#murderer who loves being cruel in the same breath

[leatherbookmark]

lrb on an extended note i always wonder what people mean when they tag jgy in those "this character made you believe that the mask they're putting on, the lie they want to make people think is true, is true!! lol you silly goose!!!" posts

[snakeredbirdbatkatana]

"Is there something wrong with me, why do they hate me so much?"

Dick breathes, it's not often now that's it just him and Tim usually Damian is lurking around, or Bruce needs something.

He hesitates, putting into words anything involving Jason or Damian is always convoluted, at best.

Hate is such a interesting word even on his best day there aren't many he would say that about.

Majority are villains. People who have hurt him or his brothers.

Does he think Jason or Damian hate Tim?

No.

He believes it's a mixture of jealously, pride and just overall trauma.

"There's nothing wrong with you Baby bird, your one of the best things that have ever existed in this world. Your my baby brother."

He looks at Tim fond and soft.

He wonders about Jason mostly if he just doesn't see this, or maybe doesn't care. How can you hurt a person so badly and not even blink?

"You didn't deny that they hate me?" It's bitter.

Dick wonders when this became his life carefully trying to sew up gaping bloody wounds that with the carelessness of his brothers will never scar.

He wants to shove it in their faces see what you have done. These are consequences you broke his wings and everyday you keep trampling them. You rant and rave about what has been done to you, yet turn and do the same.

Maybe that is brotherhood cutting so deep you mark bone and not glancing back.

How is it that for all the anger that sits in his chest he could never be Cain.

He remembers after Jason first came, he had looked up the story imagined standing covered in his brothers blood.

He had wanted to vomit.

"They do not hate you, they just are cruel."

It's feels almost like a lie or maybe something nastier to say anything about two boys who aren't men even if Jason likes to pretend to be.

But where is the loyalty Tim has bled for where's Dick's?

"Cruel, is that so different, or worse?"

It's funny the leaps and jumps you can make, to excuse the most despicable of actions.

"You know Cain loved Abel? It's not so black and white."

Or it is and this is how Dick will eventually justify lowering the corpse of his brother into the ground. Will he see a smirk painting Damian's face while he stares at the grave.

Will he look across the dining table to an empty chair sharing a meal with his brother's as they bond over the murder of another. Will his father care or will he be apathetic to another dead son.

Isn't it funny that Dick expects it that it will not surprise him if one day he gets the call.

"Why do I have to be Abel why am I the one who has to Die... Dick. Don't I have the right to live?"

"Who said you had to die, why can't you be Cain?"

Maybe it's selfish or something else but if he had to pick why shouldn't it be Tim.

It's only fair after all.

"Your lying, you would never look at me again if I did what they have."

No.

"I have never denied being willing to die at your hand brother, I have already forgiven you."

[flowerandblood]

The Temple of the God

[ Ares • Ettore x Aphrodite • female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, sex content, fingering, smut, angst, violence, swearing, marital infidelity ]

[ description: Many men look at her with lust, however, no one's gaze is as terrifying as that of her brother, the god of war, cruel and cold, reminding her more of a barbarian than one of the kings of Olympus. He is known to care little about pleasing women in his brutal rapprochements with them, however, he surprises her with his attitude when he visits her one night. ]

This oneshot is my Valentine's Day gift to all of you. I love you, thank you for being here! I plan to come back to this couple in the future, let me know what you think! 💕

Part 2 − The Temple of War

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

She could see it in the way he looked at her. She saw it in the light movement of his head, his raised chin, his slightly parted lips, his gait lazy, confident, careless, like that of a bear or a lion. He circled around her, angry and frustrated, unable to get what he wanted.

There was something animalistic in his nature, in his posture, in his aura, his gaze seemed to her empty, yet at the same time endlessly deep and dark; he could not concentrate on calm deliberation, there was a perpetual, irrepressible storm in his mind.

He would exert himself on the battlefields, at the head of armies of his heroes, with whom he would train and duel for days, their muscular, broad bodies often completely naked, glistening with sweat and oil.

She watched them sometimes from the windows of her chambers on Olympus. Their great wars and pointless exercises aimed at making them tear their opponents to shreds, with one sword cut depriving them of their members, wallowing in their blood.

Her brother did not abhor carcasses, decay, murder, cruelty, she thought he fed on it, his enemies knew no mercy from him, their pleas clashing with the cold stone that was his heart.

Her nature was the complete opposite of his and they both knew that they had nothing to offer each other. However, whenever he caught sight of her silhouette, walking in the company of her servants, river and mountain nymphs, entertaining her with conversation, he did not take his piercing, hot gaze off her, his lips pressed into a thin line; he turned the hilt of his sword as if in a trance then, drifting away with his thoughts.

He did not desire her, he wanted to devour her.

She knew that he had cohabited with many women, including her maidservants, who later lamented to her that he was brutal and cruel, that he did not know or understand what female fulfilment and joy were, did not know the women's bodies and their secrets, because he was only interested in his own fulfilment.

One day she visited him while he was practising with his warriors; they were wrestling and throwing each other to the ground, the one who gave up had to pat the other on the shoulder.

They were completely naked.

Seeing her, several of them covered themselves, knowing full well who she was, ashamed that she might judge them or their bodies, mock them and expose them to the ridicule.

She, however, approached her brother, looking straight into his eyes beaming with utter black emptiness, his broad chest adorned with drops of sweat rising and falling in heavy breathing.

He stood before her without any sign of embarrassment, his eyes roaming all over her body, judging apparently how her flesh presented itself in her soft velvet-like translucent white robe, pearls braided into the curls of her hair. They stared at each other for a moment in silence, as if testing each other, her face, like his, expressing nothing.

"Stay away from my servants, brother. They have complained to me that you are hurting them." She said at last, his jaw clenched at her words, his nostrils quivering in impatience.

He didn't answer.

He never answered.

She turned away, heading back towards the cloisters, feeling the thirsty gazes of the men turning behind her, disappearing at last into the halls of the gigantic ancient palace.

Men craved her for many reasons, one of which was the urge to prove to themselves that they could be desired by the goddess of love herself.

It was a great oversimplification, however, because of her experience this is what she came to be called, people, men and women, began to offer prayers to her begging her blessing in their marriages, asking for her intervention in matters others would have been afraid to whisper about.

She blessed ardent loves, burning to the core.

Yet she herself, though she was ashamed to admit it, had not experienced one herself.

Every time she thought it was the one, the man she believed to be her beloved died, or betrayed her by following another goddess, bored. Her heart was broken so many times that she allowed herself to be approached by men only to give her physical pleasure.

Her husband, Hephaestus, was a good and warm-hearted man. He spent his days in his great forge located in the heart of the volcano, in which the fire flowed constantly. She visited him there rarely, the dust and noise there was unbearable for her.

Although they both had respect for each other and a kind of cordiality, he preferred to devote himself to his work. He did not understand her needs, just as she did not understand his, for which she did not blame him.

Their marriage, unlike that of Zeus and Hera, was more peaceful, both of them resigned to their roles and didn't get in each other's way.

She knew, however, that before her father, ruler of the thunderbolts and all of Olympus, had decided to marry her to Hephaestus, it had been the God of War himself who had furiously demanded her hand, believing that she was his to claim.

Their father did not share his decision, apparently fearing his violent nature and what kind of husband he would turn out to be.

Her brother then disappeared for years, sinking into great wars and battles, the earth trembled from his rage, from the peaks of their heavenly mountain she heard the cries and moans of his enemies.

That day, after what she had told him, he came to her at night.

Completely naked, without a trace of embarrassment on his face, he walked slowly across the cold stone floor towards her bed, draped with a canopy and translucent curtains, which he pushed aside with an impatient flick of his hand, passing between them.

He stopped when he caught sight of her bare figure, looking at him with furrowed brows she raised on one elbow, feeling no shame whatsoever, yet unable to stop the squeeze between her thighs and the heat in her lower abdomen noticing that at the sight of her body his manhood twitched and swelled.

"Get out." She said coolly, but he only hummed as if he was considering something. She turned on her back, ready to scream if necessary, knowing her servants would come to her aid and her brothers would drag him away from her.

She was curious, however, to see what he would do.

She looked vigilantly at his silhouette walking slowly towards her, with his big cold black eyes and tense body he reminded her of a wild animal preparing to attack.

She thought he was about to throw himself at her and try to take her against her will.

He, however, sat down beside her; his large, wide hand raised and, in an uncertain, calm movement, ran down her thigh, his fingers digging into her skin as if he wanted to see what it felt like.

"− like velvet −" He murmured low, breathing through his mouth as if he was trying to calm himself; she seemed to notice on his face something of childish curiosity, as if she and her body was something unremarkable and completely incomprehensible to him.

His hand went higher, to her breast and began to rub and play with it, as if he liked the shape of it and how pleasant it was to the touch. She sighed quietly, realising with disbelief that what he was doing and how he was behaving was making her wet, her fleshy insides pulsing with tension.

Finally his fingers ran over her neck and face, his thumb stopped and parted her plump, glistening lips; he leaned over her as if he wanted to get a proper look at her, his warm breath enveloped her skin, the smell of his sweat seemed primal, masculine to her, her body involuntarily quivered at the thought.

He kissed her, kissed her as if he wanted to devour her, his caress full of chaos and impatience, of his hot, sticky lips, of his wet tongue, of his saliva and teeth. She gasped into his mouth, surprised to feel what he was doing between her thighs, her heart pounding like mad.

He groaned low into her mouth in surprise and tightened his fingers on her cheeks, panting hard as her hand gripped firmly his hard, swollen manhood.

She gasped for air when she felt how generously he had been bestowed by the heavens; she gave him a few slow, encouraging squeezes sliding her hand from the fat, pink head of his cock to it's very base, his hips involuntarily began to respond to her movements.

"− harder −" He commanded, closing his eyes, his hand involuntarily squeezed her breasts, too hard and without sensitivity. She hissed quietly, clamping her hand tighter on his length, wanting to cause him pain; he growled feeling it, digging his fingers into the skin of her cheek, looking at her with rage.

"− not like that − more gently −" She explained, clamping her hand over his, showing him with the strokes of her fingers how he should caress her, directing his thumb to her nipple.

"− rub this place − ah, yes, just like that −" She mumbled, tilting her head back, feeling his impatient breath on her, watching her and her reactions with interest, surprised apparently at how she was able to change in a matter of moments.

She felt his length tremble in her grasp when he heard her first, quiet moans.

"− that's enough −" He said impatiently, laying down on top of her, his large hands, rough from holding the sword, gripped her thighs, wanting to spread them apart and finally possess her, her fingers tightening on his sweaty, muscular shoulders.

"− no − not yet − touch me there −" She mumbled.

He looked at her with a gaze from which her whole body froze, it seemed to her that his irises were completely black, menacing, burning with a desire that destroyed and devoured.

For a moment he didn't move, breathing heavily as if he was considering her words; she licked her lips realising that he had never done this before.

He had never touched a woman down there with his fingers or his lips, never caressed her before he owned her.

She swallowed loudly, sliding her hand down to his, in a gentle motion encouraging him to sink his fingers into her hot, leaking womanhood.

She heard him draw in a loud breath at the sensation, foreign and unfamiliar, tense, he rested the weight of his body on his elbow, leaning to the side, watching from the corner of his eye what he was doing to her.

"− here, brother − touching me here will give me pleasure −" She whispered, guiding his fingertips to the bud hidden between her folds, showing him how to tease her clit with circular, slow movements.

She parted her lips, feeling the pleasant tingling in her lower abdomen, her hips involuntarily began to respond to his strokes.

"− only here? −" He asked lowly, furrowing his eyebrows, his stony face expressing concern at her words knowing that the place she was showing him was outside and not deep inside her. She sighed quietly, guiding his middle finger to her slit; he looked at her face, gasping out loud, feeling the way her fleshy walls resisted him, hot and sticky.

"− not only − can you feel it? − right here −" She whispered, directing him to the spot inside her just above her opening, between her muscles. He shuddered all over, licking his lips, dried apparently from emotion, his erection hard and swollen, twitching involuntarily, betraying how aroused he was.

"− yes −" He exclaimed, digging his middle finger into the spot she showed him, his thumb teasing her pearl, clearly wanting to see what would happen when he started touching both places at once. She moaned loudly, tilting her head back, delighted at how unexpectedly pleasurable the sensation was.

"− gods − put it inside me −" She mewled, feeling that she no longer cared about retaining any remnants of her dignity, her free hand sank into his hair, pulling him close. He grunted loudly into her mouth like an animal throwing himself at her body, her fingers dug into the bare skin of his back, a moan of exertion escaped her throat when immediately the thick tip of his cock began to push against her tight walls.

"− wider −" He exhaled with a grin that was disturbing to say the least as with an impatient, confident thrust he forced her to let him in deeper. She breathed loudly, unable to believe how hard he was stretching her and threw her head back, a drop of sweat running down her long neck.

"− brother −" She whispered, something in the way she said the word made him lose his patience, his length began to slam into her in a fast, brutal rhythm, each time rubbing the spot inside her from where she could see the stars; it seemed to her that everything around her was spinning, the fingers of his hand cupped her cheeks, forcing her to look at him.

"− no, fucking look at me − look at me and listen to what my cock is doing to this weeping cunt − pathetic −" He hissed out through clenched teeth, as if he was both furious and proud at the same time. She whimpered helplessly, a loud smack echoed around them each time his thighs hit the bare skin of her buttocks, there was something lewd and definitive about the sound, proof of how wrong she was.

"− mghm −" She babbled, feeling like he was going to pierce her, the movements of his hips quick and aggressive, full of desperation and desire, their breaths embarrassingly loud and raptured. They stared at each other with their mouths wide open, as if they couldn't believe in what was happening.

"− what does it feel like, brother? − what does it feel like to fuck your own sister? −" She gasped, heard his surprised sigh at her question, his cock quivered hard inside her, his fingers dug harder into the soft skin of her cheeks, causing her pain.

He was moving so fast inside her that he was hardly slipping out of her, her fleshy walls, all leaking from her moisture, were no longer resisting him.

It seemed to her that he wanted to reply something, but the pleasure took his speech away; he leaned over suddenly and pressed his forehead against hers, panting loudly, his hot breath enveloping her face.

She could smell the masculine scent of his sweat, from which her cunt began to throb around him, her fingers traveled down from his back to his buttocks, stroking them with movements that could be called tender.

"− it feels good −" He whispered, looking at her with a gaze that sent shivers through her, at the same time animalistic, empty and full of something she couldn't name, desire as dark and disturbing as the night around them. The sure, loud, deep thrusts of his hips made her breath get stuck in her throat, she thought with horror, feeling a pleasant tickle in her lower abdomen, that she was about to come.

"− it feels right −" He muttered and ran his tongue over her lips, something in the way he said those words, in this shameless, lewd gesture, in the way the tip of his fat cock rubbed her again and again at the spot of her greatest pleasure made her melt in front of him.

She involuntarily tilted her head back and closed her eyes, a soft, helpless moan of delight broke from her throat as a wave of wonderful heat and relief shook her body, her walls began to squeeze him, sucking him inside.

"− fuck − fuck-fuck-fuck −" He merely muttered before sighing loudly.

She felt his hot seed spill inside her, filling her, and although she rarely allowed anyone such an honour, she was unable to deny him.

She stroked his naked buttocks with calm movements full of affection, in some subconscious, natural reflex, he continued to thrust into her for a moment longer, looking down at her with his mouth open wide in pleasure.

They stared at each other, breathing loudly, and she raised her hand, letting her fingers run over his temple, his cheek and his clearly defined long jaw. She saw him close his eyes for a moment, as if he wanted to remember this moment and this feeling.

"− there is no place for me to rest − no haven where I can take refuge − here is my only true temple −" He gasped in half whisper, as if he were revealing to her some shameful secret that was tormenting him. She swallowed quietly, feeling his body cling to hers, her breasts pressed against his bare, broad chest, his face snuggled into her hot cheek, his soft manhood still throbbed deep inside her.

"− my home −"

_____

General Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@triscy @re-per @diiickbrainn @queenofshinigamis @eponaartemisa @zaldritzosrose @writerloversjm @lauzy87 @targaryenrealnessdarling @briefcollectivepersona @ginarely-blog @lcecgg @an0ther-us3r @blackswxnn

[jinkiezzsstuff]

Hello!!!

Can I put in a writing request??

Because I love your writing!!! 🥹

Can you do (either human alastor.. or demon alastor i love both but human alastor has a chokehold on me haha) but his partner is plus size and they are very self conscious about it

Can be smut if you like (I'm waaaay okay with that)

omg yessss i’m gonna do human alastor because he does need some attention <3 also felt this personallyyyy so i did it sooo fast 🙈 ima chunky gorl myself and with summer approaching things always get tough. i lot of what i wrote here is my own personal experience and shit so i don’t want anyone to think this is something they should feel or notice or be ashamed of! Just so you know!

warnings: SMUT 18+, gender neutral but use of clit, feral alastor, Human!alastor, kinda ooc in the way he is ravenous for reader sexually, reader doesn’t know he’s a murderer, self loathing, self hate, body worship maybe, biting breifly, alastor kinda rich or whatever for the time, insecure reader, plus size reader, body part like stomach thighs highlighted, crying, husband alastor, comfort from Al. swearing, lmk if there’s anything else! NOT PROOFREAD YALL

also i wanted to use junoisded ‘s work (on IG) but i don’t think they like things reposted unless asked and i am way to shy but go check them out their human alastor is mouthhhhh watering gawd

Closing the door behind you, you sat your bag on the table a sullen look on your face. It was particularly difficult week for you, it was getting warmer in New Orleans and when it got warm what was really meant was hot humid gross. It almost felt embarrassing at times to leave the house, the clothes companies made weren’t anything like what other people wore they were hideous, and you sweat, and just felt kind of self conscious.

Especially with Alastor. His popularity grew expeditiously over the last couple of years, with people now being able to recognize his voice all around. His popularity was a gift and a curse, a gift because you didn’t have to work through the stock market issues whereas many people your age did, and a curse because more women and men alike wanted him.

You weren’t jealous because Alastor made it pretty clear he only had eyes for you, however you couldn’t stop the comparison, you usually felt decent about yourself and your looks and Alastor made you more assured in your beliefs. But as more people would recognize him, and he’d give them that charming smile, and they’d flirt, you’d get a little jealous and insecure.

You walked into yours and Alastors shared bedroom, slipping off your shoes and looking into the mirror. You wanted to buy some nice clothing for an event you and Alastor were attending within the week, it was very hush puppy as it served contraband, however you couldn’t find anything at the market, and the tailors would be just too much to ask of Alastor.

