#you expect me to believe hes that fragile??

[heart-of-decay]

imagine using the fact that my boyfriend's systemmate who I don't care about blocked me as like a "you should care about me" like I literally can't force myself to care about anything you're saying. I care about Him not anyone else.

[luveline]

also didn’t realise that amanda was their little baby but here’s an idea if ur up for it. amanda inherits like spencer’s smartness i guess and so when she starts spewing facts about the random-est stuff spencer’s overjoyed and then bombshells just staring at them with adoration in her eyes?? idk something really fluffy

“Shoes?” Amanda asks. 

“Yeah, babe.” 

“No thanks.” 

You hold Amanda’s socked feet in your hands. “You need shoes to keep your feet warm.” 

“I’ll have socks.” 

You look past her tiny face to her father for some assistance. Spencer scratches his neck, looking absolutely exhausted, though he’s dressed sharply. You’d spent a few minutes finger curling his hair this morning before it dried, and he’s brushed them out gently, giving him a windblown look. You pretend to take a photo of him. He rolls his eyes. 

“Amy,” he says lovingly, baby-voice in play as he leans over the back of the couch, “you know why you have to wear shoes?” 

“Why?” 

“Because growing up, your feet are very small, and very fragile. They need time to grow in proper structures, and they can’t do that if you don’t wear shoes when you’re walking a lot.” He gives her shoulder a rub. “Don’t you wanna match me and mommy?” 

“You wear shoes… different. Mom has heels,” she insists. 

“What if I wear flats?” you ask, eager to leave the house before afternoon. 

She shakes her head, crossing her arms over her chest with a Spencer style pout. 

Spencer sits down next to her with a sigh. You’re both aware of how smart she is for her age, and while it can be interesting, it’s also made some stuff so, so hard. Like explaining shoes. “I’m not want to wear them. It’s good for my skin to breathe.” All her r’s sound soft, like w’s.

You rub your eyes. Spencer sucks in an excited breath. “Yes! Skin can’t really breathe, but it’s good to have it uncovered sometimes to help your circulation and your pores.” 

“‘Xactly,” Amy says. 

“And, you know, shoes that don’t fit right force your feet into narrow positions, which can cause a whole bunch of problems.” 

“No shoes,” Amy says. 

“But…” Spencer backtracks, thumbing under her eyelashes gently. “If you don’t wear your shoes, we can’t go out to the store for groceries and we can’t go to the bakery on the way home. Which means you won’t get your sugar donuts, mommy won’t get her slice of cake, and that’s gonna make me so sad.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I love when your mom is happy. It makes me happy when she’s happy. She doesn’t look very happy now, does she?” 

In all honesty, you’re much too pretty to be sitting on the floor, tights to the carpeting and your cute black dress bunching up your thighs. You refuse to close yourself into the ‘mom’ box some may expect of you, dressing as you had before you became a mom, but you’ve allowed Amanda the opportunity to choose your necklace; a gold pendant ring with green and pink sapphires. It’s gorgeous, colourful, and doesn’t even slightly go with your outfit. Spencer reaches for it now, tugging it straight carefully against your neck. 

You frown deeply, pulling your widest, softest doe eyes. “Please, lovely girl, put your shoes on. Or I’m gonna have to be strict, and I hate being strict.” 

“Don’t fw-own, mommy,” she says, listing into Spencer’s side, “you’ll get wrinkles. Worse wrinkles, ‘cos your muscles remember.” 

And again, all her r’s are w’s, her pronunciation lispy and sweet despite her amazing expertise. Spencer laughs and takes her face into two hands, kissing “Wow, smarty pants,” into her crown. “You’re so smart! I can’t believe it!” 

You feel your annoyance softening. Fine, she’s a smarty pants, and you secretly love it so so much. You’ll just have to carry her to the car. Or her genius dad can carry her. Actually, that could be great, Spencer’s never looked so handsome as he does carrying around your little baby, especially now he’s started working out every now and then. 

“Better role your sleeves up, Spence,” you say, standing up off of your knees. “I’m keeping my heels on. Daddy’s gonna carry you, and you’re gonna get wonky feet.” 

“That’s fine,” Spencer says to her in a whisper, “I’ll carry you forever if you want me to, even if you do get all wonky, bubby.”  

Amy preens as she wraps her arms around him and he picks her up. He takes her shoes from your hand without her seeing. 

“Isn’t she amazing?” he mouths, and he means it, his eyes wide with it. 

“She’s gonna protest socks, next, Spencer Reid, and then what are you gonna do?” you ask. You aren’t half as concerned as you’re pretending to be. Amy’s a baby. She’ll learn how important shoes are soon enough. 

“I’m gonna hold her in my coat, like this,” he says, pulling his coat over her legs. 

“Like that,” you say to yourself, grinning. “Okay, you two do what you want. Can we go now? We really need to get some groceries.” 

[sweet-as-an-angel]

König x Petite Reader Headcanons

Warnings: Non-Explicit Implications of Sexual Content, Petite Reader, Size Kink, Jealous König, Insecure König, Implied 141 x Reader, Petnames, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’.

A/N: Forgot that I'd already written this once before, so here we are with more König x Petite Reader Headcanons ! Just see this as some extra content for our beloved König and his smol s/o <3

When it comes to you, this man is F E R A L

Genuinely cannot believe how perfect you are.

Constantly jokes about how he could fit you in the palm of his hand.

And once, to shut him up, you proved him right by sitting on his open hand when he wasn’t expecting it and gave him a smug look.

“There,” you said, folding your arms over your chest. “You can fit me in your palm.”

König tried not to think of how close he was to your special parts, how warm you felt on him.

He had to disappear to the bathroom for a few minutes afterwards, and when he returned, his face was flushed and he could barely look you in the eye.

He’s never been the same after that. Any trace of a size kink he had before has been amplified to such an extent that he’s taken to hiding your clothes so you’ll have to wear his.

And he just can’t keep his hands off you whenever you do.

“My my, Engel,” he says, one hand sliding around your waist and pulling you closer to him, the other drawing the hem of his shirt further and further up your thighs.

“What could you be hiding under here ?”

Calls you his Mini Maus.

“Because you’re just so tiny and precious !” he gushes.

And since you’re so small compared to him, he treats you as if you’re fragile, like an endangered species of flower.

Concerning intimacy at the beginning of your relationship, König was concerned that he was too big for you.

But, when you put his mind at ease (and challenge him) – “I bet I can take you, Köni~” – you’re in for it.

König’s fighting spirit won’t let you off easy.

When he’s feeling more dominant, he bunches your wrists into one of his hands while he sits on top of you, his other hand slipping beneath your (his) shirt and slithering round the band of your underwear.

“Pretty little thing,” he says, a dangerous smile at his lips. “All weak and defenseless.” He leans down, his eyes dark and wild. “Just for me.”

If you try to struggle (consensually), he’ll smack you through your underwear. And not gently, either.

“Don’t test me, Mini,” he says, his grip about your wrists tightening. “You don’t know what I’m like when I’m angry.”

He loooooves fitting his hands around your waist.

Especially when he finds that his hands wrap around your middle and his fingers touch.

Size kink: upgraded.

He gets lowkey jealous if you ask someone else to reach something for you.

Will sulk about it.

“I just don’t see why you had to ask Ghost to get it for you,” he’ll say, frowning as he lies in bed.

You sigh, putting your book down.

“König, you weren’t even here !” you say. “And I was starving !”

König knows he’s being unreasonable, but he can’t help but feel like he can be easily replaced.

Especially when he knows the rest of the 141 would gladly drop everything to be with you.

He’s not stupid, he’s seen the way they look at you.

A few minutes alone together and a kind word – “You’re so perfect, Köni~ My big, big boy,” – will set him straight.

Loves showing you off to his friends. His acquaintances aren’t safe, either.

He’ll stand you before him and show you off to his associates like: ”Look, this is my partner ! Aren’t they beautiful ?!”

So help him god if anyone tries to show you up or disagree.

You’ll never see them again.

And neither will anyone else.

König loves you more than life itself, and regardless of his insecurities or your unwavering ability to have anyone you could ever want, he’s glad you chose him <3

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

[buccini555]

𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬: 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲

★ You found out you were pregnant, but were afraid to tell them, but they ended up finding out

★ H e a d c a n o n s !

★ 𝑭𝒕. Manjiro Sano, Sanzu Haruchiyo, Kakucho Hitto, Rindou Haitani, Ran Haitani, Kokonoi Hajime and Takeomi Akashi

tw: unplanned pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms, bad words, abandonment, a little angst but a lot of fluff

𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐫𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐨

Manjiro began to notice the change in your behavior, having the impression that you were hiding something, he knew, at that point he was almost sure that you were expecting his baby.

"Don't lie to me..." He held you, making you completely vulnerable, tears came down his face, Manjiro was really scaring you.

"M-manjiro, stop, please..." You just closed your eyes, expecting the worst and fearing for your son's life, but, unexpectedly, Manjiro let you go, giving you a hug full of affection, you remained silent, watching him place his hand on your belly.

"A-are you... pregnant?" Your heart beat faster, a feeling of despair took over you, but it was too late. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry but, it's true, I-I'm expecting your baby." Silence took over the room, being broken by Manjiro's inconsolable crying.

"Thanks." He said through tears. "Please take our baby away from me, I don't want to hurt you..." That was the last thing you heard from Manjiro before he told you to leave.

𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐳𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐲𝐨

You tried to hide all the symptoms so that Haruchiyo wouldn't notice, until the day you were having dinner together and you felt sick, as soon as you got up and went to the bathroom because of nausea, at that moment he already knew that you were pregnant.

"Love? are you ok?" He walked into the bathroom, seeing you sitting on the floor crying.

"Be honest with me... You're pregnant, aren't you?" Haruchiyo said as he helped you get up, your crying only intensified at that moment, confirming Sanzu's question, he remained silent, looking at you and stroking your face, it was definitely not the reaction you expected from him.

"Were you scared to tell me? I-I'm so sorry." Sanzu hugged you, then he walked away and at that moment you expected the worst possible reaction.

"I'm really angry that you're making your mother sick, we have to take care of her together, do you hear your father?" He said hugging and placing a small kiss on your belly, giving a smile of relief from you, later getting up and giving you a long kiss.

𝐊𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐨 𝐇𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐨

Kakucho was always very attentive to you, for that reason, it didn't take long for him to suspect that you were pregnant, his doubts were only confirmed the day you ended up in the hospital because of a faint.

As soon as he found out about your hospitalization, he went to visit you, but as soon as he arrived in the room you were in, he saw you doing an ultrasound and listening to your baby's heart, as soon as you noticed his presence, your heart accelerated, Kakucho was standing at that door crying with a smile on his face, he went into denial for a moment, his emotion upon hearing your baby was so great that he couldn't even contain himself.

"Y-you're really pregnant, our baby is so small, so fragile... We're going to have a baby, I can't believe it!" He approached you, holding your hand and telling you through tears, he was shaking and couldn't even look away from the image of the baby.

"That was the best gift you could have given me, thank you darling! Now you're no longer the only love of my life." He kissed your hand, his reaction left you completely in love, you were sure at that moment that despite everything, you chose the right father for your baby.

𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐢

Rindou and you were in the room listening to some songs together when you started to feel sick, as much as you were trying to hide your pregnancy, Rindou had already noticed at that moment.

"Shit, aren't you going to tell me you got pregnant?" He said in a serious tone, looking directly at you, you looked at him scared, but you would have to tell the truth. "I'm sorry Rin..." You just confirmed his question, Rindou was completely shaken by the news and you could only hope for the worst.

"I'm not going to be a good father..." He said in a low tone, shaking his head in denial and trying to hide how disappointed he was. "I'm sure you'll be a great father, Rin." Everything suddenly became silent, almost as if time had stopped, Rindou hugged you, then placed his hand on your belly and caressed you with a smile on his face.

"I'll do my best for you, you and this little one boy... Or little one girl! Ran will love knowing he's going to be an uncle."

𝐑𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐢

Ran You definitely won't find out about your pregnancy that easily, but as soon as he saw you feeling sick in front of him, something in his intuition made him realize your pregnancy.

Holding your hair as you finished throwing up, he couldn't help but ask you.

"You are pregnant?" He asked the question with a worried expression, seeing you feeling sick and thinking about the fact that you were carrying that weight alone made him completely sensitive, fearing for Ran's reaction, you just nodded your head.

"You should have told me earlier!" He shouted at you, making you even more scared.

"Forgive me... I didn't mean to yell at you." Ran hugged you, being careful in his embrace, he was already getting used to the presence of your baby, knowing that he would have to change his behavior for you.

"...My angel, my girlfriend and future wife, you made me a complete man!" He said, still hugging you, Ran proposed to you at that same moment and promised himself that regardless of anything, he would be the best father your baby could have. "Rindou is going to spoil this child so much..." Ran said with a smile on his face.

