#wry media

[wonder-worker]

"Anglo-Saxons: A History of the Beginnings of England 400-1066" by Marc Morris has single-handedly revived my interest in the Anglo-Saxons like damn

[aeralux]

"Wicked Game" - Aemond Targaryen

Sister's Boyfriend!Aemond x Reader (Modern!au)

Summary: Ever since your sister got a new boyfriend, you have been captivated by him. His long, silky silver hair and the mysterious eye patch. It's sad, truly. You know you could never have him, as they only have eyes for each other. If only he could see you in a different light than just his girlfriend's baby sister...

Warnings: SMUT 18+; rough sex; voyeurism; use of sex toys (dildos, nipple clamps, vibes etc.); infidelity; Aemond being lowkey a sadist; name calling during sex (slut); orgasm denial; oral (m! receiving); angst (in the end)

Words: 13.1k

Notes: Everything is consensual. If you do not agree with the warnings, DO NOT read. I am not responsible for the media YOU consume.

𐔌 . ⋮ aera .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

You’d been harbouring a crush on Aemond Targaryen for over a year, and honestly, it was infuriating. The universe had a cruel sense of humour, putting a man like him so close, yet so utterly out of reach. He wasn’t just your sister’s boyfriend—he was her serious boyfriend, the type you just knew she envisioned a future with. And the worst part? He was perfect for her.

Aemond wasn’t the type of guy you stumbled upon in your usual circle. Sharp-witted, devastatingly handsome, and impossibly composed, he carried himself with a confidence that drew attention the moment he entered a room. That long silver hair, always tied neatly back, and that piercing blue eye—one covered by an eyepatch that only added to his allure—made him look like he’d stepped out of some mythic tale. And you hated that you noticed it as much as you did.

The first time you met him, you were already doomed. You’d been awkward, stumbling over your words as he shook your hand at some family gathering. He was polite, of course, though his demeanour remained cool and unreadable. It only made you blush harder. Over time, your reactions to him only grew worse. Aemond, being Aemond, always seemed so unbothered—offering a kind smile here, a polite laugh there—but it didn’t seem like he ever really saw you. Not the way you wanted him to.

You tried not to let it get to you, but it did. Every time he walked through the door, greeting your sister with that subtle, affectionate smile of his, your stomach tightened. Every time his deep voice carried across the room, making some wry comment or insightful observation, you found yourself hanging onto his every word. And every time you caught a glimpse of him without your sister beside him, you let your imagination wander to places it absolutely shouldn’t.

It was humiliating. Worse than that—it was maddening.

You wanted to stop thinking about him, to shove the feelings down and pretend they didn’t exist. He was totally off-limits, the kind of forbidden crush that should’ve died as quickly as it started. But no matter how hard you tried, your stupid heart refused to let go.

And it didn’t help that your sister seemed so happy with him. She was your sister, after all, and you loved her. You’d never do anything to jeopardize what they had. That knowledge should’ve been enough to kill the fantasy altogether, but instead, it made it worse. You were stuck on the outside looking in, knowing that no matter how much you wanted him, he’d never be yours.

So, you did what you could. You tried to keep your distance, to swallow your feelings whenever they crept up, but it wasn’t easy. Whenever he was over for dinner, you saw him at family events, or your sister started gushing about how perfect he was—it grated on you. Not because you resented her happiness, but because you couldn’t stop thinking about how much you wanted him for yourself.

And you hated yourself for it.

By now, you’d started masking your crush as an annoyance—making sharp remarks here and there to cover up how flustered you got around him. You’d convince yourself that his distant politeness was a sign he thought of you as nothing more than his girlfriend’s little sister. That thought hurt more than it should, but at least it kept you grounded in reality.

You’d tried to bury the feelings. You really had.

The bass thrummed through the club like a heartbeat, the flashing lights painting the crowded dancefloor in vibrant reds and blues. You were out with your friends—Baela, Rhaena, Jacaerys, Addam, and Cregan—and for once, you weren’t holding back. This wasn’t your usual night of sipping drinks quietly at the bar. Tonight, you let yourself go, swaying to the music, laughing with your friends, and celebrating passing your exams.

Your tight black dress hugged your curves in all the right places, and your bold makeup gave you the confidence to let loose. Your hair was styled to perfection and every now and then, you caught people looking. You didn’t mind. In fact, you welcomed it. Tonight was about forgetting the stress eating at you for a month.

The energy among your friends was electric. Baela and Rhaena were dancing with you, their laughter infectious. At the same time, Jace, Addam, and Cregan stayed close, joking and moving in rhythm with the music. Cregan, always the playful one, had spun you into a twirl at one point, his hands lingering on your waist as he leaned in to say something over the pounding music. Whatever he said made you laugh, throwing your head back with a carefree grin.

What you didn’t know—what you couldn’t have known—was that Aemond was there too.

He’d come with a few colleagues for a drink after a long week, not expecting to see anyone familiar. But when he caught a glimpse of you across the room, his breath hitched in his throat.

At first, he wasn’t sure it was you. The way the dim, coloured lights illuminated your skin and the confidence in the way you moved—it was like you were a different person. But then you turned, laughing at something Jace had said, and he saw your face fully. It was you.

Aemond froze.

His drink hovered in his hand, forgotten as he watched you from across the room. He’d never seen you like this before. Always so sweet and composed at family dinners, with your shy smiles and nervous laughs. But here, under the pulsing lights, you were... different. Bold. Glowing.

The tight dress, the way it clung to your body, showed off every curve in a way that was impossible to ignore. Your makeup highlighted your features, giving you an edge he’d never associated with you before. He tried to look away—he really did—but his eye kept drifting back to you.

And then, there were the men.

Jace stood too close, his arm brushing yours as he leaned in to speak. Addam rested his hand on your back while you danced, his touch lingering just a little too long for Aemond’s liking. And Cregan—Cregan’s hands had been on your waist, and the way you’d laughed with him made Aemond’s jaw tighten.

It was irrational, he knew that. He had no claim to you. Hell, he shouldn’t even be looking at you like this. You were his girlfriend’s younger sister, for God’s sake. He’d always thought of you as a beautiful girl, sure, but nothing more. He respected you. Admired you, even, for your wit and kindness. But now...

Now, he felt something stirring in his chest that he didn’t want to admit.

Jealousy.

He took a slow sip of his drink, forcing himself to look away, to focus on the conversation happening around him. But the loud chatter of his colleagues faded into the background as his gaze betrayed him yet again. There you were, laughing and swaying to the music, completely unaware of the effect you were having on him.

It was infuriating.

The way your hips moved, the way your friends surrounded you, protective but also playful—it all drove him to distraction. He clenched his jaw, tightening his grip on his glass. This wasn’t right. He wasn’t supposed to be feeling this way.

But as he watched Jace pull you closer, his hand brushing your arm, something inside Aemond snapped.

He tore his gaze away, breathing deeply to steady himself. He couldn’t do this. He wouldn’t do this. You were off-limits, untouchable. He had to get his head straight before anyone noticed the turmoil inside him.

But no matter how hard he tried to focus on anything else, his eye kept returning to you.

The house was quiet, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning and the distant chirping of birds outside. Your parents had gone on one of their weekend camping trips, leaving the house to you, your sister, and Aemond. It wasn’t the first time he’d stayed over for a few days, but this time felt... different.

Aemond sat on the living room couch with a book in hand, though he hadn’t turned the page in what felt like hours. He wasn’t even reading—his mind was elsewhere. Or rather, his eye was.

You were in the kitchen, moving around with a casual grace that had him transfixed. You’d come downstairs earlier in shorts that hugged your legs and a fitted tank top that clung to your figure. It wasn’t an unusual outfit for a hot summer day, but to him, it might as well have been something far more provocative.

He tried to ignore it, to remind himself of who you were and why he had no right to be looking at you like this. But no matter how many times he told himself to focus on the book in his lap or the conversation your sister was trying to have with him, his eye kept straying back to you.

You leaned against the kitchen counter, scrolling on your phone, your legs crossed at the ankle. The way the sunlight streaming through the window highlighted your bare skin made his chest tighten. Was this what he’d been blind to all this time?

It wasn’t like he hadn’t noticed you before. He wasn’t a fool—he’d always known you were beautiful. But there had been a line he never allowed himself to cross. You were her sister, and that fact had always been enough to keep his thoughts in check.

Until now.

The image of you at the club last night was still burned into his mind. The way you’d looked, moved, laughed. It had unlocked something in him, something he didn’t want to acknowledge but couldn’t deny any longer. Seeing you like this—so casual, so natural—only made it worse. You didn’t have to try to captivate him; you just did.

His eye drifted down your legs again, lingering before he forced himself to look away. He shifted in his seat, adjusting the book in his lap to hide the tension building in his body. This was wrong. Completely and utterly wrong. He needed to snap out of it.

Your sister was sitting next to him, chatting about something mundane—dinner plans, or maybe a movie she wanted to watch later—but he wasn’t listening. He nodded occasionally, muttering an “Mm” or “Yeah” to feign interest, but his focus was elsewhere on you.

You moved from the counter to the fridge, opening it and bending slightly to grab something from the lower shelf. Aemond’s jaw tightened, his fingers gripping the edges of his book. He closed his eye, inhaling deeply.

This wasn’t serious, he told himself. It wasn’t anything more than a fleeting, physical reaction—an inconvenient trick of his own mind. That was all it was. He just needed to forget about it, to push these thoughts aside and focus on the woman sitting right next to him.

He glanced at your sister, forcing himself to look at her properly. She smiled at him, unaware of the storm raging inside his head. She deserved better than this. Better than a boyfriend whose thoughts were straying somewhere they had no business going.

But even as he tried to ground himself, his resolve crumbled the moment he heard your laugh from the kitchen. It was soft and melodic, and it pulled his attention like a magnet.

Aemond clenched his jaw, his frustration mounting—not at you, but at himself. He couldn’t let this continue. He wouldn’t. He had to stop looking at you, stop thinking about you like this, stop letting these dangerous thoughts worm their way into his head.

Because if he didn’t... he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop himself.

You hummed softly to yourself as you moved about the kitchen, entirely unaware of the way Aemond’s eye followed you from the couch. To you, it was just another lazy summer day. The sunlight was warm against your skin, and the cool tile beneath your bare feet felt grounding as you grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

Your thoughts were far from the man sitting in the living room. You were still replaying moments from last night—how much fun you’d had with your friends, the way the music pulsed through you, and how free you’d felt dancing without a care. A soft smile played on your lips as you leaned back against the counter, scrolling through your phone to check messages from Baela and Rhaena.

In the living room, Aemond was trying his best to act normal, but his focus kept slipping. His gaze kept drifting toward you as you opened the bottle of water, tilted your head back, and took a sip, the motion somehow more graceful than it had any right to be. His grip on the book tightened when a single bead of water escaped from the corner of your mouth, trailing down your neck before you wiped it away with the back of your hand.

And you had no idea.

You were completely oblivious to the effect you were having on him, continuing your day as though nothing had changed. You even smiled once or twice when a funny text came through from Cregan. He could hear your soft chuckles from where he sat, and it only made his chest feel tighter.

Your sister, on the other hand, wasn’t oblivious.

She’d been talking to him for a while now—something about a new show she wanted him to watch with her. But Aemond’s noncommittal responses and wandering eye hadn’t escaped her notice.

With an audible sigh, she crossed her arms over her chest, her lips pressing into a thin line.

“Aemond,” she said sharply, drawing his attention back to her.

He blinked, startled out of his daze. “Hm?”

“Are you even listening to me?” she asked, her tone tinged with irritation.

“Of course,” he replied smoothly, though the faintest flicker of guilt flashed across his face.

She raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “I’ve been talking for five minutes, and you haven’t said anything other than ‘yeah’ or ‘hmm.’ What’s going on with you today?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly, his tone calm but firm. “I’m just... distracted, that’s all.”

From the corner of your eye, you noticed the tension brewing between them, though you didn’t pay it much mind. Your sister could be dramatic sometimes, and you figured Aemond was probably just tired or preoccupied with work.

You turned your attention back to your phone, scrolling aimlessly, as they continued their conversation. Aemond gave your sister a reassuring smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eye.

“Sorry,” he said, his voice low and measured. “I’ll pay better attention.”

You glanced up briefly, watching as your sister sighed again, this time more softly. She gave him a small, forgiving smile and leaned against his shoulder, though her frustration was still evident in the way her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her shirt.

Aemond placed a hand on her knee, offering her a gesture of reassurance, but even then, his gaze flickered back to the kitchen for a fleeting second.

You didn’t catch it.

If you had, you might’ve noticed the way his eye lingered on you longer than it should have. You might’ve seen the subtle tension in his jaw or the way his grip on the book tightened whenever you moved. But you didn’t.

A few hours had passed. The house was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that pressed against your ears and made every creak of the floorboards seem louder than it should have been. Your sister had stormed out hours ago, muttering something about going to her friend’s house because Aemond was “being impossible.” She hadn’t said goodbye, slamming the door behind her as she left, leaving him alone in the house.

You weren’t there, either. You’d gone out not long after your sister, leaving Aemond to his own devices. At first, he’d relished the solitude, thinking it would give him a chance to clear his head, to wrestle his unruly thoughts back into submission. But as the hours ticked by, the stillness of the house only amplified his unease.

He tried to distract himself—reading, pacing, scrolling through his phone—but nothing worked. His thoughts kept drifting, circling back to you. The way you’d looked this morning, so effortlessly beautiful in your shorts and tank top, the sun catching on your hair as you leaned against the kitchen counter. The sound of your laugh. The way you hadn’t even seemed to notice him watching you.

Eventually, his restless wandering brought him to the hallway outside your bedroom. He hadn’t meant to stop there and hadn’t even realized where his feet had carried him until he was standing in front of your closed door.

For a moment, he just stared at it.

It would be wrong. He knew that. This was your space, your private sanctuary, and he had no business intruding. But curiosity gnawed at him, whispering in the back of his mind. What would your room be like? Would it reflect the parts of you he already knew—bright, sweet, and warm? Or would it reveal something more, something deeper that he hadn’t yet seen?

Before he could stop himself, his hand was on the doorknob.

He hesitated, his fingers brushing the cool metal as a flicker of guilt sparked in his chest. But the pull was too strong, and before he could second-guess himself, he turned the knob and stepped inside.

The scent of you hit him first—soft and delicate, with hints of vanilla and something floral. It was subtle but unmistakable, wrapping around him like a tether. He closed the door behind him, his movements slow and deliberate as he took in the space.

Your room was... you. A mix of carefully chosen decor and personal touches that spoke volumes about who you were. The bed was neatly made, a throw blanket draped over the edge. A few framed photos sat on the nightstand—one of you with Baela and Rhaena, another of you and your family on some beach vacation.

His eye caught on your desk, cluttered with notebooks, pens, and a half-empty coffee cup. There were sticky notes scattered across the surface, some with neat handwriting and others with quick, messy scrawls. He moved closer, his gaze skimming over the notes—random reminders, lists, a doodle of a little flower in the corner of one page.

Aemond’s fingers hovered over one of the notebooks, itching to pick it up, but he held back. Even in this moment of weakness, he knew he couldn’t cross that line.

Instead, his gaze drifted to your bed again. He didn’t mean to linger, but his mind betrayed him, conjuring an image of you lying there, your hair splayed across the pillow, your soft breathing filling the quiet. He clenched his fists at his sides, shaking his head as if to physically rid himself of the thought.

This was dangerous.

He shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t even be thinking about you like this. You were his girlfriend’s sister, and that fact should have been enough to keep him out of this room, out of this situation altogether. But it wasn’t. Not anymore.

Next thing he knows, he's opening your drawers. Gods, is he really this depraved? His girlfriend's younger sister. Yet here he is, looking through her stuff, closet and cupboards like a sick pervert.

But what he found in your bedside table's bottom drawer made his heart stop. Aemond's breath catches in his throat as he stares down at the contents of the drawer, his eye widening in shock and a sudden surge of desire. He can't believe what he's seeing—nearly a dozen sex toys are neatly arranged inside, from sleek vibrators to thick, veiny dildos in various shapes and sizes. Some are made of smooth silicone in soft, inviting colours, while others are harder plastic or glass, glinting under the light spilling from the hallway. Little pots of lube are tucked between the toys, the labels promising special effects and intense sensations.

Aemond swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry as the desert. He can't look away, transfixed by the erotic display before him. It's like opening Pandora's box and finding a trove of forbidden delights, each promising pleasures. The heat that had been simmering low in his belly since he first laid an eye on you in the kitchen now roars to life, his cock stiffening rapidly and straining against the confines of his jeans.

He reaches out with a slightly shaking hand, tracing the smooth curve of the largest dildo with his fingertips. It's bigger than any cock he's ever seen, the thick shaft tapering to a bulbous, textured head. The thought of you using this beast, stretching yourself around it, sends a bolt of lust straight to his groin. He'd never felt such a primal, animalistic urge before.

What he wouldn't give to bury himself inside your tight heat, to feel your walls gripping him like a vice as he fucked you into oblivion. He wants to hear you scream, to beg, to chant his name until you're hoarse. The image of you, naked and spread open for him, pleading for his cock, is seared into his mind.

But it's the vibrators that really make his mouth go dry and his cock throb insistently against his zipper. Sleek and streamlined, they're made for one purpose only—to stimulate and Tease your most sensitive spots until you're writhing and screaming in ecstasy. He pictures you using them, touching yourself in your most intimate places, and it makes him want to drop to his knees and bury his face between your thighs, to lap at your dripping cunt til you're on the verge of passing out.

Aemond's breath grows heavier as he reaches for a small, discreet vibrator, picking it up and turning it over in his hands. It's matte black and barely the size of his thumb, with a narrow tip that tapers down to a point. The thought of this little device buzzing against your sensitive clit, reducing you to a desperate, writhing mess, makes Aemond groan under his breath. He can picture it so clearly—you splayed out on your bed, legs spread wide as you tease yourself closer and closer to the edge, your body slick with sweat and arousal.

Unable to resist, Aemond presses the button and holds it against his thumb, gasping as the intense vibrations shoot up his arm. Fuck, he can only imagine how incredible that would feel against your intimate flesh, how it would make you moan and plead for more. He turns the toy off and tosses it back into the drawer, his balls aching and his cock throbbing almost painfully.

He needed you. As soon as possible. He couldn't wait any longer, and he knew that.

You pushed open the front door, the loud click echoing through the silent house. You quickly kicked off your sneakers, not bothering to aim for the shoe rack, and hurried upstairs to wash the grime off your hands. As you scrubbed your skin clean, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, a prickling sensation running down your spine.

Stepping out of the bathroom, you made your way down the hallway to your room. You pushed open the door, expecting to find the usual mess of sheets not done on the bed and books piled haphazardly on the desk. Instead, you froze in your tracks, your breath catching in your throat.

There, sitting on the edge of your bed with a wicked grin spreading across his handsome face, was Aemond. His eye, usually so cold and distant, was now burning into mine with an intensity that made your heart race. You swallowed hard, your shaky breath echoing in the sudden silence of the room.

"W-what are you doing here, Aemond?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper. You could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks, a deep blush spreading across your skin as you took in his imposing figure. He looked devastatingly handsome, his tall frame dwarfing your modest bed.

You crossed your arms over your chest instead as you waited for his response. You could feel the weight of his gaze on your body, trailing over your curves, and you suddenly wished you had worn something more than just a simple t-shirt and shorts. The way he was looking at you made you feel exposed.

Nearly trembling, you waited for his answer, your heart pounding frantically. You knew you should be wary of his intentions, but you couldn't help the flutter of anticipation that filled your belly. Being alone with Aemond like this was terrifying and exhilarating, and you found yourself wondering, not for the first time, what it would be like to feel his strong hands on your body, to have him pull you close and capture your lips with his own.

Aemond's gaze drags over your body, lingering on the curve of your breasts, the dip of your waist, the flare of your hips. He drinks in every inch of you, his eye glinting with a hunger that makes your skin prickle and your pussy drip. When his eye meets yours, it's darkened with desire, a fierce intensity that steals your breath.

"Tell me, little doe. What fun things do you have in your drawer?" He asked, his voice a low rumble. He stands slowly, his tall frame unfolding until he's towering over you, his broad shoulders blocking out the

Aemond takes a step closer to you, invading your personal space. His tall, muscular frame looms over you, making you feel small and delicate in comparison. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race wildly in your chest.

"I couldn't help but notice what you have tucked away in there," he continues, his voice a low, lust-roughened murmur. "Such... interesting toys. And I found myself curious about what a sweet little thing like you could possibly do with them."

He reaches out, his fingers brushing lightly down your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You shiver at his touch, your body responding to him in a way that thrills and terrifies you.

Aemond leans closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "Tell me, little doe, have you used them? Have you touched this sexy little body, teasing yourself in all the naughty ways you imagine I would?"

His hand slides lower, skimming over the curve of your waist and resting on the flare of your hip. He grips you possessively, pulling you a step closer to him. You can feel the hard, thick length of him pressing against your belly, and it makes your core flood with heat and desire.

"Do you think about me when you touch yourself? Do you imagine it's my hands on your body, my fingers buried deep inside your tight little cunt?" Aemond's voice is a dark, sinful purr. "Is that why you have all those toys? To imagine it's me fucking you?"

You stare at Aemond in disbelief, your eyes flashing with anger and outrage. "How dare you!" You hiss, jabbing a finger into his chest. "You can't just go snooping through my private things like that, you... you pervert!"

"You're my sister's boyfriend, for God's sake!" You continue to yell, ignoring the traitorous part of you that exhilarates at his proximity and the evidence of his desire. "You had no right to go through my stuff like that. That's a total violation of my privacy and trust!"

Despite the anger coursing through you, you can't ignore the electricity crackling between you, the way his proximity makes your heart race. You know you should step back and put distance between you, but you find yourself rooted to the spot, your body swaying closer to his as if drawn by a magnet.

"Answer me, Aemond," you demand, your voice shaking slightly as you glare up at him. "What gave you the right to invade my space like that? Are you really that big of a fucking creep?"

Aemond's smirk only grows wider at your outburst, clearly amused by your anger rather than cowed by it. He doesn't move away from you, instead leaning in even closer until you can feel his breath hot on your face.

"You're right, little doe, I shouldn't have gone through your things without permission," he admits with a shrug, not sounding particularly apologetic. "But I must say, the temptation was just too great. When I saw what you had hidden away, all those toys designed to bring pleasure to a pretty little thing like you... I couldn't resist imagining all the ways I could put them to better use."

He reaches up, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering to brush along your jawline. His touch is maddeningly gentle, a sharp contrast to the aggressive way he invaded your space.

"I've seen the way you look at me," Aemond murmurs, his voice a low, sinful purr. "The hunger in your eyes, the longing. You think I don't notice, but I do. I see how you watch me, how your gaze lingers on me... and I know you want me."

His hand slides down from your jaw to your throat, his thumb brushing your racing pulse. Your heart feels like it might beat out of your chest, your skin flushing hotter at his touch and the dark promise in his words.

"So yes, I'm a creep for snooping. But you're not exactly innocent, are you, little one?" Aemond's grin turns wicked, his eye glinting with cruel amusement. "Do you think about me when you use those toys? Have you imagined it was my big, hard cock stretching out your tight little cunt, filling you up in a way no vibrator ever could?"

He leans in even closer, his lips a hairsbreadth away from yours. You can feel the heat of him, smell the intoxicating scent of his cologne and the faint musk of arousal beneath. Your mouth goes dry as you stare at him, your body trembling with anger and desire.

You opened your mouth to deny his accusation, to rage at him for invading not just your room, but your most private thoughts... but the words stuck in your throat.

Because he was right. God help you, but every single time you brought yourself to the edge with your vibrator buzzing between my thighs, every moment you lost yourself in the throes of your own touch... You thought of him. He and the way he would take you, dominate you, make you scream and beg for more until you were hoarse.

You wanted to rage at him, to slap that smug smirk off his handsome face. You wanted to tell him he was nothing but a creep, a pervert to snoop through your things like that. But you couldn't. Because the truth was, you had wanted him from the moment he first walked into your life.

Aemond only had eyes for her, and it had driven you mad with jealousy and desire.

Now here he was, looming over you, his tall powerful frame making you feel small. You couldn't deny it, not when your body was betraying you, trembling and aching for his touch.

"No... I haven't," you muttered, hating how weak and breathless you sounded. Is this really all the restraint you had? All the strength you could muster? A single breathless denial uttered in a voice barely above a whisper?

Aemond's grin widens, his eye glinting with triumph as he sees the truth in yours. He knows he's getting to you, breaking through your defences with his assertive words and the sheer force of his presence.

"Liar," he chuckles darkly, his thumb brushing your lower lip. "I've seen the way you look at me, the hunger in your eyes. I know you want me, little doe. Just as much as I want you."

His hand slides down to the hem of your shirt, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric to brush against the soft skin of your waist. You gasp, your stomach muscles fluttering at his touch, and he grins wickedly.

"I'm going to use all these toys on you, little doe. I'm going to make you scream and beg and cry for my cock until you can no longer form a single thought."

His other hand comes up to grip your chin, forcing you to meet his intense, burning gaze. "Get on the bed, now."

Aemond's fingers tighten on your chin, his nails digging into your soft skin. "Or... you can leave, and we'll forget any of this ever happened. Which will it be?"

He steps back, his arms crossed over his broad chest, waiting for you to choose.

You feel your cheeks burning with humiliation as you reluctantly make your way to the bed, each step heavy with the weight of your shameful desire. You perch on the edge of the mattress, your hands trembling as you lay back against the plush pillows.

You gaze up at Aemond, eyes wide and brimming with unshed tears. It's mortifying, allowing your sister's boyfriend to have this kind of power over you, to reduce you to a quivering mess with just a few words and a heated glance.

Your legs quiver as you slowly spread them, a subconscious invitation that you are powerless to resist. You can feel the cool air of the room against your heated skin, and you thank the gods that he can't see the damp patch darkening the crotch of your panties through your jeans, betraying the shameful arousal he's evoking in you.

Aemond's eye darkens as he watches you reluctantly lay back on the bed, your body trembling with fear and anticipation. He can see the humiliation etched on your beautiful face, the way your cheeks are flushed a deep, rosy red. It only makes him want you more, knowing that he's the one who's reduced you to this desperate, needy state.

"Good girl," he murmurs, his voice a low, approving rumble. He reaches out and trails his fingers up your inner thigh, the light touch making you jump and gasp.

The sight makes his cock throb almost painfully in his jeans, a damp patch of pre-cum beginning to soak through the fabric. He wants nothing more than to bury himself between your thighs, to feel your wet heat gripping him like a vice as he fucks you hard and fast, claiming you as his own.

But he restrains himself, wanting to take his time with you, to make you beg for his cock before he gives it to you. A wicked grin spreads across his handsome face as he leans over you, his elbows resting on either side of your head. He's so close that you can feel his breath hot on your face, smell the intoxicating scent of his cologne and the faint musk of his arousal.

Aemond smirks as he backs off and reaches into the drawer, pulling out a large, thick dildo and a bottle of lube. He turns back to you, his eyes roaming hungrily over your body as he stalks closer to the bed.

"Let's start with this one, shall we?" he murmurs, holding up the hefty toy. It's long, girthy, tapered at the end, made of a firm but flexible silicone. He sets it down on the bed beside you before grabbing the lube bottle.

"I want you to take off your clothes," Aemond orders, his voice a low, commanding growl that sends shivers down your spine. "Slowly. Let me enjoy the show."

Your heart races as you slowly peel off your top, revealing inch after inch of soft skin. You take your time, letting the fabric drag teasingly over your sensitive flesh until your tank top falls to the floor. Next, you shimmy out of your shorts with your legs raised in the air. You can feel Aemond's intense gaze burning into you the entire time, drinking in every bit of skin you expose.

You know you should feel ashamed for being so exposed in front of your sister's boyfriend, but you can't. Not when the hunger in his eye makes you feel desired, craving his touch and his approval.

Biting your lip, you reluctantly slide your panties down your legs, leaving you bare before him. You can feel the cool air of the room against your heated flesh, making you shiver and your nipples tighten into stiff, aching peaks.

Your face flushes hotly, as you lay back on the bed, trying to cover yourself instinctively with your hands. But you force yourself to relax, to let him look his fill as he stands over you, his tall form dwarfing yours.

"Fuck, look at you," he growls, his voice rough with desire. "You're even more beautiful than I imagined."

He reaches out, dragging a single finger down the centre of your body, from the hollow of your throat, down between your breasts, over your stomach, and stopping just above your bare mound. Your skin prickles and flushes under his touch, your body reacting viscerally to his presence.

Aemond's hand drifts between your thighs, his fingers brushing against your slick folds. A low groan escapes him at the feel of you, so wet and ready. He can feel the heat radiating off your core, the evidence of your shameful arousal.

"That's it, little one," he murmurs, his fingers teasing your slit, not yet delving inside. "This is what I do to you. This is how much you want me."

He pushes a single finger inside your tight channel, pumping it slowly as he leans down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth. He suckles hard, his tongue swirling and flicking over the sensitive bud until it's stiff and aching. All the while, his finger continues to thrust into you, curling and stroking your inner walls until you're squirming beneath him.

He withdraws his finger, and you whimper at the loss, your hips rolling up in a desperate attempt to follow the warmth of his touch. But Aemond just smirks, bringing his slick finger to his lips and licking your arousal from the digit.

He nips at your earlobe before straightening up and grabbing the bottle of lube. He uncaps it and squeezes out a generous amount onto his fingers, the clear gel dripping down onto your stomach.

"Spread your legs wider for me, little doe," Aemond orders, his eye gleaming with dark promise. "I want to see all of you. I want to see that pretty cunt that's going to be stretched wide around that thick dildo of yours."

Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at the huge, girthy pink dildo in Aemond's strong hands, your heart pounding wildly in your chest.

"Aemond," you whimper, your voice small and breathless. You can feel your cheeks burning with humiliation, he must think you're some kind of depraved nymphomaniac with the sheer volume of sex toys and adult items you own. But you can't deny the shameful thrill that shoots through you at the thought of him using one of them on you, claiming you in the most intimate of ways.

You bite your lip hard, trying to stifle the needy moan that threatens to spill from your throat as you watch him slick up the thick shaft, the clear lube glistening obscenely in the light. You know Aemond is a dominant, intense lover who leaves your sister thoroughly satisfied every single time, as were her words. But now it was finally your turn. It was you who he was lusting over now.

"Shh, I will make you feel good," Aemond murmurs, a wicked glint in his eye as he watches you squirm on the bed. "I'm going to please your body until you beg me to stop..."

He takes the slick dildo and traces the flared head teasingly along your slit, coating it in your dripping arousal. The sensation makes you gasp and shudder, your hips rolling up to chase the contact. Aemond just chuckles darkly, amused by your desperate reactions.

"Look at this greedy cunt, so hungry for something to fill it," he taunts, pushing the bulbous tip just inside your entrance. He holds it there, letting you feel the stretch, the pressure as he slowly sinks the thick toy deeper and deeper into your core.

Your walls flutter and clench, adjusting to the size. You can feel every ridge, every vein and contour of the toy as it sinks deeper, until finally, with a lewd squelch, the thick base settles against your mound.

Aemond stares down at where you're now stuffed full, the dildo stretching your belly slightly and your lips puffy and slick with lube and your own arousal. His eyes blaze with a hunger that makes your core spasm around the toy.

"That's my good girl," he praises, his voice a low, sinful purr.

Your eyes flutter shut, a breathy moan escaping your lips as the thick dildo starts to move inside you. "Ohhh!" I gasp, your back arching off the bed as it stretches your walls deliciously. You can feel every ridge and vein dragging against your sensitive flesh, the sensation overwhelming in the best way possible.

He starts pumping it faster, and your mouth falls open in a silent scream, drool leaking from the corner of your lips. Your tongue lolls out as you lose yourself in the intense pleasure, and your mind starts to go blissfully blank.

"Ahhh, fuck..." you whimper, squeezing your eyes tightly shut as the toy plunges deeper, visible through your stomach. You haven't used this particular one in ages, but it feels incredible, the stretch bordering on too much but somehow just right.

Your nails dig into the sheets beneath you, gripping them for dear life as Aemond fucks you hard and fast with the thick dildo. You can feel your pussy gripping greedily around the toy, trying to hold onto it, to keep it deep inside your aching core.

"Mmm, listen to these slutty little noises spilling from your mouth," Aemond taunts, his voice a low, amused rumble. "You're loving this, aren't you? Loving the feel of that big, hard toy stretching out this greedy cunt."

He keeps fucking you hard with the toy, the obscene sound of it pounding into your soaked cunt filling the room. His other hand comes down to your breast, kneading the soft flesh roughly as he pinches and tugs at your nipple.

"So fucking sexy," he murmurs, licking his lips as he stares down at you writhing on the bed. He reaches over to the drawer, grabbing a small vibrator. He pulls the dildo out of your dripping pussy with a wet plop, leaving you empty and aching.

Aemond turns the vibrator on, the buzz filling the room as he brings it down to your sensitive, swollen clit. He circles the sensitive nub with the toy, the intense stimulation making your back arch clean off the bed.

You cry out as the vibrator assaults your over-sensitive clit. Pleasure shoots through you like lightning, teasing you to the brink of ecstasy. "You're... ahhhh! You're torturing me!" you gasp. Tears of overwhelmed sensation prick at the corners of your eyes as they squeeze shut.

Aemond smirks wickedly, amused by your desperate cries and the way your body writhes beneath his ministrations. He increases the intensity of the vibrations against your clit, watching with sadistic glee as your pussy clenches and flutters around nothing, aching for something to grip onto.

"Torture is such a strong word," he purrs, his voice a low, sinful rumble. "I prefer to think of it as... worship."

Aemond grins wickedly, enjoying the power he holds over you. "Don't you dare come until I allow it," he commands, his voice a dark, dominant growl. He leans close, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "Not until I say so. Understand?"

"Please, I can't-!" you sob, your back arching almost painfully as you try in vain to buck the vibrator away. But Aemond is too strong, pinning your hips down as he holds the toy mercilessly against your throbbing clit. The pleasure is exquisite agony, pushing you to the brink of what you can withstand.

Aemond smirks cruelly, enjoying the way you thrash and sob beneath him, your cries like music to his ears. He can see the desperation in your eyes, the way your body trembles and shakes as you teeter on the edge of climax. But he doesn't relent, determined to push you further, to make you beg for the release he's denying you.

"Not yet," he growls, his voice rough with dominance. He grabs your chin roughly, forcing you to meet his intense, burning gaze. "You don't get to come until I say so, little one. You're going to hold it together for me, no matter how much it hurts."

To punctuate his words, he increases the vibration of the toy, the buzzing noise growing louder as he grinds it harder against your sensitive clit. Your vision blurs, tears streaming down your face, but Aemond doesn't stop. He keeps the vibrator pressed against you, watching as your body writhes and bucks beneath him.

Aemond leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. The heat of his breath mingles with the cold sting of your tears, making you shiver. "Beg," he whispers, his voice low and dark.

"P-Pl-," you manage to choke out between gasps and sobs, your nails digging into Aemond's muscular forearms as you cling to him for dear life. "Please, I can't... I'm going to..." You can feel your clit pulsing almost violently, your juices leaking out of you to stain the sheets beneath your quivering body.

You're teetering on the edge, but you know you can't come without his permission. "Aemond," you whimper, staring at him with pleading, hazy eyes. "Please, I need... I need..." you can't even finish your sentence, too consumed by the overwhelming sensations to form coherent words. You can only pray that he'll grant you the release you so desperately crave.

Aemond's eye glints with cruel amusement as he watches you struggle to hold back your impending climax, your body trembling and shaking with the effort. He can see the desperation etched on your beautiful face, hear it in your choked pleas, and it fills him with a dark sense of satisfaction.

He grinds the vibrator harder against your throbbing, swollen clit, the intense stimulation bordering on pain. Your pussy clenches and flutters wildly around nothing, aching to be filled, to be fucked hard and deep until you scream.

"No." He says with a wicked smirk.

He pulls the vibrator away from your aching cunt, leaving you empty and wanting. Your wail of protest turns into a high-pitched keen as the cool air hits your soaked, swollen folds. Aemond chuckles wickedly, enjoying the sight of you suffering.

He sets the vibrator aside and reaches into the drawer, rummaging through the various toys and implements. His eye gleams with cruel delight as he selects a few choice items, eager to put them to use on your helpless, over-stimulated body.

Turning back to you, Aemond holds up a textured G-spot stimulator and a set of black nipple clamps connected by a metal chain. A vicious smile plays at the corners of his mouth as he stares down at your trembling form.

"Looks like we have quite the collection here," he muses, tapping the toys against his palm. "I'm going to greatly enjoy... using every one of these." His voice drips with dark promise, sending shivers of mingled fear and anticipation down your spine.

You blink up at Aemond with wide, startled eyes, your heart pounding wildly in your heaving chest, looking like a wounded puppy, trembling and mewling for the mercy of your tormentor.

A fresh wave of panic and trepidation washes over you. You've only dared to use those wicked clamps on yourself once before, a secret sin you've kept hidden away, ashamed of your own desires. Now, here you are, laid bare before your sister's boyfriend, helpless and aching for his touch and dominance.

You know you should protest, should demand that he stop this depraved torment... but you can't. You can only feel perverted excitement.

Aemond smirks cruelly, enjoying the look of fearful anticipation on your face. Leaning down, Aemond takes one of your nipples between his teeth, biting down hard enough to make you yelp. He soothes the sting with his tongue, circling the abused bud before pulling back with a wicked grin.

He opens one of the clamps and fastens it around your nipple. He does the same to the other until your nipples are both trapped in the cruel vice, the cold chain between them dangling invitingly on your stomach.

Aemond tugs sharply on the chain, watching as you push out your breasts and cry out at the sudden burst of pleasure-pain.

He leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "I'm going to give you the pleasure you crave, little one. But you're going to have to earn it." His voice is low and dark, dripping with cruel promise.

Aemond reaches for the pink dildo from earlier. He rubs the head teasingly along your slit, coating it in your dripping arousal. "I want you to fuck yourself with this toy, nice and slow. Nice and deep," he orders, his voice a low growl. "And if you do a good job, maybe I'll let you come."

You take the thick pink dildo from Aemond's strong hands, your fingers trembling as they wrap around the girthy shaft. You can't help but let out a shaky sigh as you tease the bulbous head along your dripping slit, your eyes fluttering shut at the first touch of something solid against your aching, empty core.

Slowly, you start to sink the toy into your greedy cunt, biting your lip to stifle a moan as it stretches you open. You roll your hips, pushing it deeper, inch by inch disappearing inside you. Your head falls back as you lose yourself in the sensation.

"Fuuuuck," you breathe out, your voice a needy whimper. You start to move the dildo in and out, taking it slow and deep, just like Aemond ordered. Each thrust makes you gasp, your walls clenching greedily around the invading toy.

You look up at Aemond through your lashes, your eyes glossy.

"I do this every time you visit," you confess, your cheeks flushing pink. "I go to my room and fuck myself stupid with my toys, thinking it's you who's splitting me open, making me scream. I cream all over my sheets, wishing it was your cock buried deep inside me."

You keep fucking yourself with the dildo, angling it just right to hit that perfect spot inside you. Your tits bounce with each thrust, the clamps on your nipples moving with them enticingly. "Please, Aemond," you whine needily, "I want your cock so badly. I want you to fuck me until I can't walk straight until all I can do is drool and moan your name. Please, let me be your fucktoy..."

Aemond's eye darkens with lust at your confession, his cock throbbing almost painfully against the confines of his jeans. He can't believe the dirty, depraved things spilling from your lips, the way you openly admit to fucking yourself stupid, wishing it was him splitting you open, claiming your needy cunt.

He leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he growls, "Fuck, you're such a dirty little girl, aren't you? I bet you'd let me do anything I wanted to this greedy body. Wouldn't you, hm?"

Aemond reaches down, grabbing the dildo as it plunges into your sopping wet cunt, spearing you open and making you cry out. He takes over, fucking you hard and fast with the thick toy, the obscene sound of it pounding into your dripping pussy filling the room.

"Louder," Aemond demands, slamming the toy even deeper. "I want to hear you scream for my cock, you shameless little whore. Let the whole neighbourhood know what a desperate slut you are for me."

He leans down, taking the metal chain between his teeth. He bites down, making you scream as he tugs sharply on it.

