#(then it's not coming from my deep dark fears and can't come true. he's just being a dick.)

[mademoisellesarcasme]

okay so

I don't want to jinx this, but I do want to offer a little light to anyone else suffering from serious anxiety:

it never goes away but sometimes it can be so much easier to tell that stupid voice full of fear to fuck off and -- IT WILL FUCK OFF

it doesn't muscle in on your mental real estate forcing you to work through every possible solution to a hypothetical traumatising scenario

you can say "yeah, well, we can cross that bridge if we come to it (deeply unlikely), so go away" AND IT FADES INTO THE BACKGROUND LIKE THE SHITTY VIZIER IT IS

[obsessedwrhys]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ The Seven x Deadpool!Reader

t/w: loooots of dark humour/jokes, reader is insensitive and an asshole since they're also a supe working at vought, your powers are the exact same as Deadpool (even the skin condition), mention about killing, death, gore, r-pe, n@zis?!?!, alcohol, some intimacy (?). Also reader is gn!!

ᯓ★ here's a version with the boys <3

HOMELANDER

This man hates you so fking much

Has tried to kill you multiple times, he tried lasering you, tearing you in half and even throwing you into the sky but you just always manage to come back like the damn plague

Eventually he gives up trying to kill you and just had to deal with the fact you'll be kept alive... just temporarily though... he's still looking for ways to kill you

However, your powers gave you dozens of advantages when around Homelander.

He can be having a meeting about something serious and everyone would be listening to him due to their fear towards him, then there's you who'd be doing your own thing and just shout out unrelated things like "Donald Trump just blocked me on Twitter!! HAH!! SUCK IT CORNFLACKS!!"

Everyone turning to you with startled expressions while Homelander simply rolls his eyes before continuing his presentation.

You are a complete nightmare to the PR team, that's why for interviews or any events, you'll always be paired up with Homelander so he can keep you under control and stop you from saying weird shit that could ruin the company's image.

"So Deadpool, how does it feel being in the Seven working alongside Homelander? You've been working together for almost 3 years now" A reporter would ask as you two are surrounded by screaming fans.

"Like I'm in the twilight series, not because of the fantasy but because I'm still waiting for the part where he impregnates me—"

"O-kay! That's enough, just silly ol' Deadpool with those inside jokes"

"You can tell in this eyes that he wants to fuck me right now. HE'S GONNA FUCK ME!!" You shouted as you're being dragged away by him.

Obviously when you had found out about his relationship with Stormfront, especially her background, you had to say some shit about it. Not giving the slightest care about the fact he could be grieving over her death.

He'll be in his room standing in front of the window and you'd just storm in, being as loud as possible.

"I can't believe you dated a N@zi!! Is it because I'm Jewish?!" Which may or may not be true, nobody knows your origin.

He may hate your guts but if he ever needs someone to help him do some dirty work, you're the person for the job, you never ask why or how, which could be the only thing he likes about you.

"Y'know, maybe if you didn't have such a big mouth, you'd be tolerable"

"All the people I've slept with have said otherwise"

Compatibility? 50%

STARLIGHT

Before she joined the Seven, she had an image of what kind of person you were, she just didn't know it was this worse.

When you found out she used to work at this Sunday School Church, you just haaaaad to say something about it.

"So like, you say that prayer always works, but every night I pray for my hair to grow and it never does. Do you think God has me blocked? How do I get unblock?"

"Uh..."

You two surprisingly get along without one wanting to slice the other's throat, except sometimes the things you say can really piss her off. Which is why when the company assigned her a new costume, she was trying her hardest to avoid you, but you found out anyways.

"Holy shit Starlight! Nice costume, is this your Miley Cyrus breakthrough? Girl power!"

Insert her groaning out of annoyance.

Again, the second you discovered she was dating a guy behind the death of Translucent, you were heartbroken :(

"Of course this happens right when my therapist gives up on me!"

Despite your behaviour, you pitied her when it was revealed that she was taken advantage of by The Deep, so like any good friend, you took revenge by cooking his friend octopus and eating it happily in front of him.

"Revenge does taste sweet" You'd say happily while Starlight just watches by the side, both grateful and horrified at your actions.

In my opinion, you would definitely be the person she goes to once she starts working with the boys, you'll always be providing whatever information that happens in the company for her to use.

It helps her worry less about getting anyone killed 'cause you literally can't die.

Compatibility? 60%

QUEEN MAEVE

You're half the reason why she rethinks about her life choices when she wakes up in the morning

Not because you're a handful (which you are) but because you're always paired together on missions

"Deadpool! The hostages!"

"OKAY! God... you act just like my drunk uncle"

Which is a joke/nickname you like to address her by because of her alcoholism (yikes)

Whenever the company needs you for something, half of the time she's the one assigned to search for you.

There was this one time she caught you trying to have Anika track down Kanye West's location, nobody knows what shenanigans you were up to.

Another thing to mention was that you two were chosen by the company to sing a Christmas song for the year's Christmas ceremony.

Just imagine during the bridge of the song, she's singing normally while you're completely going off, your high note so high you were sure you had Mariah Carey a run for her money.

Even though she finds you a lot to deal with, you're actually her buddy to train with.

Since you're very skilled with Katanas, she likes to practice her swordsmanship with you.

You like to tease or make fun of her everytime she fails to strike you which is good motivation for her to get better. Maybe you guys bring out the best of each other?

Last thing I'd like to add is when she was found out by the public that she was a lesbian (She's bi but you get the running joke), you had gifted her a t-shirt that says, 'Biggest Dick in Town'

Compatibility? 80%

THE DEEP

Your human punching bag

If Vought was a high school instead of a company, you'd be the bully and he'd be the nerd getting stuffed inside the locker room.

For example, Homelander could be confronting Starlight about her relationship with Hughie and everyone would just start raising their voices til you come in yelling "SHUT UP!" to the Deep who had not said a single thing during the entire time.

Just imagine him staring at you like 😐

To be honest you also ate his friend octopus so you guys are actually never getting the chance to make up.

"Look dude, I don't appreciate your tone"

"I don't appreciate your haircut either but we can't all get what we want"

You may be a crazy person but you weren't going to be okay with the fact he violates every woman he sees, so not only did you cook the octopus but you also called in a male stripper disguised as a woman just for him to celebrate on his birthday.

Just imagine him all happy when you tell him the news and later that night he'll run inside your room, completely pissed off at your act after finding out but you just laughed and said.

"Happy April Fools 😚!"

"That's next month dipshit!"

Also, you never understood his weird fantasies. He has a thing for sea animals??You've caught him multiple times either flirting or getting off to one. It was concerning even for you.

"From how many animals you've fucked, you might just turn from the ocean's 'Seaman' to 'Semen'." You joked which he did not find funny.

Maybe you messing with him could just be your way of getting along with him since you're the same with everybody else, it's just he has more flaws to poke fun of and he's sensitive about them.

Compatibility? 5%

A-Train

He thinks you're fucked up in the head.

Half of the shit that comes out of your mouth just has him reacting like in the GIF

Buuuuuut you're the one he always brings to the club because you always know ways to give the party life.

You've somehow even got on the wall of fame, a lovely portrait of you with your hands making out a heart.

Also, you know about his business with Compound V waaaaay before anyone else did. He's still grateful you didn't tell anyone.

Just like everyone else, you also enjoy messing with him except he's fast and constantly avoiding you.

"Hey A-Train, how much do you wanna bet that I can die faster than you?"

"Dude... seriously?"

You guys rarely get sent on missions together because you're always slowing him down, not basing off the fact he's fast but because you get easily sidetracked with other things.

"Alright, we're here now, how much C4 do we use?"

"Fuck math! Let's use all of 'em!"

You ended up detonating all of the C4 on you before he could object the idea, he was able to run out in time, your action nearly getting him killed while you ended up dead.

But it's fine you'll just grow back.

You know that race he has against Shockwave? You'd be at the VIP section standing near where Homelander and Queen Maeve is, waving your huge banner that has a picture of A-Train's face and yours pasted over a figure carrying the other in bridal style.

Compatibility? 55%

TRANSLUCENT

He makes people paranoid but you make him disgusted.

There was this one time he was bored so he snuck in your room to see what you were doing.

At first he was confused why you had so many cute plushies but then the more he explored your room, he realised your room is basically every collector's dream.

You even had a huge teddy bear in the corner of your dressing room.

The reason why he doesn't like to spy on you is because the last time he did, he saw you putting your hand in the blender, then proceeding to put your private part into it.

Never again, he thought, never again.

He doesn't need to witness you carry out your intrusive thoughts.

Surprising enough, you're close with his son, I'd like to think that after his death, you practically became the kid's godparent. Though you can be sort of a bad influence, leading up to how he is in Gen V.

You always tell him you hate kids but he thinks otherwise.

After all, he can read people well.

You guys like to pull pranks on each other since you guys like competing on who's more sneaky

There was this one time, you woke up to find your suit gone so you ended up walking around the building, completely naked and unfazed by people's stares.

It was when you walked around the corner that you found your suit worn by someone else, turns out it was Translucent under it.

"Why is it so fucking tight dude? How do you stay in this shit all day?"

"You get used to it"

Compatibility? 85%

BLACK NOIR

Lovers.

He doesn't mind your attitude because he actually can't say anything about it.

No seriously... he can't talk.

But hey he's got a good shoulder to cry on.

"I just... hffgh... I can't believe my album didn't surpass lady gaga's... She doesn't even know how to use Katanas like I do!" You'd let out a loud sob while he just stares at you for a while before placing a hand on your shoulder, patting you gently.

You know the scene where he's playing the piano for one of the company's party? You'll be laying down on top of it and singing in your usual overdramatic high pitched voice.

He finds your humour amusing so he always does this little head tilt like in the GIF when you say some weird shit while waiting for his response.

Since both of you are the only members of the Seven that wears a full body suit, obviously you had to try on his but since it was impossible to achieve that, you just had the company make a copy for you.

He'll be walking down the hallway doing his normal routine until he notises another person in his suit, the moment you speak and he realises its just you is when he let's his guard down.

"I just got some transplants done to my ass, that's why I look different"

You both are never sent on missions together 'cause you guys don't work well, pretty much nobody works well with him since he's the silent type.

Example, you two were hiding behind some crates ready to jump on the bad guys who were snucking in illegal drugs. He gestured for you to wait as he went to check again, only to turn back to see you gone.

"Marry Christmas motherfuckers!"

He heard your voice shout and he found you standing on top of the stacked crates, machine gun in hand and began shooting aimlessly.

He didn't even do anything but just watch until you ran out of bullets. However, multiple survived and began shooting at you so you ended running towards where he's hiding at.

"Yankee yankee!" You yelped.

You know the video of the two girls taking off their wigs to reveal that they're bald and they start bonding over it? I'd like to imagine that's you and Black Noir with the skin condition under the suits.

One more scenario I wanna add, you guys could be having a meeting but since you were bored and you always hated meetings, you'd draw a big heart on a piece of paper and show it to Black Noir from across the table. Surprisingly he'd draw a heart back to you.

You were overjoyed so you began to draw you and him doing it, doggy style. He stares at your doodle for a while before choosing to just focus on the meeting instead.

Compatibility? 90%

(This took a while cause I was on vacation)

[ddejavvu]

eddie being the speaker for venom’s adoring rant he eventually goes on at the end of your date when you’re just slowly strolling through a park, taking the long way home just to draw the evening out (but also eddie filtering it because some of the points are VERY INAPPROPRIATE and so venom gets mad and eventually takes over even though you are in public)

This post is 18+, minors dni.

"You're very pretty," Eddie narrates the voice in his head, but he shakes his head and tries again, "Pret-ty. He says- He says it weird, like prit-ty."

"Pretty," You try, voice low and gruff in a poor attempt to match Venom's, "Like that?"

"Spot on," Eddie laughs, and you let your chest shake with giggles as you roam down the sidewalk, "And he says your dress makes him think of blood, which," Eddie grimaces, "I'm sure, in his mind, is a compliment."

"Hm," You hum, glancing down at the red fabric you're draped in, "Yeah, I'll choose to take that kindly."

"And he wants to- woah," Eddie's eyes go wide and his hand tightens around your own momentarily, "Uh, hold your hand."

"What?"

"He wants to hold your hand!" Eddie insists, "And- Jesus, Venom! And tuck you into bed."

"I said fuck!" A voice roars from deep inside of Eddie's chest, and before you know it black ooze is emerging from your boyfriend's skin. You panic, yanking Eddie-turned-Venom into an alleyway between two apartment buildings and praying that no one is watching you.

"I said I wanted to fuck you into the bed," Venom clarifies, towering over you in the dark alley. If you didn't know him, in any other scenario, you'd be fainting from fear. But the hulking alien doesn't bother you now, and you put a hand over his mouth full of sharp teeth to try and get him to quiet down.

"Okay," You soothe, trying to acknowledge him so that he doesn't feel so misinterpreted, "Okay Venom. That's very- uh, nice. But you can't be out right now, you know that. Please just go back inside Eddie?"

"He is lying, I cannot trust him!" Venom huffs, voice not quieted at all, merely muffled by your hand, "I did not say I wanted to hold your hand. I said I wanted you to fuck my tongue!"

"Charming," You spit, face flushed with fire matching the heat in your belly, "Really, Venom, I- I'd like to, but- but we're out now, and I need you to quiet down and go back inside."

"Eddie does not deserve to take you on dates like this. He does not tell you how good you look."

"Yes he does!" You insist, still clamping your hand desperately over Venom's mouth. It does nothing, but you can't stand the thought of letting go.

"He uses words like gorgeous and beautiful. They are true," Venom promises, "But he never says sexy or delicious. Those are true, too, and you should hear them."

"Thank you, Venom," You croon, moving your hands to his cheeks to tug them closer to your face. He accepts a kiss to the teeth, seeing as he hasn't bothered to give himself lips in this form, and it's a rather odd sensation on your own. But it quiets him down, and he's calm under your touch.

"I'm happy you think those things," You grin, and you can't deny that you're flattered, "But if you want to say those things, we have to wait until we're home. I promise, as soon as the door shuts behind us you can join Eddie and I, okay? He'll say beautiful, you can say..." You fumble for a term, inches away from Venom's face, and he offers a helpful hint.

"Hot stuff!" He roars, definitely loud enough to be heard from the street.

"Okay! Okay, hot stuff," You nod, peering horrified at the mouth of the alleyway to make sure no one is coming to investigate, "That's very nice Venom, I'd love to hear that later."

"I will go back inside now," Venom tells you, and your heart rate spikes when you hear rushed footsteps coming your way, "But I will see you later."

"Later, later!" You promise, and the symbiote can't seem to melt into Eddie fast enough. As soon as the face in front of you is tan instead of goopy, you surge for it, locking lips with Eddie in a gesture you hope looks passionate and not rushed.

The man doesn't know what you're doing, but he doesn't care. He lets you slam him against the wall behind him with a soft groan, and you shut your eyes just as the footsteps thud beside you.

"Oh-" A resident of the nearby apartments scoffs, "Gross. Get a fucking room or something, you'll get an infection out here. Perverts!"

You flip the man off for good measure, and wait until he's a safe distance away to part from Eddie. He looks dazed from the kiss, but as soon as he comes to, he's got a message from Venom.

"He wants to know if he can bite that guy's head off," Eddie drawls, and you sigh, typical.

"No," You scoff, grabbing Eddie's hand and leading him back out of the alleyway, "But we should get home, he's got lots to say to me."

"And do to you," Eddie's face scrunches as he listens to Venom's rambling, shaking his head slightly at a suggestion you don't hear, "I- I don't think that's possible, buddy."

[sainns]

PILLOW TALK.

𝓢.ㅤ calling jay after a nightmare.

