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foreverdolly · 1 month

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ೃ࿔ SAVAGE BONDS part 4 『 feyd rautha x atreides!reader 』

summary: destined to one another since conception, your very life belongs to feyd rautha. as a token of good will you are sent to the strange planet of giedi prime a week before your wedding ceremony, only to learn that it is far more hostile than you imagined it would be. a failed assassination attempt has tempers flaring and sparks flying when it is decided to be safer to sleep alongside feyd. you hate to admit it, but he has played the part of a "protector" better than the guards who were tasked to watch over you. whilst you have been dreading this union all of your life, feyd has been anticipating it. meeting you as children had left him awe-struck. . . and a bit obsessed.

warnings: !SMUT HEAVY IN FUTURE PARTS!, feyd is super overprotective in this fic and kills multiple people in your honor, blood and gore, it's a dark romance folks, political marriage, forced proximity, temporary unrequited love, a lil dubious consent in some scenes, there's a lot of talk about breeding, enemies to lovers (in your mind, not his), there's a "who did this to you" scene, knife play, blood kink, breeding kink heavy, lots of scent marking/marking.

there is a mild noncon scene in this chapter. read at your own risk or skip past it.

word count: 5.2k

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In that strange place between waking and sleep- that's where you currently existed. You made a home there, wading through the waters of confusion as the events of last night came flooding back to you. At first none of it felt real. It was all a dream. . . it had to be.

But there was a foreign warmth beside you and something heavy weighing down on your chest, and while your limbs were numb with sleep you could still register that it wasn’t you. Not your arm.

Not your warmth.

So you opened your eyes and joined the land of the living once more.

The mornings on Caladan were lovely. Light filtered through your curtains regardless of the frequent overcast, the sprawling farmlands vibrant and oh so alive all around you. Your childhood home was all blue-grays and greens. The halls smelled briney- slightly citrus during the spring and summer months. The air was always humid, despite the chill; moisture clinging to your skin and clothes.

Feyd’s room was slate gray and black, slightly bigger than the one you had been sleeping in since your arrival on Giedi Prime. The air was acrid, the scent of iron so heavy in the air that it almost tasted sweet on your tongue. It was on your palate now, nearly causing you to gag when you took in a deep, steadying breath.

You had wanted to go home the second you stepped foot on the industrial planet, if only because you despised change. You wanted your family, your horses, your ocean-side view. Now, looking back at how childish your home-sick reasonings were, you couldn’t help but feel naive.

Not one, but many, had conspired against you. They had hopes that their pale prince would cut his losses and grow bored of you, but took it upon themselves to rid their hallowed halls of your presence. Anger began strumming through your veins, begging for release.

You did not let the feeling take shape. Acting on hate alone would be your undoing, you knew that. Yes, you were not as strong as some of Geidi Primes weakest warriors, but you made up for it with your. . . inherited gifts.

Your hand flew to your neck, hissing when your fingertips made contact with the tender skin. You groaned, your larynx screaming at protest. Did this mean. . .

No.

No, no, no.

You sat upright in bed, Feyd groaning as his arm was flung off of your chest due to your haste. Unable to process the reality that he had been touching you so casually, you instead focused on the fact that the noise you had just emitted sounded choppy. Garbled. Useless.

“My voice,” You started, eyes widening to the size of saucers as the words reached your ears. It was exactly as you feared. “I can’t use it.”

You could barely speak normally, let alone be able to manipulate the Voice. How long would it take your throat to heal? A few days? A week? A month? It had only taken two days for a few of the Baron’s men to plan out their attack. Who knew when they would try to strike again? You were a sitting duck and you refused to die like this.

“You won’t need it.” Feyd’s deep voice sounded beside you, the sheets rustling as his muscled body rolled over on the plush bed.

You tried in vain not to be distracted by his naked chest- by the planes of perfectly toned abs and the swell of his biceps as he stretched them above his head. It was gross to be attracted to him; disgusting, really.

Even in the light of day- if you could even call the murky gray that came in through the blinds light- the shadows seemed to pool around the bloodthirsty man. He wore them like a second skin. Had become them and learned to wield them at will.

His face was once again spotless, no blood to be found on him from last night's activities. He had been utterly soaked just a few hours ago. It had dripped down his sword arm, his nightshirt clinging to his chest and shoulders. . . and he had washed it all away down the drain like the lives he had taken meant nothing.

And it probably didn’t mean a damn thing to a man like him. Someone so used to reaping souls and shattering lives.

Your chest swelled as you turned to face him, scooting as far back on the bed as you possibly could. When you had fallen asleep he was lounging on the couch. He must have slipped into bed once you were asleep, outwardly lying about the fact that he would put distance between the two of you.

“I am not safe here.” You spat out, your broken voice still dripping with venom.

He seemed bored, as if your worries were unfounded. “I will cleave the heads off of anyone that even looks in your direction.” He said simply. Not a threat but a crimson stained promise.

Gone was the starry eyed girl who saw nothing wrong with the galaxy. Your innocence had been stripped from you the second that the man’s hands had found their way around your throat. Your body finally seemed to register pain now that you were fully awake. Your back felt like hell- a purple bruise no doubt marring your skin where it had connected with the heavy dresser. And your cheek? You brushed your fingers over that spot next. It felt hot under your touch.

“I can protect myself.” That was a lie. You could taste the horribly constructed fib on the tip of your tongue and it was bitter. Impossible to stomach.

Feyd sat up on his elbows then, looking over your face. His eyes hardened on your cheek, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth when his eyes started to dip lower. How was it possible that anyone expected you to ever grow used to his presence? His eyes on you felt like a hot brand. You attempted to flinch away from him as his hand reached out for your neck, but he touched you anyway.

“I should have savored that kill. Taken my time.” His voice was still gravely from sleep, but the anger was clear on his face.

Seeing you like this, for whatever reason, enraged him. You didn’t want to know why. . . at least you told yourself that. A man like Feyd couldn’t possibly care for anyone and you doubted that he would ever be capable of such an emotion.

“Do you truly take joy in murdering others?” You couldn’t understand him. There was no common ground between the two of you. He was a complete mystery to you.

They hadn’t even been your deaths, and yet here you were, feeling torn about all of the blood that had been shed. Feyd had killed seven men last night. Were you really worth all of that?

“I’m culling the herd,” He sat up then, his eyes sparking with a sick sense of delight that had your stomach roiling. This sounded like the ramblings of a madman.“They were weak, body and mind. Disobedient soldiers should always be purged. They were a disease, and I treated them as such.” The corner of his lip tugged up into a small smirk, as if he was reliving the moment that his blade cleaved through flesh and bone.

“You went overboard on my behalf.” They would hate you more now. Those guards no doubt had loved ones, all of whom would be gunning for you now.

“Would you rather I left them all alive? Given them a small slap on the wrist?” He was leaning in now, as if being closer to you would give him a better understanding of where you were coming from.

The sheets wrapped around your limbs, acting like restraints as you tried to back away from him and his intimidating presence. You couldn’t help but feel as though he was sizing you up, questioning whether he could swallow you up in one bite. His eyes, lidded with sleep and hazy with something you couldn’t quite discern told you that he would eat very, very slowly. Your fingers twitched at your sides, his eyes narrowing as though he could smell your fear in the air that the both of you now shared due to your close proximity.

“No,” You hated that you were agreeing with him. “They would have found another way to kill me. I just hate that you had to make such a show of it all.” I hate that I couldn’t kill them myself.

Who were you to decide if someone lived or died for their crimes? And yet. . . you were glad that they were dead. You couldn’t find it within yourself to feel sorry for them. They got exactly what they deserve, so why did you feel so awful about it?

Because the “old” you would have begged for their lives to be spared. That sweet, innocent girl would have abhorred the blood and gore, which begged the question: who did that make you now? Has this place truly changed you so intrinsically in a matter of days? You hated the idea that you were adjusting to the environment. It terrified you.

Feyd could see the anger churning behind your wide eyes, no matter how hard you tried to mask it. You were beautiful like this, so accepting of his nature. . . and yet you still fought him. Still fought this. He adored you for it. Loved you for it. There it was again- that word. He let the phrase sink into his bones, settle inside of his chest.

‘I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.

Look at what I can do for you. Let me kill again for you. Let me prove my worth. Let me have you. Let me taste you. Let me devour you until there is nothing left.’

He was so close now that the heat and smell of him was clouding your mind. Much like the smog outside, he was poisoning the air around you. The sheets tightened around your legs as you tried to kick them off of you, hellbent on escaping the bed and dressing for the day. You were starving, sore, and in desperate need of another hot bath. You still felt dirty after last night, like the stains hadn’t been completely washed away.

He was looking at you with those eyes. God, his eyes. . . they were blue, bottomless pits and you were sinking. . . drowning. You found it hard to breathe while he was looking at you like that. He was assessing you with a heated gaze that unwillingly set your insides ablaze. His hands were suddenly on the sides of your upper thighs, the insides of his wrists brushing against them. You could feel skin against skin, your thin nightdress doing nothing to shield you from his touch.

“You wanted them dead, I can tell.” And he smiled at that, a genuine one full of misplaced mirth.

“I don’t want anyone to die.” Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, so heavy that you suddenly found it hard to speak.

“I didn’t take you for a liar, little Atreides.” His head tilted to the side as he licked his lips. He was so close to you that his tongue nearly brushed against your parted lips.

And then he was pulling away, his warmth being ripped away from you far too quickly. Feyd left you on the bed as he sauntered over to his closet, unabashed of his half naked body- almost as though he was proud to show it off to you. His broad shoulders, toned back- it was well earned. It was the body of a warrior- of a killer.

You had to remind yourself that he was a murderer, tearing your eyes from him. It was almost as though you couldn’t get enough oxygen. Your lungs ached as you realized that he had practically siphoned it out of the room with his commanding presence.

He terrified you down to your very core. It was as though he was seeing your soul for what it truly was. . .

And it was as black as his own.

The Na-Baron’s hand against the small of your back felt more like a collar than anything. You couldn’t help but wonder if that was how you appeared to others now, like nothing more than a pet. It was a silent show of ownership, as were his hardened eyes as he turned his head to glare at each and every guard that passed in the hall. Their familiar uniform had your knees buckling and your hands shaking. He must have felt those tremors, for his fingers tangled themselves into the fabric of your shirt, like he could anchor you to him. ‘You’re safe with me,’ the gesture seemed to say.

The floor had been wiped clean of last night's massacre and it was almost as if it had never happened at all. You wished that you could delude yourself into believing that it hadn’t, but your aching bones were a constant reminder. An Atreides did not belong here.

The distance that you craved was not something that Feyd seemed keen on granting. When you had finished bathing earlier, your skin scrubbed raw, you had found him lounging back against the bed, eyes trained on the bathroom door. His presence was stifling, as were the halls of this strange empire. They appeared to be tightening around you, reminding you of your lack of freedom.

A canary in a gilded cage.

“I’ve been filled in on the events of last night,” The Baron said as a way of greeting when the two of you found your way into the dining room. “You had your fun it seemed, nephew.” He didn’t sound angry, which was good you supposed. Then again, he didn’t sound very approving either.

Feyd paused for a split second in the doorway, his lips pursing in confusion. You recalled him saying that the Baron always ate his meals in his own quarters. Your throat bobbed as Feyd’s hands urged you further into the room. Suddenly you were no longer hungry. Like a child, you wished that you could dig your heels in and refuse to make your way any further inside. While his nephew scared and confused you, Baron Vladimir Harkonnen was an absolute waking nightmare. From his pale, unattractive face to his plump, gluttonous build- even his eyes seemed completely void of any light. Your quivering worsened because you knew, even if Feyd wanted to keep you alive for whatever reason, that he would not disobey his beloved uncle. You would never expect that of him. If the Harkonnen wanted you dead. . . then so it shall be.

“It was very enjoyable.” Feyd said simply, sitting down in the chair directly beside you.

The Baron, at his spot at the head of the table, felt miles away. He was assessing the two of you, his gaze bouncing from your form and then to that of his nephew. It wasn’t until Feyd placed his arm over the back of your chair that he finally smiled. It looked more like a sneer than anything else, and all at once you wished to punch those teeth right out of his skull. His ill treatment of your father would never be forgotten, forced marriage or not.

“You two look. . . close.” He concluded, folding his hands in his lap as he sat back. His dark robes hugged all of the wrong places- he was greed in the flesh.

Feyd didn’t say anything, but he did lean in closer. It occurred to you that he was acting almost like a shield between you and his uncle. All at once your shaking stopped, your eyes flickering up to meet his face for the briefest of moments before you finally looked down at your plate. Again, the food did not appeal to your appetite. There were no fresh fruits or vegetables. Everything was brown, beige and white. The meals here were void of any color or variety and you found it fitting.

“We slept together last night, as it should have been from the very beginning.” Feyd said, no room for arguments. His tone was final- absolute, even in the face of the one person that he answered directly to.

Your cheeks were suddenly blazing hot as you realized how easily his statement could be misunderstood. Your lips parted, as though you could defend yourself and set the record straight, but the Baron was already nodding. He didn’t care either way. You were sent here to procreate, afterall. What the two of you did or didn’t do meant nothing to him. As the daughter of Duke Atreides you were nothing more than a pawn- a bargaining piece at best. Your blood boiled as you stabbed your fork into whatever meat had been served. It was all you could do not to brandish the small serrated blade that laid beside your plate and shove it through one of Vladimir’s overly assessing eyes.

“I just thought that she might have wanted her own space before the ceremony,” He started, gesturing towards you. It was as though you weren’t even in the room at all. “But I’ll make sure that her things are brought to your room.”

You did want your own space. Desperately. This whole situation felt wrong, and yet you were helpless. A few more days in your own room was nothing, really. Not when the two of you would be sharing a room for the remainder of your lives.

“It’s our room.” Feyd corrected, using his free hand so that he could take a sip of his drink.

His arm brushed against the back of your neck as he leaned forward ever-so-slightly so that he could place the cup back down on the table. The brush of his skin against yours sent a chill down your spine.

“Very well. Your shared room.” And the Baron seemed pleased.

The cogs started turning in your head as you stared at that expression on his face. Was that gloating that you sensed?

He looked as though he had won.

It would make no sense at all for the Baron to be so concerned with the status of your relationship, and yet there he had been, smiling as if he had bested you. Did he know something that you didn’t? It would be dangerous to voice the thoughts that you were having- unwise. Feyd was sure to take his uncle’s side on everything. At the end of the day you were little more than a warm, wet hole to breed. . . right?

Your skin crawled, your breathing growing more and more shallow as the seconds passed. What would your mother do if she was put in a situation like this? The urge to talk to her was stifling, and yet you were here alone. You had no allies here. You had been left to your own devices.

“You aren’t going to beg me to train with you today?” Feyd asked from the open door of the bathroom.

He’d left it wide open while he changed, as if he was daring you to gawk and stare. You were too busy panicking to even care that he could very well be naked mere feet away from where you sat on the bed. The Baron was guilty of something, that you knew with certainty. You bit down onto your lower lip, staring blankly ahead at the wall as you became more and more consumed by your frightening thoughts.

“What are you thinking about, little one?” His voice was right beside your ear and you jumped back, staring wide eyed at where he was kneeling before you.

He stared up at you expectantly, waiting for you to tell him what currently had you so quiet. His uncle had been unusual at breakfast, more so than Feyd was used to. The Baron was a busy man, and the last thing on his agenda was to eat with his nephew and his bride-to-be. He was cautious, and yet he didn’t want you to know. He would handle your safety from now on, even if that meant going against those that shared the very blood that pumped through his own veins.

The expression on your face had him leaning closer. You were so meek. . . so fearful. The need to protect you was overwhelming. How could someone ever want to hurt you? His eyes flickered over your bruises for the one hundredth time that afternoon, rage settling like lead in the pit of his stomach.

“I’m thinking. . .” You started, eyes becoming glassy. “That I was sent here to die.”

Feyd, for the first time in his life, felt helpless. He did not know how to calm you down. The man didn’t know the first thing about comforting someone, but the thought of leaving you to your own devices and panic had a gasp escaping his throat.

“Do you not believe me when I say that I will protect you? Have I not proved myself?” Actions spoke louder than words, or at least Feyd had always believed that, and yet you didn’t seem to understand what he was trying to say. His actions weren’t enough.

“You’re protecting me because you have to. I understand that well enough, but that doesn’t mean that something won’t happen. You are the enemy Feyd. My enemy.” You spoke with so much conviction and looked at him like you hadn’t just gutted him.

Feyd felt as though you had physically slapped him across the face. The chase was fun, but this. . . this wasn’t you acting hard to get. This was you drawing a very clear line in the sand. You didn’t like him and perhaps never would. And maybe it made Feyd even more despicable than anyone ever thought possible, but part of him did not care. You could fight it all you wanted, it did not negate the fact that you belonged to him. It did not negate the fact that he cared for you. . .

Cared so deeply that it had him questioning whether or not he had ever really known joy or a true sense of belonging before now.

“I am not them.” He rasped out, knowing that you’d understand exactly who he was implying.

He was not like the others. He never had been. He had a penchant for cruelty and a talent for killing, but he would never hurt you for sport. He knew of Harkonnen men that battered their women simply because they could, but the mere idea of putting his hands on you made him want to sink his blade into his own chest and twist. How could he ever explain that to you? Put his emotions into words when you knew so little about him? How could he tell you that he’d been dreaming of you since he was a child? Vivid, prophetic dreams that left him lonely and impatient.