Your lip quivered not with sadness but frustration, you just wanted to be at the same level as everybody else, without the issues, and being constantly told how to eat or use your body or dress yourself. Sitting on the bed your thighs spread out around you, stomach resting atop. Tears kept flowing pitifully as you took a moment to wrap your head around your spiraling thoughts. Taking a deep breath you wrapped your arms around your back, begining to take off the clothes that stuck to your sweaty body.

‘Loose leisure clothes.’ You chanted as you shook your trousers to your ankles and opened the drawers to your dresser. You remembered as you caught sight of one of Alastors red suit jackets, a gentleman who had commented that Alastor was far too small to lend his jacket to you on a cold night, which make you feel so bad about yourself. Slamming the drawer closed you cradled your head, this wasn’t fair, you would be ten times better with yourself if people weren’t so casually cruel.

You were okay, you were loved, but it seemed in other aspects of life people had to assure you weren’t due to how you looked. “My dear, what’re you doing all dressed down like this?” Alastors voice rang out joyfully. With a jump and a squeak your arms go to cover your body, however Alastor had already turned his back for you. “I’m so sorry sweetheart! I should’ve knocked!” Even though Alastor was being respectful, a nagging voice in the back of your head told you it was because he couldn’t stand the sight of you.

“Uhm, well you can look actually…” You muttered voice just above a whisper as you rubbed your arm. Alastors hands were on his hips, elbows pointed out head facing down, then he perked up head looking behind him. Smile present on his face his eyes shamelessly drank you up. “I couldn’t find any clothes,” You mutter your throat closing as the tears returned with the thoughts of before.

Alastors body finally turned his smile falling as he watched your from recoil away from his gaze. Stepping into the room his dress shoes clinked against the wooden floor as he approached you his arms outstretched to you. Immediately you fell into his embrace holding back the urge to cry, you wanted to be as strong as he was; smiling through no matter.

However when his hand began rubbing your back, soft words of worry falling from his lips, you lost it. Burying your face into his shoulder you cried, muttering your insecurities into him as he cradled you. “And Alastor they must think i’m a joke, you’re so small compared to me.” You cried out, pulling back to look into his chocolate eyes. Quickly he pulled a handkerchief from his vest pocket, his smile now a frown as he watched tears roll down your cheeks.

“My my, that’s the best part doudou. I love having flesh to bite, grip, squeeze,” Alastor grinned speaking through his closed teeth as he gripped your waist pulling your hips to his and you looked down hiding your face at his ridiculous nickname for you. “I feel proud to be able to feed you, my mother would be proud too, she’d absolutely love you. Worry not my dearest doe, i will have anything tailored to your need, and any crude bastard to comment on you I will hand slaughter the night of thee event, just to send a little message.” Alastor puffed his chest into you, his voice strangely dark and possessive, his eyes gleaming with pride as he kneaded your flesh beneath his fingers.

You never thought about it like that Alastor being able to properly provide for you, no; that was the fun of Alastor though he always knew how to twist things into something better than. Not to mention the idea of him being willing to commit a crime for you in the midst of a serial killer going around, that was something very special to you, strangely enough.

“Alastor you’re insane sometimes, but i love you.” You grinned finally, in turn making Alastors smile return larger then ever. Hands crawling up his chest and neck, you pulled him close and into a kiss. Your immediately Alastor gave into your tug, crashing his lips quickly onto your own roughly, his body grinding into your own as he did so, impatient to show you how much you mean to him though his psychical affections.

His hands gripped every little bit of flesh they passed, trailing up and down your body rolls and all, indulging his desire for you. You moaned lightly into his mouth when you felt the hard pressure of him pressed against your thigh. Alastor pulled away biting your lip as he did so, dragging it out. His eyes were lidded and one of his perfectly gelled curls fell forward and down touching the brim of his eyeglasses. “See how quickly you make me indecent my dear? Oh sweet doe, you make me so disgusting.” Alastor whined in a way, which you’d never heard, and stuffed his head into your neck, kissing, biting and sucking at your warm neck

“Alastor i’m sweaty!” You squeal as he dragged his tongue up your neck, biting at the flesh under you chin. “I know,” He mumbled quickly barely breaking away from decorating your neck. “So stop!” You huffed noncommittally as your hands came down to rest on his shoulders, lightly pushing him. “Why my little doe, you taste better this way.”

Alastor pulled back his coy smile on display as he did so, there was something so disbelieved and feral about how he looked despite not being unkept in the slightest. You felt slightly embarrassed by him admitting he liked you sweaty, but it was also comforting knowing that things you thought made you repulsive, actually attracted him.

“Come to bed with me, chérie?” Alastor hummed slyly, pulling your wrists gently toward the direction of the bed, where he was walking. “To sleep?” You asked flatly eyebrow raised, this caused a genuine laugh to bubble out of Alastors chest his head shaking just a bit. “No, and i think you knew that.” He whispered as he tugged you into him and then down onto the bed. You tensed as he did so, sitting up on your elbows you look at him and scold him.

You paused as Alastors gaze beat down on you hotly, it was sinful how he was looking at you with that cheshire grin on his face. He pulled off his glove with his teeth and used his degloved hand to remove the other one before he undid his vest, chucking it aside carelessly. You took a deep breath your heart beating rapidly in your chest as you watched him closely.

Yes you’ve had sex with Alastor before, although neither of you had a high libido so it wasn’t often, and when it was it wasn’t needy like now, no, it was loving, passionate. Alastor tossed his shirt aside crawling ontop of you right after, groaning as he pressed his bulged into the warmth of your thighs. Whimpering you covered your eyes unable to face the lustful look he was giving you.

His warm flesh melted into yours as he lowered himself ontop of you, his skin hot and sticky from being out in the louisiana heat, his breath tickled your skin as his lips dragged around your neck teasingly. “Gosh Al, I - you’re making me feel so- please.” You moaned quietly unable to place the feeling coursing through you. A mixture of wanting to beg him to devour you and wanting to hide yourself away from his heated gestures.

“What is is it you need, my dear?” His voice was sweet like honey as he breathed his sin into your ear, hand coming up under the leg hole of your undergarments, inching closer to your core. You breath was quievered as your hands found there way to his slightly musicled biceps, sinking your nails into them. Finally he backed up on his knees, and yanked down your undergarments, making you gasp.

Your husband has never been this, it made you dizzy and confused, why has he been hiding such ravenousness from you? Alastor looked down at you with pity, your legs reflexively closed before he could get a glimpse of your pretty. “Please darling don’t be modest, I need you more then ever now. I’m a starved man don’t you know? I need your quench.” You watched him as he spoke, his eyebrows knitted his face soft as he mockingly pleaded with you while he undid the button in his slacks and soon pulled down the zipper.

With jagged breaths you watched him disrobe, pulling his cock from his boxers and stroking it for you to see. Precum dripped from the tip and down his shaft, mixing into the dark coiled public hair at the base. “Oh fuck Alastor,” You whined looking away, you heard him chuckle at an octave you’ve never heard before. “What’s wrong darling? Can’t stand to see how perverse you make me? How cruel, honestly.” He huffed before his warm hands came to grip on your knees, yanking them apart. “My dear, you’re absolutely devine, you have no idea. It’s sickeningly cruel on my part, but I can’t help but be greedy about the way I only get to have you. In a world of commons, i get the rare.” Alastors hips slotted in between your thighs like many times before but this time you were so soaked you needed no foreplay. The head of his shaft prodded at your entrance, making your hips tilt forward attempting to gain friction and contact.

“Please Al, don’t make me beg you.” You moaned quietly, ashamed of how quickly you bent to his will. Alastor grinned down at you, admiring your body relaxed and needy beneath him. There wasn’t a soul he’d replace you for, you were everything and more. He could come clean about his murders and you’d kiss his cheek and serve him some whisky for his stress, because you were family, you were his.

Alastor slid into you slowly, feeling every inch of you against him, his thighs pressed against your own, he loved the feeling of you consuming him all at once. The way your body embraced his own was heaven on earth, you were his comfort that he didn’t deserved. As he watched you beneath him gasp, shake and moan as he sunk into slowly, harshly and repeatedly, he whispered sweet nothings to you. He let out a condescending chuckle while calling you a good pet, told you your body was his to love too and for shame for berating it.

You saw stars and he would slowly pull out and slam back in, believing that was the extent of this session. However, Alastor pressed his hips fully up against your own, kneading the softness of your belly as he stilled. Leaning down he captured you in a kiss, catching you off guard. You reciprocated fisting his curly hair and pulling him closer, which in response made him growl and grunt into you. He felt you clench around him at the sound, and in the moment decided he’d show you how good you make him feel, how much he loves you.

Suddenly Alastor pulled his hips back, and grinded back down into you, his public hair tickling your swollen clit, juices from your arousal squelching as he did so. This time he wasn’t slow, his pace was even and moderate, fucking you into the mattress so hard, the springs snapped, the wood creaked and you swore the bed frame was moving. Alastor pulled away from your swollen lips burying his face in your neck, he moaned for you.

You rolled your eyes back at the sounds he made, ahs, uhs and groans that were only for you. “Oh fuck Alastor i’m gonna cum,” You squeaked clenching your toes tightly as he jackhammered into you, breathing and gasping into your ear as he felt you grip him. Alastor wasn’t proud to admit it but he was too weak to respond, instead he bit down, sucking and groaning into your skin. His pace got clumsy as you cried out in ecstasy, coiling your body around him as you came harshly.

Your arm around his back, one arm around his neck and gripping his hair, and your legs tightly locked around your hips, yeah Alastor couldn’t resist himself from shooting strings into you. Your body jolted as he came shaking your while body, his grunts and whines making your sensitive hole clench him nearer. Without a warning his body collapsed ontop of yours, a deep breath escaping him as he finally relaxed. “I’ve never felt that before dear,” Alastor admitted after a moment of silence. “Me neither, made me forget about everything.” You say hazily, your voice lifted and raw from the noises you let out.

Alastor chucked his fogged glasses to the side, pulling himself out with a huff. Smiling sweetly you watched him gently place a kiss on your stomach and walk off. Sitting up you nearly went to call after him, before his naked body came waltzing back with a rag. “Wanna have a lazy evening in chérie?” You hummed approvingly, and attempted to take the rag, he scoffed at you and lightly pushed your hand away. Softly and embarrassingly so, he cleaned you from himself, enjoying the sight while he was at it.

Once finished Alastor returned the rag as you readied the bed, wanting to cuddle with him. Coming back in Alastor went to grab you both clothes before you called to him. “Can, well- i want to feel you still?” You questioned more than said. Shutting the drawer with a slam he grinned like the little cheshire he was and crawled into bed with you. You pulled him in and he you, nuzzling yourself into his chest you whimpered at the contact, feeling various emotions run through you.

“I chose you my dear, for many reasons not only your looks, your love, your passion but your body too, I love all parts of you, and I know how thoughtless people can be, I will protect you from those comments in the future.” Alastor whispers into your head kissing the top of it right after. You caressed his chest with your nails, throwing your leg over his torso. “Thank you Alastor. I love you too, hell there’s nothing that would make me not love you.” Alastor scoffed his grin returning. “Even murder?” He questioned angling his neck to the side to meet your eyes. Smiling up at him you gave a point nod. “Even murder.”

[paperultra]

HOME (TO THE OL’ BALL AND CHAIN)

(OR, THE PIÑA COLADA SONG)

Pairing: Chilchuck Tims x Fem!Chilchuck’s Wife!Reader Word Count: 2,678 words Warnings: Swearing Summary: Five years after leaving your first and only love, you take the plunge into the dating scene – and immediately regret it. Maybe you’re too picky, but none of the men you go out with seem to fit the bill; they’re too non-committal, or too eager, or too happy, or too sad, or simply just too much … so after a particularly bad experience, your youngest makes a last-ditch effort to set you up on a blind date with someone who she insists deserves a chance. You reluctantly agree. read on ao3 | read on quotev

DATE #2: MUSHROOM FORAGING Forest — 1 Mushrooms — 29 Nostalgia — to taste

To make things clear: you had always expected Chilchuck to resent you for leaving him. Regardless of whatever he had felt for you at the time (and it hurts, even now, that you couldn’t be certain about those feelings), your husband had a strong fondness for clear terms and conditions, and as your marriage deteriorated you remember thinking how bad a sin it would be to provide none for your disappearance.

So that is exactly what you did.

You wanted him to resent you. Being resented meant you were a person, that you took up not just space but attention, and that you weren’t just a silent fixture in the home that Chilchuck drank and slept in. You wanted him to understand the frustration of reaching out to someone who wouldn’t reach back. So you left him. It was petty and unconstructive and cruel and –

And it affected him.

In your heart you had known that, and you had counted on it, fearing no repercussions because while Chilchuck was protective, he was never controlling. He would resent you for leaving, but he would not follow.

You just hadn’t considered that his ability to let you go was a punishment in and of itself.

But now?

Now, as you stand at the edge of the trees outside of Kahka Brud, your imagination spirals around the possibility that he hadn’t let you go, but simply let his resentment fester until you came crawling back, gullible and perfectly dressed for a one-way trip down a forest cliff. He had been an adventurer, after all. He would know how to handle bodies.

“There you are.”

Jumping underneath your skin, you turn to see Chilchuck just a few paces away.

“O-Oh. Hi.” He’s wearing the cowl Flertom had sent him, and as he waves at you, you pet your own cowl self-consciously and try not to think about how evenly matched the two of you must look. “You know, when I said we could talk, I was expecting it to be indoors.”

“I figured it’d be easier if we were doing something at the same time. Besides, I didn’t know if you’d be comfortable with me at your place or you at mine.”

“So you decided to bring me out to the middle of the woods with no witnesses?”

You don’t mean to sound so serious, but the way his eyes widen doesn’t help much at all.

He scoffs. “No witnesses? You don’t seriously think that I would …”

You lack the good sense to laugh it off, and a sliver of horror and offense slips through his expression.

“Look,” he exclaims, “I’m not gonna lie and say I was never mad at you, but I wouldn’t off you in the middle of the woods!”

You grimace, wanting to shrink inside yourself once he says it aloud. Of course. This is Chilchuck you’re talking about. This is the man with whom you had shared meals, sown fields and raised children. Even at his worst, he’d never laid a hand on you. Murder? Why would you even think –?

“I know. I’m sorry, I’m just – nervous, I guess,” you blurt, regret filling the space between your words. “I just don’t know what to expect from all of this.”

“Well, rest assured, you’ll come out alive and well,” Chilchuck replies sardonically.

“I’m sorry.”

He stares at you before taking a deep breath. “… It’s fine.” He exhales in a way that tells you it is not in fact fine, and you wring your hands shamefully as he scratches his head. “We can go somewhere with more people around.”

“No, I’m okay. Really.”

“You sure?”

You nod. “I’m sure,” you insist, inwardly cursing yourself for setting such a sour mood. You’re the one who agreed to this. Remain civil. “So what are we doing, anyway?”

Though he still seems a bit put off, Chilchuck holds out a wicker basket towards you. “Mushroom foraging,” he says in Half-Foot, village drawl creeping in along the syllables and peeling the ends off the words. 

You blink, then laugh.

“I haven’t done that since Puck moved out.”

“Me neither. But apparently this is a good place to do it, and it’s pretty early so not a lot of people are around.”

You take the basket from him, and the two of you wade deeper into the forest.

The dirt-wet smell of fallen leaves and the scurrying of hidden critters dig up memories from an old life. Your home village was surrounded by a forest much like this one, and you remember yourself, small and tucked away in layers of wool, scrambling to pick the biggest, best-smelling mushrooms for your family’s dinner. Chilchuck, buried in his own warm clothes, would complain that you wanted to hog all the mushrooms, but after poor harvests he’d always sneak a few more from his basket into yours when you weren’t looking.

(It was a habit that he never completely shook, even after you discovered it – making sure you had enough, even if it meant having less for himself, and pretending that he didn’t mind either way.)

After what feels like an eternity walking in silence, you reach a small dip in the forest floor. A large tree had fallen across it, and jutting out from the softening wood are the bread-brown shelves of your first fungi.

“Here,” Chilchuck finally speaks again, and he hands you a small knife. “Forgot to give you this.”

The unspoken Do you feel safer now? lingers between the two of you like a bad taste. You accept the knife with doleful thanks and start cutting into the base of the mushroom alongside him.

It’s quiet again, and you tolerate it until you can’t.

“You’re still upset.”

“I said it’s fine. Not like I don’t deserve it, anyway.”

Irritation prickles your tongue on instinct but dies just as quickly. “No,” you say, dropping a chunk of mushroom into your basket and facing him fully. “I’m not going to accept that.” Like I had so many times before. “I assumed something terrible about you, so please just tell me how you feel about it.”

Chilchuck scowls and clicks his tongue. “I –” he cuts himself off and sighs. His eyes close, expression loosening, and when he opens them again, it’s to look at the ground. “I’m still not too good at that,” he murmurs.

“Just be honest. That’s all I’m asking.”

His eyebrows twitch. You wait.

“… If you say so.” He busies himself with a ham-of-the-forest, avoiding your gaze. His voice peters out to a tone that only a half-foot can decipher. “Yeah, I’m still upset. I’ve never hit you or talked or even thought about hurting you physically. Ever. So honestly, I hate knowing that you don’t feel safe around me anymore.”

Something tells you that another apology is unwanted, so you swallow it down. “That’s fair,” you say, carefully weighing your words. “I … I really don’t think you’d put me in danger. But like I said earlier, it’s just that I don’t know what to expect, so my mind keeps making up worst-case scenarios. We haven’t spoken in so long and I”—you hesitate—“I didn’t know if you were still angry with me for … for leaving you.”

“I’m not. Not anymore.” He makes eye contact with you, and your heart grows heavy at the defeat in his shoulders. “But whenever I sit still long enough to think about it, I still get upset at myself. I was a shit husband.”

“So why now?”

“Huh?”

You clarify. “Why reach out now all of a sudden?”

“Because if I don’t, I never will.” Chilchuck chews his lower lip. He reaches out to cut another mushroom but then pauses, almost sounding shy as he mumbles, “And if it’s one thing I learned from my last dungeon job, it’s that you shouldn’t push away the people you care about.”

Your eyes widen.

“S-So that’s how I feel. Your turn.”

You open your mouth, close it, then open it again like a befuddled clam. You do this a few times before Chilchuck’s eyebrow twitches.

“Don’t go twisting my ears,” he mutters, though the quip is blunted by the red in his cheeks.

“Sorry, it’s just – this is the most open you’ve been with me since you started adventuring,” you say, hand over your mouth.

“It weirds you out, huh.”

