#august challenge

‘You tryna kill me, sweetheart?’ he murmured as your pussy clenched around him again.

‘Dean,’ you whimpered.

‘Quiet baby. Y’know if Sammy hears you, I’m a dead man,’ he whispered, sucking on a spot on your neck, eliciting another moan. You could feel it coming, that rolling peak only amped up as Dean reached down to work his fingers against you.

‘Oh god, Dean right there,’ you whimpered, your forehead pressing into his shoulder to muffle the sound. You came before you could stop it, clenching around him in a way that pulled a deep grunt from him, his hips moving at pace until he spilled out inside you. His breath was ragged in your ear, his thrusts shallow and fucking the spenditure back into you, keeping you full.

He was soft then, grazing his lips along your jaw until they met your own, his eyes glinting as he looked at you.

You went to speak but you stopped when Sam stirred. You froze, Dean still buried in you, as Sam turned over in his bed with a grunt and a groan before he settled back down, his breathing settling into something slow and steady. Once he did you let out a breath making Dean chuckle softly at the panic on your face before he pressed a quick kiss to your lips and murmured, ‘then again if I had to pick a way to go.’

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Sam

‘Fuck,’ Sam grunted, hips bucking up, spearing you deeper as you ground down on him.

‘Sssh,’ you breathed, pressing your hands down on his chest. Your eyes flicked to Dean, face down, cheek pressed into the mattress as drool pooled onto the sheet. Dead to the world but not for long if you kept at it. You couldn’t stop though. It had only taken Sam pressed behind you, cock pressed against your ass, all needy and neglected because he was a gentleman who wouldn’t contemplate fucking you with his brother in the next bed. His eyes had widened when you’d rolled him over, mouth attacking him as you climbed on top.

But he hadn’t protested as you’d sunk onto him, taking his full length and just sitting on it, eyes fixed on Dean before you dared move.

As you rolled your hips again Sam whimpered and you leant forward pressing hand to his mouth, stilling your hips.

‘If you don’t be quiet, I’ll stop,’ you warned. Sam whined but you just gave a tentative raise of your eyebrow, ‘can you be good for me?’

Sam looked at you with his big wide eyes and nodded. You smiled and moved your hand, moving your hips until you clenched around him, sending him over the edge until he was decorating your insides with a groan that you rushed to swallow.

Thankfully Dean didn’t disturb or at least you thought not until you were mid-way through your bowl of cereal the next morning. Sam’s coughing and spluttering around his spoon his brother commented on the girl moans he’d heard a little harder to swallow.

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supernatural/dean/sam tags

The flags of Cordonia—the golden lion and the white sail—snapped crisply in the wind on either side of the main thoroughfare leading from the palace to the city center, a perfect match to the small, colorful flags bearing the royal crest waved by the citizens. Tens of thousands of people had gathered along the streets, their faces alight with a genuine, undisguised joy and reverence. The air flowed with the festive clamor of a holiday; the laughter of children, the calls of vendors, and the cheers for the King and Queen that erupted intermittently from the crowd all wove together into a hymn for the era.

Today was the official inauguration of the Queen Eleanor National Library and Arts Center.

The magnificent building was, in itself, an emblem of Cordonia's "Golden Age." Its main structure was fashioned from traditional white marble, preserving the elegance and dignity of the ancient kingdom, while its great dome and front façade were constructed with the latest technology from Monterisso, made from a single, seamless pane of reinforced glass. Sunlight poured through unhindered, illuminating the interior as brightly as day. Tradition and modernity, history and future, achieved a perfect harmony in its design, just as in the nation itself.

At ten o'clock sharp, the royal honor guard appeared at the end of the grand avenue, and the crowd's roar reached its zenith. King Liam and Queen Aurora, riding in an open-topped royal convertible, proceeded slowly toward the plaza.

Liam was dressed in a deep blue royal uniform, its impeccable tailoring accentuating his tall and straight figure. A golden sash was draped diagonally across his chest, where various medals representing the highest honors of the crown were neatly pinned, glittering under the sun along with the ornate, tasseled epaulets on his shoulders. He wore no crown, his brilliant blond hair stirring in the breeze, making him appear at once majestic and possessed of a trustworthy approachability.

