#built-in lounger

[thejoshlange]

Wilmington Pool Infinity

Ideas for a large, modern backyard remodel with a rectangular infinity hot tub

[raikoh14]

Pool Pool Landscaping in Phoenix

Inspiration for a large, modern backyard landscaping project with a custom-shaped infinity pool

[thetriumphantpanda]

freedom felt like summer | joel miller

Summary | Weeks of flirting back and forth with your neighbour Joel all comes to a head when he makes sure every inch of you in covered in suncream.

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Word Count | 2.6K

Warnings | Explicit - reader wears a bikini and uses sun cream but is otherwise a blank slate. Alcohol consumption. Swearing, flirting, and dirty talk. Explicit smut - oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected PiV smut, creampie. No outbreak au and no use of y/n.

Authors Note | We've had a slither of sun in the UK and this is what happens. Big thanks to @undercoverpena for the shorts idea ;) I hope you enjoy! If you do, please consider reblogging, leaving comments or leaving a tip via my Ko-Fi.

Divider by the wonderful @saradika

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi.

There’s nothing quite like an Austin summer. Hot sun beating down, but with the new pool your parents had built when you’d moved out and their fully stocked fridge of soda and ice, it wasn’t too bad at all.

They’d gone on their annual holiday, two weeks in Mexico, which meant you had two weeks of lounging by the pool, soaking up the sun and bleeding them for their food and drinks. No responsibilities, is what you’d told yourself, laptop shut and job applications waiting, whilst you soaked the sun into your skin and made margaritas too strong once the clock struck 1pm.

The heat across your skin had dried the chlorine water quickly, coconut scented suncream slathered across every inch you could reach, not worrying about your back because it was pressed against the back of the lounger. You’re just started to drift off, eyes closing behind your sunglasses, when a voice jolts you.

“You manage to reach your back with that?”

There’s a small smirk that flashes across your mouth, quickly bitten away by your teeth as you sit up and turn around a little, looking over to the fence where Joel Miller is leaning over, pointing to the bottle of suncream on the small table next to you.

“Hard to reach there when it’s just me,” You shrug, “But it’s okay, it’s not getting any of the sun anyhow.”

He shakes his head and makes a tsk sound with his tongue against his teeth, “Don’t mean you shouldn’t try and cover it,” He says, sounding more like your dad than you’d care to admit, “The sun ain’t gonna look at that lounger and think it can’t burn you.”

“Well, I'm here on my own,” You offer, “Unless you’re gonna volunteer to smear it on my back, Miller, I'm gonna have to risk it.”

You can see him thinking over the fence, wondering if this is a good idea, much like he’s been thinking since you came home - degree done, jobs waiting - he’d flirted with you at your dad’s cookout in honour of you graduating, swapped numbers with you the day your parents left for vacation ‘in case you needed him’, and has spent the last week making any excuse to peek his head over the fence and talk to you, specifically when you’re out in your bikini, mostly when you’re dripping wet from coming out of the pool.

He holds his finger up and then disappears from view, only to come back seconds later through the gate at the bottom of your garden that connects your land with his. Your dad had been weary of it at first, but as soon as he’d met Joel, they’d hit it off, and now the gate is used more than the front door when they want to drink together.

He’s dressed simply, a pair of jeans and a worn t-shirt. Too stifling for you, you think, but you know he’s spent most of his life on building sites, so he must be used to the heat of the sun on his skin. Joel comes to a stop near the small table, but instead of picking up the bottle of cream, he opts for the half-empty glass of margarita you’d made not too long ago. He takes a sip and makes a face, which makes you laugh.

“Never understand how you women like this stuff.”

Setting the glass down, he picks up the bottle of cream and flips the lid, motioning for you to sit up, which you do, turning on the lounger so your back is facing him. The bottle of cream is really on its last legs, coming to the very end, so you can hear the bottle express more air than cream the first time he squeezes it. You hear him rubbing his hands together and then feel him step a little closer to your back.

“Ready?” He asks, voice low, to which you nod your head.

Then his hands are on you and it’s better than you ever had thought. They’re rough against your skin, but the way they’re gliding across your back is gentle. His hands drag the cream down your spine to the band of your bikini top, before he’s working it into your skin, all the way up to the nape of your neck. You can feel your head tipping forward, struggling to stifle a groan when you feel him gently shift one of the straps of your top down so he can bring the cream up and over your shoulders, his hand big enough that his fingers brush your collarbone. He repeats his actions on the other side, making sure to bring the straps back up when he’s done, then he gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“All done.”

“You’re a professional at that, Miller,” You praise, “Spend a lot of time rubbing suncream into girls backs, do you?”

“All the time.” Is his dry response as you move to lay back down.

When you turn your head, he’s already walking away.

“You can stay,” You offer, “If you’ve got nothing else to do.”

He stands still for a second before he turns over his shoulder, “Let me change and then I’ll come back.”

He’s doing this on purpose, you think, as you watch him glide under the water again, head dipping up as his arms work him down the pool where he comes to a stop, taking wet hands to slick his hair back from his forehead.

“You ever thought of having your own built?” You ask, sipping from the fresh margarita you’d made.

He shakes his head, “Thought about it a fair bit when Sarah was younger but now it would be wasted on me,” He explains, “Besides, I can always come and use yours,” You watch him bend his knees a little in the water so his chest is submerged, “Kinda hot out there, why don’t you come in a cool off.”

Joel has a point, even though it’s mid-afternoon now, the heat is still just as strong as it was when it was midday, so you drag yourself as carefully as you can manage off the lounger and plop yourself down on the side of the pool, dipping your legs in as Joel swims over. You expect him to stop, but he doesn’t, just puts his big palms on your upper thighs and spreads your legs wide, settling himself between them. You lean back, palms against the warm stone behind you, and push your sunglasses onto your head so he can see your eyes.

“Finally gonna make your move, huh?” You ask, eyebrow raised.

“Somethin’ like that.”

His palms are dragging up your thighs, resting on the band of your bikini bottoms, looking up at you like he’s waiting for permission, which you gladly give with a nod of your head. His fingers are hooking into the waistband and dragging down, you lift your hips to make it easier for him, and watch as he steps back in the water to drag them down your legs, leaving them forgotten on the side of the pool as he spreads your thighs wide. You’re not even think about the neighbours on the other side as you watch him, eyes focused on your bare cunt in front of him.

“Like what you see, Miller?” You ask, with a smirk, reaching your hand down your body, using two fingers to gently spread your folds in front of his face, dragging one up the length of your pussy to play with your clit.

You swear he growls at you, big hand gripping your wrist to drag your hand away from your core. He steps back between your thighs and uses the hand not gripping your wrist to push you back a little. Then his mouth is pressing hot kisses to your thighs, working up and across your tummy, back down the other side until you’re squirming and ready to beg.

You can feel the back of his knuckles drag up and down the folds of your cunt, “You gonna be wet if I touch you?” He asks, tone low.

“Why don’t you find out.”

So he does, using a single finger to dip between your folds, dragging down gently until he’s pressing it into your cunt, easy because you are in fact already dripping for him. You feel him work his finger in and out of you, before he’s adding a second and curling them up inside you at just the right angle to have your head tipping back and a moan dropping from your mouth.

“Gotta be quiet, Darlin’,” Joel speaks, “Do you want next door knowin’ what you’re up to?”

You’re about to come back with some smart retort when he leans forward and uses the tip of his tongue to flick gently against your clit, making it all the more harder to keep your moans at bay. Joel continues the light flick of his tongue against you whilst his fingers more in and out of your cunt, until he switches things up and wraps his lips around your clit, suckling it into his mouth whilst his fingers remain buried deep inside you, curling up in a ‘come hither’ motion to caress that perfect spot inside you.

Your hands fly to his hair, tangling deep in his chocolate curls, keeping his face flush to where he’s working you towards the edge.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Joel,” You breathe out, “Don’t stop, please, I’m gonna come.”

At your words, he doubles down, moving his fingers faster inside of you, sucking at your clit with more vigour. He pushes you over the edge easily, easier than anyone ever has before, legs shaking, skin alight, a silent scream sent forth to the sky as his mouth works you through it. Your body feels like jelly when he finally pulls away from you, but there’s enough energy left through your body that you can pull your legs from the water and get up onto your knees.

“Get out of the water, cowboy,” You murmur, bending down to press your lips to Joel’s, tasting yourself on his mouth, “I wanna fuck.”

You push yourself back from him, shuffling back to let him pull himself out of the water. His swim shorts are wet, rivulets of water dripping into pools at his feet, but all your eyes can really focus on is the outline of his cock through his wet shorts. He’s hard and from what you can tell, he’s big. It makes your mouth water, makes you want to wrap your lips around it, but it seems like he has other ideas for you. He’s dragging you up from your knees, walking you over to the low patio chairs, where he sits himself down on one and promptly drags you onto his lap, your thighs wide as they straddle him in the chair.

Your naked pussy is dragging against the wet bulge of his jeans, his hands moving your hips as you lean down again to kiss him, the endless flirting and build up over the last few weeks finally coming to a head as you let your tongue run against his, his hands lifting your hips a little so he can reach between the two of you to pull his shorts down just enough to free his cock.

You can feel the thick line of him running through your folds, wide head of his cock brushing against your clit as he moves, making you moan into his mouth just as he pulls away.

“You wanna sit on it?” He asks lowly, hands moving back to grip your bare ass, spreading you wide.

“I do.”

“Go on then, darlin’,” He speaks, “Show me what you’re made of.”

He helps raise your hips, letting you reach between the two of you to grip his cock, lining him up with your seeping entrance, sinking down just enough to let the tip of his cock notch into you. You lean your forehead against his, both damp with sweat, and revel in the fact that his mouth drops open in a sigh of pleasure just at the same time as yours does. You ease yourself down onto his cock a little more, letting the slight burn and stretch of him easing in, inch by inch, set your skin aflame.

You still once you’ve sunk down fully onto him, letting yourself get used to his length nestled inside you. You feel your cunt fluttering around him, and you know he can feel it too, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip when you start lifting yourself off him and sink back down.

“Shit, baby,” He breathes, leaning up to catch your mouth with his briefly, “You’re so fuckin’ tight.”

He makes you smile when he says things like that, it makes you bold, makes you lift up on him, almost all the way, and then sink back down, but harder and faster than before. As you move, Joel lets go of his grip on your ass and brings them to your bikini top, slipping the straps down, then pulling the material over your tits. He leans down, sucking a nipple into his mouth, rolling his tongue against it until it’s a stiff peak, switching sides to give the same attention to the other.

Once he’s given enough attention to your tits, he takes your hips in his hands, guiding your movements from bouncing to grinding, his cock sitting right within the depths of you as you move backwards and forwards on him. Joel brings a hand between you, using his thumb to draw rough circles over your clit.

“I need to feel you,” He breathes against your skin, “Need to feel you come on my cock.”

“Just…” You breathe right back, “Don’t stop, keep doing that, I’m right there.”

Joel leans up, mouth hot against the skin of your neck as he starts to suck at your skin, tip of his cock brushing just perfectly against that spot inside you as the familiar feeling at your spine builds and builds until it’s crashing over you. You bury your head in his neck, damp with sweat and the remnants of pool water, letting out the quietest moan you can manage as your pussy pulls tight around his length and you feel yourself gush against him, his thumb continuing to work you through the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“You gotta tell me where,” He mutters urgently, “I’m close baby, where do you want me.”

“Inside,” You beg against his skin, realising it was muffled, you turn your head and speak again, “Inside me Joel, please.”

It only takes a few more deep grinds of your hips before he’s gripping your hips tight to keep you still, spilling inside you, warmth spreading through your cunt and as groans your name quietly, so as not to alert the neighbours as to what they just missed in your backyard.

He pulls you close, arms wrapping around your lower back, both of you catching your breath for a moment. You press a kiss to his chest, nuzzling your face into his warm skin as his softening cock slips from your tight heats. You can feel the trickle of his cum down your inner thigh, but make no effort to move, enjoying the feeling of his arms around you.

“Same time tomorrow?” You mumble against his skin.

“Same time tomorrow, baby.”

[katanra]

Study Home Office (New York)

[eagleflieswiththedove]

Pool Lap in Miami

[mazikeenhyde]

Oh Baby, Pain is Pleasure - Part 3

POLY JUDGMENT DAY X READER (WRESTLER) 

Y/W/N – Your Wrestling Name 

Y/W/N/F – Your Wrestling Name Finisher

WARNING – THESE WARNINGS COVER ALL PARTS OF THIS FICTION- THEY MAY NOT BE SPECIFIC TO THIS PARTICULAR PART!- 

SMUT,  GIRL X GIRL, MAN X MAN, POLY RELATIONSHIPS/SEXUAL, BDSM, BLOOD, SPANKING, VIOLENT REFRENCES, INJURY, ABUSE (CONSENTUAL) CHEATING, STALKERS/ STALKING

I’m going to apologize to you all now, and prewarn you in advance, this is an absolute rollercoaster of a storyline! Shits about to get REAL messy! 

TAG LIST - @babybatlover

Oh Baby…Pain is Pleasure – Part 3

Late afternoon had seen the sun burn the remainder of the clouds from the sky, leaving a beautiful blue horizon view from across the backyard. Flocks of birds gathered as they headed over the break line, waving in and out of the smoke coming from our BBQ pit. 

I sat, gently rocking my feet back and forth on the chair egg swing we had attached to one of the older grand oak trees in our yard. It was all I had wanted when we moved in, somewhere calm and content where I could just exist. Enjoy my time, enjoy my life, and admire the world around me. Ponder life’s big questions… 

‘LOCKER WITNESSES’ 

I re read that message repeatedly in my mind, who was it from? witnessed what? 

I had deleted the other text from my phone, I wasn’t going down that road. 

The sounds of two men’s deep voices bought me back, looking over to my lovers I could see Finn & Damien adorned in their matching ‘TOP CHEF’ aprons and cooking utensils with a beer in hand, either chatting away or debating about how best to cook the chicken. 

Whilst further down on the sun loungers, Rhea had stripped down to one of her thin black bikinis with the metal skull clip fastenings, she was catching the last of the sunrays to her already perfect Sunkissed skin.  Christ, how did I get so lucky as to be a part of this incredible love…. Pentagon? It’s a five-way love triangle, let’s leave it at that.

When we had been initially searching for a house to buy, one to really call home that is; we had all had something in mind we desperately wanted as a feature. We knew it needed to be a big house, one with a master bedroom where we could assemble out two King size beds that had been custom made to attach in the middle, I cannot begin to tell you how comfortable and comforting it is being held close and safe by the four people you love more than anything in the world. 

The guilt though…

Still, obviously Rhea & Finn were dead set on having a large garage/ open internal space to set up the home gym. Of course, whilst on the road we still used a lot of public gyms and one-off hotel workout rooms here and there, but when we are at home, in each other’s company, away from the world, the fans, all that attention. It is so lovely knowing we don’t have to leave our little safe haven.

Damian had specifically made it clear he wanted a huge kitchen, open planned that backed into a dinning area. When we moved in, he had taken the time to build up a barista style coffee corner and a breakfast station on the central island. Then with Finn’s help, they worked on a D.I.Y project together to design and create a full bar set up next to the table and chairs where we ate. They had eventually given in and allowed Dom to help with the painting of the bar, because he wanted to be a ‘DIY Man’ too. 

The boys always referred to it as the lad’s corner, a custom-built wooden bar that was painted a deep tranquil green and black with illuminated LED letters on the wall; ‘ALL RISE, ALL DRINK’.   That however did not stop Rhea and I from emptying some of those back bar bottles on one of many messy nights! For some reason, whenever Rhea breaks out the Tequila, we always end up playing strip twister… Odd. 

Dominick, of course… wanted a gaming room. Not just any gaming room mind you, a ‘Mens” gaming room. 

*Sigh* 

Problem is he is just so adorable at times, and we all give in, he had been granted his request of course! Although Priest put his foot down when Dom had asked for an indoor arcade style basketball hoop game, he was allowed a hoop outside but that was it. We had all seen enough broken windows during the season when Finn had tried to teach Damien and Dominick how to play golf. 

It still makes me laugh when the boys talk about how they would feel guilty that they were off spending time together, while Rhea and I would miss out? Ha. Little did they know when they buggered off to do ‘man’s stuff’ we girls would high tail it upstairs to the family bathroom and strip off into the bathtub for some… girl’s time. *Wink Wink* 

I remember one morning; Rhea and I were standing in the arched doorway at the crack of dawn waving the boys off as they set out on an early start to play a full days Golf. Leaning into her chest I rubbed the sleepiness from my eyes as she bent her head down and nuzzled her lips into the crook of my neck. 

“I tell you now Y/N, I would rather run the risk of drowning when we get in that bathtub, and I bury my face deep in your pussy… then stand in a damp field hitting a stick at a ball.” Her teeth nipped at the skin of my ear lobe and my entire body melted at her touch. 

Christ the things that woman does to me. 

A loud crash had bought me back to reality, Dom had been trying to carry a tray of drinks out to the garden for us all but had tripped over some excess weigh plates we had left outside, sending the poor lad flying arse over tit. 

“Shit! God damn it, ow fuck!” Dom pulled himself up to his knees, swiping the drinks tray away in frustration before noticing blood trickling down his arm from the glasses that he had smashed across the decking. He was quick to freeze, unable to process what to do next or how to stand up safely. 

Rhea was quick to make her way over to him from the sun lounger, followed by Damian who handed Finn his spatula and beer before rushing over to help the poor lad. 

I know, I know I should have been focused on the fact that the boy I loved so much needed some help, some TLC, compassion, and support… 

But I am only human. 

And Rhea Bloody Ripley…. 

Running….

In a mini black laced bikini…

Slightly wet from the heat of the sun touching her skin, God how she glistened. How she got my motor running and…

Finn had noticed my distraction and whistled loudly, gathering my attention. 

“Aye! Lass, enough of that! Go... Take a lap!” He gestured, pointing to the end of the field in our garden. The yard stretched about 1/4 of a mile down and was cut off by the woodland. One of my favorite things about this house was the nature that came with it. It all felt so…natural and back down to earth compared to the chaos and mayhem at WWE. 

Pointing his BBQ tongs and Damian’s spatula at me, Finn raised his eyebrow. 

“No distractions, ya hear!” 

I tried not to laugh at his remark, turning my face away to hide my snicker and rolling my eyes. I was still wearing my gym gear from before; except I had nabbed one of Dominick’s merch shirts on the way to the garden from the drying rack, I was self-conscious about my stomach, and I liked to hide my body where I could. 

