#rip king you live on in my heart
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cockringhoratio · 2 years ago
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the finale definitely helps tighten up what tristamp is Going For but it is definitely my hbomberguy deus ex: human revolution. like if its the only trigun youve ever experienced, its fine. youll have fun. its not bad, but its like intentionally handicapping itself by going back and undoing the choices that made the original so good. the fight scenes are really solid. the narrative has definitely been influenced by a decade of marvel save the cat schlock. you win some you lose some.
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total-drama-brainrot · 11 months ago
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headcanoning all of my favourite characters as somewhere under the aro/ace umbrellas as a treat to myself.
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the-acid-pear · 1 year ago
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These two lines really make me feel like Susie is only a bully for, let's say, survival reasons. But that's as coherent as i can get so i'm going to ramble the rest of my thoughts on the tags.
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bunnis-monsters · 1 month ago
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The mating bond of a prince
Yandere!Demon Prince x Fem!Reader
Bunni’s Monstertober Event
Oct 17th
Oct 16
Oct 18
summary:
warning: dubcon, kind of angsty, breeding, mating, marking, possessive and obsessive behavior
a/n: I wanna do more with this concept, but here’s a snippet for monstertober because I’m behind ><
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Demons were said to be cruel creatures incapable of love or empathy, soulless beings that fed on fear and misery… and for the most part, that was true.
But what humans didn’t know about demons was one simple fact. There is only one person that they will ever love and care for…
Their mate.
Every demon was born into the world with one thought in their mind.
To find their mate.
Soon, other thoughts would pop up from time to time. They had to eat to continue the search for their mate, tear down humans cities to help their species thrive so their mate would have a comfortable place to live once they found them.
If they didn’t fight to end human civilization, where would their mates live and raise young? Taking their beloved back to hell with them was out of the question!
This was how the demon king managed to help demon numbers increase and keep his army growing. If each demon was born with the urge to procreate and create a good nesting ground for their mate, they could be easily controlled.
He just hadn’t expected his son, the prince of hell to be bound to a human.
The prince had recently conquered a small village. As he went about killing the men, his entire body began to throb.
In the distance, he smelled something that had his head spinning. One of the small cottages was on fire, that heavenly scent coming from inside.
He felt his body being pulled towards it, so he completely ignored the humans attempting to kill him and walked towards the cottage.
Breaking down the door was easy, but being enveloped in your overwhelming scent made it hard to think.
The second he saw you, injured and barely confused as a fellow demon stood over your fragile, human body, he felt something he had never felt before.
Protective.
Within seconds he was shirking your body, his claw drenched in the demons blood from ripping his throat out. Why was he doing this? You were just some human woman, but his soul was bound to you.
He couldn’t let you die.
When you woke up, you were somewhere strange… some sort of contraption beeped next to you, the beeps increasing in frequency as you sat up and looked around… only to spot a demon by your bed.
All you felt was pure terror.
You stared at the creature whose specifies was responsible for the deaths of so many of your friends and family, who killed innocents in cold blood. Tears streamed down your face as you tried to speak.
“Please… let me go…”
But when the prince looked into your eyes for the first time, his body felt like it had been set on fire.
He loved you, and you were his mate.
Not once in his life had he ever looked upon another creature with such fondness and care. The prince made his way to your bed, kneeling by your side and taking your hand.
“My love… oh, my darling do not fear… here you are safe, you’ll be treasured for all eternity…”
He kissed the back of your hand, your gut burning with anger and shame. This thing had taken you as some sort of… bride?
“W-what about my family?”
The words finally came out after a few days in the hospital. In this time, you learned that demon society was far ahead of the human one, with machines that could monitor your heart rate and medicines that kept you from being in pain.
It was… comfortable.
He looked up at you, his eyes dark and cold. “What about them? They are humans, they will be culled like the rest.”
You clutched your blanket in your fists, your eyes welling up with tears. Something about you crying made his chest ache, and the prince reached out to caress your cheek.
“Why do you cry? Are you not comfortable?”
The demon could not comprehend your feelings towards your loved ones. He simply saw them as pests that needed to be eradicated, and could only feel love for you, his mate.
“They’re my family, I love them!”
Your sudden exclamation had him raising an eyebrow, his tail twitching. Were they really that important?
The prince knew that every human from your village was already dead, there was no way your family had survived. But to placate his mate, he wrapped his tail around you, using his soft black wings to encircle you and bring you close.
“I’ll have my men escort them somewhere safe. You may not see them, but they will live.”
This lie made you relax, and you settled into his arms. You felt like you could finally rest, and slept like a baby for the first time since you had been taken away.
The prince wanted to take things slow, but news that his mate had turned out to be a human woman spread through the kingdom until it reached his father.
He was called in to meet with the King, who was displeased, but mildly amused.
“I hear you’ve taken on a human mate, my son. You know how the royal court will react.”
The prince nodded, standing tall and confident in front of his father. “I am prepared to defend my mate to my dying breath, as would any demon.”
“That’s all well and good, but a human mate is an eyesore. You should hurry up and get her pregnant, there will be less danger once an heir is produced.”
Everyone knew that demon blood was powerful, being the dominant trait in every pairing. Once she was pregnant with the heir to the throne, not a single creature would dare to touch her.
It had only been a week since you had been home from the hospital, staying with the demon prince when suddenly approached you.
“My love…”
His lips peppered across your neck, hands holding onto your waist before sliding to your hips. “I wanted to wait… to give you time to adjust…”
You froze when his tail moved between your legs, rubbing against your clothed cunt. “But this is the only way to keep you safe… please, don’t be afraid… I’ll be gentle.”
The pieces slowly came together as his tail played with your cunt, rubbing against your panties before slipping under them and toying with your clit.
His hand was on your belly, eyes darting between your face and thighs. The way he moved his hand around your stomach…
He was going to breed you.
You squirmed for a bit, letting out an uncomfortable whine, but settled down when his clawed hand danced across your chest, groping one of your breasts as his face buried itself into your neck.
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, love… this life is comfortable, isn’t it? I can give you a life of peace and safety, where you don’t have to fear war or pain. You’ll be taken care of.”
The very thought of some human male touching his lover made a growl rumble in his chest. You’d be staying with him, that wasn’t an option… but he wanted it to be something you chose yourself.
It felt sinful feeling wet from the demon playing with your fat pussy. His fingers pumped in and out of your as the tip of his tail continued to stimulate your clit, your juices flowing down your thighs.
He said your family was safe… was it so bad to let this demon take you as his mate? You were tired of long nights full of screams from people running from demons, of days without a proper meal as you rationed your supplies so you wouldn’t have to leave your home.
Couldn’t you live a comfortable life? You’ve suffered enough…
So you let him pin you down, watching as his fat cock rubbed against your leg. You had never seen a man naked before, so you were unsure if the size was normal… but you knew it had to be bigger than average.
His wings fluttered as his cock rested against your thigh. It nudges you, his tail lifting from your cunt to your tits, playing with them.
“I love you… more than you could ever imagine. You never have to want for anything again. I’ll give you everything…”
The pain of him taking your virginity made you cry out, your nails digging into his forearm. It didn’t hurt him at all, and he simply cooed, his wings soft as he dried his best to comfort you.
“Shh… shh… oh, my love I know it hurts. It won’t be for long…”
His lips pressed against your forehead, sweat already beading down. It wasn’t easy trying to take something so large inside of you for the first time…
The second you eased into it a bit, he pulled back out and slammed into you. He hadn’t meant to be rough, but he had struggled to control his urge to breed you from the second he realized you were his mate.
“I love you…” he murmured, gripping your hips as he fucked you, his teeth lightly gracing your neck. He wanted to cover you in bites and hickeys, claiming you completely.
He wasn’t done with you until your belly bulged with his cum. You smelled so much like him that he was a sappy mess.
You were exhausted, sore, and in need of a bath… but your demon mate curled around you protectively, kissing all over your body.
Within a month you were confirmed to be pregnant, and were moved into the palace as a princess.
You’d live a life of comfort… but were practically betraying your species by baring the future demon prince.
The current demon prince would soon be king, and you his queen.
An honor and the biggest shame.
———————
NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat
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midnightwriter21 · 8 months ago
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jjk hcs: the jjk boys as boyfriends
characters: yuji itadori, megumi fushiguro, yuta okkotsu
warnings: none (i think?)
AN: if there’s anymore boyfriend hcs that you’d like to see lmk!! read gojo & nanami as boyfriends HERE
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YUJI ITADORI
oh girl i am JEALOUS
he can be a little air headed at times but he’s the sweetest bf ever
i say he’s air headed but he’s actually very attentive
you get half an inch trimmed off your hair?
he notices immediately
“babe your hair looks great!”
notices everything about you actually
from your favorite color
to the brand of PENS you prefer to use
who tf notices the brand of pens people use?!?
yuji does
yk the tiktoks of boys picking entire BUSHES of flowers for their girlfriends
that’s him.
he straight up rips a whole bush out of the ground from the front of jujutsu high to give to you
principal yaga was not amused
gojo was tho
HE PRINTS OUT YOUR INSTAGRAM PICTURES TO REPLACE THE POSTERS OF MODELS ON HIS WALL
he’s so proud that your his girl fr
oh and he’s gotta hella pet names for you too
they’re all super basic
babe, sweetheart, cutie, etc.
he flirts w u like y’all aren’t together
awful pickup lines and everything
“do you have a mirror in ur pants? cause i can see myself in them.”
if u don’t think he’s the cutest then u can go argue with the wall bye
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MEGUMI FUSHIGURO
he has me in a chokehold
anyways
at the beginning of y’all’s relationship he’s awkward as fuck
but he eases up pretty quickly
veryyyyyy private with y’all’s relationship
if you somehow get him to hold your hand in public let alone give you a kiss?!?
girl count ur blessings fr
and it’s not bc he’s embarrassed of your relationship or anything no ma’am
it’s bc he would NEVER hear the end of it from gojo, nobara, and yuji
valid excuse
but when you two are alone?
oh girl it’s like he’s glued to you
when i say clingy? i mean it
also
king of nap time!!
he’s kidnapping u, bring you to his dorm room, dropping u on the bed, and laying completely on top of you
swear it’s his solution to everything
ur tired? it’s nap time
sad abt something? it’s nap time
a curse beat ur ass? it’s nap time
gojo is being annoying? it’s nap time
nap time cures everything ong
he’s not too crazy w the pet names
in private he’ll call you babe
in public you’re lucky if he adds a -chan to ur name lol
he’s so pretty boy
also can we appreciate his gorgeous luscious eyelashes?
no? okay
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YUTA OKKOTSU
i would give my first born to make him feel happy, safe, and loved
KING OF MY HEART
he’s so baby
he’s the type of bf that no matter how long y’all have been dating he still gets flustered over you
y’all been together for an hour? he’s blushing when you give him a kiss on the cheek
y’all been together for a week? he’s blushing when you give him a kiss on the cheek
y’all been together for a year? he’s BLUSHING WHEN YOU GIVE HIM A KISS ON THE CHEEK
HE. IS. BLUSHING.
which is so incredibly endearing and innocent
but don’t get me wrong
mess with this man too much?
oh he’ll snap
he has the patience of a saint. but when it runs out?
oh ur in for it miss gurl
period.
teasing him a lil too much tryna make him flustered
when he finally snaps he is switching that dynamic up real quick
now he’s the one smirking and feeling all smug while you’re the one with the bright red face
ahem…
anyways
yuta’s love for you is very intense
now don’t start thinking HE is intense cause no
i mean yuta loves you so much that he might just crawl up inside ur body and live there
that type of intense
you occupy his mind 99.9% of the time
he’s on a mission and has time to stroll through the mall
“oh y/n would like that” aND HE’S BUYING IT
he’s chit chatting with inumaki and panda
best believe he finds a way to bring you up in conversation
“oh! that reminds me y/n said something the other day about…”
he is the softest ever when it comes to pet names
sweetheart, my love, princess, etc.
i’m so soft for him he deserve the world
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visenyaism · 7 days ago
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Aegon Unworthy Administration Dashboard Simulator
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⚔️ whiteswordtowerrr
the gold cloaks found my aegmon rpf guys it might be a while before my next update
💫 maidens-grace Follow
RIP OP this is why RPF is not only problematic (sinful against the Maiden AND the Smith) but will also literally deservedly get your skull put on a spike
⚔️ whiteswordtowerrr
I lived bitch. king aegon made me read it out loud to his brother because he thought it was funny but then he let me go. new chapter dropping in 20 minutes
#the dragonknight got all purple and furious but he did just have to stand there and take it. Just like in this next chapt- #the king did hook up with my sister afterwards though. what can you do
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🍒lanadelreyene Follow
listennnnn im not saying he’s perfect im just saying liberating women from religious oppression and literal imprisonment in the maidenvault and letting his girl cousin do the economy and elevating women of all social standings to positions of prominence isnt NOTHING.
🫀tree-hearted
“king aegon is a feminist” “criston cole had hoes” you people will say anything on this website.
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🛡️knighttime Follow
just saw that Daemon Waters kid like the king’s four year old bastard do a perfect standing backflip in the training yard. Kind of compelling. Kind of kingly. I don’t know…
#can prince daeron do a flip?????
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🐉 rhaenyra-did-nothing-wrong Follow
It’s SO disgusting how the king would hire a H*ghtower hand only 50 years after that wretched family MURDERED HIS GRANDMOTHER AFTER USURPING HER THRONE. #UNWORTHYGATE
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🪙 laenycashmoney150
Me and that nasty old man. To be honest
🌈 crystalcrowned Follow
I block everyone who is horny on main about the king on principle because fornication is a sin but op is talking about ALYN OAKENFIST?????? Girl.
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🙌 fleabottomtop
Sneaking in through the secret tunnels in the red keep to smuggle queen naerys a vibrator and a blunt this shit is getting out of hand
💐 summersepta Follow
she would not like that. try again.
🙌 fleabottomtop
sneaking in through the secret tunnels in the the red keep to smuggle queen naerys a prayer book and a cigarette
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🦇whentch
🐲 rogue-princess Follow
if i speak....🙈🤐
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🐦‍⬛ raventreeballer-deactivated89169
FYI @ brackennation literally seduced the king to use her influence to ban pro-Blackwood posts on here. block and report this treacherous whore ASAP
🐎 brackennation-deactivated47170
I know it’s you missy. KYS jealous cunt
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🎻bardalicious Follow
king aegon’s collection of teenage mistresses posting through it on the dash again
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🔥 fireandwaters Follow
Sooooo sick of seeing delusional reachers reclaiming dragons**d as if that’s not a literal crownlands-specific slur used against the Valyrian-Westerosi community in King’s Landing and Dragonstone. I don’t care how many ae’s your grandma has in her name you are a HIGHTOWER you are a TARLY you are a REDWYNE you are seven forgive me for even saying this a BEESBURY. Categorically NOT a seed. It’s basically valyrian racefaking at this point
⛓️‍ gaymanpalehair Follow
Say it louder for the Great Bastards in the back!!!!!! theyre literally noble
🔥fireandwaters Follow
No I can say it?? I’m from KL I’m in the community why would it matter if I’m acknowledged
🌼 ever-sweet Follow
Seven hells my great-grandsire literally rode caraxes and I can’t acknowledge my own heritage? Dragonseed literally applies to ANY👏ONE👏of👏TAR👏GARYEN👏DES👏CENT.
🪵 kingswoody
At the rate the king is going everyone in the realm will be able to reclaim dragonseed in 20 years come on now
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🐦‍⬛raventreeballer Follow
are we not going to acknowledge the toxic power imbalance of the king having had TWO Bracken mistresses and ONE Blackwood mistress????
🐚besterling Follow
THAT’S the toxic power imbalance you want to talk about??? That one??? Nothing else???
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🔮hightowered Follow
okay I thought the valyrian racefaking discourse on here was dumb as shit but tell me WHY i just saw my bastard cousin serena change her name to “serenei” on all her socials and then start telling people she was from lys and can’t speak common.
#Good thing we’re dragonseeds otherwise this would be insane
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🐟rainbowtrout Follow
non-riverlanders in 20 years when the Bracken-Blackwood beef becomes everybody’s problem because it’s a Targaryen civil war
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🍎 fossoshethey
Quick where's that one meme about the valyrian god of prophecy playing dodgelance with random tumblr users
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🎭mummersfarce Follow okay I’ll bite. did king aegon the unworthy fourth of his name do something problematic.
✨ fleabottombottom Follow
well as a dragonseed of dance-era descent i gotta say i am not appreciating how hard it is to buy purple shampoo in flea bottom recently what with the rate at which blonde bitches are being created in this kingdom fucking skyrocketing
🎭mummersfarce Follow
fucked up. blocking him now ✊
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l-uminescent · 4 months ago
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˚⁀➷。˚ FISHERMAN ━━━ LUCERYS VELARYON X FEM! READER
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synopsis: after the events of storm's end, the seven kingdoms of westeros believe lucerys velaryon to be dead. brutality murdered at the hands of aemond targaryen, the dance of the dragon inevitability follows. however, what the targaryen's don't realise is that luke washed up on the shores of tarth. alive.no memory other than his first name and a love of the oceans he becomes a fisherman, falling in love with you in the process.
notes: genuinely don’t think i can write anything that isn’t at least somewhat angsty anymore. this theory also makes me ugly cry omg, i miss luke. speaking of, he’s been aged up to 19! also, if anyone wants to be hotd besties my chat box is calling!
warnings: angst, fluff, feelings of loneliness alluding to depression, mentions of violence, death and blood.
word count: 3.9k
THE EVENTS OF STORM'S END HAD BECOME COMMON KNOWLEDGE ACROSS THE SEVEN KINGDOMS OF WESTEROS. screams of 'kinslayer' echoed across the realm after the cruel death lucerys velaryon received at the hands of his uncle aemond targaryen had been revealed. as a result, his death saw many rushing to support rhaenyra targaryen's claim, turning their backs to the greens in disgust and inevitability contributing to the blacks winning the war. 
unbeknownst to anyone, lucerys velaryon had survived. it was a miracle by the gods how he had evaded the bloodied teeth of vhagar, who had viciously ripped into arrax's poor unsuspecting neck. the plummeting fall of both boy and dragon was sure to solidify their deaths, however in their final moments the young dragon was able to shield his rider from the full effects of the vast ocean. as much a bastard as lucerys was, the water had favoured him that day. allowing his unconscious body to be rocked between waves, he ended up washing up on the shores of tarth. sadly the waves were not so kind to the body of arrax, as he arrived a broken mess at the cliffs of storm's end, completely riderless. 
lucerys velaryon, woke up with a thudding in his head and an ache in his bones nearly a moon after aemond targaryen had been branded a kinslayer. how he managed to survive the cruel nature of the ocean, with nothing to sustain him remained unknown (it is suspected that house velaryon may have ran through his veins after all.) he had little to no memory of the events that had occurred —waking up only with the name 'luke' and a feeling of sincere gratitude for the ocean. 
as the years passed, luke had settled, making a home in a small fishing village, earning a living in providing food for the people he lived near. his memories began to return to him after a while but he made no effort in returning to the targaryen's. with only money to afford a small hut and enough food to survive, he had no means of making the journey back to dragonstone or king's landing, as he heard his mother had taken seat upon the iron throne. he now lived a lonely life, one in which he forced the effects of the war to play little on his mind. even still that didn't stop the ache in his heart that yearned for his family as the loneliness he returned to every night was an unfulfilling replacement.
you on the other hand, had convinced yourself that you favoured the loneliness your little hut you shared with your uncle had to offer. it was located at a decent distance from the bustling docks, giving you peace. you adored your uncle, but he was always off at sea fishing, never staying more for a few days at a time. nevertheless,your heart yearned for something more in life than what you had. you wanted friends, family, love; something that solitude couldn't give you. you spent your days selling fish for your uncle's business. you enjoyed the hard work, it kept your mind from thinking of how alone you felt. your uncle had entrusted you with this, saying that a pretty face would encourage many to buy off you, before he set sail again across the water's to gain more from the ocean to put money in both yours and his pockets. allowing you to keep half of his earnings, it was more than enough to buy you a small home of your own that was always kept warm, and food in your belly to keep you alive. 
as the sun rose from the east illuminating the blue embers of the ocean, you arose to start another days work of selling fish. it had come to your attention in recent moons, that your uncle's business was not doing as well as it had done in previous years. and you had your suspicions that this was due to a  curly haired brunette boy who had appeared a few years ago.
you had yet to see the boy, but you had heard whispers that he was a natural at  sea. and at only the age of ten and nine, he was able to set sail  on his lonesome and acquire more than enough fish in a day than your uncle was able to in a week. distaste bubbled in your stomach at the boy stealing business from you. you brushed these thoughts aside as you readied yourself, if he stuck to the other side of the village than there would be no problems between the two of you.
setting off to work, your stall gleamed with delight as you opened it for another day of work. the bustling crowds however, were no where to be seen that day. something was off. pulling on your cloak, you ventured onto the creaky boards in hopes of working out why business was so dead today.
and alas you found the reason.
crowds gathered around another stall only mere metres away from yours. and as you peered in an attempt to work out who had stolen your customers your eyes met with that of a brown mop of hair. it was the boy, luke,you had heard so much about. he was a lot prettier than you had expected. standing tall, the brunette's hair fell just above his eyes, freckles adorned his tanned cheeks, splattered unevenly like the stars that hung over tarth at the hour of the bat. his eyes matched his hair perfectly, coffee coloured orbs flickered from customer to customer as he tried to keep up with the many orders he was receiving. 
with a grumble, you made your way over to luke's stall. pushing past the fierce crowds proved a hard task but it wasn't long until you managed to make your way past as you ducked and dodged the villagers. 
now coming face to face with the boy, you were able to appreciate him a lot more. he had an air of beauty that seemed all so foreign to you, almost otherworldly which intrigued you greatly. nevertheless, you refused to let this distract you from what you had came to do. 