Seated beside him, Aurora had chosen a stunning floor-length gown. The dress was a fiery gradient, softening from a gentle orange-red at the shoulders to a burning crimson at the hem. With the finest golden threads, a phoenix in mid-flight—the ancient totem of her home duchy, Valtoria—was subtly and realistically embroidered onto the fabric. The ensemble perfectly merged her nobility as Queen with the pride she took in her roots, making her radiant. Her chestnut hair was coiled into an elegant bun, her ears adorned with small diamond earrings that refracted a brilliant light under the sun. Her smile was warm and infectious, and when she waved to the crowd, she always received a response more enthusiastic than any jewel could elicit.

They were not merely the rulers of this nation; they were a real and beautiful fairytale in the hearts of the people. A diligent king who loved his people, and a kind and intelligent commoner queen from a foreign land. Their love story had long become a celebrated tale, and under their joint rule, Cordonia was experiencing unprecedented prosperity and openness. The old, stubborn noble factions had been thoroughly reshuffled after the turmoil of several years past, and a new, more vibrant class was on the rise. Abroad, Cordonia actively established friendly trade relations with its neighbors; at home, it vigorously developed education and culture. The nation was affluent, the people content—the truest footnote to a "Golden Age."

The convertible came to a smooth stop in the plaza before the arts center. Liam disembarked first, then turned gracefully, extending a hand to Aurora inside the car. She placed her hand in his palm and, with his support, stepped out elegantly. This small, loving gesture once again drew benevolent cheers and applause from the onlookers.

Liam took Aurora’s hand and walked onto the temporary dais. He scanned the thousands of faces in the square, faces filled with hope and trust, and a great, weighty sense of responsibility washed over him. He cleared his throat, and his resonant, clear voice carried across the entire plaza through the microphone.

"My dear people of Cordonia," he began, and the square fell silent. "Today, we gather here not just to celebrate the completion of a building, but to witness the realization of a dream."

He paused, his gaze turning to the magnificent glass dome beside him.

"This dream began with my mother, the late Queen Eleanor. She believed that knowledge is a bridge for communication, and art is a balm for the soul. It was her lifelong wish to build a great library for Cordonia, so that every child, regardless of birth, would have the chance to know the world and explore the unknown through books. She hoped that Cordonia's culture, like our trade, would open its arms to the world—to embrace, to exchange, to prosper together."

A subtle, deep longing for his mother laced Liam's voice. Aurora could feel his hand tighten slightly around hers, and she squeezed back with equal force, lending him her silent support.

"Today, we have finally fulfilled her wish. But this building does not belong only to the past; it belongs, more importantly, to the future." Liam's gaze returned to the people, now incredibly firm. "It belongs to every one of you. It will be an ocean of wisdom for our young students, a sanctuary of inspiration for our artists, and the greatest testament to Cordonia's openness, peace, and creativity to the world!"

Thunderous applause erupted from the square. Liam raised a hand to signal for quiet, and continued:

"I know well that I could not have accomplished such a grand undertaking alone. I can stand here today because I have you—my most loyal and hardworking people. And more so, because I have her."

He turned, gazing lovingly at Aurora, his blue eyes full of devotion. "My Queen, Aurora. With her wisdom, her kindness, and her precious empathy born from the people, she constantly reminds me that the core of kingship is not to rule, but to serve. She has made me a better man, and she has made this nation a better place. Therefore, this building belongs to her as well."

Aurora's eyes moistened slightly as she returned his loving smile. The crowd cheered again, this time, shouting their Queen's name.

After the ceremony, Liam and Aurora did not leave immediately. They stepped down from the dais and walked with smiles into the secure area cordoned off by guards, interacting closely with the people.

Liam was the first to notice a veteran in a wheelchair, a medal for valor from the last border conflict pinned to his chest. "Sergeant Marcus," Liam said, walking directly to him and offering his hand, his voice filled with sincere respect. "It is good to see you here. Are you settling into your new post?"

The man, who had lost a leg in the war, flushed with emotion. He gripped the king's hand firmly and straightened his back. "Your Majesty! It is my honor! To serve my country, whether on the battlefield or in this temple of knowledge, is the greatest honor of my life. To be here, organizing the books that carry our nation's history… my heart has never known such peace."

"Your service is the pride of Cordonia, Mr. Marcus," Aurora added gently, stepping to her husband's side. "We are grateful that you are willing to continue serving the people. I hope this work brings you peace and joy."

