#❀ —— V: THE AFTERMATH ( main . ) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dollfacefantasy · 1 month ago

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DREAM INCARNATE ♡

pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader

summary: you're all logan has left of the past. and when he has nightmares about that night at the mansion, you're the only thing that can keep him from falling victim to the memories that haunt him.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, dubcon, p in v, thigh fucking, somnophilia, cockwarming at the end, nightmares, brief descriptions of blood, injury, and death

wc: 2.7k

kinktober slot: day 14 - somnophilia

The second he steps off the bike he hears your scream, and he already knows he's too late.

The sound echoes across the open expanse of land in front of the school. It's the two syllables of his name, shrieked with pure terror. His feet pound against the stone driveway as he begins sprinting to the main entrance.

Behind the school, an orange glow radiates. It flickers every few seconds, making shadows dance across the lawn in front of him. He knows it's from a fire. He could smell the smoke for miles down the road.

As he reaches the big wooden doorways, that scent morphs into one of blood. The metallic odor is so strong it nearly makes him nauseous. He swallows down his disgust though in favor of getting inside.

He couldn't be too late. He just couldn't be. Everyone's gonna be ok. It's bad, but not as bad as he thinks.

In a way, he was right. It wasn't as bad as he thought. It was so much worse.

His claws are out as soon as he swings the heavy door open, but it's in vain. There's no opponents there waiting for him. Instead, he finds Charles's wheelchair knocked over and empty. He swears his heart drops and his stomach hollows out. In his entire life, he never recalled feeling such horror.

He continues down the entrance hall. The interior of the building is quiet. All the noise, yelling and chanting, comes from outside, probably wherever that fire is. As he walks, he peers into rooms that have been left open. He sees blood smeared across the floor and spattered onto the wall. Bodies peek out from behind ransacked furniture.

When he turns the corner, he finds the first victim. Jean lies there, crumpled up and lifeless. He doesn't have to check on her to know she's dead. Several feet away against the wall Scott sits slumped over, also motionless and morbidly unresponsive. His glasses rest on the floor beside him, the right lens cracked.

He walks faster. The gravity of seeing his teammates like this weighs him down, but he has to get to you. He heard you. There's a chance they haven't finished you off yet.

On the way there, he passes Beast and Rogue and Storm and finally Charles, all in similar states to the first two of his friends he saw. Each one feels worse than any of the bullets he'd taken in his nearly two centuries of life. His mind grows frantic the farther he walks through the aftermath of the massacre. He's desperate to find you when he finally reaches the last room he hadn't checked.

The classroom with large glass windows along the back wall. It had always been your favorite. You loved all the plants in there and how sunlight bathed the room in warmth through those transparent panes.

Now, the desks that had been in neat rows pile on top of each other in haphazard clusters. The board at the end of the room displays some message about killing all mutants. He doesn't catch the specifics because he doesn't care. The only thing he can see is you, limp and mangled below it.

The words above are scrawled in red, and the puddle of scarlet surrounding you leaves no question as to what kind of ink they used.

When he gets to you, you're still twitching. Your eyes are fading, but for the moment, he can still see you inside them.

"I'm here," he chokes out, "I'm here, baby. You called for me. I'm here."

You blink slowly. Without seeing the surrounding scenery, it would look like you were just sleepy, waking up from a lazy afternoon nap. But unlike those occasions, your gaze doesn't hold any love. All he can feel radiating off of you is fear.

"Logan?" you whimper before coughing. Your chest rattles with the urge to clear the blood making it hard for you to breathe. He tries to soothe you through it as best he can, but there's not much he can do.

You regain yourself and continue on with what you had been trying to say.

"Where were you? Why didn't you help us?" you ask, tears gathering in your eyes.

"I- I was- I'm sorry," he says instead of answering the questions. He doesn't want to waste time with any of his pathetic explanations. "I'm here now. We're gonna get you out of here, and it's going to be ok."

Tears leak from your eyes, one rolling out from the inner corner. He can see the streams of water trailing down your face from the glow outside the windows.

"Why didn't you help us?" you cry again, "Why did you leave us to die? Why did you leave me?"

Then his eyes open.

Unlike his usual nightmares, he doesn't yell or shoot straight up when he regains consciousness. His claws don't pop out ready to tear apart the imagined threat. This time, he only jerks a little with a strained gasp. After that, he feels frozen, as if his joints locked in place.

His chest puffs with shallow breaths. It takes his mind a few minutes to catch up. While staring at the dark ceiling above, the image of you dying begins to fade away. That hadn't happened. That wasn't how that part of the night had played out.

The rest of his dream, however, had been more based in reality. Those images of the others strewn across the mansion are harder to clear. He rubs his rough palm over his face, trying to push them away. But he can already feel the ache of self-loathing and guilt gnawing at his insides.

He tries to remember the things you told him on the few rare occasions you had to console him. There's nothing to do about it now. It's in the past. All you can do is try to be better for the future.

Your voice plays these reminders through his head. They help bring him back down a little. He feels the plush comfort of your mattress beneath him and your blankets draped over him. The room is silent except for the muted hum of the air conditioner. There's no screaming or chanting or fire crackling. The smell of death is gone. All there is now is the scent of you.

As he goes through this list, he feels some movement beside him. His head turns, and his eyes land on you. You had shifted around a little in your sleep, rolling onto your other side so that you're facing away from him. He hears you let out a little unconscious sigh.

Even though he couldn't see your face, the vision of you lying there peacefully, completely unaware of his turmoil, brings the slightest bit of softness to his eyes.

He reaches over and rubs the small of your back. You look so delicate right now. He rolls onto his side in the same way you're facing, scooting closer.

The sight of your clean pajamas puts him at ease faster than anything else. There's no blood, no torn seams or other signs of pain. The thin baby blue fabric clings to your figure. He tucks his fingers beneath it, sliding his hand up the warm, smooth expanse of your back. They drag up and down along the path of your spine. He feels you melt a little, growing more relaxed as he strokes you. The idea brings him more comfort, that you were just as soothed by his presence as he was yours.

He doesn't understand how you still feel that way about him after everything. Most days he still questioned why you didn't hate him after what happened to the others. He wouldn't blame you for casting him aside like everyone else did.

But he's trying to do as you often tell him and not dwell on the past. So instead, he focuses on the fact that he needs more of you.

He removes his hand from under your shirt and uses both arms to pull your body to him. His muscular arms encircle your smaller frame and situate you right against his chest like a little teddy bear. Nuzzling into the back of your neck, he can smell your lotion. The light and airy aroma loosens the lingering tension in his shoulders.

He lays some kisses against the skin too. You're so precious in this condition, limp and pliable, easy for him to hold and love on. He needs you like this when he feels this way. As much as your words bring him peace of mind, sometimes he just wants to feel you. To feel that you're still here and that you're safe.

Plus, the physical aspect of holding you also calms him down more than he'd probably ever admit out loud. It's just so hard to be upset when he has the round curve of your ass pressed up against him. Nothing wards off the bad memories like you in his grasp.

He smooths his palms across your belly, gliding them upwards beneath your shirt to cup your breasts. His large hands squeeze them gently. Though the touch is inherently sexual, it's also comforting. He kneads them for a moment before bringing one back down to your pelvis and tucking it under your panties.

You squirm a little from the sudden feeling of being confined and explored. He hears you mumble something incoherent and spots your eyes fluttering a bit.

"Shhh, it's ok, baby. It's just me," he whispers while laying lazy kisses up the column of your throat to below your ear, "You're ok. I've got you."

That's enough to get you to close your eyes again and settle in his arms, but you still babble something he can barely make out.

"Mhm, I know," he murmurs, "You just go back to sleep for me, honey. You're being such a good girl. Giving me just what I need."

He watches you deflate back into your dreams. By now, he's started to fill out beneath the pair of loose sweatpants he had on. He grinds his bulge against your ass with measured rolls of his hips. A soft sigh fans over your shoulder.

At the same time, his fingers in the front swirl around your clit. He teases the little bundle of nerves, drawing tiny patterns of pleasure over it. Your hips push back against him in response. The increased pressure against his cock only drives his need for you more.

His digits drag down your slit and back up to your little nub. He works on you until you're nice and slick between your thighs, ready to take him.

He shifts around a little, adjusting the waistband on his pants to pull his length out. The thick appendage throbs with need for you. He strokes it a few times, feeling the heat beneath his fingers. His other set of digits hooks around the seat of your shorts and panties and pulls them to the side. Pushing his hips forward, he slides his shaft between your thighs.

Your folds engulf him perfectly. He groans softly before beginning to rock his pelvis. He moves in small strokes. The motion isn't rough or primal, just slow and needy. Each drag against your velvety skin coats his cock in your arousal.

His arms get tighter around you. He makes sure he's not holding too tight, not wanting to accidentally snap a rib during this process. You just feel so fucking good. He has to have you so close it feels as though he's trying to absorb you.

He buries his face in your neck, little puffs of air blowing on your skin with each grunt he makes. More wetness gathers where the two of you meet as he keeps thrusting. He feels the fat tip of his cock nudge your clit. He can feel the way your legs squirm at that sensation too.

In your sleep, your hands drift up to hold one of his forearms. You whine softly, but it's crackly and broken. It's not a choice, just a subconscious reaction to the pleasure sizzling between your hips.

He works a little faster now, back and forth, back and forth. Without thinking about it, he lightly bites your shoulder. He doesn't use enough pressure to hurt, but he also is pretty sure there will be marks when he finally lets go.

The dull ache on your shoulder combined with the teasing flicker on your cunt still doesn't wake you. Your eyes don't open until he angles himself back and pops the first couple inches of his shaft into your entrance.

That's when your gossamer lashes lift from your cheeks in the direction of your brow. It takes you a few blinks to comprehend the sensation. You feel the heat of him all around you right away. The mild stretching down below makes your head spin.

He sees you waking and swoops in again, mouth releasing your flesh and migrating to the shell of your ear.

"That feel good, princess?" he mutters as he bottoms out.

After a few lazy blinks, you're able to nod. Your fingers dig into his forearm a little harder.

"Good. Just relax and enjoy it for me, ok?" he mumbles.

He starts to thrust, pumping himself into you at a slow, steady pace. His movements remain controlled. Now wasn't the time to fuck like survival depended on it. That's not what this is about. He has all he needs like this, and he can tell you do too.

You nod to that second question before shutting your eyes again. He feels your head going limp against your pillow and rewards your compliance with some soothing kisses to the area he had bitten before.

"Sweet, sweet girl," he grunts. It's more to himself than you. He's not even sure you'll hear it.

Your body is relaxed again with a handful more thrusts. He doesn't think you're fully asleep, probably drifting on some middle ground between lucidity and sleep.

His cock throbs within you. You're so tight and warm, wetter than you were on the outside. He knows he probably won't last much longer, but that's ok. There didn't need to be a big finish right now.

He pants against your skin, his face tensing with the need to release. His fingers dig into the skin of your chest. The heat in his stomach keeps rising higher and higher as the pressure does the same.

