#pacte to be famous

[luuxxart]

leaks from the anime post bnha 430……. #REAL #NOTFAKE

[hunybody]

shannon and eddie diaz were literally going down hand in unlovable hand. is the thing. shannon literally hung on past the last exit and hoped it was already too late. and eddie hopes the black smoke carries him far away and he never comes back to this town again. and in this life he lies and tells everyone she was a good wife. and she dies. and he hopes they both die. and he hopes he cuts himself shaving tomorrow and he hopes it bleeds all day long. and she hoped that if she found the strength to walk out he would stay the hell out of her way. they were both drowning with no sight of land. she was going down with him. hand in unlovable hand

[agir1ukn0w]

put👏milo👏manheim👏in👏better👏shit👏

[stxrks]

ok one thing before i go to sleep fr rn — if that was all the jace/cregan content we’re getting ….. genuinely no words. what a fcking letdown. lucemond are laughing rn bc their number one slash ship spot is under zero threat from that underwhelming ass five minutes. hbo count your days!

[arolesbianism]

Me and the bestie about to go spend our collective five dollars on the shittiest soda you’ve ever lauded your eyes upon (we’re about to be evicted for the 5th time this month)

[horangslay]

I love Jay as much as the next guy, and I want him to succeed for sure, but if he ends up in the new mnet shows group & is snatched away from One Pact immediately after debut I will be screaming & crying forever

[othercrossee]

Name for my fashion girlboss, Aditya

[hamilando]

ੈ✩‧ I don’t like his intentions (smau) ੈ✩‧

pairing : charles leclerc x hamilton! fem reader

summary : the hamilton sibling starting soemthing with her brother’s future teammate

a/n : This is series ! anyways enjoy ! also feel free to drop in a request or a question ! TAGLIST IS OPEN !!

·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ

liked by lewishamilton, charlesleclerc, liliyhye and 118,327 others

otherhamilton What a end to 2024!!🎆

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user 1 SHE IS MANIFESTING FERRARI PODIUM!!

user 2 Lewis to Ferrari is my only hope in f1

user 3 even she is excited for Lewis Ferrari era!

↳ liked by otherhamilton

lewishamilton can’t wait for 2025!

↳ liked by otherhamilton

charlesleclerc 🤍🪽 ↳ liked by otherhamilton

user 4 Y/N shall provide lewis x charles crumb !

lilihye the girl is shining! ↳ liked by otherhamilton

user 5 isn’t lewis black -

user 6 tf bro- user 5 just curious man 🙌🏻 user 6 then you should know that anything is possible in biology , even giving birth to an idiot like you !

user 7 BAHAHAH- @user6 THAT WAS EPIC !

user 6 no one says anything to @otherhamilton

liked by lewishamilton, charlesleclerc, georgerussell and 124,327 others

otherhamilton just some British winter 🇬🇧

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lewishamilton I told you not to post that image

otherhamilton aww big brother 🩵

user 1 ROSCOEEE

user 2 WOOF WOOF

user 3 WOOF WOOF

user 4 are we barking for roscoe or lewis-

user 5 we only bark for y/n!

lilyhye So pretty !!🤩

 ↳ liked by otherhamilton 

francisca.cgnomes we need to catch up babes! 🙌🏻

otherhamilton date and time babes 👀

user 6 it’s like lewis has a famous sister

user 7 Marry me 💍

charlesleclerc pretty 🩵

↳ liked by otherhamilton

liked by lewishamilton, charlesleclerc, and 134,854 others

otherhamilton thank you so much for inviting me @ balenciaga !

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user 1 MY HEART DIED -

user 2 THE ULTIMATE GENES OF HAMILTON PARENTS -

kellypiquet it was great spending time with you !

otherhamilton it was lovely chatting the night away !

kellypiquet thank you for letting me know who broke my heels 💪🏻

maxverstappen1 I thought we had a pact @otherhamilton

otherhamilton hoes before bros 💪🏻🫶🏻

charlesleclerc 🔥❤️

user 4 CHARLES !?

user 5 SIR LECLERC !?

user 6 CHARLES 👀👀

user 7 🫴 lord perceval

user 8 damn Ferrai smitten by mercedes

f1wags do we smell something here ?

Part 2 Part 3

[zephyrchama]

Leviathan right after his pact - who's still a little sore to admit you're a TSL fan, too - making the passwords to his room more and more complex.

They go from a single line from the books to a whole paragraph. Then longer, and longer, until you're outside his room for fifteen minutes straight reenacting a whole scene together through the doorway. You have to drag props down the hallway, stand on a chair, and don a bedsheet cloak outside of Levi's room if you want any hope of entering.

Leviathan finally stops when it starts attracting a crowd. He excitedly opens the door to let you in after one particularly intense reenactment of a famous battle scene, but is stunned at what he sees. Beel, naturally, sat down to watch on his way back from the kitchen with an armful of snacks. Asmo had his phone out recording, telling his fans how fun this was and how cool you looked. Satan was behind him, saying you were true to the spirit of the tale but your acting would benefit from a higher production cost. Levi yells at them all to get lost while ushering you inside.

[koolades-world]

Powerful men

oh my god the fact that any of the brothers and datables could ruin the lives of anyone who wrongs you is so hot to me

the idea of the pure power and influence they hold used just used for little old me instead of something actually productive makes me weak in the knees

if you go down the list, each of them is terrifying in their own way and you have them wrapped around your finger

Lucifer is Diavolo’s right hand man and single handed manages so many things, including six of his brothers that are all very power demons

Mammon has influence over everything money

Levi is Hell’s Admiral

Satan was literally birthed from Lucifer’s rage and has connections in every part of the Devildom

Asmo is not only famous as the avatar of lust, but also online meaning he has a horde of crazy dedicated fans and man’s greater weakness at his disposal

Beel is a beefcake of a man and will eat anything without flinching, including almost you

Belphie rules the dreamworld and arguably had the least amount of restraint among his brothers

Diavolo is literally the next in like to be king and has an inconceivable amount of grim at the tips of his fingers

Barbatos can alter time, space, and any destiny at will with something as simple as a thought and hand movement

Solomon has 46(? don’t remember exactly how many) demons in a pact with him including Barbatos and Asmo and is a very powerful sorcerer

Simeon has the influence of an angel and the power of all that is heavenly on his side, as well as Lucifer

all it takes is for one of them to find out, then the fate of whoever wronged you has been sealed. I like to think it’s a collaborative effort

the demon that made fun of you in RAD mysteriously vanished, that thorn in your side at your part time job is suddenly much nicer, and that one rude hairstylist at your favorite salon is fired for some reason

it’s so insane how all of them are likely willing to go that far for a human that was chose at random for an exchange program that wasn’t meant to last more than a year

the writing potential is endless

[avtrbee]

in the beginning

✢summary: in a final attempt to salvage the rift between your families, you suggest a marriage pact between you and and alicent’s second son

✢tags: aemond x targaryen!reader, reader is rhaenyra and laenor second born child

✢tw: kinda possessive (?) aemond, i specifically mention that reader has one purple eye and the other brown and white hair- other than that its all ambiguous, targcest 😭

✢a/n: gods this man has a chokehold on me fr, and the gif isnt mine

You have never seen your mother so angry. After the disastrous family dinner, Rhaenyra Targaryen all but shoved her children inside her solar. The Princess of Dragonstone walks around in circles with fire in her footsteps and a finger in her mouth to soothe her anxiety, no doubt recalling the events a few moments prior.

