#I don't have much choice seeing as she's the Devil and all.

[flowersforbucky]

devil's in the backseat

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3.7k

summary/prompt: a night at coney island with your friends turns out much differently than expected.

or getting fucked in front of a mirror

author's note: this is my first halloween fic!! this was so much fun to write. if you've read haunting adeline, then you know exactly what inspired the mirror maze scene! also disclaimer i have never been to coney island so if any of this is inaccurate then just pretend ok it's fiction :))

warnings/tags: smut, 18+ only content, sex in a public setting, mirror sex, oral (female receiving), unprotected p in v, friends to lovers, romanogers makes an appearance! kind of grumpy!reader, protective bucky, random men being creepy, language, reader is afab, she/her pronouns, reader pov, no use of y/n, porn with a little plot, fluff

my masterlist

“I can't fucking believe I let you talk me into wearing this.”

You tug the tight, cherry red colored velvet fabric of the babydoll dress in place for the dozenth time since arriving at Coney Island.

“What? You look hot. Plus, our costumes go great together.”

Natasha's costume mirrors your own - except hers is a pearlescent white and instead of a pitchfork and horns, she dons angel wings and a halo.

“I don't feel hot. I feel cold. It's fifty degrees and the sun hasn't even set yet.” If it wasn't for the black thigh high boots that cover the majority of your legs, you'd be shivering in the chilly late October weather.

“It's not my fault that you put off getting a costume until the last minute and had to pick through what little was left at Spirit Halloween,” she mumbles, passing you one of the cups of apple cider that the cashier hands to her. You gladly accept, sucking down the hot liquid in hopes that it will warm you from the inside.

Her phone dings as the two of you walk towards the rides. “It's Steve,” she informs you as she reads the text message. “They just got here,” she looks back up at you with a smirk on her face and a mischievous gleam in her eye. “Bucky decided to come with them.”

You roll your eyes, suddenly hating your borderline provocative costume even more.

“I thought he was leaving for a job in Denver this evening?”

It's not that you didn't want to see Bucky. It's that you didn't want to see Bucky dressed like this. As if you don't already get flustered around him when you're dressed in normal, everyday clothing. The hem of your dress barely conceals the curve of your ass and your tits are practically spilling over the low neckline.

“Guess it's been postponed,” she shrugs, nudging you with her shoulder.

The two of you turn to look in the opposite direction when a familiar voice calls your names. You see Steve, Sam, and Bucky walking towards you. Steve is dressed as a pirate, eyepatch and all. Sam wears a cowboy costume with an oversized hat, concealing the upper half of his face entirely.

And Bucky? Bucky wears jeans and a navy blue Henley.

Yeah, you're regretting any of your life choices that lead up to this moment.

“Well, well, well,” Sam drawls as he tips his hat back enough to take in yours and Natasha’s outfits. “Look what we have here. An angel and a devil. Have you two already entered the costume contest for best duo or should I go add your names?”

“You wouldn't dare,” you scold him. Natasha just laughs, falling into Steve’s embrace as he plants a kiss to her forehead.

“We should, you know,” Natasha agrees. “I think we'd have a pretty good shot at winning.”

“Yeah, right,” you retort, looking around at some of the more elaborate, creative costumes that many of the strangers around you are sporting. You notice a man and woman dressed as Beetlejuice and Lydia Deetz and know that you and Nat wouldn't stand a chance in a costume contest. “And what about you?” You acknowledge Bucky, your eyes skimming up and down his civilian clothes. “Didn't have time to pull together a costume?”

He smirks, his eyes trailing up your figure for a heated moment before he responds. “I'll have you know that I am in costume, actually.”

Steve and Sam both snort in laughter.

“Oh yeah? And what are you supposed to be, exactly?”

He tugs up the sleeve of his shirt, showing off the shiny vibranium that is his left arm.

“I'm the Winter Soldier,” he says with a smug grin. “Obviously.”

“How creative,” you praise sarcastically.

“Cut me some slack,” he feigns insult. “I was supposed to be halfway to Colorado right now. I didn't have time to pull together anything too cute.” His eyes flicker to your dress and boots at the word cute. If anyone else notices, they say nothing.

“What are we doing just standing around here?” Natasha exclaims, tugging Steve in the direction of the rides and games. “I want to ride every ride and eat funnel cake.”

They race ahead of the rest of you, with Sam close behind, leaving you and Bucky to fall into step beside each other.

“So, why did your mission get postponed?” You ask casually, trying to fight down the nerves that threaten to bubble over every time you're alone with him.

“Beats me,” he shrugs. “Fury didn't give much of an explanation. I got the text as I was loading my bags into the car to head out.”

“That's annoying,” you mumble, swallowing the remnants of your hot apple cider. “I'm sorry,” you tell him with a glance in his direction. “I'm sure it was for a good reason.”

He shrugs. “I'm here, so I can't be too mad about it.”

Before you can overthink exactly what he means by that, you're both brought to a halt when a jolly looking man in a Ghostbusters costume steps directly in front of you, blocking your path.

“This little devil looks like she needs a giant sloth!” He exclaims, gesturing towards the prizes hanging above the balloon darts station next to you.

“Oh, no,” you start. “That’s okay–”

“Come on!” The red-faced vendor insists, looking at Bucky. “Don't you want to win your girl a giant sloth? Perhaps a giant giraffe? If she was mine, I'd be winning her any prize she wants. I'll give you five throws for ten doll–”

“Fine, fine,” Bucky relents, digging into his back pocket for his wallet. You notice a faint hint of pink blooms along the apples of his cheeks, but he doesn't correct the man when he calls you his girl. “You've worn me down,” he sighs as he shoves a crumpled ten dollar bill into the man's hand.

The man accepts the money with a satisfied, toothy grin and hands Bucky five darts.

“If you get three out of the five throws, you can choose a prize from here,” the man gestures towards a section of smaller prizes. “And if you get all five throws, you can choose–”

The man is cut off by the sharp popping sound of a balloon, and then a second, and a third, until all five darts have been impaled on the board in a consecutive line in a matter of seconds.

“She'll take the bunny,” Bucky tells him before he can erase the stunned look off of his face. He points to a large, flop-eared purple bunny hanging from the upper row of prizes.

Unlike the vendor, you aren't shocked by his perfect aim at all. Anyone who knows Bucky would have known that he wouldn't miss a single shot. You are shocked, however, that he chose the bunny without even asking which prize you want.

The man in the Ghostbusters costume grabs the bunny and hands it to you, surprise still etched on his face. He mumbles a quick goodnight before he's moving onto the next people approaching the stand.

“How did you know I'd want the bunny?” You ask Bucky, trying to juggle the stuffed animal, your empty cup of cider, and your pitchfork all in your arms.

“You like bunnies, right? It was an educated guess.” He shrugs, moving through a thick crowd of people away from the game stations. “Here, let me carry it for you,” he offers when he notices the large stuffed animal is obstructing your vision. You hand it over to him and he tucks it underneath his metal arm.

“Thank you,” you tell him, your cheeks heating at the realization that he'd remembered such an inconsequential piece of information about you. You do like bunnies. The cold night air suddenly feels a lot more balmy.

“I'm - uh - I'm going to find a trash can real quick,” you say as you wiggle the empty cup in your hand. Truthfully, you just need a moment to collect yourself.

You begin walking in the opposite direction before he can reply, your eyes scanning the throng of people for a garbage can.

So what if he knows that you like bunnies? It's a pretty trivial fact that probably means nothing. You know that Natasha’s favorite animal is flamingos - because she's your friend. It's normal for friends to know things that their friends like.

Right? Right.

“I like that outfit a whole lot, baby. But I think you'd look even cuter in just the boots and those horns.”

You're so lost in your internal monologue that you don't even notice two men closing in on you as you toss the empty cup into a trash can. Unlike most of the people here tonight, neither of them are in costumes. They stand so close to you that you can smell booze on their breath.

“Oh, fuck off,” you groan as you attempt to walk away, but they've effectively blocked you between their bodies and the large garbage can behind you. Wicked grins grow on their faces as you realize that you can't get by them.

“Look, I don’t have the patience for this tonight. Get out of my fucking way.”

“Or what?” One of them taunts. “You'll use that little pitchfork on us? Jokes on you, because we're into that.”

“What if I used it on you?” A familiar voice comes from behind them. “Would you still like that?”

Before they can even turn around to identify the voice, Bucky is pulling him back by the hood of his sweatshirt and throwing him on the ground with little to no effort. The other one attempts to stumble away as Bucky turns his attention to him.

He still has your bunny clutched in his flesh hand - despite the seriousness of the situation, you have to bite your lip to keep from smirking at the sight. You don't know of anyone who could be quite as intimidating while holding a stuffed purple bunny.

“What about you?” Bucky asks, towering over the guy by half a foot. “You got anything you wanna say?”

