#standing that way out of satisfaction not dignity

[luna-loveboop]

Ok so in the May art

All of them are our little gremlins we love who just had the best time destroying the pots.

And Time’s standing there all dignified so I think a lot assume he was kinda calmer…

But not only is Time holding the Biggoron’s sword, with his smaller one stowed away on his back, but he’s next to the largest pile of pots in the room near someone.

Bro went apeshit

[firelord-frowny]

!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ive always thought it's so wiiiiiiiiild that so many of these ~mansions~ that used to be slave plantations are now government-owned and converted into museums instead of being collectively owned by all black americans, liiiiiiiiiiike....

we should fucking own that shit! our ancestors RAN those farms! worked that land! built those mansions! yet somebody other than us is benefiting from it now???

honest to god i wish black folks could all own those properties like a timeshare lmao and we'd all be entitled to spend a few days a year living it up in our luxurious country homes in the deep south. catch me sipping lemonade on my veranda on a hot summer evening while my housekeepers clean up the kitchen after dinner.

[beautysamour]

sub miguel begging to cum after edging him? or any kind of sub miguel tbh.. please please PLEASE i need it for my health 😭🙏

edging miguel o’hara and having him beg ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨

— a/n: i got a little carried away…

warnings ﾟ𐦍༘⋆: vulgar language, miguel has the time of his life, quite literally fucking him stupid, miguel likes when you make him feel stupid while he’s needy

“Please, amor, just put them back in…” Miguel lifts his hips up trying to entice you to put your skillful fingers back in his ass.

His hole clenches and unclenches as he bucks his hips and tugs against the handcuffs restraining him from reaching out to you. You raise a brow, his attempt is futile.

“Amor,” he pleads, “I was so close—“

You made an obnoxious sound as you stretch your arms, Miguel’ heartbeat drums loudly in his ears. You remain in front of him, back straight and eyes on his dick, “Having you cum would defeat the entire purpose, right hermoso?”

A throaty groan leaves his throat at the nickname. He hides his face in the bicep of his left arm and pathetically bucks his hips trying to give you an easy way to his ass.

You snicker, it was always so satisfying to watch Miguel break in the palm of your hands. People looked up to him, figuratively and literally. Some admired, and some feared. Most were just intimidated, but never you, no.

How could you when all it took to have him withering underneath you was a finger?

His entire body jerks as you circle the head of his cock, “Miguel,” you purr. He bites down on his lip, drawing blood, at the way your voice circled through his head like a sirens song—tempting and dangerous.

He gasps at the taste of his own blood.

“Wanna see you Miguel.” You draw small hearts on his tip as your other hands rubs his hole, “You’re so pretty baby, don’t hide yourself.” You press a kiss on the insides of his thighs and a feeling a pride surges through you when you hear another part of him crumble underneath your hands.

The tip of your finger easily makes it way inside of his hole, a heart wrenching moan is heard by the man who owns it.

Your panty gets stickier with each moan, and whine, and whimper your man makes.

He bucks his hips when you don’t go further than just the tip of your finger. He’s dizzy, so, so, dizzy. He’s not sure how long it’s been, he lost track after the fourth time you took your, to his demise, talented fingers out of his ass and off his dick. He wants to cry but he won’t—it’s the last thing keeping his dignity somewhat intact even though you’ve destroyed most of it.

It was the one thing he would not give you the satisfaction of having. He tries to keep that thought clear in his mind but it’s hard when you circle your tongue around his pretty, red tip.

“Y/N—“

He bucks his hips towards you as you shove your entire finger along with a second one into his ass. He loses the ability to breathe as your fingers find his prostate immediately, “Is it good?”

You smirk as the back of his head flops onto the pillows, his face exposed for you to watch.

Yes. Yes it was, it’s always good because it’s coming from you. But he couldn’t say it—your voice swirls through his head and it renders him helpless. All thoughts in his head are about you—all he sees is you, feels is you, and hears is you.

All he can say is your name, and he moans it out for you to hear.

Your heart skips a beat and it’s tempo matches the pulsing of your pussy. “That’s good to know, hermoso.”

If all his thoughts corrupting into you and his lack of breathing made him feel helpless—it was nothing compared to now.

You carefully watch his expression as he pretty cock stands up straight, the tip so beautifully red, and his hips sporadically bucking up as you abuse his prostate.

You rub, and poke, and thrust your fingers in and out of his ass—your eyes darken with lust as you watch his face, you shove your hand down your panty and start to finger yourself— fuck, Miguel knew what to do.

Miguel arches his back, eyes rolling to the back of his head as you play with his prostate. He felt stupid, he had no thoughts in his mind but you—only you and all that was coming out of his mouth was your name as his ass chased your fingers every time you nearly pulled them out.

Mierda, you were so good. So good, it feels so good, so good, so good, so good, so good. His eyes crossed as you quickened your pace and dragged him closer to the edge, his ab muscles start to contract and—fuck, just a little more, just a little—

You started to laugh. Laughed at the way his mouth hung open, at the way his eyes crossed and rolled to the back, and at the way tears welled in his eyes.

This was so fun.

And gods did he sound beautiful as he begun to wept.

Miguel couldn’t remember what he was supposed to be thinking about. Everything before this moment was gone from his mind—his own name foreign to him. It hurt, his body was burning and his dick was so painfully yearning for your touch that he might never be graced with, and he wanted to cry.

He felt a part of his soul shatter as his tears wet the pillow beneath him.

He chokes on his sobs. He tries to reach out to you as you start to pull your fingers out of his ass, but his handcuffs restrain him and more tears escape him, “No puedo más, no puedo más, no puedo más,” he cries, voice coarse.

He nearly full on sobs when all you do is hum. He looked wrecked, his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat and eyes unfocused as he deals with the damage of not being able to cum again.

He pants and rolls his hips as you hum a sweet tune to him, caressing him everywhere except the place he wanted you to touch.

“Yeah?”

He sobs, “M—mhm.”

His hips buck up when you wrap your hand around the base of his dick, you push his hips down with your other hand to stop him from being greedy but it doesn’t stop the twitching of his body.

He chokes on his saliva when you take his tip into your mouth, and suck. You run your tongue all over his tip, going back and forth between kitten licks and circling around it.

Every few seconds, you’d drag your teeth around his sensitive tip as your hands went to his balls—Miguel felt like he was going to pass out.

You take your hands and mouth off his dick in one sudden movement, he whimpers and sobs as you deny him of heaven once more.

He got to the edge a lot quicker than you thought he would’ve, and if you were a second too late, he would’ve came.

That sensitive, huh.

You thrust to fingers into his mouth as he opened them to complain, “Miguel,” you purr and he looks at you like a wounded puppy as he softly sucked your fingers. “Do you want to cum?”

You pretend to ignore that fact that you put him in the situation, that he desperately wanted to because of how much you played with him.

He nods, moaning your name softly around your fingers as proof.

You smile, enjoying how sweet he was being. It almost made you want to let him cum right at this moment, but he wasn’t desperate enough. You’ve successfully broken his pride, you’ve made him cry and give up all the power he could’ve had over you, but he hadn’t realized something you wanted him to know and accept.

Something that would really prove he is yours.

You move away from his body, enjoying the way his head follows you like a lost puppy, and sit down on the pillow next to his head. You spread your legs pulling your panty to one side, quietly gasping as the fresh air hits your warm, wet pussy.

You tap your pussy, “Come here.”

Miguel looks up at his handcuffed hands then back to you, his eyes stupidly asking you how he’ll be able to move. You raise a brow making him feel more stupid.

You take note of the way his dick twitches and his mouth slightly opens

He tries to use his pussy filled brain to figure out how to get up, he rolls to his side and tumbles onto his front. His eyes roll to the back of his head as the smell of your pussy reach his nose.

He lifts his ass in the air, allowing him to push himself onto his knees and he crawls. He crawls until he’s in front of you and drops himself right in front of your pussy—you grab onto his hair as his warm breath hits your pussy rendering the cold air useless.

“Good boy,” you whisper. You whimper as his mouth fully wraps around your clit—“Fuck, Miguel!”

You laugh as you moan with how good he was moving his tongue, “You’re doing so good,” you praise as you start petting his hair. Miguel chokes against your pussy but doesn’t pull away.

Your head hits the headboard as nudges his nose into your pussy. You tug on Miguel’ hair—pulling him closer—as you groan in unison with him, the vibrations making your mouth drop open.

“Ye—yeah, right there Miguel, right there—!”

He grinds the sheets hoping that he’ll be able to catch up with you— “Amor,” he mumbles into your pussy, “Can—can I—?”

“Yes,” you moan, “Yeah, you can. Good boy, my good—good boy.”

Miguel stops moving his tongue and opens his mouth a little more when you squeeze your thighs around his head, he wanted to swallow every last drip of your cum. You tug his hair and he closes his eyes as you reach your peak.

You let out a string of curses as your vision goes white, Miguel may have no coherent thoughts right now, but he definitely remembered how to fuck you.

You shakily grind against him as you finish cumming in his mouth. His tongue is stagnant and you ride it through your orgasm. The moment is almost perfect until you realize Miguel is crying against your pussy.

You immediately snap out of your pleasured daze, genuine worry taking over your lust. You tug on his hair, lifting his face away from your pussy, and you try to ignore that feeling in your stomach when you see his beautiful, fucked out face with tears running down the sides of it.

However your worry diminishes when you look past his face and see how he’s still grinding against your shared bed.

Oh.

“Miguel,” you say softly, filled with love and care, “How do you feel?”

He looks up at you,“Can’t,” he mumbles.

You tilt your head to the side, “Come here.” You reach down to his upper body area and wrap your arms around his chest like a hug. You lightly pull him towards you and he crawls his way into your lap burying his face into the side of your neck, you reach for the keys for his handcuffs and unlock them. His hands and arms immediately go around your torso as he nuzzles his head against your neck.

“What do you mean “can’t” hermoso?”

He bucks his hips showing you the obvious problem, “Can’t cum.”

Oh.

You feigned ignorance, “What do you mean?”

He cries against your neck, he was too frustrated, too on edge.

He couldn’t cum. Not without you.

“I—I can’t cum. No—not without feeling you.”

There it is. The realization.

Your silence prompted him to continue, “It’s not the same, no—nothing feels as good as you—nothing can compare. Not ever since I met you, amor. Nothing is—!”

Miguel moans against your neck as he came in your hand. He twitches, and bucks his hips as his cock pumps out loads and loads of cum over your hand and lap. You look down, not that surprised at what happened.

All it took for him to cum was a simple pump from your hand. But you couldn’t care less about the mess.

What mattered was that he was really yours.

[elysiansparadise]

A powerful individual with an unbreakable aura whose gaze reflects the most sensitive of hearts and the most resilient of souls.

Aries Rising: The Survivor

Many of these natives have a clear vision of life: "Things don't happen magically. Do them yourself." They are people with a confident appearance, often considered attractive or sexy thanks to Mars ruling over there. Mars energy not only influences your breath-taking appearance, but also your attitude, independent, authentic and will never take bad treatment from others. They have created a strong appearance to face life, projecting themselves as self-sufficient people who recognize their value and will not be afraid to fight if necessary or if they are threatened. Wary, observant and with an initiative and desire to get what they want and achieve many things. Tension in their early environment is likely, so they grew up learning to navigate the chaos or at least not to easily falter over what they consider to be just the tip of the iceberg. There is nothing they do not defend with more passion than themselves and their dignity. They will constantly seek to know themselves more, give themselves the satisfaction of being able to grow more and more, and do what they consider correct or necessary to preserve their well-being. Once they trust and feel comfortable with someone, they can be fun, outgoing, and more communicative. They will not be afraid to enter new environments, meet new people or appear confident, but entering their hearts and close circles can be a complicated task.

When Taurus falls in the 2nd house, natives highly value security in every sense, clearly including financial security. Many of them may have the belief that they have to work on their own to achieve this security, making them highly independent. These people place a great value on comfort and pleasure, they will not hesitate to stay away from places or people that are another headache in their lives. They are very selective people with what they want to keep in their lives. Their self-esteem is usually linked to what they have, and not only in material terms, but also skills, achievements, people. They know how to give themselves their place and will not think twice about moving away from environments or people who do not appreciate them as they are. They constantly work on ways to improve their self-esteem, whether it's taking care of their body, pampering themselves, or doing activities that make them feel better. One of the values ​​for which they stand out is their devotion and perseverance. When they focus their minds on something they want, they do not rest until they achieve it. Many of them tend to use this tough and strong exterior to face life, because they feel better after knowing that they have been able to handle whatever life has thrown at them. Their value system is strong and stable, so they will rarely act against them. This means that although they understand that people may be different from them, they will not allow someone to try to tell them what is right or wrong, or if their values ​​are correct. They have clear priorities and adhere firmly to their principles. Many of them may feel a strong need to be self-sufficient and not financially dependent on others. They are very careful when it comes to managing their money or what their possessions are concerned, they are not careless with what they value or what they have a hard time getting. Possessive tendencies may exist, especially if the ruler is making tense aspects with Sun, Moon, Neptune or Pluto.

One of the best overlays of this rising is Gemini in the 3rd house, as it makes them eloquent, versatile and adaptable people in their way of expressing themselves. They can be good speakers, writers or have talent for any activity that requires effective, clear and, why not, entertaining communication. These individuals are constantly seeking new information and knowledge, although it should be added that they may quickly become interested in topics only to later drop them if they have already learned everything that was available or if they lose passion or interest. They love to learn and share what they know with others, and as a result of their interests they can form important bonds. These natives usually have a wide range of interests and can be multitasking due to their energy level or demand. These natives like to learn about many different topics and may prefer to learn on their own. They process information quickly and have a natural ability to connect ideas and concepts, and even find patterns where it might go unnoticed. Their multitasking skills allow them to be very efficient and productive in their daily lives. Their mind is always active and looking for new intellectual challenges. They may prefer short trips and need a change of scenery from time to time, as monotony can overwhelm and bore them. This need for movement can manifest itself in your daily life, with frequent trips and changes in routine.

With Cancer in the 4th house, these natives have a need for security since childhood. They give a lot of importance to the issue of protection, whether due to lack of care and/or attention in childhood or exaggeration of it. They are emotionally deep people who hide their emotions perfectly, because they know that it is something that is not given to just anyone. They prefer to deal with their emotions independently, especially those they perceive as vulnerable or tense. In childhood they could be very emotional, and from that stage of their life they experienced situations that forced them not to leave anyone in, to reserve their thoughts and emotions. Despite being strong people, emotional security is crucial for them, and they can seek environments where they feel protected and understood. They have a strong instinct to care for others, especially those to whom they themselves provide the family title. They may take on caregiver roles and seek to ensure the emotional well-being of their loved ones. They can find home and security with what seems familiar, comfort food, movies or things that remind them of happy memories from the past. Memories and experiences from childhood home can have a lasting impact on their adult life, this is due to their great memory to remember their experiences in detail, good or bad. They like their space to reflect warmth and security, and may have a penchant for homey decor and the details that make a house truly be and feel like a home. Many of them built a strong armor not only that others decide not to mess with, but that the most vulnerable can count on. Behind this strong, unwavering appearance that has experienced all kinds of situations, there is a gentle, warm heart that longs for that tenderness, comfort and softness.

