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okay-babe · 2 months

Note

Imagine alastor thinks his wife is just the most perfect, angelic being he’s ever met, so he’s downright shocked to fight out she also ended up in hell going “yeah I killed a man once” (he falls even more in love)

A Good Thing, Indeed

tags: alastor x fem! reader, established relationship, alastor and reader are married, angelic reader, protective/possessive alastor, brief human alastor x human reader, fluff, very mild angst note: I went a little overboard with this one, but I hope you enjoy, anon <3 Find a sequel (of sorts) to this fic, here.

Alastor had never quite understood how someone like him had ended up with a woman like you.

You were soft and understanding, utterly ceaseless in your kindness and love of near anyone who crossed your path, a true saint to be sure.

Alastor on the other hand, had always been quite the opposite.

Where you were soft, your lover was unyielding, where you were understanding, he was impatient, and when it came to the capacity for kindness and love within his heart, many would have gone on record stating that there was much to be desired in that regard.

Yet, even still, you chose him, and he, you.

Every. Single. Time.

It was as if the two of you were meant to be.

The proud and charismatic up and coming host of a brand new radio show, and the modest and soft spoken kindergarten teacher that was ever present upon his arm.

To Alastor, you were everything and more, and whether he was willing to admit it aloud or not, he all but worshiped the very ground that you walked upon.

There was so very little worth caring for in a world like the one that he lived in, and yet there you were, a shining beacon of light and hope to keep him from losing his mind over it all (well, at least in part, though he knew deep down that a portion had been missing since long before you'd made your way into his life).

For all of this, Alastor praised you and your love ceaselessly, his appreciation for your union a vast and endless thing that filled him with a sense of pride stronger than any other he'd felt before.

And how could it not?

You were his wife.

You!

The beautiful kindergarten teacher who worked in the public school just down the street from his broadcasting station, the one with the smile that lit up a room and the laugh that could make a man blush.

The one with the students who sung her praises to their parents during pick up and the coworkers turned friends who would utterly gush about her at even the briefest mention of her name.

You.

The woman that no one believed had gotten New Orleans' most prominent radio host to settle down after only just a year of courting, and whose stunning church wedding had been the talk of the town.

You were perfect, you were lovely, and the sweetest part of it all was that you bore his last name.

And oh, what whiplash that must have caused for those who hadn't known of your courtship earlier on. It nearly sent Alastor into a tizzy just imagining it.

The sweet, adoring woman that your son calls his teacher is also the wife of the ever unreadable and notably cold radio host from just down the street that scarcely any could say they truly knew?

How scandalous! Whatever is a woman like her doing with a man like him?!

Well, the answer, quite honestly, was being doted upon nigh endlessly.

If you wanted for even the smallest of things, it would be yours in an instant, and if you desired even the most useless of luxuries, he would have spared no expense to have it in your hands by the end of the day.

And even beyond that, there was the persistent desire to stay by your side, his presence always guaranteed the very moment you mentioned want for it.

An ice cream social at the school where you'd be meeting your new students and their parents? Alastor was there, conversing politely with a few mothers on the difficulties of parenting (in spite of his notable lack of children), making nearly everyone wonder what the hell a famous radio host was doing at the local elementary school.

Visiting Mimzy at her slightly sleazy little lounge in the shadier side of the city? Alastor was there, dressed to the nines, looking immensely out of place as you danced the night away with your friends (and him of course) to your little heart's content.

His love for you was nearly as endless as yours was for the very world beneath your feet, and in spite of himself he couldn't help but fall deeper and deeper in love at every borderline naive action you took.

You want to buy that man a drink because he looks lonely? Certainly darling, your husband would be happy to scare him off all night as the fool tries to make unwanted advances at you that he thinks are warranted thanks to your kindness.

You want to pick a fight with the burly man whose house is on your walk to work because he's been shouting cruel things at his dog nearly every morning for the past several weeks? Oh of course, just let Alastor prepare to use his most unsettling smile while he reaches for the leather sheathed knife he keeps attached to his belt so he can wordlessly threaten the oaf without you ever even realizing.

And so, knowing all of that and having lived such a love-filled few years at your side, how could Alastor ever have believed he might one day see you again once he came to in Hell shortly after his demise?

The short answer was, he couldn't.

And though he would never have been willing to admit such a thing aloud, it utterly shattered a portion of his heart to know he would never see your sweet smile or hear your perfect laugh ever again.

And to imagine what your reaction may have been once the police had informed you of all that he had done?

Well, he tried his best not to.

Because while he couldn't bring himself to regret those he had killed and the things he had done, he did regret having been left with no choice but to keep such a thing from you and leave you with such a mess upon his death.

Certainly you had deserved better, that much he knew.

But there was absolutely nothing he could do about that now.

Or, at least, that's what he had led himself to believe.

Until one day, he'd been broken out of his typical morning routine of brewing his black coffee and digging into a freshly caught deer by the sound of knocking at his door.

There were very few people who knew of where Alastor lived at this point, with him being multiple years removed from life and having firmly cemented himself within society as a powerful and merciless overlord, so honestly it hadn't come as very much of a surprise when he opened the door and found an old friend waiting rather impatiently on the other side.

Mimzy.

Having arrived in Hell not very long after the radio host, the former flapper, (who he had actually met through you), had become a familiar face throughout the past few years as he'd tried to grow accustomed to life without his darling wife at his side.

It was nice, in a way, to have that reminder of you near when he wished for it to be, and so he allowed the sinner to call him something like a friend and offered her protection when it was convenient enough for him that it didn't prove to be a hassle.

Although, today of all days the overlord was certainly a little less than pleased to see Mimzy's familiar face at his doorstep, and he was reasonably certain that she knew why that was.

It was your former anniversary after all, and today would have been your tenth year of marriage had he only lived long enough to reach such a landmark achievement with you.

A smile, strained and thin, descended upon his lips, and, in spite of his feelings, Alastor remained as cordial as ever, albeit rather cold with his words.

"Mimzy, my dear! How wonderful to see you! Whatever could possibly be so important as to have you at my door on a day like today?"

There was a certain level of threat to his tone that no doubt left the woman standing before him floundering for a few seconds, before finally, she mustered up her reply, her smile ever so slightly less confident than before.

"Alastor, just the fella that I was lookin' for!"

The sinner began, placing her right hand upon her hip as she inspected the condition of the nails on her left,

"Now I know ya like to be left alone and all on days like this, but I've got a surprise for ya back at my place that I promise you're gonna wanna see a-s-a-p."

She said with her typical air of confidence, immediately causing the Radio Demon to roll his eyes in response, his facade of interest slipping ever so slightly before he seemed to catch himself once more, ever the gentleman.

"Oh do you now? Well, as utterly transfixed as I am over this little mystery of yours, I'm afraid that I just don't have the time to stop by today. Lot's of things to prepare for the upcoming broad-"

"Alastor."

Mimzy said sternly, cutting the overlord in question off rather uncharacteristically with a glare of her own.

"I know damn well that you don't got nothin' planned for the day, so don't you start fibbin', mista, I can see right through ya!"

She began, quickly changing the subject when she seemed to recall exactly who she was talking to at the increasing sound of static.

"Look, I didn't come here to argue with ya or nothin', so you do whatever it is that you wanna do. I just wanted to come over and warn ya that if you don't come by for a visit by the end of the day you're gonna feel like a real fool, okay?"

She emphasized her warning with a dramatized raise of her brow before she grinned rather wickedly and stepped down off of his doorstep, wiggling her fingers in a teasing little wave as she climbed into the back of the very same taxi she must have used to get to his dwellings in the first place.

"I'll see ya around dollface!"

She called out as the car pulled away, leaving Alastor with quite a few more questions than he'd had upon her already unplanned arrival.

What a fantastic start to one's day.

By the time that Alastor made the decision to actually stop by Mimzy's lounge, it was already dark outside, the subtle chirping of crickets reminding him briefly of home as he walked toward his destination, ever a fan of the more simplistic methods of transportation.

He thought of the sounds of crickets and all of the moments with you that their seemingly endless chirps had backed until their sounds faded away with the increasing sounds of the busier section of the city, wherein Mimzy's place was located.

Just as sleazy and sketchy as it had been above, so it was below, and Alastor felt a sudden sense of longing and familiarity as he stepped inside, the smell of cigarettes and the sound of ever so slightly out of tune jazz music reminding him of his days of swing dancing with you on the cracked dance floor of the place Mimzy had owned and operated in life.

The Radio Demon had only just begun to contemplate what you might have thought of a place like this one when suddenly, he heard a familiar voice call out his name, and he turned to find the lounge's owner walking quickly toward him, a wide grin that nearly rivaled his own splitting her cheeks.

"Well would you look who it is, Alastor the Radio Demon here in my lil' lounge, what a lucky lady I must be!"

Mimzy teased as she shouted over the obnoxiously loud music, immediately forcing the man in question to hold back another instinctual roll of his eyes.

"Oh, nonsense, I should think that luck has very little to do with it, my dear."

Alastor drawled, dragging his gaze downward to find his friend standing there, all but vibrating upon her feet, clearly excited by something, though he couldn't quite fathom what in Hell it could possibly be.

That is, until he heard another familiar voice pipe up from somewhere behind him, this one far less anticipated than the last, and by a rather significant margin at that.

"Mimzy?"

It called, an edge of stress to it that had the corners of the overlord's smile twitching downward ever so slightly for the briefest of moments.

Alastor watched as the ex flapper standing before him grinned widely in response to his barely noticeable reaction, her eyes shining as she allowed the person speaking to continue with their question.

"Who did you say the whiskey on the rocks was for?"

The lounge's owner hopped up onto a stool beside where she had been standing, gesturing to the space at the bar near where Alastor was still firmly planted, the ears atop his head twitching ever so slightly as they took in the sound of a voice he'd never thought he'd hear again for the very first time since he'd awoken with them camouflaged within his hair.

"Right here, doll. Speakin' of which, why dontcha c'mere and meet one of my regulars, huh?"

She asked as casually as she could manage, gesturing slightly for the still reeling sinner standing beside the bar to take a seat, which, to her surprise, he actually did, eyes seeking out the source of the voice he was hearing as if in utter disbelief.

And then, much to his shock, there you were.

Sure, you looked different as a sinner, but he would recognize you anywhere, and it certainly helped that your beautiful smile was the very same as he remembered it to be whenever he closed his eyes and found you there waiting for him.

Busy with what was likely a fairly large number of orders that your fellow bartender seemed to be doing very little to try and keep up with, you didn't seem to notice him at first, walking quickly toward your old friend with a glass of whiskey in hand, moving to place it down in front of the ever so prominent Radio Demon absentmindedly when suddenly, you froze, your hand still wrapped around the chilled cup.

The two of you stared at one another for several long moments, eyes widened and breaths halting entirely, until finally Mimzy spoke up from Alastor's right, her laughter obnoxious beside his ear, though he could scarcely bring himself to care with his gaze locked so heavily onto yours.

"Happy anniversary, ya lovebirds! Didn't expect that, didja?!"

She all but cackled, causing you to break eye contact with your husband to gawk at your friend.

"Wait a second, you knew he was here the whole time and didn't tell me?!"

You cried, hand flying to your mouth as Alastor began to regard the woman sitting beside him with a hugely threatening glare, the frightfulness of which was only increased by his unyielding grin, which was beginning to appear more and more malicious by the second.

"Woah woah woah, hold your horses!"

Mimzy shouted, waving her hands all about as if in surrender as she looked back and forth between the two of you nervously,

"She only just got down here this mornin' I swear!"

She explained hurriedly to the overlord beside her, causing the man's eye to twitch with effort as he struggled not to tear his old friend limb from limb while her entire bar watched on in horror.

Alastor tapped one clawed finger against the bar in front of him, his sharpened teeth appearing even more threatening than usual at his apparent anger over the situation at hand.

"And you didn't think, my dear,"

He began, his voice low,

"That I may have wanted to know sooner?"

The sound of static overtook the lounge as the sinner's anger increased with each word he said, causing everyone, including those hired to play the live music, to flee out the front door, leaving the trio to their own devices within the confines of the now empty space.

This fact worked extremely well for Alastor, who was only growing more enraged with each passing second as he considered the implication of Mimzy's actions further.

Not only had this woman, someone who had dared call him a friend for so many years, betrayed him by keeping your presence unknown, but she had also clearly employed you at her poor excuse for a lounge, and was now acting as if she had done him a favor by allowing him to be in the presence of the very woman he'd married.

The urge to rip the sinner to shreds with his very own claws was immense, and perhaps he even would have done so had it not been for a gentle hand coming to rest upon his forearm, the weight of it felt even through his shirt and coat.

Immediately, he stiffened, the familiarity of the touch so jarring that his previous thoughts of murder ceased within an instant as he turned his head to face you properly.

There, illuminated by the dim and yellowed lights of the bar, stood his wife, a woman who he had never expected to see again after all that he had done.

What good deed must he have committed in life to deserve such a blessing as this?

Surely there was some kind of mistake and someone would be descending from the heavens to collect you soon, an angel sent to Hell on accident by way of some great failure on Saint Peter's fault.

Your husband stared at you for a few moments, as if afraid you might disappear if he so much as blinked, before finally, you spoke up, your lips curving into a slightly nervous smile.

"Let her explain?"

You asked gently, taking up the very same tone you used to when asking your beloved to make an exception to one of his many strict internalized rules for your benefit.

'Stay home with me?'

'Give him a chance?'

'A slightly less violent solution, perhaps?'

(the latter of which he'd heard more often than he was willing to admit).

And this time, as always, he caved almost immediately, giving a rather stern nod of his head before looking toward Mimzy with an obviously strained smile on his lips.

She didn't have long, that was for sure.

If she wanted to explain, she'd better do so quickly.

And that much must have been clear, because the ex flapper started talking just about as fast as she could manage while still remaining intelligible.

And what a tale she spun, indeed.

With hurried words and a remarkably nervous expression the likes of which neither you nor your husband had ever seen Mimzy wear before, the sinner apologized profusely for not telling either of you sooner, promising that she had only been trying to make it a surprise in celebration of your anniversary.

Apparently, she had vastly overestimated how persuasive she could be, and had assumed (rather incorrectly) that Alastor would be much more urgent in his arrival to her lounge after she'd paid him a visit, meaning she hadn't exactly intended to have kept the two waiting so long for the "grand reveal" of her surprise.

And, slowly but surely, as Mimzy explained her thought process, your confusion and your husband's apparent anger all but melted away, both reactions coming to be replaced with something located somewhere between amusement and exasperation.

How very like your friend it was to meddle in such a manner, after all.

You'd missed this.

(Alastor wished dearly that he could say the same, but having been stuck alone with it for several years, he couldn't quite relate.)

Still, even he had to admit that Mimzy's actions were something far more similar to misguided kindness than intentional ill will.

Though, there was still one issue that was still bothering him...

"Mimzy."

Alastor interrupted the sinner in the middle of her ramble, watching as she immediately shut her mouth and looked up at him, a familiar bout of nervous laughter falling from her lips as she wrung her hands together.

Seeing that she was paying attention, the overlord continued,

"I understand what you were going for with your..." He trailed off for a moment before hearing you pipe up from where you stood on the other side of the bar,

"Efforts."

How amusing, it seemed that even after years of separation, not even death could sever the almost supernatural ability you had to understand what your husband was trying to say before even he truly did.

Alastor nodded,

"Exactly. But that being said, I struggle to understand one thing."

He leaned toward his old friend slightly, watching her eyes widen as he did so, clearly unsure of what was going to happen next.

"Why, pray tell, my dear, is my wife spending her precious time working at your lounge if you had every intention of returning her to me?"

The possessive tone to his voice made you blush, eyes moving to the ground as you awaited Mimzy's response.

She was quick to answer.

"Great question, dollface!"

She laughed nervously,

"I uh, I guess I kinda figured she'd know if she was down here then you would be too, so I wanted to give her a little bit of a distraction... and maybe get some extra help for a few hours in the meantime."

She admitted quietly, though by the time she was finished speaking, Alastor wasn't paying her much mind anymore, his mind now occupied with what he considered to be a far more pressing issue.

Because now that Mimzy mentioned it...

"Dearest,"

He began, immediately catching your attention as he turned to face you fully, allowing you to take in the sight of him and his new "look" for the first time since your arrival.

You would be lying if you said you weren't a fan, as different as it may have been.

"Speaking of 'down here',"

Alastor continued, amusement dancing within his eyes,

"What exactly are you doing in a place like Hell?"

Your gaze moved downward once more at that, and you cleared your throat awkwardly as you tried to find anything else to focus on.

Eventually though, you gave up, and forced yourself to meet your husband's gaze once more.

"I uh, I killed a parent..."

You muttered under your breath, immediately causing Alastor's eyes to widen slightly in surprise, one of his ears twitching slightly atop his head.

"Pardon?"

He asked in utter disbelief, unable to even begin to comprehend what he was hearing.

You, his beautiful and darling wife, had killed a parent of one of the children you taught?

Utterly unbelievable, perish the thought.

You sighed, crossing your arms in a mix of embarrassment and frustration,

"I killed a parent, Al. Lucy and Arnold's father. He was beating on them and their mama something fierce, and I saw the opportunity to put a stop to it one night when walking over to the station after work... He went down the alley between the grocers and the tailor to take a shortcut home or something like that, and I just followed him before I even knew what was really going on..."

You sounded hesitant as you spoke, eyes downcast once more until without a word, your husband pressed his gloved index finger to your chin, raising your gaze to his own once more so you could see the utter awe present there.

He was positively enamored.

"You killed Harry Wells?"

He asked, shock still coloring his tone as he watched you for your reaction.

Slowly, after a few seconds of contemplation, you nodded, cheeks still pink as you did your best to keep from trying to avoid Alastor's heavy gaze.

"I uh, yeah. I did."

The overlord sitting across from you chuckled softly, a sound that slowly grew in volume and exuberance until he was laughing outright, the familiar sound music to your ears even as he sighed and wiped a tear from his eye afterward, something he had done often in life.

He grinned even wider at you than before, the pride in his eyes obvious as he shook his head as if still in disbelief.

"And to think,"

He began, reaching across the counter to grab both of your hands so he could pull you closer, your forearms resting against the bar countertop.

"I hadn't thought it possible to love you any more than I already did."

You laughed at that, pressing your forehead against your husband's with a sigh,

"Well in that case, I suppose it's a good thing that I have all of eternity to prove you wrong, huh?"

Alastor chuckled softly, humming as he took in the sight of you, as if trying to commit each individual detail to memory.

"A good thing, indeed, dear heart."

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gojoux · 3 months

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『 𝐍𝐎 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐄 』

· Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x Reader

· Summary: Life has decided to lead you to him or lead him to you, knowing that you two are destined together despite your differences. This told story is just a glimpse of a few memories between you and him, one that he remembers dearly.

· CW: 8.6k // Mostly fluff. True Form!Sukuna. Heian Era. Overprotective + Possessive Sukuna. Very subtle sex scenes. Slight violence.

Late post because the app screwed me over a divider. As you see... it’s thicker like him than usual.

The infamous King of Curses had only one weakness—you.

Ryomen Sukuna, the most fearsome sorcerer (or used to be one) alive, would melt in your presence. His usual cold and cruel demeanor vanished when he was with you, replaced by a gentle sweetness he showed to no other.

From the very first moment your paths crossed, he was utterly enthralled, something he would never expect to feel in his life. You’re someone he doesn’t even know or heard of and he doesn’t find the appeal from you, but there’s just something about you that makes him enchanted at first sight.

Your luminous soul called to him like a song. He knew you were destined to be his. And so he courted you as tenderly as his blackened heart would allow, coaxing you to return his affections.

Slowly, gently, he broke down your defenses. His smoldering gazes made your heart flutter. His feather-light touches from his big, strong hands and fingers sent shivers down your spine. Before long, you realized you were falling for this demon who looked at you with such longing in his crimson eyes.

He could shower you with all the passion and devotion he had been holding back. He cherishes you, catering to your every desire. Just being near you was euphoric for him.

When apart, he counted the seconds until he could see you again. And when reunited, he was unable to keep his hands off you, showering you with passionate kisses and whispers of sweet words.

“You are mine. Remember that,” he would murmur against your skin as he held you close. “Always.”

You had tamed the beast. Or so you thought.

While Sukuna was nearly defenseless against your love, it also ignited something far more sinister—his jealousy.

The mere idea of losing you made his blood burn with rage. Other men were not even permitted to look at you, lest they get torn limb from limb.

Though deeply in love, Sukuna’s possessive nature remained. And woe befall any who dared threaten what was his.

The first time it happened was weeks after you’d become his. A young lord from a clan sent you gifts and flowers, seeking your affection. When Sukuna discovered this, the fury in his eyes turned them molten gold.

“He dares think he can steal you away from me?” Sukuna seethed. In an instant, he vanished to hunt down the offending lord.

He returned hours later drenched in blood that was not his own. You shuddered to imagine what cruel fate had befallen the misguided young man. Sukuna said nothing of it, simply pulled you into a bruising kiss and swore you’d never leave his side again.

After that, the corpses started piling up.

A guard who eyed you lasciviously, eviscerated.

A peasant whose longing stare lingered too long, executed.

Anyone who so much as looked at you with desire was signing their own death warrant.

You begged Sukuna to show mercy, but your pleas fell on deaf ears. “They try to take what is mine,” he would snarl. “They deserve no less than agony and death.”

His demonic nature had fully resurfaced, and you realized just what you had unleashed. Sukuna would slaughter legions and burn the world to ashes if it meant keeping you.

You were terrified of what he had become. Yet some traitorous part of you thrilled at being so coveted, so passionately loved, even if it came at a bloody cost.

He was an obsession incarnate, and you, his obsession.

