#seeds of doubt in love's garden

[stargirl1331]

If you wrote me

Would you write me with care?

Would you be gentle in how you sculpted your words?

I hope you know

that every time I write you,

I trace my fingers softly through memories

Plucking carefully the moments I use

I can only write you gently.

If you drew me

Would it show me true?

Would a face appear in the spaces between strokes?

Every time

I try to draw you

I cannot continue to move the pen

to form the face I remember but cannot see

I don’t remember the color of your eyes

I wonder if you think of me how I think of you

I wonder if you think of me

I hope you do

- do you remember, original poem by C

[zomgcaleb]

time of the month

-`♡´- synopsis — based on this drabble, extra blurb at the end.

-`♡´- tags — bunnyhybrid!xavier, bunny rut cycle, m!masturbation, xavier stealing your clothes, panty sniffing, pillow humping, mutual pining, scent kink, spitting (once), mating press, handjob, oral f!receiving, overstimulation (?), multiple orgasms m!receiving, xavier calls you master, cockwarming, biting, breeding kink, aftercare, whiny!xavier, kinda pathetic!xavier, sex with feelings, porn with plot, love bombs, marking, premature ejactulation, xavier passes out (he's fine), dom!xavier, tummy bulge, creampie, unprotected p in v sex (be safe please)

minors do not interact — 18+ only!!

wc — 6.2k

quick context — male bunnies typically lose consciousness temporarily after ejaculation

notes — not proofread!! i haven’t written a fic like this in quite a while, so i hope it’s somewhat coherent and you enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it ^^

He could feel it. It wasn’t far away. The blood in his veins felt like fire. An invincible flame that nothing could quell… except…

You were none the wiser of this ordeal, hacking away at the vegetables you’re preparing for the soup you’re making for dinner.

Xavier bounced his leg to the rhythm of his thoughts. You’d surely be getting suspicious by now, about the stains on your pillows. His heart plummeted when you confronted him about it, the limp pillow case dangling from your fingers. To his fortune, his lucky stars, you begin to ramble about a supposed leak in the ceiling. ‘I knew our insulation was getting bad but not that bad’ you’d told him. The relief he felt came in strong intense waves and in blew a high he carried for days. You’d hadn’t caught him yet.

You’d hadn’t caught him so he can do it again.

But his streak soon ends when you came home from work early one day and a strange knock sounded at the door. It was a maintenance worker. A maintenance worker who took a look at your insulation systems and said they were perfectly fine.

A maintenance worker who just replanted the seed of doubt in Xavier’s garden of ecstasy. How was he supposed to spend his ruts without his only outlet? Now that he thinks hard about it, they’ve been lasting longer and longer. It seems his makeshift methods have grown stale.

Maybe he should pretend to run away. No, that’s stupid. Maybe he’ll come up with a distraction…But, what kind of rouse would last a whole week?

Xavier shakes his head to calm his racing heart and huffs dejectedly. He listens to calming sounds of your kitchen tools clanking softly and with a twitch of his ear his eyes shoot open.

Maybe… he can convince you it was your idea.

He’s seen the way you look at him when you think he can’t see you. He’s noticed the glimmer in your eye when you take care of him. He’s even noticed the way you touch him, or rather, that places you touch. If he thinks hard enough he can still remember the feeling of your fingertips on his neck as you checked his temperature after his last rut. You’d been so worried he’d shut himself away and his chest tightened painfully at your confession that night.

You’d thought you’d done something to upset him.

He can’t let things go how they are for much longer.He’s starting to make you doubt yourself.

It ultimately comes down to two outcomes. None being good. You either find out of his naughty endeavors eventually, or his long, grueling, unsatisfying ruts will give him away anyway.

His brows crease in distaste.

Before he can spiral anymore into his rabbit hole you call him sweetly from the dining room. Dinner was ready.

He was certain now. Or at least more certain than he was.

You both sat at the table to eat, like you normally would. However he couldn’t shake the feeling of a watchful eye…like usual. He tried not to make anything of it really. He was a bunny hybrid. His fluffy ears were hard to miss. But due to his earlier turmoil he paid closer attention this time. To what you were looking at.

He was wearing a rather old t shirt. It’s been out through the wringer a number of times, used for various activities like painting, cleaning. Whatever you wouldn’t want on a shirt you actually like.

He was doing laundry last week when he noticed the collar had been snagged. Not enough to really make him think to throw it away but it wasn’t too noticeable... Except since now that he wears it, it sags pitifully below his collarbones.

You definitely noticed.

He’d trailed your wandering eyes through his peripherals right to his neck. At first he wasn’t sure what to do with his finding. It wasn’t until he finally looked over at you that your eyes meet and he sees a glint of something.

Of want. Of desire. The same one he has when you bend down in front of him…or when you lick the batter off the spatula and moan in delight..or when he smells your perfume in the bathroom after you’ve left for work…

It was then, he knew exactly what to do.

The tests started small. A fleeting touch here, a lingering stare there, hugs that last for a little too long. But it wasn’t enough. Not to make you crack.

He needed to get you to act first. And quick. It wasn’t until his skin starts to burn deliciously when you touched him and his brain starts to fog with—indecent—thoughts of you that he gets his rude awakening.

His rut was coming, and fast. He needed to up the ante somehow.

He lays helplessly in his bed. His body suffering from a heat wave all too familiar. It was faint, few and far inbetween but its effects showed no mercy. His hands clutched a shirt you’d gotten together at a new park stand that sold lemonade. It was a grand opening souvenir you’d gotten from the tender and you’d been so happy with it. It was big on you, too big. You’d both shared a laugh at the time when you slipped it over your top and it draped down to your knees.

The graphic was stupid and hard to look at. He thinks if he thought hard enough he’d be able to come up with something better. Something less of an eyesore.

But right now…he couldn’t seem look away.

He’d waltzed into your room the next day with innocent intent, trying to find a pen to finish the grocery list, when he saw the crumbled yellow fabric of it tangled in the sheets of your bed. He held it up, chuckling as he reminisced. But before he could put it down he gets a whiff of you. Your perfume, your deodorant, the conditioner you use; it even smelt faintly of him. It was enough for him to take it.

And now, it was clutched tightly between his fingers, sniffing wildly at the ugly fabric as each wet schlick of his other hand filled the room. His breath hitched softly, his voice catching in his throat. The smell of you was faded and weaker than before as it’d been a while since it’s left his bed, but it still quelled the heat growing in his core nonetheless.

If he closed his eyes he could picture your hand instead of his, gripping his weeping cock tightly—possessively. He’d be so pliant, yielding to your every word yet you’d tease him anyway.

“Please….” Xavier wheezed. His voice was strained and rightfully so. His cock bobbed against his abs, demanding attention with his angry pink tip. Spurts of pre-cum glisten against the ambient lights of his room.

He wants to touch you. His hands need to grip and kneed at your hips—at your waist, to fondle what ever he can reach and burn the feeling into memory. He’s so tired of looking longingly from a distance. To not be able to have you whenever he wants.

Oh, how he’s wanted to kiss you sweetly before bed every night. Or hold you from behind to nuzzle into your neck, only to bite softly into the juncture of your shoulder. You’d gasp in surprise, so cute and helpless pressed against him like that.

“Hah…“ Xavier’s hips thrust into his hand. Faster. Tighter. His hands start to get sweaty and his hair sticks to his forehead. He was already so close, the rising heat of his orgasm was only getting stronger and his stomach drops.

With a long lingering sniff of your shirt he presses it to his tip as his cock twitches. A groan rumbles in his throat as hot white ropes erupt into the fabric, soaking it almost completely. He chants your name softly, mumbling to himself as he fucks himself through his high; his thrusts slow and he hums at the warm feeling of cum coating his fingers. The once vibrant yellow turns into a muddy mustard variant and he only stares down at it with a glaze over his eyes.

It’s ruined…looks like he’ll have to borrow another one.

Xavier sighs. His ears are flopped over his pillows and his tail flicks behind him.

What can he do to occupy your head like you do his? How can he get under your skin?

Under… your skin…

Well, if you liked his ogling his neck, you should like this, right?

He’d woken up the next morning and did his usual routine—with a slight tweak. Brushing his teeth, making his bed, changing out of his pajamas…Only this time instead of digging around in his drawer and throwing on the first feel of soft cotton up and over his head, he just…didn’t.

He was shirtless and shivered at the unfamiliar breeze of the cold AC against his chest before strolling out into the hallway.

-`♡´-

It was almost as if he’d developed an estranged allergy to wearing a shirt the next two days.

You’d wondered what the sudden interest in this behavior was considering Xavier wasn’t exactly the type to do such a thing so excessively. Not to mention bunnies were prone to temperature change and if anything it made you worry. It didn’t last long enough for you to ask about it but you kept it in mind.

You kept in mind the sleek curves of his collarbones…and the ripples of his back when he rolled his shoulders— the dip of his back to the twitch of his cute little cotton tail.

But mostly his unusual behavior, of course…

You’d thought that maybe it was just a fleeting habit, something that would show its head for a bit before going dormant.

Well it didn’t.

It was movie night. The one night out of the week that was designated for the both of you to relax, unwind, to make up lost time with each other. And relax you did—until you didn’t.

You’d hadn’t even managed to sink into the couch properly before Xavier walks over to you, casual as ever, dressed so non-casually.

The obvious bulge in his sweats was staring at you through the whole movie. You tried not to make eye contact but the act was almost impossible. You wanted to look. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. However, that didn’t stop your cheeks from heating, or quell your racing heart at the thought that…you could just.. grab it. What kind of owner would that make you though? Taking advantage of your sweet bunny? You worry your lip in between your teeth as you move to sit on your hands.

You didn’t want him to shut himself away. Again. You went a whole week without seeing him and it crushed you. You hated it. So you keep a comfortable distance in hopes that you won’t upset him.

This was only the beginning.

Eventually it got to the point where he’d walk around in nothing but a towel every night after his bath. His actions seemed more deliberate after a while.

He’d hold your hips to slide past you in the kitchen. he’d lean over you and peer at you from above with those beautiful blue eyes when you sat on the couch. He’d sit and watch an episode of your favorite show next to you, legs spread and skin still glistening with water.

It wasn’t until tonight that he’d seemed to have had enough.

“Why won’t you touch me?”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise and you start to choke on your own spit. You shove your bookmark in the book you were reading and practically toss it onto the table by the couch.

You clear your throat with a curt grunt before facing him with teary eyes. “Xavier, what are you talking about?”

He stands there, looking down his nose at you with an unreadable expression. His eyebrows are scrunched and he can’t quite seem to meet your eyes, opting to stare at a spot on the floor. It was extremely mundane compared to you.

“It’s…I’m so..hot.” He whispers. His fingers twitch at his sides.

You soon wear a look of concern. Now that you’re looking at him his chest is heaving a little heavier than normal. His forehead shines faintly with a sheen of sweat and you tilt your head confused.

“What do you mean? What’s the matter?” When he doesn’t answer right away you shift to the edge of the couch and widen your knees, just enough for him to fit through. You sit up straight and pat your lap. “C’mere.”

Hesitantly, he sinks down to his knees before you, nestling in between yours with his hands in his lap. He sneaks a glance at you but quickly turns away.

You press the back of your hand just above his eyebrows. “You are hot…” you trail off. Before you think to stop yourself, you drag your hand along his neck and he flinches. You retract your hand as if it had been burned. “…and flustered.” You whisper. “Is that why you’ve been acting so weird lately? Are you getting sick?”

Xavier sighs. “It seems…I am.” His velvety voice echoes throughout the living room and suddenly the air feels hard to breathe. His hands move from his lap to trail his fingertips up your calves. When he reaches your knees his fingers draw petite patterns along your knee caps. “But…there’s only one way to take care of me when I’m this way.”

Finally, he meets your eyes and you see it. He looks hazy, almost drunk off the tension that swells in the room. Your breath becomes shaky and you feel like you can’t move. Probably because, you can’t. Not anymore.

Xavier’s hands rest beside your hips and he rises, slowly, almost predatory. If the situation had been less intimate, you’d laugh at the irony. All you can do right now is stare at him in anticipation and you start to lean back instinctively as he gets closer. Your elbows catch you as collapse under him.

Your gaze flickers down to his shirtless torso but you look away shamefully. Xavier’s fingers quickly grip your jaw and turn you to face him. Your noses are almost touching and his eyes bore into yours with something desperate.

His warm minty breath hits your face when he speaks. “You seem to know all about how to deal with bunnies, right? Then…” he takes your wrist in his grip and spreads your palm over his chest, “you don’t need any hints?” He keeps his gaze level with yours and he starts to push your hand. Down, down, down. You feel the divot between his pecs and soon the ridges in his abs. It wasn’t long before you were dangerously close to the waistband of his abnormally low pajama pants. Ones that appeared to have a suggestive tent growing in them.

Before you can reach it you resist against him, your arm twitching to pull away. He stops but he doesn’t let go of your wrist.

“Xavier you..w-we can’t.” You try to contain the way your body warms at his ministrations yet, your voice is breathless as if it was punched out of you.

You startled slightly when his knees hit the floor, his body shakes and crumples into your lap. He talks before you can.

“Why?” His voice was deep, deeper than you’d ever heard it and firm, albeit shaky in his current unfamiliar condition. “Why—Why won’t you…” his breath is heavy against your thighs and his back heaves with every inhale.

Your eyes are wide in surprise. Your eyebrows crinkle when you suddenly remember something, something you’d buried inside your head a long time ago when you first looked into homing a hybrid like Xavier. It was a notice that warned new partners of… particular seasonal behaviors. It clicks in your head and your hand hovers over Xavier’s head reluctantly.

“Xavier, are you…in some sort of heat?”

His body jolts and you feel something hard brush against your legs. It’s as if the dam breaks and he keens loudly at the feeling. He tries to catch his breath to reply. “I—hah—I want you to make it go away. Please...” His big, glassy blue eyes look up at you and your body gets shocked with arousal. “…Master.” You gasp quietly and feel the heat flare in your core. You fidget slightly in his grasp. Is this really happening?

You reach out to him and cup his cheek, an innocent gesture, but the second he feels your touch it’s like he can’t live without it. He shoves his face into your palm and his lips part to moan. His hips start to pick up a languid rhythm as he humps against you.

“I tried so hard to get your attention. You didn’t reach out to me, not once. Didn’t even look at me.” Xavier shakes his head frantically. His thrusts get firmer and rock with intent before coming to a jarring halt. His head drops from your hand and the tips of his bangs tickle your thighs. “Do you…regret bringing me here?”

You grip his face and lift his head up to face you. You use your fingers to scrunch his lips into a small pout. You lean down and press them into yours, kissing him with a longing you’ve held for a while. You hoped he could feel it. He groans sweetly and you separate with a soft smack. “Xavier I could never regret you. I wanted to touch you I just.. I didn’t want you to think I was taking advantage of you.”

He perks up at this, looking up questioningly at your confession. You shake your head dismissively and smile before pecking his forehead, letting go of his face to push coaxingly against his shoulder. “Switch with me. Let’s take care of you, bunny. Yeah?”