“No! Well, a little bit. But not in a bad way.” Your voice quiets, embarrassed. “It’s nice.”

“Oh.”

The two of you stand in silence for a moment. Then, as if jolted by lightning, you resume your mushroom harvesting with renewed gusto. Chilchuck cuts one last decent shelf of fungi from the tree, and then the both of you climb out of the dip and towards the faint sound of a bubbling creek.

By this time, your face has finally cooled down, allowing another question marinating in your mind to make its way into the light. “Are you still living in the same house?” you ask, examining tree roots as you pass by them.

“No. I rented it out to Lilituck and her family. I’m in a smaller place closer to the Island.”

“Lilituck moved to Khaka Brud? I didn’t know.”

“I’m guessing you haven’t really been in the loop for a while.”

“I guess not.” You wrinkle your nose. Everyone back home noses into each other’s business as a matter of principle, and other than the sparse letters you’re obliged to exchange with your mother, you haven’t involved yourself for some time. You just know your and Chilchuck’s separation circulated like wildfire when the village first got wind of it. “Do you talk to them a lot?”

“Not really. Maybe every once in a while – oi.” He suddenly ushers you around a large rock, and though his hand does not touch your back, you can nearly feel the print of it hovering over your cloak. “Watch your step.”

“I am,” you protest, only half-fibbing.

“Sure.” He withdraws. You sense a hesitation that he quickly tucks away into his pocket. “Anyway, the last time I talked to them was last winter about fixing something at the house. That’s it.”

There’s a stout pair of mushrooms up a slope a few feet away. You point them out, and Chilchuck climbs up after you, remarking something about watching out for tripping hazards while you roll your eyes at his preoccupation. It’s not entirely unjustified, as the fallen leaves are thick and hide tangles of broken branches, but you stay upright and reach your destination without incident.

“These are healer’s caps.”

Chilchuck hums in agreement. You squat down to feel the round tops. They’re soft, almost leathery, and smell sweet. As your fingers trail down to grasp the stem of one of the mushrooms, Chilchuck crouches down as well.

“What?” you ask.

There are tones that waver in his throat before he clears it. Chilchuck breathes in slowly, and the relaxation that had been slowly building up over the past half-hour comes to a standstill.

It is hardly surprising when he asks, “When did you know you were going to leave?”

You pick the mushroom. “… It’s hard to say.”

“Humor me.”

The healer’s cap rolls over in your hands. Gnawing the inside of your cheek, you put the mushroom into your basket, wiping the dirt from your fingertips.

“I guess I started thinking about it after we had that argument about when you’d stop going into the dungeons. I don’t know if you remember it.” The silence tells you that he does. “You said it wasn’t my job to complain about something I didn’t know anything about. And I said I didn’t know anything about it because you never talked about your work. And then a few days later, you brought me to have dinner with your party.”

“Right,” Chilchuck mumbles. “You were in a bad mood that night on the way home.”

“I was.”

“Why?”

“I guess partly because I was jealous.”

He lets out a noise of disbelief. “Of who? I never –”

“Not like that, Chilchuck.” Setting your basket on the ground beside you, you rest your chin in your hand and look over to see him staring at you, perplexed. “I sat with you and your work friends, and you were all relaxed and laughing about stories I had never heard from you.” A laugh puffs out from between your teeth, bitter from years past now that it’s all dug up. “And I realized that I really didn’t know anything about your life out there without me, and that it was a lot bigger than your life with me.”

That’s the selfish truth of it, isn’t it? You had never wanted a glamorous life. A small life was all you had ever needed; caring for a home and raising three kids were both things you had loved. But kids grow up and a house starts feeling less like a home when you’re the only one there for days on end, and as you trailed behind your husband that night, it had dawned on you that your small life had shrunk to something you could barely recognize.

Mere existence, like an afterthought.

When Chilchuck responds, it’s in a whisper. “I didn’t know.”

“Of course not. We never got around to talking about things like that.”

“Because I was a coward.” He sounds pained. “I made you feel alone.”

Yes, you think, you came home but you always left half your dinner on your plate and nothing in your mug and answered with one or two sentences and fell asleep before we could say goodnight to each other. And it felt like that was everything you could give, and I still felt alone.

You lift your shoulders in some semblance of a shrug.

“You did.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.” Picking the second healer’s cap, you stand up and offer it to him, inches from his chest. You smile wryly. “I can tell.”

Quietly, Chilchuck takes the mushroom. His eyes are glossy and you look away before the sight begins to hurt too much.

You reach the creek not long after that, following it for a bit, absorbing the cold, trickling sound in between your breathing and heartbeats before moving on. And although you find it difficult at first, conversation eventually trickles back between the two of you, turning to the girls, work, spices to use with the harvest. Perhaps all of it distracts you; before you know it, the sun has climbed in the sky and it’s time to start heading back.

Once you and Chilchuck reach the edge of the forest, you set your baskets down and sort through everything. There ends up being quite a bit less than you are used to. Chilchuck insists on a seventy-thirty split, what with there being two people in your household compared to his one, but your stubbornness is able to whittle it down to sixty-forty. Carrying out the compromise is another challenge, however.

“I saw that,” you say sharply as his sneaky fingers attempt to put another mushroom into your basket. “That’s yours.”

“It’s Fler’s favorite.”

“No, it’s not. Put it back.”

“I don’t –”

“‘I don’t want it’ – that’s what you always say,” you exclaim, catching it before it lands onto your pile. Tossing it at his face does nothing as his reflexes snatch it up even quicker than yours had. “There. You can hardly have a full meal with your share as it is.”

“So what? If that happens, I guess I’ll just have to go and steal whatever you’re making,” he retorts.

Whether it’s for his sake or yours, you ignore the small tensing of his shoulders at the declaration, merely hiking your skirt up to walk away with a haughty scoff.

“Good luck with that!”

(Perhaps you allow yourself to entertain the possibility. Just a little bit.)

The sunlight warms your face as you enter the open field once again. Chilchuck joins you soon enough, and though he hides it within his cowl, you can hear him grin.

—

prev

[multific]

In Love with a Monster

Ivar the Boneless x Reader

A/N: Dedicated to the one and only @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl

Summary: Being in an arranged marriage, you told your husband was a monster.

"He is a monster, yet you want me to marry him?!"

"It is best for our kingdom. And it is final, you will marry Ivar!" your father's words sent shivers down your spine. You have been arguing and trying to reason with him for the past hours to no avail.

Your father was a stubborn man, ever since you lost your mother, it got worse.

But having you marry a Viking? 

He said it was to ensure the relationship since Vikings were great at fights.

He explained that soon, a carriage will arrive for you and you will be taken to Kattegat to your husband.

And it was final.

You felt betrayed by your own father.

But what did you expect?

You knew he had been looking for a husband for you. You just never expected that he would find such a man, or as he said, a monster.

You had a terrible nightmare, dreaming of monsters as you woke up in cold sweat. 

Your life might as well end now.

But the next day, just as your father said, the carriage arrived and soon, you were on a boat sailing towards your demise and misery.

To be married to a Viking monster.

---

Ivar on the other hand was rather excited. When his mother told him about a Princess he will marry, he found himself to be rather excited and nervous.

He walked with his brothers towards the waters, seeing the boat, Ivar let out a sigh.

Hoping his bride would not be too afraid of him.

---

As you got off the boat a kind woman stepped forward. She was the Queen, wife of Ragnar, Aslaug. 

"Meet my sons, this is Ubbe, Sigurd, Hvitserk and your husband to be, Ivar." you kindly bowed to all of them and you could feel them staring at you. You wondered if your dress was possibly too much. You knew better than to stare but you did notice the weird contraption around Ivar's legs.

"He is a cripple, he cannot walk but do not let that fool you, he is a monster, a terrible murderer who would take down an army by himself." your father's words rang in your head.

"Currently the wedding is being planned so I think it would be best to let you rest, I'll show you to your room." said Aslaug, breaking the silence. 

You nodded one last time and the men in front of you before turning to follow their mother. She guided you to a house and inside she showed you a room. "Now, this would be only before your wedding, of course after it, you would be with Ivar. Welcome to Kattegat." she smiled before leaving you alone in the room to get ready for the wedding.

You let out a sigh.

"Are all monsters this handsome?" you said to yourself quietly before two servants arrived to get you dressed.

---

"You are lucky, Brother!" said Hvitserk as he patted Ivar on the back, they all walked off the docks, heading to their business. "She is a beauty!"

"And a Princess! You are clearly mother's favourite child, giving you such a bride. OR she just feels sorry for you." said Sigurd but Ivar didn't pay any mind to him.

His mind was filled with you.

How beautiful you looked, how shy you were. He was certain you have seen his legs, or at least heard about them. 

Ivar couldn't stop thinking about you. His senses were filled as he could recall a small whiff of your scent. Such a sweet and innocent woman you were, he could tell.

You will be the perfect wife and a great Viking.

His princess.

---

You looked at yourself in your gown as the servants left and gave you some space. 

You felt your hands shake, you knew you were about to be married to a monster.

You were terrified.

You learned a long time ago that people with beautiful faces can be the most cruel. 

And it is what you expected.

---

Ivar watched you walk towards him. Looking like a goddess, Ivar's breath was taken away immediately.

He could tell his brothers also had the same thought. 

Soon, you will be his wife, only his. 

He could see your hands shake as you said your vows.

You were his now.

His woman.

His wife.

His Princess.

His.

As the wedding concluded, now it was time for celebration. Everyone danced, drank and ate.

Ivar saw you looking around, as if trying to learn the habits. Ivar liked that you were willing. 

You, on the other hand, stared at all these people while feeling the burning looks coming from your left, Ivar kept staring at you, making you nervous.

You didn't want the night to end. You were terrified of being alone with him. You did everything that you could just to avoid being alone with him. 

You were rather surprised that Ivar didn't do anything that evening. He showed you his home but that was it, he soon headed to his bed and slept. Leaving you and your thoughts alone.

You were thankful he didn't force you.

---

This went on for a couple of days.

Ivar either ignored or barely acknowledged your presence. 

And you, were terrified of him. Being how your father put all these ideas into your head before he sent you off. 

Slowly, you started to believe they weren't true.

A monster would surely have hurt you or forced you. Ivar never did.

A monster would hurt you or leave you out in the cold. Ivar never did. Instead, he invited you into his home, his bed even, gave you furs and always made sure the fire was crackling away in its place.

During the first days, you would be afraid to fall asleep, fearing he would try something while you weren't aware of it.

But not anymore.

Slowly but surely you were coming around. 

You often heard his brothers tease him about his legs. You wondered if you should say something, but you never did.

Until tonight. When Sigurd decided to be cruel. Ivar was crawling on the floor towards Sigurd when he laughed and pulled the chair back, making Ivar fall. 

You hit the table and stood up. Your eyes locked with Sigurd's you felt everyone staring at you as the room went completely silent.

Sigurd smirked.

"Would the princess like to say something?" his mocking tone changed something inside you.

"We already know you have a tiny cock Sigurd. No need taunt my husband to try and prove otherwise." Sigurd's eyes nearly fell out of his head as Ubbe and Hvitserk laughed. Sigurd looked at Ivar before he walked out of the room, you sat back and finished your meal.

You had no idea what came over you. But you certainly didn't regret it.

"So, you do talk." said Ubbe and it made you look at him.

"Of course I do."

"You have fire in you. You'll be a great Viking." he said as he leaned back in his chair, smirking but you only looked back at your food as you ate. 

You didn't look at Ivar intentionally.

But he was looking at you.

You actually stood up for him. While everyone just sat there laughing, you actually stepped up and defended him. 

And he was grateful.

He had a feeling it wasn't out of pity but rather you had enough of his brother's teasing. 

Ivar smiled to himself as he headed back to his bed. Having his little wife defend him felt truly great. Before, only his mother stood up for him, but now, you did too.

Ivar knew you are afraid of him. It is clear in your actions. But as he pulled his shirt off and laid back in his bed, closing his eyes, all he could think about was you and how beautiful you looked as you told his brother off.

When you entered the room, your eyes were immediately drawn to Ivar. He looked to be asleep on the bed, furs pooling around his waist and his chest on full display.

You were rather taken aback. 

You have never seen him like this before. 

You were shocked. He looked so peaceful and soft. 

The tattoos adoring his chest only made his skin more stunning. The fireplace gave his skin a gorgeous glow. 

You wanted nothing more in that moment than to run your fingers over the ink on his skin.

You wanted nothing more than to kiss every inch.

He looked so comfortable, you wanted nothing more than be held by his arms.

Those strong arms.

You took silent steps, fearing you would wake him. But as you moved to lay down, he stirred as he turned and looked at you.

"I didn't mean to wake you." you said with a low voice. His eyes searched yours, slowly he moved in bed, slightly getting closer to you.

"Are you still afraid of me?" his sudden question made you question yourself.

Sure, during the last couple days, he had been nothing but kind to you.

And it did make you wonder.

He was surely not a monster.

"I don't know." your answer was honest, but you wouldn't say you were scared it was more cautious. 

Cautious because you feared you might have fallen in love with him. And you weren't sure what to do with these feelings.

"My father told me about you before I arrived and I don't think he was right."

"What did he tell you?"

"He told me you were a monster, covered in blood with a wicked smile. Tole me you were a rough man and I would be happy to live a day within your claws. But, I believe he was wrong." you looked down at your hands before looking up into his beautiful eyes. "You have been nothing but kind towards me. I heard you in the kitchen making sure everything was to my liking. You asked your mother for advice and I heard her talk with you about me. I judged you prematurely, and for that, I apologize."

"You are very different from us." he said moving to sit against the pillows. "Your dresses, your hair, the way you speak, eat. I'm simply mesmerised. I feel like I'm falling in love with you, yet don't know anything about you."

There was a moment of silence as you tried to process what he just told you.

"You can be angry and proud, but you can also be gentle and caring. I wouldn't say I love you Ivar, but I can say that I can see myself falling in love with you. I believe we could be happy together here in Kattegat."

"You defended me today. Only my mother did that before."

"I simply had enough of your brother. He believes teasing you would prove his strength but it only shows his weakness. I do like your family however. I do not have siblings, so it is nice to see."

"How many times did Hvisterk try and bed you?" you let out a sigh.

"About... five. But even so, he never touched or forced me. He just simply asked, which I always declined."

"I know you did. He would have told me if he fucked you."

"D-Don't say it like that, please! I wouldn't... sleep with your brother anyway. I believe in the unity of marriage it is sacred." 

"I know you do." Ivar smiled. "Whatever should I do to make you love me, you name it."

"I believe you are already doing enough just by being so patient with me. If you could... I-I would like to be your wife, not just the woman who sleeps in your room. I wish to be a real wife to you as you would be a real husband."

"Tell me what is it you mean by that." Ivar moved even closer, grabbing your hand and placing it on his chest. You looked deeper into his eyes.

"I wish for us to find love in one another. A companionship. I wish to be the one who can calm you when you are the most angry. I wish for us to kiss and make love. To have a future and a happy life."

"You speak so sweetly. Your father was not fully wrong however. I did kill many before and I will continue to do so. If that bothers you-"

"I doesn't. It is who you are. I see it now. It is how Viking's are. I do not want to change you. I quite like you the way you are."

"Even my legs?"

"I do not care for your legs. I believe God had to take something from you otherwise you would have been too powerful." your hand moved to his neck as you pulled him closer until your lips met his. 

You were still why and Ivar could sense that, so he decided to take lead and kiss you with passion.

He soon pulled back, "Now that we kissed, I believe it is time to make love." the way he said it, his accent made a shiver run down you spine, he moved you close to him, his lips finding your neck as his hand held your waist. 

You felt your hands shake but this time, it was more excitement than nervousness.

---

The next morning you woke up to a feeling rather strange, someone was holding you and you felt more tired than you should.

Then after just a second, the memories came back. 

Suddenly, you realized who the arms belonged to and just why you were naked.

It was very early as you could tell, Kattegat was still asleep.

And judging by the soft snores behind you, so was Ivar.

Last night was the first ever you spent with him, it was the perfect night. 

And now, feeling his breath on your neck as his arms held you to his chest, you felt at ease. You felt happy.

You managed to fall in love with the monster.

Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster @capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak   @manduse   @jacalineiscomingforyou​  @mandoloriancookie

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, PLAGIARISE, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS  

[blacklunardice]

Request from Ao3: Question: I saw you have x-men on here, what would Logan do as a Yandere? Would he be more romantic or like a dad (I could see both ways) just in the 1st movie alone without his memories he’s very protective Would it be any diffrent if he had the instincts of a wolf? And even with his memories he has quite the past… and the fact that he can’t die…. Would he force stricken to give her a healing factor gene too and the metal so she’s nearly as indestructible as him? … is it bad I’d love to see him use Stryker and them end him and his operations permanently (he could make it so Stryker is the bad guy in all of this and even get the one he likes (romantically or fatherly honestly would love both) to help kill Stryker he’d be like a hero to them, making it that much harder to leave him!

Warning(s): Mentions of murder (not towards Darling), Possessive Behavior/Thoughts, Aggressive Behavior

I can also see it both ways as well! It just really depends on his viewpoint on you. Either way, it doesn't change how protective he is regarding your life and safety.

There's this high need to be by your side, yet he keeps his distance. Given what he's been through and who he's lost, it's his instinct. Even so, he lingers around, making sure you're okay.

Gonna be real here, he acts more like an actual wolverine than a wolf. Wolves are pack animals and aren't that aggressive unless you mess with them. Wolverines, however, are highly aggressive, territorial, and solitary animals (who also take on animals much larger than them but can be aware if the fight is too much for them). Does fit with Logan, unfortunately for anyone who tries to get too close to you.

His jealousy and possessiveness are much higher in the romantic route. You're like his lifeline, his light in the darkness. With such a past like his, you are literally the best thing to ever happen to him. A breath of fresh air. However, he's so... guilt-ridden. There's this sense of self-deprecation and hatred he has within himself that prevents him from getting too close to you. He'd opt to watch from a distance, acting as a protector from afar. 'Cause like hell he's leaving you alone even with the painful thoughts of him not deserving you.

It doesn't matter if you are a mutant or not, Logan will still be overly protective. Both scenarios will have you in a vulnerable spot for danger. Being a mutant just means bouts of discrimination and the possibility of cruel people (like Stryker) taking advantage of you. He would kill that entire facility if they ever try touching you or using you against him (if you're human or mutant in this scenario).

I fully believe he wouldn't go through having the same procedure that Weapon X placed on him done to you. He doesn't want them touching you, period. He'd hate himself if you were ever hurt or put in danger like that. So no, he wouldn't try to do anything like that to you. Maybe another way to keep you with him will arise, even if it is extremely selfish of him to wish for it. 