Daemon sat comfortably on the seat behind your mother, seemingly amused by the situation. His violet eyes seem to glow in delight as he watches his wife scold her children. You had looked at him for help, but he only looked back as if saying, you’ve woken the dragon.

“I had thought you better than this!” She stops her strides and snaps her neck to the children huddled together on an ottoman. You, Luke, and Jace sit as close as you can together- a pathetic attempt to comfort each other from your mother's wrath. It is what you’ve always done, it’s what Rhaenyra had always taught you to do; protect each other.

Luke was the first to speak. “But he called us St-“

“Those whispers had been used against you since the moment you were born. I was wrong to hope you’d get used to it,” came your mother’s cold reply. An echo of the dinner fills the room. You all seemingly recall Aemond’s words, and all the whispers said before his- Strong bastards.

You feel Luke shrink back to his seat.

From the floor, you dared to gaze up at your mother. It was a mistake. As soon as you looked up, her violet eyes caught yours and the fire in her burned greatly.

“You were always the best of them,” Rhaenyra regards you with a furious gaze and a disappointed tone. “I had expected better from you. But for you to strike Alicent’s eldest son-"

“He called them bastards!” You argue, anger seeping through your pores and out to the air of your mothers chamber. “Aegon deserved it.”

“Them,” Rhaenyra repeats. “Them, not you. I had thought you knew better than to meddle in business you are not part of, Y/N.”

In truth, Rhaenyra is relieved that out of all her children with Laenor you are the one no one would dare question your legitimacy. Rhaenrya’s only daughter did not inherit the dark Baratheon hair of their grandmother (or the hair of a Strong, as the traitorous whispers insist), but the Valyrian features House Targaryen and House Velaryon are so famous for- silver as hair and an amethyst for an eye. It was a pity you are her second born and not her first.

Like Luke, you feel yourself curl back in your seat. “I’m sorry, mother.”

“Do you know what you have done?” Rhaenyra’s voice calls out as you cowardly stare at the floor, refusing to meet her gaze. You feel Luke’s hand sneak to hold yours in an attempt to comfort you. “In any other fight, I would have defended you tooth and nail, but this is a fight that you had started.”

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, unable to say anything else. In truth, it all began with Aemond, the roasted pig, and Luke’s unstifled giggles. Aemond got angry, but words were only words. You had punched Aegon first, and it became the catalyst of the fragile truce. You were not blind nor stupid, you have felt the tension between your mother and the Queen Regent. It had been made worse with Aemond’s bullying and the loss of his eye. And now you.

You knew how important the dinner was until you ruined it. Foolish, foolish, girl.

If there were to be a war in House Targaryen, history would blame Princess Y/N Velaryon and her temper. The fall of Valyria’s last surviving houses was caused by your hands, and a glance at Rhaenyra’s pregnant belly makes the guilt inside you grow. You have done nothing but cause her stress, especially when she is pregnant with your youngest sibling.

“Y/N is your grandmother reborn,” Viserys whispered as he first held you, back when you were still a babe. Rhaenyra watched as her father caressed her daughter’s cheek in wonder at her mismatched eyes.

Perhaps Alyssa Targaryen is why Viserys had favored Y/N out of all his grandchildren, and perhaps she is the reason why Daemon defends her.

“She was protecting her brothers,” came his voice behind Rhaenyra. Or perhaps he is hungry for another war.

“But it’s true,” argued Jace. “It is no use denying it when it is so obvious.” Rhaenyra regards her son with pity in her eyes, the fire of her anger fading regret. “It doesn’t matter anyway, for the fathers that supposedly sired us are both dead.”

“No,” argued Rhaenyra, finally striding over to all three of her oldest children. Her hands extend to touch you and Jace’s cheeks as Luke sandwiches between you. The Princess of Dragonstone kneels in front of her children and regards them slowly. “Your claim to the throne is not given by any man. You have a claim to the throne because I am its heir. ”

You and your siblings nod in unison.

Jace, your oldest brother, attempts to set an example. “We shall apologize to the Queen and her children for the trouble we’ve caused,” he proposes. You wonder what the realm will be like when he becomes King. “Luke will apologize to Aemond first-” Jace emphasizes his last words, fully expecting Luke’s reaction. “And Y/N shall apologize to Aegon.”

Rhaenyra regards Jace with a proud look. “What a great King you will be, sweet boy. But Alicent won’t accept this. Not after Aemond’s eye.” Beside you, Luke cringes no doubt recalling the past. “Not after one of her sons is harmed again,” Rhaenyra continues and it is your turn to try not to cower at your mothers words.

Rhaenyra stares at her eldest children, waiting for the ferocious anger within to lull and fade to a steady fire. Finally, she takes pity on the three young princes and princess whose gaze remains firmly on their laps.

“Look at me,” she commanded and all of you obey instantly. This action seems to let a small smile loose on her face as your three heads jut up to her command reminds her of a small litter of puppies eager for their mother. But you are not pups.

“My three-headed dragon,” she calls to you all affectionately, before kissing your foreheads one at a time. Is there anything she won’t do for you? “I will handle this. Go to your rooms. We depart for Dragonstone in a day’s turn.”

Luce and Jace stand from your shared seats immediately, eager to leave while Rhaenyra grants them her good spirits. But not you. You remain in your thoughts, the impending dread of the destruction of your House brought by your own foolishness is heavy in your head. You feel even worse as you have left your mother to clean up your messes once again.

“Sweetling?” Rhaenyra calls and you look up to her. She smiles as you gently, with all the love splattered in her face as she jerks her head to the doors of her chamber. It was as if she was never angry in the first place. “You may go.”

“Wed me to Aemond.” Your demand comes fast but quiet, tumbling out of your mouth before you had even thought of what you have said. You were grasping straws, desperate to mend your House in the only way you knew how.

From his seat, Daemon had his arms resting on his knees as his fists joined to cover his mouth in contemplation. He has an eyebrow raised in surprise, but his eyes were elsewhere possibly considering the match. You appeal to him first.

“It is a peaceful option, to end the rift between the two families in our House,” you argue. “And I am of age, and so is he.”

“It is a good match,” Daemon concedes, looking up at Rhaenyra. You follow his eyes and you meet your mother gazing at you with pity or sadness in her eyes- you could not tell.

“Do you know what that means, sweetling?” She asks, her hand coming to hold your nape. “You’d have to stay here, in Kings Landing. You’d have to leave Dragonstone. You’d have to leave me.”

“Aemond and I were friends once,” you reply, recalling fond memories you had in this Keep with your cousins. Aemond had always been a kind, soft-spoken boy and though he definitely changed as the years passed by, you were certain he was still the child you befriended deep inside.

Still, you cannot ignore the looks he had given you at the dinner. You had been seated between Aegon and Luke, far from the end of the table where Aemond was but you felt his stare all night as you ate your meal. The few times you dared to look at him, he had already been looking back with a predatory stare.

