Ok, so max hastings x reader who is 18 and still in school, where he gets her pregnant and because of how bad the situation looks and to save his reputation, his dad suggests that he should be with her all the time and in future marry her, but this was all reader's real plan to get married to him and live a wealthy life
Thanks for the request! I coupled it with another one as they fit well together. Click below to read it!
💬 0 🔁 0 ❤️ 0 · — MASTERMIND
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SUMMARY: YOU'VE BEEN IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH MAX FOR A WHILE
SUMMARY: YOU'VE BEEN IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH MAX FOR A WHILE NOW. AS YOU'RE STILL IN HIGH SCHOOL, YOU STILL HAVE THAT INNOCENT IMAGE THAT CLINGS TO YOU. IN THIS RELATIONSHIP WHERE MAX IS CONVINCED HE IS IN CONTROL, THE MASTERMIND COULD CHANGE WHEN YOU ANNOUNCE BIG NEWS.
WORDS: 1311
RATING: TEENS AND UP
CONTENT: ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP, READER IS 18 BUT STILL IS IN HIGHSCHOOL, BABY TRAPPING
WARNINGS: TOXIC RELATIONSHIP
REQUESTS: "OK, SO MAX HASTINGS X READER WHO IS 18 AND STILL IN SCHOOL, WHERE HE GETS HER PREGNANT AND BECAUSE OF HOW BAD THE SITUATION LOOKS AND TO SAVE HIS REPUTATION, HIS DAD SUGGESTS THAT HE SHOULD BE WITH HER ALL THE TIME AND IN FUTURE MARRY HER, BUT THIS WAS ALL READER'S REAL PLAN TO GET MARRIED TO HIM AND LIVE A WEALTHY LIFE" + "MAX HASTINGS WITH SOMEONE JUST LIKE HIM. MAYBE SOME BLAIR WALDORF X CHUCK DYNAMIC THEY WOULD BE LIKE A POWER TOXIC COUPLE"
AUTHOR'S NOTE: MIXED THOSE TWO REQUESTS AS I THOUGHT THEY WERE FITTING WELL TOGETHER, I HOPE YOU WILL BOTH LIKE IT!
Some will say that your relationship with Max wasn't the best. But that was something you were ignoring. Of course, it wasn't very easy. Max had a tendency to control you, while talking to you about other girls, while you didn't really allow him to leave you alone or without an answer for very long.
Perhaps Max had already thought about leaving you for a few days several times. But somehow, you always managed to convince him to stay by your side. Making him feel guilty or crying always worked.
Finally, one day, he'd really had enough. He was really going to take a break with you. He loved you very much, and he thought you weren't too bad by his side. In any case, you gave him a good look. But damn it, he was so fed up with you asking him if he really loved you, if he would leave you some day.
But just as he was about to put your relationship on hold, you dropped a bombshell on him.
"I'm pregnant!"
Max blinked several times before frowning as he approached you. He took one of your arms in his hand, his eyes locked on yours.
"You're not lying to me, are you?"
"Of course not! I took the test two days ago, I really am!" you replied as his grip tightened on your arm.
You took your phone out of your pocket, rummaging through it to show him a picture you had taken of the pregnancy test, showing a positive result.
"Who's to say this isn't a fake image?" he asked suspiciously.
"Do you want me to go buy another one and take it in front of you?"
Max remained silent for a moment before breathing heavily, letting go of your arm, and walking slowly towards the living room sofa to sit down. He ran his hands over his face before shaking his head slightly. How was he supposed to handle a situation like this?
You shifted from one foot to the other, your hands behind your back as you waited for him to say something. You were almost certain it would be difficult, as Max wasn't the person who accepted his responsibilities most easily.
"Are you even sure it's from me?" he asked.
You chuckled, looking at him, your brows furrowing in turn. Your arms then crossed over your chest.
"Are you implying that I might have cheated on you?" you asked, prompting him to give a vague nod. "Well, no! I'm very faithful!"
Max groaned, tilting his head back. He was starting to replay all the moments he'd spent with you recently, trying to remember when he might have gotten you pregnant. There had been a few times when he had been reckless, but had he been that unlucky? Apparently so.
"Get out," he said, giving you a look.
"Why? Because it bothers you that I'm pregnant? You told me you'd love me forever anyway!"
"Get out," he repeated. "I need to think."
You chuckled and shook your head. You turned to leave, but after a few steps, his father arrived. He quickly noticed the tension in the room between you and Max.
"What's going on?"
"Nothing," Max replied immediately.
"I'm pregnant," you said then, before leaving the house as if nothing had happened.
He watched you leave until the front door slammed shut, then looked at his son. Max sighed deeply as he stood up, ready to leave. But his father stopped him.
"I think there's a discussion we need to have."
Max stopped, slipping his hands into his trouser pockets. He said nothing, not wanting to make the situation worse. So he just waited for his father to begin the discussion.
"You really got that girl pregnant?"
Max took a deep breath, shrugged his shoulders, and then pulled his hands out of his pockets to slap his thighs.
"According to her, yes."
Max pursed his lips and nodded slightly, noticing his father's expression becoming more troubled.
"Do you realize she hasn't even finished school yet? It was obvious from the start that she was going to be a troublemaker!"
"I was planning to take a break from her, but she told me she was pregnant," Max explained.
His father sighed and began pacing back and forth. He was trying to figure out what to do, what the best solution was. Then, after a while, he finally stopped in front of Max.
"She's young," he said, raising his eyebrows.
"Not so naive, if that's what you're implying."
"But... she's a bit... well... silly."
Max parted his lips slightly and shook his head, his hands back in his pockets.
"She's cute, isn't she?"
"What are you getting at?" Max finally asked, slightly annoyed.
"Stay with her. In a few years, marry her."
"What? Why?" he exclaimed indignantly, frowning.
"Can you even imagine the shame that would stain our name if someone found out that you got that girl pregnant and then left her?" said his father, his voice firmer.
Max sighed, closing his eyes for a few moments. He was starting to really curse himself.
"She's cute," her father repeated. "Just let time pass. You'll end up being happy that she had this child," he added vaguely, before patting his shoulder and leaving.
Max watched his father go into another room before collapsing onto the sofa. He knew his father wasn't really giving him a choice. Now, Max had to mentally prepare himself for the whole situation.
Yet, after that, he didn't speak to you for several days. For a moment, you thought it was over and you would never see him again. You were already thinking about what you were going to do.
You felt relieved when you received a message from him, asking you to come see him one afternoon. That had remotivated you; you told yourself that you would always be by his side.
As he had asked you, you went to his house on the afternoon you were supposed to come. It was just the two of you then. He didn't look his best, almost uncomfortable. It might well have been the first time you'd seen him looking so lost.
You were then in his room, sitting on his bed. You were watching him intently, waiting for him to tell you what you hoped to hear. He didn't seem to want to say it, but you knew it was about to happen.
After a moment of silence where you barely looked at each other, Max finally really looked at you and started talking to you.
"I've been... thinking about..." he doesn't finish the sentence, pointing at your stomach with a jerk of his chin.
"Our child?" you finished in his place, raising your eyebrows.
Max's eyes fluttered for a few seconds when he heard you use those words, clearly still finding it hard to believe that you were really pregnant with his child.
"Our… child," he confirmed, nodding. "I… I will stay… with you."
A smile formed on your lips as you tenderly took his hands in yours.
"Maybe even... one day... we could get married?" he added, maintaining his seriousness and calm as much as possible.
Max liked you, but things were so complicated. He didn't even really know if he was happy or not. He really intended to break up with you for a while to get some space. Perhaps his father was right, and he would get used to it.
Keeping your smile on your lips, you took him in your arms, which he vaguely did in return, patting your back. He then thought that, yes, you were perhaps a little naive in not understanding that the initial reasons were for the good of his family.
And meanwhile, you were thinking that everything had been simpler than expected. Well, there you go! You'd have your life of luxury!
SUMMARY: BEFORE THE QUARTER-FINAL AGAINST MOROCCO, YOU, YOUR HUSBAND AND YOUR DAUGHTER DECIDED TO GO FOR A WALK AND DO SOME SHOPPING. LITTLE DID YOU KNOW THAT THIS WOULD LEAD TO THE HELLO KITTY INCIDENT.
