#son gain packs

[kiwicidios]

‿‿   ׅ ೀ Coming from my mind 𓇻 ݁ ׅ   ୨ 🦷🥩

[bucketofpaint]

Dp x Dc Bad parents with a twist.

The Fentons find out about Danny being Phantom. Either from Vlad or just randomly. They take it badly. They think Phantom is possessing him, but they think they can "save" him. Unfortunately, the GIW think otherwise and want to destroy their son. So what do they do? They erase all signs of their existence in Amity and wiping every article and study they ever had on ghost. Then they packed up and moved to Gotham in the middle of the night. Cutting Danny off from his friends and Jazz (due to her being at college and disagreeing with them). Vlad and the Fentons become business partners. Publicly, the three work together making and marketing inventions. while privately trying to 'fix' Danny on the side.

Danny has to wear an upgraded specter deflector, which is a thin metal bracelet.

Having half of himself offline for a long period of time has been causing his physical health to decline. That and the experiments his parents have been performing on him. No full-blown vivisection. He also gets anesthesia because they believe the Danny can still feel.

It wasn't long for the people of Gotham to start to talk about Vlad Co's new business partners and their sickly son. It wasn't long after for Bruce Wayne to gain some interest as well.

The first time Bruce met the Fentons was at a gala with Masters introducing them. Jack, Maddie, and Their son. He was also able to observe that he looked more sickly in person. With deep eye bags, pale skin, and how thin he was. It made Bruce's heart ache thinking what the boy about Tim's age had been having to endure.

The conversation contuied. Danny nervously fidgeting, only giving curt responses. Mr Fenton laughed, joking about how Danny didn't like fancy events. He excused Danny, telling him to grab something to eat. Danny nodded and rushed away, grabbing food and settling down in a nestled in a far back conner.

Bruce continued talking to the enthusiastic pair, talking glances at the boy occasionally. He felt some of his tension relax when spotting Tim taking a seat near Danny.

After the gala Tim and Bruce got together and compared notes. They both came to one conclusion.

They needed to find out more.

[solkara]

❛ 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 , benjicot blackwood ❜

⌗ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 , you were the apple of your family's eye a rare gem they would do anything to protect but sometimes even the purest doves crave something bloody

⌗ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 , benjicot blackwood x fem! velaryon / strong! reader

⌗ 𝐬𝐨𝐥'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 , benji with the 10 seconds of screen time ateee tbh or wait is it not benji cuz I've heard some people say it's not so plz explain cuz I'm so confused lmfao !!

house of the dragon masterlist

⌗ you were a bastard. born from a night of passion shared between you mother and father. rhaenyra and daemon. but no one would ever call you a bastard. as you bore all the features of a targaryen unlike your siblings. white hair purple eyes. the seven kingdoms called you aemma reborn. as your striking resemblance to your late grand mother was uncanny.

⌗ growing up life was easy. your mother and grandsire doted on you. your siblings would go to the ends of the known world for you. ser harwin and leanor though not your real fathers stepped up and were there for you whenever you needed them. and though you had never met your real father your mother told you that he would love you.

⌗ truth be told there was nothing that daemon more than to be with you. his daughter. his oldest. but he settled for watching from afar for now. hearing about all of your achievements in pentos. how you had claimed the creeping death amaris. a dragon that had never been claimed and was rumored to be from balerion's final clutch. and it showed. as amaris was the largest dragon around. making vaghar look petite. and while daemon couldn't help but be the proudest man in the known world. part of him breathed a sigh of relief that his daughter didn't get hurt.

⌗ life was good. as you grew older tales of your beauty spread far and wide. from winterfell to dorne. you had suitors from all over flock to offer their hand. from dresses to castles. they offered it all. but were ultimately shut down by either your mother or grandsire. even the queen alicent tried offering the hand of one of her sons. but that idea fizzled out after diftmark. though it was still obvious that both of the queen's son's still bore a certain mixture of fondness and lust for you.

⌗ the deaths of harwin and laenor broke you. and after the the harrowing night of having to watch aemond lose an eye. you were exhausted. your eyes red and with no tears left to cry. you walked off to find your mother after having just finished packing. only to find her with an unfamiliar man. "mother?" you asked approaching with caution.

⌗ "my darling girl I want you to meet someone this is daemon your father" and for a moment your heart stopped as you looked at the man before you. you had dreamed for so long for the day that you would finally meet your father. and now it was here you didn't know what to do. but fear not as daemon took matters into his own hands. pulling you into his embrace which you gladly accepted. finally you left complete.

⌗ after that time seemed to fly by. your mother and father got married. your brother got betrothed to your half-sisters. and all of you lived happily on dragonstone together. with you and your siblings going for frequent dragon rides together. teaching them high valyrian. listen to your father's many stories he gained from his travels. and letting your mother braid your hair while the two of you giggled about the newest gossip.

⌗ though there was one topic she would never touch. and there were suitors. as princess rhaenyra had received hundreds if not thousands of offers for her daughter's hand. which she all denied. at one point there were so many that daemon restored to using a large chunk of them as kindle for the fire in their room. claiming "none of those vile pig's are good enough for my daughter" to which the heir agreed. the last thing she wanted was for her beloved daughter to be used by some lord as a broodmare.

⌗ but rhaenyra knew that she would have to wed her daughter off at some point. and that scared her. though her eldest was the blood of a dragon. you were gentle and soft. the apple of her eye and the thought of you being hurt. by a man nonetheless made her heart clench. and daemon agreed swearing he would rip any man. regardless of who. if they tried anything with their daughter. which was easy to say as the royal couple were under the impression their daughter's interest hadn't been caught by anyone. but oh how wrong they were.

⌗ see you had indeed had your eyes set on someone. who's name happened to be ben. the first time you saw him was at your name day tourney. where he jousted against a lannister. and won much to your joy. before going on to win the tournament. after asking for your favour. which you gladly gave. and you couldn't help but blush. as you couldn't deny he was attractive. even if he was covered in someone else's blood.

⌗ and so began the beautiful friendship between the two of you. as you went from secret love letters sent by ravens. to flying to see him whenever you could. truth is you were head over heels for him. just as he was for you. you were two half's that made a whole. twin flames if you will. and ben had made it clear that he would give you the world and that all you had to do was ask for it. a sentiment which you reverberated. the two of you had talked about a life together. married and with kids. now all you had to do was tell your parents.

⌗ but oh boy when you decided to tell them. was that an interesting conversation. your father nearly unsheathed dark sister. your mother nearly passed out in horror. your brothers were either confused or looking at benjicot like he was dragon food. and your sisters were smiling from ear to ear. but after they had all settled down you spoke. and the two of you made it very clear that you were madly in love. and after a few more threats from your father and brothers. a couple more happy tears and hugs from your mother and sisters. everyone had made peace with the fact and were overjoyed for the both of you.

⌗ and within the week news had spread to every corner of the seven kingdom's of your betrothal to the blackwood. and with was also said that the men of the kingdom's morned the loss of the chance to marry you by descending on brothels to drink and lay with whores. your uncles included. but you paid little mind. as you enjoyed life within your little bubble. spending your days with your family and benji. life was perfect. and you couldn't wait for the wedding.

⌗ and once the day finally arrived. you were jittery with nerves. dressed head to toe in white. you looked the spitting image of duty. as you walked arm in arm with your father towards the alter. the eyes of hundreds of highborns fixed on you in awe. but all you could focus on was. ben. your ben. as the two of you recited your vows with joy you sealed it with a kiss. and after the celebrations of the night. and your new husband threatening to behead anyone who dares mention a bedding ceremony. the two of you joined select family. from both side. to join for another ceremony. a traditional valyrian wedding. and as you sealed your love once more with a bloody kiss. you now truly had it all.

anon , May I please have a targaryen! reader, daughter of daemon and rhaenyra, born after jace like she looks so much like Aemma, and the kingdom would speak of her as Aemma reborn, being favored by Viserys and her people. Can imagine her claiming a dragon that was rumored to be from the late Balerion’s clutch, a stark contrast to the other she-dragons, with her own being a ferocious creature of black scales and fire of black and red. While she is loved in her kingdom, she is also loved in her family. Much like Helaena, the reader is the apple of the kingdom’s eyes and dearer to her family more than anything. And when the topic of suitors comes, all of them are horrified when the one that catches her eye is the Bloody Ben himself, Benjicot Blackwood. ps. I’m a sucker for a beloved character whom loves someone that is the exact opposite of her 😭💖 Requesting for more familial and platonic fic with the Benjicot romance just maybe being small 😩☝️

[acotarxreader]

Hounded

Eris x Reader

Synopsis: Eris loves his dogs more than any other living thing and they love him but soon his eldest hound has found a new interest, you and your endless supply of bread rolls. An unlikely friendship begins to form between the Son of Autumn and one of Springs last border guards, Craos is just hoping to create some sort of parent trap situation.

Warning: Fluff, banter, blood, wounds, doggos, Eris shaming the dogs belly, poor editing

A/N: Hi friends! I orginally wrote this for @erisweekofficial for the Hounds theme however I've been really in the trenches recently and only got around to finishing it now, so I'm sad to have missed Eris week but still happy to be publishing my first Eris fic! Let me know what you think!

P.S Craos (cray-us) in Irish means blazing when referring to fire and Tine (tin-ah) means fire so I named two of the dogs after these words for a lil Irish flare

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

The hounds were Eris’s greatest pride and occasionally his greatest pain in the ass. He fought with this very thought the day his eldest hound, Craos had managed to dip out of his view one walk. Eris blamed himself for losing sight of his favourite friend, so deep in the thoughts of worry about the Night Courts antics that threatened to expose his double agent status to his father. Actually, he blamed them for her escape, it was easier that way. The Autumn leaves crackled against the weight of his heavy boots, his voice getting lost in the whipping whirling wind of the forest far from his residence. Eris swung harshly around on his heels, just in time to catch Craos bounding up the hill towards him, mischievous as ever. 

“You scared me half to death girl” He laughed down at her, running his thumbs over her ears in soothing circles she loved so much, his other hounds leaping around waiting for their turn. She seemed to wish to pull him in the direction she bolted from, something tethering her to the distant spot in the vast woods. “Come girl, leave that hare to its escape love, you’re getting…fluffy enough without the extra feed” he laughed, leashing her to him and taking her from her pointed stance. Eris made a mental note to closely monitor Craos food as she began to get rounder than the others in the pack, no doubt owing to the budding Autumn wildlife she’d snag unaccompanied.

-

The following weeks lead Eris down a rabbit hole of Night Court intricacy, forever walking the line between ally and babysitter. He took comfort in the daily strolls through the thicket of woodland, his beloved pack in toe. The days he missed the walks he noticed his own demeanour change, his interest in the tangled interpersonal mess the Inner Circle was weaving waning beyond even an ounce of interest. Eris checked his hounds daily and despite their own vast staff, he loved to take care of them and nurture the breed while nurturing something he wasn’t even sure he still had inside himself. Some care for another living thing. Not in a selfish way of course, but more in a self-preservation sense, what he loved had a habit of crumbling in his hands or being crushed in someone else’s. 

Deep in thought, Eris ran a hand down the head of one of his younger hounds, Tine, who laid his head on the lap of his master as Eris tried to gain an understanding of the written correspondence on the desk. Tine grumbled against Eris’s thigh before stretching down to the ground. 

“Its tough work being pampered Tine” he laughed to himself, casting an eye on the other 4 hounds, curled into their own worlds by the fire of the study. Eris smiled softly at the relaxed nature, would any other living thing find such comfort in the company he provided? He forced the ever-present question away from his thoughts, casting a look to the sofa where Craos would often take her rest. Empty. Eris stood abruptly, chair screeching along the slate enough to have Tine stand to attention once again. Craos had been there when the others came in from their dinner? Hadn’t she? Another attempt by the Night Court to swipe away Eris’s attention buried him in paperwork when the dogs were returned to him. 

Quick on his feet, Eris and his pack found the staff of the kennels and after a brief and sharp discussion it was unclear if Craos was with the pack on return from her exercise. Following sharp threats, Eris took to the woodland again, his hounds hunting down their own with precision. His voice reverberated off ancient trees as their crisp golden leaves began to ink with lush green colour. Thoughts of the worst clouded the shrubbed path as Eris felt the border of Spring, his second least favourite place in the realm.

“Craos!” He echoed across a section of the stream border between Spring and Autumn. The mischievous hound leapt with excitement at the presence of her master, bounding through the shallow stream to return to Autumn and its son. He gave thanks for Spring's current instability as during time previous he wouldn’t have gotten this close to the Spring border without a visit from the furry High Lord. Eris couched into the silt of the streams bank, rubbing Craos's goofy face while quietly scolding her, knowing full well she wasn’t listening. 

“Petal” Eris looked up from the rushes towards the call of the sing-song siren-like voice. Not in the mood for confrontation with Spring, Eris crouched further into the brambles, obscuring himself from the female across the watery border. Craos pulled against Eris’s gentle hold, eager to cross the border again and succeed with another call from the voice. Eris watched the most feared hound in all the realm, leap like a bunny rabbit to your shadow, jumping to lick your face as you crouched to allow her. 

“Petal darling easy” You laughed, coating the clearing in an ease unfamiliar to Eris. through the thick river rushes Eris watched his much-revered hound roll to her back for scratches before leaping up to follow your hand as it dug through your bag. 

“Okay, sit now” you laughed, Craos eagerly obeying and happily rewarded with a small bread roll you took from your bag. 

“Easy easy” You beamed as she scoffed the lot, Eris watched the interaction with equal parts confusion and intrigue and at that very moment realised the most feared son in all the realm was acting like a bunny rabbit hiding from a fox in the rushes. That very son shot upright quickly from his burrow, causing you to leap slightly with fright as Eris pulled his shoulders back in a more becoming stance. The both of you looked across the crystal-like stream, Craos jumping at your feet eager to resume your undivided attention. 

“Come” Eris called across the rushing water, only to have Craos not respond to him with obedience. You slowly ran your hand down the hounds head, not taking your eyes from the High Lord’s son. 

“Forgive me sir but you have no business this close to the Spring border” You tried your best to project confidence, it slipping from your grasp in the face of Eris’s heated stare. 

“You’re forgive” You fought hard to not roll your eyes at the obvious display of sarcasm. Eris lightly tapped his side, Craos’ ears snapping forward to attention before bounding across the stream to her master.

“Good”

“Don’t hurt her, she’s only coming home” You walked to the bank's edge, eyes scanning Craos for any sign of distress.

“Home?-” Eris found it hard to muffle his confused chuckle “-she is my hound, property of the Autumn Court-”

“Property!?-” You found the full strength in your voice “-she is a living being and she belongs to Prythian, she is more at home in the forest and with me-”

“-And who exactly are you?” Eris was quickly losing patience as Craos seemingly shrunk in stature at her master's strengthening tone. 

“It matters little, leave the dog and return away from my border-”

“-Orders?” Eris’s laugh filled the clearing, his heavy boots now stalking closer to the perimeter “-I will not take orders from anyone.”

“I hear you take orders from the Night Court” You laughed, it now skirting along Eris’s nerves instead of soothing them. 

“I do no such thing” The river water’s temperature began to rise as the son of the flame began to stalk closer. 

“Really? I heard you even bend over when dear Rhysie asks” You laughed again, Eris now causing the very edge of the river to steam. You raised a hand before his boot fully slid into the refreshing stream, a long wall of water dividing up the middle of the lake, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Ah ah-” you shook your finger towards him “-fire and water don’t mix sir” Craos ears pinned back at your words before she looked between the two of you, unsure of her own next move. 

“Your name, tell me your name” He chewed out, examining the translucent wall in front of him for cracks. 

“YN, the last keeper of my Court’s boarders” You smiled so innocently, it almost lured Eris back into that unfamiliar softness until he heard the soft sizzle of the dying flame at his fingertips, it turning to steam against the new border. 

“The last? Perhaps you should take that as a hint and seek further employment at a market or something?”

“Is that where Rhysand bought you?” You smirked, with more playfulness than power and Eris fought away his own smile. Craos leapt forward, Eris going to catch hold of her before she could slam into the fortified border but to his surprise, she glided through it with ease unavailable to him. 

“She can stay, you may go”

“She’s my hound, however, your supply of bread rolls certainly explains her newfound…plumpness” He heard her seemingly groan back in offesen and you looked from her to him. 

“Now you’re annoying two females, you should potentially quit while you’re ahead” Eris scoffed at your teasing, the sound of the other hounds bounding behind him piquing your interest. The four looked to their eldest sibling across the water, heads cocked to the side in curiosity and some form of canine communication. The four followed suit of their leader and crossed to you and Craos with ease. 

“Look at you lovelies” You beamed, crouching to meet the hounds as they reunited with their sister. Eris watched through the glistening border wall, his feared hounds reduced to cuddly toys under your touch. It was if he wasn’t even there. You interacted with them like they were never a threat and never would be, the way that he felt you might feel about him. A foreign feeling to a male whose reputation often goes before him. 

“We-we must be going” Eris felt unsure of the ounce of guilt he felt towards separating you from his pack, some sense of something wrong flooded him when they all ran back to his feet, leaving you alone on the other side of the clearing once again. You looked down with softer eyes to the dogs at his feet, no ounce of fear from them giving you comfort. 

“Don’t make a habit of feeding them all now” Eris smiled, bringing your eyes back to him.

“I thought she was stray, I didn’t know she was one of yours”

“They’re all mine, you say she belongs to Prythian but that is the very land that tried to eradicate the breed” You nodded lightly at his proud words. Silence returned to the clearing only to have Craos groan, receiving a knowing look from Eris. 

“She can come back when she is not working and when I say it is okay but, the bread rolls end” another groan from his eldest hound “No more bread rolls” he reiterated to her, gaining a laugh from you. 

“It's okay Petal, we’ll see” You smiled at her, the other dogs listening carefully and plotting their own access to baked goods. 

“Her name is Croas, it means blazing, a more fitting name than Petal I think” he laughed heartily, the action surprising even himself a little. 

“I’m going to stick with Petal, keep to your side sir” You returned the grin before dipping you head and evaporating into the very mist you built the wall from. 

-

Eris jogged through the vast Autumn woods, desperate to crush the headaches the Night Court were giving him like the leaves under his boots. The hounds sprang into their own exploration, all staying in close proximity except Craos, who had gone to visit you. Over the past month, she began to spend more and more time with you in Spring, even missing a few nights away from home to keep you company. It didn’t bother Eris as much as he had thought, the bread rolls had stopped and Craos seemed happy, he had no reason to take away another living thing's happiness. He never wanted to do that, to begin with, it just became part of his image, his unfortunate brand he couldn’t wait to shed once he assumed power from his father. 

Wartime plans swirled across his head, scenarios of defeat and success clogging his mind until he was snapped from focus by his suddenly wet shoes. He had once again jogged to the border of Spring and Autumn. This was the third time since first meeting you that his feet had taken him where his heart wanted to go and his head didn’t consent to. Unlike those times, however, he found you sat a little way up the stream by the river's edge. Eris watched Craos sprawled along your side, your hand drawing lazy circles on her stomach as you kept your focus on the book in the other. 

“No wonder Spring is falling, when the border guards take such leisure during their worktime” Eris called across to you, throwing his weight into the trunk of a sinking willow, hands tucked deep in his pockets. You looked up from your deep study with a slight jolt, Croas leaping instantly to defend you and sinking back once seeing the perpetrator. Eris never thought one of his hounds would defend anyone without his instruction and yet here Craos was, delighted to be at your service. You looked at Eris's sinking shoe before tilting your head slightly, the wall of water reappearing with the movement. 

“Threatened sweetheart?” Eris smirked, his hands now crossing against his chest in amusement as you stood. 

“Why would I be threatened by someone who’s going to slip?” Before Eris could question further, the sinking willow slipped free a root from the crumbling soil under Eris’s weight, his full balance being thrown back to land on an equally shaky bank. Your laugh echoed off the Spring trees at the sight of the much feared Son of Autumn helplessly falling into the shallow water, it soaking him to his skin instantly. Eris felt flushed with anger, it mixing violently with embarrassment but the sight of your head tilting back with put amusement took it from him as fast as the bank took his balance and he found himself smiling. 

“I don’t know how but you did that on purpose” He stood, a quick flash of flame drying him off as Craos crossed back to his side. 

“I can’t be blamed for you being clumsy” You chuckled, tucking your book back into your bag, Eris catching a glimpse of the cover. 

“I’ve read that, I didn’t think others would have?” 

“So unique and mysterious sir, not like other High Lords” You teased, your hands finding your hips as the other hounds joined the scene, seemingly groaning to demand their dinner. 

“Well, if you would let me cross this silly little water show, I could show you” You raised an eyebrow to his tone of possible flirtation. You blinked softly, a splash of water ejecting from the wall to soak Eris again as he recoiled. 

“I can be blamed for that, little water show” You laughed loudly, Eris wiping the water from his face until another flash of heat dried it away. He thought briefly about how he’d killed others for less and yet no desire to do that to you.

“Maybe another time then YN, I just came for our girl anyways, come Craos better get you home for your dinner” He smiled at the obedient pup. 

“She had a bread roll” You winked before dissolving away in the mist. 

—-----------------

Eris dragged his hands through his hair, his rings snagging slightly on his locks. The warmth of the study fire took away the chill from the perpetual Autumn but was unable to do the same to his sentiments about the Inner Circle. They kept him away from his home for the past three weeks and so kept him away from his encounters with you which had become more frequent in the three months since your first. Still, he stayed on one side of the watery wall, happy to exchange some stories with you across its shimmering surface. Craos was only too delighted that her newfound parents had seemed to cross the bridge between indifference to let's say tolerance. 

Eris stood from his desk, taking a violet-coloured book from the vast library before stalking around the grounds of his hidden home away from home, his hounds in tow except for the usual conscientious objector. The sinking sun reflected beautifully off the crisp leaves of this secluded cottage away from both Autumn and Night Court headaches. He sank down into a well-rotting deck chair, it creaking under his weight as he cracked the spine of the forgotten book you had reminded him of two months prior. It wasn’t long before the sound of heavy panting snapped Eris from the world on the tea-coloured pages. 

“Craos?” He called to the growing darkness, standing to his feet as the hound came bounding through the trees before barking frantically, stirring the other sleeping hounds. 

“What? What’s wrong?” A flame came to Eris’s hand instantly as Craos took the cuff of his trouser leg between her teeth and pulled to which he went willingly. She released her grip before dashing back in the direction she came from, only stopping to make sure Eris was still following. The group leapt over tree roots and mossy burrows, all quick on their pursuit of Craos and her frantic nature until the familiar flush of Spring air rushed at them. Eris’s eyes shot to your weakening body across the familiar river, your groans of pain reverberating off the trees as you fought to stand. Craos met your side quickly as you procured yourself up on one elbow, the mud and moss obscuring you slightly from Eris. 

“Hi Petal, it’s okay” You tried through tears to reassure her, taking your hand from your mangled leg to rub her reassuringly, your blood tinging her fur on contact. She yelped towards you before looking back to a pale Eris, you only notice him then. You tried your best to push from the ground, the screaming sound of metal on bone attempted to deafen your cries of pain. It became clear to him then, that the giant metal teeth of a trap designed to capture naga had found a new victim to lay claim to, its unforgiving mouth crushing through one of your ankles. Eris sank a foot into the river, your shaking hand instantly raising the wall of mist to block him. 

“YN, let me cross” He pleaded, failing to hide the desperation in his voice.

“I-I can’t, he’ll know-know I failed to keep the-the border and he-he might come for you for-for crossing” Your rattling breath only pushed Eris closer to the wall, it solidly pushing him back despite your growing weakness. 

“Let me deal with that overgrown badger, let me across, I need to help you” he continued to plea, his palms flat against the wall of water as the hounds cried out their own appeals. 

“What-what if he comes for-for Craos” You cried, attempting to sit up, your pain threshold quickly being pushed to the limit. 

“Then we’ll both kill him but you need to live for that, now please” His sterness finally had you giving in, the wall dropping with an uncharacteristically loud whoosh. Eris was quick to your side, his strong hands pried open the deathly grip held on your ankle as you cried out in almost deafening pain. The pressure released on your spraying arteries caused a new flood of blood to cover you both, the loss of blood pressure stealing colour from your face as well as energy. Eris took hold of the mangled joint, his hands gently heating. 

“You’re gonna hate me for this YN”

“N-nothing new there so” You half laughed through gritted teeth, it taking some semblance of worry from Eris before he began to to heat his hands to molten levels. You screeched from the feeling of healing flame, your arms instinctively wrapping around Eris's neck to bury your scream in his shoulder. The cauterising was the easy part, the fractured joints and bones not so much. With your arms gripping around him, he sank his hands beneath your legs to pull you up from the ground, the sudden upshoot and loss of blood causing you to lose consciousness immediately. 

-

The feeling of plush fur beneath your cheek was the first thing you noticed, then the smell of crisp cedar and smoke. Your eyes flittered open to the flickering of a well-established fire, Craos lying protectively up the length of your stomach on the oak-coloured leather couch. You rubbed her gently causing her to immediately react with large licks up your cheeks, the other dogs rushing to do the same. 

“Easy everyone” Eris laughed, a large mug in his hand as you sat up from the overwhelming affection. You looked down to see your mangled ankle no longer resembling a horror scene, a pristine white bandage replacing the crimson blood and torn muscle. 

“You’ll be okay, I had a healer here, you might be a bit sore” Eris spoke softly, watching you inspect the wrap before passing you the mug. 

“Thank-thank you” You looked back to him before taking a deep drink from the ceramic. 

“You didn’t even assume I poisoned that, we’ve made a lot of progress” He laughed, sinking into the chair across from you. 

“If you were going to kill me it would have been at the sight of the first bread roll” You chuckled, Croas’s ears perking up at the mention of her favourite snack. 

“Yes well, there's still time” Craos grumbled at her master's teasing, gaining another laugh from you. You looked around the small living room that had become your infirmary, noticing the vast collection of books, wooden figurines of great creatures and general Eris-ness about the place. The inspection made Eris shuffle slightly in his seat until you caught him watching you. You smiled back, swinging your legs to stand again, Craos moved from your side to the other end of the couch. 

“Careful walking YN, I had to threaten the life of a healer to fix that ankle” He smirked but the worry was still written across his amber eyes. You took one or two shaky steps before stopping, Eris fixating his eyes on every movement as Craos seemingly decided to take things into her own hands…or paws. She suddenly jumped from the couch, knocking into the back of your knees, sending your shaking legs from under you. Eris was quicker to react than you, taking hold of your outstretched arms and saving you from imprinting your face on the coffee table. 