It gets to a point that it finally snaps and his hips jerk, clapping against your ass. He spills deep inside you. The warmth floods your belly. He feels your legs go taut and the way your walls spur him on by contracting around his cock.

He fucks it into you slowly. His body also feels tense for the moment, taking care to remain gentle with you. His hips move in slow rolls to work his cum deeper into you, but they eventually slow down to the occasional twitch. And then finally nothing.

"Gonna be all messy now..." you grumble.

He chuckles against your skin, the sound raspy and low. "I'll clean you up in the morning," he whispers and kisses below your ear, this time the peck chaste. Nothing but pure love in the gesture.

You hum with acknowledgement before yawning. There's a brief pause after that. He stays inside of you, needing to feel that snug embrace for a bit longer. No sound comes from either of you. He's pretty sure you're trying to sleep again, but then you speak.

"Did you have a nightmare?" you whisper.

He hesitates. You already knew the answer. There was no other reason to ask if not to confirm. That doesn't change the fact that he doesn't like showing weakness.

But he's honest with you anyway.

"Mhm," he hums.

You nod, contemplating your next words. "Do you feel better now?" you decide to ask.

"Yeah, baby. You fixed me right up," he responds just as quietly.

And it's the truth. For the moment, he's better. Tomorrow he'll probably have another one of these things, but for tonight you've cured him. He keeps holding you close and finally shuts his eyes again.

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #wolverine imagine #marvel x reader #marvel smut

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guess-my-next-obsession · 3 months ago

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the alchemy | masterlist

pairing: no outbreak!dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

rating: Explicit [18+ only, minors dni, dbf/secret relationship, age gap (joel is 34, reader is 24), explicit smut, reader is described as curvy & only has one parent--all else is open to interpretation (we are POC friendly over here okay!!), sarah exists but isn't a main part of the story, all other warnings and tags will be listed per chapter]

summary: now that you've moved on from college, you're ready to start the newest chapter of your life--adulthood. but when you move back home with your father and are swept back into the magnetic pull of your neighbor, Joel, you find that maybe moving on has nothing to do with leaving the past behind and everything to do with embracing it.

i. the return | i. joel’s pov

ii. the moment

iii. the conversation

iiii. the first time*

iv. the real thing*

v. the confession*

vi. the aftermath*

vii. the confrontation* [Coming Soon]

viii. [Coming Soon]

viiii. [Coming Soon]

x. [Coming Soon]

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal smut #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller tlou #tlou joel #joel x reader #joel the last of us #the alchemy

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humanpurposes · 2 months ago

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August

Part 3: Summer's Over

The aftermath of dinner leaves you with some doubts. The month is drawing to a close and the cracks are starting to show.

Aemond Targaryen x Reader // Modern AU

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist // Read on AO3

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected p in v sex, angst, trauma dumping

Words: 8.8k

A/n: Part 3/3!! Ignoring the fact that it is now October :)

You follow glimpses of him through the house only to lose sight of him at the old oak staircase, but you guess where he is heading.

When you reach his bedroom door it’s closed. You place the tips of your fingers on the door handle. There’s an awful feeling in your stomach, like you’re empty, like you’re missing something. Maybe this was just a cruel joke. Maybe Daeron’s a sore loser and says stuff like this all the time. Maybe it was only a cheap way to cause upset. Maybe Aemond didn’t want to deal with it.

Did he expect you to follow him from the dinner table? Is he expecting you to care?

This isn’t your problem to fix and Aemond isn’t yours to comfort. That evening on the beach, before you would have called him a friend, he said you were a good listener, but when has he asked you for advice in the days since? The lines have all become blurred. You’re not ‘just friends’, that’s clear enough, but you’re not more than that either.

“It’s just that Aemond’s usually into older women–”

If it was only teasing Aemond wouldn’t have left. He would have given something back.

“Aemond?”

At first there’s no audible reply. You hold your breath waiting for a response, even just a sigh, even if he just told you to go away.

You step back, startled as the door opens.

He’s still in his slacks and shirt from dinner, the top few buttons undone and revealing a silver chain sitting at the base of his neck. He takes a moment to look at you, then swallows thickly and steps aside to let you in.

The room is cold and smells of sea salt. A breeze blows in through a thin opening in the window, the curtains thrown open to the violet sky of dusk. The moon is out already, full, bright and beautiful.

You take a few steps before you turn to face his figure standing against the light of the hallway. Muted moonlight shines on his blinded eye and the scar that frames it. His face is passive, calm, but something about this seems so wrong.

What if he doesn’t want you here? What if he wants to be alone?

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he says.

That’s it? You aren’t sure what else you were expecting from someone usually so perfectly composed. Maybe a glimpse into his mind. Maybe a suggestion of how he feels other than trying to seem unbothered. Now you’re standing in a room where you felt at ease only hours before, by the bed where he fucked you, wondering why you even bothered to follow him in the first place.

“It was all very backhanded, what Daeron said,” you say.

Aemond hums in agreement.

“I’m sure he was doing it on purpose, he just wanted to upset you after you beat him.”

You stay in silence, a dangerous game because it gives you a chance to think. There’s something you don’t know, something everyone else is in on. Aemond doesn’t know anything about your past, the people you’ve loved, the people you might have loved if things had been different, the memories that live inside of your head. Equally, you don’t know anything about him.

You can’t take this, the blanks, the empty space, the overwhelming quiet of the wind.

“Do you want me to leave?”

Aemond’s face falls. He comes into you, taking the sides of your face in his hands. Every point of contact sends a shiver through your skin, the heels of his palms by your chin, his thumbs against your cheeks, his fingertips at your neck. “No, I want you to stay.”

Maybe he thinks kissing you will make you forget everything. To an extent, it works. Once his lips are on yours it drowns out all the noise in your head and all you feel is the sensation, the delicate way he moves against your mouth, his heat, his hands trailing down your body.

He’s slow to take off your clothes, to lay you on his bed and kiss the exposed parts of your body. Once he has you how he wants you, bare and breathless and wanting, he tugs at the buttons of his shirt, eye always on you. You figure it’s only fair to admire him back, the lines of his slender and toned torso, the definition in his arms, in his neck when he tenses when his breath hitches.

There’s a dazed look in his face, parted lips, softened brow, as he positions himself between your legs. He wastes no time on preamble or teasing you. Your hands move into his hair. His tongue is firm and purposeful, moving with every jolt of your hips, every sigh and moan. Once he slips a finger inside of you it’s easy to let go, to give into the pleasure and let yourself fall apart, tugging his hair at the roots and you know that he doesn’t mind if it hurts.

He groans as he pulls away from you, straining underneath his slacks.

Helplessly, you reach for him, only managing to graze your nails over his hands as he holds your thighs open. He tilts his head at you as he stands and bares himself, taking his time with it, knowing how desperately you want to feel him near again.

It only takes a few strokes until he’s hard, then he’s leaning over you, dragging his head teasingly against your cunt. Your back arches every time he presses against your clit.

“Please,” you whisper, “Aemond, please,”

“That’s a good girl,” he says with a hum, finally pushing inside you.

You gasp at the sensation, the pleasure through the initial pain. “Need you– need you deeper,” you whine.

“So impatient,” Aemond says, “need to stretch you out first, don’t I?”

You nod and hum incoherently. Anything. Anything he gives you, you’ll take it.

He holds your wrists by your head as he starts to fuck you. He rests his head against yours, lips ghosting over your temple, his breath hot, heavy and strained with grunts and groans. More than anything you crave the sounds he makes, the way his face feels pressed against yours.

You could die when he pulls away, but he repositions himself, laying back on the bed, moving you on top of him to straddle him.

You adjust your hair and brace yourself against his chest with one palm. “I’ve never been on top before.”

“We’ll go slow,” he says as he guides you to sink down onto his cock.

The angle is hollowing. You feel your jaw go slack and Aemond grins at the look on your face. He’s infuriating, intoxicating.

You set yourself a steady rhythm, looking down along your breasts, your stomach, to the point where your bodies come together. Aemond moves against you, pressing deeper every time your hips meet yours.

“Is this good?” you say.

He nearly chokes on his own breath. “Fuck, yes,”

You press your lips together, determined to quicken your pace, chasing the feeling bursting at your core. You’re close. Aemond is holding your hips, bucking up into you, trailing his thumb to your clit to circle over it.

Sounds of pleasure slip past your lips. It’s in the back of your mind to keep quiet, considering the risk of other people being in the house, even if they’re miles away. There’s no space in your mind for logic or self preservation.

It builds slowly, tearing through you, tides and riptides. Aemond holds you as your body starts to shake and eventually you have to push his hand away because it’s too much.

He pulls you into his arms, laying you along his body. Your hair falls over his face and he laughs it off. You bury your face into his neck as he grips you, fucks you frantically.

“I’m going to come,” he hisses against your ear.

You’re floating in the aftermath of your orgasm, hints of pleasure licking up your spine where he pushes against a particular space inside of you. “Please,” you feel yourself mumble, “please, please,”

“Where?”

“Inside me.”

He holds you tighter, goes faster, tries to hold in his moans. When he stills he pushes deeper inside you, bringing his lips to your temple as if to thank you.

Your skin is covered in a thin layer of sweat and now you’ve stopped moving, the breeze dances over you. You press your teeth together to stop yourself from shivering, clinging a little tighter to Aemond for his warmth. He’s sweating too but it doesn’t occur to you to be discouraged.

He slips out of you, places you on your side and covers your bodies with the duvet. You cling to him again, your head on his shoulder, your arm thrown over his stomach. It would be a bad idea to fall asleep here. Even if the heat is inviting, the stillness makes you nervous. You glance at his face and he’s staring seemingly into nowhere. What is he thinking about? What is he picturing beyond the sight of his bedroom, books and childhood memorabilia in the gloom of night?

The wind whistles through the window. Eventually you move away from him, out of the warmth of the duvet and enter the glaring white light of the ensuite. Naked, you stand in front of the mirror. Your hair is messy, your mascara smudged around your eyelids. Pale patches of red and purple proudly mark your thighs and breasts, in places only you and Aemond will see. You look tired. You look like you’ve been fucked.

Back in the bedroom, Aemond has moved from the bed. The curtains and the window are closed. He’s in a t-shirt and a pair of boxers, sitting at the desk, elbows on the surface, looking at something on his phone. When he hears the door he looks at you and quickly turns off the screen. As casually as you can, you put your clothes back on. He’s leaning back in the chair, watching you.

“I’m going to bed,” you say when you’re dressed.

Aemond stands to meet you before you can reach the door. “Listen,” he says, taking a delicate hold of your arm, “thanks for staying. And for checking on me in the first place.”

You shrug. It wasn’t a favour. You wanted to make sure he was alright. “I was worried about you.”

“Don’t be,” he says, and leans in to kiss you. It’s quick, affectionate, almost domestic.