"you stole my business." you stated above the chatter of the men next to you who were keen on ordering the fresh cod brought in. 
luke's eyes flickered over to you for a second, deeming your words not worthy for a response as he had plenty of hungry customers to feed. who were you to say he was stealing? after all, he deserved to make a living just as much as you. 
you were far from disheartened at his attempt of ignoring you instead, it fanned the anger that grew as the seconds passed. you weren't giving up without a fight. "helloo! i was talking to you." you spoke louder than before.
"what?" he snapped, clearly annoyed at the disruption of his work. 
a sigh escaped your lips at his rudeness. "you stole my business. i do not know what you intended to happen when you moved to my side of the village, but i surely do not appreciate the lack of customers i'm receiving because of your ignorance." as you spoke, your voice got even louder as you grew more frustrated, almost as if you were shouting. the boy's clear lack of care annoyed you to no end as he just stared at you blankly before a smirk adorned his lips. 
"s'not my fault my fish is nicer than yours." 
the rage that took hold left you a stuttering mess as you struggled for a reply to his response. your reddened cheeks that were once filled with fire, quickly turned a dusty pink at the embarrassment you felt at your feeble attempt of talking. before you could make matters worse with your blubbering, you turned away from the fisherman and grumbled the entire way back to your own stall, thinking of what you could of said in return as you began to calm down. gods how you hated him.
━━━━━━━━━━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ━━━━━━━━━
as the moons passed, it appeared that you and luke had built up some sort of petty rivalry, an odd friendship forming as a result, much to the villages enjoyment. you each strove to make more money than the other in a day, with many of the villagers placing bets on who would win. it annoyed you to no end on the days when you saw that the brunette had attracted the most customers. 
as the sun began to set once more across the waters, you could not help having a satisfied smirk on your face, a gloating look in your eye as you came face to face with the boy after another days work. one in which saw your uncle's fishery the winner.
"come to declare yourself the loser?" you called out, shutting up your stall for the day. "or have you come to admit that my fish is better. either or, it means i am the better out of the two of us."
luke let out a small chuckle at your bragging, he would never admit it but the rivalry between the two of you often brought a small smile to his face. "you would love that."
you let out a laugh in response at his sarcasm, running your tongue over your lips. just as he, you would never admit to anyone that you too enjoyed the odd friendship that blossomed with the boy, putting it down to having a small crush on the brunette. but who could you blame you, he wasn't exactly bad looking. he held such an ethereal, elegant aura. and you knew it to be an opinion thought by many, as you often overheard sailor's daughter's gossiping about his looks, comparing his nature to what they imagined the targaryen royalty to be like. 
"no. i have come to show you something." 
luke was like an open book most of the time, easy to read as he tried to suppress the small smirk that he fought hard to not wear. looking at him to continue, he grabbed your hand, pulling you behind him as he weaved between the other men and women who were closing up shop for the day. your face heating at the action, your heart beat doubling as your hand was in his calloused one. damn the gods for making him gorgeous.
pulling you further, the two of you crossed the wooden planks that were the only thing separating your feet from the ocean below. luke came to a stop abruptly, dropping your hand in the process. you couldn't help but feel a tad disappointed at the action. the feeling evident on your face, as he looked upon you with confusion in his eyes.
unknown to your oblivious mind, the boy seemed to harbour the affection you held for him. what started off as a small acknowledgment of your beauty when he first laid eyes on you quickly festered into something more. your witty and sarcastic nature, drew him closer to you. he found himself looking forward to working as he rose each day knowing that by the end, you two would inevitably end up talking due to the 'rivalry' that was established. 
at this revelation, he vowed that he would end this childish war between the two of you. luke did not seem to have many friends, only the people he fished with and even then he only deemed these people as acquaintances. since the divide in his family and being brutally torn from those he loved, luke yearned for the comfort of another, his heart wrenching at the thought of his family. he found himself craving his mother's warm touch on particularly cold nights, how she lulled him to sleep with her stories of targaryen history when the storms of dragonstone frightened his younger self. gods, he even missed her scoldings. he would do anything to relive the stern telling off he would receive if he appeared to dine with his hair a mess, if it meant being with her another day. his heart also longed for his elder brother, the endless teasing for being an awful sword fighter played on his mind whenever he lifted a blade. jacaerys' strong-willed and hot-tempered nature was also a feature evident in you. it brought a sense of solace whenever you fought, causing him to wear a soft smile as he reflected on the petty arguments with his brother. you seemed to embody all the good things of his past life. and he would be damned to let that go.
luke picked up quickly the skill of reading people in order to survive after he woke up on tarth. how their little habits lead to their true motivations and how their eyes often conveyed the feelings they tried so hard to hide. he saw this in you. despite building your walls high, presenting a hard exterior to assure that you were perfectly capable surviving on your own, he saw the distress within. after observing you for quite some time during your rivalry, he intended to find the ladder to climb over the walls you had spent so long constructing. he noted how you were often by yourself. independent yes, but he also saw the glint of loneliness in your eyes as they lingered a second too long on groups of friends and families who cared for one another. he knew you had your uncle, but he was away so often at sea that you barely saw the man. luke wanted to be that sense of escape for you. he believed that together, you could each provide some sort of comfort for the other, and he was determined to make this reality.
"hurry up then." playfulness dripped from your tone, breaking him out of his thoughts. his left hand came to hold the back of his neck in embarrassment for having been caught lost in thought about you.
luke had brought you to what appeared to be some sort of a pond. it was truly magnificent in your eyes. you had no idea a place like this existed so close to the docks you resided near. 
willow trees stretched far, their weeping leaves swaying effortlessly in the salty breeze that brushed past. as the two of you ventured closer you noticed that towards the edges of the pond, plants grew freely around it, obscuring the full vastness of the water. as the sun set, it made the sight in front of you even more wondrous. hues of purple blue and orange were reflected on the surface, only to be disrupted moments later by lily pads that bristled past as the winds willed them. moss stuck close to the rocky edge, only to be gone seconds later when fish braved the shallow waters in search for food. your eyes seemed transfixed on the sight before you. the only sounds heard for miles was the salty breeze and the fish that swam. oh, and of course your hammering heart.
without a word, luke made his way closer to the ponds edge, taking a seat against the bark of the closest willow tree, beckoning you to follow his actions. "i come here to think." he started, an airy tone in his voice. you recognised the tone well, often finding yourself reflecting on the times of your childhood when things were much easier. "we're two sides of the same coin, you and i" he continues on. "as much as we bicker, we only have each other."
you brought your knees up to your chest as he spoke, turning your head to look at him. the words hit hard, rubbing salt into the gaping wound of loneliness that has found a home in your heart. luke took your saddened eyes and silence as a sign to speak further. "i wish to tell you about my past. if only you promise you will stick by me, and not breathe a word of it to another."
he looked upon you intently. coffee eyes, boring into your own, trying to work out how you would react to his confession. the shock was plain in your face at the serious connotations behind his words. how the two of you went from rivals to having a heart to heart was unknown. but you did not mind. the shift in the wind revealed the truth in his feelings for you and allowed you to feel safe with the boy next to you, a lot safer than you had felt in a long time. your mind had stilled for what felt like the first time in years; luke's presence in this moment allowing you to calm, reflecting the atmosphere he trusted to show you. and you intended to honour this trust.
"i promise."
luke visibly relaxed at your words, you now held the trust of each other. a silent vow passed over the two of you; you would remain by each other's side through whatever the gods plans. having only each other as an escape from loneliness, you welcomed this promise with warmth. you shuffled closer to him showing that you had meant what you said, your tucked legs now touching his outstretched ones. taking it as a sign of comfort, luke mustered up the courage to interlock your hands. he needed a source to ground him before he told you the tale, your soft hands proving perfect for the job.
"as you know i'm not from here. i washed up on the shores of tarth many, many years ago." his voice trembled slightly as he recounted the story of his childhood for the first time. you began to slowly rub circles with your thumb, showing him that it was alright as you listened intently. "i was born in king's landing to my mother rhaenyra targaryen."
you were taken aback by his confession yet deep in your heart you knew it to to be true. anyone else who would make such a claim would be called a liar the moment the words slipped from their mouth. however, the tone of luke's voice, and the pain evident in his features told you enough. he wasn't lying.
his lip wobbled slightly as he fought the tears that wanted to fall, the heartbreak in his voice and how his eyes glossed at the pain willed you to fish for his other hand. now facing each other with interlocked hands, luke found the strength to continue. "i loved them so so much. but the war- the split in my family was too much." his voice cracked as he reminisced on the tragedy that struck. the anguish broke your heart, you hated seeing the boy who was once so full of mischief in such distress. you felt helpless seeing him, only being able to offer him comfort with the pads of your thumbs drawing soothing circles. 
"luke it's alright." you soothed, eyes staring into his. "you do not have to talk about it if it causes too much suffering."
a small sad smile graced his lips. "no. i want to." he sighed, taking a deep breathe before he carried on. "when i was sent as a messenger to storm's end. only a boy of ten and four, i was promised that i would be welcomed, that my grandmother's family would show me hospitality. i was wrong. aemond was there and i-i thought i would be able to escape. arrax was fast, and i was stupid enough to believe we would make it. it's my fault he's gone. i was stupid enough to think i could outrun vhagar. s' my fault he's dead, he shielded me from the jaws of vhagar and from the ocean below and i never did anything to protect him."
he couldn't help the streams of tears that fell from his face as he mentioned his dragon. "and i have wanted every single day since washing up here to return to dragonstone. but i can't. i don't have the means to, i barely have enough to survive- and- i would not know if it would cause more harm than good."
you had heard the rumours of what had happened to lucerys velaryon from sailors who passed by. how his uncle had viciously murdered him in cold blood, being branded as a kinslayer in return. you had also heard whispers of the bonds targaryens had with their dragons, how sacred it was to hold such a connection with the beasts amazed you. you could not fathom the pain that luke felt with the lose of his closest friend. 
without thinking, you drew the crying boy closer to you. embracing him as tears still pooled from his eyes. muttering hushes, your hands weaved through his hair willing him to calm. "luke, i am more than sure that your family would welcome you with open arms with your return, and i will help bring you to them myself if you wish it." you paused, waiting for his reaction. a slight sniffle from him was enough for you to resume. "and i know nothing i say will ever bring your dragon back, but i am undoubtedly certain that arrax had loved you with all his heart and would have saved you a million times over. it is not your fault you were attacked on a diplomatic mission. it was no one's fault but the prince's."
silence engulfed you before a small "thank you." was muttered into your back. 
"no, thank you." you replied. "thank you for trusting me enough to tell me this luke."
as he drew back from the embrace, his glossed eyes once again met yours. you didn't know if it was your shared pain that did it, or the knowledge that you two now trusted each other that drew his lips to yours. but whatever it was, you were grateful for. every emotion felt was poured into the kiss. your hands once again found his hair as his calloused hands cradled your jaw, exacerbating how much you needed one another in that moment. loneliness, suffering, pain, yearning, love. none of it needed to be said. the kiss was word enough. 
pulling away from each other, you settled your head in the crook of his neck breathing him in as his head rested upon yours. after keeping the information bottled up for so long, luke finally felt free after revealing the truth, a white flag had been presented in the war that raged in his mind. and under the willow tree as you drifted off to sleep, still entangled with him, he had decided that maybe he did not need to threat about returning to his family. the thought of living a quiet life in tarth may finally bring him the peace he had wanted for so long. 
as he had you to live it with.
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ponderingmoonlight · 3 months ago
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I love your writing, you are very talented. Can I request a story about Sanemi? The story goes like this: “On the day when all the hunters are fighting Muzan, Sanemi's wife went into labor (could you put his wife giving birth to triplets?). I love you darling.
Sanemi's wife giving birth during the Infinity Castle Battle
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Pairing: Sanemi x fem!reader
Word Count: 2k
Synopsis: You were so sure your husband will guide you through the delivery of your triplets until the fight between Muzan and the demon slayer corps - including Sanemi. Will you make it all on your own? And will your husband return to your side in time?
Warnings: this is pure drama and I cried a little while writing lol, never gave birth to a child so sorry if this is trash, big angst but fluff in the end, ENJOY 🤍
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The night air is thick with tension, each breath you take carrying the weight of what is happening just beyond the horizon. You can feel it in your bones, a concerning anxiety that creeps up your spine and settles in your racing heart. Tonight is the night, the one you dreaded for so long—the final battle against Muzan Kibutsuji, the king of demons.
But for you, the darkness that threatens to consume the world is nothing against the raging in your own body. It was a risk all along and you knew it since Shinobu delivered the news to you. Getting pregnant at such times, carrying for a child in the middle of an endless battle? And to top it all off…With triplets?
“We’re gonna figure this out. Together. After all, I’ll rip off the head of anyone who gets too close to you!”
“You really don’t need to do that, Sanemi.”
The warm words of your husband linger in your mind while you stare at the dark ceiling. Oh, how much he cared for you this whole pregnancy, slaughtering demons in record time only to return to his wife a couple hours later. He did what he could, always stayed by your side and made sure everything went fine.
Until he had to leave. The contractions started early that evening, subtle at first, but now they come in waves that steal your breath and make you clutch at the sheets of the futon beneath you.
"Sanemi..." you whisper his name into the empty room, knowing he isn’t there to hear it.
Your husband is out there, fighting with everything he has, determined to bring an end to the nightmare that claimed so many lives already. He promised you that he’ll return, that he’ll come back to you and the children you carry.
“I’m here with you, Lady Shinazugawa. Breathe with me.”
But those promises feel fragile in the face of such overwhelming danger. Your midwife grabs your hand gently, her warm eyes desperately trying to comfort you.
Another contraction hits, this one stronger than the last. You bite down on your lip to stifle a cry, not wanting to alarm the Kakushi who are stationed outside the door. They are truly kind, offering their assistance constantly, but you sent them away with a forced smile and a shake of your head. You want to do this alone with your midwife, to bring your children into the world in the quiet peace of your home rather than in the chaos of battle.
But peace is a passing thing tonight.
You close your eyes and focus on your breathing, the way Sanemi had taught you during those brief, stolen moments of calm, like the midwife has shown him multiple times. He has always been so strong, so determined, and it is that strength you hold onto now. You imagine him beside you, his hand clasping yours, his voice a soothing balm against the pain.
“You can do it, darling. Just think about your breathing, concentrate on my voice. Let’s do this together.”
But as the hours wear on and the contractions grow closer together, you know you can’t do this without him. The pain is becoming unbearable, and your body betrays you, muscles tensing and convulsing as the babies make their way into the world.
A knock at the door breaks through your fog of pain, and a Kakushi enters, his face pale with concern.
“Lady Shinazugawa, please, let us help you. We’ve sent for Lady Kocho’s Tsugoko - she’ll be here soon.”
“I’m truly sorry Lady Shinazugawa, but a doctor is unavoidable at this rate”, the midwife adds while wiping away your blood that covers her hands entirely.
You want to protest, to insist that you can handle this on your own, but the words die on your lips as another contraction takes hold. The Kakushi rushes to your other side, his hands trembling as he helps you lie back against the futon together with your midwife.
“Just breathe,” the midwife murmurs, her voice barely more than a whisper.
“You’re doing so well. They’ll be here soon.”
You nod, biting back the tears that threaten to spill over. You never felt so alone, so vulnerable, and yet you know you have to be strong—for your children and for your husband who risks his life in battle at this very moment for you.
Time seems to stretch and contract in strange ways, and you lose track of how long you labor, each contraction blurring into the next. The room is spinning, the pain almost too much to bear. Just before your eyes threaten to flutter shut, the door bursts open and reveals Aoi.  
She immediately takes charge, her hands steady as she examines you.
“You’re doing wonderfully. It won’t be long now” she says with unusual gentle voice.
You can only nod, too exhausted to speak. The pain is relentless, a constant wave crashing over you, but there is a flicker of hope now, a sense that the end might be in sight.
“Sanemi…” you whisper again, your heart aching for him.
You want him here so bad, want him to see the birth of your children, to hold them and know that they are safe.
But as another contraction grips you, you know that wish is impossible. Sanemi is out there, fighting for his life, and you have to trust that he will return to you as soon as everything’s over.
“Hold on. The first baby is almost here. Just one more push”, Aoi’s voice cuts through the haze.
You gather every ounce of strength you have left, every bit of resolution you can collect, and with a cry that echoes through the room, you push.
And push.
And push.
The sound of a newborn’s wail fills the air, and for a moment, everything else fades away. Aoi holds up the tiny, squirming form, her eyes shining with pride.
“It’s a boy,” she announces with a warm smile and tears glistening in her eyes.
“Shinobu-san will be so proud of you.”
Tears spill over your cheeks as she places the baby in your arms. He’s so small, so perfect, with a shock of dark hair and eyes that blink up at you, unfocused but curious. You hold him close, your heart swelling with love.
But there is no time to linger. The next contraction hits you with full force, and you know the second baby is on the way. Aoi takes the firstborn from your arms, handing him to the Kakushi who remained by your side, and then she was there again, guiding you through the next birth.
The second child comes more quickly, and soon you are holding another tiny life in your arms - a girl this time, with her father’s fierce eyes and a shock of white hair that makes you laugh through your tears. You and your husband always wondered about how your children will look like.
“You really want them to have my hair? Hell no, I don’t want my kids to look like they’re 80 right from the start.”
And still, there is one more.
By the time the third baby arrives, you are beyond exhaustion, barely able to keep your eyes open. But you force yourself to stay awake, to see your third child. Another boy with a face so like Sanemi’s that it takes your breath away.
You hold all three of them close, your heart so full it feels like it might burst. They are perfect, each one of them, and despite the pain and the fear, you know it had all been worth it.
But even as you hold your children, a part of you remains stuck to the battlefield, to the man who risks everything to protect you and them. You pray that he’ll return, that he’ll survive this night and comes home to you.
Hours passed in a blur of exhaustion and overwhelming love. The Kakushi and midwife tend to the babies, cleaning them and wrapping them in soft blankets while Aoi ensured that you were stable until she was forced to leave as well. Everything seems peaceful – too peaceful.
But as the first light of dawn creeps through the windows, a new tension fills the air. The Kakushi who remained by your side was called away as well, his face pale as he listened to hurried whispers at the door. Your heart clenches with fear, knowing that whatever news arrived can’t be good at all.
“Do you…”, you begin, your voice trembling with worry as you try to talk to your stressed midwife.
But before she can answer, the door slams open and your heart leaps into your throat.
There he stands, his haori torn and bloodied, his eyes wild as they search the room. Can it really be him? Is it really possible that he…returned? In the matter of second, your tired eyes fill with tears, take in his sight. It really is him. He really made his way back to you.