“Saving you for the second time” He smiled down at you, allowing you to shift your weight for him to support you, his hands finding your waist to steady you. 

“Maybe I’ll return the favour sometime and not drown you” You laughed again, your hands taking hold of his shoulders for greater balance.

“I have a weird feeling YN that you could save me in another way” He cut off any questioning you might have, your lips meeting his with a delicatness you didn’t know any male could have let alone one of the most feared.  You were suddenly pulled away from him by the feeling of paws on your good foot. You both looked down to Craos who stood knowingly between you both, looking up with adoration at her two favourites fae, making you both laugh. 

“Good girl Croas, very very good girl” Eris beamed down at her before looking back at you again, his new found salvation.

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

What do you think friends?

[azsazz]

A Snowy Starfall

Daddy!Azriel x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Batbabies waging their OWN snowball fight imitating their dad & uncles. Some take it too seriously, others don't take it seriously at all, it's pure chaos that ends in cocoa.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 2,003

Notes: Happy Holidays my loves 💙

_________________________________________

“Come on, you three,” you tut towards your mate and his friends. They’re standing before the large glass windows overlooking your backyard. The sun casts deep oranges and reds across the snow-ridden land, your children shrieking as they play in the snow. A valiant snowball fight is running its course, and Azriel, Cassian, and Rhysand stand, faces pressed to the windows as they watch, quietly cheering their children on. “They’re going to notice you staring.”

“Maybe they already have,” Feyre adds from her spot at your kitchen counter. She’s concentrating intently on decorating a cookie, adding swirls of black icing to the gingerbread woman’s hand, creeping up her extended arm. The cookie’s dress is provocative, bare dough legs showing between slats of laced icing. She hardly glances up as she continues, “They’re probably imitating them as we speak.”

Curious, you peek out the window, too. Indeed, Wren and Baz have built a fortress in the snow to protect themselves from the onslaught of snowballs being thrown their way. Gideon and Nyx have joined forces against the two brothers, the latter packing the fluffy snow into tight, white balls, while Gideon launches their ammo towards your sons.

Your eldest daughter, Zuzu, and Nyx’s younger sister, Asteria, had joined the competition early on. They’d been a formidable team too, but grew bored of their brothers and cousin who were taking the snowball fight a little too seriously. Now, they are in the snow with little Castor, who had cried until she’d been let outside by her protective father, bundled up in so many clothes her wings nearly disappeared into the fabric. The girls are making snow angels, though Castor’s looks very much like a circle on the lawn.

Dark streaks dart behind the wall your sons have built and you frown, watching as Baz’s shadows help roll clumps of snow closer, creating perfectly circular snowballs. From what you’d heard from your husband’s friends, using shadows was against any and all snowball fight rules.

You cut Azriel a glance but he’s conveniently occupied, watching the game outside.

“Well, at least they’re both on the same team,” you comment to your mate, who refuses to let his gaze stray from the little boys. Good, he can watch them while he does the dishes then, since there’s a window above the sink. You pat him on the ass, nodding towards the mess of dishes in the sink. He nods in response, loping quickly over to peer out the window again. “So they’ll either both lose or both win.”

“They’ll both win,” Az responds immediately, a quick but pointed look your way. “They do take after me.”

Cassian scoffs behind you and you turn to see a scowling Nesta shooting him a look as he tries to steal a cookie. Jax giggles in her lap at his uncle's antics, but when Cassian hands him part of the cookie and its head falls off, Jax’s smile wobbles. He’s not outside due to the nature of his powers. As an empath, sensing the competitive nature of his siblings and the sting of a snowball to the face, it had been in his best interest to be inside around the luscious scents of cookies and warmth, instead of out in the bitter snow.

Nesta coos, bouncing him, and Cassian is thankful for the distraction, slipping further down the counter to where the High Lord sits, trying—and failing—to gain his mate's attention. The commander slips an arm around Rhys’ shoulders and glares at the back of Azriel’s head, continuing his complaining. “The only reason you’ve won so many is because of those damn shadows, Az.”

Azriel throws over his shoulder, wincing as Baz takes a snowball to the face, his face going red with fury. “How was I supposed to know they were unaffected by the magic restrictions?” he claims, sending said shadows out into the yard once he sees Baz’s slipping through the snow, headed for the icicles hanging off the railings of the porch. His intercept his sons in a display of authority, spearing them into blackened mist. Baz glances up to the window, locking eyes with his father, who wears a look of warning on his face, brow raised. Azriel watches his son visibly huff and take his anger out on the snow, building a ball and launching it across the playing field in frustration.

His gaze cuts across the yard, narrowing his eyes. Gideon and Nyx are crouched low behind their own pile of snow, looking like they’re scheming. He wants to trail his shadows in their direction, listen in on their conversation, but he’s alerted to Malos’ whines from the other room. If one of his youngest is awake, they either both are, or will be soon.

“Malos is up,” Az tells you softly, shutting off the water to the sink. He wipes his hands on a towel and kisses you gently on the cheek. You’re mixing color into icing for the cookies, getting ready for when it’s too dark out for the children to play. They’ll get all cleaned up and have some hot chocolate to warm their bellies, and you, Feyre, and Nesta have baked cookies for all of the children to decorate. “I’ll get them.”

“I’ll join,” Cassian answers, stealing another cookie off of a platter. He dunks it into your icing to the neck, the cookie dripping with sugary goodness as he lifts it to his mouth, shoving it inside. He ducks under your glare. “Gotta go get my baby.”

Cassian and Nesta’s youngest daughter, Sif, had been put down for a nap with both Knox and Malos. She’s still a little too young to be outside without supervision, and the eldest children of the Inner Circle demanded time outside without their parents, probably because they knew their fathers would try and take over their snowball fight had they been outside. They didn’t want any tips or tricks, not even your children, even with Azriel’s hundred of wins beneath his belt.

Jax climbs from Nesta’s lap over Rhys who lets out a harsh exhale when his knee lands a little too close to his private area, and then over to Feyre, who finally sets her cookie down to scoop your middle son in her arms.

“Pretty,” Jax comments, pointing at her decorative cookie. It looks just like her, and there’s one next to it that looks a little like Rhysand. Purple dots for eyes stare up at him. “Uncle Rhysie?”

“Good job, Jax,” Feyre coos, pressing kisses to his cheeks. They pink with a blush and he settles into her arms, looking utterly at bliss. He revels in the warmth of her emotions, the pride surging through her. It feels like warm bubbles in his chest, and he noses at her collar.

“Look who’s ready to party,” Azriel announces, entering the room, arms full with your two youngest children, Malos and Knox. Knox still looks a little sleepy, head resting against Azriel’s shoulder, cuddling into his warmth. His tiny wings are droopy with sleep, and his twin sister, Malos, is already reaching for the cookies. 

Nesta is quick to scoop her away from Azriel. She claims not to have a favorite niece, but Malos and her have an understanding. You see more of Nesta in Malos’ personality than any of the children of the Inner Circle, and you’re extremely happy that they have such a close connection. 

“Hi baby,” you greet Knox, who is signing mommy to you. You ease him out of Azriel’s arms, who promptly returns to his position in front of the window, pressing exaggerated kisses to his chubby cheeks. It makes him smile wide, flaring those wings that he hasn’t quite figured out how to control. “Are you ready for some yummy cookies?”

His dark eyes light with excitement. Of course your children are ready for sweets, they always are. They picked that up from Azriel, who has the biggest sweet tooth you’ve ever seen.

Cassian reenters the room with his daughter in his arms and Rhys pouts. Almost everyone in the room is preoccupied with a child in their arms, except for him. Maybe he can convince Feyre to have one more. The youngest children in the family are two now and he misses having a tiny babe around.

By the heated look in her eyes, his mate seems to be considering the same, sneaking past those shadowy walls in his mind to catch a glimpse of his thoughts. The High Lord smirks. He sends her over some imagery to go with his thoughts, and her cheeks go red. That hot look turns into one of warning, and she’s speaking out loud now, “Why don’t you call the children inside so they can get warmed up and decorate some cookies?”

“Of course, darling,” Rhys sweeps from his seat in a wisp of darkness. 

Breaking a cookie in half, you give part of it to Knox, who signs thank you, munching on the sweet. The other half is passed to Malos as you head towards where your mate is finishing up the dishes, leaning against him for a moment, reveling in all of your family happily together.

“I love you,” Azriel murmurs into your hair, leaning over to sneak a bite of Knox’s cookie. Your son stares up at his father with wide eyes, and like this, he looks just like Az. It makes your heart warm, and Jax squeals in happiness in response, your happiness radiating to him. It makes your grin wider, peeking over your shoulder to see him so content in his aunt's arms. 

“I love you too, Az,” you whisper back to him, resting your forehead against his. 

It’s a nice moment, until the children from outside are wrangled through the door by Rhys. The boys are arguing about who has won their snowball fight, while the girls are peeling away their winter gear, excited to decorate cookies with icing and sprinkles and the edible petals Elain had given you before her trip to the Summer Court with Lucien. 

“Now, now, boys,” Rhys starts, but the diplomatic tone he’s using does nothing to deter the cousins from arguing. “I’m sure we can come to a consensus without yelling and acquiescing.”

“But Baz used his shadows,” Nyx complains, wringing his gloves between his hands in frustration. “We all saw it.”

“Nyxie, don’t be mean to Baz,” Wren counters, brows furrowed. He doesn’t like it when his family argues, especially over trivial things. His heart is so kind. “You can win the snowball fight if you want, but Baz and I are gonna win the cookie decorating contest, right Bazzy?”

“No,” Baz says flatly, dropping his gear onto the floor. You give him a look but he almost seems un-bothered by it, done with the debate his cousins are currently having. “We won the snowball fight and we’re going to win the cookie decorating contest.” 

You share a look with your mate, watching the scene unfold. Baz is quite the Stubborn Suriel, no matter what it comes to.

“Dad,” Nyx groans, “Can’t you do something?”

Cassian is the one who comes to the rescue, Castor reaching up at him for her sister. He helps the little one down and the older one with her undressing, peeling her thermals off layer by layer. “It’s not about who won, right boys? It’s about spending time and having fun with the ones you love.”

Feyre, Nesta, and yourself awe at his words, but Azriel and Rhysand are rolling their eyes and muttering under their breath at Cassian’s cheesy words. 

“What a kiss ass.”

“Smug fucker.”

“Azriel,” you hiss, turning your body away from him, like that will hide Knox from his vulgar words. “Language.” 

He winces, “Sorry love.” 

It’s your turn to roll your eyes now, bouncing Knox in your arms a little as you turn fully from your mate. You poke Knox’s belly playfully before addressing the rest of the room. “How about those cookies, then? They won’t decorate themselves!”

[written-in-flowers]

His Muse: Demon!Wooyoung x Fem!reader

Pairing: Demon!Wooyoung x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6k

Genre: smut, a bit of angst

Summary: While the masters are on a week-long trip, YN goes to visit her favorite stylist. Hoping to leave with a new wardrobe, Wooyoung has different ideas.

Tags: demon fucking, monster fucking, bigdick!wooyoung, cuckolding fantasy, oral sex, vaginal fingering, mirror sex, kaptoptronophilia (mirror fetish), public sex, dressing room sex, mentions of orgies, mentions/implications of sex, striptease, clothed male/half naked female, mentions of enslavement,

Previously on Pretty Lady > Next

Pretty Lady Masterlist

***

You wished you’d been invited. A “black mass” sounded interesting. The invitation arrived a week ago in a crimson envelope, detailing the time and date of the year’s ‘Black Mass Week’. You’d noticed an uptick in your boyfriends’ behaviors up until today. Seonghwa appeared irritated by the summons, preferring not to go at all. He told you he’d only go because of rules, responsibilities and expectations of an Heir. Hongjoong said he didn’t mind a week of good parties, but he said the novelty wears off by the third or fourth day. San said he liked the ceremonies, yet said the taboo, ‘out-there’ acts that get performed threw him off. Watching San packing for the week-long event, you wondered why you couldn’t go. 

“I still don’t get why I can’t come,” you told him, playing with the sleeves of a dress shirt. “I’m technically family too. You’re my mom’s cousin, which makes you my second-cousins or something.”

San placed a rolled up shirt into the suitcase, “It’s a pure-blood only event, Darling. Cambions and other subspecies of demons aren’t allowed. Those witches didn’t make pacts with Lucifer’s cousin or half-breed son.”

“Witches?”

“Yeah, witches. You know, fly on brooms, make potions, and curse people kind of witches,” he said. “The ones who look like they crawled out from the deepest pits of Hell? Those witches. You see,” he held up two pairs of dress shoes, choosing between them as he spoke, “Witches, real ones, make pacts with Lucifer to gain power-Which one do you think?”

“-The pointy ones. They’re classy-”

He nodded as he placed the pointed ones in a separate bag. “Okay, so yeah, they write their name in a book and are given powers to spread chaos and corruption throughout the living world. In order to keep their powers, they must travel to a meeting place where they make sacrifices and dance naked under the full moon. These sacrifices sometimes involve screwing demons. The sex fuels the energy underneath the full moon that night. Think of it like a week-long orgy in the middle of the woods where witches and demons hump each other for everlasting power and youth.”

“But, aren’t witches supposed to be, you know, ugly?”

“In their true form, yes, but we obviously don’t want to fuck them when they look like that,” he huffed. “Some of them are so twisted looking. It’s gross,” he shuddered before taking socks out of his drawer. “You know we’d take you with us if we could, Darling, but it’d be pointless for you to be there.”

“You’re telling me you’re going to spend a whole week banging ugly witches while I’m here all alone?” you moped. You held onto the shirt. A pale yellow dress shirt, the soft material felt smooth and smelled like him. “Not fair.”

“You won’t be alone, Darling,” he said, smiling fondly when he saw you with his shirt. “You have Jongho, Mingi, Linette, Yunho, Yeosang and your plants. If you get needy, you can call one of them to give you a hand if you want.”

“It’s not as good with them,” you replied. “I like it, of course, but it’s different with you three.”

“I know it is,” he said, hanging off the bed to reach you. “We’ll give you all the attention you want when we come back.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” 

He gave you a light kiss when someone else walked into the room. “Are you still moping about not going with us?” Seonghwa put his fists on his hips. 

“Yes,” you said, looking up at him. “Don’t go.”

“It’s only a week, Kitten,” he said, coming over and kissing your forehead. He knelt at the foot of the bed, his head inches from yours. “I wouldn’t want you to come even if you’d been invited.”

“Why?” you asked, a nerve being hit in your chest. 

“Because then I’d have to share you with other people,” he admitted. “My cousins, my uncles, aunts, half-siblings, and all the rest. Not to mention the witches too. I already am suffering sharing you with my brothers-”

“-Hey!-”

“-I don’t want anyone else getting their paws on you.” You turned onto your stomach as he bent to kiss you again. “So, you’re staying home.”

“Hongjoong would want me to go,” you said. “Ask him. He’ll tell you that I should go with you.”

“Um, no?” Hongjoong appeared from thin air, leaning against the doorframe and looking indignant. He walked around the other side of the bed, turning your head to kiss him. “I only share you with people I like, and I don’t like anyone there enough to do that. You’re mine,” he briefly kissed you again, “Mine, mine, mine.”

“Besides, things can get pretty…” San began, searching for the word, “Freaky?”

“I like freaky,” you wiggled your eyebrows at him.

“Not your kind of freaky, babe,” he chuckled. 

“There’s lots of blood sacrifices, ceremonies, bat-shit gross sex things,” Hongjoong explained what San could not. “And everyone there is in their true forms, and that might scare you a bit.” He pinched your cheek, “I don’t want you to be scared of me.”

“I did wonder why you guys don’t look like other demons,” you admitted. “I felt too afraid to ask.”

“It’s pretty scary,” he said. “Seonghwa is particularly scary.”

“Am not,” Seonghwa flicked his ear. “San is.”

“I’m the least scary,” San said. “Anyways, we want you to stay here at home where nobody can touch you except us.” He kissed your cheek, and nuzzled your nose with his. “And selected others, of course.”

“You’ll be kept busy,” Hongjoong said. “Aren’t you going to Wooyoung’s this weekend for that new wardrobe?”

“You bought more clothes, Kitten?” Seonghwa said in disbelief. “Isn’t your closet full enough?”

“It’s the other half of my order,” you reasoned. “He brought the first part so I had stuff to wear after I tossed the rest.”

“Thanks for that by the way,” he huffed. “I wasted all that time designing your clothes, and you threw them out.”

“You got a refund for them.”

“Still. I thought you’d keep some of them.”

“I did keep some of them,” you said. “I kept the baby doll dresses.”

“Hmph,” he sulked, looking away from you. 

“I can wear them for you when you come home,” you told him, pecking his cheek. “Unless you’re so empty by the time you come back that you won’t even want me,” you said, sticking out your tongue. 

“I’ll definitely leave enough for you, Kitten.” 

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll be thinking of you the whole time,” Hongjoong said, tucking hair behind your ear. “None of those witches hold a candle to my little pet.” 

“Not a single one,” agreed Seonghwa, tapping your nose. “They’re not as cute either. I’m going to miss my Kitten,” he pecked your lips, “And how she rides me so easily. Those witches can’t take my dick like you do.”

“Or cuddle afterwards,” said San, his hand running down your back. “They just move on to the next demon or go back to dancing or whatever’s happening at the time. I’ll be counting the days until I can come back to you,” he kissed you again. “It’ll be agony. I’ll be completely miserable without you.”

You giggled, knowing exactly what they were doing. 

“I’m going to be wailing and moaning for you,” said San, pouting and kissing you. "I'll be in complete despair the entire time."

“Keep going,” you joked, nose in the air with pride. “Tell me more about how much you’ll miss me.”

“Why tell you,” Hongjoong leaned further, “When we can show you instead? Come here, pretty.” 

San ended up repacking after his suitcases got kicked off the bed. 

*****

‘Beauty by Woo.’

The sign hung above the double glass doors of Wooyoung’s shop. Dark purple drapes hung inside the large display windows, where blank mannequins modeled chic outfits. The matching awning hung over the doors with a small purple carpet. The storefront screamed ‘Wooyoung’ in every way. You knew Wooyoung’s shop was popular, but the amount of people walking in and out impressed you. 

“Here we are,” Mingi announced, opening your door. “Jung Wooyoung’s boutique.”

You put your sunglasses on top of your head, and stared at the display. A mannequin posed with a hand on her hip stood in slim black capris and a sequined top. “Looks great.”

“His message said he finished the other half of your wardrobe,” Jongho said, coming around from his side. “But, he mentioned you’re more than welcome to browse his jewelry section. He said he got a bunch of new sets he thinks you’ll like.”

“We can always count on Wooyoung to try sneaking in another sales pitch,” you shook your head. “Maybe I’ll buy some just to make The Masters regret leaving me behind, huh? What do you think?” you asked him. 

“Go for it, just don’t bring up my name when they find out,” he jested. 

Your boyfriends left home a few days ago, and you missed them like crazy. The house felt empty without them. You missed walking by San’s gym and hearing him counting under his breath or taking deep breaths as he lifted weights. You walked into Seonghwa’s library for a book, expecting to find him but finding nobody. Not to mention, Hongjoong’s records or hearing his guitar from his bedroom. You found comfort in Octavius and your plant children, though nothing filled the emptiness like they did. 

“I’ve never been here before.” Linette slid out of the car after you. She took in the display with marveled eyes, “I heard Wooyoung’s clothes are to die for.”

“They are,” you confirmed. “He’s made all my clothes: the ones I wore for the masters and ones I wear now. I asked him to do a second set,” you said, linking your arm with hers, “Maybe we’ll get you some stuff too. I’m personally sick of you in that drab uniform.”

“What’s wrong with my uniform?” she asked, looking down at it. 

“It’s very…” you couldn’t find the right word, “French maid? Like, the outfit sexy maids wear.”

“Am I not a sexy maid, Mistress?” she smirked at you. 

“You always are, but this one's a bit too tacky, don't you think so?”

“Then what would you like me to wear?”

“Whatever you're comfortable in.”

You recognized one of the assistants in the window dressing the statue. The young demon spotted you as she clasped the top in the front, and gasped. You saw her shadow moved out of the window and through the shop as you approached the front doors. Jongho just opened the front door when she appeared before you. Black leathery wings batting behind her, her pale green skin made her violet belted dress stand out more. You noticed her velvet collar dotted with diamonds, which stood out compared to the regular leather collars of the others. Wooyoung’s favorite, no doubt. You remembered her from the dozens of times she’s done your makeup, but you never caught her name. 

“Afternoon, my lady,” she bowed her head, sharp teeth in her smile, “Welcome to the boutique. I’m Kyra, how can I help you today?”

“Wooyoung said my wardrobe was ready,” you told her, searching for the skinny man in the sea of customers. “I was wondering if he was here?”

“Yes, of course, my lady. Follow me.”

She led you through the spacious store. Wooyoung didn’t only sell tailored clothes. You saw racks of clothes all around the store, with a small jewelry and shoe section near the back. Men and women both perused the racks, shelves and display tables of Wooyoung’s fashions. Seeing a mannequin modeling a pink feathery dress with sparkling boots, you realized Wooyoung took his fashion seriously. Every article of clothing you saw was a work of art. Everything from the everyday wear to nights out on the town to elegant formal events hung on the walls. He made clothes catered to every fashion trend and style. You admired it. 

“These are beautiful,” Linette gasped, taking up a satin magenta halter top. “Don't you think so, Mistress?”

“Very,” you answered. “It's a great color for you.”

“You think so?” She held it close to her body to test it. 

“Definitely. Get it.”

“Get it?”

“Yeah, Go grab a basket and pick stuff you like. You can't go everywhere in that uniform.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” you said, laughing softly. “I mean it.”

Linette’s eyes lit up, and she hugged you. Jongho took her to browse while Kyra brought you to the back of the store. Through a velvet curtain, you found yourself in what appeared to be Wooyoung’s work room. A mannequin body wearing several layers of silk and cloth embellished with beads stood in one corner, while another wore the petticoat and bottom half of an 18th century dress. On an angled table, he’d left a current design surrounded by several pencils, charcoal, and paints. You could tell he spent a lot of time here by the used coffee mugs and the pillows on the couch. Wooyoung took his work seriously. 

“Master?” Kyra called out softly to a room divider, “Lady YN is here.”

“Wonderful! I’ll be with her in a moment!” 

Wooyoung led an older woman out from behind the divider. Wearing a close fitting dress adorned with gold and aquamarine gems stood a demon with copper skin and thick black hair. She examined herself in the mirror, adjusting the jeweled strings around her long horns. Her nose up in the air, she examined herself from all angles. You saw Wooyoung bordering between anxiousness and annoyance, though he hid it from her well. 

“Well?” Wooyoung asked, fixing a strap on her shoulder. “What do you think, my lady?”

She gave herself another look over before nodding, “It will have to do I suppose. The gems aren’t exactly where we discussed. I intended to wear this at the black mass, but I’m already three days late to the event. Transport schedules aren’t as organized as they used to be.” 

“As I told you, my lady, putting gems that big so close to your waist could be uncomfortable for you,” Wooyoung said in a measured voice. “If you’d like, I can take in the waist more and add smaller stones? We can add a pattern going from hip to sternum here, see?” 

“Lady Akura is the hardest woman to please,” Kyra whispered to you. “She seduced one Egyptian pharaoh-just one-centuries ago and now acts like she’s Cleopatra. It’s pathetic.”

“Clearly a woman dressing past her prime,” you replied with a soft laugh. 

You turned away from the older demon to the rest of the workroom. On the table, you saw his latest design idea. A faceless female figure stood wearing a violet colored blazer with a pencil skirt, stockings and black heels. It looked classy and refined. Beside it, he drew the same thing in a neon green and black checkered pattern and another in pinstripes. On a separate paper, he’d drawn a group of models in various dresses: a button down shirtdress, a sundress, a wrap dress and a belted chemise one. All of them in different patterns and colors, you saw Wooyoung’s vision right away. His assistants delivered the first half of your new wardrobe a week ago, and already he’d finished the second. Examining more of his designs, it felt like a blast from the past. Your past. 

“Ugh, that woman drives me nuts,” you heard him grumble once Lady Akura left. “Nothing ever satisfies her. That gaudy thing has been sitting in here for weeks because every time she comes, she says it's not right. Ugh, she's the worst.” He joined you by the table, “What do you think? Great, huh?”

Wooyoung wore an oversized purple blazer with a light blue lining inside, matching pants and plain shirt. Your desire for your own period reflected in the stylist’s fashion. 

“I thought some professional outfits if you go to an office or just want to look like you mean business,” he said, explaining the first page. “You said you wanted some dresses, so I made a range of different ones. Each one for a different occasion. I haven’t done anything formal since I prefer making formal ones before the event.” 

“These are fantastic!” you smiled, seeing a crop top and jeans number he’d drawn. “Where’d you get the inspiration from?”

“Just some magazines I had laying in the piles,” he nodded to a door left ajar where you spotted several boxes. “Also from looking at celebrities of the time and demons who’d gone upstairs during the 1980’s. Fashion back then was so progressive compared to the ages before it. There was so much color and fun patterns for me to play with. Like, here,” he pulled up a drawing of you in an off-the-shoulder 3/4th sleeve, “I did a black and white zig-zag pattern. The black would be in sequins, while the white is in regular fabric. It’d really make you stand out. I put out a call to a shoemaker I know, and he’s willing to do some sneakers and heels for you.”

“Amazing!” you looked through more designs, “You should sell some of these in the shop. You'd make a killing for sure.”

“I already have,” he replied. “I have a whole Trendsetter section. The stuff has been flying off the shelves. You should see it! It's all anyone's been talking about, and when I mentioned you'd started it, they became even more interested.”

“Why? I'm nobody important.”

“Did you forget that you're part of the nobility now?” he asked, hand on hip. “For centuries, queens and kings have set the trends of their time. You're a Marchioness, especially from one of Lilith’s children? Psh, everyone is going to want what you're wearing. You wear a red ensemble and tell them red is the new pink, soon everyone will want to wear red. You tell them Diet Coke is the new Pepsi Zero, and people would buy it by the gallon. YN,” he faced you with arms crossed, “I don’t think you get how popular you'll become around here. People will be watching you all the time. They'll want to know everything about you.”

“Like a celebrity?”

“More than a celebrity. Princess Diana, honey. That's who you're going to be around here.”

“Oh please, nobody can top Diana.”