“I - no - we didn't know she was with someone,” he half slurs, half stutters out. His gaze flickers to Bucky's vibranium hand. The man on the ground manages to stand back up, following after his friend.

“Now you know,” Bucky calls after them as they quickly hobble away.

“I had that handled, you know,” you tell Bucky with a nod towards your pitchfork. “But thank you, anyway. Really.”

He places a gentle but firm grasp on the top of your arms and begins to tug you in the opposite direction, guiding you through the small crowd that had stopped to witness the altercation.

“I have no doubt about that,” he sighs, releasing his grip on you when the two of you are a reasonable distance away. “But I also don't doubt that you handling it would have drawn even more attention.”

He's right. If he hadn't stepped in, your method of handling it would have been even more dramatic.

“They would have deserved it,” you mumble. “I knew I shouldn't have worn this stupid costume.”

“They definitely would have deserved it,” he agrees. “And your costume isn't stupid. You should be able to wear any costume you like without getting harassed by drunk assholes.”

The two of you approach the ferris wheel as it comes to a slow stop, a couple getting out of one of the cars. You and Bucky flash your wristbands to the operator, who offers to hold your pitchfork for you while you’re on the ride.

“Besides,” he continues as you sit down next to each other in the car, the operator locking the gate in place. “I happen to like your costume. A lot.” He turns his head to you, his gaze trailing from the tops of your thigh high boots and up to the felt horns that adorn your head.

There's a shift in energy as the ferris wheel suddenly comes to life, sending you sliding across the limited space of the metal bench seat and right up against him.

“Oh, yeah?” You tease with your face a few inches from his. Close enough to see your reflection in his irises. “Is that why two different people have implied that I'm yours tonight and you haven't corrected either of them?”

“Your costume had nothing to do with that. I wouldn't have corrected them even if you were dressed as a giant banana,” he says, his tone and face both serious. “Does it bother you that I didn't correct them?”

“No,” you answer automatically - eagerly. You should feel embarrassed, but with the way he's looking at you, and how good it feels to be pressed so snug against him, you can't find it within yourself to care. “I didn't correct them either,” you point out.

The ferris wheel comes to a stop to let new people get on when your cart reaches the peak.

“And why is that?” he asks lowly. If you weren't sitting so close to him, you wouldn't have been able to hear him over the obnoxiously loud carnival music that pours from speakers in between the ferris wheel's carts.

He wraps his metal arm around your shoulders, pulling you further into him.

“Because I liked the sound of it,” you answer honestly. Your voice quivers - from nerves, or from a gust of wind that sways the pod still perching at the top of the wheel.

“Is that right?” he murmurs. He places his flesh hand on the exposed skin of your thigh - just above the top of your boot and just under the hem of your dress. His fingertips rest near the crack between your thighs. Instinctively, you spread your legs apart - not much, but enough for him to smirk at your body's automatic response to his touch.

“You like the sound of being my girl?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I do. Is that okay with you?”

He chuckles, his fingers inching further up your thigh. You spread your legs open further, giving him the go ahead to go as high as he wants. He stops when he reaches the apex of your thighs, just an inch away from the cloth of your panties. He applies pressure with his fingertips, his short nails digging into the sensitive flesh and making you clench your legs around his hand.

“That depends,” he contemplates. “Are you my girl?”

You open your mouth to answer when the sensation of his index finger grazing the fabric that covers your cunt makes you forget how to speak. You sit there with your mouth agape as he hooks a finger into the cotton panties.

He eases a finger through your folds, lubricating it in your slick before adding a second finger and massaging the pads of them over your sensitive clit.

“Feels like you're my girl.”

You become vaguely aware of the fact that the ride is now in motion once more, heading back down to the ground, when Bucky places the stuffed bunny on your lap in an effort to conceal what is happening in the cart that you and him share.

He alternates between slow, languid circles and quick strokes against your clit as the ferris wheel makes its way down and then back up again. You can feel yourself soaking your underwear as the world dizzies around you. You hide your face in Bucky's neck to conceal the pleasure written across your face.

You're seconds away from coming against his fingers, the pressure in your belly building to a climax, when he pulls away and tugs your dress into place. Your gaze snaps up to his, shooting daggers, as the ride comes to a slow stop. He looks back at you with an amused smirk as the operator approaches the cart to unlock the gate.

“Sorry about that, sweetheart,” he tells you in a strained voice as he snatches the bunny back from you. “After you,” he motions with his head as the operator holds the gate open for you.

Stunned and speechless at what just happened, you stumble out of the cart and down the stairs to the ride's exit with Bucky behind you - both of you completely forgetting about your pitchfork. You can't help but snort a laugh at the position of the large stuffed animal - directly over Bucky’s crotch.

“Real discreet,” you tell him, glancing down at the bunny and then back up to the semi-pained expression on his face.

“I have to admit, right now this thing is worth every penny that I spent on it,” he sighs, and then removes one hand from the bunny to place it on your lower back. “Follow me,” he instructs with a smirk.

He guides you through the crowd and you follow him without question, just trying to ignore the wet ache between your legs.

You shoot him a quizzical look when you arrive at the house of mirrors. You haven't been in a mirror maze since you'd gotten lost in one at ten years old.

There's an attendant sitting in a chair outside of the entrance who unenthusiastically greets the two of you. Bucky reaches into his pocket, digging out his wallet for the second time that evening. He pulls out a hundred dollar bill and flashes it at the elderly man smoking a Pall Mall.

“Take this and don't let anyone else in until we come out,” Bucky tells him before dragging you into the attraction. You and the gray haired man both go wide eyed.

“What was that?” you cackle as the door slams to a close behind you. Bucky doesn't answer, just grabs one of your hands in his and begins guiding you through the maze of mirrors as if he's been here a hundred times.

The entire place is lit by bright, neon red lights that only aid in further confusing your sense of direction. Bucky doesn’t seem phased in the slightest, finally coming to a stop after a few minutes of maneuvering through the endless mirrors.

“You never answered me, you know,” he says as he drops your bunny to the floor. “When I asked if you're my girl.” He smirks at you, stepping closer to you and backing you against the mirror behind you.

“You just paid that man a hundred dollars to get me alone,” you jab as you pull him to you by the front of his Henley. “I think it's safe to say that I am.”

He smiles as you pull him down to you, crushing your lips to his. His hands trail down your back until they land where your thighs meet the curve of your ass cheeks. You release months worth of tension into the kiss, sweeping your tongue along the swell of his bottom lip before slipping it into his mouth the second that he parts his lips for you. He groans into the kiss, kneading the globes of your ass with his fingers. You can feel a prominent bulge through his jeans against your stomach.

Adrenaline begins to kick in when he pulls away, looking down at you with lust blown pupils. He sinks to the floor below you, kneeling in front of your cunt as he raises your dress around your waist and tugs your panties down your legs and over your boots. He slips them into his back pocket before hiking one of your legs across his shoulder.

You can already feel your juices leaking down your inner thighs before his mouth makes contact with you. When he does, you lean your head back against the glass behind you in pleasure.

He sucks your clit between his kiss-swollen lips with an obscene pop before running his tongue down your folds. He plunges his tongue inside you and you grind yourself against his face, chasing the release that you were seconds away from on the ferris wheel.

He moans at the taste of you and the vibration has your walls clenching around his tongue. You ride out your orgasm on his face, the neon red lights blurring and spinning around you.

Despite the fact that your legs feel like jelly, you pull him up to you as soon as you're able to form a coherent thought. You clumsily paw at the button of his pants and his zipper, and he shoves both his jeans and boxers down over his ass, just far enough to free his cock.

He places both of his hands just under your armpits and lifts you as you instinctively lock your legs around his hips.

The head of his cock nudges your wet folds, your juices coating his length before he nudges it inside you.

You feel full before he's even halfway in you. Your walls constrict around him and he digs his teeth into his bottom lip as he adjusts to the sensation of you.

“Fuck, that's tight. You're perfect,” he grunts as he sheaths the rest of his length into you. You let out a sound somewhere between a whimper and a gasp.

He has total control as he cradles you between his body and the cold, hard mirror behind you. He sets a harsh pace, his head ramming against your cervix at the sweetest angle from his position beneath you.

He manages to support you with the strength of only his vibranium arm as he brings his flesh hand between your bodies, once again massaging your clit in rapid circles as he fucks up into you.

You cum around his length in a shockingly short amount of time, digging your teeth into the flesh of his neck as he follows after you, filling you up with hot ropes of his cum.

You stay in the same position after you've both reached your climax, panting against one another in the claustrophobic feeling space.

“We should probably go find our friends,” you say breathlessly with a kiss to the side of his face. “Sam's probably getting sick of being a third wheel.”

He pulls out of you, his cum running down your thighs and ass cheeks. He gently lowers you back down to the ground as he begins to tuck himself back into his pants.

He laughs, cupping your face in his hands as he pulls your lips to his once again.

“If he hates being a third wheel, just imagine how much he's going to hate being a fifth wheel.”

