#summer make good choices challenge

[etruatcaelum]

[ @utallige | salem from here // for summer ]

Her semblance slipped through her fingers like smoke, and Summer, flinching, shut her eyes. A frayed exhalation snagged behind her teeth. She lifted her shoulders, lifted her chin, and stepped around the corner.

If she were smarter, stronger—a better hero maybe—perhaps she would have come out swinging. But Sundered Rose wilted in her hand, axe-head slung low and slanted away from the witch. The diamond-hard conviction that drove her to Salem’s doorstep was splintering now, brittle.

She just wanted it to be done.

“Slow and agonizing isn’t really my speed,” Summer said, voice fried. Silver eyes met crimson, unblinking. “Salem. I assume.” A breath. “I’m Summer. I—” She’d imagined a monstrosity, a behemoth, an grimm so ancient it had grown into a twisted mockery of its prey. Not… this. Her grip on the battle-axe tightened. “–I came here to stop you.”

[thetriumphantpanda]

you'll just have to taste me | joel miller

Summary | He knows he's no good, knows it's a bad idea, you're out of bounds and should stay that way, but it's okay to test the waters, right?

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Word Count | 1.7K

Warnings | this is literally 1.7k of utter filth, you've been warned, it's nasty, I told you, okay? Unspecified age gap, Joel is your dad's buddy and Sarah is your friend. Joel fights with his morals but the pussy is too good. Explicit smut, JUST THE TIP, unprotected PiV, cumshot, cum eating, spit play, dirty talk, Joel talks you through it. No outbreak au, no use of Y/N.

Authors Note | I AM SO INCREDIBLY LATE TO POST THIS, but this is my entry to @hellishjoel's HOT DILF SUMMER CHALLENGE. I know it's September and this was not my original idea, but it came to me and I wrote this in less than an hour. It's filth and it's nasty and I beg you not to judge me okay? Written and edited on my phone so forgive any mistakes.

Divider by @saradika

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

He’s going to hell. He’s always known it. Despite the years of his parents putting him in his Sunday best and taking him to church each week with his brother, despite his upbringing and the way he’s always tried to be the perfect southern gentleman, Joel Miller is going to hell, and the evidence in right in front of him.

You. His buddy’s daughter. His own daughter’s friend. The bane of his existence for the whole damn summer, with your short dresses and flirty eyes and the way you make him laugh and the way he’s wanted you since you waltzed back into town, masters degree under arm, with one purpose which seemed to be to turn him on at every possible opportunity.

It’s been bubbling for weeks. You’d caught him in the corridor during movie night with Sarah, whilst she was downstairs microwaving popcorn and he’d had no choice but to kiss you, your lips drenched in something that tasted like mango and made him dizzy. Then, at the annual neighbourhood cookout, when you’d dropped a fork and bent over to pick it up, flashing him those skimpy panties as you did, he’d had no choice then but to drag you upstairs and teach you a lesson, ten sharp slaps on your pert ass and strong words that you needed to stop. He doesn’t doubt you went home that night and shoved three fingers into your cunt and dreamt of him as you came.

But now, it’s all real. Sarah’s gone back to college, your parents back to work, and you have nothing lined up until you start getting invited to interview for positions that you’d applied to with a slew of applications about two weeks ago. It’s why you’re on his bed, it’s why he’s left Tommy on site on his own, and why you’re bare as the day you were born, legs spread obscenely, pussy on display as he stands at the foot of his bed and contemplates whether he really should do this.

“Y’scared, old man?” You tease, one hand trailing down your body, two fingers spreading the swollen lips of your cunt, middle finger dipping inside.

He can see the webbing of slick you drag from yourself, finger slow as it circles your clit. His eyes can’t miss the way your hole flutters as you touch yourself, like it’s begging to be filled, begging to be filled by his throbbing cock that he’s currently fisting in his hand.

“Ain’t scared,” He mutters, “Y’sure you wanna do this?”

You don’t speak in response, just dip two fingers back into your weeping cunt and start fucking yourself with them. He squeezes his cock a little tighter in his hand, feeling the weeping of pre-cum at his tip as he watches.

“Ain’t no comin’ back from this.” He muses, moving forward, knees on the mattress, your legs spreading wider to accommodate the width of his thighs.

“Want you,” Is all he hears from your mouth as his cock rests on your pussy, hot and heavy against your skin, “Want your cock, Joel.”

He thrusts his hips a little at that, dragging his length through the soaking folds of your cunt, head rubbing against the swollen bud of your clit.

“Y’sure?” He asks, continuing the rub of his cock, “It’s all over then, baby,” He coos, “I’ll ruin ya.”

“Good,” You groan out, hips shifting to try and catch his tip at your entrance, to try and get exactly what you want, “I want it, Joel, I want it bad.”

“Y’know what I think?” He asks, looking down at you, stopping his movements and opting to circle your clit with his thumb instead, “I reckon we need t’make sure.”

“I am-” You try and protest, but he’s shushing you.

“I reckon,” He says slowly, bringing the tip of his cock to press to your weeping core, “It don’t count if it’s just the tip,” He pushes his hips forward ever so slightly, not enough to sink inside, but enough that he’s already had a taste of what you’ll feel like around him, “Just the tip baby, and then we’ll know.”

He looks down at you and he can see your wild eyes, the way you nod your head against the mattress. You’re such a good girl for him, taking whatever he’ll give you, so he does just that. With three fingers on the base of his cock, he lets the tip of him push inside you, just enough that the head of his cock is nestled inside you, and he knows he’s fucked.

You’re tight and you’re warm and you’re breathing and whimpering for him, and those perfect walls are clenching around him so right and so good that it takes every ounce of self-control he has not to shove his cock all the way in and damn you both to hell.

“Jesus girl,” He breathes, one hand clutching at your hip to hold you still, “Fuckin’ perfect, ain’t ya?”

You don’t speak back to him, it’s all you can do to lie and try not to writhe too much as he starts his shallow thrusts. The head of his cock popping from your wet cunt and then being sucked back in so perfectly. He’s had his fair share of women since Sarah went to college and he knows he’s a lot to take, knows that he knows what he’s doing too, but when he looks down at you, your eyes tilted back in your skull, cunt squeezing him just right, he can’t help but think this is what he’s been missing.

“That good?” He asks, bringing his thumb back to your clit, swirling wetness across it as he continues the shallow thrusts of his hips.

“Want it all,” You grumble, “Can take it all, Joel.”

“Ain’t got a doubt,” He teases, but doesn’t relent, “But we gotta make sure.”

He wants to lean down, wants to cover your body with his own and suck one of your perfect nipples into his mouth, but he knows the minute he does you’ll beg him so nice and he’ll break, so he resists, swirling his thumb across your clit with more purpose now.

“M’gonna-” You choke out, and he knows, he can feel it, the way you’re fluttering and tightening around the head of his cock so perfectly, “Gonna come, Joel.”

“Yeah?” He asks ruefully, “Gonna come on my cock, pretty girl?” He smiling down at you as your mouth drops open, your cunt pulling painfully tight around him, “Go on, you can do it,” He babbles, trying to fight the tightening in his own stomach until you’ve come for him, “Come for me, baby.”

And you do, by God you do, and he thinks it might be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, the sweetest thing he’s ever heard. You whine, a high-pitched kind of thing, eyes clamping shut as you arch your back. There’s more slick around his cock than he’s ever seen before, making it easy for the tip of his cock to ease you through it. The convulsing of your walls around him bring him to his own end, using his last braincell to drag the tip from your cunt and give himself three strokes before the thick ropes of his cum are splashing across your swollen pussy. He watches where they land, painting your skin as his own as his head tips back and breathes a sigh of relief.

He know’s he should stop, but there’s something mesmerising about the mix of his cum and your own, the way he’s dripping down you and onto his sheets. His shuffles down a little and leans forward, using his thumbs to spread your pussy open, before he uses his tongue to gather the mess down there. He’s slurping at you, tasting your cunt through his cum, gathering as much of the two of you as he can in his mouth.

You’re moaning for him when his tongue flicks a few times at your sensitive bud, but then his body is over yours, weight pressed against you as one of his hands takes your chin, squeezing at your jaw to get you to open your mouth, which you do, gladly.

Joel opens his own mouth, letting his cum, your slick and his spit drop from his own into your waiting mouth. He doesn’t give you a minute to swallow anything, his tongue mixing with yours in a kiss that is messy and obscene. He can feel your hips against his own, your hot cunt pressing against him. If he was younger, he’d pin you down and fuck you again, this time for real, but all he can do is pull away.

“Swallow it,” He orders, closing your mouth and watching the bob of your throat as you do what he says, producing your tongue for him, “Good fuckin’ girl.”

He unceremoniously collapses onto the bed next to you, arm over his eyes as he tries to recover some semblance of composure. He can feel your body next to his, shuffling a little closer, and then he can hear you stifling a laugh and then before long, it’s not stifled, it’s full on laughter. He takes his arm from his eyes and looks at you, and can’t help but start laughing himself, until his ribs hurt and you’ve calmed down enough, your body draped across his in the mid-afternoon glow.

“This is bad, huh?” You whisper, fingers dancing through the smattering of hair across his chest.

“Terrible, really.” He responds.

“I’m sure though,” And he holds you a little tighter at that, “Next time, I want the whole thing.”

“Don’t worry baby,” He says quietly, pressing his lips to the crown of your head, “You can have whatever you want next time.”

[d1stalker]

I Want You [Logan Howlett]

Summary: Logan is jealous of you and Scott's friendship, not knowing your true feelings.

Warnings: SMUT! 18+ only please. fem/afab!reader. brief argument, logan being stubborn comme d'hab, making out, oral, riding, you get the idea ;)

WC: 2.9k - MASTERLIST

The sun is setting, casting long shadows across the X-Mansion grounds. You find yourself on the patio, leaning against the railing, watching as the last rays of sunlight dip below the trees. The tranquility of the moment is soothing, a brief escape from the chaos that often fills your days.

Your mind drifts to earlier that day, when you and Scott had been working together in the training room. He's always been a good friend—someone you can rely on when you need advice or a steady hand in a crisis. Scott had patiently helped you fine-tune your abilities, offering encouragement and constructive feedback.

"You're really getting the hang of it," Scott had said with a smile as you both took a break, sitting on the edge of the training mat. "I'm impressed."

"Thanks, Scott," you had replied, grateful for his support. "Couldn't have done it without your help."

He had shrugged, a modest grin on his face. "We make a good team. It's nice to have someone who gets it, you know?"

You had nodded, feeling the warmth of genuine friendship between you. Scott was like the brother you never had, someone who understood the challenges you faced and never judged you for them.

The sound of heavy footsteps approaching breaks your reverie. You recognize them immediately—Logan.

"You and Summers seem to be gettin' pretty close."

You turn to face him, raising an eyebrow at his accusatory tone. "Scott? We're just friends, Logan. You know that."

He crosses his arms over his chest, scowl deepening. "Doesn't look like it from where I'm standin'."

Frustration bubbles up inside you, and you can’t help but let it spill over. "And where exactly are you standing? Lurking in the shadows, jumping to conclusions?"

His eyes narrow, jaw clenching. "I'm just callin' it like I see it."

"You don't see anything," you retort, matching his intensity. "You're too busy looking for problems that aren't there."

He steps closer, his presence imposing but familiar. "I see the way he looks at you."

You roll your eyes, exasperated. "And how do I look at him, Logan?"

"Like he hung the damn moon," Logan mutters, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his voice.

"That's rich coming from the guy who's too stubborn to see what's right in front of him," you snap back, heart pounding.

He pauses, taken aback by your words. "What do you mean by that?"

You take a deep breath, the weight of your unspoken feelings pressing down on you. "I mean, I'm not in love with Scott. I'm in love with you. But you're too busy being jealous and stubborn to notice."

He blinks, surprise flickering across his features. His defenses falter for a moment, and you see the real him beneath the rugged exterior. "Me? Why the hell would you—"

"Because you're you, Logan," you interrupt, voice softer now. "You're gruff and infuriating, but you're also brave and kind. You see through the facade I put up, and you make me want to be better."

He looks at you, his hardened exterior cracking. "I thought I wasn't good enough for you,” he says, quietly. 

You step closer, reaching out to touch his arm. The contact is electric, as always, grounding both of you in the moment. "You don't get to decide that for me. I've made my choice."

He stares at you, a mix of disbelief and longing in his eyes. "All this time... and I was just bein' a damn fool."

"Yeah, you were,” you say with a smile, the tension between you dissipating. 

Logan lets out a low chuckle, the sound warm and genuine. "Guess I should apologize for actin' like a jerk, huh?"

You nod, teasingly. "That would be a good start."

He takes a deep breath, looking into your eyes with a sincerity that makes your heart race. "I'm sorry, darlin'. I was stupid, and I let my jealousy get the best of me."

You smile, feeling the last remnants of your anger melt away. "Apology accepted, but you're gonna have to make it up to me."

Tthe familiar glint returns to his eyes as he smirks. "Oh, I will. Count on it."

A comfortable silence falls between you. The night air is cool and refreshing, and you can hear the distant sounds of laughter from inside the mansion.

"Why didn’t you ever say anything?" Logan asks, his voice quieter now, almost tentative.

"I guess I was scared," you admit. "Scared of ruining what we have, of pushing you away. You’re not exactly easy to read."

He chuckles softly. "Yeah, well, you're not the only one who’s scared. I’m not good at this...feelin’ stuff. Always thought it’d get in the way."

"It doesn’t have to," you say, hoping your words convey the sincerity you feel. "You don’t have to do this alone, Logan. We can figure it out together."

He nods, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. You share a moment of quiet understanding. For once, there’s no need for words. You both know what this means.

"Come on," Logan says suddenly, breaking the silence. "Let’s get outta here for a while."

"Where to?" you ask, curiosity piqued.

There’s a playful glint in his eyes as he shrugs. "Anywhere but here. I hear there’s a nice little spot by the lake where the stars look like they’re close enough to touch."

You laugh, "Alright, lead the way.”

---

The walk to the lake is peaceful, the cool night air wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. The sound of your footsteps on the gravel path blends with the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. You and Logan walk side by side, your fingers occasionally brushing against each other, only feeding the tension that seems to be growing as each moment passes.

When you reach the lake, the water shimmers under the starlight, a breathtaking view that makes you catch your breath. Logan finds a spot on the grassy bank, and you settle down beside him, lying back to gaze up at the sky.

"It's beautiful here," you whisper, feeling the tranquility of the moment seep into your bones.

Logan nods, his gaze fixed on you instead of the stars. "Yeah, it is."

His arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. You rest your head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. It's a comforting sound, grounding you in the reality of this moment.

You tilt your head up to look at him, meeting his eyes. There's a softness there that you haven't seen before, a vulnerability that makes your heart swell. "I've wanted this for a long time, Logan."

He smiles, a rare and genuine expression that lights up his features. "Me too. Guess I was too stubborn to admit it."

You chuckle softly, reaching up to trace your fingers along the line of his jaw. "I like this side of you."

He catches your hand, pressing a kiss to your fingertips. His touch is gentle, almost reverent, as if he's afraid you'll disappear if he's not careful. The world around you fades away as Logan leans down, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. It's slow and tentative at first, as if testing the waters, but quickly deepens into something more urgent and heated.

You shift closer, your bodies fitting together perfectly as his hand slides up your back, pulling you even closer. Your fingers weave into his hair, anchoring yourself as the kiss intensifies, leaving you breathless.

Breaking away briefly, his forehead rests against yours as he catches his breath. "You sure about this?" he murmurs, his voice low and husky.

You nod, your own breath coming in short gasps. "Absolutely."

With a growl of approval, Logan captures your lips again, the kiss filled with a hunger that leaves you dizzy. He shifts, pulling you with him as he rolls onto his back, guiding you to straddle his hips. His hand traces down your side, sending shivers of anticipation through you. The world around you feels distant and unimportant, the only thing that matters is the man with you and the way he makes you feel.  

As the kiss deepens, you lose yourself in the moment, the passion and intensity of it all consuming you. Slowly, you rock back and forth, grinding your hot core against his growing bulge. Something akin to a growl releases from his throat, as his hands tighten their grip on you.

Breaking the kiss, Logan trails his lips down your neck, planting soft, lingering kisses along your skin. You tilt your head back, allowing him to continue his journey, savouring the sensation of his mouth against you. He hooks his fingers into the hem of your shirt, pausing to look up at you. With deliberate slowness, he slides your shirt up and over your head, discarding it with a flick of his wrist. He takes a moment to admire you, his hands tracing the curves of your waist with a gentle reverence.

“Wow,” he breathes, his voice rough with emotion. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

His eyes roam over you appreciatively, lingering on your bare skin. His words and gaze make your heart race and heat flood your cheeks.

“Says you,” you murmur, feeling a heady mix of vulnerability and desire under his gaze.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he whispers, flipping you over so you’re now on your back as he hovers above you. “I’ve thought about this moment more times than I can count.”

He begins to kiss the valley between your breasts, hands never ceasing their exploration of your body. Your grasp finds the hem of his shirt, tugging it up and over his head, revealing the hard planes of his chest. Your fingers trace over his muscles, delighting in the way they ripple beneath your touch.

Logan grins, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he moves even lower, his kisses trailing down your stomach. Each touch is electric, leaving a path of heat in its wake. His fingers find the waistband of your pants, slowly sliding them down your legs. With your pants discarded, Logan settles himself between your thighs, his hands gently parting them to make room for himself. His touch is firm yet gentle, and you shiver in anticipation as he leans in, his breath warm against your most sensitive skin.

He starts with soft kisses along your inner thighs, teasing you with his lips and the occasional scrape of his teeth. The feeling sends a thrill through you, making your heart race and your body ache for more. Finally, Logan focuses his attention on your centre, his mouth moving with expert precision as he tastes you. The first touch of his tongue is like fire, a sensation so intense that it steals your breath away. You gasp, your hands finding their way to his hair, anchoring yourself to him as the pleasure begins to build.

He works you with a practiced ease, his tongue tracing patterns that have you arching into him, seeking more of the exquisite sensations he’s giving you. He alternates between gentle flicks and firmer strokes, finding a rhythm that leaves you trembling beneath him. Your soft moans and gasps fill the night air, mingling with the sound of the lake and the distant rustle of leaves. Logan responds to your every sound, adjusting his movements, his sole focus on drawing out your pleasure.

As the tension coils within you, winding tighter with each deft movement of his tongue, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of release. Logan senses your impending climax, his efforts doubling as he brings you closer and closer to the brink. With a final flick of his tongue at your clit with gentle, firm pressure, he pushes you over the edge, sending you spiraling into ecstasy. The world dissolves around you as the waves of pleasure crash over you, leaving you breathless and shaking.

Logan stays with you through it all, his touch gentle and reassuring as you come down from your high. He presses a soft kiss to your thigh before moving back up to lie beside you, gathering you into his arms as you catch your breath. “Logan,” you whisper, feeling a warmth that’s more than just physical spreading through you.

He smiles, a satisfied, tender expression on his face as he brushes a stray hair from your cheek. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs.

You shift slightly, your fingers tracing the lines of his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. The sight of him, hair tousled and eyes filled with a mix of satisfaction and desire, stirs something within you. You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, feeling the warmth of his body against yours.

Responding eagerly to your initiation, the kiss deepens as your hands explore each other with a renewed sense of curiosity and hunger, as if he didn’t just make you finish with his mouth. You push him gently onto his back, straddling his hips as you trade positions once again, trailing kisses down his chest, savoring the way his muscles tense under your touch.

Your hands make quick work of his belt and jeans, tugging them down to reveal the hard length of him. He’s beautiful. Logan’s breath hitches as you take him in your hand, stroking him with a slow, deliberate rhythm that draws a low groan from his lips.

You lower yourself further, your lips and tongue exploring every inch of him, tasting and teasing until his hands are tangled in your hair, guiding you with a mix of urgency and need. The sounds he makes, the way he reacts to your touch, only spurs you on, and you take him deeper, reveling in the way his body responds to yours.

“Darlin’,” Logan rasps, his voice strained with pleasure, “you’re gonna be the death of me.”

You smile against him, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, the heat in his eyes matching the fire burning within you. “Well, don’t go dying on me now,” you tease, moving back up to capture his lips in a heated kiss.

His hands grip your hips, holding you in place as you settle over him. You barely break the kiss as you grab his length and slowly sit down on it. The pleasure of being filled by him draws a gasp from your lips, and a hearty groan vibrates underneath you.

You brace yourself against his chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath your palms, as you begin to move. The rhythm starts slow and steady, each movement deliberate as you rise and fall, taking him deeper with each movement of your hips. Soon enough, you feel him begin to thrust up into you, matching your pace, pounding into you even deeper than before. 

Logan’s grip on your hips tightens, guiding you as you pick up the pace, your bodies moving in perfect harmony. The sound of your breathy sighs and his low groans fill the air, mingling with the gentle rustle of the leaves and the lapping of the lake against the shore.

His eyes remain locked on yours, a dark and heated gaze that stokes the fire within you. You feel the tension coiling tight, winding with each movement until it’s all-consuming, a need that demands release.

“I’m close,” you gasp, leaning forward to capture his lips in a heated kiss. 

The tension within you builds to a crescendo, a tidal wave of sensation that sweeps you away. With one final movement, you tumble over the edge, your release crashing over you in a symphony of pleasure that leaves you trembling in his arms.

He follows soon after, a low, guttural moan escaping him as he finds his own release, his hands finding and squeezing your breasts while his body shudders beneath you.

When the waves of pleasure subside, you collapse against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath you. His arms wrap around you, holding you close, and you smile against his skin, feeling a sense of peace and contentment that only comes from being with him.

The night air cools the heat between you, and you nestle against Logan’s side, feeling safe and cherished in the aftermath of your shared passion. His fingers trace lazy patterns along your back, soothing and grounding you as you bask in the warmth of his embrace.

“Wow,” you whisper, a soft laugh escaping you as you meet his gaze, the stars reflected in his eyes. “That was…”

“Incredible,” he finishes for you, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. “You’ve got me all figured out, darlin’.”

You chuckle, feeling the warmth of his words settle in your chest. “I think we’ve got eachother figured out.”

“Yeah, we do,” Logan agrees, pulling you closer, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

As the night stretches on, you find comfort and peace in Logan’s embrace, knowing that this is just the beginning of something beautiful and real. You’ve found a home in each other’s arms—a place where you truly belong.

---------

A/N: this is my first time ever writing smut yikes lol please leave feedback!

[solarenchanting]

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐑 𝐍𝐀𝐏𝐒 ── .✦ getō suguru x fem!reader

a hot summer day involving two lovers and a cold floor

he leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen, his tall figure relaxed as he crossed his arms against his bare chest. his hair fell loosely down his back, long strands brushing against his chest. black sweatpants sagged low enough to reveal the waistband of his boxers.

“and what do we have here?”

he chuckled dryly, cigarette between his lips, its smoke curling in the humid air. his eyes gleamed with mirth at sight before him: you were laying on the tiled floor, sprawled like a starfish, dressed in your favourite summer outfit. your stomach rose up and down, head lolled to the side.

your beautiful eyes—which made him weak in the knees whenever he stared into them—were closed; trying to play it off as if you were taking a nap, he knew that you were awake.

the scrunch of your nose as the smell of nicotine from his cigarette reached your nostrils, followed by the twitch of your eyes, and the soft giggle you couldn’t suppress gave you away.

“nothing,” you sing-song, lazily turning your head slightly to face him. “just trying to take a nap, you know?”

“on the floor?” he challenged, teasingly, making his way to the kitchen table with his arms unfolded; one hand in his pocket, and the other holding the cigarette as he stubbed it out on the rusty ashtray.

he pulled out a chair, the bottom of the legs scraping onto the tiles, as he took a seat. slouching back in the chair, legs—deliciously—spread apart. propping an elbow onto the table, he lowered his head slightly to stare into your eyes, smirking.

“why not? there’s no water for a cold shower, no electricity, we don't live near a beach, we don't have a pool…it’s not like we have anything better to do,” you trailed off, shrugging your shoulders, your eyes drawn to the ceiling.

“is that so? i see…” he mused playfully, arching an eyebrow with a tilt of his head; leaning further into his hand, amused.

he couldn’t blame you, you weren't wrong. the sun’s heat had seeped through every room of the small apartment since dawn, making the walls radiate warmth back at them.

the water supply randomly shut down at 10 am; at least they managed to shower before that. then, electricity shut off an hour or two later, leaving them to entertain themselves with their barely charged phones until boredom struck them.

The tiled floor beneath you might have been the only surface still offering a sliver of coolness, though it wasn’t much relief. Sweat clung to his skin, the dampness at the back of his neck was annoying as stray strands of hair stuck to it.

the kitchen reeked of stale smoke, sweat, and something humid, clinging to their skin like fog; it was thick, almost suffocating.

the faint hum of cicadas outside seemed to mock the silence of the powerless apartment—if he had a choice, he’d prefer the cicadas over the irritating buzzing of mosquitoes flying over his head when he’s trying to sleep at night.

“so laying on the floor was the next best thing?”

he shuffled on the chair, trying to keep his damp back from sticking to the surface, his eyes never leaving yours.

“pretty much, yeah. you should try it sometime,” you jerked your head to the empty space next to you on the floor, ending off your suggestion with a playful wink.

“oh, yeah? i’ll try it out now then.”

he pushed himself off the chair, walking over to the empty space between you and the refrigerator. he settled down, first feeling the cold floor through the fabric of his sweatpants.

he laid down on his back, hissing between his teeth before it turned into a content sigh. his hair spread out above him on the floor. he mirrored your pose, though his spread limbs were more controlled, more restrained than yours but still relaxed.

“feels good, doesn’t it?” you teased, turning your head to face him, eyes filled with adoration as they roamed over the details of his profile; his closed eyes, short eyelashes, black circular earring, sharp jawline.

“it does…” he muttered, opening his eyes and staring at the ceiling, “but not quite.”

“how so?” you furrowed your eyebrows, confused, a teasing smirk playing on your lips. the way he spoke made you curious, almost frustrated that he wasn’t just agreeing with you like he should be.

he turned his head to face you this time with quickness. a familiar yet mischievous and expected glint entered his eyes followed by a coy smile.

of course. you should’ve known he'd pull something like this. rolling your eyes, you tried to suppress the smile threatening to escape, but it was pointless. he always knew how to get you

“tch, you could've just told me, you know,” you reached over and lightly slapped his chest causing him to laugh.