“Maybe not in Heaven, since she's an angel and they love her up there, but down here? Oof, get ready.” He moved a bit closer, “Because everyone's going to want a slice of you. Good thing the black mass is pure-bloods only this time. Otherwise, you’d be bitten more than once.” You heard the sultry drop in his voice and saw him scanning your features. “I know I had a bite and wanted to eat the whole thing.”

“Same here,” you turned around to match his energy.

“You know, the masters put in special orders,” he admitted. “I'm not supposed to tell you because it's a surprise, but since you're here we can see if they fit?”

You eyed him closely, “Did they?”

“They did. They're beautiful.”

“Alright, sure.”

“They're gorgeous,” you breathed, feeling the soft material. “Did they say what they're for?”

He walked over to the rack of bagged clothes, rifled around before pulling out three. You noticed the names on the different tags: “Seonghwa” “Hongjoong” “San”. You couldn't think of what reason they'd buy you clothes other than for your affection. When you unzipped Seonghwa’s bag, you saw a white lace bodysuit. It suited his taste completely. You noticed the snakes and roses sewn into the lace, intertwining up and down the front and sides. You snickered when you saw the ‘SH’ worked into the pattern near the crotch. Opening up Hongjoong’s, you saw a deep plum bra and panty set made of smooth satin and lace. The slit across the bra pads barely hid your nipples, which Hongjoong would love. The subtle ‘HJ’ sewn along the panty line did not surprise you either. San’s order was a night dress of pink silk. A tiny white rhinestone ‘S’ sat right underneath the bosom like a brooch. A declaration of ownership even without the collar. You supposed it should bother you, but you loved it.

“For when they came back from the black mass,” he said. “They said they wanted you to know they’d never desire anyone as much as you.” 

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” you snorted. “It’s a present for me that's really a present for them.” You picked up Seonghwa’s gift, but then decided against it. If anyone knew you'd tried them on, it'd be the one who reads minds. So, you picked up Hongjoong’s next. “This one’s a nice color.”

“Nice material too, but I was working off the top of my head,” he said, “So I'm not a hundred percent sure if they'll fit. You should try them on to see.”

You knew exactly where he planned to take things, and you didn't mind at all. You hung Hongjoong’s set by the mirror, and saw Wooyoung take a seat on the couch. His eyes stayed on you, already undressing you from afar. He'd seen you nude a few times before, and clearly wanted to see you again. 

One by one, you unbutton your blouse in the mirror. When you untucked it, you made sure he saw the white bra underneath. Sliding it off your shoulders, you did the same with your pants. You dragged them down your ass, knowing Wooyoung watched intently. He bit the inside of his lip when you removed them to show your pink panties. You thought he might not like your mismatched underwear, but he hardly noticed. His eyes trained on you the entire time, taking in what is underneath than what was covering it. Feeling desired brought out more arousal. You swayed your hips, playing with your pantyline the entire time. Wooyoung followed every movement. 

“I suppose I should take this off too, right?” you asked, playing with your bra straps. “We can't know the actual size with these on.”

“Yes,” Wooyoung sighed. “Yes, absolutely.”

Smirking, you slid the straps down your shoulders until they tugged at the corners. When they did, you pulled the cotton fabric underneath them. Wooyoung let out a soft whimper once you showed them, biting his tongue. In the secluded room, nothing separating you and Wooyoung but a wooden screen, you couldn't help the knot in your lower half. The workshop did not have an actual door, only a curtain; anyone could enter at any time, which only enhanced your arousal. Squeezing your tits, you teased your nipples in front of him. You imagined someone coming upon you right then, and it added to the sensations. His eyes darkened with lust as you played with them. You could see the wheels turning in his mind; you saw him picturing all the things he’d like to do to you right then. He licked his lips when you wet your fingers to rub on your hard nipple, swallowing when you gave a soft whimper. Once you unclasped your bra, you let him take in your topless form before swaying your hips. 

“You're gorgeous, honey,” he breathed, arms resting on the back of the couch. “Insanely gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” you said, sliding off your panties. “I get that a lot.”

Wooyoung slumped in his seat when he saw you. With the mirror behind you, he saw the backside just as easily. He walked over to you, picking up the bra from the hanger. 

“Let me help you, my lady,” he said in your ear as you faced the mirror again. 

You slipped your arms into the straps, seeing him clip it on behind you. His hands sliding to your front, he stuck his hand in the bra to adjust you into it. You gasped and giggled when he squeezed it instead, ending with a pinch that made you grind against him. He did the same to the other side, this time rolling your nipple between his fingers. When he finished, the slits in the bra just barely covered them. No doubt a way for Hongjoong to suck them without taking it off you. Wooyoung’s body now close to yours, the tension between you smoldered. You did your best to let him enjoy touching you, even if you wanted him to do more, but the noise outside reminded you where you were. 

“Wooyoung,” you sighed as he kissed up your shoulder to your neck, “Wooyoung, we shouldn’t…”

“Why? Don’t want to be interrupted?” he asked, kissing underneath your ear. 

“No, I don’t,” you laughed with the tightness in your stomach. 

“But you need to try on the rest, my lady,” he replied, fixing the bra on correctly. “You haven’t put on the panties yet.” 

Crotchless panties. You should have known with it being Hongjoong’s design. Wooyoung bent down to help you into them before dragging them up your body. The slow lift up your thighs caused a shudder to run through you. Adjusting them properly, Wooyoung made sure you felt his fingers along the lines and crotch. When he stood back up, he pressed you to him and admired you. 

“What do you think?” you sneered, whirling your ass to the bulge hitting between your cheeks. 

“You look incredible,” he said, running his hands up and down your stomach. Not quite sliding into the bra slits, but also not touching the crotch either. The feathery touch brought more chills to your center, which he nearly brushed with his hand. “I don’t know how you go a day without a cock in you,” he whispered, letting a hand go to the slit of your underwear. “If you were mine, I’d just chain you to my bed and fuck you whenever I pleased.”

“Is that what you do to little Kyra?” you asked, getting a surprised look from him. “Her collar gave it away.”

“All my assistants have collars.”

“Hers is special. The others have normal leather collars, but she has a velvet diamond one,” you pressed his hand further to your clit, giving a soft moan once a finger touched you. “I bet you fuck her loads. I know I would, if I were you.”

“Kyra is special,” he admitted, “But I like something different every now and then.” 

You bit back a moan as a single digit toyed with your clit side to side. Wooyoung watched you wriggle in the mirror, amused by the sudden jolt whenever he grazed your clit. You held onto the arms in front of you for leverage, since you thought you might tip over from the continuous pleasure. Wooyoung brought you to the couch and patted his lap. In the mirror, you saw yourself locked against Wooyoung who put his hands back on your exposed sex. One hand circled your clit slowly, while the other teased your entrance. You sat there looking at it, transfixed by the hands bringing you so much pleasure. 

“Like this right here,” he said in your ear. “I’ve been dying to have more of this since the last time. Now that I can fuck your pretty holes, it’s all I want to do.”

“Then fuck them,” you whined.

“I will,” he chuckled. “I will, don’t worry.”

Light and slow, Wooyoung’s fingers barely grazed your clit at times. In the mirror, you saw long fingers running up and down the moistening folds. One hand tenderly grasping your tit, keeping you locked in his lap, Wooyoung kept the same pace the entire time. You bit down on your lip to keep from being too loud, especially with all the people outside, but the hand threatened to break that. You gripped the sides of the couch each time his finger “accidentally” slipped inside you, nails scratching the suede fabric. You couldn’t stop staring. Your vision lined up each emotion with what he was doing to you: zigzags on your clit, fingers pushing deep inside before coming back out, and rolling your nipple painted a sinful image. When he finally slid them back in, you saw how your body adjusted to them. His palm grinding into your clit, the digits in your pussy pushed right to the soft center.

“Fuck!” you cried, knees lifting up at the intense pressure.

“Quiet, my lady,” Wooyoung whispered, “Someone might hear us and come in here. I’d hate to have to stop now. Not when you’re so wet,” he emphasized this with a few quick brushes on your clit before fingering you again.

You knew he was right. Wetting the opposite hand with your juices, Wooyoung pushed the wet fingers past your lips. Sucking on them firmly, he moaned seeing you suck them while he fingered you. You couldn’t stop yourself from whimpering too loudly when both hands sunk deep and wriggled around. Eventually, Wooyoung quickened his fingers until you shook in his embrace. The constant pressure of his fingertips pressing your core soon had you quaking, unable to push upwards or grab his hand to use it yourself. The position compromised you in so many ways, but you couldn’t look away from the mirror. 

Having gone so long without San, Seonghwa or Hongjoong made you desperate for something, anything. You missed Seonghwa’s smug smirk when you came over his hand and San’s gentle kisses as he slowly fucked into you. Not having Hongjoong tying you to his bed and edging you with his toys made everything else boring in comparison. You wanted them so badly. 

With a bit of moving around, Wooyoung managed to undo his pants for you. His cock, already pulsing and throbbing, stood erect against your wet sex. You reached down to rub the thick tip into your clit, the touch making both of you restrain your moans. Grinding up and down, you slid your pussy over the leaking cock in your hand. You wanted to let go. The burning desire to ride him hard and fast came to you each time the tip pushed to your entrance. Wooyoung released you from his grip, and you took this as a sign to finally push him in you. The moment you both connected, shots of relief and frustration hit you at the same time. The relief of finally being full, but the frustration of wanting more. Hands on his knees, you started off with slow, shallow movements. You kept your back arched so he might see himself buried in your cunt, while you watched yourself in the middle. 

Tits jiggling as you got faster, you knew how much San would love this. He loved watching you fuck yourself on his cock, content to lay there and grab your ass or rub your clit for you. You thought of his tanned muscles, and rough hands. Thin eyes full of lust and longing would scan over you as if he might never see you again.

“Bitch,” Wooyoung hissed, slapping your ass harshly. “You’re seriously thinking of someone else while riding me?”

Your eyes widened. Had you really said ‘San’ just now? You couldn’t remember. Your mind totally blanked, lost in the vision of San inside you. A pang of guilt hit you when you realized how messed up that is.

“I’m sorry,” you panted, clenching around him. “It kind of slipped out. I-I…”

“Keep going,” he grabbed your hair to yank your head back. “Keep thinking about him,” he grunted.

“Wha-what?”

“Think about how much bigger he is than me,” he groaned, whirling his hips so his cock moved around in you, “And how he fucks you better.”

"Wooyoung, I kind of don’t get it…You like that?”

“I ask Kyra to do it all the time,” he lifted you off the chair and onto the floor. Bent over in front of the long mirror, you had a better look at his opened shirt and loose pants. “I ask her to pretend I’m her boyfriend, but she’s cheating on me with somebody else. Do that for me. Tell me how he fucks you. Tell me what he does that’s better.” He grinded against you, hands on your ass. “Tell me you wish I was him right now.”

“I wish he was fucking me right now,” you whimpered, hands curling around the fine rug beneath you. “His dick is so big he nearly splits my pussy in half.”

Wooyoung whimpered at this “confession”. He tried keeping quiet as he started pounding you again. He kept his hand in your hair so your back stayed curved. Your eyes meeting his in the mirror, you kept going.

“I miss his tongue on my clit and his fingers inside me,” you murmured. “He always makes me cum before he puts his dick in me. You can’t even make me cum once-”

“-Yes, yes, yes,” he whined. “I can’t make you cum. I’m not good at it.”

“No, you’re fucking not,” you did deflect from this by pushing against him. Your eyes rolled back at his thick length being in you to the hilt. “You don’t even eat me out. It’s all San likes to do. He keeps going even when I’ve already cummed because he likes hearing me squeal from overstimulation.”

“Fuck,” Wooyoung panted at the vivid imagery. “I’m sorry, baby,” he said, both hands in your hair as he charged. “I’m sorry I’m not-n-not good enough.”

“You never will be,” you huffed, eyes rolling back as he angled himself deeper. “I miss him so…so fucking much.”

“Tell me what you miss, baby.”

“I miss how he kisses me,” you admitted. “I miss the way he touches me so carefully, like he’s afraid he’ll break me. I miss him calling me ‘Darling’. I miss his tongue and his fingers.”

You missed so many other things. “And his cock?”

“Yes!”

“Yeah, you miss that too? You prefer it over mine right now?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you said through clenched jaws. They went in time with his deep thrusts, the motion driving you wild. “I want to be fucking him so badly, but here-her-here I am wi-with you.”

Cuckolding never reached the top of your favorite kinks, but you quite enjoyed it with Wooyoung. You’d been about to tell him more when a voice called out from behind the divider.

“Master?” It was Kyra.

“Yes?” Wooyoung said with a bite of annoyance. Your hips didn’t stop. You kept going, knowing any second that girl would turn the corner to see you both there.

“Lady Akura wants to see you,” she said. “She says she’s just had an idea for the dress.”

“Tell her to make an appointment tomorrow,” he said. “She had her-her chance.”

“She’s insisting, sir.”

“I don’t care.” You saw his eyes fall shut as your walls squeezed him in every push. You felt your orgasm fast approaching, especially with the rug brushing your sensitive nipples and Wooyoung reaching around to your clit. “She can come back to-tomorrow. I’m busy…very busy.”

You thought about San again. Right now, his muscles would’ve tensed, his cock pulsating against your tight walls and shaking from his oncoming orgasm. He wouldn’t bother talking to Kyra; he’d be too focused on you. You forced Wooyoung’s hand to stay between your thighs, rubbing it up and down as you stuffed a random bolt of cloth between your teeth. Using the energy from your climax to bite down, you kept back to high-pitched moans you’d normally let out. In the mirror, you saw Wooyoung close to finishing.

“But, Master, I don’t think she’ll leave until she sees you.”

Wooyoung did not answer her. He only fucked into you faster, using your sex to finish deep inside you. His hot cum shooting far inside you, fingers and cock working your clit, kept you going.

“Master?”

“Tell her I will call her later,” Wooyoung grunted, giving a few more thrusts before stopping. “I said I’m busy.”

When he withdrew, you felt globs of cum drip from you and onto your new panties. You quivered as he used the head to fuck them back inside.

“Master, please don’t make me talk to that woman,” Kyra pleaded. “She’s so mean, especially to us assistants.”

You gingerly moved out of your position, feeling your joints stuck for a moment, then turned around. Taking him in your hand, you slid the wet head over your tongue. Facing the mirror sideways, Wooyoung had a perfect view of your mouth on his cock. The sensitive muscle twitches at this, which makes you take more of it. Little beads of precum spilled from him as you licked and sucked him clean. You’d get a second round either now or later.

“Get over it,” Wooyoung said, transfixed by his cock in your mouth.

“Master-”

“-I am busy with Lady YN,” he snapped. “How many times do I have to say it?”

“Kyra,” you finally spoke up, spitting cum back onto Wooyoung’s cock, “Tell Lady Akura he’ll be out in a moment. He’s helping me try on this new lingerie set and it’s, psh, it’s just complicated. There’s so many pieces to it. I swear,” you stroked Wooyoung slowly, reaching for his balls every other time, “It’s like you need an engineering degree to figure it out.”

“Um, alright,” she conceded, “I will let her know.”

You waited for her to leave, then knelt up to Wooyoung. You considered kissing him, but then you’d be there all day.

“You certainly have interesting tastes, Mr. Jung,” you taunted playfully, removing the soiled panties. “I never pegged you for a cuck.”

He shrugged, putting them aside as he wiped himself with a cloth. “It’s hot to me. It’s cool if you’re not into it that much though. It’s not a necessity to me. I knew you were missing your boyfriends, so I thought you might want to think of them while fucking me.” 

“I’m sorry about that,” you said. “I did enjoy it with you. It kind of came up out of nowhere.” 

“I know,” he smirked, “It ended up working out for me. I’d love to do it again sometime.” 

The both of you stood up, and cleaned yourselves as best as possible. You knew you’d pass out when you got home. The aching in your thighs and knees told you that when you walked back into the store. By the counter, Lady Akura waited impatiently for Wooyoung.

“She could give my grandfather a run for his money,” Wooyoung grimaced. “I’ll have someone bring your wardrobe tomorrow morning.”

“I look forward to it,” you replied with a wink.

Blowing him a kiss, you walked away to see Linette already near the door with a few purple and gold shopping bags. Clearly, you weren’t the only one who got a bit of retail therapy.

“I can’t wait to show you what I got,” she beamed at you when you approached. “Everything is so cute. I’m going to need reasons to put them on, but oh my god, they’re gorgeous.”

“And they’ll look even better on you,” you smiled.

“How was the wardrobe?” she asked as you both left the shop.

“The stuff Wooyoung showed me is divine,” you told her. “Absolutely amazing.”

You both slipped into your seats, and Jongho closed the door. The moment he did, Linette turned to you. “Clothes weren’t the only thing you two discussed, were they?”

You held back your laugh as you said, “Nope.”

“Mistress!” Linette gasped in surprise, then joined you in laughing. “With Wooyoung?”

“He started it,” you replied. “I was fine trying on the lingerie the masters bought me, and then things got hot,” you shrugged. “He’s apparently into cuckolding.”

“Who’s into cuckolding?” Jongho asked, getting into the seats facing you.

“Wooyoung,” you answered.

“Ah, I thought I smelled him on you.”

“There really is no hiding anything around here, is there?”

“Not a thing,” he confirmed with a teasing smile. “So, did Kyra watch or what? What happened?”

You told them everything on the way home. Your encounter with Wooyoung stuck with you the rest of the day. You had enjoyed every second, but you did feel bad thinking of somebody else. It wasn’t the first time you’d done that in your life, yet you hadn’t cared then. Returning home, Linette showed you her purchases while you lounged on your bed. Everything she bought looked incredible on her. 

Wooyoung was a real master of his craft.

****

A/N: One of the shorter ones, I hope you guys still liked it! I did struggle with this one for a bit haha Lady didn't go to the Black Mass, but perhaps she might get her own invitation?

Not before meeting the Queen of Flowers herself, Lilith ;)

[catsteeth]

The Bird & The Dog

Sandor Clegane x reader

FINALE +:✿ Chapter - 20 ✿:+ Gone Is The Cage

Previous Chapter | Chapter Index

Summary: You are the daughter of Jon Arryn, you and your father travel to King's Landing with the intention of arranging a marriage for you. You catch a glimpse of The Hound during your first night in Kings Landing and it creates a mutual fascination even if he won't admit it. 

CW: MDNI, smut, spanking, chocking, p in v unprotected sex, oral sex (fem rec), hair pulling, mask wearing, VIOLENCE, NSFW themes, Sandor “my wife” Clegane, misogyny, protectiveness, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, mention of death, blood, threats of violence, mention of prostitution. 

Word Count: 13K 

As the days went by in Winterfell. Sandor was all the more protective. Like a sneering dog whenever anyone got too close to you or your babes. If you weren’t sleeping, feeding your babes, or having Sandor feed you, you were more than likely apologizing for Sandor snapping at some poor midwife who was a new face. But after a fortnight, you were soon well enough to travel. 

As the time for you and your new family to leave Winterfell, your chambers were overrun with handmaidens packing away your belongings. 

As Sandor entered your chambers, he was disappointed that he was not greeted by you. Instead your midwife, Eira who was examining your daughter, “How's the girl?” Sandor asked in a gruff tone, his gentle eyes landing on his daughter. 

As he approached the babe he placed his large hand on top of her head. Caressing it gently, hardly touching her at all. Though she had grown and gained weight, he still did not trust himself with her.

“Growing well, M’Lord. Her mothers kept her well fed.”  Eira said as she snapped her fingers near the babe's ear, testing her alertness to sounds. “She is a healthy one. Well enough for the journey.” Eira said with glee.

A smile tugged at the corner of Sandor’s mouth and was accompanied by a small sigh of relief. Your daughter seemed to have borne the brunt of such a premature birth. He let the little babe hold onto his finger as he looked around the room with a confused look, “Where’s the afterbirth?” As he asked just as you walked into the chamber holding your son, “Ah there he is.” Sandor rasped. 

“I don’t like that name for him.” You said with a smirk, as you approached Sandor and Eira.

“He’ll need to toughen up, eh?” Sandor said with an uncharacteristically playful tone as he looked at the boy in your arms.

“He is not even a year old.” You said as you placed the boy in Sandor’s arms.

“Can’t have him growing into a cunt, now can we?” Sandor said gruffly as he looked at the boy within his arms.

You gently caressed the babes cheek, “Don’t listen to him sweet boy, your fathers a grumpy old mut.” You said softly. You looked up at Sandor, who gave you a very small smile as he placed a hand on the back of your head. You were about to push yourself up onto your tiptoes to kiss him, but a knock fell upon your door. Making Sandor groan in annoyance. “Come in.” You said. “Jon.” You said happily. Relieved to see your cousin was left unscathed by the war. You wrapped your arms around him, physical affection came much easier to you now than it did before the babes. 

Sandor would have been jealous if it weren’t your cousin, so for now he simply groaned under his breath.

Surprised at your affection, “Motherhood agrees with you.” Jon remarked at your much happier demeanor

“I should hope so. After the pain it took to get these splendid creatures out.” You said as you let him go from your embrace.

“I hope the labor was easy?” He said awkwardly. 

“I believe I told the maester to fuck off.” You said as you smiled. 

“I believe it was to ‘Shut the fuck up.’ M’Lady.” Your midwife Eira corrected you as she brought you your daughter. 

“Ah yes, thank you, Eira.” You said as she handed you your girl. “My first born, Eira.” You said, presenting your daughter. Though you noticed Jon’s confused demeanor. “She was the reason I made it through the labor. And with such a lovely name it was hard not to name my girl after her.” 

Jon nodded, he looked upon the babe then back to you. “Tyrion was right, you and hers likeness is uncanny.” 

You shook your head, “She’s too small to know if she truly does.” You were awfully proud of her already. 

“She does.” Sandor said as he continued to pack away your things whilst holding your son. 

“A beauty.” Jon said, “She shall make a man a fine wife someday.” 

Sandor scoffed as he approached Jon, “A wife? She’ll eat men alive.” He too was awfully proud of your daughter already. 

“And this…” You said taking your son from Sandor’s arms, presenting him to your cousin, “This is Jon.”

Jon chuckled at the babe bearing the same name as he, “After your father?” He asked, looking upon the child. 

“And you.” You said softly, “He should be named after a man who was steadfast.” 

He smiled softly looking upon the babe, “He is the spitting image of his father.” 

“Let's hope not.” Sandor grumbled from behind you,

“Stop it.” You said without looking at him.

Jon’s gaze left your child and fell onto you, “We’ve one more war to see through.” He said with a heavy tone. It was clear he meant the attack on Kings Landing. “We would hope you’d stand with us once again."

“My men are yours.” You said placing a hand on Jon’s arm. 

Jon smiled at you. Looked around at the chamber that had become your own now barren. Stripped of all of your possessions. “This is it then?” Jon sighed. 

“I am sure we will meet again.” You spoke softly. 

“We will.” He said with conviction. He then turned to your husband who stood protectively behind you, “Clegane.” He acknowledged with a nod of his head. 

Sandor nodded back, and Jon left your chambers. 

The idea of war hitting Kings Landing tempted Sandor. He would have the opportunity to finally kill his brother, and take the revenge he so desperately wanted. He tried to push the thoughts out of his mind as he continued to pack away your things, though he was unsuccessful. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Before you would leave Winterfell, you insisted on taking one more person along with you.

Eira was not hard to find. She was residing in a small chamber that was attached to the maester’s quarters. As you entered the chamber, you noticed how small it was for a mother of two. A warm room, with a You could smell the smoke of fire licking at the kettle hanging over it. You could see Eira with her back turned tending to her youngest son, no more than a year old. 

“Eira,” You said warmly, announcing your presence. 

Startled, Eira turned around and stood straight as she faced you “M’Lady!”  she gasped.

“I’m sorry to startle you!” You apologized as you approached her. 

She breathed a laugh, “No it's quite alright, can I help you?” she asked.

You smiled, “Yes I suppose you can.” You held your own hand tightly, unsure of how to ask what you were about to ask of her, “Do you have a family here?” 

She shook her head, “Just my boys.” She said motioning towards the two children behind her. A boy no more than a year of age and the other no more than three.

You smiled at the two children staring at you with shy demeanors. “Handsome young men.” Your eyes then fell back onto Eira, “A father?” you proddied her for information, attempting to see how many people she would want with her.

Eira shifted awkwardly, “No, M’lady.” she stepped closer to you, attempting to conceal her words from her children, “I was sold to a pleasure house, young.” 

You narrowed your eyes, “You are young.” 

She shook her head, “I was much younger then. I ran off with my eldest, when I found out I was pregnant with my youngest.” She looked at the boys with love, “I couldn’t raise them there.”

You felt a sting of empathy for the girl, how could you not? She was a girl no more than ten and five, already experienced such horrors. “Would you like to leave the North, live with your children in the Eyrie?” You asked with confidence. Knowing now more than ever that she deserved a new beginning. 

Eira’s eyes went wide, her lips parted. She did not know what to say, it took her a moment before she eventually blurted out, “M’Lady?”

“I mislike male healers and maesters.” You said much more calmly,  “Now that I am Lady of the Vale, I would like for you to learn from the maester and healers of the Vale. Until you’re ready to be the Eyrie’s maester.” 

She stammered for a moment, “Women cannot be maesters-“

“By tradition. Fuck tradition.” You stepped closer to her, “Your boys would be taught well under maesters of great experience, and trained in swordsmanship by the best knights of the Vale. Live in rooms of their own, as will you.” 

“You’re offering a new life, for me and my boys. It’s too generous-“ The girl could not bring herself to feel worthy of the offer you presented to her. 

You took her hand, “I want you to take it, if you want it.” You said firmly.

“Course I want it.” She said with a sharp exhale, in disbelief. 

“Take it then.” You said with a gentle smile as you squeezed her hand gently.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

As you walked to board the carriage that would carry you, and your babes. Sandor was busy loading your belongings into the other carriages, and barking at the men to be sure the carriage would be safe for you and his children.

You rolled your eyes at Sandor’s barking as you heard a familiar voice call out. “Cousin.” 

You turned around to see it was… “Sansa.” You said with a relieved sigh. You were worried you’d not see her before you parted.

“I do not wish for you to leave.” She said as she grabbed hold of your hand.

You smiled somberly, “I do not wish to part from you. But my place is not here. It is in the Eyrie.” You leaned in closer, “Where I shall take Littlefinger's head for what he’s done to us.” You whispered for her ears only.

She smirked, “You’ve always been a strong one.” 

