#saying whether he should be married to me or this other girl.

[fooled-around-and-fell]

your geto fic is super cute 🥰 if you're taking more requests, may I request a sukuna fic please? maybe in an au where he's a gangster and reader is of a classy, rich family so reader's parents don't agree, but then sukuna appears in one of their events in a suit and looking dashing as ever!

ooooooooo it's 3 am but i have to write this down!!!!!!!!!

shadows and silk.

summary: sukuna shows you and your parents that he is absolutely the right and the only man for you (whether they agree or not) genre: angst/fluff pairing: gangster!sukuna x female reader warnings: cursing, modern day au, not a great parent-child relationship, ooc sukuna

Masterlist

-----

your father doesn't even bother to hide his disapproval. "he has tattoos on his face. what if he's in the mafia- what have you brought our family into?!"

"father-"

"i am," sukuna clarifies, "in the mafia. my father is the leader. and one day, it'll be my time to lead."

your parents gasp in shock, surprised by sukuna's brashness.

"that wasn't a threat," he clarifies again, holding your hand. "i love your daughter, and i'd like to have a good relationship with you both. because it's important to her."

you smile appreciatively and grasp his hand, looking at your parents with hope.

"you're fucking insane."

-----

it was probably not the wisest decision to ask for your parents' approval, knowing what kind of people they are. being one of the richest families in the country, it's hard to have... any kind of life outside of what they had planned for you. like a pawn in their game of chess, your choices have been made for you since the very beginning.

unlike sukuna, you grew up "perfect". you aced your piano lessons, easily graduated from your violin school, and got straight As in all your grades. every day was the same for you; wake up, school, extra lessons, homework, sleep, and repeat.

that's actually how you met sukuna. one day, there was something wrong with the traffic so your driver was late. you'd been waiting for an hour, and sukuna just happened to finish his detention.

"hm?" his eyes caught you standing by the gate. "aren't you that rich kid?"

you looked up at him and analyzed his face -- high school student with face tattoos, you don't see that very often. "who's asking?"

"tsk, tsk." he chuckled, "so much attitude for a little person." he ruffled your hair before walking in the other direction. "wanna come? i'm gonna go have some fun."

fun... the word was so unfamiliar to you. you'd never talked to him before, and though it really was probably dangerous to just go with someone whose name you didn't even know, you couldn't help yourself. especially not when he turned around with a smile, urging you to come with him.

he took you to places you've never been before and made you feel things you've never felt. you felt free from your parents' chains, for once you felt like you could do whatever you wanted.

and sukuna was glad he could make you smile. you, the girl who always kept to herself in class, quiet, polite, almost scared. you made him feel things, too.

you got an earful from your parents that day, but the cute keychain sukuna won you from the night market was worth it.

now, the keychain hangs on your favorite bag, one that he also got you a few weeks ago. though you already have multiple designer bags that are much more expensive, the bag sukuna gave you was priceless.

"morning, baby." sukuna greets you, kissing your cheek.

"morning," you smile at him. "i'm sorry for how yesterday went. my father, he's-"

"let him be," he says. "nothing can keep me away from you, understand?"

you smile at his words and nod, "you better keep it as a promise."

sukuna smiles and kisses you, "i swear it."

he wonders what he could've possibly done to deserve someone like you.

-----

"what do you mean i'm getting married?"

your father sighs. "don't be difficult. the gojo clan is the most powerful, you should be thankful they're letting you marry their son."

"but father, i have a boyfriend, and i just graduated college! i- i can't marry, i still have so much i want to-"

"enough!" he yells, "you're marrying gojo satoru by the end of next month and that's final."

you're lucky that you have your own apartment. dialing sukuna's number, you get into your car and drive home where sukuna says he's waiting for you.

"ugh, unbelievable!" you throw your keys on the table, letting it slide off and annoying you even more.

he grimaces and sits you down, handing over a glass of water. "so it didn't go well..."

you sigh, "...they're arranging a marriage. with the gojo clan."

sukuna's jaw clenches, anger evident, but then it disappears. "that makes sense. they are the strongest and the richest."

"they're not giving me an option, like always-"

"gojo satoru is pretty handsome," he continues, "blue eyes, tall, quite built.. he's not a bad bachelor."

you squint your eyes at your boyfriend who seems like he's talking nonsense... or not really. "what are you trying to say?"

sukuna sighs. "we should break up."

the words that come out of his mouth after that are all blurry to you. something along the lines of...

"we've been together for years."

"it's time to get a fresh start."

"aren't you curious what it's like to date other people?"

"i'm getting bored to be honest."

and it all just seems like bullshit. bullshit because why is he looking at you like that when he's breaking up with you? why does he look like he's still madly in love with you and saying all that stuff is killing him?

why does he look like he's lying?

"tell me you're joking."

sukuna, unfortunately, doesn't humor you and leaves you alone in your apartment without saying anything else.

the rest of the month feels like hell. you tried running away from your parents, the guards they sent after you, but to no avail. somehow, they've repurchased your apartment and now you're back to living with them.

you met gojo satoru once throughout the entire month. he's decent, and actually a good guy like sukuna said, but he's not sukuna. he doesn't leave a random flower he picked up on the way to your place, he doesn't shower your hands with kisses when he sees you, and that's all expected -- because it's not supposed to be a loving relationship. it's a contract. once you marry him, your parents' company will merge with the gojos and become even richer.

today's the engagement party. your mother has chosen the perfect red gown for good luck, and she's made all the preparations for the party -- you, like always, never had a say in anything.

you feel like an object for them to trade with. compared to the gold bars sitting in their safe, you're probably worth less.

"i know you also didn't agree to this," gojo satoru whispers as you're both sat down in the middle of the ballroom while everyone else enjoys their meal. "but you look beautiful."

you offer him a polite smile, which turns rather sad. hidden in your sleeve is the keychain sukuna got you. your mother managed to throw away every cherished memory you had of him except for the keychain.

you wonder what sukuna is doing right now... if he's enjoying his life, if he maybe has a new girl by his side...

"sorry to shit on your party," your head snaps up the moment you hear that familiar voice, and a gasp escapes when you see the even more familiar tattooed face with pink hair. "but i'm going to have to kidnap your fiancee for a bit. maybe forever."

"..ryo." you stand up abruptly, letting your chair fall and hit the ground. he's dressed in a white suit, black vest, black shirt, and a matching black tie. he looks like he's ready to be your groom.

giving you the smile you miss most, sukuna stands in front of you and grabs your hand. "hi, princess."

"what are you doing here?" you whisper, tears about to fall from your eyes.

"saving my damsel in distress." he softens when he sees your lip tremble, kissing you gently. "i told you nothing can keep me away from you."

"but you-"

behind you, gojo satoru clears his throat, motioning to the many guards surrounding both of you, ready to pull you two apart by force.

"let my daughter go right now." your father demands.

you grasp sukuna's arm tightly, not planning on letting him go any time soon. in return, he has his arm around your waist, pulling you to him gently before he snaps his fingers, revealing rows and rows of armed men ready to fire.

the guards immediately stand down, obviously outnumbered. they let you and sukuna leave without a fight, and you stop for a second to spare a glance at your parents, looking at you disapprovingly.

-----

you're sitting on sukuna's bed. you've only been to this place a few times, considering he moves around a lot. he's helping you with the infinity amount of hairpins you have stuck in your hair while you take off the red gown you're wearing.

"ryo," you call him.

he hums to acknowledge you, mouth full of hairpins.

"...why did you break up with me?"

taking out the last piece of hairpin (he thinks it's the last), he throws them away before sitting behind you, arms snaked around your waist, his head resting on your shoulder.

"i... i thought i was doing you a favor," he admits, "with my job... it's not easy being with me, you know? i'm scared you'll think i'm a monster for what i do - it still terrifies me."

"so i thought if i just pushed you away, it'll make things easier for both of us," his grip on you tightens, "but it didn't. at least not for me. and i know i'm being selfish here by wanting you back, i know i don't deserve it, but i just... i can't imagine living without you. i'm sorry. i'm so sorry."

you turn around to face him, straddling his thighs and kissing him softly. "if being selfish means i'm stuck with you, then you need to be more selfish."

he grins, arms wrapping around you. "i love you."

"i love you more, ryo."

#ryomen sukuna #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x female reader #jjk sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x female reader #sukuna fluff #sukuna angst #ooc sukuna #sukuna jjk

[ginkgo-phyta]

Hotch would definitely give you the princess treatment, and you know what? Jack would too, after seeing his father he knows how to treat a girl right. And the team would definitely tease Hotch, because his son is going to steal his partner from him :)

omg no LITERALLYYY tho like just like omfg alright i got carried away with this and its not even really what you're talking about but listen to me okay LISTENNNNN

tagged spencer reid x reader because i want more people to see this teehee pls dont hate me i have spencer fics yall should read if you havent already but also you should still read this too

YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH AARON HOTCHNER AND ITS INFLUENCE ON HIS SON JACK gn!reader, FLUFF, no warnings(?) another informal blurb typa format :P

you and hotch decide together you'd like to date for a while first, take things slower and fully solidify and strengthen your relationship, before you become a part of jack's life. you didn't want jack to get attached to you or write you off too quickly in case life took you in different directions. you didn't know it at the time, but hotch introduced you to jack when he was sure he was going to marry you some day- and soon. he had been so incredibly head over heels in love with you and once you and jack got close, the little guy really got to witness how highly his father regarded you- and just how he showed you it every day. even in the little things. from the way hotch pulled out your chair, held all doors open for you, always kept your favorite drinks and snacks stocked up in the fridge and pantry, never let you open your own car door, the way he made spaces for you in his bathroom and closet without even being asked, and how he always stuck to your weekly dinner date- whether in person or over the phone. to the way his father would look at you, listen intently to whatever you were talking or ranting about, how he'd cup your hands and press quick kisses to them or move any bothersome strands of hair from your face when you'd eat, and how enthusiastic he always was when you and jack would spend time together.

jack was a bit hesitant with you at first, he was a bit older at that point and the quickness with which beth had left his life had admittedly stung him, leaving an ever-present welt behind. but he warmed up to you, appreciative of the way you welcomed him with open arms, never pressured him to spend time with or even like you (letting him accept you at his own pace) and how you clearly were not trying to take the place of his late mother- even many, many years into your relationship with his father. what he loved the most was how you always encouraged hotch to recount stories of haley, put pictures of her in jack's room or wherever else he wanted them, and how you would remind him: "your mother would be so proud of you jack." you would watch old home videos of their old family and jack never failed to notice how you wouldn't ever feel negatively about it. that was really what won him over. he also loved how open you were with both him and his dad- every day you'd say "i love you!" both casually and purposefully. it instilled in the young boy the importance of expressing appreciation, love, and care for others.

before you, hotch was always a just bit emotionally closed off. even when it came to jack he liked to keep himself a bit more reserved. he tried to stay a strong and unwavering inspiration, only wanting to show his son his best face. but once you came into their lives you inspired hotch to open up more than he had the last few years after haley's passing, inspired him to embrace even the "uglier" emotions he felt in life: grief, anger, sadness, and tiredness. it ended up passing onto jack in small ways, allowing him to feel even closer to dad. you became a huge structural post in jack's life. your love for one other inspired him, as he grew up he dreamed of one day having a relationship like yours. he looked forward to being able to treat his significant other the way his father cares for you.

you loved jack as if he was your own, though you never wanted to say that to him for fear of overstepping your role. aaron would always assure you, especially as jack grew older, that his boy felt it. you watched him go from a playful child, to a moody teenager, to a budding adult eager to make his mark on the world. and you were there supporting him the whole way.

you'll spend a lifetime with the both of them and although there will be many funny, loving, or frustrating moments you'll hold in a special place in your mind, there's one memory from when he was still a youngin that you love the most. it was a surprise dinner party at your fancy restaurant, aaron had booked the whole place just for you and the guests to celebrate your engagement and he had enlisted jack's help to plan the whole thing. jack, the bau team, and your friends and family were all there to shower you in love. the most memorable part of the night was the moment everyone sat down for dinner, all around a giant table (possibly multiple tables pushed together). as everyone moved to take their place jack ran so eagerly in front of you to pull your chair out before his father got the chance. you were shocked for a second before bursting out in a melodious laugh- it was so unexpected but you were incredibly moved. "oh, jack, thank you!" your loving, excited, and genuinely appreciative tone made jack's already huge grin grow even wider and more endearing. everyone else had noticed this too and laughed in joy along with you. "oh my god!" "that was so freakin cute" "he did not just do that!" rang out around you. of course aaron noticed, standing in silence for a second, a similar smile mirrored on his face, before he shook his head with a chuckle. as you took you seat, jack made sure to push your chair in just before you sat down fully, diligently executing what he'd studied his father do hundreds of times before. you turned to thank him, but before you could even open your mouth jack moved to take your cloth napkin from the table, shake it open, and carefully place it in your lap. awwws flooded in from all sides of the table

"oh you are just so adorable jack, thank you so much." you said as you pinched his still slightly chubby cheek "you are just the kindest, sir." you playful tone cause jacks entire face to blush and he shyly walked over to take a seat next to you.

"what? you take my job, and now you don't even want to sit next to me?" hotch spoke up from you other side. jack knew his father was joking, but he still bashfully giggled, sinking a bit more into his seat

"you better be careful, hotch," derek spoke up from across the table, motioning to his former boss with a breadstick, "looks like you got some competition there."

everyone broke out into more laughter, especially aaron. in the midst of the hysterics, the once-stoic man's hand crept into your lap to hold your own, thumbing over the back of your hand and the beautiful engagement ring wrapped around your finger. you shared a glance while you both laughed before you looked over to jack. wordlessly, your hand suddenly hopped up to ruffle up the little boy's hair, causing him to scrunch up his nose and giggle even more.

but you didn't have to say anything, your eyes held the truth. love. jack continued to look up at you, feelings of warmth, joy, and safety draped over him like a fuzzy throw, covering him from the crown of his head to the tips of his fingers and toes. he knew that with you in his life now, besides him and his father, everything would be okay.

A/N: SCREAMING how was this anon? sorry i didn't delve into the team teasing hotch more bc these thoughts were swimming in my head and i NEEDED to get them down perhaps i could do another post of just teasing quotes if that's something you'd like! i got a few ideas swimmin already teehee i hope you enjoyed my love!!

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch imagine #hotch x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x reader

[sundaynightlive]

Soft (Steddie + Platonic Stobin)

Hey Steve?”

“Mmm?”

“Can I say something? And can you promise not to get mad at me?”

Steve looks over at her curiously. He can hardly imagine what she could say that would really upset him, or why she’d feel the need to preface anything she had on her mind with a question like that. Usually, she’s all gung-ho about pissing him off—it’s just how they are, constantly bickering like an old married couple. Steve really doesn’t blame anyone for thinking they’re together—they sure act like it, in a roundabout sort of way.

“Sure.”

“Say you promise.” Steve rolls his eyes.

“Seriously, Rob, I’m not gonna—”

“Say you promise.”

That actually slightly unnerves him. He keeps his eyebrows raised, but relents.

“Alright, I promise.” She shifts in her seat, glances up at Eddie and the kids on stage, all chattering about something he doesn’t understand—attack rolls? Natural 20s? Owlbears?

“He makes you soft,” she says. Steve follows her gaze.

Oh. She noticed.

Steve tends to be oblivious, but he had noticed this, mostly because it was so… new. Irregular. Confusing. Around Eddie he just… softens. That’s about the best way to describe it—he’s glad Robin said so, because now he can put a name to the feeling. His brain seems to stop its mile-a-minute, mamma-bear rampage and just… quiet. He can’t put a finger on why—well he can, but it’s… a lot. He’s spent many a night staring up at the ceiling, trying to discern whether he really is romantically attracted to Eddie, or if he’s projecting. Maybe he’s been alone so long he just can’t tell anymore. Maybe his and Nancy’s little dance around each other is just confusing to the point of insanity.

But Robin noticed. And they should talk.

“Can we move back a few rows?”

“Sure.”

They stand and none of the kids nor Eddie take notice. Their voices are getting progressively louder, and Ed is perched in his chair like he could spring up on to the table at any moment, hands motioning excitedly in all sorts of ways. He talks with his hands, just like Nance and Robin.

“Are you mad?”

“No,” Steve says as they take seats in the mid-section, a little farther towards the back of the auditorium. He settles in, both to the seat and his own uncomfortability, not sure how to start the things he needs to say. He has questions, answers, concerns—but where to begin?

The beginning, probably.

“Do you remember that night the three of us were hanging and then Vickie came and picked you up and I told you I left right after?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t.”

He looks over to make eye-contact with her, and finds just Rob, gazing at him. A little curiosity, a little surprise at his blatant lie—but he hadn’t known how to talk to her about it. Or how to explain himself. He had thought it easier just to hide that he and Eddie could ever get along without her, because she felt like an essential intermediary. A reason that it isn’t what it actually is.

He can’t really explain himself. He doesn’t really get why he lied, either.

“Liar,” Rob accuses, but there’s no bite.

“I stayed,” Steve confirms, breaking their shared gaze to look back out toward Ed. He’s got this feeling in his guts like he’s about to get into trouble, like he’s broken one of his mom’s nice antiques and is about to lose his swimming pool privileges—

“We talked for the entire night. Until six in the morning. And then I went home, and I wanted to call him. And I… I’ve been having these thoughts like maybe I like him? And I don’t get it because—” Robin takes his hand “—I like girls, you know? I know I do, you know I do—”

“Can I interrupt? Just a two second thought.” Steve nods, “Some people like boys and girls, it’s called being bisexual. I just want you to have that in mind for the rest of this conversation.” Steve blinks at her. Nods slowly.

Maybe he should’ve gone to her sooner.

Not maybe. Definitely.

“Okay… right. So… I’m fucking stupid,” Steve breathes. Robin shakes her head vigorously, adding a second hand to the mix.

“No no no,” she insists quickly, “But I want you to—“

“No, I like him,” Steve realizes, a million—maybe a billion—thoughts and feelings invading him all at once. Fear, uncertainty, excitement, relief, anxiety—he can’t even latch on to one of those. He doesn't know how to feel or think or anything except for this stark, pervasive understanding— “Holy shit, Robin.”

“Steve, you’re getting ahead of yourself—”

“No, I’m not,” Steve shakes his head, kind of probably in shock, “No, I… I’ve been trying to figure this out for weeks. I should’ve just… Oh my god.”

He puts his free hand over his face, absolutely mortified. Not about liking Eddie, of course, but because he had stupidly never considered that liking girls didn’t automatically make him unable to like guys.

Jesus, he's an idiot.

“I’m sorry,” Robin says, and for what, Steve has no idea. She’s just fixed his whole problem—or at least, half the problem. Now he has a crush he has to deal with, and of course Nancy, but at least— “It’s not a bad thing, though. I know it’s a lot to deal with and if you need anything I’m here. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“Rob, I’m fine,” Steve assures her, “Other than having a fucking pathetic crush on Eddie.”

Silence.

“So… you’re good with liking guys?” Steve looks up at her, sighing again for what feels like the hundredth time in this conversation.

“Yeah, that’s fine. It’s just I totally could’ve been doing something about it if I had just asked you sooner.”

Robin stares at him.

He stares back.

What, is he supposed to have some sort of breakdown? He’s had all sorts of thoughts about Billy and Tommy and Harrison Ford—of course he likes guys. Of course that’s not a “straight person” thing, he’s not stupid. But if he’d just applied a tiny bit of critical thinking—

“Are you serious right now?”

“Of course I’m serious,” Steve scoffs, “I could’ve already had, like, eight boyfriends if I had just thought about it. But I’m a fucking meathead.”

The unintentional hilarity of that statement doesn’t miss either of them, but now’s probably not the time.

She stares.

He stares back.

“You astound me, Harrington.”

