#I'm deeply uncomfortable having said even as much as I already have about the matter because I don't want a lot of attention on me for it

[misswynters]

Father of the realm

Cregan Stark x Wife!reader

[synopsis: You are pregnant with a babygirl, or that’s what your husband keeps saying. He truly wishes it’s a girl.

[a/n: yet another cregan fic since i can’t get enough of him.

[note | pls don’t just like, but also reblog & give me feedback. i don’t want to get shadowbanned

Winterfell's ancient halls echoed with the sound of crackling fires and the gentle hum of activity. Outside, the snow fell softly, blanketing the courtyard in a serene layer of white. Inside, however, a different warmth filled the air. It was a warmth born of love, care, and anticipation.

You sat in your chambers, a soft, knitted blanket draped over your legs, the flickering fire casting a golden glow across the room. Your hands rested on your swollen belly, feeling the gentle movements of the life growing within you. Each flutter and kick was a reminder of the miracle you carried, and with each one, your heart swelled with love.

Cregan entered the room quietly, his footsteps almost silent on the stone floor. His eyes softened as he saw you, a tender smile playing on his lips. "How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice a soothing balm.

You smiled back at him, the sight of his concern warming your heart. "I'm well, Cregan. Just a bit tired."

He knelt beside you, his large hands gently cupping your belly. "Is she moving much today?" he asked, his eyes lighting up with excitement.

You laughed softly, placing your hand over his. "Yes, she's been quite active. She seems to love it when I'm near the fire."

Cregan's smile widened, and he pressed a gentle kiss to your belly. "She's already got a mind of her own," he said, his voice filled with affection. "Just like her mother."

You reached out, running your fingers through his dark hair. "You really think it's a girl, don't you?"

He looked up at you, his eyes filled with certainty. "I know it is. I can feel it in my bones. Our little girl."

The joy in his voice was infectious, and you couldn't help but feel your heart flutter with happiness. "I hope you're right," you said softly. "But boy or girl, as long as they're healthy, that's all that matters."

Cregan nodded, his expression growing serious for a moment. "You're right, of course. But I can't help but dream of holding our daughter, of teaching her about the North, of watching her grow into a strong, brave woman like her mother."

Tears welled up in your eyes at his words, the depth of his love and dreams for your child touching you deeply. "She'll be so lucky to have you as her father," you whispered.

"And she'll be even luckier to have you as her mother," he replied, his voice filled with conviction. He stood up, gently helping you to your feet. "Come, let's sit by the fire. It's warmer there."

As you settled into the comfortable chair by the hearth, Cregan wrapped a thick, warm blanket around your shoulders. He sat beside you, his hand never leaving yours. "You must tell me if you're uncomfortable, or if you need anything," he said, his brow furrowed with concern.

You squeezed his hand, reassuring him. "I will, Cregan. You've been so wonderful, so attentive. I don't know what I would do without you."

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "You'll never have to find out. I'm here, always."

The weeks passed, each day bringing you closer to the moment you would meet your child. Cregan's excitement grew with each passing day, his dreams of a daughter filling your conversations. He was constantly by your side, ensuring your comfort, worrying over every little thing.

One evening, as you lay in bed, the baby kicked particularly hard, making you wince. Cregan was immediately at your side, his face filled with worry. "Are you alright? Is the baby okay?"

You smiled, placing his hand where you felt the movement. "She's just making her presence known," you said with a laugh. "She must take after her father."

Cregan's eyes softened as he felt the strong kick. "She's a fighter," he said proudly. He gently rubbed your belly, his touch soothing. "Rest, my love. I'll stay here with you."

As you drifted off to sleep, you felt the warmth of his hand on your belly, his protective presence a constant comfort.

The day finally came when the midwife announced that it was time. Cregan was a bundle of nerves, his concern and excitement palpable. He stayed by your side through every contraction, his hand holding yours, his words of encouragement soothing your fears.

When the cries of your newborn filled the room, Cregan's eyes filled with tears. The midwife placed the baby in his arms, and he looked down at the tiny face, his expression one of pure love and awe. "It's a girl," he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. "Our little girl."

You reached out, touching the soft cheek of your daughter, tears streaming down your face. "She's perfect," you said, your heart overflowing with love.

Cregan placed the baby in your arms, his eyes never leaving yours. "You did it," he said, his voice filled with pride. "You brought her into this world. Our beautiful daughter."

As you held your baby girl, feeling the warmth and weight of her in your arms, you knew that your life had changed forever. The love you and Cregan shared had brought her into the world, and together, you would give her all the love and care she deserved.

Cregan sat beside you, his arm around your shoulders, his eyes shining with tears of joy. "Welcome to the world, little one," he whispered. "We're going to take care of you, and love you, forever."

In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of the fire and the love of your husband, you felt a peace and happiness unlike any other. Your family was complete, and you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, united by the unbreakable bond of love.

As winter melted into spring, the walls of Winterfell became a lively home filled with the sounds of new life. Your daughter, Lyanna, now a few months old, had quickly become the heart of the castle. Her bright blue eyes and soft giggles enchanted everyone who met her, but no one was more captivated than her father.

Cregan, the once gruff and imposing Lord of Winterfell, had transformed into a doting and protective father. He took Lyanna with him everywhere, carrying her in a specially crafted sling so she could stay close to his heart. The sight of the formidable Stark lord cradling his tiny daughter became a common one, and the people of Winterfell couldn't help but smile at the tender displays of affection.

One morning, as the sun cast its first light over the ancient walls, Cregan gently lifted Lyanna from her crib. She yawned and stretched, her tiny fists rubbing her eyes. "Good morning, my little princess," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Ready to greet the day?"

Lyanna cooed in response, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. Cregan chuckled and secured her in the sling, making sure she was comfortable before heading out to start his day. You watched them from the bed, your heart swelling with love at the sight of your husband and daughter.

Cregan was true to his promise of taking her everywhere. Whether it was inspecting the walls, overseeing the training in the courtyard, or attending to matters in the great hall, Lyanna was always by his side. The castle's inhabitants quickly learned that the quickest way to their lord's favor was through a kind word or gentle gesture towards his beloved daughter.

The following day, as Cregan walked through the bustling courtyard with Lyanna nestled against his chest, he overheard a servant muttering something unkind about your family. His eyes darkened, and he turned to face the man, his voice a low growl. "If I hear another word of disrespect, I will see to it that you regret it. Do I make myself clear?"

The servant paled and stammered an apology, quickly scurrying away. Cregan's protective nature was legendary, and no one dared to cross him, especially where his wife and daughter were concerned.

As his beloved daughter grew, Cregan's bond with Lyanna followed suit. He spoiled her with gifts—beautifully crafted toys, soft blankets, and tiny dresses that made her look like a princess. But more than the material things, it was his unwavering presence and love that made Lyanna's world so full of joy.

The following afternoon, as you sat in the gardens with Lyanna on your lap, Cregan joined you, carrying a small, intricately carved wooden wolf. "Look what I have for you, little one," he said, his voice filled with excitement. He handed the toy to Lyanna, who grasped it with chubby fingers and examined it with wide-eyed wonder.

You smiled at the sight, your heart full. "You spoil her, Cregan. She'll grow up thinking the world revolves around her."

He knelt beside you, his eyes softening. "She deserves to know how much she is loved. Both of you do."

As the seasons changed, Cregan's protectiveness extended to ensuring your well-being as well. He insisted on walking with you whenever you went outside, his arm always ready to support you. He worried if you spent too much time on your feet and made sure you had everything you needed to stay comfortable and happy.

As you sat together in your chambers, Lyanna asleep in her crib, Cregan pulled you into his arms. "You and Lyanna are my everything," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "I would do anything to keep you both safe and happy."

You rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. "We are so lucky to have you, Cregan. I couldn't imagine a better father and husband."

He pressed a kiss to your hair, holding you close. "And I couldn't imagine a life without you both. You are my heart, my reason for everything."

As the months turned into years, the bond between you, Cregan, and Lyanna only grew stronger. Winterfell thrived under Cregan's leadership, and the people respected and admired the love and dedication he showed to his family. Lyanna grew up surrounded by the warmth and strength of her parents' love, knowing she was cherished beyond measure.

On a hot summer day when the sun was blazing hot, all you saw was joy as you watched Cregan and your daughter playing in the courtyard, your heart swelling with happiness. The sight of your husband chasing your giggling daughter, his laughter echoing through the air, was a testament to the life you had built together.

The sight of your husband chasing your giggling daughter, his laughter echoing through the air, was a testament to the life you had built together.

Cregan caught Lyanna and lifted her into the air, her delighted squeals filling the courtyard. "Got you, my little wolf," he said, spinning her around. He brought her close, kissing her cheek as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

You joined them, the three of you basking in the warmth of the summer sun and the love that bound you together. "Our family," you said softly, looking at Cregan and Lyanna with pride. "Our beautiful family."

Cregan smiled, his eyes filled with the same love and devotion that had carried you through the challenges and joys of life. In the heart of Winterfell, amidst the ancient walls and the timeless snow, your love story continued to unfold. It was a story of strength, honor, and unbreakable bonds—a story that would be told for generations to come.

taglist: @benjicotblckwood @travelingmypassion @shoxji @thornsandtulips @spn-obession

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Story request

Reader is a maid to Donna, she is very much good at her job that's why Donna let's her stay. Little did Donna know is that Reader has mind of a psychopath and she is clearly very obsessed with Donna, she always looks at her from afar without Donna knowing and whenever she cleans her clothes she sniffing it to try and smell Donna's scent. Donna doesn't know because reader acts innocent all the time. Reader loves how timid and shy Donna is and is thinking some nasty stuff she would do to her in bed. One time reader couldn't take it anymore so she put Donna in her bed. Donna is afraid in what's happening. Reader then does all the nasty stuff she is thinking. Donna is not supposed to love it bit she does. Reader is very dominant, she does everything to please her lady. Their love making lasted for an hour, Donna is clearly exhausted but satisfied. Reader seeing Donna satisfied is very proud of what she had done. Reader then confess her feelings to her. Donna told her to stay with her forever. Reader kisses her deeply and they slept.

Note: Can you make it very naughty(only if it's okay with you)? Also their love making lasted for probation 7 hours(if you're uncomfortable about this it's okay). Not gn Donna

Smut plsss

Yess!!! Thank you for your request!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :))))

Losing my mind

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem Maid! Reader

Warnings: Smut, Minors DNI, dark themes, dark reader, Reader's POV

Word count: 6,897

Summary: I don't know if I'm in love, or obsessed...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

“Okay, you can stay...”

Those words still resonate in my head when I'm alone, when I think about what I'm doing here, why I was granted the privilege of having you so close to me.

Well, like everything in life, it was a coincidence. I was never a model villager, one who followed the rules of the benevolent Black Gods. I was always one step ahead of that stuff. Mother Miranda, the Lords, the village... Everything was nothing but the universe that surrounded my disturbed mind.

Rebellious, irreverent and problematic, that's how my family defined me. That doesn't matter at all anymore. Despite saying that I had no talent, saying that I would end up being one of the many concubines of the lady of the castle, that never happened.

As a cold and calculating person, I managed to ensure that none of those fates people talked about for me were true. None of their predictions came true because I, always determined to be right, to get those ideas out of their heads, specialized in a job just as boring, but with other objectives.

I was always clear that I was not a piece of meat for someone to use as they pleased, if anyone had to use someone, it would be me, even if it seemed crazy in a place like that. My face is innocent, my mind is not.

Perhaps that physical superficiality granted me the privilege of having a much better job than the rest of those who called themselves my friends. Castle concubine? Never.

Maid? Maybe, that didn't sound so bad, but not just any maid.

I liked risks, always putting myself on the edge of the abyss, risking everything recklessly, and that's what I did when I entered the forest, walking towards an almost forbidden place, the Beneviento Estate.

Showing up like that, without warning, claiming my right to work for one of the bosses was crazy, but I don't regret it.

Donna Beneviento, the youngest of the Lords, the most disturbed, the strangest, the loneliest. No one had ever seen her face. No one had been close to her without feeling the slightest terror. Of course, I've already said it. I was never like the others.

The smile graced my face when her dark figure appeared in the doorway. I was surprised I wasn't afraid. I didn't tremble when she appeared. Again, I came, I watched, and I conquered.

Despite the reluctance the lady in black had with me, despite telling me over and over again she didn't want a maid, in the end, she accepted. Insistence? No, not at all. She could strike me down with just a wave of her hands. Loneliness? It could be. Curiosity? Then we would have something in common.

Sometimes I think that I had very high confidence in everything I did, or maybe I tried harder to maintain that curious job. At first it could well have been like that, at first.

Cooking, cleaning, doing the laundry, making tea... A boring job in a not so boring place. I definitely liked that job. I felt exactly how I wanted, alone, or almost.

The appearances of the lady in black were few, her words nonexistent. She only spoke through that sinister doll, never with her own voice. Dry orders, absurd rules and infrequent thanks, that was all my communication with her, at least the first few weeks.

But just when I thought my life could become normal, the opposite happened. Suddenly I saw myself going up to my room slowly, with my gaze riveted on that portrait, a portrait of the lady in black, with her face uncovered, with her beauty exposed to me.

I was never made of stone. I never denied my attraction to women, especially dangerous women, but that beauty... That went much further than other times. It could be the mystery, that small feeling of intrigue of not knowing how that beauty had been spoiled, of not knowing what was behind that black veil.

Curiosity little by little became obsession, the worst of my sins, the worst of my flaws.

“Here is your tea, my lady,” I said kindly, while the lady in black was studying a book on her desk.

My words bounced off the walls, as if the mansion itself was longing to retain them, as if it had been longing to hear a human being speak for too many years.

She, as usual, shook her head in gratitude. It could have been just another day, another empty interaction, but my hands were already trembling in her presence and my mind had been imagining her for days, near me at night, very close to me.

“Do you need anything else, my lady?” I asked politely, trying to sound like always, like the innocent girl I pretended to be. She turned her head towards me, puzzled by this strange behavior. Maybe it was too obvious, maybe not.

“N-No...” She murmured hoarsely, almost silently, making me freeze on the wooden floor.

That mysterious, whispering, melodic voice, reached my ears to disturb me even more. It was the first time I had listened to it and I knew, to my dismay, I didn't want to stop doing it. But no, I couldn't let my obsession be seen, I couldn't stop being the innocent maid, her innocent maid.

“Okay, I'll leave then,” I said, lowering my head as a sign of respect, the respect she deserved. I turned around, ready to find a corner of the house to clean, a place where I could let myself be carried away by my thoughts, where I could think about that voice, her voice.

“Wait,” the soft, hoarse sound of that voice interrupted my walk and I had to take a deep breath to not get nervous, or rather, to not seem nervous. I composed myself in less than a second and turned around slowly, with that kind look that I knew how to fake that well.

“Do you want anything else from me, my lady?” I asked, slurring my words, feeling the blush creeping up my cheeks.

Maybe I hadn't chosen my words well but no one could blame me, not after hearing that beautiful voice. No, surely my disturbed mind caused me to misinterpret my own words.

“Come,” she ordered me, gesturing with her hand for me to come closer again. I nodded slowly and obeyed immediately, having complete control of my emotions, putting on that innocent maid face.

I got close enough for her perfume to enter my body again, like the few times I managed to get close enough for that to be possible.