“Sanemi!” you cry, relief flooding through you.
In an instant, he is at your side, his hands reaching for you as if to reassure himself that you are really there.
“Are you alright? Are you hurt?”, his rough voice mutters, strained with worry.
“I’m fine. I-…I’m fine,” you breathe out, your eyes overflowing with tears while taking in the sight of him.
He looks exhausted, battered from the battle, but he’s alive.
Your husband is alive.
“I’m fine, Sanemi. And so are they.”
His eyes follow yours to the three tiny bundles in your arms, and for a moment, he simply stares as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Then, slowly, he reaches out, his hand trembling as he touches the soft cheek of the nearest baby.
“They’re… ours?” he asks, his voice barely more than a whisper.
You nod, smiling through your tears.
“Two boys and a girl. They’re perfect, Sanemi.”
His breath hitches and you catch a glimpse at the glimmer of tears in his eyes when he gently takes the baby from your arms, cradling him as if he is the most precious thing in the world.
“They’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.
“Just like their mum.”
You watch as he carefully holds each of your children, his eyes softening with a tenderness you’ve rarely seen. This is a side of Sanemi that few ever caught, a side that is all yours.
“They’re strong,” you add, your voice soft as you watched him with your daughter.
“Just like their father.”
He shakes his head, a rough laugh escaping him.
“No, they’re strong like their mother.”
You reach out, taking his hand in yours, needing to feel the solid warmth of him, to know that he’s really here.
“You came back to us,” you whisper, the fear that had gripped you all night finally releasing its hold.
He looks at you with his intense but somehow empty gaze.
“Hell, yeah, I promised you I would, didn’t I?”
You nod, a smile breaking through the tears.
“Yes, you did.”
Sanemi leans down, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead, then to each of the babies’ heads, his expression softening with each touch.
“I’ll always come back to you,” he vows, his voice a low, fierce whisper.
“No matter what fucking demon wants to kill me. But it’s over now, darling. It’s finally over.”
You believe him, with every fiber of your being. The battle is over, and you all survived. Your family is whole, and that is all that mattered.
“What about the others, are they alright-“
“No. Let’s talk about that another time. Right now, I just want to stay here like this for a while”, he interrupts you.
As the first rays of sunlight stream into the room, you lean into Sanemi’s embrace, your heart full to bursting with love for the man who chose you as his wife back then.
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Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld
@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake
@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345
@komelrebi-san @kentocalls @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp
@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine @vrystalius @sanemifucker @blunderland
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suguru-getos · 5 months ago
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thoughts on yan!sukuna truly breaking reader like in yan!gojosugu except shes just lifeless not wanting to die just soulless...?
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Warnings: It’s Sukuna I feel like his name itself is a warning LMFAOO 😭 Sukuna killin’ people- some sexual themes, belittling, gory themes. Idk what else to add, he’s just an asshole but if you squint really hard and become delulu you’ll find him almost caring. 😼✋✨
The crimson, bloodied, grotesque sight in front of her was enough to cease any palpitations & cries for help. She knew, there was no one coming to help her. Not when the King of Curses had taken her under his wing. Her pupils have dilated in fear, goosebumps rising as her instincts clasp at her very bones. Run, run, run… these words scream out of her inner psyche when her eyes glaze over the massacre.
One of the people among them, leg butchered & bleeding to death she’s sure, crawls over to her form. She’s against the corner, feet curled up against her knees. “Please— please— help me.” The injured man groans in gut-wrenching pain. The monster who has taken control of her holds him by the legs and rips him in half in front of her. She doesn’t even flinch. “That makes it last.” Sukuna’s unforgiving voice echoes. Of course, she was punished for running away to ‘her’ people. Sukuna is going to make sure there are no more people to run to.
Her heart aches, somehow she feels with the entirety of her being, that she’s responsible for the entire village’s annihilation. A soft parting of her lips, followed by a tremble echoes. “Yes. Last one.”
The way she doesn’t cower anymore, acceptance… she’s accepted her life to be living hell. “That’s all that comes out of your mouth? Useless Mutt.” Sukuna snarls, at least he felt amused with her cowering & her squealing like a scared puppy.
“Sorry, Sukuna Sama. Won’t run again.” She has a deep gash on her forearm when Sukuna flicked his fingers in air, sheer annoyance of her disobedience and his technique didn’t lay any mercy. She has healed from that, but the gash still looks dreadful. That was the time Sukuna truly realised that a single human without powers is a nuisance. You can’t even teach them a lesson properly or their poor heart will give out & they die. Pathetic. It makes no sense how someone so frail, weak, delicate is so fucking beautiful.
Standing in front of her was an eight feet tall, monster with four arms. Calcified eyes, and a mouth on his belly. The mouth on his belly frowned, unhappy with the non-dramatic & non-theatrical reaction. “You have nowhere to run to now, Kozõ.” Sukuna reminds, a sinister smile spreading across his features.
“Yes, you have established that, my Lord.” She sighs, not even tears could wash away the sediments of her anxiety anymore. “I should get up, the blood is really making me queasy.” She nods, looking up at him. Small and insignificant in front of the most powerful being in the universe.
Uraume comes in, bowing in front of Sukuna and her. “Greetings, Sukuna sama. Greetings, Y/N san.” They have been ever so supportive, mainly because their lord is glad by it. Even though he doesn’t show it. They understand it, how Sukuna behaves a little more happy when she is happy. “Let me help you with the shower.”
-
The shower is extravagant. It’s as if Sukuna laments for his actions with elaborate rituals like these. There are Epsom bath salts which help for the ache, dried lavender petals and candles around the tub. It would be her safe haven if she had been living a normal life. Unfortunately, this does not help. Not when its her heart that’s aching. Bath salts wouldn’t soothe it.
“You shouldn’t have run away.” Uraume hums, trying to break the suffocating silence. “I know.” She hums, watching how they help exfoliate the grime and the dirt. “Those people… they angered him. They tried to give you refugee.” Uraume adds, pouring some water over her hair. Her eyes close, she forces herself to be mindful. To be present in the moment.
“I know.” She carefully responds the well rehearsed response. Uraume scares her too, they could do may as well anything for Sukuna sama after all.
“A tip…” Uraume mumbles, unsure if the candidness they will present her with would have an appropriate response… “Please don’t create a scene at dinner.”
“Okay.” She nods, unsure at the sudden behavior. It’s not that behaving appropriately would get Sukuna to calm down. She knows Sukuna’s rage knows no bounds and is still simmering. “Either way, it’s not like you’ll suffer because of my shortcomings.” She emphasizes. That bit is partially true… sometimes when Sukuna feels the insurmountable frustration run through the very marrow of his bones… he uses Uraume for it. A limb short from them won’t harm him.
-
The dinner is served on gold plated utensils & plates. The chandelier made with crystals rising up & littering the big hall room with glow. Sukuna has taken over the rich Zen’in estate after coming to power. That’s how he grasped her anyway. Just his silly little human he didn’t want to kill so soon.
There is silence, throughout the table. The small tinkering of spoon against the bowl for eating, from her and her alone is the only sound that is heard. “Had a shower so you don’t reek of betrayal?” Sukuna’s tone is icy, he is still not happy with it. A visible gulp happens from her throat, swallowing all the fear to answer prim & properly. “I just wanted to go out-“
The next moment, the table breaks into two, her bowl breaks, the hot & bubbling chicken soup splayed across the floor, some of it falling on her thighs as she hisses. “Uraume, think she needs another shower.” Sukuna hums, getting away and leaving. Sigh. A life where she isn’t breathing sounds better. She’s whimpering softly in pain, sure to get a second degree burn. Reflexes make her stand up, haphazardly dancing on her silly two feet to prevent the ache.
Sukuna rolls his eyes, frail, disgustingly frail.
-
The next few days are a series of mundane routines & fight or flights. She wakes up, Uraume gets her breakfast, she scurries around the entire estate, reads, pretends she doesn’t remember what Sukuna did to the people who tried to help her. Fails. Trail of thoughts losing and bringing her right back to the sinking feeling in her tummy. Sukuna ripping the begging man in half was… not something she could erase from her memory.
Dinners with Sukuna, lunch with Sukuna. Sleeping with Sukuna. Naked. Sukuna doesn’t care about the word privacy, she is his human toy after all. He feeds her well, for what? Hiding her curves & her body? Sometimes she is able to sleep, curling up in a fetal position as Sukuna’s hard cock nestles between her ass cheeks. Sometimes she is forced to warm his cock to bed. The sheer girth of his cock alone is enough to make her cry at the burn. Pathetic body still getting wet at the administrations. Truly a toy, malleable to her master’s every wish and demand.
Today seems different, she enters the bedroom, watching Sukuna’s annoyed & predatory gaze lingering over. She knows what to do next, ridding herself off the robes and watching him. Predatory, his gaze has never been gentle since they met. “Crawl to me.” Sukuna hums, watching her shudder at the demand. Getting on her hands & knees, naked, she crawls up to him and looks up, a soft pout littered across her lips. Her anxiety has been especially unnerving today. Give up, her body screams to give up. “Your body is the only thing that’s getting you to live those extra breaths, you know?” Sukuna smirks, holding her up and making her settle on the bed. She nods, tears brimming across her cheeks. She cries again, weak sniffles erupting from her. To Sukuna, he finds it amusing. How her breasts jiggle a little with every sniffle and every tense of her shoulder. A small part of him wanting her to stop crying which he would never admit to himself.
“Maybe I will use those tears as lube for your cunt.” Sukuna hums, chuckling. He’s only joking. His observance has told him enough about how his human is doing. Something he would hate to admit, perturbed him. Maybe killing everyone in front of her was not such a good decision.
She has no resistance to Sukuna’s words, he could say whatever & do whatever. She doesn’t doubt the extent this demon could go pure amusement.
In Sukuna’s head, he’s caught in a weird dilemma. In his head, he thinks eventually, this will yield positive results. There would be a time when she would be done with this behavior of hers & accept him for who he is. He has improved— he hasn’t slept with another toy- woman. He hasn’t eaten human meat in front of her. These are things he has deliberately done just to make the estate look a little less haunting, feel a little less prickly…
“Can you please kill me, my Lord?” She begs, and that catches Sukuna off guard. Brows furrowed and jaw tense at the demand. She was always self-preserving… always. This new flavour of her peronality, he isn’t sure he could stomach it. Sukuna has intense control over his facial features, but the mouth in his stomach has a frown.
“Why? Didn’t I tell you, I decide who to kill?” He snarls, gritting his teeth and hand holding her throat. A threat, a simple threat that is supposed to make her realize that her words could have consequences. She just meets Sukuna’s gaze, broken beyond repair.
“Can’t do this ‘nymore.” She mumbled, lip quivering like a child who’s favorite candy’s been yanked off of their hands.
“Getting fucked? You can’t handle getting fucked?” Sukuna’s eye twitches in annoyance, he hasn’t been the worst of himself. He’s fully capable of ripping her womb apart just with the power of his thrusts. This is what he gets? Humans… seriously…
“Everything.” She communicates. “Sorry, Sukuna sama. Can’t really do this anymore.” She mumbles, tears reaching her jaw and coursing through the valley of her breasts. Sukuna’s belly mouth is quick to lap it up, a delirious expression over his face.
“Too bad, we’re going to make sure you can do this till the day you die.” Sukuna is pathetically upset. It’s the rejection… the way she would rather die than take the King of Curses? What a joke…
“Go to bed.” He hums, dismissing her and his hand shoving her to fall against the mattress. A weak whimper of hurt escapes her. Another reminder for Sukuna about just how delicate she is…
Sukuna Ryomen, the King of Curses, the most powerful being in the world, the most dangerous & sinister entity to ever walk this earth, was pouting, was overthinking about how his silly human pet can feel better…
While his silly human pet was losing her mind, crying through the whole night laying next to him. Every sniffle, every jolt of her body, everything feels annoying. Can she stop?
“If you hadn’t run away.” Sukuna continues, voice grim & unforgiving. He hates having to remember her actions. “Those people would be breathing.”
“Yes, my Lord.” Oh damn it! All he means is for you to not run away. “It’s not terrible for you, I’m sure you’re aware.” He adds on, leaning against the headboard.
“Thank you, my Lord.”
Rehearsed, timid, scared…
“What would you rather do if you were free?” Sukuna asks; not one to converse but hey — he wants to know.
That’s when she sinks, there is nothing that she wants to do. “There are some things I wouldn’t do, for example… this.” She signs at her naked body, and Sukuna rolls his eyes. What a pesky, and brave woman. Immediately telling him that she doesn’t want to be around him bare.
“Then let’s start there, if you don’t act grateful about it, then I will take it away from you.” Sukuna declares, watching the light in her eyes flicker just enough to bring a smirk to his face.
“Yes, my Lord.”
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sourcherryandsprinkles · 6 months ago
Note
Lucerys' funerals and Jace saying he'd ratehr die himself than lose another of his brothers and being heartbroken and you comforting/being there for him
Although Jacaerys looks really good in his new clothes, I'm not ready for this scene. It will most likely happen in episode 1. I tried to minimize the sadness, but be prepared for tears
Warnings: graphic details/mention of Lucerys' death,
my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time
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Three days after Lucerys left to deliver a message on Storm’s End, dreadful news reached Rhaenyra: her son was dead. A raven from Lord Borros reported that a fisherman had discovered Lucerys’ head and neck washed up beneath the cliffs of Storm's End. 
First, her father and her stillborn daughter. Then, her crown. And now her teenage son, her sweet boy Lucerys. Rhaenyra had known loss in her life, but how much grief and pain could one person bear before they’re inconsolable?
The cause of Lucerys’ death was a mystery, but Daemon vowed to uncover the truth. Although he wasn’t his son by blood, he cared about the boy. The storm alone could not have decapitated him, no matter how fierce.
The young prince’s remains were brought to Dragonstone, but Rhaenyra needed more. Determined and heartbroken, she flew on Syrax’s back, searching for ten days for any remains of Lucerys — or Arrax. If the storm caused them to crash, there should be more evidence, right? Yet, the Queen found nothing.
During these ten days, Jacaerys returned from the North with promising news about the Vale and Winterfell. He entered the quiet castle with a smile on his face, impatient to tell his mother about her new allies, but it washed away when you told him about his little brother.
Jacaerys' stomach churned, refusing to believe the words. Lucerys couldn't be dead. He saw him a few days ago, they were sparring on the beach.
‘’No… That’s not true,’’ he denied, shaking his head. 
‘’They found parts of his body, I…I’m sorry, Jace. Luke is dead.’’ 
Jacaerys stood still for a moment, his face pale and expressionless as the reality of your words began to sink in. He was rarely ever struck, but losing a brother felt like a part of him was being ripped away. You watched as he brought a hand over his heart, filled with a deep, aching pain. His face contorted and his eyes welled up with tears. 
Seeing him break was rare, and it tore at your heart. 
He clenched his jaw, trying to hold back the tears, and looked at you, his eyes filled with despair. ‘’How did it happen?’’ he whispered, his voice barely audible.
The King’s passing had been a significant loss for the Seven Kingdoms, but Jacaerys was never close to his grandsire. He had seen him occasionally in King’s Landing and at the occasional dinner, but the King had been very ill. His death had been inevitable. 
Lucerys, however, was young and healthy, with his whole life ahead of him.
A tear slipped down Jacaerys’ face. He never thought he would have to live a life without his brother.
You shook your head, wishing you had answers. ‘’We don’t know. Daemon is looking for answers.’’
The day of the funeral, Dragonstone was silent, grieving the loss of the young prince. 
Your stomach was tied in a knot as you dressed yourself. A maid came to your door, asking if you wanted her help this morning, but you politely declined. Today was going to be emotional and you wanted to get ready in privacy.
When you finished clasping your necklace, you glanced at Jacaerys and noticed he was struggling. He couldn’t get his hands to stop shaking, making it impossible to fasten his brooch right. He made a noise of frustration and you walked over to him. 
‘’Let me help.’’ you said softly, securing the brooch to his cloak and doublet, and smoothing his collar.
He thanked you with the smallest smile, grateful to have you in his life — especially in dark times. He couldn’t have found a better person to call his wife. 
‘’Have you gotten the clothes from Luke’s chamber?’’ you asked.  
Jacaerys let out a heavy breath. ‘’Y-yeah. They’re over there, on the bed.’’ 
It was his idea to take some of Lucerys’ clothes to burn with what was found of his body. It looked less disturbing than a single head in the middle of the funeral pyre.  
‘’I knew there would be deaths during the war — it’s inevitable —, but I didn’t think Luke would be the first to go. I should have taught him how to navigate a dragon during a storm…’’
You cupped his face between your hands, making him look at you. ‘’Don’t go there,’’ you said firmly, holding his teary eyes. ‘’What happened was not your fault, Jace.’’ 
Jacaerys closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. ‘’I know,’’ he whispered, his voice breaking. ‘’A part of me cannot help but feel some guilt. Luke was always scared of flying, of not being able to control his dragon. And now— now he’s dead.’’ 
You pressed your forehead against his, holding back your own tears. You tried to think of something to say, but no words would alleviate the pain. 
‘’I would rather die than lose another of my brothers.’’
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bunnywritesjunk · 1 year ago
Text
My King
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Series summary: Your parents signed you up for an Alpha Omega Match company when you were eighteen. It took years for them to find your match, but you meet the giant austrian man. Will he be a good partner?
Chapter summary: You get a call from your mother regarding your match. You are nervous to meet them, but they turn out to be a pleasant surprise.
Pairing: König x Fem Reader
Warnings: A/B/O dynamics (Never use this abbreviation without the slashes it is an indigenous slur) 18+ MDNI (no others for this chapter)
Word count: 4.1k (damn thats a lot for me)
Genre: Mostly Fluff a little angst here and there.
A/n: Yo Yo Yo whatup. New fic dropping. This one is black/poc coded but anyone can read. I haven't seen any poc coded cod fics just yet (if you know any send them my way). If you do not like Omegaverse fics please do not read. Also I tried making a cute little mood board, i think it sucks but I tried my best. Konig art credit. (I couldn't find the art credit for the girl). König and reader are neurospicy. I got inspired to do an Apex Alpha König from @ghostlythunderbird go give them some love please. Also this is kinda what I imagine him looking like.
Next Chapter
Chapter One:
His back ached as he climbed the few steps to his door. The passage back to his home was uncomfortable. All König wanted to do with collapse on his bed. The duplex he resided in was decent, the little old woman who rented it to him was very sweet. König had a hard time getting anyone to rent to him. His status as an Apex alpha was concerning for most people. They believed him to be violent and inconsiderate. His landlord is an omega that lives with her alpha mate. König managed to convince her. She thought he was sweet and kind. He opened the foyer door that lead to both apartments. He glanced at the mailbox, wondering if he should wait until morning. Begrudgingly, he took out the small mailbox key and fiddled the metal box open. He grabbed the plethora of mail and closed the box gently. The box was filled up quite a bit as he had not been home in a couple of weeks. 
Heading up the stairs he filed through the mail. Most were junk coupons and magazines, some were credit card sign-up letters. One envelope caught his eye. It had no company name just a large white manila envelope addressed to him. He opened his door and stepped inside placing the mail and his belongings on his couch. He ripped open the envelope and took out a thin book. It had the circular logo of the AOMO, the Alpha Omega Match organization. 
König started at the cover his heartbeat sped up the longer he thought about it. He signed up for the program after a particularly hard mission he had in KorTac. He left and joined the 141 and decided he wanted an omega. A lot of the men in the 141 had partners they could come home to. König wanted that. Most people were too afraid to be in a committed relationship with him. König often settled for one-night stands with betas but it left him feeling empty. He opened the packet to the first page.
'Congratulations!' The first word read. His heart beat harder the more he read. 
'We have found you a match!' König's heart felt like it was going to pound out of his chest. 
'In the plastic wrap, we've provided a fresh scent sample from your potential match. If you like the scent of your match, please send us a scent sample from you as soon as possible.' 