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?!” Finn sternly questioned me as he put the utensils down. 

At this point Rhea was taking Dom inside through the double doors, whilst Damian stood back up and turned in my direction. 

Fuck… they are hot when they get all dominant. 

“Mi Vida, did you roll your eyes?” Damian’s words were colder, flat, and prominent. I could tell he was almost looking for a reason to get me upstairs into the bedroom. Christ I was half tempted to give him a solid reason. 

Put me across your lap Papa Priest, let me feel the strength between your thighs and lay it into me Goddamn it! 

The devil on my shoulder sang its heart out at the idea, but I remembered earlier when Finn has spun the actions back against me. Leaving me alone and sexually frustrated I thought better of the situation. 

“Me? I would never…” I said quite obnoxious/sarcastically and smiled that cheeky brat look at them before hopping up off the tree swing. I could see Damian trying not to break or give in… but a slight smirk crept into the corner of his lips.  

“I’m going to take a lap!” I stated and grinned before making a run for it, heading down and out of sight from the lads. I had a much better plan in mind to deal with my frustrations when I got in the shower later anyway. 

I was out of breath by the time I got back towards our street, less than a ¼ mile to go! I had decided to go for a proper run to clear my mind. A good few miles should do the trick, that’s what Rhea always said! With my headphones in and a decent playlist on, nothing was going to stop me! 

One foot after another I pressed on, sweat dripping down my neck I desperately tried to Shake off all that nervous energy I had built up now that WrestleMania was less than 2 weeks away. I had been on edge at times, and it showed when I trained in the ring with Rhea and Dom. Running back-to-back moves, counters, pins, and submissions, it was like every time I thought I had learnt it someone would come along and wipe my slate clean, and I knew nothing again. 

Maybe I wasn’t ready to be a champion? 

Maybe I was out of my depth? 

Rhea should be in this match not me. 

Me? Y/W/N? Was I really cut out to be a champion? 

I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket as I continued running. I tried looking at my smart watch as I ran, though it was tricky to focus on a smaller screen. 

I could see a couple messages from Finn stating the food was ready, one from Damian also telling me the food was ready, one from Dom telling me he was going to eat my hot dog if I didn’t hurry up and one from Rhea telling me she wasn’t going to let Dom touch my food. 

Honestly this lot, I love them so much. 

Turning into our street I could see our house gate entrance just up the hill, with a little spring in my step I pushed on feeling like I was picking up speed. I felt energized, I felt incredible, maybe I could do this after all! 

With the gate just in reach and the sweet smokey smell of the BBQ lingering in the air I put my head down to push those least few feet… 

But within a split second I felt something behind me. 

The music cut out as my headphones were launched to the floor and my arms locked in tight by a strength I hadn’t ever had to match. Kicking my legs out I felt them rise off the floor and before I could even fathom the mental capacity to make a sound the feeling of sticky back plastic tape suckered its way in across my lips. My eyes pooled up as the bag went over my head and my vision became darkness. A hard and cold metal floor was met with my body weight as I was hurled inside, my heart beating out of my chest the fear became all too real as I felt the ground under move away at speed. 

A hot breath came down my neck, raising every last hair on my skin to react. The voice was muffled, as if speaking through a mask. 

“You did this Y/N…” 

“You did this… and now you cannot handle the monster you created.” 

The silence in between each word was deafening, but it was the next voice that bought the fear of God into my soul. 

“ Told you I’d find you...miss me?” 

TO BE CONTINUED

[tkaulitzlvr]

hii, hope you’re doing well :) love your stories <3

ofc you absolutely don’t have to write this one if you don’t want to!

just had a lil thought of some form of enemies to lovers with tom (2009-11) where reader travels with the band on tour & etc & one night while they stay at a hotel somewhere reader is in the pool at night (in like a bikini or some form of swimwear) for like a midnight swim but at some point tom gets in as-well & it’s just them (they can have some bickering or whatever) but it would eventually result in them doing it in the pool 🤭

again you don’t have to do this one if you don’t want to buy i just thought i would ask :)

ty for reading!!

LATE NIGHT - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: you and tom had never got on well, some unresolved tension meaning the two of you always clashed. so, when you decide to go for a late night swim alone, what will happen when tom has the exact same idea?

content: angst & smut

a/n: omggg this might be my fav request i’ve ever gotten so thank u sm anon, literally screamed when it came thru this whole scenario is so perfect, as u can imagine i enjoyed every second of writing this, hope u enjoy!!

the night is warm, this totally expected for august in southern spain, where tokio hotel were for this part of their world tour. adjusting to the different climates that i experience around the world is something i am yet to get used to, even after coming with the band since they had started accumulating the fans to warrant travelling from country to country to perform. one day, i would be in somewhere in russia, completely submerged in blankets and still cold, then the next, i would be met with the sweltering warmth of southern europe, overheating despite my clear lack of clothing, only my bra and panties covering me. but tonight, the heat was unbearable, my body sweating no matter what position i tried to fall asleep in.

the rhythmic ticking of the small clock situated on the wall in front of me didn’t help - the sound seeming to get louder each time, the time that it displays reminding me that i should be sleeping. but, i know that it isn’t going to happen anytime soon, sitting up frustratedly with a loud sigh.

i stand up, walking toward the large glass doors leading to my balcony, pushing one open slightly so that i can squeeze through. it is even hotter outside, my body being hit by an intense surge of heat as i step onto the balcony, nearing the edge. my arms rest on the railing, eyes taking in the view in front of me - thousands of lights in each direction from the city ahead. however this doesn’t catch my attention as my eyes fall to the large pool below, a decent sized jacuzzi built into it. it is empty, the body of water completely still, small lights around it’s exterior giving away its tranquility. it could cool me down - there’s no way i’m falling asleep with my body this hot.

my feet turn on their heels, stepping back inside my room, closing the glass door behind me as i head to the small walk in closet in the corner. my hands fumble around, fingers finally touching the small bikini that i am looking for. i take it out, stripping from my clothes, before slipping on the skimpy red bikini, tying my hair in a loose bun. i take a towel from the bathroom, sliding on the first pair of sandals i see, before quietly exiting my hotel room and walking to the elevator, entering it as it is expectedly empty.

the elevator doors slide open as i am met with the empty lobby, the receptionist being the only person in sight. i give her a small nod, walking outside to the pool area. as i near closer, i sigh in relief, seeing that it is still empty, placing my towel on a random lounger. i slide my shoes off beside it, walking towards the pool. testing the temperature, i dip my toes in, shivering slightly at the coldness, the feeling relieving me as i already feel myself cool down. deciding that it is fine to get in, i allow my whole body to slip into the water, my head staying above as i begin to swim over to the shallow end, finally stopping once i reach the edge.

my eyes glance over to the jacuzzi just a few metres away, contemplating whether it would be a better option than the pool. it would certainly make me sleepier, and, reminding myself of how late it is, i decide to get in, quickly stepping out of the pool and climbing into the jacuzzi. the water is much warmer, bubbles emerging from beneath as i take a seat, my entire body relaxing. i feel myself becoming tired as i spread out, laying my head backwards and resting it on the edge. my eyes gaze aimlessly at the stars above, feeling completely content, the water removing any tension in my body as i continue to watch the sky.

but, it only takes a few minutes for my head to whip upwards, becoming quickly alert as i hear footsteps nearing the pool, wondering who else would want to be here this late into the night.

i squint a little, trying to make out the silhouette , an audible groan escaping my lips once it enters the light, letting me work out who it is. broad shoulders, slim yet muscular frame, lips adorned with a single metal piercing - i could recognise him from anywhere. the familiar jet black braids move toward me, a confused expression taking over his face once he spots me.

“the fuck are you doing here?” he asks, setting his towel down and pulling his t-shirt off, revealing his perfectly formed abs, muscles in his biceps flexing as he does so. he was hot, but i hated him, his attractiveness only making me despise him more. after my gaze lingers on his torso for a couple seconds, i look upwards, seeing that he is still focused on me, waiting for a response as he walks towards the jacuzzi.

i roll my eyes, beginning to get up, not willing to engage in any conversation with him right now, especially one in which no one else is involved, the atmosphere already tense.

“doesn’t matter. i’ll go.” i say, standing up, water dripping from my body. his eyes scan my figure, tongue poking from his lips slightly as he messes with his lip piercing, drinking in every curve, my boobs admittedly almost spilling out of my bikini top. yet i didn’t care when i had put it on, not expecting to see anyone else at the pool, let alone tom. his eyes still glued to my cleavage, i scoff, putting one foot out of the jacuzzi.

“my eyes are up here, perv.” i remark as he finally removes his gaze from my chest, a small laugh leaving his lips.

“don’t flatter yourself sweetheart.” he states, stepping into the jacuzzi, sitting down as the water covers most of his body, the top of his chest still on show. he stretches his arms out to the side of him, resting them on the edge, tilting his head to the side before continuing. “why are you leaving?”

“cause i know you’ll piss me off. you already are.” i respond, standing beside the water, preparing to walk away.

“really? don’t be so dramatic. get in.” he says, lifting one hand up and motioning to the empty space in the jacuzzi opposite him, his eyes not leaving mine.

“i’ll pass. have fun tom.” i say sarcastically, finding my towel on the lounger, wrapping it around my small frame, now shivering from the lack of warmth the water had brought me.

“you know, to say you’re the most stubborn person i know.” he starts, his tongue running across his bottom lip. “you’re leaving pretty fast. how come you’re letting me win so easily?”

i stop in my tracks, turning around to face him, wondering why he is so eager for me to stay.

“why do you care?” i question, my expression turning sour.

“i don’t.” he shrugs. “just don’t understand why you’re in a rush to leave. you’re not scared of me, are you?”

i scoff at his question, noting the way he is trying to get under my skin, and, much to my frustration, it is working. i know that if i leave, that means i have let him win. and, he is right. i am stubborn. it is this fact that prompts me to turn around, throwing the towel off of my body as i walk towards the jacuzzi, hesitantly getting back into it as a satisfied grin spreads across tom’s face.

“scared my ass.” i mutter, shaking my head as i fold my arms, irritated by his ability to anger me from the smallest of words.

“hm? sorry, didn’t catch that. you gotta speak up.” he taunts, tilting his head as he raises his eyebrows, a knowing smirk tugging on his lips. he stretches his arms out further as they rest against the stone decorating the edge of the water, adjusting his position and getting comfy, awaiting my response.

“just shut up. jesus fucking christ.” i scold, facing away from him, tempted to get up and leave once again. but i can’t give him that satisfaction, so i stay put, a tense silence between us as he surprisingly listens to me.

my body jolts upwards in shock, feeling his foot brush against mine from underneath the water as he sinks further into it. i make eye contact, scowling at him as he holds his hands up in defense.

“sorry.” he mumbles, his body slowly drifting closer towards mine. i ignore it, letting my head fall backwards, attempting to relax, figuring that if i am stuck here with him, i may as well try to make the experience as comfortable as it can be.

but the second his leg brushes against mine, with too much force to be unintentional, it is clear that his previous movement was definitely not an accident. i look at him, seeing that he has moved much closer, now to the left of me, instead of directly opposite me as he previously was. i stay quiet, trying to pay no attention to his presence despite the noticeable feeling of his eyes burning into my figure.

“red looks good on you.” he says into the silence, my eyebrows furrowing in disbelief, unable to fall for his attempt at complimenting me.

“what?” i ask, now turning to face him, his eyes dark.

“you know what i said.” he states confidently, gaze never leaving mine as his teeth momentarily sink into his bottom lip.

his body inches closer to mine as my own is frozen in place, unable to move or even comprehend what is happening. his finger grazes the knot of my costume from beneath the water, slipping underneath the material briefly before playing with the hem of my bikini bottoms, my hips jolting a little at his touch. he smirks at my reaction, removing his fingers and watching the way my face drops, partly in disappointment.

he sees the desperation in my eyes, dipping his head downwards so that his lips are just below my ear.

“you know you don’t hate me at much as you let out.” he whispers, his breath tickling my neck as i feel him smile against it, goosebumps beginning to form over the skin.

my mouth parts open, no sound escaping from it as my chest rises and falls at a faster pace, completely flustered by his words. he can clearly see this, humming lowly as his face remains inches away from my neck, his slow breathing fanning over it.

“in fact…” he begins, his lips brushing over the skin as he dips his head further downwards. “i don’t think you hate me at all, do you?”

i say nothing, breath hitching once his lips finally make contact with my neck, planting slow, open-mouthed kisses over it. my hands find the back of his head, fingers playing with his dreads as i push him further into me, his kisses become sloppy, his teeth grazing over the skin.

“knew you always had something for me, sweetheart.” he teases, hands grabbing the flesh of my thighs as he uses them to guide my body, placing me on his lap. my chest is now out of the water, lower half completely submerged as it sits on top of him, faces inches apart.

he takes my lack of response as an invitation to continue, attaching his lips to mine in a rough and sloppy kiss. i waste no time in kissing back, overcome with an unforeseen desperation, my hatred for him fuelling desire from within me that had never been ignited - not like this. but i used my anger towards him, keeping it as a motive to kiss him harder, pressing my lips harsher into his. he groans into my mouth, his hands finding my ass as he kneads the flesh, using it to push my hips against his, my lips faltering against him.

the heat around me from the warmth of the night is now nothing compared to the one spreading between my legs, my need for tom only growing as i begin to create my own slow rhythm on his lap, grinding so that his clothed dick, which i can feel hardening beneath me, hits my clit perfectly.

my head falls backwards, unable to kiss back as my hips continue to work against his. his lips find my chest, biting and sucking on the parts of my breasts exposed, my nipples hardening under the fabric of my bikini. he sees this, his fingers running over them as i shudder. his hands reach to undo the knot holding my bikini in place, about to tug on it before i protest.

“you can’t…” i breathe out, not slowing my movements. “someone could see.”

“but they won’t.” he states, keeping his head against my chest, hands staying on my back. “you just have to stay close to me, yeah?”

he tugs on the material, watching as the top half of my bikini falls off, revealing my chest to him. a smirk spreads across his face as he takes it all in, hands cupping my boobs as he squeezes them a little, a low whine falling from my lips in response.

“so fucking hot.” he breathes out, detaching his hands from my breasts, moving them to my back and pulling my chest so it is flush against his. “see? no one but me gets to see. exactly how it should be.”

he whispers the last part as i roll my eyes, becoming visibly impatient. he picks up on this, bucking his hips as i rest my hands on his chest, lifting myself off of him as he takes off his trunks, letting them rest at his knees, not bothering to remove them fully. he moves my panties to the side, the water rushing to my heat as i shudder a little.

he strokes himself a few times, positioning himself at my entrance. “you sure?”

his hands rest on my lower back, looking upwards at me, his expression strangely concerned, my consent mattering to him way more than i had first anticipated. i nod my head, letting out a confident ‘yes’.

that is enough for him as he slowly pushes inside of me, the water giving a foreign feeling as my thighs clench. he lets out a long groan, watching the way my mouth falls open, eyes screwing shut. i feel his tip bottom out inside of me, my walls stretched out further than they ever had been, none of the guys that i had been with being as big as tom. though the discomfort soon subsides, my face twisting in pressure as i nod slowly, giving him the green light as he begins to thrust upwards into me at a steady pace.

“where did the stubbornness go, hm?” he teases, knowing that my entire body is there for him to ruin, long past the point when i would argue with him. “thought i pissed you off, doesn’t look like it right now.”

i let out a loud moan, that the only sound i am able to make as he is hitting angles that have never been felt before, no one ever able to make me feel like this. hell, if i had known his dick was this good, i would’ve stopped hating him years ago. his tip brushes against my sensitive spot, my walls clenching around him as i squeeze my lips shut, trying to stay quiet as i silently remind myself of where we are - anyone able to catch us right now.

“you like that, huh?” he asks, repeatedly hitting the spot over and over as i bury my face into his shoulder, biting it roughly to keep the moans at bay, feeling them dangerously close in the back of my throat. “don’t hide those pretty moans, wanna hear them baby.”

his hands push me away from his shoulder, my head now upright as i can no longer contain my moans, letting them pour from my lips, tom nodding his head slowly.

desperate to reach my climax, i meet his thrusts, hips rotating in an attempt to increase the friction. this clearly has as much of an effect on tom as it does me, his head tilting backwards as he lets out a low groan.

“just like that baby. fuck- yeah, keep going.” he praises, this only fuelling my stamina, his thrusts becoming slow and weak as he lets me do most of the work.

the knot in my stomach tightens, so much that i know i cannot hold on any longer. tom’s hands squeeze my waist, fingers and nails digging in, the slight pain mixed with pleasure turning me on even more.

“getting close.” i manage to say, bringing my lips to messily collide with his, my movements sloppy and uneven. he kisses back, groaning into my mouth as he slips his tongue in. he starts thrusting upwards at a rapid pace, my ability to kiss back faltering as i feel him twitch inside of me.

“me too. cum with me, yeah?” he says against my lips, one harsh thrust into me all it takes for me to come undone, feeling him shoot his load into me. he moves in and out slowly, fucking it into me, his teeth firmly sinking into his lip as his eyebrows knit together. i collapse into his chest, breathing fast and shallow as my entire body shakes, his thrusts coming to a stop, yet he remains inside of me. his lips lazily kiss my shoulder, hands rubbing my back.

“why didn’t we do that sooner, hm?”

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

[chanshoesunite]

Chan on the Beach

Content Info: Chan and Y/N meet on a beach in Australia at Christmas and have some fun. This is an edit of Hare's bday fic for Tortoise. No beta we die like Y/N's resistance against lifeguard Chan.

Word count: around 6K

Warnings: semi-public sex, dirty talk

„Aaaah, this is the life!”

You reach over to grab your Virgin Lavender Mojito off the little table next to your lounger. Taking a sip through your plastic-free straw, you let your gaze, well-protected behind your heart-shaped shades, wander across the bay. From your position high up next to the rooftop pool of the renowned “Park Hyatt Sydney”, you can see the world-famous opera house.

“I know, right?” Your best friend Hare is next to you, holding a flashy pink cocktail. “Bless this job!”

As a pilot, Hare is allowed to bring someone along whenever she needs to fly over one of the major holidays, and since it’s Christmas in Austria right now and you’ll only fly back on the 28th, she chose her best friend to keep her company in her five-star hotel. There really are worse fates.

You stand to let your gaze properly explore the vicinity. “Do you fancy going to the beach?” you ask, spying the almost glisteningly white sand in the distance.

