#love requires effort and devotion

[normal-nightmare]

God. God I'm completely fucking insane about Dick and Jason

Their dynamic is everything to me. They have such a complicated relationship and history. They've been enemies and friends and almost-brothers. The what-ifs and should-have-beens and might-haves linger in between them so heavily. The guilt and grief sticks to their relationship and might never go away. They keep hurting each other but they love each other so much and they want to keep trying, to understand each other

Because that's what love is!! Relationships aren't perfect but that doesn't matter! They keep trying and they WANT to keep trying! Jason sees Dick for who he is and still thinks he's the most amazing thing he's ever seen. Dick has seen Jason at his absolute worst and still wants him around. They've both wanted the other dead and they've fought and gotten each other bloody and they still come back and offer a hand up.

They SEE each other- and that's terrifying. And they love each other so so deeply. The commitment, the sense of duty and obligation, it's all there. They don't HAVE to keep caring or trying- but they do regardless and God isn't that what love is? Trying?

Just. God they're so devoted to each other even when they've been hurt, even when they don't quite know how to show it or get the other to understand. But they try.

God, they try.

[gonkaccino]

Season 4 hope/prediction: Deb's show is solid, zero issues, runs flawlessly with great ratings, but her personal life is completely eroding. We start with her discovering Marcus is leaving, and it culminates in DJ going into labor right before a taping. Deb chooses the show. When it's over, and she finally flies to Vegas, it's too late -- Aiden's not letting her in because he loves his wife too much to let DJ get into a shouting match with her mom right after giving birth, and instead takes the brunt of Deb's wrath, with her making excuses and talking about how they used her money for IVF, and anyway, DJ's fine, so who cares if she wasn't there? Kathy's in the room with DJ and the baby (DJ's the closest she has to a daughter, after all) and Deb leaves too furious to think about how badly she's hurt her family.

She heads back to her Vegas mansion -- empty, obviously, Josefina and the dogs would be in LA -- and pops open a bottle of wine. Alone. Completely alone. Can't call Marty, she has no friends, the closest she's got would be Kiki and wouldn't that be embarrassing, calling your poker dealer to talk about your feelings --

and then Ava's there. She got the news about DJ's labor, she got the story from Aiden (who was distraught, by the way, man's too much of a sweetheart for Vance drama), a spare key from Damian (happy to pawn that off on her, though if it isn't returned promptly he's taking legal action) and has arrived just in time to see the Deborah Vance having a breakdown the likes of which no one thought physically possible. Crying gives you wrinkles, you know. But Ava has to be here. She's the physical embodiment of a lesson Deb never truly learned: you don't have to like someone to love them.

In my imaginary fantasy land that I am concocting this would then subsequently lead into them fucking nasty but I understand that this may be a step too far for the surprisingly large number of very normal people who watch this show and would forgive JPL for not taking it that far. However I do believe they should fuck about it and let Ava take the reigns in their relationship while they see how many of Deb's bridges they can un-burn.

[globalrebrand]

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

Starting with Capitano!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[reidmarieprentiss]

Better Together

Summary: Spencer knows he messed up, he wants to prove to you that it was a mistake. His words, not you. You would never be anything but his person.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, hurt/comfort, angst

Warnings/Includes: aftermath of taking a break, reinforcing love and commitment, mild groveling, happy ending

Word count: 2.9k

a/n: i would just like to say that i do not think engagement equals love and i also don't think it's necessary to get engaged to "prove" your devotion -- this is fiction and mama wanted a ring lmao

main masterlist part one

As Spencer stepped into the quiet of the apartment, the absence of your presence was palpable, a silent echo of the space growing between you both. His gaze drifted across the familiar surroundings until it settled on the note affixed to the fridge. The sight of it—a stark, solitary piece of paper in the place usually bustling with the warmth of shared meals and conversations—felt oddly jarring.

The note was simple, void of excess detail, stating only that you had gone to stay with a friend. It didn’t say who, nor did it need to. The message was clear: you needed space. Spencer’s heart sank a little more with the understanding, yet there was also a part of him that acknowledged the necessity of this distance for both of you.

He stood there for a long moment, the weight of the empty apartment pressing down on him, reminding him of the gravity of your last conversation. It was time to use this space effectively, to reflect on everything you had said, on the emotions that had driven you to seek solace away from him. Spencer realized this was not just a moment to passively wait for your return, but an active opportunity to address his own fears, to understand his hesitations about the future, and to think critically about how he could make you feel more cherished and included in his life.

With a heavy sigh, he moved away from the note and sank down onto the couch, the silence enveloping him. He knew the coming days would be challenging, filled with introspection and perhaps painful realizations. But there was also a glimmer of hope—the hope that this time apart could lead to healing and a stronger foundation for whatever lay ahead. Spencer pulled out a notebook and began to write, outlining his thoughts and feelings, the fears he rarely voiced, and the steps he might take to bridge the gap between you. This was his chance to transform understanding into action, to show not just through words but through meaningful changes that you truly were his world.

—

Spencer was acutely aware that healing the rift between you would require more than just time; it demanded meaningful, heartfelt efforts. The damage done was not something he could fix overnight, but he was committed to doing everything in his power to mend your heart.

He started with texts. Spencer wasn't one to rely heavily on technology for emotional communication, but he knew you cherished seeing his name light up your screen. Each message he sent was carefully crafted, infused with warmth and affection, designed to remind you of his presence and his regret. Despite the sweetness of his words, you found yourself wrestling with the urge to respond. You appreciated his efforts—they tugged at your heartstrings, yes—but they weren't enough to sweep away the hurt that had built up.

Recognizing the limitations of digital words, Spencer transitioned to something more personal: handwritten letters. Since he didn’t know where you were staying, he sent them to your workplace, hoping the surprise of receiving mail would bring a smile to your face. Each letter was filled with his unmistakable handwriting, his words oscillating between heartfelt confessions, sweet nothings, and the occasional goofy remark that was so quintessentially Spencer. You couldn't help but smile sadly with each letter you opened, touched by his efforts yet still guarded, the emotions each letter evoked a mix of nostalgia and melancholy.

As days turned into weeks without a reply from you, Spencer realized he needed to do more, yet he was mindful of your dislike for public displays or grand gestures. He knew whatever he did next had to respect your boundaries and preferences.

So, he kept it simple. One evening, he showed up outside your workplace with nothing but a small bouquet of your favorite flowers and a hopeful smile. He waited for you, not as a grand gesture, but as a quiet statement of his willingness to do whatever it took to begin mending the gaps between you.

When you saw him standing there, something inside you stirred. It was a testament to his understanding of you, a reflection of his desire to make things right in a way that felt safe and respectful. The sight of him, so hopeful and earnest, cracked the protective wall you had built around your heart just a bit more.

His approach was soft, his voice tentative when he spoke. "I didn't come to pressure you, just to give you these," he said, extending the flowers towards you. "I just want you to know that I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere, not unless you want me to."

The simplicity of the gesture, the sincerity in his eyes—it all resonated with you, reaching deep into the places in your heart that still ached for him. This was the Spencer you loved, the one who understood you sometimes better than you understood yourself.

—

Your stay with Penelope provided a comforting pause, a needed respite that allowed you to sift through the whirlwind of emotions and considerations that clouded your thoughts. Despite the necessary distance and time for reflection, your draw to Spencer persistently tugged at your heart, a constant reminder of what might be at stake. After all, he remained the love of your life, despite everything.

Motivated mostly by yearning and somewhat by determination, you felt it was time to go back home. It was a Saturday, a day Spencer typically reserved for introspection and journaling—a practice you respected for its purpose, though lately, it seemed to fall short in facilitating effective communication between you two.

You entered the apartment quietly, the familiar setting wrapping around you like a well-worn comfort. You navigated through the silent spaces until you reached his office door. There he was, ensconced in his usual spot, pen in hand and deeply absorbed in his journal. For a moment, you just stood there, watching him, taking in the sight of your handsome boyfriend, so focused and earnest in his contemplation.

With a heart full of mixed emotions—hope, love, and a tinge of residual apprehension—you approached him quietly from behind. As you wrapped your arms around him in a gentle embrace, you could feel him tense briefly, startled by the unexpected contact. However, as soon as he recognized your scent, the one so intrinsically linked to home and comfort, his body relaxed under your touch.

“Hi, darling,” Spencer greeted, his voice a soft murmur of relief and warmth, the endearment lingering between you.

As you nestled closer into Spencer, the warmth of his neck against your cheek, you felt the familiarity of your bond slowly rekindling the embers of connection that had seemed so threatened recently.

"Hi, Spence," you mumbled softly, your words barely audible, filled with the comfort and sadness of everything that had passed between you.

"You came home," Spencer responded, his tone tinged with a mix of sadness and hopeful surprise, as if he hadn't fully believed he'd hear those words or feel your presence like this again.

You nodded against him, the gesture simple but loaded with emotion. "I missed you," you admitted, letting the truth of your feelings spill out in the quiet sanctity of his embrace. It was a confession, an olive branch extended in the hope of mending the fractures that had formed.

Spencer's hand came up to gently rest on one of yours, securing it against him, a physical affirmation of his gratitude for your return. He turned slightly within the circle of your arms, attempting to catch a glimpse of your face, needing to see the sincerity in your eyes that matched the words you just spoke.

"I missed you too," he confessed, his voice a whisper of relief mingled with lingering apprehension. "A lot more than I thought possible," he added, giving voice to the depth of his feelings during your absence.

There was a pause, a breath of silence as both of you allowed the honesty of the moment to sink in. Then Spencer ventured further, his words cautious but necessary, "Are we okay? I mean, can we... talk about everything?"

You felt a flutter of nerves at the question—it was the one you both needed to address, yet feared. Taking a deep breath, you stepped back just enough to look into his eyes, searching for and finding the earnest worry reflected there.

"We need to talk, yes," you agreed, your voice steady despite the tumult of emotions. "But first, let me just say this... I came back not just because I missed you, but because I believe we can fix this."

His eyes searched yours, looking for the reassurance they so desperately needed, and he found it in your steady gaze. "I want that too," he said, the vulnerability in his voice striking. "I want us to work through this, no matter what it takes."

Encouraged by his words, you suggested, "Let's start by really listening to each other. No interruptions, just us, trying to understand where the other is coming from."

Spencer nodded in agreement, the gesture firm. "I’d like that. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and there are things I need to apologize for and areas where I need to do better."

"And I have things to admit too," you added, acknowledging your part in the strains that had tested your relationship. "Let's make a pact, here and now, to move forward together, with honesty and open hearts."

"Agreed," Spencer said, a soft smile finally breaking through the earlier tension. He extended his hand, a symbolic offering for you to shake. "Partners?"

"Partners," you affirmed, placing your hand in his, feeling a renewed sense of commitment enveloping the space between you.

—

"My parents' marriage... it wasn't something I ever wanted to emulate," Spencer confessed, the weight of his past evident in his tone. "And my father... he wasn't around. That left a mark on me, more than I usually admit."

Listening, you could see the struggle in his expression, the conflict of a man torn between his desires for a future with you and the scars of his past. His next words came slowly, each one a careful step forward. "I've been scared, really scared of turning into him, of failing as a husband... as a father."

"But," he continued, looking directly into your eyes, seeking the connection that had always grounded him, "knowing you, seeing how strong and committed you are, it gives me hope. When you came back... it meant everything. It told me that you're here, really here, even when things get tough."

You reached out, taking his hands in yours, squeezing them gently to offer reassurance and support. "Spencer, your past doesn't define your future. We can create something different, something better together. And I know you, you could never be like him. You're too caring, too thoughtful."

He nodded, a tentative smile beginning to form as the weight seemed to lift slightly off his shoulders. "Hearing you say that... it helps more than you know. I want to face these fears, not just for me, but for us. I want us to build a life together, free from the shadows of what was."

The conversation stretched on, each of you taking turns to lay bare fears and dreams, weaving a tapestry of shared hopes and commitments for the future. It was a pivotal moment, one that felt like a new beginning, as if you were both stepping out from under the heavy curtains of the past into a clearer, brighter day together.

—

One lazy Sunday, you were curled up on the couch, grateful for Spencer’s thoughtfulness as he had volunteered to run to the store to pick up the products you needed for your period. He had been so sweet and doting, eager to make you as comfortable as possible. In his rush to take care of you, however, he had left his phone behind on the kitchen counter.

When it started ringing, you instinctively picked it up, not even glancing at the screen, assuming it was your own phone. "Hello?" you answered casually.

"Spencer," Diana's familiar voice greeted you without skipping a beat. Before you could say anything, she continued. "I have your grandma’s ring. Would you rather I send it in the mail or do you want to come pick it up?"

You blinked in confusion, processing her words, especially the mention of a ring. "Um, hi, Diana," you replied awkwardly, realizing far too late that you were answering Spencer's phone, not your own.

"Oh, Y/N!" Diana's surprise was evident as she corrected herself. "I didn’t realize it was you."

You forced a small laugh, your mind already swirling with what Diana had just said. "Yeah, Spencer’s out running errands. I, um… picked up his phone by mistake."

"Well, no harm done," Diana chuckled lightly, though there was a warmth in her voice. "It’s good to hear your voice."

"Likewise," you replied, though your thoughts kept drifting back to the mention of the ring. "So, about that ring...?"

"Oh!" Diana said, realizing she might have let something slip before Spencer had a chance to talk to you. "It’s your grandmother’s engagement ring. Spencer and I were talking, and, well, he thought it might be nice to have it... for the future."

Your heart skipped a beat, the weight of her words settling in. Spencer was thinking about marriage, about proposing to you. Suddenly, the reality of your relationship felt larger, heavier in the best possible way.

"That’s... really sweet," you managed to say, though your voice wavered slightly, emotions swirling beneath the surface.

Diana’s tone softened, sensing what this meant for you. "He loves you so much, Y/N. I can see it every time he talks about you. I’m sure when he’s ready, it’ll be perfect."

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "Thank you, Diana. I appreciate that."

After a few more moments of polite conversation, you hung up the phone, still clutching it in your hand as you stared off into the distance. When Spencer came back a little while later, arms full of bags, completely unaware of what had transpired, you gave him a warm, knowing smile, your heart swelling with even more love for the man who had just picked up your favorite snacks.

"Everything okay?" he asked, noticing your slightly different demeanor.

"Yeah," you replied softly, still holding onto that secret knowledge. "Everything’s alright."

—

When Spencer finally brought the ring home, he did so with a heart full of intentions and a mind made up to bridge any distance that had crept between you two. The apartment you shared was softly lit, the ambiance calm and intimate—an environment that felt right for what he planned to do.

It was just an ordinary evening by all appearances, but for Spencer, it carried the weight of every moment that led up to this, every trial and misunderstanding, and every reaffirmation of his love for you.

You noticed he was a bit more fidgety than usual, pacing slightly before stopping in front of you, taking a deep breath as if to steady himself. You watched, curiosity piqued by his nervous demeanor, a soft smile playing on your lips, encouraging him silently.

"Y/N," he began, his voice stronger than his trembling hands. "I know there have been times when I haven't communicated well, when I've let my fears and past dictate how I handle our future." He paused, searching your eyes for understanding. "For every moment you felt you weren't enough, I am profoundly sorry. It was never about you not being enough; it was about me being too scared to admit how much I needed you."

You felt a rush of emotions at his words, warmth spreading through your chest, your eyes welling up with tears that mirrored the sincerity and vulnerability in his voice.

He took another deep breath, then knelt before you, the little box in his hand now open to reveal a ring—his grandmother's ring, rich with history and sentiment. "I can't imagine my life without you, and I don't ever want to try," he continued, his voice steady despite the tears that started to form in his eyes. "Will you marry me, Y/N? Will you be the joy in my every day and the peace in every night? Will you let me spend the rest of my life proving that you are, and always will be, more than enough for me?"

The room seemed to hold its breath as you took in the depth of his proposal, every word infused with his love and regret for any pain he had caused. Smiling through your tears, you nodded, words momentarily failing you as emotions took over.

"Yes, Spencer," you managed, voice choked with emotion. "Yes, I will marry you."

As he slipped the ring onto your finger, a symbol of promise and continuity, you both embraced, a long, tight hug that spoke volumes. It was a new beginning, a recommitment not just to each other but to always striving to be the best for each other.

In that moment, the past's shadows seemed to dissolve, replaced by the clarity of a shared future, one built on mutual love, respect, and the unwavering commitment to see each other through not just the easy moments, but especially through the challenging ones.

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[fatkish]

Imagine being a harmless incubus/succubus demon in the world of Demon slayer. Instead of feeding on the flesh of humans you feed off of their lust and cum. You worked in the entertainment districts and preyed upon people. Disguising yourself as a beautiful man/woman and using your power to lure them to you. Once you lured them you would feed off them and leave them. Although you never harmed humans as you think of them as a precious resource, Kagaya Ubuyashiki had heard rumors of you and decided that you would be better off supervised. So he sent his strongest and most trusted Hashira after you.

Gyomei, and Sanemi are sent out to capture you and bring you back. Since you aren’t inherently dangerous and don’t eat people, Kagaya had decided to spare your life but decided you still shouldn’t run amuck. Sanemi decides to go after you head on. He saunters right up to you and demands that you stand down and follow them, Gyomei silently stands behind him. Not really keen on losing your freedom, you fight, Sanemi is rough in his handling of you. Despite his and Gyomei’s best efforts, you manage to evade them.