[alessiamalfoyzabini]

Howl at Midnight

Pairing | werewolf!Jimin x human!Reader

Word Count | 7.5k

Warnings | +18, angst, smut, halloween theme, an apparently abandoned castle (don't trespass on other people's property 🤧), mentions of a pact made with the city's residents, poison, MC doesn't really have much choice 💀, forced nudity, dark themes and also yandere (?), underneath MC finds the situation exciting, bites and marks, sink the canines and drink blood, PWP, oral sex, pussy worship, dubcon, begging, virginity loss, unprotected sex (use protection!), vaginal sex, big dick, knotting, MC abandons herself to her fate (I think Jimin's supernatural nature contributes in MC's choices), eat cum, this is not for minors.

This fanfiction is dark and yandere, if you don't like the genre, don't read and if you are not of age, don't read.

I don't want to hear any complaints in the comments, thank you.

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | You always thought you lived in a quiet, small town. You never imagined that the locals would be able to keep such a secret for centuries, you fell into their trap… But it doesn't seem so bad.

➢ Author's Note | Hi, guys!!! 🥹

My best friend and I challenged each other to write a Halloween-themed story using the following keywords: werewolf - halloween - virginity - castle - poison.

I don't know why I came up with such a story, it was supposed to be something simple but my dark side took over WAY too much 💀

Anyway my best friend liked the story and suggested that I publish it, so here it is, I already apologize for any mistakes and for the plot which is not who knows what 🥺

Howl at Midnight was written for recreation, but I still hope you enjoy it ❤️

PS: I really didn't know how to classify this story, when in doubt I put the warning “yandere,” since there are behaviors that go a little beyond 😵‍💫

Permanent Taglist | @katherine-kookie, @btsuga-d, @reallygenerouskoala, @takemeaway5402, @velvet-stardust2002, @jimincrystal, @ke1k029, @kylafox09, @pantara, @themwordsblog, @angelicsmilesworld

It's a rather dark night, you think, as the flickering lights of street lamps barely illuminate your path. You and some of your friends have decided to spend Halloween night roaming the more desolate streets of your small town, rather than attend the party of the school's homecoming queen, the most popular and at the same time most hated girl ever by you and your friends, a common ground that has certainly welded your friendship.

You are reminded of the afternoon you spent at Glenn's house deciding how you would spend Halloween night; Glenn's initiative had been rather unique, since he was not a fan of that holiday.

“It will be fun, everything is so scary at night, we might even meet a real vampire! I mean, not like Edward Cullen, I mean one who doesn't sparkle-” but Glenn's excited monologue had been badly interrupted by his girlfriend, Claire, who had hit him over the head with a book, and who knows why, said book was actually titled Twilight. You remember giggling, willingly accepting that idea, but now...

“We were simply supposed to go for a walk, Glenn,” you mutter ruefully, looking around, “Do you want to tell me where you're taking us?”

The red-haired boy snorts again, settling into his vampire costume bought at a thrift store stall, “Come on Y/N, what would life be without a little thrill?”

Claire, for her part, nods in turn with a euphoric smile, as if she knows something you don't, prancing merrily dressed as a red devil among black lace decorations and lace.

“Life would be as it has always been, wonderful,” you blurt out nervously, freezing suddenly.

The asphalt has run out and the streetlights have stopped dimly illuminating the entire street, you are at the edge of the most talked about lands in your town. When and how exactly did you get there?

“Here we are, my girls,” you hear Glenn say, satisfied with his feat.

“What are we doing here?” you swallow, far from cheerful.

Answering you is Claire, “It's an abandoned castle and this is Halloween night, what do you say?”

You grit your teeth, shaking your head, “You're crazy, I'm not going in there!” you take a step back, your heart stirring, but Glenn stops you in a single moment.

“Where do you think you're going? I promised your brother I'd keep an eye on you,” he tells you sternly, and you know he's right, you can't just leave on your own, the streets are empty but it would still be dangerous.

“Don't you want to see what it's really like inside, aren't you the least bit curious?”

Short answer? No.

More articulate answer? Fuck no.

“Come on, don't be a wimp now!”

You snort, casting a glance at the castle in question.

It is as large as it is gloomy; the older inhabitants of the town have always spoken of the presence of various monsters within it, which is why the lands surrounding the castle are so large, preventing the actual growth of the otherwise large and well-populated town. Some of the land had been ceded to keep the monsters quiet.

That's some bullshit. And you're certainly not a wimp.

What will you find in there, maybe overgrown spiders? You shake your head, certainly nothing up to the Acromantulae seen in Harry Potter.

“I'm not afraid,” you limit yourself to saying, Glenn and Claire seem satisfied with your answer as they begin to step over half of the downed iron bars surrounding the gates of the immense building. It bothers you that they haven't bothered beyond you, but it's Halloween night; you can't really spoil their fun.

You hold on tightly to one of the rusty old iron bars, lift one leg trying not to fall off because of the bulky skirt of your witch costume, and end up straight on the ground covered with dry mud and grass, thank the heavens that it hasn't rained in the last few days, otherwise goodbye costume, although more like an elegant medieval dress and nothing more than that.

“Guys, wait for me!” you exclaim as you turn toward them, but you find yourself rolling your eyes.

The darkness is almost completely pitch black, only the moon high in the sky gives you some brightness in that open space surrounded by green trees and uncultivated grass. Your friends are not there.

“Please tell me this is a joke, please,” you growl, turning only a few seconds to climb over the railing, “Glenn? Claire?”

A shiver of unease snakes down your spine, as if someone - or something - is watching you. But you immediately banish the absurd thought. The Halloween atmosphere always makes everything quite scary; your friends chose that place for that very reason.

Imagining that you simply find them in front of the castle's entrance, you also wander down the path that actually looks like anything else by now. You will meet each other there.

The wind blows without worrying about your bare shoulders because of the dress's boat neckline; the cape had long since been taken away along the way. You bought it in an antique store and the elderly man seemed quite eager to get rid of it. He even gave you a discount.

The sound of falling leaves under the force of the draught is quite terrifying, especially now that you've discovered you can't use your cell phone. There is absolutely no service there, and isn't that how the best horror movies begin?

A frustrated groan leaves your throat, you don't have to think about it.

“Glenn?” you try to call out once more, but along the path echoes the hoots of an owl that is probably scrutinizing you with condescension, wondering why a silly girl like you is wandering around in such a desolate, godforsaken place.

When you arrive at the gates of the castle, you find yourself admiring the extraordinary Gothic architecture of the huge, ancient building made of stone and marble. The fact that it has survived over the centuries without any kind of restoration is a testament to the good materials that were used.

One by one, you walk down the stone steps, sudden thunder jolts you violently, and with fear in your veins you throw yourself toward the immense reinforced door, finding it ajar, a sign that Glenn and Claire must have already entered. You ignore the hint of annoyance, since they could at least wait for you, you must escape the sudden storm.

Wordlessly you notice the large, thick black clouds enveloping the sky, obscuring even the immense full moon.

You carefully close the ancient gateway, looking around the thick-walled atrium decorated with paintings that are surely worth more than your current home, not to mention the carpet you are walking on, though a bit worn, is definitely from the time of the castle's founding. You wonder which lord lived there and whether it can be traced in the history books.

“Claire?” you whisper, afraid of disturbing someone, but who exactly?

Sighing wearily, you really have no time or inclination to play along with your friends, you rest your hand on the wrought-iron railing of the staircase, beginning to climb so that you can find those two idiots as soon as possible and get home safely.

They say 'God makes them and then matches them up,' right? You mentally growl, well, you would’ve just wiped them out instead.

Between corridors that are not real corridors but dead ends, some narrow and some exaggeratedly large, you finally find the wing reserved for rooms, hating the enormity of that place.

“Hey, you ... are you here?” you ask, slowly opening a bedroom door with one eye closed and one only slightly open, fearing to find the two lovebirds doing strange things in the leto of an abandoned castle, because they would be perfectly capable of it.

But what you find is just a lavishly decorated bedroom absolutely empty of any other life forms but you.

“This is definitely a joke,” you chuckle mirthlessly, clutch your arms to your chest, and continue that unwelcome tour of yours, continuing to open rooms at random, with no more expectation of finding anyone in them, until you come to a rather large bedroom.

Quite different from the others, which up to that point had been yes, beautiful, but empty, lacking a soul.

This one was immense just like the castle itself, yet warm, thanks to the burning fireplace. The four-poster bed was adorned with red silk sheets, as were the velvet curtains tied to the solid wooden columns, on the walls finely decorated with gold paint were hung medieval tapestries, depicting hunting parties, running horses and wolves, wolves everywhere. One that particularly strikes you depicts two wolves and a woman in the center, they seem ready to bite her fiercely, you notice with discomfort.

High glass windows with curtains left open allow lightning to illuminate the entire room, followed by a terrible, howl-like rumble.