“But you are.” There was a strange glint in his eyes that had your words leaving you in a breathy whisper. You were being vulnerable with him. Showing him your worst fears and letting him know that you currently had no more aces up your sleeves. The Voice was useless to you right now, and no matter how skilled you were in combat, it would mean nothing if you were up against an entire planet of people that wished you dead and silenced. You had kept the fear bottled in for three days now, and you had no one to confide in.

You would regret this, you knew it with a surety that nearly had you choking on a sob. This information could be used against you. He’d make sure that you met your end the second that you birthed him an heir. . .

So why did he look offended by your words?

His plush lips parted, blue eyes widening for a second as he fully comprehended what you had just uttered to him. Having you as his would be sweet, yes, but it paled in comparison to the idea that you would eventually care for him in the same way that he did for you. It lit a fire inside of him, and he didn’t understand how to make you see.

Feyd needed you to open your eyes and understand that he was not your enemy. He was the only person on all of Giedi Prime that was absolutely, without any question or doubt, on your side. He would burn the entire planet to ash if he had to. He’d serve his uncle’s heart on a silver platter and let you eat your fill if it meant that you would come to understand his level of utter devotion.

You blinked and suddenly you were on your back, a small grunt escaping you as his calloused palm pushed against your chest, too fast for you to even register. He was on top of you, straddling your hips. The weight of him on top of you had your teeth clenching, your traitorous body reacting in a way that sickened you. Civilizations had worshiped at the feet of long forgotten Gods that weren’t half as beautiful and cruel as Feyd-Rautha.

“You are my wife-” He started to speak, but you were quick to interrupt him, refusing to back down.

“Not yet.” You seethed.

Feyd couldn’t help but want to fight you on that, to challenge the unnecessary bite in your tone. If you were so hellbent on treating him like an enemy then so be it. He’d push you to a breaking point. He’d make you love and trust him. He’d show your true enemies such cruelty that you’d have no reason to doubt his convictions.

And before he could reign in his emotions, before he could feel any guilt, he was lurching forward. Long fingers tangled themselves into your hair as his lips pressed against yours. Unyielding, he dominated your mouth, teeth sinking into your lower lip. He needed to taste you- your mouth, your blood.

Sweat, tears, slick. He wanted all of it on his tongue.

The years spent waiting and biding his time had been worse than he realized, for the second his lips pressed against yours he found it hard to stop himself. The need that coursed through him now was more powerful than anything else he had ever experienced. You yelped against his mouth in pain, trying your hardest to flinch back at the sharp pain in your lip. The mattress and his unyielding grip on you kept you from moving even an inch. He took advantage of that small sound, his tongue lapping at the roof of your mouth lazily, the salty iron of your own blood invading your senses.

And he was everywhere. His weight was on top of you, his arms on either side of your head, his fingers buried in your hair- and you couldn’t get away. You tried bucking him off, hands grabbing at his training shirt so that you could try and pry him off of you. The muscles in your arms strained as you pulled, thighs quivering as you tried your damndest to flip him over onto the bed. You would not kiss him back.

No matter how badly your instincts were telling you to give in. That voice in the back of your head was loud, but the sound of your own pounding heart in your ears drowned it out. Your body burned as he slid his hips down slightly, changing his angle so that he could grind himself against you. The friction sent a jolt of what felt like lightning shooting up your spine. It took all of your self restraint not to moan into his mouth, which would no doubt motivate him to push this even further.

You felt him. All of him, even through all the layers of clothing that separated the two of you. He was hard, to what must have been a point of physical pain, over a mere kiss. His lips were unexpectedly soft on yours, far softer than the very few men that you had kissed in the past. They moved languidly against yours, and you wanted to be disgusted by the fact that he seemed to be enjoying himself immensely.

You hated the part of you that craved this. You could deny it all that you wanted, but the dull ache between your traitorous legs told you what your mind could not: a sick part of you wanted this. Maybe it was the very same part of you that had wanted those guards dead.

You should hate him. You wanted to hate him. You needed to hate him.

And then his hands were sliding down the back of your neck, his lips sliding down the base of your throat-

“Stop! Feyd, stop!” You finally found your voice, sucking in a breath of air. You felt dizzy, and yet your body was more alive than it ever had been.

Traitor. You were a traitor to your family.

He sat up then, eyes glazed over, his thick lashes casting shadows on the tops of his cheeks in the dim lighting.

“Do you hate me?” He panted out, voice thick with an emotion that you couldn’t quite place. It was as if he could read your mind.

“Yes.” You lied. This lie was even harder to swallow than your last for whatever reason. Maybe it was the heady look in your eyes or your swollen, well kissed lips. . . but Feyd knew you weren’t telling the truth.

“I’ll fuck you until you want me,” And his harsh, horrible words didn’t quite match the tender way he cupped your cheek. “And then you’ll want me so badly that you’ll love me.”

He got off of you then, forcing himself away from you before he made a mistake. Today was not the day to claim you, not with the previous night so fresh on your mind. He would figure out a way to apologize for his loss of control later. For now he needed a change of scenery, preferably one that didn’t have a bed. . . or a couch. . . or a table. . . or a counter-

“Pig,” You spat in his direction, quickly fumbling to straighten out your now wrinkled clothing.

“Your training clothes are in our closet. Put them on.” He was still breathing heavily, pacing around the room with his hands on his hips. His cock was straining against the confines of his pants, begging him to turn around and finish what he started- make good on the promise he just made to you.

“Are you crazy?” You screamed at him, lurching up from the bed as though you were going to attack him.

Slowly he turned to face you, his features twisting into something that looked a tad bit like forlorn yearning.

“Yes,” And he nodded, not denying the fact. “Yes I am.”

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dark-fics-4-you · 13 days

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Number One Fan ch. IV

Dark!stepbro!Rafe Cameron x f!Reader (with a side of JJ Maybank x f!Reader)

Warnings: noncon (aka rape), incest (step siblings), forced sex, mentions of past noncon, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, unwanted creampie, violence, abduction, gaslighting, m!receiving masturbation, reader has some ptsd like symptoms from past noncon

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Sarah had been the first to call out the fact that you were acting differently. After all, the entire family was staying together over winter break and with no classes or extracurricular activities to take up anyone’s time, your absence was noticeable.

Despite all of your reassurances that you were okay, Sarah would not stop pressing you.

“It’s just that you’re holed up in your room basically 24/7, Y/N. I’m starting to get a little worried. All of us are actually, at dinner last night Rafe could not shut up about you.”

At the mention of your step brother’s name your stomach flipped, nerves flaring as you thought about him.

The party had happened a couple weeks ago, but that night had been heavy in your mind ever since. After Rafe confirmed that he hadn’t been in your room that night, you had tried to write it all off as some twisted dream, but the shadowy memories that had been coming back to you since were eating you alive.

Everything about it had felt so real. Each time you looked back on it, you seemed to remember another detail, another reason to question yourself and your step-brother.

Rafe had told you he hadn’t came into your room the next morning when you asked him about it, but the details weren’t adding up.

The entire situation didn’t sit right with you.

You wanted so badly to brush it all of, to assume it was just a bad dream, but you also didn’t want to think that your brain was capable of conjuring up a situation as nightmarish and nauseating as your step brother sneaking into your room and eating you out.

Another thing that you couldn’t get out of your mind was how drunk Rafe had been trying to get you that night. Not only that, but he had given you some coke, which was a rare occurrence. Any other time you had asked to try it, your older brother declined, telling you that he cared about you too much to risk you getting addicted.

The few times he had ever let you do a line was in the house, on a night no one was throwing a party, where you both knew it would be a safe environment. He had never let you do coke a party, much less offered it to you.

You hadn’t even thought to question it at the time, too intoxicated to think twice, but now you felt suspicious.

For the first time in your life, you were incredibly uncomfortable being around your older step brother.

Tannyhill was huge, but Rafe’s looming presence made it feel small.

Leaving your room became an anxiety inducing ordeal, you were never sure if you would bump into him and have to pretend like you weren’t reliving the sensation of his lips sliding over yours, the way his mouth felt wrapped around your clit, the feeling of his fingers pumping inside of your slick cunt, or how good it felt to come undone onto his fingers and tongue.

The worst was how much every one of his touches now set your skin on fire. Whereas before the party, you had never been one to shy away from displaying physical affection with your older brother, now the thought of it made a pit of dread grow in your stomach.

You were even more ashamed of the fact that you had even noticed yourself growing wet when Rafe was around.

Once, after his low voice reached your ears from behind and he wrapped his arms around waist, picking you up and spinning you around before setting you back down, your cheeks warmed and you squeezed your thighs together when you felt a hot warmth between your legs, quietly mumbling an excuse before running to your room, where you stayed the rest of the night in ashamed confusion.

Another time, after Rafe had noticed you watching TV on the living room couch, wearing one of your cute, little tennis dresses (that he had bought for you), he sat next to you and asked you to cuddle up to him, like you had so many times before. This time, when you climbed into his lap, you couldn’t focus on the show at all, instead praying that your step brother couldn’t feel your panties growing damp from the close proximity to him.

What you didn’t know was that Rafe had a good idea of why you were acting differently. He knew that you must have some memory of that night, and he had been getting immense enjoyment from your discomfort and squirming.

Although he did wish that you had remembered less so you would go on being the oblivious, sweet little sister he had gotten used to. Rafe didn’t like that you had withdrawn yourself from him so much.

Sarah cleared her throat in front of you with a nervous laugh, and you realized you had zoned out right in front of her for several seconds longer than was normal.

“I’m just still feeling really tired from the last semester still,” you lied, nervously looking down as you played with a strand of your hair.

Sarah raised an eyebrow doubtfully, before shaking her head and taking a step closer to you before wrapping her arms around you in a hug.

“I’m here for you, Y/N.” She whispered into your hair as she squeezed you a little tighter. “You know you can always talk to me about anything.”

Her words were kind, and you felt guilty for ignoring her for the past few weeks and thankful that she was offering some friendship.

“And Rafe too.” Sarah added as she stepped away from the hug, and your blood ran cold.

“I know he may act distant at times but he really loves you, Y/N.” She continued, unaware of the nausea growing in your gut. “He can’t shut up about how weird it is that you’ve been ignoring all of us. I think he misses you but doesn’t know how to tell you.”

“Um, yeah,” you managed. Your mouth felt so dry and you could feel your heartbeat picking up. Your ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton, but there was a high pitched ringing that was still forcing it’s way to the middle of your forehead.

“Anyways me, John B, and the rest of the Pogues were gonna go to the Wreck in half an hour, would you want to come along?” Sarah smiled at you and you felt excited about something for the first time in a while.

You hadn’t seen JJ since the party and you had been ignoring all of his calls, upset that he had skipped out on the party without saying anything to you.

Maybe if you met up with him and talked one-on-one, you could finally put this behind you and get back to the good relationship you had with JJ before.

You told Sarah yes and she lit up before telling you to get ready and going back into her room to pick her outfit out.

You turned away from her to walk back to own room when a noise from just down the hall caught your attention.

Your head swiveled to Rafe’s closed door and you heard a sound that sounded like your name from the inside.

Concerned for your brother, you walked to the door and knocked twice.

“Rafe? Are you okay?” You called out from the other side of the closed door and you heard a muffled, “fuck!” come from inside.

“Rafe?” You asked again, now somewhat more concerned.

“One second!” His voice sounded strained and you waited for several moments before he finally cracked his door. He was shirtless and only wearing boxers and you nervously averted your eyes away from his body.

“What, Y/N/N?”

“Oh, I thought I heard you say my name, I’m sorry.”

“Well I didn’t.”

You silently swallowed, nervous because Rafe was standing so close and towering over you.

“Um, Sarah and I are gonna go to the Wreck with the other Pogues soon, just thought I’d let you know.”

“Cool.” His blue eyes didn’t reveal anything, and you almost missed the way they flicked down and then up your body quickly. “Don’t have too much fun.”

You nervously laughed, assuming your older brother would join in, but he didn’t even crack a smile before he quickly shut his door in front of you.

Weird, you thought to yourself before turning back to walk to your room, trying not to dwell on it too much.

You picked out a simple, but cute dress. It was white with a mid thigh length skirt and a light green floral pattern. The thin straps revealed your shoulders and the cut was very flattering. You were sure Sarah and Kie would love it.

On the other side of Rafe’s door, he sat on his bed again, freeing his erection from the tight fabric of his boxers and grabbing his phone. He opened up the pic of you passed out at the party with your slick cunt on display for him, before wrapping his hand around his cock and finishing what you had just unknowingly interrupted.

When you arrived at the Wreck with Sarah, the Pogues were quick to rush out and hug you, happily filling you in on all the things you had missed. Although, you noticed that JJ had hung back and he was nervously looking at you from a safe distance. You also couldn’t help but spot the faded scar above his eye that you hadn’t seen before.

You were still upset with him, but it also hurt to see him looking so upset, knowing that it was only because you had been ignoring him.

Kie and John B were telling you an insane story about being chased by an alligator after the Twinkie got stuck in a swamp as you all walked inside and sat down at a table.

You were happily surprised when JJ sat across from you, shooting you a small smile, which you returned.

Your orders were taken pretty quickly, and you were happy that it felt like the group dynamics hadn’t faded at all in your absence, and they hadn’t changed now that you had returned.

Kie, John B, Sarah, and Pope had all gotten sucked into an argument over whether hot dogs were sandwiches or not, and you met JJ’s eyes for real for the first time since the party.

“So.. what happened?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to explain to you, Y/N, but you’ve been dodging all my calls.” JJ said exasperatedly, but not loudly enough to pull the other Pogues away from their riveting hot dog discourse.

You sighed, looking away before mumbling, “I was just really upset that you bailed on me. A-and I’ve been dealing with some other shit too.”

“I’m sorry,” JJ apologized empathetically. “It was never my intention to hurt you. I was at the party.”

At this admission, your eyebrows rose in surprise, “you were?”

“Yeah, and your brother’s meathead football teammates wouldn’t let me inside. Gave me this as a party favor,” he gestured to the small scar above his brow and you now noticed the mostly faded bruising on his eyelid.

“What the hell?” You asked in disbelief. “Why would they do that?”

“I dunno,” he shook his head. “They told me Rafe said no Pogues allowed, and they didn’t like it when I tried to sneak past them.”

JJ laughed, but you were frowning now.

Why would Rafe have gotten his friends to stop JJ from coming in after he had promised you that you could throw your own party that night?

“I tried to call you to explain, but you never picked up…” JJ sadly finished, trailing off as he twisted one of his rings.

“Shit JJ, I’m sorry. I was so angry with you, I just assumed that you hadn’t come to the party at all.”

A french fry flew across the air and lightly wacked into your face, surprising you and causing the other side of the table to burst into laughter before you and JJ joined as well.

“Are you two lovebirds gonna talk to us at all?” Kie laughed, and you and JJ both blushed and exchanged grins before turning your attention back to the group.

The rest of the night went well. The awkwardness between you and JJ had mostly faded, and was now replaced with a new excitement at the idea that perhaps you and JJ could still continue your relationship.

After paying the bill, you all walked out into the parking lot, still laughing and joking around.

You began your goodbyes, hugging all of your friends before getting to JJ last. Sarah got the hint from your pointed glance that you’d prefer if she stayed in the car for a second so you could talk to JJ.

As the rest of your friends got in their cars and drove off, the two of you smiled at each other before embracing and you laughed when JJ picked you up and spun you around.

He had pulled you in to hug you again after setting you on your feet when all of the sudden, he was violently ripped away from you, causing you to almost lose your balance.

You heard the gasp from JJ as you lurched forward and your eyes widened at the sight of Rafe releasing JJ before punching him across the jaw, and knocking him to the ground.

“Rafe!” You screamed at him in terror and confusion, but he just ignored you.

“Are you trying to fuck my little sister? Huh, Maybank?” Rafe screamed at JJ, and you couldn’t stop the tears that were streaming down your face as you watched him punch JJ again.

Your pulse was racing in your ears as you helplessly watched, too shocked and frozen in place to intervene.

At this point, Sarah had noticed what was happening and ran from her car, yelling at Rafe to stop. When she rushed over to them, desperately trying to pull Rafe off of JJ, Rafe roughly shoved her to the ground.

“Stay the fuck out of it, Sarah!” He spat at her angrily.

While he was momentarily distracted with Sarah, JJ swung at him, his fist connecting with Rafe’s cheek this time.

“Don’t push her like that!” JJ yelled as you rushed over to Sarah to help her off of the ground.

“Are you okay?!”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” she gasped as you pulled her to her feet and stepped away from Rafe and JJ, watching as the two stared each other down with hate filled eyes.

JJ faked left before going right, but Rafe quickly ran at him, tackling the other blond to the ground and landing multiple blows on his face.

You and Sarah were screaming again, and this time, you were the one to try to pull Rafe away.

With all of your strength, you ran at Rafe, knocking him off of JJ and onto his side beneath you, but he recovered faster than you, and you whimpered when his hand closed tightly around your wrist and you were pulled to your feet.

Rafe had given up on attacking JJ now; his only objective was to get you away from Sarah and that Pogue scum.

“What are you doing, Rafe??” Sarah yelled at him as she rushed over to JJ to check on him, torn between staying by his side and running over to help you.

“Sarah!” You yelped as he tugged you further away from her and towards his parked truck.

“We’re gonna go for a little drive. We’ll be back later.” Rafe yelled over his shoulder at Sarah before he opened his car door and shoved you inside, quickly locking the door before you could escape and walking to the driver’s side door.

He unlocked it, climbing inside and relocking the doors quicker than you could open yours and you slammed on the window in frustration before glaring at him.

