#its just that i no longer really want to write the wedding and its a pretty major thing to just skip over

[botanicallyinclinednerd]

I miss writing for Merlin, I wish I had the motivation to sit down and continue writing the Immortal Sir Leon au

[predestinatos]

you mean everything - MV1 ೀ⋆｡🌷

summary: max needed a wedding date and you were used to being his fake partner.

tags: max verstappen x fem!reader, fake dating, friends to lovers, max is so whipped, fluff, a bit angsty maybe?, mentions of alcohol

word count: 2k

notes: i've been writing (and thinking) so much about max... my period is coming please give me a break i'm sensitive. also would love to get some feedback if possible so i know if it's worth making a series out of this!!!!

"If you want to make it believable at least hold my hand" you half-whispered to Max, who was buttoning his blazer while getting out of the car, you behind him.

"Sorry, I'm not used to this with you" he said chuckling. His sweaty palm held yours tightly, and the feeling of it was odd. Knowing Max for so long meant that these romantic gestures felt almost cringeworthy to you both, and you both had to put up award winning performances every time you played this game.

The game in question being fake-dating. It started as a funny joke where you both thought it would be great to test out the Get A Champagne Bottle For Free At This Restaurant If You Propose theory (which worked, by the way). From then onwards, you used each other as dates whenever asked by annoying family members, creepy coworkers, or just because you felt like lying.

The talking wasn't hard - you both felt comfortable in that part, lying with words coming off almost dangerously natural - but when it came to acting the part, both of you felt awkward, like kids who found relationships absolutely repulsive.

This time, though, the performance would last longer than usual: it was a wedding. Max's friend's wedding. Max could've just gone along, or bring a friend (even you as a friend). Yet he had told his friend, after one too many shots on his Bachelor's Party, and after being chosen as The Guy Who'll Take the Longest to Settle, that he had, in fact, a girlfriend. His friends didn't believe him, so he showed a picture of you two together - a selfie really, nothing much. And they still said they didn't believe it. So here you are.

You couldn't blame him, even if you wanted to. You agreed to use each other as a fake partner for as long as you could in as many situations as required, although when it all started none of you ever thought it would lead to wedding attendances.

So now there you were, Max's hand on yours, entering the small church. His eyes locked with the groom, who waved and called for you to sit near the altar.

"So you ARE real" he said, nervousness laced in his voice even as he tried to lighten the mood himself. You giggled at the irony of it, nodding as you said your congratulations.

"Just wait until the guys see this" he continued gesturing towards the bench where 3 other men around his age sat. Men you had seen before in some Instagram pictures, men you spent the previous night trying to memorize basic information about so you didn't sound suspicious.

Max's hand now fell on your waist almost instinctively - it wasn't instinctively, he told himself once he noticed its positioning. And if it was, it was only because he took this so seriously, almost as a sort of method acting. Sitting down next to his friends, he noticed how all of them seemed surprised at your presence, and something like pride filled his chest. He loved winning, loved being right even if he was lying; but most especially, he loved how jealous other men seemed to be over the fact that he was (at least in their minds) dating you.

He couldn't deny - though he tried, really - that you two looked good together. His rougher features mixed with your softer ones gave you both an aura of near unreachability, which yes, was pretentious of him to think but he thought nevertheless.

The ceremony was quick and endearing, a smile spread across everyone's faces at the shared loved between the bride and the groom. As the crowd clapped, Max leaned into you, "don't tell me you're crying". "I am, just to think that I'll have to keep pretending to date YOU for the next 10 hours" you replied, his mocking smile recognizing the joke.

The reception hall was beautifully decorated with shades of soft green and violet orchids. Max tried not to think about how much it matched the shade of your dress, how you looked like you had come to life from a classical novel. He tried to feel like anyone but Mr. Darcy as you felt so much like Elisabeth Bennett to him.

Sitting down next to him, you found this part easier - mingling and socializing was something you enjoyed more than he did - especially with alcohol in the mix. It's a wedding, you thought; this is what weddings are for.

So you drank the wine with the main course and sipper champagne to celebrate and ordered a few cocktails when it was time to dance and talk - and you felt it on your body almost as much as you felt Max's hand occasionally sitting on your thigh, but not even close to how strongly you felt his thumb caress your skin as he did so. Truth was, he too was drunk; his eyes looked smaller and his cheeks were flushed, and the amount of times he ran a hair through his dirty blonde hair had caused it to look messier. As you looked at him, you felt he never looks as attractive as when he is like this - loose and carefree, his shirt sleeves rolled up and a smile on his face when he notices people laugh at his joke.

"I have to admit I didn't think it was true" his friend said when Max left to go to the bathroom. He looked drunker than the two of you combined, his words hard to decypher, like a riddle. "He's been talking about you for months now and we never saw you for real so we thought you didn't exist" he laughed, and you laughed back before it registered.

"Months?" you asked him, eyebrows furrowed yet attempting to remain composed. You shouldn't have asked it - a supposedly month old girlfriend wouldn't be surprised but you were his fake month old girlfriend and you weren't understanding it anymore.

"Yeah. He talks about you so much all the time I think even we started to date you" he laughed again, yet this time you didn't find the joke so funny. You were frozen in your seat, merely blinking as if trying to put the confusing puzzle together, the pieces not quite fitting the way you thought they would.

A touch on your shoulder unfroze you, almost like magic, like a disney film come to life. You turned around to find the groom, somewhat sober, smiling at you while also looking somewhat concerned. "He's calling for you... And he's also absolutely wasted" he said, pointing to the door of the hall.

"Shit" you cursed, getting up from your seat at a speed you couldn't believe, worry filling your heart, making you forget the conversation you were just having.

Opening the door to the garden outside, you found Max sitting down against the wall, shirt partly unbuttoned and disheveled hair. When he saw you, he grinned, such genuine happiness laced with tipsiness.

"Lightweight" you mocked as you crouched in front of him, trying to balance yourself on your heels, somehow managing it despite your own drunkness.

"You're laughing at my mis- Shit- my misery" his throat bobbed up and down, exaggerating his own agony with a hand on his chest and another on his forehead like a Shakespeare character.

"I have to admit it's quite fun sometimes" you bit your lip as you fixed his hair as best as you could, hands brushing through its soft, blonde mess.

"You're so– you're so sweet" he said, his words dragged and messy. He brought a beer bottle to his lips but you stopped him before any liquid touched them.

"I think that's enough of that for tonight" you grabbed it and placed it behind you, sitting in front of him.

"See now... Now you're being mean" his hand grabbed a strand of your hair and played with it softly as he pouted.

"Okay big boy I'm gonna get you some water" you say, getting up once again, yet his hand stops you, grabbing your wrist tightly.

You looked at him, startled. His drunken state is visible, and it felt frustrating that you had to be the one sobering up for him. The music vibrated through the wall he leaned against, somehow tickling him, making him giggle.

"Stay," he managed to say, eyes half closed, "I'm so glad we're- Fuck things are spinning so much" his hands rushed to his eyes and his head hung low, "Ah fuck. I'm so glad we're datin- Fuck, no, oops-" he continued laughing despite how sick he felt, the whole situation sounding hilarious when filtered through alcohol.

You giggled along with him, mostly because you wanted to see if you could convince him to move, scared he might feel worse or pass out on the cold floor if he doesn't do so. "Fake dating. Fake dating, I know. I knowww" he continued, his words dragged and his finger pointing at you before poking your nose with such innocent sweetness you were taken aback.

"Max" you tried to sound more assertive but found it hard to do so, your own intoxicated state making the situation lighter than what it actually was. Your heart racing was a symptom of it, one you wouldn't feel if sobriety was an option, you thought. Max's eyes wouldn't seem to stare at you differently were he sober as well, and the way he scanned your features, his gaze staying on your lips for longer than expected, wouldn't affect you in the slightest had you not drank some alcohol.

"I like it when you say my name" he looked up at you innocently, pleading, almost.

"Want me to say it again?" you asked, smiling. You complied with these demands because you knew they were childish whims of an intoxicated man, his happiness a priority in times like these. Upon his nod, you started saying his name, half teasingly, half reassuringly, the leaves rustling in the garden behind you.

"Max... Max!! Max Max-"

He shouldn't. It would complicate things, and he liked when they were simple, clean and organized. He knew he shouldn't even when his whole vision spun and his brain convinced him that he should do things he would never do otherwise. But every time he refrained from saying something he would stumble across all his words and trip and fall and his head would only hurt more, and it seemed as if he could only focus if he kept listening to you and talking to you and looking at you.

The lights shone behind you in a way that made it feel as though he was dreaming, like you were a mirage, too good to be true. Maybe his friends were right - you weren't actually real. He wanted to be sure, in that moment. That you were real and that he wanted you as much as he thought. And though he shouldn't, though it was a terrible idea, he couldn't help but lean over to kiss you.

He tasted like champagne - bubbly and slightly sweet, his movements sloppy given his state, yet you couldn't help but drink it all in. Part of you - a big part - reciprocated the kiss, felt his fingers on the side of your neck, pulling you messily towards him, and tried to steady him, guiding him gently with your own lips.

It was odd, how this felt so right yet the fake hand holding didn't. As Max kissed you, that thought entered his clouded mind - did it feel wrong because it was fake and this was real? Your skin felt so soft, so much softer now he could touch it freely and unapologetically.

"Fuck-" he started, pulling away, his head resting against the wall once again as he stared at you, noticing how it hasn't hit you yet; what you just did, how it affected everything. "I fucking love you" he shrugged as you fixed your hair, pausing with arms raised for a few seconds before smiling softly.

"You're drunk" you replied, looking at his own grin, the gleam in his eyes making him appear both innocent and guilty of so many things.

"I'm drunk and I fucking love you"

"Max..." you started, and he said your name back to you with such tenderness you couldn't believe his lips tasted of alcohol earlier and not something sweet.

"We'll talk tomorrow, okay?" you continued, waiting for the silence to swallow you both.

[aixeko]

Hi good evening, morning or afternoon Aixeko. I was wondering if you could write an intersex Arlecchino x fem reader who spend their wedding night on the beach.

𓆩♡𓆪 “ DID I DREAM THAT WE DANCED FOREVER,

in a wish that we made together, on a night that I prayed would never end ” 𓆩♡𓆪

| Starring | Newly-wed Intersex-Service-Top!Arlecchino x Pillow princess?Reader

| Setting | Wedding night on the beach

| Scenario |  [ REQUESTED WORK | SHORT FIC ] SMUT! With tooth rotting fluff. Pronouns are not used, only female anatomy is used. The children call the reader by the title “Mother.” Soft Arle. Skinny dip. Semi-Public love making. Aftercare. So fluffy it’s making me barf rainbow. Arle is mainly referred to as Peruere. Not really proofread.

► RADIO CHANNEL [Author note]

× My first request, had to prioritize this first over my current w.i.p arle fic lmao × This also reminded me of my first fic of Arle, which is the "Peruere" one, it's exactly how I imagine their wedding was like 🥹 Perhaps those who read it can take it as a little prequel to the fic × Anyway, I assumed you wanted smut from the intersex Arle part so here it is, no angst which is surprising. Hope you enjoy <3

[ Word count: 2240 ] | Art credit: Nuiilar on Twitter

The harmonious voices of the children's choir sound through the velvety night sky, their melodic tones blending in perfect unison with the tender moment unfolding before their very eyes. At the sight of their father dipping their mother for an intimate kiss, the children can't help but be sent into fits of gleeful excitement, ending their synchronized orchestration.

You all but chuckled at the audible jubilation; you could practically hear their eyes sparkling with enchantment as they cheered and clapped upon witnessing such a rare affectionate display between their parents. Even after the mandatory altar kiss, the kids were still bubbling over with joy, perhaps influenced by such an intense, delightful air of love.

The kiss lingered, time seemingly freezing in tune as if the world melted and revolved around you, suspending this tender moment to an everlasting core memory in a sea of recollection. Yet, with much reluctance, you were the first to break the magical spell laid upon her lips, pulling away despite your heart's yearning to savor the embrace just a little longer. After all, you were still in the presence of your children; you wouldn't want the situation to escalate to something much too inappropriate in a public setting.

You sense a slight disappointment from Arlecchino as your eyes open to absorb one another's souls once more. The edge of your lip twitches upward into a knowing smile, and Arlecchino, who notices it, can only shake her head in infinitesimal embarrassment at her sudden need to be as impossibly close as she can be to you.

You lean in close, hot breath trickling against her pierced earlobe as you whisper, "Quite eager are we now, my dearest, Peruere?"

Your voice is laced with playful teasing, yet your vocals do not reciprocate the soul; your body, betraying your hypocritical saying with the factuality of reality being that every fiber of your being is aching with desire for her; you can practically hear your heart racing like a dog off its leash, a clear evidence of your struggle to contain the passion that threatens to consume you whole.

The laughter in your throat burst out of its confinement as you saw a tint of red painting her cheeks. The infamous Knave, Arlecchino, the fourth of the Fatui Harbinger, a woman of near godly power and the Father of the House of the Hearth, whose shyness is one of a thousand lifetimes' worth of rarity, has fallen prey to your shenanigans. Despite the silliness of it all, a warmth envelops your heart in gratitude for having a chance to live in a lifetime where she, whose heart is covered in frost, can blaze in your presence.

The discordant atmosphere slowly faded to one of a gentle breeze, the moon rising to its fullest, symbolizing the dead of the night, where beauty arises in the silence of humanity. Under its moonlit gaze, you drag Arlecchino with you, grinning and laughing like the carefree days when the world was a simpler, less complicated place, one in which your shared young minds felt like their rulers.

Footprints imprint the sand, lasting mere seconds before being washed away by the shore like those traces have simply never existed. Reaching what seems to be the midway point of the enormous coastline, you release your hold on your lover to dance a few inches away, allowing your body to embrace nature's hug.

You let out a sigh of contentment, letting your arm remain outstretched while your eyes linger on the moon. A smile creeps upon your face at the familiarity of such a scene, more specifically the one who illustrates it similarly.

"The moon is beautiful, isn't it?" You questioned, turning to look at her with closed-eyed grins.

Arlecchino—Peruere, who had not once settled her gaze on where your perspective retained the attention of nods in agreement. Because once the world was obstructed by its blind spot, she had surveyed its scenery and details like an ancient book lost in the depths of falsehood. She had watched her world countless times, wondering how she had been so fortunate to stumble upon such treasure. How can someone like you allow someone like her to take your hand in a marriage vowed to withstand beyond life and death?

"My dear Pierre, are you alright? You seem to be in a daze of sorts."

Half worried and half-amused, you made your way to her, pressing a palm against her forehead to check if the woman had contracted a fever, knowing full well it was rare for such a thing to occur.

"My enchantress, had you not satiated yourself enough with this relentless amorousness?"

Arlecchino's words have you in light giggles; you had not intended for her to feel seduced by you, but it seems your obliviousness has added fuel to the caged flame since the next thing you can render is her lips against yours.

You're left stunted for a while before finally, your body relaxes within her embrace, returning her eager kiss with equal ferocity. You can feel the air in your lungs being drained lifelessly out of its source as if a vampire has wrapped its sharp fangs around your frail neck. You struggle to keep up with the intoxicating atmosphere, trying desperately to chase after her momentum while still maintaining a semblance of control to leave oxygen for breathing.

"Per—peruere—" You choked between the small gap of the kiss, barely allowing even a whisper; no longer are you able to stand in the same balance as hers.

Her ears luckily picked up on your pleas, and immediately she pulled away, allowing you to inhale and exhale in rapid motion in the sudden presence of oxygen once more. She's apologetically whispering countless expressions of regret to the point where her mother tongue and dialect slip into the mixture.

"No—no, it's okay. I-I'm fine now, just... I didn't expect you to be so pent up." 

At your own words, your eyes linger on the bottom half of her body, your point being proven further by the observation of the large bulge that is threatening to be released from confinement. Arlecchino didn't say anything, either out of shame or at a loss for words in the situation that she let advance despite her usual meticulous calculation of actions.

You mentally estimated the distance and the time that would be wasted in making your way to the resort and decided that the sea was much closer.

"Shall we dive into the sea? You look like you require some cooling, do you not, Peruere?"

You speak of teasing remarks whose tone is masked by an innocent facade, making sure to emphasize your point by allowing your body to press up close against her tall, defined stature, an arm around her neck, and another palming the growing arousal. Arlecchino finally registers the escalation of the situation and opts to play along with this little game of yours.

"We shall, my bride."

Without a moment of hesitation or an added explanation, your lover brought your lips against hers, all the while undressing you with practiced ease. You didn't protest her actions, mirroring them by both the kiss and the clothes, which were tossed to who knows where, but amidst the mayhem, you deliberately saved the most anticipated removal, her pants, for last to savor the tense sexual air a little longer.

The moment you have your hands on her zipper, Arlecchino lifts you by the knees, causing a gasp of shock to escape from your swollen lips. This moment of withdrawal allows you to see that she has not worn boxers the whole time and how truly ravenous her cock is with the way it stands tall, twitching.

She carries you into the cold water, and once inside, she leads you to a boulder, remaining silent throughout. This leaves you speechless, your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth, partly from a lack of words and partly from the freezing temperature.

"All talks with a lackluster action to speak for, and yet you still refuse to commence your needs when necessary; you have not changed once since we were kids."

Fiery energy erupted from Arlecchino's hands, casting a flame not strong enough to scorch you but one that emits gentle warmth throughout the cool surroundings. The burning fire danced harmlessly, its soft glow illuminating the dark space, creating an inviting scenery in contrast to the abyssal one. It paints your features with luminosity; such radiation makes both of your details more prominent for one another's enjoyment.

"Mn, sorry, love, it seems old habits die hard," you whisper, now in a much raspier and softer tone due to the recent past event that conspired.

This time, you take the initiative and lean in for a kiss. What sets this moment apart from the others in spite of the short range of time is that this is driven by a pure, heartfelt love that comes from the very core of your being—and you can tell it is the same situation for Peruere.

Through lidded eyes, you pull away slightly to consent to her entrance. "Go ahead, Pierre. I'm sure it's starting to hurt, and worry not; I promise you that I will mention any sort of discomfort," you murmur, your voice low with reassurance.

Peruere is hesitant as she presses you lightly against the smooth boulder—not that she doesn't have faith in your words—quite the opposite, really. She wouldn't admit it to you, but whenever it comes to lovemaking, the woman is absolutely restless; having you so close and so vulnerable is a core memory everlasting in her heart, yet she's afraid that one day she might accidentally hurt you in some way, somehow, pathetic, isn't it? She is so deeply in love with you that any brute force against you could practically kill her as well.

It wasn't until you pressed a soothing kiss against her temple that she obliged and inserted her throbbing member inside you, starting slow with just the tip. Regardless, a pleasured whimper betrayed your will, excitement coursing through your veins at her entry. This singular expression of enjoyment is all it takes for Peruere to continue, and sure enough, the full length of her consumes your wall like a perfect piece dug through a pile of unmatched pieces in a puzzle.

You arch your back, a hand covering your eyes as she begins to fasten the pace of thrust, a clear sign of a soon-to-be thrilling momentum and a now comfortable adjustment to a once ocean of anxiety.

"Ah...! Mmm... Just like that, Peruere—" Your voice hitched at the sudden intrusion of her mouth against your neck and the tip of her member pressing on your g-spot.

She elevates you higher against the stone, allowing her to be in position for a deeper reach within your core; meanwhile, her free hand uses its thumb to rub against your clitoris, and the added love marks all over your neck and collarbone have your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

It was only a matter of time before your body felt the sensitivity of the stimulation at its maximum, followed by a quickened heart rate, capricious breathing flow, and tension in the muscles around the pelvic area. Clear symptoms of your upcoming climax.

"Peruere—Please, Oh Archons! ... Don't stop!" You cry, practically clawing her back.

Peruere follows with your desperate plea, allowing her to do what she is best at by hitting your g-spot at the precise time, and she is quick to swallow your moans with a feverish kiss as you come to your long-awaited, blissful orgasm.

She keeps her cock inside, thrusting at a gentle and slow speed to prolong your enjoyment in exchange for her own needs. When you come back to your senses, your energy is practically nonexistent, at which point you feel guilt forming when you realize you won't be able to return her pleasure. Sensing your worries, she plants a kiss on your ear, whispering sweet nothings to ease your blameworthiness.

"Stress is not good for the heart, little dove. My pleasure does not account for the one I am rewarded with by seeing you in euphoria; now do not taint this moment with sorrow. Rest now; I will deal with everything."

A small smile curves at the edges of your mouth, a mental note in the back of your mind forming to thank her for this moment later. Safe and content with her, you fall prey to your exhaustion, resting in utter peace without worries, knowing your Peruere is here to protect you from the accursed world.

꧁ᬊᬁ𓆰𓆪ᬊ᭄꧂

When Arlecchino is sure you're comfortable and clean, she finally decides to take care of herself and opts to go for simple nightwear.

She sits on the edge of the bed, a tender expression consuming her face at your moonlit features in such tranquility. Even when you are not conscious, she still feels as if she is protected just by being near your presence, as if away from the judgment of the world where no name of the Knave or Arlecchino is mentioned, a world in which she is only known as Peruere by her one true soulmate.

Peruere, who grew up with nothing, finally has everything she ever wanted.

Arlecchino slips in under the cover, her arms engulfing your body in a protective cocoon.

With you,

Peruere has a reason to live. 

► RADIO CHANNEL [ Author note ] × Am I slick? No, not all.

[81folklore]

dress - VETTEL

pairings: sebastian vettel x famous!reader (fc: taylor swift)

summary: its known that seb has been married for a few years now despite the public never seeing is wife, its also known that yn is in a committed relationship and has been since she disappeared from public eye. maybe they are more connected than people realise

authors note: i have had this idea on my mind for SO LONG so im very pleased to finally be writing it. essentially in this, yn is taylor and seb is joe but no one has ever seen him nor know his name, if that makes sense? honestly i have no clue how this will turn out but i needed to write it

authors note 2: this is set in the midnights era however i switched the songs a bit so ‘dress’ is on midnights instead of ‘sweet nothing’ and vice versa!! also ‘dress’ is going to be a single. i also apologize for how all over the place this is, especially the tweets

authors note 3: just pretend whatever says taylor swift says your name and the photos with her hands have a wedding ring!! i also got so confused when trying to screenshot the twitter stuff so the timeline ones are backwards

authors note 4??: haha didnt realise there was a 30 pic limit... pt 2 here :)

masterlist

ynupdates

liked by user3, user18 and 10,628 others

yn on her story today, possibly posting song lyrics! thoughts?

view comments

user3: NEW ERA INCOMING

user18: OH I AM SO READY FOR THIS

user13: NEW MUSIC NEW MUSIC

user66: is this hinting at her reputation era?

user13: i was just thinking this, more specifically the time just before reputation

user72: MUSIC ABOUT LOVER?? OH I AM SO HERE FOR IT

user55: if it is about lover and the time before reputation this will BREAK ME like,, HE SAW THE BEST IN HER EVEN IN HER WORST TIMES😭😭

yourusername

liked by gracieabrams, ynupdates, olliebearman and 7,277,739 others

everyone thinks that they know us, but they know nothing about…

this album has been such a rewarding piece to create and im so glad that soon enough you will all be able to listen and enjoy it with me! one thing i love in particular about this album is the song ‘dress’

dress was originally a piece i started to write when making reputation however i felt it was right to keep it to myself, to keep it between my partner and i for a little while longer. however recently our lives have been changing for the better, and while that lid of privacy will still be on, i want to share more with you guys

you have all been on this journey with me and you have treated my partner and i with the upmost respect and for that i thank you. for me dress is a letter, its statement, its a declaration of my love for him and im very grateful to be able to give this to you all

this song is one im very proud of, i really enjoyed writing this the first time, and getting to revist and polish it up felt very special to do.

dress out now on all platforms🖤

comments on this post have been limited

sebupdates

liked by user34, user5, user88 and 23,683 others

seb in suzuka with the grid at his turn 2 bee (insect) hotels,, we've missed seeing him at the track :(

view comments

user3: of course the grid come together for him :’)

user5: im not crying!! just hay fever!!

user5: oh i have missed him SO MUCH

user7: NO BECAUSE YOU DONT GET IT HES BACK

user88: DID YOU GUYS SEE THE VIDEO OF HIM HUGGING CHARLES😭😭

user34: the way he was like a teacher throughout the whole thing😭

user18: does anyone know if hes staying the whole weekend or is it like monaco??

sebupdates: we believe hes staying the whole weekend but unsure if hes with a team or not!

user18: ok thank you :)

user77: the way the first thing lewis asked him was if his wife was okay, oh what if i cry😭😭

user66: im kind of new here, have the grid met sebs wife?

user77: i know they all at least know about her and know who she is, i dont think everyone has met her but i know lewis has met her quite a bit!!

part 2!