𝐊𝐨𝐤𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐢 𝐇𝐚𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐞

Kokonoi had already made it very clear previously that he did not intend to have children, hiding the pregnancy from him would definitely not be a good idea as it didn't take him long to realize it.

"Do you have something to tell me?" He would ask you, already knowing the answer, Kokonoi didn't want to believe that that had happened.

"N-no." You said, trying to deny the obvious, but he interrupted you.

"You are pregnant." Koko stated, taking a long sigh and shaking his head in denial, you expected the worst possible reaction, but the tallest just burst into tears, soon going to hug you.

"I would never, ever deny our baby, I love you and I will love this baby, in fact, I already love him... or she? I don't know!" He said, or at least tried to say in the midst of so much emotion, he hugged you tightly, you just felt how much he was shaking, Koko was scared and just feared he wouldn't be a good father to your son. "I will take care of you, I will protect you! You are my most precious one, you and our baby."

𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐨𝐦𝐢 𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢

Takeomi already knew about your pregnancy, he paid close attention to your behavior and it didn't take long to notice the changes.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Where were you thinking when you chose to hide your pregnancy from me?" Takeomi said placing you against the wall and holding your face aggressively, at that moment you could only cry, fearing for your baby's life.

"You were just another slut, you should have thought about that before showing up pregnant." He said, releasing you, despite all that violence, Takeomi was honestly moved by the fact that you were expecting his baby.

"... I'm so sorry." Takeomi looked at you, helping you sit down and sitting in front of you.

"I won't be able to move on with my life knowing that I left a child behind, so I will take care of you and these children, but know that I'm not happy at all with this mistake I made." He got up and left.

[sincerelyyycece]

i'm letting go.

Y/N finally had enough of being James’s backburner

note: modern au, this is a part 2 of my “hey, are u still there? …good.” fic, inspired by niki’s song again but this time it’s “oceans and engines.”

tags: @dearmy-diary @moonteaxw @xcinnamonmalfoyx @box-of-kinderjoy @hisparentsgallerryy @alittlebirdswhisper @chi-ara (i can't seem to tag the last two accounts.)

sincerelyyycece © ─ all rights reserved. please do not repost/translate/copy any of my work.

A symphony of heartbroken tears and quiet, mournful sniffles echoed throughout the room, rebounding off the cold, stark walls and filling the silence with their melancholy. "Here we go again," she mused to herself, a bitter chuckle escaping her lips as the painful reality of her situation hit her once more. Her gaze, heavy with unshed tears and the burden of heartbreak, fixed on the seemingly innocent photo of James and Lily, both ignorant of the emotional turmoil their image was causing.

As she studied their smiling faces, her heart, already fragile and wounded, sank even deeper into the abyss of disappointment. The realization that she had been cruelly sidelined for Lily once more was a blow she had not anticipated, a betrayal that echoed in the silent room. She could almost hear the sound of her heart shattering, each piece a testament to her unrequited love for James.

A nauseating wave of regret and self-reproach washed over her, threatening to drown her in its relentless current. As she pondered her own naivety, she wondered how she had allowed herself to fall into this trap.

What had she expected?

Did she truly believe that this time, against all odds, he would choose her?

How foolish she felt, how incredibly naïve she was for ever believing him!

Her eyes narrowed at James's enthusiastic grin, a stark reminder of the shared moments and whispered promises. She remembered how he had once smiled at her in the exact same way, his eyes twinkling with mischief and unspoken promises. How easily she had fallen for that smile, and how bitterly she regretted it now.

With a deep, shaky breath, she forced herself to look away from the picture, her hand moving to wipe away the stray tears that had begun to fall. She knew what she needed to do, as much as it hurt her. She had to let go. She had to let go of James, of her love for him, and of the hope she'd been foolishly clinging to.

She gazed at her phone, James's number illuminating the screen. Another shaky breath escaped her lips as she summoned the courage to press the call button. The room filled with the familiar sound of ringing as she anxiously awaited his response, her hands trembling with nerves. Thoughts raced through her mind as she contemplated the words she intended to speak to him.

Suddenly, a voice broke the silence, uttering a soft "Hello?" Her breath caught at the sound, her heart skipping a beat. Faint music played in the background as he called out her name, "Y/N." She swiftly composed herself, resisting the urge to melt at the sound of his voice. "Are you there, Angel?" he inquired, his tone gentle. Her throat felt parched as she struggled to form words, her mind urging her to speak, yet her voice failed her.

Frustration washed over her as she sensed the distant sounds of music and chatter, indicating his movement to another location. "Y/N, did you accidentally call me?" he teased, chuckling lightly. "Hey," she finally managed to utter. "Hey Angel, what's going on?" he responded, his voice tender. She blinks rapidly, searching for a way to conclude the conversation.

But then a familiar female voice interrupted from the other end, urging James to return inside for another round. Though faint, she recognized it immediately. James's affectionate response indicated his reluctance to end their conversation. Internally, she sighed, realizing it was time to let go. No more clinging to hope, no more waiting on the sidelines for him. It was time to move on.

She'd had enough; her heart was tired of playing second fiddle to Lily. She was tired of being the one he turned to when he was bored or lonely—the one who was there to fill his empty moments. "James," she started hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper, "I think we should stop seeing each other." There was silence on the other end of the line, and for a moment, she thought he had hung up. "What?" he finally asked, sounding utterly shocked. "Why?”

"I'm tired, James," she admitted, her voice wavering as she spoke. "I'm tired of waiting for you, of being your second choice. I deserve better than this. I deserve to be someone's first choice, not their backup plan." There was a pause as she took a deep breath, gathering her courage before adding, "I'm letting go.”

"But, Y/N," James started desperately, but she cut him off. "No, James. It's over. Goodbye." With that, she ended the call, her heart aching as she did so. Up until that moment, she had hoped that things might change and that James might come to see her as more than just a friend, more than just a backup plan. But it was clear now that that was never going to happen. She had to let him go, for her own sake.

It was a painful decision, but she knew it was the right one. She deserved to be more than someone's second choice. She deserved to be loved and cherished as much as she loved and cherished others. And maybe one day she will find that person. But for now, it was time for her to focus on herself. It was time to heal and move forward. It was time to let go.

[spriteofmushrooms]

The first time Jin Guangyao held Jin Ling did not go as he'd expected. Jiang Wanyin, half-mad and barely functional, for some reason had been allowed into the nursery by Jin-furen. The moment whispers of this reached Jin Guangyao, of course he went to intercede; and it was fortunate he had. He could hear wailing halfway down the corridor.

"Why is he crying?" Jiang Wanyin demanded of the wetnurse as he held the baby incorrectly.

"This one is sure Sandu Shengshou knows better than her," she replied, eyes wide. Jin Guangyao made note of this, but he had few hopes of improvement. Jin servants knew to be meek.

"Obviously, I don't," Jiang Wanyin snapped, brows furrowed as he stared down at Jin Ling. Jin Guangyao purposefully brushed the silk of his robe, and like a dog Jiang Wanyin raised his head at the sound. "Lianfang-zun, what am I doing wrong?"

With a smile, Jin Guangyao moved between the shaking wetnurse and the mad dog of Lotus Pier. "Jiang-zongzhu, babies require support. Adjust your hand--yes, ah, slightly to the side--"

"Please just show me," Jiang Wanyin said, sounding tired as he held out Jin Ling.

The moment stilled. If his cultivation were better, Jin Guangyao believed he would hear the wetnurse's breath stop. She was, after all, expressly forbidden from allowing his whoreson hands to touch his nephew; yet neither of them could deny a sect leader.

A-Ling was warm and soft, sweetly heavy as all babies should be. His embroidered, daffodil-colored swaddling still burned with the heat of Jiang-zongzhu's high cultivation. Automatically, Jin Guangyao checked the boy for a fever; but of course no illness was allowed to fester in this child.

His chubby cheeks were red from crying, but as Jin Guangyao settled him in his arms, Jin Ling slowly quieted.

"As expected of Lianfang-zun," Jiang Wanyin said, slightly mocking.

When Jin Guangyao gauged his expression from under his eyelashes, however, Jiang Wanyin seemed wistful. He looked as young as he was.

(For a moment, Wen Ruohan's laughter filled his mind. "Xiao-zongzhu" had been a common target of derision, in the beginning. Wen Chao's account of the rape of Lotus Pier had been unusually thorough, and its contents were well-known amongst Wen Ruohan's inner circle. Jin Guangyao had not included the details in his reports to either his father or Lan Xichen. He doubted that this discretion would matter at all to Jiang Wanyin, who had tortured Wen Chao at the side of Wei Wuxian. What would he do to Jin Guangyao for being the last to know?)

Choosing to ignore the self-deprecation and memories both, Jin Guangyao instructed Zidian's master on the handling of human children. Jiang Wanyin made an attentive student, but he did not reach to take Jin Ling even once Jin Guangyao finished. "Would you like to hold him?"

Frowning with concentration, Jiang Wanyin nodded and sidled closer. He held his arms as Jin Guangyao had shown him, and then he checked Jin Guangyao's face, seeking approval.

"Good," Jin Guangyao said. Jiang Wanyin didn't smile, but some tension eased. Careful not to touch hands, Jin Guangyao returned Jin Ling to his jiujiu.

The wetnurse's gentle "oh" described the scene well.

Against the black and violet, Jin Ling looked like a ray of sunshine piercing clouds. Jiang Wanyin's face cleared until he looked as delicately beautiful as gossip painted him to be; while Jin Guangyao generally considered him fragile, it was more in the sense of an arrow point designed to break once it pierced flesh. Now, though, he could understand why Jiang Wanyin was so often painted as a mourning lover spurned by the Yiling Laozu.

Then Jin Ling fell asleep, and Jiang Wanyin's eyes watered. He slowly settled onto the couch, careful not to jostle their nephew.

"How long can I stay?"

Ideally, half an incense stick. Jin Guangyao turned to the wetnurse. "Could you please ask Jin-furen to advise us?"

She bowed her head and left.

After a few moments, Jiang Wanyin said, "She needs guards in the room with her. If she can't even tell me I've fucked up, how will she fare against assassins?"

"Gold Scale Tower has many guards," Jin Guangyao began, but Jiang Wanyin snorted.

"Where do you think we are? If some pompous Jin cousin demands Jin Ling, would she say no? Much less someone with weapons drawn."

"As a servant--"

"Jiang servants can and would."

Jin Guangyao smiled. "Is it not true that Jiang servants are entirely comprised of disciples, disciple candidates, and those who failed to cultivate but chose to stay?"

"It's a sect," Jiang Wanyin answered. "Typically, they are operated like sects, yes."

"Gold Scale Tower must run in accordance with its scale," Jin Guangyao said. "The servants are often merely servants."

Jiang Wanyin, whose face displayed his opinion of that, said nothing for a moment, allowing Jin Guangyao to notice his headache. "She needs guards for herself, not just outside of the room," he repeated.

"Perhaps this is something you can address with Jin-furen?"

Looking up from Jin Ling, Jiang Wanyin studied him. "Alright. Is there anything else you want me to say?"

Jin Guangyao's fingers twitched with the desire to straighten his gold robes. "Between Jin-furen and Jiang-zongzhu, I am sure that all concerns have been considered."

"Please, you notice everything and didn't accept one single item I suggested for a-jie's wedding," Jiang Wanyin said. "Do you expect me to believe you don't have opinions on Jin Ling?"

Jin Guangyao inclined his head, and then he tentatively offered an observation and a suggestion. When Jiang Wanyin merely looked thoughtful, Jin Guangyao continued; while Jiang Wanyin occasionally asked clarifying questions, he never reacted emotionally.

It was... strange, to be in a room with this man, discussing the care of a child he wasn't allowed to do anything for. He wondered what he must look like to Jiang Wanyin to be accepted so easily as an expert on Jin Ling, on anything. Unsettling.

Yet unlike Nie Mingjue, being seen didn't seem dangerous; unlike Wen Ruohan, being noticed didn't accompany invitations to violence.

No, Jiang Wanyin observed him, and his conclusion was that Jin Guangyao could teach him how to hold his one treasure.

For the first time, it seemed like sharing a nephew with this man might be interesting, not simply alarming. Jin Guangyao looked forward to observing him further.

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹｡ do you believe in love? | gojo satoru

wc: 808

summary: you’re both 23 when you first ask gojo about love.

contains: written with f!reader in mind but no pronouns are mentioned, a bit of sad, there is a swear, kind of a will-they-won’t-they, alludes to some of gojo’s possible internal struggles, might feel a bit ooc? but i like to think gojo does have serious conversations once in a while 

a/n: the kind of gojo i envision in this is inspired by all the teen dad/dad gojo fics that i’ve ever read, most notably 'teen dad gojo' by @seravphs and 'keeping up with the fushiguros' by @/augustinewrites. this isn’t an addition to any of their works, but the way they write and characterise gojo has shaped the way i understand him (and ultimately how i write him) in these little blurbs of mine :’) please do check their works out if you have the time, it’s some of my favourites!! :’)

collection masterlist: conversations on love you are here -> 02. tell me about love (show me how)

“Do you believe in love?” 

