#twin flame part one | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

skzdarlings · 27 days

Text

the ride ; skz ; chan x reader

original ask: requested by @rosequartsz : chan with the prompt ❛ i want to fuck you so badly. ❜ like the reader is the same age as jeongin so chan kinda feels bad but at the same time he wants to corrupt the reader so bad cushsisjsis

original ask: requested by anonymous : Chan and ❛ please. make me feel good. no one else can like you. ❜ ❛ have a little trust in yourself, i know you can take it. ❜

pairing: bang chan/reader content info: friends to lovers, chan is a little older than reader, reader is not actually that innocent but pretends to be and they both get off on it lol. some not very safe driving lol keep ur eyes on the road. car sex, dirty talk, teasing, corruption play, puuuuure smut. word count: 2400 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy!

“That’s not fair,” Jeongin says. “I called dibs.”

“Too bad.” You stick your tongue out at him. “Learn to run faster, loser.”

Jeongin scowls, once more relegated to the backseat of Chan’s car. You are sitting pretty in the passenger seat for the fourth day in a row and Jeongin is playfully annoyed about it.

You and your twin brother have been racing into Chan’s car since high school. You are both at university now, but Chan still offers the occasional lift. With storm season making public transit a bigger hassle than it’s worth, Chan has been offering more rides.

Just because of the weather. Not any other reason. Of course.

You smirk, casting a side-glance into the driver’s seat. Chan is smiling at Jeongin through the rearview mirror, looking less like Channie, the boy of your teenage fantasies, and more like Bang Chan, the man of your adult dreams. He is wearing a baseball cap and leather jacket, his whole demeanour oozing an effortless masculinity, the bearing of a competent man who knows he can do anything.

And still, despite his well-earned cockiness, he has an undoubtedly shy side. When he looks at you, the tips of his ears flame an embarrassed, fiery red, and his dimpled smile is almost boyish in its sweetness.

“Right then,” he says. Then, like the endearingly cheesy goofball he is, he adds, “All aboard, ready for takeoff!”

“Jeongin,” you say, blinking innocently at your twin through the mirror. “You have your presentation notes, right? You don’t want to forget them.”

Jeongin double-checks his bag but you already know he won’t find them. You deliberately took them out and placed them on the kitchen counter.

“Damn,” he says, quickly unbuckling his seatbelt. “I thought I put them in here. Sorry, I’ll be right back.”

Jeongin practically flies out of the car and up the driveway, leaving you and Chan. It happens quickly, before Chan can even compute it. You can see the gears turning in his head, but you are faster, sighing melodramatically while gathering the hem of your skirt.

“Silly boy,” you say. “What should we do while he’s gone?” You draw your skirt up your thighs just enough to tease the skin of your upper thighs.

Chan is staring there with his mouth open, his words evaporating on his tongue. He clears his throat after a second, ripping his gaze away. He looks across the dashboard and laughs, a shy, awkward laugh.

“Your brother will be back in a second,” Chan says. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, yeah?”

He is white-knuckling the steering wheel, like all his restraint is being poured into that physical grip. Even so, it is not hard to pry his hand off the wheel. You know a stronger, more belligerent shove could not bend a determined Bang Chan, but the softest touch from your gentle hands will have him breaking in seconds.

You are slow, casual despite your racing heart, guiding his hand onto your knee. He makes a little noise that turns your whole body to pure, liquid heat. You make a similar sound, a faint whimper in the back of your throat, as you slide his hand up your thigh.

“Channie,” you say, your too-sweet, too-innocent voice part of your acting, but your breathlessness undoubtedly real.

“Don’t—” His voice breaks and he clears his throat. “Don’t say my name like that. You know—”

“What do I know, Channie?” you ask, blinking at him with wide eyes while you curl his fingers around your thigh. You bring your legs together, holding his hand between them.

He visibly swallows, throat bobbing. The redness has spread from his ears down his neck.

“We’ve talked about this, baby girl,” he says, his tone stricter, taking on that darker edge that makes your heart – and everything else – gush. “We’ve been good so far, okay?” If stolen kisses, open zippers, and groping touches count as good. “You’re my – you’re my friend. You should be like a little sister or something to me… yeah? Yeah… Yeah!” He shakes his head, pulling himself out of the distraction caused by you unzipping your jacket. He squeezes your thigh, a firm, warning grip. “Don’t make this so hard,” he says.

“What’s hard for you, Channie?” you ask, reaching into his lap and touching his thigh, then higher, finding the evidence of his words. A shiver moves across his shoulders, his breath catching as you cup your palm around the bulge in his jeans. “Is it something I can help you with?” You lick your bottom lip then smile.

“Oh,” he says. His eyes crinkle with amusement but there is a score of different emotions on his face, all of them smoldering. “You really wanna play that game, huh?”

There is no chance for an answer because Jeongin returns, hopping into the car with his notes. You and Chan separate, looking out the dashboard window. You pat your hot skin and try to slow your racing heart.

Sensing the oddly silent tension, Jeongin narrows his eyes and looks between you. Eventually, his expression sours like he smells something bad.

“Oh my god,” he says, then punches Chan in the shoulder. “Are you fucking my sister!”

“What!” Chan says, getting redder by the second. “Jeongin, how could— I wouldn’t— I don’t—”

“What, you don’t fuck?” Jeongin asks, then laughs until he is wheezing. “You can do better, man.”

“Jeongin, shut up!” You reach back to smack at him, rubbing your hand all over his stupid face and messing up his hair while he wails in protest.

“All right, all right!” Chan says, breaking you up. “Let’s just… let’s just go, okay? Okay.”

“Yes, daddy,” you say, mostly out of spite.

Chan squeaks.

Jeongin pretends to gag then slumps against his window.

“I’m gonna need to start taking the bus,” he says, morose.

Fortunately, thanks to the impromptu revelation of your shenanigans, it does not take much convincing for Jeongin to find another ride home. When Chan pulls into the campus parking lot to pick you up, you approach his vehicle with a grin and a wink.

You slide into the passenger seat, smoothing down your skirt while he sighs. It sounds more amused than frustrated.

“Where’s your brother?” he asks.

You shrug with theatrical exaggeration.

“Right,” Chan says, starting the car. “Got it.”

He puts a hand on your headrest to leverage himself, looking out the rear window as he reverses the car. That proximity alone gets you hot, the temptation to grab him already strong. You play a patient game, as always, stealing glances and suggestive smiles while he drives.

Halfway home, you put a hand on his knee. At first your touch is innocent, tracing slow circles on the denim, then you get a little more brazen, fingertips brushing up his thigh.

“Baby,” he says in that warning voice, eyes on the road. Holding the wheel with one hand, he uses the other to stop your wandering ascent.

“Yes?” you ask with all that faux-innocence. Rather than fight his touch, you guide his hand to your lap, placing it on your knee.

Unlike this morning, he does not play nice. You make a startled, high-pitched sound when he immediately dives under your skirt, his rough palm pressing down where you are already aching. Your thighs slam shut out of instinct but his hand is where it wants to be, his fingers curled around your pussy in a proprietary touch.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice playfully mean. He grinds the heel of his palm against your throbbing clit. He never takes his eyes off the road. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you say, though you cannot help but rock yourself against his hand.

“Mmm,” he says, patting your pussy then stroking your thigh, guiding your legs open again. “We’ll see about that.”

You keep your eyes ahead too, pretending not to notice when he glances at you. Then you gasp because he reaches out and tugs the zipper on your hoodie. You instinctively clutch it, wearing nothing but a bra underneath, having taken off your other layers to surprise him. He is the one surprising you, a secret sexy menace under all that shy sweetness. He unzips the hoodie halfway then reaches past the material to squeeze a handful. Your body practically sings under his touch.

“Channie,” you say, breathless again.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he says. “Channie’s gonna take care of you, yeah? Always.”

“Take care of me how?” Your question toys with that false innocence, the little game that gets you both hot, but there is genuine curiosity there too. This game has been escalating slowly over time. You want more and you are starting to get desperate.

Chan looks at you. His gaze moves over your mouth then your body, your skirt rucked up and breasts practically spilling out of your hoodie. He swears, looking back at the road with that red blush on his ears again.

“Fuck,” he says. “I want to fuck you so badly. You have no idea.”

His words have a raw, honest edge. He swallows, hard. You feel like one tightly coiled ball of tension, ready to snap apart.

“Please,” you say in that breathy voice. “Make me feel good. No one else can like you.”

You do not make it all the way home. There is a nearby lookout point at the park, a shrouded parking area that has undoubtedly seen its fair share of hook-ups. Chan parks there and you dive at each other like randy teenagers. You climb into his lap, bumping everything on the console on your way, the honking the horn with your backside for good measure. It makes you both giggle.

Then your laughter is swallowed by hot, desperate, open-mouthed kisses.

“Mmm,” you hum against his lips. You push his hat off his head and sink your fingers in his curly hair. “Channie, please,” you say.

He cups the back of your neck, holding your head where he wants it so he can kiss you thoroughly. His ravishing touch leaves you shaking with need, rocking against him to no relief.

“Poor baby,” he says with a little laugh, squeezing your neck then drawing his hand down the curve of your chest. He unzips the rest of your hoodie. His mouth follows the same path as his hands, down your chest and back up again.

He is working you up, deftly and swiftly, using just a few well-placed throat kisses, a few flicks of his fingertips across the sensitive peaks of your breasts. He seems so composed under you, other than the flush to his complexion, the heat to his skin that has him shedding his leather jacket. You feel completely undone, half-naked and writhing in his lap. Your hands tangle together, fumbling around his belt.

“Let me,” he says. He gets his belt open and his fly undone, then his hands are on you. He doesn’t just tug your panties to the side but rips them apart, snapping the seams like they’re nothing. Then those strong fingers are inside you, finding just how wet and ready you are for him. He makes a low, guttural sound, thumping his head against the headrest. “Fuck, baby girl,” he says. “You know what you do to me?” he asks.

“I dunno, Channie.” You pout and bat your eyelashes. “You better show me.”

He laughs. He holds your hips and moves you, positions you where he wants you. You are pressed so close together, chest-to-chest, so you cannot see when he finally enters you. But you feel it, hot and hard and filling you, stretching you, almost painful but burning so good. You slap a hand to the roof of the car, eyes closing as you moan.

“S-so much,” you say, because it feels like you have been sinking forever and he is still not all the way inside.

“Yeah, I know, baby,” he says. His thumb is expertly circling your clit while your whole body seems to soften, changing to fit him, like you were made for this moment. “That’s it,” he says. “Have a little trust in yourself. I know you can take it.”

His thrusts are small, his hands guiding your hips over him, grinding him deep inside you. Then you are clutching his shoulders, moaning into his neck as he fucks you slowly and steadily. It is everything you needed and not enough, only spurring more desire. You know you will need him again, the way he needs you. Just the way he says your name as he holds you, as he fucks you, as he takes you apart and puts you together again. It feels like that when you come, when he fucks you through it, saying your name and praising you.

“Good girl,” he says, barely above a breath. “That’s it, baby. Just like that.”

When he gets close, he pushes the seat back. You get on your knees between his legs and take him in your mouth. He comes with a low groan and another breathless slur of your name. Then you are back in his lap and his hands are everywhere, clutching you possessively to his chest. You are both breathing hard, riding the slow come-down of your frantic desperation.

“Fuck,” he eventually says. He seems shy again, giggling as he looks at you with a blush on his face. “We, uh, we just did that, in the car, uh wow, yeah, I, uh—”

“Channie,” you say with a laugh of your own, grabbing his face and kissing him. He smiles into the kiss, returning it with the same tender softness.

You kiss for a long time, ignoring the world around you. Eventually you have to crawl back into your seat and mostly redress yourselves, still smiling and giggling at each other the whole time. Your phone was buzzing in your bag so you finally check it, rolling your eyes at the message there.

You show it to Chan who laughs, blushing again, but nods.

“Right,” he says, “We should probably go get him.”

You laugh too, sending an emoji with its tongue sticking out in response to Jeongin’s message that reads: My ride fell through. When you are done not-fucking each other, can you come back and get me? Thanks. Sluts.

#bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #chan x reader #chan x you #bang chan smut #chan smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz x you #valentinesdaystories

2K notes · View notes

ki-yomii · 3 months

Text

like i do | jjk

➥ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader

➥ word count | 3.2k

➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, pet names, mild praise kink, squirting, standing missionary, finger fucking, thigh riding, established relationship, angst w/ a happy ending, possessive!jk, jealous!jk, mentions of infidelity, trust issues

➥ summary | request - Jk being a jealous husband, angst and smuttttt 🥹💘

➥ notes | for lovely anon. hope you enjoy 💚 un-edited, i'll come back and fix any mistakes later. also poor jimin. i love him but i always seem to make him suffer lol.

💚 masterlist | inbox | AO3 💚

Eavesdropping.

Whether it was a stray conversation in a shop, or lurking around corners to see what others really thought of you, everyone’s done it at some point.

Now, it’s a habit Jungkook tries not to encourage - much preferring upfront interactions and direct conversations - but that isn’t to say he’s never eavesdropped before.

But the problem with listening in on conversations you’re not supposed to be is you run the risk of hearing something you wish you didn’t.

And while it wasn’t intentional by any means - he respects you too much to spy, even if the urge is there - he learns this lesson the hard way.

The first time it happens, he’s in the kitchen refilling his cup of iced coffee. There’s a squeal of surprise followed by a lighthearted giggle, the sound of shuffling limbs and a low grunt.

Everything in him freezes at the sound of your delight, gut churning.

He always works so damn hard to pull the laughter from the depths of your throat. And it stings that Jimin - his friend, his brother’s attempts are effortless.

It’s something so simple, and yet the effect it’s having on him is undeniable as Jungkook white-knuckles the handle of his mug and grits his teeth.

His jaw nearly cracks in two when he hears the softly murmured greeting, “It’s good to see you, baby.”

And Jungkook knows, okay.

He knows there’s nothing romantic between the two of you.

If anything, you’re too alike. Twin flames of the platonic variety. Not only would it never work out, but you both feel nothing but familial towards one another.

For fuck’s sake, Jimin was there when Jungkook proposed. Was the one to encourage it, in fact. Has been nothing but supportive about your relationship even when others disagreed.

However, knowing something doesn’t dampen the spark of jealousy.

Nor does it soothe the sharp flash of hurt threatening to steal the breath from his lungs.

Jimin has always been affectionate with you, and he’s always a touch too flirtatious. It’s a part of who he is, and it’s one Jungkook would never ask him to dim. Jimin spent far too long hiding, pretending, stifling himself for other’s comfort.

And Jungkook loves him as he is, encourages him to be his beautiful, authentic self no matter what. Expect maybe when it comes to his wife… for reasons he’s unwilling to examine.

All schoolyard flirtations aside, what bothers Jungkook most are the pet names. He can put aside his petty jealousy because he knows its unfounded.

What’s harder is dismissing the use of that little four-letter word: baby.

It’s supposed to be his way of telling you how much he loves you. Special, intimate. A stand-in for the four-word phrase he whispers into the silk of your skin, tattoos into your heart with his lips.

The realization he’s sharing a part of you he thought all his own sits bitter on the back of his tongue, an acid burn eating through his throat until he can’t find the words.

When you respond in kind with a soft, tender call a piece of him shrivels.

Standing in the kitchen adrift and lovelorn, Jungkook’s left with an empty longing he can’t name and no where to place it.

You weren’t together for more than six months before he proposed, knowing you were the one for him by the second date.

Maybe he moved too fast, was too receptive?

Growing up, he’d always been eager to move onto the next big thing, ready to jump head first. Some said that would come back to bite him in the ass. Was this the day?

Perhaps you regret saying yes so soon. Jungkook knows he’s not like other people. They need time to settle into their feelings like a house settling old wooden bones.

The last thing he wants is to make you feel trapped, suffocated under the weight of all his clingy, needy problems.

So he smothers the discomfort and walks into the living room. He shoots you a smile and inclines his head towards Jimin.

Thoroughly ignores the pulse of pain when he sees how cozy the two of you look cuddled up on the couch, legs tangled together with Bam at your feet.

That should be me.

You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

He can’t lose you.

It’s there he silently vows to be less intense, less attached. Does his best to keep his hands to himself even though he wants to reach across the space between your bodies, and tug you into the cradle of his chest.

Bam picks his head up, cocking his ear to the side when Jungkook winces as Jimin reaches out to tug a lock of your hair, smirking around another purred baby.

Thankfully no one else but the dog notices his moment of weakness or the tension cutting through his shoulders.

Staring at his reflection, Jungkook tucks a lock of hair behind his ear and fiddles with his tie. The three-piece fits like a glove yet he’s never felt more uncomfortable.

He longs for soft cotton and baggy loungewear but tonight is important.

It’s your first year anniversary.

He’s had this night planned out months in advance; pulled all the strings needed to secure a reservation at one of the best five-stars in Gangnam.

You’ve been looking forward to it all week, and your excitement is infectious.

Only Jungkook’s mood sours as soon as he turns the corner to find you on the couch with company, dolled up and radiant. Jimin’s beside you, one leg crossed over the other and swirling a half-empty wine glass.

He says something too low for Jungkook to hear.

“Jimin!” You titter behind your hand, the flash of the jewels on your nails catching the light. “Sto-op! You nasty little freak.”

“What’re you doing here?”

Jungkook doesn’t mean to snap but the inner turmoil spills over before he can shove it down.

Your eyes lose some of their softness, the happiness fizzling from your expression like champagne bubbles. Mouth pinching in at the corners, you narrow your eyes.

A lump grows in his throat.

“What’s got you so pissy, Kook?” you ask.

Jimin clears his throat, averting his gaze to the side as he mindlessly plays with the stem of the glass.

The frosty look Jungkook shoots him withers under your pointed glare. Shoulders sagging, he runs his fingers through his hair, unable to care about how much he’s fucking up the style.

“Sorry Jimin, I… ahem. Anyway, are you gonna be ready to go soon?”

“Mhm, just let me finish up here,” you trail off, motioning to the last few sips of your own wine. “We’ve still got some time before we have to leave anyway.”

Before Jungkook can respond, Jimin cuts in while twining an arm over your bare shoulders, cheek pressed sweetly to yours, “You can’t rush perfection, Kookie. Isn’t that right, pretty baby?”

It’s no surprise your anniversary ends in disaster; a fight so vicious it has you fleeing with an overnight bag, refusing to look at Jungkook let alone speak to him no matter how much he begs you to stay.

Leaving him alone in an apartment ringing with your absence, terrified this is the beginning of the end and thoroughly convinced he’s the worst fucking husband ever.

It’s been several days of radio silence.

No amount of texting or calling gets you to answer. And it’s starting to get to him, going out of his mind with worry, with guilt. If only he hadn’t said this, that, and the other.

If only you’d stayed.

Now, everywhere he turns, Jungkook’s forced to face the jealousy growning like a weed in his heart. And every day it gets worse; a stone crushing his lungs, a bottomless pit curdling his stomach.

He doesn’t know where you are exactly, but his suspicions are proven correct when he nearly busts down the door to Jimin’s apartment only to have you invite him inside, stony-faced and silent.

The quiet doesn’t last, broken by the awkward clearing of his throat as he avoids your stare.

“What are we even doing?” he asks.

Your eyebrows shoot towards your hairline.

There are bags under your eyes and heavy lines around your mouth. You look like you haven’t slept well. Jungkook’s gut clenches, bile bubbling up the back of his throat.

It’s all my fault.

“I’m not sure what you mean, Kook.”

“Please.” He refuses to acknowledge the plea for what it is. “I can’t - I can’t do this anymore.” His voice breaks, cracks in two, tears stopping up his tongue. “I need to know.”

Your eyes flash with confusion. “Baby?” You step closer, hand outstretched and shoulders relaxing. “What are you talking about?”

His intentions are pure, honest.

But months of simmering anger, of doubting everything about himself (again), of resenting the fact he resents you, resents Jimin at all, bubbles to the surface.

He’s not proud of it, but Jungkook explodes; a match set to gunpowder.

“I’m talking about you and Jimin!”

“Me,” you ask, blinking owlishly, “-- and Jimin?”

Jungkook smiles, sharp and unpleasant. Bitter and disappointed. Grief makes him mean, nasty. “Yeah, you and Jimin. Do you think I’m stupid - were you just gonna keep fucking around behind my back?”

“Woah, pump the breaks! What the hell are--”

“Don’t even try to deny it.”

His eyes glint like shards of black ice, cool and assessing as he stares at you. Numb to the concern in your gaze, the purse of your lips. He’s slipping - he knows he’s slipping. Can feel the grief stricken rage pressing in at the corners of his mind.

The last thing he wants to do is hurt you, and yet he’s helpless to stop the words pouring from his mouth. “Did you like watching me make a fool of myself?”

You sneer, arms crossed over your chest so hard it looks like it hurts, “You’re doing that all on your own, Jungkook. I think you need to leave.”

“No, no, come on. I want to know. Why did you marry me if you don’t even want me, huh?”

Stalking closer, Jungkook corners you against the counter.

The smooth glide of his body is reminiscent of a large jungle cat, purely predatory. The uncomfortable thrill of it reflects through your gaze, the clench of your thighs.

Dark satisfaction curls low in his belly.

He asks, “Did he fuck you better, make you scream his name?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about but you’re being a fucking pig,” you say, shoving his shoulder towards the door. “Now I really think it’s time for you to leave. Come back when you’re not being stupid.”

Strong fingers clamp down around your wrist, and Jungkook tugs you into his chest. His free arm curls around your waist, pinning you to his front. The heat of your body can’t drive away the sudden cold washing over him.

“Let go-”

“No.” He watches as any retort dies on your tongue, your eyes meeting his head on for the first time. Whatever you see hooks in, refusing to let go. “I’m not letting you go.”

Shivering, you try to tug your arm free, “Jungkook, please. You’re starting to scare me.”

In lieu of a response, Jungkook dips his head, and inhales the scent of your hair. Dragging his nose down the length of your neck as the familiar perfume floods his lungs. Soothes the prowling beast caged in his chest.

A rumble of satisfaction vibrates through him into you, your nipples stiffening against him.

Jungkook sighs, “You always smell so good, baby.”

The tension threaded through your frame releases, your edges softening until you rest against him fully. Shivers race down his spine when your breath tickles his ear.

You call to him softly.

He hums, nuzzling into the side of your head, “Mhm?”

“Can you let me go now? Promise I won’t go anywhere.”

Jungkook pulls back to look at you for several long seconds. Unlatching his fingers, he watches as you flex your wrist. Then reaches up to tenderly curl the digits around your throat, transfixed by the sight.

A hook of arousal sinks into his stomach.

Yanks hard when you gasp at the push of his thick thigh against your pussy, your whine when he flexes the muscle. With a soft cry, you sag into his body while your hands fly up to plant themselves on his biceps.

“K-Kook!”

“Mm, that’s it.”

The bubble of emotions boiling under the surface of his skin is at odds with the satisfaction coiling in his belly, the interested twitch of his cock.

Jungkook rolls his thigh and works you along the length of it. The heat of you burns through the cotton of his lounge pants, so warm and soft and wet.

"Don't--" your protest trails off, smothered by your teeth as your eyes flutter in pleasure. "Hn!"

Shit, he wants to bury himself so deep inside you’ll never forget the stretch. Ruin you so good with his cock you won’t dream of anyone else ever again. He’d make you his and his alone.

Fingers tightening around your neck, Jungkook murmurs, “Let me hear you, baby.”

Unsuccessfully trying to ignore how good the friction is, you shake your head in denial. But there’s no hiding how turned on you’re getting, panties sticky and thighs clamping around his.

You’re absolutely soaked, evidenced by the growing dark patch on his leg as he grinds you into a sloppy mess.

“W-We can’t, Jimin’s h-home.”

Mentioning the other man is a mistake, and you know that.

Jungkook sees the realization light up in your eyes seconds after he tenses, rutting up against you harshly. The bulge of his cock digs into the dip of your hip, throbbing in time with the labored heaves of his chest.

His kneecap catches, the sharp ridge smashing into your swollen clit. Your mouth drops open, and Jungkook slaps a hand over your face before the wail escapes.

He knows he’s being rough, but the tears in your eyes soothe some of the hurt. And honestly, he can’t bring himself to care overmuch, especially when your hips jerk against his.

“Better be quiet. We don’t want Jimin to hear us,” Jungkook snarls, “after all, what would he think if he saw how bad you’re gagging for your husband’s dick?”

Your indignant response is cut off by another muffled whine, his teeth sinking into the corner of your jaw.

A weak spot of yours - Jungkook abuses it to his advantage. Swiping his tongue through the layer of sweat that clings to your skin, the salt bursting across his tongue.

He groans.

“I don’t give a fuck what you or Jimin think.” His breath puffs warm and moist over your ear, voice whiskey rough when Jungkook says, “You married me. You’re mine, baby, and I don’t share.”