When he pulls away he’s still looking at you. He lets go of your arm, dragging his fingers lightly down your skin until he has no trail left to follow, right to your hand, your fingers. You hesitate, wanting to kiss him again, but something stops you. Something’s still missing.

“Night, Aemond.”

He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eye. “Night.”

It’s raining when you wake up. You’ve been so lucky with the weather all summer, but now the cracks are starting to show. At breakfast you sit with your parents. Your mother asks how your night was, having not seen you since you left the dining room. You say you went to check on Aemond. He was a little upset but he wanted space and you were tired, so you went to bed.

“You two are quite close, I’ve noticed,” she says.

You try not to smile, more out of embarrassment than anything else.

She pulls the same face, trying not to laugh. “I don’t blame you, darling, he’s gorgeous.”

“You saying that must be illegal,” you say.

“Oh please, he’s in his twenties.”

“You’re also married.”

“Oh yeah,” she says, looking at your father, “that too.”

Helaena comes to affectionately pat you on the head when she appears. Aegon grins at you through his teeth, like he knows all your secrets. Daeron is defiant, making a point to greet Viserys, to kiss Alicent on the cheek.

“No Aemond?” Otto says to the Targaryen siblings gathered at one end of the table.

“He got up early I think,” Helaena says, “went for a run.”

You imagine him in a t-shirt and shorts, drenched in rain mingled with sweat, slightly overgrown silver hair sticking to his forehead. You manage a few bites of toast before you start to feel nauseous and try a peach yoghurt instead. It doesn’t help.

You follow Helaena to the library. It’s the perfect weather to watch trash reality TV and psychoanalyse the cast. For a while it’s entertaining, but at some point you start to feel like a scientist watching lab rats.

“How was Aemond last night?” Helaena asks. She’s facing towards the TV, her legs covered in pink patterned leggings, propped up over the arm of the sofa she’s lying on.

“Bothered, clearly, but not very talkative.”

“Hmm.”

An argument has unfolded onscreen. Dreamfyre wanders in through the door and makes a home for herself on Helaena’s lap. “Should I call Cole and ask for some snacks?” she says, flicking the screen of her phone with her thumb.

In a way you’re surprised Aemond hasn’t messaged you, or come to find you, even just to see what you’re up to. You’re sitting on a sofa, a glaringly vacant space next to you.

“I was worried about you.”

“Don’t be.”

“Helaena,”

“Mm hmm?”

“What did Daeron mean about Aemond liking older women?”

She doesn’t respond for a while. The chatter on the TV continues. “He wanted a rise out of Aemond. They do it to each other, they always have.”

“Helaena.”

She turns her head to look at you, craning her neck in an awkward position. You can feel the worry in your face, where it tenses, where your eyes are wide. You’re trying not to overthink it, you really are. Helaena understands it as soon as she sees you. She reaches for the remote to turn the volume down on the TV, shrill, angry voices fading into the hum of electricity. “It’s probably not my place to say, I don’t know what he’s told you.”

He’s told you some things, harmless things. No mention of exes or past summer flings. In a way it scares you that you might become an unmentioned thing in his life.

Helaena shuffles the cat off her lap and sits beside you. “Aemond is…a mystery. He doesn’t tell us anything, then one day something will take us all by surprise.”

“Was him moving back to King’s Landing a surprise?”

“In a way. He was so determined to do his own thing. Get out from under dad’s thumb.”

“So why would he come back?”

“Well he…” she lets out a long sigh. “He got involved with someone while he was working at Harrenhal.”

“A girlfriend.”

“He tried to be all secretive about it but I know when he’s hiding something.”

“Were they together for very long?”

“Two years? Maybe more? He was head over heels for her.”

There have been so many possibilities playing around in your head since last night. Maybe there was a one night stand he wasn’t proud of, maybe an unrequited crush. Two years sounds like a long time to you.

You can’t expect Aemond to have not had a whole life beyond now, beyond you, but there’s a restless feeling in your chest. Daeron mentioning this woman was enough to get to Aemond. And you were the one that went running right to him.

“Sorry, I know you like him,” Helaena says.

“And what, they broke up so he’s moving back?”

“I think it got a bit messy, she was his manager. He probably thought he was better off in a different job, and when your dad is Viserys Targaryen why not take advantage, you know?”

“And she was older than him?”

“Gods yeah, she was twice age, divorced, no kids though.”

“Right.”

“He’s been brooding for months, even over the phone I knew something was bothering him.”

You’re trying to keep your face relaxed. This woman, she’s in the past now, it shouldn’t change how you feel about him, or how he feels about you. But the seed is planted. You don’t know what she looks like but you imagine a deep, sultry laugh in your head, red painted lips, expensive high heels.

“Which is why it’s been so nice to see him come out of his shell lately,” Helaena adds, patting your knee. “You’ve brought that out of him.”

Around lunchtime the weather clears up. The sun shines through the panes of clear and coloured glass in the dining room and Aemond walks in dressed in jeans and red jumper. He sits next to you, smiles at you, offers to pour you a glass of white wine and insists on serving you portions of salad and fries to go with the cuts of steak brought out. His leg rests against yours. When he makes a joke to the table he looks at you while everyone else is laughing. He picks a few stray fries from your plate and grins at you with perfect teeth when you scowl at him. “You’re adorable,” he says, leaning into you, hand wandering to your thigh.

After eating, you hang around with Aemond and his siblings. Aegon claims to have a deck of cards which turns out to be Uno. The lingering tension is obvious. Daeron can’t look Aemond in the eye, even Helaena’s being short with her youngest brother. In the first round of the game you all have a silent agreement to gang up on Daeron and make his life a misery at every opportunity. That makes Aemond smile, so it makes you smile. When Daeron is on the verge of tears Aemond says “fine, we’ll go easy on you then,” and poor Daeron ends up losing again.

“That’s karma, mate,” Aegon says.

After dinner that night you and Aemond drink cocktails, sweet and strong, in the drawing room with the adults. You’re reminded of how charming Aemond is, how well he can work a room when he’s switched on. Always understated, never too brash or too loud. He laughs with your father, compliments your mother’s dress. You feel yourself getting tipsy, hypnotised by the lowlights of the room, the colourful glass lampshades, the glow of the ends of cigarettes.

On your way to bed, Aemond stops you at the bottom of the oak staircase. His pupil is blown wide, black and blue, drinking in the sight of you. He takes a hold of your waist, gently presses you back into the bannister and kisses you like he’ll never get the chance again. Grasping at your body, pushing and pulling you in closer and closer until you’re caged against him.

There’s a silhouette of a woman lingering in the back of your mind. What would a woman from the Riverlands be like, the kind of woman Aemond Targaryen could fall in love with? Did she listen to him talk about history? Did he list his favourite books to her? Was she clever like him, understated like him? If she was divorced was she cold and guarded, or was she gentler?

You shouldn’t overthink it. You shouldn’t think about it at all.

Aemond takes you to his bedroom. He’s eager to get your clothes off, more hurried than he usually is. Once he’s made you come with his fingers and his tongue he gets you on your hands and knees, pushing into you from behind. Your body feels weightless with every thrust inside of you, every snap of his hips against your ass. Your moans are lewd and gasping.

Aemond pulls your torso up, one hand over your mouth, the other keeping you in position. “Can’t fucking help it, can you,” he says between laboured breaths. “Does it feel that good, sweetheart?”

You can only moan against his palm in response.

“You’re so fucking sexy when you’re desperate.”

You’d say the same about him, if you could.

And the days are all fading into one again. Summer will soon be over to the sound of rain hammering against the windows, thunderstorms and the violent roar of the sea.

Daeron’s comment at dinner is mostly forgotten. He and Aemond are joking again, taking their own jabs at Aegon. Helaena is relieved the boys are all friends again, she says she can’t stand it when their family fights. You watch movies indoors, Helaena walks you through a recipe for lemon cakes with the last of the fruit from a tree on the grounds. When it’s not raining you and Aemond walk Vhagar and Sunfyre around the gardens. You spend every night in his bed and wake up in his arms each morning.

One afternoon Aemond decides to take the dogs on a trail along the cliffs. A light shower falls from the sky but most of the path goes through a forest, evergreens, which keep the rain off you. The sea stretches out to your right and Aemond holds your left hand to keep you on his seeing side.

Nothing in particular prompts you, but the thought has been there for some time now. In less than a week you’ll get back into your parents’ car and drive to King’s Landing. You’ll begin the rest of your life. You’ll see your friends again, go to your favourite pubs on Conquest Street, find a job, maybe live for yourself for a little while. And Aemond would be in the same city.

“How come you’re moving back to King’s Landing?”

He’s doing that thing again, not looking at you. He keeps his grip on your hand, pouts his lips slightly, thinking. “It’s where my job is.”

New job, you think. He didn’t have to go work at his father’s company.

He turns his head when you don’t reply, eye meeting yours. “Is that not a good enough explanation for you?” he says with a slight grin.

“I didn’t say there has to be an explanation.”

“But?”

“But you don’t seem that thrilled about it.”

He shrugs. “It’s just how life has worked out.”

You walk on in silence for a few minutes. Aemond keeps looking ahead to make sure the dogs are still in his sight. You feel the weight of his hand in yours, the heat of his skin and his fingers curled over your knuckles.

You catch the side of your mouth in your teeth. “Helaena mentioned you had an ex at Harrenhal.”

“Did she,” Aemond says, stone faced, eye fixed on Vhagar as she prowls around the trunk of a tree. “What did she tell you?”

Twice his age. Divorced. A coworker– no, manager.

“Not much, that you were together for a while and you worked together.”

He stops walking. His gaze is stern, almost focused. In the gloom of the trees and the overcast sky his eye is more grey than blue.

“When did you two break up?”

“January, just after New Year’s.”

“Why?”

“We kept having these fights, and I suppose she didn’t want to deal with it anymore.”

“Did you fight a lot?”

“For the last few months. Work took a lot out of her, and me too, but at some point it became harder to balance everything.”

“She was your manager, right?”

“Hel told you that? Yeah, she was. I know how it sounds, we knew it probably wasn’t a good idea to let anything happen. But we got on, and something did happen, and it worked.”

You try to soften your expression, to show him you’re listening. He’s opening up and that should make you happy, right? “So what went wrong?”

“Grandfather was the one who wanted me to work for Targ Corp. We have a half-sister, Rhaenyra. It's a bit of a weird situation but she took her kids and moved to Pentos with my uncle Daemon and his wife, Laena.”

“Oh,”

Aemond makes a sceptical sound against his teeth. “Father was furious, mum was mortified, I don’t know why she took it so personally, but Rhaenyra was always the favourite. Otto saw the opportunity, as he always does, offered me a job and a place on the board.”

“And you took it?”

“Actually I turned him down. I was happy at Harrenhal, I liked my job, I was trying to convince Alys to move in with me, why would I throw that all away? But then she kept asking about it, said Targ Corp was a bigger company and I’d have better opportunities, said I was stupid to turn down a board position.”

“Didn’t she want you to stay?”