You don’t think he hears you at first, but that’s impossible; the night is quiet, with only you and Gojo sitting by the steps of the dormitory entrance. His dangly long legs brush against yours, lingering barely. 

Since Suguru’s defection, Gojo’s gotten a lot more contemplative. He hides it a lot, especially with Megumi and Tsumiki around, but there are times that you catch him spacing out. There’s a far away look on his face and his demeanor completely shifts, rambunctiousness fading into something more restrained, if only in that moment. 

Other times, you’re let into that space with him, like now. 

“I do.” he replies, uncharacteristically succinct. He doesn’t even look at you when he says it. 

You weren’t expecting it, to be honest. With everything that’s happened to him so far, you were ready for a flat out cynical ‘no’. But—

“But,” he continues, “not for me.” 

There’s the ‘but’. 

He turns to look at you, eyes covered by the bandages he’s been opting for more recently. You’ve known Gojo since you were both 15, and somehow, you’ve gotten good at guessing what he’s always hiding. 

“You wanna tell me why?” you nudge. You figure this is good for him—or at least you hope it is. 

Getting Gojo to actually sit and have a real conversation with you has been increasingly difficult since Suguru disappeared. Taking in the Fushiguros, then the higher ups assigning him missions back-to-back-to-back—it’s been a lot. And you worry about him, if he’s even been able to sit down and process everything, if he’s even given himself the chance to feel for once. 

“Not really,” he shrugs, turning back to the garden in front of you. There isn’t much to discuss, it either fits in his life or doesn’t. When he’s meant for a purpose much larger than himself, small wants remain at just that: small, negligible. 

You huff, unable to hide your disappointment, “Okay.” 

But, you respect him and what he wants (or does not want) to say. 

As you stare out with him, Gojo eyes you from the side, the pout on your lips a teenage souvenir you still carry now at 23. He breaks into a small smile, the corners of his lips curving up slightly, fondly. 

“It’s just not meant for me, that’s all.” 

He doesn’t look at you when he says that, too. 

You slowly avert your gaze from the grass in front of you, focusing on him instead. His smile is still there, although it feels resigned, like he’s accepted this long ago. 

Gojo has never been meant to handle something so delicate and fragile—his divinity keeps him untouchable from such pure things. 

Still, you want to tell him that that’s not true. That you think love is meant for everyone, even in this fucked up, cursed world—especially in this fucked up, cursed world. 

You want to tell him that love is meant for him too. 

“Do you wish it were?”

He hums, arms stretching back as he leans on his wrists. His head dips back, looking at the sky. There’s a pause, then an exhale before he continues, “There’s no point thinking about it, I guess.” 

A non-answer. You take what you can get; it’s hard enough getting Gojo to be honest with you, much less talk about things like this. The night continues this way: you exchange anecdotes about your latest missions, then talk about Megumi’s most recent involvement in a school incident. Serious questions pop up here and there but you don’t push, and Gojo is willing to share what he can. 

.

.

.

You are 23 when you first ask Gojo if he believes in love, and he does, but what he doesn’t tell you is this: that he only believes it because he sees it in you—through the things you do, for Megumi and Tsumiki. For him too. 

There’s always been this unspoken thing between the two of you. He doesn’t know what to call it—never has, but it’s comfortable and safe, so he tries to keep it that way. 

Suguru has left an unpatchable hole inside of him that only you can seem to touch, softening the jaggedy edges so it doesn’t cut as deep. When he first showed up with Megumi and Tsumiki that one Friday night, you had all the questions in the world; he could see it, feel it in the furrow of your brows and the tapping of your foot. But instead, you asked this: “Have you guys eaten dinner yet?”

Gojo cannot afford love, not yet. Not when there’s still so much at risk, still so much to do. The cons significantly outweigh the pros on both ends, so this will have to do for now—this unspoken thing, that he hopes one day, he can finally call for what it really is.

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[thestarkinternship]

Gorgeous

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader: One Shot (Smut)

Summary: You have a boyfriend, and Bucky knows this. But there's nothing that the two of you hate more than what you can't have.

Word Count: 2.8k (no mention of Y/N)

Warnings: profanity, drinking, unprotected sex, fingering, hair pulling, cheating, praise, slight exhibitionism (communal area of the compound), 18+, minors DNI!

A/N: Okay I'm slowly finding my footing in writing stuff like this, but I'm really happy with how this turned out. Inspired by the song Gorgeous by Taylor Swift - expect a lot more one shots inspired by songs, I have a whole list!

-

"I can't believe your boyfriend let you come here alone tonight."

You turned your head to see Bucky Barnes, with his signature smirk plastered on his face. Great. So much for a chilled night in of drinks with your teammates. Now you'd be spending the whole evening staring at his stupidly smug face. A face that was impossibly good looking. His jawline alone looked like it could've been carved from stone, and his full lips that were only good for sarcastic comments.

Stop it. You have a boyfriend. You scolded yourself.

Instead, you tried to remind yourself of the negatives (not that there were many). Beneath the obvious attraction, you found his arrogant yet charming personality infuriating. And that was before you guys added alcohol into the mix.

Leaning back against the counter to your side, his arm brushed up against yours. The supple leather of his jacket sparked tension and goosebumps as it glided across the exposed skin of your bare arm.

You rolled your eyes at him, shifting to put a little much needed distance between the pair of you for good measure. You wanted to ignore him. To not bite at his obvious flirtatious taunts. But you couldn't resist. "What? You mean I can't hang out with friends without my boyfriend's approval? He doesn't own me, you know. I can do whatever I damn well please."

Bucky's smile twisted into a crooked grin as he raised his mismatched hands in defence. "Alright, alright. You're your own woman and all that. So, if he's not here tonight breathing down your neck, where is he?"

"He's at a club downtown." You told him, reaching for a bottle of liquor. If you were going to have this conversation about your missing boyfriend with the most infuriating member of the team, you definitely needed another drink.

"Oh yeah? And what's so important that he's gotta tear himself away from you?" Bucky asked, cocking his head to one side.

"God knows what." You muttered under your breath. The truth was, your relationship had been rocky for a while. You couldn't seem to agree on anything lately. And spending time together? You'd forgotten what that felt like. More and more, he had been staying out late, every feeble excuse causing deeper cracks in your fragile love life.

But you didn't need to say any of this to his face. It was like Bucky could read your mind. Now, he looked you up and down. "Well, he's really missing out."

Bucky's flirting, whilst harmless most of the time, was really starting to get to you tonight. And he looked so gorgeous doing it that it made you mad.

"Why are you with him anyway? Isn't he a little old for you?" He teased, sipping his drink. The ice cubes bobbed in his whiskey, clinking against the crystal glass.

"He's not that much older than me," you pointed out, "God forbid I dare to like an older man."

"Maybe it's not the fact that you like an older man that I'm questioning." Bucky mumbled under his breath.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Your eyes narrowed. But no sooner had the question left your lips had you started to figure out the intention of his words all by yourself.

Could it be the fact that you were dating an older man that wasn't him?

Not wanting to wait for Bucky to confirm this thought, you downed your glass and walked off to find Natasha. Maybe it was the quick rush of alcohol as it flooded your senses, but your heart was definitely beginning to beat faster.

-

You had managed to avoid Bucky for the rest of the night. Every time you caught his eye, you quickly redirected your gaze elsewhere. You engrossed yourself in gossip with Natasha, in jokes with Sam, and in drinking games with Yelena. But not even the best distraction in the world could take away the thoughts of your earlier conversation with the super soldier. And when your boyfriend text you, saying not to bother waiting up for him, it only got worse. Why were you so concerned with maintaining a relationship with someone who didn't share the same sentiment?

"Hey, I think i'm gonna head to bed." Natasha slurred after a while, nudging you slightly and pulling you from your thoughts into the present. Her eyes seemed weary as her drunken state turned into one of exhaustion.

"It is getting quite late." You sighed and scanned the room. The once full lounge had dwindled into strays as the Avengers slowly retired to bed one by one as the night had gone on. Now, only a couple remained. You finally couldn't resist sneaking a glance at Bucky across the room. Almost immediately, your brain spiralled and you had unwillingly allowed your mind to once again be consumed by him.

Biting your lip, you tried not to admire the way he looked tonight. Maybe it was the drinks taking effect, but even you had to admit Bucky was looking better than ever. His black t-shirt pulled taunt across his chest, looking like it could rip open with even the smallest twitch of his muscles. That particular image lingered in your mind longer than you would've liked, or cared to admit. Lustful thoughts suppressed those of guilt. Granted, simply possessing sinful ideas wasn't cheating. But if you didn't get rid of them soon, who knows what they might cause you to do?

Natasha hopped off the bar stool, her feet wobbling as she reached the ground. "You coming?"

As you looked into her eyes, it was clear that she knew something was up with you. But she couldn't quite put her finger on what. Maybe that was for the best.

"I think I might hang out here for a little longer." You said slowly, trying to keep your voice light and casual.

"You sure?" Natasha pushed, her eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion.

"Yeah, I'm not really tired." You shrugged, giving her a small smile in an attempt to appease her curiosity.

After a long minute, Natasha relaxed. "Okay. If you insist."

You exhaled a small sigh of relief. "Goodnight, Nat. See you at training tomorrow."

The red head squeeze your arm gently as she left. Sat there alone, you realised how quiet the large room had become. You nursed your empty glass for a moment longer before setting it down on the counter top. In the absence of the party music, the clink it made against the marble surface was deafening in the newfound silence. You swore you actually saw Bucky flinch a little bit from the opposite side of the room.

"What are you still doing up? You waiting for your boyfriend or something?" He asked quietly.

"He's… he's not coming back tonight," you mumbled, "apparently going out with people he doesn’t even know is more important than my feelings."

Bucky's eyes filled with pity as he looked at you. "Oh, that's- i'm sorry…"

"Don't be. It's not your fault that my relationship's on the rocks." You mumbled, even though deep down, you knew that wasn't exactly the truth.

"It is?" He asked. Curiosity got the better of him, and Bucky closed the distance between the two of you as he walked over.

You nodded, not trusting your words until you gave yourself time to think.

"Am I allowed to ask why? Or are you going to ignore me again like you have for the whole night?" His tone was mocking, but underneath there was a softer edge. Bucky had been hurt by your ignorance.

You sighed, feeling bad about how you were acting towards him. It wasn't fair, but what could you say? You hesitated a little, but decided to be honest. "You should take it as a compliment that i'm talking to everyone here but you."

Bucky's face twisted in confusion. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

It was now or never.

"Every time I look into your eyes, I feel like I might sink and drown and die." You whispered. You had never meant it more than you did in that moment. Right now, they were flashing deep blue, a vast ocean as he studied you.

But the truth was finally out there, and Bucky was just as surprised as you were that you had finally come out with it. He stayed quiet, and you took the opportunity to continue.

"I can't stop myself from being attracted to you."

"You have a boyfriend." He muttered, looking away.

"I know. And there's nothing I hate more than what I can't have. That's why i'm so furious at you for making me feel this way."

Bucky's jaw clicked as his eyes flickered up and down your face, waiting for you to say you were messing with him. When you didn't, he groaned at the position you were putting him in. Finally, his flirtatious comments had wormed their way into your head, and he didn't know how to behave anymore. He wanted you. He had been wanting you ever since he'd laid eyes on you.

With the increasing urge to act on his heart rather than his head, Bucky's resilience weakened. As you stood in front of him, cheeks flushed rosy with nerves and eyes bright with what could only be described as hope, his heart pounded in his chest.

Then, he decided to hell with it - if you could be honest, so could he. "You're ruining my life by not being mine, doll."

Fuck it.

Your lips were on his in a second, taking his breath away and keeping it for yourself. Curling your hands through his hair, you pulled his head closer as your nails scratched lightly at the nape of his neck. He hissed into your mouth slightly, and the sound faded into a soft moan. His hands ran down your back to your hips, digging into the soft flesh. Tracing the waistband of your skirt, Bucky smirked as he heard your delicate breathing hitch. He pulled back an inch, equally as flustered.

"Tell me what you want."

"I want you." You whispered.

His lips sucked at the sweet spot on your neck before leaning into your ear. "Mm, is that so? What about-"

"Don't say his name. Not now." You whispered.

