#v; stood for what i believe in ( marvel )

[r0ugesun]

running with the wolves

Beta read by my wife @moonstruksandco ( ˘ ³˘)˘ᵋ ˘ )♥

Synopsis: Cregan Stark, the formidable Lord of Winterfell, eagerly awaits the arrival of his new betrothed, y/n, who has bewitched him since childhood. As winter sets in, he hopes to transform their arranged marriage into a union of love. However, y/n arrives with her own doubts, unsure if she can return his deep affection. Will their marriage blossom into love, or remain a cold duty? Cregan is determined to show her that their bond can be more than just an obligation on their wedding night.

Warnings: 18+ slow burn, smut, arranged marriage, loss of virginity, p in v sex (unprotected), breeding kink, rough sex, oral sex(both f/m receiving) missionary, mating press, doggy style lots of cum (I think all stark men cum bucket loads)

8k+ words likes and reblogs are highly appreciated ෆ/⟳ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

(Authors note: omg hayy I don’t know that much about Yorkshire accents aside from ackley bridge so I’m sorry in advanced if it’s not right :>)

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The wind howled through the ancient halls of Winterfell, carrying with it the biting chill of the northern winter. Cregan Stark, the Warden of the North, stood by the great hearth in the main hall, his keen grey eyes fixed on the entrance. The time had come for the arrival of his new betrothed, y/n, the most beautiful amongst house Tyrell.

From the moment he first saw her, Cregan had been captivated. Even as a young lad, her grace and elegance had set her apart. Now, as a grown woman, she was even more bewitching, and Cregan's heart swelled with a mix of anticipation and determination. He was resolved to turn their arranged marriage into a union of love.

As Cregan stood by the hearth, he watched the window, the snowflakes drifting lazily to the ground, a distant memory surfaced, warm and vivid against the icy present. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to be transported back to a time when he was just a young lad of twelve, visiting Highgarden with his family.

He remembered the journey vividly, how different the South had seemed compared to the North. The air was warmer, the colors more vibrant. He had wandered through the lush gardens, marveling at the flowers and plants that couldn’t survive the harsh winters of Winterfell. It was in those gardens that he first saw her.

Y/n had been around his age, a vision of beauty even then. She sat on a stone bench, engrossed in a book, her expression serene and detached. Her hair, shining in the sunlight, cascaded down her shoulders, and her delicate features were framed by the backdrop of blooming flowers. She seemed almost like a fairytale princess, so enchanting that he could scarcely believe she was real.

Without even realizing it his feet began to move on their own, he was like a moth being drawn to the flame that was her. As he approached her, His heart pounded in his chest, an unfamiliar but exhilarating feeling. She glanced up briefly from her book as he neared, her eyes meeting his for just a moment before returning to her reading.

“H-Hello” he said, trying to muster as much confidence as he could. “What are yeh reading?”

She responded without looking up this time, her voice calm and distant. “Hmm a collection of poems” she replied. “Do you like poetry?”

Cregan, caught off guard, nodded. “Aye. Though I don’t read much of it.”

She patted the space beside her, still not lifting her gaze from the pages. “You can sit if you want.”

He sat down slowly, feeling a strange sense of destiny in that moment. She continued to read aloud, her voice weaving the words into a tapestry of emotion and beauty. He listened, captivated not by the poetry but by her otherworldliness her grace, and the way she brought the words to life. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, completely in star struck, while she remained indifferent, too engrossed in her book to notice his adoration.

That was the last time they spoke just a few exchange of words. The rest of his visit to Highgarden was spent with his father and training with Y/N’s brothers and learning the ways of a lord, much to his chagrin. But whenever he could, he would steal glances at her from a window while she read in the garden, and across from her at dinner, for which his mother often scolded him.

"Cregan, it's impolite to stare" his mother whispered sharply during dinner one evening, nudging his foot under the table.

He tore his eyes away from y/n, his cheeks burning and crimson red. "I weren’t starin’, Mother.”

“Yeh most certainly were” she replied, her tone firm. “It’s not appropriate. Focus on yer meal.”

“But she’s… she’s so…”

“Enchantin’?” his mother finished for him, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Aye, she is. But yeh must remember yer manners, lad. Staring is unbecoming of a young lord.”

Cregan sighed, casting one last, fleeting glance at y/n, who was still in her own little world not casting a single glance his way. “Aye, mother….”

Despite his mother’s admonitions, his fascination with Y/N only grew, even as she remained blissfully unaware of his admiration.

Cregan opened his eyes, the memory fading as the cold reality of Winterfell settled back in. He sighed, turning away from the window. Some things, he mused, never truly changed.

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In the dimly lit carriage, y/n huddled under the blankets, trying to stave off the biting cold that seemed to seep through the very fabric of her clothes. Her mother sat beside her, wrapped in her own covers and trying to offer some semblance of warmth and comfort. The carriage jolted over the rough, snow covered road, and every bump made her shiver more.

Her brothers, true to their duty, were outside braving the harsh northern winter with their horses, though y/n could scarcely imagine how they managed. She, however, had the luxury of being confined to the carriage, a prisoner of her own anxieties and fears.

The stories she’d heard about Cregan Stark haunted her thoughts. The gruff warden of the north with a claymore sword so heavy it was said to be the size of a small man. To her, the very idea of marrying such a man was nightmarish. She couldn't remember much about him from his family’s previous visit to Highgarden all those years ago, but the tales of his fierceness and the imposing aura of the North made her dread the moment she would finally meet him.

The carriage seemed to creak with the weight of her mother's discontent. Her mother’s complaints, murmured under her breath but audible enough for y/n to hear, were laced with disdain. “I cannot believe we’ve had to send our only daughter off to marry a Stark”

“Their way of life, covered in stinking animal pelts, living amongst brutes who value strength over grace. It’s hardly the life for a Tyrell.” She said with disgust.

Her father’s stern gaze flicked towards her mother, his patience evidently wearing thin. "We’ve discussed this, Eliza. The match is made, and it’s for the good of House Tyrell. Stop lamenting what cannot be undone."

To him, this marriage was merely a strategic move, a means to secure more power for Highgarden. His daughter's feelings were of no consequence, his focus was solely on the political gain.

“Do you have to be so callous?” her mother’s voice broke through the gloom. “She is our daughter.”

Her father’s gaze remained unyielding. “The alliance with the Starks is necessary for the gain of our house. Y/n is to be a dutiful wife to a powerful lord it’s what she was raised for, if she does her duty right she’ll bear him many children further securing our power”

As her father’s harsh words continued to echo in her ears, y/n’s anger flared. She straightened up, glaring at him . “If you wanted to gift Cregan a broodmare, you should’ve gotten him one of the whores you visit in the brothels” she spat out, her voice trembling with defiance.

mother’s gasp of shock was barely audible over the creaking of the carriage. Her father’s eyes were wild, a hot fury flashing in them. Before y/n could react, his hand shot out, delivering a hard, stinging slap across her face. The sharp force of it made her head snap to the side, and she recoiled, stunned by the sudden violence.

“How dare you!” her father’s voice roared with anger.

y/n’s mother was frozen, her hand going to her mouth in shock. She looked at her husband with a mixture of horror and helplessness. “Henry, please—”

“Be silent!” he snapped, cutting her off. “I will not tolerate such insolence!“

He turned his icy gaze back to y/n, his face a mask of unrelenting severity. “You are about to become the wife of a powerful man. you are fortunate that I secured this arrangement, otherwise you would just end up being Cregans whore in some brothel anyway.”

Y/n’s heart sank as she heard the finality in his cruel words. She knew better than to argue with him—his decisions were made with an iron will that left no room for dissent.

as the carriage continued its slow journey through the snow, y/n's thoughts were plagued with anxiety and uncertainty. The grandeur of Winterfell loomed ahead, and with it, the reality of her new life as Cregan Stark’s bride. She could only hope that, amidst the cold and the gruffness of her new home, she might find a way to endure this new chapter of her life.

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As Cregan stood by the hearth, still lost in his own thoughts, the door swung open with a crash and his friends burst in, laughter and shouts echoing through the great hall.

“Cregan, ye dog! Heard the news, did we!” Jorah boomed, striding up to him and clapping him on the back with such force it nearly sent him stumbling forward.

“Aye, lad, congratulations!” Gendry called out, raising his tankard high. “A Tyrell, no less! Must’ve done somethin’ right to be landin’ a lass like that.”

Cregan, smiling, shook his head as he tried to make sense of the sudden uproar. “Cheers, lads. Bit early for a celebratory drink, ain’t it?”

Bram, always one for a jest, stepped forward with a grin. “Well, Cregan, we heard she’s real beauty, fairest in all the Seven Kingdoms. Quite the catch for a dog like you. Ain’t right, really, a face like hers and a face like yours.”

Cregan raised an eyebrow, a grin tugging at his lips. “Oh, is that so? And what about ye lot, then? All of ye been lookin’ in the mirror lately?”

The room erupted in laughter, and Bram waved a dismissive hand. “Aye, we might be a rough lot, but at least we ain’t got to worry ‘bout our faces bein’ compared to a rose.”

Robb, always quick with a quip, leaned in with a wink. “Might be true she’ll forget all ‘bout yer ugly mug once she gets a look at what’s really under yer tunic. you’ve got more to offer than just yer sorry looks.”

Cregan’s cheeks flushed slightly, but he laughed along, trying to maintain his composure. “Ah, so ye’re sayin’ it’s all in the size of me… character, is it?”

“Aye, that’s right!” Robb said with a grin. “Best thing about ye, Cregan, is that even if your face don’t make the cut, yer other qualities surely will.”

Cregan shook his head, laughing despite himself. “Well, if it’s me ‘other qualities’ that’ll win her over, then I reckon I’d best be makin’ sure she gets a good look at all of ‘em.”

Jorah slapped him on the back again, nearly sending him reeling. “Look at ye, all flustered! Never thought I’d see the day. Don’t worry, lad. What lass wouldn’t want a strong Northman?”

“Aye, just keep it down a bit, or you’ll have me blushing so hard I’ll be usin’ me face as a lantern” Cregan said, his grin widening.

The friends continued their banter, the atmosphere warm with camaraderie and laughter. As they raised their mugs in a final toast, Cregan felt a renewed sense of anticipation and affection for the future, no matter the teasing jabs from his mates.

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The room was alive with laughter and chatter as Cregan and his friends carried on with their banter. Jorah was in the middle of a lively tale from a recent hunt, while Robb and Gendry argued over the best way to handle a particularly stubborn horse.

The door creaked open, and in walked Lady Gilliane Glover and Lord Rickon Stark, their presence immediately silencing the room. Lady Gilliane, a woman of dignified grace, and Lord Rickon, tall and commanding, made their way over to their son.

“Cregan, me lad!” Lady Gilliane called out, her voice warm but authoritative. “Got a bit o’ news for ye.”

Cregan turned, a smile fading as he saw his parents. He stood, brushing his hands on his tunic. “Mother, Father, what brings ye here?”

Lord Rickon gave a nod, his face a mix of seriousness and pride. “Your brother spotted Y/N’s carriage on the road. They’ll be arrivin’ soon.”

The room quieted, the friends sensing the shift in the mood. Jorah nudged Cregan with a grin. “Looks like the real fun’s about to start, eh?”

Lady Gilliane gave a small, amused smile. “Aye, that’s right. Thought ye’d want to know. They’ll be here within the hour, so best be ready.”

Cregan’s heart raced, and he glanced at his friends, trying to mask his nerves. “Well, no time like the present, I suppose. Best get meself sorted.”

Lord Rickon placed a reassuring hand on Cregan’s shoulder. “Remember, lad, first impressions count. Show her what a proper Stark man ye are.”

“Aye, Father,” Cregan said, nodding. He turned to his friends with a determined look. “Ye lot best behave yerselves when she arrives. Don’t be givin’ her any more trouble than need be.”

The friends raised their mugs, grinning. “Aye, aye, Cregan! We’ll be on our best behavior,” Robb said, winking.

Lady Gilliane’s gaze softened as she looked at her son. “We’ll leave ye to it, then. Just remember, Cregan, she’ll be as nervous as ye, if not more. Show her the warmth of the North.”

As Lady Gilliane and Lord Rickon exited the hall, Cregan took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. The anticipation of meeting Y/N was building with every tick of the clock, and he knew the coming hours would be crucial.

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Y/n sat in the carriage, the stark contrast between the verdant landscapes of Highgarden and the harsh, icy expanse of Winterfell weighing heavily on her. The snow-clad scenery outside felt alien and unwelcoming compared to the lush greenery she had left behind. Each jolt of the carriage seemed to deepen her sense of displacement.

Her mother’s hand, warm and steady, was a source of comfort amid her growing anxiety. Y/N clung to it, drawing solace from its presence as she tried to quell her rising fears.

“We’re almost there, dear” her mother said softly, her voice a gentle balm against the cold atmosphere of the carriage. “Remember, we’re in this together.”

Y/n managed a small, appreciative smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thank you, Mother. It’s just… it’s so different from home.”

Her father, ever the pillar of stoicism, was peering out the window, his gaze fixed on the approaching Winterfell.

The carriage began to slow, the crunch of snow under the wheels signaling their arrival. As they came to a stop, y/n could see her father alighting first, his figure steady and authoritative as he approached Lord Rickon Stark.

“Lord Rickon” her father said, stepping forward with a formal nod. “It is a pleasure to see you again. Thank you for your gracious hospitality.”

Y/n and her mother remained in the carriage, the cold air seeping through the cracks in the doors. Her mother's hand squeezed hers gently, offering a fleeting moment of comfort in the face of her overwhelming anxiety.

"Mother" y/n whispered, her voice trembling. "What if I can't do this? I-I’m scared"

Her mother turned to her, eyes filled with sympathy and understanding. "Oh, my dear, I know it seems daunting. But you have a strength within you that you may not yet realize. You have always been resilient."

Tears welled up in y/n's eyes. "I feel so far from home. Everything here is so cold, so harsh."

Her mother reached up, brushing a tear from

y/n's cheek. "I know, darling. Highgarden's warmth and beauty are hard to leave behind. But you must remember, you have the ability to adapt and thrive. This place will feel like home in time."

Y/n nodded, trying to take comfort in her mother's words, but the knot in her stomach remained tight. "And what of Father? He seems so determined, but... he never cares for how I feel."

Her mother's expression darkened momentarily before she masked it with a gentle smile. "don't let him weigh you down. Focus on yourself and your own strength. You are here to build a new life, and I believe in you."

The carriage door opened, and the cold air rushed in, a stark reminder of the world awaiting her. Her father was already engaged in conversation with Lord Rickon Stark, their voices carrying a tone of formality and mutual respect.

"It's time" her mother said softly, giving y/n's hand one last reassuring squeeze. "Show them the grace and strength you possess. You are more than capable y/n."

With a deep breath, y/n steeled herself and stepped out of the carriage. The cold air bit at her skin, but she walked forward, her mother following closely behind.

Y/n's mother nudged her gently, drawing her attention away from the imposing figure of Lord Rickon. "Y/n, dear" she whispered, "Lord Cregan is approaching you."

Y/n's heart skipped a beat as she turned to see Cregan making his way towards her. He was even taller and more formidable than she remembered, his broad shoulders and strong build making him appear larger than life. She stiffened, her body tensing with apprehension.

Cregan's eyes, a deep and thoughtful blue, met hers as he stopped before her. He could see the trepidation in her gaze, the way her hands clutched the folds of her cloak. Despite the fear evident in her demeanor, she managed to muster a polite greeting.

"Lord Cregan" she said, her voice steady but tinged with a slight tremor. "It is an honor to be here."

Cregan offered a warm smile, though he felt a pang of hurt and self-consciousness at the sight of her fear. He noticed the redness around her eyes, the telltale signs that she had been crying. The realization made his heart ache—she was far from home, surrounded by strangers, and faced with the daunting prospect of marrying him, a man she barely remembered.

"Lady y/n" he responded, his voice gentle. "The honor is mine. Welcome to Winterfell."

Y/n nodded, her posture rigid. "Thank you, my lord."

He could see her struggling to maintain her composure, her attempts to be polite masking the underlying fear and uncertainty. He wanted to reassure her, to tell her that she was safe here with him, but he knew his words might not carry much weight given the circumstances.

"Ye must be tired from yer journey" Cregan said, trying to ease the tension. "I hope the accommodations we’ve prepared for ye are to yer liking."

She glanced around, her eyes briefly meeting his before darting away. "I'm sure they will be, my lord. Thank you."

Cregan's heart softened at her evident discomfort. He could only imagine how overwhelming this experience must be for her—leaving the warmth and familiarity of Highgarden for the cold and formidable North, betrothed to an intimidating stranger.

"Please, if there is anything ye need, do not hesitate to ask," he added, his tone earnest. "I want ye to feel at home here."

Y/N nodded again, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you, Lord Cregan."

As the formalities continued, Cregan remained by her side, acutely aware of her apprehension. He could see the way she shivered slightly in the cold, her delicate frame dwarfed by the heavy cloak she wore. The vulnerability in her eyes struck a chord within him, igniting a protective instinct he hadn’t anticipated.

He knew it would take time for her to adjust, to feel comfortable in this new and unfamiliar place. And while her fear and anxiety might hurt him, he understood the reasons behind them. She was far from home, thrust into a situation beyond her control, and he was determined to show her that she had nothing to fear.

As the crowd began to disperse, Cregan leaned in slightly, his voice low and sincere. "I hope ye will come to find Winterfell as welcoming as Highgarden, Lady y/n. We Northerners may seem cold, but we are loyal and true. Ye have my word on that."

Y/n looked up at him, her eyes searching his for a moment before she nodded, a hint of hope mingling with her fear. "…I will do my best."

He smiled softly, hoping to convey his sincerity. "And I will do my best to make this place a home for ye."

With that, they parted, y/n retreating to her quarters with her mother while Cregan watched her go, a mix of emotions churning within him. He was determined to prove himself to her, to show her that beneath his intimidating exterior lay a heart of gold capable of warmth and compassion.

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The day of the wedding arrived, casting a serene hush over Winterfell. The godswood was adorned for the occasion, the ancient weirwood standing sentinel over the ceremony, its pale bark and blood-red leaves seeming to echo the gravity of the moment.

In her chambers, y/n adjusted her maiden’s cloak for the final time. The rich green of House Tyrell’s sigil contrasted sharply with the snowy landscape visible through the window. Her father, though distant and stern, was prepared to escort her. As they approached the godswood, y/n’s heart pounded in her chest, the weight of the moment pressing heavily on her.

Her father’s expression was somber, but he offered her a curt nod, signaling it was time. Together, they walked through the snow, the crunching of their footsteps the only sound breaking the silence. The guests had gathered, their breaths visible in the chill air, and they fell into a hushed reverence as y/n and her father approached the heart tree.

Cregan waited beneath the weirwood, his eyes fixed on the approaching bride. As she neared, his breath caught slightly, a mixture of awe and anticipation in his gaze. The grandeur of y/n’s beauty was amplified by the solemnity of the godswood, her presence seeming almost ethereal in the fading light.

When they reached the base of the tree, Cregan’s voice rang out clearly, cutting through the stillness. “Who comes? Who comes before the gods?”

Y/n’s father’s voice was steady as he replied,

“Y/n of House Tyrell comes here to be wed. A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble, she comes to beg the blessings of the gods. Who comes to claim her?”

Cregan’s response was filled with a fervent resolve. “Me, Cregan of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell. I claim her. Who gives her?”

Y/n’s father turned to her, his voice formal but lacking warmth. “I, Henry of House Tyrell, her father, gives her.”

He then addressed y/n, his tone clipped. “Lady y/n, will you take this man?”

Y/n’s voice trembled slightly but was resolute. “I take this man.”

With the formalities completed, Cregan and y/n joined hands and knelt before the weirwood. They bowed their heads, submitting to the gods in silent prayer. The moment was charged with a profound intimacy, the ancient tree bearing witness to their vows.

After a few moments, Cregan gently removed

y/n’s maiden’s cloak, revealing the intricate embroidery of House Tyrell on her dress. With great care, he draped over her shoulders a new cloak—the sigil of House Stark now displayed proudly.

The crowd erupted into applause, their cheers ringing out as Cregan and y/n stood together. The ceremony was complete, the ancient bond of the godswood now symbolizing the beginning of their shared life.

As they walked back towards the castle, Cregan stole glances at y/n, his admiration and anticipation palpable. Despite the harshness of Winterfell’s climate and the gravity of their new life, the day had marked a hopeful new chapter for both of them.

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Y/n's heart pounded as Cregan guided her through the cold, imposing corridors of Winterfell. The castle's heavy stone walls seemed to close in on her, amplifying her sense of isolation. Cregan's presence beside her was both comforting and intimidating, she couldn’t shake the fear that gripped her heart.

They arrived at Cregan's chambers, where a warm fire crackled in the hearth, casting a soft, inviting glow. He gestured for her to enter first, and after a brief hesitation, she stepped inside.

"Please, make yerself comfortable," Cregan said, closing the door behind them. His northern accent was thick, adding a rugged charm to his words. "Would ye like somethin' to drink? A bit o' wine, mayhaps, to help ye warm up?"

Y/n nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yes, thank you."

Cregan poured a glass of wine and handed it to her, his gaze lingering on her as she took a small sip. He could see the tension in her posture and wanted to ease her fears, to show her that he was not the monster she imagined.

"Y/n," he began, his voice low and earnest, the thick accent wrapping each word in a soft embrace, "I know this must be overwhelmin'. I want ye to know that I understand yer fears, and I swear I’ll do everythin' in me power to make ye feel safe and cherished here."

She looked up at him, her eyes wide with a mix of apprehension and curiosity. "Thank you, my lord," she said, her voice quivering. "I… I don't know what to expect."

Cregan took a step closer, his gaze filled with a yearning that spoke of deep emotion. "Ye can call me Cregan" he said, the warmth in his northern accent making his words even more poignant. "And I need ye to hear me now, for it’s somethin’ I’ve carried with me for years. From the moment I first beheld ye, me heart was forever altered."

Y/n's breath hitched, her eyes searching his face for the truth behind his words. Cregan's expression was tender, his gaze reflecting a vulnerability she hadn’t expected. He took a deep breath, as if gathering the courage to bare his soul.

"I remember the first time I saw ye in the gardens of Highgarden," he said softly, his voice weaving a tapestry of emotion. "I was just a lad, new to the beauty of the south. Everythin’ around me was lush and vibrant, but when I saw ye, it was as if my world fell apart. Ye were like a vision of ethereal grace amidst the greenery. The flowers and the trees—they seemed mere shadows compared to ye. In that moment, it was clear that ye were the true beauty of the garden."

Y/n's eyes widened, and a flush of color spread across her cheeks. She could hardly breathe as she processed his confession. "Since then?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

Cregan nodded, his gaze steady and full of longing. "Aye, since then. Ye were a beacon of light in me life, and that memory has lingered, burnin’ bright in me heart. I’ve longed to be near ye, not merely for the sake of duty, but because ye’ve ensnared my heart in a way no one else ever could."