The next attempt is with Rengoku and Giyuu. Although they too are less than successful with you giving the slip again. Deciding to set a trap for you, Kagaya orders Gyomei, Tengen, Sanemi, Giyuu and Kyojuro to set a trap for you. Tengen would be the bait and lure you into range for the others. Sensing Tengen’s lust (he was thinking of his wives) you sneakily try to approach him. Once within range, you try to lure Tengen only for your charms not to work as he’s already in love and devoted to his wives. Launching their attack, the four Hashira hidden in the shadows close in on you cutting off your escape routes. With the fastest Hashira on your tail, he manages to subdue you and tie you up.

As they return to headquarters with their prisoner, the sun peeks out and bathes you all in its light. Seeing as you don’t disintegrate, they question just what kind of demon you are. When you’re brought before Kagaya, he greets you and kindly asks about you. You tell him about your abilities and how you feed. Upon learning that without feeding you would grow weak and slowly die off, Kagaya decides to ask you to help his ‘children’ and take care of their needs. Since demon slaying is such a demanding job and leaves most of his children without time to find someone to care for their needs, he asks that you become that someone that his children can go to. Realizing you don’t really have any other options, you agree. And that’s how you became the Hashira’s cumdump.

Gyomei doesn’t rely on you very often but when he does, he’s actually very gentle and loving. He isn’t keen on using his strength and stature against his romantic/sexual partners, although that doesn’t mean he won’t lift them up and use them like his own personal toy. Sex with Gyomei requires lots of foreplay, which he’s more than happy to help with. He lasts for quite awhile but is mindful of his partner’s stamina. He cares about his partner’s pleasure and is always checking to make sure you’re enjoying things as much as he is. He loves making you come undone on his cock and fingers.

Sanemi was repulsed by the idea of going to you for relief but eventually came around. He’s mostly rough and dominant. He loves choking you on his cock, he loves seeing you all teary eyed and grasping at his thighs. There’s little to no foreplay with this feral man. He’s in it for his pleasure and if you enjoy it then that’s on you. He’s not afraid to be rough and he relishes in being able to take his stress out on your holes. To him, you’re not a partner so your pleasure doesn’t matter. But if he’s in a good mood he might be willing to help you.

Giyuu wasn’t super excited about it but he wasn’t entirely against it. He’s not experienced so you have a lot of teaching to do. He’s rather shy at first, but once he gets the hang of things he’ll be more assertive. His favorite thing is rutting into you slowly from behind. He loves the feel of your warm insides dragging along his cock. When he gets close, he becomes slightly bossy. He’s not afraid to be rough but he also cares about his partner’s pleasure.

Kyojuro was excited unlike any of the others. He’s very passionate and loves to learn anything you can and are willing to teach him. Unlike the others, Kyojuro is more interested in your pleasure. For him, being able to make you cum is what turns him on. After all, if he’s to ever find a wife to carry his children, he wants to know how to worship her body. He’s very enthusiastic and loves to learn, every technique and method you teach him he’ll practice on you until you’re nothing but putty in his hands. He loves making a mess of you and he only focuses on his own pleasure once you’ve been throughly prepared by having at least 3 prior orgasms.

[elysiansparadise]

In a world where everything seems superficial, they seek to get to the truth and know the essence behind everything.

Sagittarius Rising: The Wanderer

There is an air of mystery in their relaxed and contemplative appearance. Natives with a strong physique, gifted with the charisma and wisdom of Jupiter, these natives tend to look older when they are young and younger when older. A charming enigma, they can go from being hilarious, witty and jovial, to being rational, analytical and observant. An insatiable thirst to see beyond appearances, seemingly perfect systems and the masks people seem to wear. Strong will and mind, endowed with courage and bravery, no obstacle seems greater if they take a look at everything that forged them. They are people devoted to the beliefs they have and, no matter how open-minded, making them change their minds is not an easy task. Adventurous and curious when something catches their attention, rooted when making a decision. An inquisitive mind with idealistic overtones, a strong need for independence and a character with ambivert tendencies.

When we see Capricorn in their 2nd house, we can define that they firmly believe in the value of hard work and effort. From a very early age they learned that the best things in life or the most valuable things require work, sometimes giving up things that, although deep-rooted, only cause pain. They are willing to make sacrifices and work intensely long hours to achieve their goals. They do not usually take unnecessary risks and prefer safe and stable investments, both economic and time and energy. They have a strong ambition to achieve success and feel proud of themselves. They set high goals for themselves and are willing to work hard and persevere to achieve them. These natives are the clear representation of valuing quality over quantity, and can be considered picky by other people. Their self-esteem and self-worth are often linked to their achievements of all kinds, leading them to feel that sense of security when they have achieved their goals. They think long term and plan their future with vision and strategy. Their focus is on building a solid foundation that will provide them with lasting security and prosperity. It is likely that they grew up feeling that many things were missing in their lives, materially, emotionally or even spiritually.

Since they have Aquarius in the 3rd house, these natives are very open to new and different ideas, a trait that is often constantly associated with this rising. They enjoy discussing and debating theories and concepts on many diverse topics, from the simplest to the most profound. They have the quality of adapting well to different communication styles and are able to speak with people of diverse backgrounds and perspectives, ironically, they hardly feel that other people understand their way of thinking. Sometimes they may even feel judged for the way they communicate and think. They value mental independence and prefer to think for themselves rather than blindly following what others say. Their thinking is free and they do not easily conform to traditional opinions, nor are they afraid to question them. They have strong intellectual intuition and can reach conclusions quickly through intuitive perceptions. They are not afraid to question or debate regardless of the person they are dealing with. They are prone to feeling creative during short trips and can be inspired by things that to others may be very mundane or simple. Their rational nature helps them find ingenious solutions to complex problems. They have an insatiable intellectual curiosity and love to learn about a wide range of topics. There are chances of being only children, having some kind of distance from their siblings, or feeling very different from them. They can treat friends fraternally.

There is a lot of depth in the overlay of Pisces in the 4th house, as it is a part of the natives that others do not have a notion of so easily. In their childhood they could have been sensitive children, with that curiosity about the world around them, to understand how things worked, the people around them and, even at their young age, how life worked. There may have been that feeling of being lost, of not finding your place and a longing for that security that is associated with the word 'home'. For these natives, it is an important refuge for them, a place where they can retreat and recharge their energies, and I clarify, this does not necessarily have to be the one in which they were born, but rather the one they create. They dream of a quiet home, in which they can lower the volume of the outside chaos. Many of these natives need a serene space to maintain their emotional balance. They can find comfort in movies, books, music or even in the art they create, whatever it may be. This placement sometimes suggests someone who from an early age had to take care of someone else, whether it was a sibling, an older relative, or even their own parents. They are very perceptive people of the emotions of others, especially those that are deeper, those that others seek to hide. They can also be very intuitive with the emotional needs of their family members. They like to create a welcoming and hospitable environment in their home, as they enjoy making others feel welcome and comfortable in their space. They need a space where they can escape the demands of the outside world and find solace. They look for an atmosphere of peace and tranquillity at home.

With Aries in the 5th house, these natives tend to have a passionate approach to romances. Romance with them feels like an awakening, the awakening of excitement, intrigue, and a desire to explore new things with them. An emotion that drives you in your daily life, that motivates you and drives you to live the day as if it were your last. They greatly value their independence but once they know that you are what they want, they jump in with enthusiasm and can be very direct and honest in expressing their feelings. They like certainty and indecision in a person may seem unattractive to them. There are no grey tones, half-hearted feelings or unfinished ideas, they are looking for a lover as willing, daring and passionate as they are. Love makes them feel alive, fills them with enthusiasm and the desire to go after what they want. It is very likely that once they find love they will feel more ambitious, creative and confident. They value their independence and freedom in love, so they will not tolerate any type of relationship that restricts them or makes them feel limited or incapable of being themselves. They will always focus on motivating their partner and encouraging them to do what they are passionate about, they will never limit them in any way. These natives attract a lot of attention and stand out for their attractiveness, confidence, and sexy and independent aura. Many of them enjoy playful competitiveness. Their self-expression is direct and unfiltered. They are not afraid to be themselves and express their opinions and desires clearly and forcefully. If they decide to have children, they will be active, expressive, playful and very authentic. They can be parents who prioritise that their children have a strong sense of self-acceptance, that they are not afraid of anything and that they feel empowered.

Something that these natives will prioritise a lot no matter what their well-being is, from physical, to emotional and mental, which we attribute to Taurus in the 6th house. When they see that something is not positive in their lives, they do not hesitate to keep it away from them, because they are in constant search to keep what gives them pleasure and comfort close, distancing themselves from what sinks them and prevents them from growing. They can be very selective about what they make part of their day to day, and this includes the people they surround themselves with. They are people who will make part of their routine things that they find pleasant or comfortable, so they may have problems doing chores or things that they find boring or repetitive, postponing them and falling into procrastination tendencies. Taking care of their body and emotional tranquillity is something of great importance to them, so it is common for natives with this placement to exercise, do or have skincare routines, read constantly, meditate or practise similar activities. Many of them have this need to stay active, to be constantly doing things and even if they stay busy, they may have that feeling that they are not using properly most of their time or that they could be doing even more productive things. This placement tells us about the importance of comfort for them when choosing a job, without forgetting that it can also indicate earning a lot of money doing something that they really like and gives satisfaction. In their work they can enjoy not only a good reputation, but lasting bonds and courtesy with others. Taurus being here shows us natives who can be very devoted and constant with any task they have to do, investing a lot of time in it. A good work ethic is possible and a calm and relaxed way of working, as they dislike putting themselves under constant stress.

They highly value their independence, it is difficult to get their attention, and it is even more difficult to awaken in them that desire to have a long-term relationship, and it is not because of fear of commitment, but on the contrary, they think deeply and are very clear about what they want in a relationship and a partner for the long run. This rational and analytical, but above all precise approach is thanks to Gemini in the 7th house, as it means that Mercury is ruling this house. These natives do not have a long list of requirements that you have to meet to be their life partner, but they know perfectly well what things they do not want to deal with. Their discernment makes them realise this easily, and their blunt personality makes them not hesitate to make it clear. They want a partner who makes them look twice, who awakens their curiosity, interest and that has a magnetism that attracts them. They are fascinated by people who always have something to say, those with a clever and agile mind that fills them with excitement and makes them discover sides of themselves that they didn't even know they had. Someone that speaks their mind, that turns daily and boring into exciting and pleasant. They have a fear of deception and sudden distancing from their special person, so they will look for a partner who seeks to be present without the native asking for it. They are people who think a lot when it comes to being with another person. They want to find someone who will erase their doubts with actions and words, a person who will constantly let them know their intentions, feelings and thoughts, someone who will surprise them, not necessarily with seemingly big and outlandish things but by showing that they are not the same as the rest of the people that the natives to found throughout their lives. Good communication is something of utmost importance when thinking about a potential long-term partner, much more than other aspects even. For them it is crucial that this person can talk to them about anything regardless of the weight of the situation. Their future spouse is a person with great intelligence, good social skills and a person who uses his resources and knowledge astutely, someone who is difficult to catch off guard, open-minded and often a fascinating communicator. They will enjoy a marriage with adventures, fun and many learnings. Both the natives and their partners will feel intrigued and strongly attracted to each other, they will be intellectually stimulated and may even feel that they are both friends and partners.

One of the aspects of their personality that is less talked about but that is very determining in them is Cancer in the 8th house. These natives experience their emotions in a very intense and deep way. Their emotional world is rich and complex, and they can be very sensitive to the energies and emotions of others. Although they are protectors and caregivers, they can hide their own emotional vulnerability. Many of them, due to their experiences, are often afraid of showing their weaknesses and tend to build a protective shell around their emotions. They have an innate capacity for emotional healing, both for themselves and for others, transforming themselves and those around them internally. They can be excellent counselors, therapists, or emotional healers. They are firm protectors of what they consider family [whether biological or not], they will keep those they love safe and will not hesitate to attack to defend them if necessary. Their approach to sexuality is deeply tied to their emotions as it is crucial for them to feel a strong emotional connection to fully enjoy their sex life. They may have deep fears of abandonment or betrayal in their intimate relationships. They need to feel a deep emotional and spiritual connection with their partners and can be very protective and nurturing in their intimate relationships, being attentive to their partner's needs. They love the idea of ​​having a relationship where both can be vulnerable with the other and where both fiercely defend the other, giving themselves body and soul to the other.

These natives usually have Leo in the 9th house, which tells us that their pride lies in their intelligence, talents and abilities. They are excellent and fierce debaters who will always seek to speak their truth without filters and without trying to win the good side of others. Strongly tied to their convictions, they give great importance to justice and will always act according to what they consider optimal and most correct in certain situations. Since I mention their strong and fixed opinions, it is worth mentioning that it is difficult to change their minds. If the native is not grounded enough, they are likely to believe that they have the absolute truth and refuse to listen to other people. Their intelligence and ability to create is great and they can bring many interesting and successful projects to life. They will have a lot of happiness traveling or connecting with other cultures, as well as a source of ideas and the ability to create warm memories in places far from home. They may feel very different from people from whatever group they belong to, from school, or even from the stereotypes of their countries. They have a strong passion for knowledge and education, as they love to learn and may have a great interest in philosophical, spiritual or cultural topics. They can communicate their ideas passionately and effectively, motivating others to learn and explore. They have academic ambition and in some cases this placement leads them to seek high achievements in their education. 

With Virgo in the 10th house, these natives are seen as reliable and responsible people in their professional field, coupled with their serious and committed approach to their work, earning them the respect of their colleagues and superiors. Their integrity and work ethic are fundamental to them, and they do everything they can to avoid mistakes or failures. For them it is always crucial to charge and show that they act based on their principles, seeking to do things correctly. They stand out for being adaptable and able to adjust to the changing demands not only of the professional environment, but of what they experience throughout their lives. They are extremely dedicated to their work. They have a strong and admirable work ethic and are diligent and meticulous in everything they do. Always seeking to improve and achieve high quality standards. They can be very critical of themselves and others, especially those who boast of being superior in role or morals. They can be excellent in roles that involve analysis, administration, or any type of detailed work. They may choose jobs in which they maintain order, have control of a specific area or a specific group of people, that are related to analysis and research, or something that involves supporting or helping others. They do not seek recognition or glory, but are satisfied with doing their job well. They are not interested in pleasing others or meeting other people's expectations, rather they constantly strive to meet the expectations of a single person, themselves.

Natives with Libra in the 11th house are selective with friends, thinking a lot before giving that title to someone; Despite their initial wariness, they remain cordial enough. As friends these natives can be very supportive and caring, giving not only sympathy and affection, but also bringing realism to the lives of their friends and colleagues. This placement gives them the tendency to be popular and/or recognized either in their environment or on the internet. They value their friendships very much and will always focus on them being fair relationships in which they get the same as they give to others. They can create very strong ties with friends and vice versa, in some cases it can be expressed in friends being very attached to the native and relying on them, although there may be a risk of dependence on either party. They are very good at working as a team and can count on diplomacy. They are the kind of people who seek social justice, can defend others from injustice and prevent them from getting hurt. They hate injustice and discrimination, because they believe in equality regardless of gender, age, race or beliefs. They are skilled at mediating and resolving conflicts within their social groups. Their natural diplomacy allows them to find fair and balanced solutions to disagreements. They have the ability to positively influence the groups to which they belong. Their ability to see both sides of a situation allows them to provide balanced and fair perspectives. This house is also related to earnings through their work, with Venus ruling this house we can also determine that they can have many economic benefits in a job that they genuinely like.

What lies within you, love? How does Scorpio in the 12th house play a role? When someone sees you they immediately perceive your strength, they sense your impetus and courage, many even tremble at the power that you naturally emanate, but only those who dare to look directly into your intense and sharp gaze, realize the pain that has forged your shell and attitude. You are secretive with many aspects of your life, you deeply bury the gray and overwhelming tints that life has poured on you. You don't let anyone know for fear that it will be used against you. You have learned to watch you back, that trust is not something that is given to just anyone. From betrayals, disappointments, people's cruelty and prejudices... you have been through a lot and yet you remain firm, because you know that you yourself are your most faithful companion and your strength. Fear of betrayal, revealing too much of yourself and being judged or ignored, fear of loving someone who doesn't love you with the same depth. You have a fascinating mind, a fervent desire to get to the bottom of things, and the ambition that allows you to achieve it. It is difficult to hide things from you, because your keen intuition accompanied by your need to discover the truth are your most lethal weapon. You feel things deeply, many times more than you would like, and for you there is no middle ground. You are decisive and do not hesitate, things may be black or white, yes or no, all or nothing… Unlike other people, you find refuge in the spaces where you are on your own. At the end of the day it is better than the masked crowds, those who smile in front of you and conspire behind your back. You have the ability to sense when someone is not what they seem, you can detect people who have shady intentions for miles, a gift that experience has given you. All of these traits protect your noble and loyal heart, the one that makes you capable of completely surrendering to something or someone that makes you feel safe and comfortable. It's never too much for you when it comes to someone you love or something you're passionate about.

[aemondsbabe]

Duty & Sacrifice | Claimant Pt 2

summary: your wedding to jace will happen whether you and aemond like it or not; even still, you know where you truly belong

pairing: dark!brother!aemond x sister!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, dark aemond, threats against jace, jace slander do not come at me you were warned, blood purest aemond like he's voldemort coded idk he loves that valyrian o neg, breeding kink, fingering, unprotected sex, piv sex, biting, brief hand on neck, possessive aemond, obsessive aemond, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 3.7k

a/n: big thank you to @rabbit-hearted for sending a request for more dark!aemond! i hope you enjoy!! dark aemond was a bit toned down in this one but he (and the reader) will be going unhinged psycho in part 3 uwu

gif creds to @aemondtargaryensource

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🔪read part 1 here!

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“Oh, you look absolutely beautiful, Princess,” your lady’s maid coos over your shoulder while she finishes tying the laces at the back of your gown, eliciting a chorus of echoing hums and titters of agreement from the other women fluttering about your chambers. 