[tteokdoroki]

ೀ⋆OCT 23RD JENIFER'S BODY ━━ eijirou kirishima + monsterfucking !

୨୧ — caution, you are now watching. eijirou kirishima + monsterfucking. there’s something weird going on with you. you’re like…actually evil. not college girl evil, and it’s kinda hot. (5.5K)

୨୧ — rated r. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, dark content, characters aged up to 20s, college!au, friends to lovers (?), mentions of death/murder, demons, gore, choking, gags, marking, blood play, knife play, creampies, cockwarming, monsterfucking, rough sex, unprotected sex, demon + fem!reader, monster-hunter!kirishima.

୨୧ — director’s note. back again for another week! sorry for the delay on this one! it's for sure one of the spookier fics so pls proceed with caution and enjoy <3 - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ✧

what does it mean to die?

by definition and according to the oxford dictionary — to die means to lose the life of a person or organism. any creature that breathes (to all capacities) the same components as air as yourself, that moves, that communicates, that exists. but what does it actually mean to die? 

death is a concept the most humans find difficulty in coming to terms with. there is fear in not knowing what comes after or how it might feel when the flickering flame of your life is finally blown out. do you really see every choice you’ve ever made flash before your eyes? does it hurt? what emotions do you feel? regret, sadness, pain or happiness? 

life can be so fickle, yet is always taken for granted and in a number of ways too. those that exist at this very moment don’t dare to consider the long run, they live in the moment — yes. but do they appreciate it? and then there are those that take life, disrupt the beauty of its natural course and take away a being’s chance to see the world for what it really is. to ruin their chances of love, longing and laughter. how cruel of a human do you have to be to want to hurt someone in such a way? 

these are the thoughts that have plagued eijirou kirishima’s mind as of late, haunting his every waking moment from the second his eyes open, every hour in between, and to the second that they close. death has been a constant theme across the campus of yueii recently. ever since the fire at the beginning of the school year had burned the college’s local bar — it’s been everywhere. 

the disappearances, the murders, the deaths. 

it started with that girl, ochako uraraka, from the college cheerleading team. she went missing after a match at home and was found in the woods later on. then there was kyouka jirou — some emo looking girl who liked to skip class to play her music obnoxiously loud outside of the campus library. her friends shinsou and kaminari had been deeply affected by that. 

and as of yesterday, mina ashidou. 

she was the kind of girl eijirou would have been into if it wasn’t for his long-term boyfriend katsuki bakugou. she was bubbly and loud, but never treated anyone without an ounce of kindness and warmth — mina loved mornings, loved being in class and loved caring for her friends. the redhead had gotten close to her over the course of last semester, mina having joined him for a portion of his major (sports medicine) that coincided with her psych course. during that time relishing in the gift of her friendship and the kind gestures she offered like coffees for nine AM classes or sharing her notes whenever kirishima found things hard to follow. 

she was found dead in one of the newly built frat houses just north of her last class with eijirou kirishima. and like most of the other victims, it looked as though she’d been chewed out by animals, as if she was scared right up until her last moments. 

everyone had begged the question, who would do such a thing? why would they do it? students begin to flee, head home despite the year of lectures and assignments ahead whilst parents sent angry emails demanding that the university do more to protect their children. the killer remained at large, without a pattern, without a trademark nor a trace of evidence. nothing that could give investigators the slightest clue was ever left behind. 

the only coincidence kirishima could come up with, was the very fact that you didn’t seem to care about what happened to mina even though you had been planning a date with her just hours before her death. he distinctly remembers your conversation in the halls, how you’d barely paid the pink haired girl any mind until eijirou struck up a casual (albeit, a little, flirty) conversation with her somewhere along the line. if there’s one thing that kirishima knows about you, his best friend, is that you hate when he’s the centre of attention.

he’s known you for practically as long as he’s been alive, you’ve been friends for the same amount of time too and through years of emotional bonding — eijirou has noted so many little oddities about you. things that he once adored, at least he thought that he did. you hated it when your outfits clashed, you had always jokingly claimed that it made you look like siblings rather than lovers. you were always so possessive, it took you months to accept bakugou as a partner and even more for kirishima to finally get over you… having the inkling feeling that you were leading him on. 

to him, you were everything. a blessing wrapped in the shape of a wonderful human being, worth more than any gold or money a man could find. he loved you more than he should have for a friend, something he was a little too ashamed to admit — he let you take advantage of the kindest parts of his nature because of it. sometimes it almost felt like you wanted kirishima, like you needed him despite swearing that you weren't into the burly redhead. though nowadays, there’s a sinister twist in to his gut whenever you’re around — a cool chill that settles in his bones and a pang of fright to his chest where his heart is. like a knife has sliced right through it. 

you’re not the same as you were before. 

he gets flashes, visions of thinks he feels like he’s not supposed to see — your eyes disappearing into your skull and reappearing in a twisted shade of dark red, deep enough to rival blood diamonds and rubies. oftentimes there’s a devil’s tail and demon fangs that drip with a viscous substance akin to the one that runs through his veins and carries oxygen to his lungs. and in the days after his visions, you seem more full of life, more confident and hotter than previous ones. 

that’s when it hits him, like a sturdy building coming down on eijirou all at once. rose tinted glass shatters around him, knocking his skin — making him bleed as it’s shards form a truth that he has been dreading. 

whatever it is that you are, whatever it is that you’ve become is the reason for all of this death. 

eijirou kirishima’s best friend… you… are a demon, a demonised college student that kills college girls for sport.

in one of his dreams, eijirou sees you soaked to the bone in blood like you've drowned in a rouge tainted oil slick. you’re still as ethereal as you’ve ever been, perhaps even glowing — and even though it’s just a dream and he knows what you’ve done, he still finds himself that boy who years for you and your body against his. on top of his. moving with his—

shooting up from the comfort of his sheets, kirishima palms the dull ache at the forefront of his mind as he tries to rid himself of all thoughts regarding you. funnily enough, you’re already there, waiting for him practically naked at the foot of his bed as if eijirou had used a demon circle to summon you in the middle of the night. it never used to be like that, where he’d call for you and you’d actually answer. 

you’ve been in his room more times than he can count — put posters up with him, had sleepovers, danced to old music on his stereo tapes. but this time isn’t the same. firstly, you’ve never been bare below the waist and secondly, you’ve never looked this insane or deranged. the hairs on the back of the redhead’s neck stand on end, his spiked pulse — elevated and alive steadily thumps through him so loud he’s scared that you might hear it… and yet….

“what are you even doing here? don’t you know it’s late?” kirishima yawns, stretching out his tired limbs as he holds his arms above his head for some relief in his taut muscles. 

peeking a crimson eye open to look at you, the smear of blood at the corner of your plump lips doesn’t go unnoticed by him, though, it still doesn’t elicit the reaction eijirou expects from himself. the innate human desire to survive. 

“i owe you an explanation.” the smile that you give him is too fast to be genuine, just barely reaching your big shiny eyes. there’s that feeling again, the knots in eijirou’s stomach — the ones that let him know something is off. “you know what i am, i want to tell you why.” your tone is sickly sweet like molasses in his ears, innocent as if you’re not a demon. 

as if you’re not the one behind all of this death. you explain to kirishima in detail about the night a group of bandmates sacrificed you to satan so that they could go global. how they mistook you for a virgin sacrifice. how the devil resides within you now. you tell him about the blood of your victims and the missing people. how it’s the only thing you can stomach. how it makes you grow stronger, how it heals you, how much you love the new version of you. the murderous you. 

he thinks you might have gone insane when you flip a lighter from your pocket to burn your tongue — showing how you recover almost instantly. it’s only then that fear strikes eijirou in the chest with the power of a lightning bolt — realising that he’s well and truly lost his best friend. to satan or to insanity. 

poor, gullible, eijirou kirishima — for doubting that his best friend could be capable of such heinous crimes. and while you stand there, looking more alive and more beautiful than ever… he just can’t fight the feeling that makes him want to run. 

the red head quickly realises that he’s no longer faster or stronger than you. for your demon powers have you reaching the bed before he can even throw off the sheets. your toned thighs swing around his waist to lock eijirou down to the bed, his back hitting the blankets with a dull thud and his wrist nearly crushed in your hand — wrestling his concealed knife away from your chest, just barely nicking you.

“why would you want to hurt me, eiji?” you comment softly, acting as if everything is as it were before you changed.  “it’s still the same old me!” the both of you are breathing deep from where your old friend thrashes underneath you, his pupils dilating and casting a dark shadow over his terrified red eyes. “i really don’t want to hurt you.” 

this could be it. he thinks. his life flashing before his eyes just like the stories say. “t-then don’t…” kirishima stutters, the pitch of his voice spiking as you shift on top of him — inspecting him as if he’s a piece of meat. you have him right where you want him, his blade under your control, his vital organs open and vulnerable. one wrong move and kirishima could be next on your list of life-force victims. “you don’t have to.” 

“you’re right… i don’t think i will.” cooing, you take your free hand down eijirou’s muscled body, tongue darting out to wet your lips while your hips grind down on his swelling erection — painfully hard from the mix of arousal and fear coursing through his blood stream. “on one condition,” you continue on, moaning lightly at the sensation of your clothed clit catching on his cockhead. “you let me feed from you.” 

“w-will you kill me?”

“only if you stop trying to kill me.” you’re not upset, from what he can tell — revelling in your best friend’s guilt and betrayal as his knife drags along your collarbones in a thin slice from where you’ve let your guard down. 

a crimson gaze flickers to all of the vital points on your face — searching for your innocence and any traces of who you once were. seizing the opportunity hiding within your hesitation and the crack in your resolve, kirishima tries once more to shove you off of him but makes the mistake of trusting your facade. he’s quick but you’re quicker, raking your nails over his toned stomach until they catch on the waistband of his shorts. as soon as his erection springs free — wetly slapping against his stomach whilst precum tangles in the coarse black of his pubic hair, you slither your hot cunt down on to him. 

straight to the hilt. 

your thighs either side of his angled hips keep the redhead anchored to his sheets and your hands splayed across his stomach stop him from writhing away from your quivering cunt as it clenches around him. not that he’d want to. pull out of you, of course. eijirou grows delirious, hot under the collar at the feeling of his weighty cock pulsing against your biscuits, squishy insides. a tender whimper bubbles up on his slightly chapped lips, his pointed teeth sinking into the swell of his lower one to try and muffle the pathetic sound. 

he can hardly believe this. that is best friend, whatever form you might be taking right now, is sitting on his fat, drippy dick like he’s always dreamed of. any guilt kirishima has pulsing through his veins (in regards to basically cheating on  bakugou, his boyfriend, no less) is replaced by white hot blistering lust. it burns at his nerve endings, painfully tremors through his erection trapped by your welcoming wet walls.  it leaks against pleasure spots in the form of sticky precum — white and thick as it paints your pussy while you cockwarm him. 

kirishima swallows and his adam’s apple bobs, he looks up at you through his dark long lashes without a word — afraid this his voice will fail him and end up in a moan.  

“please, eijirou,” you purr, completely devoid of any blame-worthiness or evidence of your wrong doings. you’ve killed people. innocent girls for your own bloodlust and now you’re where — seated on your bestie’s dick as if your crimes mean nothing. and with a pussy like yours, wrapped around kirishima so warmly and tightly, he might start to believe that you’re innocent too. “let me feed from you, promise i won’t hurt you. i just…need…”

leaning down towards his neck, your hips shift above his own, encouraging his heavy girth to sink deeper inside of you — walls rippling pleasurably around him. the sudden movement causes a low, and needy groan to take residence in kirishima’s chest — taking root in his lungs and other vital organs. his head tips back into the pillows, ruby, blood red locks tussled against their fabric as a bead of sweat rolls down his forehead and another down his chin. tracing the ridges of his adam’s apple and the column of his throat. 

his eyes don’t dare flutter shut, coasting over your every move as your lips ghost over his prominent collarbone and then his neck — pressing into his pulse pout where his heartbeat races, fear and adrenaline shooting through his body thanks to the steady thump of his heart. 

you hear it all, the frightened tune of eijirou’s bodily orchestra only causing your mouth to water. “just need to taste you…” pouting, you nudge the point at which his chiselled jaw meets his neck. “need you.”

slowly but surely, your hunger reveals your truest form — and instead of the sweet girl eijirou kirishima once new, you sprout demon horns and a tail, nails that could tear a throat out, teeth that could surely cause carnage and a feral grin proving to the redhead that you would eat him alive. in contrast, your tone is sweet like syrupy honey or hard candy, the kind that eijirou loves — it’s salacious and full of wanton and he knows that he should resist. but you’ve always had a way of getting what you want out of him — he can never say no to you. you are his girl after all. 

and no matter how hard he tries to escape your clutches — he will always be yours. 

“f-fine,” kirishima barks, albeit shakily. “t-take what you need. just as long as you promise not to kill me.” 

“pinky, baby.” comes your angelic coo, contrasting with the deep red of your own blood as it drips against kirishima’s golden boy skin. your hands massage over his sensitive pecs, smearing your hot blood over his nipples as they pebble under your fiendish touch. there’s a devilish spark in your pretty eyes once he agrees, and so, you latch onto his gorgeous, golden tanned skin ready to feed on kirishima to your heart's content. 

as the pointed edge of your teeth sink into eijirou’s neck, his hips instinctively turn upwards and nudge his thick cock against your womb while layers of your juices spiral down each prominent blue vein that decorates his shaft.  you bite down, hard, bruising him with shades of deep purple and midnight blue as if you’re creating a work of art.   you suck the life from kirishima, close to draining his blood as if you’re a vampire fledgling with her first catch of prey. 

there’s a weakness and a fuzziness that sits comfortably over eijirou’s brain, enhanced by the steady stream you set your hips — gently lifting and dropping them over the red head’s lap. the more energy, the more life force, that you drink from him — a mix of your blood and his glossing over your lips, the more turned on you feel. your cunt drips down his balls like a never ending tap, you’re so wet that a lewd slap echoes throughout your best friend’s bedroom. 

even though you’re the one in control, guiding the hum of ecstasy that courses throughout kirishima's entire body, the waves that make him tingle from the top of his head to the tips of his toes — there’s no doubt that he has you losing your composure. the delicious burn of his girth against the tight rim of your entrance every time you sink down on the redhead drives you up the wall and pulls innocent whimpers from the bloody seam of your lips. 

having him pressed up against your silken walls, bearing down on that special spot inside your swollen sinful pussy while you drain the man fry of his life force causes your jaw to go slack and tony spurts of his seed to coat your puffy folds. “oh fuck!” you drawl all high pitched, eyes disappearing into your skull as a bemused and blood-coated smile stretches across your angelic face. “you feel like heaven, eiji.” to pacify yourself, you lick over the puncture wound of your teeth that you’ve left against kirishima’s neck, grabbing him by the cheeks and tilting his head so you have access to the other side. “you taste so good, feel even better.” 

“y-yeah?” kirishima asks, his voice shaky and extra husky from the lust. against his better judgement, clouded by all that is you — his rough hands fall to your doughy hips, manoeuvring you on his throbbing dick to his liking. “i-i like the way you fuck me, baby. but please…please move a little faster…”eijirou feels like he’s going insane beneath you chasing your sweltering and souse sex like a man following a mirage to quench his thirst. he behinds to push upward where you bounce your ass and pull off his cock, your hips rocking together fluidly.  

his morals are completely abandoned, he could care less about the fact that you might be a killer, that you’re some kind of otherworldly being — especially when you ride him just like that. you release his raw bitten neck from your jaws of death, face and chin covered in blood and spit, while your hands dance down your chest and tweak at your nipples for your best friend’s viewing pleasure. he groans lowly at the sight, extending a thumb from your hip to reach between your doughy thighs and fat pussy lips so he can spread you wide open for him. 

“g-getting bold, are we eiji?” you simper, ruby red lips caught between your pointy teeth when the rough pad of his thumb grazes your swollen clit as it peaks from between your folds. feverishly, you grind against kirishima’s digit, leaving a treacle-like trace of your sweet nectar against his hand. “so nasty. trying to get me off while i drain you dry. you m-must be delirious. so cute.”

he hates the way that you mock him, poke fun at how fucked up kirishima is for you. even though he knows that you’re slowly but surely killing him, drinking his blood while you take a seat on his achy, wet cock — he can’t help but give into you. eijirou wonders if this is how your other victims went out, if your precious tits swaying in their hot faces were the last thing they saw before you took them out. it’s a crude thought, but it only serves to turn him on even more. picturing you this way above others, your skin shining in the moonlight from the perspiration that glitters over you along with your glistening slit that leaves webs of your slick in his pubic hair.  

while his thoughts escape him and his imagination runs wild, your next move catches the redhead by surprise. you grip his throat tight as leverage as you ride the man for dear life, pudgy thighs slapping against his strong ones, clit grinding  against his pelvis and fingers. “fuck me,” eijirou begs, face twisted in rapture and guilt, cheeks as red as his hair. “fuck me harder, take what you want from me. j-just give it to me.”

it must be the lack of oxygen to his brain that obscures his view of you — the cold hearted killer on campus. because eijirou only sees his best friend, the girl he’s wanted his entire life, falling apart on his creamy cock as it bullies it’s way into your womb. he doesn’t care what you do to him as long as he keeps feeling as high as cloud nine.

the way you fuck yourself down on him right now, it’s like an out of body experience. you’re hot all over, out of control, objects and and Knick knacks around kirishima’s room levitating with  the sheer amount of power and euphoria pulsating through your sweaty bodies as they move together in a shamefully slurry dance.

his head rolls to the side when you speed up, slamming your clenching cunt down on him with an erratic rhythm — a crude mix of your arousals flying about the place and wafting with the scent of metallic blood in the sex trained air. “you’re so needy, eijirou. bakugou hasn’t been taking care of you.” you tease through baited breath, throwing your hips down on him so that his milky precum spreads along your ribbed and sensitive walls. 

you sink your teeth into his perfectly poised neck once more, leaving your mark and draining him of that life energy again. kirishima wails at your comment, chest heaving and eyes watering, his lungs threatening to explode with blistering lust. the more you bite at him, take his blood and his life, the more powerful eijirou feels. because you seem to have forgotten one key element to your newly found powers. 

where your other victims were torn to shreds, the bites you leave on kirishima leave him with pieces of your demon abilities too. 