Leo in the 5th house usually grants strong self-esteem and confidence. They are proud of their abilities and very aware of them. They are usually charismatic and magnetic, attracting the romantic interest of others with ease. They stand out for their sensuality and that authentic way of projecting themselves, they do not like to wear masks and pretend to be what they are not and they have the idea that if someone is going to love them, they must know and accept their real selves. Intrigue, joy and excitement are crucial in their love relationships and they enjoy courtship and seduction, both being the one who initiates it and being the target of it. Pleasure and fun are important aspects for these natives and they will never feign interest in things in which they genuinely have no interest. They like to enjoy life to the fullest, seeking experiences that bring them joy and satisfaction. They may have occasional bursts of energy and hyperactivity where they want to do many things at the same time. They enjoy activities that allow them to express themselves freely and entertain themselves. They are people who enjoy expressing themselves artistically and creatively, whether through art, music, acting, or any other form of self-expression. They like to excel at whatever they do and, whether they are aware of it or not, they may have perfectionist inclinations. They easily stand out from the crowd and can easily gain recognition, both in close circles and on a large scale.  They can be loving, protective parents who enjoy spending time with their children and encouraging their creativity and self-expression. They tend to be a source of inspiration and leadership for children, encouraging them to be themselves and follow their passions. They can be seen as role models and guides who help children develop their confidence and self-esteem. Extroverted, independent children with strong self-confidence.

Many of them are dedicated and reliable workers thanks to the presence of Virgo in the 6th house. They have a strong sense of duty and are very responsible in their approach towards daily tasks or what they consider to be their duty. Although they appear confident and have a high opinion of themselves and their abilities, they can be perfectionists, always seeking to improve and perfect everything they do. It is likely that just because they are aware of what they are capable of, they easily feel that they can do a better job even if they have already done it, since they may judge themselves very harshly, especially if they have made a mistake that they consider very serious. obvious. They can be conscious of their diet, exercise, and daily habits, always looking for ways to keep their body and mind in optimal condition. They are likely to feel hyperactive at times, and the fact that Mercury rules this house can make them tend to overthink things or be very nervous. They are very disciplined when it comes to work or carrying out tasks that they consider very important to them, and many of these individuals can have a strong sense of self-discipline, managing to finish things before deadlines.  They set very high standards and many of them are likely to push themselves to work or be productive even when they are feeling bad emotionally. They have an analytical mind and are excellent at solving problems of any kind. Many people tend to rely on them precisely for this reason, because they advise objectively and their blunt way of being can make others put their feet on the ground. For them there is nothing more rewarding than seeing the results of their hard work. In fact, it is very likely that after finishing a job they feel relief instead of pride. Actions and tangibles are what are important to them.

The presence of Libra in the 7th house makes these natives very focused on creating healthy relationships that bring them happiness. They, in turn, are capable of giving a lot in a relationship in a selfless and selfish way. It is crucial for them that both they and their partner feel comfortable, satisfied and loved, for them neither has to dominate or control the other, being a couple they seek that balance, that they both help each other to cover those points in which they They may find difficulty, someone with whom they form a strong, loving and lasting team, a person to support unconditionally and who will help them in return. Despite this independent and strong personality they have, they are loving people, dedicated to their relationships and very emotional. They put a lot of emphasis on building lasting relationships in which there is not only love or affection, but common goals and intellectual connection. These people have learned to be independent since they were young, but in them lies the fear of falling to extremes in relation to others, that is, they fear feeling overwhelmed by loneliness while they fear showing their most vulnerable sides due to the possibility of being hurt or being hurt. take advantage of them, that is where Libra energy aims to guide them to balance these ideas, finding the middle point in which they gradually open their heart. These natives have the lesson of allowing themselves to be loved and understanding that they do not have to be different to be loved, just as they are they deserve love. Their future spouse may be a loving person they can rely on, someone calmer and grounded. They will have both beautiful physical attractiveness and heart. It is a great indicator of a loving marriage in which both feel trust and affection for each other.

One of the things that is not talked about in such detail about this rising is how secretive they can be, their secretive nature is usually one of the least talked about aspects of them, and we attribute that to Scorpio in the 8th house. This overlay that demonstrates this tendency that they have to keep to themselves aspects that they consider important in their life, also activates the focus of others on the intense nature of the natives. They are people who do things in a dedicated manner, putting in all their energy and motivation, and they not only show this intensity when carrying out their plans, defending their individuality or standing up for themselves. They are lovers who keep you on the edge of your seat, who intoxicate you with sensations that at first surprise you, but at the same time you find yourself wanting more and more. For them, sex is a way to unite with their partner, to become oneself and completely immerse themselves in them and their feelings. They make sex an unforgettable experience for others, because despite that fiery approach that devours you inside and out, they take care of really connecting with you through sex, they make it seem like an art in which they are especially good. They look for emotional and sexual connections that are not superficial, but that touch the deepest part of their being. However, in addition to being those lovers who will have you thinking about them and who know exactly what they are doing, they contain someone who has gone through a lot in their lives, from tough situations, betrayals or in general, a set of events that has built those walls between others and themselves. Many of them may fear being very intimate with someone, because they know perfectly well that they are capable of loving someone madly and totally, and they fear placing all that love and affection on the wrong person, on someone who is like the rest. They are resilient and brave people who are not afraid to stand up for themselves no matter what problem awaits. They have faced life, many times on their own, which has made them very aware of the strength of will and spirit they have. Although they are not the biggest fans of change, they know how to adapt to it very well. These people often go through crises that force them to reinvent themselves and transform. They often emerge from these crises stronger and wiser, with a greater understanding of themselves and life.

When Sagittarius is in the 9th house, natives have an innate desire to learn and explore the world. They are motivated by a relentless pursuit of truth and knowledge in their highest forms, whether through formal education, philosophy, or self-study. Many of them are in constant search for truth and seek to understand the deeper meaning of existence. They may be attracted to foreign cultures, and it is common for them to develop a deep interest in the languages, customs, and traditions of other countries. They stand out for the wisdom they acquire thanks to their experiences in life; they can eventually become sources of wisdom for others, offering teachings that come from their own experience and understanding of the world. This placement also tells us about someone who is very likely to be influential or a source of inspiration for others. They live in a constant search to discover who they are and it is very likely that from a young age they feel interest in ways to get to know themselves better. They need to feel like they have the space to explore, learn and grow at their own pace and in their own way. They hate restrictions that limit their pursuit of knowledge or their ability to explore and be themselves. With Jupiter ruling this house, natives can have beautiful, memorable and enlightening experiences on trips, feeling “renewed” when traveling. Likewise, university time can bring many opportunities for growth for these natives.

With Capricorn in the 10th house we find a combination of ambition and discipline. These people are willing to work hard to achieve their goals and build a solid reputation. Although they may face challenges related to self-criticism and fear of failure, their perseverance and ability to overcome adversity often leads to success, especially in adulthood. Reputation is very important for these people and not only from a superficial perspective, but many of them like to be seen just as they consciously want to project themselves: independent, strong and capable of achieving everything they set their minds to. They dislike being seen as weak, as someone who others can take advantage of or even think about playing tricks on. They take themselves seriously and hate not being taken seriously by others. They can become very successful after a while and patience and perseverance can take them to the tops of those mountains they seek to conquer. They have the ability to make difficult decisions and handle important responsibilities, and it is very likely that from a very young age they have had to take on responsibilities that people their age did not have or should have. Many of them project this aura of power, people can see them as unattainable and, depending on the aspects of Saturn, even unreachable or demanding. Likewise, these natives give the impression of being very clear people with what they think, skilled in everything related to their profession or hobbies, and people can feel that they are reliable, righteous and honest. They have excellent ability to manage resources, time and people. Their ability to organize and plan is one of their greatest advantages in the professional world, all of which makes them very suitable for leadership roles in their work or even for starting businesses/being their own bosses.

With Aquarius in the 11th house, they highly value freedom within their friendships, as they prefer relationships that are not possessive and allow for a lot of personal space and freedom of expression. Their friends tend to be independent, original, and often people they consider unique. This can be an indicator of a wide network of contacts and social connections. They enjoy interacting with people from diverse backgrounds and, although they may have many acquaintances, the title friend is not given to many. People with this placement tend to be very very focused on the future, which may lead to anxiety or stressing too much over what’s going to happen. They are interested in innovative ideas and may be in social or political movements that seek change and improvement of society. They have a strong desire to contribute to social change and improve people's lives. These natives are likely motivated by a sense of social justice and a desire to make the world a better place. They find it difficult to conform to what is conventional or what is socially expected, and there is nothing that bothers them more than people placing expectations on them. They prefer to follow their own path and associate with people who share this mentality. While they can be excellent friends, they don't mind being on their own or having hobbies that only they participate in. Many of them give this vibe of being relaxed and rational to their friends and this does not mean that they are not affectionate, but rather that they prefer to maintain an objective perspective and avoid emotional dramas. They value equality and justice in their relationships, preferring connections where everyone is treated with the same respect and consideration.

You look up and stare in that mirror... What do you see, Pisces in the 12th house? Why do you look away? Because it seems that only you see the pain of your gaze? Or those wounds deep inside you that you don't let anyone else see. You know you isolate yourself, you learned to deal with everything yourself. You thought it was the right thing to do, to not be a burden, to not be perceived as weak or dependent, but even the strongest can break at times. You find peace in solitude, but at the same time you can feel drowned in it. A kind of relationship with her where it seems like you just got used to it while you understand that it is necessary. Nothing in excess is good, neither depending too much on others, nor carrying everything on your own. You fear returning to tense emotions, those of fear and uncertainty that forced you to face life on your own, believe me, that already makes you strong. Within you lies an emotional person, intuitive and perceptive of what is happening around them. Someone with a strong sense of empathy, someone who is the support of others that they would like to have, although they do not know how to verbalize it. Even when you look for that time of retreat in which to be immersed, to search for the truth within you, to find inspiration and reconnect with what allows you to feel better after hits of reality. You may be very hard on yourself, hating the idea of ​​victimizing yourself or not taking responsibility for your own affairs... but you no longer need to take responsibility for others either. Free yourself from those burdens that do not belong to you and that others have placed on you, free yourself from guilt for situations in which you did not have control. Within you there is a beautiful world that deserves to be not only explored, but cherished and appreciated, an honest and empathic soul with the capacity to love unconditionally, to create great things from dust, to inspire others to dream. A spark of curiosity in an immense universe full of things to understand, one more star in the cosmos that shines in a singular and unique way. Your mind is a palace full of ideas, questions and occurrences that could captivate anyone. Your heart, guarded by walls that protect it from getting hurt, being fooled, or allowing others to walk all over you, is full of warmth and kindness.

[undiscovered-horizon]

[Zoro is jealous of how impressed you are with another man's strength. A few insults and broken breezeblocks later, he makes sure he's the only man you have eyes on.]

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Roronoa Zoro is a man too busy to boast. He perceives his skills and attributes as a means to an end and not a goal in itself; achieving unmatched swordsmanship is but a method of becoming the world's greatest swordsman.

It's completely useless to waste one's potential only to earn fame and admiration. If one sees their abilities as a goal, they tend to abandon their growth once the goal is achieved, never discovering what they can really do. Therefore, boasting is a manmade border between the current state of things and the wonderful possibilities.

Or so he tells himself.

The crowd cheers again as the blue-haired boy breaks another stack of planks. Each time he adds one more obstacle, the mob of onlookers is sure that this time, he's bound to fail. They've been wrong so far.

Zoro and you have been watching the show from affair but only because you refused to walk away. Sure, on your adventures you have seen people or unimaginable skills and attributes. Nevertheless, the man on the makeshift stage is just that - a man. No Devil Fruit, no canons-for-arms or anything of this sort. Just a person with determination and years of practice.

"Damn, that's some strength," you say in awe. "It's amazing."

Zoro only scoffs, scowling while he stands with his arms crossed. "Come on, this is nothing."

"Oh, right, breaking a stack of five wooden planks with your bare fist is just a regular Tuesday, eh?"

"Definitely not for a twig like him," he answers while still glaring at the boastful plank-breaker. "A gust of wind could break his bones."

Something about his huffing and puffing doesn't sit right with you. After all, why does he care in the first place? Zoro is not the kind of person to be interested in things that are not directly connected to him. It's almost as if...

Is he jealous of the attention?

"You know what, Zoro?" When you turn to look at him, he notices the challenging glint in your eyes. You're up to no good, aren't you? "I'd love to see you try and break even one plank."

He scoffs again but this time he looks almost offended at the implication. "I wouldn't even get out of bed for one."

"That's not a good measure." You shake your head decisively. "It's already hard to make you get up." Then, an idea sparks in your thoughts - something he's sure not to reject. "Let's do it like this. If you can one-up that guy, I'll do whatever you want."

Zoro's brown eyes stare into yours with a new intensity. He seems to be trying to guess how serious you are about your promise. "Anything goes?" he asks suspiciously.

"Nothing that will tarnish my dignity." As a warning, you point your finger at him. "Or dirty my shirt."

Then, to your utmost satisfaction, he gives you a smirk beaming with confidence.

"You're going to regret this."

"I hope so," you answer.

He clenches his jaw at your frivolous tone, his mind racing in a thousand different directions at once. What do you mean you "hope to regret" your wager? What exactly do you think he'll ask of you?

No matter the answers to his questions, Zoro has found a new source of motivation inside him. He can ask anything. As nice as that sounds, and he's sure to let his imagination run amok, the more satisfying prize will be the look of awe you're bound to give him. If you're impressed with this boastful twig of a man, how dazzled will you be with Zoro when he beats him? Maybe you'll finally stop looking at other men like they're actually worth even a second of your time or a speck of your attention.

"Hey, wood boy!" Zoro exclaims at the top of his lungs while making his way through the excited crowd towards the makeshift stage. "Let's see who's stronger."

"A brave challenger appears!" The blue-haired man announces. Whispers erupt among the onlookers. "Or maybe he's stupid?" he directs his question at his fans. Then, when Zoro enters the stage, the man looks at him with a feeling of superiority smeared across his face. "I'll have you know, I'm the local champion."

Up close, the blue-haired man looks even less impressive than from the ground. He's rather scrawny compared to men of similar strength and he could definitely use a long bath. Zoro is almost offended that you'd look at this poser of a clown instead of him.

"Only local?" Zoro asks. He erupts in laughter, making his opponent's expression visibly falter. "Not much of a title. I've seen rocks bigger than this island."

The whispers turn into loud conversations as half of the crowd demands Zoro to take back his words and the other half begs for a showdown to see who's the true master between them.

"Ambitious!" the blue-haired man exclaims with fake casualness, clearly trying to hide his own uneasiness. "That's what I like to see. But I must warn you that breaking wood with the sheer power of your bare fist is neither easy nor simple. Are you sure you can manage?"

Zoro laughs again. His posture only grows with confidence while the other man seems to be becoming smaller with each of Zoro's insults. "Wood is for children."

The blue-haired man swallows nervously. Sweat trickles down his neck. "Alright then." He clasps his hands together, rubbing them to ease the arousing tension. "What do you propose?"

"Breezeblocks."

The crowd audibly gasps and you're not any different. To break something that can render someone unconscious, if not dead, without having to use much strength? Even for someone like Zoro, the suggestion seems more than audacious. True, you wanted to see him prove his bold talk but not break his hands.