Broken moans and gasps are all you can manage as Aemond relentlessly pounds the pink plastic into your dripping, aching pussy. Your mind has gone completely blank, focused solely on the desperate, all-consuming need to feel his hard, throbbing cock filling you.

You can't form a coherent thought beyond my animalistic craving. The world has narrowed down to the exquisite agony of the clamps biting into your tender nipples, the obscene slap of plastic against your soaked folds, and the dark, dominant presence of the man wielding them.

Aemond's eye gleams with sadistic lust as he watches your pleasure climb, pushing you closer and closer to the edge of climax. He can see the desperation in your glassy, unfocused gaze, hear it in your broken, slutty moans. He knows he has you exactly where he wants you, teetering on the knife's edge of ecstasy, begging to be fucked stupid by his cock.

He leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "Beg me for it, slut. Beg me to fuck this needy cunt like the desperate little girl you are." Aemond punctuates his words with a sharp thrust of the dildo, grinding it against your throbbing G-spot.

"Please, please fuck me!" You sob, your hips bucking wildly against the toy, chasing your rapidly approaching climax. "I need your cock so badly, Aemond. I'm so fucking close. Please, please let me come on your cock. I want you to ruin me, fucking destroy me until I'm a drooling, cock-drunk mess. Please, I'm begging you! I can't fucking take this anymore."

You can feel your pussy clenching and fluttering wildly around the thick shaft, splitting you open. But you know you can't come without Aemond's permission.

Aemond smirks cruelly, amused by your desperate, sobbing pleas. He can feel your greedy cunt clenching and fluttering around the dildo, your body trembling on the precipice of climax. But he's not ready to let you come just yet. Not until he's fully satisfied his own dark desires.

He pulls the toy out of your dripping pussy with a wet squelch, leaving you empty and aching. You wail and cry in protest, your cunt feeling abused and unsatisfied. Aemond chuckles wickedly, enjoying the sight of you suffering.

"You want to come, little slut?" Aemond purrs, his voice a dark, dominant rumble. "Then beg me properly. On your knees, hands behind your back, and put that filthy mouth to good use." He gestures to his straining erection, the thick outline of his cock clearly visible through his jeans.

You scramble off the bed, your heart pounding in anticipation as you kneel submissively before Aemond. You sit back on your heels, hands clasped behind your back just as he ordered, the picture of obedient eagerness.

Aemond lounges on the bed, the smug smile playing at the corners of his mouth, making your core clench with desire. You watch, hardly daring to breathe, as his hand unzips his jeans. Your eyes widen as his thick, hard cock springs free, the sight of it making your mouth water and your pussy throb.

"Please, Aemond," you breathe, your voice trembling with desperation. "Please let me worship your cock. I need to taste you. I promise I'll be a good girl, a perfect little cocksleeve for you to use however you want. Please let me show you how badly I want to please you." Even you were surprised by the filthy words spilling from your mouth, guys your own age could never get you to act like this, though they desperately tried to.

He reaches out, fisting his hand in your hair and forcing you to look up at him. "That's it, my dirty little slut," he purrs, his voice dripping with cruel amusement. "Now put that filthy tongue to work and show me what a good little cocksucker you can be."

Aemond's fingers tighten in your hair as he slowly, teasingly drags his cock over your parted lips, leaving a trail of precum that makes your mouth water with desire. He can see the way your chest heaves with each ragged breath, your nipples straining against the cruel clamps, your pussy dripping with need.

You gaze up at Aemond with wide, pleading eyes, your heart fluttering wildly in your chest. Opening your mouth wide, you extend your tongue, offering yourself for his use. You desperately need to prove to him that you can be an even better girl than your sister, that you can please and satisfy him in ways she never could.

"Fuck, look at you. Practically gagging for it, aren't you?" Aemond growls, fisting your hair tighter as he slowly, teasingly drags the swollen head of his cock over your extended tongue. He smears the leaking precum over your taste buds, letting you savour the salty, musky flavour of his arousal.

Aemond tugs your head forward, forcing your mouth open wider as he pushes the thick length of his dick past your lips. He holds you there, letting you adjust to the sudden intrusion as your jaw stretches wide around his girth.

"That's it, slut. Take it all," Aemond snarls, slowly thrusting deeper until your nose presses against his pelvis and your lips stretch obscenely around his thick shaft. He holds you there, forcing you to breathe through your nose as he grinds his hips against your face, painting your throat with his musky scent.

"That's my good little girl," he praises, his voice a dark, dominant rumble. "Now start sucking, and don't you dare use your teeth. I want to feel that filthy tongue working for every inch of my dick."

You hollow your cheeks, sucking him with desperate enthusiasm as you swirl your tongue along the underside of his shaft. Each time your head bobs down, you make sure to brush your tongue teasingly across his heavy, cum-filled sack. The filthy slurping noises and occasional gags fill the room.

Your eyes water as you struggle to take his immense size, but you don't let up. Drool trickles down your chin messily as you cherish every thick, throbbing inch of Aemond's dick with single-minded focus.

"That's my perfect little cocksleeve," he praises. "Such a good girl, choking on my dick."

He can feel every swirl and flick of your tongue, the desperate way you worship his shaft like your life depends on it. He starts to thrust into your mouth, fucking your face with deep, powerful strokes. His heavy balls slap obscenely against your chin with each pump of his hips, leaving your skin flushed and sticky with your own drool.

"That's it, take my cock like the greedy slut you are," Aemond snarls, his fingers tightening in your hair as he sets a brutal pace. "Fuck, your sister could never take it this deep. You're a natural-born cocksucker, aren't you?"

Aemond yanks your head back by the hair, pulling you off his spit-soaked dick with a wet pop. Strings of drool connect your swollen, well-used lips to his throbbing shaft. He smirks down at you, taking in the debauched sight of your glazed eyes, flushed cheeks, and the way your tits heave with each panting breath.

"Good girl," he praises darkly, rubbing the leaking head of his cock over your messy face, smearing his precum across your cheekbones like some sick war paint.

You choke and sputter as Aemond wrenches you off his throbbing shaft, gasping desperately for air. Tears and mascara streak your flushed cheeks while your chin and chest glisten with drool. You look up at him through hazy, half-lidded eyes, your voice hoarse from the thorough face-fucking he just gave you.

"T-thank you," you rasp out, your lower lip trembling slightly as you try to catch your breath. "Thank you for using my mouth as it was meant to be used... and for seeing the difference between me and my sister. I promise I'll always be a better girl for you, Aemond. Your perfect little cocksucker."

Aemond smirks down at you, taking in the debauched sight of your tear-stained, spit-smeared face. He can see the desperation and hunger in your glazed eyes, the way you gaze up at him like he's your entire world. And he knows he has you exactly where he wants you - addicted to his cock, craving his approval, and willing to do anything to be his perfect little fucktoy.

"Such a good girl," he purrs, petting your hair almost affectionately. "You've got quite the talented little mouth on you. I think I'll have to put it to good use more often."

Aemond reaches down, grabbing your chin roughly and forcing you to meet his intense, burning gaze. "And don't worry about your sister. She could never compare to you, baby. You're one of a kind, a natural-born slut for cock."

You gaze up at Aemond with adoring eyes, your heart fluttering wildly in your chest as he praises you. His perverted words make you feel cherished, and desired, in a twisted way. You can't help but blush prettily at the compliment.

"Does that mean you're going to fuck me now?" You breathe out, the desperate words slipping past your swollen lips before you can stop them. "Please... I need it. Please."

Aemond smirks wickedly as he hears your desperate plea, amused by your shameless begging. He can see the way your tits heave with each panting breath, your nipples straining against the cruel clamps. The evidence of your arousal is clear - your pussy is dripping and aching, your hips squirming with need.

"You want to get fucked?" Aemond murmurs, his voice a dark rumble. "Get on the bed. Upper body off the bed," he commands, leaving no room for argument.

Aemond watches with sadistic amusement as you scramble to obey, your trembling body quickly taking its place on the bed, upper body dangling helplessly. Your hair falls in a tousled mess across the floor. The position leaves your cunt open and exposed on a lewd display. Your heart pounds wildly against your ribs as anticipation coils tightly in your stomach.

He can see your little slit glistening, just begging to be fucked hard and deep. The anticipation is killing him, but he wants to draw this out, to make you suffer with desire before he finally gives you what you want.

Leaning down, Aemond drags his cockhead up your slit, collecting your dripping arousal. He teases your entrance, pushing just the tip inside before pulling back out. Over and over, he repeats this maddening process, letting you feel the shape and size of his cock, but denying you the deep, hard thrusts you crave.

You sob out in desperation, your body shaking uncontrollably, as he teases you mercilessly. "N-no, please, Aemond! Stop, I can't take it anymore!" Tears sting your eyes and stream down your cheeks.

Every brush of his thick cock against your aching, swollen slit sends lightning bolts of pleasure shooting through you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You've never been this sensitive, this wound up, before. The constant denial has left your nerve endings raw and exposed, craving release.

You can feel your orgasm building at an alarming rate just from his maddening teasing, your pussy clenching and fluttering wildly around nothing. If he doesn't stop, you swear you'll cum just from this alone, the shame of it only adding to your desperate arousal.

Aemond smirks cruelly, amused by your tearful pleas and the way your body writhes beneath his teasing touch. He can feel your cunt clenching around nothing, desperate for his cock, and it fills him with a sadistic sense of power.

"Stop? Oh no, baby," he purrs, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "We're just getting started."

He reaches over to the bedside table, grabbing the thick g-spot vibrator he showed you earlier. A wicked grin spreads across his face as he runs the textured tip along your dripping slit, coating it in your essence.

"This feels good, doesn't it? The way it rubs against your desperate little clit, making you shake and moan?" Aemond murmurs, circling the sensitive bud with the toy. "I'm going to use this on you next time, forcing you to cum over and over again while I watch. But for now..."

Aemond trails the vibrator up your body, brushing it over your sensitive nipples, making you gasp and writhe. He smirks as he smears it across your face, painting your cheeks and chin with your juices.

"I think it's time I fucked this needy cunt properly."

You gasped as he pushed you even further off the edge of the bed now, your heart pounding wildly in my chest as you felt like you might tumble to the floor at any moment. You hold your breath, trembling like crazy as Aemond looms over you, kneeling between my splayed thighs, gripping them tight against his body.

He's taking his sweet time, enjoying the sight of you, all vulnerable and aching for his touch.

You whimper softly, squeezing your eyes shut as you try to be brave. You want to be a good girl for him. How much you need him to ruin your fuckhole, to claim you so thoroughly that you'll be forever changed.

Aemond takes his time, drinking in the debauched sight of you trembling and aching for his touch. He grips your thighs tighter, fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he pushes them further apart, exposing you completely to his hungry gaze.

He can see your little hole clenching around nothing, drooling with desperation, and it makes his cock jump with the need to be buried inside you.

Leaning down, Aemond drags the head of his cock along your slit, teasing your entrance with the promise of finally filling you. He smirks as he feels you shudder against him, knowing you're seconds away from coming undone.

Without warning, he slams forward, burying his thick cock to the hilt in one brutal thrust. Your scream of pleasure and pain mixes with the obscene squelch of your pussy being split open, your hungry pussy clenching down on his invading shaft.

He doesn't give you time to adjust and starts pounding into you with deep, powerful strokes that rock your entire body.

Your screams fill the air as Aemond ruts into you like a wild beast possessed, each powerful thrust shaking your body to its core. You feel like a helpless ragdoll being tossed about by his relentless pace. Waves of intense pleasure radiate through your nerves, pushing you shockingly close to that edge you've been teetering on.

"Oh god, Aemond!" you cry out, your voice raw and breathless from the brutal fucking. "I'm... I'm going to cum!" Tears prick the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming sensation of his thick cock finally pounding mercilessly into your tight, dripping cunt. You can feel yourself starting to gush around his pistoning shaft, your pussy clenching down on him as your orgasm builds.

Aemond lets out a dark chuckle, amused by your desperate, tearful confession. "Cumming already, baby? I haven't even really started yet," he taunts, punctuating his words with a sharp, brutal thrust. The head of his cock slams into your cervix, making you scream, your pussy clenching down hard in response.

He smirks wickedly at the feeling of your velvet walls gripping him like a silken vice. "Such a needy little cocksleeve, so hungry for my dick. I bet you'll cum a dozen times before I'm done with you."

You're sobbing now, tears streaming back into your hair as you lay upside down, utterly impaled on Aemond's massive, pulsing cock. "I-I'm so s-sorry," you choke out between haggard breaths, voice raw and wrecked. "Your cock...it f-feels...oh god...s-so good inside me!"

You can feel your climax building, your pussy clenching and fluttering wildly around his pistoning shaft. "I-I've wanted...haahh...your cock...for s-so long, Aemond," you confess shamelessly, too lost in ecstasy to care how desperate you sound. "Please...please let me cum...I need it...I need you...so badly!" You're voice rises in pitch, the words dissolving into a wail of pure, unadulterated bliss as you teeter on the brink of a mind-blowing orgasm.

Aemond grins wickedly as he feels your pussy spasming uncontrollably around his plunging cock, your tearful pleas music to his ears. He loves the way you beg and sob, completely unravelled and at the mercy of his merciless fucking.

"Do it then, you dirty girl," he growls, slamming into you with brutal force. "Cum all over my dick like the desperate slut you are. Show me what a cock-drunk whore you really are."

You screamed in ecstasy as your orgasm crashed over you, your pussy clamping down on Aemond's pistoning cock like a vice. Cream gushed out of you, flooding his shaft and dripping down onto the sheets as you trembled and convulsed.

"Ahh!" you wailed, tears of pure pleasure streaming down your face as he fucked you ruthlessly through your high. Your body shook and quaked as you surrendered completely to the mind-blowing sensations consuming you.

"Aemond!" You cried out, your voice raw and wrecked. "Oh god, yes! Don't stop, please don't stop!" Now you knew that only Aemond could make you feel this way, could fuck you with such brutal intensity that you forgot your own name.

Aemond grins wickedly, as he feels your pussy spasm and clench around him, your juices gushing out and coating his pistoning shaft. He doesn't let up, fucking you ruthlessly through your intense orgasm, determined to draw out your pleasure and make you shake apart on his cock.

His hand comes down to roughly grope and squeeze your tits, fingers sinking into the soft flesh. He tugs and pulls at the cruel clamps, twisting them slightly and making you whimper and cry out at the bolts of pain and pleasure that shoot through you.

"That's it, baby. Scream for me," Aemond growls, his hips never faltering in their brutal pace. "Let everyone know who this cunt belongs to now. Who fucks you better than anyone else."

Your body trembles uncontrollably as the intense pleasure turns into overstimulation. You whimper and squirm beneath Aemond, instinctively trying to push his muscular thighs away with your hands, but it's futile. Your fingers scrabble against the floor, seeking purchase, but there's nowhere to go. You're trapped, a prisoner to his relentless thrusts.

"Ahhh, Aemond, please! It's...it's too much! I can't...ahhh!"

You can feel every ridge and vein of his throbbing shaft as he pistons in and out of your fluttering, over-sensitive pussy. The wet, obscene sounds of your coupling fill your ears, making you blush hotly, even as you tremble on the edge of another climax.

"Please, Aemond, I...I can't take anymore. You're going to...ahhh...make me cum again!" The words spill from your lips in breathless, broken gasps as your body betrays your impending orgasm.

He reaches over to the bedside table, grabbing the small, powerful vibrator. Your eyes widen in shock as he presses the buzzing toy against your sensitive, swollen clit. The intense vibrations send electricity coursing through your overstimulated body, pushing you right to the razor's edge of another mind-blowing orgasm.

"Oh god, Aemond!" you wail, thrashing your head from side to side as the pleasure becomes almost too much to bear. Tears stream down your face, your skin flushed and glistening with a sheen of sweat as you tremble and quake beneath him.

Aemond grits his teeth, a low groan escaping his lips as he feels his balls tighten, his own release fast approaching. He grinds the vibrator hard against your clit, the intense stimulation pushing you both to the brink.

Aemond's hips start to stutter, his powerful thrusts becoming erratic as he chases his own pleasure. The sight of you coming undone beneath him, tears streaming down your face, and your pussy clenching desperately around his cock, is almost enough to push him over the edge.

"Fuck, I'm going to...cum..." Aemond grits out through clenched teeth, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. He wants to prolong this moment.

You let out a guttural scream, your back arching off the bed as another orgasm rips through you. "Ffffuck!" You cry out, your hips bucking wildly against Aemond's. Your clit throbs almost unbearably, the vibrator's relentless buzz pushing you past the point of no return.

"Cum on me!" You moan without thinking. "I wanna be covered in your seed!"

Aemond tosses the vibrator aside, both of you panting and shaking with pleasure. He grips your hips tightly, slamming into you one last time before pulling out abruptly. You feel empty, aching for his touch, as he stands up and towers over your trembling form.

With a low, guttural groan, Aemond starts stroking his throbbing shaft. His eyes rove hungrily over your cum-splattered body as he brings himself to a shuddering climax. Thick, hot ropes of his seed erupt from the swollen head of his cock, painting your stomach, tits and pussy in a lewd display of his pleasure.

"Fuck," Aemond growls, squeezing the last drops of cum from his shaft and smearing them across your lower lips. "Look at you, covered in my spunk, so fucking gorgeous. You were made for this, made to be my personal fucktoy."

You shudder, and your body convulses as Aemond lifts you onto the bed and carefully takes off the clamps, his strong arms enveloping you. He cradles you close, one hand gently caressing your hair, still damp with sweat and tears of ecstasy. You nuzzle into his touch, savouring the intimacy of the moment.

Your heart races as you gaze up at Aemond's handsome face, taking in the satisfied smirk on his lips. You can feel his seed, hot and sticky, painting your skin in a lewd display of your passion. The sensation makes you shiver with lingering pleasure.

"Aemond," you whisper breathlessly, your voice hoarse from screaming his name. Your eyes, still glistening with tears, meet his intense gaze. "Thank you," you mutter absentmindedly.

You press yourself closer to his muscular chest, relishing the feel of his strong arms around you. Fearing that soon this would be all over and he would eventually return to your sister.

Aemond's smirk softens into a gentle smile as he gazes down at your blissed-out, fucked stupid expression. He brushes a few damp strands of hair from your face, tucking them tenderly behind your ear. His calloused fingers linger, tracing the delicate line of your jaw.

He holds you close, his touch surprisingly tender, given the brutal passion of moments before. He gazes down at your face, taking in the way his seed clings to your flushed skin, marking you as his.

Aemond's eyes darken as he thinks about returning to his girlfriend, to a life that feels hollow compared to the intensity of this moment.

"You did so well, baby," he murmurs, his fingers playing idly with your hair. "Such a good girl, taking my cock like you were made for it." He leans down, capturing your lips in a deep, possessive kiss.

Breaking the kiss, Aemond rests his forehead against yours, his intense blue eye boring into yours. "Don't think this changes anything," he warns, his voice a low rumble. "You're still just the younger sister. A dirty little secret I can't resist fucking."

Your stomach drops as Aemond's harsh words sink in, his cruel reminder of your place in his life. You feel like you've been dunked in ice water, the euphoria of moments ago evaporating instantly. You bite your lip harshly to stop it from trembling, blinking rapidly against the sudden sting of tears.

Stupid, stupid girl, you scold yourself silently. Did you really think a few mind-blowing orgasms would change anything? That he would choose you, want you, over her?

You can feel the tears threatening to spill over, so you quickly look away, not wanting him to see the heartbreak across your face. You curl in on yourself slightly, wrapping your arms around your middle as if trying to hold the shattered pieces of your hopes together.

"Y-yes, I know exactly what I am," you whisper, your voice cracking slightly. There's a bitter edge to your words, a mix of pain and resentment. "I'm just the sister. A convenient hole for you to use when you need a quick fuck."

You feel dirty, used, and utterly miserable. But most of all, you feel foolish for letting yourself believe, even for a moment, that you could ever be anything more to him than a dirty little secret.

Aemond's gaze turns cold as he takes in your shattered expression, a flicker of guilt flashing across his handsome features before being quickly suppressed. He sees the tears you're holding back, the way your shoulders curl inwards as if trying to protect yourself from further hurt.

He knows his words were harsh, cruel even, but he can't bring himself to take them back. He won't give you false hope, won't lead you on only to abandon you when he grows tired of this twisted game.

Aemond reaches out, tilting your chin to force you to meet his gaze. His thumb brushes across your lower lip, catching the tear that slips free.

"You're a smart girl," he murmurs, his voice low and serious. "You know this can't be anything more than what it is. I have a life, responsibilities, and a future that doesn't include you."

Your heart clenches painfully in your chest as Aemond's cruel words sink in, each one feeling like a dagger twisting in your heart. You're stunned into silence for a moment, staring up at him with wide, disbelieving eyes that shimmer with unshed tears.

How could he be so callous, so heartless? You think bitterly.

You take a deep, shuddering breath, trying to stem the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm me. As you exhale slowly, you feel something shift inside you - a flicker of anger sparking to life amidst the pain and heartache.

"Get out," you say coldly, your voice steady and clear despite the turmoil inside you.

He hesitates for a moment, studying your face intently, trying to discern if this is just another manipulation tactic. When he sees the unyielding determination in your eyes, the set of your jaw, he realizes you're serious.

A flicker of anger sparks in Aemond's eyes, annoyed that you would dare to tell him what to do. He's not used to being ordered around, especially not by his girlfriend's sister. Part of him wants to grab you, to shake you, to remind you of your place.

But another part of him, a part he rarely acknowledges, feels a pang of...regret? No, surely not guilt. He won't allow himself to feel guilty. He hasn't done anything wrong.

Aemond rises from the bed, his muscular body unfolding with a fluid grace. He doesn't bother to dress, standing before you bare and unashamed, like Adam before Eve.

"Fine," he says coolly, his voice tight with barely restrained anger and something else he can't quite identify. "If that's what you want."

tags 🏷️

@bey0nd-1he-stars @summerposie

[dollishmehrayan]

# “ME AND MY HUSBAND WE’RE STICKING TOGETHER.” ── .✦ ( this just a brainrot drabble of bruce wayne && mrs. wayne because I’m obsessed with this mini series ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ )

a/n: i love infecting this type of brain-rot into you guys omg like genuinely it’s a slight problem i have to stop for a while because it GETS to a point😭😭, anywayss here i guess 🧍🏻‍♀️tags: (bruce wayne x fem!reader/batmom)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

The lights of Gotham’s grandest ballroom sparkled like stars fallen to earth, casting an ethereal glow over the sea of designer gowns, sharp suits, and dazzling jewelry. The annual Wayne Foundation Gala was in full swing, a spectacle of wealth and power that captured the city’s fascination every year. Reporters lined the velvet ropes outside, cameras flashing as Gotham’s elite ascended the marble steps of the historic venue.

But tonight, all eyes were on you and Bruce Wayne.

When the two of you arrived, the murmur of the crowd outside turned into a roar. The whispers started almost immediately, a ripple of surprise and intrigue as the media scrambled to capture every angle of your entrance.

You walked beside Bruce, your hand resting lightly on his arm. Your gown a masterpiece in midnight blue satin clung to your frame with an elegance that seemed almost otherworldly, the fabric shimmering faintly under the streetlights. The diamond earrings you wore caught the light with every step, but it was the confidence in your stride and the warmth in your expression that truly captivated the crowd.

Bruce, ever the enigma, looked every bit the part of Gotham’s most eligible billionaire and bachelor. His tailored black suit was immaculate, and his usually reserved demeanor seemed to soften when he looked at you. It was a subtle thing the way his gaze lingered on you as you ascended the stairs, the faint smile tugging at his lips—but the cameras caught it all.

The tabloids were going to have a field day.

Inside the ballroom, the air was heavy with the scent of fresh roses and expensive champagne. Crystal chandeliers hung high above, their light refracting in a kaleidoscope of colors across the polished floors. Bruce guided you through the throng of guests, his hand firm at the small of your back, as if silently promising to shield you from the inevitable onslaught of questions.

And they came, as they always did.

The whispers were relentless as you mingled, weaving through the crowd like threads in a tapestry. Who was she? Where had she come from? How long had she and Bruce been together? Speculation about your background and your relationship with Gotham’s most elusive bachelor flooded the room.

“She’s stunning,” someone murmured behind a raised champagne flute.

“But where did she come from? She’s not one of the usual socialites,” another voice responded, tinged with curiosity.

Bruce ignored the comments with his usual stoic grace, but you couldn’t help catching fragments of the conversations as you moved through the room. You were used to the scrutiny, though. Being with Bruce meant living under a microscope, and while the attention could be suffocating, you’d learned to wear it like armor.

“Smile,” Bruce whispered into your ear as the two of you paused near a towering floral arrangement. His voice was low and teasing, but there was a hint of concern in his eyes. “You’re doing great, make sure to keep your eyes focused on the camera’s slightly.

You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, offering him a wry smile. “I wasn’t aware I was being graded.”

He laughed softly, his fingers brushing against yours in a fleeting gesture of reassurance. “You’re acing it.”, “really? Am i bruce??”

── .✦

Despite the intensity of the evening, Bruce never strayed far from your side. His presence was a constant, grounding you amid the whirlwind of flashing cameras and probing questions. Every time a journalist approached, Bruce would deftly redirect the conversation, shielding you from anything too invasive.

But the media frenzy outside was relentless. The headlines were already being written:

"Bruce Wayne’s Mystery Date Stuns at the Wayne Gala"

"Who is Gotham’s New It Girl?"

"A Love Story in the Making? Inside Bruce Wayne’s Relationship with (your name) Wayne"

As the night wore on, you found yourself on the balcony, stealing a moment of quiet away from the crowd. The cold air bit at your skin, but the solitude was worth it. Bruce joined you moments later, his jacket draped over his arm. Without a word, he slipped it around your shoulders, the warmth of the fabric a welcome relief from the chill, you weren’t gonna lie you got why every celebrity seemed to ‘hate’ paparazzi && fame.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice soft in the quiet.

You nodded, your gaze fixed on the city skyline. “Just needed a breather. It’s… a lot.”

He leaned against the railing beside you, his expression thoughtful. “They’ll talk. They always do. But none of it matters.”

You turned to face him, your lips curving into a small smile. “I know. It’s just… overwhelming sometimes, not used to this kind of attention..”

Bruce reached out, his fingers brushing against yours before wrapping them in his warm grip. “You don’t have to face it alone,” he said, his voice firm but tender. “Not tonight. Not ever.”

For a moment, the rest of the world faded away. It was just the two of you, standing under the Gotham sky, the distant hum of the gala forgotten. And as Bruce pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, you realized that no headline, no rumor, no amount of scrutiny could ever overshadow the quiet, steadfast connection you shared.

Inside, the gala continued, the music and laughter spilling out into the night. But out on the balcony, you and Bruce found something far more valuable peace, however fleeting, in each other’s company.

[alittlebitofsainz]

- he kissed me right in front of my friends -

prompt: “i threw a party, he kissed me right in front of my friends, i felt so far from the cliffs.”

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: if you could have one birthday wish granted, it would be that you no longer had to hide your relationship.

a/n: lyrics from track #89 there it goes by maisie peters :)

masterlist | the spotify wrapped collection

“hey, happy birthday baby!”

you couldn’t help but let your lips curve into a soft smile as lando pressed a kiss to your cheek, holding out a bag full of presents as he stepped inside your apartment. you accepted it graciously, eyes wide at the sheer number of gifts.

“lan, you really didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to.” he cut you off with a shake of his head, “for my special girl.”

he leaned forward to press a kiss to your lips, but you quickly batted him away.

“careful, lan, people might see!” you giggled, looking up at him like he’d lost his mind. it had been eight months of keeping your relationship under wraps, and while you both understood why it had to be that way, it still didn’t make it easy. it was moments like these where you yearned for a normal relationship, one where your partner wasn’t in the spotlight, one where he could give you a kiss on your birthday and it wouldn’t be plastered all over social media the next day. but it was worth it, you thought as you looked up at lando’s face, eagerly waiting for you to open your presents. it was worth it to call him yours, even if it was only in secret.

yeah, it was worth it, you thought, as you watched lando laughing uncontrollably at something max had said, the two of them stationed behind the dj booth you’d hired for the party. in general, lando didn’t go much on drinking, and he’d sworn off djing for the most part, but he was willing to make exceptions for your special day, and you smiled to see him enjoying himself. your best friend followed your gaze, noticing you phasing out of the group conversation you were in, and nudged you.

“you’re staring, y/n. you totally fancy him.” she teased, and for a moment you almost slipped up, you almost replied with yeah, I really do. but you caught yourself, instead laughing it off with a sharp shake of your head, elbowing her right back.

“knock it off, we’re just mates.” you protested, but your friend arched an eyebrow and pursed her lips in a way that suggested that she didn’t quite believe you. she opened her mouth to reply, but at that moment, the lights shut off and the music cut out. you instinctively glanced over back towards the dj booth, eyes searching for lando, confused to find him gone. but the confusion only lasted for a moment as a glow of light emerged from the kitchen; twenty lit candles pressed into a cake, held up by lando as he brought it across the room towards you, all your friends joining in and singing happy birthday to you. you grinned, feeling tears prick your eyes. god, you’d never been happier. there was only one thing that could’ve made this day more incredible, and you sighed to yourself as you watched lando bring the cake closer, lowering it slightly so you could blow out the candles. his eyes locked on yours for just a moment, and you swore you felt your heart stop.

“make a wish.” he murmured.

you blew out the candles, earning a cheer and a few hip hip hoorays from your friends gathered around you. lando set the cake down on the table, another friend stepping in to help cut and distribute it to guests, allowing you just a moment to talk whilst everyone was distracted.

“what did you wish for?” he asked, voice low, making you lean in to be able to hear him above the music which had started up again. you arched an eyebrow.

“if I tell you, it won’t come true.” you retorted, the corner of your lips curving up into a wry smile. it always gave you butterflies, flirting with lando in public. something about it made you feel like you were still in that stage where anything could happen, like you were just starting to get to know him all over again. his expression changed slightly as he reached into his back pocket.

“now don’t yell at me, but I got you one last present.”

“lando!” you protested; you’d already admonished him earlier after you’d opened all your gifts from him. you could tell he’d spent a lot of money, more than you believed you deserved, on anything you’d ever mentioned wanting. shoes, a nice handbag, a designer coat, expensive earrings. but it wasn’t just material things, he’d got tickets to than gig you mentioned you wanted to go to, taken out an annual membership for the gardens you always liked going to for some peace and quiet, donated money to the shelter your parents adopted the family dog from. it was far too much, yet lando insisted it wasn’t enough to show you how much he loved you.

“I said don’t yell at me!” he replied playfully, producing a small wrapped item and holding it out to you, “it’s not an expensive one. it’s just… well, just open it and see.”

you peeled off the wrapping paper with gentle fingers, the package feeling so delicate in your hands compared to all the other larger gifts he’d showered you with. it revealed a gold necklace, with a single ‘L’ hanging from the chain. you looked at it, awestruck, running a finger over the gold letter.

“lan, this is beautiful.” you murmured softly.

“to remind you how much I love you, even if I can’t always show it.” he explained softly, and you felt a lump form in your throat. it was so bittersweet, you thought, as he took the necklace from your hands and instructed you to turn around so he could fasten it round your neck. the necklace was like some sort of twisted metaphor for your relationship, always there but often hidden. you turned back to face him, glancing down to admire the jewellery for a moment. if people saw this, it wouldn’t take them long to join the dots, to make the connection, especially if you were next to lando. you sighed, reaching to take the ‘L’ between your fingers and tuck it under your top, to hide it away. but lando’s hand was on yours in an instant, holding it in place, his fingers clasped round yours, clasped round the golden letter. you looked up in surprise.

“don’t hide it.” he said softly, “fuck it. I want people to see it. I want them to know.”

the confidence with which he had said it startled you, but in the best way. you barely had time to process the words before his hand had snaked around your waist, pulling you to him, his lips on yours in an instant. it wasn’t a gentle kiss; it was a kiss that let everyone know, without a shadow of a doubt, that you were his, and he was yours.

you pulled away for a moment, eyes on him, but in your peripheral vision you clocked a few of your friends watching the two of you, mouths open, slices of cake forgotten about. your best friend had a smug grin on her face, one that said that she knew all along. you saw max begrudgingly slip pietra a ten pound note. lando saw it too, and laughed. and then you laughed. and then you kissed him again.

“happy birthday.” he murmured, resting his forehead on yours.

“I got my birthday wish.” you murmured in reply.

a/n: and thus concludes the little ‘just friends’ mixtape! check out the previous tracks below:

told her you were just a friend | just don’t want your friend to see

[aceyalonso]

we're both winners, sweetheart - LEWIS HAMILTON

pairing : lewis hamilton x fem!reader | READ PART 1 HERE

summary : Y/n and Lewis going through the typical struggles of marriage (or in other words, the struggle of keeping up the charade of being married)

warnings : THE ANNOUNCEMENT IN THE STORY IS FAKE!!! swearing, kinda angsty, drinking, nail-biting, talking about sex (nothing too detailed), discussions of raising a family, 11-year age gap (reader is 28 years old), smut, hair pulling, unintentional overstimulation, choking, unprotected sex (always use a condom guys!)

face claim - gracie abrams

word count : 18.6k

song : agora hills - doja cat

a/n : this isn't proofread and SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG, I WAS DEALING WITH SO MUCH PERSONAL STUFF OMG (this was supposed to be fore my 300 followers celebration thing | i might make a separate series for lyka and lando…………………………

July 8, Monday, 7:09 AM

Toto Wolff sits behind his desk, his expression a mixture of surprise and concern. Y/n and Lewis sit on the other side, both looking a bit sheepish and on edge. Toto looks at them, a moment of awkward silence hanging in the air before he finally speaks. "So," he begins, his voice cautious. "I have to say, this is... quite a situation you've gotten yourselves into."

Lewis clears his throat, his gaze meeting Toto's. "Yeah, we kind of... didn't see this coming," he admits, a hint of humor in his tone. "It was a very unexpected development, to say the least."

Y/n fidgets in her seat, her fingers massaging her forehead. She glances at Toto, his expression still unreadable. She tries to sound calm and rational, but her voice betrays her nervousness. "We weren't... fully sober when it happened," she offers lamely, as if it's an excuse.

Toto's eyebrow quirks at this revelation, a hint of disbelief in his voice. "Not fully sober," he repeats, his tone heavy with incredulity. "You got married... not fully sober?"

Lewis grimaces slightly at the bluntness of his words but doesn't deny it. "That... that's correct," he affirms, his voice a bit strained. "We were both a bit... impaired when we tied the knot, let's put it that way."

Toto rubs his forehead, seeming to struggle with how to respond to this information. He gathers himself and looks at them again, his expression more somber now. "And what exactly were you doing that led to this... marriage?" he asks, his tone slightly stern.

Lewis and Y/n exchange a glance, both knowing the answer will likely not help their case. Lewis speaks up first, his voice a bit sheepish. "We, ah... we were at a club. A very lively club, if you understand."

Toto leans forward in his chair, expression now a mix of thoughtfulness and strategy. "Okay," he says, "this is clearly a situation that will need some serious damage control if it gets out. We'll need the PR team to make something, anything to spin this in a way that... minimizes the impact on your image, Lewis, and the teams' reputation."

Y/n coughs, breaking the silence in the room and drawing everyone's attention. She clears her throat, feeling a bit awkward under the weight of Toto and Lewis' gazes. "Um, forgive me," she apologizes, her voice a bit hoarse. "But what... what are you suggesting?"

Toto's eyes shift to her, his expression still calculating. "Well, we need to control the narrative," he explains. "We need to get ahead of any potential media storm and craft a story that… makes this look less like a drunken mistake and more like a… a romantic love story, perhaps."

Lewis can't help but scoff slightly at this, his mouth tugging into a wry smile. "A romantic love story, huh?" he muses, skepticism in his tone. "Do you really think anyone's going to believe that?"

Toto's gaze hardens at Lewis' flippant comment. "At this point, any narrative is better than the truth," he says, his voice firm. "We need to protect your image, Lewis, and the team's reputation. We need to control the damage, and that means spinning this in a way that… makes you both look as good as possible."

Y/n mutters under her breath as Toto and Lewis continue their discussion, unable to hide her growing concern. "My dad is going to kill me," she whispers, her voice a mixture of dread and resignation. She imagines her father's reaction to this news, the fury and disappointment in his eyes.

She finally speaks up, her mind turning to her own interests in this situation. "Wait," she interjects, cutting into Lewis and Toto's discussion. They both turn to her, surprised. "If we're going to go along with this… PR plan, I want something out of it too."

Toto and Lewis look at her, a bit taken aback by her unexpected request. Toto quirks an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "And what is it you want, exactly?" he asks, his tone a mix of curiosity and caution.

Y/n takes a deep breath, her mind racing as she formulates her request. "I want this to benefit me too," she says, her tone firm but tentative. "I don't just want to be a pawn in this charade. I want my own image to be protected, and�� I want it to have a positive impact on my future, on my family's company."

Toto and Lewis exchange glances, both surprised but also understanding the logic in her request. Lewis turns to her with slight admiration, a small smile playing on his lips. "That's… very practical of you," he says, his voice carrying a hint of respect.

Y/n's response is matter-of-fact, and her expression is a mix of determination and practicality. "Business is business," she repeats, her tone resolute. "If we're going to play this game, we might as well use it to our advantage, right?"

Toto nods slightly, appreciating her mercenary approach. "You're not wrong," he concedes, a grudging respect in his voice. "If we can use this situation to our mutual benefit, then perhaps it won't be a total disaster."

Lewis looks at Y/n, a gleam of admiration in his eyes at her business-mindedness. "You've got guts," he remarks, a smirk playing on his lips. "I can respect that."

Y/n chuckles a bit at his comment, the humor beginning to shine through despite the seriousness of their situation. "Well," she says with a small laugh, "if you want to get technical, that is one reason we got married, isn't it?"

Toto glares at Y/n, his gaze is stern and reprimanding. Y/n's eyes widen in response, and she immediately feels a pang of regret, realizing she has spoken out of turn. She mutters a quick "Sorry, too soon," her voice a whisper as she shrinks down in her seat.

Toto sighs, his expression softening slightly. "Let's remain professional, please," he reminds her, his tone a bit weary. "We need you to be present at the next Grand Prix, okay? Because by then we'll have the PR statement announced. Lewis can send you the details."

Y/n nods, a bit chastened but also understanding. "Okay," she apologizes again, her voice sincere. "I'll check my schedule if I'm free on... whatever day that is."

Toto nods in acknowledgment, his expression is still weary but slightly less stern. He turns his attention back to Lewis and continues the discussion, the mood in the room now more serious and focused.

With the focus of the conversation now shifted to Lewis and Toto, Y/n pulls out her phone, sensing that she isn't needed in the immediate discussion. She scrolls through her phone, trying to distract herself from the ongoing conversation. Occasionally, she glances up, listening to bits and pieces of the talk, but mostly just biding her time.

Y/n scrolls through her Twitter feed, her eyes scanning over the various news and Tweets. Suddenly, something catches her eye, causing her to stand up from her seat and exclaim a surprised curse word.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" Y/n exclaims, her voice laced with disbelief and shock. She stares down at her phone, the blood draining from her face as she processes whatever she has just seen.

Toto and Lewis' heads snap in her direction at the outburst. They look at her, startled and alarmed by her reaction. Toto's brow furrows in concern, and he asks, "What is it? What's wrong?"

Y/n holds out her phone to Toto, her face still etched with shock and disbelief. Toto takes the phone from her, his eyes widening as he looks at the screen. Lewis leans over to look as well, his expression turning serious as he reads whatever is on the screen.

Toto's jaw clenches as he looks at the image, his expression hard and guarded. He glances at Y/n, then back at the phone screen, seeming to be processing the implications of this photo.

Lewis shakes his head, his jaw clenching in annoyance. "That's just perfect," he mutters sarcastically. "As if we didn't have enough to deal with already."

Toto continues scrolling through the tweet and reading comments from fans and media alike. He pauses, seeing several comments speculating that the woman in the photo is actually Y/n. His expression darkens with concern as he reads these comments.

He glances at Y/n, then at Lewis, and sighs deeply. "This is really bad," he says, his voice a low grumble. "If people start connecting the dots… we're going to have a PR nightmare on our hands."

Y/n is silently freaking out, her mind racing with thoughts and worries. She gnaws anxiously on her nails, a nervous habit she has when feeling overwhelmed.

Toto notes her distress but focuses on the practicalities of the situation for the moment, exchanging a few more words with Lewis.

