#Not causing it but receiving it because that's all his father ever showed

[sicklexclaws]

On some level, I find it equal parts hilarious and heartbreaking that Oscar is my muse who tries his hardest to do the best for other people and the rest of the world but is simultaneously full of the most doubt and self-loathing.

[queers-gambit]

Tell Me Every Terrible Thing

[ part one of two ]

prompt: you embark on a secret but passionate affair with the Rogue Prince, and when his wife, Rhea Royce, passes away, he chooses you to wed next - a decision that angers his niece and changes history.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!Hightower!reader only description given: red hair

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 5.6k+

note: what the fuck is this, Cherry? also two parts 'cause author gets carried away!

warnings: show spoilers, cursing, author has small bouts of feministic ideas, author also really likes the "little birds" storyline (let her live!), wonky brain is wonky, i think hurt and comfort, angst, very mild NSFW (brief female receiving oral), technically alternative timeline 'cause this goofy-ass author has an overactive imagination, #icanmakehimworse, another reader-episode-insert (this warning is for the fucking losers in my inbox).

part two: "Tell me every terrible thing you ever did, And Let Me Love You Anyway," - Edgar Allan Poe

"How angry do you think he'll be with me?"

You offered your best friend, The Realm's Delight, Crowned Heir to the Iron Throne, Princess Rhaenyra, a unamused, stale look. Sarcastically, you replied, "Oh, come now, Nyrie, why would your father be angry? It couldn't be because you rejected every suitor His Grace put before you, or even how you abruptly ended the tour with two months remaining. What father would be angry after that?"

She groaned, "I know, I know, you don't have to be so right all the bloody time. I just... I couldn't do it anymore, you saw what it was like," her head bowed and you knew the girl was truly overwhelmed by her 'job' picking a suitor.

"This was no easy feat to arrange, Princess," you spoke diplomatically, aware of the ship's crew dotting around the royal ship. "Our fathers went through much difficulty to ensure this tour's success, Princess, and I'd imagine neither will be thrilled by our early arrival."

"But it's just - "

"I know," you soothed with a knowing, sympathetic smile. Your arm extended around her, her head dropping to your shoulder for comfort. "In an ideal world, women would have a real say in their futures. Perhaps, that is what you're meant to do, Nyrie... Perhaps you're meant to break this wheel, give the other half of humanity a fighting chance against the men who have long suppressed us. Being heir is a monumental stereotype to shatter, but most women are not born into royalty and have nobody protecting or defending them."

She picked her head up to stare at you for a single moment, then nodded slowly, "That's a lot of pressure."

"Less if you pick a respectable man to help you lead," you advised softly, reaching to caress her cheek briefly. "You're to be Queen, Nyra, which means you need a King Consort that the common folk will respect, who will play his part in the courts to come. I know it's not ideal, my friend, but it's not meant to be - it's meant to be strategic." You paused, adding, "Similar to Ali marrying your father, yes? That was a strategic move on my father's end. Now it's up to you to chose your own match, to plot your own strategy."

"Who would you see me marry?"

"In truth? I'm unsure if anyone would fit the bill perfectly, so, I don't know who I could see you with. Definitely someone smart, though."

She only hummed, sighing deeply and making you frown. Before another word could be said, there came a distant screech that sounded all too familiar - though you refused to let it show that you knew this particular dragon's sound.

Nyra moved away from the ship's railing to stare longingly up into the sky, and about a minute later, without visible sight of any threat, Ser Criston Cole was shouting, "Take cover!"

And then, like a bird swooping to snatch a fish, a crimson dragon descended from the cover of clouds - seemingly materializing from nowhere. The large, long, slithery beast with wings knocked into the ship's main mast; jolting everyone on board enough to topple over.

You tried to stabilize the Princess, but you lost balance and dropped to your knees as Cole rushed to help Rhaenyra to her feet. When able, you looked to the sky; grinning to yourself as you recognized the retreating Blood Wyrm. Seeing the distinct form of Caraxes made you giddy with anticipation, however, that was short lived as you clocked Rhaenyra's gaze of awe and wonder.

It seems she was excited for her uncle's return, too. Though, it won't be till later that you learn the extent of her adoration.

Less than an hour later, the ship was docking and you escorted Princess Rhaenyra from aboard; her guards surrounding you both as you trekked to the Red Keep. "Just... Perhaps try to stay invisible," you advised your friend, arm-in-arm. "The King won't be pleased if you interrupt court, even just by being there. With luck, we won't be noticed."

She agreed softly, continuing on. She started fiddling with her necklace, the piece of Valyrian Steel jewelry that her uncle, Daemon, had gifted her years ago before Queen Aemma passed away. Your lover had told you the Princess was owed a piece of her Valyrian history, and since he could not gift a sword to a young lady, the necklace was chosen, crafted, and gifted.

When you returned to the Red Keep, it was just in time for court to be called to session and your friend was all too eager to join. "Nyra," you warned, hand in hers.

"It's all right," she assured, "come, it must be Daemon - "

"No, I should return to my chamber. Don't piss your father off too much," you warned her with a smirk, watching her grin in response, squeeze your hand, and then file into the Throne Room with the other members of court.

You retreated to your old room, sighing in relief when you discovered nothing was disturbed. "My Lady!" A voice gasped at the open door. You glanced over, smiling at Milah, your usual handmaiden, and opening your arms when she rushed forward. "You're not supposed to be back yet! Oh!" She tutted, looking you over. "I'll get your bed made and - "

"No, it's fine - "

"Nonsense, let me do this," she insisted, already busying around the room. "I was wondering why they were bringing things into the foyer - must be all the Princess' luggage, hmm?"

"Yeah," you sighed, helping her strip the bed and change the sheets. "It was strange," you admitted, "the men, I mean, and the way they all competed for her hand in marriage."

"Did you expect anything else?"

"I did not think they'd honestly kill one another. Though it was more so their pride than the Princess they fought over."

Milah smirked, "Sounds about right. Well, what of you? Anyone catch your eye?"

"Of course not," you sighed a little sadly.

"Still hung on the Prince, aren't you, my Lady?"

"Perhaps," you mused.

You spent the better part of an hour gossiping with Milah before she had to go grab a few things, but promised she'd send your belongings up as soon as possible. You thanked her, walked her out, assuring you were just going to get a bath or something, and just as you shut and locked your chamber door, gasped when a pair of hands seized your waist.

"Daemon!" You hissed when you saw the short, white locks of your surprise guest. "The bloody fuck is wrong with you?" You demanded, turning in his grip to shove your hands into his chest. "What're you doing here? Want to get us caught?"

"Three years," he grit, gathering you in his arms to heave upward and force your legs around his waist if you wanted to keep balance, "three fucking years I've been gone - away - missing you, do not deprive me a moment more."

"Someone will come looking," you whispered, caressing his face as your forehead met his. "And perhaps I want a moment to just look at you, 's been years," you breathed. "You cut your hair," you commented, running your hands through the short strands.

"I cut my hair," he agreed softly, just holding you close and tight.

"I like it... But I'll miss braiding it."

"I will, too," he admitted. He nuzzled closer, inhaling your neck sharply, boldly licking a flat tongue up your pulse point to make you shudder lightly.

"Daemon," you whispered, pulling his head back so you could look in his eyes, beaming, "I missed you, too."

"Viserys is arranging a lunch for my return," he informed, turning so he could approach your newly-made four-poster bed; dropping you flat on your back with a grin. "Which roughly translates into only allotting a few minutes to make up for lost time."

"We will have time later - "

"I overheard Viserys saying he and Otto intend to take evening tea with you regarding the Princess' return from tour," he eased, reaching to spread your legs, bunching your skirts. "But I will call upon you tomorrow? Yes? Officially?"

"If you insist," you teased, letting him finally descend to smash his lips against yours. In truth, you were used to his empty promises of 'calling on you officially' because of his marriage to Lady Royce, but it was his way of telling you without words that he wished it was you instead of Rhea.

Daemon groaned, melting into your form; breathing heavily. "I've missed you past words," he whispered, nuzzling your nose with his. "But for now, I just need a taste - "

"We don't have time - "

"We'll be fast. Tell me, love," he nipped your pouting lips, soothing his tongue over the puckered skin, "have you taken another in my absence?"

"Of course not," you hissed in offense.

"Good," he nodded, kissing you sweetly.

"Need I ask?"

"There were no concubines," he mused, "though, they were offered, I did not accept. So, we'll be quick - faster than quick," he promised, pawing at your undergarments and exposing your dampening cunt to his sight. "I'll take my time with you later, but for now, I need this," he all but seethed before diving tongue-first into your core.

His spit mixed with your arousal, creating a slippery mess.

"Shit," you hissed, grabbing his shorter hair as his tongue flattened to lap at your entrance, dripping in your essence. One of his hands held your thighs apart for his access, the other releasing his cock from the pair of breeches he wore. Daemon groaned at the taste of you, lapping wildly like a man starved, and stroking his bare cock in rhythm with his ministrations.

It truly took no time at all once he found your clit and sucked mercilessly, the hand holding your thighs now extended up to paw roughly at your tits. Alternating his tongue around your sloppy cunt added to your heightening pleasure, swirling his tongue as he bobbed and shook his head - making an absolute mess, and causing your climax to shatter your mind and soul.

Your legs twitched, spine curled, stomach contracted as your arms quivered from the rush of adrenaline; hand slapped over your mouth to keep your moans to a minimum. You grabbed his hair so tightly, he groaned in mock pain; legs then contracting to a suffocating grip around his ears and head while Daemon met his own end, spending in his hand whilst milking you for all you had.

He panted with satisfaction when he pulled back, grinning at you in mischief when you released your hold on him. "Good fuckin' girl," he praised, standing to his feet only to slither over top of you. "Like not a day's gone by, huh?" He whispered, kissing you messily, smearing your cum on your tongue; grinding his bare cock into your recovering core to make you shudder. "Take a moment, then get ready," he whispered. "I expect to see you at the celebrations... Wear that dress I got you for your fifth-and-twentieth nameday," he smirked, adding, "if you'd so please, my darling."

You chuckled, "You magically learned manners during the war?"

"Perhaps," he mused, pecking your lips again.

"Hey, Daemon?"

"What is it, my sweet one?" He asked, seeing the sincerity in your eyes and hearing the seriousness in your voice - something in his heart jumping.

"Would you tell me about it all later? The war, I mean? Would you tell me what you've endured?"

"I do not think it's a tale befitting a lady's ears."

"Please? I wish to know..."

"Then I will tell you," he promised, "but only if you wear that dress."

Your eyes rolled in humor as Daemon stood. You watched him wipe his cum on a spare rag, tossing it away, and after one last kiss, was leaving out of the secret passageway's door. Taking another moment, you finally stood on weak legs and unlocked the main door, preparing how you could for your day before Milah returned.

After arriving at the luncheon, you made a beeline for your father, greeting him happily before explaining your surprise reappearance. He filled you in on that day's court, explaining that Prince Daemon was back; and you felt almost guilty for the way your skin was still set ablaze from your lover's earlier visit.

For all Otto's faults, he was still your father, and you felt guilty for sneaking around with Daemon behind his back. Your father ushered you off to mingle, insisting he was only there for the King; and no, he wasn't hungry. So, you parted ways with a chaste peck to your forehead; the feeling of his scratchy beard lingering on your guilt-riddled flesh.

"Sister, what a surprise!" Alicent happily distracted by greeting you with a bright grin. You adjusted course to approach the Queen, King, and newly-returned Prince. "Oh, what a lovely dress you've chosen," she complimented with ease, reaching for your hand. "You always do have the best eye for clothes, I feel as if need you to live in my wardrobe, tell me what to wear everyday."

"Thank you, Your Grace, I'd be honored," You smiled at her, holding her hand, looking to the others. "My King," you curtsied to Viserys, glancing at Daemon and bowing your head respectfully, "my Prince, how nice to see you, again. Welcome home."

"Thank you, my Lady," he smirked. "Might I welcome you home as well? I hear you've been gone from the Capital."

You hummed with a nod, "I was on tour with the Princess, my Prince. I've only arrived home today, as well - though not by dragonback."

He eyed you up and down, offering, "I must agree with the Queen, my Lady, that is a lovely dress you've chosen."

You pet the black material, smiling genuinely, "Thank you, my Prince. It's one of my favorites."

"I can see why, given how beautiful you look," he flirted, and from behind you and Alicent, you could hear your father scoff.

"Thank you," you whispered. "What conversation did I rudely interrupt before?"

"Oh, nothing of importance," Daemon told you, looking to his brother and your sister.

"Because we spoke of how Daemon, here, was always Mother's favorite," Viserys grinned. "Do you want to know, my Lady? About how much Mother adored Daemon?" He asked you, his little brother trying to drone over him - but Viserys was determined to tell you the examples he could think of regarding his brother's favoritism.

You giggled from both Viserys' stories and Daemon's evident embarrassment.

However, almost awkwardly, on Alicent's other side, Princess Rhaenyra approached the group and stood amongst you. You knew the King must be unhappy with his daughter, but did not voice any opinion since you were not the source of disappointment at the moment. Instead, you listened to the King's complimenting words to his brother; thinking it was interesting that Daemon was so egotistical and yet, flushed under his brother's praise. Princess Rhaenyra waited until a natural lull to tell Daemon, "Congratulations on your victory."

It was awkward as Viserys just glared at her, Rhaenyra's expression falling short. Daemon covered smoothly, "Thank you, Princess."

Trying to save the tension, your sweet sister offered, "Perhaps Prince Daemon would care for a tour of the gallery? He hasn't yet seen the new tapestries gifted to you by Norvos and Qohor."

Viserys nodded and whispered, "Oh, oh," mockingly. He asked his brother, "Would you like to see the tapestries?" But by the end, he broke character and laughed with his brother; the latter who whom you knew spat on trivial things - such as tapestries and such. Through their laughter, Viserys proclaimed to his wife, "He has no interest in such things!"

"But thank you for the offer, sister," you smiled at her, trying to reassure her when her husband laughed in her face. "The tapestries are very beautiful, you've chosen a grand place to display them. I saw them on my way here."

"I'd like to see them," Rhaenyra jumped in, seemingly to Alicent's aid - something she'd not done in an age considering the tension between them. You just smiled politely, seeing the way Viserys dropped his grin when he looked at his daughter with distain while the rest of you looked away sheepishly.

"Then you should not deprive yourself."

Rhaenyra offered a pained, pursed smile, "I shall enjoy them alone."

You, Alicent, and Daemon all stared after Rhaenyra with varying degrees of pity as she walked away to sit solemnly by herself on a distant bench while Viserys went on about his and Daemon's youth; over Daemon being their mother's favorite. However, Alicent excused herself to follow the saddened Rhaenyra, perhaps to offer the Princess comfort in her father's anger. The King looked ready to protest, but instead just shook his head in disappointment.

Viserys turned you and Daemon away from the sight of the girls, showing off the Godswood in bloom; your father approaching you three stiffly. "Your Grace," he bowed to Viserys, then nodded in resepct, "my Prince. Daughter," he smiled, trying to instigate, "how was tour with Princess Rhaenyra?"

"Oh, as eventful as a Royal Tour can be," you smiled, deflecting, "though I must admit, while seemingly exciting at some parts, I'm sure it pales terribly in comparison to the Prince's adventures in the Stepstones." Viserys smirking broadly at your redirection. "I do wonder, what brought the war to an end? We've heard rumor, but surely the Prince might know for sure what brought the Triarchy down?"

"Surely," The King nodded, looking to Daemon expectedly.

The Rogue Prince smirked and readjusted his stance, deflecting, "Perhaps a conversation for later."

"Oh, come now, brother!"

"Your Grace," Otto interrupted, "I do apologize, but there are matters at hand that require your attention. The Tully's still - "

He sighed and waved your father off, "Yes, yes... Well," Viserys nodded, "I'll call upon you both later."

"Your Grace," you instantly curtsied.

"Your Grace," Daemon bowed right after. Viserys smiled and nodded back at you both, patted his brother's shoulder, turned, and when he walked away, Otto followed with a single look to you and Daemon.

"Daughter," he bid curtly - and you read between the lines. He really wanted to say, "Do not linger around the Prince."

When the King moved, his usual procession of advisors, guards, and entourage followed right after. You sighed as almost all of the Godswood cleared out, Daemon eyeing you as he readjusted his stance; subtly reaching out to pet your hand with his fingers.

"Daemon," you warned quietly.

"Nobody is watching us," he smirked. "You look beautiful, love. I'll have to buy you more dresses, you wear them so well."

"I cannot believe I will not see you tonight," you whispered with a pout.

"I will call on you tomorrow," he reminded.

You opened your mouth, but another voice answered. "Sister," Alicent called, you looking over and smiling innocently. You caught sight of Princess Rhaenyra glaring at her uncle, but didn't think much of it.

"I look forward to your tales from the Stepstones," you told him calmly, offering a curtesy.

He took your hand, pressing a soft kiss to the back, "I look forward to any time spect together, my Lady."

You hummed in contentment before stepping away, instantly taking Alicent's arm when close enough. "What was that about? Daemon looks so smitten!" She whispered with a growing grin.