Lavender, a beautiful flower, beautiful like her. I could get lost in a lavender field. I wanted to do it, just to live with her smell attached to my body, so my brain wouldn't forget it, so I could feel her close to me. I was rambling again, I had to stop it.

The lady sighed, as if she herself were confused, as if she didn't know what to say. I shouldn't be surprised. She had never spoken to me directly.

“Is the tea not to your liking, my lady?” I asked again, with a look of concern. I wish it had been like that, I wish I could have gotten so close again.

“The tea is fine, (Y/N),” she replied after clearing her throat and shaking her head. “I would like to ask you a question.”

A question. How curious. Since I arrived, Lady Beneviento, Donna, didn't want anything to do with me. She knew my name because I told her. She didn't show the slightest interest. That was something that tormented me, until that moment.

“Fine,” I said, smiling kindly, with my hands in front of my body, playing with each other in a subtle way, thus channeling my nerves, the sensations the lavender perfume sent to my body.

“You don't have to answer, but I would like you to,” Donna whispered, maintaining that mysterious tone, the look that her veil prevented me from seeing, but not intuiting.

“I will be delighted to answer, my lady,” I said, lowering my head again, showing her dominance over me, the superiority that she should have with a maid, with her maid.

She nodded slowly, playing with the tea spoon, pondering what to say, or what to ask. If she didn't know what she wanted to know, why talk to me?

“Why me?” She asked after a few moments of hesitation, making me take a breath and breathe deeply, in an effort to maintain the innocence on my face.

“Excuse me, my lady, but I don't understand you,” I said, curious and confused by that strange question, taking care of even the smallest detail of my voice.

“You are an excellent maid, (Y/N),” she responded, lowering her gaze, removing her invisible eyes from mine. “You cook well, the house is better than ever... Don't get me wrong, I'm delighted with you, you know, being here... But I can't stop thinking about the reasons a girl like you could have to work for me instead of going to the castle.”

Those compliments filtered into my ears, echoing in my mind again and again, almost ignoring the rest of her words. She was delighted with me, but she never showed it, maybe I should have learned to interpret her vague gestures and the Angie doll's words better.

“The castle?” I asked automatically, as if my own mind was giving me a hand so as not to spoil everything, so that my obsessive thoughts would not give me away. Donna nodded slowly again.

“All the girls in the village who want to be maids always go to the castle,” she murmured, pushing aside her veil a to take a sip from her cup of tea. Everything I saw only fueled my dark thoughts more.

Those lips, that pale skin, that woman in the portrait who came to life before my eyes, everything had to be reason enough for my breathing to become heavy. But I couldn't do it, I was her maid, her innocent maid, not the obsessive girl who thought about her every night.

“Well, I'm not like the most of people,” I said amused, with a smile that feigned shyness, that feigned embarrassment because my lady was talking to me. I was always good at pretending, but I didn't know how long I could keep doing it, how long my mask could stay on, having that lavender perfume so close.

“Aren’t you? Why?” Donna asked, curious, gesturing for me to sit in a nearby chair. “Explain yourself.”

I obeyed, sitting in that chair. I was so terribly close to her. Love and obsession are only separated by a very fine line and I didn't even know where that line was, for a long time.

“Well...” I murmured, not knowing exactly what to say, or what she expected me to say. “I never liked doing what others did.”

Donna nodded curiously, tilting her head, as if she were studying my gestures.

“That doesn't answer my question, (Y/N),” she said in a whisper, one that seemed dark, but was surely as innocent as my expression, as my expression was intended to be.

“Well, I...” I said, a bit insecure, trembling involuntarily, seeing myself cornered in my own trap.

“You're nervous,” she interrupted, bringing her body a little closer to mine, as if she had discovered the trembling of my hands, one that I tried to avoid, without success.

“A bit, my lady,” I admitted, much to my regret. It probably wasn't the nervousness she was thinking of, but it could serve as an excuse.

“You’re afraid of me,” the lady in black stated, resting her back on the chair, impatiently tapping her desk with her fingers.

“No, my lady,” I said immediately, removing that idea from her head.

Donna shook her head strangely as if she were thinking my words were a blatant lie. They were not.

“You will be,” she said in a hoarse voice, as if she were trembling, while she brought one of her hands to the black cloth of her face, moving it away so I could look at her.

My eyes widened as I contemplated her beauty, my mouth opened to say something as my memory fixed each of those features in my head. Beautiful, precious, dazzling, those were the words that came to my mind. No, that small defect on her face was not a reason to be scared, but the feelings that began to run through my nervous system were.

But I couldn't stay like that, I had to be innocent, I had to be good, her good maid.

“You're not running away,” she murmured strangely, removing the cloth completely and leaving it on the desk. “Have you been paralyzed?”

I shook my head, realizing this was nothing but a small trap, a test to continue being a maid, her maid. My cold and calculating mind had discovered it on its own and my breathing and trembling relaxed to demonstrate the truthfulness of the words I was going to say.

“Yes, because of her beauty, my lady,” I said with a sweet voice, revealing no other intentions than those of a kind and accommodating maid, although I didn't know if that was really what Donna was hoping to hear.

Her expression changed, as if she had heard something strange.

“Sei una bugiarda...” she whispered, with that darkness that accompanied her gaze. Fortunately, I was prepared for everything, I had been preparing for a conversation with her for too long. “Io sono orribile”

“Non è vero,” I said, bringing out my weapons, demonstrating how valuable I was as a maid.

“You know Italian,” she said, relaxing her expression upon hearing my clumsy and probably terribly mispronounced words.

“A little,” I answered proudly, under her attentive gaze, one that I could already see, one that I could already imagine, that I would no longer be that cold portrait on the stairs. “I learned for you, my lady.”

“For me?” She asked, blinking repeatedly, trying not to get lost in the confusion of your answers, or in your shy look, I didn't know exactly what she could be thinking.

I nodded, with that innocent smile on my face, sighing, indicating that my words were true.

“I like to do my job well, my lady,” I said proudly, to which she finally smiled. She let me see that beautiful smile, one that only appeared in my dreams.

“I've kept you enough, (Y/N), you should get back to your tasks,” Donna said, looking away from me suddenly, frowning, making my smile fade. Just thinking about not smelling that lavender made me sick, but I had to obey, I had to be good, good for her, her good maid.

“Fine, my lady,” I said politely, getting up from the chair and slowly walking away from the desk, repressing the temptation to turn around, to imagine her bright eye was still fixed on my body.

That night was horrible.

Now that I had seen her face, my obsession worsened. And not only had I been lucky enough to contemplate her beauty, but I had been able to have a conversation with her, a real one, a close, although strange, conversation.

As I tossed and turned in bed, I imagined what our future conversations would be like, if they would be about trivial topics, if they would simply be words of gratitude, if I would see that smile again.

My thoughts remained stable, thinking only of innocent acts, of quiet closeness, of simply staying close to that lavender perfume. I knew, I knew that it wouldn't stay that way, I knew what I was like, I knew how damaged my mind was, how that small attraction would lead to the most psychopathic obsession.

For a moment I thought about giving up, about running away from that house so as not to lose my mind anymore, but it seemed impossible. Just as my dreams had predicted, those conversations came, becoming a routine of seemingly empty words, but full of meaning for me.

Love or obsession, what a dichotomy. I didn't know where my limit was, what my real thoughts or feelings for Donna were, I just knew that they were there, that they had been hidden in my subconscious for too long. Love at first sight didn’t exist, but obsession did. So... Was I obsessed? Isn't love an obsession itself?

I should have learned that lesson in time. I should have stopped thinking about Donna at least for a moment and returned to the reality of my world. I was her maid, her good and innocent maid, who hid a demon inside her, a demon that would soon want to come out, and that I had to remain locked up.

But I was always weak to my own desires. My trust with Donna grew so much that I couldn't tell if I was truly serving her or worshiping her. Always keeping my subtle smile, always being the innocent girl she seemed interested in.

Love or loneliness? What was in the feelings of the lady in black? Was it possible that she thought of me in some way? No, it seemed unlikely, not at least in the way my mind strayed from the right path, stopping imagining what her kisses would be like, and starting to think about what her naked body would be like, about the marks that would be on her skin, in those places that my lips wanted to rest on.

The nights became a continuous nightmare, one that I didn't want to leave. My mind imagined places, scenarios in which I got what I wanted, in which our bodies hugged each other naked. I imagined what it would be like to feel her wetness, her arousal as she felt my touch worshiping her skin. I imagined her moans, surely soft and shy, like her. I wondered if she had ever felt that way, if some hateful person had been lucky enough to taste her honey.

Just the fact that this was possible made me burn with rage. No, Donna never had that luck, or that misfortune. She was shy. I was her only human contact, apart from her siblings.

Thinking, recreating in my mind those scenarios in which Donna begged for her release, in which my fingers curled around her body while the sweat covered my back, they were too powerful, so much so that I began to stop dreaming, to act.

Every night my hands traveled over my body, grabbing my clothes as if they were her delicate fingers, as if Donna were the one undressing me. Every night I murmured her name as I pleasured myself, with the image of her in my mind, with her beauty clouding my rational thinking, if there was any left.

Innocent on the outside, sinner on the inside. That was what my conscience was telling me after imagining those events, after imagining what it would be like to have that perfume on my body, what it would be like to scratch her skin while she writhed in pleasure under my gaze.

I was going completely crazy. So much so that I began to notice a lack of inspiration in my nightly binges. Even conversations like the ones we used to have weren't enough anymore. My head memorized each of her words, each of her gestures, but it was no longer enough.

Donna had become a drug for me, and that made my dependence on her grow to the point of spying on her, of looking at her through the crack in the door. Watching how she worked on her dolls, how she handled the porcelain between her fingers, wishing that material would be replaced by my skin.

Like a dangerous stalker, I became her shadow, one that traveled behind her wherever she went. Nothing could stop my obsession, nor my madness. Only her, only Donna could calm my fears, just seeing her act independently, oblivious to the fact that my eyes were watching her, could be a relief for me.

And then, it was time to do the laundry, another problem for me. The lavender perfume was always present in her clothes and I, desperate, obsessed, addicted to it, smelled it in a disturbing way, wishing to never forget that scent, to have it close to me. More nights of self-lust, more thoughts, more lavender, more stalking. That's what I became, sin itself, the complete opposite of what my smile represented.

“No, I couldn't drink any more,” Donna said amused, one night when the fire in the fireplace crackled as if nothing was happening. My innocent look was still on my face as I poured some more liquid into her wine glass.

“Come on, my lady, some more wine won't hurt you. They say it's good for the heart,” I said, kindly, blinking effusively and offering her glass, which she reluctantly took. That late-night talk, adulterated by wine, was the worst thing that could happen to my obsession.

“Is it? Who says that?” She asked, her voice intoxicated by alcohol.

“Me,” I said amused, pointing to myself, bringing my own glass to my lips, but not drinking. I wanted to stay awake, I wanted to see how Donna would behave if she lost a bit, just a bit of her usual shyness.

“You...” She murmured, with a suspicious but childish look at the same time, leaning back on the sofa in an awkward manner, thus revealing her incipient state of intoxication. “You say many things…”

“What things, my lady?” I asked amused, also settling down and raising my eyebrows.

“Lies... You know... Things about me being beautiful, and good...” Donna drawled, finishing her fifth glass of wine in one gulp, making a face of displeasure.

“That’s not a lie, my lady,” I said, maintaining the composure that I was beginning to lack. My gaze became dangerous when I observed her erratic gestures and her nervous laughter, her cheeks flushed with wine.

“Yes, yes, yes... Whatever you say,” she said, nodding comically, looking for the bottle with her hands, something that you prevented, pretending to worry about her.

“I think you have already drunk enough, my lady,” I commented amusedly, moving the bottle out of her reach, making her protest with a moan that I found amusing and exciting... No, I couldn't get carried away. Her condition was my fault.

“My lady, my lady...” She mocked, putting a finger on my chest and pushing me against the sofa. I laughed, surprised, but I let her act on her own. “Why so many my lady?”

“Because you are my lady, and I’m your maid,” I explained in a calm voice, sitting up, studying her state calmly.

“Oh, really? I thought we were friends,” Donna said, with an accusatory tone, completely distorted by intoxication. I remained thoughtful, trying not to react to those words as my body asked me to.

“Well, yes, we are friends, but above all, you’re my lady,” I said, with a calm tone, observing her erratic movements, her shy laugh that shook my nerves again.

Donna looked at me, her eye shining with alcohol, but with a strange expression, approaching little by little, crawling along the sofa until she was very close to me, so close that the delicious aroma of lavender mixed with the wine clouded my senses, again.

“I like that we're friends,” she whispered, too close to my lips, too close to allow me to think with any clarity.

“Me too, my lady,” I said, trying not to look at her tender, half-open lips, trying not to get lost in her closeness, in her intoxicating perfume, adulterated by the wine.

“If you say my lady one more time, I'll fire you,” she said with an amused voice, pushing me again. I remained calm, raising my eyebrows, but not moving.

“What do you want me to call you?” I asked politely, letting her hand travel to mine. Donna had a lost, lowered gaze, looking at everything and seeing nothing. Her warm hand passed through mine, her fingers played with mine. I couldn't think it was a dream, it wasn't.

“Donna,” she whispered, looking at me sharply, with a confused expression, blinking, as if she were about to lose consciousness.

“Donna...” I repeated, letting my intentions reveal themselves. She wasn't going to notice. I doubted she even knew where she was.

She was too drunk, and I was too in love, or obsessed, or both. Her confused face gave a small smile and her lips came dangerously close to mine, tempting me, making her have to pray to the Gods not to make that mistake, that much-desired mistake.

“I like the way it sounds…” She whispered, just before placing her lips on mine, just before her temptation stopped being so. It hadn't been me, it had been her. She was kissing me. My torment, my relief, my drug and my salvation was kissing me and I couldn't react any other way.

The smell of lavender mixed with the taste of her lips, with that touch of wine that made me regret that she was really acting involuntarily. Her lips were soft, heavenly caresses that mingled with mine, with my experience making up for her lack of it. A first kiss to be ashamed of, endless sensations, food for the thoughts of my disturbed mind.

She grunted, after a few moments that I wanted to be eternal, after some messy and clumsy kisses, but that seemed sincere, they seemed. Donna collapsed onto my chest, being held by my arms. As if those kisses hadn't happened, her body shifted in mine. Donna was drunk. She kissed you because of the wine, not because of her feelings. That phrase my conscience repeated was like a sharp dagger to my heart.

“Do you feel sick?” I asked politely, not mentioning what had just happened. She shook her head with another grunt, getting more comfortable on your chest.

“I'm… Sleepy,” she murmured, yawning, making it clear that none of those kisses were really sincere.

For once in all the time you had been in the mansion, your good side, your side lacking psychopathy, prevailed over the demon. No, you weren't going to take advantage of that opportunity, you couldn't do it. At least you had some humanity left.

“Come, let's go to bed,” I said, helping the lady in black to get up, to which she protested with more childish grunts.

That night I cried.

I cried for those kisses, for that impulsive act that Donna did involuntarily. Those kisses, the taste of her lips, the lavender, everything was so perfect that it seemed unreal, and in part, it was.

My mind had saved my soul from committing an atrocity, but the demon inside me screamed louder than ever. Only I had two options left: run away, or give up.

