#At least now neither of them should drift >:’)

[shima-draws]

So I noticed over the past few months that my right joycon has been drifting. But I didn’t realize how fucking BAD it was drifting until I got a pro controller and started running around in Scarlet going “……Holy shit? My camera isn’t constantly drifting down? I don’t have to consciously move the camera back UP every 3 seconds? This is amazing. This is AMAZING I can actually experience this game like a normal person”

[alchemistc]

Taking care of Evan is a novelty, for Tommy.

It had taken them a few missteps, a few hesitant months of learning each other, to really fall into it the way they have now, so he doesn't take for granted the way Eddie pats him on the back and slinks out the door before Evan can go another round of conspiracy theory debate with him, doesn't take for granted the way Evan pouts his ass off all the way to the car knowing Tommy is going to take the doctors instructions not to sleep on a flat surface to heart, doesn't take for granted the way he lets Tommy shoulder his weight on his good side in and out of the elevator, or the sullen twist of his lip while Tommy plops him in his arm chair and heads upstairs to grab them both something to sleep in.

Evan's already got his laptop set up in his lap by the time Tommy makes it back downstairs. It's an argument in the making, Tommy knows it, and yet -

"Don't start," Evan says the moment Tommy tilts his head, like he knows exactly what Tommy's going to say, and Tommy shifts on his feet, lifts a hand up to sluice through his messy curls, and Evans eyes dip closed, a low hum rumbling in his throat.

"You should rest," he says, and Evan's eyes drift open, sliding up to meet Tommy's stubbornly.

"Billy Boils ruined date night, Tommy, and now I don't even get to sleep next to you."

"Will it make you feel better to know neither one of us is enjoying your mattress tonight?"

Evan's gaze darts towards the couch, and he can see it bubbling up - the protests that he's fine, that at least one of them should be comfortable, that it's not necessary - and then they fall away. It'd been a fucking gift, the first time Evan had just let himself be taken care of, and Tommy doesn't take for granted the way Evan's shoulders drift back down from his ears, the pink of his cheeks as he shoots Tommy a pleased look through his lashes.

Tommy tweaks an earlobe and one of Evan's hands drifts up from the keyboard to snag his fingers and squeeze, and Tommy aches, bone deep. No one has ever let him in like this. No one has ever accepted Tommy's desperate need to take care of someone quite like this before.

"Half an hour of Billy Boils and then it's time to sleep, Evan."

The hand around his squeezes, again, before the bratty little look returns to his face. "Yes dad," he snipes, and Tommy flicks a freed finger against his earlobe in retaliation this time.

All in all it's probably closer to an hour. He's in the bathroom, halfway out of his jeans before he decides he should get Evan a pillow now, before the day fully catches up to him, and Evan sneaks a few ass-grabs while he's trying to situate the thing comfortably. Halfway through a quick shower Evan presses through the bathroom door under the guise of brushing his teeth, but once he's rinsed the conditioner out of his hair he catches Evan's lingering gaze, toothbrush long forgotten in his hand, and Tommy has to shoo him out despite how tempting his little come-hither look is. Dried and dressed, he ends up taking three separate trips up the stairs, first for a pillow and blanket of his own, then again for the hoodie it takes a lot of gentle maneuvering to get Evan into, a third time for the bottle of ibuprofen he left up there on maybe the first trip.

By the time he's switching out ice packs and setting a glass of water down, Evan is fully immersed in his rabbit hole, and Tommy is exhausted.

He knows even as he's shutting the light behind him off and drifting to the sound of Evan's voice that it's a losing battle to try to pull Evan from his deep dive. It doesn't stop him from trying one last time before he's lost to the pull of sleep.

---

The thing is, no one's ever let him take care of them like this before.

He's dated the stubborn assholes who refuse because of some lethal combination of ego and masculinity, dated the guys who take one look at him and make some startlingly off base assumptions that somehow still crop up in the gay community as often as in hetero circles. He's always sort of assumed it was a failing on his part - the inability to communicate his desire to be of service, a terrible taste in men who do nothing to compliment his personality.

He'd held the door open for Evan, hand gentle on his back as he guided him into Micelli's, that first time, and he'd watched the pulse in Evan's neck skip and the shy way he'd ducked his head and nearly bumped into the hostess stand, and that alone had made it a hell of a lot harder to abandon Evan at the curb than he'd have liked.

He's never dated someone new, before, and maybe that's part of it too - he'd come out just in time to slam head first into a bunch of labels and roles, with no anchor points, no cadre of queer friends to help him navigate, and he'd run the gamut of shitty one night stands, casual hookups, semi-casual dating, one serious relationship that had made him seriously consider setting down his landing gear and grounding himself for good.

He'd been six months back into the dating game, after a long hard look in the mirror and a frankly terrible conversation with his father, when Evan Buckley stumbled his way into a drawn out handshake and a comedic series of events that had culminated in Tommy being tastefully mauled in the lobby of an emergency room while three nurses tittered behind their hands.

It hadn't taken him long at all to realize that it hadn't just been nerves that made Evan's heart rate jump, in the doorway of an Italian place on his first date with a man.

It was the little things, at first.

A grimace when Evan tilted his head against the back of the couch and Tommy's hand had curled around his neck and searched out knotted muscle - a bone deep sigh when his fingers pressed in and Evan was putty in his arms half-a-minute later.

Evan halfway down a Wikipedia rabbit hole, shoulders hunched in while he scrolled, and Tommy had muted the Kings game to ask him which records Gretzky had broken in LA like he couldn't list them off all in his own, drawing Evan out of his daze just enough to get him to stop hunching quite so much.

The first night he'd let Tommy take him apart, sink into the core of him and pepper the freckles littering his back with kisses, and after, in the soft quiet moments after Tommy'd rolled away to grab a washcloth and Evan had murmured his sleepy protest, he'd blinked open his eyes at the touch of the warm towel glancing across his skin and there'd been something there in his eyes that Tommy hadn't wanted to face head on in that moment - it was the surprise he'd latched on to, because if Evan thought he wasn't worth a little aftercare than Tommy could at least disabuse him of that notion.

On a long weekend they'd spent fucking on surfaces in Evan's loft neither of their knees were young enough for, Evan had hummed his gratitude for the breakfast Tommy dragged himself out of bed to make and then spent the next week avoiding making plans with Tommy until Tommy weaseled it out of him that he felt like he was taking too much, asking too much, accepting too many gestures without reciprocation.

Tommy'd spent their next 24 off together disabusing him of that notion, too.

Six months in the lesson seems to have finally stuck. Evan seeks it out, usually unconsciously - head tipped towards Tommy's mouth to accept the kiss to his birthmark he knows is coming, leaning into the warmth of Tommy's shoulder while they're standing in line together, wandering off to a table on the patio the moment they make it to their favorite coffee shop because Tommy had memorized his coffee order within the first two weeks of seeing each other, a bratty eyeroll and a hidden smile when Tommy slid a plate in front of him while reminding him that no matter how much research he did on killer bees, he'd still need sustenance to actually make it through another shift with Gerrard and said bees.

He'd spent a good month there in the middle giddy with the freedom of it, practically high off the feeling of finally, finally finding a place where his sometimes over-the-top fussing landed in all the right ways.

Evan tucks his half-drunk coffee into the vee of Tommy's legs when he excuses himself for the bathroom and Eddie glances up from his phone, the sight of his raised brow somewhat diminished by the noise he makes when he pulls the ring pop tucked around his thumb from his mouth.

"Please tell me you're not indulging this curse thing."

There's a rise of something in his chest he shoves back down, because he finds the whole Boils thing just as ridiculous as Eddie does, and Evan doesn't need defending, anyway. He sighs. Tries to convince himself he's just imagining the tense pull of Bobby's shoulders, just behind him. "Let him have his flights of fancy," Tommy says, and Eddie rolls his eyes, makes a sound that is suspiciously similar to a whip cracking, and settles back in with his phone and his ring pop.

Behind him, Bobby does nothing in particular, but if Tommy were reading into it, he'd say he slumps a bit.

Evan scoops his coffee back out of Tommy's lap with a grin just as Howie is returning from Denny's room. "How do you feel about a trip to Temecula?" he asks, and Tommy's known for a while now that he's in this for the long haul, but the lack of hesitation on his part before he agrees reminds him of just how fucking deep in he's let himself fall.

Eddie's next up to sign Denny's cast, but he makes sure to make eye contact when he mimes cracking a whip just out of Evan's line of sight.

[pucksandpower]

Crazy Cravings

Max Verstappen x wife!Reader

Summary: pregnancy cravings can make you (and your husband) do crazy things … neither of you particularly minds

Warnings: 18+ content and pregnancy

You sit in the Red Bull Racing garage, feeling the warm Spanish sun on your face through the open door. The roar of engines and whirring of power tools surrounds you as the mechanics prepare for the race.

Your eyes are drawn to the iconic blue and silver cans scattered around the garage. Those tantalizing cans of Red Bull that everyone else seems to be drinking so casually.

Everyone except you and Max, that is.

You rub your rounded belly, feeling your precious cargo kick and squirm inside you. At six months pregnant, your cravings have been … intense, to say the least. But none more powerful than your longing for the crisp, fizzy taste of Red Bull.

The caffeine is off limits, of course. You would never dream of jeopardizing your baby’s health. But oh, how you crave that sweet, energizing flavor that used to be such a routine part of your life.

Max emerges from the back room, his bright grey eyes instantly finding you. He strides over, that effortless confidence and raw athleticism making your heart flutter, even after all these years. His gaze drifts to the Red Bull can in a mechanic’s hand and a grimace crosses his face.

“Liefje, are you alright?” He murmurs, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “I know how much those are torturing you lately.”

You force a smile, not wanting him to worry. “I’m fine, Maxie. Just … ignoring the siren call of carbonated temptation.”

His thumb strokes your cheek as he studies you, clearly not convinced. Max has been so incredibly supportive during this pregnancy, abstaining from Red Bull himself in solidarity. Cutting out his biggest vice, just so you don’t have to be tormented by the sight and scent of it everywhere.

“We should get you out of here,” he says, looping an arm around your waist to help leverage your bulk out of the chair. “The smells can’t be helping those crazy cravings.”

You open your mouth to protest, not wanting to pull him away from his work, but a fresh wave of dizzying desire hits you as a mechanic cracks open another can. The fizzing hiss and unmistakable scent make your mouth water uncontrollably.

“Max ...” you whisper, feeling your throat tighten with barely restrained craving and hormonal tears prickling your eyes.

He follows your yearning gaze to the Red Bull can and understanding dawns. “Oh, liefje ...” Scooping you into his arms, he strides from the garage, shooting an apologetic look at his crew.

Once outside in the fresh air, you bury your face against Max’s shoulder, inhaling his familiar, comforting cologne as he carries you to the motorhome. He eases you onto the couch, brushing kisses along your forehead and temple.

“I’m so sorry, schatje,” he murmurs, anguish lining his handsome features. “I hate seeing you suffer like this. If there was any way I could make the cravings stop ...”

You catch his hand, lacing your fingers through his calloused ones. “Max, you know I would never actually ask you to give up Red Bull, right?”

He shakes his head fiercely. “Not being able to have it for nine months is nothing compared to your sacrifice, carrying our baby. I don’t deserve you.”

Pulling him down beside you, you cup the chiseled line of his jaw, making him meet your gaze. “I happen to think you deserve the very best, Mr. Verstappen. And right now, the very best for both of us would be ...” Your voice cracks with fresh longing. “A damn Red Bull.”

Max’s eyes blaze with sudden determination, that iron willpower that has made him a champion coming to life. “Then that’s what I’ll get you. If those tossers at Red Bull Company won’t make a safe, caffeine-free version for pregnant women, I’ll personally make them regret it.”

You laugh shakily. “Max, you can’t just bully a corporation into creating a new product line for one person’s weird craving!”

“You’re not just one person,” he growls, tangling his fingers in your hair and bringing his forehead to rest against yours. “You’re my everything. And our baby deserves for its mother to be happy and have her cravings satisfied.”

Pressing a fierce kiss to your lips, he adds, “I’m calling them right now. And then straight to the CEO, if I have to. I’ll get you that Red Bull if it’s the last thing I do.”

True to his word, the indomitable Max Verstappen spends the next several days working every possible connection and calling in every favor. You catch bits of conversations, his clipped tones making it clear just how serious he is about this bizarre quest.

“No, I don’t care if it’s not ‘cost-effective’. This is for my very pregnant wife ...”

“She’s risking her health to grow an entire person! The least your company can do is make a freaking caffeine-free energy drink ...”

The crew quickly learns not to open any Red Bull around you, lest they face the wrath of an overprotective Max. Which is slightly embarrassing … but also incredibly sweet.

Your hormones most definitely approve.

Finally, there’s a break in the stalemate. Helmut Marko himself shows up at the motor home, those bushy salt-and-pepper eyebrows furrowed.

“Max, this is ridiculous. They will not reconfigure an entire product line just because Y/N is having a little … craving.”

You brace yourself for the explosion, but Max just levels Helmut with that intense stare. “If you could experience these cravings yourself, you would be singing a different tune. Y/N is sacrificing everything to have our baby. The least Red Bull can do is give her a safe option to have the flavor she misses so much.”

Helmut’s expression softens slightly at the obvious devotion in Max’s voice. “You know that corporate will never go for it. Not for just one person ...”

“Then make it for all the other pregnant women dealing with the same issues,” Max returns, unruffled. “Or is a company that plasters ‘Gives You Wings’ on every can really too cowardly to follow through on empowering people?”

You suck in a shocked breath at his daring play. But the flicker of anger and resigned capitulation in Helmut’s eyes shows that it worked.

“Fine, you little shit,” the older man growls. “I’ll talk to product development. But I’m not making any promises!”

Except somehow … Max’s sheer bullheaded tenacity eventually batters through all the corporate resistance and red tape. Three weeks later, an unmistakable bright blue can appears on the counter, the iconic Red Bull logo stamped across it.

“What’s this?” You ask in confusion.

Max slides an arm around your waist, beaming proudly. “Open it and see.”

You crack the seal, sniffing cautiously … and almost melt at the nostalgic, beloved scent of Red Bull. But just as you start to panic about caffeine, you notice the slightly different flavor.

“Max, is this ...”

He nods, grinning. “Zero caffeine but all the taste you’ve been craving. No more tears over those damn energy drink cans, okay?”

Throwing your arms around him, you yank his head down to capture his mouth in a grateful kiss. “Have I mentioned lately how incredible you are?”

“Once or twice,” he jokes, then sobers, cupping your belly. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make you and our baby happy.”

“You’re giving me everything I ever wanted and more.” You take a long pull of the perfectly flavored liquid, sighing in blissful satisfaction. “We hit the jackpot with you, Max Verstappen.”

He kisses you again, reveling in your obvious enjoyment. “The only jackpot I need is right here.”

***

Your baby bump has popped out to truly impressive proportions now at eight months along. What started as an innocent craving for Red Bull has escalated into an all-out physiological war.

Nothing seems to satisfy you for long — you’re a walking bundle of hormones and insatiable desires.

From the plush solitude of the Red Bull hospitality suite, you try not to gaze wistfully toward the Ferrari encampment. But you can’t resist fixating on the tantalizing cones of rich gelato constantly streaming from their hospitality tent.

Watching a couple of Ferrari mechanics stroll by, licking at scoops of pistachio and stracciatella, is enough to kickstart a powerful new yearning. Your mouth waters shamelessly as they pass, the creamy dessert leaving you weak in the knees. Before you can overthink it, you’re shuffling toward the entrance, one hand cradling your belly.

“Scusi,” you call out hesitantly as you peek inside. “Mi dispiace … is it possible to get some gelato?”

You half expect to be waved away — it’s well known that the Ferrari team is notoriously insular and protective of their spoils. But the cheerful greeting you receive is instantaneous and overwhelming.

“Madonna mia! Look at this beautiful piccina!”

Suddenly you’re engulfed by a whirlwind of chattering Italian voices, greeted by smiling faces from the team of elderly signoras who comprise the Ferrari hospitality staff. Weathered hands pat your belly and cheeks, clucking sympathetically at your swollen state.

“You poor bambina, absolutely enorme! Of course we’ll get you some gelato to refresh you. And biscotti too! You need to keep up your energy, si?”

You’re ushered toward a plush sofa, various grandmotherly types fussing over you like you’re the most delicate, precious thing. It’s … surprisingly wonderful. They clearly adore babies and pregnant women. You get the sense that indulging a mother-to-be is hardwired into their very beings.

A tray of gelato cups appears, the rainbow of flavors almost dazzling in their variety — chocolate, pistachio, prickly pear, lemon, stracciatella. Before you can reach for one, it’s plucked from your grasp.

“No no no! Leave it to Nonna Maria.” A stout signora with a green paisley dress and frosted silver curls shakes her head sternly. “I’ll start you with the lemon to whet your appetite. Then a nice creamy stracciatella as a proper treat for the bambino.”

The tangy flavor of the lemon gelato hits your craving exquisitely. As soon as you’ve polished off that cup, Nonna Maria presents another brimming with the creamy chocolate chip perfection of stracciatella. You moan in appreciation, unbothered by the chorus of approving noises from your doting new entourage.

Before you know it, you’ve been plied with cups of hazelnut, strawberry, and caramel flavors as well. These hospitable Italian ladies simply won’t be deterred from pampering a future mamma. As you scrape the last smears of gelato from a ramekin, a new grandmother settles on the sofa beside you.

“Now ... tell Nonna Gina what this little maschietto or bambina has been craving, eh?” She pats your belly affectionately. “We have chefs who can whip up anything your heart desires!”

Is it a pregnancy thing, this sudden wave of tears that blurs your vision? Or just being so insanely touched by the kindness and maternal care of these lovely strangers? You blink rapidly, swallowing hard.

“Honestly … gelato has been my biggest craving these past couple days. I don’t know if I can eat another bite.”

A chorus of disapproving gasps and tuts rises from the assembled grandmothers. “Bah! This pregnancy has ruined your appetite, piccina,” one crows, waving a hand dismissively. “We’ll soon get it back to rights, don’t you worry.”

For the next hour, you’re lavished with attention, fussed over and coddled like the most precious jewel. Cold drinks and chilled towels appear to keep you comfortable as the nonnas take turns sitting with you, petting your belly and swapping outrageous birth stories.

Their colorful Italian voices swell and ebb as they bicker over whose recipe for pasta al ragu is most authentic, who has the most grandchildren, and whose first-born grandson is most handsome.

It’s chaos and noise and overwhelming affection … and you’ve never felt so utterly content.

As the afternoon light slants golden through the awning, a familiar figure appears in the entrance, haloed by the fiery rays.

“Liefje? I’ve been looking everywhere ...” Max’s disbelieving gaze sweeps over the scene in front of him — you, surrounded by a veritable coven of grandmotherly Italians who seem entirely absorbed with you. “What in the world ...”

A chubby signora with a bright orange shawl wrapped around her ample form hops up, beaming widely. “Ahh! We have been absolutely spoiling your beautiful wife, of course. Did you know she had a craving for gelato? Well, no problem for us — we have taken her like one of our own bambinas!”

The others cluck and murmur in outraged agreement at his shocked expression.

“We absolutely will not let a piccina in such a state go hungry or uncomfortable! Now you sit down so we can get you a plate of some proper food too!”

Max gapes at you, utterly nonplussed as you grin back at him with unabashed glee, utterly stuffed with Italian desserts and reveling in the indulgent babying. You pat the space beside you invitingly.

“You’ve got to try Nonna Gina’s tiramisu, Maxie. It’ll knock your socks off.”

He settles beside you, slinging an arm around your shoulders and still looking rather dazed. But the instant the first warm smile and pat lands on his arm or knee, Max’s expression melts. This team of fussing Italian grandmothers has clearly adopted you both as their own.

Nonna Maria reappears, shoving a plate stacked with crispy arancini, indulgent risotto alla Milanese, and a creamy slice of tiramisu into your husband’s hands. “Eat up! You need to keep your strength up too, caring for this sweet cosa bella.” She plants bristly kisses on both your cheeks before scurrying off again.

Max watches her go, then turns to you with a bemused chuckle, squeezing you close. “Well, schatje. I have to hand it to you — at least your pregnancy cravings bring you to some … interesting places.”

You hum in agreement, perfectly content as you snuggle against his side. “Can you really think of a better place for me to nest?” You grin as another nonna appears to pat his cheek, welcoming him into the chaotic fold. “I think I may have just found my second family.”

He tilts your chin up, eyes sparkling with warmth. “Anything that makes you happy and keeps our baby healthy.”

As he kisses you tenderly, surrounded by clucking encouragement and rapturous croons of “bello, bellisimo” from your new Italian grandmothers, you know you’ve never felt so blissfully cherished.

You and Max make your way slowly back to the Red Bull motorhome, stuffed to the gills with gelato and trailed by a gaggle of besotted well-wishers calling out farewells and advice.

“I still can’t believe you managed to befriend the entirety of Ferrari hospitality,” Max laughs, helping ease you onto the couch in his driver’s room. He nudges your belly playfully. “This little one is shaping up to be quite the international charmer!”

“Says the man who single-handedly compelled Red Bull to create an entirely new product line,” you point out, patting your swollen middle contentedly. “I have a feeling this baby is going to be the most spoiled child on earth.”

Max settled beside you, gathering you close with a tender smile. “Can you blame all our people for wanting to give the world to you two?” His thumb traced your jawline reverently. “You’re carrying a little miracle, liefje.”

Your breath catches, as it so often did when he looks at you like that. Like you’re his entire universe. With so much pure adoration and love shining in those grey eyes.

“Our miracle,” you correct softly, cradling his calloused hand over your belly. “I couldn’t have done it without you. Not just supporting me … but giving me everything I could ever dream of.”

He opens his mouth like he wanted to protest, but you press on, needing him to understand how treasured he makes you feel.

“You don’t stop until I’m happy. Even when I get these raging, random cravings that probably seem crazy, you move heaven and earth to give me whatever I need. Most people would never ...”

“Neither of us is most people,” Max interrupts fiercely. He presses a searing kiss to your lips, then the swell of your abdomen. “You and our little one are my entire world. I’ll spend every day showing you how much I love you both, how grateful I am to have you in my life.”

Hormones raging, you pull his mouth back to yours, savoring the taste and feel of him surrounding you. When you finally part, you rest your forehead against his.

“In that case, you better rest up for tonight,” you tease. “I have a feeling that someone’s going to get a craving for sardines and waffles right around midnight.”

***

At nine months pregnant, you feel like a blissfully beached whale.

Your belly protrudes so massively that you can barely see your feet anymore. Simple tasks like tying your shoes or rolling over in bed have become awkward geometric obstacles. Max has to help you up from every chair or couch, his strong arms levering your frame into a vertical position.

Lingering in the paddock is no longer an option either. You’ve been gently but firmly ordered back home to Monaco to prepare for the baby’s arrival.

Thank goodness your nesting instincts are going full tilt — otherwise you might go stir crazy waiting for this little one to make their grand debut. You’ve rearranged and re-organized the nursery a dozen times, washed and rewashed all the tiny onesies and miniature accessories, and baked enough lactation cookies to feed an army of nursing mothers.

Really, there’s only one craving occupying your mind now …

The thump of shoes in the hall makes you look up eagerly. Max appears in the doorway of the sunlit nursery, loose waves of brown hair framing his face. The plain white tee stretches enticingly across his chest and shoulders, making your mouth water for an entirely different reason than food.

“Hey schatje,” he greets, eyes crinkling at the corners as he takes in your flushed cheeks. A knowing smirk tugs at one side of his mouth. “Were you just ... thinking about me?”

You shake your head adamantly, wincing as the motion makes your whole body ache in protest. “Maybe just a little. This particular craving is getting out of control.”