[houserautha]

These Destined Ends

Part 7

Summary: Jessica fulfilled the wishes of the Bene Gesserits to produce a daughter. You’re now burdened with the task of not only marrying the na-Baron, but also bearing his child — the Kwisatz Haderach. Will you take your fate into your own hands? Or will it always belong to those who control you?

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings: depictions of killing/death, a blood oath, oral sex f receiving, fingering, edging, dirty talk, p in v, no protection, breeding/pregnancy kink, creampie kind of

A/N: I hear wedding bells🎉 This took me a hot second to write up and edit, but it's also a little bit longer than I usually post. I hope you enjoy💕

Sleep evades you. The day of your wedding slips in uninvited, a wash of sunlight to chase away the shadows from your room. The bed is empty. Feyd-Rautha hasn’t returned or, at least, hasn’t visited you since.

You convince yourself that you don’t care.

But still your thoughts stray traitorously to him — where he is, what he’s doing, what he’s thinking and if it’s of you.

You stare out at the Grand Arena. It’s more or less attached to the Harkonnen fortress and, to your understanding, typically reserved for political rallies. It’s the only place large enough to host a wedding where the entire planet is invited, though, plus the added benefits of its close proximity.

A platform has been erected and already citizens are filing into their stadium-style seats despite the early hour. They will wait all day to sit front row at the marriage between House Atreides and House Harkonnen. A historic event, you realize with detached clarity. To be remembered for generations to come.

This does nothing to quell your roiling stomach.

You turn at the sound of your bedroom doors opening, hope lifting stupidly in your chest. Because it is not Feyd-Rautha who enters, but Lady Jessica.

She looks more radiant than ever, though you suspect this partially has to do with the time apart that you’ve spent.

“Mother?”

Perhaps your lack of rest has warped your vision.

Jessica smiles softly, confirming both your deepest fear and most shameful want. “Daughter.”

For the first time in your life, you run to her. She embraces you, cradling your face into her neck. She smells like home and the memory of Caladan has you blinking back tears. “Why are you here?”

“Did you really think we would miss your wedding?” Jessica brushes your hair back. “They are treating you well? You haven’t responded to any of our correspondences.”

“They are treating me well,” you tell her. You can’t help but think of Feyd-Rautha’s lips on your skin, between your legs, but quickly dismiss it. “And I haven’t received any correspondences.”

“Mm, as I suspected. Your father thought that you might be too busy to write but I knew better.”

“He’s here, too?”

“Of course.” Your mother presses something cold and metallic into your palm, curls your fingers around it. “I wanted to give you this.”

You frown. After closer inspection, you realize that it’s a necklace. Simple, elegant, with a thin silver chain and delicate pendant. “What is this?”

“I wore it when I first met your father. Although we are not married, our relationship has obviously grown past that of an arranged partnership. I can only hope you find similar happiness.” She pauses then, examining you. “I know you are aware that your birth was…orchestrated. But that does not change our love for you. You are our greatest treasure, Y/N.”

Your mood falters, slipping from between your fingers and shattering on the ground like glass. “This is a fertility necklace.”

“Yes,” Jessica says, dipping her chin.

You have the overwhelming sense to grind the necklace under your heel. The tears in your eyes now belong there for an entirely different reason.

“I thought you came here today to support me but instead you’re just carrying out your Bene Gesserit schemes,” you hiss. A dry laugh rattles in your throat. “I’m such a fool! You don’t care for me. You only care about what I can provide. My whole life, everything has been for them. Everything.”

Jessica’s jaw clenches. “That’s not true.”

Aggravated, you spin on her, teeth bared. “Then tell me you came here today of your volition.”

Jessica holds your gaze but does not reply.

“I knew it,” you all but snarl at her.

“I thought these past few months would’ve opened your eyes to your potential, the importance of your duty,” Jessica snarls back, matching your viciousness. “But still you are blind to the truth. You blatantly refuse to accept a plan that has been in effect for centuries. Ten thousand years of deliberate planning and you act as if you are here as punishment. You are living proof of the Bene Gesserit’s power, Y/N.”

Chest heaving, you shutter your raging emotions. “Leave me.”

“That’s no way to speak to your mother.”

“I speak to you not as a daughter,” you retort, “but as the na-Baroness of House Harkonnen. And seeing that you are nothing but a concubine to the Duke, I demand that you leave.”

You know that with The Voice, Jessica could force you to bend to her will, to do any inexplicable amount of things. But she does not. She stands there, wavering, before striding back from which she came from without another word.

You hide the fertility necklace in the pot of a synthetic plant, and no one is the wiser when they come to prepare you. For the servants this is a joyous occasion and you do not want to dampen their enthusiasm. You mask your growing unease, laughing and joking with the girls as they recreate you into the image of na-Baroness.

“You look stunning,” Asha tells you privately. There’s quite some time before the ceremony starts, and she’s pulled you into a quiet corner of the room. “The na-Baron isn’t going to know what to do with himself.”

Oh, you very much doubt that. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.

Your wedding dress is a subtle combination of both Atreides and Harkonnen culture, a blend of elegance and functionality.

The dress itself is made from a lightweight, flexible material that mimics the look of metallic plates. Featuring overlapping panels that creates a segmented, scale-like effect, the bodice gives the illusion of Harkonnen armor. But the skirt, full and flowing, is entirely Atreides — layers of fabric cascading to the floor. Small, metallic accents line the hem that shimmer with your every step.

And, completing the look, a headpiece that forms a sort of M over your forehead and down your cheeks, adorn with jewels.

You bite down on the inside of your cheek. “Have you seen him today? The na-Baron.”

“No, I haven’t. Why?”

“No reason.”

Asha’s mouth quirks teasingly. “Are you nervous?”

“No,” you say, too quickly, “well, yes. But not because of him, because of the ceremony. This will be my first time in front of Giedi Prime.”

“They will adore you,” Asha says. She waves a hand flippantly. “And if not, then your husband will have their heads.”

You grin. “I suppose that’s comforting.”

“Of course it is.” She squeezes your hand.

Your moment with Asha passes as you’re both pulled back into the revelries — spice-laden champagne, food that looks suspiciously like harvested organs, and the pounding, ear-splitting music that’s popular among the Harkonnens. By the time you’re called for the ceremony, your mood has lifted significantly, almost enough to make you forget that you’re the reason for celebration. It’s a sobering reminder.

Your heart threatens to burst from your chest. From inside the walls of the fortress, the roar of the crowd crests and falls like a tidal wave sent to sweep you away. The corridor is alive with mumbled conversation. A procession will precede you to the altar — noblemen and the likes, your parents, who you avoid — along with your betrothed, who is nowhere in sight. The gathered members of your bridal party shift and part, panic seizing you with white-knuckled fingers as the Baron maneuvers toward you.

He greets you with a saying repeated to you many times that day, one that after several iterations you’ve come to understand means, “May your death be swift in battle”.

How it relates to marriage, you are too nervous to inquire about.

“What a wonderful day,” he muses in a rasping lilt. “It would be a pity for someone to ruin it.”

“Indeed,” you reply, eyes narrowing.

“You understand the importance of the ceremony, don’t you?” You don’t respond, sensing that he will tell you nevertheless. “This is just one more step for Feyd-Rautha toward taking my place as Baron. How the ceremony goes will influence his standing with his people.”

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes. Of course this was just another political move. What did he think you would do, riot in the middle of the ceremony? You retort, “I understand.”

“Welcome to the family, Y/N.”

The chill that brushes down your spine, seeping into your bones, is deterred by the sudden clash of a gong. War drums erupt in tumultuous exalt. The very sound of them resonates deep within you, invoking a primal response of adrenaline, as if your body is preparing you for battle.

Which, you suppose is fitting.

And who else to be summoned by the promise of war then Feyd-Rautha.

He enters the room as he always does, commanding the attention of everyone in it. The effect is only amplified today, though, in his polished ceremonial armor and resolute intensity, a heady combination of brutality and valiancy.

Gazing at him us purifying fire, searing you from the inside out, and you take your time charting the unholy beauty of his face, gazing back at you with terrifying reverence.

In that moment, you possess no past or future — there is only him. An eternal now.

And then he steps past you and into the black sun, exultant, thrusting the knife above his head.

A championing cheer follows, impossibly louder than the thunder of the drums. Feyd-Rautha lingers and something in your chest expands at the sight of him dwelling in their approval, their admiration, somehow transcendent of any humanity he manages to have.

He truly is a god.

From your secretive position, you peer at him as he strides down the aisle to the platform where the officiant is waiting for him. At the top of the stairs, he turns and faces his people. In an act that surprises you, everyone who isn’t already on their feet rises, and in sync pound their fists to their chests. One two three.

Their utter devotion to him is staggering.

Feyd-Rautha raises his chin, simultaneously moved and expectant of this. He then takes his place at the altar.

Which means it’s your turn.

You loathe having to follow such a devastating display of power and love. There’s no telling how Giedi Prime will react to you, after all, considering that you are technically the enemy. Asha’s words come to you, emboldening you, and you lift your gaze. You will not falter.

A shushed quiet falls over the arena as you stride out, then enormous applause. You can only imagine what you look like to them, your people, but the only one who matters looks upon you with such unwavering devoutness that it nearly brings you to your knees. As you climb the steps to the altar, Feyd-Rautha’s hands clench into fists, a gesture you interpret as a sign of restraint.

Oh, if only he could touch you with those hands.

The officiant, a representative of the Imperium, begins to recite the traditional Harkonnen wedding script. A translator repeats the words to you, but you let the harsh language wash over you as you focus instead on the row of guests at the base of the altar. Your parents — looking fiercely protective, Leto smiling somewhat reluctantly; Jessica maintaining her cool demeanor — the Baron, emotionless, and beside him Rabban.

Did he wish it was him on the stage?

He catches you staring and flashes you a sickening smile. You look pointedly away, a fist forming in your stomach.

The beginning of the ceremony is tediously long and drenched in tradition, most of which you don’t understand even with the translator’s help. Marriage is not generally a romantic affair for Harkonnens, and the proof can be found in their strangely clinical rites. Again it’s impressed upon you that you are preparing for battle, one in which you would reside besides the most fearsome of its participants.

A pause on the officiant’s part draws you back to the present. You know what comes next, and the thought repulses you — Harkonnens of the Imperial House do not get married with the weight of enemies on their shoulders, pursuing a clean slate of sorts. You watch as a row of prisoners are led before the altar, hooded and bound and forced to their knees by a Harkonnen guard. You shiver despite the insurmountable heat.

You are familiar with war, with combat, the knife-thin edge upon which each fight balances. Life or death. But you can hardly stomach the idea of executing a helpless opponent, even if they are an enemy of your House.

Your throat thickens as Feyd-Rautha is bestowed a ceremonial blade.

Each hood of the prisoner is removed except for one, a man at the end who wavers to stay upright. Feyd-Rautha ignores this man, starting at the opposite end. His grin is apparent as he slashes through the throats of the prisoners, the blade his brush and the bodies his canvas, painting them both with ink-colored blood.

When Feyd-Rautha makes it to the still-hooded man, he pauses, shoulders heaving with the exertion of his wicked precision. Rivulets of blood stream down his armor. He says something unintelligible to the man, then removes his hood.

Your blood runs cold as you recognize him.

Ze’ev.

Now that you know who it is, you inspect him closer. There’s hardly any traces of the man you briefly knew. He is emaciated, bones lining his scarred flesh, clearly beaten within an inch of his life. After your encounter with Feyd-Rautha, you know that Harkonnens heal quickly, and the scars on his body indicate to you that he had been torn open again and again.

Feyd-Rautha turns. When he approaches you, his face is full of such naked adoration that it causes you to take a step back. He offers you the bloodied blade.

“For you,” he rasps.

You whisper fiercely, “What are you doing?”

“He is a gift, for you. On the day of our wedding.”

Every fiber of your being is screaming at you to refuse him. But to do so would be to decline your husband, shame him in front of his people — bile rises in your throat as you accept the blade, your fingers wrapping around the handle.

You breeze past him, refusing to meet his eye.

Ze’ev trembles as you advance on him. Though from his delicate condition or fear, you can’t be sure. His lips form a sneer. “You won’t do it.”

“It’s nice to see you, too,” you say dryly. “I thought you were dead.”

“I should be. Your husband certainly brought me to the brink of it and back, telling me that he was saving me. For you.” Ze’ev spits at your feet then, a dark and bloody glob.

On Arrakis, this would’ve been a sign of respect.

But this wasn’t Arrakis.

You raise your arm in an upward swing, then across your body with exuberance, his blood hissing as it splatters the ground. Splatters you.

The crowd applauds your demonstration, and the sound of their approval echoes in your ears as you take the stage once more, the prisoners’ bodies carted away quickly. You feel numb. Bewildered.

But also deliciously righteous.

You face the man who put you in this position, who put the blade in your hand as a gift without considering the consequences. And he smiles because he knows — he knows that you are delighted, that the freckles of drying blood elicit an indisputable, terrifying delirium in you.

He coaxed this from you, what was better left in the dark.

And you don’t know if you should thank him.

The officiant switches to the common tongue. “The time has come to bind these lives together in the sight of their people. As na-Baron and na-Baroness, they pledge their loyalty and protection to one another, their flesh and blood now shared in duty and alliance.”

A second blade is brought out on a satin cushion.

“na-Baron Feyd-Rautha, do you swear to protect and defend na-Baroness Y/N, to uphold her honor and safeguard her well-being, as your duty demands?”

“I swear.”

“na-Baroness Y/N, do you swear to protect and defend na-Baron Feyd-Rautha, to uphold his honor and safeguard his well-being, as your duty demands?”

You dip your chin. “I swear.”

“Then, as symbol of your shared duty and alliance, I ask you to exchange your blood.”

Feyd-Rautha takes the blade and, with surprising gentleness, turns your palm over and kisses it before gliding the tip of the blade over it. Your blood wells, bright red.

You take his own hand — large, scarred and calloused — and repeat the action.

Before he can heal, the officiant wraps a white cloth around your now joined hands, red blood mingling with black.

“You are my body, an extension of myself,” Feyd-Rautha rasps.

You tense. This isn’t part of the ceremony.

Feyd-Rautha, one hand still clasped in yours, uses the other to beat his chest. One two three. You watch as the crowd responds in kind: the same gesture, reverberating throughout Giedi Prime.

It’s incredibly intoxicating, to be the focus of such a powerful gesture. You let it wash over your skin and infiltrate your bloodstream, alter something inside you, rearranging your very cells into what it takes to be a fearless ruler. You would do anything to garner such a response again.

The officiant waits until the last thump can be heard before he declares, “May your bond be as unbreakable as the strongest fortress. United by duty and alliance, I present to you — the na-Baron and na-Baroness!”

Having spent so much time dreading the ceremony, you never stopped to think about what would happen after it. Currently you sit atop the dais in the throne room, accepting an endless line of Harkonnens who want to congratulate you on your feat of an arranged marriage. Your palm that the blade cut stings with every hand you shake.

After what seems like a small eternity, it’s time for you to join the nobles at the reception. Memories of the last time you sat at the table trickle in through your exhaustion — which you promptly shove away.

The feast passes in a blur. You don’t have the appetite for any of it, but hopefully do a convincing job of moving your food around on your plate.

And then: it’s time for your first dance.

Reluctantly you let Feyd-Rautha sweep you into the center of the room, the usual security you feel in his presence succumbing to your own fears. He holds you tight against him. His tone is clipped, political, plush lips on the shell of your ear, “You had never killed before.”

Ah, your first words as husband and wife.

“No I had never killed before,” you snap at him. “Not everyone goes around just slaughtering whoever they feel like.”

Feyd-Rautha is a surprisingly agile dancer, though you figure that it isn’t all that removed from fighting. “I didn’t intend to upset you.”

“Perhaps, but you did.” Your throat thickens. “What I did is irreversible.”

“You told me you wanted him to pay for what he did.”

“I-I did. I just didn’t think —”

“If you let someone who crosses you live, then others will try,” Feyd-Rautha says, incensed. “You must strangle the serpent while it’s a hatchling, for once it grows, it will seek you out while you lay in your bed and slip around your neck.”

You can’t suppress your shudder. What a lovely metaphor. Apparently Giedi Prime has loads of fun phrases alluding to death.

“You could’ve told me,” you mutter in lieu of a response.

“It was a gift.”

You bite down on the inside of your cheek. Was that all it was? Another part of your game?

“Most people give jewelry as gifts,” you retort.

Feyd-Rautha’s lips twitch. “I am not most people.”

“I know.” To prove your point, you coast your fingers over his side where the dagger went in.

He pulls you tighter against him. “I would have you right here in front of everyone if you’d let me.”

You can’t help but smirk. “I know.”

He opens his mouth to continue but he’s interrupted — by Rabban, nonetheless. “na-Baron, I request a dance with my sister in-law.”

Feyd-Rautha’s grip on you tightens. “No.”

“Yes,” you say, loosening his fingers from around your waist. “It won’t be long.”

Feyd-Rautha stares after you unhappily as his brother leads you away. Other couples have now taken to the floor in an elaborate dance that you don’t know. It doesn’t matter anyway, seeing that Rabban just drags you after him for each step.

“I suppose congratulations are in order,” he says finally.

“You suppose?”

“If it was up to me, Feyd-Rautha would be the one extending his congratulations.” Rabban’s small, dark eyes examine you. “Though the Bene Gesserits have chosen well for a Harkonnen bride. You are a formidable force.”

“Thank you,” you reply, sensing more.

“There are…things…in order that will happen because you will not submit to me,” Rabban says.

Your jaw sets. “Like what?”

“You’ve made your choice.” There’s a twinge of pity in his voice. Not for him. For you? “I thought I should forewarn you.”

“Rabban, what are you talking about? You never said anything about —”

“The day of the Crucible. I told you my wishes and you denied me them.”

“You said nothing that would warrant a warning. I thought you just envious of your brother for obtaining something else that you can’t have.”

“Envious? No. More deserving? Perhaps.”

Behind Rabban, a soldier materializes from the crowd. Sardaukar. You stiffen — it hadn’t come to your attention that anyone from the Imperium had attended your wedding.

“Excuse my interruption,” the soldier says. “I wanted to congratulate you on your union on behalf of the Emperor. He extends his deepest apologies that he isn’t t able to be here himself.”

You nod curtly.

The soldier’s gaze slides to Rabban. “May I have a word with you?”

Begrudgingly, Rabban releases you with a final look. You watch his retreating form, mind reeling with confusion. What did the Sardaukar want with Rabban? And why did the soldier look so familiar to you? Idly, you wonder if the violent nature of the Sardaukar soldiers remind you of the Harkonnens.

No, that isn’t it. That soldier had been here before, at the dinner a few weeks before. He had been the one to call the Baron away, you recall. But he had been dressed as a Harkonnen soldier then, not a soldier of the Imperial army.

The revelation creeps over you uneasily.

Before you can give it much thought, however, someone whisks you away into the next dance. A protest forms on your tongue before you realize it’s Asha — cheeks pink and beaming at you.

“Asha!” You can’t help but laugh, partly out of relief. “I thought you were another terrible admirer.”

“I am an admirer,” she says, “though I would hardly consider myself terrible.”

“Terrible for taking so long to get to me.”

“My apologies, but the na-Baroness is in high demand.” You settle into a comfortable rhythm as the music plays and Asha leads you in the unfamiliar dance. After some time, she grows uncharacteristically serious. “I know your feelings for the na-Baron are…complicated…but your ceremony was beautiful.”

You raise a brow. “Really?”

“The way he saluted you…” Asha trails off, waving her hand as if to ward off tears. This reaction spurns your curiosity.

Trying not to sound too interested, you ask, “What does it even mean?”

A slightly dreamy expression crosses Asha’s face. “Generally it’s reserved for military generals as a sign of respect, something that soldiers do to show their loyalty.”

“So when he did it to me…?”

“He was signaling that he sees you as someone superior to himself, someone to respect. That he is your willing soldier.” Asha grins. “Everyone has been talking about it.”

“Oh.” It’s all you can think to say. “Should I have done it back?”

Asha shakes her head. “Definitely not. It would’ve been an insult to him. His judgement. You did the right thing.”

You’re not sure what the right thing was, but you let the subject go. It lingers in your mind, however, to the point that you over-analyze the moment during the ceremony, replaying Feyd-Rautha’s expression as he saluted you.

You want to confront him about it, but apparently your first dance is all you will see of your new husband on the eve of your wedding. Even trying to catch his eye is impossible as you are both continuously pulled in different directions.

“Is this a bad time?”

At first you bristle, afraid that you’ve been caught sneaking away from the festivities. You have no idea of the time but it has to be well into the morning now, and you just wanted a moment to collect your thoughts. The spot you’ve chosen in a darken alcove gave you a perfect vantage point of Feyd-Rautha, infuriatingly charming as he speaks to a pair of nobles out of earshot.

You tear your gaze from him.

“Father!” You run into the arms of Leto, Duke of Arrakis, who ambles down the hall to you. It’s reflective of your greeting with Jessica this morning, but he inspires only warmth and fond memories. The brush of his beard across your cheek fills you with longing. “Oh, how I’ve missed you.”

“I apologize for not going this morning to visit you. Your mother insisted she go alone.” A frown tugs on his handsome features but disappears as quick as it appeared. “You look breathtaking.”

“Thank you,” you sigh. It’s as if you are a child again, the light of your father’s attention basking you in a sunny glow.

“I…” Leto pauses, deliberates. Your father is usually not someone to be lost for words. “I wish I had done something to prevent this.”

You touch his arm. “It’s not your fault.”

“I blame myself, it’s true. What kind of father willingly hands his daughter over to that…monster?”