Relocating, his hand releases your throat and finds your hips. He slips under the mid-thigh hem of your oversized nightshirt, and snaps the waistband of your panties with a firm tug.

Pulling the fabric free from between your legs, he tucks the ruined fabric into his back pocket as a souvenir.

“K-Kook,” you say, voice warbling.

He hums, eyes glittering dangerously as his fingers brush over the top of your slit. Your clit jumps beneath the pad of his finger, swollen and throbbing.

When you hiss low between your teeth, he smirks, and bullies the little nub with rough circles until your hips shift from side to side.

“Ah, shit, baby. Can you hear how sloppy your pussy is?”

Jungkook dips his fingers between your folds, playing with your gummy walls as he gathers your slick, teasing the rim of your entrance. The filthy squelches echo out into the otherwise silent apartment.

He preens, chest puffing up with pride, and says, “He can’t make you feel the way I do. Can he?”

Without warning, he slides two fingers deep inside to the third knuckle. Chuckles when you burrow your face into his shoulder, your nails dragging raised lines of heat down his arms as your walls give, fluttering around his thick digits as you adjust to the stretch.

“Mm, you always take me so well, baby.”

You clench at the praise, and Jungkook pumps his fingers in reward, curling up to massage at the spongy patch of your g-spot. You whine, head tossed back and thighs shaking around his hand.

Pain shoots through the base of Jungkook’s spine, and biting back a curse, he reaches down to adjust his cock from where its trapped against you, swollen and leaking.

“Yeah, you’re such a good girl.”

“Please,” you whine before mumbling something else.

Jungkook’s not sure what it is, but figures it’s not all that important when your eyes roll back into your head and your hips twitch.

You start to bear down on his fingers, walls tensing and releasing.

“Gonna cum?” Jungkook nips at your bottom lip, panting into your mouth and sharing breath as his eyes bore into yours. “Fuck! Do it. Wanna feel you cum all over my hand.”

God, you look so good like this; eyes teary and brows crinkled, sweat-slick and mouth slack. A sight he never wants to be without. His sweet girl, his baby, his wife.

“Yeah, that’s it.” His fingers curl and pulse, pet and stretch. “Now open those pretty eyes.”

A hand curls around your jaw, tugs at your chin.

“Look at me,” Jungkook breathes.

Please.

He watches, greedy, as your lashes flutter, the lids weighted down by pleasure. Eventually, you manage to crack them open, and he ruts forward in response. His groan vibrates his lips as they smash into yours in a violent kiss.

You pull away with a gasp, slick dripping down your shaky knees. “I can’t - hnggg - fuck, Kook!”

“Tell me who you belong to.”

He’s unforgiving in his demands, a cold fire burning in the depths of his eyes. His cock throbs, his hips trembling with restraint as he stops himself from rutting to completion against you.

His heart hammers against his ribs, and his stomach swoops.

The answer will either make or break him.

Anticipation floods the room with tension; hovering in the air like a word about to be spoken.

“Tell me.”

“I -- you, Kook, I’ve always belonged to you,” you say, clenching down around him. “Please.”

Capturing you with his gaze, Jungkook hooks a thumb into the corner of your mouth. All the hurt, all the doubts, all the rage bleed out of him like water tossed over the embers of a campfire.

Leaving behind the single-minded desire to give you what you want. What you deserve. Because you’re his and the only thing he wants to do is take care of you.

Love you like you deserve to be.

Like only he knows how to.

The taste of your skin is sharp and bright when his tongue flicks against yours, and he hisses into the plush of your mouth, “Cum.”

Keening, your pussy throbs once, twice. Your belly contracts. And then you’re gushing wetly, a warm flood of slick soaking the palm of Jungkook’s hand, dripping down to puddle on the kitchen tile. Your walls ripple, muscles spasming as you shake apart in his arms.

Jungkook holds you through it, soothing the aftershocks as you slump into him - a marionette with its strings cut. You’re cotton soft, cloudy. Head lolling on his shoulder when you look up at his profile with hazy eyes.

“Show off,” you slur when you catch the sight of his satisfied smirk, the puff of his chest as he stares at something behind you. “Can’t believe you made me cum all over Jimin’s kitchen floor.”

The sound of a choked-off, slightly hysterical laugh comes from the entryway, “Oh, I can. Just glad to see you guys finally made up. Now I’m gonna go wash my eyes with bleach.”

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #bts fic #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook #jungkook imagine

2K notes · View notes

leoascendente · 6 months

Text

PAC/ Who is your FS and your relationship dynamic 💖

Hi my loves and welcome to this new pac!💕 Today we'll check details about your FS and how your relationship will be when you are finally together. My FS pacs and personal readings are focused in the love of your life, soulmates and twin flame connections, here you'll get glimpses of the person you are going to spend the rest of your life with, this is part of what I do in private Fs readings.

Take a deep breath before choosing your pile, keep what resonates with you and leave what doesn't. You can choose more than one pile if you feel to.

Decks I used: green witch oracle, spirit animal oracle, romance angels oracle, astrodices and my homemade charms

For personal readings click here

All pics are from pinterest, credits to their owners

Pile 1/ Pile 2

Pile 3/ Pile 4

Pile 1:

~ Details about them:

(Cards: bobcat, swan, eagle, grasshoper/ chili, sweet corn, marjoram)

❤️‍🔥 This person has a magnetic aura, doberman type of beauty in males and siren type in females, they might look a little intimidating on the outside. They are extremely sexy and magnetic without trying, your Fs surely have a big amount of admirers because of their looks, they are also extremely charismatic what makes people feel naturally drawn to them.

❤️‍🔥 They have a deep emotional world, they can get lost in their own feelings and can be guarded with others, have a sharp intuition too. They keep a lot to themselves, I have to warn you that they have a tough shell to avoid pain, they have seen and experienced a lot of ugly things in their past and it takes time for them to open up in emotional terms.

❤️‍🔥 They are into the mysterious aspect of life, they are surely into conspiracy theories or occultism. Somehow they are connected to higher powers, even if they are not aware of this they are very spiritually guided and protected, I'd take it as a sign that your Fs has a good and pure heart regardless of their tough exterior.

❤️‍🔥 They are into adrenaline and risky or extreme activities, maybe they have hobbies that are usually seen as dangerous, I'm seeing motorbikes and martial arts especially. They are into high performance sports as an usual hobby, their physical structure is fit and strong due to all the physical activity they make on a daily basis.

❤️‍🔥 Your Fs is courageous, they don't mind getting in trouble to defend what they believe it's right, they are not scared of confrontation. I feel they have an strong sense of justice, they might get into trouble to defend people that are being treated badly. Surely your FS has an strong temper, very masculine energy for what I'm sensing.

❤️‍🔥 Powerful, confident and protective of their close ones, very dark sense of humor and love for extreme emotions. They have an strong sexual energy too, expect them to be very active and spontaneous in this aspect.

❤️‍🔥 The have a mix of fire and water energies, this is a very intense mix of energies for someone to have, definitely not for the weak. I'm getting Aries, Leo and Scorpio energy from your Fs.

❤️‍🔥 They remind me of Geralt de Rivia or Kaz Brekker from 6 of Crows, they have this natural charm mixed with the mysterious look on the outside. Your Fs might have tattoos too, I see an snake or dragon tattoo on the back or maybe on one arm.

❤️‍🔥 Your Fs feels happy and content with their life right now, their rutine and daily habits are aligned with their wellbeing and they feel satisfied with the direction of their current life. They are working into being more aligned with the thing that makes them feel good, they are releasing toxicity from their life, either it be people, habits, enviroments or patterns.

❤️‍🔥 They are an animal lover, a cat person I'm getting, they are a sweetheart on the inside but they prefer to keep this tender face very secretive. They are extremely loyal but their bad trait is being possesive, if that's not something negative to you just know that your Fs will he obsessed with only you.

~ Dynamic of the relationship:

(Cards: stay optimistic about your love life, let your friends help you, healing family issues/ Astrodices: aquarius, jupiter, 11th house/ Charms: diamond, swallow, star, trisquelion)

I'm getting that you won't like their attitude the first time you meet them, the card of pay attention to the red flags tried to drop a few times before getting the card of healing family issues, so it won't be love at first sight even though they will look very attractive, I'm hearing a phrase I heard to a friend, it says: they are not that handsome to compensate being that much of an asshole 😅. I get with this that you'll be mirroring eachother at first, you will reject them but you both will feel drawn to eachother like you have a magnet pulling you both, if your love story was a book, it would be booktok's favorite, it gives me enemies to lovers vibe lol. The relationship will be filled by passion and fun, they will be the new in your group of friends or you'll be the new in theirs, however it is there are more people involved here but in a good way, it could be that a common friend that introduce eachother too. Ngl, this person will trigger you and awake some emotional issues you haven't solved at the beginning but this will happen to them as well, it wil take patience and the release of control from both of you, let the people you trust give you a helping hand when you need it, you have good people around to rely on or at least you will have them by the moment you meet your Fs. You will feel very attracted to eachother but at the same time is like you two get both on your nerves, I see your FS will love to tease you and see how you respond them, if you are sharp and sassy when someone teases you, your FS will love your comebacks to their comments, it is like you challenge them and they love it, they'll love your charisma too. I honestly see here a lot of personal growth, you'll both will learn a lot about yourselves and the other and this will help you both overcome limitating beliefs or patterns that were holding you back in relationships but also in other areas of your lives.

This relationship might have something unconventional, maybe your dynamic or the way you approach it, it can be a lot of different options for different people but this feels like not following the traditional standards of a relationship, you both will agree in this. You both have a very supportive enviroment, friendships are very present here so I must congrat you not only for finding your divine counterpart but also for having such nice and loving friends too, I'm getting that you are destined to find your soul tribe. There's marriage here, or at least there is a serious commitment, maybe your wedding/commitment is more spiritual than religious but I see some kind of private celebration. For some I'm hearing that you can meet through social media, being very active on this to communicate or maybe your soul mission together involves social media to share something with others. I'm watching two people doing facetime at night to talk about how their day was, ngl maybe this starts as a long distance relationship, maybe your FS has a different cultural background or is from a foreign country, you both might need some time to adapt and understand eachother's perspective of life but after that everything will flow smoothly.

Your Fs is your soulmate, you have met in past lives and you have a divine purpose together in this one, this might be the reason why at first you'll trigger and challenge eachother, to grow in a soul level that align both of you with your soul mission. This relationship is fiery and passionate, you'll encourage eachother to become your best versions and manifest all your dreams, you will love to see the other shine and succeed. Your relationship will be very protected by both of your ancestors and spirit teams, your connection feels spiritual and ethereal like your souls recognize eachother before your mind is able to process it. This totally gives me power couple vibes, I also see some level of fame or public recognition in your relationship in the positive way, like you'll inspire others somehow. I'm seeing angel numbers 444, 1818, a trisquelion, a full moon and a bald eagle, take them as signs when they present to you in any way or form.

Pile 2:

~ Details about them:

(Cards: buffalo, dog, skunk, antelope/ rosemary, geranium, strawberry, lemon)

🍀 Your Fs doesn't have an inch of malice in their body, they are a sweetheart in all their essence, they are romantic, protective and caring. They have this golden light surrounding them that gives me such a warm feeling, like being in a safe and comfortable place around their energy. Btw, they are very attractive

🍀 If pile 1 was a doberman, your Fs is totally a golden retriever, they are lovely to extremes, they are very loved by the people that knows them, they are adorable, the perfect description of a sweetheart, nobody has nothing bad to say against yor Fs. They are highly compassionate with everyone, their beloved ones rely a lot on your Fs when they need advice or help with anything.

🍀 They are an extrovert, they surely love to spend time outside and have a good time with their friends, your FS really gives me fire sign energy. They are a natural lucky person, fortune makes their way into your Fs' life easily and it's mostly because of their optimistic view of life that they attract so much positivity. They believe in karma, destiny and soulmates.

🍀 They are goofy and funny, the one that makes everyone laugh without trying. It feels like is almost impossible to have bad feelings torward your FS because they gain everybody's hearts with their lighthearted personality, everyone has good words to describe your Fs, mostly their closest people that know them in deeper levels.

🍀 They can be a little naive when it comes to other people's intentions, they have this belief that if they treat everyone kindly everyone will be kind to them, they surely have been through some dissapointments due to this trait but they don't seem to mind it. I like their mindset of not letting the evilness of the world mess with their empathy and good heart, they have an strong sense of honor.

🍀 They are hopeful, optimistic and loyal, they are the first to offer a helping hand when anybody is in need. They value loyalty a lot, they might have an inner wound related to betrayals. They are very family oriented, like they want to settle down soon and find the person they want to build a life with, they might be more traditional in terms of relationships.

🍀 If Eddie Munson and Steve Rogers personalities could combine they would materialize as your FS, your FS is very reliable and trustworthy, they love to help others in everything they can and more. I would suggest you to ask them for help even when you don't really need it, it just feels great to them to be helpful and will feel very grateful if you feel you can count on them.

🍀 Damn your Fs is adorable, I think i'm gonna choose this pile too 😂. Their feelings are pure and filled with love, they are kinda of a secret romantic, they might not show it but they love to surprise with kind gestures to their beloved ones. They'll like to embody the gentlemen attitude with you, they'll pamper you with so much love and attention, like they go walking and sees a flower and pick it for you, or the kind that sends you songs or quotes that remind them of you.

🍀 They are learning to set healthy boundaries, I see they are currently in a process of healing where they are cleansing their energies, I feel they are going through an spiritual intervention but they probably are not aware of the divine precense. They might be through a period of purge and they are leaving behind people that were harming them, their bad trait is to be a little of a people pleaser but they are working on it, they just don't want to harm anybody.

🍀 Your Fs is very into physical touch but their main love language is acts of service, they enjoy making other people's lifes easier. They are into pda too, their body language may seem overprotective sometimes, they are the kind of people that would do anything for their person and somehow their thoughts reflect on their body language. Take as signs when you see sequences with number 2, shooting stars, owls or white cats.

~ Dynamic of the relationship:

(Cards: true love, religious factors, retreat, wedding/ Astrodices: libra, neptune, 6th house/ Charms: rose quartz, bouquet, spike, white heart)

I'm getting that you already know who your FS is regardless if you had anything romantic with them in the past or not, they have appeared in your life before but the circumstances weren't the right ones to begin something romantic. Whenever you have coincided, one of you had their energies really unbalanced and the other part was having a deep healing, it was the correct person on the wrong time. You have barely interacted with them, for some of you, I even doubt you have noticed them if you have crossed paths before and this might be some kind of spiritual protection for you, to not crave too much for them and to not distract you from the process you were in. For others on this pile I'm getting that you might be their crush and you don't know it, or maybe they are your crush but you have barely had contact with them and you take it as delulu, however it is the energy around you two feels familiar. You'll both will feel very comfortable with eachother from the first moment you start interacting, this will be your sign to know that you are meant to be together, everything will feel natural and cozy around them, like you can lay and rest after a long run. If there has been any kind of distance or separation, when they are back into your life they will enter it with all the intentions to offer you a serious commitment and telling you clearly that they want a relationship with you, you got the card of wedding so you both surely will get married at some point too that I feel it will be soon after you start dating, I'd say a time lapse of a year after you start your relationship

Your FS is your soulmate, your relationship was meant to happen so there will not be anybody else after you meet them, this is the person you are going to marry and live a happy life together. I'm getting that this will be a very healthy and balanced relationship, you'll be very respectful and compassionate about the other's feelings, this gives me the vibe of thelepatic communication for many of you, especially the ones on this pile who are already in tune with their spiritual nature. There's this energy of healing surrounding your relationship, for both of you your relationship will involve soul healing from past pain and closing karmic cicles, there's no fear here of being misunderstood or judged, it is all understanding and empathy.

Ngl, the charms talk about some opponents to your relationship and the feeling I'm getting is because someone is jealous of the harmony you and your FS share, there's someone who operates through a negative perspective that won't like to see you two happy, for some of you might be your ex or your Fs' ex, for some I see your Fs' ex is the toxic person they are dettaching from. The spike talks about interferences but not something to be worried about, it is just a warning to prevent any bad energy to mess with your relationship, I'd suggest you to keep it private until you decide to formalize, this will help keep bad energies away. Anyway, the rest of the charms are all about love, tbh I think you got all the love charms I got lol, so romance, passion and affection are surely present through all your relationship. This person will want long term commitment and they will make this very clear, I also see they won't have eyes for anybody else but you, you are the love of eachother's life. The overall dynamic of your relationship is give and receive, both of you have generous and kind hearts and your relationship will be a safe place for you two to share all the love you both have in your hearts, you'll take very good care of eachother and I'm very happy for you. If you are open to have children they will become a source of pure happiness and pride for your Fs and you.

Pile 3:

~ Details about them:

(Cards: dolphin, electric eel, nightingale, bear/ tomato, orange, onion, cucumber)

🪐 They give me very aquarius energy, they are a visionary who likes to think outside of the box and dream big, they have high expectations for their future too. This person likes to keep always learning and progressing in life, not the kind who gives up easilly, they give me the vibe of working smart and not that hard because they have this intellectual energy around them

🪐 Their mind is mesmerizing, they are the kind of person you could hear talking for hours and you'd never get tired of them. There's something about their voice or how they express themselves that is hypnotizing for others, they might be air dominant in their natal chart because they have a gift for communication.

🪐 This is my pile of friends to lovers dynamic and I feel it's mostly because your Fs wants to be friendly with you in your first interactions, they'll like you for a relationship from the very first moment but they'll want to make things right for you and give the proper steps without rushing the outcome.

🪐 Your FS is a social and outgoing person, they are very adaptable and versatile when it comes to people but at the same time they know how to keep loyal to themselves. They have a bright and vibrant personality, they are also very funny.

🪐 They are very skillful, I'm getting that they are a lot into technologies and for some, they are really a genius on sciences or maths. I'm also getting that they are into video games or something like that, I see a person with different types of screens in front of them so it gives me the vibe of videogames (but Idk shit about technology o take it as it resonates)

🪐 They are very open minded, they don't like to judge someone by their appearance, they are able to see further than the surface of people. They don't like to take things for granted so this makes them want to make efforts to keep getting better, some people see a beautiful flower and pick it up, your Fs is the kind that take care of the plant through the whole year and waits for more flowers to bloom on the spring

🪐 Your Fs is very funny, they maybe are not the conventional type of beauty but they really cute, like Stiles Stilinski. They have a natural charm that goes beyond physical attractiveness and I feel that growing up being the ugly duck made them cultivate other attractive skills that they have mastered.

🪐 They are straight forward with their opinions, they feel very confident on their values and morals so they don't mind to speak their truth out loud. They are very mental, an overthinker surely, they are not the most emotional person in the world and their love language is not words of affirmation but it is related to communication.

🪐They are very loving and protective with the people they really care for, they got cards that makes me feel that when they love, they do it with all their heart and at all cost, there's no middle terms for your Fs, it's all or nothing. Take as signs when you see 1212, 333, nightingales, angelic symbology and red roses.

~ Dynamic of the relationship:

(Cards: past life relationship, religious factors, trust, true love/ Astrodices: pisces, north node, 8th house/ Charms: aventurine, white heart, shell, bouquet, agate)

I suggest you to check pile 2 in case you felt called to that pile too, both groups got similar cards and charms.

Okay, for what I'm seeing here I 'm getting the vibe of partners in crime, your Fs is going to be your more trusted accomplice, I feel a lot of emotional intimacy shared here, like you know eachother darkest secrets and fully accep them with no judgements. The overall energy I'm picking from your relationship is peace and acceptance, you won't have to wear any mask to please your Fs or viceversa, your relationship is like a safe shelter in the middle of a chaotic world and you both will be highly grateful with the connection you two share. You'll feel like you are capable of anything with your FS by your side, they'll be extremely supportive of you and will help you to reach your personal goals, I'm hearing that they will got your back in your mischiefs too. This relationship gives me the feeling of two kids living their dreams at its fullest, there's this lighthearted and innocent energy surrounding your bond that really makes my heart warm. You might already know who your Fs is but there's separation at the moment, for some it can be that you already know them but you doubt if they trully are the person meant for you. You'll have to trust the process at the first stages of the relationship, this can be a twin flame connection and this type of soul bonds require spiritual growth. Both of you will have to supress the outside interferences and listen to your heart to recognize eachother, you got the true love card so it won't be difficult to find out.

The dices are confirming another level of soul connection, this feels sweet and ethereal. You two share a common soul mission in this lifetime and will be fullfiled greatly, if you have children your grandkids will brag and daydream about your love story, especially if you have a granddaughter (or will have it in the future) she will take your relationship as a role model for her life too. You'll build an empire or a dinasty, something significative that will last for a long time, deep inside you know you are meant for great things and this is your confirmation with the extra info that you'll reach the stars with the love of your life by your side. I''m also seeing with the 8th house that the sexual connection will be on a higher level too, maybe at some point of the relationship you start learning more about tantric practices or take your intimate moments to connect on a deeper level. I see too that you'll make time and space through all your relationship to dedicate to eachother and keep the spark shinning.

You'll be very aware of what the other is feeling or thinking, it feels like you are one soul separated in two different bodies, you'll be very similar in some aspects and very opposite in others but you'll know how to adapt to the other effortlessly, it will feel like you have known eachtoher since birth. I also see that you'll know when something happens to the other even if you are in different places, the spiritual connection will be so strong and both of you so curious and intelligent that you'll start digging more in spiritual teachings, this will make you release mental patterns or expectations about how your lives should be, even in your aspirations in life you'll have a very similar point of view. I see a lot of gift giving and romantic surprises but it's because you'll be living in eachother's mind 24/7 rent free and everything reminds you to eachother but not in an anxious way, in fact this feels very peaceful and loving, like everytime you cross eachother's mind you can't help but smile.

Pile 4:

~ Details about them:

(Cards: ant, wombat, lion, wasp, bee/ tarragon, lime, rosemary, marygold)

🎀 Your FS is an introvert, they love their alone time and spending time at home. I see your Fs is very crafty and have many different hobbies they do by themselves, speially something that needs the hands to be done like puzzles or painting.

🎀They are a kind soul, more sensitive than they would like to admit, they can be an empath and doesn't even know about it. They are a little shy when it comes to interacting with people in love terms, they can be a little clumsy in the first approach due to their nerves

🎀 They deal with a rough past in general, not just in relationships. I'm hearing bullying so this might be something your Fs had to go through in their early years. This makes a lot of sense with their empathy, they have suffered so much that they know how to put themselves in the shoes of others and deeply understand them

🎀 They are the kind of person that likes to take the positive out of every situation, no matter if the circumstances are hurtful to them, they always know how to give an step back and take the lesson hidden behind the circumstances

🎀 They have a lucky magnet, like they are naturally blessed by life because their heart is pure and filled with good intentions. They also have a very nice balance between their mind and their heart so they surely ate very emotionally intelligent

🎀 They are a very generous person in every aspect so if you are into the provider type of partner your Fs is going to be above your expectations. They give me very earthy energy so their love language could majorly be acts of services or material gifts (it's 13:13 as I'm writting this, maybe it's a relevant number for you)

🎀 I'm getting that they are regenerating themselves at the moment, they got tarragon and rosemary cards that gives me the feeling that they are healing hard childhood memories. This energy is more mental than emotional so they might be trying some mental reprogramming like healing intrusive thoughts or a cruel inner voice.

🎀 They are very sweet but not with everyone, like pile one, your Fs has a tough shell but they are willing to open up with the right person. They fear being judged but they are not scared of rejection, your Fs isn't able to see how much bravery and courage they hold within themselves, they can have a very demanding or perfectionist inner voice, they give me very virgo energy.

🎀 I'm hearing that they regenerate pretty easilly in emotional and physical level too so they like to take care of their health, they barely get sick and when they do it doesn't last more than a few days, they are blessed in health terms

🎀 They got a prosperous and successful future, they are destined to make something significative and positive for everyone, they just need a little more confidence in themselves to fully believe it but their path is clear and it is meant to be great. Take as signs of your Fs numbers 1111 and 777, also bees, clovers and a bonfire.

~ Dynamic of the relationship:

( Cards: children, free yourself, passion, keep an open mind/ Astrodices: gemini, the sun, 4th house/ Charms: garnet, rose quartz, pink heart, boat)

Let's start saying that if your Fs doesn't have already a child they want children with you, if you have children your Fs will be very caring and attentive with them too. This person is very family oriented, they might have a more traditional perspective of relationships, they'll take their role in the relationship very seriously. You'll feel very connected from the very first moment, I see that from all the piles this relationship will be the fastest to formalize, it will be very clear for both of you that you want to be together. At first some doubts can appear because your Fs might not match your expectations but you'll have to check if your standards are being realistic so take this message as it resonates with you. Once the doubts are released the connection will feel like the sun is shinning only for the two of you, you'll feel like you can be fully yourself by your Fs' side, you won't have to worry if you look nice or how you manner, they'll love to see and praise every part of you, if you deal with physical insecurities your Fs will be very caring in this aspect too. You can behave like a little child and be goofy with your Fs, they'll make a safe space for you where you don't have to fullfil any expectation, you can relax and fully express yourself as you really want to, your Fs will also ignite your confidence a lot.

