#but it's not like i will ever hear anyone pronounce it so i do not care

[loganhowlettshousewife]

animal

chapter 6

friendly reminder that i am not a writer, i'm just a girl who loves logan howlett and wanted to write something exploring his animalistic side since i so rarely see it done. my first language is also not english, so please do not be rude when giving me any feedback.

warnings: swearing, smut, oral (fem!receiving), unprotected piv, my first time writing smut so i'm sorry if it's horrible

series masterlist │my masterlist

you’ve known three versions of logan so far. the feral, animalistic version of logan that seems to be at the core of who he is - without any memories, that’s the personality he reverted to, those were the actions he took when controlled only by his baser instincts. then there’s the version of logan you imagine he’s created over the years to deal with his pain, the one that drinks himself stupid and fights against his nature to make others more comfortable, terrified to hurt anyone, terrified that he’ll prove to everyone that he’s a monster.

this version of logan though, the one you see before you now, is as close as you’ve ever gotten to knowing the real him. a person's memories and experiences make them who they are, shape them as a person, and the same can be said for logan. but he’s no longer trying to hide what his mutation makes him, at least not as much as before. he’s not the innocent, loving man you’d brought into your home - you doubt you’ll ever get that exact version of logan back - but he expresses himself in a new way now.

he’s explained to you some of the conditions of his mutation, why he acts the way he does. it makes more sense to you now, why his face is always finding its way to your neck, pressed to the spot where your scent is the most pronounced, mixing your scent with his to mark you. it soothes him, to walk by you and recognise that even when he’s not at your side his presence clings to you.

it’s nice, watching him slowly let his guard down, opening up to you. you’re proud of him every time he mutters something about himself or his past to you, quickly and quietly as though he’s partially hoping you won't hear him.

“i love you,” he says, taking a break from kissing you to breathe the words into the shared air between you.

you smile back at him. the words are as easy as breathing. “i love you too.”

he kisses you again, loving and intimate, a hand going to your waist, gripping onto your flesh tightly as if you’ll vanish if he ever lets go. you’ll have bruises in the shapes of his fingers tomorrow, a reminder of his touch, of the way he worships your body. you part your lips for him, gasping lightly when his grip tightens, giving him free reign to explore your mouth with his tongue.

heat grows in your stomach, wetness flooding between your legs, insistent, and you grind down on his lap, feeling him growing hard underneath you. he’s big, you’ve seen him naked enough times to know, but it feels different with you pressed against him, much more imposing.

“need you,” he groans, fingers sliding under the elastic waistband of your sleep shorts, releasing it to watch it slap your skin. you gasp again and he chases the noise with his mouth, catching it on your lips.

he takes his time pulling your sleep shorts down your legs, reverently. there’s always a strange duality to intimacy with logan. he’s intense in everything he does, taking you apart multiple times a night, his gaze almost predatory as he explores your body. and yet he treats you like a queen, taking his time to make sure you feel good before he ever does anything for himself.

he spreads your legs open with his large hands, kneeling between your legs. he kisses up your thighs, so close to where you want him and you squirm.

“please, lo,” you beg, your hands in his hair.

he starts off slow, a consistent rhythm that has you begging for more, your moans growing breathier and louder until he can no longer control himself, eating you out like a man starved. his beard burns against your thighs, a delicious pain that only makes the pleasure more intense.

he adds one finger, the thick digit brushing against your walls, pressing against the spot inside you that makes you cry out. his fingers are bigger than your own, longer too, and he’s always much more effective at fingering you to an orgasm, able to give you what you need. he always knows what you need.

he adds a second finger, and that paired with the way his tongue drags against your clit, catching on the tip, has the pressure building inside you. 

your orgasm hits you like a wave, a slow crescendo and then you’re falling. you ride his face as you cum, using your grip on his hair to pull him closer to you, feeling his nose bump against your clit as you press your cunt against his mouth. you shudder as you come down from your high and logan pulls away, mouth and beard glistening with you.

he’s still nearly fully dressed, which you find absolutely unfair, so you pull his shirt off, tossing it aside, making quick work of removing the rest of his clothes until he’s gloriously naked. his cock is hard and proud, flushed and straining.

he needs you, and he tells you so, the words echoing between you, the sentiment going straight to your core.

you wrap a hand around his cock, stroking him a few times, running your thumb over the tip to collect the beads of precum and rub it down his shaft. he groans at the feeling, rutting into your hand. usually this is the part where you take him into your mouth, let him fuck your throat until you’re gagging around him and spit dribbles from your lips around his thick cock.

but you want something different today, you want more. you haven’t taken this step yet, you didn’t feel ready before, wanting to wait until you were at a point where your rocky, unlabeled relationship felt solid. now, you couldn’t imagine not being ready to share this step with him, to give him every piece of you, putting your life and your love in his hands and begging him to keep it, keep you.

“lay down,” you order him, letting go of his cock to shove lightly at his chest, not hard enough to actually move him - you’re definitely not strong enough for that - but he goes willingly, and you smile at how quickly he complies.

you’re not usually the one giving orders in the bedroom, but he’s always weak to your whims, regardless of how small or meaningless they might seem. he wants to make you happy, something he’s told you multiple times when you teased him about how willing he was to do anything you asked of him. you could easily make him submit to you in bed if you batted your eyelashes at him and asked nicely.

he watches you with dark, lustful eyes as you crawl over him, straddling his lap, grinding your leaking pussy against his hard cock. you both moan at the feeling of your wetness sliding against his length, at how ready you both are for this.

“i want you inside me,” you say.

“are you sure?” logan asks, breathless. he wants it, you can see how hard he’s fighting not to rut up into you, but he’s holding back. it makes you feel warm all over, the way he cares so deeply about you, never pushing your boundaries, never wanting to push for more than what you’ll allow. it makes you want him even more.

“i’m sure,” you affirm, “don’t think i’ve ever felt more ready for anything, actually.”

you line him up with your entrance and slowly sink down, feeling the stretch with every inch of him. you're thankful he stretched you out with his fingers, but you have to stop to breathe regardless when he’s halfway inside, the sound of your heavy breathing mixing with his own ragged pants as he fights to let you take the time you need.

finally you sink down onto him, a sigh escaping your lips when he’s fully sheathed inside you. you roll your hips to adjust to the feeling and logan growls, low in his throat. 

you lift yourself up halfway before sinking back down, a new rush of heat rolling over you when you hear the way logan groans. he holds onto your waist as you move, helping lift you so you don’t get too tired, but eventually you start to falter, unable to keep up the steady rhythm. you pout as your movements become slower, annoyed at yourself, but logan takes over the moment you can’t, rolling you over onto your back so he’s hovering above you.

you wince at the feeling of him slipping out of you, but as soon as he has you positioned on your back the way he wants you, he’s lining himself up with your hole again, fucking into you hard and fast.

“this okay?” he asks, though you doubt he needs the answer given how you’re whining and writhing underneath him.

his thrusts are relentless, a steady pace that he could probably keep up for days and days. he has wonderful stamina, something you’d learnt the first time you’d made him cum when his cock immediately hardened again in your hand, your eyes widening as you looked up at him. he’d shrugged and smirked as he explained he didn’t have much of a refractory period. “‘least not when i’m with someone as pretty as you,” he’d continued.

he’s using one hand to grope your breasts and the other sneaks down between your legs, rubbing circles over your clit. he’s hitting that perfect spot inside of you that has you seeing stars, and you can feel your second orgasm approaching, more intense than the first.

“fuck,” logan grunts, “y’feel so good, so tight.”

he looks wild, fucking into you like this, his eyes roaming over your body like a predator assessing his prey. you feel your stomach twist pleasantly at the thought. he keeps up his pace until you’re coming around him and even as you squeeze around him he doesn’t falter.

“logan!” you scream as he continues, overstimulation bordering on painful.

he grunts and growls, and you grip onto his shoulders, your nails digging into his arms. he moans loud when you accidentally draw blood from the intensity of the hold you have on him. you feel the blood welling against your fingertips and then the strange sensation of his skin stitching itself back together until it's smooth again under your touch.

“gonna breed you,” logan growls, and you babble incoherently in response. you’re not quite sure his words are even penetrating your mind. all you hear is the sound of his voice, the rough timbre of it. “gonna make you mine. my mate.”

“yes, yes logan, please, come inside me. need you!” his thrusts get more erratic as he gets closer to the edge, and then they falter for a moment and he’s coming. hot spurts painting your insides as he keeps fucking into you, shallow thrusts that push his cum deeper, closer to your womb.

he presses a kiss to your stomach, nuzzling his head into the soft flesh there. his breathing is as ragged as yours. you feel completely undone, your mind fuzzy and content, like you could stay right here forever and you’d be perfectly happy.

“that was amazing,” you say.

he looks worried now, eyes narrowing like he’s not quite sure he trusts you to be telling the truth, like what just happened wasn’t the best sex you’ve ever had in your life.

“you sure?” he asks, “that wasn’t too much?”

“no,” you smile, “i told you, i like when you act like an animal.”

you can feel his cock hardening again inside you, pressing against your walls. he moves his hips so you can feel it shifting with the change in position, at the perfect angle that he knows will make you scream. you watch his lips curl up, a dark smile that matches the darkness in his eyes as he stares at the way you’re trapped underneath him.

“do you?” he says, not a real question. you love when the feral side of him takes control, and you’re watching it happen now, can read what he wants from the look in his eyes.

yeah, you’re in for a long night. and you couldn’t think of anything better.

“you called me your mate,” you comment much later, feeling sated and boneless with your head resting on logan’s solid chest, feeling it rise and fall along with the steady pace of his breathing.

logan hesitates for a long moment. you can feel him tense underneath you, his muscles freezing in place, the smallest hitch in his breath that you wouldn’t have noticed if not for your close proximity. you don’t mind waiting for him to cycle through his thoughts, the words caught in his throat, seconds ticking by in comfortable silence until his frame relaxes once more and he pulls you in closer.

“i did,” is his only reply. short, succinct, waiting expectantly for your response, your reaction to a term that is distinctly animal-like. it’s also the first time he’s put any sort of label on your relationship, other than calling you “mine”, possessively whispering the word in your ear as if you’ll forget if he doesn’t remind you.

“what does that mean for us?” you ask, tracing patterns on his skin, forming each letter of your name with your index finger, “we’ve never actually said what we are, you know. and i can’t say i know the ‘human’ equivalent of the term mate. does this mean you’re my boyfriend? something else?”

“that’s a childish term,” logan says, lines forming between his brows as he frowns.

you smile, leaning in to kiss away the tension there, feeling the slight sheen of sweat that had formed over his skin while he fucked you, not quite dry yet. you should be getting up to shower, rinsing away the salty layer of sweat from your activities, throwing the ruined bedsheets into the laundry to be replaced by clean ones.

but you’re comfortable where you are now, avoiding the mess you’d made of the sheets by curling up on the other side of the bed, wishing you could push up closer to logan despite the fact that you’re already as close as humanly possible. if only you could crawl into his skin, break past his ribs and settle there, protected where no one else could ever reach you, tucked right against his heart.

“what would you want me to call you then?” you ask.

“for now, nothing,” logan says. in his eyes you see a battle, words and thoughts that you wish you could read, that you hope he’ll one day say aloud. “there isn’t a word that’s enough to describe this. one day i’ll be your husband, but until then, just say you’re mine. my girl.”

“are you proposing to me?” you laugh, eyes bright and smile pulling at your cheeks in a way that’s nearly painful.

“no,” he grunts, “when i propose to you it’ll be much better than this.”

and what else can you do but fall into him? your heart feels like it might burst from the warmth that fills you, threatening to spill out from every cell in your body, too much for anyone to properly handle. it’s on your hands when you use them to hold him down, swinging your leg over his lap so you’re straddled atop of him, kissing him in the hopes that it’s enough to express what words will never be enough to express.

he meets you in the middle, mouth hot and demanding. you’ve never felt more wanted, never felt more loved, like you could take on any struggle the universe may throw at you and be fine because logan’s by your side, always there to catch you. you read the promise on his lips, and the word forever is unspoken but you both hear it anyway.

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[hehearse]

i always read your username as he-hearse? Like, the car, right?

that is the meaning, yes. i, sadly, pronounce it the wrong way for reasons i shan't disclose . (reasons being i did not know how the word "hearse" is pronounced. so JDNDJDJ my own fault)

[mrderondncefloor]

losing all my innocence in the backseat.

wolverine (logan howlett) x virgin f!reader

summary: exactly what it sounds like, losing your virginity in the back of logan’s car.

wc: 2.7k (yea.. 🚬)

warnings/tags: MDNI. porn with plot. car sex! unspecified age gap. logan internal battle if he’s good enough for reader. virginity loss. pet names (princess, bub) dirty talk. blowjob. fingering. logan touches reader. finger sucking. logan can smell reader. pussy pronouns. reader is non descriptive but has hair long enough for logan to hold and is wearing a skirt. masturbation/logan watching reader touch herself. it’s not extensive but there is mention of readers foot rubbing logan’s cock. pretty much readers whole dialogue is begging logan to fuck her lmfao. big dick logan. unprotected sex/creampie (wrap it up!) logan talking you through it. i think this is all but lmk if i missed anything!

authors note: two logan smuts in 24 hours like no i am not ok mentally. also yea.. everyone say thank you addison rae 🙏 i love this song. i’m so much happier with this than what i posted yesterday but yeah anyway if u have requests send send send!!!

the gravel softly crackled beneath the tires of the car as logan pulled off to the shoulder of the road, stretching long and vacant ahead. mötley crüe played low, the leather of logan’s jacket crunching as he pulled the cigar from between his lips, ashing it into the palm of his hand. his brow pushed in a furrow, then eased as he twisted the burnt cherry out into his skin, wound sealing over on it’s own as he looked over at you. you, who looked absolutely gorgeous in the passenger seat of his baby, the setting sun warm on your skin. half the time he’s not sure what you’re doing here with him, damn sure that you had a line of suitors waiting for an ounce of your attention, all of them a better man that he could ever be, but he was too selfish to try an keep himself away from you, pulled in harder each time he told himself to step away. he reached a hand across, rough palm that has been through decades of fighting coming to hold your cheek. he had a hard exterior but was always gentle with you. he watched you, memorizing the curve of your bottom lip, the flush of pink that moves across your cheeks under his eyes. he pulled himself into you, lips pressed to yours, fingers curling at the nape of your neck. he’s kissed you before, plenty make out sessions taking place in his car, on the couch in your apartment, but he’d always stop you before it got too far- always afraid to get closer, to let you give yourself up to a man like him who definitely didn’t deserve one as sweet as you. and believe him, this had taught him well about patience. you never made it easy on him, he could smell the heat between your thighs and it took everything he had in himself to pull back and bid you goodnight. he knew he was in trouble when he pulled off on the side of the road, but he could smell it on you when he picked you up tonight- more pronounced than usual given the skirt that you wear. so god damn short that it was pulling all sorts of attention at the bar you came from, but then again, it’s hard to blame anyone when you look like this. your hands are on him and it’s intoxicating, he loves the way your nails feel when they softly scratch at the back of his head. the warmth of your palms when you squeeze his bicep. his tongue dips into your mouth and he loves the way you hum, as if imagining what more his tongue could do between your thighs. he’s thought about it too, several nights spent jerking himself to what it might be like to taste you. if how you smelt was any indication of how you might taste- fuck was he in for it. your thighs begin to part, he can hear your thighs rub against the leather of the seat as they slowly open, inviting him in. his palm leaves the side of your head, pushing your thighs together again, “don’t do this to me, bub.” he whispered against your mouth, he’s so god damn weak. the smell of his burnt out cigar is slowly fading and you’re taking over, filling his every breath. “please, logan.” the way you plea for him has his jaw tightening, his lips coming back to yours. he kisses you harder this time, trying to distract himself but it’s to no avail, your thighs pulling apart again, sticky with your own self since logan had picked you up earlier tonight. his heart is pounding in his ears, drowning out the sound of the radio station, so focused on you, disappointed when your hand leaves his hair.

a moan hums in your throat and when logan draws back he’s not half prepared for the sight before him. thighs spread, your smaller hand tucked beneath the hem of your skirt, the slow motions indicative of what you were doing. your sweet fills his car, surrounding him as you look up at him with eyes he’s never seen before, so full of want. it’s all so fucking much, and he realizes that denying himself of you won’t go further than tonight. your head slowly falls back against the leather headrest, pads of your fingers slowly working circles against your swollen clit through the lace of your panties, but your eyes hold his, not daring to let him look away. “you want me that bad, bub?” he asks you quietly, the palm of his hand engulfs your thigh, spreading your legs open wider so that he could watch. “it’s all i think about, logan. driving me crazy.” you hum, your fingers already slick through the sheer material, hair sticking to your sweaty neck- the temperature in the car rising as he watched you. he lets his thigh fingers slowly climb closer until he’s gently moving your hand out of his way, hooking your soaked panties with his finger and he tugs them to the side. your pussy glistens under the rapidly fading sun and logan fights to keep his composure. she’s just as pretty as he’d imagined her to be. his hand draws back and his fist clamps, adamantium claw slowly unsheathing itself. “relax, couldn’t ever hurt you.” he promises, using his singular claw to slice your panties in half, chuckling at your gasp.

“logan! i loved this pair!” you swat at him gently as his claw retracts back into his hand. “promise i’ll buy you ten new pairs,” he nods, flat of his tongue licking at his fingers before bringing them to your pussy. he watched you under a furrowed brow, the way you sucked in a slow breath when his calloused fingertips touched your clit, swirling at the swollen nub. you look more beautiful than ever, leaned back into the seat while his fingers rub at your pussy. his cock is pressed hard against the denim of your jeans, low groan peeling out the back of his throat when your slide your bare foot into his lap, sole running against the length of his cock. “greedy girl. let me focus on you, bub,” he nods, lifting your foot from his lap. he chuckles when you pout out a bottom lip but it quickly turns to a moan when his fingers press harder against you. his fingers leave you briefly, spat onto his fingers before they return. “need more, lo, please.” you plea for him and he nods, too far in to not give you what you want. god, he’s obsessed. his middle finger presses at your core and your eyes find his, he leans into you, pressing a soft kiss onto your lips. “couldn’t ever hurt you,” he repeats, and absolutely meant it. he would’ve done anything for you, you were everything to him whether he wanted to admit it to himself or not. you nod, laying back into the seat again as he slowly pushed his middle finger inside your tight walls, all the way to his knuckle. you’re warm and tight around him and he’s eaten up by the feeling of you. you whine softly and he brought his free hand to lay against the back of your head. he gives you a minute before he started to pump his finger inside you, long, slow strokes feeling you out. each soft, breathless moan you let out the button of his jeans strains tighter, fighting to not pop open and ricochet around the car. his thumb fingers your clit, swirling against the nub as his finger slides in and out of your soaked cunt. “more.” you nod, and logan carefully adds a second finger, slower again as he watches your cunt adjust to the stretch, taking him to the knuckle.

his fingers are slick with you as they pump in and out, your arousal wetting the leather of his seat. he took good care of his car, but he’s more than happy to let you make the mess, especially when you looked so god damn perfect doing so. you’ve been torn down to nothing more than soft cries of his name as his fingers pump into you, thumb relentless as it brushed your clit and logan sees stars himself, every second of this tethering him tighter to you. “atta girl. been waitin’ long enough for me to give this to you, go on an cum for me, princess.” his voice is low between the squelch of your pussy that his fingers plunge into, thighs trembling as you melt beneath him, for him, and logan’s lips curl up slowly. he brings you down slowly, fingers pumping slower and slower until he pulls them out, popped onto his tongue like he was a man starved. he feverishly sucks the taste of you off himself, sweet on his tongue and fuck he doesn’t know how he’s managed to go so god damn long without tasting you. his fingers pull off his tongue and are quickly replaced by your mouth as you climb across the front seat into his lap, staining the front of his jeans as you grind yourself down into his lap, desperate for more, to feel full of him in it’s entirety. he lets you rock against his denim as a reminder of you for later, one of his hands wrapped in your hair as he kissed you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue while you push off his leather jacket, leaving him behind in only a white tank top that’s fitted against his broad torso. “lo it’s been long enough.. please,” you beg him and he nods, reaching for the handle and the car door creaks open, stepping out into the night.

the road is empty and he takes his time getting into the backseat with you. the door slams shut behind him, and you’re quickly peeling at his tank top and fighting with his belt buckle as he settled in the seat. “you’d tear me apart f’you could, bub.” he grinned down at you, sighing when you win the battle against his zipper and some of the pressure is relieved. “mhm.” your smile is playful as you tug at his jeans, his head cocked slightly as you lean down into his lap, pressing kisses against him through his boxers. his forehead creased, jaw clamped tight. “you don’t have to do this tonight, bub,” he tried, but fuck does he want you to. “i know,” you nod, reaching a hand into his boxers to pull him out, eyes widened slightly. everything about logan was larger than normal so you shouldn’t have expected much different below his belt, but yet, you’re still surprised at just how big his cock is. he watched you peel at your top, tossed into the front seat, skirt shimmied down over your hips, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. “so god damn pretty.” he shook his head, sucking in a sharp breath when your hand wrapped around his cock, unsure of yourself as you tug at him. “lick your palm, bub.” he instructed quietly, figuring that he might have to walk you through it. your tongue laps a long, spitty stripe against the palm of your hand before you wrap your hand around him again. “jerk it nice an slow,” he nods, pushing a hand back through his hair as he watched your smaller hand carefully pump at his cock, one arm draped across the length of the backseat. “god damn.. s’real good, bub. just like that.” he sighs, hair curling out at the back of his sweaty neck, teeth sinking into the knuckle of his finger. you’ve hardly done much but he was so god damn desperate for you that just about anything could’ve blown his mind right now. a low groan is pulled from the back of his throat when you lean into him, tongue slowly licking up the veins that protrude on the underside of his cock, his eyes fluttering as they roll back. “fuck.” he grits, tongue darting across his wet lips. “come on.. let me feel that pretty mouth.” he motions to you with his chin, watching as your lips wrap around him, holding his base as the warmth of your mouth moves over his cock. the sight of you with his cock in your mouth is something to behold, wordless as your mouth slowly takes him deeper, exploring him, your tongue slowly running over his veins and swirling his tip as his fingers grasped onto the back of your hair, holding it out of the way. the sight of you was enough to drive him fucking crazy. “m’goin’ to cum already f’you keep doin’ that, princess.” he warns, pulling your mouth up from his lap, strings of spit connected between the two of you. he pulls you closer, lips coming back to yours as he pushed off his jeans the rest of the way, shifting in the backseat with you so that you’re laid out across the leather.

a sigh parted logan’s lips as his tip brushed along your slit before aligning himself at your core, pieces of dark hair hung over his forehead as his cock sunk deep inside you. you sleeve around him like you were made for him, squeezing his cock until he’s pressed to the base, your nails clawing at his tanned skin, digging into the muscle of his biceps but his body is quick to rid himself of any long lasting marks. “i know, bub.” he whispered, tip of his nose brushing yours, a sweet kiss pressed onto your mouth. you don’t have to tell him that you love it, he can see it in your eyes, he knows how long you’ve been a good girl and patiently waited to be so full of him while he overthought it time and time again. his hips peel back from yours and he slides back inside with long, slow strokes. his muscles stretch and flex beneath his skin with each roll of his hips, pulling sweet moans from your lips that he’s damn near begging to hear more of, your cries for him so god damn sweet. “she’s fuckin’ perfect, feels so damn good around me,” his mutters, thumb returning to your clit, swirling at the small nub in rough circles as you cry out for him. “m’so full, lo,” “i know, princess. just what you wanted ain’t it?” you nod quickly in response, only part of you grasping the words he’s muttering, the pleasure splitting through you. he takes a look between you, his cock coated in your mess, white ring of creamy arousal built up around his base. “fuck.” he grunts, he’s never seen something so hot in his entire god damn life and that said enough, he’s been around a long god damn time. you catch one of the dog tags that dangled above you in your mouth, teeth clamped down against the steel as you muffled a moan when he fucks you. “cum on my cock, bub. i know she got one more for me, let me have it,” he nods, peeling back to sit upright and he pulls you with him, slowly rolling his hips up into yours and your head drops back. you grasp at his shoulders, his mouth sucking at your exposed throat as he felt your second orgasm rip through you, pussy clamping around his cock. your cries drown out the sound of 80’s rock playing from the stereo, pushing your hips down into his, desperately chasing after his orgasm. “inside, please.” you beg, your fingers weaving into his dark hair. logan is too far gone to argue you, to not give you what you’re asking for, cock buried deep inside you when he came undone, painting you with him just like you’d asked of him. his heart drums in his ears, sighing as his head drops forward against your shoulder, pressing a kiss to your bare skin, palms slowly moving across the span of your back.

sat in logan’s lap while he puffs at his relit cigar he looks over at you with a smirk curled on his mouth. “jesus, bub. i think i might be in love with you.”

