#he inherited her sarcasm

[queenpiranhadon]

╰┈➤ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ✿ .ᐟ: While you're making dinner, you make a small offhand complaint about your husband's forgetfulness- however your children overestimate the seriousness of your tone and jump to conclusions, thinking you don't love their father anymore.

✿ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Fluffff, Satoru being a loving husband, you two are married, crack, kisses <33, you and Satoru have a daughter and a son, f!reader

✿ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Satoru Gojo x Reader

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: ✿

You're more than a little sleepy, having just woke up, but besides their looks, if there was anything your kids inherited from their father, it was their appetite.

And thus, when they got hungry, they got hungry - which was why you were being dragged out of bed at the ungodly hour of 5am on your day off, your daughter and son whining that they wanted pancakes for breakfast.

Yawning, you make your way to the kitchen, your kids impatiently asking you to hurry up and you chuckle tiredly, groaning under your breath as you eye the stack of dishes in the sink that you definitely knew weren't there when you last checked.

"What's wrong Mommy?" your son asks, bright blue eyes staring at you with such an intensity you can't help but wonder is your husband asexually reproduced because his children are carbon copies of himself.

You roll you eyes playfully, adopting a faux grumpy face. "Weeelll.. your father forgot to do the dishes last night being the lazy potato he is...so Mommy's just a little annoyed." You say, being sarcastic obviously - Satoru had came home exhausted from a late night at work, and so being the loving wife that you were, you set out dinner for him, knowing he'd be too tired to wash the plate right after.

However, your kids don't detect the evident sarcasm in your voice, the two instead adopted identical frowns on their faces.

"Do you not love Daddy anymore?!" Your daughter asks, aghast.

"What-"

Your son takes his sister's hand in his with a comical amount of urgency.

"We gotta warn Daddy!" he says, and your daughter nods with the same urgency- the two children now bolting to your bedroom.

You groan - what was the point of dragging you out of bed if they were going to your room anyways?!

Sighing, you decide to continue making breakfast, knowing that with the appetite of your husband and children combined, you could probably feed an entire classroom.

You're just about done, adding the last pancake to the sizable stack you created when you feel two muscles arms wrap around your waist.

You chuckle softly, feeling fluffy locks of white hair tickle the skin of your neck as your husband peppers a few sleepy kisses to your shoulder, reveling in your warmth.

"Mmm...morning baby..." he murmurs and you hum, rubbing gentle circles into his forearm.

"Morning 'Toru... did you sleep okay?" you ask and Satoru nods, his answer a little muffled from his face still nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

"Yeah...wish I could've cuddled with you more though..." he whines, and you can feel his dramatic pout against your skin.

"Aww...poor baby...is there anything I can do to make you feel better?" You say teasingly.

Satoru grins."Well...there is one thing...maybe a kiss from my gorgeous wife..?" " he suggests, and you laugh, turning your head to press you lips against his, only for two pairs of little hand push your clingy husband away from you.

"No! Daddy's ours now!" Your daughter says adamantly, and you gape at her in mock offense.

"What?!" you say incredulously, and your son nods solemnly.

"You said that you didn't like Daddy because he doesn't wash the dishes!" he says, and Satoru raises a teasing eyebrow at you.

"You said what?" he asks teasingly and you cross your arms.

"I said nothing of the sort!" you say, but your kids are unfortunately extremely stubborn. "All I want is a little kiss, is that so bad?"

Your daughter exchanges a glance with her brother before running straight at you.

"Run! And take Daddy with you! I'll hold her off!" she yells, grabbing some random whisk off the counter and jabbing it playfully in your direction, acting like a sword.

However- you knew that there was no point in fighting back, there was no need.

Because if there was one thing that could beat your children's stubbornness, it was your husband's love for you, and his constant need to shower his pretty wife in endless affection.

Your point was proven the moment your husband and son barrel into the kitchen once more, the latter trying in a futile attempt to slow him down by clinging to his father's legs - a small "I couldn't stop him!" being cried out as your daughter sends him a dirty look. However, before she can do anything, the little girl in scooped up into her father's arms, trapped in his embrace, and squirming profusely and Satoru finally smashes his lips against yours in victory.

When he finally breaks apart, he's grinning at you with a cheesy grin, watching your breathless state with those gorgeous blue eyes you fell in love with. (Your kids are groaning in the background)

Satoru: 1

Kids: 0

A/N: LMAO they're all so silly - lord forbid they're all competing for your attention one day 😭

𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @tootiecakes234 @gina239 @its-liberty-frazblair @lilyadora @callmeanythingyouwant00

@milkm4nz @lightsgore @skaiblu-e @that-one-lightskin @hahajsphaha

@mcgriddleggs @beaniesayshi @abinformyobsessions @sharycatx3 @riririr11

@ladygojooo

[malfoysanctuary]

His, Without a Word

Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Summary: There was never a need for grand declarations, he said everything with the way he looked at her, touched her, held her like the world spun only when she breathed.

There were certain constants at Hogwarts.

The Black Lake shimmered like obsidian under the moonlight. The Great Hall always smelled faintly of parchment and pumpkin. And Mattheo Riddle always had one arm slung over the back of her chair.

Y/n had stopped questioning it months ago.

It was just… him. The way his presence fit around her like a favorite jumper—worn-in, comfortable, quietly claiming. His fingers would occasionally brush the ends of her hair, twirl a loose strand while he read over her shoulder or whispered dry sarcasm into her ear during Potions.

It didn’t matter that he rarely spoke about how he felt. He didn’t need to.

He said it in a million small ways.

Like how, at the Slytherin party that night, his eyes found her the second she stepped through the door. He was already sprawled across the dark green velvet couch like it belonged to him—legs stretched out, drink in hand, low laugh curling like smoke from his lips.

And then he saw her.

His drink hit the table. His expression didn’t change, not really—but the atmosphere did. People stepped aside. He held her gaze until she made her way over, unbothered by the stares.

She wasn’t two feet from him before his hand found her waist and pulled.

“Missed you,” he murmured against her temple, low enough for no one else to hear, as he guided her down onto his lap like it was second nature.

It was second nature now.

His arm curled around her middle, fingers splayed possessively across her stomach, and his lips ghosted a trail down her shoulder. She felt it in her bones—the way he softened around her, how his whole body leaned in like it had craved her all day.

“You saw me three hours ago,” she whispered, smiling despite herself as she rested her head on his chest.

“Too long,” he said simply, as if that explained everything.

And somehow—it did.

Later, when the common room was littered with passed-out students and flickering candles, Mattheo still hadn’t let go.

They sat tucked into the corner of the couch, a half-empty bottle of Firewhisky on the table beside them. His thumb was tracing slow circles on her thigh. Her legs were draped over his lap, his cloak thrown over her shoulders.

“I like parties better like this,” she murmured. “Quiet. Just us.”

His hand paused.

Then he turned his face toward her, the firelight catching the sharp angles of his jaw, the softness in his eyes that only she ever saw.

“You make everything better,” he said, like it hurt. Like it terrified him how true it was.

Y/n blinked. Her heart stuttered.

“Mattheo…”

He cut her off with a kiss—gentle, slow, reverent. His fingers tangled in her hair, and she leaned into him like gravity wasn’t a choice anymore.

When they parted, his forehead rested against hers.

“I don’t say it much,” he whispered, “but I need you to know. I’m yours.”

She exhaled like she’d been holding her breath for weeks.

“I know,” she said softly. “I’ve always known.”

But peace at Hogwarts never lasted.

Rumors had a way of crawling out of shadows. And the name Riddle always carried a legacy.

The next morning, Y/n found a torn scrap of paper on her bed.

Does he tell you what he does at night? Do you know what he’s capable of?

Her stomach turned.

Mattheo never hid his darker tendencies. There were things he didn’t talk about. Things whispered in corners—his father’s name, the power he inherited, the choices he’d made before her. But he wasn’t him. Not anymore.

Still, that seed of doubt twisted inside her.

By the time she reached the courtyard, the sky bruised with storm clouds, she found him sitting on the stone bench, cigarette between his fingers, jaw tight.

“You got one too, didn’t you?” he asked without looking up.

Y/n’s breath caught.

“Yes.”

Mattheo nodded slowly. “They want you to be afraid of me.”

Her heart cracked. “I’m not.”

His eyes finally met hers.

Haunted. Fragile, beneath the mask.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you were,” he admitted, voice hoarse. “I haven’t exactly earned the benefit of the doubt.”

Y/n crossed the space between them and knelt in front of him.

“You don’t have to earn something that’s already yours.”

He stared at her.

She took his hand and placed it over her heart. “You’re in here, Mattheo. All of you. The soft, the dark, the scared, the furious. You don’t have to deserve love to have it.”

His hand trembled. Just slightly.

Then he broke.

The cigarette dropped from his fingers as he pulled her into his lap, arms locking around her like a lifeline. His face buried in her shoulder.

And for the first time in a long time, Mattheo Riddle let himself be held.

That night, no one questioned why Mattheo had Y/n tucked so tightly against his chest in the common room. Why his hand never left her back. Why he kissed her temple every time someone looked at her too long.

He didn’t need to say anything.

She was his, and he was hers.

Even in the silence, they spoke a language only they understood.

And no one dared interrupt it.

[22ayla21]

Fathers and Their Children Part I

The Twisted Wonderland boys as fathers.

Third year Second year First year

Trey Clover

Trey will be very attentive to his children, always trying to create a safe and comfortable environment for them. He will always be there to support, guide and help, especially in difficult situations.

He will love his sons with all his heart, but will show it through actions rather than words. He is not one to over-express emotions, but his love and care will be evident in his daily actions.

Trey will try to be a good mentor to his sons, passing on his wisdom and life experience to them. He will try to teach them to be independent, responsible and honest, while not forgetting to show tolerance and understanding for their mistakes. He will patiently explain and repeat important things, but if his children cross the line, he will show that there are consequences. However, he will approach this with thoughtfulness and consideration, avoiding harsh punishments.

Trey will try to set a good example for his children. He will teach them honesty, responsibility, hard work, but also the importance of rest and not forgetting about fun and simple pleasures in life.

He will probably be actively involved in creating family traditions. These can be shared activities, such as baking or going for walks, which will strengthen family bonds and create an atmosphere of comfort. Despite his reserved nature, Trey loves to add playfulness to his relationships with children. He may be the one who will arrange little pranks or jokes to amuse his sons, adding an element of lightness to their lives.

Trey will always plan for the future of his sons, providing them not only with everything they need, but also preparing them for adulthood. He may be the one who helps with their studies, practical skills and moral values.

When his sons face difficulties or worries, Trey will always be there to listen and support. He will show the importance of openly sharing your feelings and not being afraid to show vulnerability.

Cater Diamond

Cater would try his best to be the coolest and funniest father for his daughter. He would arrange joint photo shoots with her, shoot funny videos and could even start her own Magicam account (under strict control, of course). His daughter would definitely know all the memes and trends thanks to him.

If his daughter wants to take a beautiful photo, Cater will set up a real mini-photo studio with perfect lighting and angles. And if she is a teenager and is embarrassed to be photographed, he will patiently wait for the moment when she herself asks him for a photo.

If someone offends his daughter, Cater will not get into a fight, but he will be able to put the person in their place with words so carefully and subtly that the offender will not have a chance. He can also twist the situation on social networks so that the offender himself will regret his behavior.

Cater knows how to make any event special. Whether it's a birthday, graduation, or just a tough day, he'll find a way to cheer up his daughter, whether it's a cute gift, an unexpected picnic, or a whole surprise party.

Cater is a sensitive person, and he always notices if his daughter is in a bad mood. He won't pressure her, but he'll gently lead her into a conversation or just offer to spend time together until she decides to share her worries.

He'll definitely be the dad who buys his daughter a teddy bear the size of a room or suddenly brings her her favorite dessert just because "that's how he felt." But if she starts to be capricious or demanding too much, Cater will find a clever way to explain why this is not an option without abruptly prohibiting her.

His daughter will definitely inherit his love for jokes and sarcasm. They can organize mini-competitions for the funniest memes or come up with funny pranks for family and friends.