“Thank you, Kella,” you murmur, meeting her gaze in the mirror, your lips stretched into a thin, tight smile. Even in your periphery, the sight of the ivory dress makes your stomach turn and twist into barbarous knots and you quickly glance away. You try to ignore the pang of guilt that eats at your heart as you keep your eyes trained on the shelves beside the mirror, silently reciting the name of each book stacked on them over and over again, anything to keep your mind occupied. 

It only halfway works, just as it had every time before – every other time you stood in this exact same spot as the tailor measured and fitted your dress, as you discussed hairstyles with your maids, as you chose jewelry with your mother. Helaena had spent weeks, hours upon hours, sewing bead after bead into the alabaster fabric, creating intricate patterns of florals giving way to flames, and you could hardly bring yourself to look at it. 

If I don’t look, it’s not real. If I don’t look, it’s not real, the words, foolish as they were, echoed in your mind for the millionth time as your maids added final touches to your outfit – sliding your feet into shoes and clasping on various ornate jewels. 

“Should we finish the hair first or get the cloak on first?” You hear one of your lady’s maids ask another, somewhere off to the side. 

“Mm, I think the cloak,” another one answers; you can hear the doors of your wardrobe being pulled open, “Her tiara may get snagged otherwise.”

Glimmers of red from the small garnet gemstones decorating your gown create bloody splotches in your periphery as morning sunlight filters through your windows; your mind begins to wander again despite your best efforts and crimson quickly gives way to hues of sapphire. Absent-mindedly, you dig your nails into your cuticles as you recall that night. The events play out behind your eyes like they have time and time again in the weeks between then and now – the pin-pricked chill you’d felt from his gaze, the way his whispered promises made your heart ache with a confusing whirlwind of longing and dread, the way his hands had felt against your skin. The sound of your blood pumping wildly in your veins drowns out any other noise as his voice echoes in your head. 

“Prove your devotion to me, my Strong girl,” he had commanded, directing your attention to the hilt of his dagger. And you had, the memories of it make you shiver even now. 

You had.

But it didn’t matter because here you are, clad in an ivory gown that may as well be a death shroud for all the joy it brings you.

“Princess?” A little gasp falls from your lips as you’re hoisted out of your reverie and your eyes finally focus on Kella standing before you, matching cloak in hand. 

“My apologies,” you say, managing a little chuckle, “I’m not sure where my head was at.” 

“No trouble, Princess,” Kella smiles, waving a hand dismissively, “I’m sure you’re eager to get the day started, marrying a prince and all.”

“Eager, yes,” you sigh, forced smile falling flat the second she looks away. The back of your throat tightens when you catch sight of yourself in the mirror and, for the umpteenth time today, you try desperately to ignore the urge to run – to sprint all the way to the Dragonpit, mount Silverwing, and go. Instead, you swallow down the sick feeling in your gut and compel yourself to be still as Kella drapes the cloak over your shoulders, the red silk underlining enveloping you in a sanguine veil. 

Just as she’s about to fasten it to the little ties at the shoulders of your gown, the doors to your chambers bang open, causing both of you to jump as your heads whip toward the sound of the noise. 

“Prince Aemond,” Kella says breathlessly, draping the cloak over an arm and curtsying politely. 

“Get out,” he murmurs lowly, violet eye not moving from yours as he stands at the doorway, arms tucked behind his back, “I wish to have a moment alone with my sister.” Your heart hammers so wildly that you’re amazed the sound of it doesn’t echo off the walls – that it doesn’t burst in your chest. 

You don’t miss the uncertain glances your maids give one another, though they ultimately nod their heads. A small chorus of, “Yes, your highness,” rises around you as they scurry from the room; Kella quickly drapes your cloak over the back of your vanity chair before leaving as well, the doors to your chambers closing behind her. 

Aemond quickly locks them, the barest hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his lips for a precious second as he does so, before turning to you. Your brows furrow as nervousness builds within you, nails digging into your cuticles as you desperately study the neutral expression on his face as he stalks toward you. 

“Don’t you look breathtaking, sweet sister,” his eye sweeps over your form as he speaks and you feel as if every ounce of air is pressed from your lungs when he gently grasps at your chin, angling your face up toward his when he comes to a stop before you. 

“How did you get in here?” You question, hating how feeble your voice sounds, how your heart slows the second he touches you. Your question is a valid one, though – your mother had taken great caution in the weeks following the night of your betrothal feast to keep you and your brother as separated as possible. 

He chuckles as he tilts your face to the side, exposing your neck. “Someone may have delivered an anonymous tip to Cole informing him of a supposed smallfolk revolt brewing in Flea Bottom,” you don’t miss the twitch of a victorious smile on his lips, “Of course, the Gold Cloaks had to attend to it – we wouldn’t want anything ruining such a… joyous day. Once they were gone, it was easy enough to slip from the Sept and make my way back here.”

“You’ve been planning,” his eye stays fixed on the ruby necklace clasped around your neck as you speak, though he hums in acknowledgement at your words. After another few seconds of heavy silence, you cannot help but huff and jerk your chin from his careful grip, “Did you come here to merely ogle at me or do you need something?”

“Mm,” he hums, narrowing his eye for just the barest of seconds, “There is something I need indeed, Strong girl.”

“Don’t call me that!” You snap, the little huff of laughter he gives only makes you more agitated. He turns his back to you and stalks over to your vanity; it’s only then that you see he’s holding a small box behind his back, “What is that?”

“Only a little wedding present,” Aemond drawls, violet eye meeting yours in the mirror as he runs his fingers over the soft ivory silk of your cloak; his nose twitches in disgust, the most subtle of movements that you’re sure only you are able to spot. 

“Can… can I see it?”

Another twitch of his lips, a little pulling at the corners, just enough for you to know he’s satisfied about something, makes your heart squeeze in your chest. Whatever game he’s playing at, whatever imaginary battle he’s thought up in his mind, he’s winning. 

Am I even fighting back? Do I want to?

Silently, he makes his way back over to you, each heavy step a nail in your proverbial coffin. He’s standing before you again, long hair spilling over the shoulders of his tunic like a pearlescent waterfall, held back from his face by two thin braids that join in the back. 

Finally, he opens the box, carefully sliding the lid off. Your lips part as you stare down at the contents, eyes as wide as the moon as it feels like all the air has been sucked from the room. 

“I had it made by the finest craftsman in the city,” he murmurs, eye gleaming with pride at your stunned reaction, “Do you like it, little one?”

“I… Aemond, I…,” you stammer, at a loss for words as you look over the necklace resting on a bed of soft cloth. Made from a breathtaking assortment of pearls, the attention to detail is immaculate; each milky white stone is threaded onto a fine silver chain, all leading to a gleaming deep blue sapphire in the center, framed by the figure of a small silver dragon. “I-It’s gorgeous, brother, I… thank you.”

“You deserve only the best,” he purrs, watching closely as you reach up and carefully run your fingers over the glittering stones, “Shall I put it on you?”

“I already have a neck –” You start, only for a loud gasp to rip itself from your throat as Aemond tears the ruby necklace from you, the delicate gold chains easily snapping and sending dozens of tiny rosy stones clattering to the floor. All you can do is gape at him, one hand grazing against the place on your neck where the necklace once sat. 

Meanwhile, your brother’s violet eye merely follows a few of the stones as they skid across the stone floors. “Pity,” he tuts, stalking around you like a lion would its prey before stopping behind you and meeting your gaze in the mirror. 

“Do you have any idea who that necklace bel–”

“I don’t give a shit about who it belonged to,” he hisses, reaching over your shoulder and grabbing your jaw, forcing your head to turn back enough to meet his heated stare, “All that matters is that you belong to me, not some sniveling fucking bastard who shall only bring you ruin.”

He stares at you for a second more as if trying to drive the point somehow further into your heart before finally releasing your chin, smirking at the little shiver that runs down your spine when he skims his fingers over your neck. 

Your eyes flutter shut as he delicately sweeps the hair away from the back of your neck before pressing a soft kiss there, only to trail more down the crook of your neck and shoulder; time seems to slow for a moment while you savor the feel of his lips against your skin and your chest tightens when he groans. 

He huffs when he straightens back up, like being apart from you, even if only by a few scant inches, is painful – a feeling you know all too well. Opening your eyes, you watch as he carefully clasps the sapphire necklace around your neck. The larger middle stone sits perfectly at the base of your neck, the rich blue hue sparkles beautifully against your skin. 

“Flawless,” he says lowly, gently kissing just below your ear before trailing his eye up to the floor-length mirror the two of you stand before, hands resting on your waist, “We look perfect together, don’t we, little one?”

Automatically, you nod your head, unable to separate your gaze from the mirror. He’s right, he always is. The two of you simply fit together – perfect compliments of the other. 

He smiles lazily over your shoulder and pulls you closer against him, relishing in the small gasp that leaves your lips as his length presses against you, already half-hard and wanting. “Yes, you and I were meant to be together,” he breathes, slowly pulling up the skirts of your gown, “You may be marrying that traitorous little cunt, but you’ll belong to me soon enough, sweet sister.”

Your brows furrow at that and you start to question him, ask what exactly he means, but before you can utter a word, a feeble, stuttering moan is wrenched from your lips instead. Aemond holds you steady, keeping one hand firmly around your waist, as the other fits itself between your thighs; you’re helpless to do much else than watch yourself fall apart in the mirror as his lithe fingers slip through your already drenched center.

A pleased hum reverberates against the side of your jaw as he presses soft kisses against your neck, ravenous eye glued to your chest as it rises and falls with sharp pants, your breasts heaving beneath the bodice of your wedding dress.

“Promise me you won’t let him touch you,” your brother growls, swirling his fingers around your already aching pearl with practiced ease, “Swear to me that I am the only one who will ever claim you, sweet girl.”

“A-Aemond, I…,” you gasp, already having to fight through the fog in your mind to remain upright, much less speak, “Brother, please!”

“Swear it!” He snarls, biting harshly at your shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark. 

“I promise, I promise!” You quickly concede, the truth willingly spilling from you. You did not want anyone else, you never had – your gaze had been firmly set on Aemond for as long as you could remember. Your heart had soared with hope when Aegon and Helaena’s betrothal was announced, only for those hopes to be squashed when you were all but promised to Jace not too long after Aemond’s eye had been taken – doomed to a marriage built on regrets. 

Your older brother had felt the same from an earlier age still, always doting on you, even as a child. He loves Helaena, yes, but his heart had only been yours. His screams still echo in your mind – the only time he’d ever raised his voice at your mother, when he’d stormed into her chambers as soon as Aegon had taunted him with news of the raven from Driftmark. 

But it was the same each time, excuses of repairing relations and making amends, commands for you and Aemond both to grow up – to make sacrifices for the realm. 

Was I ever more than a lamb raised for slaughter? That question has kept you up for more hours than you care to admit. Now, watching in the mirror as a man who is not your betrothed brings you to heel on the morning of a day you have mourned for years, the dam inside you finally bursts – you are tired of bowing to duty. 

“Aemond, please!” You gasp, nearly crying as the fog in your mind finally lifts, “Please, take me, please!”

He pauses at that, the fingers on your aching bud stopping as his eye flicks up to yours. His eye is studying, calculating while he looks over you — there is a terrible relief in being finally, truly seen. “Is that what you wish?” He hums, chuckling when you pant as his fingers circle your dripping entrance, “To be filled with me, little one?”

You’re nodding before he’s even finished the question, desperate whines spilling from you as he slips his hand from between your legs, only long enough to loosen the ties at the front of his trousers.

“I’ll breed this sweet cunt,” he grunts, the arm around your waist moving to hook securely around your chest while the other grabs at his length, positioning it at your entrance as you hold your skirts out of the way in a trembling grasp, “Give you a pure Valyrian babe, just as you deserve.”

All of the air is knocked from your lungs as he pushes into you, spearing you on his cock in one swift motion. Your fingers abandon your skirts to instead claw helplessly at the arm draped over your chest, knees nearly buckling as Aemond pauses long enough for you to adjust. 

“Gods!” You whimper as he sets a punishing pace from the outset, though the harsh thrusts feel like paradise after being deprived of his mere presence for so long. Your head droops forward as he snakes a hand around your hip to begin rubbing at your pearl yet again, lucid enough to know that the two of you are operating on borrowed time. 

“You have always been mine, all of you,” he gasps, watching as your bodies writhe together in the mirror. After a moment, he growls and grabs at your neck, forcing your head up until your eyes meet his. “That’s it, sweet girl,” he praises, leaning forward to kiss and nip at your neck and shoulder, “You’re mine, you’re mine…”

You nod as best you can as he chants the words again and again like a prayer, pushing his length in and out of you in time with each one, until your mind is nothing but a cacophony of mine, mine, mine. 

“I-I’m, Gods, I’m – Aemond!” You all but sob, the knot in your stomach that had been pitifully winding itself for weeks finally about to unravel as your cunt tightens around him, his grunts and growls in response only pushing you further to the end. 

“Do it,” he commands, redoubling his efforts on your bud, his other hand scrambling frantically to grasp at your stomach, “Let go and I’ll breed you, I’ll give you a babe, our babe, little one. Let go for me, let go.”

His muttered command sends shivers down your spine and you’re powerless to do much else other than obey and your eyes squeeze shut and your lips part as a harsh, shuddering cry is knocked out of you; fire seems to ignite every cell within you as you pulse around his length. Your knees buckle when your high washes over you, Aemond’s grip around your waist the only thing keeping you upright. 

“Good girl, good girl,” he murmurs, the sound of his voice just barely cutting through the rush of blood in your ears. A handful of thrusts later and he stills against you, growling and squeezing you to within an inch of your life as he fills you, cock twitching. 

You both still for a moment, harsh pants filling your chambers as you catch your breath. You whine when Aemond finally pulls his softening length from you, though he shushes you sweetly before leading you to your vanity chair and sitting you down. 

“I don’t want to marry him,” you whisper suddenly, sniffling softly as tears sting the back of your eyes, “I don’t w-want to, Aemond, I –”

“Shh, shh,” he says softly, gently cupping your cheek and angling your face up toward his, “There’s nothing we can do to change today, as much as it pains me. Were it possible, I would gut him in the Sept and stake my claim to you then and there, Gods be damned, I –” 

He pauses, cutting himself off with a harsh sigh, “I will have you, I swear it. I will not fail again.” 

Were it any other time, the dark shadow that lingers behind his words would give you pause, would frighten you as they have before. 

Now, though, they settle over you like a warm blanket – there is a safety in this fear. Aemond, for all his faults, is nothing if not determined. 

Whatever surety had settled within you only an hour before is swiftly and sharply pushed from your mind as you exit the carriage and climb the many steps up to the doors of the Great Sept of Baelor, unsteady even with Aegon at your side. 

By the grace of the Gods, Aemond had managed to slip from your chambers, and supposedly from the Red Keep, unseen by all except your lady’s maids, and they had all been sworn to secrecy long ago. Once he had gone, they filed back in and had blessedly made no mention of the intrusion as they bustled about you yet again – quickly braiding your hair through the prongs of your tiara and securing your cloak to your shoulders. 

They knew better than to ask about the sapphire clasped around your neck, or about the mess of rubies on the floor.

Your eldest brother, however, had not been so forgiving; his dark eyes had narrowed the moment you were seated together in the carriage. “Today, sister? Really?” He had teased, a dangerous spark in his eyes.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you had grumbled, clenching your legs together as you sat. 

“Hm,” he hummed, chuckling softly, “Maybe I’ll soon be mother’s favorite after all.”

“We stand here in the sight of Gods and men to witness the union of man and wife,” the septon’s booming voice fills the Sept as you stand together with Jacaerys, your hands in his, “One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.”

You try your hardest to keep your eyes trained to his, to keep your lips crooked into a smile, but all you can focus on is the two stares practically searing your flesh. 

Alicent’s face swam in your vision, the way her cheeks had paled when she had caught sight of the jewelry clasped around your neck, at the guilty look in your eyes. You can feel hers boring into you now and you have no doubt her jaw is clenched, her fingers bloodied and raw. 

The other stare makes your skin prickle, much as it did on the night of your betrothal feast. You keep inwardly scolding yourself, again and again, as your eyes lock with Aemond’s every few seconds as he stands at the base of the steps to your side. 

“In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity,” the septon continues, gesturing to you and Jace, “Look upon one another and say the words.”

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger,” you recite together, all the while you desperately try to ignore the hollow, aching pit slowly opening itself in the very center of your chest.

“I am hers and she is mine,” Jace murmurs, dark gaze fixed solely on yours as he squeezes your hands, a terrible longing in his stare, “From this day, until the end of my days.”

“I am his and he is mine,” you say, each word feeling like a knife being twisted in your gut, “From this day until the end of my days.”

The septon gestures once more for the two of you to step closer together; it takes all of your restraint not to gasp when you feel a rivulet of Aemond’s spend leak down your thigh as you do. 

“With this kiss, I pledge my love,” Jace says softly. His warm hands cup your cheeks before he leans in but when your lips touch, all you see is sapphire.

thank you for taking the time to read! hope you enjoyed! :)

consider adding yourself to my tag list or check out my works on ao3!

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Wound patching headcanons with Adam, Lucifer, alastor, and vox? As in, patching their wounds? Getting all close and personal, taking care of them, kissing it better. You know, the good stuff 🫣🫣🤭

Adam

When he came back from hell, injured and bloodied, all thoughts left your mind; all you could think about was saving him.

Crying as you stitched up his stab wounds and hoped that Lute got him back home in enough time that he would live another day.

You were diligent and careful with every inch of his body as you worried that the man you loved would never return to you.

