#it's their respective husbands who would be........interesting to observe

[lakeffect]

How long do you think it would take the reader to actually fall in love with Capitano because they're in an arranged marriage? And the other way around

Starting with Capitano!

Capitano will always uphold the values of marriage and will be a model husband. He is an a generous yet pragmatic provider. Capitano will not spoil you, but he will ensure what you have is more than adequate for your needs. However, above all, Capitano is honest and loyal, he will never lie or attempt to deceive you.

At first this ideal husband behavior is more so because he respects the institution of marriage very highly and not necessarily because of who you are, though Capitano makes an effort to get to know you. He questions you about your habits and hobbies and after a while will think about how to cater to them.

Capitano actually has rather high expectations of his spouse. I imagine Capitano was pushed to marry due to his status and position, so he will want a partner who is independent, intelligent and dutiful. He will expect the same level of respect in the union that he is giving to you. The irony is that while he picked these characteristics to get a lover who will not disturb him, Capitano is deeply attracted to diligent, mindful and clever individuals. So as the reader demonstrates these traits, Capitano begins to fall in love with them, but due to their independent nature they aren't be the most receptive to the ways in which Capitano shows love, namely by being over protective and insisting on doing everything together. He's home so seldom that what little free time he has he would prefer to spend with his spouse. This becomes especially apparent the longer you two are together.

As detailed above, Capitano possesses many admirable traits which on paper make him easy to fall for, however this ignores his blunt, keen and sometimes prideful nature which depending on who you are, could rub you the wrong way at first.

He is an acute observer even without you detailing the quotidian goings on of your daily life, Capitano will start to notice and comment. He isn't necessarily critiquing, just seeing and noting. He will casually tell you about yourself which can be incredibly jarring at first, especially if you're unused to being seen by the people in your life. However...when it comes to himself, he doesn't freely offer information which can be frustrating. He wants to expose all of your inner workings, but is very selective when divulging his own. He begins to share more freely when you earn his trust, which builds slower than his actual affections for you. Capitano will come to love you before he fully trusts you. It's just the nature of the fatui that make him so suspicious and not necessarily you. He wants to trust you but years in his position have made it difficult for him to lower his guard.

Basically, Capitano appreciates a partner who is brave, self-sufficent and above all loyal. Devote yourself to him and Capitano will find his feelings changing rather soon into your union. Ultimately it takes maybe 2-3 months for Capitano to fall for the reader.

The reader in A Lady's Secret is incredibly independent and self-sufficient young woman from a modest background who knows what she wants and doesn't require Capitano's support. She is principled, hardworking, and doesn't meddle in Capitano's affairs. In fact she develops a pretty well rounded life outside of their marriage. She has season tickets to the ballet, successfully convinces Capitano to let her have two dogs (large thick furred beasts who can easily takedown wolves) and walks them around the forest to visit their distant neighbors when the winds aren't too cold.

The reader does these activities alone because she assumes that Capitano wouldn't want to join her but when he quietly questions why she doesn't invite him she starts to incorporate him into these activities. Not all of them. Capitano has no interest in visiting the neighbors, but he can be convinced to attend a quiet night at the ballet and walk the dogs in the forest. And the reader while initially worried she'd find that his company dulled her experiences, is delighted to realize that she actually prefers his accompaniment.

They definitely butted heads in the beginning when Capitano demanded that she inform him every time she left the house. She wasn't too keen on her whereabouts being surveilled, as she was used to coming and going as she pleased. Initially he was more flexible about these things but as he began to get attached he assigned her a personal body guard which had her really annoyed with him. This led to an argument where she called "smothering" and he called her "stubborn."

The difficult part for the reader early on is that she's intensely attracted to Capitano so she starts the sexual part of their relationship right away, but her feelings for him are slower to crystalize and Capitano uses this to his advantage. When you're still arguing with him about a security detail, he'll be withholding until you agree to his terms.

For someone as independent as the reader she struggles with Capitano's desire for control over her. He's not possessive per se but he is very very over protective and unfortunately due to his position he has every right to be. She just resents that she doesn't quite feel like his equal when he frets over her like this.

However, as she comes to appreciate his company, she is more permissive of Capitano's particular brand of affection which is demonstrated through ensuring her safety. Once the reader learns to appreciate Capitano's brand of care she falls for him. He is a supportive partner and an excellent listener. He is stoic and gruff but she knows from his actions that he cares for her deeply. I would say it takes the reader about 5-7 months to reciprocate his feelings in earnest.

[hedwig221b]

I absolutely love all the fic recommendations you give and I think you are an absolute angel for doing them. And I feel really bad for asking for some but I’ve been searching and I’m coming up short on them so I wanted to ask if you (or your follows because the suggestions they leave on other asks always so good!) know of any good Viking or medieval type of Sterek stories. Please and thank you so much!

💐💐💐💐

Hello, my love, here you are, hope you like these

Medieval

Under the Wide Blue Sky by zeit

Crown Prince Stiles returns home after many long months away commanding his father's armies. He doesn't feel he understands the true motives of his enemies, but having ended the battle for now, he turns his attention instead, albeit begrudgingly, to finding someone who might sit at his side someday when he assumes the throne. His childhood affection for Sir Derek blooms anew when the man accompanies his younger sister, Lady Cora, to the capital to be presented as a formal suitor for Stiles's hand in marriage.

Weaving Peace, Stitch My Heart by Susihukka, wanderingeyre

After a generation of a devastating war, the countries of Triskel and Astoria have come to a peace agreement. The only son of Astoria, Stiles, will offer himself as a Peaceweaver in marriage to the second oldest child of Triskel, Derek. Stiles is nervous but excited to meet his new husband and start a family. Unfortunately, for Stiles, his intended wants nothing to do with him.

A Princely Knight by Dexterous_Sinistrous

He would stand by Stiles’ side, a constant shadow of protection until his death. A life for a life, one worth much more than an orphan turned thief turned royal guard could comprehend. In truth, Derek saw the one person he would gladly give his life for, because Stiles made this world better. ~*~ Or, Stiles is a prince and Derek is his knight.

Wolf Winter by DarkAthena (seraphim_grace)

Stiles is the legitimate omega son of King Deucalion, tricked by his brother Theo into running away he is trapped, ruined and unable to return home he finds himself stuck, captured as a poacher by the infamous Hale clan he claims sanctuary in their small chapel and Peter puts him to work, with Derek just returned from the crusades he needs a new healer and the only option they've got is the boy in the chapel who is pretending to be a beta

The White Hart of Winter by DarkAthena (seraphim_grace)

Sent to marry the Hale Beast Stiles finds himself alone in a castle left to ruin and watched over by Kate Argent, who he thinks is sleeping with his new husband and seems determined to destroy him.

A Devotion by TroubleIWant

There’s a boy exiting the doors as they approach. Where Derek is tan from hours outside, the boy is pale except for a few beauty marks on one cheek. He’s dressed in fine riding clothes, and flanked by a guard wearing the sign of the royal house. A noble, then. He’s younger than Derek, but, considering his higher station, a bow would be appropriate. Despite that, Derek can’t help looking curiously at the boy, who’s looking back at Derek with just as much interest. For a moment, their eyes meet - the boy’s are a deep amber in the sunlit courtyard, ringed by long, tawny lashes. A gloved hand smacks the back of Derek’s head and he instinctively flinches away, hunching his shoulders. He loses track of the other boy as they pass one another, and as he turns to get another look, the knight grabs his shoulder and marches him forward into the stable. “Keep your eyes to yourself,” the knight instructs. “And next time, show the proper respect to Crown Prince Stiles.” Or: A medieval AU that's a little Princess Bride, a little bit more Game of Thrones, and a healthy side-serving of gay erotica.

The Thorns of a Rose by Dexterous_Sinistrous

"You have your mother’s eyes,” Peter suddenly commented, his tone light in his observation. Stiles stiffened at the mention of his mother. “Honest eyes,” Peter added as an afterthought. “Sunlit like the golden embers of coal burning in a forge.” Stiles turned a soured expression on Peter. “Have you a point?” He asked. “Many men have struggled to have those eyes even spare them a glance,” Peter simply stated. “An honest but naive treasure that managed to fool a dragon.” He placed the crown on Stiles’ head, amused when the boy immediately pushed away from him once the ornament was in place. “Hopefully those eyes can fool the Seven Kingdoms into thinking you could love a wolf.”

an exaltation of larks by llassah

There are times when he feels as if they could fall into bed together, easy as breathing. If Stiles were not highborn, if he were an omega without connections, Derek would be sorely tempted. As it is, he resists. Derek wants, he yearns, but he resists. Still, the sight of Stiles in his cot is enough to test him, even now that it is familiar. At the end of each lambing season, he sleeps for a week, worn down by months of hard work, of relentless struggle. He doesn’t know how he’ll feel by the time Stiles leaves, how he’ll feel after long days and longer nights spent resisting the insistent tug of Stiles’s scent and the inclinations of his own foolish heart. All Derek wants is to get through the lambing season with his body and spirit intact. He had thought that the blizzards would be the main danger, not a highborn omega with beautiful eyes and a stubborn streak.

The Light in the Woods by DiscontentedWinter

To honour a treaty with the people of a strange land, Derek Hale, prince of the kingdom of Triskelion, has to marry Stiles.

bend bridges, mend bones by Thealmostrhetoricalquestion

They burst through the portal in a gust of stale air and violet light, landing hard on the outskirts of a swamp. Stiles feels his knees buckle, both from the magic required to keep the portal open and from the force of their landing, but he grits his teeth, determined to stay standing in the presence of Derek Hale and his pack. Christ, it would be just his luck to rocket through his own portal at neck-breaking speeds and collide face-first with a puddle of sticky, disgusting mud. Thankfully that doesn’t happen, which is good because Stiles can’t really afford to add useless to the list of things that Mage’s are; untrustworthy cowards, meddlers, monsters. (In which there's an awful lot of fighting, people learn to trust people, and Stiles saves the day. Repeatedly. Over and over again. And he would like some credit, goddamnit, Derek.)

The Demands of Duty by Reiya_Wakayama

With the threat of war hanging over them, Stiles and his people are caught in the middle and must chose a side before they get smashed between both and with the threat of winter and a bad harvest weighing them down, he must chose quickly.

Deflowered by astrugglingstoic

In which there is a prince, a knight, sequential sword fights, and an anecdote about pressed flower petals.

If I die before my time, bury me upside down by ElisAttack

The boy is all of sixteen years old, a too large crown of gold resting on his head. The boy is sixteen years old, and Derek knows he would die for him. Or the one where Stiles is a young King, barely holding onto power, and Derek is his most trusted knight.

The Vow of a Wolf by Dexterous_Sinistrous

"There’s a boy with alabaster skin, scattered with moles,” Jennifer explained as she thought about Stiles. “With large, dove-like eyes. He’s accompanied by this wolf—the one with fur as black as the night they travel by.” “Is it the boy or the wolf you want dead?” The hunter questioned. “Kill the boy before you end the wolf’s life,” Jennifer commanded. “Let the wolf smell the blood of the boy it loves. Let it howl in pain before you end it.” “Yes, my lady,” the hunter dutifully answered.

For the Love of The Game (It Made Me Love You) by Quirky_chemist

Stiles tugs on the arm braces of his armor, tightening the leather straps so that they were snug and in place. Scott was watching him with worried eyes as he finishes suiting up for the tournament. Every few minutes he would mumble under his breath about how Stiles’ father would kill him if he found out what they were doing. It was easy enough to fake the papers needed for an unknown knight from a rarely heard of territory, especially when you had the resources that Stiles did. He would ride as his true identity, but none would ever ride against him. Knowing that he was royalty, every knight would quickly and surely send one of their men to cover their shield with a white flag in withdrawal. It was an annoying truth that Stiles could not deny.

Moon Tribe Battles by 3rdgenderfromthesun

Derek was an alpha and a general of the Moon Tribe and he was fierce and unfaltering. This war had been going on for generations and Derek had grown up with blood beneath his claws. Beyond the stench of death, blood, gunpowder, and crackling magic was the unbelievably alluring scent of Derek's mate.

Faoladh by 3rdgenderfromthesun

Prince Stiles has always been in love with the legend of the Faoladh- skin walkers who use the pelt of wolves to transform into their feral counterparts- but he never imagined he would be kidnapped in order to lure out the supposedly mythical creatures. The legends said that they found and returned lost children to their families and guarded the woods surrounding his father's kingdom, but Stiles was long past being a child when a dark furred Faoladh came to his rescue.

When All the Pieces Fit BY NARKOTIKA

"Does he even realize? With the cooking and cleaning andandand—now this fucking baby?" Isaac fumes. Said baby waves its fist in the air, and Stiles bends to haul him onto a hip. The baby babbles something and Stiles nods his head with complete seriousness, as if everything out of its mouth is perfectly sensible and coherent. Then the kid starts mouthing at Stiles' nipple through his dress and everyone goes dead silent. "I'm going to wife him so hard," Ethan announces, and they all break out into argument over who has the best chance at mating the boy in the river.

Under the Golden Moon BY NARKOTIKA

Derek doesn't know how long he sits in his wolf skin, on his haunches, observing Stiles as the sunbeams slant through the trees and cast slashes of light across the omega's willowy form. The boy has his feet in the water, a babe on his hip, a bright smile on his face as the other younglings splash around and soak his garb. The creamy skin of his thighs peek out from the slits running down the sides of his draping skirt, and Derek has never wanted anything more than he wants this beautiful being of the woods.

also these are vaguely medieval so there

Incandescent

"You are trying to court our alpha,” sang Lydia. “Surely you realize that he does not reciprocate.” “He doesn’t stop it.” There was no point in lying. Paige was courting Derek. She would be a fool not to. “He doesn’t care to.” Lydia arched her thin eyebrow. “Why do you think he’s still searching for his mate, hmm? Why didn’t he stop once you were here? You think you can annoy him into sleeping with you?” Lydia laughed. “He is a born wolf, darling. He will not fuck you if you are not his.”

your fangs against my skin (the sound of your bones)

This was it, then, huh? It was that easy for Derek to invite someone to his den. Someone other than Stiles. He healed the wolf. Stiles killed his tormentor, mended his blood and bones, and let him sleep beside him. But none of it was enough. He wasn’t a spark, after all, but a witch — evil and alone, locked up in his tower. Witches didn’t get happy endings.

Resistance

How dare the wolf taste those lips, hold him, panting and soft, trembling and eager, so close to his chest? How dare he? Jordan could not move, even if he wanted to. The slick sounds of their kiss, of tongues sliding softly against one another, bitten-off moans, and muffled mewls interspersed with crackling fire — it was hell for him. Stiles was everything Jordan dreamed he would be in a moment like this — he moved just right, arched so beautifully, bared his throat, and grabbed the hand that pressed to his stomach, keeping it there. His smell seeped across the tent, sweeter than ever before and deadly because of it. Jordan’s eyes stung, his fists clenching the cold sheets. Yet, he could not even take a proper breath, for everything smelled of him. For three years, Jordan told himself to resist. Three years of catching Stiles only for the omega to seep from his fingers. Years without ever holding his waist like Jordan wanted to. A month was all it took for Stiles to give it to the wolf.

Viking

Open Seas and Boundless Skies by violet_vengeance

Stiles has been used and abused by his step-brother for more years than he can count. In a final act of cruelty, Stiles is traded away to a fearsome Viking warrior. Little does Stiles know that this strange and brutish man may just be the start of his freedom.

A house without kindness by DarkAthena (seraphim_grace)

Driven to the far north by hunters Derek finds shelter in the snow

like the old gods

A wolf in the woods, a raven in the sky. (fenrir!derek)

The Downed Dragon by orangecrow

A thunderous crash brings viking werewolf Derek Hale to the edge of his pack's lands four days before the last autumn moon.

[masterlist link]

[lady-of-endless]

Risotto Nero romantic headcanons (sfw+nsfw)

Author's Note: Sorry for being an old-school romantic and writing headcanons like these, don't come at me. I wanted to take my time with Risotto as he is so complex. I really hope that those are not too far-fetched. I hope you'll enjoy it! The lovely gif is not mine, I'm thanking the owners for it.

P.S. Prosciutto will be next. I just have to calm down from the feels I have for the husband, I mean Prosciutto.

SFW

- The most beneficial context for your relationship is for it to start off as a partnership, a team. This way, you go through many critical and dramatic experiences together and that will only bring you closer and strengthen your connection. Even after confessing, this dynamic remains, you are still a team, watching for each other.

- Everything about him indicates a slow burn. From obtaining his trust first and then his heart. Even after those two are won, he's still reluctant to the new dynamic. He will never deny those feelings even if he thinks that someone in his position should. Risotto is not just rationally intelligent but also emotionally intelligent so he knows that such desires of the heart cannot be stopped. He doesn't deny the feelings but he suppresses them. He knows how complex those emotions are and that's the problem, it complicates everything around him and you. But little by little, he starts giving in and surrendering to his love.

- At first, he analyzed you only from a strategic point of view (regarding your abilities and how you can work with his team) and in time, it escalated into a deeper and more emotional point of view. Because of this and because Risotto values other opinions and perspectives from his teammates, he seeks advice. No, he won't ask directly but he'll be more attentive when the others talk about you. However, the only one who Risotto might ask for an opinion is Prosciutto because he shares some morals and principles with him. Surprisingly, Prosciutto will put his rational arguments aside a little bit because more than the respect and admiration he holds for Risotto, he wants him to experience this sort of happiness.

- Risotto will not know how to react when receiving your affection, at first. There are many thoughts and morals that don't let him receive affection right. Many of those thoughts are regarding his line of work. He has made peace with the fact that he's not a good man, that he doesn't deserve good things. He's okay with it now, he did what he had to do.

- His preferred love language is acts of service. He's used to doing things for others (but even so he doesn't see how selfless he is) so acts of service are his way to show his feelings. He would do anything for his close ones so for you, his loved one, he would die for you, kill for you, protect you, anything, you name it. Plus, Risotto is always very observant and because his interest is your well-being, he pays extra attention to your needs. About receiving, it can be anything. Again, he doesn't see himself worthy of love.

- He rarely smiles so when you finally catch a glimpse of this rare occasion and compliment him, Risotto is lost. Any sort of comment like this will have him feel things he never felt before, in a good way. As a result, he starts smiling softly more at you in privacy.

- If you get severely injured on a mission, he still keeps his composure in your presence while helping you, patching you up, and even trying to heal you with Metallica. He's serious while doing it but it will be the only time in which his hands start trembling. After helping you, while you rest, he's still there watching over you fully neglecting his need for rest. As you sleep and he looks at your injuries, that's when his composure breaks. The guilt he's feeling is heavy in his heart, thinking how this way of life is not what you deserve and it's his fault.

- He's capable of many things, he's also a strategist but that doesn't mean that he doesn't have moments in which it all gets too much to process. That's where you come to the rescue. He doesn't want to pass his difficulties to you so it will take a lot for him to let himself tell you what's wrong.

- Secrecy and subtility are a must. But he'll get you (he'll make it), a dainty and thin silver bracelet with a charm that resembles some sort of blade. Whenever he's thinking of you and wants to let you know it, you'll feel that bracelet move a bit from his magnetism, as a reminder.

- As subtle as he thought he was, in time, every member of La Squadra will know what his feelings are towards you. Melone was the first to notice the way Risotto looked at you. Since his discovery, Melone couldn't keep it for himself and since then, they all started behaving suspiciously. They smirk every time you talk to Risotto about missions and other formal details, they try to let the two of you alone more, and so on.