“We’ve done some wondrous things together.” You said smiling, “Fed men to dogs.” You jested.

She shook her head, “I’d not been able to do it without you. You’d always been like an older sister to me, when I needed it.” 

“I wasn’t always there.” You said with melancholy eyes. You felt guilt for not being able to protect her for so long. “But we’re women now. We can look after ourselves.” 

“I’m not sure how much you’ll need to look after yourself.” She said as she looked over towards Sandor, she looked back at you “Once this war is finished you must come visit.” 

You smiled at her softly, “I’d like that.” 

She tightened her grip on your hand, then let go. “Go safely, cousin.” With that Sansa finished. Turning around to leave you to your travels. 

As you walked closer to the carriage, a young and handsome northern guard approached you, “My Lady, if I may-” He began extending his hand towards you to help you into the carriage. 

However Sandor interrupted this. “Keep your fucking hands off my wife.” He grumbled, scaring off the man quickly. He gave you his forearm to help you into the carriage.

You sighed, “Sandor.” wishing he would not bark so much. Though he was much more protective now than he ever was. 

“The babes, M’lady, M’lord.” She said as she handed you and your husband two baskets. Each holding one of your children, wrapped in comfortable blankets, ready for the journey. 

You poked your head out of the window of the cabin, “Thank you, Eira. You and your boy's carriage is the one ahead of ours.” You said pointing towards the carriage they would be taking. 

Eira smiled widely, giddy with excitement “Thank you, M’lady.” she said with a quick nod as she went to retrieve her own two boys.

Sandor gently placed your babes within the carriage. He turned towards the driver of the carriage,  “Ride smoothly, or I’ll break both your hands.” He said, warning the man. He’d not have his wife or his children disturbed by a rocky carriage ride.

Sandor then reluctantly climbed into the carriage as well. He preferred to ride on his own horse. It was more comfortable for his large stature. He also felt silly being placed in a carriage, a man like him. But he needed to have his eyes on you and his babes on such a long journey. 

You sighed, “Sandor the man cannot control the road's stability.” You said as you tucked your son into his blanket a bit tighter. 

He watched you tend to your son with love in his eyes, “He’d better try.” 

You smirked, “You show affection in a strange way.” You said as the carriage began to move, rocking gently which soothed your babes, “What will people think of our family?” you sighed. 

He leaned forward, “That you have a man for a husband.” he said, and you smiled at his protectiveness though you tried to conceal it. He leaned back into his seat, biting the cork of his wineskin and pulling it off. “Fuck what they think anyway. I protect my own, thats that, and too fucking bad if you don’t like how I do it.” He grumbled as he took a swig of his wine.

You smirked and breathed a small laugh, “I love you, you fool.”

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Your arrival at the Eyrie was warm, and cheerful. The smallfolk threw small flower petals onto your carriage at it past the Bloody Gate. Your knights cheered as you stepped out of your carriage. And the maids and servants within the Eyrie rejoiced in your return. The whole thing was horribly uncomfortable for Sandor. A man who hated any attention by large groups of people, especially positive attention. 

As you placed your children within their bassinets in their nursery, you smiled. You felt warm, your home was now your own again. Not only that but your home was filled with your family once again.

You leaned down, leaning over your babes bassinets, “This is your home.” You whispered softly to them as they drifted into sleep. 

“I thought it would be colder.” Sandor remarked as he looked around the elegant room.

You stood and approached Sandor, “It normally is.” 

That was true, normally the Eyrie was. But perhaps it was the love that was brought with you and your children. 

“Hm.” He hummed, 

You looked back towards your babes sleeping in their cradles, “Strange to think we made them.” Sandor looked towards them as well, “So beautiful.” You said gently,

“They got it from you.” He rasped. “Beautiful.” You looked up at him, “But you know it.” He shrugged. 

“I do?” You scoffed. 

“You should.” He said as he cupped your cheek.

You looked at him with love. “I want another child.” you blurted out. 

His eyes went a bit wide, and his eyebrows narrowed, “But you said-“

“I want a litter of them.” You said partially as a jest, but also somewhat serious. You thought of your aunt Cat and envied how many children she bore. You couldn’t imagine how much love and joy would be filled within this palace with your children.

“A litter?” He questioned, 

“Mhm.” You said as you held onto his chest and pressed his lips to your own as you stood on your tiptoes. 

As your lips parted, he rasped “It’ll take a lot of fucking to get that many.”

You nodded, “Mmhmmm.” You kissed him once more before letting go, “Do you wish for more?” you asked earnestly. 

He smirked, “What man wouldn’t want a dozen babes birthed by you?” 

Just as he was about to kiss you once more a handmaiden entered the chamber, “My Lady?” she said cautiously.

“Hm?” You hummed with a slight smile, all too happy. 

The handmaiden held onto her own hand as she approached you, “A Lannister guard delivered a chest.” She spoke with concern. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─

The chest was brought to the High Hall. 

You began to approach it but Sandor placed a hand in front of you, “Don’t come near it.” 

You huffed in frustration but nodded for him to look into it. 

Sandor approached the chest, and opened it cautiously with one hand on the hilt of his sword. But soon as it was open he released his grip on the handle just looking at whatever was in the chest for a moment. 

“Well?” You asked, antsy, to know what it was. 

He waved you over, as you approached it you saw what laid in the chest. Within it was the Hound's helmet. A large helmet in the shape of a snarling dog. And in its mouth was a silver necklace with a pendant of a woman with falcon wings, holding a tear shaped pearl. “What is this?” Sandor asked as he took the necklace in his hand. 

“A necklace Tyrion had made for me. An engagement gift.” It was a valerian steel necklace. A generous gift he presented to you in an attempt to compensate you for your hand in marriage. 

His hand closed into a fist around the necklace, “That fucking imp sent this?” He asked with anger than began to boil 

“No.” You said confidently, Tyrion had no reason to provoke you or Sandor. Nor would he want to. “Cersei did.” You said, piecing together what this all meant. “It’s a threat if she should win the war.”

Sandor groaned under his breath, “Lannister cunts.” He did not like the fact someone would be so bold as to threaten his wife. 

“She won’t win.” You said, attempting to calm him, “She doesn’t have a dragon.”

“But if she does?” He asked lowly. 

You shook your head, “The Eyrie is impregnable.” 

“We fucking impregnated it.” His temper began to slip.

“Only because Littlefinger was a fool. We won’t be so stupid.” You said as your attention was diverted to your breasts began to ache, “I need to feed the babes.” You said, as you walked out of the High Hall. 

The idea of war lingered in Sandors mind. He wanted to fight against the Lannisters, fight against Cersei for sending you a threat. But he could not push the desire to pursue revenge out of his mind. He wanted to hunt Gregor down. But he knew you’d not allow it. 

You never liked him fighting, and now you despised the idea now that you and he had children. Before you’d no power to stop him, but now you did. If you commanded the knights of the Vale to not allow him passage through the Bloody Gate, he would be trapped. 

So, for now he would need to push his fantasies of revenge out of his mind, 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Sandor entered your chambers for the first time. He looked upon the room with narrow eyes. He looked at your possessions new and old. How he wished he had found you earlier, perhaps none of what happened to you would have. He felt out of place in such an extravagant castle, but he felt more at home here. It felt like you.

He threw the helmet down in the corner of the room, as he sat on your bed and removed his leather overcoat.

A maid entered the chambers holding a number of your gowns that you’d brought with you from Winterfell. She was somewhat surprised to see Sandor in your chambers, “My Lord?” She asked cautiously. 

Sandor looked over his shoulder, “What?” He asked with narrowed brows. Confused as to why someone would be bothering him.

She stammered before spitting out, “Shall I fetch the Lady?” 

Sandor raised his brow, “Why?” he questioned, concerned something was wrong with you.

“Well- my Lord you are in the Lady’s chamber.” Though it was true after a Lady and Lord were married for some time, and had children, they would often sleep separately. Only sleeping together for the purposes of creating more children. Sandor rolled his eyes at the girls assumption, “Your chamber is down the-“

Sandor turned back around as he grumbled, “Me and my wife share a bed.” 

“But-“ She attempted to continue, 

“Fuck off.” He grumbled under his breath. Not knowing that you had just entered the chamber as well.

You sighed, “Never mind him.” You smiled at the girl as you took the gowns in her hand. You nodded to her signaling she was dismissed. As the girl closed the door you turned to Sandor. “Must you snap at everyone?” You sighed. 

“Don’t like cunts sticking their noses where they don’t belong.” He rasped as he continued to remove bits of his other clothing, he looked behind him at you, noticing you did not have your babes. “Where’s the children?” he questioned. 

You smiled, you appreciated how invested he was. “With Eira. She said I needed rest.” You said as you began to hang your gowns in your wardrobe. As you did, you noticed a white gown, simple and plain. It was the one you wore on your wedding, as you looked at it you thought about your wedding. “Could you imagine if we’d had a traditional wedding?”

“Didn’t we?” Sandor huffed.

You shrugged, “Traditional of noble houses, I suppose. You’ve been to many as a guard.” You said turning to look at him, “I remember Loras wanted a large and extravagant one with a tournament.” Sandor looked at you with jealous eyes, “You cannot be jealous of an engagement made out of survival with a man who would never touch me.” You sighed.

“I know. I saved him for you didn’t I?”  Sandor did not understand your friendship with Loras, but he knew it was important to you and that was enough for him to care.

You thought about Loras, and then of Sandor, “You and he were quite different.”

“Aye, he sucked co-”

“Alright.” You said waving your hand at him to stop speaking. 

As you continued to riffle through your dresses, the thought did not leave you. What if you did have such a public and traditional wedding. You thought of you in a much more grand gown, one of ivory silk and a veil made of a sheer and glimmering fabric. But the thought of Sandor being put on such a public display. The thought made you snicker, 

“What?” Sandor asked as he threw off his boots.

“Just,” You tried to hold in your laughter but could not, “The thought of you at an extravagant wedding-wearing the finest silks-” You could not help but laugh openly.

“Are you laughing at me?” Sandor asked with a furrowed brow. He hid his own smile with his signature scowl, happy just to see you laughing.

You closed your wardrobe as you continued, “Oh and our dance! How gracefully you would dance about the banquet halls!” You continued to laugh. 

“Keep mocking me, woman, see where it lands you.” 

“Where?” You asked with a mischievous grin and a raised eyebrow. 

“On your knees.” He groaned, his temptation growing. 

“Oh, you’re moving onto the bedding ceremony?” You said in a teasing tone as you walked over towards him with your eyes trailing over his body. It had been so long since you’d felt desirable. Sandor was more affectionate than ever. Holding you as you slept, being sure you held onto his arm as you walked anywhere no matter how close. He made sure you ate well, and he made certain your babes were never far. However you wanted to feel desired.

You ran your hands over his shoulders, helping him pull his tunic over his head “You think I’d allow for a fucking bedding ceramony?” You teased. Sandor grabbed you by your waist, manhandling you as he threw you onto the bed, and climbed on top of you.

You giggled and squirmed a bit but were pinned in place by Sandors weight, “Where is your respect for tradition?” You teased with a smirk on your face feeling him tense above you. 

“In the seventh hell.” He rasped his face just inches from yours, “I’d kill any cock sucking rat who even thought of it.” His voice was deep and dark. Violent. 

“My brave and loyal husband.” You said in a whisper as your arms wrapped around his neck. 

“Hmmmm…” He groaned under your touch, he could feel his length hardening. Though he tried his best to ignore it. You needed to recover after giving him two children. And he would not give into his temptation and risk harming you.

You however, felt like teasing him, “You don’t like the idea? Tens of men grabbing me, ripping my clothes off, calling out vulgarities-” You said with a smirk, knowing your words would only heat his blood.

“You want me angry?” He interrupted you, as he asked you with a furrowed brow. Unsure of what it was you were trying to accomplish with such a question. Especially to him, the one man who’d kill another man for wanting you. 

You ran your hand down his neck, “You fuck harder angry.” You said as your legs came to lock around his waist, and your lips found his neck. But as soon as you began he pulled away, throwing himself off the bed and stomping off to the other side of the room. You propped yourself up by your elbows. “Husband?” 

“Fucking hells-You can’t look at me like that-touch me like that.” He groaned in frustration. 

“Why not, is there another woman?” You said in a jest. Though in truth you were somewhat concerned about your new body and how he would think of it. 

He shook his head, “You’ll drive a man mad.” He said out of breath, “I’m already going mad. I can’t fuck you-can’t even taste you.” He said as though the words were pent up. He’d been wishing to say them for so long now. 

You began to undo your dresses ties, allowing the fabric to sag around your shoulders, “I want you to fuck me, to taste me-“ 

“I can’t.” He interrupted you and turned away from you, knowing your words would only tempt him. “I won’t hurt you.” He rasped. 

“Sandor.” You called out to him in a sultry tone. 

“Shit-“ He hissed, “Woman don’t call my name like that.” He felt his cock straining against his breeches, “I can’t hurt you. I’d rather die.” He said with his fists tightening. 

You rolled your eyes at him, “Would you listen to your wife? The maester said I’m well enough now to perform my ‘duties’.” Sandor turned back around to look at you, his eyes were nearly black, “So did Eira.” You further supported your claim. 

“You mean it?” He rasped, his voice low and deep. You nodded in return, making Sandor march over towards you whilst he discarded his tunic over his head, “You’re not going to be able to walk tomorrow.” He said pushing you back down onto the bed. He climbed on top of you, his hands ravaged your body. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist once again. And his mouth found its place on your neck, and soon your sternum. Whilst his hands gripped hold of whatever they could through your dress. 

“Fuck.” You moaned, “I missed your hands on me so terribly.” You said with closed eyes as your words were drawing out slowly. Your nails gripped onto his strong back. 

Suddenly he pulled his mouth from your neck, loosened his grip. He pushed himself off of you, his eyes wide. He pulled you off the bed, making you stand in front of him before he laid back onto it. Propping himself up on his elbows to watch you, “Strip for me.” He commanded, his voice was deep and husky. 

You stood there, somewhat uncomfortable. You felt red heat slash across your cheeks, “Sandor-“

“Never mind any of that shit you think about your body.” He groaned, pulling his breeches and small clothes down with one swift movement, you didn’t hide your gaze as you looked at his hard thick cock. Red and already glisting with precum, “Fuck, I’ve been going mad without it.” You were unable to move as you felt heat begin to pool in your core, “Do you want me to beg is that it?” Sandor groaned, “Please,” He said as he gripped onto his cock stroking it slowly, “Please… I’m going fucking mad..” He groaned almost pathetically. 

You wanted to feel desired, and Sandor more than satisfied that want. 

Your gown was hanging around your shoulders, the laces were halfway done already. You began to undo them slowly. You turned away from him and looked at him over your shoulder as you slipped the gown lower and lower. He groaned in pleasure watching you. As your gown dropped, fabric pooling around your feet, leaving you in a shift. You turned back to him as you pulled the shift over your head. Leaving you in your thigh stockings. 

Sandor continued to groan as you stepped towards him, now both of you naked and wanting. You placed your foot on his inner thigh, making his hiss. Then you pulled the ribbon from around your thigh, then rolling your stocking down your legs. “Seven fucking hells, woman.” He groaned as you continued to do the same with your other stocking. 

You grabbed hold of his wrist, making him release his grip on his cock, “Hands off what's mine.” You commanded him, and though surprised by your sudden confidence, he felt his cock twitch under your authority. He smirked up at you as you straddled him.  

“Do not be gentle with me.” You commanded firmly, pulling his hair back, making him look up at you.

“Don’t know if I could be.” He nearly panted, cunt struck and in awe of you.

One of his hands wrapped around your throat, and the other gripped roughly onto your hip. In one swift movement he flipped you onto your back, his hand still around your throat. “Open your mouth.” He rasped, his voice heavy with lust. 

You did as he asked, sticking your tongue out as you looked up at him with an equally lustful gaze. His grip on your throat tightened as he spit into your mouth. It felt filthy and degraded, and you loved it. 

“Swallow it.” He rasped, and once again you obeyed happily. He groaned at the sight, his grip on your throat tightened for just a moment making you gasp. “I’m going to take my time with you.” His thumb rubbed up and down your throat roughly. “Been denied of what I need for too long.” 

He hesitated for a moment. As if he were waiting for your say so. You nodded slowly, your eyes fixated on his face. His mind was overtaken by his lust and his face gave it away. His eyes were nearly black and he couldn’t stop biting his lip. “I want it.” You whined. 

And with that, Sandor pushed you back against the mattress. He pinned your hips down by locking his around them. The hot air of his breath hit your bare cunt, making you shutter. It has been so long since you’d felt it, you instinctively closed your thighs but Sandor only needed one hand to pry them open with ease.  

“I told you-” He rasped as he bit your inner thigh making you squeal “I’m going to take my time.” He finished as he spit on your cunt making you jump. He wasted no time lapping at your folds as if he were starved. 

He pushed his face as closely to your cunt as he could, hardly able to breathe. His tongue spent so much time on your clit. Sucking on it and watching your reaction to it. Sandor then bit down on it, not hard, but enough to make you gasp and grab ahold of his hair roughly. You looked down at him with shock, 

“Again.” You commanded and he happily obeyed. Sucking on your clit, soothing it before he bit down again, a cycle he repeated until he felt your release coming. The sounds of your moans hit the stone walls of your chamber in a way that made Sandor’s cock harden. 

Your moans only encouraged him. He began to fuck you with his tongue, letting his nose do the work on your clit. He wanted- no he needed to take your release in his mouth. He needed it. 

He let out a moan as he felt it reach his tongue. He drank you in with the hunger of a starved man. 

He continued to lick you through your climax, but soon you realized he did not stop. You felt yourself becoming more and more sensitive as his attention went back to your clit. Perhaps he did not know you finished? He always knew when you were finished, he knew your body and its language better than you did. But perhaps he did not know. “I finished-” You whined, pulling on his hair. 

“I’m not.” He groaned into your cunt. The vibration of his voice made you arch your back and push yourself further into his mouth.  

“Sandor!” You moaned out, “I-I-I” You stammered, unable to speak. You were so sensitive, so overstimulated, you could not think, it was blissful. 

He couldn’t help himself. He missed your taste more than he missed anything. It was as if you tasted of the finest and rarest of wines. “You can take it, fuck, give me another.” He moaned as he sucked on your clit again. His eyes not leaving your face as you began to shake and shutter. So sensitive and beautiful. It was not long before he was drinking in another release of your own. As you laid panting on the mattress he finally lifted his face from between your legs. “Gods, you’re fucking perfect.” He said with a kiss to your lower stomach. 

“Come here.” You whined breathlessly, as you raised a weak arm towards him. He obeyed his lovely wife. Climbing above you. You kissed him, tasting yourself so clearly on his tongue. You pulled him off of your mouth by pulling his hair, he groaned at its absence, “Not nice to keep me waiting, after I have been aching for you for so long.” you said as you panted. 

He chuckled lowly, “That’s cause I’m not nice, girl.”

You looked into his eyes, “You are nice to me.” He pulled himself down despite your grip on his hair. Crashing his mouth into yours again. 

He felt you beginning to grind yourself into his hardened length. And your hands began to weakly paw at his back. He pressed his forehead against your own, “Don’t you worry, I’m going to fuck your cunt. Can’t let it forget who it belongs to.” He began to slide his cock against your wet cunt. Covered in your release and his own spite. He let out a groan at the feeling. 

You placed a hand against his shoulder, “I might not feel the same.” You said worried he’d not enjoy you the same as he did before. 

“Don’t care.” He said as he bit your neck, making you moan. 

Your eyes fell upon the metal helmet in the room. You remembered how you’d watch Sandor fight in tourneys and battles, wearing the helmet. You had imagined him fucking you in it countless times, and now you’d the chance. 

“Wear the helmet.” You whispered. 

Sandor’s face abandoned your neck, and he looked at you confused, “What?”

You brushed his hair behind his ear as you explained softly, “In King's Landing. I watched you fight in that helmet, tourney after tourney. I watched you swing steel in metal armor. I couldn’t help but squeeze my thighs together as I sat watching you exhibit your strength.” You smirked at your own defiant behavior, “I would go to my chambers, and dig my fingers into my cunt. Thinking of how I wanted you to rip my skirts and fuck me good and hard. Wearing your helmet.”

Sandor stared at you for a moment before a smirk appeared on his face. “Filthy fucking thing you are.” He said lowly. 

“You like it.” You said stubbornly. It drove him wild. 

“I love it.” He gave your cheek a sloppy kiss as he pushed himself off of you and walked towards the helmet that laid on the ground. He looked at it for a moment. Thinking of the times he’d worn it before. But as he looked at you sprawled naked on your bed smiling at him with flushed cheeks, he eagerly placed it onto his head. 

He approached you, the Hound. You sat up, looking up at him. You could hear his breathing through the helmet. He grabbed you by your jaw, and presented his hand towards your mouth, “Spit.” he commanded gruffly. You did as he asked, spitting into his hand. He used your spit to stroke his cock, the sight made you bite your lip and moan. “On your hands and knees.” He commanded as his hand went to your hip, flipping you onto your stomach. It made your cheeks even redder. 

He landed a hard spank onto your ass, making you hiss and whine. Fuck you loved it. You pushed yourself up on your knees, presenting your ass to him. He landed another few good hard spanks before he began to position his cock against your slick entrance. 

You looked back at him, fuck the sight was something you’d fantasized of for so long. It was enough to make you clench. “Please, Ser.” You whined, it made Sandor’s cock throb harder than it did before. He wasted no time, he plunged into you. 

You moaned loudly and buried your face into the mattress below you, gripping onto the blankets roughly. 

“Fucking-” Sandor hissed, his thrusts did not relent. He was fucking you as if he would never fuck you again, “Gods, you fe-feel so fucking good“ He gripped onto your hips so tightly, you knew you’d be bruised by the time he finished. He grabbed hold of the nape of your neck and pulled you flush against his chest. One of his arms wrapped around your throat tightly. You held his bicep that tightly held your throat. Whilst the other wrapped across your body, keeping you still. You nails dug into his bicep as it chokes you ever so gently, he’d flex his muscles to make the choke harder when he wanted your cunt to clench around him. His moans intertwined with your own, “Missed this cunt so fucking much.” He groaned as he continued to rut into you like an animal. “Ah!” He hissed, your cunt was spasming and clenching, sucking his cock further and further inside. “Greedy cunt keeps pulling me in-” He moaned, he hadn’t felt this ecstasy in so long. “Gonna fucking fill this greedy cunt til it’s spilling out of you.” The thought made him behind spirt small bits of his release no matter how hard he tried to wait and hold it in. “Give you another child?” His voice was softer. You looked up at him with surprise as you pulled the helmet off of him, now desperate to see his face. He did not have a face of lust now but of love. You nodded, as you felt your cunt creaming around his cock, he felt it too. “Yeah?” He groaned as he felt the ring you were leaving around his cock form. 

That was what done him in. He pulsed in you and you felt the heat spread throughout your core. It must have been more than he’d ever released before you thought. It was already spilling out of you and down his cock as he slowly rutted in you and rode out both of your highs. 

Once he was done, his grip on you loosened and you laid yourself onto your bed. You dropped your weight onto it. Making your hair fall into your face as you panted. 

“You alright?” He asked as he brushed the hair from your face. 

You smiled up at him, “I’m perfect.” you said breathlessly. 

He chuckled lowly, and nodded “Aye, you are.” 

꒰ ୨୧ ─

As you were laid in your bed, naked and spent. You watched your husband with loving eyes as he drank from a leather wine bottle. He noticed your lascivious gaze on him as he handed you the bottle. You took a swig only to be met with a bitter and ugly taste. Your face scrunched up as you handed it back to him. 

Sandor chuckled lowly, amused at your reaction, “It’s shit huh?” 

“I like my wine sweet is all.” You said attempting to remain polite. But Sandor gave you a knowing gaze, “Yes it’s shit.” You admitted. “I had always wondered about the taverns in the city. when in Kings Landing- I sometimes wondered on disguising myself and walking the streets to see the city.”

“That’s because you never been to the streets of silk.” He said as he placed his bottle of wine on table by his bedside.

“Should I venture into it?” You asked in a teasing tone, and a slight smirk.

“It’s no place for you.” He said, just the thought of you there made his heart beat faster. You being that close to such vile characters. “Men fuck whores in the streets like dogs.” 

You listened to his words carefully, “Funny how there is not such a vulgar word for such men. They are just men. But perhaps men are vulgar enough.”

“You’re a strange kind of woman.” Sandor said with a slight grin.

“You’ve only now realized that?” You asked him with a raised brow,

He chuckled lowly, “No, always knew it.” His arms came around you, pulling you in close into his side. You rested your head into the crook of his neck as your hand roamed his broad and hairy chest. 

You thought about his words for a moment, “Men fuck women in the streets like dogs you say?”

“Aye?” He rasped, confused as to what you were going to say.

“Have you?” You asked, your curiosity getting the better of you, “Fucked another woman?”

“I’d never betray you-“ He began gruffly,

“Before me I mean.” You interrupted, “It’s a foolish thing to ask. Of course you’ve laid with other women. You don’t fuck like you’d never fucked a woman. You never striked me as a man who valued his chastity.” You clarified as your fingers still ran across his chest.

He thought for a moment about refusing to answer you, but he couldn’t. His arm held you closer to him, his hand rubbing your back gently. “Aye.” He rasped, not proud that he’d paid whores during his time in King's Landing.

“What were they like?” You asked, devoid of any jealousy. You simply wanted to know how he was with them, was he the same to you as them? What was it about them that he liked?

Sandor shook his head, not knowing really what to say. “A means to an end.” He grumbled, “There weren’t many. Did it from behind, quickly. Threw the coin on the table and left. That was all.” He said quickly. Not wanting to think of those times. Before you there was no love, no real desire. It mattered not. He took your chin and made you look at him, “Then you came. And all that changed.” 

You rested your chin on his chest, “When Baelish kissed me,” You could feel Sandors anger rise as he shifted uncomfortably and groaned, rumbling in his chest. “I thought of you.” You said earnestly, running your hand over his broad chest, “Of how you’d kill him for it. But I also thought of how different it was. I hated it. How even though lips are only lips, it did not feel the same. I never want to be without your kiss.” You said softly as you ran your thumb over his lips.

“We’re going to fucking kill him.” He rasped as he took hold of your jaw.