No matter where you turned, his shadow loomed.

There would be no escaping the King of Curses’ dark desires.

You were his.

How did it all start? It’s been too long since it went past your head already.

But you do remember vividly when you were walking that one night when your gut told you not to, you did.

You should have listened to your instincts. But there was something about the forest at night that called to you, beckoning you to explore its moon-bathed paths and whispering trees.

Curiosity won out over caution, and you decided one quick walk couldn’t hurt.

You set out just after sunset, relishing the kiss of cool night air on your skin. The woods were serene and lovely in the deep blue hush just before true darkness fell. Night blooms perfumed the air as you wandered along aimlessly, simply savoring this secret world.

Until you realized you had lost your way. Suddenly the trees seemed more ominous, the shadows deeper. You paused, peering anxiously through the gloom.

How long have you been walking?

Which way was home?

As you turned around in circles trying to get your bearings, a blow of wind appeared behind you. You froze, heartbeat thudding in your ears.

“Well, what do we have here?”

You whipped around with a gasp. Emerging from the trees was a tall, powerfully built man. But what drew your wide-eyed stare were the four arms crossed onto his bare, toned chest.

You stumbled back in terror, but he moved unnaturally fast, appearing before you in an instant. Up close, details that had escaped you at a distance were now frighteningly clear. Tattoos are carved on his face and body. His eyes burned crimson.

You were face to face with the King of Curses himself.

“Please…” you whimpered, trembling. “I mean no trespass...”

Sukuna tilted his head, considering you with evident amusement. He reached out an arm towards you, his fingers gliding along your jaw, tipping your chin up. You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for death.

But instead of tearing you apart, he simply chuckled. “Open your eyes. I will not harm you.”

You cracked them open hesitantly. Sukuna was observing you closely now, intrigued.

“Fear not. I merely wondered who was wandering my woods at this late hour,” he purred. “But I see now… you are no threat at all.”

His touch was surprisingly gentle as he traced the line of your throat. You shivered but did not dare pull away. The heat of his skin felt feverish against yours.

“What brings you here to me, I wonder?” he murmured, his piercing gaze seeming to lay your soul bare.

He tutted, circling you slowly. “These woods are dangerous at night, especially for tempting morsels like yourself. Do you have any idea what lurks in the shadows?” He paused expectantly, but you were too petrified to respond.

You licked your dry lips nervously. “I… I was simply exploring. I did not mean to disturb—”

“Quiet.” A finger pressed lightly over your mouth. “How shall I punish this trespass? I do hate uninvited guests.”

You finally found your voice, though it trembled pitifully. “P-please, I meant no intrusion. If you let me go, I swear I will never—”

“Let you go?” Sukuna tilted his head, looking almost offended. “Now, why would I do that? No, you will not be leaving.”

Your heart hammered at those enigmatic words. Just what did this dangerous being want with you? Surely not anything good.

As if reading your mind, Sukuna laughed once more. “Worry not, little one. I only wish for some company.” In the blink of an eye, he closed the distance between you, caging you with his body. This close, the heat pouring off him was incredible, the coils of his tattoos seeming to slither and shift before your eyes with your heart hammering wildly.

A violent shudder went through you, though not entirely from fear now. Being clasped in his strong embrace had stirred something unexpected within you. A strange exhilaration at having caught the eye of this exotic and terrible being.

He leaned down, inhaling deeply near the crook of your neck. “Mm, such fear. I can taste it rolling off your skin… intoxicating.” His lips grazed your fluttering pulse, making you shudder. “You are afraid, yet also thrilled to see me, aren’t you?”

Heat rushed to your cheeks. Was it that obvious, the traitorous excitement you felt being so close to this dangerous demon? You just couldn’t tear your eyes away from his unusual beauty.

“I thought so,” he purred, looking utterly satisfied. He brushed a finger lightly down your cheek. “It seems fate has brought you to me for a reason.”

Sukuna sensed your reaction and made a small pleased noise. In one smooth motion, he swept you up into his arms and started carrying you deeper into the woods.

You gasped, hands braced against the solid muscles of his shoulder. “Where are you taking me? Please, I never meant to intrude! I am sorry! just—”

“Shut it.” His grip tightened. “Do not fight me. Submit, and it will go easier for you.”

Tears of panic spilled down your cheeks. But despite your fear, you felt your body responding to his proximity, pulsing with alarming warmth. Your thoughts scattered as Sukuna claimed your mouth in a searing kiss, tasting your helpless whimper.

“What are you…” you gasped, too speechless to find a word to fight back.

As if reading your mind again, Sukuna adjusts the way he’s carrying you to brush his lips against your own in a feather-light caress. “I hope you are not too afraid, little one. I have been alone for so long, you will keep me company. And I have no intention of letting you go.”

Some part of you recognized the truth in his words. No matter how your mind recoiled, your body was betraying you, longing for more of his addictive caresses. He sensed your crumbling resistance, his smile triumphant.

“You are mine now. Do not fight it.”

You stared around in awe at the sprawling shinden-zukuri as Sukuna placed you down and led you inside. Paper screens glowed warmly with lantern light, illuminating opulent tatami rooms decorated with priceless scrolls and vases, and through meticulously tended gardens dotted with tranquil ponds. Everything about this place spoke of immense power and wealth.

It was a far cry from your own humble village dwelling. You could scarcely fathom how a demon lord had come to possess such a magnificent noble estate out here in the remote forest.

As Sukuna guided you deeper into the manse, you passed several elegantly dressed women in simple yet elegant kimonos, all keeping their gazes demurely lowered.

‘Servants,’ you realized. But where had they come from? Were they taken like how you are now? Were you about to become another of his servants?

When you reached the main manor, Sukuna slid open the screen to reveal a grand receiving chamber. Priceless ink scrolls and painted silk screens adorned the walls. The opulence was staggering.

“Do you like it?” he asked, noting your awe. “I claimed this estate long ago from its previous owners.”

You shivered at the implication behind those words but said nothing as he guided you deeper inside.

Your bemused wondering was interrupted when Sukuna slid open a screen door, ushering you into a lavish bed chamber. A large futon covered in silks took up most of the space.

“You must be weary, little one,” he stroked your hair. “Rest now. I will have my servants draw you a bath.”

He pressed his lips to your forehead before gliding from the room. Still stunned by your opulent surroundings, you wandered over to the open window. Beyond the manicured gardens and koi ponds you could see nothing but dense forest stretching endlessly. Just how far had Sukuna brought you?

You had little time to ponder before two servant women appeared, bowing deeply. They poured hot water into a carved wooden tub and then added cherry blossom-scented oils.

You let them help you disrobe and sink into the fragrant bath, the tension in your muscles unwinding. The demon’s domain was still terrifying and foreign, but you couldn’t deny the comforts he lavished upon you. His possession had a gentleness to it that left you conflicted.

This place treated you better in less than two hours than your whole life in the village.

After your bath, the servants dressed you in silken robes layered in rich hues of wisteria and spring leaves. Darkened your lips with crushed berries. They arranged your hair with jade combs and dabbed perfume at your wrists in a courtly fashion.

Examining their work in a bronze mirror, you barely recognized yourself. The simple village girl staring back from the bronze mirror was gone, replaced by someone who looked like a noblewoman.

Sukuna was waiting when you emerged, hungry eyes sweeping over you appreciatively. “Beautiful,” he pulls you close to him. His lips grazed your wrist, inhaling the perfume there. “You will come to appreciate the comforts of being mine.” His words sent an illicit tingle through you.

“Thank you,” was all you could say as you felt your body sway toward him, eyelashes fluttering downward demurely. His attentions were clouding your caution, making you forget the circumstances that had brought you here.

Sukuna seemed pleased by your response. He took your hand and led you to a candlelit room where a feast awaited. You kneeled on plush cushions across from him. There, your eyes widen at the sight—dishes you could only dream of tasting.

“Uraume is my best cook. They know how to make delicious food,” he brags, pointing at the person with white bob hair with his eyes. Uraume bowed respectfully before excusing themselves.

As the night deepened, Sukuna kept your cup full, his burning gaze holding yours in the romantic glow. Here in this place of luxury, it was easy to forget he was someone who had stolen you away.

“Come.” He held out one of his hands. ��It is time you rested.”

Back in the bed chamber, he guided you down onto silken sheets while your pulse quickened. His eyes roamed your body hungrily before he leaned down to claim your lips in a deep kiss. You knew you should resist, but his touch ignited a dangerous fire inside.

His fingers trailed delicately along your skin as he peeled away each layer of your robes until you were laid bare before him. “You are so lovely, little one,” he rasped. He pressed you down into the silken futon, his eyes focused on you. “I will teach you pleasures fit for an empress,” he growled.

“And you will learn to crave my body above all else.”

His words sent a spike of fear through you, even as your traitorous body responded hungrily to his. His burning caress left no doubt of his intentions. You trembled, but didn’t refuse him.

Here in this beautiful prison, you were his to do with as he pleased. And some traitorous part of you craved to experience the passions he promised.

As Sukuna’s body covered yours, you surrendered completely to him. Within these walls, you now belonged utterly to him.

You had been living as Sukuna’s pampered pet in his lavish manor for several days now. He gifted you an ornate silk kimono, adorned your hair with jeweled combs, and ensured you lacked nothing. At night, he would lay you across silken futons and set your body aflame with new realms of pleasure.

But each morning after, as he caressed your skin and murmured endearments, doubts crept in. Were there others that he touched this way? The thought filled you with unease.

You wanted his passion reserved only for you.

When Sukuna appeared in your room this evening, he found you quiet and distant, your smile restrained. Brow furrowing, he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze.

“What troubles you, little one? Have I not provided for you well?”

You gathered your courage. “I… I have a request, My Lord…”

He raised one brow, “Oh? Speak.”

“If we are to share such intimacy, I wish it to be only between us. No other lover, in any way.” You held his gaze evenly. “Will you vow this, please?”

For a moment Sukuna only stared, stunned by your bold demand. Then a sly smile curved his lips.

“My little one wishes to tame me, is that it?” He trailed a finger lightly down your cheek. “You seek to bind me to yourself alone?”

Heart pounding, you gave one short nod.

Sukuna threw back his head with a delighted laugh. “You fascinate me endlessly. No mortal has ever dared make demands of me.” His expression softened by looking at your innocent face. “But for you, I will agree.”

He leans down, face to face with you, “From now on, I am yours alone.”

Relief washed through you at his oath. As Sukuna drew you into a passionate kiss, you yielded completely for the first time, holding nothing back.

“My sweet, little love…” He lifted you in his arms. “I will make you forget any existed before this night.”

And he did. Laying you down, hands and lips he worshiped you, wringing gasps and cries from your lips as you arched desperately, mindless and pleading beneath him.

At the height of ecstasy, his burning gaze held yours. His heated gaze seared into yours at the pinnacle, fierce and possessive. “No other shall ever know you as I do.”

The feeling when your body joined, the sensation was beyond words, it felt like coming home. Like a missing piece of your soul had been restored. Wave after wave of bliss crested over you both, leaving you entwined in breathless ecstasy.

As lantern light faded to silvery moonbeams, Sukuna held you close, your heartbeats synchronizing. You now belonged only to each other in body, heart, and soul.

“Mine,” Sukuna rasped against your skin, his canine digging into your neck, marking you as his. “Just as I am yours. This, I vow to you, little one, from now until the end of days.”

His words echoed long in your mind, even as spent passion gave way to sleep in his enveloping embrace. The King of Curses himself was now bound to you irrevocably. And you to him.

The vow had been spoken, the ritual complete.

The days had settled into a predictable routine in Sukuna’s residence. He would vanish for hours or even full days to attend to mysterious “business”, leaving you to wander the chambers and gardens alone. You never ask where he went or what occupied him. Some fears were best left unspoken.

But your heart would lift eagerly whenever Sukuna returned, no matter how late the hour. Just knowing he had come back to you was enough. You took to waiting anxiously by the engawa, ready to greet him.

At first, he returned spotless and composed. But soon the blood became noticeable.

It would decorate his arms, spatter his chest and face in drying rust-colored patterns. The life essence of whatever poor souls had crossed him in the nearby villages. You didn’t need to ask how it got there.

The first time, you gasped and shrank back in horror. But Sukuna just smiled and opened his arms to you. “Come, let us get cleansed of the day’s exertions.”

You forced yourself to look past the gore, seeing only your demonic lord who needed tending. Taking his hand, you led him to the bath chamber.

There you gently sponged away the carnage, breathing relief when his skin emerged clean again. Sukuna watched you intently, eyes glowing with unspoken emotions. You didn’t dare examine it too closely.

When you were done, he would pull you into his lap, nuzzling against your throat almost tenderly. As if your ministries had tamed the beast lurking within.

“My little one,” he would rumble. And your heart would swell under his praises.

Before long, you began living for his returns. The hours apart stretched endlessly, your thoughts consumed with concern for his well-being. Your chest would tighten with loneliness in his absence. Maybe you craved him because you have no one to come home to, that’s why you are willing to be with him.

Surely he must share your needs, right?

The moment his shadow appeared down the corridor, you flew to him, embracing him heedless of any lingering blood. Sukuna laughed indulgently, hands gentling your desperation.

“Such passion, little one. Did you miss me so terribly?”

You nodded, not caring how you exposed your dependence on him. He tipped your chin up, his sharp eyes looking at you softly. “As I missed you. The time apart is agony.”

His admission made you smile in relief. After bathing him, you would prepare tea and draw him into quiet conversation, savoring this domestic intimacy. Here with you, he almost seemed content.

At late night, his lovemaking took on new urgency, as if reaffirming your bond. You matched his intensity, wanting to erase any distance the day had built between you.

“You are all I need,” he whispered afterward, cradling you close. And you knew then you were hopelessly lost to this dangerous creature. He had become your entire world.

When Sukuna departed each morning, part of you went with him. Until he returned to make you whole once more. There was no denying the truth—you were his, mind, body, and soul.

You see, life with Sukuna provided came at a terrible price—the waiting.

And so you hatched a plan.

You requested the finest silks from the seamstress and described the revealing garment you wished to craft. An elegant yet alluring yukata, hinting at the beauty beneath.

On the night of his homecoming, you adorned yourself carefully, arranging your hair over your bare shoulders, sketching your lips crimson. The ensemble left you feeling exposed, but also powerful.

When Sukuna entered the bed chamber, the sight of you made him halt in his tracks. Eyes widened as they traced over you hungrily, taking in every contour the diaphanous fabric outlined.

“Little one,” he rasped. “You look like divinity itself. What is all this for?”

You steeled your nerves and went to him, guiding his fingers to untie your sash with hands that trembled.

“I wish to ease your burdens tonight, My Lord. Will you permit me?”

A growl escapes his throat as your robes slip to the floor. The intensity of his gaze seared into your skin everywhere it touched. Strong arms pulled you fiercely against him.

“You test my restraint, beloved. Are you certain?”

At your whispered yes, his control shattered. With infinite care he bore you down onto silken sheets, praising every inch of newly bared flesh until you were dizzy and pleading.

Even at its peak, he kept the pace languid—long, delirious strokes of passion. The pleasure was sweet agony. You arched and moved as one, minds entwining as deeply as your bodies.

When it ended, you were changed. Sukuna held you tenderly as languor claimed you both, as if you were the most precious treasure in the world.

Perhaps you should have been afraid of this obsessive devotion. But you could not imagine life without him now.

As nice as it is living comfortably with everything provided for you, sometimes his residence becomes a gilded cage. You yearned to walk beyond the gardens, to visit the nearby villages you glimpsed from afar.

After much pleading, Sukuna finally relented. “If it will make you happy, we shall go. But you must stay close to me.” His eyes held an unspoken warning.

The day came at last. Taking his arm, you ventured out onto the winding forest paths, buzzing with excitement. Sukuna watched you closely, as if to imprint each delighted reaction.

When the first simple thatched dwellings came into view, you gasped. “Oh, look! Real village life, just as I remembered.”

“Then let us explore it,” he said indulgently, strolling by your side.

You moved through stalls selling woven reed baskets, hand-dyed yukata, and carved jade amulets. The smells of grilling fish and blossom-scented steam from tea houses mingled in the air. Your smile was radiant.

Most villagers averted their eyes and scrambled away at the sight of his presence. But their fearful deference only seemed to amuse Sukuna as he guided you along.

Pausing by a fountain, you turned joyfully to him. “Thank you for this, My Lord. I haven’t felt this happy in…” Your voice trailed off as you noticed a young man staring from across the village square. His gaze was fixed on you, his handsome face breaking into a flirtatious grin, looking at you with his eyes signaling interest.

Before you could react, Sukuna had crossed the distance between them in two swift strides. You watched in horror as he seized the insolent youth by the throat and slammed him against a wall, baring razor fangs.

“You dare look at her that way?” he thundered. The young man choked out pleas for mercy as Sukuna’s grip tightened relentlessly.

“My Lord! Stop!” You rushed over, clutching his arm. “I beg you, let him go!”

With obvious reluctance, Sukuna released his hold and stepped back. The terrified man crumpled to the ground, wheezing with his face pale. You tugged Sukuna (he didn’t resist) away quickly as onlookers gaped.

Once you were back within the secluded forest path, he rounded on you. “Why did you stop me?” he demanded, eyes still burning with fury. “That whelp was openly desiring what is mine.”

You trembled. “He meant no true offense, My Lord.”

Sukuna exhaled harshly, drawing you against him. “You are too forgiving, little one. Next time I may not be so lenient.” The promise in his voice chilled you.

Nonetheless, in the days that followed, you persuaded him to let you visit the village markets again. Sukuna acquiesced, but his mood turned brooding whenever you went out together.

It was not long before a repeat incident occurred. A passing noble’s gaze lingered on you a moment too long. Sukuna's reaction was swift and merciless. Before you could intervene, the shrieking lord was engulfed in infernal flames, his ashes scattering to the wind.

This time, Sukuna was deaf to your pleas for restraint. “They continue testing me, presuming they can admire my possession with impunity,” he snarled. “I will suffer this insult no more.”

Numb with horror, you could say nothing as he took your arm and led you from that place of death.

Sukuna would never change his nature. His jealousy and possessiveness were as innate as the demonic power coursing through his veins. And you were helpless to curb them.

Trying to tame such a savage spirit had been foolish. Where his claim over you was concerned, no mercy would ever sway him.

The journey back to the estate was made in tense silence. You could feel the rage rolling off Sukuna in scorching waves as he strode ahead. His jaw was granite, fists clenched and shaking.

Only once you were behind the privacy of the chamber walls did he finally unleash it.

“How can you defend him?” he roared, making you flinch. “Those pathetic mortals who dared to covet what is not theirs. It is unacceptable!”

You stood your ground. “I make no defense, only ask that you temper reactions. This endless jealousy causes nothing but suffering.”

Sukuna’s eyes blazed, his voice dropping to a dangerous hiss. “You ask me to watch passively as they dishonor my claim on you? To permit their vulgar ogling?” He swept a hand savagely across a lacquered table, sending the vase crashing.

You jumped at the destruction but forced yourself to meet his volcanic glare. “I am not possession or prize to be claimed, My Lord. You cannot punish all for one foolish man’s gaze. I have told you this before, but I am not harmed.”

“Not harmed?” Sukuna bellowed, slamming his fists into the bloodwood pillar with a crack. “Not yet! But their desire will grow brazen if I do not act decisively now.”

He stormed toward you, making you back away instinctively. “You are mine. No other shall covet or touch what belongs to me. I would see this whole wretched village burn first.”

As his tirade raged on, you felt tears rising, spilling silently down your cheeks. The possessive diatribes, the limitless fury—you were exposing the folly of trying to gentle the devil’s heart.

Sukuna abruptly halted his pacing at the sight, chest heaving. His blazing eyes took in your hunched, trembling form. For an instant, something like shock flickered across his face. He blinked rapidly, swaying slightly.

“No… My little love…” All at once, the frenzied anger seemed to drain from him. He reached for you hesitantly, as if expecting you to recoil. When you stayed rooted, he enfolded you in his shaking arms.

“Forgive me,” Sukuna whispered. “I should not have raised my voice. But the thought of losing you…” One hand stroked your hair, then gently tipped your chin up. His thumb brushed away the tear tracks on your skin.

“You are everything to me in this wretched world,” he murmured. “I could not bear it if harm befell you.” His eyes were molten and his voice raw. “Tell me you know I would never let anything hurt you, not even myself in the madness of my rage.”

You searched his face and saw the sincerity burning there. With a fragile nod, you laid your head against his chest. His exhale was ragged with relief.

“I will try to be more merciful. For you, at least,” he sighs. “But you must understand it rages in my blood when I see them desire my most precious treasure.”

You stayed silent in his embrace. Perhaps this was the most he could concede—ferocity tempered with remorse. You could not change his possessive heart, only help him master what flowed within it.

And for now, it would have to be enough. His jealousy was a storm that would never fully be calmed. But like the storm’s eye, at the center there was still tenderness he reserved only for you.

Once more, the days dragged endlessly when Sukuna was away. You had explored every corner of the estate a dozen times over. The loneliness gnawed at you.

So when he left at dawn one morning, you made an impulsive decision. Donning a cloak, you slipped outside the manor walls while the servants slept. Your steps quickened as you neared the hill path leading down to the village.

You had only meant to take a brief, harmless walk to lift your spirits. But the smells of grilled squid and sweet adzuki buns drew you like a magnet. Your stomach rumbled, reminding you it had been ages since you tasted simple street food.

Checking over your shoulder, you darted to the nearest food stall when no one was looking. The elderly vendor smiled in delight as you pointed to the snacks that tempted you most. It felt deliciously naughty, this minor rebellion.