[checosbluespring]

secrets we keep (pt2) → mv1

max verstappen x perez!fem reader

genre: teammates sister, pregnancy

cw: 18+ MDNI, smut, oral (female receiving), p in v, slight possessiveness, dirty talk, pregnancy, childbirth (brief), slight angst?, pls let me know if i am forgetting anything

word count: 6.4k

song: coraźon sin cara-prince royce

sidenote: omg!! finally after 2 monthes i am finally done with part 2 of secrets we keep. this is the last part of the series but if you guys want i could do an epilogue, let me know what yall think. also thank you so so so much for all the positive feedback on this story, you are all amazing. please send in requests and i will do them to the best of my ability! also like true me fastion this is not beta read. hope you all enjoy <3

you can read part one here

♡♡♡♡

It's been three months since you first found out about the baby. You haven't told anyone. Trying your best to hide your newly growing bump. Even though you were scared, you knew you wanted to keep the baby. Even if you had to pack up and leave everything behind, this baby was yours and you were going to be their mom. 

It wasn't hard keeping this a secret from your brother, he was halfway across the world but your mom and dad on the other hand were difficult. As time went on you felt as if you couldn't keep it a secret from anyone. You felt alone, you had to go to all your doctors appointments by yourself and it was scary. 

You wanted to showcase your pregnancy, wanted a baby shower, to wear long flowy dresses that pronounced your bump. You wanted to start decorating a nursery for the baby. You couldn't do that alone, you needed to tell someone. You needed to tell your mom. But that meant telling them that you would be a single parent. Not that there's anything wrong with that but you know that's not what your family envisioned for you. You couldn't keep doing this alone though. You are about to find out the sex of the baby and you want your whole family to be there.

Making your way to your parents house, you see your brother's car in the driveway. You don't panic right away because you assume it's carola bringing the kids over to visit. When you walked in you shouted “mamá estoy en casa” mom I'm home. You miss living with them but you visit almost every other day, so really it's like you never left. 

Walking through the house you hear no-one, but as you make your way through the kitchen to the back patio you see your brother. “Ay dios mio” oh my god, you scream and practically run into Sergio’s arms. 

“Hola hermanita” hi baby sister, he says while hugging you back. You blame it on the pregnancy hormones but you start crying. “Hey, qué pasa?” What's wrong? He asked in a worried tone. You don’t know what overcame you but you felt the sudden urge to tell them. 

“¿Puedes sentarte con mamá y papá?” Can you sit with mom and dad? It’s just the four of you at the house. The sooner you get this done, the sooner you can start living life. Your mom and dad look worried, you don’t want to scare them so you just blurt it out.

“Mamá, papá, sergio, estoy embarazada” mom, dad, sergio, I’m pregnant. Nothing would prepare you for the looks on their face. Your mom and dads jaw on the floor, your brother's jaw clenched.

“Hablas en serio” are you serious, your dad spoke up. All you can do is nod. “Who’s the dad? How did this happen” your mom said in English. You knew she was shocked because she hardly ever used English when it was just the 4 of you. It’s not like you weren’t expecting them to ask who the father was. But you hadn’t quite thought of who you were going to tell them. Because there is no way you are going to tell them about Max, they would kill you. Sergio would look at you differently. 

“I-i-i, I can’t tell you who it is because he doesn’t matter, he doesn’t want to be a father right now and I won’t put him in the position to do so. I want this baby because I know I have you guys to help support and love me. This baby is going to be so loved, it doesn’t need a dad because they are going to have sergio and dad being a great role models for them. Mom, I need your love and guidance right now more than anything in the world. I am still your daughter, I want you to love this baby no matter what, no matter who their dad is, or how they were conceived” you said while big tears rolled down your face. 

Segio was the first to move and give you a hug, whispering “I always got you”. He leans back and places a hand on your stomach, “seré un tío” I am going to be an uncle. 

You nod and smile. Your mom and dad look perplexed but they make their way to you and both give you a kiss on the cheek and a hug. “No puedo esperar para conocerte bebé''  I can’t wait to meet you baby,  your mom said while holding your stomach. You know it’s going to take some time for your dad to come around to the idea but he’s supportive and that’s all that matters. 

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Over the next couple of weeks you finally start getting stuff ready for the baby. Buying stuff for the nursery and clothes for yourself. Right after your brother found out about the pregnancy he took you to the store and had you pick out a crib you liked. You were forever grateful to have him. 

It’s Friday morning and you are patiently waiting for your mom and carola to pick you up for your ultrasound appointment, where you would be finding out if you are having a boy or girl. You are beyond excited. You don’t care what you have, as long as the baby is healthy and happy. 

Getting up to put your shoes on, you hear your phone ring, assuming it’s your mom and sister in law telling you that they are ready for you to come out. You look at your phone and see it’s a text from a random number. Something in the universe is telling you not to open it, but you do. 

Hey y/n. It’s max. I just wanted to text you and see how you are. I know it’s been a couple of months since we last talked, but I feel like you are avoiding me. I take part of the blame too. I should have reached out but I was expecting to see you in Miami but you weren’t there. Is it because of me? I promise I’ll leave you alone if it is. I just want to make sure you are okay. I hope to see you at the Mexico GP in the next few months. Please text me if you ever need anything. I’m here for you. 

You don’t realize the way your eyes are stinging with tears until after you are done reading the text. A pang of guilt and sadness washes over you. You want to be so mad at max for texting you, but you know he has no idea, and he’s just trying to be nice. Your heart physically hurts, it’s like your baby knows it’s missing a piece of something. You remind yourself though that you are strong, so is this baby, and max is just getting started with his career. He does not need you or a baby weighing him down. 

Jolting you out of your thoughts, you hear the car horn signaling you to walk out the door. You can’t dwell on max, he’s a distant memory. All you should be focusing on is this baby. No matter how bad it hurts not having the father of your child around. 

Once at the doctors office, you are laying down with your belly exposed and cold gel covering every inch. “Do you want to know the sex of the baby?” You nod eagerly and hold your moms hand. 

“Ooo they are hiding from me, come on baby let’s see what you are” finally finding a good position, the doctor takes a few pictures and says “congratulations mama, it looks like you are having a girl”. You look over to see your mom crying and Carola recording everything. “I’m having a baby girl” you kept repeating to yourself. You have never felt more happy. 

When you are home alone, you start to think of the life you and your daughter will have. How you are going to homeschool her, and travel everywhere together. But your mind drifts to what could have been if max was involved. You had no doubt that max would be the best dad. He would be devoted and loving. A good father. He would take your daughter all over, putting her in karting right away but ultimately letting her choose her own path. Stop y/n, you tell yourself, those are dreams that won’t be coming true but you and your family will provide the best life for your baby girl. 

All you can do is be thankful and happy, you want to embrace pregnancy in the next 5 months. You ultimately decide it’s best not to text max back, not to add fuel to the fire. You hope as time goes on you are able to accept the fact that max won’t be a part of this journey. 

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Months have passed, leaving you in your third trimester with little under eight weeks until you meet your precious baby. Pregnancy has been tough but also so rewarding, you can finally feel her little kicks, especially when you are watching your brother race on tv, subconsciously you wonder if she gets so excited because she sees her dad but then you tell yourself to stop being so delusional and she doesn't even know who her father is.

The Mexico GP is today and you have already told your entire family you aren't going. It would be too risky for the baby, but in reality it's too risky for max to see you. There was no more hiding your pregnancy. No matter how big the shirt or hoodie is, you can still see your bump. It’s better you stay home and just wait for everyone to come back. 

Kicking your feet up, you turn on the tv and watch the start of the race. You see the crowds filled with your brother's face, and his number along with max’s. Sergio had a great start, pushing to the front of the grid, having him leading the race. Max followed closely behind him. 

The race after the start was uneventful. Your brother won and you were extremely sad you didn't get to be there to congratulate him in person. Max was second and then Oscar, it was a good podium in your eyes. 

You patiently wait for your entire family to come home including your brother. You knew that would be hours though, so you decided to take a nap on the couch. That nap ended up being a five hour nap and when you opened your eyes you saw it was dark out. Something woke you up though and it was the sound of the front door of your parents house unlocking. Sitting up you get ready to jump into your brother's arms to congratulate him. One by one your family walks in, mom, dad, carola, the kids, sergio, and then max. 

You feel your heart drop to your stomach, you have to think quickly. He may find out you are pregnant but your family doesn't need to know that. Walking confidently over to your brother you pull him into a hug and say “felicidades hermano estoy muy feliz por ti” congrats brother I am so happy for you. You have yet to acknowledge that max is even standing in your familys living room with his mouth agape. Sergio hugs you back and says a quiet thank you. 

“¿Por qué está Max en la casa?” Why is max at the house? You say to your brother hoping max did not catch any of that. But your brother had a different idea. 

“Max wanted to come see the house and the city so we offered to let him stay the night and we can take him sightseeing tomorrow!” 

You nod your head and walk over to him, extending your hand out for him to shake. “Welcome max, and congrats on the podium” you say. There was no way he didn't see your stomach. You were wearing a tiny tank top that you practically spilled out of. You know he's not going to say anything to you in front of your family. So maybe if you went to your room and ignored him this whole thing would blow over. 

You should know better than that though. Because your family loved to bring up the fact that you are pregnant. You couldn't blame them, they had no idea that the father of the baby was 2 feet away from them.

Your mom was the first to speak up. “How is the baby Amor, did you get to rest or did she keep you up”. Well now he knows it's a girl. A part of you wanted to go cry in a corner but another part wanted to dote on your daughter no matter what. “No she has been really content today, during the race when she saw you sergio she got so happy, she was moving all over the place”.

A big smile formed on your brother's face, “that's my niece, she couldn't wait to see her uncle win”. You take a sneakily look over to max and he looks confused, hurt, and tired. You can't deal with this, you have to excuse yourself. You are going to tell them you have to go back to your house, even though you have been spending the last week sleeping over at your parents. 

“Guys I think I am going to drive back to my apartment, that way max can sleep in my room” you say hoping you came off as convincing 

“Nonsense, I can sleep on the couch” max is quick to reply.

Your dad is next to reply “you can't leave in the middle of the night, you are 8 months pregnant, you can't be alone”.

You don't have the energy to fight them so you bid them a goodnight and head to your room, hoping you don't get a visitor late in the night. Oh how could you be so wrong. 

Tossing and turning in your bed you can't fall asleep, maybe it was the nap, maybe it was because your baby's father was 10 feet away from you. You don't know if it's the hormones but you want him, it's like a primal urge. Like you have been separated for so long and he just suddenly came back and he looked good. His hair is long, a tiny bit of stubble growing on his cheeks. 

You have to sleep but you can't. You look at your phone and it's 3 in the morning, max has to be asleep right, it was an exhausting race. He wouldn't wake up right? If you go out to make yourself some tea. 

You hate yourself for it but part of your subconscious wants him to ask, but you know deep down that would be the worst possible idea. Throwing your feet off the bed you stand up unsteadily and start to slowly walk out of your room. Max looks like he’s asleep as you pass the couch. Once in the kitchen you turn on the small light next to the oven and start to make yourself some tea. 

Once done with putting everything away you turn around to grab your drink but see a sleepy looking max walk over to you. You don't mean to sound hostile but you do when you say “why are you up”. This was the man you loved, the father of your baby, but you were angry, at yourself or at him, you didn't know. 

“I could ask you the same question” he responded. “I couldn't sleep, so I needed to get myself some tea, goodnight max”. You begin to walk away and as you walk past him he grabs your arm and says “wait, we need to talk”. Shit you've been caught, you think to yourself.

“About what?” Maybe if you play dumb he will also and ignore everything. 

“You know about what y/n, don't play dumb, it's not a good look on you” max says with a snarl and strong grip on your forearm. The authoritativeness of his voice and demeanor sends chills down your spine. 

“Okay, but not here” you whisper. Grabbing his hand you wander outside to the patio where no one can hear you from inside the house. You sit down and let max talk. 

“So. You're pregnant?” 

“Yes” is all you can say

“Your dad said you're eight months pregnant, so either you were pregnant when we slept together, or that baby is mine. Which is it y/n?” 

“I - I, it's none of your business max, this baby and I were fine before this and we will be fine long after you leave” you stutter out.

“So she is mine, god damnit y/n, why didn't you tell me? I've lost 8 months of your pregnancy. Were you ever going to tell me?” 

Guilt is eating away at you and you feel tears burning your eyes.

“I didn't think you would want anything to do with the baby max, you and I live completely different lives. You are you max, having a baby is a big responsibility. Do you know how hard it is for carola? She has four babies. She has to take them on planes all over the world so they can see their dad. How could I raise a baby with you, when we hardly know each other? When you don't even want to be with me? Tell me max, how would that work?”

“That's not your decision to decide on your own. How could you hide this from me? I could have been there for you, I could have been the one taking you to doctors appointments. Who knows?”

“Who knows what?”

“Who knows I’m the dad?”

“No one, I told them it doesn’t matter who the father is”

“I can’t believe you y/n, now everyone is going to think I’m some deadbeat dad who doesn’t want to be a part of their baby’s life. Well to hell with that, no more secrets. I am going to raise this baby and we are going to do it together” he said.

All you can do is nod your head and whisper out an “okay max, no more secrets”

“And who said I didn’t want to be with you?” 

This catches your attention, because you hoped he would have ignored you when you said that. But of course he didn’t, max is the most observant person you've ever met.

“Max you have no idea how long I’ve been in love with you. Long before you and segio even became teammates, I yearned for you. But I refuse to trap you into staying with me just because I am having your baby”

“Again y/n that’s not your decision to make, do you think I would have slept with you if I didn’t have feelings for you. What kind of guy do you think I am? Y/n I don’t know where we stand on us being together but we are both the parents and I know we care for eachother. I will move to Mexico if I have to, but you are not going to keep this baby out of my life”

“I understand max, but what are we going to do when the press find out? Do you really want your daughter under that scrutiny? How are we going to tell our families? I’m sure my brother and your father are gonna be really fond of the idea of us having a baby together”

“Y/n you are not listening to me, none of that matters, who cares what anyone says. If your brother decides to punch me so be it, but that’s not going to stop me from being a loving and present dad, I’m not going to be like my father”

Something snaps inside of you, a need to reassure him and be close to him. You stand up and grab both his hands.

“Of course you aren’t going to be like your father, you are an amazing person, I didn’t keep this pregnancy a secret because I thought you would be a bad dad, I did it because I was scared of everything else. You don’t know how much I wished you were at the doctors appointments with me holding my hand. Going shopping to buy clothes and bottles. Some nights I would cry myself to sleep knowing our daughter would grow up not having you in her life. Taking her karting, protecting her, chasing her around that paddock. So don't ever think I hid her from you because I thought you were going to be a bad dad. It was me who was scared of how everyone would react and what they would say when they found out their precious max verstappen would have a child out of wedlock”. 

Max pulls you into a hug, and for once in these past 7 months of pregnancy you felt like you could finally breathe.

“I’m going to protect you guys no matter what” he muttered into your hair.

The baby was excited, maybe because she knew her dad was finally with us. She was kicking up a storm. 

“Max feel, she’s so happy you are here” you say as you grab his hand and place it on your tummy. 

“She’s strong, maybe she will want to play football one day” he says with a smile. 

“Let’s go to bed, we can talk more tomorrow” grabbing his hand you lead him to your bedroom.

Laying down on your side, max lays behind you and places a hand over your stomach. You sleep the best you have in a very long time. 

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Telling your family that max was the father of your baby went as well as you would think. No glasses were broken, no bleeding, there were some strong words shared but honestly you expected that. 

As max was taking a shower, you sat in the living room waiting for everyone to come out to leave. Your brother plops down next to you and says “you know you could have told me”

“I couldn’t sergio, I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me”

“Y/n you are my sister, you always come first before my career, I could never be disappointed in you. Grossed out a little? Yeah. But never disappointed.”

You find yourself laughing and laying your head on his shoulder. You don’t know how you got so lucky to have a family so supportive. 

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Being with max is like a breath of fresh air. You didn’t know how bad you actually needed him, and now that you actually have him, you aren’t sure you can let go.

He jumped into his role of father to be fast and efficiently, much like he does with everything else. Before he left back to Monaco, he asked if he could go to a doctor's appointment with you and of course you said yes. You did make him wear a mask and hoodie to help disguise him. 

Your doctor was surprised to see you come with a man, as you thought she probably assumed you were doing this alone. 

“Who is this?” She asks with a smile and extends her hand out for max to shake.

Just as you were about to say a friend. He beats you to the punchline. 

“Hello, I am the father of the baby, sorry it’s taken so long for us to meet, my work schedule keeps me busy” You smiled and grabbed his hand. 

The rest of the appointment was smooth, the exciting part was the ultrasound. Max was by your head, watching tentatively at the screen.

“Baby girl looks good, has a fast little heart beat, height and weight are all in range, let’s take a listen to her” the doctor says as she allows us to hear the echoes of the baby’s heartbeat. This wasn’t new to you, but you never got over the fact that you were growing another life in you. You look over and see max in absolute awe. If you look close enough you actually think you see a tear in his eye. He grips your hand tight and says “her heart beat is so fast and strong, oh my god I can’t believe we are actually seeing her, doctor can I please have an ultrasound picture”. You are shocked he asked her for one, but for some reason his asking really reassured you that he was in this for the long haul, even if you guys weren’t a couple. 

The appointment wraps up with the doctor giving us a couple ultrasound pictures and instructions to not travel, as you might actually deliver within the next couple of weeks if not sooner. 

As you are driving home with max you ask what he thought. “Y/n that was amazing, I can’t believe we are having a little girl. She’s so big and strong already, do you have any names you think? I know we have a lot of stuff to discuss but after seeing her, everything seems like it’s going to work out. I will do whatever I have to, to keep you and her safe”.

You feel the words get stuck in your throat, all you can do is nod and say “it’s going to be the greatest experience you and I have ever accomplished. As for names, I have a couple in mind but I want your input. I have always really liked the name Alejandra or Catalina. but I want her to have a part of your culture in her name as well”. You look over to him to see a satisfied smile resting upon his face. 

“I think those are great names, she will have a part of me in her last name, so whatever first name you want, I am happy to go along with it”. 

Life feels really good right now. The sun is shining, and even though you and max are not together in the way you want, you will both work together to provide your daughter a happy life.

Max takes you back to your place. As you both walk in, you wash your hands and proceed to plop down on the couch, not bothering to take off your shoes. Max notices and kneels in front of you to unlace your laces, slowly taking them off. You don’t know if it’s the hormones but the tiniest of touch was leaving you with butterflies in your stomach. 

“Thank you max” you muttered. 

“What kind of partner would I be if I wasn’t able to do this for you” your heart skips a beat when he says the word partner. 

Once finished he stands to look down at you. “You know y/n, pregnancy suits you. You look so pretty with our baby growing in you”. You can’t help but blush at the compliment. Starting to feel a heat overtake your body. You wanted him, but you couldn’t let him know that.

It’s like he could read your mind though. “Do you know I think about our night together often, every time before bed I touch myself thinking about your body and how it felt. Ever since being in Mexico, everytime I shower I get myself off thinking of you. Seeing you so domestic, barefooted, pregnant, not a care in the world, It makes me feral for you. I crave you y/n, do you feel the same?”

If it was easy for you to get up from the couch you would have pounced on him in a second. But instead he understands and grabs both of your arms, hoisting you up so you are standing in front of him. “Max, do you know how difficult it has been for me to not kiss you, grab you, love you this past week, I want you so bad, I want to be yours forever and always”

That's all max needs to hear before he grabs your face leading you into a kiss. It's a little awkward because of your big belly but you guys make it work. You can't stop kissing him. Things get heated very fast, teeth clashing, lips being bitten, hair being pulled. Max leads you to your bedroom where he takes off his shirt then yours. You hadn't worn a bra that day so he immediately went to grab your tits, worshiping them.

“God, your tits are amazing, they are so massive, presented to me, ready for me to take and devour”

You moan in response when you look down to see max leaving feather-like kisses around your nipples. When he hears your moan he pops one of your nipples into his mouth and begins to suck. While it all felt so good, you wanted him in you and he could tell you were growing impatient.

Popping off, he leads you to the bed and makes you sit. Your face now level with his crotch. You take this opportunity to start to unbuckle his belt and shimmy his pants and underwear off. Just as you are about to take him into your mouth, he stops you. 

“Not today darling, today is about you, and I want to taste you, I've been dreaming about it for months”

He lays you back gently, pulling off your pants and underwear you feel the slightest insecure at being so exposed. In response you try and close your legs but he doesn't let that stop him. He separates them open with his hands, kneeling in front of you. 

“Don't hide from me baby, let me make you feel good” max says as he looks up at you for confirmation.

You nod, and prop yourself up on your elbows so you can see what he's doing. Quite honestly you can't really see him because your belly is in the way but you do make eye contact with him as he makes his way down. 

He licks a fat stripe right on your heat, it sends shocks of pleasure coursing through you. Max proceeds to kiss along the sides of your thighs, teasing you.

“Max, babe, please” you beg out.

“Is my girl needy for me? You're mine right? No one else, just mine. Say it y/n, tell me you are mine” 

He has barely touched you and you already feel so fucked out. You manage to get the words out though “yes max I'm yours, only yours, I only have ever wanted you”. That seems to satisfy him because his mouth is on your clit in seconds. Taking his time between licking and sucking the bundle of nerves. It felt euphoric, max didn't get a chance to go down on you the first time you guys had sex, but now that you've got a taste of what his mouth could do, you don't know how you could ever let it go. 

Sucking hard on your clit, he takes the opportunity to stick his middle finger in you. Slowly working you open, not that you need it, you are dripping in arousal. Your moans are filling up the room, max adds a second finger in you, curling up, creating something you have never felt before. The way his fingers moved inside of you, the way his mouth devoured you. It felt so good, you felt bad because you were pulling his hair, practically moving his face. 

“Fuck, max your mouth feels so good”.

Max takes his mouth off of you and says “you taste so good y/n, I could eat you out for hours on end” 

You never pegged max to be a man practically starved for pussy but here you are, and you are grateful that he is. You needed him in you though. 

“Amor (love), please come fuck me, I need it so bad” 

“How can I say no to my pretty girl, lay on your side” 

You shimmy yourself up the bed, laying on your side. Max makes his way beside you, laying down. You take the opportunity to turn your head back and look at him. You see him slowly pumping his cock, about to slide it in you he asks, “Shit, do you want me to wear a condom”

Quite literally you couldn’t want anything less. “No no no, please I want to feel you fill me up. I want to be dripping with your cum” 

“Fuck you drive me crazy y/n, you have such a dirty mouth on you.”

You reach back and grab his hip, helping him line himself up with your entrance. He trusts into you in one swift motion, the burn is just like you remember. The stretch is unlike anything you’ve ever felt. Max takes his hand and reaches over to interlock his fingers with yours. No words have been exchanged but you have never felt closer to him than in this moment. 

You can’t reach back to kiss him, but he does leave a trail of wet, sloppy, kisses down your neck. You can already tell you aren’t going to last much longer, you have had so much bottled up, you needed a release. Max can tell by the way you are clenching down on him. 

“Are you close? Play with your pretty clit for me, I’m right there with you”

You nod vigorously, taking your hand and rubbing between your legs. The next thing you know you feel your climax reach an all time high, and you are cumming all over his cock. You let out the biggest moan and feel your legs shaking. You can feel yourself throbbing, basically begging Max to cum inside you. He grabs your hip hard, you look down and see his knuckles are white, he slams into not once, not twice, but three times and suddenly you feel a warm liquid filling you up. Max groans, placing his face in your neck. 

You guys lie there in a comfortable silence, just enjoying the closeness and comfort, because tomorrow he will be leaving back home and you don’t know how you are going to handle it.

Max slowly slides out of you and you feel his seed leaking out of you down your thighs. He kisses your cheek and mutters something about cleaning you up. He comes back in with a wipe and spreads your legs to clean you up. This feels extremely intimate but you allow yourself to be comfortable with it because you deserve to be taken care of. 

After everything is sorted, you are both laying down and it’s you who speaks first. “Max, what does this mean”

He takes a deep breath before speaking. “I was mad at you for not telling me, I needed time to process everything, which is why I told you I needed time, but don't ever for a second doubt I didn't want you or the baby. I'm in it for the long run y/n. I’ll follow you both anywhere.”