But before the blue-haired man can protest or diverge the discussion, a group of eager men bring a load of breezeblocks on stage. Their eyes shine with impatience and desire to see uncommon strength as they take away the wooden boards and set up the first breezeblock for each of them to break. The hollow bricks are placed atop regular, clay bricks that the blue-haired man has used to lay the planks on.

With a light gesture of his hand, Zoro allows the apparent master to begin. The man stretches his arms and cracks his joints. Despite being visibly experienced in this art, there is a noticeable nervousness in his movements, too. As though he's not as confident as he was five minutes ago.

Measuring one or two times beforehand, the local champion slams his fists on the breezeblock. A muffled thud resounds and the crowd falls silent. Then, a loud grunt fills the tense air but not a speck of cement is lifted. The breeze block did not break but considering the agony on the man's face and the deep red of his hand, something surely did break.

Zoro laughs for the third time. Strangely enough, he seems almost suspiciously laid-back. He reaches for the blue-haired man's unbroken breezeblock and places it atop his. If the crowd was silent before, it's deathly quiet now. They don't even dare breathe, awaiting the resolution of this unforeseen wager.

His eyes meet yours and never stray as he punches the stack of breezeblock. They break, fall and crumble on the stagefloor. Zoro doesn't look phased in any way, nor does his hand look to be injured. Judging by his casual attitude, he can easily break a lot more than just two breezeblocks. Maybe one day he'll find out but not at the moment - that's not the point of his little show of strength.

Some people try to accost him or talk to him as he makes his way back to you but Zoro's usual glares and silence quickly mitigate their enthusiasm and soon the mob of onlookers just cheers among themselves.

"Alright, I'm impressed," you admit with a nod. "In capital letters."

"So, anything I want, huh?" He can't help the smile curving his lips. It's a big word that you've used - a little too big for Zoro's imagination because it too happily strayed in directions that might break his heart permanently if you reject him.

"I suppose you do deserve compensation for holding yet another title of a champion. The dreadful weight of success," you say in a dramatic tone. "Now, what is this 'anything' you've decided on?"

Truthfully, he hasn't decided yet. If this "more than friends, less than lovers" situation he has with you was a game of chess, he's just made his opening move. You played back and put him in a place where there are simply too many options to reconsider. So what choice does he have to make to have you in a checkmate?

[strawberryfairi]

"When he loves to tame his pretty, little brat..."

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆.⋆ Minors DNI⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ

Your boyfriend lives for the way you whimper and whine as his two long fingers curl deep inside your soaking walls, hitting that sweet spot that makes your breath hitch. He has your back flush against the cool marble of the kitchen island, watching your cute little expressions intently. "What happened to all that shit you were talkin' about, pretty girl? Not too much on your mind now?" He chuckles, that deep, low, sensual chuckle that makes your heart flutter against the confines of your chest. You pout in response with a completely incoherent sentence of nothing but pitiful mewls leaving your swollen, wet lips.

His free hand glides over your bare chest, your hardened nipples stimulated from the gentle touch, then wraps around your pretty little throat.

"Say it again, angel. Tell me what you told me earlier." He purrs with a level of smugness that made you want to roll your eyes in embarrassment. You remember exactly what got you into this situation....you and that sassy ass mouth.

You thought you were doing something earlier telling him you didn't want to be his girl anymore purely out of anger and frustration. Of course you didn't mean it. He just never takes you seriously when you're angry, just stands there looking at you thinking nothing but sexual thoughts. And he admits to it every single time too!

"I-I said...I'm not you're girl anymore." You answer shakily, refusing to break eye contact as you wanted to hold on to even a little bit of the dignity you had left. "Right...that's what you said", He pauses, nodding his head slowly, "But you know what I heard?" He asks mischievously, abruptly taking his fingers from your needy pussy. Your brows slightly furrow in curiosity. "All I heard is that you just want me to fuck you like the whiny little brat you are."

Then, in one swift movement, you feel every single inch of his big shaft bully its way into you tight hole. You cry out loudly, both hands instinctually gripping his muscular forearm. His strokes are relentless, so deep and forceful. He's got your cream immediately dripping down onto the island counter, all kinds of lewd, sloppy noises coming from your pussy.

"Still wanna leave me, baby?" He coos, looking down at you with sensuous hearts in his eyes. "Uh uh! Uh uh!" You repeat over and over between, shaking your head lazily side to side. Your legs start to shake, you could feel yourself already reaching another soul-lifting orgasm. He watches you with a prideful satisfaction as your pretty eyes roll back in ecstasy. "I-..I'm gonna cum!!" You cry, loud moans beginning to quickly morph into heavy pants. He quickly pushes you towards your climax, the tightening in your core reaching that unbearable point.

Then suddenly, he just...pulls out. Leaving you laying their with the most bewildered expression across your face.

"W-what are you doin-

"Aww baby, you really thought I was gonna let you cum after talkin' to me like that?" He quips, his tone irritatingly teasing. Your face falls, a blend of annoyance and embarrassment swirling within you. He really had you thinking he was gonna give you that satisfying kind of punishment. Maybe pushing you over the edge having you orgasm all through the night, but no. He chose to be a menace, leaving you unsatisfied and mad about it.

"You better not make yourself cum either, or else we're gonna have a real problem." He adds with a little devious chuckle, basking in the way you were quite literally fuming.

"I hate you..." You grit out with the harshest glare you could muster, slowly sitting up.

"Love you too, wife." He smirks, leaning down and giving you the kind of fiery kiss that makes your toes curl.

JJK: TOJI, GOJO, SUKUNA, GETO

TOKYOREV: RAN, IZANA, HARUCHIYO, KEISUKE, WAKASA, KOKO, SHUJI, KISAKI, NAHOYA (SMILEY), RINDOU

(Whoever else comes to mind...😏)

[yandere-wishes]

The Perfect Girl

Summary: Somewhere along the line the villain won and the hero lost. Now your life is nothing more than a cautionary tale.

 Part #2 of Imposter Syndrome but can be read as a stand-alone. Part #3 The Spider's web

Warnings: Dollification, yandere themes but like more than usual, abuse, violence, horrible Spanish, NO NSFW but the reader and Miles are 18+. Friends to enemies to one sided lovers. This plays out as a cautionary tale. 

Author's note: Can you tell I'm bad at writing Intimacy??😂🤣

You squirm uncomfortably on Miles's lap. Arms awkwardly thrown around his neck as you try to hide your face in his chest. Miles sits proudly, face void of emotions and voice overflowing with authority. He's barking orders to his underlings. For what you're not sure, you've long since stopped listening in on his conversations, your inability to do anything coupled with the innocent lives you know would be destroyed was enough to keep you awake at night. And consciousness was the last thing you wanted these days. 

It's been six weeks.

Six weeks since the Prowler defeated New York's last beacon of hope. Six weeks since he'd been welcomed into the Sinister Six as their newest member. They're shining star. 

Six weeks since he stole you away from everything you knew,

everything you loved.

You hear the padding of feet and the loud thump of the door. You're alone with him again. So the nightmare begins anew. You're reluctant to lift your head, to face your capturer. You hate him, you hate him, you hate him. It's funny how once, back when you'd still wore your beloved silk mask, you had used to count the minutes until your midnight rendezvous. 

Miles's fingers reach towards you, tilting your chin up. His smile is razor sharp, deformed as if he can't quite remember how to smile. "Muñequita" he mutters like a disjointed prayer as his fingers glide up your side. Drowning you in a sense of impending doom.

You stare into his eyes. Two voids that have seen every nightmare imaginable. Any saint, any sweet innocent boy whose been trapped inside the darkness for this long comes out as a monster. Stumbling through the night with knives instead of teeth and an appetite for destruction. Miles Morales may have been a human once, a long time ago. Before you met him, before the savior of New York met him. But now he's a monster, one who has long since buried any morals and dignity he may have once had.

Sometimes when the night rages on and you're caged between his arms and sentience. you wonder if maybe, just maybe you should go digging for any of the virtues that he's buried six feet deep. But when he laughs and tauntingly presses on a new bruise with his thumb, you conclude quickly that it's better to leave his good qualities dead. it's easier to hate him that way.

"How does it feel to sit in your arch nemesis's lap?" 

He jabs as he pinches your cheek. You let out a soft cry of annoyance as you shift your gaze away from your tormentor. 

Miles revels in your fall from grace. Adores pinching and probing you in front of his minions or the rest of his gang members. Loves taunting you after every failed escape attempt. You try to bite his finger, to make him feel a fraction of your pain. But before your teeth can graze his skin, he releases your cheek. He laughs, low and fragmentary. A haunting noise that reminds you that he barely counts as human anymore, just a heartless ghost masquerading as a real boy. "Trying to rebel again mi amor?". 

You fight the urge to pick at the flesh of your face or bite your fingers until you reach the bone. 

Miles's eyes narrow, annoyed at your lack of a response. He's growing bored, he always does when his pet refuses to play along. His gauntlet reaches for your neck. Squeezing as the claws bite into your flesh. 

you should let him kill you, give him the final satisfaction of watching your blood blemish the skin-tight dress he's made you wear. Watch as the life leaves your eyes. "let's try this again mami. When I ask, how it feels your response should be.."

"I love you Miles" you mutter, all deadpan and defaced. "Not like that say it the way I taught you" he hisses, a threat, you note wearily.

"Te amo Miles"

"Bino"

Sometimes you think that he's foolish enough to believe your reprised lie. It almost helps him deceive himself into believing he still has a soul left. 

He thinks he loves you. 

You think he doesn't know what love quite is. 

You use to be a hero, use to be revered and respected by all. You use to be someone, someone important. Laminating about all of this now will do you no good. 

You're nothing more than a doll now. Painted and dressed the way Miles likes, posed forever perfectly on his lap. Flaunted and paraded as all prize trophies should be. You guess it makes sense. To the victor goes the spoils. You wonder if you would have done the same to him if you had emerged triumphant that night. Deep down, where logic doesn't reach, you know you would. At least you would have let him keep his dignity. You're not like him, you're not a villain...

But you're not a hero anymore either. What are you supposed to be anyway? When questions like this bubble into your withering mind. You force yourself to choke down the idea that you're still good, you have to be. You're not like him, like them. You're afraid that someday you'll look in the mirror and every ounce of your virtues will have evaporated. You promise yourself that that'll be the day you do something drastic. To yourself or Miles, you're not sure yet. 

Miles's fingers trace the indents on your neck. Angry red puncture holes left by his steel claws. He buries his face in the crock of your neck. Licking the measly blood drops from the wounds before tenderly kissing his territory. "Stop it" you grumble trying to push at his chest. But he just growls in warning, ignoring your feeble attempts. "I got you a present, Mami" he whispers over your jugular. You flinch, as he detaches from your neck with a final kiss. He maneuvers you off his lap as he gets up and walks over to a closet on the other side of the room. Plucking out a necklace from one of the drawers. 

Necklace is a generous term. Its neck tight and studded. With a silver chain hanging dead-center that speaks of horrors untold. You know what it implies, you know what he's trying to say, trying to prove. You never thought you'd miss the Prowler's iron glad punches to your stomach but you think this might just be worst. At least back then you'd been able to fight back. Reimburse every punch with a kick or stab of your own. Now you are helpless, frail. Broken glass perpetually embedded in soft cotton. Something wild, something tamed. Golden specks of a crown long since shattered tint your hair. All ghosts of who you once were.  

"What do you say, muñequita," He says. In a tone that's sick, in a tone that's sweet. Like rotten nectar trickling down a destroyed paradise. Like boiling blood dripping from a broken heart. There's a click, as he fastens his present around your neck. An endless second before reality comes crashing in. 

"Gracias Miles" You reply as you feel your last shard of freedom disintegrate. 

You use to be something, someone. Carved from porcelain ideals and ivory hope. Divine ichor ran through your veins as you swung across New York's skyline. You had been chosen, but you hadn't been enough.

Now it feels like someone tore you apart. Ripped away your flesh, your bones, your thoughts, your soul. Stitched you up wrong with a rusted needle and a thread of ash. And all you could do was sit there and watch as your golden blood seeped through ruptured veins.

Miles grabs your shoulders. Pulling you close enough so the spikes of your necklace cut into his flesh. His lips bite yours teasingly before they finally merge into a dreadful kiss. He isn't the Prowler you remember, albeit you know that's wrong. He's not the Prowler you had fabricated when you'd thought that the two of you were both innocent souls driven to madness by this city. You use to think that Miles was beautiful, a moon-kissed face with stardust dripping from his eyes. Now you know the truth. He's nothing more than a nightmare, the embodiment of starless darkness and the terrors that lurk upon blackened city streets. He's not your friend. He never was. You were just so foolish and overwhelmed back then. 

"You're mine, héroe." His voice is nothing short of a dagger laced with venom. Spreading apathetic poison from your heart to your lungs and leaking into your bloodstream. You see blood behind your eyes when your eyelids shut. Feel the apprehension pounding in the hollows of your bones. 

You've long since hemmed every hole where your pride and glory use to bleed through. But it's so hard to keep divinity down when it's all you've ever known. This life isn't yours. This thing that Miles has forced you to be isn't you. There's still hope, you think. Heroes never lose hope. It's a lesson everyone learns, sooner or later. 

Later that night Miles kisses you again, this time whispering how to him you are perfection personified. The dark circles under your eyes and bloody knuckles validate that. He traces circles on your arms whilst telling you about how the Sinister Six plan to expand their operations to the next city over. All this makes you wonder if he'd ever been a sweet little boy, tucked under his mother's arm, whilst his father kisses his cheek. Of if he's always been a merciless monster who wears his kills like honor badges. 

You pray under your breath as he reminds you that you're no longer a hero. You wonder if you pray because you are human or if praying makes you human. There are still some fragments of hope bubbling inside you regardless of what he says. 

Miles likes to remind you that you no longer have the power to save anyone. That the villains won and the heroes lost and that's the way this story ends. 

You refuse to believe him. 

[starogeorgina]

𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲

Paring: Aegon II Targaryen x reader

Warnings: None

Chapter: 1.01

“Rhaenyra!” You continue to rapidly bang your fist against the door leading into your elder sister's bedroom. “Rhaenyra, open this door right now!”

You hated her.

“You’re a fucking coward to hide from me!” You didn’t care that your language was unfit for a young lady, a princess; Rhaenyra had cut you deeply, and you wanted to make sure she knew it. “Unlock this door at once!”

You hated her.

“I would have never done this to you,” you sob. “I loved you, Rhaenyra, my big sister. We’re supposed to look out for each other, not... I would never do this. Not to you, never.”

You only stop banging on the door when your fist is pulled back by Ser Criston. “You need to stop before you hurt yourself, princess.”

You knew he was right, but it didn’t stop the anger that was radiating through you. Not only has Rhaenyra humiliated you by sleeping with your husband, she has also given birth to his sons. Three of them. Something you were never even given the chance to do. Your brain comes to a heartbreaking realization, one that makes you want to scream as soon as you think about it. Rhaenyra doesn’t care about you and never did. You feel your knees start to weaken, and your stomach drops. The knight whispers, “I know you’re hurting, princess, but they aren’t worthy of your tears.”

You take a deep breath and wipe your fallen tears away, knowing that he was right. “Thank you, Ser Criston.”