You'll have a great communication, you both will feel comfortable enough to express with eachother things you would never share with anybody else, I'm really amazed of how deep your conversations can turn, you can share your most silly thoughts with tour Fs and they would so the same with you because you will understand eachother so much. You both will feel seen and valued in your relationship, you recognize the worth of eachother and the connection you will share, your Fs will make you feel cared and protected and they will feel more brave and strong because of you, you will encourage eachother to follow your dreams. With the 4th house I see that the concept of home will be very important for you two, you both have the same expectations of what a family should be and will create it together.

You'll have a happy home life together, I see you'll have a very nice and cozy house you two will love to spend time in. You will value a lot your moments together and alone, you'll take a lot of care of your intimacy and privacy, I see you will be selective with the people you let in in your lives or the energies you allow in in general. You will achieve some of your goals that will lead you to have more responsabilities that will demand your time and energy, your Fs and you will compensate this by traveling together or make small retreats, I see that some of you will like to escape near nature on your free days. Your relationship will be filled with passion and romance, you will also gain power in some areas of your life by your Fs' side.

#Spotify #witchblr #leoascendente #divination witch #tarot #tarotblr #pac reading #pick a pile #tarot reading #love tarot spread #fs tarot #future spouse #future spouse tarot

1K notes · View notes

platinumaspiration · 5 months

Text

Howdy, Simmers! I'm thrilled to present the Ultimate 4T2 Clay Hair Default Replacement Collection, designed to give your Sims a fresh and fabulous new look effortlessly! 💇‍♀️💇‍♂️✨

It's time to redefine Sim style – one fabulous hairstyle at a time. Get ready for a hair revolution with The Ultimate 4T2 Clay Hair DR Collection! 💖🌟

🍡Download - LC | MF 🍡

Updates folder - SFS | MF updated 9 Apr 2024

The nitty gritty details and disclaimers:

This is an entire collection that is interwoven with each other. Hair is repositoried to different ages, genders, defaults, and even hidden toddler hair. It's highly recommended that the collection stay intact and that you have the Ultimate Collection or all EP/SP. Recategorizers do not work with this collection

Not all hair works with each sims' faces and not all sims' faces work with each hair. So keep in mind foreheads, cheeks and ears may poke out. Previews are available at LordCrumps.com

The collection includes add ons that may require the defaults and are flagged as "Store Edition" hair. TS4 hairs range from base game to the most recent Stuff Pack (Home Chef Hustle). More hair may be included as add ons in the future.

Enable Store Edition icon

I wouldn't convert some hair without their outfit counterparts. Please make sure to remove conflicts. The outfits include:

ubodymascotknight_EP7 mbodysuperninja pubodybadger_badger pubodybadger_brown ubodycommercialmascot_buns ubodysocialbunny servo ubodycowmascot (a brighter/whiter version courtesy of tvickiesims)

Most of these hairs exist already in the realm of the community as custom hairstyles. Any of my hair previously converted (shrink, servo, santa hat, etc) should be removed; they'll be included in this collection.

TOU: Please feel free to use these as a template for your defaults and recolor the hair as you'd prefer for download purposes. I only ask that you do not reupload these original files (breaking down to packs, gender, etc) as they are intertwined and may not work without their exclusive counterparts. Please do not make these hairs as customs for reupload.

There are a few hair/items that use cc: credit: nolansims, sforzinda, arethabee

This took about... 8 months to complete. I've (re)converted all of these myself to my current expectations of my conversion content. This was play tested thoroughly over the course of that time. If there are any issues, please don't hesitate to send an ask. The file size is massive even compressed, but to be honest it's pretty decent for 500+ hair.

Under the cut are some personal sappy thank you notes that I want to share publicly:

Thank you to the defaulters at sims2defaults database for all your work! Just be kind if/when you tear into it lol

A humongous thank you to those whom have followed and been a part of my journey as a cc creator/converter. This inadvertently marks a huge follower milestone as well and I'm so happy that you all have been a part of this with me for the past (almost) 3 years!

I don't think I would have done this without meeting @lordcrumps over a year ago and joining in his journey for the ultimate 4t2 default collection. He's a true gentleman and scholar 🧐Thank you for play testing, collaborating, and above all, being one of my bestest of friends and confidant.

And, I would never ever had completed this without @tvickiesims. To think she raised me from a terrible toddler right into an angsty teen within that 8 months and still remained a true and close friend through all of it. Thank you for your extensive and detailed play testing, your companionship when I fall apart, and for being my twin flame 🤗

1K notes · View notes

darlingofvalyria · 7 months

Text

❝I am the Heir's Wife. I bore the Heir his lineage. I will not be swept aside.❞

[ The Prince Jacaerys Velaryon should have known his wife better— or at least, her ire, for when his trysts with the bastard Snow reached the Spiders and soon, the ears of his Princess Consort, rage and war drummed for Winterfell, demanding heads.

—Maestre Kevan, Volume IV of The Bastard Eater, passage chapter under 'The Flame that Sung for the North'. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 10,062 ] [ series masterlist ] | jacaerys velaryon x targaryen aunt!reader (aegon's twin sister), one-sided aegon ii x reader, jace x sara snow

contains— canon divergence - manipulative reader, targcest, smut, angst - post-vizzy t death, rhaenyra is queen - mentions of children, pregnancy, childbirth - allusions to infidelity & character death(s) - targaryen madness, revenge, domestic violence (not jace), unhinge behaviour, intense use of 'bastard', profanity, gaslighting, guilt-tripping - this is basically gone girl, you gone girl jace - dark fic - mentions of depression (aegon ii), allusions to suicide (not reader) - nsfw: oral (f receiving), breeding kink, creampie - no kings, no martyrs, no betas.

a/n— i didn't think i was going to do the sara snow thing, but herewe are. also i just wanted an excuse to go absolutely ape shit. reader gets very intense, like thoroughly unhinged. this is literally me supporting women's wrongs. it is also quite insane that this reached 10k and it's still just the first part lmaooo + comment, reblog & like at will!

"THAT FUCKING BASTARD! THAT GODSDAMNED, WHORE-FUCKING STRONG HALF BREED!"

Your shrieks echo stone and shadow, interrupted only by the things you pick up and hurl. Anything your hands grab, you throw and spit obscenities against, rage and tears ruin your pretty visage. The fury swept past your cherub features, a dragon breaking through the Hightower seams, upending fire and roar from the pits of your being.

"HOW DARE HE?! I GAVE HIM AN HEIR! I BROUGHT HIM PEACE! I BETRAYED—" you roar, pulling your pearl dagger— a gift from your Strong Bastard of a Husband — and throwing it to your vanity mirror, glass shards exploding. "— MY KIN!"

"DAUGHTER, PLEASE!"

Arms wound across your torso—hardened and chain-mail — as you fight against your bounds before a pain flashes to your cheek. Your rage quiets, hard breaths from your lungs. You turn your tear-stained anger to your mother and her palm, fright and terror on her regale visage.

Death of a spouse becomes the Queen Dowager in her pale blue robe and unbound spirals of auburn hair. Peace had begotten a realm that is balanced on the lineage you had produced for the Queen, her heir, and your own, as the new Princess of Dragonstone. With Otto Hightower for evermore banished to Oldtown, Kings Landing had been brought to a flowering kindness.

Queen Rhaenyra's ascension had been a wondrous affair, fit the for the first crowned Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Not a Queen Consort, not a Queen Regent. An heir who rose for the crown always meant to be hers.

But the calamity that brewed in her ascension... no. You paved the peace. T'was you who wrangled the Great Houses that proved allyship to your twin brother's banner, you who blessed her with tranquility of a rule that will be known for ages that will precede you all.

And now her son... her son dared to destroy everything.

A conversation floats above your head, by your Queen Mother and her sworn shield, the Ser Cole, but you barely hear anything past the ringing in your head.

The Targaryen Madness the sheep so call it, an idle voice, faint and familiar, whispers in the niches of your brain. It has infected you so. It breathes, fuelled by the air wrought by your husband's betrayal. It sings, sweet love. It sings.

"—your grace, I urge to hold her—"

"—she is my daughter, Ser Cole, I am not in danger. Release her."

Justice, the voice shrieks? Screams? But it is so soft in your head, a wail of a memory, a woman or a man? must be had. No dragon falls in such disgrace.

The tight wound over your torso is unleashed but the knight is not far, tensed to cage you, when your mother grasps your elbows as you grab hers, nails digging into the thick fabric of her hem that she still winces, your grip steel-tight.

"My darling, please. I cannot help you if you do not speak what ails you." She brushes her hand desperately across your face, smearing your tears, trying to find the daughter she bore past the savagery and madness that beholds you now. "What has happened?"

You draw a tightened, harsh breath to your lungs, rattling your bones that you quiver in your attempt for sanity.

"I am being shamed, mother," you whisper. Stark, violet eyes meeting the worried round, brown of hers. "The Strong bastard is whoring himself to another, a Northern bastard."

A cackle falls your lips as alarmed gazes are exchanged above your head.

"Y-You cannot say such things aloud, sweet girl," your mother hushes your madness, pulling you close to her chest as she shoots a glance at the door.

Criston checks outside, but only your maids linger. Dyanna presses a finger against her lips, catching the knight's eye, and the rest scatter, surely to make sure that no one that need not know of their mistress' words is within reach. A shiver still runs his spine. He will never get used to the quiet, almost non-verbal way your connection worked and reached. Your Spiders weave webs all around, even as their mistress sunders with rage.

"Mayhaps you are mistaken, for sure the prince is loyal, and he adores you—"

You pull back against her, teeth bared. She flinches and Ser Cole steps forward, wary. "It is the third missive now that I have received. Did you think I would not have confirmed twice— thrice? I didn't believe it the first time! But three people have now confirmed that all this time, in the guise of rallying his mother's cause in the North, he is spending ample time with the Lord Stark's bastard sister. His bastard fucking sister!"

Your mother's horror catches that of Ser Criston's, but your fury is your own, you are a dragon trapped in the ruin of your own making, of the webs you had spun so cleverly to get to this point, and you cannot stop.

"I am the Heir's Wife. I bore the Heir his lineage, my blood spilled the birthing bed for it." A cry leaves your lips as your grief and rage pools like ichor from your chest to the floor. Alicent is torn away from you— your nails had gone through her robe and she had cried in pain, a mimick of your own, a mother to a daughter to a mother to a daughter, a cycle, an Ouroboros — and you fall to the floor, grasping at your chest.

"I will not be swept aside. I will not be ignored."

A gasp falls from your lips as your mind moves to a quiet, still place. The tremble fades, your rage and grief whirls, collects, as you push it all back inside your chest.

Your madness must be sharpened for it be used as a sword.

And you cannot let him be happy in another's arms.

If you cannot drag them to the Hells, sweet dragon, the idle voice hums, hisses? Screeches. Your ancestors— all of those who have succumbed to dreamy madness — appears in the corners of your vision like soldiers. Awaiting for you to join them. Awaiting the blood that you will spill.

Then you must raise the Hells unto Winterfell.

"...my daughter?" Alicent calls, hesitant. Cole hovers but does not approach, standing guard in protection of the Dowager. It breaks her heart to see you this way, a young woman still, much older than she was when she married but only because you had always sought your future. You had always had a hardened scale, far stronger than she.

Even when you made your entrance to the world— the unmeasurable pain of bringing not one, but two heirs into the world, her firstborns, all at once — you had never cried. The maestres, maids, they worried for you, as your twin brother had not stopped crying, so alive and red, raw from the wound of being fresh.

But you... you had not made a sound.

The entire weight of your being— your mind, your emotions — even then, you wrangled them close to your very centre, never letting them stray too far from the edges of your fingertips. As if any release must be made with a perused thought. An incentive of reason.

Even then, you plotted every step you took.

Now, Alicent watches as her firstborn daughter suctions all her emotions— that Targaryen madness that plagued the blood of her husband, his ancestors — and made her ploy.

Against the husband that dared make a fool of her.

The silence beckons nightmare. Old fear flickers inside the Queen Dowager.

"Where are my daughters?"

"What?"

"My daughters," you repeat, a hair's breadth louder than the first time you spoke. Your eyes flutter upward. The deadened gaze curled Alicent's heart in fear. "Where are they?"

"In the nursery, with the twins and Maelor. Helaena and Aegon are watching them."

You offer your hand up mutely, and Cole exchanges one last, lingering look with the Dowager, before offering his own. You stand up, thank him softly, and brush and clean up your face to the best of your ability. An utter calmness over your visage.

"Tell no one of what I had told you," you say, fixing your hair and rubbing the red from your cheeks. One minute there is madness, the next there is nothing. There is only a girl. A woman. A princess. "No one knows apart the three of us, and if you ever decide, Ser Criston, that nigh is the glorious time for you to betray my mother or I, know that the last thing thing oyu will fear is the Stranger's hand when I am through with you."

Your mother shouts your name, horrified. "What are you thinking? What are you plotting?"

You cup Alicent's face, smiling ever sweet. "Your innocence will keep you safe, mother. All I ask, for the heart you keep for your children, that you keep this between sealed lips and tilted chin. You know nothing, yes?"

"... Yes. Nothing."

You place a tender kiss on your mother's head. "Keep Daenera and Aemma safe for me. Aegon and I are flying to Dragonstone promptly. Sweet Helaena does ever so get overwhelmed by watching all of the children by herself."

"D-Dragonstone?"

Your sweet smile touched with poison, stretches. "It is high time I take a dragon for myself, don't you think so?"

While an insecure obsession had fraught your younger brother about claiming a dragon, you had met it with indifference.

For how can you not mourn the loss of Aemond's sight, staring in quiet horror the entire time as the maestre did his best to salvage the muck mess of blood and nerve endings, before the old man had shaken his head, and you turned to the small bowl that contained your brother's eye, unable to look at anything else.

Not even when your mother's rage was met with apathy and anger, her demands for justice nothing more than a woman's insanity, a mother's grief that must be swept away, tucked under a chin and a sadness she will never get rid of.

"Do not mourn me, mother. It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon."

Your soft-hearted, darling, baby brother. None of his words had thawed the freezing of your heart, the grief under the swell of your breastbone.

Your own mourning was kept between teeth and tongue, as you had slept with your siblings that night. The four of you, tucked under the wing of the other, Aemond close to your chest as possible, as quiet, hot tears ran down your face. Every moan of pain or whimper he made in his sleep tore at each new vein inside of you.

"Dragons are the symbol of our House's power," Aegon had once said, windswept hair you tried to tame with your fingers, smelling fresh of Sunfyre and winds.

"And yet, there were no eggs in our child beds." He stiffened while you smiled sadly, curling your twin's hair away form his face, making him presentable and dusting the bout of sand that managed to find his leathers. You had been scolded long before by your grandsire of how you coddle Aegon, how you defend him, mother him more than your mother ever could, but you cannot stop. You were meant to care for him, tethered you once were inside your mother's womb together, you hold him steady now.

Whenever he was lost, whenever his sadness overtook him, wrung your brother dry of life, you bat the Stranger's hand and bring him back.

"But we have proved them wrong," he insisted. "All of us, even Aemond with Vhagar— the war queen, Visenya's dragon — we have claimed ours. Daeron all the way Oldtown has Tessarion, even Helaena has Dreamfyre. And yet you insist..."

You wound your arms over his torso, keeping him close in a silly hug where you sway and dance him around. A laugh escaped him while you inhaled the scent of smoke, soot, and that grime stench of beast.

Aegon on his good days lacked the bottle-edge of wine, of cheap salts from the waft of the soiled, Silk Streets.

This was your brother. No one else.

"I fare better without one," you whispered in his ear. "I appear innocent, sweet almost, without a beast in my command. They look at me with nothing but pity and the urge to protect me. Our father likes me like this, his poor, lovely daughter without a dragon of her own, listening so intently to his histories of Old Valyria. Our sister is eased, as one daughter is plagued by dreams and struggles with the real world, while the other cannot even claim a dragon of her own. Poor princess, Hightower blood must have thickened in her veins. She too, is no threat."

You pulled back, smiling at him. "They like me better like this. Pitiful, compliant, nothing but a sweet and pretty flower that sways in the Spring breeze. A beautiful decoration but no more."

He rubbed a thumb on your arm, a worry knot on his forehead. Aegon adored you but he struggled to piece together where your plot lies. You are a web-spinner, forever dancing out of reach, catching prey and lengthening your intricacies. "Is that why you hide your training with Aemond alone? Ser Criston is mother's sworn shield, he would not mind—"

"I will not place my secrecies to a knight with a soiled cloaked," you snorted. "No matter how tall he stands beside our mother. I trust no one but my kin. And I know that no matter how heavy you drink, sweet Aeg of mine, my secrets are your own."

He took your hand, kissing the back of it, stare impregnable. "As your blood is my own, our fire is one flame. I go where you tell me to."

You kissed his cheek, a reward, laughing. He smiles proudly at the sound. At this time, you dangled yourself to your brother as bait as the pressure from your grandsire to make him King started rising. You had been given notice that he had been talking to House Lannister, Wylde, even some Riverland lords.

You did not mind becoming Aegon's second wife. Just as his namesake, he will have his Rhaenys and Visenya. Unlike the Conqueror however, he would adore his Visenya more than a true flower. Helaena would enjoy that far better.

"And if I tell you to jump?" you half-purred.

"I will ask you how high."

Memories and choices break and tide as you scramble for hold on the rocky cliff face. Dragonmont in the dark is a behemoth beast, a screech or two breaking like lightning crackles, or the familiar drum beat of wings before the silence consumes once more. The stench of fire, of beasts and carcasses helps cloak the darkened night.

"Udligon ñuha brōzagon, Answer my call," you hiss into fraudulent emptiness, hands gripping rocky edges until your blood beads, "you fucking lizards."

"Have you gone mad!?"Aegon shouted, trying to pace with your run to the dragonpit.

A rocky laugh broke out from your being, not deigning that with a reply. Aegon huffed angrily.

"Alright, tell me this then. How are you so sure I'm not just about to put you on a bleeding volcano to die? We claim your dragon in the morn, sister. First thing before we break our fast. I'm sure by then, Vermithor or—"

You whipped your head around, pulling halt. "I leave tonight to claim my dragon. Whether it is you and Sunfyre who gets me there, or Aemond and Vhagar, is no matter to me. I will claim one tonight. It is up to you to decide now if we tell Aemond or not."

Aemond, whose anger is wounded tight, the barest excuse for war always at the edge of his hum. The misstep at Storm's End had cost him everything. Had cost your mother everything. Queen still, Alicent Hightower had bent the knee and offered her life in exchange for mercy. Before Rhaenyra passed judgement, Viserys I had passed.

It didn't matter that you had ensured a higher dosage from the Harrenhal witch in his usual milk of the poppy. Your spiders moving with ease through the silent channels you had established long before your own flowering.

The Red Keep had scrambled, the Heir with it. It was enough time for Lucerys to have come out of the red, confirmed to live through the worst of it without as much as a broken bone. Arrax however, had been badly maimed, and would no longer take flight. But he and his rider would live. Aemond would live. Alicent would have her son. Rhaenyea will have hers, and the crown.

Kevan had done his duty unto you while you settled the storms in Dragonstone. You rewarded him handsomely.

Aegon sighed. He too, would like your honour avenged, but not for the sake of war. "As you wish, sister. I hope you know what you're doing and I am not about to send you to your death."

Just like what you did to your mother, you reached forward and cupped his face. If before, your touch stills his heart and floods his cavities with warmth, a flash of fear strikes the twin son at the eerie smile on your face.

"Skoros morghot vestri? What do we say to the god of death?"

Aegon blinked. "Tubī daor. Not today."

You smiled. "Trust me, sweet Aeg. It is not my death the Stranger will take. Not until the fjords of the North are at my mercy."

"Iksan kesīr sir naejot māzigon ñuha sikagon pakto! I am here now to claim my birth right!" Your scream echoes and falls, repeating back to you. There is a hum, like an electric current that sizzles and pops inside your blood and marrow, and you scramble higher and higher on the rock. Your blood does not sing for the dragon lairs, but above. Up and up, jagged edges cut your skin and dress, the wind whipping with sea mist, but nothing, no one, can clamour you as you reach the peak.

At first you see nothing but darkness and hollow sounds. But you let your eyes adjust, a hiss breaking out of your dry lips as you stumble. You look down. What you first thought were rocks and wayward bones of cattle is bigger.

Whale? No.

Dragon. Dragon bone.

You look and will every sense that your eyes do not. The smell that is drowned— iron. Bones bigger than a person. Than cows and whales. Bones of fearsome beasts. Darkness moves, taking form, more than shadow. Scales hewn rough and jagged, as if stone themselves. Midnight black moving with the gentlest of sighs.

As soon as you realise what— or who — is in front of you, the eyes open with an intelligent gleam. Your heart jolts at the emerald irises that gaze back at you, slitting at the appearance of a human.

'The stench of death follows him', the voice of an old keeper hums into your ear. You no longer remember who told this to you, but the words ring true in your memory. 'Scales of midnight, as if hewn from darkness and death. A harbinger, your grace, an omen of the darkest nightmares.'

"Rytsas. Hello." You smile, ever sweet, ever charming.

This is a thread you had never felt before. Not one of your own making, but something older. A golden thread that led the eyes of Daenys the Dreamer. That spun the ties of Aegon the Conqueror. The voices that herded your madness had gone quiet in the mad rush to get here, but now their presence thickens. Words you cannot hear, nor understand, flood the silence as dragon met rider for the first time.

Keepers and historians have called him he, but every bone in your body tells you that the being before you is a she.

And wouldn't that make sense? A cannibalistic being is a woman?

She opens her maw, only ever slightly, smoke and fire crackling out of it. Molten lava in the belly of her insides tease the cool, night air and warms you.

Her version of a smile. Hello, she seem to say.

"Māzīs. Come," you say, giggling. "Dohaerās. Serve."

That night, you took your first flight.

That night, the Cannibal took her first flight with her first— and only — rider as well.

❝ . . . It is said that the formerly named "The Cannibal" had been entranced by the hunger of his new— first and evermore — rider. Prince Aegon the Elder who had escorted his twin sister that very night with Sunfyre, had looked up in alarm and fright to a maddened screech. Excitement and laughter pouring out from the newly bonded Dragon and Rider had soon turned fear into awe.

Gaelithox, she had been named as they had ridden until dawn broke by the rider who loved her 'till the end of their days, was said to have seen a mirror in Her Grace. The fathomless hunger for blood and organ from the same bodies of their kin. For Gaelithox ever hungers and satisfies for the same meat as her, at the height of her grief and ire that fuelled the Queen Consort to climb Dragonmont by hand, she too hungered for the throats of her traitorous blood.

Gaelithox will only have one rider in her whole life, as she found no same twin soul as akin in the Bastard Eater Queen. Their bond moved as if two bodies beheld one soul.

She shied from humans, and oft found too rough with other dragons. Vhagar was an exception, oft seen acting as an elder sister to the Queen's dragon when neither royal rode them and played in the skies. Smaller dragons were forbidden to approach her however, nor was she allowed in the dragonpit after almost devouring the flightless Arrax.

She died two moons after the Queen's death, delivering her final flames for her rider and would never more breathe her infamous green flames akin to Wildfire, ordered by the Crowned Heir, Princess Daenera Velaryon. It is said that the princess attempted to bond with the cannibalistic dragon but it refused.

The dragon spent her last moons in heartbreak, oft seen in Dragonstone and the Red Keep, circling her rider's most favourite places. Her final resting place is at the very top of Dragonmont from whence the Queen claimed her. It is said that the Queen's crown, the one the King Jacaerys had gifted her after the birth of their first sons, the Princes Laenor and Gaemon, is said to be placed there, as well as a portion of her ashes.

It is said that the King and the Queen's twin brother, the Prince Aegon, personally made the trek in remembrance.

It is widely suspected that Aelyx, Princess Daella's dragon, the youngest child of the King and Queen, may have been Gaelithox's only existing hatchling for he too is made of rough, midnight scales. The dragon that bred with her remains to be unknown. ❞

—Maestre Kevan Noratz, Volume X of The Life and Lies of the Emerald Flame, passage chapter under 'The Time of Hunger: Gaelithox'.

You leave Gaelithox to a mournful goodbye on Dragonstone, pressing your forehead against her hard, scaly head, promising to come back, of exchanging her diet for fat, juicy whales, for more wind-whipped rides, before riding back on Sunfyre with Aegon. The younger dragon would not rise from the beaches in fear of the cannibalistic elder, but you made ensuring promises to teach Gaelithox not to chew your dearest brother's dragon.