“Do you think Eddie likes guys?”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Of course I’m—seriously, do you think he likes dudes?”

“I hate that you just said dudes.”

“Robin.”

“How many times has he suggested we watch Rocky Horror?”

“Enough for us to shorten the name.”

“There’s your answer,” she says, still sounding flabbergasted at his nonchalance, “Man, I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I cried for forty-eight hours after I realized I liked girls.”

“Do you want me to cry?”

Robin grimaces, “You’re right, I don’t.”

“That’s what I thought.”

She shakes her head, clearly done with him. It’s uniquely comforting how quickly she can go from a supportive shoulder to a hateful best-friend. He admires that about her, the many facets of her personality that make her, her. He truly doesn’t know what he’d do without her. He wishes they had talked in high school, that he could’ve been someone else in those days, especially seeing where being the “coolest guy in town” has really gotten him.

Nowhere, that’s where.

“I love you,” he says. She’s still holding his hand, and she stays holding it.

“I love you, too.”

#steddie #platonic stobin #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #hellfire club #blorbos #soft #we all deserve someone who makes us soft #don’t we? #gay #lgbtq #fanfic #fanfiction #blurb

[mxrecg]

True Love vs Infatuation | Gojo x Reader

Summary: Gojo loves nothing more than spending time with you, even if it only consists of doing the most mundane of things. It wasn't until today, you realized just how much Gojo Satoru loves you.

Pairing: High School Gojo x YN

Genre: fluff, established relationship

Word Count: 2.4k

A/n: Imma be so honest idk wtf this is but I wrote it a hellaaa long time ago. So bc JJK s2 is out I thought why not post this drabble I wrote a long ass time ago. I also genuinely think this prolly isn't how canon Gojo would act but bruh I tried!! Anyways enjoy

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

Incandescent fireflies painted the dark sky with small flakes of light, creating an enriched serene atmosphere for reading. 

So there you sat cross-legged, outside your balcony, fully engrossed by the book you were reading. 

You slowly became hypnotised by the words allocated within the pages of the novel you were reading.

As your eyes further loomed through the pages and comprehended the context, your eyebrows furrowed in irritation and cuss words occasionally left your lips. 

Lost and captivated by the words decorating the interior pages of the book, you paid no mind to the snoring boy who laid down on your lap. 

You continued reading the story. Book in your dominant hand; whereas, the other one gently massaged the scalp of the teenage boy on your lap. 

Page after page began to turn, and soon enough you’ve reached the final page… to say you were disappointed was an understatement. 

Angered at the ending, you immediately slammed the book down on a coffee table and debated on whether or not you should ignite it on fire for illustrating such a realistic yet heartbreaking ending. 

Your sudden outburst lured the teenage boy out of his sleep, and he groaned, carelessly rubbing his eyes during his tired state. 

“Did one of your favourite manga boys die again?” he asked, now fully sitting up and stretching his arms. 

“You’re not entirely wrong,” you aggravatedly muttered. 

“Then tell me what’s aggravating your pretty self and giving you wrinkles,” he stated and you didn’t even bother showing your irritation to the latter comment. 

You took a deep breath, turned your head and he watched as your eyes became livid as you recited the vast difference of each character’s milieu and how their fate perfectly intertwined with one another. 

Your hands doing all sorts of motions, in an attempt to exemplify your extreme dislike and sadness of the poetic story you read. 

A story involving two individuals who unconsciously were ameliorating each other’s lives.

“It’s infuriating Satoru!! Did these two airheads even love each other?? It hasn’t even been like 24 hours and the girl is already marrying the man who was bawling his eyes over another girl- love of my life my ass,”

Satoru listened to your outburst intently, smiling at the sounds of your melodic voice. 

You let out a small huff of frustration, before finally ending your rant and the tears suddenly cascaded down your pale skin, “That being said, the author is able to write damn well.” 

Satoru only laughed quietly, wiping away your stray tears with his right hand, “I thought you hated sad romantic books? Why would you willingly choose to read Shakespere? At least watch the movie instead,” he replied and began playing with your hair. 

His reply caught you off guard and you tilted your head in confusion, staring at him with wide eyes. 

“You know what book I’m talking about?” you asked incredulously.  

“Yes… why do you look so shocked?” he asked, continuing to brush the threads of your h/l h/c hair, “It’s Romeo and Juliet, how could I not know? I swear Shoto was straight up fangirling about the movie actor-Da Vinci!!” 

“Da Vinci?” you replied, flicking his forehead and trying to hide your growing amusement, causing the man to pout his lips, “How the hell would a painter act? A dead painter at that.”

“No- no Leonardo Da Vinci the actor-”

It took every fibre in you to not burst out laughing at the moron in front of you, “My love, listen to me carefully- it's Di Caprio. Da Vinci painted the Mona Lisa.” 

The man in front of you scoffed at your reply. 

“Da Vinci. Di Caprio, who cares. They’re both Leo’s involved in the art industry of the world. You must admit though, neither of them compare to me!” he said proudly. 

“I don’t know…. Leonardo Di Caprio does seem to have a lot of fangirls right now…. I mean have you seen him in Romeo and Juliet? Or better yet, Titanic?”

The man only poked the interior of his cheek with his tongue, scowling at you as you laughed. 

“The real question is though- did you read the book?”

“Yes,” he let out, not missing a beat. 

“The Satoru Gojo reads? The world must be ending,” you teased, clasping one of his hands and using your other hand to caress his cheek. 

Satoru didn’t say anything. Instead, he leaned into your hand and softly smiled. 

His eyes soon twinkled into amusement, as an idea struck him. 

Noticing the change of his behaviour, you lifted an eyebrow to display your confusion. Satoru remained silent and instead flipped you over, so that your back was pressed against the couch. 

He smirked, straddling your hips and began tickling your sides. 

Squirming under his touch, you burst into fits of laughter, “T-toru…. S-stop….” you tried to breathe out, “Gojo- p-please hahahaha.”

Your pleas only encouraged him to tickle you faster, and you soon began to kick your feet, thrashing beneath the man as if your strength could overpower his. 

“Say Gojo Satoru is the strongest person in the world,” he smiled, continuing his attack. 

“I’d rather die,” you said in between heaps of laughter.

The man poked the interior of his cheek before smirking at you, a playful smile adorning his face as he continued with his attack. 

“Being tickled to death. Hm that seems new, I’ll discard your body so don’t worry, suit yourself,” he replied and grazed his fingers at your newly exposed skin, since your shirt slowly began to ride up above your navel. 

“Ok ok… Gojo… is the… strongest person….” 

“Go on, continue,” he encouraged. 

Despite the laughter escaping your lips, forcing your eyes shut, you already sensed the cockiness behind his words and you immediately laughed harder when you thought of something that would catch him off guard. 

“Gojo- i-is… the… strongest….” you stuttered out. 

“Altogether, now, state the full name,” he stated. Although, it seemed more like a command than a request. 

“OK!! Gojo Y/n is the strongest person in the world,” you spurred out in one quick breath. 

Impressed with the turn of events and his lack of words, you could not help but smirk- considering you made this cocky guy lose his demeanour. 

His tickling immediately ceased, his irises resembling a deer caught in the headlights, and his mouth slowly falling open. 

Gojo was in disbelief, as he tried to ensure his hearing wasn’t deteriorating and the words that escaped your mouth not too long ago were not a part of his mere illusive imagination.

Before he could recover and say some snide snarky remark, you grabbed Satoru’s shirt, pulling him down with you against the cushions of the couch you resided on. 

The action took him by surprise, but he didn't refuse and instead grabbed your waist, pulling you closer to him, with his arms eventually caging you beneath him. 

He licked your bottom lip, and you found yourself parting your mouth slightly, both your tongues intertwining with one another. 

Caressing your cheek, he then began to angle your head more towards the left, and did not hesitate to bite your bottom lip shortly after. 

You hissed at the new sensation, and Gojo immediately attempted to alleviate the now burning sensation on your lips by running his lips over the new forming bruise. 

You were the first to pull back to breathe. As the both of you attempted to even out your breathing, one of your hands caressed his dusted pink cheeks, while the other one removed his sunglasses, revealing those piercing icy blue eyes you fell in love with. 

He looked at you with such love and adoration that you could not help but feel butterflies swarming around your stomach. 

Your e/c eyes looked up at his illuminating bright blue ones and you smiled, “I’m the strongest person in the world, Toru.”

“That you are,” he replied, kissing your nose. 

“You’re not even going to rebuttal and be the cocky bastard you usually are?” You questioned him, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re the strongest… The strongest doesn’t necessarily mean having the most power. It’s your character. Plus you got me… not just anyone could make me fall in love with them. You have my tall ass whipped around your finger.” 

You stared at your boyfriend, in awe and bursted out laughing. “We’re both strong. How about that?” 

“Mhm. We’re the top two strongest special grade sorcerers to exist, and for the next century to come” he muttered and buried himself into your neck, as he was now fully lying down on you. 

You laughed at his reply, “Your best friend might not like that statement so much,” 

“... I mean you’re also my best friend and technically you’re stronger than him, not by a longshot but still stronger nonetheless… and I couldn’t be more proud of you,” he mumbled and kissed your neck. 

You quietly hummed in reply, and began to softly hymn the songs of a soft lullaby.

Satoru was still lying on top of you, and as the melody escaped your lips, your fingers threaded his soft white hair. 

Gojo Satoru was at peace. This cocky bastard was like putty in your hands, and you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

To others his exterior forecasted a childish, arrogant and conceited individual. One who would blatantly show his dislike to those who he did not give an ounce of care for. 

And to the shaman and other sorcerers who only knew his name, he was a force to be reckoned with and feared. 

But to you, he was only Gojo Satoru. 

“Y/n?” he called out softly. 

“Yeah?” 

“You know, I love you, right?” his face may have been hiding in your neck, but you could feel him smiling. 

You raised an eyebrow at his sudden comment, but even you couldn’t stop the smile threatening to form, “I know. And I love you too, forever and always,” 

“You didn’t lie though earlier,” he randomly stated, “One day, your new name will become Gojo Y/n.”

“Satoru…” you whispered, fighting back the tears that were threatening to fall. 

“One day, I’ll marry you… and when we’re older you'll become the mother of our children.”

“One day Satoru, one day,” you replied, kissing his temple. “By the way, since when did you even read- romance books?” 

You felt his breathing hitch and he slowly pried himself off of you, aimlessly scratching the back of his head. 

“Uhm… like two years ago?” 

“Why though?”

“About two years ago,  there was a new transfer student. I noticed she was eloquently spoken, especially in English-”

“Eloquently spoken??” You asked, trying to suppress your laughter. 

“Shut up and let me finish,”

You covered your mouth and smiled. 

“Anyways, I was coming back from a mission and stuffing my face with an assortment of sweets. Then I heard you and Shoko talking about romance novels, and how you liked guys that read… so the first book I picked up was some corny romance manga and then I read Romeo and Juliet. Shitty book that I barely understood but happy ending I guess.” 

“So you only started reading because you overheard me talk about it?” you pinched his cheeks, “Aw, first year Gojo Satoru was so whipped and in love, how sweet” 

Satoru only rolled his eyes at your statement, and you bursted out laughing as you remembered his attempts to woo you back in your first year. 

“I thought you barely had any hobbies?” you asked. 

“I don’t. Because I’m good at everything.” 

“Yet you still chose to pick up reading of all things?” you slightly laughed. 

“I would pick up any hobby if you asked me to, honestly.”

“No offence, but if that is where you got your romance from you did a shitty job, love.” you giggled. 

“Ouch,” he replied,  “But hey it went pretty well, you’re mine now anyways.” 

 “That you are,” You replied, kissing his nose. “So if you read the book and I assume you also watched the movie, do you understand my pain?” 

“100% Romeo is an airhead. He was probably just horny and infatuated with the first female he saw,” he bluntly stated and you couldn’t help but laugh out loud, Satoru joining in on your laughter. 

As your laughs began to die down he continued, “On a serious note though… Whether or not it was love, their actions prove that they did love each other. I guess love really does make you blind, their suicide only proved that.”

“Tragic ending?” 

“Not really… in a way, I believe it’s a happy ending- that is, assuming those two airheads were actually in love with each other.”

“Did you not hear me muttering cuss words when reading and slamming the book? If you asked me, that book was nothing but aggravating and sad.” 

“Sad as their death was, it was a happy ending. They claimed to have met their soulmate and the love of their life before they died. Not everyone gets that luxury you know?” 

You looked at your boyfriend with both amazement and confusion, “Since when were you so wise?” 

“I don’t even know, love. But I’m not wrong…. Our story would be much happier though, because neither of us are gonna die.”

“You spoke nothing but the truth,” you quietly replied and the two of you began leaning into each other once again. 

“Who knew Satoru could be such a wise lil baby,” said a voice, laughing. 

The two of you immediately pulled away, and looked up to see no one other than Geto Suguru, the poor third wheeler of your relationship. 

“Suguru… how long have you been there for?” you asked. 

“Enough to know that this man loves you way too much… to the point where he knows his feelings for you aren’t infatuation but solid feelings.” 

While you were a blushing mess, Gojo only smiled and smacked his best friend on his back, “Okay enough chit chat, why don’t we all get something to eat, yeah? I suggest-” 

“Steak. We’re eating steak tonight at that new restaurant. You both are paying. It’s the least you could do for making me witness such crap.” 

“You’re just mad because you’re single, bro”

“Ain’t that the truth,” you agreed. 

“Shut the actual fuck, both of you lovebirds.”

The three of you then laughed and made your way to the restaurant of Suguru’s choice.

A/n: So any thoughts? I hope you all liked it <3 Ngl, this does have another part to it, but idk if I'll ever post it tbh. Follow me on my ao3 account I have other ffs there too @idekmxre

#gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jjk x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x reader #gojo x you #jujutsu kaisen #yn #jujutsu sorcerer #fanfic #character x reader #fluff #jjk fluff #established relationship #fanfiction #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujustu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen season 2

[hearts4court]

Dating Remus Lupin would include:

A/N: these were short. but i love them, should i do what it would be like, married to Remus? i feel like much wouldn’t change other then last names, age, and the sex UGHH ☺️🤭💕

Smut ahead! minors DNI!! 🤺🤺

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

SFW:

Remus won’t admit it, but he LOVES those nicknames you give him. Rem, Remmy, etc. Only his friends can call him Mooney, it sounds weird to him when you do.

he loves you so much it actually hurts. Would do anything for you tbh.

He reads to you, you’ll lay on his chest, your arms wrapped around his waist, your legs tangled with each others, whispering the words to you.

He also likes when you read to him, he just likes your voice, likes listening to you talk about things you like.

loves when you get excited about stuff, whether it’s about your interests or something cool you learned.

Gets mad when ppl cut you off while your talking, or when ppl don’t listen to you.

“and then it got really interesting cause the main character went into this cave and-“ you said, excited to talk about your new book that you’ve been reading, when all of a sudden, someone cut you off causing your smile to fade and for you to drop your head.

“anyways.. like i was saying-“ they started to say before- “shut the fuck up. Don’t cut her off, mate.” Remus scoffed before he turned back to you, grabbing your hand and kissing your temple. “and what happened after the MC went into the cave, love?” he asked making you smile.

When your on your period, he definitely shares his chocolate with you(and only you) he cuddles with you and doesn’t leave your side.

During full moons, he kinda avoids around this time because he’s moody and doesn’t wanna hurt you.

After he gets back from a full moon however, he lets you take care of him because poor baby is so vulnerable and tired:(

“There ya go.. Relax rem, everything’s gonna be okay..” you coo, as you wipe the dried blood from his back, making him hiss at the warm water hitting his wounds.

“You’re so good to me, dove.” he whispered making you smile, “don’t know what i’d do without ya, you’re my guardian angel.” he praised making you blush and smile widely, kissing his lips softly.

:((

NSFW:

Remember how i said he’s moody during the full moon? Well that goes with being horny too 🤭🤭

When y’all have sex, it’s usually slow and passionate. But during the full moon, it’s fast and rough, not like you mind anyways.

“Oh.. Remmy!” you cry as he thrusted fast and rough into you. “shh, it’s alright dove..you can take one more f’me, yeah? My pretty girl can handle it.” he praised as he rammed into you making you moan out.

“My pretty girl- oh, my sweet, sweet girl.” he praised, gripping onto your hips, leaving his finger prints indented into your flesh.

He’d def feel bad about “hurting you” after the full moon ends. So he’d make it up too you. :)

his tongue over lapping at your cunt had you arching your back and whining.”such a pretty cunt, dove.. pretty, just like you.”He said, gripping onto your thighs to keep you down.

If he’s feeling up to his sometimes, he’ll let Sirius get a taste, if your comfortable with it of course. He wants to show you off, especially when it comes to showing people what he gets to fuck.

Such a soft!dom but as his moments where he’s a hard!dom

remember how i said he likes to read to you? he loves to read book lines into your ear while he fucks you from behind 🦋🦋

Don’t copy, translate or repost any of my work w/o my permission.

#the marauders era #the marauders x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader smut #remus lupin smut #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fluff #remus x reader #marauders #marauders fluff #the marauders smut #the marauders #god i love him #my little princess #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin is my baby girl. #fluff #smut

[ventique18]

Fool in love

Malleus Draconia, the President of Briar Textiles, a textile and formal wear brand with a long and rich company history:

Also him at home:

Malleus "Top D" in the streets, Hornton "Bottom D" in the sheets.

Part of my President Malleus x Florist Yuu AU! You can read the original short drabble here.

Some additional details of the AU:

His heart-print necktie is a gift from you on your first dating monthsary. It was a sort of endearing joke on your part and you didn't actually expect him to wear it, but he loved it so much he makes sure to wear it at least twice a work week.

"Malleus, please stop wearing it!", "Why? It's a token of your affection for me, and I shall wear it proudly.", "You have a reputation to uphold!", "Well they should mind their own business, and if they are brave enough to mock me, then they should be equally brave to face the punishment that comes from crossing a person such as I."

You marry after a year of dating. He was actually preparing a grand proposal the following year, so he was so confused and shocked when you surprised him with a bouquet of flowers as you bent on your knees at GaoGaoland.

On the wedding day, his best man was his younger brother Silver, the ring bearer their cousin Sebek, the flower "girl" your cat Grim, and the officiator his adoptive father Lilia.

After marriage, you still find out things about him that surprise you in an endearing way. For one, he does not know how to drive; his brother or cousin escorted him to work everyday. Now that you're married though, that responsibility fell upon you and you gladly drop him off.

He makes sure to shamelessly hug and kiss you in front of his employees before letting you go.

He's surprisingly good at maintaining a work-life balance: he goes to work at 9am and asks you to close up shop to fetch him at exactly 6pm everyday. He cooks dinner with you as a form of bonding.

He doesn't work on weekends and makes sure to plan dates with you during those days; whether you prefer to go shopping at the department store, fly to another country on a whim, or just snuggle with some movies at home doesn't matter to him. He just likes spending time with you.

He's strict and a terrifyingly effective boss at work, yet he's a sweet (if not a bit clingy) husband at home. Others always get a whiplash seeing these complete opposite sides of him, but when asked which one is the real him, he just laughs and says both are genuinely him.

>> To be continued when I feel like it!

#posting this on april fools because he's a fool #a fool for you #twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #twst

[sinlilies]

༊*·˚ FOREVER BEST

— ꒰ premise ꒱ — your husband toji reminds you who his forever girl is. — ꒰ pairing / fandom ꒱ — fushiguro toji x afab reader (jjk) — ꒰ warnings ꒱ — explicit nsfw! established relationship, dirty talk, breeding, baby making — ꒰ word count ꒱ — 4.4k

You feel like time is taking longer than you anticipate. 