"He was being polite," you whispered back, "and simply being Daemon - you know how he is. He's got three years of mischief to make up for."

"I see," she giggled. "He's quite handsome with the short hair, isn't he? It suits him well."

"I have to agree," you gossiped. "I can see why the ladies of court have missed him so."

Your younger sister giggled, smiling at you, offering, "I've missed you greatly. Come... I wish to hear of your time away."

"Oh, sister, please, I've only just returned."

"But... Wouldn't you tell me before the King?" She whispered.

You paused, then nodded, "Got me there, sister-dearest."

"We'll take tea together," she decided, leading you around the Keep until she saw a familiar face she knew. "Talya, my sister and I wish to take tea in the gardens, please. Privately, of course, so do not announce it," she directed the handmaiden. "We'll be in the gazebo in the rose gardens, bring tea, sandwiches, and my sister's always loved those peach crumbles?"

"I know the dessert," she nodded, smiling at you. "Can I interest you, Your Grace, in anything specific?"

"No, but bring enough for us both. Come, sister."

You three parted ways, Alicent leading you to the gardens as promised. She dismissed anyone in the area, even telling her guards to wait at the front hedges to give you ideal privacy while deeper in the roses at the gazebo. While sitting, you exchanged gossip about what happened while you were away, Alicent happy to catch you up because she was happy to finally have a friend, even if it were a sister, back in her corner.

You were happy, too.

While you loved Rhaenyra, the tension between her and Ali made you feel in the middle despite both parties assuring you "you weren't". Nyra was a good friend, your best, even! But it was something about your sister that was calming and assuring. She was trustworthy to a fault, but she was still your strongest pillar.

As Talya dressed your table with tea, lemon water, sandwiches, fruits, and other foods (including the peach crumbles), you giggled at Ali's retelling of whatever failed proposals occurred this past season you were away. When alone, at last, Ali turned to you in her padded chair and asked, "Tell me in truth, how was the tour? Why did you return early?"

"In truth, sister, vying men made the Princess uncomfortable. She did not need the two months more, she knew she was unhappy with the men so far presented to her."

Alicent sighed, "So, who does she intend to marry?"

"Yes," a new voice agreed, you both jumping in shock and looking up to see Viserys approaching with your father behind him. "Who does my daughter intend to wed, Lady Hightower?"

"Your Grace," you uttered, both you and Alicent standing in respect to bow your heads.

"Please, please," he permitted you both to sit, taking the lone chair across the table as your father remained standing. "I only wish for the unfiltered truth. I know what is said, I know what is reported, I know..." He sighed, "I know what my daughter might say, but please, Lady Hightower, what is the truth of it?"

"The truth, Your Grace, is that Rhaenyra was overwhelmed. Perhaps it was too long for her that she eventually, I'm not sure, shut down? She did not care towards the end which men was presented, she was overwhelmed with the options and pace at which everything moved."

"Kings and Princes before her have done the same, many Queens and Princesses embarking on their tours to find proper suitors," Otto reminded. "Why was this different, my Lady?"

"Because she is the first," you reminded. "Never before has a woman been named heir - she holds a different responsibility. Perhaps having everything thrown at her was too much, she has to filter through lesser men that would be King Consort. Nobody stood out, she became discouraged, and honestly, Your Grace?" You spoke earnestly, "I think it just made her sad. She did not want to disappoint you by choosing a man not worthy of being her King, so, she would rather face your anger in coming home early."

Alicent frowned but nodded to herself.

Otto adverted his eyes.

Viserys looked dejected, but sighed, "I see... Thank you for your words, my Lady, truly, you've always been a trustworthy advisor to the Queen, Princess, and I."

"It's the least I can do, Your Grace, since you and Queen Aemma - you - you were so kind to me when Mother passed. And Rhaenyra - to both Alicent and I - she was a true friend. I am in debt to you, Your Grace, and whatever I can do, be it just a simple different perspective, I am happy to provide."

"Well," he considered, "in the spirit of your unfiltered perspective, who would you see Rhaenyra marry?"

You blinked in shock, "Oh, Your Grace, I-I am not qualified to say."

"You serve as my Master of Whispers, do you not?" He smirked. "Speak, please."

You sighed deeply. With a small gulp, you blinked twice, then admitted, "I do not think my opinion matters, but... It would make sense to marry her to Ser Laenor Velaryon, would it not? He's a warrior who survived the Stepstones, is of Valyrian stock and blood, rides the dragon, Seasmoke. He's kind, brave, true, unmarried, heir to Driftmark. I think when it comes to filling the position of King Consort, Ser Laenor Velaryon would make a fine candidate."

Apparently, this was all Viserys needed to hear.

You could not sleep that night. You could not explain why, but something foul was in the air and prevented you from drifting off. So, you chose to browse your private library, select a literary favorite, and stroll the deadened halls of the Red Keep; reading by flickering torch light.

Good thing you were up and out, because one of your Little Birds chirped at you from the shadows. You looked around to see nobody in the hall, but another chirp directed your attention to a darkened alcove. "Hmm, oh, Kaela," you hummed, approaching her slowly and bending at the waist. "What is it, child?"

"I came as fast as I could."

"What's wrong?"

"I've seen something - something you'll want to know," she glanced up and down the hall, "but not anyone else."

"Come," you whispered, pushing her further back into the dark and sheltering yourselves safely. Once knelt before her, you asked the child, "All right. What is it you have seen, little one?"

"Do not get angry, my Lady..."

"I promise I won't," you spoke softly, confused - you never got angry at your Little Birds... Why start now?

"I-I saw... I saw the Prince Daemon and... Princess Rhaenyra."

You nodded slowly, asking quietly, "Where?"

"In the city, in a pleasure house."

You blinked, "And what were they doing?"

"What grown-ups do."

"I see. They were coupling?"

She shrugged, "No, just kissing, but it stopped fast. He left her there."

"He left her there? In the pleasure house?"

The little girl nodded. "The Prince looked sad... When the Princess tried to kiss him again, he pulled away... Then he left."

"Where did he go? After?"

She blinked, frowning, "My brother, Grenn, said he saw him at the pubs - but he was always on the move, very drunk. I came here right away."

"Good girl," you smiled, offering her whatever Gold Dragons from the pouch you usually kept on your person under your robe for times like this. "Where will you be tomorrow evening? I will bring you and Grenn supper."

She smiled, "We can meet you at the dock!"

"The dock?"

"He likes watching the boats."

"The docks, then. By the Fisherman's Pier?"

"No, Grenn like the Harper's Pier. They're not there around supper, they're still out at sea."

"Harper's Pier for supper," you agreed. "Go on."

The little girl looked around before scampering off down a different passageway and you stood from your knelt position with a stony look of tentative contemplation on your face. With a deep breath, you did the only thing you thought you could... You went to your father.

With a rapid knock at his chamber door, it took a moment or two before he was opening it - still dressed. "What is it, daughter?" He asked gruffly. "It's late, this should wait till morning."

"The castle is about to wake - "

"I know and I've much to attend to - "

"Father," you hissed, glancing up the hall.

He sighed and let you in, "What is it?"

"I carry scandalous news," you muttered, his door's lock echoing around you. "About the Princess Rhaenyra."

He turned to you sharply, you taking a step back in surprise. "You... Know?"

"About her sneaking around in a pleasure house?"

Otto frowned, "Do you know with who?"

You could not tell him, so you answered, "No, just that she was seen in disguise."

"Who told you this?"

"One of my Birdies."

"All right," he decided, nodding to himself, "thank you, daughter, for reporting this. I will... I will figure out what to say to the King."

"Should you say anything?"

"I'll figure it out - but now we both know."

You nodded, "So you knew before I came?"

"I was awoken an hour ago to hear this news."

You nodded slowly, "Then I will leave you to it."

"Thank you," he whispered, letting you peck his cheek in parting before slipping out of his chambers. With nothing left to do or anything else to say, you went back to your chambers as to limit your exposure to the castle's tenants.

The less that could say they saw you this night, the better.

Once safe in your chambers with a locked main door, you could do nothing else but (over)think, wishing to all the Seven Gods you didn't know what you knew. Information and knowledge was vital to maintain power, this is true, but it also made you dangerous - also a target. The more you knew, the bigger the target.

It was only a few hours after dawn when the secret passage doors to your chamber opened. You were braiding your hair, ignoring the man you knew to have the only balls to use that door - especially now.

"I've always wondered, if we had children, would they have white hair or waves of fire, like you? Perhaps something between?"

"Fuck off, Daemon."

"So, you've heard," he sighed deeply. "Won't you even look at me?"

"I can't stand the very thought of you right now, nor the actual sound, I'll lose my stomach if I have to look at you."

"Let me tell you the truth," he begged, "before I have to leave the Keep, let me tell you the truth. Let Viserys and everyone have their ideas and opinions, their lies and slander, but let me tell you!"

"Excuse me?" You asked, whirling around in your seat to glare at him fully. "Viserys banished you, again?"

"He did... Back to the Vale."

You scoffed, "Good... Your Lady wife awaits you."

"Viserys thinks I've sullied Rhaenyra's virtue. I do not need you thinking the same, so, please, let me tell you what happened - no matter how uncomfortable, please, let me tell you the truth."

"What difference does it make?"

"I can't have you thinking something more occurred. Was I tempted? Yes, but I refrained. Did I touch her? A little - but not how you think."

You sighed, shaking your head, "I don't care, you're returning to your wife in the Vale, and I will be rid of you. No matter for how long this time, you will be gone - "

"For a time, yes, but I intend to return for you."

"No, I think I'll let Father make me a match. I despised the North, it was too cold, so the handsome Cregan Stark is out. I don't mind Dorne, perhaps a Martel to marry? Or even a Tully of Riverrun?"

"Do not speak such atrocities to me."

"You're one to talk! Your niece, Daemon? The girl I consider my closest friend? You couldn't just find that whore you like and be satisfied with her? Couldn't wait a single day, could you? Huh? How fucking pathetic!"

"Perhaps you are not as close with Rhaenyra as you thought," he tisked, making you feel disarmed. He spent the next hour and a half explaining to you what happened the previous night, and despite your disgust, you just listened.

Knowledge was power.

"I will return," he sighed at the end, "and in that time, you can make your own decisions if you want me or not. But I will return and I will have you, if you will have me, and this foolishness will be behind us."

"I'll give you a single year. I will not wait for you longer than that," you whispered, tears streaming down your face. "I can't stand that you've done this, but I will wait one single year for you to find a way out of your marriage and back to me. Any longer than that, and I will simply move on. I do not want to live my whole life in the Red Keep, and the truth of it is, I cannot live in the Princess' shadow any longer. One year, Daemon."

"One year," he nodded, stepping closer. "My love, please - "

"Do not assume to touch me. Not after you've touched her," you snapped, stepping away. "Get out, I need to be alone, you have been banished - you need to go, you cannot be seen here." Your eyes rolled, muttering, "Probably have to go collect your whore for this banishment, too."

"Not this time," he smirked, "this time, I leave with my promise that I will return for you, my sweet Lady Hightower."

"Fuck off, you perverted Prince Daemon," you sassed, watching him slip out the door; shutting you in an echoing silence. Your heart ripped itself apart, making you wonder what the fuck you had done to deserve getting caught in such a scandalous affair. But you knew, in your heart, you'd do anything for Daemon - the thought sickening your stomach as you pondered how far this would all go.

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

[shootingmorningstar]

Hiii!!! Would it be ok to request hcs of Lucifer, Husk, Vox with an affectionate s/o please?

Absolutely it is .ᐟ.ᐟ When the gender of the reader isn't specified in a request I default to gn, but if that's not what you were looking for, let me know .ᐟ

LUCIFER, HUSK AND VOX

WITH AN AFFECTIONATE READER.

LUCIFER.

He adores it. Absolutely adores you and every single sweet thing you say to him, every touch you give him. However it may be you usually show you affections, put him on the receiving end and he is absolutely melting. He is so, so sweet to the people he loves. Seriously.

Reach out to take his hand while the two of you are out on a date .ᐣ He is swooning -- especially if you're so excited to be spending time with him you swing your hands together.

The first time you gave him a gift simply because it reminded you of him, he really and truly almost teared up. He is the King of Hell -- he could have anything and everything he ever wanted, but most days it feels like he has nothing.

Nothing that really matters, anyway. What's the point of all the power he wields if he can't use it to be happy .ᐣ Of course, Charlie makes him so, so happy, but even after the pair reconcile, Charlie is a grown woman. She has a happy relationship, wonderful friends and perhaps most of all, she has a cause.

She doesn't have all the time in the world to spend cheering up her lonely father. Living in the Hotel helps, but as soon as she leaves, he finds that empty feeling crawling right back up his spine.

That's exactly where you come in -- a rare blessing in his long, long life. His wonderful partner who came home with a gift wrapped especially for him .ᐣ

The gift has him weak in the knees. It doesn't even matter what's in the box, the fact that you love him enough to think of him even when he's not around means more than you could ever know.

All of your gestures are priceless to him. They're one of the things he loves about you the most.

He goes out of his way to return the thought and care every single time. Please let him spoil you. Let him feel like he's finally using all of that power and money for a good cause because to him .ᐣ There is no better cause. Your smile when he gives you an outfit you'd had your eye on and takes you out to your favorite place to eat is all the thanks he'd ever need.

Your affection has been one of the driving forces that gets him to realize the good in his people he'd been too ignorant to look for was right in front of him all along. If someone as wonderful as you can wind up in Hell, perhaps he's judged his realm too harshly.

You could never, ever be too affectionate to Lucifer and he wants you to know it. Be unapologetically yourself, that's when he loves you best. Never feel like you're smothering him with your love. Your kindness is putting the King back together piece by piece.

HUSK.

Similarly to Lucifer, Husk is a character that could really use your affection. He may not be quite as outwardly sappy about it as the King, but that doesn't make him any less appreciative.

Someone sweet and loving makes for a really good partner for Husk, actually, and on a deeper reason than just the timeless grumpy and sunshine dynamic duo. Someone like you would do good to help bring him out of his shell, bring a little light to his life.

Words of affirmation and acts of service hit him particularly hard. Hearing that he matters from his partner and that he's worth something even now would do wonders for his psyche, as would a simple meaningful gesture, even something as small as cleaning the glasses behind the bar for him. Anything to make his work load just a little bit easier.

Overhearing you tell another resident of the Hotel just how much you adore him may just stop him in his tracks. Not only are you incredibly affectionate to him, you're sharing your love for him with others .ᐣ You care about him that much .ᐣ He's whistling behind the bar counter for the rest of the day and nobody can figure out why Husk of all people is in such good spirits.

One of his favorite things about you is the way you comb through his fur. You're so gentle in the way you touch him for no other reason than not wanting to hurt somebody you love. You work through each snag caught on the brush slowly so as to not hurt him and he is so, so grateful.

Ask him to look up something for you and he's surprised to see his own face staring back at him as your lockscreen. Even moreso when he unlocks your phone and finds the homescreen a picture of the pair of you. Even when you're not meaning to, you're still finding a way to knock the air out of his lungs.

Right before leaving the Hotel for the day you like to stock him up with his favorite snacks behind the bar, something non alcoholic to drink and painkillers if he takes it a little too heavy on the booze.

Husk has a lot harder of a time being so outward with his affections and so replicating it is a little difficult for him, but he will never let you think he doesn't appreciate what you do for him. Just be patient with him.

He will, however, always let you know that your emotions are safe with him, that he will never judge you or your love languages and that the two of you have each other no matter what.

VOX.

To be completely honest .ᐣ I think Vox is a little baffled. How he found himself in a genuine relationship in the first place is still beyond him -- and with someone so loving, at that. Despite the image he tries to sell on social media & television, it's not too hard to figure out that he really isn't that good of a person.

You both are in Hell and most sinners fall for good reason, so despite the fact that making the assumption that a powerful sinner soul being corrupted is easy to make, the large majorities of Hell probably just doesn't have it in them to care.

You're different, though -- you're a shining example of the fact that not all sinners are innately evil, or just too far gone. From the moment Vox had met you, he had seen that you were good.

Why in Hell had you taken a liking to him .ᐣ He's not upset about it per se, just confused. Initially a little frustrated at best. Before you came along, he thought he'd be content, no, happy with the way his life was for eternity.

What didn't he have .ᐣ He had power, he had money, he had allies. What else could he possibly need .ᐣ Relationships were not for him. The strange fling he had going on with Valentino was romance aplenty for him.

That is, of course, until you came along. You had been interested in him from the very start, and you weren't afraid to show it. At first, he saw you as just another sinner to manipulate.

Apparently being kind and loving doesn't equate to a pushover . . . . .ᐣ News to him.

You asked him on a date and were nothing short of wonderful during it, listening to what he had to say with great interest -- but at the same time, you refused to let him speak over you or order you around.

His curiosity is what made him call you back for a second date. And a third, and a fourth.

He's absolutely loathe to admit it, but by the fifth date that excuse grows worn. He's not just curious about you, he's grown used to your presence. Even sort of misses you when you go. How annoying.