His wrists jerked violently, spinning you around in his arms. His chest pressed up against your back, his heart beating fast. Bucky's lips met your neck in gentle kisses, and your head fell slack back against his shoulder. Goosebumps arose as he gently teased your skin. Pulling your hips back with his left hand, he pushed your back forwards with his right. You barely had enough time to brace yourself before your front sprawled out across the marble. The cold from his vibranium fingertips spread like a chill up your spine.

Before you could protest, you felt his hand slide up the inside of your thighs. He lifted the hem of your skirt up, deliberating taking his time as he marvelled at the slow reveal of your bare skin. Shivering, your hips pushed back needily against his. He groaned under his breath as he felt your desperation. Through his tight jeans, you could feel his hardening cock straining in the denim.

His fingertips brushed the edge of your panties, already slick with your arousal. He toyed with the damp fabric, moving it aside before pushing one finger gently into you. That first moment of intimate contact between the two of you was heavenly. As Bucky's finger stroked upwards against that sweet spot, you bit your lip to suppress a moan.

"Don't be shy, princess. It's okay, I know how much you want this," Bucky murmured, daring to add another finger, "let me hear those pretty sounds."

When he added that second finger, you were done for. Your mouth fell open and you couldn't hold back any more. They curled inside of you, brushing that sensitive spot over and over again. With your eyes rolling back into your head, you finally gave in to him and let out every single noise you'd been holding back. The soft cries fell from your lips as he pushed you so close to the edge with his fingers alone.

"That's it, baby. God, you sound like heaven. Can't wait to hear what noise you make when I finally take you."

Just as you teetered the edge of your orgasm, he snapped you back from that ledge with the sudden loss of his touch. You opened your mouth to complain when you heard the metal buckle of his belt clatter as he undid it. Bucky stepped closer, and you felt the head of his cock push between your folds. Nudging your legs slightly further apart, Bucky leaned against you. He rubbed back and forth slowly, every second feeling like an hour.

"Are you sure you want this?" He asked in a hushed voice. It was a sharp contrast to how his previous behaviour, but his need for your consent on actually going through with cheating on your boyfriend outweighed his desire for you.

You hesitated, the reality of what was about to happen finally settling in your brain. As guilty as you felt, this was what you wanted. For so long, you had felt so much shame in your pining. But Bucky wasn't judging you for it. He was more than willing to comply, if it was what you truly wanted. And in that moment with one simply nod, you decided that it was.

With that, his hands trailed up to your hips, gripping slightly as he eased into you. Your breathing hitched at the stretch as your body adjusted to his size. It wasn't like your boyfriend was small, but damn - Bucky was something else entirely.

He didn't stop until he was fully seated in you, his hips meeting yours. The sensation was everything you imagined and more. Filled to the brim with the breath knocked out of you, your eyelids fluttered shut.

"Fuck, doll. Look at you, taking it all so well." His sweet murmurs fell from his lips as he breathed heavily.

He drew his hips back slowly, before moving back in. Bucky listened to your quiet purrs, carefully increasing his pace the more he sensed you relaxed. Before long, he was pounding into you as fast as his body would allow. He kept his focus on the sight of you in front of him, back arched across the counter top taking every inch of him that he had to give you. His hand slid up your back, reaching for your hair and grasping it in his fist. You whimpered as he tugged on your hair, forcing your head upwards. It was something you'd never done before and by the way your walls clenched around him, Bucky could tell you were enjoying it.

"Feel so good around me…" Bucky breathed, his grip on your hips getting tighter with every thrust.

Every sharp thrust from him pushed you closer to the edge that he had previously kept you from. But this time, Bucky had no intention of stopping. Your body jerked underneath him, feet leaving the ground with every swift snap of his hips. Tiny stars clouded your vision, and you reached out to grasp the counter top to steady yourself from his relentless rhythm. Your jaw fell slack open, struggling to get any noise out besides heavy pants.

"Bucky, I-" You eventually managed to choke out.

"I know, doll. I know. Let go." He moaned.

With his permission, you finally allowed yourself to reach your climax. Tiny gasps and whimpers slipped out from you as you squeezed around his cock one final time. The pulsing sensation was all it took to send Bucky spiralling after you. He let out a string of curse words through gritted teeth as he spilled deep inside of you. Bucky stayed where he was for a moment, allowing you both a minute to catch your breath before pulling out. You winced at the sudden empty feeling, a dull ache from the absent presence of him already settling between your thighs. Bucky pulled your soaked panties back into place and readjusted your skirt back to its original position. Slowly, you eased yourself up from the counter top he had had you pressed firmly against. Turning to look at him, you saw that his cheeks were just as red as yours. The corners of his lips turned into a smile as he saw your face again, and you couldn't help but match it.

"So," he chuckled, "about you not being mine…"

Glancing down at the ground, your blush deepened. The last few minutes had cemented everything you had been wondering for weeks. The feelings in your heart had always belonged to Bucky, even if the common sense in your brain had not. Yeah. You and your boyfriend were definitely over after this.

[cambion-companion]

A Marriage Contract

Eyo...I had an idea LOL what a world!

The scenario of Raphael x reader (gn) being forced into some sort of marriage agreement has been bugging me ALL day! Hopefully some of you lovely folks are as depraved as I am and enjoy this!

“This isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”  

You were sitting opposite Raphael, the firelight flickering orange across his scarlet visage. You watched with bemused interest as, with a black quill, he scratched ink across a sheaf of yellowed parchment.

The cambion took little heed to your agitated words. His posture was relaxed, one long leg stretched out between your own, his tail tapping idly against your thigh where it rested.

“Raphael.”  You leaned forward, catching a glimpse of the words he now wrote in that elegant script of his. “…Hey, I did not agree to doing that every day with you.”

A peeved hiss escaped Raphael’s sharp teeth as he removed quill from paper and sat back, his yellow eyes finally moving to your tense face. “This arrangement is at the behest of one I cannot yet deny.” His long fingers drummed a pattern against the cherrywood table. “Don’t complain too much, pet.  I may begin to think you’re getting cold feet.”

“Not in this sweltering house.”  You quipped back.  Then you pointed again to the sentence he’d scrawled detailing what lurid acts he expected from you. “I will not be doing that.”

“Might I remind you, this is a contract of marriage.”  

“Believe me, I am well aware.”

“You would receive such pleasures in kind.”

This gave you pause, your brow arched in disbelief. “From you?”

Raphael chuckled dryly. “Yes, from me.  Master of the House, your doting husband.”

Your skin prickled. “There’d better be a clause in there for an annulment once all this is over.”

“It’s possible for such a loophole to be penned in.”  Raphael tilted his horned head diplomatically, though his eyes remained hard. “For you to take advantage of should the fires burn too hot.  However, you will always be mine.”

“How romantic.”  You deadpanned.

“I certainly try.”  Raphael rolled his broad shoulders and stretched his neck side to side.  “Now, shall I rescind these latest conditions or are you now more amenable?”

You hesitated, scooting your chair closer so you could better read the script without getting a crick in your neck. “Hmm…yes, alright. You can get rid of the ‘submits to my will in all infernal matters’ bit.”

With a smooth motion Raphael struck a line through the offending words. “Would ‘heeds my counsel in all the doings of my domain’ better suit your tender palate?”

“Rewording the same sentiment isn’t going to get passed me, love.”  You kissed his cheek, teasing.

Sharp claws pierced the flesh of your jaw as, quick as a viper, Raphael grabbed your face with one hand and held you very still.  His face turned and your noses brushed. You felt his warm breath and his hot skin.

The air between the two of you grew tense, riddled with the frustration at your situation and the desire you’d had for one another since meeting. The lust to dominate and own from him and your need to be wanted and no longer alone.

“This marriage contract is forever binding, little mouse. Much more so than those fragile slips of paper from your insipid mortal world. There is not a clause in your wildest imaginings that will free you from me once you sign yourself over.”

You felt a rush of heat flood your cheeks, his strong hand still holding your head firmly. “We have little choice.”

Raphael’s grip tightened and he brought his lips against yours, just enough to leave you craving more. “What a quaint notion, to believe I have no power to deny or evade.”

He did not elaborate, but his message was clear.  Raphael wanted this. The thought didn’t leave you feeling warm and fuzzy.

There was an evident dynamic here that you didn’t have the capacity to fully understand.  It gave you a sense of dread yet sent a thrill through your body.

You gave Raphael a smile bordering on playful. “Your signature mysterious and vaguely threatening answers won’t exactly breed a relationship of trust.”

“You and I have very different concepts of what a marriage should look like.”  Raphael released your jaw and took both your hands, pulling you with one strong movement onto his lap.  His tail wrapped around your waist, securing you against him. “Speaking of ‘breeding’, I have an excellent idea.”

Your retort was silenced as a long tongue and sharp teeth claimed your mouth and drank down your following noises.

[ilycosy]

bottom luke! bottom luke! bottom luke—

i may be a subbottom but a gal can dream !!! (also my friend eats bottom luke up so :3)

i js know that he'd be such a 50/50 guy tbh !!! ur either getting the sweetest boy ever or the biggest brat ever (headcanons !!!!)

warnings : TLT SPOILERS , afab + amab! reader , pegging , overstim , dacryphilia , creampie , petnames (pretty boy, sweet boy, princess) , daddy & mommy kink , loving sex but also toxic , also YES i feminized luke

afab reader (mommy kink)

୨୧ — he's definitely more on the good boy spectrum with somebody that has a mommy kink, especially if they're on the softer side of it?? he's so whipped and ready to listen

୨୧ — gets super embarrassed though when it's brought up, being the best swordsman at camp he definitely struggles with the need to be dominant or prove himself capable of taking care of you (which he can !! you just like taking care of him more)

୨୧ — ok now onto the actual sex !! he's superr whiny, like im talking high pitched and having to muffle his noises in the bed type whiny. hes constantly out of breath and panting when being prepped, no matter the amount of fingers

୨୧ — he says he prefers smaller straps because they're easier to take but i think he's just a little insecure (that can be fixed w a little bit of talking)

୨୧ — weak at the mfing knees for being called a good boy— "you're such a good boy for mommy!" "good boy, now turn around." "be a good boy for me?" — he's a puddle on the floor now

୨୧ — he definitely gets jealous if he finds out you've pegged others (i said it was a lil toxic !!!) so he ends up with his own toys, mainly out of spite rather than actual concern for germs (also ,, who doesn't love custom stuff ??)

୨୧ — as an apology for the betrayal, he basically begs you to use him (his words not mine) he lowk doesn't want you to stop until he's crying and can't cum anymore. he tries to run off before aftercare and tbh won't accept it due to guilt (unless you join him , like i said , he's toxic)

— afab reader 🤝 amab reader = calling luke pretty boy

amab reader (daddy kink)

୨୧ — different from afab, i think he would lean more on the bratty side. he definitely has issues with accepting men as authority figures (look at his dad) so i think it might take some getting used to being the bottom (esp the sub)

୨୧ — he never talks about it, especially when others could potentially hear. he likes making people believe that he's the dominant one in the relationship even though he's not and both of you know it

୨୧ — actual sex !! he's still super whiny, but he probably tries to hide it a lot more. he chokes up a lot on his own spit from holding it in (dw just force his mouth open !!) but for some reason he seems to like it better that way, being forced to make noise

୨୧ — doesn't really matter how big you are, but he definitely leans more on size queen... !! he tries to hide it but he can't help but buck his hips back onto your cock when it's near

୨୧ — he will never admit it, but being called princess and being treated like he's fragile will always get him going— "cmere princess, come sit." "shh princess, you don't want people to hear do you?" "are you seriously that desperate for daddy's cock princess?" — he's WEAK !!!!

୨୧ — don't ever and i mean ever talk about your sex life in front of others, you don't even need to have slept with people for him to be clawing at your back to make sure you know you're his later !!

୨୧ — he definitely expects you to join his side w the betrayal, he can't fathom putting sm trust and allowing a masc authority figure in his life like that only for you to side w others— he begs and pleads during the hate (or love if you're going w him) fuck for you to cum in him so he has something

★ general note, while i wrote this w fem & masc readers in mind (duh) i think luke doesn't care abt genitals and relies more on terms w how he acts !!! like if you were afab but liked to be called daddy he'd be more bratty & vice versa <3

[princekeerys]

Lucifer x shy Baker reader

very first lucifer story and i can’t tell if i like it or hate it lol but i hope u guys enjoy it!! :)

☾. °.   ࿐  ` , •

sugar. butter. flour.

that’s how most of your days went — baking pastries in one of hell’s finest bakeries, serving regular, everyday sinners, to the fanciest overlords of hell. it was tiring work, starting everything from scratch each and every morning and making sure every bite would be the freshest it could be.

you, yourself, weren’t an overlord — just a normal city goer on the streets of pentagram city, doing your job to make a living. even in hell you’re expected to pay rent; but i guess that’s why it’s called hell.

the door chimes, signalling a customer entering your quiet little bakery that smelled of strawberries and sweetness.