“I’m sorry max, I can't imagine a life where you and I aren't together” 

“You shouldn't be due until the end of the season, so right after the last race i'll pack a couple of bags and stay down here. I was thinking we would spend the first 6 months in Mexico and the next 6 in Monaco. I'll keep paying the house so we can go whenever. When racing starts back up we will figure it out then but im looking forward to having a couple of months with you guys disturbance free”

Your heart warms at the idea of him finding compromises for the both of you. And he was right, we would figure the logistics out as time went on, all that mattered was that you both were on the same page. 

˚��　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. 　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ✦

Max and Sergio finished the season off strong, and max stayed true to his word. Right after the last race he was on the first plane out to Mexico to join you for the birth. 

Quite honestly he came in just enough time because not even two days after his arrival, your water broke. 

“Do we have everything packed in the car max” you ask while pacing around the room.

“Yes sweetheart, let's get going” 

As you expected max was completely calm and collected, acting as a support system. When the doctor came in and told you, we were ready to push, you got scared and max could sense that. He grabbed your hand and whispered “hey look at me. everything is going to be okay, do you think I would ever let anything happen to you guys? you are so strong and I can’t wait to see our beautiful daughter”

His words of encouragement helped you during the delivery process and before you knew it, your baby girl’s cry’s entered the room. 

“Dad, do you want to cut the umbilical cord?” the doctor asked. The sheer look of awe was all over max’s face. You watch as he gently cuts the cord and makes his way back to you. After she is cleaned up they plop her down on your chest and you just take her in. She is the perfect mix of both of you, she has max’s pretty turquoise eyes and your dark hair. 

You look up at max and see that he has tears in his eyes. 

“She’s so beautiful, she’s perfect y/n and she’s all ours”

You nod because you are at a loss for words at how special this moment is.To think what this would look like right now if you never told him. Looking at both max and the baby, you begin to wonder how lucky you got. This baby started as a secret but ended up being the best thing that could happen to either of you. And you can’t wait to see the life that you and max build together. 

♡♡♡♡

[poisondionaea-art]

For anyone who wants to write fanfics or comics, ect about characters from Louisiana (Gambit, alastor, ect.) with accuracy to Louisiana and any French we speak here.

⚜️There's a lot of information after the phrases just an FYI ⚜️ I add a few things that I forgot about.

Common phrases used in Louisiana are:

Sha

(pronounced like it's spelled) this is a gender neutral term used for all ages, it's a friendly term used to address someone, most people use it for everyone. Inflections and sentences can change it to be more familial or romantic but it's often just used when addressing someone else. A lot of people use this term and say it for everyone they meet. This is used to replace cher and cheri, no one uses cher and cheri ever, have never heard a single person in Louisiana use those terms in my entire life.)(commonly said at the beginning or end of a sentence when addressing someone also typically accompanied my 'oh' or 'mais/man'

Examples :"oh sha, can you grab me that bottle right there." " How you been sha" "man sha, you seen what that man did over there" "oh mais sha, eat, you must be starving"

beaucoup

(boo•coo) very much, plenty/ plentiful, very, much, an exuberant/ large amount of something. Each of these can be used it just depends on the context, it is often used in 'thank you' or in jest or exasperation to emphasize that someone has a large amount of something. Sometimes people also use it in a jesting manner to make fun of how little someone has when they are trying to pretend like it's a lot. Extremely common to hear in New Orleans slightly less use in the rest of the state but is still used often. Commonly said as "beaucoup much" (younger generation born late 90s to present mainly use this one) or by itself

Examples: "did you see the amount of bread loafs that guy had in his buggie, he had beaucoup things of bread"

Merci also "merci beaucoup" or "beaucoup merci"

(mer•see) thank you, thank you very much, plenty thanks, very thanks. Still widely used across Louisiana rather commonly. Not everyone says it but it's just a personal preference, the people that do use it often still say thank you in English from time to time, they just also like using these terms as well. These phrases are also used for everyone it doesn't need to be reserved for special times/ people.

Example: " merci, have a nice day" kinda self explanatory

Adieu

(a•doo) kinda like goodbye I think I've heard a some people say it but it's definitely not the most common. They said it in place of good bye so I've just always assumed that's what it meant.

Petite

(pa•teet) small, little, tiny. This is already used in the English language show I don't really have to explain it much but it is commonly used among Cajuns and other Louisianaians to address a person affectionately especially when you add another word behind it. Sometimes people will say "mon petite ___" or "petite ____" sometimes shortcutted to "te" sometimes just say patite if it's an nickname the additional thing will most likely be in French and be something that the person likes or enjoys. I've rarely heard it used otherwise unless talking about clothing.

Examples: my grandmothers used to call me "Mon petite papillon" (my tiny butterfly) and "petite minou" (small kitty) because one grandmother's favorite animal was a butterfly and the other's is a cat.

Nanny and parrin

(nan•ee) (pah•ra) god mother and god father, most people call them by these terms so if you here someone from Louisiana talk about their nanny they don't mean someone their parents hired to look after them they mean their god mother.

Couyon

(coo•yaw) fool or idiot. Typically used in rather jest or scolding but typically when joking around. More common in Cajun areas than New Orleans. Sometimes if someone does something foolish especially after being told not to or is just being really clumsy or acting stupid/ rude then people will just call them couyon and walk away or laugh at them.

Example: " will you stop acting like a couyon? We need to get a move on."

Mais

(mah) but . See Sha for example of use mainly used with Sha .

Allons also "allons dan ser"

(ah•law) (ah•law don say) let's go and the phrase commonly used with it is "let's go dancing" more Cajun area use then New Orleans.

Beb also bébé

(pronounced like it's spelled) babe or baby also typically used in a neutral manner when talking to people, can be used for anyone but is most commonly used among family or close friends especially for people younger than you. Can also be used in a romantic connotation like babe or baby usually it is generally affectionate no matter how it's used. Can be used for strangers typically said by women but men do say it.

Example: "bébé can you go to the kitchen and get me a soda"

Just please please don't use cher or cheri no one says that around here it's almost always specific nicknames rather of things the person talking likes or the person listening likes. Please see petite for example.

Gambit is likely to say card related nicknames since he likes gambling, I know a few people who like playing cards who call people things like king and queen quite often as well as like 'my heart', 'little diamond'

In French those would be "reine" (Queen) or "dame" (lady/ queen) , "roi" (king) , "Mon cœur" (my heart/my core), " petite diamant" (little diamond)

For Alastor I'm not sure that there's anything radio related that people would use, my family has been in the radio business for a while and I've never heard any from any of my family members or my parents. He is likely to use deer related ones especially if they are puns.

Examples: " Mon biche" (feminine) or "Mon cerf" (masculine) (both mean my deer) , and "petite biche" (fem) or "petit cerf" (masc) (both mean little deer). He also likes music and that would be more like "Mon musique" (my music).

Any of these can just be said in English not every nick name or pet name is said in French.

Everyone is different so some people throw in more French some people less, nowadays people don't really speak fluent French unless they're old or rich.

Gambit was raised in a cult basically so he does get somewhat of a pass to speak more French if you want him to but it's not super common in New Orleans.

Alastor would have spoken French being from 1920s but being a radio host he probably would have also learned English and went through vocal training to get rid of his accent. ( My family has been in the Louisiana radio business for decades and they all had to train to get rid of their Cajun accents when they started working for the radio stations) Also Alastor is creole not Cajun I will explain the difference more towards the end.

If you want to add the characters speaking French you can just use Parisian French (French spoken in France) no one is gonna be upset if you do there are also no translators on the internet that I know of that have Cajun or Creole (Canadian is also acceptable if your Canadian or know Canadian)

There are a lot of different accents in Louisiana not just Cajun (called flat talk by locals most of the time) .

Some people speak with southern accents, some have Cajun but most talk like stereotypical Americans or have an accent that comes along with speaking AAVE.

Creole accents are like French and Jamaican accents combined it's pretty rare for people to have the accent nowadays though and for some people it can be slightly different

You don't have to write out accents if you don't want to.

Which leads to my next point most people in Louisiana speak in AAVE (African-American Vernacular English) especially closer to and in New Orleans.

The farther away from the 1930s-1940s the character(s) are the less French they will naturally speak and put into everyday encounters. Most people in present day Louisiana especially in areas like New Orleans don't speak French and only add in what few words they do know or are still within common use in day to day conversations.

After this point it is random facts about Louisiana ⬇️

Why did people stop speaking French in Louisiana after this specific period of time?

Great question, the answer is that there had been a law put in place at the time, that declared that everyone had to learn English as it was assigned as the official language of the United States. From what I've been told by my grandparents the law makers cited that they wanted Louisiana to be more welcoming to tourists and the large incoming crowd of refugees and migrants as the reason for the law being inacted.

My grandparents stated that it was probably so that the refugee and migrant crowds wouldn't isolate themselves to only people who spoke their languages. In order to keep unsavory groups from forming (if there were any n@zis among the German crowd, other axis power supporters among the Italians or Japan's crowds as well) they forced everyone to learn English.

I don't actually know what this law was but my grandparents have talked about it since I was little. They were forced to learn English when they hit elementary school and my great grandparents were forced to learn English or possibly lose their jobs, in some cases they were threatened with arrest or their children getting taken away.

This created fear that caused parents to decide to stop teaching their kids French. When my parents were born my grandparents barely taught them any French and mainly taught them English. Rarely anyone in my parents generation could speak or understand full French.

Some parents didn't want to teach their children French only for them to never be able to speak it outside the house.

I also have a feeling that this law was also partially put in place because of Quebec, Canada as they fought for their right to keep speaking French and threatened to become their own country if forced to conform to English like the rest of Canada. So the U.S. was probably trying to stop that from happening with Louisiana.

Also New Orleans has been regularly speaking English since before the rest of Louisiana was mandated to, because it is a port and always has been. It's also been a high tourism area for quite a while as well.

What is the difference between Cajun and Creole ?

Creole means French or Spanish settlers that came directly from the "motherland" (France or Spain) originally this term was more or less used to establish elite status as most of these people were from rich families and paid a lot of money to secure their position in the new colonies belonging to France the term was extended to the Spanish when they had control over Louisiana.

This term eventually came to blanket over slaves and their descendents as well that were under the control of these people, the current Creole culture was mainly shaped by these families as well as the families of Haitian slaves and their descendents that were also brought into Louisiana to serve the Creole people.

This is where voodoo and hoodoo become a part of creole culture because the enslaved persons brought their culture and religion with them from Africa to Haiti and then to Louisiana when they were forced to change location again.

Creole people lived mainly in New Orleans and the surrounding area, most of them owned farmland slightly farther out from the city but lived in the city center while things were tended to by enslaved persons and a person or persons designated to watch over their daily activities

Creoles didn't just enslave Africans they also enslaved impoverished European using manipulation tactics, most of these Europeans became freed people before African Americans and at some point we're given their own slaves which kept them from revolting surprisingly but in surprisingly. Creoles enslaved Cajuns when they first got to Louisiana by order of the king and then freed them when they realized they knew how to farm but gave them their own enslaved persons.

Most Creoles now are African Americans and lead an intricate culture different from Cajun culture that is mainly a mix of French and various African cultures with a little bit of Spanish culture as well.

Creole food and Cajun food aren't too different but some Cajun food has okra bases as to where creole dishes have a tomato base for most dishes as it was an over abundant resource of the New Orleans area.

Cajun people are from a French group of settlers that were originally supposed to create their own nation in Nova Scotia, Canada. They were a bunch of farmers sent there for the purpose of creating an agricultural specific nation using Canadian soil and plants.

Their county was called Acadia and they were called the Acadian people, they technically were not ruled by the king of France and were their own nation, this in fact caused problems especially because they were a young nation and were composed of farmers with no military or combat training and little to no weapons.

With no support from the king or way to form their own military, England forced them to pledge allegiance to rather the king of England or the king of France so they knew where Acadia stood, Acadia asked for help from France, France refused because they were their own nation and they didn't want to pledge allegiance to the king of England

So in true English fashion they burned the nation of Acadia to the ground and forced the Acadian people to leave, the Acadians went to Louisiana in hopes that they would help, the Creoles enslaved them and stuck them where they believed the land was uninhabitable and they would perish because of the order of the king of France

The Acadians being farmers were able to pick up on how to properly farm the land after being shown by natives (my tribe yay) and when the Creoles checked on them and found them alive the king of France made them free people's and gave them land from Acadiana, their new area of living in Louisiana to the what is now the lafourche parish area.

They were given enslaved persons and were put in charge of helping make Louisiana's exports a larger market. Cajun culture and dishes come from a mixture of Acadian, native American and African culture put together with the resources of the area, these dishes spread to the Creoles and were changed to match the resources of the New Orleans area and imported goods.

Cajuns are called Cajuns because the English misheard the name Acadian and so everyone started calling them Cajuns.

Cajun and Creole today doesn't nearly have as many connotations as the past, it mainly just means your family is from this Acadiana area or from New Orleans and you're a descendent of one of these groups

Do Cajuns and Creoles have beef with each other?

Nope, any beefing is mainly joking, and is specifically about the differences in the same dishes between the two cultures.

Does it matter if someone is Cajun or Creole?

Once again nope, Louisiana is a big mixing pot of cultures so no one really cares, everyone loves celebrating the different cultures in Louisiana especially of the newer groups that have joined over the decades through immigration.

I only specified with Alastor because I've seen people call him Cajun when vivzy has stated multiple times that he's Creole.

Enough about Cajuns here's some info on Mardi Gras:

Mardi Gras is one day at the end of the carnival season.

It's on a different day each year because it is a Catholic holiday and goes by the Catholic calendar which changes every year.

Mardi Gras means "fat Tuesday" which is the Catholic holiday the day before ash Wednesday which is a day of fasting and sobriety.

You don't have to be Catholic to celebrate.

Even though it's a Catholic holiday all of the parades are based on Greek and Egyptian mythology

The carnival season is different every year and lasts between 1-2 months before Mardi Gras day, Brazil has a similar celebration at the same time called carnival as well for the same reason.

The carnival season is typically in January- February or March.

All bars close at midnight on Mardi Gras day once it hits ash Wednesday and very few of them are open on ash Wednesday later in the day.

There are family friendly Mardi Gras parades which are most of them and specific parades for adults, typically at night, please don't flash your boobs that's illegal and makes people uncomfortable, the adult parades mean that they might give out alcohol and beads or other float throws that will contain adult symbols like marijuana or nudity. Some of these they throw things like purses and shoes and that's why it's classified as adult.

Anyone can join the parade even people not from New Orleans you just have to pay a fee for whichever parade you want to be in to secure a spot on a float and buy the beads and stuff that you throw, some parade you have to have a specific amount of items, to be allowed on the float

Some people go to other parades to get beads and other stuff for them to throw at their own parades (my family does this with the radio station vans lol)

People on floats throw beads, plushies, party favors, hand clappers, cups, dablooms , recorders and other plastic instruments, bouncy balls, other types of balls, inflatables, candy, chips , ramen, hair clips, plastic swords and plastic tomahawks

Most of the balls for specific parades are closed events for people on the committee but there are masquerade and non masquerade balls and parties held across the city throughout the carnival season, there is even one specifically for Neuro divergent people.

There is a kink parade, that is called "southern decadence" it is a gay pride parade that focuses on sex, kinks, drag burlesque and finding people to hook up with this happens typically around august. If you tell people your going to a gay pride parade they will side eye you because they assume it's this one and not the family friendly ones that happen in June.

The only other parades outside of carnival season and pride are a Christmas parade (krampus), a Halloween parade and st Patrick's Day parade (Irish and Italian American heritage parade)

A king cake is basically a cinnamon roll log that doesn't get cut into individual cinnamon rolls and gets formed into a ring and baked then has vanilla icing with colored sugar on top. There is a baby inside but if you pre order it you can ask for the baby to be put on the side or not included at all. The baby means you buy the next king cake and you will have luck.

It's encouraged to wear costumes to parades but you don't have to, it does get you more beads.

Have a bag or something to put your beads in if you wear them throughout the parade it will be painful and it will get you less stuff thrown at you.

Other random things about Louisiana I think are important:

It's warm throughout the year because this is a sub tropical area, in the summer it is constantly between 89°-115° please don't put characters in long sleeves or tons of layers in the summer.

It rains a lot like 50% of the year it rains

Not every part of Louisiana is swamp

There is no deep woods of massive swamps in the middle of the city of New Orleans, there are a few in the surrounding area but those are an hour -hour and a half out of your way by car at minimum

Hoodoo is magic , voodoo is a religion they are connected but not the same thing not everyone that practices voodoo practices hoodoo and vice versa. PLEASE DON'T MESS WITH THESE RELIGIOUS OR MAGICAL ARTIFACTS WITHOUT SOME WORKING KNOWLEDGE OF IT OR CONSENT/ PERMISSIONS, PLEASE FOLLOW THE RULES IN THE SHOPS.

There are also many practicing pagans and wiccans in New Orleans same rules apply.

Yes there are second lines (marching bands for parties) constantly going through the city but most of them are for funerals don't join them unless you're told you can.

Most people from Louisiana have pretty bad seasonal allergies

There is way more to the city of New Orleans then the French quarter, the French quarter is only like 10 streets

We have a ferry that goes from Algiers (west bank New Orleans) to New Orleans proper (east bank, actually main part to the city) it lets out at the aquarium. There is another one that goes from Algiers to Chalmette (part of the greater New Orleans area)

The greater New Orleans area is the area around New Orleans where most of the people that work and hangout in New Orleans actually live, this includes Jefferson parish and st. Bernard parish. There is still a high population of people who live in the city itself.

Baton Rouge is the capital of Louisiana it is about an hour and a half west of New Orleans by car

People go to Grand Isle, Louisiana or to Biloxi, Mississippi to go to the beach

There is a water park outside of Baton Rouge called blue bayou that's really popular the other water park in the area is Jellystone but most people call it yogi bear because it's a yogi bear theme park

Fairs happen in Louisiana between May - June and then again in September - October

Around Christmas most parks have Christmas lights displays that you can drive or walk through or Christmas villages

People actually play jazz music on street corners in New Orleans, it's not every street corner and most of them are concentrated to being closer to the French quarter

Most bars have a mixture of live music and a dj more upscale places with stick to jazz but most other places have rock, hip hop, r&b, rap and bounce, closer to Lafayette they play zydeco more often then jazz

Louisiana is the state with the second highest gambling rate behind Nevada, there are multiple casinos in Louisiana and even private gambling clubs that you have to know someone to get into

Street cars are like busses on set rails, basically an above ground subway system. You have to pay a fee to ride and can find out the various paths that these take through the RTA (New Orleans public transportation) system or station

You can get electrocuted if you stand on the street car rails if the street car is close by and not stopped, if you see one coming towards you get off of the rails so you don't get hit it takes a little while to stop the car.

Hurricane season begins in May and ends at the beginning of November

People in New Orleans keep pet chickens and some of them just let them roam the neighborhood. So it's not uncommon to see a chicken walking around in a residential neighborhood

Some people in Louisiana have houses raised on stilts because of flooding, their are stairs to get to the house (I've had tourists ask me about this before that's why I'm mentioning it)

Yes we can tell when you're a tourist it's pretty obvious (typically it's because they try to hard to fit in or they wear beads outside of Mardi Gras and get drunk at 12 pm)

New Orleans is the largest city in Louisiana

You will find many different cultures in Louisiana not just Cajuns and Creoles because of immigration, these cultures are all very much celebrated in Louisiana

The most common non English languages spoken in New Orleans are Spanish, Vietnamese and Arabic as currently.

Here's some food from Louisiana:

A quarter of New Orleans (not the French quarter) smells like coffee because of the community coffee plant and during certain times of the year with strong winds the whole city smells like coffee

We eat red beans and rice on Monday's to honor deceased enslaved persons as they would typically eat red beans and rice once a week because they were only allowed to eat protein once a week. Not everyone knows that, I learned about this from Whitney plantation they might have information about it on their website. Not everyone eats red beans and rice every Monday or only on Monday's that's just tradition.

For creole version remember to add tomatoes

Seasoning blend is onions, red bell pepper, celery, parsley, and garlic

Jambalaya:

A dish where you cook down meat and seasoning blend and seasonings, typically the meat is chicken and sausage together then add rice and water into the pot and cook until rice is soft.

Sometimes people add cubed pork or beef, peeled shrimp, peeled crawfish, or other left over meats they have on hand.

Gumbo

A thinned brown stew with seasoning blend, at least chicken and sausage and seasonings, served over rice with fíle (a ground sassafras seasoning)

Other meats included peeled shrimp, peeled crawfish , deshelled or soft shell crab, and oysters

Cajuns sometimes add smothered okra Creoles typically add stewed / smothered tomatoes, I've seen some people add both it's up to preferences and family recipes.

Often served with potato salad

Étouffée

Peeled shrimp or peeled crawfish, seasoning and seasoning blend served in a cream shellfish flavored gravy served over rice

Sauce Piquante

Chicken, shrimp or catfish stewed in a mixture of seasoning blend, seasoning, Rotel , crushed tomatoes, diced tomatoes and tomato sauce, served over rice

One of few dishes that have no changes between Cajun and Creole recipes

Boudin

Rice dressing in a sausage casing, typically steamed or smoked

Cracklins

Extra crispy fried pork skins with some meat still attached covered in spices

Po-boy

Warm deli meats or fried seafood, sometimes in gravy on French bread (not baguettes) with mayo, lettuce and tomatoes

Sometimes has cheese, pickles or mustard typically left to customer preference on this one

Beignet

Square fried donuts covered in powdered sugar

Typically eaten with coffee, tea, hot chocolate or chocolate milk

King cakes

Cinnamon roll log made into a ring formation with vanilla icing and colored sugar on top, has a baby inside that means you buy the next king cake if you get it and good luck

Can have different fillings

Seasonal to January through March

Natchitoches meat pie

Pie dough filled with ground beef or crawfish baked into a hand held pie.

Sorry that this is so much information I hope this is helpful for people who want to write about characters from Louisiana.

Hope this helps @lifes-line sorry it's so long.

[blakeswritingimagines]

Hell's Coming With Me

Summary: There's only one way to stop the war now.

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

Word count: 8.3k

You find yourself in the Red Keep, where Aemond Targaryen, the younger son of King Viserys I, and the younger brother of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, is standing tall and imposing. His face hardened with anger as he spots you. "You dare to come here after what you've done? After you betrayed my family?" He snarls, his dragon-like features becoming more pronounced as his rage builds. "I should kill you where you stand for your treachery! But instead…" Aemond's eyes gleam dangerously, "…you will earn your keep by telling me everything that has transpired since we last met. And if you lie or withhold information, so help me, I'll have your tongue. Now speak!" Your gaze does not falter at Aemond's threats. Instead, you lift your chin and meet his blazing eyes with an icy composure. As he demands answers, you respond with a voice laced with cold conviction. You stare back into Aemond's eye with your unwavering gaze, you do not back down nor shame away from his threat. "Do not think I fear you or your threats, kinslayer. I will speak, but only if you promise to listen and hear my words without blind rage and anger. A skill you don't seem to have mastered yet. You speak of betrayal, Aemond as if your own actions have not been those of a turncoat. But very well, I will indulge your curiosity. Since our last meeting, I have done what I must, to protect my claim and my loved ones."

His nostrils flare as he takes in your defiant stance, the audacity of your words stoking the fire of his anger. He clenches his fists, the knuckles whitening under the strain of holding himself back from leaping across the room to strangle the life out of this woman who dared to call him a kinslayer. "Your words are bold, but they're empty," he growls, his teeth grinding together in frustration. "You've betrayed us all for your own selfish ambitions. But know this, I won't let you get away with it. I'm going to make you pay for what you've done." Aemond's gaze darkens, his eyes reflecting the fury burning within him. He steps closer, looming over you as he continues to threaten you, promising retribution for your perceived betrayal. Your eyes blaze with defiance as you match Aemond's gaze. You refuse to be intimidated by his towering figure or his threats. Your voice remains calm and firm as you meet his gaze with unwavering determination. "You speak of ambition, Aemond, but it was you and your family who were willing to put my family and me in danger in order to secure the throne. Are you so blind to your own actions that you cannot see? You speak of betrayal, yet it was you who turned on us first." Your words cut through the air like a knife.