That horrible noise seems to awaken you from the sort of trance you fell into while admiring the surely master bedroom, and you finally take serious note of the burning fire. Why a working fireplace in a castle uninhabited for years?

“To many the night brings counsel, to me it has brought a lovely maiden, I see...” you gasp surprised and terrified, turning toward the silky, warm, yet slightly hoarse, almost growling voice.

A relatively young man watches you with his shoulder resting against one of the stained glass windows. You had not seen him. No. He was not there before, you are absolutely sure.

His dark, shiny hair has been grown down to his neck, some curling around his sharp, elegant jaw, the neck left bare by his unbuttoned, white shirt is a set of sinuous, sharp, powerful lines. The soft black pants do nothing to hide the wonderful figure of his long legs, his feet are bare, you notice. He feels perfectly comfortable, as if... as if that were his home.

“I-I... I'm sorry, it's Halloween and some friends of mine thought...” you try to explain with your hands clasped to the skirt of your dress, but you are immediately interrupted by the man's sophisticated, sassy giggle.

“They thought it was a brilliant idea to violate my property?” you pale at his question.

“We... the whole town believes the castle is uninhabited,” you reply with a shy breath, trying to justify them.

The young man breaks away from the glass window, slowly approaching you, you take steps back, inadvertently bumping into one of the pillars of the bed.

“And does it look uninhabited to you, little girl?”

Little girl? By the look of him, he wouldn't seem that much older than you, in fact.

Now that he has moved closer, standing only a foot away from you, you notice details of his face that you did not catch a few moments earlier.

He has high, pronounced cheekbones, and his lips seem so plump and soft that you blush at the thought of kissing them, his nose is well-proportioned and straight, while the peculiar shape of his eyes gives him a rather sweet and angelic air, although the fun written in them is anything but angelic.

“I didn't know, I'm really sorry, sir,” and it's true, the last thing you want is to be a nuisance to someone you don't even know, “I'll get my friends back and we'll leave right away, I promise.”

Dark eyes rimmed with long eyelashes watch you closely, before dropping to the rest of your body. Suddenly you remember the deep cleavage of your witch's dress, your skin burning under his watchful gaze.

“Right now there is no one else in the castle, except you and me,” he approaches again, you can feel his warm breath meet your neck, you shiver as the man clasps one hand above your head, around the pillar of the bed, doing the same with the other. This makes it clear how statuesque his physique is, compared to your more petite one, you also catch a subtle citrus fragrance, light and not cloying, is that him?

With a huge effort, you process his words, widening your eyes. No one else?

“But how-”

“In my opinion you made it all up, little girl,” he sneers, "Just admit that it was your curiosity that drove you here," but you shake your head, vehemently denying it.

“I really came here with friends!” you fret, you've never been good at handling pressure and this guy is not helping you at all.

“Oh, really?” a devilish smile makes its way across his soft, smooth cheeks, "So it's just a coincidence that you're wearing this dress?" you don't know how to answer the question, you can't, not when he lowers a hand over you, brushes the outline of your face with a finger, trailing down the delicate line of your neck to your cleavage, your rippling, shivering skin longs to receive his touch once more, you struggle to recover.

“Th-this dress?” you stammer in shame, his finger is still grazing your chest and you are doing nothing to push it away.

“Mh-mh,” he nods, pushing your cleavage down a few millimeters, enough to make you squeak with red cheeks, “How much do you know about this castle and its owners, little girl?”

Nothing, you'd like to answer, but your eyes already communicate your answer as he pulls back, finally letting you breathe. His scent still hovers around you, though.

“Year 1479, the people of the town of Howl enter into an agreement with the seven lords of Midnight, ceding a part of their lands to these noble lords and agreeing to send a virgin once every ten years, on the so-called Halloween Night,” he narrates, leaving you speechless, “In return, none of the townspeople would be hunted down and killed, does that ring a bell?”

“L-Listen to me, I really don't know what you're talking about, I definitely have to go now,” you nod at your own words, but the door slams shut along with a new and terrible rumble, an anguished cry involuntarily leaving your throat.

“The dress you're wearing is soaked in poison, little girl” the imperious tone terrifies you, automatically your body closes in on itself, as a kind of protection.

“This must definitely be a joke, it is Halloween after all,” you whisper to yourself with tears in your eyes.

“It's a security, for us. It ensures that the girls don't run away, because we are the only ones who can neutralize that poison” you don't know why the man started speaking in plural, you just know that you have to leave, even though something inside you is screaming at you not to. Because it could end very badly.

“You'd better take it off, your body might absorb more poison than is really necessary, the sooner we start the better,” he sighs, beginning to take off his white shirt, showing off a well-built, smooth chest and abs studded with thin scars lighter than his skin, swallowing without any more salivation, following long lines of black ink that weave across his pecs, forming some kind of mark, perhaps related to some cult.

“What are you doing!”

The man tilts his head, his soft hair following the movement meekly, and grasps the edge of his pants, running his forefinger and thumb over it defiantly as he watches you, “I'm taking what was given to me, little girl,” he sneers again, not at all impressed by your shock.

It was not uncommon for him and his brothers to be served girls who were totally unaware of their own destiny, they were tiresome at times, they would not stop shaking and crying, praying not to be deprived of their purity, but you smell so delicious that it might make him go beyond your dullness.

The fabric of his excellent quality pants slowly flows over the flawless skin of his toned legs, the blood rushes straight to your cheeks, and your heart misses a beat with a strangled “iiih” as you realize that the stranger has not only freely undressed in front of you, but is not wearing any underwear.

You've certainly never seen a naked man in person, but based on your anatomy books, that is definitely not a normal penis.

With a strange feeling of dizziness and no little embarrassment, you realize that even at rest, it is definitely big, with a swollen base almost as big as perfectly round testicles and such obvious purplish veins that you wonder if it is actually already hard, in its own way. Could that vibrant pink be an indicator? God, what the hell are you thinking?!

After a little dizziness your eyes fly to the closed door, you have to leave, run.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asks you, smiling with a hint of danger in his eyes, “Do you want to run? Run away from me? Know that this will only excite me more.”

You try to look away from his cock, with extreme difficulty, as he spoke, his cock had moved slightly, as if agreeing with the man's words. You ignore the slight jolt between your legs.

“If I can get through the gates of your property, will you let me go?” you propose almost shyly, staring into his sly eyes.

“Um... if I let you go, you'd die from the poison, but if that's what you want...” he shrugs, making you frown. The story of the poisoned dress might be bullshit to convince you to let him fuck you, but what if it's not?

You shake your head, it's all just a bluff. This man is clearly a pervert, maybe he gets off on fucking on such nights with stranger women.

“That's what I want.” you assure with a note of panic in your voice, the desire to escape is so urgent you can hardly think, “Open the door.”

But the man shakes his head, “Strip and I will leave you free to roam my lands until I find you.”

“I don't-!” the words die between your lips, his singsong expression gone, giving way to a sternness that clashes with his regal features, the difference making that contrast frightening.

“I like to play, little girl ... but I don't tolerate whining, don't make me angry, because I might decide to take you now, we have a bed available right here and now,” he hisses, clenching his fist against the polished wooden backboard of the four-poster bed. The more he looks at you, the more his balls throb fiercely; he's trying to control his desire; if his cock hardens, that's the end.

You're the first woman he's seen in 60 years, finally his turn has come, and there's no way he'll let you go. Do you want to play? He'll let you, but eventually you'll give in to his desires. The scent of your sweet virgin pussy makes his wolf growl, eager to get out to meet you.

Perhaps you sense something strange, because with trembling fingers you go to unbutton the side opening of your dress, a little sorry to him, the plunging neckline raises and shapes your breasts invitingly, though the stench of the poison with which it is imbued leaves him disgusted. An idea of humans to persuade chosen women not to flee, his eyes scroll over the ancient clock hanging above the door, the hands turn and you have just four hours to go before the poison takes effect, killing you. He would be sorry to see you die without having had a chance to taste you first.

“Tic-Tac, the clock is ticking, little girl... the slower you are, the more likely you are to die,” he informs you with a smile, your fear written all over his face igniting his loins; he has to restrain himself so he doesn't jump on you, and you're aware of that now, too.

Your eyes study his shoulders, they have stiffened noticeably, and with embarrassing speed you unfasten the last side button, letting the soft black fabric of your dress slip off like a veil, leaving you in your bra and panties. You start up under his eyes, which move to observe every nook and cranny of your body, from the soft breasts enclosed in the cups of the purple lace bra, going lower and lower, past the delicious curve of your hips to the tightly clasped mount of Venus covered by more purple lace. You yourself realize that for a man who wants to possess you, that kind of lingerie might make you look like a neatly wrapped gift in his eyes.

“Don't stop,” he tells you hoarsely, his eyes veiled with glowing lust.

The blood leaves your veins; if he were to take you, you would already be ready to receive him. As your fingers move to get rid of your bra as well, you realize you don't find it such a disturbing idea after all, even when you finally pull down the light fabric of your panties, showing off something no boy has ever had the honor of looking at, his nostrils flaring as if to inhale something in the air, you are aroused.