“and you should know by now that i can’t nap without you. you’re my favourite part of napping, sweet girl,” he retorted.

you shifted closer to him, closing the gap between you both, until you nestled comfortably underneath his arm, laying your head on his shoulder, and threw your arm over his torso as you draped your leg over his waist.

he sighed softly, a deep and content breath escaping his lips as his arm circled around your shoulders, pulling you closer. his fingers gently traced soothing circles on your arm, the warmth of his touch grounding you. meanwhile, he shifted his free arm to the back of his head, his palm resting at the nape of his neck.

he felt your body melt as he rubbed your arm, your breath evening out. he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, the warmth of his lips lingering there for a moment as his eyes fluttered shut. his stomach rose and fell, deep measured breaths, as he let himself fall asleep alongside you.

the floor beneath them was cool but unyielding, yet with you tucked into his side, nothing else—least of all the stifling heat—mattered.

a/n: i don't know what this is, but itʼs something. hope it's enjoyable nonetheless !! <33

[aeralux]

"Old Friend" - Aegon Targaryen

Summary: Out on the town on a summer evening, you run into your old friend. Old memories come crashing back, and you find yourself where you once were. In his arms. ModernAegon!au

Warnings: SMUT; slight breeding kink; Aegon is a sweetheart, actually?; oral (f! receiving); drinking and smoking; just intense sex (vulgar language is obviously used); they go for multiple rounds; Aegon is quite rough, but reader likes it; possible that I have some slight grammar mistakes

Words: 11.4k (they go for multiple rounds)

Notes: Aegon is the heir to the Targaryen family business empire. The reader is also from a powerful and rich house (old money ;D), but it isn't specified which one. No descriptive language of the reader is used.

-- aera xx

Aegon Targaryen, the heir of the Targaryen business empire, relaxes in the back of his sleek black Mercedes-Benz S-Class Coupe. The luxury interior features hand-stitched leather seats and shiny wood accents. Dressed in a tailored dark suit with a crisp white shirt, he exudes confidence. His silver-gold hair falls in loose waves around his shoulders as he leans against the rolled-down window, one arm on the doorframe. Holding a cigarette, he takes slow drags and exhales smoke into the warm evening air. At the same time, his captivating violet eyes scan the surroundings, reflecting a mix of interest and boredom.

Suddenly, Aegon's gaze is caught by a striking young woman strolling down the sidewalk. Instantly captivated, he sits up straighter and narrows his eyes to take her in. A slow, confident smile spreads across his face, highlighting his natural charm. "Hey there," he calls out, his voice smooth and inviting as he gestures to you without coming on too strong. His warm and rich tone reflects the charisma and allure he radiates effortlessly. "Yeah, you! Would you come over for a moment?"

Walking in the evening usually doesn't sound like a smart choice, but this was a good neighbourhood. Excellent even. And according to some, the best. So, walking around South Kensington in the evening hours didn't feel worrisome.

Until you heard a male voice call out to you. You flashed a look at the man. At least he wasn't a bum. He definitely had a nice car for your average cat-caller.

Usually, you wouldn't have considered him at all, but there was something familiar about him that caught your attention.Then it hit you. Aegon 'fucking' Targaryen. The young Targaryen heir. You shook your head as you looked at him, tongue poking in your cheek.

You knew Aegon and the Targaryen siblings since you were a babe. Your families did business together, and you often vacationed together during the summer. As a child, you had nothing against them, even including Aegon. They were all nice kids, and at one point, you were all really close friends. But as you all started to grow up, your encounters got less and less frequent, and you all drifted apart. The last time you talked to them was two and a half years ago at some boring gala.

In such an amount of time, a lot can change. Aegon had grown into a man, more or less, from what you could tell in the poor street lighting. You had become a woman, getting ready to start working full-time at your family's business, as was your older brother, who would eventually run the business.

"Aegon..." you started walking over to him, your heels making a sharp sound on the pavement. "Is that how you greet an old friend?" You couldn't stop the smirk from appearing on your face, teasing him.

Your sharp and teasing voice carries through the evening air, reaching Aegon's ears. He can't help but let out a low chuckle, the sound rich and amused. His dark eyes dance with mischief as he takes another drag from his cigarette, holding your gaze with a look that's both challenging and inviting.

"An old friend?" he says, his voice smooth and confident. "I don't recall ever being just friends." He pauses, letting the words sink in before continuing. "But I suppose time blurs the lines of memory and intent."

Aegon takes one last drag from his cigarette before flicking it out the window, the glowing ember arcing through the air before disappearing into the darkness. He leans forward, resting his forearms on the open window frame, his eyes never leaving your face.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" he says, his tone almost conversational, but with an underlying current of something else,something more intense and raw. "You look well." His gaze travels over your form, taking in the sight of you in a way that's both appreciative and calculating. "No, more than well. You look... breathtaking."

He lets the compliment hang in the air between you, his smile widening just a fraction. "What brings you to this part of London? Surely not just a stroll through the city on a summer's eve."

There's a challenge in his voice, a subtle encouragement for you to reveal more. He's always been drawn to you, even as children, and seeing you now, all grown up and even more captivating than he remembered, has only stoked that fire within him.

"Or perhaps," he continues, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial tone, "you were hoping to run into someone like me? Someone who knows how to show a lady a good time?"

He lets the words linger, his eyes locked with yours, waiting to see how you'll respond. There's a glint of excitement in his gaze, a hint of the wild, chaotic energy that lies just beneath his carefully composed exterior.

You hummed at his words, memories of your carefree days in the Hamptons flashing through your mind. The warmth of the sun, the coolness of the water, and the heat of your secret kisses. How you snuck out to skinny dip and make out in the cool clear waters. How long has it been since then?

"Thank you," you said with a genuine smile, accepting his compliment. And I actually live here, have for quite a while now." You pointed towards your penthouse, looking down at him sitting in his car.

"I should be the one to ask you this question," you continued, your tone playful as you returned his challenge. "Seeing as you lived in Notting Hill the last time we saw each other."

Your playful tone and the way your eyes sparkle in the dim light catch Aegon off guard for a moment. A flicker of genuine surprise crosses his features before his usual confident mask slides back into place. He leans back slightly, one hand moving to loosen his tie as if the mere mention of Notting Hill has suddenly made the air too close.

"Ah, yes," he says, his voice cool and nonchalant. "Notting Hill. A lifetime ago, it seems." His eyes narrow slightly, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his expression. "Things change. We all move on, don't we?"

But despite his words, there's a tension in his body, a coiled energy that belies his casual tone. He runs a hand through his hair, the silver strands catching the light and shimmering like liquid metal.

"You're living here now, you say?" he asks, his curiosity getting the better of him.

He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a sleek silver lighter shaped like a dragon, the symbol of his family crest. With a practised flick of his thumb, he ignites the flame, bringing it to the end of a fresh cigarette. He inhales deeply, the smoke curling around his face before he exhales it in a slow, measured stream.

"Tell me," he says, his voice low, "has it been as lonely for you as it has for me?"

The question hangs in the air between you, charged with meaning and implication. Aegon watches your face, searching for any sign of recognition, any hint that you feel the same pull, the same longing that he does.

His eyes lock onto yours, searching, yearning for something. Maybe it's a connection to the past or perhaps something new. Whatever it is, he can't seem to look away, his gaze intense and hungry.

You look at him with a sort of melancholy smile, sighing as you glance away for a moment. "I might need a cigarette if you want an answer to that," you tease, a smirk slowly spreading across your face.

He's still seated in his sleek car while you stand there, looking down at him. Your heels are slowly starting to kill you, but your pride won't let you ask him to let you into his car. No, you won't give him the satisfaction of seeing you struggle.

Instead, you shift your weight to one side, hoping to relieve some of the pressure on your aching feet. The action causes your skirt to ride up ever so slightly, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of smooth, soft thigh. It's a move you know will catch his eye, a teasing reminder of what he's been missing out on.

A snort of laughter escapes Aegon's lips at your teasing comment, his eyes crinkling at the corners with genuine amusement. He takes another drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke out slowly, his gaze never leaving your face.

"You never used to smoke," he remarks, his voice a low drawl. "I seem to remember you had a thing about the smell." His lips quirk into a small, knowing smile. "But then again, a lot has changed, hasn't it?"

His eyes follow the movement as you shift your weight, the subtle lift of your skirt catching his attention. He inhales sharply, his gaze lingering on the exposed flesh of your thigh for a moment too long before he forces himself to look away.

"Get in," he says suddenly, his voice taking on a commanding tone. "Your feet look like they're killing you, and we both know standing here isn't going to resolve anything."

He gestures to the passenger door of his sleek car, his expression unreadable. "Unless, of course, you'd prefer to continue this conversation on the sidewalk. I'm sure the neighbours would love the show."

There's a challenge in his voice, a subtle dare. He knows you won't ask him for help, knows that your pride won't allow it.But he also knows that your feet are hurting, that the concrete is unforgiving under the delicate soles of your heels.

The door unlocks with a soft click, the sound echoing in the quiet street. Aegon leans back in his seat, one arm draped casually over the steering wheel, waiting to see what you'll do.

His eyes never leave your face, watching for any sign of reluctance or hesitation. There's a tension in the air between you, a charged electricity that crackles like lightning on a summer's eve.

The ball, as they say, is in your court.

With a small sigh, you make your way around to the passenger side of the car, the soft leather seats beckoning you. You slide into the plush interior, the cool air conditioning kissing your heated skin.

Aegon holds out a cigarette, his long fingers brushing against yours as you take it from him. You bring it to your lips, waiting for him to light it, your eyes locking in the process.

"As you said," you murmur, repeating his words from moments ago. "Things change, we all move on."

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with meaning and unspoken history. A part of you wants to ask him what exactly he means by that, but another part, the part that's been hurt before, tells you to tread carefully.

You take a long drag from the cigarette, the nicotine hitting your bloodstream like a shot of liquid courage. "So," you say, turning to face him fully, "what have you been up to since we last saw each other? Still causing trouble for your father's company?"

You can't help but let a teasing smile play at the corners of your mouth. Aegon was always the outgoing one, the one who pushed boundaries and challenged the status quo. It's part of what drew you to him, even as a child and as a teenager.

Your eyes flicker down to his hands, noting how they rest on the steering wheel, strong and capable. You wonder, not for the first time, how those hands would feel on your skin, exploring, caressing, claiming...

But you push the thought away, focusing instead on the present moment. The car is cool, the engine purring softly, and beside you sits Aegon Targaryen, his dark eyes watching you with an intensity that makes your heart race.

A slow smile spreads across Aegon's face at your words, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and something deeper, something more intense. He takes another drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke out slowly, letting it curl and twist in the air between you.

"Move on?" he says, his voice a low, velvety purr. "Oh, we both have moved on alright. But some things, some people, tend to linger in the mind, no matter how far you go or how much time passes."

He reaches out, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek, tracing the line of your jaw with a feather-light touch. His eyes never leave yours, the intensity of his gaze almost palpable. His hand retracts quickly, the touch leaving almost an imprint on your soft cheek.

"As for causing trouble..." he trails off, his lips curving into a mischievous grin. "Let's just say I've found new ways to keep myself entertained."

He shifts slightly in his seat, his body turning towards you.

"But enough about me," he says, his voice dropping to a whisper, "I want to hear about you. Tell me about your life here in London. What do you do when you're not strutting around in those sinfully high heels?"

"Have you found someone yet, someone to share your bed and your life with?" he asks, his voice tight with a hint of jealousy. "Or are you still playing the field, breaking hearts left and right?"

He leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, "Or maybe you're just waiting for the right person to come along, someone who knows how to make you feel things you've never felt before."

You scoff and shake your head, a small smile playing on your lips as you take a drag from the cigarette. The smoke spirals out of the open window, dissipating into the cool evening air. "No, not yet. I guess I was too focused on university, and now, well..." You turn to look at Aegon, your eyes locking in the dim light of the car. Suddenly, the air between you feels thick, heavy with a tension you can't quite name.

"No one has caught my eye so far," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. In the background, Chappell Roan's haunting melody fills the silence, and for a moment, you're transported back in time. You're that same sixteen-year-old girl, hopelessly in love with Aegon, dreaming of running away with him and leaving behind all the expectations and responsibilities.

But that was then, and this is now. You are not that naive little girl anymore, but as you sit there in the close confines of Aegon's car, you can't help but wonder what might have been. Would things have been different if you had followed your hearts all those years ago? Or were you simply too young, too unprepared for the kind of love you thought we had?

You close your eyes for a moment, letting the music wash over you, mingling with the scent of Aegon's cologne and the lingering traces of cigarette smoke. You take another drag, letting the smoke fill your lungs once more.

Aegon watches you closely, his eyes tracking every movement, every expression that flits across your face. The soft glow of the streetlights bathes the car's interior in a warm amber hue, casting shadows across his angular features. As you speak of no one having caught your eye, a flicker of something crosses his face—a mix of relief and disappointment that's gone as quickly as it appeared.

"Don't sell yourself short," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. "You're a goddess among mortals. Anyone would be lucky to have you."

He pulls back slightly, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. "But I have to admit," he says, his voice low and husky, "a part of me hopes that no one has caught your eye. A selfish part of me that wants you all to myself, even if only for a moment."

"Like before, when we were young..." he says, his voice barely audible over the music.

The music swells in the background, the haunting melody intertwining with the pounding of your heart.

Your heart races as you listen to Aegon's confession, your mind spinning with a whirlwind of emotions. You search his eyes, looking for any hint of deception or insincerity, but all you find is raw, unfiltered honesty.

"We were young," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not saying that I feel exactly like an adult right now either, but we were teenagers back then."

You take a drag from your cigarette, letting the smoke curl around your face as you contemplate his words.

Aegon nods slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. The soft glow of the streetlights casts a warm amber hue over his angular features, highlighting the strong lines of his jaw and the sharpness of his nose. The air in the car is thick with tension, the silence stretching between you like an endless void.

"You're right," he says, his voice low and smooth, like velvet over steel. "We were just kids back then, too young to know what we really wanted, too afraid to reach out and take it."

He takes a drag from his own cigarette, blowing the smoke out slowly, watching as it curls and twists in the air between you.

"But sometimes," he continues, his voice dropping to a whisper, "sometimes I can't help but wonder..."

The music swells in the background, the song intertwining with the pounding of your heart. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, the closeness of his presence almost overwhelming in the confined space of the car.

"Do you think about it?" he asks, his voice barely audible over the music. "Do you ever think about what could have been?"

You let out a breathy laugh, the sound a mix of nerves and amusement. "What I think right now," you say, flicking the ash from your cigarette out the open window, "is that I need a drink." You turn to Aegon, giving your best doe-eyed look. "Where can I put this out?" you ask, gesturing to the offending cigarette.

The air between you is thick with tension, the charged atmosphere of the car making your skin prickle with awareness. You know you should probably just put out the cigarette and make a polite exit, but something keeps you rooted in my seat.

The rational part of you knows that getting involved with Aegon could be a disaster, that your families' tangled histories could make any romantic entanglement full of complications. But the other part of you, the part that remembers the thrill of your secret kisses, whispers that perhaps this is a good idea after all.

You take a final drag from my cigarette, holding Aegon's gaze as you exhale the smoke slowly. The moment stretches between you, heavy with unspoken words and unacknowledged desires.

Aegon chuckles softly at your comment, his eyes sparkling with amusement in the dim light of the car. "A drink, huh?" he muses, his voice a low, velvety purr. "I suppose we could head to my place. I've got a fully stocked bar there, and we can continue this conversation in a more... comfortable setting."

"As for where you can put it out," he says, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper, "I think I can take care of that for you." He reaches out, taking the cigarette from your fingers, his fingers brushing against yours in a fleeting touch that sends a jolt of electricity through your body. He brings the cigarette to his lips, taking a deep drag before rolling down the window and flicking the cigarette out into the night.

He leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, "Let me take care of everything."

With that, he starts the car, the engine roaring to life with a loud purr. He pulls away from the curb, the city lights blurring past the windows as he navigates the streets with practised ease.

The air between you is thick with tension, the charged atmosphere of the car making your skin prickle with awareness. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, the closeness of his presence almost overwhelming in the confined space.

As you drive, the music fades into the background, replaced by your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. You can't help but steal glances at Aegon as he drives, admiring the strong lines of his profile, and the way his silver hair gleams in the moonlight.

Suddenly, he reaches out, his hand finding yours on the centre console. His fingers lace with yours, squeezing as he guides your connected hand to rest on your bare thigh. The touch is electrifying, sending a shiver down your spine.

The car speeds through the night, carrying you closer and closer to Aegon's penthouse, and whatever awaits you there. The anticipation builds in your stomach, a heady mix of nerves and excitement.

Goosebumps prickle across your skin as Aegon's touch sears into your thigh, his fingers grazing your sensitive flesh through the thin fabric of your skirt. Your breath catches in your throat, and you pray he doesn't notice how his proximity affects you.

"Have you got wine?" You manage to ask, your usually confident voice wavering slightly. Get it together. You chastise yourself silently. Don't revert to that lovestruck teenager now.

Aegon's eyes flick to you, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he catches the slight tremor in your voice. He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your skin.

"Of course," he purrs, his voice low and smooth. "I've got a lovely bottle of Bordeaux."

He guides the car into an underground parking garage, the concrete walls closing in around you like a cocoon. As the carcomes to a stop, he turns to you, his dark eyes intense in the dim light.

His breath is hot against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. You can smell the heady mix of his cologne and cigarettes, the scent intoxicating in its proximity.

Slowly, he releases your hand, reaching for the door handle with a fluid grace. He steps out of the car, his tall frame filling the space as he rounds to your side. He opens your door for you, offering his hand to help you out.

"Shall we, m'lady?" he says, his voice a mixture of charm and challenge.

You take his hand, the warmth of his skin seeping into your own as you step out of the car. The cool air of the garage hits you, a stark contrast to the heated atmosphere of the vehicle.

He leads you through the maze of the garage, his footsteps echoing off the concrete walls. As you walk, you can't help but steal glances at him, admiring the way his suit clings to his athletic build, and the way his hair falls in tousled waves over his forehead.

Suddenly, you find yourself in front of an elevator, the doors sliding open silently. Aegon gestures for you to enter, his eyes never leaving yours. As you step inside, he follows, his body pressing against yours as he reaches past you to press the button for his floor.

Your heart races as Aegon presses flush against you in the confines of the elevator, his body warm and solid against yours. You catch your bottom lip between your teeth, your gaze transfixed his fingers as he presses the button for his floor. A sudden flush of heat pools between your thighs, your body acutely aware of his closeness.

"How long have you lived here?" You ask, desperation colouring your attempt at casual conversation. Focus. Stop thinking about how much you want him. "I think I have a friend who lives here, Jace. Do you know him?"

You hold my breath, praying the change in the subject matter will calm the frantic pulsing of your heart. The last thing you need is for him to realize how easily he can still unravel you with a brush of his skin against yours.

Aegon's eyes darken with something unreadable as you mention Jace, a flicker of irritation crossing his handsome features before it's quickly masked. He straightens, putting a bit of distance between your bodies, though the small space of the elevator does little to ease the electric tension crackling in the air.

"Jace, yes, I know him," Aegon says curtly, his gaze sliding away from yours to stare at the slowly climbing numbers above the elevator doors. "Can't say I know him personally, but this place is full of young, wealthy types. Probably knows more people than I do."

His hand rests on the small of your back, the heat of his palm searing through the thin fabric of your dress.

The elevator dings, signalling your arrival at Aegon's floor. The doors slide open, revealing a sprawling penthouse suite that takes your breath away. The walls are lined with floor-to-ceiling windows, offering a stunning view of the city skyline. The space is sleek and modern, with clean lines and minimalist decor.

Aegon's hand remains on your back as he guides you out of the elevator, his touch lingering a moment longer than necessary. "Make yourself at home," he says, his voice a low purr. "I'll go grab that wine."

He saunters towards a sleek, modern kitchen, leaving you alone in the living room. You wander over to the windows, your fingers trailing along the cool glass as you take in the view. The city spreads out before you like a glittering jewel, the lights twinkling like stars in the night sky.

Suddenly, you hear the sound of a cork popping, followed by the gentle clink of glasses. You turn to see Aegon standing in the doorway, two glasses of wine in his hand. He removed his suit jacket, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to reveal forearms corded with muscle.

He hands you a glass, his fingers brushing against yours once more as he does. "To old times," he says, raising his glass in a toast. "And to new beginnings."

As you clink glasses, you can't help but watch the play of the city lights across his handsome face, the way his eyes sparkle.

"Cheers," you take a deep breath, savouring the rich flavours of the wine as they coat your tongue. "Mmm, this is delicious," you murmur, your eyes sparkling with genuine appreciation. "You really do have good taste. Even though I hate to admit it."

A soft giggle escapes your lips as you take another sip, the cool liquid a welcome relief against the heat building within you. You can feel Aegon's eyes on you, his gaze intense and all-consuming. It sends a shiver down your spine, a delicious thrill that settles low in your belly.

"How about you?" he asks, his voice low and smooth. "How long have you been in the city? I seem to remember you mentioning university earlier."

You meet his gaze, your own eyes wide and honest. "Yeah, I just finished my Bachelor's in Oxford, so now I'm back in London," you say in a low voice. "It's good to be back in the big city, but Oxford will always have a big piece of my heart."

Your eyes can't help but wander over his toned physique, the fabric of his shirt straining against his well-defined muscles. You bite your lip, suddenly feeling flustered under his scrutiny.

Aegon's eyes rake over your form, a predatory gleam shining in their depths. He steps towards you, his movements slow and deliberate, like a big cat stalking its prey. The air between you crackles with tension, the charge palpable.

"Oxford, huh?" he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "I bet you were quite the hit there. A gorgeous girl like you, all on her own..."

He takes another step, closing the distance between you. His presence envelops you, his scent filling your nostrils. It's a heady mixture of expensive cologne and something unique that makes your heart race and your skin shiver.

His hand reaches out, his fingers ghosting along your jawline. Your breath catches in your throat, your pulse pounding in your ears. He tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"You know," he whispers, his lips a hairsbreadth from yours, "I always regretted letting you go. Letting you walk away from me."

His hand trails down to your waist, his grip firm as he holds you against him. You can feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric of your dress, the hard planes of his chest pressed against your soft curves.

"Not tonight," he breathes, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light kiss. "Tonight, I'm not letting you get away. Not until I've had my fill."

His mouth claims yours in a searing kiss, his tongue delving past your lips to tangle with your own. He tastes like wine and desire, the flavour intoxicating. You moan into the kiss, your free hand fisting in his shirt as you pull him closer.

He breaks the kiss, leaving you panting and desperate. A smirk plays at the corners of his lips, his eyes dark with hunger.

You smirk in return, shivers going down your spine as you feel the cool glass pressed against your back. You carefully hold your wine glass and take another sip, the cold liquid helping you cool your body.

"So you've always regretted it, huh?" You hum, your eyes looking him up and down in a worked-up state. The hunger in his eyes sends a thrill through you, your heart pounding.

You arch an eyebrow, your voice low and teasing. "Too bad for you then, isn't it? Because I'm not the same naive girl I was back then."

He sets his wine glass down on a nearby table, his movements slow and deliberate.

A smile plays at Aegon's lips, equal parts charming and dangerous. He takes a step closer, his body pressing against yours, pinning you to the window. The cold glass against your back contrasts deliciously with the heat of his skin.

"Oh, I know you're not the same girl," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. "That's what makes this so damn exciting." 

His hand slides up your side, his fingertips trailing fire in their wake. He cups your breast, squeezing gently, his thumb brushing over your hardened nipple through the thin fabric of your dress.

"I want to explore every inch of this new you," he growls, his hot breath fanning over your neck. "I want to taste you, touch you, make you scream my name until you forget about any other man who's ever touched you."

His other hand tangles in your hair, tugging your head back to expose the column of your throat. He nips at your pulse point, his teeth grazing your skin.

"Tell me you want this," he demands, his voice rough with need. "Tell me you need me as much as I need you."

His hips press against yours, the evidence of his arousal pressing insistently against your core. You gasp at the contact, your head falling back against the window. The wine glass slips from your fingers, shattering on the hardwood floor below. The sound seems to spur him on, his kisses becoming more desperate, more urgent.

You yelp in surprise as Aegon rips your dress open, exposing your breasts to the cool night air. Your nipples immediately harden, pebbling under his intense gaze. The sound of shattering glass below only heightens your senses, the wine pooling around your bare feet.

He tears at your dress, the fabric ripping under his hands as he exposes your breasts to the cool air. He takes one in his mouth, his tongue swirling around your nipple as his hand palms your other breast.

"Fuck," he groans, the sound muffled against your skin. "You feel even better than I remembered."

His hand trails down your stomach, slipping beneath the hem of your skirt. He cups your sex, his fingers pressing against your clothed slit.

"Fuck," you mewl, arching your back as he sucks on your sensitive nipples. Pleasure shoots straight to your core, making your toes curl against the hardwood floor. Your hands, now free from holding your glass, tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him on.

Desperation consumes you, your body aching for more of his touch. You grind against him, the evidence of your arousal soaking through your thin panties.

Aegon groans against your breast, the sound primal and needy. His fingers dip beneath your panties, stroking through your slick folds. "Fuck, you're so wet for me already," he growls, his fingers circling your clit. "I've barely touched you, and you're ready to come undone."

He sinks to his knees, his hands gripping your thighs as he pushes your skirt up around your waist. His hot breath fans over your exposed sex, making you shiver with anticipation. "I'm going to taste every inch of you," he promises, his voice low and husky.

His tongue laps at your slit, the first brush of his mouth against your sensitive flesh drawing a sharp gasp from your lungs. He explores you with a thoroughness that borders on reverence, his tongue delving deep, tasting your essence.

"Gods, you taste divine," he moans, his words vibrating against your most intimate parts. "I could spend hours worshipping this pussy."

His hands grip your hips, holding you steady as he feasts on you. He licks and sucks and nibbles until you're a writhing, desperate mess, your fingers tangled in his hair as you grind against his face.

"Gods," you whimper, your thighs trembling with the effort to hold yourself up. "You're doing so good," you praise him in a breathy tone, trembling.

Your head thrashes against the window, the cool glass a sharp contrast to the heat of his mouth. 

He chuckles darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. He teases you, his tongue flicking over your clit.

"Mmh, yeah?" You continue, letting out a pornographic moan as you grind your hips, dragging your wet heat against Aegon's eager tongue. You're thankful no one can see you through these floor-to-ceiling windows, high up in the sky as you are. The wet sounds of his licking fill the room, mingling with your pleasure-filled cries. "You're so good," you whimper, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. You're lost in the sensations, your mind hazing over with lust. You never want this moment to end.

Aegon growls against your sex, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through your core. He doubles his efforts, his tongue delving deeper, exploring every fold and crevice.

"You taste even sweeter than I remembered," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "I could feast on this pretty pussy for hours."

He teases your entrance with the tip of his tongue before plunging inside, fucking you with deep, deliberate strokes. Your walls clench around him, desperate for more friction.

"That's it, baby," he coaxes, his voice muffled against your flesh. "Let go for me. Come on my tongue."

His fingers join in, two digits pumping in and out of your dripping channel. The dual stimulation is almost too much, pushing you to the brink of ecstasy.

Aegon moans against your heated flesh, the sound muffled but no less affecting. He laps at your slit like a man starved, his tongue delving deep, stroking along your inner walls. His nose nudges your clit, the sensation making you see stars.

Your thighs begin to shake, your body tensing as your climax approaches. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," you chant, your voice rising in pitch. "Don't stop, don't stop, I'm gonna... I'm gonna...!"

Aegon redoubles his efforts, sucking hard on your clit as he curls his fingers inside you, hitting that perfect spot. Your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, your vision whiting out as pleasure consumes you.

You come hard against his mouth, your juices flooding his tongue and chin. He laps it up greedily, prolonging your pleasure until you're boneless and spent against the window.

He releases your thighs, letting you slide down the window to the floor.