WORDS: 1145
RATING: GENERAL AUDIENCES
CONTENT: READER IS MICHAEL'S WIFE, MICHAEL AND READER HAVE AN UNNAMED DAUGHTER, LITTLE BIT OF FLUFF
WARNINGS: NONE
When you become famous, there are always things that happen related to your reputation. You can earn new nicknames, some more cool than others, or you can also be involved in scandals or dramas.
When he started his professional career, Michael had no idea that one day he would be the main player in the Hello Kitty incident, let alone during one of the biggest competition. It wasn't a very serious thing, it was perhaps even funny (especially for you), but not the most flattering in a career.
Things were getting more and more serious for the World Cup. The quarter-finals were here, and the players needed to be perfect to go further in the competition. A dream that Michael hoped to achieve was getting closer and closer. Being World Champion? Incredible! Being World Champion in front of his wife and his daughter? Even better!
During a short period of permitted rest, Michael had gone out with you and your daughter to help himself relax a little. You stopped in some shops, mostly buying souvenirs for your family and friends.
Among all these small purchases, there were also toys and a book for your daughter, but above all, sheets of Hello Kitty stickers. Her eyes shone when she saw them, almost dropping the cuddly toy she had brought with her. She loved stickers and had seen loads of them. But these were truly the most beautiful in the world! Some even had football references! If that wasn't proof of how great these stickers are!
So you left with Hello Kitty stickers, which she would obviously use on her sketchbook, as she always did.
As Michael was getting ready to leave for the stadium for the match against Morocco, he froze on the spot. The day before, he had taken out the boots he planned to use, the green ones that would match the kit used. But slowly, his mouth opened slightly, no sound coming out for several seconds.
"Shit…" he murmured.
He picked up one of the boots, closely examining the stickers that now covered them. He ran his fingers over them, some 3D, others flat. He tried to remove one but, seeing it begin to tear and worsen the situation, he put it back in place.
With the boots in hand, he joined you in the bathroom, holding them up in the air so you could see their condition in the mirror. You frowned before smiling slightly.
"Now that's a limited edition!" you said, smiling a little wider.
"I knew buying those stickers was a bad idea," he said, lowering the boots.
"Usually, she sticks them in her sketchbook. It seems like she's gone completely overboard with artistic madness."
Michael shrugged as he watched you come out of the bathroom. Your daughter was comfortably settled on the bed, a book in her hands, although she was only looking at the pictures.
"You have others that should go, right?" you asked.
"These were the best for the kit we're going to wear today," he explained, setting the boots aside. "I guess I just have to find another pair that works too…"
As you were busy packing your backpack for the match, mostly filled with things for your daughter, you heard a little squeak.
"Love?" said Michael in an almost shaky voice.
You turned towards him and immediately burst out laughing. Horror was visible on your husband's face, who was holding other pairs also covered in stickers.
"I told you we shouldn't leave her unattended," you said, raising your hands in a gesture of innocence.
"We were in the next room for fifteen minutes," he complained, putting down his boots.
Michael sighed, running a hand over his face in despair. He was fucked. Regardless of the pair, the boots were beautifully decorated by your daughter.
While Michael was already wondering what he was going to do, your daughter decided that it was the right time to remind him what she had done. She placed her open book on the bed before getting out of the bed and going to her father. She grabbed his pants, a smile on her lips slightly hidden by her pacifier.
"Papa has the most pretty boots now!" she said happily, her words a little muffled because of the pacifier.
"The most pretty…" he said in a whisper, gently placing his hand on the child's head.
You pursed your lips to stifle another laugh, moving towards the boots to observe the works of art your daughter had created.
"Oh, look! That one has a medal!" you said, amused, pointing to one of the stickers on the green shoes.
"Because Papa will have a medal after the match!" your daughter declared.
"That's not really how it works," he said, patting the little girl's head.
"Yes, it is," she insisted confidently.
"Really? Who told you that?" you asked, still amused.
"Me. I... I'm a refee... for all the matches..." she replied, turning her attention back to her book.
"Oh! I understand some things better now…" you murmured, Paraguayan-type flashbacks coming back to you.
Michael shook his head a little, although a slight smile had formed for two short seconds.
"I hope it's not you tonight," he said, earning a nod from the girl.
"Yes, it's me. I'm going to whistle for Papa!"
"Whistle for what? To give lots of cards?" you asked.
"Yes… red," she said, turning a page and squirming on the bed.
"Red? That's not good for Papa!" Michael countered.
"Yes, it is. Because… I like red…"
"Oh well, if it's because you like red, that's fine…" he murmured, turning around and looking back at his boots. "I guess I don't really have a choice…"
He grabbed his green boots, already thinking about the various reactions he will get from his team and probably from anyone. He was already breaking out in a cold sweat imagining all the questions from the curious journalists.
And of course, the boots caused quite a stir! There was general laughter in the locker room as Michael tried, as best he could, to explain that a little monster had been there while he was trying to operate a hair dryer in the bathroom with his wife, but the noise made by his teammates made the task difficult.
It was also a surprise for the opponents, who couldn't help but glance at these boots with their rather original customization. It wasn't every day that a football player had Hello Kitty boots!
And then, it was on social media that the boots were properly showcased. Well, at least internet users were amused, and some were even a little touched by the idea that Michael had played with the shoes his daughter had customized, even if the customization was accidental.
A little monster is still having fun repeating that it was thanks to her stickers that Papa won against Morocco.
SUMMARY: YOU WERE PROMISED TO YOUR TWIN BROTHER, DAERON, SINCE YOU WERE LITTLE. IF THINGS WERE SIMPLE DURING YOUR CHILDHOOD, THINGS BECAME MORE COMPLICATED AS YOU GREW UP, ESPECIALLY WITH AERION. BUT IF AEGON THE CONQUEROR WAS ABLE TO MARRY BOTH SISTERS, WHY COULDN'T YOU DO THE SAME?
WORDS: 807
RATING: GENERAL AUDIENCES
CONTENT: READER IS A TARGARYEN, READER IS DAERON'S TWIN, AERION BEING WHINY, MAEKAR HAVING ENOUGH OF AERION
WARNINGS: SIBLINGS TARGCEST
Since you were little, you had been promised to your twin brother: Daeron. Growing up, it wasn't something that bothered you. You loved your twin very much, so you were almost delighted. The fact that Daeron loved you very much in return made things much easier.
However, there was something that was definitely not planned: Aerion. Your little brother had eventually come to love you, and that frustrated him immensely. It wasn't fair! He had the right to marry you too!
But, once again, there was something else unplanned. You loved Daeron more than anything in the world, but eventually, you learned to love Aerion more than anything in the world as well. This had initially bothered you, since how were you supposed to explain to your future husband that you were in love with Aerion? You had to tell him, obviously. Then one day, when you were having a quiet moment together (which hadn't stayed quiet for long), you took your courage in both hands. And then, Daeron gave you a very calm look, not the least bit annoyed.
"That gives us another thing in common," he said simply.
You were speechless for a few seconds before feeling truly relieved. But even though you knew Daeron understood you, you also had to know if your conflicting feelings would bother Aerion. You had thought long and hard about how to ask him. Then you decided to do as you did with your twin: spend a quiet moment with him to tell him everything. Well, not only had it once again not been a quiet moment for long, but it had been very difficult to get him to open up. Until he finally confessed something.
"Well… I suppose he doesn't really bother me…" he grumbled.
You had been uncertain for a while, until you caught them at the wrong time, or the right time, it was a subjective situation. It was then obvious to the three of you that each of the three loved the other two.
That made things easier, but now you had to convince your father and the King to let you all marry each other. They had tried everything: pleas, promises,and even blackmail. But nothing had worked. The decision was firm: Daeron would be the only one you would marry.
On the day of the ceremony, Aerion was practically seething. To see you there, next to Daeron, when if your father had been just he would be with you as well. He imagined he was on your left, with Daeron on your right. It could have been magnificent, but he was doomed to insult everyone present in his head, even innocent people who were not even aware of the feelings shared between the three siblings.