“You'd better start running, little girl, I'm going to give you exactly twenty seconds head start,” his voice comes out as a guttural sound, making you widen your eyes and really run, when the door suddenly opens wide.

You don't even wonder what strange contraption he used to close or open the door without having to physically do it, you just know you are definitely in danger.

Every nook and cranny of the castle is an unknown, he owns it, he may know passages unknown to you; therefore, you always try to wander the corridors with no visible openings. A tense, animalistic roar makes you scream in terror, with spirited eyes you look down the stairs, you are close to the stairs to the hall, the door has not been locked, you just need more time, you can make it.

You sling yourself barefoot down, almost tumbling from your haste and throw yourself out, skipping the stone steps and then to the wild path, short of breath and fear dictating your decisions, you remember it took you a good twenty minutes to get to the castle, but walking the whole path is out of the question, it would be too obvious and easy, you necessarily have to lengthen the path and consequently put in more time to get away from that terrifying place.

With horror you realize that you don't know where Glenn and Claire might be at all, would he hurt them if he found them?

Of course he would.

You don't know the man, but you have noticed all too well the bestial aura around him; he is someone capable of harm, and he will harm you if you cannot escape him.

Your feet step on scattered branches on the ground and you whimper trying to ignore the pain, another roar - or maybe it's a howl? - rips through the air, mingling with the howls of the rushing wind, and you stifle an anguished cry.

Scratches open along your body, trees ravaged by bad weather and never tended seem to want to block your way in every way possible, and the darkness certainly doesn't help.

Like a wounded animal you limp aimlessly, not imagining the hunger of the ravenous beast that sneers at the scent of your blood.

You feel tired, sluggish at times, your peripheral vision somewhat obscured, an excruciating doubt makes its way into your mind. Could it be that the story of the poisoned dress was true?

But why sell it to you, how could the seller have known that your friends would take you to that castle on Halloween night?

You begin to stagger, a sharp twinge in your head stops you, it is so painful that you collapse on the icy, muddy ground.

You realize you are screwed in every sense of the word when a weight suddenly crushes you to the ground, you scream in terror and wide-eyed, trying to shake it off.

Jimin doesn't think twice about clasping you in his vigorous arms, burying his nose on your neck damp with cold sweat, the accelerated beat of your heart rumbling in his own chest, driving him to moan with need. He presses himself against your soft curves, basking in your feverish warmth despite the stormy, icy night.

“Don't hurt me,” you shake your head with your eyes closed, trying to fight the unusual fatigue to plead with him, "Please, I was wrong, forgive me...I won't come back here again, I swear," the boy snorts against your flustered skin.

He reluctantly lifts himself up to allow you to turn toward him, you find some strength to open your eyelids wide, being invested by his sometimes divine appearance. His eyes, no longer as black as you thought they were, are tinged with an extraordinary shade of gold, he watches you from receptive pupils as you notice the grin on his mouth, a mouth larger than you remembered. There is something strange, not human, about him now. And despite the run he must have made to keep up with you, he doesn't have the slightest hint of fatigue in his breath, he's as fucking fresh as a newly bloomed rose.

“You're dying, little girl,” he hums, shaking some hair off your forehead, you lose a beat at the sight of long claws where once there were short, well-manicured nails.

The claw grazes your skin unhurriedly, you feel it scratch without hurting, you anxiously lick your lips closing your eyes, you are so sleepy that you even willingly accept your fate, Jimin snorts through his nose, almost laughing, before lowering himself onto your jugular.

It would be really easy for him to sink his canines into your flesh and bite your throat to rip it out, but fortunately for you he is not a vampire. All he wants is to sink his cock into your pussy and make you cum repeatedly, but if you died it would be hard to put his plan into action. He wants you alive and receptive.

He licks a long streak of saliva onto your delicate neck, heedless of the dirt that has stuck to your skin, before gently biting you. Your reaction is immediate, you start sobbing like a puppy at the feel of his fangs penetrating your flesh, you cling to his shoulders trying to move him weakly from you, and you kick awkwardly with your legs, legs that are locked in a vice grip by his. That way it is easy to feel something hard and heavy pressing against your belly, you try not to think about it as the man seems inebriated by the taste of your blood flowing straight down his throat.

The bitter taste of the poison is revolting, but fortunately your blood has such sweet notes that it counterbalances that horrendous taste in a balanced way, here, now he just has to lick your wound thoroughly. He collects the last rivulets of your blood with his tongue, before dripping his saliva into the tiny holes created by his sharp canines, little holes that begin to close with light smoke, cauterizing the wound and partly removing the poison toxins from your blood.

With no longer a grip on your throat, your head falls limply back to the ground, you gasp trying to fight off the shock of such an experience.

“Mpf!” his tongue invades your mouth treacherously, the taste of your blood making you squeal on his lips, so unfairly soft and pleasant to the touch. The hot and unusually long muscle pushes into your oral cavity eagerly, saving your life has as if awakened the more primal side of Jimin, one of the seven lords who unleashed hell in Howl's town. And the mating ritual has begun, but you cannot know this.

You break free by gasping for air, “W-why?” you stutter breathlessly, “You don't even know me!” you cry as you drive your nails into his forearms, triggering in return a reaction of possession in him, prompting him to grab your thighs and lift them onto his shoulders to your profound horror, he is so wild as he spreads your legs wide open to sink his face in between them that you can't utter a single breath.

As he runs his tongue along your pulsing, hot folds, Jimin realizes with nastiness that during your escape you got wet for him, he had smelled your arousal as he pursued you, on some people the quickened heartbeat has that effect, but the sweet and slightly salty taste of your juices are now a definitive proof for him. And you can't deny it, you love how he teases you by slowly sliding around your swollen clit, plays with it by holding it between his lips and then releasing it after sucking hard, almost biting it. He tortures it by pricking it quickly with the tip of his tongue and then returns to lapping your thick juices from the soft slit, which seems to melt every time that devilish tongue penetrates it, managing to lick and stimulate walls that a normal tongue could never reach.

You shyly move your pelvis against his face, your thighs stained with your arousal tremble against his cheeks, and a terrible heat makes you pant desperately. The man abandons your slit to push himself again against your unbearably sensitive folds, they are so moist that you can hear the noise they make every time that cursed tongue stimulates them to push a few millimeters toward your clitoris, never reaching to touch it.

“God!” you curse, suddenly reaching out an arm to grab his hair, not recognizing yourself when you desperately push him against your pussy, longing for the pleasure he was spoiling you with at first.

His arousal makes him grunt like a wounded animal as he sinks into your core with languid, sensual movements, rewraps your desperate clit with his lips and tongue before continuing with more direct, zigzagging movements, crushing it at times with the flat part of his tongue and then flicking it with the tip soon after. He would never stop kissing and licking you like that, his tensed cock vibrating each time he eats you up a little more, delightedly swallowing your juices, enjoying retrieving them each time they flow between your wide-open, rosy thighs. A clearer, liquid substance squirts slightly out of your slit, causing you to shake around his head, you clench your lower lip between your teeth with tears sliding down your flushed cheeks, you are instigating Jimin to pleasurably hurt you, and the funniest thing is that you don't even notice.

Finishing licking some of that shiny, transparent substance from your inner thigh, the boy moves up your body, biting slowly at the flesh of your belly and then higher and higher to the softness of your breasts, titillating a turgid nipple before pulling it between his lips.

“W-What are you doing to me?” you gasp, wishing he would never stop adoring and cuddling your body, why? Just moments before you were running from his clutches, why are you lifting your pelvis now, inviting him to take you as if you've been waiting for this all your life?

“Are you just...” he murmurs, before kissing your chin with his devilish lips, "Responding to your desire" he kisses your mouth again, an electric sensation forcing you to comply, chasing his tongue with yours, collapsing to the spicy taste that is now all over his mouth, your taste.

With half-closed eyes you realize that the dark lines of ink are moving, taking the shape of a wolf watching you, you have no way to comprehend the unsettling sensation that invades you. The man, with one hand pressed against your bare back, forces you to turn away without you having any say in the matter, you find yourself with your face to the ground and the wind blowing down your back, shivering under his fiery, golden eyes, your legs trembling from the effort to keep you on your hands and knees, fighting the sweet pain pulsing in your naked pussy.

“Now hold still, little girl,” he murmurs in your ear in a husky voice, sensuously pumping his cock with one hand, swollen veins pushing against his palm, which squeezes along the entire shaft to the base, then back to the thick tip from which he is already dripping his thick cum, "I need to get all the venom out of your pretty little body, am I right?" he sneers, positioning himself at your entrance.

You open your eyes wide, panic stifled by arousal, but it's still there nonetheless, clenching your fingers between the grass and damp earth, rubbing your knees against pebbles that make you moan in pain. The length of his cock begins to push against your slit, forcing it open for him, a choked cry leaves your throat, feeling your walls that, despite their wetness, struggle to let him in.