Maybe it's refreshing to have someone support him without secondhand motives, or maybe it's an error .ᐣ He usually can't stand being disrespected. Either way, he grows used to having you around, having your support and love.

He will NEVER bring you to the Vee's meetings. Not after he's come to consider you his. He doesn't want to risk Velvette's cocky attitude being contagious and he will absolutely never leave you around Val. He doesn't mind Val being .... the way he is, but to you.ᐣ Absofuckinglutely not.

Having a partner is seeming to do wonderful things for his image, and he comes to love you in his own very Vox-y way, so continue on with your doting and affections. Keep memorizing his favorite drinks and especially don't stop fixing his bowtie and kissing his cheek before he leaves for work.

Congratulations, you've fixed him . . . .ᐣ Kinda sorta .ᐣ Pet trained .ᐣ Who knows. But you're happy and he's happy, and that's all that matters.

I hope these were to your satisfaction .ᐟ I have a hard time imagining any sort of relationship with Vox as being overly healthy because we all saw the kind of person he is. With that in mind, I tried to do my best for a workaround to keep it in line with both the prompt and his character.

Let me know how I did .ᐣ Hearing back from you guys keeps me motivated to write, as always ~ .ᐟ

[edenesth]

The Way to His Heart [17]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Warning: eMoTiOnAl DaMaGe

Part 16 | Fic Masterlist | Part 18

How dare he—

Jongho gritted his teeth, his fists tightening at the despicable tactics the fourth prince employed to disrupt your relationship with the general. Usually composed, the assistant struggled to contain his rising anger, feeling an overwhelming urge to resort to violence.

Meanwhile, all Eunsook cared about was your well-being. She empathised with your past, knowing all too well the horrors you endured in your old home. The idea of being married to someone potentially more ruthless than your previous abusers must have been terrifying. Despite understanding the reasons behind her master's actions, she acknowledged his moral ambiguity.

Her only wish was for you to accept that he would never hurt you.

Despite the whirlwind of emotions stirred by the revelation that Seonghwa might have been involved in more than just supervising your father's punishments, your expression remained unreadable. Yeosang held his breath, watching you intently, half-expecting a reaction of terror or betrayal. Whether it was shock, anger, or disbelief, he anticipated something negative.

Desperation clawed at the prince's heart as he clung to his last resort, willing it to work. Foolish as it might seem, the truth was he had no prior experience in wooing anyone, let alone a married woman committed to another. He fumbled in the dark, unsure of the right ways to win your heart, driven only by the conviction that he could be a better husband than General Park.

In his mind, he painted a picture of himself as the ideal partner for you, one who would treat you with the care and affection he believed you deserved. He saw himself as the only one who could truly understand the pain etched into your body, just as you might understand his. And so, he resolved to pursue you relentlessly, even if it meant resorting to drastic measures that could potentially cause you further trauma.

For the fourth prince, the ends justified the means. If it meant having you by his side, it would all be worth it. He vowed to spend the rest of his days showering you with nothing but love and kindness to make up for what he put you through today.

It's time you come to me now, darling.

However, he was in for a rude awakening if he believed you would run into his arms seeking comfort after learning the terrifying truth about the monster your husband turned out to be.

Instead, after a moment of collecting yourself, you lifted your head to meet his eyes, a newfound intensity burning within your gaze, "I'm sorry if this offends you, Your Highness, but what exactly do you hope to achieve by showing and telling me all of this? My husband acted as he did because those people deserved it. As for my father, if you could even call him that, he abused me all my life and killed my mother; he deserved whatever my husband gave him and more."

Though the revelations about the general's potential actions during those extra hours unsettled you, your anger shifted towards Yeosang for bringing them to light in such a manner. Clenching your fists to conceal your trembling hands, you remained resolute. Even if you didn't condone Seonghwa's actions, he was still your husband, and your love for him remained unchanged.

As you stood there, the annoyance toward the fourth prince simmered within you, each word he uttered adding fuel to the fire. From the very beginning, he had refused to acknowledge your new title as Lady Park, a small but significant act of disrespect. Then, he persisted in bringing up topics from your past, despite your obvious discomfort and desire to move on. Now, his deliberate attempts to tarnish the general's image felt almost like a personal attack.

The sarcasm laced in his words when speaking of your husband grated on your nerves. Seonghwa had sacrificed so much for the country, and the least he deserved was respect. It dawned on you now what San had meant about Yeosang's difficult nature. You finally understood why the prince's behaviour could be infuriating.

Jongho and Eunsook exchanged glances, their expressions shifting from concern to awe as they watched you stand your ground against the fourth prince's attempts to undermine your husband. At that moment, it became clear to them that perhaps their worries had been for nothing all along. They should have had more faith in your unwavering love and loyalty to their master.

Yeosang's confidence faltered as he observed your stern expression and heard the firmness in your voice. This was not the reaction he had anticipated from you. Perhaps he had underestimated the depth of your love and loyalty to General Park.

Could the Queen have been right all along?

Feeling a sense of urgency and realising he had no other viable option, His Highness took a deep breath and decided to come clean about his intentions once and for all. He couldn't risk angering you any further than he already had. It was time to be honest, even if it meant facing the consequences of his actions.

The smugness that had once characterised his demeanour now vanished, replaced by a palpable sense of shame as he lowered his head slightly, "I... gosh, I am sorry, my lady. I acknowledge that it was wrong of me to manipulate the situation like that. I'll be honest with you. There was no actual banquet planned. In truth, I haven't celebrated my birthday in years. It only serves as a painful reminder of my existence."

Your brows furrowed in apprehension as you listened, allowing him to continue with his explanation, "I take it you're wondering why I despise my own existence. You're likely unaware of my reputation, unlike others. You may have noticed the birthmark here," he gestured to the red mark on the side of his face, prompting a nod from you.

He offered a faint smile, "Throughout my life, I've been treated like a freak because of this mark. As a member of the royal family, I'm sure you're aware there's an expectation of flawless appearance. So, imagine the shock when they saw the fourth prince with such a conspicuous blemish, my parents included. Both within and beyond the palace walls, people have whispered about my birth, deeming it a curse, questioning if I should have even been born at all."

"Since reaching adulthood, I've rejected numerous marriage proposals. Every woman presented to me has regarded me with disdain in their eyes. But then I met you, my lady, that day in the cherry blossom garden. You were the first person to wear your own mark proudly, without a trace of revulsion. It was as if you saw beyond my appearance. I suppose you could say it was love at first sight for me. I'm in love with you, Miss Jang, and that's why I've brought you here today—to propose to you."

Everything suddenly fell into place.

The puzzle pieces of his behaviour over the past days and weeks finally clicked together, forming a clear picture. Empathy flooded your heart as you realised the depth of his struggles. You knew all too well what it felt like to be singled out, treated like an outsider even by those closest to you, and shown no respect despite your status.

However, you felt a pang of shock upon learning about his feelings for you and his pursuit. It was unexpected, to say the least. You hadn't imagined that he harboured such emotions, especially considering the complexities of your respective situations.

Observing your softened demeanour while listening to the prince's confession, Jongho and Eunsook felt a resurgence of worry. They understood Yeosang's struggles and empathised with his difficult life. Despite that, they couldn't ignore the fact that you were a married woman. Regardless of what His Highness may have gone through, pursuing someone who was already committed was inherently wrong.

The two of them exchanged a concerned glance, silently acknowledging the complexity of the situation. While they sympathised with the prince, they couldn't condone his actions, especially his attempt to come between you and your husband using such underhanded tactics.

Your chaperones would soon find reassurance in your response after a moment of contemplative silence. With a deep inhale, you attempted to offer Yeosang a smile, despite the earlier anger you felt towards him, "Look, Your Highness, I understand the hardships you've endured, and probably continue to endure. I genuinely empathise with you. I'm also truly grateful to have met you. I've never had any friends before, so meeting someone who shares similar interests means a lot to me."

His Highness grinned sadly, "Ah yes, I'm sensing a 'but' there."

With a light chuckle, you nodded, "But it's precisely because I see you as a friend and care about you that I want you to understand that whatever you think you might feel for me isn't love."

He stared at you with wide eyes, but you halted him before he could protest, "Perhaps you've mistaken the feelings of gratitude and joy from finally meeting someone who treats you sincerely for love," You gently explained, "My prince, love doesn't simply happen at first sight like that. It requires much more than that; two people must go through so much together before they truly understand their feelings. I've been through it myself, and I can assure you that what you're feeling is definitely not love."

"Lastly, please address me as Lady Park. I haven't gone by Miss Jang for a while now. While we can remain friends, I must insist that you respect my marriage and abandon any plans you may have. My heart belongs solely to the general, and that won't change."

You sighed at the pleading look in the prince's eyes, understanding that convincing him wouldn't be easy. But you had said your piece, and the rest was up to him to realise. Feeling the onset of a headache from everything, you bowed one final time, saying, "If there's to be no banquet as you've mentioned, we'll be taking our leave then. Thank you for having us today, Your Highness. I wish you happiness."

I'm almost there, my love.

Nearly two days had passed when Seonghwa finally arrived back in the city and approached his own estate. The journey had been one of the most challenging he had ever undertaken. He cursed his injury for slowing him down, as he had to make several stops to rest and change his bandages, mimicking the actions of the medical team soldiers who had tended to him. Despite his urgency to leave camp, he had taken care to pack enough supplies to last the trip back.

Regardless of the constant yearning to be with you again, he felt a twinge of guilt for leaving his army behind abruptly due to such personal matters. If his soldiers knew about his absence, some might consider him irresponsible for his actions.

Shaking his head, he recalled how he used to criticise some of his men distracted by thoughts of their loved ones during battles, viewing them as foolish for letting such distractions affect them. If someone had told him he would act similarly in the future, he wouldn't have believed them for a moment.

The things you do to me, my wife.

The mere thought of seeing and being near you again made his heart flutter. He admitted to himself that he had become one of those fools he once criticised, but he wouldn't change a thing. Experiencing love had shifted his perspective entirely, compelling him to do whatever it took to keep you by his side forever. Having saved you from a life of suffering, he couldn't bear the thought of leaving you alone again. He was determined to be the one to bring you joy, protect you, and stay with you for the rest of your days.

Or... was he really?

His conviction would soon waver as the ominous sensation in the pit of his stomach intensified with each step closer to his home. Alongside it, the pain in his abdomen escalated steadily. What should have been a mere graze now felt like something far more serious. In truth, the discomfort in his insides was becoming unbearable.

Seonghwa gritted his teeth as he clutched the area of his wound one last time, his breath catching in his throat as a sudden wave of pain coursed through him. With a determined exhale, he squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to endure the agony that surged within him.

At the entrance of his estate, the staff responsible for guarding widened their eyes in recognition of their master's arrival. He quickly straightened his posture, putting on a facade of strength to conceal any signs of his injury, "Master, you're back!" One of the staff members exclaimed, their surprise evident as they rushed forward to assist him down from his horse.

Within moments, Jongho emerged from the estate, his expression a mix of concern and relief as he hurried to the general's side, "Sir, I assume you've received my letter?"

Your husband nodded, "I did. His Highness also sent me one, mentioning his intention to propose to your mistress."

The assistant's eyes rounded in surprise, realising the extent of the fourth prince's confidence to openly declare his intentions to pursue you to the general, "Well, he certainly made the attempt."

Seonghwa's steps faltered at this revelation, and he turned to face Jongho, who seemed equally uneasy, "So, it's already happened?"

Nodding, the younger man blinked anxiously, "S-sir, it's not good. The mistress knows," The general felt his blood run cold at that, but he pressed on, "Please, be more specific."

Jongho swallowed hard, bowing his head apologetically, "She learned about the Jang family's punishments and what you've done to the former minister. The prince took us to the palace torture chambers as part of his scheme. While she stood her ground there, she demanded that I tell her everything that happened as soon as we got back."

Suddenly, Seonghwa understood the source of his ominous feeling. He should have known better than to believe he could keep the truth hidden from you forever. Surely, your compassionate heart would struggle to accept what he did. Taking a shaky breath, he asked, "Where is she now?"

"She's in the House of Lotus, sir. She hasn't left since we returned from the palace two days ago. But don't worry, Eunsook has been making sure she eats her meals." Jongho reassured him.

With a nod of gratitude towards the assistant, your husband made his way towards your quarters, passing by the head maid who was taken aback by his sudden appearance. She knew he should have still been at the warzone. However, a quick glance from Jongho conveyed that the master had returned because of their letter. Understanding dawned on her, and she could only hope for the best.

The general's breath hitched as he laid eyes on you again after so long. There you sat in the pavilion, your attention fixed on the lotus pond before you. You appeared just as radiant as the last time he had seen you. However, this time, instead of your usual lady etiquette books laid open, his heart lurched at the reports detailing your father's latest status beside you. These confidential documents, presented to Seonghwa monthly, tracked the former minister's movements. Biting back the wince that threatened to escape him, he ignored the increasing pain in his abdomen and called out your name.

As your head snapped up at the familiar voice, you gasped at the sight of your husband at the entrance of your quarters. Slowly rising from your seat, you cautiously approached him, unsure if this was a hallucination. For so long, you had imagined him here, in this very spot, so many times that you couldn't count. You hoped it was not your mind playing tricks on you again.

This isn't another dream, is it?

You didn't understand why he was back; there was no news about the war being over yet. It's not that you didn't want him here, you just didn't expect him to be here all of a sudden. Standing before him, you felt your eyes water and your heart pound from seeing him again. It took you a moment to process his presence before you whispered, "S-Seonghwa... what are you doing here?" When he did not respond, you noticed his gaze staring past you at the reports Jongho was forced to hand over to you.

Despite the intense urge to pull you into his arms and never let go, all he manages is to harden his expression, "So, I see you've found out." He said, his voice strained.

This wasn't how either of you had imagined your reunion after the tearful goodbye. With a deep sigh, you nodded grimly, your mind flashing with reminders of your family's physical punishments and the gruesome things he'd done to your father, momentarily shattering the loving image in your eyes, "Yes, I did. And if I hadn't, were you planning never to tell me? What happened to not keeping secrets between us, hm?"

Truth be told, you found yourself no longer harbouring anger towards him for this matter. Over the past two days, you'd taken time to reflect, understanding his perspective and somewhat rationalising his actions. While you weren't exactly upset, you simply desired to hear the whole truth from him directly and perhaps receive a plea for forgiveness. In any case, you were prepared to run into his embrace.

Your words to the prince in the palace were sincere. Your heart belonged only to Seonghwa, and that wouldn't change. You firmly believed in the strength of your love, likening it to the resilience of your lotus flowers, enduring despite the obstacles. This situation, you believed, was just one more challenge to overcome together.

But instead of giving you the response you expected, your heart sank at the cold smirk he wore before speaking, "That's right, I never would have told you the truth if it were up to me. You women are so troublesome; it was stupid of me to think I could actually handle one for the rest of my life. Besides, what difference would it have made? This is who I am, and you knew about my reputation from the moment you were promised to me. So, are you really that surprised?"

Crossing his arms over his chest, he turned away from you, adding, "You've seen the reports. Now that you know what I'm capable of, I won't bother hiding anything from you any longer."

His words pierced your heart like daggers, leaving you reeling in disbelief. Shaking your head in denial, you whimpered his name, hoping for some semblance of the man you loved to emerge from behind that cold facade. This wasn't what you wanted from him. You wanted him to fight for you, to reassure you of his love, just as you had done for him. Confusion gnawed at your insides.

Why wasn't he fighting for you?

What was going on?

"Seonghwa, I-I don't understand—"

Before you could finish, he cut you off abruptly, his words laced with finality, "Yes, it was me. I did all those horrible things to your family. That's the kind of monster I am. But now, you're free. Your family is gone, and no one can dictate your choices anymore. You're your own person. You can do whatever you want and love whoever you want. If it's the fourth prince you wish to be with, you have my blessing. Maybe he's the one who can give you the companionship you desire."

With that, he turned and stormed out of your quarters, leaving you alone and bewildered, with no assurance of his return.

Once out of your sight, he released a shaky breath and clutched his wound, feeling the fabric already soaked with blood seeping through his bandage. Despite his blurring vision, he stumbled through the estate, desperate to depart before anyone noticed his condition. Seonghwa wasn't oblivious; he knew he must have been poisoned when the pain of his injury became too unbearable.

With a sinking feeling, he realised he didn't have much time left, and perhaps Prince Yeosang was right. Maybe what you truly needed was a husband who would consistently stay by your side and not cause you the worry he did.

I'm sorry, my love. This is for the best.

« Preview of Part 18 »

"Physician Jung, there's a letter for you."

Yunho furrowed his brows, pausing his work on his latest concoction aimed at alleviating all of your scars. Despite the challenges he faced in this endeavour, he remained steadfast in his commitment to helping you restore your skin to its original state.

Setting aside the herbs he was working with, he approached the entrance of his quarters to accept the letter from Jongho, "For me?"

The younger man nodded in confirmation, "Yes, oddly enough, it arrived via a military messenger. Initially, I assumed it was intended for the general, but it's specifically addressed to you. General Officer Song requests your urgent attention."