His hand comes to his jaw. “I would have hoped so. After that we kept picking arguments, even at work. It wasn’t feasible anymore. If I was around her we’d fight, if I kept my distance she’d complain. Nothing was ever good enough.”

You feel his hand loosen in its grip. You try to hold onto him tighter, but he slips from your grasp and shoves his hands into the pockets of his coat instead.

“I wanted it to work so badly, but eventually she just… gave up on me,” he says. “Sorry, you probably don’t want to know.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you say. You thread your arm into his like a half-hearted hug. He’s watching the sea, breathing deeply, brow furrowed, lips fallen. “Do you miss her?”

“I miss when things were good. I don’t miss the rest of it.”

After dinner that night, when Aemond starts to corner you and ask if you want to go to bed, you tell him you’re tired and want to go straight to sleep. He seems concerned but doesn’t question you. He walks you to your bedroom and kisses your forehead. Before he can pull away you peck him on the cheek.

When you close the door, you feel an empty space inside your chest. Sleeping in your own bed, you miss the presence of another body beside you, his limbs intertwined with yours, the smell of his shower gel, his sweat, just him. It’s a peaceful sleep nonetheless.

The 31st of August. It’s just after breakfast and this time tomorrow you’ll be driving through the gatehouse of Dragonstone, through the town, past all the bookshops and cafes you could have spent more time in. At least now you can say you’ve spent a month as a guest at a castle. You treat yourself to a final walk through the house, the library, the portrait gallery adorned with paintings of members of the Targaryen family; silver hair is a common theme.

Viserys has already hung up a portrait of himself. He’s sat in a chair in a hall you recognise from the Red Keep; you visited years ago as part of a school trip. To his right stands a woman with silver hair, her hand resting on his shoulder. To his left is another woman, short hair, black suit, the family sigil on her lapel. Sitting below them, on some kind of steps are his remaining four children, Aegon, Helena, Daeron, and Aemond at the end. The painting certainly wasn’t painted in real time, all of Alicent’s kids would have been born after Aemma Arryn died, which means Viserys chose to include his first wife and exclude his second.

You take a step closer until you can see each brushstroke. Aemond looks about ten, chin in his palm, looking solemn and serious where his other siblings have subtle smiles on their faces. His left eye is clouded over, but there’s no scar.

Aemond hasn’t said anything more about the ex, Alys. You found her on LinkedIn one night when you couldn’t sleep. She doesn’t seem to post often, but reposts a lot from her company’s profile, Harrenhal PR. She has a square jaw, a pointed nose, short black hair and pale skin. Gorgeous, but just a normal person.

When you woke up the next morning you felt so guilty you cleared your search history and deleted the app from your phone for good measure.

Helaena said you’d brought something out of Aemond this summer, that you made him happy. You want to make the most of that. And there are twenty four hours left.

The rain has stopped since last night. The air is clean and clear, the sun even feels warm again. You decide to have a final walk around the pool, conveniently spotting Aemond pulling a packet of cigarettes from a back pocket when you open the door to the patio. Really, you’ve been meaning to talk to him. Properly talk to him.

He puts a cigarette between his lips, curled in a half smile as he raises a lighter to the end. Flame flickers, smoke floats from his mouth and disappears into the faint smell of greenery and chlorine. He takes a long drag and pouts his lips to exhale. “So, are you packed yet?”

“Mostly. I’ll only have to throw a few things into my bag before we go.”

He takes another drag, his breath heavy against the back of his throat. Cigarettes smell like nights out, leaning on the balcony of a dorm party, hangovers and questionable decisions. Now cigarettes smell like Aemond and summer.

He’s looking at you intently. “Are you going to miss me?” smirking as he says it.

You force yourself to laugh. For some reason you’d been expecting him to say something sweet, honest. It puts your defences up. No, I’m not. Can’t wait to be rid of you actually. You could play it off like a joke too. You fold your arms and shrug. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

“What’s the plan when you get back, job applications?”

“I guess so. What about you?”

He taps the cigarette, ash floating to the ground. “Well, work.”

You don’t like Aemond pretending to be unserious, his short responses. “Do you have friends in King’s Landing?”

“A few acquaintances. Work will keep me busy enough.”

“Right.” You can feel your heart creeping up into your throat. You can feel it pulsing. Aemond takes another drag and half smiles. “We should go out one night, the two of us.”

He takes the cigarette between two fingers and pulls it away from his mouth. You know something’s gone wrong when that air of self assuredness starts to melt away. He puts his weight into his hand on the balustrade, leaning slightly away from you.

He says your name like he’s exhausted. “Look, we’ve had fun, but I didn’t think–” another drag, another audible breath.

“Didn’t think what?”

“I’m not looking to be in a relationship right now.”

The way he says that word makes you sick. Relationship. Like it’s poison in the air around you, like it’s churning in his stomach. It’s making yours turn now.

In a way you knew it. You knew you were missing something.

Aemond tosses the cigarette onto the grass and places his hand on your arm. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

The space behind your eyes is hot and stinging and your hand is trembling. You try to dig your nails into your palm to make it stop. All of it. Your head has tilted down, your eyes are on the concrete tiles, Aemond’s white sneakers. “Okay,” you say.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologising.”

“I just want to be honest.”

“Hmm.”

“I think you’re amazing, I want you to know that. It’s just not the right time for me.”

He looks at you, a combination of sadness and hopefulness in his expression. Was he planning on telling you this? Or was he going to stop replying your texts once you’d left his family home?

He’s stroking his thumb along your arm. You take a step back.

“I’ll see you at dinner, Aemond.”

He calls your name as you walk away. You don’t need explanations right now. You don’t need honesty. You need to be alone.

Part of you worries he’ll follow you down to the poolside. Part of you wants him to. But you know he won’t. Why would he? When you reach the sunloungers, you look back to the patio and Aemond is gone. You look around you, at this beautiful garden this beautiful house, the trickle and hum of the pool filter, it’s all so perfect. This whole summer has been perfect. But it was always going to end.

Aemond doesn’t show up for dinner. Aegon says he’s got a headache and that he’s going to take the dogs for a walk.

Most of the other guests are leaving tomorrow, the Velaryons, the Wyldes, the Lannisters, and everyone wants to make the most of the night. It’s like a Christmas party, jokes and toasts, stories reminiscing better times, declarations of hopes for the future. Helaena sits beside you and keeps asking you all sorts of questions to keep you engaged in the conversation. You put on your best smile. “I loved that little bakery in town… I can’t believe I got to stay in a castle, I feel like a Princess… alright, I admit it, Aegon has good taste in films.”

You try to ignore the empty space at the head of the table.

Is it better that he said no then and there? Imagine if he’d taken you up on the offer, if you’d gone for dinner or drinks, if you’d ended up at his place or yours. Would it hurt more if he told you a week or a month down the line? Would it have been better if none of this had happened in the first place?

You tell yourself not to regret it. It was good in the moment. It was fun and exciting, it was good to feel wanted for once, and being with him made you happy. You thought it made him happy too.

Dinner is followed by drinks in the drawing room. You join in for a while, until Aegon, Daeron and Helaena want to go down to the beach, one last time for summer’s sake. The sun is still setting and it's mild out. You and Helaena swap your heels for sneakers and wear coats over your dresses, while the boys go in their shirts and slacks.

Damp sand shifts under your shoes and a sharp wind stings against the skin of your cheeks and hands. As the sun slips closer to the horizon the sky burns brighter and fiercer. You breathe in the air, the smell of salt, the sound of the waves. Aegon and Daeron run towards the edge of the water, ditching their shoes, flicking seawater at each other, laughing hysterically.

Helaena links her arm through yours.

“I’m going to miss it here,” you say. Being by the sea in King’s Landing isn’t the same. In the city there are busy harbours, factories and old power stations along the shore. There are some public beaches, none that would offer the same peaceful isolation of right here, right now.

“Me too. I miss it every year, but then we come back to it.”

You can’t see yourself coming back here. Maybe Viserys will invite your parents again, but by next summer you could have a job, your own life in King’s Landing you won’t be able to leave behind for a whole month. And even if you wanted to, this whole place reminds you of Aemond. You imagine Sunfyre and Vhagar running along the beach, pawprints in the sand, Aemond by your side, talking with his hands, retreating into himself when you mentioned King’s Landing.

You don’t want to be upset about it.

“We’ll hang out in King’s Landing,” Helaena says.

A shudder goes through you. “It won’t be like this,” you say.

“Will it matter where we are? We’ll still be friends.”

You look at her, eyes watering with the wind. She smiles.

“Yeah, you’re right, I’m just being stupid.”

She squeezes your arm. “No, you’re not.”

“It’s just, I’ve really liked this. It’s been nice living for myself, not having to think about lectures or exams or what the rest of my life is going to look like, because I’ll figure it out like everyone else. Only it wasn’t– I’m leaving and the month is ending. How could I think this feeling was going to last forever?”

A shriek of laughter from the boys catches both of your attentions. Aegon’s fallen on his arse and drenched himself completely.

“Idiots, they’ll get hypothermia,” Helaena mutters with a grin. She turns back to you. “Maybe this is an ending, but maybe it’s the start of something else.”

You nod. You know she’s right. The world doesn’t start or end with a single person, but it still hurts.

“I thought it was weird Aemond wasn’t at dinner.”

“Yeah, well,”

Helaena looks like she wants to say something, but she pouts her lips, like Aemond does when he’s thinking.

Aegon and Daeron call you down to the shore. You slip your shoes off and place your feet in the water, it’s like ice shooting up through your legs. You shriek and giggle, and kick water at Daeron when he tries to splash you.

Aegon puts one arm around Helaena, another soaked arm around yours. “Ladies, gent, it’s been a pleasure.”

You’d forgotten the Targaryens were about to part ways for another year too. Aemond and Helaena will be in the same city, but Daeron has another year left at Citadel Boys and Aegon never seems to stay in one place for very long.

“Don’t get all emotional on us, Aeg,” Daeron says.

“And don’t miss me too much when you’re in Oldtown, kiddo.”

“I’m sure he’ll survive,” Helaena says.

When you finally reach the top of the path back to the house, shivering and damp, you’re the first to spot someone standing just outside the main doors. You know it’s him, you recognise his silhouette and his posture, the faint glow of a cigarette.

You hang back a little. Aegon and Daeron show off their soaked shirts and wet hair. Helaena gives him a kiss on the cheek and they all head inside.

You stare at each other for a moment, alone.

“Did you, um, have a nice evening?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

He takes another quick drag. “I was just thinking and, you know, I feel bad about, well, everything.”

You’re so ready to get out of the cold. All you want is a shower and the weight of your duvet. You’re too tired to fight this fight. “It’s fine, you were just being honest.”

“But I don’t want you to think–”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you say. “I want to go to bed.”

Aemond hangs his head, taps some ash onto the ground.

You take a step towards the doors. And stop yourself.

“Actually, it’s not fine. You’ve spent the whole summer flirting with me, talking me into your bed, making me think you liked me, just to throw it all back in my face?”