“Mhmm.” You hummed into his mouth, as you pulled away you locked eyes with him. “But first-I’m hungry again.” You whined as you rubbed the tip of your nose against his. Your hand running down his hairy chest and stomach. Your fingertips gently traced circled on his pelvis. Making his breath hitch. “In this bed there are no trials to commence and no wars to be fought. Just us.” You whispered into his lips as your hand traveled lower, you gripped a hold of his cock, still wet from your slick mixed with his own release. He groaned lowly and you felt his cock twitch in your hand. “Feels like you’ve a bit left in you.” You said with a mischievous grin. Making Sandor groan as his mouth took yours.

So much for rest. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Though sadly you could not stay hidden in your chambers with your husband’s cock buried inside of you. You had other matters to attend to.

You walked with your husband and the cell keeper as you made your way to the sky cell that held Littlefinger. Sandor was the first to open the cell, smirking at the sight of the dissolved and dirty Baelish, “Ah, the dog.” Baelish remarked seeing Sandor.

His eyes then moved towards you as you stepped into the doorway, “I am Lady Paramount of all Houses within the Vale. You will address the Lord Paramount consort with respect.” You nearly hissed as you spoke to him with narrowed eyes.

Baelish grinned at your anger, “Twins I hear. A boy and a girl.” He said feigning glee, until his facade of joy dropped, “However shall you choose will inherit after you?” He said in an attempt to mock you.

“My daughter was born first. She is the heir.” You answered quickly, without wavering.

He scoffed at your answer, “Do you think your son will bend a knee to her? When he is of age, as big as the hound himself.” He said as he looked at your husband behind you.

“Talk about my children again and I’ll rip your throat out.” Sandor growled. 

Baelish smirked and snickered to himself.

“Your trial will be held tonight. If I were you, I would throw myself from this cell.” You said apathetically. 

He shook his head, “That is a coward's way out.”

“Yes it is.” You responded quickly. Sandor lowly chuckled at your insult as he closed the cell. 

As you and he walked back through the cells, Sandor felt the need to advise you. “He’ll deny the charges.” 

You shook your head, “I’ve a witness.” You said confidently. “Someone who is witness to all.” 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

You had long anticipated this moment. As you ascended the stairs up to the throne of the Eyrie. A throne carved of weirwood, a throne you always pictured yourself sitting on. As you sat on the throne, you gripped the chair tightly as if it were a dream that would slip away. 

Sandor stood by your side as your sworn shield. You sat wearing a grayish blue gown, the sleeves were long and draped like wings. And you wore silver rings that sat around your fingertips and over your nails. They were sharp and resembled talons. You sat the throne, not just the Lady of the Vale, but the Falcon.

You nodded to your knights who pulled Baelish into the room in a manner that could be described as anything but gentle. As Baelish stood in front of the open moon doors, he looked up at you with anger. “You stand accused of murder, you stand accused of treason. How do you answer these charges?” You questioned with hard eyes.

“Innocent.” He proclaimed loudly.

“Innocent of a crime I witnessed? You murdered our aunt, Lysa Arryn. Pushing her through that Moon Door as you stood right there as you are now. And watched her fall. Do you deny it?” You questioned devoid of any emotion.

“I did it to protect you.” He huffed. 

“You did it to gain control of me. Gain ultimate control within the Vale.” You said rebuking his claim, “You aided in the murder of my father, Jon Arryn. You gave Lysa Tears of Lys to poison him. Do you deny this?” Your voice was slightly deeper.

He shook his head, “Whatever Lysa spoke to you, in a heated moment of anger… She was a troubled woman. Imagining enemies everywhere, even imagining you as one of them.”

You ignored his shallow attempt of a rebuttal. “You had Lysa send a letter to the Lord and Lady Stark claiming it was the Lannisters that killed my father. You began the rift between the North and the Crown. Do you deny it?” You continued to press. 

“I know of no such letter.” 

“You conspired with Cersei Lannister and Joffrey Baratheon to betray my uncle, Ned Stark. Resulting in his imprisonment and later his execution. Do you deny it?”

“I deny it! None of you were there to see what happened. None of you know the truth.”

“You held a knife to his throat.” A voice beckoned from the back of the room. Littlefinger was shocked as he saw your cousin, Bran. Accompanied by your cousin Arya. “You said, “I did warn you not to trust me.” Bran said stoically.

Arya presented the knife used to attack Bran when he was a child, “You told our mother this knife belonged to Tyrion Lannister.” She sheathed the knife, “But that was another lie. It was yours.”

Knowing he was not going to leave that room by denying claims that were confirmed by so many witnesses. Baelish got on his knees, making Sandor smirk. “Lady Arryn, I have known you since you were a girl. I throw myself to your mercy. The mercy of a mother, a woman with a gentle heart.” He begged. 

You contemplated it for a moment. “Confess your crimes and you shall not fall from the moon doors alive.” You said sternly, and he nodded. “Did you conspire to poison Jon Arryn?” 

“I did.” He said looking down in shame.

“Did you throw Lysa Arryn into the moon doors?” your voice raised and hardened. 

“I did.” 

“Did you influence Lysa into sending the Starks false allegations against the Lannisters. And conspired the execution of Eddard Stark?” Your voice filled with venom.

“I did.” 

Your eyes narrowed, “I cannot balance the scales of suffering. Eyes for eyes, teeth for teeth, Father for a Father, A brother for a brother. You cannot make right what you’ve taken.” 

He shook his head “I have nothing, I want for nothing.” You looked upon him with annoyance, “You crawled out of so many pits that should have been your graves. Not for hope, not because you had faith in yourself. But because you had hatred in your heart. I am the reason you sit the throne as you do now.” He was truly grasping at anything he could. Attempting to gain any favor he could. 

You looked upon him with no sympathy of any kind, “No, I am the reason.” 

He got onto his knees, “I beg of you-”

“Stop talking. I have heard enough of your words.” You announced as if you were bored. You sat up straighter in your throne, looking down on the man on his knees. “You usurped my birthright and were met with no challenge because I am a woman.” Your statement sucked the air from the room. It was true, none of the Lords or Ladies there raised any challenge to the taking of your throne. “My daughter, Eira. Will inherit after me. If I allow mercy towards this crime I set forth an example that may cost my daughter her place on this throne, perhaps her life.” You leaned forward, your eyes narrowed, “I won’t have that. So I shan't grant you mercy. Not that I would consider it otherwise.” You leaned back, “You visited acts of cruelty towards the Houses of the Vale, and its smallfolk. Deliberate starvation.” Murmurs raised in the room, Lords and Ladies outraged by his actions. Though the room fell silent as you spoke again, “There is only one answer for the crimes visited upon your neighbors, and upon the realm.” You stood from your throne, “I, Lady Arryn, Keeper of the Gates of the Moon, Lady of the Eyrie, Defender of the Vale, Warden of the East, I sentence you to die.” Baelish began to whimper and beg once again to which you spoke, “I believe I made my terms quite clear before our battle, and let it be known I am not a Lady who does not fulfill her promises. I’ll have your head.” Your proud husband by your side held a sheathed sword towards you. You took the handle and pulled it out, “By my own hand.”

You held the sword tightly in hand as you made your way down the stairs of your throne. The knights held Baelish in place. Sandor walked closely behind you. Once you reached Baelish, Sandor replaced the two knights that held Baelish down on his knees. 

He continued to beg, “I loved your aunt Cat, I loved your mother-” 

You held your sword high, “And yet they are dead.”

“I loved you.” 

SHING

You felt the sword slice through his neck with ease and you felt the heat of his blood as bits of it splattered your gown and your skin. And with that, you fulfilled your promise. Little Fingers head rolled, falling through the Moon Doors.

You huffed, and handed Sandor the sword. He looked at you with sympathetic eyes. He knew how long you had wanted this. He looked at you as you stared down at the bloody sight before you with apathy. He hoped you felt the relief you so desperately reached for. “Throw the rest of him through the doors.” You commanded your men.

A knight, hesitated, “My Lady, you said if he confessed-”

“He’d not fall alive.” You said, finally looking away from Littlefinger's decapitated body, “Does he look alive?” You questioned as you walked away.

Sandor stepped closer towards the Knight, “Do as your Lady commands.” he rasped before he followed after you.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

That night, Sandor couldn’t sleep. He knew that the war was approaching. He knew this might be the only chance he would have to take his revenge. 

He watched you as you slept in your warm bed. Taking in the features of your face. As if it might be the last time he’d ever see you. Sandor laid a soft kiss upon your temple and left your chambers. 

He walked the dark halls of the Eyrie. Contemplating whether or not he should go against his better judgment and flee in the night to join in the war. He knew it would hurt you, but he couldn’t push his desire for revenge away. 

As he paced the halls, he ran into a familiar girl. Arya. The girl was dressed and holding the hilt of her sword tightly. 

“Fuck are you doing?” Sandor grumbled, feigning annoyance by the girl's presence. 

“What are you doing?” She questioned back.

“Asked you first.” 

She hesitated for a moment before she began, “I’m leaving for Kings Landing.” 

He chuckled lowly, “A lotta names on your little list there.” 

She did not share his amusement. “One that's on yours is there.” She said stoically.

Sandors smile faded fast. “Aye.” he grumbled.

Arya’s expression turned to one of sadness, “I couldn’t tell her.” he understood, because neither could you. She looked at Sandor, “Do you want to come with me?”

Sandor thought of it for a moment, before he rasped “Let me see to my children.” 

She nodded, “Meet me in the High Hall.” 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・

You woke to an empty bed. It was very late, or perhaps very early, you could not tell. You rubbed your eyes, not able to make yourself fall back asleep with Sandor, you pushed yourself out of bed. As you walked the halls, you came upon your babes nursery. You noticed the door was left open. Concerned, you rushed towards your room, but you heard a familiar voice. You peered into the room to see your husband kneeling by your son's cradle. 

Sandor's voice was gentle and soft, “Be a better man than your father, your uncle, your grandfather. And be good to your mother-” 

You stepped into the room, “What are you doing?” you asked with narrowed eyes.

Sandor stood, looking at you with pity that made you want to vomit. “I’ll be back.” He rasped.

You knew what he meant, you stepped towards him, “My men will fight this war. My man will not.”  

“I will.” He asserted.

You scoffed, “What do you care of this war?” 

“My brother is there.” His voice was darker.

“And he shall fall with the rest of them.” Your anger rose in your chest as you realized he was planning on leaving you without speaking to you.

He leaned into you, “I want to be the one to do it.”

You looked up at him with angry eyes, “No.” you asserted firmly.

“Damn it woman.” He hissed, though trying to keep his voice low on account of your sleeping children.

You looked at him with anger, a look he was not accustomed to. “You have insisted I stay away from battles, stayed away from my own enemies. And I did. Because I remembered the pain you felt when we were separated. Dead to one another. I did not want that for you. And yet you are blinded by your own selfish desires of revenge.” 

“And you did not pursue your own?” He spat his words at you. 

You knew he was right. But that was before you’d children, before your life was of consequence. But you shifted your argument, “I have seen you and he fight. When you fought for Loras.” You shook your head, “It is too even. The fight would take you both and you know it!” You whispered a shout.

His eyes were wide, he was frustrated by your inability to understand, “The things he’s done- Murdering babes! Raping women and girls!”

“And pressed an innocent child’s cheek into a fire over a discarded toy.” You looked at him with sympathy, “I can see what motivates you. It will not heal you-“

“It’ll feel good.” He rasped lowly.

“It would.” You said with a nod, “But that is all. A moment of happiness. But the pain stays. It stays all the same.” You rolled up your sleeve, “Look,” you presented the scar on your forearm. “My scars have not faded. My family is still gone. Your scar will not fade and your father, mother, and siblings will not return to you. But Sandor we’ve made our own family.” You said, attempting to smile, and point his attention towards the babes in their cradle. 

He shook his head, “He won’t be able to kill again. Rape again.” He looked up at you, “I could kill him.”

You placed your hands on his chest, as if you were pleading with him, “You are the strongest man in the seven kingdoms. But even still, it is too great of a risk.” You furrowed your brows, “If I could take the pain from you I would. If I could hold Gregor in chains and hold in your hand a sword to do as you wish I would grant you that. But my love, I cannot.” You felt yourself on the verge of tears, a sight Sandor hated. “Drinking, eating, and fucking. Peace. That’s how you said you wished to live out our days here. That is what you said you wanted.” 

“I do.” He said softly.

“You swore to protect us.” Your tears finally came.

“I will.” He insisted softly.

You shook your head, “You won’t.” You looked towards your son, “When I look at that boy, I think of you. I think of you as a little boy, young and kind. Who does not yet see the world with such disdain. One who needs his father to be better than his grandfather. Who needs his father here.” You looked back to him, he spoke no words. You felt so betrayed, you scoffed with tears falling from your cheeks, “Go then.” 

You heard the sounds of your son fussing in his crib, you turned from Sandor and approached the babe. 

Sandor stood there, watching you from the corner of his eye. He did not think of himself as a good man, and he did not take pride in himself. But in that moment, he never felt such hatred for himself.

He looked over at you. You sang quietly and sweetly to the babe in your arms as you rocked him. He thought of how in Kings Landing he used to fantasize of having you in a wooden house, with a babe in your arms just as you did now. He thought of all the things Gregor took from him. His face, his innocence, his faith, his belief in good, his belief in chivalry, but now he threatened to take this sight before him. Gregor threatened to take away his ability to see his children grow. Threatened to take his life with you. 

Sandor approached you, but you only looked at him with teary and angry eyes. “Alright.” he rasped as he dropped to his knees, “I’m sorry.” His hands took place on your hips as he practically begged you. “I’m sorry.” He said into your skirts. 

You only held your son tighter. Refusing to look at him. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ 

However, Sandor did meet Arya in the High Hall. 

He took Arya by the shoulder, “When you find my brother. I want his head.” He said before finally leaving the High Hall.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Days passed, though your anger subsided for what Sandor had attempted to do. You had been cold and distant from him. It was not something Sandor was familiar with when it came to you. He did not enjoy it at all. 

He spent his days attempting to make it up to you. His attempts however were rebuffed. You did not allow him to do more than kiss you. You couldn’t help it really. You wanted to forgive him but felt as though you couldn’t.  

As you read a book within your chambers, Sandor parallel to you. He simply stared at you, as if he were trying to solve a riddle before him. You noticed it but did not want to give it any attention. Sandor's frustration grew as he could not tell what he needed to do to make you favor him again. But he would be interrupted by Eira entering the chamber with a parchment.

“A raven from Lord Tyrion.” She said as she handed you the letter.

Sandor groaned in annoyance, “Fucking hells, even up here he wants your ear.” 

Your stoic expression broke, as you read the news. The crime that Jon Snow had committed. “Seven hells.” 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

In the old dragon pit, you and the other highest Lords and Ladies of the Seven Kingdoms were gathered. You sat beside Sandor who you still were holding to a cold shoulder as a member of the Dragon queens unsullied known as Greyworm brought forth Tyrion Lannister in chains. He explained what had happened, and expressed his intentions of killing Jon Snow for his crimes.

“Jon Snow cannot go free.” Greyworm announced. 

“It is not for you to decide.” Lord Tyrion.

“You are not here to speak! We are tired of your words.” Greyworm spoke angrily. 

Tyrion nodded, shamefully. “You are right. But it is not for you to decide. His fate is to be decided by our king… or queen.” 

“We don’t have a king or queen.” some Lord said, you didn’t know his name or his face nor did you care to.

Tyrion scoffed a laugh, “You are the most powerful people in Westeros. Choose one.”

“I suppose you want it.” Ser Davos remarked.

Tyrion's eyes went wide, “Me? The Imp? Half the people hate me for serving Daenerys, the other half hates me for betraying her. Can't think of a worse choice.” Tyrion said, shaking his head. 

“Who, then?” Sansa asked,

“This realm needs unity. It is not an easy thing to unite people.” Tyrion said in contemplation,  then as his mind landed on the person he believed in. He began, “Who among us has united North, the Riverlands, and East. A girl who was orphaned in the den of lions, a girl who escaped every trap set in her way, a girl who with no money gained her own army, a girl who fought in war, a girl who conquered the Eyrie, a girl who sought justice by her own hand when the realm did not offer it. A girl like that would be steadfast, and wise beyond her years. She’d be kind, and thoughtful of her people to inspire such loyalty. Well then she should be the woman who sits on the throne.” His eyes fell onto you.

Sandor looked at you, unsure of what you would say. 

You narrowed your brows, “I don’t want it.” 

“No one does.” Tyrion scoffed a laugh.

“I won’t take it.” You shook your head, “I want no power greater than what I have been given by birth. I no longer care for myself, care of any desire or ambitions that once drove me. I only care for my children. I only care for my husband. I only care for my family.” You spoke confidently.

Sandor was in disbelief. You were offered power and wealth beyond anything you’d ever had. And yet you so quickly refused it.

With a nod, Tyrion spoke again, “What of the three eyed raven? He is our memory, the keeper of all our stories. The wars, weddings, births, massacres, families. He crossed beyond the wall a crippled boy, and came back the three eyed raven. He knows our past better than anyone. He could lead us into the future.”

And with that Bran the Broken was instilled at the new King of the Six Kingdoms, and Sansa became Queen of the North. 

“You refused the crown?” Sandor asked as he leaned towards you. Unsure as to why you had done it.

You looked at him with your cold eyes, “I meant what I said. I have no desires or ambitions beyond my children.” It was a slight at his attempt to leave your children to pursue revenge. A slight that he understood and one that he knew he deserved. 

As you continued on he watched you walk on as he heard that familiar voice again,

“Sandor.” Arya said as she approached him. Sandor hummed at her, “The tower fell before I could reach Cersei, or Gregor.” She shook her head, upset with her failed attempt, “Couldn’t get his head, but I got this.” She said as she presented Gregor's helmet covered in blood.

Sandor looked at it, he found little joy in it, and little relief. He shook his head, “Get rid of it.” He rasped as he turned to return to your side.

Arya looked at him as he walked away in confusion.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

As you laid in a steaming bath, your handmaidens washed your body. One cleaning your nails and another cleaning your hair. You normally would have insisted on doing it yourself, but after your travels back from Kings Landing you were simply too exhausted to do it. 

Suddenly however, the door to your bathing chamber swung open. Your ladies attempted to use their own bodies to shield the view of your naked form. However they relaxed once they saw the man who hunched down to get through the doorway was in fact the lord consort, Sandor.

“Out…” Sandor commanded, and all the ladies wasted no time in dropping their scrubbing clothes into the water as they fled the room. 

You stared at Sandor with an expression of annoyance. A look he was becoming increasingly difficult to take from you.

With a defeated sigh he kneeled by the tub, reaching in to retrieve a scrubbing cloth one of the maids had dropped into the water. Sandor gently took your hand, and began to clean your fingernails as the other maid was doing.

You looked at him with confusion, “What are you doing?” you questioned softly with narrowed eyes.

He snorted a laugh, not looking at you continuing to clean you, “The fuck does it look like?” he grumbled. 

You raised a brow at him, unsure of what he was attempting to do. “The ladies would do that.” 

“Would if I let them.” Sandor rasped, continuing to clean the rest of your arm. 

“You won’t even allow women to see my body? Or perhaps you feel guilty.”

“Just shut up about it.” He snapped at you. Though he was a tamed dog, he still did not like it when such trivial things such as guilt over hurting the one thing of value he had loomed over his mind and heart. Especially when his guilty consciousness was so easily seen.

“You shut up about it.” You snapped back at him as you splashed water at him.

As the water splashed against Sandor, a silence fell upon you both. He hung his head in shame. And you looked away in frustration. Sandor’s eyes then fell upon you, much softer now. “He is dead,” he said calmly and gently. 

Your gaze swiftly shifted back to Sandor. Your eyes were no longer annoyed or frustrated. But sympathetic, and mournful. Not for Gregor, but for what Sandor gave up. What Sandor gave to you but what you could not give to him. “Do you feel relief?” You asked, your voice was gentler.

Sandor shrugged, his eyes still fixated on the ground. “Some.” 

“I’ve been cold towards you.” You said softly, sinking deeper into the water.

“I know.” He grumbled, looking down like a child who’d been caught misbehaving. 

You moved to the edge of the tub, placing a hand on Sandor’s cheek. “I am sorry, I prevented you from what might have offered you relief from that pain in you. But if you should try to leave me or our children again. You leave us at your peril.” You offered an apology, as well as a warning. Your words soft and gentle though heavy and hard.

Sandor shook his head, placing a hand on yours that caressed his scared flesh. “I could not leave you, or our girl, our boy.” He shook his head again,  “Gregor-” He looked away, the name alone caused anger to rise like bile in his throat. He closed his eyes, shaking him away from his mind,  “I couldn’t let him take that too.” He said finally looking back at you.

You looked into his eyes deeply, “Say the words.” you commanded. Though your voice was soft and gentle. Hardly above a whisper.

Sandor did not hesitate, “I love you.” His voice was bold and clear. 

With that, you stood from the bath. Water spilling into the tub as it rushed off of your body. Sandor's sad, brown puppy-like eyes followed you as you stepped out. You grabbed a robe, and wrapped it around yourself, still wet soaking wet. Your hair soaking the thin fabric that draped around your neck. “Stand.” You said looking back at Sandor, who was still kneeling. As if he were at your mercy. Sandor stood, and you allowed his arms to wrap around you as they were longing to for so long. You held him back. It was not often that Sandor would allow himself to be so vulnerable. You pulled yourself away from his chest, and placed your hands on either side of his face forcing his gaze onto you. “You are no longer a hound, a dog. You are a man, a husband, a father.” You said with a soft smile wanting him to rejoice in his freedom and all he had done with his new found agency.

“I do not deserve you. I’m a killer.” He said, still sulking with his sad eyes. 

“Am I not?” You said defiantly. It made him crack a small smile. “You’ve been an honest man. A loyal man, to those who deserve it.” You rubbed his check gently with your thumb before running your hands along his shoulders. “Though you may refuse it, you've protected the innocent. You’re a fierce warrior.” You then embraced him once more. “My husbands a killer and I’d have it no other way.” You said softly as your face was nuzzled into his chest. 

He took your face into his hands now, “Look at me,” he said as he directed your gaze to look into his, “your eyes.” his voice was barely above a whisper as he spoke softer. “Same ones that looked at me while you ate dinner with those Lannister cunts.” He remembered the first time you and he saw one another. He could never get the thought of you out of his head from that moment forth. You had bewitched him body and soul no matter how hard he attempted to deflect its hold on him. “No fear in them. I should know I’ve seen it a lot.” He said as he admired your soft gaze as it was now, “No disgust, ‘ve seen that too.” He said with a small smirk.

You did not share his amusement, you never found Sandor disgusting. And you pitied those who did, for they’d truly know how beauty transcends through skin. When you first saw his scared flesh it reminded you of ribbons of silk. You shook your head. “I’d never seen anything like you. You were beautiful.” You said as your eyes trailed over his features. Your words were earnest and the warmth of your gaze filled Sandor with purpose.

He shook his head, in disbelief of your existence even still, “I’d die for you.” He rasped.

“I want you to live for me.” 

His lips pressed against yours the kiss was gentle though firm as his hand gripped the back of your head and pressed your kiss deeper. It was as if it were a vow. His hands wrapped around your waist tightly pressing you close to his chest. Sandor cared not if you were still soaking wet, he simply wanted to be as close to you as possible. Now that you were allowing his touch and offering your own in return. With his passions rising he lifted you off of the ground with ease. He began to carry you to your bed.

Your kiss did not release. No, your lips stayed together as long as you’d allow it. Only parting to meet again. He placed you onto your bed gently as if he were trying not to break you. He pressed his weight down on you, not all the way, no that would have smothered you. It was just enough for you to feel warmth and safety from his body. You must have laid there on top of one another kissing and embracing one another bodies for an hour. 

Sometimes he would part from your lips to look into your eyes and pet your hair away from your face. As did so, his hand gently running through your hair, you looked upon him and his swollen lips.

“I have something for you.” You nearly whispered. Sandor looked at you with confusion, as you rolled out from underneath him. “I’d it made some time ago, but I was too cross with you to allow myself to give it.” Sandor watched from the bed as you retrieved a black leather box from your wardrobe. “Do you remember that necklace, the one Tyrion gave me?” Sandor Nodded, though not pleased with the thought of your previous engagement. You looked down at the box, trailing your finger tip along the edge of the box, “I thought that necklace was a thoughtful gift. Made in an attempt to gladden my heart by someone who desperately wanted it.” You stepped closer to Sandor. “But it was a collar. Just as all that golden jewelry was a symbol of my taking.”  Your voice was much darker now, “So I had it thrown in a fire. Melted down.” You opened the box, presenting a dagger. It was not fancy, nor extravagant. Simple and effective. “You always said you wanted Valyrian steel, and I’d lost your other dagger-” You were interrupted by Sandor suddenly standing from your bed. He marched over towards the dog shaped helmet in the room. “What are you-” You couldn’t finish that either before Sandor was marching out the room with it. 

You threw on a much thicker robe before following him out of your chambers.

You had to make an effort to keep up with him, his legs were much longer than yours. And when he was set on something he was determined to do it. 

You followed him all the way to the High Hall, where he opened the Moon Doors. You instinctively pulled him away from them, though your strength held little influence against his stature. You held onto his forearm as he held up the helmet. “The King had it made to show that I was his dog.” He scoffed. “Fuck the King.” Looking upon the helmet for a moment more before dropping it through the moon door. “I’m my own dog now.”

Sandor turned towards you only to notice that your eyes were watery like at Robin's funeral. Only now you were smiling. You let out a sigh of relief as a tear fell from your cheek. The Hound was dead, and Sandor lived. Lived to be beside you. 

His large hand came to your cheek and wiped the tear away. He did not understand the bliss you were feeling. He was about to apologize for whatever it was that made you cry. But the sounds of a maid called out, “My Lady!”

It startled you greatly, “Yes?” you beckoned back as the girl entered the room. 

The girl approached you with haste, “It’s your daughter-”

You approached her with haste as well, “What’s happened?” you loudly beckoned with great concern and Sandor followed behind you.

“No my Lady, tis happy news! The little ones began to crawl.” She announced with glee.

꒰ ୨୧ ─

You and Sandor stood looking upon the small babe, crawling. Though she struggled, she still continued, prevailing. A stubborn thing just as her mother. Sandor would of course pretend as though this sight did not fill him with such immense pride but it did. The girl was born early, underweight, and yet she beat her brother who was born of a healthy weight to crawling. Such a small movement but such a large accomplishment. 

You looked at Sandor, and you knew he’d never speak his praises. He’d find no use of it. You could see in his eyes he was proud. You could see the tender love he held for this little thing so deeply.

You smiled as you looked at him, “Sandor?”