There is a hunger in his gaze, like a hunter seizing his prey for capture. You hated how he made you feel so small, for you are every bit of a dragon as he is, if not more.

“He will be kind,” you insist, not believing it yourself. “And I…” You struggle to find the right words. “I am of excellent Valyrian heritage. The Queen and Aemond won’t see this offer as an insult.”

“This mess was created by the Queen and I. And now our children are paying for it,” Rhaenyra kisses your forehead again- longer this time, like she wanted to pour out all of the love she had for her only daughter out through the kiss. “I don’t deserve you. I shall talk to Alicent once the sun rises.” Her hands cradle your face, her thumb stroking your face. “Avy jorrāelan.”

I love you.

“Avy jorrāelan,” you reply.

-

As if tradition, ladies and lords, palace maids, stable boys and aspiring knights have all gathered within the main courtyard every morning in hopes to catch Ser Criston Cole and Aemond Targaryen spar on dirt and rubble. Today, even more people are gathered as the two men have been sparing with live steel. You watch with them today, not being able to catch any proper sleep last night.

The clink-clang sounds of steel swords are heard across the yard, creating a rhythm for the hymn of violence Ser Criston and Aemond are so fond of. You sense the fight coming to its end as Aemond’s shield is smashed by Ser Criston’s morning star. At the loss of his defense, Aemond charges with his sword, clashing and slashing while Ser Criston narrowly dodges. Aemond is slower today, you notice and you are soon proven right when Ser Criston manages to put his palm on Aemond’s chest. With a thud, Ser Criston pushed Aemond to the ground, dangling his morning star in front of the prince’s face. Aemond watches the spiked ball swing once, twice, before declaring his defeat.

“I yield.”

Despite the prince’s defeat, his audience shower him with scattered applause. With the fight coming to an end, so did its audience with servants scurrying back to their duties and ladies heading back to the keep. Some fawning ladies and knights chose to stay to discuss their admiration among themselves.

“Do not be discouraged, my prince,” called Ser Criston as he held out a hand to the fallen prince.

Aemond took it begrudgingly. “I am not discouraged.”

“But you are distracted.” Ser Criston says, matter-of-factly with a raised eyebrow.

From where you stand, you see Aemond clench his jaw in annoyance. He averts his face from Ser Criston’s judging glance to your direction. You see the exact moment his eye light up in fascination and curiosity to your presence.

“Niece,” Aemond greets, dusting off the dirt from his breeches. He looks at you similar to how he stared at you all night at dinner. “Have you come to watch how true swordsmen fight?”

You force yourself to smile, ignoring the obvious slight to your brothers’ inferior skills. “My prince,” you greet, looking at his form. Aemond had become tall- unimaginably taller than he ever was as a child. He carries himself confidently, but your eyes are quick. You stare at his upper arm, and the growing dark stain on his shirt. “Come, my prince, you are wounded. Let me treat you.”

Aemond humors you a dry smile. “You have quick eyes, my princess.”

You watch as his tall figure walks towards you, his long legs making the distance between you seem shorter. You turn and walk with Aemond on your heels following your every step. You have no doubt that his mouth is curled in that sly smirk, wondering what business did the daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen have to do with him.

You could feel his curiosity grow as you led him to your solar. He sits comfortably on a chair while you stand, receiving the kit that your servant handed you. You quietly thank her and ask her to shut the door.

“I must say,” Aemond starts, looking around your solar in fascination. He relaxes on your chair like it is his solar he is in, not yours. “I am in confusion as to what I may have done to earn Princess Y/N Velaryon’s special attention.”

You ignore him, heading straight for the bowl of warm water placed beside him before dipping a rag in it. “You must remove your shirt for me to clean the wound,” you say.

Aemond holds your gaze for a moment before following your orders immediately. He shrugs off his tunic without looking away. With his shirt gone, you are greeted by the sight of his pale chest. You immediately take note of his broad shoulders, his arms, and the thin layer of sweat from his previous fight. Aemond is lean, but his physique was hardened by muscles gained from his mastery of the sword. You avert your eyes and try to not let it bother you.

It does, and he notices and responds with a smug smirk.

His arm, finally clear of any clothes, you dab your rag around the wound gently. “I have noticed that there has been a division between your family and mine,” you begin slowly, eyes darting to his face to gauge his reaction. “A division that you have suffered the consequences of the most.”

Aemond gives nothing away from his face but a calm and cool look. If he is in pain from the hot water and his wound, you cannot even tell. You wonder if he is stone cold silent from all the painful memories his brother and your brothers- and by extension you had caused.

No, you remind yourself. Aemond is not with his sister then one would have better chances finding him in your company than his brothers. However, you have always been torn apart by the family, always stuck in the middle as they fight in which you respond by turning a blind eye. You are complicit in his terrible childhood and the loss of his eye.

Still, you have always been polite and kind to Aemond. A bare minimum that he had cherished greatly after the lack of affection found in his family, to the point where your mother suspected Aemond harboring a childhood crush on you after he shyly gave you a red rose from the gardens before promptly running away.

Of course, every semblance of his affection died with the loss of his eye.

“You are angry, I understand that,” you continue, dabbing his wound gently still. “But I was wondering if you would find it within yourself to look past-”

“Look past?” His voice is sharp, but his face remains still. His eye, however, gives his anger away- a blazing violet that echoes the same dragon-like anger your mother had last night. “You ask me to forget that your brother stole my eye out of the goodness of my heart?”

“No,” you reply immediately. “You were both innocent children, but Lucerys should not have come out of that without consequences.”

Aemond tilts his head and leans closer to you. His violet eye searches your face challengingly. “And what do you offer?”

“Me.” Your voice rings out in your chamber as Aemond fails to reply with a sly retort. For the first time, a soft look of disbelief crosses his face. You reach to grasp his hand with your free palm, your mouth ready to list your reasons but before you could even touch him, Aemond had already grabbed your palm and pulled you to him.

“You?” He asked, a darkness filling his eyes. You do not know if he’s giddy or if he is mocking you. His grip on your hands are tight and you feel a tremble wash over you. “If you are to be my wife, you would be mine,” he reminds you.

Aemond’s tone is gentle but his intentions are anything but. You cannot help but swallow in nervousness, and Aemond’s eye follows your throat as the lump travels down. There is a danger lurking underneath your uncle, and he looks at you like he has won a game you did not even know you were playing.

“Yes, I would.” You agree. You try to shift your head to escape his gaze, but his hands capture your cheeks before you could even move. His fingers squish your face gently but with an unheard threat of harm if you dare to move again.

“Mine,” he whispers in awe at you, like he could not believe the possibility. “And what do your brothers think of that?”

“They-” you struggle to speak as his fingers squeeze your face. “They do not know.”

This news brings Aemond a small smile. This is the first time you have ever seen Aemond close to joy after the loss of his eye. “I could do anything to you if you were my wife. You would share my chambers, and my bed. You will bear my children. They surely would not like that, would they?” Aemond looks across the room as if fantasizing the displeasure on your brothers’ face or you growing his seed inside you- you do not know.