PJSㅤ୨୧ ⠀ femreader⠀ . . .ㅤ fluff, hurt/comfort, i'll be honest jay is barely in this, established relationship, this is purely self indulgent, it's implied that reader gets nightmares pretty chronically, semi-proofread ㅤ1255 words

you wake up sweating, your heart racing as you take deep breaths in an attempt to calm yourself down. you don't remember a lot, the memory of it already disappearing, but you know that you had a nightmare—a bad one at that. one of your biggest fears made ten times worse, all thanks to your subconscious.

you press your hands against your face, sighing deeply while slowly sitting up in your bed. you look around the darkened room, your heart beginning to race again. the dark makes everything seem worse after you wake, as if everything that happened in your dreams could happen in real life. you glance at your nightstand—you really should invest in a lamp or something.

you've been having nightmares for the past few weeks, each one seemingly worse than the one before it. you haven't woken up this scared before, though. it seems like no matter how hard you try to push it from your mind, it comes right back. you don't even know what fully happened in your dream, so why are you so scared?

it isn't real and it won't ever be real, you say to yourself like a mantra, hoping you can get rid of the fear that's overtaken you. it doesn't really work—your mind doesn't believe what you're telling it, even though it's true.

reaching over to grab your phone from your nightstand, you let out another sigh. these nightmares are becoming an issues, you haven't slept well in what feels like forever. you unlock your phone, opening your contacts and scrolling until you see his—'jay <3', contact photo a close up of him that you had taken while he was sleeping a few months into your relationship.

your finger hovers over the call button. you want to call him but should you? he did say that you could call him whenever but did he really mean that? surely calling him at almost four in the morning isn't in the timeframe that he had meant.

but after a few moments of debate, you decide to call him—the fact that you heard something coming from the living room definitely did not help you make the decision.

you click the call button, holding your phone up to your ear. you listen as it rings, anxiously chewing on your bottom lip.

a small part of you hopes that he doesn't answer, not wanting to explain to him why you're calling this late into the night. a bigger part does hope that he answers, though, so you can't help but feel a little disappointed when he doesn't pick up. it is late, he's probably asleep, of course he wouldn't answer.

you frown, setting your phone aside—looks like you'll just have to get over it and go back to sleep or stay up the rest of the night, your sleep schedule be damned. you figure you might as well do something productive rather than fall asleep just to be woken up again.

right when you're slipping out of bed, mentally preparing yourself to make the at least eight-step journey to tour on your bedroom light, your phone lights up, buzzing against the wooden surface of your nightstand.

your boyfriend's contact name lights your phone up and you pause, your eyes widening. you did not expect him to call you back right now—maybe in the morning when he inevitably woke up confused by the late night call—you assumed you would have more time to come up with a believable excuse that's not something as silly as a nightmare (which you don't even remember).

you're in shock for too long because you miss the call but he calls back right away and this time you answer him on the second ring, moving back into the bed, as you put him on speaker.

"he—"

"hi, baby, are you alright? sorry i missed your call, i didn't hear my phone ring,"

you could tell he had just woken up from his voice—it was deep and raspy, not to mention the slight slur in his words that most likely stemmed from his drowsiness.

"i'm okay, you don't have to be sorry. did i wake you up?"

"nah, you didn't," he's lying, "why'd you call then? are you sure you're okay? do you want me to go over?"

your head spins at the amount of questions he asked in what was most likely ten seconds. you can't help but melt a little—it feels nice to have someone worry for you—and stifle a giggle, it's a little funny hearing how worried jay is when he usually acts calm around you.

that's what he is—a calming presence in your life. when you're spend the night with him the nightmares that you've been having are suddenly nowhere to be seen. he's like your personal dreamcather.

you smile, letting out an amused breath, "i'm okay, i just had... a nightmare, it's not a big deal. it's late, you don't have to come over,"

"you sure? i swear it's not a big deal and i can if you need me to,"

"yeah, i'm sure,"

"if you change your mind tell me, okay?"

"okay," the conversation ends at that, the two of you sitting on the phone in silence. you should've said bye and hung up, but you can't bring yourself to do it. just being on the phone with him brought you the comfort that you'd been wanting, heart now racing for a completely different reason. your mind is taken off the darkness that you're enveloped in, instead focusing on jay and the sound of him moving around in his bed.

"...want me to stay on the phone with you?" he breaks the three minute silence, a hint of amusement in his voice, "or did you change your mind already?"

you grimace at the teasing, pulling your comforter up to your chin, trying to hide even though he can't see you. you stay silent, trying to convince yourself to just ask him—he's your boyfriend, there's no reason to be scared, "no... but can you just talk to me?"

"mhm, 'course, pretty girl. about what?"

"anything,"

"remember when i told you i liked you?" you can hear the smile in his voice.

"that's... talk about something else, that's still embarrassing,"

he laughs loudly, no doubt thinking about how badly you embarrassed yourself in that moment. it wasn't too bad, thinking back on it, but you're yet to get over how you acted. it was... a dark moment.

"it was cute," and he obviously disagrees with your sentiment.

"just talk about anything else,"

he spares you his teasing and listens to your request, responding by telling you about his day—even though you were with him for half of it—about his morning, what he did after he dropped you off at your apartment (he argued with his roommate), how in his friends' groupchat they were all trying to convince heeseung to confess to the girl he likes.

it was four when he called and you fall asleep an hour later, your eyes heavy as jay's soft voice lulls you to sleep. you sleep good—if you forget about the nightmare earlier that night—waking up the next morning to a text message from your boyfriend. you smile softly, assuming that he must have hung up after you finally fell asleep.

unlocking your phone, you read the message and immediately you feel the butterflies that show up whenever jay does anything in your stomach—"I love you and next time I'm going over, no matter how late it is".

note. girl who gets nightmares just wants jay to comfort her 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️ anyways confession fic coming soon Maybw

[theyungihven]

HEAVEN AND BACK ⁕ yunho

KINKTOBER EVENT

☆ pairing: robber yunho x female reader

⁂ KINKS : free use, somnophilia, shibari

☆ genre: mystery, fantasy, dark romance, smut

☆ warnings: use of bedsheet as a rope, roleplay, fingering, v! penetration, reader is naked under the sheets

☆ word count: idk bruh

☆ synopsis : you've always dreamt of being used as an object of personal use by an attractive thief who broke into your house and one fine day it all comes true.

The winds blows the curtains as the rain patters against the bedroom window. He enters through the window, water dripping off him onto the floor.

You lay peacefully on the mattress, tucked under the comforter. He slowly begins to approach you, his footsteps silent. He stands there for a moment, watching you sleep peacefully on the bed.

You shift around, fixing my position so that now you lay comfortably on your stomach with your leg sprawled across the bed however get the thought that someone's watching you, but brush it off and go back to sleep. He watches as you stir slightly on the bed but go right back to sleep.

He walks over silently, standing over you as he looks down. He reaches out, gently touching your hair, a smile on his face as he looks at your sleeping form. You feel the familiar touch and your smile softens before you jolt awake.

As your eyes suddenly open to find him standing over you, he presses a finger to his lips, signaling you to stay silent. He leans down, whispering in your ear, his voice deep and intense. "Go back to sleep."

"who are you?"

He laughs softly at your question, his voice laced with a hint of amusement.

"I'm the thief that's about to take everything you have, love." His tone is dark and dangerous, yet there's a hint of something else in his voice - something that sends a shiver down your spine.

"please don't do anything to me. you can take anything that you but please don't hurt me." you say, sitting up straight on the bed. He can hear the fear in your voice, and a sly smile creeps across his face.

He stands there for a moment, silently contemplating your words. "Well, since you asked so nicely… I guess I won't hurt you." He walks closer to the bed, standing next to it, his hands on his hips.

"how can i trust you? i don't even know you." you ask him, your voice wavering in and out with fear. He laughs softly again, the sound sending another shiver down your spine.

"You don't have to know me to trust me, love. I promise not to hurt you. Just cooperate and do as I say, and you'll be safe.." He sits down on the edge of the bed, leaning in close to you, his face just inches from yours.

You nod agreeing to his conditions as you draw your comforter up your chest, shielding your naked body underneath it. His eyes scan your body, hidden underneath the comforter, and he can't help but let out a low chuckle.

"Smart move. Don't want me to see too much, hmmm?" He says, his tone laced with a hint of tease. "Now, be a good girl and give me your wrists."

You gulp and drop the comforter as you lay bare your chest at his mercy and place your wrists forward. His eyes roam over your bare chest, taking in every inch of you.

He takes your wrists gently, yanking your towards him and flipping your body over with his hands. He caressing your hips for a moment before he begins to place your wrists into a tight and secure knot with a bedsheet.

He then ties your ankles together connecting the wrist and the ankle knot so that your legs are up in the air and your hands on your back.

You whimper due to his man handling as he ties your wrists and ankles with the bedsheet limiting your movement.

He stands up, admiring his own work. He walks around the bed, looking at you from all angles, his gaze lingering on your bound wrists and ankles. "You look perfect like this, love. Helpless and at my mercy."

You whimper at the way his words make you feel and you can feel your core burning up as it gets wet as you breathing picks up.

He notices your reaction to his words, a sly smile playing on his lips. "You like being helpless, don't you love?" He says, his voice a low growl. He walks back over to the bed, sitting down on the edge of it.

"why are you even doing this? do you hate my boyfriend?" He chuckles at your question, his eyes locking onto yours.

"No, I don't hate your boyfriend. I just want what he has. And right now, I have you all tied up and helpless, just how I like you."

"he's gonna kill you once he gets to know what you are doing to me."

"Aww?" He laughs again, the sound sending another shiver down your spine. "Let him try. I'm the one with the power right now, love. And I'm going to do whatever I want to you."

You hide your face into the pillow scared of what he's about to do next but your bare body grows desperate for his touch in this extremely vulnerable position.

He notices your face burying into the pillow, your body trembling with fear and desire. He laughs softly at your vulnerability, enjoying the sight before him. "Don't be scared, love. You're in good hands… or should I say, you're in my hands. And I know exactly what I'm doing."

"prove it then! fuck me so good that i'll never ever dare to fuck any other dick again to the point of obsession." He grins at your words, your desire for him fueling his lust.

"That's a big claim love," he says darkly. "But I'm confident I can deliver. I'm going to make you addicted to me, sweetheart. You're not going to want anyone else but me after this." His hands caress your hips before they move lower and soon you find yourself moaning at three of his fingers fucking you wet cunt.

"So wet for me love that you're taking me like a whore." he presses his fingers in deep, curling them as you buck your hips to get more friction but he slaps your pussy at the act. "such a dick hungry slut."

He presses your hips down, as his hand lands on your ass check burning the skin underneath it. the slap sting but it brings a weird pleasure your boyfriend yunho knows you love. and everything makes sense when your walls wraps around the ever-so-dick that fucks your brains out everytime.

It was your boyfriend.

[ilovejeongintoo]

"𝕎𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕒 𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕪 𝕒 𝕘𝕒𝕞𝕖?"

Jigsaw (Saw) & the Reluctant Participant Kink: Interrogation Play Warnings: cnc, degradation (just a lil),Jungwon is lowkey scary, sex machine, orgasm denial, edging Prompt: Trapped and powerless, you find yourself at the mercy of the infamous Jigsaw, your body craving the twisted pleasure he offers. As control slips from your grasp, desire and submission blur, leading you down a dark, seductive path where surrender becomes the ultimate thrill. How far will you go when there's no turning back?

The second installment to my Kinktober List 2024.

Darkness surrounded you, you were drowning in the dark around you. Your eyes couldn't make out any surrounding walls the slightly dimmed, single light above your head not helping you see. It wasn't quiet though, a whirring in the background maybe some kind of machinery being a constant noise. A smell of old dust maybe cement or stone you couldn’t tell.

When you start becoming more aware you feel the press of cold metal around your wrists and ankles, moving them but being pinned too close to really move at all. They wrapped tight around your limbs and the chair you were tightly strapped to. Your heartbeat increases more the more conscious you become. Your head pounds when you try turning it and a metallic noise sounds out in the room.

Then you hear a voice, talking slow and calculated, and a shiver runs through you. You can't really tell where it's coming from, still disoriented.

There’s bold lettering on the walls spelling out the sentence;” Wanna play a game?” Though your muffled brain doesn’t catch the clue. The writing done with red dripping paint.

"You’ve been living in the shadows of your desires for too long, haven’t you?"

You know who it is immediately. The telltale sign of the room, his voice, his choice of words. It all points its fingers to one person. Jigsaw. You've heard of people disappearing but it all seemed so unbelievable, so distant until right now.

You can’t tell where the voice is coming from. A small old speaker situated in the corner gives the output of his voice a slight crackle. Each word was slow, methodical like he really wanted you to listen carefully.

“For too long, you've indulged in a life of selfishness and excess, but today you will confront the truths you’ve buried deep inside. Today, you’ll face your punishment.”

Your punishment? For what? What did you do? Your mind races to find any explanation. The last thing that you remember before getting here….

Your breath catches in your throat in panic. A hiss cuts through the air. The uselessly dimming light illuminating a corner. That's when you see it, the machine that you've been hearing since the beginning. A big construction of steel, wires, tubes, and complex-looking engineering.

Right in front stands a cloaked figure, masked in the infamous puppet.

Jigsaw

He steps forward brushing his fingers along the machine's surface, the sound ominous, making you scared of what is to come. His voice, though distorted from his mask is clearer now booming through the room without the speaker.

"This machine I constructed will test you—your limits, your fears, your deepest urges. It is the key to your survival."

You struggle more against your restraints, he only continues watching in amusement.

“Your life, your choices... they’ve led you here.”

He pauses slightly  “You believe control gives you power, that by dominating others, you are invincible. But true power comes from understanding weakness. Now, you will be stripped of your control, left to endure the very submission you’ve forced onto others.”

You froze when he mentioned this. Yes, you had been a bit of a control freak and maybe that had led to your partners leaving you but did that really warrant you getting punished by the one and only Jigsaw killer? You weren’t a corrupt authority figure or a drug abuser. You just liked being in control of everything, your life, your decisions, your partners, and everything in the bedroom. 

You couldn’t let yourself be vulnerable with them but it could have been worse, you kept telling yourself.

What if I can’t take this? What if I break? The thought sends shivers down your spine but maybe… maybe I deserve this.

Your brain supplies uselessly, just adding unnecessary fear.

The chains tighten against your body suddenly, pulling you upright and facing the machine. It’s louder now as if it was preparing itself for the task ahead.

"You see, this is not a game of pain alone, but a game of pleasure and control—of denial and submission. If you wish to live, you must learn the cost of indulgence. Every choice you make will bring you closer to release... or your end.”

Your eyes widen in fear your body trembling just slightly 

He moves closer his voice deeper and more intimate now. You can see a mop of brown hair peeking out from his hood and it drops slightly in front of the mask.

“But I warn you... the release you seek may not be the one you think.”

The lights turn on and off, and a cold metallic arm extends from the machine, hovering inches from your body. Terrified you look at it then back at your captor as if your pleading look would get him to release you.

“Your test begins now.”

The metal arms the machine carries click further, stirring in their place. For a moment you hold your breath in anticipation of what's going to come next. The cold air hushes against your skin and you become aware; that you’re still clothed but for how long?

He steps closer his voice as calm as ever though the weight of his words grows heavier each time.

“You’ve spent your life hiding behind the armor of your choices. Your clothes... your mask. But here, there is no mask. No barriers.”

He makes another pause that drags on uncomfortably long so.

“The truth is revealed when there’s nothing left to hide.”

He gestures slowly to the arms and before you can react they lurch forward, grasping at your clothes and removing them one by one. There’s no aggression no rush, the movements are slow, practiced sharp motions stripping you of your last clothing items.

They easily slice through the fabric and your skin forms goosebumps from the cold in the room. You stay impossible still though in case they would accidentally cut not just the fiber.

Jigsaw watches without any noise or reaction, he sees every twitch of discomfort, every taken breath, and every bodily response. His gaze isn’t lustful, it’s calculating almost clinical as if undressing you was just another test, just another day.

He was doing more than just removing your clothes, he was getting rid of your last defenses. You press your eyes closed in hopes of waking up from this nightmare and if not just helping you slip into a state of ignorance bliss. 

He notices immediately.

“The more you fight, the longer this will take,” he murmurs. “You cannot hide from your desires. And soon, you won’t be able to hide from mine.”

The final fabric falling to the floor you open your eyes again, left completely naked, completely exposed, bound to the machine, revealed by the forever flickering overhead light. Your skin burns with the cold but even more from the burning gaze of being watched - Jigsaw’s masked gaze drinking up everything.

For a moment, all is still. The whir of the machine quiets, leaving only the sound of their ragged breathing.

“Now,” Jigsaw finally says, stepping closer, his voice low and deliberate, “we can begin.”

The masked man’s voice breaks the silence, his tone calm but heavy with purpose.

"You’ve spent your life controlling everything and everyone around you. But what happens when the one thing you can’t control… is yourself?"

He steps closer around you, circling like you’re prey and he’s the predator that will sink his teeth into you. The constant noise of the machine does nothing to calm you down, it just furthers the energy in the room.

"Here’s your first question: When was the last time you let someone else take control?"

You thought about it for a moment, your cheeks heating up despite the situation given, out of embarrassment at having to admit to these kinds of questions.

"I don’t remember. It’s been a long time." you reluctantly respond, unwilling to give up any more information. You were hoping he didn’t know you too closely to think of this as a “wrong” answer. Playing stupid in front of a genius killer.

“Please you don’t have to do any of this. I already learned my lesson, just…please let me go.” You tried reasoning because you really would try to change.

You gulped your fear down slightly. Not willing to show how much he affected your emotions. He can’t know, because exactly that, he will use against you.

Jigsaw’s mask tilts slightly, as if in curiosity, though his voice remains in the same tone as always, no hint of any emotion. He ignored your effort to try and convince him to let you go.