As he sped out of the parking lot, you looked back to see Sarah kneeling over JJ in tears.

“Where the fuck are you taking me?” You demanded, anger evident in your voice.

Rafe was silent, his blue eyes locked on the road as he tore through the back

“Turn the fuck around and take me back now! What is wrong with you?!” You hissed, wiping away more tears that wouldn’t stop falling.

“No.” He responded, irritation growing on his face.

Frustration and anger festered inside of you as you glared at your step brother before turning your head to watch the trees fly past you as Rafe accelerated.

“You missed the turn for our house, idiot.”

“We’re not going back to the house until you calm down,” his tone was hard and demeaning, like he was talking down to a child.

“You’re the one who needs to calm down, Rafe!” You snapped at him and he rolled his eyes. “You could have killed him!”

Rafe laughed at that, but it completely lacked humor, “JJ’s been getting too close to you recently, Y/N. I told you he’s not good enough for you.”

“So that warranted you beating his face in?!”

Rafe made a sharp turn, driving towards the docks and parking the truck without a word.

The sky had begun growing dark, the last rays of crimson still stained the horizon as the sun dipped below the ocean waves.

The docks were quiet and, unusually, there seemed to be no one walking around this night.

You defiantly sat in place as Rafe opened his door and got out, coming over to your side and opening the door expectantly.

When you made no moves to exit, Rafe grabbed you, pulling you out of the car before he threw you over his shoulder, slammed the door and started walking to the docks.

At first you were too stunned to fight back, but as he continued carrying you, you began yelling at him again and beating on his back with your fists.

“Let go of me!! Put me down, Rafe! Stop it!!”

Your screams fell on deaf ears, and if there was anyone on the docks hearing the commotion, they had chosen to mind their own business and not get involved.

You couldn’t squirm out of his grasp no matter how hard you tried, and your eyes widened when his yacht finally came into view.

All of your arguing and squirming was ignored as he climbed aboard, carrying you with him.

Rafe brought you to the room below deck, throwing you onto the bed and then quickly leaving, locking the door from the outside behind him.

You helplessly grabbed at the doorknob, twisting it to no avail as you banged on the door with your fist.

“Let me out!!!” You screamed at him, straining your vocal chords in your anger.

“Rafe!!”

You heard the sound of the boat engine turn on and a chill ran down your spine as you realized the boat was moving away from the docks.

“What are you doing Rafe?!?!”

You got no response for five minutes despite your continued yelling, the entire time the boat was heading god knows where.

Just when you had given up hope that he was coming back and beginning to believe that Rafe was planning on taking you for an extended boat ride, you were surprised when you heard the motor stop and felt the anchor go down.

You heard Rafe’s footsteps on the stairs and you angrily glared at him as he walked into the room and then locked the door behind him.

“What in the world do you think you’re doing? What is wrong with you??” You shouted at your older step brother.

“JJ told me that you had your friends jump him when he tried to come to the party!” You revealed. “Is that true!”

“Yeah it is,” Rafe responded nonchalantly. “I don’t like you hanging out with scum like him. I’m just looking out for you.”

“You never butt into Sarah’s relationship with John B, he’s a Pogue too!”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“It just is, Y/N! I don’t particularly like that Sarah’s dating John B, but I know that JJ is a bad guy! He’s gonna get you roped into bad shit, and mess up the future that you have ahead of you!”

Rafe’s words were only pissing you off more and the horrible nagging feeling that you had at the back of your brain made you say something you immediately wished you could take back.

“Did you come into my room the night of the party, Rafe?!”

“Yes!” He shouted, and you felt all of the oxygen leave the room.

The silence lingered for several moments and you could hear your blood rushing in your ears. You were so shocked you could only stare at him in disbelief.

“I came into your room that night, and that wasn’t even the first time.” Rafe’s lips curled into a sickeningly smug grin as he took in the shocked expression written all over your face.

A horrible wave of nausea passed over you as you realized the implications of his words.

Your step brother had just admitted to not only fingering you and eating you out at the party, but also to touching you other times you couldn’t even remember.

Your ears were ringing as you looked at him in shock and disgust, tunnel vision blocking out the rest of the room as you numbly watched his lips moving soundlessly.

Rafe reached for your hand and you jerked away from him, panic beginning to set in as you failed to catch your breath.

Your entire view of your step brother was being shattered as you tried to come to terms with the impossible facts that were literally staring you right in front of your face.

“I love you so much, Y/N. Everything I do has always been for you, please you have to believe me.”

You tried to stand up and get past him, desperate to leave the cramped space of the cabin, but Rafe easily grabbed you and threw you back onto the bed, climbing on top of you as you struggled beneath him.

“Get the fuck off of me, Rafe!! Please!” You screamed, begging him as he roughly grabbed your wrist and pinned it to the bed.

You had never been more terrified of your brother than in this moment. His horrible confession had changed everything.

You always knew that Rafe was strong. How could you not? He was always bragging about how much he could lift at the gym to you and bringing you along to show off. It was impossible to miss his muscles straining the fabric of his shirts when you had seen him lifting things around the house or working on his truck.

But you had never been at the mercy of Rafe’s strength until now.

You whined when he painfully twisted your wrist, and he shifted on top of you, nudging your legs apart with his knee and grinding his now obvious hard on against your clothed pussy.

A shameful, disgust settled within you when you could feel your panties growing damp with unwanted arousal.

You squirmed in his grasp, back arching as you tried to pull away. Fear gripped your throat as you looked up at Rafe in heartbroken confusion, your eyes growing blurry with tears.

“You’ve always been such a good little sister, Y/N/N.” Rafe whispered, and you let out a gasp when he shifted his hips, his clothed tip pressed to your clit, making you squeeze your eyes shut.

“Don’t you remember how good I made you feel at the party?” He groaned and you shook your head in denial.

“No, Rafe-”

“I could make you feel even better than that, Y/N.” You felt him shift again, and you tilted your head to watch him begin unzipping his shorts and removing them.

Again you felt horror and nausea rise inside of you as you saw what was coming towards you, and you were utterly powerless to stop it.

“Rafe!” You sobbed pathetically, grabbing at the hand that was clamped around your other wrist and scratching at him. “Please don’t do this. I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

You didn’t even see his hand fly out, but you heard the slap before you felt it. Your head whipped to the side and the ringing in your ears returned as your fight was quickly sapped from your body. Your cheek felt like it was on fire from the strength behind his ringed hand.

“I really wanted to make this special for you, Y/N.” Rafe managed between gritted teeth, his grip around your wrist tightening. “But you’re making that really difficult for me when you’re acting like such a fucking brat.”

You were still too stunned to react, your eyes squeezed shut in pain as you lay limply on the bed.

The feeling of Rafe’s hand trailing beneath your dress and between your legs set a blaze across your skin. His fingertips ghosted over the edges of your pretty, lacy panties, making you shiver.

When Rafe grabbed them and started tugging them down your legs, you snapped your legs shut in an attempt to stop him, but when he glared at you and quickly reared his arm back as if he was going to slap you again, you quickly opened them to allow him to slide your panties off.

“Take this off.” He ordered you, gesturing to your dress and you swallowed dryly, knowing that there was no way to avoid doing exactly what he wanted.

Rafe let go of your bruised wrist to allow you to remove the last barrier of clothing you had on.

His eyes hungrily raked over your now completely exposed body. He had seen you naked before the other times when he had snuck into your room, but the anticipation of what was to come made you seem even more gorgeous than before, if that was even possible.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he whispered breathlessly, but his compliment only made you feel more disgusted.

He pulled his boxers off and you looked away, too embarrassed to look at your step brother naked.

A hand clamped on your chin, turning your head and forcing you too look at him.

His cock was long and thick, and when your eyes widened at the size, Rafe chuckled.

“I’ll make it fit, Y/N/N,” he drawled, climbing between your legs again and positioning himself between them.

You tensed when you felt him rub his tip up and down your soaked slit, teasing your clit a bit and you squirmed beneath him.

Rafe looked between your legs as he slowly began sliding the tip of his cock inside of you.

“Wait, Rafe!” You whined, you hands grabbing at his shoulders to push him off.

He wordlessly grabbed your wrists, easily pinning them to the bed and using the new position to push himself deeper, stretching your cunt out more with each inch.

“Fuck,” he groaned as your tight, warm pussy squeezed around his cock.

Tears were streaming down your cheeks now as your older step brother pinned you to the bed and slowly forced himself deeper inside you.

The pressure between your legs was immense, and you had never felt so full in your life.

He bottomed out, the tip of his dick kissing your cervix, and his arms trembled slightly above you as he sucked in a shaky breath.

“God, I’m so fucking lucky my lil sis saved herself for me.”

Rafe’s words made your stomach churn, but before you could linger on them long, his lips smothered yours, and sickeningly, you realized that you recognized the feeling from the night of the party when you thought you had been kissing JJ.

You turned your head away from him to break the kiss, but his firm hand brought you back and held you in place as his lips slid over yours.

When he tilted his hips back and then slowly started push his cock back into you, you gasped into the kiss, letting his tongue to push its way into your mouth.

Rafe thrusted into you faster, picking up his pace as he finally broke the kiss and allowed you to gasp for air.

Your trembling legs wrapped around his back as you tried to steady yourself from the rocking of the bed and the feel of his length dragging along your walls.

To your embarrassment, you could feel his cock begin to slide into you easier as you grew slicker around him, but that didn’t alleviate how much he was stretching you out.

“JJ could never make you feel this good, Y/N. He doesn’t know you like I do, doesn’t know your body like I do.”

At the mention of JJ, you cried harder, tensing around him and squeezing his cock so hard he groaned.

Rafe’s lips captured yours again, hungrily kissing you as he plunged himself into you harder now.

When he pulled away, he stared into your eyes for several moments, watching your eyelids fluttering shut as you tried to keep your focus on your older step brother as his thrusts rocked your body again and again.

“Tell me you love me.”

Your cunt squeezed around him at his words, a horrible mixture of emotions flooding your body. He was one of your best friends, your older brother. You had loved him for so many years, and horribly, you still loved him right now, even as he betrayed your trust in the most violent way imaginable.

You felt so confused, not just about his actions, but now also about your body’s reaction to him forcing himself onto you.

“Y/N,” Rafe warned, his punishing thrusts bringing you back to the present. “Tell me you love me.”

“I-” you were cut off by a moan when Rafe’s fingers circled your tender clit. It was nearly impossible to think straight right now, much less form a sentence.

You swallowed, before quietly whimpering, “I love you.”

His fingers twitched against your clit, his cock was repeatedly hitting a spot that was making your head swim and vision blur. Each masterful motion of his fingers was building inside of you, pulling you closer to the brink, even though you were trying to fight the inevitable.

“I can’t fucking hear you,” Rafe growled, his pace growing downright punishing.

You were pushed over the edge suddenly, and you closed your eyes and loudly whined as you came around him. “I love you, Rafe!”

You could practically see his cocky grin as you gave him exactly what he wanted, even though your eyes were still squeezed shut as he fucked you through your orgasm.

“Fuck, baby. So tight,” Rafe groaned, still drilling into you. “Been waiting so long for this and you feel even better than I could’ve dreamed.”

Rafe’s pace stuttered and he pushed himself deep inside you, his fingertips gripping into your thighs tightly as he came, spilling his sticky cum deep inside you as you squirmed beneath him, begging him to pull out through tears.

“Rafe, please, I’m not on any birth control,” you sobbed.

He cupped your chin, roughly tugging you in to a messy kiss as he ignored your pleading.

When he finally pulled away he looked down at you dreamily, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“I really do have the best sister ever, huh?”

#rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron #rafe cameron noncon #stepbro!rafe cameron #dark!stepbro!rafe cameron #stepbro!rafe #stepbro!rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x reader #number one fan #dark!rafe cameron x reader #dark rafe cameron

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emeraldkniight · 3 months

Note

Hi this is my first time requesting! Can you write a Damian Wayne NSFW where it’s my first time meaning the family he is stressed out and needs relaxing. (But the bat fam is home for the holidays) so no noises. I hope this makes sense!! Thank you so much love your writing!!!

— 𝓣𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 ✧!! eng.

older!damian wayne x fem!reader

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀… drabble. porn with plot. smut. dirty talk, fingering, p in v.

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁. . . no copying of my work is allowed. Free translation is allowed as long as I am credited.

𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲. . . as I said in my other posts, English is not my first language. I have tried to make corrections with the translator, but as you all know, it is prone to making mistakes, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or if anything sounds weird.

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲… I'm so tired with college that I didn't even have time to proofread it properly. An apology for that ;(

For a long time, Wayne Manor was the home of several people who, as they grew up and matured, moved on to other places to perform their duties as vigilantes. As a result, the mansion has had three primary owners: Bruce and Damian Wayne, as well as Alfred Pennyworth, the mansion's butler, now considered part of the family. Meanwhile, the others came and went on the grounds of the mansion. Holidays were one of the most important times when the whole family was finally together.

When Damian explained it to you in a simple way, despite not being a member of the detective clan, you could easily deduce how stressful it would be for your poor boyfriend to have the whole family at home for a week or two; so you offered to go and keep him company. Unfortunately, you never thought he would take you up on your offer.

It was the moment you found yourself on the huge bed in his room that you realized how stressful this situation would be for Damien. His face reflected incredible discomfort as he stepped out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his hips.

You couldn't help but feel assaulted by the fleeting physical beauty that young Wayne possessed. Aside from the fact that only a towel encircled his waist, leaving the line of defined abs completely exposed, every inch of his body with such masculine features stood out when he showered...and when he was in a bad mood.

In a bad mood as it is now.

He hadn't said a word since he came out of the bathroom. He just walked over to where you were lying and moved in until he was completely on top of you, so close that you could not even move your body without running the risk of brushing an inch of his skin.

Immediately, he moved closer until his lips reached the exposed skin of your neck. You longed for his warmth, but you were still afraid that someone might hear you with so many people in the mansion.

— Damian... someone might hear us — You told him quietly as you tried to pull his lips away from your face.

— That's not a problem... — He said, admiring you with his deep green eyes. — Only if you know how to keep quiet.

The seriousness of his words sent an electric current down your spine. Your heart pounded against your chest and quickened as you felt Damian's breath on your pants and soon the sound of the zipper coming down.

Not long after that, he was so deep inside you that he had to cover your lips with his hand to keep you completely silent.

You knew it was a bad idea. You did it mostly because Damian needed it to relieve his stress, but sooner or later the pleasurable sensation deep in your stomach that prevented you from making a sound would suffocate you.

A finger slipped between your wet lips to give you some kind of incentive. He slid his thumb around your throbbing clit, leaving you stunned and breathing fast, so close to cum that even the gentle touch began to feel sensitive.

Later, he moved the hand that was silencing your sounds away from your face, but when the air hit your lungs again, he came closer and stuck his tongue deep into your mouth and gave you an embracing kiss.

— Shh, it's okay, beloved. You can do this. — He murmured, admiring you with malice reflected in his eyes.

#dc comics #dc universe #damian wayne x female reader #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne #damian wayne smut #batboys #smut

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magicalqueennightmare · 4 months

Text

The Hybrid's Little Witch

Klaus Mikaelson x Reader

Just a one shot of Klaus and his little witch giving into their feelings

Fluffy (ish) smut

“Don't you fucking turn your back on me!” You were so angry you were nearly shaking. You could feel your powers rolling just under your skin, threatening to slip out but you maintained your hold on it, telling yourself no matter the anger you held that the hybrid in front of you was indeed friend not foe.

Klaus spun to face you and a part of you was surprised to have blue eyes looking back at you. You'd expected the golden eyes of his beast to be looking back at you. “Why are you even still in New Orleans? You did your job little witch. Hayley and Hope are safe, any coven that was a threat to them have been eliminated”

“I don't answer to you Klaus and you don't own New Orleans. Hayley called me here to help protect her daughter or are you forgetting she's one third witch? She needs someone here to help with all aspects of who she is as she grows and Freya shouldn't be forced to stay in one place. I'm not leaving”

In a single heartbeat he was in front of you, hands on either side of your head effectively boxing you in if you didn't want to use your powers on him. A portion of your brain registered the fact that you had a wall at your back and a hybrid in front of you but the majority of your brain refused to cower.

He wanted anger, wanted rage, you'd give it to him. While it was true things had calmed down but after everything you knew being complacent was a mistake. He leaned down close enough that his lips nearly brushed your ear as he spoke “Her daughter? Are you forgetting that Hope is my daughter as well?”

You turned to look at him noticing how close your faces were before raising your chin defiantly to look him dead in the eye “and are you forgetting the number of times I've risked my life to ensure she was born, to ensure she stays alive and healthy? I'm owed a little slack even from you”

Damn him a smirk slipped onto his face as he said “Is that it little witch? You think I haven't shown you proper respect?” The last year came crashing down onto you at that moment, every time you'd faced a new threat, every moment you'd swallowed the pain so Hayley wouldn't know what protecting her and Hope was doing to you and every ounce of loneliness you'd felt your entire life mixed in with your anger. Anger that was now pointed at Klaus whether it was earned or not.

Your magic uncurled without you having to think about it and he stumbled back from you as if he'd been tased, hand splayed out across his chest. You felt a surge of pride mixed with a tiny bit of tension leaving your shoulders despite knowing you may very well be about to fight with the father of your best friend's child, the hybrid you were so damn attracted to yet refused to act on it.