“The queen heard about what happened and would like for you to join her in her quarters. She wishes to offer you her comfort.”

You blink away the tears, your vision becoming more clear, and when it does, you see your husband standing down at the opposite end of the hallway. No doubt he was coming to see her. He was staring at you, looking worried. You feel your heart harden, not wanting to give him or her the satisfaction of seeing you hurt. You push back the sob, desperately wanting to escape your throat. “Ser Criston, do you mind escorting me to the queen's chambers?”

“Of course, princess.”

—

“How could she betray me in such a way?”

Alicent wraps her around your shoulder; she seems genuinely concerned about you. You had managed to maintain a smidgen of your dignity by holding your head high as you walked through the castle, ignoring all the side-eye glances and whispers going on around you. One of Alicent’s ladies-in-waiting brings in a tray of tea that’s supposed to help calm nerves.

“Prin-”

“Y/N,” you correct with a weak smile.

Lord Strong nods, “Y/N, I am ashamed to admit that rumors of my brother's betrayal had reached me long ago, but I assumed there was no truth to it. It wasn’t until I learned about the incident in the training yard this morning that I came to realize it was true.”

You had spent the last year defending Rhaenyra and Harwin, insisting that Jacaerys and Lucerys weren’t fathered by your husband before you were married. Because of your age, you had yet to lay with Harwin, and you thought if he was going to stray, it would be in the streets of silk, not with your own flesh and blood.

“She swore to me in our mothers names that they were Ser Lenors true-born sons. How could I have been so foolish?”

“You aren’t foolish, my sweet.” Alicent picks up a cup of tea and hands it to you, giving you a sympathetic look as she notices your hands trembling. “You have been deceived, and I can only imagine what Viserys will have to say when he finds out.”

You shake your head. It was widely known that Rhaenyra was your father's favorite, and learning what she was really like could be the thing that breaks him. “My love for my father is the only thing keeping me quiet. He is sick; finding out the truth about what Rhaenyra has done might be the thing that kills him, and I do not want him to suffer. If I’m being honest, I don’t know what to do.”

“I find that praying helps me find clarity and reassurance. I pray to the mother nightly; you can join me if you wish.”

“Perhaps I should pray to the warrior as well as the mother.” You chuckle lightly. “I could really use the gods' strength and courage."

—

After visiting the sept the night previously, the queen had arranged for you to stay in a separate bedchamber for the night since your quarter was beside Rhaenyra’s.

In the morning, Ser Criston escorted you back to your quarters; with him by your side, nobody dared approach you. The knight made pleasant small talk and even managed to make you laugh. When you reach your quarters, you thank him before walking into your bedchamber. You sit down at your vanity and begin to unbraid your hair, only stopping when you hear the door opening.

“Flora?” You call out, hoping to see your lady in waiting, who has become a close friend over the years. “Flora, is that you?”

When you turn around, you’re stunned to see Rhaenyra and Harwin. At first, you were afraid that the sight of them would upset you, but now, as you sit in front of them, all you feel is anger.

You say nothing; you turn your back on them and shift your attention to taking the remainder of your braids out. You push down the lump forming in your throat when Rhaenyra kneels down beside you with tears in her eyes. You pretend she isn’t even there and get up to go pick a dress to wear once you are bathed.

“Y/n! Y/n, please,” Rhaenyra begs. “It happened before you were betrothed! I never wanted you to find out like this. Sister, please! Just let me explain!”

You had fully intended to continue giving her the cold shoulder, but hearing the word sister caused you to snap. You can’t believe she had the nerve to call you that. You spin around fast, and your expression pulls into one of anger and hurt as you snap, “Don’t call me that again.”

Rhaenyra steps back as if you’d struck her.

Harwin says, “I am sincerely sorry for betraying your trust.”

You scoff, annoyed that he seems upset when it’s you that should be hurt by his dishonorable actions. “Until such a time that I am of age to perform my duty as princess and your wife, I don’t think we need to speak again.”

“Princess…”

“You may leave, Ser Harwin.”

When the knight leaves, you turn to face your sister, whose eyes were bloodshot from crying, which angers you further. “Since the day Jace was born, I have loved him; the same is true of Luke. You’ve watched me play with them and sing to them. I’ve basically grown up with them, and not once did you ever think to tell me they were fathered by Harwin.”

“I tried to spare you the pain of knowing the truth.”

You can’t help the laugh that slips past your lips. “You must really hate me.”

She squeezes her eyes shut as more tears roll down her cheeks. “I love you.”

“No, you don’t. I’ve always looked up to you; I wanted to be just like you. My perfect big sister.” You shake your head, backing away from her slightly when she reaches for you. “Do not touch me.”

“When father told me about his plans for you and Harwin to wed, I tried to stop the betrothal; I really did.”

“I believe you,” you say, wiping away more fallen tears. You hardly knew Harwin; he would occasionally accompany you on walks around the garden, and nothing more than a kiss on the back of the hand was shared between you, but he was still your husband. “Both Jacaerys and Lucerys were born before the betrothal; I would have easily looked past that and done everything I could to help protect them. But Joffrey, he’s only a few days old. Even after I married Harwin, you continued to have an affair with him.”

You see guilt pass over her features before she drops her gaze to the floor and says, “I’m sorry.”

“I still love my nephews; that will never change, but I can’t be around them right now. Not after knowing what I know, it will just be a constant reminder."

“Of my betrayal.” Rhaenyra takes a deep breath; red patches have appeared across her neck and chest. “I hope one day you can forgive me.”

When Rhaenyra leaves the room, you throw yourself onto your bed, pull your pillow to your face, and sob into it. This was too much pressure for a girl of one and five to bear.

When someone knocks at your door, you groan a little, assuming Harwin or Rhaenyra had come back. “Go away,” you mumble into your pillow. You lift your head to tell them to go away, but change your mind when you see who it is “Aegon, what are you doing here?”

He avoids looking you in the eye and shrugs. “My mother said you were upset.”

“So you came to check on me?”

You weren’t much older than Aegon; before you had even celebrated your first name day, your father had remarried, and Queen Alicent was pregnant. You were surprised to see Aegon, considering he didn’t spend much time with any of your siblings.

He rolls his eyes and says, “No.”

“Oh, then what are you doing here?”

“Wanted to know if you’d like to go dragon riding together.”

You smile and say, “Sure, that sounds like fun.”

Aegon on Sunfyre and you on Ghost were exactly what you needed to take your mind off everything else that was going on.

[valtsv]

idk if it's an actual trope but i really love it when there's a scene in a film or tv show where someone tries to defend their position but gets overwhelmed and told to lay down their weapons and rather than slowly, carefully laying it down while trembling in fear, throws them down with an expression of visible disgust and barely repressed boiling fury, because it's such a powerful gesture of defiance. like, sure, i know i'm beaten and there's no way i can fight my way out of this, you've got me cornered exactly where you want me, but why the fuck should i accept surrender with grace? what dignity is there in repressing my honest feelings about how much this fucking blows? what good is there in being a 'good sport' about it when you're against everything i stand for? no, actually. you don't get to see the shadow of defeat in my eyes just because you're holding a gun to my head. you'll never know the satisfaction of breaking my spirit. i'll deny you what you want until my last breath. kicks my sword angrily and scowls.

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Oliver with a Twist

Aaron Hotchner has handled everything life has thrown at him, conquering courtrooms, criminals, death, divorce, fatherhood, and false imprisonment with dignity and grace. He’s a highly respected FBI agent, the Unit Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit at Quantico, an accomplished prosecutor, an excellent father and friend. Ever stoic, he’s the very pillar of strength that holds his unit above ground despite their being forced to delve into the minds of the worst that humanity has to offer day in and day out. He rarely allows himself to get emotional.

And he most certainly does not get jealous.

Hotch steps through his doorway with a case file in hand, pausing mid-stride on his way to Dave’s office when he hears the words coming out of Emily’s mouth.

“So how’re you and Oliver getting along as roommates?”

“Oh, he’s just the best,” you gush, and Aaron can actually hear how radiant the smile on your face is without so much as a glance your way. “Now that I can officially call him mine, I can’t believe it took so much convincing to make it happen!”

He drops to one knee on the carpeted floor, feigning the need to tie his shoe. It’s not eavesdropping, he reasons. After all, you’re speaking freely in an open space. In fact, he’s just ensuring the well-being of his agents from afar.

Crouched on the floor.

Hidden out of sight.

“I mean, just look at this picture,” your voice carries on in a downright giddy tone.

There’s a soft gasp and then an appreciative, “He’s so handsome,” from an awestruck Garcia.

“The cutest, sweetest, most handsome guy ever,” you assert, and Aaron feels a strange stirring of warmth deep in his gut.

He’s not jealous.

“He loves to cuddle all night,” you tell the girls, receiving a chorus of dreamy sighs and supportive hums in response. “Like, seriously, once we go to bed, he has to be touching me at all times. And he especially loves sleeping on my chest.”

Aaron’s cheeks flare red hot at that last statement. Maybe, just maybe, he’s a touch jealous.

“Lose something?” A pair of Italian loafers comes into view, and Hotch’s guilt-ridden gaze lifts to meet his friend’s poorly disguised smirk. “Your dignity, perhaps?”

Not deigning to give Dave the satisfaction of a response, Aaron stands abruptly and clears his throat, then raises his voice to be heard across the bullpen. “BAU team, round table room, please. We have a case.”

—————

Just under forty minutes later, the team is settled in on the jet and finding ways to pass the time on the way to Topeka. Hotch tries to devote his attention to the case file before him, but he finds his focus straying in your direction, honing in on the smile playing at your lips while you scroll through your phone. Probably reading a text from Oliver, he thinks, shocking even himself with the vehemence with which his inner monologue spits out the name. Unbidden, his thoughts drift off to the man taking what should be his place, if he just had the guts to take a leap of faith for once in his adult life.

Does this Oliver know how you like your coffee in the morning? (A healthy splash of hazelnut creamer and two sugars, for the record.) Does he know you secretly listen to country music alone in the car even though you profess not to like it in public? He probably has no idea that you used to love line dancing in undergrad, and that your worn cowboy boots are tucked into a hidden corner of the closet in your apartment. Or how about the fact that you used to be in theater as a kid and still hum Broadway songs to yourself while you work? Your favorites are from Heathers, although if he’s not mistaken, Wicked is a close second. Has Oliver noticed the way your nose scrunches up when you smile, or the tiniest dimple that appears on your left cheek when you gnaw on your lip in concentration?

Does he know just how lucky he is to have you?

Blinking out of his stupor, Hotch notices that you’re worrying at that damn lip again and god, if he doesn’t want to-

Why are you looking at him like that?

“Aaron?” The soft smile on your face and the way your voice ticks up at the end of his name tell him that wasn’t the first time you tried to get his attention.

“Hm?”

“I asked if you wanted to see a picture of Oliver? Rossi says it’s imperative you know about the new guy in my life,” you explain with a playful rolling of your eyes.

Hotch’s gaze darts to the older man, his lips pressed together in signature disapproval because Rossi knows damn well he doesn’t want to see that. But you’re already approaching with a beautiful smile, phone in hand, and Aaron squeezes the armrest to channel his emotions anywhere but on his face, trying to prepare himself for what he’s about to see and-

It’s a cat. It’s a cute little orange tabby with white paws, soulful eyes, and a notch missing from his left ear.

“This… is Oliver,” he says rather unintelligently, and you let out a soft laugh while nodding.

“Named after ‘Oliver and Company’,” you add for his benefit, as if he didn’t already know that’s your favorite childhood animated movie. “Isn’t he just precious?”

Aaron’s truthfully always been a dog guy, but in that moment, with the way you beam at him while proudly showing off your fur baby, he decides he can learn to coexist with a cat- and maybe even come to love it one day.

“Yeah, Y/N,” he concedes, his features softening into a smile reserved just for you. “Oliver’s pretty damn cute.”

—————

🫒 Read the next part of the Oliver saga here!

[A/N: This was inspired by my little girl, Olive, and my desire for Aaron Hotchner to be her dad and my daddy 😜 Also I’m lame and I like puns 🙃

Writing this brought me much joy, and I hope it makes someone smile :)]

AH tags 🖤 @gothwifehotchner

[angelofacidx]

Pet pt 2

CW: Drugging, kidnapping, abuse, etc you get it

Part 1:

Your wrists had been rubbed raw and blistered from the constant use of handcuffs and your incessant thrashing. The collar, Simon quickly found out, was not a good fit for you. When determined enough you could slip it over your head, squishing down your nose and tugging strands of hair out. It had been eight—no, nine. Nine days after your first escape attempt. You track the days from their computer in the office, straining your leg as far as it will from your fixed position on the floor until your foot bumps the keyboard and brings the monitor to life. Nine days since the incident, and fifteen since you’ve been taken.

The screened side door was open like an invitation when you’d gotten free from the collar, and who were you to deny a mercy? Your captors seemed to be gone every three or four days for a couple hours to make the trek into town. If memory served, you’d have about an hour before they got back. It was now or never. You were off like a bullet, whizzing through the yard and beginning your journey onto the desolate dirt road. Maybe there’d be a car to help you, or hit you. You didn’t care at this point.

About a mile up the road your prayers were answered. A big black beat up truck sat just to the side of the road, parked, and—Oh fuck. Johnny was the first one out of the vehicle, a deeply wounded expression on his face as he paced towards you, frozen in fear. You didn’t even register Simon following behind him.

“Told ya Johnny. Can’t trust mutts to behave.” Simon announced, smugly.

He set you up. He wanted to catch you in the act. The bastard.

Your memories come to a dead stop, the pain in your ankles taking the forefront of your mind. They’d snapped them when you escaped, as easily as busting open a glow stick. Your punishment left you unable to walk or stand, only crawl on your hands and knees, wobbly like a puppy.

The door to the office opened slowly, letting you know from the action alone that it was Johnny and not Simon who would swing the door open so hard it hit the wall.

“Brought ye some food and a blanket.” His voice calm as he puts the plate on the floor for you and drapes the blanket over the hard surface of the crate you’d been sleeping in at night.

You watch him take a seat on the office chair, his hand extending to your head and offering you a few reassuring and affectionate pats. As much as you hate to admit it, the act of kindness doesn’t go unappreciated.

“Simon says if ye eat up we can take ye in the yard tomorrow. Good for ye to get some air.” He says, offering you a small smile.

Your gaze shifts down to the plate on the floor. The same leftovers that had been prepared for you since you started your little hunger strike. There was no way you’d eat off of the plate with your mouth like a dog. Sure, it was a weird hill to die on but you wanted the dignity of a table god dammit. Simon warned you that you’d be served the same cold leftovers until you caved or died of starvation. The choice was yours.

“Not hungry.” You grumble up to Johnny, wincing slightly as you try to shift away from the plate. Your ankle pain makes itself very known.

“C’mon sweetheart. I ken yer starving.” He says with a click of his tongue, picking up a piece of cold chicken off the plate.

“Open up.” He hums, extending it towards your mouth.

You do open up alright, but completely pass the food and opt for sinking your canine teeth into poor Johnny’s forearm. It’s petty and childish and not something you’d normally do, but you want him to feel a fraction of the pain you do. They want a wild animal? They’ll get one.

Johnny lurches back with a hiss, holding his arm and trying to rub out the grooves your teeth left to give himself some relief. Satisfaction washes over you for all of two seconds before your face smashes into the ground, a boot holding down the base of your skull.