NSFW

- Contrary to popular belief, he's not rough (not every time at least) or freaky behind closed doors. His usual and favorite approach is slow and deep. He likes to take his time with it as he sees sex as not just a way to get pleasure but a moment of deepening the connection you have already.

- He never wants to use sex as an outlet for his pent-up frustrations and stress but if you give him the green light, he might give into it when things get too much to bear. But he still holds back a little bit, worried about how rough he can easily get. If you're into this rough approach as well and it's noticeable, he'll feel less guilty but still careful.

- He can go on with the foreplay for hours. Risotto likes to feel the tension build. Enjoying the reactions and the growing desire gives him the most pleasure, more than the act itself. Because of this, he might sometimes slip into trying orgasm denial with you.

- At first, he doesn't see the point of experimenting with kinks because he's so touch-starved. He only needs you. However, gradually he will start asking you for consent about some ideas he has. Watch out for your hands. If you get them close to the metal bars of the bed, your wrists will get caught in metal bindings in the blink of an eye.

- Quiet in the beginning but soon you'll see him losing his composure and start grunting and growling close to your ear as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. Not only that but you'll hear sweet words of affirmation, unheard before as he gets lost in the feeling of you.

- Aftercare is obligatory. It always gets intense, sometimes even rough, and he's aware of his size too so calming you down and taking care of you is both a way of showing his gratitude and also a duty (don't get this one wrong, he sees the act of aftercare as important as the rest of his duties, that's it). The aftercare always ends with him holding your hand and kissing it as another silent expression of his gratefulness and adoration for you. It's his unbreakable habit.

- He has to admit, he likes to mark you. Not in a possessive way, that's why those marks will only be on parts that are not usually visible. But because he loves the image and concept of your skin reacting to his affection. You can leave marks on him as long as they're not visible, again, it's about secrecy and subtility. He might feel a bit proud, just a bit, when he looks in the mirror at the scratches you left on his back.

- Doesn't get bored of being on top. After all of that slow burn and build-up of your deep connection, of course, he wants to look into your eyes when you both let yourselves be engulfed in the pleasure. Might even get a little mischievous with it when he's in a good mood. "If you look away, I'll stop."

The only situations in which you are the one on top are when you simply ask for it or when you tell him you want to help him relax. Hearing those words coming from you while you start touching him with care and warmth is going to be the death of him.

- Not a fan of quickies. He needs the whole thing. As mentioned before, he needs to feel the tension built and loves taking his time with it. But also, above all, he wants to treat you right so a quickie will never be enough for this.

[aphroditelovesu]

Yan!Alexander the Great w/ Soldier's Pregnant Widow!Reader

❝ 📜 — lady l: this is a commission that I was very happy to do! I'm sorry for the delay, I confess that I had forgotten this in my drafts and only remembered it after reading your messagem, anon! I hope you enjoy it and, as requested, it is more based on Alexander's feelings for the Reader. Forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️

❝tw: mention of death, mourning. pregnancy and fluff.

❝📜pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader.

You were the wife of one of Alexander's cavalry soldiers who, unlike many other soldiers' wives, decided to accompany him to war. You loved your husband deeply and did not want to be separated from him.

Your husband also loved you deeply. He wasn't a general or a high-ranking officer, but your husband tried to make you as comfortable as possible in this violent environment. He was loyal to you, something rare but one you appreciated. You loved him with everything in you.

Until the day you lost him. During the Battle of Granicus, your husband died in battle and your world collapsed. You had lost the man you loved and it felt like an endless road. Alexander, being the beloved King that he was, buried the dead soldiers with the necessary honors and spoke to the wives present in the camp. And one of them was you.

Alexander was immediately enchanted by you. He was surprised at how you handled your grief, clearly you loved your husband very much and the pain of the loss you felt captivated him. He didn't take long to approach you subtly at first.

Alexander was kind and protective, offering his condolences and staying by your side. His words were kind and his discreet smiles were reserved just for you. More observant people didn't take long to notice the King's interest in you, but they never dared to say anything, not when they knew his temperament.

You found yourself lost in a sea of pain and sadness, unable to find comfort in anything around you. Alexander's comforting presence was like an anchor in the midst of the storm, offering support and compassion in such a dark time. He understood your pain as he had also lost soldiers close to him.

Alexander felt compelled to protect and care for you, not only out of gratitude for your husband's sacrifice, but also because he genuinely cared for you. His discreet smiles and kind gestures were an attempt to ease your pain, to be a ray of light amid the darkness you faced.

Although you fought your feelings, you found yourself enjoying the King's presence. But you soon discovered that you were pregnant by your late husband and you decided to focus on honoring your husband's memory and focusing on the baby growing inside you.

Alexander didn't like it at all when you tried to move away from him but he soon understood why. He wasn't angry or anything, but surprised and slightly bothered. You would have a child, something he wanted, but it wouldn't be with him. He couldn't blame you, though, it wasn't your fault.

As time passed, your belly grew and the pain of loss lessened, you found yourself more and more involved in the camp's activities, keeping yourself busy to keep away the thoughts that haunted you at night. And you found yourself increasingly close to Alexander, who made his feelings for you very clear.

He respected the fact that you weren't ready to get married due to the fact that you were pregnant, he could wait until the baby was born. But he wasn't far from you, spending his free time by your side while also taking care of you. You owned your own tent and personal effects, along with those of your late husband.

In time, your husband's child was born, and you held it in your arms with love and sadness. It was a part of him you would carry forever, a living reminder of the man you loved so much. Alexander was present and he acted as if your child were his. He didn't even like it when people mentioned it wasn't his.

You were his and your baby was his too. Alexander was skeptical about it at first but he warmed up to the idea. The mourning period is over and your child has been born, now it is time for you to become his wife and have children of his own.

[cilleatandserve]

ᴄᴀᴘᴀʙʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ʟᴏᴠᴇ

Masterlist

Summary: After seperated lovers are conveniently and temporarily single, the flame reignites. Although it was extinguished for a reason.

Warnings: Cheating, Smut(unprotected p in v), Death, Yearning, Rejection

A/N: Feels a bit rushed but nonetheless hope it’s interesting!

London, England.

February 20th 1914

Do you want the truth? Grief is like spilled glitter. When it first spills, it’s everywhere, an overwhelming mess. But as you clean it up, it seems less intense, though every now and then, you still find remnants, sparkling reminders. Grief is love with nowhere to go, and it has defined the last three months of your life.

Your husband passed away from influenza that December. His recovery depended on rest, but that rest was tragically short-lived. His death was anything but peaceful, a term you resist applying to it. It has debilitated you, and your income is dwindling in this unforgiving economy. Rain pours heavily as you stare out the window of the cold house he left behind. You've always hated winter, despite England's persistent chill. Your breath slows, matching the rhythm of raindrops tracing paths on the glass. For a moment, your memory pulls you back to the summer of '03, to your adolescence.

Everything comes and goes in waves. The landscape remains unchanged: the cornfields, the cows, the flies, the constant coughing. The musky air fills the rows, permeating everything, even through the ash-infested vents from distant fires. It eats away at the bark of trees, just as this grief eats away at the last vestiges of happiness clinging to your bones. The other night, wrapped in crisp sheets, you clenched your body, imagining yourself as an embryo in your mother's womb. It was the only source of warmth and comfort capable of lulling you to sleep. But now, you see sheep grazing on green pastures outside the window. You hope they have water. Sometimes, you imagine being reincarnated as one of them, jumping over the low wire fences to freedom. You wonder how far you could get before a human catches you, tames you, and brings you back to their living painting—a life to observe as they wash dishes, smeared with the mother's milk they stole from you.

But it's not all darkness and despair. There are moments of hope. You wonder if, in the future, you’ll look back and think that these miles of cornfields, these anguished breaths, these forced smiles, these fleeting moments of calm, were all worth it. You don't know exactly where you're supposed to be. A hollow thought takes control, leaving you adrift in uncertainty.

Birmingham, England

June 13th, 1899

You and Ada were thick as thieves, partners in crime with a shared love for chaos. The days were a canvas for your pranks, each one more elaborate and ridiculous than the last. You’d spend hours whispering plans, giggling over the potential mayhem you were about to unleash.

But then there was Thomas. He moved with a quiet authority that made the air around him shift. While you and Ada reveled in your youthful antics, he seemed to carry the weight of the world in his eyes. His gaze alone was enough to make you freeze, a stark reminder that there were consequences to your actions.

Despite the undercurrent of respect, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of fear. Thomas was a force to be reckoned with, a man who demanded order in a world that often felt like it was spiraling out of control. You knew that crossing him would be a mistake, and yet, the thrill of pushing boundaries often outweighed your better judgment.

December 2nd, 1906

The thought of Thomas still makes your heart skip a beat. It's funny, isn't it? How someone who once seemed so distant and intimidating could become your secret confidant, your stolen moments of peace. It all started so innocently, a shared glance here, a lingering touch there. Before you knew it, you were both caught in a whirlwind of unspoken desires, drawn together by an invisible force that neither of you could resist.

You smile as the memories flood back, the clandestine meetings, the hushed whispers in the dark. The beach in winter, your sanctuary, the waves crashing against the shore like a symphony of secrets. The water, crystal clear, reflecting the raw emotions that swirled within you. Thomas, his eyes softened, his touch gentle, a stark contrast to the stoic figure you once knew.

Sixteen, young, and reckless, you dove headfirst into a love that was as pure as it was forbidden. There were no labels, no expectations, just two souls connecting on a level that transcended words. You built a world of your own, a haven where you could be vulnerable, where you could be yourselves, away from the judging eyes of the world. It was a love born in the shadows, fueled by passion and secrecy, a love that would forever be etched in your heart.

London, England

April 8th, 1919

Spring flowers bloom, a sight you could easily grow accustomed to as you gaze out the same familiar window. It was once obscured by relentless rain and a disheartening absence of sun, but now, it frames a scene of renewal, painting your world in vibrant hues. You check your mailbox, a routine task that has become almost meditative, only to find a letter—an invitation to a wedding. Interesting, you think, a wry smile playing on your lips, considering how few people you've allowed into your life since your husband's passing.

Wariness creeps in as you open the letter, discovering it's an invitation to Thomas Shelby's wedding. Your heart skips a beat, momentarily ceasing its rhythm as you read the rest of the letter. The words blur, however, as your mind fixates on the sender's name, replaying old memories. You and Thomas had drifted apart naturally, a gradual fading of contact, yet you had somehow underestimated your significance in his life to warrant such an invitation.

Ignoring the letter seems like the easiest course of action, a silent declaration of your unsuitability for a wedding you're convinced will be both awkward and dull. It would be so simple to let it gather dust, to pretend it never arrived, and to continue living in the quiet solitude you've grown accustomed to.

September 28th 1919

Weeks turn into months, each day blurring into the next with a monotonous rhythm, and no letters break the silence. It's surprising, really, how a tiny, almost forgotten fragment of your life has now ballooned into a significant part of everyone else's narrative. Thomas has become quite infamous, his name whispered with a mix of awe and apprehension, but you find yourself resolutely uninterested in those affairs. Or anyone's, for that matter. Your world has shrunk, the boundaries defined by your own solitude.

Yet, even within your self-imposed isolation, news finds a way in. You didn't need to receive any formal correspondence to learn of Thomas's wife's death—Grace Burgess. A beautiful girl, she was, young and full of life, now tragically cut short. The news casts a shadow, a somber reminder of the fragility of happiness.

You can no longer ignore the situation, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on you. The right thing to do, the only thing that aligns with your sense of decency, is to send your condolences. It's a moral obligation you can't sidestep, a bridge you must cross despite the lingering discomfort. You resolve to travel as soon as possible, compelled by a sense of duty, perhaps a flicker of lingering affection, and a deep-seated need to offer solace in the face of profound loss.

Birmingham, England

October 5th, 1919

The train ride stretches on, yet the journey seems to pass in a blur, your mind teeming with a torrent of thoughts. Thomas never coped well with grief; you witnessed it firsthand with the loss of his mother and father. You can only imagine the depths of sorrow he must be navigating now. Uncertainty gnaws at you, though, as you're unsure of where you stand with him, especially considering the complexities of his love life. It's not as if you parted on bad terms, but time and distance have created a chasm between you.

Upon arriving at Birmingham station, you make your way toward his house, guided by directions from a helpful passerby and a diligent driver. You knock on the imposing wooden door, and to your surprise, Thomas answers almost immediately, as if he had been passing by. His face is etched with fatigue, a mirror of the weariness you remember seeing in your own eyes back in 1914. Though he betrays no outward surprise at your presence, he wordlessly ushers you inside.

“Thomas, I'm very sorry about your loss," you murmur, settling into a chair as he urges you to remove your coat and accept a cup of tea.

He appears to be simmering with anger, though he restrains it in your presence. First impressions after a long time, but you've aged gracefully, still retaining a youthful glow. He's not sure he can say the same for himself. A wave of guilt washes over him, a recognition of his failure to offer support during your partner's passing—a partner he never approved of. Perhaps that's why he kept his distance.

"Not your fault," he says quietly, but the words ring hollow. He knows, deep down, that it was his fault, or at least he strongly believes it to be.

“I'm here when you need me. I always have been," you reassure him, though the sincerity of your claim is undermined by your absence over the past decade.

"You came all the way down to Birmingham, huh?" he joked through the dark. You both knew he kept track of your location, though neither of you mentioned it. You looked too much like Grace for him to stay calm. Or maybe Grace looked like you. He definitely had a type: beautiful, intelligent women.

"Yes, I'm sorry I couldn't make it to the wedding. I, uh," you stammered, trying to come up with an excuse through the sudden brain fog. He spoke before you could embarrass yourself further.

"That's fine. How long are you here for?" he asked curiously, changing the topic from his grievance.

"Just the weekend," you answered as you fiddled with the handle of your mug. It had been a while since you two had talked, and he was very different. The stoic Tommy you were once afraid of was back. It was as if he had never left, just temporarily gone. You didn't expect the spark to return instantly, though you noticed he never stopped looking at you. And not in a normal way, but with an intimidating gaze. The kind of look someone uses when they want to devour you whole.

Before you could say anything else, he reached across the small space between you, his hand gently cupping your cheek. His thumb stroked your skin as he leaned in, his eyes never leaving yours. The world seemed to fade away as his lips met yours. It wasn't a gentle, tentative kiss; it was full of pent-up longing and a raw intensity that sent shivers down your spine. His lips moved against yours with a possessive hunger, and you found yourself responding in kind, your fingers tangling in his hair. The kiss deepened, a silent conversation of unspoken desires and unresolved feelings.

October 6th, 1919

The morning sun sliced through the heavy velvet curtains of Tommy's bedroom, painting stripes of gold across the unfamiliar landscape of dark wood and sharp angles. You stirred, a groan escaping your lips as you stretched, every muscle protesting the unfamiliar mattress. Your eyelids fluttered open, and the hazy memories of the night before crashed down on you like a tidal wave. Tommy's face was mere inches from yours, his dark hair a chaotic mess against the crisp white pillowcase. He looked younger in sleep, almost vulnerable, but the lines etched around his eyes hinted at the battles he fought even in his dreams.

Panic seized you, a cold fist clenching around your heart. How could you have been so reckless? The intensity of his gaze, the desperation in his touch, the way he made you feel like the only woman in the world - it had all been a carefully constructed illusion, a temporary escape from the harsh realities of your life. You had allowed yourself to be seduced by the ghost of a past that could never be resurrected, a dangerous game with a man who would always prioritize his own ambition over your happiness. The vulnerability of the moment, the allure of what once was, had clouded your judgment, leading you down a path you knew was fraught with peril.

A wave of nausea washed over you as you slipped out of bed, your movements as silent as a shadow. The opulent room, once a symbol of Tommy's power and success, now felt like a gilded cage, trapping you in a web of your own making. You gathered your clothes from the floor, your fingers fumbling with the buttons as you dressed quickly, desperate to erase any trace of your presence. Tommy stirred beside you, a low groan rumbling in his chest, but he didn't wake. You hesitated for a moment, a flicker of tenderness warring with the overwhelming sense of regret. But you knew that lingering would only prolong the inevitable, dragging you deeper into a cycle of heartache and disappointment. With a final, lingering look at the sleeping figure in the bed, you turned and fled, leaving behind the wreckage of a night you knew you would forever regret. As you walked away, a profound sense of loss settled over you, mingled with a fierce determination to reclaim your life and forge a future free from the intoxicating grip of Tommy Shelby. This wasn't the way forward, you reminded yourself. You couldn't allow yourself to be consumed by a love that was ultimately destructive. You had to prioritize your own well-being, even if it meant leaving a part of yourself behind, forever buried in the shadows of Small Heath.

London, England.

November 7th, 1919

Tom was distraught concerning your absence in his room, the emptiness echoing around him like a haunting melody. You were the one person he had ever allowed himself to be vulnerable with, and now you had left him, just like always. It was a familiar pattern, one that traced back to your teenage years when he had poured out his heart to you, only to watch you walk away time and time again. Months passed, and he tried desperately to erase the memory of you, battling his grief over Grace, who had always been a constant in his life. His love-deprived mind spiraled into a dark place, and in a moment of reckless determination, he found himself on the first train to London, propelled by a desperate need to confront the ghost of what you two once shared.

Arriving at the location scribbled on a note from one of his men, he knocked on the door, his heart pounding in his chest. When the door swung open, it revealed you, shrouded in darkness, already ready for bed. The sight of you sent a rush of emotions through him, and before he could fully grasp the gravity of the moment, he blurted out,

“Will you marry me, Y/N?” The plea hung in the air, thick with desperation. It was clear this was not the ideal cycle, and you felt a wave of indignation wash over you. It felt profoundly disrespectful to both Grace and your husband, despite the prolonged time you had spent single.

Your initial surprise quickly faded, replaced by a rising tide of anger. How could he think this was the answer? But Tom continued, his voice trembling as he almost begged,

“Please tell me not to go. We’ve been here long before. I’ll always be yours. I can feel you with me like I did before. I'll wait here tomorrow, outside your door. Like I did in December, when you held me close.” He paused between each sentence, his vulnerability laid bare before you, yet you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was all a mirage. He would never be something serious, and deep down, you knew you wouldn’t either. Fate had decided long before you met that this was not the path for you both, and as much as it pained you to admit it, you had to let him go once more.

Birmingham, London.

August 3rd, 1921

Almost two years had passed before he found someone to take your place. And this time, she would be at the wedding. You drive to Birmingham, a place you haven't visited in what feels like forever. Your red dress is a bold splash of color, standing out against the sea of beige suits. As you walk into the event, you can't help but scan the room, amusedly counting the familiar faces from Thomas's new life. You find a quiet corner and sit there throughout the ceremony.

After it ends, you're approached by Thomas and his wife—Lizzie, you believe. "Y/N. You came," he says, then adds, "You look beautiful." The nerve of him. You can see Lizzie is barely holding it together. But you just smile and offer your congratulations to them both. You don't seem as upset as he still is, and he seems as happy as he'll allow himself to be for you.