Crossing to you in two strides, Max cups your jaw and brings your lips crashing together in a searing kiss. His tongue sweeps demanding and possessive into your mouth, making you whimper faintly. That intoxicating masculine scent of fresh sweat, motor oil, and sandalwood surrounds you in an alluring cloud.

After all these years, just the taste and smell of your husband is enough to drench you in molten wanting. Baby or no baby, Max Verstappen is still the sexiest goddamn thing on two legs.

“Mmm, I know exactly what you need,” he rumbles against your neck, nipping a tingling path along your sensitive skin. “Luckily for you, I’ve got a free schedule all afternoon to help take care of this craving ...”

He scoops you into his arms effortlessly, cradling your heavy weight against his chest to carry you to the bedroom. You twine your arms shamelessly around his neck, luxuriating in the hard strength of his body against yours.

“Aren’t you worried about ... squashing the baby?”

“Not at all,” he deposits you carefully on the bed. Those bright grey eyes darken with blazing lust. “I’m going to take such good care of you and our little one.”

His hands and mouth seem to be everywhere at once — caressing, nibbling, and stroking every sensitive inch he can lavish adoring attention on. You keen softly when he dips his tongue into your navel, rubbing reverent circles over the tight swell of your belly.

“You’re so gorgeous like this,” Max murmurs, lips brushing the crease where your torso and bump meet. “So ripe and round and radiant with our child. My beautiful, strong girl ...”

All you can do is lie there gasping, overwhelmed in the best possible way. He strips you methodically, leaving a trail of scorching, openmouthed kisses over every newly exposed inch.

“My sexy little pregnant wife,” he husks, tongue dragging up the slick crease at the apex of your thighs. “Can’t resist this craving can you, liefje?”

His fingers plunge inside you, curling expertly as his mouth closes over your throbbing bud. You throw your head back shamelessly, mindless with pleasure as Max devours you.

So good, so unbearably good …

He ravishes you thoroughly, sending gushing waves of release crashing through your body over and over again until you’re gasping and quivering. Atoms of blissful satisfaction hum in your bloodstream as you float back into sweet oblivion.

An insistent nudge against your belly slowly rouses you. Max looms over you, hair deliciously rumpled and eyes glittering wickedly. “Did I satisfy that craving sufficiently? Or should I keep going?”

Your mouth curves in a greedy smile, hands gliding over his flexing shoulders and chest. “Again, please ...”

It had long since become a running gag around the paddock and team — before you were advised to stop flying. When you couldn’t be located, someone would joke that you must be off ravaging your utterly besotten husband yet again.

Max took the ribbing with surprising grace, grinning unrepentantly whenever his shirt collar revealed another blossom of lovebites discoloring the skin of his throat.

You really didn’t care about the teasing. You’re indulging an entirely healthy and normal craving — just a wife thoroughly appreciating her man.

“Can you believe people used to call this a punishment?” You giggle breathlessly one afternoon.

Max nips a stinging path along the soft skin of your inner thighs, tracing tantalizingly close to your heated center. He laves his tongue soothingly over the reddened marks, leering up at you from between your parted legs.

“Let them call it whatever they want. I’m just taking advantage of your hormones making you insatiable for me.”

“Mmm, well I can’t seem to resist your obscenely perfect body either,” you admit with a lazy stretch. “Maybe we really are being punished.”

One dark brow wings up eloquently as Max drags his eyes over you in a deliberately insolent perusal. Taking your leg in hand, he licks an achingly slow, filthy stripe up the crease where thigh meets hip.

You choke on a whimper, whole body jolting as he sucks a blossom of wet kisses into the satiny expanse of your inner thigh. Those bright grey eyes hold yours in wicked challenge as his clever tongue massages and swirls over your sensitized flesh.

“This certainly doesn’t seem like punishment to me,” he husks darkly. “Does it feel like punishment when I do this ...” His mouth moves higher. “Or this ...”

By the time he finishes torturing you into a quivering, needy wreck, you’re more than ready to beg.

“Please, Max!” You sob, bucking helplessly against the maddening sensations. “I need you, oh god I need you so bad ...”

He settles heavily over you, nuzzling your hair aside to trail searing kisses along your damp throat. “Then you shall have me. My needy wife can have whatever she craves ...”

It’s midway through one such shattering round of lovemaking that Max’s phone begins to ring shrilly. You try to disentangle, burning embarrassment tinting your cheeks, but he simply growls and clutches you tighter.

“Leave it!” He bites out, surging forward to recapture your mouth in a bruising clash of teeth and tongue between thrusts. “I’m busy ... satisfying … my wife ...”

After, as you lie tangled in a sweaty heap of satiation, you can’t resist asking with a wry smile, “Was that another craving I just demanded you satisfy?”

Max props himself up on one elbow, thumb stroking idly along your abdomen as his piercing gaze roams over your flushed, disheveled form.

“Whatever my wife needs,” he responds huskily. Those burning eyes promise infinite carnal delights to come as they caress your body. “I’ll always crave giving her everything she desires.”

He stretches beside you, a blissful smile curving his lips as you snuggle up against his side to exchange lazy kisses.

You’ve got a sneaking suspicion this is one craving that might outlast the pregnancy ...

[springtyme]

𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐥𝐞𝐲'𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐝 𝐇𝐚𝐬 𝐆𝐨𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐁𝐚𝐝 ♡

Spencer being a fish dad is so important and special to me.

Spencer Reid x f!reader|| Masterlist || Spencer playlist

summary: Spencer comes home to find you sleeping on his couch and suddenly he can't help but ask you to take the next step in your relationship.

word count: 2.0k

You contemplate if you should knock again or wait longer for a response, but with the silence that followed your first knock, you feel pretty sure that neither will produce a new result. You had really hoped that Spencer would be home. You could, of course, just have called him and checked, but you had thought that surprising him would be nice.

It’s early Friday evening and you were supposed to spend your night with some of your girlfriends but the plans fell through at the last minute, which you secretly had been quite relieved about. You have been feeling exhausted lately and all you really want is to share a lazy evening with your boyfriend.

As it becomes clear that Spencer isn’t home, you reach into your purse, rummaging around until you get your hands on your keychain, which now includes the spare key that Spencer had given you a few months back. You have not used it yet, and you feel a little nervous about doing so now, not wanting to invade his private space, but he had given you the key and insisted that you use it whenever you needed or wanted to.

Turning the key in the lock, you push the door open and step inside. The familiar scent of Spencer’s apartment surrounds you, making you feel instantly at home. Toeing off your shoes, and dumping your keys back into your purse, you leave them by the door and make your way further into the apartment. Your sock clad feet padding softly across the living room carpet.

You step over to the aquarium, where Spencer’s fish dart around, seemingly happy to see you, or at least you like to imagine so. You smile at them, automatically searching for your favorite, the one guppy with a slightly lighter tail and fins than the others. It’s the only one you can single out from the others, who you have lovingly named Finn, which quickly turned into Finley, and which Spencer had found quite amusing.

“Hey Finley,” you whisper, tapping very, very lightly on the glass. The guppy swims closer, as if in response to your voice, and you can’t help but feel a sense of connection with the little creature. “Where’s your dad at, huh, bud?” you ask, knowing that you won’t get an answer but still wanting to fill out the silence in the room.

You make your way over to the couch, and you can’t help but smile as you take in the sight of the pile of books scattered on the coffee table.

You notice a familiar book lying on the coffee table. It’s one you had been reading together, taking turns reading chapters to each other. You pick it up, running your fingers over the pages and feeling a pang of love and longing in your chest.

You settle onto the couch, tucking your legs underneath you and opening the book to where you last left off. As you begin to read, you can almost hear Spencer’s voice in your mind, soft and soothing, reading the words with a warmth that always makes you feel at peace. The sound of his voice, the way he’ll pause at certain moments to make a point or emphasize a passage, it all comes flooding back to you. You can almost see him sitting beside you, his eyes focused on the pages, a small smile playing on his lips.

Lost in the world of the book, you continue to read, the words transporting you to another place and time. The gentle ticking of the clock on the wall fades into the background as you immerse yourself in the story, feeling a sense of comfort and familiarity wash over you.

But as the minutes pass, you start to feel the heaviness of sleep creeping in. Your eyelids grow heavy, and before you know it, you're drifting off, the book slipping from your grasp as you succumb to the pull of slumber.

You find yourself sinking deeper into the soft cushions of the couch, a sense of contentment washing over you as you let yourself relax completely. The last thing you hear before you drift off completely is the sound of the fish tank bubbling softly in the background, a soothing lullaby that carries you off to sleep.

· · · · ·

As Spencer turns the key in the lock, he feels a sense of relief wash over him. It has been a long day at work, and all he wants is to come home to the comfort of his own space and decompress, ideally with you, but he guess he’ll have to settle for just a few texts, maybe a phone call if he’s lucky.

He knows you have plans and he doesn’t want to disturb you, but he really misses you, despite having seen you only a few days ago. If it was up to Spencer he would see you every day.

As he kicks off his shoes and hangs up his jacket, he notices a pair of familiar shoes by the door that definitely aren’t his and a smile tugs at his lips, feeling a surge of warmth in his chest at the thought of you being here. The hardwood floor creaks softly under his feet as he makes his way further into the apartment, following the gentle scent of your perfume that softly lingers in the air.

As he makes his way into the living room, he can’t help but smile even wider at the sight he’s met with. You, fast asleep on his couch, the book he had been reading with you clutched in your hand. He watches as you breathe softly, the rise and fall of your chest a comforting sight amidst the chaos of his day. His heart swells with affection at the sight of you, so peaceful and serene in your slumber.

He can’t help but admire the way the soft glow of the lamp illuminates your features, casting a warm light over your face.

Quietly setting down his bag, he moves closer. His steps careful as to not wake you as he crosses the room, and sits down beside you. He feels how his heart skips a beat as he marvels at how beautiful and content you look, so utterly at ease in his home.

He leans in close, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, causing you to stir slightly in your sleep and Spencer feels a surge of tenderness wash over him as he sits himself down on the floor next to you. He settles back against the side of the couch, content to just sit and watch you for a while longer. Finding you here was the best surprise ever.

As he gazes at you, he can’t help but think about how lucky he is to have you in his life. You bring him so much joy, so much light, that he can’t imagine his world without you in it. He’s so glad that you felt comfortable enough to come in, even when he’s not home.

He has never felt like this with anyone before, where he feels so at ease with someone else in his space, and who seemingly enjoys being with him despite his quirks and idiosyncrasies. He knows that you understand him in a way that few others do, and he cherishes that connection more than words can express. It’s a feeling so deep that he can’t quite put it into words, despite his proficiency with language.

After a few minutes of simply sitting in the quiet of the moment, with the soft hum of the aquarium pump in the background and the gentle sound of your chest rising and falling as you sleep, as the only sounds in the room, Spencer brings his hand to your cheek, gently stroking the soft skin of your cheekbone, his touch light and tender. He can’t help but smile at the way you unconsciously lean into his touch, even in your sleep.

Spencer watches as you begin to stir, a soft smile gracing your lips as you wake, your eyes starting to softly flutter open. As your gaze meets his, a look of confusion quickly gives way to recognition and a warm smile spreads across your face.

“Hey,” you say softly, your voice slightly hoarse from sleep.

“Hey,” Spencer responds, his own smile widening. “Did you have a good nap?”

“Yeah,” you reply, stretching your arms above your head and letting out a contented sigh. “I hope you don’t mind me letting myself in. My plans got canceled and I missed you, so I thought I would wait for you to get home.”

“I don’t mind at all,” Spencer replies, his heart swelling with affection. “I’m glad you did.” He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, savoring the moment of closeness between you. “I love having you here with me, always.”

You smile at him. “That’s lucky cause I love being here,” you say, leaning in to rest your head on his shoulder.

“You’re always welcome here,” Spencer says, wrapping his arms around you in a warm embrace.

“Careful what you say,” you tease, lifting your head to meet his gaze. “I might just take you up on that offer and never leave.”

Spencer feels a surge of warmth and longing at your words, his heart full with love for you. The question he has wanted to ask you for a while, but never found the right moment to, suddenly feels like it’s pressing against his chest, demanding to be spoken. He takes a deep breath, gathering his courage, and meets your gaze with unwavering determination.

“Well, that wouldn’t really be such a bad thing,” he begins, his voice soft yet resolute. “I know this might be a bit sudden, but...” he trails off, suddenly feeling a wave of nerves wash over him. But he pushes through, taking your hands in his and looking into your eyes with sincerity. “I was wondering if maybe... you would consider moving in with me? I love having you here, and I just can’t imagine my life without you in it. And I want us to create a home together. You obviously don’t have to answer now, and we don’t need to live here if you don’t want to. We could live at your place, or find somewhere new if that is what you want. I just want to be with you, in whatever way makes you happy,” he says, feeling the weight of his words hang in the air between you.

Spencer’s heart pounds in his chest as he awaits your answer, hoping beyond hope that you feel the same way he does, that you want to take the next step in your relationship together.

Your eyes have turned wide as you look at him with surprise and Spencer holds his breath, waiting for your response. But soon your shocked face turns into a bright smile, and tears start to glisten in your beautiful eyes. “I would love that, Spence” you say softly

Spencer’s face breaks into a wide grin, his eyes shining with happiness. “Really?”

“Really,” you confirm, leaning in to kiss him, sealing your promise with a tender touch of your lips. Spencer wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. He feels a surge of joy and relief wash over him at your answer.

You both sit there in a bubble of happiness, basking in the warmth of your love for each other. “I love you,” Spencer whispers, his voice filled with sincerity.

“I love you too,” you reply, pressing your forehead against his. “And I would love to live here with you, Spence.”

He feels like his heart is going to burst with happiness at your words, feeling a profound sense of gratitude and love for you. He can’t believe how lucky he is to have found someone who not only accepts him for who he is but also wants to build a future together with him.

“I can’t wait to have you here with me, every day,” Spencer whispers, his voice filled with love and gratitude.

Spencer pulls you in for another kiss, his heart overflowing with love for you. And as you snuggle closer to him, he couldn’t be happier to have found someone who loves him so deeply and completely.

You both sit there, reveling in the warmth of the moment, knowing that this is just the beginning of a new chapter in your relationship. As the realization sinks in that you will soon be sharing a home together.

[moonstruckme]

Whimsical! reader with remus where they were previously doing long distance but then reader moves in with remus and sees snow for the first time? She's all :O at the snow and he's all :D at her like he's just mesmerized and thinking of how much he loves her and how cute and perfect she looks to him and how much he wants a home with her<3😩

(If you write this, can you add a bit of their ldr! Before moving in And the other boys?)

Ily! You're an actual saint<3

Thanks for requesting sweetheart! I couldn’t quite figure out how to work in the other boys without it feeling forced (at least to me) but I hope the rest is alright <3

Remus Lupin x whimsical!reader ♡ 1.1k words

It had taken a lot of coaxing to get you to go to sleep the night before. You’d been glued to the window, watching with wide, awestruck eyes as little crystals drifted down to the earth, glowing under the streetlights and crisp white against the dark sky. Remus isn’t sure if he’d ever felt so peaceful, watching you watch the snow, your cheek resting on your folded hands as the darkness outside grew deeper and the fire in the grate smoldered down to nothing. You’d spent a few minutes out in it earlier, before Remus convinced you it’d be way more fun in the morning, once the snow had a chance to pile up. Even so, you’d been reluctant to let it out of your sight. 

So he can’t say he’s surprised that he’d woken up this morning to see your side of the bed already empty. 

He finds you in the same place you’d been last night, perched on the edge of the couch, looking out at the pristine layer of snow that glitters in the sunlight. You’re already dressed. 

“I thought you’d be outside,” he admits. 

You turn around, looking even happier than usual to see him. “I wanted to wait for you,” you say. “Are you ready to go out?”

Remus’ heart swells. He presses his lips together, feeling his mouth curve anyway. “Yeah, I can be ready. You should’ve woken me, dove.”

He goes to the coat closet, pulling out his jacket and a spare for you. He grabs some too-small boots, too. Neither of you had thought about the fact that you don’t own any real winter wear until the snow came in last night, so his things will have to do for now. He finds a pair of gloves Lily forgot last spring that should fit you. 

“I didn’t mind waiting,” you tell him, stepping into the boots. “It’s fun just to look at. So pretty.” 

“Mhm.” Remus can think of something else that’s pretty, but it’s too early in the morning for flirting. 

You keep glancing out the window while you tug on gloves, a jacket. He’s never seen you this excited. It’s so adorable Remus isn’t sure his heart can stand it. He plops a hat on your head and spots your hands trembling slightly, just enough to give you trouble with the buttons on your coat. Remus pushes them aside gently, doing the buttons himself. 

When you step out into the crisp air, the first thing you do is put a boot in the snow. It sinks in nearly up to your knee. You look back at Remus, wonderstruck. Then you turn around and tip back, waving your arms this way and that to make an angel in the fresh powder. He has to help you out of it once you’re done. 

He shows you how to pat the snow between your mitts to make a snowball, and you throw one right at the front of his jacket. Your laughter rings out, as crisp and clear as a silver bell. Remus makes a mental note to never let you enter into a snowball fight with James and Sirius; they go right for the face, and you’re too kind to retaliate. 

When you make a snowman, you insist upon going inside to grab some of your rocks and things to make his face. He ends up with dried flowers for a smile and heterochromia. 

It’s only once Remus realizes how much snow has ended up in your boots that he makes you go inside. He makes hot chocolate while you lay your clothes out in front of the fire and barrage him with questions. 

“Do you ever see those little white foxes when it snows like this?” 

“Arctic foxes? No, not really. I think they mostly stay in the arctic.” 

“What about white owls?” 

“I think I’ve seen some lighter ones before, but not completely white. Maybe we’ll get lucky.” 

“Will we have a fire every night that it’s snowy?” 

“If you want.” Remus sets your hot chocolate in front of you, the mug heaping with marshmallows. “Careful, dove, it’s hot.” 

You take it and smile at him. “Thanks.” You look back out the window, blowing on it gently. 

Remus grins as he watches you. Your cheeks are still flushed from the cold and your eyelashes are wet, the flakes that had been caught in them melting. The air between you smells like hot chocolate, woodsmoke, and hominess. He wants to do this with you every day. 

It’s impossible not to think about how much has changed since you moved in. Just a couple of weeks ago, he would’ve woken up thinking about how long it would be until he could call you. He would’ve complained about the cold over the phone and you would’ve hmm-ed sympathetically in that gentle way of yours before admitting that the cold actually sounds pretty nice to you. Remus would have been sitting right where he is now, looking out the window by himself and describing the snow to you, hearing your voice in his ear rather than watching the rise and fall of your shoulders in front of him. 

Today, he got to wake up knowing that if you weren’t next to him, you were nearby. He got to see the delight on your face, button your coat for you, bury your hot chocolate in marshmallows. He gets to watch your damp lashes twitch, pretty eyes moving from the window to his face.

“What’re you thinking of?” you ask, turning in your seat to face him. 

It’s still too early for flirting, but not perhaps for earnestness. “I’m just glad you’re here,” he tells you. 

Your lips curve, and you take your hot chocolate in one hand, using the other to intertwine Remus’ fingers with your own. Your palm is warm from the mug.

“I’m glad, too,” you say, leaning forward to peck him on his chin.

Remus sets his mug aside to chase you down for more, grasping the side of your face as he sets his lips to yours. Fuck, you’re lovely. So lovely his chest is aching with it. Lovely inherently, and also for letting him do this, your cheek dimpling under his touch. Your lips curve against each other, a mirror image. Remus’ heart feels full to bursting. 

“Do you think we can stay here today?” you ask him, index finger rubbing against his and chin bumping into his own. “We could watch a movie, and I’d like to collect some pine cones if I can.” 

Remus presses another gentle kiss to your lips. “That sounds perfect.” His voice is raspy with want and tenderness, and you rub his finger again in understanding. 

You push your nose into his. “I’m glad I’m here, too,” you repeat.

[shanastoryteller]

HAPPY PRIDE!!!

Could you, pretty please, write more of the Draco in the muggle world or Draco and the twins take down Voldemort AU?

Love your writings!

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37

George watches anxiously as Harry closes his eyes and Tori leans over him. He really, really hopes this works. They don't exactly have a backup plan if it doesn't.

Things are uncomfortably silent. He'd imagined this soul sucking business to be a lot more dramatic, but they can't see much under the large hood of Tori's pink robe and neither of them are making a sound.

Then she's drifting back and Harry's blinking rapidly.

"Did it work?" Ron asks anxiously, stepping forward to grab Harry's shoulders and shaking him. "Are you okay? How was it?"

"Wet," Harry says, eyes finally focusing. "I don't feel any different. Wait - my scar doesn't hurt anymore. Does that mean it worked?"

They turn to Tori, who gives a thumbs up. The dull gray of her skin has turned a shimmering silver now that she's consumed each piece of Voldemort's soul. All the dementors that had come to Hogwarts had sickly grey-black skin where it wasn't scabbed over. He wonders if that means they sent starving dementors to a school full of children and what idiot thought that was a good idea.

"Is it over then?" Fred asks uncertainly. "Voldemort's dead? For good?"

They all look towards Voldemort's soulless body that's still passed out on the couch.

Hermione raises her gun. Two shots and a smattering of brain matter later, she says, "Yeah."

"You seriously couldn't have waited to do that?" Draco complains. At least the polyjuice as worn off and he's wearing his own face again. "That settee is from the seventeen hundreds. It's going to take more than scourgify to get that out."

"Um," Harry says. "Okay. Well - should we. Tell someone?"

Draco waves a hand. "Yeah, sure, just leave me out of it."

"Leave you out of it?" Ron repeats incredulously. "You killed Voldemort and you don't even want the credit?"

"Technically, Tori did that - much obliged, Tori," he says, and she gives a bobbing head nod in acknowledgement. "And it was more of a team effort. Besides, no, I have a reputation to maintain if you've forgotten. I wanted Voldemort to stop hitting on my mother, now he won't, so this really doesn't have anything to do with me now." He frowns. "Besides getting the settee cleaned before dad notices. He'll go spare."

George thinks he might be more upset about the dead dark lord, but who knows with the Malfoys. Draco didn't turn out like this out of nowhere.

"You've been working to defeat Voldemort," Hermione says slowly, "because he was flirting with your mother?"

"Like that wouldn't be enough for you," he scoffs.

Ew.

Ron scrunches his face, then says, "Fair enough. But that still doesn't change how we're supposed to, um, handle this."

Draco rolls his eyes. "I'm taking Tori back to the island. You guys figure that out."

"I'll come with you," George says eagerly, dodging Fred's hand when he tries to hold him back. He waits until it's just three of them to ask, "Do you really not have a plan for this part?"

Draco grins at him, wide enough that George can see the dimple on his left cheek. "Let's see what they come up with. I can't be the only one doing the heavy lifting around here."

"Okay," he says, wondering if now that Voldemort's dead, Draco will kiss him.

[georgiapeach30513]

With Your Touch, Part 5

Summary: Some things just weren’t meant to be ignored.

Pairings: Lloyd Hansen X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  Language, voyeurism, masturbation (M&F), pillow grinding, The Verb, non con moment, implied fighting, tension, mentions of childhood trauma, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5.4K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

You were getting to Lloyd. He should have noticed it sooner, but he was too worried about his daughter, and then it was you that was occupying his thoughts. The forbidden fruit. Lloyd loves the succulent taste of something he’s not supposed to have, therefore you became an obsession. An obsession that he began to care about. An obsession he desired more than anything.

You entwined your kind and damaged self into his very being, and he needs to keep you for himself. Protect you from the world that so desperately wants to destroy women like you. Women who have it all, and are still overlooked. You were even going right down the path that they all did. A prick of a boyfriend that you didn’t love, didn’t want, but you just made it work because he ticks off imaginary boxes.