Does your daughter want to be an artist? Cater will find her the best materials. Want to become a musician? Here's a cool guitar! The main thing is that she's happy.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona was initially reluctant to become a father. He doubted that he would succeed, and in general did not see any particular need for it. However, when the children were born, his attitude gradually changed... Fate laughed at him and gave him not one child, but two - twins. And although he always says that he treats them equally, it is noticeable that he has a special weakness for his daughter.

Leona loves to play chess with the children, but never gives in. They lose time after time, get angry, sometimes even cry, but each time they demand revenge. He is proud of their stubbornness, but does not say it out loud. The twins inherited his cunning and ability to manipulate, and when they want to get something, they act subtly and harmoniously, but Leona always sees through them.

He does not like it when children scream loudly or demand attention. Usually he just silently picks them up and sits them down next to him, sometimes even lazily throwing them over his shoulder if they are too active.

Cheka used to be the nephew who pestered Leona, and now Farena suffers from the pranks of his nephews. "It's karma," Farena says with a chuckle, watching the children make insidious plans against their uncle.

The cutest moment in the house is when all three lions (Leona and the twins) simultaneously turn their heads to the sound of their mother's voice, and everyone's right ear twitches in unison.

Leona is not particularly strict, but if someone dares to offend his children, he will turn into a real beast. Once, one of his peers teased his daughter - after that, the child never appeared in the Kingskolar family's field of vision again.

Leona can be tough and serious, but when it comes to sleep, the children have no problem climbing into his lap, settling down like on a pillow. At first he grumbled, but then he resigned himself. When the kids cause chaos, he will never admit that it was his idea. Even if it is written on his face that it was his idea.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil surrounds his daughter with care and love, but at the same time brings her up with discipline. He does not tolerate sloppiness, laziness or rudeness, so from childhood he instills in her a sense of responsibility.

His daughter's clothes are always impeccably chosen: only high-quality fabrics, stylish styles and no "childish tasteless kitsch". Even if it's just pajamas, they fit perfectly and emphasize her refined taste (according to Vil).

From early childhood, he teaches her how to properly care for her skin and hair. For example, before going to bed, they have a special ritual: soft creams, combing her hair and, of course, a bedtime story (but not just a story, but something from the classics, with an aesthetic style).

Vil can be strict and even a little demanding, but if someone offends his daughter, that person will regret it. He will not tolerate rudeness, rudeness or, God forbid, bullying towards her. If necessary, he will personally talk to the parents of the "offender" or even the teachers.

Vil will not force her to pursue a career in the fashion industry, but he will definitely teach her a sense of taste and style. If she wants to become someone far from the arts, he will support her, but will still nag a little if her clothes are "non-expressive".

Despite his majestic image, when he is alone with his daughter, he can allow himself to be soft and even a little silly. If she asks, he can dress up in a crown and participate in tea parties with stuffed animals.

Although he always holds himself proudly and gracefully, there are times when he just sits and watches his daughter sleep, realizing how quickly she is growing up. Sometimes he wishes she could remain his little girl for a little while longer.

Everyone thinks that Vil is the boss in their family. But in reality, his little princess can get anything from him - if she approaches with the right approach. He often tells her that she should value herself, never settle for less, and be independent. Vil wants his daughter to grow up to be a strong, elegant, and respected woman who knows her worth.

Rook Hunt

Rook is a father who admires every achievement of his children, even the most insignificant ones. First step? "Oh, mon amour, look at this graceful hunter growing up!" First scribble? "This is a real masterpiece!" He literally turns every event into a celebration.

Like a true hunter, he teaches children not only ordinary things, but also how to be observant, to feel nature, people and the world around them. He could, for example, discreetly follow their adventures to make sure they are safe, but at the same time give them the freedom to explore.

If his son and daughter participates in competitions, concerts, even in ordinary school activities - Rook will support them as if they were the main characters of the world arena. Moreover, his applause and cries of support are so loud and heartfelt that they attract the attention of everyone around.

Rook does not impose his point of view on children, but, on the contrary, helps to reveal their natural talents. If the older child wants to be an explorer, and the younger one an artist, he will find ways to develop their abilities, creating the perfect environment for them.

He teaches his children to appreciate beauty, whether it is beauty in people, in nature, or in art. They can spend hours walking in the forest, listening to their father describe the grace of every detail, be it a flower petal or the movement of an animal.

Despite his enthusiasm, Rook can be strict if his children do something unfair or are lazy in realizing their potential. He will not yell or punish, but his disappointment will be felt more than any punishment. “Mon enfant, how can this be? Does a hunter stop when he is faced with a challenge?”

Rook allows his children to try, make mistakes, and learn. He does not limit them, but at the same time teaches them responsibility for their actions. He could let them go on an adventure, but somehow still keep an eye on their safety. Whether it's hunting trips (not necessarily actual hunting, perhaps just nature watching) or morning gatherings with a cup of tea and conversations about life, Rook will create family traditions that will be passed on to the children.

Idia Shroud

After learning that he is going to have a child, Idia will go through several stages: denial, panic, and then... total study of the issue. He will reread all possible guides, create files with parenting tactics, and even try to program Ortho as a nanny.

He will be afraid that the boy will follow in his footsteps - become just as unsociable and withdrawn. Because of this, Idia will try, albeit awkwardly, to support him in his social development. For example, instead of dissuading his son from going for walks, he will push him to go out. However, if the son refuses, he will immediately say: "Well, okay, actually it's fine at home...".

If the son gets interested in games, comics or technology, Idia will immediately become his main supplier of new products and rare collector's editions. He will justify himself by saying that he is simply "investing in his education," but in reality, he is pleased to see his son engaged.

He worries that his son will be embarrassed by him or think that he is weak. Because of this, he will occasionally try to appear "cool" - for example, by demonstrating his hacking skills or trying to play the role of a formidable parent. However, this rarely works, because his son has long known that his dad is a kind, albeit anxious genius.

If someone offends his child, Idia will first find information about this person, hack their accounts, and then come up with a cunning revenge. He will not directly deal with the offender, but will create a situation in which the offender himself will be scared. If the situation requires personal intervention, he will gather his strength and do it - even if it will make him look extremely awkward.

He can sometimes forget himself and treat his son like a playmate, and not like a child. For example, she will suggest him to scold the NPC instead of solving the problem in reality. But if his son really needs support, Idia will put all fears aside and help, even if it means leaving her comfort zone. When her son falls asleep next to her, when they just sit and are silent, when Idia understands that his boy trusts him - at such moments he feels that maybe he is not so bad at this "game" called parenthood.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus is the king of Briar Valley, and his son is the heir. He understands the importance of education and responsibility, so he will teach his child discipline, respect for others and traditions. However, he will never be cruel - if his son makes a mistake, he will not yell or scold him, but calmly explain what the mistake was.

He can calmly listen to a million questions in a row, even if it is something like "Why do I have horns, and my mother does not?" or "And if I eat a precious stone, will I become stronger?" Malleus is reserved and rarely loses his temper, so it is difficult to upset him, even if his son angers him with something.

He will not allow anyone to harm his son - not enemies of the kingdom, not magical creatures, not even overly persistent teachers. If someone dares to threaten the heir of Briar Valley... it is better to pray to them.

Malleus understands that his son has inherited the power of dragon magic from him, so he trains him from an early age. He will proudly watch the child's first spells and gently correct him if something goes wrong.

Despite his seriousness, Malleus does not miss a moment to spend time with his son. He can throw him in the air, ride him on his shoulders, or even let him pull his tail.

Malleus rarely shows his feelings in words, but he conveys them through actions. If the child is afraid of the dark or sleeps poorly, he quietly sings an ancient lullaby that his mother sang to him. Perhaps this is even a family tradition, and now this song is passed down from generation to generation.

As a king, he is busy with the affairs of the kingdom, and sometimes he has to leave the child alone. If he sees that his son is sad or lonely, his heart squeezes with guilt. He always compensates for this - brings gifts, takes his son with him to important ceremonies or just spends an evening with him, telling ancient stories.

He is the first time in this role, so sometimes he makes mistakes. He can demand too much from the child, forget that he is still little, or underestimate his emotions. But Malleus learns, listens to you (his queen) and to his son himself, trying to be a better father than he was yesterday.

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia doesn't just educate - he makes the process fun. Need to learn to read? Great, now it's the riddles of ancient runes. Learning math? Excellent, count how many times dad dodges a pillow attack!

Who needs carriages and transport when you have a fae dad? Even if the baby can already walk, she often ends up on his shoulders, joyfully holding his hair.

He can play for hours, run and even rock the baby at night until her eyes close. But when he falls next to her on the couch, he is already unbearable.

Lilia trusts her daughter and wants her to learn from her own experience. He will not overprotect her, but if he feels that she is in real danger, it is better to run.

Whether your daughter wants to become a warrior, an artist, an inventor or just explore the world - Lilia will stand next to her and say: "Excellent! Show me how you do it! "

There is a place in the forest where they can sit for hours, chat or just lie there, looking at the stars. It is their little world, where no one is allowed except for mom, if she brings something tasty.

Her favorite "accomplice" in her pranks. While mom looks away - and Lilia is already helping her daughter hide in the closet or quietly sneak into the kitchen for a night treat.

The fae bat has his fangs for a reason! He proudly teaches her how to fly, night vision and even the ability to silently appear behind people's backs (mom is not thrilled).

He understands that his daughter is more special because of the human blood in her veins, but he will never show sadness. Instead, he makes her life happy, full of fun and adventure. After all, as long as she has dad - everything will be fine.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

begging on my knees, ripping my skin off for shiu kong ANYTHING <3 ily cinna LMAOO

Bullet for my Assassin

Tags: Shiu x fem!Reader, Toji x fem!Reader, mfm, why choose, kidnapping, murder, dead dove, dark romance plot, you're being used for ransom, Toji and Shiu are morally black in this one.

Synopsis: Your dad is a wealthy CEO of Japan, but he hates you because you were born a girl instead of a boy. Toji and Shiu kidnap you and hold you ransom for money. Things ensue???

An: Hiiiii nepo baby, i know you said shiu kong anything. I hope you don’t mind Toji making an appearance. Also, HAPPY (so very late; i'm so sorry.) BIRTHDAY!!! Look, i gotta be honest. I ran out of inspiration for this fic, so I'm posting it, hoping it will revitalize some of that inspiration for a part two. That being said, let me know if I should make a part two.

Being the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in Japan was actually a death sentence. Since you didn’t have a dick between your legs, you’re obviously less than in the world of business.

Your dad pressured your mom into giving him children to inherit the company, but he didn’t want children. He wanted men to inherit the company. You were just a lowly girl!! How were you supposed to manage a company? Girls clearly didn’t know anything about finance or business. (can you smell my sarcasm)

Ruthless and cold, your father never showed you nor your mother an ounce of love. In fact, he had tried multiple avenues to try and prove that you weren’t his kid. Unfortunately for both of you, you share 23 of your dad’s chromosomes.

His anger was growing worse towards you as you got older and developed your own personality. Everything you did was wrong in his eyes. Even though the company was specifically suppose to go to his kid, your father had been toying with the idea of selling out just so you couldn’t ruin what he had built.

Not that you cared, you thought about how if you were the CEO, you’d burn the company to the ground just to spite his wishes. You’d love to see him turn over in his grave as he watched his baby burn because of his daughter.

You basically lived alone. Your mother had passed a couple of years ago due to strange circumstances, and your father never bothered to come home. There would be no point to socializing with the likes of you.

Your mother’s early death rocked you to your core. For your entire childhood, she was weary and exhausted. Your father directed his anger on her, and she couldn’t help but subconsciously put the blame on you. If only you were a boy.

She did a good job of not showing her true thoughts. She wasn’t a doting or nurturing, but she was there for you. She never raised a hand to you, never raised her voice with you, never called you mean names. That was all you could ask for whenever your dad was so vile towards you. While she wasn’t close with you, she was still your mom, and she was the closest thing to parental guidance that you had. Her death was the beginning of your lonely existence.