Toto and Lewis quietly discuss the next steps, trying to come up with a damage control plan. Toto occasionally glances at Y/n, noticing her anxious behavior, but doesn't interrupt his conversation with Lewis for the moment.

Y/n suddenly pipes up, interrupting Toto and Lewis' conversation. "Wait," she interjects, her tone a bit frenzied. "What if we lied? What if… what if we said we've been married for almost a year? Like, we got married during the winter break?"

Toto's expression softens slightly as he contemplates Y/n's idea. "It's a possibility," he muses, his voice measured. "Getting married during the off-season would make sense, given the hectic schedule of the drivers. It would be more logical that Lewis would take time off for a wedding rather than a drunken elopement."

Lewis nods, seeing the logic in Y/n's suggestion. "It could work," he agrees, his tone less skeptical than before. "It would at least make the whole situation seem less impulsive and foolish, and more like… a planned commitment."

Y/n continues to gnaw anxiously on her nails, her eyes flitting between Toto and Lewis as she waits for them to make a decision. The weight of the situation, the impending lie they are about to concoct, hangs heavily on her mind.

Toto notices her distress but is still wrapped up in the discussion with Lewis, he decides to address it once they have a plan. "Let's work out the details," he says, his tone business-like. "We need to make sure our story is ironclad, and our timelines line up."

He turns to Y/n, his expression stern but not unsympathetic. "And I suggest you stop chewing on your nails," he remarks matter-of-factly. "We'll need to present a united, calm front, and that doesn't include nervous fidgeting."

Though Y/n stops biting her nails as Toto advises, her anxiety doesn't diminish. She transfers her nervous energy to her palms, starting to scratch and pick nervously at the skin, leaving slight crescent-shaped marks.

Toto notices her new anxious habit but doesn't address it directly at the moment. He and Lewis continue their discussion, fine-tuning the details of the lie they are going to spin. The atmosphere in the room remains tense, but there seems to be a rough plan coming together.

As the meeting draws to a close, Toto excuses himself to take a call from the head of PR. He motions for Y/n and Lewis to wait, and they remain silent in Toto's office as he steps out to take the call.

When Toto returns, he appears even more tense than before. He bids both Y/n and Lewis a rushed farewell, as he needs to deal with the situation with the head of PR. The two of them are left standing in the office, the atmosphere heavy with the weight of the day's events.

Lewis glances at Y/n, her face slightly pale and tired from the stress of the situation. He can tell that she's still anxious and tense, and he reaches out to gently squeeze her hand, offering a small gesture of comfort. "Hey," he says in a soft voice, "it's going to be okay. We're… we're going to get through this."

Y/n looks up at him, her eyes weary and full of worry. She tries to force a small smile, appreciating his attempt at reassurance. "I hope so," she replies, her voice a bit shaky. "I just… I hope we can pull this off. The lie…"

Lewis nods in understanding. "I know," he says, his tone sympathetic. "It's a lot to take on. But we don't have many options at this point. If we don't control the narrative, someone else will, and…" he trails off, the implication clear.

Y/n nods, knowing that he's right. "I get it," she mutters, her voice laced with resignation. "I just… I didn't sign up for all this, you know? All this… lying, and spinning stories, and… pretending."

Y/n lets out a humorless chuckle, her voice resigned. "You're telling me," she says sarcastically. "I didn't even sign up for this marriage, not while I was sober at least... and now I have to lie about it, pretend it was pre-planned, and… play the part of the dutiful wife."

She shakes her head, the absurdity of the situation weighing heavily on her shoulders. "It's just… surreal," she continues her tone a mix of disbelief and frustration. "A few days ago, I was a private person, living my life, and now I'm suddenly… a married woman, the center of a media shitstorm, and I'm expected to lie about it all like it's no big deal."

As they walk down the halls, Y/n is still somewhat zoned out, her mind preoccupied with the stresses and worries of the day. Lewis is right beside her, his hand occasionally on her lower back, providing silent moral support. They pass by other team members and staff, and more than a few curious glances and whispers follow them, aware of the situation unfolding but unwilling to speak openly.

They reach the parking lot, and Lewis turns to Y/n, his expression concerned. "Do you want me to drive you home?" he asks gently, his tone sincere. "You look exhausted."

Y/n nods, her fatigue clearly visible in her eyes and demeanor. "Yeah," she replies, her voice a weary whisper. "That would be great, thanks. I'm… I'm feeling pretty wiped out."

Lewis nods in understanding and leads her towards his car. The trip to her home is mostly silent, both of them too emotionally drained to talk much. Lewis occasionally glances at her, checking if she is okay. Y/n just gazes out the window, her thoughts far away.

He follows the directions given by Y/n to her apartment. The car ride is quiet, neither of them speaking much due to the weight of the situation on their minds. Once they arrive at her apartment, Lewis parks the car but doesn't immediately get out. Instead, he turns to her, his expression a mixture of worry and concern.

Lewis watches as Y/n unbuckles her seatbelt and reaches for the door handle. Before she can open the door, he turns to her and asks, "You're going to be okay, right? You'll be okay alone? I can stay with you if you want."

Y/n offers a weary smile, touched by Lewis's concern. "I… I'll be fine," she assures him, her voice soft but strained. "You don't need to stay. I just… need some time to process all this. Alone."

Lewis accepts her decision to be alone, though his expression remains worried. "Okay," he says softly, "Take care of yourself, alright? And… call me if you need anything. Anytime, okay?"

She nods slightly, appreciating his offer. "Thanks, I will," she replies. "I'll… I'll be fine. I just need a bit of space to clear my head."

Y/n exits the car, her movements slow and weary. The weight of the situation seems to hang heavily on her shoulders as she stands outside her apartment, looking up at the building.

Lewis watches her from the driver's seat, a mixture of concern and sadness on his face. He waits a moment to make sure she gets inside safely before driving off.

July 8, Monday, 10:37 AM

As Y/n begins to unlock her apartment door, she hears the familiar sound of her cat meowing on the other side. The sound is both a comfort and a further reminder of her responsibilities, and she feels a pang of fondness mixed with exhaustion.

After unlocking the door, she pushes it open and is immediately met with the soft sound of her cat rubbing against her legs, meowing for attention. Y/n bends down and scoops up the cat in her arms, holding it close to her chest, seeking comfort in its presence.

She holds her cat “Extra Virgin Olive Oil” (“Evoo” for short) close, the familiar warmth and weight of her furry companion a soothing presence. The ridiculousness of the name, a result of yet another drunken decision, momentarily brings a bittersweet smile to her lips.

Y/n walks into the apartment, closing the door behind her and making her way to the living room. She sits down on the couch, setting her bag on the floor before setting Evoo down on her lap and gently stroking his white fur. The soothing motion and rhythmic purring of the cat help to calm her tumultuous thoughts.

As Y/n sits on the couch, gently stroking her cat, she begins to speak to him in a soft, quiet voice. Although it’s not unusual for people to talk to their pets, there’s an undertone of vulnerability in her words, unloading her worries to a receptive but silent companion.

“Hi, baby,” she begins, her voice laced with exhaustion. “You won’t believe the day I’ve had.” She continues to idly pet the cat in her lap, the gentle motion seeming to soothe her as much as her cat. “I… I’ve gotten myself into a real mess, you know? Things are… complicated, to say the least.”

She leans her head back against the couch, her fingers continuing to absently run through the white cat’s fur. “I know you’re just a cat, and you probably don’t understand what I’m saying. But it helps, talking to you like this. It helps to get it all out, even if you can’t talk back.”

As Y/n continues to talk, the words flow out of her in a rushed confession. “And… that’s not even the craziest, Evoo,” she murmurs, shaking her head slightly. “I got married. Can you believe that?”

Her cat, as if responding to her words, looks up at her with its large eyes, seemingly bewildered by the revelation. It tilts its head as if asking “What?!”

Y/n lets out a soft, humorless chuckle at her cat’s reaction, continuing to stroke its fur. “Yeah, I know. It’s crazy, right?” she continues, her voice still heavy with exhaustion but holding a hint of irony. “I… I got married, and I don’t even remember most of it. Isn’t that just wild?”

She pushes aside her exhaustion and moves from the couch, placing Evoo gently on the nearby rug. She then remembers to change her cat’s water bowl, her actions automatic and routine. As she fills the bowl from the kitchen sink, she glances back at her cat, still resting on the rug.

“Don’t worry, bud,” she calls out, her voice slightly less weary, “He’s… he’s a good guy. I think.”

After refilling the water bowl, Y/n returns to the living room, her mind still swirling with the day’s events. She glances at Evoo, who is now lapping up the fresh water. For a moment, she wishes her life was as simple as a cat’s, where the most pressing concern was the next meal, not an unexpected marriage and a web of lies.

Y/n rubs his head one last time before straightening up. “Alright, buddy,” she says, her tone softer now that she’s attending to her cat’s needs. “I’m going to take a bath. Be a good boy while I’m gone, alright?”

She sits in the bathtub, the water warm and comforting, surrounding her tired body in a soothing embrace. An iPad is placed on a wooden bath tray near the edge of the tub, playing a movie that she’s only partially paying attention to.

In her hand, she holds a glass of lemon water, taking small sips every now and then as she there, letting the hot water work its relaxing magic.

The scent of lavender from a bath bomb fills the room, adding to the atmosphere of calm and tranquility. However, despite the peaceful setting, Y/n’s mind remains restless, the events of the day still weighing heavily on her thoughts. Despite trying to focus on the movie, she finds her mind wandering back to the marriage, the lie, the future.

As the stream from the bath billows around her, Y/n takes another small sip from her lemon water, her mind still spinning. The bath was intended to relax her, to wash away the tension of the day, but her thoughts stubbornly refused to let her rest. She tries to force herself to watch the movie, to focus on something other than her worries, but the events of the day keep flooding back.

The heat of the bath, combined with the subtle fragrance of the lavender, should be lulling her into a tranquil state, but her mind is too chaotic, too filled with worries and regrets. She takes another sip of her lemon water, the tangy taste reminding her of the sourness she feels inside, the unease that hasn't let her go since this whole mess began.

Y/n is wrapped in a towel, her wet hair sticking to her shoulders as she steps out of her bedroom and into the living/dining space. She's surprised to see Lyka walking in with a bright smile, a stark contrast to her own weary state.

Y/n, still wrapping the towel around herself, glances up at Lyka through wet strands of hair. "You seem unusually cheerful," she remarks, her tone slightly teasing as she reaches the kitchen and sets her glass down in the sink. Evoo brushes against her leg, seeking attention, and she gives the cat a gentle pat before turning back to Lyka. "What's up?"

Lyka's eyes sparkle with excitement and a hint of pride. "The best night ever," she echoes, her smile widening. "You won't believe it, Y/n. I hooked up with the DJ."

Y/n raises her brows in surprise and recognition. "Oh, Lando?" she asks, a hint of amusement in her tone. "I saw you dancing with him at the booth last night."

Lyka blinks in surprise when Y/n says Lando's name, her excitement now mixed with a touch of curiosity. "Yeah!- Wait, how do you know his name?" she asks, her expression a mix of surprise and intrigue.

Y/n settles onto a bar stool, opening the wrapper to a small piece of chocolate. She takes a small bite of the chocolate and continues talking to Lyka as she munches on the sweet treat. "I became friends with one of Lando's friends last night," she explains, a hint of a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

Her playful smile fades as the memory of her marriage hits her like a ton of bricks. She chokes mid-sentence, the taste of chocolate turning bitter in her mouth. "I... um..." she stutters, her mind racing to find a way to explain.

"I... I have something to tell you," she manages to continue, her voice a bit strained. She sets the chocolate bar down, her appetite suddenly gone. "And... it's kind of a big deal. Like, a really big deal."

Lyka's expression changes as she senses the seriousness in Y/n's tone. Her eyes widened slightly, and she leaned in, her face replaced by a look of concern. "What is it?" she asks, her voice low and worried.

Y/n takes a deep breath, bracing herself for the reaction that's about to follow. "I..." she starts, her voice faltering as she struggles to find the right words. "I... I got married."

There's a moment of stunned silence as Lyka processes Y/n's confession. Her eyes widen even further, and her hand grips the countertop, her knuckles turning white. "You... you what?" she manages to stutter out, her voice a mix of shock and disbelief.

"And... it may or may not have been a friend of Lando's...." Lyka's eyes widen even further when Y/n clarifies that the person she married is a friend of Lando. "Wait..." she starts, her mind spinning with the implications. "You married one of Lando's friends? Who..."

Y/n hesitates for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest. She swallows hard, preparing herself for the fallout. "Lewis," she finally manages to say. "I... I married Lewis."

As Lyka tries to remember if Lando mentioned anything Lewis, a flicker of recognition appears in her eyes. "Wait..." she says, her soft soft as she recalls the conversation with Lando. "Lando mentioned something about a party of celebrate one of his friends' win. Was that Lewis?"

Y/n doesn't trust herself to speak, so she just nods in affirmation. She can see the pieces falling into place in Lyka's mind, her friend digesting the information with a mix of surprise and confusion.

Lyka lifts her hands in a gesture of disbelief, her voice filled with a mixture of amusement and incredulity. "I swear, the universe has a weird sense of humor when it comes to you and alcohol," she says, shaking her head. "Seriously, the weirdest things happen to you when you're drunk. It's like you're attracting weirdness or something."

As Y/n gets up to change, she can't help but notice that Lyka is wearing a hoodie she doesn't recognize. She decides to bring it up later, as they have plenty to discuss when they regroup in the kitchen.

"Alright, let's change and meet here in five," Y/n suggests, her tone a bit lighter now. "We'll compare our crazy nights, and you can tell me about your new hoodie too," she adds with a smile.

Lyka flushes furiously as Y/n hints at the hoodie she's wearing, her cheeks turning a deep shade of red. "Oh my god, shut up," she giggles, trying to hide her embarrassment. "It's just a hoodie, okay?"

Y/n grins knowingly as she responds, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Yeah, it's Lando's hoodie," she teases, emphasizing the name for effect. "And you're blushing like crazy."

Lyka buries her face in her hands, still blushing profusely. "Ugh, I swear, you're the worst," she groans, half-heartedly swatting at Y/n "Why do you have to point it out like that?"

Y/n laughs, enjoying the sight of her flustered friend. "Alright, alright, I'll stop teasing," she says, her voice filled with amusement. She moves towards her room, still smiling at Lyka's reaction. "You get changed, and I'll do the same. Meet you in the kitchen in five."

Y/n sits next to Lyka, a soft smile on her face. As they settle into their seats by the counter, Lyka begins recounting her night with Lando. Her cheeks are still a little flushed, betraying her excitement.

"So, about last night..." she says, her voice slightly giddy, "I had the best night ever with Lando."

Y/n takes a chip from the bowl on the counter, chewing on it as she listens to her friend's story. "Yeah?" she prompts. encouraging Lyka to continue. "Tell me more. What made it the best night ever?"

Lyka emphasizes her point, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "His hands were skilled," she repeats, her voice lowered to a whisper. "Seriously, Y/n, you have no idea. He was so fucking good."

"His touches, his moves, everything just... wow," Lyka continues, the memory clearly relived in her mind. She takes a sip of her water, her gaze distant for a moment before she focuses on Y/n. "I swear, it was like he knew exactly what to do, and how to do it."

Lyka's excitement reaches a whole new level as she starting bouncing in her seat. "Oh my god," she exclaims, her voice a mix of shock and excitement. "When he was-" She suddenly breaks off, her words catching in her throat.

She cuts off her own sentence, biting her lip as if holding back a secret. There's a mixture of delight and surprise on her face. "He... he was just-" she stammers, struggling to put the experience into words. "It was incredible," she finally manages, her voice full of awe.

Y/n listens intently, smiling at her friend's enthusiasm. She can tell that whatever Lando did, it clearly surpassed Lyka's expectations. "Incredible, huh?" she teases, raising a brow. "Sounds like Lando's got some serious skills there."

Lyka takes a moment to fan herself, the memory of her night with Lando still fresh in her mind. "Yeah... yeah I was," she says, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "I was shaking like a leaf by the time it was done."

She looks down at her hands as if reliving the sensation. "It was tense," she adds, shaking her head in disbelief. "Like, seriously intense. I don't think I could have handled much more."

Lyka lets out a shaky breath, a mixture of pleasure and disbelief in her voice. "Yeah," she replies, her face still flushed. "He just... he just kept going, even when I thought I couldn't take anymore. It was... it was too much, but in the best way possible, you know?"

She takes another sip of her water, her body still feeling the after-effects of Lando's touches. "He knew exactly what he was doing," she adds, a hint of admiration in her voice. "I've never experienced anything like it before."

Y/n can't resist teasing a little more, a sly smile on her face. "Well," she says, raising a brow, "Maybe Lando was just making up for the disappointing performance your ex put on."

Lyka, still flushed and giggling, enthusiastically agrees with Y/n's assessment. "ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY!" she exclaims, her voice loud and clear. "Lando was the complete opposite of my ex. He made up for that shitshow tenfold."

She takes a moment to catch her breath, her face still glowing. She can't help but gush about Lando's attributes, her voice filled with awed excitement. "I swear, he was HUGE," she says, her voice filled with excitement.

Y/n laughs, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and amusement. "Shh, shh, keep it down," she shushes her friend, laughing as she glances toward the wall shared with their neighbors. "The whole building doesn't need to know about Lando's... size."

Lyka, still caught up in the memory of her night with Lando, continues to rave about his skills and his 'size' ''I don't even know how to describe it," she gushes, her voice filled with admiration. "There's just... no comparison. Lando's in a league of his own."

She's so caught up in her praise that she practically glows. "I never knew it could be like that," she admits, her flushed cheeks a clear indication of her satisfaction. "He knows how to handle everything."

Lyka's voice softens as she reflects on the night, her face now taking on a more tender expression. "He was so gentle and caring afterward," she says, a hint of fondness in her tone. "It was like he knew exactly what I needed."

Y/n, curious about the tender side of Lando, asks how exactly he was caring after their night together. Lyka's expression softens even more as she continues. "He was really sweet," she explains. "He held me close, and told me how amazing I was. Kept asking if I was okay, and if I needed anything. Just really took care of me, you know?"

"Oh, and he left me a shit ton of hickeys too," Lyka mentions, causing Y/n to involuntarily spit out her drink in surprise. Y/n's eyes widen as Lyka casually mentions that detail. She was taking a sip of her drink at the same moment, causing her to almost choke on the liquid, spurting it out in surprise. "Hickeys?" she exclaims, her voice slightly strained. "Lando gave you hickeys?"

Lyka grins widely, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She shifts the collar of her shirt to reveal several small, purplish marks on her collarbone and neck. "Yeah," she says, her voice a bit smug. "He marked me up, good."

Lyka lets out a cheeky giggle, her eyes sparkling. "Oh, yeah," she confirms, her voice slightly lower. "He left some on my thighs too, but Lando said those were for his eyes only."

Y/n can't help but stare at her friend in disbelief. Her mouth is still slightly agape, her eyes wide as she processes the information. "For his eyes only, huh?" she manages to say, her voice a mix of disbelief and amusement.

She shakes her head, a little bemused by Lando's possessiveness. "Sounds like Lando wants to keep you all to himself," she teases, grinning. "No sharing allowed."

Lyka grins, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "Oh, absolutely," she confirms, giggling. "We made a deal. He wants to be my friend with benefits," she says, using air quotes, "And I just have to look pretty and make him feel good." She adds with a coy smile, paraphrasing Lando's words.

Lyka brightens up even more, her voice eager and excited. "Oh, and I'm going to his next race too!" she exclaims, bouncing a little in her seat. "I'll be in the McLaren garage, of course. Lando said he wants me there."

Y/n nods, a smile on her face. "I'll be there too, slightly against my will," she confirms, "But I'll be in the Mercedes garage." She glances at her friend, a spark of curiosity in her eyes. "This is gonna be fun, watching the race from opposite ends of the garage."

"So... what about your night?" Lyka asks curiously, looking at Y/n with amusement through her eyelashes.

Y/n takes a moment, her mind flashing back to the events of her night. "My night…" she muses, her voice a little dreamy. "Well, it was… eventful, to say the least."

She lets out a soft chuckle, the memory of the night still fresh in her mind. "So, I was on the dance floor, just dancing, and Lewis came up behind me," she recalls, her voice laced with a hint of excitement.

Y/n glances at Lyka before continuing, her voice taking on a wry tone. "Yeah, it was around the time you went to dance with Lando," she says, clearly amused by the coincidence. "Lewis just appeared out of nowhere, tapped me on the shoulder, and we started dancing."

She smiles, her cheeks slightly flushed as she describes the night. "We were talking, flirting a bit," she says, her voice holding a hint of excitement. "He bought me drinks at the bar, and we just… connected, I guess."

Y/n lets out a light laugh, her cheeks flushing a little at the memory. "Yeah, so… eventually… we may have found a secluded spot and, you know, things got a bit heated," she explains, a coy smile playing on her lips. "And I may or may not have told him I'd marry him as a joke."

She shakes her head, still amused by the audacity of her own words. "I don't even know where it came from," she says. "Just a spur-of-the-moment thing, you know? A little drunken banter."

Y/n continues, her voice filled with amusement. "Well, Lewis just chuckled when I said it," she recounts. "I mean, he knew I was just joking, right? But then he just… playfully agreed, you know? Like, he said something like, 'Sure, why not? Let's get hitched.' It was all just goofing around, really."

Y/n sees the look on Lyka's face and knows her friend is judging her, but it's in a friendly way. She laughs, shaking her head. "Hey, don't give me that look," she says, a hint of defensiveness in her voice. "It was just a joke, you know that, right?"

Lyka gives Y/n a sly smile, her voice filled with mock disbelief. "A joke that turned into an actual marriage," she repeats, her tone dripping with cheeky sarcasm. "Wow, I hope Lewis doesn't mind waking up to your morning breath every day."

Y/n playfully smacks Lyka's arm, laughing. "Hey, my morning breath isn't that bad," she protests, her voice light with feigned offense.

She then swats at Lyka again, her smile broadening. "And for the record, I would make an amazing wife," she boasts, her voice half-joking, half-serious.

Y/n straightens her shoulders, posing theatrically. "I'd be, like, the perfect trophy wife. I'd look good standing next to Lewis during his press conferences and podium interviews."

Lyka laughs out loud at Y/n's confident declaration. "Oh my god," she snickers, her voice filled with mirth. "You're actually picturing yourself as a trophy wife? Standing there, looking pretty while Lewis talks about racing strategy and tire compounds?"

Y/n grins, raising a brow at Lyka. "And what about you?" she asks a hint of challenge in her voice. "Can you see yourself doing the same for Lando? Standing there, looking gorgeous, while he talks about car setup and track conditions?"

Lyka nods with conviction, a sparkle in her eyes. "Absolutely, yes," she affirms. "I can totally picture myself looking all cute and pretty, with a whole wardrobe of amazing outfits courtesy of Lando's earnings. It's all about the perks, you know?"

She grins mischievously. "Besides, watching Lando on the track, all focused and intense, and then coming home to spoil me rotten? Sounds pretty damn good to me."

Y/n nods, her lips curving into a smile. "You know what, you have a point there," she admits, her voice laced with a touch of envy. "Getting to watch Lewis race, all focused and competitive, and then having him come home and… well, show me just how much he appreciates me… yeah, I could get used to that."

She quirks an eyebrow, glancing at the calendar. "Alright, when's the next race again?" she asks, her voice slightly impatient. "I need to check if I'm free that day, cause Toto- his team principal, I believe? said that I have to be there. Some PR bullshit."

Y/n pulls out her phone, quickly searching for the race schedule. "Lemme see," she murmurs, scrolling through her screen. "There we go. The next race is two weeks from now... Let's see… yep, I'm free that day."

She puts her phone away, a hint of satisfaction in her voice. "All clear," she affirms. "I'll be there, cheering on Lewis every lap of the way."

Lyka smirks, her voice dripping with playfully sarcastic praise. "Oh, you're such a good wife," she teases. "Making sure you're always available to support your husband's racing career. That's true devotion right there."

Y/n laughs, returning the teasing with a sly grin. "And what about you?" she asks, raising a brow. "Ready to be Lando's arm candy, showing off all those designer outfits he'll buy you?"

Lyka nods vigorously, her face already picturing the fancy outfits she'd wear. "Oh, absolutely," she declares, her voice oozing with enthusiasm. "I'm so ready to be Lando's arm candy, strutting around in all the gorgeous designer outfits he'll spoil me with."

Lyka takes a moment to swallow her chip and then adds, "And hey, speaking of Lando's stuff, I actually need to return that hoodie he lent me. Gotta make sure he gets it back."

She grins mischievously. "Although, maybe I'll 'accidentally' keep it a day or two longer just to remind him of me."

Y/n tsks, shaking her head in mock disapproval. "Oh, wow," she chuckles, her tone laced with feigned surprise. "That's such harlot behavior, keeping a guy's hoodie just to remind him of yourself."

Lyka looks at Y/n in exaggerated shock, her mouth dropping open in mock offense. "Harlot? Really?" she exclaims, her voice filled with laughter. "Out of all the words you could've chosen, you went with harlot! That's a bit harsh, don't you think?"

Y/n shrugs, unable to keep a straight face. "What? It fits!" she replies, her voice laced with mirth. "You're deliberately keeping his hoodie longer just to keep his attention on you. If that isn’t harlot behavior, then I don't know what is."

Lyka rolls her eyes dramatically, a playful grin on her face. "Oh, please," she exclaims, batting her eyelashes dramatically. "It's not harlot behavior, it's strategic flirting. There's a difference."

Y/n chuckles, holding up her hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay," she concedes, her voice still tinged with laughter. "You can call it whatever you want. Strategic flirting, friendly teasing, whatever floats your boat."

July 8, Monday, 4:51 PM

Y/n is in the middle of preparing dinner, peeling potatoes and chopping veggies, when her phone buzzes with a message from an unknown number. She glances down at it curiously, setting down her knife for a moment.

After a few moments, Y/n finishes replying to Lewis' message, a small smile on her face. She sets down her phone, the conversation with Lewis momentarily distracting her from her cooking preparations.

Y/n continues chopping vegetables, her hands moving deftly as she's suddenly interrupted by the sound of Lyka's phone ringing. She stops for a moment, looking up as Lyka grabs her phone.

Lyka's face lights up with surprise as she answers the phone, hearing Lando's voice on the line. "Oh! Hey, Lando," she replies, her voice already cheerful.

Y/n can't help but smile at Lyka's reaction, hearing the change in her tone. She continues chopping vegetables as she listens to Lyka's side of the conversation.

Lyka's voice is filled with excitement as she responds to Lando's question. "Yes, I'll get the tickets for the flight myself," she confirms, her voice slightly giddy. "I'll be there by Friday, no problem."

Her face flushes with a rosy hue as Lando brings up the subject of his hoodie. She lets out a soft, nervous chuckle and replies, a hint of playful charm in her voice, "Ah, about the hoodie… Well, I was actually thinking I might hang onto it a little longer."

Y/n, unable to contain her amusement, lets out a soft giggle, drawing Lyka's attention. She glances at her friend, a sly smile on her face.

Lyka continues the conversation with Lando, her voice taking on a flirtatious tone as she playfully teases him. "You know, if you miss the hoodie that much, you'll just have to come and get it from me yourself…"

Y/n stops mid-preparation, her eyes widening as she eavesdrops on Lyka's conversation. She gapes at her friend for a brief moment, surprised by the boldness of her response.

She can't help but chuckle to herself, thinking, "Lyka's really turning on the charm. Lando's going to be all over her when he gets that hoodie back…"

Lyka continues the conversation, her voice dropping to a sultry tone. "It seems like you miss this hoodie more than you miss me, if you're that desperate to get your hoodie back, maybe we should meet up tomorrow…"

Lyka smiles widely as Lando agrees to meet up the next day. "Great, I'll send you my address in a moment," she replies, her voice a mix of anticipation. "I need to go now, though. But I'll see you tomorrow, alright?"

Y/n watches the exchange with a mixture of amusement and surprise. She can't help but shake her head in disbelief as Lyka ends the call, a cheeky smile on her face.

"Wow," Y/n says, her voice filled with admiration. "You really have Lando wrapped around your finger, don't you?"

Lyka grins, her cheeks still flushed with a hint of a blush. "What can I say? I have my ways of persuasion," she replies, a coy smirk on her face.

Y/n laughs at Lyka's response, amused by her friend's confidence. She continues preparing dinner, adding the ingredients to the pot and stirring it together in the pot, her mind temporarily preoccupied as she focuses on her cooking task. The kitchen emits a warm, savory aroma, the spices blending together to create a mouthwatering scent.

Y/n is suddenly interrupted by the sound of Lyka spitting out her tea, accompanied by an annoyed meow from Evoo. She looks up, slightly startled, setting down her spoon to look over at her friend.

"Whoa, what happened?" Y/n asks, looking at Lyka, who's wiping her mouth with a napkin. Her eyes move to the cat, who's also looking slightly grumpy from the unexpected spray.

Lyka, still catching her breath, quickly points at Y/n's phone, which is on the kitchen counter. "Check your Instagram," she says urgently, a hint of excitement in her voice.

Y/n grabs her phone from the kitchen counter, a look of curiosity on her face. She swipes through her notifications and opens Instagram, as per Lyka's instruction.

Y/n scans through her Instagram timeline and her heart skips a beat as she catches the first article. The statement from Mercedes about her marriage to Lewis is plastered right on her screen. She reads through it, disbelief and surprise etched across her face.

mercedesf1

liked by lewishamilton, george_russell, lyka.val and 563,447 others mercedesamgf1 Following the recent victory at Silverstone, unauthorized images of one of our drivers and his private life have been leaked. We respect our driver’s privacy and are addressing the situation with the seriousness it deserves. Here’s Toto’s reaction to the matter.

user44 HE'S WHAT? FOR HOW LONG?

lewishamiltonfan446427 who the fuck is y/n.... ↳ george.jpg i just searched her up, she used to be a model! she's still active on social media so it isn't that hard to find her account

mercluvr I'M SORRY???

nepobbylver ms rabbit has fainted.

y/nfan1 I'M GOING INSANE??????????????????????????

lewis.hamiltons.gf does this mean i have to change my username...?

y/nfan2 WHEN DID THEY MEET WHAT

y/nfan3 WHEN WHERE WHAT HOW WHEN HUH

rockstarlewis this is some 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 shit dude

wtfmerc so it WAS y/n

A mix of emotions floods through her as she continues reading. She feels a wave of shock, followed by a pang of confusion. Y/n grips her phone tighter, her eyes glued to the words on the screen.

Y/n looks up from her phone, her voice quivering with surprise and a hint of concern. "I didn't know they were releasing this statement today," she replies, her words tinged with a mixture of confusion and anxiety.

Her voice becomes more frantic, the words tumbling out of her mouth in a rush. "It was just an idea I pitched! The whole 'married for 6 months' thing- it wasn't supposed to be taken seriously, not this soon at least!"

She paces around the kitchen, her heart pounding with worry and uncertainty. "I never thought they'd actually make a statement about it without speaking to me first," she mutters, her voice betraying her growing anxiety.

As Y/n continues to pace anxiously, biting on her nails, Lyka takes action. She stands up from the counter and gently grasps Y/n's shoulders, trying to anchor her in the moment.

"Hey, hey," Lyka says in a soothing tone. "Take a deep breath, okay? Panicking isn't going to help the situation."

Y/n nods, trying to steady her racing thoughts. She takes a few deep breaths, letting the air fill her lungs and gradually slowing down her frenzied heartbeat.

Y/n is snapped out of her anxious thoughts as her phone rings loudly in her hand, jolting her back to reality. She glances down at the screen, wondering who could be calling her at this moment.

Her eyes widen as she sees her father's name on the caller ID. She stares at the screen for a moment, her mind swirling with thoughts. Taking another deep breath, she swipes to answer the call.

"Hello?" she says, her voice slightly shaky as she brings the phone to her ear.

She listens intently as her father's voice comes through the other end of the line, waiting anxiously for whatever he has to say. Y/n's father's voice is stern but concerned. "Y/n," he begins, "Have you seen the statement released by Mercedes?"

Y/n holds the phone a little tightly, her heart rate increasing again. "Dad," she begins, "Yes, I just saw it on Instagram. But listen, it's not what it seems-"

Her father's voice cuts her off, filled with disbelief and disappointment. "Not what it seems? It says you've been married to Lewis for 6 months. Explain that."

Y/n hesitates for a moment, her mind racing to come up with a viable explanation. Feeling cornered, she decides to go along with the lie, knowing that the truth will lead to even more disappointment and shame from her father.

"Okay, okay," she says, her voice quivering slightly. "Yes, it's true we got married. But Dad, please understand, it wasn't a spur-of-the-moment thing. We wanted to keep it quiet, that's why we didn't tell anyone right away…"

Y/n listens to her father's scolding, her heart sinking further with each question. "I know, I know," she responds, her voice filled with guilt and remorse. "I should have told you sooner. But Dad, you have to understand, Lewis and I wanted to keep things private at first. The public attention can be overwhelming, and we wanted to enjoy our newlywed bliss in peace…"

Y/n feels a lump form in her throat as she hears the disappointment in her father's voice. This is a first for her—she's never had to lie to her father before, and the guilt starts to weigh heavily on her heart. Fresh tears well up in her eyes, but she tries to maintain her composure on the phone.

Lyka sees the tears in Y/n's eyes and immediately takes notice, her face filled with concern. She walks over to her friend and starts rubbing her back soothingly, a silent show of support and solidarity.

Y/n's father continues to press, his tone slightly more subdued now, "And when can we meet Lewis? Your mother deserves to meet him as soon as possible. We can't just be finding out about your husband on social media, for goodness sake!"

Y/n swallows hard, the weight of the lie becoming more palpable. She racks her brain for an answer, trying to come up with a believable timeframe. "Uh, well, we're actually not together right now... he's still... with his family...," she says, her voice still shaky. "Maybe… Maybe this week? Or when their summer break begins?"

Her father remains silent for a moment, mulling over the proposed timeline. "Very well," he finally responds, his voice still edged with disappointment. "We'll plan something for next week then. I expect a proper introduction and explanation. No more secrets, understood?"

Y/n nods, even though her father can't see her. "Yes, Dad, understood. No more secrets," she mutters, her voice tinged with a mix of guilt and resignation.

After the call ends, Y/n closes her phone, a deep sigh escaping her lips. The weight of the lie and the disappointment from her father hang heavily on her shoulders. She feels like a guilty teenager all over again.

Lyka sees the distress etched on Y/n's face and quickly strides over to her, wrapping her arms around her in a comforting hug. "It's going to be okay," she whispers softly, trying to soothe her friend's troubled heart.

Y/n takes a deep breath, gathering her thoughts and trying to rein in her emotions. She then looks over at Lyka, a newfound determination etched on her face. "I need to let Lewis know about the situation with my father," she says, her voice steadying slightly.

She swiftly opens her phone and navigates to Lewis' contact. She knows she needs to inform him about the recent turn of events. Her fingers grip the phone tighter as she starts typing a message to him.

Y/n closes her phone and sighs, her body still feeling the emotional toll from the conversation with her father. Seeing that Lyka has taken over the cooking, Y/n moves to a nearby chair and plops down, still mulling over the recent developments.

While sitting on the chair, she takes a moment to mentally process everything that has happened. Her mind is filled with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions - the lie, the need to maintain the facade, the guilt of deceiving her father, and the impending meeting with Lewis and her parents.

July 14th, 5:34 PM

The two sit in the car, the engine idling in the driveway of Y/n's childhood home. The atmosphere in the car is tense, and both of them are dreading the upcoming meeting with Y/n's parents.

She takes a deep breath, stealing a glance at Lewis before speaking up. "Okay, here's the plan," she begins, her voice a mixture of conviction and anxiety.

Y/n goes over the 'story' again, recapping the timeline of their 'relationship.' "We met during my vacation- your Christmas break of 2022, and became friends for about two months before you started courting me for three more months," she reminds Lewis. "We started dating after that, dated for five months, got engaged for around two months, and then got married in mid-January. Got it?"

Lewis nods, taking in the timeline and details of their fictional relationship. He's clearly trying to commit everything to memory, fully aware of the importance of maintaining a consistent story in front of Y/n's parents.

Y/n takes another deep breath, her hand fiddling with the hem of her shirt. "Just remember, the key is to stay consistent and make it believable," she adds, her voice a tad shakier than before.

Lewis reaches out and takes Y/n's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "We can do this," he says, his voice filled with determination and reassurance. "We just have to stick to the story and not let our nerves get the better of us."

Y/n nods, reassured by Lewis' words and the gentle squeeze of his hand. "You're right," she says, her voice steadier now. "Stick to the story, stay cool, and we'll get through this."

Lewis turns off the ignition, and the engine falls silent. Both of them unbuckle their seatbelts and get out of the car. Standing in the driveway, they take a moment to glance at each other, preparing themselves for the upcoming interaction.

Y/n's heart pounds in her chest as she and Lewis approach the front door. The familiar surroundings of her childhood home bring back a mixture of emotions—nostalgia, nervousness, and the weight of the lie they're about to perpetuate.

She reaches out and rings the doorbell, the sound echoing through the peaceful neighborhood. They wait for a few moments, the anticipation growing with each passing second.

The maid opens the door and greets Y/n and Lewis warmly. "Hello, welcome," she says with a friendly smile. "Your father is still in his study doing some paperwork and your mother is helping the chefs with the dishes. They should be finished soon."

Y/n thanks the maid and glances at Lewis, a hint of anxiety in her eyes. She leads him into the house, the familiar scent of her childhood home filling her nostrils.

She takes Lewis' hand and leads him into the living room. The spacious room is tastefully decorated with a mix of antique and modern furniture, a reflection of her family's taste and style. She guides him to a cozy sofa and motions for him to take a seat.

As they settle onto the sofa, the maid follows behind them and asks, "Can I get you anything to drink? Coffee, tea, water, perhaps?"

Y/n turns to the maid and responds, her voice a bit tense. "I'll have cold water, please. Thank you."

She then turns to Lewis, trying to keep a semblance of normalcy despite her inner turmoil. "Would you like anything, Lewis? Water, coffee, tea…?"

Lewis looks at Y/n and then at the maid and replies, "I'll have tea, please. Thank you."

As the maid exits the living room Lewis sidles closer to Y/n on the sofa, draping an arm around her in a comforting gesture. He leans in and whispers something in her ear, his voice low and barely audible to anyone else.

In a quiet voice, Lewis whispers to Y/n, "Are there any cameras in the living room?" He asks the question, his gaze subtly glancing around for any visible signs of surveillance equipment.

Y/n is slightly taken aback by Lewis' arm around her, but she collects herself quickly. In a hushed tone, she whispers back, "Yes, there are cameras. They're hidden in various spots around the room, my father has access to the cameras from his study."

Lewis places a soft kiss on Y/n's temple and then pulls her closer, his voice a low murmur. "I know, I probably should have asked for your permission before doing that, but I thought it might help our act. For all we know, your father could be watching us on those cameras at this very moment."

Y/n can feel her heart rate increase a bit at Lewis' proximity and his reasoning behind the kiss. She glances at the hidden cameras, a hint of nervousness in her eyes. She nods subtly, understanding the necessity of keeping up the act.

The two of them maintain their close position on the couch, trying to appear as a married couple who are comfortable in each other's company. Y/n glances around discreetly, wondering how her father is handling the surveillance footage.

Just as they are about to continue their conversation, the maid re-enters the living room, carrying a tray with their drinks. She sets the tray down on the coffee table in front of the sofa, placing a glass of cold water next to Y/n and a steaming cup of tea next to Lewis.

The maid arranges the drinks on the coffee table, the sound of the glass clinking against the tray cutting through the silence in the room. She then smiles politely at them before discretely exiting the living room again, leaving Y/n and Lewis alone with their beverages.

Y/n watches the maid exit, her heart rate slightly elevated. She picks up her glass and takes a small sip of water, her mind racing with a million thoughts. The sound of Lewis' tea cup being placed back on the coffee table breaks the silence, drawing her attention back to him.

As Y/n starts to bite her nail, Lewis reaches out and gently moves her hand away from her mouth, his gaze meeting hers with reassurance. "Hey," he whispers "It's going to be okay. I'm here with you, every step of the way. We'll get through this together, alright?"

The simple act of Lewis gently stopping her from biting her nail serves as a small anchor, bringing Y/n back from the edge of her nervousness. She glances at him, his steady presence offering a small sense of comfort. She nods subtly, her eyes reflecting a mix of gratitude and anxiety.