The pregnancy stick stays on the table as you stay close by. You’ve been all over the place in the room, either pacing back and forth or fiddling with your fingers as you sit quietly in bed. You force yourself to take a deep breath as you wait a little longer. Does it usually take this long to know the outcome of the test? 

Will you know if you are pregnant or not before he comes back? 

Your phone chimes somewhere in the room and it’s the timer you set alerts you. You pick up the pregnancy stick, having done this before a couple of times. The anticipation grows. You just hope that the outcome is something you’ve been hoping for so long. 

The second you look at the pregnancy test, a weight sinks into your stomach. A cloud of despondency aches in your chest. It’s the same outcome you had on the previous attempts. A result that you’re tired of seeing after several tries; not pregnant. 

You think of Toji and Megumi. Their faces flash in your head. You don’t know what to tell them about the test, especially your husband. You and Toji haven’t talked about expanding the family two years after being married to each other. You hope to surprise him because Toji’s the man you love with your whole heart and soul. You thought if you and Toji keep trying, you would eventually fall pregnant. But it seems that the time right now isn’t the time yet. 

A youthful, boyish voice greets you from downstairs. You realise that time has passed and Toji and Megumi have returned from grocery shopping. Megumi calls for you once again; he’s looking for you. You know that your little boy gets sad if he can’t get to see you as soon as he arrives home. “Welcome back!” You greet from upstairs. 

“We’ve got the stuff,” Toji says. Megumi repeats after his father enthusiastically. 

“I’ll be down with you guys in a second.” 

You discard the pregnancy test in the bathroom’s trash bin. You don’t think Toji would notice the contents inside or pay any attention to it. As long as it’s out of sight and out of mind, you can at least move on with your day despite the disappointment. Right now, you need help making dinner for your hungry boys. 

* * * * *

After reading a bedtime story for Megumi, you return to your room and Toji’s room. 

Reading stories to Megumi is your favourite part of the night. Little butterflies flutter in your stomach and love blooms in your heart whenever Megumi calls you  mommy. You may not be his biological mother, but you treat him like he’s your flesh and blood. You remember when Toji introduced you to Megumi from the very start of courtship, stating that he and his son are a package. The moment you met the little boy, who was only three, you felt protective of him.  

When you enter, Toji has gotten out of the bathroom. You think he must have taken a shower whilst you were with Megumi. Your husband smells of sea salt in his hair and mango on his skin. You think the scent suits him rather well, despite his physical appearance; large, muscular and tall like a tower. “What’s tonight’s bedtime story about?” Toji asks when he sees you. 

“It’s about Rumpelstiltskin.” You reply. “Gumi’s worn out tonight. He told me he’s been chasing Yuji, Nobara and Sukuna during a game of tag today. The energy level is pretty low.” 

“He told me about that too,” Toji says casually. He glances at the corner of his eye at you as you mindlessly brush your hair at the vanity table. The reflection of your face in the mirror tells him that you’re much occupied at the moment. Toji contemplates his thoughts, whether he should speak up or not. Unsure how he should react to your confession. Or your reaction even. 

After giving it a little more thought, he decides that he should. 

“Baby,” Toji calls you using one of the nicknames. 

“Hmm?” You turn around and your expression changes. The second your eyes land on the object in his hand, you freeze. Toji’s holding something that looks familiar to you. Your eyes widen, standing up from your seat, and your mouth gaping. “Toji… I–” 

“What’s this?” Toji asks. His staring suspends the silence in the room for so long.

He knows what is in the possession of his hand. The pregnancy test you did earlier. You were certain that you did dispose of it in the bin before he came back. Memory fails you; you certainly did throw it away, right? In the bathroom’s toilet bin? It should have been but somehow it’s in your husband’s hand. Your heart palpitates inside you loud. 

Toji knows what it is, but he waits for your answer. He’s got a hunch because it’s obvious what it is. Still, he wants to hear it from you first. You’re like a deer in headlights as you stare at him with a doe-like look in your eyes. You look away with a solemn expression. He knows from that look, you’re not sure what to say to him. Guilt rises in you at every mere second of quietness from you. Toji’s towering height looms above you and fingers are on your chin when you haven’t looked at him for a while. He gently lifts your face to look at him. 

“Talk to me, doll.” Toji coaxes softly. For an intimidating man, he’s always tender with you. His green eyes have you captivated and it’s difficult to look at anything else but see the worry in his gaze. “Take your time.” 

You exhale softly, “I thought I would be pregnant. Guess that it didn’t happen this time.” 

You stopped taking birth control pills when you and Toji tied the knot a year ago. Your gynaecologist said the effects would wear off over time to let your body adjust to the change. You weren’t sexually active with previous partners until you met Toji. The two of you are protected most of the time, relying on condoms and birth control pills. 

For as long as you can remember, you’ve always wanted to build a family of your own. And when you meet Toji for the first time in a bakery a few years back, he’s everything that you love and dream of. It didn’t matter if Toji had a wife before and an infant was Megumi, you still wished to marry and grow a family with Toji. A family of you, Toji, Megumi and maybe three more children; your family of six, surrounded by the people you love. 

It’s only been a year since you and Toji did it without protection. You don’t know if you should tell Toji what you think of yourself. Scared that it may be true when you finally say it out loud. You don’t know if you’re ready to accept the truth after all this time. “I… I feel like I’m not upholding my duty as your wife, Toji.” 

Toji doesn’t say anything, and the bedroom stays quiet. A heavy sigh escapes out of you with an unspeakable truth you yet need to tell him. It’s been consuming you with guilt, hurting you, and it feels shameful to finally say. You force out a tiny smile and try to avert your eyes elsewhere. What would it mean for you and Toji? What would it mean for the dynamics of the family? You think about Megumi and your lips quiver just a little. You can’t give the family you want Toji to have, and you can’t give Megumi the siblings he can grow alongside and make memories with.  I’m sorry, Toji.

Emotion wavers in Toji’s green eyes as he stares at you. Toji thinks to himself, recalling any times that he ever pressured you to give him another child. You’ve done so well for him and Megumi. You accepted him and loved him like he’s your flesh and blood. You never showed distaste for him the minute Toji revealed his secret to you. You’re so kind, so wondering even now. And especially to him; for accepting that his past happened and giving him a chance that he deserves to be happy. 

“C’mon here,” he softly says. The moment you come forward into his embrace, Toji’s arms secure you and hold you around your fast. You press yourself into him, you are buried in his chest. “I’m sorry if I ever pressure you about this, lovebug.”

“You didn’t, Toji.” You mumbled. He feels you resting the side of your face on his chest. “I just… feel like I’m not good enough to give you what you want.” 

A tear trickles down your face, forcing you to shut your eyes. Your arms tighten around your husband. A finger is placed under your chin, titling your face up and Toji’s lips meet yours. He kisses you delicately, cupping your face in his hands and it feels like you’re gravitating towards him, tipping on your toes to press your lips onto his deeper. 

When the two of you pull away from each, you feel the heat of his mouth and his breath fanning your lips. “Don’t ever say that,” Toji whispers, resting his forehead on yours. “You and Megumi are all I ever want and more.” 

Toji swipes away the tears on your cheeks and plants a kiss on your forehead. “And you’re more than good enough for me. Never forget that.” 

You smile at him. Though it’s still desolate, you feel a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. “I just want to grow a family with you,” 

“We are family, baby. You, me, Megumi and the dogs.” 

“I want to extend our family. For Megumi to have a brother or a sister that he can grow up with.” You say. “Megumi’s mum gave you her little blessing.”  And I want to do the same.  

Sometimes, you feel disappointed in yourself in comparison to Toji’s previous partner. Even though she’ll always have a special place in your husband’s heart, you know that Toji moves forward with you. You can tell that Megumi’s mother is a wonderful person hearing from your husband, though not that it creates jealousy in you. You respected her and you’re glad that she gave birth to such a beautiful boy like Megumi. 

You hope that you can do the same for Toji too. To watch Megumi play along with his potential siblings, whether that would be playing together or arguing as siblings would do. 

You look at your husband. His brows furrowed, green eyes focusing down on you. Toji is quiet and for a moment, you’re worried you’ve said too much. Parting your lips, you’re ready to speak up but Toji gets to you first. 

“You want me to fuck a baby into ya’?” He chuckles lightly close to your ear. There’s a glint in his eyes and he caresses your bottom lip. The heat from his thumb sends shivers down your back. “Hm? Is that it? Wanna make me a daddy another round?” 

You blush under his gaze. His grip tightens on your hips and you feel his face close. Toji towers over you and you feel tiny underneath him. Almost curling into his embrace. You feel his face close, his breath hot on your mouth. Toji’s chest vibrates when he lets out a throaty chuckle.  Fuck, he mumbles.  You’re so cute. 

Toji smashes his lips on yours and it nearly knocks the breath out of you. You instantly melt into the kiss and his arms, letting him take the reins of what comes after. 

He lifts and scoops you off the ground. Bridal carrying you to your haven and his. Neither of you breaks the kiss, still in the moment of heat and passion. Toji lays you on the bed and soon crawls on top of you. He doesn’t stop peppering kisses on your skin; from your lips and down to your jugular. You feel his hands around the waistband of your pyjama bottom and kindly lift your hips so that he can pull them off smoothly. 

Toji breaks off the kiss to look at you, though it doesn’t last long. The second kiss that crashes on you is needier and devouring. Like he’s ravaging you with his very last breath. Your hands grip his biceps as you pull him as close to you as possible. There are moans in the room and you’re unsure whether it’s from you or him. But they mingle together in breathy gasps and throaty groans. 

Toji unbuttons your nightwear and you feel slowly exposed to him. The silk garment brushes against your skin, followed by your husband’s large hand warming you up. “No bra tonight?” He asks, caressing your bare stomach and waist down your body. 

“I didn’t feel like wearing it.” 

You see the way Toji’s mouth curves up into a smirk, a naughty one. Bringing himself forward to your aching breasts. When your nipple is in his mouth, your husband suckles and lets out a pleasuring groan. It has you squirming underneath him. Hot and wet by Toji’s tongue with one nipple. Being fondled and lightly pinched by his callous fingers on the other. You can’t move around with your husband’s weight on top of you – not that you wouldn’t want anything else but to be underneath him. 

“How long have you been wanting this, hm?” Toji towers above you. A whimpering moan from you replaces the response you’re supposed to give him. Your head’s spinning in pleasure. 

“I gotta prep you first before you take in Daddy’s cock. Gotta loosen up that tight pussy of yours before we start. That okay pretty girl?” 

You feel the tip of Toji’s fingers tracing your labia and it has you squirming. Slippery and sticky against his calloused fingertips. He glides his thumb between your folds so easily till it reaches your little pearl. You whimper and squirm on the sheets, tempted to close your eyes to feel more pleasure. 

“T-toji…” Your chest rises up and down. Soon, you arch your back the second he slips a finger into your hole. Plunging in and out slowly. You feel more arousal flowing as he continues, not long after Toji slips a second finger in and does the same. “Oh, oh!” You gasped. 

“Good girl, that’s it,” Toji praises you. “Nice and wet for your daddy, hm?” When you no longer feel him inside you, Toji lifts his hand mid-air, showing you the glistening, clear liquid on his skin. He shoves one digit, then two into his mouth, licking them and pulling it out with a dramatic pop. “Wish I could have a taste of you. But I’m running out of patience.” 

Toji is off the bed to pull down his pants and he soon returns in front of you. He’s fully naked and glowing under the bedroom lights. He grabs you by the thighs, aligning your cunt between his cock. The sight of his broad chest, muscular biceps, sharp outlines of abs and the V-line has you speechless and in awe in anticipation. 

You watch as Toji fists his cock in his hand, coating it with his leaking precum. He shuffles himself forward and aligns himself between you. Holding both your legs by the thighs. You feel his member hot and pulsing on your folds. Blood rushes through your veins and your clit twitches excitedly. You look up at Toji, coloured eyes in mixtures of lust and trust. 

“I love you,” you confess a little breathless. 

Toji looks at you with a smile, his expression gentle and he caresses the side of your face. “I love you too beautiful.” 

Your breath hitches when Toji pushes himself bit by bit, breaching into you. You moan and Toji groans when he’s finally bottomed out. You’re trying your best not to squirm at the feeling of him adjusting his throbbing member. The world spins around you, squeezing your husband’s dick inside you. It’s not your first sexual act with Toji but it always feels as if you’re learning new debaucheries with him. When you see his green eyes, you can see that Toji’s holding himself back. Clench jaw and shallow breathing. And he still smiles down and cages you in his arms like you’re the most precious thing to him. 

“I’m okay.” Your voice softens. Toji starts moving his hips slowly, stretching you out and letting you adjust to him. Custom to his forgiving thrust. Both your legs are unsteady for you to put your feet on the bed. “Gentle?” Toji asks. 

When you shake your head, Toji chortles. “Good girl.” 

After a couple of thrusts, he begins to move at a pace you’re familiar with. It’s consistent, impactful force thrusting that soon morphs into a relentless speed that has you clawing and gripping onto the sheets. 

“There’s my beautiful doll,” Toji praised. “Taking daddy’s cock eagerly, letting him fuck you. Letting me breed you fully.” 

You whimper, feeling the bliss you’re fed with. Wanting to arch your body up against him.  You like that, huh, Toji questions. He smirks above you and you think he purposively thrust himself into you with a little more force than his previous attempts. 

“Wanna be my baby mama, huh? Is that what you’ve been thinking the whole time?” Toji asks. Your face feels hot. His grin grows wider and wider, almost sinister, when you nod eagerly. “Making me a daddy a second time like I’ve always wanted? Gosh, you feel so good.” Toji moans a little. “The moment I first saw you. The moment I introduced you to my son.  The moment I decided to make you mine.  That’s when I’ve always known you are meant to bear my children.” 

Toji holds both your legs by the thighs and pulls you towards him. He continues to plunge himself, thrusting faster at ease. Your head tilts back with a moan, clawing the spaces next to you, gripping the sheet above your head. You feel your thighs push onto your chest as Toji towers above you. He might as well fold you like a carrier seat if possible. 

“Oh my god, Toji.” You sound breathless. He fucks you like he’s on a mission. Not missing the opportunity to get you pregnant and be his baby mama. The idea of you sharing a kid with Toji genetically warms and cools below your belly. You know that he would make a good father. 

“Fuck, I feel you trying to grip me.” Toji’s jaws tighten. He huffs through the thrusts and you watch his upper body move underneath the bedroom lights. “But you’re dripping, doll. Look at you wetting my cock and letting me slide in you so easily.” 

You can imagine Toji’s view when he looks at you; moving up and down in bed, bouncing breasts with every thrust. He hits your spot every time, the tip of his cock bruising your cervix. And when Toji spreads your legs a little more, you feel every rigid, vein of his throbbing member inside you. 

“Let’s try this.” Your husband suddenly says. You’re confused when he stops but the moment Toji slips his arms under your back and has your legs pushed up to your chest, he swifts you up. Earning you a yelp at the loss of gravity but you immediately forget about it when Toji resumes. 

The new position has you slicking more with arousal. Toji chuckles and thrusts himself harder, faster which has him cursing under his breath about how good you feel. Your legs are dangling over his shoulders, with thighs pressed onto your chest and trusting Toji to secure you in place. 

“You wanna come?” The room echoes Toji impaling you. “Yeah?  Fuck  – come with me together. I know you’re close.”

You whimper in response. Toji’s thrusts are starting to be sloppy and he is close too. Every impact he impaled on you has your head spinning and squeezing your cunt in excitement. A wave of shock hits you, convulsing as you reach your orgasm. “T-Toji…! ” 

Through your climax, Toji still keeps on going before he reaches his orgasm inside. As soon as he pushes himself in with a hard thrust, Toji groans in your shoulder. He comes inside and you shudder at the feeling of his load. Toji rocks his hips gently and lays you down back on the bed at last. 

You run your fingers through his hair as Toji rests on top of you. His fingers trace your side and the two of you are content with the quietness and warmth of each other and from one of the most mind-blowing sex you ever had. 

You rest your eyes but hear what Toji says; “we have many more rounds to go, doll.” He shoots you a devilish grin. “Don’t fall asleep on me just yet. I need to make sure you’re filled with my load of come for weeks to get you knocked up.”

* * * * *

“Oh, thank you for bringing the plates, Gumi, baby.” 

Megumi stands you his kiddie plate after he finishes his dinner. Though he’s only five years old, Megumi adopts the habit of helping you and Toji every dinner time. You and Toji take turns doing the dishes; today’s your husband’s turn to do it tonight. The water runs at the sink as you pass the used plates and cutleries to Toji. 

You feel a tiny presence next to you; you smile down at Megumi. “Do you want to have your bath later?” 

Little Megumi nods. He then points to your husband, “Wanna help Baba dry the plates.” 

“‘Course you can, bud,” Toji says. “It’s you and me against loads of dishes tonight.” 

Megumi lets out a little ‘thank you’ when you hand him a drying towel. He steps up onto the child-friendly stairs and stands next to his father. Soon after, the two of them are in their world together, talking to each other. 

Your heart flutters and you smile for the nth time tonight. “I’ll go get the bath ready.” You announce. You kiss Megumi’s temple and leave a couple of kisses on Toji’s clothed back. “Have fun you two.” 

“Love you, mama!” Megumi yells. Despite walking away from the kitchen, you hear Toji’s distant voice. What about me?, he asks Megumi. You try not to laugh when his son says that he loves you a little more than Toji, and your husband gasps in pretend betrayal. 

Out of sight from the two of them, you’re now alone on the way to the guest room. There’s something that has been on your mind. When you enter the room, it gives you the space to think. It’s been almost a month since you told Toji your desire for a baby. He’s been nothing but amazing to you that night; tending to your carnal needs, giving you the most intense pleasure and orgasms that has you sore for a couple of days. You blush to yourself when a memory of you and Toji that night comes to you, and a reminiscing smile blooms on your face. 

You’ve had sex with Toji so many times but for some miracle, it hasn’t knocked you up yet. Despite how good Toji fucks and makes love to you that night, you might not necessarily be pregnant from it. It may have been a few weeks ago and if you remember correctly, your regular period should be arriving in a couple of days. 

You look at the pregnancy test in your hand and think to yourself. Could it detect your possibility of being pregnant before your period starts? 

You used the guest bathroom and did what the instruction said on the test kit. Once you’ve peed on the stick and set your timer, you have to wait. The pregnancy test stick is left in the bathroom on the counter, whilst you stay in the bedroom. 

The door knocks. When you look at the door, you see that it’s been opened and Toji sticks his head in on the other side. He must be looking for you. “There you are. I thought you would be in Megumi’s room for bathtime.” 

“I will be in his room soon. Just needed to do something before that.” 

Toji strides towards you. His fingers lace in your hand, holding you as he studies your face. “Hey, you okay?” 

“Yeah,” you flash a smile. “I… I’m waiting for the result of the pregnancy test.”

Toji squeezes your hand gently. “No matter what the outcome turns out to be, I love you. You know that. If you ever need a reminder, I can always do a repeat of what happened a few weeks ago…” His voice trails and gives you a raised brow of coyness. 

You laugh and playfully nudge his ribs. Toji pulls you into him and wraps his arms around you. “Quit teasing me, Toji,” you say. 

“Can’t help it when you’re my forever girl, couldn’t I?” He chuckles. The two of you stay with each other and hold. Indulging in the quietness and letting time pass by. You’re so thankful that Toji and Megumi are in your life. A family that you couldn’t ask for anything better. 

The timer on your phone tells you that the wait is over. Toji lets you go and gives a nod, reminding you that he’s here for support. You let go of his hand and disappear into the bathroom, not long after emerging there. With the pregnancy test clenching in your hand, you take a deep breath and slowly exhale. Toji grabs your free hand and the caress of his thumb on your skin soothes you. 