“Hm?” He hummed as he watched the babe crawl.

“I love you.” You said earnestly and softly.

Sandor looked at you, he sighed, “I love you.” He said as his hand tucked your hair behind your ear.

“Sandor?” You asked again.

“Hm?” He hummed once more.

You smiled, 

“I’m with child.”

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

NOTE: This is so bitter sweet. I am so so so grateful to all of you who have engaged with this story and engaged with my posts. This is not the end of this story! I will be doing small updates here and there. But the main series is officially at an end.  K love you, xoxo

Bambi

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[gyeomsweetgyeom]

Hiiii! I have baby fever after seeing Jaehyun with those kids in his mv 🥹 All I can imagine right now are domestic moments with dad Jae. Could I request a dad Jaehyun and oc going grocery shopping with his kiddos?

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

"Alright, we have some onions, go ahead and cross that off," you instruct your 6 year old who has a sparkly purple pen in her hand and the grocery list in her non-dominant hand.

She sticks her tongue out as she scans the list, seemingly stuck on the word onion. Dad!Jaehyun smiles softly and sounds out onion for your daughter, enunciating the sounds, "Onion, starts with an o sound."

She smiles as she finds it and crosses it off then gives you a thumbs up, "got it! Next!"

The toddler in the seat of the cart claps and mimics his sister, "next!"

Shopping always goes easily with your kids, they're always calm and well behaved. They liked to have jobs like being in charge of the grocery list, holding items, or pointing them out. Your daughter was in charge of most of these jobs and was a great example for her younger brother who was the grabber of the two.

"Next, we need some potatoes," Jaehyun reads off the list.

You're able to move through the list quickly, especially produce and the meat section. It's only when you get to the colorful snack aisle when the kids start pointing at everything and begging for the snacks.

"This one! No, this one! Actually, that one!" You daughter exclaims as her finger points from snack to snack.

"You can only pick one, so do you want chocolate cookies, strawberry, or oatmeal?" Jaehyun asks while reading off each pack she pointed at.

She squints at each pack, eyes narrowed as she leans in and absorbs every detail of each pack of cookies. After a full minute she finally decides, "strawberry, please."

"Good choice," you praise her as you push the cart down the aisle. Your son happily holds the pack of cookies and points at the strawberries on the plastic.

"Wait, Appa, now I want chocolate," she tells Jaehyun as you pull a carton of milk out of the fridge.

"Are you sure? We're almost done shopping so I won't go back again," Jaehyun asks her.

She puts her hands over her eyes and groans dramatically, "I don't know! So much pressure!"

You and Jaehyun eye each other, hiding smiles at her dramatic exclamation. "Let's ask brother, ok?" You ask her, hoping to ease the pressure.

"Hey bub, do you want strawberry or chocolate cookies?" You ask the toddler.

In turn he stares at you and begins nodding as he points at the pack and babbles incoherently. It's ultimately unhelpful.

"How about this, we get strawberry cookies this time, and next time we can get chocolate. Does that sound good?"

She mulls it over and smiles as she gets an idea, "we can get strawberry cookies and chocolate ice cream today!"

"Ice cream!" The toddler cheers.

You and Jaehyun exchange looks, a new skill gained in parenthood. You both nod minutely. You sigh, "I guess we can do that, but for dinner you can only choose one, ok?"

Your daughter laughs as if you you said the funniest joke in the world, "cookies are snacks! Duh!"

[tastesousweet]

⭒ the other woman

christopher sturniolo x poc!reader

summary: an angsty story of regret and selfishness told through different moments in time

warnings: alternate universe (takes place in the early 2000s bcs i’m obsessed), angst, implied sex, cigarettes, cheating (with, not on y/n)

a/n: hiiii srry for ghosting u guys again :/ i finally have motivation to write again!!! send in blurb or one shot ideas pls. unfortunately im putting tgwtt on hold for right now bc i feel writing that series takes so much out of me and i end up not enjoying anything i write. i hope u understand & im sorry to those who enjoy it! anyways i hope this is well received since it’s a bit different than my other works — lowkey tuned into my inner sally rooney bc her angst HITS . luv u baiiii

★ march 2004

there’s a vile and shameful look to you that you’re not so sure you’ve hidden well enough.

your stomach feels overweight and heavy with an extreme amount of pain bubbling and stabbing your insides whenever they decide to pop.

you clutch at the edge of the bathroom sink, staring at your figure and aching eyes (you added some dark eyeliner into your routine hoping to distract from your disdainful mood but you’re starting to think you may have drawn more attention with the dramatic look).

you suck your stained bottom lip into your mouth out of comfort or maybe a need for something to hold as you move to dig for the pack of slightly crumpled cigarettes in your small, wine-red purse.

the door handle begins to rattle unnervingly just as you spark the slim stick to life.

you comically still yourself in your exact position (bent over odd and cupping your hand around the cig as if there was any sudden wind to blow out your flame in your friend's classy bathroom).

"y/n? you in here?!"

your eyes widen first, before they eventually roll. you wave your hands around to cut through the plumes of clogged smoke in the quaint room.

“y/n!”

“someone’s in here!” you reply, taking another puff of smoke and adjusting your hair a bit in the mirror.

“you gonna open up for me?”

“ummm,” you sputter through the cigarette held in your mouth as you adjust your strapless dress with both hands in the mirror.

“y/n.”

you let out a soft groan and quickly smash the cigarette a few times against the french vanilla ceramic sink bowl, throwing what's left of it in the trash. you practically shove yourself against the tiny wall space to the side of the door as you inch it open enough for the two of you to gain a full view of each other.

you smile, “chris.”

★ december 2003

they say the holidays are worst when spent alone.

and despite having three siblings and parents who’d want nothing more than to spend their christmas eve with their son, chris has always preferred to spend the holidays with a beautiful girl — in hopes that she’d gift him the intoxicating feeling of her thighs tightly trapping his face by the end of the night.

so it’s shocking that he’s at your door step, dressed in a suave, ribbed white long sleeve, dark blue jeans, and somehow caught without one of his usual hats slouched on top of his head of fawn hair.

and it’s real fucking odd that you answer the door wearing a dress that fits you extremely well, paired with a cardigan to keep some modesty.

it’s so very weird given that chris has his girlfriend of over a year texting him another apology for abandoning their plans together to visit her family in wisconsin as you both share an intimate hug on your porch.

you try not to think it’s so unnatural for you and chris to go out for dinner, despite the fact that everyone in your small town knows he has a girlfriend who’s notably quite the opposite of you.

thank goodness chris keeps some casualty — leaving you to open your own door when climbing into his beloved truck.

★ february 2004

“okay, um, this is something you can eat and there’s, like, a million types- you like granny smith!”

“oo, apples!”

chris nods excitedly and flips to the next card, “it’s my favorite meal of the day.”

“breakfast!”

“yes, you’re perfect. alright this is casper the friendly-”

“ghost!”

“amazing! ‘kay, i’m always complaining that mine isn’t stiff enough.”

“your dick?” josh jokes.

“fuck off, josh! i’m more than capable…” chris laughs.

“gross! chris?!”

“what?! don’t make it a biggie. now hurry ‘n gimme that answer baby, please?”

“well i’m guessing it’s your mattress?!”

“you have 7 seconds!” nick says while intensely staring at the tiny hourglass.

chris gives an encouraging hand motion for her to continue on that path.

“ummm… your bed?!”

“yes! that’s what i’m talking about!” chris shoots up from his position, on the ground in front of the coffee table, and immediately picks liv up from the couch in celebration.

the group let out plenty of laughs and giggles at the fear in her eyes as she’s lifted up and down excitedly.

cassie yells out, “aw yay mom and dad!” when chris sets her down and kisses her lips.

you try to control your face. your eyes flicker over and see them smiling with their faces so close together. and it drives you a little mad that whatever chris whispered to make her burst into laughter can’t be heard from your spot across the couch, especially not when there are so many conversations going on at once.

it’s just a game. you have no right to be jealous. it’s fucking taboo.

you clear your throat and uncross your legs as you begin to leave from the leather couch, “matt and josh, you can go before me- i’m just gonna grab some water.”

★ march 2004

“smoking cigs again?” chris asks as he steps into the bathroom.

“no,” you lie, resting your hip against the edge of the counter.

he knows you’re lying but doesn’t bother to pressure the truth out of you, he’s not your father. or your boyfriend at that.

“are you doing okay?” he pauses and waits for you to acknowledge him.

you don’t.

he clears his throat, “you look beautiful in this,” he tugs your dress down showing off the cleavage you’d just got done hiding.

“‘m all good,” you answer his initial question while exaggerating a smile.

chris mindlessly nods his head and somehow gets even closer to you, to the point where you have to tilt your head just the slightest bit to make eye contact.

“can i kiss you?” he asks with a genuine glimmer of generosity in his eyes and tone; as if he wanted you to want it more than he wants it himself.

you’re silent. he holds your neck gently and raises his other hand to drag your large bottom lip downward, cooing a tease, “hmmm..?”

you whine a little to yourself — this can’t happen again.

“yes?” chris mocks a little, giving a squeeze to your neck, “say it.”

your eyes droop and suddenly the ache of pain and guilt melts down to a slush of excitement and warmth both inside and evidently outside, if the stickiness of your lace underwear says anything. you nod your head.

chris is so obsessed with your mouth, his thumb doesn't move from your bottom lip as you peek your tongue out to wet it, "yes, please." your words echo off of his lips that now practically hover yours.

even though you've used your manners you manage to deliver it as a command. and it doesn't help that you paired the sentence with your hands running up the hot skin underneath his dark shirt. his mouth hangs slightly ajar as his head nods softly once more and his eyes flicker over your pretty face.

you wait for his response before your eyes lock onto his and you pout, "i thought you wanted to kiss me, chris?"

★ december 2003

“that’s hot,” chris mumbles as he kicks his legs over eachother and stretches out on the longest part of your L - shaped, funky-green couch.

“what is?” you ask as you return to the living room, popcorn cradled in an oversized bowl against your waist.

“pamala anderson,” chris jokingly moans out, biting his bottom lip and covering his lower half with one of your fuzzy throw pillows.

“gross, you perv!” you throw a handful of popcorn at his face — that’s stretched into an adorable smile — and take a seat next to him.

“baywatch reruns are all that nbc play anymore,” you squint with a sigh, taking a swig of the cool bottle of beer chris requested before handing it to him.

“they lost the best thing to ever happen to ‘em, i’d milk that shit too.” he then takes a sip, smirking when a desperate pamala anderson begins to run in slow motion on your fuzzy box television.

“what would liv think of you drooling over some baywatch tits?”

“what would liv think of me replacing her with you for my christmas eve dinner?”

you can’t help but think that ‘replacing’ is possibly the meanest word he could have used.

he smiles and gives a soft laugh when your face doesn’t respond, “joking- don’t spaz on me now…” he rolls his eyes from you back to the screen in front of you.

you swallow and adjust your legs to sit underneath you, trying to get comfortable while remaining in your small red dress.

★ march 2004

“never again,” you remind chris and yourself as you step into your once discarded underwear.

chris nods his head a few times, replying when he finally catches his breath, “right.”

“okay,” you slip your dress back on and chris redresses himself away from you.

chris slowly comes up behind you, kissing your shoulder once and hugging you gently. you want to cry — because in any other circumstance you’d embrace this feeling. but you can’t help but feel dirty.

he whispers with his head buried in the side of your crowded neck, “you know your my best friend, right? i love you.”

and you can’t help the shivers and sobs that decide to escape from your sad, used body.

“shhhh,” he apologizes, “i’m sorry.”

★ december 2003

chris imagined having sex with you plenty of times before — figuring most guys have thought of it with all of their girl friends, at least his friends made it seem true.

though his imagination could never ever live up to your whines and the way your body effortlessly takes him as you bounce yourself on top of him.

you both knew this was a bad idea, it was bad before you ended up back at your place after dinner. chris is an admittedly horny drunk and you’re no better so sharing a few beers while sitting so close to each other was bound to backfire.

only in the morning would some ounce of guilt and regret wash over him, when he’d listen to the cheerful voicemail his unknowing girlfriend left him while he was busy with his fingers in your mouth.

★ november 2004

chris hasn’t spoken to you since you came clean to liv about your disloyalty, six months ago.

he yelled and cried at your doorstep. he told you that you ruined his entire life, that he never wants to see you again.

you convince yourself you never want to see him again, but you tend to miss him in the loneliest times. when you’re sat awake in your dark bedroom.

you still miss his voice and his face.

[nordschleifes]

life is what happens to you

➝ the life of a mother is not simple but it does not surpass that of the mother of a child who, in theory, does not exist to the world

➝ word count: 5,8k

➝ warnings: mentions of smut, coparenting.

➝ author's note: let's just say the idea of a formula one driver having a secret son gave me ideas.

The doorbell made you jump from the couch, relief filling your chest. As you walked to the apartment door, the sound of laughter made you smile. Finally your heart was home. When you opened it, you found a man and a little boy standing in the doorway, both with huge smiles on their faces.

— Mamá! — the boy exclaimed, throwing himself into your arms as he laughed.

— Hi, my love — you replied, pressing a kiss to his brown hair — How are you? I missed you so much.

— I missed you too, mamá — he murmured, his head nestled against your sternum, his hands resting firmly on your back, as if he were trapping you between his arms. After what felt like an eternity away from him, you never wanted him to let go.

— How was your week? — you asked.

— It was good — the boy replied, turning his head toward the man behind him — I biked a lot, didn't I, papá?

You looked up into a pair of brown eyes that were similar to your son's. The man in front of you had a tender, soft expression. One of his hands gripped the handles of a carry-on bag that you’d packed, and the other was stuffed into the pocket of his dark jeans. He looked exactly the same as the night you had met a Richard Mille event, seven years earlier.

You had been working as a designer for the watch brand for a few years at that point, and had gained a reputation for creating some especially bold pieces. At that time, you were celebrating the launch of your newest creation, the RM 19-02, which featured the first automatic movement for the brand, featuring a magnolia flower that opened and closed as the internal mechanism moved.

Seeing people enchanted by your creation, praising the little details, felt incredible, but all of it became background noise when an incredibly well-dressed man stopped to look at the display. You had seen his face before, but you couldn’t recall his name.

— This is yours, right?

— What? — you asked, half confused by the vagueness of his question, half captivated by how smooth his accent was.

— The design. It’s yours?

— Yes, it's mine.

He smiled.

— I can tell.

— Why? — you said, raising an eyebrow at him.

— It's beautiful like you.

Before long, he had introduced himself as Fernando and that he was a longtime friend of Richard Mille himself. You had a feeling that he wasn’t just any ordinary guest at the party. As the two of you continued talking, he started talking about cars, but you’d long stopped paying attention. His lips were of much more interest to you than the words coming out of them.

Ending up in bed with Fernando felt inevitable. Later that night, you didn't care about the marks on your neck or the volume of your moans. You didn't care how tightly he held your hair or how your hips bumped against his. You didn't mind when he mumbled something about the condom, his words were all lost in the post-orgasm haze.

Three months later, you realized that maybe you should have cared a bit more.

Finding yourself calling Fernando and then showing up at the front door of his house in Lugano with a positive pregnancy test in your purse made you feel like you were in a bad serial drama. You were fully prepared for him to humiliate you and tell you that it couldn’t have been him, that he would have never gotten a woman pregnant on a one-night stand. A pit formed in your stomach as you braced yourself for the inevitable paternity lawsuit you would have to file. 

To your surprise, though, he didn’t take the news badly. He didn’t look angry or shocked, but contemplative. He asked you a few questions about birth control and the morning after, but when you told him that you’d forgotten to take the morning after pill in the blur of the hangover the next day, he sighed.

— Well, I guess we're going to have a baby, then.

Your mouth dropped open in shock.

— What…?

He looked at you, his gaze serious.

— You don't want to? I mean, don't you want to continue with the pregnancy? Of course, I'm not forcing you to do anything, if you don't want to continue, we can look at our options and, and I’ll help you pay for the procedure, of course… 

— No, no, I want to have this baby... In fact, legally I can't do anything at this point — you stuttered, shaking your head — I mean... Aren't you going to ask for any proof?

He knit his eyebrows together.

— Do you want me to take a paternity test to verify?

— No, not because I have any doubts, you were the only guy I had sex with in the last few months. It’s just — you said, letting out a nervous laugh — It’s just thought, I thought you’d react in a very different way.

— Different?

— I thought you would be pissed and that I’d have to leave here and find a lawyer — you said softly.

Fernando smiled, taking one of your hands.

— I always wanted to be a father. It’s not the most conventional way, but now that I have the chance, I won't waste it. You can count on me, Y/N.

He had been sincere in offering his support. It wasn’t just monetary, either; even from the first few doctors appointments, Fernando was nothing less than the best co-parent you could have asked for. He was sincere in his willingness to wade waist-deep into the world of pacifiers, dirty diapers, doctors’ appointments, and toys.

However, the joy of having him around didn’t come without a lot of sacrifice and sadness.

Before long, you realized that Fernando was incredibly famous, especially in Spain, his home country. Because of this, and his incredibly public persona as a Formula 1 driver, a lot of legal rules had to be established with regard to the baby. His best friend and business partner, Alberto, diligently drew up a document outlining a custody schedule, restrictions on posting any identifiable images of the child, a future move — paid for by Fernando — when the child came of school age, and an agreement not to disclose the child’s paternity. It was all to protect the privacy of you and your baby, Fernando said.

However, it was worth it, and still was, especially when you saw the sparkle in your son's brown eyes. He was named Leon Alberto Luis, after Fernando’s best friend and father. All the effort was worth it when it came to your little boy, the greatest love of your life.

— Yes, we biked a lot — Fernando replied, looking up at you after dropping your son's bag on the ground — We went all around Parco Ciani, didn't we, Leon?

The boy nodded excitedly.

— And what else did you do? — you asked, as you stroked his hair.

— We played football and papá ordered Japanese food for us...

— Calamari? — you asked, looking up at Fernando again.

— As always — he replied, putting his hands in his jeans pocket. Even after seven years the similarity between Leon and Fernando still caught you off guard. It wasn’t just the physical similarities, either, but their personalities were almost identical. They both were shy at first, but had a great sense of humor once they were comfortable with someone. Both of them were also incredibly witty, with intelligence and mischievousness in equal measure.

— That's good, my dear — you replied, kissing his head — Now, say goodbye to your father and go straight to the shower.

— Do I have to take a shower now? — the boy questioned.

— Yes, you do. I could smell the sweat as soon as the car pulled up.

— I told you she would smell it — Fernando said to your son, ruffling the boy's hair — Now come here, let me give you a kiss.

Leon walked over and hugged his father tightly, his face pressed against his belly. Bowing down a little, Fernando placed a kiss on the boy's forehead and murmured something in Spanish to him, who nodded his head.

— Don't forget to ask, okay, papá? — the boy said, toddling off to his room with his overnight bag. As you looked back up at Fernando, he seemed to have a sheepish look on his face.

— You have something to ask me? — you asked, giving a small smile.

— Yeah, you could say that — he murmured.

— And what would it be?

— I wanted to know if you could... Not that, it's... If you'd like to bring Leon to a race at the end of the month — Fernando stuttered, running a hand through his hair — You know, it's going to be my birthday on the weekend and … You know…

You clenched your jaw. It was a tense subject between the two of you.

The first and only time you took Leon to a race track was, in short, a disaster. It was at the end of 2018, when Fernando had decided to retire from Formula 1 to dedicate himself to other projects, and to spending more time with Leon. The last race would be special, and he wanted his entire family to be there, including you and his son.

However, the steps that Fernando and his team had taken so that you and Leon could enjoy the race in peace was all for naught when journalists began to speculate who the woman and child were who were accompanying the Alonso family around the paddock. In the end, the plan to watch the race from the McLaren garage went down the drain and you ended up hiding away in a small room inside the McLaren motorhome, trying to calm down a screaming four-year-old boy because he wanted to see his father on the track and not on a screen.

— Fernando…

— I know Abu Dhabi was a disaster, I know — he interrupted you — But it was stupid of me to take you to a place where I would be the center of attention, but this time it's different.

— Different how? As far as I know, your season has been brilliant.

The shadow of a smile appeared on his face.

— Are you watching it?

— Leon keeps me updated. He’s watched every single race. Six podiums in eight races, right? — you said, leaning against the doorframe. 

— That's right — Fernando said — The last few races weren't so good, but I believe we can recover, and having you and Leon at the track would be wonderful.

— That's why he told you to ask me, right?

He pursed his lips before letting out a heavy sigh.

— Yes, Y/N — he replied — But, like I said, this time it will be different. My parents and sister won't be there, so it will be easier for you to blend in with the rest of the team’s guests…

— Look, Fernando, I would really like to…

— I asked for normal credentials, without my name, so that you can enjoy the weekend — the driver continued — Please, Y/N, it will be so good to have you there with me, and on my birthday...

— Fernando…

— He even told me what he's going to wear, it's going to be that lime green Kimoa sweatshirt...

— Fernando! — you exclaimed, interrupting him — I know you love Leon, that you want him around but, as you said when I got pregnant, we have to protect him from the media circus.

— I know…

— So you understand that taking him to the middle of a paddock for a race is not the best way to do this, right? I know you both love Formula 1, but we can't risk his safety and privacy because of this.

— But I want him to watch me race…

— And he watches you, Fernando, every weekend. He loves watching you on television, he screams every time you make an overtake. But we have to face the reality of it, and you know that it’s too much of a risk to his safety and privacy. You know that more than anyone.

— I know, which is why I took so many extra steps this time — he replied, running a hand through his hair — Forget about it, okay? When I get back from Spa, let's see about doing something together, okay?

— As long as it's not on a go-karting track — you said, laughing a bit.

— I can't promise that — Fernando said, putting his hand back in his pocket — See you, Y/N.

— See you, Fernando — you replied, as he turned and headed towards the elevator. After a few seconds of staring at his back, you finally closed the door, letting out a long sigh.

It was hard to be the person who said no. However, it was often necessary to curb the impulses of both Leon and Fernando and bring a rational view of the situation to make decisions. Of course, you wanted them to have the most normal coexistence possible, to be able to do normal things that fathers and sons did, but, above everything else, you needed to protect him, even if it meant having to deny what would probably be an amazing experience for the boy.

— Are we going? — Leon's voice broke you out of your thoughts. You turned around to see him in the hallway, looking hopefully at you.

— What?

— Are we going with papá to the race?

— Leon…

— Come on, mamá, it'll be nice. I swear I will behave, I will stay only with you...

— My love, you know it's not just that. There are other things…

— Is it because of Andrea? — he asked.

You swallowed hard, feeling your shoulders tense. It wasn't like Fernando's love life was any of your business, after all, your romantic relationship with him never went beyond the night Leon was conceived. However, you couldn't help but feel a certain distrust every time he showed up in the paddock with a new girl on his arm.

His most recent girlfriend was Andrea, a journalist who covered Formula 1 for an Austrian broadcaster. Even though Leon thought she was kind, and loved playing with her dog, a yellow Labrador named Bodhi, you always felt uneasy in her presence. There was something in the way she looked at you that made you uncomfortable, as if she was studying you, trying to understand your relationship with Fernando and Leon, if there was something more.

— No, it has nothing to do with your father’s girlfriend…

— Papá said she's just his friend now.

— What? — you asked, confused.

— Bodhi wasn't at papá's house when I got there, so I asked where he was and papá told me that he went back to Austria with Andrea — the boy explained — I asked if he was going to Austria too, and papá said no, because he and Andrea are just friends now.

You couldn't help but notice that Leon looked a little upset. You knew he loved dogs, but the fact that you lived in a small apartment prevented you from having a big one, which were his favorites. It also didn't help that Fernando had plenty of space to have a big dog, but wasn’t home often enough to care for one. 

You brought a hand to your son’s face and stroked his cheek.

— You liked him, right?

— Bodhi was nice, mamá — he said — He was always happy to see me. Did you know he liked to lick my face?

You laughed, lifting the hair that fell over his forehead.

— And you loved letting him lick your face, didn't you?

— Yes — the boy said with a mischievous expression — I also liked playing ball with him and Andrea...

— Did he bring you the ball? — you tried to keep up the conversation, ignoring the mention of the woman.

— Yes, he would look for us and ask us to play. I always managed to throw it further than Andrea — Leon said, until his face lit up — Mamá, what if we go to the race and ask Andrea if we can visit Bodhi?

You paused, unsure of how to answer your son’s question.

— We’ll see, my love. Now, go take a shower.

With a hopeful smile on his face, the boy obeyed.

His smile was what made you want to kick yourself. Leaving the possibility of going to the race open was fueling the expectation that Leon had already cultivated within himself for a long time. Doing that just to break your son's heart made you feel like a terrible mother.

“Would it really be so bad if we went to a race?”, you thought as you dropped onto the sofa, looking at the photo on the end table. It was a photo of you and Fernando holding Leon when he was just a few months old, both of you looking at the boy with pure admiration and love. It was as if it was impossible to believe that you had been able to create something as beautiful and pure as Leon. It was precisely that innocence that you wanted to protect from the media monster that prowled the circuits, sniffing out stories and devouring its prey without mercy.

Leon couldn't become another victim. You wouldn’t let it happen.

Over the next few days, you managed to avoid talking about the race, dodging the question any time Leon asked. However, your efforts were in vain when Fernando made a video call with the boy, directly from his room in Budapest. He had no restrictions on seeing Leon, quite the opposite. There were very few days that Fernando didn’t speak to his son somehow. Most of the time it was through calls or text messages, and you were proud of them for managing to become close in spite of Fernando’s insane workload.

During the conversation about what Leon did during the week and in his football practices, your son asked the question you were most afraid of.

— Will I see you next week, papá? — Leon asked.

— Ah, well — Fernando stammered, his eyes seeming to search for your image on the phone screen — You know I'd like to see you, but it's your mom who decides that.

The boy turned to look at you, his face full of hope.

— Can we, mamá?

— Leon…

— Please, mamá, I'll behave, I promise!

You sighed. Something inside you told you that this wasn't a good idea, that it was too risky for his privacy. However, what kind of mother would you be preventing him from seeing his own father? What kind of mother would you be if you kept him trapped in a bubble? What kind of mother would you be to deny something so simple?

— Do you want to go see your papá race?

— Yes, mamá!

— Are you going to stay by my side the whole time and not talk to strangers?

— Yes.

— I mean it, don’t talk to anyone other than me, your papa, and your uncle Alberto. 

— I won't talk to any strangers, I promise, mamá — he said, while Fernando smiled on the device's screen.