Later, as the wedding winds down, you find yourself on the balcony. Thomas comes out to smoke a cigarette, offering you one, but you decline. You quit a long time ago. "If you're in a good place, I won't mess with that," you say. You realize you can never truly get enough of him. No matter how much you try to escape, you always crave his presence and attention. You assume he feels the same, considering your frequent meetings over the years. His silence is broken by the tears forming in your eyes. How far have you fallen, chasing after a married man who could have been yours? "I need to leave," you say, turning to walk back into the crowded room and out to a taxi waiting outside. He follows for a moment, but gives up when Lizzie places her hand on his shoulder, not even bothering to ask who you are or what you mean to him.

As the taxi pulled away, Y/N watched Thomas recede into the background, his figure framed by the warm glow of the wedding venue. The tears she had fought back on the balcony finally streamed down her face, each drop a testament to the years of unresolved feelings and unspoken words. The city lights blurred through the taxi window, mirroring the confusion and regret swirling within her. She couldn't shake the image of Lizzie's hand on Thomas's shoulder, a silent claim that echoed the life Y/N had once envisioned for herself.

The weight of her decision to leave Birmingham years ago pressed down on her. She had sought freedom and a new identity, but in doing so, she had inadvertently created a void that Thomas had filled with someone else. The red dress, once a symbol of her boldness, now felt like a costume, a desperate attempt to recapture a moment in time that was forever lost. As the taxi navigated through the city streets, Y/N realized that her craving for Thomas's presence was not just about him, but about the life she had left behind and the person she had once been.

Back at the wedding, He watched the taxi disappear into the night, a sense of finality washing over him. Lizzie's touch was a grounding force, a reminder of the life he had chosen and the commitment he had made. Yet, Y/N's unexpected appearance had stirred up dormant emotions, a bittersweet reminder of what could have been. As he turned back to rejoin the celebration, he carried with him the weight of unspoken words and the knowledge that some connections, no matter how profound, are destined to remain unresolved.

August 5th, 1921

As you settle into the flat you booked just for this wedding, the plush armchair feels like a mocking embrace. The London skyline glimmers outside the window, indifferent to the turmoil in your thoughts. You replay the wedding in your mind, the champagne flutes, the forced smiles, and then your abrupt departure. "What a waste," you mutter, the words hanging heavy in the sterile air of the temporary apartment.

Suddenly, a knock echoes through the hallway, jolting you from your reverie. You open the door to find Thomas standing there, his eyes mirroring a mix of longing and regret. Before you can speak, he pulls you into a passionate kiss, a desperate plea for something more. "I can't keep pretending, can you?" he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. "Let me come in, let's talk."

Inside, the air crackles with unspoken desires and forbidden possibilities. "What are we doing, Thomas?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. He steps closer, his hand gently tracing the curve of your face. "I want us to be more than friends," he confesses, his gaze intense. And in that moment, the boundaries blur, and you both step into the dangerous territory of an affair, fully aware of the consequences that await.

You don't hesitate, grabbing Thomas by the collar of his expensive suit and pulling him into the flat. The urgency is a tangible thing, a force pulling you both forward. You stumble slightly, kicking the door shut with your heel before pushing him gently towards the bed. The mattress feels thin beneath him, the sheets crisp and cool against his back.

He looks up at you, eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and anticipation. You lean down, your lips meeting his in a kiss that's both desperate and tender. His hands begin to wander, exploring the curve of your waist, the small of your back. A thrill courses through you, a heady mix of guilt and excitement.

Breaking the kiss, you settle onto his hips, straddling him. The weight of your body presses him further into the mattress. With a practiced move, you lift your dress, the fabric sliding easily over your skin. Thank god you chose something simple, not one of those layered monstrosities that would take forever to get off. The air thickens with unspoken desires, the promise of something forbidden hanging heavy between you.

He sets your panties aside before unbuttoning and taking his cock out. With a few strokes, it hardens and is positioned below your hips. With a groan and a swift push, his cock sinks into your hole. As deep as possible as your hips meet his. After a few seconds of heavy breathing, you move your hips against his slowly before his hands help you speed up. Your hips move up and sink down, your legs spreading and feet curling with each movement. He groans and his head rests back. He remembers suddenly why he loved you so much. No one else felt like this.

What does this mean for you both? Is this a fleeting, one-time encounter, or the start of a prolonged affair? As the high begins to fade, worry creeps in, clouding your thoughts with possibilities. He had just come inside you. Had he used protection, one of those new latex condoms? The thought of a child in this economy, in your current situation, sends a shiver down your spine. Half of you is completely opposed to the idea, but the other half is strangely enamored. You imagine a child that looks just like him, with his temper, his energy, running around causing chaos. It's a cliché, isn't it? One touch, and you're already wrapped around his finger. You need to get yourself together.

Get yourself together.

[sematarygirls]

how did swan!reader and rafe meet?

🦢 ⊹ᡣ𐭩₊⋆ ─── swan!reader and rafe's first meeting

   once again, rafe had somehow found himself roped into attending some business dinner party with his father and rose that he had no interest or care for. he had much better things to do on a saturday night than plastering on a charming, fake smile and standing around socializing with people twice his age, but this was a fact that didn't seem to matter to his father, who had told him that he was to be dressed sharply with his hair tamed by six o'clock on the dot.

reluctantly, he had obliged, dressing up in a white button-down and black dress pants before carefully styling his hair, so he would look every bit the respectable, young, future-businessman that his father expected him to be.

the ride to the party was filled with yes dad's and nodding in agreement to being on his best behavior as his father reminded him for the millionth time that he had a reputation to uphold, which meant his children were to be the epitome of perfect to ensure his spotless reputation stayed just that.

rafe had expected the dreadfully awful music and the awkward introductions and small talk with people he couldn't care less about. he expected the lack of booze strong enough to get him drunk enough that he could at least semi-enjoy the boring social affairs. he even expected the lingering glances from middle-aged women who had been dragged to this lifeless event by their equally lifeless husbands. what he hadn't expected, however, was you.

when he first laid his eyes on you, he had found himself wondering how he'd ever missed you in the first place. you were laughing courteously at a joke that a balding man, probably in his fifties or sixties, had appeared very proud of. your smile seemed to light up the entire room, breathing life into the party that had otherwise been soulless and unpleasant.

your poise and grace was evident simply by the way you carried yourself, smiling sincerely at everyone that met your eye while also keeping yourself engaged in the surely dull conversation you were having with the older man.

he found himself oddly drawn to you, captivated by not just your beauty but the way you seemed to shift the atmosphere in the room simply by existing. he knew he needed to speak to you, and more than that, he needed to have you. it took just feasting his eyes upon you for him to begin to crave the feel of your delicate skin under his rough hands and your earnest and warm eyes on his own.

before he could stop himself, his legs were moving in long, purposeful strides toward you, uncaring that interrupting your conversation would be considered rude and unbecoming.

"can i steal away a moment with the lady?" the words fell from his lips smoothly, a confident smile tugging at his lips as he observed your eyes shift to him and widen ever-so-slightly in surprise. his eyes trailed down the expanse of your neck, lingering on your pearls for a moment as he imagined littering your perfect skin with bright red hickies that would have you blushing and whining about what your poor parents would think if they saw.

"we were actually in the middle-" you began to object, but the man across from you swiftly cut you off.

"of course, mr. cameron," he nodded, recognizing rafe as ward's son. no one wanted to mess with the wealthiest and most powerful man in kildare, and that usually extended to his children.

a frown tugged at your lips as you watched the man scurry off to find someone else to bother. of course, you knew rafe cameron. he had quite the reputation around the island as a party boy and total manwhore of epic proportions. you didn't typically listen to the rumors about people that danced from ear to ear of gossipy teenagers and housewives with no better ways to spend their time alike, but you had made an exception for him.

"problem, sweetheart?" he taunted, his gentlemanly attitude dropped and replaced with his usual arrogant and entitled demeanor—the very same one that usually had women falling at his feet.

you simply raised an eyebrow at him, clearly less than amused at his behavior. "it's rude to interrupt people's private conversations," you ignored the pet named he'd condescendingly assigned you.

he crossed his arms, leaning back against the doorway as he studied you for a moment. he had noticed it when he first approached—that slight pull downward on your lips the moment you laid eyes on him—and it was ever-present now that you two were engaged in a conversation of your own. "you don't like me, do you?" he pondered aloud. "now, i wonder why that would be," he grinned wolfishly, not deterred by the fact one bit.

"well, you haven't exactly wooed me with your charm thus far," you retorted, crossing your own arms.

"hm," he hummed, his head lifting and falling subtly in a small nod as his eyes darted to the way your crossed arms in defiance pushed your tits together—a fact you didn't seem to realize as you stared him down. The look you were giving him wasn't exactly a glare, but you weren't regarding him with the warmth and adoration he had hoped to see when he swooped in to save you either. this, of course, only made him want you more.

"so, was there something you needed, or do you just enjoy asserting your dominance over people?" you asked, pulling his gaze back up to your face, specifically the way your glossed lips pulled into a tight line. he wondered what you tasted like, what every part of you tasted like.

"little bit of both," he shrugged, grinning widely with a wry amusement that had you fighting back an eyeroll—you already knew your mother would throw a fit if she saw your defensive stance and annoyance written on your face, especially since your conduct was directed at a cameron of all people. "lighten up, princess," he laughed. "i just wanted to talk."

"you talk a lot for someone who rarely says anything of substance," your snippy response tumbled from your lips quicker than you could contain it, making you straighten up as you tried to retain some semblance of poise.

"ouch, you wound me," rafe quips, clutching his chest in faux hurt. "you always throw insults at people you don't even know?"

"no, just you," you shrugged, looking around to make sure your parents weren't around to see how their well-mannered daughter seemed to lose her sense in the presence of kildare's golden boy.

"oh, so i'm special then?" he smiled, pleased by your response, which only seemed to fuel his already-texas-sized ego.

"sure, keep telling yourself that," you replied dryly, rolling your eyes at his smug grin.

he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the fact that he was getting under your skin, which only made your irritation grow. "i'm rafe cameron," he held out his hand.

you eyed his hand, not moving to shake it. you slowly trailed your gaze to his face, quirking an eyebrow. "i'm aware," you informed him, your tone cool and unimpressed, much less interested.

"well," he prompted, dropping his hand after a beat and shoving it into his pocket. "don't i get a name?"

"you haven't earned it," you countered quickly, a smile tugging at your lips now that you had an upper hand—the advantage of mystery.

"now, that's not fair," he rolled his eyes. he couldn't quite decide whether this little game was irritating him or amusing him, which only seemed to add to the thrill.

"whoever said life was fair, mr. cameron?" his name rolled off your tongue in a way that had him twitching in his pants. being called mr. cameron was only ever a formality—one that at times made him feel superior, and at others, he was indifferent to—but the way you said it seemed to change it's meaning entirely. "now if you'll excuse me," you said, your eye catching a friend from across the room.

she was giving you a wide-eyed look, her gaze darting. between you and the infamous kook king rafe cameron. you internally groaned, knowing you'd be bombarded by questions the moment you stepped within earshot.

as you turned to leave, rafe's hand immediately shot out and grabbed your bicep, stopping you. "i'm not done talking to you," he said, his tone lowering with a vaguely threatening timbre.

"yes, you are," you said firmly, pulling your arm from his grasp. if you were fazed by his slight demeanor shift, you didnt show it. "goodbye, rafe," you bid farewell before continuing your journey to your friend, who immediately grabbed your arm and pulled you close, giggling something into your ear when you reached her.

rafe watched your every move like a hawk throughout the rest of the night, waiting for the opportunity to get you alone somewhere, but, to his dismay, it never came.

at the end of the party, his father ushered him out to the car, talking his ear off about potential clients and business partners, but he had completely tuned him out, his mind instead filled with nothing but you. you may have been playing hard to get now, but he was destined to make you his, and rafe cameron always got what he wanted.

[darlingsfandom]

Can you write threesome with Lenny Miller and Emmett.

The plot would be while the reader has a double life and knows that Lenny and Emmett are separated twins (she knows because she is a bioinformatics analyst, that's how she met Lenny, but outside at work she is with Emmett), but when they discover the reader's double life they decide to satisfy her more together Sorry for my bad English, It's not my first language

TW: threesome! fingering, nipple play, oral, cheating!

Lenny Miller x Reader x Emmett from A Quiet Place.

There’s an old saying that you only live once, but in your chase you’re living twice. It was hard to wrap your own mind around at times and yet you’ve done it for the last two years.

Emmett was your loving husband that you recently tied the knot with to conceal your second life. He was the complete opposite of your first husband who you loved dearly but sometimes left you bored because he was too wrapped up in his work which if it wasn’t for his work you wouldn’t have met him in the first place.

Lenny Miller, millionaire thanks to bio analytics that the government was using in a way that made your stomach turn into knots, but you kept your mouth shut to appease your husband. Lenny did spoil you so it was hard to complain. Lenny was well respected and all his employees loved him including you which is how over time you became Mrs. Lenny Miller.

You’ve been married to Lenny for over three years but recently your marriage has been a bit boring and when you came across some interesting information you found yourself starting to lead a double life. Thanks to Lenny’s system you found out that Lenny had a long lost twin that no one knew about besides Lenny, how you got access to that? Your husband might be smart but he’s not that careful at times and you took it upon yourself to research exactly who Emmett was. It was wrong to do this and you knew it but you also knew about Lenny’s little side piece again he’s smart, just not that careful.

When you first met Emmett you played the innocent card so well Emmett found himself falling for you right away. You fabricated a story that you were in the neighborhood for a new home since your husband broke your heart which wasn’t a complete lie but no one needed to know that. Emmett was captivated by you just the way you talked, smiled and talked with your hands and just how you looked at him with such soft eyes , how could you he not instantly fall for you? At first he thought he was going crazy after he met you because he was seeing you everywhere but you were actually there trying to observe him so you could get to know him better. Over time you actually started approaching Emmett when you’d run into him at places like the grocery store, a small thrift store and even at a local video store which Emmett found himself blushing for the first time in his life because of course the one time he decided to look in the adult section he would get caught and of all people by you! It wasn’t long before you found yourself dating Emmett while still having a ring on finger from Lenny.

Lenny never questioned your moves and where you were going. He trusted you but it also gave him more time with his side piece that the more you were with Emmett the more you were starting to give up the idea of being Mrs. Lenny Miller. Emmett didn’t hold you up to this idea that you had to look a certain way or act a certain way, it was nice to be relaxed. So as time went on you found yourself in love with Emmett and he felt the same way so when he asked you to marry him you said yes without a second thought.

Now after a year of being married to Emmett you realized that starting to live the double life was becoming too much. You kept up both lives until one day when you were out with Emmett. He surprised you by taking you out to a fancy dinner. He had been working hard on the farm and to be fair you enjoyed becoming the farmers wife. He did the work and you did the selling at the farmers market , a perfect match. You were excited to go out with him that night until you ran into Lenny.

Lenny had to do a double take at you because he felt like you were an illusion. You were supposed to be out of state on a business meeting which is what he believed but when you were sitting there with Emmett he excused himself from his own business meeting to approach you.

Lenny stood there for a moment questioning if it was really you until he heard you speak. He flared his nostrils and approached you with a look that could kill.

“And what exactly do you think you are doing?” Lenny placed his hand on your shoulder making you jump and Emmet stand up quickly.

“You got about two seconds to take your hands off my wife before I deck you… Lenny.” Emmet despised his brother which is why they haven’t spoke since they were eighteen.

“I do believe you’re confused Emmett, you have always wanted what was mine. She is my wife.” Lenny held up your hand to show off the ring on your finger but when Lenny took a closer look he realized that was not the ring he put on your finger. The ring on your finger was Emmett’s.

The brothers looked at each other with a look that would make anyone in their right mind run away which is what you should’ve done but you found yourself frozen in fear and bit of attraction growing between your legs. It was wrong but you didn’t care.

“I can explain!” You blurted out making them turn to look at you. “Just… not here.” You finally stood on shaky legs before walking out with the two of them hot on your ass. Lenny followed the two of you into Emmets truck.

“You left out glamours life to be a farmers wife?” Lenny rolled his eyes as you sat between the two of them.

No words could come out of your mouth until you finally calmed down to explain the whole thing to the both of them. Neither brother responded right away until you felt Emmett’s hand on your thigh and he looked sad before he cupped your cheek in his hand. He was bothered but the fact you chose him over Lenny in a way made him smile on the inside. Lenny slowly realized he couldn’t be mad because he had started the affair before you had even met Emmett.

“I do have an idea though.” You whispered making the twins look at you. “I’m technically married to the both of you, so why not make it a little fun?” Emmett raised his eyebrow while Lenny crossed his arms.

“What kind of fun?” Lenny asked.

“As you’ve said before Lenny, I’m full of pretty holes to be used… well there’s two of you and I have two holes….” You bit down on your bottom while placing your hands on each of their thighs to which Emmett grabbed your hand and leaned into breath into your ear heavily.

“Should’ve known you’d want something like this.” He licked the shell of your ear while Lenny moved your hand to his crotch and let you rub his cock through his pants. Lenny could never deny sex with you even with his twin about to join in.

“If we’re doing this, we’re not gonna fit comfortably in the truck.” Emmett spoke up while massaging your thigh.

“Take us home my love.” You kissed him softly which made a sting happen in Lenny’s heart when it shouldn’t have. Lenny sat quietly on the ride him while you rubbed his cock and Emmett’s at the same time.

When Emmett had the three of you back at the farm house Emmett helped you out carefully before giving your ass a smack when he had the chance. Lenny had every right to be jealous because he should have been the one to make you giggle like that but he also doesn’t have the right.

Lenny watched how you smiled when Emmett gave you a kiss and he can’t remember the last time you looked at him like that. To be fair it was mostly his fault but he won’t admit that. You looked over at Lenny and gave him those eyes that made him fall for you the first time around.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” You ran your hands over Emmett’s shirt before he gave you a nod and kissed you softly. Your lips moved in sync with his as his hands groped your ass. He moved his hands over your body before unzipping your dress. The fabric pooled around your feet leaving you in your bra and panties.

Oh how Lenny wanted to jump right in but he felt like he should just watch. You sat down with Emmett on the couch before looking at Lenny to come over and he did. Lenny sat right next to you. Emmett placed his hand on your boob before having you lean forward to unhook it and let it fall to the floor. Both men let out a moan as you sat there with a smile on your lips. Neither man cared at that moment, they both quickly wrapped their lips around each of your nipples. Your hands ran through both of their heads of hair while the eagerly sucked your nipples. Emmett moved his hands between your legs and spread them open to show off the wet spot on your panties. His fingers pulled your panties to the side before slipping a finger inside of you.

“Emmett!” You cried out as he bit your nipple gently. He pulled away to look at you while pumping his finger inside of you while Lenny continued to suck your nipple. Your hand ran over Lenny’s crotch and gave his cock a squeeze to which he responded by doing his best to unzip his pants to let his cock out and when it was out , your hand quickly wrapped around it. Emmett watched as you touched his brothers cock and he wanted the same thing. He pulled his finger out and licked it clean before he stood up in front of you, unzipped his pants and let his cock spring free. You sat forward and licked your lips before sucking the head of his cock. Lenny stood up next to his brother and shoved his pants down so now both men had their cocks in your face.

You pulled off Emmett’s cock to suck gently on Lenny’s while pumping Emmett’s cock.

“You’ve always been so good at sucking cock honey.” Lenny pulled your hair into a ponytail and held it tightly. Emmett got down on his knees in front of you as you sat on the couch, put your legs on his shoulders and buried his face between your legs. His tongue slowly lapped at your pussy which made you moan around Lenny’s cock in a way Lenny has never felt before.