Her heart fluttered wildly at his words, the warmth of the fire mingling with the warmth of his confession. She had always felt like a pawn in her father’s game, never imagining that someone like Cregan could see her so profoundly.

"I didn’t know" she said softly, her voice catching in her throat. "I thought... I thought you would be distant and cold."

Cregan's smile widened, his eyes soft with pure affection. "Aye the North may be cold, but my heart is only filled with warmth for ye. I want ye to see the real me, to know that I am here for ye with all that I am."

She looked into his eyes, seeing a depth of sincerity and yearning that shifted her perception. Perhaps this marriage could be more than a mere alliance. Maybe it could be the beginning of something profoundly beautiful.

"Thank you, Cregan…." she whispered, feeling a newfound sense of calm and hope. "I... I want to try."

Cregan’s smile was full of warmth and relief. "Tha’s all I ask, Y/n. We’ll take this one step at a time, together."

As they stood there, hand in hand, the fire crackling softly in the hearth, Y/n felt a spark of hope ignite in her heart, seeing Cregan in a new light.

Cregan's eyes never left Y/n's as he took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted this moment to be perfect, to reassure her of his intentions.

"Y/n" he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, "may I kiss ye?"

Y/n's breath hitched, her cheeks flushing scarlet. She hesitated for a moment, then gave a small nod, her eyes never leaving his. "Yes, Cregan. You may."

Cregan moved closer, his hand gently cupping her cheeks as he leaned in. He pressed his lips to hers in a soft tender, almost hesitant kiss, his touch gentle and reassuring. Y/n responded, her initial nervousness melting away as she felt the warmth and sincerity in his kiss.

When he pulled back, he looked into her eyes, searching for any sign of discomfort. Seeing none, he smiled softly. "Ye're so beautiful, Y/n."

She blushed again, a shy smile tugging at her lips. "Thank you, Cregan."

He took her hand, leading her to the bed. As they stood beside it, he gently picked her up, cradling her in his arms. Y/n gasped softly, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he carried her. He laid her down on the bed with the utmost care, as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

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Cregan's gaze remained locked on Y/n’s face, his eyes filled with a deep, reverent admiration. He lowered himself beside her on the bed, his hand still cupping her cheek. “I’ve never seen anyone so beautiful” he whispered, his voice filled with awe. “I can’t believe yer finally mine. My wife.”

Y/n’s heart fluttered at the sincerity in his voice. The way he looked at her made her feel cherished, his admiration lighting a fire within her. Her apprehension melted away as she reached up, cupping his face in return. “And I’m grateful to be yours, Cregan.”

Their lips met again, this time with more fervor. The kiss deepened as Cregan’s hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her closer. Y/n’s hands roamed over his shoulders, pulling him into the kiss with equal intensity. The warmth of his touch, combined with the gentle urgency of their embrace, made her feel as if she was floating.

Cregan’s breath mingled with hers as he pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against hers. “I’ve wanted this so much” he whispered. “I’ve wanted ye.”

Y/n’s eyes fluttered shut, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze and the sincerity of his words. She felt a new, desperate longing surge within her, her body responding to his touch with an eagerness she hadn’t expected. “Please, Cregan” she breathed out, her voice trembling with emotion.

Their lips met again, each kiss more passionate than the last. The world outside seemed to fade away as they lost themselves in the moment, their breaths coming in sync as their yearning for each other deepened with every touch.

Cregan's kisses grew more intense, his touch transforming from gentle caresses to an urgent, burning desire. He pulled back just enough to look into Y/n's eyes, his own dark with passion. "I want to see all of ye, to feel ye" he said softly, his voice rough with need.

With deliberate care, he started to undress, his movements slow and deliberate. He tossed his cloak aside, revealing his strong muscular frame. Y/n's breath caught in her throat as she watched him, his hardened form visible through his small clothes, making her heart race with a mix of anticipation and nervous excitement.

Cregan's hands moved to his shirt, sliding it off with a practiced ease. His gaze remained locked on Y/n as he undressed, his eyes filled with a burning intensity. His hands lingered on the waistband of his smallclothes, his hardness evident and stirring a deep, aching longing within Y/n.

When he was finally freed his cock, Cregan approached Y/n with a tender but determined expression. He reached for her cloak, slipping it off her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. His fingers moved deftly to her dress, his touch gentle but purposeful as he began to unlace it.

The fabric fell away, revealing her bare chest to his gaze. Cregan's breath caught at the sight, his eyes roaming over her exposed skin with a mixture of reverence and desire.

"Ye're stunning," he whispered, his voice filled with awe. "I want to cherish every part of ye."

Yn's skin tingled under his gaze, her heart pounding as she felt both exposed and cherished.

Cregan's hands continued their exploration, his touch both reverent and possessive. He leaned in to kiss her again, his lips trailing hot, desperate kisses across her neck and shoulders.

His hands roamed over her bare skin, his touch igniting a fierce desire within her. She gasped, her body arching into his touch, as he pressed her into the bed with a controlled but eager force. His kisses became more fervent, his hands gripping her waist as he explored her body with a possessive urgency.

"I've longed for this moment" Cregan said between kisses, his voice rough with need.

Yn responded with equal fervor, her hands gripping his shoulders as she kissed him back with a desperate passion. "Show me, Cregan" she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

"Show me how much you want me."

The room was filled with the sounds of their mingled breaths and wet sloppy kisses as they lost themselves in the moment. Cregan's touch was a blend of tenderness and raw desire, each movement and kiss building a profound connection that left them both breathless and yearning for more.

As the kiss deepened, Cregan's touch grew more urgent, his hands roaming over Y/n's body with increasing desperation. His kisses, once tender and exploratory, became more demanding, his breaths ragged as he tried to control his growing desire. Yet, despite the intensity of their embrace, Cregan seemed to hold back, his movements tinged with an inner struggle to remain gentle.

Y/n could sense his restraint and the tension in his body. She was overwhelmed by the fire burning within her, her own desire driving her to push past his tentative touches.

"Cregan" she gasped between kisses, her voice trembling with need. "I want you. I want you to claim me fully."

Cregan's breath hitched, his eyes dark with a mix of surprise and longing. "Y/n... I-I don't want to hurt ye" he murmured, his voice strained as he tried to keep his composure, he promised himself that he would be gentle, only touching her as if she were made of the most delicate glass and now he’d already been more rough than he intended.

But Y/n's voice was resolute, her gaze fixed on him with a desperate intensity. "No, Cregan. I want you to make me yours completely.” She whined, but she saw the look on his eyes he wouldn’t relent unless she pushed him towards his breaking point. “I want you to fuck a baby into me. I need you ple—“

Cregan didn't let you finish. His lips crashed against yours in a kiss that ignited a wildfire within. He held your face tenderly yet firmly, his touch a lifeline as you clung to him, desperate for more. His tongue explored the depths of your mouth, tasting every inch with a hunger that bordered on feral.

The clash of your teeth, the fervor of your kiss, it was a battle, a dance of dominance that you were willing to lose.

Cregan's tongue delved deeper, drawing a breathless moan from you. His scent enveloped you, intoxicating and heady, making your knees buckle with longing. It was as if the tether to your senses was fraying, leaving you to melt into a molten pool beneath his commanding presence.

The heat coursing through your body was a familiar sensation, yet it had never burned this intensely. It surged through you, tightening your nipples and pooling between your thighs, setting every nerve aflame.

Lost in the haze of his searing kisses, you scarcely noticed when he eased your back farther onto the bed, his body a solid, protective weight above you. Your eyes met, a silent conflagration passing between you, before he claimed your lips again with a gentler fervor, the same intensity simmering beneath the surface.

"Do you truly want this? With me?" Cregan's voice was a hushed murmur against your lips, a plea and a promise intertwined.

"Yes, husband" you breathed, the words a vow of your own.

His lips brushed your ear, his breath a tantalizing whisper that sent shivers cascading down your spine. "I am going to make love to ye now."

Your nipples hardened at his words, a raw moan of anticipation escaping your lips as he took in your form, the vulnerable softness of your skin a feast for his hungry gaze.

Cregan lowered his head, his lips tracing a path of fire down your neck, over your collarbone, each kiss a desperate silent vow. His hands followed, exploring, caressing, leaving no inch of you untouched.

"Yer exquisite" he murmured, his voice a reverent whisper against your skin. His touch was a balance of possession and adoration, a worship that left you breathless.

The cool air kissed your overheated skin as he continued to explore you, Every touch, every kiss, was a symphony of sensations, a crescendo of passion that left you aching for more.

his eyes drinking in the sight of you, slowly consumed with lust for him, with a reverence that made your heart stutter. "My wife" he whispered, the words a sacred incantation.

Cregan leaned in, capturing your lips once more in a kiss that was both fierce and possessive. His hands roamed your body with a fervent curiosity, memorizing every curve, every dip, leaving a trail of molten fire in their wake.

Your body responded to him, arching into his touch, a silent plea for more.

His kisses grew more insistent, his touch more demanding, as he made his way down your body. He worshipped you with every kiss, every caress, until you were trembling with need beneath him.

"Cregan," you breathed, your voice a soft plea.

His eyes met yours, dark and intense. "I'm here, Y/n" he murmured, his voice a soothing balm. "I'm here."

Cregan's gaze was fixed on your taut, aching nipples. He wasted no time, his heated mouth enveloping one of your tight, sensitive peaks. You gasped as your back arched in response, the initial shock of his touch quickly melting into a rhythm of pleasure.

Each time his cheeks hollowed as he suckled, your gasps turned to desperate pants, while his fingers teased the other abandoned nipple, pulling and twisting it gently.

Cregan's mouth pulling harder on your nipple, his tongue lavishing attention on the delicate bud. Every flick of his tongue sent waves of sensation through you, stirring a throbbing need between your legs.

The pulsing ache demanded more, and your hand, almost involuntarily, slipped between your thighs. The damp evidence of your desire left you breathless and mortified.

"Show me yer hand" Cregan's voice rumbled, his tone firm.

"It's... it's embarrassing-"

Without hesitation, Cregan parted your thighs and deftly removed your small clothes, leaving you exposed before him. His gaze settled on your glistening core, and a satisfied smile tugged at his lips.

"C-cregan!"

"Y/n" he murmured, his eyes locking onto yours with a mix of adoration and hunger.

"Ye've got the prettiest little cunt."

his words made your entire face burn and turn a dark crimson. The raw honesty in his voice left you breathless, your heart pounding in your chest.

“D-don’t look so closely!”

Without wasting another moment, he lowered his head between your thighs, his hot breath ghosting over your sensitive flesh.

your body trembling with need. When his tongue finally made contact, a moan escaped your lips, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you.

Cregan's tongue moved with practiced skill, each stroke and flick sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. His lips latched onto your clit, sucking gently before releasing it with a soft pop, only to dive back in with renewed fervor.

The lewd slurping sounds filled the room, mixing with your breathless moans and the crackling of the fire.

Your thighs quivered, the sensation of his mouth on you pushing you closer to the edge. "Cregan" you gasped loudly, your voice shaking. "Please, don't stop."

He didn't need to be told twice. His tongue delved deeper, exploring every inch of your soaking wet cunt, his fingers joining in to tease and caress. The combined sensations were overwhelming, your body arching off the bed as you rode the waves of pleasure.

When you finally came, it was with a cry of his name, your body convulsing as the orgasm ripped through you. Cregan didn't relent though, his tongue continuing its relentless assault, lapping up your juices with a moan, prolonging your climax until you were a trembling, breathless mess.

Only then did he pull back, his lips glistening with your arousal, his eyes dark with desire.

He moved up your body, his hands bracing on either side of your head as he leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

You could taste yourself on his lips, the intimate act deepening the connection between you.

But it still wasn’t enough for you, gathering your courage, you whispered, "Cregan?"

His eyes opened, soft and warm as they met yours. "Aye, love?"

You bit your lip, feeling a flush creep up your cheeks. "Can I... can I touch you?"

A spark of interest flared in his eyes, and he propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at you. "Touch me? Where?" He said teasingly.

You swallowed hard, your gaze dropping to where his cock lay, painfully hard and twitching. "There" you whined softly, reaching out tentatively.

Cregan's lips curved upwards. "Aye, love. Ye can touch me."

Your hand wrapped around his shaft, the heat of him searing your palm. You marveled at the feel of his skin, so smooth and yet so firm beneath your touch. Cregan's breath hitched, his muscles tensing as you explored him.

"Like this?" you asked, looking up at him for guidance.

He nodded, his voice rough with restraint.

"Aye, just like that. A bit firmer, love."

You tightened your grip slightly, your hand moving up and down his length in slow, deliberate strokes. The sight of him, so vulnerable and exposed, filled you with a heady sense of power and intimacy.

Cregan's hand covered yours, guiding your movements. "Tha's it, love. Yer doin' so well" he moaned, his voice laced with praise and pleasure.

As you continued to stroke him, you noticed a bead of precum forming at the tip. The sight of it, glistening and inviting, sparked a boldness within you. You couldn’t help yourself, you leaned forward, your tongue darting out to lick it away. Cregan groaned loudly, his hips bucking

involuntarily at the sensation.

"Fuck! Y/n" he gasped, his hand tightening around yours.

"Do that again."

You obliged, your tongue swirling around the thick head of his cock, tasting the salty essence of him. The act felt both daring and incredibly arousing, each lick eliciting a new sound of pleasure from Cregan.

Encouraged by his response, you took him deeper into your mouth, your lips closing around his shaft as you began to bob your head.

You were still unaccustomed to his size though, what you couldn’t fit in your mouth you stroked with your hand.

Cregan's hand tangled in your hair, guiding your movements as you pleasured him.

"Ye're so fuckin’ good to me, love" he groaned, his voice thick with need. "So perfect."

The praise spurred you on, your pace quickening as you took him deeper, your hand stroking the base of his cock in time with your movements. Cregan's breaths grew ragged, his body tense with the effort to hold back.

When he finally came, it was with a guttural moan, his release bursting in your mouth.

You swallowed eagerly, wanting to take all of him, to show him the same pleasure he had given you.

As you pulled back, you looked up at him, your eyes wide and full of adoration.

Cregan's chest heaved, his eyes glazed with satisfaction as he pulled you into his arms, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss.

But the night was far from over and the hunger in his eyes told you he was far from satisfied. You felt a renewed wave of desire wash over you, your body eager for more of him.

"Are ye ready for more, love?" he asked, his voice husky with desire. His hand trailed down your body, caressing your breasts and waist, finally coming to rest between your legs.

His fingers teased your wetness, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. "Yer so wet for me."

You nodded, your breath hitching as he continued to stroke you. "Yes, Cregan. I want you. I want you to take me."

His eyes darkened with a primal need, and he positioned himself between your legs, spreading them wide. "I'll be gentle at first, love," he promised, guiding his cock to your entrance.

"But I won't be able to hold back for long."

You felt the tip of his cock pressing against you, and your heart raced with anticipation.

He pushed forward slowly, entering you with a smooth, deliberate motion. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and painful sting as he stretched you to accommodate his large size.

Cregan's eyes never left yours, his gaze filled with love and desire. "Yer so tight, love. So perfect" he groaned, pushing deeper until he was fully seated inside you.

The feeling of being completely filled by him was indescribable, a blend of fullness and heat that made you gasp. "Cregan," you moaned, your hands clutching at his shoulders.

He began to move, his thrusts slow and gentle at first, allowing you to adjust to the sensation. But as your moans grew louder and your hips began to move in time with his, his restraint faltered. His pace quickened, each thrust deeper and harder than the last.

"You feel so good, Y/n," he growled, his voice rough with need. "I can't hold back any longer."

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as he pounded into you.

The force of his thrusts drove you higher, making the bed hit the walls roughly, a testament to how greedily he was fucking into you.

Cregan shifted his position, lifting your legs higher and pressing them against your chest. The new angle allowed him to penetrate you even deeper, and you screamed his name as he took you harder.

"That's it, love. Take all of my cock," he urged, his eyes locked on your face, watching your every reaction.

The pressure built within you, the pleasure mounting to an unbearable peak. With a final, powerful thrust, you shattered, your orgasm crashing over you in waves. Your body convulsed around him, gripping his cock as he continued to drive into you.

Cregan was relentless, his own release building. He flipped you onto your stomach, pulling you onto your hands and knees. He entered you from behind, his hands gripping your hips as he pounded into you with abandon.

"Fuck, Y/n" he groaned, his voice a rough whisper. "I'm gonna fill ye up. Every last drop."

Cregan's movements became more erratic as he neared his release, his breathing heavy and labored. You could feel the tension building within him, every muscle in his body coiling tighter and tighter. His thrusts grew deeper, more powerful, and you knew he was close.

With a final, powerful thrust, Cregan's hips stilled, pressing deep inside you. His entire body tensed, and he let out a loud, guttural groan, his face contorted in pleasure. You could feel the hot rush of his cum filling you, pulse after pulse, more than you had ever imagined. The sheer volume of it overwhelmed you, a torrent of heat flooding your insides.

"Fuck, Y/n," he groaned, his voice rough with satisfaction. "Take all of it. Every last drop."

He held himself inside you for a moment longer, his cock throbbing with each spurt of cum. Then, slowly, he began to pull out, the sensation almost too much to bear. As he withdrew, you felt a gush of his cum ooze out of you, warm and thick.

Cregan watched, mesmerized, as his release leaked from your entrance. The sight seemed to ignite something primal in him, and he quickly brought his fingers to your dripping core. He gently pushed two fingers inside you, making sure to plug the flow.

"Can't let it go to waste" he murmured, his voice a mix of possessiveness and tenderness. "Want every drop to stay inside ye."

His fingers moved within you, ensuring his cum was thoroughly spread.

You felt another wave of pleasure as he gently massaged your sensitive walls, the sensation of being so full and claimed by him overwhelming you. Cregan leaned down, kissing the small of your back, his breath warm against your skin. "Yer mine, Y/n. All mine," he whispered, his fingers still inside you, holding his seed in place.

You lay there, breathless and trembling, feeling utterly claimed and cherished by him.

Cregan slowly withdrew his fingers, ensuring that every drop of his cum remained inside you. He gently flipped you onto your back, his eyes filled with an intensity that made your heart race.

As he settled beside you, his strong arms wrapped around your body, pulling you close. His warmth enveloped you, a comforting contrast to the cool air of the room.

He pressed his lips to your forehead, a tender kiss that lingered. Then, he moved to your cheeks, planting soft, loving kisses on each one. His lips brushed your nose, and then he found your lips, kissing you with a gentleness that was almost reverent.

"Y/n" he murmured between kisses, his voice filled with emotion. "I'm so glad ye're mine."

You felt a swell of affection in your chest, the sweetness of his words and the tenderness of his touch filling you with a profound sense of belonging. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close as he continued to kiss you.

Cregan's kisses were endless, each one a declaration of his love and devotion. He kissed your eyelids, your temples, your jawline, and your chin, his lips exploring every inch of your face with a loving intensity that made you feel cherished beyond measure.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "So perfect. I want to spend every moment of our lives together, showing ye how much I adore ye."

He held you tighter, his hands stroking your hair, your back, your sides. His touch was soothing, a balm to your still-racing heart.

The rough, demanding lover from moments ago was now a gentle giant, cradling you in his arms with infinite care.

Cregan pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. "Are ye alright, love?" he asked, his voice soft with concern. "Did I hurt ye?"

You shook your head, smiling up at him. "No, Cregan. You were perfect. I'm more than alright."

His expression softened even further, a look of relief washing over his face. "Good," he whispered, pressing another kiss to your lips. "I'll always take care of ye, Y/n. Always."

You nestled closer to him, resting your head on his broad chest. The rhythmic beat of his heart was a comforting lullaby, and you felt a deep sense of contentment wash over you.

A red rose grew up out of ice frozen ground with no one around to see it. The thought lingered in your mind, a symbol of the unexpected beauty and love that had blossomed between you.

Cregan continued to kiss you, his lips never straying far from your skin, as he held you in a protective, loving embrace.

In that moment, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together. Cregan's sweet, endless kisses and his tender words were a promise of a future filled with love, passion, and unwavering devotion.

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆ ⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆ ⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

[entitled-fangirl]

A brilliant melody.

Cregan Stark x quiet!reader

Summary: Cregan marries a woman who never speaks. When she finally does, he feels his heart melt three times over.

Warnings: SMUT (p in v), talk of abuse, tears

A/n: I've been wanting some kind of cool transitions for my writing. Like instead of the "...", some people have really cool art there. Does anyone know how to do that? I hope that makes sense 😬

Masterlist

..................................................

She was quiet. 

Being surrounded by the loud men of the north made her a quiet girl.

Cregan wasn't sure what to do with her. 

…

"You're a meek thing, aren't you?" Cregan asked as the two walked the courtyard of Winterfell.

In one day, they'd be wed. Bonded for life.

She only nodded.

She only ever really nodded or shook her head. 

He hummed as they continued walking. 

Her father had told Cregan of this days before, as if it was a defect that could put a halt to their betrothal plans. Cregan made sure to assure her father that it was not.

After all, she could speak. She just chose not to.

"Winterfell is beautiful in the winter," he began to ramble. "When the snow falls, it covers all of this in its brilliant white. Do you enjoy the snow?"

She considered his question and gave a small nod.

He grinned, "That's my northern girl. Luckily, Winterfell is warm." He noticed the light shiver in her frame. "Perhaps we should go back indoors. Don't want my future bride to freeze before I can place my house cloak upon her shoulders?"

…

True to his word, Cregan managed to place his cloak over her shoulders the very next day. It was a wondrous ceremony filled with many from across the North. 

Everyone gawked at the beauty of the new Lady of Winterfell.

But when one-by-one they moved to speak to her, Cregan was quick to deny them.

The two enjoyed the feast after. Seated at a high table, Cregan often leaned over to whisper things to her.

"You look radiant. Like the sun itself."

"I do believe the other lords may be envious that I have captured the most gorgeous woman of Westeros."

"I do wish you'd eat more. You've hardly touched the plate."

It was a strange sight, seeing such a burly brute of a man whisper sweetly to his wife.

"Is something bothering you?"

She shook her head.

Cregan sighed. "I've only known you for a few days, but I do believe I recognize the shaking of one's hands to associate with nerves."

It was true. Her hands shook violently.

"Is it the bedding ceremony?"

She shrugged.

His brows raised and he leaned closer, "You can be honest with me. I… I want you to be honest with me."

The woman looked down at her hands in thought. Finally, she looked back up at him and nodded.

"Aye. I see." Cregan leaned away and rested his elbows on the table, his head in his hands as he rubbed at his forehead. "Then I'll call it off."

He didn't miss the way her brows pulled together.

"The ceremony, lovely. I'll call it off." 

…

Not long after, Cregan stood and held his hand out to her. "May I dance with you, dear wife?"