Hare raises an eyebrow at you, which you only realise because now it appears behind her sunglasses. “And getting eaten by a shark? Is this your idea of a good time?”

You giggle. “Oh, come on, there are safety nets. And anyway, I was thinking we could do one of those fun videos where you throw sand and I twirl in it? You know, for the Gram?”

Hare looks like she has half a mind to protest, might find this not worth the hassle, but then her smile softens. “Sure,” she says. “Let me check with the hotel staff to find the best beach access for us.”

…

An hour later, you are in your gloriously colourful bikini, twirling barefoot in the sand even though it’s too hot for comfort – not that you would give that away and ruin your Instagram reel, though. Hare is holding your phone, trying to get the perfect angle to have the sun glistening in a golden hour-way on the water.

“And now the sand,” you prompt. “You kinda just let it fly in the breeze, so it looks nice behind me.”

Hare looks dubious for a second. “What if I mess up and hit someone else?” You wave it off. “There’s nobody around!”

It’s true enough – it’s around dinner time, and your stretch of the beach is, possibly due to the holiday, rather empty. Hare nods. “Okay, sure.” She bends down to grab some of the white sand and repositions herself to throw it into the air. You twirl, and from the way Hare’s lips widen into a grin, you can tell it’s a great shot. You can already imagine how amazing you’ll look and how many likes you’ll get, maybe you should cross-post it on TikTok and-

“Oi!”

Both of you turn to see someone standing there. And what a someone. Well, two someones, actually, but your eyes are glued to Someone Number One. He isn’t exactly tall, but well built, his black swimming shorts showing off his narrow hips and creating a marvellous contrast to his thoroughly-trained upper body. He has a sharp jawline that you would like him to use to cut you into chips, a big nose, well-formed cheek bones and beautiful eyes that are, admittedly, currently glaring at you. “What’s that all about?”

One glance at his wet upper body, which is now covered in sand, tells the entirety of what happened – that he is the unwilling participator in an Instagram challenge gone just a little wrong.

Hare gets her bearings faster, but from the way she eyes the taller, lithe man next to the buff grumpy guy, you assume that in order to get into her head, you would have to pass an 18+ ID check. “Sorry, we didn’t see you there and meant absolutely no harm!” She extends one of their towels to the taller guy who looks a little like a Korean forest fairy. “Here, please.”

The guy accepts the towel from her, cleaning his (for his build) substantial abs. You tear your gaze away and meet the buff dude’s eyes, who sarcastically pulls up one eyebrow. For a second, you don’t know what to do.

“Oh!” You realise he’s expecting you to also offer him a towel, so you do. At the way you briefly flounder around, your nemesis’ face softens, and a little smile plays on his face. It’s a good look on him, you decide. “Cheers”, he thanks you, cleaning himself up. “What were you even doing there, throwing sand?” he asks, somewhat curious and content now that the sand isn’t on his pecs but your expensive hotel towel. His voice is still a little gruff, a little dark, a little deep, his Australian accent making it all the more delicious.

Hare, the ever-trusting girl that she is, extends her phone to him. “I was filming a slow-mo reel. It looks absolutely gorgeous if you ask me. Sorry again, but it was kind of worth hitting you with sand for it.”

The two men watch the reel and you can feel your face heating up. You haven’t even seen it yourself yet, and now those two handsome dudes get to do so before you?! You should be mad at Hare, but from the way buff guy’s face softens watching it, you really, really can’t.

Handing her phone back to Hare, the guy looks at you. “You’re beautiful in this,” he says, a little sparkle in his dark eyes. “If I can follow you on Instagram, you’re forgiven.”

Ummmmmm. That’s a statement you haven’t anticipated. You gulp a bit. “Okay,” you agree, and accept the phone back from Hare to open the app for him. Your hand brushes his as you hand it over, and the back of your neck prickles. At the touch, his eyes find yours, and he smirks just the tiniest bit before focusing on the device to type in his Instagram handle. You feel a little lost for words, so you look over at Hare, who confidently winks at you. “Maybe we can buy you two a drink in order to make up for the, er, Sand Incident?”

The other boy chuckles. You take a moment to look at him more carefully and appreciate his fine features, his longer hair tied back in a ponytail. He is beautiful, no doubt about it, but you prefer his shorter friend. “That’s a lovely offer, but we’re actually headed to a party later.” Ponytail glances at the Short King. “But actually…?”

The Short King has finished typing his name. “Yeah, how about you come along?” he finishes the sentence. “I’m Chan,” he adds as he hands back the phone, “but lots of people call me Chris.” Chan nods at the phone and you glance at the handle. “Chanstopher97”. Oh, he’s younger, too. Hot. You accept his following request.

“And I’m Hyunjin.” The other boy smiles at Hare in a way that shows you he seems just as taken with your friend as her body language suggests she is with him. Nice.

“I’m Y/N,” you take charge of the conversation now, and there is a laugh dancing in Chan’s eyes. “And that’s Hare. And about our evening plans…” You look over at Hare, hoping to telepathically communicate that you’re not ready to make this impromptu decision without talking it through with her first.

Hare smiles. “We have dinner plans, but why don’t you text Y/N the address and we’ll see if we can meet you there?” You two share a look and you feel seen and comforted. Hare is keeping your options open but not consenting or refusing in your name.

There is slight disappointment in the two men’s faces, but that’s their issue. “All right,” Chan agrees, running a hand through his darkly wet hair and you are mesmerised by the way the muscles flex on his arms. “I’ll text you in a bit.” He smiles at you. “I really hope to see you there. It’s at the beach, but it does get cool at night, so make sure to bring a hoodie.” He pauses strategically. “Or you can always wear mine.”

You bite your lip to suppress a giddy grin, and his eyes follow the movement. There is an almost hungry quality in his gaze before it flickers back up to again. “See you later.” The confidence he lays into these three words is astounding but very attractive.

Hyunjin smiles sweetly at Hare, which she reciprocates, and then the two men make their way up the beach, in such a manner that the two of you can appreciate their backsides. When they turn around, you feel caught, and the slight blush on Hare’s face betrays the fact that she is experiencing the same emotion. As if in unspoken agreement, you both turn around and sink down in the sand, onto your respective towels that are already dirty anyway.

You are quiet for a moment. Then- “Well, damn,” Hare says.

“Damn,” you agree.

“He’s really hot.”

“I know. Mine too.”

“There’s one for each of us.”

“Yeah.”

Hare glances over at you. “How do you feel about a beach party on Christmas Day in Australia?”

You watch the setting sun glittering on the waves. How do you feel about this? On the one hand, many strangers in one place, mixed with alcohol, are never on top of your list when it comes to a desired evening programme. On the other hand, the party doesn’t have to be where they stay, does it? And Chan, Chris… He is really something. If he were lavender lemonade, you’d sip him. Hehe. Also, as a pilot, Hare has to stay sober, so there will be at least one reasonable person around – or, knowing your besty, at least a sober one.

“I think,” you say slowly. “Theoretically, if we didn’t like it, we could go home at any time. And we can share our location in case we lose each other.”

A slow smile spreads across Hare’s face, reminding you of a cartoon cat who has spotted an especially delicious baby bird. “All right,” your besty agrees. “Let’s party tonight.”

…

Chan texts the details within ten minutes of meeting you and you try not to let it get to your head. Hare and you enjoy an outstanding dinner on the hotel’s rooftop terrace, a Christmas present from the airline, and don’t let the prospect of two hot Korean men on a beach force you to hurry through the five delicious courses. Afterwards, you throw on bikinis, shorts, cute tops and pack long-sleeved items as well, just to be on the safe side. With on-fleek eyeliner and beautiful lipstick, you must surely be the hottest besty duo that has ever walked the hallways of this grand hotel, or so you think on their way downstairs to catch your Uber.

The party location seems to be a dive bar, and as you approach the hut, you are relieved to see that while there is a crowd gathered, it is not overwhelming. The last rays of sunlight are winking over the horizon as the two of you enter the bar.

The interior design is a little bit clichéd in its maritime theme, but since this is your first authentic dive bar experience, you don’t mind. You glance at the nets, the taxidermied swordfish, the life belts, take in the Jack Johnson song playing, and decide you like it. The bar is situated in the middle of the wooden building, an “o” marking the centre of the spot. And right there, behind the counter, drawing a beer, is-

“Is that Chan?” Hare asks the exact moment you realise that your crush is actually working here. Your gaze falls onto Hyunjin next to him, wiping glasses, and the women waiting to catch their attention in front of the bar. “Well,” you conclude. “It seems we’re here for the most popular boys. Damn.”

Hare grabs your hand. “That won’t stop us,” she disagrees. “After all, we are the hottest here.”

She pulls you towards the bar, and it is almost eerie how fast Chan’s head snaps up to meet your eyes. His slowly crinkle as he begins to smile. “You came!” he calls over the music and the waiting people, and some of them actually make space for Hare and you. “We came,” you confirm, propping your elbows up on the bar. “And you came to work, by the looks of it?”

Chan seems sheepish for a moment, but quickly shakes it off. “We are only doing the first shift,” he explains, “and then we’ll be all yours.” He gestures around the room. “You can check out the place or the beach if you’d like. Or hang out with us back here?” He has one hand on the door that swings inward and allows for entrance into the centre of the bar.

Hare glances at Hyunjin. “If we hang out back here, will you make us a kickass alcohol-free cocktail?”

Hyunjin smiles – he really looks good in his loose Celine racerback; you have to admit that. “My pleasure,” he says in a voice that is deeper than you remember.

Hare turns to you. “Beach or bar?” she asks.

You barely hesitate. “Bar.”

…

If someone had asked you a few months ago if spending Christmas day behind a bar sounded like fun, you probably would have refused to even consider the possibility. But this – sitting on chairs with Hare, sipping the amazingly lavender-flavoured cocktail Hyunjin created for you, watching the men work, throwing dish towels or napkins at them in jest – this is a perfectly lovely evening. There isn’t much time to chat, but just by looking at them interact with each other, their customers and their work, you get a better idea of their characters.

Chan seems to be caring, friendly, supportive, flirty, Hyunjin appears to be sweet, sassy and a little on the dramatic side. Both of them react well to the sarcastic comments Hare sometimes throws their way, teasing her back and each other. It is obvious that they are firm friends and likely have been for a long time.

“Hey, Hyunjin, your mojito game is actually pretty weak,” Hare exclaims, hopping off her barstool and joining the taller Korean man at the bar, elbowing him gently. “Why don’t I help you with that?”

Hyunjin’s gaze at her is challenging, but he hands her the bottle. “I am ready to be impressed.”

Someone snorts next to you, and you glance up to find Chan very close to you, also watching the two of them. “Hyunjin’s flirting technique need work,” he says, chuckling softly but not unkindly.

You arch an eyebrow at him. “And yours doesn’t?”

Chan turns to you, and with you propped up on your high bar chair, the two of you are eye to eye. “Well, you’re here, aren’t you?” he rasps, his voice suddenly just a tiny bit rough, his eyes intense. You feel yourself blushing but don’t look away. “I am,” you agree.

He shrugs. “Then I don’t think it does.” Chan winks at you and returns to the considerable queue in front of the bar, slapping Hyunjin on the shoulder in the process. “Stop flirting!” he barks, and from the way his friend blushes and Hare starts giggling, you can tell that you are not the only one behind this bar who is experiencing chemistry between herself and a man she met at the beach mere hours ago.

The first shift passes quickly, and as the bar fills up, you love seeing Chan get just a little bit hot, his dark t-shirt, tight to begin with, sticking to him in all the right places.

Finally, when a few of their friends come to take over, Chan throws the dish towel he has been holding down onto the bar and turns to you. “Finished!”, he exclaims happily, an almost childlike joy at having completed his task on his face. He extends his hand to you, offering you help in jumping off the chair. You take his hand, and it’s just a little rough. Does he surf? Play the guitar? You intend to find out. Relishing the moment, you wait just a tiny bit before jumping off, and Chan doesn’t let go of your hand when you’re firmly on your feet, either. You look up at him and there is something in his eyes. A dare to let go? Dream on, pretty boy, you think. I dare if you dare.

Hyunjin hands Hare two glasses – two more of the delicious mocktails, you are happy to see – and grabs two bottles of beer. “Shall we?”

The four of you leave the bar area and then the building behind, and you are thankful to be holding Chan’s hand so as to not lose him in the throng of people that seems to have been growing steadily throughout the past hour. Soon, your sandals hit the sand. There are beanbags on the beach, and miraculously, not all of them are occupied yet, possibly because the night air is just a little bit chilly already. Now you have to let go of Chan’s hand and follow the impulse to run across the now cool sand and throw yourself into an extra-large beanbag, giggling happily. Chan is not far behind, though, approaching you at a languid pace, two drinks in his hands which he has seemingly picked up from Hare and Hyunjin, watching you with a smile. When he is finally standing over you, you glancing up at him, his bravado seems somewhat diminished. “May I join you?” he asks, and when you wiggle just a little bit to the side and pat the newly gained space next to you, his smile widens again. He lets himself sink down next to you and you are overwhelmed by how much you like the smell of his shower gel, mixed with just a hint of sweat and ocean breeze. Delicious.

It takes some arranging, but the two of you are finally comfortable side by side, your drinks secured in the sand, Chan crossing his arms behind his head and gazing up into the night sky. You can hear Hare giggle behind you as, by the sound of it, Hyunjin falls off a beanbag.

The silence isn’t uncomfortable, but you still decide to break it – after all, you want to get to know this delectable specimen better. “So, is this what Christmas usually looks like for you?” you ask.

Chan glances over at you and holds your gaze. Man, you really want to sink into those eyes. “The party’s a tradition,” he explains. “We always host it.”

“We?” You sit up a tiny bit, edging just a little bit closer, and from the way his body shifts towards you, you can feel that he welcomes the change. Your bare leg brushes against his and the skin-on-skin contact makes you antsy, but in a good way. This is exciting – the two of you both know where this will lead, but the timeline is yet unknown, ready to be discovered.

Chan nods. “The lifeguards. Hyunjin and I both work at this beach.”

You process the info quickly and file it away under the category “hot”. “That’s extremely cool,” is what you say, though. “Very responsible.”

The man seems to be blushing a bit and you love how his cool behaviour falls away when he’s being himself. It’s endearing. “I am a huge ocean enthusiast. I am actually currently writing my dissertation on various measures that could be taken to effectively clean the ocean, you know, to remove all of the microplastic. I’m trying to create a filter that can be produced cheaply and applied across all water temperatures.”

Your mouth actually hangs wide open at this. “So, you’re hot AND super smart?!” you blurt out. “That hardly seems fair!”

Chan smirks at this, but there is no denying that he is flattered and cajoled. “And you haven’t even seen me bench press yet,” he jokes.

You laugh. “I’d love to, though,” you say, more serious than you mean to be.

He grins widely. “Well, if you’ll have any more of those cocktails, maybe I’ll have to carry you back later.”

It’s a joke, you both know it, but you notice the exact moment where you both think about him picking you up and maybe pinning you up against a wall. The mood shifts for a moment, it feels less playful and more explicit. The silence is heavy, almost alive with an electric current.

Chan clears his throat. “You haven’t told me yet what a beautiful publicist from overseas is doing in Australia at Christmas.”

Thankful for the distraction, you tell him about the trip, about your job, and as you sip your respective drinks, you establish a shared love for TV shows, bubble tea, colourful hair, non-spicy foods. If this were a first date, it would be absolutely amazing, but sadly, this can’t be a first date, because in less than seventy-two hours, you will be on your way back, and you are severely jetlagged, having arrived only today, and this will merely be a three-day-thing, if at all. You try not to be sad about this, but it’s hard.

Chan seems to sense your distress. “Is everything all right?” he queries, using his hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

You smile. “Yeah. I was just thinking that I’d love to not leave in three days.” This feels like way too big a confession for this casual hook-up, but somehow, simultaneously, it also feels just right.

He seems to contemplate this, then takes your hand. “Want me to show you my lifeguard hut? You can see pretty far from up there.” It’s a distraction, but it’s working, so you nod and smile at him. Chan pulls you to your feet and just as you turn to tell Hare where you're intending to go, you can see her sitting in Hyunjin’s lap, making out with him. Shrugging, you turn back to Chan – after all, you can both access each other’s locations on your phones and Hare knows how to handle a dude. “You know,” you say boldly, “This could be us.”

Chan pulls you after him, towards the lifeguard station. “Oh, don’t worry,” he says with casualness that makes you shiver in anticipation, “it will be.”

…

Chan’s workspace is actually more elaborate than you anticipated. It’s a little hut on a raised platform so he can seek shelter from the sun while watching the ocean. The bottom of the steps is sealed for the night with a chain-link fence so unauthorized or drunk people won’t be tempted to climb up, but Chan produces a key from a chain around his neck and unlocks it so you can access the platform. You go first, but he keeps his hand on your lower back, steadying you, and you have to admit you like it.

Upon arriving at the top, you are greeted by a few solar lanterns glowing in the dark, illuminating your surroundings. You are maybe four metres up above the ground, but everything – the party goers down the beach, the music, the noise – seems miles away. The only thing you can feel is the wind and Chan’s warm hand against your side, and then there is the glorious sound of the sea. The lanterns also reveal that the chair Chan must usually spend his days in is folded up against the railing, replaced by a picknick blanket and a few throw-pillows. You turn to meet his eyes, into this half-embrace he has going on, and his hand finds your lower back again, pressing you softly to his firm chest. “Did you prepare this?” you ask, raising an eyebrow at him.

Chan does have the decency to blush. “I was hoping our night would go this way, I must admit.”

Briefly, the thought that Chan must do this all the time, that this must be his move, makes an appearance, but you actually don’t really care to slut-shame the man. Good for him, he is hot and sweet AND smart, you hope that he has lots of amazing sex, but tonight, preferably with you.

You take it all in – the waves crashing against the sand, the darkness softened by the glow of the lanterns, Chan’s huge hand splayed across your lower back, his scent, his face just inches from yours. “Can I kiss you?” you ask.

Chan briefly closes his eyes before opening them. There is a tiny smile on his lips. “Please,” he whispers. And so, you slowly, anticipation rising in your gut, close the distance and softly place your lips against his. Your first thought is how soft they are as you slowly move, placing your hands against his chest, then sliding them upwards, holding his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. Chan tastes of beer and chewing gum, but you don’t mind, you don’t have the capacity to think as his tongue touches yours and suddenly, this isn’t slow anymore, this is heat and lust and want and need. Chan’s hands are still at your lower waist, but from the way he is pressing you against him, you can tell that he wants to touch you, he is just too chivalrous to give in to his passion. You grab hold of one of his hands and place it very deliberately against your bum cheek as you pull his lower lip between your teeth and bite. Chan groans into your mouth, his left hand joining his right on your ass, and then he is lifting you up, pressing you against the railing, thoroughly devouring your mouth all the while.