"Thank you, Your Majesty. With you and the King, Cordonia's future is bright." Tears welled in the veteran's eyes.

Next, their attention was drawn to a young girl nervously clutching the fabric of her skirt. She was the first recipient of the newly established "Queen Eleanor Scholarship."

Aurora smiled and spoke first, her voice always having a calming effect. "Maria, isn't it? I read your application essay. Your insights on blending Cordonia's classical architecture with modern design were quite unique and very impressive."

The girl’s face turned scarlet, and she stammered, "Your Majesty… I… I can hardly believe it. Thank you, Your Majesty, Your Highness. I… I swear, I will study hard and bring the best knowledge in the world back to help… to help build a more beautiful Cordonia!"

"We have no doubt you will, Maria," Liam interjected, his smile full of encouragement. "Your success is Cordonia's success. Go and make us proud. And remember, when you return, the doors of this library will always be open to you."

On the other side of the crowd, a young mother excitedly held up her daughter of about five, a beautiful crown of daisies and baby's breath on her head. "Your Majesty! Look, Sofia, it's the Queen!"

Aurora's gaze was immediately captured, and she walked over with a smile. "Hello, Sofia. Your flower crown is so pretty. Did you make it yourself?"

The little girl hid shyly in her mother's arms, whispering proudly, "…It's for you, Your Majesty!"

"Oh?" A flicker of surprised delight crossed Aurora's face. "Thank you. This is the most beautiful gift I have received today." As she spoke, she naturally took the child from her mother's arms, placed a kiss on her chubby cheek, and then carefully handed her back.

All of this was faithfully recorded by the media's cameras. The King and Queen, beloved by their people; Cordonia, prosperous and thriving. The scene was a perfect illustration of the definition of a "Golden Age."

------

Night fell, and the clamor of the day slowly faded. A deep quiet settled over the private chambers of the royal palace.

Aurora helped Liam out of the uniform that symbolized both glory and constraint, and he changed into a soft, comfortable cashmere sweater. She, too, had shed her long gown for a simple silk robe. The faint scent of lavender, prepared by the palace staff to aid their relaxation, filled the air.

"Has Charlotte been asleep?" Liam asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. His voice carried a trace of fatigue, but far more satisfaction.

"Like a little angel," Aurora said with a smile, coming to sit beside him. "Though she insisted on sleeping with that little sword Olivia gave her. She says she wants to dream of becoming as brave as Queen Kenna."

Liam let out a low chuckle at the thought. "That's Olivia. Her gifts are always so… profound." He took Aurora's hand, caressing it gently. "You worked hard today."

"It was nothing," Aurora replied, leaning her head on his shoulder. "To see your mother's wish fulfilled, to see the people so happy… I was truly proud of you. But… today must have brought back many memories of Queen Eleanor for you, didn't it?"

Liam was silent for a moment, then nodded. He stood and walked to the terrace window, gazing out at the moonlit garden.

"Yes," he said, his voice a little distant. "I can almost remember when I was a child, she loved taking me to the library. She used to say that every book held a different world. She would hold me and, in her gentle voice, read me the old legends of knights and dragons."

A bittersweet smile touched his lips. "She always said she hoped I would become a king who protected his kingdom with wisdom, not force. That Cordonia could be a bridge, not a fortress. I have been trying… trying to live up to her vision. But I don't know if she would be pleased with me, if she could see today."

Aurora came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her cheek against his broad back. "She would be, Liam. She would be immensely proud of you. You haven't just protected this country; you have made it better, more open, more hopeful. You have given the people prosperity and the children a future. You are the ideal king she always envisioned."

Liam turned, pulling his wife into a tight embrace. "Thank you, Aurora. Thank you for always being by my side."

They spoke of their children's future. As the first in line to the throne, Charlotte's life seemed already set in stone.

"I just want her to have a happy childhood, to be as free as possible," Aurora said softly. "We cannot choose her responsibilities for her, but we can at least pave a path for her that is less lonely."

"Yes," Liam sighed. "Beneath the crown lies endless duty. I hope she learns how to balance it all better than I have. And... I don't want her to always be so alone, Aurora." Liam's voice became even more gentle. "And Leo and me... although we had differences before, he has always been my brother. Knowing that he's there makes everything feel so different. I also hope Charlotte can have this support. A brother, or a sister... someone who can share this unique life with her."