“You haven't Klaus. I've done nothing but fight for your family since the moment I stepped foot in New Orleans. Yet you walk around like I'm a pet Hayley picked up and dragged home. I may not be as old as your family but I've seen hundreds of years pass. I could be anywhere in the world and I chose to be here. I get it, your past dealings with witches have been shit but I'm owed the respect I've earned even if you fucking hate me”

He rubbed his chest a moment and your eyes flickered towards the length of skin that showed from the unbuttoned henley, the long expanse of his neck and the curve of his collarbone distracting you. Jesus christ, the reasoning behind Hayley getting pregnant was crystal clear but you and he were hardly friends. He hated witches and that's what you were.

Another smirk slipped onto his face and he shook his head “That's where you're wrong, love. I don't hate you” you scoffed not letting your guard down but curious as well “How am I wrong?” He took a step towards you and you shook your head so he stopped, holding both hands up to say he wasn't coming any closer. “I don't hate you. Quite the opposite in fact”

You let just enough of your magic seep out to make the air in the room thicken just slightly “Cut the shit Klaus and say what you mean” he looked you up and down before running his thumb across his bottom lip “I've been trying to ignore how much I want my child's Godmother”

You felt your stomach flip “What?” He shrugged “You're beautiful, Intelligent, lovely with Hope. The fact that you're absolutely dangerous just adds to the allure. Hell if Elijah hadn't fallen for Hayley and Kol wasn't head over heels for a witch himself I'd have to fight them for your attention more so than I do as you being their friend”

“So, what baiting me into argument after argument was your form of flirting?” You zapped him again from pure frustration and he growled before moving faster than any other vampire you'd seen. He had you backed against a wall with your arms pinned over your head and was staring into your eyes “Tell me one time you don't want me as much as I want you little witch. That's all it takes”

Your chest was heaving like you'd run a marathon and you knew he could hear your heartbeat but in that moment you didn't care to be embarrassed of it. He was right, you wanted him. “And if I do want you?” You asked with a slight smile. He returned your smile before saying “Then I do this” he caught your lips in a bruising kiss, flicking his tongue against yours and swallowing the moan that the action pulled out of you.

You struggled to free your hands but his grip held tight. He pulled back to look at your eyes “Tell me what you want” you swallowed twice before saying “I want you to fuck me Klaus, hard” the smile he gave you made heat shoot straight to your stomach “Thought you'd never ask” in one fluid motion he released your hands and scooped you up into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist.

—----------

You hooked your arms around his neck and he moved from your lips down across your jaw then to the sensitive flesh of your neck. He rolled his hips against yours and a gasp left you at feeling his hardening cock through the layers of jeans between it and your sensitive core. When he bit down just below your pulse point you moaned, fingers digging into his shoulders “Bed Klaus. You're not fucking me against a door dammit”

He chuckled against your skin “See? That dominating side of you. Can't wait to have you begging underneath me” You glared at him “I swear on everything” in a blur of movement he was up on the stairs and in his bedroom kicking the door shut with his foot then putting you down on your feet but backing you against the door in the same fluid motion.

He was everywhere, lips and teeth teasing your neck and jaw, hands roaming across what of your body he could reach while his hips rutted into yours pulling low moans from you at the action. One hand slid up to wrap around your throat as his mouth claimed yours. Your hands found his chest, clawing at his shirt, begging for more access to him “Eager are we?” He teased before leaning back from you enough to pull his shirt over his head and tossed it behind him.

He reached for your shirt but stopped with his hands just shy of it. He glanced at your face for permission and the moment you nodded he pulled the shirt over your head and a grin slipped onto his face that made your knees weaken “Oh I'm going to enjoy this” another quick kiss to your lips then he moved to your neck, biting down on the spot he previously had which made you moan his name.

—----------

Instead of stopping he continued down, when he got to your still clothed breasts he reached behind you with one hand. You felt the clasp give before your bra was pulled from your body and tossed somewhere in the room. He reached for one of your breasts, teasing the nipple between his fingertips. Your breath was already coming in fast pants. It'd been a little too long since you had sex and the feelings that the hybrid was bringing out of you with so little action so far was a bit alarming.

When he lowered his mouth to the other one, your back arched off the door. He barely grazed your nipple with his teeth but you felt your legs quiver. “Love, when was the last time someone touched you? Other than your own hands?” He murmured and you closed your eyes in an attempt to slow your breathing “Before I came to New Orleans”

You half expected to see teasing in his eyes when you opened yours but instead there was a hunger there “Then I'll have to make sure you're satisfied” you weren't sure what he meant before he sank to his knees in front of you. “Klaus” you tried to find your voice but he simply tapped your left leg “Lift your foot”

—------------

Within moments your boots and jeans were off your body leaving you in just a simple pair of black lace panties. “May I?” He asked and you nodded. He slid them off your legs and smiled up at you and gods the heat that flooded throughout your body at that moment could've torched the states between Louisiana and the Atlantic.

He dropped one of your legs over his shoulders before his head dipped between your thighs. The first swipe of his tongue was tentative, testing. When your fingers burying themselves in his hair was the answer he dove in. He was like a man starved and he meant to devour you to feed the hunger.

When his teeth grazed your clit you would've collapsed had it not been for his grip on you “Oh fuck Klaus” he added two fingers in with his tongue, curling them up to add pressure to that spot deep inside of you and that was all it took to push you over that edge. The burst of pleasure made your vision go soft around the edges. He worked you through your orgasm and only let up when you begged softly “Please Klaus, too much. Too much”

He rocked back on his heels, keeping two fingers inside of you to tease at your still sensitive clit “Already begging? I thought more of you” you knew your words would fall flat considering your legs were shaking but you still felt the need to say “Fuck you Klaus”

He buried his fingers to the knuckles and you moaned loudly “I believe that's where we're headed love” he pulled his fingers out and held your gaze as he sucked them into his mouth, rolling his tongue around them “Heavenly”

—--------------

He stood and when he got to his feet he picked you up, leaving you no choice but to wrap your still shaking legs around his slim waist. He walked over to the bed and laid you down almost gingerly. You looked up and realized he was still wearing jeans “You're overdressed Mikaelson” he grinned “Then by all means, come relieve me of them”

You sat up and moved to the end of the bed, pulling him to you by the front of his jeans. You made quick work of the zipper, pushing them off his hips. He helped you kick them off along with his boots. He was left in a pair of black boxers and the way his cock was straining against the material made your mouth water. “Take what you want” he spoke and you slid your hand below the waistband of his boxers, wrapping around his hard cock.

He groaned lightly as you began to stroke him. When you pushed his boxers down to be able to lick a strip from the base of his cock up to the head, rolling your tongue around to collect the beads of precum leaking out.

You sank your mouth down on him, taking as much of him as you could. When he hit the back of your throat you twisted your tongue around him as you worked your mouth. You could feel his hips tense and knew he was trying to hold back from thrusting into your mouth. He spoke your name twice before stepping back to pull himself free of your lips.

—-------------

“Get in the bed” you scooted up to the pillows and he smiled, wrapping a hand around his cock and stroking it lazily as he took in the sight of you laid out completely bared in his bed. He licked his lips then climbed into the bed.

There was almost an animalistic quality to him, a predator finally catching his prey. He started at your hips and worked his way up your body. You knew even with your healing you'd still be littered with marks from his lips for a day or two and something stirred inside you at the thought of carrying marks from Klaus.

When he got to your mouth he caught your lips in a bruising kiss that made your fingers bury into his hair. You felt his hard cock against your inner thigh and pulled back from the kiss “Fuck me already Klaus”

His hand slipped between you and you felt the head of his cock teasing at your entrance before he sank himself inside of you. The feeling of him stretching you caused you to close your eyes tightly. Klaus wasn't exactly small. After a moment the stretch gave way to pleasure.

He peppered kisses across your jaw and chest until you opened your eyes and met his. He took that as a go ahead and pulled nearly all the way out before slamming back into you. You gasped and he grinned. “You wanted it hard little witch?”

You nodded “Please” he chuckled and rolled his hips in a tight circle, watching your face as he did so. “Quit teasing Hybrid” you warned and he nodded before setting a punishing pace.

You were so damn close to that edge and wanted nothing more than to fall over but Klaus slowed his pace forcing your eyes to fly open “What the fuck?” He shrugged “You want to come, keep your eyes on me little witch. I want to watch you fall apart”

You nodded after a moment and he resumed the pace he knew you liked and when his fingers slipped between you to rub tight circles on your clit it took everything in you to keep your eyes open “Let me feel it” you felt that pressure burst and fell over that edge, your eyes watering in an urge to close them against the pleasure rolling through you.

You could feel his hips falter slightly and knew he was close. He buried his face into your neck and you felt his fangs tease the skin there, not biting but just applying enough pressure to make you clench around him as he came burying himself deep inside of you.

—-------------

When he drew back he smirked at you before catching your lips in one final kiss before pulling out of you. He moved to lay down next to you and pulled you over on his chest. “What now?” You asked once your breathing had returned to normal “Well this by far more enjoyable than fighting”

You raised your eyes to him and laughed “Are you really proposing we start fucking regularly?” He shrugged “I want you, you apparently want me. Come on love it doesn't have to be some epic meant to be thing but this was enjoyable for us both and we have to get along for Hayley and Hope's sake”

You shook your head and started to laugh but it turned into a yawn. “Get some sleep” he urged and even though you knew you should leave you found your eyes drifting shut. You were satisfied, warm and like it or not safe in Klaus’ arms.

#klaus mikaelson x y/n #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson fic #klaus mikaelson fanfiction #klaus mikaelson smut #the originals fanfiction #tvd fanfiction

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puppetwoman17 · 4 months

Text

Okay so I love all of the cap identity reveal stories. Obviously. The anticipation of the reactions, the fact that someone they’ve known for so long, someone they’ve fought with and laughed with and cried with, is not even half their age…

But what if they NEVER found out? Cap’s identity, I mean.

I don’t mean life just continues on with Billy leading his separate lives. It’s more like(this next part is so fucking drastic lol) the league thinks cap is dead and suffer with the hole he left behind, only to somehow find out he’s alive, and to add fuel to the fire, he’s a young radio host in Fawcett.

The JL( and other heroes if you want) are fighting a being with incredibly powerful magic. I’m not good with the specifics, but it lines up with someone like Lady Blaze. The YJ team are acting as reconnaissance and backup. Everyone’s doing their part, including Cap.

But then something goes wrong. A miscalculation is all it takes for the fight to spin in the villain’s favor. Magic is a fickle thing. One wrong move, and sparks will fly with reckless abandon.

The fight is nearing an end, and it’s clear that almost all the heroes have been rendered useless. They’re either limping up to go again, or unconscious from the strain.

Everyone but Captain Marvel, that is.

To bring an end to the fight, Cap unleashes a powerful stream of magic, something no one has ever seen him pull off. It seems to zap everything out of him. The next thing you know he’s falling, his body slowly disintegrating. He makes it to the floor and smiles at the other heroes, all of whom are crying their hearts out as gold dust replaces him, for divine beings have no blood.

Billy, on the other hand, is fucking pissed. Apparently, Shazam created a failsafe in case something like this happens. He wakes up in the rock, unable to transform. His magic is still there, and with Solomon’s help he learns that his champion form will return after a couple years. For now, he needs to rest his reservoir.

Now, you’d think he would go tell the league, right?

But he’s not so little anymore, and he now knows that him being younger won’t be the only issue. Younger him was only worried about that little tidbit, but in truth, there was no guarantee they would let him stay if they knew he’d been lying so much. If he’d been able to keep his age a secret for so long, what else could he be hiding?

It’s not something he wants to do. The League, the YJ team, the Titans, they’ve all become like a family to him, despite almost all of them(barring the magic heroes) not knowing who he is. But he can’t risk being watched by parental hawks whenever he’s doing his champion work as Billy. He can’t risk them learning about his… circumstances. His crappy uncle, his annoying cousin, his(an oc I created for this post specifically but dw he’s not that important) crooked cop of a younger-older cousin. His living situation, his previous state of malnutrition, and all of his responsibilities. What a nightmare that would be, explaining all of that.

Also, he tries not to sound too cocky in his head, but he’s fairly sure at least a little less than half of the JL would kill for him. Or at least they’d beat someone to a pulp, which is still a pretty big deal.

So, he washes his hands of the JL and the sub teams and handles his champion work(bar fighting now cause his other body needs to regenerate) in his civilian form. It helps that the magic community, all sides of the spectrum, collectively decide not to tell the other heroes that their Champion is alive. They can get really annoying when it comes to their Boy Scout 🙄.

Plot, plot, plot happens. I’m thinking maybe Whiz gets an opportunity to interview JL members and they send their best reporter for the job. Or maybe something happens on the magic spectrum that brings them closer to Billy. Either way, the JL finds out Cap’s identity without Billy knowing and they are PISSED.

Billy has to deal with countless vigilantes, heroes, and teams lounging on his couch trying to goad him into revealing who he is. Either that r they follow him throughout Fawcett. Some people are angry with him, like Conner or either of the Roys. They try to make him angry. They want to see the real Cap, the real Billy(which is stupid cause of course cap isnt a fake persona but they’re too mad to realize).

Others feel betrayed, like Artemis and Wally(I refuse to acknowledge his death). Cap was a best man at the wedding and they really started to look to him as a sort of father figure. In fact, all the younger heroes love how he stood up for them and validated their feelings. To know that so much of their worries were being shouldered by someone who was years younger than them…

And the JL is worse off too. Their coworker, who they trusted and cared for, had been living alone since he was a child. Having to save for scraps until he finally got a home of his own.

The magic users are practically waiting for Billy to blow a fuse at everyone either fussing over him, attempting to make him mad, or following him whenever they felt the need. Mary’s laughing her ass off and Freddy’s smirking because now he can say “I told you so”. Shazam’s shaking his head because he told his damn protege that the champion doesn’t DO teams, but look where they are now.

Teth is honestly ecstatic. Comes to the next higher ups meeting and laughs in Billy’s face.

And Billy? Billy at least hopes he can make some money off of this: Okay but if I let you stay on my couch for the next three hours, that’s gonna cost you.

No no, I’ll let you follow me, but only if you do this one interview.

Maybe just stop trying to make me mad and just talk to me? Like I get you have issues but I already have a shit load of that so…

#billy batson #captain marvel #justice league #dc universe #shazam #identity reveal #temporary character death #magic community

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theemporium · 10 months

Note

Can’t stop thinking about going on holiday with best friend mick with the other drivers and wags bc you’re basically extended family and lots of mutual pining with everyone else seeing how oblivious you both are and trying their best to push you guys to confess. Maybe one bed trope omg I can’t

this is so fucking soft i can't even!! thank you for requesting!🖤

“So, they’re together, right?” was the most common question on everyone’s mind whenever they saw you and Mick together.

And, in their defence, it was easy to understand why. Not only with the amount of time you spent together and the lingering gazes that would follow each other around, but just in the way you acted with one another. You two were insistent that you were just friends, best friends in fact.

But best friends didn’t act the way you did.

Because how could people believe you were just friends when the second Mick would jump out of his car after a race, he was running towards you?

Because how could people believe you were just friends when he would always have a hand touching you in some way, shape or form?

Because how could people believe you were just friends when it was an undeniable fact that you two were in love with each other?

The general public and members of the paddock weren’t the only people that assumed as much. The other drivers thought the same, and if they were being completely honest, they were sick and tired of watching you two pine after each other and do nothing about it.

So, they concocted a plan.

The trip was planned by a few of the drivers during the winter break, all under the ruse to relax after the gruelling season and enjoy a week lost in the snowy mountains. Half the grid was there, most of them with their significant others and the ones that weren’t were already bunking together, so it only made sense that you and Mick had to share a room.

A room with only one bed in it.

“I mean, we’ve shared a bed before,” you said, shrugging your shoulders as you tried to remain casual.

And that much was true. You and Mick had shared a bed multiple times over the years you have been friends. It shouldn’t have been a problem, despite the lingering feelings you both held towards each other.

Except, it did become a problem when you got ready for bed, only to realise the heater in your room was broken and the Swiss Alps were very, very fucking cold.

“Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“Schatz,” the concern was clear in Mick’s voice and you could feel him shuffling around on his side of bed. You almost jumped when you felt his hand reach for yours under the duvet, only to wince. “You’re freezing.”

“Just a little,” you murmured, your teeth chattering as you did. You tried to pull the duvet tighter around you, but it was useless.

“C’mere,” he murmured, but he didn’t give you a chance to even move before his arms were wrapped around you and tugging you towards him.

Your body instantly fit against his with your legs tangled together and your hands slipping under his shirt (despite the small wince he let out, he didn’t stop you). Your face nuzzled into the crook of his neck and he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Mick?”

“Yes, schatz?”

“Your heart is beating really fast.”

There were a few beats of silence before he spoke.

“Yeah,” he murmured, clearing his throat a little. “You tend to have that reaction on me.”

You pretended like your own heart didn’t want to beat out of your chest. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he whispered.

“You make my heart beat fast as well,” you whispered and you risked lifting your head to look at him, only to find he was already staring at you.

“Can I do something?” He asked, his blue eyes searching for even a glimpse of discomfort in your face.

But you nodded and Mick couldn’t resist the urge to lean down and press his lips against yours. It was soft and hesitant, like you both knew you were crossing a line you didn’t know how to navigate. But it was still telling, it still whispered the words both of you were terrified to say.

“Mick?”

“Yes, schatz?”

“What does this mean?”

“I don’t know,” he murmured, his nose brushing against yours. “Let’s talk about it in the morning, when you’re not dying of hypothermia.”