His breath hitches in his throat and he groans, eyes squeezing shut to nod aggressively. He quickly takes your spot and now it’s you who’s leaning over him, plopping down to sit on his thighs. You take a moment to truly breathe him in. Xavier was a gorgeous man. Even now with the new and unfamiliar shift in your dynamic, this was the first time you could truly admire him. No sneaking glances or peeking through cracks in the doors, or staring at him through photos you’ve taken together. And this time, he’s actually looking back at you, with the same feverish want.

You start with his ears. They’ve been bobbing on top of his head, standing proud as if begging for attention. You couldn’t help yourself when you reach up to touch them, gently grazing and caressing the fluffy outer shell, just the way he likes. He grunts and you feel his hips stutter. His hands quickly find purchase on your thighs and you feel his fingers dig into you firmly.

You glance down at the sizable bump that sits right below his waistband. It throbs angrily as if trying to escape its confines, trying to get to you. His eagerness is really turning you on.

Your eyes drag up, and up, past the faint veins under his belly button and the chiseled creases of his stomach. Right to his collarbones. You salivate at the thought of finally being able to take the soft, almost porcelain skin into your mouth and ruining it with pretty, red and purple splotches—like you’ve always imagined.

Your eyes settle on his face and dark, half lidded eyes look back at you. His long lashes flutter with anticipation and he tries hard to keep himself from squirming.

However, the second you dip down to take the skin between your lips, he blows caution to the wind. You sink your teeth into the junction between his neck and shoulder and he whimpers. Right into your ear. The sound rings through your ears and clouds your brain, and you don’t register the way you start to bounce at first. It was the pitchy moans and cries that sounded soon after that snapped you out of your haze.

His hips start to buck, searching for something, anything, to tame the heat in his abdomen. He groans with frustration when he realizes you’re sitting too far back and grinding against the fabric of his pajamas is not enough. Your name flows from his mouth in a sickly sweet plead.

You hum into his neck and lick over the mark tenderly, giving it a firm suck before you grab his hips and press them down into the couch.

“Be still, baby. Let your Master claim you. You want that, right?” You purr, choosing another spot to nip the skin between your teeth. He nods, wrapping his arm around your waist while the other trails up your back to tangle his fingers in your hair. Every suck, every lick made him twitch but he endured it. You finally pull back and he looks dazed. His cheeks are red and flushed, and there’s red marks littering his lip where he’s sunk his teeth into it.

Before you can act he thrusts forward, smashing his lips into yours. His hands come to cup and hold your face as he leans back, taking you with him. Your hands are spread over his chest for stability as he devours you and swallows the noises you make. He tugs at the hem of your shirt and you pull away to rip it off, tossing it somewhere on the other end of the couch.

“So pretty…” he mumbles, softly palming the lacy fabric of your bra. He leans forward to kiss the peaks of your boobs before trailing sloppy open mouth kisses up your neck to your jaw. You sigh, dragging one of your hands down his torso, to hook into his pants. With a swift tug you pull them down and tuck them under his balls, his cock slouches from its own weight to rest on his stomach.

You curse at the sight of him. It was smooth like the rest of him. The head was a pretty pink, glistening in so much pre you start to wonder if he’d cum already at some point. You take him in your hand and immediately his head is thrown back. He arches towards you, a whimper on the tip of his tongue. Thanks to his leaky tip it easy for your hand to glide against his length. It soon leaks over the top of your fingers and you bite your lip at the feeling.

“Mmm. S…Stroke me faster, Angel. Please.” He whines breathlessly, his chest heaves violently with every breath and his thighs shake and tense. “Faster, faster, faster…” you follow his instruction, your grip tightening and all that fills the room is the naughty shlicks and moans coming from Xavier. “Yes. Thankyouthankyouthankyou.”

Finally, finally. He feels your soft skin touch him like this. It was euphoric. The tension in his core was about to snap and he had no time to prepare. This was so much better than what a pillow could give him, or a shirt. His eyes roll back under his eyelids and he can’t seem to shut up. Your hands slide and grope at his chest and he feels an overwhelming rush of adrenaline that he can’t ignore. With what strength he has he hoists himself up to nuzzle into your neck, huffing the sweet scent of you and pressing heated kisses to wherever he could reach. Between the pace you’re going and the weight of you on top of him he’s going to blow his load. Right now.

His body goes rigid and his hand flies up to grip your wrist. “Don’t stop. I—I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum—m’cumming.” His cock was hot to the touch and pulsed aggressively in your hand. White runny ropes of cum stream out and down his tip, running over your fingers to pool at his base. He continues to writhe and wiggle, thrusting into the comfort of your hand through his orgasm.

You loosen your grip when he starts to grunt, giving one last stroke before it flops between you. It was…still hard. As a rock.

Suddenly you feel as though you’re about to fall backwards. Your legs hug his waist and your arms are thrown around his neck. Xavier props you up in his arm and hold you close with the other. “Hold on to me.” He whispers.

You nod, placing a soft kiss just below his chin. He hums, rubbing your back soothingly with his thumb and placing soft pecks of his own against the span of your neck.

Soon your back hits the soft padding of your bed and you grab at Xavier to follow suit. You pull him into sweet kiss and you both hum in delight, Xavier shifts from where he lays comfortably on top of you, pinning you to the mattress.

“I really want to taste you, Angel. May I?” He sits up on his forearms and litters your face with kisses. Kissing your eyes, your nose, your cheeks, your temples. You giggle and his heart sings at the noise.

“Yes, bunny.”

He sighs softly, pressing a final kiss to your lips before he sinks down. His lips kiss and lick down your navel to the start of your pajama shorts. He hooks his fingers into the elastic and pulls, tossing them to the side. All that’s left is your panties. They’re a beautiful light blue with lace trim with a cute little bow on top. He thanks his lucky stars for this moment. You looked like some kind of sexy present for him to unwrap. Only for him.

He groans at the wet patch right in the middle. Right where the entrance of your cute little cunt was. Just leaking, begging for him.

“It’s for you.” You call out. He looks up at you through his lashes and the view is burned into brain. You’re bashful now, having being spread open for him like this. Your face is flushed and the curves of your body align perfectly in this angle.

He curses to himself, opting to caress the skin of your inner thighs with his lips. He stops and glances at you again with those deep blue eyes. “I think…” another kiss, “it’s only fair to give you some of my marks as well.” He happily decorates your thighs with purple marks of his own, even forming one into the shape of a heart. You moan dreamily, trying to fight off the urge to close your legs around his head already.

He shoves his nose deeeep into your panties, inhaling deeply at the scent of your arousal. His ears twitch above him and you can even see his tail wag briefly.

“You smell so good. Mm.” He nuzzles into your cunt and his nose catches your clit. It was also mindnumbing how sensitive you were. You jolt with a gasp and your thighs threaten to close on him but he wraps his arms under your legs to keep them apart. His fingers make dents in the soft skin, the sight was erotic.

He places a few more kisses to your cunny before licking a fat stripe right down the middle. Your hips buck at the stimulation but it wasn’t quite enough. You pout down at him. “Don’t tease me, Xavier.”

He chuckles, so quiet it was almost to himself you think. “You got to have your fun. Now I’ll have mine.” He gives your clit a sloppy kiss and pulls your panties to the side. Your slick clings to crotch, seeming as if it didn’t want to let go but it finally pops off, connected by hypnotizing strings.

Xavier groans and wastes no more time. His lips wrap around your clit and suck, your back arches off the bed in ecstasy. Hot waves of heat shoot through your limbs and you keen at him, reach down to card your fingers through his hair and rub at his ears. He moans into your cunt and the vibrations make you shiver.

“You feel—hn—so good.” You cry out shakily. Your hands tighten their grip against his scalp and he grunts, the bed started to wobble as he bucks against the mattress. You feel a pop in your lip as you bite it, the faint taste of copper fills your mouth. His tongue moves up and down in a steady pace, catching and swirling around your hard bud. The tip of it teases the rim of your entrance before easing in, your legs resist and against his grip to close but to no avail.

“You’re so pretty. So pretty, Angel.” He slurs. “Think of you spread for me like this when I touch myself. Love how your body squirms, just from my mouth.”

He spits on cunt and uses it to glide across your clit in quick circles.

“I need you, I need you so bad.” Xavier kisses around your labia tenderly only to dive back in, swallowing whatever he’s able to take from you.

“Xavier, baby, please.” Your hips grind in tangent with his face and you feel your eyes cross. One of your hands moves from his silky strands to grip the sheets instead.

“Gonna cum for me, Master? Give it to me. Let me have it, let your bunny have it—please.” His thrusts start to stutter and he whimpers. His hand leaves your thigh to grab yours, untangling your fingers from the sheets to intertwine them with his own. “Cum for me so I can fill you up.”

Your core tightens and snaps all at once. With a wanton moan you arch into mouth, squeezing his hand to ground you. He squeezes back, eyes fluttering shut as he erupts into your pretty bedsheets.

The room is filled with heavy panting and soft groans. You sounded so good together.

You’re still basking in your afterglow when Xavier sits up, climbing over you with a new glint in his eye. You glance down to see his raging erection is still seeking satisfaction.

“Angel, I need to be inside of you. Please, sweetheart open.” He grabs at your legs that lay limp between his and his hands under your knees to throw them over his shoulders. His brows furrow at the burning sensation of his skin. The tip of his cock kisses the soft plush of your entrance and he looks at you, swooping down to take your lips as his hips push forward.

You’ve never felt so full than you do now, the walls of your wet cunt cling to his cock like a lifeline. You moan into each other at the stretch, his hands once again searching for yours, desperate to ground himself to you like and anchor at sea. His mind is lost in you and only you can find him.

His touches are firm but gentle. He works you open, taking in every jolt and twitch of your body. The feeling he was chasing was finally his, the warm suction of your pussy was slowly taming the fire that lit his bones. His voices catches in his throat.

He needed more. More more more more.

Xavier pulls away from your lips with a soft smack but he doesn’t stray far, he leans forward to touch his forehead to yours and your breaths combine.

“H-How do you feel, does it hurt?”

You shake your head firmly. “Good. Can feel you…” you grab his wrist and drag it over you, pressing his palm flat against your stomach. “Right here.”

“Shit.” Xavier feels the push and pull of his cock inside you, and his jaw drops at the revelation that every inch of him has been accepted by you. He’s touching parts of you that no one else will ever come close to and it makes him crazy.

“Go faster.” You whine, hooking your heels into his lower back. “I can take it, bunny, promise. Use me to feel better.” You coo at him.

“But I want this to be special.” His pace picks up and you see a line a drool start to spill over his lip. “Love you. I love you…loveyouloveyouloveyou—“

He attacks your neck, licking and sucking colorful spots in places he knows you can’t hide. He wants people to see. See that you’ve been ravished in a way they can only dream of. At the end of the day, you’ll come home to him and he wants everyone to know it.

It doesn’t take long for his thrusts to become damning, forcing you into the mattress only for your cunt to bounce back up at him, taking him deeper than before.

“Yes!” You squeal, pawing and scratching at his back. “I love you, Xavier! I love you...”

Your name falls from his mouth pitifully, a cry you respond to by peppering his face with small pecks. Your hands fall to cradle his face and your eyes snap shut as your walls clench around him.

“Say you’re mine. Tell me.” He pleads his hands knead your waist and you’re sure you might bruise tomorrow.

“I’m yours! Only yours. Forever and ever.”

His eyes open to gawk at your sweat covered bodies and he watches his cock disappear inside you. A rubber band is forming in the pit of his stomach and his breath hitches.

“Mine. My angel. Gonna fill you up. Gonna give you a big pretty litter. You’d want that, right? I’ll fill your cute cunt whenever you want. Keep you nice and happy and full. Full of me.”

Your mouth hangs open as loud moans escape your throat. His hand comes up to dig into your cheeks and pries your mouth open wider.

Tuah.

A wet blob coats your tongue and your teary eyes open to meet his. The look he gives you sends an intense warmth down your spine.

“Swallow.” Xavier releases you and you close your mouth, shuddering as it travels down your throat. “Good girl. So so good. I knew you’d be perfect for me.”

You whine, touching his chest, his shoulders, his arms, trailing your hands down his hard torso. He coos at the feeling of your fingertips gliding over his hot skin. He takes your hand and flattens it on the left side of his chest. His heart beats against your palm as if it wants to kiss it itself.

“D’you feel it? I’m yours. Master.” His thrusts start to lose rhythm and he pants heavy, using his free hand to rub frenzied circles on your clit. “Please, cum. I want to feel it.”

Your core pulses at his words as if they were the last thrush of water before the dam breaks. And break it does. You clutch him tightly, pulling him down to smash his chest against yours and the synchronizing of your heartbeats comforts you through your high.

Your cunt contracts and twitches violently, and with a long drawn out groan, Xavier shoves his cock as deep as it can go. His cum is hot like lava and you moan as it fills every crease, every crevice, every ridge and nook it can claim.

Finally his hips come to a still and he drops your legs to wrap around his waist, before the full brunt of his weight relaxes into you.

There was a comfortable silence, the sounds of your fatigued breaths filled your ears and you hum. Your fingers run through Xavier’s sweaty hair and you kiss the crown of his head. He nuzzles weakly into your neck.

“You okay, bunny?” You wince at rasp in your voice before peering down at him. His chest has slowed significantly and he’s… really heavy.

“Xavier.” You call out again, using your shoulder to jostle him. Your heart skips in concern when he doesn’t answer and with what strength you have left you rock back and forth enough to flip the both of you over. You quickly balance yourself on his lap, and clench slightly. He was still nestled warmly inside you.

Your hands take to his face, poking and prodding, trying anything to get a reaction. Eventually, his eyelids flicker and he opens his eyes albeit slowly. You sigh in relief and he turns to look at you. He props himself up his elbows, giving you a delicate Eskimo kiss.

He hums. “We’ll have to try this position next time.” His cock had softened a good while ago now, but he still grinds up into you, soft and teasing.

Your face flushes at his vulgarity. How can he say something like that in such a casual tone? You decide to ignore it. “Y-You had me so worried. What happened? Are you okay?” You whisper.

“I’m sorry I worried you, Angel. I’m okay. It’s common for bunnies like me.” His eyes squint cutely and he yawns. “M’sleepy.”

You smile and lean down to press a lazy kiss to his lips. “I’m sure you are, stud. Don’t fall asleep just yet, we gotta clean up.”

He groans reluctantly, but hops to his feet with you in tow. You yelp at the burst of energy and giggle as he blows small raspberries into your neck, carrying you into your—shared—master bathroom.

extra —

You wake up to soft chirps of your name and groggily open your eyes. The sky was still dark but the sun had just started to rise, casting the room into a light cool blue.

“Xavier? Whas’ wrong?” You whisper. Your eyes shoot open when you feel something hard poke into your ass.

He grunts as his hips jerk against you. “M’sorry m’sorry I..I’m really hot.”

This was going to be a long weekend.

-`♡´- tag list — @froleineeeee @hitorim106 @silverbrain

[remi-harbinger]

When SJ first joined the sect he was been petty in ways that made complete sense to him and not to anyone else at all. He whispered answers to the people that get called on because he thought that it was the height of embarrassment to accept help from others. He'd be internally giggling at the thought of the turmoil going on in The Damned's minds and they'd just flash him a relieved grin and repeat the answer word for word. He's so confused he tries it out every single class. He gets a reputation for being There For You, and now people start coming to him with their problems.