“hello, darling” and there he was — lucifer morningstar, the king of hell, himself. you look up from where you were putting the last of your pies in the display case, your cheeks becoming as red as the strawberries you cut up earlier. “oh, your majesty! hello!” you make your way to the front counter, hoping he doesn’t realize how flustered he makes you merely by his own presence.

oh, he absolutely notices. and it feeds his ego tenfold.

he rests his elbow on the counter, resting his chin on the back of his hand.

“i believe i ordered a dozen of your finest cupcakes. shaped like ducks, to be more precise” you chuckle to yourself — who knew the king of hell would get so much enjoyment out of rubber ducks? “let me go get those for you, your majesty”

“oh, dear, there’s no need for formalities. lucifer’s just fine. especially since i’m in here oh-so often” he looks at you with half lidded eyes, raising his eyebrows at you. he knows exactly what he’s doing to you when he speaks in that tone.

you try not to stumble over your own two feet as you get the fancy pink box that has a clear lid, perfectly displaying his highness’s order. you can feel yourself trying not to shake with nerves because satan, he’s so beautiful. “i’m beginning to think you come in here for more than just the sweets i bake” you place the box with fragile goods down in front of him on the counter. lucifer chuckles at your statement, drawing small circles with his pointer finger on your counter. “oh, really? and what makes you say that, hm?”

“i-i don’t know… maybe it’s just an observation, but you come here more than the regulars. and when you do, you usually strike up a conversation with me for hours on end until i have to tell you we’re closed” you chuckle shyly, recalling the countless times lucifer has come in just to talk to you, or give you so many compliments that turn you into a blushing mess.

you don’t understand why he has specific interest in you; he barely knows you, and you him. only in the fairytales in your mind are happily holding hands together.

“oh! haha! that!” he looks nervous, fiddling with his jacket lapels and wiping none existent dirt off his sleeves, not realizing how many times he’s come in just to see you. but he can’t help it, he’s craving the sweetness you give off of lavender and daydreams that it spins him poetic; and he hopes that maybe one day you’ll let him have a taste (you will). “i suppose you just have a way of… drawing me in, i-i guess”

“i just work here, lucifer… you don’t even know me”

“well then, perhaps we should change that then, don’t you think?” you furrow your eyebrows in confusion, tilting your head like a small puppy. lucifer’s heart nearly beats out of his chest. “what do you mean?”

“i meaaan… come by! a-and share some cupcakes with me! and we can also have tea! or chocolate milk! we don’t even have to have the cupcakes! i can get something made for us! michelin-tasting menu, free à la carte!”

you giggle at his excitement and lucifer swears he could listen to that sound for the rest of eternity.

“i-i get off work at five?” you ask with a shy smile, pink dusting your cheeks at the thought of a date with the man you’ve been crushing on for so long. “then i shall see you then, my dear” he kisses the back of your hand with a gentleness that leaves your head spinning as he picks up the box of duck-shaped cupcakes and walks out of your bakery.

please reblog/comment if you enjoyed my work, it’s greatly appreciated ♡

[ahsxual]

William Afton x Fem!Reader who is his stepdaughter, Y/N being a person that dresses very feminine and a lot of short skirts and dresses. Y/N would have a boyfriend that she learns had cheated on her with her best friend and she goes to her mom and stepdad house for comfort from her mom before quickly, realizing her mom was not home and it’s instead gets cheered up by her stepdaddy 😏

Daddy's Comfort

Genre: Smut & Angst

Warnings: minors dni +18, sad reader, Soft!Dom!William x Sub!Reader, cunnilingus, fingering, Perv!William, married!William, nipple play, praising, William calls reader a slut twice, cheating, age gap (reader is +18), daddy kink, almost getting caught

Word Count: 2,2k

Tagging: @aliceblxck @wolfman-moony

Warm tears streamed down your face the moment you discovered that your boyfriend was cheating on you. And to make things worse, it was with your own bestfriend, the girl you were supposed to trust the most. But oh, how wrong were you. You never saw the bad side of people, because you didn't believe that people could be so cruel and untrustworthy. Whenever you felt down, you would go to your best friend's house to cry on her shoulder, but now that wasn't an available option, leaving you alone with your broken heart and no one to talk to about your pain.

You never liked to vent to your mother about your heartbreaks, feeling embarrassed to be vulnerable in front of her. Your stepfather William Afton, on the other hand, always gave you advice about how boys your age only wanted to play with naive girls and take advantage of their fragile hearts, which was why he was so strict about you having affairs or boyfriends. Right now, as you were heading home to get some comfort from your parents, since there was no one else who would listen to you, you realized how William was absolutely right.

You were hoping that your parents would be home at that moment, comforting you with the right words and the reassuring physical touch that you so desperately needed. However, when you opened the door, you noticed that only your new parental figure was home.

"Hi sweetie! How was your day?" William immediately noticed you weren't well the moment he looked at you. Your red face and puffy eyes weren't fooling anyone, especially your stepfather who was such a intelligent and perceptive man, and who apparently knew you too well.

He was sitting on the couch watching a criminal documentary to which you didn't pay much attention, as your mind was occupied with other thoughts. He was already in his pajamas, so he must have gotten home some time ago. He got up quickly the moment you didn't answer him and instead you just cried on the spot, as his tall figure approached you carefully so as not to elicit any negative reaction from you.

"Hey hey come here, honey. It's alright, daddy's got you now, baby." he reassured you in a soft tone, as he hugged you against his strong frame. You instinctively returned his gesture, the feeling of hugging your stepdad being much better and needed than you expected.

"Do you want to talk about it?" you nodded, allowing him to carry you over the couch and sit you on his lap, while he rubbed your back and grabbed your exposed thigh to hold you closer. You hadn't realized the effect you had on him because you were wearing a short, pink dress with a bow that hung just below your cleavage.

"You were right, William... guys are all the same. M-my boyf-, I mean, ex-boyfriend cheated on me... with my bestfriend! How could they do this to me??" you started crying harder now that you had verbalize what had been haunting you since that morning, but you still felt much better for being able to talk about it with your stepfather. Suddenly, you felt William's hand squeeze your thigh harder, but you ignored that feeling for the moment. He remained silent for a moment before he spoke again.

"Sweetheart, boys your age don't know how to value a woman... Daddy tried to warn you, but you didn't listen. You need to find a real man who can take care of you and who won't break that soft heart of yours. You're too beautiful and young to cry over some idiot, and that's why I don't want you dating anyone. Do you understand me now, honey?" his voice was slightly deeper than before, but once again you let it pass. After listening to his "dad speech" about boys, you just nodded and leaned your head on his neck as you hugged him, looking for some kind of safety and warm physical touch.

"I'm sorry, daddy... I didn't mean to upset you. You were absolutely right... boys my age are real assholes." you stayed on his lap for a while, as he softly stroked your back and legs and kissed your head several times. As time passed, you noticed that his breathing changed its rhythm to a faster one.

"And there's one more thing..."

"What is it, daddy?" you asked innocently, having no idea what he was going to say next.

"You shouldn't... dress like that around men. You know how pretty girls are an easy target for men to take advantage of. You can... drive them crazy and make them do things that they can't... control. Do you understand what I'm trying to say, sweetie?" it was only then that you felt something getting hard under your ass, his thin pajama pants making it obvious that he was getting turned on by your outfit and vulnerable state. You blushed heavily at this and began to tremble a bit from embarrassment and nervousness.

"I'm sorry daddy, I didn't mean to..." you were left speechless, as you had no idea what to say or how to face this awkward situation.

"Do you want daddy to make you feel good?" he asked bluntly, his tone indicating that his intentions were far from innocent.

You didn't know how to react, but what you did know was that you desperately needed him inside you. You stared deeply into his eyes, trying to figure out if his intentions were the same as yours, and as soon as you realized this was confirmed, you simply nodded and spread your legs wide. His pupils were extremely dilated and his stare at your lips was becoming unbearable, while a small smirk appeared on his face.

"My babygirl is so good to me... I promise that daddy will take care of his sweet girl and make her forget about everything that upset her. Do you want that, bunny?" his hand was now dangerously close to where you needed him the most, as you felt your white cotton panties already soaked by his simple touch and voice.

"Yes daddy, please... I need you." you moaned softly, and that was enough to drive him crazy.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked cautiously, yet you could see he was getting desperate and impatient to touch you in such an intimate way. The moment you said yes, his thin lips glued to yours in a hungry, passionate kiss, a kiss you'd never experienced before. You could have sworn it was the best feeling you'd ever felt, until he rubbed his long, skilled finger against your clothed pussy and smeared your cum juices all over your already ruined panties.

"Oh fuck... is this all for me, baby? You're so, so wet... it'll make everything so much easier, you'll see." and that's when you felt him pull your panties aside to insert his middle finger inside your cunt.

You immediately moaned loudly as he curled his finger inside you, hitting your g-stop over and over again, so sweetly. He went from fingering you to drawing circles around your clit as you he kissed you slowly, his tongue dominating its territory inside your mouth. After a couple of minutes, you felt yourself getting closer and closer to your first orgasm, before he added a second finger inside you. Just as you were about to cum, he started fucking you faster and harder with his fingers, before bitting your neck and sucking on a purple hickey, making you reach your limit much more intensely. While you recovered, he never stopped kissing your neck and face, making you feel like the most special girl in the world.

"My sweet girl is so beautiful when she cums... What a beautiful sight to behold every day, every second... if only it was possible..." he whispered lovingly as he played with your lower lip. You wanted to please him too, so you took his thumb into your mouth and started sucking on it the best you could while gazing into his eyes.

"Can I suck your cock, daddy? Please, I want to pleasure you too." you were too eager to see what was under those pajamas, the hardness of it already promising that he could destroy you if he wanted to. He chuckled softly at you while shaking his head.

"Not now, sweetie. Daddy needs to taste his favorite girl first. You're the one who's had a bad day, right? So I'm going to pleasure you until you can't take it anymore... You can suck daddy's cock later, ok? I promise you'll see, feel and taste every bit of my cock sooner or later... I'll make sure of that. But right now, it's all about you, bunny." you smiled at his gentleness, and only wished you could have more time alone with him, since your mother would be home soon. Now you understood why your mother married this man after saying several times that she would never marry again.

William grabbed you in bridal style and took you to your room, where you would feel more comfortable and remember it every time you went there or slept. You were giggling in joy in his arms, his pecks on your lips made you feel hysterical butterflies flying around in your stomach. When you reached your bedroom, he gently placed you on your bed before undressing you. Your nipples hardened not only because of how cold it was in the room, but also with desire.

"Would you look at this... my bunny has such a perfect pussy. I can't wait to fuck you so good, princess. You're gonna love daddy's cock inside you. But for now... I'm gonna show you how a real man eats his pretty girl's pussy." his tongue trailed slowly through your wet folds, before leaving soft kisses on your clit. It was driving you insane and you desperately needed to beg him for more.

"Daddy, please... I need more please!" on another occasion William would continue to tease you, but your time was limited and he needed to make you cum again. He began to eat you out more eagerly, until you screamed his name over and over again. His skilled tongue never stopped pleasuring you, his beard and chin all covered in your juices, before you came again on his mouth.

"Just one more time and I'll let you go, baby... Come one, make daddy proud and cum all over my face." he demanded, before pinching your nipples harder.

His tongue didn't stop sucking on your clit, before it entered your empty hole until it reached the sweet spot inside of you. His beard scratched your tights and the slight pain only increased the pleasure you were feeling. A few minutes later, he grabbed your trembling legs and forced them over your chest with one of his strong arms, while his free hand fingered your pussy at a fast pace as he sucked on your clit. That was enough to make you moan loudly from pleasure as you came in his mouth and fingers, your cum dripping from your stepdad's chin as he stood up and looked at you.

It was only then that you heard some keys trying to open the front door of your house and you both immediately exchanged a knowing look. William wiped his chin with his sleeve, before leaning down to kiss your lips. However, you couldn't let him go just yet.

You knew that your mom's routine was to go to the bathroom before greeting her family, so when William was ready to leave your bedroom, you grabbed his arm to turn him towards you. He frowned at you, not believing that you were willing to risk getting caught, before you pulled his pants down and freed his cock.

"Honey, what are you do-" you didn't let him finish his sentence, as you put his long, thick dick inside your mouth and started sucking him off as if your life depended on it. "Oh fuck, you needy little slut... you just can't resist daddy's cock, can you? You're so desperate that you're willing to get caught sucking off your own mother's husband. Bad, bad girl..."