You cover the message of the pregnancy test with your thumb. When you look down at the test and remove your thumb to stop it from covering, you see the revelation. Your breath shakes as you place your hand over your mouth. You didn’t think it was possible. 

“What is it?” Toji asks. You look at the stick in your hand, then at your husband, at the pregnancy test again—your open still gapes, surprised at the news in the palm of your grasp.

You turn the stick to face him, revealing what shocked you. It’s Toji’s turn to be surprised. His green eyes widen and before you know it, he scoops you in his arms and lifts you. The room is filled with surprised laughs and giggling excitement. 

You and Toji live in the moment and when he holds you, Toji rests his forehead on yours.  Thank you, he whispers and you’re thankful to him as much. Your wishes have come true. 

You’re pregnant. 

#toji fushigro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #sinlilies ; newest

[demonslayedher]

Low-Key Married AU fluff

Kochou said that I was disliked, so I asked her if she disliked me too. For someone so quick to have a smiling response to everything, she struggled to reply. She was the one who proposed marriage and swayed me, so I had thought that meant she had feelings for me. There would be no other way to read it. However, with as unbothered as she is by my absence, I have to wonder.

It’s been ten days since I had last contact with her. I went home to the Butterfly Mansion, but she had just departed for a mission, so I didn’t stay long so as not to trouble the girls. It may still be a few days before I can return again, but it’s always likely she’ll be busy. She’s incredible in that way, taking on all the care of our injured Corp members in addition to her Pillar missions. It must be in her personality to keep adding to what keeps her busy, like taking me in as though I looked like I needed the care. Although the times we’ve spent together have been nice, I don’t require it. My duties call for me to always be ready for battle, and I’ve always kept my heart steady.

So has she. We are Pillars first, and no amount of affection can sway us—whether an abundance or a lack.

I’m not bothered by lacking something I didn’t deserve in the first place.

Last night again, I was too late to prevent a family from being slaughtered. There were no survivors this time, aside from the eldest child who was still ravenous with a recent transformation. Having to chase him down and keep him from harming anyone else kept me off the trail of the progenitor of demons, who had to have been close by. For centuries, he’s evaded us this way over and over, sacrificing entire families to throw us off his trail. If I were to chide myself over every failure, I would have lost the ability to do anything ages ago. Each time, the anger is something I carry with me, to push myself harder the next time, and the next. Any extent more that I can push myself may be the difference to someone’s survival, no one can afford to lose their life over any of my own lost confidence.

“CAW!! TOMIOKA GIYUUUU! NEWS FOR TOMIOKA GIYUUUU!”

Each time it's a crow I think I recognize, my stomach drops. My mind is already playing the words I dread to hear, as though trying to protect my mind once I someday hear them.

"Kochou Shinobu has died."

Even if I hear them, I'm a Pillar first. That was what we promised each other. I'll always do as I must.

The crow says nothing as it delivers a letter.

YES, YES, I KNOW, THIS FANDOM HAS TURNED ME INTO SHIPPER TRASH. For this pairing, it was more specifically my own joke AU which later bit me in the back and made me start really, really enjoying GiyuShino (which, for the record, I do not consider canon). Was throwing ideas back and forth with @reicchel again the other day and so here we are with ship content!

Part of the reason I love the Low-Key Married AU (in which it's mostly canon as usual, except that Shinobu and Giyuu have been married for over a year or so, and it's not a secret but they make such little deal about it that many people don't even know they're married) is that it's a frame through which to see every interaction and either make it really, really funny, or very, very, sad. Everything was supposed to be funny, but it keeps hurting, hahaha... aaahhhh.

For instance, in a regular romcom situation, it should be funny that Kanzaburo doesn't deliver all of Giyuu's letters. Knowing these two, who might had started this whole "well, we'll be a couple when we have time" thing by actively writing regular letters, this could had simply given the impression that the other person wasn't writing as much, so they both naturally decreased frequency to match. It's a little lonely, but neither one is going to push the other for more attention.

No!! I refuse to let this post end with angst! Time for omake!!!

#I spent a few days enjoying high-brow Noh and now I'm back to shipper trash #giyushino #giyuu x shinobu #tomioka giyuu #tomioka giyu #kocho shinobu #kochou shinobu #my art #too bad for you Tanjiro your karma in this AU had to even out somehow #also that is the happiest Giyuu I have ever drawn and it's adorable #GiyuShino Low Key Married AU

[mvltisstuff]

this town - e.b

summary: buck tells his kids the story of him and y/n.

evan buckley x reader

a/n: ok so someone left this as a request and i accidentally posted it too early 😭 but i still wanted to do it and i hope they find it :(

buck was sitting on the couch in his and y/n's home, when he heard little footsteps roll down the stairs and sneak up behind him. he was home alone tonight for a bit while y/n was finishing up her shift, which meant he was the one to put them to bed and get them ready. usually, both of them would put them to sleep, so buck was ready for a night of complaints and the kids missing their mother.

"alright guys, it's almost time for bed!" buck turns around to face them.

"but we wanna wait for mom to come home! she's always home when we go to bed!" their oldest complains, and buck is ready for the battle with his 6 year old son.

"i know, buddy. but moms just finishing up at work. she'll be home soon."

"we want you and mama,” their youngest daughter says in small words, being younger than her brother.

"i know, but she'll be home to give you guys a kiss in bed.” he says, rubbing their sons head.

"can we wait for her, please! we don't have school tomorrow either so we can stay up later." buck contemplated whether he should send them to bed, but he was still outnumbered. he knows he should be the one to tell them to go to bed because he is their father, but there is nothing he hates more than the people he loves being sad.

"fine, but i'm not taking the blame when mom is upset you two aren't in bed!" he jokes with them, moving around so they can sit comfortably with him.

“can we have a story, dad?” his smallest asks, snuggled with her head on his stomach and small body between his legs. buck pulls them both in and begins an old story from when they were young, a classic.

cuddled into bucks side, his son says, “cmon dad! can you tell us about you and mama?”

buck smiles, thinking of how to begin such a long story. “alright, alright. well, you know me and mama weren’t always fans of each other right?”

“what?” the boy asks, moving his head up with a shocked expression. “you hated each other?”

“well…” buck and y/n have always taught their kids not to say hate, as it can be such a strong word, but there really isn’t another word for how their relationship started. “i wouldn’t say hate. it was… rocky.”

after another week of having to be rivals at their station, fighting to keep their spot at the 118. having another dinner together, when y/n walked in, buck rolled his eyes and sighed. even when they were assigned together, he couldn’t help but complain. they were both good. and they couldn’t stand that about each other. they didn’t want to waste any time getting to know each other when they could fight instead. their egos were too big.

they started to think bobby put them together on purpose, “y/l/n, buck, are we gonna have a problem? you guys cannot tolerate each other and if you can’t learn to fix that then we will have one.” they sat in his office after being called in. they didn’t really know how to response, not being able to let up their stubbornness.

“sorry, cap. but don’t look at me.” buck says.

“really, buck? this is exactly why you are exhausting to be around.” y/n says, staring at the wall instead of at him.

“guys, stop. fix this, now. get a grip, and focus on work before i consider other measures.”

“then how did you get married if you hated each other?” their little girl asks.

“well, you wanna know what mama did next?” he asks them back.

“what did she do, dad?” the boy asks.

“your mom,” he presses his finger against his chest. “saved my life.”

“y/l/n, we have no response from buckley during head count,” bobby tells her.

“what? is he still in there?” she says, pointing at the hall building that was seconds from falling. bobby nods painfully, and y/n pulls on her helmet again.

“y/n? you can’t do back in there, we got a direct evacuation order…” bobby says with heartbreak at the closest thing he still has to a son.

“sorry, but he would break an order for any of us, cap.” y/n says, running back into the burning building that could be layered on top of buck right now.

“so if she didn’t find you, what would’ve happened?” buck doesn’t want to answer that question, because she is the reason he is alive. he would be dead without her.

“i don’t know, pal. but she is the reason i have you and everything i have.”

“so you stopped hating her?”

“i realized that we never really hated each other, we were just too much alike so i couldn’t handle someone with as much passion as i did,” buck says. “which is why we tell you kids to never say you hate someone, because you never know what could happen. but me and your mom, i had no idea what to say after. i owed her everything. she helped me all the time after that, so we got a lot closer and we learned to love each other for who we are.”

back to the world outside of his hospital room, finally, the team threw buck a huge party. y/n had driven him over, still having to help him with small tasks. his hand had gripped onto hers, still being prepared for the worst after that had happened to him. when he walked in, everyone was there. karen and hen, chim and maddie, athena and her family, eddie and christopher with carla. buck felt extreme amounts of overwhelming love, before he even realized that she had put this together for him.

as the party went on, and they went their separate ways to talk to different people around them, buck had finally found her again. even thought he was fighting to get back to work, he still got tired at the end of the night.

“hey, you having fun? feeling ok? do you need me to grab anything for you or ar-“ buck cuts her words off and pulls her in. he leaves a kiss on her lips, as a way to thank her without having to figure out the words yet. he didn’t actually have to, as they came spilling out seconds later.

“i love you, y/n. i truly don’t know how to repay you for any of this. you rescued me, i cant thank you enough, y/n. i’m so sorry, i put you through hell and you could’ve left me there-“

“i would never be able to live with myself if anything happened to you, buck. i love you, too.”

“we got married a few years later, and then you,” he nudges his son. “came along. and then you did, too. you two have no clue how happy everyone was when you arrived.”

“i’m glad mama saved you, dad.” his son says, still leaning into his side with tiredness forming in his words. his daughter was already asleep, knocked out in his lap.

“me too, kid. me too,” buck reminisces on all their memories together, finding out she was pregnant and when he proposed, and even the bad moments when they fought over dumb stuff. after a while of telling their son more miscellaneous stories about him and y/n, they both eventually dozed off into a sweet sleep.

y/n got home about 15 minutes after they had fallen asleep on the couch, and a grin grew on her face as she saw her kids both slumped on the couch over her husband. she walks over, not being able to remove the smile. she runs her hand over bucks hair, and his eyes flutter awake.

“hey, how were they? i see they didn’t want to go to bed,” she says.

“oh, you know. wanted to wait for you so i told them a story.”

“wow,” she looks at her son and daughter passed out over their dad. “must’ve been a good one then.”

“oh, you wouldn’t believe it.” buck smiles back up at her as they wake up their sleeping children. after tucking them in with their goodnight kisses, they make their way to end the night together as they always dreamed, even at that station years ago.

#911 #911onfox #bobby nash #eddie diaz #evan buck buckley x reader #evan buckley #evan buckley fanfic #evan buckley x reader #athena grant #henrietta wilson

[flowerandblood]

The Impossible Choice (44)

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, angst, violence ]

[description: Aemond comes to Storm’s End to choose his future consort. However, Lord Borros Baratheon presents him with only four of his five daughters. Being attached to his youngest child, he does not want to marry her. The prince, however, thwarts his and her plans with his decision. This is slow burn, with a lot of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request)]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

After what he had said to her, after he had confessed his deepest hidden thoughts to her, he had exposed the dark side of his heart, he felt that his wife had finally seen him as he was. He was an unpredictable, cruel, possessive man who wanted her for himself, and now that she was his, he could take her as many times as he wanted.

So that's what he did.

He caressed her with his tongue, and then fucked her with his length aching with arousal, because he could, because he wanted to, because he had to. And even though his words as he fucked her, sliding in and out of her with deep, intense movements proved that he owned her, she still responded the same way.

I love you.

He was ashamed of how quickly he was reaching his peak after hearing those words struggling to come out of her mouth, so he waited with them until the very end, when he was already on the verge of fulfilment, and then made her say it again and again, cumming inside her with a sigh of relief.

He collapsed on top of her, panting loudly, crushing her with his body, careful, however, to cause no harm to her or their child. They were both breathing anxiously, and he swallowed loudly, looking at her sweaty face, feeling her body quiver under him from the exertion.

He loved her.

He'd known it for a long time, felt it in his veins, his affection for her burning inside him like fire.

"I…fuck." He hissed, clenching his eye, feeling the words get stuck in his throat. He felt shame, felt a barrier. He was a prince, his father the king and mother the queen had never spoken those words in front of him. They seemed foreign to him, mysterious, even naïve.

If someone had asked him before his nuptials if he would ever confess love to any woman or his wife he would have laughed out loud, saying that love was the fairy tales of sweet, innocent girls, a pathetic attempt to add something to the fucking and romance that would give them meaning.

But now, as he lay beside her, his wife, his Maiden, feeling her throbbing body beneath him, her scent filling his nostrils, still being deep inside her, filled with his seed, he felt only adoration. He realised suddenly, surprised, that he had changed.

He shuddered when he heard her soft, quiet voice.

"Don't force yourself to say it. I didn't confess it to you to make you say the same words, husband. You are showing me the enormity of your feelings in a way that any other woman in my position would dream of." She whispered tenderly, but he froze, swallowing hard, feeling for some reason pain at her words.

He realised how carefully she watched him, how well she knew what he needed and what made him uncomfortable. She never forced him to do anything that caused him pain or frustration, never drew out him tender words and assurances of his affection and fidelity.

He realised that she had never asked him to embrace her, to hug her, to say a tender word to her. At the beginning of their marriage he did not even touch her, let her cry in his presence and did not even look at her. He took her virginity and then turned his back on her without even asking her if she needed anything, if he hurt her, if she needed him to embrace her.

He didn't even ask her if she was ready.

Whether he should slow down.

Whether she was afraid of him.

He pressed his lips together feeling the tears gathering in his eye with embarrassment.

How could he have been so blind?

How could he do this to her after what he experienced in the brothel?

He had never asked her anything.

He knew nothing about her.

This realisation crushed him, and his question, asked in a trembling voice, came from his throat involuntarily as a low, uncertain murmur.

"… did your father and brother… tell you this?" He asked uncertainly, feeling the need to know more about her. To get to know the woman he had been obsessed with even before he met her.

The war was before them and he felt fear at the thought that he might soon lose the opportunity to ask her these questions.

That he might die.

He felt her twist in surprise, and had the impression she was smiling.

"… yes. Royce less often, rather when I was crying to comfort me. However, our father often told us that he loved us. He called us his beloved bunch. He always said: two hawks and four doves." She said softly, lightly, tenderly, and he swallowed quietly, sliding off her body and turning sideways with her, his soft manhood still deep inside her. His fingers ran involuntarily over her arm.

"What did he mean?" He asked finally, and his wife began to tell him about herself and her siblings. He smiled at her mention of playing great battles with her brother, imagining her as a small child running through the forest with a wooden sword. When she mentioned her mother, he pressed his lips together.

Should he ask?

"What happened to your mother?" He asked uncertainly, pressing her tighter against him, wanting to soften his question, and he felt her body solidify in his arms while she swallowed loudly. She was silent for a long moment, breathing unevenly.

"She caught a cold on one of our hunting trips and fell ill. My father never forgave himself, because he had promised her that they would come back sooner. Everything was prolonged while we waited in the camp, it was cold and raining all around. She got a fever, fell asleep and didn't wake up again." She whispered, he could hear her throat tighten, that remembering it all caused her pain.

My father never forgave himself, because he had promised her that they would come back sooner.

She got a fever, fell asleep and didn't wake up again.

He wondered if her mother was to her father what she was to him. Was this why Borros did not take a second wife.

Was it the same reason his father-king did not love him, but loved his sister.

He never spoke to him about Aemma. He felt furious when sometimes at dinner he addressed his mother like that, causing her pain. He wondered how he could be so thoughtless and cruel, why in his eyes they were not worthy of his love.

But now, as his beloved wife whom he had taken for himself under the stars lay before him with his child in her womb he finally understood him.

He imagined his father embracing Aemma in the same way, holding his hand on her womb when she was expecting his next child, praying with her that the child would survive and that it would be a boy.

He imagined watching as they cut open her womb.

He shuddered at the thought and decided that he would never do that to her. He would let her decide.

He would never hurt her like that.

He felt he needed to dissuade his mind from these grim thoughts and he grunted quietly.

"Were you close with each other?" He asked quietly and heard her sigh, her hand tightening on his arm that embraced her, protecting her from the cold and the danger that awaited her beyond the confines of their tent.

"She couldn't understand me like my father did. I think now that I'm older, I understand her better and maybe now we would…" She said, and her voice broke. He felt pain hearing it, his fingers still running over her warm skin.

He too had to accept that he would never ask his father about many things again.

That he would never truly understand him again.

"She surely was a wonderful woman." He assured her softly, and she nodded, sighing quietly. "Where is she buried?"

His wife swallowed quietly, trying to calm herself.

"In the crypts in Storm's End." She whispered. He was silent for a moment, thinking about her words.

"When the war is over, I would like to pay tribute to her in the crypts of your ancestors. To the woman who brought my beloved wife into this world." He said softly, and she turned towards him, wanting to look at him.

He pressed his nose to her wet cheek, and she stroked his face with her fingers. They kissed gently, tenderly with a wet, sticky click, and looked at each other.

"I'd be honoured if you'd like to do that." She whispered and he embraced her, laying back behind her, their hands entwined on her womb.

"I love you." He whispered in her ear so quietly he wasn't sure she heard. He felt her body tremble, however, her hand tightening on his. He had a feeling she was crying again and he kissed her neck gently. She didn't respond to his confession, but she didn't need to.

He knew how she felt.

The words left his chest with such lightness that he felt surprised. He murmured low, sinking his face into her soft dark hair, and fell asleep surrounded by the warmth of her body.

In the morning, he rose before dawn and left immediately after a servant helped him put on his armour, not wanting to wake her. He headed for the tent where all the commanders, including his brother, were waiting for him.

He and Royce threw each other warning glances, but his wife's older brother broke and nodded before him. He knew that telling his sister about their father's bastard child had been a mistake, and now he feared that Borros would find out that she had found out through him.

Beside him, Daeron, Criston, Lord Lannister and Lord Baratheon, he also saw before him his uncle, his mother's brother, Gwayn Hightower, a tower with flame on the top on his armour, a green cloak on his left shoulder. He bowed before him respectfully.

"My prince. In accordance with the will of my father, and your grandfather, and my nephew-king, I arrive with reinforcements to bring a final end to the cause of the Black's." He said calmly, Aemond nodded, inviting him with a gesture of his hand to join the entire gathering. Along with his uncle came several other commanders, vassals of House Hightower.

Aemond nodded to the rest of the men, and a tense silence ensued around him. Daeron stood at his right side, looking almost manly in his armour. Aemond swallowed loudly at this thought and began to speak, looking at the map in front of him.

"Prince Daemon came up with the idea to find bastards born of dragon blood and train them to be dragon riders. Help them tame free dragons." He said, and a commotion echoed around him, the men beginning to whisper to each other anxiously. Borros leaned with his hands on the table, looking at him expectantly.

"Is it possible? How many such dragons can be found around Dragonstone and Vale?" He asked lowly.

"Too many. In accordance with my brother-king's wishes, I have ordered my trusted men to deal with any known dragon bastards. I hope they die within the next few days." He said calmly, the men looked at each other with uncertainty, Daeron glancing at him, shifting anxiously from foot to foot.

"What if they've already found someone? If they're already training them?" Borros continued. Aemond sighed heavily.

"Then we will find ourselves in trouble, my lord." He said with emphasis. "However, a dragon is not a slave, the fact that they will be able to get on top of them does not necessarily mean that they will obey their orders." He said, looking away. Borros snorted.

"It is enough for them to breathe fire at their command. Is it not?" He asked disapprovingly, and Aemond sighed heavily, clenching his eye. His uncle grunted loudly, stepping closer to the table.

"In that case… if we have such suspicions… shouldn't we attack beforehand? Surprise them?" He asked, glancing at Borros, clearly seeing him as the commander-in-chief of the entire war, which indeed he was. Lord Baratheon shook his head.