He's hit with an epiphany. Yes. He's managed to manipulate them into trusting him. He doesn't know how but he's not going to doubt it. With this, half the sect become his personal bodyguard/shadows. When he started sneaking to Warm Red Pavilion a shijie saw him and instead of spreading nasty rumours etc etc she sat down with him and coaxed him into telling on why he wanted to go (he said its bc they need medicines and he technically isnt lying!)

So now he has yet another layer to his reputation. He's the xianxia version of Florence Nightingale, bringing love light and happiness to the unfortunate. (SJ doesn't even care at this point as long as no one stops him he can bear with the people coming up to him and going on and on about how he's righteous)

When he was reading and a bird landed on his hand (he wove the type of seeds that birds like into his little bracelet because he thought they were pretty), instead of people saying he cultivates the demonic path, disciples started whispering about how Head Disciple Shen is so beautiful that birds and butterflies follow in his footsteps. Okay, so maybe one time the shijie's wove him a flower crown and he put it on and the butterflies got attracted to the flowers. He was in a FLOWER GARDEN. There were SO MANY available flowers why?? just why??

Everyone (Liu Qingge) is convinced that SJ is some secret flower nymph that's sent to... steal sect secrets or something... Anyways the conclusion is that he absolutely!!! must !!! hang around SJ to ensure that he doesn't do anything wrong!!! And to keep suspicion away he has to bring increasingly elaborate and beautiful gifts of course!!! Yue Qingyuan why are you coming closer yue qingyuan stay awa-

[sonolynn]

Thou Shalt Not Covet.

summary | Aemond loved her first, and it would be Aemond who loved her last.

pairing | Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Fem!Reader

tags | infidelity (cheating), cussing, alludes to smut, mentions of drinking, whores etc (normal Aegon things), typical Targcest, jealous and possive Aemond

w.c | 1.2 k

note(s) | This is my first Aemond fic! I haven't read the books, and have only seen the show so if Aemond is ooc then I'm sorry!

______________________________________________________________

She was his. By the way of his mind she belonged to him. His brother, first to everything and last to nothing, got everything Aemond wished he had. The iron throne, the crown, her. The marriage between her and Aegon was strictly political; there was no love, no affection between the two. If Aemond was honest with himself he liked that, liked how her affection could be saved and harboarded for him only. 

Aegon had his spoils. He had bastards, he had whores, he had wine. He did not need her, nor did Aegon particularly want to have her. But Aemond did. 

Because of Aegon’s particular disdain for his wife, the times that she was left alone and in the confines of her chambers were more than not. On these nights, Aemond would find himself climbing up the stairs, his hands shaking slightly, and his mind racing as the guards opened the door and let him enter his niece's chambers. 

______________________________________________________________

“Uncle.” Her voice rang out over the fire in her chambers, and Aemond felt his heart rate pick up. She held a book in her lap, no doubt trying to wrap her mind around the philosophies written into the texts. Aemond felt himself shiver lightly, the sound of her voice seemingly always doing things to him. 

He said her name softly, and he smiled to himself as he walked over to sit next to her. She smiled, her hand wrapping around his and her voice soft.

“How do you fare?” That is how all of their nights began. The light conversation of “how do you fare?” eventually led to her bed. 

Aemond’s eyes caressed her skin, his hands worshiping her body as his voice sung praises of her victories over his mind, soul, and body. He would not ravish her like his brother did, no. He would worship and glorify her body before him as if she was a temple, he would exalt her pleasure to the highest of highs before he even thought of his. Aemond treated her like a goddess, and she was reminded of this every time her name fell from his lips and his seed spilled inside of her.

When he would finish he wouldn’t leave her to clean up on her own, or fall asleep. He would kiss her body softly, his hands rubbing soothing circles on her back as she came down from her high. He would hold her until she fell asleep in his arms, and in the morning he would wake, admire her body and her face that still shone in the glow of intimacy, before he would dress and leave. 

______________________________________________________________

She liked the garden. She, truthfully, adored the garden. It was, she thought, the only place where she would be free from listening to the moans of Aegon’s whores and the drunken laughs that would escape his lips. 

She found solace in the way the leaves swayed in the wind, the way the sun shone lightly through the cracks of the trees. But, what she truly waited for was Aemond. Once his duties were done he would come into the garden, and they would walk, and talk with one another for what felt like hours. 

On this particular day, the two walked and talked about nothing in particular-just how both of them liked it. But, a pair of seething eyes followed the two as they walked. Angered and betrayed, Alicent turned and walked away.

______________________________________________________________

When Aemond entered his chambers later that night, he was met with the burning gaze of his mother. His face remained stoic, and he slowly started to take off his belt that held his sword. 

“Mother. I did not expect you.” He spoke, his face illuminated by the fire as he sat in a chair, getting comfortable. His mother stood, standing in front of him as she glared down into her son's stoic expression. 

“You do not hide it well.” 

“I do not know what you speak of, mother.” 

Alicent gave Aemond a look, seeing straight through his stoic expression and hardened gaze. 

“You know what I speak of. You covet what is rightfully your brothers-” 

“Rightfully?” At these words, Aemond stood, glaring down at his mother with a complexed expression. “She is not rightfully Aegon’s. She is not rightfully the crowns-”

“She is his by law,” Alicent got right into her son's face, her hand pushing against his chest as she spoke. “By the law of the seven kingdoms she is his! You cannot parade around the castle, promenading as if you are an enthralled teenage boy courting a noble girl! She is married-” 

“You do not think I know what she is, mother? You do not think I see the ring she wears, or the name she bears now as a continuous tie to my brother?” The pain etched into the cracks of Aemond’s voice were subtle but not unnoticed. The way he spoke of his brother's wife with so much undignified and raw emotion made it clear to Alicent what he truly felt. Despite herself she sympathized with her son, trying to take his hands in hers as she spoke. 

“I understand, Aemond, how you feel. But you cannot go about so shamelessly coveting your brother's wife-the queen!” 

Aemond roughy pulled away from his mother, a sharp look hidden behind his amethyst  eyes as he spoke. 

"Do not speak to me as if my sorrows where your own!" Aemond seethed, pulling back a few paces as he glared at his mother, “Aegon is no husband! He may be my brother-my closest kin but he does not know how to properly care for her as I do. I know her mother, I know her wants, her desires, I know her more than Aegon has ever even tried to comprehend so damn all the gods and fuck Aegon because I would soon rather feed myself to Daemon’s dragon then let a man like Aegon sew his seed into her and ruin the beautiful women that the gods have given to me!”

The words coming out of her son’s mouth shocked Alicent. She never knew him to be so passionate about something-someone-so fiery as, gods be good, his brother’s wife. 

“Aemond she was never yours-” 

“She was,” his voice dropped and he stepped closer to his mother, breathing down as he glared, “The gods gave her to me, they made her for me! Her body was made to fit with mine, her soul was mine to know! Mother, it was all for me! But you? You are the one who gave her away to my brother. You are the one who took her from me.” 

Wishing for no more of this, Aemond turned, feeling himself breaking a little as he went. He knew he would never be hers, that she would never truly be his. 

______________________________________________________________

“You are troubled tonight.” 

She knew him better than he knew himself. Aemond’s head rested on her lap, her hand gently stroking through his platinum white hair. He breathed out slowly, his thumb idly stroking her knee. 

“I am thinking, sweet girl.” 

“I know that you are thinking, I just wish to know what it is you are thinking about.” 

At this he went silent. He knew no matter what lie he told her that she would always know the truth between the lies. So, instead, he sat up slowly and he gripped her cheek, kissing her softly. As if the words would be lost, and the meaning behind them burned. He made love to her like she was truly his, like she was his wife. As if..she wasn't even able to be coveted.

______________________________________________________________

[temiizpalace]

Ooh, maybe #6 with the tweels for the new event?

☆┊FIGHT ME. LIKE, ACTUALLY. (🦈 vs🐬)

SUMMARY: IT SEEMS THE ONLY WAY TO WIN YOUR LOVE WAS WITH A NICE SOLID QUICK LEFT HOOK TO THE JAW! (THEY FIGHT).

CHARACTERS: floyd leech vs. jade leech

EVENT MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: no determined end couple, jealousy, violence (punching and stuffs), minor blood

NOTES: leech twins fight is crazy. i appreciate you, anon. thank you for your request!

reader is g/n, reader is yuu

˚∘☆∘˚

jade was a patient man.

very patient. he’ll wait as long as he has to for something, including your love. he’ll do anything he needs to to win your love. tend to you, defend you, fight for you, serve you, just name it and it’s already done. he knew human courting rituals were far different from those of a moray eels, but he’s oh so willing to learn just for you.

his brother on the other hand..

impatient. if floyd wants something, he wants it then and there. which also includes your love and attention. if you don’t speak to him within 10 seconds of calling your name, he will pout about it and make everyone else’s day horrible. while this was usually where jade got most of his entertainment of the day, knowing his brother chose the same person to be his mate was incredibly irritating.

especially whenever he’s trying to court you. seven forbid..

“prefect, there you are.” jade smiles, standing behind you with a bag in his hands. “hm? oh, hi jade. need something?” you ask, noticing his body language is much more chipper than usual. “i actually have gotten something for you. a token of my gratitude and an invitation of sorts.” he hands you the gift bag, the weight being much heavier than you anticipated.

“woah! what’s in here?” you raise your brow, looking up at jade to ensure this wasn’t some prank. you knew that jade liked stupid jokes as much as his twin, despite his gentlemanly appearance. “you doubt me? how cruel, id never lie to you.” he wipes away a tear, a sad look on his face that was more than obviously fake.

“mhm.” you hum, looking through the bag. there were terrariums, small potted plants, packets of flower seeds, just anything and everything a gardener could hope for. “oh wow.. this is all for me?” you ask, trying to calculate the cost in your head.

“why, certainly. as i said before, this is a token of my gratitude and an invitation. i was wondering if you’d like to—”

“boo! there ya are shrimpyyy!” floyd giggles, wrapping his arms around you tightly. “GAH—! FLOYD, YOU SCARED ME.” you shout in return, unaware of jade’s murderous glare. “just what i was goin for! what’s in the bag?” he asks, already rummaging through it. “floyd.” jade states, his tone stern and slightly annoyed if you listened closely.

“hm? oh it’s from jade ain’t it? probably a ton of terrariums or somethin boring.” floyd scoffs, looking to his brother. jade couldnt help his eyebrow from twitching, finding his twins antics much more annoying than it usually was. normally this would provide entertainment, not fuel to a fire. “well, i think it’s a sweet gesture.” you shrug, fiddling with the handles of the bag.

“whatever. just a buncha leaves.” he mumbles, feeling his jade’s smug expression burning a hole into his head. your phone buzzes in your pockets before jade can comment, your eyes widening as a sign of your concern. “sorry guys, gotta run. grim got his ear stuck in a mousetrap and i don’t even wanna know how.” you sigh, running off with a wave.

the twins stare at each other, the silence awkward for the first time in forever. “alright jade, fess up. i know you’re tryna court the shrimp.” floyd grunts, jade only laughing smugly in response. “let’s not act like you don’t have similar intentions, floyd. you won’t believe how difficult it is if you’re always there to interject.” jade feigns distraught, knowing floyd doesn’t buy it.

“womp womp, not my fault im tryna court em at the same time as you.” he frowns, sticking it his tongue in retaliation. the tensions in the air were high. just stepping into the same room was enough to intimate the bystanders.

their antics continued for the whole day. floyd could come up to you, smiles and all, only for it to be dissipated as jade entered the room and swept you away. same thing for jade. he could be explaining to you the different types of mushrooms from his well tended garden, before sending his brothers presence a moment too late. floyd stomps in, picking you up, and running off. poor you, it’s been like this all week.

“i know you’re going to see em, jade. quit hogging!” floyd whines, shoving his twin out of the way as he tried walking out of the mostro lounge. “i wouldnt have to if you just waited your turn rather than be a thorn in my side.” jade scoffs, pushing his brother off of him. “haah? you askin to be squeezed? been awhile since we fought.” floyd scowls, grabbing his brothers arm.

“oya? id like to see you try.” jade chuckles, grabbing floyd’s in an attempt to toss him to the side. however, he doesn’t go down easily. floyd quickly grabs his brothers hand before he could strike, kneeing him in the stomach harshly. jade winced at the pain, but couldn’t give up now. not when his pearl is on the line.

floyd tries locking him into a hold, but jade was a quick thinker with quick reflexes. he elbows floyd aggressively, kicking him to the ground as he was stunned. floyd drags jade down, letting him hit the cold marble floor. they hit each other against the ground as blood trickled down their noses. floyd had stamina for days, but knew when he hit his limits. he free spirited, not stupid.

red stained the floors as panicking students ran to the board game club in hopes azul would stop this mess. luckily, someone else was able to manage things. “JADE AND FLOYD LEECH, WHAT THE SEVEN IS WRONG WITH YOU TWO?!” the boys stopped in their fighting, turning towards the entrance of the lounge. it was you.

walking towards them with a frown, you separate the two from each other, tutting in disapproval. “what has gotten into you both lately?! all you guys ever do is fight now, i never thought it’d get like this.” you sigh, dragging them both by the hand into the kitchen. “oh my, it’s quite embarrassing for you to see me in such a state.” jade sighs, glaring at his equally beat up twin.

“tell me about it. if only someone didn’t try to rock my shit.” he hissed, wanting to grab at his brother for a second time. “don’t even think about it,” you groan, grabbing the first aid kit from the counters. you sat them onto the barstools outside and began to rub alcohol onto their wounds. bite marks, bruises, scars, scratches, just all kinds of injuries.

“i apologize for having you do this.” jade looks at you apologetically, actually looking genuine for once. “hehe, shrimpy it burns!” floyd giggles as the cotton swab grazed over his cuts. “don’t mention it, but you should probably get some guys to clean up before azul sees the blood on the floor.”

“of course. at your service.” jade smiles, bowing before you jokingly before ruffling your hair. “fineee. cleanings borin but azul forcing me to wait extra tables sounds worse.” floyd sighs, giving you a quick squeeze before grabbing a mop and bucket.

and as if on cue, you could hear azul scream in horror at the mess of his dining hall.

A/N: idk how to fight 🧍🧍

date published: 8/30/24

© temiizpalace — do not copy, steal, or put my work into ai. thank you!

[freyaphoria]

hey luv!! not sure how much are you into 'spanking' but, I was wondering if you would make a reaction of Yan!Matz, Seonghwa catching you escape while Hj is not at home so Hwa spanks you/punishes you?👉👈

I know that Hwa would probably tell Hj but I would really like to see how Seonghwa would punish her😭

(btw i'm in love with ur stories, keep going and take some time to rest🖤)

a/n: When you sent me this request at night, I screamed and started writing at 4 a.m. This request may have opened up my writer's block thank you soooo much♡

Dark Side (partI)

tw: spanking, restriction with ropes, dragging, failed escape attempt, yandere!Seonghwa, hair pulling, kinda force feeding, hurt-comfort, punishment and aftercare, crying

wc: 3.7k

taglist: @aim-blossom @bambisd0ll @oddracha @peqchplvto

part 2 ->

Your hands trembled uncontrollably as you grasped the handle of the back door, your heart pounding with a mixture of fear and anticipation. How could they have been so careless as to leave it unlocked? The realization dawned on you as the cold air rushed in, caressing your face with its crisp touch. You stood there, frozen in disbelief, as the door swung open, revealing the vast expanse of the backyard and the towering pine trees that seemed to stretch endlessly into the horizon. This moment felt surreal, as if you were standing on the precipice of a new reality.