The corner of Aemond's mouth twitches as he fights to maintain control, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath he takes. The sheer audacity of your accusations sends a surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins, fueling the flames of his wrath. "I didn't betray anyone!" he roars, his voice echoing throughout the hall. "It was you who started this war. You and your scheming mother!" Aemond lunges forward, grabbing hold of your arm in a vice-like grip. His other hand balls into a fist, ready to strike. As Aemond grabs your arm, your instincts kick in, and with a swift movement, you twist your body out of his grip. Your heart races with a mixture of fear and determination, you take a step back, your eyes fixed on Aemond's menacing form, ready to defend yourself. "So it all comes down to this again, Aemond? You resorting to violence when you can't win an argument. Is this the kind of ruler you aspire to be - one who can't handle dissent or differing opinions? This is why I will make a better Queen than you ever will be."

Rhaenyra and Alicent burst into the room, their eyes widening in shock as they see Aemond attempting to strike you. Rhaenyra immediately steps forward, placing herself between you and Aemond. "Stop this nonsense at once, Aemond," Rhaenyra demands firmly, her eyes locked on her half-brother. His other hand uncurls from its fist, but only to point an accusing finger at his sister. "Don't interfere, Rhaenyra," he spits out, his voice dripping with venom. "This is none of your concern anymore. You chose sides long ago." He turns his attention back to you, ignoring Rhaenyra and his mother completely. "Admit it. Admit that you're working with them. That you're just another one of their puppets." Aemond's eyes flash dangerously as he waits for your response, completely oblivious to the tension building in the room. Despite the precarious situation, you hold your head up high, your gaze locked on Aemond's intense stare. You refuse to back down, your voice steady and determined. "I serve no one's agenda but my own, Aemond. Unlike you, I don't blindly follow the whims of my parents and the council. I am my own person, with my own ambitions and desires. I do not answer to them, and I sure as hell don't answer to you either."

Rhaenyra and Alicent glance at each other, a silent understanding passing between them as they step closer to you and Aemond. With a mixture of frustration and resignation, Rhaenyra speaks calmly, trying to diffuse the situation. "It was decided that both of you will marry," she says, her voice firm yet measured. "It is not a matter of discussion or choice. You will both be tied together by matrimony." Aemond's eyes narrow suspiciously as he looks at Rhaenyra, then his mother, and finally back to you. Stepping back slightly as he contemplates Rhaenyra's words. "So that's your plan, is it?" he sneers, a dangerous edge to his voice. "Force me into marriage with this traitor?" He glares at you, suspicion evident in his gaze. "Why should I trust any of you? You've all lied and schemed to get what you want. Don't think I'm going to fall for your tricks now." Aemond crosses his arms over his chest, his posture rigid with hostility.

Alicent places a hand on her son's shoulder, her touch gentle but firm. She meets Aemond's gaze with a calm yet authoritative expression. "This is not about trust, Aemond," Alicent replies quietly, her voice tinged with a hint of exhaustion. "This is about family. This marriage will strengthen our alliance and ensure the stability of our house. It's our duty to the realm, and to our families, to make this sacrifice." Rhaenyra nods in agreement with Alicent, her expression softening for a moment as she adds her own thoughts. "This marriage is not just a political union, Aemond. It's an opportunity for us all to put aside our differences and come together as a family. The war has caused enough suffering and division. We can end it now, by making this sacrifice." She looks between you two, her eyes pleading for understanding. Aemond's gaze flickers between Alicent and Rhaenyra, his face unreadable. After a moment of silence, he gives a curt nod, conceding defeat for now. "Fine," he grumbles, his tone begrudging. "I'll do it…for the sake of the realm." But despite his outward acceptance, there's a simmering resentment in his eyes. He may have agreed to the marriage, but he certainly hasn't forgotten - or forgiven - any of the wrongdoings committed against him.

As the wedding day draws near, the mood within the castle is a strange combination of excitement and anticipation. The halls buzz with talks of the royal wedding, which will unite two powerful families in an unlikely union. The bride and groom-to-be, you and Aemond, have spent weeks getting ready for the special event. The castle has been adorned with colorful banners and fresh flowers. The air is filled with the scent of blossoming roses, and the distant sound of minstrels practicing their instruments fills the air. As the months pass, preparations for the royal wedding begin in earnest. The Red Keep buzzes with activity as servants and courtiers scurry back and forth, ensuring that everything is in place for the grand event. You, meanwhile, find yourself caught up in the whirlwind of preparations, torn between the anticipation of your upcoming nuptials and the weight of the responsibilities that will come with your new role. As the day of the wedding approaches, Aemond can't help but feel a strange mix of emotions. There's excitement, yes, but also unease. He knows this union isn't one born of love or even mutual respect. It's a political necessity, a pragmatic solution to a complicated problem.

Despite his reservations, he does his best to play the part of the dutiful groom-to-be. He attends countless meetings and rehearsals, tolerating the endless discussions about seating arrangements and flower arrangements. But beneath his composed exterior, a storm of feelings brews, churning up memories of past betrayals and present uncertainties. Aemond stands outside the Septon's Hall, staring off into the distance as he prepares to enter the room where his fate - and yours - will be sealed. Despite his outward appearance of calm indifference, inside he is seething with rage and disgust. He had never wanted this, never wanted you, and yet here he was, about to become your husband. With a heavy sigh, he pushes open the door and steps inside, his eyes scanning the room until they land on you. There you stood, looking more beautiful than ever in your white silk gown, your hair coiffed into intricate braids adorned with fresh flowers. For a moment, he almost forgets why he hates you. But then he remembers your betrayal and the hatred resurfaces.

You stood in a simple yet elegant white dress, the fabric flowing around your figure like water. A small crown of flowers rests atop your head, their vibrant colors adding a touch of warmth to your cool demeanor. As Aemond enters the room, your eyes meet him, and a mixture of emotions flickers across your face. Despite the tension between you, there is a sense of resignation in your eyes, a feeling that you have reluctantly accepted your fate. But your gaze remains steady as you stand tall, facing him without an ounce of fear. As the ceremony begins, Aemond can't help but feel a mixture of revulsion and resignation. He repeats the traditional vows in a flat, monotone voice, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of hatred and resentment towards you. Your voice, on the other hand, is soft and clear, your words spoken with earnestness and determination. When it's time to say the seven sacred pledges, Aemond glares at you with venom in his eyes, his lips curling into a sneer. But you hold your gaze, refusing to show any sign of weakness or hesitation.

As the vows are exchanged, Aemond's heart feels like lead in his chest. Each word that leaves his lips tastes like ash in his mouth. But he forces himself to continue, knowing that this is what must be done. His gaze remains fixed on you, watching as you speak your vows with sincerity and conviction. The sight makes him sick to his stomach. Yet, he knows that he too must give his all, if only to save face in front of all loved ones. So, he swallows down his hatred and bitterness, replacing it with a mask of compliance. And when the final vow is made, he feels nothing but relief. Aemond grits his teeth as he utters the final vow, his voice barely above a whisper. The very thought of being bound to you in this way fills him with loathing. As the High Septon declares them wed, Aemond can't suppress the bitter laugh that escapes his throat. 'So this is how it ends,' he thinks to himself, a twisted sense of irony tainting his dark humor. You stood next to Aemond, your palms sweating and your heart pounding with a mixture of nerves and anticipation. Despite the uncertainty of the situation, you force yourself to hold your head high and maintain a façade of composure. Inside, however, your mind is racing with thoughts and feelings that you can't quite untangle. As the high Septon declares you both man and wife, you gaze up at Aemond, your eyes searching for any hint of warmth or affection, but all you find is his cold, indifferent gaze.

After the ceremony, the reception begins. Aemond finds himself in the crowded ballroom, surrounded by nobles and courtiers congratulating him on his new union. He forces a fake smile onto his face, nodding stiffly in response to their well-wishes. All the while, his eyes dart around the room, searching for you. He needs to get away from all these people, to find a moment of peace before he has to pretend for the rest of the night. Meanwhile, you were stuck talking to a group of ladies-in-waiting, exchanging hollow pleasantries, and discussing the latest court gossip. However, you can't help but feel suffocated by the small talk and false smiles. After making your excuses, you slip away from the group and disappear into the crowd. Aemond watches as you slip away from the group, a grim smile playing on his lips. He knew exactly where you'd go; after all, it was one of the few places he avoided himself. Quietly, he makes his way through the crowd, heading towards the same secluded garden where he knew he would find you alone. When he reaches the arched trellis covered in vines of climbing roses, he stops, his gaze trained on your silhouette bathed in moonlight. "Well, look who decided to join me," he drawls, crossing his arms over his chest.

You turned at the sound of his voice, your eyes meeting his piercing gaze. A jolt of surprise courses through you, but you quickly regain your composure and straighten your shoulders, refusing to show any hint of emotion. "I didn't come here for you," you reply coolly, your voice steady and determined. "I came here because I needed a moment of peace from all the insufferable chatter in there." Aemond narrows his eyes, studying you closely. He can see the tension in your body, the stubborn resolve in your eyes. But he also notices something else, something softer beneath the surface. "You're doing a good job pretending you don't care," he says, his tone laced with sarcasm. "But don't fool yourself. You might hate me too, but we are married now…and we will have to learn to live with each other….."Run all you like, my lady. But you are mine now, and there's no escape."

You bite your lip hard, the sharpness of his words cutting deep. You wanted to retort, to spit back a scathing response, but the weight of his words sinks in. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. "I am not yours," you retort, your voice firm and resolute. "And I never will be. We might be married, but our hearts and minds will always remain our own. I will tolerate you because I have to, but do not mistake tolerance for affection." Aemond laughs a harsh, bitter sound that echoes through the quiet garden. His eyes flash dangerously as he steps closer to you, his tall frame looming over yours. "Oh, how delightful," he spits out, his voice dripping with scorn. "You expect me to believe that you've consented to this marriage solely for the sake of the realm? That you don't feel even a shred of fear or dread at the prospect of sharing my bed?" His gaze drops down to your lips, lingering there for a moment before he continues, "Do you think I'm so easily fooled?" You stiffen, goosebumps pricking at your skin as he draws closer. You refuse to let him see your fear, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and defiance. "Is it not enough that I've agreed to tie myself to you for the sake of our families? Do you expect me to be giddy with excitement at the prospect of bearing your children?" You hold his gaze firmly, refusing to back down. "I am not your property, Aemond. And I never will be."

Aemond grinds his teeth together, a muscle ticking in his jaw. The sight of you standing defiantly before him only serves to fuel his anger. 'How dare you speak to him in such a manner? Who did you think you were?' "Do not presume to dictate the terms of our relationship," he growls, stepping even closer until you are mere inches apart. "We are wed now, whether you like it or not. And if you refuse to cooperate, I assure you, things will be far more unpleasant for you." His hands clench into fists at his sides, his knuckles turning white under the strain. You lift your chin defiantly, refusing to be intimidated. "I am not a child, Aemond. I may be forced to suffer your touch and endure your company, but do not mistake that for submission or acceptance. I will never be your faithful little wife."

Aemond's eyes narrow, his face contorting into a snarl. The raw hatred in his gaze is palpable, his fury barely contained. "So be it," he seethes, taking another step forward until you are practically touching. "If you insist on playing the defiant maiden, then know that I will make your life a living hell. Your days of freedom are numbered." Your breath hitches in your throat, your heart pounding in your chest. His words send a shiver down your spine, the venom in his voice making your stomach churn. "Is that a threat? Or a promise?" You ask, your voice trembling slightly. "Because I assure you, Aemond, that I will not be cowed by your petty threats. I am not some damsel in distress, waiting to be rescued. I am a dragonrider, and I am not afraid of you." Aemond's expression hardens, his icy lilac eye reflecting the cold, unyielding stone of the castle walls. He studies your face, taking in every flinch, every tremble, every flicker of fear in your eyes. "So be it," he finally murmurs, his voice low and dangerous. "We shall see who breaks first."

The days pass with a tedious routine. Aemond and you have an unspoken agreement: you keep out of each other's way, each avoiding the other whenever possible. Aemond spends his days training and strategizing, while you engross yourself in your books or spend time with your friends. The only moments you do speak to each other are brief and polite, both of you keeping up appearances in public but keeping a respectful distance in private. Aemond strides into the Great Hall, his boots clicking against the marble floor. He scans the room, his gaze landing on you seated at the high table. Your beauty catches him off guard, and a sudden rush of heat surges through him. It's been weeks since the wedding day and yet he still finds himself unable to shake the image of you from his mind. He approaches you, his strides confident and purposeful. His hand gently grasps your wrist, pulling you close. "Tonight, you're to accompany me to the feast," he whispers into your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

You stiffen at his touch, your skin hot under his fingers. "I assume that's not a request," you mutter through gritted teeth, your voice laced with irritation. You glance up at him, your expression impassive, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing that his touch affects you. A smirk tugs at the corner of Aemond's mouth, his eyes gleaming with amusement. He pulls away, crossing his arms over his chest. "Correct," he replies, his voice low and firm. "It would be wise for you to remember that." You scoff, rolling your eyes at his arrogant demeanor. "Of course, My Lord," you reply, your tone dripping with thinly veiled sarcasm. "Because heaven forbid I refuse to be at your beck and call." You let out an audible sigh, your patience already wearing thin. "Very well," you respond, your tone laced with resignation. You adjust the loose braid over your shoulder and meet his gaze with a defiant lift of your chin. "But don't expect me to pretend to be happy about it."

Aemond smirks, amused by your feistiness. Despite your protests, he can't help but find your spirit alluring. You were unlike any woman he'd ever met, and he found himself strangely drawn to you. "As long as you understand that I won't tolerate any more of your insolence," he warns, his voice dropping to a low growl. "Tonight, you will behave like the royal you are, or face the consequences." You raise an eyebrow at his warning, your expression defiant as ever. "In case you've forgotten, I'm not some common wench to be ordered around," you retort, your voice laced with sarcasm. "And I will not bow to your every command like some mindless sycophant. So, if you expect me to behave like a 'royal,' you can forget it." Aemond's lips curl into a frown, his eyes narrowing dangerously. He steps closer, invading your personal space. His voice drops to a whisper, his words carrying the weight of a deadly threat. "You forget yourself," he growls, his eyes burning with a cold, fiery intensity. "You are my wife now, and I will not tolerate any further insubordination. You will learn to respect me, or you will regret it."

You hold his gaze, your own eyes flashing with defiance and fear. You try to mask the flicker of anxiety that flits through your expression, refusing to let him see how his nearness affects you. "Is that a threat, Your Grace?" you reply, your voice steady, though your heart hammers in your chest. You lift your chin defiantly, refusing to back down. "Because let me assure you, the only thing I regret is agreeing to this miserable union." Aemond's eyes darken, his jaw tightening as he fights to maintain control. His voice lowers even further, becoming a chilling whisper. "It most certainly is a threat," he seethes, his grip tightening around your wrist. "And one you would be wise to heed, my dear wife." His eyes flicker towards the nearest window, the moonlight casting eerie shadows across his face. He leans in closer, his hot breath washing over you. "I hope you're prepared for what comes next because once I'm done with you, there'll be no turning back."

The Great Hall is packed from wall to wall with guests celebrating yet another lavish feast. Servants weave through the crowd, bearing trays of food and wine. You sit beside Aemond, dressed in a deep red gown, your hair loose and free, flowing down your back. You remain silent, your eyes scanning the room blankly as you sip your wine. Aemond observes you quietly, taking in the way you hold yourself and the defiant expression on your face. Aemond watches you from the corner of his eye, studying your reactions. His gaze lingers on your delicate profile, the soft curve of your cheek, the fullness of your lips. He can feel the tension between you, a palpable energy that hums beneath the surface. He reaches out, his hand brushing against yours, causing you to jump slightly. He withdraws his hand quickly, not wanting to draw attention to the interaction. "Are you enjoying the feast?" he asks casually, trying to engage you in conversation. Your eyes flicker to his hand, then back up to his face. Your heart skips a beat at the brief contact, but you immediately push the feeling away, replacing it with your usual defiant expression. "As much as I can, considering I'd rather be anywhere else," you reply, your voice cold and distant as you take another sip of your wine.

Aemond watches you closely, his gaze intense and probing. He feels a pang of frustration at your aloofness, your refusal to bend to his will. He knows he must tread carefully. "Regardless, I am glad you decided to join me tonight," he says, his voice holding a hint of sincerity. "You look… lovely." Your eyes narrow at his compliment, your guard immediately going up at the unexpected compliment. You glance down at yourself, then back up at him, your expression skeptical. "Spare me the sweet talk, Aemond," you respond with a roll of your eyes. You take another sip of your wine, your gaze fixed on the crowded hall. "We both know this is nothing more than a forced performance for the sake of appearances." Aemond clenches his jaw, his gaze hardening. He can't deny your accusation; the marriage is indeed a political arrangement. But despite that, he can't shake off the desire to make you his. "If that is how you wish to perceive our situation, so be it," he replies, his voice icy and controlled. "However, do not mistake my efforts to keep you safe and respected as mere pretense."

You meet his gaze, your eyes narrowing slightly at his words. "Keeping me safe and respected?" you repeat, your voice filled with disbelief. You set your wine goblet down on the table with a thud, your hand trembling slightly. "You dare to speak of safety and respect after everything you've done to me? You've forced me into this marriage, held me captive in this castle, and now you expect me to believe you're some kind of benevolent protector?" Aemond grits his teeth, his hands clenching into fists under the table. He knows he should have anticipated this reaction, but your words still sting. Aemond stares at you, his eyes darkening with anger. The room seems to close in around him, the laughter and chatter of the guests fading into insignificance. He had thought he could maintain a semblance of civility, but your constant defiance was pushing him to his limits. "Do not test my patience," he warns, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I may have agreed to protect you, but I am not without my own needs. And I warn you, if you continue to resist me, you might just find yourself facing the true extent of my power." He pauses, taking a deep breath before continuing. "In time, perhaps you might come to understand that I am not the monster you believe me to be."

Your heart hammers in your chest, your breaths coming in short, shallow bursts as you stare back at him. Fear dances across your face, but it is quickly replaced by defiance. "And what would that take Your Grace?" you retort, your voice trembling slightly despite your attempt to remain strong. "For me to see beyond your cruel and controlling demeanor? For me to accept your rule without question, to submit to you and bow down before you like some mindless puppet?" Aemond's nostrils flare, his eyes blazing with fury. He clenches his fists, the knuckles whitening under the strain. He wants to lash out, to show you who is truly in charge here. But he knows he must maintain some level of restraint, at least for now. "I did not ask for your opinion, nor do I require your acceptance," he snarls, his voice echoing menacingly throughout the room. "But know this. If you continue to defy me, I will ensure that you come to understand exactly who holds the power in this castle." You swallow heavily, your own temper flaring as you straighten up in your seat to look him directly in the eye. "And what, pray tell, would you have me do? Shall I follow you like a docile little lamb, fawning over your every command? You may hold the power in these halls, Aemond Targaryen, but you will not break me. I will not be your puppet, nor your obedient little wife."

Aemond's eyes flash dangerously, his temper barely contained. He rises abruptly from his seat, towering over you. His hand tightens into a fist, the veins in his neck pulsating with the force of his rage. "You are treading on very thin ice," he growls, his voice low and threatening. "Your defiance will only lead to your downfall." Aemond's face twists into a scowl, his eyes burning with barely restrained rage. He can hardly believe your audacity, your blatant disrespect for his authority. But he reminds himself that you are young, inexperienced, and easily manipulated. "You are correct," he seethes, his voice dripping with venom. "I will not break you. Instead, I shall teach you your place, and remind you that disobedience comes with consequences." With that, he turns on his heel and strides away from the table, leaving you alone amidst the crowd of feasting guests. You watch him go, your chest heaving with each ragged breath. Your heart races in your chest, a mixture of fear and anger coursing through you. "Arrogant bastard," you mutter under your breath, gripping your hands tightly in your lap. "And an overly dramatic one, too." You sit quietly for a few moments, trying to calm your racing heart. Your hands tremble slightly as you reach for your goblet of wine. You take a large mouthful, swallowing it down quickly and wishing it was something stronger.

Aemond stalks away from the table, his long strides carrying him swiftly toward the entrance of the great hall. His blood boils with anger, his heart pounding in his chest. He can still feel the heat of your defiant gaze seared into his skin, and it only fuels his fury further. Reaching the entrance, he steps outside onto the balcony overlooking the castle grounds. The cool night air does little to soothe his raging emotions, but he stands there nonetheless, staring out into the darkness, lost in his thoughts. You having regained your composure, decide to slip away from the festivities and seek solace in the gardens. You quietly make your exit from the feast, the noise and laughter fading as you venture into the quiet of the gardens. The cool night air and the stillness bring a sense of peace, helping to calm your rattled nerves. You walk along the cobblestone path, your footsteps cushioned by the grass, your thoughts consumed by the events of the evening. The image of Aemond, his expression twisted with anger and rage, lingers in your mind, causing your stomach to churn uncomfortably.

Aemond remains on the balcony, his thoughts consumed by the encounter with you. His initial intention was to let you stew in your anger, to teach you a lesson about crossing him. But as he stood there, alone in the night, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret. He knew he had been harsh, perhaps too harsh. But damn it all, you tested his patience like no other. He had never met anyone quite like you - stubborn, headstrong, and defiant. Yet, he found himself inexplicably drawn to you. With a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair and turned back towards the great hall, ready to return and face whatever challenges awaited him. You had found a quiet spot in the gardens, away from the noise and hustle of the castle. You sat on a stone bench, the chill of the night air nipping at your skin. Your heart had finally slowed to a normal rhythm, and the anger and fear faded into a dull throb. You looked up at the sky, the stars sparkling like diamonds in the inky blackness. A feeling of peace washes over you, the garden providing a peaceful escape from the tumultuous emotions of the evening.

Aemond reenters the great hall, and his earlier anger somewhat subsides. He moves through the crowd with a practiced ease, exchanging pleasantries and maintaining the facade of a gracious host. Despite his efforts, his mind keeps wandering back to you, and the defiance in your eyes. His curiosity gets the better of him, and he finds himself making his way towards the gardens. He has no clear plan or purpose, merely a desire to see you again, to gauge your reaction to the earlier confrontation. You continue to sit in the garden, your thoughts a tangled mess of emotions. The quiet ambiance of the gardens helps to soothe your frayed nerves, the sounds of crickets and soft rustling leaves providing calming background music. As you sit there, deep in thought, you sense someone approaching. Your heart rate quickens, wondering if it's Aemond. You turn to look, your eyes widening slightly as you see him walking towards you. Aemond walks into the gardens, his movements silent and stealthy. As he approaches the bench where you sit, he stops suddenly, taken aback by your beauty. The moonlight casts a silvery glow on your face, accentuating the delicate curves of your features. "Forgive me for disturbing your solitude," he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I could not help but notice your absence from the feast. It seemed…unusual." He takes a step closer, his gaze fixed on you.

Your heart skips a beat as he approaches, his voice breaking the quiet serenity of the garden. You turn your gaze up to him, his presence so close that you can nearly feel the heat radiating from his body. Your guard goes up immediately, your shoulders tensing involuntarily. You force yourself to stay calm, to not let him see how his presence affects you. "I needed some time away from the noise and commotion of the feast," you replied, your voice betraying none of the emotions swirling inside you. Aemond studies you closely, taking note of the subtle changes in your demeanor. There is a certain tension in the air between you, a palpable energy that he finds both intriguing and intoxicating. "It seems we share a similar sentiment," he murmurs, stepping closer until you're mere inches apart. "The noise of the feast can become tiresome after a while." He gazes deeply into your eyes, his own dark and intense. You can feel the intensity of his gaze, the proximity of your bodies causing a shiver to run down your spine. You tilt your head up to look at him, refusing to back down despite the nervous flutter in your stomach. Your pulse quickens under his scrutiny, but you force yourself to remain calm and composed. "Yes, it can be quite overwhelming," you agree, your voice steady despite the fluttering of your heart. "Sometimes, a little solitude is necessary to clear one's head."

Aemond notices the flicker of defiance in your eyes, the stubborn set of your jaw. He admires your strength, your refusal to bow down to his authority. It was refreshing, unlike most of the women he encountered who were either fawning or fearful. "You are unlike any woman I have ever met," he admits, his voice low and gruff. "Your spirit is fierce, your determination unyielding." His gaze drops to your lips, then returns to meet your eyes. Your breath catches in your chest as he speaks, his words sending a jolt of electricity through you. You feel a surge of pride at his praise, but quickly stomp it down, reminding yourself not to give him the satisfaction of knowing how his words affect you. You lift your chin, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. You can feel the heat of his gaze as he looks at your lips, but stubbornly refuses to allow it to show on your face. You keep your expression neutral, despite the rapid thrumming of your heart. "Is that a compliment or a complaint?"