“You're still so tight,” hisses the man unfamiliar to you, "I must spoil you some more, huh?" he chuckles, sliding his hand between your legs, using his index finger to stimulate your throbbing bud, you gasp arching your back and raising your buttocks toward the man, who takes the opportunity to plunge his cock another inch into your entrance, which throbs and squeezes him rhythmically, almost making him lose control of the situation.

The sensation of the claw grazing your folds each time he presses and massages your swollen clitoris brings you almost to the edge, you feel a wild sexual desire, something you never experienced even during your teenage years, a crucial period of sexual development.

“Go ahead, please!” you exclaim breathlessly, pressing your forehead against the ground, every single millimeter that moves inside you without really penetrating you is like torture, your index finger moving languidly, and you're going fucking crazy.

“Are you really begging?” he teases you, you grit your teeth until it hurts, but finally you give in.

“Please... fill me, take me!”

“Do you want it?” he asks again, pulling the tip almost completely out, the only part he had managed to get in, you clench your legs desperately trying to recover what your intimacy has lost.

“Yes! I want it! I want your cock, I want it to fill me all the way, and I want it now!” you growl with an anger that burns under your skin, looking at him from behind, his face is an emotionless mask, but his eyes...oh, those never lie, you read the fire of desire in them, he's suffering that anticipation as much as you are. Bastard.

“You begged for it so well, little girl... I'll just have to satisfy you,” the cavernous tone clashes with his appearance, but it anticipates what happens next and leaves you breathless, abandoning your contracted clitoris he grips your hips tightly, almost penetrating your delicate flesh with his claws, pushing himself into you with a vigorous thrust, instantly breaking the thin membrane at your entrance, effortlessly. The burning that follows makes your eyes water, your body instinctively trying to escape the man's savage assault, suddenly realizing that you have lost your virginity that way, out in the open, sweaty and dirty, just like an animal.

The man on top of you hisses and makes strange deep sounds, inebriated by the sensation of his throbbing cock finally and completely squeezed between your trembling walls, trying to adjust to the abnormal size. You gasp whimpering, moving your pelvis trying to disentangle yourself from the overgrip, his claws are hurting you, but he doesn't seem to want to let go, not now that he is buried so deep.

With a grunt he thrusts out slightly, watching as your pussy instinctively clings to him, as your thick juices and virginal blood wet his entire length, lubricating him. Leaning toward you, he lets a long trickle of saliva fall back between your buttocks, slipping between them reaches the point where you are joined. He thrusts back into you forcefully, striking deeper and deeper, and you feel every detail of his cock penetrating you and thrusting higher and higher, touching points so delicate and sensitive that you howl meekly, like a she-wolf offering her whole self to her mate, the pain has been replaced by the need to be possessed, you move against his pubes with urgency, the thread of pleasure is getting thinner and thinner, you feel incredibly wet, practically soaked, and the sounds of your union are so obscene that you are shamefully aroused. Your walls flutter drunkenly with pleasure, at one point with the thick, red tip he manages to hit the entrance to your cervix with precision, you stiffen whimpering breathlessly, and Jimin collapses on top of you, continuing to move his hips tirelessly and with spellbinding sinuosity.

You take it so well that it is impossible for him not to want to have you again and again, throwing back his head to be hit by the moonlight that increases his desire, his pupils widen and he feels his testicles clench with urgency as the base of his cock swells, making him shake all over. Without a second thought, he begins to enter you with deeper and longer thrusts so that his whole cock sinks into you without any more constriction, he hears you panting and crying and this only causes him joy, you are completely abandoned to him and your sensations.

You're about to come, you're not so ignorant that you don't know what's happening to your body, you've even heard of intense orgasms, but this... god, this is going to be devastating, you know very well. It's nothing like the ones you had with masturbation, this one is deeper, snaking through your lower belly and you feel it in your uterus. You stiffen all over, trying to block the erection that keeps pinning you down between hard, sensual thrusts, every time it touches your cervix you risk going crazy.

“Don't stop me, little girl... It's here, isn't it?” he gasps at you, slamming into you once more, high up between the entrance of your uterus and another sensitive area that makes your clitoris and walls tear with intense pleasure, your toes curl and you can't help but nod desperately, "Alright, love," he replies without even realizing it, kissing your bare, sweaty shoulder, his knot is almost complete, but he wants you to come before he gives you his cum.

He teases a sensitive, turgid nipple with the tip of a claw as he reaches the point of your union, massaging your folds to help you come, though with a hint of naughtiness he doesn't dare touch your clitoris, he wants you to orgasm on your own, knowing that the intensity then will be greater and you will collapse weak and distraught in his arms.

“Oh, fuck-!” you widen your eyes, being hit by a pressing and beautiful sensation of jouissance, sucking him furiously into you amid tremors and searing waves of pleasure, the same clear liquid as before leaks from your slit, this time in a greater quantity, causing Jimin to grunt as he is run over by your jet, slamming into you almost brutally, streams of his cum fiercely fill your core, as if to mark you for life, and finally his knot swells completely, locking him inside you.

Although immobilized, he cannot stop coming, his testicles quivering violently, and only one thing could quell his aching desire. With his eyes now almost completely encompassed by the black pupil, he pushes your hair away from your neck, exposing your previously tortured skin.

“Why does this go on?” you ask feverishly, confused by the enormous weight widening your walls and locking his big cock into you.

“Sssh” he rubs the tip of his nose against you, making you shudder, "Just wait a little longer" his words are followed by an excruciating twinge, his grown canines penetrating like blades into your skin and sinking into your flesh amidst your shocked and submissive screams, your body surrendering to his force, instinctively submitting and waiting for him to finish marking.

Jimin loves blood, your blood, it pleasantly bathes his tongue with its density and sweetness, he moans with need as he loses himself in your scent, instinct commands him to move his hips once more, even though you are both locked together, with a weak moan you take in the last strings of his cum, resting possessively in your belly, you feel heavy and unbearably full, but at least he seems to be finished, you feel him relax as he once again licks the holes left by his teeth, healing them. He looks like a wolf cleaning up after his mate after mating.

“What are you?” you ask wearily, by now surrendering to the idea that the man cannot be a mere human, that probably everything he has told you, from the poison-soaked dress to the deal with the town, is real.

“Jimin” you hear him grunt at such a low frequency that if you hadn't been alone, you probably wouldn't have heard him. You snort weakly.

“I asked you what you are, not your name,” you murmur, the strange, heavy weight preventing you from moving, hissing as Jimin moves awkwardly between your legs, putting you in a more comfortable situation, letting you rest against his chest lethargically, occasionally kissing the back of your neck and licking your neck, or behind your ear.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't like all that attention; you feel a delicious bite around your heart as you cling to his embrace, protected from the evening chill.

You don't know exactly how long you spend like this, maybe forty minutes, maybe an hour, the fact is that finally that thing between your legs seems to melt away, making you sigh almost strangely.

Jimin gently untangles himself from you, leaving your warm shelter slowly and with a feeling of emptiness that stuns you, your legs finally relax and you try to move them to regain some mobility, you feel his cum pushing to come out and two of his fingers enter you, plugging your entrance. No claws, you notice as he slowly turns you around.

You hiss at the burning, your knees are completely ruined, but Jimin begins to sprinkle them with kisses and saliva, the man is back between your thighs again, you can see his long, wild hair shining as he licks and sucks your skin from time to time, all the way to his fingers, he moves them slowly inside you and you twitch involuntarily, closing your eyes at the warmth of his tongue licking a thick streak of cum and juices dripping roughly from you, pushing it down to your hypersensitive clitoris and you moaning in pain.

“Don't do it,” you gasp, closing your legs tightly, but he doesn't give up, grabbing your chin between two fingers and forcing your mouth wide open, your heart faltering with a strange emotion, you let him spit all his creamy load into your mouth, running along your tongue with a surprised cry.

“Swallow,” he orders with a gleam of interest in his eyes.

You do as he tells you, wanting to please him in every way possible, accepting him back into your mouth for a slow, intimate kiss. It is also dominant and sweet, intense.

“I'm Jimin, a werewolf and also one of the masters of the castle,” he explains pushing you against his bare chest, you hug him back as if it were the most natural thing in the world to be there, clasped to him on a bed of dry leaves, "You are my mate, it's no accident that you were chosen ... being a virgin at your age is unusual for humans, but not for us wolves, you waited for me," he emphasizes with fire in his eyes.

“But ... my friends?” you can't help but ask, which makes him chuckle.

“My people have learned to be among humans, they recognized you by scent and led you to me at the right time, they are fine,” he informs you with a caress, “In fact, you should worry about yourself,” he says with a note of reproach.

“H-How?” fear advances again.

“I've waited too many years for your birth, little girl... it's time to repay the wait,” he hums as something hot and hard returns against your belly.