And that's all he said, before forcefully grabbing your hair and fucking your throat harder than you thought, which made you choke around him as spit dribbled down your chin onto your exposed nipples. Your mother had already left the bathroom by then, so you had to be quick. You held William's hips firmly and helped him fuck deeper into your mouth, which helped him finish faster inside you. You swallowed every drop of his cum, before showing your tongue to prove that you were a good girl for him by swallowing everything he gave you.

"I had to thank you for making me feel better, daddy. I wanted you to feel good and proud of me too..." you smiled shyly, while blushing and bitting your lip seductively.

"Oh, you little whore... my baby is always surprising me for the better. Next time, I won't be so gentle with you. And this is not a warning... it's a goddam promise." he said with a satisfied grin, before leaving your room with a wink in your way that held a million promises.

[marlynnofmany]

Not Special

The refueling station was on a small moon in the back end of nowhere, close to nothing but a couple of wormhole junctions. Since it had a little convenience store and everything, it really gave off “7/11 next to a desert highway” vibes. Just, y’know, in space. The moon wasn’t big enough for proper gravity or air on its own, so someone had installed a gravity generator under the dusty red ground. And turned it up just a smidge too high, but I wasn’t going to complain.

I was going to buy pre-packaged alien snacks at the store while my coworkers handed the refueling. Mimi was calling the shots, tentacles waving and gravelly voice audible from here, while the Frillian twins handled the heavy lifting of connector hoses and Captain Sunlight was at the payment kiosk. The others were either staying onboard or already browsing the aisles.

I’d just picked up a pack of something colorful (doing an artful fumble-and-recovery because of the gravity) when a rowdy group of Armorlites trooped in. I didn’t pay them too much attention — just a bunch of macho dinosaurs with holstered blasters and bipedal swagger; totally normal here — but one of them said something that brought me up short.

“Hey look, another human,” said the cheerful voice. “Maybe you can get some tips on how not to be such a disappointment.” Raucous laughter followed.

I frowned in their direction and saw that they did have a human with them: a pale and unassuming guy just a bit shorter and stockier than me. He looked annoyed by the comment, but not surprised.

When he walked over to me, I asked, “What’s that about?” The Armorlites were already ignoring him.

The guy sighed. “They heard a lot of stories about humans before they hired me, and I don’t meet their expectations.”

“What kind of stories?”

“Humans doing daring things, like running for hours to get medicine to dying people, catching a diseased rat before it infected an entire space station, throwing fruit at charging fauna hard enough to make it leave…” He ticked things off on his fingers. “Exorcizing a ghost, and riding a hoversled like a skateboard fast enough to catch a bomb before it blew up. How am I supposed to compete with that?” He threw his hands in the air.

“Um,” I said, putting down the snack I was still holding. “Would it make it better or worse to know those were all the same person?”

“What?”

“The rat wasn’t actually diseased, the ghost was a howling dog, and I didn’t know the thing was explosive when I rushed to catch it,” I said. “And I wasn’t the only person throwing things at the fauna.”

“What?” he repeated, with a spread-arms gesture that smacked into the shelf. Rubbing his hand, he asked, “That was all you?”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “Unless there are other humans doing the same things, which is possible.”

He raked fingers through his hair, setting it at odd angles. “I can’t believe this. I’d tell them, but they’d just want to hire you instead.”

I rushed to assure him, “I’ve got a job already, and I don’t want to take yours.” I glanced over at the Armorlites, who were grabbing food and accessories. One clicked a flashlight on in another’s face, prompting curses from him and laughter from the others. That tracked from what I’d seen of Armorlite culture before. Toughness was important. Kindness, not so much. “What do you do for them?”

He sighed again. “Bookkeeping, officially. They needed somebody to handle the boring stuff like money and permits while they focus on hunting the biggest animals they can sell.”

“Gotcha. That sounds … exciting.”

“It’s not. It’s like going on a trip with my cousins again, except they’re even bigger and make fun of me for not having claws.”

“You’ve got other stuff going for you, though!” I said. “We just need to figure which of your differences they’ll respect most.”

“I’m all ears,” he said with a certain level of sarcasm. “Please tell me what about my fragile human physique will get me respect from the Mighty.”

Oh right, they did call themselves that. I’d almost forgotten. At least they were a straightforward species without a lot of mysterious depths.

“Well,” I said, thinking. “They like fighting. You’re more suited to stealth than they are, small enough to hide and do sneak attacks that they wouldn’t see coming. What if you introduced them to rubber band warfare, and sniped from hidden parts of the ship?”

“Nope,” he said. “That would just end with me cornered somewhere, and them showing off how even thin scales are tougher than my skin.”

“Good point. Oh! What kind of animals do they hunt? You said big ones, but do you know the specific names?” I got out my phone and brought up the database of known fauna that I’d talked Captain Sunlight into buying for me. As her own hired animal expert, it was really the kind of thing that I should have. My vet training on Earth only went so far.

“Uhhh, I think the last one was a treehorn,” he said. “Wait, they talked about going for Argoshan Dagger Birds next.”

“Right. Now what kind of noises do those make…” I typed quickly. Big creatures indeed, by the looks of it: Dagger Birds had prevented more than one colony from getting a foothold in the wilds of a nearby world, and were unlikely to stop being a threat anytime soon. I skimmed the rundown for the vocal files. “Here we go. Mating call.” Keeping the sound low enough for just us to hear, I played the croaking warble.

“Okay?” the guy said, confused.

“Can you imitate that?” I asked. “Give it a shot. Kinda like a frog. Woarrrk.”

Looking skeptical, he did. The expression on his face said he wasn’t impressed with his own efforts, but it sounded accurate enough to me.

“Great!” I said. “Give that a bit of practice, then you can go out with your crew and impress everybody by luring in some targets for them.”

“I could,” he said thoughtfully. “I usually stay on the ship while they’re hunting, but it might be worth a try. Can I have a copy of that sound for practice?”

He got out his own phone and I played it again so he could record it. The Armorlites were dumping things onto the front counter, ready to pay and leave. I caught sight of bright packaging that I recognized, and I had another idea.

“Thanks,” the guy said. “This might actually help. What was your name?”

“Robin Bennett,” I said with a belated handshake.

“Oscar Tennyson,” he replied. “Thanks for your help. Looks like I should grab my stuff and get going.”

“Before you go. See those tall cans with the purple labels?” I pointed at something the Armorlites were buying.

“Yeah?”

“Have you ever tried that?”

“No! They get wasted on it; I’ve steered far clear.”

I grinned with all my teeth. “That’s not alcohol. That’s caffeine.”

“What?”

“Humans can process caffeine better than most species on our own planet, and just about everybody in space. It’s a poison to most. It gets them super drunk, but for you—” I pointed at him with glee. “For you, it’s just a bit of energy. Pick your moment, then walk in casually while they’re getting wasted, and slam one down. See what happens.”

He was smiling now. “You’re sure? It’s really just caffeine? How much?”

“I checked into it before. One of those huge cans is like a watered-down coffee. These guys are absolute lightweights, and they don’t even know.”

He grinned to split his face. “That is the best news.”

One of them called for him to hurry up, and he bid me a quick goodbye before scampering off. I saw him grab food cubes, water, and a six-pack of caffeine, which he bundled onto the counter as the Armorlites headed out the door.

“Be right there! Just getting some stuff!”

They didn’t look, simply telling him not to waste any time. He smiled his way through the purchase.