König gripped the packet and leaned over the table, putting his weight on the table. He took a deep breath, he felt a mix of fear and excitement. When he signed up he was not hopeful for a match. He assumed his situation was too complicated for them. He flipped through the packet before reading the rest searching for the scent sample. A plastic bag fell out onto the table. It was sealed and had a verification sticker assuring its authenticity. König picked up the bag carefully. It had a square of white fabric inside it. He took his hood off before opening the bag gingerly. The scent instantly made his knees weak. This Omega had a warm and spicy scent. Coconut and sugary vanilla with hints of sandalwood. König stuffed his nose into the bag inhaling the deep rich smell of this Omega. 
König sealed the scent sample wanting to savor it. He opened the packet back up to the first page. It said once he mailed his scent sample and was approved by his match, they would arrange a meeting with him and his match. There was more information about this Omega and their family along with the reasoning for them picking them. They informed him that this omega was a twenty-six-year-old female. Her father is also an Apex Alpha, he is retired American military. They did not provide a picture of any matches because they wanted the connection to be based on instinct rather than looks. Her mother is an Omega that works as a teacher. There is not much else about the Omega but, König is hopeful. He reads the instructions to send his scent sample. They provided a kit with a form envelope, a small square of fabric, and a plastic bag, almost identical to the one he received from his match. 
'Wash your hands, and rinse any dirt off of your scent glands.'
'Then remove the fabric from the plastic.'
'Rub the fabric on your clean scent glands for 20-25 minutes.'
'Seal the fabric thoroughly in the bag provided .'
He shed his vest and protective gear, the last thing he wanted was for her to smell dust and gunpowder on him. König tried to quell his excitement as he followed the directions. Rushing to his bathroom and then back to his dining room. The fabric square was slightly smaller than his palm. He cupped the crook of his neck, sandwiching the fabric between his hand and his neck. He rubbed gently filling it with his scent. He read the rest of the packet as he rubbed. The rest was mostly semantics about the company and its policies. He combed it a few more times trying to memorize every piece of information about his Omega. 
König smiled gently, he shouldn't think of her as his yet. She smelled so good, too good for him. He smelled the cloth every once in a while to ensure his scent was potent enough. When he was done he placed it in the bag and sealed it. He filled out the form and packed the pre-paid envelope neatly. He grabbed his keys and left his apartment to go to the mail drop-off on the corner of the block. He needed to send it today, he wouldn't be able to sleep if he didn't. He walked back to his apartment having long forgotten about his back pain. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You looked at the list on your phone pushing your shopping cart. Buying the week's groceries had fallen to you this time as your mother was dealing with state testing for her students and your dad was on a hunting trip. You maneuvered the isles expertly collecting the items on your list. As well as some extra sweet snacks you like to indulge in much to our mother's chagrin. You were about to put a pack of Oreos in the cart when your mom called.
“Hello?” You answered but all you can hear was excited screeching. You held the phone away from your ear until she quieted down. 
“He accepted you!!!” She screamed. 
“What? Mom, you're too loud.” 
“The match company! The match they picked liked your scent.” She giggled. 
You were slightly stunned. Your parents signed you up for the AOMO when you were eighteen. You weren't that on board with it but you let them. You know they only want the best for you. You kept sending scent samples every year but they never got back to you about anything. Now, six years later they show up with a match for you. 
“I just got the call, they're sending a scent sample for you right now it's gonna get here in a few days.” 
“Wow...” That was all you managed to say. 
“Now I know this wasn't your ideal way to meet someone, but just please be open-minded sweetheart.” 
You sighed. “I will. I'm finishing up at the grocery and I'll head home.”
“Alright, I'm gonna be home soon too, bye sweetie.” 
You hung up the phone and stood in the aisle. You placed the pack of Oreos in the cart and moved to get the rest of the items before checking out. 
When you arrived home your mother was there waiting. She squealed and hugged you before helping you take the grocery bags inside. 
“I am so excited for you! I have heard so many good things about the AOMO. I bet whoever they picked is gonna be great.”
“Let's hope.” You say. 
The next few days went by quickly. You dove into writing your next few chapters to take your mind off of the match. The sequel to your best-selling fantasy novel was underway. Your days consisted of writing, planning, engaging with fans, and talking to your editor. You typed out the outline for the next few chapters when you heard a knock. 
“Come in.” You said. 
Your mother walked in holding a large envelope. “Guess what came today?” She said excitedly. 
 Your heart thumped with anxiety. She placed the envelope on your desk.
“I’ll leave you to it, let me know if you like them.” She sauntered out of the room happily. 
You picked up the envelope and opened it pulling out a packet of information. You flipped to the first page. 
‘Congratulations!’ It read. 
‘The match we have chosen for you wants to meet you. Once you contact us with your acceptance of their scent, we will arrange for them to meet you and your family with the chaperone of one AOMO agents to facilitate. The two of you will go on a date and get to know each other before deciding whether to move forward. If you do not accept the scent, we will put you back in our database to be matched with someone else.’ 
In the middle of the pages, there was a plastic bag with a white cloth in it. You picked it up and sighed. You doubted you would like the scent. Most alphas were off-putting to you, either way too strong of a scent of they smelled like dishwater. You opened the bag casually and took a whiff. Your inner Omega preened at the musk that erupted from the bag. 
“Oh my…” You inhaled deeply. 
This Alpha…smelled good? He smelled like chocolate and dark roast espresso. There were some hints of fresh baked bread and cinnamon. You caught yourself before you got lost in his scent. You sealed the bag up and took a breath. Maybe, this would be a good experience for you. You scanned through the rest of the information looking over what little they provide about this Alpha. He is a male Alpha, non-American but they did not specify what country. The only other thing they said about him was that his demeanor was shy and that he is military. The instructions said to call the number if you wanted to meet him. You reached for your phone a little too eagerly and dialed the number. A woman’s voice answered.
“Hi, you’ve reached the Alpha Omega Match organization how may I help you?”
“Hi, um I got an Alpha’s scent in the mail, and I want to meet him.” You said awkwardly.
“What’s your name and date of birth?” You told her, nervously. 
“Please hold while I transfer you.” 
The light piano hold music came on, you fidgeted with your sleeve. 
“This is Kara, how may I help you?”
“Oh hi, I got an Alpha’s scent in the mail and I would like to meet him.”
“Alright, let me get your file from reception she’s sending it right now…Ah got it. Oooh ok great I am your agent that will be facilitating this meeting. Your parents will want to meet him yes?”
“Definitely.”
“Ok so, what we will do is you and your parents will meet me at a public space of your choice then. I will bring you to meet the Alpha first, then your parents. We like to keep parent meetings brief as they tend to try and challenge the Alpha. I will have you know, this Alpha is an Apex like your dad. That is one of the reasons we chose you as his match, you have experience with an Apex. Will you be comfortable with all that?”
“Yeah, that’s fine.” Your head was reeling from all this information. Great, I see you guys are in New York City which is one of my favorite places to visit. Do you have anywhere in mind to meet?” 
“Um, we could do the Highline, there’s food, and it's pretty.” 
“Oh, that’s a great idea let me write it down here. How does September ninth at noon sound to you? A weekday so there are not too many people.” 
Your heart jumped, that’s in two days.
“Uh, sure.” 
“Alright, I will send you a follow-up email regarding our plans all you need to do is confirm. Your match will be notified, and his flight will be booked as soon as we receive confirmation. Do you have any other questions?” 
“No not at the moment.” 
“Ok, don’t hesitate to reach out if you have any concerns. I will see you in a few days.” 
“Bye.” 
You put your phone on your desk and walked out of your room. Your mother was standing a few feet away from your door. When she noticed you, her face lit up.
“So? How was the scent? Are you meeting them?” 
You smiled and nodded “Yup, in two days.” 
She squealed and captured you in a bone-crushing hug.
“I can’t wait! Let’s go tell your father!” She practically ran down the hall. 
You walked to your living room where your otherwise stoic-looking dad was watching TV. 
“Tell us about them, sweetheart.” Your mother said. Your dad turned the volume on the TV down and looked at you expectantly.
“Well, I don’t know much but, I know he’s not American and that he might be shy…He smells good.” 
“That’s important, I hope you wouldn’t pick someone who smells like shit.” Your dad chimed in. 
“He’s also military, and an Apex.” You added quickly. 
Your mother gasped quietly, and your father raised his eyebrows.
“Now that’s intriguing.” Your mom said smiling.
“You already booked a meeting with him?” Your dad asked. You nodded. 
“You should’ve asked me first.” He pinched his nose bridge in annoyance. 
“Well, he’s my match and I wanted to meet him.”
“Apex Alphas are dangerous. I would know.”
“Oh, please honey it’ll be fine.” Your mother ridiculed him.
“It’s my choice, Dad. You guys are the ones who signed up, I finally got a match, so I want to see it through. If it doesn’t work out, then I’ll call it off.”
Your father growled lowly. “Fine.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Your mother insisted to dress you in a cutesy outfit, so you let her have her moment. She dressed you in a dark floral dress that hugged your curves just right. She added dainty jewelry along with your protective collar. You didn’t usually wear it but again, she insisted. She did your hair half up half down. Your dad was waiting by the front door with your mom’s purse in hand. 
The train ride there was silent, your mother looked utterly content while your father was peeved about this whole situation. You arrived at the station and walked to the Highline. You got a text from Kara telling you what she looked like and where she was. She was wearing a dark blue pencil skirt and a white blouse. She stood up as you and your family approached. You stuck your hand out to shake hers.
“Nice to meet you guys, come sit.” She said motioning to the bench she was on. 
Your father stayed standing while you and your mother took a seat next to her. 
“So, there are some things I want to go over with you all and then I’ll talk to you privately and do the official meeting ok?”
“He’s here?” You said in an almost panicked tone.
Kara chuckled. “He is here but I left him to wait somewhere out of sight for now.”
She continued. “His name is König, he was born in Austria. When we did his psyche and personality evaluations, we found that he has neurodivergent tendencies, like you. Our matches with people that have a similar way of communicating have gone well.”
“Wait, neurodivergent?” Your mom chimed in. 
“Yes, your daughter did show signs of some behavioral abnormalities, but she is high functioning.”
“I told you that Mom.” You say giving her a deadpan look. Your mother looked down and gave a small ‘hmm’. Kara continued. 
“He does struggle with social anxiety so please be patient with him. Other than that, he currently lives in Amsterdam, if you choose to go forward that is where you will live.”
Your dad finally spoke “Is Amsterdam safe for people like us?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. 
“Oh yes, Amsterdam has many people from different places and backgrounds. It is one of the most popular immigration and tourist countries, don’t worry.”
“Alright, how about you come with me, and we’ll get your meeting started.”
Kara led you away, you turned and did a small wave to your parents your mom smiled back at you warmly. 
“So, I will be in contact with you the whole time. If you want to go just say the word, I am never going to be more than a couple minutes away. Honestly, I don’t think you’ll have any issues with him.” 
She led you to a restaurant below the high line, it had indoor and outdoor seating. There were a lot of people laughing and drinking. Your heartbeat sped up as you scanned the crowd. The scent of food entered your nose. Everyone’s scent in the dining area mixed into an indescribable concoction. Among the borderline overwhelming smells, you got a hint of something familiar, espresso. 
You scanned the large room trying to pinpoint where it was coming from or if you were just imagining it. I dark figure near the corner of the room caught your eye. He looked way too large for the chair he was sitting in. He was looking down at his hands, dirty blonde hair covered his forehead. He was wearing a black cloth mask along with a form-fitting black shirt. As soon as you walked in he raised his head. You looked away pretending you weren't staring at him. Kara led you straight to his table.
“This is König.” She gestured to him. 
He stood up to shake your hand still keeping himself hunched at the waist to appear smaller. You shook his hand and smiled as you introduced yourself. He nodded and said a small 'hmm' to acknowledge you. 
“Alright, I'll be near. Have fun.” Kara left swiftly.
You sat down in the chair across from him as he did the same. A wave of anxiety came as you did, not knowing how to break the ice with him. You picked up the menu and scanned it.
“Did you order yet?” You ask.
“No, I was waiting for you.”
“Well thank you, what looks good?” 
“The Steak frites look pretty good.” He glued his menu.
“I'm excited for dessert, they have chocolate cheesecake.”
He chuckled and it made your stomach flip.
“You like sweets?” He asked.
“Very much.” You smile at him. 
The waitress came over and asked if you wanted any drinks. König looked at you, waiting for you to order first. 
“I'll try the elderberry gin and tonic.” You said.
 Konig was about to order when the table next to us erupted in loud laughter. He jumped slightly before answering the waitress. 
“I'll get the house Lager.” He said. 
The waitress left to grab the drinks. The adjacent table was still very loud. The group of friends hollering and screaming obviously day drunk. Konig had his head slightly turned away from them in an attempt to lessen the noise. It was subtle but you could tell. You reached into your bag and brought out a pair of foldable headphones. You turned on the noise cancellation and gave them to him. He looked slightly confused. 
“Put them on.” You encourage him. 
When he did the noise muffled and the restaurant was much quieter. You could see the tension in his shoulders ease by the second. His scent sweetened
“Is that better? Can you hear me ok?” 
König swears he could've kissed you right then and there, but he settles on a nod. 
“Thank you, Leibe.” 
“No problem.”
The waitress came by with the drinks and asked if the two of you are ready to order entrees. You ordered the fish and König ordered the Steak. While you waited, you two had a pleasant small talk about his flight and how he is enjoying his visit. He hesitated to take off his mask at first so you focused on your menu to give him the space to be comfortable with you. You glanced up and took in his face. He was beautiful, he had scars on his face that added ruggedness to his chiseled features. König noticed your scent amplify as you gazed at him. His inner alpha pushed him to be closer, to know more about you.
“So, you're in the military?” 
He nods. “I work for a military contractor. Do you work?”
“Sort of, I'm an author so I work from home.”
“That is nice, are you published?” König was secretly very happy he'd get to have you at home all day. 
“Yes, I am. I'm working on my sequel right now. Do you like to read? Or, do you read in German?” 
He chuckled. “I have not had much time to read lately, but I will now.”
“Well, you have to buy my book of course.” You giggled. 
König nearly fell off his chair at the sound. This Omega was everything he wanted. He prayed to whatever god was up there that you felt something with him. By the time the food came you both fell into a comfortable rhythm. He asked about your childhood and hobbies. It was a change of pace, most Alphas are very self-centered, but he is putting effort into getting to know you. The food came out and you both ate. He offered bites of his food for you to try which you happily returned the favor. By the time you finished your food, you hadn't noticed how much time has gone by. Kara texted you to check-in. 
'Hey, so I saw things were going well so I let you guys talk for an hour and a half but, your parents are getting antsy. Are you guys ready to see your parents?' 
“Oh, Kara is asking if we're ready to see my parents.” 
König fiddled with his fork. “I'm ready.” 
He paid the bill and you both left the restaurant. You took in the full size of the Alpha you matched with. He was no less than a giant. He held the door for you but stopped before he walked through. 
“I forgot something, I'll be back.” He walked back into the restaurant. 
Kara walked up to you. “How did it go?” 
“I...really like him...”
“I know, that feeling is scary. I think you guys are a wonderful match.”
König came out holding a small to-go box. He handed it to you, you could tell he was smiling under his mask. 
“What's this?”
Inside the box was a slice of chocolate cheesecake and a fork.
“We forgot to order dessert.” 
You were stunned, you didn't think there could be Alphas that were so thoughtful. Your inner Omega soared, this Alpha was courting you so well. 
“Thank you, König, that's really sweet.” 
“Ah, here they are.” Kara said. 
Your parents walked up to the three of you. Your mother had a surprised but happy look on her face. Your father kept his deadpan face from earlier, not a good sign. 
“Wow, sweetheart you caught a big one!” Your mom chuckled. 
“Parents, this is König.” Kara said. 
Your mother introduced herself and your father as he stood there sizing up the taller Apex. 
“Alright, let's keep things brief parents do you have any questions for König?”
“Well, as long as she likes him I don't.” Your mother said. 
“Can you protect her?” Your dad asked putting some venom behind his words. 
“I would never let anything happen to her sir. You have my word.” König answered without hesitation. 
Your dad nodded and looked at you. “You like him?”
“...Yeah I do.” 
“Alright then, that's all that matters.” 
“Well, I think it's safe to say that the match is made. I will contact you for the next steps. Parents, let's let them say goodbye.” Kara led your parents away.
You turned to König. “Thank you for meeting with me, I had a really good time.” You saw a faint blush at the top of his mask. 
“I also had a good time, liebe.” 
“What does that mean?”
“Ah...it means love.” 
“Oh well...” You motioned for him to come bend down close to you.
When he got close enough you pecked his cheek. 
“I'll see you soon, love.” 
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caplanbuckybarnes · 2 months ago
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In the Lonely Shadows
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Summary: Crowely's always there to help convince you everything's going to be okay after Dean leaves with Lisa & Ben.
Requested by my beloved wife @midnight-moonlight-and-mars sometime back in March. LOL, sorry it’s been forever, my love.
Request: I've got a Crowley request! It can be platonic or romantic. It takes place the year Sam is resurrected and dean is living with Lisa. The reader was close with the Winchesters but after the fight with Lucifer dean abandoned the reader to be with Lisa and cas never answers ( unrequited love maybe?) so the reader teams up with Crowley and becomes like a bounty hunter for him for Lucifer loyalists. 
A/N: It's technically not Crowley x reader since she's pining for Dean. Oops, but I hope you enjoy this all the same, my love.
WC: 1054
Warnings: mentions of loneliness, and blood, the reader feels abandoned and unloved, crowley’s nice, however.
Read on Ao3!
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It had been months since Dean had made his choice. The memory still stung—he chose normalcy, Lisa, and a life far from the chaos... far from you.
The moment Dean drove away to that suburban dream with Lisa and Ben, it was like a wound ripping open and never closing. You didn’t hear from him again, and there was no check-in or phone call—just silence. Castiel, too, was gone, leaving nothing but the ghost of his presence. Prayers went unanswered, and you were left alone with the echoes of battles fought and lives lost.
It was after Lucifer fell that everything seemed to break apart. Sam was gone—dead, you thought. Dean buried himself in the illusion of family, and you… well, you weren’t sure what you had anymore. There was no going back to who you were before the apocalypse, and your heart ached with unspoken feelings, ones that Dean never noticed.
He never loved you the way you loved him.
In the emptiness that followed, Crowley found you. The King of Hell always had impeccable timing. "You look like a stray," Crowley had said the night you crossed paths in some dingy bar in some forgotten town. "Lost your boys, I see. Shame. You were always good at what you do."
You could've walked away, but what was left? With nowhere to go and no one to fight for, you accepted Crowley’s offer—a devil's bargain, becoming a bounty hunter for Hell, tracking down Lucifer loyalists who still believed in the fallen archangel’s cause. It was dark work, but it was work, and it kept your mind from drowning in grief and longing.
The irony wasn’t lost on you. Hunting for Crowley meant betraying everything you’d once stood for, but that world had abandoned you first.
Months later, you stood in the ruins of an old church, blood splattered across the stone walls and broken angelic statues depicting Saints. The demon you’d tracked was a fanatic, a true believer in Lucifer’s return. You wiped your blade clean, not even flinching as the body burned to ash behind you. It was mechanical now—kill, move on. Feel nothing.
Crowley appeared, as he often did after a job well done. He smirked, his eyes gleaming with something close to pride. "Well done, love. Another one bites the dust."
You didn’t respond, just holstered your blade and looked out into the night. The stars were out, a stark reminder of the heaven you couldn’t reach, of the angel who had left without a word.
"You know, I’ve always admired your efficiency," Crowley continued, walking up beside you. "But there’s something hollow in it. Still pining for the good ol' days? For Dean? You haven’t been the same since the Moose and Not Moose fled away from the lifestyle."
The mention of Dean's name sent a wave of cold through you, but you kept your face neutral. Crowley was good at finding cracks in your armor, but you weren’t going to let him in. Not tonight.
"He made his choice," you said flatly. "I made mine."
"Yes, yes, he’s playing house while you do the dirty work. How noble of him," Crowley mocked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "But you and I both know it’s eating you up inside. It’s killing you that he’s living a life that you so desperately crave with him."
You glanced at Crowley, your jaw tight. "What's your point?"
Crowley chuckled, his smile dark. "My point, darling, is that the past always catches up to us. Dean may think he can run from it, but he can’t. Sooner or later, he’ll come crawling back to this life—and to you. And when he does, what will you do? Welcome him with open arms? Or remind him of what he left behind?"
