vein that runs along his pale cock, and you were right about him being well-endowed. He’s thick and long and your mouth nearly waters at the sight.

Aemond’s mouth quirks into a smile at your staring, before he reaches out to pull you back onto his lap. He reaches for his wallet, but it's your turn to stop him.

“I’m on birth control,” you tell him, “And I was recently tested.”

“Me too,” Aemond says, “The tested, not the birth control.”

You giggle at his joke, and he grins.

“I want to feel you,” you tell him, a rosy blush blooming across your cheeks.

Aemond pulls you into another bruising kiss, as you lift your hips. You can feel the fat head of his cock kissing your slick folds, and you shiver before lower your hips onto him, engulfing him fully in your tight, wet heat. Aemond lets out a shuddering moan as he bottoms out.

Your pussy clenches around him, and you can feel him pulsating inside you like a second heartbeat as you gingerly roll your hips against him. Aemond’s jaw slacks, his violet eye blown black with lust as you begin to ride him.

He lets you for a moment, before he wraps his hands around your waist, pressing you into the couch on your back. Aemond snaps his hips against you, pulling nearly all the way out until you can just feel the head of his cock, before slamming into you once more.

Whimpers and moans fill the living room, along with skin slapping against the skin as he fucks you into the couch.

“I want you to call him,” Aemond growls in your ear, “Tell him you’re seeing someone.”

“I will,” you promise him, as he delivers another punishing thrust.

“Now.”

Your breathing stops, your heart pounding erratically in your chest.

“Aemond, no,” you whimper, as his hand wraps around your throat.

“Yes,” he tells you, kissing you sloppily eliciting another moan from you.

Thighs trembling, your pussy spasms around his thick cock and he slows his punishing pace suddenly.

“If you want to cum tonight, you’ll call him now,” Aemond tells you.

You weigh your options for a moment.

“My phone,” you choke out, motioning to the side table.

Aemond smirks, moving his hand to the back of your neck, reaching for your phone with his free hand. He hands it to you and you take it with a shaky hand.

You scroll through your contacts to find wolf boy and press the call button as Aemond lets his hand run down your chest, between the valley of your breasts and lower to play with your clit. Your pussy clenches around his still cock, desperate for him to move.

Please don’t pick up.

The phone keeps ringing, your orgasm building with each ring, each swirl of his dexterous fingers.

Please don’t pick up.

Aemond kisses your neck, your collarbone. Mumbles filthy words against your skin like a prayer.

“You like warming my cock, baby?”

Please don’t pick up.

He takes your nipple in his mouth, tugging on it with his lips, his teeth. Oh god you’re going to-

The sharp cut to wolf boy’s voicemailbox brings you back to reality. Aemond removes his fingers from your clit and you whimper with disappointment before the beep of the answering machine.

“He-hey! Hello there,” you try to sound casual, “this is um this is Y/N from the party and I just-”

Aemond sinks his teeth into the junction where your shoulder meets your neck and your jaw drops.

“I just wanted to tell you, I’m actually, um I’m-” your voice trails off, eyes fluttering shut as Aemond sucks harshly on your neck.

Aemond pulls away, a wolfish grin on his face before he plucks your phone from your hand, pressing it to his ear.

“She’s seeing someone, and she’s busy right now,” he says roughly, “Delete this number.”

Aemond hangs up, tossing your phone to the other end of the couch. Your eyes are wide as he spreads your legs wide, pressing them back into the cushions of the couch as he begins to pound into you.

The sound of wet slaps fills the room and you’re thanking every deity you can think of that Baela is a heavy sleeper.

“You liked that didn’t you?” Aemond taunts, “Calling him with my cock inside you?”

Whimpers and moans leave you with every snap of Aemond’s hips.

“Yes,” you admit, feeling a rush roll through you at his possessiveness.

“Naughty girl, you are,” he chastises, “I don’t think naughty girls deserve to cum.”

You let out a desperate whine and Aemond chuckles darkly at your disappointed reaction. You bite your lip, the delicious sting of your hamstrings paired with Aemond’s precise thrusts sending you closer and closer to the edge.

“Please, Aemond,” you beg, eyes glassy with want, “Please make me cum, I want you to.”

“I bet you do,” Aemond tells you, bringing a hand to rest against your throat once more, “Needy sluts, always want to cum.”

“Aem, please,” you continue to beg, voice hoarse, “I’ll be so good.”

Aemond quirks an eyebrow at you.

“Will you now? That’s what I like to hear,” Aemond praises, “How?”

“I’ll be all yours, only yours,” you tell him, toes curling with the building pressure in your abdomen, “Fuck, I’m yours.”

“Hmmm that’s better,” Aemond tells you, “It’s you and me, baby.”

“You and me,” you repeat, nearly dumb with pleasure, “you and me.”

“That’s a good girl,” Aemond praises, releasing your throat and bringing his hand to play with your clit, “Cum for me, cum all over my cock.”

Your belly tightens and with a strangled cry, you’re clenching and coating Aemond’s cock and lower stomach with your release. Aemond continues to fuck your sensitive walls through your orgasm, as you run your nails down his back, holding him closer. He lets go of your legs and you wrap them around his waist.

“Cum inside me, please,” you whimper.

Aemond kisses you harshly, his thrusts becoming frantic as you feel him release deep inside of you. You whimper with pleasure, sinking your nails into his shoulder and keeping him inside you. Aemond kisses you again, more gently this time, and brushes some hair from your face.

“Holy shit,” you manage to say, and Aemond smirks.

“I didn’t plan on that,” he tells you, “but seeing you with Cregan-”

“Cregan! That was his name,” you interrupt.

Aemond furrows his brow.

“I fuck you that good?” he teases.

“I forgot his name before you fucked me,” you tell him.

“I can always try again,” he tells you.

“Maybe we can move it to my room this time?” you ask, “It is, three feet away after all.”

And that’s exactly what you do, leading Aemond into your room where he fucks you with his fingers, his cock, and his tongue until his name is the only one you can remember at all.

“Y/N?” Baela calls from the living room the following morning.

You open your eyes and turn, greeted by a sleeping Aemond Targaryen. You put on his shirt and open the door to your room, peeking your head out.

Baela stands, arms crossed, a knowing smile on her lips.

“Have fun last night?” she asks.

“Yeah…” you answer slowly.

Baela’s eyes flicker across the room and you follow her gaze. Your eyes land on your monstera plant that rests in the corner of the room, and your cheeks begin to burn as you see your bra strung over the leaves.

“Tell Aemond good morning,” Baela teases as you back into your room, and close the door.

You pad back over to your bed, sinking down onto the mattress. Aemond groans before his hand wraps around your waist pulling you closer.

“Good morning,” you whisper, bumping your nose against his.

note: HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT ILYSM

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