"You’re not as good at avoiding the truth as you think. You’ve let someone take control before... and you’ll do it again, whether you admit it or not. But denial has its consequences."

His hand moved in his dark coat, probably pressing a button.

Your heart rate spiked up. And the machine’s arm buzzes, the hum rising in pitch as it begins its cruel teasing, it started slow, the touch foreign. A little uncomfortable on your skin, surgical. The coldness of the metal pipes that brushed against your sides contrasted with the softness of the hands themselves. They caressed your chest, not going straight to torturing your most intimate parts. They just slightly massaged your nipples, making them hard rather quickly because of how soft the hands themselves felt. You stared down at them in focus and bit your lips to stifle any noises.

You could deal with this, if it stayed just like this, which you seriously doubted. But nonetheless, you pep-talked yourself.

Just when you thought you were getting used to the sensations on your body the arms moved down your body until they reached the place that was dripping now. One circled your clit, and buzzed a little in vibration. It made you try and curl into yourself, denying yourself to enjoy the pleasurable feel but your restraints kept you immobile, you could only squirm and clench your teeth to not make any noise however when the other one moved down to your slicked-up hole, and began pushing a solid digit in, a moan slipped out.

You were slowly breaking, each movement making it harder to concentrate, soon you’d have to choose between stifling your noises and answering your captor.

“Avoidance won’t save you. You can’t control what you refuse to face.”

A pause. Then, the next question cuts through the silence.

“Tell me... when was the last time you let yourself lose control—completely?”

The words hang in the air like a challenge, daring you to confront your deepest vulnerabilities.

And you think about his words from before, there was a slight warning in it, making you rethink how you should reply to this one. You pause a little more.

"I… I don’t know. I can’t remember." You nonetheless answer.

His laughter, low and almost mocking, fills the room. Oh, you fucked up, didn’t you? Regret flooding your system immediately, and wishing you could take your response back.

"You’re lying to yourself now. You remember.” He steps behind you now. The hair on your neck rises in anticipation and fright of not being able to see him. Losing that control so easily.

 “You’ve lost control before, and you will again. But you’re still clinging to your delusion of power. Let’s see how much longer that lasts."

The machine’s touch becomes more relentless, it drags so deliciously over your folds, then back into your hole and out again. teasing you more relentlessly now. You were so close but it just wasn’t quite enough. Each time you almost let yourself step over that edge it would get pulled away from you. The constant denial drives the message home: the more you refuse to admit the truth, the less control you have.

There’s only one way out of this. To answer honestly. And that’s the thing you dread most.

The machine turns so loud now, but you can barely focus on anything besides the constant stimulation your pussy is receiving. You’re so so close. Your body is trembling in frustration from not getting any release your breathing is shallow and quick. Your ass was soaked in your own juices making the slide so wet. Your hips unconsciously tried pushing against the hands searching for just enough stimuli to reach your high.

Jigsaw’s voice, calm but with an undercurrent of menace, cuts through the tension. And he steps back into your line of sight his tall frame intimidating even if he isn’t physically big.

“You’re still avoiding the truth. How long do you think you can hold onto this delusion?”

The pressure increases, the sensation teetering on the edge of unbearable, and yet it keeps you hanging just short of satisfaction. The more you resist, the more helpless you feel. The room grows colder, the air heavy with the weight of Jigsaw's impending next question.

Jigsaw’s voice becomes darker, more insistent. He unbuttoned the first buttons of his cape, slowly taking it off. Revealing a dress shirt, a grey vest, a tie, and matching slacks underneath. Formal wear, something you definitely didn’t expect

You threw the cape into a corner of the room. His clothes pleasingly fit his form, lean muscles making them fit on him deliciously. You immediately shook your head from the thoughts invading your mind.

“Since you can’t seem to tell the truth about losing control, let’s make it simpler.”

You sigh slightly in relief, maybe he would make this easier on you. He pauses, letting the silence stretch painfully long, allowing your mounting frustration to fester.

“When was the last time you were forced to submit to someone else’s will?”

He leans closer, the weight of his presence suffocating, even though you can’t see his face clearly behind the mask. You could just slightly make out his dark eyes behind the mesh of the eye holes.

His hand came up to your face picking it up and tilting it, making you automatically have to let your eyes stay on him.

“Tell me, who made you feel powerless?” With his eyes piercing you it was like he lured the truth out of you.

You felt the machine's arms twitch, waiting for the answer, threatening more denial or perhaps something worse. The movement completely halting made your answer finally be something akin of the truth.

“I… I was forced before. It’s happened before, and I hated it.” Your thoughts flashed back to your ex, how no matter what you told him, he just did whatever he wanted. You had lost total control not just of your guys’ relationship but also yourself. And you never absolutely ever wanted to experience something like that again.

Now you were forced to confront that same thing.

The room falls silent, and for the first time, Jigsaw’s voice softens, though it still carries a chilling edge. He caresses your head in a gesture that was supposed to be reassuring but made it feel more mockingly with the mask staring down at you.

“Good. You’re starting to understand. Submission is not a weakness, but denial of it is. The truth you fear most is what will set you free... if you survive.”

The machine’s teasing is slower now, giving them just enough reprieve to catch their breath. The chains remain tight, but the suffocating pressure eases. Jigsaw’s voice lowers to a whisper. His hold on you releasing.

“But this is far from over. You’ve only scratched the surface of your truth. There’s still more to reveal.” He steps away from you, crossing his arms and tilting his head in observation.

The tension from your body slightly eases from the slowed-down movements, giving you time to take some much-needed shaky breaths. The cold air once again seems more present now, prickling your skin your heart still pounding from the onslaught of pleasure from before. The machine’s grip eases just a fraction.

 After what feels like an eternity, he finally speaks, his voice quieter but still filled with unmatched control.

“Good. Admitting that you’ve submitted before means you’re starting to understand the game. Submission isn’t weakness—it’s inevitable when your will is tested beyond its limits.”

It almost sounded like he wanted to reassure you that it was okay, to admit these dark vulnerabilities to him. Well if you did, you might as well do it here. You doubt a serial killer will judge you much for what you’ll be saying.

A brief pause, his masked face tilting the other way slightly as though studying you.

“But don’t mistake this for mercy. Your truth is just the beginning. Now we see how deep your submission runs.”

The machine remains poised, its presence a constant threat, but for now, it lingers, awaiting the next phase of the game.

Jigsaw steps closer, the sound of his footsteps sharp against the cold floor. The black dress shoes that you take notice of now, snapping against the concrete.  He’s still calm, still methodical, but now there’s a palpable shift in his demeanor. He’s pushing deeper into your mind, now that he knows you have started to break.

“Since you’ve confessed to losing control, it’s time we explore something else.”

His voice lowers, the intensity rising in his tone as he moves even closer. Each time he was about to ask a question your heart would pick up a few beats, the only thing filling you being pure and utter terror.

“You’re not just afraid of losing control… are you? You’re afraid of how much you crave it.”

Your breath hitched because you knew, you knew how right he was about that. The tension in the air thickens as he leans in, his breath cold against your skin. A shaky breath escaped you at the contact. Just a little more and his mask would brush against you if he would just take it off and do exactly that. You almost missed the constant rubbing and teasing the hands provided.

“So tell me... when was the last time you gave in to that craving and enjoyed being powerless?”

The question is like a knife, cutting into your deepest, most secret desires. Your body stiffens, the air suddenly feeling even colder, as you realize what Jigsaw is really asking—the fear and desire to submit intertwined.

“I… I don’t want to admit it, but I have enjoyed it before. I didn’t mean to, but I did.” Your eyes fell shut again at your admission like that could hide you.

Jigsaw falls silent, and the air feels thick with tension, each second feels longer and longer. The mechanical humming seems to soften slightly, but the weight of the your confession hangs in the room like a dark cloud.

“Now you’re starting to understand.” His face moves away but not very far.

The machine slows, giving the victim just enough relief to let their body relax, though the threat still lingers. Jigsaw steps back, watching as the victim trembles, their skin still sensitive from the teasing denial.

“Admitting you’ve enjoyed powerlessness is the first step. But now comes the real test. We’re going to see how much you can take before that craving becomes your breaking point.”

Jigsaw stands still for a moment, letting the weight of the victim’s confession settle in. Processing. The air feels heavier, your pulse racing as you realize what you’ve just admitted. The machine, which had briefly slowed its torment, hums again, but this time with a new energy.

"So, you’ve finally confessed. You’ve craved the very thing you’ve always denied—powerlessness."

He steps forward, his presence even more imposing. The cold metal of the machine hums louder, and the victim's body, trembling with anticipation, tightens as the teasing pulses resume. The sensation is different now faster, more concentrated more focused in a new vigor.

Jigsaw’s voice lowers, almost intimate, as he leans in close to the victim’s ear.

"Now, let’s test how deep that craving goes."

He flips a switch on the machine, and instantly, the teasing becomes an overwhelming onslaught of pleasure and pain, pushing you closer to the edge than they’ve ever been before. In a matter of seconds, you're back to panting like a dog in heat. The mechanical arms grip tighter, pulling your body taut as the pulses of sensation ripple through you. It’s like they knew each brush, each thrust, each button to get you closer and closer.

You buck involuntarily against the restraints, your breath quickening, muscles straining. Your moans ring out clearly through the room no restrain anymore in them. 

"Do you want to submit completely?" Jigsaw’s voice echoes, a command hidden in the question.

Jigsaw stands still for a moment, letting the weight of the victim’s confession settle in. The air feels heavier, their pulse racing as they realize what they’ve just admitted. The machine, which had briefly slowed its torment, hums again, but this time with a new energy.

"So, you’ve finally confessed. You’ve craved the very thing you’ve always denied—powerlessness."

He steps forward, his presence even more imposing. The cold metal of the machine hums louder, and the victim's body, trembling with anticipation, tightens as the teasing pulses resume. The sensation is different now—more intense, more invasive—yet still withholding that elusive release.

Jigsaw’s voice lowers, almost intimate, as he leans in close to the victim’s ear.

"Now, let’s test how deep that craving goes."

He flips a switch on the machine, and instantly, the teasing becomes an overwhelming onslaught of pleasure and pain, pushing the victim closer to the edge than they’ve ever been before. The mechanical arms grip tighter, pulling their body taut as the pulses of sensation ripple through them.

Your body bucks involuntarily against the restraints, your breath quickening, muscles straining. 

"Do you want to submit completely?" Jigsaw’s voice echoes, a command hidden in the question.

"Tell me," Jigsaw continues, his voice a dangerous whisper. "If you want release, beg for it. Admit you have no control left. If you refuse, you’ll stay here, until your mind and body break."

You can barely think, your body trembling involuntarily as the machine keeps you teetering on the edge, closer to release than ever but still denied. Every muscle strains against the chains, to try and get out, as you feel your resolve slipping.

"Submit completely," Jigsaw orders, the demand hanging heavy in the air. "Or resist, and you will never know release again."

It was clear what your answer was going to be. Too out of it to even try to resist his commands. Too fucking desperate to get that release, to feel yourself leak onto the machinery below. To make a mess of everything even more.

You're too overwhelmed by the relentless sensations, gasping for breath. Aching for release, the denial becoming unbearable, bordering painful.

You wanted to let go, absolutely you did. You wanted somebody to completely take over the reins that you so desperately held on to. To give yourself completely over, to not focus on any control at all because that someone, you would trust completely.

“Please…” you whisper, your voice trembling, soaked in desperation. “Please, I can’t take it anymore. I submit. I’m not in control. I… I need it.” Each word spills from your lips, raw and pleading, your gaze locked onto his, craving touch, his touch

A sinister smile creeps beneath his mask, a dark victory shining in his eyes. The machine’s movements slow, almost as if savoring your confession. The restraints tighten one last time, an agonizing reminder of your submission, before—release. The mechanical pulses surge, overwhelming your senses in a tidal wave of sensation.

But it’s his fingers you feel now—long, thick, and unmistakably human. Your eyes snap open, and there he is, Jigsaw, looming over you, a predator inching closer. As his fingers plunge deep inside you, you can’t help but feel the unmistakable hardness pressing against your thigh. The heat radiates from him, mingling with your own arousal, igniting a primal fire within.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with lust. “So eager to be used. You’re just a filthy little thing, begging for it.” Your body convulses at his words, caught in a dizzying mix of pleasure and pain. Each thrust of his fingers drags against your walls, expertly hitting that sensitive spot the machines had cruelly denied.

“Can you feel how much I want you?” he breathes, his breath quickening, sending shivers down your spine. “You’re mine now. I’m going to make you feel every bit of it. I’ll take that control and give you exactly what you crave” The way he speaks makes your head spin, and you realize he’s as lost in this moment as you are, his arousal palpable and intoxicating.

“Good. You’ve learned your lesson,” he growls, his voice a low, seductive rumble that vibrates through your core. “But remember… this is only the beginning of your real submission. I want you to scream for me, to beg for more.” The tension hangs thick in the air, the two of you bound together in this dark, twisted dance of desire.

As your mind spirals into blissful oblivion, everything fades to black—just as it all began. You’re left spent, breathless, fully aware that you’ve relinquished the control you once clung to so desperately. In this dark embrace, surrender becomes the sweetest ecstasy, a thrilling intertwining of your desires and his.

[transmascsteveharrington]

Pjo stranger things au in which even after the gods take an oath to claim their children, Steve remains without a parent. He's a half-blood no question about that, he's been at the camp almost his whole life, has been on missions, fought honorably in battles, has the scars to show it.

Still, even after the last child at the camp has been claimed and the Hermes cabin has become surprisingly empty, Steve remains without a mark. He keeps a brave face, tries not to let his sting. His father never wanted him, why should his mother be any different?

He doesn't even mind staying in the Hermes cabin. He has been here all those years, it's become his home, his family. Now that there is enough space he even gets his own little room, right across from Eddie, whose counselor for the Hermes cabin and right after Robin and Dustin, Steve's best friend.

"Ya, know," Eddie says, arm slung around Steve, who wills his heart to beat at a normal pace, "I bet if Hermes could claim you, he would."

He is actually not that far off. The Gods are watching their children. And all of their hearts ache when they get to claim a new kid at the camp and Steve's face falls slightly as he remains without a parent. Most gods don't care about their siblings' children, but there is something about Steve the gods can't ignore. Tragic hero, so lonely, so brave, so filled with love despite everything.

There is a rumor quietly echoing through the halls of the Olymp that Steve remains unclaimed because he is Hera's child. It's a scandalous suggestion, a heinous rumor, a forbidden truth. Spreading it might be enough to cause another war. The goddess of marriage having a child with a human? Unthinkable, and yet. Everyone knows that marriage doesn't equal love, knows how spiteful Hera is, how most of her children are hated. No one could blame her for the affair really, if the rumors were true, if anything the gods are surprised she didn't snap sooner with Zeus having affairs left and right. But if the rumors were true, they definitely would blame her for not claiming Steve. Steve who protects the younger kids fiercely, how cares so much about everyone.

It hurts one goddess especially. Aphrodite looks down at Steve and aches. Aches how he thinks that he is hard to love, hard to want, always easy to leave. Who despite that fear won't stop giving pieces of his heart out, who loves so much even though it hurts. Sometimes when Aphrodite watches Steve, he already feels like one of her own. She loves her children easily, constantly, it's impossible not to for her yet at the same time she loves them on purpose. And as she watches Steve, she can't help but love him too.

She reaches her breaking point on a warm summer night. After the bonfire, Steve goes down to the lake, sits at the pier, legs pressed into his chest in a poor imitation of a hug. He looks at his reflection in the lake and wonders why. Why is he so hard to love? It's silly really, all that had happened was some new Ares kid talking to Eddie. Tall, muscular, pretty and the guy had made Eddie laugh. Steve's thoughts had spiraled from there on.

He's so busy licking his own wounds and wallowing in the feeling of not being wanted that he almost doesn't notice the goddess emerging from the lake like she had once emerged from the ocean at the cyprian shores. Steve startles when he does notice her, before he quickly bows.

"My lady," he greets her politely, always the charmer.

"There is no need for that, Steve," she says kindly and Steve looks back up at her. She is truly the epitome of beauty, dark, bouncy curls, deep brown eyes, dimples around plum lips. Steve is not stupid, knows the goddess appears in the form you most desire, he is just glad he is alone. Robin would never let him live this down.

"What can I do for you?"

"I've come to make you an offer Steve," she explains. "I want you to devote yourself to me."

Steve gasps, stares at her a little shocked. She can't blame him.

"Why would you want my devotion?"

She can tell he isn't asking why she wants devotion, but why she specifically wants his devotions, why she would want him.

"Because I love the way you love," she says with a smile. "I love the way you love and that makes me love you. I admire your devotion, the affection you hold for your friends. If I could, I would claim you as my own. But I can't, so I am offering my patronage instead."