“You had no choice. Neither of us did.”

“Listen, Y/N, your mother regrets how your conversation went this morning. She has only wanted the best for you,” he adds softly.

His words prick at you, and suddenly the warmth of his light diminishes. “We both know that’s not true.”

“Her intentions can be…muddled by her Bene Gesserit training. But that doesn’t change the love she feels for you.”

“Her love.” You chuckle bitterly. “All that she loves is what others can do to forward the Bene Gesserit agenda. You. Me. Don’t you realize?”

Leto’s expression softens. “Just come with me. She’s waiting for us. She wants to try again.”

Anger seizes you with white-knuckles and stifling heat, blooming in your chest. “I’ve given her too many opportunities to make things right. You just told me that you wish you could’ve prevented this. She could’ve prevented this. I do not wish to speak another word to someone who has orchestrated my entire life since conception.”

Perhaps you can blame the time that you’ve spent apart, the exhaustive events the day has presented you, but there is a side to Leto that you have forgotten — his frightening, unwavering loyalty to Jessica. A loyalty that not even you, his daughter, can temper.

His voice is that of a diplomat, detached and commanding as he says, “You will not speak of your mother in such a way.”

You’re not sure what you were expecting, but jumping to the defense of your mother cuts you deeper than any knife can. You swallow your disappointment.

“You’re fooled by her just like everyone else.”

Leto’s mouth tightens into an angry slash. “You are not the daughter I remember.”

“No.” You tilt your chin. “She is gone.”

“Then I have no business with you.”

Your tongue rolls in your cheek, over your teeth, carefully selecting your next words. “So be it. I won’t inconvenience you with my company.”

You can’t stand to witness his expression, or let him see the grimace of pain that graces yours, so you turn from him before either happens. You go, not back towards the party, but away — you can’t be here any longer. It feels as if your bones are trying to flee from your skeleton, your skin suddenly stretched too tightly.

Truthfully you have no destination in mind but your feet carry you to the one place that you know will guarantee silence.

Feyd-Rautha’s strategy room.

In the dark your fingers find the seam of the door and you ease it open, slinking inside. For the first time since this morning, you’re alone, and there’s no auditory assault of voices or music.

Back against the wall, you slide down to the ground and pull your knees to your chest. You will tears to your eyes but there are none to summon, lost to the icy numbness claiming you. Any other feeling is cast adrift.

Could it have only been three months ago that you were on Arrakis, sparring with Gurney?

You no longer recognize yourself.

The closest identifying factor is when the door open and Feyd-Rautha appears. There’s a resemblance there, a call of darkness in him that something within you answers. Your mouth twists in distaste. How did he find you?

“Go away.”

“No.”

“I don’t want you here.”

“I don’t care. This is my strategy room, and I can come and go as I please.” Cast in shadows, you can barely make out his face, but the scorch of his gaze is telling of his scrutiny. “Get up off the floor.”

“No.”

“Get up or I’ll make you.”

You weigh his words. Then you reluctantly rise to your feet, unable to look at him.

“This…attitude is unbecoming of you.”

“You’re a prick,” you fire back.

“A na-Baroness, brooding alone — and on the floor, nonetheless, like a common stray. I won’t tolerate this kind of behavior.”

“Or what?”

A muscle feathers in his jaw. “I will have to remind you who you are.”

Heat flickers in your belly, a weak flame. “And what is that? A whore, a womb? I am nothing but what others have made me to be.”

Feyd-Rautha laughs.

He actually laughs.

The sound of which is so unnatural, so unnerving, that your muscles tense like they’re anticipating a fight. You flush with shame — anger — and raise your hand to strike him but Feyd-Rautha catches your wrist. His words lilt with ill-timed amusement.

“Surely you don’t believe that.”

You struggle to wrest yourself from his grasp, but the effort is futile. “Let go of me.”

“No. Never.”

Feyd-Rautha’s lips crash into yours. He steers your back to the wall, colliding with your spine. He swallows your cry of pain with his mouth, slanting it over yours, hands bracketing either side of your face. His fingers delve into your hair, pads of his thumbs pressing against your cheeks. The weak flame inside you ignites into a raging inferno.

He kisses you with a fierce, concentrated energy, as if his sole purpose is to bruise your mouth with his own. His tongue flickers across your bottom lip, behind your teeth. You moan at the same time Feyd-Rautha chooses to coast his hands down your sides and your head lolls back, neck bared.

He grabs onto you as his mouth flies to your exposed throat, hands greedily clutching at your waist. Feyd-Rautha presses a series of kisses that turn swiftly into nibbles, bites. He sucks and licks at your neck, no doubt creating a necklace of love marks, eagerly staking his claim on the sensitive skin. Each bite and lick winds you closer and closer to an orgasm, the idea of his lips marking you wickedly delightful.

Feyd-Rautha moves his hands to your ass, to the underside of your thighs, and hikes you up. Without thinking, you lock your legs around him. The action brings his hardened length nudging against your center and you whimper, grinding into him, desperate for friction.

“I want you so fucking bad,” you pant. “Please.”

He hums against your neck. “What did you say you were — a whore?” His hips roll with yours, the memory of him inside you inciting a moan from your lips. “The na-Baron doesn’t bother fucking whores.”

“Please,” you say again.

In response, Feyd-Rautha bites down on the juncture of your neck and shoulder. You wince even as pleasure floods over you. “Beg all you want but I won’t fuck a whore.”

You fail to conjure a response as he pins you to the wall with his hips, your arms thrown around his neck, and effectively loosens his hands in order to hoist your dress up. Your flesh pimples as it’s exposed to the cool air of the strategy room.

Feyd-Rautha’s hands skim over you, brush over your center. You whimper, “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to tell me who you are,” he rasps.

Feyd-Rautha teases your clit through your panties, drawing lazy circles with his fingers. You buck your hips in an effort to gain reprieve but he denies you this.

Your voice pitches nearly into a whine. “I-I don’t know.”

And you don’t — not after the sequence of your day, not with Feyd-Rautha unraveling you with his his hands and his mouth. You are infinitesimal, insignificant, clay waiting to be shaped in his capable touch.

“Then I will remind you,” Feyd-Rautha says. He pushes your panties to the side, ghosting his digits over your entrance so that you writhe in desperation. “You are my wife, the na-Baroness of the House Harkonnen. You will raze cities to the ground and bring men to their knees. I will fuck you often and fill you with my seed, keep you pregnant so that you bear my children. You are not nothing, you are magnificent.”

His words are punctuated by his short, breathy pants, fingers pressing to your cunt without giving you any of the pleasure that you seek.

“Now — tell me who you are.”

“I-I am the na-Baroness. I am your wife.”

A wail looses from you as Feyd-Rautha plunges his fingers inside you, relieved from your aching by his careful ministrations. Each pump of his hand brings his palm to your sex, quick and authoritative. A hand that had killed six men today, saluted you, bled with you, and the severity of the situation has your walls clenching around him — he is Feyd-Rautha, and he is fucking you with his fingers, littering your body with bites and kisses and mumbled, appreciative praises.

It’s not surprising that this drives you to orgasm with record speed, to alleviating the pressure building between your legs —

Feyd-Rautha removes his fingers, depriving you of your release. You almost howl in frustration.

“Close,” he says. “But I’m not convinced.”

“No, please —”

“You can cum once you’ve convinced me that you remember who you are. Until then — your pleasure will be withheld.”

Again, he punishes you with his fingers, splitting you open as he inserts them. Your back bows.

“Now,” he pants, “tell. Me. Again.”

“I am the na-Baroness. I am your wife,” you repeat, mustering as much conviction as you can. You would tell him anything if it meant cumming on his fingers.

Harder, faster, wrist snapping: “And?”

“And…I am magnificent.”

Feyd-Rautha’s satisfaction is evident even in the dark, judging only by the pulse of his fingers, the breathy laugh fanning into your neck. He removes his fingers again, though, to your chagrin, trading positions for one that allows him to see your face. “Oh, you are,” he purrs. “And I bet you taste even better.”

You hitch your legs around his shoulders at his prompting. Feyd-Rautha sinking to his knees while applying enough weight to keep you trapped against the wall. You suppress another whimper. Your thighs are nearly flush with your chest as Feyd-Rautha dips his head to greet your cunt, driving you higher up the wall and forcing you to grab onto his armor for support.

You can’t see him with the skirt of your dress in the way, but you feel his mouth hovering your entrance.

Feyd-Rautha presses a kiss to you. He flicks his tongue over your clit, then licks a stripe up your center back to it, lapping eagerly between your thighs. His mouth works in tandem with his tongue, his teeth, treating you to the same nipping and sucking that he administered to your neck. Your hips buck to meet his every stroke.

And then, there it is again, your orgasm fighting for completion, raking claws of molten lava through your belly, your pelvis.

From between your legs, Feyd-Rautha rasps, “Convince me and I’ll let you cum.”

You swallow down a cry of protest. If you don’t get your release, you might actually implode. You do your best to summon his words from before, “I am the na-Baroness. I am your wife. And I am magnificent.”

“And how will I fuck you?”

Your teeth grind as you recall, “Often.”

“Why?”

“To-To keep me pregnant,” you stammer out. You rarely allow yourself to imagine your body in such a state, afraid of what it will invoke, but you do now: belly swollen with Feyd-Rautha’s child, breasts full, a physical manifestation of the vigorous fucking he regularly bestows.

And just like that, like the snapping of a rubberband, he returns his mouth to your cunt and laps at you until you finally, finally, reach your orgasm. Feyd-Rautha holds you steady as the prolonged release cleaves you in half, shuddering against his mouth, your vision swimming with stars. Tears wet your cheeks with your relief.

You sag into him, and he effortlessly lifts you back to your feet, still trapping you to the wall, one hand lazily skimming your hip.

“Do not, ever again, think so lowly of yourself. Do you understand?”

Your head bobbles stupidly. “I understand.”

“Good.” He brushes hair back from your face, runs his finger along the scattering of angry welts he’s left on your neck. “Now, my jewel, how do you want me to fuck you?”

You commit him to memory, this renegade angel, a contrast of darkness and your own personal deliverance. “I’ll let you choose.”

Without missing a beat, Feyd-Rautha carries you to the strategy table and lays you flat on your back, maneuvering to grab your ankles, one in each hand and spreading you wide. He takes his straining cock from his pants and strokes it as he admires you. “Mm, my beautiful wife, so eager for me to fuck her.”

He traces your entrance with his fingers, then notches his cock there, sliding the tip of it between your slick folds. You ache to take him but with your ankles in his grip, he keeps you firmly in place. Like a silly, wanton thing, you try desperately to grind against him as he drags himself, up and down, teasing you.

“Please, Feyd,” you beg, “please fuck me.”

“Say it again.”

“Fuck me, Feyd. Please.”

The ridges and crests of the strategy table bite into your back as he drives into you. The ecstasy of finally having him inside you is almost too much to bear — hips snapping, groans rumbling through his chest. He is inspired like this, immersed in the feel of your walls clamping down on his cock, pupils blown, plush lips parted with each panting breath.

If you only you could bottle up this moment, savor the way you both rise to meet the other like waves upon the shores of Caladan.

He pounds into you in a borderline frenzy, each near-violent thrust surging your orgasm higher.

Then Feyd-Rautha releases your ankles, your legs returning around his waist, and he captures your wrists instead, holding them over your head. The angle allows him to press himself to you, spearing you deeper, winding your desire tighter and tighter.

“My wife,” he rasps, “my jewel. Look at me.”

You meet his gaze. Feyd-Rautha smirks, pleased with himself, with you, and thrusts into you with swift finality. Your orgasm peaks and suddenly you’re shuddering and convulsing beneath him, pleasure wrought from every fiber of your being.

Distantly, you feel your cunt draw out Feyd-Rautha’s own orgasm, hips rolling against you as he spills himself inside you. He collapses on top of you, both of you panting, greedily drinking in lungfuls of air. Ostensibly, he recovers first and peels himself from you, tucking his cock back into his pants.

He helps you to your feet and you thank him breathlessly, thighs quivering as you stand, the wrinkled skirt of your dress cascading back to the ground.

“I suppose no one will question whether or not we’ve consummated our marriage,” he says.

Your cheeks burn. “Does it matter?”

“It’s typical for someone to watch to confirm,” he tells you, lifting a shoulder. “I said that it would be obvious enough.”

You gasp and swat his chest. “You didn’t.”

“The alternative was some noble peeking in on our fucking. Would you have preferred that? I do know you like to watch.”

“I suppose I wouldn’t,” you admit.

“Precisely.”

Feyd-Rautha’s eyes flicker over your face, and you can only guess what he sees there — you’re coated in a thin sheen of sweat and, undoubtedly, love marks, hair tangled and headpiece askew.

You shy away from him. “Do we have to go back to the reception?”

“No,” he nearly snorts, affronted that you would even suggest such a thing. “I fully intend on taking you to my bed and fucking you until you’re a mewling, quivering mess.”

Your cunt, still full with his cum, dripping with it down your thighs, clenches in anticipation.

“Then what are we still doing here?”

Part 8

Taglist:

@moonsoulk @heartarianagran @torchbearerkyle @unicoreads @taleah @mamawiggers1980 @jovialeggsbailiffsoul @harkonnin @avidreader73 @unicorntrooper @beebeechaos @kamcrazy123 @wo-ming-bai @kpopnstarwars @m-indkiller @dacreshoney

[fire-lizard-ro]

Ohoho Sunday thoughts you say? >:D this is loosely based on the prior ask? But I was just thinking how Sunday would probably try (keyword try) to remain pure and abstain from s*x before marriage, yknow? But when he finally does have you as his own, all bets are off. Angel boi is horny and wants you :( in his mind: it’s pure and simple yet beautiful lovemaking between two souls :( and in my love deprived ass I would melt because I know he’d be big on giving and receiving praise fjgjgjgj even would enjoy the idea of extending the Family if you were down for it (whether or not you could, he enjoys the idea of it) ((also he likes control so))

And don’t get me staarttteddd on his sweet aftercare and pillow talk D: oml you’d quite literally be on cloud nine!! He is too tho :) and he cannot help himself from just being so sweet and genuine orz

ohhHHHHH- Y e s I like this quite a bit. Need this to take a break from the angst I’ve been cookin up with a certain someone (you know who you are OTL).

Fair warning y’all are gonna end up seeing me write a fic about him that is blatantly blasphemous with religious themes (pretends like I’m not already working on one like that with Argenti).

Anyways- Back to this.

Thank you so much for the ask~ I love Sunday so much. <333333

CW: possessive behavior, cumming inside, fluff!!! (crazy I know how very almost off brand of me-), maybe some blasphemous thoughts? (idk that they count with aeons but hey-), marking, breeding kink (he’s saying it regardless of whether you are able to have children or not bc regardless it’s h o t -), praise

Reader gender: gender neutral (I tried not to say anything that would be too telling about what sex the reader is so please read it as such! I don’t think I said anything that was like that-)

So going off the last ask, we’re going to assume that he likes you enough to feel great affection for you. Enough to want you. To feel his own carnal desires rear their head even before you’ve married. It manifests in his seemingly innocent yet wandering hands. A hand on your waist as he passes by you. His hands drifting dangerously low when you hug. Leaning in close to talk to you. Lips making their way down from your forehead to your cheek to the corner of your lips. The placement of his kiss making its way to your lips slowly with every goodbye kiss.

But at some point, he can’t really stop himself from at least using those pretty hands of his on you- Along with that silver tongue and sinful mouth. He’ll make you feel so incredibly good, plunging his long fingers into you and taking you into his mouth. He’s lick and suck at you and even slide his tongue inside you. Perhaps the taste of you would be enough to tide him over until you were properly his- Married to him. It would have to be enough because you deserved to have a perfect wedding and perfect wedding night.

But aeons that doesn’t stop him from pleasuring you with what he can before then in order to hopefully keep himself in line. Even as his cock aches with the need to have you, he’ll just hold you down and whisper sweet promises in your ear. Even if you beg him, he won’t. Just wait for him baby just a little longer-

But after the ceremony is over and the afterparty is done and the guests all leave-

Oh dear. You’re finally left alone with your hungry fian- husband. You’re finally left alone with your absolutely famished husband. And you’re on the menu.

It begins like how many of your other encounters of sexual nature begin.

Sweet kisses that make it seem like he wants to swallow you whole.  Gentle hands taking in the feel of you in his arms. Trailing kisses down your throat, eyes closed in ecstasy because you were finally his now. He can have you with no regrets. All that waiting was for this moment. When he could finally have you wholly. And that makes this moment in the warm light of the bedside lamp and the cooler shades of the moon all the sweeter.

Wetted fingers stretching you in preparation for something larger, taking their time in their task despite knowing you well by then. Because even if this was to get you ready to become one with him- He’s wants to draw as much pleasure from you as possible. This is a special night for the two of you. One he will cherish completely and one he wants to make perfect for you. His arm would be holding him up, cradled behind your head for you to lean on while he molds himself to your side. Even as you whine and roll your hips into the curl of his fingers inside you, pressing on that special spot inside you, he kisses your cheeks gently with soothing words. “Good… very good, my love. Just a little more- I want you to finish on my fingers first. Can you do that for me, my sweet? I know you can-”

Just as he gives you your first orgasm of the night, he takes your lips once more while gently coaxing your through the waves of pleasure. He’s so soft, guiding you through the dance even while your mind goes blank for a bit as he watches your expression. “That’s it. I’ve got you.”

It’s then that he kisses you almost chastely before beginning his journey down your body to have his prize. The prize being whatever he’s managed to pull from you. He’d lick it from your body in broad strokes as though he were tasting honey dribbled over your form, caressing your every curve as he went.

Sunday would dribble lube over himself, a hand slathering the viscous substance over his cock in pumping motions. It was almost erotic watching him. The way he'd squeeze just a little at the top and you would watch his hardness twitch and drool between his fingers. But when you look up, the angelic man would only be looking at you. Gazing lovingly- longingly at you.

That's how it always was. Ever since meeting, he couldn't seem to take his eyes off you. You were simply radiant to him. Unlike anything or anyone else he'd ever seen.

Leaning over you to settle himself between your legs, Sunday would give you another kiss before asking if you were ready. While waiting for your answer, he'd go back to nip and lick at your neck. He wanted to mark you for all to see- You were his. His lover, his spouse, his soulmate. His. No one else's. He would love and care for you in every way, he'd think to himself.

And no- Don't just nod at him. "I need to hear you say it, dove. Please? For me, my dear?" Once you'd given him your clear consent, he'd bring you into a deep kiss while lining himself up with your stretched out, wet entrance. He can't even bring himself to tease you a little. Though the thought crossed his mind, he knew he'd been waiting far too long for this.

Once he was in the proper place, he'd rest his forehead against yours, the two of you breathing in each other's air while he looks down at where the two of you would be connected, fingers drifting to fondle you in order to distract from any possible pain you may feel with a gentle hum.

As Sunday would finally push in, cockhead popping inside, he'd gasp against your lips with twitching hips he had to force still. "Are you alright, love?" Taking a moment for himself to regain his composure and steel himself, he'd hide away in the crook of your neck to breathe in your scent and feel your pulse beneath his soft lips. Once you were ready it would be but a slow rock of his hips, moving gently inside you, to eventually sheath himself completely inside. As he worked himself into your tightness, Sunday would whisper sweet words into your ears in a whisper, as though the words were only for the two of you despite no one else being around- The words would come in between kisses while he rubbed a hand up and down your side to comfort you, the hand occasionally straying to rub your sex or pluck at your nipples to distract you from the strain of this part of the night.

Once bottomed out, your ass resting in the cradle of his hips with his body covering yours, he would ask you if you're alright and give you time to adjust. It's all praises here, the man telling you just how good you are for him and saying that you're doing wonderfully. After some time passes and you rock your hips against his to test your comfort, a small moan would be startled out of him before it devolves into a chuckle. "Are you ready, my love?"

It'd start with hip just grinding into you, firm but slow and accompanied by a pleasured sigh from him. He'd hold back none of his sounds because he wanted you to know how good you made him feel. Then he'd pull out only just a bit before thrusting himself back in. At some point he had begun to properly fuck you, the push and pull like the rocking of a boat on a gentle sea. This was making love. And after angling his hips, he found your sweet spot he'd only ever touched with those pretty fingers of his.

It'd be a struggle to not lose himself in you. In your all-consuming presence and the pleasure you gave him- In the love you showed him as you reached up to bring him close with a whimper of his name. It was like hearing the gospel fall from your lips. And they might as well have been. For now you were his everything. His god, his true Harmony. Were you to say it, it would be so. And right now, you were telling him that it felt good and asking him to keep going. So, he would.

With teeth gently marking all the places he'd been, his darkened eyes would watch the way you arch your back and moan to the heavens (they were yours anyways). Sunday is something that knows how to hide its teeth and disguise itself in the form of a man. He was careful to dull his claws so he would not hurt you when he held you close. Careful to veil the violence that was part of him, showing in his eyes, when he was with you. But he was a beast who knew the taste of blood. And yet you, his pure and lovely dove, loved him and accepted him. You said he was a good man and that you loved him. You were his truth. So, it must be so.

He wanted to claim you so wholly that none could ever deny that you both belonged to one another. That none could mistake that you were his deity and him your humble and devout servant who worshiped you here in the temple of your bed, giving you his offerings in pleasure, loyalty, and love. That brought another idea to mind of just how he could claim you and show you his deepest love.

"I want to breed you, my love. To carry on the family and mark you inside with my cum. Would that be alright? Do you want that as well, dove?"

He would speed up now, thinking about how he could have a family with you. How lovely you would look with a child tottering around behind you. He would make it happen no matter what so long as you wanted it as well. When you agree, he'd smile so wide his face hurt and shower you with kisses. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, my love my heart my everything-"

He can hardly fathom how he'd lived without you before.

Touching and kissing you all over he drove the two of you to your peak, the both of you moaning and whining against each other's lips as you kissed through the high. His hips continued to rock into yours to prolong the waves of pleasure that washed over you before slowing to a stop when you both became overstimulated.

"Thank you, love. You did so well- So very good for me. I love you so much," he'd praise and declare between kisses that he planted all over- Everywhere he could reach while wrapped up in your arms and holding you so close you wondered if the two of you could fuse together. "I love you, too," you'd mumble against his lips as he came back to them for a proper kiss. The chaste peck turning into a sensuous slide of lips, unhurried and full of undeniable love.

Even when he withdrew from your now cum-filled hole and began to clean you up, he would praise you and ask you how you felt while pressing kisses every place he touched. Once everything was done and he'd had you drink water, he'd lay down and pull you to lay on his chest. While stroking your back and pressing a kiss to your hair, he'd bid you goodnight and say yet another "I love you" before quietly humming to help you drift asleep.

Hopefully that was to your liking~ I had fun writing it! Thank you for the idea and for letting me write more about Sunday! <333

Feel free to send in another request if you want, hehe.

[lokis-army-77]

OK, so I know I *could* write this, but my WIPs are ridiculous, and you wrote Demon Eddie so well that he lives rent free in my head.

I was thinking Incubis Eddie, where reader thinks shes just having very horny dreams with this thing, and then he visits her when he thinks she's asleep but she's not...