You laughed softly and something in his chest eased as you nuzzled yourself back against him, enjoying the warmth of his body against yours.

It wasn’t until hours later, when your bodies were still tangled under the sheets and pressed up against each other, when the others peaked through the door to see the best friends in bed together.

“Told you breaking the heater would work,” Lando muttered with a grin.

“Wait, you actually did that?” Carlos muttered.

“Mate, what about the deposit?” Charles questioned.

“Shhh, I gave him permission!” Daniel waved them off, grinning. “He did it for love!”

#mick schumacher #formula one #f1 #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher x you #mick schumacher x y/n #mick schumacher fic #mick schumacher oneshot #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 one shot

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speechlessxx · 1 year

Text

new addition. [henry cavill x reader]

summary: anything henry does instantly goes viral.

warnings: mention of fangirls. plot twist?

word count: ~850

It was a poor choice of words on Henry’s behalf – and he knew that.

You knew he knew that.

Ever since you’ve met him, nearly three years ago, you’ve noticed that Henry relished in the chaos he created from just one simple post. Whether it was a clip of him working out or him panting after his jog or even a simple picture of Kal, he sent the internet into a frenzy each time he broke his silence on social media. In fact, you would say he’d get off on it – but of course, he would only respond with a amused smirk and a shake of his head.

And sometimes, just sometimes, he liked to drag you into his mess.

So, when your phone dinged once, then twice, then a million times after one afternoon, you knew Henry had done something yet again.

At first, you ignored the incessant chimes of Instagram and Twitter. The colorful purple and the calm blue icons staring up at you, tauntingly as if saying, “we know something you don’t”. But this wasn’t your first time on the Henry post rollercoaster, and you opted to just turn your phone on Do Not Disturb, silencing the annoying chimes and buzzing.

But only for a few hours … until curiosity got the better of you, and you found yourself exchanging your novel for your cell phone.

You noticed that your accounts had an influx of new followers and posts had more likes and comments than usual. The culprit for this sudden popularity was a single tagged post from your beloved boyfriend.

It was a rather strange occurrence. Henry was keen on keeping your relationship as private as his career would allow. You’ve graced his stories once or twice throughout your two year long relationship, but he had never been so outright and forthcoming on his public feed.

The photograph was nowhere near risqué – which brought a bit or relief to your anxiety. It was a photograph of you curled up on Henry’s bare chest, sleeping your fatigue away. You were covered up enough with the nearly sheer night slip and Henry’s muscled arm wrapped around you. However, it was the caption that caught your eye.

“Our new addition kept her up all night.”

Your jaw dropped and eyes widened as you read that line over and over again. That cheeky little –

There were multiple “congratulations” comments beneath the post, followed by various celebratory emojis. Of course, there was a heavy amount of jealous fans’ inputs, but you considered yourself a veteran at this point – their comments became an inherent risk the moment Henry asked you out on a date.

Speculations, articles, “Baby Cavill” trended worldwide. You couldn’t help but slap a palm onto your forehead before groaning. Despite being frustrated because you were trending for such an obscure reason, you couldn’t help but find the entire situation amusing.

You came out of your shared bedroom just as he was walking into the house. Normally, you would take the time to admire your sculpted-by-the-gods boyfriend – especially after a run or a work out – but today, you wagged a finger in his face.

“You,” you said, in a mock scolding tone, “owe the world an explanation, Mr. Cavill.” Behind Henry padded in Kal, who ran to greet you, nudging your calves with his wet nose. “Your dad has gotten me into big trouble, bear.”

The dog stared up at you with big eyes but you knew that the only thought going through the Akita’s mind was, “treat?”

Henry burst out laughing as he pulled out his phone, undoubtedly reading through the mess he’s created. He seemed almost as elated as he was when he saw the reactions to his PC building video.

“Hennn,” you whined, pouting.

Before your boyfriend could respond, a high pitched bark could be heard as your new puppy ran towards its family. Energic from his afternoon nap, the little guy jumped and pawed at you, trying to get your attention. He’d occasionally bump into Kal but the older dog didn’t pay him any mind, opting to lay down on the wooden floors, exhausted from his run with his dad.

You bent down to play with the little puppy, cooing at it and handling its tiny paws as Henry recorded.

He’d eventually post the multitude of photos and videos of you and the new puppy with the caption, “Just to clarify, we got a new puppy.” The simple caption would ease the fangirls, but the new puppy news did not stop Baby Cavill from continuing to trend.

Henry loved watching his family grow. The puppy testing Kal’s patience, but Kal proving time and time again that he is a very good boy. And you were an incredible dog mom. Going through the photos on his new post brought a smile to his face as he found himself getting lost in a day dream. He couldn’t wait to introduce an actual little one to the family (though you’d argue that the puppy was indeed your baby).

#henry cavill x reader #henry cavill #henry cavill fan fiction #rpf #real person fiction #speechlessxx

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sportswriters · 20 days

Text

you're jealous? - p. gavi

pairing: pablo gavi x female!reader | f | established relationship | wc: 1.646 | warnings: none

welcome post! “get out, pedri.”

you hear your boyfriend’s laughter echoing from the driver’s seat, pedri looks at you with a frown, but opens the front door and finally gets out. he stares at you and rolls his eyes, but even though he’s annoyed that you kicked him out of the front seat next to gavi, he kisses you cheek affectionately.

“i got here first, you know?” he complains.

you shrug, return the kiss on his cheek and get into the seat he was sitting in before, careful not to wrinkle your loose dress. it took you a while to find the right outfit and you were still a little unsure about the event. gavi is dressed in a black suit, similar to pedri’s, his hair messy, exuding the perfume you know so well.

“would you throw anyone out or is it just because it’s pedri?” your boyfriend asks.

you put on your seatbelt and lean in close enough to steal a kiss from his lips.

“it’s just because it’s pedri,” you reply, mocking.

pedri protests behind you and nips you right in the ear. you glare at him, but turn to your boyfriend in the driver’s seat. when he starts the car again, you grimace and turn to pedri.

“his he driving better than last time?”

pedri laughs.

“what was the last time?”

“oh, you know,” you moisten your lips and move a shoulder. “when he almost ran over that fan at the entrance to the stadium?”

“that was two days ago, y/n,” pedri says with a laugh.

“so the answer is no?” you whine.

“hey!” your boyfriend protests, leaving one hand on the wheel, his attention on the road and using his free hand to squeeze your thigh. “i’m listening, you know?”

you smile and squeeze his hand on your thigh, while he returns concentrating on driving and the three of you start chatting about random things — it distracts you from the nervousness of attending the event. it wasn’t anything too important, just a social thing to promote a new documentary the team has been making for the launch and all the players, their respective girlfriends and family members would be there, as well as the media outside.

nobody apart from the team and the people closest to you knew that you were gavi’s girlfriend. media exposure has always been a fear, mainly because gavi has a lot of young fans and the risk of receiving hate was huge enough for you to have agreed not to make the relationship public yet, coupled with the fact that gavi likes to keep his personal life private, despite his fame.

you were friends before everything. people still think so, although there are rumors. after gavi’s injury, the two of you became even closer and ended up confessing your feelings to each and two weeks later, he asked you to be his girlfriend.

he parks the car and three of you get out, while he hands the key to the valet. as soon as you get in, there’s a carpet that imitates a red entrance and you walk past it, quickly posing for photos and the entering the venue.

“i’m going to find the guys,” pedri announces. “i’m not really into third wheeling.”

gavi laughs, but you roll your eyes and watch the midfielder walk away to join the boys from the team. it’s a nice atmosphere, there’s soft music playing and lots of familiar people, but you feel tense. gavi notices and moves closer, placing his hand lightly on the base of your waist and you immediately feel your muscles relax. it's amazing how he had a calming effect on you.

“are you okay?” he asks you.

you take a deep breath and turn your face just enough towards him, opening a smile to soothe the wrinkle of worry that has appeared on his forehead.

“i’m fine, i promise.”

he looks at you for a moment, but you don’t want to talk about your insecurities, so you take the lead before he asks anything else.

“shall we say hello to the guys?”

he nods, leaving the subject for later. his hand is still on your waist the two of you walk through the hall, greeting acquaintances. you keep a genuine smile on your lips, acting sincere in your friendly conversations and enjoy gavi’s comments in your ear. he had a unique talent for making you feel relaxed in front of everyone like that and you heart leapt for him.

at some point, you were stopped by two girls — who looked to be about your age, both with big smiles on their faces — but you didn't know them. they must have been someone's daughters or something.

“i'm sorry to bother you,” one of them says, the one with the blonde hair, looking directly at gavi, as if you didn't even exist, even though his hand keeps holding you by the waist. “but we're both really big fans of yours, gavi. could you take a picture with us?”

you don't mind him giving attention to his fans. in fact, you make a point of putting him at ease by doing this.

“of course,” gavi replies.

the girls join in and he just moves away enough to fit through the screen of their camera, his hand still on your waist. you tried to move away, giving them space, but gavi insisted on not letting you get away from him.

“thank you, it looks amazing!” the second one says, with black hair.

“it's true, you look hot!” the blonde adds.

the sound of their laughter reaches your ears and you start to feel ridiculous for being annoyed. they're just some fans meeting an idol, their behavior tends to be a bit unusual and you try to take it in your stride.

“didn't you say he was your type, sash?” the black-haired girl asks with an annoying chuckle.

you purse your lips and force a smile onto your face, but none of them pay any attention to you. gavi doesn't say anything, he's just nice enough to remain with a polite smile on his face. you stare at him for a moment.

“broke!” the one called sash complains, but laughs and turns to gavi. “sorry about that. but you're single, right? i'd love to give you my number.”

that’s the last straw for you. jealousy starts to eat you up inside and gavi isn't saying anything, so you lock your jaw and walk away from him, feeling the need to look for a drink, anything. you leave him alone there, with the two of them boldly hitting on him, and you were right next to him. he had his hand around your waist! of course he's not single.

you snort and walk over to the bar, ordering a glass of champagne, something light. you didn't notice the moment gavi came up behind you until he appeared at your side with a confused expression.

“what was that, y/n?” he asks, confused by your sudden behavior.

you stare at him.

“what do you think that was?” you snap, a little annoyed, but he doesn't seem to understand. “you had your hand around my waist and they had the audacity to ask if you were single?!”

his expression softens and he smiles. gavi touches your arm.

“you’re jealous?” he asks, but you don't answer and turn your face to accept the glass of champagne the barman hands you. “come on, you can't make a big deal out of it.”

you take a sip of the drink and narrow your eyes in his direction, wondering if he really meant what he just said. yes, you're seething with jealousy, of course. you wouldn't react any differently to two women hitting on your boyfriend like that and you wouldn't make a scene. not in front of everyone.

so what if they don't know he's dating, since you haven't published anything? his hand on your waist should be enough of a sign that at least he was accompanied.

“really?” you squeak, one eyebrow raised. “so i can let pedri hold me the same way, since it's no big deal?”

he grimace and you know he didn't like it.

“i didn't mean it like that,” he defends himself, grumpily.

you smile, victorious.

“next time, use your voice to communicate that you're no longer single,” you warn, taking another sip.

he comes closer and puts his hand on your waist again, he kisses your exposed shoulder and you sigh at the contact.

“i think it's time to make our relationship public to avoid this kind of situation, then,” he proposes.

you stare at him, wondering if he's serious.

“are you sure?”

he lifts his face towards you and smiles, his face too close to yours. you don't even care if you're in a public place anymore.

“we'll only do this if it doesn't make you uncomfortable," he says. “but yes, i'm sure. it's time to show them that i'm yours.”

your heart races and you turn to him, happiness showing on your face. you may deal with insecurities, you may receive hate messages, but it's all worth it with him by your side. you wrap both hands around his neck.

“i love you.”

gavi smiles and kisses your lips quickly, taking the suggestion of making your relationship public as a positive response. he’ll make sure of doing this when you leave the event.

“i love you, y/n,” he declares. “but i hope that was the last time you used pedri as an example to touch you like that.”

he grimaces again and you laugh, shaking your head. the next thing you do is seal your lips to his once more, oblivious to any public gaze that might be directed at you, because there's nothing you want more at the moment than to let people know that he is yours.

#pablo gavi #pablo gavi imagines #pablo gavi scenarios #pablo gavi fluff #pablo gavi angst #football scenarios #football imagines #barcelona imagines #football drabbles #football blurbs #sportswriters ❤

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d0wnb4df0rf1cm3n · 1 year

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Still be here in the morning?

Nikolai Lantsov x F!Reader

Summary: You drive Nikolai wild. You want him to see you, to see you, but you're scared. If you give in to your desires and you let yourself fall, will he still be there in the morning?

Word Count: 2.9K

Warnings: SMUTTY SMUT, LOTS OF SMUT, lots of teasing, a lil bit of angst, and some fluff. Also the reader's nickname is Mouse - but it's not a size thing, it's an occupation thing *thumbs up emoji*

Author's Note: This started off as a smut thing but became a whole story thing so enjoy ;D

It was safe to say you drove Nikolai wild. You hardly listened to his rules, questioning your Captain in his every decision and driving him crazy with your constant bickering. You knew that you could, you were Nikolai's star crewmate and he would never risk firing you. No one was a better diplomat, marksman, or sailor - except perhaps Nikolai himself. You were a good detective too - you were the only one of his crew to have figured out his true identity.

You had teased him about it on a brief visit to West Ravka - an old family painting had given it all away.

"You'll never guess what I found, Cap." You said, waltzing into his quarters and jumping up onto his desk. He tilted his face up to you - indicating that he was listening - but kept his eyes focused on the maps laid in front of him, studying new routes out west. You were only docked in Os Kervo to collect a round of new supplies - enough to keep you afloat to Novyi Zem or even further.

"Tell me, Mouse. What have you found that is so worth sharing that you break into my quarters?" He used the affectionate nickname you had picked up since joining the crew - you were quiet, almost undetectable when need by. Of course, Nikolai knew how annoying and boisterous you could get when you were comfortable. Still, the nickname had stuck. In fact, you were almost certain that aside from Nikolai, and the twins, no one could remember your true name. It didn't matter. You had moved on from that life.

"Well, Tolya and I spent most of our afternoon in the galleries in Os Kervo-"

"-leaving Tamar to collect the supplies? Yes, I heard about that. Just because you keep us out of trouble with the law does not mean that you get to delegate all your duties to someone else. We work together, Mouse, you'd do well to remember it."

"Yes, yes, she said she was fine with it. Something about getting Tolya's poetic arse off her back for a few hours," Nikolai chuckled at that, "And anyway, the interesting thing is what I found in the galleries. You see, despite the Fold, West Ravka is still a united nation-"

"I'm aware."

"Stop interrupting me!" You swatted him with a loose piece of paper on his desk, "It's rude. You'd have thought that you had some manners - what with your pretentious nature."

"Is there a point to this, Mouse? Because I suggest you get there soon."

"Well, what I was saying was, I came across a portrait. A new one - well, sort of. It had the King - Pyotr, that is - and his wife, and their sons. Did you know that they had 2? I had simply forgotten." A cheeky grin had snuck onto your face and Nikolai was now looking directly at you. You leaned in close to his ear, "I'd say they did the younger son a disservice, wouldn't you? Your Highness?"

Nikolai moved swiftly, clamping his hand down over your mouth. "Does Tolya know?"

You move his hand off your mouth, "Of course not. I'm not one to be going around spreading rumours that are not mine to spread."

"Good. And you're going to keep it that way. Especially if you want to stay on this ship."

"Oh, Nikolai. You're not going to fire me. You won't risk having the biggest threat to your secret not on your side. I'm a diplomat - I know how intimidation works," Nikolai fixes you with a stare, "Ok, I was a diplomat, whatever. Semantics. Point is, you're not going to fire me. Your secrecy depends on it."

After that day, your teasing had increased ten-fold and Nikolai's patience with you had decreased just as much. He hardly spoke to you if he didn't have orders to give you. And it pissed you off.

To be perfectly honest, you made his blood boil. Nikolai didn't know what it was about you, but you knowing who he was had tipped him over the edge. He thought that he was untraceable - a new persona, a new look. He'd made a point to never dock in Ravka - but needs must and there was no way they'd survive a trip to Kerch. They'd been running on fumes. To be honest, the trip had gone better than expected. But of all the people to find out, it just had to be you. He stewed alone in his chambers. They were currently in Novyi Zem, planning to head further west. Ravka had no power further west than Novyi Zem, a notion which many - including you - were grateful for.

He'd never taken the time to understand what you were running from - almost everyone in his crew was running from some demon, but you had never once let slip who you were before you joined Sturmhond's crew. He knew that you were a diplomat of some kind and that you were half-Ravkan, but beyond that, you were a mystery to him. Perhaps that's what pissed him off. That you knew exactly who he was and who he had been and he knew nothing about you.

A knock came at his door. Who the fuck could that be? To his knowledge, everyone was out partying in the taverns. Who could resist a peaceful night out when you spent every other night on a ship sailing in the middle of an ocean? Nikolai could. And so could this mystery person apparently. Nikolai opened his door before the guest knock again, groaning when he caught sight of who it was. You were standing at his door - coat and boots discarded and your shirt haphazardly untied. You pushed past him and made yourself comfortable in his chair, smiling as he ran a hand over his face.

"Awhh, don't look too happy to see me, Sturmhond. Or should I say, Nikolai?" You'd taken to teasing him in the privacy of his room, where you were sure no one could hear you.

"What do you want, Mouse?"

"I just wanted to see how my dear Majesty was holding up. It has been a rough week for us all."