Steve still looks a bit struck, surprised a goddess would want him like that, would appreciate the way he loves. Steve had always bounced back and forth between being too much and not being too much. No one has ever said that they loved the way he loved.

"What would being devoted to you entail?" he asks, knowing there very often is a catch when it comes to the gods.

But Aphrodite means no malice.

"It would essentially be the same as being my child. I will come to your aid, I will love you, I will lend you my gifts if needed. Only that since we are not bound by birth, you would have to take a sacred oath. Become a...paladin is the name your Eddie would use, I belive."

Steve likes the way she says it. Your Eddie. His Eddie. It sounds almost too good to be true, being wanted like that, being offered a family like that.

"Would I have to move cabins," he blurts, overwhelmed by al his emotions. Aphrodite laughs.

"Don't worry, I wouldn't dare to tear you away from the people you love so dearly. I believe you are friends with my children anways, strengthening that bond a little will be enough. But I am sure you and Chrissy will make sure of that."

"Then I take the oath," Steve decides and goes down on one knee. "I devote myself to you, goddess Aphrodite. I will worship at your altar and fulfill your quests. I am yours as you are mine."

There is a tingling sensation as he finishes his oath, warm spreads through him and he can feel himself be filled with Aphrodite's love. It's a lot. It's everything. Gently, she reaches out and cradles his face in her hand.

"Go on then, my brave little hero," she whispers. "I think you have a bonfire to return to, friends, family, your beloved."

"He isn't my beloved," Steve mumbles, blush on his cheeks.

Aphrodite just raises a brow. Steve knows she can see into his heart, he knows he can't lie to her.

"Remember that you are loved," she tells him and Steve will try his best.

He leaves the lake, a tattoo of a circle with a cross at the bottom carved into his wrist. Aphrodite watches him leave, casts a little blessing on the red string connection Steve's and Eddie's pinkie fingers. She knows her paladin doesn't need the extra help. He just needs love and she is willing to give to him all.

(part 2)

[blingblong55]

My Love, Mine all mine -Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Based on a request:

"Broken men know who to love, but not how to love. Broken women know how to love, but not who to love." This is so Simon related 🥺🥺

---- F!Reader, fluff ----

A/N: Because he isn't always some tough masked solider, he is a man with wounds and a life beyond the battle field

It wasn't a shared feeling, he knew that well. You and he had stayed up and talked about a future like you had a clue. He knew your issues, love isn't what you want at times, you miss it, want it, but sometimes just at times, you can't give in to it, in fear of something greater that you don't know about. The smoke of his cigarette gave his not-so-secret hiding spot away. "Better not ask for my jumper again, doll," he knew you were there, knew those steps all too well. You chuckle, "You have to be some superhero," you sit beside him. He shrugs, "Just a mere mortal," he smiles. Silence between you two, speaking the words lips fail to say.

Simon knew you he was meant to love you, but not ever meant to show it. And just as he was about to speak, you rested your head on his shoulder. Classic way to ask for his jumper because you once again forgot your own. "No, not this time, I'm sick today," he excuses. "What if I get sick?" you ask and he chuckles. "You can never get sick darling, remember New Year's Day last year?" 

It was cold, wind and snow surrounded you and he walked to you. The night died down rather quickly, lovers kissing inside as you walked in the snow. Thirteen years of knowing the other, he knew you too well, you want to avoid the romance, avoid the cliche and have something different, but not all can be unique. You know well, he knows too, you turn around, "Go back inside, Si, you'll get sick." He shakes his head. "What, you're telling me you won't take care of me, love?" He gets closer to you, a little pout as he gives you his puppy eyes. "Don't do that, Simon." He smirks. "Doing what, all I'm saying is, why not let me be here with you and just shit-talk all those people who might invite us to their baby showers?" You laugh. "I'm wearing blue," you comment he rolls his eyes. "No way you'll make me wear pink," he shakes his head. You ignore it, knowing a baby shower would come within nine to ten months from your friends. 

He knows you. He just doesn't know if he can ever love you. In this world, a man like him isn't guaranteed a happy ending. Maybe a cut to the throat, death in a dark place, bullets blazing as his body takes its last breaths, that is a guaranteed end. Nothing in this world belongs to him, not even the knife he carries. "I almost got sick," you recall. "Keyword is almost," he looks at the skyline. "So, what is new?" he looks over to you. "Same old story." It was mad, to know he can be the man who loves you unconditionally. You could stab him in the back a million times and a million times he would thank you for doing it. Love works in different ways, his love is dark and deep but real. You could break his heart, expose him to the world, turn him into his enemy, kill him over and over, and each time, he would say he loves you.

It's a dark and twisted fairy tale to love him, but it's love that no one can take from him. He can tell you he loves you over and over, but you would still ask him if it was true. You can kiss him, care for him, hug him in days or nights when he is the most vulnerable, burn the world and watch it fall apart for him, only to have him think it's all foolery. One hug, one kiss, and he would still question what love is. The meaning displayed in your eyes, the feeling displayed in his gaze but neither are too brilliant to take a step and claim what the poets oh so need to see. You are conflicted, getting your heart broken over and over by many lovers, asking and crying to the starry nights what is so wrong with you.

Do you love too much, do you care too much? What if it's you and not them? What then? Simon, the cold stare to the passers and the soft gaze to you. R/N, the confused lover with issues and questions that one man's lips hold the answers to. One New Year's Day, one whisper of a truthful 'I love you,' two hearts, one bed, tears and promises. What makes love is not what others perceive it as. Not for a soldier, not for a civilian who questions all her love. At dinner with friends, questions were asked of when either would settle down like the others did, not knowing the answer was right at that table. Simon and R/N, are two complicated hearts that beat for one reason. To live. But those two words can be more than just a basic meaning.

One stormy night, knock on the door and he opens, shirtless and with hope. "Hi," your hoarse voice is too soft. He opens his arms and you run to them. Antidote, what a soldier like him found in that night when he promised he would be more than just a soldier but a man who loves a woman. A woman who cries in his arms as she gets heartbroken again. Boyfriends, thinking they are better than a true woman who all she wants to do is love and care. Something a soldier like him looks for in the dark. "They don't know what they lost, dear," he kisses the top of your head as he holds you close to him. He is done trying to find reasons to not love you.

You are tired of not finding enough excuses to call him home. Your home. His home. An embrace of a man who all he wants to do is protect the last thing on this earth to love him. It was a shared feeling, you both know that well. It is believed that since the creation of our universe, our galaxy, the dust that made us, always tries to find a way back to its other half. And, as he holds you close, two hearts, under one roof, he finds home, and you find home too. It's not about what piece is broken but what is still there. It's not about love or who or how to love.

Sometimes, love is not just a kiss, sex and a caress. Love is sometimes about waking up late morning, hair all messy, bodies tangled with the sheets and a burst of lazy laughter as you realise your lipstick is all over his face. Love is respect, honesty, trust, happiness, fun, and him, holding you near as he watches you cry over something small. Love is about being imperfect, flawed, broken and having the one you care for sit down, love you a little extra that day and watch as you fix yourself with his hand holding yours. 

Tags:

@ghostslillady @queen-ilmaree @jnsmeyv @madamemelancholysstuff @kit-kats06 @ghostslittlegf @trulyunknownone @rogerfxckingtaylor @cripitique @sinners-sins

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Destiny

Sorry all, megop angst has just been filling my head and I can't get it out. I promise more Astarion will be coming, more fluff Astarion but I need to get this angst out of the way first. I blame Transformers One for this brainrot.

Megatron rested his servo on the window, looking out at the sprawling landscape that was his domain. He watched as his army prepared for their next strike, the sound of engines revving and jets soaring through the sky filled his audials and bit back a sigh.

Why do you do this to me, Orion?

He unsheathed his blade, staring at the blade as his own reflection stared back. It wouldn't be the first time his blade would be stained with Energon, and it wouldn't be the last, but it would be the first time his blade would be stained with the Energon of one he loved so dearly.

Back in the gladiator pits, when he was Megatronus, he never allowed himself to get close to anyone, fearing that one day he might have to face them in the arena. Then the brightest star he'd ever seen in his life ducked into his quarters, calling himself Orion Pax. He'd kept the mech at bay initially, wary of anyone who was from the higher castes but the light the star gave off was far too alluring, and Megatron found himself opening up more and more, until he fell into the deep chasm called love.

He started to look forward to their meetings, started to look forward to seeing the shining pale blue optics, started to look forward to hearing the excited chatter as Orion talked about the bright future he envisioned for Cybertron, a future he wanted the gladiator to help bring to fruition. He wanted that future, but more importantly he wanted to spend that future alongside a certain bright star that had illuminated his life.

And then everything changed.

Orion had stood before the Council, the very same Council that had rejected him, and had been granted the title of a Prime. The mech had the audacity to accept the title, continue to uphold the very structure they were to tear down, and worst of all, had betrayed him.

As he left the building, Orion hadn't even bothered to call out to him. Instead, the mech had stood there, basking in the glory of his new title, leaving the one he considered more than a brother in the darkness, all alone.

Megatron ignored the pang in his spark, gritting his denta. Orion was gone now, replaced by the false Prime. The bright optimistic young data clerk had died the day Optimus Prime was born, and with him all hope for a future together. He powered up his fusion cannon, relishing in its low hum and stepped out the door, all trace of Megatronus left back in the privacy of his quarters. He'd have to kill his past young and naive self someday, or that weakness would be his downfall, and he would not be defeated, not by anyone. If Primus didn't want to give him the destiny he desired, then he would grab it with his own two servos and not let go. He didn't need anyone's aid to grasp what was his, he'd always been at it alone and this time would be no different.

The sound of engines roaring and weapons charging up sent his spark thrumming in anticipation. He could feel it in the air, his Decepticons were raring to go, eager to reclaim what was rightfully theirs, and who was he to deny them that? The Autobots would fall before them and know the wrath of the oppressed, they would know the cost of the lies they had been living in. They would be dragged from their towers, their positions of comfort and be forced to face the harsh reality of life — that they were no different from those they had looked down upon their whole lives. His Decepticons would rebuild Cybertron anew, usher it into a true Golden Age where there would be no false Primes, no caste system, no weak-minded fools deciding the fate of the whole population.

A Cybtertron where no one would ever be unwillingly made into entertainment for the masses. A Cybertron where only those who were truly strong would rule. A Decepticon Cybtertron.

Optimus Prime looked at his newly added weapons arsenal, anxiety gnawing away at him. He never wanted it to come to this, come to a war, but Megatron had been the one to declare it, and he could do nothing to stop the Decepticon leader's destruction except to fight him. Or so his officers said. He hated fighting, hated the sound of the battlefield where the groans of the dying mingled with the sound of weapons being fired, hated the smell of Energon that permeated the air. He hated watching as life faded from blue and red optics alike, hated the screams of pain that would sound all around him as he fought for his life. Most of all, he hated feeling powerless, a feeling that threatened to overwhelm him with each and every Autobot death.

He was their Prime, their leader. They looked up to him, looked to him for hope, and yet more of them died as the war raged on, their wishes going unfulfilled. He may not have killed them directly, but they were dead because he had pulled them into his war. Their Energon might as well be on his servos, no matter what the others told him.

He placed a servo on the window to his quarters, heaving a tired sigh. He wanted nothing more than to end this war, but he also knew he couldn't simply roll over and let Megatron have his way. The mech he once called more than a brother would stop at nothing to tear Cybertron apart, bend what remained of the planet to his will, his rule. He had to fight against such tyranny, it went against everything he stood for, everything he once thought Megatronus stood for. Maybe it had been, before Megatron cruelly killed him, burying the revolutionary gladiator beneath red optics.

His spark ached for the bygone days, the soft tender moments where it had just been Megatronus and Orion Pax, two forbidden lovers pining after each other. He missed the tender touches, the small laughs as they hid away from the world, nestled in each other's embrace. Now the same servos crushed all who stood in his way, the lips that once often quirked into a smile now twisted into a scowl of hate.

He knew the mech he faced on the battlefield was Megatron, not Megatronus, but every time his gaze met the red optics burning with fury, he couldn't help but see Megatronus, the mech he had fallen so hard for. He could never bring himself to pull the trigger, emotions overwhelming him every time he tried. The others chastised him for it, telling him that Megatronus was dead, but he couldn't shake the sight from his processor. Deep down, he yearned for them to be together again, even as destiny tore them apart with each step.

A quiet sob tore itself from his throat as the alarm was raised, shouts filling the base as his Autobots readied themselves for a fight they may not survive. Megatron had been sighted, the scouts reported, and Optimus knew he had to face his fears once more. Running a digit one over a piece of carved metal one last time, he snapped his battle mask into place, hiding the pain and sorrow behind a stoic facade and strode out of his quarters.

Had Megatron thrown out his piece already? Optimus found himself wondering. He couldn't bear to throw it away, not when it held such precious memories, and a small part of him hoped that Megatron still kept his. It would give him the sliver of hope he needed, a sign that the mech he had fallen for was still in there somewhere, but he doubted Megatron would ever tell him if he had kept his piece. For now, he had a battle to win, a war to fight for the future of a Cybertron he envisioned.

A Cybertron where all were treated fairly and justly. A Cybertron where all were equal. An Autobot Cybertron.

Megatron felt something prick his arm and frowned. A piece of carved metal, one he thought he had long lost. He stared at it for a moment, feeling buried emotions flare to life but quickly reburied them. He had no time to dig up the past, the only thing that awaited him was the future he was going to build.

With a flick of his wrist, he sent the piece of metal flying into the wasteland, and never looked back.

[blakeswritingimagines]

Until I Found You

A/N: No real plot but smitten Aemond wouldn't get out of my head so enjoy!

Word Count: 4.7k

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

"My mother had a long talk with me- a…heart-to-heart if you would." Alicent's face fills his mind's eye. He can see her smile, her concern. "She tells me about your…qualities: your sense of responsibility, your kindness. She says you'd be a good match for me. We'd be a good match. We're a good match for the realm. You're a good match for me." His voice lowers a little. His eyes are locked onto yours, studying you. He tries to read you. You stare at him with your deep striking eyes, your face is soft and gentle. You tilt your head as if waiting for his response. You have such a gentle look in your eyes that can melt a man's heart and charm him. "I…I…" He has been rendered speechless 'Is my mother truly convinced that you would be such a good match?' He can't help but think "You seem so…so…" He fumbles. It feels like a lifetime when you pause as if waiting for him to respond, and the world seems to freeze.

And he feels like a young boy again, filled with such butterflies in his stomach out of nowhere in a way he's never felt before. You are far more than a pretty face. He had noticed when you are near that the air itself smells like lilac blossoms. You smiled at him, a smile that speaks of pure innocence, and of your true nature. As if you could read his mind, you spoke the words that would melt his heart. Your voice is soft and full of curiosity. "Yes, my prince?" A soft smile plays on your lips, and you tilt your head in what he thinks is the cutest way, waiting for him to say more. His stuttering and pauses make you want him even more, he seemed to be so charming and sweet. His breath catches in his throat. Your voice has an effect on him that he did not know possible. His hands tremble feeling something he's never felt before coming over him, every inch of your body is calling to him, your smell, your caress, your gentle touches, your innocent voice.

You are a vision from the gods themselves, and he cannot believe you are so close to him, your hand on his neck, your face so close to his, your eyes filling his vision. He can’t take his eyes off you. Every time he thinks it couldn’t get better, you did something that makes him think otherwise. He can imagine how good your lips would feel on his. He feels like there is so much he wants to do, your touch is like a song of beauty that moves through his body, and your voice is a melody for his ears. He feels a sudden rage overcome him. It fills him with a desire for only one thing, to keep you. Keep you as his and no one else’s. You are perfect and he will give up everything he has lived for just to have you. The thought of someone else touching you makes him sick. Someone else kissing you, it is intolerable. He will have you. His mind was no longer his own. The touch and smell of you were enough to send him into a trance, a dark thought had started to form in his head. 'You belong to me,' he thought. And help if anyone should claim otherwise. "I believe my mother is right, my sweet. We will indeed make a good, no a great match and shall wed." He is too caught up in his new thinking of you to notice any concern you may have at his words.

You look at him, with a hint of doubt in your eyes. You were unsure of how to respond to the ideal he's built up. You were unsure If he truly desired you, or just the idea of you. You hesitate as if trying to find words to express your feelings. Your breath catches short as your heart races and feel a nervous tinge of uncertainty of everyone accepting you. He senses the moment the fear enters your eyes. He wants to reassure you. He does truly. You are everything he has ever wanted. In his mind, his heart beats faster so that you might just hear it. You have suddenly become the center of his very existence. "My love, please do not misunderstand. I desire you. I cannot put it into words or actions as I desire to do quite yet. My dear, you are all I want in this world and more…" he senses your hesitation, and his heart is almost ripped from his chest. It is a strange sensation, but he cannot help but notice the beauty in your eyes when they are filled with such confusion and trepidation. It almost makes him want you more. He feels compelled to speak again. "My love, do not worry, your confusion is not lost on me. I know with all my heart that I shall love you always and forever, that you are my very life and I could not bear to live without you."