"They will destroy us. They will hide among the hills, they will have a perfect view of us from above. We will be in the field open, their archers and crossbowmen will destroy us before we can reach their army." He said impatiently, pointing with a circular motion of his hand to the mountainous area on the map described as the Vale. Lord Hightower pressed his lips together.

"However, if we were to surprise them, if it was suddenly my nephews who attacked the Eyrie where Prince Daemon now resides on their dragons, they could prepare the ground for our cavalry and infantry to attack. They think we are afraid of them, that we will not move, meanwhile they are growing stronger every day." He said, looking at the men around him. There was an awkward silence.

Aemond looked at the men around him and understood what they were thinking about.

They were afraid.

Everyone wanted to return alive to their homes.

Everyone hoped that the war had a chance to end peacefully.

He knew, however, that with Rhaenyra's letter confirming Jace as heir to the throne, it had dashed any hope of peace in his eyes.

He made his decision the moment he saw Caraxes flame embrace Harrenhal.

The moment he thought his wife was dead.

"My uncle is right." He said, trying to hide the tremor in his voice, the horror of what he was doing. He put his hands on the table in front of him clenching his lips, his heart pounding like mad.

He was doing it. The decision was his.

Either he would make the move, or Daemon would.

And then they would all die.

"We will attack them tomorrow before dawn. So that they will not see us. We will fly up quietly, our army will wait behind the hills all around and will only come out to attack when they see the flames burning Eyrie." He said in a defiant tone and looked at his wife's father.

Borros looked at him with a look he had never seen from him before. Terror and concern mingled in his eyes, as if he had just realised that his daughter's husband was not much older than her.

Although my mother treats my wife as her daughter, you do not treat me as your son.

He looked at him, pleading in his mind for advice. For the support he had never experienced from his father. For strength.

Borros finally nodded, swallowing hard.

"We need to plan all this carefully." He said, turning after a moment to the servants standing at the entrance. "Inform the sub-commanders to begin preparations for the march on the Eyrie. They are to be ready before nightfall arrives."

Aemond looked at him wide-eyed, not believing what he said.

He supported him.

He supported him in front of everyone. He showed no hesitation even though he could, despite the risks he was taking on himself and his firstborn son.

He did what his own father could not.

He did not let him down.

He lowered his gaze at the thought of what he had said to him and felt ashamed.

However, it was too late.

For the next few hours they talked without any interruption about the plan of action, explaining exactly the order in which they would carry out each step. Aemond and Daeron were to fly to the front of the army under cover of darkness, attacking only at the Eyrie. At their cue, their army was to take the attack by storm.

When all was clear and decided, Borros came out of the tent saying that he needed to speak to his daughter. Aemond felt a tightening in his stomach and looked at Royce, who threw him a hateful glance.

He knew that Royce did not agree with his decision, that he thought he was leading them to their deaths, to unnecessary suffering for a king-drinker and rapist.

However, he did not say a word because he was true to his father. Because he was a good son who loved and respected his sire. He felt a sudden stab of jealousy at this thought and lowered his gaze, ashamed.

Once everyone had left he looked at his little brother and saw that he was pale, his lips tightened into line. He put his hand on his shoulder, wanting to give him encouragement.

"We're going to do this together. You and me." He said calmly, and his brother looked at him, fear and gratitude in his eyes at the same time.

Daeron surprised him completely when he suddenly hugged him and he froze, not knowing what to do. He thought with pain that his brother was in fact still a child, and he had just told him that he would go into battle with him in the front line, that everything depended on their success.

He gave him a strong hug and felt his brother tremble. He pressed his lips together, thinking reproachfully that all his life he had been afraid to show any weakness, but now that he was holding his terrified younger brother in his embrace he realised that there was nothing in it to belittle him and he himself felt better with the fear that filled his heart.

Daeron, clearly ashamed of his momentary weakness and the reactions of his body that he could not control let him go, grunted and said he would go and get ready.

Aemond went to the table, took a piece of parchment and quickly wrote a letter, which he rolled up. He called a servant and told him that the message was to be delivered as soon as possible to the king himself before the evening.

After everything was done, he went outside, feeling strangely heavy and tired, his stomach, heart and throat unpleasantly compressed. He entered the tent and saw his wife snuggled up to her father, a stream of tears on her face. Her father was embracing her as his father-king had never embraced him.

Tenderly, with care, warmth, love and attention.

Borros kissed her hair and let her go, heading for the exit, and she led him away with terrified eyes, her lips slightly parted in helplessness. She looked at him suddenly, and he felt crushed under the weight of that gaze.

He was leaving her.

He was leaving her, never to return perhaps.

He looked at her figure, which seemed to him even tinier than usual, her hand placed on her womb as if to protect their child from his decision, from what was about to happen. He approached her slowly and stepped over her, looking down at her.

"If I do not return, you will do whatever Rheanyra wants. You will bend the knee. Do you understand?" He asked coolly, feeling his lower lip tremble as he spoke the words.

She would not burn with him.

Even if he died, she was going to live.

She shook her head, looking at him with wide eyes as if she did not understand the meaning of the words she had just heard, a tear involuntarily flowed from the corner of her eye.

"Daemon has a weakness for you, moreover you are pregnant. You will say that I forced you and according to his will you tried to convince me to change my mind. If your father and brother survive, also let them submit to the will of him and my sister. I will not consider this a betrayal against me." He spoke the last sentence in a whisper, grasping her red, wet face in his hands with a gentleness he would not have suspected himself of a year earlier.

"− don't leave me here −" She mumbled with difficulty, her throat tightened, her breathing ragged and loud, shaky. He felt a sting in his heart at this sight.

"− you promised me that after Harrenhal you would never leave me again − take me with you − I want to be by your side − I −" She said suddenly, clamping her hand on the epaulet of his armour, looking at him pleadingly.

She didn't finish because his lips pressed violently into hers drawing a helpless, drawn-out squeal from her, his hands clamped on her hair and neck pulling her to him suddenly, her body slamming against his armour. Their kisses were a mixture of their wet lips, sticky tongues, panting and shuddering cries breaking out again and again from her throat.

She threw her arms around his shoulders, pressing his face closer to hers, seeking comfort in his embrace, in his lips, his breath and his gaze. He pressed his forehead against hers, breathing unevenly, feeling his heart beat hard.

"I want to spend the next few hours with you and our child."

He wasn't sure where her body began and his ended. He was panting with his lips slightly parted as he looked at her with misty eyes, embracing her waist with one hand, the other holding her face close to his as they sat on their bed, his hips moving inside her as she sank and rose on his length. Her movements were slow and tender, not so much seeking fulfilment as craving total closeness, the warmth that only two naked bodies could give each other.

He kissed the salty tears from her cheeks, brushing her nose, her jaw, her neck, trying to remember the sight, to focus only on her and not on what lay ahead. After a while, she stopped moving and just embraced him, pressing her face against his, stroking his cheeks with her fingers. He pulsed hard inside her, but didn't move either. Neither of them was about fulfilment now, and they both knew it.

He hugged her close and she hid her face in the hollow of his neck, her sweat-wet breasts pressed against his chest, her hot womb against his abdomen. She was safe, locked in his embrace, filled to the brim with him.

He wanted to stay with her.

He wanted to be able to be a coward.

To sink into the body of the woman he loved and fall asleep beside her.

But he couldn't.

"Promise me you'll come back to me." She whispered softly, and he pressed his lips together, feeling a tightness in his throat, an unpleasant pain stinging his chest. He was silent for a moment, feeling her whole body tremble with despair in his embrace. He licked his lips before the words left his mouth.

"I promise."

_____

Taglist 1

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @amirawritespoorly @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @diosademuerte @rwdkarla @echos-muses @ipostwhtifeel @letmeloveyouuuu @yentroucnagol @valeskafics @tempt-ress @blairfox4 @crazymusicgirl104 @ahristata @menaosama @ladywin17 @queenofshinigamis @rae-seri @dark-night-sky-99

#dark aemond smut #dark aemond #dark aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell smut #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #hotd smut #aemond targeryen angst #aemond targaryen angst #aemond angst #hotd angst #aemond kinslayer #aemond one eye #aemond #aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond fanfiction #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #aemond the kinslayer #aemond x oc #aemond fic #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell fanfic #aemond fandom #aemond x fem!reader #aemond fanfic #ewan mitchell fandom #house of the dragon fandom #hotd fandom

[julemmaes]

Always Been You

Nesta Archeron x Cassian, ~2.5k words

a/n: I saw a reel of a baby and this was born, it's trash but I love them, so enjoy!

"Sweetheart, do you know where my sweater is?! The black one?"

Cassian was rummaging through his wardrobe in desperate need of something heavy to wear in the frigid winter Velaris was hitting them with.

Nesta's robotic voice came from the speaker of his phone, hidden somewhere between his bed sheets. "Uh, might be here, actually."

Here, as in her place. On the other side of the city. More than half an hour from his flat.

He groaned, bending his head forward and halting his hunt.

"Care to tell me why yet another piece of clothing of mine is at yours?"

Nesta chuckled, rejoicing in his despair. He glared at the phone, thankful that his best friend couldn't see him and level him with an equally nasty look.

Her words came muffled this time, more distant, and Cassian knew he'd put him on speaker.

"Not my fault this time. You used it to wrap Little Miss Sunshine up," he couldn't help the smile at the nickname he used to call her daughter. "You claimed she was gonna be too cold on the oh so long way from your car to the door."

"Sounds like something I would do," he muttered to himself, a dopey grin on his lips still. He loved that little nug of happiness that was Nesta's daughter. He loved her as if she were his own.

He shook his head, focusing on the date ahead, and put on another sweater, of a light brown colour he despised, and shook out his duvet, fishing for the phone.

Turning off the speaker, he put it to his ear, "You think I could pass by after the pub?"

Nesta only hummed, seeming distracted.

A few beat of silence, "What is the girl's name again?"

Cassian clenched his jaw, pondering whether he should lie or not, and knowing full well that if he gave Nesta too much information she would stalk the poor lady till sunrise.

"Her name is Anne," he lied.

"Liar," she scoffed. Then she grunted, "Whatever, keep your secrets. But don't come crying to me when you'll find out she has a secret dark past as a pig slaughterer."

Cassian laughed, "You're so dramatic."

"And you love it." She couldn't even begin to understand just how true those words were. "Now leave me alone before you're late to the party."

Nesta didn't give him the time to say goodbye that she'd hung up.

***

Slamming the door and closing himself shut in his precious, silent car, Cassian finally got to open his texts app and check what Nesta had sent him mere minutes before.

The date hadn't gone terribly, but Lidia was not his type. And he wasn't hers.

That had been starkly clear after the first fifteen minutes they'd spent talking about a new friend of hers, a certain Ruhn that she'd been crushing on for a while now.

He was her type. He and him only.

She had apologised, and Cassian had laughed, confessing that he had been forced into this date by his brothers, who were so over seeing him brooding because he was single and they were married and with kids.

Their words, not his.

Because in reality, Cassian was happy.

He was happy waiting for his friend to notice he was there for her, when she decided she was gonna have him.

He was happy splitting his time between his own apartment and Nesta's, whenever Logan requested his presence. Which nowadays bordered on always.

Exactly why he wasn't surprised when, opening his thread with Nesta, he found a video of the little girl, now almost one year and a half old.

A weak smile blossomed on his face as he clicked on it.

Nesta was lying on her side, her right arm under Little Lo's head and the baby was looking up at the ceiling, probably staring at the bioluminescent stars he had glued there.

He didn't press play immediately, because the picture of his best friend's half face was too distracting.

Nesta wasn't even fully in the frame, but Cassian wasn't seeing anything else. Her lips were tugged on a corner, a half smile there as she cuddled with her daughter. Her nose glimmered with moisturizing cream, something he knew she put on every night before bed. Her eyes were hidden, out of the picture.

He could have killed, if it meant the promise of tracing his finger down the nape of her perfect nose, to her lips and chin. Of caressing her jaw, holding her face in his hands.

He would have killed to taste those lips, even once.

Taking a deep breath and pretending he wasn't unsettled by the mere thought of touching Nesta, he pressed play and his heart clenched in his chest.

"Da-da, dada, da-da-da-da," Logan was simply calling out for him, basically whispering in the quiet room, brushing her fingers on her lips. "Dadadadada, dada."

His eyes stung lightly and his pinched the tip of his nose, reigning in his emotions.

The little girl turned to the phone once she noticed her mom was recording her and the smile she gave him ended him. Lo yawned in the most cute and tiny way on video and Cassian's stomach tightened to the point of pain.

He loved her.

She smacked the phone from Nesta's hand, calling for her dada once again and everything went black for a few seconds.

The moment colours and pictures came back up, it was Nesta's face smiling at him, now sitting with a writhing Lo saying his name over and over again.

Nesta tilted her head to the side, avoiding being smacked in the face by the baby, "I need you to come here asap. This little beast won't go to bed unless she hears her favourite uncle's lullaby."

Uncle.

The video ended with an otherworldly screech from Logan and Cassian turned off the screen, throwing the phone on the seat, a weird kind of sorrow pulling at his heart.

Uncle.

Nesta had this bad habit of calling him uncle whenever Logan insisted on calling him dada, or dad, or any other way that pointed to the girl thinking he was her father.

And he couldn't be mad. Fuck, he couldn't do shit about it if not accepting the fact that that was the truth.

Logan wasn't his daughter and the only reason they had stopped trying to make her call him anything but dada was because of the meltdowns she had whenever they did.

She was definitely too little still to understand what they were saying, but she rejected the idea anyway. It was like trying to take her favourite toy away.

Putting the car in reverse, he drove out of the parking spot and on the road, hoping Lo would still be awake once he got to their house.

He tried to keep his thoughts at bay as much as he could, failing miserably.

Cassian wanted in on their life. Cassian wanted to be part of it, every morning he wanted to wake up next to them and love them the way they deserved all day long and at night he wanted to hold them tightly to him and fall asleep again. And do it all over again the next day.

For the rest of his life.

He didn't have a single dream or goal that topped this one.

And he was so tired to pretend anything else was more important to him.

***

He cupped the chubby rosy cheek with his palm, passing his thumb over her eyebrow over and over again, watching the way her tiny, tiny lips moved in her sleep, as if she was latching. Logan's little body twitched in his arms, and Cassian repositioned, hoping not to disturb her too much.

Her minuscule hand clutched his shirt and she rubbed her face in the niche of his elbow.

He lowered just enough to place a kiss on her forehead and the small sigh she released did something to him.

He was so focused on memorizing every little detail on her baby face—knowing perfectly well how fast she was growing—that he hadn't noticed Nesta standing just outside the nursery door.

"I'm happy she has you," she whispered.

Cassian didn't look up from Logan, too afraid of his own feelings, which were riding rampant in his mind tonight.

"I'm glad she..." Nesta paused, drew a deep breath and stepped inside. She sat next to him on the fluffy couch and pulled her legs up to her chest.

He hoped she didn't feel him tense when she leaned against him, her head on his shoulder as she put her hand on Logan's belly.

"I'm glad she can count on somebody else. That is not me."

Cassian paused his face massage, sliding his hand under Logan's head and moving so her neck wasn't straining. He fixed his gaze on the floor, not daring moving a muscle.

"Sometimes I think I'm fucking everything up by not actively looking for someone that would step up as her dad, but–"

Nesta moved again, pressing closer to him, moving her hand from Lo to his arm. He knew that if he looked at her, even if he just turned her way, he would kiss her.

When she spoke again, her voice was trembling slightly and Cassian's heart was threatening beating out of his chest.

"What I'm trying to say is, thank you. For being here for her."

He stayed silent, not knowing what to say. He just resumed tracing lines on Lo's cheekbones, something that never failed to soothe her before bed and that knocked her out almost immediately.

It was a long time before he found the courage to talk.

"Nesta, I–"

Or maybe not.

What if he fucked everything up?

What if he was reading her wrong, and all of this was just in his head?

"Yes, Cassian?" She whispered.

He took a shaking breath, closing his eyes, and said, "I don't wanna be her uncle."

The words were out now. And he couldn't seem to be able to stop them.

"And I don't want you to text me during a date that you can't get her to sleep because she needs me to sing to her. I don't wanna have to drive all the way down here every other day because you might need something from me. And it's frustrating when I'm at home and I wanna eat something, just to remember that I bought it for your place and not mine. And don't even get me started on my clothes. Half of my wardrobe is in this house, as far as I know."

Nesta retracted from him so fast that his head whipped her way. He missed her warmth on the spot.

She was looking at him like she'd hit her. Her brow was furrowed and her eyes were shiny, watering with unshed tears.

His throat closed, "Nes, what–"

"I'm sorry we're such a fucking problem to you," she hissed, doing a piss poor job at hiding the hurt.

Cassian's eyes widened with horror, "Problem? What are you talking about?"

She didn't give any sign she'd heard him, "If it's such a pain in your ass driving here just to make her happy, then don't. I annoy you with my texts, I'll stop texting, no big deal." She was heaving now, emotion and exhaustion from a long day taking over. "And you can get your food and your clothes and get the fuck out of here and never come back for all I care. But you could've told me sooner that we were such a bother to you, I'd have kept her from getting so attached."

Cassian was moving before he knew what he was doing.

One second he was on one side of the couch, looking baffled and confused for all the shit that she was spitting at him, the next he was on her, Logan's body close to his chest as he lunged for Nesta's lips.

He moved his hand to her hair, sliding his fingers to the back of her neck, pushing her towards him. He closed his eyes, savouring the plush touch of her mouth on his for the first time.

Taking in everything she was giving him.

Nesta didn't react immediately, but as soon as she realized what was happening she melted into the kiss, backing away slightly before going back for more.

Her hands went to his face, cradling his neck and bringing him impossibly closer to her, as much as she could without hurting her daughter, and Cassian soared.

They both lost track of time before they stopped, never going far. Nesta pushed her forehead against his, brushing her nose sweetly to his.

"Explain," she breathed out.

He chuckled, stunned, "I want her to call me dad, dada, daddy, whatever she prefers. I wanna be there for her, I'm happy to be there for her." He started, leaving a kiss on her lips.

Nesta turned her head sideways, keeping the contact with him, "Focus."

"I hate driving up here every day because I wish I didn't have to go back to my house. It's just another reminder that I'm a guest, someone that is temporarily here.

"I forget I bought food and brought it here because I eat basically all of my meals with you girls, and I want the entirety of my wardrobe to be in this home. I hate going back there. It's lonely. And I want to be here. All the time.

"I want this to be my permanent home. I want you to be my permanent home."

Nesta was keeping her eyes closed, but a tear was running down her cheek. He swiped it away with a thumb, and then passed his fingertip to her lips.

"Cassian," she said.

He kissed her again, a slow, full-of-love peck on her lips.

He inhaled, "I love you, Nesta, and there's literally no other place I'd rather be, than here with you and Logan."

She opened her eyes then and let him in, at last. She let him see the love there, the wanting and longing that had been eating at them both for years.

But they were done running.

"It's always been you," she said, running a soft hand down his cheek.

Cassian nodded, nuzzling her palm, "It's always been you."

acotar tag list (if you wanna be added or removed just dm me or send an ask)

@my-fan-side @superspiritfestival @simpingfornestaarcheron @the-regal-warrior @princess-rumi-blog1 @live-the-fangirl-life @sayosdreams @rowaelinismyotp @swankii-art-teacher @bookstantrash @lordof-bloodshed @nahthanks @sannelovesreading @courtofjurdan @imagine-me @moodymelanist @dread3r @sv0430 @mariamuses @leiawritesstories @thewayshedreamed @duskandstarlight @letstakethedawn @perseusannabeth

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #nesta has a kid cause you all know I clearly have issues with kids fics #domestic fluff #slight angst very slight compared to my usual

[jokeringcutio]

I see you have Crimson Peak listed for fics 👀

Picture this: Sir Thomas Sharpe doesn't have a sister and was never abused, therefore never got into the black widower routine. He's just a struggling inventor in London to wrangle investors for his machine because he's the last of his crumbling family line.