Feel free to add your own flavours, or ignore this horny thot entirely up to you babe x

Hunger

Incubus!Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 2k

A demon awaits you in your room when you arrive home from a night out.

Warning: 18 +. multiple orgasms, some licking (f reviving), fingering (vaginal and anal), CNC?, some hair pulling, blood.

And thank you to @lofaewrites for beta reading 💗

Masterlist

He had started showing up in the dark corners of your room only a month ago. It was after you had watched some horror movie with a friend and instead of being afraid like every normal person in the theater, you were turned on. 

In the dreams you had of him, you weren't scared either even when he came into the light and bared his two rows of needle-sharp teeth, even when his horns made him appear taller and the wings stretching from his bare back made him look broader. 

Each night he visited you was another wonderful exploration of your wants and desires. You couldn't get enough of him and when you woke only to find that the pleasure and the pain had all been a dream, you sulked to yourself as you missed the feel of those long, clawed fingers scratching at your skin.

You had come home way later than you usually would on a weeknight. Only coming through your front door at around three in the morning. A long-time friend of yours had gotten married and the reception had gone on longer than you would have liked. The bride and groom had left at around twelve but the party raged on without them. You called it quits when the ache in your feet could no longer be ignored and instead of conversation, all you could do was yawn. 

Trudging through your front door you kick your shoes off and throw your bag onto the table in the entryway. You’re exhausted and all you want is to go to bed.

As you walk through your house, everything seems normal, until you flip the lights on in your bedroom. You freeze when you see it. A dark mass by the head of your bed bent over and pulling at the clumped-up sheets. 

The creature whips around, its hair falling into its face as it growled. Its wings spread out to make itself look bigger and it bared its rows of sharp teeth.  You take a step back, fear gripping onto you. But then, as you look at the strange form, you are met with a familiar feeling. This wasn’t a strange creature, no it was what visited you in your dreams. 

Confusion fell over you then. He was just a dream. He wasn’t real so why were you seeing him in your room? You don’t remember falling asleep anywhere. Shaking your head, you pinch your arm, thinking it might wake you up like it does in the movies but all you feel is the sharp pain it brings to your forearm. 

Cautiously, you take a step forward, hands out, showing the creature you didn’t intend to do anything rash. “Hello,” you speak softly. His eyes slit as he stares at you. “Uh.. what are you doing here?” You ask. He had never really talked to you in your dreams before but it didn't hurt to try. 

“You aren’t supposed to be awake.” He answers, voice deep. 

 You take a deep breath. "What do you mean?" you ask.

He stares at you for a moment before he speaks again. "You know what I mean."

When he steps toward you, you step back, only to run into the door. Where there should have been a sense of dread, there was only a spark. A tingling sensation coiling up inside of you the closer he came.  

He reaches out his hand, claw-like nails giving him a more sinister look, and brushes back the strands of your hair that had fallen out of the updo you had been wearing for the wedding. You shiver when you feel his nails tickle your skin.  

You can feel your heart beating faster as he shuffles closer to you, his larch body towering over yours. A gasp leaves you when he unexpectedly grabs you and hoists you over his shoulder. 

“What are you doing?” Your voice wavers as he walks you over to the bed and throws you down. Your body bounces at the force and once you settle, you try to back away from him. 

He huffs, frustrated. “You aren’t this much of a hassle when you’re sleeping.” He takes hold of your ankle and drags you back down the bed. You try to wriggle free, but he is too strong. He grabs the other ankle and pulls you towards him, trapping you between his body and the mattress. He presses his body against yours, his hands roaming over you. 

You can’t help the flood of arousal that washes over you as you struggle against him. He’s smirking like this is a game to him and it’s only making you more flustered. 

Leaning down, his lips press into yours and his tongue slips inside your mouth. It’s forked, just like in your dreams, but now, with what little he’s said, you wonder if they were really dreams at all. 

The kiss is fierce, full of strong emotions and wandering hands. He tugs on your dress and you can hear the fabric beginning to tear. You try to pull away and to stop him but he’s so much stronger than you. 

You feel the needle-sharp tips of his teeth nip you, drawing blood from your bottom lip. He laps it up, humming at the metallic taste. Your fingers drag lines over his back and sides as you fall deeper into the feral, primal instincts now controlling you. 

His hardened length can be felt pressing into your thigh as he ruts into you. His kisses are rough and desperate, and you can feel his heart racing against yours as he pulls you closer. He whispers in your ear, "Let me take what I need and I will let you sleep.” 

You’re nodding before you can stop yourself. The growing need for him is too much to resist now. 

The creature hums, satisfied at your submission. Soon, your dress is finally ripped off of you, along with your undergarments. You are left completely bare to him, nipples pebbling in the cool air of your room and thighs snapping shut at being so exposed. 

A deep chuckle rumbles from his chest and he’s quick to open your legs up. Long, deft fingers trail down your exposed skin, goosebumps coming up in their wake. He takes his time, coaxing you into a more relaxed state with gentle caresses and warm lips sucking marks into your skin.

“Ah.” A moan leaves you when you feel him bite at your collarbone. Tiny pinpricks that draw the smallest amount of blood. His tongue laved over the wound and he let out a groan. 

His hand finally reaches between your legs and you let out a cry of relief when his thumb rubs over your clit. His other hand moves up to cup your breast, his fingers teasing your nipple. His mouth moves over your neck and he whispers in your ear, “You are so sensitive.” His fingers slid through the wetness faster over your clit. 

Your hips move in tandem with his hand, bucking and writhing. He lets you take what you need.  His fingers move faster still as you begin to moan and gasp. His other hand moves down to your hip and grips as your body jerks with each wave of pleasure. “Fuck-” you breathe. You can feel the all-too-familiar sensation pushing you closer and closer to the edge. 

“That’s it. Give it to me.” He whispers into your ear as your back arches and your toes curl.  

Your breath hitches as your body tenses. Your voice breaks and you cry out in pleasure as you reach your peak. His grip tightens as you collapse onto the bed. 

The creature moans into your neck and he keeps rubbing his fingers into you, slowly moving them down from your clit to circle around your soaking-wet entrance. You whimper in his strong grip. 

“Please,” you gasp. He doesn’t stop, he pushes two of his fingers into you, pulling a wail from your lungs. You are clamping down around him, cunt practically sucking his fingers. 

There are squelching sounds coming from the fluid motion of his fingers roughly bounding into you. Your pleas and moans accompany the sounds and it’s like music to the creature's ears.   

He fingers you with abandon, pushing and pulling with force and speed. Your orgasm builds with each thrust of his fingers, your pleasure becoming more intense with each passing second. Your body goes rigid in his hold and as you cum for a second time. 

“No more,” you mumble, spent and exhausted. 

You hear him chuckle, “I’m not done with you, pet.” 

When his fingers leave your used cunt, a whine leaves you at the loss and you feel yourself clamping down around nothing. He is turning you onto your stomach before you know it. Your head is buried in the sheets and your body lies like a board. 

With closed eyes, you can only assume what he is doing behind you as you feel his body atop your own. Thick fingers push apart the fat of your ass to expose you. The tickle of his hair as he leans down to lick a thick stripe from your pussy to the tight ring of your ass makes you twitch, a small bit of exhausted laughter pushing through you. 

He pulls back and you can feel his thumb toying with your ass, circling and pushing in just slightly. He has moved to his legs are on either side of your closed thighs. You can feel the hardness of his cock resting along the seam of where your legs meet. He’s hot and leaking pre-cum. 

Wiggling your hips, you encourage him to keep going. He then guides his cock closer, pressing the tip through the sticky wetness and into your waiting pussy. 

You moan into the bed at the stretch, hands gripping the sheets. He’s so big that he makes you feel so full without being completely inside you. 

He keeps pushing into you, grunting and hissing at the feel of your cunt spasming around him. Once he is fully sheathed inside you he begins to piston his hips. In and out in and out. He’s fucking you at a brutal pace. Giving you pleasure but also taking what he wants from you. 

His thumb is still circling your ass but as he keeps going, he finally pushes past your tight rim. You cry out into the open air of your bedroom. His thumb is thick and stretches you open where you have never been stretched before. 

“Fuck, yes.” You mumble into the sheets below. 

He grins. “You like that pet? Like when I use this pretty ass?”

You nod, hair tangling under your face as you do. “Yes, yes, yes.” It's the only word you can get out of your mouth. 

Listening to your words he begins to thrust his thumb in and out of you at the same unwaveringly fast pace that his hips have set. 

You can’t help the guttural groan you let out. It’s all becoming too much. So many sensations are filling your body, some familiar and others new. The strings of your orgasm have been pulled taut and are slowly breaking one by one. Your fists clench and your legs spasm. The creature reaches to your head and pulls on your hair at the base of your neck. Your head is forced up and with a half cry half moan, you cum around him as he releases thick stream after thick stream into you. 

As he keeps himself buried within you, he leans down and bites at your ear before speaking. “I may have to visit you when you are awake again, pet. You take me so well.” 

He pulls out and moves away, fast and unexpectedly, leaving you to drop, spent, and used on the bed. You turn slowly to look for him but your eyes find him nowhere in your room. It was empty, he had vanished into thin air. 

Soon he will return, hunger no longer sated by the sexual energy that you have given him tonight.  

[thebenjiblackwoodexpress]

Devil's Snare part.5

Aemond Targaryen x reader

Description: Aemond introduces Y/N to his mother as his betrothed, much to the displeasure of Otto Hightower. The strength of their love for one another is tested by the whispers which spread throughout the court of the one-eyed Prince and his strange choice to wed his handmaiden. All the while, Aemond is insistent that Y/N meet Vhagar.

Previous part

Writer's note: I am so sorry this took so long! I had major writer's block and overthought the hell out of it. Its giving "started making it, had a breakdown, bon appetit" for the people who get that reference 😂. Also wanted to avoid HOTD content when the leaks happened. We finally get the wedding in this part so shout out to @ateliefloresdaprimavera this one's for you! Unsure whether you guys want this to continue into the dance of dragons plot, I might need to diverge from canon. I thought I'd do a Lord of the Tides part next as a test run.

Warnings: female reader, canon typical misogyny, slut shaming, Granny Vhagar (in the flesh this time), sexual innuendo but no smut (sorry, I just don't read it so don't think I could write it well), lengthy as always.

Y/N felt nervous butterflies fluttering against her ribcage as Aemond led her along the halls of the Red Keep to his mother's chambers, grounded only by the feel of his hand wrapped around hers. It was all she could do to keep putting one foot in front of the other, so anxious was she of the Queen's response to her son's decision to marry her, a mere handmaiden. But she could not bear to hold Aemond back any longer, not when his face glowed with such happiness. Besides, she did not think he'd allow her to go back on her word now she'd promised herself to him. He'd all but taken her breath away with the force with which he'd kissed her and grabbed her hand to pull her from his chambers almost immediately afterwards in his eagerness. She'd subconsciously halted where she stood, her thoughts panicked and frenzied as she realised the weight of her words and that Aemond really meant to waste no more time in informing his mother, the Queen herself. Aemond, however, was all too impatient to marry the girl he loved. 

Stopping as he felt her hand go limp in his he turned to her, assessing the panic on her face. Suddenly taking hold of her waist, he pulled her against him so that their bodies seemed to melt into one another, causing Y/N to blush a furious shade of scarlet as she felt the contours of his body against hers. Aemond smirked, always pleased he was able to have such an affect over her. "I'm afraid my patience has been entirely spent, my love. I can tarry no longer in making you my wife. I will carry you to my mother's chambers if I must." His hand tightened around her waist, not enough to hurt but enough to make her gasp as she realised he may actually be serious. Strengthening her grip on his hand, she stuttered out a semblance of a response. "That will not be necessary, My Prince." Aemond's eyebrows shot up at that. "I am no longer just Aemond to you?"

Y/N's blush deepened at her blunder, hoping she hadn't offended him in her state of nervousness. "I am sorry, my love. It just slipped out."

Aemond's face softened and he lightly trailed a hand across her face. "You have not called me that before." Y/N realised he was right. Aemond was so free with his affections, with terms of endearment, but this seemed to be the last layer of intimacy she had struggled to breakthrough. Y/N looked down, somewhat ashamed that she had been so slow to offer Aemond the love he gave so freely in return, feeling strongly that she did not deserve him. Her chin was tilted upwards by a gentle hand as Aemond brushed his lips against hers, the ghost of a kiss. "It matters not what you call me, only call me yours and I should be content." Y/N felt such a strong surge of love for Aemond in that moment, in light of his understanding of her difficulty expressing affection and his unfaltering patience with her nonetheless. She felt her nerves dissipate a little, and grabbing his hand more resolutely she led them from his chambers herself.

Aemond had been pleased Y/N had gone willingly, he had not been jesting when he told her he'd carry her to his mother's chambers. He knew that she loved him and it was only the opinions of others that concerned her, and Aemond could no longer allow such unfounded fears to delay their union. He wanted her and by the grace of the Seven she wanted him too. That was all that mattered to him now, and he was prepared to fight for the girl he loved, from any opposition they may face. Aemond strode purposefully towards his mother's chambers, having no care for the lateness of the evening, but slowed as he felt Y/N's grip loosen oncemore, looking back to see her tailing behind him. Sighing, he lowered his torso to meet her eyes. "Y/N I will put you over my shoulder. Unless you have decided you will not have me after all?" He hated the tinge of insecurity that laced his voice.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes wide with alarm. "That is not what I want. I wish to be your wife. I am only frightened of meeting your mother."

Aemond took hold of her elbows. "I assure you there is nothing to fear. She will love you in time as I do. I will not allow anyone to come between us."

"You sound so certain."

Aemond shot Y/N a roguish grin. "You can depend upon it. Come now." Reclaiming her hand he pulled them down the final corridor which led to his mother's chambers, addressing his mother's sworn protector before they'd even reached the end of the hall. "Ser Criston, I would speak with my mother."

Ser Criston's eyebrows pulled into a confused frown as his eyes flitted between the Prince's serious expression and the hand which clasped his handmaiden's. "The hour is late, my prince. Her grace is presently engaged with the Hand of the King."

Aemond startled slightly before schooling his features into a mask of calm, not wishing to alarm Y/N any more. He had not expected to contend with both his mother and Otto Hightower this night, but it mattered little. He had no intention of backing down on the matter of his marriage to Y/N, whatever the opposition.

"It is no matter Cole, my mother will be gladdened by the news I bring her."

Aemond was not certain of this fact, but he assumed an air of self-assurance nonetheless as he released Y/N's hand to pat Criston on the shoulder, pushing the door to his mother's chambers open.

His mother's eyes snapped up to him as he entered, Y/N shuffling in behind him whilst lightly clutching onto his tunic. He discreetly reached behind him to take hold of her free hand, hoping to provide her some degree of comfort. His mother looked flushed as if she had just been shouting and his good eye immediately sought out the object of her distress, landing on his grandsire Otto whose expression was one of irritation. Aemond narrowed his eyes at the scene before him, clearly he had interrupted an argument. He loved his mother and had never forgotten how she had been the only one to speak up for him and defend him on driftmark when he had lost his eye. Fixing Otto with a stern glare he returned his gaze to his mother. "Mother, I wish to introduce you to my betrothed. I have asked Y/N to marry me and, happily, she has agreed to become my wife." Aemond spoke with finality, he would not prevaricate or draw this out any longer than he needed to. An eery silence followed for an agonisingly long time before Alicent rose to meet Aemond, hands reaching out towards him. He regretfully released Y/N's hand to take his mother's proferred hands. She spoke softly as if to a young child who needed to be coaxed away from doing something dangerous. "Aemond, she is your handmaiden."

"She was my handmaiden, she is my lady now."

Alicent shook her head and closed her eyes, as if when she opened them again the image of Aemond and his handmaiden would only have been a figment of her imaginings. When she opened them and observed her son's determined expression, she blanched. "Aemond, you cannot mean to marry a servant. You are a Prince of the realm and you know it is your duty to marry for the benefit of the crown. I'm sure your handmaiden is lovely, but she is not a suitable marriage prospect."

Aemond's own tone sharpened. He misliked his mother talking as if Y/N was not standing right behind him, her own hand tightening on his tunic.

"Mother, I did not come to argue with you. The matter is settled. I love her and will marry no other. Would you deny me this happiness I have been fortunate enough to find, after all I have lost?" Aemond began to hope his mother was losing her resolve as her eyes softened, one hand reaching up to cup his cheek. But it was at that moment that Otto hightower broke his silence. "Will you truly entertain this nonsense Alicent?"

Then turning to Aemond, "Are you so foolish boy? Or have you got the girl with child? There are other ways of dealing with this than sullying your title with a marriage to a low born girl." Alicnet had to push against Aemond's chest as his face contorted in anger, taking a step forward towards his grandsire. He practically snarled in response. "I will not suffer insults to my betrothed or allow you to taint her honour with your vile assumptions."

Otto's anger only rose to match Aemond's as he shouted back at him. "It would be an embarasment for your family, for your House, for the crown itself. Do you care for nothing but your own base desires, boy?"

Aemond's voice was dangerously low and seething. "My love for Y/N is pure, there is nothing base about it. I'll thank you to watch your words, grandsire. I intend to serve my House dutifully with Y/N at my side. Am I not our House's strongest sword? Do I not ride the largest and most ancient dragon in the world?"

Seemingly writing Aemond off as a lost cause, he looked around the Prince to the girl cowering behind him. Perhaps she might be swayed to sense.

"Girl, you must know that this would be a disastrous match for the realm. I am sure you must feel something for the Prince. Would you not then see him ascend to his rightful position and marry for the good of the realm?

The girl's face turned disconsolate. Aemond lost his composure entirely, brushing past his mother and advancing on his grandsire, each word laced with venom. "Do not speak to her as if she were just an object to be dispensed with when it is no longer of use."

Otto's eyes flitted back to the girl, ignoring his nephew's attempts at intimidation. He was sure Ser Criston would intervene if it came to violence.

"What will you take to renounce this farcical pact? A girl like you should want for security, the path you tread will offer you only strife and judgement. Will you take coin, jewels, an elevated position perhaps?"

He watched his nephew's reaction closely for any sign he would strike, coiled as he was like a viper.

Instead, he saw his nephew's face crumple and his good eye widen. Mayhaps he feared the girl would take him up on his offer.

Looking back to the girl, Otto was startled by the fierceness of the glare she now levelled at him. She'd only seemed a timid creature moments before, easily malleable to his will. She took determined steps forward until she stood next to Aemond, taking his hand in hers. Looking steadfastly up at Otto, she spoke for the first time with an air of confidence he had not expected from her. "I love Prince Aemond and I will not abandon him, whatever you offer me." His nephew's face softened as he gazed down at the girl, perhaps he had not expected such a reaction from her either. Before Otto could incite Aemond enough to strike him, Alicent intervened. "Aemond, we will discuss this further tomorrow. I will have separate chambers prepared for Y/N. She cannot be permitted to continue in service as your handmaiden if these are your wishes. It would continue to raise questions." Alicent knew her son. He was determined and unlike to make a vow he did not mean.

Aemond smiled at his mother, pleased by her softened resolve, though she still looked unconvinced. "Very well Mother, thank you. I will see you on the morrow." Lightly pulling Y/N with him he quickly strode from the room, not stopping until they had passed along several hallways and were far from his mother's chambers. Halting without warning, Y/N almost bumped into him before he caught her, wrapping her up in his arms and leaning his head down to rest against her shoulder.

"Thank you, my brave girl."

Aemond had felt a deeper scar than the one he bore upon his face begin to heal over as Y/N had affirmed her love for him, standing up to the Hand of the King himself to remain at his side. He could not put into words how much her actions had meant to him, knowing how difficult it must have been for her to do so. He cursed himself for believing, just for a moment, there was a possibility of Y/N taking Otto up on one of his sordid offers, so used was he to being the second choice as the second son, and even then it was only Rhaenyra his father truly cared for. He knew how inherently good Y/N was, how she returned his love, and decided his faith would never falter again. Releasing his hold on her he slid his hand down her arm before interlocking their hands. "Come, I will walk you back to the servant's quarters for tonight. Tomorrow you will have more adequate chambers fit for a princess."

Y/N lightly swatted at Aemond's chest. "Aemond, it would scare the servant's half to death for a Prince to show up unannounced at this hour. Rumours will run rife. And I am no princess."

"I do not care, my love I wish to walk my betrothed safely to her door. Besides, you shall be my princess shortly and I wish you to be treated as such. I would shower you with jewels if you would allow it."

Y/N blushed, looking down at the ground. "I have no need of extravagant gifts, Aemond. You know I have always managed quite well with my room in the Keep and with less before that."

Aemond frowned, his heart dropping at the thought of the hardships Y/N must have faced whilst his every need was tended to in the Keep. "I do not like to think of you suffering any deprivation." Y/N squeezed his hand comfortingly. "It was not so bad, I was very lucky to secure a position in the crown's service at a young age."

Aemond tucked a tendril of hair behind Y/N's ear, smiling softly at her and humming as if in thought. "Well, if you will not take jewels, I will need to find another way to express my adoration for you, little one."

Aemond made good on his promise, and everyday a squire would arrive at Y/N's newly appointed chambers to deliver a bouquet of bluebells to her door. Y/N had no idea how Aemond was managing to get hold of so many bluebells, aware as she was that they did not grow within the grounds of Kings Landing, but she adored them and her heart fluttered at the Prince's thoughtfulness. He had heeded her previous rejection of jewels, but he sent her gifts he thought would be more acceptable to her instead; books he thought she might like to read, as thanks to him and Helaena this had become a favourite past time of hers, new gowns in the colours of his House, which made the prospect of their marriage feel more real to her, that she really would be his lady. But it was the flowers that made her feel closer to him as her abrupt change of circumstances meant she could no longer spend time with him alone in his chambers, and she missed him when he was attending to his duties during the day.

She would have been bored out of her mind if not for the company of Helaena who was only too happy to receive her as a sister. She spent the better part of her days in Helaena's chambers, either playing with the little Prince Jahaerys and his sister Princess Jahaera, or discussing her upcoming nuptials with the Princess Helaena. Aemond came to see her at least once a day when it was permitted in his sister's chambers, or she would come to watch him in the training yard. But she misliked the stares she received and found herself seeing Aemond less and less as a result. The Queen had tentatively consented to her marriage with Aemond, despite the Hand's open distate, but she had not spoken to Y/N since. She was all too aware how the Queen and her father saw her as a burden to the Prince, to House Targaryen. As such, the wedding was set to be a small affair, which suited Y/N's shy nature. Though she did hope that in time she might be able to bond with the Queen if she truly saw how happy she and Aemond were together. What mother would not wish their son to be happy?

Rounding a corridor on the way to Helaena's chambers, Y/N heard giggles and muffled whispers, halting in her tracks as she heard the repeated refrain of Aemond's name.

"The Prince Aemond...marrying his handmaiden."

"With child, surely?"

"It is a wonder she is not frightened of him with that scar."

"I could not do it."

"Perhaps no other ladies of the court could stand it?"

She struggled to discern the nature of the conversation between the three ladies of the court, only picking out bits and pieces at first. But when she pieced it together she felt her blood heat as outrage rose up within her.