She grabbed his hand with enthusiasm. It seemed she didn't need words, for expressions were enough.

He smiled at her as he lead her to the dance floor. 

Cregan was a lousy dancer. Being a northern lord meant there were many more important matters than learning how to properly dance. So, it was put aside. 

He knew the steps in truth, and he could lead just fine, his steps were just too harsh, his movements too calculated. 

It was just not how he expressed himself.

She, though, was marvelous.

It was as if each step was not one of a practiced art. It was as if it was how she naturally moved. 

Cregan was in so much awe that he nearly forgot to continue the lead. 

She didn't need words to express herself. Her movements were enough.

He felt as if he was finally seeing her. 

And she was beautiful.

The song ended, to Cregan's surprise as he snapped from his thoughts, and the guests clapped for their Lord and Lady of Winterfell.

…

Honoring his word, Cregan forbade the ceremony. No other living creature would be a witness to their consummation but the two of them.

After laying her upon the rich furs upon their bed, he was careful to properly prepare her to take him. 

Now, he forced himself to do so slowly, his hips slowly pushed to meet hers as he entered her.

She hissed lightly at the pain, and he swore he heard a small noise come from her throat instinctually.

He began to wonder what her voice sounded like.

Once seated in her fully, he paused to give her a moment to breathe. Her breath was quickened and her hands gripped his biceps as she tried to regain herself.

Cregan placed a light kiss to her lips, basking in the newness of her lips against his, as well as the eagerness she gave back as they did so.

Her hands slid up to cup his cheeks, suddenly gaining confidence.

"Have you adjusted, pretty girl?"

He shifted his hips, not thinking much as he waited for her response.

The sweetest breathy moan left her lips.

Cregan's eyes widened, and he had to stop himself from letting his lust take over then and there.

He tucked his face into her neck, laying heavy kisses along the way. "Easy now. Just tap me to stop."

And with that, he began to move his hips.

Not much came from her lips. She was used to not using her voice, that it almost seemed as if it was more work to use it then stay silent. It was hard for Cregan to tell her feelings, so he often had to tilt his head back up to gauge her reaction by her expressions alone.

He didn't realize how much he spoke in general until he was around her. How someone could happily be so silent, he wasn't sure.

But if the scratching against his back was any measure, he'd say he was pleasing her well.

"You're taking me so pretty."

She practically preened at his praise, her breath catching or escaping each time.

At one point, he pressed his hips firmly to hers, reaching deeper than he had before.

His face found its way to her neck again, her hands pulling at his hair.

But he paused, catching his breath and trying to instill a reaction from her.

Her hands recaptured his hair and pulled again. When he still didn't move, she tried to shift her hips to gain more friction. He was enjoying every second, despite the mere torture it was to not chase his own high.

He pressed a sloppy kiss to her neck, "Patience."

Her motions should have been enough of a reaction for him, but he wanted more. He'd do anything to hear her voice more. 

One of his hands moved down to her clit, pressing his thumb down and circling the bundle of nerves. 

A small whine came from her throat.

He felt warmth spread across his body, "Needy, aren't you?"

Her hand made a last-ditch effort to pull at his hair. He could hear her barely contained breath in his ear and a small voice.

"…Cregan… please…"

Cregan almost finished then.

Her voice was so soft. So sweet. Hoarse from its lack of use and so breathy. 

It was beautiful.

But guilt overshadowed all of that. He shouldn't have pushed her to the point of speaking. 

His hand trailed up her body to the bed, preparing himself again. "I won't deny you any longer. I'll give you what you want, sweet girl."

…

She began to speak to him after that. 

The times were few and far between, but nonetheless, he never took a single word for granted. 

Because she only spoke to him. 

 She never spoke her mind in full, so Cregan took it upon himself to do it for her. 

In meetings, she'd pull at his sleeve, prompting him to instinctually bend his head down towards her to properly hear her soft voice amongst the others. That was how she contributed to meetings: to tell her thoughts to the only one there she trusted. Over time, the men in the meetings caught on, and would pause to hear what the Lady had to say. It was a game of telephone, barely hearing a peep from the woman as she spoke to Cregan, and he voiced it aloud in his own manner. 

When they walked through the busy streets of the city, he kept his hand wrapped around hers, promising to give his attention to her when she squeezed it tightly.

Outside of their chambers, their form of communication was touch, often tapping one another gently. 

Inside, however, soft exchanges were common. She would only speak calculated thoughts, not one to ramble, but she would talk of her day, her newest book, or questions of things she always wondered about the man. 

In turn, he'd respond in the same manner, quieting himself naturally to match her tone as the two gazed into the flames of the fire that warmed the room.

"I wish you'd dance more."

Her head snapped up to him with furrowed brows.

"You're a beautiful dancer. I only wish I could see it more." He leaned against the back of the sofa. "Who taught you?"

"My mother," she spoke softly. "She was wonderful."

He smiled when he noticed the reminiscent look in her eyes at the thought of her mother. He pushed a strand of her hair from her face. "Tell me about her."

She leaned into his touch. "Father mocked me when I wouldn't speak. Said it was shameful. But mother always told me that feelings are expressed by actions rather than words."

"How so?" He absentmindedly asked.

"Men often say that they love their wives, but their actions are rather the opposite."

He hummed as he considered it. "Have I ever made you feel that way?"

"No."

It was the quickest response he'd heard from her. It only fueled his need to know as much as he could. To know her fully.

"Have you always been so quiet?"

As if a switch had been flipped, everything about her quieted.

Her breathing. Her voice. Her expressions. Her thoughts.

Silent. 

Whatever had happened had to have been traumatic to instill such a reaction from her.

"Forgive me. That was too forward, even for me to ask-"

"-I don't wish to talk about it today."

He felt relieved that his question hadn't dissolved her trust in him completely. 

"Well," he pulled her to him. "When you are ready to speak, I shall listen."

…

The next day, Cregan meticulously planned. And his efforts had paid off. 

She walked into the meeting room at the same time she did every week, to see it lacking its usual members. 

The table was pushed off to the side, and Cregan stood in its place as he donned a bright smile at the sight of her. 

Against the back wall, a few musicians stood with their instruments. 

Confusion spread through her and a wave of anxiety as well, prompting her to only stare at him blankly.

He was quick to correct it, stepping forward towards her. "I've excused the council today. I… I wanted to see you dance again."

Once her mind warmed up to the idea, a bright smile came across her face, accepting the hand that he extended to her. 

"I must admit, my love," Cregan said as he stepped in time with the music. "I am not a gentle man. But I am trying. For you."

She nodded, not daring to speak her overwhelming thoughts at the moment. 

…

After, they sat at the large dining table, the emptiness of it mattering not to the two lovers who sat together at one end.

"My uncle," she stated, breaking the silence.

His head tilted up to meet her gaze, "Hmm?"

Her cheeks turned a slight pink, "You asked how I became so quiet." 

Recognition flowed over his face, "Ah. Yes, I did." He sipped his wine and leaned towards her. "Your uncle, then?"

She nodded. 

"He was unkind to you?"

She picked at the skin of her fingers, seemingly reliving the moments in her mind. 

A battle within herself.

He put a hand on her thigh, "I will not force you to tell me things you do not wish to."

"I do," she insisted. "But I know not how to."

"Begin to speak, and I shall piece it all together."

She took a deep breath. "My uncle hit me when I spoke out of turn. At first, at least. Then… it was whenever I spoke at all."

He felt ice go down his veins and a feeling like a rock going down his throat. 

But being such a skittish thing, he knew not to react too harshly.

"When I told my father, he…" her eyes became glassy. "He said he was right for it. That… that a girl was made to only… shut her mouth and open her legs."

He couldn't keep it in anymore. "And you believed them?"

"When I spoke to you for the first time, I feared you'd be the same."

"I bask in the sound of your voice, my girl. I hope that you see that."

A warm tear ran down her cheek as she looked up at him.

"Oh, sweet woman," he cooed as he cupped her cheek. "Do not cry over false words."

When more tears began to fall, he quickly pushed her chair out from the table and pulled her into his lap.

She tucked her face into his neck, melting against him as if she wished to disappear. 

He held her close, not caring when his tunic became damp. When he did speak, it was soft and assuring whispers.

Once she caught her breath, she pulled away from him. "Forgive me."

"I don't believe I will."

Her eyes widened, and he realized his mistake in word choice. 

"Sweet girl, you've nothing to apologize for. That's all I meant."

She relaxed at that. She reached up and wiped her cheeks with a sniffle. "Actions have always spoke more than words."

He reached up and brushed a stray tear from her cheek. "Have they?" He asked softly.

She felt a smile come to her lips at his touch. "You are different. You could speak or act, and still, I'd only hear a brilliant melody to which I can always trust."

He never felt such love radiate as it did then.

.......................................

Taglist: @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia

[bluerthanvelvet444]

ᯓ★⋆˚🅰🅿🆁🅸🅲🅸🆃🆈⋆｡˚ ⁀➷

(Peter Maximoff x fem!reader)

tags: smut with plot and a bit of fluff in the end.

warnings: subby!Peter, restraints, handjob, fingering, riding, p in v, denied orgasm, praise, mentions of abuse, mentions of alcohol, mentions of fight, swearing.

summary: Peter gets captured by the villains. This fic takes place after x-men apocalypse and before x-men dark phoenix.

character count: 19k.

full fic under the cut ↓

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Memoir. What’s its provenance? What is it?

According to scientists, memories are “formed as a result of connections between neurons in the brain”. The poet Sylvia Plath, instead, “sardonically embraced the most horrific and vulgar fragments from the storehouse of collective memory”. The great philosopher Aristotle believed that “memory is like a writing that remains etched in wax, and whose inscriptions remain more or less durable”.

Although you continually researched and seeked in books for the perfect depiction, you weren’t able to find anything that could comply with your personal belief. You were staunch that memories are, in fact, the mirror of our being. Disgraceful memories, glorious ones…they’re both needed to construct the way we act, the way we think, and the way we are. You had always been involved in memoir personally, because of your quirk. You had the marvelous capacity of intruding into one’s memories. You couldn’t directly change or interact with them, instead, you could see, reproduce, assimilate and mimic them. Phenomenal, isn’t it? You may think it is but, your biggest gift to you was, in fact, your biggest ruin. Your life started its downgrade the exact moment you found out about it. You remembered it all.

You were standing small in front of your mother, who had either fallen asleep or passed out. The bottle of cheap tequila in her hands made both answers valid. You were just a kid but you knew it wasn’t easy. Your father had left when you were just a fetus in your mother’s womb. Since then, she had never been the same. All the bills, the rent, expenses were on her. Her job exhausted her and the little time she had left, she spent drowning her worries in alcohol. She didn’t need any more problems, so you never told her about that awkward energy growing inside of you. That particular day you felt it bigger than ever, the need to find out what it led to even stronger. So you put your tiny fingers on her temples, as the little voice in your head told you to, and you started seeing. All of your mother's life was flashing in front of your eyes quickly. You stopped at one particular memory, you inspected it. Your mother stood pregnant in front of a man that kept yelling at her. You put the pieces of the puzzles together. It was clear, and the new knowledge of the situation triggered something inside of you, inside of your power. You kept replaying and replaying the scene, tears in your eyes, as the man’s words dissolved from the memory and came directly out of your mouth. That woke your mother up, she was holding her head as the same image kept banging in her mind, and as the man’s voice spit those known words harshly from your little mouth. She yelled for you to stop, and you lowkey wish you never did. As soon as you stopped, she grabbed you and threw you inside of-what you playfully called-the dark room, your basement.

“I-I’m sorry…I can’t-you’re him…I-I see him-” Her words came out broken from her mouth, her sobs stopping her mid-sentence as she locked you inside.

That became a habit since then. You grew up in the “dark room”, hardly ever going outside if not to eat and respond to natural calls. Your main activity was watching TV and day-dreaming about the outside world. You knew it was better than what you were living, it had to be. Especially because you found out that you weren’t crazy or evil but that you simply belonged to a different species. They called them mutants.And apparently, there was a school for kids just like you, the interviews of the famous Charles Xavier were the ones you liked watching the most on TV. As the years went by, your urge to run away grew more and more, and so you did. One day in the early 70s, you grabbed all of your things and left, taking advantage of your mom’s blackout. You took different taxis and avoided the questions about your young age, and you were finally standing in front of Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters. Although, it seemed different from what you saw on TV: it looked abandoned, the plate with the name on it rusty and absentmindedly resting on the ground, and the gates closed. You tried peeking inside, before being startled by an unfamiliar voice behind you.

“Don’t waste your time. They can’t help you anymore, but we can.”

This is how you found yourself with a group of mutants who had the exact same hopes you had, before they were broken by the closure of the school. You were guided by The Captain-that is how he wanted to be called-that was trying to create a new safe place for young mutants. And his plan seemed to work, kid mutants were actually starting to come…before Xavier’s school opened again. At this point, your group desperately found itself in front of the school’s gate again. You were dismissed,though, by a blue beast mutant.

“We’re sorry, the school only accepts young kids between 5 and 17-” He told you before turning his back.

“You can try and talk to Charles though, I’m sure he will find some space for y-'' He stopped seeing you had all left.

This is why The Captain’s plan was ever created in the first place. He believed that Charles Xavier was a man only drawn by his personal needs, and that he only used the young mutants to gain popularity and be idolized by the US government.

“This is why we were rejected. Our powers aren’t conventionally pleasing. No human kid would ever desire our powers. So if he believes our gifts can’t be used for good, we won’t use them for good.” He spoke firmly to you all.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Your flow of memories was interrupted by The Captain.

“We’ve captured one. You will watch him while we take care of the others. Do your thing on him and find out his weakness.” He spoke with a deep voice.

You nodded and began making your way downstairs before he gripped your wrist.

“Don’t disappoint me, Y/N.” You felt his piercing gaze in your eyes.

“I won’t.” You gulped and quickly left the room.

When you opened the door you scanned your surroundings. The room was all white, with petty furniture. No windows, a table, a chair, a small closet, and a bed which had a figure laying down on it. You inched closer and scanned the boy. His eyes closed, he was probably knocked out, a few bruises on his skin, his hands and legs restrained by the strong collars around them… he looked your age, his hair was silver with some goggles resting on them. He had a pleasant face to look at, if the circumstances had been different you could’ve even admitted that he was pretty attractive. He was wearing a black protective suit, probably X-men’s equipment, you guessed. The more you observed him, the more you were confused. You expected them to capture the great Mystique, the glorious Magneto…not a newbie. You sighed and started walking towards the desk, ramaging in your bag for a sleeping pill so that you could do your magic without being interrupted.

Peter slowly opened his eyes, he could feel his body sore from the previous fight. He started to panic as he didn’t recognize his surroundings. He tilted his head forwards, noticing the person standing in front of the desk.

“H-hey…! Ppsttttt…Lady! Yes! You! Lady!” You heard his desperate calls.

You walked towards him and stopped at the side of the bed.

“Hi! So there’s a bunch of bad people who captured me and probably want to beat my ass-” You stopped him mid-sentence.

“I know.” You replied with a monotone voice.

“You-you know?! Don’t tell me you’re one of ‘em- oh shit! You’re one of ‘em! C’mon you have to be kiddin’ me…you’re too pretty to be mean! Hey! C’mon help me!” He rushed, his hands and legs squirming at high speeds against the restraints. You didn’t budge at his compliment, instead, you were focused on his movements.

“A speedster, huh.” You mumbled.

“A speed…A speedster?! Babe I'm not a speedster- I’m the speedster! Quicksilver! Peter Maximoff! The one and only!” He replied cockily, almost as if he was offended by your lack of knowledge. You raised your eyebrow, clearly having no clue of who he was.

“Aah babe you’ve got to be kiddin’ me! I’m Quicksilver! The one who beated Apocalypse’s ass! I did it all myself heh- I’m basically a hero, everyone loves me. Don’t ya watch TV or what?” Even though you had no idea who this guy was and what he did to be part of the X-men, you could sense the exaggeration in his words.

“I prefer books.” You shrugged before turning your back and making your way to the desk again.

“Hey! Hey! Where ya goin’?! Are ya a mutant too? Hey, yer not gonna hurt me aren’t ya?! What’s your power? C’mon tell me…What’s your power? Whaddaya do?!”

You rolled your eyes as his continuous questions started to annoy you.

“Will you shut up and let me do what I need to do?!” You snapped while holding between your thumb and index the sleeping pill. His pupils dilated.

“Whoa-whoa…let’s chill down a bit, yea? No need to use that, babe. Ya just gotta ask and I'll do whatever you want me to do.” He said with a smirk forming on his face. You sighed.

“Close your eyes and stay still.” You began pressing your fingers against his temples.

“...Will it hurt?” He said with a nervous smile, big brown eyes looking up at you.

“It doesn’t have to.”

Just like that you were thrown into Peter’s memories. You saw his child self, his mom, his sister…his first time using his powers…Magneto…many memories about Magneto, weird. You decided to dig a little deeper. You replayed the memory where he found out that…

“Magneto is your father?!” You exclaimed, visibly surprised.

“Hehe, I guess…so that’s your power?” He said with a tiny chuckle.

You kept thinking about what you just saw. You never saw a direct contact between Peter and Magneto, so you supposed he didn’t know about his son. That could’ve easily been used against him, you had to tell The Captain. You walked towards the table and gathered your bag.

“That’s a cool power…I’ve never heard ‘bout it. Actually, I’ve never heard ‘bout ya either…do ya have a supervillain name? Why didn’t ya fight with the others?” The words fell rapidly out of his lips. You gulped.

“Just Y/N. I don’t fight with the others. My powers weren’t made for physical combat.” That’s true, they hardly ever let you come with them on missions. You were useless for superheroes as much as you were for supervillains.

“Pffffttt…that’s bullshit! Ya can do those cool things with yer mind! Ya totally have to meet Charles, he’s gott-”

“Charles? Charles’s a selfish man who puts his needs first. I don’t want anything from him.” You scoffed.

“Wha-what? Are ya out of yer mind? Have ya ever even met Charles? He’s the coolest. I was literally a loser who lived in his mom’s basement before meeting him. Always been cool though.” His words made your blood boil, hearing that he didn’t hesitate to help him but discarded you immediately. You told Peter your story, how you truly believed Charles was gonna save you but ended up breaking your inner child’s heart. Your eyes started to water as memories flooded in front of your eyes.

“Hey-I-I’m sorry that happened to ya but- hey- if I get outta here alive, I promise I will take you to the school. The professor will help ya, he always does.” You looked at him, a tiny glimmer of hope appearing in your eyes even though you knew that you couldn’t leave.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

You spent all your day talking to him. He was funny, you had to admit. The nicest company you had ever had. He told you about his family, how he joined the X-men, everything. And before you knew it, the night came.

“Oh uhm. You should get some sleep, you’re probably exhausted.” You said while getting up, ready to leave.

“Wait- uhhh…I can’t really sleep with this armor thingy on. It’s uncomfy.” He complained.

“Oh. Right, I can bring you some clothes. But I…can’t untie you. It’s the rules.” You shrugged.

“No need to. I usually sleep naked.” He winked at you.

“...” You contorted your face, not really knowing how to respond.

“HA! Gotcha. Just kidding. I sleep in my boxers.” He said with a proud grin on his lips.

“...I’ll bring you clothes.” You said before being interrupted again.

“No! Seriously, I just need to take my clothes off.”

You raised your eyebrow.

“...Not because I’m a creep. Simply because my speed speeds my body’s functions, and by speeding it highs my temperature so I get hot.” He spoke as if it was obvious.

“...Right.” You sighed and sat on the edge of the bed.

“How does this thing open?”

“W-whoa whoa…you-are you gonn- wait-” He stuttered as his cheeks slightly reddened.

“You said you wanted your clothes off, and I’m not gonna risk getting scolded by The Captain by freeing you.” You sighed. He gulped and pointed where his zipper was.

C’mon Peter…ya can do this, buddy. Ya just need to focus, yea? Don’t let a fine chick undressing ya speed yer speedy hormones, mh? Peter thought to himself. Your hands gripped the zipper and started pulling it down. Stay focused soldier. His broad chest was revealed as you slowly undressed him. You stopped at his abs to hop on the bed and take his shoes off. As you leaned to pull his boots, your arm slightly brushed his crotch. Holy fucking mother of all the fucking mutants, fuck. She barely touched ya and yer already growing hard, Peter? Must be tha speedy genes, yea, has to be. Totally not has nothing to do with ya being a virgin in your 20s. Nuh-uh. Goddamn you, Peter!

You threw his shoes on the floor, and started pulling his suit down again. You let your gaze linger as he was half-naked in front of you. He was wearing boxers with lightning bolts on them, a tiny chuckle escaped your mouth at that.

“Someone’s excited.” You said with a playful grin on your lips as you pointed at the prominent bulge in his boxers.

“Hey! Not my fault ya got all handsy- how did ya expect me to react?” He said with a tiny blush on his cheeks, he was so cute.

“...And it’s the speedster genes, by tha way. They call me Quickie for a reason.” He replied, annoyed because of how embarrassed he got.

“Do you need help?” You suggested. It may have been wrong, since you were “enemies” and you barely knew each other but…when are you gonna have another cute speedster all for you again?

“DoIneedawhat-” He blurted out, not believing what he just heard.

Your lips curled up in a smirk, and before he could process anything, your fingers grazed his crotch through his underwear.

“Oh- fuck- yea…yes-” He moaned, you giggled.

“So eager, mh?” You teased him by pulling his waistband up and then leaving it smack against his skin. He groaned and nodded, he was so worked up by nothing. You undressed him of his boxers too, his shaft springing free against his stomach, leaving him naked on the bed. His hips bucked up in search of friction. You grinned and gently took his dick in your hand, slowly pumping it.

“Aaah…f-f-yes…please…faster…” He whined.

You giggled and leaned in to kiss his lips gently, muffling his pleas. You started speeding your movements, and he deepened the kiss as his moans rolled off his tongue. As you made out, you could hear the sound of his hands desperately squirming against the restraints.

“Please…let me touch you…” He whimpered, big puppy eyes gazing up at you.

“Mh…sorry, can’t do, baby. It’s the rules.” You smirked and leaned in to peck his lips again. You stopped and sat up to pull off your shirt. He groaned at the sight. You took him in your hands again and fasted your pace even more.

“O-oh..f-fuck...gonna…gonna cum babe…c-cant hold it in…ahh..” You giggled and sped up even more, your mouth working hungrily against his, eating up his moans. He came with a loud groan, muffled by your lips. He kept whining after that.

“Pleasepleaseplease…wanna please ya too…lemme…I’m good at it- I promise…I’m basically a human vibrator-long lasting rose toy- please…” You giggled and nodded, pecking his lips. You took off your pants, before untying one of his hands. He groaned and immediately pulled you closer, his hand making its way under your panties. He suppressed a moan by biting his lip as he felt your slick with his fingers. He gently started circling your clit, and after he heard a few moans of confirmation from you, he began buzzing his fingers against it.