As he woke up, you felt immediate relief and held him close to you for days straight till he was strong enough again.

You let him have it once he was strong enough to handle physical activities. Your voice carried through the entirety of the angelic tower.

Once your rant about taking care of himself and the wrongness of extermination was over, he was happy to open his arms up for you.

Even though you tried hard to continue being mad, it was impossible not to climb into bed with him and hold him even longer.

Lucifer

When he had fallen, you also fell just inches behind him; you knew his wounds would far surpass yours. Where you willingly chose to fall with him, he was cast out.

Once safe and sheltered from most of the elements, you took tender care of his broken wings and tore up the body.

As you stitched him up and wrapped up deeper wounds, you sat above him, crying, hoping he would pull through this.

As he woke from his stooper, he caressed your face gently as you held his hand there, pouring all your emotions out to him.

He reprimanded you for falling with him but, in the same breath, mentioned how happy he was to have someone so devoted by his side.

As he healed, you two built up hell and gave those who had received free will a purpose.

Even though he sometimes blamed himself, he was so happy to have you beside him, fixing hell up one step at a time.

Alastor

He was picky about who got to see him so vulnerable and weak; he was not about to let others know that he could be harmed in such a manner.

When you showed up outside the radio tower, panicking after watching him disappear after a fatal blow. He couldn't deny the happiness he felt in his fleeting moments.

As you laid him down and tore open his suit, you made quick work of the large wound across his chest that Adam gave him.

You were stoic and focused on ensuring that he emerged from this alive with only a scar to tell the tale.

Once you had finished and he was doing better health-wise, you finally snapped and broke down in front of him, explaining your worries and fears.

He gently pulled you into a hug, resting his head atop yours, reminding you that he was alive and reminding himself he would be a goner without you.

When you two arrived back at the hotel, relief was felt through most of the others; however, you were happy that Alastor finally let down his walls with someone, especially since that someone was you.

Vox

Vox had suffered another beating from Alastor, something you were far more used to than you cared to admit.

He never got hurt enough that it required intense medical attention, but he did get his pride slapped around most of the time.

You sat delicately on his lap while he held your waist so you could gently fix up his screen

You were never a techy person, but you learned over the years how to replace his wiring and screens when things got bad like this.

Once he was all patched up, you sighed and rested your head on his shoulder, allowing the day's weight to catch up with you.

Worrying that you were now growing tired of him, Vox asked what was so wrong, only for you to pour out your heart and concerns he may get really hurt one of these times.

Feeling your genuine confession, he smiled softly and kissed you, reminding you that he fights for you to be safe and work free in his tower, but he would make an effort to come home scratched up less often.

[ominous-horse-noises]

im ab to be annoying ab dimension20 fhjy but im genuinely loving the character arcs for the bad kids this season?

kristen going from self-annihilatingly stupid to trying to build a genuine bridge with the man who not only wielded the religion that traumatised her (bobby dawn), but also was trying to ruin her life, just bc she thought a grieving father ought to be comforted in some way? her genuine distress at being unable to revivify buddy even though the two had only had negative interactions, or her biting her tongue in front of her parents so she could better look after her little siblings? grappling with the fact that she still, on some level, expected practising religion to be easy and convenient for her as a holdover from an entire childhood spent being a Chosen One, and finally putting her nose to the grindstone and committing to working her ass off for a deity that couldn't even benefit her for a hot minute? making an effort to be cordial with tracker's new gf and letting go of that codependency? the kristen applebees from ep20 would NOT do all the same stupid shit as ep1 and i love that.

fabian being humbled by the narrative again and again has been an absolute treat for his character. the whole ivy/mazey situation was great: freshman/sophomore year fabian would've gone for ivy no sweat, i mean her character seemed pretty similar to pre-redemption aelwyn and he had a huge crush on her then. but this time, when he realised he'd hurt a genuinely great person, and intentionally swallowed his pride to make it up to mazey, even though it required him being 'uncool' with the whole twister thing. his general arc of learning that earnestness and humility doesn't make him less of a man felt like a natural extension of fabian defining his own version of masculinity- sure, a 'maximum legend', but also someone deeply involved in the arts, and someone who is less afraid of saying sorry and being vulnerable in front of someone he likes

fig. fig fig fig. what a woman. its been absolutely fascinating watching build her sense of identity over these three seasons. at her core, fig is a character that loves so deeply. in freshman, she was terrified of the depth of her own devotion, so she tried to distance herself emotionally from everyone. in sophomore, she built herself around that love for other people. in junior year, fig's arc has been learning she can do both: that she's defined by her love for others, but not solely by it. ik emily wanted to retire the character before this season but i think fig's paladin arc was the best capstone to her journey possible.

gorgug's arc has been about establishing clear boundaries for himself and i love it. im aware there's been some Discourse ab the mango soda scene but to me that was pretty easily chalked up to teenage insecurity. a big part of gorgug's arc was trying to believe in himself when everyone around him told him he was too dumb to follow his passion- imagine struggling in an area that you have no natural aptitude for, and someone comes along and also trounces you in the one area you thought you were the best in. i'd be petty and reactive too (gorgug follows up calling her a freak with the fact that she beat the shit out of him, so its clearly him just still smarting from a bruised ego and not actual malice). in general, i've really like gorgug learning to put his foot down and say enough is enough without completely losing his gentleness.

adaine hasnt had an obvious arc, but considering she addressed most of her baggage in the first two seasons, i'm not surprised. i would've liked to see the other bad kids address her 'teenage adult' behaviour, but her self-awareness about it and relying on fabian to pull in clutch for the oracool stuff still felt like she'd learned to rely on her friends at least + her reaching out to aelwyn and the two of them healing from their parents together has been rewarding it its own right.

riz is perfect and has learned nothing. his neuroticism is part of his natural swag

[animeficsworld]

First Argument

Gojo Satoru x Reader

Summary: Two people in love have their first argument, and how they can work through it to strengthen their bond.

Relationships are complex, especially a relationship with Gojo Satoru, both of you are dynamic entities that require constant effort and communication in order to thrive. 

Even in the most loving and devoted partnerships, disagreements and arguments are inevitable as both individuals navigate through their differences. 

The first argument in a relationship can be a key moment, as it often reveals underlying tensions and communication styles between the two individuals. 

You and Satoru are a couple who have been together for a few months and have yet to experience any major conflicts. 

However, one evening, a disagreement arises over a minor issue, leading to a heated exchange of words between you two. You felt hurt by Satoru's lack of communication, while he felt misunderstood by your reaction.

All this over some unwashed dishes.

"Darling, did you forget to do the dishes again?" he asked, a hint of frustration in his voice.

His wife, who had been busy preparing dinner, turned to him with a smile. "Oh, I'm sorry, love. I got caught up in making your favourite meal and lost track of time." you tried to explain.

Satoru sighed, feeling a twinge of annoyance. "I understand, but it's becoming a bit of a habit, don't you think? I just wish you would remember to clean up after yourself."

His wife's smile faded slightly, your own frustration bubbling to the surface. "I do plenty around here, too, you know. It's not just my responsibility to do the dishes. Last time I checked, you are just as capable."

Satoru raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eye. "Oh, really? And here I thought you enjoyed my impeccable dishwashing skills."

You couldn't help but laugh at his teasing tone, the tension between them dissolving. "Fine, you win this round. But don't think I'll let you off the hook that easily."

And so, with a shared chuckle and a loving embrace, the couple resolved their first argument over some unwashed dishes. 

In the grand scheme of things, it was a minor conflict, a blip in their otherwise balanced marriage. 

But it served as a reminder that even the strongest relationships require communication and compromise. 

And so, you continued to navigate the ups and downs of married life, knowing that love would always prevail.

[sanakimohara]

“BRING ME A DREAM” B. C.

{ MDNI }

++++++

Chan wasn't sure what compelled him to wake up in the middle of the night with a cold sweat settling on his bare skin and his head spinning with worry.

Pleasant would be the last word he'd use to categorize the disruption.

It took him several minutes, deep breaths, and a gentle neck roll to compose himself before he could settle his body down next to your soundly sleeping one.

Chan was surprised you hadn't stirred awake from his sudden movements but was grateful your peaceful sleep hadn't been disturbed due to whatever had bothered him.

"Shit," he whispered hoarsely, groaning quietly as his head and upper neck throbbed with a dull pain. He was used to discomfort in the area but couldn't pinpoint why it was occurring since he'd been asleep in a comfortable position for most of the night.

With a heavy exhale and another tired groan, Chan sat up in bed, careful not to shift the covers too much to avoid waking you, and when he was sure you were undisturbed, he hung his head to try and release the tension there.

The pain just seemed to grow. Chan bit back a mirage of curses as tiny pricks of tension morphed into shallow aches in his upper back. He breathed deeply, brows furrowing in frustration as his body began to combat what was bothering him, remaining like that for some time before he felt the bed shift and your soft hands reaching out to touch his back.

Chan instinctively flinched, grunting as your fingertips trailed to his shoulders and rubbed tight circles in the aching muscles. "Thank you, baby.." he breathed in contentment, visibly relaxing his body into yours that'd unfurled from the heavy covers on his bed.

You smiled sleepily, fully sitting up on your knees behind him as his head lulled back onto your shoulder. "No need to thank me, Channie…is it your neck again?" you ask him quietly, doing your best to help without hurting him further.

Your gentle hands and soft voice bring Chan a sense of peace, and he mumbles, "Yes," as his eyes slide shut while he fully welcomes you, massaging the affected spot. "Mmm," you hum in understanding, taking great care in helping him, even while half asleep, but that didn't matter to you when it came to aiding him.

He does so much for you; he'd do everything for you if he could, and despite already being burdened with the life of an idol -leader, producer, and all-around artist- he still needed a helping hand himself.

Even if he refused help most of the time.

Moments like this, being able to return the same devotion to Chan and witnessing firsthand how your dedication to him could be shown in the smallest of gestures, really did make your heart feel full.

Chan was simply glad you were his; he took pride in taking care of you, but he wasn't sure how to comprehend it whenever you'd return the favor. He was used to being in a caretaker position, but you always made it clear to him that his well-being is also your first priority.

There's no in-between.

No hesitation & not a single complaint from you.

Ever.

Deep down, he admired and loved you even more for that. So, when you'd taken the time to massage and work the pain out of his body at 3 in the morning with the sweetest smile, he was already formulating a reward for you.

It's the least he could do; even if you didn't expect anything in return, Chan couldn't help but appreciate your efforts.

His eyes peered at you, watching your delicate features scrunch up slightly in concentration as you kneaded your small hands into his shoulders, paying particular attention to each area that bothered him the most. You had done this for him before -granted, you'd also enlisted the help of a massage gun at the time- and managed to memorize the points in his upper body that required particular focus.

Chan observed you intently, wincing only once or twice when you had to work out a sore part with some force, but ultimately, you completed your task with no griping from him.

After ten minutes, you stopped putting pressure on his body and checked to see if he felt any better with a hopeful smile on your face. "Did that help?" You ask sweetly, kissing his shoulder blade lightly and letting your head settle into the crook of his neck. Chan hummed. The tension he'd felt earlier had nearly gone after your hard work, and his mind was no longer hyper-focused on relieving the pain.

"Yes, I feel much better, baby girl. Thank you.." he mumbled, dark eyes shifting to stare at your pleased expression and his lips curling into a charming smile as you blinked slowly to hide your tiredness.

"I'm glad I could help…" your hands drag down from his shoulders to travel the expanse of his back, grazing every dip of muscle he possessed before you lazily wrapped your arms around his toned torso. Chan shivered under your warm fingertips, his skin still cool from the cold sweat he'd endured during his sleep, and you flashed him a worried look as his large body reacted to your touch.

"Am…am I hurting you?" concern is evident in your voice, and you quickly remove the light weight of your body off of his. Chan shakes his head, laughing softly at your panicked state as he reaches behind to pull you back to him. "You could never hurt me, princess. I'm fine," he reassures you, eyes steady on your doe-like stare before trailing down to your plush lips that were parting to say something.

"Are you sure, Channie? If you're still not feeling alright, I can- mhmm!"

Your babbling was silenced the instant Chan pressed his lips to yours, drowning out all your worries with his tongue sliding against yours and his hands finding their respective places around your throat and lower back.

His touch burned right through the thin fabric of his shirt that you wore to bed, the heat bounding straight to your core and causing a chorus of soft moans to slip from you as he fully turned his body towards you. Chan swallowed every sound you made, chasing your lips with a particular urgency you could only compare to devotion, and your mind began to melt as he pressed for another hungry kiss after the next.

His hands traveled all over you, following every edge and curve you had to offer him, and your face heated up with every firm grope he gifted you. Chan was usually never this reactive or desperate for you. It was always the other way around, you pining for him and praying he'd let you touch and taste him as much as your little heart desired…

Now…it felt as if Chan was begging you to let him have that same privilege, and your mind was going into a lustful mush from the thought.

He pulled away from the kiss, letting you pant for air as he went to work on marking up your unblemished neck. Your body instinctively pressed closer to his, hands flying to tangle in his hair and gently tug on the soft strands as he nipped at your sweet spot.

"A-Ahm …Channie…" you yelped quietly as he abused the sensitive area, smirking against your skin while your head lulled to the side to give him better access. You pushed on his chest lightly, trying your best not to let him cloud your mind with desire when you both needed a good night's rest, but he carefully slapped your hand away from stopping him.

Chan lifted his head from your neck, eyes half-lidded as he took in the mixture of emotions flooding yours, and even then, he thought you looked purely angelic.

You could be so anxious to please and willing to take care of him while fighting the urge to let him pleasure you.

An anomaly in itself, really.

He found it cute and endearing.

"We have to get up…early," you try to reason with him, eyes lowering as you back away to lay back down, but Chan was one step ahead of you. He leaned forward, capturing your lips in another kiss to trap you underneath him and prevent you from inching further away.

You relaxed immediately, legs spreading wide open for him to lie between as he held himself up with both arms placed on either side of your head. He was careful not to crush you, opting to steal your breath away with heavy kisses and rolling his hips down against your core.

A whine tumbled from your mouth as he created a dizzying friction between your cunt and his hardening cock.

God, you were so glad he slept naked. It made it so much easier and enticing to let him fuck you.

Chan bit back a moan feeling how wet you were already, eyes narrowing down at the smug smirk on your swollen lips, and he had half a mind to make it disappear and replace it with the cock drunk smile he knew you'd never fail to show him.

However, Chan decided to bide his time and only ground against your greedy cunt harder until you were blushing and squirming underneath for more.

"Daddy…please.." you whimper as the heat in your walls builds to new heights, clenching around nothing and growing slicker from the promise of him stretching you out. Your eyes rolled slightly from the thought, and he chuckled at how desperate you were, "Please, what, princess?" He spoke to you softly, eyes trained on yours with a familiar condescending aura, and you had to look away to keep from blushing any harder.

"Please….fuck me…p-please." You swallow thickly and roll your hips to meet his to convince him your plea wasn't unreasonable, but Chan simply smiled down at you before placing a trail of open-mouthed kisses down your trembling body.

You whined and whimpered as the fleeting pass of his plump lips lowered to your waist, his hands pushed the hem of his shirt up to reveal your lower half, and the cold air hitting your skin paired with his breath fanning over your pelvis drove you insane.

Chan halted his movements, peering up to catch the sight of you biting back another longing plead and raising your hands to cover your flushed face.

You were on edge and feeling vulnerable under his gaze.

Chan took in all the shameful little noises and faces you were trying so hard to hide with a coy smirk, hands now occupied with tenderly groping the underside of your plush thighs, and his head resting against the inside of your right.

His hair tickled your skin, followed by the graze of his lips as he placed a few kisses in random spots to hear you groan softly, and he only stopped teasing when you reached down tentatively to run a hand through his hair.

"Wanna take care of you," Chan breathed the words against your skin, eyes closing as he felt the invisible chills rise through you, and all you could do was nod slowly while another shuddering moan leaped from your mouth.

At this rate, you'd come just from the sound of his voice, and that wouldn't be the worst thing in your opinion, but Chan demolished that idea by flicking his tongue across your folds.

The sudden attention to your entrance caused you to yelp in slight surprise and pure satisfaction, rolling your hips up for more, and your head pressing back into his pillow when he offered another tantalizingly slow pass of his tongue over your dripping cunt.

Chan smiled at your reaction, not wasting another second teasing you and using two fingers to spread you open for him to place a kiss on your clit. You were losing control under him, unable to stay still as he lapped at your drooling cunt, and circled his tongue around the ever-so-sensitive bundle of nerves in practiced patterns.

Soon, you couldn't keep quiet, your soft moans filling the air, fueling his every move. You could feel the pressure mounting in your core rapidly, and when Chan took the time to spit on your entrance before effortlessly dragging your hips closer to his face and wrapping your legs around his neck, you were bound to see stars.

He never failed to put his all into devouring you. If anything, Chan took immense pride in the task and wouldn't stop until you were overstimulated and your cum was all he could taste.

You let your head roll to the side as he let you grind against his face, gentle groans thundering through his chest each time your back arched from the bed, which told him you were close to unraveling.

Chan unwrapped your legs from around his neck, pushing them up towards your chest and putting all his focus into delving his tongue in and out of your leaking walls.

The slight invasion had you feigning for the stretch of his cock, and a love-drunk smile inched its way onto your face as he moaned at the taste of you. "You always taste so good, princess…" his voice was lowered, heavy with want, as he held your legs open for more access to your slick cunt.

"You're gonna cum in daddy's mouth like a good girl?" he mused at you, diving right back to your fluttering entrance, setting an agonizing pace with his tongue flicking over your clit and into your warm core. The feeling had your head spinning, and you almost didn't respond to him as a wanton whimper fell from your parted lips, but Chan elicited a reply with a soft slap against your thigh. You flinched at the subtle sting of his hand and nodded weakly as a quiet "yes sir" dripped off your tongue.