Before she could think through her actions, Y/N stepped out from behind the wall which concealed her and stormed towards the three ladies who glanced up at the heavy tread of her steps. "You should not speak of the Prince in such a manner. Have you no shame, no respect for the Crown?" The lady closest to her scowled, shifting her raven hair over her shoulders as she upturned her nose at Y/N. "Who are you to presume you can dictate what we should or should not discuss? This is a private conversation."

Y/N was sure she must resemble Vhagar, though she'd never seen the she-dragon, with her own flames pouring forth from her in the form of her heated cheeks. "I am the Prince Aemond's betrothed you speak of. I will not allow you to sully the Prince's name with your false rumours or distasteful remarks about the scar he bears through no fault of his own." The raven haired lady's tone turned mocking then. "So you are the handmaiden then? How dare you talk to your betters this way? Know your place girl."

Y/N's fists clenched unconsciously. "My place is beside the Prince, or defending him from ignorant people like you who would insult him over something entirely out of his control. I must refute your cruel assumptions. The Prince is a noble warrior, a fierce dragon rider, and a dedicated scholar, deserving of your respect. Greater still, he is kind and a gentleman, and I do not fear him in the slightest. Any lady would be lucky to receive his affections and it is my good fortune that he has decided to bestow them on me, though I am but a lowly handmaiden as you say. This only speaks more to his character, that he is able to see past the physical appearance of things, unlike certain members of this court."

Chest heaving, her breath coming in short pants as she finished her tirade, Y/N glared at the three ladies, daring them to speak another word against Aemond.

The raven haired girl took a step towards her, a clear attempt at intimidation. "Be careful girl. You are not wed yet. Who knows how long you will have Prince Aemond's favour. The love of a Prince is a fickle, fleeting thing." When Y/N only continue to scorch her with her glare, the three ladies stalked away. Y/N could feel herself still trembling slightly in her anger at the insults levelled at Aemond. She had never stood up to anyone, her naturally timid nature and status as a servant did not lend themselves to such agency. Though she felt a sense of satisfaction in having done so in defence of the man she loved.

Alicent Hightower had been making her way to her daughter's chambers when she came across the odd sight of the girl, Y/N, squaring her shoulders and raising her voice to three ladies of the court. Shocked at first that she should be so brazen, she stepped forward to intervene, quickly relenting once she approached close enough to hear the nature of the girl's tirade. Instead, the Queen felt her heart warming to the girl as she heard her passionate defence of her son, beginning to understand the depth of Aemond's feelings for the girl. No one save herself had ever defended him so steadfastly. And Alicent could admit that even she had been somewhat lax in expressing her affections for Aemond. This girl clearly loved her son, unconditionally so, and Alicent could not but help to feel grateful to her for this fact. She loved all of her children and wanted them to feel safe and loved. The King barely took note of Aemond, no matter how hard he tried to embody the traits of a true Targaryen, whilst he revered Rhaenyra's plain featured bastards. It was an insult to all decency. In that moment, Alicent resolved to accept this marriage fully and try to bond with the girl, Y/N she reminded herself. Aemond deserved to be loved and she would defend his right to marry the girl should her father or husband express any further opposition.

Aemond was surprised to be summoned to his mother's chambers that evening, she spent the greater portion of her time with Helaena and rarely sent for him. Though he often wished she would show him more affectation as his mother. He grew concerned she wished to talk him out of his engagement with Y/N, already having tentatively expressed her apprehension to the match to no avail. He would not hear anymore on the matter if that were the case.

"Prince Aemond, your grace."

"Thank you Ser Criston."

Aemond entered his mother's chambers as Cole announced him, back ramrod straight and hands clasped behind his back.

Hi mother waited until Cole had shut the door behind him before taking both his hands in her own. "I wish to talk to you on Y/N, Aemond."

"Mother..."

"No, let me speak my peace. I wish only to tell you that I approve of your marriage to the girl and give you my blessing. I will defend your choice alongside you should the need arise again. Though I believe your grandsire has written it off as a lost cause and you well know your father's condition."

Aemond squeezed his mother's hands, hardly believing such a change could have come about so suddenly. "I thank you, Mother. May I ask what has prompted you to change your opinion on Y/N?"

Aemond felt the love he had always wished for from his mother as she smiled warmly up at him. "You'll be pleased to know your betrothed is not so timid as she seems. I came across her defending you quite passionately against three members of the court today. She would hear no insult to your name or your intentions towards her, and made her love and respect for you abundantly clear to the three ladies...and to myself. I confess myself greatly moved by her love for my son."

Aemond felt pride rise within him at Y/N's defence of him and his love grow for her if that were even possible. Taking his mother's hand to place a kiss upon her knuckles, he released her to go and thank his lady. "My heart is gladdened to hear of it mother, and grateful for the affect it has had upon your own. I will bid you goodnight now."

Y/N jumped at the sound of a knock at her chamber door. The hour was late and she had been preparing for bed. She was not entirely certain she should be opening the door in her night dress at this hour but did not wish to be rude if it were a matter of importance, a summons from the Queen herself even. Y/N had barely taken the lock of the latch and opened the door before she was unceremoniously crushed to Aemond's chest, shrieking as she was lifted into the air and spun until her back met the door as he quickly swung it closed, shushing her as he did so. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck reflexively, though she knew he would not drop her. "Aemond what in the Seven..?"

Aemond silenced her with a kiss that took her breath away as he continued to hold her against his body. Melting into his kiss, Y/N tangled her hands in his hair, not caring anymore for the abruptness of his greeting. Pulling away so they could catch their breath, Aemond gently set her down though he kept a hold on her waist. To Y/N, his face looked ethereal in the soft glow of the candle light as he smiled at her.

"I apologise for startling you, my love. I did not wish anyone to see me enter given the lateness of the hour."

Y/N was half dazed by Aemond's proximity and the tingling sensation on her lips from when he'd kissed her, but she willed herself not to just stand gaping at him. "And what brings you to my chambers at this hour?" Her tone was light and teasing. She had missed him and was glad he'd come to see her whatever his reason.

Aemond stepped closer towards Y/N before bringing his lips to her jaw. Y/N gasped softly, but pulled him closer to her instinctively as he kissed down her jaw and spoke against her skin. "I came to thank you for defending me. My mother spoke of it to me."

Y/N's eyes fluttered closed as Aemond began to kiss her neck but tried to maintain a degree of composure to respond to him. She had not been aware of the Queen's presence at the time. "I did not like to hear others speak badly of you. They do not know you as I do." Y/N lifted a hand to stroke his hair as Aemond hummed in response, planting a kiss against her clavicle just above the neckline of her night gown. Her eyes flew open as she realised for the first time that she was, in fact, only in her night gown and the situation was less than appropriate. Pushing Aemond back slightly by his shoulders she tried to keep her voice quiet so as not to alert anyone who might pass by to Aemond's presence in her chambers. "Aemond, I'm only in my night gown!"

Aemond looked confused that she had only just realised this. "I'm well aware, you look beautiful."

Y/N blushed scarlet. "That's not what I meant. But if we're seen together like this, people will think..." She trailed off, hoping Aemond would understand her concerns without her having to spell it out.

Aemond grinned at her. "I only wished to thank my lady for defending my honour. Having done so I shall depart forthwith. I will be discreet." He took Y/N's hand and pulled her with him as he quietly opened the chamber door, glancing around for any signs of movement. Quickly turning to bid his lady goodnight with a final peck on the lips, he shut the door behind him and hurried back to his own chambers, unable to contain his smile as the image of Y/N's flushed cheeks and hair mussed from his ministrations swam in his mind.

Y/N shivered as a cold breeze blew through the courtyard of the Red Keep, blowing whisps of hair into her eyes, which she quickly brushed away. Aemond had asked her to meet him that morning for she knew not what, but the presence of the horse being saddled by a young squire by the steps of the Keep entrance concerned her somewhat.

"Y/N"

At the sound of her voice she looked up to see Aemond taking the steps three at a time to meet her, immediately wrapping an arm around her waist to kiss her as he reached the bottom.

"Good morning, my love" He pulled back to smile at her, the biting cold of the crisp morning seemingly having no affect on his mood. She supposed the blood of the dragon spared him.

Placing a hand against his chest she realised she was right as heat seemed to radiate from him whilst she stood there shivering. "Good morning, Aemond."

Taking hold of the hand that was on his chest in both of his, Aemond began rubbing his hands up and down hers "Your hands are cold. We should head off while the skies remain clear." With that he began pulling her towards the horse, just as she'd feared. She'd never ridden before and could foresee embarassment just at the thought of mounting the horse. "And where are we going, Aemond?"

Without stopping Aemond called back to her over his shoulder. "To visit Vhagar. It is important to me that you become acquainted." Y/N blanched, she'd expressed her interest in dragons early on to Aemond, they were almost like gods to her, but also her fear of them...and Vhagar was the largest and fiercest of them all. Aemond had taken to mentioning Vhagar with increasing regularity to her and she should have realised this was inevitable. His grip on her hand was tight and carried with it a sense of finality. Sighing and accepting her fate, hoping the dragon wouldn't cook her on sight, she asked the other question that was on her mind.

"Why do we have need of a horse to see your dragon? The dragon pit is within walking distance, is it not?"

"Vhagar is too large for the dragon pit. She resides on the outskirts of the city."

Y/N gulped. Aemond was always so nonchalant about his fearsome dragon, as if she were a friend to him rather than a fire breathing beast. She could not be so calm about the danger.

As Aemond released her hand to take the reigns of the horse from the squire, she looked sceptically at the saddle. Before she could make a disastrous attempt at mounting the horse, warm hands lifted her by the waist onto its back. Aemond followed swiftly, positioning himself behind her.

Y/N blushed as Aemond reach around her to take the reigns, encompassing her in his arms as the horse broke into a canter. His breath tickled the hair by her ear as he leant his head on her shoulder. "Relax." She realised she had been sitting stiff as a board, tilted forward, and leaned more fully into him, her back pressing against his chest. She felt a sense of security in Aemond's arms, even as she want to meet a dragon, his warmth seeping into her.

Aemond smiled as he felt Y/N shift closer to him, basking in her proximity and how far they had come for her to be so comfortable with him now. He'd been bemused at the look on her face as she'd approached the horse, tentatively placing her smaller hand on the saddle. He doubted she had any or at least very little experience with horse riding. Lifting her up onto the horse himself and wrapping his arms around her to take the reigns, he thought to himself that he should have invented an excuse to do so long before.

They fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by Y/N's gasp as what she'd thought had been a huge mountain moved and lifted its head, seemingly sensing its rider's approach. Not a mountain...Vhagar.

"It is alright, Y/N. She will not harm you. I am here."

Bringing the horse to a stop a safe distance away from the she-dragon, Aemond jumped down before turning to lift Y/N down. Vhagar was looking inquisitively at them and Y/N feared she was wondering whether Aemond had brought her a snack, though she was also awestruck by the sight of a real dragon before her. "Stay here a moment, I will calm her before I introduce you."

With that he approached the large dragon as if she were only a small dog, speaking softly to her and patting her snout when he was close enough.

"Lykirri Vhagar, dohaeras."

Y/N felt her lips quirk up in an involuntary smile and her cheeks heat at the smooth, low tone of Aemond's voice as he spoke in High Valyrian. She had not heard him speak it before but found it unspeakably attractive. Y/N could not understand what Aemond was saying, but whatever it was seemed to have a calming affect on the she-dragon as she rested her head back on the ground, not even looking at Y/N anymore. She could not school her features before Aemond looked back at her, returning to her side and looking down at her questioningly. "I do so love to see you blush, might I inquire as to the cause on this occasion?"

Y/N wanted the ground to swallow her up at his directness, but as she began to turn from Aemond to hide her glowing cheeks, he only took hold of her elbow and turned her back towards him. "There is no need to be embarassed, Ñuha prūmia." As her blush deepened and she squirmed away from him realisation dawned on Aemond's face, and he graced her with a knowing smirk.

"Ah, I see."

Y/N felt the need to explain herself, but only managed to stumble over her own words. "It is only that I like to hear you speak in Valyrian, it has an elegance to it. I mean to say that I find the sound of your voice comforting. Wait, that sounds worse." Flustered she placed her head in her hands, hearing Aemond chuckle softly as he prised her hands from her face. "I am glad you like the sound of my voice, my darling, and I'll speak to you in High Valyrian more often if it should please you.

Brushing his hand over her blazing cheek he brought his face low to speak against her ear, his voice barely above a whisper.  "Iksā gevie, Issa jorrāelagon."

A shiver went down Y/N's spine, though she did not understand the meaning of the words. "What does it mean?"

Aemond pulled back, his smile widening at her physical reaction to his voice. "Do you truly wish to know?" Y/N narrowed her eyes in suspicion at the cunning glint in Aemond's eye, resolving to just ask Helaena later. She hoped it was not anything too crude. "I'm suddenly not so sure I do." Aemond patted her cheek affectionately before taking her hand in his. "Come then, I wish you to meet Vhagar. She is calm now. It is safe."

Interlocking their fingers, Aemond gently pulled Y/N towards Vhagar until she was close enough to touch the she-dragon. Pulling their joint hands up, he placed Y/N's palm on Vhagar's side. The Prince observed Y/N's face switch from one of trepidation to a look of of wonder as he smoothed their hands down the tough surface of Vhagar's scales. His dragon was not perturbed in the slightest, a relaxed hum reverberating through her as she huffed out soft tendrils of smoke.

He knew that Vhagar could feel the great importance the girl beside him held for Aemond, could feel his love for her, through their shared bond. And as such she would not harm her. But it warmed his heart to see the two great loves of his life interact. His bond with Vhagar had been the most important connection in his life before he met Y/N. She was his only friend, their bond with one another unequivocal, unbreakable. Introducing Y/N to Vhagar felt like baring the most essential parts of his soul to her. He hoped that Y/N might even agree to a ride with Vhagar in the future as she grew more comfortable with his dragon, and his heart raced with excitement at the prospect. There was no feeling like riding high in the skies, as if touching the heavens, nothing so pure as the trust between a dragon and it's rider. Aemond wanted to experience this with Y/N in time.

Y/N allowed the Queen to manage preparations for her wedding entirely, grateful there would only be a small wedding feast afterwards. The Queen had been nothing but warm and welcoming to her since she'd witnessed Y/N defending her son so vociferously. Y/N would be forever grateful to Helaena for teaching her the basics of dancing and only hoped she would not embarass herself too greatly, though she was excited at the prospect of dancing with Aemond. There was only one matter she had a strong opinion on, and that was her dress. One conversation with Helaena had convinced her that her dress should be blue. The Queen had seemed unsure at first, the common colour being white, but did not see the harm if Y/N was adamant.

Though Y/N was racked by nerves on the morning of her wedding, she was overjoyed by the way her dress had turned out. The soft midnight blue fabric and the golden detailing shifted elegantly as she moved, and Y/N thought it resembled the night sky. She only hoped Aemond would also like it. Butterflies erupted in the pit of her stomach as she faced the long expanse of the aisle of the Sept, her arm interlocked with the Prince Aegon's.

Aemond's brother had been surprisingly pleasant to her, despite his reputation for being somewhat of a menace at court, and had offered to walk her down since she had no surviving male relatives of her own to do so. Searching Aemond out, she felt her nerves settle somewhat at the sight of him, handsome garbed in his ivory tunic and with a soft smile upon his face as he took her in. Taking his hand in hers, Y/N felt a wave of calm rush over her at how their hands fit together, as if made for one another. Her feeling of contentment, of pieces falling into place, only intensified as they spoke their vows and Aemond placed a cloak embroidered with the colours of House Tagaryen over her shoulders.

The wedding feast itself passed with little ceremony, including only a small gathering of nobles. Aegon had sunk into his cups early into the evening and managed to make a fool of himself drunkenly pulling Y/N about the room in the semblance of a dance, insistent that he should "welcome his new sister into the family properly" before she was rescued by her husband. Her heart fluttered at the thought as she placed her hands on his shoulders and he pulled her close to lead her in the steps of the dance. Aemond did not much like to dance, but that night he did for Y/N and found he did not mind so much when it was his wife he held in his arms rather than the simpering noble ladies that had been thrust upon him at feasts before. As the hour grew late and Y/N felt herself growing overwhelmed under the watchful gaze of the courtiers, they made to retire to their chambers. Aegon had just barely spoken the words "bedding ceremony" before Aemond fixed him with a glare so fierce he immediately quietened and went back to his cups.

Shutting the doors to their shared chambers, his heart warming at the thought, Aemond's smile fell as he turned to see his wife anxiously wringing her hands and shifting from one foot to the other. He gently gripped her shoulders. "Are you well, my love?"

"I confess I am a little afraid." Realisation dawned upon him. It was not uncommon for ladies to be concerned about their wedding night, but he did not wish his wife to be.

"You needn't be. We do not have to do anything. I can just hold you."

Aemond's felt a surge of guilt at Y/N's still uneasy expression, he hated to think she felt she had to do anything she was not yet comfortable with out of duty. It was more than enough for him that she was now his wife. He wished her to understand that he would never force her, or pressure her for anything more than she would allow.

Gently taking her hand he purposefully pulled her away from the bed to the chaise in the centre of the room. "Come, sit and talk with your husband a while."

He hoped if he continued on as they normally would, Y/N would feel less nervous. Keeping hold of her hand in both of his he turned to her, mouth quirked up in a conspiratorial smirk. "You have been thoroughly inducted into House Targaryen now with all its foibles. I hope Aegon's fool hardy behaviour did not alarm you too much. I must warn you that I will not allow myself to be parted from you even if it did."

Aemond felt his heart warm at her laugh, hoping she was beginning to feel more comfortable. They talked for a while before Y/N suddenly quietened, her expression sheepish. Aemond squeezed her hand gently, concerned that his wife might be afraid of him by the way she was looking at him. Her next words quickly dispelled that thought. But they instilled in him a different fear entirely, causing him to stiffen as she tentatively raised a hand to brush against his cheek, along the strap of his eyepatch.

"May I see you without your eyepatch, husband?"

Aemond caught her wrist, halting her movements, his voice laced with an admixture of shame and fear he had carried with him since he had lost his eye. He had gained a dragon, the largest and fiercest in the world, but he had been irreparably maimed for it. It was an act of violence that had changed the way people looked at him ever since and he could not bear it if Y/N should look at him with disgust or horror, or shame. "It is an ugly thing, my love. Not for the faint of heart."

"It is a part of you, Aemond. I will not judge you for it. I wish only to look upon the face of my husband, who I love dearly."

Aemond closed his eyes briefly, trying to control the erratic beating of his heart as he sought a way to distract his wife from her current train of thought, to disway her from her wish to see what lay beneath his eyepatch. He did not know if he could part with this layer of armour, the fear of rejection palpable in the air between them.

"I do not know..."

Y/N cut him off before he could give his excuses.

"If you will not show me, will you tell me how it happened? If it is not too painful. I know that it was your nephew Lucerys who was to blame." Aemond was surprised by the biting tone of his wife's voice as she spoke the name of his nephew. But he was grateful for the escape she had offered him and so he told her everything. Of how he had so oft been an outcast, jeered at by his brother and nephews when his dragon egg failed to hatch. He told her of how they'd mocked him with the promise of a dragon, only to present him with a pig. He told her of how he'd tried to offer his nephew Jacaerys comfort upon the death of Harwin Strong, of how he'd been rebuked and sought out Vhagar. How he'd claimed the largest dragon in the world, and how he'd lost an eye for it.

All the while Y/N stroked the side of his face, his hair, her eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowing at each painful memory Aemond recalled. When he'd finished, she pulled him to her, his head coming to rest in the crook of her neck. "I hate that you have suffered so much at the hands of those who should love you. I wish I had been there for you." Aemond felt his heart seize, unused to such care, such devotion to his well being. "I do not wish to distress you, my wife. I am perfectly content now."

Y/N huffed. "I always want you to feel comfortable telling me about these parts of yourself Aemond. I would like a word with your nephews though" she grumbled out under her breath. Aemond let out a hearty laugh at that, clutching his wife tighter to him "Perhaps it is not Vhagar my enemies should fear, but my fearsome, protective wife. I have long since forgiven Lucerys, it is his lack of punishment that has always pained me, rather than the act itself."

Y/N pulled away from him to look into his face, cupping his cheek where his eyepatch rested. "Then you are a better man than most."

As gratitude for his wife's care washed over him, Aemond felt that he did not need to hide from Y/N anymore, that it might be a relief for her to see him as he truly was without the fear of her reacting negatively. She had not judged him at any moment for his scar or as he told her of the misfortunes of his childhood. Had she not been the one to mend the very eyepatch he now wore upon his face the day they had met, knowing what it meant to him? He trusted her fully, and would show her as much.

"I do not mind if you wish to see it, my love." Taking strength from the warmth of his beloved's hand he placed both their hands atop the strap of his eyepatch and slowly removed it from his face, leaving only the sapphire where his eye should have been. He closed his good eye, not wishing to see his wife's initial reaction, aware the sight was ghastly and harrowing for most. The soft touch of her fingers down the line of his scar grounded him, reassuring him that she was not disgusted with him. She did not despise him.

"It is beautiful, Aemond."

Aemond snapped his eye open, looking at Y/N as if she'd lost her mind. "Beautiful? I expected you to shriek or faint at the sight of it. You are always surprising me Y/N."

"I think every part of you beautiful, the sapphire compliments you well. Why did you think I had a blue dress made? It is not the common colour for a wedding gown."

"You had your dress made to match me?"

Aemond spoke slowly, each word latent with barely repressed emotion.

Y/N nodded eagerly. "Yes, Helaena told me of your sapphire. I know it is not common knowledge but I thought it might please you."

Moved by his wife's sweet gesture, Aemond pulled her towards him so she was halfway in his lap, one hand holding her head to his chest.

"I worried you would hate me for it, that you would come to regret tying yourself to a man with such a deformity when you are perfection itself."

Y/N pulled back from him then, all seriousness as she considered how best to show Aemond that his scar did not make him any less in her eyes, that she love all of him.

"I could never hate you, and it does not frighten me. If anything I only love you all the more for allowing me to see you this way, for trusting me. And as to me being perfect, I assure you it is only you who thinks so and I most certainly am not."

Leaning over Aemond, Y/N placed a trail of kisses along the length of his scar, pulling away to rest her hand on his cheek. "You will always be the most handsome man to me. My brave husband."

Y/N lowered herself from her position leant over him until she was straddling Aemond, his hands moving to her waist to keep her secure as he gazed up at her in awe. Bringing her lips to his, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself as close as she could to him. In the comfort of his arms and with the feel of his lips on her, Y/N realised she had never felt so safe, so seen with anyone as with Aemond, and her previous worries dissipated. She parted her lips, allowing Aemond to deepen the kiss, before reaching one hand down to take hold of Aemond's.

He did not oppose her as she moved it from her waist to place it on her collarbone, slowly moving it down her chest until it rested over her breast. She heard Aemond's breath hitch but steeled her courage as she continued to move her lips against his, all the while trailing his hand down her torso, her hip and finally her thigh. Aemond pulled away from her then to look into her eyes, seemingly searching for any doubt. "Are you sure, my heart?"

Y/N had never been so sure of anything in that moment as she was of her love for Aemond and his love for her. Bringing her hands up to his shoulders she pressed her lips to his forehead. "Yes."