Maekar had noticed, but ignored it, although it wasn't easy to do so. Aerion was so angry that he seemed to radiate his despair and pain. However, during the feast in honor of the royal wedding, he could no longer ignore it.
"Can you stop looking at them like that?" he asked firmly in a low voice, not wanting to attract attention.
"It's not fair. I should be with them," he complained. "Why Daeron, in the first place? It could have been me!"
"Because they've been promised to each other for a long time. We're not going to throw everything away for an affair."
"It's not an affair!"
Maekar Maekar sighed as he watched the people feasting, then took several sips of wine. He could still hear Aerion grumbling as he looked at the small additional tier on the platform where the Targaryens were sitting.
"That's not fair!" he insisted.
"I think I understood that…" Maekar said, frowning.
"No. Otherwise, I'd be with them," he said, shaking his head. "Aegon the Conqueror married his two sisters. So why can't we do the same?"
"Your sister is not the Conqueror, if my memory is correct."
"I don't care about that. And if the people aren't capable of seeing such a union, then they really are even weaker than I thought."
Maekar glanced at him. Offended, annoyed or irritated, it was impossible to say. Before he could say anything more, Aerion stood up and pulled his chair up to the tier reserved for Daeron and you. Everyone turned around at the noise Aerion was making. And when he finally settled between Daeron and you, a kiss was placed on your lips, then on Daeron's as if nothing had happened. Everyone gasped in shock, the musicians stopping abruptly to play. Maekar put a hand to his forehead, cursing his son. Daeron shook his head, swirling the wine in his goblet, while all you could do was sneer.
"Fuck me…" Maekar murmured, horrified by what was potentially about to happen.
But in any case, Aerion was now having a very good night.
SUMMARY: 2026 WORLD CUP. LAMINE YAMAL, A PLAYER FOR THE SPANISH NATIONAL TEAM, CAME WITH HIS GIRLFRIEND. SO FAR, THE FACT THAT YOU'RE FRENCH HAS NEVER REALLY CHANGED ANYTHING. BUT WHEN IT WAS ANNOUNCED THAT FRANCE WOULD BE PLAYING AGAINST SPAIN, THERE WAS BICKERING FROM THE MOMENT THE ANNOUNCEMENT WAS MADE UNTIL THE END OF THE MATCH. NOW YOU SHOULD CONGRATULATE YOUR BOYFRIEND. AFTER ALL, SPAIN IS IN THE FINAL!
WORDS: 1863
RATING: 18+
CONTENT: READER IS FRENCH, ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP, LAMINE BEING ANNOYING, PRETTY MUCH PLOTLESS, ORAL (M RECEIVING), FINGERING, P IN V, CREAMPIE, LAMINE BITES A LOT
WARNINGS: NONE
AUTHOR'S NOTE: SO I'VE GOT THE IDEA AFTER MOURNING FRANCE LOSING, AND INSTEAD OF FINISHING MY 6 WIPS I WROTE THIS! ANYWAY, MY FIRST RPF, I HOPE YOU GUYS WILL LIKE IT!
The World Cup has started! You had decided to accompany Lamine to support him at each of his matches. You loved your boyfriend more than anything in the world. But you would never forget your French pride! So when it was France's turn to play, you didn't hesitate to support your country. But you would never forget your French pride! So when it was France's turn to play, you didn't hesitate to support your country.
It was a fairly simple situation to manage, until one of the semi-final matchups was announced: France vs Spain. Boyfriend or patriotism?It was a fairly simple situation to manage, until one of the semi-final matchups was announced: France vs Spain. Boyfriend or patriotism? You quickly decided to choose France. In this way, you created a mini rivalry with Lamine, where he spent a lot of time taunting you, which you did in return.
Your confidence was immense when the match began. The situation was funny, since you didn't always know whether you were supposed to be outraged by France or by Lamine for certain actions. But you quickly realized that it was all over for France. And, in the end, you were right to be afraid. Spain won the match. You had placed so much faith in France that your feelings were mixed.
But in all this, it was Lamine who had not forgotten all the trust you had placed in France. You said way too often that Spain was going to get crushed by France for him to do nothing just to annoy you.
Back at the hotel, a huge smile was on Lamine's lips. The idea of teasing you gave him immense joy. You were in your hotel room, sulking at your boyfriend while still wearing your Koundé jersey.
Since you were lying on the bed, scrolling on your phone, he joined you by lying down behind you. He pressed his chest against your back, his arm resting on your waist. His smile never left his lips as he rubbed the tip of his nose against the back of your neck. You muttered something, pushing his head by the forehead, which made him laugh.
"I told you so," he said, amused.
"Shut up."
"I told you you'd be better off supporting Spain," he insisted. "He's not the right player," he added, tapping his Barcelona teammate's name behind your back.
"Shhh!" you say, putting a finger to your lips. "One more word from you and I'll make you eat a French flag."
"Only if you let me do the same to you with a Spanish flag."
You looked at him out of the corner of your eye, almost judging him for his answer. And this reaction delighted Lamine to the very core of his being. That was exactly what he wanted from you.
"I'm going to the World Cup final, baby…" he whispered.
His lips kissed the nape of your neck several times, his teeth nibbling at your skin here as they did so.
"Mh. I don't care."
"I know that's not true…" he murmured again, but there was now a hint of amusement in his voice.
"No, it's true. It's not that incredible!"
"If it's not that incredible, why be sad that France isn't going to the final?"
You scoffed while placing your phone on the nightstand before turning around, a pout on your lips and your eyebrows furrowed.
"I feel like punching your pretty face," you grumbled, taking his chin between your fingers.
Lamine gave an amused chuckle before gently kissing your lips. You kissed him back, though your lips still held a slight pout. As he placed a hand on your cheek, your hand moved from his chin to the back of his neck. Little by little, Lamine ended up lying down on top of you.
After an exchange, his lips first kissed your jaw and then moved down to your neck, which he nibbled again. At the same time, his hands slowly lifted your shirt until he could take it off. Then he was able to remove your bra. His lips attacked your neck again, nibbling at you again and again as they moved down towards your shoulder.
While he was carefully marking your skin, your hands moved to his back. They first slipped under his t-shirt, making him shiver, but quickly came out so that you could in turn remove this garment from him.
As soon as you were both shirtless, he pressed his torso against your chest, his hands on your hips as he began to rub his crotch against yours. You let out a small sigh, your hands on the small of his back as you felt his cock gradually harden, and your pussy get wet in the process.
When you felt his movements stop so that his hand could slip into your shorts, you stopped him. His eyes showed his surprise, but that quickly changed as you made him reverse your positions. You settled yourself between his legs, then sighed as you pulled down his sweatpants and boxers.
"I'm still upset. But I suppose you deserve my congratulations anyway," you say indifferently.
"Mmm. I'm sure you're annoyed about doing this."
You looked up at him, one eyebrow raised, while he had a silly grin on his face.
"I'm really going to punch you in the face."
Lamine chuckled before gasping at the sudden sensation of your lips around his length. He then sighed, a hand in your hair. He watched you with great interest, the way your lips moved up and down making him even more turned on than he already was.
His lips were slightly parted, just enough to let you hear his sighs of pleasure. Your hands moved slowly along the inside of his thighs, without your rhythm ever changing or being disturbed.
It took all his willpower not to move his hips in sync with you. But you were already a bit grumpy, so he didn't intend to annoy you any further, even though it was extremely tempting.
When he felt a warmth building in his lower abdomen, his grip on your hair tightened. He let out a squeak, barely disguised by a nibble of his lower lip, before pulling you back. He was a little out of breath, while you seemed surprised that he was preventing you from making him come. He usually loved finishing in your mouth!
He gave you no explanation, simply switching your positions again. He hastily removed your shorts and panties, spreading your thighs apart. His eyes lingered on your crotch for a moment, before he rested his face in the hollow of your neck while two of his fingers slipped into your pussy. Your hands rested on his shoulders, while he began to move his fingers inside you.
Little by little, as the speed of his fingers increased, your sounds of pleasure developed. His name escaped your lips in that tone mixing pleasure and despair, and that was one of the things he loved to hear most.