You feel his hands crawl to your face, cradling it almost lovingly. “And if I use you for my revenge?” Aemond whispers. “Would you offer me an eye for your brother’s debt, my lady?”

He does not wait for an answer when he continues. “Have you ever seen me without my eyepatch, my lady?”

It takes you a second to recover. You blink at him, wondering if you heard him right. You wring your hands nervously, unsure to where Aemond was getting at. “I can’t say I have, my prince.”

In an instant, his hand leaves your face and snatches his eyepatch off like it was poison before throwing the piece of leather on the ground in disgust. “And now?”

Aemond abruptly stands from his chair, and you are left to scramble away. It was like he was challenging you with the sight of his eyes. You take a step back as Aemond steps forward, leaning down on you to make sure you have a good look at the long jagged line that runs across his left side, and the sapphire that replaced his eye.

You struggle to keep your eyes on Aemond’s bare face as his sudden closeness makes you realize that he still is shirtless. If you tilt your head down, you would be met by his pale chest and if he moves any closer your nose would soon touch it.

“Would you still offer yourself to me, little lady?” Aemond asks. “Even with my sapphire eye?”

A sudden boldness overcomes you. “Are you trying to scare me, my prince?” You tiptoed to his height, leaning in as close as you dared, until your nose had brushed his. You look at him unfalteringly meeting the gaze of his eye and jewel.

“If I am to be your wife, my Valyrian eye is yours by right,” you jerk your head to the right, gesturing to your purple eye. Aemond looks unfazed at your bold declaration, choosing to remain still and stare at you but you see him steal a glance at the right side of your face.

Finally, you take a step back, removing yourself from his personal space and head to the kit your made gave you to get a slave. You turn to face Aemond again, only to find him seated back in the chair.

“My mother is with yours now,” you tell him, scooping a generous amount of salve on your fingers before spreading it across his wound. “No doubt trying to convince her of the possibility of our union. I just wanted to let you hear it from my lips first.”

As if on cue a knock echoes throughout your solar before a maid from Queen Alicent’s staff pops her head in your rooms. She curtsies before she says, “My lady, my prince, the Queen and the Princess have summoned you to the Queen’s solar.”

Before you could respond, Aemond was already walking out the door, eyepatch already back on his head. His arms move to wear his tunic back on. “Let’s go.”

This time, it is Aemond who leads the way as you follow.

-

“Prince Aemond and Princess Y/N, your Grace,” announced the maid as you and Aemond entered.

This is not the first time you have entered Alicent’s solar. The space is often filled with her attendants, as Helaena and her children and Aemond are often inside. Today it is only the Queen Alicent and your mother occupying the solar.

They sit in front of the fireplace to warm them in this cool morning, and a jug of wine on the side.

The Queen and the princess sport wide smiles and a faint blush on their cheeks from drinking.

The ambiance of the room is joyous. Rhaenyra’s head is thrown back from laughter as Alicent’s head is bowed down trying to stifle her giggles. You have never seen your mother look so carefree before, not with your father, nor with Daemon. Thus it baffles you further to see the Queen and the Princess of Dragonstone so comfortable with each other.

Almost hidden behind their thick gowns, you spot their hands interlocked. You turn to the side to meet Aemond’s equally curious stare.

“Oh!” Alicent spots you first. “There you are.”

Rhaenyra turns in your direction at Alicent’s voice. Your mother stands and walks to you, wrapping her hand on the side of your head as she kisses your temple. “Sweet girl,” she coos at you quietly.

“Viserys drones on and on about how she mirrors Alyssa, but she is Laenor through and through,” comments Alicent as her eyes roam your figure up and down. Beside her, Aemond has taken your mother’s seat beside the Queen.

Rhaenyra chuckles warmly. “If you ask me, I find that she is an echo of you, your Grace. Kind, dutiful, beautiful…” She trails off and shakes her head before gesturing to Aemond. “Your son echoes you the most though.”

Alicent looks at Aemond with a fond smile. It is obvious whose child the Queen favors. Out of all the Queen’s children, none have grown to look like her, except perhaps Aemond. He seems like an eerie mirror of his mother’s father with Valyrian coloring, but his eyes and smile are all Alicent’s. “Ah, yes,” she muses. “But his temperament mirrors you, Rhaenyra.”

A foreign look of regret slips on your mother's face like a mask. “Gods help this realm if I were born a man,” your mother whispers. “The things I would have done.”

Alicent and Rhaenyra share a sad knowing look. There is a longing in your mother’s words a deep, old, painful tone. The Queen looks at your mother almost regrettably but filled with affection all the same. The moment feels intimate to both of them, perhaps recalling their childhood when they held each other close to their hearts.

Never have you seen your mother look so vulnerable to anyone, much more in front of the Queen she resents. A quick glance at Aemond shows that this side of Alicent is new to him too.

The moment is quickly broken by Alicent. She clasps her hands together on her lap. “I assume that both of you know the matter of why I have summoned you here?”

You nod at your Queen while Aemond confirms dutifully, “Yes, mother.”

Alicent turns in her seat to regard her son. “I admit I have already consented to the match, but it is your opinion that I value the most. What say you, Aemond?”

Aemond takes a deep breath, his single eye sliding over to look at your mother behind you and finally at you. You know his act of pondering is false. You knew his answer as soon as you felt his gaze at the dinner table, and confirmed it at the glint of his eye when you had offered yourself. You wonder if he is repeating your offer in his head, the promise of your whole being, and your eye if he wishes it.

“I shall do my duty,” came Aemond’s response with a passive face.

Alicent smiles at her son proudly. “Congratulations, Aemond. You will be a fine husband, I know it.” She turns her head to you, “And to you, Y/N. This union is welcome and the realm shall rejoice when it is announced.”

Aemond is before you in an instant, holding out his hand for yours in which you had no choice but to give it. To your surprise, your betrothed merely raises it to his lips for a gentle kiss. “My lady.”

The touch of his lips on your hand jolts you awake and makes your heart skip a beat- from fear or from romance you do not know. A nervous smile spreads itself on your face nonetheless. “My prince.”

“Come,” your mother says, heading for the door. “We must tell Daemon and your brothers of this news.”

The mention of your brothers makes Aemond look more sly as he stares at you to leave. You curtsy to the Queen and now to your betrothed before following Rhaenyra.

“Rhaenyra,” Alicent’s voice rings out.

You see your mother hitch a breath before turning swiftly. “Yes, my Queen?”

“Stay,” Alicent asks, and suddenly it was like the two of them were alone in the room once more. Both Alicent and Rhaenyra were dead to the world when they looked at each other so fondly. There is heavy tension in the air, but different from the fraying truce of last night’s dinner. No one is on guard or cautious. It strangely feels like home. It is healing. “Even for a couple of weeks. The matter is resolved, there is no reason for you to return to Dragonstone so promptly.”

A genuine smile spread on Rhaenyra’s face and she had never looked so happy. “I’d like that.”

A smile tries to spread on Alicent’s face, but she turns around before it grows fully. “You are dismissed.”