The mansion was like a prison for you. Since your dad was so prominent in social media, you had an image to uphold, and he didn’t want you ruining that image. So, he didn’t even give you the chance to interact with anyone outside of the house. The only way for you to escape his claws was to either get married or die, and getting married was impossible when you weren’t allowed to interact with anyone on the outside.

You preferred being alone. The empty quiet feelings was better than the anxiety you got when your father was home. He’d always start yelling at the waitstaff about something so minuscule. He harbored so much anger that the house practically turned sour when he came home.

What was the saying? If you grow up with an angry man in your house, there will always be an angry man in your house. The thought of marrying someone like your dad made you want to gouge your eyes out with a butter knife. Being alone was the best option.

Besides, the waitstaff was nice. They cared for you… albeit from a distance, but they cared. It was known that you received the worst of your father’s anger, so they empathized with you.

The house was particularly quiet late one evening. It wasn’t the normal quiet that gave you a sense of peace. It was eerily quiet, giving you a sense of dread. The sounds of hushed talking and dishes clattering was the usual background noise in the house from the waitstaff, but there was nothing right now… as if it truly was just you in the house.

The alarms would’ve went off if someone entered. Not to mention there’s security posted around the perimeter… unless your father was the reason that it was so quiet… Surely, it was just him. Maybe he sent the waitstaff home for the day?

You carefully slipped out of bed, pulling a robe on over your silk pajamas. Being a CEO’s daughter wasn’t all bad. You received luxury items in exchange for feeling void of any real human connection and your dad’s hatred!

Briefly taking a moment to wonder if you were being one of those dumb characters from a scary movie, you quickly pushed those thoughts out of your head. Your life was more of a tragedy than a horror movie.

Slowly stepping out of your room, the click of your door latching filled the space, and you held your breath for just a moment. Nothing.

You soundlessly walked down the hall. Since you were on the second floor, there was a landing where you could look over the rails to see the bottom floor.

Nothing. No- is that a foot? Is someone lying on the ground. You leaned farther over the wooden railing to see. You were surely mistaken, right? Who was lying on the floor?

The feeling of a hand pressing down on the back of your head. Fingers entangled with your hair as the unknown man gripped you from behind. His other hand was steady on your hip. You were being dangled over the side of the railing by a stranger.

Immediately, you started to thrash against his hold, panicking as you did so. “Let me go!” You shouted, kicking your feet out from behind you to try to get away from him.

Turning your head as much as his hand would allow, you only caught the glimpse of a scar on the man’s lip. He shot you a grin before pushing your body closer to the edge, almost making you topple right over the railing.

“Yeah, princess? Want me to let you go?” His voice was husky, teasing almost. It had a raspy edge to it that sent shivers up your spine as you were now trying to push back against him to get away from the edge.

Your eyes were looking at the drop, wondering if it was better to just fall than to face whatever this man was going to do you. Somethings were worse than death…

You switched tactics, pulling away from him instead of trying to get away from the rail. You were going to topple right over it. A growl of frustration left his lips as he easily yanked you away from the railing. Your body collided with his brick wall of a warm chest.

Taking a chance to look up at him, you immediately regretted it. The perpetrator had black hair that came over his forehead and pretty green eyes that you could get lost in. His lips seemed to permanently house a cocky smirk, and fuck, he was built.

“You must have a death wish, brat.” He scowled at you as if he wasn’t the one who dangled you so close to the edge.

Not bothering to answer his taunts, you quickly started to fight against him, beating against his chest with your hands, trying to wriggle from his grasp. He was massive. You were sure that none of your blows were doing anything to him.

Without any difficulty, the hulk-sized man slung you over his shoulder, securing an arm around your frame. He didn’t even flinch or bat an eye each time you hit him. Your fists did little to his toned back.

Not able to fight your way out, you use your next best defense tool: your voice. “Let me go!” You shrieked as loud as possible. “Let me go! Somebody help!” Tears coated your eyes, and your voice went hoarse from yelling.

“Let me goo~ Somebody help mee~” The man mocked you in an obscene high-pitched tone with a laugh. He had done his homework. Even if you screamed, no one would be coming to save you right now.

Every staff member in the house was deceased, and thank god your dear old dad is so paranoid that he put his mansion in the literal middle of nowhere. There were no neighbors that’d hear you either.

You were completely and utterly alone with the man who was kidnapping you. A deep sense of dread and hopelessness filled your stomach, and you continued to cry — weakly begging for anyone to help you.

The man toned you out rather easily as he carried you down the massive flight of stairs. He used his free hand to flip open a burner phone, and he dialed a number before talking.

“The security system is still down?” His gruff, no-nonsense voice returned to him as if he wasn’t just making fun of you moments prior.

Even though you knew it was likely one of his associates on the phone, you screamed for help. Hot tears coated your cheeks as your voice strained.

A firm smack to your ass jolted you, and your voice caught in your throat. Did your kidnapper really just spank you for misbehaving?

“The girl isn’t hurt. She’s just being dramatic. I’m heading to the pickup spot.” He didn’t let the person on the other side answer before he clopped the flip phone shut, effectively ending the call.

“Gonna get me in trouble acting like that, girl.” The man tsked his tongue, and he continued to effortlessly carry you around to the back entrance of the house.

You finally caught a glimpse of your poor staff members. Your heart lurched in your chest. They had families and lives. Now, they were dead on your floor because of this man.

The man didn’t say another word as you cried. He kept his one arm firmly wrapped around you as he so casually carried you out of the house. The security system and the guards had already been dealt with.

Soon, you unceremoniously shoved into the back of a black tinted car. You struggled as much as you could, kicking and scratching. You even tried to bite the man as he tied your arms behind your back.

“Keep fighting. I’ll hogtie and gag your ass.” He threatened lowly, becoming sick of this game with you. He never quite understood why people fought so hard against him when he clearly held the upper hand. It was useless.

Letting out a small sob, you laid against the backseat of the car. The leather interior felt cold and ruthless as your tears fell from your eyes.

“Come on, Toji. We don’t have all day.” The driver reprimanded as if the man was simply buckling in a toddler and not kidnapping a grown woman.

You flinched from the sound of the driver’s voice. You had been so focused on fighting against the Toji guy that you didn’t even realize there was another man idly sitting in the front seat, puffing on a cigar.

Toji tied your ankles together, but he didn’t hogtie you thankfully. Without saying another word, he slammed the door shut before getting into the passenger side seat.

You felt your heart drop as the car started to move. You had an inkling… you’d never see that mansion again. You just knew it. Even though you hated the very frame that house sat on, you longed for the empty feeling of sitting inside. You’d take the void of living in a loveless home over being taken by two men.

Your stomach churned, and suddenly, you felt ill as you faced the grave circumstances. Bile raised in your throat, and your hands struggled against the ropes that Toji had bound you with. Panic set in. You were going to choke on your vomit while you laid face down in it.

“There she goes.” Toji muttered, tone laced with annoyance before he reached back and pulled your arm so your mouth was hanging over the back seat. You threw up safely into the floor.

“I just got this car detailed.” The driver groaned as he took another puff from his cigar.

“It happens every time without fail. Ya should start puttin’ puppy pads back there or something.” Toji responded as his arm was still reached back, bracing your body.

“Yeah, because that’s not suspicious at all.” The driver responded with a sarcastic tone. It was clear that this wasn’t their first encounter with kidnapping someone. You didn’t even want to think about the implications of that.

Your adrenaline was dropping off, and while you knew you should try and stay awake — try to map out the turns the car made, you were exhausted after emptying your stomach contents into the floor.

Your head rested against the cool leather seats, and a moment later, you were out.

“It’s like fuckin’ clockwork.” Toji commented as he saw you dozing off in the backseat.

“Let me hogtie you and throw you into the back of a car, and we’ll see if you don’t throw up and pass out.” The driver grinned over at him.

“Kinky.” Was all the man responded with.

*** *** ***

The next time you awoke you were bound to a chair in a surprisingly well-lit room. It appeared to be a bedroom. Judging by the overly bland decor, you assumed this was an Airbnb or a hotel. There was no way they could’ve hauled your sleeping body into a hotel without being noticed, so it was definitely an Airbnb. Taking in your surroundings, you flinched as you finally caught a glimpse of the two men standing in your peripheral. They were silently watching you.

“So nice of you to join us, sleeping beauty.” Toji mocked with an easy grin, the scar on his lip flexing upwards. If he wasn’t your kidnapper, you would’ve classified him to be rather handsome in a very rugged sense. He just looked like the type of man who could get the job done.

“I thought we accidentally killed ya.” The driver who was now not driving remarked.

You had to be smarter with your words this time. There was no point in begging to be set free. They had already taken you to god knows where, killed your entire staff, and bound you to a chair. There was no going back for them.

“My dad has money. That’s what you’re after, right?” You bargained, taking a stab in the dark. This didn’t feel like human trafficking. This felt like a hostage, ransom situation. Little did they know, your dad probably wasn’t going to pay a single penny to get you back.

“Clever girl.” The driver grinned. He was also another handsome man with chestnut brown hair and a mustache. He seemed much more calmer than Toji, and he had a capable energy to him. You could tell that he was definitely the ringleader. Toji was simply the muscle behind the operation.

The driver took three slow, calculated steps towards you. He was still out of reach as he crouched down to be at your level. His eyes were dark brown as he carefully exam you.

“If you’re good, I’ll explain how this is gonna work.” The man said lowly. His voice was deeper than Toji’s but not as gravely or hardened. He had a voice fit for radio.

You slowly nodded, tears already sliding down your cheeks out of sheer fear.

“Good girl. Keep that same energy for the camera.” The man purred before you directed your attention to Toji. He was setting up a tripod with a nice Canon camera set up on it. He flicked the lights off, but it wouldn’t be too dark for anyone to see.

Your body started to react before you could even fully process what was going on. You rocked back and forth in your chair while crying, trying to fight against the restraints. Toji clicked the record button, and he pulled two black balaclavas out of his pocket. Throwing one at the other man and slipping one on for himself. Their identities besides their eyes were completely concealed.

The nameless man tied a piece of cloth that worked as a gag around your mouth, and you sobbed harder. This could go so many ways, and you didn’t want to consider all the possibilities. Your mind thinking up the most depraved acts.

Then, the nameless man held a voice distorter up to his mouth, like the ones that were used in horror films. Toji suddenly grabbed your hair tightly with his oversized fist, and he made you look directly into the camera.

The nameless man started the video off by addressing your dad by his full name. “We have your daughter.” He plainly stated, going silent so one of your muffled sobs could clearly he heard.

He went on a spill about the ransom and how it was going to work. They were demanding 10 million dollars to be paid in a week. It had to be paid in person by your dad, or they would mail him your body parts.

You choked out sobs and tried to scream. You were going to die. There was no way you were going to make it out of this situation alive.

Toji’s thumb ever so gently caressed the back of your head. He was still holding your hair tightly, making you look directly into the camera, but he was subtly rubbing small circled into your scalp as if he was trying to subtly soothe you.

Whatever his intent was, it wasn’t working. You strained against the rope and the gag. You cried and tried to beg your way out of this. Finally, the nameless man showed the camera a timer. It was set for 168 hours, and it was steadily dwindling down.

Then, he stopped the recording ominously. “Can’t believe we got that on the first try.” He muttered with a laugh before pulling off his balaclava. He then flicked back on the lights.

You looked at both of the men in a confused manner. They were both so calm and casual after recording a literal ransom video. It was eerie. You hated this feeling of distrust and uneasiness that settled into the pit of your stomach.

Toji ripped off his balaclava, and he promptly untied the gag before picking up the camera off the tripod and walking away.

“Alright doll, you did so good.” The nameless man praised as he crouched back down to be at your level. “I guess that means I gotta tell you how things are gonna work now, huh?”

A sheepish nod later, and he continues, "I'm Shiu, and you already know the other old fucker's name is Toji." He starts, gesturing to Toji who was lazily typing away at a computer with a death glare.

"We're not gonna hurt ya until you give us a reason to. You just gotta be good for us and do as we say, and this will be a breeze." Shiu's tone was steady and lighthearted as if he was talking about the itinerary to a vacation and not your kidnapping.