Y/n's breathing remains somewhat labored, the anxiety still coursing through her. Lewis takes her hand in his and begins rubbing his thumb against hers, a soothing motion that seems to ease her nerves, if only a little.

As she gazes at their intertwined hands, her eyes move up to the rings and tattoos adorning Lewis' fingers. The sight of them adds another layer to their carefully crafted pretense, the evidence of her supposed marriage right there on display for anyone who looks closely enough.

Their moment is interrupted as Y/n's mother walks into the living room. Her mother's presence brings Y/n back to reality, and the nerves come rushing back. She straightens up immediately, letting go of Lewis' hand to brush off any dust on her shirt and pants.

Y/n's mother enters the living room, her eyes lighting up as she sees her daughter and Lewis sitting together on the sofa. A warm smile graces her lips as she approaches them. "Hello, you two," she greets them, her voice filled with genuine affection.

As Y/m/n approaches, Y/n rises from the sofa, her movement slightly jerky due to her nerves. She tries to force a smile, hoping to appear normal, but the tension in her body is palpable.

Lewis follows Y/n as she nods, his hand gently moving to rest on her back, a small comfort in the face of the inevitable confrontation with her father.

He extends his hand towards Y/n's mother, his demeanor is polite and friendly. "Hello, it's lovely to meet you in person," he says with a warm smile. Y/n watches the interaction, her heart thumping loudly in her chest.

The introduction occurs, Lewis offering his hand in greeting and Y/n's mother shaking it warmly. Y/n stands nearby, the sound of her own heart pounding in her ears drowning out almost everything else.

As Lewis shakes her mother's hand and exchanges greetings, Y/n's heart pounds louder in her ears. Her eyes flicker between the two, the casual interaction between her mother and Lewis standing in stark contrast to the turmoil of emotions churning within her.

Y/n watches as Lewis engages in pleasantries with her mother, and the polite exchange is a far cry from the anxiety that grips Y/n's insides. The sound of their voices and the sight of their interaction blur into the background as Y/n struggles to keep herself together.

Y/m/n gestures towards the dining room, saying, "Follow me to the dining room, please. Your father will join us in about five minutes." With a nod, Y/n and Lewis follow silently behind her, the nerves tightening in Y/n's stomach.

Lewis takes Y/n's hand again, his touch providing a source of comfort in the midst of the mounting tension. With a subtle gesture, he begins rubbing his thumb against hers, offering a silent reassurance.

The gentle, soothing motion of Lewis rubbing her thumb helps to ground Y/n, and the simple action is a small balm against the anxiety that threatens to consume her. She glances at him, silently expressing her gratitude through her eyes.

They enter the dining room, and Lewis takes a seat next to Y/n, his presence a silent comfort. Y/n sits down across from her mother, leaving her father's chair vacant. The sight of the empty chair sends a jolt of anxiety through Y/n, her palms beginning to sweat.

Y/n sits across from her mother, her eyes darting to the empty chair that her father is bound to occupy shortly. The sight of the vacant seat is a ghost of the man who is about to confront the facade they've created. Y/n's palms begin to sweat, and the nervous energy builds rapidly within her.

The silence in the dining room is nearly deafening. Y/n's mother makes small talk, but Y/n's mind is elsewhere, consumed by the impending arrival of her father. She glances again at the empty chair, the seconds ticking by like hours as they wait for him to join them.

The wait seems endless, Y/n's mother's attempts at small talk falling on deaf ears as Y/n's mind races with thoughts. Every sound seems magnified, and every breath echoes. The empty chair looms over the table like a storm cloud, its absence speaking louder than any words could.

It seems almost too well-timed. Just as the silence is about to become unbearably awkward, the butlers enter the room, gracefully serving the meals that have been prepared. The aroma of the food fills the air, but Y/n's stomach is in knots, the thought of eating almost impossible.

As they express gratitude to the butlers, Y/n's father proceeds to place food on his plate, his hands moving deftly. Still in the midst of his task, he begins to ask questions, his voice laced with authority and curiosity.

Y/n's father continues to plate his food as he asks questions, his words almost nonchalant, but his tone hinting at hidden scrutiny. "So, Lewis, how did you and Y/n meet?"

Lewis responds calmly to Y/n's father's question, his tone matter-of-fact. "We met back in 2022, during Y/n's Christmas vacation," he says. "It was a coincidence, really. We just sorta bumped into each other and started talking."

Her father nods, seemingly taking in the information, still focused on loading food onto his plate. His next question comes with a hint of intensity, "And when did you decide to get married?"

Y/n's father's question about their marriage takes her slightly off-guard. As her mind races, she accidentally drops her spoon, the metallic clatter bouncing off the walls of the quiet dining room. Her heart sinks, the unexpected question leaving her feeling even more exposed.

Y/n apologizes for the dropped spoon, her voice a bit shaky. Lewis takes over, answering her father's question calmly. "We decided to get married after being engaged for two months," he explains. "We actually got married right before the off-season started. It was quite a whirlwind, to be honest."

Y/n's mother interjects, curious about the term 'off-season.' "What do you mean by off-season?" she asks, her tone casually curious.

Lewis responds to Y/n's mother's question, his tone casually informative. "The off-season is sort of like Christmas break," he says. "It's the time of year when school is out, and everything kind of slows down for a while."

Y/n's mother nods, absorbing the explanation, and then proceeds to take a bite of her food. She seems reasonably content with the answer, her focus shifting back to her meal.

Y/n's father, seemingly unsatisfied with the previous answers, resumes asking his questions. His gaze remains fixed on a spoonful of soup, but his voice drips with a sense of authoritative interrogation.

He continues to question Lewis, his eyes focused on his bowl of soup as his voice pierces the air. "So, you're an athlete, correct?" he asks, his tone suggesting he already knows the answer.

Lewis nods in confirmation, his demeanor still poised. "Yes, I am," he answers, his response firm.

Y/n's father persists with his questions, delving into practicalities. "How are you going to provide for Y/n when you're constantly traveling and training?" he probes, his tone skeptical.

Y/n's mother chimes in, gently nudging her husband and scolding him playfully. "Darling, you're acting as if Lewis is going to be your personal assistant," she admonishes, adding a little humor to the conversation.

Lewis chuckles lightly, finding a bit of humor in the situation. Y/n, on the other hand, lets out a somewhat awkward laugh, the tension still palpable beneath the facade of casual banter.

He responds to her father's question, his tone confident. "I have a well-established career, sir," he says. "I'm well-paid, and I can certainly provide for Y/n and any future family we might have."

As Lewis mentions potentially having a family, Y/n is caught off-guard and inadvertently causes herself to cough, the water going down the wrong pipe. She quickly composes herself while both their parents look at her in concern.

While Y/n recovers from her coughing fit, Lewis gently pats her back, a look of concern etched on his face. "Are you alright?" he asks, his voice laced with genuine worry.

Y/n responds nervously, her voice a bit shaky. "Yeah, I'm fine," she reassures, trying to brush off the incident, her eyes darting between Lewis, her parents, and the water in her glass.

Y/n's mother chimes in with a question, her tone light yet curious. "So, have you two thought about how big of a family you'd like to have?" she inquires, her eyes flitting between Lewis and Y/n.

Lewis expresses his thoughts on starting a family, his voice filled with warmth and optimism. "I'd really like a big family," he admits, "maybe 2-3 kids or more, and a few pets too. But ultimately, it'll be Y/n's call since she'll be the one carrying and giving birth to the children." He smiles affectionately at her, adding, "It's her decision, and I'll support whatever she chooses."

Y/n's gaze softens, her heart warmed by Lewis's words. Despite the awkward family setting, the way he looks at her, coupled with his last statement, touches her deeply. It's a small but significant gesture, emphasizing his support and understanding, something she didn't fully anticipate.

Y/n's father nods in approval, clearly satisfied with Lewis's response. "Good man," he remarks, appreciating the thoughtfulness behind Lewis's words. "Always considerate of your wife's feelings, as you should be."

As Y/n's father praises Lewis, a sigh of relief escapes her lips. The approval from her father seems to ease some of the tension, and she shoots Lewis a grateful glance, silently expressing her relief.

Y/n's mother chimes in with a question, her tone casual but slightly concerned. "Have you two thought about moving in together soon?" she asks. "I recall Y/n mentioning she's still staying with Lyka."

Y/n responds, her voice laced with a hint of anxiety, explaining the reasons behind their decision. "We haven't moved in together yet," she begins, "due to Lewis's job. With him traveling all over the world for most of the year, it would be quite lonely for me. I have some of my stuff at his place, but we agreed that I'll stay with him when he's home and stay at my apartment with Lyka when he's away."

The explanation seems to make sense to both Y/n's parents and her father nods in understanding. He seems to comprehend the challenges that come with Lewis's job, and the reasoning behind their living arrangement makes sense in their circumstances.

The dinner gradually comes to an end, and Y/n and Lewis bid farewell to her parents. There's a sense of relief in the air, mixed with a hint of lingering tension. As they part ways, Y/n's mother gives them both a warm smile, while her father offers a firm nod.

"Thanks," she says, smiling at his gesture, appreciating the small act of chivalry. She pulls out her phone from her bag before taking a seat in the car, the soft leather of the seats molding to her body.

As Lewis closes the car door, Y/n notices Lyka's name popping up on her phone's screen. She taps on the answer button, the phone pressed to her ear. "Hello?" she says, her voice slightly weary.

Lyka's voice comes through the line, sounding a mix of anxious and excited. "H-hi," she greets, her tone bordering on the guilty, like a child trying to conceal their mischief.

Y/n listens to Lyka's nervous greeting and responds, curiosity in her voice. "What's up?" she asks, setting the phone on speaker and placing it on the dash. Just as she does so, Lewis gets into the car, and they both focus on the now-speaker conversation.

Lyka's voice, sounding a bit unsure, asks, "Are you heading home now?" The question lingers in the air, suggesting that there may be something on Lyka's mind.

Y/n shoots Lewis a glance, their eyes meeting briefly as he maneuvers the car out of the gates. She's silent for a moment, contemplating Lyka's request and the implications of staying over at Lewis's place tonight.

Y/n turns her attention to Lewis, asking the question aloud, even though he had already overheard the conversation. She takes the phone off the dashboard, holding it in her hand as she speaks, her voice quieter than before. "Lyka's asking if I can stay over at your place tonight because Lando is a bit too drunk to go home."

Lewis responds, keeping his focus on the road, his voice calm and unwavering. "Sure," he says, seeming amenable to the idea. "You can stay over at my place tonight."

She relays the response to Lyka, conveying the okay from Lewis. "Okay," she says, her voice a bit lighter now. "I can stay at Lewis's place tonight."

Lyka's voice comes through the phone, brimming with gratitude and a hint of apology. "Thank you so much," she expresses, her tone sincere. "I'm really sorry for the sudden request. We just, uh…" Her voice trails off, leaving the rest unspoken.

Y/n chuckles, still on the phone with Lyka, and teases her gently. "Yeah, yeah, just make sure you take care of your 'boyfriend,'" she says, a hint of playfulness in her voice. "I'll be with Lewis."

Lyka's embarrassed screech comes through the phone, her voice full of flustered denial. "DUDE, SHUT UP!" she practically yells, her annoyance tinged with a hint of humor. "HE'S NOT MY BOYFRIEND!"

Y/n responds, a playful tone in her voice. "Yeah, yeah, whatever, Lyka," she teases. "You can tell that to the flowers he's been sending you every day." Her tone takes on a mock serious note. "Anyways, I've gotta go now."

Lyka's frustrated scream comes through the line, her voice muffled as she probably covers her face with her hands. Y/n laughs, having heard this reaction countless times over the years, knowing it's a clear sign of Lyka's embarrassment. "Bye," Lyka manages to say, her voice still tinged with flusteredness before ending the call.

Y/n looks at her phone, opening the text messages app to find the flurry of texts Lyka sent just moments ago before the call. Her eyes scan over the screen, curious to see what kind of messages her flustered best friend sent, no doubt venting about what was happening.

Lewis breaks the brief silence that had settled in the car, starting with a casual, "So…" His tone is conversational, suggesting he has something to talk about. He keeps his focus on the road, but his voice is filled with curiosity and a hint of anticipation.

Y/n sighs, her voice tinged with a mix of resignation and uncertainty. She closes her phone screen, resting it on her lap before responding. "Honestly, I'm not even sure," she admits, her tone reflecting a hint of frustration at her friends' complex relationship.

Y/n tries to explain the complicated nature of Lyka and Lando's relationship, her voice trying to convey the complexity of it all. "They're more than friends, but less than lovers," she clarifies, her tone thoughtful. "It's a bit confusing, really. They're stuck somewhere in between."

Lewis chuckles, reflecting on the implications of the "stuck in between" situation. He offers a playful observation. "Well, that could go one of two ways, right?" he muses. "Either it's really good, or really bad."

Y/n smirks, agreeing with Lewis's assessment. "Yeah, you're right," she concedes, her voice hinting at the complexities of Lyka and Lando's dynamics. "It's either going to work out amazingly or explode in their faces."

The car falls back into a moment of silence, the low hum of the engine filling the space. Lewis keeps driving, his focus on the road, his mind likely contemplating the complexities of relationships and the uncertainty of the future.

Y/n breaks the silence again, her voice carrying a hint of hesitation. "Uh…" she begins, her tone a bit uncertain, but there's a question lingering behind it.

Y/n's voice softens with gratitude as she addresses Lewis, her tone sincere. "Thanks," she says, her appreciation evident. "For, you know, not making a big deal about me staying over."

Y/n's voice takes on a more grateful tone, her appreciation clear. "And thank you for saving my ass at the dinner," she says, a hint of relief in her voice. "I really appreciate you having my back."

Lewis responds with a warm smile, his tone easy and hospitable. "It's no problem, sweetheart," he says. "You're always welcome at my place, even when I'm not around. I'll give you a key soon so you can come and go as you please."

Y/n turns her head swiftly, her gaze now locked on him. She repeats his term of endearment, "Sweetheart?" Her voice is tinged with a hint of surprise, her head slightly tilted to the side as she processes the familiarity of the word coming from his lips.

Lewis's eyes widen momentarily upon hearing her question, clearly surprised by the inquiry. He quickly recovers and responds, his tone questioning yet gentle, "Oh, is it okay if I call you that?" His voice carries a note of concern, clearly wanting to ensure he hasn't crossed any boundaries.

She lets out a soft laugh, the tension easing away. "Yeah, it's fine," she assures him, her tone tinged with a hint of amusement. "It's actually better that way. I won't be caught off guard when you call me that in public. It'll make our act more believable for the press."

Lewis nods, the concern in his eyes replaced by a hint of relief and a touch of playfulness. "That's true," he agrees, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "It'll make it more convincing when we're around people. Plus, it's kind of nice…" His voice trails off, a slight implication behind his words.

A smile dances on Y/n’s lips, and she decides to tease him a bit. “Oh really? I feel like you have a big crush on me Sir Lewis,” she asks, feigning surprise, her tone lighthearted. Her eyes glimmer with playfulness, expecting him to respond with a playful banter.

His voice takes on a playfully challenging tone as he responds to Y/n’s teasing question. “And what if I do?” he says, his eyes briefly meeting hers before turning back to the road. “What would you do about it?” There’s a hint of a challenge in his tone but also a flicker of genuine curiosity, as if he’s eager to see how she would react if her teasing was based on truth.

Y/n responds with confidence, her eyes locked into his. “Oh, I have a few ideas,” she says, her tone dripping with a hint of mystery. Her voice drops lower, filled with playful tease, as if she’s already planning something.

Lewis raises an eyebrow, his interest piqued by Y/n’s response. He can’t help but wonder what kind of ideas she has in mind. “Oh yeah? And what ideas do you have in that pretty mind of yours, sweetheart?” he asks, a smile playing on his lips.

Her smile widens, her eyes glimmering mischievously. She remains coy, not revealing too much. “Oh, I can’t give away all my secrets,” she teases, her voice playful. “You’ll have to wait and find out.”

Lewis chuckles, enjoying the banter between them. "Fair enough," he responds, his tone playful. "I guess I'll just have to wait and see what you have up your sleeve, sweetheart."

Y/n smirks at the term of endearment, the name rolling off his tongue with a familiar ease. "Oh, you'll see," she teases back, her voice filled with confidence. "I promise it'll be worth the wait."

Lewis brings the car into the parking lot of the condominium building, the wheels smoothly coming to a stop. He turns off the engine, the sound of the vehicle falling silent as he shifts his gaze over to Y/n sitting next to him.

"We're here," he announces, his tone casual. He unbuckles his seatbelt and glances over at Y/n. "Ready to head inside?"

Y/n nods, the teasing banter settling into a comfortable quiet. She unbuckles her own seatbelt and prepares to get out of the car. "Yeah, let's go."

Lewis opens the car door and steps out, stretching briefly before closing the door behind him. He then walks over to Y/n's side and opens the passenger door for her, offering his hand to help her out of the car.

She smiles appreciatively, taking his hand and stepping out of the car. "Thank you," she says, her voice tinged with gratefulness. She then follows him as they head towards the entrance of the condominium building.

As they walk into Lewis's penthouse, the faint sound of a low thumping becomes perceptible. Y/n glances around, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise. She looks over at Lewis, a quizzical expression on her face, silently asking if he hears it too.

Lewis catches Y/n's curious look and can't help but smile to himself, fully aware of what's about to occur. He says nothing for a moment, amused by the fact that she hasn't figured it out yet.

Out of nowhere, a chubby bulldog appears, sprinting toward Lewis with excitement. Its short, muscular legs carry it swiftly across the floor, its paws creating a thumping sound as they hit the ground. The bulldog clearly recognizes its owner and makes a beeline straight for him, tail wagging joyfully.

Lewis crouches down to meet Roscoe, his face breaking into a wide smile as the dog happily rolls onto his belly, begging for some attention. Lewis laughs and begins to scratch the dog's belly, his fingers rubbing the animal's belly fur affectionately.

"Hey, buddy," Lewis coos affectionately, his voice filled with warmth as he speaks to Roscoe. "Did you miss me?" The bulldog responds with a slobbery grin and continues to wiggle his short, stub tail on the floor in bliss.

Roscoe looks up at Lewis with big, soulful eyes, his tongue hanging out, clearly thrilled to be in the presence of his owner. He playfully licks Lewis's hand, expressing his happiness in the only way he knows how.

Roscoe, in the middle of his display of excitement towards Lewis, suddenly halts, his furry head tilting to the side as he notices Y/n's presence. His wide eyes focus on her, his gaze inquisitive and a little cautious, as if wondering who this new person in his home is.

Y/n stands there, a mix of surprise and uncertainty on her face, not quite knowing how to greet the curious bulldog. She looks over at Lewis, silently seeking some guidance on how to approach his pet.

He notices the change in Roscoe's behavior and the puzzled look on Y/n's face. He stands up and gestures for her to come closer, a reassuring smile on his face. "It's okay," he says, his tone comforting. "He's just curious. Come closer."

Y/n steps closer, her nerves palpable as she admits to Lewis that she isn't particularly fond of dogs. "Um, is this a good time to say I'm not really a dog person?" she mumbles, her voice tinged with slight unease.

Lewis chuckles, a mix of amusement and understanding in his eyes. He glances down at Roscoe, who is still sitting and watching Y/n intently. "Oh, really? Well, that might be a problem," he teases jokingly.

She cautiously moves closer and gives Roscoe a tentative pat on the head, her touch light and tentative. The bulldog responds by closing his eyes in the pleasure of the unexpected attention, his stumpy tail wagging once again as he basks in the affection.

Lewis watches the interaction and smiles, finding the scene amusing yet endearing. "See?" he says, his voice encouraging. "He likes you already."

He stands up, motioning for Y/n to follow him into the kitchen. "C'mon," he says, gesturing towards the kitchen. "I'll grab us some drinks."

Y/n follows Lewis into the kitchen, her face transforming into a surprised smile as she asks a question. "Why do we need drinks?" There's a hint of curiosity in her voice, as if she's secretly hoping for a particular reason.

Lewis uncorks the bottle, taking out two wine glasses from the overhead cabinet. As he pours the wine into the glasses, he glances over at Y/n, his eyes holding a playful twinkle. "Besides," he says, a sly smile on his lips, "we need to celebrate our marriage properly, don't we?"

He passes a wine glass to her, his fingertips lightly brushing against hers for a moment as he does so. The atmosphere in the kitchen suddenly feels a tad heated as the implications of his words hang in the air between them.

Y/n takes the offered glass, her heart skipping a beat as their fingers touch briefly. The look in his eyes and the undercurrent of flirtation in his tone are hard to ignore. The words "we need to celebrate our marriage properly" echo in her head, causing a flutter of anticipation in her stomach.

Lewis pours himself a glass of wine, then pours another for Y/n as she settles into her seat. He moves around the counter, the wine glass in his hand, and takes a seat next to her. The silence is comfortable, but the air is charged with a simmering tension, the earlier flirtation not yet faded.

Y/n holds up her wine glass, lifting it slightly in his direction. "Cheers," she says, her voice carrying a note of excitement. The clinking sound of their glasses meeting fills the air, the act oddly intimate and charged with unspoken desires.

Their eyes meet over the rims of their glasses, the moment charged with a mix of tension and anticipation. Y/n takes a sip of her wine, the liquid smooth and cool as it touches her lips, but it's the man sitting next to her that leaves her feeling flushed and warm.

Time has passed, and the wine has taken its toll. Both Y/n and Lewis are visibly tipsy, their cheeks flushed and their inhibitions lowered. She finds herself in a slightly drunken state, her speech more slurry than Lewis's. They're exchanging stories, the wine loosening their tongues and making them more susceptible to sharing their secrets and embarrassing anecdotes.

Y/n continues her story, her voice a bit slurry from the wine but filled with amusement. "So, there I was, planning to go grocery shopping, right? But then Lyka calls and invites me out for drinks. And well, as you can imagine, one drink turns into several, and the next thing I know, it's been three hours. I completely forgot about the grocery shopping. Then, instead of coming home with actual groceries, I end up bringing home this stray white cat I found. And thus, my cat Extra Virgin Olive Oil was born."

Lewis can't help but chuckle lightly as he listens to Y/n's story, finding it both absurd and endearing. He leans his face against his palm, his elbow propped up on the counter, his eyes sparkling with tipsy amusement. He glances at her, a lazy smile playing on his lips. "You named your cat what?" he asks, his voice tinged with playful disbelief.

His laughter continues, the image of Y/n coming home with a cat instead of groceries amusing him more than it probably should in his current state of drunkenness. "You named your cat Extra Virgin Olive Oil because you forgot about grocery shopping and got drunk instead?" he asks, grinning widely, clearly finding the situation hilarious.

Y/n grins widely, nodding enthusiastically in affirmation. "Yep, that's right," she says, her voice filled with tipsy mirth. "Extra Virgin Olive Oil. And let me tell you, he's the most spoiled cat ever. All because I couldn't stick to my grocery shopping plans."

She feels a sudden brush of fur against her leg, her gaze dropping down. But before she can even react, Roscoe takes off like a shot, darting away with one of her high heels clenched in his mouth. Y/n's eyes widen, and a tipsy laugh escapes her lips.

Y/n jumps out of her seat, a tipsy grin on her face. "Roscoe!" she yells, giggling as she tries to catch the dog who's now prancing away with her high heel. Lewis watches the scene unfold, his laughter joining hers, finding the whole situation hilariously adorable.

Y/n's pursuit of Roscoe continues, her steps a bit unsteady from the alcohol. She tries to catch him, but her foot catches on the edge of the rug, her already tipsy balance getting the better of her. She trips over, her body stumbling forward, a yelp of surprise escaping her.

Lewis sees Y/n's fall, her carefree chase after the dog abruptly interrupted by her slip on the rug. He gets up from his seat, a slight worry crossing his face. But before he can make a move, Y/n raises an arm up from the floor, and yells out, "I'm okay!" Her voice is slightly slurred but there's a sense of pride in her tone, as if she's proud of her resilient demeanor despite her tipsy state.

As she stands up with a wide smile on her face, she doesn't realize the small cut on her elbow until Lewis points it out. Y/n glances down, noticing the slight trickle of blood on her arm. She touches the spot, a little surprised, but the alcohol has numbed the pain, giving her a false sense of invincibility. She giggles, looking at the cut with amused detachment.

Despite her stumble and the small cut on her elbow, Y/n's demeanor remains carefree, her eyes blinking in a slightly confused manner. The alcohol has dulled her senses, so pain feels distant and the reality of the fall hasn't quite registered in her mind yet. She looks up at Lewis, a slightly bewildered expression on her face as if she's not quite sure how she ended up on the floor in the first place.

Lewis lets out a small, playful exhale and saunters over to Y/n, gesturing for her to sit on the couch. "Alright, come on, sit down," he instructs, his voice laced with a hint of amused frustration. He guides her over to the couch, steadying her a bit as she clumsily flops down onto the cushions.

He turns away, giving her a warm smile, and says, "Okay, sit tight. I'll be right back. I'll get a bandage for that cut on your elbow." He strides out of the room, leaving Y/n slumped on the couch, a little drunk and a bit bewildered.

Y/n lounges on the couch in a slightly disheveled manner, her body stretched out like a starfish. She looks like a ragdoll, her limbs flung about in a completely comfortable yet chaotic way. The alcohol has made her feel relaxed and carefree, completely unbothered by the fact that she's lying haphazardly on the couch, waiting for Lewis to return with a bandage for her now-forgotten cut.

After 5 minutes, Lewis enters the room carrying a small first-aid kit. He looks over at Y/n, noticing that she's a bit more composed compared to a few moments ago. The alcohol's effect seems to have subsided a bit, perhaps due to the short break in time. He walks over to her, sitting down on the couch next to her, the first-aid Kit in his hand.

"Seems like you're getting a bit more sober now," he observes, his tone gentle as he opens the first-aid kit. He takes out an antiseptic wipe and a small adhesive bandage, preparing to clean and cover the cut on her elbow.

"Hold still for a moment," he says, his voice soft. He gently takes her arm and begins cleaning the wound with the antiseptic wipe. The cool touch of the solution stings a little, but he's careful not to cause her any unnecessary pain.

Y/n winces a bit as the antiseptic wipe touches the cut, a small "ow" escaping her lips. The alcohol has numbed her a bit, but the sting of the antiseptic still registers. She looks at her arm, watching as Lewis carefully cleans the cut, his touch light yet deliberate.

"It's alright," he soothes, his tone gentle. "I'm almost done." He continues to clean the cut, making sure it's free of any dirt or debris before gently placing the bandaid over the cut. His touch is light and careful, his fingers grazing the soft skin of her arm.

Once the bandaid is placed, he gently pats the area around the cut, securing it in place. He then releases her arm, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. He looks up at her, a small, reassuring smile on his lips.

Y/n gazes at Lewis, her eyes studying his face intently. She takes in every detail - the curve of his lips, the flecks of gold in his eyes, the slight stubble on his chin. The alcohol still in her system has lowered her inhibitions, making her bolder and more observant. She continues to stare at him, not saying a word.

Lewis notices Y/n's unwavering gaze, her eyes taking in every feature of his face. He raises an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity in his expression. Seeing her silent observation, he jokingly asks, "Got something on my face?" His voice is light, and his words are filled with humor.

Y/n shakes her head, continuing her silent observation, her gaze still fixated on his features. And then, in a surprising move, she leans forward, her lips brushing against his in a soft, slow kiss. The alcohol in her system lowers her inhibitions, making her actions more impulsive and carefree. The kiss is unexpected but filled with an undercurrent of desire and affection.

Lewis is taken aback for a moment, caught off guard by her unexpected kiss. But then, he relaxes into it, his eyes closing as he responds to her contact. His hand comes up to cup the back of her head, his fingers lightly brushing through her hair. The kiss deepens, the alcohol in their systems making it heady and impulsive.

Y/n, emboldened by the alcohol and the heat of the moment, makes another bold move. Without breaking the kiss, she shifts her position, straddling his lap, a leg on either side of him. Her body presses against his, her hands on his shoulders, pulling him closer as she continues kissing him, her actions driven by a combination of intoxication and desire.

She suddenly pulls away from the kiss, the reality of her actions sinking in. Her blush spreads across her face, a mixture of embarrassment and desire filling her. She looks at him, her eyes wide, her breathing slightly ragged from the intensity of the kiss. The alcohol in her system has lowered her inhibitions, making her bolder and more impetuous, but she still feels a mix of shyness and confusion at her own behavior.

Lewis looks at Y/n, a hint of confusion and surprise in his eyes. He gently cups her face with his hand, his thumb tracing the contour of her cheek. He asks her softly, "Why did you stop?" His voice is a mix of curiosity and tenderness, his gaze holding hers as he waits for her response.

Despite the buzz of alcohol in her system, Y/n hesitates, her actions and her desires at war within her. The kiss had been spontaneous, driven by a heady mixture of alcohol and desire, but now she feels a sense of self-consciousness and insecurity. Her blush deepens under his touch, and she looks into his eyes, trying to find the words to explain her sudden break in their intimate moment.

"I…I don't know," she stutters out, her voice small and unsure. "It's just…I don't know…" Her gaze flickers away from his, unable to hold his intense, questioning stare. The alcohol and the heat of the moment have made her impulsive, but now she feels exposed, vulnerable in her straddling position, her guard faltering under his soft but insistent touch.

Lewis gives her a reassuring smile, his hand still cupping her face. Seeing her hesitant, he gently draws her back towards him, his other hand coming up to rest on her hip. He pulls her down, bringing her face closer to his, and kisses her again, his lips pressing against hers with a soft but determined pressure. The kiss is slow, tender, and deliberate, his tongue slipping out to caress her lower lip, seeking more.

With a swift movement, Lewis stands up, still not breaking the kiss, his hands holding onto Y/n's thighs to keep her stable. The shift in positioning causes her to tighten her arms around his neck, and their bodies press even closer together. Lewis's grip is firm but gentle, his strength evident as he holds her up with ease, the kiss continuing unhindered.

He walks with purpose towards the bedroom door, his strength and balance holding Y/n securely in his arms. In a move that seems completely effortless, he keeps one hand on her thigh, supporting her weight, while his other free hand reaches out, unlocks the door, and swings it open. He strides across the threshold, carrying her into the room, the kiss never once breaking.

Inside the bedroom, he kicks the door closed behind them, shutting out the rest of the world. The only sounds filling the room are the soft gasps and sighs exchanged between them as the kiss deepens, fueled by a heady mixture of desire and alcohol. Lewis shifts his grip slightly, his hand sliding from her thigh to her waist, holding her steadily as he guides her towards the bed.

Lewis gently sets Y/n down on her feet, helping her regain her balance. Then, with a soft yet firm pressure on her shoulders, he eases her backward until she sits on the edge of the bed. He stands in front of her, his body looming over hers in a way that is both dominant and protective. He looks down at her, his gaze darkened with desire, his breathing slightly heavy.

With a subtle but deliberate action, Lewis's hand moves up to Y/n's neck, his fingers wrapping around the delicate skin in a light but firm grip. He squeezes gently, not enough to cut off her air, but enough to assert a sense of control and possessiveness. The kiss that follows is quick, fierce, and possessive, his tongue invading her mouth in a dominant, needy manner.

Y/n whimpers into the kiss, the sound caught between a protest and a moan of pleasure. Lewis's dominant grip on her neck, the way he claims her mouth in a possessive kiss, fuels the fire within her. Her hands come up to cling to his shoulders, the mixture of pleasure and submission washing over her in waves.

Too caught up in the intensity of the moment, she grips the loops of Lewis's pants, her fingers hooking onto them as if anchoring herself. The action is both needy and desperate, a silent plea for more as she looks up at him, her eyes burning with desire and anticipation.

Lewis glances down at Y/n, noticing her fingers gripping his pant loops, a small, amused smile playing on his lips. Teasingly, he leans down, his face close to hers, and whispers, "So needy, aren't you?" His voice is a low, gravelly murmur, his words carrying a hint of possessive satisfaction.

She looks up at Lewis with wide, innocent, doe-like eyes, her expression a mixture of need and submission. She doesn't respond, her voice caught in her throat, but her grip on his pant loops tightens just a fraction, her body silently begging for more. The contrast between her innocent gaze and her needy actions is striking, and the heat in her eyes speaks volumes.

Lewis continues to look down at her, his eyes taking in her beautiful, vulnerable expression. He reaches out a hand, tracing the line of her neck with his fingers, but the touch light is barely there. He can hear her soft, ragged breaths, can feel her pulse quickening under his touch, and his own need, his own desire, increases exponentially.

He leans in, his lips moving to her ear, his breath against her skin as he whispers, "You're so gorgeous like this, so needy for me." He kisses her ear, his lips moving down to her jaw, leaving a trail of soft, hot kisses down the delicate curve of her neck.

Lewis continues to kiss along her neck, his mouth nipping and sucking gently at her skin, his tongue darting out to taste her sweetness. His hands slide down her body, caressing her sides, his touch both tender and possessive, his own need growing with every soft sound that escapes her lips.

He bites gently at her pulse point, a small, possessive act that makes her gasp and whine softly. His hands move to the hem of her shirt, his fingers tracing the line of exposed skin, his touch both gentle and firm. "I want you," he whispers against her skin, his voice rough and full of desire, "so badly."

His hands slide underneath her shirt, his palms pressing against her skin, feeling her warmth and softness against his touch. He feels her shiver at the contact, her body responding to his touch like a perfectly tuned instrument. He kisses her collarbone, his mouth moving down to the hollow of her throat, his lips trailing along her skin with increasing need.

His hands move higher, his fingers tracing the contour of her stomach, her ribcage, her breasts. He feels her arch into his touch, her body craving more contact, more of his touch, his caress, his attention. He can feel her need, her desire, the way her breath hitches at his touch, and it only fuels his own fire, his own burning need for her.

Lewis pushes her gently back onto the bed, his body hovering over her, his weight propped up on his forearms. He looks down at her, his eyes roaming over her face, her body, taking in the sight of her beneath him, soft and yielding, yet filled with an undeniable fire and desire.

His fingers move to the buttons of her shirt, his touch slow and deliberate as he unfastens them one by one, revealing her bare skin inch by inch, his lips following the path of his fingers, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along her skin.

Y/n's breathing becomes ragged as Lewis' hands reach the last button, freeing her breasts from the confines of her shirt. She pushes the fabric off her shoulders, tossing it aside, her nipples hard and aching for his touch.

Lewis' hands cup her breasts, his thumbs teasing her sensitive nipples. Y/n moans, her head falling back as she arches into his touch. Her hands roam over his body, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants.

She slides her hand inside, gripping his erection through his boxers. Lewis groans, his hips bucking into her hand. Y/n pulls him closer, their lips meeting in a rushed kiss as she fumbles with his boxers, freeing his hard cock.

She strokes him slowly, her thumb rubbing over the head, making him moan into her mouth. Lewi's hands leave her breasts, training down her sides to her waistband. He hooks his thumbs into her pants, pulling them down her legs, leaving her completely naked.

Y/n steps out of her pants, her body trembling with desire. Lewis' eyes roam over her, drinking in the sight of her before he pulls her back against him. He reaches around, unfastening his braided belt, letting it fall to the floor.

He pushes her onto the bed, following her down, his lips trailing kisses down her neck, his hand guiding his cock to her entrance. Y/n's breath hitches, her legs parting, welcoming him.

Lewis positions himself at her entrance, his eyes locked on hers, filled with lust and desire. He pushes inside her, slowly at first, allowing her body to adjust to his size. Y/n gasps, her nails digging into the sheets as he fills her completely.

Y/n bites her lip, her eyes widening as she feels the full extent of Lewis' size. "Fuck, you're huge," she hisses, a mixture of pain and pleasure coursing through her.

Lewis smirks, his hands gripping her hips as he begins to thrust, his rhythm slow and deliberate. "Like it sweetheart?" he growls, his voice deep and seductive.

Y/n nods, her eyes fluttering shut as she adjusts to his size. "Yeah, I... I love it," she admits, her voice breathy and needy.

Lewis grins, his hand sliding around Y/n's neck, applying gentle pressure. "Good," he murmurs, his thrusts growing faster and more forceful.

Y/n's eyes widen at the added sensation, her body arching off the bed as her arousal intensifies. "Lewis," she whispers, her nails digging into his back, "don't stop."

He doesn't, his thrusts becoming more aggressive, his hand tightening around her neck just enough to heighten her arousal. Y/n's moans grow louder, her body trembling in anticipation of her impending orgasm.

Y/n's voice is barely a whisper as she gasps, "I'm... I'm close, Lewis."

Lewis, however, is lost in the sensations, his focus solely on the feel of Y/n's tight, wet pussy wrapped around his cock. He continues to thrust, his hand still tightly around her neck, his body moving in perfect unison with hers.

Y/n's orgasm hits her like a tidal wave, her body convulsing as she cries out, her nails digging into Lewis' bicep. Her walls clench around his cock, milking him as he continues to thrust.

Lewis' thrusts grow more erratic, his grip on Y/n's neck tightening as he feels her orgasm grip his cock. Her shaking only serves to fuel his desire, his release drawing near.

He pulls out of her, Y/n's protest cut off by the loss of his cock. He positions himself at her entrance once more, his cock glistening with her juices. "On your knees, sweetheart," he commands, his voice thick with lust.

Y/n obeys, her body still trembling as she gets onto her hands and knees. Lewis lines up his cock with her wet pussy, thrusting back inside her, this time from behind.

His hand leaves her neck, instead gripping her hair, pulling her head back as he begins fuck her with renewed vigor. Y/n's moans fill the room, her body responding to her every thrust,

Lewis' thrusts become more rushed, his breathing heavy. "You're such a good girl, taking my big cock like that," he praises, his voice thick with desire.

Y/n's body shudders, her arousal building once more as she feels him fill her from behind. "Mmm, Lewis," she moans, her voice thick with lust.

Lewis' hand tightens in her hair, his thrusts growing more urgent. "Cum for me, sweetheart. Cum for me one more time," he says, voice a mixture of command and desire.

Y/n's body responds to his words, her orgasm building once more. "I... I'm close," she gasps, her nails digging into the bedsheets.

Lewis feels his own release building, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "Come for me," he demands, his cock pulsing inside her.

Y/n's body convulses, her orgasm washing over her like a tidal wave. Lewis can no longer hold back, his cock pulsing as he releases his hot seed deep inside her. He collapses onto her back, his breathing heavy as he tries to regain his composure.

Her body shudders, her mind swimming in the aftermath of her orgasm. Lewis slowly pulls out of her, his cock leaving a trail of cum between her legs. He rolls off her, pulling her into his arms, their bodies entwined.

They lie there, their bodies intertwined in the aftermath of their passionate encounter. Both are out of breath, their hearts still racing from the intensity of the experience. Lewis is holding Y/n close, her head resting on his chest, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her back. The room is quiet, the only sound being their ragged breathing, the sound gradually slowing and evening out as they regain their composure.

Y/n breaks the silence, her voice a bit hoarse but weary. She looks up at Lewis, her head still pillowed on his chest, and says, "That sobered me up real fast." Her words are a mixture of exhaustion and satiation, the aftermath of their passionate encounter leaving her both depleted and fulfilled.

Lewis gives a soft laugh, his fingers still tracing patterns on her back. He nods, agreeing with her words. "I guess that's one way to sober up," he replies, his voice still a little breathless. He gently brushes a stray strand of hair from her face, his touch soft and affectionate.

Y/n jokes, a weary but playful smile on her face. "Well," she says, "that was like our very own little honeymoon night, wasn't it?" Her comment, although lighthearted, carries a hint of seriousness, a nod to the intense and passionate connection they had just shared.

Lewis chuckles softly, a smile on his lips. He gently pulls her closer, his arms tightening around her. "I guess you could say that," he responds, his voice warm and gentle. "We definitely made some memories tonight." He looks down at her, his gaze filled with tenderness and affection.

Y/n hisses as she adjusts her position, a slight wince on her face. Her body is likely still sensitive from their passionate encounter, and she moves gingerly, trying to find a more comfortable position.

Lewis notices her hiss and the wince on her face, his expression immediately becoming one of concern. He asks her gently, "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" His voice is laced with worry and concern, his fingers lightly coming up to caress her cheek.

Y/n shakes her head, her eyes meeting his. "No, I'm alright," she reassures him. "Just a little sore, I guess. But it was worth it," she adds with a sleepy smile.