You were too pure for the men in your world. They’d have you beaten into submission, and be their perfect little housewife, while you became a woman like your mother. Did whatever your husband said because he paid the bills. You would make exceptions to your happiness because he gave you a life of luxury. He could go off and spend all his time with whores and secretaries while you sat at home becoming bitter.

He hated The Verb with every part of him, your dad was just barely below The Verb. The only reason he tolerates your father now is because he’s the reason you were searching for the love of a man. And because of your mother you accept subpar men like The Verb, and make excuses of it being love. It wasn’t.

Love is the way you lift Lyla up in the air above your head, while she giggles down at you. Love is pulling her closer to your face so you can kiss all over her cheeks. Love is sitting on a blanket in the park with the stupid expensive pram so Lyla can get outside. Love is enjoying the time that you get to have with her. Love is the confusing feelings you feel for him.

Because no matter what you say, he sees the feelings you have for him. You even got off with his name on your lips, and it was beautiful. He wants to hear it again. Hear it whisper across his skin, while your walls both literally and figuratively crash down. Becoming so soft after you orgasm over his cock that you are pliant, and just need him to hold you. His obsession runs deep, but at least it is pure intentions.

“Was watching her through your phone not enough?” Ari asks, as he sits down on the bench beside his friend. He looks in Lloyd’s direction as you lay Lyla on the ground, praising her when she flips over and gets into a crawling position. “I didn’t take you as a sap.”

“Me neither,” Lloyd barely responds, but smiles right along with you. “Why are you here?”

“Why are you?” Ari looks more at his friend before he looks back at the two of you. “She’s a natural,” every time that he has seen you with Lyla you didn’t look like her au pair at all, you looked like her mother. Even now, she seems like your baby.

“Yeah, she’s raising her daughter the way she wanted to be raised,” Ari opens his mouth, but closes it immediately. His eyes drift around the park, trying to make sense of whatever is going through his partner's head. “I didn’t want this. Either of them. I was supposed to continue to slut around with whoever I wanted, and go to work. That was my life. So you tell me why either of them came into my life, and I’m not supposed to do anything about it?”

“You should know that life gives us curveballs, and we have to figure it out along the way. Like Lyla. You brought Roman’s daughter into your life. And now you’ve got another problem.”

“A fucking hair in my eyeball that is festering and is named after a damn verb. That boy,” Lloyd releases a growl low in the pit of his stomach as he thinks about the vile things that boy said to you. And that is just what he has heard. He’s sure that Chase has said messed up psycho babble to you, that you never asked for. The way he looked down at you, and was already putting you in your place makes him sick. “Fuck.”

“Is that what you’re wanting to do with your sweet little au pair? Fuck her?”

“Yes. Dream about it every night while I fuck my fist,” Ari rolls his eyes, pretending he didn’t hear any of that. Last thing he wanted to think about was Lloyd fucking someone’s daughter. “But it’s more than that.”

“You want her to take care of your daughter.”

“I want to protect them both. And I enjoy the moments that don’t have this intense sexual tension. I enjoy her. And what she wants, and I just get her,” he did. Chase doesn’t know what he has, but Lloyd does. You would see. “I’m tired of this conversation. They’re both mine. And I don’t share.”

“You’re talking about a woman that actually isn’t yours.”

“She will be, Ari. I can promise you that. Let’s go. I’ve gotta get home early,” he gives the two of you a final look. Wishing he could linger, and watch you all day. See how patient you are with Lyla even if she cries. See how you adored her so much you couldn’t stop kissing her, and smiling at her. He is tired of avoiding you. And he isn’t going to avoid you anymore. Sexual tension be damned.

“And you go in your seat,” Lyla pulls her feet up in a silent protest to not sit in her high chair. She’d been doing this all day. “You are so needy for attention today, but you need to sit in your chair,” furrowing her brows, she looks at you with her bottom lip puckered out. “No, don’t give me that face.”

Opening her mouth to babble incoherent words in a sassy tone. “Are you really going to sass me after I made dinner, and made you your special food,” she keeps her legs tightly pulled up, and you look at your plate and her plate both getting cold. Maybe you were giving in to her too much, but she is a baby.

“Okay, okay. You’ll just sit in my lap, and we’ll wait for daddy. Say dada,” she giggles, shaking her head no. Her chubby little fingers reach for something to gnaw on for a moment, and you sneak a bite of your own. “Your daddy is scared of me. Yes, he is.”

Since that night, Lloyd had avoided you. Claiming he was working late, but you knew better. He checked in less, too. Having cameras gave him the ability to not check in, you suppose. Before he didn’t care. He’d call or send a text, now he does nothing. You figured he just didn’t want to see your face. “I think things got too heavy with us. He’s a bit strong, you know. But he’s pretty cute,” you giggle, making sure to kiss her cheek again.

“He’s very cute. And he has these arms, and his legs, and his lips. I think I like his hands the most. They’re so thick — and soft,” you close your eyes a moment, drifting off into a fantasy of being draped over his legs. “But it’s a bit too complicated,” sighing because you know that you’re not going to go that route. It was too complicated already. It was best if the two of you just kept going the pace you were going.

“But you know you’re daddy’s cute.”

“I am?” Your smile fades as the very man you were talking about waltzes into the dining area with a cocky grin. Lyla’s legs kick around, and she makes the sweetest grabby hands towards him. “Can daddy make him a plate? He sure is hungry,” her giggles turn into shrill screams, and her legs and arm flail. “Lyla Bee! You quit that, girlie.”

“I’ll make you a plate, Lloyd. Here, take Lyla biddy boo Bee,” the sound of your silly voice to her as you walk to her daddy who is already sitting at the table makes her squeal laugh. Her eyes closing with how much she’s smiling, and when he pulls her from your arms, she buries into his warmth. “She’s been a bit needy for attention lately, but tell daddy, it’s okay, huh?”

Leaning over, you grin, rubbing your nose on her, but Lloyd is encapsulated by the scent of your hair. Rolling his eyes in the back of his head at how sweet and sinful this moment all is. It’s almost normal. Almost the family that neither of you had. “Now, you behave,” you whisper.

As you stand up straight, you catch Lloyd wafting your scent with his softly closed, and it makes you smile to yourself. “I’ll be back, sweetheart.”

“Okay,” he didn’t even realize what you had said. Him being silly with a crush makes you happy.

“I was talking to the baby,” you remind him. A brief moment flashes between the two of you, and you want to stay. Want to will his hand to reach out and grab your own. You see the flinches of his fingers like he wants to, and then you snap out of it. This shouldn’t happen. He is your employer and things will get difficult, and you didn’t want them to. Lyla needs you.

Going into the kitchen, you plate up his dinner while you think. What the fuck are you doing? This is getting too intense, but the feeling of being so close to both of them made you warm and tingly in a different way than being alone with him. Plus you had to deal with your asshole of a boyfriend.

You knew Chase was no good, but what other choice did you have? Even though you didn’t see him daily, being with him made you stay away from Lloyd, and just fantasize about him. How much damn porn have you watched about the babysitter and the dad. Fuck, how many dreams did you have of Lloyd telling you that you would take his cock.

Why did you have to make this difficult? Why could you just forget about Lloyd and his fucking arms? And the need to see what he looked like with no shirt on. You bet he sleeps in boxers. Maybe completely nude. Shaking your head you back into the dining area and freeze. Why is him being with his little tiny daughter hotter?

Holding up one of her hands he slowly counts each of her fingers, moving onto the next one until getting to ten. Lloyd then reaches for a foot, pulling the socks off and she screams in laughter, “Oh, honey, are your toes ticklish?”

“You should see her when you have to clean in between them.”

“I bet you kick and giggle the whole time, huh? Do you not want to sit in your chair?”

“No, her doesn’t,” picking up her spoon, you give her a little bite of her food. Making sure that you remain close enough for Lloyd to smell you again. You did smell nice today. “Her gets all stressed out when you mess with her toes, huh, sweet girl.”

The touch is so quick, but you feel his hand on your thigh. You don’t even react, but he flinches away the second his finger touches your leg. You wish he’d keep going higher. Higher. Higher. Until he breaches your drenched hole. That’s how he made you. Soaked.

“You didn’t work late today,” you note, walking back to your chair. You take another bite while you smile at him. “How is it going?”

His Adam’s apple bobs, swallowing nothing while he nods his head, “It’s fine. Perfect. You haven’t requested any days off?”

“There’s really nowhere for me to go. I’ll go eat at the bar, and you and Lyla can bond before bedtime,” sitting at dinner with him and Lyla seems a bit too familial, and it suffocates you. You like it too much, and you need to step away.

“No,” Lloyd answers firmly. This time his swallow was of food. “No, I think you need some company. You’re around a baby that can’t talk all day. Unless you’re needing to make a phone call of course,” he had read being a stay at home mom was difficult, and to always engage in conversation when you came home. That way she didn’t get overwhelmed and feel isolated.

“I don’t,” and you didn’t want to leave him anyways. You just felt he wanted you away for whatever reason. The two of you settle in a comforting silence. Like Lloyd needed time to ground himself after whatever he did at work today. That the conversation flowing between the two of you was just as much for him as you. He seems to be seeking something more comfortable and sweet.

Stolen glances happen throughout the meal, but you’ll blame it on wanting to watch him be sweet with his daughter. While that is a bonus, the reality is you just want to look at him. Trying to keep it PG and not envision him hovering over your body with sweat glistening around his hair. Smiling as you go into a beautiful state of euphoria, and he tells you that you have to give him just one more time as tears drift down your face.

Fuck. You’re as big of a mess as your panties, and all you want is to curl into him, and let him take you down from a high of the most beautiful highs. God, you want to feel his arms wrap around you so bad. Looks like another night with your toys.

You aren’t sure why, but there is definitely a shift in the air tonight between you and Lloyd. And you sure are a glutton for punishment as you walk down to his room, but you want to just talk. You and him. There is one hundred percent no ulterior motive as you take each calculated step down the hall in your kinda sexy sleeper set. Maybe your ass is hanging out of the booty shorts, but who cares.

Tiptoeing down to his room, you lift your hand to knock, and then you hear a sound that almost knocks you to your knees. Your name. But not just your name, panting. Deep breaths. He is talking to an imaginary version of yourself. Not just talking, he was fucking the imaginary you, and you are right here!

He’s a vocal lover, and it causes you to drip. Weak from the way he was imagining fucking you. You knew there was a shift, but you couldn’t fathom Lloyd whimpering your name. Not Dolly, but your name. You couldn’t have prepared yourself to hear his grunts, and his coaching you through orgasms. You want to really orgasm. You don’t want that fake you to have all the fun. You’re throbbing all over, and ready to just break down the door, and jump on his cock.

This isn’t fair! It’s cruel torture. You find yourself nearly humping the air, and ready to beg for Lloyd to fuck you like that. Why can’t you have him? Oh, that’s right, a dumbass boyfriend. Breakup. No. Breaking up entails too many temptations now that you have heard — you stop walking, listening so intently as he squeaks out your name.

“Oh fuuuuck,” he sounds delicious as he comes undone. You want him to come in you. No. On you. No. What did you want? Him. His dick. His baby. More of his babies. Fuck. You’re fucked. This was fucked up. You haven’t kissed him and you want his babies? This was only a weird kink because you see how he fathers, and your mind and your desire to have a family is altering your usual steady mind.

Now you need to angrily get off. Fuck him. If he wants to fuck an imaginary you, you’ll fuck an imaginary him. It is only fair. You stomp back to your room. Yanking off your stupid sleep set. You’re quaking. Slamming a pillow down on the bed, you straddle it. It isn’t your finest hour, but you grind over the satin. Tweaking your nipples, and imagine his hands on your hips, guiding you to go faster, and you do. You just need to get off. You don’t want sweet, you want angry.

Fucking the frustration and confusion right onto the pillow so hard you actually feel him. His hands coast down your sides, and tighten on your hips. His mouth caresses the sensitive column of your neck, giving it a tiny little nibble, “I knew you’d be frustrated. Show me how angry you are.”

With your chest heaving as you bare down harder. You want to make Lloyd proud at how good you can ride his dick. “There’s a good girl. Let it all out,” his hands come around you as he fondles your chest. God he feels good.

“Lloyd, I’m coming.”

“Lloyd?” The grip on your tits turn harsh, and you stop moving, looking over your shoulder. Fuck. “You want to tell me why my whore of a girlfriend is fucking the boss? I knew it, you goddamn slut. He’s just using you to fulfill the babysitter fantasy.”

“W-w-why are you in here?” You can’t think properly as Chase’s cold blue eyes stare into you with so much anger. Hatred. You’ve never seen him look at you like this, but you have felt his wrath. You grab onto his hands, trying to pry them off your chest with no luck.

“I was going to make sweet love to my girlfriend, and I saw you naked and fucking a damn pillow, and wanted to have fun. This whole fucking time you were pretending it was Lloyd?” You shake your head aggressively trying to push his hands off you. He is too loud. “You want something to fuck, I’ll give you something.”

“No, Chase, don’t. He’ll hear. Stop, please, don’t,” your voice whispers through your tears as he pushes you forward. All the way down until your face is squished up against the blanket. Running his fingers through your folds. “Chase, don’t he’ll kill you. Please, stop.”

“This is how wet you get? You’re a fucking slut for the boss, huh?” You feel his blunt head at your entrance, and you clench your eyes closed. You could scream, and Lloyd will hear you, but so could Lyla. Chase would surely be killed. Or you can just sit like this, and take it until he is finished.

“Now, be a slut for me. It’s all I ask,” you gulp as he pushes through your walls. Fist clinging to the bed. “There’s a good girl. Since you’re dreaming about him, call me daddy.”

“No,” sick fuck. You didn’t want him on you. You didn’t want him touching you. You didn’t want to give that name to him. You aren’t even sure how you feel about that naturally coming out with Lloyd.

“Go on, you slut, call me your daddy. Tell daddy to fuck you like the bad girl you are. Let me ruin this little cunt.”

“No!” You didn’t care. He just drives harder into you. “No! Get off!” You hate him. It’s over. You didn’t care what Lloyd did to him or his body. He is the asshole. “Stop!” You can’t even pretend that he’s Lloyd. It’s all wrong. So very wrong. Lloyd would be hard, but tender. Demanding, but giving. This is just wrong. Shutting down everything that is happening in the present. Get out of reality, and go into your fake world where everything is perfect. Don’t let Chase have this.

And then he’s all pulled out of you. “She said stop, you fucking piece of shit!” Your mind shifts into an altered state as you try to take yourself out of this situation. Memories of someone else in your house. Your mom, screaming. The sound of fists hitting bone, and the sickening sound of blood. Your dad, screaming to get back in your room.

So many memories of your dad you blacked out, and that’s where you wanted them. Buried deep in the depths of your brain, and to never be seen or thought of again. They are cruel men with a deadly job. They protect their own, but invite evil into their homes. Close your eyes, and pretend that nothing is happening. Because nothing is happening.

Sing so you can ignore whatever is happening behind you. Remember your day with Lyla and how pure it was. How she smiled up at you like you had hung the moon. Lyla couldn’t remember the neglect her mom issued her, and you would make sure she didn’t know what being without a mother’s love was like. Lyla is what keeps you sane while hell is trying to suck you back to reality.

“Hey, sweetheart. Shh,” he covers your back with a blanket, but you keep your eyes closed. “Can I carry you out of here?” You nod your head quickly, and feel his thick arms pick you up bridal style. Keeping your body close to his warmth as he carries you out of your room, and you finally open your eyes.

You see the marred knuckles clinging to your body, and deadpan, “You need to wash your hands.”

“I need to make sure you’re not hurt. Did he hurt you?” Even though he’s trying to be soft, you see the edge of darkness cover his eyes. You don’t know if he killed Chase or he was badly misshapen. You didn’t care. You couldn’t care anymore.

“No, he didn’t.”

“What happened?” There are two options here; lie through your teeth and tell him a bent story or tell him the absolute truth.

“He saw me, and I was…I was — and I said your name, while he was behind me, and I didn’t know. And then…then…th-th-then he wanted me to call him — to call him daddy,” you hiccup as he carries you into the living room, and sits you on the couch softly.

You sniffle, trying to calm your sobs as you look at his hands again. They are hideous. They’ll be badly bruised and swollen come tomorrow, “Your hands. Go wash them.”

“No.”

“I don’t…I don’t like the look of blood,” he gives you a nod, and stands up to wash his hands. He wears boxers in his sleep. You wish you were in a place you could enjoy the sight of him in just boxers, but you’re just numb. So numb that even Lloyd almost naked does nothing for you.

“Ari, I need a clean up, and a new apartment,” what an odd thing to say. “I don’t want it in this building at all. Don’t ask questions. This is immediate,” walking back into the living room, he stares at you. You’re in a state of shock, and your eyes are glassed over into nothing.

“Can I get you some clothes?” What? You look down your body, and pull your blanket tighter around you, then nod your head, and he’s gone again. It all went wrong because you wanted to hear the night life. How could you be so stupid to think you could just live your life carelessly, and Chase wasn’t going to ruin it.

Returning, Lloyd sits on the table in front of you, and starts to dress you. There’s nothing demanding or harsh about his movements. It’s caring. Loving. Nurturing. Instead of trying to black everything out, you watch him. You’re completely nude in front of him but he’s not fucking you with his eyes. He’s making sure you’re alright. Tenderly pulling over your top, and then sliding up some shorts on your legs.

“I’m sorry,” your voice is so meek, and you hate it.

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“This isn’t your job.”

“The hell it isn’t. This isn’t your job. My job is to protect you, and I failed. How long had he been here?” You shrug, because you aren’t sure when the lines of your imagination and reality blurred. Didn’t know when Lloyd’s hands morphed into Chase’s. “I’m going to get us another apartment. You’re also going to have a security detail, and this isn’t for discussion.”

You just nod your head, not in the mood for arguing. You’re just cold. And then a cry. “Lyla,” you jump up without hesitation, practically sprinting to her room, and she sits up in the bed, crying and pouting for you. “Hey, baby. Did you miss me or do you need a diaper change? You’ve been sleeping through the night almost every night. C’mere.”

She isn’t wet, so you just hold her tight to your chest, and her cries start to soften. “You need someone to hold you, too, huh? Shh, I’m right here, baby,” you rock her in your arms, and turn to see Lloyd standing in the doorway.

He’s like a dream, nearly naked and shadowed in her doorway. It hurts to look at him sometimes. Always being something you shouldn’t desire. “She just wanted to be held.”

“You said, too,” he’s being odd this evening. You don’t understand what he means until he walks right up to you, lifting you up again. Carrying you and Lyla over to her rocker, he sits down, wrapping his arms around you tighter. “If you want to be held just ask.”

“Okay,” he holds you like you’ve never been held before. How can something feel so secure and soft at the same time? He is adding just the right amount of pressure on your body, and you start to relax in his arms, and Lyla is right with you. Yawning so big as her eyes get heavier. “Am I stupid?”

“No.”

“Do you know what I was doing when he came into my room?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I was — you know on a pillow, and I said your name, and it pissed him off,” you don’t have to see Lloyd’s face to know he’s smiling. Of course he would smile when it came to you ultimately choosing Lloyd over Chase, “I heard you tonight,” he hums, but still doesn’t say anything. “In your fantasy how was I positioned?”

“On your back. Your legs wrapped tight against me, a pillow under your lower back to get this amazing angle, and you're pulling me so deep into your warmth, and I can’t get enough of watching you come over my cock,” it’s your turn to hum as you look down at the baby. She is so cozy, but asleep, and giving you nothing but her sweet face to distract you. This is far from an appropriate conversation with her present.

“How deep are you?”

Lloyd takes a deep breath. Kissing on top of your head, “Sweetheart, I’m so deep that you can fill me in your throat.”

“How do I know you’re not lying?” Silence falls over the room, and it becomes too apparent what is going on in your room. You heard Lloyd call someone, and they are doing what he asked, cleaning up whatever mess was made. You lift up off his shoulder, and stare at him. “How do I know you’re not lying?”

“I don’t think this is the right time now.”

“Are you scared?”

“I’m terrified,” you gulp, averting your eyes back down to the baby. How could a man like Lloyd be terrified? And why? “And she’s only part of the reason I’m scared.”

“So where do we go from here?”

“I said I didn’t think this is the right time for me to show you I’m not lying, considering the things that have transpired this evening. But whenever you’re ready for me to show you exactly how deep I can go inside your body, but also — inside your heart, I’ll only be a few doors away. But I don’t want to just fuck you like an animal. I want to hold you and…my daughter at night, just like this. You need to be held just as much as she does, so let me. But for tonight, instead of showing you just how right you would fit me inside you, let me tear down the walls you’ve built up, and show you there are good men out there. Men that stand on the things that they say. Let me just hold you, so you can finally relax for the first time in years because you don’t have to worry about that prick ever coming into your life and hurting you ever again.”

Your vision becomes blurry as tears fill your eyes, and you let them fall down your cheeks one by one. It’s freeing to know that Chase can’t ever try and pick apart your brain and memories that you have no desire to explore. Lloyd isn’t just taking your walls down, he’s obliterating them. You didn’t even realize the amount of walls you put up for your own self preservation. “I hate them.”

“Me, too. I hate anyone that has ever hurt you or made you feel you aren’t worth it. Because you are.”

“You don’t know me.”

”I know more about you than you could ever understand,” the cameras. All those times you felt like you were being watched. It all makes sense. “Yes, there’s some in your room. And yes, you knew and pointed yourself right at them.”

“Did not.”

“Want to see the footage?” You snort, shaking your head no. At least you didn’t have to end the night on something as severe as whatever Lloyd did to Chase. “Little minx. I’ve got videos, too. Yeah, I thought maybe it was a coincidence, until you flashed the camera and smiled. You’re smarter than people give you credit for.”

“I was just taking a guess,” Lloyd does not believe a word you say. “I did. It was just a guess. Why did you have cameras in my bedroom? Are they in my bathroom, too?”

“No, I don’t get off on that.”

“You just get off on me in my room?”

Lloyd rolls his eyes with a smile. Is that what you think this is? He’s trying to figure out how to say it without being too forward, and there isn’t another way, “Were you just in your room when you had your legs spread pointing to the camera, shoving your fingers in that tight little cunt, and whimpering my name? Were you just in your room when you’d prance out of the bathroom completely naked, and do a little shimmy right in the camera? Were you just in your room every time that you were fucking that pillow and saying Daddy fuck me harder.”

Oh my god. “Should I go on?”

“No! There is a baby in my arms.”

“Fine, admit you want me to fuck you, and you want to call me daddy,” you didn’t have to admit shit. You do like when his cocky little self comes out though. “Go on, say it.”

He wants you to say it? Then he’s getting the full on works, “I want you to fuck me so deep and hard, daddy. I want you to come in my pretty little pussy, and then I want you to fuck it deeper with your fingers,” Lloyd bites on his lip, and looks up at the ceiling. Good. He wants to try and torture you, he’s getting it right back. “But not tonight.”

“No, not tonight. You’ve been through enough,” you really have. And you just want to feel the warmth coming off his body. “I want you to pick out which room is Lyla’s in the new apartment. She…” it’s too soon. Lloyd can’t ask much more of you. You’re vulnerable at the moment, and he’s taken advantage enough, “She already looks at you like her mom,” fuck fuck fuck.

“Is it weird to say I look at her like mine, too?” He sighs, and shakes his head no. He hopes you really let this conversation sink in before you come crawling into his bed. Because he will fuck you, and he will only hold back if you ask him. If your body shows him, he’ll stop. He wants you more than anything he has ever wanted before and it terrifies him. Because now he has two things he’s willing to kill for, but worse, willing to die for.

Terrifying.

Next

Masterlist

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[kckt88]

Jilted.

Summary:

After Y.N is jilted at the alter she recieves comfort from an unlikely source.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Swearing, Alcohol Consumption, Mention of Infidelity, Smut, Kissing, Fingering, Oral Sex (F Recieving), P in V.