“you can’t even respond, s’kinda pathetic, don’t you think eiji?” your words are harsher, meaner, and the red head can’t tell if it makes him want to fuck you or hate you more. “that you’re willing to let me sue you like this. take your life just like every pretty girl before you…maybe when i’m done with you, i’ll pick on your little boyfriend next—“ 

you truly are the fucking devil. 

though everything you say is slurred and in the heat of the moment — you don’t have a chance to finish. every syllable ends in a salacious squeal when kirishima uses his newfound strength to wildly jackhammer into you. so fast and fucking hard that his weighty breeder’s balls smack against the jiggly flesh of your ass. his beefy arms snake their way around your shoulders, anchoring you to his girth while the bed creaks beneath the weight.

“will you fucking quit it?” in split second and surprising turn of events, eijirou has you flipped onto your stomach — sweaty chest to your back and cock so deep his pelvis barely peels away from your ass as it bounces for him. “you promised not to try and hurt me. but if you want it to hurt, then I’ll make it so.” 

cockwarming him hardly prepared you for just how big and blessed your best friend is. chubby, fat and drooly as his cock glides through the sugar glazed lining of your gushy walls. every time your creamy hole clamps down on him, he threatens to crumble. like a mountain with an avalanche, his girth doused in your sweet essence and his breath shaky against your ear. kirishima grips at your demon’s tail where it sprouts just above your ass, stroking it lewdly just to hear you yowl for him. 

the sheets below become victim to your pointed teeth, tearing through the soft linen in an attempt to calm your pornographic screams. “c’mon big guy,” you growl into the sheets, muffled, needy and amused, while you run your tongue over blood soaked teeth. “i thought you were going to make it hurt—“ 

“don’t test my patience, sweetheart,” your best friend snarls back as if you’re two animals fighting over land or territory — using his brute force, eijirou  grips you by the back of your neck in a similar fashion to the way you did him, and yanks you onto your knees so that you’re both kneeling in the bed while eijirou fucks your wet little cunt raw. “if ‘m gonna fuck you, it’s going to be by my rules. so do me a fuckin’ favour and keep your pretty mouth shut, alright?”

the bed squeals louder than you do with this new position, eijirou angling his hips up to meet your g-spot perfectly — letting your eager pussy swallow him down. you lose control quicker than your brain can even realise, overpowered by the way the  redhead brutally pounds into you, milky and heavy precum pearling along your ribbed walls like dew droplets in a black widow’s spiderweb. your sex welcome him home as if he was never meant to leave, clench on his bright red tip as you froth at his base and drop down his balls. 

equally, your mouth foams with copious amounts of spit, your head hanging low while eijirou ruts  you into a state of delirium. he licks the trace of drool seeping out of loud mouth and follows it up to your lips — generously feeding you his hungry moans and strings of spit. keeping you sedated, all for him while your tongues roll over one another in a fierce battle, neither of you knowing who will come out on top. 

“you’re disgusting,” kirishima barks against your nape, giving it a near murderous squeeze — he fumbles around in the sheets and somehow locates the knife from before, pressing its cool blade against your skin with his free hand. you can just about hear him over the pap, pap, pap of his Rick plunging in and out of your slick walls. “don’t you feel guilty? huh? for…fuck, killing anyone?” the metal against your skin makes you moan, makes kirishima light headed and the whole ordeal so much hotter. 

but you somehow manage to smirk in response, throwing it back into the red head aggressively— drowning in the pleasure. “don’t you feel guilty for fucking their killer?”

you grip the knife, pulling it closer to your vitality veins, light trails of blood from the wound smearing along kirishima’s skin meeting your skin. “why shouldn’t i kill you?” 

“y-you don’t have a reason not to!” you battle through the thick drool on your tongue, hyperfocus in the precum and slick slinging between your sore thighs. you’re wrecked and ruined, losing your demon strength to your goodie two shoes best friend. “i’m a god, death doesn’t s-scare me!” with the way his dick churns you up, eijirou stretches you beyond your limits and preps you to take his impending heavy load. “f-fuck! right there, k-kiri!”

it’s so good that your demon powers activate on their own, your insides that burn bright with ecstasy grow so hot that they heat the knife pressed against you — branding eijirou’s hand with your claim until he drops the hot metal. he falters, the rhythm of his thrusts going sloppy while a creamy sound echoes between your sexes. you’ve changed and you’re right. 

if eijirou kirishima really cared about your victims he would have turned you in and ended this all at the first chance. instead he dips into your demonic charm, afraid of what lies on the other end of this sinful ordeal. does he let you go? does he turn you in? does he keep his best friend here in his arms no matter what crimes you may commit?

“oh…oh eiji!” you whine, small and cute. “‘m gonna cum! please cum for me…cum with me.”

gone is his precious best friend, replaced with a slutty demon trying to selfishly such down his cock. lost in the moment of the ecstasy, you reach back and rake your talons across his skin in one last attempt to leave your mark and it’s only then that eijirou has had enough. using all of his strength, he roughly pushes you down to the sheets once more — forcing the sheets into your mouth to keep you quiet. 

“i can’t stand you.” he reiterates, huffing against your shoulder while locks of his hair stick to your hot, sweaty bodies. “you’re so fucking greedy. so evil…”eijirou shifts to press his hand into the pillow next to your head, smiling sadistically at your muffled screams as he puts the last of his energy into making you cum just as you want. because you always get what you want out of him. “y-you don’t even deserve this.” 

“b-but you’ll give it to me,” you pant around your mock gag, swallowing down thickly. “i’ll keep killing if i have to… you’ll still want me…” 

even if it’s true, eijirou always wanting you, he can’t shake the feeling that you’re no longer the girl he used to know. used to love. his warm and kind persona you once knew is replaced with a similar demonic beast full of lust. “yeah i will and you’ll fuckin’ take it.” he threatens, continually bucking into you and nudging your g-spot in a swaying dance of sacrilege. “s-shit, you’re gettin’ tight. are you really that close, so soon?”

all you can do is nod — grabbing and biting at anything to keep yourself calm. the world around you shakes furiously and white blinds your gaze as you cum, juices splashing back onto kirishima’s meaty girth. “let me give it to you, hm? cream this pussy. make you mine like you want…” comes the red head’s last simper before the dam breaks and your demon cunt drains him dry, milking him for every last drop of his potent white seed.

the two of you are reduced to shallow breaths and heavy eyelids — exhausted from the loss of blood and sharing of demon powers. 

but before you can turn around and sing kirishima your praises — the air is sucked from your lungs, a searing pain shooting through your back right through to the centre of your chest. thick, hot blood fills your lungs and the cavity in which they rest, it gathers at the corners of your cherry bitten lips and seeps through the knife wound kirishima has inflicted on you. 

he’s quite literally stabbed you in the back. 

he had no other choice, he couldn’t let you go on hurting people and tarnishing the image of his once best friend. you were different now, you had no place in the world anymore. it was your turn at death’s door, eijirou had decided. 

“i… i’m sorry,” he says carefully, pulling out and away from you as you lay dying beneath him. “i… i couldn’t—“ 

with the last of your energy you offer eijirou kirishima a weak and bloody smile. “s’okay…” your breathing slows in understanding, and he lets go of the knife in your back. “so by any chance… have a tampon?” 

of course you would find it in you to make a joke when faced with death. you weren’t afraid of anything. 

and now, neither was kirishima. 

with his newfound demon powers he wouldn’t let your death nor that of others go in vein. he would find the pro heroes who did his to you, made him do this to you, and make them pay. 

a life for a life. a death for the same price.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[thedomesticanthropologist]

Astarions Agonies

Why WOULD you want to love someone after everything has been taken from you? Everything but your name. Everything but your name

Your sense of taste, the warmth of your skin, your own heartbeat. Your reflection in the mirror. Your home, your clothes, your friends, your family. Your history, memories, your life.

Stripped of all of this, left with only the ability to feel. Mentally. Physically. And then that, too, is broken. Because it cannot be taken, so it must be controlled.

Anyone you care for, murdered. And not just murdered, but you have to do it. You have to bring them to their death. Maybe you have to watch. So you protect yourself, you protect them- whoever they nay be, whoever they could have been. You cannot care. You cannot. The consequences are too high.

Your body, every touch you delight in is perverted by the same solemn end. How can you enjoy this, even as a distraction from the more violent touches you are forced to endure, when you are still being forced? You cannot choose the sweet, the kind, the gentle, for they meet the same fate as the cruel, the evil, the fools. Picking soft touches over harsh ones fades to picking at random, to grabbing whoever you can get. Because it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. It all ends the same way.

And then there is the pain. The Punishments. At first, tastes of who you are- who you can be, are traded out; exchanged for physical torment and 'correction' of your behavior. But the punishments so hea ily outweigh the benefits of a snide remark, a night out too late, a prank, a room visited after being informed it is off limits. A victim you refused to hand over.

This life- no, this Un-death allows for a greater torment than any living person could survive. Hunger, thirst, pain, psychological abuse, sexual abuse. Never, ever ending. There is not a second in the day for two hundred years that you are not watched, used, handled, beaten, starved. Even in your rest there is no relief, for you cannot sleep but only enter reverie- a skill wherein your mind re-lives what you have been through, over and over.

So why would you choose to try to love someone? Why try to trust? Why, when you know what happens when you do?

Perhaps you've been allowed to believe you made it out before, only to have been captured and dragged back. Perhaps you've been allowed to believe a friend or a lover has escaped before, only to be called into a room and advised to clean up their corpse.

The only difference now is the sun on your skin.

The distance between you and that place.

The days, and days, and days that begin to pass with no retribution for your insolence, for your escape.

And these people, these idiots keep... not trying to kill you. Even when they find out what you are. One of them keeps looking at you like they might really care. You can use that, can't you?

Why would you love, when you could use their love to get your revenge?

But... in the wee hours of the morning, in the arms of a living, breathing person who has bedded you more than once and still is not gone forever, you think... maybe, maybe He didn't take it All from you.

Maybe even if he did, you could get it back.

Maybe you could love.

Maybe you could... try living, again.

[whetstonefires]

Do you have any opinions on Scholomance?

I do! I like it a lot. I really enjoyed all three books, blitzed through them easily and was much more excited to see how the plots unfolded than I'm used to these days, as a jaded adult, and I also really appreciated them as works of craft.

Especially the first one, I spent the whole time being all 'wow!' at how simple it was. So easy to read, but no waste. You really need to know what you're doing, to get that kind of pared-down elegance of form to work and still fit so much content in.

Like these are dense, there's a fantastic stylistic minimalism that allows El's character all the space it needs to breathe by making absolutely every other thing and person in the whole novel also do character work for her, which is exactly where the first person voice shines.

Also great use of character perspective to make the pacing feel really natural, so the fact that the first book takes three weeks, the second book takes one year, and the third book is like. Five or so incredibly stressful days spread out over the course of a few weeks? Doesn't feel imbalanced.

I actually got distracted from the story a few times by noticing the strength of Novik's technique. 😂 This is a me problem, in itself it's the opposite of distracting. Very low-profile.

I think the Scholomance is a great example of how far you can go in specfic when you aren't cringing from the label 'derivative,' because the Scholomance books feel very fresh ad clean specifically because nothing in them is concerned with standing out as 'original,' whatever that's supposed to mean, only with being well-executed and suitable to its task.

Hm, maybe that's where Liesel was born, the intersection of the efficient narrative style and the vast proportion of the story that concerns the maximization of utility and the instrumentalization of persons by themselves and others, and the forces that incentivize these behaviors. Or maybe she's just the narrative counterweight to Orion 'Head Empty' Lake lmao. How's that for a principle of balance, Galadriel?

I really did enjoy how beautifully it was laid out, over and over, in dozens of shades of humanity, how no matter where you go in an exploitative system almost everyone is being driven by the same survival instincts.

Because I don't think I've ever seen made so cleanly clear why you just can't expect any person or small group of people, no matter their level of goodwill or status, to unmake one of these systems from the inside; how it's not a matter of people being bad but of every single person being very...small.

And then not retreating into the idea of a person who is Big coming and breaking the cruel system from the outside as some kind of panacea, because 1) that is terrible, even if it's necessary and done in the best way possible and 2) that's not a sustainable answer to anything. Getting a balance between the protagonist being able to effect change and not subscribing to the great man theory of history can be really tricky!

Also did I mention, I love El, and I love most of the cast, even the dreadful ones. How am I going around with this many feelings about Li Shanfeng who doesn't appear until the actual climax?

The romance murdered me a bit, but it took up no more space than it absolutely needed to do its job, and I respect that. Also I appreciated Orion as a love interest; Novik has a slight record at this point of a version of that style of male love interest who's like a caricature of Mr. Darcy but old, which was shaping up to be my least favorite thing about her body of work.

...Orion is kind of like if you took the human king from Spinning Silver and gave him an alignment flip come to think of it, so he's not coming out of nowhere. Lmao.

Which reminds me (re: romance character typing) I've heard Novik didn't want it to be known she was astolat, which this series has renewed my sympathies if so. Because if I were a published novelist I wouldn't want people going 'you know, that resolution was really emotionally satisfying! reminds me of that fic she wrote where optimus prime and megatron get stuck in a hole underground and hatefuck about it.'

I don't even like Transformers. That fic almost made me cry. Actually I suspect it reads better if you don't like Transformers because I'm sure it does not give a shit about canon.

Anyway, whoever pointed out that one of the things El has going on is she's Enoby (and we're going to sit down and explore what the true reason to put your middle finger up at preps is, and what are some constructive ways to channel that socioeconomic wrath, and what it means that there is no ethical consumption under capitalism) was right and I'm not entirely over that either.

Fucking love El's mom as a character. Spectacular level of parent relevance and usefulness. A+.

Aadhya and Liu are also characters who fucking delivered.

Re: minimalism though, I laughed at the start of The Golden Enclaves when I realized that none of the enclaver characters who'd gotten development in the the first two books were from London, the enclave El was theoretically shooting for when we met her.

[lavenderfilledcoffin]

forevermore

adverb

forever; rhetorical manner. forever and more.

*♪¸¸.•*¨･:*ೄ·*♪¸¸.•*¨･:*

Sebastian basically dragged you around the 'shelter' that acted like a luxury mansion.

To be fair, you two were so used to the tiny and cramped space that you called a 'room', this was heaven in comparison.

The burner phones were a little difficult to use because of the lack of any technology the two of you were afforded down at Hadal Blacksite, but you managed to figured it out.

"How does that work? It's so intriguing..." You commented, referring to the internet.

You were debating on calling your mother; you've yearned to hear her voice after so long.

"I think you should, or we could wait. It's up to you, dear."

You hoped she still had the same number...

You dialed; the line was ringing.

After what felt like an eternity, a familiar voice spoke. "Hello?"

You teared up immediately. "M... Mom?" You hated how your voice cracked so pathetically.

"[Name]...?"

"You remembered... I'm so sorry, mom."

"How are you...? Where are you?"

"A lot of shit happened, but I'm okay now. I promise. I can't say where I am, but, I might be able to see you in a week."

"You have no idea how much I missed you." She said through choked sobs; you had never heard her cry before.

"I thought my baby was dead, it hurt so so so much..." You could tell how hard she was trying to hold back tears.

"I'm here now, mom. I wish I was with you."

"You'll come, right?"

"I don't know... I have..." You peek over your shoulder to look at Sebastian, smiling softly. "I have a big surprise, that's for sure."

"That's fine."

"I'll talk to you soon, okay?"

She hummed in response, hanging up before another word could be said.

"Are you alright?" Sebastian caressed your cheek with his left hand in a gentle manner. "I think so, I'm just so... happy." He wiped the small tear that fell from your right eye.

"I am, too." He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours for a passionate kiss.

Your hands made their way up to his face, cradling it just as he loved. A sweet sigh could be heard from him.

The sweet moment felt more intimate than the times you would stay up late with him talking about your pasts.

His larger claw wrapped around your waist, rubbing small circles into it.

You pulled away, catching your breath, but not before pressing a small kiss to his cheek.

"I'm the happiest I've ever been." You pressed your forehead to his, smiling as you do so.

"Me too." He closed his eyes, savoring your delicate touch.

Happy little noises are all that came from the both of you; weights being lifted off of your shoulders.

Sebastian pulled away, knowing he would be glued to you if he didn't stop right.

"What could we do for a week?"

"A lot, actually."

"Like?"

"Eat real food, sleep anywhere, ... I dunno."

Sebastian laughed at your response. "I mean, if that's what you want."

As if on cue; your stomach growled.

"O—oh..." Your face burned with embarrassment, luckily for you, Sebastian didn't tease you about it.

"Me too." He pat your head before slithering to the kitchen, you followed closely behind him.

Whoops, you lost him. A brief thought crossed your mind, 'it's unfair how fast he is.'

You smiled at the thought, returning to finding your fish boyfriend.

"Seeeb?"

Huh, that's odd. Normally, he would've retreated and came back to you, but it's the opposite.

You groaned, stretching your body, looking around the roomy place you were so generously lent.

Was this real?

Before you could scream Sebastian's name, it was forced out of you.

He had snuck up behind you, and yelled 'boo', leaving you in pure shock.

Your scream could rival that of a dumb blonde in a crappy horror movie who's about to get murdered.

"Yeesh, hon... Didn't know you could be that loud." It takes you a moment to process what just happened, you were very very very tempted to punch him, but that was too cruel.

"Wh... You little—" Sebastian happily slithered away; looking over his shoulder to see you chasing him.

"You're faster than you look!"

He took a sharp turn, you nearly tripped trying to replicate what he did.

He had suddenly stopped, and you pounced on his back.

You didn't hurt him, though. How could you? Your face found its way into the back of his neck, softly inhaling his scent.

"Cute." Was all he muttered, rubbing your left thigh with his third hand.

He slithered into the kitchen, wow, he really led you here?

It felt like a jab, but you brushed it off.

He approached the stove. "Wanna know something funny?" He said, grabbing loose ingredients from the briefcase.

"Hm?"

"I have really bad hip pain from sitting up in a weird position for long hours. I honestly blame my size, but, it felt like every new day was my last." He kept going on and on about his back, neck, and hip pain. Poor thing.

"It would be worse because a certain group of expendables would try to climb me, I realllly didn't appreciate that." A sweet scent filled the air; you took a seat near the table while Sebastian cooked.

"I feel like those expendables have some sort of telepathy, honestly. They all did the same thing. Either flash me, or repeatedly enter and exit my shop."

He added... honey? He added honey to the pot, stirring it alongside whatever else was inside of it.

"And?"

"And I never saw them again, poor bastards. But, I couldn't care less."

After making small talk, he finished with the food.

Despite being underground for more than ten years, he hasn't lost his chef-like skills, as he called it.

He moved the chair away from his table, opting to 'sit' on his tail, as it was more convenient for him since the wooden chair was too small, weak, and uncomfortable.

He said the dish was called 'valdiviano', he added his own spin on it, saying meat and honey was good together.