You were waiting for the bamboo skewer of piping hot squid when someone jostled you from behind. Whirling around angrily, you found yourself staring up at a rugged, unkempt man looming over you. His bloodshot eyes raked down your body in a way that made your skin crawl.

“Well now, what do we have here?” His words slurred drunkenly. “You’re that demon’s little toy, ain’t ya? His pretty pet.”

When you shrank away, the brute caught your wrist in a painful grip. Revulsion rose in you. “Let go of me!”

The man just sneered. “Where is your master now, hmm? Bet he doesn’t like you sneakin’ off alone.” He swayed closer, sour breath hot on your face. “Maybe I oughta teach you some manners, whore.”

Outraged tears stung your eyes. You opened your mouth to scream for help when suddenly the man’s hand was wrenched away from you with a sickening crack. His shriek split the air.

Whirling around, you saw Sukuna standing there, eyes blazing infernos. The man who had seized you was now suspended off the ground, clutching his mangled, dangling arm.

“Please, mercy!” he whimpered piteously. But Sukuna’s face was a merciless stone.

With a snarl, he slammed the offender down, pinning him by the throat. “You dare speak to her that way?” His voice was deathly quiet. “Dare lay your filthy hands upon her?”

The man gurgled pleas, legs kicking uselessly. Sukuna tightened his grip. “No. There will be no mercy for you.”

And before your eyes, he ripped the man’s head from his body in one savage motion. Blood sprayed hot across your face and cloak. The headless corpse slumped with a wet thud that echoed horribly in your ears.

You stood there, frozen. You’re sick to the stomach—it’s nauseating—looking at the brutal sight that your lover could do.

Rooted in shock, you barely registered Sukuna turning to you. He grasped your shoulders firmly. “Did he hurt you?” At your numb shake of the head, fiery rage flooded back into his eyes.

“Good. Because I would have drawn out his torment for years if he had.” With that, Sukuna flung the lifeless body contemptuously through the door of a nearby hut.

Screams arose from within as you stared at the gore coating Sukuna’s hands. The brutality finally jolted you from horrified paralysis. Voice trembling, you begged him to take you home.

The journey back was made in silence. Once behind the walls, Sukuna rounded on you like the last time.

“How could you go without my permission?” He paced like a caged beast. “See what nearly befell you? The filth who could do anything to you?”

You flinched beneath the verbal onslaught, too numb to defend yourself as he kept raging.

“You are forbidden from leaving again! Do you understand?” He seized your shoulders roughly. “It is too dangerous for you.”

You nodded, mute and hollow. With a harsh exhale, Sukuna pulls you against him as four of his arms envelop you in a warm embrace, some of the frantic anger leaving him.

“Forgive my harsh words, my little love. But I do not like you being treated like that.” His voice broke on the last word. He clutched you tighter, as if to reassure himself you were real.

After that day, whispers followed you through the residence like ghosts, for no clear reason. Servants offering polite smiles that never reached their eyes, only to resume their hushed gossip once you’d passed.

At first, you tried ignoring the sidelong glances and murmurs. But still, the cruel words leaked through.

“She is just a plaything to him.”

“Once the master is bored, she will be discarded.”

“He is only using her on the bed.”

“Once he tires of those pleasures, her time here will end.”

Their cruel words haunted you, sinking claws into vulnerabilities you’d buried deep. Did they speak the truth? Was your whole purpose here just to entertain Sukuna’s baser appetites? The thought you might be expendable shook you to your core.

You managed to conceal your anguish and distress at first. But the doubts festered, stealing your appetite and sleep. When Sukuna finally noticed the toll on your health, alarm flared in his eyes.

Gently taking your hands, he scoops you onto his lap, facing him. “What is bothering your pretty little head, hm? You know you can tell me anything.”

You shook your head, “It is nothing, My Lord. Not a big problem.”

“I do not like you lying to me, little one,” he shakes his head, not buying your secrecy.

“I am okay. Please, no need to be concerned about me.”

“How can I not? What is it? Tell me,” he holds your chin still to make you look at him.

Both of your stubborn banter goes back and forth until you’re both getting impatient.

You wavered, then spilled out the vile gossip you’d endured in silence. Sukuna listened gravely, thumb idly stroking your wrist. When you finished, he let out a long breath, gazing at you earnestly

“You believe their hateful lies? That you are some plaything to me? You know in your heart these claims are untrue.” He grasped your shoulders, staring intently into your eyes. “You are everything. Your faith in me is worth more than a million mortal lifetimes.”

He brought your hand to his chest, holding it over his steadily beating heart. “Do not let petty jealousies make you doubt what we share.”

Overwhelmed, you buried your face against him. “Forgive my doubts, My Lord,” you whispered.

“There is nothing to forgive. The fault is theirs, not yours.” Stroking your hair, he pressed a fierce kiss to your head. Then his tone turned cold. “As for these spiteful women, I will make them regret ever speaking such lies.”

You quickly squeezed his hands. “Please, do not harm them. I only wished to explain my melancholy, not see others punished.”

Sukuna frowned. “You ask me to ignore those who hurt you so? Who makes you doubt my devotion?” His grip on you tightened. “I cannot be so forgiving.”

“I know it comes from care,” you soothed. “But replying to anger with more anger will only breed misery.”

He paused, then exhaled harshly, pulling you close. Resting his forehead to yours, he went on. “I swear to you, my feelings run deeper than they comprehend.”

“Leave this to me now, little one. Just rest easy.”

True to his word, the gossip ceased quickly. You didn’t ask what Sukuna said or did to silence loose tongues. But the servants now bent over backward to please you, their once spiteful eyes now carefully respectful.

Their newfound reverence somehow bothered you more. But Sukuna seemed satisfied. “Let the wretches make amends for causing you pain,” he said nonchalantly.

Some part of you recoiled at his methods. Yet it warmed your heart to know he would avenge any slight against you without hesitation. Perhaps it was wrong to take comfort from his possessiveness.

But you needed to feel cherished after so much doubt. And Sukuna left no room for uncertainty in how deeply he treasured you. Each tender glance and touch slowly healed the wounds until you were whole again.

When he came to you beneath the silken sheets now, the passion held new meaning. A reaffirming of what you were to each other.

You were his sanctuary. Just as he was yours.

The gossip no longer stung when you knew his heart with such certainty.

Sukuna had told you he was taking a few days off to spend with you. With him home beside you for a blessed few days, the gloom cast over the estate seemed to lift. His four muscular arms caged you securely against his broad chest as you sank comfortably into his embrace.

He was attentive in ways you’d never seen before, constantly drawing you into his arms, asking questions about your childhood, your dreams, anything to get to know you better.

At first, you were shy, unused to being the object of such focused interest. But Sukuna’s patient gentleness soon had the words spilling freely from your lips.

You happily opened up to him in turn, chatting lightly about your days spent tending the garden, studying scripture with the monks, or watching the koi fish circle lazily in their pond. No detail was too small or mundane—he drank in every insight into your character with eyes that never once glazed in boredom.

He listened intently, his crimson eyes focused solely on you. As frightening as he could be, you knew this powerful being cherished you in his own way. You were likely the only person in the world he cared for.

When you finally worked up the courage to ask about his early life in turn, his gaze darkened briefly. “There is little of worth to tell,” he muttered.

He went on tonelessly to describe his parents casting him out as an infant, cursing his existence. Forced to eke out a living on the streets, he learned quickly that mercy was for the weak.

“I was not always like this,” he rumbled. “Once I was a human, born to parents who did not want me.” His fingers tensed where they rested on your back. “As an infant, they discarded me on the streets to die. But I survived, growing up feral and alone.”

You looked up at him sadly, heart aching at the thought of him helpless and abandoned with no one to care for him. You raised a hand to gently stroke his cheek.

Sukuna closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. “I do not tell you this for pity,” he said firmly. “My past made me strong.”

His eyes opened again. “When my cursed technique manifested, I used them without mercy, cutting down any who dared stand in my way. I reveled in my growing strength, the thrill of battle and blood... they satisfied me. I honed my skills until I became unmatched.”

You nodded solemnly. His description matched the legends told of the terrifying Ryomen Sukuna.

Now you know why he lacked mercy.

You take his hands in yours, kissing his palms. “The past is behind you now,” you told him. “What matters is who you choose to be from this day forth. My love for you is unconditional.” You smiled up at him warmly. “But I promise to teach you the ways of empathy and love, even if you protest.”

Sukuna huffed in amusement, the corners of his mouth quirking up. “Little one, you may try, but do not expect miracles. I am what I am.” But his embrace around you was gentle, belying his words.

You poked his chest teasingly. “I will make it my mission to show you how wonderful love can be, the joys it brings to our lives.” Laughing, you added, “Just you wait, I will have you reciting poetry and picking wildflowers before long!”

“Hmph, do not get carried away,” he grumbled, but you could tell he was secretly pleased by your playful vow.

You cuddled against his chest, determined to shower this damaged soul with all the love and tenderness he had missed in his tragic early years.

The next morning, as soft sunlight filtered into the bedroom, you lay wrapped in Sukuna’s strong embrace. Your head rested on his muscular chest, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat. His breathing was slow and even, still asleep.

You traced idle patterns on his bare skin, your fingertips grazing over the tattoos adorning his body. Your mind drifted back to the conversation from the night before when Sukuna had told you a bit of his past.

Abandoned and unloved, forced to survive on his own from infancy. Your heart ached for the small, helpless babe he had been. The thought of him growing up without affection or care weighed heavily on you.

You understood now why love and empathy were so foreign to him. But you were determined to show Sukuna what he had missed, to fill his long existence with the warmth and joy he deserved.

Your short mortal life worried you, however. Sukuna had lived for centuries, he would go on existing long after you passed on. Would he find someone new to love? How would losing you affect him? Immortal beings were not meant to give their hearts to fleeting humans.

You must have tensed in concern, because Sukuna began stirring, his four arms instinctively tightening around you. “What troubles you so early, little one?” his deep voice rasped, still groggy with sleep.

You tilted your head up to peer at him. “I was thinking about what you told me last night, about your past. My heart breaks imagining you alone as a child.”

He regarded you seriously. “It was long ago. Dwelling on what cannot be changed is pointless.”

“I know,” you murmured. “I only wish I could have cared for you then. But now I worry… what will happen when I am gone? My life is so short compared to yours. Will you find someone new to love?” Your voice caught on the last word as you averted your gaze. You weren’t sure you even wanted to hear the answer.

He was silent. When you worked up the courage to look at him again, his crimson eyes were looking at you intensely. With a swift, motion he flipped you beneath him, bracing his weight above you and capturing your face between his big hands.

“You think I could simply replace you when death takes you from me?” His thumb brushed your cheek tenderly. “No other has touched my soul as you have. Long was my existence before you, yet I was empty.” Leaning down, he touched his forehead to yours.

“Your fragile mortality may one day steal you from my side, but what we have cannot be replicated or replaced.” He lifted his head to gaze deeply into your eyes.

“When you are gone, I will be lost again. I accept that your life must end as mine continues.” His jaw clenched. “But I will find no peace with another. What we have is beyond replacement.”

Tears blurred your vision at his heartfelt words. You had not realized the depth of his attachment, that the absence of your love would leave him emotionally desolate.

You threw your arms around his broad shoulders. “Then we must make the most of the time we have,” you declared. “Fill our days with so much joy that you will carry the warmth of our love for eternity.”

Sukuna wrapped you tightly in his embrace. “Yes,” he agreed, nuzzling your neck. “I will cherish every precious moment with you, little one.”

His words made your heart clench, but you understood, he would never love another as he had you. Your lives were tragically misaligned, yet the love you shared transcended such limits.

You spent the day wrapped up in Sukuna, exchanging tender caresses, murmuring sweet nothings, strolling the grounds hand-in-hand. Every shared laugh, every affectionate glance was savored, imprinting your bond ever deeper.

As the sun sets in glorious color, you lay entwined together beneath the cover of a wisteria tree. Your head rested over Sukuna’s heart as he gently stroked your hair. His steady heartbeat and the rhythmic rise of his chest were deeply comforting.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” you whispered.

“As do I, little one,” he replied, his voice tinged with melancholy. “But we cannot halt the merciless passage of time.”

You leaned up to press a soft kiss to his jaw. “No matter how short my life, I am grateful every moment of it is spent with you.”

Sukuna cradled you close, distress evident in his eyes. “When I am alone again, I will find comfort in the memories we have.”

His grip on you tightened, as if he could hold you to this world through will alone. You tilted your head back to peer up at him. “And when I am gone, will you be okay?”

“I will endure it. As I have endured all hardship in my long life.” He traced his thumb lightly down your cheek. “It will not feel the same, my little love. But do not worry about me, I will be fine.”

Your heart clenched at the raw honesty in his normally stoic demeanor. On impulse, you stretched up to press a soft kiss to his lips. Sukuna went still for a heartbeat before responding in kind, lips moving gently against yours.

“Then do not dwell on the inevitable end,” you cup his face in your hands. “Think only of how much we mean to each other now. If my love can sustain you even a little while after I am gone, that will be enough.”

Sukuna pressed his forehead to yours. “I will brace it when the time comes. But for now, my world is only you.”

You kissed him tenderly, then settled against his chest once more. Bittersweet joy swelled your heart, knowing you had brought some warmth into Sukuna’s grim existence. Though fleeting and painfully finite, your mortal love was a balm to his ancient, scarred soul.

The years passed swiftly. Sukuna remained your steadfast companion as you grew from a young woman into old age. He was always there to hold you close, whisper endearments, make you laugh with his wit.

In the blink of an eye, your hair became streaked with silver. Your smooth skin wrinkled and your energy waned. But your love never faded.

Sukuna stayed by your side as you grew frail, cradling you tenderly through restless nights, patiently spoon-feeding you broth when eating became difficult. His eyes reflected centuries of sadness knowing your time grew short.

Finally, you lay weakly upon your futon as he stayed close by your side. Your breathing turned ragged and a violent cough wracked your body. He gathered you gently into his arms.

“The end is near, my little one,” he murmured, smoothing back your thin hair.

You gave him a quivering smile. “I am ready. Just stay with me, please.”

He pressed his lips to your wrinkled forehead. “Always.”

You spent your final moments gazing up at his face, etched into your mind after so many years together. His image would be the last you saw in this life. With a contented sigh, you closed your eyes for the final time.

Sukuna let out a broken noise, pulling you tightly to his chest as your body went limp. Rocking your still form, he wept for the first time in his long existence. Anguished sobs wracked his powerful frame.

He had known this moment would come, yet nothing could have prepared him for the sheer devastation of losing you. It felt as though part of his soul had been ripped away.

Sukuna had guarded your mortal form night and day in those final years. Now you slipped away before his eyes, leaving him utterly alone. The crushing pain made him understand the human concept of a “broken heart”.

But he took comfort knowing you had passed peacefully in his embrace. The only mercy was that you were spared a drawn-out decline. He had filled your short life with as much love as one man could give. He has known you for a short time compared to how you’ve known him for most of your life.

Wiping his eyes, Sukuna pressed final kisses to your cooled skin. He would honor you with a funeral befitting royalty. Then he must decide where to wander next. This place held too many haunting memories now.

Sukuna laid you gently on the futon and stood. He cast one last anguished look at your still face.

“My beloved…” he whispered. “No other shall ever take your place.”

Then he turned and strode from the room, jaw clenched against a fresh onslaught of grief. His steps were heavy with the unbearable burden of immortality and loss.

No, he doesn’t cremate you despite having the ability to do so. He doesn’t even want to think of burning you to ashes, or he might as well lose it and burn the world with it for taking you away too soon.

He buried you beneath the cherry tree where you’d spent so many blissful hours in his arms. He marked the site with a stone monument etched with his promise:

“In this life or the next, you are mine. None will ever love you as I have, little one.”

His task complete, Sukuna wandered for many years after. Though the sharp pain dulled to a persistent ache, the emptiness inside him never abated. He fulfilled his promise and took no other lovers, knowing they could only ever be hollow substitutes.

He will wait until his time comes no matter how long it takes to see you again in the afterlife.

He will wait long enough to see you reborn and claim you one more as his.

But the thing he knows for sure, you will always belong to no one but him.

I got emotional and carried away, I’m sorry 😭😭

1K notes · View notes

sickslimez · 14 days

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PU$$Y FAIRY! — NANAMI KENTO

SYNOPSIS...the last thing you expected to happen after having sex with your co worker, nanami, was for him to become obsessed with your pussy

INFO...nanami x fem!reader, p in v, oral (f!receiving), semi public sex (?), nanami is a fiend for you, jerking off, dirty thoughts, missionary, breeding, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

Nanami is usually a very tame and calm man, he knows how to keep his composure and doesn’t lose himself under pressure. That’s how others would describe him and that’s how he would describe himself, but just one feel and taste of your cunt changed everything in an instant. Each time he closes his eyes to sleep all he could envision is your cunt wrapped around him, squeezing him, milking him. Each time you pass by him in the office, he can’t help but remember the taste of you on his tongue, slurping up your juices and drinking them, eating you up like a starved man.

Ever since that night, he can’t stop thinking about you, his hand wrapped around his cock, imagining it was you fucking him, watching the way you cream around his cock. He cums so much each time, the sticky substance making a mess on his chest and hands, wishing he was filling up your hole, breeding your cunt and making you his. He’s never been so hot and bothered before, something about you just drives him crazy. He can’t stand another second of you ignoring him, acting like he didn’t have you screaming his name and clawing at his back while you came over and over again.

“Please, just let me taste her,” he begs. He’s on his knees in front of you, your legs spread as you sit on his desk, your tights ripped open and panties pushed to the side. Just your scent has him spiraling, salivating. Your fingers run through his blonde locks, gently pulling at them as guide his face closer and closer towards what he wants most. “Yes, please,” he mutters. His tongue darts out once he gets close enough, dipping between your wet folds, and now he’s completely lost in his head.

He shoves his face between your thighs, catching you off guard as his tongue dips into your sopping hole. His dick strains against the fabric of his slacks, tip leaking pre cum as he tastes you on his tongue. His eyes flutter shut, tongue swirling against your sensitive clit. He’s so eager, so greedy, pulling you back on his face each time you pull away from the overwhelming pleasure. “Fuck,” he moans, taking second to breathe. “Fuck, baby, you taste so good,” he pants.

He looks at you from his position, in love with the way your mouth hangs open and your moans spill from within. He doesn’t care if it gets messy, you rough up his hair. He’s been waiting weeks to have you at his mercy again. In minutes he has you cumming on his tongue, your thighs squeezing around his head as a string of curses fall from your lips. He pulls away and lands a feverish kiss upon your lips, cutting your moans short while your hands find their way to his belt, undoing it along with his pants.

Next thing you know, your legs are wrapped around his waist, skirt bunched up as he pounds into you. “You feel so fucking good, oh god,” he grunts, looking down at where the two of you meet, a white ring forming at the base of his cock. Your pussy was so warm and wet, so addictive. It was hard to keep himself from folding you in half and fucking you until you couldn’t walk.

Your pussy clenches around him, sucking him back in each time he threatened to pull out. He reaches a hand down, his thumb rubbing your clit in circles. Your eyes roll back, mind foggy with pleasure. “Yes! Yes! I’m so close!” You cry out, sucking in a breath as your brows furrow. He keeps the same pace, knocking into your g-spot over and over until your legs start to shake. “Oh my god!” Your eyes clench shut. You come undone around him, Nanami holding you close to him as he fucks you through your orgasm.

“That’s it baby. Doing such a good fucking job for me,” he whispers in your ear. He feels your walls spasm around his dick, only adding onto his pleasure. He starts thinking back to all those nights he fantasized about cumming inside of you, all those lewd thought of filling you up and breeding you. He feels so dirty thinking about, but at the same time he doesn’t care. He wants nothing more than to see his cum oozing out of you. “Gonna let me cum in this pussy, huh?” His thrusts grow sloppier, teetering on the edge. He couldn’t wait any longer, letting his thoughts get the best of him as he pushes his hips against yours, hot spurts of sticky cum coating your walls.

You gasp at the sensation, caught by surprise but still so turned on. “Oh shit, baby,” he shudders. “Ah—fuck.” He thrusts into you once more before slowly pulling out. You spread your legs for him, feeling his cum leak out of your hole. “This pussy is always so good to me.” He pushes the cum back in with his thumb, making sure not to waste a drop. He grabs your chin, messily kissing you, tongue sliding against yours. Nanami hopes you know this won’t be the last time he’s cumming in you again.

973 notes · View notes

randomdragonfires · 26 days

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I'm A Fire And I'll Keep Your Brittle Heart Warm [One Shot]

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

SUMMARY | Flowers come to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage.

WARNINGS | 18+; Mild Smut.

WORD COUNT | 9.6k

A/N | Yet another repost, yay! This one was written based off an ask sent to me by @wonderbias and beta read by the loml @humanpurposes

Their union began as a fragile, delicate one.

By all accounts, Aemond Targaryen was a fine man that any maiden in the Seven Kingdoms would be proud to be with, should he– a skilled dragonrider, a scholar, a respectful man of honor, a prince worthy of his name and blood– choose to take her to wife.

If only he was not so stoic and dull, they said. The very jovial little lady of Highgarden will be bored of him in moments!

‘Twas the first of many whispers he heard of his apparent inadequacy with regards to his impending nuptials and marriage, and even though it killed him, he could not bring himself to disagree. The woman that he was to marry – the beautiful, kind, ladylike wisp of a girl that was to be entrusted to him– was a fair maiden who lit up any chamber she graced with her presence, a stark contrast to how he seemed to darken those that he stalked into.

Charming girl like that, she will hate him, they said. The poor thing is probably scared.