You wrap your legs around his waist, and one of his hands slides down to touch your bare thigh while he breaks the kiss, pressing his lips to your throat, nibbling, licking, sucking. A moan escapes you, and you can feel him hardening in his pants. Without waiting for him to do it, you pull your shirt off so you’re just in your bikini top, and Chan immediately shifts your weight onto the railing and his left arm so he can slide his hand under the fabric and play with your nipples. At the first slight touch, you are already whining, arching into the touch, and Chan’s chuckle is half mean, half adoring as he watches you respond to him. With your bikini top askew, you feel that the clothing ratio between the two of you is a little unfair, so you pull at his shirt, and he actually stops teasing you for long enough so you can get it off of him. Unfortunately, you don’t have long to admire his physique, because as soon as the offending garment is discarded onto the floor, Chan leans forward to capture one of your nipples between his lips, and your moan is much throatier this time, needier, and you can feel Chan shudder with desire.

“I want you,” he breathes against your chest, making you shudder as the air hits your wet nipple.

“I want you, too,” you admit, stroking your hand across his pecs and earning another groan. “Can you take me like this? Up against the railing?”

Chan arches an eyebrow. “You want me to rail you against the railing?”

You groan at the dad joke, but, for once, not in pleasure. “I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

“Yup. And speaking of right into…” He slides one hand into your shorts, going straight for your pussy and parting your lower lips with his forefinger so that any protest you had against his stupid pun dies on your lips. “Fuck, you are so wet,” he sighs. “I’d love to stretch you out with my cock.”

You cock your head to the side. “So why don’t you, then?”

At that dare, Chan crashes his lips to yours and your tongues dance wildly together as he slowly strokes your clit with his fingers, making you gasp into the kiss, before abruptly breaking away. “Fuck, let me just grab a condom real quick,” he says as he puts you down gently, placing an almost sweet kiss against your lips before approaching a bag that you didn’t notice earlier. You quickly discard your shorts and bikini bottoms; now only in your bikini top, you lean against the railing and watch the shoulders in Chan’s back work deliciously as he bends over, searches his bag and finally grabs a foil package before slipping it into the pockets of his shorts. Then he joins you again, scooping you up in his strong arms. You seize the opportunity to hold onto them and stroke them as he lifts you again and captures your lips in another scorching kiss. Your wet core presses against his naked lower abs, and Chan moans at the feeling. He lowers you just a little bit, grinding his still-clothed cock against your aching pussy as he presses kisses to your throat, your cleavage, any spot of bare skin he can reach.

“Please, Chan!” You might be begging at this point, but who cares, actually, he feels big and you want to see and especially feel if that’s the case. “I needed you inside of me like five minutes ago!” He stills, breathing heavily against your skin. “Fuck, okay,” he finally rasps after a moment of silence. “Hold on.”

You put your legs onto the railing, propping yourself up while Chan sheds his shorts and underwear, but not before grabbing the condom from his pocket. You watch as he tears open the package and rolls it over his indeed fairly large cock – it almost makes your mouth water and you promise yourself that before the night is over, it will literally make your mouth water.

Having finished his preparations, Chan steps back into the space between your legs, and you pull him closer. Your kiss is slower, more deliberate as he strokes his tongue against yours, tempting you, seducing you. And then his hard cock is pressed against you, and you shift, allowing him to press into you. Slowly, you feel yourself being filled, stretched by his girth, and you moan loudly as centimetre after centimetre disappears into your tight pussy. Unconsciously, you try to shift away from the intrusion, but Chan’s hands on your hips hold you steady, so you can do nothing but give in and take it. Chan’s tongue is back on your nipple, distracting you from the stretch by stimulating you sweetly, and the way he groans against your skin, muttering how amazing you feel, how tight your little pussy is, how good you are being for him, turns you on even further so that you use your heels to pull him closer, pull him in more quickly.

Finally, when he’s fully inside of you, he comes back up to kiss you, the movement causing him to shift inside you, making you both gasp. You are completely naked, completely out in the open, you realise, and still, this moment is intimate, like you are the only two people left in the world. It’s uncomfortable, rushed, risky – and somehow still perfect.

Chan is visibly trembling with the effort of holding still. “Can I move?” he asks, his voice hoarse against your neck as he kisses you softly, waiting for you to adjust to his size.

You cups his cheek so he’ll meet your eyes. When he does, you say, “Fuck me.”

His pupils dilate, and Chan doesn’t need to be told twice before he pulls almost all the way out and pushes back in with a force that knocks the breath out of you. Before you can recover, he does it again, setting a relentless rhythm, and you are caged between his body and the railing, his thrusts an assault to your very being, but in the best way possible. His body is blazing in the cool night air, keeping you warm as he worships your body, stroking you, kissing you, licking you, fucking you. And even though your weight must take its toll on him, he doesn’t show it, doesn’t let up, pushing into you again and again, filling you, taking you. You are both trying to keep it down, so your heavy breathing can be covered by the sound of the waves, but you would not bet on it working.

He bites your shoulder, suppressing a groan. “I won’t last long, baby, you feel too good. But don’t worry, I’ll make you come as many times as you want tonight. I’ll eat your sweet pussy until you beg me to stop.” You moan, nodding, as he once again sucks a nipple into his mouth. “That’s fair,” you breathe, and Chan chuckles as he seems to again redouble his efforts, railing you against the railing as his breaths become groans rising in pitch until he bites down on your shoulder once more, stilling inside of you.

The two of you stay locked in your embrace for a moment longer, your breaths calming, before Chan tenderly kisses you as he pulls out. Scooping you up into his arms, he lays you down on the blanket and finally removes your bikini top. Drinking in your naked form in the better light provided by the lanterns, Chan strokes his hands up your sides. “There is just something about you that makes it utterly impossible for me to keep my hands to myself,” he says almost wistfully, and then he is between your legs, kissing the insides of your thighs, nuzzling into them, licking his way up to where you need him. Finally, his tongue is on your clit, and he slides two fingers inside of you, and despite the fact that you are deliciously sore from the thorough way he has just fucked you, this is exactly what you need. His tongue writes letters against your clit, every movement unexpected and all the more exciting for it, and the steady rhythm of him finger-fucking you pushes you closer and closer to the edge. God, he looks so good on his knees for you. Your hand tangles in his hair, pressing him against you, and the way he groans into your pussy makes you bite back a moan as well, biting your hand to muffle your sounds of pleasure. Your orgasm crashes over you like the waves below you, unrelenting and unavoidable, and you remove your hand, letting Chan hear your high-pitched moans.

Chan stills his hand to feel the contractions around his fingers, but continues to kitten-lick your clit, drawing out your orgasm until you still, shaking from the stimulation. Only then does he press a handful of kisses to your lower belly and move to join you on the blanket properly, propped up on his side on one elbow, pulling you close and pecking your cheek repeatedly until you turn to slowly, lazily, kiss him. His hand strokes your side again. “That was… Pretty fucking great,” he reminisces, and you can’t help but giggle at the verdict.

“It was,” you agree, dragging your nails up Chan’s veiny forearm, making him shiver. For a moment, the sound of the waves is the only thing you hear. “And you’re here for three more days?” Chan asks, a serious note in his playful tone.

You continue to feel his muscular arms as you nod. “That’s right. Why?”

Chan shrugs – awkwardly, given his current position. “Oh, nothing,” he dismisses the question. “I was just contemplating how often I can fuck you in three days.”

A slow grin spreads across your face. “I’d wager that a low to medium double-digit number could be achieved, don’t you agree?”

Chan’s face mirrors your expression. “Do you want to make a bet?” You shrug. “I’d rather suck your cock.” His expression is a mixture of shyness and surprise before it takes on a devilish note. “Well, in that case,” he says, his hand sliding to cup your arse, "be my guest."

[architectureandfilmblog]

The villa of Commandant Höss: a "paradise" which shared a wall with Auschwitz.

ARCHITECTURE OF GENOCIDE: THE ZONE OF INTEREST (2023)

Before I saw this film, I'd assumed that it would illustrate the way architecture can be used to facilitate denial or self-deception. Like PARASITE (2019), in which one - in that case wholly fictional - family creates a lavish domestic retreat from which they can't see the overcrowding, poverty and suffering that surrounds them. But although Hedwig Höss speaks of planting vines to cover the wall they share with Auschwitz, there's no pretending this neighbour isn't there. The Höss's live in a pristine 1937 villa, with a manicured garden where they have parties and their children swim in a pool, and this juxtaposition is chilling. But they can still see the chimneys, and hear the screams, and nobody is denying what's next door.

This is one of the most horrifying movies I've seen, and that's due to the banality of the domestic scenes. We aren't watching a stereotypically deranged mass murderer, or even a psychopathic commandant at work inside the camp. Instead we see a comfortable house, a beautiful garden, two parents who love one another and their children. And who've somehow been able to assimilate the fact that millions are being murdered behind their garden wall.

The film is based loosely on a novel, but also on research into the lives of the real Höss's. A replica was built of their villa and garden, only metres from where the real home still stands. It's suggested that the real Rudolf and Hedwig considered themselves homesteaders, reclaiming rural territory for the 'master race', as was the Nazi ideal. In the film, Hedwig repeatedly emphasises the role of building and grounds as a status symbol. Their villa had been taken from its Polish owners and architecturally altered to fit the Höss's image. Most of the items inside would have been plundered from Jewish homes, and others, such as stools, and the wheelbarrow full of smaller seized items, would have been custom-made by prisoners. This isnt a home that is genteel in spite of the camp next door. On the contrary, everything about it, down to the fur coat on Hedwig's back, exists as a result of persecution and genocide.

The Zone was an exclusion area of over 40 sq. km around the camp, created after Poles and Jews were expelled from nearby villages. It's jarring how idyllic it appears in the film, with meadows, birdsong, a gently babbling river. While obviously not as horrifying as human apathy, the indifference of a place to the evil it houses is disconcerting, especially if you're in a profession like architecture or urban design, where places are thought to be somehow expressive of what occurs within them. We do see the horror occasionally seep beyond camp walls - a practiced scramble to leave sun loungers as crematoria smoke seeps into the garden, a wash of ash infiltrating the picturesque river.

It's likely that the filmmakers were using the extreme example of this family to remind us of our own ability to become apathetic and desensitised to the suffering of strangers, particularly when we feel our personal safety and comfort may be threatened. (Current campaigns to essentially criminalise poverty in the form of homelessness in certain cities, come to mind). Obviously the murder of millions is an evil on a completely different scale, and I have to believe that 99% of us wouldnt be capable of the Höss's actions, but it's a chilling and worthwhile reminder nonetheless.

[http-paprika]

I love your stories so much lemme tell you I binge read all of em and I wanted to ask if maybe you could write a ghost x wife reader where he has a nightmare about losing them

In With the Rain | Simon "Ghost" Riley

My first-ever request, aren't I such a lucky gal! Anyways, this took forever for me to get around to writing, sorry. This was also a difficult request to answer because I know others have done stories similar. So, if there are any similarities, it purely by coincidence. Enjoy!

wc: 719 pairing: simon "ghost" riley x f!reader warnings: brief mentions of violence, gore, and death; along with way too much angst. includes: ghost being a caring father and husband.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The storm outside raged loudly like the one inside of Simon’s mind. He couldn’t distinguish between the beating of rain against the bedroom window and the spray of builts piercing against him.

Screaming, searing pain beat into him as the battle in his mind ran loose. The line between reality and delusion thins as the distinctive smell of iron violently rips through his senses, and the warm liquid seeps through his gear and clothes. The crumpled figure in his arms clings to him with what little strength it has, his wife's battered and beaten remains. His love, the person who’d pulled him through so many storms before, a firm foundation that has been reduced to broken skin and bones. It aches in his body, the feeling of her heart losing its rhythm, and the slowing of her breath. Like a knife through his chest, through all the layers of ice he’d built to prevent something like this from happening. 

“Y/N! God! Y/N!” Simon wants to scream, but his voice comes out hoarse as if he’s been screaming for her for hours. Hot tears stream down his face, clinging to his mask and falling onto her discolored skin. How could he have done this to her? In his mind, Simon always feared he’d be her downfall, her upcoming, but this was worse than he’d ever dreamed.

 Cracking thunder against the sky jolts him awake, like the shockwave of a bomb ringing through his ears, heightening his heart rate. The battlefield had dissolved around him, he was no longer stranded in some horrific, unforgiving place, but in the safety of his townhouse. The sheets have been kicked to the end of the bed Simon shares with his wife, his hand reaches to his right, searching desperately for her body and warmth. But the bed is empty, only keeping remnants of her warm and an indentation of where her body had laid. 

 Almost falling out of bed, he stumbles through the room, not giving a second glance to his disheveled state as he passes the mirror. He searches with vigor through the house, in the bathroom, in his son’s bedroom, in the office, all through the rooms but Simon can’t find her, the house is an empty shell with no one but him. 

 Standing in the kitchen, his body shakes with fear after being unable to find her or their son. Were they gone? Disappearing from his life and taking his security with them. But the light from the back porch catches his attention, Simon could’ve sworn he’d turned it off before retiring for the night. His hand reaches the handle, and the door which he’d most definitely locked, creaks open. Stepping out, where the rain is no longer muffled by the outside, his eyes finally fall on her. She’s curled up on the lounger, their son tucked in the crook of her arms. 

 “Y/N?” She uncurls herself enough to turn and stare at Simon, eyes drooping from an evident lack of sleep. “What’re you doing out here?” 

 “Liam wasn’t sleeping, and you know the rain calms him down.” He nods at her statement, stepping and sitting at the foot of the lounge chair. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you.” 

“S’not your fault.” Simon sighs, rubbing his face before returning to look at their infant child. “Thought you were gone for a moment.” 

“Oh–” Y/N frowns, knowing what he’d meant. It’d been some time since he’d had one of those dreams, the last few times being right after Liam was born. “Well, we’re still here. We’re not going anywhere, Simon.” 

 “I know, I shouldn’t worry you with my problems.” He responds, putting a hand on her knee. “Sorry.” 

 “You know you don’t have to apologize to me about that, I’m your wife. You’re allowed to tell me when you’re worried or afraid.” She reminds him, repositioning Liam so that she can place a hand on top of Simon’s. “I’m here for you, don’t ever forget that.” 

 “Thank you. I could never ask for more.” A smile ghosts Simon’s face as he looks back at her. Knowing, truly knowing that she was there for him, and she was safe. As long as he was alive, they’d be safe. And those nightmares would never be anything more than that. 

[kestrelteens]

Some of you guys asked me to share this beach lot I’ve recently built for my new desert ‘hood Oasisville and here it is! 🌵

The lot is completely functional and your simmies can even get in the water from the lowest platform although they will go underwater and sometimes they will swim normally, don’t know why, but still, it's kinda realistic? I just imagine them diving lol. 🌊 They will also get out of the water onto the beach. The waves from the ocean do go all over the two lower platforms, but it looks kinda cool! Preview pic under the cut.

Anyway, I hope you’ll have lots and lots of fun with it! ☀️

I’ve packaged it with the little CC it has, but I will list everything you might need under the cut in case any blue flashing gets in the way! And please use Clean Installer ♥

download (sfs) // alt download (mediafire)

Wavy waves:

CC you might need:

these rowboats by theraven I reuploaded here because the website seems to be down

this pool ladder recolor

these lights

parasol from here

this build set

this build set

these plants

this pool lounger

this fence

ladder

wildgrass

[latalpavolante]

Modern Komorebi Home

A home in the more modern part of Mt. Komorebi which combines contemporary architecture with Japanese inspired design and eco elements. It works well as a residential or a holiday rental for a single sim or a couple and offers space for skill building, relaxing and inviting friends over.

One Bedroom - 1.5 Bathrooms

Special Features: the side porch comes with a grill, a picnic table and a telescope; the balcony includes two loungers, three planters and a bonsai tree

Lot Type: Residential (probably would also work well as a Holiday Rental though)

Lot: 2-4-1 Wakabamori, 20x15, Wakaba, Mt. Komorebi

Lot Traits: Homey, Fast Internet

Price: § 60,284

Packs: SnowyEscape | DineOut | FitnessStuff | DesertLuxe

noCC

MoveObjectsOn cheat required

Playtested (There was one weird issue I couldn't completely solve, more info under the cut)

Available on the Sims 4 gallery!

Gallery ID: LaTalpaVolante

You can watch the speed build on my YouTube channel:

For some small tweaks TwistedMexi’s T.O.O.L. mod was used, but you don’t need the mod in your game for this to show up the way I built it.

Floorplan and more info under the cut!

Known issue: While I was playtesting, my sim sometimes couldn't wash any dishes in the kitchen sink. Any other interactions with the sink would work without problems though (like taking a glass of water or washing their hands). Deleting the lamp above the sink seems to be the easiest way to fix this. Alternatively, you'd just have to drag the dishes into the sink manually. Sorry for this inconvenice, everything else should work fine though.

(I know I could have swapped out the lamp right away before uploading the build, but the whole issue was somewhat confusing (as I sometimes got the sink to function without having to delete the lamp, so I wasn't sure what was actually causing the issue). I'm also trying to explain it in the video, but yeah, at some point I just gave up and left the lamp where it was... Sorry again...)

[humanpurposes]

My Heart Belongs to Daddy, part v, modern!Aemond

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist // She's the first one that I see

modern!Aemond x step-daughter

Warnings: 18+, smut, language, questionable relationships, you know the drill, also mentions of terminal illness.

Words: 9300

A/n: Aemond's pov here we gooo. This part gets its own header coz vibes. Also available to read on AO3.

Another summer brought another two months at Dragonstone. 

The relief Aemond felt clambering out of his mother’s Volvo and into the coastal breeze was immeasurable. Helaena got the front seat, as always, which left the three boys to be packed into the backseat for two hours, in the middle of a June heatwave.

He somewhat resented Daemon and Laena’s absence this year. Generally they alternated summers between Dragonstone and Pentos with the Velaryons. It was a shame, his uncle often brought some much needed tension to family holidays, the entertaining kind as opposed to the depressing kind, and Baela and Rhaena were by far the most tolerable of the younger family members.