Aemond smirks, amused by your feistiness. He leans in even closer, his face just inches from yours. The heat emanating from his body is almost unbearable, yet you don't move away. "A compliment, always a compliment," he whispers, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. "It would do you well to remember that." You resist the urge to close the gap between you two, your body betraying your will. The sound of his voice, so close to your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You swallow hard, your throat suddenly parched. Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself, forcing your voice to remain steady as you respond. "And what if I choose not to remember?" A wicked grin spreads across Aemond's face, his smirk revealing a hint of danger. He enjoys this game, the dance of power and dominance between you. It excites him and stirs something within him that he hadn't felt before. "If you choose not to remember, my lady, I will simply have to remind you," he purrs, his tone laced with a dangerous promise. Your heart pounds in your chest, the sound echoing loudly in your ears. Your body is hyper-aware of his proximity, the heat from his body seeping into your own. Despite your best efforts to remain calm and collected, you can't help but shiver involuntarily at his words. Taking a deep breath, you lift your chin defiantly, holding his gaze unflinchingly. "Oh, I dare you to try."

Aemond chuckles softly, finding amusement in your daring challenge. His eyes gleam with an unholy light, a predator recognizing another predator. This was more fun than he had anticipated, more thrilling than anything he'd experienced in a long time. "Very well, my lady," he murmurs, his voice a seductive purr. "Consider yourself reminded." Your heart races, your pulse thrumming in your veins. Your body is a jumble of conflicting emotions - fear, excitement, intrigue. You bite your lip, your mind warring between the desire to push him away and the inexplicable attraction you feel towards him. "And what exactly are you going to remind me of, Your Grace?" you say, your voice coming out a little too breathless to sound as defiant as you would like. A devilish smile curls the corners of Aemond's lips as he hears the slight hitch in your voice. He steps even closer, his body almost touching yours. He can smell your scent, sweet and alluring. It sends a wave of desire coursing through him. "That you belong to me," he murmurs, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "That every inch of you is mine to claim."

Your breath hitched in your chest, your heartbeat quickening at his words. The intensity in his eyes and the possessiveness in his voice sent a shiver down your spine. But despite the powerful attraction you feel towards him, you're also intensely irritated by his blatant disregard for your autonomy. "I don't belong to anyone," you say, your voice trembling slightly, despite your best efforts to keep it steady. "And you don't own me." Aemond scoffs, his eyes flashing with irritation at your defiance. Yet, there is a spark of admiration in his gaze as well. He respects your spirit, your unwillingness to bend to his will without a fight. "Do you really believe that my lady?" he asks, his voice a soft rumble. "You may think you're strong enough to resist me, but I assure you, resistance is futile." Your frustration mounts, your temper flaring at his arrogant confidence. The fact that he sees you as a mere object to be claimed, despite your protests, drives you to snap. "You're such an arrogant prick," you hissed, your voice laced with anger and frustration. "You think just because you're the Prince, you have the right to possess anything and anyone you desire, regardless of their desires or feelings."

Aemond narrows his eyes at your harsh words, a dark scowl crossing his face. He doesn't like being challenged, especially not by someone he considers beneath him. But he also can't deny the thrill that runs through him when you stand up to him, the spark of defiance in your eyes igniting a fire within him. "Watch your tongue, my lady," he growls, his voice a low, threatening rumble. "Or I might just decide to teach you a lesson you'll never forget." Your eyes flash defiantly, the anger coursing through your veins making you bold. You step closer to him, your bodies almost touching now. "You think threats will make me submit to you? You think I'll bow down and give in because of your status and authority?" you hiss, your voice trembling with rage. "I'll sooner die than submit to someone like you." A flicker of surprise crosses Aemond's face at your boldness. Most people cower under his intense gaze and commanding presence, but you seemed unaffected. If anything, you appeared more determined, more defiant. "Well then," he says, his voice low and deadly, "perhaps we should see just how far you're willing to go." Your heart races, adrenaline coursing through your veins. You stand your ground, refusing to back down despite the danger in his voice. "Bring it on, Your Grace," you challenge, your voice steady despite the fear clawing at your insides. "I'm not afraid of you."

Aemond studies you closely, his eyes scanning your face, taking in your defiant expression. There's a certain allure to your bravery, your refusal to bow down to him. It's intoxicating, and it makes him want to explore further. "So be it," he murmurs, his voice a low purr. "Let the games begin." A shiver runs through your body at the sound of his words. You can feel the danger in the air, the electricity between you crackling with tension. But you refuse to back down, no matter how your heart may be pounding in your chest. "You won't win," you retort, your voice a defiant whisper. "I won't let you." A wicked grin spreads across Aemond's face, his smirk revealing a hint of danger. He enjoys this game, the dance of power and dominance between you both. It excites him and makes him feel something within him that he hadn't felt before. "If you choose not to remember, my lady, I will simply have to remind you," he purrs, his tone laced with a dangerous promise. You clench your fists, your heart racing with adrenaline and fear. you are caught in a storm of emotions, the tension between you thick enough to be cut with a knife. Aemond's predatory gleam makes you shiver, but you refuse to let him see your fear. "Maybe it's time for you to learn the meaning of losing," you replied, your voice surprisingly defiant despite the tremors that were coursing through you.

Aemond's laughter echoes around the air, a chilling sound that sends a shudder down your spine. His eyes, full of untamed lust and dominance, never leave you. "Oh, I don't lose, my lady," he drawls, his voice filled with arrogance and confidence. "Remember that." Aemond's hand snakes around your waist, pulling you flush against his hard body. He lets out a low growl, his other hand tangling in your hair as he pulls your head back, exposing your neck. His teeth graze against your skin, teasing you, the sensation causing a shiver to run down your spine. "Just remember, my lady," he whispers into your ear, his voice dripping with dominance, "you started this game." A gasp escapes your lips as his hand encircles your waist, pulling you closer to him. His grip on your hair is firm but not painful. The way his teeth graze your neck, just barely touching your skin, makes your heart race with a mixture of fear and excitement. You swallow hard, your body responding to his touch despite your determination to resist him. You try to calm your rapid breathing, but it's difficult with him so close to you. "I don't lose either," you whisper fiercely.

A low chuckle rumbles from Aemond's chest, vibrating against your body. He tightens his hold on you, pulling you even closer until there's no space left between you. "Oh, I believe you, my lady," he murmurs into your ear, his voice a seductive purr. "But we shall see who truly comes out on top." Your breath hitches in your throat as he pulls you closer, his body pressing against yours. You can feel the heat radiating off him, and you fight the urge to lean into him, a combination of fear and anticipation. "Bring it on, Your Grace," you retort, your voice shaking slightly. "You might be powerful now, but you haven't seen my strength." Aemond's laughter echoes around them, a dark, menacing sound that sends chills down your spine. He tightens his grip on you, pulling you closer still. His other hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking over your jawline. "Oh, I've seen your strength, my lady," he murmurs, his voice a seductive purr. "And I can't wait to break you."

Your breath caught in your throat as his hand cups your cheek, his thumb tracing your jawline. The feeling of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, making your heart pound in your chest. You looked up at him, defiance burning in your eyes. "And I can't wait to watch you try," your voice steady despite the tremor in your hands. Aemond's eyes flash with a dangerous light, his grip on you tightening. He leans in, his lips hovering just inches away from yours, his hot breath mingling with yours. "Don't mistake my kindness for weakness, my lady," he warns, his voice a husky whisper. "Because when I'm done with you, you'll be begging for mercy." You stare up at him, a mix of fear and anticipation. You can feel his hot breath on your face, the intensity of his gaze making your stomach flip. "Save your threats, Your Grace," you say. "They won't scare me." Aemond's hand slides down from your cheek, tracing a path along your neck before moving lower. His fingers dipped beneath the neckline of your dress, his touch scorching against your skin. His other hand moves to tangle in your hair, pulling your head back further to expose your neck.

Aemond's lips crash down onto yours, his hand cradling the side of your face. His tongue invades your mouth, tasting you, asserting his dominance. His other hand travels down your body, tracing along the curve of your hip before squeezing your ass firmly. He breaks the kiss only to trail hot kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking at your sensitive skin. His hands continue their exploration, pushing under your dress to find bare skin. Caught off guard by his sudden assertiveness, you stiffen in his arms. But as his tongue explores your mouth, you find yourself melting into him, returning his kiss with a passion you didn't know you had. His touch on your body ignites a fire within you, and you can't help but press yourself closer to him. Despite your growing desire for him, you know you can't give in completely. You pull away from his kiss, panting heavily, your body trembling with need. Aemond's eyes darken with desire as he watches you, your chest rising and falling rapidly with each heavy breath you take. He trails his fingers up your thigh, inching dangerously close to your center. "Running away so soon, my lady?" he asks, a smirk playing on his lips. "I thought you were braver than that." You bite your lip, trying to suppress the moan threatening to escape your lips. You know you should pull away, and put an end to this madness, but your body betrays you, yearning for his touch. "I'm not running," you admit, your voice shaky. "Just… reminding myself of who's actually in charge here." You spoke before taking a deep breath and sat him down on the bench which didn't do much for the height difference other than how much closer you were face to face now.

A low chuckle rumbles from Aemond's chest as he watches you, his eyes filled with a predatory hunger. He slides closer to you on the bench, his body almost touching yours. "Oh, I think it's quite clear who's in charge here, my lady," he purrs, his hand moving to rest on your thigh under your dress, his fingers slowly edging towards your panties. You swallow hard as you feel his hand on your thigh, the warmth of his touch seeping through the fabric of your panties. Your heart pounds in your chest, a mix of fear and anticipation coursing through your veins. "Well then, Your Grace," you say, forcing a smirk onto your face, "I suppose it's time we find out just how submissive you can be…" A devilish grin spreads across Aemond's face as he hears your words. He leans in, pressing his hard cock against your entrance. With one powerful thrust, he buries himself inside you. "That I did, my lady…" he growls, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "And now you're going to get exactly what you deserve…"

Feeling Aemond thrust into you, you let out a sharp gasp. The sensation of being filled by him is overwhelming, both painful and pleasurable at the same time. You arch your back, your nails digging into the fabric of the bench as you try to adjust to his size. "Aemond…" you manage to whimper, "it hurts…" Aemond grunts as he feels you tighten around him, your tight walls clenching against his invading cock. He withdraws slowly, only to thrust back in deeper, filling you completely. "It's supposed to hurt, my lady," he groans, "that's how you know it's real…" Feeling Aemond's thrusts, you can't help but let out a series of soft moans. As much as you hate to admit it, there's a part of you that's starting to enjoy this. You look up at him, your eyes filled with a mixture of tears and desire. "Please… slow down…" she begs, her voice shaking. Aemond grins down at you, his thrusts slowing slightly as he relishes in the feeling of your tight pussy wrapped around his cock. He leans down, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss as he continues to fuck you senselessly.

"Don't worry, my lady," he murmurs against your lips, "we've only just begun…"

[lokiandbuckysdoll]

Waited Too Long

Pairings: Bucky x Plus-sized!Reader, Thor x Plus-sized!Reader.

Summary: You were Steve's younger sister who had a crush on his best friend, Bucky Barnes. One night, overhearing how Bucky talked about you changes your feelings toward him. 

Warnings: Angst, unrequited love/one-sided, mention of insecurity regarding weight, self-image issues, jerk bucky.

Word Count: 2.1K

A/N: Please do not hesitate to reach out if I did not properly tag a warning! Proofread by the lovely @vbecker10 Divider by @firefly-graphics

You and Steve had always been close. It was clear that Steve took his role as your big brother seriously. This protective streak became especially pronounced when it came to matters of dating and boys. You, with your radiant smile and warm personality, had always been a magnet for attention. But for Steve, it wasn’t just about who you dated; it was about ensuring you were treated with the respect and care you deserved. His protective nature was rooted in both love and a sense of responsibility. 

From a young age, Steve noticed that you were different from your peers. While you were outgoing and kind-hearted, you faced challenges that Steve often wished he could shield you from. He saw how the societal standards of beauty affected you, and he knew that you struggled with self-image. 

One afternoon, while the two of you were sitting in the living room, you confided in Steve about a boy you liked but were unsure if he would like you due to your size. Steve listened intently, his heart aching for you

“You know, Y/N,” Steve said gently, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder, “you’re amazing just the way you are. Anyone who doesn’t see that isn’t worth your time." You smiled weakly, but Steve could tell that the insecurities were still very much present. 

You, though, harbored a secret of your own. The boy you told Steve about was no other than Steve's best friend, Bucky Barnes. 

Bucky was everything you had ever wanted—kind, funny, and impossibly handsome. You were genuinely not sure if Bucky ever noticed you in the way you wished he would. The turning point of your thoughts came one night when you were unable to sleep. You decided to go to the kitchen to get something to drink. 

As you crept down the hall you overheard a conversation between Steve and Bucky. You clung to the wall, trying to make out the words. Steve leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing with a knowing look as he stared at Bucky across the table. "You know, Buck," Steve began with a teasing grin, "I've seen the way you look at Y/N. It's pretty obvious you’ve got feelings for her." Bucky caught off guard, shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his cheeks reddening slightly. "Come on, Steve, it’s not like that," he protested, trying to sound nonchalant. "She's just... she's a good person, but there's no way I could date her. She's just not my type". 

Steve raised an eyebrow at that "What do you mean not your type?" he questioned hoping Bucky wouldn't say what he was thinking. Bucky swallowed before speaking "Well you know... Her size… I don't think it would work out." 

Your heart sank once you heard those words leaving his mouth. You felt like you’d been punched in the gut. You had always been self-conscious about your weight, but hearing Bucky dismiss you so coldly stung more than you could have imagined. You turned around to leave unable to hear any more ill things he would say. 

Steve’s voice was low, but there was a note of anger in it. "Bucky, that's not cool.  I don't want to hear any comments about her weight, or anything like that coming from you." Bucky's response was dismissive. "I know, man, but it’s just how I feel. It’s not going to change anything between us." Bucky met Steve’s earnest eyes, a flicker of understanding passing over his face. 

The next day you withdrew into yourself. You avoided Bucky and although you tried to maintain your usual cheerfulness, it was clear something was wrong. Steve noticed the change but respected your space. Over time as high school progressed, Steve began to notice subtle changes in your dynamic with Bucky's presence around you. 

At school, Steve saw you avoiding the places where Bucky used to be, not out of hostility, but more out of a desire to keep your distance. Bucky, on the other hand, appeared to be entangled in his own world, he was drifting away from the tight-knit circle they had once been. Steve couldn't pinpoint exactly when it happened, but the change was noticeable. T

here was a growing depth that seemed to widen with each passing week—a silent testament to an unspoken tension that neither side fully addressed. Steve couldn't help but wonder about the reasons behind this gradual estrangement, feeling a mix of concern and confusion as the familiar rhythm of their friendships began to falter. 

Before they knew it, Steve's high school graduation was already approaching. Your parents had decided to through a party. The house buzzed with the lively chatter of guests celebrating Steve's graduation, but your excitement turned to discomfort when you overheard a conversation in a quieter corner of the room. You found Steve’s girlfriend, Sharon and Dolores, huddled together their voices low but unmistakably critical.

They were discussing your weight with a snide undertone, their words sharp and dismissive. Your heart sank and just as you were about to retreat, Bucky walked in, oblivious to your presence. With a casual smirk, he made a misguided attempt at humor, saying, "Well, Y/N always had a bit of a sweet tooth, hasn’t she?" 

The comment, meant to be light-hearted, only compounded the sting of the conversation you had just overheard. The room seemed to close in around you, the joy of the evening overshadowed by the weight of the unkind remarks and Bucky’s insensitive jest.

Once Steve graduated the two of you drifted into separate lives. You went on to finish your senior year and stayed closer to home after your graduation. While Steve ended up moving to a city a few hours away for college; You kept in touch but saw each other rarely.

One summer, Steve invited you to his apartment for a weekend. It had been a while since you had spent time together, and you were excited to catch up. When you arrived, you were surprised to see Bucky there, too. He seemed different—more mature, with a depth in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. You hesitated at the doorway, unsure whether to approach or retreat, feeling the weight of unresolved feelings hang like a silent barrier.

You and Bucky found yourselves alone in a quieter corner of the room, a rare chance to catch up amidst the graduation festivities. 

“So, what have you been up to, James? " you asked, trying to keep the conversation light despite the lingering awkwardness. Bucky cleared his throat, shaking off the unease. “Not much, just working and trying to stay busy. It’s been a hectic year. How about you?”

You smiled, eyes lighting up. “I’ve been focused on my studies and trying to balance everything. It’s been challenging but rewarding. I’m thinking about grad school now.” Bucky nodded, genuinely impressed. “Wow, that’s great. You’ve grown up since I last saw you. I mean, you’re—” His gaze drifted momentarily, involuntarily wandering over your now curvier figure and the way your dress accentuated your form. 

His eyes linger down to the slight cleavage.  It took him a second to realize he was staring before he caught himself and quickly looked away, feeling a flush creep up his neck. The two of you spent a little bit more time together, talking. Bucky was attentive and considerate, for the first time, you felt like your old self.

As the summer wore on, you visited Steve more frequently and Bucky’s feelings deepened. He found himself falling for you in a way he hadn’t anticipated. He couldn't deny you were beautiful, not just in appearance but in spirit. The realization hit him hard—he had been wrong all those years ago.

Determined to make things right, Bucky planned to confess his feelings to you before summer ended. Steve had invited Bucky to come back to their hometown to celebrate your birthday. Bucky spent a week getting a perfect gift to rekindle your friendship, it was also the perfect time to confess his feelings. 

Steve and Bucky arrived at your birthday party, the atmosphere was lively and festive, filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses. Bucky’s gaze was drawn immediately to you, who stood near the center of the room, effortlessly captivating in a light lavender dress that complemented every curve. The soft fabric flowed gracefully around you and the gentle hue highlighted your radiant complexion. 

Bucky was momentarily speechless, his usual confidence faltering as he took in the sight of you. You looked stunning, your beauty was more striking than he had remembered. Steve noticed Bucky’s reaction and gave him a knowing smile but Bucky was too mesmerized to register much beyond the striking image of you in the dress.

As time passed and you made your rounds around the party, you spotted Bucky alone in the corner. You decided to approach him. "Hey, thanks for coming" You smiled at him and he would  swear it was the most beautiful smile he'd ever seen. " Of course, I wasn't going to miss your birthday and I had to bring you this." Bucky’s eyes drifted nervously to the elegant package he held. “I hope you like it,” He offered a warm smile. “I know it’s not much, but I wanted to get you something special.”

Before you could respond, the doorbell rang, and your face brightened with anticipation. “Oh, that must be someone else arriving,” you said, excusing yourself from the conversation. Bucky watched as you hurried to the door.

When you opened it, your face lit up with pure joy as you greeted your boyfriend, Thor. You threw your arms around him and he lifted you off your feet in a warm embrace, planting a kiss on your soft lips. The sight was both unexpected and stunning. Bucky and Steve stood frozen, their mouths slightly agape, completely taken aback by the reveal of your relationship with Thor. The room seemed to pause for a moment, the air thick with surprise as Bucky tried to process the scene before him.

After your warm reunion with Thor, you turned and walked back toward Bucky and Steve, your hand intertwined with Thor's. You introduced him with a radiant smile. "Guys, this is Thor. Thor, meet my brother Steve and his best friend Bucky."

Steve, though clearly surprised by the revelation, extended his hand with a friendly grin. "Nice to meet you, Thor. Welcome to the party." Thor shook Steve's hand firmly, his own smile wide and welcoming. "Thank you, Steve. It's great to finally meet you."

Bucky, on the other hand, stood a little further back, his expression a mix of disbelief and confusion. He managed a stiff nod, still processing the shock of seeing you with someone as imposing as Thor. “Hey,” he said, his voice lacking its usual warmth. He extended a hand but his grip was less firm as if he was still trying to reconcile the image of Thor with the reality of their situation. 

Thor, noticing Bucky’s discomfort, tried to bridge the gap with his charismatic charm. “I’ve heard a lot about you two. Y/N has spoken very highly of both of you.” Despite the effort, Bucky remained visibly unsettled, his gaze shifting between you and Thor, trying to come to terms with this unexpected twist in the evening’s events.

You stayed with Thor for a little bit longer before leaving his side to make your rounds again. It was during this time that you were alone in the kitchen getting things ready for the birthday cake that Bucky found you. 

Bucky looked at you, struggling to find the right words. “Y/N, there’s something I need to tell you,” he began. You cut him off with a sad smile. “I know, Bucky.  I don't feel the same feelings for you anymore. I also overheard that conversation years ago.”

Bucky’s face fell. “You heard that?” You nodded. “I did. And it hurt, more than you can know.”

Bucky swallowed hard. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I was an idiot. I’ve realized how wrong I was, and I want to make things right.”

You shook your head. “It’s too late for that now, Bucky. I’m with Thor and I’m happy. But thank you for saying something.”

The silence between them was heavy, filled with unspoken regrets and what-ifs. Bucky wished he could turn back time but he knew he had to accept the consequences of his past mistakes. 

You gave him a reassuring smile. “Take care, Bucky. It was good to see you again. Bucky nodded, his own smile tinged with a mix of regret and gratitude. “You too, Y/N, And happy birthday.” With one last look, he turned and walked out, leaving behind the echoes of their shared past and the complexities of the present.

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[blindmagdalena]

Ruiner

18+ 2.6k incubus!homelander x f!reader. extremely dubious consent, cunnilingus, comeplay/eating, vaginal dp, dirty talk, tail fucking, mild mindbreak, transformation, possessive behavior, breeding kink, marathon fucking, multiple orgasm, tail oral? mild breathplay.

After weeks of exhaustion, no matter how much sleep you get, you wake to a strange visitor in your bed. In a dark and honied voice, he promises you the pleasures found only in eternity.

written for monsterlander mania. check out this illustration by @luckytiggertalia!

For weeks, your nights have been plagued by a strange restlessness. No matter how early you retire to bed, you wake up heavy and groggy. It’s as if you close your eyes for a second, and then instantly wake twelve hours later, as unrested as ever. By the time you go to bed tonight, you’re nearly in a state of delirium, collapsing atop the covers without bothering to change your clothes.

The sun hasn’t set yet, but your eyes are too heavy to stay awake. Your whole body aches in misery.

“Please, just one… One good night,” you plead, bordering on tears as you curl up, nuzzling into your pillow. You fall asleep almost instantly–as you always do–and pray to anyone or anything willing to listen that this time, you actually rest.

You’re not sure what time it is when you wake. Strangely, it’s still dark out. You can’t remember the last time you woke before the sun rose, too exhausted to imagine it. Your head lolls from one side to the other, seeking out the LED glow of your clock, but you can’t make out the numbers. They’re bleary, and to your misery, you’re still heavy with fatigue.

The weight is more than that, though. You don’t just feel heavy, you feel something upon you. In the dark, you can make out a shadow above you, tracing the silhouette with your eyes, which widen as you see two glowing crimson spheres returning your stare.

“Hey you,” the figure above you purrs in a low voice so deliciously warm and sweet, you swear you feel it on your tongue. “Really did a number on you, didn’t I? You’re just so damn… tasty,” the figure coos, leaning down into the dim light of the moon spilling into your room, allowing you to properly see who is speaking to you.

You see strong features. Pronounced cheekbones, a broad, flat nose bridge, and the second the light hits them, those eerie red eyes shift into a handsome endless blue. His head is topped with a clean sweep of golden blonde hair, and when he tilts it, you see the distinct curve of long, twisting black horns jutting out on either side of it. You feel a scream build in your lungs, but it stays there, tight and unescaping in your chest. You realize you can’t move. You can’t speak.

“But I can admit when I’ve gone overboard, okay? And since you’ve been so good to me, I’m gonna be good to you,” he tells you, dragging a single finger down the line of your throat. It’s clawed, you realize belatedly, and you hear it cut through your clothing as easily as shears through paper.

You try desperately to choke out something, say anything, but it’s as if your throat is being held in an invisible vice lock. You’re shocked you can breathe.

“Shshshhhh,” he hushes, warm hands pulling the shreds of clothing from your body. You know your room is cold, but all you can feel is the heat rolling from the body atop yours like a burning hearth given flesh.

“Relax. It’s me. And we’ve had so much fun together, you and I,” he says, leaning down to brush his lips over yours. The contact sparks like a shock of electricity, making you gasp. With that jolt comes a flash of images one after another, the blurry edges of them falling somewhere between memories and dreams only half remembered.

You’ve been here before, felt the lick of this heat against your skin. Your own moans echo in your ears like a cacophony of overlapping instances of self. Every inch of your skin feels hot, like you’ve just been submerged in a scorching bath. Flashes of nights spent in the throes of ecstasy assault your mind, and at the center of it all, a pair of lucent rubied eyes.