Every lady dreamed of chivalrous knights and charming princes, and Aemond knew very well that he was far from being either. They dreamed of charming men who would immortalize them in song, whose looks could thaw the hearts of the coldest women in an instant. Aemond knew very well that the Gods had refused him the chance to even try with her– what with their allowance of his mutilation at a tender, young age.

Even with just one eye, he saw many possibilities but to his dismay, he did not imagine any outcome would be favorable to him. With the scar he carried on his face and the weight of the world on his shoulders, Aemond was never meant to be the man that his intended deserved.

And so, he decided that he would keep her at arm's length and in consequence, save his pride. He'd reject her before she rejected him. He may not know it now, but matters of the heart are fickle– and to the utter disappointment of his pride, his little lady rose was very easy to love.

He would not be caught dead pathetically pining after a woman who would soon be his. He would not.

And so, their courtship remained devoid of romance and scandal. His family was made privy to each of their highly appropriate conversations, with them taking turns in chaperoning their walks through the gardens.

There was nothing that he wished to share, for he did not want to lose too much. He did what was expected of him, and she did the very same. Soon, there was respect, admiration, and a whole host of burgeoning feelings that Aemond tried hard to suppress - feelings that he clearly did not see in her eyes as she dared to look into his.

How could she feel anything for a stoic, dull, one-eyed man like him?

As he draped the red and black cloak over her shoulder and pledged to be her man of liege and limb, he told himself that he would not try. He would not give into fantasies, only to be met with rejection from a woman who was too good for him; one that may realize it soon enough as well.

After all, Aemond Targaryen had his pride. He would feed himself to the dragons before admitting to someone else being better than him, let alone be rejected by that same person. He was certainly not going to woo her, not when he knew that he would only be met with contempt and disgust.

It did not matter how badly he wanted to. He would not allow himself to succumb to such idyllic daydreams. He would not.

When night fell and the wedding feast was in full swing, his new good-father was the only one who could give his brother a run for his money with how deep he was in his cups. It was obvious how the wine-induced stupor affected the fat lord Tyrell as he bellowed for his daughter and his new good son to take the lead and join in the dancing and merriment.

Aemond was ready to retch at the thought, but what stopped him from making his irritation clear was the possibility that she may want to dance. His wife. He had seen her dance before– as graceful as an otherworldly swan. She had a better grasp at frivolous courtly affairs than he did.

His wife may want to dance. His wife, his wife, his wife. A little rose, his.

He shuffled his feet under the cloth-covered long table and allowed his one eye to train over his clothed boots. In spite of all the dancing lessons he had taken with Helaena, Aemond had never indulged before– and now, he was expected to entertain his bride each time a song played. The thought made him want to press his feet into the ground further than he already has, in hopes that perhaps the ground would swallow him whole.

His view of the dancing crowd had been taken from him by half along with his eye. Without the luxury of complete vision, he could not dance without bumping into everyone that was on his blind side. Now, he would have to– if she wanted to.

He thought he could say no, but he feared that if he were to look her in the eyes, he'd never be able to. Perhaps that was why he had refused to even look at her throughout the ceremony, despite her many admirable– yet failed– attempts to catch his line of sight and share a smile.

It was her meek, mouse-like voice that brought him out of his nervous trance. “We do not have to," she said, the words falling out of her lips like a song.

“You like to dance, my lady,” he said.

“But you do not, my prince. It takes two.” Her surprisingly understanding words were followed by a timid smile, one that threatened to rip through his defenses and get to him.

In the crowded throne room, as his new bride sets aside her happiness to accommodate his preferences, Aemond worried that his self-imposed distance from her may not last too long if she kept offering him kind glances and sweet smiles– no matter how forced and dutiful he knew them to be.

He had much to lose; his pride, his heart. He would not risk it, even if she was seemingly easy to love. He would not. He would not. He would not.

After all, Aemond Targaryen had his pride.

Soon after, her drunk nuisance of a father had called for the bedding. Aemond did nothing as his trembling bride was ushered away by the handmaidens and ladies, each of them wriggling her jewelry off as she stumbled in her steps before they carried her off.

Should he have asked for a private bedding? In hindsight, he believed he wronged her by throwing her to the mercies of the court in her vulnerability. Equally, he did not want to attempt a show of compassion– not when she may not even welcome it from the one-eyed fiend of a husband that she was stuck with.

When he walked into the chambers in his loose linen shirt and breeches, his breath hitched in his throat. Helaena had once told him that the Septas refer to women’s maidenheads as flowers. “Beautiful, ripe and ready for the plucking,” she had said, keeping her nose pointed upward in her imitations. He'd never given the words much thought.

Until now.

There she was. His wife, his flower, his rose, ready for plucking, in her translucent white shift and now untamed hair, like a fae in a dream. How could she possibly be his? How could she possibly be happy with a man as monstrous as him for a husband?

Her eyes, wide and fearful, flittered about his face, in his mind an expression of her repulsion. It pained him to think she did not even give him a chance.

But she was accommodating about my not wanting to dance…

Perhaps she did like to dance; just not with him.

These unsaid words and subsequent misunderstandings plagued their wedding night. Both believed the other did not desire them.

That night, she offered her flower to him– as is her duty– and he took great care in taking it from her. He made sure she was pliant, so that when he took it, she would be as glad and thrilled as he was, regardless of how well-hidden his happiness was.

He may have grimaced in disgust at Aegon's vulgar demonstrations and lessons about the pleasures of the marital bed, but he was thankful as he heard her moan out his name in a silent scream while she convulsed around his fingers. The silent sounds of her choked out moans and the heat engulfing his fingers may have very well been enough for Aemond to find release, and he reminded himself quickly that she will not want him when they're done. How could she, deformed as he was?

And so, he stopped wanting to be good for her, and simply endeavored to get it done with.

She was only more than willing to allow him to take her flower. If he was not so preoccupied with his own insecurities, he may have seen that it had gone past duty for her. Her loud moans proved the fact, and left little room for dispute (or doubt, in the minds of the prying ears that stayed close to the doors of their chambers, and the sharp eyes of the council who were now shuffling out of their seats).

He inched into her, and her tears and turned face only seemed to make it harder for him. Was he so beyond hope that she could not even look? What was it? Had he hurt her? He did not ask, lest he risk finding out that he was a disappointment. So he lost himself, drowned in his own head as he mechanically moved in and out, in and out, in and out.

Duty. Duty. Duty.

If he had not been so preoccupied with tearing his own being to shreds in his mind, he may have heard her moans as the bright pink tip of his cock hit a rough spot in her, allowing her pleasures and experiences she did not believe she would ever know. He may have known that she desired him, just as he did her.

His self-deprecating thoughts couldn't have been farther from the truth– he may not have realized it that night, but he would soon enough.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the first ever flower she gave him– whether she chose to see it that way or not– came to him on their wedding night, in the form of her maidenhead.

Tourneys were a time of celebration for her.

There was something to be said about the romance of watching men ask women for favors and fight with all the might and grace that they possess. She had often dreamed that a dashing knight or a courteous prince would perhaps approach her for her favor, and then perhaps crown her Queen of Love and Beauty. If she was lucky, the man would court her too.

The man she married was the antithesis of all that she hoped a tourney would bring.

Her husband was not a bad man by any means– no. He was a good and respectful husband, slightly removed and isolated for her outward nature, but she did not mind. There were worse men to be married to, and even if he never went out of his way to be there for her, he certainly treated her well when they were in each other’s presence.

She tried with him, Gods bless her.

She would try to catch his eye at the supper table, or watch him train in hopes that he would meet her watchful gaze once or twice. She would watch in a sleepy haze as he woke early in the morn, long before she had the strength or consciousness to wish him a good day, hoping he would turn to do the same. He never did.

More often than not, a curt nod and a wavering glance was all she’d get. Still there were brief, hopeful moments that kept her active in her pursuit to build a friendship with her husband.

She would have done something absolutely obnoxious— acts that would have him sneering if it was someone else– and she’d see it. That little hint of a smile, waiting to bubble through the surface, just by the corner of his pink lips, that she would have missed if she blinked. Each time there was a tenuous beginning of a hesitant smile, she felt a tiny sliver of hope.

He was not so intimidating to her now as he was in the initial days of their union– no. In a little corner of her mind, she acknowledged that fact– that is what helped her find his hand and hold it tight in nervousness, before she could even comprehend the intimacy of the act.

The knight who had just taken a harsh tumble from his horse was carried away by servants, with his head beaten bloody and hands hanging limp by his side. If she did not know better, she would have thought him dead.

The champion then raised his hands up in victory. Thunderous clapping sounds overshadowed all else around her, but she could not bring herself to join. She was still stunned by how the other knight had fallen, and was yet to let go of Aemond’s hand.

She felt the bile rise in her throat, so she brought her other hand to her chest and bowed her head down, a feeble attempt at keeping the vomit at bay. It was awhile until she managed to catch her breath again, and by then the celebrations had moved on from celebrating the champion to the crowning of his Queen of Love and Beauty.

The eldest Lady Baratheon smiled coyly as she received the wreath of winter roses, followed by a chaste kiss to her cheek. The crowd gasped at how brazen the act was, with neither of them being married, but the high of winning makes men do the most peculiar things, she supposed. In the back of her mind, regardless of how uneasy she felt, she wished– desperately.

How she wished it was her.

A childish fantasy really. What was a publicly gifted crown of flowers worth in the face of what she had? She was a Princess of the realm now, married to a skilled dragonrider from a family of illustrious history and blood. Any children they may have will be immortalized in the annals. Nothing. A crown of flowers was worth nothing when compared to what she had– or at least, that is what she would tell herself.

And yet, she craved the romance. She had always enjoyed the idea of being loved and cherished. Her husband respected her, and if she was feeling bold, she’d say he liked her– but he certainly did not love her. That much she was certain of. When she naively wished that he’d crown her, she asked if he was going to enter the lists. He had sharply turned so quickly that she feared she had angered him.

“I don’t give a sh…” He had sighed before speaking again, as though he felt tested. “I do not care for tourneys.” The sharpness in his voice had hurt her, and she did not speak of it again.

Their marriage was a decent one– but it held none of the love she hoped to have, despite all her attempts.

Did he find her so disagreeable?

All of a sudden, his hand felt cold to the touch and she let go of him like he burned her. The heat came back to her hand just as it showed on her cheeks, and his had turned cold from having lost her touch so abruptly.

“I’d like to get some fresh air, husband,” she said, and rose before he could even ask if she needed him to accompany her.

Her quick walk took her to the tent where the court ladies had been sitting, and she had stepped in right in time to hear them gossip– about her husband.

“Well he must keep it on while they… you know! It can be jarring to look at, I’m sure it is!”

“It must be terrible to see it up close all the time. I can hardly look at him from across the chamber!”

He is certainly unnerving. It does make you wonder though, do you think they actually…” the woman lowered her voice to match the vulgarity that was to follow. “Do you think they actually fuck? She cannot possibly want to, and she is not with child either…”

“Well, does it really matter if she wants to? He’s a Prince, and her husband. He’ll take his pleasure regardless.”

Regardless of where she and her husband stood, she would not stand for their marriage to become fodder for court gossip. If she stayed quiet for any longer while these empty-headed women berated her husband, she would be insulting him herself.

“Might I ask what is so amusing?” she said with sharp eyes and a tilted head. The sweat on their faces upon her arrival was apparent, and so was their nervousness.

“My Lady, we were just–”

“Princess,” she corrected.

“Yes of course, Princess. We were just–”

“Making presumptions about my marriage?”

“No… we just…”

“Don’t deny it,” she seethed, anger looking completely foreign on a soft, comely face like hers. Her nostrils flared and her nose went red in her current state, but there was no way she could stop now.

“The next time you feel the need to comment on such matters , perhaps you will all learn to remind yourself that he is a Prince of the realm and I am his wife! There will be suitable punishment, and you will all be dismissed from court at my pleasure, disgraced and husbandless. Now, we wouldn’t want that, would we?” Her words were cutting and sharp, and they had the younger ladies bowing their heads in fear almost immediately.

“I’ll have you all know that unlike the other men of the court, Prince Aemond’s scar came to him along with the largest dragon in the world. His bravery only makes him more handsome to me.”

She then fixed her attention onto the married lady of the bunch and delivered a questionable blow that she would certainly feel bad about later. “If you’ve been led to believe that the man takes his pleasure from his wife even if she does not want to, then perhaps your marriage is a lot worse than I thought. Your husband must have no regard for your wants, unlike mine. And for that, I am truly sorry.”

She did not wait for them to respond as she gathered her skirts and walked out of the tent, feeling largely annoyed and satisfied to an extent. But as she began her walk back, the fear of news of her anger reaching her husband hit her like a harsh and heavy wave.

Would he call her insolent and disgraceful? Has she damaged her marriage more than it already has been?

She did not have to wait long for her answer, for Aemond had been just a few steps behind her, watching the entire scene unfold. The angry flush on her face left her as quickly as it had come, replaced by a skittish nervousness that led to her shuffling her feet as she stood before him, at a complete loss for words.

She swallowed the spit gathering in her mouth, throat bobbing as her head remained facing down to the floor, awaiting a scolding from him for her absolutely inexcusable behavior; her husband was a man who knew his courtesies, after all. He could not possibly be happy with how she carried herself and disappointed him.

“You do not look well. Let me walk you to our chambers,” was all he said before he led her away with a hand on the small of her back.

She remained worried that he was perhaps leading them to privacy and silence so he could punish her while being undisturbed. She could not have been farther from the truth.

She expected him to scream at her, forget all the courtesy that he had shown her and throw his words at her without care. What she was not prepared for, was for him to hold her chin between his thumb and index fingers, pulling her face up to meet his.

He curiously inspected her, almost as though her little show of anger thoroughly amused him. She would not be surprised if it did– she had never been so outward in her anger in the two months that they had been married; this was a completely new side to her that he was now privy to.

“What was that, wife?” His words were measured and cut.

“They…” She was stunned to find that, despite her tongue becoming loose in moments of anger, it was hard for her to speak right now. So, she chose to gulp once more and tried to look someplace else. The uncertainty in his sharp, one-eyed violet gaze was becoming too much for her to bear– but Aemond did not give up easily. He kept her head held in place as she desperately waited for the words to come to her.

“They were being crude, and insulting you.”

He looked at her for a moment, his sharp gaze refusing to waver as the sunlight pierced through the glass windows of their chamber. He then let go of her, and handed her a goblet of wine to calm her clearly unsteady senses. He watched as she took little sips from the chalice, the restless turning of the wheels in his mind apparent on his face.

Soon after, he made up a sham of a reason about having to leave when the cheering crowds became louder and louder. She nodded and continued to sip, completely oblivious to the change of heart that her husband was having as she wondered why he brought her back to their bed.

She did not know the thoughts that now ran fast and surely in his mind. She did not know that he thought his eye had cost him a chance at a happy marriage with her. She had no idea of knowing how conflicted he felt at the new realization, for his sculpted face gave nothing away.

He turned to face her with a hand on the door. “Thank you,” he mumbled.

She nodded and smiled meekly while he stalked back to the festivities.

He held his hands tightly behind him as he tried to make sense of how light his heart felt in comparison to the rest of him.

Back in the chamber, she blushed. For all her worry that he may have been disappointed, she had been completely floored by how he had responded– he was thankful. She berated herself for not considering the possibility– and smiled at the realization that for all her husband’s prowess as a warrior, in times like these, he needed a champion too.

That night, Aemond burned the midnight oil while reading in the library, trying to still his racing heart and make sense of how it leapt at newfound thoughts of his little wife.

Across the Holdfast, in the soft candlelight of their shared chambers, she sat on her husband’s dear chair, looking at her handiwork– an embroidered silk tourney favor, with a little rose.

Her husband may not care for tourneys, but making the favor allowed her the luxury of thinking that should the possibility of him willingly entering the lists come around, he would do so with her gift on his lance. Mayhaps he would crown her Queen of Love and Beauty too– the thought makes her blush.

She would give it to him should he ever choose to partake someday. Until then, it would be safely hidden away in her shelves, amidst her gowns and other possessions.

Flowers have came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the second flower that was intended for him– despite the fact that she was yet to give it to him– came to him on the day of the the twins’ name day tourney, in the form of a rose, embroidered onto a tourney favor.

They have come to enjoy each other's company.

Her coming to his defense while expecting nothing in return had lit a fire in Aemond that he could not seem to quell. What he believed she had rejected him over, she had actually taken to being proud of. What he had believed was his one big, obvious and visible fatal flaw, was something that she had taken to holding in high regard.

I’ll have you lot know that unlike the other men of the court, his scar came to him along with the largest dragon in the world. And his bravery only makes him more handsome to me.

Her words rang in his mind like the definite tolling of the Great Bell at the Royal Sept. With each chime, her assertiveness on the matter came back to linger in his thoughts, he had fallen for her – bit by bit.

Feelings had always been a conundrum to Aemond, one that he did not entirely understand or even want to. But now, with a wife who warmed him and his heart slowly but surely, with her lovely smiles and nervous face, he found that he would like some certainty in the face of all that was uncertain in his heart.

He did not know if he loved her just yet. But what he did know was that, at the pace that she had set for them, it may be a very short while before he does. His wife. His wife, his wife, his wife.

His, his, his.

Coming to terms with having a wife that actually desired his company– and him, surprisingly enough– had spurned his attempts to bring some sort of intimacy to their marriage. Gods knew that she had tried, only to be rebuffed rudely by him in the initial days of their marriage. It was a time that he now felt deep regret and shame for, one that he would not rest until he had made right.

He needed her to see that he wanted to try.

He did not know how to be the charming prince from a bard’s songs. He did not know how to make women laugh like Aegon; be as sweet and kind as Helaena; or as chivalrous and perfect as Daeron.

But what he did know was respect. Aemond understood respect as something that was earned by everyone around him, but to his wife, it should have been unconditional. It should have come to her the day he had cloaked her and made her his– but it did not. Now, he intended to make it right.

He needed her to see that he wanted to try– which is how he found himself with her on his arm, as they walked hand in hand through the corridors of Maegor’s Holdfast towards their chambers. Ah yes, hand in hand. Another one of the little joys that he savored like it was his last day alive.

Their initially cold marriage had also been fueled by his blatant refusal to simply be near her, much less touch her. Why would she have wanted to be touched by a one-eyed monster, such as the likes of him?

But the moment he realized that she did not consider him so– not in the least– led to a warmth seeping through his blood, making him crave her so much that his heart hurt. If she did not mind it, why must he not exercise his liberties? And if there was some joy to be derived from it, why would they not want to indulge?

And so he had begun. A stolen touch here, a featherlight graze there.

His huge, calloused hand, seemed to be always holding her dainty one as he accompanied her throughout their time in the castle; on the small of her back as they maneuvered through feasts and dances; around her waist as they closed the distance between each other in their sleep, with her back to his chest; clutching onto her thigh to keep her in place for when she turned around and draped her tiny leg upon his waist.

His hands, all over her.

It was not just these fleeting, quick touches that Aemond had grown to enjoy. With their bond growing stronger with each passing moment, he had realized that their marital duties were simply not duties anymore. They had gone from believing that the other had tolerated their presence, to trying their level best so that the other would know how much they desired them. The growth of their marriage was evident in how their carnal indulgences had evolved.

Where he had held himself to hover over her so as to not facilitate any unnecessary touches, he had now taken to covering her entire being with his own. His hands around her hip as he pounded into her; her hands on his chest as the tip of her fingers grazed and pinched at his nipples. His hands in her hair as he mouthed at her heaving breast; her hands around him as she held onto him as tightly as she could, never wanting to let him go. His hands on her cunt as he drew peak after peak from her before thrusting himself into her; her hands around his cock as she pumped him before impaling herself by straddling him, just the way he liked.

Their sounds of pleasure had been held back and muffled in the beginning, but now they were uninhibited sounds taken by the wind, made with the intent of being heard and making desires known.

Oh yes, their marriage had grown.

This is what Aemond had been pondering as he led her through, with servants making their way for the young prince and princess as she held onto her husband with one hand, and a piece of rolled parchment and some charcoal on the other. He enjoyed their touches now, and it made his heart soar that he did not have to doubt her want for him either.

Yes, they could make something out of this.

“How was your time in the gardens, wife?” It made him happy that with the growth of their marriage, she had taken to exercising her liberties. So, when she had come to him requesting charcoal and bound parchment so she could begin drawing again, he was only happy to oblige.

“Good. I managed to sit and watch the flowers flit about in the wind for a time, and I drew a bit as well. Then the court ladies came to join me as they…”

Aemond listened to his wife as he sat himself on his chair by the hearth, most intently, and with the utmost concentration that he could muster. He could not bring himself to make selfless romantic declarations of love, or speak to her more than he was able. But he could listen, and that is what he would do.

Not a word unheard, not a moment missed. He needed her to see that he wanted to try.

She prattled on and on about her day, and how the court ladies had gossiped about each other when they thought the other wasn’t listening. He listened to the way her voice heightened when her recollections were happy, and he noted the way she frowned when she was in disapproval. He observed how her eyes widened at shocking narrations, and how her hands seemed to move like they had a life of their own.

He kept observing, losing himself in his newfound knowledge of her, her, her… and it was not until she stood close to him, her body slotted between his legs as she held her hands behind her back that he realized she had stopped speaking.

“Go on.”

He did not expect to be given something, not when his name day had just passed. But that is exactly what happened.

“For you,” she said. With her raised eyebrows and coy smile, she managed to place a parchment roll into his hand. Aemond made note of how her head faced down and her feet shuffled as she stood in wait for his approval.

He unrolled the parchment, careful to not cause even a stray tear at the edges. His eyes raked over the drawing, one of clear skill and years of training of the highest level– one befitting a lady.

“I shall treasure it, thank you.”