Blinking, the doctor processed the information, "Wait, do you mean General Park has returned to the estate?"

Jongho smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck, "Oh, yeah. He arrived unannounced just a while ago, thanks to our letter. I suppose the situation at the warzone must have calmed down if he's able to return so quickly. He's with the mistress now. Let's hope things will improve with him here."

Relieved, Yunho nodded and quickly unfolded the letter. His stomach dropped, and his eyes widened at the hastily scribbled words, "H-he's with the mistress, you say?"

"Yes, what about it?" The assistant furrowed his brows in confusion as he watched Yunho shove the letter back into his hands before bolting out. Reading the letter himself, he soon found himself rushing in the same direction, dread filling his being.

No, this can't be.

I was so excited that I got to writing this as soon as I completed all the assignments for the first half of my semester! Only three parts until the end of this story, how we feeling out there?🤧

Holy crap, thank you so much for 1.4k followers! As always, thank you so much for reading and please let me know your thoughts! <3

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All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[comradekatara]

these lines provide some of the most telling insight into azula’s character throughout the whole show. while she claims she “doesn’t actally care” that ursa “always preferred zuko,” that her “own mother thought [she] was a monster,” it’s clear she does care, deeply, that she’s belying a core truth about her psychological landscape that is ultimately revealed by the mirror scene in the finale. these lines are the closest she ever gets to being honest with herself before her breakdown. so let’s actually take the time to unpack them.

my own mother thought I was a monster.

much ink has been spilled on whether or not ursa was a good mother to azula, whether she actually thought azula was a monster or whether ozai simply convinced azula that she did to further isolate her. personally, i think it’s something of both. ozai isolated her and molded azula into an extension of himself; thus, he made both azula and ursa see her that way, until ursa was not only afraid for azula, but also afraid of azula. ursa thought that ozai was a monster, so azula, as a projection of ozai, became regarded as a monster as well, even if logically ursa knew that azula was an abused child and not simply an extension of her husband in any ontological sense. ursa had no choice but to let ozai mold their daughter to his image, as she could not disentangle her daughter from her father without also facing his wrath. she was faced with an impossible situation, and she hurt azula as a fellow victim of ozai’s abuse, regardless of whether or not that was ever her intention.

she was right of course.

however, an aspect of these lines that I think gets overlooked and misunderstood is the fact that azula readily admits that she sees herself as a monster. flippantly, even. “she was right, of course.” most people assume that azula is simply acknowledging that she’s the villain of the story. “of course she must know she’s the villain, she clearly relishes in being evil.” but people neglect to acknowledge that azula truly believes that the fire nation is right. azula has been indoctrinated into this ideology since birth; she has no reason to think that she might be on the wrong side of history. when azula admits that she thinks herself a monster, it is not because she thinks that she was wrong to conquer ba sing se, wrong to capture the kyoshi warriors, wrong to kill the avatar. no, azula thinks that she is a monster for the same reason ursa did: because she is like ozai.

but it still hurt.

let’s say, for argument’s sake, that azula did know that the fire nation was evil, that she did bad things for a bad cause. would that actually change anything? no, azula would continue down her path of imperialist conquest, never entertaining the notion that she even had another choice. like zuko, azula is angry at herself. and as we have just seen, she is not just angry; azula hates herself, despises herself, considers herself loathsome, ghastly, monstrous. because as much as she projects an image of supreme power and confidence, wherein she is at liberty to do whatever she wants at all times, azula is ozai’s obedient servant. and azula is paralyzed by the fear of leaving one hair out of place, of straying even a millimeter from his path.

azula was shaped in ozai’s image, with no iroh or ursa or anyone else for that matter to present her with new paths, with ways of escaping her abuse. even zuko, who did receive support and other options, took years to unlearn ozai’s conditioning. azula had no other options, no real support system, nothing to define her identity besides her abuser’s dictums. she has seen what happened to her mother and brother when ozai perceived their treasonous inclinations (i.e., contradicting his narcissism by expressing loyalty to other human beings besides solely himself) and she is paralyzed by fear that the same could happen to her. she rationalizes ozai’s violence by convincing herself that his victims deserved it for being “weak,” but deep down, she knows that she is also weak, that she is also a victim, even if she cannot fully admit it to herself.

so she sees herself as a monster, for being ozai’s shadow, for being the servant of the man who destroyed her family. her proximity to monstrosity appalls her, even as she tries to convince herself that it is proximity to godhood, that she is not an extension of abject violence but a messenger of the divine. zuko can only recognize ozai’s abuse for what it is once he deconstructs ozai’s imperialist ideology, but azula still buys into that ideology, so she cannot put a name to his abuse. but it’s clear she still fears it, still feels disgusted with herself for being victim to it, still feels like a monster even as she tries to convince herself that she is an angel.

in fact, she has to tell herself that she’s a monster, because if she’s not a monster, then she’s a victim, weak like her mother who got what she deserved. if she’s a victim then that means she and ursa (and zuko) were all destroyed by the senseless cruelty of an egomaniac’s petty whims, that all the love she has ever known was ruined for nothing. so she has to be a monster, because at least then she has power, at least then she has agency. ozai shaped her in his image, and she has to be proud of that fact, because otherwise she’d shatter.

and when that realization overtakes her, she does. when she takes inventory of all the love she’s lost, of all the people who cannot look her in the eye, of all the ways in which she has been perverted by her father’s abuse, she is disgusted by herself, for being both monstrous and weak, feared and afraid, victim and perpetrator. and it hurts.

[ssweetleaf]

million dollar man.

summary: you’re sick of seeing people talk down to robert, so you show him just how much you respect him.

robert fischer x afab!reader

includes: SMUT, rob’s asshole dad, kinda subby!daddy rob though there’s no daddy kink in this one, oral (male receiving), unprotected p in v, cream pie, breeding kink, semi-public sex, a really terrible ending because that’s all i’m good at

✩

“You ready, honey?”

The foyer sparkled around you, big marble pillars and stupidly shiny chandeliers all gleamed at you, causing your eyes to squint and your mouth to open in awe.

Everywhere you looked there were people, all dressed up in their formal attire— cinched waists and satin gloves paired with crisp waistcoats and bow ties, old money, new money, it didn’t matter, as long as they had a good seven digits within their net worth they’d be considered a part of the festivities.

And that’s where you realised you didn’t quite belong in that room, with those people.

“Honey? You listenin’?”

You shook the fog from your brain, eyes flitting to him. Robert. Your Robbie, handsome as ever in his suit, tailored to fit him just right, his tie matching the dark wine colour that was your dress. The dress he had got you and left on your duvet as a surprise. You couldn’t begin to imagine how much it had cost him.

You smiled up at him, small and not quite reaching your eyes.

“Sorry, Robbie,” your eyes fluttered to the floor, “just nervous is all.”

He stepped closer to you, big palms raising to cradle your cheeks, squishing them slightly and running his thumbs along the soft skin.

“You look beautiful, baby,” he said, full of sincerity, his eyes so blue and glistening. “S’no need to be nervous, sweet girl.”

You nodded, all bashful now, leaning into his kiss when he pressed a chaste one to your lips.

Robert hooked his arm out for you to take, leading you inside the ballroom with high ceilings and waiters that held trays full of champagne. You took a mental note to snag one of those flutes whenever you had the chance, you needed a bit of liquid courage.

Being Robert Fischer’s arm candy meant staying at his side at all times, with an arm hooked round your waist or a palm to the small of your back, any little touch to tell anyone that ogled— you were his.

His girl.

“Robert, you’re late—” standing straight and proper was his father, peering at him in a look much akin to distaste, not bothering to give you so much as a glance.

You saw Rob’s jaw tick.

“I’d like you to meet Thomas, he’s shown to be quite useful in the business, I’m sure you could learn a thing or two…”

Straight to business. Straight to the insults. The same old same old, shaking hands and discussing terms and money that you hadn’t a clue about— Robert’s teeth were gritted, hand gripping your hip to sate and ground him.

“Lovely to see you as always, father,” he spoke, sarcasm swirling on his tongue, blue eyes swarming and darkening at the mere sight of his own flesh and blood.

The conversation went on for a while before Thomas piped up, gaze settling on your figure, roaming and ogling, staring for far too long at your tits.

“And who’s this?” He asked, eyes never leaving yours. You felt uncomfortable, shifting awkwardly and hugging yourself closer to Robert.

Rob’s brows furrowed, a possessive arm tightening around you further.

“This is my girl-” he looked down at you, fondness and so much adoration swirling in his irises, mouth quirking in a smile when you settled your own gaze upon his.

“It’s about time you settled down,” his father spoke out before Rob had time to utter your name, “but believe me, doll, run while you still can.”

You frowned.

“He’s useless, I tell you. Absolutely useless—”

“I think that’s quite enough.” You took hold of your lover’s hand, tugging him along, “if you’ll excuse us.”

Robert followed along like a lost puppy, letting you tug on his hand and guide him to the nearest available bathroom.

The sparkly green tile gleamed at you as soon as you walked through the door, pushing him through and clicking the lock shut.

“What’re you doing, honey,” he stuttered, swallowing thickly when you pushed him up against the counter, smoothing your palms along his lapels and down his chest.

“No one gets to speak to you like that.” You muttered, frowning, and he smoothed at the furrow between your brows with the pad of his thumb, smiling slightly.

“S’alright, baby,” he began, cutting himself off when he saw you shaking your head.

“No, it isn’t,” you spoke, firm and to the point, hands moving to cradle his jaw and cheeks, skin smooth and shaven, so pretty to look at. “do you hear me?”

He chuckled, pressing his hands to your hips, swaying you gently, attempting to soothe you.

“I hear ya, sweetheart—”

“Robert, I mean it.” You swiped at the skin underneath his eyes, palming his delicate skin and marvelling at how pretty he was. Oh, how vulnerable he could be when he was with you.

You stared at each other for a while, eyes flitting over every blemish and dimple, savouring the sight as if the world was coming to an end, shifting to a close.

You pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, a chaste one, so soft it was barely there, leaning in close, your lashes fluttering against his cheek bone.

“Let me show you.” You muttered, pressing another kiss, a firmer one, to his lips now, then another, far more desperate. “Let me show you, Robbie.”

“Honey,” his chuckle was nervous, voice cracking and eyelids fluttering closed when your mouth mapped along the sharp line of his jaw. “honey, not here— n-not now.”

You pulled back, an over-exaggerated pout playing upon your lips before you leaned in, mouth pressed to his ear, tongue flicking against the shell when you uttered into it.

“Please, sir.”

He whimpered, broken and whiny, and you could feel him against your belly, already hard and throbbing when your breath fanned along his neck.

“Okay,” he sighed, almost dreamily, bucking his hips against you and holding onto you tight. “Alright, darling, you know I’ll do anything for you.”

He was breathless, seeing stars, sucking his lip between his teeth when you lowered yourself to kneel in front of him, hands smoothing along his thighs, the expensive material of his Italian suit glided along your palms, smooth and elegant before you found what you were looking for.

A bulge tightened his trousers, stretching the fabric, barely being able to contain the sheer size of his big cock, you were sure if you left him any longer a wet spot would form.

“Please, sweetheart,” he was the one saying please now, petting at your hair and smoothing down the tresses, chest heaving at your kneeling form, looking all pliant though he knew you were the one in charge.

You pulled at his belt, tugging it through the buckle, the leather squeaking when you grew impatient with it, wanting it off. Then you unbuttoned him, drawing down his fly, pushing them down along with the tight constriction of his boxer briefs, letting them pool at his ankles.

His cock sprang free, slapping against his stomach, a long pearlescent string of pre-cum sticking to his skin, mouth-wateringly so.

“So pretty,” you cooed, reaching up to take him in your hand, girthy and long, everything you’d ever need, your fingers barely being able to touch from the thickness. “Can’t believe you’re mine.”

“All yours, darling—” he whined, breathy and muscles tensing. “all for you.”

You hummed, leaning forward to kiss at his tip, stroking him with your fist, slow and sensual, grinning as his breath picked up.

You licked along the length of him, along that thick vein that throbbed hotly, sucking his balls into your mouth one after the other, leaving the stain of your lipstick along his flesh, before taking his cock down your throat, hearing him moan and whimper at the suddenness of it all.

“Oh, that’s it,” he whined, thumb smoothing along your cheek, “good girl, s-such a good, sweet girl.”

You hummed around him, swirling your tongue around him and trying to take him as deep as your throat would let you, gagging around his cock, tears slipping from your heaves.

Robert felt his chest swell, the sight before him so pretty, suckling at his cock, your tears glistening from the light of the bathroom’s chandelier, so lucky he could call you his. His girl.

The ring box in his suit pocket felt heavy when he stared at you.

You took him further down your throat, salty tears slipping down your cheeks, leaving your eyes all sparkly and glistening, gagging around his cock every now and again, the sharp tug that Robert inflicted upon your tresses a big indicator that he greatly enjoyed the constriction of your tight, warm little throat.

“Yes, that’s it, my sweet girl,” he whimpered, hips mindlessly bucking with each downward thrust of your mouth. “So good to me, take care of me so well.”

Hell, if anyone decided to walk past the door to the bathroom they were situated in, they’d get an earful— the crude sound of sloppy sucking and his airy whimpers resonated around the echoey room. Someone was bound to listen in.

You had half a hope that Thomas was outside the door, listening to the sheer pleasure you inflicted on your boy.

“Baby,” he stuttered, whining and pawing at your hair and cheeks, desperate and leaking onto your tongue. “Can I cum? Oh, please, darling, let me cum.”

You took your mouth off him, letting your hand take over, slowly stroking him into your fist, thumb flicking over his head, so sensitive, you thought.

You pouted up at him, somewhat mockingly.

“Don’t you wanna cum inside me, Robbie?” You stared at him, whatching him heave and buck, cheeks all flushed and forehead sweaty, such a pretty, pathetic sight. “Was looking forward to it all night.”

You continued your pouting, adding a little whine to your speech, watching him nod exuberantly and stroking your cheek with his shuddering palm.

“O-of course, baby— wanna cum inside you, just wanna please you.”

You smiled, pressed one last kiss to the flushed head of his tip before standing, moving to lean over the counter, back arched and ass in the air, swaying at him teasingly.

His palms smoothed over your backside, ruching the skirt of your dress to reveal your pretty panties, a pretty shade of pink, a wet spot saturating the fabric that covered your cunt.

He groaned, grabbing a handful of your hips, kneading the flesh between his fingers. He gazed at your reflection in the mirror, taking his bottom lip between his teeth when he saw your pretty tits spilling out of your bodice.

“What’re you waiting for, Robbie? Haven’t I been a good girl?”

He nodded, still so red in the face, leaning over you to press his face in the crook of your neck, kissing your skin; a form of an apology.

“Yes, dear, you’ve been such a good girl. Always deserve my cock, always.” He hummed, pulling back to tuck his fingers into the elastic of your underwear, pulling them to the side and exposing your glistening pussy, juices dripping down your thighs and clit throbbing hotly.

Rob huffed out a breath, cock jumping at the sight before him, before gripping himself at the base, gliding it along your slit and bumping the tip against your clit, tapping it lightly before repeating the process.

“Hurry,” you whined, pressing yourself closer against him, wiggling your hips, the movement causing the ridge of his cock to slip inside your hole.

He pushed all the way to the base, panting like a dog and gripping at your skin, etching finger-shaped bruises into your flesh.

“Feel so perfect.” He whimpered, feeling you clench, trying to adjust to his size, the thickness of his cock stretching you out impossibly— you felt as if he was in your throat.

It wasn’t long before you gave him the go ahead to move, the subtle sting of his size still apparent, though the jolts of pleasure completely overshadowed the discomfort.

You were squealing into your arm, moaning like a porn star with every thrust, squeezing him and hitting your ass back in time with the buck of his hips.

“S-so wet, baby, so fuckin’ pretty, creamin’ all over my cock, aren’t you?” You nodded, yesyesyes, so obscene, you began to cry, heavy sobs heaving from your lips at the sheer pleasure of it all.

“Y’the only one that can make me feel this good, Robbie,” you moaned, blindly reaching back to find one of hands, clutching onto it and weaving your fingers between his. “M’all yours, Sir.”

His voice cracked when he whined out, squeezing his eyes shut smoothing a hand over the fat of your ass cheeks.

“Shit,” he hissed through clenched teeth, “baby, m’gonna cum already— m’sorry, sweet girl, just gotta fill you up.”

“Oh, please,” you begged, clenching and quivering around him, feeling the thick veins and ridges that ran along his length thrusting in and out, in and out. “Need it, want you to put a baby inside me, you’d make such a good daddy, Robert.”

His brain short-circuited at your crude words, hips stuttering and eyes going all starry and glossy as he came. Quick ropes of cum painted your walls, sticky and thick, and even with how sensitive his cock felt he continued to fuck his seed into your spasming pussy, your own orgasm washing over you with his filthy sounds.

Not a drop of cum was left to waste, all of it pushed deep inside, and once he was far too overstimulated to be inside you any longer, he stuffed his fingers inside you, plugging you with the Fischer prodigy and hoping with flushed cheeks and a beating heart it’d take.