This was the first moment you found yourself so close to freedom. For the first time, you felt that escape was truly within reach, especially with Hongjoong away from the house. In a normal situation, you would have been settled on the couch watching TV while Seonghwa busied himself in the kitchen preparing dinner. But your mind was elsewhere, consumed by thoughts of escaping.

You thought about telling Seonghwa and escaping together. But what he told you yesterday showed that he was gradually deteriorating psychologically, that his admiration for Hongjoong had escalated to a concerning level, one that left you feeling uneasy about his willingness to escape alongside you. Convincing him to leave in that moment felt impossible. Maybe, in a few weeks, you could plant the seeds of doubt in his mind, but right now, it just wasn’t feasible. You simply could not let this opportunity slip away when it was right in front of you. When you came back with the police, you were going to save Seonghwa and put the evil in jail.

With each silent step towards the door, the possibility of freedom made your heart race even faster.Could you truly manage to escape? You had lost track of how long you had been trapped here, and you questioned your ability to readjust to the outside world after such a prolonged period of isolation. All these thoughts filled your veins with more adrenaline, and you could hear your heart beating.

You found yourself standing at the threshold, that thin line separating captivity from liberty. Instinctively, you glanced back, scanning for any sign that Seonghwa might have noticed your absence. You imagined the scenario if he had caught you: his gentle voice calling out, "Angel, come here," followed by report to Hongjoong. But to your relief, there was no sign of him. You were alone, unobserved, with the path to freedom clear before you.

Your foot made contact with the small marble stone at the entrance of the garden, its cold surface sending a shiver through your body, it was a sensation both foreign and familiar. You started to walk quickly and felt that soft grass beneath your feet that you hadn't felt in weeks, maybe months. You moved quickly through the garden, the taste of freedom already filling your spirit. The ability to move without fear, without the looming threat of Hongjoong, was intoxicating. But there was something you missed: The kitchen window looked out onto the backyard.

When Seonghwa saw you speeding through the backyard, he muttered a curse under his breath and quickly left the kitchen. The back door hung wide open, a reminder that he had forgotten to close it when he stepped out earlier to tend to the flowers. Seonghwa was shocked to see you walking past the edge of the yard and heading towards the thick forest nearby. He knew he was in big trouble. The thought of Hongjoong returning home in this moment made his stomach drop; if he found both of you outside, he would kill both of you. Seonghwa knew he had to go after you. Hongjoong had told him to do whatever it took to keep you here while he was gone.

He didn't call out to you, thinking that if he called out to you, you would panic and start running faster. Instead, he ran towards you silently but quickly, his footsteps muffled by the soft grass beneath. Your heart raced in your chest, and your breaths came in quick bursts, anxiety coursing through your veins. In an instant, Seonghwa was upon you. He lunged forward, wrapping his arms around your waist, and with a forceful motion, he threw you down onto the soft grass. The air was knocked from your lungs as you hit the ground, and confusion set in.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Seonghwa's voice was sharp and raw with emotion as he positioned himself over you, pinning your arms to the sides, using his body weight to keep you down. His eyes, normally warm and inviting, now showed both anger and distress, with his messy hair falling over his forehead from the effort of chasing you. The sudden aggression from the usually calm Seonghwa caught you off guard, causing you to instinctively lash out. Your legs flailed wildly as you attempted to kick him off, your mind momentarily confusing him with Hongjoong in your panicked state. "Are you out of your mind?! Did you think you could escape that easily?!" Seonghwa's grip tightened as he shouted, one of his hands released your arm, only to grasp your face roughly, his fingers digging into your cheeks. "Seonghwa, what are you doing?! You’re the one who’s out of your mind!" you cried out, struggling against his iron grip. "Let me go! Your voice grew higher with panic. Seonghwa, out of breath, kept holding you down and grew frustrated trying to make you understand the seriousness of the situation. Your pleas seemed to fall on deaf ears.

"Let you go?" he scoffed, his voice dripping with disbelief. "What do you mean by let you go?" His hand released your face, only to seize your arm once more as he began to forcibly drag you back towards the house. "Don't you understand? You belong to me just as much as you do to Hongjoong. Did you think I’d just let you escape from us?!”

His words hit you like a jolt. You had never witnessed this side of Seonghwa before—so unyielding and forceful—but amidst the chaos, fear for your safety was absent. You thought you still had time before Hongjoong arrived to learn your escape attempt and avoid the fallout, and that Seonghwa would save you from Hongjoong's ruthless punishment. But in that moment, you couldn't have been more wrong.

Your arm throbbed with pain as you struggled against Seonghwa's iron grip, his strength far beyond what you had imagined. "Seonghwa! Please, it hurts!" you cried out, your voice laced with desperation. As he forcefully dragged you across the ground, your clothes caught on the rough terrain, tearing and collecting smears of grass and dirt. "Shut up, you asked for this!" he barked back, his tone sharp and harsh, devoid of any hint of sympathy or concern, as if he were completely indifferent to your suffering.

The journey home was too quick, and you realized you couldn’t get very far. As soon as you reached home, he threw you to the ground, knocking the air out of your lungs. Seonghwa then slammed the door with a force that echoed through the house. You winced, rubbing your sore arm from his tight grip. "I can't believe you," Seonghwa's voice cut through the air, harsh and devoid of its usual warmth. It was as if the gentle Seonghwa you knew had vanished, replaced by a doppelganger channeling Hongjoong's ruthlessness. "I thought I could trust you. I thought I didn't need to watch you 24/7." He closed the distance between you and knelt down, his hand gripping your hair, pulling your head up to meet his gaze. "But I was wrong," he said, his voice heavy with rage. Fear crept into your spine as he hovered over you, in this moment, he seemed even more terrifying than Hongjoong. While Hongjoong's actions were often predictable in their cruelty, Seonghwa now resembled a ticking time bomb, leaving you uncertain of when or how he might explode.

"Seonghwa, why are you so angry—" you began, but he cut you off. “You ran,” he said, tightening his grip on your hair until it became painful. You squirmed, desperate for the agony to cease. “I'm sorry!” you cried out, your hands fumbling to loosen his grip. “I didn’t ask if you were fucking sorry,” he retorted, his tone deeper, more menacing than you had ever heard. Fear began to course through your veins, your heart pounding wildly in your chest.

Seonghwa was thinking about what he would do to you; he stared at you with a stern expression, his mind racing with worries about what could happen next. If he told Hongjoong about your attempt to escape, he would face serious consequences, especially since the escape happened because of his own mistake. He might even risk damaging his relationship with Hongjoong. After a moment of thought, Seonghwa decided it was best to deal with the situation on his own and not inform Hongjoong.

His jaw tightened as he watched you tremble more and more with fear. "Get up," he commanded, finally releasing his grip on your hair. "Hwa-" you started to protest, but he cut you off sharply. "Get up and go to the basement." Your eyes widened in disbelief and fear. The basement? Seonghwa had never before demanded such a thing from you. "What are you saying-" you stammered, only to be interrupted once more. "If you want to keep this from reaching Hongjoong, you'll go to the basement. Now!" he snapped, urgency dripping from his words.

You began a slow, hesitant walk towards the stairs, but Seonghwa's patience had evidently worn thin; he forcefully shoved you down, your feet stumbling to maintain balance as he flung open the heavy metal door. The chill of the basement air hit you like a wall, and the darkness felt heavy.

You dared not speak; his demeanor had changed to someone frightening and dominant, similar to Hongjoong when he's stern. Seonghwa closed the door behind you, the sound echoing loudly, and then grabbed your arm, pulling you toward an old couch in the dimly lit room. With Hongjoong still hours away from returning home, you realized how vulnerable you were. Seonghwa had the power to do whatever he wanted with you during this time, without anyone to stop him or even make a peep about it, sent a shiver down your spine. The basement suddenly felt more stifling than ever, closing in around you as you faced the unknown intentions of this new, frightening version of Seonghwa.

He settled into the couch, an aura of dominance radiating from him. Just as you were about to ask him what he was going to do, he yanked you onto his lap, positioning you face down with his knees pressing into your stomach. "Seonghwa! What the hell do you think you’re doing?" Panic filled your voice, but he was unfazed. In a swift motion, he tore off your already tattered shorts, fabric ripping as though it were paper. The moment you opened your mouth to protest further, he silenced you by crumpling your shorts and stuffing part of them into your mouth. You were taken aback, the fabric blocking your protest. Your hands instinctively went to remove the makeshift gag, but before you could, he seized both of your arms and bound them tightly behind your back with a rope you couldn’t even begin to fathom where he had found it. Now, you found yourself in a vulnerable position—sitting on his lap, face down, your backside fully exposed while your shorts muffled any cries for help. With your arms securely tied, you could do nothing but wait in confusion and dread for whatever he had planned next. The rush of blood to your cheeks was overwhelming as you squirmed, trying to regain some semblance of control, but he had you pinned, and the ropes tightened with every movement you made.

“Let’s get this over with before Hongjoong shows up,” he murmured with a hint of urgency, “I can’t have him finding out it was my fault the door was left open.” With that, he grasped the sides of your panties, adjusting them with a deliberate slowness that sent shivers down your spine, fully revealing your exposed skin. You wriggled slightly, desperation creeping in, but his grip was unyielding, and he quickly absorbed your resistance. His warm hand glided across your backside, gently at first, before suddenly delivering a sharp slap that echoed off the walls of the room. A muffled scream escaped your mouth as the pain shot through you—both a shock and a burn that lingered. He began to rub the spot he had just slapped, the gentle caress contrasting harshly with the sting. Each time you attempted to shift away, he would pull you back down into position, maintaining control over you.

“Hongjoong won't know about your little escape attempt or that I’m punishing you. Do you understand?" His words were firm, filled with a mix of warning and authority. The heat of embarrassment surged up your neck and across your face as you tried to understand what was happening. It was all too much. When the next slap landed, intensifying the throbbing pain in your ass cheek, you flinched involuntarily, mixing fear and humiliation. “Understood?” he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument. You nodded frantically. “Good girl. Now be a good little girl and accept your punishment.” Each blow that followed wasn’t just a physical hit but a toll on your spirit, the redness spreading across your skin becoming unbearable as tears threatened to spill.

"How many steps did you take outside? Fifteen? Twenty?" His grip didn’t loosen as he began to cup and rub your sore skin, contrasting sharply with the pain he had just caused. When he finally removed the fabric from your mouth, you coughed and struggled to catch your breath. His hands were soon back on your skin, delivering another loud slap, the echo causing your heart to race. “I asked you a question!” The authority mixed with anger in his voice had you trembling; you felt completely vulnerable and utterly at his mercy. “I-I don’t know!” you stammered, desperation clawing at your insides as the pain continued to radiate. “Give me a number or I’ll treat you as if you took a hundred steps and punish you accordingly.”

It all clicked into focus—he intended to deliver a spanking for every step you confessed to taking outside. Panic washed over you as you scrambled for a response, understanding that each number corresponded to another blow. “Maybe… eight? Nine? Hwa, I’m so sorry! I promise it won’t happen again!” You winced as another strike landed hard, pain surging through your entire body. A shrill scream burst from your lips, tears streaming down your face as you felt utterly broken. “You can’t even make it to the basement door in eight steps! You definitely took at least twenty.” The realization of how many more strikes you would have to endure set in, fear gripping you tightly. “Seonghwa, please! It hurts!” You could feel the ropes digging into your wrists as you writhed in discomfort, helpless under his control. “Count!” His voice was steady but filled with a tone that no longer held any traces of affection. There was now a different Seonghwa standing before you, far removed from the person you once knew. The Seonghwa that Hongjoong had molded through his rigorous training and relentless expectations had emerged, bearing the marks of his newfound identity. Park Seonghwa, with his warmth and kindness, was a ghost of the past, replaced entirely by Kim Seonghwa, terrifying and merciless, with traces of Hongjoong in his personality.

"I'll take it as four so far. Count from here. But if you miss, you start over."

You were lying down with a cold compress pressed against your swollen eyes, a result of the tears that had flowed so freely just moments before. Your eyes were puffy and red, and the ice was meant to numb the sting and reduce the swelling and since you couldn’t sit down, you were lying down and eating the fruits that Seonghwa had prepared for you to comfort you and apologize in his own way, which he forced into your mouth even though you shook your head as no. Your favorite show flickered on the TV screen, providing a backdrop to the tense atmosphere. Your head rested in Seonghwa's lap, his hands multitasking - one soothingly rubbing your back while the other continued to offer forkfuls of juicy peach to your lips. The silence between you was palpable; you hadn't uttered a word since the punishment, your last spoken syllable being the final count of "twenty."

There was about an hour until Hongjoong arrived and in that hour, you both had to put everything back to how it was and act like nothing had happened. You could find an excuse for crying, but you didn't know what excuse to come up with for not being able to sit at the dinner table. After Seonghwa finished shoving the last remaining slice of peach in your mouth, the taste still lingering, he tenderly caressed your hair, leaning down to plant a gentle kiss on your head. “I need to get back to making dinner before he arrives. Can you manage to stay by yourself for a bit?” You didn’t respond; silence enveloped the space between you, your gaze fixed on the TV screen, your mind hardly registering anything at all. The sharp, burning sensation in your lower body remained, a reminder of everything.

"Angel, please say something. You're making me worry," Seonghwa said, his voice filled with concern. You looked at him and saw his worried eyes and guilt. You reminded yourself that Seonghwa was just following orders and his feelings were shaped by manipulation. He was just doing his job and wasn’t to blame for this situation; he was a victim of Hongjoong's manipulation too. You knew running away would lead to punishment, and you had indeed been punished harshly. Your feelings towards Seonghwa were complicated; you weren’t really angry with him, more so upset by the dynamics that had forced you both into this situation. Yet, the tension was thick in the air. If only he had chosen to overlook your escape, perhaps downplaying it with a simple warning 'not to do it again'. However, that wasn’t Seonghwa’s way. His sense of duty drove him to enforce the rules. The thought of what Hongjoong might do if he discovered your escape hung over you like a dark cloud. Past punishments had left scars—physical and emotional—and the fear of more severe consequences loomed large over you.

“Seonghwa?” you finally broke the silence, your gaze still intensely focused on him. “You won’t tell Hongjoong, right?” Fear crept into your voice as the thought of another punishment sent chills through your spine. Your body was still recovering, aching from the last punishment, and the thought of enduring more pain was unbearable. "As long as you don't make it obvious, I won't have to tell him," Seonghwa assured you. You understood the implication - if Hongjoong sensed anything amiss, there would be no stopping him from digging deeper, and Seonghwa, unable to bear the weight of it all, would be compelled to share everything that had happened. You found yourself desperate to maintain a façade, aware that any hint of suspicion could unravel everything. Despite the persistent pain, you knew you had to summon the strength to act as though nothing was amiss - to sit through dinner and participate in whatever activities Hongjoong might propose afterward.