She smiled at his acceptance, and he nodded. He was not a smiling man, but he hoped that she knew how much he appreciated these gestures. He hoped that their marriage had grown enough for her to notice his quirks, just as he had made note of hers.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the third flower that she had given him was a charcoal sketch of a rose, into which she had poured her heart and soul.

As the days passed, their mornings became brighter.

While she had hoped that the initial days of their marriage would have some semblance of love, and if not, at least affection to some extent, her hopes had been quickly dashed with the closed off and curt behavior that her husband seemed to have made his own. Neither did he ever wish her a good morrow upon sunrise, nor did he kiss her goodnight like in the songs.

But now, there was more.

Where there was coldness, there was now warmth. It was not heat, not like wildfire, no– it was warmth, like from the calm blaze of their hearth. She might not have awoken to a smile, no– her husband was not a smiling man– but she always woke to an arm snaked over her breasts, pressing into her. Where there was distance, oceans between them, there was now a shared intimacy, one that they had both been quietly happy about. She was not put to sleep with a kiss, but whenever she slept on the chaise waiting for him to arrive, he now ensured that she was put into comfortable clothes and carried to their bed with care.

He may not have cared for her in the beginning, but she knew he did now. Her husband was not a romantic man, but his small gestures were enough to make her feel happy and content.

The shift in their dynamic was not just visible in their daytime activities, but in the passions of their marriage bed as well. On the first night that they had coupled, he had been careful, experimental, doubtful. But as the days went by, he had become surer, rougher… insatiable.

She enjoyed this new side to him. She enjoyed being the woman that belonged to a fierce prince, the one that he so clearly desired. She enjoyed being held by him as he moved her up and down his cock, his head buried in her breasts as he breathed in the heady smell of sweat and sex. She enjoyed being impaled by him, her small body being split into two, all while having him whisper words of appreciation in her ears.

My little wife, my little flower. Made for me… only for me, he would say. Tell me who this cunt belongs to, he would growl, hands slapping her little nub over and over until she caught her breath, found her voice again and appeased him.

You! Gods… to you, my prince, she would whine, holding his hand in place, hoping he would fuck her with his fingers once more, just the way she liked.

It came as no surprise to her that ever since they had become welcome to each other’s affections, they had been a lot more active in their marriage bed– so much so that the lewd moans and loud curses had become court gossip.

When she had addressed the matter with him once soon after they had fucked, Aemond had smiled, albeit darkly– the only kind of smile that suited him. Dragons do not concern themselves with the opinions of sheep, he had said. His insinuation that she was now a dragon too, all while his warm breath fanned her neck and his large hands squeezed her backside, was all she needed to quell her worries.

And of course, as was the natural order of these things, she was now with child.

She had been overjoyed when she had found out, and a tad relieved too. The court ladies whispering about her womb was not something she appreciated– their assumptions about her being barren, even less. So when she found out, she insisted that she be the one to break the news to her husband– her time as an expectant mother would never completely be her own, given the station she had now married into.

But this, this moment could be hers and his. It would be theirs alone.

And so, she sat in wait at the training grounds, watching him as he expertly maneuvered his sword and slashed at his mentor, Ser Cole. Dodge, lunge, slash. Dodge, lunge, slash. Dodge, lunge–

Ser Cole had bested him, having noticed the predictability in his movements. Aemond of course, being the headstrong man that he was, refused to give up. The anger in his face at being won over in a fight did not escape her, and she would be lying if she said it did not awaken desire in her once more. Before she could think further however, one of the lords in the audience had piped up.

“Perhaps the Prince would benefit from a token of luck from his dear lady wife!” He said, and the watching crowd around them seemed to agree as they cheered and whistled. Aemond was flummoxed, not knowing how to cope with being faced with the topic of his wife while in the middle of a fight. It was only then that he noticed her, red-faced and smiling as she was– before he could say anything, she had taken the lead.

“I’m afraid I’ve come empty handed, my lord. I’ve nothing to offer him right now!” She quipped with a smile. It had warmed him to know that she was jovial enough for the two of them, allowing him the luxury of staying quiet as she became his champion during situations like these.

“Ah well, he knows you’re here now, Princess! If that does not add to his fire, I do not know what will!”

Perhaps it was her presence, or it was his own prowess as a swordsman. But Aemond was quick to come through this time around. The crowds cheered for their Prince, and so did the man who had taught him to be all that he was.

“Well met, my prince,” Ser Cole said. He patted her dragon prince on his shoulder and walked over to where the swords were arranged. Aemond quickly followed in reverence to his teacher, one that he did not freely give to most. Soon after, the crowds had dispersed, and she watched as his slender, tall form stalk towards her.

“Since when do you frequent the training grounds, wife?”

“Can a wife not seek her husband out when she wants to?”

She could not have imagined rhetorics like these tumbling out of her mouth in the initial days of their union. But they were now closer than they had ever been, and she had discovered that it would not hurt to take initiative, especially given how quiet of a man her husband could be.

He was not the charming prince from the books or the songs, but she certainly loved who he was– inquisitive, considerate and respectful.

“Hm. Perhaps.”

Their walk back to their apartments was a slow and quiet one, with her knowing that he preferred his moments of quiet soon after his training. They soon settled into the solar, with the food spread out for them to break their fast.

As was his habit, Aemond stripped himself of his clothes as she checked the water in the tub with the tips of her fingers, water rippling as her hands moved. He was quick to step in and let his hands rest on either side of the tub, his legs ramrod straight but slowly loosening up as she ran a washcloth over him with a gentle softness that is most unlike him.

Her hands glided over his chest, arms and he caught hold of her when her hands moved to clean his neck, beckoning her to come closer. “My dutiful little flower, hm? Come to assist her husband and answer his every beck and call.”

“I am nothing, if not dutiful.” She said, playful smile teasing him as her breasts threatened to spill out of the neckline of her dress– causing his cock to half-harden at the sight. She kissed his cheek and set the washcloth down, hands traveling to his alabaster hair as she ran her fingers through it, allowing her wet hands to trudge through. When she was done, he was quick to pull at her hand from his side, causing her to bend to meet him, eyes to eye.

“You have a council meeting to get to, husband. Now is not the time.”

She knew very well what he wanted. It was what she wanted too– which is precisely why her own protests meant absolutely nothing to her as she gave in, dress riding up to her thighs and billowing wet in the water as she straddled him. Her cunt was already soaked for him, and he was hot and ready from all the energies that training seemed to have put into him. She rocked her hips forward and backward, adjusting to his girth, while sighing and breathing at the feeling of having him in her. It did not matter how many times he’d taken her, she would never get used to feeling so full.

Soon enough, he had her held harshly by her waist in a bruising grip, his teeth nibbling at her sensitive nipples as he moved her up and down, up and down, up and down. The water crashed out of the tub like waves crashing onto shore and she was quick to fall apart in a mix of pain and pleasure, moaning his name in her broken voice, followed by a silent scream. His release followed soon after, cock twitching in her as he drew her closer, closer and closer still. When she felt his cock soften after a time, she got up and he let her, following close behind.

“You fought well today, husband.” She said, in a feeble attempt to coerce a conversation from him as they sat at the table. He was a man of silence, and she was not. He did not prefer it, but she would try anyway - because there were times when he indulged her.

“Hm. Thank you.”

The smell of cut fruit was intoxicating to her, more so than usual. She had heard of women craving peculiar kinds of food during their time as expectant mothers, so she supposed that this may have to do with the little dragon that she now grew in her belly. The rest of their time eating moved in a swift silence– a comfortable one. The only sounds they heard were of the servants in the corridors and the birds chirping from out the window.

When they finished, the trays were taken away and he got up, ready to leave to sit in on the council meeting that his grandfather had called him for. He was halfway out the door after nodding to her when she took his hand, and he stopped.

Her hands held onto his as tightly as they could, and she was skittish as she continued to look down at the floor. By now, he knew her quirks well enough to know that she did that only when she wanted to say something.

“Go on.” He urged her as his other hand reached for her too.

She drew in a sharp breath as she bit her lip. “I… I am with child, husband.”

She did not know what to expect from him of her news– but his silent sigh and slight smile as his hands reached down to cover her belly in his hold is enough of a reaction. “Thank you,” he said, his gratitude and happiness made obvious– to her, even if not to anyone else. She did nothing but smile as his forehead met hers in a soft touch– their touches were always passionate and rough while in the privacy of their chambers, so it was peculiar for her to be treated this way. She found that she enjoyed it, just as much as she enjoyed being roughly handled by him.

She then stretched the fingers of one hand, revealing a little silk patch, a little tourney favor with a rose stitched on it. A flower, from his little flower.

“I know you do not prefer tourneys, but… it is my hope that you would at least keep it with you while you train.”

His hands ran over the soft silk, fingers tracing the intricate patterns that she had clearly taken her time with. He was quick to smoothen it out and pocket it, following it with a kiss to her lips.

“Thank you, for everything.”

The favor was only meant for the training grounds. But a week later, when she found it peeking out of his pocket while they walked around the gardens, she smiled. Soon, she found out that he kept it with him all day.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the fourth flower that she gave to him, came to him in the form of a favor with an embroidered rose, one that he kept on his person at all times.

There was something to be said about the comforts of silence.

Her husband was not a smiling man, nor was he an ardent conversationalist. Being a woman who leaned towards being both, she had begun their marriage with the intent of treading lightly, lest she annoy him or risk having him dismiss her halfway through. And she did try; Gods knew that she did.

Royal marriages were a sacred duty– those held in its sanctity would have to hold themselves to a higher standard, no matter how much it hurt them. With that being said, she was eternally thankful for Aemond understanding her preferences and trying to meet her halfway. She had been prepared for a man who would coldly dismiss her and her wants, but she had not been prepared for one that would actually want her.

One of the greatest pains of being born a noblewoman, she supposed, was that happiness in itself, was a privilege– one that she wished was not as such. She wished for it to be an easy thing to have, and as such, understood that she had been blessed with a quiet and peaceful marriage - one that did not take from her more than she was willing to give. It did not matter how many times she thought it over– she never failed to be as grateful as she was at the first realization, many moons ago.

These were her thoughts as she accompanied her husband in the library. Aemond sat opposite her, on the other side of the table with his finger running over the texts of the Summer and Winter Annals, deeply engaged in the knowledge that the book had to offer on the now lost Kingdom of Sarnor, once a famed trade partner of Valyria.

The fresh assortment of flowers lay haphazardly on her side of the bench, while she worked towards entwining them all onto the coir to make a crown. She often stole a glance at her husband as she repeatedly adjusted herself on her seat, one that was bigger than her usual one - to accommodate her, and the babe that she now carries.

An heir, a royal heir. There is dragon blood in you now, he had said.

She felt it, what with her babe’s constant reminders - boy or girl, the kicks were hard and swift, and it never failed to take her by surprise.

Aemond was a very fast reader, she gathered. His pages turned a lot faster than hers did, and his eyes never stuck to one part of the parchment for long - they flitted about and were restless, aiding him in his desire to learn as much as he can in the least amount of time. They have been married for half a year by now, and yet she manages to learn something new about him every day.

Her deft fingers worked through the stems of the flowers, piercing the sharp ends of the coir through them. In and out, in and out, in and out, she went - establishing a pattern that she ended up memorizing, whether she was cognizant of it or not.

Aemond stood up as he noticed a guard waiting near the doors, summoning him on behalf of the King. Her crown was now completely done, and she admired her handiwork as she twirled it in her finger and smiled. Aemond was now speaking to the guard as she ran the tip of her fingers over the petals. She brought it closer to her nose to smell them - the flowers were not as fragrant as they were once before, but there was a faint scent that she adored.

He nodded, and she could not help but smile again as he approached her. It struck her harder with each moment, how the Gods had blessed her with him - him with his infinite knowledge, calm disposition and otherworldly beauty. She wondered if the babe she carried would look like him - she hopes, hopes and hopes that they would.

He took the crown of flowers in his hands and handled it with the same care that she put into making it. It looked thoroughly out of place, yet so at home in his hands - much like herself.

A mildly happy lift at the edge of his lips caused a sharp dimple - one that made him look harsh, content and menacing at the same time. She may have wished for a Prince from the songs all the moons ago - but right now, she could not help but think that she had been blessed with someone greater, even if she knew that he did not believe it himself.

He placed the crown atop her head, crowning her. She remembered wishing he would crown her Queen of Love and Beauty at the twins’ name day tourney - but at this moment, as his fingers glided over her smooth hair to set the crown of white roses into place, she was happier than she could have ever been at any tourney.

“Escort the Princess safely to our chambers,” he ordered, after rubbing her growing stomach and giving her a kiss on her temple before going to meet the King. She stood slowly, and noticed that one unused and withering flower had been left behind. The air from outside the castle gushed through the windows, and it was purely by instinct that she grabbed it by the stem and placed it inside the pages of Aemond’s book before the pages flew - so it would be marked and he could begin where he left off if he so wished.

Long after her exit, Aemond came back to his bench after finishing his meeting with the King. He noticed the protruding stem, and he could not help but feel the warmth coarse through his chest as he opened the tome and found the withering flower pressed inside.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the fifth flower that she gave to him came to him in the form of a dried rose, one that he kept tucked safely inside his favorite book.

It was moments like these that made Aemond believe in anyone but himself.

Being able to love someone blindly was not a gift that Aemond ever found himself capable of giving. Ever since the loss of his eye, he had grown to be full of spite and resentment, believing that having his dragon was enough to make the loss of company around him worthwhile. Nobody knew how to speak to him anymore– how does one comfort a boy who could only see half the world around him?

And then, she came to him. His wife.

With her free smiles and open heart, she had made her way through into the center of his. He found that he preferred her there, where she belonged. She had made her home in his heart, and he marveled at how despite not matching up to her in any way that mattered, she had found it in herself to allow him to take shelter in hers.

It brought him shame to think of how they could have fallen in love much sooner if he had been open to her affections and not been so wrapped up in his own presumed fallacies. But with time, he learned that in a world where marriages remained cold until the bitter end, a late bloom of happiness was a gift that he should learn to treasure.

It is a girl. Do not ask me why I believe so, husband. I simply do, she had said.

The tomes say a bigger belly is indicative of a boy. I read it, he had countered then.

He stood corrected. Aemond would tell the entire realm that his worldly knowledge did not stand a chance against his wife’s intuition– the little girl he held in his arms was enough support for his claim.

She slept soundly in his arms as he sat in his chair by the hearth. His wife, tired from her taxing labors, had taken to sleeping through most of the last three days, and he had not left his daughter’s side, not once.

He held her head as his mother carried her for the very first time, eyes shining in joy as she thanked them both for making her a grandmother once more. There were very few things that gave Alicent Hightower joy, and watching her children have babes of their own was one of them.

He rested the tip of his fingers over her smooth and frail silver hair as his grandfather took a good look at her, allowing himself a moment with his guard down. Aemond had not seen his grandfather look at anyone with such reverence, not unless it was Helaena, Jaehaera or his own mother. And now, Aemond suspected that his grandfather, for all his cold demeanor, did have a soft corner in his heart for the women of his life.

He had towered over the crib as the twins took turns gawking at her, after spending hours begging to see their new cousin. Aemond brought them after they promised to not make too much noise– both mother and daughter were fast asleep. Jaehaera had asked him if she could braid her hair when she grew some, and Jaehaerys poked at the new babe's nose (her mother's nose) with his thumb in curiosity. Aemond laughed, for he was intrigued by her too– only, it was better contained.

He held her tightly to his chest with his hand over her head as Aegon came to meet his newborn niece– completely sober and bathed, upon Aemond’s threats of murder if he came anywhere near his babe with his foulness. He smiled as he dropped the little dragon toy in her crib, looking over at the exhausted mother who could barely keep her eyes open. Aemond’s one eye followed his brother’s then, and visibly softened at the sight of his wife. Aegon laughed and quipped, “I never thought I’d say this brother, but I suppose you do wear the lovestruck look well.”

He had rocked her in silence as Helaena cooed at her, elated at the thought of becoming an aunt to a niece. This family is in dire need of more women, she had mumbled absentmindedly once. “She’s beautiful,” she whispered and Aemond enthusiastically agreed.

She is beautiful, and she is his. His own daughter, given to him by his own wife.

In the nights, when he was left alone with the women around whom his entire world now revolved, Aemond let tranquility take him. And it was in moments like these, that he learned to love them both with all that he had– blindly, and unconditionally.

It was in moments like these, that he learned to believe.

Flowers have come to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the sixth flower that she gave to him, came to him in the form of his little daughter. A little flower, from his flower.

The flowers kept coming to him throughout the many years that followed, and he valued every one of them– for they had all come from her, and they were all a part of her.

His flower. His wife. His very own.

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totheblood · 1 year

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can you do angsty ellie headcanons? maybe how she reacts in a fight/what makes her angry? or ellie being mean to reader and having to apologize??

a/n: of course!!! this is NOT proofread... and there is some ai audios at the bottom... enjoy!

angry gf ellie

ellie does her absolute best to not get upset with you

like she really does because her mouth is a bitch when she's mad

but sometimes you take things a little too far and ellie has to fight with herself to not lash out at you

"ellie, i wasn't actually flirting with her. i was just trying to tease you." you would say in a worried voice as you watched her pace the room and avoid eye contact with you

"in what fucking world would you think i would like that?" she would spit out, flinching at her own tone

"i jus-" you try and justify it but you know you have pushed her a little too far

she would probably cut you off with the sound of your name, her voice much gentler this time

"can you just go? i need to be alone right now."

ellie is also very good at the silent treatment which drives you crazy

she would avoid you for days after the incident, not wanting to get in a full-fledged fight with you

she keeps imagining you playfully laughing and touching someone else's forearm and it drives her crazy

she doesn't even know why you would do something like that, was she not giving you enough attention?

so she would end up at your door late at night with her foot in your mouth

upon seeing your tired face, probably from the stress she caused you, she would immediately fold (ellie is such a simp it's embarrassing)

she just forgets what she's mad about when looking into your sad eyes, your face already in the palm of her hand

"baby," she would coo

"'m sorry els, it was so stupid. i don't even know why i thought that was a good idea because if you did that to me i would probably lose my mind, so please don't break up with me. i promise it will never-" she would watch as you rambled on but get absolutely thrown by the 'don't break up with me' comment

"hey hey hey, who said anything about breaking up? i was just upset, is all. don't like seeing my girl touching anyone else, yeah? we're okay, i promise." she does her best to reassure you, but when the worried look on your face doesn't go away she decides to press a kiss on your forehead

"you promise?"

"i promise. -- now are you going to invite me in? it's fucking freezing out here!"

ellie only gets angry at the sight of two things: you with another person and you injured

it's why she tries her best to be the only one who goes on patrol with you, but since shifts rotate sometimes you have to go with someone else

and that someone was jesse, who you loved but who ellie hated for you to be on patrol with

she knows what you and jesse are like around eachother (distracted) and you always come back with a few extra scratches when you're out with him

this time you came back on the back of jesse's horse with blood dripping down your forehead

upon seeing you ellie is immediately fuming and running out from the shelter of the stable to help you off the horse

she tries to be gentle in helping you down but she's shaking and your blood has started to drip onto her hand

"what the fuck happened, jesse?" she says in a huff as the men in the stable rush over to help her get you down.

"raiders, they just came out of nowhere." he sighs, hand on his head because he knows he's about to get it from ellie

"they came out of nowhere? or were you just not paying any fucking attention?!" she glared at jesse as you toppled over into her

"c'mon baby, you're okay." she'd press a kiss to your forehead ignoring jesse as she got you to the infirmary

but once you were all stitched up and alert? she was on you in an instant

"you always do this and i tell you every time that one day it's going to cost you your fucking life! and that day was almost today! -- do you know how lucky you are?"

you were just blinking up at her with your eyes wide, it shocked you that when you finally came to you were recieving a lecture from your girlfriend

"ellie, i'm too tired for this."

"oh, you're too tired? imagine how tired i am! how tiring it must be to wait for days not knowing if your girlfriend is dead. but noooo, jesse is just that fucking interesting that you have to risk your life to laugh at his lame jokes."

"what do you want me to do?" at this point you're just trying to get the pounding in your head to stop

"i want you to focus when you are on patrol! act like your life means something!" she's practically begging at this point

"okay."

"okay?"

"anything to stop you yelling at me, i really don't feel good." you say, leaning over to throw up into the closest garbage can

and just like that ellie is your ellie again, she's rushing over to hold your hair and rub your back

when you finish she gets up to throw the trash outside so the room doesn't stink

she hates being mad at you, but she hates upsetting you

"look, about what i said earlier; i'm sorry. i don't know what would happen, what i would do, if i lost you. i didn't mean to take it out on you."

you grab her hand and squeeze it lightly, "i know and i love you."

"i love you more."

but then you're leaning in to give her a kiss and she remembers five minutes ago when you were throwing up everything inside you

"i'll give you a kiss later…after we get those teeth cleaned."

ai audios:

i had more... but there's an upload limit

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fan fic #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams oneshot #modern!ellie williams #college!ellie williams #ellie williams one shot

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freedomfireflies · 8 months

Text

Red*

Summary: An extra for Mine*

The one where your mafia boss boyfriend, Harry, comes home covered in wounds and bruises.

And the sight is more than you can handle.

(CW: Use of a safeword!)

Word Count: 2.8k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

“Red.”

Immediately, the bedroom falls quiet. The squeaking of the old mattress is silenced, the desperate gasps for air are held, and the heated words of encouragement vanish.

Within an instant, Harry is readjusting his hold on your hips and lifting you off his cock to place you beside him. You can’t see his face through the collection of tears in your eyes, but you imagine it’s petrified and concerned. Perhaps even a little surprised and guilt stricken.

And the idea makes your stomach ache.