You stared at Crowley, his words sinking in deeper than you wanted to admit. You could pretend that Dean didn’t matter anymore, that you had moved on. But the truth was, no matter how many demons you killed or how many deals you made, there was still a part of you that longed for the life you had before everything went to hell. The part that still loved him. The piece of yur heart where Dean and Sam would wake you up in the mornings with the scents of breakfast wafting through the morning air.
But the man Dean had become—the one who chose Lisa, who walked away without a word—wasn’t the man you had fallen for. Maybe he never was.
"I don’t owe him anything," you said, though your voice sounded hollow even to you.
Crowley’s grin widened, a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. "That’s the spirit. But don’t be too quick to write him off. You never know when an old flame might reignite."
That night, alone in a dingy motel room, you sat on the edge of the bed, staring at your phone. You hadn’t tried calling Dean since the day he left, and you weren’t about to now. But your fingers hovered over Castiel’s number, the angel who had disappeared like smoke as Dean had done so long ago.
You had prayed to him, begged for his help, for some sign that you weren’t completely forsaken. But he, like Dean, was gone.
With a bitter sigh, you tossed the phone aside and laid back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Maybe Crowley was right. Maybe the past never really stayed buried. But what did it matter? You had made your choice, too. You had become something else—something darker, harder.Something you hardly recognized when you’d glanced at your reflection.
The only thing that lingered was the ache. The unspoken words, the love that was never returned, and the haunting thought that in another life, maybe things could have been different.
But this was the life you had now, and there was no going back.
Outside, the world continued its chaotic dance of light and shadow, of good and evil. And you, standing somewhere in between, were left to hunt in the darkness. Alone.
The wind howled against the motel window, but you barely noticed as sleep finally claimed you, the weight of a broken heart your only companion, not noticing the door opening to see a figure standing in the threshold holding a quickly packed luggage bag.
[PART TWO]
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tags!
EVERYTHING PERM: @nekoannie-chan @kjs-s @notyourtypicalrose @mistressofallthingsgeeky
SPN FOREVER PERM: @amelia-song-pond @salt-n-burn-em-all @kenzieam @flamencodiva-reblogs @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes
DEAN WINCHESTER: @fandom-princess-forevermore
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ni-kisno1fan14007 · 4 months ago
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forbidden
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pairings: hopeless romantic prince!riki x maid!reader
warnings: suggestive, smut, fingering, size kink, unprotected sex, mild hair pulling.
He was the crown prince of the Far East, the future king of a people known for following their hearts, seeking romance and love no matter the consequence. They were the beacons of love and lust, the hopeless romantics of the bleak world they lived, lovers of poem, art and love itself. So it was no surprise when Prince Nishimura's eyes caught the sight of a maid, a simple common girl that scrubbed the floors of the castle and served royalty. From your thick dark locks, to doe eyed gaze, to your small frame, everything made him more and more smitten with you. He wanted you, he wanted to show the true meaning of love, spoil you with all the affection a girl could only dream of and show her a life that would put fairytales to shame.
Oh how he dreamed of you, how he desired to feel you lips against his as he tossed and turned in his bed every night, wanting to feel your body against his, in every waking moment until the end of his days. He was ready to drop everything.. everything for you, his title, his birthright.. he pined over you since the moment he laid his eyes on your face. He had to have you, have all for himself. His heart ached for you, bleeding itself dry in moments of longing that had him questioning his sanity for being so infatuated with a commoner.
He stared up at the ceiling, before finally deciding to head off to find you, to confess his undying love that had his mind spinning, he wants to hear your voice.. no he needs to. His footsteps were quiet as he made his way to the servant's quarters, finding the door to your small room, and gently tapping on the door twice. Dressed in a thin white chemise you open your door, confused at who would be looking for you at the time where the moon reigned the skies. Your eyes widen at the sight of the crown prince wearing a simple white shirt that was buttoned down exposing his toned torso, and some pants that hung low on his waist. "My lord-", "No! no more of that, I need you my dear, my heart aches as if it only beats for you, as if my entire being is fuelled by your existence, my body craves your touch as if I might burn away if your fingers do not caress me!, I love you dammit!, I love you so damn much!' he exclaims. You simply stand there, your mouth agape, brain short circuiting at the sight of the crown prince confessing his love to you, a man that had any woman at his feet, now looking down at you with infinite hope.
Before you could even answer, his lips crash against yours, arms wrapping around your waist, and all you could do was give in, melt into his touch as he kissed you like a man starved. His foot pushing the door close as one of his hands lifted up your chemise exposing your thighs to him. "You have no idea how much I have craved you my dear, please let me have you.." he whispers against your lips gently pushing against small bed at the corner of the room. He pins you down, his knee between your thighs rubbing against your intimate area in a slow pace that had your mind melting, fingers digging into his arms. "My lord-", "no, please call me Riki, I need to hear your voice moan my name'", he asks almost begging as his lips touch the soft skin of your neck, making your mind lose its sanity. "Y.. Yes Riki..", whisper out softly, the name still foreign on your tongue.
You let out a gasp as his rips down your dress, exposing your breasts to him, the sigh was better than what he had imagined, an image he had conjured up during his lonely nights of shameful pleasure where he touched himself to the thoughts of you. He couldn't help but groan at the sight of you bare for him, displayed right in front of his eyes, breasts round and moving with each breath you took, down to your hips and thighs rubbing together in anticipation, god he needed you so so badly.
He spreads your thighs wide open, exposing your most intimate area to his eyes, slick and gushing out arousal from the tiny tight entrance as its walls clenched around nothing. He couldn't help but smirk, ego elating at the fact that you wanted him as much as he wanted you. His fingers gently touch you, rubbing circles around your entrance making your legs twitch in pleasure, small sparks of bliss coursing through your body at the contact. Your can't help but moan out as he pushes two fingers inside, making your eyes roll back in pleasure as he stretches out your tight hole, he had to make sure you were prepared to what he had in store for you. He loved you so much, having you at his mercy begging for release was something straight out of his wet dreams. Tight, gummy walls clenching around his fingers, greedily sucking him was intoxicating for him, his pants growing tighter by the second, his member straining against the confines of the fabric. He needed release.. and he was going to get it.
He manhandled you into position, with your ass in the air, face stuffed into the pillows, intimate area dripping with slick sliding down your thighs, all needy and eager for him. He slid down his pants and aligned himself against your entrance, fingers tangled in your hair.. as he slowly pushed in.. all you could do was let out a muffled scream into the mattress as his huge size split you in half. His hold on your hair tightening as he pushes in deeper; the tip kissing your cervix. He groans unable to hold himself back from the feeling of your tight warm walls wrapped around him sending him to an abyss of pleasure that he has only dreamed of. All he wanted right now was you, to take you, and that’s exactly what he did as he pulled his hips back before snapping his hips forward, making you let out a scream of pained pleasure. He moved frantically, thrusts sharp and unforgiving bruising your insides, but you took it.
His movements were uncoordinated, mind hazy while finally receiving the pleasure he has only dreamed of experiencing for the past months, once he could only imagine the sounds you would make as he made love to you, how you would cry out his name with each brink of ecstasy he brought upon your body and mind, and now he has it, all in his hands with his member buried deep inside the girl of his dreams.. he was over the moon. He could care less of that what he was doing was forbidden, a prince being intimate with a servant girl, but he couldn’t care, he didn’t care, he had you now, and that’s all that mattered to him as he had you twitching in his arms after reaching you high, taking in his brutal pace like the good girl you were.
He reaches his high, thick warm release spilling into your womb as he groans out, feeling your walls squeeze him for all his worth. Riki collapses next to you, pulling you close, strong arms wrapped around your small frame, keeping you safe right where you belonged. In his arms in his forbidden embrace.
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forteafy · 1 year ago
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You Think, You Know | CL16 & CS55
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Summary: Some bridges are due to burn, whilst others are destined to mend. Charles wants to lead you into a traditional happily-ever-after, whilst Carlos is still adamant that he can always treat you better. Part 3 of ‘A House, A Home.’
Word Count: 11.3k
Warnings: angst, shouting, a lot of swearing, mentions of cheating and divorce. SMUT. Non-protected sex, oral (M&F receiving,) squirting, degradation, aftercare always.
Note: Thank you all so, SO much for being so patient with me. I really wanted this to be something special and I hope you all enjoy it. Please don't get mad at me because this one is emotional. A massive thank you to my biggest cheerleaders, @oconso, @formulaforza, @a-distantdreamer & @silverstonesainz - I love you all so much.
PART 1: A House, A Home | PART 2: Where Do We Go? | PART 3: 'You Think, You Know'
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You loved your sleep.
There was never too much that could wake you from your slumber. Currently, with the combined sensations of crisp sheets tucked across your frame, soft sunlight drawing through the transparent curtains of the bedroom and snug, strapping arms encircling your waist, it would have to be some form of miracle to awaken you.
The form of this came in the body pressed tightly into your back; smoothly, a pair of lips are drawn to your cheekbone, satin kisses being dropped against your skin. Was it possible to awaken to such a soothing interaction? Your face is drawn to the feeling, turning in his interlocked arms, the side of your face nuzzling into the cushion as your eyes meet the deep, dark pools of his. 
“Good morning.” Carlos whispers, joyful at your rise from shuteye. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been lying there himself, simply basking in the pleasure of holding the girl of his dreams against his firm body. The man was constantly on a lifeline; each time you interacted with him, he’s certain it would be his last, that one day, you’ll be violently ripped from his arms and his heart. 
Suspended in thought, the Spainard is drawn back to reality with the glowing touch of your palm on his skin. Immediately, one of his arms draws away from your waist, resting his own larger hand atop of yours. You look alluring like this; sleep still decorates your eyes, hair tangled from the deep sleep, yet perfect in every sense of the word. 
“Morning.” You respond, allowing yourself to set your gaze upon his face for a little longer. It’s a sin, settling in your stomach at how that same face had lifted from between your leg’s mere hours ago, the remanence of your arousal ever-present atop his stubble. You were certain he had a mouth crafted by the angels, the way his lips had toyed with your most sensitive parts and the way they currently pulled into an enticing smile in the present. 
Two bodies, two souls were entwined in that bed; you weren’t too sure how long you lay there alongside him, reveling in one another’s morning appearances. All you know in that moment is Carlos is overtaking your mind, sprinting through every vein in your body. Every unanswered question from the previous night rendered numb as the man leant forward in your touch, his lips gaining space on your own. 
There’s a sudden, sharp buzz from the other room, causing you both to retract from one another, bodies deep in the king-size mattress. A chuckle leaves his own mouth, running a heavy hand across his face, heart still pounding from the sudden jump of sound in the silent apartment. Something in your heart told you that buzz was for you. Whining from the sudden loss of warmth, you remove yourself from the bundle of blankets and body heat, bare feet padding into his living room, aware of your mobile phone, resting atop of the counter. 
The device gave a heavy buzz once more before you had the realization to pick it up, the battery barely there. You absent-mindedly call out to the man in the bedroom, asking if he had a phone charger you could borrow for a little while. There's clutter from the other room, clearly trying to find a space for your own phone. Whilst that incurred, your eyes flickered across the darkening screen, skin turning cold upon reading the text notifications. 
02:51: Charles Leclerc
I’m in love with you.
02:53: Charles Leclerc
I’m so sorry she was there – I had no idea. She’s gone now, can I come and collect you? Where are you?
03:25: Charles Leclerc
Please let me know you’re safe as soon as you can. Can I come and see you in the morning, please?
08:47: Charles Leclerc
Good morning, my love. How are you feeling today?
Guilt washed through your stomach, not for the interaction you had shared with Carlos; Charles had done substantially worse to you for the past twelve months. No, you knew what it felt like to have no response from somebody you cared for, terrified for their well-being. Even when Charles hadn’t cared for you, you had still nursed him, waiting up for his return in the early hours of the morning. 
With the remainder of your phone battery, fingers fly over the keyboard. Did you want your husband to come and collect you, specifically from his teammates home? He was aware of your building friendship with the Spainard, even if it wasn’t entirely platonic. There wasn’t a huge choice; you especially didn’t want to demand or pry a lift off Carlos, especially after he had come to collect you so late the previous night. 
08:58: You
Good morning, I’m at Carlos’ place. I’d really appreciate a lift back to the house, if that’s okay. 
The message barely had time to send before it’s marked as ‘read’. Immediately, the blue speech bubble pops to the lower corner of your phone, signaling a response was being formed.
09:00: Charles Leclerc
You don’t need to even ask. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. 
Fifteen minutes was not enough time to conceal everything which had happened in the previous hours. Feet now cold, legs now littered in goosebumps, you’d scrambled back into his bedroom, the man now on his own feet, those damn gray jogging bottoms hanging on his hips, a visible outline ever-present. It took your entire soul to remain strong, knowing how tempting this man could become in a matter of moments. 
“Charles is on the way.” You state, suspecting that it would cease all his movements, and allow yourself to get ready for your husband’s arrival. Instead, he’d stepped closer to your frame, leaning his toned torso towards you, locking you in his muscled arms, hiding his face in the skin he’d licked and bitten across the previous night. His mumbles are incoherent, littering across your neck in broken Spanish. He’s saying something. Something you can’t understand but is undeniably a plea for you to stay in his arms. 
Carlos stays pretty much attached to you the entire time you’re preparing for your departure; his body is pressed against yours, littering kisses to the crown of your head whilst you brush your teeth. His scent is so dominating on the hoodie he insists you borrow, slipping that atop of your frame whilst pulling on the bottoms you had wiggled out of the previous evening. The man’s heart explodes upon seeing you bundled into his clothing, a possessive streak striking through his body and soul. 
When your bag is packed, face washed and phone charging, now on the counter of his kitchen, you spend the last few minutes waiting for your husband’s adamant arrival by bundling into Carlos’ side on his plush sofa. It feels entirely natural by this point; his arms encircle your waist, letting you lie against his sternum, soothing yourself to his naturally steady heartbeat. A snippet of your heart desires to take this sole moment and capture it for a lifetime. Safe. Warm. Happy. 
The moment is wafted away from you both with the sudden rapping of knuckles on the front door. Whining, your eyes trail on the Spaniard, focused as he presses a final, fleeting kiss to your temple, pulls himself up from the couch and paces towards the hallway. Your own ears strain to hear the latch lift of the front door, Charles praises for looking after you the previous evening falling over his lips, two pairs of footsteps drawing into the front room. 
Your husband, despite his usual god-like appearance, looked terrible. His hair pushed to the front, clearly in need of a wash and brush. His skin was rubbed raw, face bloodshot; clearly, he hadn’t got a single moment of sleep the previous night, still dressed in the clothes he’d traveled home in the previous night. Despite the heavy lids of his eyes, they still light up when falling onto you. 
“Good morning.” He gives you a smile, only you. You can feel Carlos’ disappointment, even if you can’t see his eyesight at that moment. A pocket-sized smile from your own lips is offered in return, pulling yourself up in that moment, reaching for your bag which remained on the floor, slipping into your soft sneakers.
“Are you ready?” You’d asked softly. Charles’ mouth opened, hesitating before he spoke. He was thinking clearly. 
“I just need to speak to Carlos quickly. Something…private.” He tries to explain his standings, tries to make you feel less awkward as he reaches for the car keys resting in his hoodie pocket. “Are you okay to wait in the car?” He asks softly. He feels in no power to demand your movements, yet he requires one private word with his teammate. 
Your eyes don’t bother to meet Charles, instead immediately flying to meet the dark ones of your unofficial lover. What on god’s earth was your husband about to ask, and why did he want to do it out of your earshot? The look that you give the man says a thousand words, asking if he needs you to stay, hold your ground against Charles. The warm eyes of him give everything you need, silently promising he could handle this man. An entire conversation through looks alone, a skill the two of you had developed so naturally. 
Silently, you take the keys from Charles’ outstretched hand, skin flinching when being pressed against the cool metal. You don’t so much as glance in his direction when you’re walking to the counter, picking up your phone and stuffing it into the pouch of your borrowed hoodie. When turning on your heel, you pace back to Carlos, pressing a surprising kiss to his right cheek, murmuring a ‘Thank You,’ just for his hospitality, of course. You had done all the thanking for the number of orgasms you were granted the previous night. 
The walk towards your husband’s car, the SUV rather than his identifiable Pista, your mind clouded, clotted with an array of questions. Why did Charles need to speak to Carlos alone? Was he aware of the relationship the two had been sharing for an undefinable amount of time? Who on earth was the blonde woman giving you a death stare as she walked up the pathway to the complex, red lips practically hissing at your appearance, storming past you within half a second?
When you turn back to take in her appearance from behind, a sense of sickness settles into your stomach. You’d seen the back of that blonde head before; not in person, but rather on a phone screen. Your phone screen, held between white knuckles as you’d watched the man you had begun to fall for wrap his arms around another woman's lips meshed in a private nightclub, unaware of the multiple cameras capturing their searing moment. 
That was the same woman, identical in her mannerisms. You felt your tummy curdle into pain, into your vague realization that the only reason Carlos had offered you a place in his home, and subsequently his bed that evening, was because he was trying to fill a void until she returned to the scene. Your stomach wanted nothing more than to empty its remaining content in sheer shock. Instead, you breathe deeply, unlocking the door to the car, climbing into the passenger seat and closing your eyes, relaxing into the plush leather of the upholstery. 
You’re not sure how long your husband takes, eyes growing heavy as you await his return. It’s only realized when the driver’s door clicks open, rolling in your seat to watch as Charles climbs into his own, a frown resting at the bottom of his face. However, it’s immediately vanquished when his eyes latch onto your own, grinning at your presence, so close to him. A warm hand reaches out, brushing over the back of your head, sheerly enjoying the comfort you radiated. He'd been lost without you for the past twelve hours. 
Your eyes begin to feel heavy again, though you’re determined to get through the car ride alert, even if the soft scent of his cologne and the gentle lulling tunes from the morning radio are drawing you back to your previous state. Instead, you think of that woman. No, not the mistress you had grown numb to; the blonde woman, the one pressed against Carlos’ chest and lips mere hours after you had been. The glint in your husband’s eye is telling as you go through your endless thoughts, he knows something. 
“The blonde lady going into Carlos’ apartment.” Your voice is completely out of pocket, echoing through the front of the SUV. “Who was she?” There’s no beating around with the question you had asked; there’s no trying to sugar coat what you needed to know. Charles knows it, too. He knows he can’t hide the truth from you, you’re too smart for lies and manipulation, a year married with a mistress had taught him that.
Instead, he emits a deep sigh from his lips, knuckles tightening on the steering wheel as he focuses on the road. “Natasha.” The name falls from his lips, he can’t meet your gaze, not when speaking about another woman to his wife. “She used to work for Ferrari’s PR but left just under a year ago. Carlos and her used to-“ 
“Date?” You’d cut him off without realizing, eyes widening when he’d shaken his head. 
“No, not date.” He responds. “They just had…a thing. Something.” He finished his train of thought, still not mentally ready to turn to you. In a comforting way, you were glad he hadn’t; Charles was unable to see the tears pooling at your lower lash line, the desire to rip off the hoodie now suffocating your body. You learnt in your heart that moment, you were apparently nothing special to Carlos. No, he had a thing. Something, with any woman who passed his way was as a wandering fancy. 
The tears decorating your eyes and desire to relax into the leather seat eventually overpowers your emotionally drained body, pulling you back into a slumber. 
You loved the sound of music.
A faint tune, one you were certain you’d never heard before lured through your ears, drawing you back to consciousness. You couldn’t remember getting home, let alone getting out of the car and tucking yourself into the comfort of your own bed. Groaning, you’d sat yourself up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and stretching the twinge in your back simultaneously. 
The music wasn’t coming from your room; the sound was beautiful, you just needed to locate its source. Your feet twinge when they touch the floor, cool floorboards easing the temperature of your socks. Opening the ajar door to your bedroom, the music grows louder, sound clearly emitting from downstairs, your feet carry you to the staircase with no hesitation. However, when reaching the top of the staircase, eyebrows crease together in confusion, taking in your once-ragged appearance in the crystal mirror. 