Seonghwa gently took your hands, examining your wrists and massaging them softly. "There are no visible marks here," he observed, placing a kiss on each wrist before carefully returning them to your sides. "You should rest now. If dinner isn't ready when he arrives, he'll grow suspicious." With careful precision, he lifted your head from his lap, placing a pillow beneath it before kissing your forehead once more. “If you need anything at all, just call out, and I’ll be right there,” he promised, his tone filled with a warmth that contrasted sharply with the icy fear that gripped your heart. If only Hongjoong could show just a fraction of that care. Even when he punished you, if he could take the time to heal the wounds he inflicted and offer a shred of comfort, perhaps you wouldn’t harbor such deep-seated resentment towards him.

This was the first time you saw Seonghwa’s dark side and the first time you witnessed Seonghwa's darker nature, and it filled you with a deep sense of fear that you had never felt before. Up until this moment, you had held onto the belief that he might be an ally in your desperate situation, someone who could empathize with you. After all, Seonghwa himself had been a victim of that crazy bastard, just like you. You once thought that if a chance arose for escape, he would be the person to help you, or at the very least, he would choose to ignore your attempts to flee. However, that hopeful perspective began to shatter before your eyes.When he caught you trying to escape and forcefully pulled you back into the house, you still clung to the flicker of hope that perhaps he would guide you to safety. Maybe he would suggest taking the front entrance. But after telling you to go to the basement and punishing you for almost an hour - because you forgot what number you were at halfway through and started over - you realized that Seonghwa was actually just like Hongjoong, only more merciful. And as your idea of running away with him was completely ruined. The realization that you had to tread carefully around Seonghwa was a harsh lesson learned, leaving you feeling more trapped than ever in this nightmarish reality.

Part 2 ->

[starogeorgina]

𝐇𝐮𝐫𝐭, 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞, 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

Pairing: Aegon ii x reader, Daemyra x reader, Aemond x reader

Warnings: Smut, cheating, swearing, incest

The golden hairbrush engraved with dragon scales falls from your hand when you jump, startled by the sound of a heavy thud. Chewing on your bottom lip, you slowly make your way from the bedchamber to the main room of your royal husband’s apartment.

Your eyes land on the stack of books scattered across the floor, then land on Aegon, who’s leaning against the wall and laughing to himself.

“My love, what are you doing?”

“Ahhh,” he waves for you to come closer. “My beautiful wife, where are our spoilt little babes tonight?”

“Don’t call them spoilt.”

He chuckles, “They are well behaved; I just love to see you pout. Are they still here?”

“No, they are exhausted from playing in the gardens all day and are sleeping in their nursery.”

Although you yourself weren’t a Targaryen, both your son and daughter had their father’s features, thick silver hair and lilac eyes. Betha, named after your mother, was five, and your son Aegor was three. Both of them were blessings. You were content in your marriage to the prince, although you wished for him to drink less.

“You’re a good mother.”

Bending down, you start to pick up the fallen books; Aegon shamelessly stares at your breasts. “Perhaps the gods will give us another child to adore.”

He smooths his finger over the velvet fabric of your nightdress. “I’m sure they will if you ask nicely.”

“I will pray for it in the sept on the morrow.”

“Always the good girl,” he smirks. “Perfect in every way. Perhaps we can come to a compromise. If you put on a show for me, I’ll give you my seed every night until it takes.”

You push straggly strands of hair out of his face. “You flatter me, my prince, but what do you mean by show?”

“Sit on the chair behind you.” Doing as he says, you sit down on the chair that’s facing directly where he’s slumped on the ground. “Good, now pull your dress up and touch yourself.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks. Aegon always knew how to keep things exciting; pulling the fabric up to your waist, your cunt is completely exposed, and you start touching yourself.

Watching, Aegon groans and strokes his cock until it’s completely hard. “Come to me, wife.”

Standing, you feel the sticky wetness from your cunt drip down your thighs. Aegon lowers his trousers down to his knees; gripping your waist, he pulls you down onto his lap. In one move he thrusts inside of you.

“Ohh gods.”

Nipping at your neck, he growls, “You don’t need a god, just me.”

“Just you!” You repeat while bouncing up and down on his lap, the burning sensation of his cock stretching you becoming more pleasurable.

His hands tighten in your hair the closer he gets, his once toned stomach, which is now soft from all the wine he drinks, pressing against you. “Ñ uha vok ābrazȳrys. Ñuhon, mirre ñuhon.” (My perfect wife. Mine, all mine.)

You hold him tightly as you come together; you stay wrapped up in each other's arms until the night's chill becomes too much, and you retire to the bed.

—

“Aegon, Aegon!”

He stirs in the bed and rolls onto his front, ignoring the obvious distress in your voice. You rip the covers off him; he groans but still doesn’t get up. Frustrated, you pick up the full jug of water that you brought in only moments before and pour it over his head.

“Fucking—what is the matter with you women?” Sitting up, Aegon shakes the water from his hair. “Can’t a prince enjoy a long lie-in in the morning?”

“It’s midday, although I suspect you are exhausted from spending most of your night in a brothel!”

He groans loudly like a child having a tantrum, “It was only a bit of fun. You wouldn’t be so uptight if you had more of it.”

Your lips tremble. While breaking fast, Aemond let slip how Aegon would no doubt still be smelling of the street of silk; confused, you questioned him, and the answer you received was not only humiliating but heartbreaking as well. “I’ve been nothing but an utter fool these past years; I truly believed you cared for me.”

Rolling his eyes, he says, “Whores and wives are different.”

Infuriated, you toss the jug at the wall, shattering it into small pieces. “Are they? Because only last night you gave someone money in exchange for sex, then fucked me after saying you’d give me another child.”

Getting to his feet Aegon tries to take your hand, but you push him away. “It’s not the same!”

“I know it’s common for a prince to stray from his wife…” you sob. “But did you ever once think about how filthy it would make me feel knowing you touched them and me in the same night?”

He says nothing.

“It shows how little you think of me. I’ve had desires as well, but I never gave in to them because I respected you. I was proud to be your wife.” You shove him in the chest hard enough he takes a few steps back. “But you do not care! I have been nothing but devoted to you, and you just do not care.”

Aegon calls after you when you turn to leave, “Where are you going?”

“To have fun, isn’t that what you suggest I do?”

He looks hurt by your words. You slam the door behind you before Aegon can say anything else.

—

You spend most of the day crying into a pillow in a separate bedchamber. You felt humiliated; coming from a proud house in the Riverlands, you knew better than to accept being treated anything other than like a lady, yet that’s exactly what happened.

What would your lord father have to say if he knew?

Aside from your children, you don’t speak to anyone else for the remainder of the day.

By nightfall you’ve overthought the situation so much that you’ve given yourself a headache and decide to leave the bedchamber. This was the first time you truly felt hurt and disrespected by your husband, and you weren’t sure how to feel. How often did Aegon lay with whores, then you? Did he view you the same as you? Did he respect you at all?

You’re so lost in thought that you almost walk directly into someone. “My apologies, princess; I should have been paying more attention to where I was going.”

Rhaenyra offers you a kind smile. “It’s not often I meet someone during my nightly walks in the castle.”

The princess had come to King's Landing to celebrate the king's name day with her husband and children. You knew of the Hightowers' dislike for the princess, but there was no denying her beauty, and from the little interactions you had in the past, Rhaenyra was always kind to you.

“You seem troubled; care to join me on my walk?”

Realising she’s alone, you ask, “Shouldn’t you have a guard with you, princess? You are the king's heir.”

She grins and links her arm with yours. “I won’t tell, if you don’t.”

—

Your moans are muffled by Daemon kissing you, his hands roaming over his wife’s breasts as she continues to press her wet cunt against your own. You hold onto her hips, keeping her in place when the spot she grinds on brings you both pleasure.

You weren’t entirely sure how you ended up between them both; it felt like a dream. One moment the princess was offering you a sympathetic ear, and after a while, you whined about your husband; the next you were kissing her.

You pull back from the searing kiss. “Fuck, this feels so good.”

Rhaenyra's lips part slightly, her sweat-coated breast swaying with each movement. You reach your peak seconds apart, and before you have a chance to catch your breath, you're flat on your back, and Rhaenyra places a knee on either side of your head. She brings your hand to her mouth and sucks on two of your fingers, and once they are coated in her saliva, she lowers herself onto them. The prince slowly rubs at your clit, giving you the chance to somewhat recover.

It felt sickly satisfying knowing that you were getting revenge by being intimate with someone your husband was so jealous of.

“What a spoiled little thing you are.” Daemon rubs his cock between your folds. “I’ve never seen someone look cock drunk before getting fucked.”

After a few more seconds, you tilt your head back and start devouring Rhaenyra’s cunt with your tongue. Daemon thrusts into you, making it harder to concentrate on pleasing the princess with your mouth. It was clear they had done this before, not that you judged them for it, especially when one of them starts squeezing your sensitive breasts.

It doesn’t take Rhaenyra long to come again, and when Daemon's thrusts become sloppy, Rhaenyra rubs at your clit. Tears pour from the corner of your eyes when you come apart on the prince's cock just as he spills his seed.

Daemon pulls out and collapses down on the bed. Rhaenyra gently gets off you, then lays down beside you. She kisses you softly, “You can stay here until you’re rested.”

It’s not until they both fall asleep that the reality of what you’ve just done hits you.

—

Four days have passed since your argument with Aegon, and you’ve not spoken since; any attempts you made were greeted with silence. Mindlessly you walk into your brother-in-law's apartment with knocking.

“What is it?”

“I know it’s late—forgive me, my prince.”

Embarrassed, you spin quickly to face the wall. You expect to find Aemond pacing furiously in his apartments, reading a book, or even sulking; you did not expect to find him bathing.

“Tis alright, good sister; you can turn around.”

Slowly you turn back to see Aemond has placed a cloth over his lap to keep his modesty. “Forgive the intrusion… I heard how Aegon berated and mocked you for telling me the truth. I’m sorry.”

He snorts, “For what? You did nothing wrong.”

“I don’t like the idea of anyone else getting caught in the crossfire of our marriage.

“Sit with me; I can tell you are troubled.”

You pull one of the chairs closer and sit close to him. You have always been close to the one-eyed prince; he was always polite, and since you shared the same interests, you were never short of things to talk about.

“I…I’m a fool, I know. I know who Aegon is, but I just thought after giving him two children, I would be enough.”

“You’re not a fool,” Aemond smooths hair out of your face. “I’d cherish you; it’s my brother who’s the fool for not appreciating what he has.”

A dark laugh leaves your mouth when you can no longer keep the tears at bay. “Can I tell you a secret?”

He looks unsure but nods.

“My father begged me not to marry him; he always said Aegon would take advantage of my kindness. I left my home, my family, to be with him, and he just… doesn’t understand the sacrifices I made.”

“I regret telling you,” he sighs. “I did not intend for the truth to hurt you so deeply.”

“I’m glad you did, so I can see things clearly. I’d have followed him anywhere, but when I returned to the riverlands, he made no effort to come with me, and I made excuses for him. I think he’s embarrassed to be married to someone of lower status.”

“You are worth ten of my brother,” Aemond says sternly.

“Stop—”

He sits up in the bath, causing water to spill onto the floor. Aemond runs his thumb across your cheek. “I’ve been watching you for years; I’ve seen how kind you are to others. Know how intelligent you are; you’ve made more of an effort to learn my family’s mother tongue more than Aegon has. You’re beautiful.”

Looking at him through teary eyes, you ask, “Do you really think so?”

“Yes.”

Closing your eyes, you mentally try to prepare for the awkwardness that would take place when you returned to your chambers. The anger was fading away, and now all you wanted was to feel wanted and loved; it was pathetic, really.

You’re taken aback when you feel Aemond’s soft lips against yours. He mumbles something you don’t quite understand. “My Valyrian isn’t that good; I don’t know what that means.”

He chuckles softly, “If the gods were kinder, you would have been married to me and not him.”

Those were the last words you expected to hear. “Aemond—”

He cuts you off by kissing you again; his lips soon move to your mouth, and he whispers nothing but compliments, everything you wanted to hear. He nuzzles his face over your breasts, but the fabric of your dress is in the way.

Aemond watches nervously when you pull back and stand up. In one swift moment you discard the green dresses; now completely bare, you join him in the tub.

His mouth is on your breast, his fingers slip inside you, and it feels so good and wrong. It was wicked, but this wasn’t revenge. You just wanted to feel loved, and the more Aemond whispers how perfect he thinks you are, the more you want him.

More water spills onto the floor when you reposition yourself in the tub; you both gasp when you sink onto Aemond’s length.

“So perfect and tight.”

You brush the prince's damp hair to the side and bury your face into the crook of his neck; the faint smell of dragon, along with bath oils, fills your nostrils.

Aemond wraps his arms around you tightly while slowly thrusting into you. The younger prince has an innocence to him that Aegon didn’t; perhaps it’s why you felt so safe with him.

“I’m close.”

“I know I can feel it,” he hums.

Aemond tilts his hips in a way that causes his cock to go deeper, and his skin to brush against your clit. Soft noises fall from your mouth when you come, and the feeling of you tightening around him makes the prince groan.

Instead of moving you off him after he comes, Aemond kisses the crown of your head. “We both love you, just in different ways.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s true what I said: if you were my wife, I’d cherish you, but Aegon is not me. He’s selfish and a fool who thinks with his cock, but he is a man who loves his wife, no matter how poorly he shows it.”

You wanted to believe him, but it was hard. This was a mistake. You’d let your pain cloud your judgement once more: “I should go; the hour is late, and I’ll need to be up early for the children.”

“A few more minutes, please. I know after tonight this can never happen again.”

—

Feeling guilt and shame wasn’t something you were familiar with, but now it's plagued you for the last two moons, which is why you often avoided your husband. While studying Aegon’s sleeping form, your eyes gloss over; you hated him. You loved him but wanted to scream until your voice was raw and he felt the same humiliation and pain you did. Deep down you knew confessing wasn’t an option; Aegon would probably get over the sin itself, but knowing who you committed it with would break him.

You didn’t want that.

But soon what you did would be impossible to hide; you hadn’t bled twice now, and the maester suspects you are pregnant once more.

“Mama!”

Aegor burst into the room, his new favourite toy in hand. He runs away from the handmaid, holding his arms up. You wipe away the fallen tears with your sleeve and smile while picking him up.

“Hello, my sweet.” You cuddle the boy closer while he pays more attention to his wooden dragon that’s been painted over in a golden colour to resemble Sunfyre. Looking up, you met Aegon’s bloodshot eyes. “I didn’t mean to wake you, husband.”

“Avy jorrāelan.”

You didn’t know much High Valyrian, but you knew what those words meant. “I love you too.”

—

Despite your third pregnancy being the most difficult, it was now worth the suffering when the midwife placed the babe onto your chest, another son. The remorse for not being completely sure your husband fathered the babe had kept you awake most nights, and when you did sleep, only nightmares would come.

It was normal for the men to wait outside the birthing chamber, so when Aegon appears, the various midwives and other servants subtly disappear, leaving the three of you alone.