“Jimin, wai-!” too late, the tip of his cock captures your entrance again, this time with more ease and the next thrust has you writhing against him with tears in your eyes, “Oh, shit!”

© 𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐚𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐲𝐙𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐢 -  𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. || 𝐔𝐧𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝/𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝.

[ckret2]

Chapter 76 of human Bill Cipher not looking much like the Mystery Shack's prisoner because he's just vibing on the porch: Mabel's riding high on the success of making Bill two whole friends, Ford's dealing with curses... and let's see how that camera got cursed in the first place.

####

Mabel asked, "What about Aaron Laarson?"

"I don't know," Candy said, "Aaron is cute, but he isn't a very good dancer. That's very important to me in a teen pop idol."

"He's a really good actor, though," Grenda said. "You should see him in Hot Models 2: Runway Boogaloo!" Candy looked thoughtful.

They'd spent the last thirty minutes chattering, with Grenda and Candy sitting on Bill, who was now laying his upper body on the couch cushion he'd been assaulted with earlier but otherwise hadn't moved. To all appearances, Bill was sound asleep—he even breathed like he was asleep—but every once in a while, he'd pipe up with something like, "Don't get too attached to Aaron Laarson. He's dying in a kayaking accident next summer."

Grenda groaned in disappointment. Candy said, "He should have spent that time practicing dancing instead of kayaking."

Mabel caught movement in the corner of her eye, and started when she saw Ford and Dipper. "Uh oh. I didn't expect them to come in on this side of the house."

Across the clearing, Ford shouted, "Mabel, what the devil is he doing outside with—!"

Mabel shouted, "It's okaaay, I got permission from Grunkle Staaan, I love yooou!"

Ford hesitated. "Well... if Stan okayed it."

Dipper looked at Mabel and her camera. Mabel looked at Dipper and his camera. They immediately started making the stupidest faces they could at each other's cameras. "Hey," Mabel said, "did you find the nightwigglies? It looks like they found yooou!"

Dipper self-consciously tugged up the vest he was using like a makeshift skirt. "We did! It was so great, we recorded some kind of ritual dance, how they make babies—" At Grenda's outburst of "Ewww!" he quickly clarified, "Not—not in a gross way—and we saw some kind of Nightwiggler god! It was amazing!"

"Wow! That's great!" Mabel said. "We summoned a demon and almost died."

"What?"

"By the way!" Mabel waved her camera at Ford. "Grunkle Ford, I kiiinda used your cursed camera by accident. Could you please uncurse the tape so I can keep the episode I filmed tonight? Goldie said the magic thingy he stuck on it will only keep it tame as long as the tape's in the camera."

"That's because it's technically the tape itself that's cursed, not the camera." Ford wondered if Bill had led Mabel to the camera.

"Can you uncurse it, though?"

"I think so. I'll see what I can do." Ford took the camera from Mabel. He decided not to comment on the girls' interesting makeup choices.

Bill opened one eye a sliver as he felt Ford and Dipper step on the porch, saw Ford's bare calf over his boot, and cracked up. "What happened to your pants! Did you try to join the Hokey Pokey?"

Ford gave Bill a withering look—caught sight of Bill's mismatched tween-girl-pencil-case/airbrushed-hot-rod eyeshadow, and laughed in surprise. "What happened to your face?"

"Aren't I beautiful?" Bill asked, lacing his hands under his chin (and making Ford snort again when he spied the multiple nail extensions on one hand). "Go on! Tell me I'm beautiful. I know I am."

"You're..." Ford was keenly aware that Mabel and her friends were probably behind this makeover, "...certainly colorful."

"Stanford, you flatterer!" Bill cackled.

Dipper headed inside, yawning. "I'm gonna... go to sleep or something."

That was a good idea; but Ford was hesitant to go in. He was loath to trust Bill unsupervised alone with a couple of vulnerable children, with no one to keep him in check but another child he'd already manipulated into helping him escape once.

But who was Ford to judge. Bill had manipulated him into helping him escape, too. He supposed Mabel could handle him as well as anyone else.

Grenda said, "I think we should watch Hot Models 2 anyway! It's got lots of cute boys! And girls, I guess." She turned to Bill. "Hey, do you like girls or boys?"

"Sometimes," Bill said. "Sure, I'm up for it. It's a pretty good satire of Big Fashion and I like the runway fight scene with the big light show."

To Ford, all Bill seemed to be doing was talking about movies, wearing stupid makeup, and being a chair for a couple of kids. It was so... normal.

It was something a person would do.

Ford made himself go inside. Maybe he'd start work on uncursing that tape for Mabel before he went to bed.

####

Bill had written a magic-negation seal on the back of a crumpled Mystery Shack receipt and attached it to the camcorder with an X of clear tape. Ford had only used that seal twice in his life. Once, thirty years ago, when Bill had taught it to him. And once last fall, when Ford had attempted to draw it in the Book of Bill to prevent its anomalous effects. Bill's book had absorbed the seal into its page until it disappeared—then burped. At least the symbol still seemed to work on the camcorder.

Ford tried to rewind the tape to the beginning; something inside the camcorder caught and made a nasty sound. He grimaced and hit the stop button. That wasn't good. He carefully peeled off the magic-negation seal, popped the cassette tape out of the camera, and examined it. 

He pushed up the cassette's guard panel, but where there should have been a strip of magnetic tape running beneath it, there was nothing. The tape must have snapped. As he tried to inspect the damage, the cassette jumped and rattled in his hand, trying to snap the guard panel shut on his finger like it wanted to bite him.

"Stop that," Ford chided. "I'm trying to repair you." Would it listen? In his experience, objects animated by this particular curse tended to be consistently hostile. He might need to re-seal it.

To his surprise, the tape settled down sedately on his desk. That was more like it.

"Can you unreel the damaged ends of your tape?" If it could, that would save him the effort of disassembling the thing entirely.

After a short pause, the cassette flipped up its guard panel and extended two ends of broken tape.

"Thank you."

It looked like something had... burned? melted the tape? But what? The video cassette's casing was completely undamaged, how had something managed only to burn the tape inside?

Ford snipped off the damaged ends of the tape, used a little strip of masking tape to connect them back together, and carefully rewound the tape a few seconds with a pen. This was only a temporary repair; he'd have to transfer the contents of this cassette to an undamaged one. Mabel would probably want it digitized so she could make her video, too. But watching a few seconds wouldn't destroy it; and he wanted to know whether the camera had recorded whatever damaged the tape.

He carefully removed the smallest of Project Mentem's undamaged monitors, moved it to his worktable, plugged in a VHS-C player, and slid the cassette in.

As he started to play back the recording—the first thing on the screen was one of Mabel's terrified-looking friends—the monitor trembled and jumped, banging heavily as it landed back on Ford's worktable.

"Oh, behave." Ford peeled the magic-negating seal off the camcorder and slapped it on the TV. It immediately stilled. Some gratitude for repairing that tape.

When Ford turned his attention back to the screen, Mabel's friend's face had been replaced by Bill's, his curls filling the edges of the screen.

"Gold-O! You came back!" "Hey, Grend-O. Sorry for the wait..."

As Ford watched, Bill grappled with the camera, eventually managed to get a grip on it, and stared it down with nearly enough fury to make Ford forget the goofy eyeshadow. "Now let's get this straight. Everything beneath this shack's roof is my domain and under my protection! If you want to hurt anyone here—you'll have to get through m—"

The scene cut straight to Mabel's face as it skipped over the damaged section he'd had to cut out. "Welcome back to Mabel's Guide to Secret Sleepovers! Weee're—"

Ford stopped the tape. Huh.

Huh.

####

As soon as Candy and Grenda were gone, Mabel flung her arms around Bill. "Thank you for being nice to my friends," she said. "Especially Grenda. I'm so glad you liked them both after all!"

Liked them? He'd been a charming host to them, but. "Did I?"

"Yes," Mabel informed him firmly. "You did."

Well, he figured he must've, then. And Grenda had grown on him. She'd complimented his eyes, she admired gross things, she had very intelligent opinions on amphibians in general and axolotls in particular... "Hey, any friend of my friend is a friend of mine!"

"That's so much better than what I was trying to say." Mabel let go of him, beaming. "Wanna hang out with them again sometime?"

"Sure!" Bill said, shrugging. "We still have to watch some dumb action comedy movies."

"Great! I'll let them know the next sleepover's over here!" She ran upstairs.

Calling her friends to arrange the next sleepover before they'd even gotten home. Yeah—that was generally how Bill planned his parties, too.

Looked like his social circle for the foreseeable future consisted of three little girls. Wasn't ideal, but he could work with that. He'd always liked getting invited to girls' nights. And maybe at future sleepovers he could talk the kids into some real fun. When they weren't trying to keep quiet, he knew, they fed off each other's chaos. And he was sure there was a budding pyromaniac lurking in Candy's heart.

####

Ford nodded as he passed Stan in the entryway. "Just getting up?"