Neither was acceptable, but a third way appeared again in my thoughts, one that had the same voice as the devil, one that screamed at me to take what I wanted, to stop pretending to be the good girl and take out the light my true personality.

It was afternoon, so the clocks said. Donna had a hard day and I decided to leave her alone for the moment. It was the first time I failed to fulfill my maid duties. My mind schemed, plotting the best way to carry out my desires. The sensations of her kisses, the images my mind had created, all of it broke the last thread of sanity I had left. You should never have kissed me, Donna.

I walked quickly, following my intuition, following the steps I knew I had to take to find her. I grabbed her wrist, fighting not to hear her questions, or her protests. I guided her towards the bedroom, furious, letting myself be carried away by the evil inside me. I couldn't hear Donna, I couldn't tell if she was protesting or quiet. Her body was weak compared to my pulls. It wasn't difficult for me to drag her to the bedroom.

Once there, I closed the door and pushed my lady against the wall, cornering her with my body. Her eyes were scared and her chest was rising and falling quickly. She had no escape, she couldn't escape me anymore.

“(Y/N), what are you doing?” She asked with her voice broken by fear, by the change from my innocent look to an evil one, by the vision I had of the demon that had dominated my body.

“I'm sorry, but I can't take it anymore. You can kill me, fire me if you want, but you couldn't stop me from taking what I want...”  I whispered, getting closer to her lips, dragging the words, which came furiously from my mouth.

“What do you want?” She asked, trembling, cornered. I, (Y/N), a simple villager, had put a Lord on the ropes. Surely songs would be sung about me if I didn't survive.

“I want you,” I said quickly, wasting no time, throwing myself at her soft lips, enjoying them like the night before, knowing that the wine was no longer in them, knowing that both of us could feel everything that was going on.

It could be my imagination, but if you asked me, I could swear that she kissed me back, that her lips tasted mine the same way. It was a shame that my desire was stronger than those sensations.

Quickly, leaving no room for doubt, not allowing Donna to escape my clutches, I roughly lunged for the buttons on her dress, making them disappear under my experienced fingers. She just panted confusedly, not knowing what to do or what to say. She shouldn't want it, she shouldn't like it, but somehow, she did.

Her hands grabbed my face, bringing it closer to hers, pulling it until our lips collided again, more fiercely, without the feeling of not knowing if at some point she was going to get rid of me. She didn't seem to want to do it, but I didn't care, I kept working on her clothes, sinking into her neck, moving my body against hers, covering myself in lavender.

My leg landed between hers, causing her head to tilt back, giving me the room to push that dress of hers away from her skin, to reveal her pale, beautiful, naked torso to me.

I couldn't entertain myself, but still, I did, I stopped to contemplate her unmatched beauty, the softness of her skin as my hands brushed it. She trembled, but she no longer did it out of fear. Her eye was closed and her breathing was rapid, her body moving involuntarily against mine.

My madness was unleashed, but so was my desire, and so was hers. The kisses bounced off the walls, the hands wandered over her body, over my body. Feeling the softness of her touch on my skin made me want more, much more.

“(Y/N)...” Donna murmured, moving away from my wild actions, looking at me with an expression that I couldn't interpret.

Trying to silence the voices in my head, those orders that the demon was giving me, I gently grabbed her wrist, pulling her until she fell on the bed, crawling, as if she wanted to escape from me.

“You don't know how sorry I am...” I said, also climbing onto the bed, grabbing her wrists, putting them on either side of her head so she couldn't move. “But I have to do it…”

“Do it,” Donna said, with a firm, confident look, with her fists clenched and breathing hard.

I wasn't expecting that answer, I was confused, thinking more rationally, thinking that maybe I should stop following the delusions of my mind. But that look, her half-bare chest, her glowing skin, the lavender. Everything made me let her wrists go, just to caress her arms, to climb onto her hips while my lips devoured hers again.

Her hands, now free, traveled along my back, searching for the closure of my maid's dress, which soon gave way, with a growl from my lips, removing that fabric from me, the fabric that separated my body from hers.

Clothes flew across the room and I was about to thank the Gods that I was still alive to see what was in front of me. Her naked chest, her womanly forms that were not of this world and that were now at my mercy. My lips acted before my mind, traveling to her breasts hungrily, devouring, licking her flesh like a beast, like a predator that hunted her prey.

Like a chant I remembered from dreams, Donna moaned as my teeth made contact with her most sensitive spots. Her hands moved erratically over my body while mine had a clear goal.

The bottom of her dress gave way quickly, aided by a gentle movement of her hips.

Suddenly, my lady's shyness returned to her gaze, causing her hands to leave my naked body to cover her shame, that which was still hidden by her underwear. I blinked and took a breath, relaxing my dominant attitude for a moment and removing those hands from my target.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of, Donna, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” I whispered, very close to her ear while my hands moved hers, moving them to either side of her hips. She looked at me, as if in silent supplication. I didn't know exactly why she was pleading and I didn't want to know.

“(Y/N) I...” She began, interrupted by my hand on her mouth. No, I didn't want to talk. There would be time to talk, to die, to flee… Now was not the time, my body didn't want to stop, neither did hers, shaking her hips against mine, making me close my eyes from the contact.

“Shh, my Donna... I'll take care of you...” I said with a somewhat perverse whisper, but that made the lady nod, closing her eye while my fingers removed the black fabric that covered the last part of her naked body, that obvious humidity I imagined possessing in my dreams.

She didn't protest anymore, she simply moaned when one of my fingers had the courage, or the audacity, to run through the moisture lying between her legs, caressing her superficially while my gaze observed her gestures, the blush of her cheeks.

That made me smile, adding another finger to that lustful way, going deeper, savoring with my fingers the humidity of her folds, each and every one of the sensations she felt with it.

I tried to say something, something to accompany my gestures, something that would help Donna stop shaking, so she would stop fearing what was to come. I smiled again when I realized, when I knew that only I had come this far, that no one else had been able to enjoy that touch, that her body was mine, only mine.

I leaned down to kiss her slowly, while my fingers continued playing between her legs, gently making circles on her clit, causing my lips to vibrate with her moans.

“Wait, please,” Donna said hurriedly, pushing you away from her lips. I looked at her furiously, just when I believed that there were no longer any doubts, that I would be free to do as I pleased.

I didn't say anything, I just waited for her to speak, which she didn't do. She just looked at me with curiosity, with fear.

“I won't hurt you,” I said, thinking that maybe it would be her fear, that her fear of her first time was overshadowing the pleasure. “I promise.”

Donna shook her head, cupping my face in her hands, scratching my cheeks with her nails.

“Be gentle, I’m begging you,” she whispered to me, with her eye closed, with her nails damaging my skin, with the trembling of her body making mine move involuntarily, seeking the contact of my bare hips with her thigh.

“You are my lady, I couldn't be any other way,” I said with a cold, impatient voice, with a disturbed look that made her sigh in fear, letting my hand rest on her chest, pushing her roughly against the mattress. “Lie down and shut up. I promise you that you will enjoy it,” I ordered with the demon inside me guiding my dominant words. She nodded scared and that was more than enough for my hand to return to her wetness, for my fingers to continue gently stimulating her.

“But...” She murmured, squirming involuntarily with pleasure.

“Taci, Donna,” I said with a stern voice, pushing her body back onto the mattress. She looked at me with fear, with real fear, but her face relaxed, stopping looking at me, closing her eye to suppress her shame.

Before having to get more serious, before bringing to light all the desire I had to dominate her, I decided to take the step. I decided to gradually introduce the tips of my fingers into her, into her eager humidity, excited despite her doubts.

Donna grimaced strangely, surprised by the sensation, but not in pain, or so it seemed. Dark thoughts came to my mind again, deducing that just as I suspected, she was a human being with the needs of a human being. Yes, it was obvious that she had enjoyed her own body. It didn't matter if she denied it to me. I knew she did.

That made me moan, lunging at her neck, rubbing filthy on her leg as my fingers did their work at her entrance, sliding in and out of her, making her arms, erratic and trembling, embrace what they could of my body.

There were no more protests, no complaints, no fears. Only moans, only the wet sound of my fingers playing inside of her, running along her walls, enjoying that unique softness, the scratches of her nails on my back.

But, like lavender, that sensation had to be better, I had to feel it more, to taste it until my smell was confused with hers.

Devoting one last look to her expression, which betrayed the immense pleasure she was feeling, I moved down her torso, covering her pale, shiny skin with kisses, making her beauty mine.

The taste of her arousal was overwhelming, as was the movement of her hips when my tongue made contact with her skin. I wanted to drink her, eat her, devour her, possess her, make me her mine. My mouth moved furiously, eagerly, accompanied by her faithful moans, almost exhausted. My fingers didn’t stop moving, harmonizing with my kisses, with the caresses of my mouth on her folds, with those moans that I myself made when I felt all the essence of her covering my body.

Little by little, her body began to move in a different way. Her instincts had taken over, her release was close. Leaving aside my own desire, I focused on making her feel that way, on seeing that expression that I could only imagine, that I could only dream of.

An indiscreet moan, possibly audible throughout the mansion, let me know that the end had come, that her ecstasy was coursing through her body while a firm and curiously mischievous hand kept me in that place, as if she were the one who didn't want me to escape. She wanted me to continue with my kisses, with my caresses.

There was a moment of silence and I closed my eyes, catching my breath. The sight of her body, of her chest rising and falling quickly dispelled my evilness. It wasn't regret, but it was a wish to give her an explanation, for her to know why. I gave her one last kiss on her wetness and climbed up her body, settling next to hers, not daring to look at her face.

“(Y/N)...” The lady sighed, moving my face to meet hers.

“I love you,” I said, with a sad tone, with a regretful tone but at the same time satisfied, proud of having made her feel that pleasure. “I'm sorry, Donna, I'm in love with you.”

“Why are you sorry?” She asked, snuggling into my chest, tired, drowsy from her release.

“Because I made a mistake and you will never be able to forgive me,” I confessed, with eyes full of tears, knowing this was the beginning of my end, although really, my fears were not letting me see the reality of the situation.

“I won't forgive you if you abandon me, (Y/N)” she said, with a pleading eye, looking at me with a different face, one I had never seen before, one... In love?

“Do you mean...?” I asked a bit confused, also tired from passion. She nodded, intertwining our fingers.

“Yes, I love you, (Y/N), I love you and I don't want you to leave, I want you to do more things like this to me, I want you to live with me, not be my maid, I want you to stay with me, forever.”

My lips didn't wait to hear more. They kissed her deeply, showing how happy it made me not to have made that mistake, showing that with her, my sanity would return to my heart.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

This one guy I talked to on AO3 said that Emilie shouldn't be brought back because Adrien has already moved on from her death, but I'm not so sure about that. Other people think she should be revived so she can be her own character and not just someone else's sad backstory, and so Adrien has one good parent, of course. What do you think?

I think that it depends on the story you want to tell. There are cases to be made for bringing her back and cases to be made for letting her die. In the context of canon, I find not bringing her back to be fing stupid because it makes everything feel pointless. We obviously don't know the wish yet, but why let Gabe make the wish at all if he's not going to restore Emilie? Making a different wish isn't him being a good guy at the end. It's still him playing god, he's just now using his god powers to abandon his son for no logical reason. What loving father happily leaves his son an orphan???

Yeah, Gabriel saved Nathalie. I don't care. Nathalie chose to use the peacock to support Gabriel in his plan to terrorize Paris. That wasn't some noble sacrifice on her part! She didn't deserve to be saved any more than Gabriel did. Of the three dying/dead parental figures (I really don't know Emilie's status) Emilie is the only one who was never tempted by the dark side if we ignore the uncomfortable implications of how they got the peacock in the first place/Adrien's childhood isolation and just embrace the canon narrative that Emilie was a good and loving mother who was Too Pure For This World.

Meanwhile, Nathalie was a terrible mother figure! She supported Gabriel's awful treatment of Adrien for four seasons and then spent all of season five gently prodding Gabriel to change/tell Adrien the truth while leaving Adrien completely in the dark to everything that was happening. If Gabriel hasn't won, then Adrien would have lost both his father and Nathalie who knew that they were dying, but never gave Adrien a chance to say goodbye because Nathalie never stopped putting Gabriel first in almost every way that mattered. Adrien still doesn't know that he could have been allowed say goodbye to his father because Gabriel's death was entirely predictable.

Along similar lines, I don't think that Nathalie was wrong to undo Gabriel's senticommands, but it is deeply messed up that she was happily doing it in secret and never once considered giving Adrien a chance to consent. A loving parent should find the idea of controlling their child deeply upsetting. She should have been tempted to tell Adrien the truth, especially since she knew that she was dying, but we never see her consider that.

She also does nothing to get Adrien's slave collar away from Gabriel or to stop Gabriel from terrorizing Paris even though we have a scene where she literally pins Gabriel to a table. Her turn to "good" did nothing but maintain the status quo because she continued to support Gabriel in all the ways that truly matter. She never really protects Adrien. She does not deserve to be Adrien's new mother. #BringEmilieBack!!!

All of that is assuming that Gabriel's wish saved Nathalie while sacrificing himself and Emilie. If so, then that is literally the most boring way to go about letting the wish happen. You could have just as easily had Gabriel lose and have Ladybug know a way to save Nathalie via Guardian magic. The end result would have been the same.

If Gabriel had chosen to give up on the wish entirely? Then Emilie not coming back would be a satisfying ending. I personally really like Gabriel being defeated and the heroes then bringing Emilie back. Very much a spite move for me, plus it's a nice way to lessen the sting of Gabriel's defeat. Adrien losing his father, but gaining his mother feels really satisfying to me, especially if Emilie gets to serve Gabriel divorce papers. Got your wish, old man. Now suffer for it.

No matter the case, saying that Emilie shouldn't be brought back because Adrien has moved on is bad logic as it implies that Emilie is only worth bringing back if Adrien say he wants her back, as if she's a beloved childhood toy that someone broke long ago. It also implies that Adrien wouldn't want her back just because he's accepted her loss. Those are two very different things. Imo, one of the show's failings is the fact that Adrien is denied the right to grieve as if that makes him a better person. A better show would show healthy grief vs unhealthy grief (Adrien vs Gabe). She's been gone less than a year when the story starts. Everyone processes grief different, but that's really fast to move on from the death of a parent.

[my-castles-crumbling]

hi!! can you write a wolfstar fic with jealous remus? <33

Sure!

A/U: Everyone lives (not that it matters here, but I need to know that they live happily ever after), No Voldemort

Rating: T

It had been three weeks, four days, twenty-two hours, and five minutes since their first kiss.

Not that Remus was counting. But if he was, he would say that the past three weeks, four days, twenty-two hours, and five minutes had felt like some sort of dream, the kind that he couldn't possibly have made up on his own because it was too perfect, too amazing.

He still had to remind himself, on the daily, that Sirius actually liked him, that he, too, wanted to snog him every chance he got and hold his hand, and just stare like a lovesick idiot. It didn't make sense that Sirius would feel the same way, but he did.

Prongs jokingly called them disgusting, but all their friends had been thrilled for them that they'd finally realized their feelings. Apparently, Sirius had been pining almost as long as he had. They both wanted to kick themselves when they figured it out.