His fingers moved back and forth, then in scissor-like motions. He varied the speeds, never forgetting to whisper sweet nothings to you. When he sensed that you were getting closer and closer to the end, he pulled his face away from your neck to look at you, and more specifically at your face contorting with pleasure. When you reached your orgasm, your pussy clenching for a short moment around his fingers, and a smile appeared on his lips. He always found you so beautiful when you were coming; he was almost addicted to it.
He slowly pulled out his fingers, your body trembling slightly. He then gripped your thighs to wrap your legs around his hips, then, with one hand on each side of your face, slowly pushed his cock into you. You both let out a soft moan at the sweet sensation of feeling each other.
He settled himself more comfortably, you closing your legs properly around his hips, and only then did he begin to move. He started slowly, giving your body time to get used to the presence of his cock inside you, then he accelerated.
His hips rolled as he slowly lowered himself until his forehead could touch yours. Your hands rested on his back again, your fingers moving up and down along his spine. Shivers then ran down his back, accompanied by a small groan.
Your lips moved closer to his, until you could kiss tenderly, a certain contrast to the slightly more brutal rhythm of his hips. Your moans mingled with his sighs and groans, vaguely muffled by your kiss.
When your lips parted, he left them close for a few moments before kissing your neck and whispering praising words. Your nails dug into the skin of his back, making him groan slightly. It wasn't uncomfortable, just surprising since it had been so sudden. But he wasn't really against it.
Soon, just as you were both close to finishing, Lamine accelerated. He propped himself up on one elbow so his free hand could hold your thigh, without moving his face too far from yours.
You were the first to come, moaning his name as you pulled him close to you until his torso pressed against your chest. He started to pull out to finish but, just before he did, his tip already close to coming out, he thrust his cock back into you. Completely enveloped in your warmth that he loved so much, he closed his eyes and groaned a little more when he finally came in his turn.
He let out a long sigh as he opened his eyes, before pulling out and lying down next to you. Lying on his back, he only turned his head towards you. You did the same, a finger approaching his forehead to move the curls that were stuck to his forehead because of the sweat from the effort you both had just made. But seeing the smile on his face, you knew he was about to say something stupid.
"Did you like it?"
"Huh? Yes, as usual," you replied, almost suspicious to hear what was, in fact, a rather normal question.
"I understand you… if I were you, I would also be happy to do that with a player from Spain, a World Cup fina—"
Before he could finish, you were already climbing on top of him for a little fight, probably ready to finally punch him in the face. The slightly menacing look on your face made him laugh. He wrapped his arms around your back, restraining you without hurting you. And then he gave you kisses all over your face, eventually placing a kiss on the bite he had left on your skin a little earlier.
"You're going to support me on Sunday, aren't you?" he asked in a low voice, releasing you from his embrace.
You muttered something while scoffing, before hiding your face in the crook of his neck and nodding your head.
"Yes, yes… I hope you win…"
Lamine smiled as he hugged you, sensing a smile forming on your lips as you enjoyed this intimate moment sharing the warmth of your bodies.
SUMMARY: 2026 WORLD CUP. LAMINE YAMAL, A PLAYER FOR THE SPANISH NATIONAL TEAM, CAME WITH HIS GIRLFRIEND. SO FAR, THE FACT THAT YOU'RE FRENCH HAS NEVER REALLY CHANGED ANYTHING. BUT WHEN IT WAS ANNOUNCED THAT FRANCE WOULD BE PLAYING AGAINST SPAIN, THERE WAS BICKERING FROM THE MOMENT THE ANNOUNCEMENT WAS MADE UNTIL THE END OF THE MATCH. NOW YOU SHOULD CONGRATULATE YOUR BOYFRIEND. AFTER ALL, SPAIN IS IN THE FINAL!
WORDS: 1863
RATING: 18+
CONTENT: READER IS FRENCH, ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP, LAMINE BEING ANNOYING, PRETTY MUCH PLOTLESS, ORAL (M RECEIVING), FINGERING, P IN V, CREAMPIE, LAMINE BITES A LOT
WARNINGS: NONE
AUTHOR'S NOTE: SO I'VE GOT THE IDEA AFTER MOURNING FRANCE LOSING, AND INSTEAD OF FINISHING MY 6 WIPS I WROTE THIS! ANYWAY, MY FIRST RPF, I HOPE YOU GUYS WILL LIKE IT!
The World Cup has started! You had decided to accompany Lamine to support him at each of his matches. You loved your boyfriend more than anything in the world. But you would never forget your French pride! So when it was France's turn to play, you didn't hesitate to support your country. But you would never forget your French pride! So when it was France's turn to play, you didn't hesitate to support your country.
It was a fairly simple situation to manage, until one of the semi-final matchups was announced: France vs Spain. Boyfriend or patriotism?It was a fairly simple situation to manage, until one of the semi-final matchups was announced: France vs Spain. Boyfriend or patriotism? You quickly decided to choose France. In this way, you created a mini rivalry with Lamine, where he spent a lot of time taunting you, which you did in return.
Your confidence was immense when the match began. The situation was funny, since you didn't always know whether you were supposed to be outraged by France or by Lamine for certain actions. But you quickly realized that it was all over for France. And, in the end, you were right to be afraid. Spain won the match. You had placed so much faith in France that your feelings were mixed.
But in all this, it was Lamine who had not forgotten all the trust you had placed in France. You said way too often that Spain was going to get crushed by France for him to do nothing just to annoy you.
Back at the hotel, a huge smile was on Lamine's lips. The idea of teasing you gave him immense joy. You were in your hotel room, sulking at your boyfriend while still wearing your Koundé jersey.
Since you were lying on the bed, scrolling on your phone, he joined you by lying down behind you. He pressed his chest against your back, his arm resting on your waist. His smile never left his lips as he rubbed the tip of his nose against the back of your neck. You muttered something, pushing his head by the forehead, which made him laugh.
"I told you so," he said, amused.
"Shut up."
"I told you you'd be better off supporting Spain," he insisted. "He's not the right player," he added, tapping his Barcelona teammate's name behind your back.
"Shhh!" you say, putting a finger to your lips. "One more word from you and I'll make you eat a French flag."
"Only if you let me do the same to you with a Spanish flag."
You looked at him out of the corner of your eye, almost judging him for his answer. And this reaction delighted Lamine to the very core of his being. That was exactly what he wanted from you.
"I'm going to the World Cup final, baby…" he whispered.
His lips kissed the nape of your neck several times, his teeth nibbling at your skin here as they did so.
"Mh. I don't care."
"I know that's not true…" he murmured again, but there was now a hint of amusement in his voice.
"No, it's true. It's not that incredible!"
"If it's not that incredible, why be sad that France isn't going to the final?"
You scoffed while placing your phone on the nightstand before turning around, a pout on your lips and your eyebrows furrowed.
"I feel like punching your pretty face," you grumbled, taking his chin between your fingers.
Lamine gave an amused chuckle before gently kissing your lips. You kissed him back, though your lips still held a slight pout. As he placed a hand on your cheek, your hand moved from his chin to the back of his neck. Little by little, Lamine ended up lying down on top of you.
After an exchange, his lips first kissed your jaw and then moved down to your neck, which he nibbled again. At the same time, his hands slowly lifted your shirt until he could take it off. Then he was able to remove your bra. His lips attacked your neck again, nibbling at you again and again as they moved down towards your shoulder.
While he was carefully marking your skin, your hands moved to his back. They first slipped under his t-shirt, making him shiver, but quickly came out so that you could in turn remove this garment from him.
As soon as you were both shirtless, he pressed his torso against your chest, his hands on your hips as he began to rub his crotch against yours. You let out a small sigh, your hands on the small of his back as you felt his cock gradually harden, and your pussy get wet in the process.
When you felt his movements stop so that his hand could slip into your shorts, you stopped him. His eyes showed his surprise, but that quickly changed as you made him reverse your positions. You settled yourself between his legs, then sighed as you pulled down his sweatpants and boxers.
"I'm still upset. But I suppose you deserve my congratulations anyway," you say indifferently.
"Mmm. I'm sure you're annoyed about doing this."
You looked up at him, one eyebrow raised, while he had a silly grin on his face.
"I'm really going to punch you in the face."
Lamine chuckled before gasping at the sudden sensation of your lips around his length. He then sighed, a hand in your hair. He watched you with great interest, the way your lips moved up and down making him even more turned on than he already was.