Reader is an heiress who rarely gets out because she's anxious and prone to panic attacks. Quite a sweet and pretty girl, but her parents are ashamed of her and hide her away.

Anyway there's a Halloween masquerade being held in town and both reader and Thomas attend (whether they sneak in or not is up to you) and they meet. They both feel more at home with each other than anyone else in the city, and start seeing each other secretly and fall in love.

Up to you if he asks permission to marry her or they elope and the parents pay to cover it up, but they get married and use her money to fund his inventions and fix up crimson peak. And have kid(s) to continue the family line.

A happy romantic story for two sweet and ignored people 🥰 (smut scene if you wanna, but it should be romantic)

-🐀

AN: Follow me for more Halloween Reader Inserts. More stories will follow this month.

Sir Thomas Sharpe x Reader – Halloween (Sweet AU) Fandom: Crimson Peak Pairing: Sir Thomas Sharpe x Reader Rating: Teen Summary:  AU in which Sir Thomas Sharpe never had his sister corrupt him and meets Reader at a Halloween masquerade.

Warnings: None Really. Romance. Talk about marriage and kids. Drama. Tiny bit of Angst? Sorry it was written in a rush. Possible Cameo for Albert Shaw.

Charity

In the comfort of your tower chamber, you stood, gazing out of the circle-top window at the people who passed in the streets below. You didn’t feel the need to be among them, content to be up here by yourself in a room full of comfort and little knick-knacks. You had your peace and quiet and you were content with it.

The wealth you had been born in, and the hefty salary that your parents paid you each month, was enough to ensure you wouldn’t have to lift a finger for the entirety of your life. Rich, others would call you. But if they could see your bedroom they might doubt that you were.

You didn’t feel the need for all the lavishness that money could grant you. You hardly spent a dime other than the usual necessities. Material possessions had little interest for you. Instead, you found solace in spending your money on charity, giving away some of your income to charities on a steady base.

It was almost fitting, then, that your heart would be captured by a man who was once a charity case himself.

You met him during one of the few occasions where you were allowed to venture out of your tower where your parents usually kept you locked away… like a secret. They were ashamed because you were still a spinster in your twenties. And you could not blame them. People looked at you oddly and whispered behind your back in the streets. And so you didn’t want to go out and be among them any longer, hiding yourself much to your parents’ relief.

But there were such occasions where you would go out. Usually small balls or events with family and close friends. Sometimes, to bigger events where you knew that people would not be able to recognize you.

You feared their reactions if they saw you, feared what they would say or do.

The yearly Halloween Masquerade was an event you dreaded. The stuffy ballroom, the leering gazes, the suffocating press of bodies all around - it threatened to bring forth the panic attacks that plagued your life. Yet tonight, as you stood at the edge of the dance floor, your eyes took in the beautiful sight of the latest fashion dresses and suits. Beautiful women and men danced together, their masks hiding their faces, yet they grew intimate in their dance. You wondered how it felt, had done so for a while, but at the same time weren’t keen to experience it yourself.

You tried to hide away, to not be noticed, despite the dress you wore; the silken emerald fabric hugged your curves and cascaded down to the floor, shimmering with each movement. The intricate golden mask on your face only partially concealed your identity, but it was enough to give you a fleeting sense of anonymity. People still stopped to ask you for a dance. Men still stopped.

You disliked their leering gazes, the way their eyes seemed to undress you from behind the masks. And so you tried your best to avoid dancing with them. Their intentions were clear, and you were not interested in any of them. Your heart raced, anxiety clawing its way up your throat. If only this evening could come to an end.

And then, a familiar face appeared among the crowd. Your savior. Giselle, one of the few friends you had, came rushing towards you in a gown matching your own. Her wide smile a beacon of relief.

"Would you care to dance?" she asked, her eyes twinkling behind her mask. Finally, you were rescued.

Gratitude surged through you, and a genuine smile bloomed on your face. "I'd love to."

As you danced with Giselle, the familiar pressure in your chest began to dissipate. Her laughter, light and carefree, seemed to chase away the shadows that clung to your heart. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you allowed yourself to enjoy the sensation of being alive. And you laughed; a pure, wholehearted smile.

Your joy was noted.

As you and Giselle danced, you felt the burning gaze of someone on your form. You carefully started to glance around.

“What are you doing?” Giselle asked, having noticed how your eyes traced the room.

“Someone’s watching me,” you mumbled, just loud enough for your voice to be carried over the tones of the music.

Giselle chuckled as she spun you around gracefully. “Of course, people are watching us,” she said, a sneer appeared on her face. “The Duke of Sparington has been trying to get my attention all evening. I’m so glad to get away. The guy’s in his forties and already has two kids and a tummy like a barrel. If I were to marry him he’d kill me in his sleep just by rolling over and ending on top of me.”

At this, you couldn’t help but laugh again, even though Giselle seemed to be grimacing at your reaction. It was obvious that she was repulsed by the man who had decided to chase her.

“Tell me, for the love of God,” you started, “That your parents won’t allow the match.”

But Giselle sighed deeply. “They’re much like yours,” she muttered, squeezing your hand a little too tightly as you continued the dance. “Eager to have me wed, even though they said to have given up on me already.”

Your eyes turned wide. “Well, you must convince them to hand you to another. If not younger, then at least thinner so you won’t be suffocated during your night’s rest.”

Giselle grinned at this, appreciating the joke. But you knew her situation was slightly different than yours. Albeit having been born in money pretty much like you had, Giselle’s dowry wasn’t nearly as large as yours. And her parents could not hide her away like yours had with you. The day for her to marry seemed to be closing in with each passing year.

You dreaded the thought.

If only we could marry for love, you thought solemnly. You held Giselle’s hand in your own as you spun around the room. And as the music swelled, your eyes drifted across the ballroom, settling on a figure who stood in stark contrast to the colorful array of masks and costumes. He was tall, slender yet muscular, clad in black as though he were an ethereal shadow amidst the sea of gaiety. His piercing blue eyes seemed to draw you in, ensnaring you with their intensity.

You couldn't look away. It was as if an invisible thread connected you both, pulling tighter with each passing second. Desire coursed through your veins, leaving you breathless. The world around you blurred, leaving only the two of you locked in this magnetic dance of longing.

This was the man who had been watching you. This was the gaze you had felt all along.

"Your turn," Giselle whispered, releasing your hand. It was then that the dark stranger approached, his movements fluid and graceful as he closed the distance between you.

"May I have this dance?" His voice was soft, yet carried an undertone of command.

"Of course," you breathed, entranced by the mysterious man before you. As he took your hand, electricity sparked between you, igniting a fire deep within your soul.

"Thomas Sharpe," he introduced himself as the two of you began to sway to the music. His low voice sent a shiver of pleasure down your spine.

Your bodies moved in perfect harmony as if you'd danced together countless times before. He was good, you noticed. Kept his rhythm well and moved fluently, despite his tall height and rather stiff appearance. This mysterious man took you by surprise completely.

You whispered your name and gazed up at the masked stranger. His blue eyes seemed warm as they lay upon you, peering through the holes of the black and blue mask. The silver lines only emphasized the blue of his eyes, making him seem more like a spirit than a man. Could he be real?

“I haven’t seen you here before,” you murmured, weakly, as you tried to focus on the steps you took with your feet. Focusing was hard, because Thomas’s scent and warmth distracted you, and brought your mind to places your mother would describe as the gutter.

How did this man manage to bring about such wicked thoughts, you wondered? Especially now that you could not even see his full face?

“Ah, yes. That is because I am not from around here,” Thomas replied, and that would explain it all. During your years living here, you’d become familiar with most faces of the high society. And many of them you wished you’d never seen. “I’m only visiting shortly in an attempt to raise sponsors willing to support my cause.”

“And what cause is that?” you asked, eyes meeting his as the two of you swayed gently from side to side.

Something in Thomas’s eyes lit up, like the subject you allowed him to talk about brought him real joy. Joy, and something else. Hope, you wondered?

"I'm working on a machine to mine red clay from the earth surrounding my family's estate," Thomas explained, his eyes burning with passion. "I believe it has the potential to bring great wealth, but I'm in desperate need of funding."

Red bells went off inside your mind. Another gold digger, you thought. You’d seen them before, met them before, although they never had such a great impact as Thomas had.

"Red clay?" You frowned, intrigued by the man and his ambitions. Was he not just another suitor seeking your fortune, but someone fueled by dreams and desires much like your own?

"Indeed, it's a valuable resource with numerous applications," he continued, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly. "But my family's fortune has dwindled, and our estate is crumbling,” here he paused, giving you time to think. “I'm determined to restore it to its former glory."

"Tell me more," you urged, your heart pounding as power and desire mingled within you. He was a man of ambition, and you felt drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

As the music played on and the dance floor spun around you, Thomas spoke of his dreams, his lips brushing against your ear with each whispered word. The world outside ceased to exist - it was just you and Thomas, bound together by shared passions and undeniable attraction.

"Thomas," you breathed, feeling as if you were on the brink of something dangerous, yet incredibly thrilling. Your fingers intertwined, creating a bond that seemed unbreakable.

"Time seems to stand still with you," he murmured, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

And in that moment, you knew that your life would never be the same.

Perhaps the decision you took was rash. But you had thought about it, had done so for years before this moment had come. You had refused every man who had come to your door simply because you hadn’t felt that spark. You even had started to think you were incapable of feeling such feelings at all. But then Thomas came onto the scene, and he rose feelings inside of you that you had never felt before.

Love. Lust.

Both feelings combined made you feel powerful and strong. If you could feel this for a man, then surely, you would have to chase the chance to be with him. If he wouldn’t want to have you, then so be it, but you at least had to try. You had always been honest about your feelings and had always listened to your heart when you made decisions.

Your heart raced as you pulled Thomas closer, your fingers entwined like tendrils of ivy. The music swelled around you, a wild torrent that threatened to drown out everything else.

"Thomas," you whispered, voice trembling with emotion. "I... I like you."

The words hung in the air between you, a fragile confession that could shatter at any moment. He looked both elated and afraid, his blue eyes wide and vulnerable. What an odd reaction, you thought, alarmed by the fear you saw in his eyes. Did he not want you? You knew it was only one meeting that you had, a few dances that you shared, but there was that spark. That moment when the two of you had gazed into each other’s eyes and had forgotten the world.

Surely, that must have meant something to him, right?

"Truly?" His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard. But then his grip on you faltered and you whimpered sadly when his arms fell away. A rejection, you thought upset.

"Sweet girl of mine,” Thomas whispered, the affection making you flinch because it felt so right – but you feared that in a moment he would be gone.

“I can’t give you what you need,” Thomas continued, voice laced with pain. As if admitting this hurt him more than you could possibly imagine. His hand reached for yours again, gently holding it.

“I haven't much to offer. My family's fortune is nearly gone, our estate in ruins...You’d be cold and far away from your family, living with a man who is hardly more than a bagger, trying to scrape back his family’s fortune and bringing back some lost glory to the Sharpe’s name."

"None of that matters to me," you assured him, feeling a strange mixture of fear and exhilaration. It was as if you were free-falling, the ground rushing towards you at breakneck speed. “I would like to explore the possibilities of there being an us. Of you being with me.”

But before he could respond, the music screeched to a halt, leaving you breathless and off-balance. Thomas' grip on your hand loosened, and he looked away, his eyes flicking towards the shadows that lingered at the edge of the ballroom.

"Please excuse me," he muttered, slipping away from you like water through your fingers. You watched him go, feeling bereft and adrift in the suddenly too-large room.

"Who was that?" Giselle asked, appearing at your side with a concerned frown. "You look... shaken."

"Thomas Sharpe," you murmured, still searching for him among the swirling throng of dancers. "He just... left."

"Perhaps it's for the best," she suggested, her gaze following yours. "Forget about him, darling. Dance the night away with me instead."

2.

The next day, you found yourself holed up in your tower chamber, the memory of your dance with Thomas haunting your every waking moment. You had inquired after him, researched him, desperate for any scrap of information that might help you understand the man who had so thoroughly captivated you. Luckily, your parents and their servants could provide you with all the information you might need.

"Sir Thomas Sharpe," you whispered to yourself, tracing the letters on the page with your fingertips. "Baronet and engineer."

You learned that his family line was dwindling. He was the last alive, with no heir to carry on the name. His house, once grand and imposing, now lay in ruins - a testament to the passage of time and the ravages of decay. But despite it all, Thomas still dreamed of resurrecting his family's fortune with his ambitious red clay mining project.

And you thought he might be onto something.

With renewed vigor, you set about drawing up plans for his machine, inspired by the conversation you'd shared while dancing. The hours slipped away as you sketched and calculated, determined to lend your own talents to his cause.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you spread the blueprints across the table, studying them with a critical eye. This was something real, something tangible that could bring you closer to the man who had stolen your heart in one dizzying waltz.

"Thomas Sharpe," you murmured again, feeling the name curl around your tongue like a secret. "I'll find you... I promise."

3.

A new day dawned, and you found yourself summoned to the drawing room. The request, although not unusual, surprised you, because your mother demanded you’d be presentable. Fear gripped your heart at that because it could only mean one thing.

A suitor.

And how you dreaded to come face to face with a man whose visage or demeanor repulsed you. Especially now that your mind was set on only one man in the entire universe.

The door creaked open to reveal Thomas standing there in front of your parents, hat in hand, his black coat clinging to his slender frame. His gaze met yours, a piercing blue that sent a shiver down your spine and weakened your knees. This was the first time you properly saw his face and oh-my! He was handsome. More so than you had envisaged him to be in your dreams. It felt as if your heart stopped beating entirely and as if the world froze in a blizzard of roses and butterflies. This man.

But wait, had he come looking for you?

"Miss," he began, his voice soft as silk, "I must confess that ever since our encounter at the masquerade, I have been unable to forget you." There was something gritty about his voice that betrayed the truth of his words. As if he had tried his best to put you out of his mind and had failed.

You liked that, though. You liked the thought of him being unable to forget you. It meant he was as much on your mind as you were on his. Your heart raced at his admission, but you fought to maintain your composure.

Your parents, who had been watching the exchange with keen interest, seemed to light up at the whole display. Your father spoke with enthusiasm, "Sir Thomas Sharpe here asked for your hand in marriage,” he said to you. “I think it would be a wonderful match.”

Your heart skipped a beat as your mother turned to Thomas with a smile. “Sir Thomas, we would be honored to welcome you into our family."

Thomas stood rigidly, and you could have missed the relief that flooded his eyes entirely had you not been looking at them. There was a sudden warmth to his gaze that told you that this was what he had come for.

But at the same time, you felt doubt cling to your heart. You wanted him, but… he stood so rigid, so unmoving. Like a true gentleman, you thought. But were your parents aware of his misfortune, you wondered? Or had he tricked them into making a match? The rich spinster whose parents feel embarrassed, eager to marry her off to a man with a pretty title who seems to have captured their daughter’s heart. The first to have achieved this.

"Mother," you whispered, pulling her aside, and out of the drawing room where you would have a bit of privacy and the men couldn’t hear. "I don't understand. He is poor, why are you encouraging this?"

"Darling," she replied in a hushed tone, her breath warm against your ear, "you have the funds, he has the need. It's your duty to marry and secure our family's future.”

“His house is in shambles, you told me yourself,” you whispered. “Aren’t you afraid he will usurp all of my resources? Have you considered he might only want to marry me because of my wealth?”

But your mother shook her head and smiled. “Listen, dear, Thomas seems to behave like a true gentleman. You could do worse. Besides,” here she paused and you waited full of anticipation to hear what argument she was going to use next, “even if he is poor, he needs an heir. And it is your duty as a woman to continue the line of our family. And quite frankly, I haven’t seen you as interested in a man in all of my life. Just take this opportunity and don’t ruin it. You’re going to be a good mom, give birth to a son to ensure a safe future for yourself and our family, and I will finally have the grandchildren I so desire."

Anger bubbled within you, hot and fierce. You wanted to marry for love, not obligation. And you decided to tell your mother as much.

“I won’t marry just to be a breeding mare,” you hissed. “If I marry it’ll be out of love. Not out of obligation.”

The creaking of the floorboards made you look up in shock to meet deep blue eyes of Thomas as he rounded the corner. How much had he heard? There was a sadness in his eyes that quickly melted into a fierce determination. Oh no, your heart raced as your mind clouded with disastrous scenarios. His face was pale - paler than before - and his eyes widened in shock.

"Thomas," you tried to reach out to him, but he stepped back, the hurt in his eyes unmistakable.

"Forgive me, Miss. Coming here was a mistake. I must take my leave," he said, his voice barely a whisper. And without another word, he left the room, leaving you standing there, heart pounding and mind racing.

“Sir Thomas!” Your mother called out, running after him as fast as her skirts would allow. You knew you’d be in trouble now.

Don’t ruin it, your mother had said, only milliseconds before you’d done just that.  

You watched Thomas go, a flurry of black coat and wounded pride. The memory of his touch, his scent, and his voice haunted you, taunting you with the promise of what could have been. But as the door closed behind him, a cold, hard truth settled in your bones. You had lost him, and it was unlikely you would ever find him again.

4.

Days had passed since your last encounter with Thomas, and the ache in your chest grew stronger. The walls of your chamber felt suffocating, so you defied your parents' wishes and ventured outside into the bustling streets. Your reappearance caused whispers to spread like wildfire; some marveled at your beauty and kindness despite your reclusive nature, while others gossiped about your unmarried status.

Returning home, cheeks flushed from the cool air, your heart sank as you found a man you had known all of your life as Uncle Al - one of your neighbors – speaking to your father in hushed tones. It was apparent he was asking for your hand in marriage.

"Please, sir," the man said, desperation lacing his voice, "I can provide for her."

"Give me away?" You scoffed, anger boiling inside you. "To him?"

The man had known you from when you were a little child and was older than you by far.  You had been shocked by the amount of men at your parents’ door recently, but to see him. The neighbor who had always been so kind to you… It was unsettling.

“You can’t be serious,” you said, uncaring if it hurt the man’s feelings. “He’s nearly as old as you!”

Your father's eyes narrowed, clearly displeased by your outburst. “Nearly as old, perhaps,” he said, voice low like a warning. “But he is a good friend of our family and he deserves a bit of happiness.”

Your neighbor stood up a little straighter, a lustful gleam in his eye as his gaze fell upon you. You felt a shiver run down your spine. No, you thought. No way you’d give him the heirs your mother so wanted. Your heart already belonged to another and you had made up your mind a little while ago.

“And a bit more respect as well, don’t you agree?” The hiss made it clear that your father was not to be argued with, and so you directed your gaze down at the ground and muttered a brief apology.

Al seemed to accept it, for a smile took possession of his lips and he turned back to your father again. “Such an endearing creature,” you heard him say, voice like silk. “Whyever have you kept her away from us for so long?”

Because of this, you thought, sadly. Your parents might have feared this. And with a start, you realized how you had set your own demise into motion. That they hadn’t as much locked you away out of shame as well as to protect you from all the unwanted gazes and proposals of men twice your age or more. They knew you hadn’t wanted to marry and had given you the space. But now, society demands them to hand you over to someone. And who better than a family friend they had known all of their lives?

“It is settled then,” you heard Al say and lifted your gaze to see him shake your father’s hand. Your father forced a smile, though you recognized by now that it did not reach his eyes.

A measurement out of necessity. A must. You thought with a shock. Unable to look at the two men any longer, you turned on your heels and ran away. Your bedroom felt safe, for now, high up in your tower, as you threw yourself upon the bed and clutched your pillows tight.