You whimper as your body slumps against the floor, your thighs spread wide, juices trickling down your trembling legs. Chest heaving, you struggle to catch your breath, the cold wood a sharp contrast to the heat still simmering under your skin. You can feel Aegon's heated gaze on your exposed body, his dark eyes roaming over your flushed flesh.

You lift your head, meeting his intense stare. Your lips curve into a sultry smile, even as your heart races. "I'd almost forgotten just how good you were with your tongue." You purr, your voice husky with satisfaction.

You spread your legs wider, giving him an unobstructed view of your glistening sex.

Aegon's eyes darken with lust as he takes in the sight of your splayed form. His gaze is hungry, raking over every inch of your exposed flesh like he wants to devour you whole.

"Oh, I'm just getting started, baby," he promises, his voice low and rough. "That was just the appetizer."

He stands, towering over you. His pants tent obscenely, the outline of his thick cock clearly visible. Your eyes widen as you take in the sheer size of him.

"Like what you see?" he asks, a smirk on his lips. He palms himself through his pants.

"Bedroom. Now," he commands, voice rough with need.

He scoops you up into his arms, carrying you towards the bedroom. You wrap your legs around his waist, your dress hanging off your shoulders, your breasts bared to the cool air.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard, you'll forget your own name," he promises, his hand reaching for his belt. "I'm going to claim this sweet cunt, make it mine."

Your heart races at his words, your body already eager for more. Anticipation coils tight in your belly, your pussy clenching around nothing, aching to be filled.

You gasp as Aegon kicks open the bedroom door, throwing you onto the plush mattress. Your heart races, your pulse pounding in your ears as he looms over you, his eyes dark with hunger. His shirt is rumpled, his hair a tousled mess from my eager hands.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, your breasts heaving with each ragged breath. Anticipation courses through your veins, your thighs rubbing together in a desperate bid for friction.

Your eyes lock onto his tall, muscular form as he stalks towards the bed, each step deliberate and full of promise. "Gods," you whimper, your pussy clenching in anticipation. "Please, Aegon... I need you."

Your plea falls on eager ears. Aegon practically rips his shirt off over his head, his lean muscles flexing with the movement. His pants quickly follow, joining the growing pile of discarded clothing on the floor.

He stands before you, gloriously naked. His cock juts proudly from his body, thick and hard and ready. The bulbous head is already glistening with precum, pulsing with each heartbeat. He strokes himself slowly, his thumb swirling around the head, smearing the bead of precum that's gathered there.

"Fuck," you breathe, your tongue darting out to wet your suddenly dry lips. "You're huge."

Aegon smirks, clearly pleased by your reaction. He crawls onto the bed, his large frame blanketing your smaller one. You can feel the heat of his skin, the hard planes of his muscles pressing against you deliciously.

He captures your mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue plundering the warm cavern of your mouth. His hands roam your body, tweaking your nipples, stroking your sides, gripping your hips. He sets your nerve endings alight everywhere he touches.

"Fuck, you're so damn perfect," he growls, his voice rough with need. "I can't wait to be inside you again."

He notches the head of his cock against your entrance, teasing you with shallow thrusts. You whimper at the contact, your hips bucking up to meet him.

"Please," you beg, your hips rocking shamelessly against his thick shaft. "I need you inside me. Now."

Aegon obliges, notching the thick head of his cock at your entrance. He teases you, rubbing your clit with the tip of his cock, making you delirious with need. He notches the head of his cock against your entrance, teasing you with shallow thrusts. You whimper at the contact, your hips bucking up to meet him.

He pushes forward, the thick head of his cock popping past your entrance. You moan at the stretch, your pussy struggling to accommodate his girth. It's intense, bordering on uncomfortable, but the ache is quickly swallowed up by pleasure.

He sinks deeper, inch by inch until he's fully sheathed inside you. You feel impossibly full, stuffed to the brim with his hard cock. Your inner walls flutter around him, trying to adjust to the intrusion.

"Gods," you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders. "You're so deep in me."

Aegon grins down at you, looking immensely pleased with himself. He rolls his hips, grinding against your cervix. Sparks of pleasure shoot up your spine, making your toes curl against the sheets.

"Gods," he groans, his voice strained with pleasure. "You feel like heaven around my cock."

He sets a brutal pace, pounding into you with abandon. The bed creaks beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful thrust.

Screams of pleasure keep falling from your lips, your eyes rolled back and your back arching. You've never felt so stretched out and filled before. The pleasure clouds your mind as you mumble incoherent pleas and praises.

"Oh gods, Aegon, yes! Fuck, you're so deep! Harder, please!"

Your nails scratch his back, leaving red marks as evidence of your passionate encounter.

"Ungh, you're fucking wrecking me," you whimper, your pussy clenching around his pistoning cock.

Your thighs quiver, your toes curling as you lose yourself to the relentless pleasure. At that moment you knew, you weren't going to be able to walk tomorrow.

Aegon pounds into you relentlessly, the bed creaking beneath your joined bodies. His cock hits your cervix with each powerful thrust, sending lightning bolts of pleasure shooting up your spine.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he grunts, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips.

"Gods," you moan, your back arching off the bed. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

Aegon complies, fucking into you with renewed vigour. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your cries of pleasure.

"Fuck, you take my cock so well," he praises, his voice strained with pleasure. "I'm going to ruin you for anyone else."

Sweat beads on his brow, his muscles rippling with exertion. He leans down, capturing one of your bouncing nipples in his mouth. He suckles hard, his teeth grazing the sensitive bud, sending sparks of pleasure-pain shooting straight to your core.

Aegon's thick cock stretches you so deliciously, filling you in ways you've never experienced before. Tears gather in the corners of your eyes, spilling down your cheeks as pleasure overwhelms you.

"Aegon, oh fuck!" You whimper, your voice is high and needy. "You feel so good, so deep inside me."

Your words tumble out in a desperate stream, barely coherent. Your mind is foggy, consumed by the relentless pleasure of his cock pounding into your wet heat.

You cling to him, your nails scoring red lines down his back as you hold on for dear life. "Harder," you beg, your voice strained. "Ruin me for any other man."

Aegon obliges with a smirk, fucking into you with a ferocity that steals your breath. The bed creaks in protest, the headboard slamming against the wall with each punishing thrust. But you don't care, lost in the haze of pleasure, your body a willing vessel for his desire.

Your legs wrap around his waist, ankles locking behind his back, urging him deeper. You can feel every thick inch of him stretching you, filling you, owning you. It's intense and overwhelming, but you never want it to stop.

"Yes, yes, yes," you chant, your head thrashing against the pillows. "Don't stop, please Aegon, don't ever stop fucking me like this." Your pussy clenches around him, greedy for more, desperate to milk his cock.

Your body writhes beneath Aegon's as he continues his relentless assault on your senses. His thick cock stretches you, fills you, reaches depths you didn't know existed.

"Gods, you're so fucking tight," he groans, his fingers digging into your hips. "I'm going to ruin this sweet cunt."

You're beyond words, lost to the sensation of him moving inside you. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body, your toes curling.

"Ungh, so big," you mewl, your nails raking down his back.

Aegon smiles wickedly down at you, his eyes glazed with lust. He leans down, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss. His tongue plunders your mouth, mimicking the motions of his cock in your pussy.

He breaks the kiss, trailing his lips down your jaw, your neck. He sucks hard at your pulse point, leaving a dark bruise in his wake. His teeth graze your skin, adding a delicious sting to the pleasure.

Aegon continues to pound into you, relentless in his pursuit of your pleasure. His cock is like a battering ram, each thrust driving you further into the mattress. The wet, obscene sound of flesh slapping against flesh fills the room, a lewd background noise to accompany your loud moans.

"That's it, take it," he growls, his hips snapping against yours. "Take my fucking cock."

His hands roam your body, squeezing, kneading, leaving red marks on your skin. He pinches your nipples, rolling them between his fingers, sending sparks of pleasure straight to your core."Fuck, you're so responsive," he praises, his voice rough with desire. "Love how you moan for me, how you beg for my cock."

"Gods, I could fuck this pussy forever," he groans, his hips never ceasing their relentless motion. "So tight, so wet, so fucking perfect."

His words wash over you, stoking the fire burning in your belly. Your pussy clenches around him, trying to draw him deeper, desperate for more of him.

Your eyes must be permanently rolled into the back of your head, absolutely lost in the waves of pleasure crashing over you. No coherent words escape your lips, only loud screams of ecstasy and desperate whimpers.

Aegon's thick cock stretches you and fills you utterly as he pounds into you with abandon. Your pussy clenches around him like a vice, making it impossibly difficult for him to move. But he doesn't stop, grinding his pelvis against your clit with each relentless thrust.

The familiar heat builds in your core, the telltale tension coiling tighter and tighter in your belly. You bring two fingers to your mouth, sucking them hard, drenching them in your saliva. You imagine it's his fat cock between your lips, the taste of him on your tongue.

Pulling your fingers from your mouth, you reach between your legs, finding my swollen clit. You rub the sensitive nub in fast, tight circles, your legs already starting to tremble.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" You cry out, your back arching off the bed. "I'm so close, I'm gonna cum!"

Your fingers work furiously at your clit as Aegon continues pounding into you from above. His cock is relentless, each powerful thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body.

"That's it, touch yourself," he encourages you, his voice rough with lust. "Make yourself cum on my cock."

You're so close, teetering on the edge of oblivion. Your thighs begin to tremble as your climax builds, your pussy clenching tightly around Aegon's thick shaft.

"I'm gonna..." you barely manage to gasp out, your words dissolving into a high-pitched keen as your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave. Your entire body seizes up, back arching off the bed as wave after wave of pleasure pulses through you.

"Fuck!" you wail, your voice echoing off the walls. Your pussy spasms almost violently around Aegon's cock, desperately milking him. You're lost to the sensation, drowning in pleasure.

Aegon fucks you through it, not letting up for a second. His own climax builds rapidly, his hips snapping against yours with bruising force.

"Fuck, gonna cum," he growls, his voice strained. 

"Gods, you're squeezing me so fucking tight," he groans, his rhythm starting to stutter. "Gonna fill this pussy up with my cum. Breed this tight cunt, make you mine."

His dirty words send another shock of pleasure through you, your pussy clamping down hard on his cock.

"Please," you beg, your voice ragged. "Cum in me, Aegon. Fill me up, make me yours."

With a guttural groan, Aegon buries himself to the hilt, his cock throbbing as he empties himself inside you. You feel the hot splash of his cum painting your inner walls, marking you as his.

Aegon rolls off of you, his cock slipping out of your sore, abused pussy. You whimper at the loss, feeling empty without him inside you.

Your body is covered in a fine sheen of sweat, your hair a wild tangle around your face. Your cunt throbs, sensitive and abused from the intense fucking.

Aegon pulls you into his arms, nuzzling your neck. "You're mine," he murmurs, his voice low and possessive. "My little dove."

You snuggle into his embrace, trying to catch your breath. Your thighs already ache from the rough treatment, a delicious soreness that you know will linger for days.

As you shift slightly, you feel Aegon's hot seed dripping out of you, staining the white sheets below. Without thinking, you reach down, scooping up some of the mixture of your releases. You bring your fingers to your mouth, licking them clean.

Aegon watches with hooded eyes as you lick your fingers clean, savouring the taste of his release mixed with yours. His cock already twitching back to life at the erotic sight. He chuckles lowly, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

"Fuck, that's hot," he murmurs, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. He tilts your face towards him, claiming your mouth in a filthy kiss.

Aegon rolls, flipping you onto his chest. Your legs straddling his hips, your slick folds against his semi-hard cock. Even spent, he's massive, the thick length pressing insistently against your sensitive flesh.

"I'm nowhere near done with you," he promises darkly, his hands roaming your back, your sides, your ass. He squeezes the globes, his fingers digging into the flesh.

"Gonna mark up this sweet body," he vows, his voice a low rumble. "Leave hickeys on these pretty tits, bite marks on this tight pussy, bruises on these lush thighs."

He punctuates each word with a squeeze, a grope, a pinch. His touch is possessive, and greedy, like he can't get enough of you. Like he wants to stake his claim, show the world that you belong to him.

"Everyone will know you're mine," he growls, his grip tightening. "My pretty little plaything. Mine."

The filthy words make you clench, your abused cunt throbbing with need.

You grind your aching, messy cunt along Aegon's thick shaft, shivering from the overstimulation. You tease him, dragging your slick folds along his length without letting him slip inside.

"Mmm, yeah?" You moan, your voice breathy with desire. "You don't want anyone else to fuck this sweet pussy anymore, huh? Want me all to yourself?"

You lean down, your lips brushing his ear. "Well, if that's the case, then you're also mine. No other woman is ever going to even come close to making you feel the way I do."

You punctuate your words with a slow grind, your slick folds gliding along his hardness. "And if they even dare come near you," you purr, your finger trailing along his sharp jawline, "well, I have the money and the power to make that tramp disappear."

You smirk down at him, your eyes glinting with mischief and dark promise. "You're mine, Aegon."

Aegon's eyes darken with lust at your words, a predatory grin spreading across his face. He reaches up, fisting a hand in your hair and yanking your head back. His other hand lands a sharp smack on your ass, the sting radiating through your sensitive flesh.

"Fuck," he growls, his hips bucking up, trying to bury himself inside you. "Love it when you talk like that." The notion of you ridding him of any competition, of you fighting for him, for your claim on him... it's almost too much. His cock twitches, leaking precum, smearing your folds with the slick fluid.

"I'll burn this world down to keep you," Aegon vows, his eyes blazing with intensity. "Tear apart anyone who tries to come between us."

"Good," you purr, your voice dripping with satisfaction. "Because I don't share what's mine."

Your words are punctuated by another slow grind, your slick folds gliding along his hardness. He shudders beneath you, his hands tightening on your hips.

"Fuck, the things you do to me," he groans, his hips bucking up to meet yours. "You're going to ruin me for anyone else."

He yanks you down, crushing your lips in a bruising kiss. His tongue delves into your mouth, claiming, conquering. He bites at your lower lip, soothing the sting with his tongue.

"I'll fuck this sweet cunt raw. Ruin you for anyone else."

Another sharp smack to your ass, his fingers digging into the tender flesh. He's marking you, claiming you, staking his possession over you.

"No one else will ever make you feel as good as I do," he promises, his hips rolling, grinding his hard cock against your slick folds. "No one else will ever satisfy you like I can."

He buries his face between your breasts. He licks and sucks at the soft skin, leaving dark hickeys blooming on your flesh. He bites down on one pert nipple, soothing the sting with his tongue.

"Mine," he growls against your breast, punctuating the word with a sharp nip. "This body, this pussy, these tits, all fucking mine. Gonna fuck this pussy raw, make it remember the shape of my cock. You won't be able to sit for a week after I'm done with you."

His hands roam over your curves, squeezing, kneading, leaving red marks on your skin. He's possessive, insatiable like he can't get enough of you.

"Gonna fuck you in every room of this house," he vows, his voice rough with desire. "Gonna claim you in front of everyone, show the world who you belong to."

You couldn't take it anymore, your aching cunt clenching around nothing, your juices leaking down his thick cock and onto his thighs. You needed him inside you, stretching you, filling you. Guiding your hips, you sank down onto his thick cock, taking him to the hilt in one smooth motion. A guttural moan tore from your throat, your eyes rolling back at the sensation of being so full. As soon as you felt his thickness back inside you, your mind went blank.

Aegon groans as you sink down onto his cock, your tight heat engulfing him. His hands fly to your hips, gripping tightly, guiding you as you ride him.

"Fuck, so good," he pants, his head falling back onto the pillow. "Love feeling this pussy squeezing my cock."

You begin to move, rising up until just the tip remains inside, before slamming back down, taking him to the hilt. The obscene sound of your skin slapping against his fills the room, mingling with your moans and his grunts.

"That's it, baby," Aegon encourages, his hands sliding up your sides, squeezing your breasts. "Ride my cock. Show me how much you love it."

You lose yourself in the pleasure, your hips undulating, your pace growing faster and harder. The bed creaks beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful thrust.

Aegon's hands are everywhere, gripping your hips, your waist, your tits. He pinches your nipples, and rolls them between his fingers, sending sparks of pleasure straight to your core.

"Fuck, I love watching you bounce on my cock," he growls, his hips snapping up to meet yours. "So fucking hot."

The sight of you lost in pleasure, your tits bouncing, your head thrown back in ecstasy... it's enough to drive him wild. He'd never get enough of you, never get tired of seeing you unravel on his cock.

You switch between bouncing on his thick cock and grinding yourself down, the lewd sounds of your skin slapping filling the room. If the walls weren’t soundproof, the entire tower would hear your moans. You throw your head back as you lose yourself in the overwhelming pleasure.

By now your moans resemble those of a cam-girl, your eyes squeezed shut and brows furrowed in pleasure.

"Fuck! Yesss!" You whine in pleasure, your thighs shaking from exhaustion already.

Aegon watches you intently as you bounce on his cock, your pleasure-filled moans driving him wild. The sight of you losing control, your eyes squeezing shut, your face contorted in ecstasy... it's the most erotic thing he's ever seen.

"That's it, baby," he encourages, his hands gripping your hips, helping guide your movements. "Ride my cock just like that. Fuck, you look so hot."

You're a vision of debauchery, your hair a wild mess, your skin flushed and glistening with sweat. The lewd sounds of your bodies coming together fill the room, the wet slap of skin on skin mingling with your wanton moans.

Aegon can feel his own release building, his balls tightening, his cock throbbing inside you. He wants to make this last, to draw out your pleasure, but he's only human. The feel of your tight heat gripping him, the sight of you unravelling on top of him... it's too much.

"Fuck, I'm getting close," he grunts, his hips snapping up to meet yours. "Gonna fill this pussy up again."

Aegon sits up, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. The new angle allows him to go even deeper, the head of his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you.

"Wanna feel me cum inside you," he growls, his teeth latching onto your neck. "Wanna breed this pussy, make you mine."

"Oh gods, Aegon!" You cry out, your voice breaking on a scream of pleasure as he starts slamming into you from a new angle. Your words dissolve into incoherent babbles of ecstasy as your body goes pliant in his arms, surrendering completely to his possession. "Too much, it's too much!"

But even as you utter the words, you know they're a lie. There's no such thing as too much with Aegon. His powerful thrusts drive you to the edge of madness, each stroke igniting sparks of pure bliss.

You let your head fall against his shoulder, giving yourself over to the pleasure. Your body goes limp in his embrace, letting him fuck you as he wants

Your eyes flutter shut, your lashes casting shadows on your flushed cheeks. You're lost to the sensation. Your body is no longer your own, it belongs to Aegon, to be used for his pleasure.

And gods help me, you've never been happier.

Aegon can feel your body go pliant in his arms, your surrender absolute. The knowledge that you've given yourself over to him, that your pleasure is in his hands... it's heady, intoxicating.

"That's it," he murmurs against your ear, his hips never ceasing their relentless pace. "Let go. Surrender to me, to this pleasure."

You're a vision of debauchery in his arms, your head lolling against his shoulder, your face contorted in ecstasy. He drinks in the sight of you and memorizes every inch of your pleasure-drunk expression.

Aegon's hands roam your body, possessive, greedy. He wants to touch every inch of you and mark you as his. His fingers dip between your thighs, finding your clit. He rubs tight circles around the sensitive nub, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Gonna cum for me, baby," he growls, his hips pistoning faster, harder. "Gonna make this pussy mine."

Aegon can feel his own release building, his balls tightening, his cock throbbing inside you. He wants to make this last, to draw out your pleasure, but he's only human. The feel of your tight heat gripping him, the sight of you unravelling in his arms... it's too much.

"Fuck," he grunts, his hips snapping up one final time. "Take it, take my cum."

Aegon buries his face in your neck, muffling his groans against your skin. His cock pulses inside you, flooding your womb with his hot seed. He fills you up again and again, marking you, claiming you, making you his.

Aftershocks of pleasure ripple through Aegon's body, his hips still rocking gently, drawing out his release. He stays buried inside you, his softening cock plugging up his cum. He never wants this moment to end, wants to stay joined with you forever.

A high-pitched moan tears from your throat as you cum, your hips bucking wildly against Aegon's. Pleasure crashes over you in waves, your body shuddering and convulsing in his arms. You are lost to the sensation, drowning in ecstasy.

Your walls clench and flutter around his cock, milking him for all he's worth. You feel him twitch and throb inside you, his own release triggered by mine. He groans lowly, his hips grinding into yours as he fills you up with his hot seed.

It's so much, more than you can handle. You can feel it painting your gummy walls, marking you as his. Some of it spills out around his shaft, trickling down my thighs. The obscene sensation makes you mewl, your hips still weakly rocking against his.

You are spent, boneless, your body going limp in his embrace. Your heart races and your breath comes in short, sharp gasps. You have never felt pleasure like this before, never been so thoroughly claimed and used.

Aegon groans lowly at the feel of your walls clenching around him, milking his cock for all it's worth. Your release triggers his own, his hips grinding into yours as he fills you up with his hot seed.

He buries his face in your neck, muffling his groans against your skin. Each pulsing spurt of his cum seems to last forever, painting your insides, marking you as his. He grinds into you, making sure every last drop finds its home deep inside your womb.

When he finally pulls back, he's left breathless, his chest heaving. He looks down at you, a satisfied smirk on his face.

"Fuck," he murmurs, his fingers trailing lazy patterns on your sweat-slick skin. "You took my cock so well, baby. Such a good girl, so eager to be filled."

He reaches down, scooping some of his cum that's leaked out onto your thighs. He brings his fingers to your lips, slick with his essence.

"Clean up my mess, baby," he commands, his voice low and husky. "Lick up every last drop."

But even as he gives the order, Aegon's touching you gently, tenderly. He cups your face, brushing away the damp strands of hair from your forehead. He peppers soft kisses across your face, coaxing a smile from your lips.

"You're mine now," he whispers, his eyes boring into yours. "I'm never letting you go."

You gaze down at Aegon through your lashes as you take his cum-coated fingers into your mouth. You bob your head, your tongue swirling around the digits, cleaning them of his thick seed. 

Aegon's eyes darken as he watches you service him. "Stay with me," he pleads, his voice raw with emotion. "Be mine, only mine. I'll give you anything you want, everything you want. Just don't leave me."

Your heart races at his words. You smile around his fingers, reassuring him of your devotion.

"I'm not going anywhere," you murmur once you've cleaned his fingers. You press a soft kiss on his palm. "I'm yours, Aegon. Forever."

Aegon gazes up at you with a mixture of relief and gratitude. Your words wash over him like a soothing balm.

He cups your face in his hands, tilting his chin up to meet your gaze. "You promise?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. "You'll stay by my side, no matter what?"

You nod, your eyes shining with sincerity. "I promise," you vow, pressing your lips to his in a soft kiss. "I'm yours, Aegon. For better or worse, for richer or poorer..."

Aegon's heart swells at your words, a warmth spreading through his chest. He knows he doesn't deserve your devotion, knows he hasn't earned it. But gods, does he want to.

He leans forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. It's not gentle, not tender. It's a claiming, a branding, a marking of what's his. When he finally pulls back, you're both breathless, your lips swollen and glistening.

"I love you," Aegon murmurs against your mouth, the words slipping out unbidden. "I love you so fucking much it hurts."

He's never said those words to anyone before, never even come close. But with you, it feels right, feels true. Like it was always meant to be this way.

"You're my everything," he continues, his arms wrapping around your waist, holding you close. "My heart, my soul, my reason for living. I can't imagine my life without you in it."

Aegon buries his face in your hair, inhaling deeply. You smell like home, like belonging. Like everything he's ever wanted but never dared to dream of.

"Stay with me," he pleads, his voice cracking with emotion. "Have my babies, grow old with me. Let me love you the way you deserve to be loved."

Aegon knows he's asking for a lot.

Aegon's words hit you like a freight train, stealing the breath from your lungs. I love you. Three simple words that carry the weight of the world. 

For a moment, you're transported back in time. To when you were just a couple of lovesick teenagers, sneaking out under the cover of darkness. You can almost hear the crash of the waves, and feel the sand beneath your bare feet. 

You look at Aegon now, your heart swelling with emotion. He's the same boy you fell for all those years ago. The same boy who confessed his feelings to you, his eyes wide with vulnerability.

And now, he's yours. Completely and utterly yours. You're not going to walk away again, not this time.

You cup his face in your hands, your thumb tracing the line of his jaw. "I love you too," you murmur, your voice trembling with the depth of your emotions. "I never stopped loving you."

You lean in, closing the distance between you. Your lips meet in a soft, tender kiss. It's a promise, a vow, a declaration of forever.

When you finally pull apart, you rest my forehead against his. "Let me have your babies, grow old with me, live on a farm for the rest of our days. Let me love you the way you deserve to be loved."

You've waited your whole life for this moment. For Aegon to be yours, body and soul. And now that you have him, you're never letting go.

Aegon's heart soars at your words, your promise of forever. He feels like he's floating like he's on top of the world. You're his, completely and utterly his. And he's yours, now and always.

He kisses you back, pouring all his love, his devotion, his gratitude into the embrace. It's a kiss that says I'm here, I'm yours, I'll never leave you. Not now, not ever.

When you pull back, Aegon rests his forehead against yours, his eyes searching yours. They're shining with unshed tears, with a joy he's never known before.

"You're my whole world," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "My beginning and my end. I can't imagine my life without you in it."

Aegon's hands roam your body, mapping out the curves and dips he's come to know so well. He traces the line of your spine, the swell of your breasts, the flare of your hips. Each touch is reverent and worshipful.

"I'm going to make you the happiest woman in the world," he promises, his lips brushing against your cheek. "I'm going to love you, cherish you, worship you. Every. Single. Day."

[haikyu-mp4]

it’s a rainy day at summer camp. one of the few evenings that greeted you with bad weather instead of the setting sun, and the result was Fukurodani’s volleyball team gathered around a small tv and taking turns in a Mario Kart tournament.

you walked into the room with an order from the coach to tell everyone to quiet down, and was intrigued by the choice of game and their lack of talent in it. “you guys suck.”

everyone who wasn't playing at the moment turned abruptly, some squinting suspiciously and some laughing. “think you could do better?”

and so you were thrown into the tournament, and oh boy did you knock them off their pedestals. they didn’t stand a chance.

it earned you almost everyone’s desserts from dinner the day after, and you happily munched on pudding cup after pudding cup while they pouted about it. you shared plenty of them with the other girls as well, and you all enjoyed their defeat thoroughly.

fast forward one year later, Bokuto has made friends with Nekoma’s captain, making Fukurodani and Nekoma closer than they were with the other teams.

when Bokuto is particularly annoyed with Kuroo’s taunting after he missed some spikes in a practice game, he challenges him to a round of Mario Kart after dinner. Fukurodani vs Nekoma, choose your fighter style.

Kuroo walks into Fukurodani’s room that evening, carrying Kenma along while the setter is still playing on his console and not even paying attention. the captain looks smug, confident in his best friend’s ability to win. until he sees Bokuto standing with his arms crossed and shielding their chosen fighter.

a couple of the others from Nekoma’s team had joined, curious as to why Bokuto would challenge them in video games when he knew Kenma was there. “why do you look so smug?” Kuroo asks suspiciously.