“Ooh…f-fuck…just like that, baby, don’t stop…” You moaned, he answered with a cute whine. He looked up at you, his middle finger gently pushing at your entrance, not fully sliding in. You nodded and bit your lip to suppress any more unholy sound coming out of you as his fingers started to fuck you slowly.

“F-fuck…” You threw your head back. He was gazing up at you with parted lips, as if he had never seen something so breathtaking. He kept picking up the pace, until you stopped his wrist and tied it up again.

“Wha-Wait-Why..? Y-you didn’t like it?” He said with his silver brows furrowed, he was lost and scared of what your answer could’ve been.

“Oh, it was fucking awesome, baby. But I wanna use something else to come, yea? Will you let me do that?” You said in a cooing voice, clearly driving his mind crazy.

“Mhm…yesplease…” He nodded, his gaze not daring to leave your body.

You undid your bra, his eyes widening, and straddled his hips. Your entrance just above his cock. He groaned at the sight, his shaft fully hardening again. You smiled and slowly sinked in, until your hips met his.

“Aaah…w-warm…so warm n’tight…mppph…” He moaned loudly.

You grinned and started slowly sliding your hips up and down repeatedly, reaching a stable pace. You moaned as you started speeding up, yet it wasn’t enough to satisfy you fully.

“Mhh…baby…mind helping me a little?” You said looking down at him.

He moaned and nodded. He started superspeeding his hips to meet yours as you bounced on his cock. The new sensation making you moan loudly.

“Ohhh! Fuck! Just like that, baby…such a good boy…” You groaned as you felt yourself closer. He let out a tiny whimper as he heard your praise and kept speeding up, his wrists and legs straining against the collars, forming tiny red lines.

“Fuckfuckfuck…can i cum? P-please-ah…?” He whined.

“Mhhh...not yet- baby…let me finish first…” You smirked.

He groaned and sped up even more, trying desperately to bring you to the edge. He hissed as he felt that knot in his stomach urging to snap. It didn’t take much for you to come undone. You cried out as you were still jumping up and down at lightning speed. As soon as he felt you clenching around him, he moaned loudly, as he was just about to cum. You quickly pulled him out of you and allowed him to spatter his fluid on your body. He panted heavily, droplets of sweat sinking from his forehead to the mattress. You waited a few moments before grabbing a towel and cleaning you both. You laid down on the bed with him, moving his head on your chest as you ran your fingers in his silver locks, whispering sweet nothings in his ear.

“You're my apricity.” You said while caressing his hair and pecking his temple. His eyes were closed, and he was clearly drifting off to sleep.

“Mh?” He mumbled, not moving one single part of his body, still restrained.

“Apricity. I read that in a book.” You chuckled.

“In simpler words?” He mumbled.

“The warmth of the sun in winter.”

“In even simpler words?” He muttered, his voice coming muffled by your chest.

“My life is the winter, you are the warmth.” You admitted. He didn't answer to that. You weren't sure if he actually understood the concept or even just your words, but one thing you were a hundred percent sure of.

He fell asleep smiling.

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taglist: @cxndiedvi0lets @angeldollw @marchsfreakshow @newwavesylviaplath @happy74827 @evpeters87

a/n: raaaahh!!! I'm honestly so proud of this, the fic came out just like i imagined. Anyways, hope you like it, love you all🤍🤍

join my taglist!!

all rights reserved.

[ramp-it-up]

Doctor and Mr. Cavill

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Veterinarian!Reader

Word Count: 5.9K 😓.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. RPF. SMUT, Explicit description of graphic sex. Read at your own risk. Dog in distress. Angst, pining, flirting, nerd activities, Marvel vs. DC, brat behavior, dirty talk, size kink, oral sex, raw p in v (wrap before you tap) pulling out, cum play. Not Beta’d. All errors my own.

A/N: This is in response to an ask from @notmyfault404 about Kal’s favorite Veterinarian, nerd activities and Henry. This story sucked me in. Let me know if you liked it!

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

The film production came to town at the end of summer, buying the now defunct airport for a production studio and moving scores of staff into town. The uptick in your business was the first indication that your life was going to change. 

The production meant two years of publicity and economic prosperity for your town. It was exciting. And the fact that Henry Cavill was the lead in the production was no small news item. 

Sightings at the grocery store, on the running trails, at GNC were all everyone could talk about, but you didn’t have time for all that. You had a business to run.

You got busier, with production increasing the population of the town by over 200 people. Including the talent, Everyone was buzzing with the fact that Henry rented a house out on State Route 60, not too far from your own. 

You weren’t that pressed. Sure, he was fine as hell, but he was probably a jackass and you would probably never run into him.

You were so wrong.

One blustery late fall day, an American Akita was brought into your office by a bystander who found him caught in a bush along a greenway, dirty and covered with brambles.

He was muddy, overexposed and shaky. He was agitated and growling at everyone, until you came near. You gave him a firm command.

“Sit!”

He obeyed immediately and whined, still stressed, but calmer now. You approached him and kneeled, holding out your hand and taking his paw when he offered. You smiled, and he panted in return.

“It’s okay, buddy. Let me help you.”

20 minutes later, you had him on the table in one of your examination rooms

“Now keep still. I know it’s uncomfortable right now, but I’ve got to get you unmatted and then I’ll get you some nice soothing salve for those scratches.”

The dog whined, but stopped fidgeting and stood still, as if he understood what you’d said. 

“Good boy!”

The huge animal panted at you and looked as if he smiled, but then whined again as you started detangling and brushing again. 

Regina, your nurse, came in and microchipped him, and then turned to you with her mouth wide open when she saw what came back. 

“You’ll never believe who this dog’s owner is…”

After you found out about Kal’s parentage, you fed and watered him, cleaned and groomed him, attended to his coat and his scratches and were playing with him when Henry arrived at your office.

“Did you run away Kal? Is he a good dad?” 

You leaned over to him conspiratorially.

“I bet he’s not.”

You tutted as you worked on the last bit of matting, soothing hums falling from your lips as you applied the ointment to the lesions on his skin.

“I would take you to my house in a minute, he doesn't deserve you, does he?” 

You were concentrating on medicating his leg when you heard a response.

“You’re quite right.”

You looked up at Kal when you heard a deep British voice rumble through you. You slowly turned around and were met with the most beautiful imperfect blue eyes you’d ever seen.

“I don’t deserve him.”

You drew yourself up to your full height, which didn’t stop Henry Cavill from towering over you. Damn. 

He seemed huge, tall and burly, hair hidden under a baseball cap, but escaping out of the back into thick curls at his nape. His face was flushed, and his eyes held a look of worry and embarrassment, but held your gaze.

You felt like you were in one of those old romcoms, where the room was spinning around you. You had the urge to dive into his eyes.

“Mr. Cavill? I’m Dr. Y/LN.” 

Henry’s smile widened and he extended his hand. You looked at it as if it were a fish. You were flustered. He was even more beautiful in person.

You reached for his hand and then stopped, awkwardly.

“Gloves,” came your reply as you held up your hands.

Henry dropped his own hand, as awkwardly as you. Your stomach tumbled.

“I’m Henry. Cavill.”

“Yes,” was all you could say. You knew who he was.

“Mr. Cavill. Kal is fine, but he was exposed to the elements for quite a while.”

Henry had a stricken look on his face.

“Believe me, Dr. Y/LN. I have been distressed with worry for about 14 hours now. Kal and I went running yesterday evening and he saw and chased a squirrel. He wouldn’t respond and I couldn’t find him. I feared the worst all night…”

Henry paused, trying to compose himself. You saw his emotion and you heard his voice crack and you softened, all over. You should really stop staring. 

“That is unfortunate, but luckily someone found him and brought him in…” 

You found yourself suddenly at a loss for words. 

“Yes.” 

Henry smiled, a genuine, shy smile. 

“And it seems you are taking expert care of him.”

Kal whined and you tore your eyes away from his owner.

“Hey buddy. Yeah. I’m almost done, just gotta get this paw...”

You smiled at Kal and turned to Kal to continue your work, smiling at Henry over your shoulder.

Henry watched you with his dog and his heart melted. You were gentle, kind, and caring. And that voice. Your sultry tones were soothing, not just to Kal. You were calming Henry’s nerves.

Henry didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t you. 

Somehow he was expecting a veterinarian to be someone not quite so lovely. His heart was already racing, but when he saw you he swore that it skipped a beat. 

Henry was transfixed with you, his eyes searching for a glimpse of your body beneath your white coat. He ascertained generous curves and found himself quite pleased. 

As you turned around and caught him staring, he remembered Kal.   

“Mr. Cavill!”

Henry startled and turned red as a bashful smile graced his handsome face.

“Y-yes?”

He seemed flustered and awkward, but he was also a highly trained actor. You resisted any benevolent thoughts as you handed him a couple of tubes of salve and reminded him of the routines to make sure that Kal healed properly.

“Thank you Dr. Y/LN. Thank you for taking care of Kal …”

“No need for thanks. It’s what we do here.”

“Well…Excellent!”

Henry graced you with that beautiful smile and you wanted to melt, but you stayed strong.

You two stared at one another until Kal whined. You released him from the grooming lead and Henry prompted him to jump down from the table. 

You watched, your heart warming to the sight of Henry practically rolling on the floor with his pup. You could watch the scene forever, but you had work to do.

“Mr. Cavill.”

“Yes.”

Those bewitching blues looked up at you. You held in a gasp as Henry sat on one knee at your feet with Kal. It was quite unnerving for some reason. You cleared your throat.

“I have another patient I need to see in this room.”

Henry was deep in thought after you kicked him out of your office. He couldn’t get you out of his head. He walked slowly to his car with Kal, almost turning around and back into your office when his phone buzzed. It was his agent.

Thoughts of you were pushed aside as he answered the phone.

Two weeks later, you entered your exam room looking down at the patient chart with no other warning than a smirking Regina who handed the clipboard to you.

You were greeted by a big handsome brute.

And his dog.

“Kal!”

You were assaulted by licks and jumps when you got near him.

“Down, boy, sorry, Doc. Kal! That’s no way to behave.”

Henry took Kal’s collar in hand to get him off of you, but he was ignored while you laughed and hugged the dog. Soon, he obeyed Henry and sat down on the table, smiling at you and thumping his huge tail.

Speaking of huge, you noticed Henry’s hands. They were large, with thick fingers and pronounced veins which extended down his thick forearms. His muscles were flexing from the effort to restrain Kal, but Henry’s face was serene. 

And staring directly at you.

You cleared your throat.

“What are we here for this time?”

Your saucy raised eyebrow did things to Henry, he decided. He’d been thinking about you ever since that first time and he was intrigued by you.

“Our visit today is two-fold. Kal needs his yearly shots. We’re in the states for the next few months filming and you took such good care of him last time… well, I’d like you to be his veterinarian while we’re here.”

You grinned at Henry, and he paused, blinking at you as if in shock. He wanted to make you smile forever. You cocked your head at him. 

“And two?”

“What?”

Henry was outright flustered. You chuckled.

“What’s the second reason that you’re here?”

“Yes! Right! I want to thank you for taking care of Kal. How about I take you to lunch as a way to express my gratitude?”

You frowned and Henry’s stomach dropped as you appeared to have eaten something sour. He knew he shouldn’t have tried it.

“I’m trying to think of a reason not to…” 

You looked up at him with those big doe eyes and Henry turned to mush. Then he recovered and smiled, giving his best rake performance.

“Well, if you’re thinking anything about Dr/Patient ethics, I’m not your patient. Kal is.” 

Henry hadn’t had to pursue like this in quite a while. It was refreshing.

You finally smiled as you prepared to counter his argument.

“But in a veterinary practice, an animal’s owner is a client.”

“Dr. Y/LN, it’s just lunch. Nothing more.”

“Really?”

“Really. It’s just a thank you. No funny business.” 

Henry held his hands up so as to indicate he wouldn’t touch you. Why were you disappointed?

You avoided Henry’s eyes as you opened the door and called for Regina to set up the shots. Henry took the chance to subtly check you out again, making sure to have his eyes elsewhere when you turned back around.

“When did you want to go out to lunch, Mr. Cavill?”

Henry shook his head and chuckled.

“Henry. Call me Henry. Dr. Y/LN.”

He waited for you to offer your first name to him, although he could read it on the diploma on the wall. When you just smiled, he just shook his head again.

“I was thinking today.”

“I– I – ummmmm…”

“Your nurse, Regina is it? Regina told me you hadn’t eaten yet.”

Henry raised his eyebrow and looked at his watch. You couldn't help but notice the veins in his arm.

“It is 1:28 pm and you haven’t had anything to eat today except coffee.” He looked at you as if you were in trouble, but that would have been too familiar. Henry was quite displeased that you weren’t caring for yourself, but he didn’t dare say it. He hardly knew you. This wild urge to take care of you was unexpected.

“Regina cleared your afternoon.”

“Did she now?”

You went to the door and called for her. Regina appeared as if she were close by, with the shots prepared on a tray.

“Here are Kal’s shots, Doc. And I’ve rescheduled your appointments for your lunch date.”

You scowled at her and she smiled brightly as she pushed you back into the room by the tray. You would take care of her later.

You turned around and went to wash your hands and put on your gloves. You sighed and decided to go with the flow.

“How about Dave and Buster’s?”

Henry looked nonplussed.

“Do Buster and David serve good healthful food?”

“No,” you grinned.

An hour and a half later, after dropping Kal at Henry’s place and a lunch of ribs, wings, and nachos, you and Henry were having the time of your life playing giant electronic Connect Four. When you beat him the third time, he pulled you away and started browsing the games. 

The darkness of the arcade, and the fact that it was 3 pm on a Tuesday, made it easy for Henry to not be recognized. His ball cap was quite the disguise.

“Rampage!” Henry yelled like a kid. “No wayyyy! I used to love this. One of Midway’s best games.”

You gaped at him.

“Oh Come on. I’m a massive nerd. I love stuff like this. We have to play!”

You just laughed.

“A man after my own heart! I’ll play you, but we have to scope out the other games. You have to have a plan for your game play.”

Henry stopped when you said he was after your heart. He knew it was a figure of speech, but he decided it was not an untruth. He cleared his throat.

“Right. Seems you’re a bit of a nerd yourself, Dr. Y/LN.”

You grinned.

“You should see my comic book collection.”

Henry’s heart surged, that was so fucking sexy. You out of your doctor’s coat was also damned attractive, and he was about to say so when he saw his face on an arcade game. 

You two stood in front of Injustice, a game that had many of the DC Superheroes and Villains illustrated on it. You and Henry stared at each other.

“I dare you.”

Henry never backed down from a dare.

“Challenge accepted, Doctor.”

It was on.

—

It was basically dinner time when Henry dropped you back at the office, but you weren’t mad. You shivered at the cold and pulled your jacket around yourself. Henry wanted to pull you into his arms for warmth, but this wasn’t that kind of date.

You smiled that smile at him.

“That was a great lunch, but you lied.”

Henry looked so cute with the frown on his face.

“That was funny business. I haven't laughed like that in a long time. I had a ball.”

Henry was relieved and followed you as you turned and went to your car.

“I’m very glad. You ate something and had some fun. Splendid.”

You were trapped between Henry and your car as he beamed down at you. This feeling could not be denied, you realized with dismay. But you were going to try with all your might. Henry was only temporary. He was probably just searching for comfort near set. You needed to guard your heart.

“Well, have a good evening, Henry.”

You reached for your door handle. Henry backed up to let you open it.

You got into the driver’s seat.

“Perhaps we can do this again sometime, Doctor.”

You just smiled at him and said, “Good night, Mr. Cavill.”

Then you closed your door, started the car, and pulling away, Henry realized that he didn’t get your number as he’d planned.

“Call me Henry!” 

He shouted at your taillights.

This was getting inconvenient.

A week after your lunch, you’d taken to having nightly dreams of Henry, and it just wouldn’t do. You woke up in the middle of the night with your clit pounding and you’d worn out the batteries of your wand, knowing it would be a poor substitute for the man from Jersey.

You had to get Henry Cavill out of your head. Work. That was the answer.

You walked past Regina’s desk around 11:30 and didn’t realize she wore that smirk until you turned the doorknob to the examination room.

“Shit!” 

You cursed under your breath as you opened the door to Kal’s bark.

Henry stopped mid-pace when you did so. His eyes looked a little wild, just like the first time you’d met, but there was a difference now.

The difference was that Henry was distracted by need, not worry. He’d thought about you every waking moment, and woke up with a stiff reminder of his dreams every morning. He needed more of you, or to be in detox.

“Mr. Cavill.” 

Henry's jaw clenched at your continued insistence at the formality. Your core clenched in turn. You were in danger. You moved to pet Kal, seeking him to be your protector.

“Dr. Y/LN.”

Henry’s deep voice was gravelly and you tried not to gravitate nearer to him.

“We’re here today because it is a bit of an emergency. I’m headed to Britain for a couple of weeks this weekend, and I need boarding for Kal. Beginning Friday? Regina said that you had facilities?”

You really needed to talk to your meddling nurse. But you looked down at Kal who started to lick your face. You could not say no. You went over to your computer.

“I’ll check the boarding schedule. I’m sure we have room…” 

You opened your laptop and pulled up the schedule. Then you frowned, your eyes flicked over to Henry, then back at the screen.

You looked so adorable as you bit your lip. Then you huffed, seemingly miffed at what you saw.

What Henry saw was a little bit of the brat. And that made his cock a little stiff so that he had to shift his stance. That’s it, he decided. He needed to tame you.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Cavill. It seems we are booked up this weekend, but we will have an opening on the following Monday…”

“Please, call me Henry.” 

He was begging now. 

You took him in as your nipples got hard. His beauty was no question, his eyes, his hair. It was left out today, the curls unruly as he swiped his hand through them, thinking.

“Well, I… I’ll have to find another arrangement. My flight is commercial and leaves early Saturday morning, else I would take him with.”

Henry looked at you with sad eyes and so did Kal. 

“Could you recommend?”

Yours was the best facility within 50 miles. You sighed and couldn’t believe what you were about to say. 

“I can keep him at my home Mr… Henry. Just for the weekend. I have lots of land off of Route 60.” 

Henry’s eyebrow raised when you mentioned where you lived. He lived on Route 60. You continued.

“Kal will have lots of room. And I’ll bring him with me to work on Monday…”

Henry moved into your space impetuously. You stood your ground, however.

“Splendid!” 

You stared up at him, unconsciously biting your lip. The energy between you intensified. It seemed natural to go on tiptoe and reach up to brush the hair that fell into his eyes.

But you didn’t.

“Well, Kal is such a handsome boy, how could I say no to him?”

You looked into Kal’s eyes and petted him. The loving way you looked at his dog made Henry a little bit jealous. He surprised himself.

“Can I have…”

Henry’s voice was now impossibly a bit deeper, and needy. You sighed, and Henry wanted to claim those lips. He thought that outrageous, but this attraction between you was undeniable. 

“...Your number and address. I can bring him to your place Friday evening. My flight leaves at 5 am to New York Saturday for my long business layover. Then the red eye that evening to London. I wouldn’t want to wake you up in the middle of the night…”

Henry was thinking just the opposite as he smiled down at you. He’d love to wake you up. And you were thinking the same thing.

Your first instinct was to tell him that he could bring Kal by the office and you would take him home with you, boundaries. But you were exhausted of running from this feeling. Henry gazed at you hopefully and it was your turn to be flustered.

You held out your hand, palm up.

Henry, non-plussed, took your hand awkwardly and grinned, thrilled at the chance to touch you. You laughed, a melody to his ears, as you shook your head and said,

“Give me your phone, Henry”

Henry blushed at your gentle command, released your hand, and pulled out his phone while shaking his head at himself. His grin was the greatest thing ever, and the curls falling forward into his face were a distraction.

He handed his phone to you and you took it, concentrating as you entered your information, feeling his eyes on you. When you gave it back, he looked at your number and address like it was a newfound treasure.

“Thank you. I can’t tell you what this means to me… to us. Isn’t that right, Kal.”

You both looked over to Kal, who barked. 

“What time should I bring him by?”

You looked up and thought. You were so damn cute to Henry.

“Well, we close early on Fridays. 2 pm. You could bring him by 3?”

Henry thought for a moment. 

“Perfect.”

He was looking at your lips.

“We’ll see you then. Doctor.”

The title was beginning to feel like an endearment. You didn’t wipe the smile off your face for the rest of the day, despite Regina’s side eyes.

——

You don’t know why you were nervous. It was a simple thing really. Just Superman dropping off his dog at your house. No biggie.

You heard Henry’s car on your gravel driveway and went out on your porch

Henry marveled at your place. He got out of the car looking around appreciatively as he got Kal and his gear out of the SUV. You led him to the fence line behind the house. 

“You can take him off the leash. Back here he has room to run free.”

Henry did so and Kal immediately took off and galavanted around your animals there. He was cozying up to one of your rescued alpacas as you and Henry watched.

“This place is… there are no words.”

You flushed.

“It’s my childhood home. My dad was the town vet before me, and I think he loved animals more than I do. I grew up thinking he was Dr. Doolittle.”

You became wistful with memories. Then you looked at Henry, bowling him over. His heart was taken in that moment.

“I wanted to be just like him, even when he told me to get out of this town. But I would never leave. He was my hero, a single dad, saving animals. He was my why.”

“Wow. Thank you for sharing.”

You’d never heard Henry’s voice that low. You gave him a small smile.

“He passed away two years ago while I was still in vet school. It was hard.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Henry wanted to take you into his arms.

“Thank you.” 

You straightened your spine.

“I’m sure you’re very busy, with the trip and all..”

Henry smiled at you.

“Would you believe that I’m practically ready to go? Fully packed and all.I’m going to grab an early dinner and head to bed.”

You looked at your watch. It was 3:45.

“Can I make you some tea?”

Henry gave you that beautiful grin.

“I’d like nothing more.”

In your kitchen, Henry soon got up from his seat at your kitchen island to help you make proper British tea.

You were laughing and talking as he teased you for being American. It all felt so natural.

“Where are your teaspoons? See, this is what I mean….”

Henry was standing behind you, not looking for spoons at all, but looking at that ass in your casual at-home leggings. Good god you were hot. You shook your head and turned around quickly to find him facing you.

“They’re right- oh!”

You were deliciously in Henry’s space and as you looked up at him something happened and he leaned down to kiss you. It was a quick press of the lips but it previewed so much more.

“I- I’m sorry. That was way too forward-“

Henry was cut off by you jumping up into his arms and wrapping your legs around him as you kissed him back. His surprise turned to passion as he grunted in his throat as he claimed your mouth. 

He turned you around and sat your bottom on the island, slotting his hips between your legs, his hands on your sides. The kiss was a feral expression of pent up need that was only interrupted by the whistle of the kettle.

You stopped and laughed, and Henry pulled away to take care of the pot. When he turned back around, you were down from the island and all business again. The mood was lost.