“They said it’s a healthy boy.”

Nodding, you readjust the top of your nightgown so the newborn can feed from your breast. “Yes, another boy.”

“I know why you have been visiting the sept every day, why you’ve been seeking forgiveness.”

You start to sob.

“I don’t mean to upset you. I don’t care; I deserved it. I have done wrong to you many times in different ways, and you always forgave me.”

“Aegon…”

“You wanted another child to adore, and now you have one, and he’s perfect.” He sits on the bed beside you, although a tear rolls down his cheek. Aegon smiles. “The boy has his mother's beauty, and for that I am glad. I’ve always wanted one to look like you.”

“I love them all the same.”

“As do I,” he kisses your forehead. “Our family is complete; let us think no more of the foolishness of the past.”

In the weeks that follow Aegon’s night ventures to the street of silk stop, Aemond remains an overprotective uncle, especially when Daemon and Rhaenyra fly over from Dragonstone to congratulate you and Aegon on the birth of your son.

If Aegon notices how his brother's and uncle's gaze lingers on the boy you named Willem a little too long, he says nothing.

“I’m afraid you may struggle to find a comfortable space.”

A wild smile spreads across your face, lying on the bed. Aegon was holding Willem against his bare chest while your eldest two were sound asleep and sprawled out in awkward positions across the bed. Somehow you managed to climb into bed and rest your head against Aegon’s shoulder.

You had felt the various stages of being hurt and wanting revenge, and perhaps this is what forgiveness was. Finally being truly happy together.

[katerinasas]

call it what you want 🩰

coriolanus snow x fem!reader

in which mrs snow finds something she must keep. and who his coriolanus to tell her no?

-

the garden behind the presidents mansion was beautiful, no doubt about it. coriolanus snow married his wife back there and he watched her from the window of their bedroom as she worked in it in all her free time and whenever the uv was above a 7.

he insisted he hire a gardener to “protect her pretty hands” but she declined over and over again. it was her outlet. her one “real” hobby that didn’t involve hiding away in the grand library coriolanus built for her.

large green bushes she trimmed so delicately and the stone path she’d managed to put in place her self. orange, red, pink, and yellow flowers everywhere with small blue ones trickled without. coriolanus had put a picnic table in it where they ate on occasion.

the only thing she didn’t like was the fence that guarded it to keep people and cameras out. it wasn’t very pretty, but as first lady secret services insisted, and so did coriolanus. it kept her hard work from public eye and left it only to be seen in photos inside magazines that didn’t do it justice. but the fence seemed to have failed.

kneeled in dirt, her gold necklace with a ‘C’ engraved in it hanging over it, she planted strawberry seeds in hopes they’d actually be good this year. focused on what she was doing, trying to avoid a repeat of last years berries, her focus dropped as she heard a weak meow. she turned around, only to hear it again. she stood, wiping her dirty hands on her pants, walking along the path in hopes of finding the source when suddenly she saw her.

a small kitten. she was light brown with dark spots, almost like a cheetah. mrs snow had not a clue how the animal had gotten in, but it must’ve been fate, she thought. “hi,” she whispered, kneeling down and gently reaching forward. the kitten meowed and she took that as her way of saying “yes, you can pick me up.”

she held the kitten all day long, leaving her in her lap when she read and holding her in one arm as she helped one of the snow’s maids, clarissa, with a task. she was already in love with the small animal as she waited for her husband to get home, ready to beg and plead to keep it.

“hmm,” she hummed gently to the kitten. she sat in her lap at the piano, mrs snow’s fingers gently playing soft chords as she stared down at her. “what about… lorelei?” the kitten stood and did a little spin bringing a laugh out of her. “you like that?”

“like what?” coriolanus echoed from the foyer, dropping his keys on the table. “i didn’t know you were having company, darli-”

“suprise,” she said with a smile, standing from the bench, holding the kitten to her chest. “i found her in the garden. i don’t know how she got in but,” she frowned, running a finger down her nose. “it rained last night, it must’ve been awful.”

coriolanus stood over her, a firm hand on her shoulder. “well, you must know we can’t keep it,” he said as if it was obvious. his hand brushed over his wife’s head, refusing to acknowledge the cat because he was sure if he did he’d give in.

“no i don’t. why can’t we?” she moved out from his touch, holding the kitten up to his eyes. “please, coryo?”

“no,” he swallowed, doing his best not to give into her temptation. they couldn’t have a cat. it didn’t seem… scary to him. not presidential, not like the pet of a man who led a country and 12 districts.

but his wife was persistent. she frowned up at him, holding the cat to her chest as she purred. “coryo,” she whined. “look at her. she’s just a baby. her mom was out of sight, i looked, and she already likes me. she even picked out her name.”

“i said-”

“please?” she gave him her best puppy eyes, her free hand on his chest.

coriolanus bit the inside of his cheek before sighing. “i guess.” he stumbled back as his wife pulled him into a side hug, kissing his cheek over and over again. red lipstick prints covered his face as she offered him the cat which he took with a small smirk. “what name did she pick?”

“lorelei,” she smiled.

“hm,” he nodded, holding the creature awkwardly. “i like it.” after a few moments he looked up. “you’re impossible to say no to, you know that?”

his wife only smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder. “you love me.”

“you’re a master manipulator and i’m an easy target or i love you, call it what you want.”

“i’ll call it you love me,” she said, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him softly.

“then i guess i’ll call it that, too,” he said, his arm holding her close to him as the pair smiled at the new member of their family.

saw this kitty on pinterest and knew what i had to do.

I LOVE CATS!!!!!!!!!

#cantspellcatswithoutTS

[kawaiigirly21]

Gem of Olympus 6

"Wait, say that again. I'm afraid I didn't hear you correctly. You…want…her…back?” Apollo stared at his brother as he sat across from him in the large garden. “Yes Apollo! I want her back! I-i miss her. I can't sleep. I can't eat. I can barely look at Aphrodite without wishing she was… Natasha… I still love her. I don't think I ever stopped…” Ares put his head in his hands. This was one of the very first times he displayed his true emotions in front of anyone besides the goddess he was previously married to.

Apollo sighed as he took his eyes away from his brother to look at his wine glass. “Look Ares, I'm sure your feelings are genuine but do you know how much you hurt her? She unraveled because of you. Her confidence became undone. And so did her clothing. She went around starting affairs to compensate for what you did to her. She never once doubted her beauty until you planted those seeds of deceit and pain. She simply did all those things to feel beautiful again. To regain some semblance of power. Control.”

Ares could do nothing but simply listen to his brother as he spoke words of truth to him. His ears now finally opened and his mind cleared to truly understand what he had done. “I don't doubt your love for her, Ares. In fact when you two first started courting, I had never seen you so happy. But she's no longer yours. And if you want her back. If you want to be her husband once more, you have a lot to work on.” Apollo then stood from his chair and walked past his sulking brother.

“Now if you'll excuse me, I do have to get going. I do believe I hear mortals praying for me to heal their sick. Till tonight brother.” Ares simply waved his brother off and made his way out of the garden. He knew Apollo was telling the truth. He had much to work on. Such as getting rid of Aphrodite. Elsewhere on Olympus, Poseidon and Hera were planning his proposal. As Hera was the goddess of marriage, she jumped at the opportunity to help her brother wed Natasha.

“She did say she liked Dolphins right? Or was it tiger sharks… this is stressing me out…” Poseidon sighed as his eyes scanned the parchment in front of him. “It was indeed tiger sharks. Please don't let this bother you. It's just a proposal. It's not the wedding… yet.” Poseidon nodded before grabbing a pen. “I just want this to be perfect… I love her Hera… I truly do..” Hera smiled warmly. “I know you do. I can tell. Now back to the planning, you want to do this when?” Poseidon quickly answered. “The day after tomorrow! I don't want to wait any longer!”

While the two continued their planning, Hades, Persephone and Natasha were playing with Cerberus. “Come on boy! Come on! Go get it!!” Natasha smiled brightly as she watched the three headed dog run off to fetch the log she threw. “It's hard to believe he used to be so small you could hold him in one hand. Now look at him.” Persephone put a loving hand on her niece's shoulder as she led her to their usual table. “We have much to discuss my dear.” Hades spoke as he took a seat besides her.

Natasha knew exactly what it was they were about to discuss and smiled as the gossip flew. “Then she claimed she didn't know I was there. Can you believe that?” Natasha sipped her tea as she listened closely to her uncle's story. “Ugh unbelievable!” She added. “I personally wouldn't have tolerated such disrespect!” Persephone said. Once every month, Natasha traveled to the underworld for 3 days to spend time with her aunt and uncle. Most of the time, it was tea, cakes and all the gossip they could stand.

Other times....“Ah! Oh! There! There! Mm!!” Hades growled in Natasha's ear as he took her from behind. “Put that mouth to good use, darling.” Persephone purred as she led Natasha's head to her pussy. “Ah~ good girl~ mm~” Hades smirked as he pushed himself deeper into Natasha's weeping cunt. “Agh shit!! So tight you are little one! Fuck!!” Persephone smiled as she pet Natasha’s head. “Oh fuuuuck~ You’re too good at this~”

Later that day, Natasha laid in her bed reminiscing about her past affairs and her previous lovers while petting her lion. “Hmmm Hercules gave you to me. You big ball of fluff.” The nemean lion simply yawned while snuggling close to her. “Not much to say on that. You’re so spoiled.” As Natasha looked up at her ceiling, she heard a soft yet firm knock at her door. “It's open.” Fully expecting to see Hermes, considering his knocks were the only kind that sounded that way, the goddess’ eyes widened when the man in her chambers was not in fact Hermes but Ares.

“Do you have a minute?” He asked with a hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Um…sure. What is it?” Natasha moved from her lying position to sitting up with Leo, her lion, moving to place his head on her lap and continue his nap. “I um..here. These are for you. They’re your favorite right?” Ares asked as he pulled a bouquet of belladonnas from behind him. “Yes they are. I didn’t know you knew. Place them on my night table. I’ll vase them once Leo moves his large head.” The war god nodded as he placed the flowers down and stood in front of Natasha awkwardly.

“You may sit Ares. I’m not forcing you to stand.” As the god found a chair to sit in, Natasha watched confused. Why was he so awkward and nervous? He wasn’t even like that when they first started courting. “I wanted to apologize for my behavior the other night…and for …everything…” This threw Natasha for a major fucking loop. Ares? Apologizing?! Since when!? “Oh well…You’re forgiven…at what cost though?” Natasha eyed her Ex husband suspiciously. “What do you mean? Can I not apologize without having an ulterior motive?”

Natasha immediately shook her head and stroked Leo’s mane while he purred loudly. “No. Not from what I've seen.” Ares sighed as his head hung low. “I beg for your forgiveness. Not for the benefit of myself, but for my love for you…” Natasha’s eye twitched as she watched in disbelief.

"Your love for me? When did you ever have love for me?! You cannot just come in here Ares and expect me to embrace you with open arms! After what you did to me?! You’re grateful that I even accepted your flowers and allowed you into my chambers! You want my forgiveness?! Work for it! Now…If you'll excuse me, I must get ready for bed. Goodnight.” Ares left the room tight lipped and humiliated. It wasn’t as if he expected her to take him back right away but he definitely wasn’t expecting that reaction either.

As the war god moved to make his way to his own room, He stopped in his tracks when his ears caught the condescending chuckle of his uncle. “Didn’t go as you planned, did it?” Poseidon asked as he appeared from his place behind a pillar. “How long were you there?” Ares asked as his eyes squinted. “Long enough to know I have more of a chance than I once thought.” Ares stepped to his uncle with an angered expression on his face. “And just what is that supposed to mean?” Poseidon simply smirked as he walked past his nephew.

“Exactly what you think nephew. You had your chance. Now let me show you how a real man charms a woman.” Watching in irritation, Ares’ eyes widened as Poseidon not only knocked on Natasha’s door with a much firmer sound that just screamed authority and confidence but that it looked as if Natasha scrambled to open the door and immediately let the king of the seas in. while she was dressed in her finest nightgown as well. Before the door closed, Poseidon sent an all knowing smirk Ares’ way. It became all so clear then. This was war. And Ares was determined not to lose.

[alexanderlightweight]

Happy Wednesday! Hope you're having a good week.

I'm currently doing a ton of gardening and trying to get lots of flowers to grow from seeds. So, for a prompt, something with Alec or Magnus planning gardens, maybe for each other. Or anything garden or plant related.

Thank you!

thank you! it... omg its pretty much Wednesday. fuck I feel like I can finally breathe a little. tomorrow is a crazy busy morning but ITS WEDNESDAY! hope you are having a good week!

i am so happy okay, I only just realized that. it's been super busy. its been a bit but I hope your gardening did well? and that is is doing well again this year?

i hope you enjoy this, inspired by gardening and the obsessive amount of pollen we're dealing with

<3 lumine

-

in his wake petals fall

Alec sneezes and then hurriedly stops breathing so as to not provoke another.

Several feet away Magnus has paused from where he’s lovingly tending to a very beautiful new pot of flowers.

The minor stiffening of his shoulders finally untenses the longer the silence last and finally, he goes back to what he was doing.

Alec waits a minute longer, gratefully inhales and then mentally sighs as he sneezes the very next moment.

“I knew it!.” Magnus turns with fury and his fingers have already snapped, no doubt either banishing the plant from existence or to Ragnor’s garden — which is close enough to the former that it still counts. “You are allergic!”

“I’m sensitive.” Alec counters, because he is not going to let Magnus get away with this assumption. Magnus is not taking away an entire genus of flowers simply because Alec sneezes over pollen being directly blown in his face. “You didn’t have to get rid of it.”

Magnus huffs, as if it’s conceivable to even consider keeping the plant.

As if it were the plants fault that Alec is allergic to some demonic species just by merit of his own nephilim heritage.

“And Cat is making me that potion, remember. So that it won’t be a problem much longer.” Alec’s not sure if it’s the reminder that Cat has a solution, Alec fluttering his lashes at Magnus or the fact that Alec will actually be sad about this that does it.

—-

Magnus sighs, because perhaps Alexander has made a point or two and also because his darling is pouting at him with a very sad face and as cute as it is, Magnus still hates to see it.

“Of course, darling. You’re right. I’ll simply put the rest of this batch under a ward then, shall I?”

Alexander — being brilliant as he usually is — immediately backs away and far from range so that the pollen won’t further attack him.  Therefore, Magnus won’t be forced to defend his husband with fire and then make his lovely boy sad because he destroyed the rest of the plants they bought together.

There’s no hope for the one Magnus exiled to Ragnor’s.

Done with that, Magnus is about to join Alexander when the breeze picks up as he steps out of the wardline and Alexander sneezes... while facing Magnus.

“It’s the pollen, not you.”

As sweet as that is, it really doesn’t make Magnus feel any better as he first magically purifies himself and then quickly walks to the large outdoor shower that he and Alexander designed together.

“No, I’ll only be a moment, petal.” Magnus shoos his Alexander away, letting the vines gather to keep his darling far enough away so as to not be exposed.

Alexander’s outraged expression before the ivy covers the opening is charming, but alas Magnus knows exactly how poorly Alexander responds to long term exposure.