“That’s it, see now. See how you’ve been mine all along,” he murmurs, lips brushing the hollow of your throat. His tongue drags a hot trail down your chest, dipping to the side, where he sucks a mark into the swell of your right breast. He pulls away with a soft pop, and kisses his way to your nipple. This time, you can feel the inhuman length of his tongue coiling around the sensitive hard bud like a serpent before you feel the pull of his lips sucking at you.

He takes your opposite breast in his clawed hand and massages it with his palm, coaxing more noises from you, more exquisite pleasure. The miasma of his presence is so overwhelming, you can feel it in the weight of the air. Every breath you take feels heavy in your lungs.

Bit by bit every drop of panic drains from you, replaced by sweltering shameless enjoyment. The more you allow it, the better his hands feel. His mouth feels best of all, a wicked thing that makes your skin feel so good it burns.

He uses his knees to spread your legs, and that’s when you feel the press of something thick between your thighs, dragging up the slick mess he’s made of you, pressing against your lightly throbbing clit. It moves strangely, with articulate deftness that defies all expectation. You jolt, a moan escaping you. “What is that?” You rasp, unsure of when you became able to speak again.

“Me,” he tells you, and the feeling disappears. A second later, you see an appendage rise up behind him. A tail, you realize. It’s as black as his horns, long and ridged on the top. The bottom reminds you of the belly of a snake, with smooth scales that layer seamlessly down. You watch, transfixed, as he brings it to his lips and opens wide, taking it into his mouth. You see just a flash of gleaming, sharp fangs. When the tail pulls away, it’s coated in a shiny, thick layer of saliva. 

It disappears, and you feel the pressure of it at your pussy once more, slowly and painlessly easing you open.You feel each and every bump as it slips into you, firm but malleable. You writhe, letting out a jagged moan. You realize you can move when you reflexively grab onto his hair, though the knuckles of your right hand bump his horn. Instinctively, you take hold of his horn, giving it a sharp pull that makes him moan.

He pulls off of your breast with a wet pop, both of which have grown tender under his attention. “More,” he encourages you, tilting his head to tug against your grasp. You comply, taking both of his horns into your hands and pushing his head down, down, down.

“Good, that’s good,” he growls, claws dragging tantalizing lines down your body, the sharpness of them drawing faint welts on your skin. He grabs your thighs and leans in to tongue your aching clit, pulling another moan from you. “Take, sweetheart. Take as much as you want. Take like I take from you,” he says, words like an inferno breathed on the most sensitive part of you.

You swear you can feel strength returning to your body. Your eyes no longer burn with desire for sleep. For the first time in weeks, you truly feel awake again.

His tail pushes deeper inside you while his impossibly long tongue draws figure-eights over your clit. You throw your head back and yank on his horns, back arching. You bounce your hips, fucking yourself on his tail while grinding against his tongue. He laughs against you, humming in pure delight at the way you hold him in place, shamelessly using him for your mounting pleasure. The vibrations drive you steadily to the brink.

You feel feverish with need, sweat prickling your skin. His mouth feels silky and hot against you while the ridges of his tail make you writhe with every push and pull. You come hard, clenching down on his tail, legs tightening on either side of his head, yanking his horns hard enough that he makes a shuddering noise of pleasure against you.

The euphoria is so intense that your vision turns white, but it doesn’t last. The waves fade out, and you’re left breathing heavily, wanting more.

“More,” you voice immediately, even as your legs shake. He messily licks his lips, swiping your shiny slick and his spit from his chin with his thumb before sucking it into his mouth. “I need more,” you say fervently.

He crawls up the length of your body like a stalking tiger, settling his weight overtop of you. He kisses you, licks the taste of sex and cinnamon into your mouth. His tongue curls around yours, pushing almost to the back of your throat. He breaks from you with a ragged breath. “You’ve kept me so well fed. Now it’s my turn to give you everything,” he vows, reaching down between your bodies. 

Your brows furrow, lips parting on a silent cry as you feel the blunt, wet head of his cock pressing into you just above his tail. He moans, holding you still while he slowly sinks into you. 

“Been so fucking perfect for me. Sweet little cunt, always dripping for me before I even touch you. You want to feel like this forever, don’t you? But why be my pet when you could be my equal, hmm? I can make you like me,” he whispers, punctuating every word with a thrust of his hips that brings him a little deeper each time. “And we’ll eat, fuck and live how we want for all eternity. Tell me that’s what you want.”

You keen, spreading your legs wider in an attempt to adjust to the added girth. You nod eagerly. The last thing you want to do is leave this exquisite agony behind, return to the mundane monotony of your life beyond this burning inferno. 

“Use your words, sweetheart,” he coos, cupping the side of your face. The sharp claw of his thumb drags across your cheek, barely light enough not to break the skin. He rocks his hips gently, alternating those thrusts with the slide of his tail. “Before I have to break you… Tell me that you want me to keep you.”

You grip his shoulders, struggling for breath. You feel so unbelievably full as he fucks you, floating on the overwhelm of sensation, but you’re present enough that his words send a shiver down your spine. “Yes. Yes, I want you to keep me. I want you to be mine forever,” you say, not wanting to lose this again. You don’t want to forget. You don’t want him to stop. You’re addicted to this. To him.

He moans loudly, dipping back down to kiss you. He hikes your legs up around his waist and thrusts in deep, swallowing your answering noises while he picks up a punishing pace, pounding you into the mattress hard enough that the whole bed shakes, headboard slamming against the wall.

“Fucking… tight,” he moans as you get closer to another climax, his voice frayed and eager. “I won’t insult you by stopping when you come. I’m going to fuck you so full of my come, you’re going to taste it,” he growls, hips snapping harder with each word, his tail and his cock fucking you until the tether in you snap, and you’re coming again, dragging your nails up his back while he mercilessly pounds you into the bed. 

He’s just as unrelenting as he promised to be, growling into the crook of your neck. You gasp when he sinks his teeth into your skin, holding you in place and fucking you like an animal until he, too, succumbs to his pleasure, his groan muffled into your flesh while a rush of heat fills your stuffed cunt even fuller.

You’re sure that’s the end of it.

You’re wrong.

He doesn’t stop thrusting. His cock is still hard inside you, heavy balls slapping against your ass with every thrust.

“No breaks for you,” he rasps, lapping at the bite he left at your neck. “This is your only purpose now.” He hauls you hips up, lifts himself up on his knees so that only your upper back and head are left on the bed.

You hear a noise behind him that sounds like tree branches snapping, and two enormous, leathery black wings unfurl from his back. His eyes glow like burning coals in the darkness. You give a shuddering moan as his tail slides out of you, reappearing over his shoulder.

He brings it right to your lips.

“Open,” he murmurs. You do, parting your lips and welcoming the silky slide of his tail on your tongue. He tastes like salt, sex and warm spices. Your eyelids flutter as you suck every drop, moving your tongue greedily over the tip of it. He bows his head back down against your shoulder, moaning in your ear so hungrily that you realize it must feel good for him. You suck harder, and sure enough, he shudders, holding your hips while he fucks you faster.

“Ffffuck, you’re so fucking good for me. Take me so good. Perfect pussy for breeding. Won’t spill a fucking drop, will you?” His rhythm never falters despite how ruined his own voice sounds. He pushes his tail deeper into your mouth, fucks your throat the same way he fucks your cunt, making it hard to breathe.

He comes again, dragging you over the threshold with that same intense rush of liquid heat. Your whole body trembles, and you’re lightheaded from lack of oxygen. His tail slips from your lips only to be replaced by his thumb hooking the corner of your mouth. He peers inside, and his lips split into a wicked grin. “Good girl,” he rumbles, prying your mouth open wider, inspecting your teeth. Confused, you roll your tongue along your top teeth, and only then do you understand.

You have fangs.

Before you can express your disbelief, he kisses you again, rocking against you in comparatively leisurely thrusts, luxuriating in the soaking wet mess he’s made of your cunt. “Just a little more, sweetheart, and you’ll be just like me. You and me? We’re gonna eat this whole fucking world alive.”

You lose track of how much time goes by. You lose track of how many times you come. How many times he comes. He fucks you until your pussy is raw and your voice hoarse. He kisses, licks and bites his way over every inch of you. It’s as if he desperately wants to devour you, and the only thing holding him back is his promise to keep you. 

You don’t have a single thought left in your head other than taking his cock deeper, feeling more of him, tasting more of him. You’re so cum-drunk it’s made you stupid, focused only on the pleasure he has to offer you. It should hurt, you think, and yet all you feel is resplendent euphoria.

He changes you. You grow more than fangs; your nails turn to claws, and you can feel the weight of horns on your skull. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he moans, coming inside you again with a shuddering moan. You feel his tail twist around yours.

“So fucking perfect. I love you, I love you, I love you,” he chants deliriously, adjusting your body against his own as he starts to thrust again.

The sun never does rise. You’re not sure that it ever will.

You don’t care, though. Not so long as you’re his, and he’s yours.

[promitto-amor]

Should Something Happen

Pairing: Mark Hoffman x You

Summary: While working as Jigsaw Apprentices, Amanda spoils some quality bonding time between yourself and Hoffman.

Warnings: Cursing!

Might this actually be a little bit of fluff? I wanted to do something involving the main Jigsaw crew and a protective Hoffman. 👀

Perhaps the only aspect of being an apprentice Mark enjoyed was the opportunity to work alongside you. Every trap crafted, every game played and every eventual death led Mark one step closer to his freedom. A life no longer in servitude for an impulsive act of vengeance. Mark had always struggled to quell his impulsiveness. It made him good in the field, Mark had earned a fair share of promotions for his quick actions, but his greatest mistake had cost him almost a year of servitude to Jigsaw himself. Until his sentence was up, until mark could be certain both John Kramer and his helper monkey were dead, he would carry out his part in the games with minimal complaint. In the meantime, he could find a steady contentment in watching the slackened, dream-like expression on your face as you fiddled with some shards of broken glass. 

“Careful,” Mark finds himself saying, “It’s not intended to spill your blood.”

You drop the shards back into the glass coffin and wander back to the workbench you’ve commandeered as a desk, “There’s so many traps,” You whine and if it were anyone else Mark would be grinding his teeth together. You flip your notebook onto a fresh page, “Who is this one for again?”

“I try not to make a habit of remembering names.” Mark answers, “Once you name something you get attached.”

You nod, “You’re right.” You pick up your pencil and hover it over the page. “Sadly I don’t have that luxury.” Mark keeps one eye on you as he cleans up his workbench, placing a set of screwdriver heads back in their assigned places. You think for a couple more minutes, your expression growing more pained till you drop the pencil again. “How can I write the tape for someone I know barely anything about?”

“Don’t ask me,” Mark says. “I’ve never been one for words.”

You give him a shrewd look, as if confirming his words. “You have special uses.” You say, jumping off your stool and heading over to a stack of boxes, freshly delivered.

“Oh yeah, like what?”

You send him a small smile, “Brawn, muscle, inside info…” 

“Is that all I am?” Mark can’t help the flicker of irritation he feels, “A meathead?”

“No,” You return to him, catching on you may have offended him. “You…” A couple teeth sink into your lip, “You’re the only one whose behaving.” 

Mark glances towards the open door, connecting the room to the rest of the Nerve Gas House, “Go on.”

You turn cagey, “Ever since Mexico…”

“Ah,” Mark nods, “Say no more.”

“I don’t like what I’ve been hearing.” You admit, “The aim of all this was never revenge.”

“Was it not?” Mark enjoys how your head lifts up to meet his gaze, “Was that not why you got mixed up in all this?”

You fix him with eyes of steel, “Maybe…” You admit, “But not anymore. Seems we’re cut from the same cloth, Detective.”

Mark likes how you say his title, pronouncing every syllable distinctly, “You don’t know me. Not really.”

“Maybe we should work on that?”

Something gives a leap inside Mark. Before he can answer you’re back at the delivery boxes and Amanda is thudding through the door. Her steel toe capped boots echo on the wood, little patches of dust springing up where she steps. She pauses on catching Mark stood in the centre of the room, “Admiring my work?” She asks, tilting her head.

“I thought John made this one?” You pipe up, before Mark can.

“He did.” Mark confirms, “That’s why this one has some refinement.”

“But it was my idea to add the…” Amanda’s points to the walls and then places her hands a couple inches apart. She presses them together slowly, applying pressure. The visual is enough for Mark to look away.

You busy yourself with the boxes again, “There’s nothing but syringes.” You take out one to show the two apprentices.

Mark tosses you a pair of gloves, “Put them on, they probably aren’t clean.”

You make a face and drop the syringe you’re holding, “Great. I’m going to need a check-up after this.”

“Be thankful you’re not the poor bastard diving in there.” Amanda smirks, heading over to inspect the coffin trap. “Is this one done yet?”

“Just needs a couple tests,” Mark says. “Any volunteers?”

“You first.” Amanda holds her arms up as if she’s a presenter, “Get in there, Detective.”

“What about you, babe?” Amanda slinks over to you and throws an arm around your shoulders, “The glass isn’t in yet, it’ll be like taking a good nap.”

“Stop trying to scare her.” Mark’s voice comes out with more bite than he expected. 

Amanda’s eyes flash, “Why you protective all of a sudden, Hoffman?”

Mark would never confess to the bitch before him, but he’s made a mistake and Amanda knows it. “We’re not testing anything without John here.”

Amanda makes a noncommittal noise.

“If John approves it, I’ll test it.” You offer, “I trust him.” Amanda jumps back into performance mode, “Aren’t they precious?”

“If you put this on.” You gingerly remove from another box a very familiar contraption and hold it out for Amanda to see. Mark grins behind Amanda’s back. He can just picture the colour draining from her face. Amanda doesn’t move as you walk past her with the Reverse Bear Trap in hand, “Very funny.” She calls, trying to reclaim some of her bravado.

“I thought so.” You counter, placing the device on the workbench.

Amanda’s scowl only becomes more prominent the longer she stares at her old trap, “Why is that here?” “Inventory.” You supply, “Or so I’m guessing.”

“Something old can always be re-used.” John wheels himself into the room. Wheelchair bound, he surveys the glass coffin standing pride of place in the middle of the room. “Is Laura’s test finished?”

“Almost,” Mark busies himself with checking over the gears situated behind the coffin.

“Laura,” You repeat, scribbling something on your pad. “I couldn’t for the life of me remember.”

John appears amused at your choice of words, “Writer’s block?” You look up as John wheels himself over to you. The Reverse Bear Trap is sat just a few feet away, Mark doesn’t like how close you are to something so barbaric. With you showing John your tape speeches and Mark still preoccupied with the gears, Amanda sulks in the middle. She makes her way over to Mark’s toolbox and grabs a wrench, right in John’s line of sight. Mark thinks it’s pathetic behaviour, how co-dependent she’s become since Mexico. He can see that your worries were justified. She makes her way over to the trap, but Mark has left her with nothing to do.

“There’s one glaring issue I see with this entire game,” You say in a low voice. You glance over to Amanda, “Won’t they all get suspicious if every one of them has a trap but her?”

“What did you say?”

“Amanda,” John cautions as his apprentice as she wheels round on the spot.

“I just worry that something will happen.” You say, closing your notebook and leaning against the workbench. “Are you really betting on all them failing and Daniel just being the last one left alive?”

“He doesn’t have a trap either.” Amanda points out, “I’m not the only one.”

“He isn’t being tested.” John states simply, “That is why you are there, Amanda. To protect him.” He turns back to you, “Nor is Amanda being tested.”

‘I still think we should put something in there.” You hold up your hands, “I think it’s foolish to leave it to chance.”

“Not if you can predict the outcome.”

Mark has heard it all before from John Kramer. He knows your attempts are futile, so he finishes up his work on the coffin and with nothing else to do, makes his way to the door. “I’m done for the night.”

“Thank you, Mark.” John says, “The game begins tomorrow. I presume you’ll be in position?”

“On the monitors.” He nods.

He’s been excused. Mark should go home and rest up for a long day ahead tomorrow. But he can’t quite bring himself to leave. John has resumed helping you with writing out the tape for the trap, but Mark doesn’t like how Amanda won’t leave the two of you alone. Her new behaviour has made him protective. Mark would have liked you to finish up at the same time as him. Perhaps he could offer to drop you home and they could work on getting to know each other.

“You want to put me in that.”

You, John and Mark all turn to Amanda, “What?” You ask.

Amanda nods, “That.” She points to the Reverse Bear Trap, “You want that to be my test. You want me to do it again?”

John glances imperceptibly to Mark. He swallows, so John shares their concern about his favourite apprentice. “Do you know how stupid you sound?” Mark cuts in, taking up what he hopes is a casual position beside you. “Everyone knows you already escaped it. 24/7 news coverage.” You’re still leaning against the workbench as Amanda walks around it, her eyes fixed on you as if you were prey. 

“It’s not a bad idea,” You taunt, “Some poetic justice”, but Amanda doesn’t find it clever. 

She shoves the Reverse Bear Trap toward you, “You don’t deserve to be here.” She hisses. Mark swears he can hear a ticking sound as you brace your arms on the table, “Of all the people to win, it had to be you didn’t it?” “Fair and square.” You return and Mark finds himself wondering for the umpteenth time just what your own game was. Before Amanda, before Mark himself joined Jigsaw, you were tested and won. His eyes fall on the scar on your neck, all that remains of your own brush with death.

“Use your brain,” You counter and your face is far too close to the trap as you glare back at Amanda Young. “You’d have to wake up in it, or someone would have to put you in it. I don’t think either of those are going to work in this game.”

“How about you wake up in it, you bitch?”

Mark’s hands snake around your middle and yank you back just as the trap rips open with a loud bang. The ferocity makes both you and Amanda jump. You would have fallen off your stool if not for Mark’s chest breaking your fall. He can feel the sharp breaths you take as the Reverse Bear Trap cools down and lies dormant once more.

“Amanda, take the trap and put it in my office.” John says. His apprentice turns wide, teary eyes on him, but John’s face is expressionless. “Now.”

She obeys instantly, taking the trap and striding out of the room.

Mark slides you back onto your stool, “Thank you.” You murmur, hand jumping instinctively to your neck.

“Are you alright?” John asks and you nod. Mark can see right through you, he could feel the tremors of your body against his. That was a close call. 

“She’s out of line, John.” Mark says, “I don’t know what the fuck happened over there, but it’s messed with her.”

“Amanda will be fine.” John insists, “She will play her part, so long as she isn’t provoked.” You nod, understanding your own fault but Mark refuses to admit to his own. “Now Detective, I believe we’re finished here. I will see you both tomorrow for the final preparations.”

Mark watches John wheel himself out. The moment he’s gone you rest your forearms on the workbench and place your head on them. You let out a deep sigh. Mark’s never been good at consoling anyone. It’s just not what he does. Not since Angelina…

He spots your fallen notebook and places it beside you, “Need a ride home?” “I don’t think I want to go home.” You say, your voice weak.

“You don’t want to stay here.” Mark says, “You can’t anyway. They all…arrive tomorrow.”

“How can you do that?” You lift up your head, “How can you willingly put people in here knowing they will probably die?” Mark meets your eyes, “I convince myself they deserve to suffer.”

“You don’t lie awake thinking about it?”

“No,” He’s being honest. “I think it’s one less shitty person out there.”

“Then you must think that about me.” You push some hair out of your eyes and wrap your arms around yourself. “I’m not…you know what I did-“

“And you know what I did.” Mark takes you by your forearms, “Do you think I’m a monster?”

Your eyes dart around the room and then land on the glass coffin, “Sometimes.” Mark allows himself time to digest that, it isn’t what he wanted to hear. But your hands come to rest on his own forearms and then you’re pressing your forehead into his chest, “But you make me feel safe. You help me.”

He didn’t expect to earn such close proximity again, this time deliberately. Mark pulls you closer, your hands slide up to rest on his chest and Mark curses his choice to remain in a jacket. Your warmth is tantalising as it seeps into him. Mark tucks you into his large frame and winds his arms back around you.

It feels good to be wanted.

With your face smushed into him, Mark rests his head atop yours. He doesn’t know what else he can do, so he lets his eyes close. “We can look out for each other.” He proposes, “Should something happen.”

“I’d like that.”

[oconswrld]

That smile on your face, makes it easy to trust you.

Girl with the smile. - Sergio Pérez x Reader.

summary: Checo finally gets to talk to the girl he's been smiling at every day.

The sun hit her face so beautifully, like an ancient greek goddess. There are so many words Checo could use to explain her beauty, yet none ever captured the breaths she takes away. Every drill, every motor sound blurs and the world slows when she smiles right back at him.

It's been a race season filled with smiles from her. Teeth showing, or even just a grin that he couldn't get enough of. The amount of times he has caught her staring can't be counted, but it also works vice-versa.

Y/n is her name, she's Adrian's new protégé. They never crossed paths enough to talk, maybe the fact they were both blushing even at the sound of each other's name helped with the avoiding too.

The moment Sergio saw her relaxing outside the garage on her phone, he just knew it was time to finally talk to her. Those bambi eyes she always had moved up to look at him. And that damn smile came out again. Y/n's pink lips pulling and her perfectly asymmetrical teeth showing.

" Hi! " She started the conversation with a light giggle at his presence. Locking and setting her phone down, leaning forward to show him how much she was interested in talking to him.

His legs shook, being at her full mercy. She could simply walk away from him and he'd still watch her walk away with a love-sick look. A permanent blush stuck on Sergio's face at her attention to details.

" Hey. " Showing a tight lipped smile to her.

" I'm Y/n! How are you Checo? " The way she talked so gently yet so confident in her own knowledge made him want to listen to her for eternity. Her accent is heavy on the way she says his nickname. Heavenly and simply beautiful.

" I'm good. It's finally the moment for us to talk. " Light pours over his back, highlighting the way his eyebrows move closer while pronouncing words, as if to not trip over himself. Y/n never saw Sergio do that with anyone else. It made her chuckle.

Her hand finds her drink, taking a quick sip only to resume her talking.

" Been looking for you every day and night I'm here. " Laughing at her own middle school crush.

" I've been wanting to hear your accent slip through when you're talking to me, not to those interviewers. " He stated, remembering the times he saw her embarrassed over not knowing the english words for something.

" If you want it, i will grant it to you, Sergio. "

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 568,239 others

yourusername: Those innocent eyes.

tagged: schecoperez

View all 893 comments

schecoperez: That smile on your face.

yourusername: taught u so well abt Miguel babyy🥹

landonorris: Y/n really taught Checo about Girl with the tattoo before she did anything else🤨

maxverstappen1: I literally don't wanna see you look at each other with those lingering stares anymore..

yourusername: stfu lil bro. im chewing on your set of tires the next pit stop😤

Viki's Radio: I love my man smm!!! omfg i love checo sm its odd at this point🙏🏻 need more fanfics 4 himm.

[hbghq]

i'm so normal about these two so have a concept before i go to bed // injuries, bad eating habits, self-starving, kind of implied self harm ig, disordered eating

context: seawatt's been brought back to parkour civilization and evbo's been keeping an eye on him and making sure he's not doing evil stuff again

evbo goes to visit seawatt at one point and seawatt's very closed off and cold, wrapping himself in his robe tighter than usual, his cape a bit lower around his shoulders.

they talk for a bit, evbo bright and cheery as usual until he notices seawatt seemingly running out of energy mid-conversation, his responses shortening and becoming less energetic (not that they were to begin with but it's possible he'd just been having an off day).

seawatt excuses himself for a moment and evbo waits patiently as he walks out of the room, only to hear a soft thud against the wall on the other side of the room.

he's worried, and when seawatt doesn't come back for a few minutes he goes over to check on him, only to find him slumped against the wall, spasming slightly. he's taking damage.

evbo panics, asking him what's going on, seawatt's too delirious to answer but all evbo can get out of him is that he's hungry and when he looks, seawatt's health is frighteningly low. he hasn't been eating.

evbo gently pulls them both into a sitting position, cradling seawatt in his arms, laying his head in his lap. he's gentle, worried, panicking a bit, as seawatt winces at another half-heart gone.

he regrets it, it's clear. evbo can see it in his eyes. there's a silent plea for him to help and he doesn't know what to do. his enemy, his ally, his... friend? is wasting away in his arms.

evbo thinks for a moment, then softly lays his hands on seawatt's cheeks. he'd get an earful for messing up his makeup, but he could deal with that later. he closes his eyes, concentrating.

seawatt hisses in pain, not from another spasm but from the heat coming off evbo's palms. it's just warm enough to be uncomfortable and feels like pins and needles, spreading from his face into his nerves and down his entire body, slowly, like waking up a limb after you slept on it funny.

evbo doesn't move. thirty seconds, then two minutes, then five, he stays like this, seawatt barely unable to keep from squirming out of discomfort at the strange hot tingling throughout his entire body when suddenly it's gone.

he's exhausted. evbo's panting quietly above him, eyes closed, a light sheen of sweat visible on his skin. suddenly seawatt is the one worried. he sits up out of evbo's lap, careful not to headbutt him, and turns around to try and ask what's wrong, only to see evbo smiling weakly at him.