You served the tea as if nothing had happened. 

The silence between you two as you drank was big, but thoughtful, not awkward at all. Henry was smirking down into his cup, replaying the kiss in his mind. It was more than he could ever ask for. You, however, were thinking quite the opposite.

You turned to him after you finished your tea and asked, “Want to see my comic book collection?”

10 minutes later, you were upstairs in the comic book room, amid boxes and boxes of classic comic books, the collection started by your father. There were books in every conceivable surface, so you were setting in a bean bag chair while Henry kneeled and flipped through a box of Wolverine comics. 

“Holy hell! You have the Wolverine Top Secret #50! Do you know how much this is worth?!?”

Henry was impressed, and so were you.

“Not really. But I’m intrigued that you are so into a Marvel book, i would think you would be strictly a DC alcolyte, Man of Steel—“

You gasped. 

“Holy shit! I have Superman in my comic book room.”

Henry raised his eyebrow.

“Do you want Superman in your…. nevermind...”

You gaped at him, mouth hinged open at his saucy comment, and Henry was scared that you would kick him out. But you started rolling on the floor laughing instead.

“You’re such a dork, oh my god. ‘Do you want Superman in your…’ hahahaha… that’s what she said… hahahaha…”

Henry laughed too, coming over to tickle you to extend your laughter. It was musical. You two horse played until you weren’t playing any more. You lay beneath Henry, flushed and out of breath and never more beautiful, your shirt halfway up your torso and comic books strewn around you.

He had to kiss you again.

Soon, his mouth strayed from yours to your neck, sloppily marking you up and getting you wet as he rutted against your center. His jeans and your leggings were the only barrier to you full out fucking.

His hand reached under your shirt and you pushed him away, panting as you tried to get your bearings.

Henry was wild, hair in his eyes as he nodded. 

“You’re right. Too far. Too much.”

He leaned back on his knees and your eyes raked from his thick thighs to the bulge in his pants to his dilated eyes.

You stood up, still silent and so did Henry, following you out as you straightened your clothes and your hair. You were wrapped in the last string of decorum in you.

Henry ran his hand in his own hair, looking to the side and catching sight of your bedroom. Then he watched your bottom sway in front of him.

“Just want to bite that ass.”

You heard his lewd comment and wheeled around on him on the landing of the stairs.

“What are you doing? What do you want? A fuck buddy while you’re here? Because…”

“Do shut up, Doctor..”

Henry took your head in his hands and leaned in for a kiss, pausing momentarily to look into your eyes. Then Henry destroyed that string of decorum with his kiss.

Somehow, you wound up on your bed, heavy petting like two teenagers, Henry’s hand up your shirt, teasing your nipples.

When he reached for your pants and slipped his thick fingers into your panties and felt your slick, he cursed.

“Fuck, I don’t have any condoms.”

When you arched and moaned when he breached you, and he felt your tight cunt, he licked his lips.

“No matter, won’t be necessary, just let me eat you out. Take all that off.”

You obeyed, buoyed on a cloud of lust.

“Beautiful.”

Henry gazed at you for a minute, and then you reached for his zipper. He let you pull him toward you and start to work it open.

“Ah ah ah. I'm far too hard for that. Let me.” 

Henry carefully removed his pants around his massive, hard cock, which made his dark blue boxer briefs even darker at his wet tip. You licked your lips and palmed him over his underwear while looking up at him with those eyes. He knew what you were asking.

“Hmmmmm. I’m going to have to say …no.” 

You pouted as Henry chuckled and flipped you over, pulling your hips up so you were on your knees before him. You watched over your shoulder as Henry leaned down to kiss, and then in fact bite, each of your cheeks, rubbing to soothe the sting.

“Oh. If I had more time…”

Henry shook his head and then descended to the valley between, licking a large, rude stripe up the length of you.

“Yes. My dreams, Doctor. This is better than my dreams. Taste like heaven.” 

Then he went to town, feasting on you and moaning, rubbing his nose and chin into your folds, sucking your clit, and causing you to grab his head as you came all over his beautiful face.

When you opened your eyes you were on your back, Henry above you, one hand parting your lips again, and another wrapped around the biggest uncut cock you’d ever seen. You gasped when he inserted a finger into you, not realizing how big his hand really was. It made sense now.

“So gorgeous. But, it seems I’m far too big for you. I fear I’d tear you apart.”

You arched, which elicited a moan. 

“It’s amazing what a body can do. Why don’t we try, and you could always pull out…”

Henry grunted, climbing up between your legs, led by his dick.

“I’ve decided that’s not a good idea. I’ll just use my hand to finish.”

His smirk said he was teasing, but you were mad. Your pussy clenched, seeking fulfillment, as Henry jacked his cock above it, angry red tip projected now and leaking precum on his fingers.

You whined and writhed beneath him.

“Henry... you can’t do that to me…”

Henry nodded his head, eyes ablaze.

“Yes. It would hurt you too much.”

He was stroking faster now, jaw clenching with restraint.

“No. You can’t show me that magnificent cock and not give it to me.”

Henry groaned and leaned down to kiss you, continuing stroking with his hand. His tip was at your entrance, driving you mad.

“Give it to me…Henry…”

“Such a brat.”

Henry bit your ear and you arched your back as he shoved the tip in. Just the tip.

“Henry!”

“I’m giving you what you want, Doctor…”

His voice was controlled in your ear, but you felt his cock jumping inside you.

“God you feel so….. I need to go travel this silken canal.  But you’re so, so tight…”

You rotated and locked your ankles on his back, making him stop and rest his forehead on yours. You both looked down to where you were connected.

“Stretch me out.”

Your plaintive whisper caused his reserve to snap. 

“Unnnngh. I’m not strong enough to tame you tonight. I want this.” 

Henry started moving, gliding slowly inside you, fucking you open like you’d never been before.

“Hunh, Hunh, Hunh, Hunh…”

You moaned with every inch, the pain a delicious nirvana. You bit Henry’s shoulder until he was fully seated inside.

Henry looked you in your eyes and then closed his and shook his head, as if trying to snap out of a trance.

“You are exquisite, you know that?”

He’s never seen a more beautiful sight than your face when you were full of him. When you shook your head no to his question, Henry started moving.

“We’ll, I'm going to teach you…”

Your fingernails dug into his forearms as he delivered the long strokes which served to short circuit your brain. Sparks were shooting off inside you with every pull and drag of his thick cock along your walls.

When you started moaning with pleasure was when Henry reared up on his knees, pulling your bottom up to rest on his thighs. He held your waist as he pumped inside you, not able to tear his eyes away from his cock destroying you. 

The image of a naked Henry just outright fucking you, along with the heavenly way he was delivering the dick made you start cuming. Him just looking at your clit made it start pulsing. Did he really have x-ray vision?

Henry’s mouth hung open at the way your pussy started creaming around him and when he glanced up at your face, well, it was all over for him.

“Cum with me!” he commanded.

When you screamed is when Henry pulled out, pumping his creamy cum all over your torso. The velocity of his spend, the way it sprayed all over your body and reached your open mouth, extended your orgasm and you howled, literally howled.

You licked your lips, tasting him and hummed as your body vibrated down from the clouds. You felt Henry lay down beside you and start drawing his cum around your areola. Your clit jerked your entire body and Henry raised his eyebrow.

“I’m sorry that was so…”

“Amazing, perfect?”

“…Rushed, but next time, I promise you an entire night of delights.”

You shivered at the promise and bit your lip.

“It’s time to get cleaned up.” 

Henry was admiring his handiwork all over your body. You felt his cock thicken against your thigh. You couldn’t believe it.

“You need the shower?”

“Later. Now. I’m going to tidy you up a bit.”

And Henry’s lips claimed your breast, along with the rest of your body marked by him.

—-

At midnight, after some more fun in bed and the shower and takeout and more fun and another shower, you grabbed Henry’s sweatshirt and pulled it over your head. The sight of you engulfed in it, and knowing you were naked beneath made Henry want to cancel his flight. 

“Can I borrow this?”

Henry chuckled, “Borrow. Right.” Henry grabbed your neck and brought you in for a forehead kiss.

“Let’s trade. A sweatshirt for…”

He held up your still wet panties pulled out of his pocket. You gasped.

“No deal!”

Henry held it above your head as you tried in vain to jump and retrieve your underwear. You knocked him off balance into the couch and somehow wound up straddling his crotch.

Henry grabbed your ass as he felt the heat radiating off you.

“I can’t get enough, and now I have to leave…” 

His petulant pout was everything. So you kissed it.

“I’ve reconsidered, your sweatshirt smells like you. When I wake up wet from dreams of you, I want to be enveloped in your scent.”

You were trying very hard to be still, but you felt the bulge in Henry’s jeans get bigger. He brought your panties to his nose.

“My thoughts exactly.”

You started moving on Henry’s lap, your warm wetness seeping through the stiff material to his stiff dick.

“Give me one more thing before you leave.”

Henry’s eyes were dilated, lust blown and beautiful.

“Anything.”

“Your cum down my throat.”

“Christ, Doctor…”

———

Next part: The Gentleman Returns

[legendarydragonperson]

9. Big Idea

Made me feel: like An angry modern hippie

Did I think about any ships with this song: Lowkey any ships that have done anything to do with politics and wanting to do the best in.

Like Sam and Bucky from the Marvel Franchise

Moodboard:

This is not a bad song. I actually really enjoy this song. Going against the status quo and being true to ourselves by standing up for ourselves on what we believe is right. Not just our first-person environment but the world even though it's so big it's something we still are a part of.

I saw the best parts of my generation (I got a big idea) Dismantled the system only to replace it Huddled 'round burnin' while looking for love

Maya Hake is near cusp of gen z and millennial. I have a sister whose a year older and doesn't really now which side she identifies more with and I feel like Maya feels similar.

Wanting to be part of the 'new' but at the same time being blamed for past ideals. Though I know many millennials hate or love gen z, Maya maybe in the neutral area.

Now the reason why I put this at number 9 is because Maya does not practice what she preaches.

She has stood with political issues in the past.

In 2019 when she played Robin on Stranger Things talking about Queerness in media. (I know it's much of a big deal now but in 2019 it was still a little taboo, especially on such a big show where she doesn't die or get harassed for it)

Back in 2022 when the government over turned roe v wade Maye was very vocal about it saying this on The Tonight Show. And covering the story with William H. Macy which was very cool of her.

But what hasn't she talked about? Oh yeah, Palestine.

She's on Stranger Things which is run by the Duffers. Ross Duffer is Pro-Isreal and so is Noah Schnapp. She can't not be in Stranger Things she probs already signed a contract last year. But said to Ms.Khelani there is no rule of law saying "If there was ever a genocide you can't speak about it." Maya had no problem being able to stand up for women's rights when people needed someone with power to shine a light.

Well, Women and girls in Palestine have no resources at all, no menstrual products, no health resources, and no aid because their limbs are being cut, or bombed. Abtomanl issues no doubt to them slowly dying by hunger.

You know How I know she's free to say anything about it.

Amybeth McNulty and Joseph Quinn have been the only ones to say anything.

Amy as been posting allyship, and info links and Joseph participated in an auction for the Medical Aid for Palestinians.

So yeah it pisses me off. I love her, I really do but come on Maya.

back to the rankings

[snowbellewells]

Finished Story!! : “One More”  {part five}

This birthday fic for @searchingwardrobes took me way too long to complete, but here it is at last. The final chapter, and hopefully the happy ending to make up for the sad along the way.  Melanie, I hope this makes you smile, and I hope anyone else reading this enjoys as well.

From the beginning, here on Tumblr, or on AO3...

Summary: Through the years, Emma keeps waiting - one more placement, one more year, one more separation - until she can find where and with whom she truly belongs. It turns out the person to show her has been right beside her all the time...

by: @snowbellewells 

v. 24 years old (two years later)

“One more night,” Emma murmured against his lips breathily, shaking with desire, but forcing herself to pull away, if only slightly. “Can you believe it?” The words were whispered, but as she ran the tip of her tongue across her lip, her eyes fairly cried out her joy and relief. “This time tomorrow, Killian… we’ll be married.”

Gazing down at her open face, green eyes drinking him in as if it were still that moment two years past when they had been reunited after tragedy, Killian felt the very same sense of awe. It had seemed their chance was lost forever not so very long ago. He could not fathom how he merited having Emma return to him, their being together once more, but he would never take even a moment for granted.

They were standing outside Emma’s room at the cozy little B&B which had hosted their rehearsal dinner, and where they and many of their friends and loved ones were staying before the wedding tomorrow evening. Out by the water, just a few hours before, their rehearsal had gone flawlessly - without a single hitch - everyone present just marveling at the second chance they had been given and counting anything else that came along as a bonus. The Owl’s Head Light made a stunning background against the sand and breaking waves, and Emma could still feel an echo of the overwhelming notion that soon Killian truly would be hers forever, and she would be his.

Henry had stood so proud and tall at Killian’s side, raptly attentive and determined to be the best ringbearer any of those gathered had ever seen. Much of the past two years had been spent with Emma and Killian getting to know one another again certainly, but also in Henry and Killian becoming acquainted with each other. There had been a very short period of uncertainty while Killian had feared that Henry might think he was stealing his mother’s affection, or that the boy just might not like him, but as soon as Killian had expressed a genuine interest in Henry’s favorite story and asked if the boy would share it with him, they had been as thick as thieves, granting all of Emma’s fervent prayers.

Watching Henry stand so tall and straight with his little pillow that tomorrow would hold their rings, had given Emma such a rush of motherly pride. He might be only five, but he was so serious and still in his khakis and suspenders, like a miniature of the man who had chosen to be his father. Both of her men, the two people in this world who had showed her what love was, waited for her at the end of of the aisle marked in the sand by a border of driftwood, shells, and luminary candles, made her want to sprint to its end by their sides, even as she forced herself to rehearse what she hoped was a stately walk.

It hadn’t been so very long ago that she had believed herself cursed, sentenced to always be left behind and alone. Her birth and abandonment, followed by her growing up shuffled from one place to another that never became home, and even Henry’s father leaving her without a backward glance, all had reinforced that belief. But the loss of Killian - that devastation had cemented the awful illusion, had nearly closed her heart for good. If she hadn’t had Henry, Emma knew it would have. How they had gotten here, to where she now felt somehow blessed instead, still felt unreal. 

Leaning back against the door to her room for the night in the little seaside inn, Emma felt her heart thrill as Killian’s body instinctively followed her, leaning in to press against her front. She was more than grateful for the solid support as her knees wobbled like jelly. The warmth of his smile, first making her blush to the roots of her hair, and then causing butterflies to take flight in her stomach as he burrowed his face into the crook of her neck, was as effective as it had ever been; all it took to charm her completely  and make her love him all the more.

She hummed contentedly, low in her throat, bringing both arms up to circle his neck and twine her fingers into his thick, dark hair, not wanting to be parted from him even for a moment, much less the whole night. “Hmm,” she smirked up at him with the arch of a brow and lazy, knowing curl of her lips, “sure you don’t want to come in with me, Jones?” she purred, equal parts tempting and hopeful.

His forehead fell to rest against hers, a strangled groan reverberating from deep in his chest which she could feel where she had begun to toy with the buttons of his shirt and then clutch at his lapels in her own need. “You’re killing me, Emma Love,” he managed to grit out through tightly clenched teeth. She could see the muscle working in his jaw, which only set her pulse to pounding faster as she held her breath - the temptation she was offering too much for her as well. 

Still, her handsome sailor - best friend, fiancé, love of her life - exhibited the same patience and determination he had always shown when it came to her; whether it was chipping away at the hard shell of attitude and snark she had built around herself at fourteen, in order to get to know her as few ever had, or the traditional wisdom that the bride and groom-to-be not share the same bed the night before the wedding or see each other at all on the big day until she came down the aisle to meet him. She didn’t know how he managed such resolve, but somehow Killian sucked in a steadying breath, mastered his own desire with impressive restraint and took a step back, putting enough space between them to cause a small whine of desperation to escape Emma’s throat involuntarily.

“Nope,” he pronounced with certainty, popping the consonant with added emphasis just to torment her, knowing it made her want her lips back on his all the more. “You’ll not change my mind now, irresistible siren though you may be. I think we’ve pushed our luck and tempted the Fates more than enough already, just to be standing here together, like we always should have been.”

His blue eyes changed from deep and dark with lust to a warm, melting blue in his sincerity. He returned to her to brush his nose lightly along her cheek before nuzzling hers. “I’ll do nothing to risk it again, silly superstition or not… not when tomorrow we’ll finally be joined forever.”

Emma swallowed hard, blinking back the quick sting of tears as emotion welled up in her at his words. She easily nodded her acquiescence - how could she do otherwise in the face of such fervent devotion?

Murmuring in her ear, just before he truly did pull himself away to head for his own room down the hall, he purred, “That doesn’t mean you don’t call to me, haven’t already gotten in my blood. I could happily drown myself in you just as one would be caught in an enchantment by the most powerful siren. This time tomorrow, I shall drink my fill of you, and never stop.”

Emma gasped at his words; his implication clear and her hands grasping for him once more. He had, however, wisely escaped her reach, knowing they both had reached their limit of endurance. 

There was nothing she could do but retire to her own room and attempt to sleep. Wired and anxious as she was, Emma couldn’t imagine true rest would come, but even in her frustration, she loved how Killian guarded their future with all that was in him. This second chance they had been granted by finding one another again was precious, and she could abide by his wishes and honor tradition for one more night. What he had promised her so long ago would now finally be true; they had the rest of their lives together stretching out before them.

Entering the room, Emma unzipped and shimmied out of the simple sheath dress she’d worn for the rehearsal dinner and let down her hairdo from the updo into which it had been twisted, and pulled on her pajamas, roomy shorts and an older shirt of Killian’s. She smiled affectionately at her little boy, already sprawled across the bed and sleeping soundly after she and Killian had carried him up and tucked him in when he conked out some hours before. Emma crawled in under the blankets with him and curled up around Henry carefully. She was filled ot the brim with love for her sweet little man, so happy and proud to play his part in their big day and to stand up at Killian’s side. He already loved Killian as though he had always been his dad. And he always would be now. She didn’t want to wake Henry though; he’d struggled as hard as he could to seem mature and stay up as late as all the adults around him who were chating and catching up. He was growing so fast, and as full of joy as she was, she did feel the tiniest pang, cuddling her child close as he slept. It had been just the two of them since Henry entered her life, and it wouldn’t be anymore.

More than anything though her heart thrilled pleasantly as she settled in for the night. Tomorrow, she would walk down the sandy beach toward Killian on Liam’s arm, before he handed her off and took his place with Henry at his brother’s side. She would look into Killian’s eyes, wide and blue and hypnotic and vast as the ocean behind him, say her vows before their friends and mean it with every fiber of her being. They would kiss and be announced husband and wife, and they would be family - irrevocably, unbreakably, and forever.

Tomorrow night when they at last reached their bedroom and entered it together, she wouldn’t have to spend one more night trying to sleep without him by her side. She would never have to wake up alone again.

Tagging a few who might enjoy:  @jennjenn615​ @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @xsajx @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @donteattheappleshook @the-darkdragonfly @elizabeethan @cosette141 @anmylica @sotangledupinit @xarandomdreamx @justanother-unluckysoul @motherkatereloyshipper @stahlop @lfh1226-linda​ @gingerpolyglot​ @gingerchangeling​ @thislassishooked​ @wefoundloveunderthelight​ @scientificapricot​ @tomeandflickcorner​ @winterbaby89​ 

[yhwhrulz]

Worthy Brief - May 1, 2024

react with boldness!

Psalms 2:1-3 Why do the heathen rage, and the people imagine a vain thing? The kings of the earth set themselves, and the rulers take counsel together, against the LORD, and against his anointed [in Hebrew it is the word Meshiach], saying, Let us break their bands asunder, and cast away their cords from us.

Acts 4:25-28 Who by the mouth of thy servant David hast said, Why did the heathen rage, and the people imagine vain things? The kings of the earth stood up, and the rulers were gathered together against the Lord, and against his Christ. For of a truth against thy holy child Jesus, whom thou hast anointed, both Herod, and Pontius Pilate, with the Gentiles, and the people of Israel, were gathered together, For to do whatsoever thy hand and thy counsel determined before to be done.

When Peter and John had gone up to the Temple for prayer [Acts 3], they saw a man who was lame from birth, and were moved to heal him in the name of Yeshua (Jesus). Immediately the religious leaders laid hands on them [Acts 4:3] and kept them imprisoned for a day. The following day, with boldness, they declared this miracle was done in the name of Yeshua. I love what the "religious" leaders said next --- "they perceived that they were unlearned men and they marveled at their boldness!" Why were they bold? They had been with Yeshua, and the leaders took note of that!

It is no surprise that the world rages against the Messiah. Psalm 2 declares it clearly. Every year there are tens of thousands of believers suffering and dying for their faith, in large part because the kings and the rulers of the earth RAGE against the Lord and His Anointed. As followers of the King, we should expect this and be prepared for it when it comes.

But, the examples of Peter and John, and every other true Christian martyr are there to inspire and encourage us that if and when the time of persecution comes for us, we too can be bold as a lion. And this boldness is no merely human bravery, but an unction from the Holy Spirit Himself. So, though the kings of the earth will rage, our simple faith and Holy Spirit boldness will testify that we too have been with Yeshua!

Your family in the Lord with much agape love,

George, Baht Rivka (Jerusalem), Obadiah and Elianna (Dallas, TX) (Baltimore, Maryland)

Editor's Note: Watch a recently uploaded sermon -- Passover, Marriage & the Kingdom of God - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cHszB_iEwfE&feature=youtu.be

Editor's Note: During this war, we have been live blogging throughout the day -- sometimes minute by minute on our Telegram channel. - https://t.me/worthywatch/ Be sure to check it out!

Editor's Note: We are planning our summer Tour so if you would like us to minister at your congregation, home fellowship, or Israel focused event, be sure to let us know ASAP. You can send an email to george [ @ ] worthyministries.com for more information.

[letsgethaunted]

Did a pope and an emperor join forces to erase 300 years of history?

History of the Catholic Church: Pope Sylvester II and the Holy Roman Emperor Otto III were two powerful men and two ambitious friends. How ambitious? History of the Catholic Church: there is a theory (very controversial) that among them, marked the beginning of a new millennium... 300 years before.