AEMOND x Y.N

Word Count: 8278

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole @toodlesxcuddles @mamawiggers1980 @minttea07 @nommingonfood

Y.N sat on the soft grass, her knees pulled up to her chest as she stared out at the river flowing in front of her, the bottle of champagne gripped tightly in one hand.

It had been meant for a toast on what should have been the happiest day of her life—her wedding day—but now it served a different purpose entirely.

Her mascara ran in dark streaks down her cheeks, mixing with the tears that continued to fall as she wiped them away with an angry swipe.

She raised the bottle to her lips and took a deep swig, the bubbles burning her throat.

She wasn’t sure if the burning was from the alcohol or from the bitterness that welled up inside her. Jacaerys, she thought, her lips curling into a frown as his name echoed through her mind. Her fiancé—no, her ex-fiancé—had come to her before the ceremony and confessed to being in love with another woman.

He had left her here, heartbroken and humiliated, without so much as a second thought.

"Fucking coward," she muttered bitterly under her breath, taking another swig. He hadn’t even had the decency to tell the guests himself that the wedding was off.

No, he’d left that task to her, left her to stand in front of their family and friends and break the news.

The memory of their shocked faces, the murmurs of confusion and pity, was still fresh in her mind. She had never felt more embarrassed.

From the distance, she could hear the faint sounds of music drifting from the estate.

She had insisted everyone still attend, considering everything had already been paid for.

At least someone’s having a good time, she thought bitterly.

The life she had imagined with Jace, the children they had talked about, the future they had planned—it was all shattered now.

She let out a huff of frustration, bringing the bottle back to her lips for another long drink.

“How could he do this to me?” she whispered, her voice trembling. She thought they had been happy.

What had gone wrong?

As she wiped her face with the back of her hand, she heard footsteps approaching from behind. Her shoulders tensed, and she let out an annoyed sigh.

"I thought I said I wanted to be alone," she called out, her voice rough from the crying.

She turned her head, to see Aemond Targaryen, her ex fiancé’s uncle.

He stood there, his long silver hair shimmering in the moonlight as he casually leaned against a tree, lighting a cigarette.

He took a slow drag, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the evening air before meeting her gaze with his cool, ever-watchful eye.

He was dressed impeccably as always, but there was an unreadable expression on his face as he watched her.

“Well,” Y.N said, wiping away another tear and taking another sip from the champagne bottle. “Come to gloat?”

Aemond raised a brow, but said nothing for a moment, simply taking another drag before responding. “Hardly.” His voice was low, calm, as though nothing in the world could ever rattle him. He let the silence stretch out before he added, “Just thought you could use some company.”

Y.N snorted at that, shaking her head. “I’m not exactly great company right now.”

"Neither am I," Aemond replied dryly, his lips curling into the slightest hint of a smirk.

He moved to sit down beside her, still keeping a comfortable distance, the smoke from his cigarette curling up into the air.

She glanced at him, unsure whether to be annoyed by his presence or grateful for the distraction. “You don’t strike me as the comforting type.”

Aemond chuckled softly, the sound almost surprising in its warmth. "I’m not. But for you I shall make an exception” he said, glancing out at the river.

Y.N stared at the cigarette Aemond held loosely between his fingers, the smoke swirling into the air in lazy patterns.

Without a word, she reached over and plucked it from his hand, bringing it to her lips for a long, deliberate drag.

The familiar burn of nicotine filled her lungs, and for a moment, she closed her eyes, savouring the feeling she hadn’t allowed herself in years.

Aemond arched a brow, clearly surprised. "I didn’t know you smoked."

Y.N exhaled the smoke with a scoff, her lips curling bitterly. "I used to. But I gave it up because Jace didn’t like it." She took another drag, the resentment heavy in her voice. "But he’s not here, is he? So, fuck it."

Aemond huffed a low laugh at that, when Y.N offered him the cigarette back he shook his head, before pulling another from his pack and lighting it effortlessly. "Fair enough."

Y.N watched the flame briefly before taking another long drag from her cigarette, letting the smoke slip from her lips in a quiet sigh.

The music from the distant reception still played faintly in the background, a cruel reminder of the day that should have been hers.

“Has Jace’s mother and stepfather left yet?” she asked, the bitterness creeping back into her voice.

Aemond took a drag before answering, his tone as nonchalant as ever. “Yes. They couldn’t get out of there quick enough.”

Y.N scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. “No doubt Rhaenyra’s gone to coddle her darling boy. It’ll all be my fault, of course. I drove him into another woman’s arms, or whatever bullshit excuse she decides to come up with.” Her voice was sharp with resentment. “Seems to be a talent of hers—blaming others for her sons’ actions.”

Aemond’s lips curled slightly as he glanced at her. “I’ve experienced that myself.”

Y.N knew exactly what he was referring to. Her gaze lingered on the scar that marred the left side of his face, the reminder of the day Jace’s younger brother, Lucerys, had slashed out Aemond’s eye when they were children.

Aemond had never received an apology. Lucerys had never been punished. Another one of Rhaenyra’s sons shielded from the consequences of his actions.

She took another drag, feeling the cigarette burn down to its end before stubbing it out in the grass. Her thoughts swirled darkly, anger and confusion twisting together.

She unscrewed the champagne bottle again and took a swig, then wordlessly offered it to Aemond. He accepted without hesitation, taking a drink before handing it back.

“There’s one thing I can’t understand,” Y.N muttered, staring at the bubbles rising inside the bottle.

Aemond flicked ash from his cigarette, giving her a sidelong glance. “What’s that?”

Y.N shook her head, her brow furrowing. “If Jace is in love with someone else, it’s obviously been going on for a while-why not just end things with me? Why ask me to marry him? Why go through all the planning, the ceremony, spending all this money—for it to end up like this?”

Aemond took a slow drag, his expression contemplative. When he spoke, his voice was cold and matter-of-fact. “Because he’s a fucking spineless coward.”

Y.N huffed in agreement, her lips tightening in frustration. "You got that right." In a sudden, angry gesture, she reached up and ripped the veil from her head, throwing it to the ground beside her.

The delicate fabric fluttered briefly before settling in the grass, forgotten.

Aemond stifled his cigarette in the dirt, watching her with a quiet intensity. Then he noticed the way her shoulders had started to shake ever so slightly, her body trembling from the cool breeze now settling in for the evening.

Without a word, he shrugged off his suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

Y.N blinked in surprise, turning her head slightly to look at him. “Thanks,” she murmured, her voice softening.

Aemond nodded, his sharp gaze lingering on her face. He noticed the fresh tears that were sliding down her cheeks, the pain evident despite her attempts to mask it with bitterness and anger.

For a brief moment, he hesitated, unsure if she would accept comfort from him.

He shifted slightly, reaching out but pausing just before his arm could settle around her shoulders. “Is it okay?” he asked quietly, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.

Y.N gave a small nod, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.”

With that, Aemond wrapped his arm around her, pulling her into a warm, firm embrace. Y.N didn’t resist.

She leaned into him, burying her face into his shoulder as the tears came faster now, her body shaking with quiet sobs.

He held her tightly, letting her cry without saying a word, offering her the kind of quiet strength she hadn’t known she needed.

After a few minutes of quiet sobbing in Aemond's embrace, Y.N suddenly pulled away, furiously swiping the tears from her cheeks.

Her jaw tightened as she shook her head, her voice firm with newfound resolve. "I’ve shed too many tears over that man today, and I refuse to cry anymore."

Aemond, watching her closely, reached into his pocket and pulled out a neatly folded handkerchief. "May I?" he asked, his voice as gentle as it had been all evening.

Y.N hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yes.”

Aemond shifted closer, lifting his hand and gently placing it under her chin, tilting her face up toward him.

His touch was unexpectedly soft as he wiped away the stray tears that still clung to her cheeks, dabbing at the streaks of mascara with deliberate care.

His fingers brushed against her skin, and for a moment, their eyes locked, the spark of something unspoken passing between them.

Neither of them moved for a moment, but then their faces inched closer, the tension in the air palpable.

Y.N’s breath caught in her throat, and Aemond’s hand paused under her chin, his gaze flicking briefly to her lips—

Then his phone buzzed, shattering the moment.

Aemond blinked, his expression shifting as he reluctantly pulled his phone from his pocket.

He glanced at the screen, his thumb brushing across it to check the message.

It was a text from Helaena: Heading home with Aegon. You coming?

Aemond’s lips thinned for a moment before he typed back a quick response: No. I’m staying with Y.N.

He waited a moment, then Helaena’s reply came through: Take care of her.

Aemond slipped his phone back into his pocket, turning his attention back to Y.N, whose eyes were still clouded with the remnants of her earlier emotions.

“Is everything alright?” she asked, her voice quiet but steady.

"It was just Helaena," Aemond said with a small shrug. "She’s heading home with Aegon and asked if I was coming."

Y.N gave a half-hearted smile, her tone self-conscious. “You can leave if you want to. You don’t have to stay with me.”

Aemond looked at her, his gaze unwavering. "I’ll stay if you want me to."

Y.N’s eyes softened at his words. “I’d like that”.

Aemond glanced down at the empty champagne bottle between them, an amused smile pulling at the corner of his lips. "We might need more to drink, though," he pointed out, his tone light as he lifted the bottle, giving it a little shake.

Y.N huffed a quiet laugh, the tension in her chest easing ever so slightly. "I’ve got a mini bar in my room," she said, standing up slowly.

She clutched his suit jacket tighter around her shoulders, the warmth of the fabric still clinging to her.

Aemond stood up as well, slipping his hands into his pockets as he gave her a small, knowing smile. "Lead the way."

Y.N met his gaze for a moment before turning toward the estate, her steps steady, the weight of the evening still heavy on her—but somehow, with Aemond beside her, it didn’t feel quite so unbearable.

As Y.N unlocked the door to her room, Aemond’s sharp eye immediately took in the sight before him.

The rose petals on the bed, arranged meticulously in the shape of a heart, a cruel reminder of what this room had been meant for.

The honeymoon suite. He glanced over at Y.N as she kicked off her heels without a second thought, crossing the room and draping his jacket over the back of a chair before heading straight for the mini bar.

"Don’t you have to pay for that?" Aemond asked, raising an amused eyebrow as he watched her pull out a handful of miniature bottles.

Y.N flashed him a mischievous smile. “Yes, but it’s not me paying. It’s Jace-he used his credit card to pay for the room-”

Aemond let out a genuine laugh, the sound rich and deep as he crossed the room. “Well, in that case-” He grabbed a handful of the tiny bottles, particularly all the whiskeys.

He poured them each a drink, watching as Y.N downed the amber liquid in one go, grimacing at the harsh burn it left behind.

Y.N sat down on the bed with a soft thud, laughing as Aemond handed her another drink. He tilted his head, curious. “What’s so funny?”

She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. “When I woke up this morning, I never imagined I’d end up in the honeymoon suite-with Jace’s uncle.”

Aemond smirked as he leaned against the bedpost, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “Could be worse. You could be with Jace.”

Y.N burst out laughing, shaking her head. “Yeah, and none the wiser to his cheating.”

Aemond’s expression darkened for a moment before he gave a slow nod. “Blessing in disguise, then.”

Y.N raised her glass, her eyes locking with his. “Here’s to spending the night in far better company.”

Aemond’s smirk widened. “Here, here.” They both downed their drinks in unison, the liquid burning all the way down, and Aemond poured them each another.

As the silence settled between them, Y.N leaned back slightly, her gaze drifting over him with a curious intensity. “You know,” she said slowly, “I always thought you didn’t like me.”

Aemond looked at her, caught off guard. “No-why would you think that?”

She shrugged, her fingers tracing the edge of her glass. “You never looked at me when I was around. Never spoke to me unless you had to.”

Aemond sighed softly, running a hand through his silver hair. “It’s not that I disliked you,” he said quietly. “I just-find it easier to push people away.”

Y.N tilted her head, her expression softening. “That’s not a healthy way to live.”

Aemond gave her a wry smile, his gaze flickering with something like understanding. “Neither is changing who you are to suit someone else’s idea of you.”

Y.N blinked at that, her brow furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Aemond took another sip of his drink before speaking. “I mean how you changed when you started up with Jace. You stopped being-you.”

Y.N scoffed softly, her eyes narrowing slightly. “What would you know about that?”

Aemond’s voice was steady, unflinching. “Oh, I know plenty. Like how you gave up smoking because he didn’t like it. How you turned down that dream job offer because Jace threw a tantrum about you being away too often. And how you stopped dyeing your hair because he didn’t like the colour.”

Y.N opened her mouth to argue but quickly closed it, swallowing hard as she looked away. “That’s not—”

Aemond cut her off, his voice firm. “What happened? Of course it is. You can lie to yourself, but you can’t lie to me. Any man who treats a woman like that is no man at all.”

Y.N looked down at her glass, biting her lip. “Maybe…”

Aemond scoffed, sitting down on the bed beside her. “There’s no ‘maybe’ about it,” he said, his voice low but insistent. “You don’t need to change yourself for anyone. You are perfect just the way you are.”

Y.N turned to face him, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You think I’m perfect?”

Aemond downed the last of his whiskey, his gaze intense as it locked onto hers. “Yes,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. “I always thought so.”

Y.N’s heart skipped a beat at his words, her pulse quickening as she leaned forward just slightly, her voice barely audible. “So, you wouldn’t change me?”

Aemond shook his head, his expression sincere. “No. I like you just the way you are.”

The air between them shifted, thick with tension as Y.N slowly leaned in closer, her gaze drifting to his lips.

Without thinking, she pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. Aemond froze for a moment, caught off guard, but then responded, the kiss deepening as something ignited between them.

After a breathless second, he pulled back just slightly, his forehead resting against hers. “I don’t want to take advantage of you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with restraint.

Y.N shook her head, her hand cupping his cheek as she looked into his eyes. “You’re not. I want this. I want you.”

Aemond’s resolve crumbled at her words. He leaned in again, and this time, the kiss was urgent, filled with all the emotions neither of them had spoken aloud.

Aemond’s hands began to roam over Y.N’s body, his fingers gripping the fabric of her wedding dress.

In his desperation, he tugged too hard, the sound of ripping fabric breaking the silence. He froze for a moment, pulling back, eyes wide with regret as he muttered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—"

But Y.N shook her head, a wicked smile curling at the corners of her mouth. "It's okay," she whispered, her voice husky with desire. “Rip it some more.”

Aemond’s breath caught, a soft laugh escaping him as he eagerly obeyed. His hands found the delicate silken fabric again, tearing at it with abandon.

The sound of buttons popping off echoed in the room, the gown splitting further under his grasp, until the once-pristine dress hung in tatters from her body.

His eye darkened with lust as he took in the sight of her, and before she could say another word, his mouth was on hers again, kissing her with a fervour that sent heat coursing through her veins.

Y.N moaned against his lips, her arms winding around his neck to pull him closer, pressing his lean body against hers.

As their kiss deepened, her fingers tangled in his long, silvery hair, tugging gently, and Aemond groaned into her mouth, his hips shifting toward her at the sensation.

Her hand trailed up to the leather strap of his eyepatch, her fingers brushing it tentatively. She broke the kiss just enough to whisper, “Can I take this off?”

Aemond stiffened for a moment, hesitation flashing in his eye. "It’s-unsightly," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t want to scare you."

Y.N shook her head softly, her thumb brushing over the strap reassuringly. “It’s okay-you could never scare me”

He closed his eye, giving a small nod of consent, and Y.N carefully removed the patch, letting the worn leather slip from his face.

She gazed upon him, her breath catching as she took in the sight of the jagged scar that bisected his face, the brilliant sapphire gleaming where his left eye once was.

Y.N didn’t flinch or recoil. Instead, she reached up, cupping his face gently in her hands.

She pressed a soft kiss to the scar, her lips brushing over it with reverence, and whispered, “You are so beautiful.”

A single tear slid down Aemond’s cheek, and he pulled her into another kiss, this one tender and full of unspoken emotion.

Y.N responded with equal fervour, her hands running down his chest, fingers slipping beneath his shirt, feeling the hard muscle underneath.

As their bodies pressed even closer together, her hand drifted lower, fingers brushing over the bulge straining against his trousers.

Aemond’s breath hitched, a low groan vibrating in his throat as she cupped him, the pressure sending a rush of heat through him.

“I need you” exclaimed Aemond quietly as he pulled Y.N into his arms and ran his nose up and down her cheek, his hot breath tickling her skin.

“Then take me” whispered Y.N as the rest of her ruined dressed slipped from her body.

“Not wearing a bra, you naughty girl” muttered Aemond as he pressed a firm kiss to Y.N’s shoulder and directed her to sit on the bed.

Aemond’s singular blue eye roved over Y.N’s body, thinking how beautiful she was.

“Open”

Aemond smirked as Y.N obediently opened her mouth; he ran his thumb slowly over her plump lower lip before slipping it inside her mouth.

Without further prompting Y.N closed her mouth and began to suck, her tongue sliding along his thumb, Aemond watched as a small trickle of drool made its way down her chin.

He leaned forward and ran his tongue over her chin as Y.N continued to suck the thumb he had in her mouth.

“Such a good girl”

He removed his thumb and grasped Y.Ns chin, holding her mouth open as he leaned forward and spat in her open mouth.

“Swallow”

Aemond growled as he watched Y.N obey and swallow, her eyes never leaving his.

“Give me your hands” ordered Aemond as he slowly slipped off his tie and his shirt.

Y.N placed her wrists together and held them towards Aemond.

Aemond pressed Y.N backwards, so she was laying on the bed, he loomed over her as he hooked his long fingers on the tie and moved her arms above her head.

“Aemond” gasped Y.N.

“Don’t move your hands” said Aemond sternly.

Aemond pressed a series of delicate kisses to Y.N’s neck before he nipped at her ear lobe.

“Be a good girl for daddy” whispered Aemond as he moved his lips to hers.

Y.N whimpered as Aemond pulled away and began moving down, pressing kisses and running his tongue over her body as he went.

Aemond could still smell vanilla infused lotion that she had no doubt massaged into her skin earlier in the day.

When Y.N began squirming, Aemond knelt down beside the bed, reaching to remove her knickers, he bunched them up his hand before he pressed the white lacy material to his face, inhaling the scent of Y.N’s arousal, his eye rolling into the back of his head.

After stuffing the underwear into his pocket, Aemond slid his hands up Y.N’s smooth legs and held open her thighs as he moved forward and teasingly pressed his nose against her slick folds.

“A-Aemond”

“Hm, so wet for me baby” rasped Aemond.

“P-Please”

“Please-what?” asked Aemond.

“Please daddy. I’ve been so good” moaned Y.N as Aemond’s mouth descending on her cunny.

Ravenously, he pressed into Y.N’s core with his tongue, in and out.

Remembering that Aemond had ordered her not to move, Y.N clutched the bedspread above her head, her fingers digging into the fabric.

Aemond withdrew from her soaking wet core and lashed hard at her clitoris with his tongue, pulling on it with his lips.

He was hard, fast and brutal, alternating between her assaulted bundle of nerves and drinking deep from her cunt.

Y.N ground down on Aemond, hard; his tongue speared deeper inside her, and she felt the warm curl of her peak approach.

“That’s it come for me baby” urged Aemond, his fingers reaching forward to caress her pearl.

“AEMOND” screamed Y.N arching off the bed as she peaked.

“Hm” muttered Aemond as he pressed a series of kisses to Y.N’s inner thighs.

“P-Please A-Aemond. Need you” begged Y.N.

Aemond rose from the floor, his chin shining with her slick, he smirked as he swiped the back of his hand over chin and then ran his tongue over his hand, savouring the delicious taste of Y.N.

Aemond reached forward and manoeuvred Y.N onto all fours, pressing her face into the mattress,  as she braced her weight on her arms.

Y.N was a delectable sight indeed, her arse in the air, her wet cunt on display, gods he needed to be inside her, but first he reached over her body and quickly untied her hands.

Throwing his tie over his shoulder, Aemond squeezed the meat of her arse before he slapped her, delighting in Y.N’s squeal of surprise.

He then bent forward to press a series of kisses to her glorious arse, his large hands kneading the soft pale flesh, before he sunk his teeth into her.

“AEMOND” squealed Y.N.

“Hmmm”

“P-Please Aemond” whispered Y.N, her voice slightly muffled as she pressed her face into the mattress.

Aemond stuck his finger in his mouth before he ran it over her puckered hole.

“Is this alight?” breathed Aemond.

“Y-Yes. Put it inside me. I can take it” whimpered Y.N.

“Tell me-Tell me if it’s too much” replied Aemond as he slowly pressed his finger inside her.

“Ooh Aemond, yes. Please. More” babbled Y.N as he moved his finger in and out before adding a second.

“Your doing so well-my darling” moaned Aemond as he moved his fingers inside Y.N.

“I want you-please Aemond”

“Now baby, I’m going to fuck you until you scream” said Aemond, delighting in the way Y.N began nodding and whimpering.

“Y-Yes” whimpered Y.N

“FUCK” groaned Aemond as he removed his trousers and took his cock in hand and began rubbing it along Y.N’s wet folds.

“Please, daddy. I want it-I want you, please don’t make me wait anymore” begged Y.N.

“Fuck, that’s it” moaned Aemond his hard length filling her cunny in one smooth stroke.

“God. Yes. Aemond” moaned Y.N, his fingers in her arse and his cock deep in her cunt was so good.

Aemond began to thrust in and out of her in deep achingly slow thrusts, his fingers moving in rhythm with his cock.

“Harder-more-please” wailed Y.N

“My dirty girl” growled Aemond, his fingers moving faster.

“Aemond-” whimpered Vaelynn.

“That’s it-take it-take all of me” muttered Aemond as he removed his fingers, and grabbed hold of Y.N’s hips and increased the pace of his thrusts.

Y.N took one of Aemonds hands that was on her hip and brought it to the back of her head.

Knowing what Y.N wanted, Aemond placed his hand on the back of her head and pushed her face into the mattress, her back arching.

His cock reaching deep inside her as he moved with such ferocity it could rival an animal, his long silver hair sticking to his sweaty back.

Aemond then grasped both of Y.N’s arms and held them behind her back as he pounded into her, the sound of his hips slapping against hers echoed around the room.

Y.N’s cries of pleasure were muffled by the mattress, her face buried in the soft fabric.

Her body arched in response to Aemond’s relentless rhythm, each cry escaping her lips in a series of desperate moans that reverberated through the room.

Aemond’s grip on Y.N was fierce, his movements relentless. He drove into her with a force that seemed almost brutal, but Y.N took every thrust with an almost frantic eagerness.

Her body trembled under him, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she surrendered completely to the intensity of their coupling.

“Fuck-that’s it” moaned Aemond.

He released Y.N’s arms and then took hold of her hair, twisting his fingers into her messy tresses before he pulled her backwards, her sweaty back colliding with his chest.

Aemond held Y.N tight too him as he fucked her, his cock reaching deep inside her.

One hand grasped her hip, his blunt fingers digging into her flesh. Whilst his other released her hair and moved to her throat, squeezing gently.

“Give it to me please” pleaded Y.N her head lolling back onto Aemond’s shoulder, her arm reaching behind her to tangle in his hair as their lips connected in a messy, passionate kiss.

Aemond felt his balls draw in; his peak was approaching.

But he didn’t want to finish like this, he wanted to see her face as she came around his cock.

Aemond withdrew, ignoring Y.N whimper of protest as he rolled her onto her back and slipped inside her again.

Y.N wrapped her legs around Aemond’s waist, drawing him closer as he began to thrust inside her, his cock reaching deep inside her.

“A-Aemond, I’m close-please” begged Y.N.

He snaked a hand down Y.N’s body and played with her clitoris, teasing it with his fingers.

“Oh gods” moaned Y.N as her whole-body began to shake.