"i had a hunch i could heal people... i didn't know it would take that much energy." he laughs softly. seawatt's expression is blank, astonished.

"i'll be okay in a little bit. how's your health?"

seawatt checks. full health, full saturation. he's not dying anymore.

"what the hell?" he mutters.

"that's an interesting way to pronounce thank you" Evbo grins, already returning to his normal self. seawatt rolls his eyes. stands. offers a hand to the God who had just saved his life in his own home.

evbo takes it. stands along with him, smiling up at seawatt. (he's shorter. it's kind of cute, actually. not that he'd ever admit that to anyone.)

"you're gonna be okay, right?" seawatt snaps out of his daze, he'd been staring at evbo a bit too long. he nods. of course he would. he already owes God his life... he's not going to owe him twice over.

evbo seems to sense his thoughts and giggles. seawatt realizes they're still holding hands. he doesn't let go, silently hoping evbo won't notice.

"thank you." seawatt mumbles under his breath.

"hey, if you need extra food, just ask, okay? you know where to find me." his smile is blinding. stupid Gods and their stupid perfection.

"yeah, whatever."

[annewithaneofthegreengable]

Homecoming Daydream Part 2

Summary: With the power of Ferrari’s ghost, Enzo or whoever officiated me with a Charles Leclerc’s in Jesus’ form. I pronounce you, husband and wife.

Pairing: Toto Wolff x reader.

Genre: Romance, fluff and smut.

Author's note: This is a multiple-chapter Toto x Reader fanfic. Noted that English is not my mother tongue so there will be mistakes.

Part 1: Homecoming Daydream

Y/n hadn’t lied before. She wasn’t nervous about marrying Toto. Like at all. 

At that moment, as she walked towards him, down the altar, she was overcome not by excitement but was overwhelmed with the sense of love. The sight of someone, and not just someone, he is, the man in her dream standing at the end of the aisle, patiently waiting for her. She felt like she must have been trapped in a dream, one that she silently prayed to never be woken up from. But as her tipped French nails poked into the palm of her hand, she realised that all these things were happening and they were indeed, 100% true. As she neared him, she could feel the nerves and butterflies disappear and be replaced by a warm feeling of peace and serenity. Like a homecoming. And she is indeed at home now and forevermore. 

All she could do was focus on the heartbeat hammering away in her ears. Then, Toto’s warm hand wrapped around her own. Then, his face – his beautiful dark brown eyes so invitingly warm and intense, she felt caught in his gaze. Then, his gorgeous smile, told her just how happy he was. And slowly her heartbeat steadied, the deafening pulse quieted and she was gently grounded back into the moment with him. I am home, she thought. 

And not a second too early, because as she caught Fred’s expectant gaze, she realized that they somehow must’ve gotten to the part where they would exchange their vows. Y/n cleared her throat. The words came so easily – because they were true. 

“Toto. I must say this and I know it’s not a very romantic way to start a vow but I had a pretty much okay life before I met you.”

There was a low rumble of laughter in the crowd. Y/n smiled and took another deep breath before she continued.

“It’s not fantastic, just average like anyone else’s life out there can be, and I guess I was fine with it. With the thought of being a loner traveller in this lifetime. With the thought of never being the chosen one. Everything ate me up and made me believe it that way. Until I met you. I never expected to meet someone like you. I didn’t even think of someone like you to ever set foot in my life. Slowly, I get to know the beautiful person you are, inside and out. To be so lucky as to fall in love with you. I’ve found my new home, you – right here. And I couldn’t be more grateful to spend my life with you.”

She saw the moisture shimmering in his eyes and was sure that her own looked pretty similar. He smiled, before nodding at Fred and taking a deep breath. 

“ Y/n, my life was pretty much like yours before I met you. Except for all the noise, the hustle lifestyle and the demands of everything in my life,... Too much that there were days I thought it was going to swallow me whole. That was until we came across. I didn’t know I could ever admire one’s eyes this much, and just hearing your laughter and being with you made me feel at home. You called me your home, Schatz. Well, you are mine, too. As you have given me your hands to hold, so I give you my life to hold from this day forward.” 

Her heart beat steadily throughout his vows, but the tears that had been on the verge of slipping before now streamed freely down her face. There was nothing she could do about it. It was as though her love for this man poured out of her body because there was simply too much of it to be physically contained.

She was vaguely aware that Lewis stepped forward behind Toto and handed him something. Toto took the box and flipped it open, revealing two rings. Y/n gasped and swallowed an incredulous chuckle at the size of the diamond inside. Toto hadn’t proposed to her with an engagement ring, since he’d done it spontaneously one night, while they were still wrapped up in bed together. After, she’d told him not to get one, since she found a single wedding ring would more than suffice. Really, she should’ve expected that he would go above and beyond with it, knowing he would go feral in choosing her the perfect ring, with the biggest diamond, of course. He smirked at her reaction and picked the ring from the box, looking at Lewis expectantly. His friend chuckled.

“Okay, I feel kinda silly even asking after all of that, but here we go. Toto, do you Y/n to be your wife?” 

“I do”, Toto answered, his voice even and earnest, despite his smile. Then he slid the ring in place and lifted her hand to his lips for a soft kiss. 

“I love you” he whispered. 

That steady pulse from before was replaced by a frantic gallop, her heart almost jumping out of her chest at the touch of his lips. 

“And Y/n, do you take Grandpa Toto here to be your husband?”

There was another rumble of laughter from the audience, Toto however, acted as though he hadn’t even heard the quip, his eyes glued to her face, her lips. Waiting to hear her answer. As if he still couldn’t believe she’d agree. Silly old man. 

“I do“, she said. Then she plucked the other ring from the box, a simple gold band, and took Toto’s hand.

“And I love you too,“ she whispered and slid the ring onto his finger. 

They stood there and stared at each other, both smiling and silently crying, until Fred cleared his throat and even his voice sounded suspiciously tight with emotion. 

“Well, then with the power of Ferrari’s ghost, Enzo or whoever officiated me with a Charles Leclerc’s in Jesus’ form. I pronounce you, husband and wife. You may kiss your wife now, Wolff.”

And then just only waiting for that moment, her husband did what he was said to do. 

 Everyone cheered, as Toto released Y/n just slightly, still holding her in his arms, as she grinned up at him. „Hey husband“, she whispered.

His heart felt like it had grown three sizes.

„Hey wife“, he answered, with a smile so wide it actually hurt.

The music turned up in the background and people jumped out of their chairs, charging towards them for hugs and kisses. Lewis was first since he stood right next to them. He clapped Toto on the back before twirling Y/n into one of his bear hugs, making her laugh as he lifted her off the ground. 

“Welcome to the fam, Mrs. Wolff or you prefer it as Mrs. Mercedes. Thank you for saving us from the wrath of him smashing  another pair of Bose’s headphones.”

“I’m more than happy too,” she answered with a wink towards Toto. 

Y/n’s friends and family were another matter, alternately sobbing blended with screaming here and there (happy scream, of course) as they essentially pried her from his hands. She looked over her shoulder at him and gave a little shrug while rolling her eyes, before trying to calm everyone down. As dramatic as them all, she felt whole with them here today. 

Half an hour later, most of the crying was done, and people had started mingling and dancing. And Y/n was finally back at his side, as he pulled her out onto the dancefloor for their first dance as wife and husband. 

„I missed you“, she murmured, sighing happily as she leaned into him, slowly swaying from side to side. 

He grinned.

„I missed you too, sweetheart. Almost broke that stupid rule and came to see you last night, but they almost sent a missing report so I pretty much couldn’t pull the trick of meeting at a secret place like Romeo and Juliet.“

“You want us to die. That’s not what I imagine a happily ever after ending is about, Toto. Did I just marry a crazy, old man?” 

“You did not say that.” He said, completely serious.

“Is that so?”

“Just so you know, wifey. This crazy, old man here fully intended to fuck you tonight. you look so perfect in this dress. Makes me wanna fucking ruin you.” 

She tilted her head as though she was weighing her options with a flushed face. 

“Hmm. That’s the kind of crazy I can handle. And you also aged just fine, husband. Also, you've already ruined me. I can't go five minutes without thinking about your hands on me, our bodies intertwined.”

Toto cursed quietly, already feeling himself harden in his suit. Not an ideal situation, with everyone watching them spin around in slow circles on the dance floor. 

“Oh, Schatz, you can’t say this in public without expecting me to get all hard up.”

Y/n hummed quietly and leaned closer, sliding her hand down his back and pressing her soft body against his torso.

“Rewards come to those whose patience, husband of mine. I promise you there will present for you to open tonight.”

After making the rounds, taking turns dancing with their friends and family, posing for photos and indulging in the food, Toto's patience was running thin. Although surrounded by family and beloved friends, Toto felt increasingly impatient. The wedding felt like an eternity and a huge distraction from the real reason they were all there: to witness Toto and his bride say "I do." He now started to wonder where his wife had gone since she disappeared 15 minutes ago. 

“Have you guys seen my wife?” Toto asked Lewis, Sebastian and George. 

“You really enjoy saying that, huh?“ George teased.

“I think she went upstairs to freshen up, maybe,” Lewis said.

[blindmagbrolena]

Ruiner ( m!reader )

18+ 2.8k incubus!homelander x m!reader. bottom homelander, extremely dubious consent, oral, comeplay/eating, riding, dirty talk, tail fucking, mild mindbreak, transformation, possessive behavior, marathon fucking, multiple orgasm, tail oral? mild breathplay, no refractory period.

After weeks of exhaustion, no matter how much sleep you get, you wake to a strange visitor in your bed. In a dark and honied voice, he promises you the pleasures found only in eternity.

m!reader version of this fic. written for monsterlander mania just wanted to ride incubus!HL riding cock and getting cum-drunk. 🖤 thank you so much @homeb0ys for this SICK edit of our incubus boy!

For weeks, your nights have been plagued by a strange restlessness. No matter how early you retire to bed, you wake up heavy and groggy. It’s as if you close your eyes for a second, and then instantly wake twelve hours later, as unrested as ever. By the time you go to bed tonight, you’re nearly in a state of delirium, collapsing atop the covers without bothering to change your clothes.

The sun hasn’t set yet, but your eyes are too heavy to stay awake. Your whole body aches in misery.

“Please, just one… One good night,” you plead, bordering on tears as you curl up, nuzzling into your pillow. You fall asleep almost instantly–as you always do–and pray to anyone or anything willing to listen that this time, you actually rest.

You’re not sure what time it is when you wake. Strangely, it’s still dark out. You can’t remember the last time you woke before the sun rose, too exhausted to imagine it. Your head lolls from one side to the other, seeking out the LED glow of your clock, but you can’t make out the numbers. They’re bleary, and to your misery, you’re still heavy with fatigue.

The weight is more than that, though. You don’t just feel heavy, you feel something upon you. In the dark, you can make out a shadow above you. You trace the silhouette with your eyes, which widen as you see two glowing crimson spheres returning your stare.

“Hey you,” the figure above you purrs in a low voice so deliciously warm and sweet, you swear you taste it on your tongue. “Really did a number on you, didn’t I? You’re just so damn… tasty,” the figure coos, leaning down into the dim light of the moon spilling into your room, allowing you to properly see who is speaking to you.

You see strong features. Pronounced cheekbones, a broad, flat nose bridge, and the second the light hits them, those eerie red eyes shift into a handsome endless blue. His head is topped with a clean sweep of golden blonde hair, and when he tilts it, you see the distinct curve of long, twisting black horns jutting out on either side of it. You feel a scream build in your lungs, but it stays there, tight and unescaping in your chest. You realize you can’t move. You can’t speak.

“But I can admit when I’ve gone overboard, okay? And since you’ve been so good to me, I’m gonna be good to you,” he tells you, dragging a single finger down the line of your throat. It’s clawed, you realize belatedly, and you hear it cut through your clothing as easily as shears through paper.

You try desperately to choke out something, say anything, but it’s as if your throat is being held in an invisible vice lock. You’re shocked you can breathe.

“Shshshhhh,” he hushes, warm hands pulling the shreds of clothing from your body. You know your room is cold, but all you can feel is the heat rolling from the body atop yours like a burning hearth given flesh. “Relax. It’s me. And we’ve had so much fun together, you and I,” he says, leaning down to brush his lips over yours. The contact sparks like a shock of electricity, making you gasp. With that jolt comes a flash of images one after another, the blurry edges of them falling somewhere between memories and dreams only half remembered.

You’ve been here before, felt the lick of this heat against your skin. Your own moans echo in your ears like a cacophony of overlapping instances of self. Every inch of your skin feels hot, like you’ve just been submerged in a scorching bath. Flashes of nights spent in the throes of ecstasy assault your mind, and at the center of it all, a pair of lucent rubied eyes.

“That’s it, see now. See how you’ve been mine all along,” he murmurs, lips brushing the hollow of your throat. His tongue drags a hot trail down your chest, dipping to the side, where he sucks a mark into the swell of your right pec. He pulls away with a soft pop, and kisses his way to your nipple. This time, you can feel the inhuman length of his tongue coiling around the sensitive hard bud like a serpent before you feel the pull of his lips sucking at you.

He takes your opposite pec in his clawed hand and massages it with his palm, coaxing more noises from you, more exquisite pleasure. The miasma of his presence is so overwhelming, you can feel it in the weight of the air. Every breath you take feels heavy in your lungs. Bit by bit every drop of panic drains from you, replaced by sweltering shameless enjoyment. The more you allow it, the better his hands feel. His mouth feels best of all, a wicked thing that makes your skin feel so good it burns.

He uses his knees to spread your legs, and that’s when you feel the touch of something thick between your thighs, dragging up the curve of your ass, curling around your rapidly hardening cock. It moves strangely, with articulate deftness that defies all expectation. You jolt, a moan escaping you as it strokes you.. “What is that?” You rasp, unsure of when you became able to speak again.

“Me,” he tells you, and the feeling disappears. A second later, you see an appendage rise up behind him. A tail, you realize. It’s as black as his horns, long and ridged on the top. The bottom reminds you of the belly of a snake, with smooth scales that layer seamlessly down. You watch, transfixed, as he brings it to his lips and opens wide, taking it into his mouth. You see just a flash of gleaming, sharp fangs. When the tail pulls away, it’s coated in a shiny, thick layer of saliva. 

It disappears, and you feel the pressure of it at your hole now, slowly and somehow painlessly easing you open, his saliva making it unnaturally slick. You feel each and every bump as it slips into you, firm but malleable. You writhe, letting out a jagged moan. You realize you can move when you reflexively grab onto his hair, though the knuckles of your right hand bump his horn. Instinctively, you take hold of his horn, giving it a sharp pull that makes him moan.

He pulls off of your nipple with a wet pop, both of which have grown tender under his attention. “More,” he encourages you, tilting his head to tug against your grasp. You comply, taking both of his horns into your hands and pushing his head down, down, down.

“Good, that’s good,” he growls, claws dragging tantalizing lines down your body, the sharpness of them drawing faint welts on your skin. He grabs your thighs and leans in to tongue the head of your aching cock, pulling another moan from you. “Take, sweetheart. Take as much as you want. Take like I take from you,” he says, words like an inferno breathed on the most sensitive part of you.

You swear you can feel strength returning to your body. Your eyes no longer burn with desire for sleep. For the first time in weeks, you truly feel awake again.

His tail pushes deeper inside you while his impossibly long tongue wraps around the length of your cock. You throw your head back and yank on his horns, back arching. You bounce your hips, fucking yourself down on his tail and up into his mouth. He laughs against you, humming in pure delight at the way you hold him in place, shamelessly using him for your mounting pleasure. The vibrations drive you steadily to the brink.

You feel feverish with need, sweat prickling your skin. His mouth feels silky and hot around you while the ridges of his tail make you writhe with every push and pull. You come hard, clenching down on his tail, legs tightening on either side of his head, yanking his horns hard enough that he makes a shuddering noise of pleasure against you, your cock buried all the way down his throat.

The euphoria is so intense that your vision turns white, but it doesn’t last. The waves fade out, and you’re left breathing heavily, wanting more. Your cock is still almost painfully hard in his mouth.

“More,” you voice immediately, even as your legs shake. He pulls off of you with a slurp and messily licks his lips, swiping his spit from his chin with his thumb before sucking it into his mouth. “I need more,” you say fervently.

He crawls up the length of your body like a stalking tiger, settling his weight overtop of you. He kisses you, licks the taste of sex and cinnamon into your mouth. His tongue curls around yours, pushing almost to the back of your throat. He breaks from you with a ragged breath. “You’ve kept me so well fed. Now it’s my turn to give you everything,” he vows, reaching down between your bodies. 

Your brows furrow, lips parting on a silent cry as you feel him take hold of your cock in a firm grip, and in one slow, continuous slide, welcome you into the tight, wet inferno of his body. He moans, holding you still while he takes every inch of you. 

“Been so fucking perfect for me. Beautiful cock always dripping for me before I even touch you. You want to feel like this forever, don’t you? But why be my pet when you could be my equal, hmm? I can make you like me,” he whispers, punctuating every word with a roll of his hips that brings you a little deeper each time. All the while, he’s still slamming his tail in and out of you. “And we’ll eat, fuck and live how we want for all eternity. Tell me that’s what you want.”

You keen, spreading your legs wider in an attempt to adjust to the girth of his tail. You nod eagerly. The last thing you want to do is leave this exquisite agony behind, return to the mundane monotony of your life beyond this burning perfection. 

“Use your words, sweetheart,” he coos, cupping the side of your face. The sharp claw of his thumb drags across your cheek, barely light enough not to break the skin. He rocks his hips greedily, alternating his pace with the slide of his tail, which only gets thicker the deeper he fucks you. “Before I have to break you… Tell me that you want me to keep you.”

You grip his shoulders, struggling for breath. You feel so unbelievably full as he fucks you, both taking him and taken by him, floating on the overwhelm of sensation, but you’re present enough that his words send a shiver down your spine. “Yes. Yes, I want you to keep me. I want you to be mine forever,” you say, not wanting to lose this again. You don’t want to forget. You don’t want him to stop. You’re addicted to this. To him.

He moans loudly, dipping back down to kiss you. He takes hold of your throat and pulls his tail almost all the way out before driving it hard back in at the same time he bounces on your cock, swallowing up your answering noises while he picks up a punishing pace, pounding you into the mattress hard enough that the whole bed shakes, headboard slamming against the wall.

“Fucking… tight,” he moans as you get closer to another climax, his voice frayed and eager as his tail twists inside you. “I won’t insult you by stopping when you come. I’m going to fuck you until I can taste your come inside me,” he growls, hips snapping harder with each word. The combination of his tight, wet hole and thick tail slamming into you causes the last tether in you to snap, and you’re coming again, dragging your nails up his back while he mercilessly pounds you into the bed. 

He’s just as unrelenting as he promised to be, growling into the crook of your neck. You gasp when he sinks his teeth into your skin, holding you in place and riding you like an animal until he, too, succumbs to his pleasure, his groan muffled into your flesh while a rush of heat splatters over your stomach, ribbons of it reaching all the way up to your chest.

You’re sure that’s the end of it.

You’re wrong.

He doesn’t stop thrusting. His cock is still hard where it bounces against your stomach, his lust insatiable as he grinds down against you. “No breaks for you,” he rasps, lapping at the bite he left at your neck. He dips further down to lick his own come from your chest. “This is your only purpose now.” 

He straightens up, arching his back to take you deeper, sinking his full weight down on you. You hear a noise behind him that sounds like tree branches snapping, and two enormous, leathery black wings unfurl from his back. His eyes glow like burning coals in the darkness. You give a shuddering moan as his tail slides out of you, reappearing over his shoulder.

He brings it right to your lips.

“Open,” he murmurs. You do, parting your lips and welcoming the silky slide of his tail on your tongue. He tastes like salt, sex and warm spices. Your eyelids flutter as you suck, moving your tongue greedily over the tip of it. He bows his forehead back down against your shoulder, moaning in your ear so hungrily that you realize it must feel good to him. You suck harder, and sure enough, he shudders, pinning you down by your shoulders while he fucks himself harder.

“Ffffuck, you’re so fucking good for me. Take me so good, feel so good inside me. Perfect cock for breeding every fucking hole. You’ll give me every drop, won’t you?” His rhythm never falters despite how ruined his own voice sounds. He pushes his tail deeper into your mouth, fucks your throat the same way he fucks himself on your cock, making it hard to breathe.

He comes again, dragging you over the threshold with that same intense clench of his body. You tremble all over, lightheaded from lack of oxygen. His tail slips from your lips only to be replaced by his thumb hooking the corner of your mouth. He peers inside, and his lips split into a wicked grin. “Good boy,” he rumbles, prying your mouth open wider, inspecting your teeth. Confused, you roll your tongue along your top teeth, and only then do you understand.

You have fangs.

Before you can express your disbelief, he kisses you again, rocking against you in comparatively leisurely thrusts, luxuriating in the soaking wet mess you’ve made of his hole, your own come spilling and wetting your lap and balls. “Just a little more, sweetheart, and you’ll be just like me. You and me? We’re gonna eat this whole fucking world alive.”

You lose track of how much time goes by. You lose track of how many times you come. How many times he comes. He fucks you until your hole and cock are both raw, and your voice hoarse. He kisses, licks and bites his way over every inch of you. It’s as if he desperately wants to devour you, and the only thing holding him back is his promise to keep you. 

You don’t have a single thought left in your head other than fucking him deeper, feeling more of him, tasting more of him. You’re so intoxicated by his perpetually tight, velvety hole that it’s made you stupid, focused only on the pleasure he has to offer you. It should hurt, you think, and yet all you feel is resplendent euphoria.

He changes you. You grow more than fangs; your nails turn to claws, and you can feel the weight of horns on your skull. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he moans, coming on you again, adding to the slick mess he’s left between your bodies. You feel his tail twist around yours. You scoop your fingers through the layer of come on your stomach, and he hungrily sucks them clean.

“So fucking perfect. I love you, I love you, I love you,” he chants deliriously, adjusting your body against his own as he starts to ride again. When his eyes aren’t red, they’re pitch black, pupils blown and cum-drunk.

The sun never does rise. You’re not sure that it ever will.

You don’t care, though. Not so long as you’re his, and he’s yours.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

I recently started learning Welsh in part because of you (I have been working on Gàidhlig/Scottish Gaelic for about three years, but I needed some variety). I have a pronunciation question: how do you pronounce the double L that occurs at the beginning of words like llaeth and llysiau? Sometimes the speaker on Duolingo sounds like they're making an English sh sound, as in shadow, and other times it sounds like English ch, as in cherry. I have hearing loss, so parsing sounds can be tricky.

Western languages have no analogue, so it does get tricky!

My description that I always give people: so you know how some sounds like 'h' and 's' and 't' don't use your vocal chords? Instead you just push air out of your mouth around your tongue and lips in various shapes?

Ll is one of those. No vocal chords. Put them away. In fact, the best sound to think of is 'h', because that's pure air.

The tongue position you want is the same as for a normal 'L'. Tip behind your top teeth on your gum, noise made around the sides. But instead of using your vocal chords for the noise, you're going to say an 'h' sound. Pure air, no vocal chords.

The result should feel like an odd, saliva-filled hiss. The joke among Welsh speakers is that you know you're doing it right when you spit on the people to either side of you, but not in front of you (in practice you're doing it right when you don't spit, but it's an odd feeling the first time.) It gets easier the more you practice it.

As a final note, while saying the proper sound is obviously the real aim of the game and what you should work towards, there ARE ways to substitute for something close:

THL. This is my personal favourite substitution by people who can't say it. Llanelli -> thlanethli. It actually sounds pretty close, and it's fairly soft and fluid, so it doesn't make anyone wince. A lot of people may not even notice at first.

FL. Similar to the above, but much more audibly wrong, so it does jar a bit. But not bad.

CL. This is what children say when they're learning. It is a clear mispronunciation, but it also shows that you know it's a different letter and you are trying. Pretty ugly though - Clanecli. People will wince.