All he wanted was to see you all round and full with his children. And soon the ring he had bought would be situated pride and place on your ring finger.

Soon.

[yourmoonie]

How to manifest an SP

The Neville Goddard way and my interpretation:

Neville:

“When I decided to marry the lady who now bears my name, I applied this principle. At the time, I was terribly involved. I had married at the age of eighteen and became a father at nineteen. We separated that year, but I never sought a divorce; therefore, my separation was not legal in the state of New York.”

Moonie:

Neville had specific circumstances in front of him:

- He wasn't legally divorced

- The Ancient laws of the New York city were getting on his way of marrying his 2nd wife

Neville:

“Sixteen years later, when I fell in love and wanted to marry my present wife, I decided to sleep as though we were married. While sleeping, physically in my hotel room, I slept imaginatively in an apartment, she in one bed and I in the other. My dancing partner did not want me to marry, so she told my wife that I would be seeking a divorce and to make herself scarce – which she did, taking up residence in another state. But I persisted! Night after night I slept in the assumption that I was happily married to the girl I love."

Moonie:

As you can see, despite the annoying circumstances, Neville still believed in his imagination even if his 1st wife wasn't around, even if his 1st wife didn't sign the divorce papers, he still believed in his imagination more than his 3D or his human senses. He slept in the assumption that he was happily married to the girl he loved even if his 3D was showing him the opposite.

Neville:

“Within a week I received a call requesting me to be in court the next Tuesday morning at 10:00 A.M., giving me no reason why I should be there, I dismissed the request, thinking it was a hoax played on me by a friend. So the next Tuesday morning at 9:30 A.M.I was unshaved and only casually dressed, when the phone rang and a lady said: “It would be to your advantage, as a public figure, to be in court this morning, as your wife is on trial. “What a shock! I quickly thanked the lady, caught a taxi, and arrived just as the court began. My wife had been caught lifting a few items from a store in New York City, which she had not paid for. Asking to speak on her behalf I said: “She is my wife and the mother of my son. Although we have been separated for sixteen years, as far as I know, she has never done this before and I do not think she will ever do it again. We have a marvellous son. Please do nothing to her to reflect in any way upon our son, who lives with me. If I may say something, she is eight years my senior and may be passing through a certain emotional state which prompted her to do what she did. If you must sentence her, then please suspend it.”

Moonie:

Despite the fact that his 1st wife was "running away" from signing the divorce papers or facing Neville so he could marry his second wife, Neville didn't hold any grudges against his ex wife because he believed that his imagination was greater than anything. So Neville experienced a very unique bridge of events, which then later on led him to get whatever he wanted in his 3D

Neville:

“The judge then said to me, “In all of my years on the bench I have never heard an appeal like this. Your wife tells me you want a divorce, and here you could have tangible evidence for it, yet you plead for her release.” He then sentenced her for six months and suspended the sentence. My wife waited for me at the back of the room and said: “Neville, that was a decent thing to do. Give me the subpoena and I will sign it.” We took a taxi together and I did that which was not legal: I served my own subpoena and she signed it. “Now, who was the cause of her misfortune? She lived in another state but came to New York City to do an act for which she was to be caught and tried.

Moonie:

See? She was in another state, but when she came to New York, she was "forced" to do a specific act, which later on became Neville's bridge of events to marrying his 2nd wife. Neville focused on the desire, aka marrying his 2nd wife and not the circumstances (the divorce papers).

Neville:

So, I say: every being in the world will serve your purpose, so in the end, you will say: “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do." “They will move under compulsion to do your will, just as my wife did.” “I tell this story only to illustrate a principle. You do not need to ask anyone to aid you in the answer to a prayer, for the simple reason that God is omnipotent and omniscient. He is in you as your own wonderful I Am ness. Everyone on the outside is your servant, your slave, ready and able to do your will.“

Moonie:

So if people have to move for you, then THEY WILL. Do you want your desire to get externalized faster? Forget about the timing and "trying" and start BEING. If 5000 people have to move for you in order for you to get your desire in a materialized way then they will have to run for you

Neville:

“All you need do is know what you want, Construct a scene which would imply the fulfilment of your desire. Enter the scene and remain there. If your imaginal counsellor (your feeling of fulfilment) agrees with that which is used to illustrate your fulfilled desire, your fantasy will become a fact. If it does not, start all over again by creating a new scene and enter it. In my own case the scene was a bedroom of an apartment, with my wife in one bed and I in the other, denoting that I was no longer living in a hotel alone. I fell asleep in that state, and within one week I had the necessary papers to start action on a divorce.“

Moonie:

You really don't need to beg, or lift up a finger to get whatever you want. Don't focus on the problem, focus on the solution, don't focus on the circumstance, focus on the end goal.

He really proved himself that all he needed to do was to stay true to his imagination.

Do you want your shit faster?

- go straight to the end, accept that your desire is yours (has already been externalized and is yours)

- stand firm

- forgive yourself, forgive the people in your reality bcs they are just playing their roles in your reality.

- It is not your job to worry about "the how" or "the when", your job is to define+decide your desire, then believe and trust yourself that its already yours

Because THERE IS NO SEPARATION

[hyunsungies]

shhh! — hwang hyunjin

pairing: hyunjin x fem reader

genre: pure smut

word count: 1.2k

warnings: masturbation (f receiving), hyun calls reader “good girl”, lmk if i forgot something!

english is not my first language, sorry for any mistakes :)

this was the first time you were visiting hyunjin’s parents. they called you to spend a night there with jinnie since he doesn't spend much time at home with his family. it was being a very good experience since the beginning: they were super nice to you. his mother praised your hair and his father said that his son was lucky to date a beautiful girl like you.

you spent most of your time talking to them, who asked a lot about your life, your family… both seemed very interested in you. fair enough, you were dating their son.

after the shower, just before dinner, you wore a flowery dress that hyunjin had given you as a gift. he was very cute and suited you very well, despite being short. you slightly suspected that he had given you this dress because of this last point. something that proves this was the fact that he slapped your ass as soon as you left the bathroom dressed.

when you looked in his direction with a disapproving face, jinnie smiled and blinked at you maliciously. he definitely only bought this dress because of its length.

it wasn't obscene in short, it was acceptable, but that was enough to make hyunjin horny.

literally. no wonder he didn't take his hand off your leg during dinner.

hidden by the tablecloth, jinnie touched your thigh at a very indecent place, almost revealing your panties, and caressed the place while you talked, causing you goosebumps. he continued to talk to his parents normally, as if he wasn't teasing you at that very moment, as if he wasn't making you wet. his intention was not to be inconvenient, but you looked so beautiful with this dress... he couldn't control himself.

“so, how didi you two meet?”

his mother asked. with a shiver on the back of your neck caused by hyunjin's hand, you tried to respond without showing that there was something wrong, something very very wrong.

he must be such a perverted to do something like this in front of his own parents. in addition to being perverted, very brave too, after all, at any moment one of them could realize that hyunjin's hand was in you, not in a romantic way, but in a nasty way.

the caress he made on your leg was putting you in a complicated situation. you had to cross your legs, afraid that the smell of your lust would reach the nostrils of any of them. it was the most tense dinner you've ever had in your entire life.

when everyone finished eating and you took out the dishes, you thanked the heavens that torture was over. all you wanted was to be able to ask hyunjin what the hell was going through his mind for him to do what he did with you. luckily, his parents didn't let you help with the dishes, which left you both free to have this conversation. as soon as you arrived in the guest room, he closed the door. you didn't had time to say anything. when you opened your mouth to complain about his attitude, jinnie pulled you by the hand against his body and gave you a seductive kiss.

despite being a little bit mad at him, you allowed yourself to fall into his charms now that you were alone. as much as you wanted to scold him, your desire for hyunjin at that moment, the desire he himself created, was bigger than the desire to understand what he thought when he decided to put his hand on you. that said, you just forgot about the subject and kept kissing him.

“so pretty…”

he separated your mouths to say, putting his hands on your ass soon after and squeezing the place tightly. you decided to interrupt your eye contact now to kiss him once again, because that's what your body wanted. it was crazy the way he could make you needy with just a kiss. since you were already starting to get wet at that dining table, your pussy must already be dripping now by the way he sucks and nibbles your lower lip.

at one point, one of hyunjin's hands went down to your clothed core and began to massage the place over your panties. his other hand remained on your back, keeping you close to his body.

“mhm…” you moaned against his lips.

“needing me?”

once again he broke your kiss and once again you felt like shutting him up, but this time you needed to expose your desires verbally, you needed to answer it.

“definitely”

he smiled at you. looking into your eyes, he slid your panties to the side and touched your intimacy already wet with lust.

“as long as you stay quiet…”

he said and inserted one of his fingers into you, which made you sting your nails on his shoulders and held a moan. his finger went back and forth at a slow pace. hyunjin seemed to have fun with the way you concentrated so as not to make any sound, he wouldn't stop smiling at you.

after a few seconds, another finger entered your walls. now, the rhythm of his movements was a little faster. you could hear the noise of your fluids coming out of you and that turned both of you on even more.

it was getting harder and harder to hold your moans. when he punched his own fingers inside you, jinnie stared at you enjoying the view. he liked to see your expressions of pleasure, especially your moans, something he couldn't have now. silence was something important right now, his parents could hear you if you released something and that would be terrible.

as his two fingers went in and out of you, his thumb started to draw circles on your clit, making you clench and melt in his hands. your body became more and more tense every time the palm of his hand crashed into your core.

the moans you held insisted on leaving, but you couldn't let them go. in an attempt to muffle these noises, you rested your head on hyunjin's shoulder and glued your lips to his neck, depositing kisses on the spot and keeping your mouth shut. it worked perfectly.

your kisses messed with him, so he began to press your clit harder, making you border on the madness of so much pleasure. you grabbed his shoulders with all your strength in a useless attempt to relieve the tension you felt. your desire was to shout his name so that the whole neighborhood could hear it, but you needed to be obedient now.

suddenly, you felt your orgasm approaching.

“hyun, ‘m gonna…”

your sentence was not finalized, but he understood the message. in response to you, the movements of his hand increased in strength and speed. now, anyone who went close the door would hear the noise you were making since you both were leaning against it.

your spine arched and you squeezed jinnie's shoulders harder. his pace was frantic now, going in and out quickly and intensely. tou were almost there, just a few more thrusts...

suddenly, your whole body shivered and you felt it tingle. your climax had finally arrived. your tightness on jinnie's skin weakened and you were panting. looking into your eyes, hyun smiled. he seemed proud of his work.

“good girl. wanna go again?”

[miguel-ohara-wifey]

okay hear me out… headcanons for spiderverse men that’s like how they act when their s/o is pregnant

I know I said I’d focus on my cowboy!Miguel fic but I’ve been waiting for this request! Ask and ye shall receive

Spiderverse men when there s/o is pregnant headcanons

Tag list: @alliwriteistrash I figured you’d like this

Rating: 18+, hurt/comfort, fluff, Angst

Peter B Parker

-Peter and you have tried at a baby for ages, but stopped before hand because some new threat emerged for Spider-Man, career opportunities you had to make priority, or some financial problems came up. Overall it hasn’t been ideal timing whenever you two wanted to try.

-Your body had other plans however, after a few days in a row of getting sick in the morning. Food tasting weird and having a sickly feeling in your stomach. You had to take a pregnancy test just to ease your anxiety. Unfortunately it didn’t, it was positive. Your body immediately starts to shake, you throw up for an entirely different reason.

-the twitching under your skin from fear stopped when you threw up. But your mind was still fraught with catastrophizing thoughts. What if you need an abortion, what if Peter doesn’t want the kid anymore, how would you play this when he gets home? Is Spider-Man even meant to have a child?

-You knew you couldn’t hide it from him in good conscience, when Peter arrives at your home with the groceries like he promised. Joking about the latest villain of the week he took down. You can’t help but start sobbing right when you spot his brown eyes. Not even knowing why, when he huddled you gently. Wiping your tears away asking what’s wrong. You relent how you took a pregnancy test and it’s positive.

-Before your knee jerk apology can be made he embraces you, conscious of your stomach in the tightening of his body around yours. He whispers how great that is, all your fears laid dead before you. But you still kept crying, expect out of pure joy. Peter meet you eye too eye, clearly joining in on the sob parade.

“You’re gonna make a daddy honey…I can’t wait.”

Miguel O’Hara

-You knew it wouldn’t be pretty when you told Miguel you were pregnant. Especially because you were going to have the baby. Miguel was furious, you two have been casual for a long time. You knew of Miguel’s past with Gabriella, not like he makes an effort to hid it. For fucks sake initiates get the holographic slide show of his trauma.

-Miguel isn’t characteristically raving and violent in this rage, not like you’ve ever felt unsafe around him. However you’ve seen enough of his anger to know it burns hot. But this was the cutting chill of dry ice, he plainly told you he’s not going to be the kids father. If you want the kid, you’re on your own. You sob and scream at him how he’s an asshole.

-He doesn’t exactly argue against that point, in fact he doesn’t argue at all. Just nods and leaves as you sob in defeat. You knew this would happen, he’d break your heart in the end. Yet the smallest speck from the deepest crevice of your mind believed otherwise. Cause you want him close. Miguel would always assure complete low commitment and non-existent emotional entanglement when you two started dating. Work is his true love and he wouldn’t dare let you compete.

-The day after, you slept in till the afternoon. Not even wanting to make yourself breakfast even if it meant silencing the gargling of your stomach. You hear a knock at the door. You figure it’s a package that got sent to you by accident. So no matter how terrible you feel you get out of bed. Opening the door, you see Miguel with your favorite breakfast meal from Panera.

-You angrily squint at him asking if he thinks this’ll make up for ditching you. He says it doesn’t, his eyes reddened from crying. He just says he knows you probably haven’t had any food yet today because of your argument. But he is sorry, he’s going to be there for you and the baby. He was a fucking asshole, your entire relationship. He loves you and never wanted to admit it. For what it’s worth he’s here for whenever or however long you’d have him.

“It’s okay if you’re still mad at me…but I know you’re craving this so just have some food.”

Hobie Brown

-This was a shock to both of you, you’ve always been safe despite all the kinkiness you get into. You’ve always had protection upon protection on top of taking regular std tests.

-Despite this shockwave through Hobie and your lives, the moment you tell him you want to keep it. He’s on board, he gets a head start on baby proofing the apartment. Engineering makeshift baby monitors and safe toys for the baby to play with. He starts reading parenting books and setting up the baby’s room in his off time. Making the room a vibrant red, doesn’t matter if the baby’s a boy or a girl. You’re gonna raise them to be a punk.

-Also watches after you carefully. Even when it means leaving his station as Spider-Man for a day. You and the precious future you’re carrying matters even more to him. He’ll be sure to get everything you crave. Even if he has to teach himself how to make sponge cake. If that’s what his baby mama wants it’s what his baby mama gets. He didn’t exactly get it, but you appreciated the sentiment regardless.

-Unfortunately now truly the worst of your pregnancy signs present themselves. You throw up almost every other morning, your favorite foods now don’t taste like anything cause your tastebuds have turned against you. And you’re fatigued easily so you have to take a few weeks off helping the movement. On top of the fact you always feel heavier and heavier as every day goes by.

-When your mood swings are at there highest to boot, you find an excuse to yell at him at any point. So he knows it’s best to leave the house for a couple of hours for you to cool off. Not to dismiss your feelings, but knowing his presence only exasperates your rage spike. So when he comes back with store bought sponge cake for you. You sob and apologize for getting mad at him. He takes it in stride, he knows this road will be bumpy as everything else is. But you’re in it together.

“It’s alright love, and don’t worry I won’t torture you with my sponge cake I bought you some…”

Spider-Man Noir

-Once you ask your darling to open the oven to take out what you were making. He saw a single bun on the rack, right after asking why there’s a bun in the oven. A second later he puts two and two together. He rushes over to you, via sliding on his knees against the wooden kitchen floors to your stomach.

-He sends pecks all over your gut while massaging it with his head. Almost already trying to hear your baby, his baby. Whispering as if your future child can hear you through its very tiny molecules. You giggle at this man’s infatuation with your stomach. Sure he’s always loved every part of you. But now he has two angels in his life.

-He unleashes all the parenting books he stocked up for just in case he’d ever be a dad. As well as makes you promise to quit work in a week to focus on yourself. He begins doing most of the chores you did around the house. Doting on you head to toe, not that you’re going to stop him. Especially when your mood swings begin to hit. You become extra clingy and needy.

-But his heart breaks when you say you’re sorry for not being as pretty anymore now that you’re starting to show. He’s devastated, he thinks you’re even more gorgeous now. The fact you’re carrying your soon to be family. His whole world, how could he not find you all the more irresistible? He corrects such by going down on you that night. “Having sex with a pregnant woman makes the baby a pervert later in life” be damned. You must know how much he can’t get enough of you.