Roman Emperor Otto III The Holy Roman Emperor Otto III was a man of great power and talent for self-aggrandizement. He had plenty to work with. The Holy Roman Empire was a large amalgamation of what is now Germany, much of eastern Europe, northern Italy, and eastern France, and he was put in charge of it when he was three years old. He was crowned, famously, on Christmas Day, the same day that the holy Roman Emperor Charlemagne was crowned. (More on that later.) Like another famous person whose reign was inaugurated on Christmas Day, Otto was threatened by a mad king, his uncle, who coveted his power. The young man emerged unharmed after some military maneuvers, and was returned to his mother, a Byzantine princess. She brought it up with the idea that he would civilize the barbarian kingdom she had married into. History of the Catholic Church: Otto III's main objective has been shared by many leaders throughout history: to introduce a new Rome. He financed scholars and artists and sought to expand his kingdom. He also sought to cast himself, if not as a god or the messiah, then as some kind of predestined savior. He wanted his reign to be marvelous. He was helped in this by his mentor, Gerbert de Aurillac. While Otto was born to the most powerful couple in the Western world, Gerbert came from nowhere. His parents and the circumstances of his childhood are unknown, meaning they were humble enough that no one cared to record them and Gerbert probably didn't publicize them.

The “de Aurillac” part of his name is known because, although he was very young, he traveled and entered the monastery of Aurillac. History of the Catholic Church: For much of the first and second millennia, the church was the only way for the relatively poor to rise to wealth and power, and Gerbert took full advantage of it. He traveled and studied, using Arabic numerals to do calculations in his head that, until then, people had thought impossible. He put his knowledge to work, designing an organ that harmonizes more perfectly than anything yet made. There is a legend that Gerbert performs calculations that have never been done before by turning a church floor into an abacus.

He made giant disks and recruited students to move them. He stood at the top of the church, taking in the view and ordering his assistants to move the disks while he did the calculations. Because the church was a path to worldly and spiritual power, politics at the upper levels of the clerical hierarchy were wild. Gerbert was, over the years, threatened, imprisoned, stripped of his duties and his land, and had to flee to several powerful courts for protection. The last court he fled to was that of Otto III. Gerbert had mentored Otto's father, and when he arrived, he continued his work with the 17-year-old emperor. When Pope Gregory V died, Otto appointed Gerbert Pope. From his papal name, Gerbert took the name Sylvester, making him Sylvester II. Pope Sylvester I had been an advisor to Emperor Constantine of Rome. The year was 999, and the two were prepared for a new millennium and a new empire. The point is that both men knew how to mythologize themselves, which is why Heribert Illig, a German systems analyst, believes that the two changed the date to make their rise to power even more symbolic. It is possible that the two came to power in the middle or end of the 7th century AD. C., and they simply rewrote the dates to make it look like they were on the brink of a new millennium. Illig has some interesting evidence to support this. There are allegations of widespread document fraud in several manuscripts written at the time, which appear to date to the 7th century.

Byzantine documents from this era were transcribed from one type of script to a new, more efficient script, and the originals were discarded. Perhaps they were discarded to hide gaps and inconsistencies in the historical record. The change from the Julian to the Gregorian calendar in 1582 was precipitated because all celebrations were approximately 10 days off from when they “should” be, in seasonal terms. The 10-day gap was too short for a calendar system that had been accumulating errors for 1,500 years. Ten days only represent about 1,200 years, leaving 300 years unaccounted for. And then there is Charlemagne. Tall, strong, handsome, powerful, good, and the first holy Roman emperor. He was almost a King Arthur figure, a figure who was secular enough to unite people without displacing the religious authority of the pope. Of course it had some flaws. He couldn't learn to read, although he always wanted to. If only some wise Roman emperor could take up his mantle and improve his reign, particularly if that man was crowned, like Charlemagne, on Christmas Day. It is worth noting that most historians disagree with this interpretation of events. Although the medieval period was turbulent, and most of the population did not have a good sense of date, calmly adding 300 years to the timeline would have been too difficult, even for the two most powerful and motivated men in Europe. That said, it's an incredible idea, one that two people invented three centuries, bending time to their will. And it makes our civilization quite advanced, considering we live in the 18th century. #OrbesArgentina Tags Christian Bible, the Bible, Catholic Bible, Bible, biblical studies. Christian sermons.

Read the full article

¿Se unieron un papa y un emperador para borrar 300 años de historia?

Historia de la iglesia catolica: El papa Silvestre II y el santo emperador romano Otto III eran dos hombres poderosos y dos amigos ambiciosos.  ¿Qué tan ambiciosos?.

Historia de la iglesia catolica: hay una teoría ( muy controvertida) que entre ellos, marcó el comienzo de un nuevo milenio … 300 años antes.

Emperador romano Otto III El santo emperador romano Otto III era un hombre con mucho poder y talento para el autoengrandecimiento.  Tenía bastante con qué trabajar. El Sacro Imperio Romano fue una gran amalgama de lo que hoy es Alemania, gran parte del este de Europa, el norte de Italia y el este de Francia, y fue puesto a cargo de él cuando tenía tres años.  Fue coronado, famoso, el día de Navidad, el mismo día en que fue coronado el santo emperador romano Carlomagno. (Más sobre eso más adelante.) Como otra persona famosa cuyo reinado fue inaugurado el día de Navidad, Otto fue amenazado por un rey loco, su tío, que codiciaba su poder.  El joven salió ileso después de algunas maniobras militares, y fue devuelto a su madre, una princesa bizantina.  Ella lo planteó con la idea de que él civilizaría el reino bárbaro con el que se había casado. Historia de la iglesia catolica: el objetivo principal de Otto III ha sido compartido por muchos líderes a lo largo de la historia: introducir una nueva Roma.  Financiaba estudiosos y artistas y buscó expandir su reino.  También buscó echarse a sí mismo, si no como un dios o como el mesías, luego como una especie de salvador predestinado.  Quería que su reinado fuera portentoso. Fue ayudado en esto por su mentor, Gerbert de Aurillac.  Mientras Otto nació de la pareja más poderosa del mundo occidental, Gerbert vino de la nada.  Sus padres y las circunstancias de su infancia son desconocidos, lo que significa que fueron lo suficientemente humildes como para que a nadie le importara grabarlos y Gerbert probablemente no los publicitó.  La parte de su nombre “de Aurillac” se conoce porque, aunque era muy joven, viajó y entró en el monasterio de Aurillac.  Historia de la iglesia catolica: durante gran parte del primer y segundo milenios, la iglesia era la única forma en que los relativamente pobres podían ascender a la riqueza y el poder, y Gerbert la aprovechó al máximo.  Viajó y estudió, usando números arábigos para hacer cálculos en su cabeza que, hasta entonces, la gente había pensado que era imposible.  Él puso su conocimiento a trabajar, Diseñando un órgano que armonice más perfectamente que cualquier otro hecho hasta ahora.  Hay una leyenda que hace que Gerbert realice cálculos que nunca se habían hecho antes al convertir un piso de la iglesia en un ábaco.  Hizo discos gigantes y reclutó estudiantes para moverlos.  Se paró en lo alto de la iglesia, observando la vista y ordenando a sus asistentes que movieran los discos mientras hacía los cálculos. Debido a que la iglesia era un camino hacia el poder mundano y espiritual, la política en los niveles superiores de la jerarquía clerical era salvaje.  Gerbert fue, a lo largo de los años, amenazado, encarcelado, despojado de sus deberes y de su tierra, y tuvo que huir a varios tribunales poderosos para su protección.  La última corte a la que huyó fue la de Otto III. Gerbert había tutelado al padre de Otto, y cuando llegó, continuó su trabajo con el emperador de 17 años.  Cuando el papa Gregorio V murió, Otto nombró a Gerbert Pope.  Por su nombre papal, Gerbert tomó el nombre de Sylvester, haciéndolo Sylvester II.  El papa Silvestre I había sido asesor del emperador Constantino de Roma.  El año era 999, y los dos estaban preparados para un nuevo milenio y un nuevo imperio. El punto es que ambos hombres sabían automitificarse, por lo que Heribert Illig, un analista de sistemas alemán, cree que los dos cambiaron la fecha para hacer que su ascenso al poder sea aún más simbólico.  Es posible que los dos llegaron al poder a mediados o al final del siglo VII d. C., y simplemente reescribieron las fechas para que pareciera que estuvieran al borde de un nuevo milenio. Illig tiene algunas pruebas interesantes que lo apoyan.  Hay denuncias de fraude generalizado de documentos en varios manuscritos escritos en ese momento, que parecen fecharse en el siglo VII.  Los documentos bizantinos de esta época se transcribieron de un tipo de guión a un guión nuevo y más eficiente, y los originales se desecharon.  Tal vez fueron desechados para ocultar brechas e inconsistencias en el registro histórico. El cambio del calendario juliano al gregoriano en 1582 se precipitó porque todas las celebraciones tenían aproximadamente 10 días de descanso desde el momento en que “deberían” ser, en términos estacionales.  La brecha de 10 días era demasiado corta para un sistema de calendario que había estado acumulando errores durante 1500 años.  Diez días solo representan alrededor de 1200 años, quedando 300 años sin contabilizar. Y luego está Carlomagno. Alto, fuerte, guapo, poderoso, bueno, y el primer emperador romano santo.  Era casi una figura del Rey Arturo, una figura que era lo suficientemente secular para unir a las personas sin desplazar a la autoridad religiosa del papa.  Por supuesto que tenía algunos defectos.  No pudo aprender a leer, aunque siempre quiso hacerlo.  Ojalá algún sabio emperador romano pudiera tomar su manto y mejorar su reinado, particularmente si ese hombre fue coronado, como Carlomagno, el día de Navidad. Vale la pena señalar que la mayoría de los historiadores están en desacuerdo con esta interpretación de los acontecimientos.  Aunque el período medieval fue turbulento, y la mayoría de la población no tenía un buen sentido de la fecha, agregar tranquilamente 300 años a la línea de tiempo hubiera sido demasiado difícil, incluso para los dos hombres más poderosos y motivados de Europa.  Dicho esto, es una idea increíble, que dos personas inventaron tres siglos, inclinando el tiempo a su voluntad.  Y hace que nuestra civilización sea bastante avanzada, considerando que vivimos en el siglo XVIII. #OrbesArgentina Tags biblia cristiana, la biblia, biblia catolica, biblia, estudios biblicos. sermones cristianos. Read the full article

[crumbledcastle28]

Matt Murdock: Forget

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader (she/her)

Summary: An endless cycle of reviewing is interrupted by some much needed negligence.

Warnings: SMUTTTTT, law student Matt, law student reader, probably inaccurate law school studying, p in v sex, oral (female receiving), finger licking, with a dash of dom!reader.

A/N: Something about Matt in She-Hulk really messed with my head. Here is my first marvel fic (I can’t believe that) for my fellow INFJ and love of my life. Thank you all for your patience in my lack of updates. I hope this makes up for it.

If you’d like to leave a like, comment, reblog, or ask, it would be much appreciated <3

(I completely forget where I got this gif. Please let me know if it’s yours).

Matt’s nails scratching against the scruff of his face was not helping your focus.

Neither were the rays of the city lights against his darting dark eyes.

He leaned forward on his leather couch, squeaking the fabric against his hard body, and exhaled.

“Okay,” he breathed, staring down at his case-covered coffee table. The clock behind him shined red an ungodly hour of the night as he dragged his long, slender fingers over the braille, and exhaled again.

“We know the defendant’s breach of duty, and we know the plaintiff’s sufferance of an injury.”

You “mhmed” him along as he spoke, grateful he could not see your eyes glued to his hands gliding down the page…

…or so you thought.

“We just don’t have proof that the defendant’s breach actually caused the injury defined through proximate cause.”

You swallowed with another “mhm” and started rubbing your eyes. “Right,” you said after a moment, confirming that you heard him fully.

He sighed again and rubbed at his scruff. He was really really good at that.

“Aka the most important fucking element for a negligence case.”

He stood up at that and placed his hands on his hips. His body somehow broadened even more when he did this, and the white sleeves of his dress shirt from a day of mock court and a night of play pushed further up his forearms.

What the fuck was wrong with you?

You had a final tomorrow morning—actually this morning—and all you could think about was how much you enjoyed seeing your “study buddy” angry.

You rubbed your fingertips against your temples, trying to force yourself to fucking focus, but nothing would work. You knew nothing would work, because on any other night at this hour, the only thing on your mind would be how pretty Matt would look between your legs. Your brain had built those thoughts into your head so consistently that it became a habit. That, combined with being sleep deprived and having the man of the hour standing right in front of you, you were fucked.

Beyond fucked.

And the worst part was, you didn’t even care.

You had met Matt as an L1, first day of Civil Procedure, and something about the way his hair sat, the way his voice sounded, the way he laughed at himself, and the way he moved drew you to him like a magnet.

You had yet to leave that magnetic force, even when your trusted buffer Foggy wasn’t around. After over a year of slowly knowing Matthew Murdock, you had never loved anything else more.

Not that he knew any of that, of course.

The slap of a legal pad hitting the floor broke you from your train of thought, and Matt sat down with a huff.

You took a deep breath, centering yourself. “Why don’t we take a break?”

Matt chuckled. “A break? This entire night has been a break, Y/N.”

He was right. The two of you had gone out, much later than anticipated, and procrastinated studying to the last possible second.

And if it wasn’t for the way he said your name just then, you might have agreed.

“We’ve already been at this for two hours, Matthew,” you snapped back. “We are obviously exhausted, and like you said, we know 99% of the elements on this case. We can wake up early tomorrow, figure that out, and then take the exam afterwards. It will be fresh in our minds.”

You wanted to add and delightfully avoid staring at your stupid fucking eyes for the entirety of the night instead of the task at hand, but decided against it.

“You of all people know that that’s not how it works,” Matt replied. “Sleep is the time when the brain sorts everything together, not an hour before an exam. We need to do this tonight.”

You scoffed. “Speak for yourself. I’m going home.”

That was what made him pause, and the dimples on his cheeks disípate.

“What? You’re leaving?”

“If you’re going to sit here and panic and stress me out then yes, I’m leaving. I’m exhausted, and cramming for this won’t help.”

You stood from your seat, but Matt stood with you. Meeting you at your level, just as he always had.

“We’re in this together Y/N. You’ve said that a million fucking times.”

You breathed through your nose, continuously frustrated at his pattern of remembering seemingly everything you had ever said. “I just need to forget about this for a while, Matt. That’s all.”

With that, he made his way around the coffee table, and creased his eyebrows together fiercely. He moved closer and closer to you as he spoke.

“You think I don’t wish I could forget about this too,” he spat. “Do you honestly think I don’t want to throw all this shit out the window and spend a night with you, enjoying myself for once in my fucking life, and just forget? You think I don’t want that?”

You were frozen solid. It was unlike Matthew’s personality to raise his voice, especially around you.

He breathed rapidly, trying to regain composure.

“My whole life I’ve done what’s good, what’s right. Hell, the entire reason I’m becoming a fucking lawyer is to make things right…but there’s nothing I want less than that right now. There’s nothing I want more than to forget everything in the world but you.”

Your eyes met his unfocused ones, and you took a step closer. An unprecedented confidence overtook you, like the universe was giving you a shove, and you had no fucking clue where it was coming from.

You stood closer than you had ever been to him. Close enough to feel his hot breath on your face and his usual musk of birchwood and peppermint.

“Then forget, Matthew,” you whispered. Boldly. Making up a sexy voice that you had only heard from women in movies. “Forget with me.”

Whatever you did worked, because with one last second of rapid breathing, he slid his hands around your jaw, and attacked your mouth with his own.

Nothing could have prepared you for the addiction that was the feeling of his body against yours and his tongue in your mouth.

You immediately pulled him closer to you by his collar, kissing him so harshly your teeth clashed, and he reciprocated the motion by lifting you into the air. He backed you up into the coffee table and, with his mouth still meeting yours with a fever, single-handedly swiped every document and legal pad off the wood. You gasped as you heard the papers fly through the air and smack against the ground, but at the same time, you pressed against his crotch harder.

Something about him knowing exactly where this was going knocked every rational thought from your brain.

You moved your hands to his face and hair as he laid you down delicately and crawled over you, completely covering you with his body.

Nothing could have prepared you for that feeling either.

He moved to your neck, and his loud breathing mixed with frequent moans sent chills down your body. Your breathing matched his in volume, and you slid your hands under his shirt, desperate to feel more of him. All of him.

You smiled dreamily, already feeling completely fucked out, before asking innocently, “Do you want to taste me, Matty?”

His body shuddered at your ask, and your heart leaped to your throat.

“Please Y/N,” he groaned in your ear, “please.”

Had you ever heard him use that word before?

You chuckled. “Get on with it.”

He removed your clothes so fast you didn’t even have time to wonder why a “blind” person would know how to do that so well.

You pulled his shirt and pants off as well, but when you reached for his boxers, he politely moved your hand away.

“No,” he said softly. “If you touch me anywhere close to there I’m going to drench them.”

He giggled—giggled—at your silence, likely imagining a shocked expression etched upon you, and kissed all around your face.

“What?” he questioned. “I thought sex was about honesty.”

You laughed back. “Not necessarily brutal honesty.”

“We’re lawyers,” he countered, moving down your body with his lips.

“Not yet.”

He smiled and kissed around your stomach and hip bones, breathing deeper and slower. He was slowing himself down.

“Don’t rush me Y/N,” he whispered against your skin. “I’ve waited over a year for this.”

“Trust me, I won’t.”

And then he dove in.

You were surprised your scream didn’t shatter his windows.

He mapped you out so intentionally, so thoroughly, and so unapologetically that it felt different than anything else you had ever experienced. He hit every crevice just enough to leave you wanting more before moving onto the next one, and you dug your nails into his hair to keep you tied down to earth.

“Matthew fu—fuck.”

He grinned and swirled his tongue so perfectly that the familiar rope of heat began to coil in your belly faster than you had ever had.

“I feel you. I feel you. Fuck you’re right there Y/N,” he breathed. He then moved up your body and held his fingers above your lips. You didn’t hesitate to bring them to your mouth and swirl your tongue around them, tasting a mix of his sweat and skin.

You could’ve sworn he drooled at the feeling.

You pressed a kiss to his palm before he went back to work with his fingers instead of his mouth, perfectly lathered, and when he massaged your clit just so, everything inside you imploded.

You regained feeling when Matt brushed a piece of sweaty hair from your forehead and kissed it gently.

“That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.”

You scratched your hands up his naked back and kissed his shoulder. “Just wait until you give me a second one.”

He didn’t laugh at that. “Are you sure?”

You held his face in your hands and rubbed your thumbs over his cheekbones. “I’m sure.”

With that, a smile so big it reached his eyes etched over his beautiful face, and he kissed you long and hard.

“Okay,” he said excitedly, and reached for his discarded pants on the floor. “Alright.”

He pulled out his wallet and tore through it with shaky hands. You laughed and took it from his hands, finding the condom almost immediately.

He couldn’t stop rubbing your body.

“Classy, Murdock.”

“When am I to not be prepared?”

You kissed his nose and dragged your hand down his stomach, tracing every ab, every scar.

“I wish you could see how beautiful you are.”

He hummed, tensing up at the word, and you kissed him softly.

One day you would make him believe it.

“You can take them off now,” he said softly, and you obliged. His cock sprung free, hitting his belly, and you felt your pupils grow almost instantly.

He laughed at your silence. “That bad?”

“Yeah,” you replied, opening the condom with your teeth. “That bad.”

He laughed again, and you slid the condom over his length. He hissed as you did this, arms shaking in restraint, and you pumped him only once.

He growled through his teeth, “Careful.”

You were never that. Not with him.

He lined himself up and kissed you softly, breathing into your mouth, and slid his right hand into yours with a loving squeeze before he entered you.

You knew about Matt’s religious affiliations. You knew how close he held that to his heart and kept his moral code in check, but you weren’t that way, had never been, and never planned to be.

But when he slid inside you and the curve of him entered you just right, you had never believed in God more.

The two of you gasped cohesively when you felt how well you fit together, and Matt stayed still, forcing himself not to instantly snap his hips back.

You squeezed his hand and kissed his cheek. “Let go Matt. I can take it.”

And did he ever.

He rocked into you so intensely you saw stars and every molecule of oxygen from your lungs escaped you. His rocks were hard and deep, touching places inside you you didn’t even know existed.

Matt’s breath was just as stolen, and with every thrust, he had something more to say.

God Y/N you’re perfect.

I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted this, but how worth it it’s been.

I’m going to believe in God for the rest of my life. The rest of my life. What else could have created you?

Let’s keep doing this. Fuck let’s do this forever.

A single tear dripped down your face, and he licked it away.

“I’m almost there,” he whispered into your ear, and gave your hand another squeeze. “Tell me how to get you there.”

You swallowed. “My—touch me where you touched me before. Right there yes right there.”

You clenched around him, and he sucked in a breath.

Beads of sweat dripped from his forehead down onto you as he said, “I’m…I’m there Y/N. I’m coming.”

You exhaled, drenched in euphoria. “I am too.”

And you went together, just like you always did.

There was nothing left in your body but pleasure. No aches or pains from stress, nor pounding in your head, there was only him. Only Matthew.

He pressed his forehead against you, still inside of you, and kissed down the bridge of your nose.

“I needed that,” he mumbled. “I need you.”

You smiled and rubbed your thumb against his shaking hand, still encapsulated in your own. “I need you too.”

He pecked the side of your mouth before moving his mouth down to your breasts, kissing all around them, before ending his feast on top of your heart. He pressed a longer kiss there before fully collapsing on top of you, exhaling in an entirely different way than before.

“Fuck this test,” he whispered, and you smiled. Feeling only him.

“Fuck this test.”

Tag list:

@leahkenobi

[nexility-sims]

𝐍𝐎. 𝟏𝟗: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥   /   JÁUREGUI ESTATE, AMATL, 1935

❧  𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠  /  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬  /  𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

Jáuregui Estate stood in the rolling hills of Amatl, high above a rich valley that slept beneath a blanket of snow this time of year. Rowena always found the landscapes of Uspana marvelous. Zuriñe seemed at home in all of them: the humidity of Yaas which made the hair at her temples curl; Nakawe’s sunshine in which she sweltered with elegance; and now, the temperate forests she actually considered home. Rowena could appreciate the significance of being here with her. She recognized it as among the moments of fleeting intimacy Zuriñe had allowed over the years. Once, it had struck her as ironic and even unkind to hear the queen call her ‘daughter’ and count her alongside someone like Ander (who, everyone knew, had truly earned his place). Rowena liked to think she understood the uneasy comfort of Zuriñe’s mothering better these days.

❧ ft. vivian & claudette from @thegrimalldis​ ♥️ i ... freestyled their meet-cute :^)

TRANSCRIPT:

[Z] It never snows like this in Nakawe.

[Z] This is what I am built for, but one learns to adapt. [R] It snows like this back home—in Eldwine, at the Big House.

[Z] Ah, I recall: your childhood home. How quaint that you call it that. I cannot imagine you ever planned to be so far from it.

[Z] For some of us, that is our lot in life. We are not the keepers of the place where our ancestors rest; we go elsewhere and make new homes.

[Z] It brings me such joy, still, to be here. My heart sings. [R] I can almost hear it. It’s so quiet out here. {Zuriñe chuckles.}

[R] I know you don’t visit often. Is it hard, even after all these years? [Z] Yes and no. My heart is no longer here. It lives in Nakawe these days. But, the sweetest memories dwell here still.