Aemond seems utterly perplexed. “No, gods, don’t say it like that,” he says in a harsh whisper.

But you’re done being gracious and apologetic. “Like what? Like I was a convenient fuck? That’s what this was, wasn’t it? And now I look like a complete dickhead for thinking this actually meant something to you.”

“It does— it did.”

Your heart beats furiously in your chest. How could you possibly believe him? “So you liked me enough for a summer fling, but not enough to keep me around, is that it?”

Aemond tosses his cigarette to the ground and drives it into the gravel with his foot. “Is that really what you think of me?”

“I don’t know what to think. Was this all a lie? Were we playing pretend?”

Every time you caught him looking at you, every coffee he brought you when he was grovelling for your forgiveness, every conversation, every time he kissed you, every night you spent in his bed, it wasn’t real.

“I like you. I never played up my feelings. I wasn’t trying to get something out of you,” he says.

Then why does it have to be so confusing and complicated? Why can’t it be enough that you like him and he likes you? Why can’t it be enough that you like being with him?

Your heart sinks. “Is this about Alys?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, that’s nothing to do with you.”

“Are you not over her or something?”

“Yes! No, I– I don’t fucking know. I haven’t thought about her for months and then…”

“And then what?”

He looks at you like he’s pleading for something. You’re waiting for him to say he still loves her. You’re waiting for him to admit you were just a placeholder, someone to fill a missing space. He huffs in frustration, pressing the heel of his palm against his forehead.

“Do you still have feelings for her?”

“Are you jealous, is that it?”

You flinch at the harshness of his tone. Jealous of someone you’ve never met? Who he never brought up until his brother wanted to be petty? You can’t bring yourself to say it outright. If he still loves her or not, the mere mention of her made him withdraw.

Aemond steadies his breathing. He steps into you and your instinct is to back away but you let yourself stand still. His chest is close to yours, your faces inches apart. He doesn’t touch you. “This,” he says, gesturing between the two of you, “this was good, why can’t we leave it at that?”

Then you do back away from him and as you look at him you realise he’s being sincere. Tears stream from your cheeks. You don’t gasp for air or try to stop yourself from crying. You can’t stay out here in the cold. You can’t look at him any longer.

But you look him in the eye one final time, even though it hurts, even though you want nothing more than to lose yourself in his embrace, and say, “maybe this is for the best. I don’t want to live my life afraid of the future.”

You give him another moment to say something, but all he can do is look at you. There’s nothing else you want from him. You head inside the house, dried tears on your cheeks, your heart that little bit more guarded, into the warm light of the chandeliers hanging over the entrance hall.

The 31st of October. It’s 5pm and it’s already dark. Even though the same thing happens every year it somehow manages to surprise you how short the days are in autumn and winter. You’ve watched daylight come and go from behind the counter of the cafe, a job which your dad thinks is a waste of time. You change out of your t-shirt and apron, into some blue jeans, a black sweater and wrap yourself up in a coat and scarf. As you pass the counter to leave one of your colleagues hands you a white paper bag, a slice of pumpkin loaf cake, which you’ve been eyeing up all day.

You walk quickly to the bus stop, grateful to see you’ve arrived at the same time as the bus, no need to wait in the cold. You find a seat near the back, put some headphones on and take a few bites of the cake, sweet and spicy. Lights and Halloween decorations turn into a blur. You watch people heading home from work, chatting outside pubs, the odd group of girls in fancy dress.

Rain starts to spit against the window as a large white building comes into view. You press the red stop button and stand by the doors as a robotic voiceover will be announcing the next stop as National Museum.

Once you’re off the bus you hurry up the steps to the museum’s main entrance. Someone scans a ticket on your phone, a security guard looks through your bag where he’ll only find your work clothes, a bottle of water and some spare mint tea bags.

Visiting hours are about to end and the main hall of the museum is practically empty, save for a few statues of Kings and Queens and academics. It’s eerie. A few voices echo through the pillars and vaulted ceiling. You see some people dressed in suits and smart dresses head up a marble staircase on the other side of the hall and suppose that’s the direction you’ll be heading in too. There are signs to help as well, pointing you towards the Tyrell Lecture Hall.

Your phone buzzes as you head towards the doors. You fumble to turn it on silent and check an incoming text message. Dyana, from work, the two of you became fast friends when you started working at the cafe: Offer’s still there for tonight btw!! Would be great if you came xx

But then I understand if you wanna spend Halloween talking about dead people. Very fitting lol

You walk towards the door to the lecture hall while looking down at your phone. The book launch ends at 8pm. People probably won’t show up to Dyana’s until 9pm. You could make it. But you don’t have a costume. You could go back to your place first. But then–

Knowing that you’re probably a few steps from walking face first into the doors to the lecture hall, you look up. Someone is holding the door open. You make eye contact with a single blue eye.

“Hi,” Aemond says. He’s in a black turtleneck jumper which accentuates his jaw beautifully. He has a purple lanyard around his neck and a brown coat thrown over his arm. His hair has grown since August.

“Hi,” you say, without taking a breath.

“You’re here for the book launch?”

“Yeah,” you say, peering inside where people are taking their seats on rows of ornate wooden benches around the main stage.

“I didn’t know you were interested in Valryian history?”

“I’m not to be honest, I just thought it would be interesting, especially after spending the summer at Dragonstone…”

An awkward silence falls between you.

You’re still looking at each other and Aemond suddenly smiles. “How are you? You look good,”

You raise an eyebrow.

He clears his throat and runs his free hand through his hair. “I meant, have you found a job yet?” His cheeks and the tip of nose are turning pink.

“I did. Not the one my parents were expecting, but I wanted some time to figure things out, go to book launches and exhibitions and plays, you know?”

“What’s the job?”

“I’m working in a cafe on Sisters Street, Blue Moon.”

His eye brightens. “No way, on Sister’s Street? I pass that place all the time, it’s right by my department building, I keep meaning to go in.”

You try not to frown, but the Red Keep, the main office for Targ Corp, sits on Aegon’s Hill overlooking Blackwater Bay, a good distance from Sisters Street. “Department building?”

“Yeah, so, right, I spent one week working for my father and I hated it. It was all very last minute and my father was furious but I enrolled in a curation course at King’s College.” He holds up his lanyard to show you and sure enough, it’s attached to a student ID card.

“Wow, Aemond, that’s amazing.”

“I was thinking about what you said, actually, about not being afraid to live life.”

You wince. That was the last thing you had said to him, until now. You said that because you were upset and frustrated at him, at his ridiculous logic, that he would end something to avoid an outcome neither of you could be sure of. With time and space to think, you’d realised he had done it for himself, not for you. It hadn’t saved you from the heartbreak, but maybe that was your fault for getting your hopes up. And to hear him say it back to you is a bittersweet feeling.

“I’m really happy for you,” you say.

It’s getting close to the start of the presentation, the other attendees are settling down but you can’t quite bring yourself to walk through the door yet.

Aemond lets the door close so the two of you are alone in the hallway. “Look, I know we’re about to go in, but I’ve thought a lot about you”

You press your jaw together. The morning you left Dragonstone he didn’t show his face at breakfast. He didn’t come to the entrance hall as you were leaving. When Helaena followed you outside and walked with you to your parents’ car, you took a final look at the facade of the castle, at all the individual windows and saw nothing. You thought he wanted to forget you, to move on and leave you in the memory of summer.

“I wasn’t fair to you. And you were right, I was afraid. I was scared of having something good in my life because I thought, what’s the point? It’s not going to last forever.”

“But isn’t the alternative worse?”

“Well, exactly. Helaena says I’m on the right path if I want to be miserable forever.”

“That sounds promising,” you say lightheartedly.

The corners of his mouth curl shyly. “Turns out, I might not want to be miserable forever.”

Being so close to him is comforting and disorientating. You’ve thought about him too, cried over him, thought about what it would be like to kiss him again, to put your head on his chest, pictured a moment when you might run into him by chance. He’s wearing the same aftershave he did in August, underneath a faint smell of smoke and mint.

You’ve forgiven him before. Could you do it again?

“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have pressed you about Alys, it wasn’t my place.”

Aemond tilts his head. “It’s alright. I thought I was over the whole thing, but then I met you and it messed with my head.”

“Oh, sorry,”

“No, sweetheart,” he laughs, “not in a bad way. I know I fucked it when we first met, but the more you were around, the more time I spent with you, all I wanted was for you to like me. I hadn’t felt like that in a long time.”

The sound of applause erupts from inside the hall. Dr Orwyle will be about to start his presentation.

Aemond offers his hand to you. “Come sit with me?” he says, and you take it.

You sit together and find seats near the back. Dr Orwyle is a professor at King’s College, presenting his book The Doom of an Empire. He talks about Old Valyria, its presence as the greatest empire of the ancient world, ruled from a capital built into a volcano, the legends of dragon lords and bloodmages.

In the corner of your eye you see Aemond turning his head towards you occasionally. You catch his eye and he smiles.

As Dr Orwyle starts to talk about the final days of Valyria and the mystery of a disaster known as The Doom, you shuffle in your seat and your leg brushes against Aemond’s. You take a breath and let yourself settle against him.

Aemond is practically bursting with questions for a Q&A portion, and Orwyle recognises him as a member of the King’s College History society. You can’t help but feel proud seeing Aemond so animated talking about something that he loves.

You wait with Aemond to get his copy of the book signed and he’s still talking excitedly about an upcoming exhibition on the Valyrian Freehold, which he’s convinced his father to sponsor and loan pieces to.

And when the event is finished, you and Aemond slip your coats on and walk through the museum, his arm in yours. The rain that was starting as you arrived has lulled into a drizzle. You wait under the cover of the grand archway over the museum’s entrance.

You look up at him, trying to bury his chin in his coat, keeping close to you when he sees you shivering.

Noise exists in the space around you, cars, buses, tyres against the wet roads, music from a pub on the other side of the road. You and Aemond are removed from it, standing on the steps of an ancient building. His voice is gentle and you’re close enough to hear it.

“How are you getting home?” he asks.

“I’ll get the bus.”

“You could always– I’d be more than happy to give you a lift?”

“No, it’s fine, but thank you.”

“Would you text me when you’re home, so I know you’re safe?”

A warmth blooms in your chest. “Yeah, of course.”

You wonder if this could be the last time you see him. Maybe he’s thinking the same. You look towards the bus stop, anticipating that it could show up any moment. You wonder if Dyana’s texted you again, if she’ll be waiting for you to show up at the party. You tell yourself you should go but you don’t want to walk away from him.

“I think you should stop by Blue Moon sometime,” you say.

“Yeah?”

“I can get you a discount on pumpkin spice lattes.”

“Damn, I don’t suppose getting you coffee to apologise will work the same now.”