Tears clouded your vision. Your captors seemed to have thought of all the details but one. Your father couldn't give less of a fuck about you, and he likely wasn't going to pay a dime for your safe return.

"And when my dad doesn't pay you two, then what? You two kill me and mail my body off so you can move onto the next mogul's daughter?" You asked -- tone full of resentment.

"We're not amateurs, darlin'." Shiu grins at you, boldly using his thumb to wipe away a few stray tears from your cheeks. You're still bound, so you're at his whim right now. "Toji's workin' on releasing that video publicly. How could the wealthiest CEO of Japan get away with not paying to have his daughter back safely?"

You pursed your lips together, trying to think rationally. None of this felt real. Your heart stuttered in your chest. Would your dad pay to get you back if he risked ruining his reputation?

If he ruined his reputation, companies would pull their stocks and tank his company. It would be hard for him to form partnerships because other companies wouldn’t want to be associated with him. His perfectly curated baby would come crashing down.

He would have to pay to get you back.

Noticing the gears turning in your head, Shiu patted your hair gently with his oversized palm. “We also got a few other tricks up our sleeve. We didn’t do this on a spur of the moment decision, darling.”

They weren’t two petty criminals looking to make it big. These two men were the real deal. They had the knowledge and precision that it took to commit serious crimes. This probably wasn’t even their first ransom situation.

“Glad to know you plotted my kidnapping perfectly.” You muttered in a self-deprecating tone.

Shiu gave another chuckle as his hand stayed on your head. His touch was warm and unwavering. It had been years since someone showed you affection so casually.

“I’d say you’re in good hands, but…” He grinned at you, ruffling your hair before removing his hand. “You’re in capable hands.” He said before he slowly walked around behind you. “Be honest, darling. If I untie you, are you going to try to run?”

Your eyes lingered on the door of the Airbnb. Would you even make it far if you did run? Would it be worth being tied down for even longer? Your eyes wandered to Toji, who was sat strategically near the door. His gaze was still on the laptop, but you could tell that he could easily catch you if given the chance.

Shiu laughed as he could see the inner turmoil on your face. You really wore your emotions on your sleeve, not hiding that you were weighing the option of running. “You wanna see what’ll happen? Try it, princess.” He dared as his fingers worked to loosen the knots around your hands.

Your body was achy from the precarious position of being tied to the chair. You instinctively stretched, feeling your stiff muscles protest.

You looked back up at Shiu, registering that he was offering you to run. “Go ahead. Go.” He said as he nodded towards the door.

“If you make me run, I’m taking it out on your ass.” Toji grumbled from his position near the door. His green eyes were now glaring at you.

Against your better judgement, you ran. You had to run, even if it was clearly a setup. If you didn't try to get away, then someone would say that you wanted this to happen. You wanted to be kidnapped from your prison.

You barely made it to the door and swung it open before two strong arms wrapped around your midsection, hauling you up as if you weighed nothing.

"Fucking brat." Toji's voice rumbled in your ear as he lifted your body up, pressing your backside against his chest as he kicked the door shut.

Shiu chuckled as he made sure to lock it back. He really just enticed you to run to piss Toji off. He had to keep things interesting after all.

A grunt passed your lips as you were unceremoniously slung onto the plush bed in the room. You tried to kick and fight your way out of Toji's hold, but his hands expertly held you down and forced your arms above your head. You squeezed your eyes shut.

Here it comes... the part where you wish they would've just killed you...

The sound of metal jingling caught your attention, and you hesitantly opened your eyes to see Toji handcuffing you down to the headboard.

As soon as one of your wrists were cuffed and bound, Toji got up off of you. "Until you can learn how to behave and not be stupid." He muttered as he turned his back to you and went back to sit down.

Well, that wasn't what you were expecting.

"Technically-" You spoke up, looking between Toji and Shiu as they watched you with amused eyes. "I was behaving since he told me to run." You pointed out, nodding your head towards Shiu.

"And I told you what would happen if you did run. You're lucky I haven't bent you over my knee yet." Toji countered, crossing his arms over his chest with a lopsided grin.

"Yet-?"

"I haven't decided if I'm going to do it or not, but your smart mouth is pushing me, brat."

You swallow thickly, realizing what you were truly dealing with here. Your eyes leave Toji's figure, and you look up towards the handcuff chaining you to the bed.

You were kidnapped from one prison and brought to another, and yet, a strange voice in the back of your head is telling you that your kidnappers have better intentions with you than your own dad.

"Don't listen to him," Shiu's low voice rumbled, breaking your line of thought. "He's all bark and rarely any bite,"

"He killed all of my staff members," you retort, staring at Shiu with furrowed eyebrows. How could he act like Toji was anything less than a killing machine?

"Touché," was all Shiu responded with as he looked over at you with a relaxed grin.

Toji was back to lounging as he tilted his head back. His adams apple bobbing as he closed his eyes. He wasn't really going to sleep next to the door, was he?

Shiu had walked off out of sight, and you could hear him responding to a phone call.

Moving around on the bed, you figured you may as well get comfortable while you're trapped.

[idkyetxoxo]

Jacaerys Velaryon - Innocence and Inexperience

Summary - An arranged marriage leads to a night of tender intimacy and raw emotion. Amid the echoes of crude remarks, Jace and his bride navigate their first night together with vulnerability and newfound connection, transforming their union into one of genuine love and trust.

Pairing - Jacaerys Velaryon x Lannister reader

Warnings - Sexual content (smut)

Word count - 2204

Masterlist for Jacaerys • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

It all began with a betrothal, an arrangement that, though unexpected, held particular weight. To my surprise, my match was with someone close to my age, someone who was destined to inherit the Iron Throne.

As I sat beside Jace, trying to steady my nerves, I sipped cautiously from my cup. My brothers, Jason and Tyland, had orchestrated this match with great zeal, and for the first time in memory, they seemed to find common ground in their shared purpose. 

The evening wore on, and the atmosphere grew increasingly raucous. Aegon, ever the embodiment of reckless abandon, was already significantly inebriated by the time he began his probing inquiries. 

His words slurred as he leaned closer, the wine in his cup sloshing dangerously over the rim.

"Do tell me, nephew," Aegon began, his voice tinged with a drunken bravado. 

"You do know where to place your cock and such, right?" His question was crude and unbidden, and I could feel the colour drain from my face. 

My eyes darted toward Jace, who was gripping the edge of the dinner table so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His jaw was set in a tight line, a clear sign of his mounting fury.

Aegon's gaze shifted between us, his smirk widening with each passing moment. 

"If not, I'd be more than happy to show you," he continued, his words dripping with contempt. "Perhaps I could be your teacher and take your betrothed to bed first, just to show you how it's done."

The insult was sharp and uncalled for. 

Jace's patience snapped as his hand crashed down onto the table, causing the silverware to clatter and my heart to leap. I flinched, the sound echoing in the tense silence that followed.

"You can play the jester if you like," Jace's voice was low and dangerously calm, "but hold your tongue before my betrothed." His words were laced with a venom that made the room's temperature seem to drop.

Aegon's laughter erupted, harsh and mocking. 

"Oh, come now, nephew," he jeered, leaning back in his chair with a sneer. "What's the matter? Afraid I'll show you up? You seem a bit too sensitive about your lady's honour."

Jace's face reddened with fury, and he leaned forward, his eyes blazing. "This isn't a jest, Aegon. This is a matter of respect. I won't stand for you demeaning her or trying to provoke me with your vile comments."

Aegon's smirk never faltered, but his tone grew more taunting. "Respect? From you? You're hardly in a position to lecture me on decorum, nephew."

The comment struck a nerve. Jace's hand tightened into a fist, and he took a deep breath, struggling to maintain his composure. "That doesn't give you the right to belittle me or my future wife. If you think your drunken bravado will make me back down, you're sorely mistaken."

At this point, I could no longer bear the rising tension. Leaning closer to Jace, I whispered softly, "It's not worth it. Please, let it go."

Jace's gaze, which had been locked in a cold stare at Aegon, softened slightly as he turned his attention to me. His anger was still evident, but the reminder of the bigger picture seemed to pull him back from the brink.

Aegon, noticing the shift in Jace's demeanour, let out a derisive chuckle. 

"Ah, look at that," he taunted, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "The lioness has managed to calm the beast. How quaint."

Jace's eyes remained fixed on me, but the tension in his shoulders eased, his fury remained barely contained. The confrontation had cooled, but the underlying discord was far from resolved.

─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ───

Our wedding was a spectacle of grandeur. The king had spared no expense to ensure that every detail was perfect. From the decorations to the feast, the event was a testament to wealth and status. 

Now, as the day drew to a close and the festivities had finally quieted, the time had come for our wedding night.

In the privacy of our chambers, Jace and I sat together on the edge of the bed, our eyes meeting with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the pomp of the day.

Jace leaned forward with deliberate care, his every movement speaking of patience that contrasted sharply with the chaos of the day. His fingers, gentle as a summer breeze, brushed a stray lock of hair from my face. 

The touch was feather-light, an intimate gesture that seemed to draw us closer in a world suddenly reduced to the space between us.

His fingers lingered briefly against my skin before he leaned in to place a soft, lingering kiss on my lips. The kiss was gentle, and though his movements were calm and composed, my heart raced in response to the intimacy and the gravity of the moment.

"I will take it slow, I promise," he murmured against my lips, his voice a soothing balm to my frayed nerves. 

I could feel the sincerity in his words, but the rapid thudding of my heart seemed deafening in the quiet of the room. I worried he could hear it, each beat a reminder of my apprehension.

Jace pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against mine. 

"Do not worry about my uncle's words," he continued softly, his eyes searching mine for reassurance. "Pay them no heed."

I nodded, though the memory of Aegon's crude remarks lingered like a shadow over the evening. His taunts had stung, and the weight of his disrespect had cast a pall over what should have been a night of unmitigated joy. 

Yet, as I looked into Jace's eyes, I found a comfort that helped to dispel my fears.

Jace's fingers moved with deliberate care as he began to undo the laces of my wedding dress. The task proved more complex than anticipated, and he struggled slightly with the intricate knots. I reached out to assist him, our hands working together to free me from the elaborate garment. 

With each lace undone, the tension of the day seemed to ease a little more.

As the final laces slipped between our fingers, Jace removed his clothing with equal deliberation, leaving us both naked and exposed to one another in a vulnerable and intimate moment. 

He paused to look at me, his eyes roaming over my body with a mixture of awe and tenderness.

"You are so beautiful," he murmured, his voice low and filled with admiration. A warm blush crept across my cheeks, stirred by the sincerity in his words.

Gently, he laid me back on the bed, his lips brushing softly against mine. His hands roamed tenderly down my arms, interlacing our fingers in a gesture of unity and affection. The contact was both soothing and reassuring, grounding us in this intimate moment.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his voice a soft tremor of concern. I nodded in response, unable to find words, my throat tight with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation.

Jace's movements were slow and careful as he began to enter me. A sharp pain shot through me, and I let out a low hiss. The sensation was intense, a reminder of the newness of this experience. 

Jace's eyes flickered with concern, and he paused, his face a portrait of empathy and restraint.

"I've heard it can be painful at first," he said, his voice a low murmur as if he were trying to soothe both of us. "I'll let you adjust."

He remained still, allowing me time to acclimate to the sensation. His hands were tender and supportive, a constant comfort in the midst of the discomfort. The pain gradually began to ebb, replaced by a growing sense of connection and intimacy.

"I'm okay," I whispered, my voice trembling slightly but filled with reassurance.

Jace's expression softened with relief and tenderness. He resumed his movements, his thrusts slow and measured. Each motion was gentle, a deliberate act of intimacy designed to honour our connection and ensure my comfort. His rhythm was steady, his focus entirely on making the experience as meaningful and gentle as possible.

He kept his movements slow, giving me time to adjust with each gentle thrust. His hands stayed close, his touch a constant source of reassurance.

"You're doing so well," he murmured, his voice filled with quiet admiration. His encouragement was a balm, helping me to relax and fully engage with the moment.