You had gone most of your life without the feeling of a bond beneath you, warm and alive and wild, and the roar and stench that though new, felt so familiar in your ribcage— you will fly again. And with your brothers beside you. With Helaena and her lovely Dreamfyre.

To think they had taken this from you too, to placate them. To play into their hands like a mewling kitten.

No more.

It is paces before fast is about to break when you both touch back down to Kings Landing. The Keep busying with its occupants, servants and maids bolstering with quickened feet to ensure the lords and royals are awakened with full, poached meals, dresses and coats readied for their lords and ladies, a new, glorious day under the Reign of the Black Queen.

"What now?" Aegon asks, trying to keep with your pace but he is fatigued, failing to stop his yawns. The excitement of last night had come upon him like a fog, and he is missing his bed. Hells, he is missing the bed he stays with his wife if it meant he would get a full night's sleep in the hours of the day.

"Now, we speak nothing of what happened."

He turns to you, frowning. "Just like that?"

"Just like that." You beam, nodding in favour of soldiers and maids who bow in reverence to the Crown Princess. You know you smell of dragon and night, and you need a bath. And to talk to Dyanna before you seek your daughters. "I will need time and people. The board must still be set for me to perfectly execute what I have in store."

"Alright." He yawns again. "I'll be in my quarters, passed out, if you need me. Please do not need me until sup."

You laugh breathlessly, grabbing his hand and giving it a wet kiss. "I will give you your rest, be assured. Kirimvose, dōna lēkia, Thank you, sweet brother."

The words are simple, said in a quiet murmur heavy with love and meaning. Aegon presses a loving kiss to your head, unable to stop himself winding an arm around you.

"Syt ao, va moriot, ñuha prūmia. For you, always, my heart."

As you break to each other's chambers— his, to sleep, you, already meeting Yna and requesting for a bath — you don't notice the lurker that watched the intimate moment between twins, humming in amusement before it moves to follow you.

Back in your quarters— your marriage quarters as Jacaerys had requested that you forgo having your own, not wishing to part with you — the maids are already busying themselves airing the room, moving to follow your usual routine. The only thing breaking it is the tub now in the centre.

"Thank you," you say to Yna as she picks out the pins from your hair, shrugging off your dress in the process as soon as the maids had untangled the lace behind you.

"Call for Dyanna," you tell them as they bow and leave, the door clicking softly behind them. Plans must be made. Bath for now.

With the world stifled for a second, left with only you and your thoughts, you plunge your body under too-hot water, sighing against the aches and pains in your body. Dragon-riding is a new endeavour to your muscles, and though enjoyable, was still too new.

You sigh as tears fall from your eyes, blinking exhaustedly against soft, humming daylight. You had always known that love, as it is, is a maiden's folly. A foolish, hapless play meant to fool young girls into thinking the world is kind; a pretty place.

It was an even farther thought from you, a princess of the realm. At a young age, it has been drilled to you that your womb is a rare commodity. Your body has never been your own, a piece meant to be moved in a bigger game that you are used for, not play.

You weren't stupid.

If there's a few things Otto Hightower had ever granted you, apart from gifting you his keen prowess in moving power beneath your fingertips, in hungering for more, for better— it is understanding what each person is, who they can be, how you can move them. A flatter, a flair, a push. As a man, there is much to be desired about your grandsire; he used people, used family to pursue power, but you can't truly fault him for that as you were the same.

You just took better care of the people under your wing.

And for Jace, you had banished him.

The worst part, you knew there was a good, fat chance you would care for the princeling. He was a kind man, a sweet man, and with a guiding hand, you could forge yourself the best husband for yourself as much as you can mould a great king and a wonderful father. Women's hands are ever carved to mould and prod men. We stand behind, a presence or a hand, an echo of power.

But your Jace had surpassed it all, and in the moons leading up to your present day, to giving him his heirs, two beautiful daughters, the promised full Valyrian colouring in the silver hair in Daenera, your eldest, the wide, violet gaze in Aemma— the name of his mother's mother, a request of him that you had kindly, graciously fucking agreed to — of course there is a part of you, the girlish, tender heart that you long thought you had buried to get here, would fall for the brown-eyed, wondrous man.

You sink deeper into the tub, sighing as you let yourself unravel—

When you feel it. A presence in your room. It's soft. Silent. Not a lot would feel as such, but as paranoid as you are, as you keep your spiders clean and pretty with your dewy-eyed webs— you know better.

Your mind runs with ideas on who it might be, and come to a few people. No true name rises. The Red Keep is flooded with spies and traitors. You test your luck, sitting up on the tub, raising an arm over the lip of it and flicking water with your fingertips.

"If you are here to kill me, I'm afraid it will be a lost cause."

He laughs, sardonic and edged and familiar, jetting a tingle down your spine.

Well. There's getting a calm bath.

"Perceptive as always, niece," he says, heavy footfalls approaching now that he has been caught. "I'm just here to say hello."

You raise your eyes, mouth curled but unsmiling at the man who acts as the biggest thorn to your plots. Daemon Targaryen has never fallen through your webs, on guard against your flatter, your push, or your flair. Of course, taking the position of his daughter might have forever burnt that road, but you would think he'd ease up just a little bit when his wife, the Queen, had warmed to you considerably.

Unlike your mother, you had never been hostile to your bitch of an elder sister. Just like your plots for Aegon and Jacaerys, and nodding along to thread your father had started but abandoned, foolishly thinking the realm would follow without him fully ensuring your sister's claim to the throne— you carefully maintained a polite farce with Rhaenyra.

Ultimately, this became a boon to you, as she had responded positively to your abrupt marriage to her son, even reminding her deranged guard dog of their own marriage. The cream to your lemon cake had been when you birthed Aemma, the Queen's most favourite grandchild thus far. When she was a babe, Rhaenyra was never far; almost, always holding your daughter, cooing at her cheeks, remarking her likeness to her namesake with pure fondness.

But Daemon Targaryen knew, in the deepness of his marrow, that there is something wrong with you.

"Hello," you answer primly. He laughs, leaning against the passage to your open balcony. "We could have had this elating greeting at fast, if you wish to break it with me and my own."

He scoffs, unable to hide his disdain at the thought. It breaks his stare of your naked visage. Men. "I would rather jump to the fighting pits, good daughter."

"How rude. Is that all?" You meet his gaze steadily, tilting your head. "If it is not obvious yet, good father, I am bathing."

An amused smirk. "I can see that." Lecherous fucking geezer. "No matter. I just have a... curious thought, a wonder I suspect you may be able to answer. See. Truly odd it is, for the keepers to alert me this morning that Sunfyre had taken a ride past the Hour of Owl." Your heart thuds in your ribcage and you do your best to keep your expression mildly irritated. "Not with one, drunken rider, but with another. It had taken them hours, only coming back when morning had already presented in the air."

He steps forward, slow, menacing, until he reaches the edge of your tub and crouches. Your gazes are still unmatched in height, defiant as yours might be.

"The distinct smell wafts them, a Keeper said, and one suspects that though one dragon left last night, two might have come back this morning for he had seen another fly away." His fingers dips into the water, swirling the steam without breaking eye contact. "I wonder if you know anything about it, darling niece of mine."

The mocking emphasis is not lost on you. If the Queen is the Realm's Delight, you were Darling of the Realm. A sweet, merry girl, the secondborn daughter of Viserys I who frequently fought for the plight of the small folk, who gathered friends of all kinds of lords and ladies no matter the standing of their houses to her own, visiting far lands and charming every person in any room. Who made any feast brighter, always sparkling, always the darling.

Less of a dragon, more of a fairytale.

You sit up, leaning, baring your breasts completely to him as you pull yourself up on the ledge he is crouched from. He leans back, only slightly, as you smile demurely. Sweet. Tart. On the edge of pulling his head and hitting it against the copper tub.

"I am unsure of what you suspect, or is accusing me of, kepus, uncle," you purr and there's a twitch in his mouth, a widen in his irises— men are so fucking simple — "I had been feeling down last night, as my husband, as you know, is beyond my reach at the moment as he rallies alliances for the good of the realm. My brother had simply offered to take me out riding, trying to quell my loneliness with an excitable flight I had never been afforded."

You tilt your head. "Even if there had been a dragon binded to my own, why why would I not regale the realm with news of my success? I have longed for a dragon of my own, but alas, I have not quite succeeded where most of the family have." You pout. His eyes flicker. "Mayhaps I am more Hightower than I am Targaryen."

A huff leaves his lips, the amusement in his smile arching to his dark, dark gaze. Before you can react, his hand had comes forward to hold your chin in a tight grip, your jaw aching soon enough at the fingers that dig against your skin, wanting to bruise, to break.

Though a tremble passes your body, you keep his stare, gritting your teeth as the pad of his thumb brushes your lips. Moments and desires thrum between a charged hatred.

The lust is twisted from wanting to fuck you to wanting to kill you. The line is not simple. Maybe that is your fate together.

But he can't. You are well too ingrained in his family now, loved by the people he cared about. You are untouchable. For now. This is a warning, waiting for you to stutter, to show your hand. Any show of your true intentions... he is more than happy to swing Dark Sister across your throat.

He releases you without another word, standing up and leaving through the front door, the door clicking shut.

You sink back into the bath, letting the water engulf you.

Your daughters are moons apart in birth, and there are only a few differences between them that people oft remarked they could be twins. Daenera is taller, spindly. Built like Aemond when he was younger. Her hair is spun moon and eyes of mullish blue. It reminds you of Daeron's eyes. You had named Daenera yourself, a gruelling birth that took the entire night. You promised Jacaerys he could name the second. He had chosen Aemma for a girl, Laenor for a boy.

Not a few moons later, you were with child again. Your husband pinked at the cheeks at the chiding from his family. When she cried into the afternoon sun—Aemma was born mid day, during a council meeting — he pain did not stop the laugh that came out of your mouth from the horrified expression from the Master of Coin as your water broke.

Aemma had a sweetheart face, cheeks much fatter than her older sister's, with a yellowish tinge to her hair, curlier too, reminding you of Aegon. And Aemma laughed more, her deep, violet eyes always half closed as she exploded in giggles and bright, sunshine happiness.

Sons they might not be, but you had given heirs for the throne. And for them, you would do anything to keep their futures intact. Bond with a dragon, face the Rogue Prince, upheave Winterfell. Anything.

You flounce to the nursery where you know the two would be, smiling sweetly at every person you pass as they bow in reverence. Most wore sights of confusion, their greedy eyes and wagging tongues drinking in the deep, emerald glisten of your gown.

It's an old dress, one you keep in the corner of your collection. It isn't as if you had forgo the colours of your mother's house, but playing court meant every movement, even the clothes you wear, can be meaningful. And since your marriage, your Jace liked you in Velaryon colours.

"A goddess come to bless," he gasped against your collarbone, keeping your legs high on his waist as he rutted into you before his teeth sunk on your skin. As newlyweds go, there is not a lot of teasing to be had for your husband to curl against you in a darkened alcove. Merely wearing his favourite colour on your skin has him panting like a dog. His favourite dress is a seafoam blue that dragged longer against the ground in a soft, almost-gossamer material with a silver belt.

Enticing him never took long, but you enjoyed the dance presented. You enjoyed the dark hunger that filled him until he grabbed you to take you because he just had to take you.

The fresh wound slices deeper as you imagine all the things Jacaerys is doing to the so called Sara Snow. The emerald green of your gown shimmers with your anger.

"Fucking bastards," you can't help but say aloud, nodding at the guards posted on the nursery as you hear the squeals of your daughter and the calm, even voice of your brother.

"Muña! Mother!" Aemma squeals, untangling herself from being pressed against Aegon's side as the children— Daenera and Jaehaera — cuddle around him, before running to you. Helaena is on the floor, entertaining baby Maelor. Your mother, hands twisting against her own, stands vigil by the window, staring far ahead.

You catch your secondborn, giggling as you pressed kiss after kiss on her face.

"I see everyone has started without me. Where is Jaehaerys?"

"You were late, sodjisto, aunt," Jaehaera grins gummily. Jahaera is only a year older than Daenera. Your daughters, five and a half and five respectively. "Jaehaerys is with kepus, uncle. They are training."

"Smart girl." You meet your brother's gaze, whose eyes had notably been staring at your dress, mouth turned down. "Why don't you three play with Helaena? I shall speak about Name Day gifts for your Uncle Joffrey for a bit, hm?"

As Aemma shrieks something about cakes, and Daenera dutifully kissing your cheek in greeting before she takes Jaehaera's hand, you turn to your brother and mother.

"Aemond?" you ask softly, keeping your voice out of earshot. Alicent shakes her head. You nod. "Good. We don't want him inciting a war before I have mine properly planned."

As the Dowager draws in a sharp inhale, Aegon grabs your hands, the worry pulled taunt in his eyebrows. "Are you seriously contemplating war, sister? Isn't there a better way to punish them?"

"What punishment does a man regale in?" you hiss, stepping close to him. "Or the Queen's heir for the bloody matter? When Aemond nearly killed Lucerys, and he confronted me as if I had ordered Vhagar to tear through his brother, I thought I had put to bed any doubts in our marriage. It seems that men stray, regardless. My daughters may be his heir now, but what is to say that bastard wildling he's found himself cock deep in produces a son? Will he shame me with a mistress? Or will he shame me with a second wife?"

Your mother's lips tightens, her fingers paling at how tight she is gripping her nerves.

"Bastard or not, if he takes her to wife, I will be nothing. Make that babe a son, and the realm will rally for it. Daenera is his heir. My daughters will not be forgone. I will not be pushed aside. This is mercy, brother," you say softly, tucking a stray curl behind his ear. "My last one. It requires time, moons, to unfurl. It requires seeding doubt and unfathomable inadequacy. Better if Aemond is none the wiser, Helaena the same. But I will need both of you for this to work. It is the only time I will ever ask. For me. For my daughters."

"And you will punish Winterfell with a war?" your mother asks, frown pulled deep. "That is the plan?"

"I will not. I won't do such a thing so blatant, mother, you know me better than that. But this is my last mercy, and it will be the last. For the next time he offends me so, I do not care if Rhaenyra feeds me to Syrax. I will put a dagger through his heart, heir or not."

The Prince Jacaerys comes back not a week later. Though he comes back to the same castle with the same occupants— your shiny new threads gleam. The stage has been set, a play ready to act. You had sent more spiders in the North, keeping a close eye to every blasphemy your husband has been enjoying in the absence of his duties, and as the rage in you quietly grew with each new whisper, your determination hardens.

You mark each indescretion. You keep a tally.

You count for each fall your blow will land on him.

Vermax lands with a screech and a heavy thump, your husband leaping off him with a grin on his face, matching the one you own, waving your arm joyously with Aemma in your arm and Daenera beside you, holding to your skirt as she grinned at her father.

Aemma wiggles under your hold, and you let Jace get close enough before you set her down, laughing, "Okay, okay!" Her laughter carries through as she scrambles like a bull to her father. A squeal peals out of her as Jace picks her up just in time and tosses her in the air.

"Want to meet kepa, father, sweet girl?" you whisper to Daenera, running a hand down her hair before she nods, breaking out into her own sprint, hugging her father as he greets them with laughter and kisses.

You let them have their time, and this, at least, eases your heart truthfully. A kind reminder that Jace adores his daughters.

You stay at the edge of the entrance, your too-wide grin softens into a smile. You were dramatic, nothing new about that, but even in the pale, pearl blue of your dress in silky, Myrish lace, the emeralds in your heavy, golden belt winks. Green ribbons twisted in your hair alongside fresh flowers. When the trio of your family treks toward you, silver-haired babes clinging to your dark haired prince, you serve a wink at the girls and they untangle themselves from their father while you stepped forward.

A choreographed dance, not giving him time to think. To pause.

Every step is calculated, every item on your body— the silk, the small seahorse that locks your dress behind you, the tint on your lips to the oil in your hair and body — is made to perform. You engulf him in you as if you want to suffocate his senses, your arms wrapping around him with sweet kisses pressing on his face, his neck.

Most in the dragonpit looked away, others, scandalously amazed and enchanted, watch as the princess is undeniably enthralled with her lord husband.

His laughter rumbles across his body, infecting your own, smelling of dragonback and crisp winds. You wonder if your nose is more heightened, you would be able to smell his whore in him, but you don't. It's just him. Your Jace.

Your body moulds against his as his arms tightens around you. When you lean back, you sweetly press a chaste kiss on his lips, grinning.

"What is this?" he huffs a laugh, meeting your doeful gaze. Your fingers curl around his chin, his cheek, idly tapping and touching as if you are committing so much newness to memory.

"Kostagon iā ābrazȳrys daor jaelagon zirȳla valzȳrys? Can a wife not want her husband?" you ask softly, pressing a few more kisses before sucking the last one just under his ear. His body shudders. You hide your smirk. "Skori ēza issare qrīdrughagon tolī bōsa? When he has been away too long?"

A yearning look tints your gaze from under your lashes, and you have to stifle the winning smirk as guilt pinches his face.

"My apologies, my wife. I did not mean to be away from you for long. From the girls." As his eyes flick to his daughters, your mask momentarily sharpens into clear distaste. The urge to dig your fingers into his eyes until he is bleeding and screaming under you is one you tamper with great distress.

Did not mean...

Did not mean to have a dalliance with another woman?

Did not mean to fall into bed with a fucking bastard, you insidious cunt, while I await here with your heirs?

Your anger thrums, nestled deep in your heart, it breathes. You school your face the moment he turns back to you, bringing your hands to his lips, kissing each finger with reverent tenderness. His brown eyes smoulder, rubbing your bare— irises widening — back.

"If you wish it, I can be on my knees for my apologies, my princess."

Your mouth curls. "I'm afraid that might have to be quite later, my prince."

"Huh?"

"The Dowager Queen hoped to congratulate you on your successful campaigning. Reaching as far as the North so frequently, we planned a feast for your return." Eyes shinning, you cup his face. You hope the guilt eats him raw from the inside out. Like worms. Like termites. Hungry, hungry, hungry. "We have never been more proud of you, I have never been more proud of you."

You laugh brightly, ignoring the way he squeezed you just a bit harder that mere second the same time his eyes tightened. "The moment I told the girls of it, they had begged to dance with you." Then you bit your lip, frowning slightly. "I... I understand if you are tired, 'tis a long journey after all, I did try to tell them you might want to rest, we can sneak you—"

"No, no, my heart, of course I would be happy to, I— I want nothing more." He brings you close, face disappearing into your neck. "Thank you. I love you."

You hum, carding your fingers through his hair. "As I love you."

For the rest of the feast, you dance just at the edges of his fingertips, ensuring that you permeated his sights and senses despite it. A game. A dance. When he thanks revelries who congratulate him, who ask him of his adventures, you proudly stand beside him, dutiful as the wife that you are, spearing him with compliments as much as you can. Hands squeezing his arm, your oils swallowing him with your smell.

When dinner came, you take chances massaging his thigh, sliding a salacious grin that had him blushing, ever so sweet, green— making you wonder what kind of fucking bastards do that he finds your attention so swallowing.

You don't let up.

Whenever he, in turn made a move, you sidestep, flutter a smirk, a wink; always escaping, letting him grow frustrated as the night went on.

Your one respite from taunting him had been when he danced with his daughters, making a gallant show of asking them, even Jaehaera. Giggles and spins, the ladies of the court fawn and coo.

Even now, you're making him to be the perfect man. The endearing husband, the wondrous father, the brilliant prince, the perfect lord.

To execute your plan, it must be made with a surgical precision. A slice that guts him to his knees, that breaks his spirit and quenches the whispering, wicked madness nestling with your ire. On another cheek, he must remain upright and upstanding, as to keep your daughters' future in perfect order.

You catch the domineering gaze of Daemon Targaryen, idle as he is, on the side of his distracted Queen, talking to a highborn lady. You don't look away as you toast him your cup of Arbour Red before you pucker your lips for a taste. Your eyes move to where your husband is already looking, flushed red and sweaty from all the dancing, your girls, preening and giggling around him.

You tilt your chin at him, a challenge in your gaze, before you slowly pull your lips away from your wine, stained red.

His throat bobs.

It will be a long, arduous game. Full of pitfalls and tightened webbing. One trip can kill you. But once the machinations are in order, once everything and everyone is in their proper places... oh, you cannot wait for the dance the dragons will make.

A flutter, a simpered footstep. Then a rustle of a dress as one bows.

"My lady," Dyanna greets behind you.

"Hm?"

"The spiders in the ice have met the pup in the snow."

"And?"

"The pup is not suspicious, in fact, they might go as far as to say that the pup is lonely. Though others largely understand her existence... no one likes a bastard."

You snort. "No, they don't, do they?"

"The wolf cares for the pup though, and is largely protective of his only sister."

"Hm. Complicated, but not impossible. Have Meera change the tone of my missive. A softer edge. Sweet but not overtly. Ensure the prerogative of politeness. Then have it sent to the Rookery. The proper channels."

You sigh, taking the edge of your braid and twisting through the ribbons your maid tangled between them. Tonight, you had elected Targaryen colours. A black dress akin to scales and a low, exposed back and dipping front, held together in red ribbons and silver chains. One that might be too on the nose, but the constant, feverish stares from your husband made it worth it.

"We have to ensure a good relationship with the Warden of the North, don't you think so?" You have not looked away from your husband since your maid came, and as he whispered something in Daenera's ear, nodding off to her grandmother with Aemma towed, he turned towards you, one stride after another.

"Precisely what I thought, milady."

"Go," you order her for the last time, giving her your cup, just before Jacaerys reaches you.

Game, set.

Worshipping you has always been something Jace excelled at. At the least, his cock was much larger than most, and without the preparation of his tongue and mouth, it burned. At most, he oft found himself holding your shaking thighs, your head and shoulders left on the bed as he feasted on you like a man starved, hungered for your nectar, the sounds you make, and the shaking of your body as you reached your peak on his tongue.

"J-Jace, please, I—" Your breath stutters, a hiccup escaping your mouth, but he is not letting up. On his knees as only a lordling can with his back straight, he is holding your thighs, your lower back, eating your cunny for the third time of the night.

As soon as he had reached you, he grasped your waist, whispering against your hair in a rumbled groan, "You are torturing me so, my wife. We leave. Now."

"Now?" you echoed, amused. "This is a feast in your honour."

"My honour is already hanging by a thread. The revelry will go on without us. I want to have my fill of you."

And fill he had. He didn't even wait to get you out of your dress before he had pushed your skirt upward, gone on his knees, and got his tongue inside of you.

Now, you are overwhelmed, overstimulated as you are hazy, gripping the wrecked sheets as your peak reached you once more. A strangled, breathy cry of his name falls between your lips as your back arched impossibly so, and instead of letting up, this seemed to fuel him harder, the muscle of his mouth working harder inside of your cunt, hands digging into your flesh to keep you steady.

It builds with a stimulation unending, and just as you're on the throes of your last high, it builds again, quick and fast this time, shuddering gasps of, "o-oh gods, g-gods, Jace!" is the last thing you are able to shout before your fourth peak breaks against the shudders of your last one, your wetness exploding, and you start crying before he lets up.

Your blubber becomes laughter, and he is soft as he lies you down, massaging your thighs as you twitched. He hovers above you, running gentle hands across your arms, kneading through skin, before he reaches your face. He's still in most of his clothes, his long white shirt and breeches, but his mouth is covered in your wetness before he wipes it, obscene in the prettiness of his face and messy locks from where you had tugged and grabbed.

He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, so close to your body, all too tangled in your soul, and can feel his hard cock upright and wanting against your belly, but he pays it no mind. Concern mars his features as he brushes down your hair.

"Are you alright, my love? Too much?"

You shake your head, brushing your hand down his chest. "N-no, I am well. I just never did that before."

He smiles, kissing your closed eyelids before he brings you close to his chest, cuddling you deep. "You deserve all the pleasure I can give you," he says against your hair. "I have been gone far too long. Consider it my apology."

You hum, eyes open. "Apology for what? You were doing your duty, nothing more, ñuha zaldrīzes, my dragon." You feel him stiffen as you keep your voice soft, caring. "I understand duty far better than you. It is what I love most about you."

You look up, taking his chin between your fingertips as you stared at those warm, brown eyes. "You, who carries your honour like a shield and your duty like a sword. I feel as if the gods had blessed me a husband far better than I should have had for I know I do not deserve you."

"H-how can you say that? You are—" He swallows. "— You are the most excellent woman. The mother of my children. You... You are the one I do not deserve."

Your head falls back against his chest, gripping his shirt. Only by your teeth had you stop yourself from screaming.

You curdle, you keep, you poise.

"My love?"