Lewis continues to look at her, his eyes searching her face for any signs of discomfort. He asks again, his voice filled with concern, "Are you sure you're alright? Soreness is normal, but I don't want to hurt you." He gently tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch tender and caring.

Y/n nods, a small smile on her face, and jokingly says, "Well, I guess there's an easy fix for that. Just take me out on a shopping spree, and I'll feel like a million bucks again." Her tone is light and humorous, indicating that she's not entirely serious but also hinting at her desire for some pampering and shopping therapy.

Without hesitation, Lewis reaches for the nightstand near the bed and grabs his wallet. He opens it and pulls out a credit card, then hands it to Y/n with a smile. "There," he says, his voice lighthearted, "your ticket to feeling a million bucks. Go wild."

Y/n's eyes widened as she took his credit card. She playfully gasps, a mischievous smile on her face. "Are you serious? You're giving me carte blanche with this?" she says, holding the card up and examining it like it's a precious gem.

Lewis nods, a smirk on his face. "Dead serious," he confirms, leaning back against the headboard. "Go nuts. Buy whatever you want, and don't hold back. It's on me."

Y/n places the credit card on the nightstand, her smile playful. "Oh, it can definitely wait till tomorrow," she says. "I think we should both rest and recover from tonight's… activities." Her tone is teasing, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of exhaustion and satisfaction.

Lewis chuckles, a knowing smile on his face. "I agree," he replies, his voice deep and gravelly. "We definitely need some rest after tonight. But tomorrow…tomorrow is all yours. Shopping sprees, pampering, the works. I can't have you sore for too long, can I?"

Y/n smirks at his words, her eyes narrowing mischievously. "You know, you might be starting to regret giving me that credit card already," she teases. "You're creating a little monster here."

Lewis laughs heartily. "Oh, I'm fully aware of the monster I'm creating," he replies, still sporting a smile. "But honestly, I find it kind of hot. The thought of you going on a shopping spree, spending my money without a care in the world… it's strangely alluring."

Y/n teases, a mischievous grin on her face. "Oh, don't worry, I plan on getting something for you too," she says. "After all, a good shopping spree isn't complete without a little gift for the guy who's footing the bill."

Lewis pulls her back towards him, drawing her close against his chest. He settles back against the pillows, his arm wrapping around her in a protective, comforting embrace. Y/n's head rests against his chest, her body tucked snugly against his, and he gently kisses the top of her head. "Sweet dreams," he whispers, his voice soft and affectionate.

yn.ln

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[glasvera]

Dream and Sugar

Adam Warlock x Fem!Reader

Description: (Sequel to Bittersweet!) Adam Warlock has discovered the wonders of coffee... but he has yet to discover just what it is about you that brings him all the way back to see you.

Warnings/Disclaimers: Fluff! Lil' bit of slow-burn too, or at least, as slow as you can get with a man who is very direct with his words and intentions.

A/N: Writing Adam Warlock at this point feels like I'm returning home. I've never written for so many characters in a piece of media before, and I'm absolutely LOVING it, but whenever I need a palette cleanser for writing I keep coming back to my favorite golden boy. I'll probably use this series for that very purpose, to be honest.

Word Count: 3.5k

To be honest, you hadn’t expected to see him again. Not outside of your dreams, at least. It was almost pitiful how much he had wormed into your thoughts after only meeting him once. Though, in your defense, he really was the picture of perfection.

It had been a few months, and business had returned to the town’s favorite cafe. The cold, rainy weather was nippy but far from a deterrent, and people flocked here hour after hour to dry off and warm themselves up with a hot cup of coffee. It keeps your mind busy, at least. Not much time to pine after a golden space man when you have ten different lattes waiting to be made. And goodness knows you were thankful for the bustling crowd that drowned out the boss’s smooth jazz playlist.

“Excuse me, is Y/N here?”

The cocktail party effect is a strange phenomenon, but you’re so thankful for it when your ears perk up at the sound of a deep, smooth voice. You can’t quite see around the corner of the kitchen and your hands are full at the moment with orders, but you do hear the way your coworker’s voice picks up in pitch the way she always does when there’s a hot guy at the counter.

“Oh, are you a friend of hers?” you hear her ask, and you roll your eyes. You can already envision her twirling her hair, giving him a little giggle… 

“I… perhaps. You did not answer my question.”

Oh yeah. That’s definitely him. Butterflies explode in your chest and you nearly fumble and drop the drink you were carrying. Your coworker sighs, clearly put off by his obliviousness at her attempts to flirt with him.

“Yeah, she’s in the back. Hey, Y/N!”

You scramble to finish what you’re doing, or, at least, get to a stopping point, before you peek your head through the doorway.

And gods, he’s just as gorgeous as you remember.

White gold eyes flicker over to your face as you give him a small wave, and a wide smile spreads across his cheeks. He’s dressed much differently this time, and you’re almost disappointed to see him in a red shirt underneath a black, fur lined winter coat, even if he does look good in it. Though, you suppose, it’s probably for the best. At least you could picture what was underneath.

“Y/N!” he exclaims excitedly. “I came back!” Oh, he’s too adorable. A golden retriever in a man’s body. He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, and you could easily imagine a big fluffy tail wagging behind him.

You step closer to the counter, stifling a giggle at his enthusiasm. “I’m happy to see you, Mister Warlock.”

“Please, just Adam,” he urges. “I think we are friendly enough for that, at least.”

Were you? Well, you certainly weren’t gonna argue. The thought of it makes you giddy.

Your coworker’s exaggerated sigh brings you back to reality. “Y/N, can you not, like, wait until break or something? We’re kinda swamped.”

Even if you detest her bitchy attitude, you can’t deny that the line forming behind Adam is only getting longer and more irritated. “Oh, I--yeah, you’re right.” Adam looks slightly perplexed, cocking his head to the side as he watches you move about. You give him a wry smile. “Sorry, I… my shift ends in an hour. I’d hate to ask you to wait, but--”

“I have the entire day to myself. I would be happy to wait,” he responds quickly, dismissing your worries in an instant with his voice. He really had come out all this way to see you, hadn’t he? You can’t stop the blush from warming your cheeks at this realization. Though, it was more likely he’d come seeking the “resident coffee expert” as he had so aptly put it before. Still, the thought excited you, and you nod.

“Sounds good. I’ll see you in an hour!”

-----

It really was the longest hour of your life. Shifts like this usually fly by with how busy you are, but every time you bring out an order and call for the person’s name, you catch a glimpse of Adam lounging in one of the corner couches. He seems to keep to himself, even if his boredom is palpable. At one point you see him reading a fashion magazine with an eyebrow raised, and the next he’s nose deep in a years old issue of Entertainment Weekly. Man, your boss really needed to swap some of those out.

When your shift is finally coming to an end, you ask one of your other coworkers to put together your usual while you start concocting something for Adam. From your last encounter, you remember him liking his coffee blonde and sweet, so you decide to treat him to the wonders of syrups as you add a bit of brown sugar and caramel.

“So… how did you two meet?” one of your nicer yet nosier coworkers asks as he elbows you playfully. He waggles his eyebrows over in Adam’s direction, and you purse your lips before huffing a laugh through your nose.

“It’s not like that,” you clarify as you throw your jacket over your arms.

“Really? Because I'd be all over that in a heartbeat,” he replies with a hand over his chest. “What is he, made out of pure gold or something? And that voice!”

“Stop!” you exclaim with a laugh. “Believe me, I wish it was. I've literally only met him once before, right after downtown got totally wrecked. He's one of the guys who saved the day.”

“That's one of the Guardians of the Galaxy? Shit, girl, you better act fast,” he teases as you grab your bag and your coffees. You titter and shake your head, but you can't deny the rush you feel knowing that someone as well-known and beloved as Adam Warlock had come to see you personally. Maybe you had a chance with him, after all.

Or maybe you're just delusional and this perfect golden man is very friendly.

Adam's head pops up excitedly from the magazine he's reading when you approach. This time it’s Sports Illustrated, and you can't help but notice he almost seems relieved to have his attention pulled away from it.

“Ah, there you are,” he greets you with a warm smile as he stands, neatly replacing the magazine in its wooden cubby.

“How many of those did you go through?” you find yourself asking as you point to the small stack.

His cheeks turn a dark copper. A blush? He clears his throat. “I… all of them. I fear there is little to do here if one isn't drinking coffee.”

You give him a sympathetic smile before nodding towards the door. “You didn't have to stay here, you know. I know it's cold outside, but something tells me the temperature doesn't bother you that much.” More than a few people had given him strange looks for lingering in the cafe for that long without removing his winter coat, let alone without even breaking a sweat.

He hangs his head a bit, sheepishly glancing off to the side. “I did not want to get lost. If I did, I may not have made it back at the promised hour,” he admits shyly.

His kindness and consideration absolutely melt you. “Oh, that's--” you pause and chuckle, “...you're too sweet.”

“Am I?” he asks genuinely, his brow creeping up his forehead. “It seems like a simple courtesy.”

You offer him the coffee you'd made for him and he takes it into his hands, blinking down at it before returning his attention to your face. With a gentle smile, you reply, “It's more thought than most people would put into it, at least. But never mind that; go ahead and try that. I think you'll like it.”

“Oh, you--?” He stops himself, simply nodding before bringing the mouth of the lid to his lips. His eyes widen in an instant, an audible “mmm” humming in his throat as he takes a few more sips. It clearly takes him a lot of self-restraint to not finish his cup in one go, lowering it as he swallows. “I knew I made the right decision in trusting you,” he says emphatically before giving you a brilliant smile.

Now it's your turn to be shy, rubbing the back of your neck and chewing on the inside of your cheek. “I'm glad you like it,” you reply quietly.

“If I may trouble you further,” he says, leaning forward and tilting his head so that his face is level with yours. His closeness draws a little squeak from your lips. “The Guardians gave me the entire day to myself. I… would spend more time with you.”

Your mouth hangs agape. He wants to spend time with you? Warmth blossoms in your chest and your stomach flips.

When you don't immediately respond, he withdraws, worry creasing his brow, and exhales with a forlorn smile. “I… forgive me. That was a selfish request--”

“N-no!” you're quick to interrupt, not thinking about your movements when your hand comes to rest over his. You gasp and pull back instantly, and you can feel your face growing hot as the touch lingers on your fingertips. “I would love to. I just wasn't expecting it.”

“Why not? You seem pleasant enough company,” he replies, confused by your trepidation. 

“I… um…” You lick your lips, lacking a proper answer when you really think about it. “Never mind, but thank you.”

There's no way this man is real. You're clearly dreaming. Some intergalactic superhero shows up once, interacts with you once, and suddenly he has an interest in you? This is either an incredibly elaborate dream or a terribly cruel prank.

Though, you're not going to deny yourself this indulgence, real or not.

“There’s a park nearby. Obviously it's not the liveliest place right now, but I like to go there to relax.” When he regards you with curiosity, you add, “I would rather not spend more time at my place of work than I need to.”

He smiles in understanding before approaching the exit, opening the door as bitter winter air spills into the cafe. He nods for you to go first, and you have to stifle the girlish giggle bubbling in your chest. Of course he's a perfect gentleman. The two of you make your way down the sidewalk, side by side, though occasionally Adam stops to take another sip of his coffee. Each time he does, he adopts a delighted smile that warms your very soul.

“So,” he starts as you walk, eyeing you from the side. “How did you become a coffee expert?”

He asks it so genuinely you almost feel bad for the snort you let out. “I… I'm no expert. Just a local barista who enjoys what she does. Well, minus the customers, sometimes,” you respond.

“Ah… I am a customer, aren’t I?” he asks forlornly.

“Oh, you're one of the good ones!” you reassure him. “After all, I don't usually spend time with customers once my shift ends. You're a special one.”

“A special one? Hmm…” He seems to give this a great deal of thought as he rests a hand under his chin. “It is good that you do not dislike me, though. I certainly prefer it this way.”

You blink up at him in surprise as a blush spreads across your cheeks, and he seems to realize it in the same moment as his face turns a deeper shade of copper. He clears his throat, and you turn your head away with a quiet giggle.

The two of you finally reach the park, and much to your surprise, there are quite a few people here. A lot of couples wander about the paved pathways, cuddled up together for warmth as they whisper sweet nothings to each other and admire the soft glow of the lights that have been strung about. You can't help but feel a little self conscious about bringing Adam here; it’s clear that the atmosphere is far more amorous than usual.

“There is joy in plentiful abundance here. I can understand why you would enjoy it,” his voice breaks through your thoughts as he smiles at you. 

“I-I… it's, um… not normally this populated this time of year,” you explain as you nervously massage the nape of your neck. A shiver wracks your body then, and you're reminded that the light jacket you were wearing was enough for your commute but far from sufficient for lingering in the cold.

Adam seems to take notice, immediately shedding his winter coat and draping it over your shoulders. “Here,” he says softly as you're suddenly enveloped in warmth. His broad shoulders mean that his coat dwarfs you, reaching almost to your knees. It smells like him, like golden sunshine, earth, and the faintest hint of cologne. You hadn’t pegged him as the sort to wear fragrance, but you find yourself trying to memorize the scent nonetheless. 

“Oh, I--thank you,” you acquiesce as your blush deepens. The long sleeved red shirt he had worn underneath hugs his physique, and you have to stop yourself from staring.

“Do not mention it. It was merely a fashion choice to blend in, so I will be fine without it.” He looks at the way your neck disappears beneath the coat's fur collar and lets out a chortle. “Though, it may be a bit large for you. I apologize.”

You shake your head, trying to shed your rather Terran thoughts of what his actions normally imply at the same time, and offer him a shy smile. “No, it's fine. It’s warmer this way, I think.”

A bench beneath a large, barren oak draped in string lights is where you find yourselves. Though you sit side by side, you're careful not to sit too close to him. Don't want to give the wrong impression. It's quieter here, at least, and you settle into your seat with a long sigh before staring up into the colorless winter sky. The setting sun tries to peek through the clouds, a lone beacon glowing through the fog with its cold light. 

At least you have your own sun sitting next to you. 

“Do you like living here?” he asks suddenly with a tilt of his head in your direction. Curious eyes blink innocently at you.

That’s one you really have to think about. You shuffle a bit in your seat and tug his jacket tighter around your body, letting out a contemplative hum.

“It’s… familiar,” you finally say, your gaze trailing away as you grow lost in thought. “Routine. There’s a comfort in that.”

“You want something more,” he surmises from your tone, eyes softening.

You blink at him in surprise. “I… yeah. I suppose I do. But at the same time, change is scary, you know?” Burying your chin in the coat’s fur trim, you sigh. “You must see so many things out there…”

He chortles then, a low, rumbling sound. “And yet I still came here to experience coffee for the first time.”

His jovial nature eases your worries, instead letting you consider just what your first meeting really meant. “You’re telling me, truly, that you couldn’t get coffee elsewhere? I don’t believe for a second that coffee didn’t make its way across the galaxy!”

A hearty laugh bursts forth from him. “No, but I do not often have time at my disposal to seek such things out. I saw the opportunity while we were in the area and took it.”

Unexpectedly, he takes your hand gently in his. His golden skin is still just that, skin, tender and warm as he cradles your smaller hand in his palm. “I am glad I did,” he adds, smiling softly. “You have proven to be wonderful company.”

Your face heats up instantly to the point you’re surprised you can’t see steam coming off of your skin. Eyes glued to where your hands meet, you can feel your heart fluttering at even that simplest of touches.

“I-I… I’m glad you think so,” you finally eke out, thanking whatever gods are listening that your voice didn’t crack too terribly.

“This will be a wonderful… friendship, I think. Perhaps you can teach me other things, such as terran fashion or customs.” A sparkle glints in his eyes that you can’t help but notice. You also couldn’t help but notice the pause in his speech, nor the way his own cheeks turned a deep bronze.

“I don’t think you’ll need much help from me on fashion,” you reply, nodding at his current outfit. “You clearly have good taste.”

“Do I?” he asks with genuine surprise. “I simply chose garments that fit me well and that were in colors I often already wore and enjoyed…”

You giggle, and he regards you perplexedly. “You do realize that means you’re already putting more thought into it than most do, right?” When he shakes his head, you add, “A lot of people just grab whatever clothes are clean and head out the door.”

He seems to think on that, toying with your fingers as he brushes his thumb over your knuckles while he ponders. “I see… so that is what Qui--ah, Star-Lord does every day. It would explain some things.”

You snort at that, recalling the other humanoid that had been accompanying him the last time you met. “I wouldn’t tell him that, if I were you. He seems to have a fragile enough ego already.”

Adam gives you a knowing smirk as a laugh huffs from his nostrils. “You gathered as much from one meeting? You have a keen eye.”

“Nah, I’m just used to his type,” you correct him, shrugging your shoulders. “Not the first time I’ve been flirted with at work.”

“Mm,” he hums pensively. “That does not surprise me.” His eyes snap back up to yours and, once he realizes what he’s said, that bronze shade grows even more intense upon his face. “That is--I, well, you are pleasant to talk to, and to look at--”

Is he getting flustered? Over you? …Did he just say you were pleasant to look at?

He bites his tongue and looks away bashfully, withdrawing his hand. “I have said too much. Forgive me.”

Now you are the one who reaches for his hand, taking it back into your delicate hold as he regards you from the corner of his eye. “No, no… I don’t mind. Really,” you urge, even if your heart hammers in your chest. “I feel the same about you.”

“Ah…” he responds, the syllable almost choking its way from his throat. “It is not a feeling I am used to navigating. Forgive me if I seem hesitant or unsure.”

He seems so vulnerable now, this perfect man, and you feel yourself leaning closer to him. The hesitation is still there, but something about him draws you closer. You press your palm against his before interlocking your fingers. Golden lips part softly as he watches you closely, searching for any sign of discomfort, and all he sees is your gentle smile.

“And… what feeling is that?” you ask tentatively. It’s easier to brace yourself for any possible rejection if you just stare at your interlaced hands instead of his face.

“I…” he begins, trailing off for a moment. “Attraction, at the very least,” he finally ventures, his eyes darting off to stare at the lingering snow that clings to the grass. “I did not lie. It is soothing, pleasurable, even, to be in your company. That much I know. I am drawn to you.”

Well, that much you had in common. Finally your gaze finds its way back to his face. He’s clearly embarrassed. Meanwhile, you’re over the moon, trying desperately to contain your excitement at this revelation. Still, this is clearly all new, especially for him, and the last thing you want to do is scare him off.

“I’m flattered, Adam,” you reply warmly, bringing his attention back to you. “It… it doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to, though. People find each other attractive all the time.” Reality sinks in as you continue, “...and you’re always off saving the universe, so if you don’t want to--”

“Please,” he suddenly hisses, clasping his other hand over yours and squeezing. “Do not dismiss what I am telling you. Even if I am unsure of it myself, I know that I want to spend more time with you.” When your eyes widen, he continues, “I know of friendship. Kinship. What it is to have people close to you. There is something about your very soul that invites me deeper, beyond even that. It is true that you and I have only barely become acquainted, but I…”

He brings your hand to his lips and presses a tender kiss to your knuckles.

“I would be terribly suffering if I were never to see you again.”

[deliciousangelfestival]

I Hate It When You're Drunk - 7

Character: bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader

Summary: A forbidden love between a princess and her bodyguard. They love each other deeply, but their relationship is threatened by the tyrant king's oppressive rule and their differing social statuses.

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Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

In the other room, laughter and excitement filled the air as you and your bridesmaids gathered for the wedding preparations. Your friends, all hopeless romantics, were thrilled for you, knowing how much this day meant.

They huddled around, admiring your wedding dress—an elegant, simple gown adorned with delicate flower embroidery. The white fabric shimmered softly in the light, making you look like a vision of grace.

You wore a crown that once belonged to your mother, a cherished heirloom that your father had handed to you himself. After receiving his permission for this momentous occasion, the bitterness you once held toward him had softened, if only slightly.

As you stood before the mirror, gazing at your reflection, the crown glinted softly in the light, a symbol of the legacy you carried. You couldn’t help but wish that your mother were here with you, guiding you through this pivotal day.

With the international media coverage, a small part of you hoped that wherever she was, she would see the news and know that her daughter was getting married.

“You look stunning,” one of your bridesmaids said, her voice filled with genuine admiration.

“Bucky’s going to lose his breath when he sees you,” another chimed in, a playful grin on her face.

“You two are perfect for each other,” someone added, placing a hand on your shoulder. “We’ve all seen the way he looks at you. There’s no doubt in my mind this is exactly how it’s supposed to be.”

Their words were heartfelt, and as they each gave their blessings, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of warmth. Their support made the day even more special, reminding you that you weren’t just marrying Bucky—you were also surrounded by people who truly cared for you and wanted to see you happy.

The wedding became a national holiday, a day of grand celebration and international coverage. Streets were lined with eager spectators as the festivities unfolded in a magnificent parade. Soldiers in gleaming uniforms rode atop powerful horses, their disciplined ranks adding a military grandeur to the occasion.

King Leonard seized the opportunity to showcase the might of Veridian, reminding the world of the nation's strength under his iron rule. As Bucky watched the display, he realized with a sinking feeling that he had truly entered the lion's den.

“We have to go to the church,” said Archer, the Defense Minister of Veridian. With no family of his own, Bucky found himself accompanied by Archer, his father’s old friend and now the closest thing he had to family. The ministry of defense, a symbol of the power Bucky was stepping into, stood by his side.

They climbed into a classic Rolls-Royce, the car gliding through the streets toward the church. The clear windows made Bucky an object of attention, with every pair of eyes in the crowd focused on him. People cheered and waved the flag of the country, their excitement palpable as they awaited the groom’s arrival.

“Wave, Bucky,” Archer prompted.

Bucky waved, but it felt hollow. He was like a goldfish in a glass bowl, exposed and on display for all to see.

“Your father would be proud of you,” Archer remarked.

Bucky could only wish his father were there to see this day.

“Except your mom. She’d be furious that you’re marrying the king’s daughter,” Archer added with a wry smile.

“If she’s still alive, I hope this is enough to bring her back, wherever she is,” Bucky replied, his voice tinged with a longing he couldn’t suppress.

“She’s still alive,” Archer said, his tone suddenly serious.

Bucky’s eyes snapped to Archer’s, disbelief and hope warring within him. “Don’t joke with me,” he said, his voice tight with emotion.

“I know where she is,” Archer responded calmly.

Relief washed over Bucky like a tidal wave, the best news he had heard in years. “Where is she?” he demanded, but then hesitated, glancing around. “Wait, is it safe to talk about this here?”

“There are no bugs in the car, and the driver is one of my people,” Archer reassured him.

Thank God, Bucky thought, grateful that Archer had thought everything through. “So where is she?”

“In an enemy state,” Archer said, pausing before revealing the name. “Thalassa.”

Bucky’s world tilted on its axis. Thalassa—the very mention of the place sent a chill down his spine. King Leonard’s decree was clear: anyone who visited Thalassa would be branded a traitor. His mother had chosen to live in a country that refused to acknowledge Leonard as the rightful ruler.

“I hope you can make a change around here,” Archer said, his words heavy with meaning.

Bucky could only hope, his mind spinning with the revelation and the burden it now placed on his shoulders.

👑👑👑👑👑

Bucky arrived at the church first, stepping into the grand hall that had been meticulously decorated for the royal wedding. The aisles were lined with white roses, and soft golden drapes hung from the high arches, casting a warm, regal glow throughout the space. The scent of fresh flowers mixed with the incense, creating an atmosphere that was both sacred and celebratory.

Diplomatic guests from across the world filled the pews, their attire as varied and ornate as their countries of origin. Bucky, however, recognized none of them. They were not his guests but those of King Leonard, each one a powerful figure in their own right, all there to witness the union under the king's command.

Bucky's attention was momentarily diverted to the seats behind King seat. Cassian and his uncle, Duke Griffin, were seated there, their presence adding another layer of complexity to the scene.

Cassian, who had earlier expressed his disillusionment with the arranged marriage, now sat with a mask of indifference. His eyes occasionally flicked toward Bucky, a mixture of pity and curiosity in his gaze. Beside him, Duke Griffin, an imposing figure with a sharp gaze, remained impassive.

As Bucky stood at the front, feeling the weight of their gazes on him, the doors opened to reveal King Leonard. The entire congregation stood and bowed deeply as the king entered, a silent acknowledgment of his absolute authority. Leonard’s presence commanded the room, his every step echoing through the grand hall.

Before taking his seat, Leonard approached Bucky, his expression unreadable. He placed a firm hand on Bucky’s shoulder, a gesture that felt more like a warning than reassurance.

“Your duty is just to make my daughter happy,” Leonard said, his voice low and cold. “I don’t expect anything else from you.”

Bucky didn’t trust himself to speak. He simply nodded, his throat tight, as Leonard withdrew and moved to his place of honor.

A hush fell over the crowd as the master of ceremonies stepped forward. “Ladies and gentlemen,” the voice echoed through the church, “the bride, Her Royal Highness, the Princess, will now arrive.”

As the church doors opened, the anticipation in the air became palpable. The choir's voices rose in harmony with the music, and the orchestra began playing Canon in D, the notes echoing through the grand hall.

Bucky stood at the altar, his back to the entrance. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat a drum of nervous energy that reverberated through his entire being. He knew the moment had come, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn around just yet. His breath caught in his throat as he tried to steady himself, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

As you entered the church, the soft rustle of your gown mixed with the melodious strains of Canon in D, creating a symphony that enveloped you. Each step felt like you were walking through a dream, your heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nerves.

The grandeur of the church overwhelmed you—the lavish decorations, the rows of esteemed diplomatic guests, and the sea of faces turned in anticipation. But amidst the opulence, your focus was solely on Bucky. He was the reason for every flutter in your chest, every tremor in your hands.

Your bouquet of fresh flowers felt like a lifeline, grounding you amidst the storm of emotions. The crown your father had gifted you, a delicate piece of history, seemed to weigh heavier now. It was a reminder of your lineage and the monumental step you were about to take.

The aisle stretched before you, a path leading to your future. With every step, you could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on you. Despite the nerves and the overwhelming feeling that this was all too surreal, a smile found its way to your lips. You couldn’t believe it—after everything you’d been through, you were finally here, marrying the man you loved.

King Leonard, standing beside you, took a firm but reassuring grip on your arm. His presence was both a comfort and a reminder of the responsibility and expectation that came with this union. As he guided you down the aisle, the weight of the moment was palpable. His role was to lead you to Bucky, ensuring that you were united in front of everyone who mattered.

As you reached the midpoint of the aisle, you looked up at him with a grateful smile. "Thank you, Father."

Leonard's gaze softened slightly, though his voice remained steady. "If he ever makes you cry or hurts you, just tell me."

You met his eyes with unwavering confidence. "That will never happen."

As you walked closer, Bucky finally found the courage to turn around. The sight of you took his breath away. You looked like a vision, an ethereal presence that made his heart skip a beat. His chest tightened with a mix of love and fear, knowing that this was it—the moment that would change both your lives forever.

The ceremony began, and the priest’s voice filled the air with solemnity and grace. He spoke of love, commitment, and the vows you were about to take. The words washed over you both, their weight sinking deep into your hearts. Bucky glanced at you, his heart pounding, as the priest asked him the most important question of his life.

"Do you, James Buchanan Barnes, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or worse, till death do you part?"

Bucky’s voice was steady, though he felt anything but. "I do."

The priest then turned to you, and you felt a wave of emotions—love, fear, excitement—crash over you.

"And do you, Princess, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or worse, till death do you part?"

With a voice filled with certainty and love, you answered, "I do."

The priest smiled warmly and announced, "By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife."

Bucky reached up to lift your veil, his hands trembling slightly. As he finally revealed your face, your smile met his, a beacon of pure joy that made his heart race.

Without waiting for the priest to instruct you, Bucky leaned in and kissed you. The spontaneous, heartfelt gesture drew laughter and applause from the guests, filling the church with a warmth that melted away any lingering tension.

Hand in hand, you and Bucky turned to face the guests, but first, you both bowed deeply to the king.

King Leonard, with a measured smile, stepped forward. "Welcome to the family, James."

Bucky met the king's gaze, doing his best to suppress the unease bubbling beneath the surface. "It's an honor, Your Majesty."

With the formalities complete, you both began the procession down the aisle, greeting guests as you went. Outside the church, the crowds had gathered, their cheers erupting as you stepped out. The sight of you in your beautiful white dress and Bucky in his military uniform was like something out of a fairy tale. The people waved flags and called out well-wishes, celebrating what seemed to be the happiest day of your life.

But Bucky couldn’t shake the gnawing fear that clung to him. The memory of the blood-red message burned in his mind, making him feel vulnerable in the open space. As much as he tried to keep up appearances, the urge to get inside, away from prying eyes, was overwhelming.

Thankfully, the ornate carriage that awaited you both was fitted with bulletproof glass, offering a sense of security that Bucky desperately needed. Once inside, you beamed with happiness, the joy of the day radiating from you.

"Can you believe it, Bucky? We’re finally married!" you said, your voice bubbling with excitement as you squeezed his hand.

Bucky forced a smile, trying to match your enthusiasm. "Yeah… finally."

You leaned closer to him, your eyes sparkling. "I knew this day would be perfect, but I never imagined it would feel this incredible."

Bucky nodded, his mind racing. "It’s everything you deserved."

You noticed a hint of something in his voice—a flicker of doubt, perhaps—but dismissed it, too wrapped up in the joy of the moment to let it linger.

As the carriage began its journey back to the castle, you continued talking about the day, the guests, and the future that lay ahead. Bucky listened, his hand still holding yours, but his thoughts were elsewhere, his eyes flicking nervously toward the bulletproof windows. The carriage offered safety, but the dread in his heart remained.

Unaware of the storm brewing inside him, you smiled, resting your head on his shoulder, content in the belief that this was the start of your happily ever after.

👑👑👑👑👑👑

Bucky had just finished changing into a suit when he stepped out of the room, adjusting his tie. The weight of the day was pressing down on him, but he was determined to keep it together for your sake. As he walked into the hallway, he was suddenly shoved back, his shoulder slamming into the wall. The shock of the impact made him blink, and when his eyes focused, he felt as if he were seeing a ghost.

"Lucas?" Bucky's voice wavered in disbelief.

The man before him was a wreck—a shadow of the comrade he once knew. Lucas’s face was gaunt, his eyes bloodshot and wild, his clothes disheveled like he had crawled out from the depths of hell. His hands trembled, and in one of them, a gun was pointed directly at Bucky's chest.

"You… you fucking traitor!" Lucas spat the words with venom, his voice cracking under the weight of betrayal. "We trusted you! Our comrades… our friends… and you sold us out to that monster!"

Bucky raised his hands slowly, trying to calm his friend. "Lucas, listen to me—"

"Shut up!" Lucas’s voice was a shriek, desperate and unhinged. He shook his head, his grip on the gun tightening. "You don’t get to talk! Do you know what they did to us? What they did to me?"

"I know, and I’m going to make things right," Bucky said, his voice low, trying to keep it steady even as his heart raced. "But killing me won’t change what happened."

"You don’t get it, do you? It’s too late! It’s all too fucking late!" Lucas’s eyes were filled with rage and sorrow, a man broken by unimaginable horrors. He took a step closer, the barrel of the gun trembling but still aimed squarely at Bucky.

Bucky could see Lucas was beyond reason, his mind fractured by the torment he had endured. Every second felt like an eternity as the gun wavered, Lucas’s finger twitching on the trigger. The fear was real, but Bucky couldn’t let it control him.

"Lucas, please," Bucky’s voice was almost a whisper. "I swear, I didn’t betray you. We can fix this together—"

A gunshot rang out, the sound echoing through the hall like a death knell. Bucky squeezed his eyes shut, expecting the searing pain of a bullet tearing into him. But nothing came. No pain, no darkness. He opened his eyes, and the sight before him made his breath catch in his throat.

Lucas stood there, his eyes wide with shock, blood seeping through his shirt from a wound in his chest. He staggered, his grip on the gun loosening. Bucky instinctively reached out, catching Lucas before he could collapse to the floor.

"It… it wasn’t you. I’m… Avenge us," Lucas choked out, blood bubbling up in his mouth as he spoke.

"Don’t speak, Lucas. I’ll get help," Bucky said, his voice breaking as he tried to hold back the tears. He could feel the life draining out of his friend, the warmth leaving his body.

"It’s… too late," Lucas whispered, his voice barely audible now.

Bucky looked up, desperation and anger swirling in his chest, and that’s when he saw him—Isaac. The man he thought was dead, standing there as if nothing had happened. Isaac was clean, composed, his hair neatly combed, and his suit pristine. He looked every bit the part of someone who had just stepped out of a palace, not a prison.

"You," Bucky growled, his voice filled with fury as he held Lucas’s lifeless body. "It was you."

Isaac’s lips curled into a cold smile. He bowed his head slightly, a mockery of respect. "From now on, I serve you, Your Highness."

"You fucking traitor!" Bucky’s voice was a roar of pain and anger. He wanted nothing more than to rip Isaac apart, to make him pay for everything he had done.

"Oh, what a good job youdid on your first day." A cold, authoritative voice cut through the tension.

Bucky looked up to see King Leonard, his presence commanding the room. The king walked in, seemingly oblivious to the blood-stained scene before him, as if Lucas's dying body was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

Isaac straightened up and greeted the king with a formal nod. "It’s my duty, sir."

King Leonard smiled, his gaze shifting to Bucky, who was still cradling Lucas’s lifeless form. "Let me introduce you to the new head of the castle guard, Isaac."

Bucky’s anger simmered just below the surface, his hands clenched into fists. Isaac, the man who had betrayed them all, was now standing here with the king’s blessing. This was no longer just a political game—this was personal.

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[blueycarpenter]

little star

Ever since Cairo submitted her midterm assignment, things haven't been the same between you two.

fandom: MILLER'S GIRL (2024) content: x reader a/n: i had posted this on a previous account, in case it looks familiar

Cairo hadn’t been herself lately. You two had talked for hours for the past couple of weeks. You had grown closer and more intimate with each other. Then, all of the sudden, everything changed.

Cairo wasn’t around anymore. She never called or wrote. It was ever since she turned in her midterm assignment for Mr. Miller that ties had been cut. Due to her tight deadlines, you two had agreed not to see each other until after she had finished the midterm, but it had been 3 days since the due date… She had been a ghost.

You called Winnie that morning—the dawn of the 4th day after. She explained the discord that had accumulated and how Cairo had taken the beating to heart. But she was the strongest person you had ever met. She couldn’t be broken.

Could she?

Winnie had said a lot of things. 

Cairo was emotional. Cairo was resentful. Cairo was heartbroken. Cairo was alive, at least.

No more alive than the works she’d create from a blinking cursor, the lead of a pencil, or the ink of a pen, though. She’d masterminded such beauty that reflected nothing but the world around her. Though when she had unlatched the door to let the monsters in, the rain poured and the lightning struck. 

You weren’t as talented a writer as she was, but who could be? Between those paragraphs of literacy and media was blood. It was a rich kind of blood that lured you to Cairo Sweet in the first place. It was reckless and mysterious, but you’d never felt more grounded before you laid eyes on her. Heard her speak… Learned her heart… And you missed that more than everything.

Was there Sweet to her name anymore? Or was there just Cairo? 

Winnie said Cairo had been alone. She said she had wanted to be alone.

But alone meant misery and displacement. Defeat and loneliness. Longing and torture. And Cairo didn’t deserve that. You didn’t care what she’d done or what she didn’t do. She was your north star. She shone brighter than anything you’d ever known, and therefore, nothing could ever change that.

So, you showed up to her house after that 6 AM phone call with Winnie Black. You needed to see her. Not just because you missed her more than anything, but because you couldn’t bear the thought of her discouraging her potential and honesty. Not in her wondrous existence.

Cairo didn’t fear anything, you’d learned, so you let yourself in and found her sitting in the darkness of her room, three cigarette butts on the floor and her journal open on the bed. Through the shadows, you found the top of her head over the other side of the bed. “Cairo?”

She didn’t move a muscle, but she did answer. “If you’ve come to talk, don’t bother. I’ve heard enough, and the sincerity I’ve expressed has been more than society is willing to tolerate. Honesty is feared by many. It’s tragic and hateful, yet it’s a quality that etiquette claims to be most valuable.” Then, she managed a wry scoff. “Hypocrites.” 

“Cairo, I don’t care what happened,” you replied. “I haven’t heard from you in days. I just missed you, and I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

She actually gave a laugh this time. “Aren’t I?”

As convincing as she may seem to other people, you had learned her better than most, because you had to figure her out the hard way, through phone calls and communication of words, not expressions. You didn’t have to see her face to determine how she truly felt. You could hear it. Dare you say, you could feel it. 

There was a tear in her voice as she spoke. And it led you rounding the bed to find her knees up, while she stared at the wall ahead. Those beautiful eyes were slow, like shards of obsidian as they raised to meet yours without a blink.

“Y/N…”

You dropped to your knees and pulled her into a hug. She didn’t reciprocate, but you held her for everything you were worth. You rested your cheek against her head, your fingers gently pulling the small tangles from her hair and your other hand corralling her back, clutching her shirt like she was going to disappear into the darkness. “Cairo, listen to me…” you whispered. Her warm breath filtered through your shirt. “I don’t care what anyone says. About you… About me… About anything… You are the greatest soul anyone could ever dream of having in their school, in their class, in their life, in anything.”

A warm, damp feeling found its way to your collarbone, and you knew it was tears. And all of the sudden, her weight was recognizable against your embrace. She felt so small in your arms that didn’t even hold all of her. It was the first time you realized just how petite she was for an 18 year-old girl with an extraordinary personality. “You know, to me… you’re above everything in this world. I’ve only seen people wander the earth, dreaming of what it’d be like to fly, but you… you fly, Cairo. You’re that star in the sky everyone dreams of being.” Your chest ached from how serious those words coming from your heart were. You then lifted your head to place a loving kiss to hers, because just holding her wasn’t enough anymore. 

Cairo sniffled, but didn’t say anything. However, she had managed to unbend her legs to hold you against her. And when you gently pulled away to have her look up at you and you, down at her, the wet streaks against her cheeks shimmered in the halflight.

You wiped them away and gave her a small smile. “Beautiful…” You kissed her forehead. “Magical…” You kissed her cheek. “Wonderful, you are.” The next place you were dying to heal with your lips caught your eyes, though it was merely small motions of your irises. Instead, you brushed her hair aside and pressed your foreheads together. Her eyes shut and for a moment, she looked peaceful as you finished with, “Yes, you are…”

She opened her eyes, now only tainted with a thin gloss. But then she managed the smallest, sweetest smile you’d ever seen. Her Cairo Sweet smile. “Thank you,” she said, her voice only a little above a whisper, mostly steady but with the slightest crack.

“It’s true,” you whispered back. Seeing her small smile was enough for you to give her your own, though yours was out of admiration, pride, and love. She truly was a star. 

She was your little star.

Then, her smile faded and she glanced away. It was almost shy, which surprised you. “Y/N?” Her voice grew a little stronger.

“Mm-hmm?” Whatever she wanted was hers.

“Kiss me.”

There was no hesitation as you granted her wish. Little did she know though, it was your wish too. You had wished upon a star, because that was the old saying. Wishing on a star was a chance that didn’t come often, especially when that one star was a shooting star. Yet, it hadn’t passed you up, and there was no way in hell you were going to pass it up.

Cairo’s lips were soft, but you could tell there were stories imprinted on them. They weren’t ex-stories, per se, but they were mysteries that you wondered how hard they would be to solve. How many pages would you have to read to uncover them? How much would she have to write to reveal them?

Only time would tell. But every journey starts somewhere.

And the best had a star to guide them.

[katareyoudrilling]

Audience of One (Dave York one-shot)

Pairing: Bodyguard Dave York x Female Reader

Summary: When online comments threaten your safety, you reluctantly agree to hire a bodyguard

Word count: ~3k

Rating: Explicit (18+ only. NO MINORS)

Content Warnings: a bit of danger, masturbation, unprotected PIV (please use protection IRL), a hickey (sort of)

A/N: This is my entry for @burntheedges Roll-a-Trope challenge! I got famous person AU and twisted it to fit my very niche tastes lol.  It has been quite a while since I posted something, thanks for hanging in there with me.  I really hope you enjoy it! Big thanks to @burntheedges for the beta 😘

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

Dave York Masterlist

Masterlist

Taglist – link in my bio or let me know!

“I really think you’re overreacting.”  You finish cleaning off your instrument and securing it in your case.

“I’m not and it’s not open to discussion.” 