Emmett’s beard brushed against your inner thighs as he ate you out like starved man. You were always so thankful that Emmett loved to give you oral, he was fantastic at it. Lenny was more selfish when it came to oral. You sucked harder on Lenny’s cock, gagging a little when he pushed your head further down. Emmett was devouring your pussy, his nose rubbing against your clit making you squirm until his fingers dug into your hips. Your body never felt like this before.

Lenny pulled you off his cock leaving a string of spit dangling from your lips as you gasped for air. Emmett was lapping his tongue faster making your moans echo off the wall. By the way your legs started to shake Emmett knew you were close and didn’t stop. He felt you squeeze your thighs around your head as you whined loudly, your fingers yanked on his hair as your orgasm ripped through you. Emmett licked up every drop of your juices as you came hard against his tongue. Lenny was a bit jealous because you’ve never came like that for him.

Emmett slowly pulled away licking his lips as your hips melted against the couch. The men looked at each other than at you before Emmett sat down next you, helped guide you onto his lap and lined his cock up with your pussy and helped you slide down on it. Lenny stood in front of you and pushed his cock inside of you as well. You’ve never felt this full ever! Both of them had big cocks! Lenny’s was longer but Emmett’s was thicker and both of them together had you rolling your eyes back as they took turns slowly trying fuck you.

Lenny leaned forward to kiss you and you actually let him. His tongue swirled in your mouth while Emmett’s hands played with your boobs, his fingers pulled on your nipples as they fucked your sore pussy harder. It was too much but it felt so good. Emmett thrusted harder up into you while Lenny slowed down feeling his orgasm building. Lenny pulled out slowly and pumped his cock watching his brothers cock fuck up into you.

With a loud groan Lenny came against your pussy making Emmett fuck his cum into you. A satisfied smile appeared on his face as he sat down next to you while Emmett fucked you so hard that you could hear his balls slapping against you. Another orgasm washed over you squeezing Emmett’s cock which made his orgasm approach. He came with a low moan in your ear as he came deep inside of you, holding you still on his cock so you could feel his hot cum fill you up so much it dripped a little bit down your inner thighs.

All three of you lay collapsed on the couch with you still on Emmett’s lap and his cock still buried in you. Lenny looked at you before wrapping his arm around your waist to also lay his head on your shoulder.

“You know, there’s no reason why I can’t stay married to the both of you.” You mumbled while having your head on Emmett’s shoulder.

Neither brother would admit it, but you weren’t wrong. They were just too stubborn for their own good but maybe, just maybe you’d be the reason they’d come back to their senses in the end.

[06sunnybunny06]

Is this fate?

Chapter 1

(Neuvillette)

Anyone who hears the word marriage will imagine a couple of lovers entering into an alliance with the help of a long-familiar sacred ritual. Only by the will of fate, only some are able to find true love among the dullness of everyday life. The most unpleasant thing can be a marriage of convenience, where benefit is more important than true feelings. This is a common thing among aristocrats.

You have always dreamed of finding true love, and not allowing yourself to become a profitable commodity in the hands of a stranger. Not everyone managed to win the lottery and find at least an adequate soul mate. Fontaine is considered a progressive country. Exquisitely dressed citizens with a rich pedigree can still be found on the streets. Many turn up their noses as if the purest gold flows in their veins, not a burgundy liquid. Your family is no exception.

Unfortunately for you, fate was decided a long time ago. A rich aristocrat had the honor to meet you this week, but your meeting never took place. Soon, a large investigation began against him, which revealed a fraudster. The court sentenced the poor man to a long term in a deep-sea prison.

It was like a miracle. You could have stayed free until one day a letter arrived at your estate. The neatly sealed blue envelope was already in your hands. The seal testified to the rather high origin of the owner of the letter. What was your surprise when you found out that the Chief Justice himself decided to write personally. Because your future husband is in prison. The engagement was soon broken off. It was a blow to your reputation. Even though your father was on edge, you didn't care.

On expensive paper, ink curled out the text. Mr. Neuvillette apologized for the inconvenience caused by the imprisonment of your future husband, but in return he was ready to take his place so that a young lady like you could create a future without a huge stain on her good name.

It was unexpected. That's putting it mildly. You were in complete shock. Knowing the reputation of the most fair judge, whose personality was shown only in a formal setting. He could even be considered insensitive. Watching the trial, you have been convinced many times that this stone face will not be able to tremble under the weight of the situation. And why would someone so busy enter into a marriage of convenience with an unknown girl? Your father will never refuse a large prize that fell right into his hands. You decided not to jump to conclusions and observe your future husband.

At your first meeting, a soft, friendly smile was waiting for you. Officially introducing himself, he outlined all the conditions of your future marriage. Over a cup of fragrant tea, you even chatted a little. In a gentlemanly way, Neuvillette has created all the conditions for your comfort, knowing how intimidating he can sometimes be in the eyes of people.

Good...If you had a choice, and you don't have one, you still wouldn't be able to refuse, knowing the pressure your family would put on you.

Life as Yudex's wife was no different from the past in his parents' house. In addition, there are much more outfits, jewelry, cosmetics and free time. You were surrounded by a lot of servants, as well as cute little creatures named melusines. They often looked at you with interest, asking you about many things that they did not understand. When you talked to them, it seemed to you that you had a lot of small children.

You and Neuvillette treated each other with respect, like spouses who have lived a long and interesting life. Your husband was often away from home, and that was fine with you. You lived without emotions towards this person. He did not demand love from you, but you tried to maintain the image of your spouse. I just had to appear in public sometimes so that people wouldn't find your absence strange.

Deep in my soul there was a feeling that wanted to break out. You've never felt his fiefdom, not even to your own parents, and you wanted to find him somewhere behind brick walls. Celestia may have heard your wish.

For a long time, out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the gaze of a rather handsome young man. This guy is one of the soldiers guarding the courtroom. He often greeted you with such a gentle smile, as if he saw a good friend. Sometimes he even had the opportunity to accompany you. That's when you met. You had a lot in common. To be honest, you've never had such a close relationship with anyone. Perhaps this is what they write about in romance novels. From that moment on, your meetings were filled with all kinds of dangers. It's scary to imagine what will happen when it turns out that Judex's wife has taken a lover. The scariest thing is to find out your husband's reaction, even though you are not that close. Perhaps he has more interesting things to worry about besides your infidelity.

Fleeting kisses turned into passionate, light touches into strong hugs. Each meeting was filled with words about eternal love. On one of those days, you were sitting under a tree. Your hand gently stroked his head, which fell into your lap. After listening to another story about your husband's indifference, although you repeatedly hinted to him about his love for another man, he offered to run away. You could start a new life away from the past, where no one would find you. The idea was wonderful. Despite your fear, you decided to take a chance. When it was time to go to bed, you took only the essentials. With the help of the maid's uniform, easily slipped past the guards. At the indicated place, you met, kissed quickly and rushed off on your way. This is how your new life could begin. How the hell were you wrong.

In the midst of the escape, during the pass, the first drops fell, drumming harder and harder on the destroyed buildings. A light rain turned into a heavy downpour. Fortunately, there was an abandoned house nearby. All the clothes were soaked through. You have lit a fireplace that may have been waiting in the wings since time immemorial. The weather just went crazy. As if the gods themselves were punishing you for sinful bonds. Despite this, you hugged each other while waiting for the storm to end. My eyes closed of their own accord in the warm embrace of a loved one.

After a while, the eyes opened in complete darkness. A strange unpleasant feeling woke you up. Water was able to penetrate through the leaky roof and extinguish the light source. The rain still hadn't stopped, but it wasn't raining that hard. Soft breathing could be heard nearby. He was still asleep. Heavy mechanical movements were heard outside, making you flinch. Lantern light filtered through the cracks of the old wooden walls. Human voices grew louder from the quiet ones as they approached. Your boyfriend woke up to loud noises himself. If only you had woken him up earlier. You would have been able to escape in a matter of minutes, but at that moment the door was flung open by a strong blow. The searchlights hit right in the eyes. While you were recovering, something like a robot appeared next to you for a moment, easily lifting your lover and pinning him against the wall. It was followed by a painful sigh. You could only watch in despair until you were grabbed by the arms and lifted to your feet. A woman in a soldier's uniform was anxiously examining you. You recognized Clorinde in her. One of Neuvillette entourage - "Thank the Archons, you are safe, lady. Let's go there. Mr. Neuvillette is going crazy about your disappearance."

When her eyes turned towards your boyfriend, they dimmed noticeably. - "Take him to the interrogation room right now. He will be tried soon."

You didn't even have time to come to your senses when he was chained up and dragged away, and you were taken away without hesitation, accompanied by several soldiers. After a while, you were already sitting in the guest house and waiting for your husband under the supervision of a guard outside the door. Everything you dreamed of before that day collapsed in an instant. It was a great plan. You could leave Fontaine today and go far, far away. Tears were ready to gush from his eyes. The color drained from face when a familiar voice was heard outside the door. The door opened, inviting a tall figure to enter. You weren't looking at him. I just couldn't do it, afraid of the same cold look that criminals receive in a courtroom.

"Everything I've done for you has been solely for the good. From getting rid of a worthless aristocrat to acquiring status for a better and more comfortable life. Still, I'm worried about your behavior lately. It turned out that you decided to run away, finding solace on the side. A soldier with no money, no status and no good plans for the future. The man who decided to encroach on the sacred, to take away mine. "

The last words seemed to come out of his mouth with great menace. There was silence in the room, but soon he continued. - "I heard him and I will hear him in the courtroom when I sentence him to life imprisonment at the bottom, where even the most dangerous criminals are afraid to go, and if they do, they die long and painfully. I'm waiting for your excuses."

You were afraid. Even your father wasn't as scary as Neuvillette calm tone when he told you what would happen to your lover. Nevertheless, the trembling voice was able to squeeze something out of you.

"I... I wrote it all in a farewell letter....If you found it.

- Oh, yes. A parting gift in the form of an apology on a piece of paper. But you don't seem to know that you and I are officially married, and if you run away from Fontaine, that will remain unchanged.

- You do realize that we are married only on paper, right? We... We don't know each other at all, and I don't think I feel anything like love for you. It was just an agreement between the two sides. I think you deserve more. You could just accuse me of cheating and move on....

After the barely audible words that you squeezed out of yourself out of fear, there was a long silence. You didn't even have time to notice how his figure loomed over you. A big hand in a leather glove grabbed your chin. Your faces were only a few centimeters apart. Had his pupils always been so pointed? Were there small scales on his delicate features?

"How dare you consider our marriage to be just a minor arrangement?" I chose you for a reason. This is a serious decision that I have been making for several hours. You have no right to betray me, let alone fall in love with someone. Breaking a marriage contract is the same as breaking the law, and breaking it is always punishable. It doesn't matter who or what performs it.

While he was looming over you. A clawed hand forcefully pulled the collar of the still wet dress aside, opening access to your neck. The body seemed to turn to stone. Tears welled up in my eyes. You have never seen the anger of your spouse, who courted you so sweetly. Previously, apart from his gentle smile, no other emotions touched you.

There was a flicker of interest in his eyes as the pupils lowered to the open neckline of the dress. The head slowly sank even lower. When you saw who actually appeared in front of you. You didn't even want to know what this creature could do. Her body instinctively twitched at the touch of her nose on her delicate skin. One sharp movement of a clawed paw is enough and the head will fly off his shoulders, but now Neville is not in the mood to kill. The smell of your body beckoned to him. Lips parted, releasing warm breath. His mouth slowly moved closer to your neck. A sharp sigh escaped from your throat when you felt the Neuvillette begin to suck and bite the areas on your skin. His hands held you firmly in one place. The long serpentine tongue slid, leaving wet trails. A red blush has graced your face. To your shame, it turned you on. You bit your tongue, trying not to make unnecessary sounds.

Fortunately, the shameful action has stopped. You thought it was over until a low growl snapped you out of your thoughts. Fear enveloped the body again.

- You smell weird. These clothes smelled of him.

He pulled away abruptly. Annoyance showed on his face.

- We need to get rid of these rags. Please forgive me....

- what? Neuvillette, stop!

He yanked off the top of the black dress, exposing your white bra. It was followed by a long skirt. You kicked with all your might, like a cat. Pieces of cloth flew across the floor. A wave of shame swept over you again, leaving you in your underwear and in the fetal position. Your hands were trying to cover all the exposed parts of your body that they could.

After scanning your body, he sighed with satisfaction.

"It's all right now. Unfortunately, we don't have much time left. You need new clothes. It was not proper for the wife of the Chief Justice to walk naked down the street. But for now....

A heavy jacket has fallen on your shoulders. While you were recovering, Neuvillette looked out the door, giving orders to two soldiers. After that, he returned to the room.

- Everything is fine now. A maid will arrive shortly with new clothes. You'll have to wait a bit. Unfortunately, I will have to leave. The trial will begin soon. You have nothing else to worry about. No one will dare to lay a finger on you.

A quick light kiss touched your forehead. Neuvillette started to leave and then you shouted sharply in his direction.

- Who are you?

A tall figure stopped near the door. A long-recognized face turned to you with the same friendly smile.

"I am Neuvillette, your husband, and also the chief justice of Fontaine. Unfortunately, I won't be lucky enough to escort you home, but we'll meet tonight. I'm asking you not to do anything stupid. From now on, you won't be alone anymore. I promise you that."

The blue eyes looked into yours again. Then he left, slamming the door behind him. You fell on the sofa in despair, wrapping your robe more tightly around you. You definitely can't escape now. A soft cry filled the small room.

[animehideout]

LOVE IS THE MOST TWISTED CURSE OF THEM ALL

PART 3

Gojo Satoru X Fem! Reader

Check Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 4

a/n: sorry for taking too long to post part 3, it's because I post on Wattpad as well {for anyone's who's interested in Straykids x Reader ff check my Wattpad @narae_99 }

Warnings: Mature language.

♪Song suggestions♪ The weeknd - Trust Issues.

Words count: 1.4K

• Time skip •

You sat on the couch in the school's common room, watching everyone chatting together. Yuji didn't leave your side, he was talking nonstop, it made you really happy cuz someone is actually interested in having a conversation with you, since you spent you whole life outcasted and rejected, feeling like an outsider even within your own family. No one found interest in you, since you weren't a sorcerer.

Gojo watched as you were having fun talking with now; your students. And of course he didn't like that, he was still pissed by the idea that from now on you'd be his colleague. Even though you didn't do anything wrong, and you equally hated the idea of your arranged marriage, he saw you as a burden thay he is forced to carry. All what was on his mind, from the moment you took your vows, is how to make your life a living hell.

Breaking your curse wouldn't come out of charges. He's been thinking of ways to humiliate you and make you feel small in front of everyone. It's like a punishment of you being his wife.

He slowly approached Mei Mei, making sure to inactivate his infinity, giving her the green light to grasp the chance she's always dreamt of and allow her to touch him even though he never let her or Utahime to physically get near him.

“So Mei Mei–why don't you move here and start teaching in Jujutsu High, it would be ravishing to see you everyday!” he said loud enough to get your attention and he did.

“Oh Gojo, I know I've always been pleasing to your eyes!”

“Yes indeed..”

She chuckled as she extended her hand, her long fingers running on his chest,

“I would definitely give it a thought..Satoru” she called him by his first time for the first time, in a flirtatious way.

Mei Mei is a smart woman, Gojo never bothered to look at her before, let alone flirt with her, so she figured out his real intentions right away, so she played along, to offend you, she never liked you anyway.

Mei Mei always craved Gojo's attention, and she's enjoying it now even if it's fake. Her hands couldn't leave his body as she flirted back... touching his broad shoulders, tracing his jawline with her fingers with as sly smirk.

She leaned closer to him, her lips touching his ear, as she whispered, “Want me to offend the shit out of her..Gojo?”

“Do your thing, and I'll deposit that money in your account” he simply answered.

They made sure you were watching. You swallowed hard, observing them as they continued their playful banter, it wasn't jealousy but you felt a mix or irritation and discomfort. Whether he liked it or not, he's your husband legally and in front of everyone, so the least he could do is respect you, at least while others are watching as well, and he can hate you as much as he wanted in private.

“Y/n-sensei!! are you okay?” asked Yuji in repeat,

but you didn't hear him untill he shook your shoulder gently. You were too focused on Gojo and Mei Mei.

“Hm? sorry?” you said waking up from your trance.

“Everything is fine sensei??”

“y-yeah I'm good–just um... I'll be right back”

You excused yourself from Yuji, Megumi and Maki to pour yourself a cup of water.

Both Gojo and Mei Mei started laughing loudly as you walked past them. The atmosphere was too insulting and unpleasant to stay still, especially that your students and even the principal Yaga noticed how your husband ignored you and shamelessly flirted with another woman, you felt embarrassed.

You walked to the school's kitchen to get a cup of water that might cool you down, away from them. You enjoyed the silence, but soon it was interrupted by Mei Mei,

“Oh you're here y/n”

You maintained your composure in front of her, taking a sip from your water.

“Yeah,..was kinda thirsty”

“Come on all of the boys left, we're left alone, all girlies!! come join us, this party was for you after all” she exclaimed, as she started dragging you with her.

“Nah I'm good, it's kinda late so I might just go home”

“Hah? go home to who? to an empty house? Gojo told me that both of you don't live in the same house!”

It's like getting slapped hard across the face! such thing should have been kept private, It's none of anyone's business to know if you're sleeping under the same roof as Gojo.

“He proved himself to be a jerk” you thought to yourself. You didn't know what to say, Gojo has already spilt everything out.

“LETS GO” she yelled, pulling you back to the common room with her. All the girls were there, Utahime , Nobara and Maki.

“our bride arrived, where have been hiding?” said Utahime.

You sat on the couch trying to find a comfortable position, your heart pounding with anxiety.

Out of nowhere Utahime spoke, “So y/n! tell us, is Gojo a good fuck??”

Your eyes widened in shock, first of all you don't have an answer for that since you obviously didn't have sex, second of all, it was too inappropriate to ask such thing.

You stuttered, as you were about to answer, “I- Um..”

But Mei Mei cut you off, swirling a strand of her hair between her fingers as she spoke, “Oh I'm sure he was, me and Gojo used to hook up a lot, and let me tell me, he's so damn good” she lied.

Air got caught up in your throat, clenching your fists, struggling to keep on a normal face not letting their provocations take the best of you.

“come on y/n don't be shy tell us!!” said Utahime insisting,

you forced a smile as you spoke politely , “excuse me but I don't think my personal life is up for discussion”

“but wh-”

“Dont push too hard Mei Mei, she's not comfortable to answer this, move on already geez” said Maki clearly pissed.

“Chill Maki, we just wanted to get to know each other on a personal level” said Utahime chuckling.

Maki rolled her eyes in annoyance, you wanted to say a lot of things or just punch them across the face, but it was useless, no matter how hard you try to defend yourself, thanks to Gojo everyone already discovered that your marriage is just on paper.

“Excuse me ladies, as you know tomorrow is my first day teaching so it's better if I rest at home” you said walking out,

“tch how boring” sighed Mei Mei.

Maki followed you “Sensei!! Y/n sensei!!”

“hm Maki?”

“Please ignore them, they feed on provoking others, so please don't focus too much on what they say” she reassured.

You smiled, softly patting her shoulder, “Thank you Maki, but don't worry I'm fine..really!”

•Time skip•

There he was standing in the school's garden, breathing the fresh air, enjoying the cold night breeze.