With a shy demeanor, you step away from him, backing away, seemingly overwhelmed by the passion that is sweeping through him. Although you can see a hint of longing and desire in his eyes, you lightly shake your head in disbelief. "Are you sure, my prince?" The sudden change in attitude is almost puzzling. Your eyes widened, as you felt a rush of unfamiliar emotions you were not really used to. You were hesitant to trust this, but there was something about him that was hard to resist. You tried to pull away, but he didn't let go as he came closer to you. You couldn't stop yourself from trembling and biting your lip as you watched him. Was that how you felt? There was so much emotion between you he thought. He can feel the rage building inside him. It is not easy when you say these things. He is not used to rejection from anything. And he couldn’t let this sit. So this was how you wanted to play? He smiled cruelly, and he would take what he wanted from you…

As months passed and once the word was given, Alicent planned the wedding to be an elaborate affair. With the nobility of the Realm gathered to witness your union, the ceremony was as grand. The ceremony was held in the large Sept of King's Landing, where you were united in the eyes of gods and men. Your family and friends were in attendance, along with many of the most important and notable members of the various houses and factions of the Realm. As you looked around the room, you felt a sense of pride and happiness, and you couldn't wait for your new life together to begin. You were dressed in royal attire, and looking as regal as ever in your white gown. You stood before Aemond with a look of woe on your face, the look in your eyes was distant like you were trying to hide from everyone. But you also seemed nervous, as if you couldn't stand all the prestige watching you so closely.

He was now your husband, as he had desired. You were his, and no one would ever take you from him. Now that you were his, he could do with you whatever he so desired. No one would ever steal you from him, or challenge his power over you. It was a thought that filled his head with a feeling of pure joy. And he could no longer remember how he ever lived without you at his side. You were his one and only his. His new life had just begun, and he could not wait to see what he might do to you. You smiled warmly, looking at Aemond with all your affection and devotion. It was strange, as if something had shifted within you. Something that was almost palpable. You were no longer afraid of his life and desires but rather embraced them with an open heart and a trusting nature. You had truly become one with him now. He could do with you whatever he pleased, and your feelings and needs were secondary to his own. This was truly love.

The feast that took place in the grand hall to celebrate your wedding was filled with merriment and laughter. It seemed a fitting way to ring in a union the likes of which the realm had not seen in many a year. The servants were seen bringing out an endless array of dishes and desserts to satisfy the appetites of the guests. In addition, there were ample amounts of the finest wines and drinks to toast your happy union. There was much to celebrate, and the guests kept at it throughout the night, long into the early morning hours. You both sat together, and you leaned up to him, you were his and he was yours. But he would no longer play a game of subtlety with you. This was his chance to fully exert his power over you. He leaned in close to you, whispering into your ear. It would be your first taste of what was to come. Now that you were his, he would finally begin to make you his own, he would show you who you were to belong to, and what he was to possess, the room is loud with the sounds of the party, but with this single whisper his voice breaks through the noise and makes your body tremble. He leans in close enough to kiss your cheek and whispers in the softest voice. ”My love, I’ve been wanting to say this to you for so long now, and now that I have you in my grasp, I can say it with all the certainty in the world. You… you are mine. Forever and always. All of you.”

That simple yet powerful statement was enough to make your whole world light up. Your heart skipped a beat as you heard those words, taking your breath away and sending delicious chills down your spine. You trembled, leaning closer to him so that your faces were only inches apart, your eyes fluttering with the passion and desire he filled your heart with. Your body responded instinctively to his touch, wanting nothing more than to be in his arms and his alone. You leaned closer to him, breathless and feeling pure excitement. You could feel the heat of his breath and the intensity of his words. They swept through you, causing heat to rise to your very core. Your lips parted as you took in a deep breath, and you felt your body respond in kind. It was as if you had been waiting your whole life for him to claim you as his own. He took your face with both hands, his lips almost touching yours, close enough to feel your breath, your warmth. He kept talking in this soft, quiet voice, wanting you to hear every word. With your body so close and responsive, it was taking all of his wits to resist taking you in front of everyone. The feeling of having you completely submit to him, this feeling of pure power and authority he had over you, was almost too much. And he wanted to see you break completely under it, and no one else would ever touch you, ever again.

The months had passed, and the feeling of excitement and euphoria had not left him. The marriage had been the best thing that had ever been decided for him. But it was not enough. You were more than a wife. You were his possession. He made sure to remind you of this. He would touch you in a manner he felt was necessary to remind you of his control. He would kiss, grope, and hold you wherever and whenever it suited him. It was his right, he was possessive of you. In public he is always close, his hands touch you in places and ways that are meant to remind everyone of where you belong. At times he would pull you close without explanation, just to get the feeling. Behind closed doors, it was even worse. His hands never left you, either around you or on your body. Your very presence was needed for him to feel whole, and he was addicted to the feeling. You were like his drug, and your body was his to use however he pleased. “You will never be with anyone else, only me.”

Your body stirred with such heat and passion that you felt as if you might faint. Your skin crawled with goosebumps as you imagined all the ways he would possess you, all the things you would let him do to you. You wanted to be his in every way possible. You wanted to feel only his touch, nothing else. You were addicted and craved his needs. You could not deny him anything, and you wouldn't even try. “Please… please don't stop…” You whisper in a breathy, excited tone, your body trembling with anticipation of the touch that you desperately crave. There was a pleading tone in your voice as you were begging him to continue. You can feel the heat coursing through your body, your skin was hot and glowing with desire. You need him, more than anything. Aemond smirked at your response, feeling the warmth of your body against his fingers and the softness of your breasts in his hands. He knew how much you loved being touched by him, and he couldn't resist teasing you just a bit before continuing the intimate moment together. "Oh, I won't stop now," he said, his voice low and dangerous, "I plan on showing you exactly what kind of pleasure I can give you." He leaned down to kiss your neck, his fingers still gently massaging your breasts while one hand reached down to unbutton your dress, revealing more of your skin beneath it begging to be marked by him once more. "You're so beautiful when you're this eager for me," he whispered into your ear.

Your heart raced as you felt his lips against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. The sound of his voice sent chills down your spine, making your body tense up in anticipation of what he had planned for you. As he pushed your dress off slowly, revealing more of you to him, you felt a mix of excitement and nervousness coursing through your veins. "Show me how much you love me… how much you want me…"you whispered, your voice barely audible, "I want to see all of you… I want to be yours completely." As he continued to tease and touch you, your body began to throb with desire, yearning for more of his attention. With a final flourish, Aemond pulled off your dress entirely, leaving you standing naked before him. Your perfect curves were bared to his gaze, and he couldn't help but admire them for a moment before moving closer to press his nose against your neck, inhaling deeply as he took in your scent. His other hand moved to cup one of your hips firmly, pulling you closer to him while he looked over every inch of your body with hungry eyes. "There you are," he whispered, "Just as I like." His voice was low and rough, "So perfectly angelic." He ran his finger along the curve of your waist before trailing it down to tease the swell of your ass, giving it a light slap for emphasis.

You couldn't help but feel a mix of embarrassment and arousal at his intense gaze. You bit your lower lip nervously, feeling exposed and vulnerable but also incredibly turned on by the thought of him owning every part of you. "Yes… I am here for you… I am all yours…" you whispered, "Do whatever you want with me… I trust you completely." Your voice was barely audible, but you meant every word of those three simple sentences. As he slapped your ass, you let out a small moan of pleasure, unable to control yourself any longer. "Please… don't hold back anything from me." At the sight of you standing naked before him, Aemond's eyes widened in pure lust as he took in every inch of your exposed form. Your body seemed to radiate an intoxicating mixture of innocence and sensuality, drawing him in and making him feel almost powerless against his urges. He wanted nothing more than to claim every last inch of you as his own, marking you as his possession and showing everyone who dared to look that you belonged to him. "Please… please fuck me…" you whispered, your voice trembling with need, "I want to feel your cock inside of me… I want to be filled up by you."

Aemond's eyes darkened at your words, and he growled low in his throat as he finally dropped his pants, revealing his hardened erection to you. He reached out and grabbed your hips firmly, pulling you close to him until your back was pressed against the wall behind you. His hands roamed over your ass cheeks before he finally entered you with a grunt, pushing into your tight entrance forcefully. "Fuck me," he grunted, "I'm going to fill you up completely." His large hands gripped your hips tightly as he began to thrust into your depths, driving himself deeper into your wet heat with each stroke. Feeling his thick cock push into you forcefully, you let out a small cry of surprise mixed with pleasure. The sudden invasion caused a mix of pain and ecstasy to surge through your body, causing your muscles to clench around his length involuntarily. As he began to fuck you relentlessly, your mind went blank, consumed solely by the intense pleasure coursing through your body. "Ah yes… fuck me, fill me up… I'm yours… I belong to you…" you moaned, your voice becoming increasingly breathless as he claimed your body completely.

His hands gripped onto your hips tightly as he continued to pound into you, his large member driving deep into your wet folds with each powerful stroke. He could feel your tight walls clenching around him each time he pulled out and pushed back in, coating himself thoroughly in your slick essence as he claimed ownership over every inch of your body. "Yes, that's my girl," he growled, "So tight and perfect for me." His balls slapped against your ass cheeks with each thrust, leaving a trail of precum dripping down your sensitive flesh as he continued to dominate and control every aspect of this intimate moment between them. "I'm going to make you come undone for me," he promised. As he continued to drive into you with brutal force, your body responded instinctively, clenching around his cock and milking it for all its worth. The combination of pain and pleasure was nearly overwhelming, causing your mind to become hazy and your thoughts to blur together as you focused solely on the intense sensations coursing through your body. "Oh god... yes... fill me up... make me yours completely..." you cried out, your voice weakening as the waves of pleasure threatened to consume you entirely. "I belong to you... I am yours..." The thought of being completely devoted and owned by Aemond brought forth an intense rush of arousal within you, causing your juices to flow freely from your pussy as he relentlessly fucked you.

Aemond's harsh grunts echoed in the room as he continued to pound into you, his large cock stretching your tight walls to their limit. He could feel your walls clenching around him tighter with each thrust, coating him completely in your wetness as he drove himself deeper into your body. With each powerful stroke, he felt like he was branding himself into your very soul, leaving no doubt in either of your minds about the extent of his possession over you. "That's right, my little whore," he growled, "You belong to me completely." His hands gripped onto your hips tightly, guiding him expertly as he continued to pump into you relentlessly. As he continued to pound into you mercilessly, your body became increasingly slick with your arousal, causing your walls to quiver and contract around his thick cock. The intensity of the pleasure was almost too much to bear, causing your mind to become clouded and your thoughts to drift aimlessly as you focused solely on submitting yourself fully to Alaric's dominance. "Yes… yes… I'm yours… I belong to you…" you whispered brokenly, "Please… please fill me up completely…" Your voice trailed off into a series of moans and gasps as he continued to fuck you with unbridled passion, driving himself even deeper into your waiting pussy.

Aemond's harsh breathing and heavy panting were the only sounds in the room except for the sound of skin slapping against skin as he continued to impale himself upon your wetness. He could feel his balls slapping against your ass cheeks with each powerful thrust, filling the room with the sound of his primal masculinity as he claimed complete ownership over every inch of your body. "Always so tight... so perfect for me," he growled, "I'm going to make you come undone for me... I'm going to fill you up so completely that there won't be any part of you left untouched by my cock." As he continued to fuck you with unrelenting force, your body began to shudder with anticipation, your mind becoming lost in a haze of pleasure and submission. The thought of being completely possessed by Aemond and belonging to him completely sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, causing your inner walls to clench tightly around his thick member as he showed no signs of slowing down. "Fill me up… fill me up completely…" you pleaded breathlessly, "Make me yours… make me yours forever…" Your voice trailed off into a chorus of moans and gasps as he continued to claim your body as his own, driving himself deeper into your slick depths with each powerful stroke. As he continued to fuck you relentlessly, your orgasm approached rapidly, causing your body to quake and shiver uncontrollably in anticipation of the intense climax building within you.

Aemond's grunts grew louder and more animalistic as he continued to pound into you without mercy, his large member pulsing inside your tight entrance with each powerful stroke. He could feel your walls clenching around him tighter and tighter with each passing second, coating him completely in your wetness as he showed no sign of stopping or slowing down. "Mine... all mine," he growled, "And I'll never let anyone take you away from me." His hands gripped onto your hips tightly, holding you in place as he continued to drive himself deeper into your waiting pussy, pushing himself as far as he could go until finally. He could feel the approaching climax building within both of you and knew that soon he would release his load deep within your waiting pussy, marking you as his possession once again. "Yes... I'll fill you up completely... there will be no doubt in anyone's mind who owns this sweet little cunt," he growled, "And when I'm done, there won't be a single inch of you left unclaimed by me."

Aemond's pace increased leaving a trail of hot cum dripping down your ass as he claimed complete ownership over every inch of your body. The sight of his large member buried deep within your tight pussy was enough to make any man envious, and Aemond knew that he held the ultimate power over you now. "Fuck, I'm close," he groaned, "I'm going to fill you up with my seed." His hands gripped onto your hips tightly, guiding him towards his climax as he prepared to release inside of you, marking you as his forever. As he neared his climax, Aemond's movements grew more frantic, his hips bucking wildly as he pounded into you with reckless abandon. The feeling of being surrounded by warmth and slickness was incredibly stimulating, causing his cock to twitch and throb with desire as he emptied his load deep within your awaiting womb. With a loud grunt, he released a torrent of hot cum into your tight entrance, filling you up completely and marking you as his possession for eternity. "There... there's my girl," he growled, "Now you're truly mine... completely mine." He brought you over to the bed, spent but satisfied, as he reveled in the knowledge that nothing could ever separate them from one another again.

As Aemond filled your tight pussy with his thick seed, you could feel the warmth and fullness enveloping your insides, causing your body to tremble in pleasure and submission. The thought of being completely marked and owned by him caused an intense surge of pleasure to course through your body, causing your orgasm to crescendo as you surrendered completely to his dominance. "Ahh… ahhh… I'm yours… I belong to you… Please don't let go of me… please stay inside of me…" you cried out. "I'll stay inside of you... I'll fill you up completely... I'll never leave you... I'll always be a part of you..." He leaned down and kissed you softly on the lips before speaking again. "You'll never be able to get rid of me now. I'm a part of you now." He rested back into the plush mattress and held you, letting his cock press against your womb as he took a moment to catch his breath after the intense fucking he had just given you. "And you'll never be able to forget who you belong to."

As you open your eyes, you gaze up at him with a look of complete satisfaction, your breath coming in quick, sharp intervals as you tried to catch your breath. Your body is still pulsating with arousal, the lingering effects of his touch still lingering on your skin. You smiled at Aemond weakly. You lay in his arms, completely exhausted but utterly content. His hands roam over your soft skin, caressing you, reminding you of the love and passion that you shared together. You felt secure and content with him, safe and content with the way he made you feel. As he stroked your flesh in just the right way, you closed your eyes, breathing slowly and deeply. he could almost hear your sighs and the sounds of ecstasy as you melted in his arms. The look of ecstasy on your face was what made him so happy. He was proud that he had achieved this, that he was the source of your pleasure and satisfaction. The way his hands caressed your body and the soft sound of your breaths almost put him into a trance as well. Your warm breath on him was a feeling he could never grow enough of. This was what was right for him: a woman all his to do with as he pleased.

He leans close and nuzzles his face into your neck. He whispers into your skin, his breath warm and comforting. "My dear, my love, I cannot believe that you are mine to possess. You are so responsive. You are so accepting. How I have been deprived for so long, I have no idea. I believe I would not have lived a full life had I not met you. Please, my dear, never forget this. Now and always, you belong to me. No one else will ever possess you. You are my princess, my queen. You are mine." Your breaths come in short, sharp gasps as you listen to his words. You feel like you were floating on air, basking in the warmth and safety he radiated just for you. The feeling of him nuzzling his face in your neck sends chills up your spine, making your body arch up against his almost instinctively. You leaned into him, your limbs soft and pliable. “You make me feel like a queen, my prince. You make me feel so adored and loved. I am yours, body and soul, now and always."

[maidragoste]

Bastard

Aemond Targaryen x Reader (Daughter of Rhaenyra) 

Summary: Aelor finds out that you are not his biological mother.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

part of the universe of "the queen and her husbands" but can be read independently

Masterlist Serie

It was no secret that Aemond had days when he felt uncomfortable seeing Aelor because he reminded him of Alys Rivers. Still, he always tried to be a good father, one better than Viserys. That's why when he just saw his son enter his chambers with a red face and full of tears he was already ready to cut off the head of whoever he had hurt his son. But that had to wait because now he had to deal with reassuring his child.