“No chance.” You let yourself close the distance between you, your chest pressed into his and place a gentle kiss on his cheek. His skin is warm against your lips, his breath hot over your ear. You feel his hands at your waist. “But I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

Thank you so much for following along with this mini series, I really appreciate all the love <3

No Taglists, follow @ficsbygee for updates when I post

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etclouie · 2 months ago

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kinktober day thirteen - mirror sex

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 summary: your boyfriend likes fucking you in front of a mirror and making you watch yourself (Soap MacTavish x fem!reader)

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 warnings: smut with no plot, p in v, no protection, creampie, established relationship, johnny calls reader pretty girl and sweetheart, i think that’s it??, lmk if i missed any

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 word count: 402

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 a/n: okay but why is this the first time i’m writing a scottish character, as a scottish person myself😶

prev day | next day kinktober masterlist | main masterlist

Soap had you pulled into his lap and sat at the edge of the bed, your back to his chest and legs on either side of his.

his thick cock nestled in your warmth and his feet firmly planted on the ground, his chin on your shoulder watching your body as he thrusted up into you.

tutting every time you looked away from yourself, reaching a big hand up to tilt your head back towards the mirror before whispering out into your ear.

“such a pretty girl for me, yeah?”

nodding your head in response, head lulled to the side against his. eyes hooded and loosely following each drag of his cock, mewling as the head of him hit deeper with every thrust.

“there’s my pretty girl, watching me fuck you n’ yer pretty pussy”

whining at his words and turning in on him, forehead against his jaw before he was tilting your head back to the mirror.

the heat in the pit of your stomach growing and your climax nearing, small barely coherent chants of his name was a telltale sign that you were close.

“gonny cum fer me sweetheart?”

nodding at his words while a needy moan pushed past your lips, walls fluttering around him causing his hips to stutter.

his free hand snaking between your legs and two thick fingers pressing to your clit, the need to throw your head back from the pressure overwhelming.

“there we go, let go fer me”

he chuckled out, lips pressing a kiss to your forehead. the fingers against your clit drawing tighter circles and pushing you over the edge, climax hitting you and walls clamping down around him as you came with a cry of his name. his hips bucking up against you before continuing sloppy thrusts, lulling your head back and hands pushing his bigger one away from your aching clit.

“Johnny ‘s too much”

you’d managed to babble out in the hazey aftermath of your climax, hips trying to pull away from his before his hand pushed your hips down against him.

whining at his continued thrusts before a groan fell from his lips, his chin on your shoulder and his hips thrusts shakily into you. his cock throbbing in your warmth as his climax hit him, spurts of white coating your insides. thrusts sloppy as they continued, spilling every drop inside you.

“fucking perfect f’me, take me so well”

⋆˚࿔ reblogs are highly appreciated 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

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doumadono · 1 year ago

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MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II

KVITRAVN (viking!Dabi) - act I • act II • act III • act IV • act V • act VI • act VII

BNHA boys confessing their love - headcanons BNHA boys & gn!reader dressed as them - headcanons Izuku, Katsuki and Shoto & s/o with a heat dizziness Study like Bakugo! - a brief guide to effective study methods Pro hero Dabi - headcanons MHA villains & their Hogwart houses - headcanons Boxer!Bakugo - NSFW headcanons MHA boys & Valentine's Day - headcanons Pro hero Dabi & intern Bakugo - headcanons Deaf!Bakugo & his daughter - headcanons Dabi & an albino girl - headcanons Corrupt cop!Bakugo - NSFW headcanons Bakugo with intermittent explosive disorder - headcanons Step brother!Bakugo - NSFW headcanons Armless!Bakugo - headcanons

Carrying his child - Dabi x Reader Another round - Dabi x Reader (NSFW) His attention - Dabi x Reader NSFW Alphabet - Bakugo Katsuki NSFW Alphabet - Shoto Todoroki NSFW Alphabet - Endeavor Aftermath of the fight - Bakugo Katsuki x Reader Whispers from the abyss - merman!Dabi x fem!OC The haunting melody - Himiko Toga x Reader Whatever it takes - Bakugo Katsuki x Reader A missed call - Hawks x Reader The rain - Shoto Todoroki x Reader A little gesture - Bakugo Katsuki x Reader A snowstorm - Dabi x Reader A hostage - villain!Hawks x Reader Little kitten - Shoto Todoroki x Reader Christmas Jumpers - KiriBaku Intoxicated - Shigaraki x Reader x Dabi (NSFW) A birthday gift - Dabi x Reader (Dabi's birthday event) Happy birthday - Dabi x Reader (NSFW) (Dabi's birthday event) Heated argument - Dabi x Reader (NSFW) (Dabi's birthday event) Fitting room - Dabi x Reader (NSFW) An absolution - priest!Dabi x Reader (NSFW) Shoto realising he's in love The boss - Bakugo Katsuki x Reader (NSFW) A first tattoo - Bakugo Katsuki x Reader (NSFW) How to earn your orgasm - KiriBaku x Reader (NSFW) (Bakugo's bday event) Little slice of happiness - Bakugo x Reader (Bakugo's bday event) Surrendered to the hero - Bakugo x Reader (Bakugo's bday event) The alleway release - Bakugo x Reader (NSFW) Manhunt - villain!Bakugo x Reader (NSFW) Interrupted gameplay - Shigaraki x Reader (NSFW) Little heroine - villain!Bakugo x Reader (NSFW) Steamy shower - Dabi x Reader (NSFW) Silent Waves, Silent Wounds - Touya Todoroki x Reader Remote desires - Dabi x Reader (NSFW)

disclaimer: every link painted in hues other than the default is a blatant shout-out to the fics specially crafted for events/challenges hosted by fellow writers

MAIN MASTERLIST MY HERO ACADEMIA EMERGENCY REQS KO-FI COMMISSIONS

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misguidedasgardian · 5 months ago

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Wildcats

A WALKING DEAD STORY

Summary: You had been alone for a while when you come across Carl, Rick and Michonne, and joining them proved to be challenging but worth it, since you not only met your new family, but also the love of your life: Daryl Dixon.

But life in the apocalypse proved to be full of challenges, not only the living dead, but other humans too, but whatever it comes, you'll face it together.

The dead were walking, and the living have become wild again.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Reader: Fem reader, on her mid-late twenties, use of pronouns she/her.

Warnings: Zombie apocalypse AU, living dead, zombies, guts, blood, guns, injures, cannibalism, cursing, slowburn, age gap (Daryl 40+, reader 25+), smut, fluff, angst, more tags to be added by chapter, this will be OCC for many characters since I'm not the creator or writer to the OG comic/series.

+18, MINORS DNI

Era: This will start after the fall of the prison (Season 4), when everyone is on their own, separately, and go from there.

Main Story

I. Roof cats

II. On the road

III. A leader worth following

IV. Hunter or Prey

V. The need

VI. A time to mourn

VII. A time to break down

Special chapter 0. The Exterminators Inc

VIII. A time to embrace

IX. The road ahead

X. At the brink

XI. Like animals

XII. Hardhome

XIII. The promised land

XIV. Alexandria

XV. The Canary

XVI. Invading species

XVII. Home

XVIII. For survival purposes

XIX. Keep an eye on the horizon

XX. I want it

XXI. AC/DC

XXII. The 97th Hour

XXIII. No one like you ❤️

XXIV. O Children

XXV. When a good man goes to war

XXVI. If that's a savior...

XXVII. ... I'm better off in danger

XXVIII. While you were gone

XXIX. The aftermath

XXX. Out in the cold

XXXI. Lonely Day

XXXII. Prosper season

XXXIII. We are on easy street

XXXIV. In the hen house

XXXV. The rules of the game

#misguidedtwd #misguidedmasterlist #misguidedcats #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl x reader #daryl dixon smut

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eddiesxangel · 1 year ago

Note

spicy aftermath after Eddie surprises you with a new tattoo. i got inspired from this pic of Jake webber (doesnt have to be this specific tattoo but similar position/placement) 😋

Minors go away:

Cw: pure smut, one use of reader calling Eddie ‘Daddy’ (sorry if you’re not into that, just kinda happened), pet names, p in v, blow job, unprotected sex, creampie.

“What did you do?” You asked as Eddie stood infront of the bedroom mirror taking off the opaque plastic taped to his lower stomach.

“Hey sweetness” he smirked.

“What did you do?” You repeated yourself.

As he turned around you were able to read what had been permanently written on his skin.

Lucky You

Right below his bellybutton was etched in black ink; it was such a contrast compared to his milky white skin.

“Lucky you?” You read out loud not understanding.

Eddie gave a smirk before dropping his pants so his somehow already hard cock popped up and hit right below his stomach where the tattoo was.

“Oh” you blushed when it hit you.

“Yea baby, oh… now come over here and see how lucky you can really get.”

This cocky mother fucker.

You walked over to him and dropped you your knees, you couldn’t say no to him. You were already getting wet looking at the tattoo.

“Lucky me? I think you’re the one in luck Mr. Munson?” You winked before take his cock on one hand to guide the tip to your mouth.

You first licked the slit where a drop of precum had come out. The taste of slaty brine makes your eyes roll back into your head as you took in more of the tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue on the most sensitive part of his cock.

“Mmmm baby you’re so good at this”

You hummed at his praise and took him further so his cock was fully in your mouth. You looked up to see his mouth was slightly open and his eyes were crinkled.

“Love the way you take my cock” You felt his palm resting on the back of your head. His fingers were starting to grip your hair.

“Shit maybe I am the lucky one” Eddie have chuckled but then let out another main of pleasure as your soft tongue worked his shaft. You wanted him to feel good, you wanted to be the one to make Eddie feel good. You loved having his cock in your mouth, at your mercy, begging for you to make him cum.

“Fuck baby I wanna cum, but I wanna cum in you”

“That can be arranged” you spoke before you took him all the way down your throat. You eyed the fresh ink as you bobbed your head up and down his length. The ink was still raw, you were careful not to touch it, but you so badly wanted to trace each letter with your tongue when it was fully healed.

“Fuck baby! No no not in your mouth! I want to fuck you so bad” he wined trying to hold off on cumming before he got the chance to fuck your pussy. You watched as the muscles ins his lower stomach flexed making the letters get smaller. Eddie winced at the sting of the tattoo flexing but it was nothing in comparison of the euphoria you were providing with your wet mouth.

You felt Eddie’s grip on your hair tighten as he reluctantly pulled your way. A string of spit connected his cock and your mouth and it didn’t break until Eddie bent down to kiss you before guiding the both of you to the bed.

“Arch your back for me sweetheart and show me what’s mine” Eddie commanded as you got on all fours on top the bed.

You obeyed and lowered your shoulders so they were level to the bed and your ass was as high in the air as it could go.

“Fucking perfect. You were made just for me.” He praised and your pussy bleached at his words.

You felt so exposed and Eddie stood behind you looking at your holes.

“You wanna continue to see how lucky you can get baby?”

“Please” you begged.

Eddie couldn’t stand to see you wiggling your ass in the air any longer without touching you. He needed to feel you.

You felt Eddie’s fingers slowly graze puffy pussy pips from your slit from clit to hole. He stopped at your hole and circled it a few times collecting your juiciest before pulling away.