Your hair had been braided, albeit not elegantly, but at least out of your face, something you did almost religiously before sleeping. Your attire had changed, too, once you were dressed in Carlos’ sage hoodie. Now, your body was engulfed by Charles’ charcoal jumper, sleeves too long but an entire comfort for your drained mind. Is this what it felt like, to be nurtured and cared for by your husband? The pit of your stomach felt airy; this had been everything you desired for so long. And yet, now you had experienced somebody else, despite the heartbreak, your mind was utterly torn. 
Music grows louder, your mind is suddenly focused back on its original target. With no hesitation now, you began to walk down the flight of stairs, noting your bag and phone resting by the front door. Even with as many notifications as you’d missed in your time asleep, priorities overtook, making your way towards the lounge, eyes transfixed on the figure by the French windows.
Charles Leclerc sat, comfortably and quietly, gentle fingers dancing over the keys of his piano. The soft lights of the room illuminated the figure, a tune you had never heard was fluttering around the open space. 
Of course, you had heard him play the instrument multiple times; during his time spent at the house rather than on the track, he remained transfixed, creating new songs, finding some way to pour every emotion into some kind of melody. You’d lost track of the times you’d come downstairs to get a drink, put the washing into the machine and had instead pushed your body into the doorframe, eyes fixed upon your husband as he created the most beautiful sounds. 
The last time you’d done that, his mistress had been present, leaving over the piano as Charles played her an elegant tune. When she had gone to lean over him, her own fingers wanting to press down against the keys, he’d rested a firm hand on her arm, insisting that she sit on the sofa and listen, instead. The sweet moments of silently viewing your husband had turned sour; you’d silently vowed that day you would never enter the room when he was playing again.
You’d broken that promise mere seconds ago, eyes transfixed upon your husband. You can feel the tension beneath his fingers, as if he’s trying to take the sheer thoughts of everything that had been embedded into his mind in the past twenty-four hours and mesh them into some kind of audible release. Underneath the layers of music, your footsteps can’t be heard as you hesitantly walk towards the end of the living space. His tune reaches a climax, but before the piano can take any more notes, you cough lightly, Charles’ hands ceasing in mid-air. Arching his body weight, he sees your frame standing next to his piano, eyes still sleepy from awakening mere moments ago. The breath catches in the back of his throat; did you always look so perfect in his soft jumpers?
“I’m sorry.” He eventually offers, taking in your sweet, soft appearance. “Did I wake you?” 
“No, no.” The reply tumbles from your lips before you even realize. “It was…beautiful, actually. Is it a new piece?” You ask, entranced by the music which had been flowing freely.
“I’m not sure yet.” He can’t help but smile at the end of his sentence. “I just sort of started playing and this is what came of it.” The explanation is valid; like many creatives, sometimes a free flow form was the simplest way to go. His next movement is almost a shock to your system. “Why don’t you come and help me?” The offer is completed when he shuffles up on the piano stool, patting on hand on the available gap. There’s hesitation in your movement, before his hand trails upwards, leaning to clasp one of your own, guiding you towards the stool. 
There’s an overpowering smell of his cologne, a scent you were slowly drawing yourself towards. The body heat from his frame radiates into your own. Shyly, you reach out, pressing down on one of the piano keys, a tone spouting from the instrument. Charles can’t help but smile upon your interaction, eyes questioning as you analyze the instrument.
“Do you know how to play?” He asks gingerly, watching as you shake your head in response. His actions exchange, resting one of his warm palms over your own. The next moments are filled with your husband guiding your hands over the piano, teaching you the tune to old nursery rhymes. When you reach the end of the piece, he cheers in delight at the achievement. 
“Play me something now.” You ask carefully, head becoming heavy, heavy enough to rest on your husband’s shoulder. When you feel his body tense, you immediately sit back up, convinced you’ve overstepped a line. That thought is soon relinquished when Charles’ hand flies out, wrapping around the back of your head and pulling you back down to his shoulder, your breath hot on his neck, it’s enough for him, hesitant to overstep the boundaries you were adamant upon currently. 
His fingers move back, continuing the song he had been conducting earlier. The piece had started out slowly, almost sad-like, before building, building towards a romantic counterpart. In his mind, it was the perfect song to punctuate the relationship he maintained with his wife. They both sat there, barely any moment as the music was the only sound present in their house. 
When the song finishes, neither of you move, relishing in the soft touch you’re both sharing. Charles’ own head falls atop of your own, letting his cheek rest against your hair. There’s no form of time between you both, simply enjoying being alive, alive with one another. It’s interrupted when you feel Charles’ take an exaggerated breath, removing his keys from the piano. One of his hands rests upon his side, the other slides between the minute gap between you both, wrapping a toned arm around your waist. The movement causes you to lift yourself from his firm shoulder, catching those beautiful eyes from your glance. 
“I’m traveling to Monaco tomorrow.” He says it so casually, as if it’s as normal as entering or leaving the building. You can feel his heart race in anticipation of what he was due to say, his body temperature raising dramatically, radiating through his hoodie. You offer him a warming smile. You really didn’t want him to leave, not when you were growing so unnaturally fond of his presence. 
“Oh really, what for?” Is the eventual reply. In this moment, you simply can’t hold his eye contact, he’s staring into your soul, it’s as if he can sense every thought which is currently trekking through your mind; does he know how much of a hold he has on you, even if your marriage was entirely staged, at least in his eyes. 
“I’m off to see my mother” He clarifies. “It’s been a while and I just want to check in.” It’s a lie. You can tell from the way his body language changes; his hands are suddenly clenching tighter, his grip on your waist firm as if he’s terrified, you’ll run away. He can’t admit it, he’s not strong enough. If you step away, he will fall back to the way he was the previous night; eyes bloodshot, unable to sleep unless he knows you’re safe. 
“Give her my best.” The response is blunt, short. You’re on entirely different wavelengths, different planets. He never told you of his reasoning for things; a golden rule you had learnt at the beginning of this era. Just…you’d never question him; you would simply co-exist. What he says next makes your blood run cold. 
“Why don’t you come with me? I’d really appreciate it.” Why on earth would your estranged husband want you to come on his travels, presumably when the entire point was to spend the entirety of it wrapped in the arms of another woman. Yet, a feeling in your stomach settled. Did you actually want to spend hours in this empty house alone? Now that Carlos was no longer a welcome distraction, anything would be better than wallowing in your silence. 
“I will.” You eventually respond. “On one condition.”
“Anything.” His eyes are wide, so willing. He’d scooted tighter towards you, as if he could hold together this entire conversation, stopping the whole world from crumbling around you. You must be the one to take a deep breath this time. You had to remain firm with your choices, with what you needed to know. 
“What was in the white envelope that your mistress gave you yesterday?”
You loved the glow of candlelight. 
Having never entered Charles’ study, his fingers interlocked with your own as he guided you through the heavy door, you didn’t realize how many candles he had resting around his office. They laid upon his windowsill, on his desk, he even had a mulberry-scented candle resting next to his racing simulator. 
There was only one candle which was lit, he had obviously forgotten to extinguish it whilst you were deep in your slumber. Despite the fact you hadn’t ever been given access to this room, you’d have to make a mental note in order to check for any fire hazards the next time you were in the building alone. 
The envelope resting upon the desk stuck out like a sore thumb; his computer, stationary, it was all a cool gray tone whereas the envelope stuck out in a bright white glow. 
“I need you to know before you look at this, it’s a lot worse than it comes across.” Even in the candlelight, his face had turned pale, barely able to keep his fear from dancing across his emotions. You need to remain strong. You need to see what was left in the envelope. 
Staying firm, your grasp reaches out towards the desk, taking the card into your own hands. “I want to see it.” You clarified, letting your finger trace under the flap of the envelope.
You don’t let your husband’s words overpower you, distract you in any way. Instead, your hand reaches into the envelope and grasps around a stack of…something. It feels like multiple pieces of paper pressed together, though one side remains glossy, as if printed onto a special sheet. Hesitantly, your hand pulls from the envelope, eyes immediately widening upon seeing the content in question.
It's photographs. Multiple photographs of Charles and his mistress. Some of them are casual, taken from her phone, smiling selfies and dinner dates. Others are…compromising, verging on pornographic. You can feel the lump in your throat tightening, tears are forming on your lower lash line, but you must keep strong. You cannot show any weakness when you ask to see this.  
“That’s her, isn’t it?” Your voice betrays you, weakening as your words continue. “Your…girlfriend.” You don’t want to use the other word; it’s clear from these photographs it was more than sex, it was more than just an escapade. 
“She’s- she’s not anymore.” Charles pauses, his eyes don’t focus on the photographs, only on you. His wife, who he has hurt so badly and now must see the pain littered across her face. “She hasn’t been since your mother passed away.”
Your heart stops at the mention of your mother, a sharp spike of longing for the woman suddenly danced through your chest. Then, you were angry. How dare he pity you, you didn’t want it, not from him. But…you still wanted him. He’d clouded your emotions, nothing was black-and-white with your husband, just a cacophony of colors. 
“That was your reason for dumping her. Sympathy?” You don’t care how harsh your voice comes across, instead just aggravated you were growing to care about his reasoning. Life had been simpler weeks ago, when you simply stayed at home, minding your own business whilst he got on with his. By the look on Charles’ face, he wasn’t expecting the hostility, either. 
“No! I dumped her because it was wrong, because I have a loving wife who I would give anything for.” The room goes silent, giving you time to process the words that had come from his lips. You had been so certain for so long that he didn’t care about you; that everything he did was for his own gain and pleasure. Yet…he had given up his mistress for you. He’d given up something that made him happy because you were not. 
Stressing, you run a hand through your hair, placing the photographs back into the envelope, speaking to your husband as you place the card back onto his desk. You feel sick. These photographs exist and it was a perfect way to destroy the two of you, it was perfect ammunition to a metaphorical pistol. “So, what does she want you to do with these photographs?”
“Nothing.” Charles leans over your own body, reaching for a second stack of papers resting upon the desk, one you had considered would simply be notes from Scuderia Ferrari. Warm seeps through your body at his close contact, one hand almost trailing against your back as he grasps to the stack of crisp sheets, barely touched.  “She’s threatened to publish them if I don’t sign…this.” 
You took the stack of ivory papers into your palms. It was sprawled with a size twelve font, you were uncertain of where to begin until two words in bold took your attention, printed formally across the top of the page. 
“Divorce Papers.” Your voice is barely a whisper, heart dropping to your stomach. 
“That’s the other reason I’m going to Monaco.” He’s explaining his own status now, eyes glassy with the fear of you walking straight out of the office. He wouldn’t blame you, of course. He couldn’t blame you for anything anymore. Charles reaches out to your grasp, wiggling the paper from your fingers and placing them back against the desk.  “I’m filing for a lawsuit against her, a restraining order for manipulation and stalking.” 
A scoff falls from your lips; the mere contrast of the events from a few weeks ago compared to now. He truly intended to file a lawsuit against a woman who he’d happily let warm his bed whilst you went to bed each night with nothing but regret and bloodshot eyes. “Do you…do you want a divorce?” You can feel your voice cracking. “I mean, if she’s sent you these, you must have mentioned wanting one-”
“I did.” Charles doesn’t miss a beat. “I mentioned how I didn’t want a divorce because despite everything…I do care for you.” The room goes silent, not even the flickering of the candle or the soft wind from the French windows can pierce the tone of the room. 
A huff escapes your lips, arms resting by your side as you formulate a response; “You had a really weird way of showing it.” Your response is blunt, it clearly warrants the sad look on your husband’s face. 
“I know. That’s why I’m going to make it right. Please come to Monaco with me. She won’t be there; you don’t have to come to the lawyer with me. But…I need to be able to come back to my wife.” His hand reaches out, cradling your own in this moment. Gently, he lifts your palm to his cheek, resting it upon his stubble and letting his lips trace a kiss across the soft skin. 
He truly does know how to make your heart flutter, despite everything. 
“Okay.” You eventually respond, focused on his gaze when his eyes turn wide in anticipation. 
“Yeah?” His heart is picking up in happiness, reaching to hold you in his own grasp, but instead falling short when you raise a finger, ceasing his movements towards your body. 
“But…you need to give me tonight, alone. To process that.” Gently, you take a step forward, leaning gently towards him. You can’t leave him, not before you gently press a kiss to his cheek, turning on your heel, your figure illuminated in the corridor by the soft candlelight. “Goodnight, Charles.”
“Goodnight, beautiful.” 
You loved the feeling of warm water.
There is only a slender picking of moments in your life where you have felt truly relaxed; sitting by the lake in the rolling fields your family had owned for generations, lounging in the bed of the Madrid-Based apartment your friends had hired for a holiday in the early spring morning. 
You had never thought one of those relaxing moments would be as your mother-in-law massaged her hands through your locks, lathering an expensive shampoo into the roots of your hair. She was gentle; no tangles fell through her fingers as her rhythm stayed perfectly relaxing, hitting all the spots which would send a flood of relief through your scalp. 
You’d arrived in Monaco early that morning, immediately being transported to the luxurious hotel your husband had booked you into. Most of the trips he’d book you wouldn’t attend, and when you did would be ignored by him altogether. This time, he’d remained present, willing. Your hands had entwined the moment you had left the privacy of the jet, nestling into the back of the car, eyes heavy from the early rise.
Not much is remembered after you’d arrived outside the opulent building; bags were removed and transported to your room by the bellhop, both you and your husband were given hotel cards, an older lady at the desk explaining the functions dotted around the high-end establishment. All you could remember was the door to the room opening, your tired body making a beeline towards the emperor bed, nuzzling into the soft furnishings with sleep overtaking you in a matter of moments. 
Charles hadn’t been able to help the tug on his heartstrings as he’d seen you tumble into the mattress. You’d been so thoughtful; dropping everything back at your house and accompanying him to Monaco, promising to be there for him as he promised to fix the wounds from his previous mistakes. He’d give anything to crawl into the bed alongside you, wrap his frame around your own and fall back into his own slumber, one he had despised the night before simply because he wasn’t able to hold you in his arms. He was learning to respect your wishes; after all, he had a lot of repairing to do-so. Even after recent conversations with his Ferrari counterpart, he could never bring himself to hate you. 
His phone buzzes from his back pocket and upon inspection he sees the reminder, he’s due with his lawyer in less than forty-five minutes, but he doesn’t want to leave you, not alone. A thought sparks into his head, fingers flying through his contacts and dropping a message to one, asking if they could take you over to his mother’s salon later in the afternoon. By the time he’s returned from changing in the en-suite and brushing a comb through his hair, the responses from both Joris and his mother had lit up his screen, confirming his plans for later in the afternoon. 
Your husband had allowed himself one more look at you, so peaceful wrapped up in the comfort of the bed. Silently, he leans over your frame, running a gentle hand across the back of your head, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your forehead, murmuring his sweet words to your sleeping form.
When you’d awoken, there was a message clarifying that Joris would be taking you to his mother’s salon a little later and he would come to collect you once he was finished with his lawyer. That’s how you had ended up walking into her salon earlier that afternoon, her delighted smile present after seeing her daughter-in-law.
Pascale wasn’t stupid, that much was clear. She was aware of the strain in her middle son’s marriage, just not to the extent that he had been toying with a mistress for the better part of a year. However, she had grown to adore you; your mannerisms, laughter and the fact that you clearly held a candle for Charles, despite the dwindling flame of the marriage. If she had a daughter, she’d want her to be just like you. 
“Are you and Charles up to anything this evening?” Her voice is gentle, motioning for you to stand up from the basin chair and walk towards the mirrors, resting yourself in one of the seats. Your reflection bores back into you, focused as Pascale adjusts your head slightly, brushing the tendrils of hair through her comb. 
“I’m not sure.” You respond. “I know he has some business this morning.” It’s an understatement. When Joris had collected you from the hotel, he’d tried to give you what information he could – Charles had arrived at his Lawyer’s office, ready to file the case against his mistress. He wasn’t too sure how long it was going to take, though he had told Joris to be on hand for anything you needed when he couldn’t. 
“You make him happy; you know?” Pascale mentions, tilting your head to angle your hair correctly. “I know he hasn’t always been…the greatest.” You’re not sure if she’s aware of everything, but her tone seems to stand where you need it to do so, “but you make…such an impact in his life.” 
Not much else is said whilst the woman continues to trim your hair, adjusting your face as she does so. It was nice, not to be cooped up into a hotel room for the entirety of the day, nor to be sitting in Charles’ driver room whilst he walked around, finger entwined with his mistress. You’re so engrossed in Pascale drying your hair, setting the locks into soft rollers that you don’t realize when the door chimes open, another figure entering the quiet salon. The woman’s eyes brighten, and you hear her cooing before your own face turns, taking in the figure of your husband in the doorway. 
Charles looks breath-taking. He’d clearly showered and changed since you had last seen him bundled in his travel gear that morning. Your deduction would be correct; the man had hastily returned to the hotel to jump into the shower, changing into a power blue shirt and white trousers. His hair, free of styling products curled in an unruly way, one that made his whole face structure elevate. 
In his hands, he held both a soft white dress over his arm, one you had packed in your case fleetingly the evening before; it had been steamed and washed, the fabric clear and petticoats of the skirt floating gently. In his other hand, a vibrant bouquet of roses. His smile never faded, walking over to his mother and pressing a kiss to each of his mother’s cheeks. Once his attention turns towards you, his eyes only brighten. 
“Hello, beautiful.” You can’t tell whether he’s playing up the affection in front of his mother, or whether it’s genuine. However, when one hand comes to rest on your cheek, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. He’s being respectful; making sure not to cross a boundary. 
“Hello, handsome.” The response falls from your lips without realizing, the grin on your husband's face only rising. Fuck. Did you mean to say that? Regardless, you had done, and by the look on his face he not only didn’t expect it but had instantly grown to love it. Charles had completely forgone the flowers in his grasp, only remembering them after your eyes had darted down towards his palms. 
“Oh-“ His mind finally catches up with the present situation, raising his hand to present you with the flowers. They’re colors are soft, delicate, as if etched by crayon. You can’t help but smile at the gesture, even if it was entirely a false pretense in front of his mother. You can’t see her face, but you know she’s smiling, seeing her son present to his wife in such a sweet manner. Now, your gaze isn’t fixed against the flowers in your grasp, but the dress from your suitcase.
“Something tells me that won’t fit you, Charles.” You tease the garment laying over his forearm, only to cause a smile to appear on his lips again. 
“I want to take you out for the afternoon. If that’s okay with you.” His voice is low now, hoping to avoid any prying of the conversation from his mother, though her attention was now turned to locating the hair dryer, still needing to complete your own treatment. “Would that be…okay?” He’s nervous. Fearful that after everything, you could now reject him and feel no remorse.
You’re not a cruel person, it has never been in your nature. Instead, you match his own smile, nodding as you take the garment from his grasp, Charles’ eyes widening in confirmation. 
“Trust you to pick out my favorite dress, too.” You mumbled. 
You loved the sound of the ocean. 
You loved everything about the sea, truly. The reflections from the moonlight caused shards to reflect over Charles’ boat; the new yacht had barely had time to stretch the waters, though it seemed to float as if it had been nurtured its entire existence. 
The afternoon of a late lunch had expanded into expensive, late-night wine on the boat as your husband had guided you into deeper waters. He knew what he was doing, after all; the waters of Monaco were a comfort to him, a lifetime had stretched out from jumping into the ocean as a child to yacht parties during the Grand Prix. 
You’d seemed entirely at home, and it made his heart warm. Charles wasn’t a stupid man; he saw how you kept yourself small, your setup at the house barely spanning over two rooms. He’d wanted nothing more than to break the walls you had put up for oh-so-long and entwine your lives together.
Then he would reprimand himself, remind himself he was the sole reason those walls existed. 
Conversation had spanned naturally into the events of the day; you thanked him for thinking of you, he’d responded with a mention of you deserving that form of treatment every single day. Your mind can’t take the anticipation; when your lips lift from the glass of wine, you can’t help but ask what his lawyer had recommended about his mistress. Your husband’s grin had fallen a little, running a hand through his dark curls. 
“It’s a difficult one.” He explains. “There’s enough there for a case, considering we haven’t had contact in a while. But…” He doesn’t need to finish his sentence; you do for him. 