You sigh.  “I’m a concert violinist, not a movie star.  No one is out to ‘get me’ or whatever.  This is ridiculous.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” your manager forces you to meet her gaze.  “There have been emails, social media posts… I know you don’t want to believe it, but there are creeps out there focused on you.  I need you to be safe.”

She’s looking at you with so much care and concern that the fight leaves your body.  “Fine.  Send him in.”

“Thank you.”  She turns to open the door to the dressing room and gestures to someone in the hallway.  You gather the rest of your things into your bag and prepare to head to your hotel.

Your manager steps back into the room trailed by a tall, broad, dark-haired, incredibly attractive man in an overcoat.

“Meet Dave York, your bodyguard.”

. . . . . . . . . .

“I’m really sorry about this,” you apologize for the tenth time since getting into the back of the town car with your new bodyguard in tow. “All this fuss is unnecessary.”

Dave regards you across the darkened backseat.  “Your manager doesn’t think so and neither do I.  The sooner you accept my help, the better this will go.”

You lose your train of thought as the streetlights sweep across his gorgeous features.  His pouty lips… his aquiline nose… his strong jaw… his dark eyes… each feature takes its turn in the lamplight.  It’s probably for the best, taking him in all at once might actually kill you.  No one has the right to be this handsome.

You shake yourself out of your reverie and find Dave watching you closely.  You look away quickly, shifting your focus out your window.  You cross your legs, and the slit of your dress opens, revealing your legs up to mid-thigh.  You quickly adjust the skirt to cover yourself and tell yourself that you’re imagining Dave’s eyes flickering away.

You clear your throat, “Right, umm… how is this going to go, exactly?”

“I’ll be with you during the day.  When you return to your hotel room at night, I’ll hand off responsibility to my security team.  There will be extra security at your concerts and events as well.”

“That doesn’t sound too intrusive.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

“I hope you like classical music.”

“We’ll find out.”

. . . . . . . . . . .

And that’s how it goes.  Dave meets you outside your door when you’re ready to leave in the morning and accompanies you on each step of your schedule.  He tags along to masterclasses, rehearsals, concerts, and your own practice sessions.  Ushering you in and out of town cars and back exits.

You share brief conversations in the car.  His dry, sarcastic wit comes out little by little as you spend time with him.  He often makes you laugh and you thrill when his pouty lips tilt at the edges into a wry smirk at something you said.

He leaves you at your hotel room door in each city at the end of the day, waiting until you close the door to call his security team.

You don’t lean against the door and wonder where he goes after he’s with you.  That would be inappropriate.

You don’t replay the events of the day, the glances, the almost touches, that assuredly exist only in your own imagination.

You don’t catalog the little things you’ve learned about him.  Single.  No kids.  Ex-military.  Coffee, black.  Unexpected crinkles around the eyes when he smiles.

You don’t seek him out in the concert halls, looking for a sign that he enjoys the music you’re making, always finding him watching you intently from backstage, still and focused.

You don’t find yourself pulling out your favorite toy to relieve some tension more and more frequently as the days spent in his company add up.

Definitely not.

. . . . . . . . . .

“You played something different tonight.” Dave’s deep voice breaks the silence of the car. 

You hum your assent, “Sarasate’s Carmen Fantasy.  It’s a real crowd pleaser.”

“I didn’t know a violin could do that.”

You chuckle, “Yeah, the soloist gets to show off in that one.”

“You like to show off, don’t you?”

The energy in the car shifts in an instant.  Dave’s dark eyes are even darker than usual as he regards you across the cab.  The question hangs heavy in the air.  

“You have to like to show off to do my job,” you explain a bit breathlessly.  You meet his dark gaze, and he hums in approval.  “Do you like to show off, Dave?”

He drags his thumb across his lower lip, your eyes can’t help but follow the movement.

“No, I don’t like to show off.  I like to watch.”

His words hit you like an electrical current, zinging across your skin, breaking you out into full body goose bumps.

You hold each other’s gaze in the dark, your breath coming in increasingly erratic pants.  He doesn’t look away.  Neither do you.

You cross your legs and allow your skirt to fall open up your legs, just like the first night you were in the car with him.  This time, the dress has an even higher slit—you save this particular gown for when you perform the Carmen, you enjoy playing into the persona.  This time, you don’t cover up.

You watch as his gaze flickers to your bare legs, exposed practically all the way to your underwear, the tip of his tongue sneaks out to wet his plush lips.

He drags his eyes back up to yours.  The air is thick with possibility.  A line has definitely been crossed.  Words begin to bubble up from your gut when the car pulls to a stop in front of the hotel.

The moment pops like a balloon.

Dave opens his door and swings up and out of the car.  In a haze, you open your door and step out into the night.

The next moments go by in a flash.

You hear someone shout your name, Dave yells, you’re shoved against the car, unfamiliar hands grab your shoulders and whisk you into the hotel lobby and into the elevator.  The doors close before you can understand the commotion happening outside the hotel.

You’re flanked by security guards you’ve seen around after hours.  The words “assailant” “custody” “weapon” permeate the buzzing in your brain.  Questions form and dissipate in the tangle of your thoughts before you can get them out.

The elevator doors open on your floor, and you are bodily moved into your hotel room.  Before they can close the door, you finally manage to ask what’s going on only to be met with vague instructions to stay in your room and wait.

You pace the floor and look out your window, hoping for a glimpse of what might be happening on the street below, but you’re on the wrong side of the building.  It doesn’t hold any answers for you.

Your hands reach for your phone only to realize it’s still in your bag in the car, along with your instrument case.

The car.

Your mind returns to that moment right before you pulled up to the hotel.  So ripe with promise and possibility.

Then you had gotten out of the car.

Oh shit.

You got out of the car yourself.  You opened your door yourself.  You weren’t supposed to do that. Dave opens your door.  Dave ushers you out of the car.

It’s all your fault.

Just as your thoughts threaten to spiral, there’s a firm knock on your door.

“It’s me.  Everything is ok. Open the door.” You hear Dave through the door.  You rush over and check the peephole like he told you to.  At least you can say you remembered to do that.  You confirm it’s him and open the door.

“Dave, I—”

He crashes into you, pressing you against the wall with the length of his body before claiming your mouth with a rough, desperate kiss.  His hands grip your chin, your shoulders, your hip as he devours your mouth.

Your hands scrabble against his chest, finding the lapels of his coat to hang on.

Just as suddenly as you found yourself kissing Dave, you aren’t.  He pulls back abruptly leaving you cold and breathless.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t ha—”

You pull him back to you by his coat, drawing his mouth back to yours.  You lick into his mouth, moaning as he responds.

This kiss is less frantic, but still full of need.  Your tongues tangle together, tasting and testing.

Dave eventually breaks away, resting his forehead against yours.

“Are you ok?”

“Yes, I’m ok, but what happened?”

“A man came running toward you, the police have him now.  I’m sure it’s the person making those creepy comments about you online.”

“I got out of the car by myself, Dave, I’m so sorry, I know I’m n—”

“Shh,” he hushes you.  “It’s ok.  You’re ok.”

He presses his lips to yours, swallowing your protests, until you melt into him.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long.” He drags his lips down your throat, across your collarbones and shoulders.  He licks back up the side of your neck.

You gasp as he drags his tongue over the sensitive spot on your neck.

“I noticed this mark the night I first met you,” he murmurs into your skin. “I was so jealous of whoever got to do that to you.  I kept waiting to find out who it was, to see if they were worthy of marking your skin, but there has been no one and the mark has stayed.”  You sense the unasked question.

“My… it’s… a violin hickey,” you pant as he drags his nose up the column of your throat and along your jaw. “Where my violin rubs against my neck when I play.”  He chuckles.

“Should I be jealous of your violin?”

“Probably.”

He hums against you.  “Fair enough.”

He steps back to the hotel room door and for a moment your heart drops thinking that he might be leaving, but he only opens the door to pull your bag and violin case into the room.  You hear him conversing with a guard outside before he closes the door, locking the deadbolt before turning back to you.

He shrugs off his overcoat and suit jacket.  He loosens the knot of his tie and begins to unbutton the cuffs of his sleeves.  You watch the movement of his fingers with rapt attention.

“So, Miss Show off. Do you want to show off for me?”  His eyes flash dangerous and dark and a thrill runs up your spine.

Adrenaline tingles in your fingertips as you find the zipper of your dress and pull it down your side.

You lock eyes with Dave as you let your gown fall to the floor, a puddle at your feet.  You are left standing in only your panties and high heels.

Dave drinks you in, caressing your curves with his warm gaze.  Your nipples harden under his perusal and wetness pools between your legs.  It’s all you can do to not rub your thighs together.

“Get on the bed.” He commands, his voice deep and rasping with need.  His shirtsleeves are rolled up now, exposing the tendons and veins in his forearms.  His hands fist at his sides, clearly fighting the urge to touch you.  But you’ve learned this about Dave, he is always in control of himself.

You walk over to the bed, turning your back to him and adding an extra sway to your hips.  You catch his strangled moan at the sight of your round ass framed by the string of your thong.  You turn to sit at the end of the bed with a satisfied smirk.  Dave stands at arm’s length from you, pinning you with his dark eyes.

“Show me.  Let me see if those fingers can play your pussy as well as they play your violin.”

You gasp at his filthy words and your center clenches with need.  Keeping your eyes on him once again, you drag your panties down your legs and off, kicking off your shoes as you do, and scoot a bit farther onto the bed.

You lean back into the plush bedding, resting on one elbow, knees bent, and spread your legs for Dave.

He drinks you in hungrily as you part yourself for him, dipping your fingers into your wetness.

Your mouth falls open as you circle your clit, a moan escaping your chest.  You fight to keep your eyes open so you can watch Dave watch you.  You really do like to show off and he is an eager audience.

You quicken your pace, hitting the rhythm you like best, and find yourself careening towards your peak.  Your hips buck on the bed, and you whine that you’re close.

“Show me,” Dave commands one last time before you fall over the edge, pulsing and shivering through your release.

 “Do I get a standing ovation?” you ask, breathless, once you’ve come back to yourself. 

“You tell me.”

You crack one eye open and find that he’s standing at the end of the bed naked.  His cock juts proudly away from his hips at full attention.

“My favorite kind.” You lick your lips as you sit up and crawl to the edge of the bed.  You look up at him as you take the tip of his cock between your lips, sliding down the hard length of him.  You watch his stomach flex with effort as he resists fucking into your mouth.

It makes you want to make him lose control.  He’s always alert and watching.  Even in the car on the way to the hotel tonight, he kept his cool as you tempted him.  Bursting into your room to kiss you is the only time you’ve seen him not in complete control of himself.

You tongue and suck and moan around him, losing yourself in the rhythm.  Dave drags his fingers down your cheek and throat.  

“Look at you, fuck.” He cups your breasts, swaying heavily between your arms, and pinches your nipples.  “I want to watch these tits bounce while I fuck you.”

You whimper around his length, arousal practically dripping down your legs.  He pulls out of your mouth, diving down to kiss you deeply and press you backwards onto the bed.

He arranges himself against the headboard and drags you on top of him.  “Ride me, baby,” he commands.  You eagerly comply, lining his weeping cock up with your entrance.

Your eyes roll back in your head as you sink down onto him, the stretch is so delicious with every inch you take.  When you bottom out, you open your eyes to find Dave breathing hard, the tendons of his neck taut with effort.

You rise and sink back down slowly, angling yourself backwards so he can see his cock disappear into your wet heat.  He licks the pad of his thumb and reaches between you, giving you friction that makes you shudder with each roll of your hips.

“Fuck yes,” he groans, eyes locked on your greedy pussy, swallowing him whole.  You feel yourself start to flutter around him, the intensity of his eyes on you drives your arousal higher and higher.  Being watched with so much desire gives you such a thrill that your orgasm threatens to take you far too soon.

You slow and lean forward, placing a hand on the headboard over Dave’s head.  Your breasts wobble in front of his face and he quickly takes one nipple into his mouth.  You arch your back into him as he sucks and tugs, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.

He holds your hips still with one hand as he feasts on you, bringing his other to cup and pinch your tender flesh.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you cry as the pressure builds in your core.  Your hips grind into him, seeking relief as he relentlessly toys with you.

He allows you to move, to chase your high, riding his cock with abandon as he looks up at you with lust blown eyes.  You tilt your hips, and he finds your clit once again.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he praises you as you near your peak.  “Come on my cock, baby.  I want to feel you.”

You come with a gasp, rising up on your knees as your pussy clenches then collapsing back down with shuddering pulses.  Dave caresses your back before rolling you over and gently pulling out.  He kneels between your legs, stroking his length, as you lie boneless and hazy.

“That was so fucking hot, baby.” His jaw clenches as he strokes himself faster and faster.  “I fucking love to watch you.  Watch you play your violin… watch you touch yourself… watch you fuck…”

“It’s my turn, Dave,” you interrupt.  “I want to watch you come.  Come all over me.” You prop yourself up on your elbows and smirk at the way a shudder moves through his body.  He lets go with a groan, ropes of cum painting your tummy and chest.

You both collapse, satisfied.  Dave cleans you up, taking extra care with your breasts.  You smirk as he chases the warm cloth with his even warmer mouth.

“What happens now?” you ask later, when you’re twined together on the bed. “If that was the guy…”

“I’ll be here as long as you need me and even after you don’t,” Dave presses a kiss to the top of your head.  You snuggle into his side, relaxing in the knowledge that you are safe and thrilled with the prospect of showing off again for your audience of one.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

A/N: I don't have, and never have had, a violin hickey. I probably don't practice enough lol. But they are often seen as a point of pride among violinists.

Dave York Masterlist

Masterlist

Taglist - in reblog

[under0-0s]

200th Park Avenue, Midtown Manhattan, New York City. 02:43:27 A.M - Laboratory Room. ____________________ (listen to the music to improve the reading experience.)

_____________________

Tony Stark had always thrived in chaos, but this was different. This was a kind of entropy that clung to his bones, settled into his lungs, and refused to let go. Seventeen days and fifty-two hours—long enough for the world outside to twist into something unrecognizable. The weapons division was back, and so was the backlash. The media called him a war profiteer, a fallen hero, a traitor to his own ideals. The ring from a certain someone, that once held promises now lay forgotten in some drawer, and Serena’s voice still echoed in his mind, raw with anguish. Hunter was out there, bullet chambered, mark set.

It didn’t matter.

What mattered was here, now, in the icy stillness of his lab. He’d shut out the noise, ignored the ghosts that clawed at his conscience. Instead, he stared into the heart of something unknown.

A transparent, human-sized chamber stood at the center of the room, its neon-lined edges casting eerie reflections on the steel walls. Inside, a rippling void hovered—a bright streak, like lightning frozen in time, a tear between dimensions. The air buzzed with energy, a whisper of something just beyond reach. He had calibrated every parameter to the most precise degree, pushing past theoretical impossibilities.

This wasn’t about weapons, not really. It wasn’t about escape, either. It was about the spark. The one thing that had eluded him in everything else.

“Sir, I must remind you that exposure to the anomaly beyond its current containment field presents a high probability of destabilization.”

J.A.R.V.I.S.’s voice, crisp and composed, broke through the quiet hum of machinery. The AI had been monitoring the experiment with unwavering precision, cataloging every fluctuation, every surge of energy, every anomaly.

Tony exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “Noted, J. But if I don’t push this further, I’ll never know what’s on the other side.”

“There is a fine line between discovery and destruction, sir.”

A wry smile ghosted across Tony’s lips. “Yeah, well. I’ve never been much for fine lines.”

J.A.R.V.I.S. hesitated, as if calculating the odds of Tony actually listening to reason.

“Would you like me to prepare emergency protocols in case of—”

“No.” Tony cut him off. “We’re not failing today.”

He adjusted the temperature again, a frigid cold settling into the room. His breath ghosted in front of him, cheeks pinkening from the artificial winter. He didn’t move. He barely blinked. He only stared, waiting, hoping, needing something to break through the weight of failure that had consumed him for far too long.

And then—it happened.

The spark.

Small, fleeting, yet infinite in its implications. A shimmer that pulsed through the tear in space, dancing along the edges of the anomaly, illuminating the abyss with an unearthly glow. Maybe it was just a reaction. Maybe it was nothing at all. But for the first time in days, something worked.

His fingers twitched, as if reaching for it, for the proof that something still remained. Something untouched by betrayal, by war, by loss. Maybe it was just physics. Maybe it was just a trick of the mind.

Or maybe—just maybe—it was the proof that between every rupture, every break, every tear, there was a space where something new could exist.

And so he stared, unblinking, as the dimensions split just long enough to let the spark linger.

Because maybe—just maybe—there was still something left to salvage.

The air around him hummed as the neon streak pulsed once more, sending out thin tendrils of energy that wove through the air like living things. He exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing as he adjusted the stabilization settings on the console beside him. If he could just hold the split open long enough, he might be able to measure the properties of whatever existed within. Maybe even step inside.

The thought was reckless, but he had always lived on the edge of recklessness and genius. There was no denying the pull he felt—no denying the possibility that on the other side of that tear, something awaited. Something better. Something more.

But there were risks.

The algorithms were still incomplete, the equations still not fully understood. The chamber’s integrity was holding, but for how long? And if he lost control, what would happen to the lab? To the world?

“J.A.R.V.I.S., run a full diagnostic on the containment field.”

“Processing,”

The AI responded smoothly.

“Energy stabilization at 84%. Containment holding, but fluctuations increasing by 0.7% per second.”

Tony frowned. That wasn’t great. He had minutes at best.

He should stop. He should shut it down and walk away.

But he couldn’t.

Because for all the ways he had failed, for all the people he had let down, for all the things that had slipped through his fingers—this, this, was still in his grasp.

He clenched his fists, jaw tightening as the cold seeped deeper into his skin. The glowing fissure flickered, almost as if it, too, were waiting.

He stepped closer, the hum growing louder. The streak of light stretched and curled, forming delicate arcs that shimmered against the steel walls. His pulse quickened. He reached out, fingers hovering just inches from the anomaly, the energy tingling at his skin.

“Sir, I must reiterate—”

“J, shut up.”

The lab was silent, save for the faint vibrations of the machinery. No voices. No outside distractions. Just him, standing at the precipice of discovery—or destruction.

He took another step forward, heart pounding in his chest. The anomaly pulsed, its radiance fluctuating like the heartbeat of something alive. If he crossed the threshold, if he reached into the unknown, would he find answers? Or only more questions?

The machine hummed one last time before he exhaled and stepped back. He reached for the console, fingers hesitating over the shutdown sequence.

Then, with a final glance at the spark still flickering within the anomaly, he pressed the button.

The energy curled inward, collapsing in on itself until all that remained was the cold and the silence.

J.A.R.V.I.S. spoke first.

“Experiment concluded. Data has been logged.”

Tony turned away from the empty space, running a hand down his face.

Seventeen days and fifty-two hours. That’s how long he had been waiting for something to go right.

The weight in his chest shifted, just a little.

Maybe there was still time to make something of it.

_______________

( Tags so that this just doesn't die: @oh-to-be-a-murderer @the1-and-only-peggycarter @crazyinlovewithmarvel @thatone-midgardian @over-bi-the-wayside @its-nate-the-sharpshot @multiverse-peterbparker @clintbarton-thearrowguy @spidey-sensed-ur-follow @lunamarvels @insomniac-lifestyle @playgirlgenius @the-iron-rose @little-lost-prince )

[aeralux]

"Love Game" - Aegon Targaryen

Modern!Aegon x Reader (pt2 to Wicked Game, but could be read on its own)

Summary: After Aemond discards you like you're nothing more than a "convenient hole to fuck" (according to his words). Who better to make him jealous than his own older brother?

Warnings: SMUT 18+; rough sex; name calling (slut etc...); jealous Aemond; choking; LOUD af sex; alcohol consumption; angst (like a lil); slight Aemond x reaader (?); mentions of infidelity (Aemond)

Words: 8k

Notes: I'm not responsible for the media YOU consume.

Aemond Targaryen deserved to suffer. That was the only thought running through your head as you lived your day-to-day life. Even as weeks passed, the anger and bitterness inside you only grew stronger and stronger.

You wanted to pay him back, not just out of a sense of vengeance but because you felt it was necessary. He was older than you, and to be honest, he seemed to not even have any feelings that could be hurt.

But that didn’t matter; it wasn’t just about him. Hurting him would mean hurting your sister, the one person you cared about more than anyone else. You couldn’t let her find out what you had done—how you had betrayed her trust and broken the bond that held you together. The weight of your secret pressed heavily on your chest, filling you with a mix of guilt and fear.

He seemed to be doing well enough though, pretending that everything was fine. Looking at your sister with love in his eye, telling her sweet nothings. You couldn't help but roll your eyes, that pretentious jerk. With that same mouth, he had kissed you like he never even loved your sister.

Maybe you just needed another body to warm your bed to get over him, to forget all about that one-eyed freak and move on with your life. You had better things to do, truthfully.

Aemond catches your eye and flashes you a smirk, a knowing glint in his depths. He knows exactly what you're thinking, and can see the anger simmering beneath the surface. He thinks he's won, that he has you right where he wants you - desperate, bitter, and powerless.

Your sister, bless her naive heart, is completely oblivious to the tension between you. She chatters on about her day, laughing at Aemond's witty remarks, oblivious to the fact that the man she loves has been balls deep in her sister mere days ago.

Aemond reaches over, squeezing her hand affectionately. "Darling, you look radiant tonight. The most beautiful woman in the room, as always," he purrs, his voice dripping with false sincerity.

Your sister blushes, preening under his praise. If only she knew the real reason behind his smooth words and charming demeanour. The way he used to call you his 'dirty little secret', his 'convenient hole' to fuck when he needed release.

You feel the bile rise in your throat at the memory, your anger boiling over. You need to get away from him, from the sickening sight of him pretending to be the perfect boyfriend.

Suddenly, you stand up abruptly, the chair screeching loudly against the floor. Your sister looks at you in surprise, concern etched on her face.

"Sweetie? Are you alright?" she asks, noticing your pale complexion and the way your hands shake slightly.

"Yeah, listen I gotta go. Baela just texted she's having some people over at her place tonight. We're gonna pregame there and then hit up this new club downtown. Don't wait up, alright?" You say distractedly, already rising from your seat and grabbing your phone.

You shoot a quick smirk in Aemond's direction, just to let him know this is your way of getting back at him. Two can play his games.

"I'll be Quiet...I hope," you add with a wry smile, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you saunter off towards your bedroom. You make sure to put an extra sway in your hips as you walk away, just so he can get a good long look at your best asset in this tight skirt. 

You slip into your room and begin to get ready quickly, shimmying into the slinky black dress you bought on sale last week. You admire yourself in the mirror, confident and sexy, ready to take on the night and forget all about your sister'slying, cheating, manipulating bastard of a boyfriend.

Let Aemond jerk off to thoughts of you tonight, the dirty bastard. Probably will anyway, even if you're not there, you muse with a smirk, slipping on your silver kitten heels and grabbing your purse.

Aemond watches, his gaze lingering on the sway of your hips as you strut out of the room. He feels a flicker of annoyance at your snide remark, the obvious attempt at getting under his skin. Two can indeed play this game.

He turns to your sister, flashing her a disarming smile. "Ignore her," he says dismissively, waving a hand in the direction you disappeared. "You know how unpredictable your sister can be sometimes."

Your sister frowns slightly, a hint of worry in her eyes. "I just hope she's not getting mixed up with the wrong crowd again," she muses, biting her lower lip in concern.

Aemond laughs, a rich, deep sound that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Don't worry about it, my love. I'm sure she knows what she's doing." At least, he hopes she doesn't know what she's in for tonight. The thought of you stumbling home drunk and throwing yourself at some random guy causes an unfamiliar tightness in his chest. He quickly pushes the thought away, focusing instead on your sister's lovely face.

The events of the night are hazy, interspersed with flashes of strobing lights, pounding music and the warmth of too many bodies pressed together on the dance floor. You recall Jace shouting something about an Uber, but the details are lost in a haze of alcohol and adrenaline.

Somewhere between the club entrance and the bar, you found yourself getting dragged to the floor by a drunk and overeager Rhaena. Before you could protest, her hands were already gripping your hips as she pulled you back against her. You began to shamelessly dance with her, practically grinding against her on the dancefloor.

Aemond slipped further from your thoughts with each pulsing heartbeat radiating from the speakers. For a blissful, drifting moment, everything else faded away - the betrayal, the anger, the heartache. It was just Rhaena, the thumping music, and the heady, almost electric atmosphere.

You could feel the eyes of strangers on you, but in the darkness and the buzz of the crowd, you didn't care. You let the music take over, let it consume you and make you feel alive.

Rhaena grins drunkenly at you as she grinds against you on the crowded dance floor, her hands gripping your hips tightly. "Woo! You're so hot!" Rhaena shouts over the pounding music, her words slightly slurred. She's a few drinks in, her inhibitions lowered.

Baela bounces up to you both, her silver hair swishing wildly as she moves to the music. She's wearing a tight, shimmering mini dress that shows off her toned dancer's body. "Girl, we need shots!" Baela yells over the pounding beat, her eyes sparkling with excitement and a bit of intoxication.

Jace, never one to miss out on a drinking opportunity, nods eagerly. He's been eyeing the bar, ready for the next round. Cregan just smirks, his gaze flickering between you, Baela and Rhaena. The strobing lights of the club illuminate his chiselled features and the mischievous glint in his eyes as he watches the two beautiful women grind together.

You flash Cregan a coquettish smile, playfully biting your finger as you catch his heated gaze. Wiggling your eyebrows teasingly, you let out a tinkling giggle, enjoying the blatant admiration in his eyes. The strobing lights of the club dance across your beautiful features.

Cregan watches, transfixed by your playful antics with a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. His eyes rove appreciatively over your curves, lingering on the way your dress rides up your thighs as you dance. He takes a swig of his beer, never taking his heated gaze off you.

You lean in close to Baela, shouting over the deafening music and the chatter of the crowd. "Ooh, let's do tequila shots!" you suggest, your voice lilting and eager. "No, wait, vodka! Neat, no lime or salt!" Jace argues, his own words slightly slurred.

Rhaena giggles drunkenly at your shot suggestion, slinging an arm around your shoulders. "Tequila it is!" she agrees enthusiastically, already pulling you off the dance floor towards the bar. Baela and Jace follow close behind, with Jace hollering out to the bartender.

As you reach the bar, Rhaena leans in close, her alcohol-laced breath hot against your ear. "You're such a tease," she accuses playfully, jerking her chin towards where Cregan is watching you with blatant appreciation. "The poor guy looks like he wants to devour you whole."

Baela chimes in, grinning widely as the bartender lines up the shots. "I don't blame him. Look at you, working that dress like it's your job." She winks at you, her own dress riding dangerously high on her thighs as she leans against the bar.

Jace slides the shots towards you both, his own eyes a bit glazed over from drinking. "Alright ladies, bottoms up!" he cheers, already tossing his shot back.

You toss back the tequila shot, feeling the burn of the alcohol slide down your throat and warm your belly. As you set the glass down, you catch a flash of blonde hair out of the corner of your eye. Your heart seizes in panic for a moment, fearing it might be him. But as you turn to look, you realize it's not Aemond, but his older brother, Aegon.

Relief floods through you as you meet Aegon's gaze, his smile widening in recognition. You can't help but smile back, giving him a little wave. Aegon is handsome, like all the Targaryen men, but he doesn't have the same intense, almost frightening charisma as his younger brother.

Aegon returns your smile, his grin widening as he notices your relieved expression. He's always found you charming. Not to mention the way that dress hugs your curves in all the right places. He saunters over, the crowd parting easily for the handsome man.

"Aemond's girlfriend's little sister," Aegon greets, his voice a low rumble over the pounding music. "Looking as lovely as ever. What brings a pretty thing like you out tonight?" He leans against the bar beside you, his eyes roaming appreciatively over your form.

Aegon is no stranger to the effect he has on women. With his golden hair, piercing eyes, and the strong, muscular build that comes with being a Targaryen, he's used to turning heads. But there's a warmth to his demeanour that Aemond lacks, a kindness in his eyes that makes people feel at ease in his presence.

He watches as Rhaena, Baela and Jace chat and laugh, already a bit tipsy. His gaze flickers back to you, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. 

You lean back against the bar, casually crossing your legs as you eye up Aegon with a smirk. "Aegon, these are my friends - Baela, Rhaena, Jace and Cregan," you say loudly enough to be heard over the blaring music. You gesture to each of them in turn, noting how Baela openly checks out Aegon's handsome features while Rhaena leans in to whisper something giggling to Jace, no doubt an impressed comment about your sister's 'brother-in-law's' looks.

Turning back to Aegon, you let your gaze shamelessly wander over his muscular frame, taking in the way his tailored shirt stretches across his broad shoulders and the way his dress pants hug his lean waist. "This is Aegon, my sister's boyfriend's older brother," you introduce him with a naughty lilt to your voice.

Aegon knows he's being checked out, and he takes your brazen appraisal as an invitation to do the same. His eyes slowly travel the length of your body, lingering on the swell of your breasts, the dip of your waist, and the way the skirt of your dress rides up your thigh.

"A pleasure to meet you all," he says smoothly, his eyes glinting with amusement. He turns back to you, his gaze intense and appraising. "And an even greater pleasure to see you again. You look absolutely stunning," he adds, his voice lowering to a more intimate tone.

Aegon flags down the bartender, ordering another round of tequila shots for everyone. "Drinks are on me tonight," he declares, sliding the shots towards you and your friends with a wink.

As the night goes on, Aegon stays close by your side, his hand either resting on the small of your back or holding yours possessively as you dance. He makes it clear he finds you captivating, desirable even. His flirtations grow bolder with each drink, his body pressing closer to yours as the crowd jostles around you both on the dance floor.

You grin as Aegon's hands boldly explore your curves while you move to the beat, a shiver running down your spine as you feel his arousal pressing insistently against your backside. You spin around to face him with a coy smile.

His eyes darken with lust as they meet yours, drinking in the sight of your flushed cheeks. You lean in close, your voice breathy as you tease, "Careful Aegon, don't get too excited now."

You punctuate your words with a playful swat to his muscular chest, feeling his firm muscle beneath your palm. Glancing over at Baela and Rhaena, you see them watching your exchange with curious eyes and understanding grins.

You roll your eyes at them playfully before turning your attention back to the Blue-Eyed Adonis before you.

Aegon chuckles lowly at your flirtatious teasing, not put off in the least. If anything, your coy smile and the way your hand lingers on his chest only ignite the desire smouldering in his eyes.

"Oh, I'm already far too excited," he murmurs, his voice a low, intimate rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. His hand slides lower, coming to rest on the curve of your ass. He squeezes the supple flesh, pulling you more firmly against him so you can feel the hard press of his arousal.

"I could take you right here if I wanted to. Bend you over the bar and fuck you until you scream my name."

His lips brush against your ear, sending tingles down your spine. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, the sheer masculine power of him. Part of you wants to give in, to let him have his way with you right here in the middle of the crowded club. But a bigger part of you wants to make him work for it, to tease and torture him.

Your eyes glint with mischief as you meet his heated gaze. "Is that a promise or a threat?" you ask, a kittenish smile playing at the corners of your mouth.

Aegon leans in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he speaks. "Perhaps we should get out of here and find somewhere... more private," he suggests, his tone leaving no doubt about his intentions.

He glances over at Baela and Rhaena, who are not-so-subtly looking and mouthing 'holy shit' at you. Aegon smirks, clearly amused by their reaction.

Turning his attention back to you, Aegon reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering to caress your cheek. "What do you say, little one? Ready to get out of here and have some real fun?" he coaxes, his thumb brushing over your lower lip teasingly.

You lean in close, your lips brushing against Aegon's ear as you whisper sultrily, "I've been hoping you'd say something like that all night."

Your fingertips dance along his chiselled jawline before giving his earlobe a playful nip, tugging lightly. "My bed sound good enough for you?"

You press your body flush against his, letting him feel every curve and contour. "Tonight, you can do whatever you want with me~" you breathe. Your hand boldly cups the prominent bulge in his tailored trousers, giving it a teasing squeeze.

"Unless you'd rather stay and give my friends here a real show," you add with a coquettish wink at Baela and Jace, who watch your heated exchange with avid fascination.

His eyes darken with lust and he inhales sharply, the prominent bulge in his trousers twitching under your bold touch. He’s already imagining all the things he wants to do to your lush body, the ways he wants to make you scream and beg for more.

Aegon's lips curve into a wicked grin at your teasing offer to give your friends a show. "Tempting," he murmurs, one hand sliding down to grope your ass roughly. "I'd love to fuck you in front of an audience." His other hand tangles in your hair, tugging your head back to expose the column of your throat. "But I want you all to myself tonight," he growls. "I'm going to take you home and use this sexy little body of yours in ways you've never been used before."

"Enough to drink? I'm ready to go whenever you are," he says, getting restless by now.

"Come on then," you purr, smirking up at Aegon with a wink. "Call the cab, I'm ready to go."

You blow kisses goodbye to Baela and Rhaena, giggling mischievously as you start leading Aegon out of the crowded club, your hips swaying with each step. The anticipation of the night ahead makes your heart flutter with excitement.

Aegon smirks as you lead the way out of the club, his eyes glued to your backside. He keeps a possessive hand on your lower back as he guides you out into the cool night air. The cab arrives quickly, and Aegon opens the door for you, allowing you to slip inside before sliding in beside you.

As the cab pulls away from the curb, Aegon's hand finds your thigh, his fingers. He starts to slowly slide his hand up your thigh, inching closer and closer to your centre. "Can't keep my hands off you," he murmurs, leaning in close. "You have no idea how much I want you."

Aegon's lips find your neck, placing hot kisses along the sensitive skin. His hand creeps higher, pushing the hem of your dress up as his fingers brush against your lace panties. He can feel the damp heat emanating from your core, making him let out a whine against your neck.

His eyes flash with lust as they meet yours in the darkness of the cab. His other hand comes up to cup your cheek, tilting your face towards his. "I can't wait to get my hands on you," he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours in a teasing, promise-filled kiss.

You can't help but shiver with anticipation, your body already aching for his touch. You know this is going to be a chance to get revenge on your sister's lying boyfriend in the most delicious way possible.

The cab rolls to a smooth halt outside the familiar apartment building, the sudden stillness a stark contrast to the pulsing energy of the club. You gather your clutch and step out onto the pavement, one shapely leg at a time.

Aegon emerges a moment later from the cab with an air of casual confidence. He places a hand on the small of your back as you walk towards the entrance, his touch igniting sparks beneath the thin fabric of your dress.

As you approach the door, you pull ahead slightly, fishing your keys from your purse. With a coy smile, you glance back over your shoulder at Aegon. "You don't have to wait a moment longer," you whisper, the night air cool against your flushed cheeks.

Your fingers tremble slightly as you slip the key into the lock, a thrill of excitement and nerves coursing through you. Over your shoulder, you see the hunger in Aegon's eyes, the way they drink in every inch of your form in the dim light of the entryway. You know he wants you, and the knowledge sends heat coursing through your body.

Biting your lip softly, you step inside, holding the door open and letting Aegon follow you in.

Aegon follows you inside, his eyes never leaving your swaying hips and the tantalizing view of your ass. As soon as he’s through the door, he kicks it shut behind him and immediately pulls you flush against his hard chest. "I don't want to wait another moment," he murmurs hotly, his hands gripping your hips possessively as he walks you backwards towards your bedroom.

His lips find yours in a searing, passionate kiss. It's a kiss full of pent-up desire and hunger, a kiss that speaks to just how much he wants you. His tongue delves into your mouth, tangling with yours and exploring every inch of you. He tastes like tequila and sin, and you can't get enough.

Aegon's hands roam your curves greedily as he walks you to your room. He squeezes the globes of your ass, pulling you harder against the prominent bulge in his trousers. His fingers dipped under the hem of your dress, teasing the soft skin of your thighs. He wants to touch and feel every inch of you.

Breaking the kiss, Aegon tugs you into your bedroom, his eyes burning into yours. He looks around your room, taking in the feminine space before his gaze lands back on you. A wicked grin spreads across his face as his eyes rake over your body, drinking in the sight of you.

Without warning, Aegon reaches out and grabs you, pulling you back against his hard chest. He kisses along your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as his hands grip your hips. He wants to mark you, to claim you, to make you his. He wants to fuck you until you forget your name and only remember his.

Aemond tosses and turns in bed, his mind a whirlwind of twisted thoughts and dark imaginings of you. He can't get the image of your scantily clad body grinding against another out of his head, no matter how hard he tries.

His hand moves faster over his aching cock, stroking himself with hard, punishing grips. He pictures you pinned against the wall of the club's bathroom, your dress hiked up around your waist as some nameless man pounds into you from behind. The thought makes him groan, his hips bucking up into his fist.

Just as Aemond nears the edge, he hears the front door slam open downstairs. He freezes, his heart pounding in his chest as he wonders if it's you stumbling home, drunk and reeking of sex and another man's cologne.

Your sister bursts into the bedroom, fresh out of the shower. "Did you hear the door? Looks like she's finally home...." she starts to say, before noticing Aemond's state of undress and the obvious bulge in the sheets. He exhales heavily, his cock softening slightly at the interruption.

"Oh!" she gasps, a pretty blush spreading across her face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you. I just thought..." She trails off, biting her lip as she takes in the sight of her boyfriend stroking his impressive erection.

Aemond forces a smile, trying to hide his lingering distraction and frustration. "It's alright, love," he says smoothly. "I think your sister just got back from her little night out. Probably passed out somewhere."

He hopes you're okay because right now, he's in no state to go check on you. Not with his cock still throbbing and his mind full of depraved thoughts.

Aegon's eyes darken with lust as you slip out of your tight dress, the fabric pooling around your feet and leaving you in nothing but a lacy black lingerie set. Your hardened nipples peeking through the delicate material. A thin strip of lace runs between your legs, barely covering your most intimate area.

You step forward as your fingers start to slowly unbutton his shirt. You lean in close, your soft lips brushing against his neck as you whisper sultrily, "You like what you see?"

Your voice is a breathy purr, dripping with seductive promise. You place teasing little kisses along his neck and jaw, feeling his pulse jump beneath your lips. Making Aegon's head fall back, a low groan rumbling in his chest.

Aegon's breathing grows heavier as his eyes rake over your nearly nude form, taking in every inch of exposed skin and curves. The black lace of your lingerie leaves little to the imagination, and he can see the way your nipples strain against the delicate material. His cock throbs almost painfully in his trousers, aching to be buried inside your tight heat.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," Aegon growls, his large hands gripping your hips and pulling you flush against him. He can feel every inch of your body pressed against his, and it ignites a hunger in him that he can barely control.

As you slip the shirt off completely, your hands roam over his muscular torso, exploring the hard planes and ridges. You walk your fingers up his chest, feeling his abs flex beneath your touch. Leaning in, you capture his lips in a deep, sensual kiss, your tongue teasing the seam of his mouth.

"I want you so badly Aegon," you murmur against his lips, your voice ragged with desire. Your hands slide down to his belt, starting to undo it with nimble fingers. "I need you to fuck me, right here, right now. I want you to claim me, make me yours."

In one swift movement, Aegon sweeps you up into his strong arms, carrying you over to the bed. He tosses you down onto the mattress, crawling over you with a wicked grin. "Keep begging for my cock like the needy little slut you are," he commands, his fingers hooking into the delicate lace of your panties. With a sharp tug, he tears your panties off with a rough tug, the flimsy lace giving way easily to his strength.

He tosses the ruined garment aside, leaving you bare and exposed before him. His eyes drink in the sight of your glistening pussy, already dripping with arousal.

"Look at this pretty cunt, so wet and ready for my cock," Aegon growls, his fingers brushing teasingly along your slick folds. He circles your clit with the pad of his thumb, feeling it throb under his touch. "You're fucking drenched, you filthy girl. Are you really this fucking needy?"

Aegon makes quick work of his belt and trousers, shoving them down his thighs along with his boxers. His thick, hard cock springs free, the swollen head already leaking with desire. He strokes himself a few times, smearing the bead of pre-cum down his impressive length.

Crawling back over you, Aegon settles between your spread thighs, the thick head of his cock nudging against your entrance. He teases you with shallow thrusts, letting you feel how big and hard he is, how much he wants to split you open.

"Beg for it," Aegon demands, his voice a low, dominant rumble.

"Oh god, Aegon..." you moan, your head lolling back against the pillow as you feel his thick cockhead teasing your aching, soaked folds. "Please, I can't take it anymore! I've been dripping for you all night, from the moment we started dancing together at the club."