— Then we can go, my love — you said to Leon, who immediately looked at the cell phone screen with a giant smile on his face.

— Papá, I'm going to the race! — he exclaimed.

On the other side of the call, Fernando laughed at the boy's excitement, but the way his dimples framed his smile indicated that he was overjoyed with the news.

— Yes, you are! And we’ll have that waffle filled with chocolate sauce I told you about instead of the birthday cake.

— With candles for us to blow out?

— Yes, we will find some candles to put in it, okay?

The boy talked about what he would like to take with him and whether he could sit in the car, which Fernando was happy to confirm. At the end of the call, he blew several kisses to his father, telling him he would see him in five days.

Those five days that seemed to pass in the blink of an eye.

On the private flight that Fernando had hired to take you and Leon to Belgium, you couldn’t help but feel restless. Even with all the assurances that you wouldn't have any problems, you couldn't reassure yourself. Terrible scenarios came to mind, unprompted, each one worse than the last. By the time the plane approached the small airport in the region, your anxiety had reached a fever pitch.

— Mamá? — Leon's voice bringing you to reality — Are we there yet?

— Not yet, my love — you replied, looking at him — There’s still a little bit left.

— Is papá going to pick us up at the airport? — your son asked, as you took off the hood of the sweatshirt he had chosen that morning to fix his hair.

— Yes, along with Alberto and Fabri. And we will go straight to the circuit.

The joy on Leon’s face when learning that information was only exceeded by the joy on his face when he saw Fernando waiting for him on the landing strip, a slight smile beneath the hood of his black Boss sweatshirt. The hug between the two made something warm fill your chest, and so did seeing them laughing and joking like any other father and son.

— Thank you for agreeing to come, Y/N — he said, as Leon pulled his father's credential from his sweatshirt pocket and showed it to Fabri.

— It's the least I can do, Fernando — you replied, crossing your arms — And, considering he's your biggest fan...

You both looked at Leon at the same time. The boy was questioning Alberto relentlessly, wanting to know where his credential was and if it was the same as Fernando's. When your eyes met again, you knew that your concern was more evident than you would have liked.

— Look, I — you started, only to be interrupted.

— I know you're scared, especially because of what happened in Abu Dhabi. But rest assured, nobody will bother you.

— Are you sure? — you asked.

— Absolutely — Fernando said, before being interrupted by his son clinging to his arm.

— Let's go, papá! — Leon exclaimed, anxiously — I want to see the track!

The trip to the track was fairly short, with Leon excitedly talking about playing games on the Nintendo Switch in his backpack. 

At the entrance to the paddock, you decided to separate, in order to avoid unnecessary attention. Giving Fernando one last kiss, Leon made him promise that they would meet inside so he could show him the car.

— Your passes are inside — Alberto said, handing you an envelope — I'll send you a message when Fer is free, ok?

— Perfect — you replied, before getting out of the car with Leon, as he waved to his father one last time before Fernando disappeared through the turnstiles. 

The last time you’d come to a race, the paddock was incredibly crowded, but the fact that this was not the final race of the season and the weather was cold and dreary seemed to be keeping the crowds down.

— Where is everybody? — Leon asked you softly, gripping the pass around his neck.

— Well, there's nothing on the track today, so there aren't many people around here — you said  — Which means we can make the most of it.

The boy nodded, holding your hand as you both walked past the rows of paddock buildings. However, when you were passing the structure set up by Red Bull Racing, you felt your phone vibrate in your purse. You let go of Leon’s hand to paw through the contents of your purse in search of your phone. 

— Where, where… Here! — you said, as you unlocked the screen and saw that the call had gone to your voicemail.

However, that became a secondary concern when you realized Leon had run off somewhere. You felt your heart pounding as you started looking for the boy’s brown curls and gray coat. You had only let go of his hand for a second…

— Leon, Leon, my God, Leon — you stammered, about to scold him for not staying by your side even though he promised to do so on the phone call with his father...

— Mamá! — you heard Leon calling out — Here, mamá!

You turned around and found the boy waving at you a few feet in front of you. He was next to a woman wearing a pink coat and her hair in a ponytail, who was sitting on a bench. You walked toward him briskly, your words for him dying on the tip of your tongue when you realized who he was standing next to.

— My love, why…

— Remember I said I was going to talk to Andrea about Bodhi?

You blinked, looking up at Andrea, who had an embarrassed smile on her face and a cup of coffee in her hand.

— Good morning, Y/N — Andrea said softly.

— Good morning, Andrea — you replied, trying to mask your apprehension — I hope Leon isn't bothering you.

— No, never. Leon was just asking me about Bodhi…

— Can we go visit him, Andrea? — the boy asked, expectation shining in his eyes. Placing a hand on your son's shoulder, you were thinking about the best way to say that it wouldn't be possible to go to Austria to visit a dog when the woman gave a warm smile.

— Of course, I can talk to your father and we'll see a day for you to go play with Bodhi — Andrea said, looking up at you. As if she sensed your hesitation in the air, she added quickly — If your mother agrees, of course.

— Let's see, maybe during your school vacations, right, my love? — you replied, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder, forcing a smile.

— Yes!

— Perfect. Now let’s go, we have a long day ahead of us and so does Andrea — you said, looking at the journalist with the hope that she would follow your lead.

— Yes, media day is always busy for me — she said, smiling — See you later, Leon.

The boy waved goodbye to Andrea and allowed himself to be led toward the Aston Martin motorhome as you gripped his hand extra firmly. During that short journey, you tried to focus on your own breathing and not on the anxiety that took over your chest and made your stomach turn.

— Mamá…

— Not now, Leon — you replied, trying to remember what color the facilities of the team Fernando was racing for that season were.

— Mamá, you're crushing my hand — your son protested, making you stop suddenly and bend down in front of him.

— Why did you do that?

— What?

— Why did you leave my side?

— Because I saw Andrea and you said we could talk to her...

You let out a long sigh.

— My love, you said you wouldn’t leave my side, remember?

— She wasn’t far from us…

— I know, but you can't run off alone here — you said, placing a hand on the boy's face — Imagine if it were a day with more people, how would I find you? You know that I love you more than anything and that losing you would be the worst thing in the world for me.

Leon pursed his lips, looking upset about what had happened.

— Sorry, mamá — he murmured.

— It’s okay, my love — you replied — Now let's go to the motorhome.

The rest of the day was divided between watching the activity around the track and catching glimpses of Fernando as he circulated around the paddock giving interviews, checking the car's assembly and meeting with the engineers. The highlight of the day was the trip to the garage with Alberto, who introduced you and Leon to the mechanics and allowed Mikey, their leader, to explain the car to the boy.

— Can I get in? — he asked with his eyes shining.

The red-haired man looked at Alberto, who gave a positive nod.

— Of course you can — Mikey replied.

With Leon settled in Fernando's seat and with his hands on the steering wheel that had been positioned just in front of him, the boy seemed completely ecstatic. It felt like he was finally in the right place, where he should have been all along. It was no wonder his grandfather, Luis, was so insistent that they consider getting him into karting as soon as he was old enough.

— You can't see anything from here — he said, looking at you. The mechanics working on Alonso’s car chuckled.

— The drivers are a little taller, so they can see the track — Alberto explained — But, when you're a little older, you’ll be able to see just fine.

Leon smiled, before looking ahead again and pressing his fingers on the steering wheel. It was impossible not to notice how much he looked like the pictures you’d seen of Fernando as a child, so much so that you made a point of taking a picture of him to show Fernando at dinner later.

However, you didn't have that opportunity.

Leon was already lying in bed, watching a cartoon on Netflix. Despite what you had agreed on, Fernando hadn’t been able to leave his meeting with his engineers in time to have dinner with you. His message fell like a bomb on his son's mood, and he barely touched the ice cream that Alberto had offered to share with him. 

— Mamá?

— Yes, my love?

— Is papá coming?

You swallowed hard. The last message you had received from him stated that he was leaving the circuit, and it had been right after you arrived at the hotel suite. At that point, you had no idea when or if he would hit there, especially after that day.

— I don't know, my love — you said, running your hand through his hair — You know that this is still papá's job and he's very dedicated...

— But didn't he say when he's coming? — the boy questioned.

— He texted — you started, only to hear the sound of two knocks on the door. Looking back at Leon, you found his excited expression — Wait here.

You got up from the bed and went to the entrance of the room, feeling relief take over your chest when you saw that it was Fernando.

— Can I come in? — he asked softly, running a hand through his hair.

You nodded and stepped aside so he could come in. Smiling, the driver walked by you, kissing you on the cheek as he passed, before walking over to the bed. Leon had an enormous smile on his face. 

— Papá! — he exclaimed, as Fernado lifted him up into an enormous hug.

— Hola, mijo. I came as soon as I could. Did you have fun today?

— Yes!

— What did you do? Tell me everything.

— Yes, it was really cool. Mamá and I stayed with Melina in the morning and she showed us everything inside. She even got us waffles!

— Does that mean you got the waffles? I always ask them, but they always say they don't have any waffles — the driver said, as you walked around the bed and sat on the other side of Leon — I think I'm going to have a serious talk with them.

— Maybe the waffles are just for the VIP guests, right, my love? — you suggested with a wink, which made your son laugh.

— Yes, only for special guests!

— But I'm their driver! — Fernando exclaimed, in mock indignation — I deserve waffles too!

— Don't you have a weight to keep, Fernando? — you asked.

— Yes, but that doesn't mean I can't eat waffles, especially with my son — he replied, before pouting — But I don't think he likes eating waffles with me...

Almost immediately, the boy laughed.

— I like eating waffles with you, papá…

— You mean we can eat waffles together?

— Yes! — Leon exclaimed.

— With chocolate sauce or honey?

— Hm — the boy thought for a few seconds — Mamá, could it be chocolate?

— Don't you think you ate too much chocolate today?

Leon looked away from Fernando, looking embarrassed.

— It wasn't that much...

— Yes, it was. And I have a photo to prove it.

— You do? — Fernando asked, raising himself on one elbow.

— Yes, I do — you replied, taking the phone that was on the bedside table. A few taps later, the plate of waffles was on the screen in front of Fernando, who seemed somewhat impressed.

— Did you eat all of that? — he asked looking at Leon.

— Yes, every last bit  — you replied — He didn't give me any.

The driver laughed.

— I can imagine the sugar rush you had afterwards…

The conversation between you continued for some time, until Leon began to slowly close his eyes while his father stroked his hair. It wasn't long before he was fast asleep, with his face against Fernando's chest and one of his arms resting on his waist in a hug.

— Y/N? — Fernando asked softly.

— Yeah?

— Was Leon very upset that I couldn't have dinner with you?

You pursed your lips.

— Well, a little. He was really looking forward to seeing you and telling you everything but…

He snorted, looking at the boy.

— I didn't want to stay late — Fernando murmured — But tomorrow there's only one practice session before qualifying for Sunday, so I couldn't avoid it...

— He knows that — you said — I told you that, as much as it's fun, it's still your job and you're very dedicated to it. And you can't win if you don't dedicate yourself, so we have to understand and support you, even if it means you're far from us.

The driver looked up at you, his expression completely unreadable.

— Do you think I'm dedicated?

— That's a stupid question, Fernando.

— I just want to know your opinion — he smiled.

You rolled your eyes.

— Yes, I think you are dedicated and I admire you for that.

— You admire me, huh? — the driver asked in a suggestive tone.

— Professionally speaking — you said, the emphasis in your words causing a giggle to escape his lips.

— I also admire you a lot, Y/N.

— Professionally speaking?

— Personally speaking.

You stared at him in silence for a few seconds, trying to read between the lines of his words. However, the smile on his face made you completely lose your train of thought. It always did.

— Well, thank you — you managed to say, before your eyes found the face of his watch, which indicated that it was already past 11 o'clock at night — But I think it's past your bedtime

— No problem, I can stay a little longer…

— I'd like to rest, since I've had to deal with your son all afternoon.

Fernando laughed.

— He's also your son, in fact, he has a lot of you in him — he said, as he carefully got up from the bed, placing Leon's arm close to his body.

— I know that. But I prefer to highlight your participation so you can understand why I need a good night's sleep.

— And you will have it, I'm sure — Fernando replied, before heading towards the door of your suite. However, before leaving, he turned and smiled at you — Good night, Y/N. See you tomorrow.

[ac3may]

"One of us"

(Lando Norris x Fem!Reader)

F1 Requests = Open

It's a little later than I'd like it but here's a little Christmas something, something to kick off my F1 content.

Also first proper SMAU, how'd I do??

Description: "Reader joins the Norris family for their Christmas celebrations and realises just how much they mean to her through a few short days"

Masterlist

Who I Write For

Words: 1.8k

UrUsername has posted a story

“UNCLE LALA!”

A bright smile spreads across your boyfriend's face as he catches the small bundle of energy catapulting herself toward him. Mila’s legs fly behind her as he spins and she relishes in her uncle's attention. 

Smiling softly at the sight, the Christmas lights decorating his parent's country home glisten in the background. You begin unloading your suitcases from the car as tiny footsteps and little giggles disappear across the sprawling gravel driveway.

Soon enough Lando’s arms sneak around your waist, halting any attempt at movement. “I can do that, Lovey.” His lips pepper kisses to your hairline as he inches you aside gently.

“I can help too,” you insist, stubborn words contrasting your actions as you grin at the roll of eyes and scoff he returns. 

“You know that’s not how this works baby.” 

Smirking a little to yourself you resign yourself to watching happily. The Christmas jumper spread taught across his back, muscles rippling through the knitwear as he works. Catching his eye with a wink when he turns.

When you pull yourself from focusing on the handsome man you begin working in tandem, unloading his packed SUV of presents and suitcases for your week ahead.

UrUsername posted on instagram

UrUsername: Ski trip? Completed it✔️ Bring on Norris family xmas '24

The home that greets you is warm, the air scented with a glorious mix of gingerbread and cinnamon. You manage a single step through the front door before Cisca immediately fusses over you.

Exchanging hugs, collecting coats and ignoring her son entirely. Which has you giggling as he huffs and grumbles behind you. 

Further down the hallway Adam and Oli have gathered, baby Athena resting peacefully in her grandfather's arms. They let out much fuller laughs at your boy as the Belgian woman continues to dot on you.

Your hands emptied and you're ushered towards her daughters (and daughter-in-law), all watching on in amusement, hot drinks in hand.

Lando has lugged both of your large suitcases inside and is midway kicking off his shoes when his mother finally turns to him. A sassy remark falls from his lips as he embraces her tightly, a loving grin on his lips as he catches your gaze over her shoulder. 

'I love you,' your lips form the words silently as you mouth your affections, and he returns the silent words as you're both swept in different directions. The Norris women surround you and drag you further into the open-plan kitchen, pressing a warm mug into your hold, desperate to hear all about the ski trip you had recently returned from. Meanwhile, Mila hurricanes into the entryway gaining the full focus of the Norris men. Cisca stands back, admiring her family finally gathered together under one roof.

lando.jpg posted on instagram

lando.jpg: 🦌☃️❤️

After a big family breakfast and a long thirty-minute attempt at getting the entire family out the door, you were squished in Lando’s backseat between his sisters. You had given up your passenger princess privileges so Adam could sit up front with his son. Who had adamantly refused to give up the control of driving to ride in his parent's backseat. The rest of the Norris clan follows behind you in Savannah’s car. 

In following family tradition you’d all decided to spend Christmas Eve in the local town. You were beyond excited to see the small countryside town your boyfriend had been raised in. 

Festivities were in full swing when you arrived. You were quickly informed that it was the last day of the holiday market, which annually caused the whole community to gather and have a collective celebration. With Lando’s hand wrapped warmly around yours, you gazed around in awe. 

Music was playing from speakers throughout the small village of stands, all set up by local businesses. There was even a small petting zoo and stable where families gathered for a chance to meet donkeys, sheep, goats, chickens, and even reindeer.

What took your breath away though was the big, bushy, towering tree standing in the centre of the town square, draped in lights and baubles, a gold glowing star shining on top.

“Woah.”

You breathe the word almost silently, catching Lando’s attention his head turns to eye you adoringly. “Pretty, huh?” He offers, giving a squeeze to your hand.

You nod in return, childlike glee shining in your eyes as you peer up at him. Giggles escape as he enjoys your joy, tugging lightly to pull you with him into the maze of festive joy in front of you.

savnorris reposted UrUsername's story

The sun begins to dip beyond the horizon as the family gathers together, you among them. Empty hot chocolate cups littering the table in front of you. Mila perches on your lap, both tiny hands wrapped protectively around the carrot she had spent seven minutes meticulously picking. She had spent the whole time excitedly bouncing on the balls of her feet, eyes wide, as she anticipated providing the treat for Santa’s reindeer that evening. 

Despite the light tickles you leave up and down the sides of the tiring girl in your hold your focus is towards the curly-haired boy across from you. His attention is captured by the youngest Norris, little giggles escaping her as he pulls faces and blows raspberries against her rosy cheeks.

Moments later collective cheering distracts you and all heads turn towards the stage which has stood empty all day. The town band now stand upon it, jingle bells sounding as they begin to play. Folk around you start to dance and sing away. A bright smile beams across your face and the little girl in your arms perks up as well, jumping to her feet in front of you. 

“Tee! Tee! Dance with me!” With her calling out for her aunts you direct your attention to the stage, but only for several seconds before an insistent hand is tugging at yours. “Tee! Tee! Dance!” 

You look around for Flo or Cisca before your eyes meet back with the small ones honed on you, “… me?” You ask the girl, pointing at yourself, confusion laced in your tone. 

“Duh!” You see your boyfriend in her at her sassy remark, feeling another impatient tug on your fingers. Scrambling over your shock you scramble to your feet, taking both tiny hands in your own as you jump, twirl, giggle and sing with the two-year-old.

Collapsing heavily onto the sofa beside you Lando grumbles, dramatically clutching at his stomach.

“I. Am. Stuffed.” He declares, shuffling around to get comfortable before draping his limbs around you lazily. 

You laugh at the boy as he clutches to you like a child, still wiggling into the perfect position. He continues to groan in frustration before huffing and forcing your hand upon his head. “Scratch.” He demands.

Internally you can’t help but be amused and a little enamoured with his sass, loving his clingy moods and the fact he’s so comfortable with you in front of his family.

But outwardly you quirk an eyebrow, Lando puffs his lips into a pout giving you big puppy eyes as he adds a soft, “please,” to his sentence.

A little laugh escapes you and you concede easily to his wishes, watching the immediate way his face relaxes. 

The TV plays low in the background as the family slowly filters through to join you lounging in the living room. Mila plays with a collection of toy cars on a mat in the middle of the carpet as you speak in soft tones with Flo and Oli as their brother dozes in your lap.

The matriarch of the family is the last to enter through the door of her living room, arms stacked high with gifts.

Adam jumps from the armchair he’d claimed, quick to help his wife with the wobbling pile. She smiles gratefully and leaves again only to reappear moments later with two boxes and a second stack.

Hearing the crinkle of paper your boyfriend's eyes flutter open and his head perks up, swivelling to face his parents as they distribute packages to the occupants around the room.

“Christmas Eve packages,” Lando informs you, “my parents have done them ever since we were kids, usually something matching just to ‘get us in the spirit’,” his explanation finishes with finger quotations, his reaction speed only barely quick enough to catch the present launched towards his face in the process. 

“And this one’s for you darling,” Cisca’s motherly tone reaches you and her warm eyes meet yours. She hands the gift to you a loving smile on her face, one you recognise all too well from the way you saw it mirrored on Lando’s daily. Watching the shy smile that plays on your lips as you flip the parcel over in your hands Lando can’t help but press a kiss to your cheek. 

“You’re one of us now baby,” he grins, noticing the surprise tracing your features. His grin morphs into a smirk as a thought flicks through his head.

Linking your fingers together he raises them up. Lips brushing against your ring finger, “only thing left now is for me to put a ring on it.”

UrUsername posted on instagram

UrUsername: holiday dumps do it better🎄✨

“Hey, bubs?”

Lando hums in response, snuggling his nose further into your neck, as if he could get any closer. His position already left half your body smothered by him. Carding your fingers rhythmically through his dark hair you continue, your voice gentle, unwilling to break the peaceful bubble you’d created within his childhood bedroom. 

“Thank you.”

His head pulls back from you, yours tilting down to meet his eyes. Lando rolls off of you but still manages to create no distance as he props himself on his side. “What for Lovey?”

Your eyes roam down his, now bare, chest to spy his plaid pyjama trousers as you are flooded with the recollection of your evening. Of how only hours before you had watched him stubbornly argue against the matching nightwear until you batted your eyes at him. Of the teasing he’d received for the quick dissolve of his resolve. Of Mila’s excitement as she placed her carefully selected carrot beside the cookies you’d helped her bake. Of Lando’s boyish grin as you dusted the crumbs of said cookies from his chin several hours later. Of the giggles shared over glasses of mulled wine and tipsy twister once the young ones were sound asleep. 

“For everything,” you eventually respond, “for inviting me to spend the holidays with you, for your family accepting me, for you loving me, for everything.” The twinkle of love in your eye shines brightly, and is returned in his as he sees the emotion take hold of you.

“You never need to thank me for loving you, Y/N L/N. It’s an honour in itself for you to allow me the pleasure of loving you. And my family agree.” His palm raises to cup against your cheek, fingers tucking a few rogue strands of hair behind your ear as his lips tenderly meet yours, plushy and perfect.

(All pictures taken from Pinterest and edited for story purposes and fan consumption)

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Not A Verstappen: A New World {10}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: The heat of Qatar packs a punch and causes drama but nothing like what happens when the race ends. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, reader illness WC: 2k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine NAV: A New World One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten NAV: Lights Out One

Round Eighteen - Qatar GP

“Goddamn this place is hot. I’m sweating my tits off.”

“Are you?” Lando chuckled. “‘cause they still look good to me.”

You rolled your eyes at his flirty wink and continued to try to fan yourself as you scanned your pass at the entrance. “Fuck, this has to be some crime, it’s inhumane to make us race in this heat. How the hell are you wearing a hoodie?”

“It’s comfortable.”

You couldn’t even fathom a response as you stared at Charles, but he just shrugged with a smile and said, “He’ll take it off for the ice bath.”

Your enthusiasm perked at the idea of both a shirtless Lando and submerging into the cold water. Except you knew you would be in your own motorhome where your ice bath was prepped, not able to enjoy the view in McLaren or Ferrari.

“Are you going to be okay in there, mon amour?” Charles asked as they stopped outside your destination. Neither of your boyfriends were happy with leaving you alone, but you hadn’t heard a thing from Lance all week and assumed his father was to thank for that. His son had been absolutely slated online after the video went viral, now he kept a low profile.

“I can handle the big baby,” you said with a nod, cursing the laws that stopped you from kissing them both. “Go, before I get us arrested.”

Lando’s lip curved up into a smirk. “Didn’t we give you enough attention this morning to last a few hours?”

“Non, mon cher,” Charles laughed. “Our sweet will never have enough.”

You hated how your blood began to rush faster from a few whispered words, and they continued to tease you as they went on their way.

“Remember to hydrate, Spitfire.”

You pressed the button on your steering console and nearly gagged as warm water filled your mouth. It was an effort to swallow but you forced the liquid down knowing you were losing much more from your body through sweat. Your suit was drenched and your eyes stung when even the balaclava couldn’t keep your forehead dry and the sweat ran into your eyes.

“I’m having words with Russell after the race, we can’t drive like this,” you complained again.

“I’m sure he will have a few drivers with the same issue. Sargeant is retiring from the race.”

You lapped the Williams car as it limped slowly into the pits but you couldn’t spare a thought for the rookie as your vision started to blur again. Shaking your head violently, you recovered your focus in time for turn one and throttled through it. Another lap down, too many more to go.

Your head was hazy, and your sight wasn’t much better. You were fairly sure it was muscle memory that kept the car on the track as you didn’t really remember the last few laps after your water ran dry. In all honesty you may not have realised the race was over if it wasn’t for Charles slowing down ahead of you. For a moment you thought you were gaining on him but you weren’t that lucky.

“What were the results?” you panted as you followed Charles on the warm down lap, running over the marbling and ignoring the system settings you didn’t have the energy to enter.

“Verstappen, Piastri, Norris, Russell, Leclerc, you. Nice job.”

“And Stroll?” The lap seemed to be going on forever as you took each turn at a snail's pace. You were hot and itching to get out of the seat that was most definitely burning your asscheeks.

“P11.”

You pulled into the pits and the engine stalled as you failed to disengage it properly. The failsafes clicked in and you fumbled for the harness as the need for fresh air almost suffocated you. Your mouth was too dry and the taste of metal coated your tongue. You didn’t even have the strength to climb over the halo and just slid down to the asphalt.

It took every ounce of will power to stand upright with the intention of making your way to Charles. But, as soon as you were upright it was as if all the blood drained from your brain and it was too heavy to hold up. You tried to take a step towards the ambulances that had arrived but when your foot lifted, the world tipped into darkness.

Lando searched the crowd as he stepped out onto the podium and waved proudly at his third podium in three races. He had seen Charles before being sequestered to the cool down room but hadn’t caught sight of you. Now he couldn’t find either as he scanned his team's area.

“Can you see them?” he asked Max beside him.

“No, but I saw Charles heading to her car before we left. Relax, she’s probably just chosen an ice bath over you.”

Lando snickered. “I won’t take it personally, I’m fucking cooking here.”

It was Jon who pulled him aside the instant his shoes hit the bottom step at the back of the podium. Lando knew something was wrong the moment he saw the worry etched on his PT’s face. “Max, you should come too,” Jon stated, his hand wringing together. “It’s your sister.”

Jon quickly recounted how you had collapsed from exhaustion trying to get to the ambulance in parc ferme. Charles had reached you first and then they had taken you straight to the medical centre, which was where Lando and Max were racing towards.

The medical centre was busier than either man had ever seen it and they passed Ocon and Sargeant looking a little worse for wear. Both looked up from their narrow cots in a curtained area but it was Logan who pointed to the door to a more private space.

“She’s in there,” he said softly. “They’re about to transfer her to the hospital. Sorry. Thin walls.”

“Appreciate it,” Lando nodded, skipping to catch up to Max as he pushed the door wide open.

“Zusje…”

Lando froze as he saw Charles sitting beside you, his hand holding yours carefully to avoid the IV that was pumping fluids back into you. Your race suit had been cut away and cooling blankets enveloped you as they worked to bring your core temperature back down into the safe range.