Aemond smiled tenderly at her, his voice soft as he ran his fingers through her hair. "Avy jorrāelan." He knew that she would understand what that meant from the tone of his voice. Pressing her closer to him still, if that were possible, the prince crashed his lips against hers.

Valyrian translations:

Avy jorrāelan~ I love you

Iksā gevie~ You are beautiful

Issa jorrāelagon ~My love

Nuha prumia~ My heart

This might be the prettiest a man has ever looked. I was in shock your honour.

Also. How the fuck did he do this????!!!!

@zoetje2004 @jjkysnk @ieieibhibu8 @skymoonandstardust @truly-abysmal @idonotknowenglish @leonesimp @hyacinthesiss @nanawaffles @callsigncrushx @bitchyfestivalbouquet @void21 @sapphiresandferrari @pinkykats-place

@lportes-22

@superintenseart @youknownothingjohnwatson

@misspinkonmars @ateliefloresdaprimavera

[lvis44]

Sweet Escape - The Wedding Pt.1 // LH44

Lewis Hamilton x Y/N

Warnings: Language, Alcohol Consumption, its really just a whole lot of fluff

Word Count: 1.7k+

Summary: Paradise is supposed to be fun and relaxing... a Sweet Escape, but when unspoken feelings and jealousy rise to the surface, everything can be turned upside down in the blink of an eye.

Notes: The beginning of the long awaited wedding! I have decided I will be releasing this in chunks, I cannot guarantee when each one will be coming but it will all be in the universe soon enough. I love you all and appreciate those of you have been kind and patient, I'm still here y'all I promise. Once again I cannot follow the same tense while writing and this has not been fully edited.

I am not a professional writer and all of this is a work of fiction and is strictly for fun. Enjoy! xxx

Previous Sections: Prologue - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Epilogue

What if I come and stay until 11:55?” His voice is whiny and desperate, making you laugh.

“Lewis, you have to go before Charlotte and Miles come and drag you.” You tell your pouting fiancé, still laughing at him.

You’re standing outside the fancy restaurant rented for your rehearsal dinner, snow falling around you as people start to clear out. Lewis had been attached to your hip for the last few days, his adoration for you only growing as you two approached your wedding day, The day that you had perfectly planned together.

“Wanna sleep next to you though.” Lewis says quietly, a cheeky smirk on his face as he pulls you against him, his hand traveling down to your bum.

“Lew! My parents are right there.” You whisper shout, grabbing his forearm to move it up to your lower back.

He just laughed, shaking his head before pressing himself against you even firmer, “Seriously, can we stay together just a little while longer? Promise I’ll leave before midnight.”

You could tell his intentions weren’t to sleep and you knew you would be hard pressed to kick him out later in the evening. You’re not a particularly traditional person but you were holding to sleeping apart the night before the wedding, much to his dismay. His mother had been the one to bring it up during wedding planning and while Lewis thought it was a horrible concept you were more than happy to go along, it made her happy and it made everything feel even more real. Two suites had been rented for the night at different hotels, mostly to keep Lewis from sneaking into your bed in the middle of the night.

“Bruv, if you don’t let go of her and come get in the damn car, I will remove you myself.” Miles’ voice boomed from behind you, saving you from having to turn your fiancé down yet again.

You couldn’t help but laugh, knowing Miles and Charlotte were tightly wound, the stress getting to them both as if it was their own wedding. You could see that Lewis was finally accepting defeat, rolling his eyes but nodding to Miles, motioning that he would be there in a second.

“It’s fucking crazy that the next time I see you will be at the altar.” Lewis whispers, looking giddy yet anxious.

“Gonna be Mrs. Hamilton tomorrow!” Your voice was quiet as you tried to hold back your squeal of excitement.

You were beyond elated to be marrying your best friend. When he proposed he had made it very clear that you could be engaged as long as you wanted, that nothing needed to be rushed. Only two years later you were here, ready to marry the love of your life in less than twenty four hours.

“Son, I think Miles is going to explode if we don’t all get going.” You hear Anthony laugh from nearby, evidently amused by the frantic state that Miles was in.

“Okay, okay.” Lewis just laughs, glancing at Miles who was now pacing outside of the black town car.

“I love you, get some sleep, need you in tip top shape tomorrow.” You say to Lewis, leaning up to place a family friendly kiss to his lips as you pat his chest

“Yes ma’am, I love you too.” Lewis mumbles against your lips.

Lewis stares at you for a moment, love pouring out of his dark brown eyes before squeezing your waist once more and walking off toward Miles who looks about ready to shove Lewis into the trunk if it means they’ll leave any quicker. Having said your goodbyes to everyone earlier, you make your way over toward Charlotte where she’s waiting by your own matching town car.

“You look much calmer than Miles was.” You laugh as she makes a ridiculous display of opening the door for you.

“Well thankfully I’m in charge of the much easier spouse,” She giggles, following you into the car, “I knew you’d stick to your guns and send him on his way. Miles on the other hand has about ten different plans of ways to just about lock Lewis in his room, pretty sure a straight jacket is on the table.”

You can’t help but laugh, knowing Lewis will more than likely continue to complain throughout the night. You would be lying if you said you truly didn’t want to be next to him for the night, you always sleep better in his arms, but you know one night away from each other won’t kill either of you, you’ve done it countless times before. It’s been rather adorable to you how clingy Lewis had gotten over the past few weeks, it was rather unlike him but you weren’t going to fight it. You know it’s something he does sometimes when he needs to ground himself, and right now his emotions are at an all time high. There had been a few snafus with decorations and such in the weeks leading up to now, each one seemed to wind him that much tighter, the perfectionist in him struggling.

When you arrived in the suite you were exhausted and ready for your pajamas but knew there was no way you were ready to go to sleep just yet. Your mom was waiting for you in the suite when you arrived, already opening a bottle of wine and urging you and Charlotte to come sit with her, a much needed moment of decompression. You’ve been busy all day; last minute preparations, the wedding rehearsal, the rehearsal dinner with all of both of your families. You were drained yet still so full of adrenaline. Being around Lewis all day had helped immensely, always so in tune with each others moods and needs, more than once he had rescued you from a conversation that felt like it had just gone on too long. It also helped that he was bubbling with excitement and energy, even after so long you frequently questioned where he got it, the level rarely faltering.

It wasn’t long before Charlotte was excusing herself to go get ready for bed, leaving you alone with your mom.

“This is all still so crazy to me.” Your moms voice is quiet and kind.

“Which part?” You laugh, taking a sip of your wine.

“All of it!” You mom says, gesturing into the air, “The fact that my baby is getting married, that her wedding is in a castle, that she’s marrying a man that we watched and admired racing for years, the fact that he’s the love of her life, just all of it.”

You couldn’t help but smile at your moms little rant, because it was true, so much of it felt surreal but everything was perfect.

“I wouldn’t trade any of it for the world.” You tell her softly, sincerely, taking a moment to think back on everything that has happened over the last three years.

Growing up, Sundays were reserved for F1, you and your mom massive Hamilton fans from the very beginning of his career. When you had told her that you had met him she freaked out nearly as much as you originally had, fangirling in a way you had never thought possible. Your dad thought it was impressive too, making a comment about you never leaving the city to come home and visit them now that you were hanging out with celebrities. When you told your parents that you were dating, your mom was incredibly happy for you but never let her admiration of Lewis get in the way of her daughter's well being, she made sure to check in with you frequently, always worried that his distance and status may be taking a toll on you. Your father on the other hand was less than pleased when he first learned about your relationship, preconceived notions about Lewis’ personal life and persona taking over, less than pleased with the age difference between the two of you. It took a while, but Lewis was able to win him over and you’ve never been more grateful for anything, you were desperate for all the people you loved to get along.

Now you had a fiancé who spoke with your father without you needing to be around, a mother who had befriended Lewis’ mother and stepmother and adored him, and were mere hours away from becoming his wife. Life truly does come at you fast.

“You’re ready?” Your mom asked, breaking the silence that had settled in the room.

“I truly don’t think I’ve ever been so ready for something. I’m nervous of course but there’s no one else that I would rather be with for the rest of my life. I’m sure of that.” Your voice was confident as you spoke, meaning every word.

“I’m so glad you found someone so good for you hun, he truly is a dream. Hell, I wish I had met someone like him when I was your age,” Your mom laughed, sending you a wink, “don’t tell your dad I said that.”

“Secrets safe with me,” You giggled back, “but I don’t think there’s another one of him.”

“Not that I’ve ever seen.” Your mom shrugged, the soft smile never leaving her face.

You can’t help but giggle at the conversation you're having with your mother. You’ve never been one to be sappy but the emotions boiling inside of you leading up to your big day are sending you over the edge, truly letting all the cliche thoughts you have about Lewis come to the forefront.

“You, my dear, need to get to bed. You have a long day ahead of you and need to be well rested for your night.” Your mom winked making you groan through a laugh.

“Mom!” You buried your head in your hands.

You and your mom have always been open with each other about every aspect of your life but you didn’t need to hear her joke about you consummating your marriage.

“But truly, you should try to get some sleep.” She laughed at your embarrassment, trying and failing to come off seriously.

“You’re right, I’ll try.” You say, rolling your eyes as you finish off the last of the wine in your glass

[loveephia]

TOO ATTRACTED | kita shinsuke

sypnosis: in which kita is crushing over you, his wife, all over again.

content: (🦷) tooth-rotting fluff, kita admits his "troubles" to the reader, he's so romantically dense it's cute, round-cheeks-kita headcanon, aran is mentioned, sorta sucky writing and a reuse of certain phrases and actions from my older posts, timeskip, inspired by that one guy on reddit.

⚠ warning/s: none.

kita shinsuke is starting to feel like he did during his high school years again.

he doesn't know when or how it came to this, where he can't take his eyes off of you, or how everytime you touch him it feels like electricity, but he's starting to think that he's fallen ill.

his face gets warmer, both figuratively and literally, at the mere sight of you. have you always had this effect on him?

kita can't help but sweat when you're close. the way you snuggle into his side to steal all of his warmth almost made him flinch, as if this wasn't already a daily routine for you two.

every time you surprise him with a long kiss, he feels the need to hold you for support. by the waist, he prefers.

and whenever kita sees you playing with your wedding ring (a habit you developed), his heart swells. it's like a little reminder that he's married to you.

kita is lost in thought, and you just so happened to notice. "shin?" you call from the kitchen. kita faces you and sees you slicing some fruit, "are you okay?" you ask.

kita doesn't nod. maybe he can ask you why he's feeling this way. "can we talk?" kita asks, and you nod, making your way over to the couch, placing the bowl of fruit on the table in front of you. "what's on your mind, love?" you ask.

"love.." the nickname you called him every day, and every other day. he can feel your effect on him taking place already; with the way his heart was beating erratically against his ribcage, and the fact that he tries not to fidget with his own fingers.

"i— uhm.." did he just stutter? "..did you do something with yourself lately?" kita asked. you tilt your head before shaking it, "no, not that i can remember. why do you ask?" you respond.

"then i think i'm coming down with a flu." kita says. you widen your eyes that are filled with nothing but care, "really?" you lean over and gently place your hand under kita's bangs and on his forehead. somehow, the effect you had on him doubled.

his breath hitches from the proximity that he should be used to by now. he patiently waits for you to pull away and give him his diagnosis, but you only shrug. "i don't feel anything out of the ordinary.."

kita sighs, maybe it's best if he just tells you what's on his mind. "i just— i feel like how i did when we still attended high school." he says. you quirk a brow, not properly understanding his point of view, "what do you mean by that, shin?"

"whenever you walk into a room, aran would tell me how red my face got. i feel the need to protect you a lot more lately. not because i think you're incapable of defending yourself, but because i just want to. and when you kiss me.. i feel stiffer than usual." kita rants. "my eyes linger on you a little longer than it should, but i can't help it. you're just.." he pauses, seeing the soft smile on your face as you listened.

"so beautiful." he says, breathless.

you caress his round cheek that happened to be painted with a red hue. "now i'm no psychologist, but i think you're in love with me, shin." you said.

kita blinks at you. "but i've always loved you. why did i start feeling this way again only until recently?"

"how you felt when you were younger was probably just a crush, whereas it all felt new to you. being bashful over the person you like is normal." you explained, "like irina firstein said, "feelings don't dissipate over time, but only get stronger and deeper." so you might've just had a shift in the way you feel love now."

"but, alas, love is pretty weird, no?" you giggle.

kita nods, a small smile making its way on his handsome face.

© lowercase intended | loveephia

[eatmeandbirthmeagain]

AUGH

Could you do a fic about unrequited love?

Mayhaps Baldwin IV really loves the reader, but they cannot be together because an ongoing conflict, the y/n or whoever may or may not know that he loves her, you can take this trope ANYWHERE YOU WANT

(ps, you know who I am)

♧ Unrequited Love - King Baldwin x Reader ♧

♧ Angst ♧

A/N: Hello "Anon" (I know who you are 🤭). Thank you for the cute request, I hope its what you had in mind! Sorry for hitting you guys twice in a row with angst 😭. I swear tomorrows fic will be nice and fluffy!! As always, this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven, not the real historical figures. Enjoy!

TW: Leprosy, Angst

It was late when Baldwin finally retired to his tent. Tired, yet relieved at how well the day had gone.

Only sixteen years old and already away leading a battle. The day had been productive with three more of Saladin’s camps captured. It wouldn't be long now.

Still, his heart ached. Not for his kingdom, but for the one thing that had not left his mind since the battle had begun.

Y/n.

the daughter of a very wealthy Arabian lord who had sworn the young woman's hand in marriage to Baldwin years ago, despite their conflicting religions. It was a symbol of peace between the two lands.

They had practically grown up together, seeing each other whenever they could, writing to each other every single day.

But since the war had started, the man had retracted his word. Y/n and Baldwin were not to be wed any longer.

The news had broken the young king's heart. He refused to speak with anyone for days. Y/n was just as shattered. She loved him more than anything, even when the news of his leprosy diagnosis came, she stayed by his side. Still anticipating the day they could finally hold each other. Now that day would never come.

Like Baldwin, she refused to speak with anyone. Especially her father. She had cursed him out that day, swearing that she would one day leave his home to be with the man she loved, with his blessing or not.

Every day since the battle began, they would write to each other in secret.

Baldwin sending one of his men to deliver the letter by hand and y/n receiving it each time with even more excitement than the last. Baldwin told her stories of war and she read every word on the edge of her seat.

They would speak of their love and how one day, they would meet again. No matter the outcome of the battle. Y/n swore that if her father even dare contemplate the idea of wedding her to another man that she would run away into the desert, for the very idea of being with any man other than her beloved king was too much to bear. For both of them.

They dreamed of going away together. Leaving everything behind and getting on a boat to somewhere beautiful, like France or Italy. Building a cabin in the countryside, raising a family.

Finally being happy. Finally being together.

Of course, this would not happen. At least for the moment.

The kingdom needed a king to light their way through the dark days of war, and y/n was more than happy to wait. She would wait as long as he needed to if it meant finally being the man she loved more than life itself.

She would wait an eternity if it meant seeing his beautiful face once more.

One day, they would be together.

One day..

[heartnanase]

scaramouche

i dont know what this is but my love life has been cooking recently so i decided to write again after months (i’ve been left on delivered for 16 minutes so you guys get angst)

“look seriously? don’t be like that— hey! wait! it wasn’t my choice! the fatui? i wanted you to be safe!”

“im getting married. deal with it.” you said while quickly walking, holding onto the sides of your heavy wedding dress, not even 3 minutes into putting on your outfit and you already regret wearing heels. “who? tartaglia huh?” he looked like a fool, you assumed he did at least. getting the courage to look at him was difficult. “it’s ajax.” you coldly say. you could picture his eye roll in your head as he mumbles a “whatever.” all you could do was watch his shadow in the corner of your eye trying to match your pace, while he reached to grab your hand. you angrily turn to him. “no! no just go! its been five years and now i’m just supposed to believe that you suddenly want me again?” all he can do is stare at your teary eyes, he chuckles. scaramouche isn’t making fun of you, but he thinks it’s cute when you’re upset. it’s weird, you had no clue why you were crying. was it cause the way he trims his hair now is different? was it cause his voice has changed, it sounds restless; was it cause it’s been so long? or was it because your heart still beats the same for him as it once did years ago. it didn’t matter how you felt anymore, you had a husband. well you will have a husband. so—

“listen okay? i just needed you to be safe” he cuts off your thoughts. scaramouche is nervous, he thinks he’s hiding it well with his smirk but he’s really not. you watch as he awkwardly try and fix his posture and grins at you, shoving his hands in his pocket hoping you didn’t notice his shaky fingers. you couldn’t stay here with him much longer, ajax would be furious. it’s not like you loved ajax, nor did he love you. it was a mutual agreement that your marriage would be perfect considering you and ajax both came from respectable families. however your dad always hated scaramouche, and you wish you listened to your father about how boys like him are pieces of shit. “you don’t get to decide that!”

scaramouche scoffs, “so what? what would that make me if i was the reason you died?” you slowly gulped as you both stood in science. he sighs and continues, “look i love you okay i still do and being away from you was one of the hardest things i’ve done!” you kinda always hoped the break up hurt scaramouche, even if it was just a little bit. you hoped that seeing you with someone else makes him bite his inner cheek. so it makes you feel better about drawing doodles of him. and making playlists dedicated to him. and learning the stupid piano just so you could play his favourite songs. “you have no right… no right to come back into my life!” your lip quivered, “it took me so long to fall asleep without you. do you know how difficult it is to eat with a heavy heart? maybe you didn’t kill me physically but the world stopped spinning the day you left so if you’re trying to come back the moment i’m starting to feel okay i’m not letting you.” of course you still loved him, but he was the reason why you put such restrictions on love. and now you cant even break your own rules, not even for him. scaramouche opens his mouth to speak but a voice calls out for you.

“hey! ajax is looking for you!” a guest you didn’t even know yelled from across the room. you look at scaramouche one more time before walking past him.

[nolita-fairytale]

don't want to walk alone | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader | chapter one: june/july

summary: you and carmy plan a wedding like it's the opening of a new restaurant.

warnings: swearing, eventual smut, lots of tooth rotting fluff, marriage, no use of y/n, second person pov

wc: 3.4k

listen to: let's get married (bleachers cover) - mitski

a/n: the long awaited wedding FIC!! welcome to part four of the 'make my heart surrender' universe (four part series). this takes place a month after the end of 'still into you' but before the carmy as your baby daddy headcanon series (my carmy masterlist is organized chronologically, if you'd like to read in order). anyways, i truly adore writing for these two and feel it important to note that after watching season 2, i've realized this has just become an animal of its own -- its own universe/timeline/entity which also means there AREN'T any SEASON TWO SPOILERS! this chapter was inspired by a conversation from two months ago between me and @carmensberzattos so courtesy of us, enjoy some healthy relationship-future husband!carmy. also don't worry syd will be starring in the next chapter. i missed her too. lmk if you wanna be added or removed from the taglist.

masterlist | part two

"let's just get married, don't wanna walk alone, so let's get married, 'cause we don't wanna walk alone or runaway." (bleachers, let's get married.)

'I just want to be married to you' are the words uttered (first by you, you think, but maybe he said it first, you really can’t remember) that lead you and Carmy to the decision that you should elope. Sooner rather than later, preferably, is what you both agree on. It’s not like you’re planning on having a big wedding anyways. How much work can a civil ceremony at City Hall and a nice dinner party afterwards be to pull off?

Famous last words. 

You’re not sure how you’ve gotten from there to here, locked in a heated debate over menu edits with your fiance in the middle of your shared apartment when the sun’s just barely come up, but here you are.

“I’m just saying that we should be open minded and leave room for his artistic integrity!” Carmy passionately argues, winding you up as he makes his case. 

“Artistic integrity? Carmy, are you kidding me right now? I-!” you fire back, shaking your head incredulously. “We said we were gonna keep everything chill.”

“It is chill!” he defends, matter-of-factly.

Oh, he’s just looking for a fight.

“There is nothing chill about a parm espuma and it certainly doesn’t belong anywhere near the carbonara!” you scoff, stubbornly. “I mean, the only reason he even brought up the idea of a goddamn espuma in the first place is because he was trying to impress you.”

Carmy’s jaw twitches in response as he grinds his teeth, a display of discomfort at the mere thought.

“He-he was not,” he denies with the kind of conviction of a five year old toddler who's sure as can be.

You shoot him a look. 

“Carmen,” you warn him. 

Sure it’s a silly thing to fight about, but there’s no malice in this argument. It’s all passion, artistry, and for lack of a better term, foreplay. You let out a sigh, softening before you rise out of your chair. 

“Baby, when are you going to admit that you’re kind of a big deal and that people want to impress you?” you level with him, making your way over to your very stubborn and very insistent fiance. You settle down onto his lap, before tucking a stray curl behind his ear as you break, giving the sweetest smile.

He laughs dryly, averting his eyes from you because he’s not sure how much longer he’ll be able to stand his ground (especially when you’re looking at him like that). 

You’re right. And he knows you’re right. 

And Carmy’s never been able to resist you for long anyways. 

A fox-like grin spreads across your lips and you know you’ve won the argument when you feel a pair of hands snake around your waist. 

“Don’t push it,” he warns you, seeing the look on your face as he shakes his head, finally returning his eyes to yours. 

You raise an eyebrow, “You like that I push.” 

He nods slowly in surrender, his face softening as he asks you:

“You really want to fight about this?” 

You shake your head with a laugh. 

“No, of course not! Of course, I don’t want to fight about this!” you exhale, sliding your hands over his shoulders to wrap around his neck. “But I do think that your new buddy is trying to impress us and that it may be wise for us to reign him in – clear the air on what it is we’re looking for.” 

A beat. 

“Don’t get me wrong. Of course, we can leave room for creativity… but I don’t want our wedding party to turn into some pretentious fine dining fancy party.”

“Well, we did meet because of some pretentious fine dining fancy thing,” he points out, giving your hip a squeeze. 

You giggle, “How could I forget?”

You shake your head once more, leaning in to press your lips against his. Carmy inhales deeply, enjoying the feel of your lips on his, your arms wrapped around his neck, the weight of your body on his lap. 

You indulge him for a moment, deepening the kiss as you feel your future husband relax against you, because you really are happy that Carmy’s made a new friend. 

Carmy had met a private chef a few months ago and had been trying to hire him for the restaurant for a while now. Wanting to work for himself, the chef had respectfully declined all advances, but he and Carmy had kept in touch, and it looked as if the relationship could potentially extend outside of the four walls of a kitchen. Since you both agreed that no one from the restaurant should work the party, it had been good timing (making a new friend and the fact that he was a private chef) and the right move for Carmy to ask his new friend to cater the wedding.

“Fine,” you resign yourself, pulling away from the kiss. “Derek can keep the liquid nitrogen but that is as far as it goes.”

Carmy shoots you a look – one that says he’s not quite convinced. 

“And I will be more open minded in the spirit of… artistic integrity. But I’m not changing my mind about courses. Family style or bust, baby,” you negotiate, a serious look in your eyes. 

Carmy thinks it over for a moment before finally coming to a resolution. 

“Deal,” Carmy nods with the same intensity as a ‘yes, chef.’

You nod too, completing the agreement. 

“I want it to be real, Carm. I want it to be us,” you reiterate, your voice soft as you make your condition loud and clear. 