-After such he cuddles you into him like he always does, his stringy brown locks mixed with sweat. As he can still taste your orgasm in his mouth. After you started to breath steadily again, you relent you believe him when he says he knows you’re the sexiest woman alive. He smiles so innocently despite the unholiness of the situation, he cloaks your body in a cool blanket. Kissing you on the cheek and telling you need sleep now.

“It’s never a labor to love you, and our family. Don’t forget that darlin…”

[tarjapearce]

Chapter 3: Innocent As A Lamb

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Emotional distress, mild comfort, angst, subtle hints of ptsd, more character background, confrontation, lies exposed, mild physical aggression, mentions of abortion,

Summary: Miguel isn't used to consequences.

Pt. 4

A/N: Finally got this down ❤️. Hope to live up to this jskjs.

We have to talk. Meet me at the parking lot.

The message had truly confused him, he wasn't one for texting, much less engaging into something so vain and boring like making acquaintances in work, unless they provided something substantial he could use in his favor. Had someone spread out his number again?

The thought made his lips morph into a smirk. Was this another crazed woman obsessed over him he didn't know about, even though some of the lab staff knew he was engaged?

Miguel wasn't immune to gossips, yet being the reason of one, was borderline amusing. It was rare when they managed to actually divert his attention to anything that wasn't work or Dana.

The latter however seemed more vexing and pestering than usual, he truly couldn't identify a culprit. But the ways of making up kept a smile on his face for long enough until the cycle repeated itself again.

Once married things would likely turn for the worse. Dana had been already increasing her control over him and viceversa. Always caught up in the neverending power play that somehow he ended up winning with flying colors. A sore loser and a bad winner.

Thrilling at first, but now everything but fun. Miffing in fact. And it showed in his eyes whenever she wasn't around but still, she managed to sour or dull his expression either via calls or messages.

He had been with her for long enough, but the benefits she offered were way too rewarding to let go. He knew what he represented in Dana's life.

A rich, hunk and trophy soon-to-be husband.

But as long as he was left unbothered while working or having her shut up, he didn't care. In fact, he flipped a finger on life long time ago and ever since none of his irreverence and cynism stopped.

He tossed the briefcase in the car and then hopped in, after confirming a dinner date, for the umpteenth time with her future bride and torment.

She loved getting under his skin, but he enjoyed enough in getting inside her to quiet her down enough to leave him alone. It was like sex was one of the only true reasons they remained together, no matter how much they disguised it as love. A long term lust that had sufficed them both enough to go by.

Cause in truth, love had been shoved to the back of the shelf and forgotten after the two year mark. Complacency takin it's place.

A new array of seasonings like jealousy, disrespect, cheating had joined the rack, casting a deep shadow over love, pushing it to the very end of the already malnourished emotional ledge.

Straying away from what had originally brought them together yet unable to let go. Yet again complacency had made both too cozy and lazy to expand their horizons in meeting new sort of people and shaping new bonds. Perpetuating the Chernobyl-like situation brewing between the both to a new level.

He never looked back. Always moving forward either the good or bad way, but moving. Not stopping for nothing and anyone, something he had learned from the least suspecting person in his life. His biological father. Tyler had showed him through actions, and not precisely in a healthy way. He had learned all that someone must never teach a man.

Liar, deceiver, manipulator, and so many more things that one would never believe if someone said 'Miguel O'Hara is a cheater.' Way too disingenuous to keep a remarkable reputation of a recluse and engaged genetic engineer.

But of course, there was a big chance someone had messaged him by accident. He blocked the number a couple of minutes later after receiving it.

He drove away.

"Pregnant?"

MJ's stonishment was upsetting. Not because you hadn't told her, but rather the circumstances the life changing event were conceived.

Her face paraded with so many emotions since it was hard to not feel something wrong about it, and the whole fiasco screamed and thrashed with all sorts of wrongness.

But even so, the absence of a judging stare made your senses to relax a bit, even if you were sprawled in your bed and her hands caressed your hair in a measly attempt to soothe your frying nerves. Her motherly antics paid off for a bit.

"He knows, right?"

Your silence earned a blasé sigh from the redhead.

"How is he going to know he fucked up if you don't tell him!?"

"It's not as simple as you think, MJ. He's sneaky. I sent him a text message, and surprise, he blocked the number."

Mary Jane blinked a couple of times, processing your mumblings.

"My goodness what a dick!."

"He is. Just... I'll tell him."

"Do you think he's gonna-"

"Tell me to fuck off?. That's for sure. If anything, I've already taken a choice."

"And, are you sure of it?"

With a shaky breath you sat on the bed, facing your best friend. A script writer and part of a theatrical troupe. You had met her after going on a date with a guy that was obsessed over the company's plays.

And most importantly, a mother of a one year old you had scarcely seen and met, just like her husband. Two times to be precise. In her wedding and MJ's baby shower. But her baby, a lovely girl called Mayday was always present in her phone's gallery.

"I am sure. I... I'm so not ready for this." You bit your inner cheek briefly, "I don't wanna be a mom. Much less knowing that my hypothetical child would be the next Cain."

MJ shot a confused look your way.

"You know, God punished him with a permanent mark on his forehead so none would kill him."

"Right" her ginger brow raised at your words

"But it was his way of punishing him by letting everyone know what he had done." You gestured with flailing hands in the air, "In few words, I'm sparing the child a really fucked up talk on how I met their sperm donnor."

MJ casted her eyes away, she knew things were messed up as they were, even though her mind wandered towards a curious yet forbidden territory of wondering how you'd look with a pregnant belly, she knew things just didn't work like that.

Maternity in most of the cases arrived in unexpected ways, yet, not everyone embraced it with open arms and happy tears. You had been already so brave to see the news through, even though your brain still needed to catch up with them.

MJ held your hand and pulled you closer to her. All of the people you could confide in was her. Out of everyone, she knew better than anyone what was like to be a mother. She'd call you in the verge of tears sometimes saying how much she wanted to call it quits. Empathy was one of best traits.

"No matter what you choose, I'm sure it'll be for the best. And if you want me to be there for you, I will."

"I know, thank. I... don't even wanna tell him, cause what use would be? I'm sure he doesn't even remembers-"

"Still, you must tell him. He owes you an explanation."

"Doubt he's happy or even cooperating in giving one."

Your hand was squeezed gently. There wasn't much that needed to be said, terrifying as it was the confrontation was a must. Mostly for your own closure, you needed that chapter in your life over once and for all and if it meant to look up for a new job, away from him and the mess, then so be it.

Dread.

The bravado you had mustered a week ago was now dead, leaving a strong trepidation in its place.

In your mind, the conversation had been replayed over and over you had even learned the possible outcomes in the answer and neither of them was good or comforting.

Nauseous stomach and Bambi-like legs walked you over your work spot. Like a cage, with tiny space in between it's bars, allowing little to no room for you to try and escape.

Your body could, but the mind had already sentenced itself for a long time, imprisoned with the same thoughts over again. Miguel was your cage, and you weren't that sure you'd ever be free.

A tiny part of your reasoning cheered you to seek freedom by telling him.

The truth will set us free

Of course, but it always came with a price, and maybe you didn't have enough to pay it.

As the day marched through the eight hour's end, your thoughts gravitated with anger. Be it the hormones changing, or the constant voice telling you to confront him, brought back a little bravado you thought dead. You had asked for permission to be let go an hour earlier to intercept him.

And this time there was no escape. No more cold shoulders, no more waiting, even if your body wasn't listening to you and definitely no more niceties.

Taking your purse and the proofs of your condition in your hand, you marched towards the parking lot. Ready for a battle you were sure was lost before it started. A Leonidas versus Xerxes. 

You waited in one of the benches scattered around the place, eyes trained to the exit door. Waiting felt like forever and being pregnant surely made it worse. It was like pregnancy granted you the power to slow time, but instead of being a blessing, it was proving to be a nuisance.

But there he was, parading himself with a belittling swag as he moved through the other workers. Face blasé, jaw tightened and fist clenching tightly at a little leather folder he had smothered in his large hand.

He pulled out his keys, and deactivated the car's alarm.

You stood. Heart beating a mile per second, breathings deep and shaky, just as your steps towards him. You could run away and hide, spare him the truth and the already brewing verbal assault you were unprepared to take part in. Spare him and you the immediate disgust.

But you weren't God to forgive.

A deep exhale was taken before approaching him carefully while he fumbled with the keys on his hand. Your narrowing steps alerted him, and your shape came into view in his window's reflection.

He turned and for a second, you wished he didn't.

Deep rusty brown eyes stared at you, after recognizing your face, anger in them betraying his unbothered demeanor. The keys stopped tinkering as they were scrunched up in his fist.

"What do you want?"

You frowned, he glared. An iceberg was warmer than his own voice.

"We need to talk."

Plump lips twitched into a scowl on his frightening face.

"We've got nothing to talk about. Everything's pretty fucking clear between us. Or do you want me to spell it for you?"

"Is it really hard for you to stop being an idiot?"

A derisive 'tsk' from him while you narrowed your eyes into a glare. As he turned to face you, his arms crossed his chest, enlarging him even more, but you didn't coward. Anger rivaled your politeness, but every word that came off him made the ire tab to go skyrocketing.

"Amuse me, then."

He gestured with a hand towards you, inviting and mocking to then going back to their original position. Your lips trembled as you spoke.

"I'm pregnant."

His eyelids drooped lazily, clearly unamused yet still you had managed to pull out a genuine laugh off him.

"Dios mío..." He raked a hand over his head, shoulders shaking in little laughter, even though it all was stemmed out of an underlying doubt and rising anxiety.

"If you want money to keep it quiet, just say it."

"God, just when I think you can't go lower, here you are proving me wrong." Your anger spoke for you and he had to hold back a snort, "I don't want your money, or anything that comes from you."

The irrefutable proofs of that night, printed on those pages were shoved into his hands.

"What is this?" His voice skeptical and subtly alarmed as the clinic's logo came into his vision.

"Consequences. Care to explain how on earth that happened?"

His eyes scanned the paper, laughter and derision slowly dying the further he read on. His eyes narrowed at a certain part of the information. 9 weeks.

"So?"

His eyes glared at you to then go back to the paper and the ultrasound pictures. A little bean-like creature was growing within. A creature that had part of his DNA, forming itself with each passing day, enclosed in a comfy looking cocoon.

No.

His hands grope the paper so tight it had crumpled mercilessly under his snapping fingers. His body had turned frigid, paralized with a crashing and burning numbness spreading through his limbs. Muscles on his extensive and mountainous shoulders contracted in such rigidness, he looked liked he'd break and snap at any second.

No. No. No.

Yet they rose erratically, matching his breathings. A hand was able to let go from the paper, only to rake through his hair once more, as if trying to scruff out the chaotic thoughts. He kept looking between you and the paper.

"This..." He gulped, tasting his own words. In truth he had already forgotten about that night, but for you to return with such news was the cherry on top of a shitty day.

"Amused enough?"

"Get rid of it."

He pushed the paper back in to your hands while seething, the mere touch of them burning his skin. A biting and bitter laugh came out of your lips as your eyes glistened.

"What?"

"Get rid of it. You don't want it, neither do I. Why keeping it?"

"How. That. Happened?"

Your tone was everything but friendly, yet you were restraining in giving a piece of your mind. But his hand reached for your arm and pulled you, more like dragged you to a more secluded space, away from prying eyes.

"Let me go!" With a shove and a slap away of his hand, you freed yourself.

With a deep breath, a hulking figure loomed over you with a glare. How dared you in hindering his plans?

"Listen to me very carefully, if you tell anyone about this-"

"Are you seriously threatening me?"

"You don't understand." Venom and vitriol spilled through clenched teeth. His hands were trying to decide which place was better to anchor itself from, clenching them only fueled his anger, and pacing around wasn't helping either.

"You are the one that seems to not be understanding. I'm not asking, I want to know how this happened, Miguel!"

That was definitely a way he hated hearing his name. So full of anger and demand. Just like Dana.

"It's your fault." He couldn't help but muster, more to himself than to you, "How... How couldn't you notice this?" Voice betraying the grittiness in his demeanor for a second.

"My fault?!" glossy eyes in anger widened as he kept spilling his accusations. "Must I remind you what happened that night? We fucked. In bathroom stall."

"For all I know that... thing isn't even mine, and you just-"

"Just what?! Try to put the blame on you?! Bold of you to think I have the time in whoring around like you do!"

His nose flared, relieving the brewing and piping hot steam.

"You can't... you can't do this to me, I can't do this." His hands clenched in his lab coat pockets. Then they rubbed his face.

"You think this is easy for me?!"

"I have a career."

He seethed and you couldn't help but laugh bitterly. His eyes followed you, settled to make an intimidating tactic you seemed temporsr immune to.

"So do I."

He scoffed at your words while pinching the bridge of his nose.

"No you don't. Not like I do."

"I'm not even asking you for anything but the truth. What happened? You're the only person I've hooked up with."

"Yeah, could fucking tell." He took a little check book and scribbled some things on it. Then put it right next to you, in the car's hood.

"I don't know how much you'll need, but get rid of it. The sooner, the better."

You heart stopped for a second as a flurry of emotions crossed your face.

You weren't one for fearing or hating monsters, but this one before you, made you shiver and recoil with something so damn familiar it instantly got you lunging for him, ready to make for his face.

He caught your hand before you could actually slap him with the freshly written check. Grip tightening, yet you were too angry and hormonal to care about the pain. Hot and angry tears were no match for his careless and cold stare. He seized you once more before letting you go, nearly shoving you out of his way.

He wasn't moved by your silent crying, either angry or sad, he just watched you with a gaze that would be translated into an 'Are you done?'

You weren't. But defeat had been pulling out all trace of energy that remained on you. No matter how many times you asked, he avoided the question and he just proved he didn't have any intentions of giving you one, or anything of the sort.

He clearly didn't want anything to do with you or the child accidentally conceived.

"What are you doing, Miguel?"

But he knew what happened. The condom had broke, expiration date had been one of the reasons it ripped. He knew he had to change it. But his mind was on the tip of his dick. Awaiting to attack your snug insides again. 

Wiping the little dignity you had in your eyes, your shaking hands were about to reach for the papers on the floor when you saw a pair of cream colored heels, that carried the beautiful woman you were dying to set free from the maws of lying and cheating monster.

Dana's perturbed voice echoed through the open space and then evolved into an acute ringing in your ears, muffling her voice for a minute before you rushed to the nearest trash bin to empty the bile that had rose during the fight.

A clear Stop it, from your body.

Both Dana and Miguel watched you, doubling over the bin and holding your hair to prevent a further mess. Incredulity and horror struck them both. Miguel specially.

Stress made the sensations and pregnancy affairs a hundred times worse.

"Dana..." Miguel warned, but his fiancé was way too gone into staring you retch, recognizing a little piece of what had been happening. She had arrived when Miguel was writing you the check hearing more than enough.

"Let's go home, corazón."

Miguel spoke but Dana's eyes darted to the papers on the floor along the written check. Legs moving to where they were and picked them up.

Ultrasound pictures, some medical prescriptions and the most important thing, your diagnose. After this weekend passed, you'd be turning ten weeks.

You were too busy to notice the brunette's hand trembling and covering her mouth as she kept on reading.

"Dana-"

The click of her heels and firm slap echoed through, making your attention to go back to them. Miguel was looking to the floor, a flushed cheek with his fiancé's hand, and the woman herself looking like she was about to commit murder and he the next victim.

"Liar!"

You could only look away at the raw and ugly pain behind those words. He had fooled her enough. Dana did what you couldn't, a tiny solace to your bleeding soul.

"How could you?!" A quiet sob before the brunette turned to you, air trapped in your lungs as she prowled over you. Cheeks ready to receive the impact, but this never came, at least not right away.

"Dana, wait!"

"You whore!" Miguel grabbed her last second but she only thrashed in his arms, struggling to let go, trying with all her might in freeing herself from the monster's claws.

"I didn't know he was engaged! I'm sorry!"

Words kept flowing between broken sobs and sour mouth. Miguel looked like considering letting her go so you could have a taste from her wrath, but seeing you ready to take the hit made the urge to go away, infuriating him even more.

So righteous.

"Don't bullshit me, you slut!"

"He wasn't wearing a ring when I met him! How was I supposed to know?!"

That phrase alone made Dana to remain still. Her heart visibly breaking in tiny shards, so small they could be blown away with the wind. Fat tears rolled down her trembling cheeks. Miguel could glare even more to you if possible. He didn't know what pissed him the most that you were ready to face the consequences or the fact that you were spilling everything out.

"H-He wasn't?"

If the circumstances were different, you'd wrap her arms around her to prevent her breaking even more. But the only thing you managed to do was to admit everything. Sacrificial lamb ready to be slaughtered, unafraid of death.

"He wasn't."

As Miguel lowered his grip Dana came for you, holding you by the lapels of your blazer. Her dainty fingers wrinkling the fabric impossibly tight under her grip. Some of her nails dug on your skin. She trembled, eyes unwavering over your steadfast ones.

"I'm so sorry... If I had known that... he was engaged I would never have approached."

"For how long have you been doing this? Answer me!"