What was more, Sirius was so affectionate, so blatant about his love for Remus. It was so strange to him, but it gave him such a warm, safe feeling every time Sirius reached for him or perched himself in Remus's lap. Soon, he found himself reaching back, initiating. It was like Sirius was a comfort blanket- he felt most at ease when he was within arm's reach.

Which is why, after a long day of classes, he ached to find Sirius, to pull him into his arms, to breathe in the scent of his hair potion and hear him murmur horribly crass jokes in his ear.

He almost screamed when he found Sirius already on their favorite couch by the fire in the Common Room. With Mia Turner perched on his goddamn lap.

Remus was normally not a jealous person. He was the opposite of entitled- if somebody took something from him or had something he wanted, he just resigned himself to the fact that he probably didn't deserve it in the first place.

But after the weeks of bliss, of affection and warmth and comfort and happiness...he felt a fire rage in his stomach that he'd never truly felt before.

Because now that he had something so amazing, something he'd been wanting so long, he wasn't about to let Mia fucking Turner take it from him.

He stalked up to the pair, standing right on front of them, locking eyes with Sirius, who he immediately saw looked deeply uncomfortable and not at all like he was enjoying himself. "--so like I said, I'm not interested, so maybe..." Sirius trailed off, still addressing the oblivious Mia, who was too busy batting her eyelashes at Sirius to notice Remus towering above them.

"But we have so much in common," she purred, lightly tracing her fingertips over the collar of his leather jacket and practically breathing in his ear. "I mean...we both like leather."

Remus resisted the urge to punch something.

And Sirius was too busy looking at Remus, a smirk curling on his lips, to reply to Mia.

Remus took a steadying breath. "Actually, he prefers jumpers," he corrected in a light tone, tugging absentmindedly against the hem of his own oversized woolen jumper, the same one that Sirius had ripped over his head the previous evening.

Mia gaped.

"I like them best when they're on the floor," Sirius grinned, eyes glistening. "But I'm not picky."

They shared a heated glance before Remus met Mia's still-shocked eyes. "Guess you're not wanted here," he told her, a bit more viciously than he meant to, but he really couldn't be bothered.

She scampered off, face red and looking furious.

"Moony, where the fuck did that come from?" Sirius asked with an incredulous smile, standing from the couch and placing one hand on Remus's chest.

"I waited for two years for you, Sirius. I'm not letting anybody else get anywhere near you, now," Remus whispered a bit gruffly in his ear, wrapping his arms around Sirius's slim waist, finally relaxing.

And apparently Sirius enjoyed this sentiment quite a lot, because he pulled Remus into a heated kiss, then grabbed his hand and led him to the stairs.

Both the leather and the jumper ended up discarded on the dorm room floor only minutes later.

-

Hope you enjoyed! I would love more prompts if people want to send them! Wolfstar, Jegulus, Drarry, or Dorlene!

[parvulous-writings]

Hey! I saw that Bill and Ted were on the list that you write for, and I was wondering if you could do a Bill x Ted x gn!reader where y/n is autistic and they have a shutdown where they go nonverbal and everything feels uncomfortable (touch/sound/etc). Which in turn causes them to feel worse because now y/n feels like they're being a burden to their partners, but Bill and Ted will not let them believe that /Can be mostly fluff with a small bit of angst //you don't have to include this, but I do hc both Bill and Ted as neurodivergent, so if you want to input that you can 🌟

///This request does kinda stem from personal experiences, and I just needed some fictional comfort 😭

////Stay hydrated and I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day/evening! 😊

Summary: Bill and Ted try to help you as much as they can whilst you have a shutdown

Warnings: Description of autistic shutdown, descriptions of overwhelming spaces. There's nothing too graphic or anything, though! Gender-neutral use of dude, that's just how they talk 0-0

Words:

Notes: I am so SO sorry this took so long - I was just determined to pour my heart and soul into this, as it struck me very deeply! I hope I can do this justice! Also trying out a slightly new format which is strange to me 0-0  My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!  Original character list - please request for these too!

not my gif

Somehow, the pair of music-loving young men had managed to convince you to go with them to a local concert. How they had coaxed you into it, you weren't entirely sure - their voices had overlapped so much and so many times that you weren't quite sure who was speaking when. "Listen, it's all going to be okay! I mean, it'll be loud, but you'll be with us, we'll cover your ears if you need it!" The shorter of the two, Bill, assured you. He was already clearly ecstatic, practically bouncing as he shifted his weight back and forth on his feet. You hadn't even given a response yet, and he was already over the moon. "Yeah, you'll be with us!" Ted echoed, a huge, almost goofy smile on his face. Though the taller of the two seemed much slower in his movements, there was no doubt that he was just as excited as his best friend.

You had tried to explain that that wasn't always how it worked with your sensitivity, but no matter what you said, they always seemed to have an answer or a solution to every potential problem you presented them with. They were just so stoked at the idea you might join them to this concert - the event they had been waiting for months upon months to go to. The one thing that they had begged their parents to attend; that Bill had easily managed to cajole Missy to let him go to, and that Ted had somehow managed to convince his father that it wasn't anything nefarious, that he would be safe. They had already begun packing for you before you had a chance to properly consider - they were very sweet about it all, but your voice was very quiet compared to their overlapping chatter.

Three bags - backpacks - was what they ended up packing. "I think that should be enough..." Bill said to Ted, as the taller of the two was bringing more water into the garage from the house. "Are you sure?" Ted asked, "What if we run out of water? Don't want to ruin our throats, dude..." "I'm sure there'll be some there! Missy'll give us a bit of money, too..." Bill replied, starting to do up the backpacks, making sure everything was packed properly - maximising space whilst also ensuring that everything was at least somewhat secure, particularly the bottles of water. It simply wouldn't have done to have one of them burst in the bag, and soak one of your backs, especially when you were all going to be standing for so long. You stood there, awkwardly as the two friends rushed back and forth, making sure that everything was as they had planned. "Hey," Ted's voice broke you from a thoughtless daze. You blink a few times, and turn your gaze to him. "You okay?" He asks, his brows furrowed with boyish concern - he wasn't sure what was going through your head, but the worry was genuine, that much was clear to see.

You consider his question for a moment, before settling on your answer: "I'm... not sure...?" Ted is clearly puzzled by this response, so you fumble your way through a half explanation. "Well... I do want to go with you guys-" "You are coming with us!" Ted interjects, quite gleefully. "What I mean is, I... I'm really anxious about it- I've never done something like this before, I've never... been comfortable, with this kind of thing..." "Well..." Ted starts, trailing off for a moment. He must be trying to make some connections in his head. "Well, you'll be with us... " He repeats the mantra like statement that he and Bill had adopted since they broke the news to you that morning. "So, that'll help, right?" He asks - you had never been entirely open with the two about how some things would affect you in a drastically different way to what it affected them. Crowds overwhelmed you, excessive noise debilitated you and made you ever so irritated you, and change... Well, you had never let anyone but your family see the results and ramifications change had on you, but needless to say, it was unpleasant. Ted's quasi-reassurance came from a good place in his heart, but you weren't as sure that their presence alone would calm or aid you. You stay quiet for a moment, considering your options. Yes, you could refuse, and save yourself the potential overwhelming environment, but disappoint your friends... OR, you could risk it, make them possibly the happiest you've seen them in a long time, and it could all be okay. There was no way of telling. You sigh quietly, then offer Ted a tiny smile. "Yeah, I guess that could help...."

Before you had even entered the venue, there were hundreds of people, all swarmed together, bustling little bubbles of activity that you would rather avoid. Both Bill and Ted were in their element already, eyes widened with wonder and anticipation. This was what their whole lives had led up to so far. This moment - seeing a band in the flesh, and their excitement was starting to bubble up, with the evening barely started. You grab Bill's arm with both hands, pulling yourself close to him. He glances at you, and is about to say something - his mouth half open as the words begin to form - before he is interrupted by a cheer from one of the groups ahead of you, as the doors to the venue are finally opened.

Bill and Ted quicken their pace - they so badly want to get in there, find a good spot for you all. So eager are they, that they drag you head on into the flowing crowd. Bodies are pressed against bodies, all moving as one, never stopping. You're being pushed by people behind you, pulled by Bill, and by Ted. Your feet can hardly keep up - the minimal room to move not helping you at all. You stumbled along, with no choice in the matter. You feel your chest tighten - the night had only just set into motion, and already, it was starting to get to you. You tried to call out, to get the attention of one of your friends, but naturally your voice is lost in the sea of the rest. You try tugging at Bill's sleeve, and then Ted's - but because so many others had done the same in the last few minutes, that they didn't take any notice whatsoever. They keep pushing forward, dragging you with them despite your reluctance. It was all too much. You had no way to tell them, but it was too much.

You can feel your eyes start to almost glaze over as your voice dies in your throat. You can still see everything, but it felt... Far away, now. All of the noises that surrounded you blur and fade, becoming one distant and droning hum. You're rooted to the spot, though you're still somewhat aware of the fact that people are still knocking into your arms, shoving past you to make their way into the venue. It was a few minutes later, when Ted went to turn to you to say something about how totally amazing this was going to be, that they knew you had gone. Ted grabbed Bill's arm, shaking it violently to make sure he got his attention. Bill turned, brows furrowed, almost in annoyance as he pulled his arm away from his friend's grasp. "Dude, what-" "Listen - our trio's turned to two!" Ted exclaimed over the noise, grabbing Bill's wrist again. He dragged the curly haired teen back through the crowd, Bill struggling at almost every step. There was a flurry of questions from him: "What the hell do you mean, dude?" and "Why are we going back to the doors? We're going to miss it!" were the only ones that Ted managed to make out. He knew, that if Bill had realised you weren't with them, he'd be just as concerned as he was. Ted cranes his neck, scanning over the top of the crowd, looking for you. It's not as simple as it sounds: there are at least ten other people who he initially thought were you, but quickly came to realise they were not.

It took a few minutes, but eventually, they did find you. And, immediately, they knew something was wrong - of course, they didn't know exactly what, but, concert or no, they knew they had to help. "Let's try getting outside." Bill suggested to Ted, despite his earlier protestations that they would miss the show. When faced with the decision of your well-being and comfort, or a live show, it was a no-brainer. Carefully, trying not to startle you, they took your arms. You were almost like a ragdoll in their hands as they started to move to the back of the crowd, but suddenly you're pulling against them, resisting, trying to wrestle your arms from their hands. You'd snapped back to reality, feeling every sensation there was to feel; the overwhelming noise, the heat of so many bodies packed closely together, the tight grip of Bill and of Ted. You wanted none of it. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you struggle, and soon enough, Ted let's go, motioning for Bill to do the same. You draw in on yourself, holding your hands to your ears and looking down at the floor, trying your best to minimise the amount of stimuli your brain was taking in. It worked, to some extent. You feel a quick, but firm, tap on your shoulder - someone trying to get your attention. Your eyes dart up, mostly out of habit, to see Ted waving at you, his smile nervous and unsure. He beckons to you, silently calling you forward, and you shuffle slightly in compliance. It's difficult to move, but you register that both Bill and Ted are trying to help you get out of this situation.

Eventually, you're all outside, and Bill is trying to guide you to sit on the floor so you can rest for a moment, which proves extraordinarily difficult to him when he realises he can't touch you more than a tap. You both manage it though, and Bill and Ted sit either side of you, like they do ordinarily. You all stay quiet for a while - both of them expecting you to speak first, to say that everything is okay, that you're fine. But you don't. You just sit there, tears rolling down your face. Ted leans forward, waving a little to get your attention again, "You okay?" He asks, his voice quiet, unsure. You just turn your head towards him, unable to answer. You wanted to - oh how you wished to be able to! But... At the same time, speaking felt like it would be too much now. Ted didn't really know how to take your silence. Was it good? Bad? His eyes flitted to Bill, who instantly made eye contact; clearly they were thinking along the same line. There's a moment of tension, where the two boys seem to be mentally battling to see who should speak first. Bill eventually opens his mouth. "We're sorry..." He begins, "We.. We should have listened to you, about the concert and..." He trails off with a light sigh - not at you, but at himself. At Ted. They should have listened to you - should have arranged to do something else. You hear something rustle from beside you, and as you turn you see Ted offering you one of the bottles of water he and Bill had packed. "Drink, dude..." The dark haired boy urged. He knew you needed something, and that you may be in a state, but they both still want to take care of you, even if they were the main cause of the problem in the first place. Their hearts were in the right place, and now they wished to try and make up for their mistake. Bill wished that he had thought of your perspective a bit more, and sooner. He had been so wrapped up in his desire - which had practically become a need - to see this concert, that his mind could barely focus on anything else. His chest ached with the guilt of what he had brought on to you; he knew all too well what the overwhelm could feel like, and so did Ted. But their focus on the concert had thrown all other considerations out of the window, for both of them.

You shakily take the bottle from Ted, to find it already undone. You glance in thanks to him -unable to smile- before bringing the bottle to your mouth and taking the smallest of sips. It was all you could muster for the time being. "I have an idea!" Bill announced, a tad too loud for your liking, making you flinch. Bill notices, and winces too, giving you an apologetic look. "I was thinking..." His voice is softer now, more like a whisper. "We take you back to yours..." He points at you, "So that you can rest up... Y'know, sort yourself out and everything... We can stay if you want to, but-" He pauses, realising he's getting carried away with himself and starting to ramble. "And then..." He continues, back on his original train of thought. "When you're ready... You can come over to my place, and we can jam out." He gives you that trademark goofy little smile, all teeth and just reaching his eyes. There's a question teetering in your mind, bouncing around; one you can't yet voice. Ted, somehow manages to read your mind at that very moment; "Jam? You mean, we'll be using the guitars?" He considers for a moment, "I don't know... Your dad said he doesn't want to hear any bad playing anymore... and I'm not tryin' to say anything about your playing-" Ted turns to you, totally sincere, "But I don't think it's... Eddie Van Halen level yet, dude..." "Well, it can be with or without the guitars." Bill responds, "I mean, we've got the guitars to get to Van Halen's level." He shrugs, "And who cares what my dad says? It's not like he's there most of the time."

Ted considers his friend's words for a moment, his brows furrowed as if he had been posed with a very serious philosophical question, lips pursed in thought to complete the look. After a few seconds of this, Ted nods enthusiastically, seemingly satisfied with this answer, his grin returning. "It's settled then!" Bill announces with a grin just as wide as Ted's, and with the gusto of the old shining knights of yore. "We take our good fellow here," He gestures to you broadly with his hand, "Back to their dwelling for the eve. And then!" He points dramatically to the sky with one finger. "We shall wait to the morn... To jam!" You giggle quietly, and Bill's joyous face turns back to you, all teeth and smiles still. Ted's face lights up too, and the two boys meet eyes before doing their natural greeting to one another - an epic air guitar gesture that had become customary for them after so many years of being friends. It's not long after that, that the three of you are walking down the path to your home - taking up the entire pavement as you stand with all your shoulders practically touching, though the pair were careful to make sure that they didn't accidentally brush against you on the way back - they didn't want to upset you again. Bill actually nearly ended up falling into the road a couple of times because of this mindset, so ended up switching places with Ted. Then the same thing happened to him! The pair were laughing merrily at one another as they walked you down your drive. "I'll come see you at lunchtime tomorrow..." Bill says to you as you step onto your porch. "And then we can go pick up Ted on the way to mine, if you want to jam... If not, we could all hang out at your place, if you wanted?" Bill offered, and you nod slowly, "But you can tell us tomorrow, if you want, or later - if you can call?" Bill rambles a little, grinning at you. Though he still feels a bit guilty about the fact that his actions had upset you, he knew that you would all be able to work through it eventually; your reaction, to him and Ted at least, was perfectly natural. They may have had similar ones had they been put in a situation they had deemed unsuitable for themselves - Ted had certainly lashed out in the past because of the very same thing.