“I thought she fainted?” Lando murmured as he stepped closer and into the space Charles made between his legs, laws be damned. He placed his hand over yours, lacing his fingers between Charles as he sat on his knee.

“Her blood sugar was way down,” Charles said, his voice struggling to remain steady as he pointed to one of the bags connected to the IV. “Severe dehydration, hyperthermia. They are sending her to the hospital for monitoring, just waiting for the helicopter to arrive.”

“A helicopter,” Max frowned. “That’s not normal, right?”

“No,” Charles whispered before swallowing deeply and holding Lando tighter. “There’s something else that showed up in her blood test, mon cher.”

Lando twisted to see Charles as his voice broke. “What?”

Max circled the bed and reached for the papers that were still hanging from the machine that had since been turned off. “She’s pregnant too?”

Charles looked down and nodded, Lando’s spine stiffening at the news before he stood up and snatched the pictures from Max’s hands. His empty hands balled into fists and it was only your body in the bed that kept him from jumping over and tackling your boyfriends to the ground. “Which one of you klootzakken knocked her up?”

“It was an accident,” Charles said as he rose to his feet and wrapped his arms around Lando’s waist. “The doctor thinks she’s about 12 weeks along, but he wants the maternity unit at the hospital to check them.”

“She’s been racing,” Lando murmured, still in a state of disbelief. “She could have crashed.”

“She didn’t know,” Max growled under his breath. “How could she not know?”

The doors opened and three heads turned to see the FIA Director walking in, his eyes taking in the scene. “Good, you are all here.”

Max turned his anger to the Director who had clearly been debriefed on the situation. “How could you let her race in her condition? She got randomly tested in Singapore.”

“We test for drugs, Mr Verstappen, not pregnancy. General health check ups fall on the teams, any further questions should be directed to Aston Martin.”

More footsteps came down the hall and a nurse came with the news that the helicopter had arrived. Charles bent down and kissed your forehead, your skin still too hot on his lips. “I’m sorry, mon amour.”

Only family were allowed in the helicopter and there wasn’t enough space for everyone so Max ended up flying while Charles and Lando broke every speed limit on the road to reach the hospital. 

“She’s going to hate us,” Lando whispered into the silence that plagued the car. “Fuck, Charles, we’ve ruined her career.”

“Hey, shh, she’s not going to hate us,” he said, taking Lando‘s hand while praying he wasn’t lying. 

“Did you see it?” Lando asked, absentmindedly stroking the picture he still held. “A baby, Cha.”

“I didn’t believe them when the blood tests came back,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips before it dimmed. “I can’t help wishing she was awake to see it.” 

“Do you think…do you think it will be okay? The training, and racing…What if it hurt-”

“Don’t, Lando,” Charles cut him off with a shake of his head. “Don’t think like that, mon cher. Put your brave face on, for her. We’re here.”

Charles' hand slipped from Lando’s as they got out and it was a reflex to reach for each other when they met at the front of the car, except they couldn’t. Not there, not in public. The most they could allow was their shoulders to brush as they stormed inside the hospital and followed the signs to Maternity.

A dull thumping whomped around your head as you came back to consciousness and it took a while to realise the sound wasn’t inside your brain but from the helicopter you were a passenger in. Straps held you down on the gurney and you struggled against them before a hand gripped yours.

“You’re alright, zusje, calm down,” Max said through the headset that matched yours.

You looked around confused about how you had ended up in the back of a helicopter but it was the lack of two other people that worried you most. “Where’s Charles and Lando?”

“Don’t worry about those assholes, they’ll meet us at the hospital.”

You blanched at the acerbic tone and watched your brother's jaw clench with rage. A shiver broke across your skin despite still feeling like you were cooking from the inside out. “What happened?”

Max looked away and shook his head, refusing to explain further as the chopper started to descend. Mad at him, and mad in general, you pulled your hand away and found the buckle, unclipping yourself and reaching for the IV next.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m fine, Max, it’s just a little heatstroke.”

The nurse travelling with you had the same look on her face as what Max vocalised but she was more calm when she spoke. “You almost went into cardiac arrest, ma’am, and you are still at risk so please lay back on the cooling pads. We only want what’s best for you and the baby.”

Max winced and dropped his head into his hands. “Fuck.”

You blinked. Then blinked again. Maybe you did have more than just a little bit of heatstroke because you were obviously delirious. With a laugh you fell back into the cold blankets. “Crazy,” you mumbled as the buckle was refastened across your chest. “Could’ve sworn she said baby.”

Click here for the next part NAV: Lights Out .

[myladysapphire]

Agape

Agape love is defined as being unconcerned with the self and concerned with the greatest good of another. Agape love isn't born just out of emotions, feelings, familiarity, or attraction but from the will and as a choice. Agape requires faithfulness, commitment, and sacrifice without expecting anything in return.

word count: 798

CW: MDI 18+, smut, p in v, oral sex (f reciving), not beta read.

Aegon Targeryen x fem!reader

a/n very love sappy, but i love tom so its only right

Masterlist

She was a lady from some noble house, sent to kings landing by her father to find some suitable husband, that could only benefit him. But the second she entered kings landing she caught Aegon’s eye, the pair quickly becoming enamoured in each other, and soon any hopes her father had of her making a subtle match was ruined, and she found her match in Aegon instead.

He was the opposite of ideal, he was a first born son and yet was entitled to nothing and already wed. In no Westorsosi world could the two love openly and yet with him she loved him effortlessly. She didn’t love him for the crown he might one day wear, or the riches he adorned, but for him and him alone.

And he, well he never looked for love before her. And yet the second he saw her he knew she was perfect for him, and that love was the only thing he would ever find with her and her alone.

They had planned the a life were they could live, happy in love with no one pulling them apart. And the day came for that dream to become true.

They had been awoken at dawn, a maid entering his chamber with news of his fathers death. And yet no sadness was found. Only hope.

They had exchanged smiles, and quickly packed there things, quickly running through he secret passages of the keep to the dragon pit, where they made their quick escape on the back of sunfyre.

They had nothing too lose and everything to gain from leaving, and that everything was each other.

They had been living in Bravvos for two years in utter bliss.

Aegon having become a moderately successful merchant somehow charming some rich Bravvosi lords into employing him in their trading empire, and she had started to work in a book shop.

They lived comfortably, being given a manor on one of the lord’s estates. They somehow had left with nothing and yet found themselves living in what many may call the laps of luxury.

Though there were some struggles, such as were to hide sunfyre, but the dragon seemed to love the freedom of the continent, disappearing for weeks on end before finally returning.

Another struggle was the fact that they could never seem to get out of bed.

“Gods!” she moaned throwing her head back, she had awoken to Aegon’s head between her thighs, his tongue endlessly teasing her clit, his fingers plunging in and out of her making her peak twice already, and still refused to lift his head.

Gripping the back of his neck, she slowly pulled him away from her heat, him whining at the loss of her sweet taste.  

Though she made up for it as she pulled him into a deep heated kiss, before slowly flipping them, so his head was now against the headboard, and her sat in his lap, there lips never breaking apart.

There bedsheets had long since fallen of the bed, leaving them and just their bare bodies to bathe in the sunlight that was leaking though the curtains, they had half hazardly closed the night before.

She began to grind her heat against his cock, covering him in her wetness, and making his already hard cock, impossibly harder, causing moans to fall from his lips.

“I love you” he whispered against her lips, his arms moving to wrap around hers, before finally reaching down, grabbing his cock and finally entered her, they both moaned as he did.

She moved slowly, grinding her body against his, with slow tortuous movements, kissing him slowly and returning his words as her own.

After several minutes, and pleas form Aegon she changed their positions, so that Aegon now lay flat on his back, his arms pinned down by hers as she finally picked up the pace.

She started to ride up and down his length, griding her hips as she went, leaving Aegon a moaning mess and unable to move as she took only her own pleasure and focused on circling her hips to hit that sweet spot only his cock could reach.

“Faster, please!” Aegon begged, though in truth he was at her mercy, happy to take what ever she would give him, even if it denied him his own peak.

She complied, moving her hands to realise his, instead positioning them to hold onto to his legs behind her, allowing Aegon to grab onto her hips, as she focused on riding up and down his dick, set just at the right angle, so that at every move his cock was hitting her sweet spot.

Before they knew it they were both reaching their peaks, and collapsing together on the bed, only to here Aegon say “Again?”

Taglist

@aleemendoza2425-blog@apollonshootafar@zillahvathek@flrboyd @targaryenmoony @theanxietyqueen17 @leavesmealobe @dark-night-sky-99a

to be added to taglist

[growingstories]

La vie est belle

Thibault, a 35-year-old with a big chest, strong arms embodies the ex-jock look with his abs covered by the good French life. He lives in a quaint French countryside filled with wine farms that have been in his family for four generations. Thibault is a hard worker who has dedicated himself to weightlifting at his home gym and running the farm. However, he struggles with finding a romantic partner as there are no openly gay individuals in his small town, and he despises city life. Thankfully, his mother and his four loving sisters constantly pamper him.

Despite his weightlifting and because of his mother's delicious food he said goodbye to his abs when he returned home after his economics study. Home made pies, foie gras, cheese boards, stews, etc, all made it impossible to live on just chicken and broccoli. Thibault has always harbored an ambition to win prizes for his family's wines. However, the sudden death of his father left him unable to achieve this dream as his father didn’t get the chance to leave him the family’s wine blending secrets. As a means to gather feedback, Thibault starts dining at a restaurant that sells wines from the region and forms a bond with the owners who pamper him with delicious food. Unfortunately, indulging in these culinary delights leads to him gaining some weight. Mainly around his belly.

After a few years of trying out blends Thibault's fortunes change when he becomes the winner of a prestigious regional wine festival. Thrilled with this recognition, he takes his wines to various other festivals and attends big parties and tastings. However, as he immerses himself in this world, Thibault's belly continues to grow alongside his success.

Thibault's wines gain popularity, and upscale restaurants invite him to bring his wines for menu tastings. His mother, concerned about his well-being, packs snacks for him to enjoy during the long drives. These snacks, along with his indulgence in fatty breakfasts to combat hangovers, only contribute to his expanding waistline. Eventually, Thibault finds himself needing to buy a new wardrobe to accommodate his weight gain.

To combat the effects of his overeating, Thibault starts running. However, his fitness journey comes to an abrupt halt when he injures his ankle, rendering him unable to do anything but focus on exercises for his chest and arms. This setback only serves to bulk up these muscles, causing Thibault to outgrow his gym shirts.

His awarded wines give him to write about his passion in the culinary world. As a food and wine critic for a prominent international newspaper, Thibault finds himself in the perfect position to recover from his injury. His mother aids in his recovery by preparing delectable food pairings for his wine tastings, and farmers from the countryside send him their specialties to try. These days are filled with writing and indulging in delicious meals.

Unfortunately, Thibault's mother falls ill and entrusts her daughters with taking care of him. Each night, a different sister cooks for him, ensuring he has big portions of food to fuel his growing business and appetite. As a result, Thibault's belly expands exponentially, making simple tasks such as tying his shoes more challenging and leaving him out of breath quickly.

Due to his expertise in the wine industry, Thibault is appointed as the chairman of a prestigious wine qualification company. This honorable position brings him recognition from farmers who send him gifts, food, and wine. As Thibault visits various towns for his work, he finds himself surrounded by enticing food and never-ending parties, causing his weight to steadily increase.

Thibault's godson Bernard, the son of his closest friends and neighbors, came back from university in the US. The boy turned into a handsome and muscular young man, expresses a desire to work for his godfather. Thibault gladly accepts and tries not to fall in live with the young man. Wanting to keep his beloved godfather happy, Bernard takes charge of cooking their lunches. Bernard had learned to cook big American meals in dorm combining this with French taste. Thibault, trying to hide his crush, started to eat everything in sight. As Thibault becomes a charitable figure, he is invited to various events and wants Bernard to accompany him everywhere.

While Thibault sleeps off the hangovers from wine filled nights Bernard starts his days with a run and picks up breakfast for his godfather. One morning Thibault looked out of the window and sees his godson shirtless sweating and stretching after his run. The sight is amazing, the young man has sculpted abs and a big chest. Amazingly big legs and a round ass. He feels his dick getting hard, but when he looked down he couldn't even see his feet anymore. Bernard caught Thibault staring and waved and holds up a bag of pastries. Thibault is embarrassed. How can he be attracted to his godson, its just wrong he tells himself. Bernard brings up the breakfast to his room, still shirtless. He gives the bag to Thibault and tells him he bought som extra for the long roadtrip. The trip is tense, Thibault didnt dare to speak and ate all the pastries within in the first hour. Bernard thinks his godfather is just hungry and after pumping gas he returns to the car with more food.

This can’t continue Thibault thinks to himself as he looks down to his massive belly sitting in his lap. Looking at his reflexing in the car mirror, he suddenly realized what happened to him, he wekt from fit college jock to grey haired morbidly obese 43 years old single gay wine farmer.

Stay tuned for part 2

[himbofan4444]

Greg had been dying to become popular, but his slender frame and lack of friends heavily detracted from that. He joined the wrestling team as a last ditch effort to gain attention, but he was exceedingly poor at it. One day he went to the coach to ask for help.

“Coach, I think I’m going to quit the team.”

“Why? You have so much potential.”

“To be honest, I don’t care if I have potential. I just want to be popular.”

“Oh you do? Well wrestling should help with that.”

“Not if I never win.”

“What if I made it so you did win?”

“How would you do that?”

“Listen Greg. Nobody knows about this but I have a steroid to help you grow overnight. Would you be interested?”

“What? Overnight? Can I have it now?”

“Hold on tiger. I wanted to give it to you at the lock-in next weekend just to make sure you don’t die. You interested?”

“Of course, sir!”

“Great I’ll see you next weekend then.”

After a week of anticipation, Greg went to the school for the lock-in. He was quickly pulled aside by the coach.

“Here kid. You have to inject it in one of your buttcheeks. Now go.”

Greg shakily pushed the needle into his buttcheek and injected the mysterious liquid. There was no instant effect. He walked to sit in the coach’s office as instructed. The coach sat seated in front of Greg to observe the changes.

“When is it supposed to start working?”

“It takes about twenty minutes I believe.”

They sat in silence until Greg felt a pulsing throughout his body.

“Oh I think I can feel it working.”

He felt his legs and back stretch quickly, his previous 4’11” self left as a 6’4” giant.

“Woah. I’m huge!”

“Oh kid this is just the beginning.”

His face changed rapidly. His once youthful face was replaced with a much more masculine one. His jaw and chin grew massive, his chin gaining a noticeable dimple. His lips grew plump and juicy. His nose grew wider and more prominent. His eyes got smaller and changed to a crystal blue. His eyebrows got thicker and shifted to rest lower on his face. His hair became blonde and grew into a curly mullet. He grew a dense pornstache as well.

His body was the next target. His neck widened significantly and his adam’s apple grew much larger. His shoulders widened and grew more muscular. His traps swelled and started to swallow his neck. His biceps swelled along with his triceps and forearms. His hands grew to double the size and his fingers grew thick and meaty. His once nonexistent pecs changed into huge muscle tits. His nipples got thicker. His lats and back swelled, his whole silhouette gaining significant size. His stomach formed a six-pack. His thighs grew huge, perfect for wrapping around his opponents. They were so large he could not comfortably walk. His calves swelled. His feet changed into an absurd size 20. They were so big he would constantly trip over them. His butt grew fat and fuckable, so that they would jiggle when he walked. His penis grew massive. It expanded to a monstrous uncut 12 inches with huge balls.

“Oh fuck that feels good…”

Greg flinched at hearing his voice. It was comically deep as he was comically large.

“How am I supposed to pass as a middle schooler? I’m huge!”

“You are a middle schooler, but you’re not 12 anymore.”

Greg tried to understand what he was just told but then the mental changes hit him all at once. His once high intellect shrunk to almost nothing. He couldn’t focus on anything except for his dick. He is now coach’s son and star player. He couldn’t pass 7th grade even at 19 years old. He has an IQ of 60 now, too stupid to do anything except wrestle, jerk off, and get fucked by his dad. He grew thick body hair all over, mostly around his armpits, balls, and chest. He gained a strong musk so strong his dad started to gag. Greg, or Gavin now, is the most popular guy at school, even if everyone has to plug their noses when talking to him. Coach hands him his a large hoodie, sweatpants, and huge shoes.

“Go put this on.”

“K Dad.”

Gavin pulls the clothes over his thick muscles, his huge dick and ass accentuated due to the tight fabric. He stomps his foot, causing his thick ass to jiggle hypnotically.

“Dad… I’m hornyyyyyy… Please fuck meee…”

“Gavin you know I can’t right now. I’m on duty. Maybe you should go play with the other kids.”

Gavin smiles and waddles away back to the gym, stumbling over his giant feet. He paws at his monster cock and pulls at his ass. He lifts his buff arm and sticks his face into the dense forest of hair in his armpit. He collapses on the floor and starts to masturbate to his obscene odor. He quickly realizes it’s impossible to smell his pits and wrap both of his hands around his huge cock, making him frustrated. He awkwardly stands up and forces his dick into the wall. He aggressively thrusts into the wall while lapping up the sweat accumulating in his hairy pits. He loudly pants and moans as he approaches climax. He releases copious amounts of cum, not even emptying his huge balls. He howls in pleasure as he falls back onto his fat jiggly ass. He passes out, his cock still sticking straight up.

[syndrossi]

October Trick or Treat #5: Ghost finds Jon

I feel like there's a part two to this, but it was already 2K and this was a natural stopping point... (Also, I know these are Halloween prompts, but a winter setting felt natural for Ghost!)

x~x~x

Daemon glanced back at the towering outline of the stone fortress that served as the Royce summer dwelling, located in the foothills of the Serpent’s Spine, west of Runestones. It was nearly obscured now, by heavy snow from a storm that had swiftly blown in over the mountains during their play.

Laughter rang from his sons at the bottom of the hill, both enjoying a game Jon had suggested that leveraged unused shields borrowed from the fortress, which they rode down the snow-covered slopes. The speed had been unnerving at first, but the snow at the bottom was soft and thick. Squinting through the heavy flakes, it appeared that Jon had been launched into it, face-first, to Rhaegar’s amusement. His son popped up, shaking himself like a dog to dislodge the snow from his head and shoulders.

It was a fifteen minute trek back to the fortress in ankle-deep snow, and Caraxes had been left to laze about in its yard with the hatchlings, who were less capable of handling the cold, for this excursion. If the storm worsened, he did not want them to lose their way. They were all dressed in warm furs, but with the wind now picking up, Daemon could feel the cold sinking deeper in.

He called for his sons, but the wind carried his voice in the opposite direction, and they were too embroiled in an impromptu shoving game to notice the waving of his arms, so he started down the hill. Rather than the ankle-high snow at the top, it grew deeper as he descended, which explained why his sons were buried half to their waist at the very bottom.

I should have called them back half an hour ago, he fretted. Both his sons seemed to carry a youthful energy that insulated them from the cold, but it would not last forever. He was less immune to its effects, finding himself shivering, face almost numb from the frigid wind.

His sons jumped out of the snow at his call once he had reached the bottom, their caps blanketed in snow. “We must head back,” he said.

Jon looked around and then upward, seeming to notice the storm at last, and the mirth in his eyes vanished, worry overtaking his expression. The wind did not carry only snow from the sky now, but from the hillside above them, creating something not unlike a wave, but of snow, blinding vision as it crested over them.

Rhaegar, taking his cue from his brother, had also sobered. Daemon took each by the hand for the trek back up the hill, which was far more punishing, especially once they finally reached the top, where the wind whipped about, unhindered. What had been ankle-deep snow up there had already gained an inch, and he could not see the fortress at all anymore through the curtains of snow around them. He could barely see past his own outstretched arms.

Unease turned to sour fear. Daemon turned in place, trying to orient himself, but with the white blanketing every direction, there were no features he could use. There is no telling how long this storm will last.

A tug came at his sleeve. “It is that way,” Rhaegar said, voice forced to nearly a shout to be heard above the wind, pointing with his other arm. At Daemon’s hesitation, he added, “That is where I sense Qelebrys.”

His sons’ bonds with their hatchlings were strong enough that he believed him, and Daemon nodded at him to lead. It was slow-going with the wind and snow buffeting them, and despite his son’s sense of direction, it did not help in navigating the uneven terrain. The drifting snow filled dips in the terrain, and one such dip caused Rhaegar to nearly disappear entirely as a patch of lightly-packed snow above a void gave way beneath him, tearing his hand from Daemon’s grasp.

Daemon thrust out an arm, barring Jon from moving forward, heart in his throat as he dug at the loose snow. He found Rhaegar’s arm and heaved him out of the snow, the force of the tug sending him onto his back, his younger son landing on his chest. Both snow and furs cushioned the fall, but Daemon could feel the cold sinking deeper as wind battered them.

The walk from the holdfast to the angled slopes Jon had spotted from their morning ride on Caraxes for sledding down had seemed long to Daemon even in clear weather. He feared how long it would take on the way back. Even with Rhaegar providing a direction, the lack of visibility required moving slowly, lest they take a wrong step. 

Even with their caution, it was Jon who took a tumble mere minutes later, foot sinking into another hidden void that sent him tumbling into a patch of snow-covered brush that swallowed him. Daemon shouted after him, unable to see even the top of his head. He went to his knees, skirting the edge as carefully as he could, and began digging.

A shape moved at the edge of his vision, and as he turned to order Rhaegar back, lest he too fall in, he found himself looking up into a pair of red eyes, set in a canine face that was perhaps twice the size of his own. The beast’s body was difficult to see against the snow, but from its outline, Daemon knew it to be no ordinary wolf. Blood pounded in his ears as he stared back, conscious of just how vulnerable the three of them were for a beast hungry for a meal.

I have no blade. He had left Dark Sister at the holdfast, and was armed with only a dagger. The terror that filled him was useless, so he let it turn to battle fury. He jerked the dagger free of its snow-clogged sheath, roaring at the creature as he prepared to strike, only to find his arm jerked downward.

“No!” Rhaegar shouted, arms wrapped tight around his and hanging onto it with all his weight. “That is Ghost! He is trying to help.”

Daemon struggled briefly, then halted, lest the dagger cut his other son. “Rhaegar—”

“He is helping, look!”

The beast had taken its red eyes off Daemon and was now digging at the patch that Jon had disappeared into, sending snow flying backward. Jon was helpless within. It could claw him, bite him, snap his neck—

Daemon wrapped his free arm around Rhaegar’s chest, his son struggling and kicking, shouting protests as Daemon broke his grip at last and freed his dagger hand. He turned back to the distracted beast, cold utterly forgotten, trying to assess where to strike to inflict as near-lethal damage as possible. He doubted he would get a second strike.

Its head disappeared into the snow briefly, and as Daemon coiled to stab into its ribs, ignoring Rhaegar’s screams, the beast scrambled back, jaws locked onto a dark shape that it pulled from the snow. Jon.

He was not aware of screaming his son’s name aloud. Daemon charged, a terrified rage fueling him as he aimed the dagger at its flank. Its hindquarters kicked in response, catching him right in his midsection, and Daemon went flying backward, breath hissing out on impact with the snow.

He fought to his feet, every limb shaking, the cold that found him now freezing him from within, a hundred visions swirling in his mind of what he would find. His son, lifeless, mangled, the snow turning crimson beneath him. A high-pitched shout found his ears through the roaring of the wind and his heartbeat, and Daemon raced to close once more—

Only to find his son with both arms hugged around the creature’s neck, face buried into the fur. Rhaegar was beside him, staring at the beast with wonder rather than fear. It had not yet moved to strike either, and Daemon swallowed the heart in his throat, approaching more slowly this time, ready to pull them from it so that he would have a clear angle.

Rhaegar turned back to Daemon and put himself between him and the beast. “Don’t! We know him, he would never hurt Jon.”

Daemon slowed, looking past him to see the beast licking Jon’s face as his son sobbed into his fur, body shaking. He lowered the dagger, watching its behavior carefully but finding no aggression. Its eyes locked on Daemon, and it lowered itself onto the ground, lying down, as though to communicate to him that it meant no harm.

“You know this beast?” Daemon asked, feeling as though he had somehow stepped into a dream.

“Ghost,” Rhaegar said. “Jon—we thought he had died. But he’s…protected us, before.”

Daemon continued to study the beast for a few moments longer. It could not be a wolf, not at that size. Could it be one of the fabled direwolves of House Stark? What in the hells would it be doing here in the Vale, following his children?

He sheathed his knife finally. With the fight gone from him, the cold had swept back in, and he could see Rhaegar’s teeth chattering with it, explaining the tremor to his voice as he had spoken. The storm had reclaimed its position as the gravest threat. They had gone no more than a quarter of the way, to Daemon’s best estimation.

A muffled roar sounded through the air then, above, and Daemon became aware at last of the swell of Caraxes’s battle-fury through their bond. The white of the snow swirling around them turned blindingly bright, and a faint warmth found his cheeks through the wind. The direwolf had sat back up, turning to the noise with caution, Jon still clinging to his fur.

Another flash lit the snow, followed by a loud, shaking thud just ahead. “Come,” Daemon said, relief leaving him weak. Even if Caraxes could not fly them back to the holdfast, he would provide all the warmth they needed.

Jon had looked up from the direwolf finally, and the creature gave his son a look. “Rhaegar,” Jon called.

Rhaegar went to his brother’s side, and Daemon watched in disbelief as Jon climbed onto the direwolf’s back, then nodded at Rhaegar to do the same. The direwolf rose to its feet, then fixed Daemon with a look that he could only describe as impatient.

Daemon stepped past him, following his sense of Caraxes, and the direwolf trotted after him, carrying his sons. After not even half a minute’s a trek, a large red shape became visible through the snow. A few steps later, the snow ended entirely, a thin border of slush giving way to dry, fire-baked mud and blackened vegetation.

Daemon stumbled to Caraxes’s side, placing his freezing hands against his scaled side, and closed his eyes, overwhelmed by relief. The wind whipped snow over along the dragon’s back, but they were sheltered from beside him, the ground itself radiating heat from what had likely been several passes of dragonflame.

It was the direwolf’s turn to be wary, but he still approached, lying down once more near Daemon’s feet to deposit his passengers. Daemon led them both closer to Caraxes’s head, halting beneath the shelter of his wings. His dragon craned his long neck to rest his face near them, breathing another gout of flame to warm the air and ground near them. The direwolf joined them after a moment, lying down on the warm ground beside his sons.

“We shall shelter here,” Daemon said. “And wait out the storm.”

That would leave plenty of time for answers.