His lips were slightly parted, just enough to let you hear his sighs of pleasure. Your hands moved slowly along the inside of his thighs, without your rhythm ever changing or being disturbed.
It took all his willpower not to move his hips in sync with you. But you were already a bit grumpy, so he didn't intend to annoy you any further, even though it was extremely tempting.
When he felt a warmth building in his lower abdomen, his grip on your hair tightened. He let out a squeak, barely disguised by a nibble of his lower lip, before pulling you back. He was a little out of breath, while you seemed surprised that he was preventing you from making him come. He usually loved finishing in your mouth!
He gave you no explanation, simply switching your positions again. He hastily removed your shorts and panties, spreading your thighs apart. His eyes lingered on your crotch for a moment, before he rested his face in the hollow of your neck while two of his fingers slipped into your pussy. Your hands rested on his shoulders, while he began to move his fingers inside you.
Little by little, as the speed of his fingers increased, your sounds of pleasure developed. His name escaped your lips in that tone mixing pleasure and despair, and that was one of the things he loved to hear most.
His fingers moved back and forth, then in scissor-like motions. He varied the speeds, never forgetting to whisper sweet nothings to you. When he sensed that you were getting closer and closer to the end, he pulled his face away from your neck to look at you, and more specifically at your face contorting with pleasure. When you reached your orgasm, your pussy clenching for a short moment around his fingers, and a smile appeared on his lips. He always found you so beautiful when you were coming; he was almost addicted to it.
He slowly pulled out his fingers, your body trembling slightly. He then gripped your thighs to wrap your legs around his hips, then, with one hand on each side of your face, slowly pushed his cock into you. You both let out a soft moan at the sweet sensation of feeling each other.
He settled himself more comfortably, you closing your legs properly around his hips, and only then did he begin to move. He started slowly, giving your body time to get used to the presence of his cock inside you, then he accelerated.
His hips rolled as he slowly lowered himself until his forehead could touch yours. Your hands rested on his back again, your fingers moving up and down along his spine. Shivers then ran down his back, accompanied by a small groan.
Your lips moved closer to his, until you could kiss tenderly, a certain contrast to the slightly more brutal rhythm of his hips. Your moans mingled with his sighs and groans, vaguely muffled by your kiss.
When your lips parted, he left them close for a few moments before kissing your neck and whispering praising words. Your nails dug into the skin of his back, making him groan slightly. It wasn't uncomfortable, just surprising since it had been so sudden. But he wasn't really against it.
Soon, just as you were both close to finishing, Lamine accelerated. He propped himself up on one elbow so his free hand could hold your thigh, without moving his face too far from yours.
You were the first to come, moaning his name as you pulled him close to you until his torso pressed against your chest. He started to pull out to finish but, just before he did, his tip already close to coming out, he thrust his cock back into you. Completely enveloped in your warmth that he loved so much, he closed his eyes and groaned a little more when he finally came in his turn.
He let out a long sigh as he opened his eyes, before pulling out and lying down next to you. Lying on his back, he only turned his head towards you. You did the same, a finger approaching his forehead to move the curls that were stuck to his forehead because of the sweat from the effort you both had just made. But seeing the smile on his face, you knew he was about to say something stupid.
"Did you like it?"
"Huh? Yes, as usual," you replied, almost suspicious to hear what was, in fact, a rather normal question.
"I understand you… if I were you, I would also be happy to do that with a player from Spain, a World Cup fina—"
Before he could finish, you were already climbing on top of him for a little fight, probably ready to finally punch him in the face. The slightly menacing look on your face made him laugh. He wrapped his arms around your back, restraining you without hurting you. And then he gave you kisses all over your face, eventually placing a kiss on the bite he had left on your skin a little earlier.
"You're going to support me on Sunday, aren't you?" he asked in a low voice, releasing you from his embrace.
You muttered something while scoffing, before hiding your face in the crook of his neck and nodding your head.
"Yes, yes… I hope you win…"
Lamine smiled as he hugged you, sensing a smile forming on your lips as you enjoyed this intimate moment sharing the warmth of your bodies.
• He is not abrupt. He doesn’t admit that he’s courting you, he just shows up where you are throughout the day.
• He expects intellectual conversation. Challenging him, respectfully disagreeing with him, showing you know your history would impress him.
• He’s not big on frivolous gifts. Instead he would give you ancient Valyrian books, jewelry with dragons and or sapphire gems.
• Not one for PDA, there wouldn’t be too much physical interaction. Once he grows closer to you, you would find his hand on the small of your back or a hand on your thigh during feasts.
• He quietly trains you to survive court politics, teaching you who can be trusted and who smiles with poisoned teeth.
AEGON TARGARYEN
• He makes his intentions very clear by being a total flirt.
• Despite his carefree image, he becomes strangely possessive once his feelings become genuine, always finding excuses to keep you close.
• He makes you laugh constantly, sometimes without even trying.
• When drunk (which isn’t as often as rumors have lead you to believe) he becomes embarrassingly honest, confessing insecurities he’d never admit while sober.
• Underneath his arrogance, he desperately craves your approval. Your disappointment hurts him far more than your anger ever could.
DAEMON TARGARYEN
• He decides you belong beside him long before he ever tells you.
• Every conversation feels intensely personal, as though the rest of the room disappears whenever he looks at you.
• Courtship feels like a challenge. He provokes you, tests your courage, and watches carefully to see whether you back down.
• If you argue with him and stand your ground, his fascination only deepens.
• He is surprisingly attentive in private, remembering tiny details you’d forgotten mentioning months before.
AERION TARGARYEN
• He’s extremely unpredictable. His courtship would be intoxicating one moment and unsettling the next.
• He expects unwavering admiration but becomes fascinated if you refuse to flatter him.
• Every interaction feel like walking the edge of a knife. his charm can disappear as quickly as it appears.
• He is constantly showing off his weath by giving you the most lavish gifts.
• Anyone who insults you would pay the price, his retaliation would be immediate and brutal. Cruel and unusual.
DAERON TARGARYEN
• He ends up falling for you way sooner than he means to.
• Rather than expensive gifts, he leaves handwritten poems or books he thinks you’d enjoy.
• He makes an effort to drink less whenever you are together, wanting you to see the man beneath his reputation.
• Once you get close enough he shares his prophetic dreams only with you, trusting you with fears he reveals to no one else.
• He is often apologizing for not being the prince he thinks you deserve.
VALARR TARGARYEN
• He is a true gentleman and is extremely well mannered.
• Before every tourney, he shyly asks if you would grant him your favor.
• Unlike many princes, Valarr pays close attention to the little things. He remembers your favorite flowers, the songs that made you smile.
• He talks very little about himself, and constantly asks about you. Your family, your house history.
• He is very laid back and love spending time with you. Reading together, riding through the countryside, or escaping noisy feasts to hide somewhere he could simply enjoy your company
BAELOR TARGARYEN
• Rather than trying to impress you with his status, he’d earn your respect through his actions.
• He asks your opinion on important matters, believing a future princess or queen should be an equal partner.
• Making sure you feel seen and heard is one of his top priorities.
• Small acts of service are his love language. Making sure your horse was ready before a ride or sending maesters when you were ill.
• Even after exhausting days , he always finds time to walk with you through the castle gardens at dusk.
MAEKAR TARGARYEN
• He insists you spend time with his children long before any wedding is discussed.
• Rather than asking whether you would make a good wife, he watches to see how you are with children, especially his own.
• Being a widower, he’s had walls up for quite awhile. He struggles but really tries best to show you affection.
• Publicly, he’d remain stoic and formal, but in private you’d catch fleeting moments of tenderness.
• During tournaments, Maekar is never one for grand declarations, but if he rides with your favor tied around his arm, it is because he has already decided there is no one else’s opinion that matters.
SUMMARY: SINCE YOUR SIXTEENTH NAME DAY, THOSE AROUND YOU HAVE NOTICED A CHANGE IN YOU. YOU SEEM TO HAVE BECOME VERY FRIVOLOUS. ON THE DAY OF YOUR EIGHTEENTH NAME DAY PARTY, YOUR UNCLE DAEMON SAW YOU RUNNING AWAY AT TOP SPEED. SO, HE DECIDED TO FOLLOW YOU TO LEARN MORE ABOUT YOUR DOUBLE LIFE.