But you pay him no mind, pushing him on his back as you straddle him, your hands working quick to unlace his breeches until his cock slaps against his stomach, end red and swollen. A sharp hiss falls from his lips as your hand tugs on it once. Twice.

He calls your name, spits it really, eyes blown with lust as he holds your waist, unsure if he should lift you off him or grind you against his aching cock.

"I want you inside me," you whimper, plead, feeling his cock twitch at your words, your false, yearning gaze. He mistakes the burned tears of anger in your eyes as unbridled want. "I have gone so long without your warmth, your cock, swelling inside me, your seed nestling deep, taking root—"

"Yes," he gasps, fingers digging into your doughy sides, pulling you up, moving you around whilst you grabbed his length and directed inside your wet, hot cunt inch by inch, filling you so thickly you can feel him in your throat. It takes time, patience and grit, but you're wet enough and you're determined. Once he's fully inside of you through a choked moan of your own, his neck arches, head thrown back. "Fuck! Yes, y-yes, there you are, my g-good fucking girl."

You move slow at first, taking him, bracing one hand on his knee, almost testing the feel him of back in the familiar contours of your cunt. Veins pop between each groan and choke that shudders through him whilst praise, your name, the possessive titles— my love, my wife, my princess — is spit in between.

When the heat tightens in your belly, you shift positions, placing both palms on his chest, and riding him without abandon, bouncing up and down as you watch with a sharp eye as his release builds. His hips move on their own, fucking up in you as you meet his thrusts with equal vigour, and it's delicious. It's heated. You grind your swollen folds against his mon and your cries make him thrust up harder into you, calling your name, denting your doughy hips.

You don't stop, your pleasure at the back of your mind, wanting him to unravel, to break— a final cry of your name dissolving into a choked moan, spilling his seed deep inside, the continuous snap of his hips digging it deeper into your womb.

But your last peak is still tightening, so you press a quick kiss on his chest, a bite really, before you continue to chase your own high, a hiss slipping his lips but moving your hips with his iron-grip, stutters of, "d-do it, reach your high, f-fuck! fuck!"— Your head throws back, nails digging his skin as your cunt clenches his cock in a vice grip, forcing his hips to snap up once more, twice, until you fall, slumping against him.

When he kisses the top of your head, murmuring words you ignore, you close your eyes.

Your plan is in motion. The missive will be sent to the Lord Stark, in pursuit of an innocent friendship. The spiders you have placed on the Northern bastard are set, and a dragon flies in Dragonstone with your bond in its blood.

Your Jace is home. He will fall in love with you all over again. His wonderful daughters and darling princess, he will regret the events that have transpired in the cold. In his head, he will make promises to do better, to be better, that whatever happened is a blip. A mistake that will not happen again. but you know, he will trip. He will wander once more.

But you will make sure that the next time he does so, he will regret it for the rest of his days.

Because it is not you who will burn Winterfell to the ground.

It will be him.

Your plan moves, your web is perfect.

Now, the spider waits for the idiot fucking flies to feed on.

TAGGED: @inkareds @marihoneywk @caterina-caterina @ahristata @xxvelvetxxxx @but-i-write-so-i-must-count @bunbunbl0gs @yazzzmints @bellstwd @hiraethrhapsody

#jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon fanfiction #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys velaryon x y/n #prince jacaerys #hotd jacaerys #dark!reader #jacaerys smut #jacaerys velaryon smut #jacaerys fanfic #jacaerys fanfiction #elle writes !! ꒱ ↷˗ˏˋ🍒#₊˚ପ⊹ hightower green 🕷

1K notes · View notes

loveemagicpeace · 2 months

Text

Synastry & Composite chart Part 2 🍬💍🍒

🦋Composite Chart🦋

☁️ASC : How the relationship started & how others / environment see you

☁️ASC ruler : Area of focused expression

☀️Sun : Indicates what brought you together and what goal you have in life

☀️Aspects to Sun : Shows purpose of the relationship supported or not

🌙Moon : Emotional connection & the soul of the relationship

🌱Mercury: communication, thinking and how they fit together in mindset

🍒Venus: how u two love and your love language together

🥨Mars: drive, anger & power, sexual attraction

🔥Jupiter: luck , gift, wisdom, traveling, exploration, growth

🪐Saturn: karmic things, honesty, responsibility, maturity of the relationship

❄️Uranus: difference, uniqueness, unpredictability, rebellion

🫀Pluto: intensity, depth, transformation

🧚🏼‍♀️Neptune: dream, fantasy, confusion, obscurity, illusion, lies

🍬Northnode : Indicates in what direction you should grow as couple

💕1st, 5th and 7th : Important houses in Composite

✨Aspects✨

Conjunction : Binding force, depending on the planets combined

Sextile : Harmonic union, comforting

Square : Challenge, No break-ups when you understand each other

Trine : Harmonic union, cooperating well together

Opposition : More prone to break-ups, attraction

💍7th houe shows what’s needed to make the relationship work.

☀️Sun : Need for balance in ego’s inorder to make it work. It’s a good placement for marriage, but it can quickly evolve into becoming open enemies if you are not willing to compromise and listen to each other.

🌙Moon : Emotional involvement is a strong theme. Giving security to each other is needed aswell as balancing the emotions of both people. Safe place and home of relationship.

🌱Mercury : Equally sharing is a theme. Communication is strong, but also the point that needs to be balanced inorder for it to work.

🍒Venus : A very good placement for all love relationships aswell as business related relationships. It’s important to find balance in giving & receiving.

🦋Venus & Neptune placed within the 7th house can indicate a relationship where it will feel so familiar, it’ll feel as though it is unreal and goes beyond this realm. Soulmate energy, especially in tribes, but any aspect. It could be hard to stay angry at one another.

🍬Neptune Conjunct Juno can indicate a twin flame/ soulmate energy. It could also feel as though you’ve been with this person before within past lives if you believe in that kind of thing. The connection will not be easy to let go of and will have something for the natives to learn.

🫐North Node in the 12th house can indicate a connection that may feel like a spiritual connection or could feel as though there is a significant purpose for the connection itself. Both can have dreams about each other that may reveal things about the relationship itself.

🥐Jupiter is in Conjunction to Saturn in a composite chart, it is normal to expect that you will never forget the connection whether it’s romantic or platonic. It could be an indication of staying together for a very long time or for even a short amount of time.

🐚Synastry chart🐚

💕Venus & mars are the most important indicators in relationship because Venus represents love and mars represent drive and passion and when the couple don't have aspects with the venus and mars. It's hard for relationship to survive.

🎡Moon square Mars -It can be challenging aspect because it suggests an emotionally intense nature. Two people can get along very well at one time, and hate each other intensely at other times. Sometimes they can't find a common point of emotions and energy.

🌁Asc square Venus- many times it indicates that when you see a person for the first time, you don't like them. Energy can be very strange and challenging. Later, emotions can develop and it becomes more calming.

🌆Pluto & mars in 4th house synastry -it shows the home you want to create with the person, how you want to live and how you see their family and they see you. Pluto can represent a great transformation that the person brings to your home, and you yourself can transform a lot through this relationship. You can also see how you really want to live with this. Many times, however, the pluto indicates that the mother of the 4th house person can be intense, mysterious and possibly treacherous. A lot of times she can do things in secret. Mars, on the other hand, can represent some internal conflict and more direct energy. That you may notice right away whether their family accepts you or not. Both planets together can represent a more combative side of the family and that many times you feel that things are going too far. Many times mom can be the reason for a fight between you.

🌱Moon in 10th house synastry- can be good or not. Depending on aspects. It can lead to responsible, serious emotions, but at the same time emotions can only come from success, career, practicality and you can feel that in this relationship and passion. You may have reservations before fully expressing yourself to the person and you may have the feeling that the person does not understand how you feel.

🛼Venus in 12th house- a spiritual connection, maybe a love meant to be found. You can meet a person in interesting circumstances. Many times, however, a person may be covering up their real relationships from before or certain secrets about money. A person may come forward in a completely different way than they really are. Love can be covered up, it can mean that no one really knows what is really going on. Sometimes it can lead to the person having you, delusions, or wanting to have you in any way.

✨Lilith in 12th house -lilith shows where the relationship can be the darkest and how the person wants to control you. This connection can bring about dramatic change and transformation. Lilith person may just seem to be out of control in their emotional expression. This can seem overwhelming and dramatic for House 12 person to deal with.

🪐North node conj saturn- karmic relationship means that you have a mission with this person in this life, which you have to complete.

🥨A lot of aspects with saturn means that this relationship is not necessarily something that you want, that will bring you something passionate or happy. It can mean a lot of responsibilities and lessons that can be very difficult. Maybe a relationship in which you can feel trapped.

🦋If relationship don’t have any 1st, 7th, 8th house it can mean that the relationship will not be so successful and you will always feel like you made the wrong decision.

🎸For personal readings u can sign up here: https://snipfeed.co/bekylibra 🎸

-Rebekah🧚🏼‍♀️🍬🐚

#astrology #energy #zodiac signs #planets #astrological houses #synastry chart #composite chart

540 notes · View notes

fics-lovebot · 8 months

Text

jungkook recs

main masterlist

pls remember to reblog if you like any of my recs❤️

e.r means established relationship

disclaimer: if you came back to read that one fic you liked but can´t find it, its bc the link wasn´t working anymore so I deleted it :/

yandere / mafia / bad boy

bloody love - smutty, king jk, evil jk, obsessed jk, posessive jk, blood thirsty jk like fr, he honestly loves bathing in the blood of those who did him wrong in his eyes, reader is lgb. this is an on going series but I´LL BE DAMNED IF IT ISN´T THE BEST THING I´VE READ in a minute!!, the writing its so captivating, not a single dull or boring moment, i can´t wait for the next part tbh

romantic dreams - yandere!jungkook, tattoo artist jk, boxer!jk, UGHH ITS GOODDD, he´s so toxic frfr, namjoon is sick of his ass lmao, totally obsessed with reader, jealous and possesive af, he´s crazy sdlfjs but i´m into it

toxic noona - yandere!noona, toxic controling relationship, jk is a victim, he´d rather die than leave, reader likes to make him cry, manipulation

crafting new memories - yandere!jk FR, stockholm syndrome, jk kiddnaped reader and fucks her while making her watch herself on the news,,,her own missing sign

twin flame bruise - twin!jk, jeon jeongguk and jeon jungkook, they look the same but are opposites, the one thing they have in common is you. it´s an on going series but I like how the plot is vvv different from what we´re used to

yours insanely - yandere!jk, serial killer jk, detective!reader, he kills women who look like you

darknet - yandere!jk, the internet is scary, human trafficking, jk is scary dangerous, it´s a LOT, just wow

who is in control? - yandere-ish, lawyer!jk, posessive jk, obsessive jk, toxic relationship, stalking, manipulation, secret relationship, he´s cray-cray

hybrid au / soulmate au / super hero au / alien au

his bunny - smut, fluff, bunny hybrid reader, fem reader, clingy reader

bunnytalk - bunny hybrid jk, owner reader, jk is a sad bunny bc reader won´t return his feelings but it´s all just a misunderstanding

night vision - e.r, alien!jk, suggestive, lowkey smut, bunny hybrid reader, jk has tentacles ,,,,,nothing else to say, flirty fluffy jk, this is dIFFERENTTTT i love it

closer - smut, step siblings au, noona reader, yandere!jk, jk is obsessed with him older step sister, WHEWWW this is intense, very detailed, loved it

slice of life / university au / idol jk

soju - fluff, shy baby hubby jk, reader cooks him his fav meal and he basically looks at her with heart eyes, i love it

you make him go crazy - fluff, idol!jk, slight angst, multiple scenarios, reader is constantly making him go nuts, he is STRESSED lmao, it´s cute anyways, reader is kind of a careless brat but jk wouldn´t have it any other way

you wear his clothes - fluff, thing is...HE gives you his clothes, he´s so boyfriendd

all my fault - angst, fluffy end, hubby jk, in which you pass out after an argument and find him crying when you wake up

call me soon - summer break up, strangers to fwb to lovers, obsessed jk

screw up; over wine - finance major jk x model!reader, first date drabble, he is really into reader so he takes her to a fancy pricey wine and dine but guess wHAT.. he is broke lmao so he straight up PANICS, lowkey highkey secondhand embarrasment but it´s jk so it ends in a cute way

kiss me better -angst, jerk jk, mean jk, misunderstanding, manhandling, he is crying bc he assumed she was cheating but he was sooo wrong, now he is begging, crying, throwing up,,, they make up anyways, its angsty in a satisfying way

you´re leaving me - angst af, hubby!jk, daddy!jk, he found divorce papers after an argument and thought the worse, he starts going crrrazy but as always, it´s a happy ending

snowball - fluff, angst, crack, implied E2L, flashback from their college days. this is part of an upcoming series, and I already love it bc wdym it was lovE at first sight?? galaxy in his eyes, artsy space love talks, fireworks exploding in his chest bc ur giggles are his fav soundddd and everything?? I am HERE for it. he lit spaces out, brain dead, no other thoughts but youyouyou and your pretty self

you´re sleepy but you promised you´d go grocery shopping with him - e.r, its cuteeeee

movie night monday -fluff, e.r, he is impatient lmao, clingy cuddly loving fluffy jk

couple questions with vogue - fluff, e.r, idol!jk, supermodel!reader, I LOVE THISSSS, he is the best boyfriend/fiancé soon to be hubby EVER UGHHHH its so cute

devoted to trouble - fluff, lil angst, smut, comedy, spiderman!jk au inspired by seven??? a masterpiecE. the world finds out he is spiderman but he dgaf bc he only cares about you, #pininggg, reader playing hard to get, man i love tHIS

show you what devotion is - boxer!jk, ballerina!reader, fluff, angst. you´re like his safe place, it´s giving exes to wannabe lovers, they deff like each other and jk wants to eat her uP but he´s wants it to be romantic and stuff, idk idk I liked itttt

you surprise him for his birthday - he´s so boyfriendddddd, this is so wholesome and cute

he can´t sleep bc he loves you so much - now THIS makes me want to drink bleach and die bc of how cute it is, THEY ARE SO IN LOVEEEE, there´s a lot of giggling, a lot of praising, a lot of disgustingly sweet loving talk after sex :´)))))) its such a good read i promise

fighting heart - boxer!jk, fluff, angst, he´s so stressed sldfkj, reader gets in a small accident and jk went crazy when a nurse answered your phone

make a wish - fluff, little smut, best friends to lovers, reader is so sweet, birthday surprise, jk shoots his shot, he only wants to spend his birthday with you

daft pretty boy - basketball cap!jk, classmates to lovers ig, see he´s smart but when he´s with you he gets nervous and forgets how to exist, he lowkey confesses and he´s sraightforward with itt, he´s got a hUGE crush on you lmao

ride - strangers to lovers, fluff, angst, jk is a fucc boy on campus, reader has tattoos and rides the coolest bike, jk has an instant crush, love at firts sight i would say, got him blushing and sweating lmao, this is an on going series but I KNOW it´ll be gREAT, I love it already

in your arms - e.r, fluff, smut, morning secs, waking up by his side for the first time after moving in

encore - game designer!jk, he is cool af, has a fat crush on reader, this is just the teaser of the fic but I really like it

crave you - idol!jk, crack, smut, fluff, hispanic choreographer reader, texting, taejikook, jk is HORNY but he´s a softie too, he´s got a big big fat crush, strenght kink bc we all know he can throw her around like a ragdoll

pretty girl - smut, tattoo artist!jk, chubby reader, THIS IS ITTTTT, he´s tall, dark and handsome, flirty af too, "pretty girl" stFUUUU, they both want to fuck so he shoots his shot at the tattoo appointment

easy - angsty, fuckboy jk, bet!trope, jk plays you so he can get his rent paid, i read this one a lawwngg time ago and decided i was an angst loving hoe

Inevitable - angst, fluff, smut, lovers to exes to lovers, baseball player!jk, dad!jk, parents au, you break up with jk years ago after you got pregnant bc you wanted him to follow his dreams and now he´s back home just to find out there´s a boy who looks just like him.. this is a masterpiece, honestly one of THEE best jk series out there, it has it all fr, the angst is angsty and the fluff is FLUFFY, i love it sm i´ve read it 3 times and never get tired of it

finish line -fluff, nerdy!jk, racer!jki loooooveee itttttt, so cute, so fluffy, this blurb uGHHHHH, just read the whole thing pls

ungodly hour - crack, smut, fluff, college au, broke college student!reader, lowkey slutty!reader, jk is thirsstttyyyyy, simping atp, "who´s dick do i have to suck for a hulu account?" this series is honestly so funny ksjakskjs

ceo au / sugardaddy au / rich bf au / coworker au

Over The Odds | The Confession - ceo jk, sugardaddy jk, jealous bf jk, sugar baby reader, he gets mad and yells bc he is lowkey insecure of her ex but reader is equaly in love. this is a series

wrong time - smut, angst, dilf!jk, ceo!jk, exes to lovers, workaholic as a scape mechanism, the one that got away type of stuff but she broke things up first for valid reasons, big big heartache but she´s still the love of his life

don´t blame me - sugar daddy!jk, ceo!jk, soft yan!jk, obsessive!jk, student!reader, unhealthy behavior on his part, manipulative behavior on her part, jealousy on both parts, he goes a lil too far but reader is bitchy and annoying, he lit gives her everythinggg she asks for, the man is..creazy about her in a very unhealthy way and she takes advantage of that, toxicc

failed quickie - cowerker jk, suggestive, they´re about to fucc on an elevator but it didn´t work, he likes his hair pulled!!1!

someone older -smut, ceo jk, divorced jk, 30 something yo jk, taehyung has a kid, younger oc, its a nice read, would do it again

break up au / cheating au / fuckboy au

night after night - smut, angst, crack, fluff, semi-retired fuckboy jk, red flag jk, stalker jk, break up au, lovers to exes to lovers, he fucked around and found out so he is FREAKING ouT, also he is beggING okk.. we love that, he also has a Harley bc he is bad boy™, they make up anyways bc he is pussy whipped.. or in love, whatevs you wanna call it

seven plus one - smut, angst, they break up for like a week and that shit got him SIMPING fr, standing under the rain begging and stuff, the man is obsessed, we love it

what could've been - smut, angst, rockstar jk, fuckboy jk, ex gf oc, he breaks her heart then leaves to become world famouse, the sees her again, they fuck, he wants to get back together bc he´s still in love but she does´t want him like that

pwp / fwb

woof, woof, woof - smut, angsty, kinda E2L, jealousy, toxic relationship, teasing , unprotected sex

you good?? - drabble, smut, "what if you gave jungkook head?" is righT bc i´ve been thinking about it for a min!!! he is mean ok yall know he is a brat buT, the head is too good to do all that, the man was shaKINg for godssakeee, so good he had to answer with a thumbs up bc reader drained him fr, left him so brain dead he couldn´t even speak

afterglow - smut, fwb!jk, slight possessive!jungkook, dirty talking, degrading nicknames, but he cares ok, he´s trying to get out of the friend zone

every side of you - very pwp, he is a rough sex loverrr, he compares readers moans with angelic melodies like??? he´s so romantic like that, but also: degrading dirty talk, he is rouGH alright, straight up clingy bf after sex, sweet loving talk + cute cute aftercare, he is just pERFECT

come sit on my lap - pwp, lots of praisingg, they way this is written is good yall, "use me" , “so polite” shUT UPPPP im literally blushing, AND he is also cute at the end?? i hate it heREEEE :´)

birthday gift - honoring his 26th birthday with this masterpiece, he like to talkkkk ok?? dirty talk, degrading nicknames kinda talk, "dumb bitch" kinda talk, growling while he calls you names, i was shook fr

he has a lot of cum - boyfriend!jk, the title I- , he DOES have a lot of cum, lots of stamina, lots of everYTHING, and on toP of those small details, wdym he wants to see how many times he can cum in you before it´s too full and it starts to spill????? somebody stop this man

riding jungkook´s nose - we´ve ALLL thought about this, and if you haven´t you´re lying, periodt. pRAISINGGG, he´s in a pussy-drunk frenezy, he likes feeling used, he likes getting his hair pulled, he likes getting his face wET, it´s sickenINGGGG goreaditplease

fucking in the gym - this was inspired by that one pic of him and jimin with their back out, I SEE THE VISION, fucking with ceiling mirrors

wicked - smut, incubus!jk, big big corruption kink, lots of dirty ploting and dirty talk, yupppp this is a good one, so detailed, love me a fic that lit makes me see what i´m reading

2K notes · View notes

peachdues · 22 days

Text

THE WIND AND MOON

PROLOGUE ♢ SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA X LUNAR PILLAR!READER

A/N: oh boy! The fic that started it all is back in progress (with a slight title change).

This will be a slightly canon-divergent AU, wherein Lunar Breathing is inherited and there's actually some power involved with the breathing techniques as a whole (as opposed to the styles just being nice sword movements with illustrations lmao).

Reader will be Sanemi's tsuguko for a time, and she will eventually become a Hashira. This is their story.

This will be a multi-part fic. Be warned: the Reader is a very morally gray character (but we love her for it).

@ghost-1-y thank you for reminding me of my love for this fic.

Massive CW: 18+, canon-typical violence, graphic violence, gore, child death, and implied S/A. Smut to come. MDNI.

Sanemi was there that day; the day she became part of the Corps.

The day her world ended.

It was fucking freezing that morning. The sky was a muted gray as snow drifted down from the heavens in wet, fat clumps. It had started sometime the previous night, and by the morning, the village had been covered in its thick blanket.

The carnage, however, was fresh, and so the snow was not white.

Only an hour had passed since the watery gray light of dawn bled into the sky from the east, when Sanemi’s crow swooped low over his head, tugging frantically at his hair. Beside him, the Flame Pillar ducked as his own crow joined the panic.

“Northeast! Northeast! Right at the base of the mountain! A horde of demons attacked the village!” They cried in tandem.

Not just one. A horde. A swarm of demons had descended upon a moderately populated merchant village, tearing it and its people to shreds.

Both the Wind and Flame Pillars furiously made their way northeast, one of the crows bleating that Tengen and Iguro were also en route. As they ran, the birds alternated in snaring what little information they had of the village, and what had prompted the attack.

It was because of her; or rather, her family.

The head of the village was a merchant known for his imports from the West. His success meant the village prospered as a whole, and it was popular for its numerous small shops and tea houses which lined the streets, always crowded with locals and travelers alike.

Demons had no use for money or exotic baubles; but Muzan Kibutsuji had a keen interest in obliterating Lunar Breathing from the world.

So he had.

The very merchant whose business prowess bolstered the local economy with his imports was directly descended from the clan which had created Lunar Breathing, Breath of Sun’s powerful, dark twin. The merchant was the youngest and only living relative of the aging head of the Lunar Clan, a retired Hashira who’d never taken a wife. But unlike the other breathing techniques, Lunar Breathing was an inherited talent, and without an heir, there would be no one to continue the great family’s legacy.

That burden was thus placed on the surviving eldest child of the merchant whose village both Sanemi and his comrade now rushed to.

There had been an elder son, Rengoku’s crow revealed, but he had died a few years prior from illness. And so, the merchant’s middle child was made the new heir, tasked with the mission of becoming a demon slayer so that she could continue on the Lunar Breathing tradition.

Her.

There was no word as to whether she had been present for the attack. Final Selection ended only a few days prior, and it was entirely possible that she either had been killed on the Mountain, or that she was still making her way back to the village, unaware that no one would be there to welcome her home.

There was certainly no greeting for the Pillars when they finally arrived at the mountain’s base. The village was eerily silent as Sanemi and Rengoku crossed over the small bridge abutting its ravine; still. Dawn had given way to a dark gray sky, and visibility was not ideal.

Not that it would’ve taken much effort to see the blood and gore that littered the village’s once lively streets.

“What on earth?” The Sound Pillar’s familiar voice broke the silence, as he and Iguro approached their comrades from the Eastern gate of the village. Behind them, trailed a group of nearly thirty Kakushi.

The Hashira slowly took in the nightmare around them, stunned into horrified silence as they beheld the level of destruction which had befallen the village just hours before.

“Kakushi. Spread out. Look for any survivors. They may be buried or hiding.” Rengoku’s voice was steady but uncharacteristically grave, his face stony and hard. “Shinuzagawa, we should make our way to the Lunar Merchant’s estate. We need to send word to the Clan head right away if-“

“You didn’t hear?” Iguro interjected. “The head of the Lunar House is dead.” Though the lower half of his face was covered, the anguish on the Serpent Pillar’s face was evident. “That’s where Uzui and I just came from. He was ripped to shreds.”

“Fuck,” Sanemi hissed, a toxic mixture of anger, guilt roiling in his gut. An entire clan — and entire village— had been decimated in a matter of hours, and no one had been able to protect them.

They hadn’t been able to protect them.