As my comfort increased, a surge of urgency and desire overcame me. "Jace, go faster," I encouraged, my grip tightening on the sheets beneath me. 

Our connection intensified with each movement, and I found myself craving more, caught between the steady reassurance of his loving approach and the primal instincts of the human body.

Jace responded to my request with a deep, guttural groan that resonated through the room. 

His movements quickened, the rhythm of his thrusts becoming more urgent and insistent. Each push was driven by a growing need, his focus shifting to match the heightened intensity of the moment.

"Seven hells," I breathed, overwhelmed by the sensation as my back arched upwards to meet him. 

The increased pace intensified the experience, deepening the connection between us. Pleasure surged rapidly, merging with the urgency of our shared passion.

Jace's eyes darkened with a primal intensity as he gazed down at me. The sight of me beneath him, my body trembling and glistening with a sheen of sweat, seemed to ignite something deeper within him. 

The way my breasts bounced with each of his movements, their rhythmic motion emphasizing the intensity of our union, drove him to new heights of desire. 

The slickness of my skin, catching the dim light and reflecting his fervour, only heightened his arousal.

His grip on my hips tightened, his fingers pressing into my skin as his thrusts became more forceful and fervent.

As his urgency grew, so did the intensity of each thrust, and the line between pleasure and pain began to blur. Each thrust drove him deeper inside me, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he watched my body quiver beneath him

"Jace," I gasped, my voice strained as the force of his movements became overwhelming.

He was lost in the moment, his need for me consuming him. His thrusts grew harder, more insistent, and a sharp pain shot through me. 

I cried out, the sound a mix of pleasure and distress.

Tears began to leak from the corners of my eyes, the emotional and physical intensity combining in a way that left me breathless and exposed.

Jace immediately noticed the tears, his face shifting to one of alarm and concern. He halted, his breath coming in short, anxious bursts. 

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice laced with worry. "Did I hurt you?"

I met his concerned gaze, striving to reassure him despite the tears still glistening in my eyes. "I'm fine," I said, my voice trembling but earnest. "It's just... a lot. But I'm okay, really." 

Jace's expression remained troubled, his eyes scanning my face for any sign of distress. He continued to hold me close, his movements slowing as he sought to comfort me.

"I didn't mean to push you too much," he said, his voice filled with genuine regret. "I apologise if I hurt you."

I reached up and placed a soothing hand on his cheek, offering a comforting smile. 

"It's not your fault," I assured him softly. "It's just that it's so intense. But it's okay. We have all night, and we can go at whatever pace we need."

His eyes softened with relief, and he nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing. He resumed his movements with a more mindful rhythm, his touch gentle and careful. The room was filled with a renewed sense of intimacy and understanding as we adjusted our pace.

As Jace's thrusts grew more attuned to our shared rhythm, the intensity of our connection heightened. With each movement, the pleasure between us built to a crescendo. Our bodies moved together, synchronized in a growing wave of sensation.

Finally, the buildup of pleasure reached its peak. I felt a shuddering release, a wave of intense sensation that made me gasp. My body arched, and I cried out softly, tears mixing with the overwhelming feelings.

Jace followed suit, his breath quickening and his movements becoming more urgent. He let out a deep groan as he reached his climax, his body trembling as he finally found release.

As I lay there, breathless and teary-eyed, Jace's gaze fell on the glistening tears that streaked my flushed cheeks. His thumb, moving with the tenderness of a whispered apology, gently brushed them away. 

"I apologise" he murmured, his voice filled with genuine regret. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

I gently squeezed his hand, looking into his eyes with a reassuring gaze. "Don't worry," I whispered softly. "It was intense, but I'm alright"

Jace's expression softened with relief, and he pulled me close, his arms wrapping around me in a comforting embrace. We lay together, the warmth of his body against mine a soothing presence.

"I'm here," he murmured, his voice gentle and reassuring. 

I nestled closer to him, finding comfort in his embrace. "I know," I whispered. 

We held each other, the intensity of the moment giving way to a deeper sense of connection. The night stretched ahead of us, and we took our time to savour the closeness and understanding we had found together.

A/n - Something soft and sweet, editing this and I realised it's unintentionally a part 2 for 'The Lioness's Webs'  <3 

[cherriies-snake]

But I like it!! ⋆˚꩜｡

PAIRING : Sam Monroe x Curly/Wayvy!reader

WORDS : 1.1 k.

WARNINGS : Reader insecure about her hair.

“Sunshine, do you believe in love at first curl? cause I’m hooked. Now, Sam truly believes that angels have curly hair."

Sam Monroe is your best friend, so it was no surprise that he was always at your house. Clearly, today wasn't the exception. You both had developed a strong bond since you had been friends since preschool.

Who would have thought that sharing half of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with the kid who forgot his lunch would be a great way to start a wonderful and unbreakable friendship?

Obviously, if you ask Sam, he wouldn't have any problem with breaking the friendship, you know, in that way.

You had just gotten out of the shower, so you were sitting at the vanity in your room, about to struggle to make your hair look decent for once in your life, without looking like one of those clowns that wear a giant rainbow wig.

All the products you always used to define your hair were scattered across the surface of the vanity, brushes, creams, mousse, gel, and even serum. All the products were open and kind of spilling from use since everything always ended up in a sticky mess, and you were too lazy to clean it up.

"Why do you have so much stuff for your hair? Looks like you're scared of going bald."

Sam asked with a smug smile from the comfort of your bed, which was something adorable to watch from your perspective because his black clothes made a huge contrast with your pastel colored sheets, not to mention your army of stuffed animals.

(Where there was also a cute Rilakkuma plushie that Sam had given you for your birthday.)

"You're also at a good age to avoid the receding hairline you might inherit."

You replied with the same sarcasm he always used with you, and you could see how his smug expression turned into a look of pure horror and panic as he dramatically ran his hands through his hair, looking for any possible bald spot.

"Don't ever mention that shit again, I don't want to have nightmares about bald patches on my head."

Hearing his comment, you couldn't help but laugh out loud. Oh, you would definitely remind him about it for the rest of his life.

"There are other alternatives, don't worry, you can always wear a wig, Sammy!"

He immediately rolled his eyes in response as he sat on the edge of your bed to watch better what you were doing.

"But seriously, what’s all that crap for? I never see you using all that."

He asked curiously from his new position.

He was right, you almost never defined your hair unless it was for an important occasion or something like that because you found your curls very annoying to manage.

This time was no different because Sam had told you that tomorrow both of you were going to take a walk on the beach and eat an ice cream, so you wanted your hair to look nice and not like you had just woken up.

Usually, you always styled your hair somehow without leaving it loose, that’s why you always ended up with a messy bun on your head and some loose strands, because you had the idea that when you wore your hair down, you looked like a walking bird’s nest.

"They're to define my curls."

You explained in simple words so he could understand, but you failed because Sam had a completely confused face.

"I mean, all these things help my hair look nice."

He simply nodded when he understood your point.

You started to divide your hair into small sections with clips, then you applied cream and gel and used the brush in a way that your curls formed naturally.

"Why do you almost never wear your hair down? Your messy buns don't look bad, but your loose curls are prettier."

Sam broke the silence with that comment, and he could feel how his ears and entire face turned red and heated instantly.

"Thanks Sam, that was something sweet to hear. The truth is, I don’t think I’ve fully accepted my hair yet, you know?"

Your relationship with your hair had always been complicated because you were coming out of a curl transition after years of chemical straightening in a desperate attempt to boost your self-esteem, but that just destroyed your hair.

However, now you were at an intermediate point about how you felt about your curls. It was more of a love-hate relationship.

It didn't help either that during those years, you had dated a boy that, under your spell of being in love, you thought was the one.

But Sam had never liked him for various reasons, but you always thought he was just being dramatic and jealous because you were spending less time with him.

But when your curls started showing again, that boy began to grow distant little by little and finally stopped talking to you, but not before saying a hurtful comment that stayed burned in your memory:

"You looked cleaner and prettier with straight hair, now it's like I'm dating a damn bird's nest."

When you told Sam what he said, it was like a pressure cooker exploded, his blood boiled completely. How could someone dare say such a thing to HIS GIRL? Okay, you weren't his yet, but you would be.

You literally had to stop him and beg him not to go and punch that guy.

"If you ask me, I like your hair the way it is. I mean, you basically look like an angel fallen from heaven."

Hearing his words, your cheeks instantly turned a deep crimson pink. Whenever Sam gave you a compliment, you could feel little butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You always tried to convince yourself it was because you weren't used to the compliments he gave you.

But deep down, you knew it was because feelings for him had bloomed inside your heart.

You just gave him a warm, submissive look because, as always, words seemed to get stuck in your throat.

You both stayed in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, looking at each other. Words weren't necessary at that moment, your gazes were more than enough to speak for both.

You slightly lowered your gaze to his lips they looked fluffy like a freshly sponge cake and pink like melting cotton candy, so fucking kissable. You thought.

And as if Sam could read your desires, finally leaving his fears behind, he lunged at you, pulling you closer and pressing his lips to yours in a soft and warm kiss.

The kiss was full of passion, but without becoming sexual, it was simply your souls melting together in a kiss you both had been waiting for a long time.

After slowly pulling apart, gasping slightly for air, your foreheads rested together, and you both laughed warmly.

"I'm crazy about you, dumbass."

Sam finally said with a slightly nervous laugh.

"Me too, Sammy."

Who would have thought, after ignoring and bottling up the feelings you had developed for each other over the years, you finally confessed, starting a new stage together.

OMG, I FINALLY REACHED THE 1000 WORDS!!! CONGRATS TO ME 🥹🫶🏻

All of u are invited to a party 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

I love Sam with all my fucking heart man <3

TAGLIST: @anakinstwinklebunny @bxbyysstuff @sinisterminist3r

[blueblossomrose]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SATORU GOJO! 🎂

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Fem!Reader

Content: Fluffy, Gojo is a dad, female reader, is implied that reader is younger than Gojo,

Notes: December 7 was Gojo's birthday and I wanted to give my man a present 😩 but I was uninspired 😐 really nice, so, belated happy birthday, Gojo! 💗

Comments and reblogs are very welcome ♡

It was almost three-fifteen in the morning.

The soft light from the bedside lamp in the room barely illuminated the room. The low, rhythmic sound of the baby monitor, a muffled noise at first, soon became impossible to ignore for Satoru, who woke up with a frustrated groan.

He was lying in bed, where he had fallen asleep wearing only a crumpled t-shirt and sweatpants. A messy strand of his white hair fell over his eyes as he sat up, rubbing his face with his hands.

"That brat is going to kill me one of these days…" he muttered softly, his sleep-hoarse voice full of sarcasm but with a hint of genuine exhaustion.

[Name], who was lying on the right side, was also awakened from her sleep by the noise of the baby monitor. She was about to get up to go to the baby's room, but Satoru stopped her.

"Let me…"

"Are you sure?" She said, soft and worried.

"Yes, I can handle it. Go back to sleep,” he replied, giving a tired half-smile, before getting up from the bed.

He stood up with slow and somewhat clumsy steps as he walked down the dark hallway of the house to the baby’s room.

Little Kazuya was standing in his crib, holding onto the bars with his tiny fingers, his big, sleepy eyes looking straight at the door. His white hair, which he had inherited from Satoru, was all messy, and his red little face indicated that he had probably been crying for a while.

“Huh? What now?” Satoru grumbled, trying to sound serious, but failing miserably when he saw the innocent and curious look on the baby’s face.

As he approached, the boy stretched out his arms in an automatic gesture, a silent plea that Satoru could not ignore. He leaned over and picked the little one up, feeling the warmth of the trembling little body against his chest. The baby let out a soft sob, the crying finally subsiding now that he was in his father’s arms.

"Do you know what time it is?" Satoru whispered. "Three in the morning, young man. Do you have any idea how important your old man's sleep is?"

Kazuya, of course, didn't answer. Instead, he let out an adorable yawn and rested his head on Satoru's shoulder, causing the sorcerer to let out a long, resigned sigh.