"But yeah, lunchtime tomorrow-" Bill repeats, "Don't forget!" He tells you, as if you ever would. With that, Bill and Ted scurry off into the evening air- the memory of the concert left behind and forgotten in favour of the plans the pair had started to make, in preparation for the next time the three of you got to spend time together, whether that be tomorrow, or even days in the future.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Hero with Phoenix powers, die and comes back every time- and villain, someone who killed him once, now cares deeply for him and hates everytime he has to "clean up the mess" of hero when he comes back. (Taking care of him as he slowly heals)

U amazing, I feel scared to send a ask sometimes because I feel like I'm annoying so I hope I'm not annoying-

Undoubtedly, the worst part was the burnt skin. Regenerating took time and it was a messy process. But what the villain loathed the most was the burnt skin that healed and needed over a week to thread itself back into an acceptable state.

It was so bad, in fact, that the hero could only lie in bed in agony. Touching the bedsheets was painful and not even cold clothes could help them.

Talking was difficult for the hero, so the villain didn't force them. At first, it had been an uncomfortable silence but after the third death, the villain wasn't bothered by it anymore and the hero didn't seem to be either.

And now the villain was staring at the great hero, gasping for air as their back rose and fell with every breath being taken in. The skin on their back was red, partially burnt, partially open and no matter how much time the villain put into research, no treatment was helping.

"It's a natural process," the hero had said once. "No matter how many times you google 'burnt skin treatment,' it will never give you the result on how to fix me."

But that wasn't really what the villain wanted, now was it? They wanted to make it easier. The hero didn't need repairment. Not at all.

It was the first time that they were at the villain's place. Usually, they managed to get home in time but last week had been anything but pretty. It had been a violent death. Slow and bloody. A cut throat.

The villain didn't want to think about their limp body in their arms. They'd spent hours trying to wash the blood out of their and the hero's clothes.

"Do you need anything?" the villain asked quietly, too afraid to raise their voice. As if by doing that alone, they could hurt the hero's fragile body.

The hero didn't answer and the villain didn't hold it against them. Existing was probably too painful for them right now anyway and the villain already regretted that they had asked.

So, instead of bothering the hero any more, the villain decided to make lunch. Despite the state of their body, the hero had to eat something.

The villain turned around and took a second to collect themselves. However, when they finally felt ready to leave the hero to themselves, the hero moaned their name.

It sounded raw and forced and at first, the villain doubted that they had heard anything at all.

"What?" they asked gently, turning around.

And then, again, the hero mumbled their name, their actual name which had been given to them by their mother. They had never mentioned it, had never revealed it to the hero.

"Hey, relax," the villain said. They knelt beside their bed. "Don't..."

"My first death..." The hero turned around, made a grimace out of pain and finally faced the villain. They shared a gaze and the villain didn't quite know where to place themselves within the deep abyss of the hero's irises. "Car crash."

"You don't have to tell me this, please just rest," the villain said. Sometimes, the guilt would come back up. But the villain tried to make up for that with their actions, tried to help the hero as best as they could.

But really, how could you ever apologise for killing someone?

"A car crash," the hero said again. "I was alone. I died alone."

They took in a deep and painful breath.

"Being a hero...I..." The villain didn't know what they wanted to say. "It's hard..."

"I know, I know. Maybe you should take a break for a while. You need your rest and this isn't helping you. You need a vacation. You need time for yourself, even after you've healed."

"No, I...I was so alone. After a while I wanted..."

"Hey, relax, it's okay, you-"

"I wanted to kill myself," the hero confessed. And for the split of a second, the villain's world crumbled and fell into insane chaos. They forgot how to breathe, forgot how to think properly. They were there physically but not with their head and somehow they got extremely mad at the hero.

"What are you talking about?" They tried to clear their head but that was impossible.

"I...I couldn't die, so I...tried everything. I'm sorry, I didn't want to, I couldn't live like this, I couldn't be so ugly-"

"Oh god," the villain whispered and they were sure they were going to break down any second. "You dumb hero, are you out of your mind?!"

"I have you now," the hero whispered. "I want to get better, I swear."

"You're not leaving this house for a long time," the villain said. Their hands were shaking.

"Please," the hero said. "Don't be upset."

But how could the villain not be upset when they were the one falling for the hero?

[thedoubteriswise]

I respect your opinions a lot and I don't mean to argue feel free to ignore this but threatening to withhold your vote to influence government policy is THE basis of democracy. take that away and what leverage do the people have? your vote is between you and yourself. most people making noises about not voting Biden will probably end up voting for him anyway but it's important to at least be able to express dissent and say. here's my line I will not cross. there's an implication in that post that anyone who's threatening to withdraw their vote is privileged and won't suffer any negative consequences from a trump administration that is simply untrue, as many Arab Americans are people of color. loudly shushing and calling out voices on the left who express their disgust with current gvt policy by pointing out that the alternative is worse ultimately in the long run gives a pass to the left to also get worse as long as they don't get on trumps level

Idk. I probably will vote for him. but guilt tripping people who are uncomfortable with genocide ain't it

much like everyone who's not an absolute ghoul, I'm also pretty damn uncomfortable with genocide, so I'm not "guilt tripping" anyone for feeling the same way. I get that I'm being flippant in the tags this ask is about, but that's a very weird and uncharitable interpretation of what I said.

my actual point is that if donald trump becomes president again, it will not improve what's happening in palestine, and in fact will almost certainly worsen it to a significant degree. I say this with full awareness of the despicable misery palestinians are already being subjected to. there's no benefit whatsoever to letting this guy win. even just the idea that allowing republicans to win elections will somehow force democrats to the left in the future is based on like... nothing? it's not what happens; I don't know why people keep imagining that's a thing that regularly occurs in real life.

beyond that, I take issue with the point that this doesn't matter because most of the people saying this stuff will end up voting for biden anyway. I remember how this kind of conversation affected the outcome of the 2016 election. maybe a lot of them will vote for biden, but the thought process expressed in that tweet being constantly put forward in public discourse has a considerable effect on the behavior of the electorate as a whole, and we have very recent evidence of that. it's impossible for me to pretend that this type of shit is harmless. I'm not "shushing" people for saying that US foreign policy on this is disgusting (it is disgusting, it always has been, and saying so is right, which is why I'm doing it too). I'm telling them to stop encouraging people not to vote, because doing so has observable negative impacts.

and to be clear, it's truly not that I don't understand why people feel the way they do about voting for a candidate who's doing bad things - I do get it, I don't think the feelings themselves are wrong or unjustified, and I sympathize. but republicans won't care that they only won because the left was too demoralized to show up, or because the left thought they were taking a principled stance by withholding their votes. they'll fuck things up either way. the negative feelings you have about being stuck voting for shitty democrats are valid, but those feelings, whether motivated by simple empathy or by deeply painful personal experience, don't alter what republicans actually do when they hold public office.

you are an autonomous human being, I'm just some admittedly fallible guy with a tumblr account, and I can't force you to do what I think you should do. but I couldn't possibly disagree more that "threatening to withhold your vote to influence government policy is THE basis of democracy." I think actually weighing in on the available options whenever you have an opportunity is the basis of democracy, and withholding your vote isn't doing that. I think disapproving silence and apathetic silence look exactly the same to an outside observer. I think whoever told you that walking away from the table and letting your opponents make all the decisions is some kind of power move was either malicious or not very bright.

and, respectfully, I am completely certain that you are wrong when you say your vote is between you and yourself. the worldwide material consequences of letting republicans be in charge are worse than the material consequences of letting democrats be in charge, and we have oodles of evidence of this reality available to us. knowingly making a decision that increases the chance of the more dangerous candidate gaining power when it's pretty easy to do the opposite is not a rational or morally defensible choice, even if the less dangerous candidate is still a bastard. even if the intentions that lead someone to that choice are understandable and decent. people are entitled to form their own opinions and act accordingly, but they're not entitled to me praising or ignoring actions that are materially damaging.

which is a very long way of saying that after months of putting up with seeing this nonsense, mostly in polite silence, I think I'm allowed a single, tiny, factually justified wobbly in the tags of a tumblr post containing a screenshot of a dogshit stupid tweet.

[iamjucie]

A History in Lessons

Chapter 7: "Your Most Prized Spawn" pt. 5

HEY! THIS IS GOING TO BE MESSED UP! ****I know I have the Dead Dove tag on all of these stories, but I really mean it this time. In this, there is descriptions of sexual and physical assault that can definitely be triggering.

If you are uncomfortable reading that but want to continue to read the story, you can with no issues. Just move onto the next chapter, I will be posting it directly after posting this one as its already written. I will put whatever context is needed in the beginning notes there.

special thanks to Helmi (@itsthatpearl on tumblr) and Mert (@mertesque on twitter) for beta reading. And an extra special thanks to Mert for helping me brainstorm, I couldn't have done it without him.

Also, lore note: I'm not sure if it is lore accurate that a Vampire Spawn can be drank from by a Vampire lord, but we are pretending they can. Ok? Cool.

The glow in his eyes dims ever so slightly.

Suddenly, you are back in your body. You aren’t even sure where you were a moment ago. You were here, but elsewhere. Your mind was… different. You wanted to be here, you know that much. But where is here? Who is this man? You’re so disoriented, you take a minute to recollect yourself. A moan is drawn from your lips.

You and the vampire lord find somewhere to be alone.

CW: Depictions of assault, Dead Dove, Mind Control Word count: 1.2k AO3 Link

“Let’s get out of here and find somewhere we can be alone.”

Warmness shoots from your ear to your core. Yes- you need this. You need him. Suddenly you have an appearingly insatiable desire for him. To be with him- no, to be his. All you can manage is a faint nod, words don’t seem to be able to form in your mouth no matter how hard you try. You must be so flustered that you’re speechless.

As soon as you give a semblance of agreement, he grabs your wrist and sweeps you away through the crowd. You’re struggling to keep up with his pace. He’s practically running, twisting your wrist uncomfortably as he pulls. It doesn’t seem to hurt, surprisingly.

He takes you into an empty hallway adjacent to the ballroom. Feral for you, he barges into the first door he sees without a knock or a care about what’s on the other side. You enter the room behind him with a yank from his grip on your arm. It's a bedroom. Your eyes gravitate to a vanity similar to the one Astarion said he loved so much.

Astarion… 

The vampire lord scoops you up bridal style, drawing a giggle from your lips. You kick off your elegant slippers before he tosses you onto the bed. Glowing eyes stare through you as he climbs on top of you, grinding his length into your leg through your dress. Your mind is filled with an unbearable lust that cannot be contained. 

You paw at the bulge in his pants, displaying your desperation for him to be inside you. You want it so badly. No- you’re beyond want, you need him. Your pussy is pulsing and your head is spinning with unbearable lust. He bunches up your dress to expose your folds to the elements. You’re completely bare, wearing no underwear. He inhales deeply through his nostrils. 

A scowl spans across his face. “Someone has already been here, hm? Pity.” a sigh leaves his lips, disappointment in his tone. “I wanted to fuck you myself, but I suppose I can make this work.” he says, staring longingly at your aching pussy. He looks into your eyes and says, “Fuck yourself. And make it good.”

With no thought behind it, your hand moves from his bulge to your cunt. You tease your entrance before sticking two fingers into yourself, massaging your inner walls slowly and sensually. You take your other hand and massage your clit simultaneously. Your head rolls back with a smile spread across your face. It feels so fucking good. Never have you felt such a pleasurable experience masturbating before this. It feels like golden waves of pure ecstasy are washing over you after every slight movement of your fingers. 

“Very nice, love.” He says, hovering above you watching your every movement, watching for the cues indicating you’re close. Your breaths and movements begin to lose any semblance of rhythm. “Now, I’m going to do something. I want you to brace yourself, okay?”

You nod. His words sound like music to you, the most beautiful song you’ve ever heard. You look into his eyes, he is so beautiful. 

The glow in his eyes dims ever so slightly. 

Suddenly, you are back in your body. You aren’t even sure where you were a moment ago. You were here, but elsewhere. Your mind was… different. You wanted to be here, you know that much. But where is here? Who is this man? You’re so disoriented, you take a minute to recollect yourself. A moan is drawn from your lips.

You look at the strange man on top of you and then down to your hands. You’re fucking yourself with a passion that you don’t have, with no input from your brain. Your hands are moving completely on their own. You look back up at the man, horror in your eyes. You scream at the top of your lungs.

“Who the fuck are you?!” You begin to thrash, he quickly puts a hand on your shoulder, pushing his entire weight onto it. You continue your attempt to escape. Thrashing, riving, doing anything to try to get him off of you. His grip doesn’t loosen. He only presses into you harder to punish your lack of submission, eventually dislocating your shoulder. You let out a blood curdling scream from the pain. 

“Why am I here?! What are you doing with my hands?!” Your fingers enter and exit your pussy over and over with vigor while you attempt to wriggle away from the cage he’s made with his body.

A predatory grin grows wide as he bares his fangs at you, “Thatta girl.” he hisses. He grabs your aching shoulder with one hand and your throat with the other, his bruising grip digging into your air pipe. 

You manage to let out a measly “Please don’t…” before he dives into you. He bites your neck with the strength of a beast. A gasp is drawn from your lips that shortly envelops itself into a struggling scream. He drinks from you with an animalistic force and speed, unlike any of the feeding sessions you’ve shared with Astarion.

Your body reacts to you fucking yourself, finally going over the edge. An unfortunate, yet beautiful feeling of euphoria washes over you while this monster is still latched to your throat. Your hands finally are unoccupied, but so much of your blood has already been drained that any attempt to hit or push him falls limp. Your arms drop to your sides, they are so heavy.

Slowly your struggle stops and your body is rendered null as the coldness of blood loss washes over you. Your screams turned into words, words became whimpers, and eventually the whimpers stopped. Your head rolls to the side. Your vision is beginning to be spotty as your eyelashes flutter, fighting to stay open.

He unlatches from your neck with a satisfied sigh. He gets off the bed and straightens his suit. He leans into your view, you’re lying motionless with your eyes still open slightly. “Sorry about dropping the whole compulsion thing. Fear just tastes so… delectable. I’m sure you understand.”

He turns to the vanity in the room. In the mirror is a slight reflection; a mostly transparent image of the monster appears. He takes a double glance at the looking glass before running up to it, placing a hand on the reflection. He stares in awe at the slight preview of himself. 

“Six hundred years…” he stares at himself in the eyes. “Six hundred years since I’ve seen that face. Not in a painting or a drawing. In the flesh.” He continues to stare at himself, barely blinking for several minutes as the reflection slowly fades; most likely due to your ascended blood being digested and recycled inside himself. 

He turns away from the mirror. “You…” he starts as he approaches where you lie. He kneels down next to the bed, inserting himself into your view. He places a hand on your cold cheek and leans his head into the crook of your neck, languidly licking the wound he created. Drinking up the last droplets of your blood. His hand is slightly warmed from the heat he stole from you. “Th-thank you.” He continues staring at you for a moment before standing up and walking out of the room.