WORDS: 2983
RATING: 18+
CONTENT: READER IS A TARGARYEN, READER IS THE DAUGHGER OF VISERYS AND AEMMA, READER IS THE OLDER SISTER OF RHAENYRA, READER WORKS IN A BROTHEL, ORAL (F RECEIVING), ANAL, BITING, CHOKING
WARNINGS: UNCLE/NIECE TARGCEST, AGE GAP
Your father didn't really understand you. You had always been a young girl worthy of being a princess, possessing all the qualities and abilities a woman should have. He had never doubted that it would be very easy to find you a husband.
However, now, things weren't so simple anymore. He felt like you weren't really the same person you used to be. Sometimes you would disappear without warning, and only return late the next morning. Or else you would come back in the night, looking disheveled.
He had already tried to confront you about it in order to learn more about your strange new life, but it was useless. He learned nothing about you, about why you were behaving that way.
For a long time, he had told himself that it was normal, that it was because you had passed your sixteenth name day, so you were officially a woman grown. But things had continued as they were until now.
Your father wasn't the only person in your family who noticed that things were different than before. Your sister noticed it too, as did your mother. They had never commented on it, unlike your father, but they saw it.
And of course, that meant that someone else had noticed the change: your uncle Daemon. He, too, had never made any comment on the matter. But for him, it wasn't because he didn't want to upset or hurt you, it was because he didn't see the problem. Well, it wasn't like he could tell anyone that, maybe, he liked the woman you were becoming, both physically and mentally.
He often refrained from rolling his eyes when your father mentioned his worries to him. Viserys sometimes asked him for advice and his opinion, and Daemon always repeated that he was worrying too much and that you were just behaving like a girl your age.
You and Rhaenyra were his two little princesses, so Viserys didn't want anything to happen to you or your little sister. So on your eighteenth name day, you can well imagine the panic on his face when he didn't see you arrive at the party held in your honor.
You eventually arrived, your hair slightly disheveled and your dress wrinkled in spots. Your father couldn't believe that not only were you late, but also in such a state. If you didn't look so much like a Targaryen, you'd be mistaken for a lowborn.
"Where have you been?" he asked, his voice a mixture of concern and anger.
"Nowhere interesting," you replied, shrugging.
Your father sighed and shook his head, quite exasperated by your behavior. Nothing new.
"This celebration is in your honor. The jousting will begin soon," he said, guiding you towards the jousting field.
"Well, I never asked for celebrations in my honor, much less a jousting tourney."
"You are a princess, of course every name day is celebrated with tourneys to see who will honor you!" he said with a little chuckle.
"Great. I can't wait to see which stupid knight will feel all-powerful because of a simple victory, ready to do anything to claim me as if I were nothing more than a common horse to ride."
Viserys found himself flabbergasted as you arrived at the arena. You both went into the stands, you sitting next to your sister, who herself sat next to her friend and daughter of the Hand, Alicent. Your father sat next to your mother.
"I thought you’d never come…" she murmured, glancing at you.
"That was the plan. But I knew Father would have made a terrible scene."
Rhaenyra smiled slightly and nodded in confirmation. Neither you nor she added anything, simply watching the jousts unfold. It was clear that you didn't really want to be here, a bored expression on your face ever since the first knight had entered.
One of them won several times in a row. After giving you a knowing smile, he watched his new opponent arrive. Daemon Targaryen. His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at him. Your uncle already had a confident and arrogant look on his face. He clearly wasn't afraid of losing.
The knight rode up to you and pointed his lance in your direction. You grabbed a crown of flowers and placed it on top of your head. You crossed one of your arms over your chest, the other arm with its elbow on it and your chin resting on your hand.
"Defeat my uncle, and then I will consider giving you my favors," you say with a playful smile.
"And… if I lose?" he asked, lowering his spear.
"Then my uncle will have the favors."
The knight looked more determined than before as he set off on his own for the joust. It was almost frustrating to see how calm Daemon was in the face of this situation. He had no doubt that he would emerge victorious.
And of course, he was right to feel that way. Daemon had indeed won this round. It would be fair to say that your uncle had soundly defeated that knight. And then, Daemon rode up to the stands, his lance pointed in your direction.
"A promise is a promise…" you murmured.
You stood up and approached close enough to slide the flower crown along his lance. Your uncle then gave you a smirk. You then sat back down, giving him a small nod, before he went back into the tourney.
He ended up winning that little tourney in your honor, something you completely ignored. As soon as it was over, you didn't hesitate to leave. But during your escape, Daemon didn't hesitate to catch up with you. He placed his hand on your wrist to stop you.
"Did you enjoy your party?" he asked, releasing your wrist.
"No. Same as usual."
"And yet, I’m the one who won the tourney in your honor, with your favors no less."
"I don’t care. I have to go, goodbye," you said before quickly walking away.
Daemon watched you leave, then chuckled. You were in such a hurry to leave that his curiosity about your new behavior was now thoroughly piqued. If until then he hadn't been keen to know everything in detail, now he wanted to.
He had spent several days analyzing your comings and goings, looking for the right moment to follow you to that mysterious place that seemed to attract you every day.
One night, with a hood up, he decided to follow you. He kept a certain distance so that you wouldn't notice him. He could see that your steps were quick and precise, not hesitating for a single moment on the path you took, taking care to keep your face hidden by a hood. And when you reached the Street of Silk, his brows frowned. He didn't really like the direction you were going.
He told himself he was right to be worried when he saw you enter the brothel. He stood there for a few moments, wondering if you were there as a client or as a worker. Before he decided to go in, he overheard something interesting from two clients who had just left, drunk.
"I can’t believe it! I don’t even get a discount!" grumbled the first one.
"We come here almost every day and this is how we’re treated…" complained the second man. "I’ll never be able to fuck that mysterious whore."
"I’m sure everyone’s lying and she’s just an ordinary whore!"
Daemon approached, keeping his hood low enough to avoid being recognized. Not that his reputation was at risk here, but still, he preferred not to be associated with these men.
"What’s so special about her?" he asked them.
The two drunks looked at him, wondering at first why they were being interrupted, before they answered.
"Well, some say they’ve seen her and that she’s more beautiful than a goddess!" replied the first one.
"Madam calls her the Dragon! Maybe it’s one of the Targaryens," added the second.
"If that’s true, she must be the bastard daughter of one of those idiots. There’s no way a princess would be a whore."
Daemon refrained from rolling his eyes, already annoyed by the conversation with them.
"But anyway, it’s boring to fuck her!" said the first one as if he wasn’t annoyed at not being able to do it a few moments ago. "You’re blindfolded and you can only fuck her in the ass."
"Really?"
"Aye! And she’s the one who does everything, on top of that," he added.
"You have to book her for fucking," the second one added, nodding his head. "It’s because she’s popular, and everyone thinks they’re sleeping with a princess, so everyone’s booking her."
"Book her?" Daemon repeated disdainfully.
He ignored everything the two drunks added and entered the brothel. He walked straight to the counter where the Madam was. She smiled, recognizing a more or less regular client. Daemon then lowered his hood.
"The Dragon."
"She’s already booked for tonight, and tomorrow, and the night after that, and the night after that… well, she’ll be free in two moons."
"I don’t think you understand," Daemon said, frowning. "I don’t care about these booking. I want her now."
"Business is business, my Prince. Come back in two moons, I can already write your name down for a booking."
Daemon frowned further, leaning forward slightly with a threatening look on his face.
"She’s mine all night," he insisted.
"Yes, well… I want compensation, then," she said, raising her eyebrows and lifting her chin.
Daemon scoffed before pulling out a purse and throwing it on the counter, then turning to head towards the corridor.
"It’s right at the back!" she indicated. "Ah… family stories…" she murmured, shaking her head.
Daemon walked towards the indicated room, determined to find his niece amidst this chaos. Eventually, he found a room where several men were queuing. Daemon shrugged his shoulders before heading to the front of the line.
"Sorry, but it’s my turn for the night," he announced, taking the red blindfold from the first person.
"What? But we paid to fuck her!" he snapped.