You lock your eyes with his, desperation and lust swirling in their depths. "I already wanted you to bend me over the bathroom counter and fuck me hard like a nasty slut," you confess shamelessly, your cheeks flushed with arousal and a hint of embarrassment at your brazen words. "I've been imagining how amazing your huge cock would feel splitting me open, filling and stretching me."

You spread your thighs even wider, putting yourself on a lewd display. "Please Aegon, I'm begging you," you whimper, your voice dripping with need. "Use me like the desperate, cock-hungry slut I am." Your voice grew louder and louder, already forgetting that just in the other room your sister and Aemond were probably sleeping.

Aemond's eye snaps open as your desperate pleas ring out, your voice echoing through the apartment. He can hear every word, from the lustful moans to the shameless begging for his cock. His jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he listens to you reduced to a wanton mess, so consumed by desire that you've forgotten all sense of volume control.

Beside him, your sister jolts up, blinking in confusion. She looks towards the door, her brows furrowing as she hears the obscene noises spilling from your room. "What the fuck?" she mutters.

Aemond grabs her wrist, stopping her. "Don't," he says shortly, his voice strained. He shakes his head when she opens her mouth to protest, silencing her with a sharp jerk of his chin towards the door. "Listen," he says quietly.

Together, they sit in tense silence, your sister's eyes widening as she realizes what she's hearing. Aegon is pounding into you hard enough to rock the bed against the wall, the headboard slamming rhythmically. His hips are smacking loudly against your ass, punctuating every powerful thrust. The room is filled with the vulgar sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and your cries of ecstasy.

Aegon is wrecking your pussy, claiming it with ruthless strokes of his thick cock. He's thrusting into you so hard that the bed creaks and groans in protest. The sounds of your pleasure fill the apartment, leaving no question as to what'shappening in your bedroom. Aegon is so deep inside you, stretching you wide around his girth, just as you begged him to do.

Aemond sits rigidly on the bed, jaw clenched and hands fisted in the sheets as your shameless moans and the sounds of carnality fill the air. His heart pounds violently against his ribs, a wild mix of anger, disgust, and a sickening twist of arousal coursing through him. The lecherous symphony of your coupling assaults his ears, each lewd noise a dagger twisting in his gut. 

Aegon's hips piston relentlessly against yours, the force of his thrusts rocking the bed frame against the wall with a rhythmic thud. Slick, obscene squelches and the vulgar slap of flesh against flesh echo through the apartment, punctuated by your whorish cries for more, for harder, begging to be used like the desperate cock-hungry slut you apparently are. 

Your sister's face pales as the reality of the situation sinks in, her eyes wide with shock. She stares at Aemond as if waiting for an explanation. But Aemond remains still, his expression grim, unable to meet her horrified gaze. 

He's never felt such an overwhelming surge of rage, revulsion, and perverse, twisted jealousy. Hearing you degrade yourself for another man, screaming in ecstasy, begging to be used...it's unforgivable. It makes his blood boil and his cock throb in a way it shouldn't, given the circumstances.

Aegon is ruining you, claiming you, fucking you with a ruthless, punishing intensity. And from the sounds of it, you'reloving every second of it. 

Your sister finally finds her voice. "Oh wow... I didn't think my sister liked it this rough..."

Aegon snarls, his hips pounding into yours with brutal force as your begging drives him wild with lust. He hooks your legs over his broad shoulders, nearly bending you in half as he looms over you, his muscular frame caging you in. The new angle lets him plunge even deeper, his heavy balls slapping lewdly against your ass with every savage thrust.

Your slick walls clench and flutter around his pistoning cock, gripping him like a vice. The obscene squelch of your juices fills the room, mixing with the erotic slap of skin against skin and your wanton cries. Aegon's eyes are wild, blazing with possessive hunger as he ruthlessly claims your body, using you like the cock-starved slut you are.

"That's it, take my fucking cock," Aegon growls, one hand fisting in your hair as he pounds into you. "This is what you wanted. To be split open on another man's dick, used like a filthy little fuck toy?" 

He leans down and crushes his mouth to yours, swallowing your screams of ecstasy. His tongue plunders your mouth, dominating you completely. All the while, he never slows the brutal pace of his thrusts, each one striking that perfect spot deep inside you that makes you see stars.

"Ohhhh f-fuuuuck, yesss!" You wailed, your voice cracking with raw pleasure as Aegon's massive cock pummeled your cervix with ruthless precision. Tears of pure ecstasy streamed down your cheeks, your hair splayed wildly across the pillow. "Thank you, thank you, thankyouthankyou!" You chanted deliriously, too lost in sensation to form coherent words.

Your back arched sharply, pressing your tits against Aegon's chiselled chest as you clenched around him. "H-harder," you whimpered desperately, your eyes rolling back in your head as you surrendered completely to the brutal pleasure radiating from your core. "Please, I n-need...I need..." you trailed off, unable to even articulate what you craved, your mind shattered by the relentless, mind-numbing bliss of Aegon's animalistic rutting.

The obscene squelch of your dripping cunt taking his merciless pounding filled your ears, punctuated by the slam of flesh against flesh and your escalating wails of ecstasy.

"You want it harder?" Aegon taunts, his voice a low, dark rumble. "You want me to destroy this greedy cunt?" Without waiting for a response, he leans down as he looms over you with your legs still on his shoulders. The new angle lets him plunge even deeper, his heavy balls slapping lewdly against your ass with every savage thrust.

Your pussy is drenched, soaking his cock and dripping down onto the sheets beneath you.

"Fuck, you're squeezing me so tightly," Aegon growls, his eyes wild with primal hunger as he stares down at your pleasure-drunk face. "Such a good little cock sleeve, taking me so well." He captures your mouth in a brutal kiss, swallowing your screams of ecstasy as he continues to pound into you with ruthless intensity.

His hand moves from your hair to your throat, wrapping around it possessively as he squeezes slightly. He can feel your pulse fluttering wildly beneath his fingers, matching the erratic beat of his own heart. Aegon knows he's taking you to the brink of what you can handle, pushing you to the very edge of your limits.

Aegon snarls like a wild beast as he feels your pussy spasm and clench around him, gripping his cock. Your desperate, incoherent cries and the way you arch your back, presenting your perfect tits to him, only fuel his lust. He wants to ruin you, to fuck you so hard that you'll be ruined for any other man.

Aemond sits frozen as your screams of bliss and the lewd sounds of your coupling flood the apartment. It's like a punch to the gut, hearing the woman he actually wants debasing herself on another man's cock, begging to be used harder. The obscene noises fill him with sickening jealousy and a twisted, shameful arousal he can't deny.

Your sister stares at Aemond in shock, her mouth agape. "Is she...is she okay? That sounds rough..." She looks towards the door.

Aemond jolts as if electrified when he finally registers the name falling from your lips in ecstasy over and over again. His heart stops, a cold sweat breaking out over his skin as the horrible realization crashes over him like a bucket of icy water.

White-hot rage explodes through Aemond's veins, his vision flaring red at the edges. Aegon, his own brother, is violating his girlfriend's little sister in the most degrading way possible. Using her like a cheap fucktoy, pounding into her so hard that the whole apartment knows what a filthy slut she is for him.

Aegon.

Aegon is the one fucking you. Aegon is the one ruining you. Aegon is the one claiming your body in the most primal way imaginable.

Aegon's name falls from your lips like a prayer, a mantra repeated with every devastating thrust. "Aegon, Aegon, Aegon!" You scream, your back bowing off the bed as he fucks you into the mattress with ruthless intensity. The bed creaks and groans under the force of his lovemaking, the headboard slamming against the wall with every snap of his hips.

Your sister looks at Aemond with wide, horrified eyes. "That's...that's your brother, isn't it?" she asks breathlessly. "Your brother is - is he really fucking my sister like that?"

Aemond's jaw clenches, his hands fisting in the sheets as he nods numbly. His mind is reeling, a vicious storm of jealous rage and unwanted, twisted arousal swirling inside him. He can't believe it. He can't believe out of all the guys in the club you could've brought home, you're letting his older brother fuck you stupid.

Your fingers fly to your clit as Aegon squeezes your throat, making your world explode into a million pieces.

"Fuck! I fucking love your huge cock so much," you wail shamelessly, too lost in ecstasy to care how utterly slutty you sound. Tears stream down your flushed cheeks as you feel Aegon throbbing deep inside, splitting you open so perfectly. His smirk above you only pushes you closer to the edge.

"I-I can feel you, Aegon..." you sob, your pussy clenching and spasming uncontrollably around his pistoning length. "I can feel you in my fucking guts, holy shit!" Your eyes, hazy with lust, can barely focus on Aegon's handsome face as you cry from pleasure.

Aemond feels like he's been punched in the stomach, the air leaving his lungs in a brutal whoosh. Rage, jealousy, and a sick sense of lust churn violently inside him as he listens to you screaming his brother's name, begging for more as Aegon abuses your pussy.

His brother. His fucking brother Aegon is the one splitting you open, claiming your body with ruthless, animalistic fucking. The bed creaks and groans, the headboard slamming against the wall with every devastating thrust. Aegon must be pounding into you with enough force to leave bruises, fucking you like the desperate, cock-starved slut you've become.

The whole fucking apartment knows now what a whore you are for his brother. The way you're screaming, the obscene sounds of flesh slapping against flesh...you're not even trying to be quiet.

Not to mention the fucking tears. You're crying from pleasure, sobbing his brother's name like your life depends on it.

"You fucking love it, don't you?" Aegon snarls above you, his hand tightening around your throat. "Love the way my cock is splitting you open, reshaping this hungry cunt to fit me like a glove?" He leans down and captures your mouth in a brutal kiss

Aegon grins wickedly as he feels your pussy clamp down on his cock like a silken vice, gripping him rhythmically as you cum hard. "That's it, cum on this fucking cock," he snarls, his hips never slowing their brutal pace. "I want to feel this slutty little cunt milking me dry."

His intense gaze locks with yours, his eyes burning into your soul as your world shatters around you. You shake and convulse beneath him, a silent scream ripping from your raw throat as your climax crashes through you like a tidal wave of ecstasy. Tears stream freely down your cheeks.

Your wide, glazed eyes stare up at Aegon in helpless, mindless rapture, seeing nothing but him. You're utterly lost, drowning in the overwhelming pleasure that's consuming your every sense and thought. You can't speak, can't form a single coherent word or syllable as your trembling body surrenders completely to the exquisite agony of your release.

You can only feel - the scorching heat of Aegon's skin, the slick, obscene slide of his thick cock pounding into your fluttering, grasping pussy, the way your ass jiggles and bounces with every relentless thrust. Your breasts heave and strain beneath him, your nipples grazing his chest with each devastating surge of his hips.

Aegon doesn't let up, fucking you straight through your climax with ruthless intensity. He's merciless, pounding into your spasming cunt like a man possessed, forcing you to take every thick, throbbing inch of him. The sensation of his heavy balls slapping lewdly against your ass with each thrust only prolongs the mind-melting ecstasy.

You're just a vessel for his pleasure now, a set of holes for him to use and ruin as he sees fit. Your body is no longer your own as you writhe and thrash beneath him.

Aegon leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he growls filthy words. "Fuck, look at you. Coming apart so beautifully on my cock. You were made for this, made to be fucked stupid and used for my pleasure."

He pistons his hips at a brutal pace, the obscene slap of skin against skin echoing through the room. Aegon is fucking you right through your climax, not letting you come down from your high at all. Each thrust rocks the bed frame, the headboard slamming against the wall with enough force to leave a dent.

"Fuck, I'm going to cum," Aegon snarls against your throat, his thrusts becoming erratic and uncontrolled. "I'm going to fucking fill this hungry little hole. You want that, don't you? Want me to pump you full?"

With a roar, Aegon buries himself to the hilt inside you, his cock jerking and pulsing as he finds his release. He grinds his pelvis hard against yours, making sure you can feel every hot, thick spurt of his cum painting your insides.

Aemond lunges to his feet, a snarl ripping from his throat as he starts to storm towards the door. His girlfriend jumps up and grabs his arm, stopping him cold. She stares at him with wide, shocked eyes, her face pale and stricken.

"What the hell are you doing?" she demands, her voice shaking. "They're literally having sex in there! Does it really bother you that much, hearing them..." She trails off, biting her lip as another lewd shriek echoes from your room, followed by the crude slap of flesh against flesh and the rhythmic creaking of the bed.

Aemond's jaw clenches, his eyes flashing with a chaotic mix of rage and jealous lust. "Yeah, it does," he grits out, his voice low and dark. "You're my girlfriend, not her. I should be able to fuck you harder and make you scream louder, not listen to my brother ruin the little slut."

He shakes his head, his expression grim and unforgiving. "I can't stand the thought of Aegon touching her, tasting her..." He squeezes his eyes shut, the obscene sounds still filling his ears. 

Aemond's hands clench into fists at his sides, his whole body trembling with barely restrained fury and a sick, twisted arousal he can't comprehend. He's never felt so violently possessive before, so consumed by jealous rage.

His girlfriend looks at him with a mix of anger and betrayal in her eyes. "Well get over it, 'cause it's happening. Your brother is the one fucking her stupid, not you," she points out coldly. "Maybe if you treated me half as good as he's treating her..." she trails off bitterly.

"A-Aegon... I can feel you, oh god, I can feel you pumping me so full..." Your voice is breathy and weak, your body trembling as you feel Aegon's hot, thick seed flooding your insides. "Mmmnh... it's so much, I can feel it leaking out..." You bite your lower lip, a shaky moan escaping you as the rivulets of his cum start to seep out from where you're still intimately connected.

"Thank you... for ruining me..." You gaze up at him with hazy, adoring eyes, your hair splayed messily across the pillow, your cheeks flushed and dewy. "Mmm... I feel like I'm your personal cum dump now." You clench your walls around him and giggle, trying to milk out every last drop of his release.

"I love feeling your cum leaking out of my fucked hole... I'm so happy I let you use me like this." A soft, dazed smile plays on your lips as you savour the intimate feeling of your bodies remaining joined. "I've never felt so full."

Aegon's expression softens as he looks down at your dazed, blissed-out face. He brushes a few strands of hair from your forehead, tucking them gently behind your ear. "You did so well, taking my cock like that," he murmurs, his thumb caressing your cheek. "I've never felt anyone as tight as you before."

He leans down and presses a surprisingly tender kiss to your lips, his other hand sliding down to squeeze your ass possessively. "Look at you, covered in sweat and my cum," Aegon says with a smirk, trailing his fingers through the mess leaking from between your legs. "I've marked you as mine now."

Aegon carefully scoops you up into his strong arms, cradling you against his bare chest as he maneuvers you both to lay on your sides. He pulls the blanket up over your naked, trembling body, tucking you in like a precious treasure. "Get some rest," he orders softly, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "You earned it after that performance."

Aegon holds you close, letting you bask in the afterglow of your intense coupling. His heartbeat is slow and steady beneath your ear, a soothing rhythm that lulls you into a state of tranquillity.

Outside the bedroom, Aemond is still arguing with his girlfriend, his expression dark and stormy. He's pacing back and forth, his fists clenched at his sides as the sounds of you and Aegon's coupling still fill the air.

"Why can't you just let it go?!" his girlfriend argues, her voice rising. "Your brother is in there fucking my sister into a coma! Who cares?! She's an adult!"

Aemond whirls on her, his eyes flashing. "Of course I fucking care!" he snarls. "I'm just - I can't believe she'd let him do that to her. In your shared fucking apartment." He runs a hand through his hair in frustration, his jaw clenching.

Aemond's girlfriend glares at him, her eyes flashing with anger and betrayal. "Oh, you mean like how you haven't fucked me into a coma in months?!" she snaps back, crossing her arms over her chest. "I've seen the way you look at her, Aemond. Like she's some prized piece of ass you wish was yours."

Aemond recoils as if slapped, his face paling. "That's not - I would never…" he starts to protest, but she cuts him off with a bitter laugh.

"Save it," she scoffs, rolling her eyes. "You think I haven't noticed? The way your eyes follow her every move, the little glances you sneak when you think I'm not looking." She steps closer to him, jabbing a finger into his chest. "Face it, Aemond. You want to fuck your own girlfriend's little sister. You're just pissed it's Aegon doing it instead of you."

Aemond's jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he glares down at her. "Watch your fucking mouth," he grits out, his voice low and dangerous. "That's not - I'm not - " He breaks off, gripping the back of his neck as he turns away from her.

His girlfriend laughs again, a harsh, grating sound. "You can't even deny it," she points out coldly. "You're jealous that Aegon is the one fucking her, not you. Well, get over it. She's not your property, Aemond. She can fuck whoever she wants."

With that, she turns on her heel and storms off towards the kitchen, leaving Aemond alone in the bedroom. He stands there for a long moment, his chest heaving with angry breaths as he tries to collect himself.

You peek up at Aegon through your lashes, a playful smirk tugging at your kiss-swollen lips as you hear the muffled shouts and a female voice rising in anger in the other room. You nestle closer to Aegon's warm, muscular body, relishing in the intimate feeling of your sweat-slicked skin still pressed together.

"Mmm, by the way, I think your brother's out there losing his mind," you murmur, tracing idle patterns on Aegon's chest with your fingertip. You giggle softly. "Poor thing seems pretty worked up about you defiling the 'precious little princess', hmm?" You tease, your voice breathy and low.

Aegon chuckles, a wicked grin spreading across his handsome face as he hears the muffled shouts and angry voices coming from the other room. "Sounds like he's in quite a state," he remarks casually, seemingly unfazed by the drama unfolding outside the bedroom door.

He rolls onto his side, facing you with a smirk playing on his lips. "Poor, dear Aemond," Aegon mocks, his voice dripping with disdain. "Probably wishing it was his cock splitting you open instead of mine."

Aegon reaches out, grabbing your chin and tilting your head to look up at him. His eyes burn into yours, intense and possessive. "Let him be jealous," he growls. "You're mine now, not his. I'll make sure of that."

With that declaration, Aegon crushes his lips against yours in a searing, dominating kiss. His tongue pushes past your lips, claiming your mouth with a fierce hunger. It's clear he has no intention of letting his brother have you, no matter how much Aemond might want it.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Breakfast II

Ellie Carpenter x Daniëlle van de Donk x Child!Reader

Summary: Your pitch check is interrupted by someone familiar

You rub your eyes as your Mamma unwraps the sandwich she'd packed for you. Honestly, it's a bit too early for you to be fully awake because you and Ellie went out to the cinema last night while Mamma did media stuff for the club.

You didn't particularly want to join in on the pitch check (it was the same pitch as usual) but Mamma had lured you with the promise of food and a nap before the game started.

"Ellie, no," You whine when Mamma's girlfriend tries to take a piece," It's mine."

"What?" She jokes," You can't share?"

You wrinkle your nose at her. "No."

"Oh, come on!"

You stick your tongue out at her and she laughs, mushing your hat further down on your head so it almost covers your eyes.

"Ellie!"

"What, I didn't do anything!"

"Mamma! Ellie's eating my food again!"

"Daan, don't listen to her! I was only joking!"

Your Mamma made a point of ignoring you both and letting you squabble between yourselves. You had gotten better with Ellie as time went on and now all of your arguments were small and over little things rather than what the big battles they used to be.

"Alright! That's it!" Ellie grabs you suddenly, flipping you over her shoulder in a fireman's carry, making sure to bounce more than necessary as she runs to catch up with Daan.

You shriek at the movement and Mamma smiles fondly at you as you try to reach out for help. She just holds your hand in hers, swinging it between your bodies as Ellie munches on your sandwich, leaving half it for you.

"Ellie!" You laugh as she spins around quickly before dumping you on the floor, where you stumble around dizzily for several seconds before slumping to the ground.

"Mamma!" You say," Ellie's being mean again!"

"And what do you want me to do about that?" Mamma teases.

You pretend to think for a moment. "You should tell her off! Or...Or do the same to her!"

Both Mamma and Ellie laugh at you.

"I'm being serious!"

Mamma runs a hand through your head and offers you back your sandwich. "We'll see," She says finally," If Ellie's being mean later I'll definitely tell her off."

You stink your tongue out at Ellie in triumph, who just rolls her eyes at you.

"I'm bored," You declare not even five minutes later as you walk between your mother and her girlfriend," Can I get a snack?"

"Is the food I feed you not enough?" Mamma asks with a wry smile and you give her a deadpan look.

"Snacks? Please?"

She sighs like you've greatly inconvenienced her even though you all know that she's joking. She fishes some money out of her pocket and send you on your way.

"I want a chocolate!" She yells after you.

"And get me a drink!" Ellie yells too.

"Get your own, Ellie!" You answer her with your own joking smile as you scamper back inside to the nearest vending machine.

You have to stand on your very tiptoes to reach the higher numbers but you manage to get your snacks, Mamma's chocolate and Ellie's drink - although you know that you won't be letting her get it off you so easily.

"Well, well, well," A familiar voice says from behind you," If it isn't the littlest van de Donk. Fancy seeing you here!"

"Leah!" You exclaim, running into her arms.

"Hey, there!" Leah hugs you back tight and ruffles your hair. "Long time no see."

"You're playing Mamma soon!" You tell her and the other Arsenal girls who yell out their own greetings to you.

"We are," Leah agrees before nodding to the treats in your hands," Is that for me?"

"Actually, Leah, I'm pretty sure they must be for me," A very familiar voice joins you and you turn to look at Beth.

Mamma and Beth were together a long time before Mamma got with Ellie. Beth used to take you to school and help with your baths at night.

When you and Mamma left and they broke up, you didn't hear from Beth anymore.

You're not too sure how to react to her so you just smile politely and scamper off back onto the pitch. You break out into a sprint the moment you can't hear the Arsenal girls. You can't find Mamma anywhere.

It's like she's disappeared on you.

So, you run to the next best thing.

Ellie is talking with Lindsey and she almost loses her balance when you crash into her.

Lindsey laughs. "Alright there, roadrunner? Meep, meep!"

But Ellie just looks at you with a frown, taking in the way your shoulders are rising and falling and you send worried glances back at the tunnel.

"Whoa, whoa," Ellie says," What's going on?" She follows your gaze. "What happened?"

"Where's Mamma?" You answer with your own question," I...I want Mamma."

"Daan's doing an interview," Ellie answers," Why?"

You look up at Ellie with wide eyes. "Mamma and Beth used to date."

"Yes?"

"Beth's here," You continue," But I haven't talked to her in a while. Do I have to be friends with Beth because she and Mamma used to date?"

Ellie pulls you into her arms, squeezing you nice and tight against her. "You don't have to be friends with anyone you don't want to."

"Who isn't she friends with?" Mamma appears behind you, looking a little confused. The snacks you got are scattered on the floor and you're hugging Ellie just as tight as she's hugging you - something that never really happens and never in public like now.

"Beth's here," You say," Do I have to be friends with her?"

Mamma misunderstands you. "You can still be friends with Beth if you want."

You shake your head and try to explain more but Beth's approaching and you find yourself sliding behind Ellie.

"Hey, Daan," Beth says, hugging Mamma, who hugs her back," Ellie." She smiles at you. "It's good to see you, y/n."

You smile politely again and busy yourself with opening your packet of sweets. Your hands are shaking slightly and you can't think why.

You know Beth.

You like Beth.

But her presence and smiling face still makes you feel nervous.

You lean some of your weight against Ellie, whose hand immediately clamps onto your shoulder in comfort.

Mamma and Beth talk for a while but Ellie keeps you busy and distracted by letting you take long chugs of her drink - even though it's very sugary and Mamma would never let you have it if she hadn't been talking to Beth.

"She's gotten so big," Is what Beth's saying when you tune back into their conversation," I remember when she was tiny. Does she still like being carried on your hip?"

"She likes riding on shoulders," Ellie cuts in when she notices you tense at Beth reminiscing," Don't you?"

You nod. "I'm too big to sit on Mamma and Ellie's hips."

Beth looks at you a little strangely for a moment before nodding with a little laugh. "God, you used to follow me around all the time. I miss my little shadow sometimes."

For you ears early, Ellie mutters," But not enough to call every once in a while." She spoke a bit louder for Mamma and Beth to hear too," She doesn't really like following anyone around anymore." She pokes at your cheek teasingly. "She's too independent."

Mamma rolls her eyes. "Independent?" She gives you a toothy smile, leaning down to kiss your head. "You crawled into bed with us last night because Ellie took you to a scary movie."

"It wasn't a scary movie!" Ellie defends," It just had a few freaky parts! It was animated!"

"Ellie told me too!" You say quickly," She said that I could sleep with you!"

Mamma laughs, ruffling your hair. "So I have Ellie to blame, huh?"

"We're partners in crime," Ellie says and you burrow into her side with a silly grin," Me and her forever."

You catch Beth's eye. She looks a little misty-eyed and you can just tell that she's thinking of the little girl you used to be and not the you that's standing in front of her now.

But you're not that little girl anymore and you look away to face Ellie, who is happy to meet your eyes and take your head in hers.

You're very clearly still feeling awkward around Beth, especially as she reminisces about how little you used to be when she first met you, so Ellie pulls you into her side.

"Hey, Daan," She says," Me and my partner in crime are going to head back inside. My drink's done."

"Are you getting more snacks out the vending machine?" Daan teases and you look up at her with an innocent smile. "Oh, don't give me that look!"

"What look?" You tease.

Mamma pokes at your cheek. "That look. You want me to bankroll your snack spree."

You bat your eyelashes at her. "Is it working?"

Mamma laughs, slapping a small wad of cash into your hands. "Don't go crazy. You'll get a stomach ache." She points at Ellie. "I mean it."

Ellie winks and presses a kiss to Mamma's cheek before hoisting you up onto her shoulders. "Bye Daan!"

"Bye Mamma!" You say, waving as Ellie carts you away," Bye Beth!"

[kangaracha]

QUEENMAKER | CHAPTER 26

---

pairing chan x reader

genre ninth member au, angst, fluff, coming of age, social media, cancel culture, anxiety, depression, forbidden love,

summary To JYPE, the solution is simple; take the sole trainee that will not debut with your brand new girl group, and use her to replace the missing vocalist in your male group that insisted on starting as nine.

Unfortunately, to the fans and the members themselves, it isn't that simple.

status ongoing

taglist OPEN

a/n my cat is very sick this weekend so leave some comments to distract me, thankyou. have a lovely weekend, cuddle your pets

previous | masterlist | next

---

Your phone drops from your hands onto the floor of the practice room, thunking softly against the hardwood. Your head follows, falling backwards in a controlled motion that ripples pain through the sore muscles of your abdomen, your legs, your back. The bright lights of the ceiling are little relief, even when you throw an arm over your tired eyes.

Your whole body aches, but that's nothing new. You've been at it for hours - and days, and months. You work hard and the crowd won't cheer, and you work harder and the company ask for more, and you put your every waking moment towards it and the fans don't see the difference, and the voices online are never happy, and the work just keeps coming, one performance after another, opportunity after opportunity to make a fool of yourself.

Your body hurts. It's inevitable. 

It's fine, even. It's been six years since you traded in youth for the promise of fame, after all; pain becomes a constant companion after a point, every dancer knows that. If your body doesn't hurt, then you're probably doing something wrong.

You have to get up. 

It's your own voice that gives the order, your mind that knows you have another performance to run through before you can be done, but your body doesn't move, the heat of it soaking into the lacquered floor. The will to dance has leeched out of your bones with it, and it feels guilty to admit that even to yourself, but there is nothing in you that wants to dance again. You kind of hate dancing right now - but this is your dream and there's one chance to get it right, and you cannot hate dance for even one moment.

You have to get up. You don't move.

The door opens, but you barely notice it, your breath settling and your eyes blocked from the light. You don't open them until the toe of a shoe nudges your side; then, you squint up at the blurry figure above you, waiting for your tired eyes to adjust again.

It's more the shape of his shoulders and the stout figure that give him away than the details of his face. "Binnie," you greet him with a sigh and rub at your face. "What's up?"

"Nothing," he answers. "Were you asleep?"

"No." You look up into his face again, but you're not sure he's convinced. "I'm just...resting."

A wry grin crosses his face, laughing out at you even as he offers you a hand up. "You looked more like you were dying," he tells you as he pulls you up into a sitting position.  "Or in a crisis."

"I am in a crisis," you quip. "I'm not very good at my job."

A finger flicks your forehead. You stare up at him accusingly, but he only shrugs. "People who say bad things about our noona get flicked," he informs you, and he doesn't sound the least bit remorseful. 

"You've got a lot of Stays to flick then," you grumble; and then add, "Slacker," to cover up the guilt that stabs at you so hard you nearly cringe at yourself. Ungrateful, he's going to say, or whiny. It's all you can think, so surely he would too. 

All he does is smile though. "After lunch," he promises. "Are you coming to eat with me?"

You stare at him, bemused. "I'm in the middle of dance practice."

Changbin frowns. "You said in the group chat that you were done."

"With that performance, yeah," you say, your hand drifting unconsciously towards your phone. "I still have the MAMA performance to try."

"It can wait until after lunch."

"Lunch can wait until after practice too."

"Not if it's that new place around the corner," he argues. "They close so early, this is my only chance."

You don't mean to, but you know your face tightens and your belly rumbles, suddenly aware of how hungry you are. "I have a diet, Changbin," you remind him gently. "There's at least four of the other kids at the company, they'll go with you."

"You've been suggested a diet," he amends without missing a beat. "Doesn't mean you have to do it."

"Do you come from another planet?" you scoff, squinting up at him. "Did we not sign the same contract?"

The smile he gives you is impish, spelling out trouble all over his face. "If you just ignore them long enough, they give up," he informs you proudly.

Your gaze runs over him again critically, tight shirt and loose pants cutting a figure you could never hope to mimic. "You're all muscle though," you point out, your finger jabbing accusingly in the direction of his chest, "even though you eat like a garbage can. Some of us are just fat."

"Garbage can?" he repeats incredulously, his voice rising with every syllable. He steps back, shaking his head, and you climb to your feet yourself, reaching back to fix your hair as you stand. "I eat like a normal person."

"Like three normal people, maybe."

"Come to lunch with me and I bet you'll eat more than me."

"You can come to lunch with me, in the cafeteria, sure."

He stares defiantly as he chooses his next words. You meet his gaze evenly. "I don't want to eat chicken and salad in the cafeteria," he whines after a moment. "Who even said that you were fat?"

"JYP himself," you deadpan, only cracking a smile at the anguished laugh that comes out of his mouth in response. "I don't know. A manager somewhere. Does it matter?"

You can see the teasing spirit drain from his face as his smile fades, his face turning to things that are softer, more serious. "As long as you know that you're pretty enough to make most of us look ugly, it doesn't matter."

You scoff again, your tongue tasting acerbic against the embarrassed red of your cheeks. "Pretty enough to be here," you reply. "Not the prettiest."

Changbin's arm is a heavy weight across your shoulders, squeezing you tightly as he all but drags you towards the door. "You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen," he says; and somehow, it is so friendly a comment that it doesn't heat your face again, nor come off as awkward; but that is Changbin's effortless charm, his friendliness. His ability to listen without judging.

Anyway, your lips curve up into a smile, your elbow digging into his side just long enough to make him let go of you so that you can open the door. "It's all plastic, buddy," you quip as he steps through, and pull it closed behind you. "I'm a modern scientific miracle."

For several seconds, he just looks at you, unsure whether to laugh or not. "Have you done anything?" he asks, just to ask, ambling along casually beside you. "You have such a nice face shape."

You contemplate your answer before you give it, your mouth opening and then closing again. "Maybe a little here and there," you say and let a little grin slip onto your face. "Maybe not. You know I was dropped from Midnight for being 'the wrong look', right?"

"I didn't know that," he says, cutting a glance at you. You wonder if, under the genuine astonishment that plays out over his face, he can see the way that acknowledgement still guts you like a knife. You'd managed to say it out loud without cringing away from it, at least; maybe the hurt is starting to dull. Maybe one of these days you'll be able to look forward at what you've got without also looking back at what they'd taken away from you.

"Well don't go changing now," Changbin says, pushing straight past the whole dilemma. "They think you're the right look for us; don't ruin it."

"I only aspire to look like you, Changbin-ssi," you assure him. 

He laughs at you; actually, properly laughs, his voice echoing down the hallway. "You can start by actually going to the gym," he tells you. "And going to eat ramen at the new place down the street. You can't claim to be Changbin when you're so small."

"Bit rich, coming from the smallest person in the group," you mutter under your breath, and you can't help but snort a laugh at the affronted shout that sounds from beside you as he tows you towards the elevators.

---

TAGLIST

@kokinu09 @rainfallingfromthesky @lixie-phoria @mysweethannie @chlodavids

@hanniemylovelyquokka @tfshouldidohere @lauraliisa @puppysmileseungmin @kalopsian-thoughts

@puppy-minnie @readerofallthingss @dvbkie099 @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @acker-night

@d-chagi @lynlyndoll @borahae-reads @ihrtlix @yienmarkk

@minhwa @i2innie @jinnie-ret @conwunder @amesification

@starssongs98 @weirdhumanbeinglol @morinuu @the-weird-mold-in-the-sink @bokkiesplace

@amyyscorner @jiisungllvr @skzstaykatsy @blackhairandbangs @jungkookies1002

@hyuuukais @imsiriuslyreal @thatonedemigodfromseoul @gini143 @mercurywritesstuff

@splat00z @filmbypsh @palindrome969 @crabrangoongirl25 @enzos-shit

@jabmastersupriseee @kayleefriedchicken @hynjinswrld @duhgurl @cheshireshiya

@keepswingin

[yestrday]

COLLEGE CLASSMATE! YUTA who has his eye on you ever since you two entered college. a young, bright-eyed thing who moved from the boonies to the big city at a chance to find out more of the world beyond your farmlands and vast expanses of grass. who noted with wry amusement the pep in your step and the twinkle in your eye as you sit in the front row like a good student with an eagerness to learn.

COLLEGE CLASSMATE! YUTA who you approach with a stunning and naive smile. you're asking him for notes, the professor being too fast for your hands to properly take notes. he asks for your sns and sends you the pics of his note, and you eagerly thank him while unaware of the glint in his eye at this opportunity.

COLLEGE CLASSMATE! YUTA who scrolls through your social media and collects information about the kind of person you are. you know little about the world, but you're eager to learn more. your comments sections are full of relatives and friends congratulating you on you enrollment in the big city, and your cheery replies of thanks and acknowledgment. yuta chuckles as he sets aside his phone, eyes still trained on your back. how cute.

COLLEGE CLASSMATE! YUTA who continues keeping an eye on you. you keep asking him for notes because your cute lil brain just can't keep up, and he notes the waver in your smile when he shows off a little bit of his intellect. from how casual he is about his studies yet still getting high marks, the distance between you two is obvious. but there's still a spark of determination in your eyes—

— until prefinal grades come around and he sees you staring blankly at your phone. yuta angles his phone on purpose to let you get a glimpse of his, and he marvels at how bleaker your expression becomes. all your hard work... all your enthusiasm and eagerness... for nothing? have you always been this stupid? you were... you were always the brightest in your local school...

COLLEGE CLASSMATE! YUTA who watches you throw yourself into your studies more than ever. you don't have that pep in your stel anymore, your eyes have become dull and beavy, and no one can strike a conversation with you because you're always asleep. yuta is your only companion, angling your head on his shoulder so that you can rest more comfortably, leveling onlookers with a stern stare as he shushes them with a finger.

COLLEGE CLASSMATE! YUTA who watches your eyes lose the last of their light when midterm grades come. your fingers are trembling as you clutch your phone, and you bite your lip to avoid the tears spilling out. yuta puts a comforting hand over yours, and you slowly clutch his shirt. "i did my best, didn't i?" you ask. yuta hums, hand on your neck. "... i did, didn't i?"

COLLEGE CLASSMATE! YUTA who is your only point of contact for the rest of the finals. you don't even try. instead, you cling to yuta like he's your last chance at validation. you preen at his compliments, blush when he says he likes your outfit. the only time the light comes back to your eyes is when his attention is on you, and you feel a sugary rush in your veins whenever he smiles at you.

you, who does nothing for their schoolwork but instead focus on making yuta happy. you latch onto him like a clingy girlfriend, and he's more than happy for you to do so. while he studies for the upcoming exams, you're cuddled up on his lap, keeping him warm for the winter months. he pats your head and rubs your temple as you doze off to sleep.

sometimes when you voice the need to study, yuta shushes such needless concerns away. "you don't need to think so much," he whispers, scratching your scalp and he watches you preen. "aren't you happy right now? with me?"

you nuzzle into his touch, eyes fluttering shut under his touch. "... yeah."

"good," he hums, kissing you on the forehead. "then don't think of anything else but me."

[lila-lou]

✨ His only exception - Pt. 28/? ✨

Summary: 12 months ago, Butcher went above and beyond to have you join his team. You had a simple office job at Supe Affairs. The same thing every day, working from 9 to 5 and watching Butcher and his team defeat one renegade after another. One evening, however, something changed.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language, angst, fluff, soft Ben, Ben being slightly insecure

Word Count: 6891

A/N: This is part 28 of “His only exception”.

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

As Ben drove to the Vought Tower, his hand remained on your thigh. You glanced over at him, noticing the tense set of his jaw, and decided to break the silence.

"How's everything going with the team?, you asked, your voice soft as you reached over to squeeze his hand.

Ben sighed, his grip tightening slightly. "I still don't trust those fuckers any farther than I can throw 'em".

It wasn't easy for Ben to trust others, especially not them.

You shook your head, still unable to believe the extent of the lies and betrayal that had unfolded within the team. The memory of how they had treated Ben made your blood boil, but you knew dwelling on it wouldn't change the past.

"I still can't believe what they did to you", you muttered, your voice tinged with anger and frustration.

Ben shrugged nonchalantly, a bitter smile playing on his lips. "Eh, it's enough justice to see their fucked-up and pissed faces every day", he replied, his tone laced with satisfaction. "Now they have to do exactly what I want".

"But… as much as I'd love to rip them apart", he admitted with a wry chuckle, "They're doing a pretty decent job. They're taking care of all the supes I want to get vanished, and the media seems to like them".

He paused, a hint of grudging respect in his voice. "Can't deny they're effective, I'll give them that", he added.

As the two of you stood in the elevator, Ben looked down at you, his expression serious. "After the meeting, I'm going with you to the doctor", he stated firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "We need to make sure everything's okay with you and the baby".

You nodded, your hand brushing softly over your stomach, a gesture of both comfort and uncertainty. "Yeah, I guess we do", you murmured softly, your voice tinged with a mixture of emotions. "It's just… all so surreal, you know?".

Ben's gaze softened as he reached out to gently squeeze your hand. "Don't worry too much about it", he reassured you, his tone surprisingly gentle.

As you stepped into the meeting room, the team was already waiting impatiently. Butcher seemed particularly annoyed, his arms crossed over his chest. The others raised eyebrows as they saw you walking slightly behind Ben, a rare sight that piqued their curiosity.

"Well, look who decided to join us. And what about you, did you crawl out from under your rock, (Y/N)?".

Before you could even respond, Ben's protective instincts kicked in, his tone sharp and defensive. "Watch your fucking mouth, Butcher", he snapped, his jaw clenched tightly. "She's here because she damn well pleases, and that's none of your business".

You shot Ben a grateful glance, appreciating his defense, but also feeling a bit annoyed at his brusque manner.

Butcher couldn't resist pushing Ben's buttons further. "Ooh, touchy, aren't we? Didn't realize you had such a soft spot for the lady".

Ben's expression darkened, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he shot Butcher a menacing glare. "Keep pushing your luck, Butcher, and you'll fucking regret it", he warned.

Ben pulled out a chair for you, gesturing for you to sit down. With crossed arms, he stood beside you, his expression stern and guarded as Butcher filled everyone in about the supes who seemed to want to stand up against the new Vought. Meanwhile, you felt some gentle movements in your belly, a sensation that both excited and unsettled you.

As Butcher spoke, Ben glanced down at you, noticing the subtle change in your demeanor. "You alright?", he murmured softly, concern flickering in his eyes.

You nodded softly, trying to concentrate on the meeting as A-Train and Annie showed some video footage. Hughie chimed in, directing his comment to Ben, "No one knows where the supes are hiding right now. They're keeping a low profile".

Ben's expression darkened as he absorbed Hughie's words, his mind already strategizing the next move. "Alright", he muttered, his voice firm. "We'll find them. Keep an eye on any leads, no matter how small".

Frenchie reminded Ben of the media conference in two hours, and Ben rolled his eyes, grumbling, "Annie should take this".