You’re still unable to move. Mind clouded and vision blotched with black spots, darkness slowly fills your eyesight. You stare at the mirror that was just so profound for the monster. You close your eyes, succumbing to the heaviness of your eyelids. You feel nothing.

Next part

[idontunderstandchemistry]

Uncomfortable - Tim Drake (2/3)

Summary: [...] "Are you saying you are afraid of me?" "I wouldn't say afraid" Dick said, trying to sound casual "It's just the way you've been talking about everything these days. It makes everyone feel..." "Uncomfortable?" Tim asked, with a bitter grin, finally turning towards Dick "The probable consequences of what you all say and do to me make you uncomfortable, Dick?" [...] Extremely hurt Tim Drake living out of coffee and spite.

Wordcount: 930

Content Warnings: Angst; Deeply depressed Tim having deeply depressed people thoughts.

Notes: Sorry for the delay in posting, i feel like I'm almost selling my soul to finally get into college... Anyways, hope you're enjoying for now. Reblogs and likes are very much appreciated ❣️

Be careful and stay hydrated!

P.S.: Don't judge Timmy for being an asshole, specially about his "I'll simply close my eyes and ignore Cass" because, guess what, deeply tdepressed people ignore their loved ones quite oftenly.

Part 1 - Part 3

CHAPTER TWO - THE SOFA

Tim hated when Steph wasn’t around. 

She and Cass were the only ones he wouldn’t ever deny to be in the presence. Steph knew her limits and always made sure to be whatever Tim needed her to be, and for that, he was very grateful. Cass too. Maybe it was part of her naturally silent nature. Tim could simply enjoy being silent alongside her, and, even if she tried to communicate with him through sign language, he could simply be an asshole and close his eyes, turn away or pretend he didn’t see. 

He found himself being quite an asshole to them recently, and for that, he felt bad. Unfortunately, he couldn’t do anything about it. Tim simply hadn’t had the energy to try. 

So he decided to spend more time alone. Good thing the Manor had more than enough rooms for him to hide. Obviously, he had to avoid the closets and the kitchen. Alfred somehow had a spider sense about them and appeared immediately after he felt in his bones that someone dared to get inside his beloved kitchen. So now he was seated in the sofá of one of the living rooms with his laptop, working on a case.

Everything was fine, until Bruce stealthy got inside the room and sat beside Tim, who pretended not to care. 

Some years ago, he would be thrilled by his appearance - Bruce's emotional intelligence range was equal to a teaspoon, so when Tim was still little, every opportunity he had to try to win a piece of Bruce’s attention was unique. Tim could remember every frustrated bonding attempt he made towards Bruce. 

He remembered how much he tried to break Bruce’s walls down and how everytime he got some success, Bruce was quick in building up some more. It took him some years to realise that no matter how much he tried, he would never be like Dick or Jason to Bruce. He wasn’t chosen by him, he didn’t try to be his father figure, Tim already had a father. His relationship with Bruce was purely professional. 

Batman needs a Robin, and Tim was willingly going to do the job. 

Just so all that he ever worked for was taken away from him by Mr. “I don't want to be THE Batman anymore” and given to an entitled brat who tried to kill him.

Tim could hear his teeth grinding against each other in anger. He hated this fucking family.

— Are you going to tell me what's going on, Tim? — Bruce asked, hearing his son’s jaw clench and his eyes stare at the screen in a cold peace.

— No, I am not — The young man said, slowly, feeling his guts filling with rage.

It was simply too convenient for Bruce to choose when he was able to care about the children he brought into his life and decided to call his children. Simply too convenient to choose when he was going to be an available father figure and when he was going to be distant, when he was going to suffocate you with his uneasy stare because of his inability of simply taking conclusions about what was in front of him. Best detective in the world my ass. 

Bruce let out a deep sigh. He was tired.

— Tim, when you have a problem, you need to talk about it. We are your family, we want to help. — He said after some time.

— Well, it seems like my family gets “uncomfortable” when I talk about the problems, so I decided I simply won't talk about them at all — Tim answered, not caring about how bitter he sounded. He didn’t care that Bruce was tired. He didn’t care about any of that shit anymore — If I need help, I'll hire a therapist. I'm pretty sure I can afford It.

Bruce sighed again.

— I love you, Tim. Don't forget that.

Tim laughed bitterly, what scared Bruce. Once again, Tim found himself being an asshole. He had this particular laugh that freaked the whole family: a laugh mastered during the time when he was Joker Jr. He could see Bruce flinch in discomfort and his pupils filled with fear. They were afraid he was going to snap at any time. Good. They had reason enough to be afraid.

— You don't love me, Bruce — He simply said,closing the laptop angrily and getting up — Jason was dead, Dick was pissed and nobody else was stupid enough to try to get through your emotional walls. You had nobody else. You chose to keep me because you had nobody else. Batman needs a Robin and I were there to do the work, I got it. You don’t have to be a genius to know that.

— Tim, that's absolutely not true...

— I'm going to my chambers — Tim simply said.

— I am not done, Timothy!

— If you try to stop me, this will be the last time you'll ever see me around apart from patrol.I’m already emancipated, I’ll move out and Timothy Drake will never willingly cross paths with Bruce Wayne or any of his children again — The words came out of Tim's mouth like water from a tap. Absolutely fluid and cold. He had nothing else to lose, anyway, and he had already lived  away from the Manor for many months before. He surely could do this again. Bruce couldn't say a thing. He was too shocked by his son's attitude — Do both of us a favour and stop pretending to care. We both know you don't.

Bruce was too shocked to even let out a sigh.

[ryuttaeng]

With anyone

Y/n loves the girl deeply and there was a rumor that she was cheating,which was true

But then yn is like "okay...don't do that again..." But then she does that again and she(yn) goes to her friends the members

And they're all like "FCKING LEAVE HER OH MY GOD" "but I'm still in love with her T^T"

You can put any type of ending you want ❤️

pairing: ryujin x female!reader

summary: your relationship with ryujin wasn’t a secret from public, so you dated openly for already two years. once, scrolling through your phone, you saw the article about ryujin… cheating on you.

contents/warnings: angst, devotion, cheating, breaking up, other itzy girls supports reader’s choice, ryujin basically feels bad for cheating, please do not read if sensitive/uncomfortable with such themes!

genres: angst

‘Shin Ryujin of ITZY spotted on a date? K-Pop idol was spotted in her car with other woman’

“is this true, ryu?” you asked, deeply hurt. you was so in love with her, and she knew it, she saw it, and yet, she still went out with someone else, when her girlfriend was you, she even told the world about you, everyone knew you was her girlfriend.

ryujin’s head was looking at her hands, when she nodded, barely noticeable. your heartbeat was so fast, that you thought it gonna stop. your girlfriend immediately took your hand, looking back at you. “please y/n, i…” she started, but you cut her off. "okay...don't do that again..." you whispered, barely able to hold back your tears.

she hugged you, nodding and promising she wouldn’t do that again. but, as you find out literally on the next day, she lied.

she lied she loved you so much, even more than you do, as you saw new photos of her and that girl in her car, now making out. and you couldn’t control yourself. you love her so much, why would she even do this to you?

all four of the girls were comforting you, while you sobbed. yeji rubbed your back, feeling so bad for you. they all knew you since your first days of dating ryujin, even before she opened up about her relationship with you. “why won’t you leave her, y/n? she’s obviously not going to leave that girl.” yeji said, and you cried even more. you knew that, and you hated to know that. “i… i still love her, yeji. even if my mind tells me to leave her, my heart doesn’t want to.” you covered your face, wiping away your tears.

yeji was about to bring you a glass of water, when she heard dorm’s door open. ryujin seemed concerned, huffing, probably running. her eyes immediately spotted you, as she wanted to reach you. “y/n, babe-“ she went to you, but yeji blocked her way. “don’t ‘babe’ her, ryujin. don’t you see you hurt her?” yeji hissed, looking furiously on her. ryujin’s eyes widened, not knowing what to reply, her mouth was closing and opening again.

all of the girls looked at her with disgust on their faces, while you silently cried, covering your face. yuna was holding you, rubbing your neck, but her gaze was on ryujin, and she could see judgement in her eyes. “you know ryujin, you better sleep today in other place.” lia said, very venomously even for her. ryujin took a step back, shocked with her words. “what? where i-“ she started, but yuna cut her off. “are you dumb or something? go to your lover instead, you…” chaeryeong stopped her, signalling her.

since when they were so harsh? ryujin hated seeing you cry, and she hated the fact that her actions made you cry. “i’ve broke up with her, y/n! please, can we talk it out?” ryujin tried, but her world shuttered when she saw you shaking your head. “no… no, i don’t care if you broke up with her or not, i don’t want you around me anymore, shin. yes, i still do have feelings for you, i still love you, but can’t you just stop hurting me? can’t you see i’m suffering because of your actions?” you sighed, before shaking your head again.

“i’m breaking up with you, shin ryujin.” you breathed out. no matter how hard it was to say it, but you had to do it, as you didn’t want yourself suffocate in these relationships.

yeji could perfectly see tears forming in ryujin’s eyes, but even she was her friend, she didn’t felt sorry for her. “you better leave, ryujin. we’re gonna talk with you tomorrow, but i better not see you around y/n since now. our management will also have a talk with you.” yeji said, before she made ryujin leave.

it was for everyone’s sake, even if it was hard to let her go, but you will adjust to it.

[hehetumby]

F//untime Fr//eddy headcanons!! because I'm gay as shit for him now!!!

-----

Warnings: This headcanon list follows a theme relating to stomach related things, (COMPLETELY SFW!), there's also mentions of struggling to cope with anxiety and mentions of murder and death

-----

Funtime Freddy doesn't exactly have the type of stomach humans do. His "stomach" is actually composed of a power module, a charging module, and a speaker.

Hunger isn't painful for him, it can be a similar sensation to how it is in us humans, but it never grows painful or unbearably uncomfortable. When his power runs low, he experiences more of a strange, dull emptiness in his belly that just gives him a strong sense of needing to recharge.

As well as what's mentioned before, when running low on power, a speaker placed in his storage tank will grumble and mimic the sounds of an actual stomach. Said growls will continue until he either charges via his stage or enters sleep mode to recharge.

If he charges past his power being full, his tummy will gurgle in a relatively happy tone. 

He's programmed with a very life-like AI that has given him what is basically a "pseudo stomach." So when he needs charging isn't the only time you may hear it as sometimes it'll idly grumble for no specific reason.

He's absolutely the type to talk to his tummy when it's active. He also puts his hand on it when it rumbles out of pure instinct.

He's very cocky and his love language is teasing so if you're someone he deeply trusts/take the role of a partner to him, and you like this type of stuff, you are not safe, he will tease you about it. Lightheartedly and lovingly of course.

He has a habit of standing close to you when he can sense his stomach is going to sound off just to see your face light up red when it growls.

On occasion, if you're standing near him, he'll grab your head gently but firmly and press your ear against his belly, usually when he notices you're already flustered by its grumbles.

Despite how much he likes to tease you, he's hesitant to let you touch or rub his tummy, even though he loves giving and receiving physical affection. He's rather paranoid knowing what his belly was actually designed for. After all, his stomach quite literally was made to kill on behalf of A//fton. His AI was able to override the murderous programming he was given but it still makes him nervous.

Though it no longer poses a real danger to you, he would NEVER let you crawl inside of his belly hatch, no matter how much his anxiety about his original purpose dissipates. Even when you're doing regular maintenance or repairs, he'll get tense and nervous if you have to stick your hand in his body cavity to fix something, he's terrified of hurting you or anyone else he cares about.

Even with that, once he overcomes his anxiety about it, he absolutely accepts belly pets, but only if he's able to play with your hair or something in return while doing so. He doesn't like receiving physical affection if he can't give any back.

Not tumby related but I imagine him being somewhere on the aromantic spectrum and completely asexual as well.

-----

DO NOT ADD FANDOM OR NSFW TAGS TO REBLOGS.

[burunetto-mx]

ϟ NAOYA ZEN'IN + NSFW + JUJUTSU KAISEN

➝Character: Naoya Zen'in ➝ Waring: adult content, NSFW, sexual relations, +18 ➝ Idioma: español e inglés . ➝ Words: 3.1k ✦ IMPORTANTE: I ​​don't speak English, only half; I use a translator, if some words are misspelled, I'm sorry.

Hurried footsteps were heard running through the corridors, while the laughter of children was present throughout the place. Reflecting joy everywhere.

A boy with blond hair and white skin, ran after a little girl who was wearing a little red kimono, keeping the happiness reflected on their faces.

─ I got you! ─ the boy yelled as he slapped the little girl on the back ─ I win Y/N ─ he said while smiling victoriously.

The little girl pouted, she had lost again ─ It's not fair, I'm not as fast as you ─ claimed the youngest ─ Don't feel bad Y/N, you're a woman and women don't have the physical abilities of men, it was expected of someone like You

Was what Naoya said, those words always made the girl think, every time she lost something against him, he told her that because she was a woman she would always lose, was it so bad to be one? The truth is that he didn't listen to him, even though he was so bad and criticized too much, he loved it a lot. The innocence of the little ones is so wonderful, what a pity it is the adults who corrupt the thinking of the children, free of prejudices.

So to make him laugh, he decided not to continue with the topic, and better that they play something else ─ Naoya, let's play something else ─ he asked. The blond shook his head, he refused to do it, he wanted to continue with that game.

─ No, let's continue with this game

─ It's not fair, we always play it, it's already boring

─ Silence Y/N, we should get married, you are destined to serve me, did you hear? ─ He approached the girl, to stand in front of her, while he frowned, waiting for an answer from her.

The little girl, just looking at him in silence, lowered her gaze and answered ─ It's okay Zen'in… Let's play catch again ─ she said looking up, and giving him a smile. She felt suffocated.

─ You remind me of my cousins… Maki always goes against it, but not Mai, if she knows her place, just like you know yours ─ and it didn't matter to her, she would always remind her, I would always remind her that she would be inferior , and submissive before him ─ You think a lot Naoya, we better play

The slant-eyed one nodded while smiling, and both children began to play again, not worrying about what would come in the future, just enjoying the moment.

(…)

─ What do you say your name is? ─ the young son of the late clan leader asked again.

─ Fushiguro Megumi… ─ the black-haired man spoke, while looking at everything around him with a disinterested face, for him it was really annoying and uncomfortable, being in that place, if it weren't for Gojo who insisted that he come to that place, that he wouldn't she liked him at all.

Naoya felt threatened seeing that someone like him was in the clan, and could take his position as the new leader, that was something that clearly the fox-eyed one would not accept for any reason. He would maintain his composure even if he felt threatened.

But in the face of all the tension that was in the room, a young woman was standing near the door, along with another lady who was already showing her years, both of them were listening and looking askance at everything that was happening. Forced to keep their heads down in the presence of those men.

But Y/N was very curious about the boy in front of her, he didn't seem to have an air of superiority, also when he arrived at that place he treated her with respect, as an equal and he was deeply grateful for that, it wasn't like Naoya, she was so different from him. A few minutes of conversation with Fushiguro was more than all the time he had spent with the blonde.