You stared at the plage, picking up the fork with an intricate design.

He wasn't wrong, either. You took one bite, and it wouldn't be a stretch to say it was the best thing you've ever tasted. The sweetened meat mixed with all sorts of flavorings was delicious, heavenly, even. You haven't had a proper meal in so long, you forgot how amazing it was to be able to eat real food.

Sebastian happily ate his food, the savory and sweet meat in it made him purr, it was cute.

You knew he had grown more fond of meat since his new 'transformation' of sorts based off of what he told you.

He finished first, placing his plate into the sink. He waited for you to finish.

"I can wash dishes, you know. No need to wait."

"Yeah, buuut... I'd rather do it."

You swallowed, clearing your throat. "Please, let me?"

"Oh, fine." He sighed, making it sound dramatic before he left you alone in the kitchen.

It took you a few minutes to finish the plate. Full and satisfied, you head over to the stove to grab the dirtied pot, placing both the plate and pot inside of the sink.

As the water warmed up, you began to scrub the soaped sponge.

Your mind wandered as you washed the dishes. For once, all you could feel was peace.

You hummed a small tune as you washed away the soap, the stains now replaced with a shiny gloss.

You set them on a rack, letting them air dry.

It had been two days, five days were left until you could go see your mother.

You and Sebastian have accomplished so much in such short time.

On the second day, got into contact with his mom, she was hesitant to believe that it was him since he was pronounced dead ten years ago. It was a bittersweet conversation according to him. He would tell you the details another time.

You overheard a little bit of it, and you became somewhat flustered after hearing him speak Spanish.

Then on the third day, a headline came out that revealed every single secret that Urbanshade had hidden. Including the inhumane experiments they performed on Sebastian. Not that they dared to say that he was still alive, but that he was innocent. At least his mom could rest easy.

The world map that had the facility blacked out didn't change, but the guards from before had said that the government would handle it.

Your criminal record was purged, and the money that they had given you would be transferred into a reserved bank account. It would be under the guise that 'it was a false imprisonment, and this is major compensation for all the years lost.'

So, now, you were basically protected in every way. You could live life as a normal human.

Sebastian couldn't have that luxury, though. You were saddened, but he told you it was okay. Being on the surface again and living a 'normal' life was all he could ever ask for.

Every single night that you two had stayed at the shelter was spent stargazing.

Your knowledge on stars fascinated him, and you kept on talking about these different constellations that lit up the sky.

Sebastian listened intently, his right arm holding you close to him.

It was the absence of your voice that made him realize you had fallen asleep. He was used to it by now.

Not that he minded it, though. The moonlight only served to enhanced your beauty.

It was like a routine by now. You would ramble, fall asleep, he would pick you up, and then put you into a proper bed.

The rest of the days were filled with laughter, love, and passion. The morning of the seventh day, you two were greeted with the sun's early morning rays illuminating the room.

The gentle warmth it provided made you sigh softly, shutting your eyes briefly while you yawn.

You sleepily open your eyes, slowly adjusting to the light.

You looked over towards Sebastian, half of his tail was hanging off of the king sized bed.

"Sebby, wake up." You gently shook him. Unlike all of the other times, he woke up relatively quickly.

"M... Morning." His eyes burned as the light shone across his face, but he eventually got used to it.

Sebastian's sleepy voice was one of those things that you wanted to record and play forever, you had the chance to, but it's much better to hear it in person.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Very well." He yawned, his ear fins momentarily wiggling.

"Today's our last day, we better start getting up."

"Right... behind you." His voice trailed off, small snores instead replacing the quietness.

"Wow, you're hopeless, Seb." You pressed a kiss to his forehead, leaving the room quietly.

A quiet morning, it was odd. You missed Sebastian, but you also wanted to let him sleep. He spent only five hours sleeping in Hadal Blacksite, because of his shop, so it felt appropriate to let him rest longer.

The morning was spent gathering both your items and belongings alongside his.

You also tidied up the shelter, base, whatever you wanted to call it.

Noon rolled around, armored men would arrive in around thirty minutes.

You decided to go back to the living quarters you shared with Sebastian, going back into bed, and holding him close.

Even in his peaceful sleep, he could feel the warmth radiating from your body. He purred softly, nuzzling his face into your neck.

You stared at the ceiling, nervousness and excitement filled your entire being.

Everything could either go horribly wrong, or extremely well. It was all a matter of time.

A soft buzz woke the both of you up, you hadn't even realized you fell asleep.

You sleepily grabbed the phone, answering it. "Hello?"

"We are waiting outside. Be down in five minutes, please." With that, he hung up.

"We better hurry..." You groggily mumbled, sitting up and forcing your body up.

Sebastian followed you down, grabbing his designated bags and holstering them onto his tail.

You slung your bag over your shoulder, holding the briefcase, but then immediately regretting it as it was heavier than you anticipated. "Seeeeb, please carry it?"

"You poor thing." He teased, grabbing the briefcase and easily carrying it.

The two of you rushed out, being met with an armored vehicle alongside two men.

"Come." They opened both doors to the back of the van, stopping you. "This will be for him, you will be seated in the front."

"O... Oh." You glanced at Sebastian, only to see him nod. You frowned slightly, but hid it to the best of your ability.

As soon as Sebastian's tail curled up, they shut the doors, leading you to the front.

You were sat in between the two men, a little cramped, if you must say...

"Any address in particular you want to go to?"

"Yes, I want to go to ______"

"Understood. Starting route." They input your mother's address, it would take roughly 2 hours until you arrived.

Your stomach churned, full of uncertainty.

You decided to give her a call.

"Hello?"

"Hi, mom. I'm on my way right now."

"That's... Okay. I'll see you, honey."

"We'll enter through the garage. Please don't be too startled when you see him."

"Who?"

"You'll see."

"Okay then. I love you."

"I love you, too."

Your eyes shut, not wanting to be awake for the ride there, as it was uncomfortable.

The man on your right shook you gently. "We will arrive shortly."

You nodded, rubbing your eyes until the initial blurriness was gone.

You recognized the area, your heart fluttering in excitement. You couldn't contain your smile.

As you approached your mom's home, your hands began to tremble. This was really it.

The driver pulled into the driveway, the garage opened painstakingly slow.

There. Your mother stood. In the flesh.

Finally, the men parked the car, heading to the back of the van.

You hurriedly got out of the car, looking at your mom. "M... Mom." Your voice cracked, tears spilling like a fountain.

She said nothing, only holding her arms open. You rushed into them, breaking down as soon as you felt her body press against yours. "I missed you so much, I was—" She smiled, tears falling down her face slowly. "I know."

The guarded men came into her view, alongside a giant, unnecessarily scary, handsome snake hybrid fish.

Her body trembled as her hold on you tightened. "W—W..."

"Mom, it's okay. This is what I was referencing... I think it would be easier to start from... the start?" You awkwardly smiled at her, untangling yourself from her grip and heading to Sebastian.

It looked like your mom had seen a ghost, her mouth was agape, ready to scream.

The conversation was long and awkward. How he used a normal human before being falsely accused, just like you, but he was experimented on.

Recalling it made him emotional, so he just handed your mom his file for her to skim over.

This made her sympathetic, but she wasn't fully comfortable with Sebastian.

You never brought up your weird 'immortality' thing, but you recapped all that happened while you were gone.

Your relationship with Sebastian. That was the hardest bomb to drop on her.

She almost thought this was a joke, a dream, even.

But after seeing your hand interlocked with his, it finally clicked.

Her child was in love with some... monster?

"Oh... Uh. I don't know how to feel. I'm happy that you found love... but, a...?"

You sheepishly nodded, your face burning out of embarrassment.

"I... I guess I can accept it."

You and Sebastian smiled, something that your mom found adorable in a sense.

Your mom helped you and Sebastian, letting you stay for as long as you two needed.

Sebastian had essentially taken over the kitchen, and he particularly enjoyed sleeping in the garage since it was nice and big.

You had finally gotten access to the bank account, and when you checked the total amount, you were astonished. You've never seen such a high number before, especially for a (previously) broke college student before everything that happened.

You could live comfortably off of the money for a long time, maybe for your life if you spent it wisely. But, you wanted to work, oddly enough.

Sebastian was scrolling on the personal computer that you and him shared, browsing houses until he found one he liked.

It was close by your mom's house, and it was large. Not to mention secluded. The nearest estate was a few miles away.

Large enough for two families.

Would you even have a valid excuse to buy it? Maybe a real estate agent wouldn't question...

"I mean. It's perfect, so..."

It was like the heavens heard your prayers.

And just like that, the appointment to visit the house was booked. You went alone, obviously.

It was expensive, sure, but that didn't matter. If it fit Sebastian, then you'd be willing to spend any amount of money for it.

You paid for the house in full, the deal was closed, and now you owned your first property, fun!

Sebastian had to be transported secretly, so you had to rent a van.

You dropped him off, "will you be okay for an hour?"

"Yeah, sure. Just... be quick, please?"

"Of course, Seb." He pulled you in for a quick hug before you departed.

He began exploring. The lower floor was decent, he could move around freely.

The backyard was massive, and gated, which was perfect, since he enjoyed stargazing with you.

The basement was big enough to serve as a room for Sebastian, and if you wanted, for you, too.

The rest of the rooms upstairs and downstairs would fill themselves up... somehow.

You had successfully landed a job as an entry level audio engineer with flexible hours, perfect since you wanted to maximize your time with Sebastian.

You briefly remembered the both of your ring sizes, as you two compared them.

Your excuse was that you wanted to see how big his fingers were... When in reality, you wanted to get him a ring. A golden ring. Even if you can't legally be married, the sentiment still stood.

After work ended, you rushed to a jewelers shop to pick up the custom ordered rings you had purchased a month ago.

"[Name], right? Your order is here, nice and packaged!" The cheerful worker spoke, placing two neat, tidy, and simple boxe on the glass table.

You walked to the counter, opening both of them. One was extremely large, and one was small in comparison; yours.

You smiled. "I appreciate it, thank you, dearly." You placed the small velvet boxes into an unused slot in your bag.

You hid the worker farewell, rushing to your car, and driving back home.

Over the span of the month that you lived with Sebastian in your new home, it had become a mess of your personality mixed with his.

His room, or, the basement, was filled with all sorts of junk. Metallica posters, different amps that lie next to electric guitars, and his favorite; cat pictures.

He had grown particularly fond of those silly cat memes you would find on YouTube or other media, but, he thought it was hilarious, especially in low quality.

He had gotten a printer for the sole purpose of printing out those dumb pictures and taping them next to his band posters.

Now. He had asked for your mother's blessing in advance. He wanted to marry you, or, at least, have the sentiment be there.

With a bittersweet smile, she agreed. Saying she's never seen you happier before.

She helped him purchased one, it was simple, but pretty.

Sebastian was nervous. His heart was beating like crazy, and his palms were sweaty.

"We need to talk." It was almost comedic how the both of you said it at the same time.

The two of you sat outside in the backyard, under the stars that you loved so dearly.

Your hand was gripping the box that contained his ring in your bag, while his third arm was in his pocket; holding a small box that had a ring for you.

You two only stared into each other's eyes, both of you too afraid to speak up.

He cleared his throat. "[Name]... I love you. I don't think I can explain it, at all."

He leaned down so that he was eye level with you, his right hand moved to your face, gently caressing your cheek. "My heart is full of you, I never thought I'd be this lucky to be loved by someone like you."

He pulled the box out of his pocket, opening it to reveal the ring. Your eyes immediately teared up.

"[Name], let me..." His words trailed off, noticing how you wouldn't stop sobbing.

"I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—" You interrupted him, pulling him in for a deep kiss.

So much passion and emotion in one small gesture, it felt like your body was on fire.

Sebastian's third hand held the small box firmly while the rest roamed your body.

He pulled away to catch his breath, his eyes half-lidded; cheeks a darker color.

Only then, did you pull out your box that had his ring, opening it for him to see.

No words were exchanged as the both of you put on the rings that the other had bought for each other.

Now, you were finally together, forevermore.

[strongheartneteyam]

I wish I could

Chapter 2

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x female!curvy!human reader

Neteyam is aged up.

CW: lots of fluff, childhood friends to lovers, reader loves na'vi children so much and dreams about being a mom one day, angst, the whole Sully family loves reader (including Neteyam but she doesn't know that yet lol)

Author's note: as this is an Avatar AU, reader doesn't need a mask to breathe Pandora's air and not die. Maybe because she was born there, never left and was adopted by a na'vi woman since she was a really small child, she was gradually exposed to Pandora's environment and some kind of mutation happened, so she can breathe, because her body adapted to survive in the planet without the need of a technological device. Idk if it makes sense at all honestly, but, what the hell, fanfics are supposed to be fun and not make 100% of sense, so... just try to not think too much about it n enjoy ahaha

♡

Chapter 1

♡

"Oh my God, such a cute little thing you are" You said while squeezing Tuk in your arms. Even though she was bigger than you because she was a na'vi child after all, you held her like a human toddler. You loved her so much, as if she was your own child. And she loved you too. She was giggling so happily while you squeezed her tight. She was so fond of you that Neytiri would always leave you to take care of her when she left for a hunt. She trusted you, thought you were a really good kid. And you were known in the tribe for helping na'vi mothers with their children. From babies to pre-teens.

You thought Neytiri to be such a beautiful and wise na'vi woman. You desired to be like her one day. You also wanted to have a big beautiful family like hers but that thought would always soon turn from a happy one to one that filled you with angst and sorrow. You were just a human after all, left to the care of a sweet na'vi lady after your parents died in a battle against the Sky People when they came back to Pandora once again. Those horrible days are over now, thank Eywa. Your biology was so different from the na'vi that you didn't even know if it was possible for you to get pregnant from mating with a na'vi male. There are couples of a na'vi and a human out there but none of them ever tried to conceive a hybrid child. The closer someone got to it was the Sully kids who have na'vi and human blood running in their veins but their father had an Avatar body, not a human one, so, it's technically not the same. Why couldn't you just marry a human guy and have a human child?, you may ask. Well, you never knew how to say it without sounding weird but you never felt attracted to the males of your own species. They just looked so plain and boring next to the na'vi men, so passionate, family-oriented and fearless. And also, you couldn't deny that the way they towered over you and their blue skin that shone in the dark because of their freckles played a big part in your feelings too. Yeah, that will never not sound pervy.

You wished you could just mate with the na'vi you fell in love with, but you didn't even know if Neteyam would ever look at you that way. Your small, soft frame might look weird to him. Specially since you were really curvy and a bit fat even for human standards. But still, you dreamt about his big hands touching your skin and his blue beautiful lips kissing yours, so tenderly. Sometimes you woke up and cried, realizing it was indeed just a dream and you were alone laying in your mat.

The na'vi woman you learned to call "mom", Ao'ite, took you as if you had been born from her womb, she always showed you love and took great care of you. And even though she was a great mother to you and you loved her so very much, you never felt like it was enough. It pained you to say it because it sounded ungrateful and even cruel, but you always wondered what it would be like if your parents hadn't die. You didn't remember them, since you were only 2 years old when the murders happened, but you always thought that if they had raised you, maybe you would feel like you belonged somewhere. You loved Pandora and would always call it your one and only home, felt so connected to the trees, animals and oceans, but you would never be a na'vi girl. You could never tame and have your own Ikran or go through any important and beautiful thing only the na'vi can do. That crushed your heart.

You were so lost in your thoughts and immersed on Tuk's little laughs, in a mix of sweetness and sadness, that you didn't even notice how Neytiri's and Jake's older son was looking at you. Neteyam had a spark in his amber eyes when he looked at you holding his little sister. He thought you looked so beautiful and motherly when you played with her. He thought you'd be a great mother one day. He knew how much you wanted to have a family and he only wishes he could be your mate and give you little na'vi children. The smile that was adorning his lips died a bit and he looked away. He didn't know if you found him a suitable mate or if you were just disgusted by how different and odd he looked compared to humans. It hurt him to think maybe you could never reciprocate his feelings. He has loved you since you guys were little kids and he saw your - then weird to him - appearance. He was puzzled in the beginning but with only an hour playing together with you, running through the forest, just close enough so his grandma wouldn't lose sight of the two of you, he found his little heart beating fast inside his chest. And it wasn't just because he had been running, he realized. It was because he knew that you were the one he was gonna chose to be his mate, to spend the rest of his life with, no matter how different from him you looked. What confused him in the beginning was now the most beautiful sight to behold. And it never changed. 15 years later, when you're now both 20 and not 5 anymore, he still looked at you like you were the Pandora skies at night. So beautiful and enchanting to look at. He could look at you for hours, and sometimes he almost did, while you were sitting somewhere in the middle of the people, when they reunited to have meals together at night. You were close enough for him to be able to look at you but far enough for him to not be noticed and perceived as a creep to you.

One day Jake sat next to his elder son and realized who he was looking at. He told his son you were a great girl and he should try courting you if he liked you. Neteyam was shy in the beginning and even denied he was looking at you but his dad knew him far too well so, seconds after that, Neteyam sighed and told his father that he truly loved you and wanted you to be his mate. Jake smiled. That reminded him of what he felt when he was being taught the na'vi ways by Neytiri and fell in love with her. He was immeasurably happy when he realized she loved him too. He just wants his son to be happy and he was glad he had chosen you. Jake always felt something good coming from you. You were like him when he was still stuck in his human body: you loved the na'vi ways more than the human ways and wanted to be one of them. He just wishes it wasn't so dangerous for you to be transfered to an Avatar body. You had once told him you would try, just so you could feel like you were one of the people. But in Jake's heart you were and would always be one of them, even if you were a tiny human girl. And he knew most na'vi felt the same about you. You were really loved by the people.

Neteyam looked at you again, as you were holding his little sister's hands and she was asking you to let her braid your hair. You smiled and said yes and she smiled even wider and started touching your hair. You had beautiful, soft hair and it would always end up a bit entangled when Tuk would braid it. She was a child and was still learning so her braiding skills were still not on point. But you didn't care. You always let her braid your hair and would sit patiently while she did. And you would wear the braids she would make for days, even if they looked a bit funny. It was so special to you how that precious na'vi child showed so much love towards you. Such an innocent little soul. You wished so hard that one day you could have your own na'vi child braiding your hair. Na'vi babies were the cutest thing you had ever seen. Even though you would look enormous carrying a na'vi baby in your belly (if that could ever happen, in your wildest dreams) and you probably would feel so heavy and bloated, you just knew without a shadow of doubt that you would love that child more than you loved your own life and die for the little being if you needed to. To protect them from any harm.