You were already frustrated and seeing him made it ten times worse. You rushed his way,

“The hell was that Satoru?” you yelled,

He turned around looking at you raising his eyebrow, he wasn't wearing his blindfold, “Ugh! you again, what do you want?”

“Don't you have any manners? casually speaking of private stuff, telling everyone that we don't live together and that our marriage is fake? Don't you know that some things should remain unspoken of, especially in front of strangers?”

He bursted into laugher, mockingly, “Oh the only stranger here is you y/n! now don't tell me you're jealous? Oh is it because I didn't fuck the shit out of that pussy of yours?”

“Hah, jealous?? you don't mean anything to me Satoru, and I'm not dying to have sex with you” you yelled back.

“Then why are you mad about it?”

“Stop spilling private shit out, especially if it includes me or my dignity” you threatened pointing your index finger at him.

He took a step closer to you, his giant frame sending shivers down your spine, eyes conveying threat and anger,

“A talentless, weak human like you can't tell me what to do, besides I didn't know you had any dignity. You're not-”

*SLAP*

You slapped him with all might and power in you. “FUCK YOU SATORU”.

He took it too far, humiliating you both with words and actions is something you would never accept. Even if you don't have any cursed techniques, you're still a human, who deserves to be treated with love and respect.

He looked at you in disbelief, eyes widening, the sting of the slap reverberating through his senses. A moment of stunned silence followed, you glared at him one last time, then you left him standing there.

“I'll make you pay for this, y/n..” he promised.

Taglist 🫶🏻:

@hermitkerm @smolbeanzzz @eolivy @sanriosatoru @kiki17483 @khaleesihavilliard @ryumurin @bookswillfindyouaway @numblytemporary

[eevees-hobbies]

Call me 'Kyojuro': Female Reader X Kyojuro Rengoku Smut

Author note:  I didn’t expect my first story to be so tame!  I wanted to make something dirty featuring my anime husband, but I think because this is my first, I held back. Raunchy, steamy, inappropriate shit will definitely be written in the future!

Content warning: smut, oral performed on female character, touching of breasts, mentions of bodily fluids (nothing extreme), you also are very forward in your relationship with Rengoku. I don’t really align with self-inserts that make you shy or soft-spoken (depends on the character)…it’s just not my thing!

Word count: 3.2k

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

Rengoku was by no means a prude, but his Hashira lifestyle—which consisted of demon-slaying and training on constant repeat—left little time for relationships.

But it was no surprise that he quickly became infatuated with you when you were introduced as the newest Hashira. Yes, you were cute, no, you were beautiful, but that wasn’t the only characteristic that drew him in. It was also the way you were so committed to improving your skills. You were clearly ambitious – working tirelessly day and night to be a better you than the version you were yesterday. 

Rengoku recalled waking up early not long after you began your Hashira tenure, excited to start his usual training regime before the morning sun rose above the mountains and before the other Hashira started to stir. But when he approached the training grounds, he saw you practicing your movements with a sword in hand. 

You were mouthing commands to yourself, “breathe, follow through, expect a parry.” 

Rengoku watched you, quickly forgetting that he had his own training to begin. He was too engrossed by your commitment and passion to interrupt.

“I’m not one for an audience, ya know,” you shoot him a half-smile. You had noticed his presence but allowed the Flame Hashira to study you. As the newest Hashira, you hadn’t spoken up much. You simply observed during Hashira meetings, but you always found yourself interested in whatever Rengoku added to the conversation. Whenever he spoke up, his voice boomed over the others—and they listened. His points always centered on justice and protecting those who couldn’t defend themselves.

You were smitten on day one.

Rengoku’s body stiffened by your call out. He didn’t want you to feel like he was studying you, even if that was exactly what he was doing.

“Sorry! I was simply admiring your technique. And I must admit, I was surprised to find someone out here so early.”

You tilted your head to the side, the sweat that collected on your forehead from the exertion making its way down your cheek. “But you’re out here?”

Rengoku smiled softly as he acknowledged your quick rebuttal.

“Well, there’s more than enough space for us to both get our training in. Care to join me? I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested in seeing what the Flame Hashira is capable of.” You palm the hilt of your blade nervously, hoping he would accept your offer not only because you were putting yourself out there but also because you wanted him to say yes.

Rengoku shoots you with a dazzling smile that makes your heart stutter.

“Let us get started then.”

In a matter of minutes, you and Kyojuro stared at each other from a respectful distance away, waiting for the other to make the first move—not wanting to be caught off guard, you strike first.

The Flame Hashira dodges you easily, but he doesn’t parry or clip you with his blunted weapon. In fact, many of his movements are a response to your attacks with no attempt at fighting back. You quickly grow frustrated. You had earned your place in the Hashira ranks. You slayed just as many demons as him and had plenty of the scars and trauma to prove it.

More of the same continues, with you stringing together elaborate attacks and him dodging.

You feel the vein in your temple begin to switch, your anger reaching a boiling point. “Demons go out of their way to target women, and you dare hold back against me?!” Your body goes slack as you turn your back towards him, sending a physical sign that you were concluding the training session.

Kyojuro flinches at your sudden emotional outburst, and because he hadn’t realized he was on the defensive with you—he certainly never held back with Shinobu or Mitsuri. For some reason, a reason deeper than he could comprehend at that moment, he didn’t want to hurt you.

“Wait!” Kyojuro takes a step towards you. “You are right to be upset with me, but I assure you that I mean no disrespect.”

You barely turn your head to look over your shoulder, “then fight me, Rengoku! Give me the chance to kick your ass, and if you pull that shit again, I’ll never speak to you again.”

Kyojuro contemplates your words and gives a curt nod. He gets into a battle pose and shoots a dazzling smile at you, “Very well! But please, call me Kyojuro.”

Your heart skips a beat. The sun still hasn’t begun to rise but his smile provides you all the light and warmth you could ever need. 

“S-sure thing, Kyojuro.”

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

It didn’t take long until you and Kyojuro had a consistent training ritual together. With the Flam Hashira’s approval of your presence and his bragging about your abilities, the other Hashira began to accept you, too. Your nights, previously spent in your room in alone, were now occupied around a large dinner table where you all shared your meals.

“So, I’m just going to come out and say it as it wouldn’t be very flashy of me to keep my mouth shut,” Uzui begins as he sets his cup down.

Your eyes narrow at him as he turns his hulking body to face you. You like Uzui, but everyone at the dinner table quiets and stares at you—you don’t appreciate the extra attention.

“You and Rengoku are a thing, right?” You shoot him a horrified look as he brings his two pointer fingers together and touches them tip-to-tip.

Sanemi chortles at the ridiculous gesture.

You look at Rengoku, hoping that he’ll interject, but he’s quiet, observing you as a shade of pink quickly rises from his neck to his cheeks. 

Sensing the awkwardness between you and Kyojuro, Shinobu interjects—to your relief.

“Leave them be. Mitsuri, tell us more about that salmon dish you spoke about earlier.”

With that, Mitsuri launches into an animated story about the new restaurant she had discovered. The other Hashira quickly lose interest in you and divert their attention to the Love Hashira. You look up at Kyojuro, fully prepared to see him also engrossed in Mitsuri’s story. Instead, he’s looking down at his half-eaten meal with a pensive look on his face.

Your heart aches as you watch him eventually rise, excuse himself from the table, and exit the dining room. 

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you follow. And before you know it, you’re pushing his bedroom door open and closing it quietly behind you.

Kyojuro’s bright eyes look at you in surprise. “Oh, did I leave something at the table?”

You chew your bottom lip in frustration, your heart pounds in your ears, and anxiety begins to make your fingers twitch. You were uncharacteristically nervous being in front of him in his room. But you couldn’t help it because, in a matter of months, your feelings for Kyojuro had blossomed into intense feelings of wanting more from your friendship.

Kyojuro, sensing your inability to speak, rises slowly and approaches you. He takes your hands into his and stares into your own bright eyes. 

“Please….say something. I know you were uncomfortable at dinner when Tengen spoke about our…friendship.” He paused slightly over the word friendship, letting it hang between you both as if it were heavy and wrong.

Fuck it

In a moment of bravery, you tilt your head up and press your lips against Kyojuro’s. You feel his muscles tense slightly at your unexpected advancement, but he doesn’t push you away, and for that, you are beyond thankful.

It isn’t long before he moves his hands up to cup your face, his lips, initially unmoving, now pressing firmly against your own. His longing for you is conveyed as his soft lips dance slowly with yours, his fingers gently stroking the soft skin of your cheek in small circles.

A moan escapes your lips. He’s such a fucking gentleman, you think to yourself. 

When his lips part, you take the opportunity to slide your tongue in his mouth. Your eagerness makes Kyojuro’s head swirl, and his pants tighten in the crotch area. The room fills with the lewd sounds of your wet tongues mingling together as both of your arousal grows. There’s no space between your bodies as you press against one another, his solid chest pressing against your soft breasts and crotches grinding into one another, desperately trying to feel the friction despite the clothes you’re wearing.

You eventually break away from the kiss, both of your lidded eyes staring hungrily at each other and chests heaving rapidly.

Kyojuro speaks first, “Wow. Have you always felt this way about me?” 

You roll your eyes in amusement at the innocent inflection in his tone. Your hands roam over his chest, “what do you think?”

Kyojuro beams at you, “then it is official—we are a couple!”

And true to his word, Kyojuro began to court you. You assumed little would change, and in a way, you were right. You and Kyojuro still trained with each other and accompanied each other on missions, but there were other instances where your relationship was different. If Rengoku went on a mission without you, he’d bring something back that caught his eye and reminded him of you. Soon, you had to purchase a small jewelry box to hold all the beautiful adornments he had gifted you. When it was time for meals—Kyojuro would offer you his lunch and swoon when you ate from his utensils.

“Eat up, my love! We must maintain the fire in your soul; the best way to do that is with a quality meal!”

You appreciated the sentiment—even if your meals were far more flavorful than his. Your heart warmed at how much and how deeply he cared for you.

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

During a rare training break, Kyojuro perched under a large tree and watched you spar with Sanemi. He felt uneasy as Sanemi fought you aggressively and without holding himself back. You had requested him to give his all as you did with every Hashira, but it still made Kyojuro nervous about the possibility of you getting hurt.

“When were you planning on thanking me?”

Kyojuro looked up to find his colleague Tengen gloating—an arrogant smirk gracing his features. Kyojuro gave him a quizzical look, unsure how to respond to a question he didn’t quite understand.

Tengen let an exasperated—and characteristically dramatic—sigh escape his lips. He crouched and rested a hand on Kyojuro’s shoulder, “Tell me, my fiery friend. Have you both consummated the relationship?”

Kyojuro’s body stiffened at the question. He felt it to be intrusive—even by Tengen’s standards.

Sensing his friend's tight-lipped demeanor and tense body language, Tengen lowered his voice. 

"Fair. I never took you as one to kiss and tell. But let me leave you with sage advice as someone with his fair share of experience with women.”

Kyojuro looked at his friend expectantly. He wanted to seem uninterested, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious. You both had shared many nights cuddling and kissing had become increasingly more intense. It was becoming more challenging for Kyojuro to control himself as his hands explored your clothed body, his cock growing—almost painfully—in his pants. Some nights when you were away from each other, he’d imagine himself gingerly taking your clothes off, drinking in your body and curves like a man desperate for a taste. He’d imagine settling himself between your plush thighs and pushing his throbbing cock into your warm and welcoming mess of a cunt. On those lonely nights, Kyojuro would touch himself to the thought of you, his large hand sliding into his pants and stroking himself. His eyes would roll back as he tugged at himself with pitiful desperation at the idea of having you.

But while Kyojuro was satisfied with making love with you in the way that he knew how, he wasn’t sure if you’d be fully satisfied. So he looked at his friend, ready to accept his perverse advice.

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

Your muscles ached as you dragged yourself to Kyojuro’s room. You had almost fallen asleep during your bath—Sanemi’s training session with you was intense, and you had quite a bit of bruises to show for it. You were looking forward to attaching your body to Kyo’s and drifting off, but you soon forgot about any semblance of sleep as you entered the room.

Kyojuro was sifting his hands through his barely dry hair as he had also recently returned from his bath. His bare, muscular chest still had a few droplets of water that would more than likely evaporate soon. A towel loosely hung around his waist, and a noticeable bulge strained against the white fabric in a way that made you blush. Kyojuro looked over his shoulder at you and beamed. “My love, you are right on time. There is something I wanted to speak to you about!”

Your eyes stay glued to the bulge now pointing, no, beckoning aggressively at you. Please let there be a sudden gust—give me a peak.

Kyojuro continues, “I want you to be satisfied with me, so I received advice today on how to—.” You interrupt Kyojuro with a sharp glance, your own intense eyes meeting his. 

“Kyo, no offense, but we haven't even done anything yet. You don’t really need to worry about that right now, and honestly, I’m a bit scared to ask who you received advice from.”

Kyojuro approaches you, his previously tense shoulders now relaxed at the sound of your shorthand version of his name. He cups your cheeks and looks at you with soft eyes, “You’re right. I was getting ahead of myself.”

You smile sweetly up at him; one of your fingers finds the hem of his towel and pulls. Kyojuro gasps as he’s now fully unclothed in front of you. His cock bobs up and down at the lack of fabric holding it back. You purr and grasp him in your palm, feeling the taut muscle throb excitedly.

Kyojuro licks his lips as his half-lidded eyes look down at you—his breath noticeably harsher and quicker as you stroke him. “You sure?”

You snort—not very ladylike—but a response to an obvious question nonetheless. 

Kyojuro peels your clothes off your freshly cleaned body. He groans as his eyes take in all of your curves—they’re somehow even better than what he imagined. He raises a hand to palm your breast in his hand, his fingers gently pinching and tugging at your hardening nipple. Your mouths find each other again, with an intense hunger, each of your tongues battling for dominance.

Kyojuro pulls away, “I must taste you.”

You give him a quick nod, wondering what he means as you both were doing just that, weren’t you? But you quickly understand what he meant when he picks you up, his strong arms lifting you on his shoulders.

You let out a slight squeal as you feel the floor beneath your feet disappear, and your thighs become Kyo’s new earmuffs. He takes a long sniff of your cunt, breathing in your distinct smell, his mouth watering with excitement. He licks your sensitive folds, a shiver shooting up and down your spine, as the Flame Hashira suckles at your southern lips. 

“Mmm, she’s so pretty.” Slurp  “so wet” Slurp “so tasty.” Slurp

Soon, the room fills with the sounds of his suckling and your gasps. You want to roll your hips against his mouth desperately, but the position he has you in has you pressed against the wall, and any attempt to buck your hips may result in your ass hitting the floor.

Kyojuro slides his tongue past your folds, his mouth now making out with your clit. Your juices and Kyojuro’s saliva drip down his chin. He moans into your pussy, the taste of you making him stroke his pulsing cock with one hand. Your thighs begin to squeeze around his head as you feel warmth spread in your lower stomach. “Baby, I’m going to cum,” your eyes roll back as you release your sweetness down his throat. Kyojuro shudders at how good you taste and how good he makes you feel. 

“Put me down,” you order as you briefly regain your senses. Kyojuro obliges, eyeing you hungrily, his hand still stroking himself with his precum, lubricating the now sensitive skin.

“I want you to ruin me,” you say as you stumble to the middle of the room where the bed is. As you turn to face him, Kyojuro is already on you; he eagerly pushes you down and spreads your thighs. He grunts at the sign of your messy and hungry pussy, the sign of his worshipping tongue still evident on your moist folds. 

You gasp as he’s pushing the fat head of his cock inside of you. 

“Mmmm, she’s so hungry and eager, love.” Kyojuro pushes his full girth inside of you, letting out a groan and collapsing on top of you.

You moan and wrap your legs around his toned waist as he rolls his hips slowly into you. Kyojuro is sensual and careful with his movements despite you being able to tell that it’s taking quite a bit of self-control for him not to pound you mercilessly. As he dives into you, your senses are suddenly overwhelmed with the sound of your pussy squelching as his cock fills you up, the smell of your sex, and the sight of Kyojuro’s pleasure-filled expression gracing his features. He leans down and takes your nipple into his mouth, biting gently at your sensitive skin. It stings in a way that makes your pussy clench around his cock.

Kyojuro groans, “Please forgive me. You feel too good.”

You drag your hands through his hair as you buck your hips against his, trying to match his movements. You want every inch of him to touch every inch of you.

“Don’t be gentle, Kyo. I can handle it.”

Kyojuro shudders at your invitation to ruin you. His pace quickens, now hard, and loud slapping sounds fill every corner of the room, his heavy and full balls smacking against your ass. You desperately want to open up and close yourself all at once—everything you’re feeling intense and overstimulating. 

Kyojuro is being vocal with his approval of you and how you’re taking him in, “O-oh my god, you’re pussy feels like it was m-made for me…!” He grips your thighs with his strong hands, the tips of his fingers turning white as he digs his nails into your flesh. In a quick movement, he pushes your legs further back until he’s squatting on top of you, your thighs pressed against his as he pounds his cock into your needy cunt.

You—no longer caring about how loud you are—let out deep guttural moans. You desperately reach for something to grab, and your hands find Kyojuro’s hair. You grip his thick mane at his scalp and pull. You’re not sure if the position is impeding your breathing or if it’s your moans not allowing you time to suck in adequate air; regardless, you feel as though you might pass out. 

“You take my dick so well,” Kyojuro compliments as his hand finds your clit and rubs it in circular motions with his thumb.

Drool drips out of the corners of your mouth as Kyojuro’s thrusts only get harder and more animalistic.

Kyojuro grunts, feeling himself getting close as the intense fire in his abdomen burns more and more, “stick out your tongue, my flame!”

Your tongue lolls out your mouth for him, and your eyes roll back as he sucks your tongue into his mouth; you moan in adoration as he sucks and bites on your tongue, wanting to taste every bit of you. 

Your pussy clenches and grasps at his cock as you release against him. The death grip of your cunt begging, pleading, and welcoming every drop of inevitable seed that he can give you.

Kyojuro groans loudly as he erupts, shooting hot seed inside of you, “A-ah, here it comes, ohhhhh.”

Kyojuro rests his forehead against your shoulder, the intense wave of your and his pleasure rolling through you both. You plant a kiss against his lips.

“Was that…good?” He mumbles against you.

“So good,” you whisper as you grip him tightly. You can feel his heart beating quickly against your chest. As his love oozes out of you and onto your sheets, you both drift off, gripping one another.

[bosbas]

Chapter 7: something gave you the nerve to touch my hand

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: colin bridgerton x enemy!fem!reader WC: 3.4k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, a small part of the dialogue is in Spanish, idiots in love-ish moments (maybe idiots in non-hate?)

Summary: It took precisely two days in England for you to utterly despise Colin Bridgerton. It took him approximately twelve hours after that to hate you right back. But he doesn't care that you're the only person in the ton who doesn't like him. You're set to marry someone else anyway, right?

June 1, 1816 – A few whispers have been floating around about Lord Arthur Barlow’s whereabouts following his escapade with Miss Barrington at the Bridgerton ball, but this author must sadly say that she has no credible information on the subject. The Duke has likely paid his staff handsomely to avoid any news reaching the curious ears of the ton, much to our disappointment. While propriety suggests that his wedding plans to Miss Barrington should be in full swing, Lord Barlow is not particularly known for his propriety, and therefore we cannot assume anything.