“Okay,” he agrees quietly, slipping a palm around your jaw to help guide you into his side. Holding you tight as he sucks in a strained breath. “Okay, red. We’re done. We’re done, mama. It’s okay.”

Your sobbing is soft but pained. The images in your head nearly impossible to escape as you shake in his arms and nuzzle your nose into his neck as though to hide.

You’re trying, you are. Desperately attempting to think of anything else. Anything…besides the marks on his body.

When you close your eyes, they’re all you see. The bruises littered along his temple. The scratches down his chest. The bandages around his ribcage.

The reminder of what he’s been through.

This is how he’d come home to you earlier this evening. Covered in wounds and lesions from a deal gone south. He’d been gone for almost twenty-four hours, leaving you to sit in your distress until you finally got word that he had been rescued and was on his way.

He’d been in rather good spirits when he walked through the door. Grateful to see you while joking about needing a hot shower and a good meal.

But the sight of him – covered in blood with skin turning an unsettling shade of purple – had nearly sent you onto shaky knees.

You’d taken him to the bathroom to help him clean and dress the wounds. You helped him shower and eat. Had given him some pain medication and proceeded to do everything you could to help him feel comfortable.

But what the two of you had really needed…was each other.

The rush of adrenaline and anxiety and utter relief had consumed you. Nearly knocked you over until all you wanted was to feel him. To know he was okay. That he was home and safe.

That he came back.

But despite how loving his touch, and how deep his thrusts, and how sweet his kisses…you couldn’t shake the panic you’d felt from losing him. Couldn’t look anywhere else but the bruises painted across his beautiful skin or outrun the scenarios in your mind of how he must have gotten them.

And you wanted to continue. Wanted nothing more than to feel secure again. Safe and comforted by the fact that he was home and in your arms once more.

But every time you’d look at him, tears would flood your eyes. And you’d be reminded of what could have been.

“Sugar?” he whispers now, lips gently pressing to the curve of your bare shoulder. “Baby, can you look at me? Can you tell me what’s wrong? What happened?”

However, all you can do is sniffle and shake your head once, scooting even closer as though trying to disappear through him.

You hear him sigh before his arm loops around your hip to pull you flesh to his side. “Are you hurt? Did I go too hard? Or hold you too tight?”

More sniffling and head shaking.

“Was it the position? Was it uncomfortable or painful?”

A hiccup this time.

He grows quiet, cheek pressing to the crown of your head. “Mama…I know it’s a lot right now. But I need to know if you’re hurt or feel like you’re in danger. I need to know how to make you feel safe again. Can you…can you please try to tell me? I won’t be mad, I promise. I just wanna help.”

But you can’t find the words. Can’t offer him the answer he wants. Because it was nothing he did or anything he said. It wasn’t his touch, or the position, or the situation. And you’ve never felt safer than here in his arms.

So how do you explain this?

“I almost lost you,” you finally whisper, the admission nearly getting lost into his heated skin.

You feel him shift, and you assume he’s glancing down at your trembling frame. “What?”

Swallowing another sob, you say, “They hurt you. They hurt you and they almost took you from me. They…they did this to you, and I…I…”

The rest of your sentence evades you, but he seems to understand, his hand slipping around the back of your neck to encourage you out of hiding.

You whimper in protest, not wanting to see him when you feel so small, but he doesn’t accept this. Instead, he takes your face in both hands and forces your eyes on his. Keeping you in front of him as you attempt to squirm away.

“Mama,” he exhales, stern but soft. “Listen to me. I’m right here. Okay? I’m right here and I’m okay. You didn’t lose me. You could never lose me.”

Yet the tears only fall faster. Dripping down into his hands like watercolors on a canvas, wet and warm.

He merely tightens his grip, refusing your wrestling. “Hey – hey. Look at me, baby. Look at me. I’m okay. I’m all right. Yeah? I need you to see that. I need you to see that I’m okay—”

“But you weren’t,” you blubber, grabbing onto his wrists for security. “You were gone, and I…I didn’t know. I didn’t know if I’d see you again—”

“Oh, my sweet girl,” he murmurs, surging forward to press his forehead to yours. “I know. I know, sugar, but I’m okay. They could never keep me from you. Nothing will ever keep from you. Do you understand?”

You want to understand. Want to believe it more than anything. But just because it was true this time doesn’t mean it always will be.

And the thought guts you.

“I need you to look at me,” he says again, thumbs sweeping across the high points of your cheeks. “I need you to see that I’m okay, yeah? I need you to do this for me.”

Your lashes flutter but you can’t oblige his request. Not yet. Just the thought of seeing those scratches – that don’t belong to you – makes your heart wrench.

He brings you closer, lips sweeping down the bridge of your nose, the arch of your brow, and the edge of your hairline. “Please look at Daddy. I need you to see me.”

So, you do. But the moment your eyes find his battered chest, another wounded sound scrapes from your throat. Broken like the cracks of a sidewalk as you reach out to hover your fingers near the marks.

He glances down as well, watching your hesitancy with a gentle frown. “It’s okay,” he says again, guiding your hand to his torso. Letting you feel him despite the way you gasp. “See? S’just a scratch or two. Couple of stitches and I’ll be fine. You and I have done way worse, yeah?”

He’s attempting to tease, but you feel your insides twist. “It’s not okay,” you mumble, the words heavy like the weight atop your chest. “It’s not okay, look at you. They…they did this to you?”

When he realizes you’re beginning to panic again, he squeezes your palm and presses it flat against his heart. “Hey. It’s all right. D’you feel that? I’m okay. It’s steady. Still beating, still stable. M’gonna be around for a long fucking time.”

You sniffle again and trail the tip of your finger around the edge of each bandage, tracing the bruises and scars with reverence.

“I’m okay,” he repeats. “I promise. I promise, mama. Don’t want you to worry about me. Or think about it. Or feel scared. I want you to feel safe, I want to make you feel safe.”

“You do,” you tell him, whimpering again as you melt into his touch. “You do, always.”

His brows furrow and you notice a look of regret settle onto his expression. “Except today.”

Confused, you glance up.

“I scared you today,” he explains, reaching up to brush some hair behind your ear. “I made you feel unsafe. I didn’t see how much you were struggling, and I should have. I failed you—”

“No,” you nearly gasp, almost insulted by the insinuation. “Never, Har—”

“It’s my job to look after you,” he continues sternly. “My job is to make sure you’re comfortable. To anticipate your needs in moments you can’t tell me, and I didn’t. I failed you—”

“No,” you whisper, scooting back onto his lap until you can wrap your arms around his neck and bury your lips against his throat. “No, I promise. Please don’t say that. Please—”

“I promised I’d never push you that far again,” he reminds you, a bit softer but still riddled with regret. “And I’m so sorry I did.”

“Daddy,” you sigh, hoping the dominant nickname will be enough to reach him. To make him understand. “Didn’t push me, I swear. It just caught up to me. Seeing you so hurt. I didn’t realize how scared I’d been until we got here, I guess. And it was all I could think about.”

You hear his breath catch and you know him well enough to know he’s internalizing your admission. Perhaps punishing himself for something completely out of his control.

“I never want to scare you,” he says, and you feel your chest cave in. “I never want what we do to scare you or make you feel unsafe. And I should have waited longer before suggesting it—”

“No, I wanted to do this,” you assure him. “I needed to do this. I needed to feel you, to be with you. To know I’d gotten you back. That you were okay.”

You lean back to see him and notice the way the corners of those beautiful green eyes are turning red. The way his lashes flutter, the way his mouth presses into a thin, distraught line.

“Harry,” you murmur, nails sweeping through the curls lying against his neck. “This is not your fault. I called it because I got overwhelmed but you couldn’t have known that. And you did everything you were supposed to do. You stopped and you talked to me. You made me feel safe again.”

He seems unconvinced and it makes your heart ache to know he feels so much remorse. “I just want you to be okay.”

“I am,” you exhale, leaning forward to press your mouth to his. Kissing him as though your sanity depends on it. “I will always be okay with you.”

He seems to settle into your reassurance, hands once again squeezing your hips as though trying to tell you how much he adores you.

And it seems to dissipate this tight feeling in your chest as you lace your tongue with his and travel your touch down to his cock.

He’s still hard, the tip swollen and stained red. You feel a twinge of guilt over leaving him this way when he so clearly needs the release, but before you can wrap your palm around him, he’s snatching onto your wrist.

Kind eyes find yours while his mouth curls up into a gentle but resolved smile. “No, baby. Not right now.”

Your expression falls as fast as your stomach. “What? Why? I’m…I’m okay now, I want to help.”

His only response is to bring your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss into the tips of your fingers as he murmurs, “We’re taking a break right now, okay?”

“But…Har, I’m okay. Really. I wanted to wait because I thought I wouldn’t be able to stop crying but I’m okay now. I’m green.”

However, despite your insistence and your honest pleading, he merely shakes his head. “I want us to wait for a while, okay? Just until we feel ready.”

You feel yourself pout but you know there’s no arguing with him, despite the anxious pulling on your heart. “But I am ready, Daddy.”

He chuckles at your attempt, sitting up to kiss your right cheek. “Well, Daddy’s not ready yet. I want to kiss you for a little, is that okay?”

You make a rather needy noise before relaxing into his embrace and his comforting touch. “Yes, Daddy.”

Pleased, he guides you back onto the bed beside him, angling your body until he can gently sweep his mouth along yours. Kissing you slow and with more love than you know what to do with.

His tongue feels like silk. Dancing along your bottom lip so effortlessly that it leaves you breathless. Until you’re squeezing onto his hip for balance.

You feel him grin against you. “My sweet girl,” he whispers. “Love to just have you like this. To be here with you.”

He smells so comforting. Good and familiar. Like his body wash and shampoo that you love to inhale. It turns your brain to mush as you focus on the feel and the smell of the man pressing himself into you. Keeping you warm and secure against his chest.

He kisses your top lip before smirking. “Can I tell you a secret, mama?”

You nod, palms slipping around his strong, broad shoulders.

He pauses, just long enough to meet your eye. “I like the pain.”

You feel your breath hitch as you stare at him, a rush of excitement and intrigue filling the aching space between your thighs.

“Liked it then…like it now,” he admits quietly, kissing you once more. “I like when you touch them. Like when you press on them. Like when you scratch your nails down the scars and make them bleed.”

With a delicate and depraved whimper, you shuffle closer, slipping one of your legs between his almost greedily.

He smiles again and it’s so smug. “All I could think about when I was there was how excited I was to feel your hands on them. To feel you touch me. Make the pain worth it.”

Your eyelids feel heavy. A drunken state of lust washing over your subconscious while he kisses you deeper into the mattress. Curling his body over yours until your head nearly sinks through the pillow.

“And I fucking love these lips,” he murmurs between frantic licks to your tongue. “God, could fucking stay here forever. Tasting you. Having you. Feeling you kiss each bruise.”

He’s painting you a new picture. Resetting the trauma in your head until you associate his marks with pleasure instead of pain. With promise instead of regret. Excitement instead of disappointment.

You feel his cock brushing against the edge of your thigh, and you whine again at his insistence on teasing you. “Har, please—”

“Shh,” he breathes, nosing under your jaw to trail his mouth along the curve of your throat. “Just want you to lay here with me.”

Your pout returns. “It’s not fair—”

“No? I think I’m being more than fair,” he retorts, large hands sweeping across your ribcage. “I’m giving you all my love and attention. Isn’t that what you want? Always beg me to just lay with you and cuddle. S’what we’re doing, yeah?”

You make another noise and push your tits into his chest, hoping for any sort of friction. “Hurts, Daddy.”

“Hurts?” His brow raises curiously but he seems to understand what you really mean. “Hurts how, sugar?”

“S’achy. Feels…feels empty.”

“Empty, hm?”

“Mhm.”

“Well, that’s no good.”

“Mm-mm.”

And for a moment, you think he’s going to cave. You think he’s going to dance those perfect fingers of his down to your cunt and take a little taste. Give you what he knows you need until you’re writhing and crying for him.

But just when you feel him move his hand…he’s taking it away and stretching it out beside him with a yawn.

“Gosh, I’m just so exhausted,” he sighs, fighting a rather large smirk when he sees your reaction. “I think we should have a little nap, hm?”

Before you can respond, he’s looping that same arm around your waist, flipping you around until your back is against his chest, and settling. Chin tucked over your shoulder and touch firm.

You stumble over a gasp and a rather defeated groan, attempting to ignore the feel of his cock pressed so deliciously against your ass.

But Harry’s resolve is unmatched, and even without seeing him, you know he’s grinning.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he finally whispers, and the feel of his breath against your neck sends a chill down your spine. “Once we wake up, if we want to try again…we can. Does that sound good?”

It’s not the perfect solution, but you know it’s the only one he’s going to offer you. So, with a quick nod and another pleased sigh, you slip your fingers around his wrist to keep his hold on you.

He chuckles.

“That’s my girl.”

IN CASE IT WASN'T SUPER CLEAR, THIS ONE-SHOT TAKES PLACE OUTSIDE OF THE CURRENT ASHER TIMELINE/DILEMMA! Just something for fun! 😭💞💞💞

Next Part:

~ Lost

Previous Part:

~ Pillowtalk*

~ Full Mine Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @acesofspadess @stylesfever @virginvirgo @pagesfalling @creativelyeva @char112244 @snwells @armystay89 @oh-my-hecky-padalecki @blackbookwhore @nellylayhoohoo @22fallenangel22 @watercolorskyy @ilovedilfs32 @nicodoesntexist @lelenikki @happypoptart

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ponderingmoonlight · 5 months

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You being made from Megumi's and Yuji's big booty dreams

Pairing: Yuji and Megumi x big butt! reader (fem pronouns used!)

Word Count: 580

Synopsis: Personality counts, but a big ass does as well

Warnings: language, this is just a funny little micro fic to light up your mood

„Today, I’ll present to you a new student!” Gojo announces so overdramatically that Megumi can’t help but roll his eyes.

Damn, why so early? He wasn’t even able to recover from the fact that Yuji now sticks to his side yet.

“Another one?” Megumi grumbles.

“That’s great! I hope I get along with him as great as with you”, Yuji comments joyful.

“We’re getting along ‘great’?”

“Actually, it’s not a boy. You will have a girl join you from now on. A really nice one, absolutely cute even though she’s too young for me. I’d say you have a chance if it wasn’t for you being such a grumpy cat, Megumi-chan. And she’ll be here in just a few moments.”

Megumi’s eyes dart towards his sensei threatful, his stupid little comment almost making him lose his cool.

“I don’t care about a random girl anyway. After all, I know nothing about her. And looks aren’t anything.”

“Maybe she has a big ass…”, Yuji mutters more to himself.

All pairs of eyes dart towards him, Megumi’s cheeks blushing ever so slightly just by the thought of it while all Gojo does is laughing hysterically. Personality might be important but this prospect…Even Megumi’s mind wanders to places where it shouldn’t be.

Stop.

He shakes his head, smacking the back of Yuji’s head hard.

“Is that all you are able to think? What about an unshakable character, a pure heart?”

“She can have all of this on top of a big ass”, Yuji argues with innocent doe eyes.

“Stop saying that out loud!” Megumi barks at him.

“Hey, are you the other two first grades? My name is (y/n).”

The constant rumbling and mumbling stops in an instant when their gazes meet yours. For a moment, none of the boys are even able to say a single word, staring at you with their mouths wide open.

You’re so gorgeous.

“Yeah you’re totally right here. Dear other students, meet (y/n)!” Gojo replies in an instant.

“She’s…she’s absolutely stunning”, Megumi breathes out for only Yuji to hear.

The way your hair falls so effortlessly, how you smile at them with so much kindness radiating from your delicate lips. And your body…Your well-proportioned hips, that strong but feminine legs both of them could spend hours looking at, how well-fitted your jujutsu sorcerer uniform sits on your body. They expected a lot of things…

But you? Oh, this is so much better than any imagination.

“Hey you two. Sorry, but I already have to leave you again. I’m on my way to meet the principal. But see ya later!”

“Y-yeah. Bye…”, Megumi stutters awkwardly while starring at you as if he had never seen a girl before.

And with a last smile at them you turn around, walking down the well-light hallway and exposing what catches especially Yuji’s attention the most.

“She definitely has a fat ass”, he blurts out.

“Shut up! She might hear you”, Megumi hisses through gritted teeth.

But he definitely is right. And the way you swing your hips from side to side…Megumi’s face heats up in an instant, completely caught by your appearance.

“I’ve never seen a girl so gorgeous”, Yuji remarks.

“Can you teach me how to talk to her, Gojo-sensei?”

“I totally can.”

“He definitely won’t. Get yourself together, you don’t even know her!”

“But I know that she has a nice butt. That’s a good start, right?”

"He's right", Sukuna mutters to himself.

“He’s right”, Gojo confirms.

“I can hear you!”, you shout from afar.

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ultravioletrayz · 2 months

Note

Vi!!!! you DEVOURED on the Miguel + the list fic. If you’re feeling up for it, I’d love to see something where reader finds out she’s pregnant shortly after, and what miguel’s reaction would be?? I can only imagine how excited he would be oml my heart hurts ❤️❤️

thank youuu, I had so much fun writing it! and you're right, migs would be over the moon excited and it'd be so cute and AHHH

The positive pregnancy test shatters as it hits the floor, flung from your shaky grip due to the vigour of Miguel's embrace. The underlying doubts still lingering in the back of your mind, even after Miguel spent that evening last week easing your worries regarding the risks of pregnancy, are now completely eradicated.

The warmth of Miguel's powerful arms protecting you and your unborn child from all that is bad in the world is intoxicating, the immense feeling of true, unconditional love radiating and mingling between your two hearts pressed against one another as he lifts you off the floor ever so slightly, wanting to feel the gratifying weight of you and the child he's waited his whole life to have.

All Miguel has ever wanted is to have a family. The prospect that maybe, he could redeem some of the ever-lasting wounds caused by his own family, has always kept Miguel going. It's his only motivation to continue putting in the effort to prove he can truly care for other people, after constantly growing up being told he's selfish and lazy and cruel to others. Being a dad would make his purpose as a protector, a mentor, and a hero actually mean something more than just stress and regret.

And after losing Gabriela, having been denied that first taste of fatherhood, of truly devoting himself to another human being further than on face-value, Miguel craves this. He craves you. He craves to protect the life he and you have created.

He squeezes you tighter in his arms, the pure vulnerability of his tears shimmering on the skin of your shoulder as he buries his tan, chiselled face into the crook of your neck, as if the act of releasing you from his vice grip would take everything away from him. As if letting go of you would cause the love of his life and his precious baby to disappear in an instant.

He won't let that happen again. You mean too much to him.

sorry this is a little angsty in some places when it's supposed to be fluff, but miguel is such a sad little guy it's hard to avoid

#ultravioletrayz #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o hara #atsv miguel #miguel 2099 #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x you #miguel spiderverse #miguel x you #miguel fluff #spider man 2099 x reader #spider man 2099 #miguel spiderman

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em-dash-press · 10 months

Text

The 5 Most Essential Turning Points in a Character’s Arc

You spend so much time creating a character because you want them to feel real. You want to connect with them and use them to create an experience for your readers. Their character arc is how that happens.

Don’t miss out on these essential turning points that make an arc feel not only whole, but complete.

1. The Inciting Incident

Your inciting incident gets your plot moving. It isn’t going to be the first sentence of your story (also called your hook), although it could be if you crafted your first sentence for that purpose.

An inciting incident is a plot event that guides your character in a new direction. It’s the successful prison break, the meeting of instant rivals, or the moment your protagonist wins the lottery in your first chapter.

Without the inciting incident, your protagonist’s life would carry on as usual. They wouldn’t start the arc that makes them an interesting person for the reader to stick with throughout your story.

2. Introducing the Protagonist’s Main Flaw

Every protagonist needs a primary flaw. Ideally, they’ll have more than one. People aren’t perfect and they rarely get close enough to only have one negative characteristic. Protagonists need that same level of humanity for readers to connect with them.

There are many potential flaws you could consider, but the primarily flaw must be the foundation for your character’s arc. It might even be the catalyst for the story’s peak.

Imagine a hero archetype. They’re great and well-intended, but they have a problem with boasting. Their arc features scenes where they learn to overcome their need to brag about themselves, but they get drunk and boast in a bar right before the story’s peak. The antagonist’s best friend hears this because they’re at the same bar, so they report the hero’s comment to the main villain. It thwarts the hero’s efforts and makes the climax more dramatic.

Other potential flaws to consider:

Arrogance

Pride

Fear

Anxiety

Carelessness

Dishonesty

Immaturity

3. Their First Failure

Everyone will fail at a goal eventually. Your protagonist should too. Their first failure could be big or small, but it helps define them. They either choose to continue pursuing that goal, they change their goal, or their worldview shatters.

Readers like watching a protagonist reshape their identity when they lose sight of what they wnat. They also like watching characters double down and pursue something harder. Failure is a necessary catalyst for making this happen during a character’s arc.

4. Their Rock Bottom

Most stories have a protagonist that hits their rock bottom. It could be when their antagonist defeats them or lose what matters most. There are numerous ways to write a rock-bottom moment. Yours will depend on what your character wants and what your story’s theme is.

If you forget to include a rock-bottom moment, the reader might feel like the protagonist never faced any real stakes. They had nothing to lose so their arc feels less realistic.

Rock bottoms don’t always mean earth-shattering consequences either. It might be the moment when your protagonist feels hopeless while taking an exam or recognizes that they just don’t know what to do. Either way, they’ll come to grips with losing something (hope, direction, or otherwise) and the reader will connect with that.

5. What the Protagonist Accepts

Protagonists have to accept the end of their arc. They return home from their hero’s journey to live in a life they accept as better than before. They find peace with their new fate due to their new community they found or skills they aquired.