Viserys hadn’t arrived yet. He had some work things to catch up on and would drive down later, which just left the Strongs. Alicent had received a call from Rhaenyra while they were in the car to say they’d be a few hours behind them. Thank the Gods. At least it gave them a few hours of peace.

Dragonstone had originally been built as a castle, preserved over the centuries as a place for pleasure rather than a defensive keep. It had a gatehouse, turrets, arrowslits, parapets and ivy sprawling over the outer walls that turned red in the autumn. It looked idyllic, like a castle out of a fairytale.

After bringing his bag up to his room there was only one place Aemond wanted to be.

His favourite part of coming back to Dragonstone were the gardens, sprawling walks of greenery, sweet-smelling rose bushes and sandstone archways. If the weather was right, he could convince himself he was in some remote corner of an Italian manor house. 

One of the gravel paths led down to the pool, overlooked by a patio from the back of the main house. It was a blissful little oasis, when he could have it to himself, of crystal clear water, tall hedges and blue and orange tiles laid out in intricate patterns. 

He had his trunks on already and left his t-shirt and shorts on a sun lounger before he slipped into the water. The cold was a welcome reprieve, especially when he dunked his head under and pushed off from the side, cutting through the water with powerful strokes. 

It had been a while since he’d had time for swimming and he felt slightly irritated at the ache in his arms from the unfamiliar movements. To be fair to himself, he hadn’t made time for any hobbies over the last few weeks on account of his exams, and it had paid off at least. He still had a few weeks until he would get his results but he knew he would do well. 

As far as he was concerned, his future was set. He would get four A*s, then in September he’d be off to Oldtown to start university. In three years, he would graduate with a first and come back to King’s Landing to start at Targ Corp, despite his grandfather’s attempts to convince him to consider a career at Beacon, the Hightower family business. Otto had a vision that one day, his grandsons would run two of the largest companies in Westeros, Aegon at Targ Corp and Aemond at Beacon.

Although the offer of a generous salary and an internship during his studies had sounded tempting, it was a question of pride more than anything. The silver hair should have been evidence enough; Aemond was a Targaryen before he was a Hightower.

Despite his determination to live up to the family name, he had come to resent these summers at their ancestral home. The house and the gardens were beautiful, and he loved being so close to the isolated beach below the hill the house was set on, but he could think of no worse fate than having to spend ten weeks with his insufferable sister, their father’s pride and joy, her idiotic husband and their three sons. 

He ran his hands over his face as he emerged on the other side of the pool, his left palm skimming over the scar on the side of his face. It was easy to forget it was there sometimes, until he’d catch someone frowning at it. 

Rhaenyra was lucky his mother hadn’t pressed charges and publically issued a statement that the whole thing had been a “tragic accident”. Later he learnt Alicent had been holding it over Rhaenyra’s head ever since, waiting for a time when she’d need the leverage.

Ten weeks with the Strongs was all that stood between him and the rest of his life, some sick test of patience. 

He wasn’t alone for long before he spotted Aegon and Daeron at the outlook up at the house. They sprinted out of view and soon came hurtling down the steps to the pool in their trunks. They leapt in, disturbing Aemond’s laps but he reluctantly let himself be happy that the three of them were in the same place for once.

Aegon had just finished a degree in criminal psychology. Alicent and Otto had had to practically buy him a place at KLU. How he had managed to pass was a mystery to everyone, Aemond wondered if he had pulled it together at the last minute purely out of spite. He had already been living in a flat in central with a few of his friends for the last two years. Helaena said he rarely visited the house.

Aemond and Daeron had barely been back from Duskendale before they were all in the car to Dragonstone. He hadn��t minded boarding school, in some ways it made him appreciate the times he got to be at home, and it meant he didn’t have to see his father on a daily basis or watch his mother drive herself insane with her self-imposed workload. Again, Helaena gave him updates on that. He supposed it would make the move to Oldtown less jarring. 

For now he laughed as Aegon challenged them to swimming races and tackled Daeron when he lost. The oldest Targaryen brother was surprisingly strong for his shorter stature. Daeron towered over him but he was wiry, easy for Aegon to sling him over his shoulder.

They were making such a scene in the water that Aemond didn’t notice his mother until she shouted Aegon’s name from the bottom of the steps. “Put your brother down and get changed, seven hells!”

Aegon tossed Daeron’s legs over his head, sending him flopping unceremoniously into the pool. “What’s the rush?” 

“Rhaenyra and Harwin are only half an hour away!” Alicent shrieked, as if this was something they should have cared about. “And they’re bringing a guest, so I want you all presentable and ready for dinner before they arrive.”

Daeron was starting to climb up the ladder, so Aemond pressed his palms to the edge of the pool and pushed himself out. 

“What guest?” he asked, reaching for his towel from one of the sun loungers.

Harwin’s niece. 

She’d been a flower girl at Harwin and Rhaenyra’s wedding, but he only knew that from the photographs. He didn’t remember the last time he must have seen her, probably some family gathering with the Strongs, before Luke slashed a knife in his face and they stopped seeing them as often. 

Aegon seemed eager for “fresh meat” as they marched back up to the house.

Daeron was more sceptical and shot Aemond a concerned frown. “Just what we need, another Strong kid.”

After a quick shower, Aemond changed into a white t-shirt and a pair of dark green cargo trousers, and made his way through the maze of hallways and ornate staircases. He found his parents in the reception hall, a spacious room located at the front of the house, leading off from the entrance hall,  going through to the dining room on one side and the drawing room from the other. It was where they usually lingered when the arrival of a guest was imminent. 

Most of the visitors to Dragonstone considered this to be the most impressive room in the house, with its tall stained glass windows, silver chandelier, walnut panelling and carved columns supporting a gallery on the first floor.

The smell of smoke and charred wood drifted from the fireplace, mingling with the musk of antique velvet sofas. Alicent was torn between typing something on her phone and discussing some arrangement with their head of security, a deceptively young looking man with black hair named Criston Cole.

Evidently Viserys had arrived. He was sitting in a red armchair, taking small sips of a glass of whisky. He looked up when he heard footsteps against the floor, and offered his son a vague nod.

Helaena and Daeron weren’t far behind Aemond, and Aegon was of course the last to make it down. He insisted it was “perfect timing,” because the moment he walked into the room, Cole received a call from the front gate.

Daeron perched on the windowsill and jittering like a puppy as a black escalade pulled up before the gatehouse. 

Within minutes Viserys was throwing his arms around his favourite child. Aemond cast a cold glare over Harwin, Jace, Luke and little Joffrey, clinging to his father’s hand with his thumb in his mouth. The sixth guest followed behind them.

Her hair was pulled away from her face, wide eyes sweeping curiously over the people, the paintings on the walls and the antiques in glass cabinets. The beginning of a smile spread across her lips, but her face fell when her eyes met his.

Aemond sucked his teeth into his lips. He was used to people looking at him like that, or averting their gaze altogether. He could only imagine what Jace and Luke might have told her about their cruel uncle and his horrible scar. 

At dinner she sat on the other end of the table from him, between Harwin and Jace. She was a few years older than her cousins but they all seemed to get on well, joking and smiling at each other. It made Aemond’s blood boil.

Daeron made a point of introducing himself to her but he suspected this show of hospitality was mostly because she was pretty.

She really was pretty though, and quiet, but not necessarily in a nervous way. She seemed content to listen, smiling vaguely at the things people said, feeling no need to fill the silences. When she did smile– properly smile– it was wide, bright and unashamed. 

He overheard her mention an interest in history as dessert was brought out, asking Rhaenyra and Viserys all sorts of questions about Dragonstone’s origins and architecture. He thought of a few books in the library he could recommend but dismissed the idea. When Aegon suggested giving her a tour of the house he felt his grip on his fork tighten. 

Dragonstone was large enough that even with most of the family there it was easy to feel alone, and Aemond spent the first few days of their stay doing exactly that. In the mornings he’d go for a run, then head down to either the pool or the beach for a quick swim. He had his reading list for uni already and was making his way through a textbook on political philosophy, which he read either in the library or a quiet corner of the garden. 

Daeron and Aegon were far better at being civil with Jace and Luke than he was, and she seemed happy to tag along with their antics. Aemond avoided them where he could. 

One afternoon he decided to take his textbook to the patio at the back of the house, and winced at the shrieks of laughter coming from the pool. He was going to head back inside but found himself stepping towards the balustrade, looking over the greenery to the unnaturally blue water.

She was sitting on the edge of the pool in a red swimsuit, with her legs in the water. Even from so far away he could make out the details of her smile, her teeth, the roundness of her cheeks and the way she squinted her eyes.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, until a gentle voice pulled him from his trance.

“Aemond?”

His heart almost stopped and he spun around immediately. An awful feeling sank into his chest, like he’d done something wrong.

Helaena was standing in the doorway, in a pale blue sundress and purple sandals. “Me and mum were going to drive into the village, if you’d like to come?”

Maybe some time away from the house would do him good. He nodded and uttered a quiet “yes.”

She came onto her tiptoes, trying to peer past his shoulder, but from where she was standing she wouldn’t have been able to see what he was looking at. Maybe she didn’t need to see. Another few howls of laughter drifted up to the patio, and a cry of “Aegon, you bastard!” 

Helaena sighed and smiled. He left his book on a table in the entrance hall and followed his sister out to the gatehouse where Alicent was already waiting in the Volvo.

The village was just over a ten minute drive away from the house. Aemond leaned his head against the window in the backseat, feeling content in the blur of vibrant greens and blues. He could have fallen asleep to the hum of the air con and the voices of his mother and sister.

Until he heard her name.

“What?” he mumbled, absentmindedly, shifting himself in the seat and catching Helaena’s eye through her overhead mirror.

“She’s starting her A Levels in September,” Alicent said. “Politics, philosophy and history, same as you.”

He had also taken an extra class in High Valyrian, but he wasn’t going to hold it against her.

“You’d get on I think,” Helaena added, pushing her John Lennon-esque sunglasses on top of her head. He could see she was smirking.

Aemond huffed and went back to staring out the window at the fields, the sky, the sea and the wildflowers growing at the side of the road. He could say he didn’t care about their guest but it would have been a lie. He couldn’t get that red swimsuit out of his head.

Eventually he started agreeing to the occasional beach trip or tennis match. Turns out he quite enjoyed spending time with his nephews when he could beat them at something. And it meant he could see her more often.

There were these odd moments, when he’d catch her staring at him over breakfast or by the pool, that got his hopes up a little, only for her to quickly look away and find someone to fawn over, usually Aegon or one of her cousins. But then she’d find him in the garden and ask about the book he was reading, or sit next to him when they lit a campfire on the beach, just brushing her leg against his. 

They could be confusing but he liked those moments. Every day he woke up ectatic that he would get to see her, and that they might talk about politics or philosophy or a shared love for Daphne du Maurier or the Great Gatsby.

He needed her alone, just once.

He got the chance on the last weekend of July. Alicent, Rhaenyra and Helaena had gone to Rosby for the day, while Harwin had been talking about a trip to Dragonstone harbour to go fishing, something Daeron sounded rather enthusiastic about. Leaving him, Aegon and Viserys at the house. 

After a late breakfast, Aemond went up to the library with the next book on his reading list, An Introduction to Essosi Regionalism. He was rather taken aback to see her sitting at the writing desk by the window. He had assumed she had gone to the harbour with the others.

In a sudden and awkward motion she stood and turned to face him, with wide eyes and a small smile.

“Sorry,” she said, pointing at the desk, “did you want to–”

“No.” He instantly regretted how short and final he sounded. 

Her eyes dipped and he realised he was clutching his book far too tightly.

“I was only looking really,” she said, reaching back for her book, a biography of Queen Alysanne. 

“You like history,” he said, intending it to be a question but it sounded more like a statement.

She smiled again, at his mistake, he guessed. “Yeah, it’s incredible getting to spend so much time here, it’s a beautiful house.”

He stepped forward to place his book on the desk behind her, noticing the sweet citrusy scent of her perfume and the way  she tensed up when he came too close.

“I could show you around, if you’d like? I mean, you’ve already been here long enough and you’ve probably seen most of it by now–”

It was only when she put a hand on his shoulder did he realise his head had dropped down to the floor.

“I’d love to,” she said.

Suddenly his chest felt a little lighter.

He showed her his favourite parts of the house, except the library which she had already seen, obviously. She had so many questions, noticed every detail and traced her fingertips along the ancient stone walls with a look of wonder that made his heart flutter.

Then they came to the long gallery overlooking the reception hall. He pointed out the fan vaulted ceiling detailed with gold and the line of portraits of hundreds of years of Targaryen history, monarchs and more recent family members. She was especially fascinated with a portrait of King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne with children. She could put a name and a story to every face.

She turned her head towards him and her breath hitched when she realised he was looking at her. His first instinct was to back away and apologise, but she didn’t move or say anything, just looked up at him with those pretty eyes. 

He wondered if he should kiss her. He’d never tried to kiss someone before. It should have been simple enough but it felt so daunting. What if he did it wrong? What if she didn’t want him to?

He saw her eyes flicker to his scar, and felt like he understood.

“Do you want to look at the old solar?” he asked, already walking towards the north door at the end of the gallery.

Behind him he heard her mutter a quiet “yeah.”

He rushed through the last few rooms. He could hardly catch his breath or think beyond the choking feeling in his throat or how hot the house seemed all of a sudden.

“Do you want to go outside?” she asked when he suggested going to the Maegor suite. 

He nodded, and followed her down to the entrance hall, where they ran into Aegon. He was in trunks and an unbuttoned shirt to show off the tan on his abs.

He glanced between them with a strange look in his eye. “Beach?”

“Sounds good!” she said with a bright smile. “I just need to get some stuff from my room.”

Aegon grinned at her, then at his brother.

“I’m good, thanks,” Aemond grumbled, and went to spend the rest of the day sulking in his room.

Something was different about her after that. She stopped asking so many questions and rather than smile at him when they passed each other in the hallways she sighed and put her head down.

He really didn’t have much experience with these kinds of things, and he sure in seven hells wasn’t going to ask Aegon for advice. 

He wished there was something he could do, but every time he thought about trying to talk to her he pictured her eyes on his scar and decided he’d rather spare her the trouble.

August went by far too quickly and then she was gone.

His time at the University of Oldtown brought some interesting experiences.

People seemed to respect him in a way he wasn’t used to. His lecturers complimented his work and his commitment to his studies. His classmates listened to him when he spoke in seminars, asked for his opinions on current affairs and invited him to lunches and parties. 

He felt like a novelty in Oldtown, people wanted to befriend him, be seen with him, earn his approval. He felt shallow for admitting it, but the newfound attention felt good.

When he went back to King’s Landing that first summer, everyone said he was different. He’d always been interested in sports but he’d committed to a gym routine, shed some of the baby fat and toned out nicely. He traded the trackies and sports trainers for black shirts and leather jackets, got his ears pierced, drank whisky and smoked cigarettes on nights out.

And it turned out he wasn’t as hideous as he thought he was, in fact more often than not, the scar worked in his favour when it came to flirting. 

After graduating he spent the summer in Oldtown, on an internship at Beacon, until Alicent told him she needed him in King’s Landing. She needed a contender of her own to pose as Viserys’ successor against Rhaenyra, and it was obvious neither Aegon or Helaena were going to live up to her expectations. So he did as he was told and moved back home, just in time for everything to start going wrong.

Viserys made his will. Rhaenyra was set to inherit Targ Corp and just about everything else he owned, including Dragonstone. Fucking typical. She had always been his golden child, all that was left of his beloved first wife. His mother always said he never got over Aemma. Singling out Rhaenyra was his way of making it up to her.

But Alicent had been the one helping Viserys run Targ Corp for twenty years, while Rhaenyra’s only real talent was her ability to get whatever she wanted out of their father.

If Rhaenyra were to succeed Viserys, everything his mother had worked for would be for nothing, but Aemond could be the one to change that. He could bring Targ Corp to new heights and live up to the legacy of the Targaryen name. All he needed was for Viserys to give him that chance.

Alicent had been in talks with Borros Baratheon of Storm’s End, an energy company based in the Stormlands. A deal with them would open Targ Corp to a whole new industry, and maybe then Viserys would recognise the lapse in judgement. 

The Storm’s End contract was everything and Alicent had trusted Aemond to see it through. Only it fell apart in his hands. One seemingly minor mistake and Baratheon was out.

Alicent was devastated and it killed him. The late nights and weekends working in the office when she should have been with her children, the constant spite and security from the corporate world, the tabloid news stories that called her a “gold digger,” and the years she spent chasing her husband’s approval had all been for nothing.

She never said it, but Aemond knew she blamed him.

It had been a shitty three months and by December he was exhausted. Daeron was back from Duskendale, Aegon was staying for a few weeks, and Helaena was adamant that they were going to have an enjoyable Christmas. She covered the house in fairy lights and put up a tree in the living room, decorated with colourful baubles that really had nothing to do with Christmas; rainbows, butterflies and bees. 

The other three agreed to indulge her. Aegon suddenly became an expert at Christmas cocktails, Daeron was in a baking frenzy and Aemond put his old piano lessons to good use. He sat at the baby grand in the hallway for the first time in forever and played some old hymns mum used to make them sing. Until Aegon put the chords for Fairytale of New York in front of him, which he agreed was a much better song.

Alicent came in from the office on the 24th, rain soaked through her coat and her eyes red. She’d had a call from Lyonel Strong.

Harwin was in the hospital. Pancreatic cancer. He’d been ignoring the symptoms for years apparently, and by the time Rhaneyra made him get a diagnosis it was too late.

Nothing was an isolated issue. Mum, dad, Rhaenyra, work… everything fed off each other in a single spiral of chaos and grief.

He needed the space, he decided at a fundraiser on New Years Eve. He and Viserys had arrived together but they didn’t so much as make eye contact the entire night. Rhaenyra was understandably inconsolable, mum had refused to go, Helaena wasn’t cut out for these kinds of events and Daeron was studying for mock exams. He at least found solace in the knowledge that he was preferable to Aegon.

A woman with black hair caught his attention. She moved effortlessly throughout the room, martini in hand, which she sipped through dark red lips as she struck up conversations with the other attendees. Did she realise she was targeting the richest people in the room? Probably. She blended in well, in a black slip dress and a pearl necklace, but there was something else, glaring him right in the face.

She was familiar, but he couldn’t place where he might have seen her before.

She smirked when she realised he was staring at her. After ordering herself another drink she waltzed over to him and introduced herself as “Alys Rivers.”

He must have let a little of his shock show on his face, because she smirked again.