“because we brought our secret weapon,” he answered, dramatically moving to the side and gesturing towards you. you sat patiently on a pillow, waving at the other team and smiling brightly.

“hi, guys!”

Kuroo laughed, letting go of Kenma and waving back at you. “y/n, fancy seeing you here.”

Bokuto rudely pressed his hand into Kuroo’s face. “none of that, don’t distract our player before the match!”

and while they fought, Kenma sat down beside you, finally turning off his console as you held out the other controller for him. “making me second player, hm?” you laughed at his remark, nodding.

“home base is always first player,” you teased. Konoha patted you on the back and smirked at Kenma.

“you don’t stand a chance.”

he did stand a chance. it was a close race, and you must admit you broke a sweat using every little trick you could think of.

however, it was just a chance. one he didn’t master, and you ended up with a clear victory after a mystery box gifted you with three glorious red shells on the second round, ruining any head start he might have gained.

the whole of Fukurodani’s team got up and cheered, many shaking your shoulders or ruffling your hair to praise your efforts. you looked to the side, ready to taunt Kenma a bit, but he was already staring at you. his catlike eyes made you flustered, and you quickly looked away. “I’m going to bed. good game, Kenma!”

Kenma watched the highlight reel after you left, and Kuroo had to practically drag him out of there as he could barely accept his loss. red shells don’t always mean you win. how you use them matters, and you use them perfectly. the way you drifted as well was beyond any technique he had seen before in real life.

the day after, Kenma comes over to you table with his dessert as a peace offering, and sits down across from you with his head down. “so you’re a gamer, what else do you play?”

“not really a gamer, my cousin just always brought Mario Kart for family holidays.”

Kenma stared at the table for two minutes in silence as you continued eating your lunch and chatting with your team’s other managers until he finally broke out of his trance. “can you teach me?”

“sure, catboy.” you were already eating the pudding cup, giving him a teasing wink now that he seemed so shy. this was the start of a blooming friendship.

masterlist

/when me n @cottonlemonade start brainstorming, great things happen

/this is a drabble in my head but it’s way too long for that… also, what do you think nekoma owes fukurodani after losing??

[eddiesxangel]

My Little Bunny | Older!Eddie x Reader

For Evie, @oneforthemunny prompt for her writing challenge. “based off the lore that older!eddie gets slutty on tequila lol. gimme tequila eddie. make it slutty. the og prompt was at the beach for a wedding of a cousin, if you’d like to follow that, but if not- where does it happen? how do you think it would go? don’t spare a single detail please!!!!” I hope I did your man justice 😘 happy one year!

Happy new year! Here is some smut to start the year off right.

This is pure filth, don’t look at me🫣

Cw: age gap, oral, p in v, ass play, anal. Minors DNI. Only slightly proofread so if you see a spelling mistake… no you didn’t 😤

“Bunnnnnnnnnnnnnny” Eddie slurred. The man could not handle his liquor. But neither could you.

After what happened and the wedding, Eddie swore he wouldn’t drink tequila for a very long time. However, tonight was special. Tonight, the baby was with your parents, and Bri was off with your sister for the evening. It was just you. And Eddie. Alone for the first time in what felt like years. Eddie was wining and dining with you tonight.

You convinced him to go to a bar to dance. Well, you danced, he watched. He watched your body; he loved the new curves you got from bringing Delilah into the world. You returned to the bar where he was sitting and ordered four tequila shots. Eddie had been nursing a beer all night; he was shocked at your drink of choice.

“Bunny you know what happens when I drink this…” giving you a stern look.

“Maybe I wanna get a little freaky tonight…. It’s been so long” you run your hands up and down his chest.

“I don’t know”

“What if I gave you an insensitive?”

“And what would that be?”

“I want you to fuck my ass tonight” you whispered against your husband’s ear.

“Bunnnnnnnnnnnnnny” Eddie slured again as you both stumbled into your home.

“Fuck I need you. I need your tight ass so bad”

You can’t keep your hands off one another. Your lips are attached to his neck, and your hands run up and down his body. You barely make it through the front door before your hands are trying to get down his pants.

Somehow, you make it to the bedroom. You were stripping your man with each step. Something inside of you was burning, and Eddie was the only thing to put it out. A visceral ache in your core, screaming at you to do something about it.

“I need you, I need you so bad,” you whined because he wasn’t moving fast enough. You were already on the bed waiting for him.

Eddie giggled as he tried to unbutton his dress shirt, but it didn’t seem to work.

“Come here,” Eddie coxed you closer to him. “I need your help.”

“Arms up,” your mom instincts kicked in, and you pulled off Eddie’s shirt in one swift motion.

Without hesitation, you worked on his pants the second your fingertips left the fabric of his shirt. Your nimble fingers worked his belt, button, and zipper, and finally, why you craved most was released before you.

"God, you're so hot! How did I land a wife so fucking hot?"

You let Eddie cup your face, kissing you as he pushes you back onto the bed. His tongue parted your lips, and you gladly let him take charge.

It was needy and messy but so deliciously delightful. You missed your hundreds touch. You’d been so busy being a new mom, and Eddie tried picking up extra shifts to make a little more cash so you could take a nice vacation this summer. You hardly spent time together. You needed this. He needed this. The fire in his belly was also burning the second you mentioned your perfect tight little hole wanting to be stretched and pounded by his cock.

“You gonna be my good little bunny?” Eddie spoke as he slinked down your body so his face was level with your throbbing pussy.

“Yes!” You had zero patients, and he thought it was cute.

“Well then... You gotta get nice and wet, f’me”

“Already ammmmm” you wined again. Why was he prolonging this?

“Oh is she? I guess I’ll just have to see for myself.” Eddie didn’t spare another second. His hands wrenched your legs open, pressing them as far as they could reach.

You let out a moan of pleasure when his mouth finally attached to your lower lips.

Eddie needed to taste you. He usually didn’t do this often, but tonight you deserved to be thoroughly fucked. He needed to feel you cumming in his mouth, to taste you, to feel you. His eyes rolled back into his head as he moaned into your pussy.

“Looks like you were right, baby bunny, and you taste so good. Just can’t get enough,” Eddie dove back in, flicking and licking at your clit. Your body was so reactive to him tonight. Let’s thank the tequila because it didn’t take much to make you cum from his mouth.

“Baby, I’m so close”

“Already? But I just started playing with her” he pouted.

“Yes! P-please.” You stuttered.

“You wanna cum? You going to cum for me?”

Unexpectedly, Eddie replaced his mouth with his finger just as you were on the brink. Before you could say anything, his finger was inside your wet fold, collecting all of your slick, and was quickly replaced by his mouth again.

You could feel the warmth building back up. Eddie continued to work your clit. All the while, his finger, drenched with your own natural lube, was starting to tease your other hole.

“Oh my god,” you moan as his finger slowly makes its way inside.

“You okay?”

“Don’t stop!” You begged as your first orgasm washes through you.

“Fuck, your tight little ass is sucking me in so good,” Eddie continues to finger you as you ride out your orgasm.

“Good bunny. Turn around, ass up, show me what’s mine.”

You quickly obeyed his orders and flipped around so you could show him what he wanted. You loved when he got possessive.

“Tell me what you want bunny”

“You.”

“Nu-uh,” Eddie tutted. “Be more specific.”

“Edddiiiieee, please, I need you.”

Eddie couldn’t believe your extra brattiness tonight.

“No,” a sharp slap filled the room and your ass stung. “Tell me what you need, Bunny,” he spoke, and he massaged the area he slapped. Soothing your skin.

“Your tongue… and your fingers,” you pant.

“Good little bunny,” he smirked. “You want me to tongue fuck your tight little hole? Get you nice and ready for me?”

“Yes,” you sigh as you arch your back more so Eddie can see more of you.

“Fuck bunny, you’re perfect.” Eddie gripped each cheek, spreading you open before dipping his head down.

When you felt his tongue make contact with your hole, you cried out again. You were revelling in the fact you were in an empty house. You could be as loud as you wanted.

“Mmmmmm, you taste so good, Bunny,” he moaned into you.

“Eddie!”

“Yes, Bunny?”

“More!”

“More what?”

“Please fuck my pussy”

“You’re such a good little slut for me. Good girl telling me what you want…. But is that all you want?” God, he was so condescending.

You let out an irritated huff. “Eddie, please,” you begged as you wiggled your ass in the air to entice him.

“You need to behave, little bunny, or else you’re not going to get what you want.” Eddie’s hands gripped your cheeks tighter.

“I’m sorry, I just need you so badly baby”

“Ohhh, I like that; tell me more.”

“I need you so bad! I’m aching for you. Please.”

“That’s my good girl.

Eddie lined up his cock with your wanton hole and slowly stretched you out.

“Thank you.” You sighed with relief.

His thick long cock stretched out your walls. You couldn’t help yourself as you rocked your body back and forth onto his cock.

“That’s it, bunny. Show me what you really can do” he slapped your ass again. You rocked your knees and hips back onto Eddie’s cock as he stood at the edge of your shared bed.

“Mmmmmm”

“More!”

You felt a wad of spit drip down your ass, lower and lower, until Eddie’s fingers found it and rimmed your picked hole. As you rocked your body against Eddie’s cock he dipped in his single digit, adding another and another until you stretched out.

Your body is screaming; Eddie was making you feel so good.

“Ok, bunny, you’re going to ride me, bounce on this cock and show me how good of a Bunny you are.”

“Yes, please. Need you.”

Eddie pulled out so he could get underneath you, but not before he reached the nightstand to pull out the lube you had stashed away for nights like these.

“You ready for me, baby?” He asked as he covered his cock in the slippery substance.

“Yes,” you swung your leg around his hips, aligning yourself with his hard cock that lay on his stomach.

“My beautiful girl,” he whispered as he guided your hips down onto him.

“Oh fuck” you both grit out in unison.

You watched as Eddie glazed over with lust.

“Fucking so good. Damn, tight.” Eddie gritted through his teeth.

He planted his feet on the mattress to ground himself. His hips started thrusting up into you, matching your strokes.

“Fuck fuck fuck I love the way you take my cock. Tell me how much you love this cock.”

“I love it,” you panted as you bounced on his cock. You felt so full, so complete. So ready for his cock to fill you.

“Baby, touch me,” you commanded.

Eddie dipped his head to take a nipple in his mouth as his hand found your pussy, finding your clit. A rush of pleasure ran through your body as his mouth and hands explored your body.

“Oh baby,” you threw your head back with pleasure.

“How much do you want it, baby bunny?”

“I want it so bad!”

“What do you want?”

“Your cum”

“Sucha little slut, want me to fill your ass with my cum?”

“Yes!”

Eddie’s hand never stopped working your clit. You could feel the pleasure build and build. Your legs were burning, but it was in measure to how Eddie was making you feel.

“You’re close baby I can feel you clenching down on me so tight.” He squeezed his eyes shut with pleasure.

“Cum for me, baby, cum for me, then I’ll fill you up so good you’ll be leaking for days. Do you want that? To feel my cum dripping out of you tomorrow?”

“Fuck. Eddie!” You cried out as your body clenched around his cock, cumming hard.

"Eddie continued to pound into your ass until he unloaded up into you, filling you up just like you begged him to do.

Your body went limp and your soar muscles rested as you lay your weight fully on your husband.

"Remind me again. Why don't I do tequila?" Eddie laughed as his brain released serotonin. "That was amazing." He kissed the top of your head.

"Remember that question tomorrow, big boy." You giggled, and Eddie finally pulled out of you.

"Come on, Bunny, let's get you cleaned up. " Even in his drunken state, he still needed to take care of you.

"Can't move. You fucked me too well." you sighed.

"I think you did most of the work Bun, you fucked me."

"I did, didn't I?" You smile at the realization.

"Don't get cocky now" He slapped your ass, and you jumped up out of bed with Eddie following close behind you.

[knockknockitsnickels]

~✨IMAGINE✨~ You're at a Christmas party. You need to go to the bathroom. You need someone to watch your drink. Whoever could you ask? Observe. Explanations below the cut.

S Tier

Shifty: It's a little beneath her, but sure. She can just get one of her multitudes to watch it until you get back.

Princess and the Dragon: Absolutely. Also could possibly use the weird fusion thing she's got going on to give you live updates on how your drink is doing.

Hunted: Protects your drink with his life. Hisses at anyone who gets too close.

A Tier

Prisoner: Pris is already just sitting blankly in the corner, she doesn't mind doing that and also watching your drink.

Base Princess: She's happy to help, though I could see her getting a bit impatient if you take too long. Still probably one of your best options.

Thorn: Thorn is surprised you trust her and promises to make good on that. If she perceives a threat she swallows your drink whole, glass and all.

Hero: Hero's a nice dude who would probably be happy to watch your drink for you. That said he also strikes me as the kind of guy to forget it's yours and absently take a sip of it.

Spectre: She's happy to watch it for you, but she's also incorporeal, which might hamper her ability to do so. That said, she can probably just de-heart anyone who tries to mess with it.

Adversary : Takes protecting your drink as a challenge and her sacred duty. Beats up anyone who approaches her while she's holding it. Probably spills it everywhere in the process. It's the thought that counts.

B Tier

HEA: She'll probably be happy to watch it for you if you ask but also like. This party is HER moment. She is living her hot girl summer this winter and you should really just leave her to it.

Broken: Likewise with broken, he's not a bad option but you should probably let him have a night off.

Wraith: She's a little annoyed you asked but Wraith strikes me as a girl's girl. She'd probably watch it for you.

Narrator: He's SO mad you asked. "You're not here to have fun, you're here to slay the princess!" (he'll still watch it for you, but he'll complain the entire time).

Fury: Fury gets bored while waiting for you to come back and starts atomizing your drink. She reassembles it before you return but it still tastes a little funny.

C Tier

Stranger: As she exists in her route, probably a bad idea (she's got a lot going on). As the heart princess, however, she's one of your best options (more eyes and hands = extra attention being paid to your drink).

Wounded Wild: She's like SUPER touched you trust her enough to ask but regretfully informs you that she doesn't really have hands to hold it with.

Cage: Cage just leaves her head at a table to watch your drink while the rest of her body does something else. She can't really stop anyone from messing with it but at least she's keeping an eye out for you.

Paranoid: On the one hand he's suspicious of literally everything which might make him a good choice, but on the other hand I feel like he might work himself into a panic attack while you're gone. I'd rather not do that to him.

Damsel: Of course she'll watch your drink for you, if that's what would make you happy! She puts in an honest effort but she's also probably going to forget it on a table somewhere.

The Long Quiet: TLQ is basically just you so idk, what would YOU do? 🤨

D Tier

Cheated: Agrees to watch your drink, then immediately trips and drops it on the floor.

Stubborn: Stubborn's kind of a tossup depending on his mood. If he's already doing something else he's probably not going to help you (additionally, even if you do convince him to help there's a very real chance he'll end up using your glass as a weapon in a bar fight).

Den: Smacks it off a table in typical cat fashion. Seems to feel pretty bad about it after, but doesn't have any money to buy you a new one.

Smitten: Ditches your drink to go flirt with the nearest princess.

Nightmare: It's near impossible to ask, since you can't get close enough to her without your organs shutting down (that said I think she'd probably be cool with it).

Skeptic: I this with love but given Skeptic's track record I think there's a high chance he'll get distracted by some other mystery and forget all about your drink.

M.O.C: Has many arms with which to hold and protect your drink, but also lacks a face with which to watch it.

Wild: Fuses with you into one ultimate being. Now *we're* going to the bathroom.

E Tier

Apotheosis: As you approach her outside (she can't fit in the building) your drink is pulled from your hand by her gravitational force and floats away. You're not getting it back.

Contrarian: While you're gone he dumps your drink out on the floor bc he thinks it'd be funny. He immediately feels bad about it and goes to buy you a new one but he doesn't actually know what you had before so he just ends up getting you a coke zero.

Drowned Grey: When you return, the contents of your glass have been replaced by a strange, murky liquid. It carries a faint scent of blood. You ask her what it is and she vanishes with a mysterious smile.

Eye of the Needle: Smashes your drink on the ground and demands you fight her in the parking lot.

Cold: Takes your drink, then leaves it on a table and watches from a distance "just to see what happens."

Tower: Downs your drink while maintaining unbroken eye contact. Claims she thought you bought it for her. Obviously lying.

F Tier

Beast: Swallows your drink whole. She gets broken glass stuck in her throat and you have to take her to the emergency room.

Razor: Your glass slides out of her knife hands and shatters on the floor. Then she skewers you.

Witch: Throws your drink on the ground, laughs at you, then steps on some of the broken glass while trying to walk away. That's another emergency room visit.

Burned Grey: Before you can ask her anything, she sets the both of you and the entire bar on fire.

Opportunist: I don't think I need to explain why asking him is a bad idea. He gives your drink away to the first person who asks. Actually, they probably don't even need to ask.

Anyway have fun and be responsible this holiday season also feel free to add any additions/corrections you have, bye.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

can you do a part two to the imagine about conrad bringing his new gf to belly and jeremiah’s wedding??? i’m so curious to see what happens next lol

Request: Can we see more of conrad and his Stanford tutor girlfriend at cousins? Like him showing her around and they run into Nicole and everything. He's just so in love he doesn't notice anything or anyone but her. Maybe we see a family dinner

I had no intentions to, but after the crazy amount of demands for a part 2, I caved in…and here it is

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Conrad didn’t want to deal with everyone’s questions about you right when you got to Cousins, so you snuck out by the beach after dropping your bags in his room. He felt like he was fourteen again, sneaking out to catch the early waves. 

Neither of you had swim clothes on, so you just walked along the sandy shoreline while Conrad shared all sorts of little stories about Cousins.

‘’This is where you learned to surf?’’ you asked, gesturing toward the water.

Conrad hummed, his hand holding yours. ‘’And where I got stung by a jellyfish.’’ 

‘’A jellyfish?’’ you echoed, a touch of concern in your voice. That sounded pretty serious.

‘’Yeah. Steven kept telling Jeremiah that he had to pee on my leg so I wouldn’t need amputation and I did not want that,’’ he recounted with the same disgust as that day. ‘’Never do that, by the way. It can do more harm.’’ 

You nodded, though you doubted you would ever need that piece of information.

You walked and talked some more, until a playful glint of mischief flashed in Conrad’s eye and he turned to you, lifting you over his shoulder and taking you to the water. A squeak left your lips, caught off guard, and then you instinctively clung to his back, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he threatened to drop you in the water fully clothed. 

‘’If you drop me, I swear I'll—’’

Conrad cut you off with a mischievous grin, his laughter mixing with the soothing sounds of the ocean. ‘’You’ll what?’’ His voice was filled with playful challenge, and he took a few steps deeper into the water. 

*

When you came back to the summer house, Laurel whisked you away and Conrad went looking for Jeremiah. Unfortunately, someone found him first. 

‘’I don’t want her here.’’ Belly's voice hissed, her eyes glaring at the one she used to call her’s. ‘’This is my wedding, I get to decide who attends.’’ 

Conrad knew this wouldn't be easy for her — seeing him with another girl —, but he didn't expect Belly to behave like a child. She made a choice two years ago, she made a choice weeks ago when she decided to marry Jeremiah. 

‘’If you want her to leave, I’m leaving too,’’ he replied firmly but calmly. ‘’Good luck explaining to Jeremiah why his brother and best man is not at his wedding.’’

Belly sighed, accepting the lost battle. ‘’Fine. She can stay…’’ It didn’t enchant her, but there was no way she was risking Conrad leaving. Jeremiah was so happy when he got his RSVP response. ‘’Did you bring her here just to spite me?’’ she demanded, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt.

Conrad couldn't believe her accusation. He took a deep breath, struggling to maintain his composure. ‘’Are you being serious right now? You're getting married, and you still think I came here to get you back? It’s been two years. I moved on, Belly.’’

She met Conrad's gaze with a mixture of frustration and defiance. ‘’I did too. I’m getting married.’’ Belly smiled, the ring on her finger suddenly feeling heavy. 

‘’Then why are you so bothered that I’m dating someone else?’’  

Belly opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. 

‘’How can you do this to Jeremiah?!’’ 

Conrad was exasperated. Him and Jeremiah had tough moments, but he was his little brother and he promised their mom to take care of him. And that included making sure he’s not marrying someone who doesn’t love him the way he deserves. 

‘’He's inside, helping Taylor with the center-tables while his fiancé is having a jealousy fit over her ex boyfriend’s new girlfriend. You can’t have everything, Belly. You picked Jeremiah, you made that choice—’’

‘’And you left!’’ 

‘’Because you picked Jeremiah!’’ Conrad spit back, plunging back into old feelings. ‘’There was nothing left for me here.’’ 

‘’You didn’t show up on the 4th of July. Everyone was there, but you weren’t. How can you miss Susannah’s favorite holiday?’’

‘’How can you announce your engagement on her special day?’’ 

‘’It was Jeremiah’s idea—’’ 

‘’I don’t care! I don’t care whose idea it was,'' Conrad cut. ''Just like I don’t care that you’re jealous I came here with Y/N. You always said you don’t like the attention, but it’s bullshit. You crave attention, but you’re no longer my center of attention and that’s something you have to accept.’’

*

An undeniable tension hung in the air during dinner. Everyone was sitting outside, discussing around a light meal Laurel had prepared — with your offered help. The conversation was mainly around the soon-to-be-weds, but eventually circled back to you and Conrad.  

‘’So, Connie, how long have you been hiding her from us?’’ Laurel asked, a light teasing tone in her voice. 

The attention shifted to you and Conrad, who immediately felt uncomfortable. Unlike some people around the table, he didn’t like being the center of attention. ‘’I haven’t been hiding her,’’ he defended, shaking his head, trying to downplay the situation. 

‘’Then why did you miss the last Christmas?’’ Steven questioned, giving Conrad a knowing smile. 

Conrad glared at him, cursing his big mouth. ‘’Med school is hard, Steven. And Y/N is tutoring outside her classes, so she can’t just leave whenever she decides.’’

‘’What about the skiing pictures I saw? I doubt there’s skiing resorts in Palo Alto.’’ 

‘’It was a last minute thing,’’ you explained, helping Conrad against Steven. ‘’My parents rented a cabin and invited us for a few days. We would have loved to come to Boston for Christmas if we had time.’’

It wasn’t the full truth, but Conrad was grateful for your quick lie. You did go on a ski trip with your parents during winter break, but Conrad had no intention of coming to Boston for the holidays. He didn’t want to spend Christmas at home without his mom. 

‘’Well, I'm glad you both could make it for the wedding,’’ Jeremiah said, smiling warmly at you and Conrad, his gaze lingering on his older brother for a moment. ‘’It means a lot to me — to us. Right Bells?’’ He glanced at his fiancé, who was visibly unhappy about your presence.

She had made no effort to engage conversation with you — nor Conrad — during the whole dinner.  Even her friend Taylor had been whispering in your back with Belly. It was such an unclassy teenager behavior. You personally didn’t care.You weren’t there to make friends, you were Conrad’s guest. 

Belly forced a smile, stabbing at her food with her fork. ‘’Yeah.’’

—

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[sadnymi]

「 ✦ Fortnight. ✦ 」

[Mattheo riddle × reader] [TTPD Masterlist]

Summary: Y/N and Mattheo had a deep love for each other, but a misunderstanding led to a fight and a hasty decisions to lead them to different paths.

Warnings: Angst , Angst , and a lot of angst, strong language.

Words: 3.8k

Mattheo and I sat on the plush armchairs, a suffocating silence stretched between us. We hadn't spoken in hours, not since the argument at the Three Broomsticks.

"Just say it, Y/N," Mattheo finally broke the silence, his voice laced with a frustration that mirrored my own.

"Say what?" I challenged, my own voice tight with unshed tears.

"This," he gestured vaguely between us, "whatever this fight is about. Spit it out."

"It's not a fight, Mattheo," I snapped, the words sharper than I intended. "It's… it's your career choice."

He scoffed, a humorless sound that scraped against my raw nerves. "Here we go again. You think I'm going to be some Ministry drone pushing paper?"

"No! That's not what I—"

"Then what is it?" he interrupted, his voice rising. "What is it you want me to do, Y/N? Follow in your father's footsteps and chase Dark wizards for the rest of my life? Is that what makes a good man?"

My heart hammered against my ribs. Where was this coming from? "Mattheo, of course not! It's not about the Ministry or Auror training. It's about…" I faltered, the words catching in my throat.

"About what?" he pressed, his dark brown eyes boring into mine.

"It's about… about you not even considering it," I whispered, the sting of unshed tears burning my eyes.

He seemed to flinch at that, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, a bitter laugh escaped his lips. "So that's it? My dreams and aspirations don't matter because they don't fit your perfect Auror wife mold?"

Anger flared within me, hot and destructive. "Don't be ridiculous! It's not about some 'mold'! It's about… about having a future together. A future where we at least talk about these things, where you consider my feelings."

"Your feelings?" He repeated, a humorless smile twisting his features. "Do you have any idea how this makes me feel, Y/N? Like I'm not good enough for you, like my dreams are somehow lesser than yours!"

“No! That's not…" I began, reaching out to touch his arm, but he pulled away.

"Then what is it, Y/N?" he demanded, his voice tight with held-back emotion. "Do you want me to follow you around like a lost puppy while you explore the world? Is that your idea of a future together?"

"That's not what I meant… you know it's not!"

He took a deep breath, his eyes hardening with a newfound resolve. "Maybe not," he conceded, his voice devoid of warmth. "But maybe that's enough."

And with that, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving me standing alone, the weight of his unspoken words crushing me. Pride, that stubborn, suffocating thing, kept me rooted to the spot. I should have chased after him, explained myself, begged him to stay.

But the words wouldn't come. We were both too caught up in the sting of hurt, our love momentarily overshadowed by a misunderstanding neither of us had the courage to unravel.

That was the last time I saw him.

The weight of his final words hung heavy, each syllable a tiny hammer blow to my already fractured heart. We were supposed to spend the summer solidifying our plans, weaving our dreams together. Instead, we were left with a tangled mess of unspoken desires and a chasm of wounded pride.

Days bled into weeks, each sunrise a fresh reminder of his absence. I clung to the hope that he'd return, that this was just a lovers' spat, a temporary blip in our otherwise perfect story. I kept expecting to see his familiar silhouette at the window, to hear his knock on the worn wooden door.

Foolishly, I refused to believe that our fight, fueled by misunderstandings and misplaced anger, could be the end.

But the days stretched into agonizing silence. No owl arrived with a heartfelt apology, no apologetic voice graced the other end of the floo network. My phone, a muggle invention I rarely used, remained stubbornly quiet. The silence was deafening, a constant reminder of the gaping hole his absence left in my life.

Finally, the day arrived for my departure to France. Packing was a blur, each item I folded a silent goodbye to the life I'd envisioned with Mattheo. I clung to the faint hope that maybe, just maybe, he'd show up at the station, a last-minute attempt to mend what was broken. But the platform remained empty, save for the bustling crowd of eager travelers.

Did he leave Hogwarts? Where did he go? Desperate for answers, I reached out to his closest friend, Theo. His reply was short: "Ireland. Apprenticeship with some Potions Master."

With a heavy heart, I boarded the train, the rhythmic click-clack of the wheels echoing the beat of my shattered heart.