-

alicent and rhaenyra: hahaha our children remind us of each other what if they get married

i firmly believe that is rhaenyra was born a boy or if westeros is lgbt friendly, she would have chosen alicent as her wife in a heartbeat.

did you enjoy this fic? check out my masterlist and part two

[reasonsforhope]

"At nearly 150 acres, the Jardim Gramacho landfill in Rio de Janeiro was one of the largest and most infamous in all of Latin America. Now it’s a mangrove forest teeming with life.

Decommissioned 11 years ago, between 1970 and 2012 the dump, bordering Rio’s famous Guanabara Bay, received 80 million metric tonnes of trash from the area’s Gramacho neighborhood.

Now, a public-private partnership led by the Rio Municipal Cleaning Company has returned the area to nature, specifically mangroves, one of the most valuable of all ecosystems.

Planting 24 acres of mangroves at a time, today the forest stretches out more than 120 acres and is the largest mangrove area of the bay.

“Before, we polluted the bay and the rivers. Now, it’s the bay and the rivers that pollute us,” a lead official on the project told Africa News. “Today, the mangrove has completely recovered.”

Other organizations have taken action to restore mangroves along the bay as well. The non-profit Ocean Pact funded the Green Guanabara Bay Project which successfully restored 12.5 hectares or around 25 acres of mangroves.

According to some estimates, 1 acre of mangrove forests can store more carbon in roots and soil than 4 acres of even the most biodiverse rainforest, making them paramount to any world climate mitigation strategy.

Furthermore, their impressive lattice work of roots and insane durability means that storm surges impacting mangroves lose about 66% of their kinetic energy without even destroying the trees.

Lastly, coastal fishing communities, in [four] words, cannot exist without mangroves. They act as nurseries and perfect habitat for all kinds of fish and crustaceans that small-scale fishermen rely on for their daily bread."

-via Good News Network, 7/31/23

-video via Africanews, July 26, 2023

[harryslittlefreakk]

the pact part 2

summary: a look into your’s and harry’s life since the night of gemma’s wedding. the proposal, your wedding and all that yummy stuff 🤭

warnings: fluffy fluffy fluff, smut, breeding kink, slight soft dom!rry if you squint

wordcount: 4.7k

a/n: thank you SO much for all the love on the previous part. i honestly love this story and these two 😭 i don’t know how much I like this part, it feels too rushed but my brain is fried from writing. so it might be pure rubbish lol

part one

my masterlist can be found here . happy reading!

“Harry, get off!” you shrieked. “Can’t, m’afraid. Just want to love on you forever.”

“You can love on me forever, but right now we need to go.”

Harry had been totally insatiable since the night of Gemma’s wedding. He needed to have his hands on you at every possible second, staying close to your side wherever you went. Your parents joked that you were more like newlyweds than Gemma and Michal, basking in the glow of your newfound love. “D’you remember when I proposed to you?” Harry asked you, smiling at the memory. “Yes Harry, of course I do.”

It was the morning after his 30th birthday, and you were still slumped in his bed nursing a hangover. You’d learned quickly that Harry never does parties by halves, clearly inheriting the fun-loving spirit of his mother. Every surface of his house had been littered in booze and nibbles, every corner teeming with more famous people than you’d ever seen. Harry had introduced you to everyone he spoke to, his affection and love for you radiating off of his body. Anyone would have thought that you’d been together for years, not a measly 8 months. But you’d barely spent a second away from each other in all that time, never wanting to take your eyes off each other in case you lost one another again.

Harry had woken up before you that morning, insisting he needed to go for a run to knock the hangover out of his system. You usually went with him, not to run, but to sit on a bench close by with a coffee and book in hand, ready to blow kisses to him every time he jogged past you. You’d learn later that his run that morning had less to do with his hangover and more to do with the ring he had hidden in his nightstand.

He’d handed you a coffee when he came home, a vanilla latte in your favourite navy blue teacup. It was little things like this that made you fall in love with him. Every morning he’d make your favourite coffee, bringing it to you in bed before climbing back in with you. Even on the nights you were both too tired to wash up, he always made sure your mug was clean before going to sleep that night.

You’d sat up to take the coffee, pressing a gentle kiss to Harry’s mouth, when something oddly familiar caught your eye. A pristine paper napkin, blue felt tip in a child’s handwriting scribbled across it. Your fingertip traced across the writing delicately, eyes resting on the tiny initials dotted underneath. “Harry,” you whispered. His head was in line with yours now, eyes glistening with adoration as he looked over you. “I don’t want to spend another day without you,” he told you, voice strangled by the heart hammering in his throat. He was on one knee, a black ring box cradled in his hands. You set the coffee down with a shaky hand, brown eyes brimming with tears as you took in the sight before you. “My darling Boo, will you marry me?”

“Yes, H. Yes,” you nodded through tears, pulling his face towards you without even glancing at the ring. The kiss was deep and sloppy, so many emotions coursing through your veins. “Love you s’much,” he spoke into your mouth, taking your hand from his face as he pulled away from you. Harry held your finger delicately, his strong hands shaking slightly as he slipped the ring on. It was beautiful. A dainty white-gold band, delicately inscribed with H.E.S in the same child-like handwriting from the napkin. A glistening diamond sat in the centre, clusters of smaller diamonds hugging each side. It was exactly like the dream engagement ring you’d described to him months ago, only now it was sitting on your ring finger, a delicate symbol of the love you shared.

“Knew I was going to marry you from the second I kissed you,” Harry rasped, pulling you out of your daydream. “Felt so natural to me, felt like I’d known your body before.”

“Imagine where we’d be if you hadn’t ditched me for a decade,” you laughed. “A house, babies, a little dog. Could’ve had all that by now,” you told him, wriggling out of his grip and running for the door. “Can have all of that now, little Boo,” he replied, rolling over to watch you as you leaned in the doorway. “Not if I murder you for making us late.”

—

Your parents and Anne had decided to spend the day with you, your last day all together before and Harry spent the remainder of the summer in Italy. Your dad was already on the grill, ranting and raving about how his one at home was much better and he wouldn’t be blamed for any of the food being overcooked.

You’d chosen the same church as Gemma for your wedding, though it looked so different now with colourful ribbons and flowers covering every corner. There was a huge wildflower archway over the old doors, pinks, purples and bright blues dotted through. Bouquets were attached to the end of every pew, stray petals guiding you to where you’d wed Harry tomorrow. Though it was miles from home, you’d told Harry you wanted all your hypothetical children to be christened here, wanted to bring them here on holidays and for special occasions. The ancient bricks held the beginnings of your love, the crumbling walls housed your fondest memories. Your little cul-de-sac in Holmes Chapel was really the beginning of your life with Harry, but your love and friendship had been reborn here. Squinting up at the church now from your rented cottage on the seafront, you couldn’t imagine getting married anywhere more perfect.

Anne came up behind you as you watched the breeze roll over the church, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Not getting cold feet are you?” she asked. “The opposite,” you told her, giddy with excitement. You rested your head against her shoulder, sighing happily. “Thank you, Anne,” you said. “For what, darling?”

“For Harry, for everything. He has so much of you, all your best bits. You turned him into something really perfect,” you told her. She laughed away the tears brimming in her eyes, jabbing at your side playfully. “Save it for tomorrow, I vowed not to cry until my boy is a husband.”