“Not him,” you breathed through tears. “Not Al.” No matter how kind your neighbor had been when you were smaller, he was old and started to grey. He wasn’t nearly as tall as Thomas and didn’t have the same voice or scent.

And there he was again. Thomas never seemed to leave your mind.

After you calmed down enough, you pushed yourself off the bed. Your chest heaved with fury as you went to stare out the window, your breath fogging the cold glass.

You weren’t looking at anything in particular when your gaze fell upon the familiar figure of Thomas across the street. You’d been occupied with your own thoughts, and it took you a few seconds before you realized that your gazes had crossed. All this time you had been searching for him. You knew he was still in the area, knew he had made visits to unsuccessfully gain sponsors to fund his work. But you’d never been able to catch sight of him. And here he was, underneath your window, staring at you from across the street with silent admiration.

How long had he been there?

Your heart leaped. Not wasting another second, you rushed down the stairs and outside, the door slamming behind you.

"Thomas!" You called, seeing how he had turned and was walking away from you. Despite the street being busy this time of the day, you followed his tall shape, running past people and making your way zigzagging through the crowd. The top hat he wore indicated where he went. “Thomas, wait!”

But he kept walking. And just when you started to get out of breath, you saw him come to a standstill. Relieved, you caught your breath and ran towards him. It was as if he waited for you, standing tall and proud, his back still turned towards you. Then he slowly turned around to face you, a sad expression marred his features. His blue eyes were full of turmoil.

"Dear girl,” he murmured, his blue eyes shimmering with unspoken emotions. "I know you must think me a monster, standing underneath your window like I have…”

You shook your head fiercely. “No, not at all,” you breathed.

“I must confess, I have been watching you more frequently these days. I tried to forget, but… I felt drawn to your window more and more, just to catch a glimpse of you,” Thomas admitted, silently. He hung his head in shame. But his blue eyes were kept firmly upon you. “My heart still beats for you."

His admission sent shivers down your spine, your desire for him growing stronger like a moth drawn to a flame.

Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him into a hug. Surprise was visible on his face, but only for a moment. Then, he carefully wrapped his arms around you, holding you in an embrace.

“When I said I would not marry out of obligation, I also said I wanted to marry out of love,” you whispered, aware that Thomas could hear. “It is you I have always been waiting for. I want no other.”

Thomas pulled away from the embrace and looked deep into your eyes, searching for any hint of hesitation or doubt. He found none.

He slowly leaned in and pressed his lips against yours, his hands gently caressing your face. The kiss was soft and tender but quickly intensified. As you pulled away, the hunger in your eyes was evident. Without saying a word, you grabbed Thomas's hand, the warmth of his touch igniting a fire within you.

You led Thomas back to your home. “You must talk to my father again,” you said, still holding his hand in your own. You could feel his eyes upon you, burning with desire. “He just gave me away to another.”

“Another?” Thomas sounded as if he hardly could believe his ears, and you felt how his grip on your hand inadvertently intensified. Once he noticed his bodily reaction, he looked ashamed at your joined hands and relieved some of the pressure, holding your hand gently again.

“I said I wouldn’t, but,” you hesitated, chewing your lip pensively as the both of you stood in front of your parents’ home, glancing up at the tower that you slept in. “Since I have been going out, people have started to notice me.”

You turned to Thomas, eyes locking, and found a look of wonder in his. “A spinster,” you clarified, gently squeezing his hand. “Society has been building up pressure until my father had to relent. I need to be married for the honor of the family name.”

“Then lead me inside,” Thomas said, voice hoarse, almost as if there was a hidden second layer to his words. Inside, it purred inside your mind. Yes, that was where you wanted him. In you, around you, part of you. And so, you led him inside, determined to make your parents see reason. As you entered the parlor, their disapproving eyes bore into you.

"Father, Mother, look who I have brought home," you said, their heads turning to look at the two of you in wonder. There you stood, hand in hand with the man of your dreams. Thomas’s eyes were glinting, a tremble to his smile. Hope, that was the right word. He radiated hope.

"Thomas?" Your father sounded surprised. "The struggling inventor?"

“Sir Thomas Sharpe,” Thomas said firmly, taking you and your parents by surprise. “I might lack the funds for the comfort your daughter deserves, but I have an abundance of love for her. I asked you before and I beg you to consider me again. Annul the agreement with the other suitor to her hand. Your daughter and I are in love. And I will pledge to keep her safe and care for your daughter and our children, if we are blessed to have any, until the end of my days.”

The speech was long, heart-warming, and rendered you speechless. As you watched Thomas he seemed to transform into something else, something ethereal. A glowing creature, full of power and passion. It only confirmed the choice you had made.

Your parents stood there, silently, But you could tell by their faces that they were deep in thought.

"His heart is true, and he loves me," you insisted, gripping Thomas's hand even tighter. "Do you not wish for my happiness?"

A tense silence filled the room until your mother finally spoke, her voice barely audible. "Very well, we shall accept his proposal."

Relief washed over Thomas's face, his eyes brimming with gratitude and love. The weight of your decision hung in the air, heavy but necessary. And that night you had your first meal together. The next morning was spent walking and chatting, getting to know each other a little better.

And as the days passed by, you had no regrets.

Months later, with your dowry spent on tools and materials, you watched as Thomas began to build his machines according to a combination of your designs and his own. His hands, once soft and delicate, grew calloused as he toiled away in his workshop. You watched from the shadows, pride swelling in your chest as his dreams slowly came to life.

Life in your new home wasn't easy; the roof leaked, the walls were damp, and the cold seeped through every crack. But together, you made it work. When you discovered you were pregnant, the hardships only intensified. You were sick quite often and with no servants to tend to your needs, you had to do everything around the house yourself. You fell ill during pregnancy, running a fever that made Thomas fear for both your life as well as that of your unborn child. But you survived and got better. And despite the challenges, love kept you warm. Your shared passion was like an inferno against the bitterness of the world.

By the time your child arrived, a fragile, wailing bundle, Thomas's business had begun to flourish. You supported him unwaveringly, standing by his side as he navigated the treacherous waters of entrepreneurship.

"Thank you, my love," he murmured one night as you lay entwined beneath threadbare blankets, your child nestled between you. "Without you, none of this would be possible."

"Thank you," you whispered back, tears glistening in the moonlight. "For giving me a life worth living."

Slowly but surely, Thomas's business continued to grow, allowing you to repair your home and provide for your growing family. Life was still tough, but it was a life filled with love, laughter, and the knowledge that you had chosen the right path.

And so, with your children surrounding you, you lived out your days as a happy family, bound together by the unyielding force of love, triumphing against all odds.

~ Fin ~

AN: Liked my work? :) ♡ Support me on Ko-Fi ♡ Love you all

#sir thomas sharpe #Sir thomas sharpe x you #reader x thomas sharpe #thomas sharpe #thomas sharpe x reader #crimson peak fanfiction #enjoy the romance #sweet fanfic #tom hiddleston x reader

[written-in-flowers]

After Tonight...(AemondxReader)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x plussize!reader

Genre: Smut, fluff, childhood friends to lovers,

Word Count: 4k 

Warnings! :oral sex (m and f receiving/giving), fingering, gagging, slight choking, creampie, roleplay(?), multiple orgasms. 

Summary: After a false compliment reignites tensions, you confront your husband about his actions. He confronts you about something else.

A/N: finally, a fic of my own design! Lol, it’s really just smut tbh. Hope you guys like it, and feedback’s always appreciated <3 

****

“How could you say something like that? In front of those people? Are you mad?” 

You rounded on him the moment you sent your servants away. Aemond stood on the other side of the room, pouring himself a cup of wine and taking a drink. You wanted to smack it from his hand. You took in your husband’s cool and collected demeanor from across the room. Long silver hair tossed back over his shoulders, a glint of amusement in his single pale blue eye made you even more upset. 

“Is this amusing to you?” you asked, glaring at him. “Do you find it amusing that you’ve broken any form of peace we might’ve had with-”

“-Oh, what peace, Y/N? Those people have no desire for peace with us,” he said, continuing to drink and not looking at you. “Did you see their faces?” he asked in a chuckle, malice glinting in his eye. “Hilarious.”

“It was not hilarious,” you retorted. “Your father asked for all of us to sup together and make amends. It’s the only way to stop all this infighting and squabbling. Rhaenyra will be queen someday whether you like it or not. Your father named her heir to the throne. I think it’d be best if we started meding bonds with her instead of burning them, before she decides-”

“-My father named her heir before he had Aegon,” he replied coolly, standing by the table, firm and still with his feet apart. “He didn’t think he'd remarry until he married my mother. He had no choice. The realm forced his hand, so he named her his heir. Then he had Aegon, and Aegon should’ve become his rightful heir. Her and her Strong boys have taken that from us.”

‘Strong boys’. The two words that ignited the kindling fires beneath the table. You scoffed, shaking your head, “Do not pretend as if that is what made you act, Aemond,” you snorted. “All because the boy laughed in your direction?” you saw his pointed avoidance of your gaze. “Luke wasn’t laughing at you, Aemond. He was laughing at the pig.”

“No, he was laughing at you.” You heard the growl in your husband’s voice. “That little bitch Rhaena muttered something to him, looked at you, and laughed. I won’t tolerate it.” 

You should’ve expected as much. Many boys at court poked fun at you for your size. You’d always had your wide hips, thick thighs, fatty arms and stomach since you were small. Your mother thought sending you to court might curb your appetite, but anxiousness made you eat more. You’ve tried. You honestly had, if not for yourself then for Aemond. Tough, strong, intimidating warriors like him should have pretty, slim wives who light up rooms with their smiles and are the envy of everyone at court. He never cared what other people said; you tried feeling the same, yet the creeping sensation that you simply weren’t enough came. Prince Aemond Targaryen could have his pick of any woman in Westeros, but, instead he married you. The girl Aegon, Jace and little Luke made jokes about behind her back. You pushed aside these feelings, poured your own wine and forced yourself to swallow it. 

“The jests of a boy mean nothing to me.” You hesitated, brief flashes of memories coming to you. 

You recalled the roasted pig the servants placed in front of you both. Yes, how witty. So witty. You rolled your eyes. It reminded you of the Pink Dread they’d presented Aemond with in their youth. A large pig they’d gotten from the pen with dragons wings tied to its sides, Aemond told you about it during a walk you took together. He’d initially had trouble taming a dragon to bond with. All the Targaryens ride dragons, and your husband suffered teasing and bullying for not having his own. You supposed the Pink Dread coupled with being betrothed to you caused double the damage. 

A sinking feeling came through your chest as the realization came. How must it feel for you? Jace and Luke only laughed whenever Aegon made snide comments about you. They’d done worse to Aemond. They’d blinded him. You couldn’t imagine the pain it must’ve brought him seeing them again after so many years. Instant guilt filled your stomach, taking up any room your wine might’ve filled. 

“I’m sorry, my love,” you said, looking into your cup. “I can’t imagine how you must be feeling. After all the cruel jokes and then what happened with your eye…” you shook your head, “I’m being so selfish.”

You felt his eyes on you as you looked away from him. People often stared at Aemond when he walked into rooms. They saw him as a sort of monster, to be feared and never approached. So, he played into that. He became a fierce warrior and battle tactician. You knew he overheard the men in the training yard: “Aemond would’ve made a great fighter, but that eye’s gonna work against him”. He hated the stares. He hated the whispers. You worried that dinner would set him off, but you’d insisted you both attend. You’d seen him grinding his teeth, and staring daggers into the two boys in front of him. Gentle squeezes of his hand, and reassurances did nothing to calm your husband’s simmering anger. He never forgave easily, and he never forgot a slight whether real or imagined. 

“I’m sorry I pushed you to go to dinner,” you said. “I knew it’d be difficult for you, but it’s the last supper we might ever have with your father, and I knew it’d make him happy to have you there. I should’ve suggested we leave or use one of the children as a reason to-”

“-I’m not upset we went. I’m glad. You have nothing to apologize for, Wife.” 

‘Wife’. The word still held sway over you six years and two children later. 

“You look beautiful tonight,” he told you, softness and love behind his words. You heard him step over to you, stopping until he was inches away from you. “This dress…” you felt warm hands start at your hips and slide up your sides, kneading at the rolls there, “Did you mean to tempt me with it?”

A slight warmth came to your cheeks. You’d worn a dress of dark blue-green silk with gold embroidered birds, flowers and vines along the seams. You admitted it was a bit lower cut than you’d originally intended. Your bosom pushed against the neckline, but you managed to not let it spill over. Sitting on his good eye’s side, he would’ve seen you perfectly. You’d tied up your hair with the silver comb Aemond gifted you for your nameday. It matched the sapphire he wore in place of his missing eye. He said he liked it when your jewels matched his. Had you worn it hoping it’d stir desire in your husband? Yes. Always. You hoped in vain it might distract him from any rash actions he might make. 

“You know how much I love this gown,” you said innocently. “It’s one of my favorites.”

“Or,” he brushed his lips against your ear, “You wanted me to rip it from you and ravage you as I do whenever you wear it…”

You giggled, but simply stayed in his arms as he began kissing at your neck. Nimble fingers deftly untied your dress. “You better hope your father doesn’t hear what you said tonight,” you said, knowing he wasn’t really listening, “He’ll be so upset.”

“I only paid them a compliment,” he replied, pushing your sleeves down your arms. “It’s not my fault if they think they’re not strong.”

“That is not what you meant, and you know it,” you accused. 

“It is no secret what they are,” he said. “You’ve seen them.”

Yes, you have seen them. Jacaryes and Luceryes should’ve had the dark skin of their Velaryon father or the coloring of their silver-haired Targaryen mother. Instead, the two princes had brown hair and dark eyes; much like that of Harwin Strong, the former commander of the city watch. The sworn sword and champion of Princess Rhaenyra. But, nobody dared to say it out loud; it was an act of treason. For your husband to say it, even laced in a false compliment, soured things quickly. You had no real love for their family, but you’d promised your mother-in-law you’d keep things civil. You congratulated Rhaena and Baela on their betrothals to Jace and Luke. You asked Jace how his Valryian lessons were coming along, and asked Baela about going on at Driftmark. You wanted to be friends with them, putting aside the bitter memories of your youth. 

Once your dress fell at your feet, Aemond worked on the lacings of your undergarments. The thin layer of cloth kept Aemond’s hands from your delicate skin. You could feel every digit caressing your body, molding it and pressing on points he knew made you gasp. You turned to face him, staring into his face and seeing the lust in his eyes. Carefully, you cupped his cheek. Your thumb grazed over the scar peeking out from his eyepatch. He only wore it when at court, to not disturb the other ladies who might be more squeamish. It never bothered you. You lifted his eyepatch off. He flinched for a brief moment, but a gentle touch of your hand calmed him. In the eye socket where a pale blue eye should be, was a dark sapphire. The jeweler who’d made it rounded it to resemble an eye, but Aemond asked for it to remain its natural color. 

“I remember thinking you’d die,” you huffed a laugh. “The wound was so terrible and bled so much.”

“It wasn’t so bad,” he said. “I got Vhagar in return.” He paused, “I got you.”

Heat came around your neck and cheeks again, bringing on a smile. You remember the moment vividly. The morning after his injury he'd come to your quarters at Driftmark. Unannounced, uninvited, the prince stood in your chambers, pale and silver with determination on his face. Claiming his own dragon brought out a fire in him that never went out. You recalled studying him there. You’d gotten wounds of your own, little scratches and cuts, but nothing compared to his pain. The stark contrast of the stitched wound on his ivory skin was more shocking in the morning light. You somewhat liked the effect. 

‘My prince, you should be resting.’

‘There is something I wanted to tell you, my lady, before we depart home.’

‘What is it?’

“An absurd thing for a twelve-year-old boy to say,” you said softly, unbuckling his belt from his waist. You unbuttoned his doublet and lifted it off him. “‘I have my dragon’,” you quoted, “‘Now, I want my wife.’ I believe that is what you said.”

“And I got you,” he said, pecking your lips. “I told my mother I would never want another girl. No girl would do for me what you did that night.”

“Blatantly lie to the king about what happened in the tunnel?” 

“No…defend me.”

You did recall tearing Rhaena off Aemond as she and the others began hitting him. The both of you tussled around on the ground, pulling at each other’s hair and scratching each other’s faces. You’d never fought before, but your weight and size certainly worked in your favor. Her sister eventually joined the fray, pulling you off to punch at you, but the three of you stopped once Jace pulled out his blade. 

“I never thought I’d have anyone on my side,” he said, “But you were there. You always are. You tore at them. You hit them. You made them pay, in what little way you could. Then you told my father they attacked us. You defended me.”

“And I’d do it again, if I had to.”

Sliding his hand on the nape of your neck, he brought you to his lips. The taste of the vintage wine lingered on both your tongues, sweetening the already heated kiss. You untied the fastenings of his clothes, removing them piece by piece until nothing separated you. His hard body stoked a fire inside you. You ran your hands down his chest to his stomach, finally landing just above his cock. A low rumble from his chest beckoned you to keep going as he pressed himself to you. Warm, with the faint smell of violets lingering on his skin from his clothes, you fell further into your bliss as his hands slipped down your waist to your backside. Plump and soft, his hands kneaded them so that you whimpered against his lips. 

“I liked it,” you said between kisses, running your hand over his member and feeling it twitch on your palm. 

“Liked what?” he asked. He brought one hand up to your breast, palming it and squeezing gently. 

You broke your lips from his, licking his bottom lip, “Watching you mock them. I liked seeing their eyes flicker with fear when you stood up, staring them down with that hard look of yours.” You grabbed his shaft just to hear him grunt, “Being the strong, clever, slightly intimidating man you’ve become. I’ll admit,” you slowly began pumping him, watching his head roll back, “It aroused me for a moment.”

“I know,” he smirked, eyes still closed. “I know it isn’t by chance that you end up in the training yard some mornings.”

“I quite enjoy watching you fight. I always have. I love my strong,” you pecked at his neck, “Handsome,” you pecked the other side, “Clever husband who fucks me like a whore and treats me like a queen.”

“Which would you like tonight?” he suddenly grabbed your hair and yanked it, “A whore or a queen?”

“You’re a smart man,” you brought him over to the bed and straddled a corner, “You figure it out.”

His cock at level with you, you carefully lifted it to your mouth and slid your tongue underneath. Aemond did not respond with anything except a soft sigh. You kept your eyes on him as you licked him from base to tip, and then back down. Veins pump blood into his member, which pulsates against the flat of your tongue each time you traced over them. Blond hair curtaining his face, the shade darkened his features leaving his sapphire eye standing out more. You didn’t focus on it. You focused on the pink, bulbous tip that gradually turned red when you swirl your tongue around it. By the time you slid him into your mouth, moaning softly, Aemond’s hands already grasped your hair. He did not force you down immediately; he let you start the pace, enjoying your lips sucking his throbbing cock. Hands grasping his muscled thighs, you kept yourself steady while you slid him towards your throat. 

You only ever told one person where you learned the intimate art of love making. It was considered unbecoming and inappropriate for a noble lady to wander into a brothel disguised as a street urchin to watch the women there pleasure their customers. You never let yourself be touched, yet you’d observed at a hefty price. Aemond nearly choked on his wine when you revealed it to him on your wedding night. Yet, he quickly got over his shock when you laid him back and let you show him what you learned. You never fully mastered taking it to the back of your throat like some women did, but Aemond never pressed you. He stood there and let you practice on him sometimes after training or dinner. He gave a low groan when his tip pressed there, the groan mixing with your soft choking each time you did it. You massaged your thumbs into his inner thighs, close to his ballsack; his hips pushed into your face slightly at the new sensation. The longer you went on, the needier your husband became. Soon, he fisted your hair to keep you still so he stuck himself further into your throat. You let him guide you along his considerable length, your own sex beginning to ache for his touch. He saw you start to slip your hand between your thighs before he snatched it by the wrist. Without a word, he took both your wrists and held them at his sides to bring you forward. 