Among other Montclair-related news, two of the Count’s children arrived in London yesterday: Lord Philippe Montclair IV and Lady Isabelle de la Torre, accompanied by their respective spouses and children. Is this unexpected gathering somehow linked to Lady Y/N's recent entanglement in scandal, or is it merely a coincidental family reunion?

You wrung your hands nervously in your carriage bound for Hyde Park, not quite able to sit still. Beside you sat Leonor, Philippe's wife, while your sisters, sitting opposite from you, observed your anxious demeanor with growing impatience. Isabelle, in particular, seemed annoyed by your restless gestures, her irritation palpable in the air.

“Y/N, for heaven's sake, it’s not like you’ve been compromised in any way!” said Isabelle, exasperated. “You’ll find someone else, and the Duke’s betrayal will be but a distant memory.”

It was easy for her to say; after all, her own search for a husband had been nothing short of a fairy tale. Unlike the rest of your siblings, Isabelle had had a love match from the beginning, and it only made it easier that Carlos, her now-husband, had strong ties to the royal family. Though her love story had been one for the ages, the fact that it had happened so easily was making her quite unsympathetic to your loss of a Duke you weren’t even properly interested in. 

“I might as well have been! Lady Whistledown is still mentioning my involvement in the scandal, and your presence isn’t helping.” You thanked the universe that your mother was on another carriage with Louis, Carlos, and Philippe, and hadn’t heard you being rude toward your sister.

"And why should we care about the musings of this Lady Whistledown?" retorted Isabelle with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“These English people treat that gossip column like gospel,” said Charlotte, crinkling her nose in disdain. “Though I dare say, Y/N, your predicament isn't as dire as you're painting it," she added, casting you a knowing glance.

"You two can afford to be cavalier about it, being safely married," you sighed, feeling defeated, and turned your gaze back out the window.

As your carriage rolled into the park, Leonor leaned in, placing her hand over yours. “No te preocupes, cariño,” she whispered reassuringly, so only you could hear (Don’t worry, sweetheart). “En todo caso, te vienes a España con tu hermano y conmigo” (In any case, you can come to Spain with your brother and me).

You smiled at her, resigned, but grateful for her offer. As you surveyed the bustling crowd outside, predominantly comprised of eligible men, the allure of Spain beckoned. It would certainly have better weather than London. And at least there was no Lady Whistledown in Salamanca. Though with the seemingly endless sources the woman had, you wouldn’t doubt her abilities to follow you there, too.

Stepping down from your carriage and walking toward the crowd of people in the park, you made eye contact with one of the gentlemen who had called on you yesterday. Though his poem had nearly put you to sleep, you smiled politely anyway. Perhaps he would be the first to talk to you today and ask for a turn about the park, and you would be able to finally relax in the knowledge that at least one person was still interested in you.

Though you hadn’t seen or heard from Lord Barlow since the Bridgerton ball, he still lingered in your mind. He ended up being just like any other man, you thought, annoyed. You hadn’t necessarily expected him to be the picture of attentiveness and love, especially not when you had only known each other a little over a month, but it was still disappointing to see how it had all turned out. 

"Lady Montclair," a voice interjected, drawing your attention to your right. Startled, you turned to see Colin Bridgerton, sporting an uncharacteristically earnest smile.

“Mr. Bridgerton?” you inquired. 

You had thought your dance two nights prior had been a one-time event, a small courtesy on his part, for Eloise, so you didn’t look a complete fool upon your re-entry to society. So why was he here now? Had he come here to resume tormenting you? You weren’t quite sure you had the energy for that today, already feeling the familiar flutter of nerves as you thought about how many men you would have to impress and the intense scrutiny you would face from the rest of the ton.

“Would you care for a promenade?” his voice, a gentle invitation, broke through your thoughts.

“A prom- What?” you said lowly, careful that no one would hear you. “You already danced with me once, and it was more than enough,” you assured him. 

Colin was fighting an internal battle. He was torn between still being absolutely enchanted by you after one dance, and the larger part of him that was annoyed that you apparently didn’t want to speak with him today. Yet, true to form, Colin’s more combative side won out.  

“Well, I don’t particularly see gentlemen lining up to speak with you today, so I rather think you might need some more help,” he shot back. 

You felt your face flush as you gasped in offense. “That is so patronizing. I’ve barely been here three seconds! I hardly think that amount of time is indicative of whether any suitors would like to speak with me today.”

It was true; Colin had rushed to greet you moments after you had stepped down from your carriage. But aside from the fact that he was embarrassed by his eagerness and trying to cover it up, he was not about to let up, not against you. 

“Do you think, for once in your life, you could engage with me without throwing a fit?” he asked you, anger seeping into his words. 

You were speechless, your eyes wide as you stared at him. Your instinct would have been to get mad at him, but unfortunately, he was right. You were struggling to let yourself be vulnerable with Colin, never mind how good of a time you had had dancing with him. But you were too stubborn to accept his offer to walk with him. You simply stared at him, your eyes swimming with uncertainty, and silently willed him to keep pushing you to accept his help. It was the only way you would allow yourself to do it, and you were relieved when he held out his arm for you to take.

“Come along,” he said, rolling his eyes. “For both our sakes, we should just walk to avoid a scene.”

“Very well, then,” you relented, slipping your hand into the crook of his elbow. You were momentarily distracted by the feeling of his arm beneath your touch. It lit a fire inside of you that you weren’t familiar with, and you suddenly found yourself out of breath. 

“My sister can chaperone,” he suggested, gently guiding you toward where his family was situated. 

You could only nod dumbly in response, the flutters in your lower abdomen only growing stronger when he placed his hand over yours. Vaguely registering Daphne and Simon waving at you, you smiled and greeted them, grateful to have something else to focus on that wasn't Mr. Bridgerton's very well-sculpted arms. 

As you began to stroll, the Bassets a few paces behind you, you felt that your voice was stable enough to begin a conversation. “So, Mr. Bridgerton, indulge my curiosity and tell me more about your travels. Have you ever been lost at sea?”

Colin smiled at you, unable to hold back his fondness for you once again, and his breath was stolen from his lips as he made eye contact with you. You looked back eagerly, staring straight into him, and he was momentarily speechless. But you blinked, indicating that you were still awaiting a response, and he realized he had forgotten himself once again in your presence, an alarmingly increasing trend. 

After clearing his throat, Colin answered, “A few times, yes. Most unfortunate was the time we became lost in the twilight hours when it was freezing out, but the stars proved an exceptionally useful tool in helping us find our way.”

“The stars?” you asked, curious. Could it be that you and Colin had yet another thing in common? It was hard to parse who he had been with you the past few days with the man you had a rivalry with practically from the moment you arrived in England. Who was the real Colin?

“Yes, indeed,” affirmed Colin, his voice revealing a hint of excitement. “They’re actually quite a useful tool. Regardless of our whereabouts, we look at the same constellations, albeit from differing vantage points. For instance, if you look up at the sky any of these nights, and you see three stars close together arranged in a line, that’s-”

“Orion’s belt,” you finished for him, your voice soft. Then, seeing his amused, and admittedly curious, smile, you explained, “My governess used to take me outside at night, even in the winter, so I could look at the stars. I know a fair few constellations, and I always like to know which ones are visible to me.”

Colin shook his head in wonder. The universe was a cruel thing, to make you so perfectly suited to him and make you hate him more than you hated, apparently, anyone or anything else. But it wasn’t like he liked you any better, he reasoned.

“I’d wager you’d be a wonderful navigator, then,” he said. “I’m certain you’d never get lost in treacherous waters.” He had to physically bite his tongue to keep from suggesting that you go with him on his next trip around the world. 

You hummed softly in response. It never quite felt like you had a grip on where you were going. Usually, you just felt like you were groping around in the dark, desperately trying to find the right way to go. 

The promenade stretched on longer than anticipated, with both of you engaging in pleasant conversation throughout, and more than a few stolen glances. It was a shock, really, when Daphne cleared her throat politely behind you and Colin. You suddenly realized that you and Colin had been walking together for longer than was typically appropriate. 

“It might be time for Lady Montclair to promenade with someone else,” she suggested gently, a sympathetic smile on her face as she looked at Colin's crestfallen face. Turning away from you, she leaned over and whispered something unintelligible to Simon as the pair walked away back toward the rest of the Bridgertons, allowing you and Colin a few moments of privacy.

“Thank you,” you smiled at him, finding yourself slightly disappointed that your time together was ending. “I’m not quite sure I would have needed your saving again, but I appreciate it nonetheless.”

Suddenly, you noticed a piece of lint on the lapel of Colin’s jacket. You reached over, almost instinctively, and picked it off. Your fingers barely grazed his chest, and his words caught in his throat as he saw your hand reach toward his chest in slow motion. 

The two of you stood still, staring at each other for what felt like an eternity, one of your hands still extended toward him. Realizing your actions necessitated an explanation, you hurriedly brought your hand back to your side again and averted your gaze, avoiding eye contact with Colin.

“Lint,” you explained awkwardly. “On your coat.”

Oh, how could you have done something so brash? And in such a public setting, too, you scolded yourself. 

“I-Th-Well, I-Thank you, Lady Montclair,” Colin stuttered out, his brain short-circuiting from your intimate gesture. But you were already walking away, fists clenched at your sides as he saw you walking back to your family. 

Once more, you were intercepted by what could only be described as a horde of men vying for your favor. But, just like two nights prior, all Colin could feel was a pleasant warmth spreading through him as he watched you walk away, your laughter ringing like music in his ears. 

He knew what that was like now. To have you genuinely laugh at something he said. And it was different from how you were with these men. Even different from how you had been with the Duke. His heart warmed when he realized he had something of you that no one else did, and he wanted to bottle up your laugh and keep it in his breast pocket, forever a reminder of you near his heart.

A short distance away, Carlos observed with amusement as Colin stood there, seemingly transfixed by your departure. Standing beside him was Leonor, who had also been privy to the entire spectacle. The two often found themselves together during family outings, enjoying speaking in Spanish for a change. 

“La ama,” Carlos said to Leonor, his tone tinged with amusement at Colin's evident infatuation (He loves her).

Suppressing a chuckle, Leonor discreetly cleared her throat. “Y cuanto tiempo crees que será hasta que se de cuenta?” she quipped in response (And how long do you think it'll be until he realizes?).

---

In the late afternoon, you found yourself seated by the pianoforte, the pleasant notes of your scales filling the room. Across from you, your mother quietly engrossed herself in a book, while Isabelle diligently worked on her needlepoint. Suddenly, the tranquil atmosphere of your sitting room was disrupted as your butler made an unexpected entrance. 

“Lady Montclair, a visitor,” he said politely, bowing slightly. 

Your fingers stopped playing and you looked toward your mother, who had a questioning look on her face. 

“I hadn’t been expecting anyone. And at this hour? Is everything alright?” she asked the butler. 

His face flushed slightly. “My apologies, I meant Lady Y/N Montclair,” he corrected himself. “It’s the Duke.”

But he barely had time to announce your visitor before Lord Barlow strode into your sitting room, hair disheveled and bags under his eyes. He looked positively ghastly, and you wouldn’t have doubted it if he told you he hadn’t slept in a week. 

He was panting and slightly sweaty, clearly having rushed over to your home for some unknown reason, when he took off his hat and crouched next to the pianoforte bench.

“Forgive me,” he addressed the other women in the room. Then, turning back to you, he roughly grasped your hand, placing a wet kiss on the back of it. You slightly cringed in disgust, not particularly wanting this man anywhere near you.

“Y/N, my darling, I am so terribly sorry for what happened at the Bridgerton ball. It was unforgivable. Except that you must forgive me!” he pleaded, voice full of desperation.

You were utterly confused, and more than a little angry. Who did this man think he was, barging into your home at this hour and demanding forgiveness? You shared a look with your mother, who looked equally as scandalized. 

“Lord Bar-” you started, but before you could finish, he interrupted you, grasping your hand even tighter.

“No! Not Lord Barlow. Arthur. Your Arthur. It’s me; I’m here. What happened with Miss Barrington was a foolish mistake, and it will never happen again. Marry me, Y/N. Marry me and make me the happiest man in all of Mayfair. In all of England, even. Please,” he begged. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Leonor leaving the room quietly, and your stomach churned uncomfortably at the idea of having to face this man on your own. You breathed deeply, calming yourself with the thought that your mother remained in the room before you addressed Lord Barlow. 

“I don’t understand,” you said, shaking your head. “What of Miss Barrington? She will be ruined if you do not marry her.”

He scoffed, throwing his head back and shaking his head in annoyance. “What of her? She is not as important to me as you are,” he said lowly. “I do not have with her what I have with you. I need you, Y/N. Please marry me.”

Letting the anger that had been slowly bubbling inside you take over, you snatched your hand out of his grip and stood up, towering over him. “Are you quite finished? You are completely unbelievable. I will not marry you, your Grace, and it is egregious that you would even suggest it. Do you truly have so little respect for Miss Barlow that you would leave her, ruined, as you married someone else? Do you truly think so lowly of me that you thought I would say yes?”

“Barlow, take your leave,” came a commanding voice from the doorway before the Duke could respond to you. 

With a surge of relief, you caught sight of Louis and Philippe standing firm with Leonor at their side, their expressions firm and determined, while she was looking anxiously between you and Lord Barlow. 

But the Duke was relentless, his desperation palpable as he pleaded his case, his words brimming with urgency. He stood up from where he had been kneeling and turned to face your brothers. "You don’t understand. I must marry your sister. I must!"

“I believe my brother asked you to take your leave, your Grace,” said Philippe, voice cold and cutting. “Louis, if you could be so kind as to escort Lord Barlow out.”  

Louis wasted no time, roughly grabbing Barlow’s arm and dragging him away from you as the man protested profusely. But your brother wasn’t going to let him hurt you again. It was bad enough that he had already done it once, but Louis would rather come to blows right now in your home than let the Duke stand in your presence for another second.

As Louis ushered Lord Barlow out of your sitting room, Philippe placed a protective hand in front of Leonor and pulled her behind him. Ensuring his wife’s safety, he turned to you, a concerned expression on his face.

“Y/N, are you alright?”

But you didn’t have time to answer, your father storming into the room with fury in his eyes.

“Was that Barlow I saw in the hall? Can someone give me an explanation?" he demanded, his gaze fixed on your stricken expression.

Your voice trembled as you confessed, still reeling from the shock of the encounter. "He asked me to marry him," you admitted, the words hanging heavily in the air. 

“She said no, of course. And put him in his place,” your mother added, eyes wide and fixed on the doorway still. It seemed that Lord Barlow’s unexpected appearance had been an unwelcome shock for her, too.

Your father placed his hands on his hips, staring at the two of you in disbelief. “Well done,” he finally conceded after a few moments of silence. 

You nodded meekly in response, not quite feeling anything right at this minute. 

“He is not worthy of you, Y/N. A title and fortune are important, of course, but so is honor. And he clearly has none,” said your father, disgust clear in his voice.

You’d heard this speech a million times, but this time the words rang loudly in your ears. A title and fortune are important, his words echoed in your mind. It was what your father always said, but this time you couldn’t help thinking: Colin Bridgerton, whom you had developed an inexplicable fondness for, possessed neither title nor fortune.

But as quickly as the doubt arose, you cast it aside. You reminded yourself firmly that Colin was not the sort of man a Montclair could marry. The reality was stark, and you refused to entertain the notion that such a match could ever be possible. You weren’t even sure that you liked the man, why were you thinking of marrying him?

—

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@sydneygal3107

[shan-yee]

𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚗 + « 𝚜𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚙𝚎𝚎𝚔 »

𖦹𝘙𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵

𖦹𝘍𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𖦹𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 = Sexual allusions, misogyny, arranged marriage, occ Bi-han ?

𖦹𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 = 1081

𖦹𝘈/𝘕 = i'm sorry for the wait anon- but here you go !! I had practically no info for Dark!Bi-han so I tried something, hope you like it.

𖦹𝘈/𝘕 2 = English is not my first language, please let me know if you see any mistakes ! Enjoy ✨

——— 𝐒 𝗨 𝗠 𝗠 𝗔 𝗥 𝗬 • • •

𝐈 :: 𝘽𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝐈𝐈 :: 𝙈𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚

« ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ »

╰─► 𝐈 ･ ｡ﾟ☆ 𝘽𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜

⇰ Dark!Bi-han is actually not that different from Bi-han in some aspects, well almost, just like Bi-han, Dark!Bi-han would surely marry to obtain power or in other words, lands, men and a possible heir although he is not a fan of thinking that one day he will no longer be able to lead the Lin Kuei.

⇰ I don't really see him falling in love, he would be far too obsessed with the desire to lead his clan to victory, those feelings are useless for him. His role as leader pushes him to put aside his humanity and, he never complained about it.

⇰ He doesn't care what his wife looks like, as long as she is faithful and fertile, for the future, he has nothing to complain about. He is neither looking for a sidekick nor a partner.

⇰ He is not affectionate or kind, he wants respect and submission from everyone, he will also want his wife to stay in her place and listen to him wisely. But, to be sure not to be betrayed, he will still be gentle at certain times, making sure to have influence over his betrothed.

⇰ He will not want to have sex before marriage, in fact, he has never really been interested in sex or anything related to it, too busy with his responsibilities.

⇰ Dark!Bi-han is also quite old school, wanting a good little woman who stays in his place and knows how to take care of their house and him even though he doesn't really need it.

⇰ He believes that he is old enough to take care of himself but he will never say no to a massage or a good dinner.

➽─────❥ Fear was the only emotion that had guided her actions for several days now, her fingers were trembling constantly and she could feel cold sweat running down her spine. She had the impression that everything she did was being closely observed and judged by a force that she was unable to describe, except for coldness, sometimes.

Everything had happened very fast, « too fast » she would have said if anyone had asked for her opinion.

Several men had arrived and requested to see her father, he didn’t make himself wait and the young woman had never seen him so terrified in her entire life. And yet, he had seen many things in his life...

A few hours later she learned that she was now engaged, sold, to the leader of the Lin Kuei, a group of ninja, or rather assassins whose name she had frequently heard.

She had not even been able to see her future husband, having been sent directly to her apartments after the announcement of their arrival. Great.

╰─► 𝐈 ･ ｡ﾟ☆ 𝙈𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚

⇰ Firstly i have some things to say about the wedding ceremony. I think there are two scenarios, the first, Dark!Bi-han wanted a big wedding to show the extent of his wealth and everything he managed to acquire without the help of people. Although the people invited were not relatives and only important people, chancellors, kings of foreign countries and other clans, I can assure that some people ended up freezing at the end of the ceremony.

⇰ Second scenario, a simple and traditional wedding, simple in the guests and location but he will not hesitate once again to show off his riches and you will find only good quality, whether in the clothes, food and others. There will only be the very close family of his wife and some of his men, and the ceremony will finish quickly, without speeches or other dispensable things.

⇰ during the ceremony he will not let any emotions show, a bit like usual. He will also not wish to honor the famous tradition of « you may kiss the bride ». But I can say that his lips are cold and slightly cracked, he is not the type to really take care of himself —except for his hair which is very precious to him— having been naturally born with an advantageous physique —he knows it— i don't think that he would have been the type to really take care of himself if he hadn't been spoiled by mother nature anyway.

⇰ I can see him coming home in the evening and being delighted to see that his perfect housewife had prepared a magnificent meal for him. He will sit at the table with her and listen to her talk about her day in silence, responding with a simple nod or word.