She pleaded. Unlike Miguel, you were providing with answers that only put the remains of her broken and stepped on heart on a shredder, but the more you talked, the more the weight on them was lifted off your shoulders.

"It was one time-"

"Where?"

"In... in the Alchemax Retirement party. I'm so sorry, miss, I had no i-"

Your words were cut short by another slap. She sting spreading through your right cheek.

"Get out of my sight" Dana shoved the papers back into your hands and pushed you away from her, "Get out!".

Your legs scrambled you away, you could hear a metallic sound clinking on the floor, Dana had removed her ring and threw it at Miguel, only to bounce off the floor. Miguel could only watch the expensive relic getting soiled at his feet.

"Say something!"

She wasn't ordering, but pleading to have answers. You knew she'd get none, since you didn't have yours.

Car keys fumbled in your hands, you needed to get out before anything else happened. Miguel’s eyes burning into you, they stalked your every movements and expressions.

But you had laid bare before the both and took the punishment like a champ. The car's engine purred, drowning out the sound out. You could see Dana speaking in an accusing manner as Miguel tried to get a hold on her. As much as you were a homewrecker now, you could sleep a little better knowing that you had saved her from getting married to a man like Miguel.

The latter proved to be cornered, but he didn't lash out. And that only sent a new wave of anxiety to wash over you. What he was planning? The check was scrounged up like your medical data.

His penmanship a tad sloppy, but the traces looked almost like he was intending to tear through the paper. You drove off, watching them both from aside. Miguel's eyes locked with yours once more.

You stared at danger itself in the face, but you weren't afraid anymore.

You drove away. Forced to escape the aftermath.

MJ held your hand as you both made your way inside a bigger center, shielding you away from some religious protesters outside the building.

Just as your words had forseen, his reaction had only made your previous resolution to ground even more.

Mind set in getting your old life back. Even if it was dull, boring and full of so many average moments, you wanted it back.

You wanted to go out drinking, dance till your feet hurt, instead of hurting for the many times you went to the bathroom. You needed to feel normal, annoyed even whenever your boss caught you slacking for something you could control and not because a pregnancy.

But more importantly, you wanted to feel normal again. The same as usual, underpaid receptionist that was another worker in a big multinational company.

Not an underpaid, used, threatened and pregnant with the child of an engaged man that had done nothing but test your patience. This wasn't in your job's description.

And pretty sure, the woman next to you in the women's center wasn't made for comforting either. She cursed at her unborn child in between ugly sobs, saying how much she wished to never have appeared back in that house, wherever it was, to whoever it belonged.

A stark contrast to the woman right before you, looking at her ultrasound images with such joy you'd never had the chance to understand nor wanted to. Too exhausted with your own thoughts to make some Instrospection on your heart's opinion. MJ sat next to you, her warm and soothing hands never left yours.

Half of the room felt red, warm, homey and full of proud future mother's that without a doubt would give their children whatever they deserved. They smiled and shared their stories among eachother, like if they had just won over the lottery. Some even went to the extent of be ecstatic upon each other's ultrasound picture.

And you sat on the blue side. Mothers that didn't want their child over so many different vicissitudes.

Some unable to carry on the pregnancy due the lack of a decent living place, homelessness, Some too young to be there, yet old enough to go under the scrutiny of a doctor to confirm what they already knew. Others with a faulty body that would be nothing but trouble, it was rare the woman that came in like nothing had happened, ready to resume their old lives, unbothered and emotionally unscathed.

"How much do I must wait to get rid of it?"

The blasé voice murmured behind you, unknowingly of the damage that had resurfaced in your memories, just like Miguel's words.

Get rid of it.

Get rid of her.

It was one of the few phrases the woman that gave birth to you, engraved in your childish brain as she was contained by the turn's lover, avoiding the imminent physical damage to fall upon you.

But what to do, when the most hineous form of impairment had already wounded you?. Crippling you to this very day. It didn't help the foster homes you were taken to after, followed a likely pattern.

Unstable, erratic, hot and cold and so confusing, blurring and tarnishing parenthood's concept too much to make a healthy definition out of it. And as soon as you hit the eighteen's to your little surprise, the system let your hand go.

Get. Rid. Of. Her.

A hard swallow and a shaky breath. sides turned a pale hue of lilac for a moment.

The sooner the better.

You weren't getting rid of the seed growing within you because you hated it. All the opposite. You were being merciful and compassionate. Borderline loving even.

Right?

Your name was called, and everyone's eyes turned to you, some hopeful, a silent plea to keep it, others encouraging, pushing you deeper in the hallway that lead to the surgery room, and others understanding. There was no judging, specially from the blue side. MJ nodded to you, encouraging to keep walking, yet a bit of hesitation remained on them.

With every step you gave, the room came closer, reaching an arm to you, so tempting and inviting to finally grant you what you had been longing for the past days.

Getting rid of it.

Another gulp, but this one was harder to deglute since a solid knot had been  tightening in your throat with such force, you were sure you couldn't scream even if your life depended on it.

Like mother, like daughter.

Stomach queasy and oh so dreading to what came next. An open door, tools and equipment ready to be used in your little seed. Brain storming with flashing colors that had you wincing at the plain white light.

The thought alone of resembling in any form of your mother was revolting. Your feet haltered as the doctor ventured herself in. Hands shook, unable to be still, unable to grasp yourself completely. A thick tear rolled down your cheek, then another one followed.

The only thing I regret is not getting an abortion sooner.

A sniffle, your steps approached closer to it. Sterile white filled in with pristine smells. Despite not remembering her face anymore, her voice remained etched on you like a ghost. Leeching on your memories and hindering all possibilities of letting go.

God, I swear. I don't even know what I am paying.

With a trembling jaw and lip, you stepped back.

I was happier, way much happier before you showed up.

Even though the room was open and the doctor called you in, you didn't dare to enter. No matter how tempting and cozy it seemed inside. Just like your foster homes had been initially. You weren't happy to be here, a rush of panic made it's way through your legs, stomach and throat. Rising without any forgiveness.

Why won't my baby just die? Why?! Is not that hard, sweetie.

She had said with all the loveless voice someone could muster after you had spilled her pills down the toilet by accident. Cold and unfeeling hands tightening around your ten year old neck, your little pleas unheard. The same rush of panic flooded your senses, freezing any rational thought with it's biting glacial maws. You were in danger.

Let me show you, baby.

You ran. Ran in the direction you had came in, ignoring the doctor's calling you, the unified shocked stares as you crossed the clinic's threshold. MJ trailing behind you with a perturbed look in her face as she called your name. Everything in your body buzzed, but one thing had you folding and crying in an alleyway.

The child's heart.

Beating with such intensity along yours. Uneven at first, but then in a rhythmic and single one. Strong, steady and very much alive. Grateful even.

MJ's voice called you, to then rush to you.

"I'm so sorry... I can't-"

"It's ok." Hands wrapped around you, cradling you with nothing but tenderness and care. She shushed you and attempted to wipe your tears whole you shook your head vehemently.

You couldn't. You weren't brave enough yet.

"Do you want to get back inside?"

A little shake of your head. Mary Jane helped you to stand and wrapped her sweater around you, promising you'd be fine. Promising that everything would be alright.

"Let's go home, ok?"

Your hands tightened around your lower belly while guilt flooded your senses. You weren't ready to be a mother, that was much true, but you weren't also ready to make such a life changing decision, yet time was running out.

It wasn't thrilling. Yet, you knew an honest talk awaited once you got home.

And this time, a desicion would be born out of your rational side, not from your feelings and fucked up memories.

Your heart however, had turned a shade lighter of lilac, borderline pink.

----

Taglist:

@death-moth-art @miss-taura @xylianasblog @serpentstarr @randomnobody187  @8xbygirl @artyanimi @ittybxttykxttytxtty @del-ightfulling @iytatsworld @moonzuzuu @huehuehuehuehehe @ryk-mt @deputy-videogamer @sizeablysized @katitakenway @stealyourblorbos @beingdeluluisthesolulu @death-moth-art @obsessedwithromance @crybabiix @taeecups @tremendouswolfsaladranch @cherrycosmos392 @sbrn0905 @xylianasblog   @elgatofx @eepiebeepie @vonev @tatatida @freehentai @scaryplanetdestroyer @minalovesyoubabes @emeloyy @migueloharastruelove @jdbxws @m4dyy @nyxzoldyck6 @fruitychae @francesca-the-1st @siidmm @ana-paulinathe-arts @artyanimi @damhanallagorm @aockskcw @lauraolar14 @what-is-your-wish @oharasfilipinawife @jellyboob

[glorismorningstar]

PREGNANT

A/N: thanks for the request anon, can't wait to receive more <3

Pairing: Vox x fem!angel!reader

Summary: Vox is about to be a father, and the mother of the child is an angel.

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. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Around the end of the third trimester, VOX is all over the place trying to make you feel comfortable

He does everything in his power to take time off work and be with you

Before he used to ask Velvette to drop by on you once in a while because she was certainly less busy than him

Ever since he had noticed your baby bump shaped a little different than usual, he had been trying his best to fit in time with you in his jam-packed schedule

The way your belly was round at the upper and lower swell, but had four edges and was flat at the front made it clear that the child had inherited his technological head

While he was absolutely over the moon, you were flipping out, wondering however in the nine rings you were going to give birth to a flat screen TV

As he empathized with your distress, he did whatever he could to help you feel better

He made whatever compromise with Heaven he possibly could to let you stay with him and the Vees until further notice

Vox made an agreement with Velvette to keep Valentino away from you, he didn't want you or his future child anywhere near his colleague's filth

Of course she agreed, Val and his obscenities wouldn't even breathe the same air as you as long as she or Vox were around

Time seemed to fly by so fast, in his eyes it felt like yesterday you were showing him the pregnancy test, and now you're in labour

"Vox... I- I think I'm having a contraction..."

He immediately drops whatever it is he's doing and rushes to your side, screen lagging and stuttering as he tried to get his shit together

On the way to the hospital he lets you clench his hand as hard as you need, somehow he comprehends that you're feeling a pain that no man will ever experience

As you're taken to the delivery room, he can't find it in himself to leave your side

He holds your hand while you attempt pushing, clearly in vain

It was physically impossible to push the screen through your cervix, the only thing visible being the tiniest glimpse of the edge of the screen

But through all your attempts to push the baby out, you grip his hand a little too hard and accidentally bruised the bones in his hand

While you're whisked away for the C-section, Vox gets a scan of his hand to make sure nothing's fractured

When it's finally okay for him to see you and the baby, he rushes in and absolutely showers you in affection and praise

"You're wonderful, darling. You did so good, I'm so proud of you."

"If it's possible, I think I love you even more right now."

"Do you understand how strong and amazing you are?"

You just giggle, exhausted, and let your head fall to his shoulder, allowing him to brush stray curls away from your sweaty forehead

"You want to meet your daughter?"

"Of course I do, darling- oh, it's a girl?"

His heart is almost exploding, especially when the little girl is handed to him, cocooned into a fluffy blanket

He's almost scared to pick her up, not wanting to cause any harm to his child

"She's so beautiful..." he whispers, smiling down at the tiny baby

"Of course she is, she's all you." You reply, gazing up at him with utter admiration

He presses a loving kiss to your forehead at the comment, moved by your affection for him

"What do you want to name her?" He asks.

"Pixel."

You had come up with the name a little while after your baby bump grew screen-shaped

Vox adores it

While raising Pixel, he's still dead set on protecting her from Val

Him and his special movies had their own place in the world, and he sure as hell knew it wasn't anywhere near his daughter

Heaven allows you a few more months of maternity leave, which had even surprised Emily

They never took kindly to angels even associating with demons, imagine being impregnated by one

But regardless, you don't pry, opting to spend the time you had left with Pixel and Vox rather than wondering to what degree you're valuable to Heaven for them to grant you such an exception

He finally has his own little family, and he's going to do everything in his power to protect it

[loveyourownsmiilee]

Ok no because knowing Tim is fully back as showrunner and he wrote the first episode, in which we have that Buckley Diaz family scene, I’m legit losing it at the possibilities. As @shammers86 mentioned, Tim played a huge role in Eddie’s shooting, plus the aftermath. Some things he said about that storyline were:

Tim is the same person who wrote Shannon off because he didn’t think they would ever be able to redeem her in the fans’ eyes after her leaving Christopher. So knowing what we now know of what’s to come in s7, Shannon’s letter is going to be an important factor that sets up Eddie and Christopher’s storyline for the season. And it’s such a choice to have Buck there before that whole thing goes down. We know Chris already trusts Buck and confides in him, which is most likely what’s happening when Buck is sitting on his bed with him. So it’s likely Chris mentions his mom, which then causes Buck to look at the picture on Chris’ desk.

It makes sense for Buck to then have a talk with Eddie about what Christopher confided in him. Which further strengthens the theory that Buck and Eddie are in fact coparenting Chris together.

Buck either tells Eddie exactly what Chris said or hints at the topic, which then prompts Eddie to bring out Shannon’s letter.

Now why are all these things important? Well Tim has always been pro Buddie whether we wanna believe it or not. He’s always put on a front where he neither confirms or denies it but just his recent actions have proved that he’s leaning more towards keeping this Buddie dynamic the way we all know and love. Him sharing all those Buddie related stills, talking about how they’re reenforcing dynamics and then showing us these three as a family unit can only be a good thing for us. I just don’t see how Tim could bring up Shannon and then not acknowledge the will of it all. Buck is there for a reason. Also, Chris doesn’t look all that sad after that letter has been opened. Which makes me think he’s slowly working through his grief and is in a place now where he doesn’t have to hurt as much when thinking of his mother. This also can be because if Eddie does bring up the will and Buck being Christopher’s legal guardian, maybe that’s why he’s content and not all that sad. Maybe Chris himself has accepted that Buck plays a parental role in his life and just having his father confirm that is a huge relief to him.

All this to say, I think Tim has been slowly pushing the Buddie agenda. And I am interested to know if he’s doing that because he fully has plans to have them be together romantically or he’s just giving us this family dynamic to appease us without actually giving us anything more. Suffice to say but I truly don’t see how they would even come back from reaffirming these three as a family unit on a new network only to have both gentlemen end up with other people. Now is the time for them to either truly distance these men or continue building this family unit. And given the stills we’ve received, I mean it’s not hard to see what choices they’ve made.

[miioouu]

Mean Dad's Best Friend! Ghost pt4

Continuation of this part. 

In which Ghost walks in on you and Price. they make you choose between them. This is a shorter one, more of an introduction for the ending, although suggestive, this part is more aimed to connect the plot :) Tw: smut, age gap, oral (f receiving) Wc: 1.5k 

     He's an unpredictable man. When you were expecting him to scold you, yell and shout at you for choosing another man instead of him, all he did was just ignore your entire existence. No more texts asking you to send him your outfit for the day, no more showing you the pretty pyjama set he's planning on getting you, no more demanding pictures of your fingers stuffing your pretty pussy for him. Nothing, as if he doesn't know you, and somehow that got on your nerves even more. A shouting Ghost is something you expect, you've learned how to deal with by now. A silent Ghost on the other hand, scared you, terrified you even.

      That being said, and he wishes it was the contrary, you weren't that preoccupied with his absence; you have someone else to fuck your pretty mind stupid. John, John, John… The line that creases near his eyes when he smiles so prettily. His long lashes that tickle you when he nibbles your neck. John, John, John… The way he kisses you so gently, as if you were a fragile crystal. The way he holds you close, you can feel his heartbeat against your chest. The way he fucks you, the way he treats you, the way he loves you. John, John, John…the only man on your mind lately, as if Simon never existed.

      But it's too early to say you've moved on, you want to believe that you've moved on, but during your lonely nights, you stare at the bright screen of your phone, hoping that he'd text you again. You scroll through the messages, reliving all those moments. And ugh, why are you so obsessed with him?! But he's not doing better. He too is feeling as if something is missing, and gosh since when did Ghost have feelings, feelings for you? You weren't supposed to mean anything to him, just a cute naive girl who he'd fuck from time to time, someone to keep him entertain. But then again you weren't supposed to leave him for his superior. Your heart eyes belong to him, should be aimed at him and him only. Your pretty smile should've been caused by him. Your shivers were his doing. Your moans were because of his dick. He's going to win you back, no matter what, he'll teach you a lesson.

      Although the military lifestyle should have granted him impeccable timing, when it comes to you, Ghost always had a sense to ruin a moment. 

       Your hands gripped the sheets underneath you, your teeth dug in your bottom lips trying to keep you quiet. “Shhh pretty girl, don't want your dad to find me here, right?” John's voice was as soft as always, as condescending as ever, but it only made you roll your eyes in pleasure. You nodded, your fingers lace in his hair as he nibbled on your inner thighs, slowly moving closer and closer to where you needed him the most. Fluttering, light like feather kisses were left on your clit. Tender and sweet, like cotton candy, he savoured you. His tongue languidly circling your bud of nerves, suckling on it, making your chest heave in pleasure. And his mumbles, his mouth moved against you as he praised you “Pretty girl, everything about you is so sweet hmm?” and “Mmm, never tasted anything better than that” and “Yeah, I'd do that all night if you'd let me”. Who are you to deny him? You barely could respond, your back arching off the bed and your whines were enough answers for him, eager to make you feel on cloud nine over and over again. 