Chan hummed in approval, sending vibrations through you and pushing you over the edge in seconds. Your warm arousal flooded his mouth in waves, coating his skilled tongue as your body visibly trembled, hands fisting the sheets with every swift lick he did to savor your release.

Your high was spiraling down, but he wouldn't stop, holding you right to his mouth as he coaxed another orgasm out of you.

"D-daddy s'too much…s-stop-Ahm!" You tried to draw yourself away from him, but Chan held you down with a certain amount of force you knew was impossible to fight. Tears built in your eyes as he swirled his tongue in quick circles around your clit, slipping two thick fingers as far as possible into your soaking cunt, and curling them just right to hit your g-spot repeatedly.

Your mouth fell open, gaze fixed on the ceiling as it blurred over with white-hot pleasure, and your mind finally lost traction in reality as Chan forced you to cum in his mouth again.

Breathing was a struggle, and every time you gasped for a breath, he'd steal it away with another flick of his tongue or a precise thrust of his fingers. It was too much for you, the knot tightening in your tummy so fast you couldn't comprehend the feeling, and before you could steady yourself, another wave of euphoria coursed through you.

Your brows furrowed, a hand flying to clasp over your mouth as your cum spilled onto his hand, and an obnoxiously loud moan leaped from your throat. Chan finally pulled away from you, leisurely dragging his fingers from the sweet confines of your cunt and reclaiming his position hovering above you. Your legs fell open for him, cunt dripping onto his sheets with a steady stream of cum and his spit. He glanced down to admire the view before refocusing on your tear-stained face.

You couldn't stop crying, lost in the lingering sensation he caused, and your need for logical behavior long forgotten. Chan adored that unconscious stupidity swirling behind your eyes, knowing he was the cause and that you were beyond refusing his attention.

He tilted his head, smiling as he removed your hand from covering your agape mouth, and you shivered as his fingers fully encircled your wrist to pin it beside your head. A blush engulfed your damp cheeks as Chan lowered his head to kiss you deeply, whispering to you right before his lips connected with yours.

"Don't hide your moans from me, little one…I want to hear you…"

You can't even begin to formulate a response as his tongue dominates your own, making you taste yourself and drowning out the whimpers you fail to restrain. Chan caresses the side of your face, swiping his thumb across your cheeks to wipe away your tears while the other intertwined with the hand he'd been holding down.

Your tiny fingers fit so well in between his larger ones, squeezing them with the bit of strength you had as he started to grind his rigid cock into your eager core. His kisses became feverish the longer his length slid between your folds, and you bucked your hips to follow his rhythm.

He broke away from the kiss, head dropping to the crook of your neck as he groaned in ecstasy. Your free hand ran up Chan's back, dipping with every flex of muscle until your fingertips reached the back of his head, and you tangled your digits through the soft tresses as he held your hand tighter.

"Wanna take care of you," Chan repeated his earlier statement, falling into a daze the more you doted on him, and you smiled before nuzzling your nose against his temple.

“You do daddy…you always will…” you whisper in his ear lovingly, and he exhales slowly into your neck, placing a chaste kiss on your shoulder as he nudges the head of his cock past your folds. You cry out from the unwarranted stretch, accustomed to a warning before he slides inside you but not given one as he buries his length in you with one sharp thrust.

The tears come rushing back, and your nails dig into the back of his hand as he shifts his hips in shallow circles. "D-daddy…w-wait..mmm," you whine, wanting a moment to adjust, but give up as the tip of his cock reaches your cervix and replaces the twinge of pain in your core with shockwaves of pleasure.

Chan grunted as you clenched around him, your cunt conforming to every detail and drenching his cock with your slick. "There you go, sweetheart. Take me like a good girl…" he praised you amid his own moans, only able to hear the shaky, high-pitched ones you let out as he picked up the pace of his thrusts and let your small body rock against his.

The hand you had entangled with his went limp as he played with your fingers, ever so gentle with your soft fingertips that had relieved his stress moments ago, but the overwhelming repetition of his cock pounding itself into your spot relentlessly overshadowed the sweet gesture.

Two very contrasting feelings that encompassed Chan's personality perfectly.

He could be the sweetest, clingiest, and most dependable person you knew. At other times, he was the epitome of strength, control, and confidence.

He quickly became the only man you could rely on to make you feel safe, wanted, and most of all…loved.

In every aspect possible, he loved you and intended to show you that now and for the rest of his life.

A smile graced your lips as the realization dawned on you; in the fog of lust, you could still feel how much Chan cared for you, and that alone had your core aching with another climax. He felt the change in your body, saw the way your eyes slid closed in unfiltered ecstasy, and the way your breathing lost stability.

His fingers laced through yours again, the hand on your face traveling down your leg to hook it around his waist, which gave him a new angle to take advantage of.

"Right there.." you mewled as he hit an unfamiliar sweet spot, sending a shiver down your spine, and your cunt gushing slightly when he honed in on it. "Right there…" Chan growled in your ear, losing focus for a second as your cunt suffocated him, and your hand found a purchase on his bicep.

Your nails dug into his skin, helping to ground you as he pulled all the way out just to slam back into you more profoundly than before. "Yes…y-yes.." you drawled your answer out, forgetting how to speak as his cock twitched inside of you and effectively added to your excitement. "N' gonna cum…daddy p-please can I cum?…" your soft whine fills his ears, and as he looks into your teary doe eyes, he's compelled to give you anything you want.

"Yes, come for me, Princess…" Chan groaned lowly, having to hold himself steady above you as the pressure in his body reached its peak, his thrusts quickening to animalistic speed as you let him fuck you over the edge. "T-thank you.." is all you're able to utter as your body arches to meld into his, soft tummy brushing flush against his abs, and your cunt milking every single drop of his seed when it spills from his tip.

Chan halted his hips, burying his cock to the base so you'd have no choice but to accept it all, and you comply with a dreamy smile on your face.

He wanted to take a quick picture of you, wishing to possess a memory of you in this exact state for his personal use. You just looked so brilliant, all fucked out and docile with his cum safely nestled inside your womb.

You're panting softly, trying hard to keep your eyes open, but having a terrible time fighting your exhaustion. Chan carefully shifted his hips, drawing a sleepy moan from you and smiling at the sound. The hand he'd interwoven with yours drew back, pushing fallen strands of your hair away from your face as he laid down and guided your body to rest on his.

"Mmm, pull out, Channie.." you pout, still feeling his cock comfortably concealed in your fluttering cunt. He shook his head, adjusting to lay on the pillows properly before saying anything in response.

"We are going to sleep like this tonight, baby doll. It'll help me sleep…" he emphasized his decision with a subtle thrust. You whimpered at the definitive gesture, a half moan half yawn slipping past your lips, and you decided trying to change his mind wouldn't be possible in a state like the one you were in.

So, you stayed just as he positioned you, humming in delight as he kissed the top of your head while pulling the covers over you both and wrapping an arm around your waist while the other draped over his closed eyes.

"Thank you for always taking care of me, baby girl…" Chan mumbles into your hair, smiling when you hum softly and respond politely, "You're welcome, Daddy.."

+++++

Feel like I’m lacking in my writing lately but idk… 🖤

[kruegerslov3r]

my headcanons about simon riley

1. what's he like in a relationship?

simon riley would be a tough nut to crack in a romantic relationship. he's a quiet and private person, so it would take him some time to open up and let his partner in..

initially, riley would be cautious and guarded, unsure of how to navigate the intimacy of a relationship. he would struggle with vulnerability and expressing his feelings openly. subtle gestures and actions would speak louder than words for riley.

but once he trusts his partner and lets them past his defenses, riley can be a really caring and attentive partner. he'd be super loyal and protective, doing everything he could to keep them safe and make them feel secure.

in the relationship, riley would appreciate quality time spent together, even if it's just quietly enjoying each other's company. he may not be the most outwardly affectionate, but he would show his love through small acts of kindness and support.

riley would also be very patient and understanding, willing to give his partner space when needed. he would respect their boundaries and never pressure them. at the same time, he would hope for that same level of understanding in return.

intimacy may be a challenge for riley at first, as he's unused to let someone get so close. but over time, as he becomes more comfortable, he opens up and is quite passionate and devoted behind closed doors.

overall, being in a relationship with wimon riley would require patience and understanding. but for the right person who can break through his walls, he would prove to be a loyal, loving, and protective partner.

2. does riley have any specific relationship dealbreakers or red flags?

— lack of trust/honesty

given riley's traumatic past, the ability to trust and be trusted is paramount. he would have a very low tolerance for any dishonesty or deception from a partner. betrayal of that trust would likely be an unforgivable dealbreaker.

— disrespect of his boundaries

riley highly values his privacy and solitude at times. a partner who is constantly demanding his attention or prying into his past would quickly wear thin on him. he needs a certain level of independence and space within the relationship.

— recklessness or carelessness

riley is extremely cautious and calculated, both in his work and personal life. a partner who is reckless, impulsive, or careless would clash significantly with his careful, methodical nature. he couldn't be with someone who constantly puts themselves or others at risk.

— disloyalty

as a deeply loyal person himself, riley would expect the same from a partner. any hint of infidelity or betrayal of their commitment would likely be an immediate dealbreaker for him. he needs to feel secure in the relationship.

3. what qualities or behaviors would riley find most attractive in a potential partner?

— patience and understanding

Riley is a bit guarded, so he'd probably like someone patient who's willing to take the time to get to know him. He'd respect someone who doesn't pressure him to open up before he's ready.

— loyalty and discretion

as a highly private person, riley would value a partner who is discreet, trustworthy, and fiercely loyal. someone who can keep his confidence and stand by him no matter what.

— competence and capability

riley is skilled and talented in his own right, so he would be drawn to a partner who can match his level of competence. he would admire someone who is capable, resourceful, and self-sufficient.

— genuine care and affection

beneath his stoic exterior, riley yearns for genuine care and affection. he would be touched by a partner who makes the effort to understand him and show they truly care without being overbearing.

— perceptiveness

riley keeps his emotions close to the vest, so he would appreciate a partner who is highly observant and intuitive. someone who can pick up on his subtle cues and moods without him having to openly express them.

4. examples of how simon might express her attraction to a potential partner

— subtle acts of service

rather than grand, public gestures, simon would show his affection through small, thoughtful acts. perhaps he notices his partner's coffee mug is empty and quietly refills it.

— protective instincts

if he senses his partner is in any kind of distress or danger, riley's protective nature would immediately kick in. he might subtly position himself between them and any perceived threat or discreetly check in to ensure their wellbeing.

— intense eye contact

while man isn't one for overt displays of emotion, his eyes would likely betray his inner feelings. when interacting with his partner, he may hold their gaze intently, conveying a depth of unspoken affection.

— gentle, lingering touches

riley would be cautious about initiating physical contact, but when he does, it would be purposeful and charged with underlying meaning. a hand on the small of their back, a brush of their fingers, a longing gaze.

— sharing rare insights

simon is very selective about what he chooses to share about himself. if he opens up to his partner, even in small ways, it would be a profound display of trust and intimacy from him.

— defending their honor

should anyone ever speak ill of or act disrespectfully toward his partner, man would not hesitate to defend them firmly. his loyalty and protectiveness would shine through, even if he doesn't vocalize the underlying reason.

5. examples of how simon riley might express his attraction in a public setting

— discreet physical contact

man would likely avoid overt public displays of affection. however, he may allow for the occasional brush of his hand against his partner's or a gentle touch at the small of their back as they walk together. brief, almost imperceptible gestures that convey his desire for closeness.

— protective positioning

if in a crowded or potentially threatening environment, riley would naturally position himself between his partner and any perceived danger. this protective instinct would shine through, even if he doesn't explicitly acknowledge it.

— attentive body language

while riley may not openly stare or gaze adoringly at his partner, his body language would likely convey his focus and attention. he would face them, make occasional eye contact, and orient his entire being towards them.

— subtle expressions

riley usually doesn't show much emotion, but when he's with his partner in public, you can sometimes see a little smile or a crinkle around his eyes. only someone who knows him really well would notice it, though.

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Alastor - [ DEVOTION Pt. 6 ]

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Blame my obsession with K-dramas for how dramatic this last angsty part is. Also, to be clear, I do know some of you head-cannon Alastor as a ‘charismatic psychopath’ because of the way he acts in the show but personally I see him as more of a ‘dynamic sociopath’ while he was alive. I’m telling you this because I know authors tend to depict their faves so out of character just to progress the plot of their stories without any logical reasoning behind it. I am not that type of writer and therefore I don’t think my perception of (Human) Alastor is strange. Anyways, enough from me. Let’s get back to our regularly scheduled broadcast shall we?

WARNINGS: [ MDNI ] + [ MENTIONS & DESCRIPTIONS OF BLOOD / HORROR ] + [ PREGNANCY TROPE…it’ll be over soon I swear…] + [ IMPLICATIONS OF A MISCARRIAGE ] + [ DESCRIPTIONS OF A DEAD BODY ] + [ HEAVY ANGST ]

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On a cozy November evening, the Garden District of New Orleans bloomed with life. Its magnificent houses and mansions stood tall in the late-day sun, and the woeful winter breeze passing through the dazzling neighborhood rustled the greenery lining each home.

Many of the Jazz City’s locals regarded the area as an affluent attraction for outsiders to gawk and marvel at, while those who resided there took pride in its beauty.

You considered yourself fortunate to be a part of such a gleaming community, living a subtle life of luxury due to Alastor's wild success, but not entirely involved with other well-kept wives of similar influential figures.

Socializing had never been your forte; though it was required of you in mannerable situations, the constant exchange of loose friendships with strangers never entirely appealed to you.

Although, being married to a renowned public figure with an image to uphold puts you in compliance with the aversion.

Parties, local events, and even headlining musical performances became your routine social appearance.

Alastor was immensely proud to have you on his arm, charming the masses with your soft approach, swooning the newspapers with your angelic appearance and kind public gestures.

You did your best to make a lovely impression on anyone you encountered, wordlessly adhering to Alastor’s commanding ego and polishing the rough edges of his public image with practiced selflessness.

Few knew you personally, and even fewer saw you as a socialite.

Sure, you'd been polite to anyone who passed on the street, made small talk with neighbors, did charity work for those who thought to ask, and even donated effort towards Rosies spontaneous book club meetings every other weekend -though they were thinly veiled gossip sessions she'd orchestrate with fellow homemakers.

There wasn't a single person you could call a 'friend' who wasn't already close to your husband…

How Rosie had managed to crowd her stunning home with so many familiar yet strange faces, claiming to be precisely that -your friend- baffled you in more ways than one.

Yes, these people were acquaintances and admirers to some degree, but your friends?…

You had none besides Alastor, willing to remain by his side in matrimony just as you had from the moment you met him, reluctant to make any other connections since your shared childhood.

It didn’t help that Alastor developed a habit of scaring away new acquaintances behind your back and even resorted to violent acts of service to keep other suitors at bay before your shared vows.

As a result, the happy faces you saw now felt fabricated; every congratulatory remark didn't resonate with your heart, and the more people that arrived to celebrate you and Alastor, the more lost you felt.

They didn't know you.

No one knew you, but they adored your husband and, in turn, fawned over you.

Liars.

Everyone spouted half-truths, mirroring the ones Alastor had been telling you for months, and your heart grew heavier with each one told.

You could manage seeing him falsify his real identity to the public, to unsuspecting strangers, and to posh parasites.

You could handle being put on a pedestal, seen as the perfect wife, and expected to echo his ideal perception.

Lying to others was child's play, a game you two had grown to love, but Alastor developing the need to lie to you wasn't a tolerable offense.

The party began smoothly; guests swooped in with delightful gifts, either handmade or recently bought from the showcases of New Orleans's finest shops; gentle swing music wafted through the air of Rosie’s lavish two-story home that sat only a block away from your own.

She'd gone to the extreme for the whole ordeal: live music, tantalizing food laid out on tables in the parlor, decorations befitting a small ball neatly adorning the house exterior, and the creme de le creme of Louisiana's socialites filling the guest list.

Alastor uttered nothing but praise for his dearest friend's efforts, thanking her for the collaborative success with a broad smile and chaste kiss.

You followed his gratitude with a gracious nod, content with sitting at your designated table now lined with small gifts from an array of affluent attendees.

"My, Rosie, you've outdone yourself again! You even got Anthony and that grump Husk to show face," Alastor chuckled, eyeing the chattering crowd carefully until his gaze landed on the two opposing men.

Rosie hummed triumphantly, champagne flutes in one hand as the other flicked off an imaginary offense, "Oh, come now, Alastor, you know I'd do my best for the occasion! Everyone in town begged to be here. Not every day they get to meet radio's biggest star and his wife!"

She flashed a genuine grin at you, noting the slight glare on your face as you returned it, but said nothing.

Her attention reverted to the man beside her, who continued observing the crowd, sharing passing remarks with Rosie when a person of interest appeared.

You oversaw their exchange, deliberately soft-spoken the whole evening, often having to avert your focus to converse with a couple who'd come to give their gift and admiration.

Still, the minute the guests left to join the party again, you'd zero in on them.

Alastor felt your eyes on him, burning holes into the back of his head despite you sitting down to rest as the party moved along.

He refused to acknowledge your staring, patiently waiting for you to call for his attention rather than assume you needed it.

After ten minutes of idle chit-chat, he was obliged to give it to you, as Rosie excused herself for the time being.

You said nothing as he peered down at you over his shoulder, amber eyes glinting gold under the lowering sunlight pouring in from the opened bay windows behind you, lips curled into a familiar smile that you considered returning for a moment.