Alys Rivers. Harwin’s cousin. The woman with the pretty daughter who’d spent a summer at Dragonstone.

They chatted for hours, she was very curious to hear about the company politics at Targ Corp, the few months he’d been working there and the whole debacle with the Storm’s End contract. She told him about herself too. She worked for Harrenhal PR, alongside her brothers, but was looking to start her own company.

He asked about Harwin. 

That was the only time her perfect persona faltered, just for a moment, but then she took a sip of her drink and she was back to business. She said she was doing alright. It was a shock, he was like a brother to her, and she was trying to make the most of the moments she had left with him.

“It makes you appreciate what you have,” she said. They had found a table in a corner of the bar, ordering too many cocktails. She sighed heavily and put her hand on her chest, over her heart, “I’m so lucky I’ve got my darling girl.”

He didn’t even need to ask before she started telling him more. She was in her second year of studying history at KLU, a bright student, a sweet and serious girl.

She said Harwin adored her, always had, even once things got serious with Rhaenyra and he started having kids of his own.

“Poor thing,” he said, “this must all be so hard on her.”

“She’s like me,” Alys insisted, finishing off another martini. Her words were starting to slur, but even when she was drunk she did it gracefully. “Nothing phases her.”

He could still remember the smell of her perfume, sweet and citrusy.

Alys’s perfume was dark, bitter and boozy. When he kissed her the taste of her martinis burned on his tongue. Vodka. He was more of a gin man.

Generally he tried to avoid one night stands, but it didn’t take much convincing before he found himself in her hotel room.

He spent the entire night on his back while she edged him relentlessly, with her hands and her mouth, before she finally rode him, whispering praises in his ear as she did it. 

He decided it would be bad manners not to text her, so the following Friday night, they went to a steakhouse on Conquest street. It felt more like a business meeting than a date, they talked more about Targ Corp and her plans for her own PR firm. She had the ambition and industry knowledge, but needed the strategy and the connections to make it work. 

“You and I could be a match made in heaven,” he said.

She paused midway through a sip of red wine, and raised her eyebrow ever so slightly. “I don’t usually go for younger men,” she said, “but you’re smart and uncomplicated. I think we could work something out.”

The line between business and pleasure was non-existent. They looked over contracts and business plans over coffee, accompanied each other to conferences and fucked in hotel rooms. She was straightforward, blunt at times but he found it impressive and refreshing. He never had to guess what she was thinking because she didn’t see the point in trying to hide behind niceties. Every time he complimented her confidence she said it was “a consequence of age.”

Things moved faster than he realised. Suddenly winter was turning into spring and Alys asked him to work for Rivers PR full time. 

He found the wherewithal to tell Alicent and Viserys on a rare occasion that his father actually bothered to eat with them. He tried to be as casual as he could about his sabbatical from Targ Corp. It ended with an explosive row over the dinner table, leaving both Helaena and his mother in tears. Viserys was still shouting from the hallway as he packed an overnight bag and stormed out to his car.

He had to call three times before Aegon finally picked up. “Good for you!” his brother cheered down the end of the phone. “Who would have thought you’d end up like this though? Six months ago you were mum’s favourite son.”

“She just kept telling me I was selfish,” Aemond said, first the Storm’s End contract and now this. “And apparently Rhaenyra’s been up in arms about Alys branching off from Harrenhal, especially with everything that’s going on with Harwin.”

“Will you go to hers then?”

He was already heading towards central. “That’s why I called, I need somewhere to stay, I thought you could put me up for a bit.”

Aegon drew out an exaggerated “uhh,” and Aemond hung up, not in the mood to listen to some long winded excuse.

He gripped the steering wheel as he came to a junction and a sign for Queen’s Park. So much for being “uncomplicated.”

Alys was in a silk robe when she opened the door. “Mummy and daddy kicked you out?” she asked with a pouty frown.

He insisted he had left of his own accord.

It was a beautiful terraced house, plaster fronted, overlooking the park. The interior was understated and elegant, dark wood floors, white walls and bursts of muted greens.

It was quiet too, and the only light came from the kitchen.

“Where’s–”

“She’s out with a few friends,” Alys said.

He followed her through to the kitchen, where she poured out two glasses of wine and he told her everything. 

By the time he was done she had finished her glass. She looked into it, like she was surprised to see that it was empty. He hadn’t touched his. 

“Are you planning on staying for long?” she asked.

For a moment he felt stupid for coming to her at all. He couldn’t quite figure out what they were to each other, and suddenly he was showing up on her doorstep and using her like a therapist. 

“I called Aegon first but I think he’s busy. I can be gone in the morning if you want.”

She took hold of his shoulder, stroking her thumb over the fabric of his shirt. “You can stay as long as you need to.”

He looked at her. He was used to her expression being so smug and severe, but she looked gentle now, her eyes wide and full of pity. When he took a shallow breath he realised she was wearing the same, dark perfume from New Years.

He kissed her slowly, nudging his nose against hers and slipping a hand around her waist to pull her in closer.

She chuckled softly as she pulled away. “I’ll be off early in the morning. Take some time if you need to, sort something out with Aegon or…”

“Right,” he said, swallowing down the lingering taste of red wine from her lips.

They slept in her bed, with their backs to each other.

When he woke in the morning Alys was gone. He checked the time on his phone, 8am, and he had a text from her: Help yourself to coffee. Let me know what your plan is.

He threw on a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants before he headed downstairs. He quickly figured out his way around the expensive coffee machine and settled on a stool at the island with a cup of black coffee.

His hands were restless, tapping against the coffee cup and the counter top. 

She was in the same house as him, probably sound asleep upstairs, though he hadn’t heard anyone come in during the night. Did she know he was here? She must have seen the car outside, but she wouldn’t know it was his. 

He’d hardly even considered the possibility of seeing her again until now, but he hadn’t expected things with to Alys to go this far.

He looked down at his phone. Maybe staying with Alys wasn’t such a good idea. He started typing out a text to Aegon when he heard the door to the kitchen open.

“Hello again.”

She stood in the doorway, squinting her eyes at him, hair loose and tousled, in nothing but an overused Black Sabbath t-shirt that covered the tops of her thighs. She looked a little dishevelled and utterly perfect.

“Hi,” Aemond said, putting his phone down and reaching for his cup. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

“No, I got a text from mum. She said she had a guest and I was free to ignore him or kick him out.”

“Have you decided which?”

She huffed a laugh and there was that smile again, though not as wide as it had been that summer. “I felt like being nosy,” she said. 

She moved towards the sink and filled a glass of water, which she finished in one go, with a sound of satisfaction. She drew the tip of her tongue between her lips and set the glass on the counter before she turned to look at him again. “So you’re mum’s new boytoy?”

“Is that what she calls me?” he said, trying to play off the tight feeling in his chest with a small smirk.

“She doesn’t call you anything, actually. She’s been going on these little dates, calling them ‘work calls’ and hoping I won’t notice.”

“How do you know they’re not work calls?”

“I wouldn’t have until she brought you home with her.”

“That was my fault…” he looked down at his coffee. He was convinced he could already feel the caffeine buzzing in his fingertips.

“You look different,” she said.

His eyes shot back to her. “How so?”

“Your hair’s longer. It makes you look older.”

He raised an eyebrow and smiled at the way she recoiled into herself.

“I meant it as a compliment, honest.”

She looked different too. Her face hadn’t changed much from what he could remember, but mostly he noticed that she seemed more subdued. Her eyes were set in dark circles and they weren’t as wide, and when she wasn’t speaking her lips fell slightly. She looked older, but then how long had it been since Dragonstone? More than three years, less than four. 

She told him where everything was in the kitchen, which he could have figured out himself but he didn’t want to interrupt her. She asked how long he was going to stay and he said until he heard back from Aegon.

That turned out to be a week later, and by then Alys insisted she liked having him around.

Initially he looked at a few rentals, which Alys discouraged and insisted he should buy his own place. Between work and the daily mass of texts he was getting from his siblings about Targ Corp and their parents, he couldn’t find the time to truly consider it.

It was easy to fall into a routine with Alys. She left for work earlier than him so he took his own car every morning. Everyone at the office guessed they were ‘together’ but they kept things professional. If he so much as put a hand on her shoulder she scared him off with a warning look. She always stayed later than him so he’d go back to the house, sort out dinner and have it waiting for when the girls got home.

The girls. He was going domestic.

She only had lectures a few times a week and when she was at home she stayed in her bedroom, only occasionally bringing a book down to the garden or the lounge while he worked in the kitchen. He wondered if she was avoiding him. Considering the awful impression he made at Dragonstone, he didn’t blame her. 

But eventually she started to warm up to him. They found some common interests and small talk turned into in-depth discussions of history and politics and their favourite films and albums. She loved Mazzy Star especially. Sometimes, when he had the house to himself, he’d listen through their albums and imagine her listening to the same songs.

He soon learned just how elusive Alys could be. She always had something going on, a work event, a conference or even trips to Pentos with her old uni friends. When she was at home she was usually in the study on the top floor of the house, on a call, looking over contracts or managing some kind of crisis that only she could solve. If he joined her on work trips it was by her invitation.

So he often found himself alone with her. Movie nights became a weekly ritual, usually late in the week, and every week they seemed to sit a little closer to each other than before.

One night she fell asleep against him. His arm was around the back of the sofa and her head gently fell against his chest.

He wasn’t sure what to do, if he should wake her, but she looked so peaceful with her eyes closed, lips parted and breath fluttering down the collar of his t-shirt. Her body was warm and she was wearing that same citrusy perfume. 

He wanted to keep her there. He could lie down, hold her in his arms and fall asleep pressed into her back.

Guilt told him otherwise. So he moved away from her, as carefully as he could, and guided her to lie fully on the sofa with a pillow under her head and a blanket draped over her body.

Alys came in from a dinner sometime after 1am and slipped wordlessly into her side of the bed. Within minutes he could hear her gentle snores.

He closed his eyes but he didn’t sleep. All he could think about was her breath on his chest, the way her shorts had ridden up her thighs, and that fucking perfume. 

He was probably just tired, getting excited by some old crush which he was way past by now. He was sure he would forget about it by the morning.

If only it had ended there.

By the time spring came around she had warmed up to him. They spent Sunday mornings drinking coffee together in the garden and went for drives out to Blackwater Bay. They had inside jokes and talked about their families. Some nights she’d come crying to him over uni, arguments with her mother and a stupid boy who broke her heart. She was so pretty when she cried.

When she asked him to help her with a particular exam he couldn’t help himself. He noticed everything about their study sessions together, the way she shuddered when he put a hand on her shoulder, the way her breath hitched when he praised her.

His heart swelled when she came home from that exam with a wide smile, throwing herself into his arms and telling him all the details she could remember. Her eyes were so bright and gazing up at him almost adoringly. 

He was so happy for her, and so proud.

She didn’t pull away when he kissed her. She met him with soft touches to his neck and a hummed whimper that threatened to spark something primal in him. 

They smiled at each other when it was over, until the haze started to wear off. He cleared his throat, and muttered that he still had work to do. She nodded but they kept staring at each other, his hands on her waist and hers drifting down from his neck to his chest.

She was the first to step away. He watched her disappear through the door and wondered how he had managed to make such a mess of his life.

For the entirety of the next week he couldn’t get that muffled whimper out of his head.

Every time he saw her he wanted to drag her into him and kiss her again, harsher, hungrier, with his hands tracing over every inch of her body. 

He told himself he was being stupid and he just needed an outlet. For the most part, he and Alys doing well together, but on the few occasions they actually fucked he found the novelty of being beneath her was starting to wear off. 

Frustratingly, everything else seemed to be working well for him. He was good at his job; working for Rivers PR was certainly helping to distract him from his family and the company was thriving. He didn’t have to put up with his parents and the Rivers girls seemed happy enough to have him around. The only problem left was him.

In June Alys was accompanying a client on a trip to Dorne, a few days in Salt Shore, Lemonwood and then a week in Sunspear. Aemond wasn’t sure if he was elated or dreading her absence. Every time he’d been around her lately he held his breath, waiting for her to realise something was wrong.

She remained perfectly normal though. Her exams were finished and she had an internship at Lion Publishing lined up for the month of August. In the meantime she was living life as she pleased, lunch dates and picnics in the park with her friends, but she spent a lot of time at home too, mostly reading or writing in a leatherbound notebook.

The kiss was a mistake. A stupid mistake. He kept looking for a chance to talk to her, but decided it might be best until Alys was away.

Alys’ flight was due on a Friday evening and he dropped her off in the afternoon. They sat in silence for most of the journey but silence wasn’t a rarity for them.

When they reached the airport they both went to take the bags out the boot.

“I’m a big girl, I can manage,” she said dryly, but that was just her sense of humour. 

“I don’t doubt it,” he said.

She set her suitcase by her side and slipped her arm through her Prada tote bag. “The two of you can look after yourselves well enough,” she said, fussing with the collar of her blouse. “I don’t need to tell you not to answer the door to strangers or anything?”

He smiled unenthusiastically. “No.”

With her eyes one the pavement, she brought her fingers to the styled waves of her hair, bringing a few tresses over her shoulder.

“She’s fond of you,” she said. “I know I can’t always be there for her when she needs me, but I know you helped her with that exam and I appreciate it.” There was no sign of shortness or irritation like there usually was when she spoke about anything remotely personal. She was being sincere and it just made him feel worse.

“Don’t mention it,” he said.

She shrugged her shoulders and the businesswoman was back. “Right then. I’d give you a kiss goodbye but I have lipstick on.”

How devastatingly practical, as always. She threw an arm around his shoulder and he pecked her cheek before she headed for the terminal, quickly and gracefully, heels clicking against the ground. 

He had plans to meet Helaena for dinner at a restaurant in central. With her mother out the way, she had invited a few friends to celebrate the end of exams and he figured she’d appreciate the space.

He didn’t realise how much he missed not living with his sister until he saw her. That was the downside of the new circumstances, he never got to see his siblings as much as he wanted to.

Helaena asked him about Alys and her, how they were dealing with Harwin still in the hospital. He told her the truth, they didn’t really talk about it much, but by that point it was a matter of waiting for the inevitable.

Apparently Rhaenyra was a mess. She would be. Her husband was dying, she had three kids to look after and Harrenhal PR was falling to pieces now that Larys was in charge and Alys had poached half of their best clients.

Helaena was exhausted. She was getting ready to start a PhD in Highgarden and she should have been excited, but she hardly had the wherewithal to think about it with Alicent and Viserys’ constant rowing. At least Daeron would be back in a few more days so she wouldn’t be the only child at the house.

“Are you coming to Dragonstone this year?” she asked.

He took a telling breath through his nose and finished off his glass of wine.

“Aemond, please, it won’t be the same without you.”

He scoffed. “No one wants me there.”

She frowned at him with those sad blue eyes of hers. “Don’t say that.”

“Did you know mum hasn’t called me once since I left? It’s been five months. Do you really think I can just show up and we’ll play happy families then go back to hating each other when we get home?”

Her face twisted like she might start crying. 

“Sorry I just–” he held his forehead in his hands and dragged them back over his hair. He didn’t want to think about Dragonstone, it just made him think of her.

He felt her hand gently take his wrist and guide it down to the table so she could see his face. 

“What’s up with you?” she asked.

“Nothing. I’m just tired.”

She raised her eyebrows and hummed like she didn’t believe him.

It wasn’t long after 10pm when he got back to the house. He heard voices and giggles in the front lounge. He walked softly through the hallway and slowed when he came to the door.

“... that’s always been a fantasy of mine.”

“Jo, you’re sick.”

“Oh step-daddy!”

Laughter followed, with a few disbelieving sighs. He recognised her laugh, and made out two other distinct voices. He guessed they hadn’t heard him come in.

“Is he hot though?”

He listened for a reply but she stayed quiet.

“Oh come on! I bet you’ve thought about it.”

“No.” She said it so simply he almost believed her. 

He moved through to the kitchen intending to get some water. There were two empty pizza boxes and an assortment of empty wine bottles on the kitchen island. He went to clean them up when the door opened.

“Hi,” she said softly. Her face was dewy and a little flushed. “I didn’t hear the door.”

“I only just got in,” he said, “don’t worry I didn’t hear anything incriminating.”

She tilted her head at him with a slightly dazed smile. She looked gorgeous and the pair of jeans she wore fit her perfectly. 

She refilled the glasses from a new bottle and nodded to an empty glass on the counter. “Do you want to join us?”

“Only if you want me to.”

“I wouldn’t have asked otherwise,” she said.

He followed her through to the lounge, bringing the glass and the bottle with him. 

Before he opened the door she leaned into him and whispered, “don’t worry, Margarey has work tomorrow and Jo’s waiting for her boyfriend so they won’t stay long.”

Margaery and Joanna were effortlessly charming but he distrusted them for being law students. They both grinned when he sat on the sofa by the window and were eager to ask him about his time in Oldtown and his job.

Joanna kept glancing over to her, but she remained unphased until Margarey mentioned Targ Corp. Her face slowly fell in irritation. He found it quite endearing.

“So why did you leave?” Joanna asked, “it was something to do with Viserys’ will, right?”

“It’s none of your business, is it?” she said shortly.

Aemond gave her a quick smile to let her know it was alright and she settled back to contentment.  

Just as she said, they were both gone before midnight. She saw them to the door and when she came back to the lounge she fell beside him with her legs against his and her head on his shoulder.

“Did you have a nice evening?” he asked. If he turned his head just a little further his lips would brush against her temple.

“Really lovely,” she sighed.

He considered asking about the kiss, but she was definitely tipsy and just sitting with her was too peaceful. He couldn’t bring himself to disturb the moment and the sound of her breathing. 

Her fingers began to trace up over the fabric of his shirt, up and down over his stomach and the lines of his abs underneath.

He put his hand over hers to stop her, but somehow it only seemed to spur his own want. He closed his hand around her, tracing his thumb over her knuckles.

She shifted her head so she was looking at him and her breath echoed over his neck. 

She leaned in first. Their lips met with gentle grazes, just feeling each other and breathing the same air. 

Gradually they deepened their movements. Her tongue slipped into his mouth and he melted at her softness and her warmth. He cupped her jaw to pull her into him despite the gnawing feeling in his chest, like he was getting too close, like he could never get close enough.

She started to move and he tried to keep hold of her, expecting her to slip from his grasp, until he felt her weight on his lap. She straddled him, wrapping her hands around the sides of his neck and threading her fingers through his hair. She gave him another dazed little smile before she continued to kiss him fiercely, desperately.