“Stupid bitch.” Simon grunts from above, pressing harder until you squirm and cry out.

The boot is replaced by Simon’s hand weaving itself into your hair and yanking you up to meet his icy gaze. How is he always so quiet? How long had he been standing there?

“I’m done with your little games and tantrums. Open the fuck up. Now.” He says, his voice pure venom and malice.

You follow his demand, letting your lips part and head tilt back, balancing on your aching knees and trying to keep pressure off your injured ligaments.

“This is your fault too,” Simon quips as he rips down Johnny’s pants and boxers revealing his soft cock. “Coddled it too much. Now it thinks actions don’t have consequences.”

Johnny’s hips are pushed forward until his pelvic bone meets your nose and his cock is guided into your mouth by Simon’s hand. Feeling it begin to harden makes your eyes widen, beginning to sputter and choke, but Simon simply forces you back down onto him.

“Stay.” He commands, lowering his tone and exiting the room.

Johnny casts his eyes down to you, his expression half lust and half pity, his lower lip jutting out slightly as he tries to reassure you with a hand through your hair. It works temporarily and you scold yourself for feeling anything for someone who had a hand in your capture.

Simon returns shortly with a single long black paracord woven between his fingers. Quickly, the cord is secured around the base of your skull and meets around Johnny’s ass where he loops it a few times before tying it off; effectively trapping you to Johnny’s pelvis with his dick crammed down your throat.

“I will be back in an hour and we will try dinner and bed time again.” Simon announces before slamming the door, leaving you to overstimulate Johnny’s cock with your sputtering as you fight to breathe.

You’ll definitely take this as a lesson.

[zuyoo]

s-aint. yūta x afab!reader, ﹙외설﹚ drabble

CONTENT WARNING — college setting, mdni! suggestive content, mastermind yūta (real), mentions of onIyf4ns, jerking off, subtle pervy themes.

SYNOPSIS — wherein the classroom’s good boy, okkotsu yūta, finds out the quiet girl’s secret… your secret.

ZUYOO’S NOTES — ohoho dirty, dirty boy (i love him) p.s. click the “s” in s-aint to see the masterlist!!

given how much people ask for his assistance on a daily basis, how come you’ve never asked for his help? it was concerning, unsettling, suspicious even.

it bothered him to the extent that he tried to find any way to help you, and grabbed those chances every time he does.

you emitted an aura that entices him. as in… if you were in a crowd of people, he would immediately notice where you were standing. an aura that captivates him… like, a sense of familiarity?

“good morning, [name].”

“oh, hey! good morning, [name].”

“you’re early today, [name]. good morning.”

he greeted you with delight, every. single. day. asking you questions regarding your morning to lengthen the conversation. he could sense your hesitance at first, but you grew comfortable with it eventually.

he loved feeling a sense of responsibility. the concept of him being the “reliable” one excites him. though, being the only one people usually depend on is tiring. to why he could never be more grateful of his apartment, his safe space to be himself.

he finally gets his peace and quiet, his alone time, where no one can see and disturb him from doing what he wants.

it would be such a sight to see the class’ renowned saint just jerking himself off, on his bed, to a girl on social media… right?

what would he ever do if someone were to catch him moaning out a name of some girl he doesn’t even know and haven’t even seen yet?

he discovered an account called ‘kissnyx’ on a random frustrating monday, who would’ve thought that it would turn into an addiction? certainly not yūta, himself.

after forming a habit of scrolling through “nyx”’s account, he looked forward to getting home as soon as possible and finally being able to let out some frustration. it didn’t take long before the said habit turned into a hyper fixation.

yūta is simply lucky that he still has the right amount of dignity and control to keep up with his image in school.

yūta, as a class representative, is usually the one who arranges papers of the class; test papers, assessments, projects, and such. where he noticed your name. your scores in some subjects were great—the others were… below average? per se.

which is when he suggested to your professor to allow him to tutor you and get your grades up on your weak subjects.

being the saint yūta is, the professor agreed there and then. the professor immediately contacted you regarding the tutoring session.

the professor was about to do everything himself, the schedule and such, but yūta volunteered to handle it and asked for your contact so that he could contact you instead.

“my, my. you’re such an angel, yūta! well, now that that’s settled. you can check my class record for her contact number.”

“thank you, professor.”

he saw this chance to finally be able to help you with something without you asking for his help. and a chance to get closer to another classmate. he has an image to keep up, he needs to feel self satisfaction in what he does before he can actually rest.

not so saintly of him, right?

it kind of looked painfully obvious that he was desperate to help you, as if he liked you. but given that he helps everyone around him, people disregarded his action towards you since it was “the normal” for yūta anyways.

as per the agreement, you two only met for your tutoring sessions on tuesdays and thursdays. it felt awkward during the first few sessions, but it didn’t take long for the both of you to feel comfortable in each other’s presence.

this is also the time when yūta slowly notices the small things, the small habits that you do that is somehow constantly reminding him of the account kissnyx.

as much as he tried to disregard it, it bothered him. your very presence bothered him because it felt… odd? for some reason.

his gut feeling felt that the [name] he was getting to know isn’t really who you are… but that would be impossible, right? you’re too innocent and quiet. he couldn’t imagine you being someone like “nyx”.

like, sure… you have the beauty- and the body… that a guy would love. given how you dress up in school, no one really notices how beautiful you looked. but then again, you and nyx were two completely different people. maybe it was just his delusion.

it was obvious that you were covering your tattoos because it was against the dress code, so perhaps the tattoo you could barely cover with concealer that he saw in between your… defined… collarbones were coincidentally the same like nyx’s.

perhaps you both also coincidentally share the way you cover your faces with your hands when you’re flustered or embarrassed.

maybe it’s just a coincidence that your nails were the same colors as hers that one wednesday.

or that you both have a similar mole near your smooth shoulders.

sure, there were one too many coincidences, but he’s trying his best to not think of your face when his fingers were wrapped around his cock, stroking it as nyx’s moans can be heard in the background.

was it a crush? no… not really… right? but the thought of you possibly being the person behind his one and only favorite alter account…? fuck.

he felt so- dirty. thinking of his innocent, quiet classmate while he fucks his fist in his pitch dark room, filling it with the sound of his groans and slick from the constant pumping.

“shit- need y’… i need [name]-”

his actions stilled, even he was surprised by what he just said. did he just moan out your name?

his cock twitching from the sudden loss of friction but he couldn’t give a fuck less. your name rolled off his tongue so smoothly… too smooth to his liking. he knew that very moment that he wanted you with him… he needed you with him.

masterlist.

—rbs & comments r highly appreciated!!

© zuyoo — do not copy, plagiarize, or translate my work without my permission. i only upload my work in tumblr.

[kittyslvs]

NOTHING NEW ; SATORU GOJO

pairing: satoru gojo x fem reader word count: 1k (1029) summary: she always gave him everything, and never received anything. mari´s note: i wrote this about two weeks ago, but i got stuck. maybe if i upload it, inspiration will come back to me and there will be a second part lmao

After Suguru's incident, Satoru was never the same, it was logical. He felt alone and with no one to listen to his lament; a lie.

Lie, because y/n was always there for him; as his friend, as his lover for a few nights, as a classmate; but Satoru always took every sign of affection from the girl, and threw it away; because what she gives to him, means nothing. Nothing new to the young girl, but it ached in every nerve in her body just the same.

Y/N knew about this, but she always hoped that Gojo's attitude would change, and apparently after that, it did, apparently.

The white-haired man always called her at the end of the night, and she, hopeful that he would finally see what she had to give him, she always went, again and again; but she always came back with the thought of "tomorrow will be the day". It wasn't.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months; the hope and affection for him was waning. It seemed that y/n was the white-haired man's plaything of personal satisfaction and relief; y/n felt like shit, she felt that her personal worth was reduced to whatever a man wanted to give her, crumbs.

She had tried to talk to him about the situation, but the brave Satoru Gojo always evaded her, getting angry or ignoring her for days, only to call her back and go back to his routine.

At this point, she felt like a living dead, nothing new.

the clock on her wrist read 1:50, she had no reason to be awake at that hour; if not for the "recent" argument with the boy. Her face was full of tears, her eyes swollen and her cheeks red; she blamed satoru, but more she blamed herself for allowing him to have that effect on her.

And the stupidest thing was that they had been there before, in that fight, in that moment. Honestly, y/n felt she no longer had dignity; she had lost it when she accepted his haughty attitude countless times.

Y/n grabbed her phone, wiped her tears and left her room on her way to the kitchen, her steps were slow and listless; she felt that if she stayed in her room a moment longer, she would die. For Satoru was so audacious to go to her house three nights ago, take her with fake "I love you's" and more to her room; but, he was drunk, she wouldn't do that with him being almost unconscious, that's when Satoru pushed her, throwing her to the bed and started to take out everything he had inside of him.

"Please 'toru, you're drunk" the girl spoke while holding his face, so that he would stare at her. "You can barely stand on your own."

Apparently the latter was the worst insult for Satoru, who stared at her with rage in his eyes, took a few steps back and pushed the girl, who fell on her bed, surprised by the man's reaction.

"Don't you dare say that, I can hold my own, I can do everything by myself" as he spoke he staggered softly and pointed at her with anger and repudiation. "I am not like you… Of course not, I'm not a person who can't stand on his own, who needs someone to give him false declarations of love to feel enough. I will never be you." As his words went on, so did the woman's tears run down her cheeks. Although Satoru's voice was slightly stuttering, he could not hide his hatred for the young woman.

Seconds passed in silence, Y/n staring painfully at Satoru, as he stood in front of her face; the man sketched a smile and grabbed her cheeks, being drunk and angry he did not mediate his strength.

"Look at you, youre weak, I am your weakness and I always will be. No matter how many times I use you and discard you at dawn; you will always return to my call, isn't that sweet?" He ended with a chuckle as he roughly wiped away the young girl's tears.

Y/n felt humiliated by her great love. She looked at him with tears in her eyes and with the little strength she had, she removed her dirty hands from his face, took her own hands to that area, backed as far as she could on her bed and began to whisper.

"Get out of here..." she could barely understand herself, but she knew that he was listening to her, who only approached her with slow steps and a smile on his face.

"I didn't hear you, can you repeat that?" he spoke with sarcasm in his voice, thanks to the liquor in his system.

The young woman gritted her teeth and smeared her nails on the palm of her hand, to look at him with the same hatred he was directing at her.

"I said go away!" she shouted as she threw a pillow at the man's face. "You're not strong, you're nobody to come and say all that to me and in my own house! Or don't you remember who was there for you after what happened with Suguru? Who was feeding you? Because you were so depressed you could hardly speak. Or that you don't remember" finally y/n was able to respond to his attack. "You and I are the same, Satoru" She finished by unburdening herself a little with him, who had a face of stupefaction and regret. They spent a few minutes in that position, both standing there staring at each other, with many things to say but not wanting to fight anymore.

Y/n broke the silence, with a whisper-like murmur, his voice trembling from the crying produced by the albino.

"I think you'd better leave, Gojo" he in response turned on his heels and walked out of her room, then out of her house. And that was when she was finally able to let out her pent-up emotions, crying for a long time.

She still couldn't believe Gojo's cynicism, and it pained her to know that everything he said was true, "drunks and children don't lie".

uploaded 28/11/2023 ; 3:41 pm like and repost if you like it !!!

[planet-dusk]

🏷️ f!reader, exes, hate sex, unprotected sex, jealousy

“not here,” you object, gripping the kitchen counter and arching your back to make sure he’s hitting the right spot. “anyone could walk in on us.”

“it’s a little too late for that now.” changbin’s fingers grope and squeeze your tits roughly. “you act like you can’t stand me but here you are, all sloppy and wet for me. how embarrassing.”

“save me the sweet talk, sugar,” you bite back. “you’ll need it for what’s-her-name, that blonde girl? the one you’ve been chasing all night like a sad puppy. it’s pathetic how pussywhipped you are.”

“you're jealous.” 

“don’t flatter yourself.” you roll your eyes at his smug tone. you used to like the confidence with which he carries himself. now you can’t stand seeing his cocky smile. 

“besides, i’m the one you’re balls deep inside of.” 

the words come out more breathless than you’d like, courtesy of his thick girth. you fucking hate how good his cock feels. even after all this time. especially after all this time. 

changbin chuckles and looks down at where his hips smack against your ass with every stroke. “you might be a bitch, but i’ll never tire of this sight.” 

it’d only taken two hours of shooting daggers at each other before he’d bend you over felix’s brownie mix. faint voices drift down the hall and you realize sooner or later someone will notice the two of you are missing. 

it won’t be difficult to do the math.

“just get this over with and make me cum. if you can.”

changbin’s hands tighten their grip on your hips. bingo. he may not care about whether or not you’re finishing tonight but he cares about his reputation. 

“not too keen on our friends finding out you’re creaming my cock like a desperate little slut?” 

the man’s perceptive, you’ll give him that. but despite his words his right hand finds its way down to your clit, fingers circling the sensitive bud. 

“don’t act like you’re any better,” you counter weakly. his skillful motions make it impossible to think straight. “bet just the thought of me still gets you hard every night.” 

his lack of response is enough of an answer to you. it fills you with a twisted kind of satisfaction. you’re not sure why you care in the first place; you were the one to end your relationship, yet you can’t seem to stay away from him. 

as your bodies fall into a familiar rhythm sharp words are replaced by barely restrained moans and whimpers. when you close your eyes you can almost pretend it’s like the old days, before jealousy and anger turned things sour. 

you’re pushing back to meet every thrust and changbin must realize you’re close because he brings his hand up to cover your mouth. it’s a clear sign for you to let go, so you do, trying not to think of the fact you’re falling apart at your ex’s doing. 

there’ll be enough time for regret later. 

so you focus on the delicious drag of his cock between your walls and on his fingers rubbing your clit more gently now you’re on the edge of overstimulation. changbin knows your body like no one else and you wonder if you’ll ever find something like this again.

this is why you keep coming back to him. he’s ruined you for all others. 

changbin’s hips falter when he feels you clench around him and he has to use both hands on your waist to steady himself. “where?” he asks, voice colored with desperation. 

you appreciate despite everything there’s still some courtesy left in him. 

“anywhere but inside.”

you don’t care about the mess. no, you’re scared of how much you want it. how you wish he’d fill you up, claim you, fuck his cum into you until you’re filled to the brim and it leaks down your thighs. 

when he pulls out to jerk himself to completion it leaves you aching and empty. your spent hole clenches around nothing when he comes with a low groan, spurts of hot cum landing in his own fist. 

you pull your pants up and turn around, scrambling to gather what’s left of your dignity. his hair sticks to his glossy forehead and you brush some of it away before you can stop yourself. there’s not enough space between the two of you; his broad chest almost touches yours and you can feel the heat radiating off his body. it’s suffocating, and suddenly you’re too tired for mockery and cutting remarks. or worse: anything resembling tenderness, like the way he’s looking at you right now. 

quickly, you grab a plate with brownies and slip past him without a word.

[jujutsukgojo]

The Fourth Leg chapter 2

Summary: How it began.

tw: yandere, stalking, kidnapping, death, adult scenes/implied, violence, flashback scenes (a lot but that just happens), angst

an: this took me so long to edit omg.