Peeking over the shelves, I smiled too. Then I went back to my own purchases, with thoughts of getting an energy drink or two in his honor.

~~~

These started as backstory tidbits for the main character from this book, and turned into a sprawling adventure series in their own right. The sequel book will feature a return of some familiar faces. And Patreon is coming soon — even the free tier will be a handy way to keep up with the ongoing shenanigans of this particular human in space.

[febuary30thday]

Love

Yan! Uppermoons! + Muzan with an affectionate reader!

(Reader who likes giving hugs, kisses, and PDA, stuff like that)

(I'm sorry, but pookie always comes first 😫)

He is eating it up like it's his last meal

He may not be affectionate, but he likes it when you are

He's a major hypocrite

If he's not affectionate and then you take it as him not liking affection and stop, he'll hate it

He will demand an answer and when you explain it to him, he is not understanding

He will yell at you if needed (When he doesn't have your devotion)

He thinks that your affection is a sign of your devotion, and he needs your devotion

He only lets Kokushibo near you

His love language to you is gift-giving and words of affirmation

He'll buy you flowers, praise you, and rope you in

He knows exactly how to rope you in

He gives you punishments, even if you haven't done anything wrong, to test you

He needs you completely devoted to him and your attention only on him

If your attention is on something else, he will emotionally manipulate you, and make you dependent on him and only him

Don't try to resist

He turns you into a demon, so that he can read your thoughts and control you for his own needs

If you listen and stay affectionate, you live happily ish.

If you don't listen..... you don't want to know what happens

"Just stay devoted and love only me, darling, if you do, I'll provide you with the best life you could ever have."

With a man as stoic as him, you'd think he would like affection, right?

Wrong.

It makes him feel weak, and it feels like he's getting soft

The minute he feels weak, is the minute he thinks about Yoriichi, and trust me, that doesn't end well

That's what he thought about affection

Until you won his heart, and became the obsession of his life

The reason he lives, breathes, and becomes more powerful, is because of you

He is a lot more forceful in what he wants, and he is very straightforward about his intentions

He isn't good at emotional manipulation, but he is very good at intimidation, and, what are you going to do?

He loves your affection, and he is very affectionate as well, when he wants to be

He will stop you from whatever you're doing if he wants to kiss you, or cuddle you

DON'T try to stop him

He likes leaving his sword at his feet when he cuddles you, keeping his eye on it, and also showing you how vulnerable he is to you

He knows you love him, but he needs constant reassurance, believe it or not, he's very insecure

He will never admit this

Stay by his side, and he will treat you right

He also does turn you into a demon, because he can't stand the thought of being without you

"I'm completely vulnerable with you right now. I'm showing you my devotion, and I expect you to show me your devotion as well."

He loves it

It's his excuse to always cling to you

He is also affectionate as well, so you two go hand-in-hand

He makes his followers worship you as well, proclaiming that you are a deity, and they listen

He turns you into a demon pretty early when he realizes he wants you

He always keeps you on his lap

He is also very cheeky with his intentions, so sometimes he makes you wear the clothes of his followers

He uses it as an excuse to defile you

He spoils you like crazy

He is soft and gentle with his touches, believing you to be fragile

He treats you like porcelain (Not in the bedroom)

He teases you and is also very flirty

He does love you and will cuddle and coddle you always

As long as you are with him for eternity, he will love you

If he sees any of his male followers looking at you wrongly, he kills them off, despite having no intention to eat them

He makes you dependent on him as well, but also allows you some freedom, he isn't completely restrictive

Believe it or not, Akaza feels pity for you

Douma talks about you every chance he gets, he is very brave and open

Everyone's tired of it

"I love you, snowflake! You should stay with me for eternity! I promise to love you!"

He likes it, but is pretty mellow with his affection

He is very romantic, and also very possessive

He does say you are weak, but he only says that because he wants you to stay with him

He constantly says how he can protect you

He is afraid of losing you, so he appreciates the little things you do as well

Turning you into a demon was his choice, but he does feel a little bad

He hates leaving you alone so he completes his missions quickly

He takes you out, only when he's with you

He does like hugging and kissing you, but doesn't smother you like Douma does

He just likes showing you he loves you

He's trying, give him some time

He's kind of bad at the whole 'being in love thing' but he knows how to express love

He doesn't punish you as often, if at all, he hates doing that

He doesn't use underhand tactics to make you dependent on him, he kind of just does it on accident

He needs you to live, breathe and survive

He does love seeing you happy and would do anything for you

"Please don't leave me. I can't live without you."

[em-writes-stuff-sometimes]

darilaros (princess) │ Chapter 1: Sunrise

terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!

Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3 │Chapter 4 │Chapter 5 │Chapter 6 │Chapter 7 │Chapter 8 (COMPLETE!)

Synopsis: Queen Aemma brings a new child into the world—you. As the second daughter of King Viserys, you experience firsthand what it means to belong to the House of the Dragon.

Hello, everyone! Welcome to the very first instalment of this series, featuring baby!Babey and teen-uncle!Daemon! This prologue will be the only Daemon POV of this instalment (or at least that is my current plan), and there will be several time jumps in keeping with canon. Please keep in mind that, as canon diverges around Episode 5/6 in this series, much of what occurs in the show will also occur as-is here, so don’t expect anything particularly innovative in terms of plot, lol. I’m hoping this will be an opportunity to establish Babey as a firm part of the storyline in a manner that is a little less ambiguous, and will also serve to provide more wholesome Babey/Daemon interactions to foreground their later shift. A couple things: there will be NO ROMANCE in this fic, because Babey is a child. Ew. There may be mentions of romance between other characters, but this story will be told firmly through Babey’s eyes and thus events are limited to her own interpretations.

Anyway! Enough from me - on with the show!

TRIGGERS: mentions of miscarriage/stillbirth, mentions of childbirth trauma, blood.

“And so it was that, in the summer of 109 AC, Queen Aemma took once again to her childbed, remaining there for near two days for what would be a difficult and taxing labour. In the early hours of the morning, King Viserys and his lady wife welcomed a living babe—but not the babe they expected. The arrival of a second daughter took both by surprise, for they had come to believe the child in the Queen’s belly had been their longed-for son. It was nonetheless announced that the Queen had been delivered of a healthy girl, and a great relief was struck up across the Realm, the bells of King’s Landing being rung from dawn to dusk and the people gathering on the streets in praise of their new Princess.”

- ‘Fire and Blood: Being a History of the Targaryen Kings of Westeros’ by Archmaester Gyldayn

It's quiet this time, he thinks. No snivelling midwives, no wailing… A good thing, surely.

Still. The silence, in all of its peculiarity, is unnerving. After the last occasion—the frenetic activity bustling up and down the halls, the yelling, the sound of Aemma’s screams, the stench of blood thickening in his nostrils as he stepped forth to take his first and last view of the purple, unmoving babe in the cradle he would never outgrow—the absence of sound seems almost foreboding. Should he not hear the child cry? Should he not be within by now? He would venture to knock on the door, but he dare not risk disturbing this fragile peace—especially if it is not fated to remain so.

Thus, Daemon Targaryen, eighteen summers of age and the King’s very own brother, waits in his seat opposite the entry to the Queen’s chambers as he has done for hours. And, as he sits, he prays.

Well—not pray, exactly. He’d have to believe in gods to do that. But, should a higher power exist, it cannot hurt to lend his own voice to the masses that even now attempt to muster enough mercy to grant the survival of his cousin and the child she has worked so hard to bring forth these past moons. Let them live, he urges, pressing the thought out into the air around him, into the sky far above the Keep. Let them both live.

“Any news?”

Daemon snaps to attention, head tilting automatically to the intruder. He suppresses a sneer. Now is not the time.

“Nothing,” he says, taking care to keep his tone even.

Otto Hightower sighs. “Well”—the Hand of the King moves closer, towering over Daemon with his hands clasped behind his back—“no news is good news, I hope.”

“Hm.” He’ll not dignify that with a response.

Hightower’s eyes narrow in on him. “There is no need to sound quite so downtrodden, Prince Daemon. I am sure the King will find some use for you… now that you are no longer his heir.”

He knows what the man is after. A display of anger, perhaps—maybe even hot-headed insistence on his part that his position stands as it has since Viserys won the throne, that the child is dead, that the Lord has every reason to fear him still. He won’t give him the satisfaction, though. If his brother ventures out to see Daemon once again railing at his most trusted advisor…

Daemon’s desire to meet his nephew outweighs his need to put this upstart in his place.

“Never fear, Otto.” He smiles, lips stretched wide with too much teeth, threatening more than welcoming. “I’ll always have a place by Viserys’s side. I am his brother. And you…” He looks the man up and down. Even now, the pin of the Hand is attached to the cunt’s lapel like a sycophantic badge of honour, gleaming in the golden torchlight. “What are you, exactly?”

Hightower’s jaw clenches. “I am the Hand of the Ki—”

“For now,” Daemon says, a smug half-smirk playing at the very corners of his mouth. “Don’t forget that. For now.”

What he doesn’t say is plain to read upon his face. One day, he’ll understand. One day, he’ll see you for what you really are. A leech, one who latches onto power and drains those who truly wield it dry.

The reminder makes Otto pale. “I—”

The door creaks open, the flushed face of one Viserys Targaryen appearing in the space between wood and frame. “Daemon.”

Daemon rises. “Is—how is—” He cannot get the fucking words out.

His brother grins. “Aemma is well, and the babe is healthy.”

He lets out a relieved breath, surprised to discover exactly how tense he had been since the messenger had roused him from sleep at the hour of the owl. That tension releases itself with the air he pushes from his lungs, his shoulders sagging from the freedom of it. Suddenly, his eyes no longer feel so wide, so fear-bright, and fatigue sets in. He is tired. But first—

“May I see him?” he asks.

At that, Viserys pauses, whatever he had intended to say to Otto left unfinished. He clears his throat, all joy fleeing his face. “Ah… About that.”

“Is the boy… crippled?” The Hand’s voice is hushed, apprehensive.

“No, no!” Viserys insists, shaking his head. “Only… she is small, quiet. Nothing at all like Rhaenyra was.”

“A girl? But Runciter was so certain!” Otto says, mouth parted in shock.

Runciter’s a fucking fool. Anyone who sets stock by his theories ought to be burned alive, Daemon thinks, rolling his eyes. He’d never liked maesters—any of them, least of all the doddering fuckwits appointed to the vaunted station of Grand Maester. That Runciter had gotten this wrong is hardly surprising. None of them seem to know what they are doing.

He pushes around his brother and leaves him to his latest inanity, moving onward to where his newest niece lay.

The Queen’s chambers are stifling, unbearably hot, the windows closed tight and the fires blazing in spite of the warmth already pervading the early hours of the morn. Another ridiculous notion, he suspects, though whether it be Westerosi custom or Targaryen superstition, he knows not. Perhaps dragonbabes can only be born into the fire they are made from.

Last time he was here, Aemma had been gaunt, eyes red-rimmed and near hysterical from the passing of her first, her only son. She’d laid weeping in her bloodied shift still, bedraggled hair sticking to slick skin as she’d mourned the child, insensate to kind words or reason from any who had approached her. Eventually, Viserys had demanded all who were not the blood of the dragon to remove themselves from the room. Together, he and Daemon had borne Aemma from her childbed, had taken her to the bath still waiting, had disposed of the last markers of gloom and tragedy marring the space.

Only those of Valyrian blood should ever bear witness to weakness from one of their own. Only those of Valyrian blood could ever understand the magnitude of such a loss. Their line had been dying out since the Doom—every death since only ever added salt to the wound.

What Daemon walks into this time is different. So very, very different.

Aemma is gaunt still, overcome by weariness, no doubt sapped greatly by the trials of such long labour. Shadows carve deep hollows beneath her eyes, skeletal, made almost sinister by the flicker of dim light, and her mouth is pale and cracked. Yet, there is naught but a buoyant sort of lightness adorning her face, shining more brilliantly than a crown ever could.

The chamber bears none of that ominous atmosphere that pervaded that night, instead filled with the heady scent of frankincense clogging each breath he draws, earthy smoke settling warm in his gut. The sheets are clean. The midwives calm. The Grand Maester, asleep in the chair by the fire.

And, in the Queen’s arms, the smallest wrapped bundle he has ever seen.

“Is that…” He swallows, dazed and speechless.

His cousin beams. “Come,” she says. “Come and meet her.”

Wordlessly, he approaches, taking care to make his footfalls light so as not to disturb the delicate creature enshrined in a mother’s embrace. As he draws close, he sees that the babe is not asleep as he had thought. Instead, open eyes look upward, deep dark indigo with the merest hint of lilac-violet-amethyst, the promise of Old Valyria in that muzzy, unfocused gaze.

This is the moment he meets you.

Aemma graciously accepts his silent question, relinquishing you to your uncle with naught but a gentle sigh and a stroke to the cheek. So little are you that you settle easily into the line of his arm, head to the crook of his elbow and rump to his cupped hand, light enough that it would be easy to forget you are even there. You let out a soft bleat, feet kicking beneath your swaddling—but that is all. For when that blue-nearly-purple stare shifts, locking with his, you fall silent, still. And so does he.

You are beautiful.

Of course you are. Viserys is hardly the handsomest of men, and Aemma comely enough though of no great noteworthiness, but their firstborn is about as lovely as any girl of nine summers can be. Your sister.

Gods, he thinks. Rhaenyra, an elder sister. The very notion of his spoiled little niece playing such a part seems unwittingly hilarious in this moment. She will not like being made to share her mama and papa—her uncle—with you.

Right now, that is irrelevant. His attention returns to the slope of your nose, the rosebud bloom of your lips, the blush of your rounded cheeks, tracking the near ethereal features of your face with a delicate fingertip. Newborns are dreadful looking things, usually, squished and red and misshapen. You look like a painting, or a doll made by the finest artisans, a sculpture rendered by magic rather than mortal hands. He wonders if it is love for you—and it is love, he has no doubt of that, for his love of family is perhaps the one true redeeming quality he possesses—that blinds him to any imperfection, or if you really are as lovely as you seem.

“What will you name her?” he asks, smoothing the cloths off your fragile little head to take the briefest peek at your scalp. Ah—there it is. Targaryen silver. With an Arryn for a mother, one could never be certain.

“Rhaenyra’s insisted on naming her sister Visenya.”

Daemon glances toward the foot of the bed. Viserys has returned, absent of his loyal hound, drawing near without his notice.

He snorts. “How very like her.” ‘Tis true; Rhaenyra has always been fixated on stories of the Conqueror and his wives, in particular forming a fascination for the elder of Aegon’s Queens. It is a powerful name. A warrior’s name. He frowns. “A fine name—but not for this little thing.”

Visenya is anger and retribution; violence and chaos; death and destruction. Daemon can find nothing of the sort in you. Every part of you—from the tips of your fuzzed palewhite hair to the petite softness of your wiggly little feet—seems fit for a destiny of another kind. One of peace, of calm, of joy and goodness.

Aemma hums an agreement, wholly preoccupied with gazing at her newest child. “If she were a son, her name would be Baelon.”

“Hm.” Viserys steps forward, palm brushing featherlight across your side as he passes to sit by his wife. “Baelon and Visenya. Those are the names we had prepared. But alas, Baelon was not to be. And Visenya is not… right.”

Daemon stands, bringing you a scant few steps toward the window. Dawn is approaching. The sky has relinquished the darkness of night, and there, on the horizon, the faintest of ambers illuminates the locus where the heavens and the earth meet, silhouetting the city below. As he watches the sun rise, he just barely hears the staff behind him make their final exits, awash in a rustle of equipment and a hush of words offered to their mistress and exultant ruler.