"Cut the bullshit. I know you're here to piss me off. Not tonight, Mouse. Please."

"Ooh. I like it when you beg. Do it again." You grinned at him. You knew you were getting under his skin.

"I said not tonight. Get out, Mouse. Go piss off some drunkard in a tavern." Nikolai said, nearly pushing you out of the door. "Maybe he can fuck the attitude out of you," he whispered under his breath.

"Make me."

"I'm sorry, what?" Nikolai said, turning around to face you again.

"I said, make me, Lantsov."

"I told you to stop fucking using that name," Nikolai growled, pushing you up against the wall, his arm pushing under your boob. You flushed pink, heat pooling in your stomach.

Nikolai grinned, "Oh, I see." He looked you up and down, scanning your figure. You could feel your underwear soak with every second of his gaze.

"What do you see, Captain? Need me to get you a spyglass. Could help you-" You were cut off by Nikolai's lips on yours. They were soft, gentle, and yet demanding at the same time. It was nice. This was nice.

"Is that what you wanted, Mouse? Attention from your Captain?" The honourific felt dirty coming from his mouth. You felt the desire to push him further - to piss him off until he gave you what you wanted. What you needed.

"Are you sure it's not what you wanted Captain? You seem to be a lot more excited by this than I am."

Nikolai nearly growled at that, attaching his lips to yours again, before slipping your belt off. He slipped his hands down to your core, feeling the wetness and smirking.

"Not as excited as me, huh?" He rubbed a circle around your clit and watched your defenses crumble. You grabbed a fistful of his jacket in your hand as your hips bucked away from him.

Nikolai lifted you up easily, depositing you on his desk, "I wanted to fuck you that day. When you hopped up on this desk and threatened me the first time. Should've done it. Should've shown you exactly who the boss is around here."

He grabbed the small knife he kept in his breast pocket off the desk and flicked it open. You gasped. Nikolai grazed the knife against the outside of your hip, slicing cleanly through your underwear. You were glad you'd taken off your stays earlier - you weren't sure if you could survive him ruining your most comfortable stays.

He placed a gentle kiss on your throat before pulling your shirt off. He gazed at you, momentarily starstruck, before latching his mouth onto your nipple. A hand came up to toy with the other, and you dissolved into a moaning mess.

He pulled away from your nipple to grin at your state. You looked at him breathlessly, grinning, "Is that all you've got, Lantsov."

His stare turned dark. He dove down and buried himself in your pussy. He licked and nipped, flicking your clit with his tongue. He played you like a well-tuned instrument. He fucked your hole with his tongue - alternating between stroking your walls with his tongue and sucking on your clit.

Your orgasm washed over you unexpectedly, sending waves of pleasure through your veins. You clamped your thighs around Nikolai's head, throwing your head back as you cried out.

Nikolai lifted his head up, eyes glinting dangerously, wetness smeared all around his lips. He looked devious. In that moment, he was not Nikolai Lantsov, spare to the Lantsov name, but Sturmhond, masterful privateer, Captain of Volkvolny. You loved him for it.

"You've caused me a lot of trouble, Mouse."

"What are you going to do about it?" You bit your lip, hiding a smirk.

He threw his coat off, carrying you towards his bed. You were lucky that no one else was on board - if they heard what was going on you'd never live it down.

Nikolai laid you on the bed, stripping his clothes off at extraordinary speed. He was quickly inside you, eliciting whimpers from you at every movement. He gave you a moment to adjust before he started to thrust. His hips snapped into you at an ungodly pace and it was all that you could do to not fall apart on his cock.

Nikolai grinned at your silence, his eyes scanning over you. Your face was blissed out, eyes rolling to the back of your head every so often. Sweat glistened on your skin, as you rocked forwards at the force of his every thrust. He couldn't help the small praises that fell from his lips as you moaned lowly.

"Look at you, so fucking beautiful under me, spread out for me like a whore. That's what you are, my beautiful little whore." You moaned at the filth dripping out of his mouth, "What's wrong, sweetheart? Have I fucked the little mouse stupid? No words left to taunt me now, huh?" You moaned softly, your mouth almost stuck in the shape of an 'O'. "Maybe I should do this more often, keep you quiet for longer." You nodded your head, head too foggy to come up with another smart-ass response.

Your second and third orgasms crashed over you in quick succession - Nikolai clamped his hand over your mouth as you screamed 'Nikolai' over and over again. He promised that next time he'd fuck that name out of your brain, before pulling out and cumming all over your chest.

You lay on his bed - dazed from the intense fucking you just received. You were surprised to find yourself alone in Nikolai's bed - he'd disappeared moments after cumming. He'd said something but you were still coming down from your last high when he moved away. You began to spiral. Of course, he was only fucking you to teach you a lesson - why else would he be interested in you? You idiot! He's the prince of fucking Ravka and the Captain of this ship. What do you have that would interest him, apart from your bratty mouth and attitude? He said it himself - the attitude pissed him off.

You were startled when something cold made contact with your chest. You looked up to find Nikolai with something in his hand - a wet washcloth, maybe? - and a sheepish grin on his face. He was still naked, his hair still tousled and his face still flushed. An involuntary beam broke out across your face. He didn't leave you after all.

Nikolai was taken by surprise at the tears that gathered on your lash line. He pulled you up into his chest when you were clean, sitting on the edge of his bed with you held tightly in his arms.

"Hey, hey, hey." He said, drawing mindless shapes on your back as tears streamed down your face, "What's wrong? Did I hurt you?" He was confused - surely, if he hurt you, you wouldn't be seeking comfort in him.

His heart slowed slightly when you shook your head, but the confusion remained.

"Talk to me, Mouse. What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

"It's stupid."

"It's not. If it matters to you, then it matters to me. Tell me, whatever it is, I'll fix it." Another wave of emotion washed over you. You climbed into his lap and he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest.

"I thought you were mad." You whispered quietly, almost hoping he wouldn't hear you and that he would let it go.

"Why would I be mad?"

"You left." You shrugged, "You left and I thought you were gone for good." He pressed a kiss to your temple and pulled your head into his chest.

"Oh, Mouse. For all your genius, you are oblivious." You looked up at him, confused. "I love you, Mouse. I always have." You shook your head, "What?"

"You're just saying that." You said, tears filling your lash line again as you tried to pull away, "You're just saying that 'cause you fucked me and you don't want me to leave." You tried to move out of his arms but he held you firmly. You hit his chest, trying to force yourself off him, but he stood his ground. Eventually, you just melted into his arms - he held you as you cried, hands stroking your hair soothingly.

You calmed down slowly, chest heaving as you tried to replenish your lungs. You stayed relaxed in his arms. He laid his head on top of yours. "Wanna tell me what that was about?"

You shook your head.

"Do you trust me?"

You nodded your head.

"Do you trust me enough to believe me when I say I love you?"

You hesitated.

"Well, we've found our problem."

"You don't love me."

"How do you know? You been inside my head? Pretty sure even Grisha can't do that." You chuckled.

"You hate me. You can't even look at me - let alone talk to me for long enough to fall in love with me."

"I can't look at you because if I start looking I'll never look away. I can't talk to you because I look like a fool every time I try and string two words together in front of you. Ask Tolya - he'll tell you how hopelessly in love with you I am. And for someone who's not interested in romance, he's a fucking hopeless romantic." His words involuntarily brought a smile onto your face.

You looked into his eyes, "You're sure you love me?"

"Honey, you drive me wild."

You nestled into his arms, and he leaned you both back onto the bed. Your head hit his pillow and suddenly you're surrounded by him. His arms wrap around you tightly, his pillow smells like him, his face is right next to yours. It's nice. Comforting.

You looked up into his face, studying his features while he slept. He was pretty - objectively. His face was long - pointy. Someone had done a terrible job of fixing his broken nose - but it seemed off at a second glance. He seemed so different than the paintings in the gallery - more difference than age alone could bring. His eyes were the giveaway - they were muddy green at first glance but under the right light and if you stared long enough, they were the same hazel green as the ones in the painting. You reached up to stroke his face. How long would this all last? How long until he wouldn't be able to play pretend anymore? How long until he had to go back to being Prince Nikolai Lantsov of Ravka? How long did you have with him in this beautiful bubble that you had created? You could already hear the rest of the crew filtering in from their nights out.

A hand came up to wrap around yours, "Sleep, Mouse. I'll still be here in the morning."

You smiled. He'd still be here in the morning.

fin.

#grishaverse #nikolai lantsov #netflix shadow and bone #nikolai lantsov fluff #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov being kind #nikolai lantsov fanfic #nikolai lantsov imagines #nikolai lantsov my beloved #nikolai lantsov x you #no y/n #shadow and bone #shadow and bone fanfic #nikolai x reader #siege and storm #nikolai lantsov imagine #shadow and bone x reader

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buckybarnesb-tch · 8 months

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The Lost Boys Sexy Mate Headcanon

David:

•He is the hardest to get to know in the group, the most closed off despite the fact that he talks to people the most as the ‘Leader’ of the group

•David is a Dom if ever there was one, he needs to be in control at all times

•He would never let anyone know it but he craves his mates attention desperately, and if you make the mistake of pulling away from him before he’s ready for you to move you will regret it

•He doesn’t always have to be touching you like some of his brothers with their mate but he does always need to be able to see you. If he looks back from scoping out the packs next meal and can’t immediately see you then he is instantly ready to slaughter whoever has stolen you from him!

•David loves blindfolding you when you play together. The trust you give him makes him the happiest vampire in the world, the faith that you have in him to not know whether he is going to run a feather over your flesh or his own fangs is incredibly arousing to him

•He’s a bit too controlling for you in the beginning but you adapt to it quickly, moving into the cave with your mate about a week after meeting him and turning that next weekend as David wasn’t okay with allowing his precious mate to be at risk a moment longer than she had to and you were completely fine with that

Dwayne:

•Dwayne is quite a bit like David when it comes to his mate, he doesn’t always have to be touching you but he does always have to see you however he finds the need to touch you quickly growing on him as you take to hanging off of him most of the time

•He shocked you when you found out how much of a cuddler he was when you’re alone or in the cave, his brothers sometimes like to tease him for how ‘clingy’ he is when you’re snuggled up on the couch but you just flip them off and run your fingers through his hair. He loves laying his head on your chest and wrapping his arms around your waist, holding you as firmly as he could…honestly he just loves laying his face between your breasts

•He wasn’t a fan of toys until he caught you with your vibrator one night and from then on his favorite thing was taking you apart with it before stretching you out on his cock until you’re a boneless puddle unable to move

•Dwayne isn’t very jealous but it doesn’t mean he’s not possessive as fuck, he knows you would never be unfaithful but he believes only he should ever be allowed to touch you

•He quickly took to taking pictures of you. He ‘bought’ a Polaroid so that he could take pictures of you any time you were doing something he thought was ‘cute’ which was all the time. Dwayne knew that once you turned he would never be able to take pictures of you again so he wanted all he could get now. He convinced you to allow him to take some sexy pictures of you as well, he has many of you under him with your hair over the pillows and your breasts either in a lacy bra or exposed for his pleasure. His favorite picture however was an image of you in a black lacy bra and panty set, straddling his bike on the cliff by their cave at sunset that he carry’s in his wallet everywhere he goes

•2 weeks was all it took for him to get you to come and live with him in the cave, drinking his blood that very same night and joining their eternal family

Marko:

•Marko often pulls you as close as he can, loving it when you wrapped yourself around him like a spider monkey

•He is a very jealous mate, glaring at every male that so much as looked at you sideways and often getting into fights on the boardwalk with Surf Nazis as well as just normal tourists, once even punching a 12 year old boy in the nose for looking at your ass

•One thing that Marko loves is fucking outside, and he loves fucking you in the rain. It started as something you did to be out of the cave so his brothers couldn’t bother or tease you, and it was one of his favorite memories, pinning you to the tree, your clothes soaking through and heavy as he brushed your drenched hair out of your face and saw your cute little smile, pulling you into a passionate kiss and spending the next hour and a half playing with you in the storm as the waves crashed so loudly you could barely hear each other

•Marko shocked you a bit by not allowing his brothers to touch you at all for quite some time after you got together. He knew they wouldn’t hurt you but he was so possessive and protective of you that he didn’t like the idea of anyone but him touching a single inch of you

•It was on your 1 month anniversary that you moved into the cave and you lived there with him for several months before turning and joining the pack, Marko not being as pushy for you to turn and wanting you to experience all your human things before turning so you wouldn’t regret it

Paul:

•Paul had his hands on you 110% of the time, constantly needing skin on skin contact with you whenever possible

•He was the most touchy and attentive of the vampires, and while he’s always been flirty and a bit of a man-whore, that completely changed when he found his mate

•Paul loves finding new ways to pleasure you, and tease you as well, which is why he was always open to trying new things. His favorite thing that he has discovered with you is your fluffy tail plug which he got you matching ears for to be his little pet

•Paul doesn’t mind fucking you in front of his brothers. He actively tries to cover you as much as he can from their sight but for the most part he would rather put up with them being in the room rather than not touch you at all

•You found out quickly in the relationship that he had never gone down on a girl before when he admitted it to you, desperate to have you wrap your legs around his head but not wanting to hurt you. You thought he was sweet, and honestly his embarrassment was adorable. He had never had a real committed relationship before (only fucking girls before feeding on them and never having a relationship before being turned at 18 by David and Marko) and now that he did he wanted to give you everything and make you scream like a good boyfriend is supposed to (and not how he normally makes women scream)

•He ended up being extremely good with his mouth and eating his mate out became one of his all time favorite things to do to you, loving the way your legs shook around his head and you soaked his face

•Paul was a fantastic mate and after moving into the cave a few weeks into your relationship you offered to turn so that you could be with him forever and Paul was beyond happy about it as he had tried so hard not to pressure you into becoming a vampire for him but he knew as you drank his blood that night that you had the rest of eternity together

Lost Boys Masterlist

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rcksmith · 29 days

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Brick by Brick - Kaz Brekker

Requests: “Heyy, I wanted to request a Kaz Brekker x reader fic where y/n is Pekka Rollins' innocent and naive daughter, and she stumbles across Kaz when he breaks into Pekka's house. Kaz tells her to stay quiet and stuff and y/n obviously has no idea who Kaz is, only that he's handsome as fuck and she kinda falls in love with him despite the fact that he's literally robbing her father

Love, anon :3

P.S. I love your writing.”

Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing.

Word count: 2k

A/N: Thank you very much for your kindness and sorry for the delay. I love you. My loves, requests are open and I am banning Kaz's smut request rules. U can ask for anything in the original universe, without being in a UA. I hope you like💕 English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

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

Ketterdam was not a good place. It wasn't safe, it wasn't pretty, it wasn't healthy. Every dark corner, every ghostly street, every edge whispering curses, was fulfilled the entire list of unholy sins and harbored monsters as horrible as the harbor rats on the coast. If the soil in that place was cursed, the people were demons.

Pekka Rollin’s knew this like he knew how to count kruger. He was one of those monsters. He taught profanity and stained the ground on which his feet walked with innocent blood. Pekka destroyed homes, hopes, kicked people's dreams and hit each one soul with his staff of damnation.

Each one.

Because of it that he kept his daughter under lock and key from the ugly world, far from that wretched city that he himself helped build the horrors and desolations. Maybe it was out of love, maybe it was out of sensitivity. Or maybe it was because you were the only healthy and intelligent heiress capable of leading his empire one day. You represent too many precious things for him to risk losing control over you. Maybe Pekka would never be able to love anything or anyone other than his own greed.

Whatever it was, he covered your eyes to Ketterdam. He decorated the blood-stained walls with sparkling pink and said to you that the smoke that covered the tops of Ketterdam's houses at night was Aladdin's magical fog, which pointed the way to a cave full of treasures, and not that it was the incinerated bodies of his enemies, nosy people and families who starved to death on their land. Pekka deceived you with pretty tales that the big mansion you lived in was because he would always give you the best, and not that it was bought with money stolen from honest people and that he liked to see in material forms the extent of his capabilities of evil. Like a trophy.

Rollin’s wove the ties around your limbs like a cursed puppet, and pulled your strings according to his unscrupulous interests of greed. For all of Ketterdam, Pekka was a demon of the worst kind. But for you, he was a bearded, loving father who made you see magic and romance in every corner of that city condemned by God.

The worst types of monsters were those who tricked and manipulated their children like pawns in a game of chess. But, again, perhaps Pekka wasn't capable of loving anything other than his own greed. And, if the price for having an heir who agreed, trusted him for the rest of the life, who would follow in his footsteps and obey all his order, was to make you believe in his goodness, in the beauty of a life with him only to implant wonderful - and illusory - memories in your childhood, so be it. After all, you were a girl, and in his view, girls were sentimental. So how would you go against him in the future, or not act according to his orders or not run his business as he wanted when he was too old, if you only had memories of him being an excellent and loving father? You will feel so guilty! You would fall under the weight of your own mind's arguments that everything he once did was to protect and give you the best, so your only obligation would be to be a good girl and return the favor by obeying your father's orders.

Loyalty.

Maybe, if you were someone else and this was a different story, you would have realized the hoax at 16 years old. Maybe you would have born with a strong, inquisitive and responsive personality. Maybe you would have developed that spark and fire that wouldn't let you lower your head to any man, that would make you stamp your foot on the ground, lift your chin with petulance and unravel the mysteries of that dark empire alone and take justice into your own hands.

But this was no different story. And you were just you.