“Have we any word on the Lunar heir?” Rengoku asked quietly. Iguro and Uzui shook their heads. “Then she likely is lost, too.” The Flame Pillar turned back to Sanemi, his face a mirror of his own. “Let’s go.”

The snow and wind picked up just as the two swordsmen approached the Lunar Merchant’s manor, obscuring part of the wreckage before them. From the corner of his eye, Sanemi swore he spied movement out of the back corner of the estate, but when he turned to examine it, all was still.

Beflre he could inquire further, a sharp gasp to his right snapped his attention back to the Pillar at his side. But Rengoku was not looking at him; rather, he was staring directly ahead, right to the courtyard of the manor.

“Heavens above,” the Flame Hashira whispered.

Sanemi followed his gaze through what had been once-proud iron gates, though only half of it remained hinged. The other had been ripped from its stone setting, twisted by some unfathomable strength and thrown carelessly to the side. Just past the gate, Sanemi beheld a single, bloodied arm.

His heart dropped sickeningly to his stomach at what lay beyond it; for there was not an inch of ground that hadn’t been saturated with blood and bits of gore.

Chunks of flesh and torn limbs bearing harsh jagged teeth marks were strewn across the snowy garden. Broken glass and wood from the manor littered the ground, and the few walls that remained standing had been showered in a thick coat of crimson.

But the carnage did not end with the massacre on the courtyard. Sanemi forced himself to look upon the half-severed bodies of those who’d been stuck to the sloped roofing of the Manor, as though some demon had plucked fleeing humans from the yard to feast on them mid-air, adorning the handsome estate with a shower of bloodied entrails.

He did not notice the small group of Kakushi that had arrived at the Manor until he heard their gasps and cries of horror. Behind him, Sanemi heard one or two begin to retch, unable to stomach the carnage before them.

“Move!” Sanemi barked, his voice scratchy over the lump forming in his throat. “Fucking look for survivors! Anyone!”

A few paces ahead, Rengoku called up to the crows checking above. “Do you have a description of the heir?”

“She is around eighteen, Lord Rengoku!”

Not helpful, given that most of the bodies around them were unrecognizable. But it was something.

Rengoku turned back to Sanemi. “I will check inside the house. You!” Rengoku called to a small group of three Kakushi nearby, “With me!”

Sanemi continued to make his way through the debris and body parts in the courtyard, lifting stone and wood in hope that he might find someone — anyone — who had managed to hide. Yet that hope dimmed with every stone he turned, as he found only the scraps of the people who’d once called the Manor home.

He came across a large chunk of curved, chiseled stone that was half-embedded into the soft ground below. Grunting, Sanemi heaved the rock aside, thinking it was perhaps part of some fountain or statue.

His stomach lurched as the stone toppled heavily over. For there, crushed beneath the weight of the rock, was the small body of a child, severed completely at the torso. Her two halves lay next to one another, a ragged seam torn between the two as though pulled apart by force.

Sanemi felt the bile rise in his throat as his gaze fell upon the child’s face, utterly frozen in fear. Though death had snuffed out the light of life from her eyes, it had done nothing to conceal the terror she’d felt in her last moments, the girl’s mouth stretched wide, fixed in her final scream.

She was no older than ten.

He could not help it. Sanemi turned away from the grisly sight and vomited into the snow, every inch of him trembling. He wretched until his stomach was empty and his throat burned from the acid and strain of his dry-heaving.

With great effort, he managed to straighten, his breath short and choppy. But he forced his legs to carry him forward, though any hope that they would find the Lunar Heir or any survivor grew dimmer by the second.

Even as Hashira, Sanemi knew he’d never seen wreckage quite like this.

He neared the center of the courtyard, and halted before a large, circular stone inset that had been smashed to gravel, leaving only a single, large piece of rounded stone wall standing.

Found the fountain, Sanemi thought bitterly. Another sharp, icy gust of wind whipped its way through the courtyard, disturbing the little bit of snow that wasn’t packed down with the carnage. But the wind also stirred up something else, something dark and wispy.

Had the Wind Pillar’s lilac gaze been focused anywhere but that piece of stone, he would have missed it softly fluttering up before disappearing beneath the lip of the fountain.

Lips mashed into a tight line, Sanemi moved to examine the other side of the broken stone. As he did so, Rengoku reappeared on the outer steps of the engawa surrounding the Manor, a frown etched deeply on his face.

“Shinazugawa, something is off. The demons’ presence is obvious, but the house looks like it was ransacked— jewels, silks, valuables, all strewn about. Some of it seems to be missing —“

“I found her.” Sanemi bit out, gruffly. “The heir.”

It was her hair, Sanemi realized. Her hair was what had been disturbed by the wind, a few strands having drifted up before settling back down upon the bloodied shoulder of the lifeless girl collapsed before the fountain.

Had there not been a thick spread of red-stained snow and earth beneath her, Sanemi almost would have thought she’d been sleeping. Her face was almost devoid of any injury, save for a few fresh scratches along her jaw and temple. Her eyes were closed, long dark lashes tickling a soft, and unblemished cheek, as pale and smooth as the Moon. And there was a serenity to her expression, a calmness that posed a stark contrast to the chaos and horror which surrounded her.

The rest of her had not been left untouched. Sanemi noted that while she appeared to have maintained her limbs, her back was soaked in blood, no doubt the source of the large stain beneath her. Grimly, he noted that her blood still oozed from an unknown wound between her shoulders. Her left arm was stretched out before her, wrist bent at an unnatural angle, its skin mottled from a mixture of the cold and an attempt to bruise before her blood had ceased flowing in her veins.

Beneath the torn and bloodied haori around her shoulders, were a pair of pants and a fitted, long sleeved top which had clearly seen better days. Her clothes hosted various tears and stains, and she was so caked in blood and mud that it was difficult to further discern her body’s condition.

The crows had said the Lunar Heir was around eighteen years of age, but as Sanemi stared at her lifeless form, all he could think about was how small she looked; how young she’d been, when she lost her life to the brutality of demons.

The thought made his blood run cold.

“No doubt this is her,” Rengoku said heavily, nodding at wounds Sanemi had not noticed on her hands. Squinting, the Wind Pillar spied bruises and cuts in various stages of healing dotting her knuckles and fingers.

He suspected more lay beneath her soiled clothing.

“Final selection wounds,” the Flame Pillar confirmed. “She must have just returned from the mountain when the attack began. Perhaps she even stumbled into the middle of it.” Rengoku shook his head. “She didn’t stand a chance.”

It was well known that even if one survived final selection, they would likely descend the mountain with some degree of injury. Seven nights without access to shelter, food, or water was difficult enough, but the added danger of starving demons almost guaranteed that one would not emerge unscathed.

She must have been wounded, and severely enough to slow her return home by a few days. Even if she had the skill to hold her own against the swarm of demons that had attacked her village, whatever injuries she sustained during final selection likely sealed her fate.

Sanemi swore, looking over the last of the Lunar Breathing Clan, the acrid bite of guilt and pity seeping hotly into his veins. The poor girl survived the controlled horrors of final selection only to meet an even more grisly end at her home — where she was supposed to be safe.

Cruelty; utter cruelty, and a damn tragedy.

“She will get a Slayer’s burial, in the Master’s garden.” Rengoku declared firmly, raising his voice so the nearby Kakushi would hear. “She passed Final Selection; she’s one of us.”

“No,” Sanemi said, voice hoarse. “Bury her here with her family.” His eyes returned to the girl’s face, an inexplicable bitterness coating his tongue. “She fought to return to them; let her be with them.”

He lifted his eyes back up to the ochre gaze of the Flame Pillar. Rengoku stared at him for a long moment, before nodding, turning back to the Kakushi. “You heard Shinazugawa. Let’s give them all a proper burial.”

The Kakushi began to move, thorough and efficient even among the horror around them. Sanemi readied himself to assist, moving to stand when his eyes snagged on the girl’s torso, his gaze drawn to the sizeable swath of smooth skin that was exposed to the icy bite of the snow. His frown deepened as he took note of the odd way that her clothes sat around her exposed abdomen. The girl was half laid on her side, but the front of her shirt was bunched and twisted together, like it had been gathered and shoved out of the way.

His eyes lowered a fraction to the front of the girl’s pants. At first glance, all seemend normal, her trousers fitted at her hips, but that was precisely what caught his eye. The waistband on the girl’s pants slotted across her lower hips, not higher up on her waist as it should have been. One side was noticeably lower than the other, almost as though they’d nearly been tugged off.

Almost as if-

Sanemi felt the hairs on his body rise. Looking over the girl once more, he noted the suspicious lack of claw marks and bite marks to her body; the way that she seemed intact, compared to the bodies of her friends and family scattered in pieces around her.

And her blood — her blood appeared more fresh than what was caked in the snow around them, as though she’d been attacked right before the Corps arrived at the manor’s gate.

“Rengoku,” Sanemi said sharply, and the Flame Hashira was back at his side in an instant. Sanemi jutted his chin toward the girl’s body and Rengoku followed his gaze. He could see the gears turning in his comrade’s head, the owlish Slayer steadily taking note of the odd skew of her clothes and her lack of demon-like injuries.

“How many demons do you know that try to-,” Sanemi ground his teeth at the word that came to mind, his blood boiling hot. “Have their way with victims before eating them?”

“Not many,” Rengoku conceded darkly, a similar anger simmering in his eyes. “Though not unheard of. It is… rare. Most can’t resist their hunger.”

He fell silent for a moment, contemplating.

“Didn’t you say the house had looked ransacked?” Sanemi turned his gaze away from the girl and towards the broken doors of the manor.

Rengoku’s eyes widened. “Yes. As if someone came in and grabbed anything they could.”

Sanemi nodded. “Bandits. Probably heard about the attack and got excited to loot. Found a body that wasn’t completely torn apart by demons and tried to take advantage.”

Rather than bile, Sanemi felt anger, hot and lethal, threatening to spill out of him.

If he found them, they would receive no mercy, human or not.

Rengoku exhaled sharply through his nose, a weariness clouding over his features. “Though I don’t suppose we can really know for sure. There isn’t enough left of anyone else to compare.”

Rengoku clasped his hands in front of himself, and he closed his eyes, offering a small prayer for the girl. “Whatever happened to her, she’s gone now. Let us ensure she can rest.”

He turned to head back to where the Kakushi had begun digging graves for the deceased, leaving Sanemi alone once more.

He’d stared the spot where the girl’s body had lain long after a pair of Kakushi gently removed her to ready her for her burial, watching with hollow eyes and a hollow heart as the one of them — a female — tenderly brushed the girl’s hair from her face and straightened her haori. They’d crossed her arms over her middle and gingerly carried her to join the remains of her family.

Hers was the last of the graves to be prepared. The Kakushi were just beginning to pack the mud and snow over her body when one of them collapsed from exhaustion. The group resolved to take a small water break before finishing, and neither Shinazugawa nor Rengoku had the desire to object.

After all, digging nearly twenty graves was no easy task.

Both Hashira assisted with the effort, and their combined strength and stamina had streamlined the task considerably. While the Kakushi rested, Rengoku departed for the front gates to update Uzui and Iguro, who’d been dealing with the wreckage within the village, assisted by reinforcements of both Kakushi and lower rank slayers called in to assist with the clean up and burial.

In total, over two hundred graves were dug, and not a single survivor had been found.

It was a heavy day — perhaps one of the darkest in the Corp’s history, and its crowning poisoned jewel was the eradication of one of the oldest breathing styles.The news that there was one less defense against the demons was not a welcome one.

Sanemi had gone to the other side of the courtyard, away from the voices and graves and rising stink of death. Out of sight from any prying eyes, he found a tree and shoved his fist through it, clear to the other side. Splinters of bark exploded around his arm and bit into the skin around his knuckles and palm, but Sanemi could not find it in himself to care; he sought only to break through the silent numbness threatening to consume him.

Because he’d taken refuge on the other side of the courtyard, away from the new burial site, Sanemi did not see the hand and arm that shoved through the pile of earth resting atop the last grave. He did not see clawed fingers sinking into the mud and snow, desperately seeking purchase as the body attached to the arm hauled itself — herself — from beneath the earth, the remnants of her grave skittering to the side as she heaved her body out.

Sanemi did hear the terrified shriek of the Kakushi, and immediately he drew his sword. In the distance, he could hear Rengoku roaring orders at the terrified attendants, though he could not discern the specifics.

The Wind Pillar came into view of the gravesite right as the girl spilled out from the hole in the ground, using her bare hands to pull herself forward as the rest of her body remained limp.

Sanemi Shinazugawa was not a pious man; in fact, he considered himself rather skeptical of the idea of faith. If there were truly any gods out there, then Sanemi wanted nothing to do with them. They chose to let chaos and devastation run rampant. They chose to let demons exists.

But hell apparently had frozen over, and Sanemi found himself offering a prayer for the girl’s forgiveness as he prepared to behead her demonized form. He hoped she would understand; after all, she’d joined the Corps intending to rid of the world of the very thing she’d now become.

It was what he hoped one his his fellow Hashira would do for him, if he ever found himself in that situation.

As the Swordsman cocked his blade, ready to strike the crawling demon from behind, Rengoku cried out. “Shinazugawa, NO!”

Sanemi stuttered, his arm in mid-swing as he neared the demon’s neck. A flash of violet and white shot towards him, and a piercing shriek of metal tore through the sky as Uzui’s blade parried his, the force of the clash knocking him out of the air. A frustrated grunt echoed from his chest, and with great effort, Sanemi twisted mid-air to avoid falling flat on his ass, just barely managing to land swiftly on the balls of his feet.

“What the fuck,-“ His vicious snarl faltered at the expression on the Flame Hashira’s face, frozen and gaping. In that moment, Sanemi’s ears picked up on the faint thumping of a heart beating rapidly and unevenly below him. His nose suddenly burned with the strong scent of iron. The stench of blood so metallic that it could not have been anything but fresh.

Ears ringing, the Wind Pillar shoved past his stupefied comrades. Only when he was face to face with her did Sanemi finally understand why the Flame Pillar had been so desperate to stop his sword from hitting its mark.

The three Hashira were not looking at a newly turned and bloodthirsty demon. Instead, dragging her way across the bloodstained, muddied snow, was the Lunar Heir, deathly pale and trembling..

The girl whose death they feared doomed the Lunar Breathing House had clawed her way out from her grave with nothing but her hands and sheer will. She’d not been dead, after all.

Slowly, so slowly, her eyes lifted to glare up at the one standing directly before her. Though she strained to raise her head more than half an inch, her silver eyes met Sanemi’s lavender gaze, and a violent chill shot up his spine as he beheld what simmered within them.

Defiance.

Pain.

Rage. So, so much rage, relentless and raw. And so very human.

She reached another quivering hand out before her to further drag herself away from her tomb. A thin sheen of sweat coated her pallid skin, and fresh crimson began to seep into the snow beneath her.

Sanemi’s eyes flit to the stain on her back, where fresh blood oozed from the deep wound.

She was panting, clearly fighting every urge in her body to give in, to let death beckon her back into its sweet embrace.

“I-I’m not dead!” She grit out in between shallow, uneven breaths, her jaw clenched tightly enough to crack her teeth.

The three Hashira remained dumb and silent for half a heartbeat before-

“What are you all standing there for?” Uzui bellowed. “Help her!”

The Kakushi sputtered into action, several of them crouching down around the girl to aid her.

“Don’t touch me!” She screamed, eyes screwed shut and her head bowed defensively over her hands as she clenched her fists into the earth. The Kakushi fell back, looking anxiously to the Pillars to await further orders, but even they were at a loss. After several, harsh breaths through her nose, the Lunar Heir turned her face up, her gaze clashing with Sanemi’s once more.

He recognized the fear in her eyes, visceral and deep. Whatever she’d experienced over the last few hours had overtaken all her senses. She had no logic, no ability to rationalize that she was among other humans, among comrades.

Instead, all that drove her now was the primal instinct to survive.

And to her, they were another threat.

She continued to try and crawl away from them, but her movements grew even shakier, more unstable, as the blood loss combined with her physical exhaustion. Rengoku caught his comrades’ eyes, waiting to confirm their next move.

A quick shared nod sent Sanemi stepping quietly into her blindspot. Swiftly, the Wind Pillar struck the pressure point on the back of the woman’s neck with his hand, and she crumpled against the ground, unconscious and still. Gingerly, Sanemi lifted her over his shoulder, mindful of the open wound on her back.

Once she was secured, the Hashira and their Kakushi began their frantic sprint toward the Butterfly Mansion.

COMMENTS/LIKES/REBLOGS ALWAYS APPRECIATED!

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #sanemi shinazugawa #kny #kny x reader #kny fanfic #kny sanemi #sanemi x reader #kn y smut #demon slayer smut #shinazugawa sanemi #demon slayer fic #demon slayer fanfic

406 notes · View notes

tiredmamaissy · 1 year

Text

Hi! I'm issy. Welcome to my nsfw blog. All my works are intended for adult consumption only. If you are a minor, i.e. under the age of 18, please do not interact. If I suspect you’re a minor, you will be blocked. If you are of age, and you're interested in literature about blue fictional aliens, then I hope you enjoy! Here, you can access all of my current and upcoming works, and other general information. Please do not repost any of my works to any other site without my permission.

⊱Heats/Ruts/Knotting Info ⊱Request Rules/Info [currently closed] ⊱Writing Help ⊱AO3 ⊱Wattpad ⊱All characters are of age, or aged up.

⸻Neteyam Sully

Neteyam's First Rut Series:

⊱Chapter I: Neteyam's First Rut ⊱Chapter II: Tying the Knot ⊱Chapter III: The Heat Within ⊱Chapter IV: A Synchronous Fever ⊱Chapter V: With My Life ⊱Chapter VI: To Set Ablaze ⊱Chapter VII: Moment of Truth

Special Episodes:

⊱Special Ep. I - Insaitable ⊱Special Ep. II - At First Sight [prequel]

Sub-Neteyam:

⊱Sub-Neteyam One Shot - Bound (bdsm; edging) ⊱Sub-Neteyam One Shot - Hide and Peek (exhibition kink)

Dom-Neteyam:

⊱Forgiven - Forgive Me Part II (mirror sex)

Misc. Neteyam:

⊱Jealous-Neteyam One Shot - Eyes for You ⊱Comforting-Neteyam One Shot - All Your Curves

Clingy Neteyam:

⊱Part I ⊱Part II ⊱Part III

⸻Lo'ak Sully

Non-Unrequited Love Trilogy (lo’ak in rut):

⊱Part I - slight smut ⊱Part II - pure smut ⊱Part III - smutty smut

Special Episodes:

⊱Special Ep. I - Inextinguishable ⊱Special Ep. II - Twin Flame [double pov] ⊱Special Ep. III - Ashes [double pov]

Sub-Lo'ak:

⊱Sub-Lo'ak One Shot - Prized Obsession (edging lo'ak)

Dom-Lo’ak:

⊱Is that So? ⊱Handle Me - Part I ⊱ Part II

⸻Neteyam Sully + Lo'ak Sully

Make Your Choice Mini Series (w/ alternative endings):

⊱Make Your Choice: Part I ⊱ Part II (possibly dark) ⊱Make Your Choice Endings: Neteyam ⊱ Lo'ak ⊱ Both

⸻Ao'nung

Ao'nung in Rut:

⊱Behind the Façade Part I ⊱Behind the Façade Part II (coming soon)

⸻Rotxo

⊱Sub-Rotxo One Shot: Feel Better

⸻Jake Sully

⊱Forgive Me ft. Neteyam Sully (dark) ; Part II ⊱Little Secret ft. Lo'ak Sully (dark) ; part II (coming soon)

⊱A Night to Remember - Birthday Sex (for my dani <3)

⸻Ralak te Sepwan Ieyk (collab w/ @zestys-stuff)

⊱Chapter I ⊱Chapter II ⊱Chapter III ⊱Chapter IV ⊱Chapter V

Special Episodes:

⊱Special Ep. I - Ralak’s First Rut ⊱Special Ep. II - Concurrent Tides ⊱Special Ep. III - Calm After the Storm ⊱Special Ep. IV - Seed of Life ⊱Special Ep. V - TBA (coming soon) ⊱Special Ep. VI - TBA (coming soon)

⸻HighIssyTalks (click me)

⊱blurbs/drabbles ⊱get to know me ⊱high questions + answers + thoughts ⊱neteyam talks ⊱aonung talks ⊱loak talks ⊱jake talks ⊱read it all under #high issy talks

⸻NSFW Alphabet

⊱Lo'ak Sully + Neteyam Sully ⊱Tonowari + Jake Sully (coming soon)

⸻My Emoji Anons

⊱🐬🦩📖⚡️🍪⚰️💍🙊💦🫧🩰🧿🪅🕸🦋🦦🌳 🏹 🏵️ 🧜‍♀️ 🍱 🔮🌵❤️‍🔥 🥮🌱🐋🐚🍀 🌹 🤺👄 🌺🩷

#high issy talks #lo'ak avatar #avatar way of water #avatar #avatar x you #avatar smut #lo'ak x reader #lo'ak fanfiction #lo'ak sully #lo'ak x y/n #loak smut #neteyam sully #neteyam #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam x you #neteyam smut

4K notes · View notes

in-class-daydreams · 5 months

Text

Just Between Us (Satoru Gojo x Reader)

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Utahime!Reader Synopsis: You possess a coveted ability, the Blessed Womb, meaning your offspring will bear any and all cursed techniques in their father's bloodline. As such, you've lived a life isolated from society, to protect your rare capability. But what about you? Is that all you are? A womb? You refuse to be reduced to what your body can do. You and Satoru Gojo were born on the same cold day in December 1989. The Universe seems to have designed you to be twin flames, but by now you happen to resent the Universe making all your decisions for you. Set around the beginning of the school year of Gojo's second year of high school. Notes/TW: Toxic patriarchy & arranged marriage culture. Reader is sheltered to an abusive degree. Some mentions of blood. Gojo and reader argue a whole bunch and yes, that's a warning. Fem pronouns used and the reader has a uterus for plot reasons.

“The hell do you mean you kissed Geto?” you shout at Gojo.

You sat at your vanity, painstakingly plucking pins from the elaborate updo that the maids put your hair into. Your personal attendant, Miwako, would have a heart attack with how harsh you were being with her labor of love, but she had enough survival instincts to leave you and Gojo be. This wasn’t the first fight of yours she’d been in proximity to, and it wouldn’t be the last.

The boy in question leans against your dresser. He’s still wearing his school uniform, not even having the decency to change clothes for your birthday ceremony while you’d been getting trussed up like a Christmas ham since 6 am.

“Technically, he kissed me. And it was just the one time,” he drawls. Your oldest friend stares off into space, likely reminiscing the feeling of kissing one Suguru Geto. You’d never seen the man, since he never had a reason to visit the Utahime Estate and you weren’t allowed to leave. Gojo would have shown you pictures, if your clan elders allowed any blue light on the premises.

You pointedly avoid his gaze - he wasn’t paying attention to you anyhow, probably too busy thinking about Geto - and busy yourself with dismantling the amalgamation of clips and pins that was your hairstyle.

“You’re mad,” Gojo says.

“What would I be mad for, Satoru?” you reply simply.

He counts on his fingers. “First, you’re not looking at me. Second, you called me ‘Satoru,’ and third, I know everything about you, I know when you’re mad.”

You resent that. Gojo was always under the assumption that he knew, as he said, “everything about you,” and you were always positive that he was full of it. He might have been your oldest friend, and he was a significant part of your life, but in light of all the “fate this” and “destiny that” talk from just about everyone you’ve ever met, you were adamant that your thoughts were your own.

You and Satoru Gojo were born on the same cold day in December 1989. The heir to the Gojo Clan first opened his eyes around 6 am, just as the sun broke the horizon and turned the sea of indigo night to golden morning. You, who would be imbued with the Blessed Womb and therefore responsible for the fate of the Utahime Clan, filled your mother’s bedroom with your newborn wails just before 5 pm, when the orange and periwinkle and blue and blush were being covered in a blanket of night. The sight of you brought tears to your big sister’s eyes.

The two of you were introduced to each other as soon as possible, swaddled in your respective blankets and placed beside each other. What your clans envisioned, you’d never know, but baby Satoru wailed in his mother’s arms until his swaddle made contact with yours. All froze in stunned silence when you both immediately fell into a peaceful slumber. It was as if the stars made you to be two parts of a whole.

Within that year, when you were having trouble learning to roll over, you finally did so to come face to face with him. Months later, his first steps were towards you. His mother liked to say that you were a cosmic match, and she guessed that your mother would have said the same thing, had she survived your birth.

The two of you were a fairytale straight out of a storybook.

You would come to resent that.

Where was your own agency? Were you to inevitably fall for a man whom destiny chose for you? What about what you wanted? Why did you not have a say in the universe’s great plan for you?