"Well, find someone else," Daemon concluded, giving him a judgmental look.
The men in line grumbled as they left, while Daemon slipped the blindfold around his eyes. He waited until he heard your voice.
"Come in!"
Daemon felt a warmth spread through his stomach when he had the confirmation that it was you, although he had no doubt about it, that you were the mysterious woman to be booked, a goddess apparently. And fuck, you were!
"Good eveni—"
"What? Don’t I get a full greeting? I was sold a dream," he says with amusement when you don’t finish your word, walking cautiously forward.
"What are you doing here?" you asked, sitting on the bed with only a thin veil covering your body.
"Can't a man have needs with a woman? Oh, or rather a dragon, or a goddess, I'm a bit lost with all these nicknames, I don't know what to call you."
He kept walking until his shins hit the bed, and then he sat up.
"I paid for the night, you know…"
"Really? So you got ripped off. I don’t even work all night."
"Was I?"
You remained silent as you looked at him, a slight smile forming on your lips at the thought that your uncle had swindled the Madame in order to keep you with him alone.
"What did you do?" you asked curiously.
"She didn’t ask me for a specific amount of money. She therefore received coppers," he replied, not really worried about the repercussions.
His hand slowly slid across the bed, and eventually reached your knee, which he gently caressed. Your breath caught for a moment, but then you sighed with contentment.
"Does that bother you?" he asked you.
You did not respond immediately, your eyes fell on his hand on your knee, before looking at his face and his still blindfolded eyes.
"What if I say yes?"
"Try it."
"Yes."
Daemon slowly raised his hands until he undid the blindfold and removed it. His eyes then fell upon your naked body, barely concealed by that scrap of colored veil. You couldn't help but scoff and shake your head.
"But that's not what I was talking about!" you exclaimed.
"You didn’t ask me what I was talking about…"
You scoffed again before snickering and shaking your head. He gently took the blindfold and placed it around your wrists.
"You know that’s not how things work with me here, right?"
"It’s a good thing I don’t care, then."
Daemon pulled the blindfold around your wrists to place them above your head, his free hand forcing you to lie down. He then climbed on top of you, taking the liberty of kissing your lips passionately. You moaned in response to the kiss, spreading your legs to give him room. He slipped in immediately, simultaneously passing a hand between your legs. Your back arched as the tips of his fingers began to play with your clitoris. You moaned a little more, as his lips kissed your neck.
"Daemon…" you moaned, wanting to touch him but held back by himself, who held the blindfold around your wrists. "It’s not fair, let me touch you!"
Daemon ignored your requests, instead caressing your clitoris with more vigor. His lips moved down slightly, just so he could suckle on your nipples, sometimes giving little flicks of his tongue.
His hand on your clitoris gradually stopped as his lips moved up towards your neck, before he guided it towards your mouth. You sucked his fingers enthusiastically until he pulled them out. He kissed your lips and, while you enjoyed this exchange, you squealed as you felt two fingers slowly enter your ass.
"Shhh... it's going to be all right..." he murmured, gently moving his fingers. "It's no different than usual."
"A little bit... usually, I'm the one who sets the pace."
"Well, it's time for a little change."
He continued to move his fingers for a while, whispering sweet nothings to you and kissing your lips. And when he was satisfied, he pulled out his fingers. His hands moved along your body, caressing every millimeter of skin.
He eventually got up, only to undress. His eyes never left you, devouring you with his gaze. When he returned to the bed, he untied the knot of the blindfold on your wrists. You thought you could then touch him as you pleased, but he stopped you. You gasped as he turned you over and put you on all fours. You then turned your head to look at him, observing the way he pushed his cock into your ass, holding your hips firmly. You immediately let out a groan, burying your face in the pillow.
"You're doing really good," he said in a smooth voice, moving his hips faster and faster.
Your breathing and moans were muffled in the pillow, while Daemon didn't hold back his sighs and groans. But your sounds of pleasure became more audible when you were pulled back, the rough fabric of the blindfold around your neck.
The pressure increased when Daemon tightened the blindfold around your neck, although you could still breathe. That didn't stop you from gasping for air while moaning, your eyes fluttering repeatedly.
Daemon leaned forward, pulling you back as well, until your back was against his chest. His free hand slipped between your legs so that, in rhythm with his hip movements, his fingers played with your clitoris.
You then moaned his name, pressing your back against him, as if begging for more. Daemon's lips then touched your shoulder, before he nibbled at it, leaving several marks there, claiming you as his.
Your uncle's breathing was hot and rapid, while his sounds of pleasure became more and more frequent. You no longer knew what to focus on. The pleasure given by his cock, that given by his fingers, his moans, his nibbles or the incessant rubbing of the blindfold around your neck.
And eventually, you reached orgasm, indicated by a small squeal. It didn't take much more for Daemon to do the same. With a final grunt, he finished in your ass, his forehead on the shoulder ravaged by his bites.
He slowly released the blindfold, helping you lie down on the bed as he pulled his cock out. Once you were lying down, you turned onto your back, while Daemon lay down beside you.
"I'm probably fucked," you say, your neck covered in burn marks from the blindfold and your shoulder full of bites.
Daemon didn't seem worried, vaguely shaking his head as he pulled your body against him.
"You should survive."
Suddenly, a string of curses erupted.
"Ah! Someone discovered that she could go fuck herself for that stupid booking," he said, hearing the Madam's voice further into the brothel.
"Oh, I'm really fucked…"
"By me from now on," he completed your words, standing up. "Come on. Even though I would have loved to lie here with you, you have better things to do than stay here," he added, getting dressed.
"No! I came here to free myself from the life my father gave me! I'm not just going back to the Red Keep like nothing happened!"
Daemon remained silent, scrutinizing you, slowly buttoning his shirt. Before he could say anything else, the Madam's voice rang out once more.
"Damn Targaryens!"
"She looks very, very angry," Daemon pointed out, his nose scrunching slightly.
"I hate you," you sighed, getting up quickly, grabbing your clothes to get dressed in a hurry.
"Save that for our wedding night."
"Wedding night... what are you talking about?"
He shrugged, already starting to leave. You groaned before putting on your cloak, pulling up the hood, and following him. Daemon waved to the Madam, who was furious, before going outside with you as if nothing had happened.
SUMMARY: BOBBY AND YOU BOTH WORK AT CAP'N CLARK'S OTTOMAN EMPIRE ALONGSIDE YOUR STUDIES, A JOB THAT IS NOT THE MOST EVENTFUL. DESPITE YOUR RELUCTANCE, YOU JOIN YOUR BOSS IN HIS RESEARCH AFTER HE ASKS FOR YOUR HELP, WITHOUT SUSPECTING WHAT AWAITS YOU.
WORDS: 1845
RATING: 18+
CONTENT: ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP, CANON DIVERGENCE : BOBBY SURVIVES, READER IS VERY CLOSE TO HIT CLARK IN THE FACE, LIKE IF SHE COULD SHE WOULD KILL HIM, NEAR DEATH EXPERIENCE, SEMI-PUBLIC(?), ORAL (F RECEIVING)
WARNINGS: BLOOD
REQUEST: "BOBBY AND READER IN THE BACKROOMS AFTER JUST BARELY ESCAPING DEATH BY THE ENTITY, BOBBY ABOUT TO GO INTO A FULL BLOWN PANIC ATTACK AND JUST DROPS TO HIS KNEES PULLING HER SKIRT UP CLAIMING HE HAS TO HAVE A TASTE OR HE’LL ACTUALLY DIE DUE TO STRESS." BY @small-hulkout154
TAG: @snorklingfae
Your work at Cap’n Clark’s Ottoman Empire wasn’t the most exciting work. Customers weren't exactly rushing in, so everything was pretty calm and you spent more time studying to pass the time than actually doing your job as an employee. Well, it's not like you're complaining about earning a little money without putting in much effort.
Well, sometimes it got so boring that you'd end up doing sellers roleplay with Bobby when Clark was in his office. It was better than staring at the ceiling or calculating the price you would pay if you bought all the furniture available for purchase.
But the routine was broken when your boss asked you for help with something that required a camera. Two paid extra hours? You wouldn't say no. But the visible panic on Clark's face didn't really reassure you. Bobby didn't seem particularly worried, while you were asking yourself a thousand questions.