In that house, not all the men treated the women there well, that could be noticed immediately if you entered that house, it was impossible not to notice because of the treatment they gave to the women.

The blond boy immediately noticed the interest that arose from Y/N towards Megumi, apparently the clan was not enough for him, who also came to steal the attention of his future wife, that filled him with rage and for obvious reasons he would not let that obtained neither of the two things, since both belonged to him. In the end maintaining totally selfish desires.

He had to do something to get it out of the way, and to avoid further inconvenience, he had enough with what had happened.

(…)

Naoya and Y/N were sitting in the garden, admiring the beautiful flowers, while the sun was shining brightly.

─ Megumi's idiot, he seems very pathetic, don't you think? ─ he said while looking at her out of the corner of his eye, waiting for an answer from that woman.

─ If you allow me to say it, he is very… Interesting ─ when saying that, she smiled, while she remembered the face of that boy, delicately taking a flower and looking at it affectionately.

The patience of that Zen'in overflowed, but he had to keep his composure and not make a scandal ─ Really? I notice that you have…some interest in him

─ He's nice, very courteous, a true gentleman without a doubt… he's different from you Naoya ─ The boy bit his lower lip when he heard such a comment. That he wasn't polite? That he wasn't a gentleman?

─ You act very indifferent towards me, you are no longer the same ─ she claimed ─ My apologies, but… Since when are you interested in or even affected by the opinion and actions of a woman?

But what a wonderful move on Y/N's part, she had finally been able to beat her future husband at something, she hit her pride straight, on the other hand, the older man remained silent. He clenched his fist tightly, avoiding the urge to slap the young woman, how dared he say such a comment?

It was true that Y/N was already losing interest in him, she was no longer the same person who smiled at him every day, who was always there to listen to him, to give him some advice, even though he never took it into account, and now it was cold and distant, all the attention was towards Fushiguro Megumi.

"I have to make her fall in love again, I have to make her notice me one more time" was the only thing El Zen'in thought about, how he would woo the girl.

It wasn't that kind of people who were romantic and did so many stupid things for him love, he was direct and said what he thought, but now he simply couldn't think of another way to make the girl fall in love, other than become an idiot talking about love, the idea always repulsed him.

(…)

After investigating how he could win Y/N's heart again, he came to the conclusion that he would not turn to such things as saying I love you in public, everything would be private.

Like giving her compliments, and sending her some Gifts. For example, he had written letters to her, and boy was it hard for him since it wasn't many words when dealing with the subject of love, it was really more difficult than he imagined. But he always asked himself a question: was he really in love with her? Or did he just like the way it made him feel? Someone loved…

But still he achieved his mission, with all those thoughts he wrote the letters and sent them to her hoping that she would like them and that they would make her think of him at least once more.

Y/N immediately noticed all the desperate attempts of the boy to make her fall in love again, what he didn't know was that all of this was a plan by Y/N to not make him so arrogant, lower him a bit from his cloud and that he will appreciate her, what to beg for his love He was proud and arrogant, she got tired of running after him.

She was already tired of enduring his mistreatment and humiliation towards her person, she was not going to allow it, even if she loved Naoya's Idiot it would make her suffer for a long time.

She didn't want a husband with that attitude, did she love him? Of course he did, but his attitude was sometimes annoying, and seeing him making all those attempts for her made him tender, apparently he did feel something for her and that made it more than clear before his actions.

(...)

Naoya passed very calmly through the corridors of her home, it was already night and she had to rest, but something caught her attention. Two members of the clan were talking about women and sex, the truth was that this was not something important to him since they could talk about whatever they wanted, but even so the comments they made completely caught his attention.

─ I feel sorry for Miss Y/N, with a husband like the one she got, I bet he'll be someone very abrupt with her ─ commented one of them ─ Do you really think so? Maybe yes, most likely I hurt her at the time of having sex, how we already know is someone without total consideration.

Those words echoed in his head, who were they to say such a thing in the first place, they were nobody. Second, if he could be considered, he simply didn't do it because it gave him pleasure to see the suffering of others or simply, he was educated to be so cruel.

With a marked vein on his forehead, he turned around and went back to his room, thinking about what had happened. It was true that he could be rough with her when they were being intimate, but…but the truth was that he had imagined that moment as something special and not just plain sex.

He had had wet dreams with Y/N ​​as the protagonist, just thinking about it turned him on and made him stop without full warning.

He clicked his tongue annoyed, why did he just have this "problem", he had to solve it immediately. So what he did was go to the bathroom and start masturbating by himself, while imagining his dear Y/N.

On the other hand, that girl was going to Naoya's room, because she wanted to talk to him. She would accept all his attempts, but she also wanted to talk to him about limits. He knocked on the door of the room but did not receive any response, so he decided to open it and go in, it was not the first time he had gone into that room without permission

And she could bet she would be scolded for doing that, but she didn't care. In the end, he always told her something

Not seeing him around, he thought he must be somewhere else, but some small noises caught his full attention, those noises came from the bathroom, "Of course he must be in there!" The girl thought happily.

At the moment of approaching and knocking, he realized that it was not closed properly, which caused the door to open by itself, thus finding the scene of the young Zen'in masturbating.

An awkward silence filled the place, Naoya seeing her there didn't hesitate to shout ─ BUT WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE? LET GO! NOW! ─ The young woman obeyed immediately, closed the door, stood still while she processed what she had seen, it was the first time she had seen something like this.

A strong blush was present on the face of the manor.

Meanwhile with Naoya, he was really embarrassed why he was caught touching himself, and more than that it was Y/N that was really humiliating for him.

He got ready to leave the bathroom, but not before fixing the whole mess and washing his hands, when he came out he saw that the girl was still standing there without moving.

─ What the fuck, are you standing there? He created to see perfectly said that you get out ─ said the boy while a vein showed.

─ Huh? A-ah y-yes, I'm leaving now ─ he began to walk towards the door, his cheeks burned on fire, he was so ashamed that he just wanted to disappear.

(…)

After what had happened two weeks ago, that event, just seeing each other was uncomfortable. The girl was the one who avoided seeing him, he was tired of seeing what the girl's attitude was like towards him.

She decided to talk about it calmly, she understood that she could feel nervous, embarrassed, embarrassed by everything that had happened. — Talk to Y/N, tell her that I'll wait for her in my room at 9:40 p.m. He gave the order to one of the servants. Which immediately went to tell the aforementioned, knocking on the door of his room.

— I'm coming — he said, as he approached to open — Tell me — Young Naoya made an appointment with her in her room at 9:40 p.m.

It can't be, I knew I couldn't help it, talk to him. She sighed, she was defeated — I appreciate you telling me to give me the message, you can leave

With that said, the woman left, leaving her alone. Wanting to disappear but couldn't do anything else. I hope that the time at which they had summoned her, when she saw that she was approaching, she left that place.

(…)

He knocked on the door, he already knew who it was, so he just said that they could come in. Finding the figure of that young woman who wanted to observe.

— Are you really still not over what happened?

— I saw you touching you, that is not overcome overnight — he defended himself.

"It's been two weeks now," he commented.

— If we're going to talk about it, I'd rather go to my room. Good evening Naoya.

The blond only saw her that she was leaving, but he felt the urge to stop her, also because because of that girl he couldn't finish what he had started that time. So she was the one who had to take charge now ─ Stop, but first I want you to close the door. I don't want a single interruption

He ordered, the young woman who began to tremble at what was happening nodded and obeyed Naoya's orders, she turned around to meet him, who was heading towards her. Until face to face.

─ You know Y/N, you and I will soon be husband and wife, the truth is that at some point we will sleep and start a family ─ but how direct I was to say what I thought ��� and how did you interrupt something relatively " important" you have to take care of yourself now… You know what it means? Isn't it?

— I have contemplated that we would sleep, but that is when we are married, not before the marriage — he confessed. — Besides that we could both cause a scandal for the whole clan

"I'm not interested in knowing what you have to say now," was the only answer he gave her. The young woman knew exactly what she was referring to, what would happen, so she couldn't help but let out a little laugh when she saw how that guy wanted to give her an "order" in response to it. ─ You know, Naoya, if you wanted to sleep with me so much, and you couldn't hold back, you would have told me, don't you think? ─ he was dismayed.

How was it possible that she changed her attitude so quickly if a few moments ago she was trembling…or was it simply because she was also expecting this, the latter made sense.

─ You're right, even though it's a bit annoying that you say such a thing to me ─ he passed his hand over the girl's cheek, in order to get closer to him and unite their lips in a deep kiss.

Which little by little became somewhat hasty, he passed his hands through the woman's clothes, carefully removing the yukata that the girl was wearing, brushing her skin gently, guiding his hands towards her privacy, eager to want to try it. But before being able to continue, he guided her towards the futon that was lying on the floor.

Carefully he laid her down on where he slept, to later lower his hands towards where his target was; Delicately, she was removing her underwear, which she was carefully removing, thus causing the minor to release a sigh at each rose. Causing in her the strangest but at the same time pleasant sensation that it could cause at that moment.

Of course, for her, all this was new, all the sensations she was feeling, she was still a virgin and this made her nervous, since she didn't know how everything was going to be, did she have to let herself go? maybe or at least that was what she thought.

Naoya stopped kissing her lips, turning her attention now, running her kisses along the young woman's neck, leaving wet kisses and small bites in that place. when he was finally satisfied

With his hands, the boy began to take off his Haori and other clothes until he was finally naked, he laid Y/N on the futon in the room, positioned himself on top of them, being careful not to drop all his weight on the hair length.

They looked into each other's eyes, and then continued with their passionate kiss. Savoring their love between him, they separated and because they needed air once more, to which the boy took the opportunity to pass his hand over the intimate area of ​​the Young Woman, began to massage gently, thus causing the opposite to release a couple of of moans ─ Ah~

Naoya, upon hearing that, couldn't help but feel the power over the young woman's body, contemplating it, it wasn't perfect, but she didn't expect it to be either, she would concentrate on making her feel good, or at least that's what she planned; no more. He separated Y/N's legs, thus leaving the girl's intimacy visible and prepared, with one hand he took his member which was already erect.

It would be easy to get in, the young man thought, since his "wife" was wet enough to get in and not hurt her in the process. He positioned him at the doorway, crouched down a bit, so Y/N could hold on to his shoulders.

Going slowly, he introduced it, feeling how he clung to his shoulders, digging his nails into them a little, it was understandable, his first time was painful at the end. Naoya immediately noticed that this young woman was no longer a virgin, he was proud to have been the first, the first in his life, the last, so he would always be the first and the last in her life.

The blond wiped the girl's tears with his thumb, which he had released from the pain, he remained still for a few moments so that her insides would begin to get used to the size of his member.

When Y/N told him that he could continue, he began to give slow penetrations, then increased the pace. Everything was relatively slow, it maintained a prolonged rhythm.

Gasps and moans were present in the room, Naoya with all the shame in the world said some tender words in his "wife's ear", just as he made the same sounds as her, in the end it seemed not to embarrass him too much, on the other hand she She was very happy that he was the first in her life and that he said such tender things to her. She hoped or maintained the illusion that her stupid fiancé would stop being so Narcisa… but in the end it will be a story for another time.

[longsightmyth]

America overhears a conversation between Maxon and Kriss that makes feel slightly ill because it reads as Maxon having manipulated the fuck out of this girl, who we know was raised to expect only fundie style courtship and, presumably, all the baggage that goes with it. It includes Kriss saying she wants to go on a real date, maybe even outside the palace, Maxon saying that isn't possible now or maybe ever since his mother leaves the palace "maybe twice a year" (?!). Kriss says she wants to see him somewhere he's not the prince, and he points out he's the prince everywhere. She says he knows what she means.

“I do. I’m sorry I can’t give that to you, really. I think it would be nice to see you somewhere where you weren’t an Elite. But this is the life I live.”

His voice grew a little sad.

Buddy you immediately get threatening and yelly if someone who could MAYBE have a claim to the throne so much as exists. I don't think you're sad about it at all.

He's all 'I know the public is intrusive now' which it is not. The author has utterly failed at injecting any kind of media interference anywhere. Anyway he says she should consider how much worse it will be when "they only have one girl to focus on"

“Maxon Schreave,” Kriss started, “you make it sound like it’s a sacrifice for me to be here. Each day I’m thankful for being chosen. Sometimes I try to imagine what it would have been like if we’d never met. . . . I’d rather lose you now than have gone a lifetime without this.”

Her voice was getting thick. I didn’t think she was crying, but she was close.

“I need you to know I’d want you without the beautiful clothes and the gorgeous rooms. I’d want you without the crown, Maxon. I just want you.”

Maxon was momentarily speechless, and I could imagine him holding her close or wiping away the tears that might have come by now.

“I can’t tell you what it means to me to hear that. I’ve been dying for someone to tell me that I was what mattered,” he confessed quietly.

Kriss occupies such a weird place in this story, but given the whole Fundie Thing this is deeply uncomfortable and probably her essentially believing they are engaged, and of course Maxon has already told AMERICA he wants to marry HER, so now we've got... idk what shape this is anymore.

Also, I cannot help but read this as Maxon deliberately manipulating Kriss. She says she doesn't want to wait anymore, though I admit I had a long analysis written out until I went back for the quote and realized it was NOT Maxon saying he didn't want to wait anymore. In my defense, there are a few unlabeled lines of dialogue and I was extremely uncomfortable reading this conversation.

I peeked around and saw the back of Maxon’s head as Kriss’s hand slid just barely into the neck of his suit. Her hair fell to the side as they kissed, and, for her first, it seemed like it was going really well. Better than Maxon’s, that was for sure.

Idk. Probably I'm making a mountain out of a molehill. It just seems like Maxon has taken the boiling frog approach with Kriss by pushing her boundaries with non-mouth kissing to get to this point, and now he's implying he wants to marry her so why not?

I don't agree with the reason Kriss has these boundaries bc they are all too often forced on young women especially, and especially in the usa, but the book has established her background and her feelings on that background, and Kriss said she likes the no kissing until engaged thing. If this was real life, Kriss would have every right to set those boundaries. Because this is a book the author has written her (seemingly to me) being manipulated beyond them... by the romantic hero. Who is shown as Right and Good at basically all times.

I don't care for it.

[jess-the-reckless]

sometimes I do work (not often)

I've been working on and off on my upcoming book The Odd Throuple for about twenty years now, and hopefully it will happen in the new year. It started as a fanfic (no, I'm not telling you the fandom) and every now and again I'll be writing away and the characters will remind me so much of who they used to be, back before they evolved into the trio of howling dumbasses they are today. They're fuckwits, and I still love them.

Morons.

He called me back the following day, long past the point where things had slid into the realms of the deeply uncomfortable. I’d spent just under twenty-four hours staring at my phone, Googling ways I could safely lock myself out of it before I used it to abase myself any further, and ended up seriously contemplating beating it to death with a meat hammer. Jack, I knew, had the capacity to treat me like a half-finished novel. I knew how his mind worked. When things got too complicated that was his cue to fuck off up the mountain, and smoke until he was drooling, incapable, and giggling uncontrollably at squirrels. It was part of his process, he said. Nice for him, nasty for me, which is why when the phone eventually rang I was literally standing over it with the steak tenderizer in my hand and murder in my heart.

“Hey,” he said. “I was gonna get a beer at Tracy’s. You wanna…tag along?”