“Come for me, love” breathed Aemond, his thrusts starting to jerk.

He was close. So close. Just a little more-

Y.N screamed as her desperately needed peak exploded from her body, making every limb tremble as her body bucked around Aemond’s cock.

Aemond’s own peak nearly took him off his feet. The sensation took over his body as he spilled rope after rope of his seed, he had no recollection of what he did or said for the good minute it took for his peak to crest, then subside.

He had never come so hard in his life.

For a moment he held himself over Y.N’s body, as his cock softened inside her.

After a few minutes Aemond gently pulled out and rolled onto the mattress beside Y.N, he reached forward and enveloped her into a tight hug.

“I-I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Not at all” replied Y.N smiling.

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room as Y.N slowly stirred awake.

She felt the warmth of Aemond's body pressed against hers, his arms wrapped securely around her, holding her close. For a moment, she just lay there, taking in the strange turn her life had taken.

Yesterday, she had woken up believing she was about to marry the man she thought she’d spend the rest of her life with. But instead of the dream wedding she had envisioned, Jacaerys had cruelly abandoned her, leaving her humiliated and heartbroken.

And now, here she was, wrapped in the embrace of his uncle, having spent what should have been her wedding night in a completely unexpected way.

Y.N bit her lip as she thought back to the events of the night before. She could still feel the ache of Jace’s betrayal, but perhaps Aemond had been right—it was a blessing in disguise.

Better to have been spared more pain in the long run. As hurtful as Jace’s actions had been, Y.N knew deep down that the relationship had been built on shaky ground.

She had been bending herself to fit into his world, while he had been unfaithful and deceitful.

Her mind drifted to the night she’d spent with Aemond. A smile tugged at her lips as she remembered how incredible it had been.

It had been a long time since she had felt so wanted, so fully satisfied. Shamelessly, she couldn’t help but think that Aemond’s prowess in bed far surpassed Jace’s by miles.

The thought made her giggle softly to herself.

Aemond stirred beside her, pressing a lazy kiss to her shoulder. His voice was still heavy with sleep as he asked, “What’s so funny?”

Y.N turned slightly in his arms, her smile widening as she looked at him. “Just a thought I had.”

Aemond hummed, his interest piqued. “And what would that be?”

Y.N smirked, biting her lip playfully. “How skilled you are in bed,” she teased, watching as a small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, though his cheeks flushed a faint pink.

He chuckled, brushing a strand of her hair away from her face. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice soft yet filled with amusement. “Not too bad yourself,” he added, his tone teasing as he pressed another kiss to her shoulder.

Y.N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help but feel a little flutter of satisfaction at the compliment.

She shifted in his arms, feeling his warmth against her skin. “Do you fancy some breakfast?” she asked, her voice light. “I can order room service.”

Aemond’s lips grazed her shoulder again, and he hummed in consideration. “Sure,” he said, but then he shifted, his hard cock pressing against her body. “But in a little while-there’s something else I’d rather have first.”

Y.N giggled as she felt his hard cock pressed against her, his desire unmistakable. She turned her head to meet his gaze, eyes bright with amusement and anticipation. “Oh?” she teased, her voice playful.

Aemond leaned in, his lips brushing against hers, the heat between them quickly rekindling as his hand slid down her side, pulling her closer.

“Mmm,” he murmured against her lips, “definitely.”

Y.N giggled again, wrapping her arms around his neck as she kissed him deeply, already feeling the sparks of another passionate encounter beginning to ignite.

Perhaps this wasn't the wedding night she had imagined, but in Aemond’s arms, she felt a sense of comfort and desire she hadn’t known she was missing.

And as they lost themselves in each other once more, Y.N realized that maybe, just maybe, the unexpected turns in life could lead to something far better than what she had planned.

Y.N sat across from Aemond at the small table, the remnants of their breakfast spread between them.

The atmosphere was quiet, but not uncomfortable, until her phone buzzed, vibrating against the table. She glanced down, her face stiffening slightly as she saw Jace’s name flashing on the screen.

Without a second thought, she rejected the call and set the phone back down, picking up her fork as if nothing had happened.

Aemond raised an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you answer?”

Y.N shrugged, keeping her gaze on her plate. “I have nothing to say to him. If he’s calling to apologize, he can stick it up his arse.”

Aemond huffed a laugh, his lips twitching in amusement. “Fair enough. But you’ll have to talk to him at some point, won’t you?”

Y.N shook her head, her expression firm. “Not really.”

Aemond frowned slightly, curiosity evident in his face. “Don’t you live together?”

“No,” Y.N said, taking another bite of her food. “We still have our separate apartments. We planned to move in together after we got married.”

Aemond cocked his head to the side, a hint of confusion on his face. “That’s a little odd, isn’t it?”

Y.N let out a small sigh, her fork stilling on her plate. “At the time, I didn’t think it mattered. But looking back-I guess it was just Jace’s way of keeping his affair hidden. Separate lives, separate apartments. Made it easier for him to lie.”

Aemond noticed the sadness in her eyes, the way her posture slumped ever so slightly as she spoke.

Reaching across the table, he gently took her hand in his. His thumb grazed over her knuckles, and his voice softened. “If you wish to forget what happened between us last night and this morning, I’ll understand.”

Y.N looked up at him, shaking her head immediately. “No,” she said firmly. “I don’t want to forget. I just-I’ve realized I’ve been living a lie for so long and I’ve spent years with the wrong man.”

Aemond smiled softly, his grip loosening as he let go of her hand. “The right man is out there somewhere,” he said, his voice low and sure.

She smiled at his words, though there was a flicker of something deeper in her eyes. Checking the time on her phone, Y.N bit her lip in thought.

“What are you doing?” Aemond asked, sensing her change in mood.

Y.N hesitated for a moment before answering, “I, uh-was the one who paid for the two-week honeymoon in Italy. It was supposed to be a surprise for Jace, but obviously, he’s not going anymore.” She gave a soft, bitter laugh. “But I’m not about to waste all that money. I still plan to go. The flight leaves later tonight, so I’ve got time to go home, grab my suitcase, and head to the airport.”

Aemond nodded. “That sounds nice.”

She was quiet for a moment, her mind clearly racing, before she suddenly blurted, “Would you like to come with me?”

Aemond blinked, surprised by her offer. “Me?”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice growing quieter. “I have an extra ticket, after all-”

Aemond hesitated, an apologetic expression crossing his face. “I’m grateful for the invite, truly, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

The embarrassment was immediate, and Y.N could feel her cheeks burning. “-Oh, it’s okay,” she said quickly, forcing a smile as she pushed her plate away. “I-I shouldn’t have asked.”

She began fiddling with her fingers, her appetite suddenly gone. Aemond watched her closely, noticing the way her mood shifted, her body tensing with the sting of rejection.

His gaze followed as her hands moved to her engagement ring. Without a word, Y.N slipped it off her finger and placed it gently on the table, the small band glinting in the morning light.

“Have I upset you?” Aemond asked softly.

Y.N shook her head, though her eyes remained downcast. “No,” she said, her voice wavering slightly. “It was my mistake. Last night was obviously just a one-time thing, and I let my imagination get the better of me.”

Aemond’s heart sank, guilt gnawing at him. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, though he knew his apology would do little to ease her pain.

“There’s no need to say sorry,” Y.N replied, wiping at her eyes discreetly as she gathered her things. “It’s my fault.”

Aemond’s chest tightened as he watched her silently cry, her movements hurried and full of hurt. She stood up and walked over to the corner of the room, grabbing her ruined wedding dress, now nothing more than shredded fabric, and threw it into the bin without hesitation.

Once all her things were packed, she picked up the spare plane ticket—the one meant for Jace—and crumpled it in her hand before tossing it in the bin as well.

The tears were falling freely now, though she tried her best to keep her composure.

Y.N turned to Aemond, her voice barely above a whisper as she said, “Thank you-for everything,” before quickly leaving the room, the door closing softly behind her.

Aemond sat at the table, his fingers toying absentmindedly with the engagement ring Y.N had left behind.

The silence of the room felt suffocating, and the more he thought about what had just happened, the deeper the pit in his stomach grew.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that he had just made the biggest mistake of his life.

His mind drifted back to the first time Jace had introduced him to Y.N. He remembered the surge of jealousy that had ripped through him, a sensation so raw and unexpected.

Jace had Y.N—and he didn’t. She had been more than just beautiful, though her beauty had certainly caught his eye.

It was her intelligence, her wit, and her infectious laugh that had captivated him. He could still hear it in his mind, the way her laughter lit up a room and made anyone within earshot want to join in.

Aemond had tried to bury those feelings. He had told himself over and over that if Y.N was happy with Jace, then so be it. He cared about her enough to wish her well, even if it meant stepping aside.

But the more he tried to forget her, the harder it became. His feelings for her had been relentless, unyielding, and he hated how they refused to fade no matter how many other women he took to bed.

None of them had been her. None of them even came close.

When Jace and Y.N’s wedding had been announced, Aemond had dreaded the thought of attending. The idea of watching her marry his nephew, of seeing her in a dress meant for someone else—it had been too much.

He’d almost convinced himself not to go. But in the end, he had decided it would be the perfect opportunity to say goodbye, to let go of whatever foolish hope he had clung to for so long.

Then the wedding had been called off. The moment he had heard about Jace’s cowardly confession, something inside him had snapped.

He had always disliked Jace, but now, now he hated him.

Jace had cheated on Y.N, broken her heart, and abandoned her on the day they were supposed to be married.

The bastard had left her alone and humiliated in front of everyone. Rhaenyra and Daemon, of course, had rushed to coddle their darling son, leaving Y.N to fend for herself.

It made Aemond sick.

When Y.N had run out of the room, her voice thick with tears as she insisted that everyone should still enjoy the reception, Aemond couldn’t just stand by. He had to find her. He had to know she was alright.

And when he did find her—sitting by the riverbank, her hair a mess, mascara running down her cheeks—she had still been the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

But seeing her there, so broken and alone, had torn at something deep within him. He knew she didn’t have any family left to lean on, her parents long gone, and her grandmother recently passed.

She had no one. So, he had sat beside her, intending to comfort her, to offer whatever solace he could. He never expected how the night would turn out.

It had been one of the best nights of his life.

Taking Y.N to bed hadn’t just been a fleeting moment of lust. It was something Aemond had fantasized about, but actually experiencing her, feeling her trust, her passion—it had been indescribable.

The way she responded to him, the way he could bring her pleasure—it was something he had dreamed of for so long, and the reality of it was far better than he ever imagined. Even that morning, waking up with her in his arms, he had felt something he hadn’t in years.

But then he had ruined it. He had ruined everything.

His words, his hesitation—they had shattered the fragile connection they’d built in the span of one night.

He replayed the scene over and over in his mind, the way Y.N had pulled away from him, the hurt in her eyes when she asked him to come with her to Italy.

He cursed himself for not saying yes. He’d watched as she silently cried, throwing the wedding dress in the bin, discarding the plane ticket, and leaving him behind with nothing but regret.

Aemond stood up suddenly, his chest tight as he walked over to the bin. He reached in and picked up the crumpled plane ticket, smoothing it out in his hands.

As he stared at it, the weight of the decision he knew he must make pressed down on him.

Y.N stood in the queue at the airport, clutching her passport and boarding ticket. Despite the whirlwind of emotions from the last 24 hours, she was determined to make the most of this trip.

It was supposed to be her honeymoon, but now, it was a chance to truly move on from Jace—and perhaps even from Aemond.

The thought of him stung more than she wanted to admit, but she knew she had to clear her head, away from all of it.

The boarding attendants had just opened the doors, and people began filing onto the plane. Y.N took a deep breath, ready to step forward when suddenly, she heard her name being called.

Her heart skipped a beat. She turned, and there he was—Aemond, rushing toward her, his long strides quick and desperate.

Before she could say a word, he was in front of her, wrapping his arms around her. His apologies poured out between kisses—on her forehead, her cheeks, her lips—as he held her tightly. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he kept saying, breathless and frantic.

Y.N blinked in surprise, her brain trying to catch up with what was happening. "Aemond, what—what are you doing here?" she asked as he finally pulled back, his eyes full of urgency.

Aemond took her hand and gently pulled her out of the queue, leading her to the side. "I would've gotten here sooner, but I couldn’t find my damn passport,” he explained, almost laughing at himself, “and then I had to pay to change the name on the ticket.”

Y.N stared at him, still trying to comprehend. "But you said it wasn’t a good idea—coming with me," she reminded him, her voice tinged with confusion. “What changed?”

Aemond let out a breath, shaking his head. "I shouldn’t have said that," he admitted, regret heavy in his voice. "Because I’m a complete idiot."

Y.N crossed her arms, raising a brow. "You can say that again."

He smiled, but it was fleeting, his eye soft as he looked at her. “I’ve spent too many years watching from the sidelines, Y.N. Letting my feelings fester and pushing you away because I thought it was the right thing to do. I thought you were happy with Jace, and that was enough for me. But I was wrong. And I know it’s probably going to take time, but I want to prove to you that I can be the man you deserve.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “Years?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aemond nodded. “Years. But I kept it to myself because-I thought you were happy, and that’s all I ever wanted for you.”

Before Y.N could respond, the flight attendant interrupted. "Ma'am, are you getting on this flight?" she asked, her voice professional but expectant.

Y.N looked back at the attendant, momentarily torn. She handed over her ticket and passport. “Yes,” she said, glancing back at Aemond.

As the attendant checked her details and nodded, Y.N turned back to Aemond, her heart racing. “What about you?” she asked softly, her emotions all over the place.

Aemond’s hesitation lasted only a moment. He met her gaze, and the vulnerability in his eye was unmistakable. “Please,” he said quietly, “give me a chance.”

The attendant turned to Aemond. “Sir, are you getting on this flight as well?”

Y.N smiled at him, her expression softer than it had been earlier. “Yes. He’s coming,” she said confidently.

Aemond's lips lifted in a relieved smile as he handed over his ticket and passport. The attendant checked his documents and smiled back, nodding as she cleared him to board.

As they walked toward the plane together, the reality of it all sank in. Aemond draped his arm over Y.N’s shoulders and pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head.

For the first time in a long time, Y.N felt something close to peace. Maybe this trip wasn’t about running away or moving on anymore.

Maybe it was about finally finding what was meant to be.

Two years later, Aemond stood tall and proud, his eye never leaving Y.N as she walked down the aisle toward him. She looked radiant, her smile glowing under the warm sun, her white dress flowing like waves with each step.

Aegon walked beside her, grinning as he gave his brother a playful wink when they reached the altar.

The sound of the sea crashing gently against the shore created a perfect backdrop for their beachside wedding. The sky was clear, the soft breeze carried the salty air, and everything about the day felt like a dream.

Aemond held out his hand, his heart swelling with love and disbelief that this moment was finally here.

As Y.N took his hand, their eyes locked. He stared at her, his chest tightening with emotion. She was everything he had ever wanted, and now she was about to become his wife. He mouthed softly, "I love you."

Y.N blushed, her smile growing even brighter as she mouthed back, "I love you too."

Their small, intimate ceremony had only his siblings—Helaena, Aegon and Daeron—his mother Alicent, his grandsire Otto, and a few close friends. It was exactly how Aemond had always imagined it. Simple, quiet, perfect.

The priest began to speak, but Y.N’s mind briefly wandered, filled with gratitude for the strange twist of fate that had led her to this very moment. She thought about Jace jilting her two years ago and how, in hindsight, it had been the best thing that could have happened to her.

If not for that heartbreak, she wouldn’t have Aemond. The man who now held every piece of her heart, who made her feel seen, valued, and loved in ways she never thought possible.

As they exchanged vows, hands tightly clasped, Aemond’s thumb brushed gently over her knuckles, a silent reminder of his unwavering devotion.

Even during the ring exchange, they couldn’t stop smiling at each other, their gazes filled with tenderness and joy.

Everything felt so right. Aemond slipped the ring onto her finger, and she did the same, feeling the warmth of his skin as he squeezed her hand in reassurance.

When the priest finally proclaimed them husband and wife, Aemond wasted no time. He cupped her face in his hands, pulling her in for a deep, passionate kiss as everyone cheered softly around them. His lips moved against hers, full of love, full of promise.

When they finally parted, his voice was filled with pride and happiness as he whispered, "Mrs. Targaryen at last."

Y.N laughed, a sound so joyful it made his heart leap. "At last," she echoed, gazing up at him with all the love in the world.

As they stood there, hand in hand, the sun setting behind them over the ocean, they both knew that this was only the beginning of their forever.

TBC

[muntitled]

𝐆𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐡

Oliver Quick x Fem!Reader I Brief!Farleigh Start x Fem!Reader

Summary: you ought to not be surprised by Farleigh's constant cheating. You should, instead, use his greatest adversary to get back at him.

Warnings: Language, Dark fic, Mentions of Violence, Toxic Relationship, Mentions of Drug Use, Smut (+18), Public Sex, Cheating, Dirty Talk, Dub/Con, Choking, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Threats, Rough Sex, Sadism, Masochism, Dry Humping, Orgasm Denial,Cervix fucking, Dom!Oliver, Subspace, Corruption Kink, Humiliation,

This film opened my brain and spilled out everything inside.

𖤓

Because neither you nor Farleigh had ever been modest about your relationship, Oliver was made privy to every single bit of it. You both were so indiscreet and so hellbent on showing everyone else that you were together, it felt as if Oliver lived in your skin.

Whenever you and Farleigh cuddled drunkenly, Oliver was made privy. Whenever you and Farleigh exchanged sexually charged glances across the dinner table, Oliver was made privy. Whenever Farleigh was touch-starved and sank his claws around your throat, Oliver, always skulking in the background, was made privy. Whenever you two fucked. He was there.

Oliver could hear the two of you eating each other alive during a majority of his stay at Saltburn so he should be used to this behavior by now.

“What a slut,” Farleigh's words are wrapped in humid sweat, with his hands locked firmly around your throat, “What a good fucking slut.”

Oliver, having just decided to take a midnight stroll, watches from the shadows as Farleigh takes you right there in the courtyard. He may not particulary fond of Farleigh, still Oliver had to applaud that he at least had the decency to ravage you in secret. Oliver remains watching, not because it gives him any sexual gratification, but only because he did not imagine your sex lives to be this visceral… certainly not this animalistic.

“You are fucking filth, you know that?” Farleigh asks, rutting into you with your back pressed against a stone surface. Instead of your eyes fluttering shut, you were gazing over Farleigh's shoulder, staring straight ahead at the shadow skulking in the darkness.

Oliver held a finger up to his lips, prompting you to keep your mouth shut.

You watch each other as Farleigh fucks into you, continuing his words of mindless praise. “Gorgeous fucking filth-” and you both cum at that. Farleigh with his eyes shut, and you, with your mouth hanging open and your gaze stationed on Oliver.

Before this exact moment, Felix was the only thing that existed in Oliver's whole wide world. He did not notice you, but never ever think that he was not aware of you. In fact, as far as Oliver knew, you held no standing of any official significance in Saltburn.

Beyond, of course, being Farleigh's overcompensated whore.

You were almost as inescapable as Farleigh, but not nearly as annoying and for the most part, you played the role of a good little girl, forever glued to her unfaithful boyfriend’s side.

These are the thoughts that pollute Oliver’s mind as he drifts through the vibrancy of his own party, having left the maze and Felix's limp body in it.

Oliver's feet, clad in all-too-expensive Italian leather only seem to weigh him down as he drifts aimlessly through the egregious castle. Neon lights spill over a carpet stitched with cocaine and he has to fight the urge not to shove past the drunken bodies congesting his pathway.

For the longest time, Oliver was convinced that you were one of them: These people disguised as parasitic waste dancing underneath the moonlight, celebrating his supposed birthday. Instead, Oliver finds you here, taking up space in the Blue Room with your figure helplessly draped over the bed.

Your form is reminiscent of The Nightmare. One of Oliver’s most beloved paintings, reason being, because it was so unequivocally dreadful. He watches you as he would The Nightmare.

Your eyes are wet and your body is wracking with pitiful sobs into your forearm. Ollie may not be good at emotions but he can tell you're distraught- like one of Fuseli's girls.

Soon, the whole thing becomes too uncomfortable to watch and he clears his throat as he says,

“Shit, I'm so sorry, I didn't think anyone was in here.”

“Oh-Ollie!”

Your shoulders shoot up, and you nearly jump off the bed in apparent fright. Your eyes are wide saucers and your skin is dark in the moonlight. Ollie has to resist the urge to lick his lips.

He wanted to fucking eat you alive.

“Fuck, did I scare you?” He hunches his shoulders, making himself smaller than he usually was. “My apologies.” He had to appease you somehow in your startled state and you You quick to press a shaky palm to your cheeks, utterly devestated to find the surface of your skin wet and salty.

Out of all the parasites in this nest, you were the least bloodthirsty.

“How utterly embarrassing,” you coo, before wiping furiously away at your cheeks.

Sensing the perfect opening, Oliver steps over the threshold, polluting the space, as he did the rest of Saltburn, with his presence alone.

“Where'd you come from?” You ask before sitting up at the edge of the bed.

“Murdering my best friend.” Oliver answers cooly, with his wooden horns silhouetted by the moonlight.

As he creeps closer the moonlight highlights the crevices of your face and Ollie is able to capture the smile that cracks across your visage. He loves that.

You are so deliciously routine.

“Understandable,” you calmly shoot back, “Sometimes I could just fucking kill Farleigh myself.”

How curious. You thought he was joking.

“That's why you were crying, then?” Ollie asks, as he skulks about the Blue Room. He glides his finger across the dusty mantle before turning his eyes back to you, “You were crying because of Farleigh?”

He already knew the answer but he wanted to hear you say it.

Your glittery brows curve again above your puffy eyes, just as your lips protrude into a shaky pout. Fuck he was so painfully hard.

“You'd rather eat glass than hear about my common relationship problems,” you chuckle, fighting back a sob.

“I'd rather eat glass than get back to that stupid party.” And his eyes are so genuine, you immediately believe him. “You'd be saving me, he says, before finally planting himself down on the bed beside you. “Promise.”

“Not much to tell honestly,” You shrug, causing the left string of your cocktail dress to fall off your shoulder. You leave it there. “ You know how Farleigh can be... He has somewhat of a-”

“-Communal penis?” Ollie interjects, “Fucking anything and everything that even vaguely gives him the time of day?”

“Exactly!” and before you know it, you're giggling in the dark with a stranger. “I get tested for STD's like I'm a fucking invalid-”

“The sexiest fucking invalid I've ever come across.” He's closer now. Close enough to tell you've been drinking.

With your eyes trained on his full lips, a thought strikes you suddenly. "Happy birthday, Ollie.” That is enough to snap his gaze up from your exposed collarbone, and up to your big, round eyes. He does not respond for several seconds, promtpting you with the devestaing thought that you might have struck some unforseen nerve.

“H-ave I upset you?” You ask in such genuine concern and naivete, it nearly causes Oliver to cum in his fucking pants. He needed to defile you so badly. He needed you to cry around his cock. He just needed you-

“'Course not," Oliver clears his throat before unclenching and clenching his wired fist, "It's just-you're the first person that's said that to me all night.” Your eyes are hazy now, with your brain having caught on to the very daunting fact that you're in a room with someone who perhaps has other intentions. He is leaning in before slithering his calloused hand on your thigh. Never ever do you move away. Never ever do you tell him off.

“I find that hard to believe-” your bones are rattling as the warmth of his palm spreads to the inside of your steadily opening thighs. “Surely Felix must've said-”

“Fuck fucking Felix- the world doesn't revolve around him!” You're corralled into silence, with this man steadily pushing you back against the bed. “We don't need to talk about Felix,” he looks absolutely ravenous as the tips of his fingers finally make contact with your clothed cunt. “Do you want me to make you cum?”