Aurora's expression became extremely soft. She turned around and faced her husband, her amber eyes reflecting the moonlight. "I've been thinking about this all along, Liam. Seeing her playing happily with Leo, Katie's children today... I was thinking, could our home be a bit bigger? Could this palace be filled with more laughter?"

Liam's face finally broke into a genuine and warm smile, dispelling the worries that had previously clouded his brows. "More laughter might also mean more troubles," he quipped.

Aurora chuckled and kissed his lips. "As long as it's with you, I don't fear any more troubles. Maybe... we can start looking forward to it?"

Liam held her tighter in his arms. "I'm also looking forward to it, my Queen." His voice was filled with promises and hopes for the future.

------

The hour grew late, but Liam felt no desire for sleep. The day's memories of his mother were like a newly opened vintage wine, its lingering aftertaste keeping his mind from settling. Not wanting to disturb the already sleeping Aurora, he slipped on a robe and went alone to the study in the west wing of the palace.

This had once been his father's study; now, it was his. The air was thick with the scent of old parchment and leather. Massive, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves were neatly lined with the biographies and treatises of past monarchs.

Liam did not turn on a light, letting the moonlight stream through the large windows, casting dappled shadows on the floor. His gaze finally settled on the portrait hanging in the center of the wall.

It was his mother, Queen Eleanor, painted by the court artist when she was thirty. In the portrait, she wore a gown of silver-white, her golden hair swept up in an elegant coiffure. Her face held a gentle, slightly melancholic smile. She was beautiful, serene and saintly, like a goddess bathed in moonlight.

Liam walked to the portrait and stood before it, gazing. He reached out, his fingertips lightly tracing the cold, carved flowers of the frame.

Just then, a long-forgotten, hazy childhood memory flashed through his mind without warning.

He remembered: a dim afternoon when he was nine years old. For months before that, a joyful anticipation had filled the palace, for his mother was pregnant. He remembered how she would gently stroke her swelling belly and tell him with a smile that he would soon have a little sister, and that he must learn to protect her, like a true knight.

But the memory that surfaced now was from after his sister's birth.

He was standing at the door of the royal nursery, watching his mother, Eleanor, who was seated in a rocking chair in the center of the room. In her arms, she held an infant wrapped in a thick, soft, white swaddling blanket.

The official story was that he had a sister who, shortly after birth, had tragically died due to frailty. In the royal archives, the entry for the princess named Lena was but a few brief sentences. A short, private funeral, closed to the public, had marked the end of her short life. It was known to all as a tragedy for the Rhys family.

But… the scene in his memory was somehow different.

As an eight-year-old boy, he could already clearly discern the emotions of adults. He distinctly remembered his mother holding the swaddled baby, her body trembling slightly. She wasn't crying; she even wore a faint smile, but it was incredibly stiff and did not reach her eyes. Her blue eyes, usually so full of warmth, were now filled with an emotion that he could not fully comprehend then, but which, in retrospect, sent a chill down his spine.

It wasn't the pure grief of a mother who had lost a child.

It was something else… a mixture of profound sorrow and a deeper, all-consuming fear.

That fear, it seemed, was not directed at the fragile life in her arms, but at something unseen, outside the room—something larger, more irresistible. She bent to kiss the bundle, her movements so gentle it was as if she were touching a piece of art that could shatter at any moment, but her eyes were those of a prisoner on her way to the gallows, filled with a desperate plea to hold on to something.

"No… it wasn't that simple…"

Liam muttered the words unconsciously. He shook his head, trying to dispel the sudden chill. He must have remembered it wrong. Perhaps it was a child's memory, muddled with the tragic story he heard later, that had created such an absurd association. He was a king, trained in the strictest logic and history. He believed in evidence and archives, not in a hazy, twenty-year-old childhood vision.

He looked up at the portrait again. The mother in the painting was still so serene, so gentle, haloed in saintly light.

This time, however, Liam could not tear his gaze from her beautiful eyes. He felt as if he could see through the layers of oil paint to what lay hidden behind the smile—the same bottomless sorrow and fear from his memory.

The study was utterly silent, save for the dull, rhythmic ticking of the antique grandfather clock against the wall. The sound was like a relentless countdown for a secret long since buried in dust.

Tagging everyone who showed interest from the SSS post!