Chapter one

------

       THEN

 Chrollo stands with his friends, his comrades in this endeavor for a safer Meteor City. The first one to arrive at the meeting is Uvogin, of course, then Phinks. Phinks combs his hair and yawns. “What’d ya plan this time, boss?”

  He’s decided to create a plan to steal a map. It’s going to be dangerous. However, he knows they can handle it. They are thieves and take what they please, especially if he commands it. Besides, they owe him. He hasn’t forgotten their stupid plan all those years ago and how innocent blood is splattered on everyone’s hands. Well, except for Phinks, he assumes.

  Even if all of these people argue with him about it, nothing can take away his satisfaction. Yesterday, he had the time of his life. Finally, after years of adoring and pining, he’s claimed you. Not as a friend whose heart already knew who it belonged to, but as a man and your boss. He’ll never forget it. He read so much on how to please and did it just for you. 

  It meant everything to get you to join and for you to submit to him. He, Chrollo Lucilfer, tamed you. Without violence or black mail. Just pure delight and passion. He’s taken your virginity that you so willingly gave to him in the house of mirrors, and greedily took all he could afford. Seeing your tears from your orgasms, how you tried to cling onto everything you could as he ravaged you, how amazing you felt, is something he’ll never forget. Such sweet cries and moans left you so tired. 

And God, how you taste is more addicting than any wine. More satisfying than any substance imagined. You will never deny him of that. Of all of this. He’s mapped you out and is determined to feel you clench around him again. How could he not? You were his the moment he met you. Everyone knew it except for you. He took you under his wing and protected you. Catered to your every whim and was patient beyond belief. 

  Now, he’s proven himself to you as a man. One that can hit the deepest part of you and make you shake and have your eyes roll. As your boss, one that you submit to, and only him. No worries, he’ll always treat you like a treasure that a dragon would cherish. After all this time he has wanted you. He has always been completely besotted with you. There is not a power or ant in the world to make him let you go. 

  You took him wonderfully and made him see heaven. A place he didn’t think he’d step foot in. Maybe you’re the way there. Every look you give, noise you make, your touch, the dreams you have, and your glorious taste, lets him know it's true. 

 He takes a deep breath to calm himself down at the memory of last night. The remaining bits of the Phantom Troupe come into the broken-down building. Some sit on debris, the others stand with their arms crossed. Recently, a new recruit has entered the fray, number eight. It’s a man of average height, thick wavy hair, and pure green eyes. He decided he was done with not fitting in with the world and joined. 

  Chrollo doesn’t know his nen ability. From the looks of things, he might be an emitter. He’ll give him one thing: number eight is smart by not telling him what his nen ability is. 

Chrollo hears the crunching and ruffling of a bag. He looks towards the noise and sees you come in. He can’t help but feel a smidge of pride when he sees your slight limp. No one knows what transpired between the two of you. So, maybe your dignity will be spared. 

   He can see their disappointment at your arrival. He shoots it down quickly. "Enough, she's part of the Spider now." His eyes never leave you. Machi asks how you're useful. You stick out your tongue and refuse to share your chips. Phinks groans at that and crosses his arms.

 “She’s the fourth leg.” He declares, clearing away the disappointment they have, especially when it's revealed that you're an exorcist. You look up at him with such pretty eyes. Do you know how beautiful you are? How cute you look right now, crunching on a bag of chips? Not to mention, you sat down next to him without complaint. You just automatically did it. Finally, you’ve realized you belong to him. His thoughts are interrupted by number eight. 

“Very nice.” Chrollo’s eyes flick over to him. The bastard’s head is cocked to the side and his fingers are on his chin, like he’s appraising you. Pakunoda nudges him and tells him to stop. The damage is already done. Chrollo will not tolerate this. 

  In due time, he’ll make an example of him. Not in front of you, of course. Chrollo would hate to scare you. So, he’ll wait. He has always been patient. 

________________

A few years later, Chrollo has once again come up with a plan. It all started with Sheila telling one of the members about the Kurta. As he is told, they are responsible for Sarasa’s death. Not only that, but they hold scarlet eyes which are one of the wonders of the world. You only heard the last part. You completely skipped over their alleged part of everyone’s dear friend’s demise. 

  Her name still causes soreness. Especially with you. Although you understand and have accepted that she is gone, it still hurts you. It was unexpected for Sarasa to end up the way she did. 

  Now is not the time to think about that. Especially when he welcomed you into his place after planning on making your favorites. Once, he had read that a date could be something simple, like cooking together. That was the plan. Dinner and a movie maybe trade the movie in with him reading to you. You always loved to hear him read.

    The two of you get your stomach full of mediocre food. The plainness of the dish was mainly because of Chrollo, he’d say. He’s studied up on cooking before and watched all of those channels but still cannot hold a candle to you. The two of you settled on a couch he stole a while back. You had sat on it one day and demanded to have it. Of course, he did as you wished. However, he put it in his house as an excuse for you to come over more often. It worked, surprisingly.

After getting cleaned up and a few more kisses, he tells you only a little about his gift. “Our next heist is going to give you something beautiful. Something you will really love. Are you excited?”

   You sleepily nod. He leans back, letting you snuggle to his chest. He wraps his arms around you like a lover would. No, he is your lover as you are his. Lately, the two of you have been doing things together a lot more. Just like a couple would.

  He rubs your back and speaks in a soft voice, “In order for it to succeed, I need your absolute cooperation, understand?” You nod. He can’t help but give you kisses wherever he can. He swears he hears you purr when you hug him back. He’s so happy. 

  The next day, the Spider leaves to find the Kurta. Everyone thinks it is the Scarlet Eyes he’s looking for, and while that is partially true, what he really wants is the Dark Sonata that the clan holds. It’s cursed, so you’ll need to purify it. Your gift will be beautiful and done masterfully. While Feitan’s beloved fancies odd gifts like flesh or appreciates whatever he finds, Chrollo doesn’t think you would like a random toe for a gift.

  To perform the most legendary music for you…the smile you’d have would be picture worthy. Something to belong in only the highest museum. 

   He’d have the Troupe play it since everyone has been told to take up an instrument. He told them that it’d help with their nen. In reality, they’ll play it for you. Your very own orchestra. Besides, they owe him. Forever, and always. He loves them dearly. They are his friends. 

  The elder meets him at the center of their settlement. The Kurta stands around, encircling them. Most are close to their homes, tents with blue fabric with Kurta clan symbols on it or the few buildings around with the same fabric draped on the stone.

They look nervously at the thirteen guests. 

Chrollo gives him a dazzling smile and kind eyes. He speaks to the elder calmly. The Kurta’s eyes widen with horror etched onto their faces. Chrollo knows you can’t hear what is being said since you are a bit farther away. You can’t tell that he is demanding their eyes and next will be something magnificent. The Head leans in and whispers to the elder, “Where is the Dark Sonata?”

“I’ll never say.” The elder shakily, and stubbornly, states. Chrollo hums and decides to perform. He loudly asks, “And why did you commit such a sin against Meteor City?”

  The members of the Troupe subtly look relieved. Had he been anyone else, it wouldn’t have been caught. Alas, he is a connoisseur of observing people. He loves to study them. Plus, he is familiar with his friends.

  “Boss, you really want those eyes, huh?” Nobunaga asks. Chrollo smiles. “Hm, among other things. Let us revel in their glory. That’d be nice, wouldn’t it?”

  “Chrollie…what are you talking about?” Your nervous and sweet voice, asks. “This is the job, darling. You have your role, and you’ll get to play. As long as the eyes shine bright.”

  You gasp in horror, your beautiful eyes round. “This is insane! Stop this right now!” Right when he thinks you’ve learned your place you retreat back into that attitude of yours. He takes a deep breath. “Enough! Just do your job.”

   The elder looks at you. Chrollo hates it. He cannot stand the compassion, the care, you have for this nobody. Why are your pretty eyes looking at this worm like that? He’s doing this for you. Getting the eyes for you to see and for the city to benefit from. Digging for the Dark Sonata for you to hear safely.

  The elder is about to speak when Chrollo interrupts. “Uvo.”

 Suddenly, Uvogin strikes one of the Kurta’s legs and reveals a woman’s red eyes from across them. She doesn’t hesitate to go to the fallen woman who cries for her missing legs. Right then, Uvogin gouges the Scarlet Eyes out. Number eight uses his nen to preserve them and places them in a jar. With a flick of his wrist, the rest of the members go on the attack. He turns his head slightly only to see you horrified and disgusted. You run to him, pulling on his arm, demanding him to stop this. Him, the Head, your boss, your lover. 

He jerks his arm out of your pleading hold. “Do as you are told.” 

  “You-thi-this is wrong! They haven’t done anything to us!” You see Machi begin to use her nen. “No!” You call out to her. You tug on him again and again. “Tell them to stop! This is evil, disgusting!”

  Irritation continues to grow heavier by the second.

  “Go and do your fucking job.” He points to a small group that is being guarded by two scared adults. The few children behind them don’t go unnoticed. “Don’t be this way, Chrollie. You're my friend. You can’t be this way.”

Friend.  Friend? After everything he’s done for you. Provided, protected, cared, loved? You let him make love to you and fuck your brains out when needed. You had him lavish you with everything you wished for. Reading to you in the dead of night when you couldn’t sleep. You let him vent with his head on your lap and listen to his ideas, just like he listens to yours. 

He gave himself to you. And he’s your friend? After the sin he committed and can’t forgive himself for, and done it for you?

  Darkness clouds his mind. He pushes you off of him. You land harshly on the dirt ground. He points to the exit of their little village. “Go and catch stragglers. Miss one, and you won’t get a head start.”

  You gasp and run. He remembers being this angry only twice. When you wanted to leave, and when Sarasa died. The only bright thing of that day was that number eight died and Chrollo let it happen. He couldn’t do it himself since the rule he placed for you. Members are not allowed to fight each other.

 The Phantom Troupe watched as number eight begged for help from a Kurta warrior, knowing better than to help him. 

  He admits that he began to get callous. Numb to the pain and had lessened his caring hold of you. He pinned a lot of responsibility on you now. Everyone was surprised at this new behavior. You took it in stride, though. Even as the two of you withdrew from each other, he wouldn’t let you get far. Him doing this was to discipline you. To let you have a taste of what he does for you. For you to once again trust him like you are supposed to. 

   Not long after, the two of you came across Silva Zoldyck. He knew you weren’t equipped to handle someone of this caliber, but he pushed anyway. He thought you trusted him enough to rely on him, to let him be the offense and you the defense. Then, the unthinkable happened. Stupidly, you ran right to Silva and attacked. 

  Chrollo held your dying form in his arms. He cried apologies and prayed every prayer in the good book. Nothing was working. He expected something to snap or crush. He has read that his heart should break and it to be literally felt. He expected a part of him to go with you. Instead, he started to feel whole. And he hates it. He feels the true burden of himself, something he assumes he split with you. There is no heated desire for vengeance or even death. 

  He feels…lost. There is no plan or even an identity, he thinks. Did it die with you? Did the compass of himself leave with you? The name you gave him, did you take it with you. That’s fine with him. His name is yours; he is yours. 

 He kisses you with tears streaming down his face, some landing on his lips and blending with yours. 

I love you, I love you. It was real, my love. No book in the world could ever describe it. Is this what it’s like for a soul to leave a body? To be a hollow shell for anything to fill in it, even the darkest of monsters. Or could this be what I was the whole time? 

Who gives a damn about the monsters even if they share his face? None of that matters now that you’re gone…you’re gone. You died. 

He squeezes you tighter, closer to him. He buries his face in the crook of your neck while your chest is pressed against his. If he was insane, he'd swear he could still feel your heartbeat. 

The members rushed to him and were shocked at your departure. He thought he’d hear their cheers or see smiles. Never would he have thought they would actually be saddened to a degree. Some more so than others. 

  Like a strike of lightning, a giant bright light brings its force. It’s a smaller version of what took you, he sees. It comes down and in a moment of reflex, Franklin yanks him away from your body. There is a rumble underneath their feet. Dust flies up and around the strike that makes a perfect, deep circle. It was aimed directly at the Troupe. Chrollo had looked at it and your body was gone. 

 He couldn’t even bury you. 

It was this event that completely changed Chrollo. Rather than the group staying together, they go their separate ways until he calls them, disappearing completely. Little do they know, he would frequent the places you loved most. That cottage that you and Chrollo would spend calm days, the meadow, Meteor City's library, and the church that the both of you grew up in. They are sacred places that he isn’t worthy of going to. They are practically holy, a place to cleanse a sinner such as himself.

--------

PRESENT

Here you are, sleeping like you didn’t run away from him. Your toes twitch and curl. You stretch your legs and yawn, slowly blinking awake. Chrollo sat in front of you, studying intently. After your betrayal, he’ll never admit to how you look like a cute cat. No, that’d only lead you to believe that you have a hold on him. And that, you will never have again. 

  The more he studies your face, the more he tries not to laugh at the situation. The whole thing is absurd. To think, he only discovered that you were alive is because of that Zoldyck kid. The little menace was teasing them about letting a spider slip. No one could figure out what he meant until Chrollo was abducted. He didn't have a plan and didn't inform the rest of them why they were rampaging that quaint village. He was just focused on the truth and the possibility of your existence. 

   Your eyes flutter open and focus on him. “C-Chrollo?”

It only takes a few seconds for you to understand the situation. His intentions, beliefs, and your place. You were right before. Number four is taken. As well as eight. Now, the other numbers of the members lost are filled as well. Have you figured out that there is no room for you? That this cushy bed is temporary?

  Do you remember the hours before you fainted? He does. That and all of the memories he has of you. 

  You take a few deep breaths. “What’s going to happen to me?” He stands and looks down at you. Your eyes remain on the ground. He hates that. Worst of all, he hates that

------

THEN

   He walks in the church with another basket of flowers. He hears Father Rizole talk to a nun around the corner. Before he can even make out what they’re saying, he sees a little girl stand next to the priest. Fists balled, eyes red, and surprisingly, in decent clothes. You can’t be from here. Not when you have name brand shoes that fit perfectly, and a hair that looks properly taken care of. Plus, you have a healthy structure. 

  With you in front of the window, the sun shines behind you, creating a halo. He can’t help but stare. Is this how the outside looks? Like angels? You have to be a little younger than him. But is it possible that someone young can be a wrathful angel? There’s no way you’re not one. Not with how fires burn in your eyes and the glow of your skin looking heavenly.

  Unable to stop, Chrollo walks towards you with sweaty palms. His basket suddenly feels heavier the closer he gets. He gulps as he stands right in front of you. Your eyes remain low, like you don’t even register him. 

  “My name is Chrollo. What’s yours?” His voice is shaky. You don’t answer much to his dislike. Father Rizole speaks. “This is (Y/n) (L/n), a new resident. (Y/n) has only been here for a few days. I haven’t gotten around to giving a tour. Actually, Chrollo, will you watch (Y/n) for a moment? Maybe look around the church.” 

  Chrollo’s eyes light up at the proposition even though he wonders if the priest is lying about something. “I’d love to! Leave it to me!” Father Rizole presses his hand on your upper back and gives you a slight push to Chrollo. “Here, look around. Meet some friends. You know what? I bet you can use a snack. How about that?”