Little did you know you had a na'vi in front you willing to give you as many na'vi babies as you'd let him. Neteyam loved you so much it hurt. And little did he know you loved him too. And little did you both know that having a hybrid child was actually possible.

•.°☆•.°☆•.°

Sooo... it's my first fanfic in English and it's not my first language so please be gentle with me and forgive me for any mistakes. This story is gonna have more parts written soon. I'm thinking of writing some smut within the story and maybe put some breeding kink coming from Neteyam and his human loving it. What do you guys think? Would you want me to? Tell me in the comments haha Please, like and/or reblog this post if you like it. Love you guys 💙

[aphroditelovesu]

Not a request I just wanna hear your thoughts on it, but what do you think the dynamic would be with Yan!mom Sansa with her and Ramsay’s daughter?

And she’s a daddies girl through and through.

I think I already talked about this once, but meh 💅🏻 I'm always willing to talk about concepts and yan!got 👀

Sansa would have strong feelings towards her daughter. She doesn't blame her for what she suffered at Ransay's hand, no, her bby isn't to blame for anything. The only one to blame was Ramsay. Sansa sees her daughter as a breath of fresh air, the answer amid an abyss of pain and loneliness.

She always wanted to be a mother and although the circumstances and the way her baby was conceived are not ideal, she still loves you. With everything in her.

You are her salvation in the midst of so much pain, so much suffering that she went through. Having seen her father beheaded, her family murdered, being forced to marry Ramsay. Sansa would be on the verge of despair, but then she found out about her pregnancy and she was a little happier.

Maybe not as much as expected from a woman who has just discovered she is pregnant, but a small hope rose in Stark's chest. And when you were born, Sansa cried with happiness.

Sansa is a very protective and even strict mother, she has been through a lot of bad things and she doesn't want you to go through the least. No, she would rather commit the most heinous crime than allow you to go through the same things she went through.

She loves you with everything in her, she would give and do anything for you. She would pamper you unconditionally, but she would always have a touch of reality, she would tell you how cruel and dangerous the world is, how you should always stay by her side. Basically being a bit of Disney's Gothel.

She hates Ramsay with all her might and if you were attached to him, may the gods be good! Sansa doesn't want you to have anything to do with Ramsay, she wants you as far away from him as possible.

Ramsay, on the other hand, wants to have more contact with you. You are his daughter, his legitimate daughter, and he has a greater right to you than Sansa, according to the laws of Westeros. He loves you, in his own way, but he does and only wants what's best for you. And what's best for you is to stay with him.

He would be a huge hypocrite, wanting to protect you from people like him, even worse than him. You are the apple of his eye, so precious and so perfect. Ramsay has to take care of you.

There would definitely be a more serious fight between these two for you. The Battle of the Bastards would not only be about reclaiming Winterfell from the Boltons and avenging the Red Wedding, but it would also be for you. Especially if you were with Ramsay during this time.

Now I want to write about it 😟🥺😭

~ Lady L

[bellofthemeadow]

Dawn Ends the Night - Chapter 3

Aemond Targaryen x FemReader (Dayne)

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Rating: M for Mature (18 + no minors allowed)

Word Count: 4.7K

Warning: All warnings on the Series Masterlist, will update if necessary (Re-iterating, no minors allowed! Thank you)

Chapter Summary: The aftermath of the attack sees Prince Aemond wrestle with new feelings.

Notes: Hello everyone, I hope you are all enjoying this chaotic posting schedule just as much as I am!!! I am back with a new chapter, a little window into Aemond's very messy mind. That man is a softboy at heart, he just needs like 20 years of therapy. RN its the beginning of a slight "obsession" as our boy for the first is feeling... something that is not murder, or hatred, or the need to burn everything with Vhagar. So yeah.

Like always thank you to everyone who reblogged and commented I love interacting with y'all and I really hope that you enjoy this chapter 💜💜💜

Taglist: @duds31 , @snh96, @lol-im-done, @heavenly1927, @whimsywilde , @queen-123s-posts

Through your Eyes

In the silence of his bedchamber, Aemond's pulse raced like the chained dragons lagering in the dragon pit, its beat echoing from the cavern of his chest to the very tips of his fingers, awakening the primal blood-rage that slept within his Targaryen blood. The air around him trembled with his ragged breaths, each one a stormy gust tearing through the otherwise stillness of the room. Alone, he wrestled with his armor, the leather stained with the day's deadly encounter. He would need to get the leather treated so the blood wouldn’t leave its reddish mark, Aemond thought with annoyance.  His hands, though shaking with a fury he struggled to contain, methodically peeled away each layer, dismissing the need for a manservant's aid. This was his ritual of solitude, after a lost fight in the yard with Ser Criston, or an annoying dinner with Aegon, Aemond needed to take a moment to confront the tempest within, a moment to try and tame the dragon. 

“My thanks for saving us” your sweet words echoed in Aemond’s brain like the hymns his mother had once insisted he memorize, trapped in his mind – relentless in their grab for his undivided attention. Although he had just met you earlier (had it only been 3 hours?) each detail was etched into his memory with unnerving clarity —the putrid stench of Flea Bottom that now seemed to permeate his very being and clung all the way to his smallclothes, the satisfying melody of the guard's screams echoes loud as he replays  the moment he severed the man's hand from his foul body; an act of true dragon-justice.  

 Your eyes. 

Those eyes, captivating and raw, rimmed with red, their watery sheen reflecting a tumult of fury and fear. It was a look Aemond rarely witnessed in others, but they were a mirror to the emotions he often grappled with in his daily solitude. Staring into his own reflection, he was accustomed to seeing the same intensity in his sole eye, the other a remnant of his past, a void where fear once dwelled. Now, that fear was often overshadowed by a simmering fury, a relentless fire that had become his constant companion. Yet, in your gaze, he saw the fear and anger, a young bird still scared of an unknown, cruel world – but oh so angry and unwilling to get yourself drag down by its cruelty.  

Since coming back to the keep after he had settled the matter at the market, Aemond’s mind was inexorably drawn back to the market, to the moment he first laid eyes on you. He had not needed anyone to point you out; he knew who you were from the second he saw you, holding that little boy who was clinging onto you like the barnacles that littered the rocks in blackwater bay.  

Seeing you so small yet standing so tall in the shadow of the guard’s golden cloak, he had only seen the resolve and desire to protect; for Aemond, it was like a visceral pull that transcended mere sight that had drawn him to you, like he was being pulled with a thight string attached to his heart.And in the dirt of Flea Bottom, you had stood cloaked in a gown of gauzy lilac in a style of dress he had never seen at court. The sheerness of the sleeves and the plunge of the loose bodice defied the strict, colorless conventions of the court and in a way that would surely raise his mother's brow in disapproval. But Aemond did not care for what was proper, as when he freed the man’s body from its hand, he only longed to take you in his arms, to press the silky fabric of your gown, under which he knew luscious curves hid, between his fingertips.  

Aemond closed his eyes trying to imagine what you would feel like in his arms, he could almost feel it if he concentrated enough - were he a bold man, Aemond would have tugged on the fabric of your dress to bring you closer to him, to hold you tight. Not for unseemly reasons as you were still his betrothed, a lady of noble birth at that, and he was no Aegon. It was hard to admit it to himself, but all he wanted was to inhale the sweet citrusy scent he had caught when you had tied the purple scrap of silk to his bicep.  

Aemond unwound the fabric from his arm with a tenderness that echoed the way his mother handled her most precious emerald necklace, an heirloom passed down from his grandmother. She cherished it so deeply that she allowed only herself to touch or clean it, guarding it like a dragon hoarding its treasure. But to Aemond, this simple piece of purple cloth was infinitely more valuable than any gems or riches that lay in the royal vault; it was the only tangible thread linking him to you. Through this favor, you were his and he was yours, bonded through blood and silk. He hoped one day he could shower you in trinkets; ruby-red necklaces, perhaps paired with a green samite gown, or freshwater pearls jewelery ; he had heard that Riverrun made amazing hairnet with them  –Aemond could not help but smile at the thought of you outfitted with tokens from him, all would know that you belonged to him.  

Aemond let the fabric dance lightly between his fingertips and bringing the scarf closer, he tentatively pressed it against his nose, inhaling deeply. The fragrance was faint, a hint of your presence as if you had only briefly held the fabric in your grasp. Frustration flickered within him as he sought more of your scent, breathing in with an intensity born of deep longing and desire. Aemond was no stranger to yearning; his life was a testament to insatiable hunger - for recognition, for greatness, for respect, and for the Iron Throne. His brother, with his lecherous appetite and penchant for debauchery, and his older sister who is always entangled in a web of deceit with her brood of Strong bastards, were both underserving of what should have been rightfully Aemond.  

Yet, as he held the fabric close to his face, Aemond felt his greed transform from ugly and covetous to an all-encompassing desire to protect and care. He yearned not for accolades or crowns, but for the intimacy of your existence in his arms. Indeed, Aemond was a greedy man, and at that moment, he longed to truly have you, to have your scent permeate his skin. The mere thought of burying his face in your hair, drawing in the essence of your being, became a need that tugged at his very core. He almost scoffed at his thoughts, to think that the dragonrider of Vhagar would be reduced to a puddle of quivering emotions! If, when his mother first informed him of his betrothal, Aegon had told him that in barely a moon's turn he would desire nothing more than the simple pleasure of his betrothed's closeness, to breathe in the sweet aroma, he would have throttled his idiot brother. But you had ensnared him – a simple instant in your presence, a look from your beautiful eyes and he was yours. What a mess he was.  

Closing his eyes, Aemond did his best to recall the delicate touch of your hands as they had wrapped the fabric around his arm. The feeling of your delicate fingers resonated deep within him, intimate and gentle, unlike any he had ever experienced. The soft pressure of your fingers against his skin, the careful way you secured the scarf, it all felt like a silent promise, I shall care for you, my lord husbands. Words Aemond yearned to hear falling from your plush lips.  

Under the tender scrutiny of your eyes, Aemond felt a man transformed; Gone was the bitter sting of being known as 'Aemond the Dragonless' or 'Aemond-who-sends-the-maids-crying.' Instead, he felt seen as who he should have been, had fate not cruelly snatched away his eye – a true dragon prince, deserving of admiration and respect. Deserving of a crown, even if his weak father refused to admit it.  

"Prince Aemond!" The call from Ser Criston echoed forcefully through the door, breaking the stillness of the chamber and brought Aemond from his musings. Huffing, Aemond groaned in displeasure, he could understand now why Aegon stopped his sword training - Ser Criston did have the worst of timing. Maybe if he held his breath, Ser Criston would go away. He waited a minute, but the pounding restarted; Of course, he would not go away, the knight was relentless.  

"Just a moment," Aemond replied tersely.  

"The Queen requests your presence immediately, my prince. The matter is urgent, so please make haste my prince" came Ser Criston's insistent voice from the other side. 

Aemond groaned before swiftly splashing cool water across his face, feeling it's refreshing touch against his skin and hastily pulling a tunic over his head, covering his bare chest. There would be time for a proper bath later in the evening, before dinner and the official presentation of his betrothed to court, he reasoned. 

His fingers then reached for the purple silk and carefully he tied it around his wrist, positioning it high enough to remain concealed beneath the folds of his jerkin. Though hidden from view, its presence was a secret comfort, a reminder that he did not dream you – that you existed, in flesh and blood.  

Aemond flung the door open, his movements brusque, revealing the stern figure of Ser Criston Cole. The knight looked annoyed; his lips downturned in displeasure. Without exchanging words, Aemond began striding towards his mother’s solar, the path so familiar that he required no guidance, least of all from his mother’s shadow. 

"The Queen is quite agitated, my prince," Ser Criston broke the silence, his voice echoing down the dimly lit corridor. "She has been informed of the incident at the market and is... less than pleased." 

Aemond's steps faltered, his fists clenching at his sides, he knew it was coming, he just had not imagined it would happen so soon, although it made sense as Alicent had many eyes and ears all over the city. Aemond looked at Ser Criston before rolling his eye, the knight had no doubt babbled the second he had reached his mother's vicinity. The thought of disappointing his mother tightly squeezed at his heart, with gritted teeth, Aemond let out a noncommittal grunt in a thinly veiled effort to maintain composure. Ser Criston, however, persisted. "In light of the current tensions at court, such a public display of violence was... ill-advised, to say the least. For a prince of the realm to act so rashly..." 

Stopping abruptly, the torchlight casting long shadows that danced on the walls, Aemond turned sharply, his eyes a stormy sea of frustration and barely contained rage. "And what would you have had me do, Ser Criston? Stand by while that animal threatened my betrothed with cold steel? Be grateful I let him leave with his life." 

Ser Criston's demeanor remained stoic, attempting to soothe the prince's anger. "These are indeed trying times, my prince. But your betrothed should not have found herself in such a predicament. A lady of her station venturing away from her escort raises questions about her discretion. Such behavior could bring unforeseen troubles to our doorstep..." 

Aemond's voice cut through the air, sharp as Valyrian steel. "I severed the hand that dared harm her. What do you think I would do to the tongues of those who dare tarnish her name?" 

Ser Criston's expression flickered, a brief moment of uncertainty crossing his face. "My prince, I did not mean to imply—" 

"I know exactly what you implied," Aemond interjected, his voice laced with a cold venom. He unconsciously reached to his right arm where he knew your favor was hidden, touching it to bring your bravery to his words. "Remember your place, Ser Criston. As much as you are a valued member of this household and as much as I have always considered you to be a great mentor, I will not tolerate any slight against my betrothed. Is that clear?" 

"Yes, my prince," Ser Criston conceded, the strain in his voice evident. "I shall be more mindful." 

With a curt nod, Aemond turned away and, as he moved through the corridors, passing servants and knights alike, he noticed their efforts to avoid meeting his gaze. It was a dance he had grown accustomed to, yet today, it felt more pronounced as it made the hole beneath the eye-patch throbbed. Trying to keep the pain at bay, he imagined you at his side holding his hand and giving a sweet reassuring smile. It seemed to help somewhat as the pain started subsiding, leaving in its wake only the feeling of emptiness. It would do for now.  

 Reaching the door to the Queen's solar, Aemond paused, collecting his thoughts. He had hoped that by now, his usual icy composure would have resettled over him like a familiar cloak, that the fiery dragon within would have been tamed and subdued. Yet, beneath his skin, a prickling heat lingered, a reminder of the inferno that had coursed through his veins earlier. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself for the encounter ahead. The comforting memory of your grateful eyes had to be set aside, replaced with the bracing reality of his mother's scrutiny. 

Aemond gently rapped on the door and after a brief pause, one of his mother's handmaidens opened the door, allowing him and Ser Criston to enter the room. Inside, Queen Alicent, adorned in a dress of her usual striking green, paced before a large window. Her anxiety was palpable, evidenced by the way she gnawed at her cuticles, some of which were surrounded by tiny specks of blood where she had bitten too deeply.  

Aemond felt a pang of shame tighten in his gut. He was rather unaccustomed to being the source of his mother's disappointment. Throughout his life, she had always shown him a particular kind of attention, especially during his more vulnerable, bullied childhood years when he did not have a dragon to stop people (Aegon) from mocking him. Displeasing Queen Alicent was not something he took lightly. His gaze swept across the room, and Aemond noticed the unusual absence of Otto Hightower, which was odd as the man always had a way to immerse himself in every family discussion. 

Aemond's thoughts were shattered by the sharp rebuke of his mother. "Aemond, for the love of the Seven, what possessed you?" Queen Alicent's voice might have sounded stern and strict to the uneased ear, but Aemond could hear a pinch of desperation. "To attack and dismember a gold cloak in full view of the public. Do you realize the talk this will incite!?" Her eyes, usually so full of maternal warmth reserved for him, now bore into him with a sternness that made him inwardly flinch. 

The smoldering embers of Aemond's anger flared up once more, and he met his mother's gaze with his own steely look – the one that made grown man shudder. "Mother, that man was a disgrace to his cloak. He was assaulting the woman who is to be my wife, threatening her life. He was a beast, unworthy of his position and of the gold on his back. By intervening, I not only did what was necessary to protect my intended, but I restored the name of the King in the eyes of the people of King’s Landing. I will not apologize for my actions as I was under the impression that Lady Dayne, being betrothed to a prince, would be under the protection of our house. It seems I was mistaken. Perhaps I should have allowed her to be stripped naked and beaten for all of Flea bottom to see, would this have been more appropriate?!" 

Queen Alicent, her fingers once again finding their way to her mouth, bit her nails nervously. With a weary sigh, she approached Aemond, her hands reaching out to gently grasp his arms. "Aemond, you misunderstand my concern," she began, her voice tinged with fatigue. "Your actions in defending your betrothed were commendable, but the manner in which you executed them... it is the brutality of it that troubles me. Such a display of violence and cruelty, it's not befitting a prince of your stature." 

Aemond's response came with a touch of bitterness, "Mother, the people of King’s Landing have always viewed me as a monster. What I did today is likely mild in comparison to what they all believe me capable of. And frankly, the man got off lightly. Had it been solely up to me, I would have fed him to Vhagar without a second thought." 

Queen Alicent's sigh was heavy. "Aemond, please," she implored. "I understand your urge to protect your future wife, but you have not even properly met her, your reaction was..." 

"You understand nothing," Aemond interjected sharply, his voice rising with indignation. "My name is Aemond Targaryen! NOT Aemond Hightower and I will uphold the words of my house, 'Fire and Blood,' in dealing with any who threaten us. And that includes Lady Dayne, from the moment Ggrandfather arranged for our betrothal. " 

Alicent's expression turned grave, her gaze unyielding "Is that truly your desire, Aemond? To be remembered as another Maegor the Cruel? To walk the same dark path as your uncle, the rogue that all the nobility of the realm scorns? What legacy do you wish to leave – Aemond the Monstrous? Aemond the Brutal?" 

Aemond winced upon his mother's words – Aemond the monstruous? A bitter retort escaped his lips, "Perhaps I do want that. Perhaps if they called me 'Aemond the Cruel' openly as they all think it, my dear older sister would reconsider herself, parading her bastards as if they were legitimate heirs, worthy of the throne." 

Queen Alicent took a deep, steadying breath, her eyes closing momentarily in a silent plea for patience. She released Aemond's arms, turning away from him, her posture one of weary resignation. "I only wish that you would remember the lessons of mercy taught by the Mother," she said softly. "I understand your anger, Aemond, but you must see that there are alternatives to your actions. Violence, war, death – these are not the sole answers to all our difficulties." 

Aemond felt sour upon his mother’s words, had she always been so blind? "And what would be the 'appropriate' answer, mother, when Rhaenyra learns of your plans with Grandfather? When she discovers your intention to crown Aegon over her?" 