“We could just refuse,” you said, looking at Bobby. “Seriously! You borrowed the camera so I could film my project, and now we’re going to end up filming who knows what for Clark.”
“Well… it’s kind of my job to film who knows what for Clark.”
“I know,” you grumbled. “But still! I don’t have a good feeling about this.”
Bobby shrugged, making you let out a long, loud sigh.
“Think about it, Bobby! We’re going to do some research, but he doesn’t even specify what kind of research!”
Bobby approached you just to place a lazy kiss on your lips.
“Listen, baby. It’s simple. We film what he wants me to film and then we go home. We'll watch that movie you really wanted to watch because the rental price for that VHS was way too high for what this movie is. Keeping it this long will bankrupt me.”
You rolled your eyes, shaking your head and hitting his arm.
“Don’t worry. We’ll film your project,” he insisted. “Well, mine first. Because I originally borrowed the camera for myself, and you seized the opportunity for your own project.”
“Shut up.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, grabbing the camera.
Despite your hesitation, you accompanied your boyfriend to the shop, joining Clark for his curious research. He hadn't wanted to tell you more, so being in the basement of the shop, where blue tape had been put on the wall, made you panic even more.
But if just listening to Clark and his words seemed crazy to you, seeing him walk through a wall as if it were normal didn't improve the situation. And why does Bobby think it's a good idea to follow him?
“Oh, I should have listened to my mother… Why did I choose Bobby?” you murmured to yourself, staring at the wall.
After several words of encouragement, you closed your eyes as you passed through the wall. You were almost certain that your head started spinning as you looked around at where you were. a semblance of office rooms, with furniture in disarray, similar to that sold in the shop.
“Oh, this isn’t right. We shouldn’t be here,” you said, ready to leave, but Bobby stopped you.
“It’s okay, it’ll be fine.”
You sighed, eventually staying. You inwardly hoped that it was all just a dream, or perhaps a nightmare depending on the point of view, and that you would soon wake up.
Clark kept saying that you were there to do research, and that just made you even more tense than before. And when Clark decided to tie Bobby up to rappel him down a tunnel and film its contents, you wanted to rip him apart right there.
“Am I imagining things or do you want to use my boyfriend as fucking bait?” you asked angrily.
“Baby, I have the camera and I’m a professional at this. It’s for… research.”
“I don’t give a damn about his stupid research. I’m not sending you into unknown territory just to film what’s happening at the bottom of some shitty tunnel.”
“He just has to tell us if anything is wrong and we’ll pull him up,” Clark told you, tying the knot to secure the rope around Bobby.
You watched Bobby approach the tunnel entrance on the steep descent, the rope in your hands and Clark's.
“You’d better come back in one piece. Don’t forget I said yes,” you tell Bobby, a terrified expression on your face.
“Have I already proposed to you?” Bobby asked, ready to go down the tunnel.
“What do you mean ‘already’? I was talking about the roleplay you suggested to me yesterday!”
“Oh…”
Bobby then plunged into the hole, making you roll your eyes. Your tension was at its highest point as you prayed for Bobby to return as soon as possible. Every time he asked for more slack in the rope, you cursed him inwardly.
“Come back, Bobby!” you exclaimed.
Bobby didn't answer, busy observing something. And then suddenly, he began to panic, begging you to pull him back up.
“Hurry up!” you yelled at Clark as you pulled on the rope to help your boyfriend get back safe and sound.
And soon, Bobby was back. You rushed into his arms, taking a deep breath. It was the first time you were happy to smell his strange scent, a mixture of strong cologne and weed. You could hear his heart pounding as he tried desperately to untie the knot.
But the tense calm quickly disappeared as Bobby was pulled back by the thing he had seen down below. He clung desperately to you, just as you cling desperately to him. Clark tried, amid your ear-splitting screams, to untie the knot.
“It’s your fucking knot, Clark! Do something about it!” you shouted.
And when Bobby was pulled back into the tunnel, you started to cry, immediately joining him without hesitation.
“Wait!” Clark exclaimed, watching you slide.
Your breathing came in ragged gasps as you slid down the tunnel. You groaned in pain at your nasty fall, feeling your ankle twist. Another cry escaped you when you saw a deformed creature eerily resembling Clark holding your boyfriend. Bobby screamed in turn, as the creature sank its teeth into his arm, blood spurting and running onto the ground.
“Get away from him!” you shouted.
You pulled a pocketknife from your sock and desperately stabbed the creature in the back, causing him to release Bobby. He then turned towards you, bending down slightly, which allowed you to plant your knife again, but this time in his shoulder.
As the creature cried out in pain, you quickly cut Bobby's rope. You lifted him with difficulty, before taking him by the hand to make you both run.
“Since when do you carry a knife in your socks?” he asked with difficulty.
“Since I’m a woman. Now, hurry up!”
Bobby with his free hand on his wound, you limping, you do your best to escape, passing through rooms and doors without thinking. Your heart was pounding as hard as Bobby's, your ears were ringing. Every little noise seemed suspicious, if they were even real noises you weren't imagining.
“Ha… this way…” said Bobby, pointing to a tunnel with a less steep slope than the first one.
You head towards the tunnel indicated by Bobby. You helped him climb first, which he managed with difficulty, then he helped you do the same. He held out his hand to you, which you immediately took. You groaned as you put pressure on your injured ankle to climb, Bobby's blood dripping onto your forehead.
But eventually, you both manage to climb up and, with that, be safe. Well, safe enough not to be attacked by the creature. No one knew what other danger lurked in that cursed place.
“Let me heal you…” you said, your voice trembling.
You tore off a piece of your t-shirt and then wrapped it around Bobby's arm, making a sort of tourniquet. Bobby wasn't really there, his eyes were glazed over and his mouth was slightly open. He was trying to calm himself, even though he wasn't panicking out loud. And, just as you finished the makeshift tourniquet, you felt him fall to the ground.
“Bobby!”
Yet, he wasn't collapsing from exhaustion as you thought. His hands gripped your hips, his breathing quickened, and suddenly, he pulled up your skirt. You gasped, your hand sliding into his hair.
“What are you doing?” you asked, surprised.
“I just… just… need to be sure that this is real, that I’m really alive, or I’m going to lose my mind!”
You barely had time to say much before your panties were pulled to the side and his tongue was on your clitoris. You gasped again, but this time with pleasure.
You wanted to say that it wasn't the right time, that it was risky to do such a thing when you weren't sure what danger was lurking around you. But the movements of his tongue made you forget all notions of survival instinct.
With his head properly tucked under your skirt, you let go of his hair as he held your hips as if you were his anchor. You felt his hot, rapid breath against the wetness of your pussy, his tongue now moving all along your slit, occasionally lingering on your clitoris.
Your eyes closed as you tried to stand on your feet, which wasn't easy when part of one of your legs was no longer really in good condition. You held back your moans as much as possible, not wanting to alert any other creatures that might be coming your way, or even the weird Clark that had previously attacked Bobby.
“Shit!” you moaned softly, pushing your hips towards his face when you felt him suck on your clitoris.
You could hear Bobby moaning and panting like a starving man. His tongue eventually slipped into your hole, moving back and forth. You staggered slightly, thankfully held firmly by Bobby's grip on your hips. Emotions mixing fear and excitement hit you before you reached orgasm.
Bobby carefully licked up every trace of juice, closing his eyes and sighing as if he had just received the best drug possible. After a few seconds, he removed his head from your skirt and slowly got back on his feet.
He took your face in his hands, before kissing you as if his life depended on it, which you did in return without caring that you were tasting yourself. Your heart beat in rhythm with his, becoming one in that moment of intense stress.
After a moment of reassurance that you were indeed alive, Bobby ended the kiss. Instead, he rested his forehead against yours, the blood that you had received on your forehead then spreading onto his. But again, it was something neither of you cared about.
“Everything’s fine,” you murmured, taking him in your arms.
Bobby nodded, vaguely reassured now. And after a moment of just holding each other, you stepped back.
“Come on, we can’t stay here,” you said tenderly.
Hand in hand, you left the room, hoping to find an emergency exit, if there was one.