It's so blatantly filthy, you cannot help but arch your back off the bed and press yourself further against his fingers. “F-Fuck… Ollie-” your breathing is laboured and Ollie watches utterly mesmerised by the way your hips move against his hand.

“I h-heard something about you-”

“What did you hear?” asks Oliver before pulling down your soaked underwear.

“That you don't care about fucking on menses.” You say, awaiting a response but getting none because Oliver stuffs his face between your legs. He's eating you out with absolute fervour, with his nose bumping periodically against your clit.

“Where'd you hear that?” He mumbles against your cunt.

He did not expect to be so utterly taken by you. This is wholly unexpected.

“A certain bottled blonde- FUCK- J-Just like that- please, God, please-”

He only pulls away, only to shrug off his blazer. With his horns and his cock indenting against his pants, he looks absolutely terrifying, that only has you rutting in the air helplessly.

“You mean Venetia is not a real blonde?” He asks before shoving his face in between your legs once more, “I feel betrayed.” The sarcasm drips from his tongue. The same tongue that slithers out his mouth to lick hurriedly against your cunt. He suctions his lips against your hole, as if he wanted to taste inside you.

“I didn't fuck her-” He pants, before pushing his nose against your cunt, “I didn't fuck her all the way- FUCKING BITCH-” Sharp pain bleeds from his scalp because your fingers and its acrylics are buried in his hair now.

“G-God, yes, Ollie-” you're actively rubbing your cunt against his face, absolutely using him to get off. Almost immediately, Oliver immediately decides that won't do.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He asks, before pinching your clit causing you to still your movements completely. Your torso is wracking with sweat and your nipples pierce through the softness of your dress.

“O-Ollie P-please-”

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He asks before removing his face from your cunt all together. You try desperately, to hold your moan, but the sight of him crawling up your torso seems enough to almost have you cumming untouched.

You fight against it. You fight against the warmth in the pits of your stomach, you fight against the urge to hump mindlessly into the air until your cunt creates friction with… something. You fight hard.

His breath is warm against your face, but never once do you look away.

“I use you,” he whispers before slithering a hand around your throat.

He squeezes.

“And I'd fucking die before I ever let it be the other way around.” He squeezes and squeezes until you're tapping furiously against his palm.

“Look at how gorgeous you look when you're not being a filthy fucking whore.” You can't help it. Your hips immediately buck up into nothing despite your shortness of breath. You're clawing at his wrists, hoping he'd ease his grip but Oliver does nothing of the sort. In fact, he only moans at the sight of your eyes sinking to the back of your head-

“Fucking, fuck-” He curses, before quickly undoing the vexing buttons of his pants. “Bloody disgusting,” he says, watching the drool ease out your mouth, “You are bloody disgusting-” he sinks into you the very moment he eases his hand away from your throat. You're gulping generously at the air as Oliver slaps against your cheeks, bringing you back to the land of the living.

“There she is,” he punctuates his sentence with a violent thrust, “There she fucking is-”

Pleasure and pain shoot through every channel of your body until you can't even decipher the two. “OH MY FUCKING GOD-”

“I love when you call me that, baby,” He mumers with his eyelids heavy, “I fucking love when you call me that, with your pretty fucking voice, you USELESS fucking bitch-”

It is absolutely sick and absolutely deranged. Every other word that skates out of his mouth is a contradiction of the last and you're utterly frightened of the beast taking you so roughly.

“You're taking it so well-” he whispers, before letting his hand squeeze your nipples through your dress, “Your cunt is taking my cock so fucking well, baby- Fuck-” when the head of his cock presses to that sensitive pillowy plushness, you're wailing in the dark like a banshee. Wanting to push him off of you, but not wanting the pleasure to end. Your struggle only brings him closer and closer to edge.

“I-Is that your fucking cervix, baby- Fuck-”

“Oh God- Ollie.”

He nods, “Now you're gonna cum for me, yeah? You're gonna cum for me and you're gonna think about your stupid cunt of a boyfriend. How he doesn't fuck you like I do-” your orgasm has already started to trickle in and your hips lift up to collide with his, “Tell me- Tell me you can't fucking live without me-” He says, “I need it to cum, tell me, tell me-”

“I need you, Ollie.” His lips stutter open, just as his thrusts become shallower and shallower “I need you to fucking live, Ollie-”

“FUCK- oh fucking fuck-” his spunk fills your insides, just as the entirety of your orgasm washes over you and you immediately realize that you're crying. You're crying because everything feels so good. Oliver has completely strummed you to orgasm. He has moulded your body into everything he needs it to be.

“I fucking use you.” He says, “Not the other way around.”

[cherriesncinnamon]

stress reliever / spencer reid x fem!reader

synopsis: your fellow profiler at the bau is stressed over a case. shoulders tight and room empty, you decide to relieve some of his tension.

warnings/tags: stressed spencer, grinding, blowjob, fem!reader.

word count: 1.1k.

a/n: tell me why this is literally the first thing i've written in a nearly year?! i've been so busy but i've missed this. rewatching criminal minds for the third time so thought i should treat myself to a lil spence smut.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"I just don't understand what I'm missing." Spencer announces, clutching his hair in his fists as he slumps down on a chair.

"Neither do any of us. This UnSub loves puzzles, clearly he's really good at them, too." I reassure. SSA Spencer Reid hates when he cannot figure something out. Not because he has a weak ego, but because he really should know.

"God, my head is killing me." He says, rubbing his temples gently with his thumb and forefinger.

"Probably because we've been up for over 24 hours. Hotch and the rest won't be back for at least another hour, a nap couldn't hurt." I suggest, tucking my knees up to my chest in my chair, preparing to drift off in under a minute.

"No. No, I have to figure out some of this, even just a little bit. We can't let this son-of-a-bitch roam free for another second." He picks himself up and looks at the board again, eyes squinting at the words until they're unintelligible.

I show up behind him, taking a look at the board for the fiftieth time that day to see if a few minutes away from it had altered my ability to solve the puzzles. It hadn't. I rest my hands on Spencer's shoulders, and he jolts at my touch. His muscles are tensed and knotted.

"Jesus, Spence. You need to lie down. We know better than anyone that stress does not make our jobs any easier." I urge, slowly massaging his shoulders in an empathetic way. Spencer shakes his head, turning to face me.

"Sleep will not relieve this stress." He replies, gaze fixed. He sighs deeply, looking down at me as if he's waiting for me to provide a solution I definitely don't have. If anyone has the mental equipment to solve this case, it's Spencer Reid.

I guide him over to a chair, sitting beside him. I take a swig of my cold tea and rest my head on my knees. He stares at me with those big brown eyes that are usually full of life - well, in Spencer's kind of way - that are now deadened and hollow. I rest my hand on his and he squeezes mine back with a smile.

This is the first time I'm seeing him smile in days. I look eagerly at his lips, not hesitating to reach out and kiss him. He, of course, kisses back, gripping the side of my face tightly.

There's always been a mutual attraction between the two of us, but neither have ever even thought of acting on it. Derek loves to call us Romeo and Juliet. I laugh; Spencer doesn't get the joke.

I pull his hair through my hands, tugging gently at his roots as our kiss intensifies. I'm so glad he cut that mane, swapping it out for something much better.

I feel myself drifting off to a blissful state when Spencer pulls away abruptly, leaving my lips alone. He grimaces at me, clearly fighting some internal demons I can't see. I know he's not the romantic type, so I'm not sure why I thought it would be a good idea. We don't exchange any words for a few seconds until he gives in and reaches into me. I refuse his kiss.

"Do you really want this, Spence?" I ask, to his contemplation. He thinks for a minute, breath heavily paced. I look down at the bulge in his pants, pulsating through the fabric.

"Well, it sure looks like it." I joke with a harmless laugh. Spencer sighs at me, covering himself with both of his hands. I take his wrist and remove it, lightly stroking him with my palm, much to his pleasure. He tips his head back in the chair from my slight touch, grinding his hips into my hand, eager for more.

Feeling brave, I push Spencer's chair out from under the table, making enough room for me to straddle his lap, placing myself on top of his clothed bulge. Spencer doesn't know where to look, his eyes pacing from my eyes, to my lips, to my breasts, and to my waist. I take his hands and place them on my hips for support.

He's hard against my crotch, so hard that I can tell he won't be able to hold on for long. I play on this, beginning to grind myself against him at a painfully slow pace. He moans out, licking his lips that are dry from his breathlessness. I run my fingers through the front of his hair, pushing the strands out of his face while starting to move faster.

Spencer's hands squeeze my hips, pushing me down further onto his length that is desperate for a release. His eyes alternate between open and closed, unsure whether to admire me or savour the sensation.

"Does that feel good?" I pry, peppering kisses on his supple neck. Spencer can barely mumble a mhm as he groans out more and more. I sense his closeness and remove myself, sliding down to under the table.

"What are you doing? Why'd you stop?" Spencer begs, sitting up in his chair. Looking up, I smile at him, making my way towards his zipper.

I unzip his pants and break the waistband of his black boxers, watching in arousal at his cock spring free. His tip is glazed in pre-cum, veins spiralled around his length, begging to be relieved. I'm shocked at his size, to be honest. I had always thought he would fit the stereotypes of geniuses, assumed that he was compensating for something with his intelligent. But clearly, he just hasn't had the opportunity to show anyone what he can do.

Without waiting a second longer, I lick his sensitive tip then take him into my slick mouth, observing his chest heave inhumanly fast as I move up and down his member, making sure to cover every single inch. Spencer rests his hand on the top of head, stroking my hair softly.

"God." He whispers, squeezing his eyes tightly shut and gripping the armrest of his chair. I use my free hand to stroke the delicate skin of his abdomen, sending goosebumps across his entire body. I can feel him pulsating in my mouth, so close to climax that it has to be uncomfortable.

I remove my mouth, now using both hands to jerk him. The wetness makes my hands glide on his cock, welcoming his finish.

Finishing on my blouse, Spencer takes a minute to catch his breath. He swiftly wipes himself with a tissue from the table, tucking his still half-hard length away.

"Feel better?" I ask, walking towards the door to wander to my office change my blouse before the team arrives.

"Much better."

[her-devils-advocate]

Year 850, then; Year 854, now

pairings: Levi Ackerman x (GN!) reader

genre: Hurt/comfort, fluff, fluff and comfort, angst, angst and fluff

summary: Two tender moments between you and Levi after being injured in battle, leaving him to worry and look after you in his own ways.

Warning for the ending of aot spoilers

word count: 3,765

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54818275

Year 850, then:

It had been a gruelling expedition, one that had resulted in a multitude of casualties, including your own. It was a routine mission, you and your squad had been tasked with surveying the land, finding the safest route to one of the scout bases and supplying it ahead of time. You only needed to bring simple necessities like spare food and medical equipment that the upcoming squad would require during their stay there, as well as clearing out any titans that had happened to be found along the way. A small risk, all things considered.

On paper, it was one of the safest missions that the scouts had taken in a while. After the previous expedition had resulted in many deaths, the scouts had put a small pause on activity outside the walls while everyone recovered and re-evaluated future missions.

Levi had scoffed at the mention of Erwin sending you as the squad leader, mumbling under his breath that such a mission was beneath you and your team. You had reassured him that you were the best choice; that it would be a simple in-and-out mission. You and your team would be back before he knew it.

“I still don’t see why we are bothering to send you of all people on a supply run to that dusty old base. What a waste of time and resources when you should be focusing on training your team. How are you supposed to prepare your team for the upcoming missions while wasting energy supplying another?”

“Levi, it’s alright.” You remember the smile that lights up your face when you see him roll his eyes, his lips pursed in what was definitely not a pout. The captain would never do such a thing, of course. That's what he told you when you gleefully pointed it out, at least.

“Having me lead the squad is probably just a precaution, in case anything happens. I highly doubt that we will encounter many titans, if any. You know the route is usually empty each time we send out supplies. I’ll be back before you even have a chance to miss me.”

“Tch, sure. If anything, it will give me the peace I need to finish that paperwork.”

You mentally cursed yourself for tempting the universe to put you in your place, forcing you to eat your words.

On paper, it was a simple task. 

In actuality, the pouring rain obscured your vision, making it almost impossible to see more than a few feet in front of you as the dark clouds dimmed the world around you. The heavy rain mixed with the steady march of the horses along the ground. Their hooves drummed against the wet earth, vibrating through your cold and tense body, splashing through the slowly growing puddles. The howling wind echoed in your ears, taking the words of your squad and drifting them up to the dark clouds above. 

It was a perfect recipe for disaster, especially when neither you nor your team could spot the two abnormal titans rapidly approaching your position. 

The last thing you remember is the shooting pain as one of the titans reached its elongated limb to swipe at your horse, sending you flying through the air and crashing into the ground.

That's how you find yourself lying in a lumpy bed, the scratchy material rubbing against the sections of tender skin not currently covered in bandages. You sit up with a small wince, pain rolling over you in long waves at the motion. You carefully wiggle your arms and legs, happy to feel them move at your command despite the hot flush of pain. 

Hange and Commander Erwin arrive shortly after you wake, sitting beside you and keeping you company as you give your report of the mission. They don't miss the way your eyes flicker with shame, guilt reflecting in your eyes for not noticing the danger until it was too late, despite battling the elements. 

You are usually careful once you and your squad are in Titan territory, always on high alert and on the watch for the slightest hint of danger. While it’s not the first time you’ve found yourself on the bad side of luck, the guilt and feelings of failure never seem to lessen. 

“You will be happy to know that everyone survived. They are a bit battered here and there, but your squad will be alright in time. You are the most injured out of everyone, in fact, congrats!” Hange says, amusement and relief shining in their eyes as they watch you sigh, sinking deeper into the frustratingly stiff pillows.

“That is good news, thank you Hange. Not that I don't appreciate you both visiting me, seeing both of your faces certainly helps to brighten my day, when I’m not in trouble or receiving bad news, that is.” 

You hear the two chuckle, despite being friends with Erwin, you have forced his hand enough to be given a few small slaps on the wrist in the past. 

“But where's Levi? I figured he would be here to lecture me on getting injured at the very least.”

Erwin gives you a knowing smile, sitting up in his chair a little straighter, “Don't worry, I’m positive that you won't get away from that lecture. I've already gotten my version from him at least twice now.”

You raise your eyebrow quizzically, you knew of Levi’s frustrations with the mission yet you never figured he would chew Erwin out over it.

Before he has a chance to continue, Hange lets out a loud laugh, desperate to share a fact they know Levi would happily keep to himself.

“Shorty refused to leave your side when you were brought in, even with the medics stating that he was getting in their way. He only left just before you woke up to fetch you some food, claiming you're ‘a damn brat when hungry’.” 

They lower their voice to mimic him while crossing their arms and glaring as they speak. You let out a small, surprised giggle, the action causing you to wince as your ribs protest.

“You know, if anything, he’s probably going to be even more pissed that you decided to wake up after he left,” Hange says with a small wink.

As if on cue, Levi opens the door with one hand, carefully balancing a plate of unusual food on the other.

“I got held up by the damn brats. Braus and Springer found me in the kitchen and decided to take over, wanting to show me a secret they had when it came to making the most out of our shitty reserves or something. I figured there was no harm, those kiddos have been vibrating with nerves ever since they got the news.”

He pauses once he takes in the sight before him, his eyes widen when he finally spots you awake. You give him a warm smile as you see the relief that washes over him. His eyes linger on you briefly before he clears his throat, trying to push down the visible urge to rush over to you despite the small audience. 

“Apparently they have found a way to make eating potatoes for the hundredth time in a row more exciting for them. Didn't bother to share that with the rest of us. They also told me not to share this information with Erwin since they don't want to be lectured on using our reserves for their little experiment.” 

Levi turns to the man in question, ignoring the amusement glinting in Erwin's eyes as Levi’s glare hardens. “I told the kids that the day they get to tell me what to do will be the day all the titans are finally killed, once and for all.”

You can’t help the giggles that erupt from you despite trying to hold back, rapidly dissolving into loud laughter that only grows even more frantic when Hange joins in. Their laughter is even louder as they grasp at their sides, rapidly running out of breath themselves. Tears roll down your cheeks as you try to catch your own breath, bringing a hand to clutch at your tender ribs as each gasp causes the pain to flare angrily. 

“Oi, what’s so funny, you two?” Levi’s displeased voice cuts through the growing chaos, only betrayed by the subtle redness of his ears and the softness of his eyes as he watches you struggle to compose yourself. Hange waves their hand in his direction, yet each time they try to speak, more giggles slip from their lips. 

He scoffs before shoving the plate onto your lap, mindful to avoid your injuries before pulling Hange out of the chair beside your bed and settling down into it, ignoring their cries of protest.

“Hey! I was sat there first, shorty. Erwin!” “Yeah, well I’m sat here now, four-eyes. Don’t you have a titan to go poke? And you,” Levi turns to glare at Erwin, who was simply content to watch his soldiers bicker despite their positions, “don’t you have some paperwork to fill out or something?”

The tall blonde slowly stands from his chair, ushering Hange out of the room alongside him before turning towards you with a kind expression.

“We know when we have overstayed our welcome, we wish you a speedy recovery.”

You give Erwin a small nod before looking down at the food placed on your lap. You notice the thin slices of potato that had been cooked until they were crisped. You glance up at Levi, raising a single eyebrow.

“Don’t ask me, the cadets wanted to make something nice for you. They were worried.”

Once Erwin and Hange can be heard moving further down the medical wing while Hange happily chats the other’s ear off, Levi moves from the chair he had rudely claimed. He nudges you, silently requesting you to shuffle over to give him room on the uncomfortable bed. Once he is settled, you rest your head on his shoulder as he carefully brings his arm around you, protectively pulling you close to his side.

“Just them?”

“Tch, shut up and eat your meal.”

Year 854, now:

Thick clouds of dust begin to settle over the ruined ground, it sticks to your hot skin as you breathe heavily. Silence uncomfortably blankets everyone as they let the moment sink in. You had done it, you had all succeeded. Not that it feels like a success.

Your whole body screams out with each movement you make, you had stopped keeping up with your injuries hours ago, simply having more important things to focus on. The stakes were too high to risk caring for every injury. The adrenalin and fear had kept the pain manageable as you pushed your body to its limits, but now, nothing can help as you try to stifle your whimpers.

You don’t know how to feel, already emotionally and physically past your breaking point. You can hear Armin wail somewhere behind you, the sound is haunting as each scream stabs deep into your heart. You don’t want to turn around; you can’t will yourself to do so. You know you should be there to help comfort everyone, but your body is frozen. You’ve always been good at lending a comforting shoulder to the 104th cadets in the past, but now you doubt that anything you do could bring any peace to them.

With Armin's sobs breaking the tense silence, sound reluctantly returns to the world. The bitter victory has no celebration, only relieved sighs and mourning.

You spot Levi from a distance, perched against a fallen rock. Dark blood slowly oozes out from his extended leg, having been broken multiple times and further injured during the final battle. 

You allow yourself to feel happy, knowing that he will be alright and that you are both alive. 

Your stubborn body unfreezes, despite the pain and exhaustion, allowing you to slowly stumble your way towards him. Your eyes are glued to the destroyed ground as you approach your captain. You take the time to rack your brain of things to say, what can you even say after everything you have both been through? Everything feels too casual, too insignificant compared to the lifelong trauma, both the physical and mental kind, that has been thrust upon you both in the past couple of weeks. You feel selfish for your happiness at his survival, having said too many goodbyes in such a short period. Too many good people have been lost in the twisted war.

“Well, look who showed up…”

Levi’s tired voice stops you in your tracks and your question dies in your throat with a quiet choke when you look up to the crowd now surrounding you. 

They are all there: Erwin, Hange and their squad, Levi’s squad, and the dozens of scouts that had risked everything to get you both where you are now. Your eyes blur with thick tears as you catch Hange’s eye, gazing at you in sadness. You want to scream, to run away, to run up and embrace them. You try to compose yourself, but the tears pour down your cheeks when you see the spirits of your squad smiling at you in pride. 

“Hey boss, you’re looking pretty banged up” The tall redhead of your group approaches, you remember the day he first joined your squad, all smiles and false confidence. Next to him stands his closest friend, you had chosen both of them at the same time, not wishing to split them apart. Next to them is your second in command, a quiet girl with a strong heart.

“Hi Leon, you can say that again. It’s good to see you again… It’s really good to see you all.” Your voice wavers as you take in the sight of them all, you gradually lost them one by one. Some before Eren’s little stunt, some after. Yet each loss hit hard.

“We’re proud of you, we knew you could do it.”

Your team salute you and the captain one last time before joining the others, fading away with a mixture of emotions on their faces. Some are sad to leave you both behind, some are happy to have gotten a final goodbye at last and some are relieved to see you still alive.

You take in a deep breath, willing your bruised heart to slow down before it bursts out of your chest. Your hands feel numb and you feel your body begin to shake as your mind tries to catch up.

“Oi, sit down before you hurt yourself even more. You look like you're about to pass out.” Levi’s voice is void of emotion as his damp eye looks up at you in concern. You sigh before waddling over to him, your body feels like stone as you collapse against the hard rock, being careful to keep a gap between your bodies, not wanting to possibly hurt him.

“I feel like I might, I also feel like I’m about to be sick.” In any other situation, you would laugh at the way his face scrunches up in disgust at the thought.

“If you do that, you better lean the other way. I don’t want to be covered in it.”

You allow yourself to let out an amused scoff, it feels unnatural to laugh as you scoot closer to him to lean your pounding head against his shoulder.

“Aye aye, captain.” You weakly raise your fist to your heart, giving him a lighthearted salute. You hear a small scoff of his own in return. 

“How…how are you doing?” Your whispered words crack as they fall past your lips and you feel him stiffen beside you.

“Good question, you?”

“...Good question, I’m going to go with tired for now.” You can feel your energy quickly fade as black splotches begin to take over your vision, and your body feels light and heavy at the same time.

Levi’s hand brushes your own. He gingerly takes your hand, softly rubbing circles into the back of your hand. “I’m going to need you to control your breathing, you’ve already lost a lot of blood with your current injuries. I need you to stay awake until we can get you sorted. Alright?” 

You give him a non-committal hum in response as you try to keep your eyes open. They feel like lead and you want nothing more than to fade into the warm embrace that sleep would bring. 

Even besides Levi, the panic continues to swirl around you, dancing maliciously with the pain and nausea. A part of you knows that there is no reason to be scared, you won, yet everything is still unknown. Where do you go from here? Can either of you last for much longer in your sorry states?

Before you can get too lost in your mind, a sharp wave of pain rushes through you when Levi gives you a gentle jab with his elbow, his eyebrows are furrowed with worry as you let out a deep grunt.

“I’m serious, don’t you dare fall asleep until we know you’re in the clear. Do you hear me?”

His words are harsh and yet you can hear the frantic worry that's hidden just below the surface. You want to reply, to tease him for his worry, just like old times, but when you go to open your mouth, you feel as if you are miles away. The world grows darker and the part of you that's not overwhelmed with panic feels guilty for the added stress now thrown onto Levi.

Light chatter surrounds you when you open your eyes, you squint as the harsh sunlight invades your vision. You can feel a thin blanket covering your body and a stiff pillow supporting your head; you feel groggy as you try to take in your surroundings and you mumble incoherently. The chatter dies instantly, a blurry head popping up in your light of sight, blocking the sunlight peaking through the medical tent flap.

“Captain Levi, they’re awake!” Connie’s voice booms through the small, cramped tent. You wince as his voice pierces through your skull, causing it to pound angrily. You had hoped you could sleep through the worst of your injuries, but you have never had the best luck.

“We can see that, quiet down.” Levi’s voice causes your heart to lighten. You groan as you bring yourself to sit up within the medical cot, Levi’s hands holding onto you tightly as he helps guide your stubborn self into a comfortable sitting position.