Your perfect day rolled into a perfect evening, huddled up under blankets with your family after a day of chasing Harry through the waves and building sandcastles. “I can’t believe this time tomorrow we’ll be real family,” your mum gushed. “You’ve been like a sister to me all these years Anne, your children an extension of mine.” Your dad laughed, rolling his eyes as the two women gripped onto each other’s touch. He lifted his beer in the air, cheeks stained pink after a day in front of the grill. “To family,” he said, eyes wandering around the group in front of him. “To family,” you all chorused in response, glasses and beer bottles clinking together.

It wasn’t long before everyone retired to bed, needing to get a full night’s sleep before the long day ahead. You and Harry lingered behind, not ready to split off into your separate rooms. “Come with me,” he whispered, tugging on your wrists as he turned on his heel. You giggled, following him blindly. He led you back onto the beach, fingers tangled up in yours as you trudged through the sand, his hands guiding you around a corner of the cliff face. He pressed you up against the smooth rock when you were out of the cottage’s view, hands spread either side of your head. His mouth kissed down your jawline, nose nudging upwards to get better access to your neck. “What are you doing?” you laughed, back arching as he pressed open mouthed kisses to your throat. “Missed you so much today,” he murmured, voice vibrating against your skin.

“Yeah, baby? Even though you’ve been with me all day?” you smirked, hand slipping up the back of his t shirt to feel the warm skin underneath. “Missed kissing on you, touching this perfect body.” Just the rasp of Harry’s voice was enough to turn you to putty in his hands, never mind what his mouth was doing to you.

“Harry,” you whimpered. “Can’t do this here.” You tried to push him away with a limp hand, not truly wanting or needing him to stop. “Can’t do this?” he challenged, untying the straps of your bikini top. “Or this?” he continued, pulling it off your body and slipping it into the pocket of his shorts. He rolled your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, eliciting a whine from deep within you. He pulled your shorts and bikini bottoms down to your ankles, his cock springing free from his shorts as he tugged them just low enough to free himself.

He was so hard already, a result of watching you prance around in a tiny bikini all day, you were sure of it. The tiniest sight of your bare skin riled him up to no end, always trying to pull your top up or trousers down to get his fix. His fingers always found their way under your shirt as you slept, ankles always rubbing against your bare calves. He was always so needy for you, his touch and lingering eyes making you feel like the prettiest girl in the world. “Y’ready for me?” Harry asked you, reaching down to tap two fingers against your entrance. It was far from romantic, a lust-driven quickie on the beach the night before your wedding, but it was so you and Harry.

He ran his tip through your folds, collecting your juices before wrapping a hand around the back of your knee to open you up more for him. “So wet,” he groaned as you wrapped your calf around his hip. “For you, baby, all for you,” you whined as he pushed into you, the familiar burn tearing through your core. Every time he entered you felt like the first time all over again, your walls never fully expecting the size of his cock. Harry tangled his hand in your hair as he fucked into you, hips snapping hard against yours from the second he was inside you. His eyes were darkened over, scanning over your face as you moaned. “Let me see your eyes,” he panted, free hand gently grabbing at your cheeks and pulling your your head to face him. You gulped, his soft command leaving a knot in your core.

“Good girl, so good for me,” he drawled. “Want you to watch me while I fuck your sweet cunt.” His words were dirty, echoing through your mind over the sloppy sounds of your juices mixing. His hand slithered down your front, pausing to grab at your breasts before slipping between his mound and your belly, thumb rubbing at your clit in persistent circles. He was always so desperate for your high, wanting to hear you cry out his name from the very first thrust into you. Harry’s mouth found your throat as he bucked up into you, tongue swirling warmth across your delicate skin. He always found a way to give you exactly what you needed, exactly where you needed him, without you even having to open your mouth. From day one he’d explored your body like he’d been doing it all his life, hearts somehow connected even as he fucked you rough and dirty.

Moans were tumbling out of you now, unable to contain your pleasure as his thick cock, thumb and tongue worked in unison to bring you to your climax. Your hand shot down to grip at his wrist as your walls clamped down on him, entire body trembling as your orgasm hit you hard. “Fuck,” you cried out, head knocking back against the hard rock as you came. He kissed into your mouth, silencing your loud cry as his hand pulled back from your pussy, his thrusts harder and yet sloppier. The feeling of you coming around him was enough to push him over the edge, your already tight walls pulsating around his shaft sending a guttural moan tumbling from his lips. His come splashed against the inside of your walls violently, his mouth unable to form any of his usual obscene remarks as he thrust into you a final time. Harry stilled inside of you, forehead pressed against yours as he panted. “Better?” you asked him, chest heaving. “Much,” he confirmed, pulling out of you before stuffing his come further inside of you with two fingers. You’d decided to skip birth control for a while now, knowing you were each other’s one and only and accepting whatever may come. You pressed a kiss to the end of his nose, slipping away from him with a grin plastered on your face as you laughed, “see you at the alter, husband.”

—

You watched in the mirror as your mum pinned the veil to your head, tiny embroidered flowers cascading down your shoulders and back completing your perfect look. Sunlight streamed through the window behind you, the warmth highlighting every inch of the flowing lace. It trailed behind you, so thin and delicate it cast an angelic glow around every dip and curve of your body. Your dress was the perfect ivory satin, its square neckline and thin straps showing off your bare collarbones, ready for Harry to nuzzle into later. He’d always loved being cuddled up into the curve of your neck, his nose nudging deeper into your scent, mouth pressing delicate kisses onto your soft skin.

The shape of the material was simple, you’d wanted to keep it from obscuring the true form of your body. You knew how much Harry loved your body, and the way he adored every inch of you had made you view yourself in a new light. Your body, your face, your brain, it was all perfect for him, loved so hard by him that it made it perfect for you too. You were totally under his spell, his thoughts and feelings becoming your own. You wanted your dress to be perfect, for him and for you. It would mark the single greatest day of your life, and looking up and down yourself now, it was perfect. You’d known from the second you tried it on that this was your dress, the fit perfect even without any alterations. The satin was almost an exact match to Harry’s suit, the length sweeping the floor at the end of your long legs. You’d worried for so long that something would go wrong, something would break or you simply wouldn’t feel pretty. And yet everything was so perfect, so right that it was almost magical. You pinched the inside of your wrist lightly, needing to check you weren’t dreaming. It was all real, and all right.

You heard a choked sob from behind you, and turned to see Anne and your mum with tissues pressed to their noses, arms right around one another as they looked between each other and you. Smiling, you pulled them both into a hug. “You look incredible darling,” Anne told you. All your mum could do was nod, nod so hard her head was sure to come loose. “Come on,” you laughed. “No tears yet.”

“No tears yet,” your mum and Anne echoed, dabbing at their eyes to protect the makeup underneath. You called in your dad from outside the door, needing one last picture of you and your two mums before you headed next door into the church. “Smile ladies,” he told you, holding the little Polaroid camera up in front of his face. He looked over the little picture with sparkling eyes, one finger tracing over the sharp edge before he set it to the side. He replaced it with his phone, finger tapping harshly on the screen in a typical old man way. “One more,” he told you, shaking finger jutting into the camera button. He turned the phone around to show the three of you, you all immediately cooing over the picture. “Now get lost and let me walk my little girl up the aisle,” he told the two women as he pulled you into an embrace.