Your protagonist may also accept a call to action. They return home from their journey only to find out that their antagonist inspired a new villain and the protagonist has to find the strength to overcome a new adversary. This typically leads into a second installment or sequel.

Accepting the end of their arc helps close the story for the reader. A protagonist who decides their arc wasn’t worth it makes the reader disgruntled with the story overall. There has to be a resolution, which means accepting whatever the protagonist’s life ended up as—or the next goal/challenge they’ll chase.

-----

Hopefully these points make character arcs feel more manageable for you. Defining each point might feel like naming your instincts, but it makes character creation and plotting easier.

Want more creative writing tips and tricks? I have plenty of other fun stuff on my website, including posts like Traits Every Protagonist Needs and Tips for Writing Subplots.

#character arcs #creating characters #creating character arcs #character development #writing characters #character concept #plotting #how to plot #writing plot #creative writing #writeblr #writers of tumblr #writing tips #writing advice #writing resources #writing inspiration #writing community #writing help #writing

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ukiyowi · 8 months

Text

Channelled Messages 💌

Channelling messages from your: Future Spouse, Closest Friends, Spirit Guides, and Future Self

Note: Please DM me if you want a reading I am going to be putting a discount on all my readings because I am in a rough spot financially and need to pay money for my room which I was not aware of earlier and could be kicked out if I don't at the earliest. Book a reading || Tip me! (Ko-fi)

♡ Future Spouse

♡ Closest Friends

♡ Spirit Guides

♡ Future Self

Future Spouse

💌 Pile 1

My Love,

I imagine us walking hand in hand through the seasons of life, supporting each other through every victory and challenge. Together, we will create a collage of memories, painting the canvas of our shared life with love, laughter, and endless adventures.

I promise to be your biggest cheerleader, your confidant in times of doubt, and your unwavering support through thick and thin. I vow to cherish and respect you for the unique individual that you are, appreciating both your strengths and your vulnerabilities.

You are scarred right now but theres no reason to be. You are so filled with love and light and everything good, just because someone else cannot see it does not mean it doesnt exist. If I could bring you the moon and the stars I would in an instant. I don't think there has ever been or will ever be someone who is as bright as you.

Please take care of your health, you cannot make excuses for bad habits and keep living life like that, no matter how stressful work or life is please make time for yourself. We still have a while to meet so take care of yourself for both you and I.

Song: It's a Shame - The Spinners

💌 Pile 2

Hey Darling,

Our connection, I believe, will be deeper than words can express. It will be built on trust, respect, and a genuine desire to see each other flourish. While I can't predict the future, I am steadfast in my commitment to cherishing every moment we have together.

We have met before, I don't think you remember me, but I do. your beauty had me stunned and so did your mannerisms. I admire the way you carry yourself, with so much dignity and poise, as if the personification of grace itself were standing in front of me, sweeping me off of my feet.

I will shower you with anything you want, praise, adoration, gifts, love, time, energy, and be there whenever you need. Life is probably fun for you right now, unfortunately for me the road is a little rocky. Enjoy this time with your friends and family, your loved ones truly care about you and want what's best for you even if they can't articulate it well.

Stay strong butterflly and look for me in your dreams, I promise to be a frequent visitor. hope you likfe sunflowers, lillies, and magnolias angel.

Song: Mango bananas - Flyana Boss

💌 Pile 3

Hi sweetheart!!

I have a feeling that when we finally meet, there's going to be a bell that rings making us instantly know like it did in Your Name, also hope you like animation because I love it, I also really like drawing and art, do you? Please say yes!

Life seems to be going too fast for you right now so you need to make sure that you don't lose yourself in the hustle and bustle of everyday life. Calm down and do things you enjoy, maybe you'll like pottery!

But beyond the laughter and silliness, I want you to know that I'm dead serious about creating a remarkable life together. We'll support each other's dreams, even if they involve opening a cat cafe or becoming professional trampoline testers (hey, it's a thing, right?). We'll navigate the ups and downs of life hand in hand, and I promise to be your rock when you need it most.

Song: Glue Song - beabadoobee

xoxo

Closest Friends

💌 Pile 1

Life has been quite the rollercoaster lately, filled with its usual ups and downs. I've had my fair share of challenges, but there have also been some incredible moments that I wish I could have shared with you in person.

I often find myself reminiscing about the good old days when we used to spend hours talking and laughing about anything and everything . Those memories are some of my most cherished, and I truly miss you.

Please know that no matter where life takes us or how much time passes, you will always hold a special place in my heart. Your friendship has been a source of strength, laughter, and endless support, and I'm incredibly grateful for that.

Let's make a promise to catch up soon, whether it's over a cup of coffee or a long, heartfelt phone call. I genuinely look forward to hearing how you've been and sharing all the stories we've missed out on.

With love,

Initials may include: R, P, W, Q, L

Song: Window - Still Woozy

💌 Pile 2

Leaving behind the place we've called home for so long is both exciting and bittersweet. While new opportunities wait and adventures call, it's hard not to feel a tinge of sadness at the thought of being farther away from you.

Although physical distance may separate us, please know that you will always hold a special place in my life. Our bond is not defined by geography but by the strong connection we share.

And the internet exists so we'll be fine right? You promise to not lose touch with me even when we're both busy? I promise I will remember to call you, if not daily then weekly, please don't forget me.

I wish you could join me and we could embark on this together but life has its ways of separating the best people we've met so that we are forced to widen our horizons and social circles lol, hope it's not too much for either you or me.

Will miss you,

Initials pulled: A, J, M, S, K

Song: Missin something - Zach Templar

💌 Pile 3

I love the days we've shared and I wish to share so many more with you in the future, god I am so so so excited for everything thats to come!

Do you remember that time we decided to go on that impromptu road trip? No plans, no GPS, just a car full of snacks, good music, and an unshakable belief that we'd find our way eventually. We got lost more times than I can count, but it was so much fun and truly unforgettable.

And how about those late-night conversations that somehow turned into early-morning confessions? We've solved the world's problems over a cup of lukewarm coffee more times than I can recall. The neighbors must have wondered if we were running a 24-hour café.

As I sit here reminiscing about these and countless other memories, I can't help but smile. Our friendship has been a rollercoaster of laughter, silliness, and genuine connection. And I wouldn't trade a single moment of it for anything in the world.

Sending you a virtual high-five and a whole lot of fond memories, here's to hundreds more, and don't forget about the promise we made about the weddings okay?

Your platonic soulmate,

Initials may include: G, H, B, L, T

Song: Right Here, For Now - Bakar

xoxo

Spirit Guides

💌 Pile 1

Embrace change with an open heart and a curious mind. Life is a series of shifts and transitions, and it's in these moments of change that growth and self-discovery thrive. Trust in your ability to adapt and evolve, for you possess the resilience needed to navigate uncharted waters.

As you progress in your career, always remember that your passion and purpose are the compass that should guide you. Pursue work that aligns with your values and fulfills your soul. Don't be afraid to explore different paths and take calculated risks. Each experience contributes to your growth and wisdom.

Learning is a lifelong journey, and each lesson learned is a stepping stone to your personal and professional development. Stay committed to your goals, and never underestimate the power of continued learning.

There may be moments of doubt or uncertainty along the way, but listen to your heart's desires and the quiet whispers of your soul, for they will guide you toward your true purpose.

Above all, be patient and compassionate with yourself. Success is not defined by a straight path but by the lessons learned along the way. Embrace each setback as an opportunity to grow stronger and wiser.

Song: Everything Has Changed - Taylor Swift

💌 Pile 2

In matters of the heart, we see the longing in your soul for a deep and meaningful connection. First and foremost, we urge you to be patient with yourself. Love is a delicate dance, and it often takes time to find the right partner who truly understands and appreciates you.

As you seek love, remember the importance of self-love. Nurture your own well-being, both physically and emotionally. Don't be insecure about your quirks and imperfections, for they are the qualities that make you beautifully you. When you love yourself wholeheartedly, you become a magnet for the love you desire.

When it comes to romantic relationships, let go of preconceived notions and allow yourself to be pleasantly surprised. Love can appear in unexpected places and forms. Stay open to meeting new people and exploring connections that may not fit your usual "type." Sometimes, the greatest love stories are the ones that defy expectations.

Communication is the foundation of any healthy relationship. Be brave in expressing your feelings, needs, and desires. Equally important, listen to your partner with an open heart. True intimacy is born from understanding and genuine connection.

Whoever, you're thinking of, is not the one, set the standards high and do not settle for something that does not align with what you can give as well.

Song: Scared - Jeremy Zucker

💌 Pile 3

Know that you are never alone. We are always by your side, watching over you, and guiding you in subtle ways. We see your potential and your inner light, and we are here to help you recognize and nurture these gifts.

Trust in your intuition, for it is the voice of your soul and the channel through which we communicate with you. In times of uncertainty, turn inward and listen to the whispers of your heart, for they will lead you toward your true path.

Embrace the lessons that life presents, for they are opportunities for growth and self-discovery. Challenges are not obstacles but stepping stones on your journey to becoming the best version of yourself.

Surround yourself with positive influences and kindred spirits who uplift and support your journey. Let go of relationships that drain your energy and hinder your growth. Create a circle of love and support that nurtures your soul.

Find joy in the simple pleasures of life. Take time to savor a cup of tea, watch a sunrise, or feel the grass beneath your feet. These moments of presence are where true happiness resides.

Song: July - Noah Cyrus

xoxo

Future Self

💌 Pile 1

Darling, I cannot even start to tell you how good life is right now for me, and eventually for you. I know you are currently going through a rough patch, and as cliche as this sounds, I want you to know that every storm you're weathering now is bringing you closer to the sunshine that awaits you.

In my time, I've seen how the challenges you're facing today have shaped you into the resilient, compassionate, and wise person I've become. The setbacks you're experiencing are not roadblocks; they are stepping stones leading you to the life you've always dreamed of.

You may feel lost, uncertain, and at times overwhelmed, but trust me, these moments are your greatest teachers. They are guiding you towards a deeper understanding of yourself, your purpose, and the incredible strength that lies within you.

One day, you will look back on this period of your life and realize that it was a transformative journey, a cocoon in which you underwent a profound metamorphosis. You'll emerge from it stronger, wiser, and more in tune with your inner self.

The relationships you're nurturing now, the lessons you're learning, and the self-care you're embracing will all become pillars of the beautiful life that awaits you. You'll find yourself surrounded by a supportive and loving community that cherishes you for exactly who you are.

Song: See you Again - Tyler, The Creator

💌 Pile 2

I am sorry, but things are not going the way you would have hoped they would. However, rejection is just redirection, okay? Although things are looking rough for me right now, which, for you, is in the future, I want you to know that this tough phase will lead you to a place of strength and growth.

Life can be incredibly challenging at times, and I wish I could spare you from some of the hardships I'm currently facing. But remember, every setback, every disappointment, is an opportunity for growth and learning. It's through these tough moments that we discover our resilience and develop the wisdom to make better choices in the future.

I want you to hold onto hope, even when it feels like all hope is lost. Believe in yourself and your ability to overcome adversity. Surround yourself with supportive friends and loved ones who will help you weather the storm.

Stay patient and kind to yourself. It's easy to be critical during challenging times, but self-compassion is crucial. Treat yourself with the same love and understanding that you offer to others.

I am working on something thats a dream of ours right now, and I am seeing signs that it may end up succeeding soon or at least kick off, and I still love designing and art as much as you do right now, although I barely have time for myself right now.

Song: Not in that way - Sam Smith

💌 Pile 3

Okay, so maybeee we should reel it in a little with how much you are overworking yourself because it is having a bad effect on me, aka future you. Yep, I'm here to tell you that all those late nights, skipped meals, and stress-induced hair-pulling moments are not doing us any favors down the line.

I get it, you're hustling, chasing dreams, and making things happen in the here and now, and that's commendable. But trust me, I've been there, done that, and I can assure you that I'd appreciate a little less burnout and a lot more balance in our past.

You see, life isn't just about reaching goals; it's about enjoying the journey too. So, let's make a pact to take breaks, breathe deeply, and relish the simple pleasures. Remember, it's not all about the destination; the detours and pit stops are just as important.

And don't worry, I'm not trying to cramp your style here; I just want us to have the best possible adventures together, full of energy, laughter, and great stories. So, let's find that sweet spot where hard work meets self-care, and where the future "us" can look back and be happy about the past "you" for making wise choices.

Also please stop pulling all nighters its not doing any wonders for our skin, and even an extensive 10 step skincare routine does not do as much as a good nights sleep can.

Song: While we're yound - Jhene Aiko

xoxo

#pick a card reading #pac reading #pick a pile #tarot daily #tarot #intuition #pac #readings #intuitive readings #intuitive #tarot readings #tarot cards #tarotblr #tarot reading #divination #daily tarot #tarot spread #🩵 PAC 🩵

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short-honey-badger · 5 months

Text

Cherish

Pairings: Sanji Vinsmoke x Reader, One-sided Dracule Mihawk x Reader.

Summary: Mihawk bumps into the crew of the Sunny and takes an instant liking to you, but you already belong with Sanji. I would also say that this is a healthy mix of Anime and Live Action Sanji.

Warnings: Some kissing and fluff. Jelly Sanji.

This is a gift to the most wonderful @writingmysanity I hope you enjoy! ❤️

Masterlist

You wake to the feel of familiar lips pressed to your forehead. Your eyes flutter open, and you are gifted with the sight of your lover hovering over your form. Sanji pulls away to smile down at you, adjusting his weight so he can caress the side of your face with one hand, “Good morning, beautiful,” he coos and bends to kiss the tip of your nose.

Your arms come up to wrap around his shoulders, and you admire how perfectly the two of you fit together, “Morning, Prince,” you whisper and kiss the corner of his mouth. Sanji whines and tilts his head just enough to slant his lips against your own. It's chaste, but lovely.

“You know I love it when you call me that, Darling,” he kisses you again, just once, before moving down to press his lips to the hollow of your throat. Sanji breathes you in, taken by everything that you happily offer him.

You sigh and move your hands up, sliding one into his blonde hair to gently scratch at his scalp. The other cradles his face, thumb smoothing over the soft skin of his cheek, “And you know how much I like to tease you,” You quip softly and giggle at his put out expression.

Sanji's pout smooths out when you gently tug his hair, and he follows the gentle movements as you guide him to press his lips back to yours. The two of you lose yourselves in one another, content to ignore the world outside of the bubble that has formed inside of your cabin on the Sunny.

That bubble is rudely popped when your door is slung open and none other than Luffy flings himself into the room. He launches himself at Sanji, taking the cook with him as he rolls off the bed, “Sanji! Good morning! It's time for breakfast!”

While a little miffed at the interruption, Sanji is far more annoyed and pulls at Luffy, though it does little to affect his Captain, who just stretches with him, “Luffy! I've told you that it's rude to just barge into a ladies' room!” He shouts in the other boy's face.

The warning goes right over the rubber man's head as he stands and lifts his cook with him, “Sanji. Breakfast!”

Sanji gives you an apologetic look as Luffy begins to drag him away, “I'm sorry, love! I'll see you in the galley?” He asks, and you nod at his retreating form.

“I'll meet you there after I get ready, Sanji,” you assure him, and the blonde sends you a bright grin in response before he disappears out the door. You roll your eyes at your Captain's antics before tossing the blankets off and getting up. You needed to save your dear lover before he tossed Luffy overboard.

You can smell breakfast by the time you have finished in the bathroom. It smells devine as usual, and you saunter through the door to join Sanji and whoever else is already in the kitchen. You are stopped in your tracks when a pair of yellow ringed eyes meet your own.

Dracule Mihawk looks you up and down, seemingly judging you all in a span of a second, and you watch with rising worry as a tiny smirk crosses his face. Thankfully, Zoro interrupts the stare off.

“_, this is Mihawk. He bumped into us this morning. Literally,” Zoro says, tone deadpan.

“Mhmm,” The warlord stands and you swallow thickly when he comes to a stop and gently takes your hand, “The pleasure is all mine, Darling,” he rumbles and you can feel the tension skyrocket in the room when Mihawk presses his lips delicately upon your knuckles.

His eyes never once leave yours, and he lingers for an inappropriate amount of time before finally pulling away, though he does not drop your hand. You gulp and offer your name in a voice far shaker than you intend it to be.

“Yes. Imagine my surprise when I wake to my ship bouncing off the side of yours,” He says and gently tugs you to the table. You have no choice but to sit down beside him, but he has finally let go of your hand. You scooch down from him discreetly, but the yellowed eyed man misses nothing.

Sanji sees red, and he has to force himself to breathe to make his hands stop shaking. He is beyond furious that someone who isn't him dared to lay their lips upon your body. However, he also knew that you would be upset with him if he showed his ass to someone as powerful as Mihawk. Unfortunately, Sanji wasn't strong enough to kick the warlord's ass. Yet.

He scrubs the potato in his hands furiously, trying to ignore the feeling of your eyes watching the tense line of his shoulders. Damn that Mosshead for inviting his warlord teacher onto the ship and signing Sanji up to make the yellow eyed bastard breakfast. Not that he wouldn't feed the man, but it was the principle of the thing!

The cook does a good job of ignoring the soft conversation going on behind him, and instead focuses on making you a cup of your usual tea after finishing up with the potatoes. He turns and plasters a soft smile on his face as he turns to deliver your tea.

Mihawk watches the cook, finding amusement in the way the young man narrows his eyes at him and side steps his seat to stand behind you. Understanding draws upon him when Sanji kisses your cheek as he leans around you to place the cup on the table. He watches you blush and thank the cook quietly with a soft smile filled with affection.

Sanji kisses the top of your head, blue eyes narrowing at Dracule as the warlord shamelessly watches the interaction, but the yellow eyed man says nothing. Sanji doesn't trust the look on his too handsome face.

He dismisses himself after a moment to finish up breakfast, chopping and sautéing just a bit faster than usual.

You sip your tea, trying hard to focus on the conversation that Nami and Zoro were having, but you can feel Mihawk's eyes on you. Your shoulders are tense, and you jump when the older man leans close enough to bump his arm against your own, “No need to be so frightened, Darling,” he draws softly and you gulp when you watch his lips curl into a wicked smirk, “Just having a bit of fun, is all.”

Sanji bares his teeth when he hears the warlord call you Darling. That was his pet name! His term of endearment that he favored. It itched and racked him that someone else was trying to woo you with pretty words. The sloppy way his chives had been minced told the world just how upset this was, making the swirly browed cook frown down at the poor vegetables.

“Saaanjjiii, when will breakfast be done?” Luffy whined and fell forward, head thudding into the table.

“Longer if you keep complaining, Luffy,” Sanji snaps, and you wince at the hidden anger in his voice. It gets Nami's attention as well, and you send her a helpless look. She darts her eyes between you, Mihawk, and Sanji, and you do not like the look that begins to surface in her eyes.

“_, why don't you show Hawkeye around the ship? He's never seen Sunny, have you?” Nami questions, and you frown at her false innocent tone and Cheshire cat smile. You should have known that the cat burglar would stir the pot.

Mihawk is already standing and offering you a hand up from the table, “No, I have not. I've heard the rumors about it, however,” he confirms and waits patiently for you to take his hand, leaving your tea abandoned on the table, “Come show me.”

You dart your eyes over to Sanji to see that his back is as tense as a live wire, but Mihawk is a guest on the ship, and you've been on board long enough to be able to show the warlord around, “Just a quick tour. I'd hate to miss breakfast,” you say and place your hand in Hawkeye's.

Hawkeye hums his consent, “Very well, lead the way,” he murmurs and you turn and leave the galley, unaware of the smug glance that the warlord had sent your lover.

The second the door of the galley shut, Sanji rounds on the smug faced Nami, “Why did you do that?” He demands hotly and watches as she and Zoro grin at one another.

“Don't get your panties in a wad, Shitty Cook,” Zoro scoffs and leans back to cross his arms over his chest, “Mihawk won't do anything to her, so stay here and finish breakfast.”

“Orrrr,” Nami draws out and Sanji can see the Berri in her eyes, “Let me win our bet and go running after her like the hero you are,” she teases and flicks her long hair over her shoulder with a grin.

Sanji scoffs, but his shoulders loosen just a tad. Of course, if Nami had brought something up, it would have been over money. While still upset, and yes, he did want to run after you and the warlord to make sure he didn't do anything untoward, Sanji also trusted you, and he didn't want you to think that he doubted that.

“Screw the two of you. It's rude to bet on people's love lives.” He sniffs and turns back to the stove. Sanji would make your favorite, maybe even decorate it with lots of hearts to show you just how much he loves you. Ha! Take that warlord!

You show Mihawk around Sunny, taking him to see the cola powered engines where Franky is working away and the tangerine trees that belong to Nami. Brook waves from where he sits near the helm with Jinbe, and you make sure to wave back. Chopper comes out of his office at some point, and you gently pat his head and then direct him to the galley.

You have relaxed by the time the two of you enter the crows nest, and you gesture at the weights scattered around, “Zoro stays here, but I make him share with me. No better view on Sunny than up here,” you remark and leave his side to peer out the windows. It's a beautiful day out, and you sigh in content when the sun warms you.

“Good. Someone needs to put him in his place,” Mihawk quips dryly, and you surprise yourself snorting in laughter, only to choke up when the yellow eyed man stepped close to you, looming with his height.

“Tell me, Darling,” he coos, and you flush at the tone he uses. You shiver when a cool hand is placed under your chin, and he tilts your face up so that he can meet your gaze, “Why do you stay here?”

To say that you didn't expect the question was an understatement. You lick your lips, and Dracule watches the way your pink tongue dips out for a half second as you think about how to answer.