It was hard for you to deny how magnificent Alastor looked in the thrall of pride, dressed in a Burgundy suit with cream accents, hair neatly styled to hide his natural brown curls from the eye of others, and his skin glimmering under natural light.

He was beautiful, deceptively desirable even in your eyes filled with one-sided hurt, and you wished to let go and stand by his side with the utmost confidence in him just as you'd done so many times before.

It would be so easy to forget his transgressions then, to fully enjoy the celebration of your children's oncoming arrival together, but as he elegantly turned on his heel to approach you, splinters of suspicion pricked through your forgiving nature.

You wouldn't t let him charm his way out of this.

Enough was enough.

Alastor watched as your expression grew hard, hidden from the festive crowd by his lean frame as he knelt at eye level with you.

To those around you, the gesture came off as romantic, an endearing sight of a husband tending to his pregnant wife, and not the unspoken detachment of trust between a loyal lover and her predatory protector.

Alastor reached for one of your hands, subtly tugging it from resting on your stomach to resting in his palm.

A sickeningly sweet smile plastered his face as he placed a ginger kiss on your gloved knuckles.

His eyes never left yours as he enacted the loving gesture, swirling with unabashed mischief as you dug your nails into his skin, and the slight pain beckoned him to hum with delight.

You were angry and even enraged with him, but you showed it subtly and practiced, and if he were an ordinary man, Alastor would've considered feeling guilty for it.

But your husband was far from average, far from the definition of guilt, and you wouldn't have him any other way because, despite all his faults and evils, you loved him.

You loved him, felt loyal to him, would do anything for him, yet he lied.

He carried on belittling your trust to mere innocence.

Resentment radiated off you in waves, barely drowned out by the party's happenings but settling on Alastor's shoulders with force.

"Is there something troubling you, my dear?" he asks lowly, eyes steady on you as your smile tightens.

"You." is the only word that leaves your lips, laced with lethal rage in the softest tone, and the contrast elicits a rare frown from him.

He lets your response linger, tangling with laughter and music but remaining in his consciousness as he rises to his feet.

A specific anger curls in Alastor's chest, one he seldomly felt for himself, but the look on your face as he rose to his full height above you made it potent.

Something was different; that sweet girl he'd grown to cherish now looked tainted, and now he knew it was his fault.

"Darling…" he began to formulate an inquiry, faltering in his well-tailored demeanor to conjure a suitable remedy for your anger, but his excuses weren't quick enough.

You carefully stood to your feet, forcing a smile before raising on your tip toes to kiss his cheek, smoothing a hand over his suit until it rested where his heart was.

Your lips neared his ear, whispering spiteful words that didn't match the loving aura you showcased to the onlooking guests.

"You, my love, are a heartless lying bastard. Keeping secrets from me, your wife, of all people? Is that what your devotion to me means? Not trusting the woman who loves you? The mother of your children? If it is, then you can burn in hell with satan himself..'

The strain of smiling through your pain began to take its toll.

Tears welled in your eyes as each hurtful word fell on his ears, but you refused to cause a scene at such a lovely event and resorted to walking away from him as swiftly as you could manage.

Alastor was left to stand alone, his jaw clenched and his control wavering as he heard your heels click further away.

A few guests tried to gain your attention, but you quickly and respectfully declined their engagements, barely making it out of their view as tears streamed down your face, but by fate's grace, you found solace in Rosie's kitchen.

All of the cooks, maids, and waiters were absent.

Everyone was upstairs enjoying the festivities, celebrating you and Alastor's happiest time, but here you were.

Alone.

Beside yourself and utterly alone.

You tried to sob quietly, choking back frustrated screams while pacing, but the look on Alastor's face after you'd confronted him about lying brought more tears.

You'd never seen him hurt, taken aback, guilty like that.

He'd always been so perfect in your eyes, composed and deliberate about his presence.

Now, you'd ruined that image, and at what cost?

Would he come clean now or shut you out even more?

Was your anger worth any of it? Was his lying worth it?

Your heart was a mess, desperate to connect with his, but reluctant to it all at once.

“….”

Maybe father was right…

The sound of quick footsteps approaching the kitchen didn't register to you, drowned about by your excessive crying, but another presence was made evident as two gentle arms wrapped you in a hug.

"Oh, honey, come here…" Rosie cooed into your hair, frowning as your cries became hysterical, muffled by the frilly fabric of her dress.

"H-he's been lying to me, Rosie! Alastor…..a-and everyone else in this decrepit city has been playing me like a fool!"

You shuddered violently, trying to breathe correctly despite a filled stomach and a rush of anger taking its toll.

Rosie hushed you gently, letting you cry in her arms until your breaths came steadily.

She ushered you to sit somewhere comfortable as she gathered a few items to help your nerves settle.

"He lied to me," you repeat tiredly, watching as she throws together a pot of tea, using herbs you know all too well.

A sprig of Lavender, sprinkle of cinnamon, bits of rosemary, and a few drops of honey. Finally, a dash of lemon for taste.

This a simple but potent recipe for a calming and effective cup of tea.

Rosie sighs, debating what to say as she lets the mixture steep in a porcelain cup of hot water.

You weren't wrong; Alastor was hiding things from you, and though she hated to see you so distraught because of his hidden deeds, the possibility of hurting you with the truth weighed on her.

Betray, her closest friend's trust, tell his wife the haunting truth and pray she still loves him after hearing it.

Or, keep up the charade he'd so carefully created to protect you, risk driving you mad with resentment, and contribute to the cycle of pain you felt?

Rosie had difficulty choosing which path to follow but soon made her decision as you spoke again.

"Rosie…tell me the truth. Is he…is he seeing another woman? Planning to leave me? To leave us?.." you glance at your stomach, fearful of her answer and terrified your assumptions might be right.

Oddly silent, she doesn't answer your questions immediately and finishes preparing your fresh cup of hot tea, "Rosie, please! Whatever Alastor is hiding from me, I need to know. I…I'm his wife, and I have the right to at least know what's being kept from me. What is he doing out so late all the time? Why can’t I leave the house without him anymore? And for goodness sake, why does he insist I don’t read the paper?!”

The blonde freezes where she stands, whipping her whole body around to stare at you intently, and you stop yourself from rambling seeing her serious so suddenly.

"Al isn't being unfaithful, dear. That I can tell you for certain.."

"Then what in god's name is he-"

Rosie drew closer to you, dawning an all-too-sweet smile you'd learned to dread.

That happy expression was practiced, used only to console your fears or quell any questions you had.

She'd gotten so well at fronting the mask that you nearly began to believe anything she said when it was on, but now you knew better.

You knew that smile meant more lying, and in that moment, you lost the will to trust anyone in Alastors' close circle.

Even Rosie.

"I think it's time you go home and rest, dear. All this stress and crying isn't good for the babies," the blonde moved you gently, helping you stand and walk the expanse of her kitchen, up the stairs, and down corridors until the ongoing party reached your ears again.

That entire trek back upstairs felt meaningless, a distant woeful memory you existed in just to be flung back into reality by Rosie's voice, "I'll go get Al and have him take you-"

Your head snapped up at the mention of the one man who'd caused so much sorrow, tongue poised to speak harshly about him, but your penchant for politeness tempered it.

"That won't be necessary, Rosie. I'll get home just fine on my own."

She balled, clutching the string of pearls around her neck, "Oh goodness no, dear! This may be uptown, but it is still no safe place to walk about all alone. And dare I say, Alastor’s just wouldn't have it-"

"Rosie. I don't wish to see or be near him!.." you hissed as quietly as possible, lips pursed and eyes glaring daggers into her crowded parlor room.

Despite her better judgment, Rosie let the matter go, frowning as she made a heady suggestion.

"Why don't I have a close friend walk you home then? Just in case. There is a murder running 'round, and we can't have you getting hurt or caught up."

There it was again…

We…

You knew she was referring to anyone but you. Alastor, Angelique, her.

Everyone but you seemed to have a significant stake or curious investment in your unborn children's well-being.

The eerie overprotectiveness always made you weary, but at this point, you found it alarming, to say the least.

However, Rosie was right to a point.

There'd been a murder -or several- running a muck in Louisiana’s deep south.

Specifically, New Orleans.

Although the gruesome crimes were frequent, morbidly committed, and consistently reported on by papers and radio shows alike…

No one, not even the expert authorities, seemed to pinpoint a suspect or apparent killer among the public.

All that they knew was the killer's intangible motives, their style, their choice of victims -but nothing substantial enough to apprehend them.

You couldn't care less about a possibility of the Bayou Butcher coming for your head.

Your anger towards Alastor proceeded your worries for personal safety.

Rosie didn't wait for you to come to reason with her observation, already scurrying into the parlor to find your husband and tell him of your wishes to leave.

It irritates you how fragile she, Alastor, and everyone else he knows treated you.

It was as if you couldn't fend for yourself, as if he was the only one capable of cognitive thought in your marriage, and to some degree, the realizations stung your pride.

Traces of anger grew in your heart towards him minute by minute, something you never dreamt of feeling for him, but dreams can quickly turn into nightmares as your father would say…

This moment was that turning point. You could feel the shift as you turned away from the packed parlor, ignoring those who gave greetings as you stalked toward the front door.

Some asked if you needed assistance, and others watched in confusion as you slipped out the door and let it slam shut behind you.

Not many people were on the front porch and lawn, and those who were let you pass through without saying a word.

You presumed they were just waiting for the moment to gossip again, whether it be about you or someone else.

The need to care wasn't one you had, taking brisk steps down the sidewalk under a setting sun as rare chilled breezes sweep the southern heat from your face.

It was convenient that Rosie only lived a block and a half away from you, and Alastor’s shared estate.

The semi-long walk gave you time to think, time to enjoy the scenery around you and get away from the suffocating expectations put on you simply by being the Radio Star's perfect wife.

You scoffed at the thought, trying not to get angry again as your steps took you around a familiar corner, but the negative feeling quickly lessened when you felt a gentle rap of kicks in your stomach.

The twins gave a subtle tussle, sensing their mother's distress, and to some degree, you believed they were trying to cheer you up.

Their tiny gestures worked, putting a smile on your solemn expression and keeping it there to your destination.

You shuffled up the steps to your home, tired, feet sore, and ready to cry again as the large structure reminded you of the man you'd left to endure the company of his admirers.

His.

Not yours.

That had always been the difference.

With a sigh, you unlocked the front double doors, shutting them swiftly as street lamps began to light up and locking the ornate wood panels right after.

It was a habit Alastor insisted on and one you didn't intend to break tonight.

He'd have to come through the back door, and as small as the hassle would be, you still found it a suitable enough sign of discontent from you to him.

With nothing but sleep on your mind, you trudged up the staircase, pulling your gloves off and preemptively pulling pins from your styled hair.

By the time you reached the bedroom, your hair flowed loosely down your back, and your dress zipper was pulled down (by some miracle, you managed to do it on your own).

You tossed the pins on your vanity, jewelry, gloves, and clutch purse, following suit.

Your shoes regained their spot in the closet, your clothes were thrown into the bathroom hamper, and your nightrobe was thrown over your arm as a replacement.

You were ready for bed after one hot shower, a face care routine, and a hair brushing session.

Alastor still isn't home yet…

The clock had struck midnight thirty minutes ago, and he'd yet to show his face.

You half expected him to, but after years of seeing him angry on very few occasions, you highly doubted he'd return without cooling himself down first.

He tended to go hunting as an alternative…which left you alone for hours on end.

Sadness and guilt crept into you as the argument replayed in your mind.

The emptiness of your shared bed did not help your aching heart, and the heavy silence of the house made it worse.

You may have gone too far.

Maybe he wasn't hiding anything, and I overreacted?

Maybe I was wrong to doubt him, to worry and fret over something trivial.

Your thoughts spiraled again, tears filling your eyes as regret got the best of you.

"What have I done…?" you mumbled in earnest, glancing around the room, wishing to apologize to Alastor or at least explain yourself in a better tone.

Sleeping without him felt foreign, unreal, and even like a self-inflicted punishment.

You saw no benefit to it, and you were consumed with worry.

I can’t do this…

With your mind racing but your body ready to rest, you decided that taking one of Angelique's tonics would soothe you enough to relax.

You left the room on a mission, carefully treading downstairs and into the kitchen, and with haste, you found the cabinet holding the container of vials she’d gifted to you every month.

You opened it swiftly, hoping to find what you needed, but the box was empty.

"Oh, for the love of!-" you hissed angrily, shoving the box away with a grimace, but the sour expression didn't last long as you remembered where to find extra tonics.

Angelique was an insightful woman, cautious enough to give you extra in case something like this happened.

Fortunately, Alastor insisted on putting the additional vials somewhere else so as not to mistake them for regular tonics.

You'd agreed to his idea, allowing him to keep them safely locked in the basement, but now you needed them.

Leaving the moonlit kitchen, you drifted into the second hallway, walking straight ahead to the basement door.

Its key hung on a hook to the left, a small silver trinket Alastor kept a tight watch on, and you tended not to mess with it.

That went for the basement as well.

It was his area of the house you stayed away from not only out of personal reluctance but also out of explicit instructions from him.

His reasons for your avoidance ranged from "Trust me, It's too dangerous for you, darling.." to "Just as you have the library as a safe haven, I have the basement as mine…"

You hadn’t thought to question him, having no reason to, but for once, you disregarded his wishes to grant your own.

He'd never know you went down there only to retrieve medicine. What harm could one peek do?

You plucked the key from its hook, unlocking the creaky black walnut door before reaching into the dark abyss for the lamp switch.

Your fingers found it on the left wall, flicking the switch to bring a warm golden light into the damp room.

The steps croaked under your slow footsteps, holding firm under your nearly doubled weight until you stepped onto the cold wooden flooring.

Alastor kept the space oddly clean; a chair sat in one corner, his hunting gear was neatly arranged on one of two long oak tables, and the walls held other hunting equipment.

You noticed most of the hanging instruments were carving aids, something your own father used to cut and properly clean his own game after he went hunting during your childhood.

Seeing the array of butcher knives and other tools did not frighten you; they were familiar and expected from your husband's choice of hobbies.

Nothing caught your attention at first, usual kickbacks and things tucked away in corners and a hefty radio set on the second table, but little stood out.

You treaded carefully though, peering curiously at different items as you searched for the spare box of tonics, but they were nowhere to be found at first glance.

You figured to look deeper, rummaging through cabinets and under the table, mindful of your swollen belly as you bent down or reached above.

The longer you searched, the more anxious you felt.

Somewhat afraid of being in the basement alone, and a little scared Alastor would find you down there, though he explicitly asked you not to be.

"I have to hurry.." you mumbled, eyes frantically searching the space again as the last cabinet you searched held nothing important to you.

A particular corner of the room caught your gaze. Right behind the armchair was a stack of boxes of different sizes.

You drew closer to them, spotting the extra medicine box on top, gently grabbing it from the pile, but you couldn't look away from the most enormous box sitting right at your feet.

It was huge and made of sturdy metal, unlike the rest, and you were sure a whole person could fit in it if they tried.

How odd…

You'd never seen it before but the box felt sorely out of place, among other things.

You couldn't peel your attention away from it, some invisible force urging you to look inside, and despite your better judgment, you gave into the desire.

Setting the medicine box down on the chair, you moved the other cases off the larger one, clearing it off before cautiously kneeling to open it.

There was no lock, only four bolt latches, which you found easy enough to undo, but the real task was lifting the heavy lid up high enough to see inside.

You managed it with a few determined huffs escaping your lips, letting the heavy lid hit the stone wall before taking a look inside.

You immediately wish you hadn't..…

"Oh God…" you whispered in utter shock and horror at the sight in front of you, feeling undeniably sick from it, mind racing to make up a rational reason for the vulgar sight.

But what rational reason on Earth could justify your beloved husband hiding a literal mutilated body in the basement.

Your heart sank seeing the poor souls' faces sunken in with dread, drowning in their blood, maned at various points as if an animal had mauled them.

Body parts were missing, skin had been flayed, and you almost couldn't tell if the person had any recognizable features left.

It was horrible…a brain-altering nightmare come to life before your very eyes, and it made you sick.

You began to cry, unconsciously sobbing hysterically as the dead body lifelessly peered back at you, terrified of it… slightly afraid of the man you presumed caused the damming scene.

With a sense of urgency, you reached to shut the lid, flinching as loose blood splattered onto you from the impact of the box closing, and the chill of red liquid dripping down your skin was enough to make you scream in pure disgust.

It was a guttural, frantic cry you'd only expressed in recent nightmares, but a deserved one.

Your body began to shake in peril, the gruesome image engraved into your mind as you scrambled to get to stand, but you weren't as composed as before and stumbled backwards haphazardly as a result.

Everything moved faster than you thought; your body had abandoned control, leaving you to fall without warning.

The room spun as your head collided with a table's edge, a dull pain erupting in your skull on impact, and your consciousness wholly disrupted.

The blinding pain of falling to the hard floor didn't register to you as panicked tears seeped down your face, screams you couldn't hear left your lips, and blood began to pool from your head and between your legs.

Shock, terror, helplessness, fear, and panic were all you could feel.

Intense pain in your stomach and head amplified the emotions but became distant sensations as your vision blurred and faded.

The very last words you remember speaking was a cry for help, a desperate plea for everything you'd seen to be a mistaken dream, a cry for anyone -no- your husband to save you from the terrible ordeal.

A plea for him to appear and tell you it's not true, that the body in the bolted box wasn't his doing, but your hope of him hearing you -anyone hearing you- dwindled rapidly as your concussion took hold.

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

Rosie found Alastor quickly enough, merely having to spot his neatly styled curls drifting in the wind as he stood out on a balcony alone.

A drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

He blew smoke into the murky winter air, eyes dark and narrowed as he stared at the evening sky.

It was rare to see him frowning.

Alastor Hartifelt, of all people, not smiling?

Rosie nearly couldn't believe it the closer she drew to him.

He was…upset.

Irritated.

His smile was thoroughly washed away by your harsh words and prods for the truth.

You'd managed to take his cheer in one fail swoop, leaving him alone to think, and he couldn't blame you.

You, his ever-so-loving wife, his confidant, and his soon-to-be motherly doting doe, were rightfully at odds with him.

He'd hurt you, the very reason he'd began lying in the first place was to avoid doing so, but it'd happened anyway.

A genuinely ironic turn of events, in his opinion.

Alastor glared at the rising moon, cursing whatever higher power meddled dared to meddle in his life of all people, but his inner ranting was cut short as the sound of Rosie clearing her throat hit his ears.

The radio host spun on his heel to face her, fronting a slight smile to hide the agitation he felt at the moment, "Done socializing already, dear Rosie?"

He strived to sound polite and unbothered, but the edge in his tone showed through despite his best efforts.

Rosie paid no mind to his touchy attitude, knowing where it stemmed from.

She came to stand by his side, nodding in response to his question, "I didn't have much time to. I was with your lovely wife…trying to calm her nerves."

Alastor's frown returned at the mention of you, a thin line on his lips and a glint of guilt in his gaze.

"How is she?" he asks quietly, and Rosie's cheery expression falters hearing it.

"She insisted on returning home… by herself. Incredibly distraught on her way out.." She admits.

His chest tightened, heart sinking instantly picturing you at home alone, "Why didn't she-"

Rosie clicked her tongue dismissively, interrupting his line of questioning, "Al, she was severely distraught. Please let her be. I only know a fraction of what went on between you two, but it's obvious to her that you're hiding something. Not to intrude on your marriage, darling, but you must make a choice before something irreversible happens to it…to Y/n."

The blonde couldn't hide her somberness, staring at her long-time friend with a sense of earnest sincerity as she continued, "I shouldn't be the one to tell you this….but if you really do care for the girl, love her like you say you do, then you'll tell her the truth. You'll tell her, and she'll still be by your side…."

Alastor lowered his head, and for the first time in his adult life, he felt perplexed, stuck at impasss of foreign emotions.

He cared for you; some might call it love, and he'd been aware of it since childhood.

You'd told him all your secrets, good or bad, and trusted him.

You trusted him enough to reveal the mental abuse your father had put you through during childhood.

Trusted him enough to tell him how badly you wished you'd died instead of your mother to make your father somewhat happy again.

Alastor even knew of the times you'd been left completely alone as a child for weeks on end, how your father's neglect made you feel less than, and the permanent effect it had on you.

Your desire to fill a void, be loved without being shoved off, and be seen as more than a convenient soft-hearted person for someone to trifle with.

He knew every little thing about you, and it was because you had faith in his loyalty.

He found it easy to divulge his thoughts to you in the same manner, but allowing his secrets out into the open made him uneasy, even if you'd proven trustworthy from the beginning.

Then there was the matter of killing for you.

Alastor had done it so many times without your knowledge…

Stalking down men who stared at you too long for his liking, carving up anyone who spoke ill of you, happily taking the life of those who spoke down on your relationship.

Most of his murderous tendencies were purely driven by his obsession with you, a twisted kind of possessiveness he couldn't let go of, and one that made it easy for him to spill blood for you in the blink of an eye.

He did it to keep you safe…and that’d only be possible with him and no one else.

What stopped him from telling you how far he’d gone to do so, showing you that unnatural side of him only his victims saw, could only be described as fear.

Fear of losing you.

Fear of stripping the warmth from your heart.

Fear of losing the one thing, the one person who'd loved him despite all his flaws.

Fear of never truly smiling, never feeling a genuine emotion again because you -your presence in his life- allowed him to do just that.

Alastor hated to call it what it was, but as he was evading your attempts to understand, lying straight to your face and hoping you'd dilute your intuition was a way cowards way out of telling you the whole truth.

His pride dimmed, a frustrated grunt rumbling his chest as he glared at the drink in his hand.

Rosie sighed, flashing him a soft smile of pure reassurance, "Go to her, Al. Put a stop to her worries and relieve yourself of the burden. If not for your marriage, then for her sanity. She is too lovely of a girl to be treated so faithlessly."

He tongues his cheek at her words, a bitter burn of smoke and whiskey on it as he swallows thickly before nodding in agreement, "Seems I have no choice."

"You best head off. It's getting rather late, and I'm sure she misses you dearly, Al."

Alastor took one last drag of his cigarette, dropping it in his half-full bourbon glass before letting Rosie take it from him as he straightened his suit.

"I'll bid you good night then. You have my gratitude, Rosie, and the party was a splendid success, if I may add." His tone was back to normal, engaging, and mildly charismatic. Rosie smiled wide at his improving mood, accepting his thanks before shooting him off with a quick peck on his cheek.

“Au revoir monsieur!…”

“Au revoir mademoiselle..”

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

Alastor made it home without trouble, humming a snappy tune to distract himself from the evening's progressing events.

However, as he reached the back door of your shared home, his shadows twinged with alertness.

His hand froze over the gold doorknob, a certain heaviness settling in his chest as the specters frantically twisted against the back porch walls.

Something is wrong. Can't hear Y/n. Can't hear their heartbeats. Can't feel them-

Alastor stiffened as his shadows enlarged, fueled by the panic he was resisting, "Find her!" he bellowed the order out on instinct, and the leering spirits dove into action as he barreled into the darkened home.

"Y/n!?" he yelled for you, head whipping in every direction as he searched the first floor, stomping up the stairs next to search the second floor but coming up empty.

He stood in your shared bedroom, remaining calm as he tried to figure out where you could be.

All your belongings were here, and you had readied for bed from the looks of your tampered vanity, but nothing else gave him a clue about your whereabouts.

That was until his shadows called to him; a certain bellow of wailing sounded from the lower part of the house, and one Alastor didn't like the sound of.

A warning.

A frenzied one at that.

Found her…hurry.

Without a second thought, Alastor bounded back downstairs, following the whips of his shadow self as it traveled through the halls, only to stop in front of a doorway he dreaded.

The basement. Its door was wide open, the lamp light eerily aglow as his shadows whirled past the steps to engulf the room.

“Y/n?!…” Alastor called for you again as he crept down the creaky wood steps, voice stiffer than he intended it to be, but its edge paled compared to the large lump forming in his throat when his eyes spotted you.

Splayed out on the floor, on your side, lying limp and motionless.

A small puddle of blood was forming near your head, another was quickly growing in between your legs, and splatters of it covered your face, hands, and nightgown.

For the second time in his life, Alastor felt true terror, bewildered by the sight of his darling wife in distress and paralyzed by the powerful possibility it was his fault.

He’d only felt this fearful once before, afraid his father would end his mother’s life right in front of him after a hefty night of drinking, but even then, he found the courage to act.

Merely killing his father out of pure rage-filled instinct, but now…how he would remedy your suffering alluded him completely.

She's barely breathing… Their heartbeats-

"That's quite enough from you!" Alastor roared in utter frustration, moving without thinking, willing himself to do anything but panic.

He worked as quickly as his mind would allow, trying not to break down as he knelt beside your still body, "Y/n…darling…wake up… please…" he begged quietly.

Being as cautious as ever, he cradled you close, praying to whatever cruel god there was that you'd respond or at least open your eyes while he carried you out of the haunting basement.

Your body twitched at the sound of a familiar voice, feeling lighter as solid arms lifted you from the cold floor and whisked you from the damp room.

The sound of a rapid heartbeat thundered in your ear as waves of coherence fought to establish itself in you, but the severity of your wounds made it a struggle to function.

You settled for listening to the heartbeat, the voice accompanying it a vague background noise but a comforting one.

Your vision wasn't any better, only allowing you to see a murky image of a man, one you knew well but couldn't determine was real or not in the moment.

“Al..astor?..”you whispered in awe, smiling sadly as he looked down at you, clearly worried.

“Stay with me, darling… Keep breathing, please…”

Alastor felt you shiver violently in his arms hearing him speak, racing up the stairs as cautiously as possible to avoid hurting you more, barging into your shared bedroom seconds later.

He laid you down on the bed, disregarding the blood and dirt staining the sheets as he tried to assess your injuries. "Fuck…fuck…fuck!" he rambled angrily, breaths coming quick, and his mind in a rare frenzy as a result.

Your eyes refused to stay open, an apparent wound was on the side of your head, and the impact of your fall had indeed done something to warrant your lower half bleeding.

He needed to stop the bleeding from both areas, keep you awake, and determine the twin's state all at once.

Alastor knew this but struggled to pull himself together, only able to grasp at one of your hands with both of his to ground himself as a frustrated smile adorned his face.

Pull it together, or she and your children die.

It's all my fault… it's all my fault…

She'll die if you don't act…

It's all my fucking fault…I-

She needs help! Wallowing in your depraved guilt won't change that!

His shadows chittered, reasoning with their host despite the panic they felt seeping off of him.

Alastor screwed his eyes shut, an anguished growl leaving his chest as he tried to think of a solution and push away his panicked state.

You remained still, on the verge of passing out again, trying to hold onto reality a little longer, squeezing your savior's hand back as a weak tether to it.

Alastor froze, feeling your gesture, head lifting swiftly as you attempted to speak, "It h-hurts.." you muttered painfully, acknowledging a new ache you'd only felt a few weeks prior.

Intense shocks of strain spread in your abdomen, noticeable contractions that felt different than previous ones, but as much as you wanted to articulate the agony they caused, you couldn't find the strength to.

You screamed instead, gripping Alastor’s hand hard as the constant pains grew more robust, making your cries grow louder.

The terror in your screeches struck him hard, an almost unnatural sound he'd never imagined coming from you, but your following words gave the sounds plausible clarity.

"Th-they're c-coming!" you choked between labored breaths, feeling dizzy as your blood loss took its toll, but the growing urge to push trumped your need to pass out.

Alastor came to his senses upon hearing your warning.

Fully aware that he couldn't handle this situation alone, he did the only thing that made sense to him.

Ask for help. Something he hated to do but saw no alternative for.

"Go get Rosie. Make it quick. Find my mother next and get her here as well…" he commanded his shadows quietly, heart still racing as he took solace in comforting you.

The bed dipped as he sat down, free hand cradling your head as the other raised yours to his lips.

He planted a kiss on your knuckles; brows furrowed as the feeling of your fingers gripping his slightly lessened, an indication of culminated exhaustion and blood loss.

"Stay with me, ma chere. Just a while longer, alright? Everything…everything’s going to be fine…" Alastor muttered soothing words into your ear, a ploy to keep you and himself calm, and to some extent, it worked.

You hung onto his every word, confused and alarmed by him but clinging to the safety his presence brought.

You couldn't forget what you saw in the basement, the horrid image still stuck in the back of your mind as you cried in agony and writhed in desperation for help.

You couldn't believe that Alastor, your perfect husband, the man watching over you now so fervently, had done something so horrible to another person.

You had many questions, fears, and even more confusion than before.

Nevertheless, your dire position now completely overshadowed the underlying nightmare that was your marriage.

Your children.

That's the only thing you could clearly envision, enduring the heartache, suffering through the genuine threat to your life, all for their sake.

Confronting Alastor could wait.

Surviving the night and bringing healthy twins into this world couldn't.

xxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx

I'm putting the reader through a lot...but you all will survive... Maybe. Also, the song choices for this one kind of hit just right. ;)

TAGS ❤️: @rapturenyx @michi-keinz @shealizxx @nissrinina @destinyisastar @bubblegumheartsy @sailorsmouth @aestheticgals-blog @rameisa @ellesette

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

This edit is so fitting, I fear... Credits to creator ❤️

[ivesambrose]

𝓦𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓭 𝓸𝓯 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝓮𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓼𝓮𝓮𝓴

1. 2. 3.

Here's to reminding all of you what your heart truly desires so you don't settle for less ❤️

To Book a personal reading with me DM or email me at Ivesambrose@gmail.com

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Picture 1

A love that feels like a gift and an answered prayer.

A love that happens in the right place at the right time.

A love built on understanding rather than endless compromises that make you lesser of the person you truly are.

You likely seek someone who is just as much of a giver as you are. You want a traveller, a merchant almost, a story teller, someone good with children or simply someone who brings out your inner child and soothes it. Someone who makes you feel secure and safe overtime. Someone who can guide you and that you can learn from. Someone who makes you feel beautiful.

You seek a type of love thar grows overtime, especially as friends, a reliable type of love, you also want to help others in need together, give back to the community, simply have more than enough. Love is supposed to be your safe space.

Avoid relationships or romantic partners who rush you or make you feel on the edge or aren't generous with their time, affection and resources.

Picture 2

A love that's crossed the oceans of time and burnt bridges and crawled out of the woods just to find you.

A passionate love.

A love built on something transcendal.

You seek someone uncommon but good with words and expression. You want someone expressive, determined and strong both internally and externally. Someone who does not required validation and can stay private but at the same time will express their love to you deeply.

You seek a type of love that is built on devotion. Your walls are titanium strong so to break that down and reach for the softness in your heart is not for the weak. You seek solid foundations and someone to build your own legacy with. Someone who mirrors you, you have a telepathy with and who will give you their world. You seek someone you can continue learning and growing fond of no matter how long time passes. You seek intensity as well as adventure.

Avoid relationships and partners you have no mental, emotional and physical stimulation with. With bare minimum efforts or if you feel you'll have to mask yourself constantly or settle just because they're 'nice'.

Picture 3

A love that quiets your anxious mind.

An honest love that doesn't make you question it's Integrity or make you watch your back with every step.

A love that will catch you if you fall. A love that won't judge you if you slip. A love built on thoughts, memories, words, secrets, poems, understanding and acceptance.

You seek someone emotionally present and mature. Someone calm and collected and soft spoken. Loudness and rashness really bothers you. You seek someone a little old school perhaps in aesthetics and approach yet open minded. Someone you can bare your soul to, tell everything to, know everything about and still feel secure. Someone to share your world with and travel the world with and maybe even create a one of your own together. Away from the norm. A love that feels like a warm hug on a winter's night. A love that writers about.

Avoid relationships and partners who can't understand your need to be silent and aloof sometimes. Avoid anyone and anything that makes you feel uncomfortable but insists that you're not supposed to feel that way.

[eldritch-spouse]

PINNIE I WANNA PUT BELO IN AN AMAZON POSITION, is that what it’s called,,,? I DUNNO DONT CARE I WANT THIS ANGEL BOY BENEATH ME—DOMINATE HIM AA!! Also it’s funny imaging a small human bending a large angel :}

[YOU'RE SPEAKING MY LANGUAGE OOOOOHHH-💨 Fem reader. You are not Admin in this.]

TW: Reader is slightly pushy at first but it's entirely consensual.

" I want to try something different. " You muse out loud.

" ... My Lady? "

Sex with Belo is great.

Upon first meeting the angel, you had one or two assumptions in your head that you thought held true. That angels are asexual, incapable of carnal desire. You thought he'd chastise you for expressing attraction to him, that he wouldn't make for a pleasing bedmate anyway.

You couldn't have been more wrong. Belo is none of those things.

In fact, the signs were there from the start. Belo had been struggling with containing his own desires for a torturous amount of time. You simply didn't want to interpret reality for what it was. Didn't want to believe that lingering touches meant more than just a different perception of personal boundaries, that his longing staring wasn't just a tendency of angels to be vigilant... Even as he confessed to finding you the most gorgeous lesser there is, you didn't believe that attraction could hold within itself the selfishness of lust.

Obviously, you know much better by now.

You know Belo craves to please you at any capacity he can, that your approval and ecstasy in bed is something he always seems to put before his own. And you love the sensation of his body atop yours, his sheer size, his warmth, the trembling need barely contained in his limbs when he sinks into you and that unforgettable softness experienced when your hands roam around his furred figure. It's bliss from beginning to end, your own little Eden provided by the angel that somehow proclaimed you his savior.

And yet...

Sometimes, it feels repetitive.

Like Belo is somewhat scared of doing something you would consider inadequate, so he sticks tightly to what he knows. Especially positions and gestures you have initiated in the past. You initially understood this as a sign of Belo's timidity and slight apprehension regarding such intimacies, but as time passes, you're fairly certain he himself is longing to try different things.

And you've been plagued with a certain mental image for a while.

So why not try your hand at it?

The power stares expectantly at your seated form on the couch by the doorway, having previously been in the kitchen, busying himself with chores you didn't assign or request of him- As usual. He dons on his front one of your aprons, the cloth looking ridiculously tiny on him, covered with stains you assume belong to sauces.

He's always wearing that black tight suit, it almost makes you feel bad for preferring to put on loose-fitting and comfortable clothes in your own home.

" I want to try something different, Belo. " You repeat.

There's a humorous pause wherein the angel tries to calculate what you might be talking about, your poker face and neutral tone betraying absolutely nothing. His eyes widen, and the non-human straightens immediately.

" Yes, of course my Lady! I've been looking at those uhm... " Belo gesticulates oddly, searching for words he doesn't necessarily understand. " Those digital cookbooks you have, and I spotted this very good-looking dish- "

Oh. Oh the poor thing.

He thinks you're talking about dinner.

The laugh that erupts from your throat is hearty and genuine, startling your devoted celestial into ashamed silence. Maybe he assumes you're mocking him for trying to use your social media bookmarks to cook. It's a genuinely sweet and loving effort from Belo, one of very many, provided he doesn't require nourishment in the form of actual food like you. You don't want him to feel self-conscious about something so considerate.