  “I’ll take (Y/n) to the kitchen!” He’s excited. Not only can he hang out with you but you can share a snack. “Sarasa made some cookies with Sister Mary. Find her and have fun!”

  Father Rizole asks to speak to the nun in private. She hurries away with one last slightly scared look at you. They leave you to Chrollo’s charge. “We’re going to have a lot of fun, okay? I’ll show you everything.” He tries to grab your hand but you yank it away. He doesn’t like that at all. His eye twitches a little. Especially since you still won’t look at him. 

  The two of you still haven’t found Sarasa with the cookies. Truly, Chrollo is starting to feel a little embarrassed. Here he is saying you can have cookies and he can’t provide them. “H-hey, I’ll show you one of my favorite spots. It’s safe so don’t worry.”

  He guides you to a meadow of the same wild flowers he carries in his basket. Your eyes are still to the ground, not taking in its beauty. He’s twitching again. 

  “Why won’t you look? Can you not see?” His voice raises when he doesn’t mean too. Before he can say anything else, you plop to the ground. He gasps and tends to you. “Are you okay?” 

  There’s a heaviness in the pit of his stomach and a fear of you being hurt. “I-I’ll get a grown up!” 

You sniffle. He waits to see what you’ll do next. Again, you sniffle and start to shake. “Y-you’re crying…are you okay?”

“I’m not crying! I don’t cry!” You yell as you shed tears. You finally look at him. “I don’t cry. I don’t care! I’m not…not…” You struggle to speak. Your eyes widen in surprise when you touch your face.  You throw yourself on Chrollo, with your head on his chest. He instinctively wraps his arms around you as you wail. “I-I don’t know!” 

You struggle with articulating your feelings, opting to scream, cry, and smack his chest instead. He knows you aren’t meaning to hurt him which is why they don’t. 

  He pets your hair that is decorated with barrettes. You smell and feel nice. “It’ll be okay. I’ll protect you. We’ll have lots of fun too.” He pats your back. After a bit, you calm down and are back to sniffling and heavy breaths. He takes some flowers and puts them in the hair between the barrettes. 

“Am I pretty?” You touch the flowers in your hair gently. The look on your face is so innocent and vulnerable. He wants to cradle and protect it forever. He gives you a warm smile and with pure honesty, he confesses, “The mostest. Nothing compares.”

  Sarasa appears with a plate of cookies. “Father Rizole said you were looking for me?” 

-----

   PRESENT

“Get that fake look off your face.” He cuts through with a tongue as sharp as a knife. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Reluctantly, you do. “Do you understand your place?”

  You close your eyes for a second. “Not in the Spider. It’s filled.” He hums in affirmation. “So, where do you go?”

“The grave?” You sound too hopeful for his liking. He gets up from the chair and grabs your face. His eye twitches slightly, a dead giveaway of his anger. “That’s too sweet, isn’t it? Too poetic.” 

  “Chrollo, please let me go. It’s time, Chrollo.” He is a master at masking his emotions. Someone who had lost himself enough to fit any puzzle piece needed for a mission. For Neon, he just needed a mask that barely required effort. It was a person who he created for someone as naive as Neon. Over time, he has been able to handle so many personalities. He’s trained to keep emotions inside. Ha, leave it to you to rip that away.

   He starts to shake in anger at the audacity of not only you and your question, but his reaction. His heart had hurt at the thought of you leaving again. Images of the day he lost you do nothing but run wild. The day he met you to the last, to the present, all rush before him. 

   When your body disappeared, he thought of where he’d put your memory. It didn’t take long to think of the meadow. Where he put flowers in your hair, calmed you down, the place where you first hugged him and cried into his chest and was unable to fully articulate your emotions about your asshole parent. He went to the meadow and created a small shrine in your honor, right where you first hugged him. 

  It was the right thing to do. The perfect place, one that no one has visited in a while. He regretted that immensely. 

   He lets your face go. With a low voice he declared, “Darling, you will never leave me again.” 

  You begin to sink at his words, fists balling against the bare mattress. 

-------

THEN

“Chrollo, I have to go sometime.” He doesn’t like this. Lately, you’ve grown into that phase of wanting to explore. Talking of how life is outside, away from the city. You remember some of it and long for its familiarity. Years ago, Chrollo had been fascinated by it. It was one of the reasons he was so drawn to you. 

  “Not alone.” He says with finality. His words cause you to glare at him. “You don’t tell me what to do. I’ll go as I please. I’m practically an adult!”

  You're fourteen, the same age he was when he created the Spider. He clenches his fist. “You’re fourteen! That’s a child.”

“Oh, look at you! You murdered countless people since you were eleven and created your little clique when you were fourteen. All I want is to go home!” 

  He slams his fist down on the table. Clearly, you force yourself not to jump. “That’s different! And this is your home!” 

He can tell you didn’t like that one bit. You point around the area. “I am not from this God forsaken place. This is not my home or my people.” 

  “This is your home. You are staying!” He shouts. He’s never raised his voice at you before.  Your eyes widen for a split second then fill with determination. 

  “No, I’m not. You can’t tell me what to do. You're making it seem like a bad thing. Whi le I just want to go home, you and your posse run havoc and ruin everything! What’s so wrong with me going home?”

  The Phantom Troupe is his sensitive spot, and you know it. Yet you deliberately push it every single time just to hurt him. Chrollo is weak for you, he admits it and everyone knows it. Despite his love, there is an anger that brews inside him wanting to lash out. Degrading the spider is not allowed, you leaving is definitely off the table. Finally, he lets a tiny bit of that venom out for you to feel.

He leans in close to you, not breaking eye contact. 

“Do you expect them to just open their arms to you? That doesn’t happen! You’ll die out there. And you think you’re ready for them, ha! You look for validation and throw a tantrum when it’s not given. How far do you think that will get you, huh? No one will care.”

He’s breathing heavy, panicking at the image of your back turned, leaving the city limits. He sees you live a life of poverty again or worse, a life without him. Marrying someone, having children, a cat and dog, and living in a house. He doesn’t see himself in these scenarios. It’s driving him mad with rage. 

Look at him. Look at him! Stop looking down!

 Your body starts to shake. Your head hasn’t lifted to face him since he spoke. When it does, he immediately regrets his wish. 

  Filled with hurt, you strike back. “At least I know what things are without having to read about it! Experience them without stalking people! I know who I am and don’t depend on a book to find the answer,” You rub your eyes. “But I have a name! I’m not staying here and wasting it anymore.” 

  You run away from Chrollo who stands stiff. He didn’t mean to make you cry. He was just mad that you thought of leaving. Your words hurt a lot, but nothing compared to the knowledge that he made you cry. 

   Much to his dismay, you don’t talk to him. In fact, you avoid him all together. 

At least that thought of you leaving left your mind. 

Over the course of a few years, you avoided him and didn’t talk to him. He had to watch you from the sidelines, growing and learning. He wanted to help you read and do math. Proving him wrong every time you did it. Chrollo, thankfully, got a nen ability that allowed him to be invisible. He’d watch you closely, seeing how much you followed Father Rizole and his studies. 

  You even took up various weaponry since you still had pent up aggression. Father Rizole was hesitant at first lest you aim at someone who annoyed you. Chrollo supported your hobby wholly. He went directly to Father Rizole and encouraged the priest to allow it. Chrollo even provided the equipment, unbeknownst to you.

  The old priest wondered how he knew but Chrollo managed to convince him that he had heard through the grapevine and that people marveled at your talent. Upon hearing this, the caring priest caved. Despite everything, the children of Meteor city were like his own, including the Troupe and you. 

  After your training and studies, you go to your room and throw yourself on the bed. Chrollo managed to sneak in just in time. Suddenly, the most shocking thing happened. 

  You’re touching yourself. Your hands slip under your shirt. He sees your hands move and massage your chest. By the expression on your face, something soft and curious, you’re beginning to like it. Who did this to you? A rageful red is all he can see now. 

Right before you can explore further, you gasp at the knock at the door. 

The same day, he heads to the books, trying to calm himself down. Remaining on the sidelines and respecting your space was not the right move. Or perhaps it was, and he just let it go on for too long. Not when someone is latching on to you, making you feel things you shouldn't. As angry as that thought makes him, he couldn't just go up and demand for you to return to him. So, he figured it was best to look in a book for some kind of answer. 

The book had an excellent plot with a sweet side of romance. He studies it closely. He’s seen it in movies and plays, but books just explain it better. None of the characters share similarities with you. He can become and act like any of these people. You, however, are an immovable force of nature. They do not compare to you. 

  Book after book after book, shows nothing that you’d accept. What’s he going to do? After looking at the sky, Chrollo remembers what you had said.

“At least I know what things are without having to read about it! Experience them without stalking people! I know who I am and don’t depend on a book to find the answer,”

That’s right. He can’t go to a book for this. Getting you can’t be written unless in the stars. However, he’s experienced this before. Knowing who you are and what love is.  He perks his head up. The meadow. How he put flowers in your hair after comforting you. He closes whatever book that was and puts it with the twenty others he was reading to study.

  He asks Father Rizole your whereabouts. “Last I know, she was talking to Ray.” 

  Is that the one who made you desperate? On your bed, touching places you wished were caressed by someone else? Schooled in controlling his expressions, Father Rizole doesn’t know any different. Chrollo excuses himself and gives a lame excuse of why he asked. 

 Once he leaves, he sets out to find Ray. From what he remembers, Ray was an average looking boy who, in Chrollo’s opinion, was annoying. He chewed and slurped too loud, his laugh was obnoxious and for some reason, felt the need to always be right even when wrong. Chrollo distinctly remembers how Ray talked to you when you were younger. He was always flirtatious and tried to get close to you. So, in a dubbing performance when Chrollo played a villain, he looked directly at Ray through it all. Apparently, Chrollo was terrifying at that moment.

   By luck, he spots Ray blushing. The boy doesn’t notice the predator yet. The one who's eying every move Ray makes, waiting to strike.

“Chrollo? Is that you?”

He smiles and walks towards Ray, whose eyes are big. The Troupe has a reputation that has reached many ears. No doubt that is the reason for Ray’s nervous behavior. 

  “How have you been?” The boy nervously laughs. “Uh, good. Y-you? Y’know, besides the killing and stuff.” 

  “I’ve been fine. Actually, I need your help.” 

Ray squeaks and backs away. “No, Ray. Not like that. It’s for more personal matters. Man to man.”

   He visibly starts to relax around Chrollo the more the latter talks. “So, do you think white flowers will do?”

  “Hm, I like red better.” Chrollo nods his head, taking in this information. “And your beloved?”

“I-I, uh, don’t know what you’re talking about.” Ray’s cheeks are red. Chrollo chuckles, “Come on, I’ve heard some things. Tell me about it. It’ll make me feel more comfortable making my move.”

  “Oh, well, I haven’t asked (Y/n) out yet.” Chrollo pats Ray on the back a little too harshly. “Why don’t you? I mean, she’s here, right?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t know…”

“Go for it. You helped me a lot.” 

“Alright, I will! If she says yes…where would I even take her? It’s not like Meteor City has a lot to offer.” Chrollo has his arm around Ray’s shoulders. 

“Where else? There’s a meadow not too far from here. There are lots of flowers there. Just tell her you’ll meet her there. She’ll love it.”

  “Thanks, Chrollo!” He practically skips away, heading to you. 

“Tell me how it goes!” Chrollo calls out and gives him a thumbs up. Now, all he has to do is wait. Chrollo leans against the wall with his arms crossed. No one is around in the halls. He cracks his neck and sighs, taking in the few rays of the sun that peek through the windows. Ray soon runs back to him with a wide smile on his face. 

  “She said yes! She’ll be there this afternoon. I couldn’t have done it without you, Chrollo.” 

  “No, no. You did this yourself. Just needed a little push. Hey, do you know where the meadow is exactly?”

  “Um, it’s-”

“Towards the forest. Just go west, a few feet in. It’ll be paradise.” 

This scene feels so familiar. 

Chrollo sits in the meadow, taking in the scent of the wildflowers. He hears footsteps and already knows who it is. He calms his heartbeat and looks to the source of the noise.  You say nothing. Even though it eats at him, he takes you acknowledging his existence as a win. 

Play it cool, play it cool. 

   “Hi, (Y/n).” His voice gives a slight crack. Dear God, he must sound lame.

   “Hello, Lucilfer.” Your voice is as sweet as honey though your tone is slightly bitter. Your use of his last name stings a little but is softened when he remembers that you’re the one who gave him that name years ago.

“How have you been?” His legs lay long and unbothered, and he rests on his hands. He hopes he looks calm, maybe even suave. He’s matured in these few years despite his voice cracking a few seconds ago. 

“You can’t be here. I have a date.” You continue to stare down at him with indifference. 

“A date? With whom?” Your face remains the same. “With Ray. Leave.” Chrollo in the nick of time, stops his facade of nonchalance from cracking. “Well, if that’s the case, I’ll leave.”

  Your eyebrows raise at his willingness.

The moon has come out and the sun is gone. There are no stars above, just clouds. Lightning bugs float around to make up for those lost twinkles in the sky. Chrollo then makes his move. “How’d it go?”

“Shut up, Lucilfer.” 

“Damn…that badly? What happened? Did he do something?” Chrollo’s voice raises in concern despite the fact he knew good and damn well nothing happened. 

  You mumble something incoherent. “What?” Chrollo walks a little closer. When you fall to your knees, he’s next to you in an instant. “No! What’s wro-”

“He didn’t show up!” You yell with tears running down your face, illuminated by the moonlight. “So, there! Laugh it up! You were right.”

  Chrollo’s is now confused and worried. He doesn’t like you crying. He hates to see you sad. 

“You said no one would care and you were right. So, laugh! I know you want to!” He’s genuinely taken back. He didn’t remember saying that at all. His shoulders drop. So, this is what’s wrong...

  “I care about you. I want you. He might not see you, but I do. Do you understand? I want you.” Your lip wobbles just before you throw yourself on him, cuddling to his chest, just like the first time. This time, he feels more capable. 

   He lets you cry it out. He decides to apologize. “I’m sorry for saying that. I’m just a big dummy.”

You cry for several minutes. Finally, you settle for sniffles. “Here, these will make you happy.”  Chrollo puts wildflowers in your hair. He doesn’t go near the red ones. 

  You gently touch them, tears drying on your face. “Does it look good?”

“Gorgeous.”  You’re not leaving him again. 

----

  PRESENT

Much to your reluctance, he drags you out of the room. Your bare feet skid along the wooden floor, trying to resist his pull. This only makes him tug harder. You wince and lessen your fight.  

  Chrollo sees you look around, taking it all in. He has a more modern taste that is complete with an extensive library. You were always one to throw in some kind of weird decoration for it to not look so ‘bland’. That’s what you wanted. He preferred to have simplicity and elegance. 

 You say nothing as he continues to lead you out of a bedroom and land in the foyer. “Where are we going?” 

   “Down memory lane.” He opens a green portal from his book. It rotates like a flipping coin.

  “Do you remember this?” He’s holding your hand, guiding you through the carnival. It looks the same as it did last time. Even the night sky looks similar. The stars still shine and twinkle as they did before. The cotton candy vendor is different, but it’s made the same way. The elephant ears are still bigger than a human’s head. Laughing families are still joyous and oblivious to the monster with a book.