Connie is hovering nervously by the side of your bed, while Jean and Armin are sitting on the floor nearby. Levi has claimed the singular chair within the tent, placing it as close to the cot as possible. His leg has been wrapped up in bandages once more while his old ones have been replaced with clean ones. You scan his body for any more serious injuries, relaxing when nothing new stands out.

“Hey, I’m alright. We’re all okay.” Levi gives you a knowing look as the rest of the group nods in reassurance.

“Mikasa has already left…She wanted to leave with Eren before…They wouldn’t have given him a decent burial here.” Jean says awkwardly, unsure of what to say or how to say it.

“Way to make things depressing, Jean.”

“Alright, how would you have told them, Connie? I would love to know.”

“Enough, don’t start, you two.” The pair stiffen as Levi’s gruff voice cuts their bickering short.

“Sorry, captain.”

You watch the shenanigans in amusement, your eyes shining with more tears as you take the moment in. They are all okay, they will be okay. The gloom that surrounds you all begins to vanish as a new form of normalcy tries to settle in. 

Levi gives them a stern look before slowly standing from his chair. You watch as he grits his teeth, doing his best to keep his mask of nonchalance firmly in place despite the agony he feels. 

“What are you doing?”

“What do you think? I’m going to find you something to eat. You’ve been asleep for hours and I know you haven’t managed to eat much during all the bullshit.” “Levi…” “What? You’re a damn brat when hungry, it’s more for our sake than yours.” You can’t help the smile that finds its way onto your face despite your concern. You can hear the others snicker, trying to stifle their amusement before he turns on them as well. 

“Oh, captain. It’s alright, please sit down.” Armin rushes up to Levi, his hands hovering before him as if he’s scared to try and place them upon Levi. After a moment of uncertainty, Armin proceeds to gently help Levi sit back down. Your heart warms as you watch Levi reluctantly accept their help without any pushback.

“Connie has already sorted out the snacks,” Armin explains in response to Levi’s questioning glare.

“Yeah, I found a basket of fruit and sandwiches that everyone had put together when we made the camp. Before anyone says anything, I know it’s bad considering…yeah…but I managed to swipe a few for us.”

You thank Connie as he tosses a slightly squashed sandwich in your direction, not realising just how hungry you are as you bite into it. You feel Levi’s hand grasp yours as he slowly eats his own. A peaceful silence falls over the tent, only to be quickly broken.

“Hey, Armin. That was pretty brave of you, y’know.” Connie’s loud whispering catches the attention of everyone as you all slowly turn to watch the pair. Armin raises his eyebrows, confusion plastered clearly on his face.

“Telling the captain what to do like that. I’d have fainted if I were in your shoes.” “Well…” Armin takes a moment to consider his words, a playful gleam in his eyes.

“Remember 4 years ago? He did say we could tell him what to do when all the titans were dead.”

Your eyes widen as your shoulders begin to shake with restrained laughter. Jean and Connie are frozen in shock as Levi lets out a loud groan.

“I was hoping you kids had forgotten that, don’t get cocky.”

You don’t miss the way his voice softens as the group's playful behaviour sinks in. You squeeze his hand, receiving a light squeeze in return when you shuffle to lean closer to him.

His voice is low, just loud enough for you to make out his whispered words. 

“I think we’re going to be alright.”

“Yeah, I think we will be.”

[evera-era]

a new kind of love. (pt. 1)

synopsis: ellie thinks relationships are too complicated, and has since written them off. but what is she supposed to do when she starts developing feelings for her best friend?

ellie williams x fem!reader

warnings: slow burn AF, jealousy, some sassy ellie, male tries flirting with reader for like 3 seconds, lots of playful banter.

a/n: this was honestly so fun to write,, slow burn + friends to lovers go brrrrr

“Did you see that shit?!” Ellie exclaims, almost cracking her neck to look at you. “Fuck yeah! That’s a new high score.”

“Nice.” You mumbled, but your eyes didn’t drift from the book you were reading.

“Seriously? You’re not even looking.” She groans. “Whatever. If you did, your mind would’ve been blown. And you would’ve at least given me, like, a high five or something.”

“Okay, okay, sorry! I’ll look now — do it again.” You say, folding the corner of the current page you were on. Ellie adjusts her backpack as you put your book away.

“I can’t just ‘do it again,’” She says, mocking you. “My chances of ever getting that far again are practically zero.”

Ellie had managed to successfully skip a rock all the way across a large stretch of lake. It was a big deal to her, clearly. She had done this everytime you went on this particular path during patrols, but today was a new record for her.

The air was still. You took a moment to examine the trees around you before speaking. “Everything seems clear.” You said, turning to her. “Should we head back now?”

Ellie stops to take a look around. She gives a quick nod. “…Yeah. Guess so.”

You grinned before raising your hand. She turns, slightly puzzled, before narrowing her eyes at you.

“C’mon,” You wiggle your outstretched fingers a little. “Your celebratory high five, like you said!”

“Yeah, but now it’s out of pity. And about two minutes late.”

She waits for you to step aside, but you don’t put your arm down. “Mm-mm. I’m not moving til we make up, Els.”

Make up. The phrase makes her stop, just for a second. She found it a little amusing — you’ve never said that before. But she knew you were trying to make her feel better, so she chucks it up to you just being you.

She claps her hand against yours before making her way down the trail. “There. We made up. Happy?” She says, already having placed some distance between you two. You jog to catch up with her as she mounts Shimmer.

The two of you arrive back in Jackson about an hour earlier than any other given day, since today’s route was shorter than the rest. As you’re dropping off the horses, Ellie looks at you.

“I’m starving.” She says, guiding Shimmer. “Wanna grab lunch?”

“Sure.” You reply.

“Cool.” She offers you the horse’s lead. “Think you can put her up for me? I’ll be back in a sec.”

When Ellie returns to the spot she left you and Shimmer in a moment ago, she’s confused. The horse was not in her stable. In fact, she was nowhere to be found — and neither were you.

Ellie blows raspberries, slightly concerned. But that quickly fades when you turn the corner, Shimmer’s lead in hand.

“Ta-da!” You cheer. Shimmer’s hair is littered in fake plastic butterflies, tucked neatly within her strands. “It’s those little hair clips I found on our last patrol. Isn’t she purty?”

Ellie rolls her eyes, dropping her hand from her hip. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” You frown. “You don’t like it?”

“Looks kinda weird.”

“Ellie!” You whine.

She sighs. “Okay, sure. She looks… purty… indeed.”

“‘Course she does,” You say in a proud manner, walking Shimmer confidently to her stable. Ellie looks off to the side, her face beginning to warm as she murmurs “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

She pretended to be annoyed, but truthfully, she cherished days like these. The two of you hadn’t gotten scheduled together in a while. And even though you were adults now, and had other responsibilities, she didn’t miss your company any less.

She still liked Jesse and Dina, of course, but she wasn’t nearly as close with them like she was with you. You and Ellie were basically inseparable; you had been, ever since the very first day that you joined the community.

You broke the silence first. “Hey, maybe one day, you’ll let me play in your hair.”

Ellie glares at you. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?” You urged. “Come on, I bet I could make you look just as pretty as Shimmer.”

She shakes her head. “Nope. Hell no.”

“Hm… you’re right.” Your devious grin widens. “You could never look that good.”

Ellie elbows you in your side, and you burst into a fit of giggles.

“Shut up. Let’s go eat.”

—

A few days later, Ellie was at the pub with Jesse when she glanced over and got caught off guard.

You were walking in, talking and giggling with some random guy that she had never seen before.

The interaction she witnessed left a weird taste in her mouth. You were so engaged in the conversation that you didn’t even look where you were going. If you did, you would’ve seen that your best friend was actually in the same bar.

It might’ve just been platonic, but for some reason, it annoyed her ever-so-slightly. You and Ellie talk about everything, and yet you’ve never mentioned him.

To make matters worse, his eyes were lusty and unwavering and practically embedding themselves into yours. And you didn’t seem to notice — or maybe you just didn’t care — which pissed her off to no end.

“Who’s that?” She questions, jutting her chin in your direction. Jesse looks over his shoulder, then back at his drink.

“Uh… stable boy, is what they call him. I think.” He says. “Came into town two nights ago, along with his dad. An old friend of someone’s.”

“Is he, like… into her, or something?” She mumbles, watching intently. Jesse replies with something along the lines of “Hm. Might be.”

The guy was tall, which forced you to look up at him through your lashes. He was smiling the whole time; he clearly liked this angle of you.

Ellie resists the urge to clench her teeth. Can’t you see that he’s so obviously thinking with his dick right now?

Ellie knew it was wrong to feel this way. You were allowed to make new friends, and she shouldn’t interfere with that. But she couldn’t help it — the guy seemed like a fucking creep. She hated that you were even talking to him.

Thinking about it wasn’t enough. Whatever it was, it was bubbling up under her skin, as if someone lit a match underneath her.

“Gonna introduce myself.” She says, setting down her glass. She doesn’t even wait for Jesse’s response before she’s hot on your trail.

When she approaches you, she says nothing. Merely clears her throat and gives a curt nod to your new friend.

“Oh, hey Els!” You say, touching her shoulder. You looked back over at him. “This is my best friend, Ellie. She looks scary, but she’s nice. I promise.”

Ellie remains silent, just purses her lips and puts her hands in her pockets. There’s a noticeable shift of energy in the conversation. Stable boy must have picked up on it; it’s not long before he excuse himself and leaves.

It’s almost comical how quickly Ellie relaxes upon his exit. You drop your hand and give her a dramatic stare, jaw agape.

“What?”

“Really?” You say in a loud whisper. “Els, I know it might be hard for you sometimes, but you don’t have to be a dick!”

“Pfft. I was not being a dick.” She protests. “And even if I was — he literally deserved it! That dude was looking at you like he wanted to bone you. It was fuckin’ gross.”

“Oh my god, Ellie—“

“What? It’s the truth!” She states, like it’s a fact. “Look, I get that he probably hasn’t seen a cute girl in a fucking millennium, but—“

“Did he tell you that?” You ask sarcastically.

“Whatever.” She mutters. “I just took him down a couple notches, that’s all. He’ll survive.”

“He was just being nice.” You say before pausing. “Wait. Did you call me cute?”

Honestly, the words had came out before she had a chance to catch them. She’s not really sure why she even said it at all.

Ellie didn’t normally lie, but she knew you’d never shut up if she didn’t. So she glances at you, then sneers. “And risk it getting to your head when it’s big enough as it is?”

You punch her in the arm, to which she very quickly defends herself against. She’s in the middle of playfully warding you off as Jesse approaches the two of you.

“We abusing Ellie now?” He jokes, glass in hand. Ellie gives you a light shove as you let go of her forearm.

“When isn’t she?” She says.

“Puh-lease,” You enunciate. “That was nothing. You’re gettin’ soft, Els.”

The auburn-haired girl laughs it off. As you and Jesse begin to make conversation, Ellie — for some reason — can feel her face wanting to tingle again.

She didn’t like it. It was ticklish, it annoyed her, and it seemed to only start doing that around you, nowadays.

What the fuck is happening?

Maybe she was getting a bit soft after all.

[alchemistc]

fascination with your presentation | bucktommy 1/1

read on ao3

Tommy likes to touch things. It's just a random quirk of his that Eddie's noticed - a hand sliding along the back of the couch as he follows Eddie into the kitchen to grab a beer, fingers balancing along the table as he leans, elbow pressing into the frame of the doorway like he's gauging the space between walls.

He's tactile - a smack to the space between his shoulders, fist bumps and high fives and teasing hair ruffles when he's got Eddie pinned in the middle of a spar and they both know Eddie isn't getting out of it.

It's nice. There aren't a lot of men, especially with their background, in their line of work, who are remotely comfortable expressing affection like that.

He's a fan.

Christopher is less so, when Tommy lays a big hand to the crown of his head and goes for a noogie. He huffs, rolls his eyes, rolls his head forward and away from the touch, makes some noise about a call he's supposed to make later that night and how he doesn't want his hair messed up for it, and Tommy holds his hands up in apology, fighting a grin as Chris smooths his hair back down.

Eddie's used to it already, so it takes him a second to really notice Tommy rounding the edge of the table to flick through papers and pictures and receipts tacked to the fridge as he digs through one of his drawers in search of the bottle opener he knows he has stashed in here somewhere. Eddie's more of a twist cap beer guy, but Tommy's oddly flavored fancy bottles always need an opener.

"Here," Tommy says, and Eddie turns just in time to catch the keys Tommy slings at him.

"I don't like your truck that much," Eddie tells him, which is a lie.

Tommy tips his head forward to indicate the keys. "Bottle opener, Diaz."

Which makes sense. He should get one for himself, actually. It's a little shocking neither one of them carries a utility knife on them. The preparedness rules maybe didn't stick after discharge as well as they could have

Tommy's gaze drifts, and Eddie watches his head tilt, ring and middle finger reaching up to tap at one of the pictures on the fridge. Chris and Buck, a few years back, some trip to the museum during either Buck or Chris' dinosaur phase. Buck's holding a giant stuffed pteranodon ("Pterodactyls were smaller and had cone-shaped teeth and backward-projecting crests, actually, and this isn't technically the most accurate depiction anyway, it's generally accepted they probably had feathers, now." -- So, definitely Buck's phase, now that he's remembering.) and Chris has a specific brand of smile across his face that Eddie has quietly dubbed his Buck-smile. Something around the edges of his eyes that's always just a little brighter for Buck.

"Cute picture," Tommy says, and Chris's eyes draw to it as Tommy taps his knuckles once-twice to it before dropping his hand to his side.

It's not the first time someone in this circle of three has brought up Buck.

The first night Tommy'd been here, camped out on the couch watching a game, Chris had had a million questions, and Buck had come up pretty naturally over the course of them comparing disasters they'd been a part of, or worked.

Chris had brought up the tsunami, which had led to a back and forth where they discovered Tommy had likely flown right over them at least once during that disaster of a day, and then it had evolved into Chris memorializing all of Buck's greatest (most traumatizing) hits - pinned under a fire engine, climbing a crane tower in the middle of a county wide panic about a shooter targeting firefighters (he doesn't bring up Eddie being shot, which - maybe they should revisit that at some point, make sure Chris isn't burying that), Buck getting struck by lightning, Buck taking charge in the bridge collapse.

And obviously, if Chris was gonna debate Star Wars, he was gonna bring up Buck's involved opinions on Machete order and OG vs Prequels vs the Somehow Palpatine Returned era, and be delighted that Tommy's opinion differed from Buck's, because that made Chris the victor in that ongoing battle.

Buck is a big part of Chris and Eddie's lives, so he's gonna be dropped into conversation. Nothing strange about that.

Tommy always calls him Evan, which is a big old dose of whiplash every time, and he can't think why he does that, because despite Buck introducing himself (weirdly) as Buh-Evan Buckley, they've seen each other since, and no one else Tommy talks to calls him Evan, so he doesn't know why Buck hasn't corrected him.

Chris' mouth does something strange as Tommy keeps looking at the picture, his expression going a little curious in a way Eddie can't quite parse, and then he's grinning. There's no reason to be suspicious, except for the way he actually puts down his phone to engage with Tommy as Eddie passes a beer off.

"Yeah, Buck always takes me to exhibits every time there's a new one. He's cool like that."

Tommy hums around his first sip, expression placid, posture relaxed. "Maybe I could take you to the next one."

Christopher's eyes narrow.

Eddie's lost.

"Uh, not without Buck. Carla took me once without him and he pretended to be fine about it for weeks until I asked him to take me again. He was not happy we went without him. But you could come with us."

Tommy tap-tap-taps his finger against the rim of his bottle, unfazed by the slightly territorial way Chris had phrased it. Eddie's fazed. Eddie is not sure there's not a second layer to this conversation he's missing. "I'll look it up. Jot it down in my day book."

Christopher is too young to have a clue what that means, but he doesn't seem to be quite done with whatever the hell it is he's got going on right now. "Good," he says. "Buck's single right now, so he's got a lot of extra time for stuff."

Tommy's gaze flits to Christopher's, and Eddie doesn't have a fucking clue what's going on, but it's a weighted look for half a second before Chris' gaze turns back to his phone.

"You have his number, right? Maybe you should call him and figure out a day we can all go."

Something happens around the corners of Tommy's mouth that he hides by tipping the bottle mouth against his lips again. "Yeah. I've got his number."

For a second Eddie wonders why, before he remembers catching Buck down at Harbor before the fight. When had Buck gotten his number?

"Cool," says Chris, eyes already glued back to his phone. "We usually get lunch first. Buck really likes pizza."

"Everyone likes pizza," Tommy says, eyes glimmering with mirth that Eddie absolutely does not know the source of.

"Yeah, but Buck's picky about it. He says there's a perfect pizza to crust ratio that most places don't get right. Also he likes it when they have a stone oven, and the little pizza risers."

Tommy rolls his tongue over his teeth. And - why is Eddie watching this interaction so carefully? It's not like he's worried Tommy's gonna say something weird to his kid, even if his kid is being weird.

"I'm gonna go throw the game on. You hungry?"

Tommy's eyes shift to meet his, and Eddie feels that same frisson of excitement he gets sometimes when Buck is paying close attention to him. "I could eat. Not pizza though. There's nowhere around here with a good stone oven."

"Dad likes pineapple on his pizza, his pizza opinions suck."

Eddie tosses his hands up. This is an old argument, one created entirely by Buck because Chris hadn't minded a good Canadian pizza before Buck declared war on them. "Pizza's just pizza. I was thinking Chinese, anyway."

"Can we get those spring rolls Buck always gets?"

Tommy's gaze slips to the fridge one more time, eyes drifting across the picture he'd pointed out earlier, before he unclips the menu for the Chinese place down the street from its spot half-covering the calendar to hand it off to Eddie. He spots the circle around their plans for Thursday and reaches out to touch the date.

"You invite anyone else for Thursday?"

Eddie rolls his top lip over his bottom one. "Buck hates basketball, turns me down every time I ask. I might ask Chim, though, he and his brother always liked to play."

Literally nothing in Tommy's expression changes, but Eddie feels like he's reacting to something in that sentence anyway. He's trying to figure out how to cut the weird tension in the room when Christopher starts listing off his order, and he's so distracted by trying to get a list prepared to call that he misses two thirds of Chris and Tommy's continued conversation, which is somehow, for some reason, still about Buck. Geez, is Chris pissed that Eddie's got a new friend? He should invite Buck next time he makes plans to hang out at home with Tommy.

----

"It was a date," Buck tells him, a week and a half later, while Eddie's staring at his phone like looking hard enough might make it, and his relationship with Marisol, maybe disappear. Just for a little while, while he squares things up with God.

Eddie tosses his phone, turns to look at Buck in the second before it computes, manages to pull back just enough so that it's not a full, ridiculous double take.

"When you and Marisol ran into me and Tommy, we were on a date."

"Really?" Buck usually tells him the second he's interested in someone, because for some reason he thinks Eddie has any idea how to have a loving, lasting relationship, even though Eddie's been lobbing live grenades straight at love since he was fourteen. He hadn't said a word to Eddie about -

Well.

Well actually --

Well shit.

Oh, he's definitely giving Tommy and Christopher both shit about this later.

"Wait, Tommy's gay?"

A whole host of things are suddenly lining up -- Buck at Harbor the afternoon before the fight, and Buck asking half a million questions after the fight, and Buck and Tommy both picking at the thread of Christopher's praises for the other, and -- Buck had been jealous. Buck had been jealous of Eddie spending time with Tommy. Buck had shoulder checked him to the court and sprained his ankle because he liked the guy enough to lose his head about it.

Oh, he's gonna hold this over all of their heads for sure.

Which for the moment is apparently not that great an idea because Tommy'd pressed pause after one date, which is fast even for Buck. He tells him so.

"When we ran into you guys I kinda made an idiot of myself and he said he doesn't think I'm ready." Buck looks -- sad. Disappointed. Nervous, hands rubbing at his thighs like he's soothing himself. It's a fair point, on Tommy's part, even if he doesn't know all the details.

(Something about hot chicks pings in the back of his mind, but he shelves it for later.)

Buck's never really hinted at romantic inclinations in that direction, although some of his comments about good looking guys are making a little more sense, in retrospect.

"What do you think?" Eddie's pretty sure he knows the answer to this question, but he asks anyway, because Buck likes to work these things out. He likes to talk about them. Eddie imagines not being able to articulate exactly what he was feeling without wondering if his friends would think it was weird probably (definitely) contributed to his wildly dramatic behavior the last few weeks.

Geez, Tia Pepa would be eating this telenovela shit up.

"I kinda can't stop thinking about him," Buck tells him, and it's a voice Eddie's not entirely sure he's ever heard from Buck before -- at least when he's talking about someone he's into. Buck's always got a checklist and a trillion rationalizations. Now he just sounds... smitten.

And Tommy is too, Eddie thinks. He is absolutely gonna call him out for pumping his kid for information. Maybe accuse him of only befriending him to get to Buck -- see if he can make the unflappable Tommy Kinard flap, a little.

"You should call him," Eddie tells him, already imagining double dates with a partner of Buck's he doesn't hope will spontaneously combust in the middle of dinner. Maybe between Tommy, Chris and Eddie they can finally convince Buck to go to one of the car shows he's always rolling his eyes at. Maybe Tommy and his terribly hidden romantic side can actually match Buck's crazy.

Eddie hugs Buck on his way out the door and feels the tension drain from his shoulders.

Maybe touched starved Buck will get to enjoy that little tactile quirk of Tommy's, too.

[doberbutts]

Out of curiosity, how to you get your dog to target just the padded part of the target, and not like, an unprotected leg? Like, obviously training, but what does that look like at the beginning? Thanks!

So from the very beginning, most dogs are taught to bite on the toy completely separately from being attached to any human. With Fenris, this was a strip of sheepskin (we call it the bunny)

Once he learned the game with the "bunny" darting back and forth for him to chase, he was given a more difficult toy which is mostly a strip of burlap or canvas

And then once he was biting hard enough to not let go when tugging on it to try and get it away from the decoy, he was moved to a pillow tug

This is a little harder to bite, and he needs to actually put real pressure on it to keep it when the decoy tries to take it back. It also teaches him to try to center his bite instead of drift off to one side or the other.

The (leg) sleeve is hard to hold in the same way, so at that point it had to go at least partially over the decoy's arm. By now he's so used to biting the offered toy that he has really no thought about going after the unprotected bits, because he's had a solid year of "hey you see this thing? Bite the thing and not me please".

When switching to the full leg sleeve, the decoy will usually present it to the dog initially in the form of a low kick, so the dog can see and understand where and what to bite. These photos skip a step- that's coming in my queue later- which was the leg sleeve on the leg but no suit pants. This photo is a modified leg sleeve over suit pants, so he can still "win" the sleeve.

The decoy working him in suit pants prefers the pants because sometimes in their excitement to bite the leg, the dogs can go a bit high (Fenris had some trouble with that, see here)

And an uninhibited full mouth dog bite to the knee or lower thigh is, um, unpleasant to say the least, so this decoy prefers to wear pants once the dogs are on leg bites. The first day of this seminar, a malinois that is not yet on pants went a bit high and left some heart-stopping slobber marks just left of the man's genitals. He was in shorts at the time, and apparently wasn't wearing a cup, so there's a discussion of risk to the decoy to be had too.

However, young and inexperienced dogs like Fenris and that malinois need the ability to win, or to tear the sleeve off of the decoy's body and parade around with it a little. You have to understand, for these dogs, biting is the most rewarding thing ever of all time for them. So asking the dog to let go and recall away from the bite can sometimes be interpreted by the dog as a punisher, making it so that either A: the dog no longer bites as well because they are expecting to be called off or B: the dog stops recalling because fuck you biting is fun. Neither of these are good options, so in the interim we've modified a leg sleeve to go over the suit pants so these green dogs can still get their win until they have enough experience to not risk those outcomes.