"Come here"

Another time Aelor would stay where he was and try to calm himself down. He wanted to show his father that he was already a big boy, but right now all he wanted was to be in his arms and be comforted so he ran to Aemond and let him sit on his lap.

"Why don't you tell me what happened?" Aemond asked as he stroked the boy's back in circles.

"Baelon called me a bastard" replied his son, still crying but at least he didn't seem as agitated as before.

Well, he forgets the murder part because Aemond can't kill his other son but he would definitely punish him for bothering his brother. Though he could already imagine Baelon telling him that he couldn't punish him for telling the truth. It didn't matter that you and Aegon legitimized the boy to the rest of the world, he would always be a bastard.

It was not your intention to lie to Aelor. They never told him that you were his mother, but you didn't deny it when he first called you Muña. He was just copying his siblings and you didn't feel the need to correct him because for you he was another son.

"He also said that Muña is not my mother," he said with a trembling voice "Is it true?" Aelor asked devastated because deep down he already knew the answer. Baelon was right to point out that he didn't look like any of his family. All of his siblings had platinum or blonde hair while he had brown curls. Aemon wanted to make him feel better by telling him that their grandmother, Alicent, also had dark hair but Aelor wasn't a fool. His hair was nothing like their grandmother's.

"Your brother is wrong" Aemond replied instantly. It felt disrespectful for someone to say that because even though you didn't give birth to Aelor, you were the one who took him in first, you were the one who, upon learning of his illness, flew to Harrenhal and took care of him as if he were another one of your children, you were the one who convinced him to bring the child to live with you, you raised him as if he were yours so you were his mother "You were born of another woman" when he saw that his son was about to interrupt him he continued speaking "But your Muña will always be your muña. She loves you more than anything just like she loves your brothers. It doesn't matter that you were not born to her, you are as much her son as your brothers are"

"Your kepa is right," you said from the door, drawing the attention of both. You had found out what happened because Aemon went looking for you worried because he couldn't find Aelor. You were furious when you heard that Baelon had called his brother a bastard, you wanted to question him and find out where he had heard that word from and why he said it to his brother, but you were too worried about Aelor's reaction. You had always feared that once he learned the truth of his parentage, he would hate Aemond, Aegon, and you for killing his birth mother. "You weren't born of me" you started walking towards them "But that doesn't make me love you less than your brothers. You will always be my son" you affirmed as you gently caressed his face.

"You promise?" the boy asked, still not sure. Yesterday Baelon had no problem playing with him and today he seemed to hate him. Grandma had days when she seemed to love him and others when she barely tolerated him. The same with his uncle Egg from him, he sometimes stared at him with deep sadness. What if one day they tell you something and make you stop loving it?

"I promise" you kissed his forehead "How could I stop loving you when you're one of the best huggers around?" you said managing to make Aelor smile. You snatched it from your husband's lap and started tickling him causing the room to fill with the boy's outrageous laughter. You were sure anyone could hear it in the hallways but you didn't care. You just wanted your son to forget about the bad moment that happened.

Aemond looked at them with a smile. He would never stop being grateful to the gods for letting him survive the battle at Eyes God and he would never get tired of seeing you with their children. No matter what the interaction, you could be singing to them, reading to them, playing with them, or, like now, comforting your child. Every time he witnessed the bond between you and the children he always warmed his heart.

"Kepa, help," Aelor asked between laughs.

"I'm sorry, son. But I have a council meeting," Aemond said, drawing your attention.

"Wait, do we have a council meeting?" you stopped tickling your son and put him down instantly, worried that you had forgotten your duty "Aemond!" your husband had taken advantage of your moment of distraction to start tickling you and your son soon joined the attack "You liar" you complain between laughs.

"I'm sorry, my dear wife. But I couldn't let you continue torturing our son."

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[readychilledwine]

What Dreams May Come

Part One - Asher

Summary - 50 years after sending his pregnant mate and children into hiding, Tamlin wants nothing more than to reconnect with his family.

Warnings - Rhys Slander is HEAVY in this series, references to smut, references to abuse, death, schmurder, fated mates and hidden family trope, kind of angst, tension, if you see an error, no you didn't 👀

A/N - I was going to wait to post this mini series, but I can't. I've been rereading it over and over and judging it harshly (as I do all my writing), so I'm putting it out there before I abandon it. Ps- each child has their own powers. You will learn each child in depth during Araceli's chapter. These are just little previews. Bonus points if you can figure out what Asher’s might be.

🥀What Dreams May Come Masterlist🥀Tamlin Masterlist🥀Master Masterlist🥀

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears (seriously peep the blog. Adorable season court Dividers)

Asher was thoroughly unimpressed with the horned beast staring him down as he flirted with the twin river nymphs he had been chasing for a few days now. Feral eyes were locked on his chocolate brown ones before the body of the beast because to slowly approaching. Asher sighed as the nymphs dove back into the water of the river, whispered melodically in their native tongue. “And what manner of beast are you,” He motioned up and down. “I believe parents should write stories about you. Ugly thing, you are.” 

He froze as the beast shifted, long blonde hair and sun kissed skin replacing the fur. Strong arms went across a wide chest, “Be careful with your words, son. You look just like me.” 

Asher, in fact, did not look like Tamlin. Tamlin screamed of sun, golden blonde hair and green eyes, Asher sang for the moon, dark short hair styled to one side, deep chocolate eyes he must have gotten from his mother's side, tanned skin. It was in their facial structure, the sharp jawline, the nose. That is where the signs of Tamlin rested in his son.

He had grown into a tall male, strong from what Tamlin could tell, but definitely with the same soft heart he had. Tamlin could see it in those eyes. Eyes that currently swan with confusion. The Lord of Sping simply opened his arms smiling as his first son dropped the act and came to him. 

“Dad,” the word was foreign on Asher’s tongue. They had been in hiding for so very long, not even mentioning the word out of fear. Asher had not been held by his father since he was 4, but it felt like he remembered. 

Hugging Tamlin, hugging his dad, it reminded him of the first warm rain in a season. Of getting a blanket warmed near the fire on cold nights from his mother. Asher melted into it, savored it as he took in the vaguely familiar scent of petrichor and freshly trimmed grass.

“I missed you,” Tamlin's deep voice made his eyes close as he rested his head on his shoulder. “Tell me everything. Tell me every happy moment, every ache, tell me you hate me. Anything, Asher. Anything.”

His mother was not home when Asher brought him back to the cave she had turned into a true home. The rumors that she could move mountains were, possibly, not rumors in her son's eyes, because, behind the waterfall the cave was hidden by, she had created a home. Everything he and his siblings had needed was magically summoned and made by his mother. They never wanted anything during the 50 years they had been isolated. 

Asher knew now his mom's magic ensured they had beds, blankets, comfort, through technically stealing. To be conjured, it had to come from somewhere. He had written a poem once about being a shopkeeper in the Night Court and coming into an emptied out shop, but Asher would put money on his mother somehow leaving a note to bill the High Lord of Night. 

Asher had also written a poem about his Uncle finding said bill. His mother told him it was inappropriate while smiling and folding it into her back pocket. 

He and Tamlin stayed quiet as he let the blonde male look around, “They say you can take the female out of the Night Court, but never the Night Court out of the female.”

Asher scoffed at that, “I believe she picked our furniture and goods on where she wanted to take from. Can't feel bad stealing from a rich asshole,” he quoted her exact words. 

Tamlin gave him a look, his lips clearly trying to remain in a stern position. “Your uncle is a-”

“Pompous asshole who feels that he is the change the world needs by just existing and not acting,” Asher was raising a dark brow at him as he poured them some tea. “Mom told me.”

“Asher,” Tamlin continued to try to be firm, “We do not speak of family that way.”

Asher blinked at him, unphased. This child, his oldest son, his mind was unwavering. Not even the Gods themselves could convince them of his Uncle Rhysand's good had they tried. It was his mom's fault, she was blunt and cut throat with her honesty, even when she knew lying would have been best.

Asher had found the history. He'd read the story of how his grandfather had threatened the life of his grandmother, forcing his father's hand to tell him where Rhysand would be meeting his mother and youngest sister. He read how his grandfather forced his father to watch as he mutilated them. 

He then read how Rhysand and his maternal grandfather got their revenge. Minds being melted, an innocent female, a victim in her own right, slaughtered mercilessly. Asher’s mother had still chosen his father, though. She was the only one who saw both sides and felt both heavy hands. Asher knew from the sadness in her eyes she would pick Tamlin again and again, though he had not met his own mate to know why yet.

“Do you always chase females,” Tamlin finally sat, relaxing enough to truly appreciate how handsome his son was.

A wide grin appeared on Asher’s face, “I can't help but to chase them. I've never met an ugly female,  father.”

Tamlin internally cringed at the word father, so informal to the earlier plea of “Dad”. “So no type?”

“Pretty, and they all are. Has to enjoy my poetry, and they all do. I have a, uh, certain way with words."

“So you seduce them with just words?”

Asher glanced up, “Why try something else when I am so good at it.” His face was filled with pride as he went to the book shelf and grabbed a leather book worn with love. He handed the heavy collection of paper to him, “Go ahead. Tell me how fantastic I am.”

Tamlin chuckled as he opened the book. It was definitely made in the Night Court, a sign of where his wife had been technically stealing from outside the obvious furniture and leathers Asher was wearing.  The pages were thick, stained slightly from ink transferring from paper to hand and back. His son's handwriting was influenced by his wife. Soft scrolls flowing together like a melody. The poetry was good, very good. “You haven't decided if you like Quatrain or Villanelle, have you?”

“No,” Asher shifted. “Should I have?”

Tamlin shook his head, “I'm over 500 years old and still bounce from around with different formats and stanza structures.” He continued reading an odd feeling setting into him before he closed the book and saw the shocked look on his son's face.

"You write poetry?!" He watched deep eyes light up and the conversation flew from there, father and son, bonding over poetry, over literature. 

The topics grew, varying from serious, to funny, to gossip. Tea constantly poured between them as they discussed being forced to train, of their mutual love of chocolate, of their favorite writers. Tamlin learned so much as the hours past before Asher asked if he wanted some fresh air.

Asher was strong, mentally, emotionally, and physically. It comforted Tamlin as they moved outside using a back magical gate made by Araceli. It took them to a vegetable garden that thrived, insects flying all around, fruit hanging from heavy trees. “Where is this place,” Tamlin looked around.

“We're still in The Middle,” Asher laid out the blanket before gently tossing his bag down. “I'm sure you secretly do recognize the cottage we're near.” The High Lord did, nodding as he studied the place he'd been told his whole life to avoid. The Weaver’s home was deadly, dangerous, and forbidden. Yet his son sat outside of it like it wasn't even phasing him. “Mom made her a deal. The Weaver likes her hair. Mom likes the protect she gives us. Once a year, mom let's The Weave cut her hair for threads in exchange for protection and us being allowed to grow this garden.”

The horrified expression on his father's face wasn't missed by Asher. A bargain with a being like The Weaver was not taken lightly. His mom worked hair to ensure her hair stayed healthy, long, and ready. The Weaver claimed her hair had some magical properties, but all Asher envisioned when he was young was the ancient being using them as some sort of enchanted tie to his mom, ready to rip her from them and eat them at any given notice. 

“Is she insane?!”

Eyes narrowed at him, “She was alone,” Asher emphasized the word making it a dagger. “She did a lot of dangerous things to protect us. You should be worshiping the very ground she walks upon.” 

Momma’s boy. 

Asher was still momma’s boy. 

Tamlin shook his head, “I love her. More than you know and understand. I love you more than you understand.”

“Loved them so much you hid them away in one of the most dangerous places in the realm?” The soft female voice had Asher smirking. Tamlin turned to face a young blonde, her hair falling in soft waves with braids placed strategically to help prevent the locks from falling into soft green eyes. 

This. This was him. Had Tamlin been born a female, this is what he'd look like. One cheek dimpled as she smiled, the asymmetry flattered her, complimenting soft cheek bones, a gently sloped nose, full blush lips. Along every inch of her face, freckles danced, marking her skin like soft kisses. 

“Sister,” a pen met paper as Asher spoke. “You are busy little bee I see.” 

Her hands were both filled with baskets almost overflowing with herbs, vegetables, edible flowers. Her nails had dirt under the nails and staining the skin. She carrying a look of pride and accomplishment Tamlin knew well. This was her garden and it was fruitful. “Your squash was ready,” she was speaking to Asher but her eyes were on Tamlin. “Momma said she could turn it into soup?” Asher nodded, but he was deep into capturing Something on page, a grunt was his only other response. She continued to stare at Tamlin, “Do you know which of your children I am?”

Tamlin wanted to roll his eyes at her, say of course, but he refrained, watching as she moved, sitting next to Asher but slightly behind him. “I know my own baby girl, Taryn,” the High Lord said. “Your dimple gives you away.” He couldn't help but reach for her cheek, but a firm hand stopped him from touching her.

“I don't believe my sister gave you permission to put your hands on her face.” A smirk of pride grew on Tamlin's face as Asher now fully looked at his father and little sister. “You may touch her when, and if, Taryn allows. Until then, no.”

Taryn leaned her head onto Asher’s shoulder as Tamlin lowered his hand. “You two are close?”

“Very,” they answered in unison.

“How were Darya and Amaya?”

“Who?”

“The river nymphs twins,” Taryn glared at Asher. “The two you've been trying to bed for a week now?”

Asher sighed and laid back, “They're impossible!”

Taryn and Tamlin glanced at him, “How so,” the high lord asked.

“They're identical! They said they only sleep with males who can tell them apart! Their hair is the same length. Their eyes both sparkle like a clear lake. They both have the perfect little nymph figure. Hair black as coal. They're gorgeous, fun, witty.” Asher covered his eyes by dramatically laying his arm across his face, “One of them I am most interested in. I believe it is Darya.”

“Does she have a shell braided Into her hair?”

Asher nodded at his sister's question, “She's.. she's just stunning. Inside and out. I may be in love."

Tamlin hid a smile as he reached into Taryn's woven basket filled with fruit and stole an apple. Asher continued telling Taryn his woes before sighing. "I wrote a new poem for her," he whispered with an air of insecurity. "I just.. wish she would respond some way, any way really.

He stood and then reached down to grab each basket, “I'll take these home. I.. I'm going to try just her. Maybe that will help?" He looked to his sister and father for some reassurance.

Taryn nodded, “I like that idea.”

“I think she's special.”

“Then she is,” Tamlin answered simply. “Go. I'll take care of Taryn.” Asher nodded, disappearing in the same gate his mother had opened.

Silence fell between the two on the blanket. The air was thick and heavy, a contrast to the brightness of his daughter's garden, to the smile on her face that didn't reach her eyes.

“You may hold me.”

4 words. 4 soft words. Spoken with hesitation, anger, grief, fear. 

Yet they opened a floodgate as a father pulled his daughter to him, the process beginning again as the sunset behind them. 

Tamlin knew his goal as he took him the scent of strawberries lingering in her blonde hair.

Board by board. Brick by brick. Nail by nail. He was going to rebuild his family. Even if doing so hurt him in the process.

General Taglist:

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[bones4thecats]

➸ Bosses or Parents?; Black Hat × S/O

Character: Black Hat (Villainous) A/N: This was made because I have decided to finally start watching Max's Villainous show and I love Black Hat's character so much! Disclaimer(s): Yea, I have nothin'

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Black Hat ══════════════════════════════╝

🎩 You walked around the Black Hat Organization with your head held high, knowing someone was stalking behind you. This wasn't very uncommon to happen, you always had a price on your head. A price that villains and heroes would try to bag nearly daily

🎩 As you felt the eyes follow you around the halls and monitor each step you took, a plan emerged in your head. And, in true you-fashion, you decided to test this out. It's not like whomever it was could take you of all beings down

🎩 Coming to a halt in the middle of a specifically lengthy hallway, you opened one eye, catching sight of a shadow rushing around the corner. Deciding to stay silent for the time being, you looked out of the nearest window, admiring the desolate view. Buildings destroyed and the, what many would describe as a 'horrible', environment around

🎩 You sighed gently and melted into the ground before emerging behind your attacker. You leaned forward and tapped the nose of the tiny demon in front of you, his arms out like how Frankenstein's would be

🎩 The boy looked at you and crossed his arms, his bottom lip poking out in a pout as he complained to you

"No fair, Mom! You know I can't transform that fast."

"That I do. But, remember, my offspring. Always take advantage of the weaknesses that your enemy is known to have. For example; if the hero is weak to light..."

"You get them to somewhere thriving with light!"

"Good. If your enemy has a fear of their loved ones being in danger?"

"Take the loved ones hostage and force them to watch them suffer." A scratchy and deep voice emerged from the darkness, making your son jump.