[R] Sweetest? As in better? [Z] I am getting too old to not long for my girlhood, Rowena. Sweet is not filling, but the idea of it tantalizes more than dreaming of roast when one is already so full. Only people who are starving disagree.

[Z] You should not think poorly of yourself if you feel that way, too. [R] I do, sometimes.

[Z] I was your age once. My children grew, and I became ravenous. [R] I don’t know if I want that. Maybe it would help.

[Z] You may be satiated for years yet. Tomás can barely walk. Now, speaking of food and hunger, I suspect dinner is ready. [R] If it’s alright, I think I’ll stand here a minute longer.

[Z] Talk to Her, if you wish.

[R]  I couldn’t be further from ravenous, in truth.

[V] You tell it better than Bruno does, Zuri. [Z] Bruno was too starstruck to remember the details.

[Z] Vivian came rolling down the hill like a damsel in distress, Bruno saved her from a villainous pine tree, and the rest is history. [R] How romantic!

[R] What is love at first sight without a little danger? [V] That is exactly what it was. My hero! Zuriñe was laughing at me, as I recall it, but I loved her soon enough, too.

[Z] Souls speak to each other sometimes. I know it when I see it. Vivian was family the moment Bruno helped her to her feet. [V] See? Zuriñe is a poet—and that is why she tells it better.

[B] Time for dessert. We can entertain Rowena with more reminiscing in the other room. I shall go rush the staff, so we can also treat her to the finest roasted coffee in all of Uspana.

[V] This one is from ... 1876 or 1877? Bruno was a precious baby.

[R] Oh, and that must be your daughter! I remember her face. [V] The Creator’s gift to us: my Claudette! [R] She’s beautiful. [V] I believe Zuriñe gifted her that piece. She adores her niece.

[B] She wanted Rowena to see your baby portrait, but it is missing. [Z] I have it. No one needs to know I was ever an infant.

[R] What a lovely bride you were! [V] The photographer was cross with us because we were so giddy. We giggled the entire time! [R] It does feel like a grand dream, doesn’t it, the wedding day?

[R] And these women? They look very grand themselves. [V] Ah, yes—the Armendáriz matriarchs.

[V] Bruno and Zuriñe’s mother is to the right. Citlalli. She wanted Zuriñe to marry Fernando, so Bruno and I inherited the estate in her stead. [R] Who inherits next if Claudette is also a queen? [V] Any of her daughters will belong to Monaca... Perhaps a cousin?

[V] Bruno and Zuriñe’s mother is to the right. Citlalli. She wanted Zuriñe to marry Fernando, so Bruno and I inherited the estate in her stead. [R] Who inherits next if Claudette is also a queen? [V] If any of her daughters will belong to Monaca... Perhaps a cousin?

[Z] She is quite the tour guide. [B] Always has been. Sentimental people tend to be.

[V] Zuriñe, I am going to show Rowena the new photographs of Nicholas. [R] Will you join us?

[B] Those you mailed her? I bet she would love to see them again.

{Quiet, indistinct radio music; Rowena humming.}

[buckydaisy]

cast parties

pairing: sebastian stan x reader

request: “I would also like to make a request for Sebastian Stan x reader. The reader and the Marvel cast are all sitting together talking and the reader is playing with Seb's hair and he falls asleep because he was up filming a scene late last night. Mackie and Evans notices and teases them” - @bbl32

word count: 1.3k

“We don’t have to go in if you don’t want to. We could go home and order some takeout.” Sebastian suggested, letting his hand inch up your thigh. You instantly shook your head. “You told your friends we would come to this party.” You reminded him.

He groaned, placing a kiss on your cheek. “I just got back from filming for three months, and I want to spend time with you. Just you.” He said, pouting.

“We have all day tomorrow to spend time together. Besides, I’ll be by your side all night.” You assured him.

Whenever he came back from filming, he became the clingiest man alive. All he wanted to do was wrap you up in his arms. His love language was definitely physical touch. You loved that about him. You loved watching your giant muscular boyfriend turn into a cuddly teddy bear.

He finally agreed to go inside, but you still almost had to drag him to the door. As you opened the door, your ears were overwhelmed by all the people that were talking to each other.

Robert had organized a party with most of the marvel cast, which by now was a lot of actors.

Sebastian’s fingers naturally interlaced with yours as he walked further into the house. You followed behind, weaving through the crowd of people.

He recognized Chris and Anthony and made a beeline for them. “Hey, there they are!” Chris said, turning to face you both. They gave you both hugs with big smiles on their faces.

As soon as you pulled away from them, Sebastian wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his head on your shoulder. “Didn’t you just get home from filming?” Anthony asked, shocked that you both showed up to the party.

He nodded his head, still clinging to you. “I landed this afternoon. I was home for maybe an hour before we drove here.” He explained.

Chris chuckled to himself. “So that explains the clinginess.” He joked, earning a laugh from you. You nodded your head, still giggling at the joke.

Chris was one of your close friends, and you may have mentioned how affectionate Sebastian gets when he comes home from filming.

“I’m going to get a drink. I’ll be right back.” You said, pressing a light kiss to Sebastian’s cheek. He nodded before returning his attention to Anthony and Chris.

You skillfully weaved back through the crowd until you got to the kitchen. “Oh my god, you’re here!” You heard someone exclaim. As you turned around to see who it was, you felt Lizzie pull you into a hug. “I can’t believe you made it. We all assumed you and Sebastian would have been at home asleep on the couch.” She said, giggling.

You felt a small smile slip onto your cheeks as you remembered Sebastian suggesting that exact idea. “I was able to convince him to come somehow. It had been too long since we had seen everybody. We might end up leaving early, he’s exhausted from his flight.” You said, as you poured your drink.

“Speak of the devil.” Lizzie said, laughing to herself. You turned around to see what she meant. You were face to face with Sebastian. “I missed you.” He whined, pulling you close and burying his head in your neck. You instantly noticed the giant smirk on Lizzie’s face as she watched him turn into a man-child.

“I was only gone for maybe five minutes. Go hang out with the guys. Besides, I haven’t gotten to gossip about you with Lizzie yet.” You joked, pushing him towards the doorway. He pouted before walking back into the living room.

Lizzie’s smirk stayed plastered on her face. “You both are my favorite couple, it’s official.” She told you. You felt a wave of pride wash over you. It always made you beam when people told you that yours and Sebastian’s relationship was adorable.

“So what’s new?” You asked her, taking a sip of your drink.

By the end of the night, there was barely anyone left at the party. The few of you that were left standing were gathered in the living room. There was Robert, Evans, Hemsworth, Lizzie, Anthony, Bettany, Zoe, Hiddleston, Sebastian, and you.

You had chosen a seat on the couch, and Sebastian was sitting in front of you on the floor.

He was only half listening to the conversation. The only thing he could think about was how he would get to cuddle with you when he got home. He had missed your touch, but his lack of sleep was starting to catch up to him.

He glanced back at you to be met by your gentle smile. He leaned over, resting his head on your thighs. Naturally, your fingers found your way to his hair.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to run your fingers through his hair. Actually, you did it all the time. So, you should’ve known that it would put him right to sleep.

You ran your fingers through the brown locks. His hair was longer than the last time you saw him last. It was still just as soft though. Your nails scratched against his scalp, relaxing him just enough.

You happened to glance down and you realized his eyes had fluttered closed. He was peacefully asleep. A smile crept onto your face as you admired him. You continued to run your fingers through his hair, while half listening to the conversation.

Hemsworth was telling some funny story about something his kid had said, but no matter how hard you tried, your sleeping boyfriend still stole your attention.

“It’s past somebody’s bed time.” Evans teased, being the first to notice. Everyone followed his gaze and saw Sebastian dead asleep. “It’s cause somebody keeps him up late.” Anthony said, sending a wink straight your way.

The joke earned a few laughs from the gang. “Oh shush, he’s just tired. He’s had a long day.” You said. You could hear his soft breaths in and out.

“How is it that he’s asleep and still as close to you as possible?” Anthony asked, not passing any opportunity to tease you and Sebastian. You brushed his hair out of his face, loving the way his hair felt between your fingers. “I think it’s adorable.” Lizzie said, watching the sweet gesture.

Sebastian stirred under your touch. “What’s going on?” He asked, realizing everyone was staring at him. Before you could dismiss it, Chris took the opportunity to tease him. “Somebody fell asleep because it’s past their bed time.” He said, in a baby voice.

Sebastian realized what was happening and rolled his eyes. “Ha ha ha,” he pretended to laugh at the joke. You giggled to yourself as you watched. “Question for you: do you always fall asleep when she runs her fingers through your hair?” Anthony asked, continuing the teasing.

You stood up, grabbing his hands. “Come on. I think we should get going, considering you’re so tired.” You said, pulling Sebastian to his feet.

“You both are adorable. Don’t listen to them.” Lizzie said giggling. You wrapped you arm around his side, guiding him towards the door. “Goodnight everybody. We’ll see you soon.” You said, leaning into Sebastian’s side.

Once you both got into the car, he pulled in for a kiss. “Hi there.” You mumbled, smiling at him. He pressed another quick kiss to your lips. “I’ve really missed you.” He said, softly.

After all the time apart, it was nice to just be able to sit together. There was no place you would rather be than in Sebastian’s arms.

“Then, let’s go home and get to bed.” You said, giving him one last kiss. He pulled out of the driveway, one hand in yours. “I love you.” He said, leaning over to kiss your cheek.

“I love you too.” You said, happy he was finally back home with you.

taglist: @laurakirsten0502 @miraclesoflove @nathaliabakes @millipop18 @azghedaheda @shyinadarkplace @vanteguccir @missroro @bookfrog242 @buckys-doll17 @ice-dtae @leyannrae @sia2raw @nyx2021 @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @shyconversationalbookworm @shadowhuntyi @lovelokiqueen @ruzannetheseahorse @superdeath @sunwardsss @studentville-struggles @impossibleapricotlampbat @infjkiki @k-k0129 @lickmymelaninn @hailey-a-s @andreasworlsboring101 @fanofalltheficsx @lukes-orange-beanie @golden-hoax @madisondelstan @spookyparadisesheep @n3ssm0nique @beyondthesefourwalls @basicfangirlx @v-is-obsessive @reniescarlett @multiplums @alotofrandomfangirling @helium-queen @bbl32 @who-the-hell-is-sebastianstan @blueeyeddemon1016 @dorothea-hwldr @lovethemfictionalboys @stressydepressyandlemonzesty

Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist for all my imagines or for a specific character/fandom!!

Requests OPEN

[serenitysought]

(Marvel verse) Has Paul met Love yet? What does he think of her, if he has?

YES! upon thor's initial return to new asgard to introduce her and ensure that everyone would get a chance to meet her and she could meet them. paul had been tending to injured and calming those terrified parents whose children were kidnapped. his empathic abilities came in very useful as did his healing powers. he's one of the main healers within the infirmary.

he truly cares for her even though he finds her temper a little easy to ignite. but lbr anyone thor cares about will always have a special place in paul's heart.

[lyranova]

Hi there! Your stories are always just full of the best warm & fuzzies!! 🥰 I’ve never requested anything from anyone before, but I love your writing and was wondering if for your Autumn event, you would please consider writing Vanessa and Finral for the “You’re My Home” prompt? I saw they weren’t on the list, but I hope it’s still okay since they do have a son in COTF. You can put him in too, if you want. Never going to say no to more Ezio (especially a little bitty one) if that’s the direction you want to take the prompt. 😊 Totally up to you though—I have no doubt whatever you come up with will be marvelous! Thanks for writing! 💖

Hiya Acacia 🥰! Of course you can ask for Finral x Vanessa (i think this is only the 2nd fic I’ve written for them 🤔). I included Ezio because I don’t get to use him much and it’s so much fun to imagine Finessa being parents with him 😭💕, and he is also itty bitty in this one because just cuteness 🥺! Thank you so much and I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 476

Warnings: None

Vanessa watched as Finral tried to teach their young son, Ezio, how to make a Spatial portal. The little boy had just begun to show signs of his magic and it appeared to be just like Finral’s, which in a way was fair considering he looked nearly identical to Vanessa.

She smiled fondly as the boy tried and tried to make a portal like his papa, but sadly he hadn’t succeeded yet. But Finral was trying his best to console the boy and encourage him to keep trying.

For a long time, Vanessa had been confused whenever someone had called another person their ‘home’. She had always assumed that a home was, well, a place. Because how could it be another person?

It wasn’t until she had started to develop feelings for Finral that she had realized what they meant.

There were many times where Finral had provided her warmth, comfort, and safety, just like a home would. He made her smile and laugh, sometimes the two would argue and disagree, but they very rarely made each other cry.

Her home wasn’t the Hideout, it was Finral.

Suddenly Vanessa was pulled out of her thoughts when she heard Ezio and Finral shout in delight, when she looked she noticed their son had made a small tiny portal in front of him, she smiled brightly as she stood up.

“ Mama, Mama! Look I did it, I did it!” Ezio shouted gleefully as he ran over to her, Vanessa quickly scooped him up into her arms and hugged him.

“ I saw it! I’m so proud of you Ezio.” Vanessa said as she squeezed him tightly, making the young child giggle.

“ I can’t believe he actually did it.” Finral said with a sheepish laugh, Ezio turned around in his mothers arms to look at his father.

“ You didn’t think I could?!”

“ W-Well, it’s not that I didn’t think you could but more like-.” Finral tried to explain but Ezio suddenly began to cry loudly as he turned to face his mother.

“ Mama, Papa’s mean! He didn’t think I could do it!” Ezio shouted as he cried into Vanessa’s shoulder, she did her best to suppress a laugh, especially when she saw Finral’s face.

“ That’s not what I meant! Vanessa, please back me up!” Finral said as he looked at the pink haired woman.

“ You’re right Ezio, your papa really is mean.” Vanessa agreed with her son, which made Finral’s eyes widen.

“ V-Vanessa?!” He shouted in disbelief as the woman began to giggle, she was just wanting to give her husband a hard time.

She quickly mouthed that she would explain everything to Ezio later after he had calmed down, Finral let out a sigh of relief. The three stayed outside together for a little longer, each one practicing their magic, having fun, and enjoying their quality family time together.

Thank you all so much for reading and I hope you all have a good day 🥰!

[go-scottishgal14]

from Taki’s magazine...

The End Game

Bruce Antonio Laue

March 09, 2021

The wedding was marvelous, the weather superb. Crowds ten deep along the mall to Windsor Castle. An American bride for the warrior-prince. The pubs rang out with cheers “To the Royal Couple”!

A breath of fresh air; the Brits are always up for a breath of fresh air. They gave us the Rolling Stones, the Beatles, and the miniskirt, for heaven’s sake. And here she was, young, beautiful, American, an actress, Catholic, divorced, and biracial. Perfect. What could possibly go wrong? Meghan Markle was about to enter a life of luxury, glamour, and deference the likes of which few people can imagine, let alone aspire to, a life she craved but did not understand. The latest fashions, the finest entertainments, the love of a besotted young man who, with a little encouragement, might mimic the career of his kinsman, Lord Louis Mountbatten of Burma. All this, and at so little cost to the bride.

In exchange for all this, the British people expected her to try to stay awake while visiting the gluten-free gumball factory as the plant manager explains how the little suckers are produced. At times a plaque must be unveiled on the side of a post office, hospital, college, railway station, or army barracks. Occasionally little school children need to be patted on the head, no problem; the Duchess likes children, or so she says. And then there are the trips, lots and lots of trips; to Fiji, Lesotho, Tonga, Tuvalu, and many more places that Her Highness has never heard of, and there will be gifts and dinners and more gifts and more little heads to be patted. And then there are men standing in straight lines all wearing the same funny suits, carrying rifles because they have sworn to defend you and your family with their lives, if need be. All you have to do is walk past them down the line and smile. When you have a child, people will cheer and artillery will sound and bells will ring and there will be happiness everywhere. That’s it, that’s all that’s expected.

“To refuse to do your duty is a selfish impulse the British cannot understand.”

And it was unsurvivable. Unsurvivable.

There were some early clues; the toothless smile at the Trooping of the Colour (it was almost a smirk). The reticence in allowing photos of her newborn son Archie to be published. The move to Canada—well, all right, grandmother’s profile is on every coin so we’re not really that far away. But then California, bumming off friends or business contacts. Then Megxit—an act so shocking that it was easily compared to the 1936 abdication crisis. To refuse to do your duty is a selfish impulse the British cannot understand. It goes against their basic concepts of personal identity; it is akin to cowardice. Your duty is something you knew was expected of you when you were born to a specific role in society or took an oath to uphold certain principles or values. To dishonor them is to dishonor yourself. It is a way of thinking Meghan Markle cannot grasp.

And then the interview, complete with background music. Oprah, to her credit, said it was “your truth,” not “the truth.” Markle’s ridiculous contention that her son would not receive security protection or that he would not be provided a princely title is for an American audience not familiar with the workings of royal etiquette. Harry could have bestowed his subsidiary title of Baron Dumbarton on his infant son immediately but refused in an act of petty narcissism rare in British society. His whining about money, as if fully expecting his countrymen to finance his lifestyle after he objected to carrying out his royal role. And he spouted a lie that he thought the public might consider—that his father and brother were “trapped” in their roles, that their duty was thrust upon them as it was on him, that some devious entity had hijacked their true life paths. What garbage. It was a disingenuous ploy to escape the contempt merited by his failure of character.

In its totality, the Duke and Duchess of Sussex engaged in an act of pure selfishness that bespoke a lack of respect for their family, their country, and the service they had pledged to perform.

One can envision the reaction of the millions of women living in tiny houses or “council housing” trying to lovingly make them into homes for their families, clipping the 99-cent coupon for the roast beast Sunday feast, their mouths agape at the sheer nerve. One can only imagine the murmured comments at the Cavalry and Guards Club or White’s or the Victory Service, as everyone stood around the television in the library sipping single malts; “Well, no more balcony time for them,” “I’ll be damned,” “I wouldn’t have believed it if you had told me.” The pubs must have been silent, pints quietly poured as the Duchess described her awful royal existence from the garden of a nameless estate in the warm sunshine of California as people in London, Cardiff, Aberdeen, and Belfast continue to die from a pandemic in the cold, damp air of a British spring.

Prince Henry Mountbatten-Windsor, Duke of Sussex, seems consigned by his wife or by choice to a life of poolside parties, discussing the finer points of child rearing with his good friends Kanye and Wendy Williams, sipping pinot grigio while passing the appetizers to Fergie (the rapper, not his aunt), discussing the plight of the Ndebele with Lily Cole, and “making shapes” on the dance floor with the rest of the Beverly Hills bric-a-brac. It makes the life of his great-great uncle, the Duke of Windsor, and his wife from Baltimore look absolutely disciplined by comparison.

In Henry V the Bard has the King proclaim outside the walls of Harfleur, “The game’s afoot!” But in Prince Harry’s case, one might be forgiven to suspect that the game has ended.

[dadsbongos]

Red Scare

Movie/Game/Show: Marvel Dynamic: Peter Parker/Reader Warnings: some au where everyone’s in the compound and happy because :), i wrote out a russian accent for pronunciation purposes (it’s then quickly wrote out but hey), “slowburn” written by someone impatient, fem pronouns Summary: Peter just really wants to hold your hand and gets embarrassed by Nat and Tony to do it. Word Count: 3.5K ~~~

Steve was the one who’d found you originally. Well, fought you - to be accurate. The super soldier was a target you’d been put on as a Widow when Natasha found you both and broke the fight up. She’d just barely managed to convince Steve to keep you around - insisting that she could help defect you from Widowing and mold you into a new Avenger. It’d worked for her, surely, it’d work for you too - she just needed time. Time that, while hesitant to do so, Steve eventually granted.

Natasha graciously took you under her wing and began teaching you about American culture and how to blend in for more than spy work.

Now, Natasha watches with furrowed brows as Wanda approaches you. She had her arms crossed tensely as you two came to a meet in the middle of the room. She watches you, her dear student, reach out, hesitating before softly taking Wanda by the shoulders and leaning in to gently kiss her left cheek, then right, then left again.

“Okay,” Natasha put up her hands, signaling the two to stop, “so, ученик, you see where you went wrong there? If Wanda’s a stranger, you wouldn’t kiss her on the cheeks, right?”

“Vanda is friend, no?” you gestured between you and the other woman.

“She is,” Natasha nodded before jabbing your forehead with her index finger, “but you need to pretend she isn’t, just for right now.”

Throwing your hands up in defeat, you huffed, “Vhat? I’m bad guy because zis is ridiculous?”

“No one’s trying to say you’re the bad guy,” Wanda gave you a smile and pat on the shoulder, “Just in need of a little more practice.”

“We should start working with accents,” Bucky pitches in for the first time since ‘American etiquette’ lessons began that day, “Her’s is a dead giveaway.”

Natasha nodded before glancing over at the clock, “I’m sure you’d love to do that one, big guy.”

“Why me?” Bucky sat up straighter - he was no good with one-on-one interactions unless they were fights, and with your upbringing in the Red Room, Bucky was certain you didn’t need any combat training.

“I’ve got a mission to get to with Wanda,” the assassin pat the man’s arm with a teasing grin, “So, unless you wanna see who else is available for that, just sit tight till we’re back.”

The two redheads were out before Bucky could even reply, a sigh leaving his lips at the new awkwardness of the situation. It wasn’t even his idea to be involved - he just got looped in because of his time with HYDRA. Which, in his opinion, was unfair - Natasha and Wanda were at least actually Eastern European, he was lumped in by association. He stood, beginning out of the common room with a nod for you to follow, muttering under his breath.

“If I may,” you interject, nearly rushing to keep up with Bucky’s hurried strides, “zat eh, Spider. Spider boy. Is only one home. Stark, maybe. But Spider, definitely”

“Parker…” the man takes a glance at you, trying to shove his disdain for the boy back, “Sure. He should be in the lab.”

It doesn’t take long to find Peter with Tony, Bucky knocking on the doorframe to catch both of their attention, “We need help teaching accents.”

“And articles,” Tony interjects, pushing a stool beside Peter’s and motioning for you to sit, “Unfortunately for you, lavalantula, it’s hard to take you seriously when you say things like ‘get in house’ like a cavewoman.”

“Mr. Stark- “

Before Peter has the chance to defend you, you’re quirking a brow at the man and putting your own two cents into his take, “In fairness, vhat idiot vould get in different house?”

“Accent and articles!” Peter claps, a forced smile bright on his lips, “Will do, Mr. Barnes, you can trust me.”

“I really don’t,” Bucky glares at the poor boy all while he leaves, “If she starts making references to your movies, I’ll personally bring you harm.”

“Opposed to what?” Peter murmured, “Impersonal harm?”

That brought a small laugh from between your lips, causing Peter to perk up once again at the positive attention. It isn’t every day he gets to make a former Russian assassin laugh, he supposes he should take it as a compliment.