You stopped for a moment at the end of the aisle, fingernails pressing half-moons into the fabric of your dads suit. Sucking in a deep breath, you shook off the nerves and turned to face your dad. He was looking down at you proudly, blinking back the start of tears. “I love you,” you mouthed, unable to let any real words out. “Love you. You’ll always be my little Boo,” he choked out. “Now let me take you to your husband.”

The walk down the aisle felt incredibly long, like you were moving in slow motion. All you could focus on was the back of Harry’s head, one foot in front of the other until you reached him. The sun was streaming through the stained glass window, casting colourful shadows right across the middle of the tiled floor. As soon as you stepped into the light, Harry turned to see you. You’d desperately wanted to do a private first look, but Harry wanted to do it ‘properly’, see you for the first time when everyone else did. And watching him fall apart in front of you now, it was worth it. His bottom lip quivered the second he saw you, tears spilling out as his eyes trailed across your body.

He looked incredible, like pure sex as his watery eyes grazed over your body. It was like every time you saw him he managed to become more attractive. You’d been with him at each suit fitting, watched as his tailor placed each individual pin to fit the fabric perfectly to Harry’s body. But seeing him now, just a few yards away from becoming your husband, all yours forever, he was radiant. The ivory satin of his suit against the warm tan on his skin, his favourite Gucci loafers poking out of the wide leg slacks. His hands were shaking as he pulled them to his mouth, knees bent as he tried to hold himself steady at the sight of you. The way he loved you was written all over him, you could almost see his heart glowing as he watched you step closer to him.

“Hi,” you giggled as you took your final step, taking one of his hands in yours. His rings were cold against the warmth of his skin, the tiny chill sending you back down to Earth. It was like you’d floated through the whole day, heart so full you could barely focus on anything except the excitement leading up to standing there, face to face with Harry as you prepared to say your vows. The entire ceremony passed in a blur of shy smiles and giggles, commitments and vows tumbling out of your mouth as if you were on autopilot. Seemingly within one blink you were crashing your lips onto Harry’s before walking back down the aisle, hand in hand, buzzing deep in your core. You were a wife, Harry’s wife.

—

“Nearly 20 years ago, almost to this day, we made a promise to each another to wed when we were old and lonely. I lost you for so many years, my sweet girl, and my heart felt old and lonely without you. You are my happiness, my light, my home and my everything.

Those of you who know me well will know my all-time favourite movie is the Notebook. And if you thought I’d get through this speech without referencing it once, you’re mistaken.” Harry’s finger pointed through the crowd of your guests, chuckling at himself as he smirked. “‘The best love is the kind that awakens the soul and makes us reach for more, that plants a fire in our hearts and brings peace to our minds, and that's what you've given me. That's what I hope to give to you forever.’ I always imagined saying that to my future bride, though every time I imagined her I’d see someone that looks just a little like you. And as soon as I saw you again, as soon as I kissed you for the first time, every time I imagined her I’d see someone that looked exactly like you. I love you now and forever, and I will thank that pact every day for the rest of my life, for letting me come back to you.”

There wasn’t a dry eye in the house as Harry finished his speech, a proud toothy grin nestled between his dimples as he sat back down beside you, pulling your hands into his lap. He peppered kisses all over your face, mouth not even able to pout fully through the strength of his smile.

As you started to settle into his side, a soft piano sung out from across the dance floor. “Dance with me?” Harry asked, with the same boyish grin he’d had when he asked you the same question at his sister’s wedding. He led you around the table, thumb grazing delicately across your hand as he pulled you into the middle of the room. It was the same song you’d danced to then, Fleetwood Mac’s ‘songbird’. He held you close to him as you danced, stepping together slowly and carefully as if no one was watching. Your head was settled in the crook of his neck, your breath tickling against his skin. “Love you s’much,” he whispered, just loud enough for the sound to reach your ear. You felt so full you could burst, biting down on your tongue to keep the feeling from tumbling out of you. You wanted to stay like this, close against Harry, mind running through your love story, forever.

—

“Like what you see?” you asked Harry, twirling around in your tiny silver bikini. His jaw was slack, eyes trailing across every inch of tanned skin on offer. He’d been taking photos of the view from your balcony, the sun setting low against orange clouds over the Italian sea. “Come here,” he demanded, out-stretched finger beckoning you towards him. You untied the strings of your bikini as you walked, letting the tiny triangles fall under your bare breasts. The minute you were in front of him his phone was thrown against the tiled floor, crashing around somewhere near the glass sliding door. He untied the second string on your bikini, hands smoothing over your body as the material fell to your feet. He turned you around quickly, pressing you into the metal railing as he nudged your legs apart. He dropped to his knees behind you, tugging your thong bikini bottoms down your legs and groaning at the sight of you, folds slick with wet only inches from his face. “Anyone could see, Harry,” you reminded him, suddenly nervous. “Let them,” he rasped. “Let them see what I can do to you.”

His tongue was on you as soon as he spoke, diving into your folds without any warning. He lapped at you, collecting your warm juices on his tongue. “Perfect fucking pussy,” he rasped, words vibrating against your core. He paused to lick and nip at your inner thighs as your hips knocked back towards his mouth, already needing it back on you. “So needy for me,” he chuckled, snaking a hand up around your hip and smacking at your clit as he started to lick into you again. His tongue was faster now, stronger, spurred on by your desire for more. He got such a high from your pleasure, a giver through and through. His mouth suckled against your opening, tongue darting around you to collect the juices that were spilling out, before he pulled away suddenly.

You turned slightly, watching him as he pushed his shorts down his thighs. “Want you too much, want to fuck you too badly.” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. The same man who’d written songs about eating pussy, the man who’d rarely thrust into you without making you come at least twice first, stopped short of your orgasm to fuck you. He must have been close already to cut his favourite activity short.

Harry lined himself up with your entrance, one firm hand wrapping around your throat to pull you closer to him as his tip pushed into you. “Want to fuck my babies into my pretty girl, fill you up so good,” he groaned against your earlobe. He’d been feral since you’d decided to go without birth control, the idea your swollen belly, everyone knowing who’d fucked you so good, driving him insane. It sent shivers down your spine, core heating up at the thought of carrying his babies and making him a dad.

He slid into you in one fluid motion, his hard cock already red and angry with desire. His hand moved from your throat to wrap your hair around his fist, tugging at the nape of your neck so hard you worried your scalp might come loose. But the pain only added a different dimension to your pleasure, the ache in your core mixing with the pain and spreading throughout your body, fingers slack on the railing as he thrust into you without remorse. His balls slapped against your ass as his hips knocked against yours, his cock so deep inside of you that you were sure it could be seen through the skin of your belly. The sweet smell of sex and airplane sweat lingered around you both, intoxicatingly dirty. “Louder,” he urged as you bit back your moans, “want the whole country to hear how much your cunt loves me.”