Annie raised both arms in protest, but Ben brushed her off rudely. "No, you'll fucking handle it, blondie", he insisted brusquely.

Just then, a wave of nausea hit you.

Again Ben looked down at you, noticing your pale complexion. "You´re sure you´re fucking okay?", he asked.

You shook your head slightly, feeling queasier by the moment. "I think I need some air", you mumbled, quickly stepping out of the room.

Butcher's voice followed you, gruff and concerned. "What the bloody hell is going on with her?", he demanded.

Ben waved him off dismissively, already following you out of the room. "Like i said, none of your business", he retorted sharply, his focus solely on you.

With Ben on your heels, you quickly stepped into the nearest bathroom, the urgency rising as nausea overwhelmed you. You doubled over, vomiting painfully into the toilet, your body trembling with each heave. Ben hovered nearby, concern etched into his features, but unsure of how to help in this situation.

Ben held your hair back.

"What do you need?", he asked, his voice tinged with worry. But you were unable to respond, the waves of nausea rendering you speechless.

As Ben watched you in distress, he felt a wave of helplessness wash over him. It was a rare moment of vulnerability for him, accustomed to being in control and taking charge. Seeing you in pain, and feeling powerless to alleviate it, left him feeling unusually weak and unsettled.

Annie turned to Frenchie, a curious expression on her face. "So, are Soldier Boy and (Y/N) a couple now?", she asked.

Frenchie shrugged, feigning ignorance. "Mon amie, how should I know?", he replied casually.

Annie raised an eyebrow, pointing out the fact that you seemed to like Frenchie the most.

Frenchie chuckled lightly. "Well, I don't know for sure, but it certainly seems that way", he admitted with a knowing smile.

Butcher's tone was sharp as he addressed Frenchie. "Then why's Soldier Boy still a tense asshole when he can stick one away whenever he wants?", he quipped, his words dripping with sarcasm.

Annie nudged Butcher with her elbow, shooting him a disapproving look. "Come on, Butcher, ease up", she chided, her tone firm but gentle.

"Are you fucking happy taking orders from a supe on coke with PTSD?".

Hughie mumbled, "It's better than being dead", as A-Train chimed in, "Soldier Boy's actually doing a pretty decent job, even though I hate to admit it".

"Plus he didn’t kill anyone like Homelander did, and he's actually trying to represent the supes as the good ones again", Hughie added.

Ben held you steady from behind, his grip firm yet gentle. "Are you feeling any better?", he asked.

You took a deep breath, feeling the nausea subsiding. "Yeah, a little", you replied, leaning back against him for support.

Ben helped you up, his strong arms steadying you as you made your way to the sink. After rinsing your mouth, you leaned against the sink, feeling weak and shaky. Ben stood beside you, his concern evident in his furrowed brow.

"You´re fine?", he asked softly, his hand reaching out to rub soothing circles on your back.

"Yeah, kinda", you mumbled. "This part of pregnancy is absolutely no fun at all".

With Ben's hand on your lower back, guiding you inside, you returned to the meeting. Annie eyed you suspiciously, but Ben quickly took charge, instructing everyone on what to do. Then, he stepped towards the elevator with you.

You made your way to the doctor's office for a battery of tests, with Ben steadfastly by your side, his arms crossed over his supe suit as he watched over you protectively.

The doctor reviewed your files and then turned to you. "I want to try another ultrasound", he said, his tone gentle yet determined, "Even though the last one didn't work as we hoped".

You nodded and changed into a gown, then hopped onto the examination chair. Ben stood nearby as you slowly spread your legs.

The doctor approached with the ultrasound equipment. "Take a deep breath", he instructed gently as he inserted the transducer into your vagina. You winced at the discomfort, and Ben hissed in response.

Again Ben's protective instincts flared up as he watched you wince at the discomfort. He shot a glare at the doctor, his tone laced with hostility. "Careful there", he growled, his voice low and threatening. "Don't fucking hurt her".

The doctor raised an eyebrow at Ben's hostility but remained focused on the task at hand. "I'm being as gentle as I can", he assured, trying to calm the situation.

You reached out and placed a reassuring hand on Ben's arm, silently urging him to relax.

The doctor adjusted the ultrasound machine, his eyes scanning the screen intently. But after a while, Ben got impatient.

Ben's jaw clenched as he watched the screen, his frustration mounting. "Do you fucking see anything or not?", he demanded.

"Just give me a moment", he said calmly, his tone professional despite Ben's impatience.

The doctor turned the monitor toward both of you and began to explain what he saw.

"Here", he pointed to the screen, "That's the gestational sac, and there", he moved the transducer slightly, "Is your baby".

You looked at the screen, feeling a surge of relief wash over you. Ben's grip on your hand tightened as he listened intently to the doctor's explanation.

"The heartbeat is a bit faint, but that's normal at this stage", the doctor continued. "Overall, everything looks good".

You could have sworn you saw one single tear in Ben’s eyes, but he quickly composed himself.

"I can't believe it", you whispered.

Ben actually smiled softly, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. "Me neither", he murmured. "But I'm fucking glad it's real".

As the doctor continued to measure and check everything, you couldn't help but feel a sense of amazement at the whole process. It was new territory for all of you, and the doctor seemed just as intrigued as you were.

After a moment of silence, the doctor spoke up again, his tone filled with a mix of curiosity and wonder. "It's definitely the baby of a supe", he remarked, his eyes flicking between you and Ben. "It seems the baby has some control over whether it's visible on the ultrasound or not, like… a shield".

Ben's lips twitched into a little smirk, a proud glint in his eyes at the thought of potentially making the first natural supe on earth.

"Given the circumstances, I'll need to see you as often as possible. We need to monitor your progress closely, considering the unique nature of this pregnancy and its potential effects on your health".

After another few tests and a long talk with the doctor, Ben accompanied you to his office, where you promptly collapsed onto the couch, feeling exhausted after the barrage of tests and examinations.

Ben leaned against his desk, flashing you a smirk as he commented, "Looks like carrying my baby is taking a toll on you, huh?". You just rolled your eyes at him.

Ben pushed himself back from his desk and handed you a bottle of water. “Here, drink up”, he said. “Do you want me to drive you home?”.

You shook your head, taking a sip of water. “No, I need to work”, you replied, rubbing your temples. But Ben wasn’t having any of it.

"No way", Ben insisted. "Not while you're carrying my baby".

You sighed, knowing it was futile to argue with him when he got like this. "Ben, I'll be fine", you said, trying to reassure him. "I have work to do, and I can't just abandon it".

But Ben's expression hardened, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive once more. "I don't fucking care", he stated firmly. "Your health and the baby's health come first. Besides.. I´m your fucking boss now, so… You are hereby granted a leave of absence".

"Alright", you conceded, sighing heavily. "But only because I'm too tired to argue with you".

Ben's lips curved into a satisfied smirk as he reached for his keys. "That's what I like to hear", he said, his tone playful yet firm. "Let's get you home and make sure you rest".

With that, he led you out of the office and drove you home.

As you kicked off your shoes and headed straight to the bathroom to get changed, your phone on the kitchen counter buzzed with a message from Frenchie, asking how you were doing. Ben glanced at the message, his brows furrowing slightly.

“You got a message from.. Serge", he called out towards the bathroom, his tone laced with a hint of jealousy, not knowing that thats Frenchies real name.

You emerged from the bathroom, wearing more comfortable clothes, and raised an eyebrow at him. “It’s just Frenchie”, you replied casually. “He’s just checking in, nothing to worry about”.

Ben's expression darkened, a trace of annoyance flashing in his eyes. "Since when do you talk to the team again?", he asked.

You rolled your eyes. "Just with Frenchie", you mumbled, trying to diffuse the tension. But Ben wasn't satisfied with that answer, his suspicion lingering in the air.

His eyes lingered on your belly, a frown forming on his face. He wasn't happy, and you could sense his unease.

"You're jealous, aren't you?", you teased, a small grin playing on your lips as you observed his reaction.

Ben scoffed, trying to downplay his feelings. "Don't be fucking ridiculous", he replied, his tone defensive. "I just… don't trust them, that's all".

You mumbled a noncommittal "huh", looking at him, which made him raise an eyebrow in response.

"What the fuck are you thinking?", Ben asked, his tone a mixture of irritation and curiosity.

You grinned and shook your head. "Oh, nothing", you mumbled, but as you tried to step out of the kitchen, Ben grabbed your wrist, his gaze intense as he looked down at you.

"What's going on in that head of yours, huh?", he asked again.

You chuckled, feeling a rush of affection for Ben despite his overbearing attitude. "Just thinking about how lucky I am to have you", you replied.

Ben was taken aback by your unexpected declaration, his grip on your wrist loosening slightly. But before he could respond, you leaned in to press a quick kiss to his lips. Surprised, Ben's initial hesitation melted away, and he quickly pulled you against his chest, returning the kiss with fervor. His hands found their way to your hips, holding you close as he deepened the kiss, his passion evident in every movement.

As Ben carefully lifted you onto the kitchen counter, stepping between your legs, he gazed at you intently. His hands rested on your waist, his touch gentle yet possessive, as you bit your lip, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. The intensity of his stare sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn't help but blush even more under his scrutiny.

His gaze fell on the necklace he had gifted you. "Thank you for coming after me", he murmured, his voice filled with sincerity. "For literally saving me". He meant more than just the physical act of freeing him a few weeks ago; it was a testament to your unwavering loyalty and love that had brought him back from the brink.

You bit your lip again, feeling the weight of his sincerity. His eyes held a depth of emotion that stirred something within you. That was the moment you knew, that despite your reservations and uncertainties, you couldn't deny him the chance to be a father.

"I'm going to keep the baby", you whispered softly, your voice filled with determination and a hint of vulnerability.

Ben's eyes shot up, a mixture of surprise and joy dancing within them. His lips twitched into a grin as he processed your words, a surge of happiness washing over him.

"Really?", he exclaimed. "I mean… of course you fucking are", he added hastily.

You shook your head in disbelief, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you looked up at Ben.

Ben's grin widened. "Guess that means I'm going to be a fucking father then", he exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine excitement. "A real one".

Ben heaved you up onto his hips, a smirk playing on his lips as he carried you into the bedroom.

"That screams for some extra orgasms for you", he grumbled playfully, his tone teasing as he laid you down on the bed.

You leaned back, giggling slightly as you squeezed your legs together, teasing Ben. He tried to push them apart, his hands roaming over your thighs.

"I can't, I'm on my period", you joked.

Ben raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh, come on now", he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. "That's not how it works".

"Well, who knows", you grinned mischievously. "Maybe our baby comes with some special perks".

"I highly doubt it", he replied. "But I guess we'll find out soon enough".

With that Ben pulled down your sweatpants and panties with a bit of roughness, parting your legs shamelessly. Your breath hitched at the sudden intensity of his actions.

"You're just full of jokes today, aren't you?", Ben grumbled.

You grinned down at him. "Always gotta keep you on your toes", you replied, but before you could say anything more, Ben silenced you by sucking harshly on your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body.

You moaned loudly, your back arching as Ben's mouth and tongue worked their magic on your pussy. "Fuck, Ben", you cursed, your fingers tangling in his hair as he continued his relentless assault. The intensity of his ministrations sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, making it difficult to form coherent thoughts as you surrendered to the ecstasy.

"Ben, ease up", you gasped, pulling on his hair gently. The sensation was overwhelming, and you needed him to dial it back just a notch. Despite the pleasure coursing through you, you were starting to shake from the intensity of his ministrations.

Ben chuckled against your sensitive skin, his eyes locking with yours as he murmured, "Are you going to stop teasing me and behave like a good girl now?". His tone was playful, but there was a hint of authority in his voice, challenging you to comply.

You blushed hard under his gaze. "Maybe", you teased, unable to resist pushing his buttons a little more.

Ben's lips curved into a smirk as he bit your thigh lightly. "Careful now", he warned. "You wouldn't want to test me, would you?", his voice low and husky as he trailed kisses back up your thigh, his lips tantalizingly close to your heated core.

As he inched over your clit, you shook your head, trying to push your hips upward so you could feel his lips again, but his grip on your hipbones held you in place.

"Patience, sweetheart", he murmured, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. "I'll get there when I'm good and ready".

With a mischievous grin, Ben dipped his head down, teasingly grazing his lips over your sensitive skin. He reveled in the way you squirmed beneath him, your breath hitching with each tantalizing touch. "But if you keep squirming like that", he whispered huskily, "I might have to punish you for being so impatient".

You whimpered, feeling the delicious torture of his teasing. "Ben, you said you wanted to reward me", you moaned, your voice pleading. "But all you're doing is teasing the hell out of me".

Ben chuckled lowly, the sound vibrating against your sensitive skin. "I am rewarding you", he murmured huskily. "Just not in the way you expected". With that, he dipped his head back down, his tongue tracing teasing circles around your throbbing clit, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through your body.

As Ben's skilled tongue danced across your throbbing clit, a wave of pleasure surged through your body, making your breath hitch. His movements were deliberate, teasing, as if he relished every moment of your ecstasy. His lips pressed softly against your skin.

You grasped the sheets tightly, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of his touch. Each flick of his tongue sent electric pulses of pleasure racing through you. Your hips instinctively arched towards him.

Ben's grip on your hipbones tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pressed your pussy harder against his lips, his tongue delving deeper, seeking out every ounce of pleasure within you.

Amidst the overwhelming sensations, you found yourself murmuring, "The doctor said it's unusual to feel this nauseous within the first few weeks of a pregnancy". Your words were punctuated by soft moans, escaping your lips involuntarily as pleasure coursed through your body.

Ben's movements faltered for a moment, his eyes flickering with surprise and something deeper, something you couldn't quite decipher amidst the haze of pleasure. But then, he resumed his ministrations with even more fervor, as if determined to drown out any thoughts other than the ecstasy you shared in that moment.

"I don't care about the fucking doctor", he growled against your skin, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "All I care about is you, right here, right fucking now".

You cried out loud as Ben applied more pressure, his determination evident in every movement as he sought to immerse you fully in the intoxicating whirlwind of pleasure. But amidst the ecstasy, a nagging worry crept into your mind.

"Maybe it's not a good sign that it starts so early", you moaned.

Ben paused for a moment, his eyes locking with yours as he pulled back slightly, a furrow forming on his brow. "I'm trying to give you something here", he grumbled, frustration evident in his tone as he nodded towards your wet pussy just inches in front of him.

The weight of his words hung in the air, mingling with the heady scent of desire as you gazed into his eyes, searching for reassurance amidst the storm of emotions swirling within you. But then, with a determined glint in his eyes, Ben leaned forward once more, his lips capturing yours in a fierce kiss that tried to silenced any doubts, any fears.

"Just… relax, sweetheart", Ben murmured against your lips, his words a mixture of frustration and reassurance. "We'll talk about this later".

As he pushed himself down again, his movements more urgent, the tension between you palpable. But after a while, your inability to concentrate on his work scratched at his ego, gnawing at the edges of his patience until finally, a string of curses escaped his lips.

"Fucking hell", he growled, the words laced with frustration as he fought to rein in his simmering anger. "Why won't you just… come?".

Your heart sank as you sensed the frustration and self-doubt creeping into Ben's voice. The realization that he believed it was his fault only deepened your own sense of guilt.

"I'm sorry", you whispered, the words barely audible amidst the rush of emotions swirling within you. "I'm trying, Ben, I really am".

Ben struggled to make sense of the situation.

"I know you are", he grumbled, his voice softening slightly as he reached out to stroke your cheek, his touch gentle despite the frustration that simmered just beneath the surface. "But maybe my dick would get your full attention, hmm?". Yet beneath the harshness of his tone, a flicker of concern still lingered.

As Ben stood up, shedding his supe suit with practiced ease, your eyes followed his every movement, tracing the contours of his body. Despite the frustration that had simmered between you moments before, the sight of him standing before you, already hard and ready, stirred something within you.

For Ben, there was nothing better than tasting you, hearing you moan beneath his touch.

As he approached, you sat up, your movements fluid and graceful as you pulled off your shirt, leaving you completely naked before him. The air crackled with anticipation, the tension between you palpable as you met his gaze, your eyes locking in a silent promise of mutual desire and longing.

Ben closed the distance between you, his hands reaching out to cup your face as he claimed your lips in a fierce, possessive kiss.

With a firm but gentle push, Ben guided you back onto the bed, the mattress yielding beneath your weight as you settled into the soft embrace. Quickly, he shifted his position so that you straddled him, his hands finding purchase on your hips as he urged you to look at him.

"I need you to look at me, sweetheart", he murmured, his voice low and commanding. "Think about nothing but the feeling I'll give you. No more distractions".

You nodded.

As Ben lowered you slowly onto his dick, you felt your tightness stretching around him, a sensation that always elicited a quiet wince from you. Despite your body's familiarity with his size, the initial discomfort never fully subsided.

But tonight, as he filled you completely, the discomfort seemed to intensify, a sharp pang of pain shooting through you as you struggled to adjust to his size. Each inch of him felt like a stretch, a challenge to your body's limits, and though you tried to relax and surrender to the pleasure, the discomfort lingered like a stubborn shadow, refusing to be ignored.

"You okay?", Ben's voice broke through the haze of discomfort.

You nodded weakly, forcing a small smile as you tried to push aside the discomfort and focus on the pleasure that awaited you. But deep down, you knew that tonight would be different.

Your nails dug into Ben’s shoulder plates, seeking purchase as you sought to steady yourself against the waves of discomfort that threatened to overwhelm you. Beneath you, his hands remained firm on your hips.

With a sharp intake of breath, you sucked in your lip, trying to stifle the small gasp that escaped you as you slowly raised your hips up. The ache intensified as you lowered yourself back down, the discomfort blossoming into a sharp pain that made you wince audibly this time.

Ben’s frustration grew palpable, his jaw clenched tightly. He had always prided himself on his ability to please you, to bring you pleasure beyond measure, and yet tonight, it seemed that every effort only served to exacerbate your discomfort.

“I’m sorry”, you whispered, your voice trembling with a mixture of pain and guilt as you met his gaze.

Despite the frustration gnawing at his patience, Ben wasn't ready to give up just yet. He knew that you always struggled to take him, but tonight seemed to be on a whole new level. Yet, amidst the discomfort and the lingering doubts, he remained determined to find a solution, to ease your pain and bring you the pleasure you both craved.

"No need to apologize", he muttered softly, his voice a soothing balm against the turmoil in your mind as he reached for a bottle of lube from his bedside table. With practiced ease, he uncapped it, the familiar scent filling the air as he coated his fingers, his movements gentle and deliberate as he prepared to ease your discomfort.

With his free hand, Ben guided you up again, his touch surprisingly gentle as he positioned you just above him. But for him, gentleness was a relative term, and you could feel the underlying urgency in his movements, a silent plea for relief from the discomfort that had plagued you both.

With a soft gasp, you felt his coated finger glide over your clit, the slickness of the lube providing a welcome relief to the ache that had lingered within you. And as he pushed two fingers inside your pussy, a slow and deliberate rhythm, you couldn't help but relax into his touch.

As Ben's fingers worked their way inside you, his eyes were glued to the sight of how they pushed into your tightness, each movement deliberate and calculated. He could feel the tension in your body gradually giving way, the resistance softening as you began to relax under his touch.

"You're doing great, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice a soft whisper of encouragement as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of you. "Just relax and let me take care of you".

Even though Ben felt the urge to mutter something really inappropriate, urging you to just fucking take him, he knew that this wasn't the time. He understood that you needed him to be gentle and patient today, especially with your hormones going crazy and everything related to the pregnancy feeling overwhelming.

Suppressing his own frustrations, Ben focused on the task at hand, determined to provide you with the care and attention you needed in this moment. He kept his movements slow and steady, his touch gentle yet firm as he continued to work his fingers inside you, seeking to ease the discomfort and bring you the pleasure you deserved.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?", he asked softly. "You think you're ready to take me?", he looked up at you.

With a shaky breath, you nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you met his gaze. "Yeah", you whispered, your voice filled with determination and longing. "I'm good".

"Alright", Ben muttered, his voice a low rumble of anticipation.

As you carefully guided Ben’s dick inside you, lowering yourself slowly onto him, a mixture of pleasure and relief washed over you both. Ben groaned deeply, his eyes falling shut for a few seconds as he relished the sensation of being enveloped by your warmth and tightness. A low, primal growl escaped his lips. His grip tightened uncontrollably, sending a shiver down your spine as you felt the intensity of his desire coursing through him.

Your breath hitched as his grip tightened, a mixture of pleasure and pain dancing on the edge of your senses. “Ben, be careful”, you murmured, your voice laced with a hint of urgency as you reached towards your belly, a silent reminder of the life growing within you.

His eyes snapped open, meeting yours.

Instantly, Ben loosened his grip, his hands falling down to rest gently on your thighs.

“I didn’t mean to…”.

Feeling his remorse, you took Ben’s hands in yours, guiding them back towards your hips with a reassuring squeeze. You knew how difficult it was for him to hold back, especially in moments of intense passion.

“It’s okay, Ben”, you whispered, your voice filled with understanding and love. “I trust you”.

You began to move a bit faster, eager to reciprocate the pleasure he always gave you, even though he was a lot to handle today. His dick stretched you beyond your limits.

With each movement, Ben's touch grew even gentler, his guidance subtle yet firm as he encouraged you to find your own rhythm. Together, you moved in perfect harmony.

But despite your efforts, you still struggled to find release. Frustration gnawed at the edges of your mind as you desperately tried to shift your angle, to find that elusive sweet spot that would bring you to climax. But no matter how hard you tried, your mind refused to shut off, the weight of your worries and uncertainties clinging to you like a heavy shroud.

"Fuck, look at me", Ben ordered, his voice a low growl of urgency as he grasped your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "I need you here with me, baby".

His words cut through the fog of your thoughts, grounding you in the present moment. With a shaky breath, you nodded, your eyes locking with his as you surrendered yourself to his command.

As you gazed into his eyes, the intensity of his desire mirrored your own, igniting a spark of passion that burned bright between you.

Ben cupped your small body with one of his big arms around your waist, pressing you gently against him. With his other hand, he grabbed your buttock, pressing you down onto his cock, eliciting a sharp cry from your lips.

"I want you so fucking much", he murmured.

His words sent shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you that burned hotter with each passing moment. As he held you close, the heat of his body enveloping you.

Ben pulled you closer, his touch and words finally grounding you in the here and now.

"You take me so damn well, baby", he muttered, his voice husky with need. "I love the way you feel around me, so tight and wet".

Each word sent a jolt of pleasure through you, heightening the intensity of your connection as you surrendered yourself to the raw passion that flowed between you. With each thrust, each whispered confession of desire, you felt yourself drawing closer to the edge of ecstasy.

Finally, you let go of your thoughts, allowing yourself to get lost in Ben´s beautiful green eyes. His dick throbbed inside you, and you began to clench around him, your body responding instinctively to the pleasure coursing through you.

Ben's gaze never wavered from yours as he felt you tighten around him, a low groan escaping his lips. "That's it, baby", he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Feel how good you make me, how much I need you".

With each clench of your muscles, you felt the tension building within you, the pleasure reaching its peak as you surrendered yourself completely to the ecstasy of the moment.

As the climax washed over you both, you felt a sense of euphoria enveloping you, a shared release of tension and desire that left you both breathless and spent. Ben held you close, his arms wrapped around you protectively as you basked in the afterglow of your shared intimacy.

As you fell against his chest, your breath heavy and your body weak against his hard chest, Ben chuckled softly and planted a kiss on the top of your head.

“Fuck Sweetheart”, he muttered with a mix of amusement and frustration. “Your orgasm was playing hard to get tonight, huh?”.

You couldn’t help but laugh weakly at his comment, feeling a sense of relief and lightheartedness wash over you despite the lingering intensity of the moment. “Sorry about that”, you replied, your voice still tinged with the remnants of pleasure.

Still, Ben couldn’t shake the feeling of frustration and inadequacy gnawing at the edges of his mind. He may have overplayed it with his lighthearted comment, but deep down, his ego was bruised.

He prided himself on his ability to please you effortlessly, to have you ready within seconds and coming within minutes. But tonight, he felt like he had fallen short of that mark, struggling to bring you the pleasure you deserved. And for him, as the man, it was one of the worst feelings imaginable.

Despite his attempts to brush it off with humor, the nagging sense of disappointment lingered. He knew you didn’t blame him, but still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had let you down.

As he held you close, his mind raced.

As you looked up at Ben, you could see the turmoil in his eyes as he wrestled with his thoughts. Cupping his face in your hands, you gifted him a small smile, hoping to ease the weight of his worries, but he didn't respond.

"Babe", you murmured softly, your voice filled with love and reassurance. "You know it was on me, right? It's just… my mind and emotions that went crazy tonight. You were as damn awesome as always".

Your words hung in the air.

Ben shook his head slightly, his gaze drifting down to your belly as if seeking solace in the promise of new life. With a sigh, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer as if to shield you both from the doubts and insecurities that lingered in the air.

As he held you, his touch gentle and reassuring, you felt a sense of calm wash over you. You nestled against his naked chest, inhaling the familiar scent of his skin. His heartbeat echoed beneath your ear, a steady rhythm that lulled you into a state of tranquility.

As Ben felt your heartbeat slow down and heard the soft rhythm of your breathing, he knew that you had drifted off into a peaceful sleep on top of him. With utmost care, he gently lowered you down onto the bed, ensuring you were comfortable and tucked in beneath the blanket.

As Ben gently brushed a stray lock of hair from your face, he couldn't help but feel a sense of peace wash over him at the sight of you, sleeping so peacefully and undisturbed. With a soft sigh, he leaned down to press a tender kiss to your forehead before quietly slipping out of the room.

Entering the kitchen, he wasted no time in indulging in a line to take the edge off, the familiar rush momentarily distracting him from the lingering echoes of frustration and doubt. But it was his favorite whiskey that truly called to him.

With the bottle in hand, Ben made his way to the living room. Settling onto the couch, he allowed himself to sink into the soft cushions.

As he took a sip of the whiskey, its smooth warmth spreading through him.

As the evening rolled on and Ben was engrossed in a movie, he suddenly heard the unmistakable sound of vomiting from the bedroom. Pausing the movie, he quickly made his way towards you, throwing on some sweatpants along the way.

His gaze softened at the sight of you, hunched over the toilet, your face pale and drawn with discomfort. Without a word, he moved to your side, offering a comforting hand on your back as you continued to retch.

"You okay?", Ben asked softly, concern evident in his voice as he rubbed your back gently.

You groaned in response, leaning back slightly with tears in your eyes. "Ugh, this is gross", you muttered, hoping that the nausea would pass soon.

As you finished vomiting and stood up, feeling a bit dizzy, Ben moved to help you steady yourself. His arm wrapped around your waist, offering support as you made your way to the sink to brush your teeth.

While you were preoccupied with rinsing your mouth, Ben retrieved your silk robe from the bedroom. With a tender touch, he draped it around your shoulders, the smooth fabric gliding over your skin as he fastened it loosely around your body. "There, all better now, princess", he said with a smirk, kissing your shoulders. "Can't have my girl feeling under the weather, now can we?", his tone teasing but affectionate.

Rolling your eyes at his comment, you spit out the toothpaste and pulled the robe on correctly, adjusting it around your body. As you brushed over your eyes with your hand, trying to shake off the dizziness, you couldn't help but mumble under your breath.

"I feel like shit", you grumbled, the discomfort evident in your voice as you leaned against the sink for support.

Ben chuckled softly, his teasing tone belying the genuine concern in his eyes as he steadied you with a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

"Aw, come on, you're tough as nails", he teased, trying to lighten the mood. "A little nausea never hurt anyone, right? Besides, you'll be back to your badass self in no time".

As he spoke, he continued to support you, his touch gentle yet firm as he guided you back towards the bedroom.

As Ben guided you back towards the bedroom, his heart aching to see you in discomfort, he couldn't help but overplay his worry with playful comments. Deep down, he hated to see you like this, but he struggled to express it in a more straightforward manner.

You mumbled softly, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. "I shouldn't be puking this often, not this early in the pregnancy", you lamented, your voice tinged with frustration and concern.

Ben's expression softened at your words, the playful facade slipping away as he realized the gravity of the situation. "We'll figure it out", he murmured.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

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Part 29

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Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch@mimaria420@kaz11283@uncle-eggy@jackles010378@vxnilla-hxrddrugs @meowmeowyoongles@sarahgracej @zemosdarling228 @leila22rogers @mostlymarvelgirl@emily-winchester @blacknoirr @onlyangel-444@seasonofthenerd@staple-your-mouth@artemys-ackles@selfdestructionandrhum@mystic-mara @kat-nee

[alottiegoingon]

our song

jackie taylor x gn!reader

summary: where the famous singer jackie taylor writes an entire album for actor!reader after three years apart.

warnings: cursing, angst but happy and sweet ending, not proofread.

you were the luckiest person in the entire world. the great jackie taylor, with her magnetic personality and soaring career as a talented singer, had chosen you to be her partner. with millions of fans captivated by her melodic voice and genuine charm, she wasn't just a star but a phenomenon. her albums topped charts, her concerts sold out within minutes, and her presence lit up every room she entered.

as for you, your career as an actor was blossoming. you had worked tirelessly to earn your place in hollywood, landing roles that showcased your versatility and dedication. small and perhaps insignificant ones at first but slowly turning into something that captivated the public. together, you and jackie were a power couple, admired for your talent, grace, and the undeniable chemistry that sparked between you both on and off-media.

♫

jackie reclined on the sun-dappled blanket, her fingers interlaced with yours as the two of you lay in the park, soaking up the warmth of the late afternoon sun. the serene setting offered a rare moment of peace amidst your otherwise chaotic lives, practically a miracle.

“it's still the same as when we first came here,” jackie pointed, eyes sparkling with the memory. “you tried to impress me by catching that frisbee and ended up tripping over your own feet.”

you chuckled, grip tightening around hand. “hey, i still maintain that the ground was uneven. besides, you were impressed. i saw you trying not to laugh.”

she rolled her eyes playfully. “i was laughing with you, not at you. there’s a difference.”

“of course there is,” you teased. “wouldn’t it be wonderful if every day could be as peaceful as this?” murmuring, you gently lose your grip on jackie’s hand to play with her fingers, twirling the rings adorning her index finger.

she exhaled contentedly, leaning her head against your shoulder. “it would be perfect,” she agreed. “though, knowing us, we’d probably get bored. like that time when we decided to make pasta from scratch at 2 AM and almost destroyed the kitchen."

you laughed, the memory bringing a warm glow to your heart. “you ended up covered in flour, and we had to clean the whole apartment. but it was worth it, even if it tasted vile.”

jackie giggled, her eyes widening. “vile? it was insufferable,” she reminds you, marveling at your different perspective, probably because you were too happy being with her to care about the food.

before you could respond, both your phones buzzed simultaneously, pulling you back to reality. you exchanged a resigned glance and picked up your phone to find a message urgently demanding your presence on your manager's office.

fuck. nothing good could ever come off this.

in the sleek, modern office, the atmosphere grew heavy. yours and jackie’s manager gave you both uneasy glances before addressing you.

“thank you for coming on such short notice,” he began, his tone serious. it couldn't be good. “as you know, the fan frenzy is getting out of control.”

that was his polite way of demanding your relationship to end.

jackie raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a wry smile. “so, let me get this straight. you think breaking up will magically stop our fans from being obsessed? what’s next, telling the sun not to shine?”

your manager sighed, running a hand through his hair. “it's about your careers. you haven't released new music in months," he faces jackie for a moment. "and your latest movie faced a lot of unnecessary backlash because of the rumors. this isn’t sustainable.”

jackie’s expression hardened. “so we should just give up on each other because it’s convenient for you? that’s absurd.”

"we’re not saying it’s forever, jackie. just until things calm down. you both have worked so hard to get where you are. don’t let this jeopardize everything.”

jackie took a minute to absorb the suggestion, and your lips parted in shock as she somehow seemed convinced by all that nonsense.

you looked at her, your heart breaking at the thought of losing her. half of you were furious, holding yourself to now jump on the mid aged man in front of you and ripping his fancy hair our for suggesting such a cruel idea. the other half... “jackie, you can't actually be considering this.”

she took a deep sharp breath. “i don’t want to lose you, but I also don’t want to hold you back," you wanted to tell her that she could never hold you back, but you had a immense lump stuck on your throat. "maybe... maybe they’re right. maybe we need to focus on our careers for now.”

“jackie,” you whispered, reaching for her hand. “this isn’t what i want. i don’t care about the fans or the media. i care about you.”

she squeezed your hand back tightly, her voice trembling. “i know. but maybe... maybe this is the only way. for now.”

yet, the 'for now' turned into three years.

♫

three years had passed since the decision was made for you and jackie to go on separate ways. for jackie, those three years became a period of creative hibernation, or at least that's what she told the media. once a prolific artist whose songs resonated deeply with millions, she withdrew from the limelight entirely.

meanwhile, your life had taken a different trajectory. the breakup had fueled a fire within you, driving you to immerse yourself in your work. acting roles came flooding in, and with each new character you portrayed, you climbed higher in the movie industry ranks. yet, no amount of success could fill the void jackie had left behind. you buried yourself in scripts, hiding from the emotions that threatened to break through.

your latest project had brought you to a new movie set, where you worked tirelessly to bring your character to life. the film set became your sanctuary and your proving ground, especially after your ex-girlfriend had came back to the public's eye, releasing a new album out of nowhere.

oh, that's why you had been receiving so many calls and texts and spending a lot of time ignoring every single one. it didn't surprise you that her name was all over the internet, doubling your efforts to avoid her name like the plague. you didn't give a fuck about jackie taylor.

or you liked to think you didn't.

it was during a rare moment of downtime that you heard it—her voice, lilting and haunting, spilling from the trailer of your co-star.

you stumbled upon the trailer nestled within the labyrinthine studio lot. melodies drifted through the half-open door, the familiar voice stirring memories you had tried so hard to forget. curious, you approached quietly, recognizing it instantly.

as you leaned against the doorframe, the lyrics unfolded like a poignant reflection of your shared history. you remained silent, unseen, grappling with the emotions stirred by each familiar verse.

as the song ended, your first instinct was to rush back to your own trailer, tears welling up in your eyes. you should have been studying your lines and preparing for filming, but instead, you found yourself hurrying to listen to your ex-girlfriend's new album after years apart.

with trembling hands, you opened your laptop, fingers shaking as you searched for jackie’s latest album. the cursor hesitated over the play button, torn between reluctance and a deep yearning to hear her voice.

you pressed play and jackie's haunting melodies filled the small space of your trailer. the first song washed over you like a wave, stirring memories long buried in your heart. each verse unveiled a tapestry of emotions—love, longing, regret—all laid bare in her soulful voice.

after listening to the entire album, you became a sobbing wreck by the time the final track ended. all that remained certain was the need to see her, torn between sadness for jackie, pitying her regretful confession delivered so cowardly, and fury at how she chose to reveal it all.

without a second thought, you booked a flight to the city where jackie lived, not caring about the scenes they were supposed to film later that day, leaving it all behind. you had better plans.

♫

jackie had just finished a late-night interview, her thoughts drifting back to you as they often did. the doorbell rang, startling her from her reverie. she wasn't expecting anyone to show up, and definitely not you.

opening the door, she was met with your familiar face, just like she remembered. her heart leaped into her throat, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

"really, an album? you couldn't have called me to tell me this is how you felt after three years?" your voice trembled with a mixture of anger and longing, finally beating the silence.

"it's nice to see you too. you look nice."

"really? i miss you every day since that day and you decided to put your feelings in a stupid album instead of talking to me?"

jackie's attempt to brush the awkwardness away was useless when you could perfectly see the fear in her face. "i didn't know how to reach out to you."

"you didn't know how to reach out to me?" you repeated, your voice rising. "we've been through so much together, and you thought an album was the best way to communicate?"

her expression hardened, hands clenched into fists. "do you think it was easy for me? do you think I wanted to put everything into songs?"

"yes, i do!" you stepped inside, forcing jackie to walk backwards, slamming the door behind you. "because that's exactly what you did! you hid behind your music instead of talking to me like a fucking adult."

"don't you dare judge me!" jackie shouted back, her arms gesturing in agitation. "you think it was easy watching you move on with your life, seeing you in the headlines?"

"move on?" you laughed bitterly. "you call that moving on? i was drowning myself in work because I couldn't deal with losing you. every script, every role, it was just a way to distract myself from the pain that you created when you agreed to that entire breakup shit."

jackie took a step back, her eyes eventually softening, but she kept quiet. she had a great way with words when writing songs, but not in situations like this. "i know," she whispered. "i didn't want to hold you back."

her words hung in the air, the weight of their implications sinking into both of you. you took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart.

"holding me back?" you repeated, your voice tinged with disbelief. "jackie, you were never holding me back. you were the one who kept me grounded."

"i thought i was doing the right thing. everyone kept saying it was the best for our careers, for our future."

"everyone but us," you said, your voice sounded like a broken whisper.

she looked at the living room, then met you again, her expression filled with regret. "can we just sit and talk?"

the last thing you wanted now was to sit and listen to her excuses. still, you had come all the way down there. you were just as scared as she was.

jackie motioned towards the couch, and you hesitated for a moment before following her lead. the place was dominated by an unsettling silence, the air heavy with unresolved emotions.

as you both settled into the cushions, she took a deep breath, her fingers nervously twisting a strand of her hair. "i know i fucked up. i thought i was doing the right thing."

you glance at her, she was having a hard time looking at you.

"i was scared," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "scared that if i fought for us and it didn't work out, it would destroy me. i took the easy way out, and i've regretted it every day since."

"yeah, you did take the easy way out," you said, a hint of bitterness creeping into your voice but soon vanishing. "but i guess i wasn't much better. i threw myself into the first plane and will probably get fired just to tell my ex-girlfriend how pissed i was."

she gave a small, insecure smile. "that's really stupid."

"tell me about it," you mumble, mirroring her sad smile.

jackie laughed softly, a genuine sound that seemed to lighten the room. "we're both a bit stupid, aren't we?"

you couldn't help but chuckle too, the tension in your chest easing slightly. "oh, yes. a lot," you nod, the sad grin shifting to a more comfortable one. "at least we were stupid together."

the corners of her eyes crinkled in that familiar way that always made your heart flutter. "stupid together," she agreed.

for a moment, the two of you just sat there, smirking at each other, a shared understanding passing between you. the silence was no longer heavy, but comfortable, like slipping into an old, worn-in pair of shoes.

jackie shifted closer, her hand reaching out hesitantly to rest on yours. "so, where do we go from here?"

you take a look down at her hand on yours, feeling the warmth of her touch. "well, i guess we start by being honest with each other. no more hiding, no more running away."

she nodded, her eyes earnest. "right. i can do that."

you squeezed her hand gently. "and maybe we can take it slow, figure things out as we go."

jackie grinned, a playful glint in her eyes. "does that mean no grand gestures like flying across the country without telling anyone?"

you laughed, feeling lighter than you had in years. "no promises. i might still have a few dramatic moves up my sleeve."

the two of you talked for hours, sharing stories, laughing about old memories, and making plans for the future. it felt like a weight had been lifted, and for the first time in years, you felt hopeful.

a loud snort falls from your lips when you hear a loud and sudden growl coming from jackie's stomach and she mirrors you, cheeks instantly turning pink.

"do you wanna cook something?" you ask, a specific memory showing up on your mind. "maybe pasta."

"absolutely not. we promised to never try that again," she added, grinning.

"maybe we should break that promise," you glance at the kitchen, a mischievous twinkle in your eye. "try again and see if we can actually make something edible this time."

she raised an eyebrow, amused. "are you suggesting a rematch?"

your smile widened. "absolutely. I think we can do better this time. and if not, well, there's always pizza."

"alright, you're on. but no cheating."

"deal," you agreed, holding out your pinky.

jackie linked your pinky with hers, sealing the promise.

♫

the kitchen soon filled with the aroma of garlic and tomatoes, and before long, you were sitting at the table, enjoying a surprisingly delicious meal. each bite felt like a victory, not just over the failed attempts before that, but over the misunderstandings and pain that were now behind you.

it was past midnight when you found yourselves nestled in bed, illuminated by the gentle glow of the bedside lamp. your fingertips traced idle patterns on jackie's stomach, the hushed tones of your conversation blending with the city distant and muffled noises. with exhaustion catching up, you pulled her nearer, jackie's head resting against your chest as you wrapped your arms around her, finding solace in the shared peace of falling asleep together.