    Sometimes, Price can be rough. He likes to bend you over, put his hand on your mouth as he fucks you from behind, and although he tells you to keep quiet, he's the one who should watch his voice, his grunts are loud and echo in the room. There's no doubt your father knows you have a guest, although he'd never imagine it to be his comrade. And sometimes, he likes to be romantic. He likes to make you feel loved, memorise your body and your sounds, carve you in his mind as if he were Michael Angelo and your pleasure was holy marble. He likes to feel you; rough hands travel across your soft body, the texture of his callouses like electric eels, shock you with intense bliss, it's almost unbearable. 

      And sometimes, just like tonight, John gives you the best of both worlds. His palms are worshipping your thighs as he holds them on his shoulders, right where they belong. His mouth, dirty, spits profanities the way his spit lands on your twitching clit. And he devours you, like a starved animal having its meal for the first time in forever, like a thirsty man having a drop of water for the first time in forever. John Price loves you, there's no doubt about it; he tells you, but he shows it more. The way he places your pillow under your back for comfort. The way he looks at you through his pretty eyelashes, the way he dedicates himself to you, like a goddess that no one can pull him away from. Not moral compass, not rationality, and certainly not the sound of the front door opening and closing quickly, too heavy footsteps to be your father's getting closer to your room.

     It's a horror for two of you, a wish come true for one. The captain couldn't dream of a better way to show your past ‘lover’ that You've moved on. He stickered against your pussy, the vibration would've had you moaning if it weren't for the eye contact you're holding with the masked man standing at your door. You and him both feel like it's a nightmare. You because of the embarrassment, him because someone beat him, because he lost. Although it seems that way, be won't let it happen. He scoffs as he walks in “Seriously… You've replaced me already?” You would've talked back but the hint of hurt in his voice got you raising your eyebrow curiously instead. He cares? Since when? Why does your heart skip a beat? Was it because Ghost showed some emotion for the first time, or was it because Price looked at you defeated?

      He was hopeful. John was hopeful. He wanted to believe that he helped you forget the mean man, that he truly did replace him. But he's not that delusional. He knew that no matter how hard he tried your mind was filled with that ghost. No matter how much he wanted to, he'd never dethrone him in your heart. He huffs and pulls away, his lips glistening with spit and your arousal, his eyes leave yours for a split second to look at his subordinate. “How'd you even get in?” he didn't want to know actually, wasn't curious at all, he just wanted to say something and ease the tension in the air. The younger man just rolls his eyes and walks closer, puts both hands on your knees to close your legs, shooting you a pointed look that screams 'only I can see that part of you'. 

       All three of you are annoyed now, you truly didn't know how to react, or what was even going on with the way they are glaring at each other; something like them communicating secretly, and something is telling you that it's something you don't want to hear.

       “It's my turn.”  Simon breaks the silence, forgetting about keeping you for his eyes only; his hands parting your thighs again and he delved right in. It didn't take long for you to notice his jealousy. From the way he's squinting at you, to the way his teeth are grazing against the hickeys that the captain has left a few minutes ago. Possessive with the way he kisses your inner thighs, then slowly moving to your dripping pussy and he hums. This man hums when he tastes you, his eyes flutter and his grip tightens around you. This mean man, the one you thought didn't care about you, groans like he's eating a Michelin star meal - and for him even that could never compare to your sweetness. Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley is eating you out as if he's enjoying it, as if he's enjoying you. Shocking, for a man that easily replaced you. 

Although what’s more shocking was the look in his eyes. Yes, possessive and upset, but there’s a hint of something that he’s trying to hide. The captain knows him too well, so well that he let out a chuckle after noticing it; remorse, regret. Feelings the big man would never admit to have, and in reality, he couldn’t even remember the last time he felt his cold heart clench in guilt. “What’s that, lieutenant? You seem…distracted.” The older man comments, wanting to draw the attention to him again. And this is exactly what he got. Whisky golds aimed at him, shot daggers right at him. Simon pulled away, not once looking at you as he hissed, anger too obvious in his tone. “I’m tired of you. Why are you here anyway? Actually don’t answer that.” and his glare is at you again, though, after so long with him you know he’s not actually mad at you, his voice isn’t as condescending as usual. “Come on sweetheart, we’ve told you to make a choice, don’t keep us waiting any longer. If it’s him that you want, just say it, I’ll leave you alone.”

[btskitten7]

Silent Grace Shorts: "Pillow-Talk"

Ship: Min Yoongi x Fem reader

au/genre: Mafia!au

rating: M

wc: 1.6k

Chapter warnings: Oral (f. receiving.), fingering, LOTS of sex talk, and neediness. MULTIPLE orgasms. Hidden breeding kink

summary: Oh we're getting nasty. This is the smuttiest we've gotten so far. Yoongi only has your pleasure on his mind.

tagss: @shadowyjellyfishfest @baechugff @maunosorioh @shelylamc @princess-sunshyn @scuzmunkie @wanceu @coldcoffee2121 @maunosorioh @massivelyfullenthusiast @bangtan-famiglia-net

After a long day of spending time with Yoongi’s mother, you were ready for a rest. 

You loved spending time with her but she is the literal definition of  ‘shop till you drop.’ 

You walked through the door of your bedroom where Yoongi was just setting down his jacket on the chair to the side. “You’re just getting home too?” You asked, setting the bags close to the closet for you to put away later. 

He turned to you with a warm smile and nodded. 

“Yeah, I had to listen to my father yap his life away. He just has so much to say nowadays.” Yoongi chuckled, loosening his tie before walking over to you and wrapping his arms around you. You lifted your arms around his neck with a sweet smile. 

“Well, maybe he just wants to teach you a few more things before you take over, baby.” You replied, causing him to playfully roll his eyes. 

“Trust me Blossom, there’s nothing else he could tell me.” 

You chuckled before lifting up and kissing his lips. Yoongi hummed before pulling you closer and deepening the kiss. His hand found the apple of your bottom and squeezed it tight as he pecked your lips over and over. 

“Take a shower with me, Blossom.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~

The warm water hit your body as you closed your eyes and let the steam relax you. Yoongi stood behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. He left sweet kisses along your shoulders and neck. A soft hum left your lips as his hands traveled up and down your navel, slowly as he continued to nip at your neck. 

He turned to grab the shampoo, squeezing a bit into his hands before running his fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp. 

“Where did you and my mom end up?” he asked as he washed your hair. 

“We went to a lot of different places. She showed me the market she used to take you and your brother when you were younger. We ate at a few stalls there.” you replied “It was all very good.” 

Yoongi smiled, “I used to hate going to that place. My mom would make us carry everything she bought before we brought security around. My youngest brother never had to carry anything because he would drop it so, it was always Jihoon and I. It was only worth it if we got food after.” He chuckled. 

“You’ll have to carry my stuff too when we go” You teased. “As long as I get some food, I’ll carry you if I have to” Yoongi snorted making you laugh. 

He continued to wash your hair when you turned face him to rinse the soap from your hair. 

Yoongi studied your body. He looked over every crevasse. He admired you. You were the most beautiful thing in his entire life. He loved how you accepted him, for him. You’ve been incredibly understanding, and he couldn’t ask for more. You wiped the water from your eyes before turning back around.  

Yoongi wrapped his arms around your waist and pushed his hips into your ass and you could feel the heat off him, despite the water being hotter. "You're so beautiful, Blossom." His breath was hot against your ear as he spoke softly to you. A soft moan leaves your lips feeling his length behind you. 

"You're so beautiful too, Yoongi." You turned around and looked into his eyes. He was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. He was taken aback a bit.

No one has ever told him something like that nor was he looking for it. He was used to being called handsome, of course, but beautiful? He wasn’t used to that.  

Beautiful made him feel special and loved. 

"You're beautiful too, Yoongi." You said again, looking up at him. He smiled and leaned in to kiss you. The water dripped off your bodies as he held onto the back of your neck while his tongue played with yours.

You broke the kiss and looked into his eyes. "I love you, Yoongi." He smiled again as he pushed your hair out of your face before looking down at you with a serious look.

“I love you too, Blossom. More than life itself” He whispered, taking your lips once again. You moaned into his mouth as he nibbled on your bottom lip. He pulled away and looked at you, "I want to make love to you." You whispered to him, looking up at him. “I want you”

He didn’t hesitate. He pushed you against the wall and pulled your legs around his waist. His cock was throbbing as he felt it brush up against your wet core, hardening more with every second that passed by.

"I need you." He whispered as he looked into your eyes. You nodded and smiled at him before kissing his neck softly while grinding against his member with your cunt, moaning softly as his lips attached directly to your breast.

You were driving him up the wall. Feeling your cunt on his member drove him mad. You moaned as he sucked on your nipple. He groaned and lifted his head to look at you before holding you up with one hand while grabbing his member, guiding it across your clit.

You gasped as he pushed into you. He groaned and bit his lip, holding onto your waist tightly while slowly pushing in and out of you.

You moaned and held onto his shoulders as he continued to fuck you. "You feel so good, baby." He whispered into your ear. You whimpered out as he began to pound into you harder and faster.  “You’re doing so well for me Blossom. You’re taking me so well.”

He groaned out as he continued to fuck you. You moan and kiss his neck, "I love how good you feel inside of me." His eyes rolled back into the sockets when you said that. "Fuck!" He groaned out as he began to pound into you faster. You moaned and whimpered, holding onto his shoulders tightly while your pussy clenched around him tighter with every thrust of his cock inside of you. 

Yoongi was close but he wasn’t done. No. 

This was going to last all night. 

He groaned out as he pushed into you harder and faster. You gasped for air, feeling his cock throb inside of your pussy while the water continued to hit both of your bodies. "Fuck! I'm gonna cum, I-I’m going to cum” you whine scratching his back, only turning him on more. “Cum all you want...I’m not done with you” he smirked.

He continued to fuck you but his pace grew slower and deeper, his cock throbbing inside of you. That drove you over the edge "Fuck! I'm cumming!" You cried out as your pussy clenched around him tightly, feeling the waves of pleasure rush through your body. Yoongi’s pace slowed as he fucked his cum back into you. Not letting a single drop slip out. “More?” He looked into your eyes, full of desire. 

“Y-yes. Please..”

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

He laid you down on the bed and looked at you. "I'm going to fuck you so good, baby." He whispered as he crawled up your body and kissed your lips softly.

He kissed your neck, down to the top of your breasts. You moaned as he continued kissing his way down towards your pussy and back up again. “P-please don’t tease me Yoongi.” You whined. 

Yoongi smirked with a devious grin as he looked up at you, kissing your core gently before licking it up with the tip of his tongue. Goosebumps coated your skin as he continued to eat you out. 

He licked you up with the tip of his tongue, making your hips buck against him. “Fuck…Yoongi” You cried out, gripping his hair tightly. He looked into your eyes as he continued to swirl his tongue inside of you. Yoongi began to suck on your clit gently while pushing two fingers inside of you slowly but firmly. 

Your pleasure was the only thing on Yoongi’s mind. 

Not the fact that you may be too loud.

Not the fact that all his employees can hear you.

Not the fact that he had an early flight he needed to catch. 

You were the only thing he was worried about. 

He groans and pulls away from your core, watching you make a mess of the bed and his fingers. That didn’t stop him. He continued to pump his fingers in and out of you until he felt you clench around his fingers only making you gasp from the sudden emptiness. 

Before you could even speak he crashed his lips into yours, biting your bottom lip and pulling you on top of him. You straddled his hips and began to grind on his member while you kissed his neck, leaving all types of marks on his pale skin. 

Yoongi didn’t contain his moans even if he wanted to. You push him back with a smile on your face. “My turn” You smirked pushing yourself directly on top of his member, letting a moan leave your lips. 

Yoongi moaned as he held on to your hips while you grinded against him, feeling him stretching your already sensitive core even more, you weren’t going to last long. He lifted his body and held you close to him, moving your hips against him while his moans flew out his mouth. 

“That’s it, pretty girl. That’s it. You’re doing so good for me, Blossom. T-take all of me.” He groaned into your ear. “Cum with me” 

You were at your wit's end. Moans were flying from both of your mouths as you held on to one another. A few moments more and you came first with Yoongi cumming shortly after. 

“I love you, Blossom” Yoongi said panting before laying back trying to catch his breath. You were exhausted but you felt great. You laid on his chest holding him close, half asleep already. 

“I love you too, Yoon.” You said softly before falling asleep. 

Yoongi chuckled softly before kissing your head and falling asleep with you in his arms. 

[lemonlover1110]

𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Warnings: Angst, Just Toji being an ass and regretting it, Satisfactory ending if you're against Toji

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Toji often remembers the night he left you. You were six months pregnant with your daughter, and he decided that he wasn’t in love with you anymore. He was in love with someone else, so he left you. Guilt eats him alive ever since.

Three years later, every time he sees his daughter, he wants to cry. Mainly because he wasn’t in love with someone else. He just mistook the love for attention as actual love. You just started to focus so much on your pregnancy that you didn’t pay as much attention to him. She gave him that.

Now, every second of every day, he regrets it. You’re so stunning. So kind. So attentive. An amazing mother. Every time he sees you, he falls more in love. And he’s thinking of winning you back, yet he doesn’t have the courage to. He knows better. 

You’re civil with him, but that’s because of your daughter. He knows you hate him. Because of him you ended up in the hospital, nearly losing the baby you’ve always dreamt of having. He showed up to your labor with his new girlfriend, and the first few times refused to visit unless she was allowed to come with. He’s caused you so much pain.

“Daddy!” He hears, and he watches his three-year-old daughter run to him. He stands up from his chair and crouches down to open his arms and receive his daughter with a warm hug. When she’s in his arms, he kisses the temple of her forehead. 

“My princess, how are you?” He asks, picking her up from the ground. He focuses on her, before he notices you. You wear a cute flowy dress that shows your cleavage a bit, some wedges, and a bit of makeup. It makes him fall in love all over again. 

You give him a weak, insincere smile before you take a seat. You usually meet up at this café to drop off your daughter, solely because there’s a playground which your daughter loves. And you two sit together, awkwardly, watching as she enjoys her play time. She never gets bored of it.

Toji helps her take off her shoes before she goes to play. When Toji takes a seat across from you, he thinks of what to say. You don’t bother to look at him, watching your daughter. 

“How’s life treating you?” He speaks up, which makes you look back at him. You shrug. He feels as his heart skips a beat, thinking about bringing up the idea of rekindling your relationship. He taps his pointer finger on the table before he clears his throat,

“Have you ever thought of… Getting back together?” He questions, making you raise an eyebrow. “For our daughter… I’m asking for our daughter.”

“Not really.” You respond. “You left while I was pregnant, so why would you care now? You’re unreliable.”

“I’ve changed, y’know…” He brings up. Maybe he wasn’t the best father with Megumi, but he sure is trying with his daughter. He’s changed so much ever since she was born.

“That’s nice to know, Toji.” You answer. You don’t care to entertain the subject, focusing back on your daughter. “I’m seeing someone too.”

“What–” Toji replies. He finds his cheeks turning pink due to embarrassment. “I hope all goes well.”

“He treats me better than you ever did.”

[musicalmystery]

Alastor x gn! Morningstar! reader

Warning:angst,greif, anger, character death

Everything stopped. You’re beloved, the love of your life died a second time as he faded into the shadows because of Adam. Rage filled inside you, rage like nothing you have ever felt before. Alastor was always your safe place, your sanctuary. The one person who you could unapologetically be yourself around without receiving any judgement or criticism. He loved you unconditionally and he was gone in the blink of an eye. You always admired his confidence but it led to his demise thinking that him and his own weapon would be enough to defeat the angels.

Why didn’t he just use an angelic weapon? It didn’t matter now, what’s done is done and there’s no turning back. You can still make Adam suffer just as much as he made you. Blinded by rage, you grabbed an angelic sword with one thought on your mind. Alastor will have his peace. You charged at Adam taking him by surprise, before he had time to react you stabbed his stomach. You twisted the sword in his gut making it as painful as possible.

You pulled out the sword making Adam fall, letting his wounds get infected. You didn’t care, you towered over him and punched him in the face letting all your pain and grief making sure that he felt the same as you did. You continued to punch him and punch him even after Adam was nothing but a corpse. You were so invested with causing Adam pain that you didn’t notice your friends and family surrounding you with concern on their faces until someone put a hand on your shoulder snapping you out of it. You looked to see who it was and saw your dad kneeling next to. “Dad…” you trailed off not finding the right words to say. Without saying a word Lucifer pulled you into a hug and the barrier broke.

You sobbed into his shoulder clutching his shirt like he was your life line. Your little sister, Charlie, joined the hug too. It has bee so long since you last let yourself cry, you took care of your father after your mom left taking Charlie with her because he was a mess. You had so much pressure placed upon you being the first born and being the future ruler of Hell. You never allowed yourself to show any real genuine emotion until you and Alastor became close. He’s gone now but you always have Charlie and Lucifer. Sometimes you just need a reminder of that.