Five Years Later:

My fingers traced the spine of a well-worn copy of "Advanced Potion-Making." Lost in thought, I barely registered the figure brushing past me until a familiar voice sent a jolt through my system.

"Excuse me," the voice said, polite yet laced with a hint of amusement. "Do you happen to know where they keep their floo powder?"

I turned, my breath catching in my throat. Standing there, looking every bit the accomplished Potions Master, was Mattheo. Five years had passed and he looked even more handsome if that was even possible, but his eyes – those dark brown eyes that still held the power to disarm me – were unmistakable.

For a moment, we were frozen in time, a silent conversation unfolding in the space between us. A thousand unspoken words hung heavy in the air – apologies, explanations, the weight of years spent apart.

"Y/N" He finally spoke, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine. 

I managed a shaky nod, surprised at how easily the name slipped past my lips. "Mattheo."

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, a hint of the old mischief I remembered. "Auror Y/L/N, I presume? Quite the impressive career you've built for yourself."

"And you," I countered, forcing a lightness into my voice that I didn't quite feel. "Master Alchemist, they say.Congratulations."

He chuckled, a low, melodic sound that echoed in the quiet bookstore. "Exaggerations, but the work keeps me busy."

An awkward silence descended, heavy with unspoken questions. Did he know about France? About the scholarship? Did he ever regret leaving? The urge to blurt it all out, to bridge the chasm of the past five years, warred with the fear of rejection.

He cleared his throat, breaking the tension. "So, floo powder?" he gestured towards the back of the store.

"Right," I stammered, leading the way with a pounding heart. "Second shelf on the left."

As we walked, a million questions danced on my tongue, but before I could voice any of them, he spoke again.

"How are you doing?" he asked, his voice laced with a hesitant.

I lifted my chin, forcing a smile. "I'm doing great," I replied, meeting his gaze head-on. I lied, the words hollow in my mouth.

"I'm glad," he said, a flicker of something crossing his face that I couldn't place.

We reached the shelf and retrieved the floo powder. As I handed it to him, our fingers brushed. A jolt of electricity shot through me, a stark reminder of the connection that still simmered beneath the surface. Both of us pulled our hands away quickly, as if scalded.

"Did you meet someone?" he blurted out, his voice betraying his usual composure.

The question hung in the air, a painful echo of the unresolved past. "I've been focusing on work," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. And I'm trying to move on from you still, I wanted to say, but the words wouldn't come.

"What about you?" I managed, my voice shaky.

A shadow crossed his face. "It's complicated," he said, and my heart shattered. He met someone, and it's complicated with them, while I'm still here, nursing the wounds of a love lost.

I plastered a smile on my face, forcing back the tears threatening to spill over. "It was nice to see you again, Mattheo," I said, trying to sound genuine. And to my surprise, a flicker of pain mirrored mine in his eyes.

"Me too," he replied, his voice rough with emotion.

And with that, he tossed the floo powder into the fireplace, disappearing in a swirl of emerald flames. I stood there, alone amidst the lingering scent of his cologne and the ghosts of a love that might have been, my heart heavy with a renewed ache.

Two years later

The cheers echoed around me, a cacophony of joy and pride. My family and friends beamed, their faces flushed with excitement.

Tonight was the culmination of years of relentless work. I had secured the biggest Auror investment in Ministry history, a project that would revolutionize magical law enforcement. It was a dream come true, a shining testament to everything I'd poured my heart and soul into.

Yet, amidst the celebration, a hollowness resonated within me. The champagne flute felt heavy in my hand, the celebratory clinking of glasses a jarring counterpoint to the deafening silence within. 

Success, once the ultimate goal,tasted like ashes on my tongue.

I excused myself, slipping away to the secluded balcony overlooking the bustling city. The cool night air wrapped around me as I leaned against the railing, gazing at the luminous moon, a silent witness to my fractured happiness. Seven years. It had been seven years since that fateful night, the night a misunderstanding ripped our world apart.

Mattheo. The name echoed in the quiet corners of my mind, a bittersweet melody. I never wanted to break up with him.The memory of that fight remained a vivid scar, a constant reminder of the words left unsaid, the choices I hadn't had the courage to make. Deep down, I knew, with a certainty that transcended time, that I would have chosen him over everything – my career, my dreams.

Two years ago, that unexpected encounter at the bookstore had ripped open the scabbed wound. Seeing him again, alive and breathing, reignited a flicker of hope. But the news of someone else in his life, the complicated entanglement,extinguished it as quickly.

A sob escaped my lips, a tear tracing a warm path down my cheek. The celebratory chatter from inside seemed miles away, a muted echo in a world devoid of sound. The clinking glass in my hand remained untouched, a forgotten symbol of a victory that felt hollow.

Tears streamed down my face, blurring the city lights below. I wasn't crying for the career I built, nor for the recognition I finally received. I was crying for the love lost, for the unspoken words, for the future we could have had. I was crying for the silence that resonated louder than any cheer, a silence filled with the weight of "what ifs" and the haunting melody of a love song forever unfinished.

The move-on drugs they all are temporary.

A loud banging startled me awake. I sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, and peered out the window. A moving truck stood parked in the driveway next door, boxes stacked precariously in its open back. A knot of apprehension tightened in my stomach. A new neighbor.

The next day, the evidence of their arrival was clear – vibrant flower pots adorned the previously bare porch. A woman knelt before them, her hands gently adjusting the soil. As I caught her eye, she flashed a warm smile. I returned it, a small flicker of hope igniting within me for a friendly connection.

Before leaving for work the following morning, I saw her outside again.

"Hi there, I'm Gianna," she said, extending a hand. "We just moved in, my husband and I."

I shook her hand, forcing a smile. "Y/N," I replied. "I live right next door. If you need anything at all, please don't hesitate to ask."

"That's so kind of you, thanks!" she chirped.

Suddenly, a voice boomed from inside the house. My smile vanished. That voice, deep and familiar, sent a jolt of electricity through me.

"Coming, my love!" Gianna called back, her sweetness radiating even over the distance. "Can you give me a second outside, please?"

A figure emerged from the house, his form momentarily obscured by the doorway. Then, he stepped into the sunlight, and the world seemed to tilt on its axis. It was Mattheo.

Everything froze. Time seemed to slow to a crawl, the chirping of birds the only sound breaking the deafening silence. My breath hitched in my throat, caught somewhere between shock and disbelief.

"Mrs. Y/L/N," he finally managed, his voice tight.Then, he glanced towards Gianna, a subtle shift in his expression.

I tried to maintain a veneer of normalcy, but my voice betrayed me. "Mr. Riddle," I replied, the title a barbed wire fence between us.

"We used to go to Hogwarts together," I said, forcing a lightness that felt utterly false. My insides were a churning mess of emotions.

"She's being humble, Mrs. Y/L/N," Mattheo said, his next words a dagger through my heart. "She secured the biggest Auror investment in Ministry history. Quite impressive."

Those words, once a symbol of pride, now hung heavy in the air, a cruel reminder of the chasm that separated us. This was his life now, married, settled. While I, despite my achievements, was still left with the lingering ache of a love lost.

Gianna, blissfully unaware, beamed. "Oh my goodness, that's absolutely fantastic!" Her smile was so genuine, her eyes so kind, that a wave of self-loathing washed over me. Here was a woman radiating warmth and sunshine, and all I felt was a twisted mix of envy and despair.

"Thank you," I croaked, the word scraping against my throat. "I need to get going. It was... lovely to meet you." I forced a smile to her and, managed a small nod towards Mattheo

My legs turned to lead as I walked away, every step a struggle. , refusing to break eye contact for even a fleeting second. The weight of unspoken words hung heavy between us, a poignant reminder of the life we could have had.

As I walked away, my legs felt like lead. I didn't dare look back, afraid of what I might see. Reaching my car, I slumped behind the wheel, tears blurring my vision. The sobs came then, a torrent of grief and jealousy that threatened to drown me.

He was married. To a woman who was everything I wasn't – warm, cheerful, seemingly perfect. My successful career, once a source of immense pride, felt like a hollow trophy in the face of this devastating realization.

Once safely inside my car, parked far away from the house, the dam broke. Tears streamed down my face, hot and relentless. Sobs wracked my body as the full weight of the situation slammed into me. He was married. To an angel, by all appearances. Sweet, kind Gianna, whose happiness felt like a knife twisting in my gut.

The joy of my achievements, once a beacon in the darkness, seemed to dim. All I could see was the life I might have had, the love that slipped through my fingers, all because of a misunderstanding and a misplaced sense of pride.

Daniel had been asking me out for years. A kind, successful Ministry scientist, he was everything one could want on paper. Yet, his invitations always landed on deaf ears. My heart, still clinging to the shattered remnants of a love lost to a misunderstanding, had no room for new beginnings.

He'd been asking me out for years, and in the numb aftermath of seeing Mattheo with his wife, Gianna, I found myself saying yes.

Yes to a date, yes to another date, yes to sleepovers, yes to becoming his girlfriend. Then, in a blur of emotional chaos, yes to becoming his wife. It happened fast, a desperate attempt to fill the gaping hole in my heart.

The white dress felt heavy, suffocating. The lace trimmings brushed against my skin like a constant reminder of the life I wasn't living. Daniel, handsome and successful, stood beside me, beaming with pride. Yet, as the priest declared us husband and wife, I closed my eyes, and the image that filled my mind wasn't his.

The kiss felt like a performance. My lips brushed against Daniel's, a hollow touch that mirrored the emptiness within me. Applause erupted around us, a joyous cacophony that somehow felt distant, muted. My smile was practiced, a mask for the turmoil raging inside.

As congratulations poured in, I felt a tear roll down my cheek, a solitary drop staining the pristine white of my wedding dress. It wasn't a tear of joy, but a tear of grief, a tear for a love lost, a tear for a life that could have been.

Months bled into one another, each day a monotonous echo of the last. Living with Daniel was like existing in a carefully curated museum exhibit – everything pristine, perfectly placed, yet utterly devoid of life. Our interactions had become a practiced dance – polite smiles, small talk about work, and a hollow routine that felt more like obligation than affection.

Even sex with Daniel felt mundane. Today, as he thrust into me, I felt nothing but a desire for it to end so I could finally sleep. His heavy breaths and quick finish only added to the monotony. With one final thrust, he came and collapsed on top of me. I didn't bother faking an orgasm; there was no point. I simply didn't care anymore.

"Do you want me to help you with—" he started to say, but I cut him off.

"No, I'm going to shower," I replied, getting off the bed.

"I promise next time I'll make sure you cum first," he offered.

"Sure, whatever," I responded dismissively.

I couldn't feel anything, not even the pain. Numbness consumed me, and I moved through life like a robot. So, when I received a message about my husband cheating, it didn't even register.

I went to the location mentioned in the message, using my wand to open the door. Inside, I found Daniel with Sandra, one of our colleagues. They were oblivious to my presence, lost in a passionate moment.

He was everything he wasn't with me. His hand caressed her cheek with a tenderness I hadn't seen before. Words spilled from his lips, sweet nothings that he must have forgotten existed in our vocabulary. "I love you, Sandra," he murmured,his voice husky with passion. "It's always been you."

And he made her fucking cum .

As they finished, I stood in the doorway with my arms crossed. Sandra gasped, and Daniel tumbled off the bed when they noticed me. Without giving him a chance to speak, I cut through the tension. "I need a divorce," I said simply, then turned and walked away.

I don't know how long I'd been wandering, aimlessly traversing the deserted park, the night sky a tapestry of uncaring stars. My legs finally gave out, and I sank onto a damp bench, the chill seeping into my bones unnoticed. Tears had become a constant companion, blurring the already indistinct world.

Then, a rustle beside me. I looked up, startled, to see Mattheo perched on the opposite end of the bench. Silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken emotions. Finally, the dam broke, and the words tumbled out, a torrent of raw pain and frustration.

"He was cheating on me," I confessed, my voice hoarse. "I felt nothing for him, yet I married him anyway. How foolish can one person be?" The bitterness in my voice surprised even me. "I want to strangle him," I added, surprising myself with the dark intensity. "Why would he even marry me if he was in love with her?"

"Y/N," Mattheo said, his voice gentle, "It's not that simple. Sometimes we make choices based on what we think is right, what seems the safest path. We try to play it safe, and sometimes, we live to regret those decisions."

"But it has to stop we need to control it so what Daniel did is unforgivable," he continued, his gaze holding mine. "We've caused enough hurt. We can't keep dragging innocent people into our mess."

I nodded, wiping at the tears that streamed down my face. This wasn't about Daniel anymore. It was about the truth that hung heavy between us, the words I'd buried for years.

"I was going to choose you, Mattheo," I whispered, my voice cracking. "If you had just listened, if you hadn't…” My voice hitched, the pain raw and exposed. "If you hadn't disappeared, I would have told you that France, that any achievement wouldn't have mattered without you."

For the first time in years, I felt a sense of catharsis, a release from the burden I'd carried for so long.

"I know," Mattheo said, sadness etching lines on his face. "That's why I didn't show up. Your dream was so important, and I couldn't take that away from you."

A sob escaped my lips, not for Daniel, but for the life we could have had, the love we'd let slip through our fingers.

"But it wasn't as important as you," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper.

The longing in his eyes mirrored my own, a silent acknowledgment of the love that still burned beneath the ashes of time. Yet, a shadow crossed his face, a stark reminder of the reality that lay beyond this stolen moment.

"I'm so sorry," he said, his voice thick with regret.

"Me too," I replied, the words a bittersweet release.

"I love you, Mattheo. And it’s running my life. I'm leaving after my divorce is finalized. And this time, I'm not coming back."

A flicker of surprise crossed his face, followed by a deep sadness.

"It's selfish to say," he admitted, his voice barely audible, "but you're the love of my life and that will never change,Y/N."

We sat in silence, tears falling freely now, a shared grief for what could have been and the bittersweet acceptance of the present.

Looking at my watch, I realized it was late. "You should go," I said, my voice hoarse. "Don't make her worry."

He nodded slowly, his eyes lingering on mine. "At least," he said, his voice husky, "at least we got to say goodbye properly this time."

"Yes," I croaked, the words a bittersweet echo hanging in the air. "We did."

As he stood up, I took one last look at him, the image forever etched into my memory. Then, with a heavy heart, I watched him disappear back into the darkness, leaving me alone with the ghosts of our past. This wasn't a happy ending, but it was a closure, a bittersweet farewell to a love story that didn’t get the chance to be.

Maybe, in another life, under different circumstances, that wall wouldn't have existed. 

Maybe, in another life, our dreams wouldn't have clashed, and our paths would have intertwined. But this wasn't that life. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

[saramurad1]

‎‏Hello, my name is sara, and we are living in an extremely difficult reality. My husband recently lost his job due to the dire circumstances in Gaza, and we are now facing even greater challenges in securing our daily bread. In these tough times, the weight of responsibility falls entirely on me. I care for my 85-year-old mother-in-law, who requires continuous care due to her declining health and old age. In addition, I take care of my dear brother-in-law, who is disabled. Despite his condition, he is an integral part of our family, and we do everything we can to ensure his comfort and happiness.

‎‏We are currently living in Gaza, where the situation is dire and the war continues to escalate, making our suffering worse and making it harder to obtain even the most basic necessities. After the events of October 7th, we were forced to flee from northern Gaza to the south, walking on foot despite my mother-in-law’s inability to walk long distances. I had to support her by holding her arm throughout the journey, while my brother-in-law, who is in a wheelchair, also needed assistance.

‎‏We witnessed death all around us—walking over bodies, hearing gunfire above our heads, and living in constant fear of what might happen next. We are now living in a nylon tent under the scorching sun in the summer and the freezing cold in the winter. My mother-in-law cannot stay in the tent because of sores on her body; she needs a moderate environment, but we cannot afford to rent a house due to the high prices.

‎‏Every day, I face the enormous challenge of providing for my family, whether it’s caring for my mother-in-law, ensuring my brother-in-law’s well-being, or managing our daily survival. The financial strain has become overwhelming. The economic challenges we face grow more severe with each passing day, making it increasingly difficult to provide even the most basic needs, such as food, healthcare, and medical treatment for my mother-in-law and brother-in-law.

‎‏Every morning, my struggle with laundry begins. Not because I can’t bear it, but because the essentials have become an unbearable burden. The prices of detergents have risen to an unreasonable level, and even the simplest of them has become a distant dream. I search for alternative solutions, for natural materials that might ease the weight of buying, but even these options require more time and effort.

‎‏As for cooking, every time I open the oven, I feel something uncomfortable creeping into my chest. I can’t ignore the smell of pollution that seeps into our food, taking more from our health than it gives in meals. It’s not just an old oven—it’s a daily battle with appliances that ruin everything good, including the health of those around me.

‎‏The worst part is my mother-in-law. I’ve tried many times to explain to her, but the pain grows when I see exhaustion in her eyes, as if I’m causing her harm. But I have no choice. We are all in this kitchen, in a daily struggle, and amidst this battle, I try to be a bridge between poverty and hope, between difficult circumstances and the will to live.

[mmogurl]

Daddy Issues Part 1: Savior

18+ | 1.7k | Homelander X Female Reader | protective homelander, reader's back story is a little dark, reader might be a bit of a nympho, mentions of suicide, rape, assault, alcoholism, emotional child abuse. My Own Writing Prompt: What if Homelander became your Daddy and was really good at it? This is my first attempt at writing for a 'Reader' character! I usually always write it as an OC, so this should be a fun challenge. There will be more, but I'm not sure how many yet - maybe 3 parts. I wanted to keep these side ideas shorter and easier to pick up and put down. Part 1: Savior | Part 2: Baseline | Part 3: Spoiled | Part 4: Comfort

You’ve not had the best childhood. You were raised by an alcoholic, neglectful mother who cared more about getting laid by strange men that she met at the bar than you. This was paired with a father who would literally do anything but spend time with you, even when you flew fifteen hundred miles via airplane and stayed for the whole summer. Love, affection, attention, validation. These are all things that have been acutely missing from your life and so it should come as no surprise that you might be tempted towards the more hedonistic side of things.

After all, there is no better way to pretend that someone loves you, then when they’re fucking you.

Your bedroom has been a revolving door of men, much like your mothers had been when she was still alive. But, she’s left you alone in this world, long since dead from cirrhosis of the liver, and you’d really rather not have anything to do with your piece of shit father. With no siblings or family to call your own and nobody left to really give a shit, your life feels kind of empty. Fucking is the one thing that makes you feel alive, at least until it’s over and all of the feelings of guilt and shame come flooding back in.

That’s alright though. That’s what the beer is for. When too many voices start to nag you about your choice of lifestyle, you just drown it out. And no, you don’t think of yourself as an alcoholic like your mother. You are just self medicating, and find this over the counter prescription much more effective than the ones your psychiatrist had given you. You’d rather feel something than nothing after all. Maybe this makes you a hypocrite, but you really don’t care.

Perhaps it is this very state of inebriation that has led to your current situation though. You really should start taking accountability for the way your life has turned out and stop playing the victim. Sadly, there may not be enough time to make any serious life changes because things are looking pretty grim. A chance encounter with a good looking man named Mark that you’d met, ironically at the bar, has turned into a complete catastrophe, and even you with your insight and feisty spirit, especially when drunk, cannot see a way out of it.

Mark said he was parked just down the road, and there were so many lights and people walking down the main throughway that you really hadn’t considered you might even be in danger. That was until you’d both walked a ways down the alley, past the point of lights and still there was no car. Who the fuck drives a car in New York City you found yourself thinking, but by then it was too late. By then, Mark’s lackeys had jumped out from hiding, dragging you down an intersecting alley and against the wall of some abandoned building.

You are pressed painfully against the cold and dirty brick wall with two men holding you in place, one on either side of you. One heavier set man has a knife against your throat while the other laughs in a way that makes your skin crawl. Mark stands before you still looking like the handsome bait that he was and you can’t help but wonder what they might possibly want with you. You are too old at twenty eight to be thrown into some kind of grooming gang or human trafficking and you have nobody for them to extort funds from for a ransom.

Maybe they are just interested in raping and killing you and this is just more shitty luck that life has thrown your way. It is always so easy to play the victim, even when you are still partially responsible for how the cards fall in the wake of your bad decisions.

You try to jerk your arms free, thinking it better to be cut than to be raped by these scraps of human excrement. You had already intended to fuck Mark or you wouldn’t have gone home with him, but this show of depravity has most definitely changed your mind.

You feel the heat of dripping blood from your neck as the bigger guy with the knife actually nicks your skin. Mark already has his paws on you, a look of disgusting lewdness on his face as though he’s so pleased with himself for cornering you. His hand rounds your breast and the feeling of him touching you like this elicits the most gut wrenching scream from the very depths of your chest cavity.

Then the raw, searing pain erupts across your face. Always the consummate gentleman, Mark has struck you and he didn’t pull any punches. You can’t help but hear the rimshot play in your head and you wonder how it is that even as you’re about to die, your struck with the plaguing of your morose sense of humor. You supposed in the end, it was just a way to make light of how messed up things were. And right now, they were definitely about as bad as they had ever been.

As Mark once more closes in on you, the friend not holding the knife joining in at groping you as well, you attempt to scream again. Another throbbing fist hits you so hard in the cheekbone that it literally takes away all the fight you have. You’ve never been hit so hard before in your entire life and you feel a wave of defeat roll over you like the most hated white flag flapping in the wind.

You close your eyes for a moment, trying to zone out the disgusting mitts clawing at you. For a moment you consider shoving your neck into the knife to avoid letting them take this any further. But, graciously, your thoughts of escape through suicide are averted when the ground shakes as though an asteroid had just been ejected from space and landed right beside you.

There is another flash of pain as the stout man with the knife slips and cuts you once more. Free from their grip for a moment in light of the confusion, you feel your neck and are relieved to find that the cut is shallow and not gushing blood. You slowly look up and find that all the men are turned away from you, looking at something incredulously.

Your eyes grow wide when you realize they are staring at the fucking Homelander. Your jaw drops in shock as he hurls forward, grabbing the neck of the man with the knife and popping it like a grape. Blood splatters everywhere as your blond savior’s eyes flare up with bright orange light, straight into Mark’s crotch creating a massive hole that you can actually see through. You almost laugh at the thought of his likely raging hard on getting evaporated to charred bits and nothingness. Serves him right you think as his body hits the pavement with a fleshy thud.

The last man attempts to flee and you follow the outline of his backside as he runs. Homelander’s eyes glow once more and you watch as the plasma hot lasers cut across the distance, starting at the assailant’s groin and carving all the way through his head, leaving him cleaved in two even pieces.

You barely have time to think about it before Homelander’s gaze returns to you, a look of concern in his eyes as he crowds you against the wall. “Fuck!” he shouts and you startle as he starts wiping the gore and blood away from your face, your neck. “Did I hit you?”

“N-no,” you manage to squeak out. “I think it’s the fat guy’s blood.” You say this with a little more humor than you probably should, not being able to resist the idea of insulting your attacker.

Homelander stops his fussing and regards you with eyes that are so much bluer in person than they appeared on television. He raises up one hand, finger pointed at you as though you’d just fooled him, in quite a clever way. The grin on his face almost makes you forget that you’d just had strangers threatening your life and your right to choose who you spread your legs for.

“You’re funny,” he finally said, looking you over, his expression growing more grave, almost irate. “Especially for someone who just narrowly avoided getting raped and thrown in the Hudson fucking Bay.”

You can’t help but wonder why he cares. You always thought he was just a pretend super hero for the cameras, for the mega corporation known as Vought to make big bucks. It all seemed staged and as far as you knew it was. Yet, here he was, America’s patriotic golden boy, making a very unscheduled save.

“What the fuck are you doing anyway!?” he asked cynically, interrupting your thoughts. “Do you have a death wish or something? You like the idea of serving yourself up to any guy who shows you a little bit of attention?”

His line of questioning was strangely personal, as though he knew more about you than he was letting on. Even though he had just come to your rescue, exactly when you had needed him most, you can’t help but feel a little indignant.

“It’s not like I wanted this,” you retort with a furl in your brow.

“You have to know you’re beautiful,” he sputters out, eyes darting around with discomfort at the topic, barely containing his frustration. “You deserve better than this.”

“Well, God has not seen fit to bestow me with anyone better yet. I’m still waiting,” she quipped back, but she could feel her shoulders getting weak and shaky as the shock of her encounter started to weigh on her.

“Fuck God,” Homelander barked back and his countenance relaxed significantly as his anger turned to worry at the sight of your trembling body. “You’re coming with me,” he stated more than asked.

Before you knew it, his arms were scooping you up, holding you securely against his chest as he shot into the night air. Despite the sound of rushing current in your ears and the tendrils of hair whipping at your cheeks, you felt safe and comfortable. You closed your eyes and waited for the ride to be over, but little did you know that it had just begun. Continue to Part 2

[emjayewrites]

The Year I Turned 25 • JK + AT (3/10)

SYNOPSIS: Grammy-winning R&B artist Y/N Y/LN, 25, is closing out the North American leg of her tour, riding high on the success of her sophomore album "The Year I Turned 24" - a raw, emotional project born from her public breakup with an NFL player. As she prepares for six weeks in Europe before the international leg of her tour, she's determined to have her own "hot girl summer," yet she’s unaware that she's about to get entangled with not one but two professional footballers - Jules Koundé and Aurélien Tchouaméni - sparking new public interest in her love life and forcing her to confront her fears about dating athletes again.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

PAIRINGS: Jules Koundé x Y/N Y/LN (fc: Ayra Starr) x Aurélien Tchouaméni

WARNINGS: cursing, football b.s., not so glamorous life of a celebrity, mentions of mental illness/misogyny/slut shaming/cheating, drug use (marijuana), drinking, rotational dating, eventual smut, paragon partners/polyamory — 18+ only

TAGLIST: @irishmanwhore, @sucredreamer, @judesvirtual, @saturnville, @peyiswriting, @greedyjudge2, @pepfectionary, @alika-4466, @julescpu, @lettersofgold, @hopefulromantic1, @a-moment-captured, @serpenttines-library, @f1-football-fiend, @purplelewlew, @enretrogue, @judesprxncess, @yeea-nah @127hydrangeas, @sunfairyy, @pinkcatcus, @muglermami, @bbgkoo, @greyishbach @sinflowersugar @cranberryjulce

CHAPTER 3: Another One, Thank You!

Hamburg greeted YN with unexpected sunshine and a hotel room with a view of the harbor. She'd barely finished unpacking when her phone buzzed:

Aurélien 🌹 Settled in? I'm taking you somewhere nice tonight

YN Define 'nice' 🤔

Aurélien You'll see. Wear something that shows off what you want me to touch later 😏

YN's mouth went dry. The man did not believe in subtle flirting.

YN And if I want you to touch everything?

Aurélien Then why did you wanna get dinner? We could've just chilled in my room

"Touché," she muttered.

Her phone buzzed again, this time the group chat:

Jules 🇫🇷 You good YN?