"Tsk, that's what happens when you have my genetics... you can't even sleep like a normal child."

As he murmured, his tone was softer now. Satoru began to rock the baby with slow, rhythmic movements, walking in circles around the room. He ran his free hand gently over his son's back, feeling him slowly relax. Silence returned, except for the distant sound of the city sleeping outside and Kazuya's increasingly slow breathing.

Satoru looked down at the sleeping face of the baby, who was now fast asleep in his lap. The constant arrogance disappeared, replaced by a tender gaze.

"I don't know how you did it, brat... but it seems like you're starting to soften me up," he whispered, before carefully placing Kazuya back in his crib. He straightened up and stood there for a moment, watching his son sleep. A part of Satoru wondered how he, someone so used to living on the edge between strength and pride, now found himself surrendered to such a fragile and small creature.

"This world doesn't deserve you."

Walking back into the room, he saw [Name] there. She was half-awake, her face illuminated by the dim light of the lamp, her expression soft and restless.

Satoru looked at her and sighed. He lay down on the bed next to her. They stared at each other in silence for a while, before she spoke. "Did he fall asleep?"

"Yes." He mumbled. "After making me spin around with him for 7 minutes."

[Name] laughed softly. "I consider that pretty quick for his sleeping patterns."

"Oh, sure..." Satoru rolled his eyes, but soon smiled when he heard her laugh.

It wasn't just the sound itself, but the fact that she was more comfortable, more at ease than when he had known her. When their paths had crossed, [Name] had been as shy and reserved as a flower before spring. The memory of her back then — her eyes always downcast, her fear of speaking her mind — still haunted him. But there, in the dim light of the night, as she smiled softly with a light humor, he saw how much she had changed. And, perhaps, how much he had changed too.

"Tomorrow is your birthday," [Name] says, her eyes fixed on his, a warm expression lighting up her face.

"Hm? Oh, yes," Satoru answers absently, as if he had forgotten, but the slight glint in his blue eyes indicated otherwise.

"I want to make you a cake."

"A cake, huh? What flavor?" he asked, arching an eyebrow curiously, his tone slightly playful.

"It's a secret! The flavor will be a surprise."

Satoru tilted his head with a mocking smile. "If it was supposed to be a surprise, there would be no need to even talk about the cake, right?"

[Name] laughed, covering her mouth with her hand, as she did whenever she tried to be discreet. "Satoru, you are a silly!"

Satoru. The sound of his own name did something strange inside him. Not in a bad way — quite the opposite. It had been a while since anyone had called him that, by his first name, and the feeling remained funny, almost unsettling, like a distant memory of the intimacy he was no longer used to having.

He couldn't remember the last time someone had called him Satoru so naturally, without reverence, without fear or weight. It was strange. But it was good.

When he was at home, with [Name] and his son, he wasn't the strongest jujutsu sorcerer Satoru Gojo. He was just Satoru. Just Satoru.

That small realization made him smile softly, without notice it. When [Name] noticed, she laughed again, for no apparent reason, just because the lightness of the moment seemed contagious. Satoru accompanied her laughter with a muffled sound, almost a laugh, but low, careful not to wake little Kazuya in the next room.

He looked up at the ceiling, his body relaxing further against the mattress. Satoru lightly squeezed her hand, still intertwined with his.

He didn't need to be the strongest one. He didn't need to prove anything to anyone.

The house returned to silence. The only sound was the calm rhythm of their breathing. When he finally closed his eyes, still holding her hand, Satoru felt that, for the first time in a long time, he was not alone in the world.

And that was enough.

© blueblossomrose 2024, I do not allow copying/plagiarism of any of my fanfics.

[lateenightstories]

Not Supposed Too

Things You Shouldn't Feel

Summary :: On the way to summer training camp, Tooru Oikawa finds himself seated next to his longtime rival—you. When you fall asleep on his shoulder, he’s forced to confront the feelings he’s been trying to ignore. Loving you is wrong… but in that quiet moment, it feels far too right.

Tooru Oikawa knew it was wrong.

Loving you? You—of all people. The very girl who had made a sport of hating his guts since childhood. The girl who called him out on every little mistake, who rolled her eyes when he smirked, who matched his sarcasm blow for blow like it was a match she was determined to win. You’d been his rival for as long as he could remember—before either of you could spike a volleyball or spell “competition.”

Your families weren’t exactly the friendliest either. There was a long, messy history there—petty drama, old grudges, whispered stories exchanged across dinner tables when they thought the kids weren’t listening. But you and Tooru had been listening. And you’d inherited that rivalry like it was part of your DNA.

So yeah, he knew it was wrong.

But knowing didn’t stop the way his chest tightened every time you walked into a room. It didn’t stop the way his eyes were drawn to you in every match, every hallway, every damn group photo. You were everything he pretended not to be impressed by—smart, sharp-tongued, infuriatingly talented, and beautiful in a way that made his brain short-circuit if he thought about it too long. You challenged him, pushed him, made him want to be better just to prove you wrong. And he loved that about you.

He just… wasn’t supposed to love you.

Especially not now. Not like this.

The bus rumbled under him as it climbed the narrow road leading up to the summer training camp. He was stuck in a window seat, sandwiched between the bus wall and you. Assigned seats. Coaches’ orders. Some cruel joke played by the gods of fate, apparently.

The ride was long, hot, and noisy—first-years chattering excitedly, second-years playing cards on tray tables, the occasional shout of laughter from the back. But all Tooru could focus on was how close you were. And how, somewhere around the third turn, you’d fallen asleep.

On him.

Your head rested against his shoulder now, your arm brushing his every time the bus swayed. You were completely out. Breathing softly. Warm. Real. And very much unaware of the fact that your mortal enemy was actively losing his mind beside you.

Tooru didn’t dare move.

He sat as still as possible, his hands clenched in his lap, every nerve ending on fire. Was it weird that he liked this? That he wanted to lean his head on yours? That he wondered if you’d flinch or sigh if he slipped his hand into yours?

Yeah. It was bad.

He swallowed hard, staring at the seat in front of him like it held the secrets to the universe. He should’ve been focused on training camp, on drills and practice matches and strategy. Instead, all he could think about was how peaceful you looked right now. How soft your features were when you weren’t arguing with him. How much he wanted to see more of this version of you—the one that wasn’t fighting him tooth and nail, the one that trusted him enough to fall asleep beside him.

A quiet bump in the road jostled the bus, and your fingers brushed lightly against his seat. The contact was barely anything, but it lit him up like a firework show.

This is dangerous, he thought. This is stupid. This is the kind of thing you don’t come back from.

And yet… he didn’t pull away.

He couldn’t.

Because even if everything about this was wrong—rivalries, family drama, everything he was supposed to believe—this felt more right than anything else had in a long time.

Tooru Oikawa was in love with the one girl he was never supposed to fall for.

And this was only the beginning.

[venussaidso]

Hades can be a possible Ashwini-coded character as well because I remember a viral tweet from years ago (which must be deleted because I can't find it) fancasting Ashwini Moon Benedict Cumberbatch and possible Ashwini native Tom Hiddleston as the Disney version.

link to thread

Also from his facial features alone, he reminds me of Ashwini Suns Peter Capaldi & Al Pacino and Ashwini ASC B.J. Novak. He just has those nodal eyes.

Ashwini Sun James Woods voiced Disney's Hades.

He has those eyes as well. Of course, not every Ashwini native will inherit nodal eyes. I mean, just look at Cumberbatch. He's got those cat eyes from his Punarvasu Sun, but the fancasting of him as Hades may be due to the Ashwini energy these fans have unconsciously picked up on.

edit: it's been almost six years already.

Ashwini Sun Peter Capaldi looking like Ashwini Moon Hugh Grant btw!

Ashwini is commonly symbolized by horses, known for its speed, unpredictability, tricky, and quick-witted nature. Disney Hades' rapid mood swings, his energetic scheming, his swift decision-making, and fast-talking personality captures the speedy essence of this nakshatra. Also, his ability to switch from *sunshine* charming to downright menacing in seconds mirrors the extremely charming and dualistic nature of Ashwini, which further connects to the "con-man" archetype. I mean, Hades quite literally works to scam Hercules in the animation story.

Ketu = detachment, isolation, and the hidden. Hades, being the ruler of the Underworld, is literally detached from the world of the living, governing a realm that most avoid out of fear. Another Ketu characteristic is his apathy, sarcasm, and plain disinterest in Olympus' social order — aligning with Ketu's nonconformist and outcast vibe. Also with Ketuvians, they're never outcasts because it's cool. They deeply don't care, and they can't help that they don't care even if they try to, which is sometimes devastating. But anyway, Hades vibes with nobody but himself.

The combination of Ketu with the fire element can manifest an explosive temper and impatience. He embodies this with his frequent fiery outbursts. His blue flames can symbolize Ketu's spiritual fire, which burns away illusions and reveals the truth beneath.

I'm certain James Woods' Hades highlights Ashwini because of this Hades' restlessness. Ashwini influence brings a desire for adventure and freedom due to the Mars rulership, Ketu heightening the Mars influence from its sucking receptivity alone. Hades is frustrated with his confined role in the Underworld, wanting power beyond his realm. I made a post with Ketu nakshatra characters being power-hungry, but I didn't mention more on how this is just simply related to these fire signs' quest for liberation. So the internal poverty of Ketuvians also indicates inward suffering & obsession (due to lack), which is why they may embody very destructive power-hungry tendencies. It's due to the unconscious, authentic desire for liberation, manifesting in all the wrong ways.

Mula Moon Lena Headey as the fearsome, power-hungry Cersei Lannister.

Dhanistha Sun Susan Egan voices Meg in Hercules, and Hades uses her as a tool to get what he wants. Their dynamic echoes this post I made regarding some Mars nakshatra x Ketu nakshatra duos I've seen. Often the Ketuvian is behind the actions of the Martian, who works as their footsoldier for something grand.

even the way he talks is that of a con-artist.

More fancastings

Magha Moon Bob Odenkirk as Hades.

Bottom three are all possible Ashwini natives. Tom Hiddleston, James Woods, Hugh Grant etc.

Speaking of Magha nakshatra, Magha Moon Cheyenne Jackson played Hades as well.

Someone fancasted Mula Moon Gerard Butler as Hades too.

Mula Sun Ralph Fiennes also played Hades!

This reminds me of the film Meet Joe Black, starring Brad Pitt, with Mula Sun, who plays DEATH himself.

Anthony Hopkins, the star of the film, who has Mula Moon, plays a man who Death guides to the afterlife through friendship.

Like Hades of Greek myth, the realm that Hela rules is the Underworld. In the Marvel Cinematic Universe, Hela is portrayed by Ashwini Moon native Cate Blanchett.

In Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes, Hela Lokidottir had been voiced by the Ashwini Moon native Nika Futterman.

[yourlocalbadgerscales]

James Potter not being able to hide his bewilderment when he sees that baby Harry has inherited his mother’s green eyes… James Potter skipping around the house, his and Sirius’s voices draining each other as they stand together looking down at the new member of the Potter family sleeping tightly, their eyes shining and mouths running….

James Potter, who never lived long enough to learn that Harry also inherited his mother’s sarcasm, her humour…

Harry James Potter, who inherited Lily’s gaze, that look in his eyes… like he was older than his age… Harry Potter, who inherited Lily’s desperate need to prove herself, Lily’s posture, the way Lily wrote her g’s… Harry, who inherited not only traits from his mother, but also traits from his father.

Harry with his father’s messy hair, Harry who bounces his leg when he’s stressed and ruffles his hair when he’s nervous, unlike his father who ruffled it to impress girls. Harry with a glimpse of his father’s mischievousness in his Lily eyes. Harry who talks in his sleep like his father, Harry with dimples like his father, Harry with poor eyesight like his father.

It’s all a mess of Lily (can’t function properly under stress), James (showers in cold water)… and Harry himself (short temper). Because if it’s something so many people seem to forget about him, which always pisses him off, is that Harry is his own person too.

He loves Treacle Tart, he has his own awkward little laugh, he can’t control his face, he bites his nails when studying, he loves strong smells, and that’s all him. Just… him.