🎩 Looking up and smiling gently, you caught sight of your husband, Black Hat, standing there with his sharp-tooth smile there. He walked up to you both and stared down at your son with his piercing eyes, while many others would tremble before his glare, you and your son were the exception

"It's lovely to see you home safe once again, love." You said.

"I always come home safe, why would I not this time?"

🎩 Black Hat watched as you chuckled and picked up your son, allowing him to adjust himself in your grasp. While he personally found such actions to be disgusting, he could stand it for a little while if you and his boy were involved. Not like he'd let anyone else know this, though

🎩 You smiled gently and looked at your husband with half-closed eyes, an aura surrounding you as you both heard crashing approaching your area in the hallway. Black Hat growled lowly as your son looked up in curiosity

🎩 All of a sudden, a flash of neon-green, pink and near-baby-blue passed your vision. Looking in the direction of the wisp of color, Demencia was hissing at 505. Dr. Flug then came out and yelled for Demencia to come down immediately

🎩 Black Hat coughed, alerting the three's attention. They then chuckled. Dr. Flug kneeled and began to ramble in an attempt to inform Black Hat of everything while 505 just teared up as Demencia tormented him

🎩 You looked at Demencia and glared, making her stiffen and look away in fear. You were by no means as startling as Black Hat, but you could be just as heartless and cruel

"-just go." You heard the Eldritch-boss finish.

"Yes, Lord Black Hat, sir!" Flug said, grabbing 505 and Demencia and running off.

"I swear, these idiots are the opposite of what I wanted in a staff." Your husband said.

"But, it is what we are stuck with, love. So, we might as well get used to it."

"Sometimes I feel more like a father to four than one. It's rather annoying." He hissed out, pupils becoming more snake-like while he spoke.

"Understandable." You giggled.

"Mama? Papa?"

"Hmm?" Black Hat answered your son.

"May I go watch Uncle Flug work his magic?" Your son said.

"If it's alright with your father." You answered.

🎩 Both your son and you looked at Black Hat with puppy-eyes, making him gag and roll his eyes. He then raised his hand and motioned for your child to run off. He did so happily, jumping down from your arms and running to Flug's office

🎩 You turned to look away from where your son ran off to to look at your husband, only to see nothing

"Oh, Black Hat. You know my favorite game is hide-and-seek. Ready or not, here I come, honey!"

[stargirl-writes]

heal

pairing : f! reader x anakin skywalker

word count : 3.5 k

masterlist | ao3 link

summary

in which anakin skywalker chooses to run away with you before all is lost in mustafar.

tags : au, angst!!, hurt/no comfort

warnings : toxic love, dark fic, ptsd, and reader being so dependent on anakin, suicidal behavior

notes : my reader character being a healer is my self indulgent insert 😭

i've sat w this 4 so long cause i was like 'realistically, what would happen if anakin ran away?' and i think i've finally made up my mind abt it.

time is moving fast for this fic because i wanted to cover so much, so heads up for the skips!

ALSO, ear-ringing apologist perspective. if u can't handle reader being blind to faults, this is not for u haha!

likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated!

Every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future. 

At least, it was something you want believed in.

The clone war that raged on revealed just how much people can be persuaded to do horrible things when their survival is at stake.

You underestimated that instinct yourself. The burning desperation to not lose your Anakin Skywalker. You thought, you would have killed for him, the way he would for you.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was the one to tell you how Anakin became irredeemable.

It was a blur how you flew to Mustafar despite it. You needed Anakin to admit to it, you needed to take him away from what he'll become.

The crimes he committed made you feel sick, septic like a festering wound.

But, whether you love what you love.

Or live in divided ceaseless revolt against it, what you love is your fate.

You've been so alone. So much so, you can only define a time with Anakin, and without him.

It was gradual. It couldn't have been some higher power that destined you to him, He had been a General of a war, and you, the Healer. It was all odds, that you fell in the right place at the wrong time.

An unwilling hero, and a glorified murderer.

He was crafted to be a tool in the war. Divinely created by the Force with the purpose of bringing balance. And in a war, that meant doing damage, killing.

Every victory he had was a stark contrast to yours.

Every life he takes, be it a droid or a separatist, is a win. And every life you lose is a name added to the long list of casualties.

You and Anakin were opposites.

So, the shock of it remains, because somehow along the way, Anakin loved you. And you loved him. You had each other to cling to.

The terror of What if it doesn't last, What if there's no one else? What happens if it goes back to being alone? persists.

And you might not belong anywhere else.

But you were his. As he is yours. Not in the manner of possession. Yours in the way of devotion.

Mine to tend to, mine to care for, mine to love.

You knew that Anakin's love was conditional. You were only the one in front of him. You didn't misunderstand. You let him use you anyway.

It's not like you were loving him unconditionally, it was because you were terrified to be lonely.

At least, in the beginning, you believed so.

Most days were occupied by your duties. And Anakin would love you in a way that is shaped like fingers wrapped around a throat. Incessant. Hungry. Teeth deep in possession. Making up for the little time, holding you against him as if he was bracing himself that someday you won't be around.

It felt like he was always saying goodbye.

So, though your heart was nearly breaking out of your ribs, you flew by yourself to Mustafar.

A pile of lifeless Separatist figures greeted you in horror.

It was true. Anakin had gone to the dark side. What he did with those children... 

The fear consumed you like a corrosion, but still, you stood in front of him, begging him to come back.

Anakin had carried a deep malaise when you had found him. It was almost emanating from his blood-stained robe, a coldness, a deadly assurance.

"You're not supposed to be here," Anakin says in a strangled voice. His hands firmly holding your arms.

The color of his eyes startled you. It was like looking at a ghost, and all that was left was an unending rage. You fought to not let your fear swallow you.

"Anakin, we have to go" Your lips quivered, not entirely sure what you were planning.

There will never be escaping the things he's done.

You want him to go away with you, anyway.

Every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future. 

For a while, it was quiet. Anakin's glossy blue eyes were gazing at you, in conflict, and begging to be understood.

"I can't... Don't you see? I've restored justice to the galaxy" He abruptly lets go, and turns, concealing his face away from your sight. "The things I've done... I can't, there's no running away from it"

The guilt he feels leads him to think that the only path now is through the one he sacrificed his morality for.

"No," you struggled, voice failing to hide your anguish. "Anakin, you can't let this be your fate. Run away with me." You pleaded, eyes filled with tears.

A life of loneliness. With no one, the way it used to. 

Then, Anakin half turns. He surveys your willingness to take him as he is. Maybe, even wanting to believe it.

You have always loved Anakin, even the parts you have not understood.

Perhaps, this was the similarity that bound you together. Burning devotion. One that allows you to see past your moral code.

You gave so much to the war. You'd run yourself spent from the hours. You fought so hard to keep people from dying. You'd never taken anything but this. A chance at life. Away from it all.

"I would've done anything you asked of me" His voice reveals his devastation.

You stepped forward, "Then come with me, Leave it all behind, I need you"

You held your breath, half convinced that this may very much be the end of things.

But Anakin takes your hand, and you don't waste a minute more to take him away in your ship.

Your hands shook the entire time.

The galaxy was silent when the war ended.

Mace Windu's attempt to assassinate the Chancellor made the Jedi an enemy of the Empire.

It triggered an Order that made clone soldiers turn against their Generals. The Jedi are hunted down for treason.

You and Anakin will never find security again.

The atmosphere was thick with emotions that were strained by the abruptness of events. It was making it so much harder to breathe. To live with the truth of it.

All three years of the war are reduced to two moments; Anakin falling into Palpatine's manipulation, and Anakin choosing to run away with you.

You caught yourself slipping away. Tucked in a corner of your mind where you can feel safe.

The healer's oath replays in your mind, the cruelest reminder.

Blind to faults, blind to good. Serve to save, not to see.

As the jedi healer, you weren't allowed to deny patients. You wondered whether that played into role when you stomached all the horrible things Anakin did.  Serve to save, despite, despite, despite...

You landed in a remote place on your home planet of Hapes.

It was a secluded cabin that you used to go to when you were younger. Surrounded by a lake that stretches as far as your eyes can see. It was the first thing that came to mind when you set your ship on autopilot.

Anakin was quiet the entire time.

You, too, became paralyzed by the events that has unraveled.

For a few days, it remained like that.

Though the event has passed, your body can't quite regulate.

It still feels as though someone will find you. And take Anakin with them. You knew your hypervigilance was a consequence of your trauma, but knowing doesn't mean you can let the feeling go.

Even Anakin responds to mild stressors as if he was still in the war. He'd not let you off his sight the first few weeks.

You felt as though Anakin was trying to process everything in his mind. And you grew terrified of his growing silence. Knowing Anakin meant knowing his tendencies to vacillate violently. The reality of what he had done would set and it'd twist into something septic. An unending shame.

You were convinced that he'd have killed himself from it.

But then he'd stare at you deeply as if he was committing you to memory. He'd coddle your face in his palm. He'd hold your hand, hands that are capable of so much rage, and so much tenderness. He'd hold you tight against him in bed, the way he used to.

He can't quite communicate it through words yet, so he'd rely on his touch to let you know that he was still here. Your anxieties eased after. He needed to detangle it on his own. You'd be there whenever he is ready.

Obi-Wan Kenobi appears the next month.

It was through luck that you were the one to open the door.

You knew Obi-Wan would want Anakin to answer for the crimes he's committed.

You won't let him.

"What do you want?" You say cautiously. Stepping forward to the Jedi Master to stop him from entering your new home.

Obi-wan furrows his eyebrows at your action. He gazes at you for a moment before speaking up. "You know what he's done, [Name]"

"The Republic has fallen. The system that replaced it won't hold him to what he's done. It's the very reason for its existence, anyway"

Obi-Wan's eyebrows flashed hearing your words. It seemed as though you'd be the last person he'd expect to exhibit such... heartlessness.

"And what, do you intend to keep him here forever?"

You looked down, fiending an expression of indifference you learnt from Anakin.

"I'm more selfish than he is"

Obi-Wan sighs. There were no more Jedi Council to hold Anakin accountable. You wonder if Obi-Wan had gone looking for him out of the responsibility he felt he had. You could use that.

"If you have any love left for Anakin, You'll leave him with me" You persuaded.

Obi-Wan sharply looks at you. You knew he was being torn apart by his mind and heart.

The door swings, revealing Anakin who appears behind you.

Anakin's arm extends to put you behind him. Obi-Wan was caught, stricken by the sight of his apprentice. You held on to Anakin's forearm.

You held your breath.

Then, Obi-Wan opens his arm to hug Anakin.

Anakin froze, perhaps not expecting his Master to embrace him after...

He turns his head to look at you, then back to his Master. And he reluctantly wraps his arm around Obi-Wan.

You exhaled finally.

You saw Obi-Wan's glossy eyes as he pulled away. He may not forgive Anakin for all the things he's responsible for, but his love for him surpasses all the anger he has.

Gaining his master's acceptance, Anakin became recognizable once more.

However, Obi-Wan could not stay. Perhaps, he's grown sick of stomaching the love he had for Anakin. It was not an easy feeling to be fond of.

When Obi-Wan left, Anakin finally came to you.

It hauntingly paralleled the moment he broke down after he lost his mother. After he gave in to his rage. Only this time, he didn't hold the pose of defiance and came undone, weeping for what he'd done.

You held him and told him that what matters now is what he'll choose to do.

And in the months that come, Anakin has fought to deserve your forgiveness.

He wanted to earn your love.

As a healer, your experience with foraging natural medicine made you more equipped to build a sustainable life. In six months, you were able to make this house by the lake a place to call home.

But, Anakin is being dragged through time. He'd do his best to help, but you can feel his... silence. The weight of it, this was not the life he was groomed to have. He has always lived off the adrenaline. The absence of it makes him constantly feel as though he is at the other end of the high.

It'd worry you whenever he comes home late from a hunt. He's always been reckless, that much hasn't changed. He'd come home covered in tissue deep cuts, bruised muscles, and a dead-pan look in his eyes. It was a topic that you tried to communicate— and a topic Anakin would respond defensively to.

"It's nothing" He'd dismiss whilst you were dressing the wound.

You'd press the clean gauze over his skin, on the brink of anxiety. He'd wince and take the gauze from your hand.

And you'd stand up and leave, because your patience would have run out by then.

It upset you how he always stands on a cliff to wait for the winds to swoon him over because he won't jump, he won't make that decision himself.

Your breaths were shallow as you tried to calm down after yelling about how his passivity over danger was eating at you. You needed him to try. Because you can't save him on your own.

"I'm sorry" Anakin looks down, receding. " I just don't know how to do this" He admits, eyes wide, childlike, helpless.

And you thaw, breaths shallow as you fought to not cry from the anger.

"Anakin, if you don't..." You began, looking down at the ground as if the words would appear before you there. "if you don't want this anymore, you can go"

Because the entire year you have spent in this cabin, it felt like time has frozen. You hoped that in time, you and Anakin would find the courage to move past the war. Of course, it was futile, you can never take back what you've given to the effort.

Whatever is left of you and Anakin is all there is now. And sometimes, it feels like there is nothing. Just ghosts of who you once were. You weren't sure if being with you was making any difference at all.

You were selfish, but not enough to keep him as he wastes away. You'd let him go, even if it'd cripple you forever.

Anakin grabs both of your shoulders firmly, forcing you to look up to him.

"Why do you think I came with you?" Anakin's voice was stern. His eyes fixed, determined to imprint words to your heart.

You held on to his arm, swallowing your anguish. "I only meant that if I'm not doing you any good, you should—"

"And where would I go?" He interrupts, unrelenting.

"I don't know" You admitted. You're ruining him. You've done this to him. You should let him go.

His grip loosened, and his lips kept opening and closing as if he was eating up the words before letting it leave his mouth.

"—I'm trying, [Name]"

"I'm giving you my life, I don't have anything larger to give" His voice breaks, and his head dips. "I'm trying" he repeats.

You felt his tears warm against your clavicle. Your fingers tangling with his hair.

"I know, Ani" You coo gently. "We'll try together" You promised.

It was becoming clearer that he was alleviating his sins by trying to kill the entity that once controlled him. It was also becoming harder to see a monster when all you see is Anakin, the love you abandoned everything for.

Anakin, who was sold as a slave, and then freed, only to be chained to another lifelong servitude through the Jedi. Anakin, who was dropped in the middle of a war, and made responsible for a child whilst being a child himself.

The Jedi Order relied on his nature of winning, despite not agreeing with his tactics. He'd be patronized for his violence, which his life would soon be defined by. Anakin's worst action is murder, the same way his best action is murder. Because if he doesn't answer to the shots fired, he'd be the one receiving them.

He was never afforded any space to become anything else.

Except when he's with you.

Anakin can become cruel, the same way he is loving. Two truths can exist at the same time.

And with the months that flew by, you watched as Anakin continually chose to not let his darkness define him.

You were learning things about him that you couldn't have had during the war. The way he neatly keeps inventory of his tools. The intense focus in his eyes when he is concentrating. The way the wood creaks— the cadence of his steps. All committed to memory because no one else can know him the way you do.

He told you, you saved him. And you wept, unsure whether what you did was really an act of selflessness.

Living with him became easier. No more effort to try to gain his love. No approval, no admiration to attain. There is no role to play, no one to convince. Just, being. There was so much time, and the only thing that mattered was; how long do we have each other?

Most days, Anakin would carry his grief so well, that you'd forget it was even there. He'd work to minimize it, to live with it. However, when the dark comes, he has no control over his dreams. and the overwhelming shame and guilt seep.

It had been two years when you woke up abruptly to find the space beside you empty.

You grabbed your robe, the cold midnight air felt crisp against your skin. Finding Anakin was easy. He'd always wander towards the edge of the lake, staring at the moons.

"It's cold, Ani, come back to sleep" You urged, but Anakin's gaze was far away.

He has chopped some of his hair, and it looked the way it used to during the war. It startles you sometimes to remember how young he still was.

"I had a dream" He speaks softly, arms finding a way to snake around you so he'd press you against him. "It felt as real as you now" His gaze lands on you.

It terrified you to ask, but you did anyway.

"We had a child"

Oh.

You chuckled in surprise. Stepping back to process what he said. It just never seemed to occur to you, then. Though you have never dismissed the idea, it just felt like you were barely surviving to try to raise a child.

Anakin smiles when he realizes he made you flustered. "Good thing it was only a dream?"

You let out a breathless laugh, somehow relieved that Anakin was not seriously considering it.

"Yes," You weren't ready. You may never find it in yourself to ever be ready.

"We're not bringing a child now, not like this"

Anakin's expression melts, "Yes, the empire is growing stronger" His guilt resurfaces.

"I never imagined it to be like this for us," He thinks out loud,

"We have to make the best of what we have" You sigh.

"I've been thinking" Anakin begins, "maybe, there is still something that can be done"

You try steadying your breath, somehow bracing yourself for this moment; when he'll want to fight again.