No amount of Alexander’s tempting visage will induce him to change his mind. However there is less of a chance if Magnus can’t see his face.

Even if showering alone is rather lonely.

AN:

Magnus and the plants have a war going on. if they hurt Alec, they're out.

Alec and the plants have a secret understanding that Alec tries hard not to let Magnus know when one of the plants hurts him.

Magnus and Alec overly love each other the everything else suffers except Alec also suffers a little but that's fair because sometimes he won't let Magnus join him for decontamination showers either.

[a-really-cool-blog-name]

I NEED more information on Pavlova cookie because from what I have so far he is incredibly interesting.

(Important note! I am currently on chapter 2 of beast yeast so I have not played chapter 9 yet so most of my information comes from what people have told me which may be incorrect or not the full picture. If you have any important details to add or corrections, please tell me. I fully expect someone to come into the comments and tell me that this entire analysis is complete bull crap but this is just from what I've seen what is going on with Pavlova cookie. I'd love to hear you guys' thoughts about this.)

At first when I saw Pavlova cookie I was like "oh neat, another basic minion for the beast, this one's based off of cupid, that's pretty cool. I wonder what his personality will be like?" And his personality is like oh he loves love which makes sense because he's Cupid and it's also one of Eternal sugar's minions as previously stated and seems to like her because you know he's being a minion, BUT!

I think Pavlova cookies trapped in the garden and is slowly realizing that this is not what he wants. In a conversation Pavlova has with eternal sugar, Eternal sugar states that he's been going to like the edges of the garden and like leaving a lot (I don't really remember I don't have eternal sugar yet so I can't see this conversation for myself) and eternal sugar suspects that Pavlova might want to leave which Pavlova swiftly denies. Which most likely is because if anyone does deny Eternal sugar she apparently turns them to Stone???? As one of Pavlova's Ascension statements is that he doesn't want to be turned into a statue.

What?!??

And I think I know why! Eternal sugar directly describes Pavlova as "rebellious and curious" (not a direct quote I can't remember the word she uses to describe him but that is the meaning of the word) and I was like wondering why Pavlova is having second thoughts and then it struck me.

Pavlova cookie loves love, not happiness. And while love is directly tied to happiness, love is more directly tied to something else. You know what some people use instead of saying they're in love with someone? They say they're passionate about them. Love inherently is a passion. You're never going to get in a relationship if you just sit around and neither of you make some move, you're not even going to get that unrequited love if you don't know it is. And sure the feeling of Love might still be there, but true love requires passion. And I think Pavlova cookie might have these seeds of doubt about The garden of happiness because he's not truly happy because there's not as much love because there's not as much passion.

Love is Passion and Passion is Love.

Even if Pavlova cookie hasn't fully realized this this seeds are planted in his head that something isn't right, this garden of sloth, this prison of a paradise, isn't love, it isn't even lust, it's just fine. You're just happy, there's nothing more to it, and there is so so much more to love than just vague happiness. Pavlova cookie is directly stated to love all types of love, even the complicated messy types like unrequited, and he's not really seeing that because even if he hasn't connected the dots if there's no passion, there's no love.

(Also side note, I think I was right with eternal sugar being delusional and thinking she is genuinely still bringing the most happiness she can for people. She is still manipulating them but I think I was right and she genuinely believes she's doing the right thing. Which score for me, I think that's so much more interesting than she knows she's doing the wrong thing and purposefully manipulating people into it for fun which a lot of people was saying it would be. Detour over.)

Now as I've stated before I haven't played chapter 9 yet so there might be a conversation with Pavlova cookie that directly goes against some of this analysis but this is just what I've gathered so far.

Please tell me if I am wrong or if you have something to add to this, it would be deeply appreciated.

[cheeekycharchar]

The Forbidden Fruit, Choices and Fear

[A GOOD OMENS META ANALYSIS OF AZIRAPHALE POST S2] I know everyone is still upset about that gut punch of an ending to GO S2.. and many are also extra upset at Aziraphale.. I'm in so much pain over it too but.. I have to rationalize that damned "I forgive you" line that broke all our hearts to comfort me until we get S3.. I basically overanalyze our favorite cocoa loving Angel to explain his reaction to the kiss and why we all need to be a lil kinder to him.

2500 BC in the Land of Uz.. Aziraphale, the Angel of the Eastern Gate, had the fear of God put into him. And this affected the rest of his immortal life up until that kiss.

Angels, after the Fall and the great war between Heaven and Hell, had the fear of the Almighty's wrath put into them. They all fell in line and stayed in line. Or else they'd end up like their fallen brethren.. or worse. But there was one lil Angel that had since toed that line..

"Didn't you have a flaming sword? Yeah, it was flaming like anything." "…Gaveitaway.." "You what?" "I gave it away!" As far as we've seen, this is the first time Aziraphale did something "bad". And he's already feeling the pressure. The guilt. The fear. He didn't follow the rules. He didn't do exactly as he was told. And suddenly, here's a Demon slithering up next to him and making him doubt his choice even more. The same Demon that snuck past the guardians of Eden and tempted the first human's into eating the apple, breaking the rules and getting them kicked out of paradise on Earth.

"Bit of an over reaction if you ask me. First offence and everything. I can't see what's so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyway. "Well, it must be bad.. [..] Otherwise.. you wouldn't have tempted them into it." "Not very subtle of the Almighty, though. Fruit tree in the middle of a garden with a 'Don't Touch' sign. Makes you wonder what God's really planning." "Best not to speculate. It's all part of the Great Plan. It's not for us to understand. It's ineffable. It is beyond understand and incapable of being put into words."

Already the seeds of doubt are tinkering in his mind. Stay in line. No more questioning the Almighty's plans. That's what got all the bad Angels thrown out of Heaven and then Adam and Eve exiled too.

"I do hope I didn't do the wrong thing." "Oh, you're an angel. I don't think you can do the wrong thing." "Oh, thank you. It's been bothering me." "I've been worrying, too. What if I did the right thing with the whole 'eat the apple' business? A demon can get into a lot of trouble for doing the right thing. It'd be funny if we both got it wrong, eh? If I did the good thing and you did the bad one." *chuckles* "..No. It wouldn't be funny at all!"

And then we get to season two's opening reveal. Crowley and Aziraphale had actually met before the wall of Eden.

"But that's idiocy!" {…} "It's not our job to advise the Almighty on the details of creation." "Well, then whose job is it?" {…} "Well, if I was the one running it all, I'd like it if someone asked questions. Fresh point of view."

And thanks to Aziraphale mentioning the Great Plan to Angel Crowley.. it put seeds of doubt into his mind. Making him question the Almighty's plans.

".. I'd hate to see you getting into any trouble." "Thanks for your help. And thanks for your advice. I wouldn't worry though. How much trouble can I get into just for asking a few questions?"

And then 10 million Angels fell. Kicked out of Heaven and marked as evil, unforgivable, and without God's love for eternity. Then we get the flashback to the story of a a prosperous man of outstanding piety named Job and how his life was destroyed because of a bet between God and Satan to test his faith even in adversity.

"What did he [Job] do? "Job? Nothing. Job's the nicest man in the world. That's why he's so perfect for the bet. You see, God was saying how righteous Job was and how much Job loved God. And Satan pointed out-- that maybe that was just 'cause God's been so nice to him. ..God's letting Satan destroy everything Job has. And then we'll see."

Now remember, the great flood wasn't too long ago. Where the Almighty wiped out nearly all of the human race with a big storm cause they were tetchy aka simply irritable, bad-tempered and annoyed. So this time, Aziraphale actually questions Heaven about this bet when he finds out that Job's children will be killed.

"Trust in God's plan, Aziraphale. Always." "Of course. So, once Job's trials are over, everything is restored to him?" "Even better than that. God will reward him with twice as much as he had before." {…} "I think they quite like the old ones [Job's children].. And if.. we kill them-" "-Aziraphale… we are the good guys. We're not killing anyone. What we are doing is simply not stopping hell. What they do is up to them."

His faith is wavering. He can hardly believe that Heaven would actually destroy a good man's family without truly understanding the fragility and consequences of human life/death; all to test him on a bet.

"Are we sure that Sitis wants to give birth four more times?"

Furthermore, they would be forcing Job's wife to give birth 7 more times despite Aziraphale's warning of them loving their original 3 children and that Sitis may not actually want to give birth to more children at her age. Hence taking away her choice. But thankfully, good ol' Crowley is the worst demon ever and is secretly protecting Job's children and goats. Something they're keeping between the two of them. And then during this deception… Crowley tempts Aziraphale with his first bite of food.

"Have an ox rib." "Are you trying to tempt me?" "Not at all. Angels can't be tempted, can you?" "Certainly not." "Well, there you are then. You're free to try the food."

A temptation he quickly falls into. A choice to eat the food and enjoy it to gluttony. Another sin under his belt. In the end, Virtuous Job passed his test but had the shit reward in return. Except Crowley and Aziraphale secretly saved the children.. which lead to Aziraphale lying straight to Heaven.. again.

And this is where he finally falls apart.

"I'm ready to go." "Go where?" "To Hell." {….} "But you have to. I'm like you now.. A demon.." "You think you're a demon?" "I'm a fallen angel! I lied.. To thwart the will of God." "Well yeah, you did, but I'm not gonna tell anybody. ..Are you?" *shakes head no* "No. Then nothing has to change, does it?" "…But what am I?" "You're just an angel who goes along with Heaven as far as he can." "That sounds um.." "Lonely?" "Yeah. But you said it wasn't." "I'm a demon. I lied."

As Crowley always tells him- Demons lie. And Aziraphale lied. Again. And now they're keeping this huge secret between the two of them. To never be spoken of or else possibly face the wrath of God. THIS scene right in this minisode here is SUCH an important part of Aziraphale's character and his future choices. And that's what it's all about, isn't it? Choices? The ability to choose between good and evil.

"Look, I am good. You, I'm afraid, are evil. But people get a choice. You know, they cannot be truly holy unless they also get the opportunity to be wicked." "Yeah, that only works if you start everyone off equal. You can't start someone off like that and expect her to do as well as someone born in a castle." "Ah, but no, no. That's the good bit. The lower you start, the more opportunities you have."

What we learn from this wee Scottish body snatching story is that something can be seen as evil but could actually be a good deed from a different perspective. And that Aziraphale truly believed that the lower you start, the more opportunities you could have. But he also believes in divine punishment. Punishment that can be dealt at any time for any thing. Big or small. From a few questions that make you lose God's love to selling corpses for survival money and accidentally getting your best friend killed or just having too much faith in God could destroy everything in your life for a bet. All of which he has witnessed with someone good (Crowley, Job, Elspeth, etc) losing everything that's important to them in the most horribly way. But Aziraphale remembers the hard lessons he learned; of inequality and responsibility of your actions and the choices you make.

Someone born into poverty doesn't get as much out of life as someone born into a rich lifestyle. Or.. a lowly snake and a lowly principality falling in love and being forgiven may not be as easily dismissed as a Duke of Hell and Archangel finding love in one another and simply being allowed to run away to the stars together without any punishment. It's all of these moments, these lessons that Aziraphale learns throughout the years that change his view on life but he still remembers the wrath of God throughout existence. Something as little as a question could get you kicked out of Heaven, eating an apple could get you banished from paradise or you could be the most faithful perfect and loved person and still have your entire life destroyed over a bet. What does he know most about the Almighty? They're "tetchy" and unpredictable.

"Aziraphale, Angel of the Eastern Gate. Where is the flaming sword I gave you, Aziraphale, to guard the Gate of Eden?"

He then conceals the truth to God themselves of the choice he made to give humanity a fighting chance of survival by giving his holy sword away. And is left alone without another word. Forced to walk on egg shells for the rest of his existence out of fear.

"So, giving the mortals a flaming sword. How did that work out for you?" "The Almighty has never actually mentioned it again.." "Probably a good thing."

That fear of the unknown consequences to his past actions.. his lies.. for good or for bad.. he could fall at any moment or lose everything he holds precious (aka his Angel-ness and Crowley).

"I'm not an idiot, Crowley. Do you know what trouble I'd be in if.. if they knew I'd been fraternizing? It's completely out of the question." "Fraternizing?!" "Well, whatever you wish to call it. I do not think there is any point in discussing it further."

So what does he always do? Deflects.. to protect himself. To protect Crowley. Not saying the real truth out loud. Keeping the reality of their relationship an unsaid secret like always.

But sometimes, actions speak louder than words.

"Should I say thank you?" "Better not."

Yet again, he breaks the rules. Doesn't even want to hear a thank you. Again, it must all go unsaid.

"You go too fast for me."

Crowley has always been one step ahead of him. Asking questions, falling, breaking the rules, etc. Aziraphale isn't ready yet. He's not ready to lose everything he holds dear to him by admitting out loud all of his sinful choices or else face the punishment he's been fearing for thousands of years.

"Go off together?" "How long have we been friends? Six thousand years."

Aziraphale starts panicking here. Crowley is saying too much out loud. Deny deny deny.

"Friends? We're not friends. We are an angel and a demon. We have nothing whatsoever in common. I don't even like you."

This bandstand breakup was literally Aziraphale freaking out about doing too many bad things dealing with the whole anti-Christ situation and Crowley getting too close to saying what they truly are to each other. But the fear is too much and he lies again. But this time to himself. Aziraphale has only ever wanted to do the good thing. To make the correct choices. To be on the right side. But he's always faltered. Made choices that he was sure were the bad ones. Lied on occasion. Kept secrets from Heaven and God. Given into temptations. And has always had this fear of God's Almighty wrath hanging over his head for millennia. Always waiting for the other shoe to drop. At any moment, everything will be taken away. But what could be the last straw? The straw that finally breaks the camel's back? To garner God's attention and punishment. It has to be something big. The biggest and most important part of his life. Something that matters to him more than anything in the world. His relationship with the Demon, Crowley. But he's learned. If you don't say it out loud.. if you keep it to yourself. Then you won't be punished. It's worked out for him so far. So why should he think otherwise? And then in the end of S2E6, Metatron gives him the opportunity to make a change to the Heavenly system. His chance to restore his best friend to his former holy glory. A chance to relieve all the suffering he's seen throughout history. A chance to make a difference. Despite all his secret sins, he's being given an unbelievable opportunity- one that proves that maybe he isn't as bad as he always thought he was. He's actually seen as worthy. But then Crowley gets angry about all this. He's against it all. He doesn't want that. He doesn't want to be an Angel again. He doesn't want to return to Heaven. He just wants to be with Aziraphale. And he finally says their best kept, unsaid secret out loud. With a love confession and a passionate kiss.

"You idiot. We could have been… us."

Aziraphale wants this more than anything but every instinct inside of him is screaming to stop it, to not let anyone see, to not let anyone know the truth. This final temptation. His one and true forbidden fruit that is the Demon Crowley.. and it's the one he knows he must resist at all costs.

The fear is overpowering. And the only words that come from his lips…

"I forgive you."

I forgive you for letting our unsaid secret out. I forgive you for trying to tempt me. I forgive you for refusing to join me in Heaven as a renewed Angel. But can he ever truly forgive himself for the choice he just made? Remember, in the end, Aziraphale is just afraid. Afraid to lose everything. Afraid to lose Crowley. Fear of punishment can be traumatizing after all. And it will all be fixed in S3. ;) HAVE FAITH IN GAIMAN!