He cleared his throat as Tony went about the lab, “Alright, I think that first we should start with articles.”

“Sounds pointless.”

“They kind of are, but we use them here, so…” he scratches at the back of his head, “How about we try making the ‘th’ sound first, sound good?”

“Not really.”

It was a few days with learning from Peter, but you’d felt as though so much progress was made towards the lessening of a Russian accent. Or maybe the praise that slipped from Peter’s lips just made the most minor step forward seem like a leap. The praise brought a new bubble of joy in your chest, one that was never there when Wanda, or the ever rare Natasha, complimented your work. Maybe it’s because Peter was born and raised in America that made it seem more valid - maybe it was his buzz and excitement at teaching. Maybe it was just him.

“Why don’t you try telling me about your day, to get used to speaking with what you learned so far?”

“Uh,” you fumbled, trying to translate the events in your head before speaking, “I woke up. I trained v- with Thor. Then he left for mission,” you paused, realizing your mistake and sighing.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Peter was quick to jump in when he assumed self-doubts were bubbling up, “You’ve got a lot of time to learn, don’t beat yourself up over a mistake. English is a pain in the ass to learn, you should be proud of yourself for picking it up so fast.”

“Yeah?” he could sense the hesitant disbelief in your voice.

Even so, he didn’t let up, giving a confident nod, “Yeah. Just start over whenever. You were doing really well.”

You took a moment to plan out the response in your head, running through it internally a few times before giving Peter a verbal run through, “I woke up. I trained with Thor. Then he left for a mission. I went to the lab. Now I’m here - with you.”

“See? You’re already doing so well, you should be proud. We can work on elongating sentences later down the line, but this is already pretty great!”

You take a moment, planning the pronunciation in your head before responding, “Thank you, Parker.”

“Peter,” he jumps to say, shrinking back slightly at his own eagerness, “Peter is fine, if you wanna call me that.”

“Piter,” you try the name on your tongue.

“I don’t think we’re saying it the same way,” he nods curtly, “but that’s okay! Doesn’t have to be perfect the first time.”

“I would like to try again,” you whisper his name to yourself a few times before repeating it aloud, “Peter…”

“Right! Wow, you’re so good at this already,” Peter turns to Tony, who’s doing a poor job of pretending he wasn’t listening to the pair, “Isn’t she smart, Mr. Stark?”

“Coming from you, kid? That’s a big compliment.”

“I think it’s well-deserved,” he gives you a chuckle, “I really mean it, you’re good at this and this is just a few days into working on your accent.”

“You think so?” there’s a wave of sheepishness that comes with Peter’s attention, with his wide-eyed, all-believing stares that leads you to scratch at the back of your neck, “Good. I would not enjoy to be a bother for long.”

“Not a bother, at all. I like spending time with you, even if it’s just to teach you about American accents.”

Tony closes his eyes and shakes his head, honestly not believing the words as they come out of his mouth, “You two live together, you could hang out whenever you want, kid.”

“Oh, yeah, huh?” Peter’s eyes seem to come alive again, “We should, then. Hang out, I mean. Outside of these accent lessons, unless you don’t want to.”

“No, no,” you feel a small, unfamiliar smile stretch over your own lips, “I vou- would. I would like that, very much.”

“Yep,” Tony slaps a stack of papers on the desk before beginning to make his exit, “Definitely have to work on those sentence frames, Captain Ivan.”

For the duration of Natasha’s absence, you’ve stopped coming to Bucky for lessons on Americanization. Sneaking off with Peter to the kitchen when you can.

"I used to think that melancholy was a vegetable."

"You're genius enough to catch Stark's attention, but thought melancholy was the name of vegetable?"

"Doesn't it sound like it though? Can you really tell me I'm wrong?"

"No, no, I can see it. Like celery and the uh, the one fruit. They had a baby."

"The one fruit?"

"The one, I forgot the word. Don't you have a word for дыня?"

"You do realize I have no idea what you just said, right?"

Sometimes to either of your rooms, or walking together around the perimeter of the building, or traversing through the little garden Wanda had been working hard on.

"Would you like some food? I'm ordering."

"I don't have any money, sorry."

"I did not ask if you had money, Peter. Do you want food or not?"

"But I can't pay you back and then I feel all icky on the inside part."

"Think of it as gift then, no paying back needed. Gift for being a good friend."

"Aw, you think I'm a good friend?"

"If I had to have a first friend, then I'm glad it was you. You're a good person, Peter. I'm glad we met."

"I'm really glad we met, too."

Little times set apart to spend time together that always begin as lessons.

"You ever heard of solipsism?"

"Maybe, what is it?"

"Uh, the belief that everything around you was created in your mind."

"Then yes, why, Peter?"

"Well, I just was thinking… You know, if everything around me is imaginary then you're the best thing I've ever come up with."

"Peter…"

"I'm sorry, was that too cheesy?"

"No, I just- it was really nice, actually. Thank you."

"Well, don't thank me, it's true."

Times that quickly morphed into discussions on Peter’s favorite movies or what little parts you miss of home.

"Would you ever go back? Like, to Russia?"

"Only if I had to. Too many poor memories there."

"What would be 'having to'?"

"If someone I really cared about needed me to. You or Natasha, mostly."

"You'd go back for me?"

"If you were in need of saving and I had to return to Russia to do it, yes, I'd go back."

"That's the sweetest thing I've ever heard."

"Peter, it is quite actually the bare minimum in terms of saving you."

Nobody expected it to last longer than the time that Natasha was gone - she was like a big sister to you, a safeplace when the Tower felt cold. So, when she came home and you didn’t re-glue yourself to her hip - people were quick to notice.

“I didn’t think Parker could get worse,” Sam noted under his breath, “But there he is, digging underneath the bar.”

Truly, Sam could’ve just looked away - but it was hard to do that when he was watching Peter fucking Parker, the littlest Avenger, try to win a game of footsies with you at the kitchen island. It’d be a cute sight if Sam weren’t the one having to see it.

“I’m staying out of it,” Bucky shook his head, staring down at the table as he pushed his food around his plate, “I haven’t been hungry since they got in here.”

Suddenly, Peter stands, “You’re low on coffee,” he points down at your mug before moving around the counter to the pot, “Do you want more? Just, while I’m up and here.”

“I hate that kid,” Sam shook his head, standing up and starting out of the kitchen, “I hope she rejects his ass.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Steve muttered, “In a way only an ex-Widow could manage.”

“She would’ve eaten him alive on the field, you know?” Bucky shook his head as he watched Peter contently refill your coffee and you give a rare smile only he and Natasha ever really knew, “I miss those days.”

“You try so hard to content me…” you begin, unaware of the conversation behind you, and tap your fingers on the counter’s marble, “Why?”

“You seem nice,” he shrugs, deflating when all you shoot him with in return is a skeptical look, “You do - you are. I like spending time with you.”

Before he can scold himself, you’re smiling again, patting his shoulder, “Thanks, Peter, you’re reassuring. I will be training with Nat if you need me.”

Peter expected a lot of things in his life - joint pain when he’s old, to be an Avenger with Mr. Stark, for missions to not always go perfectly, but gaining a crush on a girl who, admittedly, kind of intimidated him, wasn’t one of those things. But, also admittedly, it wasn’t entirely unwelcome, he’s noticed. He waits for Steve to make his exit before turning in his stool to face the only other man left in the room.

“Hey, Mr. Barnes?”

“Oh my- what?”

“You know Miss Romanoff, right?”

“Nat?”

“No, that’s Ms. Romanoff.”

“You mean ученик?”

“Sure, yeah, that’s what you guys call her.”

“Why are you calling her ‘Romanoff’, that’s not her last name at all.”

“No, but she’s like Ms. Romanoff's sister, or daughter, or something, so it fit. Anyway, do you know her?”

“Yes, Parker, obviously I know her.”

“Well, I think I may or may not like her like more than a friend, a lot, and I was wondering if you knew what she was into? Like date-wise… or gift-wise… or hey, even partner-wise, if she talks about that, ever.”

“She doesn’t and please don’t involve me in this. Go ask Nat.”

And so, Peter does ask Nat.

He makes up an excuse about wanting to be more agile on the field to drag her away from you before popping the question, “Do you think she likes me?”

Natasha doesn’t need clarification, she’s seen the way Peter looks at you whenever you’re around each other. It’s sweet. It’s like he’s seeing a full moon for the first time. He’s so attentive and soft towards you. Sure, the dynamic of a gentle-natured superhero from Queens and a Russian ex-Widow, current Avenger-in-training is a little strange, but she’s all for it if it means you’re happy. You’re like the little sister she so desperately wants back.

“She might,” the redhead shrugs, “Poor ученик isn’t so open with her feelings, kid. I can barely get her to open up about what she thought about dinner let alone her feelings towards the others,” when the boy’s face drops, she tilts him by the chin to meet her eyes, “That being said, I’ll talk to her. She’s a lot nicer to you than she is with the rest of the team so I wouldn’t kill that hope so fast.”

Peter barely manages to smother down a smile before nodding, giving an awkward thumbs up, and racing back down the hall, a “Thanks, Ms. Romanoff!” echoing after him.

Nat purses her lips in thought of who could be able to help her. Who was nosy enough and bothersome enough to try and set up two teenagers?

“Hey,” Tony pointed to the group of Natasha, Wanda, Bucky, and yourself on the couch, “Red Scare, in the training room.”

“Vh- Which one of us are you referring to?”

The man simply tapped the door frame with a nod, “Five minutes or I’m docking your missions.”

“He can’t do that,” Bucky shook his head, eyes narrowing as realization sat in, “Can he?”

And so, in under five minutes, the quartet found themselves in the training room with Tony.

“Underoos needs some training with fighting tactics known to HYDRA - so, who here wants to be the helpful little hero to do that?”

You look between the others, quirking a brow and shaking your head, “HYDRA is not a hub of top secret fighting techniques, it would be like pairing Peter with anybody else.”

“Sounds like you need to get familiar with other fighting styles then,” Natasha tuts, “I’ve let you off too easy just training with me.”

“I literally fight Steve and Thor all the time, there isn’t much difference just because he’s American,” you narrow your eyes at the woman, “If you both are up to something just admit it now.”

“No, no, there’s definitely a difference,” Bucky pitches in - though clearly not content with being roped into the mess of getting Parker a girlfriend, “He’s all in-your-face and forceful, you’re more like sneak-and-stab.”

“Because I am spy and he is fighter!” you shout, looking to Wanda with wide eyes, “Am I being the specific one? I feel as though I am not being the specific one.”

Wanda feels guilt run through her veins as she shrugs, actively knowing she’s aiding in tricking you, “You should give it a try. For comparison reasons.”

“You’re all making me feel crazy and I do not like it, I am at least a little certain this is a form of manipulation.”

“You’re a spy, you should be able to tell,” Bucky pats your back, “Anyway, I’m busy - you have to fight the kid.”

“Vision and I had a dinner reservation,” Wanda ducks out of the room quickly.

Tony points at you with raised brows, “You got it then, Xenia Onatopp?”

“I- “ you sigh and throw your hands up in defeat, “I suppose I do.”

A few minutes later, Peter is shoved into the training room while you stuff on a pair of gloves - eyes sliding over to the doorway to look at his jumpy form. You scoff, “They are up to something and I feel like I know what.”

“What? What - what do you mean?” Peter nervously crosses his arms and tilts his head, “Up to what?”

“Peter,” you raise a brow at him in question, “do you expect me to believe you are dumb? They are making us spend time together like this, what could that possibly mean?”

His mouth opens and closes, eyes avoiding your gaze like it’s deadly, “Who knows, honestly?”

Shaking your head, you begin removing your gloves, “Okay then, do not talk to me until you are ready to tell the truth.”

“Wait!” Peter latches onto your hand as you pass him by the doorway, “Wait, wait, wait… I- I’m sorry. I just really like you and so I asked Ms. Romanoff for help and I didn't think that she’d team up with Mr. Stark because nothing really good comes from Mr. Stark meddling in things other than tech and saving the world, but she did and they did this. I would’ve said something but you’re just really cool and I was scared you wouldn’t like me back so I tried to see if Ms. Romanoff could test the waters for me.”

“You see where that was a mistake, right?” you reach up, brushing your hand through Peter’s bangs, “I do like you, Peter. A lot. So I would appreciate you being upfront with me rather than looking through Natasha for answers.”

“Right, and I’m sorry- “

“Was honest mistake, Peter, do not worry any longer.”

“Are you sure?”

“Would not have said so if I wasn’t. I do not like your worry.”

Peter wrought his hands together, lips pursed, "Can we not pretend to train and just hang out then?"

"Are you certain you do not want me to kick your ass?"

“Well, now that you said that I feel pressure to prove that you won’t,” Peter shook his head and sighed, “I’m okay with taking a loss today.”

“You didn’t even try, didn’t even initiate.”

“So I’m the bad guy cuz I don’t wanna get my ass kicked, okay,” the boy sarcastically muttered before laying his back against the wall and sliding down to the floor, “Hey, you’re bilingual, right?” at your nod of confirmation, he continued, “What language do you think in? Russian?”

You pondered the question before shrugging, “I’m not even sure I think.”

---

“So,” Natasha looks between the two, “how was the training?”

“Awful,” Peter shakes his head, “Hated it.”

“Right… and you, ученик?”

You look over to Peter, his subtle grin and fidgety movements, before shrugging, “He’s a child,” you sigh, “Terrible.”

“Oh, is that so?” Natasha squints between the two of you.

You both nod in unison, “Definitely.”

“Anyway,” you cut in quickly, “we are off to ask Thor to let us try and lift Mjolnir. Please, don’t meddle in teenagers who have will-they-won’t-they scenarios, just let us be awkward about it.”

“What she said,” Peter grinned broadly before gently tapping his finger against your hand and withholding a small cheer when you intertwined your hand with his and led him through the halls to find Thor.

He was almost scared how much he enjoyed the feeling of your hand in his, something so small and inconsequential and yet it made his heart flutter all the same.

“This is nice,” he lifts up your hands briefly.

“I would hope so,” you tease, “I like it, though, is cute, no?”

“It is. Definitely is. I think so.”

“I do, too. We should do it more often.”

[cevans16]

You’re You

Summary: Reader is Hispanic/Latina. Sebastian Stan likes you but hasn’t said anything. It’s a little bit based on this interview in the video below;

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N3NTd3ROMmY 

Sorry it is a bit long! Love you all!!

“So (Y/N), looks like you got moved from your original promo group” the interviewer stated.

“Yes, apparently, the Chris’ and I are too chaotic” you replied

“You got that right, those three are horRIBLE” Anthony Mackie added while elbowing you softly.

You shook your head while smiling and said, “Nooo the thing is that Sebastian is too quiet so they brought me”

“I heard otherwise hahaha” added Winston Duke who was sitting on your right side. 

“What? I am not that quiet” Sebastian said pretending to sound offended.

“So some people uhmmm white people were saying that they don’t want to offend anyone when they do the Wakanda signal” the interviewer said causing the four of you to do the Wakanda motion. 

“Well (Y/N) is Latina and Sebastian is uhhh Romanian” Mackie said

“Right” confirmed Sebastian, you nodded but scrunched your eyebrows in slight confusion

“So that’s different” Mackie added, “I’ll take that” Sebastian replied. Mackie, Winston, and you bursted in laughter

“Sooo what you’re saying Mackie is that Sebastian is.....spicy white?” you asked while laughing so hard you were getting tears in your eyes. 

“Yeah remember when we went to Romania?” Mackie asked you

“Uhh huh and?”

“And every Romanian did the Wakanda thing saying you’re Anthony Mackie right” he replied

“Oh and you got hit on a lot!” he continued

“Who did?” asked the interviewer

“(Y/N)!” Mackie said, the interviewer looked at you.

“Yes, not to sound conceited but I get hit on constantly BUT when I went to Romania....it was something else” you said laughing

“What! Where was I when this happened?” Sebastian asked almost yelling

“It was when (Y/N) and I would go get you guys coffee or hangout”, Mackie said

“I always went with you guys”, Sebastian replied

“Well when YOU didn’t go, she would get hit on, well when I would walk away...sometimes” Mackie explained. Sebastian didn’t say anything else but he looked a little annoyed. 

“So the Romanians loved you” the interviewer said

“Ohhh they sure did. I’m surprised I didn’t return home with one, they were so nice to me and oh my gosh very handsome” you joked

“Well you have one here” Mackie quickly said, motioning to Sebastian. You felt yourself blush, you had always liked Sebastian as more than a friend but never felt like the feelings were reciprocated.

“Yeahhh but I am not Sebastian’s type” you jokingly teased

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sebastian asked rather sternly

“You like the blondes Sebastian” you replied. 

“Ooopp” Mackie and Winston said at the same time. They both had noticed that you and Sebastian liked each other but were too dumb to realize it. 

“I don’t only like blondes” Sebastian said

“Mhmmm you can believe your own lie” you replied

“I think I am more Evans type” you added. Mackie felt Sebastian tense next to him.

“I mean she is not wrong Sebastian” Mackie chuckled.

“Whatever” Sebastian said. 

There was a slight awkward silence until the interviewer asked about how long you had all been in the Marvel franchise, “You and Sebastian have been here the longest right?”

“Hmmmm, I think I came first and then Sebastian” you answered nonchalantly.

“At least he’s a gentleman” Mackie joked

“Shut up” Sebastian said. 

Once the interview was over, the four of you went out for a few drinks. Sebastian was talkative with the boys but not with you, which was weird.

“Are you okay?” you asked him

“Yeah why wouldn’t I be?” he asked

“You’re kind of quiet”

“No I’m not, I’m talking” he said annoyed

“That’s what I mean, what did I do? Because you’re fine with them but apparently not with me” you explained

“Gee I don’t know maybe because you’re not MY type remember” Sebastian gritted. You gasped at his response, you didn’t think he got butt hurt over that comment you had made during the interview. You and Sebastian stared at each other for a few minutes, Mackie and Winston both looked at you two.

“You know Mackie, we should go get a few more drinks” Winston said breaking the silence

“I’ll go get them” you said

“No no, we will” Mackie said in agreement with Winston. 

“I’m sorry if my comment hurt you, which I don’t know why it did” you said.

“Really you don’t know why?” Sebastian scoffed. 

“No I don’t, I wouldn’t have gotten butt hurt over it”

“Whatever, I’m leaving” Sebastian said getting up from his seat but you stopped him.

“NO, I am leaving since you have no problem with the guys”. You grabbed your purse and left with your jacket in hand. 

Winston noticed you leaving, “I don’t think our plan worked Mackie”, Mackie turned to look, you looked sad and you were booking it out the place. Sebastian on the other hand looked pissed.

You walked out of the bar, putting on your jacket and headed back to your hotel. Sebastian had never talked to you in that way, he had always been nice. Your hotel was a bit far but you needed the long walk to clear your head. 

Meanwhile Mackie and Winston were grilling Sebastian about the incident. 

“Nothing happened guys” he said over and over

“Cut the shit Sebs, she looked pretty sad walking out of here” Mackie said.

“We know you like each other” Winston added.

“FINE, I told her that I wasn’t talking to her because she wasn’t my type, I didn’t actually mean that but she did say that earlier so I used it on her” he explained. 

“You’re an idiot” Winston said

“I know” Sebastian replied. 

You were walking for about ten minutes when you heard someone call out your name, you turned to look, it was Mackie.

“Hey! Hold on why are you walking this late?” he asked

“I needed to clear my head, I can’t believe he said that to me” you said almost in tears. 

“Look I know you and him like each other. You need to talk with him about it (Y/N)”

“I tried to and look where I am for doing so Mack”

“You didn’t tell him you liked him though”

“Of course not, I don’t chase men Mackie, plus I meant what I said, I am not his type and I am not changing for someone else”

“He likes you too”

“Oh stop that’s not funny” you said

“He DOES. Think about it, every time we would plan to hang out even if it was just the guys he would invite YOU. Every time we would hang out where would he sit? Beside YOU. Whenever someone would flirt with you or talk about you, he would either get antsy or annoyed, which is funny to see” he said chuckling. You stood there looking at Mackie in shock. 

“Well I won’t say anything until he does and that is not happening” you said. 

“Fine but stop being miserable about it”

“I’m not miserable”

“Okay stop being an ass” he joked with you. “Come on let me walk you, you’re crazy you know, walking out here this late” he said. 

The next morning you walked in late for breakfast since you spent a longer time in the gym to work out your frustrations. You guys were almost done with part of the promo tour before heading to another city. When you walked in, the three were almost finished eating, which was another reason why you took longer, to avoid Sebastian. 

“Good late morning” Mackie said to you

“Good morning guys” you replied. You grabbed your breakfast and headed out since you were planning on checking out a bookstore. You were about to get in your uber when you heard Sebastian call for you

“(Y/N), can we talk?” he asked, you looked at his face, he looked exhausted.

You rolled your eyes, “Fine but I really want to check out this bookstore Sebastian”

“I’ll go, if that’s okay?” he asked

“Okay”.

He held the door open for you to get in. The ride there was quiet, you were looking out your window, trying your best to avoid his gaze. 

You arrived at the bookstore, you immediately headed to the crime genre section. Sebastian walked around for a bit, trying to build his courage in telling you how he felt about you. “Fuck it” he said to himself, he went to where you were, when he found you, you were sitting on the floor, focused deep in a book. He was so in love with you it hurt. 

He sat down next to you, “What” you said but didn’t move your eyes from the book. 

“I’m sorry for what I said last night and I know it’s not an excuse for me saying it but you hurt my feelings when you said you weren’t my type” he said softly

“Okay” you replied. 

“You’re really going to make me work for it huh” he smirked to himself. 

“What?” you asked finally looking at him. 

“That is why I like you. You aren’t my type but you’re YOU (Y/N). You make me feel things that I never have before, it scares the fuck out of me because I know you’ll never hurt me but I don’t ever want to hurt you. And I did last night which I felt so bad about” he said, “I like you because you don’t change yourself for anyone, you’re beautiful, funny, adventurous, you make me feel alive and you’re just you”.

You didn’t know what to say at first, “Sebastian, I’ve liked you for a long time, you scare me because I’m tired of getting hurt by guys, I don’t want to lose you and frankly I know what you go after plus I know I’m the best” you said winking at him.

He chuckled at your last remark, “I can definitely agree with that, now will you agree to go on a date with me? Let’s see where this goes” he asked you.

You looked at him, looking into his eyes for a bit, “Okay, let’s see where it goes”. 

Three years later

“And like a dumbass, he let her walk out” Mackie said on the microphone at yours and Sebastian’s wedding. Sebastian laughed at the comment but he wasn’t wrong about it. “But I am glad that they worked it out because they are just perfect for each other. I want to toast to these two amazing people, I wish them all the happiness in the world, cheers to (Y/N) and Sebastian!” everyone else clapped, you and Sebastian were definitely going to make it.