He could see how wet you had gotten just from sucking his cock and it made him absolutely feral. He sniffed your arousal coating his fingers before placing them into his mouth. His eyes rolled back and he left out a soft moan.

“Baby please” you didn’t know what he was doing back there you just knew he had stopped touching you.

“Fuck my baby has a sweet pussy” he whispered.

“You can have me anytime” you cry just wanting him to fell you.

“Like now?” You could hear the smirk.

“Yes baby! Now! Please” you clue was throbbing you just needed Eddie to do something.

“God I need you”

“Thank take me! I’m yours!”

Eddie didn’t need to be told again, he lined his cock up at your entrance and slowly stretched you out. Savouring each and every glorious inch as your pussy swallowed him to the hilt.

You couldn’t take the lack of speed at which he was going so you decided to rock your hips up and down so you could ride his cock.

“Oh she’s eager” Eddie smacked your ass hard enough it echoed in the room.

“You fill me so good” you get through your teeth. Your pleasure only building more and more with each graze of your g spot.

“Yea baby? You feeling like the lucky one now?”

“Yes Daddy”

“That’s what I like to hear” Eddie’s hips started in time with yours and before you could think you were being pounded into.

The moans that were coming out of your mouth were feral. Your brain had been turned off, all you knew was Eddie’s cock and his cock alone.

Eddie reached under you so he could play with your clothes knowing you would only get off if she got her attention.

“Fuck fuck fuck I’m going from cum!”

“Do it baby, come for me, claim me.”

“Not until you come first”

“I’m there! I’m cumming!” Your body shook under Eddie weight as your inner walls clamped down and the release of serotonin flowed through your body.

Eddie was right there with you shooting his load into your pussy not letting it escape just yet.

After a minute of catching your breath Eddie pulled back and out

“I don’t know who is more lucky” he said as he watched the white fluid slowly drip out of you.

“I’d say we both are” you giggle as Eddie wraps you into his arms.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x afab reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson imagine #requests #TJ’s mailbox

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jammysworks · 1 year ago

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im just thinking about like having a really rough day and coming home to conrad and you’re just tired and you want to feel good and he’s such a sweetheart when it comes to you that he doesn’t tease you like normal, he just eats you out and fucks you and then holds you once you’re in that pleasure-induced haze until you fall asleep

this is such a cute idea. the second i read it i knew it needed to be done! 💗

smut after the cut

18+ MDNI

warnings: connie being a little sweetheart to reader, oral (fem receiving), lots of aftercare <3, p in v, sweet sex, dacryphilia, overstimulation, praise, pet names (baby, good girl, )

word count: 0.5k

your day was terrible. first, you got in an argument with your mom because you woke up later than usual. then, your boss got mad at you for being late even though it was your moms fault for holding you back at the house. the only thing you wanted was to be in conrad’s arms. so, the second you got home you went straight to him. diving your head into his chest. “what’s wrong, baby?” he hated when you had bad days but he always knew that he could fix it. “bad day…i just wanna feel good.” you whine while looking at him with half lidded “fuck me” eyes.

and that’s how you ended up here, with conrad’s face smushed against your pussy and licking up everything you gave him. his tongue licking a strip up your hole and sucking your clit. moans and whimpers becoming the constant aftermath of his ministrations. “thank—ah!—thank you, connie!” you hiccuped aloud as he continued what he was doing; his tongue darting into you and grazing against your walls, while his fingers drew circles on your hip bones and played with your nipples.

“i’m gonna cum” the sentence babbling out like the rest as you raked your nails through conrad’s hair, scratching against his scalp inflicting a groan to erupt from him. the vibrations being your main reason of the knot undoing in your lower abdomen, juices flowing out of your quivering hole. “that’s it..good girl.” he stood from between your legs with one last kiss against your bud, pulling his shirt and sweatpants off leaving him in his boxers. his noticeable bulge twitching from beneath the fabric. out of an act of muscle memory your hands reached for his boxers, pulling them down his thighs. “no, not today. you can give me a blowjob another day this is about you.” he said reaching to pull your hands away from his.

his hips slowly grinding against yours while you whined and moaned his name like a mantra; tears of sweet pleasure dripping down your cheeks. the tip of his dick coming close to slipping out when he pushed himself back into you again. repeating the action over and over until he heard you moan out a silent, “please..faster!” with a simple kiss to the forehead he began pounding into you, hands gently grasping your sides as he pulled you back against him. cries and whines releasing from your mouth, your smaller hands grasping onto his biceps as he lifted your legs up and placed them on his shoulders, seeming to get deeper into your pussy. the pleasurable haze you slipped into becoming more promenaient as your orgasm began to creep closer with each thrust. more slick being produced and leaking down his cock as you melted into the feeling. “go ahead baby, cum for me.” conrad groaned into your ear, the action prompting you to cream on him, the liquid dripping down and coating his thighs.

his own relief pouncing at him shortly after your own, causing his hips to move in a sloppier pattern. the sticky liquid filling up your walls, a warm feeling seeping through your stomach as he pulled out and pushed any residue back into your hole.

bending forward, he placed a meaningful kiss onto your lips and pulled away to reach for clothes for both you and him. his hands finding placement on one of his sweaters and a pair of your panties you left, tossing the clothes onto the bed while he dressed himself into a pair of his boxers. after finishing, he sat on the edge of his mattress to put the clothes on you. slipping under the covers next to you cuddling up close with your warm body as you drifted off into sleep from the exhausting haze he left you in.

this took way longer than it should have i’m sorry but i hope this is ok <3

#conrad fisher #conrad fisher fluff #conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher smut #conrad x reader #conrad #x fem!reader #tsitp x reader #tsitp smut #tsitp s2 #tsitp conrad #the summer i turned pretty #tw smut #tw overstimulation #tw praise kink #team conrad #conrad smut

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melpcmene-a · 2 years ago

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@becomewolf has sent this to victorious: “ look at me. “ / and victorious | send “ look at me. “ for my muse’s reaction to yours grabbing mine by the chin and forcing mine to look at them during a tense / highly emotional moment. ( accepting !! )

Why was the past trying to haunt him? It always does; and she happened to be the icing on the cake, if that cake was the epitome of trauma. Victorious tried to yank his head away. "You shouldn't be here-- Oh, bloody hell, why are you of all people here?"

#[ ans. time lord victorious — i refuse to lose anyone else ]#[ v. main — the aftermath of losing the ponds ]#becomewolf

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enhastolemyheart · 1 year ago

Text

kinktober day 2 — SOMNOPHILIA

nsfw content minors dni.

pairing bf!jay x afab!reader

warnings kissing, p in v, unprotected sex, profanity, nudity, consensual somnophilia, mentions of food, lmk if i missed any.

requested @jaylaxies

note — jay and reader have given each other consent based on this kink beforehand. I just don't mention it cus then my fic would get too long and diverted from the main reason.

word count — 1.5k+

Kinktober masterlist — here

ENJOY READING!! reqs: OPEN!

You woke up feeling all sweaty with shallow breathing; and a pool between your legs.

You turn to your nightstand only to see that the time is nearing four in the morning. You look over to the other side of the bed, seeing your man beside you, sleeping soundly.

Jay looked very peaceful in his sleep. His chest rising and falling in a slow pace, indicating he had fallen into a deep sleep. His ash-blue hair looks a bit messy on the pillow, and the lips for some reason form a small smile.

You heart fills with unfathomable love for him. He looks so pretty and angelic and cute when he's asleep. He suddenly stirs and you freeze in place, eyes wide. He mummers something incoherently under his breath before moving onto his stomach, seeping back into dreamland.

The view of his bare back reminds you of why are awake at this hour in the first place. you had a wet dream. Of Jay. He was fingering you with such passion it drove you crazy. He only increased his need for you to come undone when you were became a moaning mess for him, and only him.

Fuck. What are you going to do now? Jay is a heavy sleeper. And for some reason, you feel embarrassed about the fact that you had a wet dream of him, feeling super needy from the aftermath. You can't disturb him. besides, he had come home today at an unreasonable time — super tired — tonight and there was a long day ahead for him.

You sighed, going out of the comfort of your sheets to use the bathroom; before dozing off to sleep again.

You woke up to feeling of a pair of lips littering kisses all over your neck. Already knowing who it is, the tips of your lips turned up. You open one eye and see your boyfriend already looking at you with the most love-filled gaze, followed by a deep, low chuckle.

"about time you wake up baby," he commented, "I was getting kinda lonely without you awake."

You lazily wrap your arms around him, bringing him close to your chest. You plant a small kiss on his head before closing your eyes, thinking to fall asleep again. But, that chuckle again brings you back to reality as he steps away from you, hands going around the back of your knees and your waist as he suddenly picks you up bridal style. You squeal at the sudden movement asking him where he's taking you.

You didn't know what was happening until you reached the kitchen in his arms and he placed you down softly. Then came to your view, a neatly plated stack of mini pancakes, drizzled with chocolate and maple syrup, even slices of strawberries on the side.

You look up at him — who was standing behind you holding your upper arms as he took in your reaction — and give the biggest beam you ever gave, pulling him in a hug as a silent thank you.

You stood beside him as started cleaning the dishes. As the comfortable silence took in, your mind has drifted off to the sex dream you had only a few hours ago. Should I bring it up with him?

You should.

"hey uh, Jay?" you look at him for brief second before averting your gaze, "I have to tell you something."

He finishes washing hands, lightly shaking them to get rid of excess water. "Yeah? What is it baby? Something wrong?" he leans his palms against the counter, head turned to you.

"No, not really. It's just about this particular dream that I had last night."

He furrows his brows in concentration, "what happend? Did we adopt a cat or something?" His question elicits a low chuckle out of you but you face return to its flush state.

"i had this dream... About you. About us," you spare a glance at him to try and decipher his thoughts. "I was sleeping and- and- you know what, it's okay just forget it."

He stops you from leaving by trapping you between the counter and himself with his arms. His hand tugs at your chin, prompting you to look into his eyes. "Hey, It's okay. If you think I'm gonna judge you, then I wont. Tell me, love."

You sigh, "Okay. I had this dream. I- I was sleeping in the dream and_ and you were whispering i- in my ear, saying you how much of a good girl I was and then you fingered me."

"In your dream?"

"Yes," you admit flushed to the core, "And it felt really really good."

He hums as he takes the information in. "Well, did you like it? Did I make you feel good."

"Yes, Jay, I really liked it and it made me feel so good."

"Thank you for telling me, love." He tuck a stray piece of tangled hair behind your ear, "And don't feel embarrassed about it. Okay?" He slowly rubs your arms to soothe your nerves.

Ugh, you really have the best boyfriend ever— he took care you the whole day and did your skincare together to end the night in a calm manner. Tucking yourselves in bed, you were out like a light.

While you were having the time of your life in dreamland, Jay couldn't even get an ounce of sleep. He kept thinking about what you said in the morning. He cannot fathom the fact that you were peacefully sleeping with no worries whatsoever whereas your man is low-key freaking out. His mind kept going to your dream you shared.