You couldn’t help but give in to his every command, so drunk on his cock that you couldn’t even care who heard or saw you both. You cried out when he tugged harder on your hair, voice deep with lust as he asked you, “who’s fucking you? Who’s cock is buried in your perfect cunt?” Harry, Harry, Harry, you screamed over and over again, the ball in your core bursting at his words. Your orgasm was heavy, your juices squirting down the sides of his shaft as you fell into the railing. His thrusts never relented, your limp body beneath him not stopping him as he fucked into you harder and harder. He used his free hand to pull one cheek to the side, watching with an open mouth as he fucked deep into your pussy, your thick cream pushing up and down his shaft.

“Want you t’fill me up,” you whimpered, voice strangled by the angle of your throat. “Yeah? Want daddy’s come inside you, want my babies?” he asked you, his deep voice hoarse as he held himself back from his high. “Please,” you begged, reaching a shaky arm around to cup the back of his neck, back arching as he slipped deeper into you. He pushed you forward, hands gripping onto your waist as he thrust harder and harder. “So fuckin’ perfect,” he drawled, cock twitching inside of you as you yelled under his touch.

Harry cried out as he came inside of you, his locked jaw pressing sloppy kisses onto the back of your shoulder. He continued to thrust every last bit of his come into your walls, hips jutting towards your core. He stilled finally, cock lodged between your swollen folds as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, head resting against your lifeless body. “You ok?” he asked you, voice soft, a sudden change from the dirty rasp he had before. You nodded, still seeing stars, too fucked out to say anything. He picked you up in one swoop, carrying you into the little apartment and dropping you onto the bed with your head at the foot. He carefully picked up both your legs, balancing your tingling feet against the headboard before laying down beside you. “Got to keep them up if you want my babies,” he smirked, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. You were in total bliss, fucked out under the Italian sun, wedding band glistening in the tiny crack of light let in from the curtains. If this was how you started your honeymoon, you’d be a trembling mess by the end of it. And you’d never have it any other way.

more here! 💖

taglist: @sleutherclaw @slutforcoffein @harrysolaf @opheliaofficial07 @dragonslayersupremacy @nikkisimps @michellekstyles @im-an-overthinker @fangirl7060 @indierockgirrl @palmettogal508 @thereunion1d @angstygyal @hannah9921 @harryshotpocket

[fatkish]

hello everything is fine? If requests are still open can I request all might x wife fem!reader? The reader is a professional heroine and a professor at UA, but the relationship between All Might and the reader is a secret for the 1A students and the class ends up discovering by accident that he and the heroine reader are married? Thank you in advance

All Might x Wife Reader Headcannons

(Here’s some bits of what your life is like when you’re married to Toshinori and how you guys got together)

I strongly believe that young All Might would have been more open to relationships Pre Nana’s death

This would mean that you were likely a childhood friend or someone he knew before Nana’s death and in order to keep both himself and you safe, you both would have fled to America

Now you can have whatever quirk you want but I strongly believe that Toshinori would prefer a romantic partner who isn’t as famous as him. So likely an underground hero like Eraserhead or a support hero who helps heroes from behind screens or helps them strategize like Nedzu

During your guy’s time in America, you both met David Shield and became friends with him. David would make you some kind of super computer/information network device that would allow you to support All Might from the shadows or he’d make you a super advanced stealth suit that would help you as an underground hero

While you both are in college in America, your relationship grows and you both grow closer. Of course Toshinori has his doubts and fears about losing you to AFO, so you both decide to make a pact. You both would probably have each other agree/promise that you would live for the other if one of you dies. This would mean that if AFO kills you or you’re fatally injured in the line of duty, then Toshinori would live on and continue as a hero without letting your death prevent him from moving forward and the same would go for you if he died

Due to All Might’s rising fame, after you both graduate from college, you both decide to get married but do it discreetly so that means little to no ceremony and you both would hide your relationship from the world and public. Only Grand Torino, Sir Nighteye, David Shield and Nedzu would know that you’re together

You both wouldn’t wear rings so as to not let people know you’re married

When AFO has his big fight with Toshinori that causes him to lose organs and gives him his scar, you, unlike everyone else, support his decision to continue fighting even if it’ll kill him since you know that it’s what he wants to do

After that, you decide to take up a teaching position at UA, as a close combat/martial art instructor and a second English teacher since you’ve actually been overseas in an English speaking country

With your new job you’re able to come home and care for Toshinori’s wound and make meals for him that are easy for him to eat

The students love you. They love listening to your stories of America and they learn a lot. You had helped Nedzu and Present Mic come up with a voluntary English pen pal program with a hero school in America. The program allows for students to write letters between each other and lets them establish contacts in America and it counts as extra credit in their English classes.

Since no one knows that you’re married, the kids freak out when they learn that you’re married to All Might once he retires

Midoriya is surprised that he didn’t know about you and asks you so much about your life with All Might

The girls are always asking for romantic stories about you and All Might.

The kids love to hear stories of young All Might, much to Toshinori’s embarrassment, and constantly ask questions about the two of you

All in all, after All Might retires, you’re the only person who doesn’t protect him and make him feel like he’s someone who needs to be protected and treated like glass

He’s so thankful and happy that he married you

[littlemisshyperfixation]

Minghao Fic Recommendations

a - angst f - fluff s - smut

One Shots

WANTED U (a f s) by @hannieehaee ✩♬ ₊˚. everything about your relationship with minghao was perfect, leaving you with no complaints. except maybe in one area: minghao's stoic attitude during sex, making you entirely insecure about whether he wanted you as bad as you did him, or if he was maybe just too in love with you to let you down.

Playing Cupid (s) by @sluttywonwoo ✩♬ ₊˚. minghao made a pact with some of the other members to tell his crush how he feels about them on valentine's day… but he isn't sure if you feel the same way

the letter (a f) by @toruro ✩♬ ₊˚. in which you’re jun's little sister and have been pining for a man so close yet so out of reach for ages. now, years later, when you see minghao all grown up, famous, and still making your heart flutter, you're not so sure what to do about your not-so-little crush.

hi (i love you) (f) by @wheeboo ✩♬ ₊˚. in which you take a trip through random glimpses of your growing relationship with minghao.

to love easily (a s f) by @minghaoyoudoin ✩♬ ₊˚. fake dating the beautiful stranger you met in the men’s room: what could go wrong?

Arranged Marriage (s) by @hoshifighting ✩♬ ₊˚. Where you and Minghao parents had this grand scheme to merge their companies by marrying you off, thinking it'd be a brilliant business move. Determined to stake your claim and keep your marriage intact, your make a bold move during a business party— planting a lipstick-stained kiss on Minghao's lips and yanking him by his tie, leaving no doubt that he's yours and yours alone.

Break and Return (s) by @cheolism ✩♬ ₊˚. last week minghao did what he thought was best and put an end to your fling. he sees you again before band practice and can't help but give in to his desires.

The Monster in the Closet (s) by @cheolism ✩♬ ₊˚. there's nothing the demon in your closet loves more than when you fall asleep.

oh, my! (s f) by @toruro ✩♬ ₊˚. choosing to be roommates with vernon chwe would undeniably be one of the few life-changing decisions you made in your lifetime. he brought along support, friendship, and most importantly: a hot friend. — or, in which you’re roommates with vernon and you happen to fall for one of his many chaotic friends.