"Aemond, please," Alicent implored, but he pressed on relentlessly. 

"Do you truly believe she will simply just accept it? Do you not see that war and violence are already at our doorstep? Is this not why you arranged my marriage to Lady Dayne – to secure Dorne's support when conflict inevitably breaks out? Consider how our position would weaken if I had allowed the first Dornish lady on our soil since the conquest to be abused on the streets of King's Landing. Prince Quoren might have renounced our alliance entirely. And then what, Mother? Whom would you have me marry? A distant Beesbury cousin? Perhaps some lesser Velaryon to challenge Lord Corlys? What would your grand strategy be, mother?" 

Alicent remained silent, her figure still and composed, even as the tension in the room thickened. Aemond felt like a snarling dragon, spewing fire at the calm and poised figure of his mother – but a dragon could burn down a tower if needed. From his vantage point in the corner, Ser Criston, who had been observing the exchange in silence, finally spoke up, his voice stern. "Prince or not, you will show the proper respect when addressing the Queen." 

Alicent's voice was calm, final. "It is alright, Ser Criston. My son is evidently still distressed from today's events. You may leave us, Aemond." She did not turn back to look at Aemond, her gaze fixed somewhere distant. 

"Mother," Aemond uttered, the anger was still there, but a deep feeling of regret was starting to tightnened in his troath – he had never spoken to his mother this. Had always revered her as the woman who had always loved him, would always love and cherish him, eyes or no eyes. The woman who had taken his side on Driftmark, who had been willing to draw blood for him. So why was he so angry? Because you know of another woman who would have taken your side on Driftmark now, a smooth voice whispered in his mind. He could imagine Lady Dayne, except instead of the little street urchin clinging to you, it was him – holding you as you were soothing him and urling insults to the Strong. Nevertheless, although Aemond knew he had won the argument, the victory was hollow and left a bitter taste in his mouth.  

As Aemond stormed out of his mother's solar, the door slammed shut with a force that was quite petulant and wholly unbefitting of his princely demeanor. The urge to visit Vhagar tugged at him; her presence, the soothing texture of her scales, and the smoldering depths of her yellow eyes often brought him solace in tumultuous times. Soaring through the skies on her back, he found unparalleled freedom, a sense of true self that grounded him amidst the chaos of court life. But today, his steps wavered, his usual path to where Vhagar rested, momentarily forgotten. 

A different impulse guided him instead, steering his course through the corridors of the castle. He caught sight of a maid, her steps quick and purposeful towards the kitchens. In a swift motion, Aemond reached out, his hand gently but firmly grasping her arm. His voice, though laced with the lingering storm of his recent encounter, carried a softer edge. "Tell me, where in the castle is the Dayne retinue lodging?" 

The maid, attempting to maintain her composure, did everything to avoid the intense gaze of his solitary eye, stuttered her reply. "In... the west wing, my prince," she managed, her voice barely above a whisper. With a nod of acknowledgement, Aemond released her, his mind now set on a new destination. 

Navigating the labyrinth of corridors towards the West wing, Prince Aemond was in a whirlwind as each step he took was shadowed by uncertainty - would you be there in your quarters? And if so, would you welcome his presence? He wondered if the radiant spark that had lit your eyes earlier, the one that had captivated him so completely, would still shine when faced with him alone. Doubt nagged at him, whispering questions of whether you might prefer solitude over his company. He shook his head, none of it mattered; the second-guessing, the fear. He needed to see you, to lay eyes on you and ensure your well-being. These thoughts propelled him towards your quarters, and he felt more like a dragon than ever before, like a great beast tracking its prey before feasting – unrelenting, with a singular purpose. You.  

As Prince Aemond neared the West wing, he was met with a contingent of guards adorned with the Dayne sigil – a white fallen star against a field of lilac. A frown marred his features. Where had these men been when you needed them most? "I wish to see my betrothed." Aemond’s tone left no place for arguments. 

However, one of the guards, an older man with a graying beard and sharp brown eyes, appeared unmoved by Aemond's royal status and instead eyed the prince distrustfully. "The lady is currently resting after a taxing day... My prince" The last part was definitely added as an afterthought. 

Bastard, Aemond thought angrily, did he not know he was speaking to a prince? How dare this commoner (who had let harm come to you) come between him and his need to see you! Aemond's sneer was barely concealed. "I'm well aware of her trying day, as I was present," he retorted, trying to quell the anger that pulsed in his veins. "Is it a Dornish custom then, that betrothed couples cannot converse? Especially after one of the party saved the other. Quite a peculiar custom if you ask me." 

Another younger guard grumbled “Not as much as fucking your siblings...” If Aemond was not so consumed with thoughts of you, he would have had whipped this guard for the insolence.  

The older guard's expression soured further, his eyes narrowing. "Given today’s events, where one of your men assaulted our lady, you'll understand my prince,” definitely a sneer” “Our caution.”  

"And the man responsible has been dealt with," Aemond countered firmly, his gaze unwavering. 

The standoff continued for a tense moment before the older guard relented under Aemond's intense gaze. For once, Aemond was quite satisfied that his one eye could make even the fiercest of men grow uncomfortable, it helped to get his bidding done. The guard led the prince to a corner door and knocked briskly. "My lady, Prince Aemond is here to see you," he announced. 

The response came in the form of your familiar, melodious voice, which had haunted Aemond's thoughts throughout the day. "Come in!" you called out, and Aemond felt a mixture of relief and apprehension as he prepared to enter. 

Upon opening the room, Aemond was met with a scene quite unexpected. There you were, center stage in the spacious chamber, having exchanged your earlier attire for a strikingly different ensemble. You were adorned in a long, elegant purple tunic with short sleeves that left your arms gracefully exposed. Underneath, a pair of voluminous white breeches reached down to your calves, leaving the lower parts of your legs exposed. Aemond gulped loudly at the sight of you, he had never seen a young lady dressed in such a manner. Were all Dornish ladies such beautiful women, who scorned proper attire? Were all Dornish ladies so... enticing? No, Aemond thought decidedly, you must be one of a kind, a lone bright star in the otherwise dark skies of his life.  

Yet, it was the action before him that truly caught him off guard. You were in the midst of a tussle with the same young boy from earlier - Daven, was it? You were attempting to apply soap to his hair, a task he seemed to be resisting with all the vigor a 5-year-old boy could muster. On the large bed nearby, another boy of a similar age sat, munching on a bright red apple, his eyes wide with fascination as he observed the struggle. 

“My Lady... Am I... Bothering you? Aemond muttered, at a lost feeling like he might be intruding on such a strange, yet merry moment.”  

Your smile bloomed like a desert rose at dawn, eyes sparkling with the kind of joy that one might associate with discovering a long-lost treasure, or seeing a long-lost friend... Or lover. Gently, you shifted the still-pouting boy in your arms to face Aemond, calling to him with a warmth that melted the icy barriers around the prince's heart. "Look, Davos! Our brave prince who saved us earlier has come to see us!" The boy, Davos, offered a shy smile and a timid wave, his earlier resistance forgotten in the presence of his hero. 

Aemond felt an unfamiliar flush of warmth spread across his cheeks under your gaze, filled with gratitude and something deeper, something that seemed to stir the very core of his being. The usual fire that raged within him, driving his every ambition and desire, seemed to simmer down into a comforting warmth, a feeling he couldn't quite place but didn't wish to escape. 

His heart pounding a rapid rhythm, Aemond offered a slight bow. "Might I be of assistance, my Lady?" 

Your response came with an infectious beam. "Another pair of hands would be most welcome." 

Positioning himself to be of help, Aemond muttered, "Guide me to where I can be most useful, my Lady." 

With a soft and tender smile, you replied, "I believe, my prince, that you are perfect just where you are." 

Perfect right where he is?  

Aemond would never leave your side, nothing would ever tear from you and you from him. The Gods had always scorned him since his childhood, this was payment. His due. You were his and he was yours from this day until the end of his days.  

Next chapter

[gojoidyll]

Infinity

Yandere ! Gojo Satoru x Female ! Reader

Part 4 | my life

Warnings | death , gojo starts to get a bit delusional , yandere gojo , gojo being salty about y/n's new life , mentions of su!c!de by poison , murder , grammatical errors , etc.

Notes | this fic will be using she/her pronouns for y/n. Also this is a reincarnation fic, so Gojo's name will not be "Satoru" in this part. And please let me know if you want to be in a taglist for this series !! ^-^

Summary | And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you and I'd choose you.

Infinity Masterlist

year 1120 AD

GOJO SHIRO, at the somewhat middle age of 30, couldn't believe his eyes. His six eyes, dulled a bit due to age, seemed to ignite with a sort of happiness as he looked down at a newborn that his dear daughter wanted him to meet. (As he got older, he was practically forced to marry someone from the clan elders despite him being the lord of the land and head of the clan now. He honestly didn't want to as he saw it as him betraying y/n, but alas, life must go on for the Gojo clan.)

"Her name is Y/n Gojo, isn't she cute?"

Life sure was cruel. Here he was still not dead from his second life and here y/n was already in her third, her second reincarnation. A sort of dark pit settled within him. A seed of pure rage entangled him and took root.

"She is cute," he muttered, but she wasn't supposed to start her second life without me. And she's a Gojo no less, so even if I reincarnated we wouldn't be able to be married together, we would be related to each other for God's sake!

He had to right the wrong.

So, he made a quick decision. A just decision.

"However, she's been cursed."

His daughter paled, "w- what?! Cursed?! But father-"

He held up his hand as y/n laid gently in his arms, "you know the rules as much as I do. That husband must of done something to you during childbirth, or when she was being conceived. You know better than anyone else that the Gojo clan has enemies lurking in the shadows."

"Minako would never hurt her! He loves our little girl!"

"And how can you be sure? You nor anyone else has the six eyes, you nor anyone else can see what I see, and this child is cursed. She'll bring the Gojo clan to ruin if she exists a second longer."

"But father-"

"Enough! If you do not have the will to end this cursed child's life, then I will take it upon myself."

"You can't father! You can't! There must be another way! We can save her!"

His daughter was in hysterics. All she wanted was for her father to finally meet her baby little girl. If she knew this was going to happen, then she would of run away with y/n and Minako in tow.

Urumei was summoned a moment later and had grabbed a tight hold of Gojo's daughter.

"Take her outside while I handle this."

"Of course, my lord."

His daughter could only kick and scream in Urumei's grip. Her wails being heard outside the door and down the hall as Gojo was left with y/n. His six eyes now focused onto the small baby in his arms.

"You're quite cruel for doing this to me, but don't worry y/n, my precious little y/n. I know you didn't have control over where you were born and who you were born too. But you must understand .. if I die and am reincarnated and you're not there, then how will I live? You're my world. And I'm your moon. You said so yourself. We made a deal. Its only fair that we be reincarnated at the same time so that we're together."

He activated hollow purple. And, for a moment, he was glad that she was still asleep. He doesn't think he would be able to go through with it if she were awake, and just as he was about to go through with it. She had opened her eyes. They were a brilliant, bright (color) and his breath faltered. Looking up at him, she smiled and giggled and held out her chubby, small hands up to him. Her fingers making grabbing motions.

He deactivated hollow purple and decided to just come up with the excuse to raise her himself and to "make sure she wasn't cursed anymore and didn't hurt anyone within the clan."

His daughter, when she was brought back in, could only weep and smile at the good news, grateful to her father for not killing her baby. Granted, since y/n was still "cursed" as she and everyone else within the clan were told to believe, then it meant she wouldn't be able to take care of her daughter and instead her father would look after her instead. But she was still happy nonetheless.

And that was how life went for the next fourteen years.

"Father, father, father!"

Now at the age of 44, Shiro could be found carrying y/n around on his back as she would point at the different food stalls, wanting to try all the different kinds of sweets they had.

Now, Shiro was, in fact, her grandfather of course, but he decided to blur the lines a bit on that since he was still young and because his daughter and her husband had passed away tragically in a cursed spirit attack when y/n was only two years old. Many found it odd how he didn't seem phased over their deaths but reckoned that he just needed to focus on caring for his newly made daughter instead.

And y/n simply didn't need to know. Besides, as he said, he was still relatively young so what was the harm in posing as her father figure instead? (Not to mention that he erased anything and everything related to his previous daughter and wife. Hell, he couldn't even remember their names!)

"You want to try that next?"

"Yes, please!"

Much to Shiro's delight, despite living under his doting care she still turned out the same as in her first two lives. Cute, shy, and super adorable. However, she was a bit chubby but that was only because he absolutely refused to see her in a sickly state as she was seen previously in her other lives. And it was nice seeing her so happy. He doesn't remember ever being so happy before with her first two families. Granted, in her second life her mother there was nice but y/n didn't have a father and her mother was always working. Not to mention those bullies were- he seethed a little, that's right. To y/n, this was the only life she lived, but to Gojo he was still in the life where those damn brats killed her.

He tried to clear his mind and focus on y/n instead.

The day went on and soon night fell which meant their usual routine. Y/n would wash up and immediately get dressed in her night clothes and come into his room. He would already be in bed and would pat the spot next to him as she would happily clamber in next to him.

But just before she would fall asleep, he would tap her on the nose.

"Forgetting something?"

She giggled a little as she turned towards him and lifted her head forward. Her lips gently pressing against his cheek as she gave him a tiny goodnight kiss.

"Goodnight, father! I love you!"

He kissed her forehead in return, and hugged her close, "goodnight my sweet angel."

And as she would fall into a deep sleep, he would find himself in discomfort. This was not the life he wanted with her. Not at all.

So he would find himself reaching into the cupboard next to his nightstand. His eyes glinting into the dark when he would find a dark vile. In it was a heavy poison. He knew what he had to do.

Uncorking the lid, he parted y/n's lips and let the liquid slip down her throat.

Now, this wasn't a rash decision, he's actually been thinking of this for quite some time. He couldn't wait any longer to die and to get reincarnated with y/n. He didn't want to be her father figure or even a father to her. He wanted to be her husband. But life was cruel.

It wasn't fair.

not fair

not fair

not fair

not fair

Thats what he always told himself, and he finally went through with it, and making sure that her heart stopped and she was truly dead. He, too, took a swig from the bottle and then promptly tossed the vile out the open window for someone to find while on patrol.

It wasn't fair. He deserved to have y/n as a wife, not a daughter, or as a granddaughter. It only made sense to finally start anew. Besides, she lived a decent life. A decent childhood. He could have killed her as a baby. Oh, he really could have. But he didn't. He let her live.

So, by doing that, he deserves to take that life away too and start again.

He knew they would be reincarnated together this time. Because they didn't end up together. This wasn't their happy ending.

Infinity taglist | @whore-for-hawks @esthelily @huicitawrites @flaming-vulpix

[dual1pa]

the tribute

Warnings: THIS IS SAD, talks about Eddie's death, death in general, quick snippet of eddie dying, crying, trauma, eddie's gf's speech at his funeral, talking about seeing someone die

eddie munson's girlfriend at his funeral

SPOILER ALERT

She sat with her arms folded together while sitting near the front of the church, at times she picked off the black polish that was chipping off her nails.

She was sure her eyes were red from all the crying she had done for the last few days.

-

Seeing the love of her life, the person she thought she'd marry one day. (She knew this cause they talked about it constantly)

"You and I are gonna get hitched one day, babe, I know it," he said while driving with the windows down, breathing in the warm summer air.

She could cry just thinking about it.

She was there when Eddie died. She couldn't describe the pain she felt, like she was being stabbed over and over again by an invisible knife.

She continued to kiss his forehead and repeated that everything was going to be alright - but they both knew it wouldn't be.

He wanted the last thing he saw to be her, and it was.

-

She didn't want to be there - but probably not for the same reason everyone else didn't want to be there - she didn't even think the priest wanted to be there.

Of course, there weren't many, but a few of Eddie's family showed up to mourn the loss.

Most people thought Eddie was a monster, that he was the one who murdered Chrissy - he didn't - it was some monster from another world.

But who could she explain that to? No one listened... or cared.

The only people that knew the truth were seated next to her or behind her.

She sat next to his uncle in the front row, who encouraged her to sit with him, he told her she was family.

When it was her turn, she gently got up from her feet and walked up the stairs, looking at Eddie's casket and a huge picture of the man she loved and tried not to cry.

She looked around at the looks on everyone's faces, her best friends, Nancy and Robin gave her supporting smiles all while Dustin, the kid Eddie was closest to the most, wiped a tear from his eye.

"Uh, hi everyone. I know most of you know who I am but for the past two years, I am, uh was, Eddie's girlfriend. We met when I was a sophomore and he was a junior. It was like we clicked instantly, even though we had different tastes in music, movies, and celebrities, we just... connected. Most people knew Eddaie as Eddie 'The Freak' Munson, but I knew him as Eds. I was the only one that could call him that though, someone in his club, excuse my language father, The Hellfire Club, heard me call Eddie Eds, so he said it and was almost punched in the face. 'My girl can only call me Eds' he said to him. It almost made me laugh so hard that I fell out of my chair."

She had to stop herself from crying, even though she couldn't help it.

She quickly wiped a tear away and continued, "I know most of you think my boyfriend is a monster. he is nothing of the sort. i get faces everywhere I go in this town and I hear what people say about me, 'the monster's girlfriend' and all that. It's not true, if some of you got to know him on a personal level, you would know that. But I didn't come here to convince you anything - I'm here to tell you about my Eds. eddie died a hero, he was looking out for his friends, his family, me, and the world from the unexplainable, the reality no one wants to listen to."

She took a deep breath and read her next sentence, "When Eddie died, I saw it. I wouldn't wish witnessing the death of a loved one on anyone. it's vile, cruel, and not to mention traumatizing. there's no right words on how to explain how i felt watching him die. the man i knew i was going to marry one day."

She grabbed the front of the podium and shielded her face from the crowd so one could see her sobbing, except the priest of course.

He got up and asked her if she wanted to take a break and he would finish what was on her paper.

"No, no. I'm okay. I want to read this," she said.

"Sorry. Uh, yeah, if he would have proposed to me before we finished high school I would have said yes. He made me laugh, cry, angry, happy, heard, and just made me feel special. He stood up for me, he held me when i failed a test that i studied so hard for, made me laugh with his dumb jokes. When I introduced my family, at first they were pretty skeptical of the way he dressed or how he styled his hair, but he eventually won them over and they wanted him over for dinner as much as possible. I'm going to miss all those things about him, I'm going to miss his touch, his laugh, his smile, his kisses."

She looked over to his picture and finished her speech, "I'll miss you my Eds. Rest easy, baby."

She folded up the crumbled-up piece of paper and went back to her seat.

She felt many hands on her back and hand as she got through one of the hardest things she'd ever done.