⇰ A few years later when everything is stable he will agree to start talking about inherited potential. He doesn't particularly dream of being a dad, in fact he never thought about it until now.

⇰ In the bedroom Dark!Bi-han doesn't really think about his partner's pleasure, he is dominant and will never let himself be dominated by anyone, especially not a woman.

⇰ Once or twice he will tie his wife's hands with his ice, preventing her from touching him —he will do it because she tried to touche him without his permission before—.

⇰ Temperature play ! Dark!Bi-han is cold, his whole body, but particularly his hands and his tongue. He will have fun running it over his wife's stomach and chest, looking for reactions here and there.

⇰ His hands will hold the young woman's hips and in the process he will let frost spread on his partner's thighs and hips, don't worry it won't stay !

➽─────❥ His cold hands wandered over the young woman's flesh, he felt her skin roll and quiver under his frozen palm and fingers. A slight moan escaped [Y/N], not yet used to the touches of her, usually, distant husband.

She then felt Dark!Bi-han's cold and slightly damaged lips, her stomach contracted under the sensation as her toes retracted. The black haired man chuckled discreetly, moving closer to her lower abdomen and soon towards her pubis.

The young woman spreads her thighs, without really thinking about it, her body reacted on its own to her husband's kiss, which seemed to satisfy him. He finally reached her pubis and his fingers grabbed the edges of her underwear to pull it down and throw it on the floor.

Grabbing her thighs, Dark!Bi-han placed them on his shoulders to immerse his head between them. He wasn't the type to take care of his partner but she was a good wife and she deserved a reward from time to time.

[anonymousewrites]

Logos and Pathos Valentine's Day Special

TOS! Spock x Reader

Valentine's Day Special 2025

            (Y/N) and Spock walked through the market of Celia, looking at all the colorful clothing, the smell of spices in the air, and the shouts of sellers. The sun shone overhead, and (Y/N) smiled happily. With their arm looped through Spock’s, they were overjoyed to be back on their home planet with their family and their love. It was perfect. (Y/N) even got a chance to change out of their uniform into traditional Celian garments, which were a long, loose white outfit with a shawl that fluttered in the wind. Spock had changed, too, though he wore simpler robes that were closer to Vulcan clothing. Still, it was a nice, relaxing day to have with their husband as a married couple.

            “What should we start with? A drink, food, a museum?” said (Y/N).

            “Perhaps a museum and then lunch afterwards?” said Spock.

            “Good idea,” said (Y/N). “How about a history museum? I think you’d like those.”

            “I am interested in your planet’s history. There is much that mirrors Vulcan, though you took a different direction with your future,” said Spock.

            “It’s funny how people find different solutions for the same problems,” said (Y/N). They smiled at him. “But at least we’re all doing fine now. That’s what matters.”

            “And you know I respect your planet’s culture as well as my own, even if it is different,” said Spock. “I appreciate different cultures as they add to our ability to find solutions to every issue from unique perspectives.”

            “Spock, you are the last person I would think would disrespect my culture, even if people don’t understand that Vulcans, who control their emotions, and Celians, who have empathy, can get along perfectly well,” said (Y/N). They squeezed his arm. “But you’re sweet for reasserting it.”

            Spock inclined his head in acknowledgement. “I simply wish for you to know I respect you, T’hy’la.”

            “You’re the most respectful man I know, Spock,” said (Y/N). “Thank you.”

            “Though I must admit, even though I appreciate your empathic abilities as it allows you insights for your work, when you become…efficient, it is quite impressive,” said Spock.

            Now that was high praise from Spock, and (Y/N) grinned. “And I really like when you communicate your thoughts in a way everyone, not just the most intelligent, can understand. You’re smart, but you know how to talk to people well.”

            “I’ve been told I’m cold and awkward,” said Spock.

            (Y/N) waved their free hand. “Maybe to some, but not to me. People just have to know you to read you. Friends will do that.”

            “You are more than a friend,” said Spock.

            (Y/N) winked and smiled. “Don’t you think that’s why I can read you so well? I paid attention because I really like you.”

            Spock smiled slightly. That warmed his heart more than he could say.

l

            “Those were relics from before empathy became widespread in Celia,” rambled (Y/N) as they led Spock through the museum. “Even then, we liked bronze-like metals and gold, but those aren’t exactly what our materials are. Similar qualities and color, though.”

            “Hand-crafted items seem to feature in the modern-day, too,” said Spock.

            (Y/N) nodded. “We have industrialized, of course, but we still love hand-making things we use a lot. Often, older generations teach us, so that way many of our belongings are from family and friends. It reminds and affirms us of our connections to others.”

            “The sense of community on Celia is quite important,” said Spock. “It’s admirable how you strive to learn from the past.”

            “It’s the only way forward,” agreed (Y/N). “Do Vulcans act similarly?”

            Spock considered as they continued walking. “We keep detailed records of all our discoveries, our observations, our histories. We always want our information to remain close to us so we can understand where we’ve come from.”

            “Two sides of the same coin,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            “As the humans say, yes,” said Spock.

            The couple arrived in a hall of portraits, and (Y/N) smiled. They led Spock to one in a golden frame. It was a woman with long, golden-auburn hair. She smiled in a ray of sunshine, eyes bright and gold. A loose white dress—Grecian, as humans would describe—hung from her. She looked powerful, yes, but more importantly kind.

            “This is Andromeda,” said (Y/N). “She was the first Celian with empathic abilities. She led us to a peaceful future.”

            “She reminds me of you,” said Spock. He looked at (Y/N). “You were awarded the Crown of Radiance for displaying her values.”

            “I just try to help people,” said (Y/N).

            “And that is what makes you valuable as an officer, friend, spouse, and person,” said Spock.

            (Y/N) looked at him with so much emotion that Spock didn’t need the marriage bond to see their love for him. He thought the world of (Y/N). They had grown up with expectations and assumptions due to their looks and their abilities, but Spock only ever saw who they were as a person. He let them decide who they were in the world and respected it.

            “I’m so luck to be married to you,” said (Y/N), gazing at Spock. “I love you, Spock.”

            Spock smiled ever-so-slightly. “I love you, too, T’hy’la.”

Taglist:

@a-ofzest

@grippleback-galaxy

@genderfluid-anime-goth

@groovy-lady

@im-making-an-effort

@unending-screaming

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@jaguarthecat

[moirindeclermont]

Yesterday, I left you with a bit of a cliffhanger...

But it's all because tonight is a big "polin first time we didn't see", and some might remember a poll I did some days ago asking for Pen's specific favourite fantasy and the majority of answers were mirror and people (love you all exhibitionist people) so, what's about this party Pen wants to go? Let's find out!!

In the morning, they talk about Pen's desire to go to a club—the type of club designed for a very specific purpose. "There was an entry in your journal about watching a couple doing it behind special mirrors, and you noticed how watching them reminded you of the type of intimacy you were looking for."

Colin does remember that night. This young couple behind the screens was extremely hot—both of them—but what separated them from all the others was their connection.

"And I'd like to do the same. Just me and you, knowing people are watching..." Colin clocked that fantasy early in their marriage, always teasing it. He doesn't have a problem about people watching them - as long as it's only watching. "Are you sure?" he wants to be extra secure for her sake.

She looks at him and nods. "I'll see if I can secure an invite. But the moment you're uncomfortable, we're out, " he says, and she agrees.

They don't talk about this anymore until Colin comes back one evening. "We have an invite, Pen. In two days, if you want to." Her eyes dilate, and Colin can tell she is equally excited and nervous about it.

Before going in, he explained to her what to expect: "It's like a normal ball, except you may see people being more explicit. They may ask you to dance or more than that, but they are extremely respectful. If you say no, they won't bother you at all."

"I've rented the mirror room for the entire evening so that we can dance and relax, and once we are ready, if we still want to do this, we can enter and do what we want. You won't see a thing from inside besides the mirrors. Outside, people can see you, but they can't interact. We will be in a bubble. Also, we can stop at any time if you feel uncomfortable."

Pen is nervous when they enter the house, but she relaxes quite a bit when they start to dance. Yes, some people are already half naked, and the sides of the room are full of chaise lounges where people are already enjoying themselves. "Being a wallflower here would be so much more interesting," Pen says, and Colin laughs with her as they dance closer and become more touchy. As predicted, some already proposed both, but they politely refused.

By their third dance, there is an undercurrent of arousal going through them as their hands travel along their bodies. They exchange a brief kiss that does nothing to quench their thirst for each other. "Let's go?"

Pen gulps but agrees. Colin takes her hand and guides her to the room. For a moment, she can see from the outside; several people are already there, watching them curiously.

In the room, Pen can't hear anyone. The outside is gone; all she can see around are mirrors, reflecting them both. The desire returns like a wave. She is very accustomed to mirrors and doesn't feel self-conscious about that. Knowing people outside are watching just adds fire to her arousal.

Colin is observing her, and she is suddenly overwhelmed with love for this man who is leaving her free enough to explore her desires. She decides to lean into her playful side.

"Come here, husband," she says, sitting on the bed towering in the room, right in the centre. Pen opens her legs. " You have a job to do."

Colin goes on his knees and is unsurprised to find her glistening with desire. "My wanton wife is enjoying all those people watching her... isn't she?" he says as he starts a slow movement on her core, touching her pearl briefly before giving her just the tip of his finger. She nods at his words.

"Why don't you show those amazing tits?" he asks, playful.

She plays with her dress until she can divest herself quickly. Paris's dresses are on another level, as she can take them out without assistance. A moment later, Colin is helping her get out of her skirt, and she is fully nude on the bed; wherever she looks, she can see herself and Colin slowly teasing her open. "Colin, I need you," she moans, and Colin chuckles before stepping up and undressing himself.

"Come here," he teases her, "I want them to watch you, knowing they can never have you," and she is now on the edge of the bed, in full view, as Colin slowly enters her. She feels hot and aroused and desired and beautiful as Colin slowly starts to move. "You can't come until you say you loved being watched," he says, and she whines, knowing he will tease her until she complies. In truth, it doesn't take much until she obeys him.

Something is driving her crazy, and when Colin speeds up, she looks at the mirrors and just lets it go. Colin somehow manages to thrust into her through her release and knows her enough to know this is only the first one. Then, he flips her on the bed so she is on her hands and knees, and the dance starts again. She sobs at the feeling of another release coming, "I can imagine them going crazy over you," and every word is melting into desire.

When she comes again, she is almost screaming. "Yes, exactly like that. Make them feel how good you are at taking me," as Colin goes and goes and she can't even think. Colin turns her around again, kissinng her deeply, before whispering "I'm so close Pen," and then it is just instict, keeping him inside her as he finish.

They stay in the room a while before going out, re-dressed. The place owner offers them to stay with him and his wife for the night, but they refuse (afterwards, Colin tells her they are the couple he witnessed months before). Pen is just exhausted, and they go back home.

In the carriage, Colin notices Pen is crying. "Something wrong, love?" but she shakes her head.

"I just think that what we shared was powerful... and that most people don't have what we have. It makes me feel lucky, I guess. And grateful to have you," and he can understand very well. He dries his own tear with his hand and kisses her slowly. "It's the same for me," he answers, taking her on his lap until they return home.

uuuh I'm a bit nervous posting this one, but I absolutely love that they are sharing from a place of love and connection and I wish I were in the audience, and there is no shame in between them, I Hope you'll like it too (and if you have more firsts you want me to tell about it, my requests are open)

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Feeling you

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: I don't know where this came from, but I just needed to write it, as I simply couldn't get it out of my mind these two days. I probably won't be posting much for the next weeks. Holidays are coming and they are always stressful.

Warnings: Fluff, SMUT, 18+ , virgin Sihtric x experienced reader, hints of abuse in past

Word Count: 4,4 K

Part 2, Part 3

Tags: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @hb8301 @zillahvathek @alexagirlie @gemini-mama @verenahx @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf

If you want to be added to the tag list - write to me.

"I thought we had an agreement," you hissed through gritted teeth, your voice low, your fingers clutching Eanflaed's sleeve and refusing to release her. "I don't do that anymore."

"I understand, I understand," her response came quick and hushed. "I just thought you might consider making an exception. It's Uhtred..."

"I don't care who it is," you interrupted her.

"Let me finish," Eanflaed rolled her eyes and took a step closer to you, clasping both your hands in hers. "Just take a look. There's a young, handsome boy with Uhtred and Finan. They're sitting together at the table."

You turned your head reluctantly. There, in the far corner of the room, sat Uhtred and Finan. They were known to be good clients—generous and respectful towards the girls. But this time, they weren't alone. A young warrior was seated with them, unmistakably a Dane, with a Mjöllnir pendant hanging from his neck.

"Fine, I see him. But I'm not interested," you maintained your resolve.

"He's still a virgin," Eanflaed whispered into your ear with a chuckle, her voice barely audible. "Uhtred just promised me thirty shillings for the best girl in the house to spend the night with the lad. Can you believe it? Thirty shillings! It's a fortune. I know you could put that money to good use. I'd do it myself, but I'm too old for him. Besides, you," you rolled your eyes at your friend, but she seemed oblivious to your reaction, "you're still the best in this establishment. Just think about it." Eanflaed chuckled as she gently freed her sleeve from your grasp, picked up the brimming ale mugs you had just poured, and continued on her way, her hips swaying seductively as she served the drinks to the men at the tables.

You shook your head as you returned to cleaning the mugs. You were not a whore anymore, you reminded yourself. Not anymore. But thirty shillings? It truly was a small fortune. You owed three months' worth of rent for your room, and the old landlady had already threatened to evict you. The choice between having a roof over your head and having a meal was always a difficult one. Eanflaed was already paying you more than you would earn in any other alehouse just for serving drinks. She was your friend, but you couldn't ask any more of her. She had three little mouths to feed, and her husband had passed away last year after being kicked by a horse.

You turned your head ever so slightly to steal a glance at them from the corner of your eye. There was no denying it; he was incredibly handsome. Your gaze fixed on his impeccably defined, strong jawline, complemented by a straight nose and high cheekbones. A scar adorned his right cheek, and another traced its way across his forehead on the same side, but they only seemed to enhance his appeal, adding a touch of rugged masculinity to his youthful features.

You didn't want to stare, but something about his appearance had captivated you, drawing your gaze irresistibly. He didn't seem to speak much, you observed. He appeared somewhat lost or perhaps nervous, constantly shifting in his seat. His right hand clenched the ale mug with unnecessary force, while the other fumbled with his armor, tugging at its neckline as if it were too tight. It was clear even from a distance that he was very young; Eanflaed was right to call him a boy. But his well-built physique was hard to overlook, his sleeveless leather armor revealing muscular upper arms. His broad shoulders were equally conspicuous, even though he seemed to hunch over himself, as if trying to conceal his true stature.

Suddenly, the young Dane turned his head, and despite your best efforts to avert your gaze as quickly as possible, your eyes met for a brief moment. Two deep pools, sparkling with a blend of alertness and warmth, framed by long, dark lashes, met your gaze in surprise. Even in that fleeting moment, you couldn't help but notice a hint of insecurity and sadness mingled with youthful innocence in his eyes, sending a shiver down your spine.

You silently cursed under your breath. Thirty shillings, and the boy looked so sweet and endearingly anxious. You saw Eanflaed gliding back to the counter with a cheeky, satisfied smile on her lips.

"I'll take care of it," you heard yourself saying, surprised by the sound of your own voice.

"I've already informed Uhtred that you'll be available as soon as the last guests have departed," she purred, her satisfaction evident.

"You did what? How did you know?" Your surprise was impossible to conceal.

"I know you too well, darling, and I know you need that money. Look at him; he's such a sweetheart, and he belongs to Uhtred. There's nothing to fear. Besides, if you hadn't agreed, I would have sent someone else. Ealthwin will take over the counter, so you can go get ready."

Your hands trembled, and your heart raced in your chest, its beats echoing numbly in your ears, as you unstrapped your apron and placed it on the counter. Then you made your way to the back chambers, where Eanflaed had already prepared a bath. You shivered as you sank into the warm water, steam enveloping you in a white cloud. This all felt too familiar, as if the last time had been just yesterday, not two years ago. You closed your eyes, trying to relax.

"What's this?" you asked in bewilderment as you opened your eyes and saw a new dress carefully laid over the chair by the bath.

"It's one of mine. I don't wear it anymore," you heard Eanflaed's voice from behind. "I want you to have it; it's quite lovely."

"I want you to enjoy yourself," Eanflaed whispered in your ear as she helped you fasten the laces. "You haven't been yourself since then. I think it's time for you to move past it. Uhtred warned me that the boy has had a rough time recently. Be gentle."

You furrowed your brow as you watched Eanflaed leave the room. With a deep sigh, you followed her, stopping in the doorframe to observe the remaining men in the room. Some had already been approached by the other girls. Uhtred and Finan exchanged furtive glances, as if anticipating something, while the young warrior stared down into his ale mug, his fingers gripping it as if it were a life-saving buoy in an open sea.

You started moving, one step after another, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm your racing heart. Finally, you reached the table and gently placed your hand on the young warrior's shoulder. His reaction was immediate, a sharp flinch that nearly sent his mug toppling. You withdrew your hand quickly.

"I'm sorry," you muttered, your gaze shifting to Uhtred with a questioning look. "I didn't mean to startle you."

Uhtred nodded at you, tapped the boy's shoulder reassuringly, and whispered something in his ear. Then, he gestured to Finan, and they both rose to leave. The young Dane raised his head, looking bewildered at his lord, his eyes wide, and his cheeks turning a deep shade of crimson. He half-lifted himself from the bench, his mouth opening as if he wanted to say something, but Uhtred was already engrossed in whispering sweet nothings into the ear of a giggling girl, his arms wrapped around her waist. Sihtric simply settled back into his seat.

"What's your name?" you asked, placing your hand back on his shoulder and deliberately moving closer, so he could finally see you. Your initial intention was to seat yourself on his lap, a familiar gesture from your former profession. However, the way he looked at you, a mixture of embarrassment and confusion, his breath quickening with each exhale, and the tension you felt in his muscles under your touch, as if he were preparing for an escape, made you change your mind. Instead, you stopped in front of him, your palm still resting on his shoulder, a warm smile curving your lips.

"I'm called Sihtric, lady," his voice was pleasantly soft and melodic, almost too gentle for a warrior, you thought, and it quivered ever so slightly, betraying his nervousness.

"Am I to your liking, Sihtric? Would you like to accompany me?" you inquired. Sihtric fidgeted anxiously in his seat, and you could hear him swallowing hard. It seemed as if he would rather hide under the table at that moment than follow you. But then, a hesitant, barely audible response came, "Yyyes, lady."

Teasingly, you trailed your fingers down his arm and slowly took his hand into yours before turning around to lead the way. Sihtric rose from the bench and followed you, his hand pleasantly warm and slightly sweaty. His fingers wrapped around yours, as if seeking support as he walked beside you.

You turned your head to offer him an encouraging smile, feeling a shiver run up and down your spine as you gazed into the young man's big, expressive eyes. They looked back at you with a mix of alarm and trepidation, and a hint of inexplicable sadness hidden in their depths. An endearingly shy, hesitant smile graced his lips briefly before he averted his gaze. However, his grip on your hand tightened, and he willingly followed you upstairs to your room.

You shook your head as if trying to dispel a vision. You recognized this look all too well; it had greeted you countless times from the hazy, bronze mirror in your room. Your heart swelled with deep sympathy for the young Dane. Whatever he had endured had left its mark on him, just as it had on you. And now, you understood why Eanflaed had chosen you to be his first. You didn't need words to comprehend his emotions; you could feel them. Suddenly, a heavy weight lifted from your heart, and you knew you wanted to make this night special for him. As special as only you could.