Aurélien 🌹 Taking YN to Heimat tonight

Jules 🇫🇷 Good choice. Those views 👌🏾 Treat her well but not too well, I need her tomorrow 😌

YN I'm right here! 🙄

Aurélien 🌹 We know 😈

These men are going to be the death of me. She was about to respond when an Instagram notification caught her eye:

deuxmoi: SPOTTED: Grammy winner YN_YLN with French football star Jules Koundé at froyo spot in Düsseldorf! A source says they looked "very cozy" 👀 [Fan photo attached]

view all comments...

popculture_daily: The way he's looking at her though! 🔥 ynglobaldom: MY QUEEN WINNING chartdata: Her power>>> gossipgirl2024: Wait didn't you say you saw her with TWO French players? Drop the tea sis

Shit. I have to keep this lowkey.

For what? her intrusive thoughts challenged. Men get seen with different women all the time. Did Damari hide his fun?

That makes you no better than him! her rational side countered. Keep it under wraps.

She had to agree — the potential scandal of being seen with both of them...

Though part of her wanted to say fuck it. Why should she hide?

"Because being famous is annoying sometimes," she muttered, unpacking her suitcase and arranging her outfits in the closet. She plugged in her essential oil diffuser — lavender to calm her nerves — and lined up her skincare on the marble bathroom counter.

The challenge: what to wear for dinner with Aurélien? Something that said "I'm sexy but not desperate for dick" even though she was, in fact, kind of desperate for his. After twenty minutes of trying on different options, she settled on a black silk slip dress that hit mid-thigh – classy but with enough potential to make his eyes darken.

A quick shower to freshen up, then she wrapped herself in the hotel's fluffy robe and started her getting-ready playlist. Her favorite songs filled the room as she did her makeup, singing along while blending her eyeshadow:

"I might kill my ex, not the best idea… His new girlfriend's next, how'd I get here?"

She switched to Beyoncé as she curled her hair: "I'm warning who I bring to this dinner…"

How appropriate, she thought, pinning half her curls up to show off her neck.

By 8PM, she was applying a final coat of lipgloss when a knock echoed through the suite. Her heart, and pussy, jumped.

She opened the door to find Aurélien looking edible in a fitted black button-down and slacks. His eyes did that slow drag over her body that made her feel like prey - in the best way.

"Beautiful," he said, his signature smirk appearing. "Ready?"

"Let me grab my bag."

His hand found the small of her back as they walked to the elevator - always touching, always claiming space.

Heimat had good lighting and harbor views, and their corner table was intimate without trying too hard. Aurélien pulled out her chair, then sat close enough that his knee pressed against hers.

"So," he reached for the wine list, "besides being an incredible singer and looking gorgeous, what else should I know about YN?"

"You tell me what you want to know."

"Everything." No hesitation. His directness made her flush.

Over wine and appetizers, she learned he was obsessed with basketball ("Knicks till I die, but Lakers when they're good"), played the piano, and had strong opinions about American culture.

His hand had migrated to her thigh, but his touch wasn't purely sexual – he squeezed gently when she talked about her music, traced patterns when she mentioned her mom, and pulled back when she tensed discussing her past.

"That's why the Browns are gonna have a trash season," he said when Damari came up.

"You follow American football?"

"Enough to know your ex is gonna be riding the bench," Aurélien said simply. "But his loss is my gain."

"Our gain," she corrected.

"Ah yes, can't forget Jules." He grinned.

The conversation flowed easily - from childhood dreams to current goals, favorite books to worst dates. He was surprisingly funny, dropping deadpan jokes that had her snorting into her wine.

"Did you know," he said seriously, "that Jules sleepwalks?"

"No way."

"Once found him trying to make a sandwich in his sleep. Completely naked."

By dessert, she'd learned more about him than she expected - how his eyes crinkled when he really smiled, how he gestured with his hands when excited about a topic, how his thumb would stroke her skin absently while he listened.

"Want to take a walk?" he suggested after paying. "The harbor's pretty at night."

"You just want to get handsy."

"Always." That smirk again. "But I also want to explore with you."

She raised an eyebrow. "Explore what exactly?"

His hand found her lower back again. "Whatever you want, ma belle."

The harbor lights danced on the water as they walked, Aurélien's hand never leaving her waist. He stopped at a quieter spot, turning her to face him.

"Been wanting to do this properly," he murmured, cradling her face. His kiss was different from the hungry ones he usually gave - slow, deliberate, commanding in its patience. He took his time exploring her mouth until her knees went weak.

When he pulled back, she couldn't help the foolish grin spreading across her face.

"Look at that smile," he teased, thumb brushing her bottom lip. "Cute."

"Shut up," she rolled her eyes, still grinning.

"Would it be crazy if I asked you to spend the night?"

Her first instinct was yes, but then memories of Jules from last night flooded back. Did this make her… a whore? Going from one man's dick to potentially another's?

Girl, who cares? her intrusive thoughts chimed in. It's YOUR hot girl summer.

"I should be honest," she started. "Jules and I…"

"I know," he said softly. "Saw you both in the elevator, remember? Look, this is a lot - physically, emotionally. We go at your pace."

She nodded slowly. "Then… yes. I'd like to stay."

They swung by her hotel for essentials - bonnet, skincare, tomorrow's clothes (and maybe some sexy underwear, just in case).

The Westin Elbphilharmonie towered over the other side of the harbor, all glass and waves meant to mirror the water below. Aurélien's suite was minimalist luxury - cream furnishings, huge windows, and a balcony that made the city look like scattered stars.

"Make yourself at home," he said, taking her overnight bag.

Her heart raced. No turning back now.

Aurélien set her overnight bag on the chaise while YN slipped off her sandals, placing her purse on the bedside table.

"Ever seen Pineapple Express?" he asked, scrolling through the hotel's movie selection.

"Obviously. I'm not uncultured."

His laugh echoed off the suite's walls. "Good. Because I quote this movie way too much."

He turned the movie on and then made his way to the kitchenette - his gait full of unwavering swagger - to place a bag of popcorn in the microwave.

They settled into comfortable silence on the bed, sharing buttery popcorn while Seth Rogen descended into drug dealer chaos. Around the time James Franco started saying "Thug Life," YN decided to start her nighttime routine.

Opening her overnight bag, she grabbed her essentials: makeup wipes, CeraVe cleanser, toner, essence, vitamin C serum, moisturizer, and face oil. But as she started removing her makeup in the bathroom, the anxiety hit like a wave.

Whore. Slut. Can't even wait a day between men.

Her hands trembled as she tried to remove her lashes. The DeuxMoi post kept flashing in her mind - what if people found out about both of them? She wasn't really a whore, was she? Just... exploring. Finding herself. Why did that make her bad?

"YN?" Aurélien's soft knock startled her. "You good? Been in there a while."

"Yes," she squeaked, but her reflection showed panic in her eyes. She gripped the counter, trying to count breaths like her therapist taught her.

The door opened. Aurélien took one look at her and his whole demeanor shifted - the cocky swagger replaced by gentle concern.

"Panic attack?" He stepped closer, fingers finding her pulse point. His protector mode was sweet, though she wished she wasn't seeing it like this.

No shit, she thought, but couldn't speak.

Without a word, he reached for a shower cap, carefully removing each bobby pin from her curls. "Sit," he guided her to the toilet seat.

The shower started running, steam slowly filling the room. He disappeared, returning with her bonnet.

First the shower cap, then the satin bonnet, his movements impossibly gentle for such large hands as he placed them on her head, ensuring each tendril of hair was securely covered.

His eyes met hers. "Can I take off your clothes?" She gave him a look. "It's for the shower," he explained. "Warm showers will help."

She nodded, letting him care for her in this unexpected way.

Aurélien's hands reached for the zipper of her dress. His usual intensity was replaced by something softer - each movement careful, protective.

"Arms up," he murmured, and she complied, letting him pull the silk over her head. Instead of his usual hungry gaze, his eyes held only concern.

This man who looks like he could break hearts for sport, her rational thoughts marveled, is treating me like I'm made of glass.

He unhooked her bra with practiced ease, but there was nothing sexual in the way he helped her step out of her underwear. His touch remained clinical, respectful.

"Temperature good?" he asked, guiding her toward the steam.

She nodded, watching as he rolled up his sleeves to test the water himself. This was a different Aurélien from the one who smirked and made suggestive comments, who exuded raw sexuality. This was the big brother who protected his siblings, the friend who looked out for Jules.

"You don't have to stay," she managed.

"I know." He helped her into the shower. "But I want to."

Maybe, her rational thoughts whispered, we've underestimated him. Maybe there's more here than just physical attraction.

The warm water began to calm her racing heart, and with it came a new understanding: Aurélien Tchouaméni was full of surprises.

"Can I join you?" he asked softly.

She bit her bottom lip, nodding. Her eyes couldn't help but follow as he undressed, appreciating how the muscles in his chest flexed, how his dark skin seemed to glow in the bathroom's soft light, and how gorgeous his penis and testicles were when his boxers fell to the floor. But where normally he'd smirk at her obvious appreciation, now he remained focused on her well-being.

He stepped into the shower, reaching for the hotel's body wash. The scent of lavender filled the steam as he worked the soap between his palms, then started with her shoulders. His strong fingers found knots she didn't even know she had, drawing a contented sigh from her lips.

Working down her arms, then her hips, his touch remained therapeutic rather than teasing. He squatted to massage her thighs and calves, his hands firm but gentle on her tired muscles.

"Better?" he asked, looking up at her through wet lashes.

The anxiety was melting away under his careful attention, replaced by something warmer, deeper than just attraction.

Oh, she thought. This could be dangerous in a whole different way.

YN woke to Aurélien's soft snores in her ear, his arm heavy around her waist. His t-shirt swallowed her whole, smelling like his cologne. Last night after the shower, she'd barely managed to pull it on before passing out, emotionally drained.

At least I didn't drool, she thought, becoming very aware of his morning wood pressing against her ass. She stretched - trying to reach her phone on the nightstand.

His arm tightened, grinding closer. "Ne bouge pas, ma belle," (Don't move, beautiful) he muttered, voice impossibly deeper and raspier in the morning. His stubble scratched her cheek as he nuzzled closer.

Even sleeping he's cute as fuck, both her thoughts agreed.

She rolled her eyes despite smiling. Being little spoon was nice, but she needed her phone. One more stretch and - success!

7:30 AM. Notifications lit up her screen:

Mama 💕 Baby girl your crystals told me you had anxiety last night. Did you use that lavender oil I packed? Mercury isn't even in retrograde so this is weird. Light some sage when you can 🌟✨ Also use protection! 😘

Big Kyle You good? Haven't heard from you. These European men treating you right or do I need to catch a flight? 🤨 Send me your location just in case. Love you kid

LewLew Bean Hope Hamburg's treating you well. Saw that DeuxMoi post, don't stress about it. People always talk, let them. Roscoe says hi! [photo of his dog attached]

She smiled at their different approaches - her mom's spiritual advice, Big Kyle's protectiveness, and Lewis just being... Lewis.

Last night's panic attack embarrassed her; breaking down in front of Aurélien wasn't exactly hot girl summer behavior. But seeing his gentler side, how naturally he switched from sexy to protective…

His snoring hitched, arm pulling her closer. "Dors, bébé." (Sleep, baby)

Man has a point, she thought, putting it back on the charger.

YN snuggled deeper into Aurélien's embrace, letting his snores lull her into that peaceful space between sleep and wakefulness. It reminded her of how Damari used to—

No.

No more thoughts about that untalented bench warmer. Her summer was for better things now. Like the way Aurélien's arm tightened around her whenever she moved. Or how Jules' kisses made her dizzy. Or whatever other adventures Europe had in store.

Four weeks left. The thought nagged at her. Maybe she should make the most of it - take a little detour before the semi-finals? Visit Lewis early, see what Silverstone was about? Or maybe hit up another city first, then see Lewis?

What about our French boys? her intrusive thoughts demanded. Can't just leave them hanging!

But she wouldn't be leaving, not really. Just… expanding her horizons. She'd be back for the semis, back to see which of them could make her toes curl faster. Besides, wasn't that the whole point of hot girl summer? Freedom to do whatever - and whoever - she wanted?

I'll tell them later, she decided. After I figure out where I want to go.

Aurélien mumbled something in French against her neck, pulling her closer.

But right now, she thought, closing her eyes, right now I'm exactly where I want to be.

______________________________________________

The Hamburg Arena hummed with pre-match energy as YN made her way through the VIP corridors. She spotted Aurélien talking to Cama, catching his wink when she waved.

Then she saw Jules - or rather, felt him before she saw him. He rounded the corner in his pre-match warmup gear, dreads pulled back, all focused energy until his eyes landed on her. That intense game face melted into a smile that made her legs wobble.

"There's my girl," he said, closing the distance between them. His hand found her waist immediately, guiding her toward a private alcove. There was something different about match-day Jules — a coiled energy that made him seem even more dangerous than usual.

"Are you doing okay?" His eyebrows creased with worry. "Auré told me you had an anxiety attack last night."

"Wow, you guys run your mouth too much," she snapped without thinking.

Jules let out a dark chuckle that made her stomach flip. "What part of 'our girl' don't you realize, YN? Of course, we're gonna talk about things regarding your well-being. Now, answer the question: are you good now?" His hands rubbed up and down her arms. YN nodded. "Open that pretty mouth of yours and use your words," Jules said, voice dropping into an authoritative tone that made her swoon.

Okay Daddy Jules, her intrusive thoughts purred. Oui, oui...

"Yes."

His grin was wicked. "I missed you. Did you miss me or did you have too much fun with Auré?"

"Yes, only a little bit though."

"Only a little bit?" His eyebrows rose. "Well, I guess I have to change your mind then." His lips captured hers again, one hand cradling her face. "You. Should. Spend. The. Night. With. Me." Each word punctuated with a kiss.

"I like that but..." she managed as his lips found her collarbone.

"But?" Those brown eyes looked up at her.

"I'm catching a flight... to London."

His eyebrows furrowed. "Want to visit your other man?"

"Nah, nah. Lewis is a friend. Yes he's fine as fuck but I don't do older guys. Not my type."

Jules chuckled. "Yeah, that's cool. Are you leaving me and Auré?"

"No, never, at least not right now. Four weeks from now, yes." She wrapped her arms around his neck. "But it'll be two days max. Hell, I don't think I'll even be there for the race. Just wanted to drop in and catch up and see his dog. Have you seen pictures of Roscoe? He's a cutie."

"I follow Lewis on Instagram. He's the GOAT."

Of course he does, she thought.

"But I'm happy you're coming back. It's good to explore different cities. Broaden your horizons." He waggled his eyebrows before kissing her again. "You told Auré?"

"No, not yet, but instead of one-on-one dinner... maybe something for the... uh... three of us?" His look said we're doing this? "No, not like that...." His eyes widened. "Maybe. We'll see. Just figured it'd be great to talk and chill before I'm off to London."

"Sounds good to me. Let's go before Coach has a conniption wondering where I am."

They walked back toward the locker room. Players and staff bustled around them, some nodding at Jules, others pretending not to notice how close he stayed to her. Outside the locker room doors, he turned to face her. The intensity in his eyes was different now - part pre-match focus, part something else entirely.

"See you after the match?"

"Of course."

He leaned down for one more kiss, this one slower, like he was trying to memorize the feel of her lips. Then he pulled back, that game-face sliding back into place as he disappeared into the locker room.

YN headed toward her seat, trying to focus on the match ahead and not on how dinner with both of them would go.

Focus on football, she told herself. But even she knew that was a lost cause.

______________________________________________

The match ended in a 0-0 draw against Portugal, and YN's two baguettes were visibly frustrated, discussing the game in rapid-fire French across the restaurant table.

"L'attaque était horrible!" (The attack was horrible!) Jules complained, stabbing at his salmon.

"On aurait dû gagner," (We should have won) Aurélien added, gesturing with his fork. "Ces putains d'arbitres..." (These fucking referees...)

They caught themselves, noticing YN quietly eating her steak.

"Sorry, belle," Aurélien switched to English. "How's your food?"

"Really good," she cut another piece of her medium-rare steak. "Though y'all are scary when you're mad."

"Not mad," Jules corrected. "Frustrated. Big difference."

"Speaking of differences," she started, "I'm heading to London tomorrow."

Aurélien took a sip of Coca-Cola. "To visit your man Lewis?"

Jules giggled - he'd made the same assumption earlier.

"He's just a friend," YN snapped. "And if he wasn't, I thought you didn't care anyway."

Aurélien glanced at Jules. "Son attitude? Elle est sérieuse?" (Her attitude? Is she serious?)

"Elle fait sa bratty," (She's being bratty) Jules replied as he spread his legs wider.

Their gazes cut to YN.

"My bad, belle," Aurélien said, making her smile. "You coming back?"

"To y'all - yes."

Aurélien's signature smirk appeared. "I like the sound of that."

They continued eating, YN appreciating the space across the table, though their long legs sandwiched hers underneath. When dessert came around, they split a chef sampler that included the best cheesecake YN ever had in her life - sorry mama!

As usual, the boys paid the bill and the walk back to her hotel was comfortable, both men flanking her sides as they strolled through Hamburg's evening streets. In the elevator, Jules pressed her floor while Aurélien's hand found its usual spot on her lower back.

They walked her to her door and YN reached up on her tip-toes to kiss Aurélien goodbye, but he gently pushed her back down.

"Aren't you gonna invite us in?" The hell?

"Yeah, we have to discuss something," Jules added.

YN glanced between them. "About? I have to pack, boys."

"We know and we'll even help." Aurélien said.

"Just five minutes," Jules promised.

"Max," added Aurélien.

YN muttered "okay" and let them in, Jules closing the door behind them.

"Your attitude's been trash lately," Aurélien started.

"What the hell?"

"If we're gonna be doing this, we shouldn't get snappy with each other. That only makes things worse. We know that seeing all the shit on the blogs is tough but there's a better way to voice your frustration," Jules said.

"Especially since it deals with all three of us," Aurélien added.

Uhn-uhn, not them giving you an intervention! her intrusive thoughts said.

Yeah, who do they think they are - you don't pay them to read you to filth like this, her rational thoughts agreed.

"Now hold on a second–"

"Let us finish, chérie," Jules held up a hand. "This is why you had that panic attack? The bullshit on the blogs?" Both sets of eyes bore into her until she nodded. "'Member what we said about using your words?"

I know this nigga is not...

"Yes - I had a panic attack because of that. Because of what may happen if they found out that I'm also hanging out with Aurélien."

The boys exchanged words in French. She really needed to get on her Zoom on Duolingo...

"Maybe you should hang out with one of us then? If you're scared of–" Jules started.

"No!" she surprised even herself. "We're not - I don't want to do that. I like Aurélien."

"Oh, belle," he said cockily, then sobered. "If it worries you though, it might be best. I don't want you to have another panic attack."

"We just have to be careful, okay?" she suggested. "Just be mindful of our surroundings. I don't want to stop hanging out with you, Aurélien. Really."

More French consultation, then Jules: "Okay, if you think that's best. We just be careful then."

"So maybe no more matches?" Aurélien said. Before YN could protest, he continued, "because they will keep trying to figure out who you're with, so no more matches and we hang out in each other's rooms. Sounds good?"

"Good," Jules said.

"Fine," YN replied defiantly, folding her arms.

Aurélien kissed his teeth. "Your fucking attitude."

"I swear," Jules shook his head. "We may have to do something about it."

"We might," Aurélien agreed, their gazes turning hungry. YN gulped.

"Take a seat on the bed, chérie," Jules commanded. YN remained frozen. "What did I say?" The bass in his voice made her sit immediately on the edge.

"Take off your shoes then scoot up to the headboard," Aurélien said. Again she froze until his arched eyebrow basically said I know you heard me loud and clear.

She did as told, removing her mules and scooting back against the headboard. Jules and Aurélien toed off their sneakers, the soft thuds against the floor echoing in the room. She couldn't quite believe what was happening. The way they moved — their confidence, the unspoken understanding between them — made her breath catch in her throat.

Jules was the first to climb onto the bed, taking his place on her left. Aurélien followed, settling on her right. They were close enough that their warmth seeped into her skin, their combined presence intoxicating.

"You can back out at any time," Jules murmured, his voice low and soothing as his hand rested lightly on her knee. "We won’t push you to do anything you don’t want."

"Whatever you want," Aurélien added.

YN swallowed, trying to calm the swirl of emotions in her chest. She didn’t feel pressured — just overwhelmed in the best way possible. "Just kissing…for right now," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. Because anything besides that, I think I might combust...

Both men nodded, their acceptance of her boundaries making her exhale in relief.

Jules leaned in first, tilting her chin gently with his fingers. His lips brushed against hers, warm and soft, the kiss starting slow. YN sighed into him, her hands hesitantly resting on his chest. Jules then deepened the kiss, his thumb caressing her cheek, coaxing small, breathy moans from her lips.

Aurélien’s hand slid up her thigh, staying over her clothes but sending sparks through her body. She broke the kiss with Jules, turning toward Aurélien, who was already leaning in. His kiss was firmer, more demanding, his hand coming up to cradle the back of her neck as he took control. YN moaned into his mouth, her body tingling as his thumb traced slow circles against her nape.

The feel of both their hands on her, their energy so different yet equally electrifying, had her melting. Jules pressed a kiss to the side of her neck while Aurélien nibbled gently on her lower lip, pulling away just enough to murmur against her mouth, "You know I should spank you for talking to me like that at the restaurant, don’t you?"

YN’s eyes widened. His tone was teasing, but the heat in his gaze said he meant every word.

Aurélien smirked as he kissed her again, this time slower, savoring the moment. "But I’ll save that for another time," he added, his words a rumble against her lips.

That sounds like a promise, sir! her intrusive thoughts chimed in, but she pushed it aside.

Even though she had a really nice — and it was really nice — time with Enzo and Carina, doing two guys at once was too much for her at the moment, yet that didn't go without saying that she hadn't dreamt about it, dreamt about them.

For now, this was enough. This was perfect.

Jules' hands slipped up to cup her breasts over her blouse, his touch confident but not demanding. Aurélien followed suit, his large hand settling on her waist, his thumb brushing the edge of her rib cage.

YN let herself get lost in the sensations — their mouths on hers, their hands exploring. Her moans filled the space between kisses, soft gasps escaping as they found ways to make her tremble under their attention.

Aurélien broke the kiss, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, "You’re incredible, belle. Perfect."

Jules hummed his agreement, pressing a lingering kiss to her jawline. "Just say the word, and we’ll stop," he reminded her.

YN shook her head, her voice breathy as she replied, "Don’t stop. Not yet."

And with that, she gave herself over to the moment, letting their kisses and touches drown out every doubt. For now, she didn’t have to think about anything else — just the feeling of being cherished by both of them, right here and now.

The heat in the room thickened as their hands and lips explored, each movement a blend of curiosity and simmering passion. YN found herself caught between their bodies, Jules’ lips brushing against her neck while Aurélien captured her mouth in a kiss that left her breathless. Her hands, trembling with a mix of nervousness and desire, wandered over Jules’ toned chest. Her fingertips skimmed over his defined muscles before dipping lower, where she felt his erection straining against her touch.

Jules let out a low groan, his lips momentarily pausing on her neck. His eyes fluttered shut as her hand pressed more firmly. "Should I stop?" she asked, her hand stilling.

Jules shook his head, his voice rough with desire. "You’re good," he assured her. His words sent a thrill through her, and she bit her lower lip, the action catching Aurélien’s attention.

Aurélien pulled back slightly, his dark eyes searching her face. "You good?" he asked, his voice soft yet firm.

"No sex tonight," YN declared, her voice steady despite the warmth pooling in her stomach.

Both men nodded immediately, their agreement firm. "No sex," Aurélien echoed, his lips brushing her cheek.

"But…" she started, her voice trailing off. Jules raised a curious brow, silently encouraging her to continue. "I wouldn’t mind more kissing… and touching. If you’re okay with that."

Aurélien smirked, his hand cupping her face. "You should already know that I’m down," he teased, causing her and Jules to chuckle softly.

Jules grinned, his hand brushing lightly over her waist. "That’s fine. This is all about you, chérie."

"Exactly," Aurélien agreed, his warm gaze settling on her.

YN’s lips curved into a half-nervous, half-excited smile as she let their words sink in. "Good," she said, feeling a surge of boldness. Her eyes flicked between them before she clapped her hands playfully. "So… take off your pants. And those drawers."

Aurélien let out a laugh, his brow arching in mock indignation. "Damn, not you treating us like your little sluts," he joked, but he slid off the bed nonetheless. Jules followed, both of them making quick work of their clothing.

Aurélien unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans, letting them drop to the floor. His shirt followed next, revealing his broad shoulders and toned chest, and then his boxers, leaving him gloriously bare. Jules mirrored his actions, peeling away his shirt, then his jeans and briefs in one fluid motion.

Both men stood before her, naked and unapologetically confident, their skin glistening under the dim lighting. The way their muscles flexed as they moved, the unapologetic confidence in their stances.

Bless you, Lord…

Bless Him indeed, praised her intrusive thoughts.

YN couldn’t stop her appreciative gaze from lingering. She exhaled deeply, her hands trembling slightly as she began to undress herself. First, her pants slid off, pooling around her ankles. Then came her halterneck top, revealing her bare shoulders and curves. Her panties were next, followed by the pasties she had carefully applied earlier. By the time she was finished, both men were back on the bed, flanking her sides as before.

"Okay, don’t make this awkward," she muttered, her cheeks warming at the vulnerable position she was in.

Aurélien chuckled, leaning in close to brush his lips against hers. "You’re the one making it awkward," he teased before capturing her mouth in a deep kiss.

"Very awkward," Jules added with a grin, his lips finding her neck again, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down her spine.

Her hands moved on instinct, exploring them both — Aurélien’s firm chest and the ripple of Jules’ abs. Their touches grew bolder as well, Jules’ hands cupping her breast firmly while Aurélien’s lips wandered to her collarbone. YN’s head fell back against the headboard, a soft moan escaping her lips as their attention left her dizzy.

Jules gripped her jaw gently, tilting her face toward him so he could claim her lips. His kiss was deep, deliberate, his lips moving against hers with intoxicating intensity. Meanwhile, Aurélien scooted lower on the bed, his mouth latching onto her breast. The warmth of his tongue flicking over her nipple sent jolts of pleasure coursing through her, and she arched into his touch, her body responding instinctively to the sensations.

Jules’ free hand wandered downward, his fingers skimming the curve of her thigh before massaging the soft flesh with firm, slow circles. His touch was unhurried, as though he was savoring every second. With a gentle nudge, he pushed her thighs apart wider, creating more space for him to explore. His fingers grazed the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, his knuckles brushing against her clit in the faintest tease that made her gasp against his mouth.

"Can I touch you here?" Jules asked, his lips brushing against hers as his hand hovered at her center, waiting for her permission.

"Yes…" YN breathed, her voice trembling with need as her hips arched slightly, granting him better access. At the same moment, Aurélien’s mouth moved to her other breast, his teeth grazing her nipple before his tongue soothed the sting. The combined sensations left her head spinning, her body aflame with desire.

Jules’ fingers pressed against her folds, sliding through her wetness. He hissed softly, his reaction sending a thrill through her. "You’re so wet," he murmured, his lips barely moving from hers.

"How wet is she?" Aurélien asked, pulling back from her breasts, his voice rich with curiosity and amusement.