“The photographs are counted as evidence.” You finish, and he can only nod. He’s created such a mess, something he could never forgive himself for doing so. A web of lies and mistreatment surrounded you both; he so wanted to break each thread and simply cradle you, be in a bubble for the rest of eternity. 
He’s expecting you to stay silent, then. Maybe that’s where the evening should have ended, with silence upon the realization that this case will not be easily solved. Instead, you place the glass of wine down on the ledge of the stairs, easing his own glass from his grasp. Charles is confused, even more so when you walk back towards him, wrapping your arms to close around his neck. 
“What are you doing?” He whispers. His hands raise hesitantly, as if touching you would break you into a million pieces. His grasp only falls to your waist when you press closer towards the man, resting your gaze on his own eyes. He’s hurt you, broken you to such an extent, and yet you can’t help but draw closer to his touch, to his eyes. 
“Being your wife.” You respond, before pressing your lips to his own. This is the first time, the first time in so long that you had been the one to initiate a kiss. Naturally, Charles’ hands wrap tighter around your waist, pulling you into his chest, deepening your touch, your kiss. This. This is the moment he wishes to bottle forever, to live in the comfort of his wife’s touch, no outside means, no other commitments being hung over his head. 
You’re not sure how long you both stand there, wrapped in one another, hands fleeting over each other, desperate to find some touch, some form of skin. It isn’t until your fingers reach to unbutton the top of his powder-blue shirt, that his own come to rest atop of yours. He knows he’s made a mistake when he sees the look you shoot him, immediately assuming the worst. 
“No, no.” He promises, both hands flying from where they had grasped yours, cradling each side of your face. It feels…warm. It feels so similar to the way Carlos had cradled your head once, when you were both on a boat, much like this. You think of those dark eyes, the whispers drawn into your ear as he had sharply thrusted into you that evening. Then, you think of the blonde appearing outside his apartment mere hours after you had been tangled in his arms. 
“I want to.” Charles’ words draw you from your endless train of thoughts. “Sweetheart, I want to more than anything, but I need you to know how much it means-“
You don’t let him finish; instead, you press your mouths back together, forcefully. There are whispers from your own lips, pleading that he take you, that you want nothing more than to feel your bodies atop of one another. 
And who is he to deny his wife? 
You’re not sure when he scoops you up into his arms, guides you inside of the boat and to the soft bed that had been freshly made mere hours ago, but he never lets your lips leave one another for less than a moment.
He’s everywhere; he’s pressing into you in the most delicious way, he’s drawing your body of the most intense sounds, and then you’re coming, harder than you ever thought was possible, it hits you in the most delicious way. 
Your fingernails pressed crescents into his skin as he continued to push into you with that perfect rhythm. Feeling your hot breath dance against the shell of his neck, the sweet whimpers of your overstimulated orgasm falling from your lips. Charles feels you clench around him, dragging you into him deeper, and it's all over.
His head immediately falls into the joint of your neck and shoulder, his pants getting heavier, thrusts rougher as he chases his own release. Teeth escape from his lips, biting down atop of the red marks he'd left earlier in a passion; the gasp you let-out, the roll of your hips against his own pushes him over the edge, a moan falling out from his own lips, hands flying to grip at your forearms pinned above him. You can feel every inch of him buried inside of you, warmth spilling into you.
Heavy hips press into yours, your thighs still pressed around his waist when he lifts his head from the warmth of your skin, pressing one final deep kiss to your lips, a profanity of words escaping from his mouth.
He kisses you again. And again. He keeps doing it whilst slowly rocking his hips, still jittering from his own orgasm. Senses come through, those eyes you had been entranced in so many times fixing to your own, drinking you in, looking so beautiful underneath his own frame.
"You still want somebody else?" The teasing is natural, almost, inflicting you to roll your eyes and playfully push his arm. God, your laugh is the most adoring sound in the world to him, it had been so long since he'd heard it, even then, it had never been due to his own actions until recently. The adorned look in his eye is soon replace with confusion when he feels you wiggle underneath him, soft blankets rubbing against your back.
"Are you going somewhere?" He questions, one hand coming up to trace against your jawline. You want to lean into his touch, it's something you'd been attracted to recently, though the mess between your legs and sweat trailing down your skin seemed to tell you something different.
"I need to clean up." You whine, pressing your body into the plush mattress. "I'm all gooey, Charles."
"I've got it." He murmurs, pressing one soft kiss to your cheek, another to your neck. You expect the weight from above to release you, but the warmth radiating from his body remains. You feel lips trace against your chest, his untamed curls tickle your stomach as he traces down a direct line.
"What are you doi-" You never get to finish you question, the fourth word cut off with a soft gasp, those lips which had pressed to yours, now pressing down against your clit, a soft praise towards your body whilst his tongue traced around the sensitive bud, drawing a slice through your wet lips, pressing deeper and deeper into your entrance.
The room is illuminated with your whines, hips bucking against his stubble as he fulfills his promise of cleaning you up.
You loved the feeling of being held.
You’d been unfathomably happy to walk into the paddock that evening, fingers interlaced with Charles’ as he guided the two of you through the fans and photographers alike, buzzing to be starting on Pole Position when his wife would be watching in awe of his achievement. 
You hadn’t been there on qualifying day; you were still trying to keep your distance where you could, to prove to your husband he couldn’t instantly win you back overnight. It had only been when he’d come into the en-suite of your room the evening before, hands wrapped around your waist as he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, pleading you came to watch him race the following night.
“I’ll win.” He promises, voice quiet as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “I’ll win it for you.” 
His sweet words had not only lured you to the race track the following day but had also drawn you to sleep in his bed that evening, curled up into his toned chest as he murmured words of appreciation in French; only a few you were able to pick up and understand the meaning of as you drifted into a comfortable sleep, arms cradling your body underneath the bed sheets.
There was a collective, loving aura that evening when the two of you had stepped into his garage, the team in awe of seeing that their Prince of Monaco and his beloved Princess had been reunited, here to support one another. However, one figure remained quiet, eyes transfixed on your every movement. He felt his knuckles turn white when Charles had changed into his race suit, placing his cap atop of your own head and had lovingly pressed two kisses to either of your cheeks.
Carlos Sainz was a jealous man; he’d been infuriated when his blonde fling had appeared on his doorstep, instantly realizing the kind of man he must have been made out to be when you’d seen her appear on your departure. He’d hoped and prayed you hadn’t seen her, but from the radio silence he received over messages and calls, to the way you had purposely avoided speaking to him when arriving in the paddock, he could tell you were not that naive.
Emotions had played a heavy part on both of the Ferrari Pilots during the start of the race. One, determined to keep his promise and win whilst his wife was present. The other was so clouded with sadness and rage that all he wanted to do was push his counterpart off the track. The lights snapped off, 20 engines revving in unison as the cars blitzed down the first straight. 
It doesn’t take long for emotion to overcome; Charles’ P6 soon creeps towards a P3, whilst Carlos begins to drop. A violent turn into Oscar Piastri not only takes the young rookie out of the race, but the Ferrari driver, too. Nobody misses the swears as he switches the engine off, nor the scowl on his face as he removes the steering wheel, ready to be escorted back to the garage. 
When the blur of red comes through the paddock, you can’t help but feel guilty, telling yourself that if you had spoken to him, he would have been able to keep a cool head. Silently, you slip the headphones from your temple, murmuring about going to the bathroom before taking a direct beeline towards Carlos’ room, catching the door just before it’s due to slam closed. 
He was seething. Pure rage flicked across his eyes; the warm smile reserved for you replaced with a harsh scowl. This may have been a mistake. 
“What do you want?” His words are venom, spit towards you. He cannot stand to see you right now.
“I just-“You pause, clearing your throat. “I wanted to check if you were okay.” It’s a pathetic answer, really. One that didn’t sit right in your mouth, even after you had spoken. 
“I’m alright?” He scoffs, shaking his head. “You ignore my calls, go away and fuck that pathetic man and then come back to me?” He’s pissed, undoubtedly so. “You whore. I understand it all now.” He shakes his head, missing the fire which had begun to burn in your own stomach. 
“You have no right!” You’d shrieked so loudly you’d startled yourself; one finger was still pointed into his infuriated face, your finger mere millimeters from the bridge of his nose. Hot air engulfed both of your bodies, the only sound present was the deep and heavy breathing flaring from your nostrils. 
Without a thought, Carlos had slapped your finger away from his face, lunging forward dramatically to seize your face into his rough palms. His lips are on yours, roughly seeking the wet trace of your tongue. You can’t fight him; not when his lips feel so flawless against your own. A rough palm encases the back of your neck, the other wrapping around your waist as he holds your frame tighter against his own. 
Your breath barely had a moment to catch when he forcefully pulled his lips from you, emitting a white from your breath. That innocent sound is soon replaced by a sharp gasp, his fingers tightening against your scalp, pulling on your locks. 
“Don’t fucking whine.” He spits, ghosting his lips over your own, never letting them touch yours. Warm breath tickles the shell of your ear when his grip pulls tighter onto your hair, tiling your ear to meet his mouth. “I’m sick of your whining, about your horrible excuse for a husband. I will treat you how you should be treated.”
There’s no time to react as his pink tongue pokes from his lips, a stripe tracing from the corner of your ear, across the sweetest spot of your neck. You’re reveling in the wetness, the sinful way his words litter through the air before teeth sink into your skin. He doesn’t bother to cover your mouth, mute the sweet sounds falling from your lips. There’s no decency anymore, Carlos doesn’t care who sees the marks he engraves into your skin. The ring on your left hand means nothing more than a reminder that he could be better. 
“Carlos-“ You struggle to connect the two syllables together, hands gripping through his hair, pulling at the brown locks in your fingers. “Fuck-“ 
“What did I just say?” He grunts from the valley of your neck, one hand sliding from your waist and flying out, smacking on your clothed butt. The shock simply causes you to gasp out loud, pushing your own throbbing crotch into his hard one. A smirk forms against your neck, clear as day when the man pulls himself from your neck. His lips are wet, saliva from his own mouth tracing around your lips. 
One hand finds your face again, grasping at your chin tilting your head backwards to hover below his own. A single finger taps at your lips, signaling for you to open wide for him. He’s sinful as he lets his spit fall across your lips, eyebrows raised as he wraps a hand around your throat, clearly overpowering your stance in this moment.
“Swallow.” He commands, hand resting on your cheek firmly. The tone of his voice sends a shock of energy down your chest and between your legs, cunt throbbing at his words. Of course, you comply, swallowing the remanence he had given you. “Good girl.” 
The sweet nicknames in this moment have evaporated; Carlos is nothing short of animalistic, his presence all too understanding as one hand takes its place around your neck, the other grabbing firmly onto your wrist as he guides you backwards, softly falling onto the sofa of his driver’s room. The pitying looks the man gives you sends a thousand messages through your brain. 
“No, no. Dirty little girls don’t get to sit on my sofa.” He teases, both hands clasping your waist, sliding you off the plush furnishings and resting on the cold floor, kneeling for the Spaniard. “You need to be on your knees, you need to be taught how to behave.” 
Eyes widen as his tanned fingers pull at the knotted arms of the fireproofs resting on his waist. Even through his underclothes, the shape of his hard length is clearly visible, even more so as he removes his underlayers and briefs, letting himself spring freely, one hand rubbing his shaft a few times, the other knotting in the back of your hair. 
He loves this; cock in his hand as he taps the tip against each of your cheeks, trailing himself against the parting of your lips, having to hide the shiver from his own body when the wetness of your mouth. His eyes are sparkling when he uses his firm cock to press through your mouth, relishing in the warmth of your lips wrapping around his length. 
“That’s it, be a good girl. Take it.” He coos as you struggle to take more of his length, attempting to give small, tentative licks to his cock whilst he slides between your lips. It sends him feral, wild. He thinks of nothing else as both hands grip tightly in your hair, shoving your face into his crotch, your gags music to his ears as he continues to take control of the situation.
When your eyes adjust, look up from his groin, he almost feels sorry for you. They’re wide, glassy, snuffles falling from your lips as he continues his forceful attack. One hand slowly removes itself from the strain on your locks, tracing over your cheek, thumb rubbing underneath your eye, removing the salty tears as your breath remains heavy through your nose. 
“Oh, poor baby.” He teases, pace never relenting. “This is what you need, someone to put you in your place, remind you what you deserve for teasing me, making me jealous.” He can’t help but chuckle at the pathetic sound coming from your lips. He can feel his stomach tightening, the warmth drawing an imminent release from his cock. This isn’t how he wants to finish, he can’t yet. 
Your mouth feels empty when he pulls out, giving you no warning, the gasps falling from your lips at the sudden gain of air. He doesn’t give you time to respond, a heavy hand pushing your front to the floor, lifting your hips, ass straight back in the air. No warning, the skirt of your dress is lifted, the wetness of your cunt seeping through your panties. The anticipation kills you, until a warm finger slides into your folds with no warning. Your body can’t help but react, clenching around the warmness without even realizing. You also don’t realize the sounds you’re making, until the finger removes itself, a palm harshly smacking on your behind. 
“What did I say about noises?” He grunts, leaning around to push the wet finger into your own mouth. “Do you like it? Taste what I do to you?” Hurriedly, he presses his finger in and out of your lips a few times before returning it to your wet hole, wiggling in the air. This time there’s two; stretching you out, your palms trying to find anything to grip, to hold on to as he carelessly thrusted, tickling a sweet, sweet spot deep in your stomach. 
“I- Carlos I can’t-“ You whine through raspy breaths. He can feel you clenching, swelling around his fingers, and is rewarded when he hastily pulls them out of you, a long moan and a squirt of arousal pushing from your cunt. A sheer shock of arousal floods between his own legs, rubbing his fingers against your wet folds, letting your wetness trail onto the tips of his hand.
“Oh, your husband can’t make you do that, can he?” He’s proud; proud he’s able to draw such a reaction from your body. “Come on, baby, up we get.” His arms are suddenly firm, present around your waist as he pulls you to stand on two shaky legs, still reveling in the feeling he had granted you moments ago. 
Hands retract from your waist and come to hold your face, pressing kisses to your scarlet lips as he guides you from a standing position towards his couch, finally allowing himself to sink into the cushions. You want nothing more than to join him, feel his warmth and aura around your own body, but by the finger he’s raised as he situates himself into the sofa, you can tell you’ll have to wait. 
The moment he sits down, a tanned hand comes to his crotch to rub his length a few times, your eyes widening as you plead for it; mind clouded by lust, all you want is for something warm to fill you up, make you feel as good as he had done so many times before. Carlos’ finger beckons for you to join him, and you know what he’s insinuating. 
Your movements are commanded by the Spaniard; immediately, there are two firm hands on your body, pulling you into his touch and sinking you down onto his cock. You don’t miss the way his lips quirk into a grin, oh-so-happy to see your reaction to the pleasure he had granted you. It’s no match for when he starts moving, bouncing you up and down on his lap, fallen gasps from your lips as your faces draw closer and closer.
You were sinking into one another’s skin; he wanted nothing more than to entwine your bodies for eternity. One hand was firm around your waist, guiding your movement with the strength only he could. The other guided a gentle trace across your face, pulling you closer, closer to his own face as his thrusts got faster, erratic. 
“You’re mine.” He grunts, never once breaking eye contact as his hips grew tighter, his cock making your cunt squeeze in a way you didn’t know was physically possible. “You’ve always been mine, tell me you’re mine.”
His eyes go soft, thrusts pausing for a second as he notes the tears pooling in your eyes from the sheer euphoria running through your body. A whine falls from your lips as you feel his strong hand tug at your neck, pressing your foreheads towards one another, hips slowing for just a moment, letting your breath catch up to your aching body. 
“I’m yours.” You’d whisper, mind clouded. You were his. There could be a thousand cars, an ocean or a wedding band between the two of you and you would still always find your way back to Carlos. Whatever that relationship would form, you would always be a part of him. 
The murmured confirmation was enough to send a shot of energy through his spine, his thrusting becoming deeper, passionate. It barely takes five thrusts before he’s groaning, throwing his head back and letting out a low moan as he spills himself into you. The warmth is enough to send your cunt into flutters, clenching so tightly as your body falls into his chest, whining as you feel a gush of wetness drip onto his crotch. 
Undoubtedly, Carlos Sainz is now a part of you. Time seems to flicker between seconds and minutes, at some point you’ve shifted your weight, turning around to fix your eyes onto the television screen of his room, eyes wide as you watch your husband continue to battle out on the track. It felt almost sinful; watching Charles battle for his podium whilst his teammate stayed buried inside of you. 
His touch goes soft; one hand remains tight around your waist, though your back is warmed by the way you’re pulled back into his skin. Feather-Light kisses dance across your shoulder, he’s never been this soft, cradling you as if the world would be held together by your content. If the universe was to implode, he would be happy with the fact you were pressed into him in that very moment. 
The laps of the race begin to dwindle; a promising second-place is looking pretty much secured for Charles. You’re certain that your silver trophy will be sitting proudly in the hotel room later that evening, until Max Verstappen suddenly begins to slow down, commentators beginning to roar as an unexpected engine issue splutters into the RB19. 
“Holy shit.” Carlos murmurs, sitting up from his relaxed position, both arms now tightly around your waist as he shifts the balance of your bodies. “What happened to Max?” His voice becomes a murmur, your attention drifts, focused on the cars beginning to pick up their speed against the current world champion. 
Goosebumps litter your skin, you immediately pull away from the warmth of Carlos, eyes wide as you see the scarlet red car glide into view. He’s going to overtake Max. Not only that, but your husband is about to win the entire race. 
An audible groan comes from both of you when you slip yourself off his length, searching around for the panties which had been discarded oh-so-long ago; the man rests a hand on your shoulder, one hand tracing across your jawline as the other reaches down, gently smoothing the skirt of your long dress. 
“We’ll find them later. We need to go and congratulate your husband, after all.” You can’t miss the cockiness in his voice, still content with the fact his cum is buried deep inside your pussy, panties are left in his driver’s room as a sheer prize for being able to make you feel euphoric. A tinted blush decorates your cheeks as he slips into his old jeans and a Ferrari polo shirt, one hand resting on the small of your back as he guides you out of his driver’s room, never once bothering to fix his hair when you had been the one to grab onto it so tightly.
People wouldn’t think that of him, after all. 
You love to be loved. 
Your eyes are brimming with tears as you reach Parc Fermé, Carlos finally catching up with you, standing right behind you at the barrier, eyes transfixed onto his teammate, standing atop of his livery, cheering towards the endless roars of the crowd, passing a congratulatory message towards his fellow drivers, Lewis patting his back, Lando cheering on his behalf.
He’s already removed his helmet when he sprints towards his team; the losses don’t matter, not when he can celebrate the win he had been craving for so, so long. There are praises passed, pats on the back as he works his way down the winding line of his team, red in their clothes and their cheeks, it means the world to everybody. 
And then, Charles is facing you, his wife. He’s so transfixed upon your gaze, the sheer elation you have for his victory that he doesn’t stop to think when he takes two of his hands on either side of your face, cradling your cheeks as he presses his lips to yours, grinning into such a sweet kiss that you can’t help but kiss him back. 
“I told you.” He whispers when he pulls away from you, resting a gentle hand on your cheek for just a moment. His eyes finally turned to where his teammate was standing. Both of them have to forge a smile as they reach out to clasp hands, a firm grip in celebration of scoring points for their team. 
You don’t see him again, not until he’s left the cool-down room and is bounding towards the podium. Carlos, having not been called to his post-race interview yet, still stood behind you, though one hand had snaked its way around your waist, as if it had to be there. Nobody notices, of course. The team is too focused upon their driver lifting his golden trophy, in awe of the achievement they had built for seemingly the entire season.
Charles doesn’t miss it, of course. Maybe that’s why his gaze is so fixed on you when he releases a splash of champagne, purposely aiming his bottle towards the man behind you, his heart only crushing further when he sees the Spaniard pull your frame behind his own in protection. 
And then, it’s all over. Both Carlos and Charles are rushed away to complete their post-race interviews. You’re left alone, simply taking a slow walk towards the Ferrari Hospitality. Even as you pace through the crowds, you can’t help but feel…sick. Dizzy. Out-of-body. 
You cared for your husband greatly, and somewhere during it all, you believed his apology was genuine, that he truly wanted to fix the previous mistakes of the year. But how long would his tether last until his mistress came trailing back, regardless of a court ruling?