It was a bad idea. It was such a bad idea, but for now he would take the guilt if he got to feel her like this, her lips trailing along his jaw and down his neck, her heavy breaths and whimpers as she started to rock her hips against him.

He reached to take hold of her hips, moving with her at first before he set a new, steadier pace, dragging her against the tightening bulge in his jeans. “You alright there, pet?” he hummed.

She nudged her forehead against his. “Please can you just…” her eyes followed her hands as she propped herself against his chest. 

“What do you want, baby?” he whispered.

She let out a whine that went straight to his cock.

“Come on,” he hissed, “talk to me.”

She clenched her fists to tug at his shirt. “I want you,” she breathed.

He strained an exhale as he tried to stop his hips from bucking into her. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” he said with a groan, but he was already trying to rationalise it.

She could be the outlet, just once, just to get it out of his system. 

“No it’s not, but I still want you,” she said.

Or maybe it didn’t have to be about him. He could just give her what she needed.

“Please,” she whined trying to fight against his hold on her hips, “I want you so bad, it fucking hurts.”

“Oh you poor thing,” he cooed, moving his face down to tease the skin of her throat with his lips and tongue. 

He knew they were on the cusp of something dangerous and damning, but it was her, the girl from that summer, the girl with the pretty smile and the curious look in her eyes, Alys’ daughter. 

When he looked up to her face her eyes were wide and pleading.

Maybe he felt he owed it to a younger version of himself, or maybe it was the wine he’d had at the restaurant but he couldn’t bring himself to care about the consequences. 

He pressed his palm against her stomach, feeling her body tremble and her quick, shallow breaths. He trailed lower to undo the buttons on her jeans. “Take these off for me,” he muttered.

She didn’t hesitate to follow his instruction. She drew the jeans down her legs, leaving her in her top and a black thong. He told her to straddle him again, which she did. 

With firm but gentle hands he felt along the bare flesh of her thighs and her ass, positioning her over his thigh. He pulled the thong against her until she was squirming and trying to rut against his jeans.

He chuckled softly to himself and held her waist tightly to keep her still, and she followed the silent instruction so well. She was panting, leaning in closer to him, but waiting for his lead. He was slightly scared of how much he loved it.

He brought his hand to her cheek, stroking and toying with her bottom lip. “Do you want to be good for me?” he whispered.

She hummed her agreement. 

“Fuck yourself against my thigh, pretty girl, show me how desperate you are.”

With a small nod she started to move, letting out little moans when her clothed clit rolled against his leg.

He kept her movements slow, even when she tried to fight against him and go faster.

“No,” he said, “be a good girl for me, do as you’re told.”

The pace was agonising for her, eyes screwed shut and jaw hung open as her hands got restless, running over his jaw, his neck and into his hair.

He kept her steady and pressed her down against his jeans with each drag of her hips, playing with the change in pressure and smiling at the way it made her whine and her eyes water.

“Aemond… I need more…”

He still kept the movements nice and slow. “Just let it happen– there you go, good fucking girl.”

She didn’t hold back her moans as her climax hit her, tensing hard and falling into him. He kept her moving through it, until her thighs were shaking and she begged him to stop.

He was sure he’d never been so hard in his life, but he held her there, breathing in the smell of her hair and her perfume.

Then he brought her away from him so he could see her face, beautifully blissed out. There was that light, hopeful feeling in his chest, but it was starting to crumble under the realisation of what they’d done.

“Is that actually a thing, the step-daddy thing?” he asked.

She huffed a breathy laugh. “According to Jo it is. Why, do you want me to call you daddy?”

He wouldn’t admit it then, but he liked the way it sounded coming from her.

General Taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy

Series Taglist: @marthawrites @urmomsgirlfriend1 @aaaaaamond @boundlessfantasy @sahvlran @tinykryptonitewerewolf @arcielee @tssf-imagines @aemondsfavouritebastard @skikikikiikhhjuuh @queenofshinigamis @lost-and-founds @izzydlb @dc-marvel-girl96 @xcinnamonmalfoyx @padfooteyes @castellomargot @pet1t3 @okfashionista @khaothick

[satureja13]

Cloudy sky above Verdantis this morning. Before Greg leaves, he gathered the Boys at the duelling grounds. And since Jack is the Super Soldier (and has a few genetic modifications), he's the perfect sparring partner/training dummy for Vlad, Saiwa and Jeb. Ji Ho and Kiyoshi don't fight today since they are still not in shape. Vlad and Jack started. The classic - Vampire vs Werewolf.

It's not about winning. Jack can defeat anyone, except for Greg and Kiyoshi. But since Kiyoshi isn't Jack's Alpha anymore, Jack should win a fight against Kiyoshi too. So today it's about teaching the others how to fight, should they be in danger.

Next pairing is Saiwa and Jack. Again the classic (+ 1\2 Dark Elf). Saiwa: "Oh - I've been waiting for a chance like this since - forever!" Jeb can't bear Saiwa getting hurt and has to look the other way.

Even though Sai loves Jack dearly, he often wishes he could smack him for his endless nonsense. Usually Jack runs away and Sai could never hit him, but he hopes he can land a few punches before Jack ends the fight ^^' Jack seemed to know that and let him, lol. Poor Jeb was so worried about his Vanië, though.

And then Jack vs Jeb - Werewolf vs Witch. It was Jeb's first fight! Saiwa was about to faint, seeing Jeb fighting. It looks so rough! Is Jeb even able to breathe?

Oh oh, Jeb isn't used to fighting and so he got a bit dizzy from all this tumbling and turning - and stumbled to the ground! Jack: "Omg, Jeb! Are you ok?" Sai: "I'm going to kill you for this, Jack!"

But Jeb almost immediately jumped up again - phew! That was embarrasing o.o' He so wanted to look cool in front of Saiwa - poor Jack didn't even do anything wrong! After the fights, they were discussing what they could do better and how to proceed training without Greg (since none of the professors can remain beyond the Veil for too long). Greg wants to see Noxee as soon as possible to make the most of their time together before she has to pay the old hags the three witches a visit to discuss Jack and Kiyoshi. And when Greg finally left, poor Jack collapsed on one of the loungers. The fights took their toll on him. Jack tried to keep his composure for as long as possible to not have to argue with Greg about the state he's in. His body is still constantly under pain from the last spot and he feels horrible since that lightning struck him. Noxee's potion didn't help at all and of course he didn't go back to her to whine because he doesn't want her to think he's a weakling... (Omg, Jack!) And he's afraid she's going to tell Greg about it ö.Ö' Jack surely doesn't need another talk with Greg. Even though Kiyoshi drifted away again after Ms Coombes forbid them to hang out together, he was immediately at Jack's side to heal him. Jack won all the fights, but none of the others needed a treatment. He'd gone easy on his friends. Which was an achievement for itself. Not many werewolves have that much control over their wolf - in a fight at that.

Saiwa blinked upwards. He has to hold back tears and already regrets that he hit Jack 😭 And Jeb wants to embrace and comfort Sai, but he's not sure if he would allow it...

Eventually Jack woke up and cursed under his breath. He doesn't want to appear weak in front of Kiyoshi either. And he doesn't want Kiyoshi to see him in his wolf... (Which is stupid, since Kiyoshi made very clear that he likes Jack in both of his forms.)

'And then we lie, beneath a shady tree I love her and she's loving me She feels good, she knows she's looking fine I'm so proud to know that she is mine'

Good day sunshine - The Beatles

Outtakes

I built this lot many years ago and had to laugh when I spotted that mannequin I placed behind the divider ^^'

And Ji Ho is curious what these ointments and potions are for :3

From the Beginning 🔱 Underwater Love 🔱 Latest

Current Chapter: 'Here comes the Sun' from the beginning ▶️ here Last Chapter: 'Who killed Jack?' from the beginning ▶️ here

📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 23-28

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Here's a sprawling 1951 mid-century modern in Long Beach, California that's been upgraded, but the majority of the home is original. 4bds, 4ba, $3.4M + $10mo. HOA fee.

This home was custom built, and I've never seen an entrance like this.

That's some large corner fireplace. Look at how the mantle continues clear around the wall.

I do like an MCM with an indoor garden. This one has a little stone path that you can take into the kitchen.

The kitchen is very compact and the cabinets have been replaced.

Check it out- a white AGA stove. That is amazing, b/c this particular model costs about $23,000.

The dining area is very large and would accommodate a much larger table.

Small sitting area behind the outdoor kitchen.

Connecting hall along the pool has some storage along wall.

More wraparound shelving.

Lovely corner to relax and read in.

The hall from the front door as a little stone curb area, plus a closet in the wall.

Here's a nice home office. These windows have shades.

In the principle bedroom, I see an overhang, but no shades.

Nicely updated bath. I like the sink they chose.

This is a very nice remodel, too.

Great rec room and entertaining space with a bar.

It has a beautiful pool that looks like it's been upgraded, plus a nice large covered patio.

Look how the loungers go into the shallow end of the pool.

The lot size is .31 acre, but from above the homes looks very close together. In fact, this on looks like it fits in kitty corner.

[larcenywrites]

i'm so glad your requests are open!!! so, i would like to request a drunken love confession with tony (young or not, you decide) and female reader, they're at a party or something and tony drunkenly says that he loves her, she returns of course, they make love and stay together forever ❤️ unprotected sex since i'm crazy about breeding kink and especially with him, can you blame me?

I had so much trouble deciding between young or older Tony 🥲 I went with older, though! I swear this started off as being at a party, and somehow it morphed into just- finding a sad drunk Tony at his home instead ☹️ but he won't be sad for long! also dw everything I do is unprotected unless I’m asked

Drunken Confessions

Tony Stark x fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ | unprotected p in v | mentions of alcohol/inebriation (No sex under the influence) | afab reader |

Word Count: 6K

A/N: ugh, sorry it took so long! It went through three different plots, young and older Tony, the smut took forever because I couldn't find my usual groove, these last weeks of school are crazy busy, and then somehow it became 6k words 🤧

Parties are fun and all, but not when you attend for the one person that doesn't show up! Not that you disliked your other friends, but they didn't make your chees blush and heart flutter, though the drink just might! And it just might be driving you to his house, too. His absence was far from normal (and always boring), but he hadn't even told anyone, and you knew he wasn't busy. Perhaps it was silly, but love made you do crazy things sometimes (and alcohol). He'd probably do the same thing for you. Besides, who else would check up on him?

You removed your growingly uncomfortable shoes, placing them by the door and wandering the cold wooden floor, much quieter now without the click-clack of those heels. Tony was nowhere in sight, but-

"Mr. Stark is upstairs," the voice of his AI assistant nearly echoed through the dimly lit house, "on the balcony."

"Thank you," you replied a bit awkwardly. You carefully made your way up the stairs, already noticing brighter lights from the hall ahead and reaching the left-open sliding glass door. Stepping out onto the balcony, you quickly noticed the nearby row of lounger chairs, and their single occupant.

He didn't acknowledge your presence, but you wouldn't have made it past the gate without his say-so. You stepped into the space between the two chairs, observing the scenery while you debated on taking a seat. And no, not the scenery of the night sky. Next to him was a nearly empty bottle of bourbon that you were sure was full this morning. Well, it might as well be empty. There probably wasn't even enough to fill a quarter of the lowball glass in his hand, but that wasn't exactly the first thing your eyes took an interest in, nor the most interesting thing here. You tried not to linger too long on the shirtless man before you, only clad in a black pair of sweatpants and a pair of dark sunglasses. This already looked like a much funner scene than the one you just left. 

He finally turned, cheek pressed to his shoulder and focus staring straight ahead rather than... up where your eyes were. You couldn't see his eyes, but you could imagine that drunken gaze drifting over you... or probably needing a moment to register that you were actually there. When he finally looked up, his brow furrowed over those tinted rims. "What'd you come here for?" 

You had to hold back a laugh behind your pursed-lipped smile at his genuine confusion. That tinted stare followed along as you lowered into the seat next to him, making sure to hold your dress as you went. You relaxed back into the dark cushion before turning to him "I was just," you started with a shrug, keeping your tone quiet as if it would interrupt the serenity he'd built here. You sighed to yourself, deciding to withhold your statement of worry. "I didn't see you at the party tonight," you went with instead, staring into those dark-tinted lenses and unable to get any read on him. Not now that his confusion had faded back into that straight-faced expression and his eyes were still so hidden, but you had to admit that it was easier to stare into those mocha lenses than into those mocha eyes. He finally gave you a teasing smile.

"Did you want to see me?" He asked, tone almost as smooth as always and lopsided grin growing when you momentarily looked away with a shy smile. "It's just not like you to miss out," you evaded his question with your earlier worry, turning back to him with a sympathetic smile and inquisitive eyes that wiped that flirty smile into a discouraged pout. 

"Who said I'm missing out?" He sassed, lifting the glass from his chest and tipping it towards you in an up-and-down motion as if to prove his point. You got a little nervous that that dark liquid was about to spill over its glass' rim, but he quickly saved it when he brought it back upright and pressed it to his lips. Well, it was aimed a little too high against his parted lips that were searching for the rim. You kept your smile soft and tried not to laugh at his drunken struggle. Instead, you replied to his rhetorical question. "Drinking alone's no fun." 

"Glasses are in the kitchen," he said matter-of-factly, mumbling against the glass and lifting a heavy arm. A pointed finger twirled around a few times before finally directing you to the glass doors behind him. "If it matters that much." He turned back toward the horizon nearly hidden by the night's darkness and flushed out by the warm light flooding through the windows behind you. He finally lowered the glass a little and found its opening, taking a swift sip and resting it on his chest once again. You couldn't help but catch your attention on his lips, watching his tongue lick over them and linger on his bottom lip. His eyes were barely visible now that he was turned away, and sunglasses starting to slide down his nose a bit. They were distant and staring at nothing, far from the usual drunken glaze you were used to seeing, usually lively and crinkled from his playful smile when he toyed with your emotions or full of mischief when he was getting a little rowdy, just as when he wasn't drinking. It was odd to see him like this, and you weren't sure if it was simply the bourbon to blame. 

"Have you been here all night?" You asked quietly. A dumb question, admittedly, but as upsetting as the thought of him being here alone all night like this was, you wanted to know. His head flopped rather dramatically onto his shoulder to look at you again. A raised brow seemed to confirm that your question was, in fact, dumb. 

"I usually am?" It was almost sarcastic, if not for the return of that innocent confusion. "I live here."

You chuckled, shaking your head at him. "I mean, out here," you emphasized, shrugging your shoulder as if to point at him. You rolled onto your side, glancing back at the bottle sitting next to him on the ground and trying not to look at anything other than the glass resting on his bare chest. "Like this," your voice held gentle concern as you settled back into his undercover stare. 

"Are you always this nosey?" That sass came back in full force. "Surely I'm not that interesting." He turned away again, bringing the glass back to his lips. You watched him take another drink, trying not to let your smile fade. It wasn't that you were upset that he was being a bit snappy with you, but rather that he was snappy at all. This wasn't like him, especially not with you, unless something had gone wrong. Or something was eating away at him. Enough to keep him here on what was normally a fun Saturday night where he'd be drinking with you instead of alone. But you weren't sure what position you were in to pry into his personal problems. "Interesting enough for me to be here at one in the morning," you countered him with a smooth attempt at flattering him, but he still wasn't having it. That now nearly empty glass rested on his chest again. "Must have been a lame party." 

Those tinted frames taunted you. Pretending to keep up an unbothered state, and hiding those pretty brown eyes that you would much rather be staring into now. He didn't seem to react when you reached out to him, carefully grabbing at the end of one of the lenses resting over his cheek and sliding the pair down his nose. That whiskey gaze was already settled on you with a tired interest, flicking around as if to study the features of your face now that it wasn't so obstructed. You folded the arms in and laid the expensive pair of shades beneath your chair for safekeeping. Maybe it was with the knowledge of his intoxication, but it was suddenly easier to hold his gaze, even when he was staring back. This time your smile was happier, and a tease played on your lips. "Would it be lame to say it wasn't as fun without you?"

A smile finally played at the corner of his mouth, but only for a moment. He quickly looked down as it faded and turned away from you again. "You can't say stuff like that," he said lowly, discouraged almost, staring into his whiskey glass. The leap in your chest at seeing him smile dropped. As much as you wanted to ask, you knew he wouldn't elaborate. Instead you resorted to what anyone would say after causing such a cute face to frown. "I'm sorry."

"No, I-" He jumped at your apology, pausing when he looked at you. He was alert with a sobering panic, searching your eyes for his words. He finally sighed. "I just don't think that means what I..." He trailed off meekly, looking down in defeat and turning back to the glass in his hands, swirling the dark liquor around as if seeing how much was left, or deciding whether or not to finish it off. Something pulled at your heart, but was chasing after it while he was in such a state advantageous? Would you be pushing him somewhere by mistake when he was simply just... drunk?

Would he remember it anyway? Maybe it wouldn't be a bad thing if he didn't.

"What do you want it to mean?" You asked tentatively. He didn't immediately answer, chest rising and falling in a silent sigh. He finished off the last of that liquid courage, hopefully with the intention of putting it to use. 

"Maybe I," he started, stopping himself again when he made the mistake of locking eyes, "want it to mean more," he continued with an already defeated tone, glancing down. He never had this much trouble holding attention, even on jittery days. You watched that contemplating pointer finger circle around the glass' rim.  

 "Maybe I want something more, and-" he started to add, but a heavy sigh stopped him again. "I'm just some drunk asshole on his balcony," he finished with a low rumble instead, saying it as if realizing something disappointing. 

"You're not an asshole," you quickly came to his support, but he was always quick with his retorts. 

"Not to you," he corrected, tipping the this-time-empty glass at you again. He glanced down with a thoughtful hum and pointed a finger to the sky. The glass tipped in his direction now with his corrective motion. "Usually." 

You huffed, admittedly amused but not necessarily happy with his answer. His eyes flicked back up, but not to focus on you. Instead, focusing on the bottom of his glass as if looking in and wondering why it was empty. As much as you would love to keep watching the silly sight, he was in no state for you to be stirring his emotions. You, yourself, were no stranger to it, and it was hard enough to handle sober. 

"Okay, maybe that's enough for tonight," you interrupted with an obvious smile in your voice, moving to sit up. You softly rested a hand on his when he grabbed the nearly empty bottle at his side. He didn't argue when you took the glass from his other hand, focused on your touch. 