“I know,” he returns, just as determined and committed to the idea as he is to you. 

You’re satisfied with the resolution – even more satisfied with the fact that you’ve come to it together. 

“You know…” he starts, something in his voice that you can’t quite make out, unsure if you’re going to like what’s about to come out of his mouth. “... it could be a perfect menu if you just let me-.”

“Don’t even finish that sentence, Carmen!” you interrupt, knowing exactly what he was going to say. 

You are so not playing this game today.

“You don’t even know what I was-!”

“Yes, I do! You are not catering your own wedding party,” you protest, adamantly.  

You know him too well. 

He laughs, shaking his head as he leans back against his chair, like he’s in high school again, and you’ve just caught him sneaking back into the house. 

“God, I love you! But sometimes you drive me up the wall, Carm,” you groan out of frustration, eliciting another laugh from his chest as you hang your head, resting your forehead against his shoulder this time.

“Such a control freak,” you sigh, against his chest. 

“Thought you like it when I take control,” he murmurs, beginning to leave kisses across your exposed skin. 

You giggle partially because it tickles, and mostly because of what Carmy’s said. 

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

You lift your head and Carmy kisses you again, this time savoring the way your lips feel against his for a little while longer – just long enough to remind himself that he wants to have the option to sneak away in the middle of your wedding party to have sex much more than he wants cater to be in control all the time. 

Sometimes, he thinks to himself, control is overrated anyways. 

Only sometimes.

“Okay, okay,” he mutters, letting go of the idea. “I’ll get back to Derek about final menu edits and make sure he knows that while we want him to be creative, we also want to keep it… you know….”

“Chill?” you emphasize. 

“Chill,” he confirms.

“Okay. Thank you, baby,” you smile softly, trying your best to enjoy the temporary moment of peace between the two of you. Carm squeezes your hip as you roll your eyes with a sigh, muttering an:

“Oh fuck.” 

“What’s up?”

You shake your head again, laughing incredulously before letting out another sigh. 

“Just wait till we go through this again with the cake.”

“Fuck!” Carmy shouts towards the ceiling, throwing his head back as you laugh. “Why did we say we wanted to plan a wedding again?”

“Well baby, I don’t think either of us can pass up on a chance to create a menu,” you giggle, leaving a few kisses along his jawline before you make your way up to his nose. “Can you imagine if we decided to have a full-on wedding? That’d be a freaking mess.”

He chuckles, “It’d be like opening another restaurant.”

“Yeah, pass,” you hum, so glad to have dodged that bullet.

-----------------------------------------

By the time you and Carmy are even ready to focus on the cake portion of said wedding-dinner-party it’s a month later. You’ve been through half of the bakeries in the city, you think, and something’s just felt off. You’re practically eating your words, as it dawns on you that you’re having the exact same thought as Carmy: that it could just be perfect if you were able to make it yourself. 

Then again, you remind yourself that a cake is an entirely different thing versus running a dinner service, so it can’t be that unhinged to have these thoughts, right?

But you and Carmy made an agreement, so in solidarity, you decide it’s only fair for you to make like Tammy Wynette and stand by your man. 

You’re grateful for the half day you have today (“Summer Fridays”, as it’s so fondly referred to around your office) – and the fact that you get to work from home. What it means for you is that today you can clock out early and pick up samples from the tenth bakery (okay, so maybe it’s the eleventh but truthfully, you’ve lost count) in the running for your wedding cake. 

You change out of your pajamas for the first time today, throwing on a slip dress and one of Carmy’s crisp, white Ralph Lauren button downs – worn layered and open like a cardigan – before you head to the bakery, and then eventually, The Bear.

The restaurant is closed for the afternoon, as they do a shift change over: some stay and take a break, others go home, let the dinner crew come in and take over. It’s different these days and while some days you miss it – the hustle and bustle of the kitchen, the sounds of an ‘all day’ shouted by the expeditor, the careful dance that is working in a kitchen – you remind yourself that you’re enjoying a half day, and that when you’d chosen to leave, you were ready for a change. 

After entering The Bear, you make small talk with Gary while he finishes turning over the dining room for dinner, catching up over the flag football league he’s recently joined – one, it seems, to be taken very seriously by all participants. You tell him that you’re here with wedding cake samples, and he’s more than eager to give you some space to set up, because who doesn’t love free cake? Mid-sentence, Gary gestures towards a table for you to set up on, as you begin to unpack your large brown paper bag. 

“Well, well. Look who it is,” Marcus calls out, as soon as he sees you. “Heard a rumor you were out here. You brought cake?”

“I brought cake,” you repeat as confirmation, turning to see your dear friend and mentee. “But don’t worry. I’ll be thinking about yours the whole time.”

He snickers, moving in for a hug. 

“‘S Good to see you, Chef. How ya been?” he asks, enveloping you in his arms for a tight squeeze. 

“Good to see you too, Marcus. I’m good. Had a half day today so… you know, we’ve just been busy with wedding stuff. But what’s going on with you? What’s new?” you answer, turning the focus back onto him. 

“Oh you know. The usual. Though, I’ve been workin’ on some new shit for Syd’s new menu when I’m not here,” he answers, a broad smile spreading across his lips as he talks about. 

“Jeez, Brooks. I know, Carm’s got ya busy. When the hell do you ever sleep?” you ask, as you shake your head. 

“I don’t,” he answers plainly. 

And just as you’re about to remind Marcus to get some rest, Sugar comes bursting through the front doors, her rounded belly full on display now that she’s had a chance to tell almost everyone the news of her pregnancy. 

“Hey! Sorry I’m running late,” Sugar says, announcing her arrival. “Got tied up running an errand and then I had to stop at the store for Tums. This baby is killing me with the heartburn these days. Fucking christ.” 

“Oh, no big deal. I haven’t even seen Carmy yet,” you shrug, as she mutters a surprised ‘oh’ and Marcus mumbles something about going to get Carmy. “It’s good to see you!”

“Yo, Carm!” Marcus shouts, heading back to the kitchen while you and Sugar exchange hellos. 

“Awww, it’s good to see you too, sweetie,” she smiles, pulling you in for your second hug of the day. 

This is something you miss about working in the kitchen: the camaraderie, the found-family, all the love. 

“Wow this is… quite the spread,” Sugar mentions, eyeing the cakes you’ve laid out on the table.

“Yeah… they had a lot of ideas, I guess,” you say with a shrug. 

Sugar shoots you an unconvinced look. 

“Okay, fine.  I had a lot of ideas…” you admit guiltily. 

“...aaaand no one is going to do it the way you want it to be done,” Sugar sighs in the middle of your sentence. 

“And they were more than willing to play. I couldn’t help myself!” you finish, defending yourself. 

“Well, your enthusiasm is one of the many things I love about you, but… yeah, this is a lot,” Sugar grins as she gestures towards the overwhelming amount of cake you’ve just laid out on the table. 

Regardless, Sugar really can’t wait to be your sister-in-law. 

“Speaking of… I thought this was just a small wedding. It looks like you’re preparing to feed the entire French Army during Marie Antoinette’s reign.”

“Oh it still is – small,” you answer, simply. “I went a little overboard, didn’t I?”

“Why go through all this trouble? You might as well have a small ceremony instead of-,”

“No!” you protest, hearing another voice say the same thing. 

“Sugar, we’ve already told you that we don’t want to do anything big!” Carmy adds, as soon as he enters the dining room. 

“Hey, babe,” he says, sending you the softest smile as he looks your way.

“Hey you,” you smile in return as he approaches you, giving him a short ‘hello’ peck on the lips. 

“Fak attack!” Fak cries out, as he enters the dining room. “Ooooh cake tasting!”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, as Fak is quickly followed by some of the line cooks that have just wrapped up lunch service. 

It’s then that you hear Tina’s voice, growling something in Spanish as Richie speaks way too loudly about god knows what, as Ebra follows behind, somehow in the middle of a story that has little to do with whatever Tina and Richie are going on about. 

You smile to yourself, because you really do miss this part. 

“I told everyone we were doing a cake tasting,” Carmy starts, gesturing towards the rest of the staff as they join you. “That cool?”

“Totally. We have more than enough to share,”

“That’s true,” Sugar says. "And I can't complain because the baby is reeeeaaally craving cake these days."

As everyone at The Bear crowd around the circular dining table where you set up the cake tasting, you all enjoy bites here and there, comparing notes, sharing reactions to each flavor combo. 

Earl grey & lemon. A classic red velvet. And of course, you had to get a little weird with the black sesame clementine combination you’d dreamed up with the pastry chef you’d been working with. 

“I think my favorite is the black sesame and clementine but I doubt it’s a cake everyone will like. Doesn’t have the crowd appeal we probably should keep in mind,” you murmur to Carmy as the two of you watch his staff go on about the tiramisu-inspired one. 

“Well, babe, it’s our wedding! We can do whatever we want,” he encourages you. 

“I don’t know,” you sigh, paralyzed with indecision. 

“The tiramisu one is good. I’m leaning towards that,” Carmy shares with you, eager to hear your thoughts. 

“Yeah, I don’t know. Don’t you think it’s a little too on the nose?” you reply, unsettled and unsure that any of these are right. 

“Why don’t you guys just let me make it?” Marcus interjects, asking the question he’s been wondering this entire time. 

“I-,” you start, unable to help the fact that your eyes begin to wet with emotion. “Really?” 

He laughs, glancing sideways at you. 

“Uh yeah. I’m a little offended neither of you did in the first place,” Marcus teases the two of you, though you know there’s some truth to it. 

You and Carmy exchange a look that says something along the lines of: ‘oh shit.’

“Well, we didn’t think you’d-,” you stammer, beginning to explain the why behind you and Carmy’s hesitation in the first place.

“We just thought you’d want to- that you should be able to enjoy the party,” Carmy adds, finishing your sentence, his eyes widening as he realizes that you both kinda fucked up. 

“Chefs,” he says, looking from you to Carmy once more, with a seriousness in his voice as he rises to his feet. “It would be my honor. And just because I’m makin’ the cake doesn’t mean I won’t be able to enjoy the party. I can do it in the days leading up to it.”

“Oh-, okay, yes! Yes!” you cry, leaping to your feet this time, as if you’re accepting Carmy’s proposal again. 

Richie rolls his eyes in response, groaning as he mutters something snarky to Fak, as Marcus pulls you into the biggest bear hug. 

“You all are a bunch of saps,” he scoffs, directing this next comment to Marcus this time. “You big softie!”

“Richie!” Sugar hisses, glaring the sharpest daggers from her eyeballs into Richie’s skull. 

“Oh fuck off, Richie,” you snort, with a laugh. “You’re just salty because… wait. Carm, you haven’t asked him yet?”

“Babe, I-,” Carmy whines, his eyes wide. “You just ruined the surprise!”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah ‘fuck’ is right,” he pouts, though he can never stay upset with you for too long. 

“What the fuck are you guys even talking about?” Richie asks, squinting as he looks between the two of you. 

You and Carmy share a knowing look, deciding that now is a better time as ever. 

“We want you to be our witness, Cousin. At the courthouse,” Carmy says, a soft intensity in his eyes as he answers Richie’s question.

“Jesus Christ,” Sugar snarks, with an eye roll as she realizes she’ll be stuck with him at the damn courthouse as well.

“Wh-?” Richie begins to ask, looking from Carmy to you, then back to Carmy again, tears welling up in his eyes as he realizes what Carmy’s just said. “You-? Really?”

“Yeah, of course,” you reply, in a well-duh kind of tone. “Plus you know I can’t get married without my Ava there.”

“And sign the marriage license and everything?” Richie balks, because he really can’t believe it. 

“Yeah,” you reassure him. 

“Yeah. I mean, fuck yeah! Fuck yeah!” Richie declares, even more sentimental than Marcus this time. “Shit, Cuz… Hell yeah, I’ll sign the fuck out of that marriage license as your witness.”

Tina snickers, exchanging a look with Sugar, and earning a glare from Richie. He lowers his voice, directing the question towards you this time: 

“Oh and uh… cool if Ava still sings “Love Story?” I kinda promised her she could sing a Taylor Swift song as part of my best man speech and she insists that one is about you and Carmy,” Richie asks, looking around suspiciously, afraid of someone else hearing. 

“Awwww, Richie. Of course,” you coo, only melting inside a little at the thought.

“What?” Richie snaps, realizing that he hasn’t been as discreet as he thought he was. 

Sugar snorts in response, earning a laugh from both Tina and Marcus. 

It’s Marcus’ turn to roll his eyes at Richie this time. 

“What?” Richie repeats, this time with a little more annoyance in his voice. 

Sugar smirks, firing back with a:

“Who’s the big softie now, Rick?”

[crimsoncold]

WHAT IT FEELS LIKE IN THE HOTD FANDOM RIGHT now as someone who is disappointed in the show's handling of team green and really just critical the show's writing in general

Team Green Stans and/or HOTD critics:

"I know I'm going to get a barrage of criticism or even hate/harassment for saying this but...

HOTD's writing is rather biased and strays from the source material in ways that are frequently ridiculous, fails to actually improve the story, and totally ignores the anti-war and the general targ/ruling class critical tone of GRRM's writing.

Yes villain or dark character centric shows can be really good even when the purpose of the story isn't to condemn their actions- BUT purposefully changing an adaptation of a story so that it no longer contains the original message/themes that did criticize the characters and their actions is at the very least a questionable writing choice.

The characterization and the messages of the show are inconsistent in a way that doesn't feel intentional or in order to make a point- instead it just doesn't make sense. ALL characters suffer due to the choices of the writers/showrunners- including team black- but team green is obviously getting the worst of it (seriously its cartoonishly bad). It's all so nonsensical and frustrating that it's getting harder and harder to watch- really at this point its no longer even a fun bad! show that can still manage to be entertaining even when the story itself sucks.

Much like with d&d with the later seasons of GOT it's disappointing to see the poor quality of work coming from paid professional writers, this could have been a show about a tragic and dramatic conflict between characters who are mostly bad people yet are still compelling or sympathetic and instead we got ...well...this."

Some Team Black Stans:

"Come on people HoTD is an adaptation so of course things will differ from the books but the show still stays true to the heart of the book, the changes were not a big deal- in fact some were good choices by the showrunners making more disturbing and violent aspects of the book more palatable for the audience without lessening their emotional impact... B&C was toned down not to whitewash team black but because no one should want to see the multiple child homicides from the book take place on screen...and the violence here really isn't as important to the plot as it was for say GOT's red wedding... toning the violent or horrific nature of these deaths down and having it occur off screen is the right thing to do! It's still sad- and this way we didn't need to traumatize the actors OR the audience!

Really people just stop complaining... both sides of the conflict are presented as EQUALLY culpable and in the wrong as the other side, team green stans are just missing the subtle points being made in the show and are exaggerating when they criticize the writing or supposed inconsistent characterization and accuse the showrunner's of being biased.

These TG stans are just being so mean and should stop criticizing the writers/showrunners-who are just doing their job!- and even if they feel they have to criticize the writing it's really just so inappropriate to ever specifically name the writers/showrunners when doing so! It's one thing for fandom to anonymously criticize other fans- especially since TG Stan's takes are so misguided that they obviously need someone to explain to them how they are misinterpreting things- but criticizing the professional writers and showrunners through tumblr posts is out of line! Its not the writer's fault that Alicent and TG are hypocritical or less likable than TB- that may just be how they are in canon- to say that the storytellers are purposefully changing things to make TG less sympathetic or competent than they were in the books and to set them up as the unlikeable antagonistic opposite to the now more tragic and heroic TB is a ridiculous accusation!"

Other Team Black Stans:

"Daemyra is just the best ship, they have loved eachother since she was a teenager and now after years of pining and being kept apart they are finally free to be together, you never see supportive or healthy relationships like this in asoiaf, we stan a man who will do literally anything and kill anyone for his niece wife.

Lucerys was just an innocent baby when he sliced up Aemond's face, he was just protecting his big brother, it only happened because he was afraid for their lives! Viserys made the right choice not to punish anyone since the team black kids only attacked Aemond after he stole Rhaena's dragon and Lucerys was only using self defense when he used a knife on Aemond. Most especially Lucerys and his mother didn't deserve to be attacked by that bitch Alic*nt. And Rheanyra trying to have Aemond tortured for calling her sons bastards was just her being a rightfully protective mother! Team Green means her family harm and no way will a bamf like Rhaenyra let that slide... this is what a good mother does not like that terrible Alic*nt! Lucerys' death was so tragic can't wait to see a grieving mother get her revenge... TG believes in an eye for an eye don't they? Well how will they like a son for a son?

TG stans keep saying that Rhaenyra is just as violent entitled and problematic as anyone else on hotd! They are so wrong! They are just delusional haters that can't stand to see a woman have sexual freedom and be in a position of power! She is the better daughter/wife/mother and the only people she hates are the ones who deserve it!

See she isn't evil like the Hightowers- B&C was an accident and the book description was exaggerated to be used as propaganda against Rhaenyra- she didn't even know it was happening. It wasn't even team blacks intent to kill little Jaehaerys only to kill Aemond- but he's a kinslayer so them sending someone to assassinate their nephew/brother is totally in the right and not something any character in canon would judge them for!... Rhaenyra is just too good of a person to wish harm on any of her innocent family members. Everything that happened to Rhaenyra, Rhaenys, and Meleys is just so tragic... they are the only true queens in this series ...god i wish all of their pain was only experienced by team green lol.

You know what ...are TG stans children or something? Why do they keep complaining that team green is being unfairly villainized to make team black look better? Don't they know they can just watch a show where the characters are flawed/bad people without needing the story to spoon feed the audience the message that bad people need to be condemned? Why do they take things so seriously? Why is this their whole personality? Get a life and stop overthinking a book/tv show -not everything needs to be deep you know so just shut up and enjoy watching the dragons destroy things.

But for real how can you people stan misogynistic women haters like team green or a trad wife/women for trump like Alic*nt? Like yikes what does your fictional character preferences say about you as a person. Hey EVERYBODY look these weirdos are really out here defending and woobifying violent predatory and sexist characters like team green! This fandom is the worse i swear lmfao."

Meanwhile...

Showrunners/Writers:

"What if the civil war, brutal violence, and tragic kinslaying that happened in the dance of dragons was really just a series of accidents and misunderstandings?

What if Rhaenyra and Alicent were friends who never really hated one another, and Alicent was pining for Rhaenyra's friendship and acceptance for the last 20 years, what if neither of them even wanted to go to war?

Who cares about house stark or the pact of ice and fire, or Jace's interactions with Cregan or Sara? You know what Sara Snow doesn't even exist, Jon i mean Jace would never betray his betrothal/loyalty/vows to his dragonrider soulmate and future wife for some stark girl! This whole stark side plot isn't important lets just go back to the dragons!

What if Rhaenyra wanted the throne because she knew that from her descendants the prophesied saviour/prince that was promised would be born? What if instead of her surviving son Aegon being so traumatized by the horrors of this meaningless war that he actually hated and feared dragons afterward- and supposedly was even responsible for killing the last one- it is Rhaenyra who was actually responsible for saving Daenerys' future dragon eggs- and thus she the one who ensured the return of dragons to Westeros! It will be Rhaenyra through her choices and her descendants that will be responsible for saving the entire realm and defeating the others with dragon fire!

What if Alicent pushing her son to be crowned was all because she was a fool who misunderstood the words of her dying husband NOT because she felt her son was unfairly robbed of his birthright by his father?

What happened with Daenerys in the later seasons of GOT was so unfair- just terrible writing -she NEVER should have been made out to be a mad queen and i bet Rhaenyra wasn't actually a cruel or violent ruler either! I bet it was the men who slandered her, and the men who were pushing for war and violence while all the women were actually trying to keep the peace.

Wait...wait.... What if everything in the book that criticized Rhaenyra was actually propaganda made by her enemies to ruin her reputation!?!!? Yeah B&C and team black arranging the horrific murder of a child? That story was TOTALLY team green exaggerating the violent murder of their child/grandchild. Daenerys I mean Rhaenyra deserved so much better... and all the injustices that happened to her will be the most impactful and tragic element of this show.

What if TG didnt actually have strong bonds with their dragon or spend much time riding them?... just more propaganda! Yes! CGI is expensive so this also means we dont really have to show their dragons unless they are fighting the blacks. Team Black's bond with their dragons is much more powerful and important though so we should still show them spending time together and riding them.

What if the book description of the respect and loyalty team green had to one another and the terrible grief they felt at the loss of their family members was ALSO just team green propaganda? What if Alicent only ever struggled as a mother and failed to connect with her kids and actually didn't even like or respect her children? How many kids did she have anyway? Three? Yeah that sounds right. Oh wait! Wait! What if none of TG got along with or trusted one other? No...no...What if they actually hated and betrayed each other? YESSSS!!!!!!!

Team black and their descendants are the true Targaryens, no one is really interested in the boring team green anyways so at least these changes will make them more interesting and better foils for team black! This type of story is exactly what people want I just know they are going to love it."

NOTE: (because i know idiots will be lurking in the anti tags to complain or harass people)

this is mostly meant to be very critical of the showrunners and somewhat critical of a specific type of stanning behaviour and the weird criticism or harassment that gets directed at people who like team green or who criticize hotd - sure i may be exaggerating slightly for effect but l'm STILL pulling from real posts/comments/opinions that I see from TB stans ...Like sure they aren't putting ALL of this in a single post but collectively this is definitely the type of attitude and language many TB stans have

Fandom is just about enjoying a special interest - I dont actually care about or want to police who you stan or ship. I DO care that some of you purposefully and directly harass real people because you disagree with their opinion on fictional characters and that some of you leave uncharitable, ignorant, critical, or unpleasant comments on properly tagged Team Green/anti or TB critical/or hotd critical posts.

Most of all i just find it really funny the juxtaposition there is between how underwhelming and juvenile the show's storytelling choices are compared to how eloquently, persistently, or vehemently fans will write up either criticism or defense pieces for these characters, this objectively bad show, and it's deeply unimpressive writing... like sure some fans put more effort into understanding the source material and comparing it to the show and some put more effort into criticizing or defending the show,the writing, or specific characters but collectively nearly all of us are putting in more time, effort, and thought into hotd than ANY of the showrunners/writers.

In conclusion Guys just like or dislike whatever show/characters you want...you don't have to justify the things you like by being willfully in denial about what canon sources say/the nature of certain characters/or the quality of the show's writing. You definitely don't need to be disrespectful or attack people on behalf of fictional characters or the well paid hbo showrunners/writers.

[lunasdreamytreats]

Best kept secrets

Baizhu x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW // !PSUDO STEPFATHER/STEPDAUGHTER RELATIONSHIP! don't like, don't read // modern au // legal age-gap (Baizhu's in his late 30's, reader's in their early 20's) // drinking wine // reader calls their mother 'mama' // petnames (darling, little girl / good girl) // daddy kink (u call him it a few times and he calls himself it too) // mentions of drugs and aphrodisiacs // begging // oral (m+f receiving) // fingering // dumbification // bad writing (was still finding my writing style as i began writing and its not fully proofread)

Word count: 3.5k... (jeez i went crazy)

A/N: HBD MY LOVE 🥰 I love Baizhu sm, been planning this bad boy forever. Please enjoy and make sure to read the warnings carefully and lmk if I missed something ❤️

'How did this happen again?' You ask yourself as you accept another kiss from the man you knew as your stepfather. It feels so wrong, until you remember how your own mother is a cheating gold digger herself. Virtually your whole life up until a year ago had been on the move. Your mother would marry rich men who owned whole companies or company branches and either bankrupt them and leave or cause a scandal so they go out of business and leave. Over 19 years you’ve had a total of 10 stepfathers and you've never been really close with any of them.