You were born with a sweet aura and gentle personality. You liked butterflies and flowers since birth because their color and beauty attracted you and made you smile. Your romantic nature was not only accepted by your father, but encouraged and recharged every day - for his dark game.

For 19 years you lived in the theatrical farce that Pekka created with monstrous hands, believing and agreeing with every story in your bubble. But the blame can never fall on the shoulders of the pure in heart, who blindly believed in words and stories just because it didn't have a single wave of malice or disbelief in the veins. One should never condemn the soul that was born naturally sweet and destined to be the breath of light that such a terrible world as Ketterdam needed.

You believed in love, fairy tales and pure honesty, and that was not a defect. The Herculean guilt should fall on the shoulders of the devil who abused the innocence of a girl for his greedy benefit.

In your perfect world manipulated and distorted by the unscrupulous Pekka, you blossomed like a dazzling lily in the middle of Plato's allegory of The Cave. You acted with honesty, patience and affection towards everyone who crossed your path: employees, cooks, gardeners, bakers, painters, stylists, delivery people, friends of your father.

You were, genuinely, a kind soul. Your interests were related to literature, cooking and painting, your heart vibrated with the sunset, with the first snowflake falling to the ground and how twilight seemed even more stunning in books when they portrayed a couple in love beneath it.

You always saw the poetic, lyrical, angelic side of life, with the eyes of an artist and a passionate soul, smelling mystery and romance in the air when others only smelled wet grass because of the rain.

And being like that was, perhaps, the reason for your downfall.

It was three o'clock in the morning on a Friday the thirteenth. A combination so full of superticities, curses, fears and prague. While some saw that day and time as a condemned and satanic sign, you saw it as something mystical, mysterious and enigmatic. And maybe that was your mistake. Maybe you should be careful about the things you think, the things you wish. Maybe three in the morning on a Friday really was the devil's time. Because as you crossed the hallway of the mansion's library, unable to sleep, you saw him.

Dressed in black like the darkness outside. Skin as white as the moon's glow. Hair personified as a raven's feathers. He seemed to belong to the mysteries and occultism of the world as sin belonged to hell. The huge Victorian window behind illuminated him like an apparition, a mirage, a nightmare…an erotic dream. Or like a demon.

You should have screamed. You should have ran away. You should have done something other than get stuck in that same place, anything other than feeling inside you squirms and something sinks into your belly like warm honey.

His eyes, as blue as the deadly waters of icy Fjerda, were fixed on you with as much intensity as the dangers of Shadow Fold. For a split second, a human emotion passed through those irises; surprise?

An inattentive observer would not have noticed such a tiny sign, but you lived 19 years analyzing every detail of life.

Would a demon have such a mundane emotion?

“Who are you?” Your voice came out like a breath in winter.

Your concentration should have been on your dad book under that man's arm, but it wasn't.

A single thick, black eyebrow of his was arched, and only there were you able to run your eyes over the details of his appearance.

“Do you always ask questions for thieves?” His voice was like the scratching of sand on a stone, like a withered willow branch brushing against human skin.

That man, in his entirety, seemed to have come out of the dark romance books that you read hidden in your room in the early hours of the morning. You should have focused on the fact that he just called himself a thief, not the way your soul seemed to be shivering because of his voice.

“Or you´re just stupid?” the thief continued.

Kaz never made decisions based on fear. Only in despair.

His analytical mind rewound every step of the years he spent investigating Pekka Rollin's; every detail, every day, every season, every strand of gray that appeared in Pekka's red hair. Where had Kaz gone wrong? Pekka had no children. And Kaz made no mistakes. Never. But the girl in front of him, too curious for her own good and common sense, had too similar traits to Pekka to be anything other than his daughter.

Desperation hit.

This made EVERYTHING infinitely more Herculaneum. Your existence meant that Pekka had many more secrets than the Kaz discovered in their constant meticulous investigation. You were a loophole, and that meant there could be others. Loopholes that Kaz had no idea about. Kaz Brekker felt naked, even though he was covered from toes to neck. Being without clothes wouldn't have bothered him any more than the damn fact that he hadn't come up with the perfect plan. He failed. And that disturbed him deeply.

Suddenly, that library seemed sneaky and questionable, even though Brekker had studied the layout of the mansion for months.

How the fuck did he didn't have the knowledge about that girl?!

A daughter meant many things. But being caught by his daughter created a LOT of problems. Problems involving Kaz Brekker on a gallows.

Fucking hell.

The Barril's bastard waited for a scream, for an accusation, waited for the guards to be alerted at any moment and…the silence was sepulcher. A silence so solemn that he heard the sound of his own blood running through his veins. None of his muscles relaxed, but the part of his brain that worked in despair was activated.

Or he could kill you. But a body would add an extreme problem and…

‘’Who are you?’’ Your voice was so feminine that for a second Kaz thought he had fallen backwards and landed in a bed of roses.

Which was bullshit. Because he never falls. And he had never touched a rose in his entire life

Were you really talking to the man who was robbing your house?! Where was your instinct?! Your common sense?! Your discernment?! And where, by the damned Saints, were you all these years?

“…you don’t look like a thief’ That voice again. That damn voice that made him think of roses he never touched.

Why didn't you shut up and run away?

“Have you seen enough thieves to know one?” Normally Kaz had higher control, but he couldn't hold back his whip tongue, which seemed somehow wanting to hurt you the same way he was being hurt.

That atypical creature blushed. You blushed! For the love of the saints! Who blushes face to face with imminent danger?! Were you stupid or just terribly naive?! And why did that sweet blush remind him once again of a rose?

Bloody hell, where have you been all these years?! Why didn't anyone tell him about you?!

“No’’ you replied like a little animal being caught biting the sofa “but common thieves wouldn’t have that much intelligence to be able to bypass the security of this entire mansion’’

You had a point. But why were you worried about arguing with a damn thief instead of running away?

“That's yet another reason why you should keep your mouth shut about what you're seeing here.” His voice dropped to deeper, more threatening tones. “Bypass security is not as difficult for me, just like hiding a body''

That should have scared you. It made you scared; but with less than it really should. He was threatening you with death, his voice as cold and hoarse as a grim reaper, his eyes as serious as prophecies of the apocalypse. So why you could only think that this about him was overwhelmingly enthralling?

Maybe it was because there was a lack of excitement in your life, maybe it was because you've read a lot of erotic books about mysterious men entering the towers at night and taking the girl away, or maybe it was because Pekka deprived you of the world so much that he left you unaware of the true gravitas of situations. Whatever it was, there was something that grounded you like the roots of ancient trees, something that made you want to look at that thief more closely. Perhaps you liked the danger... That nameless man represented a large part of all the danger of Ketterdam that was so diligently hidden from you for 19 years. He represented death. But he also represented the new, the mystery, the unknown. And you, romantic by nature, loved the occult and its secrets. That man came from a world of shadows, mists, risks, deaths. Where every night was full of adrenaline and every second was a fight to stay alive. He smelled like the ghostly five a.m. fog that you watched envelop the mansion every winter, that made your heart clench with the feeling that there was so much more to the world than you knew. Very quickly, Kaz - even though you didn't know his name yet - became everything you'd always wanted to know, but had always been deprived of.

Once again, you weren't a different person to know about Pekka's disgusting game, but you were romantic enough to feel your soul begging for adventure. Even if these adventures meant ruin. A downfall.

Did it only take one handsome, mistery man for you to throw all your comfort in life out the window and want to ruin yourself with him? Want to get lost with him? The same stranger who just threatened to kill you? Apparently, yes.

You took a step into the library, and Kaz stood firm on the ground, his blue eyes boring into yours like a shining knife. Brekker thought you were extremely naive. Who knew that damn Pekka Rollin's daughter would be so pure? He would bet the Crow Club on the certainty that, if Pekka saw you now, he would have a heart attack. The monster sure had kept you in a little pink bubble your entire life, given that you seemed to not have a single ounce of survival instinct left in you. And how would you have? You certainly didn't know what pain, loss, hunger, cruelty were. This was comical and irritating to Brekker. You were a daddy's little girl. But it was in these waters of thought that his ship hit one fact: you must be very valuable to Pekka. Because otherwise that idiot wouldn't have made so many efforts to hide you from the entire world. To hide the wrong eyes from you. Eyes like Kaz's.

A shiver ran through Brekker's body; a damn good chill, a note of music he'd been waiting to hear his whole life. Revenge.

Brick by brick.

Oh, how ironic fate was. The boy who lost everything at Pekka's hands, was face to face with what was everything for the man. Like a breaking violin string, you have become the most valuable item in all of Ketterdam to be stolen. The most valuable item for Kaz Brekker.

The corner of his mouth turned up, as if pulled by the devil's rope as he set the book down again. He had something else to take away.

Kaz advanced towards yoou. And suddenly, as fast as lightning that cuts through the darkness, everything in your vision turned black and you fell into the abyss of unconsciousness as something pressed against your nose and mouth.

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nightylantern · 2 months

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Gallagher x Reader; The Devil in Disguise

Pairings; Reader x Gallagher

Warnings; HUGE SPOILERS FOR THE 2.1 QUEST, also this isn’t canon, in other words the way they implied stuff at the end may be there to throw us off, this is a “what if”, if what was implied is true. Death mention, secrets, suspicions, already established relationship between the two

Creek

You glanced up to see a slightly tired Gallagher enter the room, noticing he looked slightly disheveled, on top of that he was a bit late.

“Gallagher? Are you okay, why are you so messy, didn’t you say you were having a meeting in regards to your job?” You headed over to him to help remove his vest and accessories, suddenly he grabbed your hand a bit frantically but nonetheless gave you a smile,

“I’m fine hon, just a bit of trouble on the way here, some hooligans on the streets were a bit to drunk,” he chuckled, and once again smiled, except it didn’t reach his eyes.

You knew something was up for a few days now, despite the fact that he kept his calm demeanour and relaxed behaviour, you knew something was up, and well it made sense. He explained to you that “Death” was among the dreamers and that a stowaway and the famous singer Robin, had been killed, thus he asked if you could simply stay inside. You knew he was working off the clock to figure out who could be behind it, but even so there was something…off…

You have known him for years now. How he approached you on the streets complementing you and serving you a drink, he wasn’t a bartender then, but he was exceptionally good. You eventually figured out his ties to the bloodhound family, which you didn’t mind but you found it odd how many of his coworkers never recognised him, to which he told you he simply did most of the work in the shadows.

Even with your suspicions you chalked it up to him being exhausted and him trying to prevent “Death” from taking any more people, so you simply kissed his cheek and told him you would prepare dinner, as well as the fact that he should go shower, to which he said he would as he headed for the bathroom.

Once he was in he closed the door and sighed. “Almost got caught,” he thought as he looked down at the inside of his vest and gloves, covered in the goo. He used them to cover up the remains of Sunday but he was also careful you wouldn’t find any of it on him and question him. He sighed again upon thinking of the events that had occurred before.

So what if he killed two prominent members of the family? The family, the supposed family that was open to peace and harmony, the family that had took away so much from many, the family that outed Mikhail as a traitor…Mikhail.

He would be lying to say he was doing all of this solely for Mikhail, but that didn’t mean that wasn’t one of his motives. Guilt eventually came at him for betraying his old companion, and then anger seeped in when figuring out that the family wasn’t all so innocent either. Naturally before he could strike he needed a good alias, and that’s where you came in.

He knew once a killer was a front, people would be less likely to suspect someone who not only was high in terms of security but also someone who had a lover, after all why risk their lover’s security when he planned to kill right? He knew you were the right one when meeting you, he complimented your looks to start small talk, not that he didn’t think you weren’t pretty, you were gorgeous. Then he kept meeting up with you and eventually you agreed to be his lover. At first everything was going according to plan, at least that’s what he thought.

He was using you from the beginning and yet, he grew fond of you, he truly cared about you and knew what he was doing could put you at risk, yet he was to far in deep to turn around and prioritised his plan above all. He wanted to break things off to protect you but at the same time, he couldn’t do it, and he didn’t know why.

He knew he wasn’t a good person, and knew you would be better off if you both were not together, but still. He didn’t know if it was love or simply respect, or anything in between but he truly did want to stay with you.

But it’s fine, all he has to do is to carry out the remaining tasks and finish his plan while also protecting you, and continue being a “minion”, of the enigmata without you knowing. All he has to do was continue to keep up his facade without any suspicion, all he ha-

“Gallagher, honey?” Your voice interrupted his inner monologue, wow he was actually getting into this anti hero role wasn’t he? “Are you okay? Do you need me to come in? You’ve been in there for a while and I didn’t hear any shower, just some mumbling…”

“Don’t worry! I was just zoning out, I’ll be out in a moment love, just give me some time,” he replied almost immediately. After hearing your footsteps leave he cleaned what he could of his clothing and took a nice shower before changing and coming outside to you setting the food on the table. “It’s fine, it will be over soon,” he thought as he headed to the table. Even if it ends with deception, he just needs to be secretive just a tad bit longer and everything will be okay…

“A complete Gallagher,” he recalled Sundays words, yes, he would just have to continue on and be nothing but a Gallagher to his “beloved,” if not for your sake, then for his own.

Once again nothing is canon, just my personal interpretation of him and his lover at the end of the quests, I hope you enjoyed this fic!

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agendabymooner · 10 months

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of long lines and names || cl16 fic

charles leclerc x ofc (hearth sister!ofc)

Summary: Aimee Yael and Charles Leclerc are too young to have five kids under six, but those boys became the life and memories that the couple wanted to keep forever. OR a series of scenarios during Aimee’s pregnancies that Charles remembered the most.

Content warning: Pregnancies with twins/five kids, dad!Charles and the grid uncles, based on Charles’ long name, a crying Charles, mentions of Anthoine Hubert, Niki Lauda, Jules Bianchi and the Leclerc dad (nothing too graphic nor personal, mostly based on their names only), loss/grief, Toto being a d-bag for a moment, possible use of explicit language, family-centric/dad!Charles-centric content, mentions of other Hearth sisters children (Lewis Hamilton and Max Verstappen)

Note: This will be a flop but I love these fictional Hearth-Leclerc kids. I love all of their kids! In fact, I have a series of spreadsheets dedicated to the Hearth sisters, and other characters and the names of their babies. Enjoy xx

masterlist

2024 — Hervé Louis Sebastien René Mathieu and Jules Lorenzo Blaise Pascal Timothé Leclerc

Aimee Yael Edmunson (Hearth) had never been stressed before. She had no reason to be. As a woman from a wealthy family — the granddaughter of Scottish billionaires and a daughter of an FIA executive — she had no reason to stress over the little things that were in the area of her control. Like her half-sisters, she had the money and intelligence to handle things well.

All except for the two little things in her womb that were continuously developing as the fourth month of her pregnancy went on. It was hard to hide it from everyone if you were to ask her. She had already spoken to her mother about carrying this amount of children in one go— Amara Louise Edmunson had only given birth to one child, and it was her. Nobody knew the struggle, but her mother had comforted her as much as she could.

Aimee was calm despite the disaster that happened to be an unplanned pregnancy, her rational mind thinking that she shouldn’t be in some form of distress or discomfort to avoid any complications in her body.

Her boyfriend, Charles Leclerc, thought otherwise.

When her body hit the ninth-week mark, there was already a tiny bump that someone might have seen as bloated. A natural one, no? But Charles was known to overthink things, and when he somehow got his prediction right, he had never cried so hard about having not only one— but two kids. He cried as if he was the one with the uncontrollable hormones. Aimee watched him cry empathetically, feeling grateful that she didn’t have this much anxiety that could risk her health and her babies. Still, she wondered if the tears he shredded were tears of joy or something else.

Charles said he was happy, but at the same time, he thought of how their families would react— minus Pascale, Blanche and Amara.

When her body hit the seventeenth-week mark, they couldn’t hide it from their families any longer, hosting a dinner at their home in Monaco where Aimee did all of the cooking. Everything she made were cravings that became stronger as her first few weeks of pregnancy went on—rice, pasta and somehow a good selection of desserts and pastries that Charles ordered before the dinner.

Welcoming each family member into the house wasn’t the most significant part of the dinner. The maternal figures of Charles and Aimee’s lives — Pascale, Amara and Blanche Ford — were on standby just in case someone decided to act differently towards the two.

Stevie and Lewis Hamilton were clearly (too obviously) shocked at the protrusion in Aimee’s stomach but hadn’t made any comment on it for a while. They merely spoke about their daughter Lottie, who would cuddle with Roscoe whenever her little crawling body approached him. They were talking about their child, all while their eyes peered down on Aimee’s growing body.

Sylvie and her fiancé Max Verstappen were surprised. Still, the model had managed to pass off her shock as excitement over the invitation to the couple’s new home before she tried to maneuver through the huge bump in the road— or rather, in Aimee’s body. Max tried asking Pascale and Amara about it by mouthing, “Is she actually?” only to receive a glare from them. Blanche scolded him quietly to keep it shut while she served him a drink.

Charles dreaded inviting his brothers into his new home because they always picked their timing. When Arthur and Lorenzo Leclerc saw Aimee’s bulging figure, they immediately turned away and snorted aloud. Charles wasn’t this anxious about anything as exciting as this, but Arthur’s offhanded comment, “I’ll be attending your funeral when Toto finds out,” definitely had him recoiling. Pascale had to smack both her other children for scaring Charles off. Aimee nearly cried on the spot when Arthur made the joke, to which Charles returned to his composure and glared at his youngest brother for making her feel so shitty.