“The only person,” he grunted, “Who touches your cunt is me.”

His words made your clit throb again. You slowly grind your hips into the bed, which he seemed to allow so you could whimper around his cock. You imagined him throwing you onto the bed, forcing your legs apart and taking you however he wanted. The strength and formidable aura he oozed at the dinner table came back to you. How he’d stared coldly at Jace when he stood up at the table, angry with Aegon for his crude comments to Baela. How he sparred with Ser Cole earlier in the day, moving quick and precise in each maneuver. You wished to feel him everywhere. You wanted to feel the hard muscles and lines of his body; feel his heart beating faster while you rode him. You tried saying his name with your mouth full, a thing you knew he enjoyed. He laughed when he heard your muffled words. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, laughing in his tone, “What was that?” You pleaded his name again, rocking your hips more and more for some form of friction. “Is there something you need?”

He slid himself far enough that his tip laid on your tongue still, and you said, “Your tongue, my prince. Your tongue,” you licked the underside, “Your fingers, your cock. Please, Your Grace.” 

“Hm, I don’t know,” he said, releasing your hands and taking hold of himself. You stuck out your tongue for him to rub overt, tapping his tip there before you sucked on it. “I quite like it this way. You look so pretty drooling and begging me for more…like a filthy whore who can’t seem,” he plunged back into your mouth, “To get enough.”

You moaned with him this time, continuing to rub yourself on the corner of the bed as he kept a slow pace. The light brushes of the soft sheets against your aching sex felt torturous. The right spot refused to be touched, so the same teasing feeling came each time. Eventually, seeing streams of drool and precum follow, Aemond withdrew from you fully and pushed you onto your back. 

“Which part did you aim to please, slut?” he asked, the slur dripping from his lips with seduction. He trailed two long fingers down your belly to the top of your mound. You flinched feeling them trail circles down to the crevasse of your folds. “Was it here?” he traced them lightly over the slit of your cunt, dipping his finger only to graze over the hood of your clit. “Perhaps underneath then?” he brushed it back up underneath the hard nub, making you tremble. He chuckled darkly at your response and continued doing it with his thumb. You gripped the sheets under you as his thumb then slid over your clit, “But what about right here? It seems to please you the most.”

“Do not act as if you don’t know…A-Aemond…” you breathed, the slow movements driving you crazy. 

“I only wish to educate myself on what pleases my whore the most,” he began making soft trails of kisses down your inner thighs, “Well enough that she’ll never want another.” 

The wetness that leaked from you made his thumb’s movements slicker. He did careful circles around your sex, sometimes sliding towards your entrance before coming back up. He knew exactly what made your toes curl, and had you longing for him. A drastic difference from your wedding night. You brought one of his hands to your breasts for him to fondle while Aemond buried his face between your thighs. He worked his tongue in languid laps against your open folds while his fingers pinched your nipple hard. The slight tingle of pain made you raise your hips to his tongue again. 

You yelped in surprise when he slid both fingers inside your cunt, dragging them along the walls in a soft, delicate pace. He kept licking your sensitive nub with the tip of his tongue while he focused on the fingers inside you. The sensations coupled together were too much to bear. 

"Aemond…Aemond…" you muttered his name, the tension inside you building tighter and tighter. 

"I know," he mumbled, kissing up your thighs, his thumb replacing his tongue's movements. "Let go for me."

Your body immediately obeyed. His fingers kept the same gentle speed as your walls squeezed them. You reached down to grab his wrist, keeping it in place for more. Smirking, Aemond let his fingers wiggle against the most sensitive of spots. You saw stars when you closed your eyes. Your body might've burst into a thousand and one pieces with every shuddering wave. 

He didn't give you a single second. Pushing you further up the bed, Aemond forced your legs further apart and slipped into you. Hands pinning down your wrists, his lips found yours as he started rocking into you. Your juices still on his lips and tongue, you licked them clean. You pussy throbbed from being stimulated again, but you could not let go. You didn't want him to stop. You'd needed him all night. 

"Such a good whore," he jeered, starting to slam his hips into yours, "Laying here like a good girl and letting me take it how I want."

"Only for you, Your Grace. Only…for…"

He knelt up, and you saw the sheer size of him. Long limbed, you gazed on the pale sculpted figure above you. Silver hair falling around him, dark sapphire glinting, he was otherworldly. You never thought you'd have a man like him. Women like you did not get what they wanted, it was plain and simple. Women like you took what they got and adapted, because otherwise, you ended up an old maid. You didn't want that. You began bouncing against him so your breasts moved, and his eyes immediately fell on them. Letting go of your hands, he bent down and grasped them. Sparks of pleasure coursed back through you as he kissed and bit all over them. You didn't think you could handle it a second time. It didn't stop when his thumb found your clit again, and he moved it in time with his thrusts. The oversensitive spot tingled throughout your body; his touch felt ten times more apparent than before. 

"Your Grace," you mumbled, your thoughts forcing themselves together, "I think I might…I…"

At this, he angled you upwards and kept short strokes. The tip of his cock touched right on it again, your eyes rolling back to the strong sensation inside you. It felt like a knot being tightened and tightened until finally it snapped, and you were rutting up against him like an animal. Your second orgasm hit you hard, a strong force that made you lose control. You felt long fingers rest against your throat, not squeezing but simply holding you there. This new restraint, and the struggle of oxygen it brought, strengthened your climax instead of softening it. Your screams came slightly gurgled, but nobody else needed to hear. Your moans were for Aemond’s ears only. 

Unable to withhold himself any longer, Aemond took a few more pumps before he came. The hot cum filling you brought on a blissful satisfaction. His held tilted back, eyes closed shut and lips parted, your husband resembled a sculpture. A beautiful one. You ran your nails down his chest to his stomach to feel his tense muscles spasm in every squeeze. He kept thrusting until he'd drained every drop into you. Would you feel soreness in your muscles tomorrow? Yes. Would you regret it? Not at all. 

He fell onto his side next to you, blond hairs stuck to his forehead from sweat and a hazy sleepiness in his eyes. You tried your best to regain your breath and strength to even move. You turned your head to see him; you looked over his profile for every detail you can point out. Nobody ever made you feel so safe; so secure and comfortable in your own skin. You rolled onto your side and draped your arm and leg over half of him. He welcomed the cuddle and let you rest your head on his arm, so his hand fell near your hair, where he played with the ends of it idly. Neither you spoke as you basked in each other’s warmth; only smiling and sharing a soft kiss before a voice broke out into the room. 

"Well, it's good to see my brother knows how to pleasure a woman."

“Aegon!”

“Aegon, you twat!”

With wicked quickness, Aemond grabbed the nearest object and flung it at his brother, who stood a few feet from your bed. The blond boy laughed as he dodged it. Seeing his brother’s flustered face and you scrambling to cover yourself with sheets, Aegon cackled. 

“Mother sent me to come get you,” Aegon said through his laughter, “But, um, I’ll tell her you and Lady Y/N are indisposed right now.”

“You prick, Aegon! Don’t you know how to knock?!” You launched a pillow at him, which hit the man square in the face. 

“I didn’t want to interrupt!” he laughed, cheeks red as he walked backwards. “You two seemed to be having a good time!”

“Get out!” you and Aemond yelled in unison. 

You watched him leave. You both continued to hear him laughing even after he shut the doors. Aemond flung back onto the pillows in a sigh and you rested next to him. 

“Seven Hells,” you cursed, “He’s never going to shut up about it now.”

“Well, if he does, I can just casually remind him in front of a group of people how I once found him in a brothel tied to a pole blindfolded with a woman and a sheep in the room.”

“I’m sorry, but you found him doing what?” you asked in pure disgust. 

“Yes,” he nodded, “He claims that the sheep just happened to be there, but I don’t think anyone would believe him.” 

The both of you met each other’s gaze and then laughed. You curled back up to him again, his warmth keeping the chill from coming over you, and rested on him. You felt his seed stick between your legs. You hoped. You prayed that, maybe, a child would quicken there. You worried about what tonight’s events might rekindle, and the fallout from that dinner. It was nothing; a snide remark that can be forgiven if done at the right time. Perhaps Alicent will smooth things over, and the king will never hear of it. He is so old and very ill. You hated thinking Viserys died knowing his last effort to mend his family was broken so carelessly. 

“You worry too much,” Aemond’s voice broke through your sleepiness. “Don’t let it bother your pretty head anymore.”

“You don’t worry enough,” you replied, shutting your eyes and letting him pull the sheets over you both. 

“I do worry. I worry about you,” you felt his lips peck the top of your head. “Now, sleep.” 

And so you did in your husband’s arms, the place you were meant to be. 

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer #aemond smut #aemond fluff #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd s1 #hotd drabbles #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd imagines

[targayrenss]

A Dance With Dragons (I) -Daemon Targaryen x Velaryon Oc

pairing:Daemon Targaryen x Velaryon Oc

Content: Incest, Age-Gap,Angst

Jocelyn had never met her father's sister, but according to him, they were both very alike.

After her uncomfortable funeral, Jocelyn decided to go to the beach to soak her feet a bit, that was the excuse she gave her mother to get out of that uncomfortable place.

Looking at the sea she thought about how nice it would be to have a funeral like her aunt's, they were born from the sea and in her death they would return to hers, Jocelyn always thought of her as more Velaryon than Targaryen.

She loved her mother's house, she loved her dragon, star, she and her dragon shared a very special bond, Jocelyn loved everything about her dragon, from her star-like white eyes to her sea-blue scales.

She knew that one day it would be the dragon of one of her future children that would burn her body, she would rather become another fish in the sea than be reduced to ashes.

"I see your father didn't lie when he said you're the spitting image of him." Jocelyn tilted her head to see the owner of that voice.

Daemon Targaryen, Jocelyn had never met her uncle nor was she interested in doing so, and apparently her mother had no interest in her meeting him either.

—Uncle, I am very sorry for your loss, I would have loved to meet my aunt, my father always tells me the stories of his childhood shared with his sister

Daemon didn't answer but smiled at her, Jocelyn thought that was it so she turned her gaze back to the sea.

The prince took a seat on the sand next to her—It's beautiful, isn't it? I've never been so interested in the sea but now I can see how beautiful it is.

Jocelyn just nodded.

As she watched the sea, Daemon looked at her.

Jocelyn doubted if what she was going to ask was appropriate, she was comfortable and she was afraid that her question would ruin everything.

—Do you think I'll be a good queen?

-Who are they?

—Everyone! Everyone will hate me, they minimized my reign, the mother says that I will get married soon, the people will see my husband as their king, not as a king consort.

Smart girl, she was right in everything she said but at least she knows the truth, not like her mother who is completely blind to people's opinions.

—Whether they hate you or not, they will have to accept you as their queen, and if they don't, don't hesitate to burn them to ashes.

Jocelyn and Daemon looked at each other, both smiling at each other.

"My prince! Princess! His presence is requested in the throne room." The guard looked quite agitated.

Daemon took Jocelyn's shoulder and led them both into the living room.

The closer they got they could hear the screams coming from inside, Jocelyn hurried on until she flung open the door.

Everyone's attention fell on the young princess and the Daemon prince.

“Luke! Jace! What happened?” Jocelyn knelt down to her smallest brother's level, “Come on, show your sister.

“They attacked me!” Jocelyn looked from her to Aemond, the poor man mutilated.

Jocelyn shared a look with Daemon which did not go unnoticed by Rhaenyra.

She didn't know when or how, but the queen had thrown herself at her mother with a knife in her hand, managing to make a big cut on her arm.

"Enough, we can't go on like this! We're family!" Viserys yelled at everyone, "I'm not going to allow this family to separate anymore."

Jocelyn felt the king's gaze on her.

"My granddaughter, Jocelyn, and my son Aegon will marry, they will both inherit Dragonstone, and when their time comes, they will both reign together."

"Father." Rhaenyra tried to convince her father that this was a bad idea.

—It's an order! My granddaughter has already bled but she will be until she is sixteen days old when they should get married.

Jocelyn couldn't believe that she would have to marry Aegon, it was the compensation prize for a fight neither of them were involved in.

She went to sleep thinking that everything would improve but she did not, when she woke up she went directly to her father's funeral.

When her father's ashes were thrown into the sea, she Jocelyn headed to the beach hoping that if she went into the sea she would feel her father one last time.

Lost in her thoughts, she did not hear the footsteps that followed her.

"Sorry for your loss, niece."

Jocelyn was slow to answer, once again wondering if what was about to come out of her mouth was for the best, but she did.

I need you to do something for me, man.

Jocelyn turned back, seeing her uncle, he had more than thirty days of his name, he was taller than her, Jocelyn thought that even if she wasn't a girl he would still be taller than her, his eyes are the darkest violet she has ever seen.

"Take me to Dragonstone and make me your wife."

#daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x targaryen reader #Daemon targayen x oc #Daemon targaryen x velaryon oc #Daemon x you #daemon targaryen smut #hotd fanfic

[simurghed]

taylor: repressedly bisexual but the repression itself is also repressed in that she subconsciously feels the way she thinks abt women is strange (bc she subconsciously feels / fears / believes that she herself is inherently strange) but justifies & then re-justifies it to herself every few weeks .. to everybody else this just looks like her glancing at lisa’s tits & then thousand-yard staring off into the distance for a solid five minutes .. wildbow made her a trans girl on accident (like he did w most beautiful & true things in worm) but nobody tell him because he does not deserve to know

brian: i do legitimately believe he is both straight & cis bc if he wasn’t he would palpably b much stranger abt manhood & masculinity than he already is in-text .. he has considered kissing a man at least once but figured after hefty deliberation that sort of thing just wasn’t for him .. however i do think cherish should have called him gay not bc he rly is but bc it would have made him pause & afterwards fall into a period of rumination & actually i think this is how his summer of the forest could have happened

lisa: in love w taylor in every sense of the phrase but i wouldn’t say “attraction” itself is a factor there / that love isn’t predicated on romance or attraction or what one might typically attribute to love .. sexuality isn’t something she herself would rly care to put labels on nor something i think has much merit here but for shorthand i would just call her an arospec / acespec / etc lesbian .. cis but i think the only value gender has to her is wrt its social connotations (in business & persona) .. if she woke up one day in magical boy universe i think she would just adapt & adjust but she would grieve the loss of being able to go “look at this sweet face! would this girl lie to u :(” when that girl is in fact lying to u

rachel: butch lesbian & it is embedded into every aspect of her character & i will never ever ever ever listen to that foul man’s words he doesn’t know her he doesn’t even know her he is nothing he is nothing he is nothing he is nothing he isn’t real he can’t hurt me he isn’t real he isn’t real & canada is an elaborate ploy by the first pioneers of the parahumans wordpress to account for worm’s esoteric undetermined origins

aisha: bisexual (for realsies apparently) but i don’t think it rly comes into play much other than as cudgel for her jests & japes bc she will b hung up on her best friend from when she was 13 until the day after she dies .. whether or not she was srs when she rated cherie fuck in fuck marry kill is up to u tho i do think she has a tendency to either dramatise or just completely make things up when talking abt her own attraction / preferences for eeshy reasons (see: asking defiant is the robot pussy was rly that good) .. gender is whatever she feels like in the moment

alec: i think i have to delegate to lakesbian here seeing as they r his professor / lawyer / doyen / ambassador .. my only thoughts on this matter r i don’t think u could even call him a hedonist sexuality-wise bc there is absolutely zero demonstration of him expressing attraction / engaging in any romantic or sexual pursuits based off sheer opportunity & desire for pleasure besides vague comments abt his sexual abuse as a child

#liable to dispute except for rachel #wildbow will not survive the rapture #undersiders

[alicedash2]

Hello Alice 👋. I've been reading your work's (mainly the whitebeard crew and ace one's) and I have to say , I really love your writing! I see the request is still open, so if you don't mind me... What if whitebeard has a biologically related daughter? How would the crew treat her? ( Also if it's ok with you, can you make it Ace x whitebeard's daughter?). That's all from me... Thank you (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

Hello, my dear! Very much thank you! 💗♥️💗♥️💗♥️💗♥️

I hope I did what you wanted, I hope you like it!

Whitebeard x Biological Daughter! ( And Ace x Biological Whitebeard Daughter)

Ah, to be the biological son of the great Whitebeard, what a privilege!

Firstly, she will be treated like a queen on the ship whether she likes it or not, because she is a person very dear to the crew, and still, there are fights that she is going to marry the great daughter of Whitebeard, but, Whitebeard or it is very well and protests, saying that he will choose who will be the suitor

- as your father, I know who your boyfriend or husband should be-

- you can't always be like this! I will choose myself! -

- you are very rebellious! I didn't raise you like that!-

But! Already super cute father-daughter moments, he doesn't let anyone touch his daughter, as well as the crew members who are always with YN, flirting and playing pickup lines, if that's a teenager to an adult!

But

°•°•°•^^°°

If it's a child

It will be pure sweetness, everyone is playing and having fun, Whitebeard spoils his daughter whenever he gets the chance, always telling her that he loves her and that she is the most beautiful girl in the oceans!

Thatch makes her favorite dishes, always to see smile and laugh

Everyone loves Whitebeard's little daughter, as she is more appreciated than the Empress Boa Hancock, not least because, obviously, she is Whitebeard's biological daughter.

°•°•°^•°•

The crew doesn't let anyone flirt with YN! Only they can!

And my friend, if YN shows up crying or hurt, they'll turn the planet upside down!

Marco is always taking care of YN's health, the call for exams every week and cried if YN is fine,

Izou likes to groom YN, make her up and dress her in beautiful clothes.

Ace, Thatch are the main flirts, but if they pray they take a cuckoo from Whitebeard when he catches them

Haruta likes to share secrets, talk and play with YN

Vista lets YN wear her hat and play with her mustache

Anyway, she is the princess of the ship, no one touches her, she just admires with her eyes, while her guards protect her! Like that 💗♥️💞

Ace takes a lot of risks, he flirts when Whitebeard is not around, but, whenever possible, he invites the captain's daughter to go out with Ace, which causes envy and even fights over who will go out with the captain's daughter. captain, so in the end, the captain's daughter ends up staying on the ship or going out alone

Ace thinks Whitebeard doesn't know, but he does know that Ace is head over heels in love with YN, always spoiling her with gifts, sweets and sharing her food!

One day, Whitebeard wanted to talk to Ace alone.

-Ace...-

- Yes,Pops?-

- I saw that you are dating my daughter -

- ...forgive me- -

- no. -

- Hm? -

- just, take care of her, I trust her to you, Ace, I don't care if they go out or date, I trust that you can take care of her -

Ace's eyes had never lit up so much, fire seeping from his body with emotion.

Until one day, Ace was rehearsing how to confess his feelings, until he had an idea.

On the island where the boat anchored, as usual, Ace and YN went out, went to bars, restaurants and other places, until when night came and they were returning to the ship, Ace stopped and held YN's hand.

- what it was?-

-YN, I need to tell you something-

YN already suspected, but didn't want to say anything so as not to spoil the friendship

- say it-

- I love you, very much!-

Ace's face turned red, his body waiting for some flames and anxiously waiting for the answer, which, was a peck on the lips, making Ace explode with emotion.

- you're a cutie, Ace! I love you too, Ace! -

Ace his legs shake, YN, seeing Ace's situation, laughs and hugs him

Ace felt YN's gentle hands on his back, sliding up and down smoothly, making Ace's body fall in relief and in love, but in the end, Ace gave lots of kisses and affection and received lots of kisses and affection

#one piece #one piece x reader #whitebeard pirates x reader #whitebeard crew #portgas d ace #portgas ace x reader #ace x reader #ace one piece