As far as you know, the most recent one is the only one out of your stepfathers that has more than one source of income. He owns the only pharmacy in town while also working as a doctor. It must be taking longer to burn through it than normal, you thought, since you're still there.

You feel as if you should be grateful that your mother hasn't ruined it yet, because you've grown fond of life in this family. Your little sister Qiqi absolutely adores you as her big sister. Although your not sure if your mother knows about this, but your stepdad, Baizhu, absolutely loves being able to spend his money on you. Whenever you get off work he'll wait outside for you in the car with your favourite music ready to play. He'd drive around town with you for half an hour before going to pick Qiqi up from school. If you saw anything you wanted while driving, he'd tell you to quickly jump out and buy it with his card.

“Sweetie I don't care how much it costs if you want it I'll gladly get it for you.” Is what he'd say if you tried to protest in any way, in the end, you’ve just accepted it as him wanting to spoil you. Baizhu was very different to any of your other stepfathers, for one, he's making an effort to bond with you..... Oh and he's young, well, young compared to the others. At only 35 when they got married, he was 2 years your mother’s junior and 17 years your senior.

The 4 of you lived a fairly drama-free life up until tonight, when Baizhu came back home after dropping sweet Qiqi off at her best friend Yaoyao's house for her very first sleepover. He came in and asked you to come downstairs and sit on the couch, saying he needed to ask you about something important. You promptly closed the game you were playing and put the controller back, coming down to see Baizhu in the kitchen with a bottle of white wine and 2 glasses.

“Oh? What's the special occasion, Dad?” You asked before sitting back down with him.

“It's about your mother, (Y/N).” You froze slightly, wanting to ask him if anything bad happened to her. However, before you could speak, he placed one of the full glasses of wine into your hand.

"Do you know if she cheated on any of your other stepfathers, like any one of them?"

“Well I don't know for certain, but I've got a feeling she cheated on all of them, including my father.” You lifted the glass of wine up to the light and swirled the liquid around before continuing.

“Right when she leaves them, I found that either their companies crumbled, or they declared bankruptcy. Some less than 6 months after their wedding. It's happened way too many times to be a total coincidence.” Looking over at him, you saw a small sigh leave his lips as his eyes met yours. The low light of the lamps on the wall adjacent to him made his golden irises glow. ‘Oh fuck that's really pretty.... h-hold on a god damn second, that's your stepdad your talking about, dumbass!’ You quickly shook the thought out of your head and took a sip of wine to distract yourself.

“Why'd ya ask?”

“I saw your mother with someone and they were talking about how long until they can run off together....” You always had a feeling she had an accomplice her little scheme, but a whole ass lover all these years? Baizhu leaned forward in order to put the wine glass back on the counter and shifted to face you.

“Thank you for telling me this, my darling.” Eh why the lovey dovey language? He seems to be awfully calm for someone who just found out what a horrible person his wife is.

“Dad.... now that you've caught mama, when do you want us out of here by?”

“Hm? Why would I kick you out, darling?” Again with the darling! Is this really how fathers express their affection towards their children?

“I-I just thought since she's cheating on you, you wouldn't want her or her child arou-!” He's laughing? How? You thought he'd be annoyed. And yet here he is, not only not giving a toss about the current situation, he's laughing at it.... Why?

“Do you think I'd leave my cute, sweet little girl all alone without someone that loves her like I do? No no no darling. Besides, this is the best time to show you something that I've been planning this last year.” What could that be? You wondered. Come to think of it, from his plans for Qiqi's birthday party to things he's overheard at work, he's never kept anything a secret from you. He stood up and retrieved a piece of paper from inside a safe in the wall that he hid behind his back so you couldn't see what was written on it. As he sat back down, you managed to catch a small glimpse of the contents of the paper, you saw your signature there and what you can only assume is Baizhu's, both written in black ink next to each other at the bottom of the page.

'Oh! He must be holding the adoption papers we signed after the wedding'. You had another quick glance at the paper again before he folded it up and set it down on the table.... What?? You must be hallucinating because your pretty sure the words 'certificate of marriage' were at the top of the page. Hang on, if that's a marriage certificate, then why did you clearly see your signature next to Baizhu's?

“Did you see it, my darling?” Baizhu's words brought you back into the moment at hand, oh, that and his hand resting on your waist. The small gesture causing a shiver to shoot up your spine. “You’re my real wife. And you have been all this time.”

“How?” The reality of this situation hitting you like a boulder made your voice go hoarse, coming out like a broken cry. How was he able to hide something so big for so long? “How did I not notice it?”

“I'll be honest, I only got close to your mother so I could be with you, my darling. I knew what your mother was when I saw her, now she's the only one in the dark about it.” Baizhu's voice broke through the stifling silence around us. This is so weird, you’ve always thought your stepdad was a nice man, in personality, heart and looks. And you’ve told your friends about how you'd like your future partner to be like him. So should you go along with it?

“B-But what about the wedding night? Didn't you and mama have sex?”

“Nope, she ran off after the ceremony, I spent the night in your room.”

“W-what!? How the fuck did I not feel you?”

“Not when you've taken the deep sleep elixir I put in your food. I’d put it in whenever I knew your mother was going out for the night.”

“Oh, so that's why I hardly remember those nights.”

“Fuck, you're so cute when you don't know what to make of a situation, darling. I wonder what your reaction is going to be when I do this?” With no warning, Baizhu pulled you closer, onto his lap, and kissed your neck. The bold action made you gasp in shock. While you were distracted, he took the opportunity to catch you off guard again and kiss your lips. The kiss was just as he was, gentle and full of passion, yet demanding. Letting you know that although he’s being gentle, he’s still the one in control. He’s holding you so soft and tenderly, it makes this kiss feel like a natural part of life. Like your forgetting you two had a completely different relationship before...

That's how it came to you and your stepd- no, your husband making out in the open space of the living room. :)

'This isn't wrong. He's my husband.' You told yourself as you kissed him back. The grip his hands have on the flesh of your hips was so soft, as if he couldn't bare the thought of hurting you. Which, in a way, was true. He couldn’t bare the thought of being the reason you were in pain. As the kiss deepened, he felt more comfortable in exploring your body. His hands gently glide up your body before setting on your chest. His hands circle your body to where the dress zipper and bra clasp were.

As his arms pulled you closer, his fingers grazed the bit of exposed skin, making you shiver at the contact. Pulling away from your lips, Baizhu looked at you with love filled eyes and ran his finger over the neckline of your dress before hooking a finger on it and tugging at the fabric.

“My darling, can I?” He asked, rather breathless from the deep kiss. You could only nod in response until you find your voice. That was another way that Baizhu shows he cares, he was patient when you couldn’t get your words out. It was a thing you had struggled with for most of your life. And although it was a small gesture, it was something that mama never bothered to get right.

“Y-Yes daddy~” You managed to whisper a response, your head already felt dizzy and the neck kisses didn't help. Hearing daddy leave your mouth must’ve awakened something primal in him. With a newfound spark of lust in his eyes and a tightened grasp on you, his teeth grazed the skin of your shoulders. You reached behind your back to start unzipping your dress, only for your wrists to be pulled away and held back in one of his hands, while the other pulled the zip down slowly.

“Shhh~ darling, let daddy take care of you now.” An uncomfortable thought came into your head; ‘what if mama came back without warning to see her daughter, clothes slipping off, on her ‘stepdad’s’ lap making out with him?’ But don’t worry, Baizhu has a plan to deal with her if she comes back early. There’s no chance he’d allow this perfect moment to slip through his fingers again. After he pulled the zipper went all the way down, Baizhu started to gently draw circles on your newly exposed skin. The heat building up between your legs was getting frustrating, so you started to rub your clit on Baizhu's thigh to relieve yourself. Until he noticed and gently held your hips in place.

“Darling, I thought you’d let me take over tonight.. you know what happens to bad little girls that don't obey their daddies, don't you, darling?” Baizhu whispered, gently kissing the shell of your ear before continuing, “They. get. punished.” Taping your shoulder blade with each word. Each tap of his finger sent electrifying waves of pleasure down your whole body. You can’t help but lean into his touch, drunk on how quickly you crumbled under his teasing. One thing was for certain, however, the pleasure you felt was unreplicable.

“M'sorry daddy.. don’t punish me, I-I’ll b’good, please..!” You plead, hoping he’d be merciful on you. Since nobody can blame you for being needy. After a few minutes of drawing circles on your back, your dress and bra went flying off you, yelping when the cool air collided with your breasts. Smirking, Baizhu gave your hips a squeeze as his lips left a trail of kisses from your jawline down your chest, before latching onto the hardening nipple. Swirling around it with his tongue, he copied the motion on the other with his fingers, tugging whenever he sucked. All night, Baizhu had been focusing on giving pleasure to your most sensitive spots, like he already had a mental map of where he should focus on.

While your attention was taken up by the stimulation to your breasts, Baizhu let his free hand snake down, across your tummy to settle between your legs. One touch of his slender fingers to your puffy folds sent you jolting forward into his neck with a moan. Thing is, that one touch was only light, nothing much to most people. But to you? Mind-numbing. Actually, you don’t think you’ve ever been this sensitive to anything before.... it’s like your sensitivity to touch became enhanced. Could Baizhu have given you something to do this?

“You like that, don't you, darling? Good girl. Tell me, who’s making you feel this good?”

“Y-You daddy, s’you makin me feel good”

“Good. Fucking. Girl.” With every word, he swiped the pad of his thumb against the nub of your clit. Your hips subconsciously bucked into his hand with newfound lust. Like your body was chasing after his touch after he retracted his thumb. Baizhu's fingers ghosted over the outline of your clit, prodding at your hole. Easing the tip of his index finger inside while holding you steady. When your body relaxed, letting him know you were comfortable with him inside, Baizhu pushed you to the couch so you were laying on your back with him on top. The hand that’d been holding you steady now moved from your lower back to hold your cheek softly, catching any tears that fell over your eyes.

“Fuuck, you're clamping on me so tight.. I’ve barely even started with you, never thought a little foreplay would be all it takes to get you begging for me so soon, darling.” Don’t mind him though, he’s just being all mean and teasing you! He began slowly moving his finger in and out, slightly curving it to graze your soft inner walls. He added a second finger gently, stretching them apart in a scissor motion and continuing to touch places you couldn't dream of being able to touch on your own.

“Fuuck~ ur fingers~ s'deep!” It almost felt uncomfortable, keyword almost. The tender kisses Baizhu left along your body made any kind of discomfort you felt fade away. That is until a strange feeling came creeping into the pit of your stomach. A twisting and churning sensation like a knot threatening to make your insides explode.

“Ha~~! A-Ahh! D-Daddy, feels weird..!”

“Oh? A weird feeling, you say? That's your orgasm building up, darling.” His thumb quickly swiped against the sensitive nub of your clit, “Now be a good little girl and cum for me...” Your eyes peeped open at his words, only for stars to invade your vision as the knot came undone over his fingers and the couch. Your fucked out expression caused Baizhu to smirk in satisfaction, taking pride in being the only person to ever make you orgasm; other than yourself, of course.

“Good girl... ” Baizhu glanced down to where you both connected, taking note of how his wrist was now slightly wet... Did you squirt over him? Or was it sweat? This encounter certainly left you catching your breath.. Your body twitched sporadically as your walls finally began to relax around his fingers, and you sighed in satisfaction. Feeling you come down from your high, Baizhu gently pulled his fingers out, awestruck at your essence which was now dripping down his digits.

“Daddy... love you” You reached your hands out and Baizhu took them in his own, helping your sit up and kissing your knuckles softly.

“Love you too, darling. Cuddles?” He asked, holding his arms out so you could come to him if you wanted. You practically jumped up and slid into his lap, burying your flushed face into his shoulder. ‘Oh, you’re the type to get all cute and cuddly after sexual encounters...’ Baizhu thought, but that’s fine, he’d give all the cuddles you could ever need if you asked. You feel him gently smile on the top of your head alongside wrapping his arms around your middle.

Of course, with all that Baizhu’s done for you tonight, you couldn’t just ignore how hard this encounter made him. His dick throbbed against the cloth holding it back, simply begging for him to do something to relieve it.

“Daddy, lemme help, wanna help it..” You attempted to slip off his lap to kneel between his legs, fully prepared to help him. But he tightens his hold on your body, preventing you from moving much.

“No darling, y’can help me from here.” Baizhu reassured, moving the fabric that concealed his cock out the way. It bounced back against his abdomen, splashing a little precum over his stomach. Your eyes widened, you’ve seen dicks before, (in sex-ed class), but nothing like this. His dick was much bigger than anything you ’ve seen, and certainly bigger than you think you can take. Noticing your unease, Baizhu gently took your wrist and brought your hand to touch it.

“Lemme do it with you, darling... help me feel good too, yeah?” With one arm still holding you tightly, Baizhu’s other hand joined yours, guiding you in jerking him off. Even under two people’s grips, his dick still twitched and pulsed against your hand. Biting your lip, you lean your head down to press small kisses and kitten licks to his swollen, red tip. You looked up at him, still with his tip nestled snuggly in your mouth, eyes trying to convey what you want; for him to use your mouth like a fleshlight.

At first, poor Baizhu didn’t know what to say; he didn’t want to lose his composure and ram into you so hard that it became more uncomfortable than pleasurable, but the look in your eyes conveyed that you were actually begging him to lose it. He let out a long, shaky breath before moving the hand that had been on his cock to hold your hair out of your face. He didn’t even realise he was holding his breath...

“Tap my thigh twice if it gets too much for you, ok darling?” You nodded and began easing more of him into your mouth. He almost couldn’t think straight with just his tip in your mouth, but seeing you slightly struggle to fit him in drove his size kink mad. Baizhu’s fingers raked through your soft hair before setting at the top of your neck, taking control back from you and moving your head along his shaft.

Muffled whimpers and gags mixed with Baizhu’s groans made it easy to lose oneself in ecstasy, so you never noticed the small commotion happening on the other side of the door; never noticed the amused smile on your lover’s face upon realising the trap he and the millelith set achieved it’s intended outcome. Not that you were meant to know about any of this anyway...

“Sh-! Shit, on your knees, darling” You nodded and slid his cock out of your mouth to get into position, obediently for your husband. Baizhu rose from the sofa, guiding his dick back into your mouth as soon as you settled down. This time, he allowed himself the chance to thrust his hips into your mouth, meeting the pace you originally set. His thrusts started slow and deep, becoming more desperate as the pleasure built up.

“god.. m’gonna cum darling” Baizhu’s hold on your hair tightened, pulling at the strands that were wrapped around his slender fingers. He had to lean against the nearest cabinet since his thighs were twitching so much, his legs might’ve given out on him. You have to say, Baizhu’s groans of raw pleasure were a melody you’d never get tired of hearing. Baizhu abruptly pulled out from your mouth, gently taking your hand off from his thigh to place it on his heavy, aching cock.

“Finish it off, darling.. y’did so well, wanna cum on your pretty face..” You nodded and dragged your hand across his dick, feeling the way the large bulging vein running along the underside of his shaft throbbed with need. You leaned a little further up, enough to press your lips against the sensitive skin just underneath his tip. Baizhu’s grip on your hair tightened as his free hand grasped his cock, giving it a few languid pumps.

“Keep still, sweet girl,” He could barely get the words out before the tight coil inside his slender body snapped. Creamy white cum painted your face in spurts and globs, a testament to the adoration that Baizhu had harboured for you for so long.

[acey-wacey]

OMG congrats on the milestone!!!!!!

So excited you're back too, missed seeing you on my feed!

For the event, if it's not too much trouble, could I get

Hyacinth with Either Ace or Trey? Don't stress if you got nothing for it, and feel free to ignore if you need to!

CONGRATS AGAIN!!!!

Thank you for participating, lovely! I'm actually so thrilled to be back too! I forgot how much I loved writing and hopefully I'll be here for a little longer before my fall semester starts and I get swamped.

...

Pairing - Trey Clover x Reader

Prompt - Arranged Marriage

"Alright, Y/N, you can do this."

You whispered a pep talk to yourself as you rolled up your sleeves. You looked up at the stone wall before you and gulped at its imposing height. It was 8, maybe 10 feet, which wouldn't have been that bad if you weren't in a dress. There were many things that could go wrong. You could lose your footing and fall to injury if not your death and if you were caught trying to sneak out, you would likely be punished harshly.

"Certain doom, marriage to a stranger," you weighed the two options in your head. At least if you died, you would be free of the dreaded prince you were meant to wed. "Definitely certain doom."

It wasn't as though you had anything in particular against the Prince of Clubs. Very few of his subjects had anything bad to say about him, except that he was a notorious flirt. You didn't really remember what his name was nor had you ever seen what he looked like so he was a complete stranger.

He wasn't the exact problem, it was the principle of it all. Your parents had practically sold you to the Club Kingdom, knowing you would never find a match better than a prince. Your mother was a countess of Hearts, high enough on the hierarchy to be rich but not enough to really be important. You had no idea how she had bullied the poor Prince of Clubs into actually accepting your hand. No matter how comfortable your life was going to be in the Club Kingdom, you refused to be a bargaining chip for your parent's power and wealth.

You hiked up your skirt and set your foot on the first foothold you could find. Luckily, the stones of the wall stuck out in some places so it wasn't too difficult to gain your footing. You huffed with newfound confidence and continued up the wall, grasping at the harsh stone. You were definitely going to have blisters after this.

About halfway up, you realized you had run out of footholds. The closest one was closer to your head than your feet and you didn't know whether to risk it.

"Giving up isn't an option," you thought with determination as you braced yourself. You swung your leg up and exclaimed in joy when it caught the high brick.

It didn't take long for your excitement to wear off once you realized you were quite stuck. You groaned and tried to pull yourself up by the leg but you couldn't seem to get enough leverage.

"Son of a-!"

"Hello, my lady."

A deep voice from behind you made you freeze in your tracks.

"Are you in need of assistance?"

You huffed and tried to pull yourself up once more, your leg beginning to lose feeling as the blood rushed from it. When you failed, you slumped back to your very uncomfortable resting position.

"No, sir, thank you!" you called, praying that the person was not a guard who would take you to the prince.

"Are you sure?" the voice asked. "You appear to be in quite the pickle."

You tried to look back at the man who had walked in on your escape attempt, but you could move very far without losing your grip.

"If you're really asking, I am a bit stuck."

"I can see that." You could hear the smile in his voice.

"Well?" you called expectantly. "Are you going to offer your assistance or just stand there gawking? I wonder how you can call yourself a gentleman!"

The man laughed and you heard him step closer.

"I would never want my status as a gentleman to be in question. How many I help, my lady?"

You shifted around, suddenly aware of the fact that your dress had ridden up around your thigh where your foot hung helplessly from the stone in the wall.

"Perhaps if you gave me a boost, I could make it over the wall," you deliberated, gauging how much farther you needed to climb. "Yes, one last push should do it. Climbing down the other way should be much easier. If you grab me by the waist and lift me up, I should be able to make it."

"You must forgive me my questioning, but might I ask why you are attempting to climb the palace walls?" the man said, now directly behind you. "Perhaps I should be worried. You are not a prisoner, are you?"

"I will be if I do not make it out of here before the wedding," you called down, getting quite frustrated with this inquisitive stranger. "Will you not help me? My leg is getting quite exhausted and I would hate to fall from this height.

"Is there any particular reason you must leave before the prince's wedding? Do you hold disdain for him?"

You scoffed at that.

"Do I?! I've never met the man and yet my entire life will be lost to the most insufferable and determined flirt in all of Wonderland!"

"Is that what they say about him?" the man laughed out loud and you briefly wondered what his smile looked like.

"It matters not what they say, only what he is," you huffed, growing more irritated by the second. "My waist, if you please."

You heard a soft chuckle before you felt strong hands grasp your waist and lift you up, freeing your leg from its perch. You were so thrilled to be free you almost didn't notice you were being pulled back down.

"Hey, hey, hey!" you yelled as you were set back to your feet, not without quite a bit of kicking and squirming on your part. "I told you to lift me over!"

You whirled around and were immediately met by the brightest hazel eyes you had ever seen. You gasped at the closeness of the man, though it shouldn't have surprised you, considering he just practically picked you up.

Your mental picture of what the mysterious stranger looked like did not do him justice. He was taller than you expected, with dark green hair and a gentle smirk on his face. You were so encapsulated by your savior(?) that it took you about 10 seconds of staring to notice the club painted on his cheek. You were filled with momentary anxiety, assuming he was a courtier of Clubs. Hopefully, if he was close to the king and queen, his good nature so far was an indication that he wouldn't call the guards on you.

"You refuse to help a lady in distress, good sir?" you straightened defiantly, refusing to let your moment of weakness and the man's closeness incapacitate you. "Though you would save her from a lifetime of misery?"

"Come now, misery is a bit harsh," he smiled with insufferable knowing, like you were missing a joke. "I'm only a prince, not a dragon."

"Yes, well, you-"

You stopped short. He was... the prince? Your eyes widened and you dropped to your knees as you realized all the things you had said about him.

"Please forgive me, your highness," you stuttered, keeping your eyes glued to the dirt as your feet. The best case scenario at this point was not being executed. After all, the Queen of Hearts was so fond of her guillotine, perhaps the Queen of Clubs had her own special device for taking care of rule-breakers. "I know my impertinence cannot be forgiven, but I only ask that you punish only me and not my family. I will accept whatever punishment you deem fit."

A hand grabbed yours, lifting your gaze to the man, no, the prince, in front of you. Despite all your expectations, he was smiling.

"Apparently, being married to me is punishment enough," he laughed exasperatedly. He pulled you to your feet and bowed curtly. "Hello, Y/N. I'm Trey."

"Forgive me, your highness-"

"Trey," he said, his eyes sincere.

"Prince Trey-"

"Just Trey," he interrupted again. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, tousling it ever so slightly. "If we are to be married, we may as well be on a first name basis."

"Sorry, your- Trey." You had expected his name to feel odd in your mouth but it didn't feel that way. It suited him much more than any honorific you could think of. "So... you will not punish me?"

"If you will not rest until I do, then I sentence you to dinner," he smiled, a glimmer of mischief hidden in the gold of his eyes. You furrowed your eyebrows.

"Dinner?"

"With me," he finished, amused at your shocked expression. "You see, I would like to get to know you before I share the rest of my life with you. That is where most people start with these sorts of things."

You were stunned silent by how nonchalantly he spoke, almost as if he really were just a lowly courtier attempting to court the countess' daughter.

"I-" you could barely bring yourself to speak. Trey raised his eyebrow in amusement which only flustered you more. "I suppose."

"You suppose?"

"Dinner would be an acceptable punishment."

Trey smiled and offered his arm to you. You took it hesitantly, still stiff as he walked you back to the palace you had just been so desperate to escape.

"Do people really say I'm an insufferable and determined flirt?"