And what Sirius never got to tell him, is that: if people would try to look past the way his parents are still with him in his eyes, behind his smile and in his heart… they would see a wonderful young boy. So much more than what his parents ever made him. Harry raised himself. Harry grew up to be his own.

But Sirius never got to tell him that, just like he never got to tell him that he had Remus’s awkward flush, Sirius’s shit-eating grin, Dorcas’s frustrated resting face, Regulus’s unbothered expression when he was locked into his own little shell… traits that were Mary’s, Marlene’s, James’s, Lily’s, and most importantly Harry’s own.

Sirius never even learnt if these were things Harry would have liked to hear.

[eriace]

mean it ; tsukishima kei

oneshot & fluff ft. lime ↪ in which y/n agrees to fake-marry her childhood friend tsukishima for complicated adult reasons, but pretending to be in love with him turns out to be way harder when he starts looking at her like that. ↷ tsukishima kei ; haikyuu

↳ an order of cappuccino from anonymous in the comeback cafe event !

THEY SIGNED THE paperwork in silence.

A marriage of convenience—technically legal, fully fake, mutually beneficial. He needed the married status to bypass a complex inheritance issue involving land. She needed… well, a place to live and someone who wouldn’t screw her over.

Enter Tsukishima Kei. Still tall, still blunt, still sharp around the edges. But older now. Quietly successful. A professional volleyball player turned analyst. Glasses still in place. Jawline even sharper.

What she wasn’t prepared for was how domestic life with him would feel or how quickly it’d stop feeling fake.

“You didn’t have to make coffee for me, you know.”

She blinked up at him from the kitchen island, legs swinging lazily from her stool.

“We’re married,” she said playfully. “I’m just playing the part.”

Tsukishima raised an eyebrow, tugging on the hem of his tie. “Next thing you know you’ll be kissing me goodbye in front of the neighbors.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

He stilled for half a second. Then gave her that crooked, unreadable half-smile that meant I’m thinking something you’ll never guess.

“You’d make it convincing, at least,” he said, reaching for the mug she’d made him.

His fingers brushed hers.

Only slightly. But she still felt it in her spine.

It got worse when they had to host dinner.

Just some extended family, a couple of lawyers, and two nosy aunts who asked way too many questions.

So she played the doting wife. Rested her hand on his arm. Laughed when he was sarcastic. Poured him tea with a little smile. Called him “Kei” like it wasn’t weird.

But what she didn’t expect was how he played it.

He leaned in when she spoke. Held eye contact like it meant something. Brushed her back when passing behind her. Rested his hand on her thigh under the table. Lightly. Barely. But there.

When his aunt finally said, “You two are adorable together. So natural,” Kei looked over at her, gold eyes unreadable.

“We’ve always had good chemistry,” he said coolly.

And she nearly choked on her wine.

“You were weird tonight,” she said when they finally collapsed onto opposite ends of the couch.

He didn’t look away from the TV. “We’re supposed to be married.”

“You didn’t have to touch my leg.”

“You didn’t seem to mind.”

That shut her up.

Tsukishima finally looked at her, glasses slightly low on his nose, hair still neat from the day.

“Should I stop?”

Her breath caught.

He hadn’t moved, hadn’t changed his expression. But his voice had dropped just slightly. That dry, teasing cadence turning velvety.

She swallowed. “No. I just…” She glanced away. “You’re good at pretending.”

A pause.

“Who says I’m pretending?”

That night, they slept in separate rooms. As usual.

But she didn’t fall asleep for hours.

Because Kei Tsukishima had never been the type to flirt. Or touch casually. Or look at her like her robe was slipping too far down her shoulder.

Which meant... something had changed.

Or maybe, it had always been there—quiet and buried beneath years of sarcasm and subtle glances.

TWO WEEK LATER, they had to pose for another round of "happy couple" photos for an official document. Legal proof. Matching outfits. Tsukishima in a sharp black turtleneck and blazer. She wore white.

Nothing bridal. Just soft and simple.

But when he stepped beside her and placed his hand lightly at the small of her back, she felt her knees wobble.

The photographer said, “Maybe lean your heads together?”

They obeyed.

His mouth was just next to her ear now. His breath warm. Familiar.

“You’re shaking,” he whispered.

“Shut up.”

He chuckled, low and lazy. “You look good in white.”

She flushed.

“You look good in black.”

He turned his head slightly. So close. Almost touching.

“Is this the part where I kiss you?”

She hesitated.

But before she could answer, the camera clicked.

That night, things felt… different.

Dinner was quieter. The tension tighter.

She dropped a spoon. He picked it up.

Their fingers touched. He didn’t pull away.

Neither did she.

She found him in the kitchen later, leaning against the counter with his sleeves rolled up, glasses off, sipping water like it wasn’t criminal how attractive he was.

“You keep looking at me,” he said without turning.

“You’re standing in my kitchen looking like that,” she replied.

He smirked. “I thought it was our kitchen.”

She crossed her arms. “Do you enjoy this?”

“Define ‘this.’”

“Flirting with me. Pretending to want me.”

He set the glass down slowly.

“Who said I’m pretending?”

And then he walked toward her. Slowly. Carefully. Until there was barely air between them.

“You think I’ve been fake this whole time?” he asked, voice low.

“Haven’t you?”

“No.” His hand came up, fingers brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Have you?”

She couldn’t lie. Not with the way his eyes bore into her. Not when her skin tingled where he touched her.

“No.”

He didn’t smile. Not exactly. But something softened in his face.

“So what now?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

He leaned in slowly, mouth near her ear.

“We stop pretending.”

And then he kissed her.

Softly at first. Testing. Curious.

Then with pressure. Intention. His hand slid to her waist, the other to her jaw, angling her head as he deepened the kiss.

It wasn’t messy. Wasn’t desperate.

It was controlled. Confident. Like he’d been waiting for this.

And when he finally pulled back, just barely, breath warm against her lips, he muttered,

“You taste like cinnamon.”

“You taste like trouble.”

“You married me. That’s on you.”

They didn’t sleep in separate rooms that night.

And it wasn’t about paperwork anymore.

© eriace ;; don’t repost my works.

[iloveladybuglucy]

*slaps a messy sketch and some next gens onto your desk and explodes*

got the urge to design some invincible next gens, enjoy ig :P

heres a familiar face! ive tweaked a couple things w her design and fleshed out her relationship w her family some :]

 Vega Grayson Age: 9 (Next Gen Timeline) Parents: Mark Grayson (Indomitable) & Rex Grayson (née Sloan) (Rex Splode) Species: Human (3/4) -Viltrumite (1/4) Hybrid Nickname(s): Vee, Starfire (only by Rex)

Personality:

Bold & Fearless: Vega is never afraid to speak her mind, often surprising adults with her confidence and sharp wit.

Inquisitive: Always asking questions, she wants to understand everything from science to superheroes to why her dad makes weird faces when he’s stressed.

Empathetic: While she has a wild streak, Vega is emotionally perceptive and quick to comfort someone in pain—often before they even realize they need it.

Master of Sass: She inherited Rex’s quick comebacks and Mark’s sarcasm, often combining both into clever humor.

Family Dynamics:

Mark Grayson (Dad): Vega admires Mark’s strength and compassion but isn’t afraid to call him out if he’s being overprotective or mopey. She thinks his superhero name is kinda lame, but secretly loves watching old footage of him.

Rex Grayson (Papa): She’s fiercely attached to Rex, who she shares a mischievous streak with. He’s the parent she confides in when she’s feeling overwhelmed, and she often brags that she has “the coolest Papa in the world.”

Debbie Grayson (Grandma): Vega is extremely close to Debbie, who treats her like a partner in crime. Debbie often jokes that Vega is “too sharp for her own good,” while sneaking her candy.

Nolan Grayson (The Weird Guy Who Never Smiles That Dad Hates): Being that Mark had long since cut contact with Nolan, Vega hasn't officially been introduced to him. However, as luck would have it she bumps into him in the markets of Talescria and is instantly curious when he's chased off by her parents...who is this weirdo and why does everyone from Earth hate him?

Strengths & Interests:

Superhero Obsessed: Vega reads Mark's old Seance Dog comics and has suckered her grandma into buying her tons of toys and sweatshirts.

Fast Learner: Though not as physically powerful as some Viltrumites, she learns at lightning speed—especially when motivated by competition.

Weaknesses:

Impulse Control: Like both her dads, she sometimes leaps before she looks.

Stubborn: Once she believes something, it takes a lot to convince her otherwise, even when she’s clearly wrong.

Distractability: Vega struggles with staying on-task and has to be reminded to pay attention during school and training.

Roanan the Alien

Age: 11 (Next Gen Timeline) Species: Unopan Hybrid Parents: Allen the Alien & General Telia Homeworld: Talescria (primary), with frequent visits to Earth and Coalition outposts

Personality:

Strategic Mind: Ronan has inherited Telia’s tactical precision and Allen’s analytical mindset. Even in games, he’s the kid planning five steps ahead.

Awkwardly Sincere: Raised by two blunt, duty-driven parents, Ronan speaks his mind in a way that can be a little too honest—but never unkind. He’s working on "tone of voice" with mixed success.

Bookish Adventurer: He devours Coalition mission logs, alien history, and old Earth comic books. He wants to be a hero—but first, he wants to understand everything about what that means.

Loyal to a Fault: He’d walk into a plasma storm for his friends, especially Paulie who he’s fiercely protective of, even when he insists he doesn’t need it.

Family Dynamics:

Allen the Alien (Dad): Allen is Roanan’s emotional anchor. He encourages kindness and individuality, often reminding Roanan that “being a hero is more than just being strong.” They have a shared love of Earth culture and comics.

General Telia (Mom): Telia is a firm but loving figure. She believes in raising Ronan to think critically and lead with honor. Though sometimes intense, she always makes time to talk to him like an equal.

Strengths & Interests:

Tactical Thinking: He’s scary good at strategy games and simulations, often outwitting older kids.

Multilingual: Speaks multiple alien dialects fluently, thanks to Coalition tutoring and his parents’ background.

Curious About Earth: Though he was born on Talescria, Ronan is fascinated by Earth culture, especially music, snacks, and weird idioms he doesn’t fully understand.

Inventive: Loves making things out of spare parts—usually weird, creative devices like “empathy translators” or “friendship shields.”

Weaknesses:

Emotionally Naive: Struggles to process feelings like jealousy, fear, and guilt, and sometimes freezes when emotions run high.

People-Pleaser: Tries hard to make everyone proud—especially his mom—and puts pressure on himself to be “perfect.”

Socially Stiff: He’s not the most graceful in casual settings. He’ll recite Coalition protocols at a birthday party without realizing it’s weird.

Overthinks Everything: Decisions—even small ones—take forever because he’s running every scenario in his head.

Trivia:

His name is a play off of his father's voice actor's (Seth Rogan) last name.

He has two eyes, preferring to keep his smaller one on his forehead closed.

Paulie Elias Somner

Age: 10 (Next-Gen Timeline) Species: Human Parents: Samantha Eve Wilkins (Atom Eve) & Caelum Somner (Reverie) [OC]

Bio:

Paulie is the introspective, sharp-witted son of two of the most emotionally complex and quietly powerful people in the world. Born into a legacy of heroes, Paulie stands out for one simple but soul-shaping reason: he’s entirely human. No powers, no enhancements, no special abilities. Just Paulie.

But that doesn’t mean he’s ordinary.

Personality:

Paulie is observant and introspective, with a dry sense of humor and a biting wit he uses both as armor and sword. He’s naturally perceptive, often noticing tension before anyone says a word.

Despite his intelligence and emotional maturity, Paulie is deeply conflicted. He harbors quiet resentment over his powerlessness, something he’s internalized as a failing. He loves his parents, but it’s hard not to feel like he missed out on something vital, growing up in the literal and emotional orbit of superpowered beings. He sometimes asks himself if his parents see him as a disappointment, even though they’ve never implied or thought it.

He’s loyal to a fault, protective of those he loves, and much more idealistic than he lets on. A part of him does want to help people like his parents do, but he’s unsure what that looks like for someone without powers. He feels pulled between proving himself and learning to accept himself.