And Carlos. The sweet man who had proved to you time and time again, you were worth more than a simple name on a piece of paper. He’d been your soul, you truly were set to drop an entire marriage to live in his arms until his blonde counterpart came along, a knife to the chest after one of the most intimate nights you could fathom. 
Your breathing gets faster, the world begins to turn on an axis. From somewhere, you hear a voice asking if you’re okay, if you need help getting back to the hospitality. And then, the world goes black, your body slumps to the floor of the paddock, with only one sentence drifting through your unconscious mind.
Who do you love? 
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ganondoodle · 1 month ago
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(OC Lore and design time!)
(it got longer again ... sorry ... idk how to make things short, i just need to talk, but i guess if you can read the written stuff in the pic thats the barest bare bones of what i wrote here)
i was asked what new lore story stuff i had thought about that made me sad which i mentioned a bit ago, and while that is too hard to explain given all the missing context i thought i could at least talk about lore having to do with it :D
so, (Lord) Eadrya is one of my fav OCs (big blue lad, here a rough sketch in humanoid form) they are both one of if not THE most powerful demon alive and the most battle trained;
at the mid point of the story the demon world gets invaded by the celestials (the angel inspired things i talked about in the previous lore post with Xaror) and Shargon, as the king, should be their first and only frontline, but at this point his life is only being sustained by maschinery after being mortally wounded, he cannot fight (he realizes what is going on, rips himself off the maschinery to get at least his youngest child to safety, barely managing it before dying- the guardian, the demons god, takes over his body to attempt to fight against the celestials but cant keep itself alive long enough since its host is already dead) Eadrya takes the role of the frontline fighter (despite being very full of themselves and aggressive they care about their 'job' of protecting their own, also giving them the chance to show off just how strong they are); the fight was going well for them all things considered, but when the guardian activates it drains the power of all elemental lords (which Eadrya is one of, and since they have the most strength it also takes the most from them), so much so that they lose the fight and suffer deadly wounds (the worst being a spear through the chest made of a material that grows hard, root-like formations when in contact with demonic blood like a fungus but worse, also stopping any self healing processes) after the guardian falls apart it creates a huge shockwave of energy that stuns every living thing within a certain distance and possibly more-
Eadrya (in true demon form, so like a blue whale in size at least) was likely taken through an active gateway to the human world in a large tidal wave also created by the guardians fall; they wash up in the harbor of a small secluded village, the head of which is 'lady 13'; although never having seen a demon before and everyone being afraid (largely thinking its a strange hurt animal, only she suspected otherwise), they still gather all villagers to pull out the celestial spear, which is diffcult and brutal given that its already taken root, but the village lacked both knowledge and means to help any other way- doing so damaged their heart which is how they were able to collect samples of all three demonic blood types ('normal' -red like humans-, energy -essentially purely magic- and heartblood -highly concentrated energy only found within the heart of a demon and the only one to contain genetic material) (this is the start of Eadryas character arc, having to deal with the fact that their world is likely destroyed, them failing what they didnt think they could fail, having lost a battle so badly (even if not really their fault) for the first time and not knowing if literally anyone else has survived .. also being now stuck in the human world, which they dont like)
Lady 13 (placeholder name? stands for experiment 13) is a human that was tricked by demon hunters to enroll into a series of experiments trying to create hybrids of demons and humans, which they hoped would be powerful and easily controllable tools for their endeavours, though the two are inherently not compatible, they tried grafting body parts of demons on humans to make them compatible- all experiments failed except for her, more or less, though she never got to see the hybrid she carried and was then told it had died too, they threw her out believing she wouldnt survive much longer either and all such experiments were cancelled due to the high cost of human life, research material (demons are still rare) and upkeep with no successful results Lady 13 survived though (perhaps even via the pirates picking her up?) and she ended up living in said small village far away, hiding her half demonic body, though most know there soemthing 'wrong' with her (her being this tall when it doesnt fit the rest for one), only few know the full extent; she enjoys the life she has now, perhaps on the more poor side but safer and more loved than ever before; she largely lead the efforts to try and help Eadrya when they ended up in the harbor, though there wasnt that much anyone could do it was still enough- they leave immediately after waking up, but return after really having nowhere to go and struggling to deal with everything that has happened; over time (probably years) they start to open up towards the people there (though not .. very much) enough to get rather close with Lady 13 too- she actually falls madly in love but after Eadrya (extremely aro/ace) rejects all her attempts quite clearly she respects their boundaries
However, after hearing news of potential demon sightings Eadrya decides to leave in hopes of not being the last demon left after all; Lady 13 then decides to reveal her secret to them (though hearing and seeing what lengths hunters would go to for their experiments makes them absolutely seething with rage- she insists on not being out for revenge) and asks if they would be willing to donate a small amount of heartblood; shes always wanted to be a mother but is now incompatible with humans too- through things she picked up back at the experiments facillity, hers and her doctors research she is sure that is all that is needed, she dares to ask since she does not know when, if ever, she will meet another demon, much less one she could actually trust enough for this though Eadrya hesitates (why would she want to go through the same thing again that didnt work and threatened her life, if it does work, do they want to be involved with any of this? what if hunters find out it worked after all?) but after her ensuring that they would have no part in it other than giving up a little blood and would not be considered a parent in any way, nor made responsible for anything that might happen to her, but considering it all in the end they agree to it
only for her to reveal shes had a small bottle of it already, along with multiple samples of the other types, which she collected when Eadrya was bleeding out into the harbor not knowing if they will survive, though not wanting to make use of it without their consent either way (they are actuallly rather touched by this)
alot later the main group returns here and it turns out to have worked (though she is unable to walk/bedridden for a long while bc it did alot of damage to her body, which can heal since its demons parts, but only really slowly bc she does not have a full functioning system and no demonic blood of her own -she uses the other samples for the healing process-) though its a little awkward to explain, especially considering that 13.1 took alot after Eadrya xD (their theory as to why it worked so "well" that time is that even though the sample was already taken, them giving their consent for it still made it less likely to be rejected; demons dont need partners to have offspring, and all can do it, they just have to decide to- so them agreeing to it, even though its long been outside their body, still had an effect on the blood sample)
#ganondoodles#art#ocs#original art#oc lore#demons#monsters#WHY does writing things liek this take me so long#i spent two hours again on this and im falling asleep as we speak bc its almost 2 am#ANYWAY this was alot again ... sorry#but its a relatively new storyline that i have been afraid of telling#since it touches on things im afraid might come across wrong and uses themes im a lil uncomfy with#but i found it interesting ... and works well with eadrya as a character bc it challenges alot about them#yes im wrote and mean this genuinely#i would have made the cut from her human body to the demon parts more smooth ... but this hard cut is the point#so that she looks rather normal on the upper part and can hide the rest#thoguh im unsure about the color scheme and if maybe i should be more creative with the demons parts#then again its largely just legs lol#if anyone actually reads this ........ i hope it comes across correctly#i like to use darker and more mature themes but am riddled with anxiety over how it will be understood#im gonna work on zelda comic stuff again now .. sorry for all the oc spam#but if there are questions PLEASE feel free to ask im pretty sure i have answers to almosst anything?#also i havent thought of a name for her or the kid .. though im starting to like lady 13#13.1 wont do as a name though poor kid deserves a proper name after already being a weird hybrid that shouldnt exist#either way ... going to bed now GOODNIGHT q-q#(any typos are excused by me being deadly tired ok)
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soulofapatrick · 26 days ago
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Bound by Starlight - Cassian x female reader 
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Summary: Cassian shows you Starfall for the first time since you’ve been changed and it changes something between you 
Words: 2.8K 
Warnings: none really
Y/N's POV
I remember the feeling of my humanity being ripped away—an icy, clawing pain that stripped me of everything I once was. The cauldron’s water had wrapped around me like iron chains, pulling me down, down, until I could barely breathe. I had screamed, fought, begged to be freed, but the King of Hybern hadn’t cared. To him, I was just another Archeron sister, another human in the way, and he’d tossed me in with the others like I was nothing.
Now, I live as fae, my once-mortal body transformed, immortal senses heightened. My soul, however… it lingers somewhere between what I used to be and what I have no choice but to become. Nesta withdrew into herself, anger simmering behind cold eyes, shutting me out with her silence. Elain, though kind as always, sank into her garden, her love for flowers the only piece of herself she could cling to. And Feyre… she ascended, becoming the High Lady, a role so immense that I rarely even see her anymore.
Velaris is beautiful, I’ll give it that. With its vibrant, bustling streets, the colours and scents so alive, it’s like nothing I ever knew as a human. At first, I stumbled around here like an intruder, the way people would stare at my still-soft, unsure steps betraying how new I was to this world. Yet over time, I grew accustomed to it, learning the rhythms of the city, the names of the shops, and even a few faces. I’d walk the cobblestone streets and marvel at the glow of the faelights, the hum of the city’s magic, the warmth that seemed to cradle Velaris even on its coldest nights.
But even though I’ve adapted to this new life, I never truly chose it. I’m here because the fates made me, a decision stolen from me the moment I was dragged to Hybern. With no family to ground me—Feyre’s duties as High Lady, Nesta’s self-imposed exile, and Elain’s fragile retreat into the comfort of her plants—I’ve been left to find my way on my own.
Almost.
There is one person who’s been there for me. Cassian, with his easy smile and ridiculous sense of humour, has gone out of his way to make me feel welcome. Whether it’s pulling me into conversations, inviting me to training, or simply listening when I needed to vent, he’s somehow always been there, his presence steady and warm. He never makes me feel like a burden, or like I’m less for struggling to keep up in this world I never asked to join.
So when I hear the knock at my bedroom door, the heavy, rhythmic sound that could only belong to him, my heart tugs with a mix of irritation and relief.
“Go away, Cassian!” I call out, though there’s no real force behind it. I curl tighter under my blankets, fighting the urge to stay hidden in their warmth, in the comfortable darkness. I want to stay here forever, to pretend the world outside doesn’t exist, that I’m still just a human who never stepped into this tangled, chaotic fae world.
“Nice try,” he says, his voice muffled through the door. “But I’m not leaving.”
His determination stirs something in me—annoyance, but also a flicker of comfort. I sigh, closing my eyes, but the silence stretches on, tense and unyielding. He’s waiting me out, and we both know it.
I don’t answer, and for a second, I think he might give in and leave. But instead, the door creaks open, and I hear the heavy thud of his boots as he steps inside.
“Sorry, but I’m not letting you wallow,” he says, coming closer. I peek out from under the duvet and catch sight of him—standing there, arms crossed, his expression firm but gentle. His dark hair falls messily over his forehead, and his eyes, deep and intense, hold that same unwavering warmth I’ve come to rely on.
I grumble, “Cassian, go away,” my voice muffled beneath the blankets as I bury myself deeper, trying to escape the world outside. But he ignores me, of course. A quiet sigh reaches me before he crouches beside the bed, level with where I’m hiding.
The sight of him, even through the haze of my exhaustion, is almost enough to make me forget everything weighing on me. Cassian, with his wild, shoulder-length black hair half-tied back in a casual bun, his jaw dusted with scruff, and those hazel eyes that seem to hold sunlight and earth all at once. He’s massive, every muscle defined under the soft shirt he wears, and even at rest, his wings—massive and powerful—seem to radiate a silent promise of protection. He’s handsome, but in a rugged, arresting way that’s so different from the polished, refined beauty of Rhysand or the quiet, haunting allure of Azriel. Cassian is warmth and strength, solid and real, and even without saying anything, he fills the room with a sense of unbreakable steadiness.
“You can’t stay hidden in here forever,” he says softly, his voice gentle yet firm. The words slip through my defences, wrapping around me like an anchor, steadying me in a way I don’t think anyone else could. He holds my gaze, his expression so earnest it makes my chest ache.
A scoff escapes my lips as I try to pull the duvet back over my head, though there’s no real force behind it. “You wouldn’t understand.”
His eyes darken for a moment, a flicker of hurt he quickly covers with a smirk. “Maybe not,” he says quietly. “But I know what it’s like to feel out of place. And I know that hiding never helps.” His tone is soft, but there’s something so raw in his voice, an honesty that chips away at the walls I’ve built around myself, brick by painful brick.
He lets out a small, quiet laugh, and the sound is like warmth spilling over me, reaching places in my heart I’d thought long-buried. “You can’t hide from me,” he murmurs, reaching out to tug the blanket down, just enough so he can see my face. His eyes search mine, tender and steady, and for a moment, everything else falls away. It’s just us in this room, his presence a steady, comforting warmth, like a fire on the darkest night.
“Come with me,” he says, his voice softer now, almost a plea. “Just for a little while. I have something I want to show you.”
His words stir something fragile inside me, something I’ve been trying to ignore. There’s a gentle hope in his eyes, a quiet, unspoken promise, and despite myself, I feel that hope awaken in me too, as small and tentative as a candle flame. I sigh, tossing the blankets back, and swing my legs over the side of the bed, shivering as the cool air prickles my skin.
“Fine,” I whisper, barely audible. “But just for a little while.”
Cassian smiles, a soft, genuine expression that lights up his entire face. He extends a hand to me, his palm broad and warm, and I take it, feeling his roughened fingers curl around mine with a reassuring firmness. He leads me through the quiet halls of the House of Wind, his grip steady and grounding as we walk. I’m in nothing but a simple nightdress, my feet bare on the cool floor, but with his warmth beside me, I don’t feel the chill.
He stops before a set of tall, glass-paned doors that lead to a balcony, the curtains drawn tight. Without a word, he reaches forward, pulling them back with a gentle, sweeping motion that makes the light of the stars spill in like liquid silver, illuminating the room with a soft, ethereal glow. He glances back at me, a small, almost shy smile tugging at his lips as he leads me outside.
The night air is crisp, and a gentle breeze stirs the loose strands of his hair, catching the faint glimmer of stars reflected in his hazel eyes. “Look up,” he murmurs, his voice soft as a whisper.
I lift my gaze to the sky, and my breath catches. Above us, the stars are falling—silver and white streaks of light arcing across the heavens in a breathtaking, shimmering cascade. It’s Starfall, the legendary event that fills the Night Court’s sky with magic, as if the stars themselves are dancing for us. The sight is beautiful, overwhelming, like the world itself is pouring out light and life to remind me of something I’d forgotten: hope, beauty, wonder.
“This,” Cassian says, his voice barely more than a murmur, “is why Starfall matters. It’s a reminder that even after everything, there’s something beautiful left to hold onto.”
I turn to look at him, my heart tightening as I meet his gaze. Cassian watches me with a warmth and tenderness that slips past my carefully constructed walls, cutting right to the raw centre of everything I’ve been trying to hide. I feel a lump building in my throat, heavy and tight, and before I can stop it, my eyes fill with tears. I haven’t cried since all of this happened, haven’t allowed myself to feel what’s been buried, too afraid that if I let even a little of it slip, it would all come crashing down.
But here, with Cassian standing so close, so steady, his presence strong and unwavering, something inside me breaks. My breath hitches, a sob bubbling up before I can swallow it back. The first tear spills over, and then another, until the tears are streaming freely down my face. I try to turn away, to hide it, but Cassian steps closer, his expression softening with understanding.
And then my knees buckle. The weight of everything—of the losses, the terror, the forced transformation—becomes too much, and I sink, my body giving out under the flood of emotion. Cassian’s arms catch me before I can fall, and he lowers us both to the floor of the balcony, his strong arms wrapped tightly around me, supporting me. I cling to him, fists curling into the fabric of his shirt as I bury my face in his shoulder, finally letting it all out.
The stars keep falling around us, casting their ethereal glow across the balcony as Cassian holds me, his hand gently stroking through my hair, murmuring quiet words of comfort I can barely make out over the sound of my own sobs. His other arm is solid around me, like an anchor keeping me from floating away on the tide of my grief and confusion. I feel the warmth of his hand as it trails down my back, grounding me, reassuring me that I’m not alone.
“It’s okay,” he whispers, voice rough but gentle. “I’ve got you. Let it out; I’m here.”
I don’t know how long we sit there, with me sobbing into his shoulder, clinging to him as though he’s the only real thing left in the world. His hand never stops stroking my hair, each touch soothing, melting the ache in my chest little by little. Gradually, the sobs turn to quiet gasps, the tears slowing as I breathe in his scent, warm and familiar, a mixture of leather and something uniquely Cassian.
When I finally pull back, wiping at my tear-streaked face, he watches me with a gentleness that steals the breath from my lungs. There’s no judgment in his eyes, only understanding and a tenderness that makes my heart ache with something I can’t quite name. He brushes a stray tear from my cheek with his thumb, his touch warm and steady.
“There you are,” he says softly, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. His hazel eyes hold me, like I’m the only thing in the world he sees right now, and for a moment, I almost believe that maybe I’m enough—just as I am, scars and all.
“There you are,” he says, his voice soft, a quiet warmth in his gaze as he brushes another tear from my cheek. His thumb lingers, a gentle stroke against my skin, and it feels like he’s holding something precious, something he’s afraid might slip away if he’s not careful.
His eyes—those warm, hazel depths flecked with amber—search mine, and I realise he’s looking at me in a way I don’t think anyone ever has. As though he sees past everything, past the pain and the shadows, to a part of me that even I’ve forgotten was there. His hand rests against my face, grounding me in his presence, and I lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his palm against my cheek.
A strange sensation unfurls in my chest—a tug, an ache so deep it almost hurts. It’s as if something invisible has been there all along, waiting, and now, with every beat of my heart, it snaps into place. The bond. I feel it, so powerful and certain, weaving itself between us, binding us together in a way that feels both foreign and achingly familiar. My breath catches, and I can see it in his eyes too, the moment he realises what’s happened. His expression softens, the smallest flicker of wonder and relief breaking through his own surprise.
“Do you feel it?” he whispers, his voice almost trembling as he searches my face, his gaze so full of awe and love that I feel like I could drown in it.
“Yes,” I breathe, barely able to speak around the emotion swelling inside me. It’s overwhelming—this sensation of being tethered to him, heart and soul, in a way that makes me feel more whole than I’ve ever been. I don’t know if I’m crying again or if it’s just the intensity of the moment, but I feel a tear slip down my cheek, and Cassian’s thumb gently brushes it away.
For a heartbeat, we’re just staring at each other, neither of us daring to move, afraid to shatter the delicate, perfect thing we’ve just found. But then he leans forward, his eyes locked on mine, and I feel his breath against my lips. Slowly, achingly slowly, he closes the distance, his mouth brushing mine with a gentleness that steals my breath.
The kiss is soft, heartbreakingly tender, like he’s pouring everything he feels into it—all the care, all the patience, all the love. His hand cradles my face, his fingers tracing small, soothing patterns against my skin as his lips move over mine, unhurried and soft, as if he has all the time in the world. I melt into him, letting the warmth of the bond settle around us like a blanket, wrapping us in something that feels as ancient as the stars.
Cassian’s other arm slips around my waist, pulling me closer, and I feel his heartbeat against mine, steady and strong, grounding me. He pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against mine, his eyes fluttering open to meet my gaze.
“I never thought…” he murmurs, his voice breaking slightly as he searches my face, his expression so open, so vulnerable, that it makes my heart ache. “I never thought I’d find this. That I’d find you.”
A shaky breath escapes me, and I reach up, threading my fingers into his hair, feeling the softness against my skin as I hold him close. “You saved me,” I whisper, my voice barely audible, a truth that I hadn’t fully realised until this moment. “In more ways than one.”
He smiles, a soft, beautiful expression that makes my heart stutter, and then he kisses me again—this time with a little more certainty, a little more passion, as if he’s making a promise. It’s gentle, heartbreakingly sweet, every brush of his lips over mine conveying the depth of his love, his commitment, and the quiet, fierce protectiveness that’s always been there.
When we finally pull apart, he cradles my face in his hands, his gaze so warm, so tender, that I feel my heart swell in my chest.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers, his voice rough but full of certainty. “Not now, not ever.”
And as I look into his eyes, feeling the bond humming between us, I know he means it. I feel the weight of his promise settle around me, grounding me, filling the empty spaces in my heart with a warmth I never thought I’d feel again. And for the first time in so long, I believe that maybe, just maybe, I’m home.
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