L. NEVER JUST USE L. Never ever do that. Ever. That's the disrespectful English approach. Never ever ever. Avoid.

Final note! Thank you so much for learning! Have a wonderful week

[whousestypewriters]

she's mine - j.o.t.h x e.f

pairing: jacks x evangeline fox

requested: yes / no

warnings: perverted behaviour like the dude is a creep

a/n: ahhhhhh jacks and evangeline are so cute i love them so much also its like 12am im tired and delusional so im sorry if the ending isn't very good

taglist: @lxvebelle, @moonlightt444, @nqds

evangeline and parties usually mix very well.

so when lala invited to her this particular one she jumped at the opportunity to dress up and socialise with everybody, being the social butterfly she is.

jacks on the other hand? had to actually be dragged out of the hollow and bribed with one on one time with evangeline. even now he's still grumbling as he makes his way through the room brushing off - sorry ignoring - anyone who tries to talk to him.

he's looking for one person in particular, a certain pink haired girl, and yet he can't seem to find her. "ahh jacks its so good to see yo-" the random lord - whoever it was, it doesn't matter - tries to talk to him, but jacks pushes him away before he can say anything else.

a small glimpse of a pink head caught his attention and the twenty minutes he's been at this party have been absolutely terrible, so he is determined to find evangeline and get the hell out of here.

people are nauseating.

he avoids a few more ladies and lords in ugly outfits and makes his way around the corner to where he thought he saw evangeline but is only greeted by a drunken stranger waving his glass around in the air talking to no one.

"well wasn't she a pretty little doll," he slurs. "that lala sure knows how to throw a party!" he spins around spilling some of his drink. "but motherrrrr, i don't want to go to school," he pronounces now facing a statue.

jacks rolls his eyes and is about to turn back when he hears evangeline's voice. "uh, okay, can you let me go?"

his senses are on high alert and he all but shoves the drunk man still leering at the statue into the wall, "oh dahlia you're such a good kisser!"

he rounds another corner and is met with a sight that causes rage to bubble so far under his skin its almost unnatural.

~~

evangeline has had fun this evening.

when she and jacks first arrived she (somehow) slipped out of his grasp and floated around gossiping with lala and talking brightly with everyone.

she had just quickly moved away to go to the bathroom when he cornered her. his hand instantly moving to her waist making her feel uncomfortable.

"um hello?" she asks her voice going up an octave in discomfort.

"hey there pretty girl," the creep breathes, the alcohol on his breath evident. "you and i would make a pretty good team."

"uh, okay, can you let me go?" she asks trying to squirm out of the creeps hold but he just tightens his grip on her and pulls her closer, inhaling.

"get your hands off her." the voice comes from a few feet away and is filled with so much anger evangeline can practically feel it radiating off him.

"who do you think you are?" the creep asks, wrapping an arm around eva either not noticing the way she tenses, or the way jacks' eyes darken or he just doesn't care. "this is my girlfriend!" he drunkenly announces, "so just leave us be."

"you have about five seconds to get your hands off of my girl or i'll remove them from your body."

the man lately registers the threat and loosens his hold allowing time for eva to slam her elbow into his gut and rip out of his hold, into jacks' arms.

she buries her head into his chest and relishes the warmth and immediate comfort jacks' arms bring. "jacks," she breathes.

"this is my girl and you better never show your face near her ever again or i will end you and your pathetic little life before its even started," jacks' crisp voice rips into the hallway.

"please who do you think you are? i'm a lord. what are you some random who managed to sneak into this party?" he steps forward threateningly.

"i am the person who's going to remove your head from your body if you come any closer, think wisely about your next choice lord."

the creep seemingly finally understanding his threats backs away hands raised in innocence. "okay man, i was just kidding but whatever."

he spins around and tries to leave but not before another drunk man stumbles past mumbling about some dahlia, and knocks him to the floor.

evangeline squeezes jacks tighter hugging him, revelling in his warmth and the arms wrapped possessively around her as he watches the creepy lord tumble to the ground.

"thank you jacks," she smiles.

"we're heading home, little fox," jacks' says - more like demands - wrapping an arm around her waist and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "so no more of these uncultured idiots think that you're up for taking. when clearly you're not. because, little fox... you're mine."

[talesofadragon]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞

Summary: In the aftermath of the war, Draco is caged in an unrelenting spiral of distaste and distrust. The pervasive tendrils of hatred threaten to incinerate every aspect of his existence, edging ever closer to Y/N. A breakup seemed like the wisest choice. But a few bottles of Firewhiskey later, Draco is faced with something more daunting than his mind’s distorted illusions—a glimpse into his future. 

Warnings: Allusions to sex

Pairing: Draco x Reader

Genre: Angst | Fluff  

Word count: 4K

All Masterlists | Draco Malfoy Masterlist

𝐈𝐟 𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐤, the weight of guilt would have long since dissipated, evaporating into the vast expanse of time.

But tattoos, Draco had come to learn, lived on a polarizing spectrum—either itched by hope’s gentle caresses or marred by despair’s morbid claws. He liked to call them insignias because he knew that, either way, those brands never faded away. And even if, by Merlin’s stupendous power, their ink were to vanish, the tales behind them would eternally reverberate through the most somber corridors of time.

The choices made and the sacrifices offered in their creation were intricately woven into the curvatures of each tattoo, amplifying the weight of these indelible brands.

“Mate, I have never seen anyone treat Ogden’s Old Firewhiskey so foully.” 

Draco’s silver eyes were unyielding in their pursuit of the black snake that slithered into his pale skin. He refused to look away, not when he heard Theodore Nott’s voice and not when he reached out blindly for the silver goblet, determined to drown the lingering traces of Firewhiskey within it.

As the scorching pace of the liquid coursed through his veins, his heart constricted, and his eyes stung. Yet, he paid no heed to the discomfort, having endured far greater pains in the past.

“Maybe if you weren’t a lightweight then you would have known that the whole Slytherin House and half of the Gryffindors treat it with indignation,” Draco retorted.  

Theodore's arms crossed tightly over his chest, his gaze narrowing as he observed his best friend. Draco's weariness was evident, more pronounced than even during the days of the Dark Lord. 

Letting out a sigh of resignation, Theodore settled in the chair by Draco's side. Taking the goblet from his hand, Theodore filled it with some more Firewhiskey. “Not that I am unhappy to host you, but isn’t it time to go back home, Draco?”

Draco’s fingers tightened around the goblet. If he thought the Firewhiskey was testing his endurance, then clearly he hadn’t anticipated the words that came out of Theodore’s mouth. 

“I don’t have a home.” 

“But you do.” 

“No. I do not!” His voice ricocheted against the walls, pained echoes pushing against the boundaries that confined them. Draco’s voice shook, the rage in his words dissolving into meek submission. “Not without her.” 

“Mate.” Theodore watched helplessly as Draco swung his head back to gulp down the entire goblet of Firewhiskey. He violently slammed the empty goblet against the marble of the kitchen bar, gaze stuck far ahead. “This is killing you.” 

“Let it.” 

“Draco—”

“I should’ve died long ago in that war, Theo. Maybe this is retribution for everything I did.” 

“What retribution, you imbecile? Dooming everything you’ve both built after the war?” 

“Do not mention her,” Draco seethed. His bloodshot eyes matched the color of his soul, a violent red that overwhelmed every one of his senses. He’s hated the war for so long—he failed to realize how much it seeped through his soul until he became one himself. “I don’t want to hear it.” 

Theodore scoffed. He reared back, placing his weight on the back of the chair and studying Draco’s hunched posture. “I‘ve known you since we were brought into the Wizarding World, Draco. I know that you didn’t come here to escape the fray.” 

“What finally tipped you off, oh brilliant Rowena? Was it the way I shut down every mention of her name? Or perhaps my defensive stance and guarded demeanor?” Draco mocked.

With an air of indifference, Theodore replied, “You don’t run away from battles, Draco. You wage them.” 

“That was the old me.” 

"If that were truly the case, then why did you declare war on Y/N? What suddenly woke you up, making you realize that you couldn't bear to be with her for another second?"

A flash of irritation crossed Draco's face as he interjected, "I told you not to mention her name."

Ignoring the warning, Theodore continued with a pointed intensity. "Her name itself is a battle, Draco. One you’ve ignited because of the conflict that rages within you, fueled by your selfish desires."

"Selfish?" Draco roared, his anger escalating. In the heat of the moment, he flung the empty goblet against the wall, the sound echoing through the room. His nostrils flared as he struggled to control the tempest brewing within him. "What part of letting her go for her well-being is selfish? She deserves better, Nott. So I gave her better!"

"Better, is a subjective notion.” 

"It's the only notion," Draco countered, his composure slipping as he struggled to rein in his emotions. The veneer of false placidity he had tried to maintain for days proved futile in containing his anger. "You have no idea the price I have to pay for the blood that rests on my hand. For the mark that’s refusing to die with time.” 

“I know,” Theodore whispered breathlessly. 

Draco's head shook with a heavy burden of remorse. "No, you don’t. Because being a Death Eater's son and being a Death Eater are two separate realms. I would trade anything, everything, to return to a time when I was feared and hated. Because now, I have to watch the world extend their animosity to the only woman who was brave enough to try and pull me out of the Dark Lord’s dominion.” 

Theodore pushed himself off the chair, his movements purposeful and determined. With each deliberate stride, the distinct click of his shoes echoed against the ground. "By pushing her away. By hurling venomous words at her. By replicating the very path the world forced upon you, dragging her through darkness and uncertainty."

“She deserves better! Better than a semi-stable man who was a servant of darkness. Better than a wizard whose father is serving a sentence in Azkaban and whose mother is a victim of delirium. She deserves better—”

“Than a man who is stripping her of her choices the same way his lineage stripped him of his.” 

“No.” Draco negated. If only he hadn’t drank this much Firewhiskey, maybe his breath would have come out steadier and his words wouldn’t have grappled with conviction. “I left for her.” 

“You left her,” Theodore corrected. It always amazed Draco how Theodore Nott, the epitome of reticence, became a forceful and impassioned defender when it came to matters close to his heart, including Y/N. “You left her because you’re selfish. Because you craved your twisted path of redemption. Retribution, as you have so masterfully termed it, should not come at the expense of hurting Y/N. She fought for you with everything she had. And if you are so keen on being a masochist, Draco, then have the decency to leave her out of your descent into madness!”

With a final venomous glare, Theodore took a step back and began to march away from the room. Draco, caught in a state of disbelief, felt his hands instinctively fall upon the cool marble surface of the kitchen counter. He pressed his palms firmly against the chilled stone, desperately seeking solace from the tumultuous emotions raging within him.

In an abrupt intrusion, Theodore burst back into the room. Draco barely had a chance to meet his gaze before Theodore snatched the bottle of Firewhiskey from the counter and swiftly left. There was no doubt in Draco's mind that he must have also cast a spell to lock the cellar to deny Draco access to any and every liquor stored in the Manor. 

In that moment, Draco's vision was void of any specific color—not a glimpse of red, black, or any hue in between. His rage transcended ordinary perception, defying quantification by any shade or measurement. All that existed in his awareness was a hazy fog enveloping his sight, a world imploding upon itself.

With venomous intent, Draco's fingers slithered through his hair, viciously tugging at the strands. Curses and fury spilled from his lips, weaving a tapestry of disaster, painted with every twisted emotion inhabiting his soul.

The shattered glass before him mirrored his fractured heart, and the disarrayed furniture reflected the homelessness of his wounded spirit. If he excelled in wars and battles, then he might as well transform this space into a battleground.

He persisted for hours, tirelessly wreaking havoc until Theodore's once-familiar abode became unrecognizable. Yet, the knowledge that a mere flick of his wand could undo this chaos only fueled the flames of his fury even more.

How ironic it was that he could demolish a meaningless space in mere hours, only for his magic to effortlessly restore it in seconds. Yet, the home he had reduced to ashes remained irreparable, defying any spells he cast upon it.

With a heavy heart, Draco sank to the ground, embraced by the unforgiving coldness of the stone beneath him. Leaning back against the chilling marble, he stared vacantly at the ceiling of Theodore's dwelling. It was no longer the familiar dark maroon he had once known, but a mosaic of melancholic hues. It was in that moment, as the taste of salty tears brushed against his lips, that he realized his own hollow gaze had been the architect all along.

As his shuddered breaths gradually calmed, and the twitching of his fingers ceased, Draco couldn't help but feel his heart, exhausted from its rapid sprinting and relentless pounding against his ribs.

Standing up, he reached for his wand. "Scourgify," he commanded. Instantly, his magic eagerly clung to every surface in the room, diligently working to restore order and mend the damage he had caused.

While his magic busily repaired what he had broken, Draco made his way to the kitchen, intending to pour himself a much-needed goblet of water. As he approached the marble counter, his eyes widened in surprise at the sight of a mysterious black box neatly resting there.

“What in Merlin’s name?” It must’ve been hidden somewhere amongst the furniture because even in his stupor Draco would’ve recalled coming across it. 

Gingerly, he pulled the lid up. What he found inside was something akin to a Time Turner, along with a couple of notes. Knowing well that all those magical devices had long been destroyed, Draco’s curiosity peaked. He reached for the notes, eyes trekking along the lines of Theodore’s handwriting. 

“Temporal Surger, experimental prototype number five,” Draco read aloud. He briskly skimmed across the pages, absorbing more and more information. “Contrary to the Time Turner, the Temporal Surger springboards the wizard forward through time. Though the exact destination remains unpredictable, prototype number five provides a ten-minute window for the wizard traveling into the future.” 

Draco discarded the notes in favor of picking up the device. It didn’t look any different from the Time Turner with an hourglass in the middle and golden outer rings surrounding it. Yet, when Draco tried to nudge the hourglass, it didn’t budge. He raised his brows, eyes narrowing down to investigate the object. His fingers lingered on the rings, the pad of his index finger tracing the surface. 

Inadvertently, his fingers slipped, and the outer rings turned on themselves. Draco paid them no heed, though it became increasingly hard not to notice them when their momentum increased as they followed an unfamiliar rhythm. Draco didn’t have enough time to panic before a bright light emanated from the center of the Time Surger, engulfing him whole. 

When the light weathered, Draco immediately sprung out of his seat. Taking in his unfamiliar surroundings, he blinked twice. At first, he thought it was his broken heart playing yet another trick on him till it became evident that the Time Surger had, in fact, transported him to another place.

“Merlin’s beard, Theodore is going to murder me,” Draco said aloud. He immediately clamped a hand over his mouth when it dawned on him that he didn’t even know where he was or who was in the same vicinity as him.

Draco hardly had a moment to register his distaste for the petrifying yellow curtains and cream-colored kitchen walls before he caught the sound of leisurely footsteps approaching from his right.

He sprinted across the room, his entire body whirling around itself until he spotted, what he hoped was, a door that led him to the pantry. He rushed in but left it slightly ajar, enough for him to peek through. A crease etched itself in the middle of his forehead when his eyes met a tall man with platinum blond hair tied into a bun. 

The man was shirtless, tall, and well-built. His back was littered with scars, some seemingly thinner and more recent than the others. He moved seamlessly around the kitchen, without a wand in sight, opening draws and cabinets to prepare some food. Draco tried peering closer to catch a glimpse of his face when the sound of someone apparating startled him. 

“What is Master Malfoy doing here?” a squeaky voice asked. 

Draco’s eyes bulged out of their sockets, rivaling the size of the round plates that man had been filling with fruits. He bristled, the gears in his mind rushing to concoct an explanation. But how was he supposed to explain that he’s acquired a, possibly illegal, prototype of a Temporal Surger created by none other than his best friend?

“What does one do in a kitchen?” Draco heard himself say in a mirthful tone. He sighed in relief at the plausible answer, but his relief proved to be ephemeral when he realized that it wasn’t him who spoke. 

He widened the door a bit further, revealing a house elf standing in the kitchen, gazing up at the shirtless blond wizard. With the man's face now visible, Draco was taken aback by the striking similarities between them. The man was a slightly older version of himself.

“Blinky serves the House of Malfoy. It’s Blinky’s job to prepare breakfast for her master.” 

The house elf, Blinky, attempted to pry the spatula out of the Malfoy Patriarch's hand. He didn’t relent, keeping a firm grip on it and flipping whatever he was cooking in the sizzling pan. 

“Thank you, Blinky. I do appreciate your efforts,” he said over the elf's loud huffs. “But I wanted to cook my wife a special breakfast myself.” 

A loud gasp reverberated in the narrow space of the pantry. Draco stumbled even closer to the door, almost pushing it entirely open. His eyes widened, intently studying the Malfoy Patriarch's hand. And sure enough, a silver band adorned his ring finger, glistening in the light. 

“Mistress Malfoy has woken up?” Blinky asked in her tiny voice. They must’ve not heard Draco’s shock over the sound of whatever it was that was cooking. 

“Hmm,” the Malfoy Patriarch hummed. He had picked up a goblet from the cupboard, filling it with pumpkin juice. “Blinky, could you please get the Mistress’ favorite flowers? I’m sure she’d appreciate the gesture.” 

Squealing in excitement at fulfilling a task for her masters, Blinky apparated out of the kitchen immediately. By the time she came back with some orchids in a small, round vase, the Malfoy Patriarch had already prepared a full assortment of food. From French Croissants to Quidditch Quaffles, he set them all on a tray and merrily exited the kitchen.

Using a disillusionment charm, Draco quietly followed after his older self. He noticed that the house, or rather cottage, was significantly smaller than Malfoy Manor, yet a million times more alluring. It had a cozy and welcoming atmosphere, adorned with bright colors and pictures from his Hogwarts days. Every decorative piece, whether a vase or an ornament, seemed to have been picked with care, making it evidently known that this house was not of his choosing. Whoever his future wife was, he was sure she had to be the one to decorate the house so quaintly and delicately because he could never fill any space with such beauty.

With careful steps, Draco ascended to the upper floor, his attention fixed on each stride. The walls, still adorned in their creamy hue, now bore intricate engravings of an evocative design. The sight of verdant trees and lush bushes lining the hallway welcomed him, instilling a profound sense of tranquility within him.

The Malfoy Patriarch pushed open one of the doors and casually entered. Fortunately, he left it open, making it easier for Draco to hurry inside. He found an equally charming interior, where sunlight streamed into the room, casting a beautiful glow, while the books on the bookshelf created a colorful display like a rainbow.

In the center of the bed, a woman laid peacefully under the covers. Her entire back was exposed, making a pink tint hug Draco’s cheeks. 

The Malfoy Patriarch offered a winsome smile at the painting before his eyes. He placed the tray aside and walked to the bed, letting his thumbs trace the woman’s back.

“Angel,” he called in a soft voice. “Wake up for me.” When the woman didn’t give up her sleep, the Malfoy Patriarch bent down to plant soft kisses on her arm. They were featherlight and soft caresses as if coming out of a dream. 

She sighed heavily, turning on her back. Draco watched his older self laugh, taking this as a chance to kiss his wife’s lips. 

“Draco,” she whined. And Draco had to brace himself against the wardrobe to stop himself from falling to his knees. "Please, five more minutes."

“Y/N Malfoy, you know denying you anything is physically impossible. But I really need you to get out of bed and eat something for me. Now, my love.” 

He heard Y/N say, “Don’t want to.” And Draco’s heart squeezed in his chest because he knew that she was pouting beneath the covers, and most importantly, she was wide awake but trying to get Draco to give her a few more minutes of his attention. 

The Malfoy Patriarch pulled away, surprising Draco. He walked to the tray he had placed aside, grabbing the goblet of pumpkin juice. Y/N opened her eyes when she noticed her husband’s ministrations came to an abrupt end. She hugged the sheets to her naked chest, pouting when she saw her husband against the wall, sipping from the drink.

“This is delicious,” he teased. Y/N made a face. 

“Give it.” She held her hands out, opening and closing her palms in anticipation. Her husband diligently took the whole tray to her side, positioning it on the bed. “I hate you,” she huffed while dipping one Quidditch Quaffle in honey. 

The man in front of her beamed, shaking his head. “You must hate me fiercely, angel. Your ardor set my soul ablaze a million times over yesterday night. And I've got marks on my back to prove it.” 

Both Y/N and Draco choked at the heat that permeated the air. Y/N’s gaze meandered across the room, trying to escape the heat of her husband’s scintillating eyes. 

“Well, you set mine ablaze a million times over every day, Draco! Go put a shirt on instead of teasing me!” Y/N grunted while reaching for the goblet. 

The Malfoy Patriarch’s laugh roared within the four walls of the room, and even Draco had to cover his mouth to avoid laughing at her retort. 

“Is my wife looking forward to dessert already?” 

Y/N let out a sound that was both a whine and a sigh. She pushed the tray aside and reared back, burying her body in the pile of pillows on her bed. Her husband laughed, studying her pout. Her hands rested on her stomach, and if Draco hadn’t been shocked to his core before, he was baffled at the sight of Y/N cradling a very noticeable baby bump. 

“Draco, please.” 

“Please what, angel?” 

“Not that! You know if we do that now we won’t get out of bed for another three hours!” 

“Would it be such—”

“Yes!” Y/N interjected. She looked like an angry little pixie with her narrowed eyes and pointed glare. “It would. Because we have so much to do today.” She went on to explain that she and Narcissa were supposed to meet for tea in the afternoon and that Draco had to finish setting up the nursery. Y/N kept on listing everything they had to do while her husband intently listened without saying a single word. Instead, he watched her, letting one of his hands wander to her stomach and cover hers. “What are you thinking?” Y/N finally asked, coming to grasp with the realization that her husband had zoned out. 

He didn’t answer at first, noticeably lost in his wife’s beauty. “I’m not thinking. I’m feeling.” 

Y/N let out a semi-laugh. “What are you feeling, Draco?” 

“You,” he replied solemnly. He interlaced their fingers together, keeping their intertwined hands on her belly. “Time and time again, I only feel you.” 

“Dray.” Y/N’s expression softened. She tugged on her husband’s hand, and even though she had lamented that they couldn’t stay in bed for long, she let him pull her to his chest while he made himself comfortable on their bed. “I love you.” 

“I love you so much.” It was Draco who said it. With teary eyes and a battered soul, he surrendered to the images of his older self caressing Y/N’s lips and her cheeks. 

“I love both of my girls. And I only hope our little princess can learn to love me despite all my flaws.”

Y/N shot her husband an indignant look, her gaze filled with disapproval. However, a hint of tenderness softened her eyes, conveying a complex mix of emotions. 

“She does.” 

“How do you know?” 

“She's currently expressing her displeasure at your words by stirring up a commotion inside my belly.” 

“Oh, yeah?” the Malfoy patriarch laughed. He tightened his hold on Y/N and pulled her even closer. One hand on her belly and the other in her hair, he peered down at her and locked his silver eyes with hers. “She’s a tornado, like her mother.” 

Y/N chose not to respond, embracing a peaceful silence instead while staring at her husband. He arched an eyebrow in a silent question. “I’m feeling,” Y/N spoke out. “Time and time again, I only feel you.” 

While her husband's gaze fixated on her lips, inching closer to his own, Draco's attention was abruptly seized by the Time Surger stirring once more. His eyes dropped downward, observing the rings spinning autonomously. 

Torn between stealing a final glimpse and safeguarding the precious moment, Draco reluctantly withdrew from the room. Hastening his steps, he hurriedly exited, stealing one last glance at his future self tenderly pulling the sheet away from Y/N's body until a blinding light dissolved the scene. 

The curtain fell, and he found himself back in Theodore's living room. 

Draco struggled to catch his breath, hurriedly placing the Temporal Surger back inside its box. His restless eyes darted across the room, overwhelmed by the torrent of emotions surging through him, dragging him deeper into the abyss. Gasping for air, his head whipped around, desperately trying to make sense of his surroundings.

His eyes landed on the box, the notes still outside. Future, he read in Theodore’s perfect handwriting. 

“Nott, you knobhead. If you were here right now, I would have kissed you with such intensity time would stop. And even your stupidly brilliant Temporal Surger wouldn’t have worked.” 

The numbness of his heart dissipated, and the crippling guilt roaming across his forearm vanished. Draco breathed deeply, embracing the placidity around him. Maybe Theodore’s walls were grim compared to the ones his future self occupied. Yet all Draco could feel was the warmth of Y/N’s voice and the tranquility of the mornings they were yet to share. 

He rushed to Theodore’s fireplace, not bothering to fix himself up. Tossing a handful of Floo Powder into the fireplace, Draco finally spoke aloud. “Take me to Y/N Y/L/N.” 

He finally realized that whether time turned or surged, he and Y/N Y/L/N were bound by a string of fate that was unyielding in its war against the Sands of Time.

------------------

Draco Taglist:

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I have been wanting to write this one for a while! Feels good to be writing again for our favorite Slytherin!🪄

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