A tiny noise below draws his interest. Your eyelids have drooped, soft lashes framing lavender lids that sweep across the skin of your cheeks. When he dips his finger into the parting of your mouth, you begin to suckle at him, reflex rather than need.

“What would you call her?” Aemma asks after seconds, minutes, hours. He turns, brow arched in surprise. She seems genuinely curious, though she is admittedly not one for mean-spirited japes as it is. His cousin has always valued his opinion more than his brother ever had, even if was she who had forced his bitch of a wife upon him. “If you could,” she adds, “what name would you give her?”

He looks to Viserys, wordlessly asking for permission. A dip of the chin is his response. Letting loose a soft grunt, he peers down at his small charge.

Visenya is too fierce. Gael too glum. Too many fucking ‘Rhae’ names, so no Rhaenys. Daella too bland, Saera too provocative, Alysanne too common.

And then, he thinks upon it. The perfect name. Your name. When he says it aloud, he is met with a shine in Aemma’s eyes, a gleam in Viserys’s grin.

“That is it,” the King says, nodding decisively. “That is what we shall call her.” Rising, he comes forward to clap Daemon on the shoulder lightly, hand warm even through the layers of his shirt and coat. “Thank you, brother.”

“Your Grace,” he murmurs, tipping his head.

There is a tightening in his chest, the sort of feeling that threatens to stop his heart from the depth of his own enduring emotion. As Viserys makes his way to the door to deliver the announcement—to proclaim your birth, to order the ringing of the bells, to declare your name for the entire world to hear and know—Daemon gazes down at you.

“What do you think, sweetling?” He says your name again.

This time, he swears that you smile back at him.

Read on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48798151/chapters/123097897

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[hanniluvi]

HIS EXPECTED FATE — JUNGWON FF

“ one day, i will stop falling in love with you. ”

PART TWO OF (Y)OUR EXPECTED FATE. ( READ FIRST ? )

SYNOPSIS Jungwon was going to try to move on—he had promised you. But, with his new career choice, he found himself writing books about his past lifetimes with you. As he convinced himself it would help as he could finally “let go”, you just had to come stumbling into his life again…after all, promises are sometimes meant to be broken.

( 🗝️ ) THE PAIRING author!jungwon x fem!reader

𓍼 WARNINGS character death, mentions of injuries (blood), use of petnames (my love + dearest), profanity (barely)

⌞ + ⌝ GENRE doomed immortal x mortal, angst, fluff-ish?

♡⸝⸝ WORD COUNT — 2.6K+ ( 2694 WORDS )

AUTHOR’S NOTE FINALLY part two is here !! i just loved part one too much so i had to let it get its moment one more time ( yes , we have favs around here !! ) writer jungwon is to DIE FOR and ugh, i just might write a long fic based on that idea SOLELY for my own satisfaction so yeah the wheels r turning in my head as we speak 🤍 but i hope you enjoy ^^

Jungwon should’ve known.

Each step echoes in the hollow corridors of his mind, a haunting reminder of the cruel cycle of fate. Your fragile form lies before him, a mere whisper of the vibrant soul he once knew. "YN!" he cries out, his voice choking with anguish as he gathers you into his trembling embrace.

With his eyes blurred with tears, he notices how you looked up at him, life escaping from you within the minutes, or even seconds you had left.

Through tear-streaked eyes, he watches as your gaze meets his, a bittersweet reflection of love and loss. "Jungwon..." your voice is but a fragile whisper, fading like a distant echo.

“Why are you still smiling?” His voice trembled, his fingers caressing the side of your face as if he was trying to remember every detail about you into his memory.

How could you still smile so beautifully during your final moments?

Searching into your eyes for answers, he notices you trying to speak to him. Yet, instead of words, trickles of blood start escaping your lips, only intensifying the moment. “Take your time, YN…” His voice quivers as he tenderly brushes away the blood that mars your once radiant face.

Looking at your current state, he knew time was no longer a factor. Still, those words spill from his lips, a feeble attempt to offer comfort to both you and himself.

"I'm always here for you, remember?"

"I'm sorry," you murmur, your voice barely audible above the relentless march of time.

As the weight of your apology hangs heavy in the air, Jungwon's heart clenches with a mixture of sorrow and regret. "There's nothing to apologize for," he whispers, his voice barely audible amidst the suffocating silence of impending loss. “I should’ve done more.”

"You've done what you could. I was the stubborn one," you reassure him, your words a soothing balm to his troubled soul.

"I still could've tried harder," he persists, unable to shake the burden of guilt that weighs heavily upon him.

"Stop blaming yourself, my dearest," your pet name pierces through his turmoil, a reminder of the depth of your connection.

How many more times would he hear it before you slipped away?

“Listen, can you do me a favor?”

“Anything you ask, I’ll do it.”

“Anything?”

“Anything, my love.”

“Pursue in something else in your life. Something that isn’t me.”

"How?" Jungwon's tone is laced with uncertainty, his mind grappling with the thought of creating a new path without you by his side. He’d always believed that you were the person he needed to have to live peacefully. But, the more he thought about it, the more he had led himself to the most painful goodbyes he’d forever remember.

"I know you can do it. You've spent so much time searching for me, knowing that I won't remember a single thing about our past lives—isn't that right?" Your words striked something within him, a painful reminder of the futility of clinging to pasts that can never be reclaimed.

"Try to change your fate," you urge, your voice tinged with hope.

"I can't see a life without you—even if you're in different bodies, or lives—I need you," Jungwon confesses, his desperation laid bare for you to see.

"You're..." you cough out, a sudden wave of panic flooding through him. "You're only going to keep hurting yourself."

“But—”

"Jungwon. Please," you implore, your voice barely above a whisper yet filled with unwavering determination.

"Okay," Jungwon concedes, his resolve crumbling in the face of your earnest plea.

"Promise me," you insist, your hand trembling as you extend your pinky towards him, a silent vow of mutual understanding and commitment. Despite your weakened state, your arm strains to support your hand as it reaches out to him.

Jungwon clears his throat, his own hand trembling as he interlocks his pinky with yours. A fleeting smile graces your lips, a final testament to the love that binds your souls together.

"I love you, my dearest," you whisper, your words a tender farewell as the grip of your hand on his begins to loosen.

Tears stream down Jungwon's cheeks uncontrollably as he watches you slip away, the echoes of your parting words resonating within his shattered heart. No matter the amount of lifetimes he has gone through, he could never get familiar with the pain he’d experience when losing you.

The only thing that was different was the thought of him finally wanting to take your advice seriously. After all, he did make one last promise with you.

“I love you too, my love.” he whispers, his voice choked with emotion as he finally surrenders to the overwhelming tide of grief.

“I’ll try my best.”

Sinking into his chair, Jungwon's gaze drifts across the scattered stacks of notebooks adorning his desk. With a flick of his wrist, he switches on the desk lamp, its soft glow casting a comforting aura over the room as he reaches for the nearest notebook within arm's reach.

With pen in hand, he begins to jot down the fragments of ideas swirling in his mind. As the words flow effortlessly onto the paper, he can almost feel the weight of his burdens lifting, if only for a fleeting moment.

Dropping the pen onto the desk, Jungwon stretches his cramped fingers with a small groan, the fatigue of sleepless nights finally catching up to him. Adjusting his posture, he straightens his back and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, the lenses reflecting words he had written in such a short amount of time.

Writing the last sentence, Jungwon closes the notebook with a sense of accomplishment, a faint smile gracing his lips as he flips through the pages one last time before setting it aside. It was one of the fifth notebooks he had put aside for this book—one of the books he’d spent so much of his time in because you had told him to follow his dreams.

So, he took it to heart, and he seriously never thought he’d be so committed until he finally managed to publish a couple of books of his own.

Finding himself in one of the bookstores, he found himself staring at one of the copies he had made. The countless hours spent hunched over his desk, the sleepless nights fueled by caffeine, and sheer determination had finally paid off.

Stepping closer to the display of his book, Jungwon feels a surge of pride swell within him as he runs his fingers over the glossy cover.

This couldn’t have been possible if it weren’t for your words.

Just as Jungwon is about to place the copy back onto the shelf, a voice startles him from his reverie. "Oh, you like that author too?" The sound of the voice breaks through the silence of the bookstore, drawing his attention to the person standing beside him—a cheerful stranger whose presence catches him off guard.

As he recovers from the sudden startlement, Jungwon's shock only intensifies when he realizes who is standing before him.

It's you.

You've been reincarnated, your familiar presence sending a shiver down his spine.

Quickly averting his gaze, Jungwon feigns casual indifference as he shifts his attention back to the shelves. "I was just curious, that's all," he replies with a slight nod, his heart pounding with a mixture of disbelief and longing.

Though he knows that you cannot possibly remember the countless lifetimes you've shared, the mere sight of you was overwhelming him. It was as if you knew, and you were simply mocking him for his misery.

“Oh, cool.” It would’ve been cool if he didn’t happen to bump into you now, especially since he tried his absolute hardest to not go out looking for you again. But, fate seemed to have their plans, and brought you to him like it was nothing.

“I didn’t know they released a new book—did you?”

“I’ve heard about it, that’s why I went to check it out.” he continues, his gaze fixed on the books before him as he struggles to maintain his composure. Despite the casual tone of the conversation, every fiber of his being longs to reach out to you, to hold you close and never let go. But he knows that such desires are futile, destined to remain unfulfilled in the cruel dance of fate.

He can’t fall for you again.

“Mind telling me what you heard about it? I’m quite curious as well,” Jungwon's heart races as you scoot closer to him, his pulse quickening for several reasons. It's been a while since he last saw you, and the sudden proximity is enough to make him feel flustered, a jumble of conflicting emotions swirling within him.

"Well, it's about a knight and a sorcerer," he replies with a bitter smile, carefully masking his true feelings behind a facade of casual indifference. After all, he can't afford to reveal his true identity as the author—not when he's spent so long hiding it from the public, especially for moments like this.

"Is that so?" you hum in response, your curiosity piqued as you peer over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of the book in his hands. Jungwon's shoulders tense up, unsure of how to navigate this unexpected interaction. Should he reveal his secret to you, or continue to play along with the charade?

"It's quite different as the male lead is convincing the female lead to stay with him—oh and I forgot to mention, the female lead is a knight," Jungwon remarked, his enthusiasm evident in his tone.

"Wow, that's kind of badass," Jungwon chuckles, momentarily forgetting his unease in the warmth of your reaction.

"She certainly was," he responds almost instinctively, before catching himself with a slight frown. "...from what I heard, that is," he quickly adds, cursing himself for the slip-up. He can't afford to reveal too much, not when his true identity as the author must remain hidden.

"What do you mean he was trying to convince her to stay though? What happened?" you inquire, effortlessly steering the conversation in a new direction. Jungwon feels a wave of relief wash over him at your gentle redirection, grateful for the sudden change.

"Well, since he's immortal, he had finally figured out a way for her to stay," Jungwon recalls, his voice tinged with a hint of melancholy. "But, she refused. And even with his pestering, nothing could convince her."

"Yikes—this author hates seeing people happy, huh?" you remark sadly, your empathy for the characters noticeable in your tone. "They always manage to write something sad, I feel bad for the characters."

Jungwon chuckles at your words, though there's a hint of sadness underlying his amusement. It's not that he hates seeing people happy; rather, he's grappling with his own memories, desperately trying to come to terms with the past in order to find solace in the present.

"It seems so," he finally manages to say, his voice betraying none of the turmoil raging within him. "But, you know, I haven't read the whole thing. It could have a good ending, who knows," he adds optimistically, though he knows all too well the outcome of that particular fate.

"I like the creativity though, I wouldn't have imagined this," you remark, your admiration for the author's imagination evident in your words. And as Jungwon listens to you speak, he finds himself drawn to the warmth of your presence, fully knowing he shouldn’t be.

He would only hurt himself again.

As silence envelops the room, Jungwon finds himself lost in his thoughts, the weight of his past with you casting a shadow over the present. But then, your voice breaks through the quiet, pulling him back to the present moment.

"I don't blame her though—I would've done the same," you added, your words tinged with understanding and empathy. Jungwon's gaze shifts to you, his heart aching at the familiarity of your smile. It's a bittersweet reminder of the lifetimes they've shared, each one leaving an indelible mark on his soul.

Meeting your gaze, Jungwon is struck by the overwhelming sense of deja vu that washes over him. Your face, so achingly familiar, holds a mirror to his memories—the way your hair falls in gentle waves around your face, the curve of your smile, and the moles that adorned your skin.

Your moles.

As Jungwon's gaze lingers on the moles scattered across your face, he can't help but feel a surge of nostalgia wash over him. Each mole seems to hold a memory, a testament to the countless kisses he had left upon your skin in your previous lives.

The urge to wrap his arms around your waist and kiss each mole floods Jungwon's senses, a longing that was meant to be fulfilled every lifetime. His heart falters, torn between the overwhelming love he feels for you and the bittersweet ache of your shared pasts.

You are just too pretty, he thinks, his breath catching in his throat as he struggles to contain the flood of emotions threatening to consume him. In that moment, you are more than just a familiar face—you are a living, breathing reminder of everything he has ever loved and lost.

He knows no matter how many lifetimes may pass, you will always hold a special place in his heart.

"Why?" Jungwon asks, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation as he searches for answers in your words, hoping they will provide solace for the choice you made to leave him in your past life.

"Living on forever doesn't seem like a good thing. It could get boring, so I would understand the female lead's thoughts. After all, not knowing the outcome of your life could only push you to work harder, no?" you respond, your words carrying a wisdom that resonates deeply within him.

"Even if it meant staying with your lover?" he presses, his heart pounding with anticipation as he awaits your response.

"Even if it meant staying with your lover," you affirm, your gaze unwavering as you meet his eyes.

Hearing your words stings, but Jungwon finds himself strangely grateful for the insight they provide into your perspective. They were all too familiar, and it was as if you meant to give him that reminder in every life of yours.

Perhaps he had always viewed love through a narrow lens, assuming that staying together for eternity was the ultimate expression of devotion. But now, as he reflects on your words, he realizes that love is as much about understanding and acceptance as it is about passion and commitment.

"I see," he murmurs softly, the words heavy with resignation yet tinged with a newfound sense of understanding. Maybe, just maybe, he should stop chasing after a love that may never be fully realized. "I understand, thank you."

Just as he is about to turn away, ready to take the first steps towards letting go of his past, he feels a tug on his sleeve—a gentle reminder that some bonds are too strong to be easily broken. Turning back to face you, Jungwon is surprised when you hand him a piece of paper. Confusion flickers across his features as he accepts it, watching as you walk away with a smile.

Opening the paper, his eyes widen in surprise as he reads the number scrawled across it.

"You're cute – call me? :)"

The boldness of your gesture catches him off guard, but a warm feeling spreads through him nonetheless.

Chuckling softly to himself, Jungwon realizes just how much he has missed you. Despite the promise he made to himself to let go, he finds himself unable to resist the temptation of reconnecting with you.

After all, you in your previous life never managed to keep your promises either.

With a sigh, Jungwon inputs the number into his phone, a mix of apprehension and excitement coursing through him. Perhaps, he muses, promises aren't always meant to be kept—at least not when they stand in the way of finding happiness and connection with someone he cares about.

Sending the first text, Jungwon felt like this was bound to happen.

As if it was his expected fate.

💬 : 🥸

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