It was everything he was made for. You knew that, you just didn't think it'd be in under a short period.

Something was screaming inside you. A fear, that you thought had gone when you ran away with Anakin. It was telling you that you were going to lose him. And you, selfishly, want to stop him. He can't... if he goes, he'll die. And you can't even begin to imagine what'll happen to you if he dies.

"How?" You asked despite yourself.

"Ahsoka mentioned something about a rebellion," He says, voice thick with something he hasn't had before. Hope.

"The galaxy needs changing" He steps forward.

You shook your head, overcome by the anxiety of it. "Anakin, I'm never going back"

He turns on his heel, eyes narrowed at your proclamation. "I didn't ask you to come back"

You tilt your head, "Of course, you weren't" Though you knew you were being unfair, just the idea of it was sending stress already.

Anakin's eyebrows knit. "I'm only thinking out loud, it's one thing to consider it but another to act on it" He defends.

Though, you know this is where it begins. And you were responding defensively because you knew where it would lead.

Anakin will forever feel as though he has to restore the galaxy to how it was before he helped destroyed it. It won't be long until he'd despise himself for choosing to stay here with you. Especially since it's been drilled into him that he's supposed to be the one to bring balance to the force.

Whether he loves you or lives in a divided ceaseless revolt against it, what he chooses to love is your fate.

His purpose or you. 

Going would give him his closure.

Going would anchor you to the hells of your biggest fear.

"Anakin, please don't go where I can't follow" Your voice broke, begging. It was selfish to want to keep him for the second time.

And you weren't sure whether your love would be enough for Anakin to stay.

Not when it only brought him here, a home by the lake, forever standing on thin ice that always threatened to break under.

You were living under the false pretense of security. All of this, the house, the lake, the isolation, are reminders that you and Anakin will never go back to normalcy, no matter how much you pretend.

A knife may dull, but its purpose remains to cut.

Anakin's expression softens and he presses his lips on the temples of your forehead.

You were slowly understanding that the entire galaxy's fate was carried inside Anakin Skywalker.

The chosen one.

Every decision he made was informed by that pressure. No matter how personal, it always builds to a path that he can't control, because it's already laid out for him.

Created by the force, to be used by the force.

So you can't find the heart to be angry when he left.

You decided it would be hopeless to try to stop him. Anakin has this view that everything in his life, he has to work to earn. To deserve.

Even this... freedom that you have.

He has to contribute to it, in this perverse grandiose action as to fight the Empire. So he can accept that you do indeed love him.

He has to seize this opportunity with Ahsoka. He is more autonomous of his power now. He is once again engaging in something that's risking his life. He can fulfill his destiny.

It didn't make it any less painful.

You had to inspire confidence in him, otherwise, he'd doubt. So, you pushed all your feelings away and smiled when you kissed him goodbye.

You never left the war. The two years you stole were only stalling the inevitable. Perhaps, two years was too generous.

"Bring him back, please" You took Ahsoka aside. Ahsoka nods uncommitedly. For, she won't promise what she can't deliver.

And once again, you have found yourself alone.

He swore he'd have done anything for you.

Just not this one.

His belief that he has no inherent right to life; and has to work to earn anything made you feel as though you were his... prize. A trophy. In which he'd fight for to retain but not value enough to take care of.

He should've stayed. It's good he left.

Because now that you have nothing, you're finally able to detangle how Anakin doesn't love you. Not in the way you thought. Anakin loves that he has you.

You have always put his wellness first, that now, when you are not so worried by walking carefully around his hurt, you are able to feel yours.

Perhaps, losing Anakin was good. You can finally put yourself first. Whilst he still seeks answers in the past

There is no going back to the way it was. You tried living 'normally' and it just became a bitter reminder that you are forever changed.

Acceptance of that and lending yourself a little more compassion might just be the beginning of your healing.

footnote

i'm obsessed with the writing style where authors strikes through the text ! it's such a smart way to imply that the character that's narrating is choosing not to allow those thoughts and so it looks like it's been scribbled out .

also, quoting ka applegate on relationships not lasting outside the war :

"wars don't end happily. not ever. often relationships that were central during war, dissolve during peace. some people who were brave and fearless in a war are unable to handle peace, feel disconnected and confused. "

[kymerawrites]

BROKEN PROMISES

Summary; After being betrayed by your own organization, you turn to Simon Riley for revenge. He welcomes you into his dark world with open arms, and you fall for his charm. However, Simon's love is conditional and manipulative, and he exploits your pain for his own gain. As you become a pawn in his sinister game, you discover that there is no happy ending with a man like him.

I never imagined I'd find myself standing on the other side of the law, but after being betrayed by my own organization, turning to Simon Riley for revenge seemed like the only option left.

The shadows of the dimly lit warehouse loomed around me as I waited for him, the man known only as Ghost. Every whispered rumor about his ruthlessness echoed in my mind, but the sting of betrayal from those I once trusted burned hotter. As his silhouette emerged from the darkness, a chilling sense of foreboding washed over me. This was a dangerous game I was about to play, but the hunger for vengeance had already consumed me.

"You're late," his voice was cold, yet mesmerizing, cutting through the silence like a knife.

"I had to make sure I wasn't followed," I replied, trying to mask the fear and uncertainty in my tone.

His eyes, hidden behind the skull-patterned balaclava, seemed to pierce through me, assessing, calculating. "And why should I trust someone who's just switched sides? How come I should trust someone like you kyla?" He said slowly

"Because," I said, stepping closer, "no one knows my former team better than I do. I can give you everything you need to destroy them."

A slow, menacing smile curved beneath his mask. "Very well, but remember, loyalty to me comes with a price."

That was the begin of something destructive and irreversible.

Days turned into weeks as I immersed myself in the underworld I once fought against. Ghost was true to his word ‘loyalty to him came at a steep price.’ I found myself entangled in a web of deceit, violence, and power plays, each day pulling me further from the person I once was. The revenge I sought came with unforeseen consequences, and the closer I got to Ghost, the more I realized how deep his darkness ran.

The first step into Ghost's world was like diving headfirst into a pool of shadows, each promise he made, each smile that tugged at his lips, was a carefully crafted act of manipulation. Despite the danger, I couldn't help but be drawn to him.

As time went on, I found myself falling deeper into his web of darkness, blinded by my desire for revenge and the subtle charm he wielded like a weapon. He played me like a puppet, each string tugged with calculated precision.

"You're not here to make friends, doll. You're not here to trust." That was something he'd say often

The late nights became a haze of alcohol fueled debauchery and shattered promises. Ghost's presence loomed over me, his voice a drug that sent my senses reeling. There were times when he'd hold me, his touch a mix of tenderness and possessiveness, just barely brushing the line of cruelty, as if testing my limits.

"You're mine," he'd whisper, his breath hot against my skin, "and I don't share my toys. Remember that."

As the nights bled into days, I found myself trapped in a cycle of torment. Ghost's love was a twisted, manipulative game of give and take, a constant battle for power. One day, he'd be gentle, his touch soft and soothing, the next a storm of passion mixed with cruelty.

"You're a distraction," he'd tell me, his eyes cold and devoid of all emotion. "You're a weakness I can't afford."

"Then why do you keep me around?" I once asked, the pain in my voice echoing through the room.

He'd turn his gaze to me, a flicker of something dark and dangerous in his eyes. "Because, doll, you're not just a weakness." He'd take a step closer, the air between us crackling with tension. "You're a toy I can't quite put down yet."

The days when his eyes would go cold and devoid of all life were the most torturous. He'd treat me like a mere tool, his touch harsh and biting, his words a barrage of insults and harsh truths.

"You're a liability, love," he'd say, his hands grasping my wrists, holding me against the wall. "You're nothing but a complication."

"I am not a complication!" I'd fight against his grip, my heart racing, my mind spinning from the clash of emotions.

He’d press closer, his body pinning me to the wall, the heat from his body making me shiver. A sinister smile would play on his lips, a cold gleam in his eyes. "Oh, but you are," he growl. "A beautiful, messy complication that I both hate and cannot get enough of."

I always felt the question, was this the right decision? Why did I ever resort to ally with our biggest enemy as an act of vengeance. The moment Simon layed eyes on me he knew he could have me in the palm of his hands, at his mercy.

Ghost had a way of sensing weakness and exploiting it, and he knew from the first moment he laid eyes on you that you were ripe for the taking. He could see the fire burning in your eyes, the fierce determination to seek revenge. He could see your vulnerability, the raw pain and anger lurking just beneath the surface.

With a sly smile, he'd reach out and gently caress your cheek, his touch both gentle and possessive. His voice would be a seductive whisper in your ear, "You came to me because you were desperate. You came to me because you had nowhere else to turn."

Ghost's words were a masterclass in manipulation, each one carefully calculated to mold you into what he wanted you to be. The sweet words were a honey trap, a temporary release from the harsh reality of your situation. The mean words were designed to chip away at your resolve, to remind you of your helplessness.

And the devoid and emotionless words were there to dehumanize you, to remind you that you were nothing more than a toy in his games. But it was the passionate words that were the most dangerous.

One evening he had an informant who posed as a driver for one of the other men in his gang on the floor, I knew him that was one of my old teammates, the moment he saw me he went mad, rampaging a lot of slurs and words which most couldn’t be made out

Ghost stood back, silently watching the scene unfold, a smirk on his lips. He enjoyed this, seeing the pain and suffering play out before him.

"Seems like you know him," he said casually, leaning against a wall.

My teammate went on to call me all the names in the book “you dirty lying bitch! I knew you would end up doing the wrong thing, oh I hope you’ll get mauled when the rest sees you when you have no where to hide anymore!” He screamed

I looked at him coldly and chuckled, my gaze darkened as I looked him in the eye “Simon, why do you let this nothing worth loser disrespect you, and me.. no one should disrespect you or his woman.. isn’t that right?” I smirked as I turned around to face Simon.

This was the first time I acted like this, like I belonged in this position, next to him. As if I was his backbone

Ghost's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise in his gaze. He was not accustomed to seeing you take charge like this. You had always been the submissive one, the one following his lead, obeying his orders. But now, you stood there, exuding a confidence that he had never seen before.

A slow smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "My, my," he chuckled, his voice a low rumble. "Looks like someone's found their spine."

Simon walked towards the man, who was held down by 2 of his other man. Guns pressed to his side

The man's eyes widened in terror as Ghost sauntered towards him. The air grew tense, thick with the promise of violence.

Ghost came to a stop right in front of the man, looking down at him like a predator sizing up his prey. "You had a lot to say just now, didn't you?" he growled, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone.

"Insults, name-calling, threats... all pretty bold words for someone in your position." Ghost's lips curled into a sinister smile as he leaned down, his eyes locked on the man's terrified face.

"But you seem to forget," he whispered, his voice dripping with menace, "that I don't tolerate disrespect. Not towards me, not towards my people. And definitely not towards her." He gestured towards you with a nod.

The man's face paled as he realized his mistake. He had crossed a line by disrespecting you, and now he was facing the full wrath of Ghost.

"Please," he whimpered, struggling against the men holding him down. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

Ghost cut him off with a sharp backhand to the face. "Too late for apologies," he snarled. "You had your chance to show respect, and you blew it."

Ghost had zero tolerance for disloyalty and disrespect, that much was clear. The former teammate who had once been part of your team now found himself on the wrong end of Ghost's wrath.

"You forget who you're talking to," Ghost growled, his eyes narrowing as he stared down at the man. "My word is law, and your words are nothing but trash."

Simon clicked his finger and told me to come, as I walked towards Simon he put a gun in my hand “prove to me that the reason you came to me wasn’t a lie. Prove to me you are loyal to me.” He said coldly

Your heart pounded in your chest as Ghost handed you the gun, his words ringing in your ears. This was it, the moment of truth. He wanted you to prove your loyalty, to show him that you hadn't made a mistake coming to him.

You took the gun, the cold, hard metal feeling unfamiliar in your hand. You looked up at Ghost, his eyes cold and calculating as they gazed at you.

"What do you want me to do?" you asked, your voice steady despite the fear that gripped you.

“Show ur revenge, show ur vengeance” he said leaving me to finish the job

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself as you aimed the gun at the trembling form of your former teammate. This was the moment you had ached for, the chance to exact your revenge on those who betrayed you.

Ghost watched you intently, his gaze unwavering as you stood ready to pull the trigger. His eyes were dark and emotionless, no trace of the man you had come to know during your time with him. This was the ruthless, coldhearted version of him, the one who expected total obedience and loyalty.

You felt the weight of the situation press down on you, the lives of other people in your hands. But Ghost's command echoed in your head, demanding that you prove your loyalty to him.

With one last deep breath, you steadied your aim and pulled the trigger, ending the life of a man who was part of the betrayal.

Your heart pounded in your chest as the smoke cleared, the room falling silent. You had done it, you had taken revenge on one of the people who had betrayed you.

Ghost watched you silently, his eyes locked on yours. He nodded slowly, a hint of approval in his eyes. "Well done," he said quietly. "You certainly proved your loyalty to me."

Ghost's touch was gentle yet possessive as he cupped your cheek, his eyes tracing over your face. There was a hint of something dangerous in his gaze, a dark thrill that stirred within him. He motioned for his men to leave, and as the room cleared, he leaned in close to you.

"There's a place I want to take you," he whispered, his voice low and seductive. "Somewhere less... messy."

That evening he gave me the best love he had, moaning, whimpers, hot candle wax and a lot of pain inflicting and pleasure was made

That night, Ghost unleashed a side of himself that you had never seen before. He was rough and demanding, his touch leaving deep, pleasurable marks on your skin. He moved with a sense of purpose and intensity, his eyes locked on yours as he took you to places of pleasure and pain.

"You're mine," he growled in your ear, his voice low and possessive. "And I'm going to make damn sure you never forget it."

You were caught in a web of desire and passion, blind to the fact that Ghost's love was a toxic, twisted game. He had consumed you, his cruel words and rough touch molding you into something both beautiful and broken.

But as the night wore on, a sense of foreboding settled over you. You knew deep down that this was not the happy ending you had hoped for, that being tangled up with a dangerous man like Ghost would only lead to pain and destruction.

[lostfirefly]

Buggy x Reader Masterlist

I had to reorganize my masterlist a little because Tumblr doesn't allow adding new links) Sketches, OC's stories are here :)

• Heart of Courage You and Buggy are being held hostage by pirates (based on my dream) • Make my heart a better place, give me something I can believe You're a cook on the Buggy Pirates crew. During the year you have feelings for the captain, but you don't dare to say it, but you write about your feelings in poems. One day he finds your notebook (based on my personal poem) • If you wake up in your bed, alone in the dark, I'm sorry I gotta leave you before you love me You're the owner of a bar where one evening a blue-haired pirate comes and you both play a drinking game. Just a random shitty shit :) • Please don't say you're gone forever, 'cause I can't hurt no more

You're the flower shop owner who has a long-standing relationship with Buggy. You haven't seen each other much in the last few months. He finally arrives to see you, but he's overtaken by fit of jealousy during the dinner.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

• Thank you, driver, for getting me here, you'll be an inspector, have no fear, I don't want to cause no fuss, but can I buy your Magic Bus? You and your sister are taking the bull to the farm. You board the only bus that can transport bulls, the driver of which is Buggy. Just a random shitty shit again :) • Can't find my peace and quiet, some things are better left in silence You were tormented by nightmares, you came to Buggy's bed. • Make my coffee sweet and warm, just the way you used to lie in my arms (nsfw!) You were sitting in a coffee shop for work. The barista was Buggy. • I need you here till the very end, so stay here with me Buggy had a hard day. You comb his hair and wash off his makeup. Fluffy shitty shit. • I will lay it at your feet, and I won't hold back anything, 'cause what you are is all, what you are is all of me You haven't seen Buggy for several days, he's throwing you a candlelit dinner. Fluffy fluff! • Secrets I have held in my heart are harder to hide than I thought, maybe I just wanna be yours You throw knives together with Cabaji. Buggy joins you. • If you sit down with this old clown, take that frown and break it, before the evening's gone away, I think that we could make it Your sister took you to a bar so she could meet someone. She saw Buggy, but he clearly showed interest in you. • Now hush little baby, don't you cry, everything's gonna be alright You and Buggy have a little daughter. The ship is moored, and you go to rest, leaving Buggy with the child. • Baby, baby when you're looking deep in my eyes, I know you're seeing past my make-up Buggy asks you to help him apply makeup. • They say it's your birthday, we're going to have a good time Buggy's birthday. You want to cheer him up. • But what am I gonna say, when you make me feel that way? (nsfw!) You came to visit Buggy in his office. • Storybook endings, fairy tales coming true, deep down inside we want to believe they still do Buggy tells a fairy story to children.

• Maybe You're My Enemy

You're the captain of the ship, and Buggy stole from you the map that you stole from him earlier.

Chapter 1