But none of that mattered, for as you grew older and the true nature of your Blessed Womb came to light, each scrap of autonomy you possessed was stripped away. For much of your childhood, you shared a joint birthday party, alternating between estates each year. As soon as it was up to him, Satoru decided that any celebrations would be just about you. Maybe he believed he was doing you a favor, but all that did was concentrate all the public scrutiny onto you.

You click your tongue. “Yeah, well, you’re free to do whatever you want. I’m happy for you and your new boyfriend.”

“It’s not like that,” he says.

A bobby pin slips from your grip and flings into the mirror, bouncing to the ground. You grunt in frustration and spin around to face him.

“What’s it like, then?” you demand.

He raises his hands up in defense. “It felt weird! We’re good where we’re at, and– Look, I’m not a mind reader, okay? You say with your mouth that you’re happy for me, and then you act pissed off. Which is it and what do you want from me?”

When you try to look away again, he leans the same way, forcing himself into your field of view every time you turn your head.

“Are you mad you’re not my first kiss? Is that it?” You pause at his question and stare at him blankly. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he adds, “You’re my first everything else, princess, you can’t let someone else have this one?”

You grab the first thing within reach - a pretty metal claw clip - and fling it at him. He catches it easily.

“Shut up! You’re so–!” you shout, unable to find an insult suitable for the ire you feel. “You’re so!”

“Full of myself?” he helpfully supplies.

“Don’t put words in my mouth!” you snap. “You’re so damn full of yourself, it’s a wonder you have room for anyone else!” You turn your back to him. “Maybe you don’t.”

The house servants, and probably your sister if she was in her room, were plenty used to yours and Gojo’s spats by now. You heard from a particularly loose-lipped new maid that there’s a running tally in the staff quarters keeping score of who wins your arguments. She wouldn’t say more, but you like to believe that you’re winning. “Don’t think I care who you put your thin, crusty lips–”

“My lips are soft and supple!”

“Thin–” you emphasize. “--crusty lips on! You can kiss my grandmother for all I care, if she lets you anywhere near her.”

“Grandma Utahime wishes she could get herself a taste of this!”

“Whatever!” You rubbed your temples and tried to will away what you called your “Gojo Headache.” All the headaches caused by him stretched all the way across your forehead and somehow made your jaw ache. They were unmistakable and exclusive.

“See, that’s what pisses me off,” Gojo says, gesturing with one hand. “We argue and when you don’t want to argue any more, you just say ‘whatever’ and nothing gets solved.”

“What part of me not wanting to argue any more do you not understand? You’re so stubborn, it’s not worth it!” you reply.

There’s a light knock at the door. Through it, you hear Miwako’s muffled voice bid you goodnight.

She can’t see you, but you lower your head and speak as soft and sweet as possible. “Thank you, Miwako. Sleep well, and thank you for attending me today.” Then you turn back to Satoru. “But if you’re going to be a pain in the ass about it–”

“I’m the pain in the ass?”

“-- I’ll tell you why I’m mad! I woke up this morning, drank that nasty red ginseng tea, got in the tub, got every inch of me scrubbed down and then lotioned. The attendants brought me into the main hall where I sat and did tea ceremony while the jujutsu clans paraded their men around in front of me, insisting that my grandmother - not me - agrees to a marriage alliance to unite the clans.” Gojo opens his mouth to speak, but you’re not done. “Iori refused to make eye contact with me all day - just like she does every year on my birthday - so the last person I was counting on was you! So excuse me if I’m upset that you showed up late, made me face the Kamo Clan, Naoya Zenin, and the Inumaki Clan’s ten year old successor on my own, then had the audacity to come in and act like it’s fine to talk about your love life like everything is fine and dandy for us both, because it isn’t! It’s just great for you!”

You take a deep breath, panting by now. It’s been a while since you ripped Gojo a genuine new one. Usually, the two of you have minor spats over things you can’t remember and call it a day. The two of you don’t even apologize, you just move on.

The problem was, things would always be harder on you than him. While you sympathized with the insurmountable pressure he must be feeling as the heir of both of his clan’s techniques, he was a man. In the archaic values of the jujutsu upper nobility, he would be free to make more of his own decisions in one day than you would in your entire life. That, and he wasn’t cursed with a Blessed Womb.

You’re still shaking with rage when you glance at Gojo. Even behind his blackout shades, you can see that his eyes are blown wide. But when he finally formulates a reply, you decide that there’s nothing he can say right now that won’t piss you off, so you go over to the window and check outside to see if the coast is clear.

Over your shoulder, you tell him, “Go home, Satoru, every time you open your mouth, you piss me off.”

You throw a leg over the sill and heave yourself up. Gojo follows close behind.

“As if I ever let you boss me around,” he scoffs. He holds a hand out for you to stabilize yourself and you swat it away.

Bringing the other leg over, you land in the grass with a quiet thump. “Point proven,” you deadpan.

Gojo doesn’t even need to use his hands to help him. They remain in his pockets as he takes a high step through the window and easily slips out behind you. It’s an awkward fit for him with limbs as unwieldy as his.

You stalk off through the darkness to the edge of the estate. You quietly slip through and make your way down the path towards gardens. Not many flowers are in bloom this time of year, but the hedges stand tall and obscure you from view of the house.

Gojo ambled along beside you, leaned far back with his questionable posture. You don’t hate him, despite how vicious your fights could be. He was the only person who didn’t treat you differently from everyone else. Funny, considering he was more tied to your existence than anyone else. Even if he liked to push your buttons, he saw you for you, not what you were cursed with.

You were only four years old when extensive genetic testing revealed that you were imbued with an exceedingly rare, ancient power your clan took to calling the Blessed Womb. After studying the signs of its manifestation, the direction of the entire clan became geared towards finding you an auspicious match.

The major jujutsu clans, and many of the minor ones, possessed more than one cursed technique per clan. However, it was rare for any one sorcerer to be born with talents in more than one technique, Satoru being the first in generations to possess both the Six Eyes and Limitless. Precedence and sparse written records dictated that if you coupled with a jujutsu sorcerer, your offspring was not only guaranteed to possess whatever your own abilities were, but they’d manifest any and all of their father’s techniques as well.

Needless to say, the sharks frenzied once word got out.

You flop down in the grass and lay on your back to look up at the night sky. The estate was more isolated from the city and had no electric lights. The stars twinkled above, and you almost felt sorry for cursing them so. Emphasis on almost, seeing as they had no qualms about doing the same to you.

“Who cares about the yearly marriage exhibition?” Gojo asked. He joined you in the grass, leaning back on his hands. “When the time comes, you’re just gonna marry me, right?” When you don’t reply, he continues, “We were born on the same day, these superstitious old crones wouldn’t go back on that.”

“Shut up, Satoru,” you think to yourself. Not that he would have, had you said it aloud.

“We marry, you don’t have to deal with them ever again, and you’re free,” he says like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “You can even get a boyfriend, if you want, I don’t mind.”

“And then what, Satoru?” You can’t keep the irritation out of your voice. “We live complacently in our loveless marriage and I help you rebuild your clan, give you an heir even stronger than you, and we all live happily ever after? You, me, and our respective side pieces?”

Satoru goes quiet. For all the times you’ve told him to shut his mouth, his silence puts a pit in your stomach. The air doesn’t feel quite right without his voice.

“Hey, I–”

“I thought we knew each other better than that,” he says quietly.

Something ugly wells inside you. A warped monster born of feelings you locked away years ago. It lived in the dark, starving, uncared for until it morphed into a malicious caricature of what it used to be.

No matter what you feared you felt, you couldn’t love Satoru Gojo. Period.

One day, you’d be free. You would withhold the usage of your Blessed Womb from the world. You would go childless to maintain scraps of your autonomy, and you’d learn to live your own life. Study jujutsu sorcery, rent an apartment you could decorate. Anything to stop feeling like you were being jerked around by fate.

As for Gojo, he wanted a family. Something to call his own, where he didn’t have to be the strongest. He could just be Satoru. And to accept that life with him would mean compromising your own desires. Besides, was your love for him a choice you made or was it yet another thing fate wanted to force upon you?

“I’m sorry,” you say, because you are. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know what you meant.”

He lies down on his side facing you. You respond in kind, rolling over to face him just like the first time when you were children.

Your clan would be scandalized by your proximity. His warm breath tickles your face. He smells of crushed spearmint and clean linen.

Funny how if your lives weren’t so intertwined, you might’ve let yourself love him fully.

Gojo leans forward slowly enough for you to pull back if you want. Against your better judgment, you don’t. He stops and it becomes quickly apparent that he won’t move any further. If you want this, you have to close the gap.

All you want is to close your eyes and surge forward, pressing your lips to his. You imagine they’re soft as he claimed and you’d know you’re in trouble when the butterflies aren’t just in your stomach. They’d be splashed across your nose, collecting in your fingertips, and fluttering down your legs, and just like that, you’d be his.

You can’t have that, now, can you?

Gojo’s eyes snap open when your warmth disappears. You sit up and he follows suit, looking more uncertain than you’d ever seen him.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks and you shake your head furiously, both as a response and to clear your head.

Avoiding his gaze, you reply, “No?”

“Is that a question or?”

“Look, Satoru, we’ve had a lot of firsts together and today was the first time we didn’t, right?” You rip up the grass beneath you in your fingers.

Gojo jumps to his feet, furious. “No way you’re punishing me for what happened with Suguru!”

“I’m not punishing you for shit!” You throw your hands up in the air. “Can’t I say two sentences without you interrupting me?”

“Then talk!” Gojo shouts back, uncaring that the two of you could be heard. “Explain to me what your problem is!”

“I’m surprised you wanna hear it, at this point!” you retort, getting to your feet.

“Of course I do! I always do when it’s you!”

“All I’m saying is maybe we don’t have to be each other’s firsts for everything! You got to have your first kiss with your first love, so I want to save mine for the same!” you finish.

Gojo freezes, and you take that to mean you’re right on the money.

“I–” you run a hand through your hair. “I know you like you know me. And I’ve never heard you talk about anyone or anything the way you talk about him, so. Yeah. I’m not mad, Toru. I promise. I am happy for you.”

His face is unreadable, which is saying something coming from you. Your oldest friend looks a mix of incredulous, confused, and something else you can’t place.

He shakes his head. More. And he keeps shaking it until you think his eyes are going to fall out.

“You know what, I–” He groans in frustration. “You’re impossible, you know that? I’m not mad you don’t want to kiss me, that’s fine, that’s up to you, I would never hold that against you in this lifetime or the next or the dozen after that, but my problem is with everything else you just said!”

“Who said I don’t want to kiss you, Toru? Don’t put words in my mouth!” you reply.

“Is that the only thing you listened to?”

Something inhuman screeches near the front gate, effectively cutting off the conversation at hand. You pale. With someone as valuable as you on the premises, the Utahime Estate had state-of-the-art protections in place. Nothing unauthorized should have been able to make it anywhere near.

Gojo puts his glasses back on. “Stay here.”

“What? No, I’m coming with you!” you insist, but he’s not having it.

“Just because I taught you to fight doesn’t mean I want you doing it! Stay here!” And with that, Gojo runs off into the night.

You watch him take a few steps then disappear and not for the first time, you wish you could teleport, too. Reaching into your sleeve, you pull a spool of red thread from a small pocket inside.

Seconds later, their hair on your arms stand on end and a sense of foreboding overtakes you. You hear a low growl behind you and smile. Time to put Gojo’s teachings to the test.

Your clanmates find you right where Gojo left you, panting and covered with curse blood and unidentifiable chunks. Red threads hang tangled and limp from both your hands.

The clan’s matriarch, your grandmother, shuffles up to you and grabs your chin, tilting it from side to side searching for blemishes of any sort. Meanwhile, the rest of the clan fussed over how a curse could have made it past the protections.

“Where’s Toru?” you ask tiredly. The cursed spirit that attempted to ambush you was relatively easy to beat, large, but awkward and slow-moving, but it still took some movement on your part to dispatch it. You could only hope that Gojo didn’t meet anything too menacing.

Right on cue, because he loved to make an entrance, Gojo strolled across the yard, hands in his pockets like it was a warm, sunny day in the park and not nearly midnight. But what really caught your clan’s attention was the tall, wide older man marching at his side. You’d never seen him before and you couldn’t recall Gojo mentioning him in any of his stories from school.

Gojo walks right through the small crowd and stopped in front of you and your grandmother.

“Everyone, I’d like you all to meet my teacher, Mr. Masamichi Yaga,” he says.

The older man bows to the matriarch. “As Gojo said, I’m a second-year instructor at Tokyo Jujutsu High.”

Your grandmother gives a withering stare of disapproval. “And I assume Satoru has a very good reason for bringing an unauthorized adult man onto my estate, especially with my granddaughter present.”

With an appearance as painstakingly maintained as yours, you and your clan quickly learned that the men that got to be in your presence required strict curating, lest the wrong man get the wrong idea.

“Actually, I’m here because of your granddaughter,” Yaga says.

“What would a jujutsu instructor possibly want with her?” When your grandmother asked questions, it wasn’t because she needed an answer. More often than not, she’d already put two and two together and was seeing if they had the balls to say it aloud for her.

“I mean, she just slayed a Grade 2 cursed spirit, so,” Gojo shrugs.

Everyone who knew of Satoru Gojo had an opinion of him, and people could say what they wanted, but if nothing else, he was a gifted instructor. Every movement during your fight felt comfortable, confident, controlled.

“Lady Utahime, it is as good as law that those who possess a cursed technique must attend formal schooling in jujutsu sorcery,” Yaga explains something she knows full well.

Your grandmother gives him a long look, then glares at you.

“It seems as though she’s picked up a thing or two on her own.” Her gaze pierces through Gojo and it was unclear who truly possessed the Six-Eyes. To his credit, though, he just smiled at her guilelessly. She clicked her tongue. “Well played, Satoru.” To you, she says, “You will perform your full duty to the clan. We did not spend generations building our life only for you to squander it with your selfishness.”

You blink. “Yes, grandmother.” You’re honestly lost at this point.

“Pack your things, get out of my sight. Yaga, come with me to discuss terms.” She turns to head back towards the house with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Let us pray that Satoru Gojo truly is the strongest.”

The rest of the entourage follows close behind her. You watch them go until Gojo slings an arm over your shoulders, nonplussed by the blood and entrails still covering you.

“Yay! Let’s go pack your stuff!” He drags you towards your room. “You can live right next to me, and whatever you don’t have, we can buy in the city, my treat!” He cheers.

“Hold on!” You pull back and easily slip out of his grasp. Clearly he only meant to guide you and you were always free to escape his hold. “What am I missing here?”

Gojo grins boyishly and takes you by the hands.

“Starting right now, you’re going to be a student at Jujustu High!” he announces.

Your jaw goes slack. “What? I can’t! I’ve never even left the estate! My grandmother would never agree to this!”

Taking one hand and dropping the other, Gojo pulls you - more gently - towards your room.

“She just did. Now, come on! Before she changes her mind!”

As you struggle to keep up with his long strides, the pieces begin to come together in your mind. Your grandmother was always very strict, to say the least, and she insisted that you complete your duty to the clan. Since birth, it had been drilled into your head that your bride price, along with other gifts of good will and an alliance with another clan, would single handedly revive your dying clan. To be fair, you could see the logic. You only wished you didn’t have to sacrifice every aspect of your life.

But maintaining your beauty was a show of wealth. Your Blessed Womb would be plenty to secure everything the clan needed. With it, even if you had one eye and three noses, you’d have a barrage of suitors.

What’s more, doctors concluded that your unnaturally high output of cursed energy was the key component in your mother’s death during your birth. Grandmother hadn’t done anything about it yet, but it was the general consensus that if you had a strong control of your own technique, your chances of surviving childbirth were much higher. There was just that one final push to force your grandmother to relinquish control of you.

“Those curses didn’t break through our defenses,” you say in realization. “You let it in. That’s how Mr. Yaga was here.”

Gojo doesn’t turn back, but you can see his cheeks shift with his smile.

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” he says.

“That’s why you were late today,” you say quietly. A pit grows in your stomach. “You were setting all this up.”

He squeezes your hand and guides you into your bedroom. He lets you go and flops onto your bed, arms and legs spread like a starfish.

“I promised I’d help you be free of this estate one day. Remember what you said to me a couple years ago?” he asks.

Forcing yourself to move, you pull out the necessities and throw them on the bed. “Not really, no.”

“You said, and I quote,” he took on a high-pitched falsetto, “”If I spent all my time waiting for a man to rescue me, I’d never get anything done.” Do you remember that?”

Vividly, but you decide he doesn’t need to know that. You already gave him a free pass for that piss poor imitation of you. You grab a few select pieces of your favorite hair accessories.

“Sort of,” you reply.

“All I did today was give you an opportunity.” His eyes, the color of the heavenly sky, focus on you. “Congratulations, my twin flame. You rescued yourself tonight.”

(A/N: Will this get more parts? Probably. Lmk what you think and thanks for reading <;3)

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader

685 notes · View notes

klemen-tine · 3 months

Text

White Whale Part 2

Platonic! Yandere Batfam x Deaf!Male Reader

A continuation of this one.

https://www.tumblr.com/klemen-tine/736839222321922048/white-whale

Thoughts

Sign/Morse Code

Speaking

Trigger Warnings: Disability Discrimination and a mention of suicidal thoughts. Its like on sentence.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Y/N sat near the window, his processors off and a book on his lap. His attention was drawn to the snow falling outside and covering the ground in white, watching Damian walk Titus around the yard to experience the frozen water. Not like the giant dog hasn’t walked in snow before.

He pressed his forehead against the glass, feeling the freezing melted sand press against his skin and without a doubt making it red. His tan was slowly fading, which made him all the more depressed whenever he looked in the mirror, now resulting in him wearing long sleeves in the hopes that he wouldn’t have to see it fade faster. His finger running down the spine of his book over and over again, tracing over the embroidered words and his short fingernail picked at the strings.

Y/N pulled away from the window, before Damian could see him, and he set To Kill a Mockingbird down on the lamp table beside the small nook near the window. It was his secret little stowaway, one Y/N knows that if they wanted to, his family could find it easily. There is nowhere in this manor that is unable to be discovered by them. He thinks Alfred is helping in keeping this spot a secret. Assuring the bat family that Y/N is safe and there is no need to tear apart the library to look for him.

All the windows in the library are sealed besides three, and those have sensors on them. Even if they didn’t, Y/N wasn’t stupid. He knows that those trackers he had dug out from his body are back in him. There is one in his inner thigh, deep enough that if he were to take the same scalpel he used the first time, the chance of nicking his artery was a higher possibility than he felt was worth risking.

Sometimes, when he presses down on the soft skin, he could feel the cold metal sear his muscles and capillaries, reminding him of his captivity without the chains.

Y/N connected his external processors, and winced when the world began to make noise. There was the buzz of some lightbulbs the hummed in the air and the heater was making a thrumming noise. Before his ‘trip’ to the Dominican Republic, Y/N would have thought that this was quiet. He would have believed that this was almost silent and there was little chance of it becoming any more quiet.

Now it was just loud. Obnoxiously so.

Looking out the window once more, Y/N couldn’t help the turn of his eyebrows and the downturn in his lips. Even his safe place felt like a cage.

Walking out of the room, he zigzagged through the bookshelves and into the main room, where the large couches, the fireplace, and coffee table are. The fire was crackling and popping, the bright oranges, reds, and yellows casting a warm glow on the sofas.

“I was wondering when you’d come out.” Y/N didn’t even look at Tim, his gaze still on the flames and the burning embers of the fire. It matched the heat that was beginning to burn in his chest whenever he was around any of them. It’s embarrassing, but it took Y/N a few days to realize what exactly it was he was feeling towards them.

Anger. Y/N was so, undeniably, pissed at all of them. It got to the point that he wouldn’t even eat with them. Alfred, the kind man he is, would bring his meals to his room and Y/N would eat there. Dick once tried to drag Y/N out of his room, but he got a solid kick to his leg and Y/N’s enraged voice screeching at him to get the hell out of his room.

Even Jason was receiving the cold shoulder. When he tried to read to Y/N, taking their usual spot and position, Y/N just scrunched his nose and moved. Ignoring his twin’s call and slamming his door hard and loud enough that it made his processors ring.

Tim sighed, watching his brother stew and brew like a shaken pepsi bottle, ready to erupt with words that will stick to the skin. Y/N didn’t acknowledge him, his jaw clenching and nose scrunching, before he turned away and left the library. Tim stood up and followed him, jamming his foot in between the door and the door frame to stop Y/N from shutting him out.

“Go. Away.” Tim pushed into the door, and even though he and Y/N are about the same size, Tim is Red Robin. A vigilante used to put down villains twice his size and three times his weight. Y/N is just… Y/N. He muscled through, inviting himself within Y/N’s room which he took a scan of.

The window was closed, the bed was made, the desk clean, and the laptop locked. When he had gotten back, his laptop had been installed with monitoring software, allowing everyone access from the Batcomputer to see what Y/N was doing. His phone had been given the same thing, only the child settings were enabled. His bags, duffle, suitcases, backpacks, all of them had been taken and if he ever needed them then he would need to go to Bruce.

If Y/N had anything to say, he didn’t share it. When it was all explained to Y/N, he wasn’t even looking at them, or Bruce, and instead was staring out the window. Damian believed that the other didn't even listen to them, but the lack of questions proved he had heard them.

“We really need to talk, Y/N.”

“No, go away. I don’t want you in my room.” Tim sighed, watching Y/N seethe in front of him. He held firm, “I will leave, once we talk.” Y/N rolled his eyes, “About what? There is nothing to talk about.” Those raging E/C eyes followed Tim’s every move in his space, and if it were any other time, Tim would have been thrilled to have Y/N’s attention on him. Those eyes focused only on him.

Tim sat on the chair in front of Y/N’s desk, ignoring Y/N’s scandalized expression and instead taking in the desk. All of Y/N’s writing tools, journals, pens, and markers have been confiscated. Instead, he only had the iPad to write down his thoughts and notes for when school starts. An iPad that is monitored.

Y/N seemed to accept that Tim would not be leaving, but that didn’t mean he was happy about it. Scrunching his nose, he disconnected the processors, pulled them off of his head, and debated about chucking them at his brother. He tossed them on his bed. He saw Tim deflate from the corner of his vision, and when those E/C eyes filled with irritation and smugness met Tim’s blue eyes, Y/N couldn’t help the vindictive smirk that formed on his face.

‘Bruce wants you to keep those on.’

“What do you want, Tim? If you have nothing good to say then get out, I want to nap.” Tim nodded, adjusting himself so he had space to sign.

‘How long are you going to keep pouting?’ Y/N’s face scrunched and he stared at Tim in disbelief. Not in disbelief that he said that, but disbelief in that that was what he wanted to say at this point in time. He could feel a headache forming and the rage building in his chest to the back of his throat. The words scorching the sensitive skin and making him feel as if he was about to catch fire.

“I tell you to have something ‘good’ to say, and that’s what comes out of your mouth? Get out, Tim.” His brother stayed in the chair, and Y/N marched over and grabbed the collar of Tim’s shirt. Which, if he had a clearer mind, Y/N would have not done that. It only allowed for Tim to grab his wrist and maneuver them so that it was Y/N who was pinned.

Icy blue eyes stared into boiling E/C eyes. Tim sighed, releasing Y/N so he can sign, ‘It is getting out of control, Y/N. I can understand a month, but you are pushing three.’

“You can’t tell me how to feel or how long I can feel it.” Tim looked ready to throttle him, and Y/N hoped that Tim rolled his eyes enough that they got stuck like that.

‘Y/N, just what was so important about that shack that is keeping you acting like this?’ Y/N pushed Tim, startling his younger brother and if he was calmer, Y/N would also be startled. He’s never been a violent person, choosing to look away when things got bloody in a movie or show. However, the spike of rage and aggravation he felt towards Tim and the situation had made his body move before he could really process it.

He glared at Tim with a new rage, and now he had wished he had thrown those external processors as the so-called genius. He balled his fist, “It wasn’t the shack! It wasn’t the ocean, it wasn’t the country, for fucks sake Tim, it wasn’t even then whales!” Y/N reached across his desk and threw a copy of Alice in Wonderland at the other.

He ignored the annoyance when Tim caught it.

��It wasn’t any of that! It was what you all took away! It wasn’t the sun, it wasn’t the outside, it was the ability to make my own decisions!” Tears burned Y/N’s eyes and he wondered just how many nights he spent crying and wishing for a chance to escape.

“Why… why am I the only one who doesn’t have any say in how I want to live me life?” Tim set the book down on Y/N’s bed, and walked closer. Y/N stepped away, “Why am I the one who is held here like some kind of… prisoner when everyone else can go and–and do what they want?”