The mentioned man and his wife were met at the front by the three maternal figures. Toto Wolff wasn’t typically this intimidated. He was usually level-headed, but how they stared at him while they welcomed the couple left him asking what was happening. Tilly seemed to sense some sort of protectiveness towards whatever it was, and when she had gotten a glimpse of it, her eyes sparkled at the sight of Charles’ hand over her little sister’s stomach. She wordlessly grinned before tugging her husband down on a seat right across the two.

Toto couldn’t say a word if he were being truthful. The moment his eyes settled on the bulging stomach, his glare toward the Monegasque driver hardened. This was Toto’s nightmare, but it wasn’t as if he could just say that in front of the most overprotective women to have existed. So he threatened Charles wordlessly, passing words back and forth with other people while he glared at the Ferrari driver whenever he piped up.

“So…” Toto started after finishing what seemed to be his second wine of the night. “Aimee, you’re pregnant. How long?”

“Uh,” Aimee shifted uncomfortably, scared even to look Toto in the eyes. “Seven- seventeen weeks.”

“She’s seventeen weeks and four days—“ Charles was thrilled. He was. But the stare that Toto gave him immediately had his mouth shut as he looked back and only settled to hold his girlfriend’s hands underneath the table. “Four days,” he murmured to himself.

“So explain how,” Lorenzo started but had given up halfway through, gesturing at Aimee’s stomach, “how has she grown this much if she’s only that much?”

“Yeah, about that,” Charles’ grin widened continuously as he announced, “We’re having twins.”

Aimee and Charles’ siblings were cheering for the couple as a series of hollering escaped their mouths. Pascale, Blanche and Amara were grinning from ear to ear while Toto… he was a man that was hard to please.

“Two?” Toto uttered, already pouring himself another glass of cabernet sauvignon. “And you two are… getting married?”

“What?” Arthur blurted out with an incredulous look, shooting in Toto’s direction. Sylvie and Stevie looked at each other, asking themselves, ‘what the fuck is he on?’

“Uh no,” Charles nervously laughed, but no one seemed to understand the memo when Toto glared at him as the Monegasque muttered, “but I suppose this is a wrong answer to say aloud.”

“We’re not going to get hitched,” Aimee laughed in confusion, “why do we have to?”

“Because you’re pregnant?”

“Do we have to get married?” Aimee looked at Tilly for some help.

Tilly, sensing the discomfort from the pregnant woman, reached to pinch her husband in his side, eliciting a groan from him as she glared, “No, you don’t have to.”

“Yeah, you don’t,” Sylvie glared at Toto. “Tils and Toto didn’t get married until Tia came along.”

“So, you’re just going to be waiting for the fourth child to be out until you marry?” Arthur asked bluntly, leaving him to cower when Stevie, Lorenzo and Sylvie shot him a look of annoyance. “Oh mon dieu, je pose juste une question.” Oh my god, I’m just asking a question.

Toto wasn’t sold at the thought of his youngest in-law being pregnant with another driver’s children. He’d seen Stevie get married off to his own driver, Lewis, and it still never sat right with him to witness them being married or having a family with some men. Charles could agree on the same thing, because if his hypothetical daughter was to be courted and even have a boyfriend he wasn’t sure how he would act either.

He didn’t think that he would have the same problem with vice versa until he found out that Aimee was carrying two boys. He wondered how to prevent them from having girlfriends or boyfriends at an early age because he was certain that Aimee would just play mother of the groom on the pretend wedding that the boys would have at a young age.

But his worries withered away when he held Hervé and Jules for the first time. He could still remember realizing how strong they were from the grip they had on his fingers. He could still remember the sight of Aimee crying after she introduced them to their father— not wanting to see Charles cry again due to the tribute that she had given to Charles’ family that passed years ago.

Perhaps it was a good idea that she did the crying this time; she deserved it after watching him have a breakdown over the little things that he didn’t need to worry about — and Charles needed to have the backbone for thinking himself as a shitty father for his unborn children.

“What’re their names?” Esteban almost laughed after seeing Charles stare at Pierre mindlessly. It really wasn’t a good idea for Gasly to have Charles repeat the babies’ names all over again especially when the Monegasque was way too tired for his friends’ bullshit.

Mick kicked Pierre lightly with a hush, rocking the baby in his arms as he quietly asked, “Do you not listen or do you just live to piss your best friend off?”

Charles glared at Pierre, whose smile stood out as he giggled. Scoffing quietly, Charles gestured to the boy in his arm, “Jules Lorenzo Blaise Pascal Timothé.”

Then he nudged his head at Mick’s direction before he introduced the other twin, “and the boy in Mick’s hold is Hervé Louis Sebastien René Mathieu.”

“Sorry, I didn’t listen, Shal can you—“

“Oh my fucking god. Shut the fuck up, Pierre.”

“I’m kidding,” Pierre snorted as he quietly cackled. “What do you call them though?”

2026 — Sacha Niki Pierre Philippe Leclerc

Torger Wolff promised that he wasn’t going to squash Charles Leclerc’s head until it popped once that Hervé and Jules Leclerc were born.

He loved his nephews after all and spoiled them as much as their Uncle Toto could. He made sure the boys had their bunk beds prepared at the Wolff home in Monaco or England just in case they came for a sleepover with his son Adelmo and his niece Lottie Hamilton — who were just about the same age as the twins. He spoiled them equally.

But god, was he ever ready to get rid of their Da the moment he received a text from the Monegasque with the words, “She’s pregnant.”

“Morning, Sainz, is your stupid teammate in the office?” Toto didn’t even listen to the Spanish man’s answer as he continued to make his way to Fred Vasseur’s in-site office at the Scuderia Ferrari area. “Charles Leclerc! I’ve warned you once—“

The Ferrari team principal turned to look at the entryway of his office with a scowl, crossing his arms in annoyance. Toto wasn’t even in his team’s area and he was still acting like he shouldn’t have to knock at the damn door. The man that he was addressing, however, was teary eyed when he turned to look at Toto.

“Is this your third or fourth?” Toto asked, still glaring at the Monegasque.

“Third,” Charles wanted to smile but the last thing he wanted to do was die in this damn motorhome. In the hands of Toto Wolff, of all people.

“And no ring?” Toto then found him holding whatever in his hand, peering down as his mouth opened slightly.

In Charles’ hand was a gold ring, ruby sitting on top of it as he clutched on it tightly. It wasn’t just a gold ring. From what Toto had learned, it was Aimee’s grandmother’s engagement ring.

“I was— proposing to her—“ Charles sobbed quietly, a smile now resting on his face as he begged himself not to ugly cry in front of the Mercedes team principal. “Then she said Herb and J were going to be big brothers. I was on my knees, Toto! I promise! I want to propose first but she just spewed that— oh god, I have three children now.” It didn’t even dawn on him that he was about to have three under five until he cut himself off.

Then he was just crying hysterically in the middle of the office with Carlos barging in frantically. “What the hell, Charles?! Are you okay?”

Toto smiled proudly at the Monegasque driver, clapping him on the back before he shrugged at Carlos Sainz and Fred. “Don’t worry about him,” Toto replied quietly to the other men, “he’s having his third child, that's all.”

Carlos and Fred were confused and scared. They weren’t sure if it was because of Charles’ breakdown on the floor of the Ferrari team principal’s office or if it was because of Toto’s calm demeanour. But regardless, if Toto said not to worry, then so be it.

Baby Boy Leclerc was written on his little hospital bassinet. But Toto got the first glimpse of his birth certificate.

Sacha Niki Pierre Philippe Leclerc.

Toto had no reason to be upset. He wasn’t. He was just as equally as annoyed at himself when he realized how overprotective he was when it came to Aimee - who, as of this point, had already given birth to her third baby. He had no reason to be protective especially when she was doing a damn good job at protecting her two children. Now, he had the chance to witness her protect Sacha — the boy that they named after Niki Lauda, who happened to be close to the Hearth sisters before he passed.

Like Tilly’s second pregnancy, Aimee and Charles welcomed their son to the world with wedding bands in their fingers. Pierre almost had a stroke watching Charles boast about his wife and their third son— but the final nail in the coffin had something to do with Sacha Leclerc having Pierre as a namesake. It wasn’t everyday Pierre got to pass out over such a small thing— but to be a namesake and named the godfather of the child? Yeah, Pierre Gasly would boast about him too.

Arriving back home was easy. However, according to the Leclerc children’s grid uncles, writing down the boy’s name into the banner (which said, “Welcome Baby Sacha Niki Pierre Phi—(with a gap) lippe”) was quite complicated. They had done a good job with the twins’ welcome banner two years ago, but according to them their handwriting got too sloppy.

Lando groaned quietly, “Don’t give them such a long name next time. Look at Max! His name is just Max.”

Max Verstappen reached for a balloon on the floor before hitting Lando with it, “It’s a Leclerc thing to give them six names, of course they have to have the long name.”

“Oi, don’t make fun of my name,” Charles called out from the kitchen, pouring his two boys some glasses of apple juice the toddlers babbled in protest against their Uncle Max’s response. “Even H and J aren’t happy with what you said. You’re not being kind to your own nephews the more you make fun of me.”

Pierre chuckled, sitting next to Aimee as she fed Sacha. The Frenchman said, “I’m so convinced that those two are Charles’ minis.”

“They are becoming more like their Da as days go on,” Aimee pulled her tank top’s strap back on and began to burp Sacha. “I’m so outnumbered as of this point.”

“Baby PJ’s going to be like his Oncle Pierre, I can tell you that much,” Pierre smugly said, reaching out to caress Sacha’s cheek as he said, “I’ll be his big mentor and I’ll make sure his Da doesn’t have much influence on him.”

“His name is Sacha, Pierre,” Aimee rolled her eyes. Pierre, from the moment he was told of Sacha’s full name, had decided that the baby’s nickname was PJ — or Pierre Junior. He hadn’t even held the baby yet when he walked in the room but he had already staked his claim and declared Sacha as a Mini Pierre. “And you said the same thing to Herb and Jules when you met them, look how they turned out. They’re so much like Charles.”

“We all have our trials and errors,” Pierre mumbled, “and you know what they say— third times a charm. Maybe PJ will be the same.”

2029 — Anthoine Charles Elio Perceval and Alain Marc Léonard Arthur Leclerc

“You have quite some swimmers,” Pierre cackled hysterically, slapping Charles in the chest as he tried to get his shit together instead of laughing at the fact that his best friend has five children under seven. He really couldn’t when he had to remind himself that Aimee had given birth to another set of twins just a day ago.

Charles began to curse at him in French, already exasperated after the long night that Aimee had. She had a labour that lasted longer than the previous pregnancies that she went through and it annoyed her more than it made things painful. Charles’ five year olds and his three year old son were fussing about not being around their mother for longer than two minutes and were already on the way to the hospital with their Mamé Pascale and Mamma Blanche, eager to meet their little brothers.

Pierre, Max, Lewis, and Mick were all standing in front of the glass window of the hospital nursery with Charles, eyes all trained on the twin boys that slept peacefully alongside other infants. Charles never wondered, but he was always surprised that Aimee was this strong to even give birth to five of their children— fuck that, she had given birth to five of his boys. He couldn’t even find himself to swear to his best friend when he was too busy loving the shit out of his newborn sons. His boys.

On the men’s left was Anthoine Charles Elio Perceval, whose personality was already showing by the way his resting face wrinkles to a scowl. Pierre couldn’t afford to cry over the tribute to their friend who passed years ago that all he did was laugh at his best friend’s experiences in fatherhood. He could just cry later on, the Frenchman told himself while he continued to pester Charles about his five sons.

Next to Anthoine’s bassinet was Alain Marc Léonard Arthur, whose soft smile had the men outside the nursery melting as he cooed softly and shifted around. Charles and the others could tell that out of the two of them, Alain would be the one to stop the Ferrari driver from ripping his hair out.

Anthoine would most likely give Charles a run for his money and raise hell with Hervé and Jules.

Alain would be the one to be as angelic as PJ — whose nickname stuck after Pierre continued to visit the boys every other week — and his mother Aimee, whose youthful glow remained despite entering her motherhood five years ago. Aimee wasn’t that outnumbered after all.

Max scoffed next to Pierre, “You wouldn’t be saying that if you hadn’t known anything about protection.”

“I’ve had practices,” Pierre winked at Max, making the Dutchman grimace. “Just no luck yet. It’s not as if I’m shaming Charles for it.”

“Five kids are better than none,” Lewis shrugged, still looking at the twins on the other side of the window. “How you’ve done it— fuckin’ beats me— but I sure as hell am jealous.”

“Never hurts to try for one more,” Charles chuckled. “You really think Lottie and Leland would be satisfied to have each other? It doesn’t really make a good playhouse squad.”

Lewis huffed, “They’ve already got your boys, Adelmo and Max’s Millie. I don’t think Steve would appreciate having to push out one more.”

“What about you, Max?” Mick joked before nudging the Dutchman with a smirk. “Opting for one more?”

“I’ve got a girl,” Max deadpanned, “and I’ve another one on the way. I’m not the kind to be greedy but I think Millia and Lila would make good big sisters to a little brother, don’t you think?”

“Are you two settling for the little girl’s name then?” Pierre asked. “Lila?”

“Poor Sylvie doesn’t even have a child named after her,” Mick laughed.

“She named our daughter Emilia,” Max defended himself, “I didn’t ask her to name the girl Emilia. She just said it’s too damn pretty.”

“Besides, Max isn’t really known for giving things good names,” Lewis teased. “Last I checked he wanted to call Emilia ‘Jane’.”

“Fuck off, Sylvie loves Jane Austen,” Max scoffed, shoving Lewis slightly when the British man laughed. “Besides, her name would have been Blue or something.”

“All jokes aside,” Lewis paused before clapping Charles on the back. “I’m pumped to see your bunch hanging out with their cousins. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Four months,” Max murmured. “It’s been four months for all of us.”

“I know,” Charles rolled his eyes. “H and Jules are looking forward to the Australian GP— they’ve been wanting to wreak havoc in the paddock since Abu Dhabi.”

“Those kids of yours need to lose that energy,” Pierre chuckled. “Have you ever taken them for a walk?”

“I always take them out for a walk,” Charles muttered. They just have a bad habit of running away from their Da. All the freaking time.

Speaking of.

“Da!”

“Look at those little devils go,” Pierre and the other men turned to the direction of the sound of running feet, hoisting little PJ up in his arms while the eldest Leclerc children ran towards their father, who had immediately lifted them up and pressed a kiss on their cheeks.

“Where are they? Where are they?” Hervé and Jules tried to keep their voices down, as they were told by their Mamé before they entered the hospital— begging their dad to show them the newborn babies as he pointed through the window.

“Oncle P,” Sacha reached for his godfather’s scruffy face as he murmured, “où est Maman?” Where’s mom?

“Elle dort comme un bébé,” She’s sleeping like a baby. Pierre whispered to the boy, now pointing to the babies as he continued, “Like your little brothers.”

“Mm? Mais il ne dort pas,” But he’s not sleeping. Sacha pointed at the baby to the right. “He’s no sleeping?”

“He looks like you, Da. Look,” Jules pointed and said in awe while grinned at his father. “And he does too!”

“He’s like me and Jules!” Hervé exclaimed in amusement. “They look the same, Da!”

“Yes they do,” Charles grinned, “because they’re like you two. Twins!”

“How come I don’t have twin?” Sacha asked, slumping against his Oncle Pierre. Max and Lewis turned to the boy and offered him a soft smile.

Mick then reached out, “It’s better that you don’t,” he joked, “you’re one of a kind, little PJ.”

“But he won’t have any driving partner for Ferrari?” Hervé protested in annoyance. Charles laughed at this. His sons were born to be Ferrari drivers, said once by Sebastian Vettel. They were born to a Ferrari driving father and a mother who worked for McLaren. Even the amount of papaya outfit never stopped the Leclerc children from aspiring to become the Prancing Horse’s next generation of drivers.

All but one. Sacha turned to look at his eldest brothers and said, “Me and L’land are driving for Mercedes!”

“No! You’re driving for ‘Rari, ‘member, PJ?”

“Mummy said I can drive for anyone,” Sacha pulled himself away from Pierre’s chest for a second to cross his arms, pouting at his eldest brothers. “I wan’ drive for ‘Cedes!”

Lewis looked at Charles with approval all over his face, obviously cocky at the statement made by the three year old.

“You don’t want to drive for Alpine like your Oncle P?” Pierre asked, goading his godson into joining his team.

“Hm, maybe! But I wanna be like Uncle Lew and Da!”

“Mon chou, you are like Da,” Charles grinned widely. “You and your brothers are mini Charles.”

Seeing his sons now — the two that he held in his arms, the toddler that Pierre had on his own pair and the other two that were just born yesterday — had him thinking about the importance of their names and their existence. Charles didn’t seem to think of himself as someone so sentimental, but his life with Aimee seemed to change his viewpoint. He valued his family more than he did before.

He didn’t care much about carrying the family name as long as he could remember where his sons’ names came from.

If his eldest asked, he was more than willing to tell them a story about how Hervé and Jules got their names from their late grandpa and uncle. If PJ asked, then Charles and Aimee would sit him down to tell the boy about Aimee’s Uncle Niki and great grandfather Philip Hearth. And someday when his youngest grew curious, he’d tell them all about Charles’ good friend Anthoine and a French driving legend named Alain Prost.

He’d sit them all down to let them know about the people that he and Aimee loved and how they loved to keep their memories alive through the boys.

But for now, Charles Leclerc was quite content with nurturing his boys with his wife. He was only looking forward to caring for Aimee Leclerc and their children. Then maybe someday, the Leclerc bunch would grow to care for their mother too.

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