 “What about this?” He brings you to that damn roller coaster. He notices how your legs rub together ever so slightly. You probably don't even realize that you did it. “I’ve seen better.” 

  He clutches your hand tighter. “How about here? Have you seen better?” He guides you into the house of mirrors. The place where you lost your virginity. The blue striped building still looks the same and is still barely used. Back then, he made sure to make the experience special for you even if it happened in the heat of the moment. Not just because of the pact that was cemented, but because it was you. 

His tone is bitter after the memory of your legs wrapped around him and the understanding he had. At the time, he could feel the promise of him being your only. Until he found out that you gave yourself to another. Like it all meant nothing. As if you giving him a name meant nothing. As if he meant nothing. 

You gave him his last name. Before that, he didn’t have one. Here you came into his bleak life and lightened it up with an identity. A compass on the open ocean and a light in the darkest of tunnels. Apparently to you none of it matters.

  Chrollo wears a smile. “I haven’t been here in years. You?” 

“I haven’t either, Lucilfer.” Although you named him, it stung that you don’t address him properly. A nickname he never wanted to stop hearing. 

   “You sure? You didn’t fuck anyone else in here?” You gasp a little. “No. Even if I did, it’s none of your business.”

  He clutches your hand tighter. “Let us reminisce then, dearest.” 

  The two of you waltz in the house of mirrors. The glass is confusing, and the lighting gives an eerie feel. It’s brighter than last time. “What’re we doing in here anyway?”

  “Showing you what you left. Do you remember the fun we had over the years? The passion?”

“I remem-” You stop talking when you hear rattling. “Keep your voice down, someone else is here.” You warn.

  “Are you scared, my darling?” He notices that you hold his hand closer to you. “No! I can take care of myself just fine. I’m embarrassed. Here you are talking about old shit and someone can hear!”

  “Old shit…” He whispers. You nod. Suddenly, the noise gets closer until you see a familiar blond head. “Kurapika!” 

  Your eyes light up when you see him, the red eyed killer. His eyes are the purest form of the color. Filled with rage and wrath in them, they glow. Before you can even take a step forward, Kurapika launches his attack. Brutal chains race towards you with the intent to kill and scare. You don’t even realize it, Chrollo notes. 

  “(Y/n)!” He grabs you one handedly to dodge it. You are in his right arm, shocked and heartbroken. “Pika…”

   The boy you took care of shouts obscene things at you. Chrollo growls and puts you behind him protectively. “(Y/n), run away!”

  “No! Are you joking? I’m not leaving.” You shout back. Kurapika runs towards you, ready to attack again. “Kurapika, kid, please just list-”

  Chrollo once again picks you up and takes you out of the house. The beach is calm and void of people. He puts you down far enough to where he thinks you’ll be safe. “Stay here!”

  “Chrollo, please, don’t kill him!” You sit on the cool sand illuminated by the moonlight. You grab his hand and plead. 

  “After this? After Paku and Uvo?” You nod. “Please, that…that’s my boy.” Your body is shaking not from fear, but from disorientation as the killer runs out of the building and spots you. Your lip wobbles and Chrollo leans down and touches your cheek. 

 “I’ll try to avoid it. But love, if it can’t be helped, please forgive me.”

   A tear slides down your cheek. He wipes it away and faces the furious Kurapika who has yet to address you with manners. That alone is reason enough for death. Chrollo opens his book, pretending not to notice your flinch. He flips through the pages, dodging every chain the boy sends. 

   It’s a fight that rivals the Zoldyck’s. The one where he thought of you when Silva launched his nen ability directly at him and Silva’s father, Zeno. Chrollo at the time had wondered what you were thinking when it happened to you. How funny is it that you were alive and well the whole time?

  None of the boy’s chains touch him. He gets closer and closer to the blond. Every kick and twist the boy sends is futile. Chrollo has years of experience on him. 

  Sand lifts up from one of the kid’s kicks. The sand blocks the view momentarily then shows the boy on the ground once it settles. Chrollo’s book flips the page when the scarlet eyes try to raise up again. 

  “Chrollo, no!” You scream. The fight was happening so fast, and you were so confused that you didn’t act or even process it. You run towards them to separate it. “Please, please, he’s just a kid! He’s mad and scared-”

  You finally realize why the boy is on the ground. There is a big gash on his side. A wound so deep that allows blood to soak the earth. “N-no…” 

  You try to touch him but you’re panicking. Chrollo can see your eyes widen and your pupils dilate. Never has he seen you so scared, delirious even. It breaks his heart. 

   “Love, breathe, breathe.” He calmly encourages. You take little breaths. “W-why? How could you?”

“I’ll fix it. Tell me how. I need to know.”

“I can do it!” You try to push his hand away. He sighs and shakes his head no. “You can’t stop shaking. Please, let me help you.”

  You explain it the best you can. Chrollo watches as you stutter and stumble over your words. It isn’t much but it’ll do. “I don’t understand fully. Show me!”

 "Stop fucki-stop screaming!" Your eyes flick over the boy's body repeatedly. Chrollo can see it in your eyes that you are drifting as you make eye contact with the boy's scarlet eyes.

Chrollo's eye twitches. "(Y/n)!" 

  There’s an urgency in his voice once the blond kid’s breathing becomes ragged. "I’m a-an exorcist not a healer. Oh God, what if I can’t-” 

“Try your best, my love.” He kisses the side of your head and rubs your back. Your eyes are still fearful and shocked despite his efforts. Finally, your hand is out, and you whisper words that only the chanter and nen itself can understand. A symbol displays itself on the ground, surrounding the bloody young man on the ground. 

Then it immediately stops. All of it does. Not only does your technique leave you, but the image of the teen disappears. There is no blood, no death before you. Only Chrollo Lucilfer and a guy with an undercut. 

  “Kurapika? Kurapika!” You search the sand in the spot he was laying on. You mutter his name repeatedly. You look up and study the guy before you.

  He can see you recognize him: Milluka Zoldyck. With a handy ability to give illusions. It’s an odd choice for a Zoldyck, especially one that never leaves the house. The young man laughs at you and your devastation. There's a flame in Chrollo's chest that is too familiar as he watches you be laughed at. 

   “Thank you for your service.” Chrollo says. Milluka doesn't have time to respond when a gun conjures in Chrollo’s hand. He fires without hesitancy or remorse. The guy falls down with a look of betrayal. Although Milluka had a handy technique, he wasn't worth anything. 

   Chrollo turns around to look at you. To his surprise, you are on your back with your arm over your eyes, weeping. You were so caught up in the scarlet eye boy that you didn’t notice anything off. You couldn’t even control yourself from meeting his conditions. Him questioning it and your answer, then having to witness your nen ability. That went according to plan, but the kicker is that you touched his book on accident. You were so distressed that you didn't realize your hand landed directly on it when you went to the boy's side. 

  Distracted and careless is what you are. He taught you better than that. “(Y/n), get up.” His voice is colder now, more commanding than it had been seconds ago. 

You don’t get up or even look at him. Your arm is still over your eyes, only letting tears flow. “Let me go.”

  He grabs the sides of your face, pulling you up. “I did what I had to do. The house of mirrors was just to remind you.”

   “Of what?” You whisper. He can see the despair in your eyes. 

   “Of us. Of the lengths I will go for it. Your nen means nothing to me. That boy is nothing. You my love, my dear,” 

  He places a kiss with each word. “My heart,”

“My compass,” He presses his forehead to yours, his hands still holding on. “My very soul. You are everything to me and I will not lose you again.”

 You sob. “You’re insane…where’s the boy I once knew? How did you end up this way?” You try to separate yourself from him. His hands shake your head a little.

 With a hiss, Chrollo clears, “I was always this way.”   

[pinkydevil16]

Aemond Targaryen x reader: part 3 

Part 1 Part 2 Rhaenyra stood across from Alicent, her father laid in his bed barely able to speak as he whispered to the maester his wants and needs. 

"The King has a final request from both of you, he wishes for Aemond and Y/n to wed before the end of tomorrow. To finally bring your two great houses together in unity as is his dying wish." Alicent could feel her eye twitch as the maester spoke, the only child she loved, the only one who understood her and loved her truly was to be married to the same bastard who took his eye. 

"Of course, we shall have all the preparations made. Thank you father." Rhaenyra spoke, smiling at her father before turning and leaving, her smile dropping as the doors closed behind her and a deep sigh exited her body. 

"If you think i am going to happily marry that low life piece of scum then you might as well feed me to my own dragon!" Y/n shouted as she threw her knife into the wall, letting out a frustrated scream as her Mother sat calmly on the bed, hands crossed in front of her pregnant stomach.

"This is your grandfather's dying wish, to unite our families and secure our positions on the throne. You must be smart and courageous, you are my daughter, a dragon." Y/n looked at her mother, wanting to be disgusted by her words and to continue her outrage but she knew as a woman her position without marriage would never be secure. 

"I am a woman, a woman in a world of men who only see us as breeders for their children and a way to carry on their legacy, and now i am to forfeit the one thing i hold my own? I am to give up my dignity, my pride and potentially my life for him!" Rhaenyra stood, walking to her daughter as she took her hand calmly, using her other to smooth her daughters hair and pull her into her chest as she spoke.

"You must do what is best for the realm, this is the burden we bare as Queens and Princesses. I fear the King does not have much time and i do not trust Alicent or her father, you will unite our families and bring some peace to my mind." Y/n wrapped her arms around her mother, Rhaenyra's hands rubbing soothing circles on her back before Y/n pulled back from the embrace.

"I shall do this, not for the realm, not for the King. But for you, because you have asked me, because you are to be my Queen." Rhaenyra smiled placing a kiss on her daughters forehead before tucking her head back into her, the smile dropping as she held her daughter, aware that she was handing her to the Greens in a time of great desperation. 

Aemond let out a half laugh as he took a sip of his wine, his brother already half drunk as their mother explained the engagement, her words harsh and unloving as she ranted of her child being wed to Rhaenyra's bastard. 

"It is alright Mother, i shall do my duty." Alicent barely listened as she continued her tiraid against Rhaenyra, her hands flying in the air as Aemond hummed in satisfaction, although the news had angered him deeply something inside him knew this would be a good thing. A play thing, a wife from the other side, he would be able to torture her for eternity. Aegon downed his drink before standing, almost falling if not for the chair behind him, staggering to his brother and clapping his hand on his shoulder with a laugh.

"Well atleast you'll finally wet your cock brother, breed the bitch for all she's worth and she might die in child birth like your dragon's last rider." Aemond hummed, hiding his annoyance from his brother as he stumbled from the room, Alicent waiting a moment before dropping into the chair next to Aemond and taking his hand.

"You must be smart my dear child, they seek to be rid of us, a challenge to Rhaenyra's throne and now you are to marry one of her bastards. You must be sure to consummate the marriage and legitimise it under the eyes of the faith. Then we shall have heirs from both sides and take one of Rhaenyra's from her." Aemond leaned forward taking his mothers hand, her eyes filled with unshed tears as he nodded at her, trying to comfort his mother.

"I shall do what is necessary and we will bring the blacks to their knees, we will have our revenge for what they took from us." Alicent nodded, taking his hand and placing it against her cheek as she tried not to cry. 

Y/n stood on a small stand, her white dress covering her body as she stared at the mirror, handmaidens flocked around her.

"You look beautiful Princess." Y/n hummed looking at herself in the mirror, hands smoothing down her dress before pricking herself on a pin, her handmaid gasping as Y/n stared at the blood pooling on her fingertip.

"Princess you must be careful, let me clean it." Y/n shook her head, sucking the blood off her finger before stepping down from the stand, shooing away the flock of women around her.

"Leave." The women all nodded, exiting quickly leaving Y/n on her own as she stripped from the dress and stood in front of the mirror in her slip dress. Staring at herself as she analysed her own body, the scars from fighting with her brothers or falling from her dragon when she learnt to ride. Her skin looked more dull than normal although she'd been bathed in honey milk and enough oils to preserve her in, sneering at herself she turned from the mirror. She despised that Aemond would see her in such a way, in such a vulnerable state whilst for a man it was a natural state, one she was sure he would be far more comfortable in. She was not self conscious nor did she find flaws in herself the same way many others did, she was a princess and had many suitors make comments which teetered on the edge of inappropriate, it made her skin crawl but she was confident in her skin. She would be confident with Aemond, she would not show him any sign of discomfort or he would revel in it, she would never give him the satisfaction of seeing her squirm let alone for him. Standing over the dress she looked at the intricate design, a few hours and it would be finished, and she would walk towards Aemond, take him as her husband and be wed. Letting out a small shiver she moved to her table, pouring a glass of wine and sighing before downing the whole glass, wiping her mouth as some spilled from her lips. Placing down the glass she put both hands on the table, closed her eyes and tipped her head back with an inhale.

"Gods, you do wish to make life hard for those you make." Y/n opened her eyes and gave herself a small slap on the cheek before calling for her handmaid, the woman running in as she gave her some orders for the dress.

"Of course your highness, we shall return in a few hours with the finished dress." Y/n nodded as she pulled on her riding dress, pulling her hair from the collar before grabbing her gloves. 

"Do you not have something else to do than bother me in my last hours of freedom? Such as killing little children or harassing ?" Aemond let out a fake laugh at Y/n's words, standing across from Y/n as he exited the dragon pit, his own riding coat open as he held his hands behind his back.

"I cannot wait to crush your spirit once we are wed, you will be such a quiet and obedient wife once i teach you a lesson on being a lady." It was now Y/n's turn to let out a fake laugh as she took a step forward encouraging Aemond to do the same until they stood toe to toe.

"Perhaps if you were not such a disgusting ugly beast i would act more ladylike in your presence but a princess will never bow to a toad, not when she can step on him instead." Aemond could feel his eye twitch at her words, thinking of all the things he would do to her once his family took the crown and hers were dead.

"You should be careful with your tongue Princess, when we are wed i shall put it to better use." Y/n stared at him as he spoke, both knew it was supposed to be a threat of some kind, although neither was quite sure which kind. 

"Hmm." Y/n responded, side stepping him as she walked into the dragon pit, leaving Aemond to watch her leave. 

Jacaerys stared at his sister as she fiddled with her dress, a frown on his face as he looked at her.

"We could leave." Y/n rolled her eyes and moved to hold his hands, gripping them as she smiled at him.

"No we cannot, it is a royal decree and i am duty bound to do this. It is what our grandfather wants and whilst he is alive then his wants are law Jace." Jacaerys nodded as Y/n pulled away and steeled herself before walking towards the doors of her chambers.

"Go on." Jace gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving, giving her a moment to be alone before she was handed off to Aemond. 

"A marriage in the sept under the faith is no true Targaryen wedding." Y/n sneered as she stood across from Aemond, a smirk on his face as they both spoke their vows.

"It is the true way of the Kings and Queen of westeros." Y/n rolled her eyes at his statement.

"The true Kings and Queens as you say would have shunned you for how you think of your sister." Aemond waited a beat before grabbing her face with both hands, his grip harsh as he pulled her into a kiss, forcing her to stumble forward. His teeth pushing into her lip until she bled, making her grip his tunic as he pulled back, her blood on his bottom lip.

"There is your targaryen custom complete?" Y/n licked her lip, a scowl on her face as he let go of her face. 

"If you touch me like that again i shall run you through." Aemond went to snap back as the people cheered, happy to have the families reunited.

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