Rising from the comforting cushions, you approach the taller monster with a dubious little grin on your lips, hands dipping behind the apron to tug the long open collar of his outfit forward, down, your eyes meeting his two naturally engorged ones. The angel's tilted eyes have always been a touch too intense, but you know that's in his kind's nature, especially since he told you his specific cast specializes in combat and protection. Still, it's ever easy to get lost in those pools.

" I said something new. "

This time, there can be no type of misunderstanding. Even if Belo had the thickest skull in all of existence, the way your lids bat coyly and your head cants leaves zero to the imagination. An index flirts idly with neat clumps of fur as his chest begins fluffing in tension. He has no saliva to swallow down, but you wouldn't blame him if he gulped at this moment.

" Ah- I... I see. "

With a gentler smile, you undo the apron's knot, pressing a chaste kiss to the side of Belo's face, hearing him coo a noise out, before carefully removing the garment in a way that causes the least discomfort possible to his smaller pair of wings.

" Did you leave anything on in the kitchen? "

" No, my Lady. "

He doesn't quite know what to do with himself, hands previously twitching by his sides now holding each other at his front, before he decides the pose isn't appropriate and holds them at his back instead, straightening- As if you needed another reminder of how he towers over humans. Three eyes bounce everywhere in the room, avoiding you as he always does when nervous, yet occasionally fleetingly checking for some type of approval in your gaze.

Cruelly, you allow him to remain in that riled up stasis for a few precious moments, standing on the tips of your toes to further crowd him.

" Good. Leave dinner to me tonight. "

When you take that lightly furred pale hand in yours, Belo follows obediently after you like a lost puppy.

" Undress. " You begin as soon as you're inside the bedroom, not even bothered to look the angel's way as you start arranging the sheets and pillows.

You're going to put him in a position that might be a little stressful for a being with wings, so there's a lot of caution to be exercised here. You figure support for his lower back and neck should help. After all, he takes similar measures with you regularly.

The sound of something soft hitting the floor has you finally looking back, faced with your angel now bare, flexing his wings gently. You've always wondered how he doesn't struggle with taking off clothes given his large wings, you'd certainly consider it a chore, just as many demons hate sweaters that get caught on their horns.

Belo presents himself to you, standing straight and spanning his wings a certain distance -Careful not to hit the walls- And spreading his legs the slightest amount in spite of his ever present slight nervousness. You've always liked that little tuft of fur above his slit, the way it feels against your fingers when he neglects to trim it for a while.

" My beautiful angel. " You praise. " Come, undress me. "

And really, if there was one request you could make of the all-powerful beings Belo so frequently raves about, it would be the ability to see the way his furious flush spreads from his face to his already fur-covered neck.

Supremely gentle and dexterous fingers work at your clothes with the same reverence he continues to extend your way no matter how much time passes. You'll never get used to this level of sweetness, this worship, Belo touches you like with a love so profound you can swear you somehow feel it in the tips of his digits. Even in his moments of seemingly greedy pursuit of gratification, Belo doesn't seem to know how to be anything except devoted. Maybe it's because he's angelic, but you can say for certain that you've never been treated this nicely, and you've never longed for anyone's embrace as much as you long for his.

The power doesn't let his fingers roam too much when he follows your command, intent on getting things done dutifully as opposed to demonstrating lack of self-control. His eyes however, swirling windows to the soul of a celestial, reveal everything he refuses to voice or act on out of respect for you. Belo's pupils dilate immensely as soon as your bare breasts are exposed, his digits acquire a slight tremble as he makes to fold your top and set it down on the drawer, until you playfully bat it out of his hand. Belo sinks to his knees in front of you, and the view is so paradoxical -A holy creature kneeling to its gods' mistake- That you nearly burst out cackling. Instead, all that leaves your mouth is a silent gasp when he catches the hem of your sweatpants and drags it down, hooking over your panties as well. The trip down is slow, measured, and you know it's not an intentional tease but you still shimmy to have it fall faster, catching a twitch in his largest eye, while the one beneath it has fixed itself on your naked pussy.

When his task is completed, Belo remains kneeling obediently, palms flat on his thighs.

" Thank you. " You purr. " Sit on the bed. "

He does, albeit on the very edge, quickly correcting himself when you make a "further" motion.

Seeing the way Belo's eyes widen as you move to almost straddle him is as intoxicating as it was the first time. You remember the luxurious roll of your hips over his own, recall his fingers twitching as he tried to grab onto you without bruising frail human skin. Delightful and memorable.

" Lay, my sweet. "

Ever the glutton for obedience, it's not long before the angel is on his back, and you immediately take the opportunity to flatten your palms to his furred chest, fingers threading between that familiar softness like second nature. Your head soon joins, nuzzling yet careful to avoid the extra eye stationed there. You trail a path of lazy kisses upwards, tracing the edges of his built-in halo you can reach and dragging your teeth across the root of his left pair of head wings.

The response is instantaneous and intense, this sudden cooing moan hopelessly erupting from Belo's throat before he seems to pale even further in shame and muffles the noise. Tsk, it seems he'll never learn to sing freely, no matter how many times you reassure the power that his angelic vocalizations are half the fun. Those smaller wings twitch and flap, the ones on his back fanning out humorously.

" You're adorable. " It's said in a mocking tone, followed by laughter as the angel fails to suppress more noises when you offer the remaining wing equal attention.

You love that he's already matting his own fur in slick by the time you reach down to part it and play with his pretty pink slit. It's engorged, his length already brushing against the fingertips that brazenly dip inside. With a gasp, the power spreads his legs slightly and tenses. You can feel his effort to keep still.

As soon as you begin crawling back to settle your head between snowy legs, he gathers enough wit to start babbling the same old drivel.

" M- My Lady, you need not- "

" I don't need to, I want to. "

Belo looks at you like he doesn't quite get the point. And frankly, some concepts seem to have been drilled so hard into his mind that you worry he will never understand other views of the world.

" You want to please me, right? " You start, kissing at his sheath until the very tip of him shows itself.

" More than anything. " The male pants.

" Then you should know that pleasing you pleases me. "

And with that, you take what's available of his rosy length in your mouth, coaxing the rest of him out almost impatiently.

Belo's choked groan of surprise has you smiling around him, amused by the impulsive horse buck of his legs before he garbles and apology and tries to melt back onto the sheets, poorly. He won't hold your head. Not from lack of desire, but that ever-persistent sense of inferiority, fisting his hands on the fabric beneath him instead. When one of his arms does rise, all he does is shakily pet your hair, inhaling sharply at the swipe of your tongue across his head, before dropping it again.

" Lady... "

He moans pitifully, a delicious sound coming from a creature so supposedly holy.

As much as you'd enjoy keeping him between your lips, your goal this time is much more fun, so you pop off him lazily. There's a moment where he twitches and his fur bristles in what anyone can guess is instinctual irritation, but Belo doesn't say a peep.

Seeing his eyes bulge when you grab Belo's thighs and start bending them up is hilarious enough that you giggle openly.

" What- What are we doing, my Lady? "

" Relax, I promise you'll like it. " Or at least you assume he will, what with his desire to always be below yourself. " Now please, hold your legs up for me. "

The title would get repetitive if you didn't enjoy it so much.

The angel does, grabbing the back of his knees and sliding his legs back with the help of your guidance, until they're basically glued to his chest. He's fit, you're not surprised he can easily hold that position. In fact, you get to see the exact moment it clicks in his bird brain, the nature of the position he's in. His cock bobs aimlessly and his wings move almost as if to cover his figure sides in shame. And, admittedly, the view has all sorts of chills taking hold of your limbs, your own womanhood singing.

" My Lady, this is so... So...! "

Eyes roll slowly at his stuttering, though you relish the tremor of his pupils when you move to hover over him, as if your much smaller body could ever constitute as a minimal threat to his.

" Filthy? Lewd? Scandalous? " You kiss directly beneath his eyes. " Yes, just how I like you, my debauched dove. "

With a soft command for him to hold still, you rearrange the pillows beneath his body properly and take a moment to figure your own position correctly. After all, as much as you've thought about doing this before, you never actually got to make that wish come true, so it'll take a bit of experimentation.

Belo continues to be mildly confused. " No- No offense, Lady, but are you sure this is correct? "

You scoot to line Belo's member up with your entrance, rubbing him against you to spread the angel's arousal and facilitate things. He shudders in anticipation, the lowermost eye on his face already rolling in pleasure.

" Why wouldn't it be? "

He's not given a chance to respond before you gradually sink onto his girth, causing such a reaction that he nearly releases his legs before holding them ever tighter.

" Gghn-!! O-Oh... "

Sparing him the smallest mercy, you're slow to rock yourself on him, letting the first shock of heat flow through him before you're flush to his pelvis. It's a wonderful position, he's hitting you deeper than usual already, ripping a soft mewl out of you as your cunt clenches greedily around the intrusion.

" See? " You huff, slightly out of breath when you experimentally bounce a little on him. Belo whines long and low, unsure what else he can do to ground himself. " It works just fine. "

The first few rocks are entirely random as you try to quickly work out a rhythm and motion that works well enough, settling for straightening up and grabbing Belo's ankles for support, careful not to twist the tiny feathers there. Finally, you're able to get into it properly, a sickly delight on your face as you watch Belo's figure shift beneath your thrusts.

Is this... What you look like to him? Not a bad sight at all.

Belo's eyes, previously closing at the first taste of rapture your walls brought him, widen like the dinner plates at the notion that he's being well and truly fucked by his human. There's a pause where it looks as if his mind has truly been fried, one eye fixed on your face, another on the sway of your tits, and the other memorizing the way your pussy swallows him.

You won't lie, the rush of dominance, of having something so much more than human willingly present themself for you, allowing a tiny human to ride them into submission- It has you beside yourself with want, and your smirk crashes into a pleasured "oh" as you join Belo in his stunned marveling.

You'll be doing this a lot more often, for sure.

" Hhn- Oh lords please- I- " Belo melts and shivers, his chest fluffing itself further and his wings twitching sporadically. " Humans have- Developed such odd mating customs... "

He's talking like he isn't throbbing madly inside you right now.

" Mhm, you need to catch up on a lot of stuff, pretty boy. "

Though of course, you'll be personally helping with that.

When your mind starts blanking in bliss and your body gives its first warning signs of an approaching peak, you look down at Belo, whose head has tossed onto the pillow supporting his neck and whose wings fan out in a tense crescendo of pleasure. His legs and feet spasm periodically and he moans the wetter his fur becomes with your slick.

Another reason you like his fur is the surprising amount of friction and texture it can offer your clit when you're intimate. It's the soft brush of a feather almost, but enough to bring you closer to orgasm all that quicker! Honestly, the only downside to Belo's incredibly soft fur is that vacuuming is a little more frequent and pesky.

In moments, you're bending to be flush to his body, batting Belo's hands away so you can hold his legs back yourself. It's an even more intense angle, making you feel even more powerful as you hold the angel down and piston his cock into you as hard as you physically can, sweating and panting in exertion.

You're sure you must look downright beastly right now, but all Belo does is whine and mewl, still gazing at you as if you were the most entrancing thing to ever exist, a wonder of the universe above him. The power gathers enough motor coherence to brush strands of hair out of your face, tucking them behind your ear, before his arms flop uselessly at his sides once more, fingers curling in delight.

All those lavender eyes begin to roll, his hips rising off the bed yet smacked back down viciously by the weight of your body thrusting him down, in the midst of his mindless crooning noises, Belo utters your name like a plea for mercy and wraps his arms around your back, your breasts sliding on his chest and his legs reflexively fighting your grip so he can presumably wrap them around your smaller figure too.

He's a vision of the sweetest dream like this.

" Gods please don't stop- Please please- I'm sorry I can't- " The angel cries, tears beading in the corner of his three eyes, absolutely helpless and hopeless beneath you.

All of it comes together to send you well over the edge, throwing you into a climax so shockingly strong that you fuck yourself on him one last leg-shaking time before tensing and crying out to the ceiling. He follows instantly, having been holding himself for a while. You relish the sensation of Belo's cum shooting deep into your hole, only to have no choice except to drip back down and stain him, slip between his legs and yours in grossly warm globs.

Seconds of you two catching your breath silently and fondly pass, until you slowly release Belo's legs and rub his thighs in gratitude. He seems content to remain holding you, though avoids your gaze now that the post-orgasm clarity has him bashful again.

" Thank you for humoring me. " You sigh against his neck.

His wings close over the two of you gently. " Always, my love. "

[planetsano]

↻ 𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀: a gripping tale of love as the reader navigates a complex relationship with the infamous toji fushiguro OR toji fushiguro being a shit boyfriend should be a case study!

↻ 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: age gap (20’s ↝ 30’s), toxic relationship, smut.

↻ 𝗯𝘆𝗿: female reader, female bodied reader.

You see, the thing about Toji Fushiguro is that he’s always been unapologetically and shamelessly him— he’ll always be a man that will be forever stuck in his own ways. He’s selfish, crude, insensitive, and would do anything no matter how foul and evil to put him forward.

So.. it’s cute— no, admirable that you thought you could change him. A pretty, young thing in her twenties dealing with a wreck of a man like him. How sick is that? Really, your first red flag should have been him wearing a shirt three times too small.

Yeah, the age gap was certainly.. more than a few years, which heavily attributed to the mental disconnect in the relationship. You were bright-eyed and naïve, so much life in you and hadn’t experienced a drop of what real life was like. You often romanticized life, finding beauty in the simplest of moments and weaving dreams from the fabric of everyday experiences. Your vivid imagination painted the world with colors unseen by most, turning mundane occurrences into enchanting adventures.

You held on to the “love could conquer all!” and “I can fix him!” mentality or something like that. But your optimism was a double-edged sword, pushing you to cling to the relationship while also blinding you to the reality that perhaps you both needed different things in life. You needed a life partner and he needed a tight cunt to fuck.

It’s ironic because you approached him first.

“Mister Toji..? What’s your wife like?” You shyly played with the ends of your hair, avoiding his gaze like the plague. “Ah?” Toji raised a brow at you, slightly surprised by the forwardness of your question. “Oh right, ‘don’t have a wife.” “Oh..” You feel your face and the tips of your ears become hot with embarrassment. “Well maybe I could.. make you dinner sometime..?”

Toji liked the appeal of having a woman half his age on his arm. But what he simply could not stand was the amount of energy required for it— oh, don’t misunderstand, he never put forth any real efforts anyway, but it was simply the.. expectation. Toji didn’t give a fuck about dates or anniversaries, all he cared about was emptying his balls inside of your pussy, the hot dinners you make for him and cozy shelter you provide.

You liked to play housewife in your own silly little delusion, finding comfort in the make-believe world where everything was picture-perfect. The idea of being the nurturing, organized, and devoted partner gives you a sense of purpose, shielding you from the harsh realities of what really was. It was a cozy escape, a refuge where you could pretend that all your worries were mere fiction.

Yet, there were moments when the illusion began to unravel, and a whisper of doubt crept into your mind. Were you truly content with this role you had assumed, or were you sacrificing your true desires in pursuit of an idealized version of yourself? The nagging ty made you question if he really loved you as much as you were in love with him. Or at all for that matter. He was a busy man but would returning a call really hinder his day? Would a text twist his arm so much? You never ask though, you would hate to upset him or come across as “immature.”

But if he’s just so horrible, this.. big, bad man who found it annoying that you..? That you wanted to hold hands in public! What made you stay? Why stay with a man that seemed to only have his best interest in heart and you were a second, sometimes third, or forth.

His cock.

That cock was an addiction that you had no intention of quitting. The way this man fucked you was enough to liquidate your mind— leaving you nearly brain-dead as his warm seed oozes from your hole. The width of his cock alone made you stretch an absurd amount, teetering the edge of comfortability. His tip relentlessly gives your cervix a beating— bruising it and leaving a delicious soreness that lasts for nights.

Toji’s physical presence was undeniably imposing and large, that alone makes you feel like a delicate trinket, one treasured and protected. Yet, paradoxically, the way he handled you was anything but delicate. His hands, strong and calloused, held a certain roughness that spoke of a life lived on the edge, battle-hardened and weathered. He folds your body as though you were a ragdoll— regardless of your size.

When he’s gone for days on end, you find yourself yearning for his fulfillment— no hand or toy will satisfy you the way he does. Toji’s ruined sex for you.

Toji withheld affection from you whether it was intentional or not. So when he did praise you it felt as though you were a pretty princess— chemically altering your pretty little brain more than a little bit.

He often kept his emotions locked away, leaving you hesitant of where you stood in his heart. The lack of affection was a constant ache, leaving you yearning for even the smallest crumbs of his praise. Yet, when those rare moments arrived, it felt like a euphoric rush, flooding your mind with a mix of serotonin and dopamine.

His praise, though infrequent, had an intoxicating effect on you. It was like soaring to the highest of heavens, as if the whole universe had aligned in your favor. In those fleeting instances, self-doubt dissolved, and you basked in the warmth of his approval, feeling valued and cherished.

But the hesitation lingered, a cloud of doubt that never fully dissipated. You wondered if his praises were genuine or merely an act of throwing a dog a bone, a way to keep you satiated so you wouldn���t throw one of your fits. The chemistry of emotions within you danced between soaring highs and daunting lows, creating a rollercoaster of feelings you couldn’t control.

You found yourself seeking those rare moments of praise like an addict craving their next fix, yearning for his validation and acceptance. The intoxicating mix of emotions left you captivated and vulnerable, making it hard to see beyond the haze of his allure and your love goggles. You chose to believe a ring is on it's way at the end of the day.

“You did a good job today, lovebug.” “Really?” “Mm.”

And you jump, just like a lap dog. But don’t feel bad, I would too if I had a man as fine as Toji. Woof. ♡