Jules didn’t hesitate, his hand moving briefly from her body. "Soaked," he replied, holding up his fingers, which glistened with her arousal. Without thinking, he brought them to her lips. YN didn’t need instruction — she opened her mouth, her tongue flicking over his fingers before she sucked them clean, her gaze locked with his.

"Putain," Jules muttered, his brown eyes darkened with lust as he stared at her. There was a raw hunger in his gaze, an intensity that made her shiver under his scrutiny. She moaned softly when his fingers slipped from her mouth, her body still tingling from the taste of herself on his skin.

"You sure this isn’t weird?" she managed to say, the words slipping out before she could stop them. Foot, meet mouth, yet again.

Aurélien chuckled lowly, his large hands sliding up to cup her waist. "Yes. Now be quiet and enjoy it," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The logical part of her brain — the one still vaguely aware of social norms — tried to remind her of the surreal nature of the situation, how the two of them had undoubtedly seen each other naked countless times before, not to mention this clearly wasn’t their rodeo. But that thought quickly dissolved when Jules silenced her with another kiss, this one gentler, almost reassuring, yet no less passionate.

Aurélien’s fingers joined the mix, his touch grazing the sensitive skin of her inner thigh before moving to where Jules had left off. Jules’ hand slid downward again, his touch more assertive now, parting her folds with practiced ease. His fingers stroked her clit in small, deliberate circles while Aurélien’s fingers plunged into her slowly, stretching her.

The two worked in sync, their movements seamless and perfectly timed, as though they’d rehearsed this. Jules’ fingers teased her clit with increasing pressure while Aurélien’s plunged deeper, curling slightly to hit just the right spot that made her cry out, her hips rolling to meet their touch as the pleasure built to a near-overwhelming peak.

Aurélien’s lips found her neck again, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below her ear. "You feel so good," he murmured, his voice low and reverent. His fingers quickened their pace, his thumb brushing against her clit in time with Jules’ movements.

Jules watched her intently, his free hand tracing lazy patterns over her thigh while his other continued its rhythm. "This is all for you, chérie," he whispered, his voice laced with heat. "Just cum."

YN’s breaths came out in ragged pants, her body trembling as the sensations threatened to consume her. She was lost to the pleasure, her mind a haze of touch and desire and soft, murmured words. "I can’t…" she gasped, her back arching off the bed.

"You can," Aurélien assured her, his lips brushing against her jaw as his fingers hit that spot again. "And you will."

With a strangled cry, YN finally gave in, her body shuddering violently as waves of pleasure washed over her. Jules and Aurélien didn’t let up, their hands guiding her through the high until her body relaxed, boneless and sated between them. Both of them leaned down to kiss her softly — Aurélien on her cheek, Jules on her lips.

YN slowly came down from her orgasmic high, her body resettling after the aftershocks had dissipated. Letting out a sigh, she glanced down and spotted their erections – both of them still hard beyond measure, desperate for release.

"Should I suck–"

"No," Aurélien said whilst Jules simultaneously shook his head.

"I’m fine," added Jules. "We’re good."

Her eyes traveled back onto their penises. Don’t look fine to me… "You sure?"

"Positive," they said in unison.

"There’s always next time," said Aurélien as he slipped off the bed, grabbing his phone before making his way to the bathroom. "I’ll be back."

And with that, he closed the door behind him and YN was briefly consumed with her thoughts.

Kinda mean to have him rub one out when you have perfectly capable mouth and hands. Shameful, her intrusive thoughts chided.

No - you stood your ground on your boundaries. This is a win-win situation, countered her rational thoughts.

"If you keep staring at it, you’ll just make it harder," Jules’ voice pulled her out of her reverie and her gaze connected with his. As usual, Jules was cool and collected – relaxing comfortably in bed with his arms tucked behind his head.

"What?"

"My dick," he explained. "Keep staring at it like that and it’ll just get harder. Come ‘ere and cuddle."

Ooh, yes!

YN smiled brightly at his words and scooted beside him, snuggling deep into his side and hummed when he wrapped his arms around her.

"Are you doing okay?" he wondered after a few silent moments of her lying on his chest. "I know that this is a lot for you, but I want to make sure you’re good with…everything….Auré and I at the same time."

"I’m good, Jules."

"Seriously?"

YN lifted her head up from his chest to stare at him. "Yeah…just getting used to it. The possibility of–"

"Fucking us both?"

Even though that was exactly what she thinking, it still made her cheeks warm upon hearing it aloud. This time that they’ve spent together was nice and it did make her curious about how she could handle being so…full. Unlike her disastrous – and perhaps questionable – porn choices, no one has had the pleasure of being inside her other hole. Not like there hasn’t been any instances on trying; it just never panned out correctly. Perhaps she wasn’t doing it the right way (as if one needed extra instruction on anal sex) or maybe it wasn’t with the right partner (which seemed like the case). Either way, she never given it much thought besides now, that is.

"How did you guys do it before? With that girl from Bordeaux?"she wondered and Jules’ eyebrows furrowed. "I just want to know the positions–"

"We Eiffel Tower’d her." Direct. To the point. No hesitation.

YN tried to suppress a giggle at the double entendre, but failed miserably and a small chortle managed to escape. "Two French guys Eiffel Towering a girl?"

Jules dawned onto the gist of what she was saying and he even let out a chuckle himself. "I know, the joke writes itself." Then, he cleared his throat and exhaled a breath. "I mean….shit…we were so young. No anal sex though, just her mouth and pussy. We can just do that if it makes you more comfortable."

Interesting. "Have you tried it before?"

"Once," he said, the edges of his mouth curving upwards into a mischievous grin as he reminisced. "Not a personal fave, but lots of lube can help with that."

Then, they heard the toilet flush followed by the sounds of running water. Seconds later, Aurélien made his way out of the bathroom and sauntered over to the bed, sliding back onto his side as if he never left.

"You good, bébé?" Her overly caring — lover? situationship? — asked as one of his hands trailed down her spine.

"Yes," YN said, doing her darnedest to not moan as he caressed her soft skin, yet she did allow a shiver to go down her body upon feeling his slightly damp fingers.

"YN's curious about anal sex," said Jules, and she shot him a warning look, which caused him to laugh.

"You’re a freaky girl," was all Aurélien said as his hand continued its route downwards, moving from her back to the top of her ass. "I don’t think you’re ready for all of that yet."

"How do you know if I’m ready for all of that?" she retorted, accusingly, turning over to the other side to give him her full attention.

Instead of answering verbally, Aurélien’s hand skimmed lightly over her ass cheeks and then gently coaxed them apart until he came in contact with her virgin anus. She flinched at the feeling, and Aurélien scoffed.

"You’re not ready for all of that," he repeated then moved his hand to her lower back. YN rolled her eyes despite herself and a grin appeared on his annoyingly handsome face.

"Anyways," she started, turning around once more to Jules. "what time is it? I should get some things packed."

Jules removed one hand from behind his head to grab his phone from the other bedside table, tapping the screen to check the time. "Almost midnight."

Shit. She had six hours before she had to be up and ready to head to the airport.

With a groan, YN carefully slipped out of bed, scooting all the way down to the bottom edge and then walking over to the closet to take out her carry-on. Meanwhile, the boys didn’t move an inch – just lounged there like the sexy predators they embodied, naked as the day they were born.

"I’m surprised that you guys didn’t put on clothes or boxers…something," she muttered as she began to rifle through the closet for clothes to wear in England.

"We saw each other naked too many times to count," Aurélien said as he picked up his phone to scroll mindlessly through it. "Why? Should we put on some clothes?"

"I think she might be kicking us out," proclaimed Jules as he watched her pack then unpack her clothing selection from his side of the bed. "Pack a jacket, chérie. It’s supposed to be fourteen degrees Celsius in London tomorrow."

Celsius? What? "Huh?" That definitely made her halt her movements.

"Ah, you gotta say it in American, JK," explained Aurélien with an amused chuckle.

Jules muttered a curse under his breath. "Fifty-seven degrees your temperature."

Then why don’t they just say that? "Oh, thanks." YN scanned her closet for that jean jacket her mama packed, found it, and then place it inside the carry-on – along with another coord set, a maxi dress, two linen shirts, a pair of jeans, her mules, and some underwear. Doing the most for two days, of course. Always. But she needed options. "And for the record, I’m not kicking y’all out. Just…noticing."

"Noticing bad or noticing good?" This came from Aurélien, who finally shifted his gaze away from whatever he was watching on his phone to her.

YN shrugged nonchalantly. "Just noticing." Both of them let out a barely audible utterance. Hmm… "Sleepover?"

"Always."

"Of course."

Satisfied with both her clothing choices and their answers, YN decided to leave packing her skincare and makeup until tomorrow morning then grabbed her bonnet from the dresser and place it over her head before padding inside the bathroom to do her nightly routine.

She cleaned her face quickly, removing her makeup and then brushing her teeth. YN pulled on an oversized t-shirt and panties after she left the bathroom, climbing back into bed and in her designated spot in the middle.

They popped on her like grease out of a pan – arms wrapping around her (they definitely rehearsed that move), lips on either side of her neck, phones forgotten. The urban nightlife filtered through the windows, its sounds and lights scattered across the room to create the perfect ambiance as YN basked in being sandwiched between the two of them, enjoying the way both of their bodies molded next to hers, their scent wafting through her nostrils.

I could get used to this.

"Night, boys."

"Night, chérie." A little grumble from Jules, cuddling close.

"Bonne nuit, bébé." A low, yet deep murmur from Aurélien.

Her boys. YN flashed a wide grin in the dark, feeling cozy and relaxed. With the warmth surrounding her, she let sleep take over, happily drifting into dreamland.

______________________________________________

The alarm blaring jolted YN awake. She found herself sandwiched between Jules and Aurélien, both still deep in sleep.

"Turn it off," Aurélien groaned.

"Working on it," she sassed back, looking around the room. "If I could find it…"

Her phone had somehow ended up in her purse near the armchair. Among her notifications:

LewLew Bean: Text when you land tomorrow x. Roscoe's excited to see you!

BallerAlert: YN_YLN's ex-boyfriend spotted with Victoria's Secret model at LA hotspot

She chuckled at how they didn't even use Damari's name anymore.

"Where you going?" Aurélien's hand caught her wrist as she headed to the bathroom.

"Getting ready for my flight or did you forget?"

He kissed his teeth, muttering something before rolling over. Jules continued snoring, pillow still covering his head.

They're annoying, she thought, watching them sleep, but damn if they aren't cute. After last night, everything felt… different. Maybe juggling two French best friends wasn't as complicated as she'd thought.

After showering and packing her toiletries, she pulled on her airport fit - half-zip pullover, cropped tee, wide-leg sweats. She was lacing up her Nikes when they finally stirred.

"Morning, Sleeping Beauties."

"Morning."

"Mmmhmm."

"We can order breakfast before I go."

"Boo," Aurélien pouted.

Jules giggled, licking his lips. "Sounds like a plan."

While Aurélien used one of the hotel toothbrushes, Jules beckoned YN over with a crooked finger. Like a good girl, she sashayed to his side of the bed, letting him guide her down until they were eye-level.

His lips met hers softly - the kind of kiss that said don't forget us. All gentle pressure and sweet promise.

"Be safe over there," he murmured, fingers trailing from her shoulders to her neck, thumb stroking her cheek. "I don't know if I like your hair better up or down." He studied her low-maintenance bun.

"I prefer it down," Aurélien said as he returned to his side of the bed.

"Yeah, might be my favorite too," Jules agreed before heading to brush his teeth.

They shared breakfast - eggs, pastries, fruit - stealing bites from each other's plates like they'd done this a hundred times.

After getting dressed, they followed her as she got on the elevator, their hands filled with her bags. Both men hugged her goodbye in the lobby - Jules kissed her forehead while Aurélien squeezed her waist.

"See you Sunday," she promised.

"See you, cherie." Jules' response was sweet as usual, his eyes filled with longing.

"Don't have too much fun with Lewis," Aurélien said with a wink - ever the jokester but YN could tell that he was going to miss her too.

She gathered her carry-on and tote, handing them off to the driver before slipping inside the back seat, watching them wave as her Uber then pulled away.

Different, she thought again. But good different.

______________________________________________

"You really didn't have to pick me up," YN said as Lewis loaded her carry-on into his Mercedes SUV.

"Please, what kind of host would I be?"

A fine as hell one, her intrusive thoughts noted, appreciating how his t-shirt stretched across his shoulders. But for once, the attraction stayed purely aesthetic - like admiring art in a museum. No urge to touch, just respect for the craftsmanship.

A happy bark interrupted her thoughts. Roscoe's wrinkled face appeared between the front seats, tongue lolling out.

"Oh my god, he's even cuter in person!" She reached back to scratch behind his ears. The bulldog immediately flopped into her touch, making Lewis laugh.

"He's usually shy with new people." Lewis glanced over as he pulled onto the motorway. "You must be special."

"Nah, animals just know good people. Right, Roscoe?"

Another enthusiastic bark.

"So," Lewis's gap-toothed smile flashed, "tell me about these French boys of yours."

YN groaned, but found herself smiling. There was something comfortable about Lewis - like talking to a friend who'd seen it all and judged none of it.

"Well," she settled in for the drive, Roscoe's head now resting on her arm. "Last night was... interesting."

"Oh?"

"Let's just say there was some three-way kissing involved..."

"Holy shit!" Lewis nearly swerved. "You really out here living your best life!"

"The French are wild though."

"And you're just now figuring this out?"

Frank Ocean's "Pink + White" played softly as they drove through London's posh neighborhoods. Finally, they pulled up to a stunning Georgian house, complete with climbing vines and white gravel drive.

"This is so British," YN marveled, following Roscoe up the path.

The door opened to reveal a petite white woman with cropped hair. "This must be YN!"

"This is my mum, Carmen," Lewis said casually, slipping inside with her bags in tow.

First I'm staying here, now I'm meeting his mother? Does she think we're—

GURRRRLLLL! her intrusive thoughts screeched.

"Hi Miss Carmen," YN opened her arms for a hug, breathing in cookies and peonies - the most British smell ever.

"Come in! How was your flight?" Carmen ushered her inside. The house was gorgeous - checkerboard foyer tiles, winding staircase, wainscoting, and family photos everywhere. The kitchen was all navy cabinets, marble counters, and brass fixtures. "I've made some lunch. Would you like fish and chips?"

"I love fish and chips!" YN burst out enthusiastically, making Carmen's eyebrows shoot up. "Sorry, I tend to get—"

"Don't apologize. I love the enthusiasm. It's cod, okay?"

"Sounds good." Carmen plated the food and set it before YN. "Thank you, ma'am."

"Oh, you're so polite. And pretty."

Lewis finally appeared, leaning against the counter. "I'll show you your bedroom in a second. How is it?"

"She didn't try it yet, love." Carmen urged YN to take a bite. The fish was perfectly seasoned. Carmen beamed at her reaction. "It's my famous seasoning blend. Bit different than what you'd expect from a pub, but it's good right?"

"So good," YN agreed, trying the fries. Then YN's foot-in-mouth disease struck: "So… who do you think I am to Lewis?"

"I know you two are good friends," Carmen smiled. "Besides, this one is making me wait to become a grandmother unfortunately."

"You have Roscoe, Mum," Lewis said with a small smile playing on his lips.

"A human grandchild would be nice."

"You have those too. Four of them to be exact," Lewis pointed out.

"I want more!"

"And you will. When I retire."

"In three years!" Carmen harrumphed.

YN shrugged, taking another fry. "I mean, you are forty with no kids. Seems sus."

Lewis's jaw dropped while Carmen cheered. "Thank you!"

"He needs a nice woman to date. None of those model types. We've been there, done that too many times over," his mother continued.

"Maybe a businesswoman?" YN suggested.

"Ooh yes! Do you know any single women, preferably ages thirty-two to thirty-seven?"

"Okay, mum, that's enough. YN's not here to play matchmaker."

"I do, actually," YN said, making them both exclaim: "Really?!"

"I mean, she's divorced and has two kids - six-year-old twins but they're so cute and well-behaved."

"I don't know about becoming a stepdad," Lewis said apprehensively. "I don't want to overstep."

"Lewis, love, you're so great with kids!" Carmen insisted.

I think she's just willing to take on anyone at this moment.

"What she look like?" Lewis asked.

"Oh? You're taking it seriously?"

He shrugged. "Just curious, is all."

"Mmhmm," YN took out her phone, opened Instagram, and typed in 'Sabine Wurley', her label's A&R exec - a gorgeous Trini-Canadian with toffee skin, doe eyes, and all the Caribbean curves to match.

"Holy shit she's gorgeous," Carmen gasped.

"She's nice looking," Lewis said flatly. YN stared at him like he had three heads. "Give me her number."

"If I'm going to throw the alley-oop, don't fuck up her heart. I love Sab a lot."

"I won't."

"Promise me," YN pressed. "I'm deadass."

"Fine, fine, I promise. Dang."

YN forwarded the contact with a smirk. Sabine and Lewis? She could work with that.

🌹🇫🇷 Group Chat:

Aurélien 🌹 Miss you already 😘 These hotel beds are too big without you

Jules 🇫🇷 Speak for yourself. I'm spread out like a starfish

YN Y'all are so dramatic 🙄

Aurélien 🌹 Says the one who needed us both to sleep last night

Jules 🇫🇷 Exactly. Training bout to start. Talk soon.

YN Have fun! Be careful...

Jules 🇫🇷 You worried about us? Cute.

Aurélien 🌹 Very cute. Tell Lewis we said hi but not too enthusiastically 😏

YN smiled at her phone, scrolling through the group chat with her French baguettes. Twenty-four hours felt longer than it should.

Girl, you're down BAD, her intrusive thoughts teased as she pocketed her phone, letting Roscoe lead her around Silverstone's paddock. The bulldog stopped to sniff literally everything before finally choosing the perfect patch of grass.

"Is that YN?"

"Who's she?"

"The singer!"

"Why does she have Roscoe?"

The paddock photographers weren't confused at all - their cameras clicked away while she tried to wrangle an overexcited bulldog who'd spotted another driver's water bottle.

"Roscoe, no — that's not yours!" She tugged gently at his leash.

Too busy texting Jules back ("Show them what that ass do 😏"), she crashed right into someone in an orange racing suit - McLaren? "Oh shit, sorry!"

"No worries!" Blue eyes crinkled as he smiled. "I'm Lando."

She introduced herself politely, taking in his cute boyish features. Her horn-o-meter, usually quick to jump for any attractive man with an accent, stayed firmly at 0. Maybe she was catching feelings for her French boys if this British cutie wasn't doing it for her.

Or maybe, her intrusive thoughts suggested, you just have a type now: tall, dark, and speaks French.

Back at the Mercedes garage, Lewis scooped her into a hug. "Thanks for dog duty."

Rosa, his comms personnel, led Roscoe to his bed in the corner while Lewis started suiting up for qualifying.

"Good energy today," he said, zipping up his race suit. "I can feel it."

"You sound just like my mama with all this energy talk."

"Your mama knows what's up then."

YN rolled her eyes, checking her phone again.

"Missing the French boys already?"

"Mind your business!"

"Not very hot girl summer of you," he teased, pulling on his gloves. "Thought you weren't catching feelings?"

"I'm not!" But even she heard the uncertainty in her voice. A little 'missing you' doesn't mean anything, right?

Whatever you say, both her intrusive and rational thoughts weren't too convinced.

"Mhmm. Sure." He grinned. "Keep telling yourself that while you check your phone every two minutes."

"Shouldn't you be focusing on qualifying?"

"I am. And you're focusing on your messages from Jules and Aurélien."

She watched him qualify - still clueless about what was happening but proud of his P4 position based on everyone's reactions. But even as the garage celebrated, her mind wandered to Hamburg, wondering if her French boys were doing well at practice.

After qualifying, YN and Lewis walked arm in arm through the paddock, Roscoe trotting beside them. She pretended not to notice the cameras clicking or hear the whispers.

"They'd really lose it if they knew about your French situation," Lewis murmured.

"Don't you dare—"

"I would never. But it's funny watching them try to figure out who you're with."

Back at his place, they ordered Indian takeout and sprawled on his massive couch, Roscoe snoring between them.

"You're leaving early tomorrow?"

"Miss my boys," she admitted, shoving another piece of naan in her mouth.

"Oh, really?" he teased, but his smile was kind. "Though I once drove six hours just to see this model for like... two hours max."

"Lewis Hamilton, you dog!"

"I heard women do crazy things when they're dickmatized."

"I am NOT dickmatized!" She threw a pillow at him. "I just... miss them."

"Mhmm." His knowing look said everything. "It's cool though. Young, free, exploring. Just be careful with those feelings."

"I know." She got up to hug him, ready to head to her room to tuck in for the night. "Good luck tomorrow. Show these young boys how it's done."

"Always do." But she could tell he was a bit sad she'd miss the race. "Text me when you land?"

"Of course. And thanks for... everything."

"Anytime, Lil' Bit."

She pretended not to notice how soft his smile was. Lewis Hamilton, seven-time world champion, was a whole teddy bear underneath all that swagger.

_______________________________________________

The next morning, scrolling through her phone in the airport lounge, she saw:

PopCultureDaily: YN's European Tour continues! From Monaco clubs to Silverstone with Lewis Hamilton - sis is LIVING 🔥 [Photos: YN dancing in Monaco, walking with Lewis at Silverstone]

view all comments.... celebtea: Hot Girl Summer: Achievement Unlocked ↳ ynglobal: First French footballers now F1? We stan a versatile queen ↳ tsrfans: Better than that NFL bench warmer mayegurl: Still waiting for tea about those TWO French players 👀 ↳ maggiegerty: Wait what? TWO?? sportsgossip: Lewis Hamilton and YN dating? ↳ f1insider: They're just friends y'all ↳ fanpage: The way he looks at her though!

"Now boarding flight 2847 to Hamburg…"

She made he way to board her plane and settled into her aisle seat, already thinking about seeing Jules and Aurélien, when a deep voice interrupted:

"Excuse me, that's my window seat."

YN looked up - and up - into warm brown eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. The stranger was gorgeous in that intellectual way - tall and lean but solid, perfect fade, skin like dark honey, full lips curled in a gentle smile. His navy Tom Ford suit and Cartier watch screamed tenured professor with family money.

Her horn-o-meter jumped to 9.

Another one for the roster? her intrusive thoughts suggested.

Finally, not an athlete, her rational side approved.

"Javaughn Taylor," he introduced himself as he settled in, his Northeast accent surprising her. "Heading to Hamburg for work."

"YN," she replied. "What kind of work?"

"A conference. Economics at Hamburg University. I teach at Columbia."

They talked the whole flight - about music (he played jazz piano), books (they both loved Octavia Butler), travel (he'd just been to Cape Town). His laugh was rich, his intelligence obvious but not showy. He really reminded her of that hot professor everyone had a crush on in college but never dared to approach.

When they landed, she had his number and a flutter in her stomach that had nothing to do with turbulence.

The universe really testing my French situation, she thought, watching him stride away in those perfectly tailored trousers.

TO BE CONTINUED......

[pascalispretty]

mirage on sand

Joel Miller x F! Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.8k

Tags: age gap like woah, 1970s AU, Rockstar Joel, drinking while driving (it's the 70s, standards are different), fingering, oral sex, car sex, daddy kink

Summary: You and Joel entertain yourselves as you drive through the desert to his next concert.

A/N: written for @iamasaddie's 24 hour writing challenge! This was such a good idea and desperately needed to help me get over my writer's block. I was listening to the Daisy Jones and the Six soundtrack, so I blame that for what happened here. Title from Let Me Down Easy by Daisy Jones and the Six. (ao3).

The gas station attendant watches you unabashedly as you lean down to scoop up a copy of Texas Tattle. He’s been staring at you since you came in really, his eyes roaming freely over your bare legs as you wandered down the aisles of the little gas station store. You don’t mind the looking. Men look at you all the time; they have done for years.

You drop the magazine onto the counter, along with a six pack of Coors and two packs of cigarettes. No menthols, you note with irritation, though you shouldn’t have expected much choice in such a tiny store. The cashier smirks at you as he rings you up. His eyes dip down to where your breasts press against the fabric of your dress, the bodice just slightly too small for you.

“You find everything you needed, ma’am?” He asks, packing your purchases with exaggerated care into a paper bag.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“You’re not from around here are you? Reckon I’d remember seein’ a girl as pretty as you around,” he says with a wink. “You here on a trip with your dad?” The poor attempt at flirting makes you wince. You’re even a little annoyed on Joel’s behalf that the attendant hasn’t recognised him, though you suppose he’d have to take his eyes off your tits for more than a second to realise he has a rockstar roaming his forecourt.

“Something like that,” you say noncommittally. You hand him the bills Joel had given you before you came inside. “That should cover the gas too. Keep the change.” You grab the paper bag, eager to leave, to set off with Joel again.

Joel’s already back in the car when you step outside. The heels of your boots click on the asphalt as you cross to the car and open the passenger door.

“You get everything you wanted?” Joel asks, looking at you over the top of his sunglasses. He looks so handsome, the teal of his shirt a gorgeous contrast to the golden tan he’s sporting after weeks of Texas summer.

“And more,” you tell him, shoving the paper bag into the footwell. Before you get into the car, you bring one leg up to take off your boots. Joel had insisted that you should get a pair of real cowboy boots if you were gonna stay in Texas with him. That had been fine in Austin, but once you’d hit desert your feet had gotten way too hot.

With everything stowed in the footwell, there’s just you left to get back in the car. Rather than sitting down in the passenger seat, you crawl over it and straight into Joel’s lap.

“The cashier asked me if I was on a trip with my daddy,” you giggle as you straddle Joel’s hips. Your pretty white sundress rucks up at the top of your thighs and Joel’s hands push the hem higher as his hands slide up to cup your ass over the fabric. The passenger door is still hanging open; you know perfectly well the cashier has a perfect view into the car right now.

“I hope you told him yes.” Joel kisses you then, his stubble scraping your skin as he pushes his tongue into your mouth. It’s messy and desperate and entirely deliberate in showing the cashier exactly who you belong to. He doesn’t let you linger long on his lap; he has a concert tomorrow, and he’s supposed to be in El Paso by tonight.

You’re settled back in your own seat when the car pulls away, the desert opening back up before you like a vast orange ocean, only bisected by the ribbon of asphalt. You try bickering with Joel over control of the radio, but you’re fighting a losing battle. You content yourself with the way his hand feels resting on your thigh, his large palm warm against your skin.

Instead, you amuse yourself by pulling the magazine out of the bag by your feet.

“Whatcha got there?” Joel asks, his thumb tracing idle circles on your thigh.  

“Saw you were mentioned on the cover and got curious.” You start flipping through pages to find whatever they’ve said about him, pausing on some salacious story about the Governor’s wife and a bodyguard.

“If you’re gonna read that trash, you can make yourself useful and open a beer up for me.” You’re reluctant to lose his hand on your leg, but reluctantly you do as you’re told. You hand him a beer, admiring the flex of his forearm as he brings it up to take a sip.

The two of you drive in companionable silence for a while, the desert flying by in a faded golden blur and Fleetwood Mac playing on the radio. You find the article about Joel in the magazine and read him the highlights.