"Well it's all gone anyway, so," he mumbled, slightly tipping the bottle onto its side. As you can imagine, he was proven wrong by the stream of bourbon spilling onto the dark wood of the deck. The puddle it left behind wasn't too big, at least. "I guess there was a little left," he commented apologetically. You wrapped your fingers around the neck of the bottle and carefully pulled it from his hand. He watched as you stood up, looking up at you helplessly.

"Hold on," you said softly before making your way to the door. The lights in the kitchen were dimmed, but brightening them felt like another disturbance of the peace. You set the bottle and its glass companion in the deep sink to be dealt with later. You twisted the faucet until you found the warm water and grabbed a neatly folded rag that was already nearby. 

With that partially dampened cloth in hand, you made your way back outside. Tony perked up as soon as you returned, arms now folded over his stomach and legs drawn up. You lowered to your knees and quickly began to wipe up that spilled alcohol. 

"You don't have to do that."

"It's fine," you reassured him. "I don't want it to stain."

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "You always fix my fuck-ups."

You chuckled, turning your head. His eyes were wide and atoning. You wanted nothing more than to reach out again. "I promise it's not a big deal," you reassured him again. Your soft smile turned into a sly grin. "Maybe I like fixing your fuck-ups," you said flirtingly, wiping over the damp spot on the floor one more time. He turned away from you with a low whine and a pout. "I told you not to do that."

"Do what, Tony?"

"Act like you love me back," he mumbled sadly. 

He didn't see your shy smile until you carefully cupped your hand under his jaw, coaxing him to look at you again. He wasn't budging other than to side-eye you. "What if I do?" 

"Then you probably shouldn't." His eyes shifted away again. "You don't deserve me." You were pretty sure you knew what he actually meant, given that self-depreciative attitude and defeated tone, but it had your heart dropping regardless. Within seconds he was facing you with panicked eyes.

"Wait- I didn't mean it like that, like-" he stumbled over his words to correct himself, "you deserve better." You couldn't say you preferred hearing it that way, either. Maybe you shouldn't have led him here in this state after all. "Okay, maybe you should get in bed," you softly suggested, starting to stand from your kneeled position and taking your hand from his face. 

"I'm sorry, are you mad?" He had that helpless look on his face again when you looked down at him. "I promise I didn't mean it like that." 

"I kno-"

"I swear I really do love you," he reiterated desperately. You giggled, bringing your hand to his cheek and rubbing your thumb over his cheekbone. How does that saying go again? Something like 'a drunk mind tells the heart's truth'? You can never remember, but you were sure he was telling the truth.

"I know," you repeated, this time without being interrupted. "I just think you need to go lay down." 

"But you just got here," he practically whimpered. You had to resist the urge to kiss that cute face and its subtle blush barely visible in the dim lighting. "I didn't say I was leaving yet," you cooed. "Come on." You took your hand from his face and offered it for him to take, not knowing if he needed something to hold onto. He seemed to hesitate, staring at your outstretched palm for a few seconds before finally moving. He cautiously took your hand and pivoted your way. With his feet on the ground and his other hand gripping the chair, you patiently watched over him as he stood. He looked down at you once he did, hand still in yours. You swallowed nervously and wrapped your helping hand around his bicep. From there, his slow stumble and your patient guidance finally led the two of you back into the house. As many odd situations as you've gotten yourself into here, you couldn't say that one of them was leading a sulking and inebriated Tony (who was attempting to profess his love while shirtless, at that) into his dimly lit bedroom. And thank god you didn't have to wrestle him up any stairs. 

"Is that okay?" He asked it as if he was continuing a conversation that had been going on this whole time. "Is what okay?" You kept your hold on his arm as he sat on the edge of the bed. You could almost sigh in relief, but your heart sped up again when he looked up at you. "That I love you," he mumbled again. "Does that make things weird?" He sounded like he'd already gotten his answer, and that answer had been bad. Even an empathetic smile and your palm returning to his cheek didn't soften that disparagement. "No," you reassured him, "In fact, I think it's sweet." At that, a goofy smile tugged at his lips, and you once again had to resist that kissable face that leaned into your touch. "But I still think you should get some sleep." Tony didn't agree, his eyes shut with a frown and a pitiful whine. "Are you leaving?" 

You couldn't help but laugh a little. "Do you want me to stay?"

"Kinda," he admitted shyly. "I kinda want you to sleep with me," he added, still just as innocent. You couldn't hide the humored grin on your face, especially when his brow furrowed and his eyes cracked open. "Wait, not like that, I- like," he stumbled over his thoughts again. "I meant like next to me," he closed his eyes again, confusion still in his expression. "I'm sorry." His head flopped limply against your palm. You let out the giggle you'd been holding in, carefully pressing your lips to his temple as you finally failed at your attempts to not kiss him. When you pulled back, the eyes looking up at you again were perkier. 

"Give me a few minutes," you promised, still needing to do something with the damp rag in your other hand, and now you had to figure out how to get out of this dress. You left him hunched over at the edge of the bed, hoping he could figure out the rest on his own (and hopefully wouldn't manage to undress himself while you were gone). Unfortunately, you had to wrestle yourself down those stairs again and back into the kitchen. After washing the rag under the faucet and filling that empty glass with warm water, you quickly made your way back upstairs after flicking off the lights. Actually, you backtracked at that first step, deicing to grab a bottle of water from the fridge to keep on his nightstand. 

Luckily it seemed that Tony had figured it out... mostly. He wasn't under the covers, but he was sprawled out, seemingly comfortable enough, on his stomach and with arms around his pillow. You had half a mind to curl up with him had he not been drinking so much. Instead, you quietly made your way into his closet. Surely he wouldn't mind if you swiped that cute pink button-up for the night, and with it being a little long, maybe you could get away without raiding through his dresser. After struggling with the zipper on your back and fumbling with the ivory-colored buttons of his shirt, you decided just that. You neatly hung your dress on the same clothes hanger you'd just stolen from and hooked it over the top of the door. Exhaustion finally caught up to you when you carefully sat on the bed, trying not to disturb your new bedmate as you tucked in next to him. 

It wasn't your companion that woke you up, nor the morning sunlight that struggled to find its way through the temporarily tinted windows, but the dryness in your mouth from last night's drinking and the mild headache that was more annoying for its persistence than its pain. Your eyes opened to the sleeping form still on his side of the bed. At some point, he must have finally managed to crawl under the blankets. Tony was turned away from you, this time on his side. You weren't sure if he even knew or remembered that you were here, or maybe that was why he turned away. 

Your headache made you realize that you probably should've laid some medicine out for him (and for you), but you couldn't begin to guess where it might be or if he even owned painkillers. You stretched out while taking the opportunity to ogle his strong shoulders and back. As much as you would've liked to stay like this, the dryness in your throat was only worsening the longer you lay around, and you weren't sure that you wanted to deal with the awkwardness that would surely follow once he woke up in bed with you. So, after working up the willpower for another minute, you finally stepped onto the chilly hardwood floor with only some regret. That then became moderate when you found yourself standing at the top of the stairs. With a sigh and your arms crossed over your chest, you again worked up the willpower to descend. 

You didn't bother with the switch on the wall when you made your way back into the kitchen, filled with the natural morning light. You knew he wouldn't hear it, but you opened the refrigerator as quietly as you could. There was always a peace here that you hated to interrupt. You took another bottle of water, this time for yourself, and took a few coldly burning sips. 

It wasn't long before heavy footfalls echoed from the stairs, and thankfully they sounded much more coordinated than last night. You watched a still half-nude Tony make his way toward you, joggers sitting teasingly low around his hips to add to the attractive sight. You felt better about admiring him now that he wasn't so inebriated. That, and he was too busy rubbing sleep from his eyes to notice your stare. His bottle joined yours on the counter when he approached. You leaned against the cold marble. "Do you feel okay?" You asked quietly, sliding in a little closer. "You sounded like you had a few too many last night," you joked a bit nervously, afraid that was simply all it was or afraid he wouldn't remember at all. He huffed a laugh and thoughtfully glanced away with a small smile. "Yeah," he said quietly. Your heart dropped at the word, unwilling to press further. Tony did a lot of things when he was intoxicated, after all, but being a docile sap was a new one. You could only hope that it wasn't some one-off incident while he was sad and just sort of... got lost. Even when a hand found your arm and so tentatively slid down to your wrist, it took you a few seconds to react. You looked up at him, gaze just as tentative as his touch, and dark eyes just as soft as they searched the somber features of your face, and just as soft as the smile that fluttered your heart.

"But I'm not drunk this time," he said quietly, eyes quickly flicking over your body in that innocent way, simply observing. You smiled back at him in hopeful relief. "Listen, I," he started slowly, eyes searching yours again while he searched for his words, "I meant what I said last night." He swallowed nervously even when your grin grew wider, but even shakey confidence was still confidence. "I love you," he repeated last night's spiel. "Like, actually love you." You laughed a little and shyly looked down, but it must have only made him more antsy. 

"Like, 'share my whole life with you', love you," he reiterated, nervously babbling even with the drink out of his system. Perhaps to fill in for your silence and let you know he wasn't playing games for once. It was endearing, but that gaze drifting well below your eyes when you looked back up had less than sweet intentions, just now registering what you were wearing. He gave you a cute head tilt and a signature smug grin when his stare met yours again. That smoother tone and stronger confidence made their return. "Like, 'I could really get used to you in my shirt and no pants', love you." You giggled at the comment. Well, it was mostly romantic. The hand on your wrist finally slid into your hand. You followed along and slid your free one to his cheek. That smug grin softened, and he leaned into your touch with a short sigh. 

"I love you, too, Tony," you chimed back. "Like, 'I could get used to sleeping with you', love you," you teased, poking a little fun at his phrasing from last night. He turned into your hand with a huff, but that still shy smile kissed your palm. Your gaze couldn't help but wander down again, along with your hand on his cheek that now settled on his chest. It caught his attention, and his breath. "And I wouldn't mind getting used to this either," you added, biting your grin. Something behind those eyes shifted when you looked up at him, and their up-and-down glance was slower this time. A sly smile barely curled at the corner of his lips. "I was going to take you to dinner first," he started, seductive implication dripping in his tone, "hopefully in that dress you were wearing last night." 

"You still can," you sang. Boldly, you slid your hand further, feeling over the firmness behind his abs before twisting your fingers around one of the drawstrings of his pants. 

"Oh, I will," he quickly assured you before wrapping an arm around your back to pull you even closer. "But maybe we could skip ahead a little?" Who could resist that charming smirk and voice still deep with sleep? Now you wished you had stayed in bed just to wake up to it, but with the way his fingers dug into your waist and his eyes bore into yours, you were sure you'd get the opportunity again soon. You absentmindedly played with the waistband of his joggers. "What did you have in mind?"

He took his hand from yours and snuck it under that loose-fitting shirt. A warm palm trailed up your waist and hesitated over your ribcage. Your heart sped up when he pressed flush against you, the arm around you retreating to rest a hand on your hip before pinning you, back to the cool marble counter. Your now free hand drifted over his shoulder as he leaned in, and by the time you found the soft curls on the back of his neck, the smile on those plush lips ghosted against yours. "You better not make me go up those stairs again," you warned teasingly. A humored huff barely fanned over your lips before he finally closed that millimeter gap. His lips barely moved against yours, but were far from gentle with the pushing weight behind them. His grip flexed with the deepening tilt of his head, and drifted down when he pulled back with a barely noticeable lick that had your lips parting for more that never came.

Fingers teased and twirled at the lacy panties you were still wearing from your fancier fit from last night. Your nails dug into his abs in anticipation when you felt that well-fitted pair sliding down your thighs. Those soft lips lowered to your neck, skipping straight to teeth and sucking marks into your skin while using the lower angle to push your panties a little further until they could just drop down your legs and to the floor. Hands, somehow even more eager, gripped harshly at your now bare hips, dragging you impossibly close and grinding that obviously growing erection into you. The feeling alone had you gasping a moan and lolling your head to the side, whole body willing to go limp at a moment's notice. Teeth bit punishingly, or perhaps rewardingly, at your better accessible throat.

Your hands, displaced from their hold on his stomach, drifted up his neck and tangled in his dark hair, pulling him closer to encourage more of those wet kisses and harsh nips to your pulse. A hand slid between your thighs as he switched sides. Your leg raised against his to give him more room, and the last hand on your hip drifted to the back of your thigh. A warm palm cupped your mound, and rough fingers all too gently repeated a teasing trail from clit to slit.

One more quick nip to your jaw and those still wetted lips trailed along your cheek, making a b-line for yours. His touch pressed a little harder into your nub, rubbing circles with the help of the slick arousal he'd spread (and caused). There was a ghosting smirk at the corner of your mouth, and you could imagine it growing wider when you abruptly let out a whimperish that had been building with the quick pleasure in your core. Taking refuge in his neck, you tried not to interrupt by squeezing your legs together, focusing on digging your nails into his shoulders instead. The grip on the back of your thigh probably would've stopped you anyway… if the frustrating slowing of his fingers didn't, that is. You could already feel that buildup fading and teetering, but even with the weak way you tried to grind into his hand, you weren't granted any more of that perfect friction.

"What if I carry you up the stairs?" The teasing upturn of his voice was low next to your ear. Somehow he made such a simple question knee-buckling. At least you were well supported between him and the kitchen counter. In fact, you wouldn't mind if he wanted to take you here instead, but perhaps he was too gentlemanly for that… for your first time, at least. You sighed into his neck, unsure whether it was in weak laughter or a frustrated moan. "You might have to," you tease back. The answer was enough for him. Tony abruptly withdrew his hands from you, swiftly shifting to your side with a hand snaking to your back and the other eagerly hooking under your legs. Your arms tightened around his neck at suddenly being lifted, and you made sure to lean into him-- especially when he was stampeding up that dreaded staircase.

With the same eagered energy, you were dropped back-first onto his bed. He dropped with you, still halfway off the bed and only one knee clambering onto the mattress. Hands were drifting under your shirt again and his lips were back on yours in an instant. This time it was rougher, quicker. You could hardly keep up. His lips forced yours apart and his tongue barely poked at your lower lip, but as soon as you dared to tease yours back, he was pulling away. You gulped when he slid his pants to the floor, cock springing out and tip glistening with smeared precum. Instinctively, and with eyes flicking between him and his stroking hand, you started working at the first button of the long-sleeved shirt you wore to fully undress with him. He hummed in thought, affectionately tickling at your waist and looking down at you with a poorly hidden smug grin. "Keep it on," he chimed, "it's cute." With a slight blush, you watched with anticipation as he took his new place between your legs. With a few more strokes, he teased the warm head of his cock around your entrance, playing it over your clit until you were squirming against him and your legs were desperately spreading more. He finally pushed in, leaning over you with an arm at your side. Your hand flew to his arm, the muscles under your palm tense as you both sighed with relief. 

Those first thrusts were shallow, both of you feeling each other out, and thick length patiently stretching you out until you could take him further, and without that nagging burn. His perfectly tapered head was already digging right into your g-spot with ease, drawing a moan from you that was as steady and slow as his pace. Eyes closing and mouth agape, your hand rose to twist at the corner of the pillow, and your head rolled almost elegantly to the side. You relaxed into the gentle rock, pulsing tighter around his hard cock as if begging it deeper.

A staggering moan above you accompanied the sudden harshness in his grip. It drifted up your waist and over your wrist as the other left to grip into the sheets right beside you. You didn't even need to think about it when you felt fingers grazing over yours, instantly letting go of your hold on the cushion and letting him intertwine his hand with yours. With the loving handhold came a new angle, bodies pressing closer and cock slipping deeper. He instantly found that extra soft spot so close to your cervix, brushing fleeting twinges of bolting pleasure that were frustratingly far apart with the slow and nearly pull-out pace. 

You bit back the moan rising in your chest, but a whimper still tore its way through your throat when he finally bottomed out, grinding into your end with hips rotating against yours. Your lips parted again in a sigh that was quickly interrupted by lips frantically finding the corner of your mouth. You turned to meet him. His tongue was licking at your bottom lip again, and this time with the intention to continue. It tentatively took the opportunity of your already open mouth and slipped against yours, plush lips still working with yours. You once again found those soft curls on his neck, twirling and pulling a few strands around your fingers. 

You gasped into his mouth when he suddenly bucked into you with a powerful thrust. Followed by another. And another. His cock dragged deliciously against your g-spot at a sickeningly slow pace, but rammed harshly on its way back in to make up for it, and filled you out so completely. Your nails scratching down the rise and fall of his arching back sputtered his hips with the shiver it sent down his spine, stilling after each deep stroke. He still tasted a bit like that honeyed whiskey from last night, but once again, he denied you another taste. With one more hard kiss, he broke away from you. You tried to chase after the lips trailing over your cheek, but you were too late when they drifted into your neck. 

His hips stiffly pistoned faster as he cozied into you for leverage. He was heavy pressed on top of you and heavy inside you, practically pushing you up the bed a little with every thrust. The low groan muffled into your neck and fanning warmly over your pulse was the last little push you needed to finally reach the end of that climbing pleasure, quickly gushing through you and throbbing your walls around that hard cock. He hardly staggered, pumping into you with a haste greedy to keep you cumming so tight around him or with an impatience to join you. 

Your fingers threaded through his hair and your legs squirmed around him, and your cried moan was nearly knocked out of you when he pressed you into the mattress, and the hand in yours tightened its grip. One more hard thrust and he stilled, burying deep inside you with a hot throb that spilled hotter cum. Your lips were parted in a silent moan, but Tony's pleased grunts filled in for you. You tensed with another silent gasp when he shallowly fucked in and out of you again, desperately milking more from his orgasm. 

Wet kisses decorated your neck as he slowed to a stop again, still pressed as far as you could take him. You felt him finally relax against you, thumb rubbing reassuringly at your hand. Those same kisses making their way to your cheek convinced you to relax into the warmth of the aftermath with him. He carefully pecked your lips, smiling when you reciprocated with more force. Your smile grew with his, breathily giggling when he playfully nibbled your bottom lip and quickly pulled away to press one more kiss next to your nose. 

You watched him sit up, resisting the urge to chase after the hand leaving yours. You flinched at the feeling of him slipping out of you, now clenching around nothing and nearly shivering at the dripping mix of cum that followed him out. Tony sat at the edge of the bed, wrapping an arm around your thigh and planting a kiss on your knee. He rested his cheek where his lips had just been, looking down at you expectantly. "Would you like a shower or a bath?" 

You laughed. If you were still going out later, a shower might be more productive, but... "I really don't want to stand up," you admitted with a shy grin. With a laugh in his smile, he gave your leg another quick peck. 

"Bath it is."