“The crew, Sanji, saved me. Believed in me when no one else would,” You murmur and shove away the awful memories of your old life, “They let me stay, and I just… never left,” you finish lamely.

Dracule hums, and you shiver at the way he gazes at you. There is a darkness in those yellow, ringed eyes, and it makes you quake all the way to your bones. He seems to come to the conclusion of some internal argument, for he sighs dramatically, and his hand moves from holding your chin to gently cradling your jaw as a lover would.

“Just a taste then, and I will be on my way,” Mihawk states, and before you can react, the warlord is leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. You are so shocked that you do little but stand like a statue, absolutely flabbergasted that such a powerful man would want anything to do with you.

You come back to yourself when you feel the heat of his tongue prod at your lip, and you jerk yourself back and away with a gasp,”What do you think you're doing?” You demand and take a couple of steps back to put some distance between you and his sinful mouth.

The warlord huffs at you, but stays where he is, so you feel a little better that he is no longer pursuing you, “Tasting what someone has already taken,” he says, and you can still see that dark gleam in his yellow eyes. Mihawk eyes your trembling form and then turns away to the hatch that would take them back down to the deck.

“Come. Let us go before I do something I won't regret.”

You wait until he has already begun his descent before you follow after him. It's awkward, at least for you, to walk back to the galley, and you can't even describe the relief you feel when you open the door to see the entire crew has piled in the galley. You beeline to Sanji, but Mihawk is right behind you.

“Cook,” he addresses, and Sanji turns with narrowed blue eyes. He has already tucked you close, and you gladly allow Sanji to shield you from that yellow gaze that seems to see into your soul.

“Yeah?” Sanji grumbles, and his hands itch for a cigarette. Anything to keep him distracted from the way Mihawk never even looks his way, his gaze firmly glued to you.

“Cherish her, and keep her close,” Mihawk tells him, and his tone becomes smug. He doesn't seem to care that his words have the rest of the crew tuning in, Luffy even picking up the obvious tension in the room, “Least you let someone steal her away.”

Sanji scoffs, crossing his arms, and further shielding you from Mihawk, “Like I would ever allow that to happen,” he chances a glance at you and softens when he finds you gazing at him like he hung the moon and stars in the sky just for you.

Dracule nods once and then gathers up his hat and sword, “Good,” he sniffs and then turns to the door, “In that case, I'll be on my way. I've overstayed my welcome. Zoro, don't slack on your skills,” he comments and then he struts out the door, gone like he had never been there in the first place.

Sanji faces you and pulls you in for a hug, “You okay, Sweetheart?” He asks and kisses your brow after giving you a quick once over. You nod and he grins at you, “Good, now sit. I've made your favorite.”

Before you go, you pull Sanji down for a real kiss, chasing away the feeling of Mihawk's own with the touch of your lover. You would tell Sanji what happened later, but for now, you were content to finally have a nice, relaxing breakfast with your crew.

547 notes · View notes

finalgilmoregirl · 5 months

Note

your newest mike fic has me dead on the floor omg. can you please write something with grumpy mike and his sunshine reader?

a/n : i love this concept it’s such a classic, leans towards fem!reader but no she/her pronouns used, no use of y/n, lots of fluff and a smidge of angst

☆ moments in grumpy!mike x sunshine!readers relationship :

1 ౨ৎ putting on performances with abby. for a child her age, an active imagination is a given. however with the kinds of things she has experienced in her life, the possibilities are truly endless. it's not uncommon for mike to come home and see that the living room has essentially been transformed into a broadway set. and even though he's often coming home from a long shift, exhaustion be damned, you and abby still sometimes manage to wrangle him into the worlds you've created.

if you and abby are the knights of opposing royal courts, he is the jester. if you two are witches, he is the evil henchman. if you're competing fighters, he's the referee. if you two are ballerinas, he is the judge (and he always chooses you as the winner).

but no matter how many times you and abby tell him that he has to do the voices too, he still won't learn. he's essentially just an audience member of your theatrics, sitting on the ground in whatever costume one of you have placed on his shoulders and simply trying to fathom how to two people can have so much energy at the end of the day.

2 ౨ৎ grumpy!mike is your own personal bodyguard. although your sunny aura is extremely welcoming on its own, the constant frown on his face is enough of a signal for a person to turn and walk the other way the moment they notice him next to you.

he's often uncomfortable in public, too aware of his surroundings and overanalyzing everyone's actions. this results in his having a hand on you at all times to calm his nerves, whether that be with your hands clasped together, his hand on your waist or his arm around your shoulder. at first glance the two of you could look like complete strangers that just happen to be in close proximity to each other, but the second mike turns to look at you and his expression softens, it's obvious the two of you are in love.

3 ౨ৎ for the first few weeks of you and mike getting to know each other, he’d never really smiled. sure, he was always kind and polite but the most he would give to express joy was the raise of his eyebrows and the tiniest bit of an amused smirk. so of course when you had been in the middle of recounting a story and mike had laughed, smiling with all of his perfect teeth on display, you were pleasantly shocked.

"so that's what that looks like." you grinned at him, earning a tilt of his head in return.

"what does what look like?" he asked.

"your smile." mike was quick to blush, coughing and looking down for a moment to try and regain his original composure, but before he could feel too embarrassed you continued, "i like it, you should do it more often."

from then on you couldn't get enough of his smile, always trying to make him laugh. which as serious as he is, deep down he lived for it, just basking in your joy and the fact that he was the cause of it.

4 ౨ৎ that being said, mike has a bit of a temper and you know that, taking his waves of bad moods in stride and trying your best to cheer him up, but sometimes he gets so riled up that there’s only so much you can do to help, and mike loses patience.

it’s very rare when he snaps at you and when he does he almost immediately regrets it after seeing how it effects you.

the ever-present smile you hold that has the power to lift everyone’s spirits falls in an instant when one of his outbursts catches you off guard. your eyebrows furrow and you look down to try to keep your own composure. you know he’s not actually mean, at least never to you. you pushed him too hard, you think to yourself and it’s in this moment that mike snaps out of his rage, like a demon that was possessing him had left his body and all he feels is his heart ache.

here you are, the light of his life and he’s the reason you’re not smiling. he rubs his palm over his forehead and reaches out for you, “fuck, i’m sorry” he sighed, “i don’t know why i yelled”

you feel his hand hover over your shoulder and look up, seeing his face full of regret. you reach your hands up and hold his face, which mike immediately melts into, his hands moving to hold your waist. he grabs you tight, desperate even, thinking that if he lets you go you'll leave and he'll lose you for good.

“i know baby. you’ve just had a bad day, i shouldn’t have pushed you.” you sympathize with him, to which he shakes his head.

“yeah but that’s not an excuse, you just wanted to help and—" he pauses and sighs, disappointed with himself, "i’m grateful for that. i love that you care about my problems, no matter how stupid they are.”

you smile gently at his confession, and a weight is lifted off of his chest.

“they’re not stupid. plus, i know you’d do the same for me. you can groan all you want about it but deep down you’re the biggest softie i know.”

mike rolls his eyes playfully, and leans his forehead against yours, “only to you.”

you giggle and connect your lips to his, letting them linger for a few seconds before pulling away and whispering, “yeah, i’d hope so.”

thanks for the request ☆

#mike schmidt x reader #josh hutcherson x reader #mike schmidt fluff #kelly : mike thoughts 💭

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halsteadlover · 6 months

Text

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

*Gif and pics not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader.

• Requested: no.

• Summary: being away most of the time, Charles is not always there to give you what you need so you decide to take the matter in your hands… But with a little help.

• Warnings: masturbation (f), use of vibrator, oral sex (fem receiving), swearing, unprotected sex (what can I say I’m a sucker BUT USE PROTECTION YOU GUYS).

• Word count: 3192.

• A/N: PLEASE READ THIS ONLY IF YOU’RE 18+. Here is my first Charles fic, I’m so nervous about it so please have some mercy 😭 I really hope you’ll like it, let me know what you think and comment, like and reblog if you want. Sending lots of love to all of you ❤️

When Charles turned the keys in the door lock he didn't immediately announce his presence, wanting to surprise you.

He put the bag on the ground and took off his jacket, but it was him who was caught completely off guard when he heard sounds that could only be moans.

He froze in place, his heart immediately starting to beat wildly in his chest.

What the fuck?

There was no doubt they were your moans, he would’ve recognized them from a mile away. For an instant the world collapsed on him, already projecting into his head you fucking with someone else on the bed you shared.

With silent steps and trembling legs he approached your bedroom, noticing the open door and immediately mentally breathing a sigh of relief in realizing you were the only one there.

He knew you’d never do something like that to him but he couldn't control the heart attack fear almost caused him.

However, his eyes almost popped out of their sockets when he realized what you were doing. You were leaning back on the bed frame, your shirt pulled up enough to leave your breasts exposed, you were naked from the waist down, legs spread and the vibrator in your hands.

Charles leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest as his eyes were glued to you. You didn’t noticed his presence, your eyes half closed as you let yourself be carried away by the pleasure.

“Oh Charles… Yes…”

Pleasure coursed through your veins as the vibrations radiated all over your pussy.

That evening you were particularly needy and horny and Charles wasn't home as he was away for the Mexican GP and would be back the next day. Unfortunately you had a lot of work to do so you couldn’t join him and saying you were missing him like crazy was an understatement.

“Oh yes.” A small moan escaped your lips, your eyes closed as you let yourself be carried away by the sensations. It felt good, you couldn’t deny it, but it wasn’t Charles.

God, only him knew how to touch you. He knew every button to press to make you completely lose your mind, he knew how to give you such overwhelming pleasure it’d make you lose the ground beneath your feet and your soul to come out of your body.

As you continued to move the vibrator on your clit, trying to find the exact point of high pleasure, you imagined his hands on you, touching you, his tongue licking your pussy, his dick inside of you as he fucked you until he took your breath away.

Another soft moan left your lips and he felt his pants get tighter and tighter as his dick got harder and harder. It had been too long since he last touched you, since he heard you moan his name like that and just seeing you brought back that desire he had repressed for weeks and weeks.

Before he knew it his palm was already pressing on his crotch as he watched you masturbate, trying to find some relief.

He wanted so much to approach you, take that vibrator out of you hand and use his mouth but he was mesmerized, he couldn't take his eyes off you and that pussy so wet he wanted to drown himself in it.

He would’ve liked to take his cell phone and film it so he could watch you over and over again but in any case he knew that image would never leave his mind again and seeing you giving yourself pleasure would be a fantasy he would’ve replayed for the rest of his life.

But when his erection started to press painfully against his pants he couldn't resist anymore, the need to have you and touch you was too intense to just continue watching.

“You missed me that much baby?”.

He tried to suppress a chuckle when you jumped in fright, throwing the vibrator next to you and instinctively closing your legs. He couldn't help but find adorable the way your cheeks got redder than Ferrari, as if you had just been caught committing a crime.

You didn't know what emotions to listen to first: shame for being caught masturbating or joy and shock because your boyfriend was finally home.

“Charles oh my god you’re here! I thought… I thought you were coming back tomorrow.”

He walked over and climbed onto the bed, crawling towards you until he was inches away from your face. You grabbed his face and kissed him but since he was so horny he couldn't even think anymore, he immediately deepened the kiss sliding his tongue in your mouth.

Soon you found yourselves lost in each other, taken by the passion and inebriation that made your head spin and that you had both missed so much. It was enough to set off a flock of butterflies in your stomach, and as your mouths moved against each other you feared you’d pass out there in his arms.

“Putain, I missed you so much,” he whispered against your lips as he caught his breath after that impetuous, almost animalistic kiss. His hand wrapped around one of your breasts, squeezing and groping it before leaning down and surrounding the other with his lips, biting and sucking on your nipple and eliciting sighs from you.

“Tell me what were you thinking about chérie?”.

“You baby, only you. Charles please I need you.” You moaned, wanting his fingers inside you.

He took the vibrator next to you and lay between your legs resting on one elbow, his eyes fixed on yours and a smirk on his lips. He was so fucking how that this alone would’ve been enough to make you come.

“I want to know baby. What were you thinking about? Tell me,” he spoke but before you could say anything he placed the still working vibrator back on your clit causing you to let out a loud moan.

He looked away from your eyes to your wet pussy, his mouth watering at the mere sight of it, looking at it as if he had just found the holy grail.

“Now I’m going to lick this gorgeous pussy and I want to hear what you were thinking while you were touching yourself okay?”.

You couldn't answer, too caught up with the pleasure you were feeling to even talk. He removed the vibrator and you let out a frustrated sigh.

“Answer me.”

“Y-yes… Just touch me please, I need it so badly…” you babbled and you didn’t care how pathetic you sounded, now that you finally had Charles you wanted him with every fiber of your body.

“My princess is so needy,” he smirked again before sticking his tongue out and taking a long, slow lick on your pussy, moaning at the sensation. Few words could describe how he felt after finally tasting you after so long but none came to mind, too focused on controlling himself to not come in his pants.

“Fuck… Do it again please.”

“Mon dieu, I missed this pussy so fucking much,” he moaned, “I'm gonna take such a good care of you baby… But I'm still waiting.”

He drew another long line across your labia, his tongue wet with your fluids. You threw your head back as your chest rose and fell rapidly.

“I was… I was thinking about your t-tongue licking me… Fuck I can't…”

He started licking you more vehemently, eating you out like a hungry man who hadn’t put anything in his stomach in months. His lips sucked on your folds as his tongue focused on your clit and that, coupled with the suppressed pleasure, was enough to push you over the edge.

Charles had never been as horny as he was at that moment. Every fiber of his body trembled with the desire to have you, he felt like he was burning, even though your pleasure came before everything and there was no more satisfying sexual act than pleasure you until your soul was consumed.

He slowly penetrated you with the vibrator and for a moment you seriously thought you were dying.

At that point you couldn’t think or say anything other that wasn’t a moan or a loud gasp.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck… Oh shit…”

You continued to squirm while he instead kept you anchored to the bed, preventing you from moving away. No matter how intense you and Charles’ sex life was, each time it was better than the last.

The combination of his tongue continuing to stimulate your clit, his mouth eating you out, and the vibrator inside you was too much, too much to bear. You didn’t know how much more your body could hold, how much more you could sustain before collapsing into many pieces.

Your hands threaded through his hair, pulling it and eliciting such a sexy growl from him you felt it in every corner of your body as your legs trembled so much you seemed to be convulsing.

“I can’t… Charles p-please…”

“Yes you can baby, you’re so good to me,” he murmured, almost risking coming again when you pulled his hair hard. He eventually gave up on knowing what you were thinking while touching yourself, knowing it’d be impossible for you to talk.

But god he fucking loved that. He loved seeing you squirm like that and not being even able to properly speak, he loved hearing you scream his name so loud all the neighbors must’ve heard you, he loved feeling the taste of your pussy so wet and your fluids covering his chin.

Your muscles began to tense, your guts to twist, your breathing irregular. The pleasure you were feeling in that moment was something you had never felt before, it was indescribable.

“Stop… Stop… I need… Please…” you cried out not knowing what you were saying, feeling like you were about to explode, trying to push his head away because of how overwhelming pleasure was.

Charles smiled on your pussy, continuing to lick you and let the vibrator penetrate you.

The orgasm that hit you full on was so intense it almost made your heart stop, your breathing caught up in your chest and your soul come out of your body. Waves of pleasure ran through your body as if shaken by electric shocks, and you would’ve been lying if you said you didn’t truly feel you were about to faint.

It was the most fucking beautiful and overwhelming orgasm you had ever felt in your life.

Charles licked and swallowed every trace of your leaking fluids, adding equally as much pleasure to that intense orgasm. Your head spun but at the same time, so light you felt yourself floating in space, momentarily disconnected from the entire world.

But he didn’t give you time to recover but from that sensational orgasm.

He tossed the vibrator onto a random spot on the bed and lifted himself up before grabbing your ankles and dragging you towards him and laying you flat on your back on the mattress.

He kissed you, sucking away that bit of strength and soul that was left in your body. You tasted yourself in his mouth, his chin and beard still wet with your fluids. His hands roamed ferociously all over your body and never before he was so desperate, hungry and eager to have you.

“I need you so fucking bad baby, god I need you,” he whispered against your lips as you tore off each others clothes which ended up being thrown somewhere in the room. “I need to be inside you.”

Charles let out a deep, loud moan as his dick penetrated you, practically sliding into you because of how wet you were. His chest rose and fell quickly as he tried not to come instantly even though it was damn hard when you wrapped and squeezed him so perfectly.

“Oh mon putain de dieu,” he cursed through gritted teeth, his breath heavy on your lips as he struggled to keep control. His forehead was covered in a light layer of sweat, his lips were parted as you breathed in each other's sighs and, damn it, he had never looked more mesmerizing and beautiful than he was in that moment.

You lost yourself in his eyes, those eyes you had missed so much it hurt, in those eyes in which you found your refuge from the world.

You wrapped your legs around his pelvis, pressing your heels into the small of his back in an attempt to get him closer to you, closer than he already was. It didn’t matter how warm his skin was pressed against yours, how close the two of you were, it was never enough, you always wanted more.

“Fucking hell baby you destroy me,” he groaned as he began to move his hips, making you writhe beneath him and pant as if you were the most experienced of porn stars. Your fingers traced his shoulders, nails instead pressing so deeply into his skin you feared he’d start to bleed.

“Yeah moan for me, let everyone know who gets to fuck you like this,” he groaned in your ear, causing a rush of shivers throughout your body, in contrast to the fire that instead blazed inside you. His thrusts were forceful, strong, so deep you were sure you wouldn't be able to sit up for days, his dick stretching every corner of your pussy.

You tried to kiss him but it was a messy kiss, which neither of you could continue due to the gasps and moans that were coming out of your mouths.

Charles was fucking you just like you’d expect an animal would and you couldn't even remember your own name anymore by then.

“Fuck baby fuck… Ah shit…” you moaned. “Don’t stop please don’t stop.”

He held you closer to him, as if somehow your souls could join, his face was hidden in the crook of your neck while his tongue licked your skin and his lips sucked them not caring if he could leave any mark.

“That’s it, that’s my pretty girl, shit, taking my dick so good,” he praised you making his dick twitch inside you as your walls tightened around him. “Oh yeah… Fuck… Keep clenching around me like that. You want to make me come? My pretty girl likes when I praise her doesn’t she?”.

God please have mercy on my soul because I’m about to die.

Charles felt he was about to come but he didn’t want to, he still wanted to be buried deep inside you, he still wanted to feel your pussy so wet it could swallow him, he wanted to hear your moans in his ears, your nails scratching his back, he wanted to swallow your breaths and sighs.

He pulled out before grabbing your hips and flipping you onto your stomach, moving like he pleased as if you were a doll. He bent you over, your hands held together behind your back with his right hand and your face pressed against the mattress.

With a single thrust he penetrated you again, starting to fuck you again and picking up the same intense and ferocious rhythm and making you almost spit every organ in your body. The bed moved to the rhythm of his thrusts, creaking under your weight as the sound mixed with his groans, your moans and the sound of your skin colliding with each other.

The fingers of his left hand pressed into the skin of your hip as he continued to move aimlessly in and out of your pussy, fucking you mercilessly into oblivion. “Fuck I missed this, god yeah…” he moaned, throwing his head back, eyes half closed as he struggled to hold on any longer.

You were on the verge of losing consciousness, completely unsure whether you’d survive a second orgasm which, from the pleasure and the way your body was shaking and spasming, would come very soon and be just as overwhelming and shocking as the first one.

“Oh C-Charles… I can’t… Oh yeah just like that baby keep going… Fuck…” you babbled in pure ecstasy and bliss, feeling his dick hitting that deep spot inside you. The fact you couldn’t move and your hands were held behind your back added even more pleasure and intensity and you actually felt like you couldn’t breathe anymore.

He went deeper and deeper with each thrust and it didn't take long for your vision to blur and for another orgasm to completely destroy you, making you almost die on that mattress.

Death from an orgasm, that would’ve been a pretty good headline.

His movements started to become erratic, messy, losing the vigorous and ferocious rhythm he had been using until recently. “Ah shit, shit, I'm coming fuck yes… Ah yes!” he loudly groaned before giving one final thrust and with it emptying himself into you, his dick twitching as he filled you with his cum until the last drop.

He stayed inside you for a moment as he softened and tried to catch his breath, his mouth still slightly open, struggling to get air.

Charles let go of your hands which fell dead weight on the bed and when he pulled out you lay on the bed, exhausted and on the verge of requiring an oxygen tank. He did the same, collapsing dead weight next to you as well.

There was a few moments of silence, broken only by your heavy breathing as you both tried to get it back into a normal rhythm. You wanted to kiss him, hug him, hold him until he’d get tired of it but you were genuine when you said you couldn’t move a damn muscle.

“Wow…” he breathed out, eyes still closed. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life. I can’t wait to come back home the next time and see you touch yourself again.” You chuckled tiredly, your eyes closed too. “But I’m not going to lie, I almost had a heart attack as soon as I walked in the door. You really scared the shit out of me for a second bébé.”

“You’re so stupid. I only have eyes for you love, you know that,” you murmured, still laughing and finally managing to open your eyes only for your heart to explode when you looked at his serene expression and the small smile on his lips.

He’s here, he’s truly here.

It was only then that you stopped to look at him and there was no need to say that he was always breathtakingly beautiful, his hair was slightly longer since the last time, his lips rosy, his cheeks flushed and the joy that filled you for finally having him back again was indescribable.

“Can you kiss me now please Mr Leclerc?”.

He opened his eyes and a laugh came out of his mouth before he leaned in and left a sweet, long kiss on your lips, lifting a hand and fixing the hair fallen in your face that you were sure looked more like a nest of birds.

“Welcome home baby.”

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