“Apparently half the country is brokenhearted you’ve taken up with some young hussy,” you tease. He chuckles, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“That so?” He puts the now-empty can back in the paper bag and, blessedly, puts his hand back on your thigh. “I don’t think they’re allowed to use words like that, baby.”

“It’s heavily implied. This gossip columnist says it’s like watching a Triple Crown Winner try and enter the Derby with a filly.”

“I got no complaints about the ride.” Joel’s hand slides a little higher up your leg, just beneath the hem of your dress. You let your legs fall open a little. It’s pathetic, really, how easily you respond to Joel. Sometimes he’ll just look at you right and set you to squirming.

“And I’m much more fun to whip.” That gets another chuckle out of Joel, another slide of his hand up your thigh. He’s so close to where you want him that you want to whine, or to beg, or to shimmy your hips down to meet his fingers.

“That you are, baby,” he says fondly, squeezing your thigh. “You gonna tell me what the whole thing said? Apart from callin’ you my pretty little filly.”

“Oh, they started with talking about the new album. How well it’s doing, the guitar auction, who you wrote ‘Please Hold to My Hand’ abou-” You cut yourself off abruptly as Joel’s pinkie finger finally brushes against your cunt.

“Are you not wearin’ panties?” He asks. You turn to look at him with a contrite look on your face.

“Oops. Must’ve forgot,” you say, faux-innocence seeping into your words like syrup. Joel rotates his hand and grunts when he feels just how wet you are.

“Bad girl. When you were crawling around on the seats before, do you think you flashed that teenager a glimpse of this pretty little pussy? Really give him something to think about?” He slides two fingers into you in one smooth motion. The swiftness of it makes you gasp, his thick digits a stretch even though you’d literally woken up to him pressing his cock inside you this morning.

You don’t ever want to get used to Joel. You like that it feels like a challenge every time, Joel pushing against your limits because he knows them better than you know them yourself. Your walls flutter around the intrusion of his fingers, the ache quickly outweighed by pleasure.

“You happy now, baby? Did I ride my pretty filly too hard this morning and put her away wet?” His tone is condescending, but somehow that only makes you wetter.  

Your hands clutch at the gauzy white fabric of your dress as he slowly fucks you with his fingers.

Joel steals glances at you when he can; the road is empty, but he mustn’t want to risk taking his eyes off it completely in case he drives you into a ditch.

It’s hard to sit still, your back arching away from the leather seat as his fingertips bump up against that spot inside you, that secret hidden place he’d found. Your own fingers were too small to reach it; it had been further proof of how Joel just knew you, on the inside as much as the outside.

“Oh daddy,” you moan, clutching your dress so tightly you’re worried it might tear. “Feels so fucking good.”

“I know, baby. You know I only work you hard because you need it, don’t you? Little fillies like you need a firm hand.”

Your hips arch up in presentation, sweat beading on your skin in the too-hot car. It’s the middle of a heatwave and you’re in the desert, you didn’t think it was possible to feel any hotter. And yet Joel does, sending so much heat pouring through your veins you think you might combust.

“Joel,” you pant in between moans. “Daddy, am I allowed to come?”

“You’re allowed to come, baby,” he says magnanimously. “As long as you show me how grateful you are by puttin’ that pretty mouth of yours to work. Been too long since I fucked your throat.”

“Blew you last night,” you remind him, with a flash of indignation. You’d both been drunk, but surely you hadn’t been so forgettable as that.

“Exactly, baby, it’s been hours. I nearly put you on your knees back at the gas station,” he tells you, as nonchalantly as if he’s talking about the weather. You nearly choke on your own tongue at the mental image, and Joel takes that as his cue to work his fingers faster.

“Oh Joel, please,” you whine. Between the tension building in your body and the oppressive heat, you feel like you can barely even breathe anymore. You throw your head back against the headrest, mouth opening in a silent scream.

Your orgasm crashes over you abruptly, all that tension letting to at once until the pleasure of release reaches all the way down to your toes.

A sharp sound of dismay wrenches its way from your throat when Joel removes his fingers from your cunt. Without turning to look at you, he absently wipes his hand on his jeans.

“Good girl. You gonna keep being good for me?” He’s already hard, his cock straining against his tight jeans. You watch, a little mesmerised, as he undoes his belt one-handed.

“I’m always a good girl,” you protest, leaning over to unfasten his jeans. He’s not wearing underwear either, making it easy work to get his cock out. You wrap your fingers around the base, enjoying the weight of it against your palm.

“Careful now, baby. Lie to me and I’ll tan your hide.” Joel says, voice low. You shift in your seat, finding the least uncomfortable way to lean down into Joel’s lap. “Were you bein’ a good girl when you flashed your pussy at that boy?”

“….no,” you admit reluctantly. “Sorry.” Joel’s free hand finds a fistful of your hair.

“Yeah, you’re gonna be sorry, baby. Next time I catch you misbehavin’ like that, it’ll take more than a blowjob to make it up to me.” He says it fondly, even as he pushes your head down. It’s all you can do to open your mouth, the first few inches of him heavy against your tongue.

“I want it messy. Be a good girl an’ get to it.”

Taglist:

@avengersfan25 @misscharlielulu @apenny4thots @its-nebuleuse @totallynotastanacc

[mira-s-bookclub]

Beneath a Veil of Shadows

Azriel x Reader

Note: First time I've ever posted anything I've written, so be aware of that when reading hahsh. I'd love requests or tips <3

Warnings: Mature language, fighting, injury and blood, captives, drugs.

Summary: Y/n knows very well how Azriel feels for her; detest. What happens when Rhysand sends Y/n alongside Azriel on what was supposed to be a "normal" check?

Word Count: 2,7k

. . . . . ╰──╮ ╭──╯ . . . . .

“Oh Gods,” I huff out. I wipe my sweaty palms down the front of my shirt. Having long forgone the idea of looking clean for the duration of this hike. I would not exactly call it a hike. Azriel did though.

“Fucking Hell.” I say, as my foot connects with the branch strategically placed to trip me. There is absolutely no way the male in front of me does not hear my huffing and puffing as we ascent up the hill. I lay in a dramatic Sigh to my complaining. Catching his attention.

Azriel stops beside a tree looking like it desperately needs water, I imagine I am not looking far from that, turning to look back at me.

“Ever occurred to you that complaining doesn’t help?” He mumbles. Looking all energetic and not-at-all sweaty like me. I had to stop during the first 10 minutes of the mission to change my leathers into a plain t-shirt and some knee shorts. I was not exactly the powerful, badass, beautiful-at-any-part-of-the-day warrior I had told the mirror in my bathroom before winnowing to the mountain range. I am fairly sure I did my makeup before leaving. Cannot focus enough right now to remember.

I stop by Azriel and swing off my pack. “Helped you stop, didn’t it?” I look up at him, smirking. He says nothing. Gods damned Illyrian warrior. Could not even bother to break a sweat.

We were sent by Rhysand to scout the area between the two south camps. There were a couple of ingrown roads leading between each camp. Illyrians may have wings and all that glory, but they are not capable of transporting heavier items or foods. The roads were not used by many, but Azriel managed to catch a lesser fae the other day, smuggling some other rather interesting items. It was not news that the Illyrians were importing questionable substances you would not in a thousand years find at the healers. I will give it to them, living in those camps would even make me resort to drugs. But I knew better, it could be poison. Poison for the brain, and poison for the body. It could be addictive.

“We’re close to the Camp, take a break, we’ll wait until nightfall.” Azriel said. Shuffling food and water out of his bag. Looks like we are resting in incline. I start packing out my own food and some fur to sit on. Making it rather cozy under the tree. My back to the tree, eating an apple, I watch him.

I did not lie when Feyre asked me before we left if I would be okay traveling with Azriel. It was not a secret how he looked at me, and how I looked back. I am sure, if he had any choice on the matter, he would choose any other companion. It hurt when he watched me. It felt like whatever I did would never be good enough, I was not good enough.

The Inner Circle all had their own little families inside the Circle. Feyre had Rhys and Nyx. Nesta had even settled down with Cassian and her friends. Her friend who also had, finally, taken the extremely subtle hint Mor had given her. Mor who had shrieked and hid under my blankets after I had convinced her to send out her Love letters to Emerie. Gods, even Amren had finally moved in with Varian and lived part time in the Summer Court. Rhys had even gifted her a healer prescribed sunscreen after she got badly burned. Elain had taken up Lucien’s offer to move to the Day Court, I had even heard rumors of a beautiful garden challenging even Tamlin’s. I was happy for them; I am happy for them. It could get a little lonely at times, but what could you expect? I was not even High fae.

There was a time when I had found solace in Azriel’s company, I like to think he did too. He became close, quiet nights in the library, breakfast at the nearby Café. He helped me a lot at the start.

I had grown up in Cretea, ruled over by Queen Miryam and her mate. An emissary from the Autumn Court had taken me in after finding me out alone by a brothel, abandoned he had told me later on. Neither of us could pinpoint exactly what I was, lesser-fae or mortal, it did not matter to me, he did not care enough to find out. I ended up in the Hewn City and later taken in by Madja after a dramatic incident resulting in Keirn’s broken arm. She had sought after an apprentice for quite some time, luckily for me.

As I watch Azriel I contemplate how my life would have worked out if I had stayed with Madja, and not taken up Cassian’s offer to train. Would I have met Feyre and Rhysand? Would fates have pushed me to Azriel? Or perhaps I would be inside now, safe, drinking tea and reading. I contemplate how Azriel has grown used to evading my every attempt to reconnect, he wasn’t mean per say, but he wasn’t friendly either. A wave of heat comes over me as Azriel bends down, way to close, to scavenge through his pack.

A fast inhale results in my apple choking me. I cough. And cough. And cough. Looking up through my wet eyelashes I see Azriel looking down at me. His face is set in a mixture of uncertainty and humor. Like he is trying so hard not to laugh.

“Don’t you dare laugh.”

“I wasn’t about to.”

“I can see it on your face!” I can feel my cheeks redden.

Azriel loses the battle. He barks out a laugh and turns around, finding a cloth in his bag. “You have drool down your chin.” He snickers.

I snatch the cloth out of hand, drying my face. Azriel sits down beside me, back to the tree. There was an idyllic sort of silence in the mountain at this time, only birds and other animals out and about. This made it worth it - the hike.

“We’re going to slip into the current war-lord’s house and search it for the listed drugs.” Azriel hands me a slip of paper consisting of different substances.

“I didn’t know you write cursive.” I say, tracing his writing with my fingertips.

“Focus.”

“Yes, sir.” Azriel whips his head at me, hitting my head in the process.

“Fucking hell!” I scoot away and hold a hand to my head. “Fine, I know you don’t like me, but you don’t have to act on it?!” I watch his shocked face and wide eyes.

He puts a hand to his face. His voice is hard; “did you hurt yourself?” He looks up at me with those honey brown eyes, causing a shiver down my back.

“No, it’s fine.” I say, rubbing the bump on my head. “I’ve always had a thick head.” He snickers at the fact, though I know he thinks so too. It took me years of training to get to where I am now, it came to a point where even Amren said I was just being careful and considerate of my own body when training, hence why it took so long. But training did not mean being fit, which bites me in the ass on the rest of the way up, and the trip down this god forsaken mountain. Why we could not just take the road was beyond me. Feeling his eyes on me I turn again to Azriel.

I lift my brows. “You know a lot of females would call it creepy when someone is staring at them, especially when they don’t know.”

“You think I don’t like you?” He says. I do not know if I dreamed it or if his eyes were sad, mouth downturned.

“I know you don’t.” The painful truth is hard to swallow, but I have accepted it. “You cannot even find it in you to say ‘Hello’ to me in the morning.” I laugh, a little self-conscious that I notice this. His brows furrows even more and he leans forward.

“I do like you – “

“Gods Azriel, no you don’t,” I bite out, taking a bite out of my apple again. “Have you ever noticed how everyone, but you, compliment my food? Or even my training, which, God forbid, you notice occasionally has gotten good enough to challenge Nesta?” I feel deflated. There are not enough skills in the world to make Azriel look at me any different. I had begged Rhysand not to send me together with Azriel, using the excuse that I was feeling down. Did not support my case that I offered to go to the Mortal Realms to check up on Lucien and Elain, I could not be that sick. Either way, Rhys looked through me and told me that if it really was that bad, then they needed to find a solution to our problem. And I would never go to Couples-therapy with Azriel.

Azriel pulls forward and grabs my hands. “You have no idea, any idea how much you mean to me.” My breath hitched, and he is close enough to hear my thundering heart.

“You are lying.”

“You are delusional to think otherwise. There is not a day when it does not hurt to see you with anyone else, Cassian, Rhys, even laughing with Feyre.” His hair is messy, and his skin is glistening. I cannot help looking down at our hands. His hands, covered in calluses from years of training, scarred, but, oh, so beautiful.

He misunderstands and snatches his hands back, standing up. “You never speak to me, or even look at me. This does not make any sense.” I say.

“I look at you plenty.” He says as I stand up, towering over me.

“But Elain – “

“Elain was not like that. Elain was desperation, from both sides. It was a desperate attempt to get over you. She knew it too. We used to be best friends, you and I, but- “

“But we got too close.” When I look down, my hands are shaking. “Do you have any idea how much it hurt? Still hurts?  When you became distant and started ignoring me?” My voice cracks slightly at the hurt look on his face.

“It was never my intention, know that. I thought you did not want me like that, and when you and Lucien became friends- I could not watch you with anyone else, I would not have survived it.” My throat constricts, my breath comes in shallow gulps of air.

“I didn’t like Lucien; I didn’t like him like that at all.” I say quietly.

I look up at him and he gives me a sad smile.

“Would you back away if I kissed you? Runaway like the rest?” Azriel says softly, his face so open and sincere.

I walk the short distance towards him and take his hands in mine. Leaning up, “Never,” I kiss him. My heart had not felt this full in months, I am sure I would not be overreacting if I said years even. Something fell into place when I dragged my hand through Azriel’s hair, his hands sliding down to cup my backside.

“Azriel, I-” An arrow shot through the trees. My eyes widen as he spins us around, shielding me with his front, with his life. He grunts. An arrow protruding from the edge of his left wing, from the bone and meat around the elbow joint, an inch down and the arrow would have flown right through. My heart beats wildly. Azriel turns and pushes me behind him, shielding me from the position of the archer. What he did not take into consideration was the archer positioned behind our camp, shooting a series of arrows, hitting me. A whimper slips past my mouth and a look down at the arrow in my thigh. A green tint surrounds the wound, I must get the arrow out, fast.

“Y/n!” Azriel yells. He is across the camp in seconds, whipping out a sword, using his pack as shield as he sprints back for me.

“I’m fine!” My breath is fast and shorter by the minute. “Just a flesh wound. Behind you Azriel!” A male slip from the trees and runs straight for Azriel, firing arrows as he goes.

I limp for the trees on the other side, providing cover. Kneeling in the dirt, I grab a hold of my shirt, ripping off a piece, I find the nearest branch and bite down. Taking hold of the arrow, I keep my mind clean of the bloody battle happening just out of this bush, knowing I am of no use reduced by an Ash-arrow; I rip it out. I groan. Blood pools out of the now open wound, and I tie my shirt around my thigh. Blood is already seeping through in red specks on the white fabric. I turn around to watch the battle.

Azriel is locked in a fight with two males, one seemingly high-fae, his movements sloppier than his friend. Convincing me that somebody’s system is not very clean. Another male comes strutting out from the bushes on my right, I duck lower. This one with wings. His movements reveal him to be confident that I have left Azriel. Knowing he stands to win against Azriel three to one.

Seeing an opening I make my move. Sprinting to the left, picking up my knife from my pack, I aim for the Illyrian and throw. My knife hits target, catching his side. He whirls around, not fast enough to duck my punch straight for his nose, breaking the bone. I try for a series of hits and punches, landing some while he evades the rest. I duck and swipe my leg out to catch him as he throws a punch, seeing my mistake a mile away I prepare. His trap works and he catches my foot, throwing me on the ground and lays his weight on top of me.

I steal a glance towards Azriel. Seeing the drugged one on the ground crying out from a serious cut across his abdomen. Another losing in hand-to-hand with Azriel.

A punch to my cheek snaps me out of it. My own knife, swiped, coming to rest against my throat in warning. His face is red and angry, bloody from my hit. “You are going to be a good girl and follow my lead.” He spits in my face.

Knife to the throat, there is not much I can do. I stand still against the Illyrian, not giving me an inch of space to turn on him. “Drop your weapons or she dies.”

Azriel, letting go of the male, slowly turns with his sword yet again in his hand. Looking over him I cannot find any serious wounds other than his wing, knowing that it is not fatal, but must hurt like a bitch. His gaze settles on the knife to my throat. I try to beg him with my gaze to finish these guys off, no matter if my neck is on the line, literally. “Drop. The. Weapon.” He speaks behind me. Azriel stands unmoving, his opponent, laying at his feet, had been wounded enough that adrenaline had kept him going.

“It looks like your boyfriend does not want to cooperate,” He whispers in my ear, his harsh voice making me shiver. “And how can I motivate him?” His knife stabs my throat, and I feel my neck giving away to the knife. I squeeze my eyes shut as blood trickles down my neck. And I hear a clash, as a sword is thrown to the ground.

“Let her go,” He seethes. “I am of more value to you. Rhysand is your problem, isn’t he?” Azriel says. “He stopped the trafficking of substances, but that is not why you are here, is it?”

“No, Shadow-singer. It is not.” His voice is softer, making me open my eyes again. Confusion clouds my mind. What could this mission be about, if not for piracy? I look at Azriel who stares at the male, his knife still against my throat. “You are coming with me.” And neither I nor Azriel is fast enough to respond to the hit, as we are both knocked unconscious.

. . . . . ╰──╮ ╭──╯ . . . . .

To be added to the Taglists, comment:

All ACOTAR - 🌹

All Azriel - 🥀

All TOG - 🌼

[sluttyminghao]

gamers do it better | c.sc x j.ww

♡ pairing: choi seungcheol x jeon wonwoo x female!reader ♡ genre: smut ♡ w.c.: 2k ♡ this fic contains: messy gamers wonwoo and cheol, mention of mutual pining/longing over years, cockwarming, blowjob, mentions of fucking/multiple rounds, degradation (whore, slut), praise, and probably other stuff I've missed ♡ a/n: the brainrot is real...anyways enjoy! thank you to @idyllic-ghost for proof reading and giving tips on how to be More Feral <3

reblogs and feedback are much appreciated!

Living with two men had seemed like a great idea initially until you moved in with them. You were constantly cleaning up after them, making sure they ate proper meals besides drinking energy drinks, and scolding them to go outside for just 10 minutes a day to enjoy the warmth of the sun.

You had lived with Seungcheol and Wonwoo for a number of years. At first, it was because you all took the same Biology class together in college and it was convenient for you to commute together at the same time, but even after your classes finished, you found yourself emotionally attached to these men and couldn't bear to part with them, and the feeling was mutual.

The last 12 months or so had been…more challenging than the last few years. There had been some longing glances from the two men, especially if you had walked around the apartment in just a sports bra and spandex shorts. The occasional graze or touch over your exposed skin had also been noted, and made your heart rate quicken, but nothing had ever been initiated.

Many nights you went into your room and your hands wandered to lower places while thinking about how they’d treat you, how they’d bend you into a pretzel and fill you with cum. But it all dissipated when you went back out to the kitchen and found plates and food littering the kitchen bench. Typical men.

It was a warm summer evening, the sun still peaking over the horizon and bathing your kitchen and living area in a golden glow that took your breath away. As you stood over the stove, contemplating your life choices over the bubbling water with noodles, you hear a sudden shout coming from one of your roommate's rooms, sparking interest.

Normally, Wonwoo is a very quiet and reserved person. He makes small talk with you if you eat a meal together, but apart from that remains either in his room gaming or leaves home before you wake and comes back after you fall asleep. Even still, he pays the bills on time and is extremely good-looking, so you can’t ask for more than that.

Turning the stove off, you place the wooden spoon down and pad to Wonwoo’s room, the door closed as per usual. You rap on the door quickly, and a small mumble of a ‘come in’ can be heard from inside, so you turn the handle and squint against the bright light emitting from his screen computer.

“Are you okay? I heard you scream.”

“Oh, I’m fine, that was Seungcheol who screamed because he’s a little bitch.”

Your eyes drift across to the fluffy-haired man sitting next to him, who's staring at Wonwoo, shocked. He shoves Wonwoo’s shoulder and rolls his eyes, before turning around to face you with an unimpressed look on his stunning features. Seungcheol was stunning in his own way; fluffy black locks he’d permed a few weeks ago, bare-faced and the sweetest smile around.

“I am not a little bitch! He purposefully gave me a jumpscare!” He pouts as you chuckle and Wonwoo follows suit, only for him to immediately switch up and jump from his spot on the bed, stalking towards you until you’ve stepped back as far as you can go, aka hitting the wall with your back.

“You think it’s funny?”

“I-” Your justification is cut off by Seungcheol dragging his fingers up your exposed arm, goosebumps raising in their path. You can feel your heart pounding against your ribcage as he places a hand next to your head, and your palms grow sweaty. He grins and beckons Wonwoo to come over, who’s been watching the interaction intently ever since Seungcheol had backed you against the wall.

Everything about this interaction is like your dreams coming to life right in front of your eyes, the only thing that would place the cherry on top of the cake would be if they actually did bend you like a pretzel and have their way with you.

You feel small as both men stand in front of you, their eyes drinking you in as if they haven't had lingering stares on you before (which they definitely have). You don’t try to stop them as they let their hands roam your figure, fingers fiddling with loose fabric before eventually pulling your clothing off piece by piece until you’re left in nothing but your white cotton underwear.

“Don’t you look so cute like this?” Seungcheol comments, his calloused fingers tracing your nipples and causing them to harden. He smirks as he watches them pebble up, not wasting any time dipping his head down to capture one between his lips, letting the bud roll over his tongue lewdly.

A moan escapes your lips, which is quickly swallowed by Wonwoo who shoves his tongue down your throat messily. Their free hands are roaming untouched parts of your body, and while there’s a nagging in the back of your mind about how you shouldn't be doing this with your roommates, there’s a louder voice yelling at you in your brain for not doing this sooner.

“Look how easily you’re giving yourself up for us, already soaking through your panties,” Wonwoo mumbles against your lips as his thick fingers glide over the cotton, the wet spot undeniable as he presses his fingers against it and watches smugly as you keen at the pleasure.

You can only gasp as Seungcheol pulls himself off your nipple and attaches himself to your neck instead, sucking a bruise into the flesh that will be purple within a couple of hours. Wonwoo glances over at his screen and curses, before heading back to his seat, leaving you and Seungcheol in a confused and lustful state.

“I didn’t realize my next game was about to start, why don’t you be a doll and come and sit on my cock? It’s aching just thinking about being sheathed inside that perfect cunt of yours.”

You feel the wet spot grow larger at his filthy words.

When you don’t move from your spot, Seungcheol takes it upon himself to drag you by your hand to where Wonwoo is sitting and readjusting his headset to prepare for his game. With a small groan, Seungcheol rips your panties off your body, mumbling something about buying you some more later, before positioning you over Wonwoo.

A low whistle escapes Wonwoo’s throat at the sight of your dripping cunt, and feels his cock straining tightly against his sweats. He can’t take it anymore and quickly shoves his sweats and boxers down to pool at his ankles, letting his cock spring up to attention. Your eyes widen at the sight, pre cum beading on the fat mushroom head, a prominent vein trailing down the shaft and his balls twitching in anticipation.

He chuckles but doesn't say a word as he grips your waist to pull you over his cock, and lets the tip slide against your clit, a garbled whine escaping your lips at the feeling. He grins and taps the head of his cock against your clit teasingly multiple times, and with each teasing pass you feel your whines grow louder and needier. In a moment of lust, you feel Wonwoo’s lips come up to nibble on your jaw, sending a variety of feelings through your body.

“W-wonu…please…need you,” your breathing is shaky and your words are slurred, the teasing from both men going to your head and sending you into a frenzy. If you didn’t cum soon you think you might just have to grab your vibrator to finish the job.

 Luckily, it doesn't come to that, and your hand comes to rest on his shoulders as he finally guides his cock into you after teasing you mercilessly, the pressure of his cock finally filling you up makes your head swim and your thighs shake.

“O-oh fuck…” your voice trails off and you feel Wonwoo twitch inside of you as he finally bottoms out, a low groan filling your ears as your cunt squeezes around him like a vice. Seungcheol is losing his mind standing next to you, his own cock straining against his basketball shorts.

As you grow accustomed to Wonwoo’s size, you rotate your hips and begin the process of bouncing up and down. When his large hand comes to rest on your hips and grip tightly, you halt all motion and bring your head up to stare into Wonwoo’s lust-filled eyes.

“I didn’t say to move, did I? I just want you to sit on my lap and be a good little slut, and maybe once I’m done with my game you'll be rewarded.” His voice is short as he refocuses his attention on the game, delving right in and becoming immersed in the content.

You whimper as you clench helplessly around his cock, your fingers digging into his flesh through his shirt as he keeps you in place, despite still playing his game. You can’t even see him but you’re sure he’s smirking even while smashing the keyboard quickly.

“In the meantime, why don’t you be a good whore for me and help me out, hm?” Seungcheol’s husky voice has grown deeper and makes you clench, causing Wonwoo to chuckle. Your eyes open and you can see Seungcheol standing in front of you, thick cock in his hand pumping slowly.

As if on instinct, you open your mouth for him to place his cock inside, and you’re immediately met with the salty taste of his precum. You moan softly and start bobbing your head to take more of him in, which has his head falling back and one of his hands entangling in your hair, tugging on the strands harshly.

The sounds filling the room are lewd; the wet sounds of your mouth bobbing quickly over Seungcheol’s cock and how your cunt is still filled with Wonwoo’s cock, the occasional clench of your pussy sending a wave of arousal flooding down his cock and creating a puddle of slick on his chair. 

“Your mouth is like heaven, sweetheart, been waiting for y-years to do this,” Seungcheol praises you as his hips stutter when you deepthroat him particularly well. The grip he has on your hair is beginning to sting, but you couldn't care less when the arousal in your abdomen is beginning to grow by the second.

“Son of a bitch!”

The loud profanity has you jerking off Seungcheol’s cock abruptly and looking at Wonwoo with concern. You can hear Seungcheol groan in annoyance and move your head back to his cock, where you teasingly take the tip into your mouth and suck lightly. 

“Ya lose your game, big shot?” Seungcheol teases Wonwoo, who quickly whips his head around to stare the older down. He removes his headset and raises the middle finger to Seungcheol, who reciprocates quickly before focusing his attention back on you.

“Like you can play any better, especially with a slut in your lap.”

The degradation has you clenching around Wonwoo’s cock and moaning around Seungcheol’s, simultaneously making them throw their heads back and groan. You grin to yourself and make the effort to grind against Wonwoo and deepthroat Seungcheol before you’re pulled off both of them and shoved onto the bed.

You don’t have any time to react as they both crawl up next to you, Seungcheol now taking position between your legs and Wonwoo stroking his cock and tapping the fat head against your lips.

“Are you gonna show us just how much of a slut you can be?”

You lick your lips and spread your legs, inviting both of them to do as they please. It’s going to be a long, long night for all three of you.

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