Tim’s heart broke, ‘No, no Y/N. You’re not a prisoner, we just want you safe and the safest place is here.’ Y/N gave him a look of exhaustion and disappointment, “What else is this then? Where else are people monitored to this extent?” Prison. Hell, Arkham doesn’t even have this level of monitoring and Gotham’ worst and craziest people were there.

Y/N knows that all of this is done out of some sick and twisted form of love, but if this was love then Y/N wanted no part of it.

“Y/N,” Tim winced. He didn’t feel bad about what they have done for Y/N, but he did feel bad that it was somewhat affecting Y/N like this. It wasn’t their intention for Y/N to feel trapped, but Y/N just doesn’t get it. The world is mean, cruel, and horrible to those who don’t fit in. Tim, Jason, Dick, Damian, Bruce, the entire Bat clan knows this because they are the ones out there and witnessing this.

They all know just how awful this world can be, so why would they not want to protect Y/N from it?

“Dinner is ready.” Tim’s attention snapped to the door, where Damian stood. Y/N’s attention also turned to Damian, and the boy softened under Y/N’s hurt gaze.

‘Alfred made your favorite.’ Y/N wanted to bury his head in his hands. He didn’t want to read this conversation anymore. Pursing his lips, Y/N plopped down on the edge of his bed and looked out the barred window.

“You say I am not a prisoner… then am I a pet?” He mumbled, his voice barely above a murmur. Damian moved further in the room, so Y/N can see his hands at least.

‘Of course not. You are our most prized person.’ Damian didn’t see Y/N as a person. It is cruel to admit and he had almost been choked-out by Jason when he said it out loud. Y/N, in Damian’ eyes, was the Wayne’s family most prized possession. Next to the Batcave, the library, the Barmobile, and even Wayne Enterprises, Y/N stood next to and in front of it all. They could not function without him.

Like every prized possession, like diamonds, sapphires, and jades, they wanted to protect him. They gave him the best care they could and the best security. The difference was that jewels don’t have opinions or a desire to roam the earth. Something Y/N did have, and Damian blames the books for that wanderlust. Specifically that Moby Dick book.

When Jason took it from Y/N, Damian had to stop himself from throwing it in the fire. It was a first edition, the cover and binding still the same from when the book was first published, and if he looked closely he could see the faint line where Y/N has traced the spine of the book numerous times. Damian knows there is only one person in this world Y/N hates, which is the Joker, and Damian does not want to be added to the list should anything happen to that book.

Still, it was tempting.

Damian has read the book, and the lesson was as obvious as an East Gothamite amidst the upper echelon of Gotham. Damian knows what Y/N’s ‘white whale’ is, and he can’t help but to wonder why Y/N can’t draw the same conclusions like everyone else did.

Just like the story, Y/N will drive himself crazy trying to obtain something that they will never allow. Diamonds, sapphires, and jades are always protected by glass cases and security systems. That is how Y/N should see this.

‘Your safety is the most important thing.’

“More than my happiness?” Damian and Tim stared at Y/N with the answer clear in their eyes, but Y/N wanted to see them say it. He wanted to see them admit that they did not care for his happiness as long as he was trapped within these thick walls and gilded windows.

‘You were happy before.’ Y/N sighed, “That is because it was an illusion.” E/C eyes, dull and lacking emotion, “Tell me Dami, how can I go back to that illusion when in the morning it is the sun’s reflections off the bars on the windows that wake me up? Or the feeling of those trackers in my body replacing the collar you all want to put around my neck?”

++++

Bruce stared at the photo, taking in the smiles and the way those eyes used to shine. Y/N always had a great smile, full of his emotions and rarely ever fake. His eyes always the most expressive, and it is why Bruce found it easy to see when he was lying.

Granted, in Y/N’s defense, he’s never had a real reason to lie before. He was open with everyone about his thoughts, opinions, and desires. Bruce made it that way. Bruce swaddled him in the comfort that only he and the family could provide in order to make it so Y/N would always rely on them for that. He made it so Y/N would never have to lie, or feel the need too.

Then Y/N just had to get curious. Bruce doesn’t know who is to blame for this sudden defiance in Y/N, but he does put a lot of blame on those ocean documentaries. Even when he was young, Y/N always had a fascination for them. Watching them over and over again, reading the subtitles, memorizing them, so now he can just watch the documentaries while already knowing what is going on.

His attention turned to the photo he had bought from that photographer in the Dominican Republic. Y/N was freediving and looking like he was in his element.

Bruce didn’t feel bad for taking Y/N back, but he did feel bad about cutting a hobby short. There was denying that Y/N was a natural at this sport, and Bruce had always wanted to encourage each of his kids’ interest.

But not this one. Not one that meant Y/N had to live far from them and was dangerous. At least with vigilantism, Batman was there in case anything turned south. There was no one in the water for Y/N in case something happened. Free diving is dangerous, and the ocean is unpredictable. Bruce can’t help Y/N if he goes free diving, especially if he goes alone.

Sighing, Bruce rubbed his forehead and checked the surveillance cameras one more time. Y/N and Dick were in one of the study rooms. From what it looks like, Dick is trying to talk to Y/N who was standing next to the windows, looking away from the other.

Perhaps, it’s about time Bruce steps in. Y/N hasn’t talked to him since the day Bruce grounded him, about two months ago and the other has done a great job in staying out of Bruce’s radar. The only time Bruce has seen Y/N in person is when he goes into Y/N's room at night after patrol to make sure that he is still there. A new fear unlocked that one night, when everyone is out and Alfred is asleep, Y/N will disappear once more.

No one knows how Y/N got out that one night, and no matter how many questions were asked, Y/N never said anything. Damian had tried bargaining with him, telling him that if Y/N told them how he got out then some days of his grounding would be taken off. Y/N huffed, a bitter smile taking over his face.

Bruce rose from his desk, shutting down his computer and leaving his own study. It is about time he and his son have a conversation. One sided or not.

He walked over to the study room that Dick and Y/N were in. Halting before the door and listening to the voices coming from inside.

“Y/N, I am telling you that no one is going to believe you after the stunt you pulled.”

“But you will be with me. Dick, I just want to go to the beach. We did it all the time.”

“Mmm, and look how that ended up.”

“Me being happy for a few months.”

“You’re still on that, Y/N?” Bruce opened the heavy doors, silencing the conversation and causing two sets of eyes to land on him. Dick was leaning against the desk, and Y/N had his back to the window. Both of their faces showed their surprise and confusion, until E/C eyes flickered to the ceiling and the corners of the room where he saw the cameras. Confusion became annoyance, rolling his eyes and turning back towards the window.

Dick and Bruce made eye contact, and when Bruce nodded his head towards the door Dick didn’t fight it. He took the hint and walked out, sparing Y/N and Bruce one last look before shutting the large oak doors.

Y/N refused to look at him. Bruce walked closer, behind the desk and next to Y/N, standing next to the window.

“Y/N.” His son moved to pull out his external processors, but Bruce grabbed his wrists within his large hands, effectively stopping his son. Bruce set his jaw, “None of that, we need to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Then listen.” Y/N scrunched his nose and furrowed his brows, glaring at Bruce. The older man sighed, but held his grip on those thin wrists, noting that Y/N had stopped tugging his arms and was in fact waiting for Bruce to start talking, “I understand that you are upset, and that you are upset at us for meddling.” Y/N raised an eyebrow, his face slowly smoothening out and his lips no longer in a pout.

Bruce sighed, releasing one of Y/N’s wrists to push aside his bangs. Gently brushing his son’s forehead and pushing the rest of the strand behind his ear, minding the processing unit resting behind Y/N’s ear.

“And I know you’re aware that if you had asked, we would have said no.” Y/N’s lips pouted once more and his eyes became a little downcast. Sadness blanketing over him and Bruce felt a bit bad for revealing that, but Y/N knows it already.

“Y/N, why are you insistent on wanting to be independent? There are millions of people in this world who still wish for their parent’s support, and thousands of people who would give up everything to have a life and opportunities that you have.” Y/N scrunched his nose, feeling guilt curl in his chest.

He knows that he is lucky. Y/N is aware of how fortunate he is to have all that he has and then some. He knows that there are people in this world who would kill to have what he has.

Yet, just like there are millions of people who want what he has, there are also millions of people who strive for their independence against their family. Millions of people who take pleasure in making choices that affect only them. Millions of people who don’t let their disabilities define their life, and learn to accept and live with them.

“I am aware that I am fortunate, that my deafness has only been a part of my life instead of completely defining it,” Y/N acknowledged, turning his attention back to outside where it was beginning to snow. He ignored his reflection, not wanting to look at the weak person in front of him.

“I am grateful for all you have done, along with Alfred and everyone else. No amount of ‘thank you’s’ will ever be enough. But Bruce–” Y/N turned his eyes once more to Bruce, E/C eyes meeting ocean blue, “– No amount of money or gadgets is going to deny the fact that I am deaf.

“I am reliant on you all for a lot of things, and you raised me that way so that I can forever depend on you. Which… I know it wouldn't bother some people but it bothers me.” Y/N’s eyes shined with unshed tears, as if the very thought of having to rely on them was shameful.

“I am not fragile, nor am I glass. I am from East Gotham, just like Jason.” Bruce is aware of that. Like every East Gothamite, the both of them had the stubbornness that made Bruce question if he had a lineage that tied him back to that part of town. Y/N is strong in his own ways, and stubborn in others. Bruce will agree on that. He will agree that Jason and Y/N are more like brothers than those Bruce has seen when blood related.

However, Jason and Y/N are not the same. They were different pieces cut from the same cloth. Jason was shaped and molded to withstand the toughest and dangerous situations, to be durable and take a beating.

Y/N was not molded like that. Y/N was refined and polished to be treated gently and kindly, to only know the kindest hands and gentlest of uses.

“And I know that compared to the rest of you, I am weaker. I… I am not strong like you or Jason, I am not fast like Damian, nor am I as smart as Tim, or charismatic like Dick.” Bruce’s grip tightened on the one wrist he was still holding, wanting to deny everything Y/N had said because he hated hearing Y/N self-deprecating himself like that. Y/N is kinder than any of them, easier to talk to, and has almost the same amount of medical knowledge that Alfred has.

Y/N is the normalcy they all crave for when they come back from a patrol or mission. He reminds them in the gentlest ways that they are human. They are not just vigilantes, not another person hiding behind a cowl, a cape, or a domino mask. He reminds them that they are brothers, friends, allies, a father (in Bruce’s case).

“But just because of that, do you really have to control every part of my life? I wish you had more faith in me to let me go and learn to be strong on my own, just like you do with everyone else.” Y/N stared up at Bruce with a hurt expression, E/C eyes staring into Bruce’s blue eyes through those lashes that normally would be able to grant Y/N anything he wished. A simple bat of those lashes and eyes would have everyone running around trying to do as he wished.

“Y/N–”

“If you can’t trust me, at least trust yourself that you taught me well enough to be by myself.” But the thing is, is that Bruce doesn’t trust himself. He’s failed so many times and he fears that this one failure will be the one that breaks him. It’ll break the boys, the girls, Alfred, him. It’ll break everyone.

Y/N doesn’t realize it, and Bruce wonders if it is because he doesn’t want to get it or he just doesn’t. He wonders if Y/N chooses not to see his importance in this family so the burden doesn’t feel as heavy. If anything should happen to Y/N, Bruce can’t guarantee the safety of Gotham anymore. He couldn’t guarantee the safety of his Robins, past and current. If Bruce couldn’t protect literally the easiest person to protect, then who was he to try and protect a city?

Y/N, sensing Bruce’s hesitation and unease, tried to withdraw his hand from Bruce’s grip and shrug off the hand that was resting on his cheek. His hopes and wants crashing onto the carpeted floor, replacing his chest with anger and disappointment. He's been feeling those two emotions a lot lately. They are carving its way in his chest like it is their new home, and he wonders if it will be. Will he hold onto these feelings for the rest of his life as he stares out these large windows and reminisces what the sun felt like on his skin and the breeze through his hair. Does the biting cold still turn his nose and cheeks red, and does the heat and humid summers still make his freckles pop and skin gleam?

“...Forget it. I… it was stupid to ask that of you.” The raging inferno of anger died, filling his chest with the smoke of its fury and his stomach warm with the dying embers. A new emotion, one he is intimately familiar with, filled him instead. It is one he knows like the back of his hand, an emotion that is more of his identity than his deafness.

Sadness.

It is like a steady stream, filling the smoking cavity in his chest with cold water, putting out the embers and making that smoke turn to steam. Burning his muscles and organs with a painful sting, and filling his person with ice cold water instead of the burning fire. Y/N knows sadness. He knows the emotion well and sometimes it reminds him of a scar. Never truly gone, just sometimes forgotten. It sits at the back of the mind, hiding behind the good times, the happy emotions, until it is accidentally hit and it draws your attention. From there, it is no longer at the back of your mind, but all you can think about.

Sadness, to Y/N, is like a scar that has marred its way across his face. Never forgotten and for the whole world to see, unless makeup and a smile is put on it.

Y/N, in the basicness of emotions, is sad. He is hurt, upset, exhausted, and sad.

“Leave me alone, Bruce.” Bruce’s grip tightened once more, and his jaw clenched. He’s finally got Y/N within his vicinity to talk, like hell he’s letting go. Y/N narrowed his eyes and pulled his arm, “Let go, Bruce.”

He pulled again, “Bruce.” The man’s iron grip never waivered, and Y/N felt the air in his lungs begin to escape quicker than it could fill the organs. He brought his other hand up to try and peel those thick fingers off his wrist, but Bruce grabbed his other hand.

“I still don’t understand why you would want to leave.” Y/N scrunched his nose, “If you can’t understand, even after I spelled it out for you, then maybe you should stop being a detective.” Bruce didn’t feel insulted or slighted at Y/N’s words, chalking it up to Y/N being upset still.

“How can I make you want to stay here?” Y/N sighed, and Bruce could feel that fight leaving his son’s body. The tension in his arms disappeared.

“How can I know that it is here that I am meant to be, when I haven’t been anywhere else?” Bruce opened his mouth, to which Y/N effectively cut him off, “East Gotham doesn’t count, and the Dominican Republic would have counted if you all hadn’t kidnapped me.”

“We didn’t kidnap you.” Y/N gawked at him, and the fight returned, “You did kidnap me! Do you need a dictionary definition of what kidnapping is?! It is the unlawful abduction, aspiration and confinement of a person against their will!”

“You. Live. Here.” Bruce gritted out and Y/N’s jaw clenched, “Well I don’t WANT to be here!” He snarled and tried once more to loosen Bruce’s grip on his wrists.

“What is it with all of you NOT comprehending that?! No matter how you look at it, no matter what angle you try to take this from, Bruce. I am a prisoner within this manor!” Y/N glared at Bruce, “Just what did I do that warranted the surveilance, the trackers, the stupid god for fucking sake imaginary collar you all want me to have on?!”

Bruce growled out, “You left when you are only meant to stay here. It is the consequences of your actions.”

“I am not your property!” Y/N snarled, “ Nor am I a pet that you can keep chained and trapped in the house!” Bruce felt something snap within him and he released Y/N’s wrist and watched the other stumble from the sudden loss of support.

Y/N righted himself, still glaring at the man. Bruce took a deep breath, “Fine.”

“Huh?”

“You want to try your luck out there, then go. I will give you an hour's head start.” Y/N stared at Bruce in suspicion, “What are you getting at?” Bruce made a show of adjusting his watch, “I will give you an hour, only one. If you can outrun us, out maneuver us, or outsmart us until sunrise, you can choose how your future plays out.”

“‘Us?’” Bruce smiled, “All of us.” Y/N wanted to bite out a ‘not fair’ comment, but found a more pressing matter, “What about the trackers?” Bruce fished out his phone, and made a dramatic show of pressing some buttons, he then showed Y/N what appeared to be a small map, like a GPS, on his phone.

“Turned off.” Y/N ignored the feeling of disgust seeing that his location was literally on their phones.

“Start running Y/N, your hour has already started.” Y/N bolted out the study room, not looking back.

Bruce stayed in the room, looking out the window as the sun began to set and the snow turned dark. Light footsteps entered the room, and Bruce could basically hear the eyebrow raise, “Not now Alfred, save it for when Y/N comes back.”

The old butler humphed, “He’s always gotten sick when playing in the snow.” Bruce hummed, “Then I guess we better make this quick.”

“Are you sure an hour was a good idea? He did sneak out of the manor before.” Ocean blue eyes filled with mirth, and he tapped his ears, “If Y/N wants to know what it’s like to be deaf, then he’ll play this game deaf. It’ll teach him how lucky he is to have his hearing.” Alfred’s eyes widened, “They turn off without his knowledge.”

“Once he reaches a certain distance, they do, and he can’t turn them back on. Only I have the power to do that.”

In the hall, suited up and waiting in the shadows, were the rest of this crooked family. Waiting for his orders, “Give him an hour, then find him.”

++++

Y/N knows this is a losing game. He knows that this game is set for his failure, and he knows that once this game is over, he will most likely never be able to set foot outside again. Not without a babysitter.

When he external processors cut out, he knows what angle Bruce is playing out and he knows that his chances of making it to sunrise have become nearly 0%. He may not be as smart as Tim or anyone else in his family, but if you live with geniuses you learn how to read between the lines.

He somehow managed to flag down a taxi before telling them where to go. Not missing the slight judgment cross their face and Y/N wonders if they know he cannot hear them. Y/N wonders if they know he is being chased and he essentially is just digging a bigger and deeper hole for himself. The bars will get thicker and the chain will be heavier, but if that is the outcome of this, then Y/N believes that this will be worth it.

He clutched the bag closer.

When he arrives at the station, he knows his hour is up and he knows that Barbara is watching him through the cameras. She is watching him buy his ticket, and is retelling everything to his siblings. He knows this because in front of him is Nightwing, drawing a crowd and making everyone look around for the villain.

‘Going somewhere?’

‘Only temporarily.’

‘Temporarily is too long Y/N, let's go back home. Alfred has a peach cobbler ready.’ Nightwing held his hand out as if Y/N would actually take it. Which is fine, because Y/N knows through the giant circular mirror hanging from the ceiling, that Spoiler and Red Robin are behind him.

Y/N stared at the hand once more, and he wondered if this is what it feels like to know the path you should take and still choose the other one. Taking a deep breath, Y/N said the one word that would get everyone running. It would have people scrambling and trying to seek cover and get out of a place that made everyone have a close vicinity to each other.

“Joker!” Like someone shouting fire, the world was set into motion and Y/N watched as his view got obstructed by the rush of people. He disappeared within the crowds, dodging idle hands and ducking into the crowd. He may not be able to hear, but he can feel the panic that everyone else was feeling. Y/N saw parents pick their kids up, lovers grabbing each other’s hands, and strangers pushing and shoving other strangers.

He rushed down the escalator, towards the Amtrak that had his destination written all over it. Y/N didn’t have to turn around to know that it was Nightwing right behind him. He can feel the heavy and frantic gaze and if he could hear, without a doubt his name would be filling the air.

His heart picked up at the sight of the doors closing, and through some luck, he squeezed in at the last minute. The metal shutting behind him, and large latex covered hands slammed into the glass. Dick’s frantic face stared at him, and Y/N couldn’t stop the smile from creeping on his face.

How it must feel for the rabbit to slip through the Hunter’s fingers.

When the train began moving, Y/N wiggled his fingers in a mockery of a goodbye. He now sees why Jason loves teasing Dick. Dick’s angry expression really does tickle a sore spot in Y/N. Choosing a spot near the windows, Y/N prepared himself for the 10 hours train ride. The sun will not be rising when he gets there, but he never expected to make it to sunrise. Peering into the duffle bag next to him, Y/N gave a bitter smile and turned his attention back to the passing sight of Gotham city.

In the Batcave, everyone was pacing and figuring out the best way to do this.

“Are you sure that is where he is going?”

“For the last time, I saw his ticket, yes. He is going there!” Jason winced at Barbara’s raised voice and he grit his teeth in irritation. He massaged his temples, “Why North Carolina? What is even there?”

“The beaches.”

“No shit you little spawn, but which one.” Nightwing didn’t bother reproaching his brother, and instead tightened his fist. He was so close to grabbing his brother. So close.

The very knowledge that his little brother had barely escaped him stoked two different emotions in him. Pride in knowing that his brother was fast, fast enough to get away from him, and irritation because he did slip through Nightwing’s fingers. Batman didn’t seem bothered.

In fact he looked awfully relaxed for someone whose son had just hopped on a train to North Carolina. Nightwing glared at him, “You know where he’s going.” Batman shrugged, “An idea.”

“Where?”

“Y/N took his freediving gear, and there’s only one beach in North Carolina that is worth freediving.”

++++

Y/N felt the water encompass him, hugging his limbs and freeing him of gravity. The light attached to his forehead illuminates the sea and sees marine life at night. The train ride had been long and restless, but he did manage to at least sleep for 4 hours, before his nerves woke him up once more.

It was still dark, but at 4 am in the morning, it would be stupid to assume there would be any light. Navigating to the pier at Wrightsville Beach had been difficult, constantly looking over his shoulders to make sure he wasn’t being followed. Then there was the actual jumping off of the pier that if anyone saw would have the cops racing over.

Finally though, he was here. Swimming in the water and just letting himself be. It was a poor replication of freedom, but if this will be all he is allowed he’ll take it. Who knows how long it'll be before he could do something like this. Y/N isn’t stupid. He knows that Bruce knows where he is at.

He knows his siblings are on their way over. Probably letting him get off the Amtrak first before jumping in the Batplane, or maybe even the Batboat. Y/N surfaced, and took a deep breath before diving below the surface once more.

God, this was all a terrible joke but here it was happening. Y/N could have never imagined his family doing this. When he was younger, he chalked up Bruce’s need to constantly check on him as anxiety because it was the first time the man had a completely normal person in the house. Jason had always been touchy, and then Dick came along who would ruffle their hair. Tim would hold his forearm and Damian would follow him where he went.

It wasn’t weird at all. That was Y/N’s normal, until he went to college and started making friends. Friends who were mature enough to see past his lack of hearing and shared their own sibling experiences.

Experiences that didn’t match Y/N’s.

His little trip outside the country only proved it, and Y/N wondered if it was a bad thing he decided to do in person classes instead of online. If he did online, he would live in the fantasy that his family was normal and they loved him as a person. No red flags would be waving because Y/N wouldn’t even know they are flags.

He felt the water around him begin to vibrate and from the way the fish started spazzing out, Y/N knew his time was limited. How funny it would be if he never rose to the surface again.

Sinking a bit further, he looked towards the surface and watched as the water distorted and ripples began to form, each one acting as a timer. Closing his eyes, he held his breath as long as he could, until his lungs began to ache. Lightheadedness caused him to almost inhale water.

Rising to the surface, he could see the ominous black shape and the people looking over the edge. Here he was swimming back to his captors’ arms. Like a mouse headed for the trap. A fish into a net.

Y/N has never hated himself more then when he took that breath of air and met the sight of cowled Batman, and masked Robin and former Robins.

‘Ready?’

“Even if I wasn’t you’d still take me.”

‘You lost Y/N, get out of the water.’ He accepted the ladder thrown down to him, and as soon as he was within arm distance, Red Hood and Red Robin hoisted him over the edge of the boat and it was Robin handing him a towel. Taking off his snorkel and flippers, Y/N let himself be guided to the inside, where an unmasked Dick sat at one of the tables with two cups of coffee. Red Hood pushed Y/N into the seat, squishing his body against the window as he laid his giant self on him. Sighing in relief and going limp.

Y/N didn’t mind. From his seat, he watched the sunrays begin to slowly peak over the horizon. The warm glow gently illuminating the darkness, the sun not in sight yet but it’s very beginnings making itself known. Y/N wonders if one day, he can fall into the illusion of once more having a choice in his decisions. That there will be multiple paths in front of him instead of just one.

A large hand patted his head, and Y/N felt disgusted that he welcomed it. Back to normalcy. He has to go back to normalcy. If he didn’t, Y/N really does believe he will go crazy. His fate has been chosen from the start, and he knows that there is little chance of changing it. He knows that all of this comes from a sick and twisted form of love, and Y/N wonders if this is the type of love he has always been destined for.

The worst part is if given the choice to start over, Y/N wouldn’t stop himself from meeting Jason. He wouldn’t stop Jason from stealing the Batmobile tires, and he wouldn’t stop Jason from being Robin. He would try and stop Jason from dying, but he wouldn’t stop Tim from being Robin, or anything really. Y/N loves Jason, he loves his family, he loves their flaws and vices, even if it means letting go of somethings. His desire to be on his own was temporary anyways, only a few years and he would come back.

It was never good to have a ‘white whale.’ That is what Moby Dick taught everyone who read it.

If freedom was his white whale, then his family are the whalers. Killing it and completely destroying anything that made him want to chase it.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Honestly.... I'm not to sure about the ending.