Strengths:

Emotionally intuitive, especially with others in distress

Gifted writer and storyteller—he journals religiously and secretly writes fiction

Unshakable loyalty and resilience—he keeps going, even when he feels lost

Deep empathy, though he hides it behind sarcasm

Weaknesses:

Self-doubt and feelings of inadequacy

Prone to bottling emotions until they erupt

Often pushes people away when he’s hurting

Overcompensates by trying to be the “smartest” in the room

Relationships:

Eve (Mom): Paulie idolizes Eve more than he lets on. They’re similar in their tendency to put others first, but he’s also frustrated by how much of herself she gave up to be a hero. Sometimes he wonders if she regrets not having a "normal" life—and whether he was worth it. Their relationship is tender but full of unspoken questions.

Caelum (Dad): With Caelum, Paulie shares a quiet, layered connection. They understand each other emotionally, often communicating more with looks and silences than words. Caelum is one of the few people Paulie doesn’t feel the need to “perform” for—but he also knows his dad is holding back a lot, which makes Paulie feel like he has to carry the emotional weight sometimes.

Character Arc:

Paulie’s biggest struggle is identity. In a world of powers, legacy, and extraordinary people, he feels like a footnote. He’s not sure where he belongs or what he's meant to do, especially when people constantly expect him to follow in his parents’ footsteps. His journey is one of self-definition—figuring out who he is, not in spite of his lack of powers, but because of it.

Trivia:

He was named after two very important people in Eve's life: her bioligcal mother, Polly, and Dr. Elias Brandyworth.

Inherited his pink irises and love for the color from his grandma Polly.

Loves when his mom tells him stories about her real family; it makes Paulie wish he got to meet them.

~~~

anyways do any of yall have any invincible next gens youd like to share bc i love that shit sm

[nightingale2004]

Teen wolf next generation: Sterek version

Let's meet the Stilinski Hale kids

Talia Erica Stilinski Hale

Faceclaim: Brianna Hildebrand

First born daughter of Derek and Stiles

Named after Derek's mother and former beta

Takes after Derek. She is a werewolf and is the future Alpha of her pack

Such an overprotective big sister

Loves her leather jackets

Speaks Spanish and a little polish

Works with Derek at his auto shop

☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆

Benjamin "Ben/Benji" Noah Stilinski Hale

Faceclaim: Cole Sprouse

Second oldest of the Stilinski Hale's

He takes after Stiles in sarcasm and the love of mysteries but can be pretty intimidating like Derek and older sister.

He is also a werewolf, and he is also pretty blunt

He is very weird, but he embraces it.

Stiles works at the FBI, running his own operation that looks into supernatural related cases

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Miguel Vernon Stilinski Hale

Faceclaim: Tyler Young

He is the middle child

Big loner and antisocial. A bit of an emo boy (so takes after Derek)

He also takes after Stiles since he randomly knows random facts about pretty much anything

Incredibly smart

He is a spark and future emissary of his pack

He had inherited Derek's brooding face

Also uses color coded highlighters and string for his assignments

He is jealous of his werewolf siblings but loves them all very much

Stiles and Miguel are more close with each other

Ben and Miguel help out their dad (from the distance) with his cases

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

Claudia Laura Stilinski Hale

Faceclaim: Sara Waisglass

Younger child of Stiles and Derek

Named after Stiles's mother and Derek's late older sister

She's a sweetheart, and everyone loves her

Older twin to Eli (hates him, but loves him at the same time)

She is also a spark and like Miguel, she is also an emissary in training

Both her and Miguel are trained under Deaton

She's a cheerleader in Beacon Hills high

She is Noah's favorite (🤫🤫 don't tell anyone)

Can get away with anything

She and Miguel speak fluent Polish

She and her siblings all live in the new old Hale house that Derek rebuilt from scratch

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Elias "Eli" Mitchell Stilinski Hale

Faceclaim: Vince Mattis

Troublemaker in the family and pup in the family (he hates the pup part)

Youngest twin (believe it or not)

Annoys, his siblings, and his parents to no end

Secretly jealous of all his siblings but loves them at the same time (never tells them that, but they know)

Takes after Stiles by.............A LOT

Him and Claudia have twin telepathy and can sense what the other is feeling

He's not the greatest lacrosse player, but he loves doing it anyway

He loves it when his family comes to see him play and when his twin cheers for him

His siblings cover him a lot (I mean A LOT) since he gets in trouble (A LOT)

He is closest to Stiles and Claudia

That's all I got for the Stilinski Hale pack. Hope you teen wolf and Sterek lovers enjoy ❤️🐺🦊

[waves-after-dark]

i have a hard time understanding azula as zuko's enemy in post-a:tla content. i prefer a socially-awkward azula struggling with depression and anxiety, using sarcasm, dry humor that rarely lands well and hyper fixating on hobbies to make up for the fact she has none outside of her appearance, firebending and the war room. i still want her to be a pain in zuko's side and annoy him.

i do not think their relationship would ever be on trusting, good terms but i think what would be interesting is that by having azula as a quasi-advisor, zuko learns more about himself and what he stands for.

i read a post about this that everything azula would say zuko would do the opposite or something like it because he knows her motives. i just think azula would be helpful in respect to knowing the key players of zuko's court because he inherited them from ozai.

the concern is azula would manipulate them to support her as fire lord.

i can see reasons why this would not happen and reasons how it could.

at this point, i am biased because i'd rather see azula exhausted from her father's imprisonment, the loss of the war and zuko taking the throne. that she would rather choose the long, hard path of redemption instead of a quick, deranged fix like being a vigilante to zuko and his regime because, well, i don't see azula giving up palace comforts for rummaging in the woods

we could have had more azula from the beach episode to enjoy is all i'm saying

[therollingriceball]

the gambler's daughter

In which Aventurine's daughter (with a wife who is much my personal yume OC but will not be named here), got stuck with Dr. Ratio somehow. A more platonic drabble.

This is a more personal drabble I wanted to write with my personal OCxcanon universe, but I'll share it here too because I liked the concept.

----

Veritas Ratio should've guessed in advance that gambler would've been an overprotective parent, to a daughter even more, to the point that there's not much people he would entrust with his daughter-- and that category happened to be him.

"Even though I'm not a babysitter."

The doctor sighed, somehow alerting the blonde girl currently reading a book slightly more advanced than her age of four years old.

Pavelina--- how the girl is named by her mother--- looked up to him with her curious eyes as she closed her book after putting down a bookmark. While the coloring does resemble her father, she is far from inheriting his shape of eyes and instead looked more like her mother's, making her somewhat different from an Avgin.

"Oh. It just happened that I wanted to talk to you so I asked Dad specifically, Professor." Pavelina said rather calmly. "Well, uh. There's also Auntie Topaz, but I'm not good with a few of her pets. The cats are alright, though, I'd love to meet them, but I can't handle some others who happened to really likes me...."

Despite her mature demeanor, she still have a childish side to her, it seems. It does relief Ratio somehow-- though he would never admit.

"I see. Do you have a question you want to ask me or something?"

"Hmm... A few, actually." Rushing down back to the bookmark on the book, Pavelina pointed at a word or two she couldn't recognize. "What does this word means?"

"Ah. That's...."

....As he answered her curious questions one by one, Ratio pondered to himself. The more the man talked to the child, the more he's sure she's rather different than the Aventurine that he knows. It may because of her mother, who can be somewhat a curious student around him and asked him variety of questions--- but then, that woman was a loud one, having totally different behaviors than her daughter.

"Have people said you're a different person than your parents already?" A lace of sarcasm were there, but Ratio didn't expect the child to understand at all. Pavelina stumbled upon her words for a while, stopping to look back. However, it only took less than a minute.

"Well. I guess people said it a lot. I can see why, though."

"Good for you. Your parents can be such a menace at times."

Pavelina chuckled softly at Ratio's sigh, as if sympathizing.

"Right. Professor, there's one more thing."

"What is it?"

"How much of a chance is there for my twin younger siblings to be an Avgin?"

Ratio's eyes widened, as he felt like it's the only question that matters today from this child. It was like a moment of 'eureka'. After all, the reason why she's here is because her mother had been in hospital to give birth to her younger siblings, and her father, anxious as he is, have to be accompanying her.

"I'd say there's a fair chance."

"I'm glad if that's the case. Dad always looked so lonely."

Then there's silence. The two of them doesn't say much more after that sentence, and Ratio thought of leaving her to continue reading her book on her own. But he somehow felt like he couldn't. So instead, the thing he could do was;

"When you grow up, come to my class as my student."

"...Is that fine by you? I think it's still a while until I could've been in college.... Will you still be teaching by then?"

"Who knows. But I'd rather have a student like you than your parents." Ratio rolled his eyes sarcastically. "Besides, you're diligent and you have potential."

[idrawweirdstuffnominors]

I know you usually do all the freaky stuff, but…could I ask for some Josh x reader comfort?? 🙏🙏 I love ur work sm

(Lol no problem I got chu. And thank youuuu

---

Title: "Kick Me While I'm Down (Or Up)" – Girl Dad Edition

Josh woke up to the sound of you groaning—long, low, and exasperated.

He cracked open an eye to find you sitting up in bed, scowling down at your very round belly, muttering curses like the baby inside could hear and was testing your patience on purpose.

"Okay, princess, enough," you hissed, rubbing your side. "You’ve made your point. I do need to pee every ten minutes. You don’t have to physically drive the point into my bladder."

Josh blinked the sleep from his eyes, rolled over with a grumble, and flopped his hand over to rest on your thigh. "She’s at it again?"

"She’s doing the Macarena with cleats on."

He sat up slowly, hair everywhere, blinking blearily like a man forced out of a good dream. "I love her, but I swear she’s already got your flair for dramatics."

"Oh my god, Josh."

"What? She's taking up space, making noise, being difficult—she's clearly your daughter."

You gave him a glare, but the tiredness behind it dulled the threat. He was grinning, already leaning forward to kiss your shoulder.

"Gimme the belly," he said, scooting closer. He placed a warm hand over the firm curve of your stomach just as your daughter kicked. His eyebrows rose. "She’s strong."

"She’s angry."

Josh chuckled and leaned down, pressing a kiss to the spot she’d kicked. "Alright, alright, princess. Cut your mom some slack. She's already carrying you, feeding you, crying during commercials—it’s been a lot."

You rolled your eyes but your face softened. His voice was low, warm, a bit gravelly from sleep, and it made your shoulders drop just a little.

Josh looked up at you, his hand still rubbing small, soothing circles on your belly. "You okay?"

"Just... annoyed. She won’t stop. And I’m tired. And sweaty. And puffy. I feel like a microwaved marshmallow in a bra."

He snorted. "The world’s luckiest marshmallow."

You laughed despite yourself.

Josh moved in closer, wrapping an arm around you and letting your back rest against his chest. "You wanna lie down? I’ll talk her down. Father-daughter Jedi mind trick."

"You don’t know how to do that."

"Watch me. I am very persuasive with women. Just ask your mom."

"Josh!"

He grinned but his hand never left your belly. His other one found yours, fingers lacing together easily.

"You know," he said more quietly, pressing his lips to your temple, "she's gonna be so lucky to have you. I mean, if she inherits your sarcasm, we're doomed, but still. You’re doing everything right. Even when it feels like you’re not."

You swallowed, throat suddenly tight. "What if I mess her up?"

Josh’s arms tightened slightly.

"Then I’ll balance you out by being the world’s most charming, overbearing dad. We’ll mess her up with love and sci-fi trivia."

You laughed softly. The baby kicked again, but not so hard this time. More like she was stretching. Or listening.

Josh leaned down again, whispering against your skin.

"Go to sleep, baby girl. Let your mom breathe for five minutes."

He rubbed your belly a little more. Your eyes started to close.

"Josh?"

"Yeah?"

"You’re gonna be a really good dad."

He paused. His hand stilled for just a moment before continuing.

"Yeah," he said softly. "You make it easy."

He smiled and gently pressed a kiss on your belly.

---