You led him into the room and turned to close the doors behind you. The room wasn't large, but it was the best one in the house. It featured a generous bed with a new, soft mattress, covered in fresh blankets and adorned with several pillows. There was also a table by the window, accompanied by two chairs, and a pitcher of ale along with two mugs had been thoughtfully arranged on it.

"Would you like a drink?" you asked, heading toward the table. Sihtric still stood in the same spot you had left him, his hands hanging somewhat awkwardly by his sides, his shoulders slumped forward, and his gaze fixed on the bed, exuding uncertainty.

Without waiting for his response, you poured fresh ale into the mugs and returned, offering one to him. Sihtric's gaze shifted to you as he accepted the mug, raising it to his mouth and emptying it in two big gulps.

You watched him, and despite your best efforts, a hint of amusement played on your face.

"I... I'm sorry," he whispered, handing you back the mug. His gaze dropped to his feet, his hands nervously fumbling with his armor as if trying to adjust it, though there was no need.

"It's just... I... I've never..." he stammered, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"It's alright, no need to apologize," you reassured him with a smile, raising your own mug to your lips and taking a small sip. "Please, have a seat." You gestured toward the chair, and Sihtric obeyed instantly, moving toward the table and taking a seat. You poured another mug and placed it in front of him. Sihtric's hands wrapped around it, but he didn't lift it; he simply clung to it, grounding himself in the sensation of holding onto something.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of. We've all had our first times, not just in this," you said, setting your mug down on the table and starting to slowly unfasten the laces of your dress. A sharp exhale escaped from Sihtric's chest as he watched the fabric slide down your shoulders and to the ground, revealing your simple linen underwear that clung closely to your frame, accentuating your curves. You stepped out of your dress and moved closer to him. He released the mug, his legs spreading slightly to allow you to position yourself between his thighs. You placed your hands on his shoulders, feeling him flinch at your touch. However, you didn't let it distract you this time. Instead, you put your fingers under his chin and gently lifted it, so his eyes met yours.

"I'm here for you tonight. I want you to feel good, to feel safe with me," you murmured, leaning in and gently cupping his face with your palms. "I won't do anything that you don't want or don't like. I will always ask you if you want that and you just have to tell me, if not." Leaning even closer, you noticed Sihtric's breath quickening, and a soft moan escaped him as your lips finally met his.

Still cradling his face with both hands, your lips explored his, savoring the taste of him. His lips were soft and warm against yours, his breath carrying the scent of ale and fresh berries. You smiled as another moan slipped from him when you gently sucked on his lower lip.

Opening your mouth, you allowed him to decide if he wanted to deepen the kiss. Sihtric's lips eagerly brushed against yours, his eyes closed, his breath shallow and rapid. You couldn't help but smile as you realized he didn't quite know what to do with his tongue. So, you teasingly slipped your tongue into his mouth, and Sihtric groaned in response as his tongue met yours. They entangled in an intricate dance, while his hands, growing bolder, slid over your hips, pulling you closer.

A soft whine escaped him as you pulled away.

"May I?" you whispered softly, placing your hands at the laces of Sihtric's armor. He responded with a simple nod, which you took as permission. Your fingers began to work slowly on the fastenings, one lace at a time. With each touch and tug, you felt Sihtric's breath quicken, his eyes following your every movement. Finally, when everything was loose enough, you removed his leather armor, revealing his incredibly well-built torso to your astonished gaze.

"Let me see you," you murmured, tracing your fingers down his muscular upper arms. However, Sihtric buried his face into your belly, inhaling deeply, his arms pulling you even closer as his muscles visibly tensed. You stroked his curly, soft hair and waited patiently. There was no need to rush; you had the entire night ahead of you, and you wanted him to relax and trust you.

"Sihtric," you called him, your voice soft, just above a whisper. "If you don't want this, just tell me, please. I... I'll understand if you don't want this to happen with... someone like me."

Sihtric raised his head to look into your eyes, surprise evident in his expression. "Oh, no, lady. Don't get me wrong, please. I want this. I just... I don't know..."

"I'll show you," you murmured, not allowing him to finish as you leaned in to kiss him again. He responded eagerly, almost desperately, and you deepened the kiss, slipping your tongue between his parted lips into the warmth of his mouth. His eagerness left you slightly flustered, and you didn't want to break the sweet kiss. Shifting your undergarment higher up your hips, you straddled him and lowered yourself onto his lap to gain better access to his lips.

An unexpected moan escaped you as even through the layers of clothes you felt the hard bulge of his cock pressing against your clit and a familiar yet almost forgotten warmth settled in your lower abdomen, slowly spreading further across your body. 

Sihtric's hands found the hem of your undergarment, bunched around your hips, and slipped beneath it. His fingers traced up and down your bare back, his lips never leaving yours. His soft moans and whimpers were like music to your ears, and you didn't flinch as his hands grasped your undergarment and swiftly removed it in one fluid motion. You melted against his broad, warm chest, burying your nose in the crook of his neck. Your tongue slid down it, kissing him there and gently sucking at his sensitive skin. Sihtric groaned, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you even closer, his hips rolling ever so slightly against yours.

"Do you like it?" you whispered.

"Yyyes," came a slightly quivering answer.

"Do you want more?" you purred against his ear.

"I do... I want more... I...," Sihtric's hips bucked against you, and you swallowed his moan with a passionate kiss. His large hands gripped your hips, urging you down against his lap.

You shifted a bit, losing contact with his crotch, and placed your fingers on his stomach. Tilting your head, you watched him hold his breath, as you started unlacing his breeches. Your hand slipped inside and you stroked his hard length, wrapping your fingers around it. Sihtric’s head snapped back as he groaned loudly at your touch. 

Sihtric looked endearingly sweet, his lips parted and flushed from your kisses, his eyes half-lidded. You could feel his fingers trembling slightly as he caressed you in return. This was unexpected; you had believed you would never experience something like this again. Yet now, you could feel lust slowly enveloping you, and you had to admit to yourself that you craved this young, handsome man with every fiber of your being. It was as if his gentle, shy caresses and his sweet kisses had awakened your body from its slumber. The sensation was so overwhelming that you couldn't help but let out a soft moan.

You released his cock and lifted yourself from his lap, but Sihtric was quick to grab your hand, his face bearing a pained expression.

"What did I do wrong?" he asked hurriedly.

"Nothing, you silly boy," you smiled at him reassuringly. "You are good and so gentle." You praised him as you hooked your fingers in the waist of his breeches and gently pulled him up. Sihtric followed your lead, and you continued to draw him toward you with a teasing smile. You took slow steps backward until you felt the edge of the bed against your legs, and you sat down on it, facing Sihtric’s crotch just at the level of your mouth. You pulled down his breeches, freeing his fully hard cock and your eyes widened in surprise at how big and thick it was, precum dripping from the tip.

You wrapped your hand around it and gave it a slow stroke, as you looked up to Sihtric. He was frozen, his eyes wide open looking down at you, his arms hanging at his sides.

“I want to take you in my mouth, Sihtric. Do you want me to?” you asked, your gaze locked with his. Sihtric swallowed hard, appearing as though he wanted to say something, but no words escaped his lips. Instead, he simply nodded in response. It was enough for you and you placed a soft kiss on the red tip of his cock, feeling him twitch in your hand. You wrapped your lips around it and sucked gently, moving your head up and down his length. 

The sounds, rolling over Sihtric’s lips, filled you with hot, boiling desire and your cunt throbbed with hunger for him as your walls started clenching around nothing. Sihtric’s hands found their way into your hair, tangling in them. 

“Oh gods… It’s …. It’s so good… It’s…. I…,” he mewled incomprehensibly, his grip on your hair tightening and his hips starting to move, thrusting forward into your mouth. It didn’t take long for you to feel he was already close to the edge from the way his movements got sloppier, his eyes rolling back into his head. You almost gagged on his length, tears welling in the corners of your eyes, but you didn’t pull back. You let him use you, moaning around his cock, as you drove him closer to his release. 

“It’s too much… I… I can’t….” he cried out and you felt his cock start twitching as he spent himself down your throat, loud moans and whimpers leaving his lips. Sihtric’s legs were trembling from the force of his release, it lasted so much longer and was so much more intense in comparison to the pleasure his own hand was able to give him. Sihtric let go of your hair, breathing heavily, a sheepish, pop-eyed expression on his face, as he looked down at you.

"I... I'm sorry... I didn't...," he stammered, blushing deeply, even to the tips of his ears. Then, he noticed tears in your eyes, and his expression softened. "Did I hurt you?" he whispered, genuine worry filling his beautiful eyes as he cupped your face with his trembling fingers.

"No, you didn't. It's alright," you reassured him with a smile, wiping your chin, as you crawled backward onto the bed and invitingly pulled him by his hand. Sihtric followed your lead, hurriedly removing his boots and breeches, which were still tangled around his knees.

His lips sought out yours as soon as he was beside you, and his kiss was incredibly gentle. He kissed away your tears, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you as close as possible, his legs entwined with yours.

"Please, tell me how to pleasure you in return," he whispered in your ear.

Your core was aching with desire for his touch, and the genuine care in his voice made you shiver. You turned to him and pushed him back into the mattress, as you straddled his naked body.

You took his hands, placing them on your breasts. “Touch me,” you whispered, arching your back as Sihtric’s hands squeezed them slightly, his fingers brushing over your hard nipples. 

“Please, show me more,” he begged and you guided his hand between your legs, pressing his thumb to your clit, pushing slightly and circling it. You moaned, feeling the pleasure rapidly building up in you. It had been so long since you had felt this fire burning inside you.

You grind your wet pussy against Sihtric’s crotch, and a gasp of surprise escaped you as you felt his cock hardening against your folds. You kept moving against him, coating his cock with your slick and soon you both moaned and whimpered in unison.

“I want to feel you inside me,” you moaned, lifting yourself so that you could wrap your hand around Sihtric’s now fully hard cock.

“Please, lady, I’m all yours,” Sihtric breathed and you didn't let him wait as you aligned him with your entrance and lowered yourself down on him. You went slowly, savouring the pleasant stretch, taking him in bit by bit. You leaned forward and your lips found his, swallowing eagerly his loud moan as you took him in completely. Sihtric’s hands took hold of your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he tried to control himself.

“By the gods, it feels so good. You feel so hot, so tight around me. I’m sorry, but I will not last long,” he confessed with a sheepish look in his eyes.

“You don’t have to. You feel too good,” you whispered against his lips as you started rocking your hips against him. 

You pulled back and looked into his big expressive eyes, dark with lust and longing, his cheeks flushed. You could feel how tense he was, how he was trying to prolong the pleasure. His fingers found your clit again, circling and rubbing at it. He had memorised what you had shown him.

Sihtric pulled himself up and wrapped his hands around you, the new angle allowing him to reach so deep inside you that it almost hurt. His breath was warm against your skin as he kissed your throat, and you whimpered slightly. Every move and tender touch, every gentle kiss, every shallow breath, sigh and moan that escaped his lips, the way he held you and the way he looked at you, told you that he wasn't here solely to receive pleasure from you; he wanted to please you. He wanted to love and feel loved, even if only for a brief moment. Tears welled up in your eyes as you wished you had met him in another life, one where you weren't selling your body for silver, something he would likely forget as soon as he left this house.

Sihtric held you in his strong arms, rolling his hips against you and thrusting up into you, his groans of pleasure mingling  with your moans. His grip tightened as he flipped you over. His lips were all over you, kissing, sucking, biting and suddenly the shy and hesitant boy was fucking you relentlessly with increasing pace, moans rolling over his lips and you met his thrusts with the same eagerness, digging your nails into his back.

“I … I can’t hold back anymore,” he hissed and after few more thrusts you felt his cock twitching, his hot seed spilling deep inside you as he came with a loud groan, and you let yourself fly, clenching around his cock and crying out your pleasure, as you fell into oblivion, your orgasm washing over you in hot waves of pure bliss.

Sihtric collapsed over you, and you wrapped your arms around him, savouring the moment and not wanting to let go of him. 

“Thank you,” you whispered in Sihtric’s ear as he finally pulled out of you and rolled to the side. 

He furrowed his brow in surprise but quickly pulled you into his embrace, and you nestled against his warm body.

"Please, can I stay here with you? I just want to hold you a bit longer, if you'd allow me," he asked with uncertainty in his voice, his nose buried in the crook of your neck.

"You can stay for as long as you want," you replied, pulling the blanket over both of you. You lay there for a long moment, enveloped in silence, with Sihtric's arms tightly around you. There was nothing you could do to prevent your tears from slowly trailing down your cheeks.

"Lady, why are you crying? Did I hurt you? Was I not good enough for you?"

You shook your head vehemently. "No, Sihtric. Not at all. You were wonderful. You were too good for me. You don't have to understand it, but believe me when I say that you simply saved me."

With a deep sigh Sihtric pulled you closer in his embrace and you had a feeling that he understood you, that he felt you, and that even if only for this short moment, you were his, and he was yours.

Part 2, Part 3

[eatmeandbirthmeagain]

hello! a little fic request I’ve been thinking on, not pressuring you to write it or anything, just wanted to share.

the y/n is a hot tempered foreign princess who got married to Baldwin when they were both children. she’s very energetic, straightforward, man-like in her character, but has to adapt to fit in the court of Jerusalem and also to „suit” her husband’s calm manner and the fact that he’s ill doesn’t help.

she’s unhappy about it; maybe even tears a little during the wedding, but doesn’t let anyone to think she may be vulnerable (mostly because she understand that that can be used against her in the future after Baldwin dies). but over the time she finds herself drawn to Baldwin because, well, unlike her teachers, he lets her study and play chess with him. he cares about her desires and interests. he also respects her, not just like a woman but as a friend, and a clever one. maybe some of her advice on the politics is used by him at some point (which would be absolutely unrealistic, but really, we’re talking historical romance with a leper king here…). a cute detail would be him gifting her a weapon of some sort to protect herself because he knows how she doesn’t like being treated like she’s helpless. bonus points if he says something romantic and or pathos’y about it.

did I write this whole oc story as a multiple chapter fanfiction in my head? yes, I did. am I going to finish it? absolutely no. but I’d love to read your interpretation!

♧ "Princess" - King Baldwin x Reader ♧

♧ Angst ♧

A/N: Hello Anon! So sorry for taking so long to write this, ive had so many requests. I'm not sure if this is what you had in mind but it was my interpretation and I hope you like it! I dont really like how it turned out as your request had so much detail and my writing does that no justice, but I hope its okay ☺️! As always, this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven, not the real historical figgures. This is also set pre-film. Enjoy!

TW: Leprosy

At thirteen years old, marriage was the last thing on young y/n’s mind. But yet, here she was. Soon to arrive in the city of Jerusalem, to be wed to a boy she had only ever met a handful of times.

Baldwin the fourth. The leper, who's mother just so happend to be ready to find him a wife at the same time her father was ready to find her a husband.

She sat in silence for the entire journey, this was uncommon for her. She usually always had something interesting to say or something to observe with curiosity. But as per request by her father, from now on she “had to act like a proper lady. No more of this ridiculous 'masculine' behavior”.

“You will be wed to a king y/n” he had told her. “You must stop acting the way you do. No king will be allowed such behavior from his wife”. 

Her attempt to keep to herself for the journey had been successful so far. She remained silent and still. Just as her mother taught her. “Just how a lady should be”. 

As the city came into view, y/n felt tears begin to burn her eyes. She would never again be allowed to explore the wilderness on her fathers land, or read every book she was allowed to have from the library. She surrendered herself to a life of boredom and suppression. 

Once exiting the carriage, she was greeted by the royal officials as well as the king's mother.

“I am so pleased to finally meet you young lady" she greeted her with a smile "you shall make a fine wife for my son” . Y/n thanked her and was ushered off quickly to prepare her for the hour of the wedding.

Y/n held back tears as servants worked busily around the room. Dressing her in beautiful garments, jewelry, and makeup. She was distraught. But she dare not cry. They could not see her so weak.

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

The events proceeded and y/n barely even looked at the boy she was marrying. She could not bring herself to make eye contact with the man who would rule her life forever.

They told her to smile. “No man wants to see a lady disappointed on her wedding day” the king's mother had told her before they entered the church.

Baldwin himself was nervous about this day but just enthusiastic. Unlike y/n, he was looking forward to being wed to a young woman. He did not want just a wife to serve him, but a companion too. Someone who he could speak to about all kinds of things. Someone who would love him as much as he loved them. When he saw her, she looked beautiful, but sad. Very sad.

He hoped she was not sad about marrying him. Perhaps his illness deterred her from wanting to even be near him.

But she was still beautiful. She was 14, just like him. He could not take his eyes off her. He had met her a few times before, and she interested him deeply, even though they barely spoke. He more so just watched her play and talk with the other young people from his bedroom chamber window, longing to join them if it was not for his illness.

She played more with the young boys than she did with the girls. Always full of energy and life, always talking and laughing. But now, she looked different. As if the light had been drained from her. 

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

When the wedding was over, the young king and queen got acquainted in the boy's chambers. She still seemed very quiet and unsure about his presence.

“Are you alright?” He asked her the second they were alone. “Yes your highness” she replied in a small voice, very different to the excitable tone she used to have. She sighed and lowered herself onto the small couch, turning away from him to look at her hands.

Baldwin thought for a moment, but then remembered that his mother requested he chose a wedding gift to present her after the affairs.

“I have a gift for you,” he said happily, lightening the mood.

He noticed her eyes light up a little at the comment. “You do?”

“Yes, would you like to see it?”

Y/n nodded excitedly, a smile forming on her face for the first time all day. The boy stood and disappeared behind the red, satin curtains that covered the large windows. He returned a few seconds later with something behind his back and a wide smile.

"I had to hide it, so my mother did not see what I chose for you" he explained. This peeked y/n's intrest greatly.

“Alright, close your eyes, '' he told her, the smile still plastered to his face. Y/n shut her eyes with anticipation. When he told her to open her eyes, she was lost for words. In the young king's bandaged hands, he held a shining silver sword with a pale pink ribbon tied around the handle.

Her eyes widened and stared at the sword for a long time before taking it in her hands to admire it. “Do you like it?” he asked, cautiously, hoping he had not offended her.

“Baldwin.. I love it!!” she exclaimed with a grin, jumping to her feet and wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into a tight hug. The smile returned to his face and he put his arms around her waist.

“Now you can defend yourself my love. No wife of mine will be left vulnerable, even if there are men to protect her. She will defend herself, because she is strong.” His words filled the queen with happiness and hope. Perhaps her father was wrong after all and she could remain as herself. At least in the presence of her husband. 

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

From that day on, they were inseparable. Unlike y/n’s tutors and parents, he allowed her access to his entire private library so they could study and read together. He allowed her time to herself, so she could do the things she loved without anybody telling her how to behave.

He quite often went as far as to seek her out for advice on political issues, not allowing her straightforward intelligence to go to waste.

Overtime, y/n became used to her duties as queen, but as much as she learnt to fit the role, she treasured her time alone with Baldwin. He cared about her interests, her desires. He respected her, more than anyone else ever had. They played chess together as well, each game being a delightful battle of the mind.

He saw her as not just a wife, but as a companion and an intelligent one at that. And for this, she would be forever greatful.