Tag along? I said yes, obviously, but tag along? I had never tagged along in my life, and I wasn’t about to start now. Tagging along implied I’d just showed up and accidentally ended up there, whereas this was deliberate. He’d phoned me. He’d invited me, which was the opposite of being a tagalong, wasn’t it?

The word ‘date’ popped into my head like an intrusive thought. I gave it a cognitive behavioral sideeye, but I showered anyway. And shaved. It was only polite.

Jack hadn’t shaved. He’d opted for the haunted, Hemingway look, and the silver of his stubble made his dark eyes look black by contrast. He looked me up and down in a way I’d never seen before, a way that immediately recalled his hands and his mouth in places where I’d never imagined they’d be for a million years. Until they were. I sat down in a hurry.

He didn’t let up. His gaze flicked over my lips, over the unbuttoned part of my shirt. He had a beer bottle in his hand and for a moment I thought he was going to throw it over his shoulder like he’d threatened to do when he was joking about how I was apparently aroused by the sound of breaking glass.

“So…” he said, and let it hang.

“So.”

Jack took a mouthful of his beer. I tried not to stare at the way his throat (he swallowed) worked. He gestured to the waitress for two more and sat back on the seat. “They got another one of those veggie burgers on special if you’re hungry,” he said.

“I’m good, thank you. I already ate.”

I hadn’t, but it seemed I was still compulsively lying about the dumbest possible things.

“Me, too,” he said, too quickly, and we dropped into a pause so long and so cold that you could have skied down it.

“So,” I said. “Um…how are you?”

“Peachy,” said Jack. “Great. Good. You?”

“Very well, thank you,” I said, trying not to look like a man who had almost taken a steak hammer to his Samsung not two hours earlier.

“Good. Cool.” He nodded. “Listen, I need to tell you something.”

“Oh God. What now? Herpes?”

“No! I do not have herpes!” He spoke too loudly, and several people turned to look. Jack turned red and lowered his voice. “Or anything else, for that matter. Why would you even say that?”

“Look, I’m sorry,” I said. “But I’ve every time I’ve ever had one of these conversations with a hook-up it’s usually involved herpes. Or chylamidia. Oh, or crabs, although you don’t usually have to test for those. They tend to make their presence felt—”

“—sooner rather than later. Yeah, I know. I don’t think you have crabs, either.”

“I know I don’t have crabs, Jack. I think I’d have noticed if I happened to be crawling with crabs, don’t you?”

This time I was the one with volume control problems. Several eavesdropping diners stirred once more, and Jack cringed. At the same moment the waitress brought our beers, compounding the awkwardness.

“Well, okay,” said Jack, when she’d gone again. “That’s good. At least everyone now knows our current STD status.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Whatever. Can I just get this over with, please?”

“Get what over with?” I said. “Oh no. You’re not pregnant, are you?”

“Please,” said Jack. “At my age? No. Here’s what it is, okay? You know…afterwards? When I said my agent was texting me?”

“Yes. It was weird, for the record.”

“I know. Now shut the fuck up and let me talk. Please? Okay. It wasn’t Yolanda on the phone. It was David. He was calling me back. And that wasn’t the first time he’d called me that night. He called me when you were on your way over, to warn me that you were coming, and that you might…I don’t know…murder me or something.”

“Okay,” I said. “And why are you telling me this?”

“Because not telling you about conversations I’ve had with David has not gone great in the past. On account of how you’re insanely jealous.”

“I’m not insanely jealous. I’m reasonably jealous, especially with the way you two carry on.” He narrowed his eyes at me, so I kept talking. “Anyway, thank you. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Not that it makes any sense, of course,” I said. “What the hell were you texting about right after we…you know? Did…”

“…that. Yeah.” Jack ran his tongue over his lips again. Now I knew why he’d been avoiding the subject of that. He was looking at me a lot like he wanted it to happen again. “Same as before – he was mostly checking if I was still alive.”

“Okay. And what did you say?”

His expression – which had been perched on the precipice of horny – snapped back to something more familiar. And tired. “What do you think I said?” he asked. “‘No, I’m dead. I’m six feet under and texting through a medium’? Are you being dumb on purpose?”

“There’s no need to be sarcastic.”

“There is,” said Jack, jabbing at his phone in frustration. “Always. Especially with you. Look.” He held out the phone to me. “Here.”

I took in the conversation at a glance. It was David begging Jack to check in, and Jack telling him I was okay and that whatever it was he and I would work it out. I’m sorry, Jack had written, as a sign off. I need to focus on Alex.

I stared at the words for a little too long, feeling like I’d eavesdropped on a conversation about myself and heard…well, nothing bad, actually. Which was unusual. And nice. Far nicer than it had any business being. “Oh,” I said. “Oh, I see.”

Jack gave a soft, impatient huff. “Do you?”

“Yes.” I didn’t.

“You don’t,” said Jack, reading me like a book. Not just any book, either. He read me like one of those books you keep in a special place, between two larger books that will hold it together, because the spine is mostly sunbleached duct tape and the pages fall out. And some of them are stained with the pistachio ice cream you were eating while you read it alone – for comfort – at the dinner table, even though you didn’t need to read it at all, because you knew it mostly by heart at this point. “You don’t see at all,” he said. “Because you’re a fucking moron.”

I think I made some sort of noise, but it didn’t help.

“Don’t,” said Jack, snatching his phone back. “Don’t do that thing where you blink and pout and look like you have an IQ of forty, because I know for a fact that you don’t. And it’s not your fault, I know. I know and I’m sorry. It’s not your fault that you tested high as a kid and your parents were like ‘Oh shit, we’d better put him in a special school that will will feed into his already massive intellectual arrogance and arrest his intuitive development to the point where he has the emotional intelligence of a fucking Swiffer mop.’”

“Well…thank you?”

“You’re welcome,” he said. Like most people who overindulged in sarcasm, Jack had become noseblind to the scent of it in others.

“I would love to know what I did to deserve this abuse…”

“…it’s not abuse, Alex,” he said. “It’s just the truth. You make everything so fucking complicated, okay? You overreact. You overanalyse. You parse every conversation down to the last punctuation mark in case something got lost in translation and you might have accidentally missed out on a semi-colon’s worth of nuance. You have two doctorates. You speak five fucking languages, and yet you remain one of the dumbest motherfuckers I have ever encountered in over forty years of being surrounded by idiots.” He poked desperately at the phone on the table to make his point. “It’s there, Alex. There are no semi-colons to pick at, nothing lost in translation. It’s simple. That text is just me explaining that I care about you. Is that really such a complex concept for you?”

I stared at the phone for a long moment. Swallowed. “No,” I said, too quietly. So I said it again. “No.”

“Okay,” Jack said, with the air of someone who had just finished doing his taxes. He hated doing his taxes. “Good. Cool. Then can we stop with the relentless post-mortem?”

I nodded and reflexively reached for the menu.

“You want a burger?” he asked. “I could go for a burger.”

“I thought you already ate?”

“No.”

“You said you did,” I said, and he gave me a beady, exasperated look. I knew why. I was doing it again, right after he’d told me in no uncertain (and weirdly touching) terms to knock it the fuck off. Besides, I was in no position to judge. I hadn’t eaten either. And I’d also lied about it. “Sure,” I said, wondering what in the world was wrong with us. “I could eat.”

[mxstball]

Distorted Expectations: Jeanne

After discussions, it was time to finally return to what everyone was doing. Lauren and Chrona said their goodbyes before leaving together to Hoenn. Daiyu finally sank in the Distortion World (though, not before bringing the toy chair that Heidi made with her). Heidi, meanwhile, was just about to leave the lounge to return to the Hall of Origin. After all, Melony and all of the humans were waiting for her. 

However, before Heidi could use her portal gun, she was stopped by Jeanne.

"Hey, uh, before you go…" Jeanne turned Heidi around to her. "I need to talk to you about something."

"Huh? Sure. Let's sit back down."

The two girls returned inside and sat down across from each other. Now that they were alone, Heidi relaxed herself a little more on the chair while Jeanne sprawled herself on the couch. Heidi did summon some teacups and started drinking some tea, but Jeanne didn't partake right away. She was too comfortable.

"So, wanted to get this out of the way: I'm sorry if you felt uncomfortable when I called you 'Mom'. I know that I was being a bit annoying on purpose but…."

"It's fine." Heidi took a sip. "It just… caught me off-guard, 's all."

"Oh. Well, if that's the case--"

"-- Don't press your luck." Heidi glared. "Now, I understand why Zinnia started calling me 'mom'. She's been wanting to say that for a while now… but you have Rachel. I know that she hasn't always been the best mother to you, but I know you still love her."

"I do, which is why she's my mother, but…" Jeanne shrugged. "I see you kind of like my mom, too, or at least I look up to you like one. You really took the title of Acting-Arceus in stride and worked so hard to keep the family together. Plus, you've been really inspiring both when just observing you and when interacting with you!"

"I appreciate that, but--"

"... Actually, why are you so hesitant for others to call you mom, anyway? Other than Lati and Sapphire, I noticed that you really don't like being called mom. Is there a reason?"

Heidi sighed. "...It's just… I never really expected to be a mother, you know? I'm still a little young -- only 2,000 years old. Even then, for so much of my life, I was just a feeble sickly dragon that required being cared for, and much of my life before then was spent fighting in a war. I never saw myself as someone that would settle down or have anyone that would want to look up to me. So, when I came here and started being with your father, it was… weird that others were seeing me as a mother just as they see him as a father."

Jeanne listened to Heidi and nodded. "So, has that feeling not gone away, even after having Lati?"

"Not… really, no. I can't ignore it with Lati, and I was the one that adopted Sapphire, so they feel a little different."

"I understand."

"..." Heidi sighed and put her teacup down. "Listen, I-- I don't mean to say that I don't care about you, Jeanne. I do. I really do. I know that we really have known each other for a couple of years but I've grown to love you a lot -- just like Zinnia and little Lati and Sapphire and Kathy. I guess I just… feel really weird when I'm called mom -- double the fact since you still have one that you love deeply."

"That doesn't mean that I don't get to think of you as my mom, either. I think of Aphra as my mom too, so I really don't mind."

"...." Well, it looks like Heidi budged. "...Let's ask your mother first. I… don't want to accept it without her permission, and I already know Rayquaza wouldn't care."

"Alright. Let's do that after your journey, then." Jeanne finally sat up on the couch. "Anyway, there's… something else that's been on my mind."

"What's the matter? It's not serious, is it?"

"It might be, if my feeling is right." Jeanne took a significant amount of time to articulate her thoughts. "... When we went to Mona's domain, and when we met Mona, I felt something… weird. Not like, scary weird but… I feel like I've been there before and maybe even met something like her before."

"Do you know who or where it could have reminded you of…? Even if vaguely?"

"...Well… there is one person I think--" Jeanne thought a little more.

"Her name was Coyote. She was our world's Giratina before… well… it was destroyed by Friede. She was a special Giratina that actually fought alongside my Mother when Dialga and Palkia rebelled against us long ago. Without Dialga and Palkia, she almost single handedly kept the Sinnoh Region afloat, using her powers of time, space, gravity, and antimatter to keep the region and the rest of the world safe. Not only that, but she was one of the most generous Giratina too, adopting several humans, Pokémon, and other Legendary Pokémon under her wing throughout the years. By the time Friede appeared in our world and cut her down, she was beloved by everyone… and her death was the whole reason why I stepped up to fight Friede in the first place."

"Wow. She was… a wonderful woman."

"She was. I loved her a lot and Andrea misses her to this day… but…." Jeanne shook her head. "... but staying in that Distortion World had me thinking: what if Coyote was still alive? What if she was possibly a part of Mona's system, like Daiyu and Melony? What if she's still out there, somewhere, alone and without her family? If that's the case, then maybe we can bring her back here, to stay with us -- or at least share the world with Aunt Dinah. Do you think it's possible?"

"I…" Heidi paused. "I… don't really know. Maybe? I wouldn't rule it out, and if your instincts are leading you in that direction, then I trust them. If so, then, great. If not… then… I don't know. I just trust that you're right." Heidi nodded. She walked over to Jeanne on the couch and joined her.

"...." Jeanne averted her eyes from Heidi as she thought of the possibility that Coyote was still there -- that there's a chance that the one that Jeanne thought of as another mother figure and as a babysitter could still be out there somewhere. "...Is… it okay if you can come with me to talk to Mona? I… I don't want to be alone should I be wrong."

Heidi turned to Jeanne and gave a polite smile. "Of course, Jeanne. I'll be with you every step of the way.

The two women looked at each other and exchanged a silent hug. Jeanne really needed that.

[swallowsandamazons]

@petrifiedcrange sent this from Izzy

❝ Ely... ❞

Izzy is worried. They look beyond exhausted yet refuse to leave his side for long no matter how much he asks, and even if they do leave at his request, he finds them back in that chair by his bedside the next time he wakes up looking like they've been sitting there for a while and he can only hope that they are not sneaking back in the moment he passes out ( but he has a bad feeling that they do ).

It makes him both incredinly touched and pretty uncomfortable, attention and care of this intensity, not to mention the way they look at him sometimes as if they fear he might drop dead ( even though Roach already said that he is definitely on the mend, the wound healing slowly but nicely ) and that look makes him anxious, makes him want to get up and get back to his duties as soon as possible, after ushering Ely to bed to have some much needed rest, but he can't do that yet ( he tried, but could barely make two steps before tiring, from the combination of his wound, his leg, the effort it takes to put the unicorn leg on, especially in a way that wouldn't aggravate his side, and the fact that he hasn't been up and walking in days ), so the only choice he has left is to shift a little to the side, closer to the wall, on his bed, stifling a grunt as the movement pulls on his wound, and pat the freed up space.

❝ Lie down. If you won't go back to your own bunk, at least have some shut-eye here on a proper bed, not in the fucking chair. ❞

Ely wasn't going to leave. Izzy had been there for them when both Stede and Ed had been absent. The least they could do was repay that. So they stayed by his side. They kept the wound clean, changed bandages, only left the room briefly to get food or water and kept the lamp burning.

It was more than just loyalty that kept them there, though. They were also deeply afraid. The kind of fear that sat heavy in the base of your stomach and made you feel like you wanted to dig in your heels against it, afraid of getting any closer. That was how Ely felt about the potential of Izzy dying.

Perhaps by staying with him and keeping their eyes open they could scare off the grim reaper whenever he came. Initially, it had looked like that fight was going to happen sooner rather than later but through a lot of hard work and sleepless nights, they'd managed to fix that. Izzy looked vaguely healthy now if you sort of squinted at him. That was good.

Still, they couldn't sleep. Aside from the stress surrounding Izzy, they were still riddled with guilt from all they'd done while working under Blackbeard. The murder related guilt had been manageable at the time- often drowned out by anger directed at Stede and sometimes at Ed. Now, there was very little to smother it. Every time they nodded off in the uncomfortable wooden chair, they jolted awake with salt stained cheeks and a burning chest. Sleep just wasn't worth it.

They looked up from their book when Izzy spoke and immediately stood when they saw him shifting over on the bed.

"You really shouldn't be moving like that. You're going to make the wound worse." They spoke frantically, clearly panicked about him hurting himself.

"Oh no, I couldn't possibly." They shook their head, clutching their book tight. "I'm okay, honest. I got a few winks earlier and the chairs deceivingly comfortable."