Obviously, as said, dogs can still miss, which is what the full suit is for. This is the picture the dog sees once it's time to compete.

At that point the only unprotected places are the hands and the head, which the dog should NEVER be targeting in the first place. The decoy also moves in a specific way to present various avenues for the dog to bite in the way the decoy wants the dog to bite, but that's a lesson on decoying that I'm really not qualified to give lol. However, that also means that even if the dog doesn't target the offered places, the decoy is still safe because the suit takes the majority of the bite.

Which means the dog can bite the leg, the arm, the chest, the back, the ass, or yes, even the family jewels themselves and the decoy is still protected. It should be noted that these are a mixture of mondio and French ring, PSA, and actual police dogs being pictured here.

This is also a little different from Schutzhund, now called IGP, in which the dog only ever bites the forearm. This is the only option that the dog is ever presented once the dog progresses similarly off the tugs and straps of cloth and "bunny", and so this is the most padded place on the decoy's body (in IGP they're called helpers). Not to say that no dog tries a snap elsewhere to see what might happen, but it's heavily discouraged.

[ivyyisbored22]

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭— 𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐅𝐅

Note: Check Description and other chapters first to understand the story ^^♡

Chapter 8

WARNING!!!🔞 This Chapter contains SMUT: Unprotected sex, oral (f.recieving), morning sex, mention of kink and size (I think it's that?), strong language, pet names, multiple orgasms.

Minors do not interact!!!

Bang Chan

The day I met Aria when my father introduced us to eachother a week before our wedding, some instinct told me she will be the death of me.

And I was right.

With those soft curls, brown eyes, that small beauty mark on her chin which was unwantedly attractive to my eyes, she is going to be why I'll lose every sense of control I've had of myself.

Every part of me wanted to have her last night, to make feel like she is the one and every part of her drove me crazy. Because my mind was tipsy, I wouldn't have been able to worship her the way she deserved. But one day, which isn't so far, I will have her.

It's obvious Aria desires me the same way I do, but fuck, my mind is never straight when I'm around her. Maybe Hyunjin was right. I should try talking to her sober. Instead of like a fucking alcoholic.

Never in the 26 years of my life was I ever attracted to woman the way I was attracted to Aria. She held something, a magnetic pull in her voice and in every single thing about her. A part of me wants to get lost in my world with her, forgetting about any deadline of us.

I woke up before an hour before sunrise, sitting in front of my laptop, I worked until I heard the birds chirping outside my window. Which I think was the first time I ever heard them since I moved into the mansion last year.

I usually either wake up late or don't sleep at all, depending on what I do the night before but ever since my father brought up about the marriage topic and I got married to Aria, my mind has been focusing a lot on work than anything I used to do when I was in Europe.

I was never a workaholic back then, not even when I first got the COO position, I don't know what fucking alien took over my body.

"Once you bring her home, you will understand that life is more than just partying Christopher"

My father's words replayed in my head again, echoing through the morning silence. He was right, as much as I hate to admit it.

My mind drifted back to the day of our wedding. Despite the conversation about the agreement the two of us had the night before, Aria's face was swelled with happiness on the wedding day, a smile I remember like it's a photographic memory. It's now that I'm realizing, that the smile was masking the uncertainty she must have felt.

Maybe this new focus. This relentless drive to work, was a distraction from her, my way of providing for her, of ensuring that our future was secure, well, at least for a year. But still, the change was startling.

Back in Europe, my nights were filled with laughter, music, and the constant thrill of the unknown. My friends used to joke that I would never settle down, that I was a free spirit, untethered and wild.

Yet here I was, grounded and, dare I say it, domesticated.

I looked up at my calendar on my phone, I didn't have any plans today neither was I in the mood to go to the office after finishing half of the work at home itself, I thought to check up on Aria and see if she had any plans. I quickly freshened up, ruffling my hair, I left my room and walked to hers at the other end of the corridor.

Once I reached the door to her room, hesitation crawled but like Bin said,

"If you want to make it through the next 300 whatever days without losing your fucking mind, maybe try talking to her. Really talking."

I had lock my ego up in a cage and properly communicate with her.

As I was about to knock on the door, it swung open revealing a cutely sleep-rumpled Aria, tousled but fixed hair and pillow crease on her face.

It looked like was expecting me to be at work, she instantly covered her chest, seeing the view in front of her.

She was wearing just a silk camisole and boyshorts, that gave me a view of too much of her flawless skin. The top did barely to cover those sweet, peeking nipples.

My jaw tightened at the sight at the same time sending an electrifying shock straight to my cock. Was she roaming the mansion like this when I was at work?! Almost half-naked while my staff was around?

"Chris, oh my— what are you doing here?" She stammered, her hand over her chest and eyes wide with surprise. They fell on my bare torso first and then met my face earning sly smirk from me.

"I...um. I just thought to— check up on you—"

Fuck.

The words kept coming out of my mouth before I could process them in my brain but I managed to keep my gaze fixed on her face.

Aria's eyebrows drew together, her expression a mix of confusion and concern. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine." I replied quickly, cursing at myself that this was again, a bad idea.

She blinked, clearly taken aback. "I thought you were supposed to be at work." Her voice tinged with uncertainty.

"Took the day off," I said rubbing the back of my neck and sliding my other hand in the pocket of my shorts.

"I just," I swallowed, "I wanted to see you" I finally admitted.

"Oh," She was unaware of what to say next and so was I. The moment seemed to stretch like an eternity and I fucking hated it.

"Alright then," I turned to walk downstairs but her soft hand held my wrist stopping me. "Chris wait," Her brown eyes locked with mine, steady breathing but I knew she still felt slightly intimidated by me.

For a moment the two of us stood still without a movement. The next, before either of us could say anything, I cupped her face and crushed my lips against hers.

Roughly. Possessively.

She pulled me inside her room, her fingers pressing on my arms then sliding up my neck, I kicked the door shut behind me, fisting her hair and not breaking the kiss as we fell onto her bed.

My tongue stroked the seam of her lips, I grunted, tilting her neck, demanding entrance, this time not letting any damn thing interrupt what I was going to do.

No contract. No deadline. Just her. Just us.

Her hands sank into my hair as my palm swept beneath her little silk top. We kissed like we needed eachother before the world ended.

Frantic. Hungry. Desperate. But I couldn't get enough. I needed more of this. More of her.

I broke the kiss as I trailed my path down her neck, sucking on her sweet skin, leaving my marks and making her mine. Only mine. I didn't give a fuck about anything else at this moment other than her.

"Chris..." The sound of my name as she whimpered when I cupped her breast beneath the top sent another jolt of electricity straight down to my cock, it throbbed behind the barriers of my shorts.

"That's it sweetheart. After today my name shall be the only thing you remember" I said as I slid her top off and shorts down with little effort, leaving her completely naked and bare beneath me, it was the sight of a lifetime.

Flawless skin, breasts the right size to knead and suck on, perfect little waist, I eyed her body capturing every single detail like a wanderer discovering a hidden paradise.

I leaned low and kept my mouth around her nipple, sucking the sensitive tip and rolled the other with my index and thumb, earning another whimper of my name.

"You're such a good girl"

Neck. Arms. Breasts. Every part of her had a pleasing marks of hickeys, I was eager to map every inch of her heavenly body with my hands and my mouth as I made my way down kissing the valley of her stomach to her pubic bone.

Her soft skin was hot as she trembled when I got closer to her pussy, the scent of her arousal and the glazed sight in front of me felt like snorting a line of pure cocaine. I softly placed a kitten kiss on the awaiting clit, goosebumps pebbling her skin as I stroked her thighs.

"Chris, God Chris, please"

"Please what sweetheart?" I taunted.

"Are you that excited to have my mouth on your sweet cunt and eat you out?" I cooed. She looked up at me and her head fell back on the pillow when I licked her slit.

"Tell me babydoll"

Aria's breathing increased as her hand fisted my hair so hard, the tiny ache just turned me on more.

"Yes," The word left her mouth in a plea mixed with a demand. "Please Chris"

The next second my face was buried in the wet heat between her legs.

Her back arched instantly as her juices coated my tongue, I delved on her clit like a man starving to death. Sucking and devouring her cries of pleasure as my eyes rolled to the back of my head.

Where I thought her presence drove me insane along with whiskey that had me tipsy, Aria's moans and her taste down here were fucking intoxicating. My cock twitched, matching the rhythm of my pulse, begging for me to dive into her.

Aria bucked her hips, pleading to stop, but her body begged to keep going, moan after moan escaping from her throat. Slow licks and flicks, I focused on her dripping cunt, a twelve course meal I'd enjoy for the rest of my life.

"No...please...I...more..." Aria pleaded and begged, coating my face by every passing second. I wanted all of this inked on my brain.

Her back arched as I continued to feast on her sweet little pussy. I sucked on her clit and pushed a finger stretching her lips, then another, pumping in and out, her knuckles turned white as she grabbed on to the sheets for dear life.

Forget coffee, water or a great buffet for breakfast, she tasted so much fucking better.

I groaned, sweat beading my forehead as I pulled my fingers out and I rested her legs on my shoulders, fiercly holding on her thighs, letting my tongue thrust inside of her. The taste of her made me want to do nothing but stay here and let this morning last forever.

My nose kept nudging on her clit as I ruthlessly tongue fucked her, eating her out, that tore sharp cry after cry. After feasting on her cunt, Aria came down shuddering, her orgasm flooding my senses and my face as I was sent to the ends of insanity.

"Want me to stop sweetheart?" I towered her, wiping my chin with back of my hand, her taste still lingering on my tongue. I placed my hand next to her on the pillow holding me up, the other hand pinched her nipple and then went down circling that swollen nub.

I knew she wanted more. But I loved hearing it. Making her beg.

Aria shook her head whimpering, her face was tinted pink as her cheeks were flushed with arousal, my mind clouded with lust. My cock was so hard it threatened to pierce through my shorts.

"You have to tell me babydoll."

"Don't stop Chris, please"

Nothing turns me on more than the sound her sweet voice pleading me. I freed myself from the fabrics of my shorts and boxers, they joined her clothes on the floor. Her chest was still heaving from the aftermath of her first orgasm. Oh baby she's going to come more than once.

"You will come for me again okay?" My voice remained rough even though I tried to soften, I traced her pussy with the pad of my thumb and sank two fingers again to find her still soaking.

So wet. So fucking gorgeous.

Her eyes fell on my coated fingers as I pulled them out and licked the glistening pleasure, then at my cock jutting out, long and painfully hard, when she slowly got from up her high.

I leaned down to her ear, "I'm going to make you feel really good baby"

I spread her legs further apart and positioned myself in between, grazing the tip in the inner thigh and the folds of her opening, teasing her a bit more.

"Christopher,"

Never has my name sounded this good when someone said it. I felt a different sense of pride and possessiveness when it came out of her mouth. In that voice.

The tip was still slowly grazing her opening, she was so wet, it kept slipping. I was testing my own patience along with hers, without another thought I gripped her waist, Aria's head fell back on the pillows the second I thrusted through her wet entrance smoothly.

Her legs instantly wrapped around my hips locking me into place, it was now I knew I have found my heaven on earth.

"Too— big...ah" I couldn't help but chuckle at the way she moaned and commented about my size.

"But you take it so well baby" I teased.

A muffled moan.

I stayed in place for a few seconds, letting her adjust to my length and slowly pulled out and then slammed back in.

Starting slowly and easy first, then I picked up a hard and fast pace, pounding into her, each thrust making her breasts bounce. Sweat slicked her body, her eyes and mouth were half shut as she kept moaning, it was the sweetest sound to my ears.

Christ. I've never had a kink for breasts but her tits alone were enough to drive me mad. And this sweet tight little pussy that took in my cock like she was fucking made for it.

Nails grooved scars on my back and my arms, the piercing sting felt good more than pain. She was so tight, her walls clenched nicely around my cock, it drove me out of my mind.

I slowly leaned to her face and kissed away the tears that had run down her cheeks, Aria slowly peeled her eyes open as she looked at me, they were fogged with intense pleasure and unshed tears glittering like a sparkling galaxy.

She looked at me in a way no one ever has, it fucking hurt like a punch to the soul, leaving me breathless and reeling. My mouth crashed onto hers desperately, a tidal wave possessiveness washing over me frantically.

"Mmm" She hummed into my mouth, I chuckled swiping a strand of hair from her face.

"What do you want sweetheart?"

"More— more" And that undid me.

Her pussy squeezed my cock as I fucked her harder and faster, watching her back arch and bouncing breasts, the dirtiest symphonies of moans filling the room. Seeing her take in my cock this gorgeously was a sight I want to keep seeing for the rest of my life.

"Fuck...Aria..." I hissed, her walls pulsated, I was at the edge and if I didn't release I would literally explode right here.

She looked so fucking gorgeous beneath me, I could have believed she was unreal.

No part of my skin goes untouched and no part of hers goes unfucked. I held her pretty waist beneath my palms, picking my pace, sucking on her sweet nipples, her moans and whimpers and cries sounded MUCH better than the melodic sounds from the strings of my guitar.

"Chris, I— I..." Aria moaned.

"You will sweetheart"

Molten lava dripped down my spine as I hit her G spot, her back arched, giving me the once again perfect view of her beautiful chest.

"Come," Before the word fully left my mouth she came all over my cock in a harmonious cry, flooding my cock with her juices.

I let her settle for a few seconds but then kept fucking her until another orgasm chased the first, and another, she shattered apart falling into a glorious limp of a mess and in that moment I was grateful to be alive.

After what was her fourth time coming, a few seconds later I came inside of her in a powerful orgasm that felt like a volcanic eruption, thunder roaring in my chest.

Never had sex felt so good like this.

There was sweet love making and rough hard fucking and definitely many more. But this? This felt like it was a route to find peace and but at the same time, a route to insanity.

I slowly pulled myself out, in taking the sight of her wrecked wet pussy and kissed her inner thigh making my way upto her face and fell next to her. The both of us starting the day in a very Good Morning.

"Goodness Chris I...," I chuckled at her breathless response and turned to her, placing a kiss on her forehead and pulled her into my chest in a tight embrace.

I had surely pushed her beyond her limits after making her come so much, I held her tight, wrapping her with my warmth.

I've had my time back in Europe with other women, but I cuddles after sex wasn't my thing. It was way too intimate and I couldn't get myself lost in that. And I had my rules when fucking.

Don't look at me in the eyes. Don't expect aftercare or whatever. Simple.

But Aria. Damn it. She is the reason why the icy barriers I built around my heart is threatening to crack.

"How do you feel sweetheart?" I asked, her lips met the soft skin on my neck causing me to inhale a deep breath.

"Amazing" Her eyes closed, my hand glided up from her ass to her waist, my grip tightening.

"Is this why you took your day off?" She asked mischievously, I let out a deep chuckle, my grin widening.

"Maybe. Since I'm always having trouble getting you," I pulled her, her chest pressed against my chest, "I had enough of it"

"I see. Well, I didn't know Bang Christopher Chan desired so much"

"You don't know how crazy you drive me" I said pressing my mouth on hers hard and demanding. She melted against me as I kissed her, never getting tired of her taste.

We remained in each other's embrace for a while before I glanced at the clock on the wall, it was almost 9am, I slowly removed my arm from under her neck and sat up on the bed, the sheets rumpled around my waist.

She got up as well, an expression painting across her face, worrying if I might leave after having my time. Honestly I did want to leave now that I fucked her but somehow something made me stay with her.

I leaned in and smiled at her, kissing the corner of her lips.

"You've plans for today?" I don't know why, but I wanted to spend some time with her, my friends' advices still replayed in my head every now and then. She shook her head, looking at me, curiosity filled in her eyes.

"Good. I have a nice spot we can go to"

I'm definitely getting myself locked in a complicated cage, mixing sex when we have an expiration date.

But when time comes, I'll deal with it then.

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

Taglist: @bowsnbang @bangchannie97lov @hwasmints @laurenalpha123

If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know <3

Thank you for reading!

xx,Ivyy

Next Chapter

[hoesluvjude]

The Last Goodbye ||Jude bellingham

Word count : 1k

Genre:angst

Summary:Y/n and Jude see each other after a break up

Masterlist

It had been four years since Y/n and Jude ended their relationship. Four long years filled with distance, growth, and quiet moments when she still thought of him—the boy she had loved more than anything, who had slipped away as their lives diverged.

Back then, they were inseparable, despite his demanding football career and her ambitions. They believed that love was enough to bridge the gaps, but life had a way of proving otherwise, and no amount of devotion could prevent the inevitable strain caused by long-distance calls, missed holidays, and schedules that never aligned. Eventually, they let go. At least, she thought they had.

She thought she had moved on. At least, she had tried to. Jude was a part of her past now, someone she had loved deeply but ultimately let go. She had long stopped torturing herself by following his career too closely. The fame, the football, the glamorous lifestyle—it wasn’t a world she fit into, not back then, and certainly not now.

She hadn’t expected to ever hear from him again, but that all changed when she received a text message late one evening, as she sat curled up on her couch with a book, a mug of tea growing cold on the coffee table. Her phone buzzed, and when she saw the name flash on the screen, her breath caught in her throat.

Jude: Can we talk? Please, I need to see you. Just one last time.

The message hit her like a punch to the chest. Her fingers hovered over the screen, her heart pounding in her chest. She stared at the words, disbelief and confusion swirling in her mind. It had been years since they’d spoken, since their lives had split in different directions. And now, after all this time, he wanted to talk?

Y/n’s instincts told her to ignore it, to leave the past where it belonged, but her heart, the same heart that had never fully stopped loving Jude, couldn’t help but feel a flicker of curiosity—of unresolved feelings begging to be heard.

She hesitated, then slowly typed out her response.

Y/N: Okay. Where?

---

The café was quiet, the late afternoon sun casting a soft glow across the tables. Y/n arrived early, a nervous energy buzzing in her chest. She hadn’t seen Jude in years. They had drifted apart after their breakup, and she’d done her best to stay clear of the world he now inhabited. The fame, the spotlight, the constant attention—it was so far removed from her quiet life that it felt like he existed in an entirely different universe.

And now, he was getting married. That much she knew. A mutual friend had mentioned it a few months ago in passing. It had stung, but she had told herself it didn’t matter. They were long over. He was allowed to move on.

But why did he need to see her now, days before his wedding?

The bell above the café door chimed, pulling her from her thoughts. Y/n looked up, her breath catching in her throat

There he was.

Jude walked into the café with an air of quiet confidence that he hadn’t possessed in his younger years. He was taller, broader, more mature than the boy she remembered, but his presence still caused a familiar flutter in her chest. His dark eyes scanned the room until they found her, and he walked over, his steps measured, like he wasn’t sure what to expect from her.

"Y/n," he greeted softly as he stood in front of her table, his voice gentle but filled with something unspoken.

"Jude," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her.

He sat down across from her, his gaze lingering on her face as if he was trying to read her reaction. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the weight of years apart hanging heavily between them.

"Thank you for coming," Jude said after a long pause, his voice quiet but sincere.

Y/n nodded, keeping her hands wrapped around her coffee mug to keep from fidgeting. "I wasn’t sure if I should."

"I know," Jude admitted, glancing down at the table. "I wasn’t sure if I should ask."

"Then why did you?" she asked, her voice soft but filled with genuine curiosity."It’s been years. What do you need to talk about?"

Jude let out a slow breath, leaning forward slightly as he ran a hand through his face, a gesture she remembered all too well from their time together. He looked down for a moment before meeting her gaze again, his expression more vulnerable than she had ever seen it.

"I’ve been thinking about you," he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. "About us. About everything we had... and how it ended."

Y/n’s heart ached at his words, but she forced herself to remain composed. She had spent years healing from the heartbreak of their breakup, years convincing herself that Jude had moved on without a second thought, but now, hearing him speak, she realized that maybe he hadn’t let go as easily as she thought.

"You left, Jude," she said, her voice steady but tinged with sadness. "You chose your career. And I... I understood that. I never wanted to hold you back."

"I know," he whispered, his eyes filled with regret. "And I hate that I made you feel like you were something I had to give up. But back then... I thought I had to make a choice. Football was everything, and I thought I had to put it above everything else."

Y/n swallowed hard, her chest tightening as memories of their breakup flooded her mind. She had never doubted that Jude loved her, but the demands of his career had been too much. They had tried to make it work—long-distance phone calls, visits when they could manage—but eventually, it had become clear that their lives were heading in different directions.

"And now?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why are you here, days before your wedding, asking to see me?"

Jude’s eyes flickered with pain at the mention of his wedding, and for a moment, Y/n thought she saw the cracks in his carefully constructed exterior.

"Because I’ve never stopped thinking about you," he said quietly, his voice raw with emotion. "I’ve never stopped wondering if we could have had another chance."

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding painfully in her chest. She had waited years to hear those words, but now that they were finally being spoken, they didn’t bring the relief she had once imagined. Instead, they brought confusion, heartache, and the realization that time had moved on, even if their feelings hadn’t.

"Jude," she began, her voice shaky, "you’re getting married. You’ve built a life with someone else. Why are you telling me this now?"

He looked down, his hands clasped together tightly as if he was struggling to find the right words. "I don’t know," he admitted, his voice barely audible. "I guess I needed to know if there was still something between us before I could move forward with my life."

Y/n stared at him, the weightof his words settling heavily on her heart. She had spent so long trying to move on, trying to build a life without him, and now here he was, asking her to confront the feelings she had buried deep inside.

"There was always something between us," she said softly, her voice laced with sadness. "But that was a long time ago. We’ve both changed. We’ve both moved on."

He nodded slowly, his eyes filled with regret. "I know. But I had to see you. I had to say... I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the way I left, for the way things ended. You deserved better."

She felt tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back, determined not to fall apart in front of him.

"I loved you, Jude," she whispered. "I loved you more than anything. But we can’t go back. We can’t undo what’s already been done."

Jude looked at her for a long moment, his expression filled with sorrow and regret. "I’ll always love you," he said softly, his voice breaking slightly. "But I know... it’s too late."

Y/n’s heart shattered at his words, but she forced herself to stay strong. "You need to live your life, Jude. You need to move forward. You’ve made your choice, and I’ve made mine."

He nodded, his shoulders slumping slightly as he exhaled. "I know. I just... I’m sorry."

She reached out, placing a gentle hand on his. "So am I."

They sat there in silence for a moment longer before Jude stood up. He gave her one last, lingering look, a look filled with everything they had lost, before turning and walking away.

Y/n watched him leave, her heart heavy with the weight of what could have been. And as the door closed behind him, she realized that, though she would always love Jude, it was time to let go.

---

A few weeks later, a letter arrived in Y/N’s mailbox. The handwriting on the envelope was unmistakable—Jude’s. Her hands shook slightly as she opened it, unfolding the paper inside.

Y/N,

I didn’t say everything I wanted to when we met. I’m not sure I ever could. But there are things I need you to know, even if I don’t deserve your time anymore.

I’ve thought about us more than I can put into words. I’ve thought about the mistakes I made, the ways I let you down, and I’ve spent so long trying to convince myself that I did the right thing—that my career was worth losing you.

But the truth is, no success or fame could ever make up for what I lost when I lost you.

I’m not writing this to hurt you or to drag you back into my life. I know we’re in different places now, and I respect that. But I needed you to know that loving you was the best part of me, and it’s a part I’ll carry with me for the rest of my life.

I don’t expect a reply, and I won’t reach out again. This is me saying goodbye for good. But please know, wherever life takes you, I’m always wishing you happiness. You deserve all the love in the world.

Always,

Jude

Y/N sat on her couch, the letter resting in her hands, her vision blurred with unshed tears. She had always known that letting go of Jude was the right thing, but this... this felt like the closure she hadn’t realized she needed.

As she folded the letter and tucked it away, she realized that maybe, just maybe, it was finally time to let go of the past and move forward, knowing that they had both loved and lost in a way that had shaped them forever.