..Sorry this was so long and drawn out but… I NEED SEASON 3 ALREADY.. (everyone! keep re-watching GO2 on Prime! and no more threats to the creators plz ^-^) Honestly, this was very cathartic to write and help me come to terms with the most heart wrenching painful TV kiss of all time D: But I need to see how their story unfolds. I need to see Aziraphale allow himself to make the choice to be with Crowley without fear of punishment. I NEED MY INEFFIBLE HUSBANDS. TOGETHER. T^T

PS. Literally as I was finishing writing this, I saw Neil Gaiman himself say this on his Tumblr, "But the story of Job is pretty central to the whole Good Omens conversation, including Aziraphale's bit of it." OMG I KNEW IT lololol

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Alastor hated both Adam and Lucifer with a fiery passion. The fallen angel had beaten him in battle, no one has ever bested him like that!

The King of Hell grated on his nerves simply for existing.

And what was worse? They were TOGETHER! As in dating and they were happy and thriving! Sure there was a lot of melodrama along the way that everyone had to bare witness to, but the radio demon had been sure they would crash and burn. He was rooting for them to fail.

He thought that when the first man respawned in Hell that Lucifer would have had him tortured for the rest of his days. That's not what happened at all, he took Adam in and let him stay at the hotel and even got the sinner to sell his soul to the King for ultimate protection.

Slowly, everyone watched the two fall in love for each other even when they tried to hide it. It should have been a toxic relationship what with all the baggage between them since the dawn of time.

But no, their love was equal parts vile and beautiful. Alastor wanted to puke even thinking about it.

He had two things in mind. Alastor wanted a rematch with Adam, he was a sinner now so he would be much weaker. An easy win to sooth Alastors bruised ego. Then he wanted to create as many wedges as he could in their disgusting relationship.

He couldn't do much of anything to Lucifer, being the King meant he'd turn Alastor into paste before he even lifted a finger.

But if he could get under Adam's skin, fuck with his mind and plant seeds of doubt then the fallen angel would do the rest.

Adam hummed happily as he plucked weeds out of his garden. Lucifer had made him a huge greenhouse filled with a garden for him to tend to as a way to relax and a gift.

Adam's gift in return was a little more oral.

He loved this garden, it wasn't Eden, nothing would ever compare to that garden, but it was one that Lucifer made just for him and he loved it all the more.

"It's looking good right?" Adam asked as he looked back to Lucifer who was in a lawn chair watching him work.

Lucifer had been looking at Adams bent over frame as he pulled weeds. "Looks exquisite." He wasn't talking about the garden.

Adam smirked. "You mean the garden right?"

"I think two things are exquisite. Like the flowers that are in bloom and those jeans that hug your ass just right." He should get Adam more jeans like that.

Adam just shook his head playfully, "These are my favorite jeans."

"Mine too.~" Lucifer winked and Adam had to look away and smother a laugh in his hand. Cheeky devil.

"Gentlemen." The sound of a static filled voice filled the room. Adam frowned and looked over to where Alastor was standing.

This fucking guy, Adam thought bitterly. Adam got to his feet and wiped the dirt off on his jeans. "The fuck do you want?" He walked over to his work bench to grab some tools.

"Now that's not very nice. Am I interrupting something?" Alastor said not at all caring if he did.

"Well actually-" Lucifer started, but got the microphone shoved in his face to silence him. He growled and glared at the radio demon. How dare he just come in here and ruin his and Adams garden time together!!

"Don't care. I'm not here for you your majesty I'm here to speak with Adam actually." Alastor spit out the title as if it were poison.

"Again, what the fuck do you want I'm busy. Last time I checked, I don't want you in here." Adam said not looking at Al, his voice taking on a sharper edge. He went to stand beside Lucifer, glaring at Alastor.

"I'll cut to the chase. I want a rematch against you."

Adam blinked. "Rematch?" The fuck did that mean? It took him a minute until it clicked. "Oh! You mean from when I beat your ass on the roof? Ha! Yeah, no not gonna happen Bambi get lost."

Alastor narrowed his eyes. "What's the matter, worried you'd lose?"

Adam laughed. "Bitch please, you're not even worth my time." He walked over to Alastor and got in his face. "Now get the fuck out of my garden."

Alastor turned to look at Adams work bench. He noticed that among the tools and seeds there was a single potted plant. Must be special.

In a swift motion Alastor knocked it to the ground with his microphone. Adam reached out to catch it but he wasn't fast enough, the pot broke on the ground the flower and dirt going everywhere.

Lucifer had given him that flower, he created it special for Adam as a symbol of their love.

Adam's eyes flashed red as he turned a glare to that radio fuck. "WHAT THE FUCK ASSHOLE!?" His voice took on a more demonic edge. How fucking dare he! That guys smug smile was really pissing Adam off.

"What's the matter, did your little boyfriend get you that silly little flower?" In the next second Al found himself sliding across the floor, some pain in his throat.

Adam had throat punched the fucker. "As a matter a fact, he did." He could feel his blood boiling, he was so pissed. "You want a fucking fight you got one."

Alastor got to his feet grinding madly. Finally, he would wipe the floor with that shit stain.

Lucifer used his magic to conjure something up for Adam. "Here, use this." He handed Adam his guitar that doubled as a saw. Lucifer took Adam by the chin and looked him in the eye. "Kick his fucking ass. I'll be watching."

Adam smirked, his eyes going back to their golden color. "You bet I will."

"And stay the fuck out!" Adam yelled as he slammed the doors to the garden. Alastor on the other side crumpled on the floor. He fucking lost again! What the hell was that? Alastor slunk away to the shadows, he had planning to do.

Adam walked back over to Lucifer who was grinning from ear to ear beaming with pride for his boyfriend. He had his hands behind his back. "Whatcha got there?"

Lucifer revealed the newly fixed pot with the flower he made for him. As if it had never been broken. "For the victor."

Adam smiled and took the flower, he leaned down and kissed Lucifer on the lips. "Thank you, Luci." Adam placed the flower back where it belonged. He felt arms wrap around him from behind.

"You know what would be fun?" Lucifer purred as he rubbed Adams hips suggestively.

"Hmm, sex in the garden?"

"Sex in the garden."

[hybriddhthepoet]

The Heart of a Teacher

By HybridDH

The heart of a teacher is vast and true,

A guiding light in skies of blue.

They see the spark where others might not,

They water the seeds that time forgot.

With hands outstretched and wisdom wide,

They walk beside, not just decide.

For teaching is more than a duty or task,

It’s unveiling the answers that students ask.

Not all lessons are found in books,

Sometimes they’re hidden in caring looks.

A gentle nudge, a patient ear,

A word of hope to quell the fear.

They are architects of unspoken dreams,

Builders of bridges across life’s streams.

They plant ideas, and let them grow,

Their garden flourishes more than they know.

In every student, they see a flame,

Each one unique, yet none the same.

They fan the fire with thoughtful care,

For in every soul, potential is there.

A teacher knows their work takes time,

It’s not just the rhythm, the reason, the rhyme.

It’s a life they shape, a future they guide,

The hope of the world walks at their side.

Years may pass, and faces will fade,

But memories of kindness will never degrade.

A teacher’s touch lingers softly and long,

Like the echoing notes of a heartfelt song.

For the child who doubted they’d ever belong,

They taught them to stand, to grow strong.

For the one who faltered, they offered a hand,

And showed them the stars, the sea, the land.

Their wisdom flows not just from their head,

But from their heart, where care is bred.

For teaching is more than lessons or lore,

It’s opening doors to something more.

And even as they grow and leave,

As life brings joy and moments to grieve,

A teacher remains in the whispers of thought,

In the lessons remembered, the courage taught.

To be a teacher is to never stop learning,

To kindle the flame that’s constantly burning.

To give without end, to believe without fail,

To weather the storms, the winds, the gales.

Decades from now, when their students are grown,

And face the world, their paths unknown,

They’ll remember the ones who taught them to try,

Who gave them their wings, who helped them to fly.

So here’s to the teachers, the hearts and the hands,

The patient ones who understand,

That their work is not fleeting, their love not in vain,

For through them, the world grows kinder again.

Their legacy isn’t in stone or decree,

But in every dream set free.

For the heart of a teacher beats bold and bright,

A beacon of hope, a source of light.

[effietrinket1619]

Effie your Lanternfam TikTok AU is driving me nuts and if I end up downloading the app it's all your fault (in a good way)

Jess posts a video of John and Guy talking to each other, but they set their rings to translate everything they say to be completely unintelligible. The linguists on TikTok are going crazy because it's very clearly a language based on how structured the gibberish sounds but it has absolutely correlation with any Earth language so they can't even begin to tell what is being said

On a related note, eagle-eyed botanists catch a glimpse of a plant in the garden that doesn't look like anything found on planet Earth. Is it an alien species? Is it even a plant? Did the Green Lanterns bring a potentially invasive species from outer space???

At some point, Jo begins showing up with a different hairstyle in every video. None of the Lanternfam acknowledge this, but the viewers are going insane because some of her hairdos seem to defy the laws of physics (they do, Jo is using her ring to make them work)

Simon has a whole miniseries of him working on the Lanternfam's car. They double as thirst traps because he's very buff and obviously knows what he's doing with those power tools. Keli's usually just off-screen handing him equipment and providing commentary

Jessica does a lot of gardening videos and mentions that she was in school for forestry before she had to drop out. Everyone assumes that she's a cutesy nature-loving vegetarian until she pulls deer meat out of the freezer and mentions that she hunted it herself

John built a bunch of hidden doors and secret rooms into the house. Some of them, like his office that's hidden behind a bookshelf, are just for fun so Jessica does show them on TikTok. But others like the armory or panic room bunker are because they're actual superheroes who need to be prepared if one of their nastier enemies like Major Force or Black Hand decides to show up. Those have some borderline lethal traps and Batman is very lucky he didn't set any of those off when he broke in

i spend like six hours on that fuckass app every day so other people don't have to. ignore the temptations, my brethren. you must.

every linguist i know and have seen are simultaneously the most passionate, clever and insane people i've ever had the pleasure of knowing. an alien language? i think that would send every linguist who watches and stitches that video into a genuine coma. or a rabid frenzy. depends. they're trying really hard to discern some of it while jess fights off collab offers valiantly. with a bat.

when people ask jess about her suspicious fucking plants, she literally films another video where all of the plants have been since removed and or spray painted/decorated to look like normal earth plants. people can very much see through it but she acts as if everything is totally fine. so does everyone else (simon does look like he's being held hostage with a rifle the entire time however which is suspicious)

oh yeah absolutely, though i'm pretty sure some hair types are just able to hold sickass shapes through the correct styling procedures and whatnot. jo will walk past the camera with her newest styling creation and a lot of them, while they look semi-plausible, are just impossible enough to plant a seed of doubt. jess, who knows exactly what jo is doing, tells her the new products are doing wonders. jo agrees and keeps walking. the viewers demand to know What Fucking Products but since jess is legally not allowed to do product placements (*cough* bruce *cough*), she says fuck all.

that miniseries with simon is great for a couple of reasons. keli almost always makes it a point to pass him the wrong tool whenever simon's wronged her in any way (sometimes she 'accidentally' drops it on his foot) and on occasion, like a wraith in the night, kyle will walk past and drench simon head to toe in water which makes viewers go feral because now they can see his abs through the shirt. simon seriously wonders how it got to this point.

i don't think enough people capitalise on the fact that jess is probably terrifying. this cements it. girlie has a fridgeful of deer meat that she hunted herself and as far as they'd known, she's a mild young woman with a mischievous streak and anxiety. i can assure you there is an immediate smear campaign against jess's name over the fact that she hunts and shoots and whatnot. it doesn't go far because jess should've died a million times by now and this cannot bother her.

i will say that bruce survived breaking in because the lanterns kinda saw this coming and accounted for that. the deadlier traps are activated mostly by actual commands, whether vocal or physical buttons/levers they need to press. there are some that are triggered automatically but john really cannot afford killing people who are (unfortunately) allies. generally the go to is get to safety rather than hope the traps work but they're definitely there. the hidden office is so john can disappear if things get too much. jess found out about it immediately because he always disappeared in one specific direction the moment hal and guy started bickering too loudly. are the others aware of this? unsure. but there are other things (which i'm too drunk to think of right now). bottom line: john is a genius and needs to be paid more.

[littlemissshifter]

𝚃Η𝞔 𝐹𐐛૦Ꮢ𝔸𐐛 ₊‧

✿﹒₊˚｡❀˚

﹒₊˚ 𝔸Ꮢ𐊢ΗƖ𝚅𝞔𝘚

{𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑝𝑒𝑡𝑎𝑙 𝑎 𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑦, 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑎 𝑘𝑒𝑦}

❀ All of my petals ❀

(gathered with stardust and ghost giggles)

╰❁ a genTle reRooTing ♡ (same essence, new soil)

• ✿ how to shift: the wildflower edition

→ (or: how to yeet your awareness across timelines like a pollen-drunk bumblebee)

• ✿ you shift with every breeze

→ (literally. even while blinking. you bloomed into a new version)

• ✿ what makes the petals drift?

→ (spoiler: it's you. it's always been you.)

• ✿ dreaming ≋ dimension-hopping

→ (lucid lilies and astral daisies, baby)

• ✿ shifting = you remembering you're magic

→ (you're the garden, the gardener, and the moonlight kiss that wakes the roses)

• ✿ cr = dr = you in a new bouquet

→ (same stem, new bloom. just as soft, just as powerful)

• ✿ don't force a bloom

→ (flowers don't scream at themselves to open)

• ✿ shifting isn't a skill, it's a season

→ (you don't "get good" at spring—it just arrives when the frost melts)

• ✿ myths, weeds, and misconceptions

→ (let's pull them out gently. or chaotically. your choice.)

╰❁ SEpals ♡ (the cradle of your bloom, not the essence)

• ✿ feel the seasons changing

→ (you deserve to feel because even flowers ache in silence before they bloom.)

• ✿ the bloom never questions the sun, it just opens

→ (knowing it's loud. it's a quiet opening.)

• ✿ you don't pluck a flower you love

→ (letting go is about letting it be and surrounding it with love.)

• ✿ the stem doesn't beg the petal to stay

→ (what's meant to stay will root, not cling.)

• ✿ acceptance is soft soil

→ (say yes to the roots, so the leaves can sigh.)

╰❁ THe husH BrEath ♡ (the bloom starts below)

• ✿ desire isn't chasing, it's unfolding

→ (your roots knew before you did.)

• ✿ the garden bends to your bloom

→ (reality blooms because you did it first.)

• ✿ there's only seeds you've buried

→ (imagination is your roots remembering bloom)

╰❁ blOOm nOteS ♡ (whispers of the garden)

• ✿ my first bloom

• ✿ petals of being a shifter

• ✿ you're not stuck, you're sprouting

• ✿ the roots already whisper your wants

• ✿ you are a garden of reality

• ✿ buds of belief (assumptions)

• ✿ thorned thoughts (limiting beliefs)

• ✿ wilted thoughts & doubt vines