He started to feel aroused. Fuck, all he can think about is the way you were probably creaming and how you were probably really beedy waking up from that dream. He takes a glance at you and ends up groaning, that flimsy night gown you were to bed weren't helping him to distract himself. If anything, it's only adding to the dirty thoughts that find his brain.

Fuck, he's like rock hard at this point. He had to do something about it. I guess you can say he finally read experiencing the way you felt the night before. He contemplates whether to palm himself or not, or even his stick his dick inside your pretty hole.

He has to do it. I mean, you did give him the green light on it.

He strips his pants, along with his boxers and scoots closer to your sleeping body. He touches you, very lightly, making sure that you don't wake up. You are a pretty heavy sleeper anyways so it's fine.

Once he is assured that you are asleep, he slowly — in a teasing way almost — drags his finger down your body to your torso underneath the blanket. His hand comes in contact with the hem of your silk nightgown and pulls it up only till your pussy is exposed. This action causes goosebumps to rise and let out a sound, to which Jay froze for a second but continues his shenanigans when he's in the clear.

His dick twitches, pre cum already prompting to leak when he finds out that you are not wearing any underwear. He thinks if you didn't wear one to bed on purpose. And get this, your heat was actually slick, confirming that you actually want this.

Without any further delay he shifts even more closer to you. If he isn't inside you as soon as possible he would most likely combust.

He takes a hold of his member, pumping himself lightly before raise your legs gently and resting it over his upper thigh. He teases your entrance, your wetness and his creating a heterogenous mixture. He pushes the tip in as slowly as possible. He tries very hard not to make any sound at the feeling of pussy clenching. So hard.

He tries his best to not just ram his dick inside 'cause well, you're sleeping. He follows a slow and steady rhythm. And it was enough for you to stir awake. Immediately as your met with your conscious, he notice the position you're in. You let out a moan as his pace picks up.

"Jay? Oh my god— "

"Oh fuck! you're awake." You notice his thrusting starts to falter but you were quick to tell him to not stop.

"Fuck Jay! Feels so good right now." You hold onto his arms that is wrapped around your waist, as he takes you from behind, lying your side.

"yeah? My pretty baby like to be fucked awake, doesn't she?" He rasps, he close to coming undone right now.

your pretty whines and moans and the way your clenching around him lets him know you're close too.

"come on, come for me, princess."

and you release at his words, probably the most pleasure you've ever faced before. He comes right after, rubbing your belly gently as to award you for being good for him, "omg, Jay. that felt so fucking good."

He chuckles, "well, dreams come true, princess."

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@ ENHASTOLEMYHEART, 2023. - please do not repost, copy or translate.

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justlemmeadoreyou · 9 months ago

Text

Secret Little Rendezvous - 4

Summary: The aftermath of the breakup. You find someone new, and Harry's...jealous?

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: SMUT, 18+, oral (f recieving), p in v sex, kissing?!

(previous part here) | (series masterlist) | (main masterlist)

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Harry was hurting.

He felt a deep sadness in his chest when he broke it off with you, but it was normal…for the most part. It always happened when he let go of someone, because they were getting too attached. And he never wanted that.

But, this time, the pain didn’t go away after one week.

In fact, it skyrocketed when he saw you with Dylan, his hand on your waist, and his lips on your neck.

Apparently, you both had started dating, told the HR too, and it was the talk of the workplace.

It was your birthday this time, and the party was at the same bar Dylan had thrown a bash in, and honestly, he was pissed.

And that’s exactly what you wanted. To piss him off.

It was bad enough that he was dragged by Olivia to this, and he had to see you kiss his cheek every now and then. And the worst part was when Dylan wiped some cake on your cheeks playfully, and then licked it right off, which led to a kiss between you two which almost made him puke. It was all tongues and teeth, with obnoxious sounds that echoed through the whole room.

He threw his drinks on the table and got up, heading out for some fresh air.

He went outside, taking in a deep breath, with air that didn’t come out of Olivia’s mouth.

Yeah, she had been up his ass all night. Not today, not yesterday, since the whole 3 weeks he told her that he had stopped sleeping with you, stopped seeing you.

Of course she was over the moon with that news.

But Harry wasn’t.

After breaking it off with you, he felt weird. He didn’t have someone to rant about his work to, he lost that one person in his life he could talk to about anything. You would bitch about people at work, and he could tell you anything, any weird thing on his mind.

It was so simple with you. Mostly, he would come over at odd times, because he didn’t feel like staying at his own apartment. He would bring takeout, or you would give him something you had cooked and kept in the fridge for the next day.

While you would be up, microwaving it, a loose t-shirt that covered your bum barely, with panties hiding the rest of it and no bra, he would be sat on the dining table.

He would walk to you, his sock-clad feet echoing on the hardwood floor and cup your breasts from behind, pulling the neck of the shirt off your shoulder.

He would kiss your neck then, his soft lips and slight stubble leaving goosebumps in their wake, while you hummed and tried to pay attention to the job in hand.

There would still be about 5 minutes left on the timer, and he would bet that he could make you cum in less than that.

Of course, you would take the bait.

He would grab your bum, swiftly turning you around and lifting you up, making you sit on the kitchen island. Spreading your legs, his green eyes would find yours, full of mischief and lust. It would be perfect. He would ask you to tell him about your day, pulling your shirt off, and throwing it behind, not caring where it landed.

Next would be your underwear, slightly soaked because his stubble against your skin, anywhere, makes your pussy throb.

His lips would be back on your neck again, kissing and sucking, licking, and then doing it all over again. His finger would find your clit, pinching it, rubbing it, teasing you.

“And then I gave him the file, and he just…oh god!...he–” your words cut off by his tongue licking your nipples, the cold air of the room making them harden–perfect to suck and bite on.

The place between your thighs would be a mess. Soft slick trailing down continuously, his fingers spreading it around and making more of a mess.

The way he would play with your nipples, licking and sucking them…it would make you go wild. His fingers in and out of your tiny, weepy hole, other hands spreading your lips apart and rubbing your clit, the soft bundle of nerves oozing with more and wetness.

Of course you would give in. It would take…4 minutes? Tops. Enough for you to cum around his fingers or tongue, and for him to clean it up right after, the work talk long forgotten.

Dessert before dinner, he would say,.

Of course, he missed it. Missed you. Taking the food out of the oven, you would still be naked, after him begging you to not wear clothes. You would give in shortly, wearing nothing but oven mitts as you brought him the food, while he sat on the dining table, shamelessly ogling your naked form.

You would keep the food on the table, cheeks red from embarrassment as you would try to turn around and run away, but would he let it happen? No.

His hand would sneak around your waist, holding you by your stomach and pulling you to sit on his lap, legs spread so you could fit right in between. He would pull the mitts right off your soft, soft hands and then he would open his mouth, making you feed him the food too.

The night would end with you sucking him off right after, and then him bending you over right there, his pants pulled down just enough to pull his throbbing dick, pushing it in the heaven, that was your pussy.

Carrying you to your bed after you were done, he would bring you back to bed, eyes droopy, pussy swollen and sore. He would clean it between your legs, as much as he could, before pressing a kiss to your sweaty forehead.

He would leave sometimes after, staying a while to clean up the kitchen because you fed and fucked him.

You were so good to him, so good for him.

And he let that go so easily.

///

You had gotten a promotion at work.Now, you were now two ranks above Harry, and honestly, it was good.

You wouldn’t have to go for any meetings with other departments now, your assistant would do that. No meeting him in the kitchen, because you bought your own coffee machine.

“Make proper notes, send me meeting minutes within half an hour after the meeting finishes. Don’t sleep during, drink coffee if you want to. Don’t make me regret hiring you.”

You had instructed your assistant Leah properly, and she seemed to get used to the way you liked to work.

It seemed as if everything went right in your life after you ended it with Harry everything aligned perfectly.

Until one day.

The Senior Manager of his department had resigned, and till they found a new one, you had to take over both, with no extra pay.

Of course.

And Hary was the one who first came to you, to submit a sales report of the past month.

“You could leave it with my assistant next time”

“You-you’ve got an assistant?” he asked.

You were in no mood to talk more than 2 sentences with him.

“Yeah. You can go now”

You said to him whilst looking at your computer screen, not even a glance at his face. He got the hint, mumbling a quiet “alright” before walking out and closing the door shut. Maybe he even slammed it a little.

He never came to give you files after that.

///

Dylan had approached you 2 weeks after you and Harry broke it offf. He always used to send you flowers obnoxiously, and somehow, somehow, he knew that you liked carnations, and nothing stopped him from sending a bouquet every week or so. It was kinda sweet.

One morning, he came to keep the flowers on your desk, and you came in right at that moment, and he asked you out.

“Are you seeing anyone?” he had asked, his gaze meeting yours. His eyes were softened, chest rising and falling steadily. He definitely had a crush on you.

“No”

His eyes lit up at that, and he asked if you were free to have a coffee, go see a movie with him, or wanted to have a few drinks. You agreed on coffee, since you had to work till late. It would keep you awake till late too.

Coffee was good. You two had a lot to talk about, even when you worked at the same place, in the same department.

You were happy to finally move on, and Dylan was just the person to help you do it. He was kind, sweet, funny and charming.

“And when I told him to go, he stood there like a complete deer in headlight, like!?”

He started giggling, imagining the exact face you described, and he looked so cute when he smiled.

You couldn't help but feel yourself fall for him. But, you couldn't help but think about Harry. It was hard not to, considering you had just ended things with him recently, and not having him around at all was new.

But being with Dylan felt different, and it was a good different.

He made you laugh and smile in a way that Harry mostly never did. You both talked, and that was a rare case with him, if any at all. He talked, and you had to listen. Even if you were just about sex, he treated you like trash. Never bothered or care for you at all.

Dylan was so much more attentive and caring towards you, sending you flowers like a proper lover, even when you both talked rarely, let alone see him.

As the coffee shop began to close for the night, Dylan offered to walk you home. You accepted, planning on working tomorrow, and grateful for his company.

“You’re really pretty, you know that?”

He had said with a smile, when you were strapping on your heels back, a strand of your hair falling and framing your face.

Your face was oily, all glow gone, and full of sweat. You did not feel beautiful.

As you walked, he took your hand in his, intertwining your fingers, and you couldn't help but feel a spark between you two. It was a simple gesture, but it meant a lot to you.

When you arrived at your doorstep, he turned to face you.

“Will I see you again?” he asked expectantly, a warm glow spread across his face.

You nodded, a smile spreading across your cheeks. Dylan leaned in and gave you a gentle kiss on the cheek. It felt different from the kisses you shared with Harry. It was softer and more meaningful.

You said goodbye to him, feeling giddy.

And when you entered your apartment, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the flowers that Dylan had left on your desk that morning. They were the start of something new and special, and you couldn't wait to see where things would go with him.

And it started with a simple bouquet of carnations and some dedication.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

tell me if you like this! this part is short, but there's going to be one last one! and i know this isn't soo good! but read it, please, and tell me what you think! >.<

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