"Yep. Just going to bed?"

Ford shrugged ruefully. "Afraid so. We got some terrific footage last night, though."

"Oh, yeah? Anything sellable?"

"That's up to Dipper, but I think there's good potential. Bare minimum, I'd bet some cryptozoology documentaries would be interested in his findings."

"Hey, all right! Not bad for a night's work." Stan passed by, headed for the bathroom.

And Ford almost headed on to the guest bedroom—but, reluctantly made himself turn toward the kitchen.

Bill was sitting at the table, sipping at a can of cider with an empty one already on the table in front of him, staring out the window at the morning. He didn't usually drink that heavily this early; it probably meant he was heading to bed soon. The girls must have kept him up all night. Dipper had regaled Ford with tales of what Mabel's sleepovers were like.

"Bill."

"Hm?"

He should have gotten straight to business. Instead, he said, "I watched some of Mabel's video from last night."

Bill glanced over at him. (He still had that ridiculous makeup.) "Oh, yeah?"

Under my protection. Did he consider himself the household's guardian—or its owner? "I..." Ford cleared his throat. "I wondered about—the symbol you painted on your hand to disable the camera. That part of the tape melted, and—I assume it was light-activated, which means it must be different from the seal I already know, so...?"

Bill's face had immediately closed off. He turned away. "You're not my student."

Ford was surprised at how much that felt like a slap to the face. He should have been glad—he'd finally managed to get Bill to agree with what he'd been telling him all summer—but he hadn't expected Bill to ever give up. (He hadn't expected Bill to ever change.)

But he probably hadn't really given up. No doubt he was giving Ford the cold shoulder to see if he begged Bill's forgiveness.

"No. I suppose I'm not." He trudged into the kitchen, rummaged in his coat pocket, and dropped a leather pouch on the table. "Anyway, I'm just here to drop this off."

Bill reached for it, stopped himself, and warily asked, "What is it?"

"The rest of my nutrition pills from my interdimensional travels." When he'd lost his trench coat to the lake during the eclipse last week, he'd had to dig out the old tattered one he'd worn during his travels, and he'd happened to find his pills at the same time. It had occurred to him to bring them up while he was working on Mabel's tape. They were tricky to synthesize, but they lasted forever and the ingredients could be found in almost any dimension—whether there was anything otherwise edible for humans or not. 

Bill eyed him suspiciously; but he opened the pouch's snap and peeked into the resealable plastic bag. They didn't look like "pills" so much as small balls of incredibly dense dark brown bread, each about the size of a wad of bubblegum. "Whyyy?"

"To make up the difference in your diet until we figure out the food problem," Ford said. "They're formulated so that four a day meets a human's... well, meets my nutritional needs. I haven't looked into your..." vague gesture, "body... type."

"Is this your emergency stash?"

"It... was." Stan had persuaded Ford to get back onto normal food (as much of a waste of time as it was), but he still had this stash left.

"Why are you giving me your emergency stash."

"Because... I'm not having an emergency and you are?" It was better than a couple of avocados and some hot sauce. Honestly, he should have thought to go looking for his nutrition pills weeks ago. If he'd realized just how severe they'd made Bill's situation... or how stubborn Bill would be about asking for help... or that they'd ever plan to keep Bill around long enough that his nutrition would be an issue.

Bill squinted at him, and for a moment Ford thought he was about to start a fight for some insane reason; but then the air seemed to leak out of him, his shoulders sagged, and he just looked at the nutrition pills. "For starters, they'll need more than twice as much iron."

"That much?"

"And more vitamin D, I don't remember the numbers right now." He shut the pouch, sat back, and lifted his cider can again. "All right."

All right? Ford supposed that was all he was getting. He turned to go.

As he did, Bill said, "Bed?"

Ford glanced back. "Yes?"

"Fine," Bill said. "Have nightmares."

He couldn't help letting out a laugh. "Fine. You too."

"It's too late for you to start trying to sweet-talk me like that, Stanford Pines!" But he tilted his can toward Ford—cheers—chugged down the rest, and cracked open a third.

####

Dipper was already in bed when Mabel charged in. He rolled over slightly, saw she was still in her sleepover pajamas, and mumbled, "Going to sleep too?"

She rummaged around in the closet by the door. "I can't waste that kind of time!" She retrieved a shoe box full of the wooden models of the townspeople she'd crudely whittled last summer at a library arts & crafts program run by Wendy's dad. She dumped them out on the floor, and, for lack of a figure representing Bill, tore a corner off a stray sheet of notebook paper and drew his eye on it. "I've got to capitalize on last night's success!"

She snatched her pyramid prism off the windowsill and taped the paper eye on it. "Hey, you." She poked Bartholomew's cradle. "Why were you a big chicken in front of my friends?"

"What, with you waving that camera around?" Bartholomew said. "I didn't want it to know I have a soul to steal."

"You knew?! You jerk!" She gave the cradle a harder poke, rocking it slightly.

Dipper yawned. "Capitalize on what success? The demon summoning?"

"No! Helping Bill make two new friends!" Mabel sat on the floor, plopped the Bill prism down amidst the other wooden figures, and started setting them upright. Waddles waddled over to sniff at them.

"Oh." Dipper groaned and rolled back over.

"The next stage of his rehabilitation is expanding his social circle. Get him some normal friends that don't want to eat people or destroy moons or whatever!" She grabbed up the notebook paper again, tore it into sections, and wrote on each with the nearest gel pen: "Friends!!!" "Maybe" "NO" "Healthy ☆ Rivals" "♡ Potential dates? ♡" She added thoughtfully, "And maybe get him a love life. We had to chase off his last girlfriend."

Dipper groaned louder. "I don't wanna think about Bill dating. That dumb eye-bat was bad enough."

"She's not dumb, she's into avant-garde experimental films. And she watches them with subtitles. Bill said so." She placed her, Grenda's, and Candy's figures in the Friends section, tentatively placed Dipper halfway between Maybe and No after checking to make sure he wasn't watching, and then started scanning her collection for more likely friends. "Who in town do you think would date Bill Cipher?"

"Nobody. Everyone hates him."

She stuck Wendy and her gang in the "Friends!!!" section, she thought they were a safe bet. "Who do you think would date Bill if they don't know he's Bill?"

"Nobody." Dipper pulled his blanket over his head.

"Pbbt, don't be so negative! You've gotta believe in him." Blubs and Durland? They were probably his friends, right? She sorted them accordingly and added Lazy Susan to the "Maybe" section. "Just you watch. I'll have Bill reintegrated into society before the end of the summer!"

Mabel had picked out several more prospective friends for Bill before Dipper sighed, rolled over again, and said, "Why do you have to make friends for Bill?"

"Bro. Come on. When he's left to his own devices, he keeps talking about pulling people's veins out of their bodies or telling them secret information about their own childhoods. He's probably talking about something creepy right now."

####

"I'm telling you," Bill said, gesticulating emphatically with a cider can. "It works. Your cousins will never argue with you again, and you guarantee they'll be with you forever! It's the perfect way to permanently resolve family disputes!"

"I can see your logic," Stan said, grimacing. "However. I'm not eating my cousins."

"Not all your cousins," Bill insisted. "Just one, to send a message. You don't even need to eat the whole guy! Just half a limb or so. If you want to look like the bigger man, you can even let him choose which one."

Looking faintly nauseous, Stan shoved over his unfinished eggs and pancakes and stood. "What the heck was your home life like?"

"Oh, it was terrific. I was the family golden child." Bill dug into Stan's eggs. "I was everything your family hoped you'd be and was disappointed you weren't!" 

"Was that before or after you started eating your cousins?"

"I didn't say I did it. That's your species' thing." Bill said, with a lofty tone that suggested moral superiority, "We'reinedible."

"Ha!" Stan shook his head. "You talk a big game for a guy who's never eaten one family member!"

Bill snapped the tab off his cider can and flipped it at Stan's head.

####

"He's delightful, but he's an acquired taste," Mabel said. "He just needs somebody else to help mediate when he meets new people! Like letting two cats sniff each other under the door!"

"Okay, but why you?"

She thought about that, staring at the pyramid representing Bill; then she shrugged. "Somebody has to."

"They really don't."

"Somebody should," Mabel insisted. "I just really want to see him make friends with everybody here. It's like... making it up to the town for hurting them last year."

"I think leaving them alone would work better. After what he did, he doesn't deserve to be friends with anyone in town—"

"It's important to me, okay?" Mabel snapped. "It just is."

What was that for? Did she think he was criticizing her for befriending him? He mumbled, "I didn't mean you."

She was quiet a moment. "I know." 

"Sorry." Dipper was too tired for this conversation; he was just sticking his foot in his mouth. He yawned, muttered, "Good luck scheduling him a playdate, I guess," and rolled over.

####

After sleep and lunch, Ford returned to his study, set up a second blank video cassette to copy the damaged one's data, carefully rewound the damaged one all the way to the beginning, and watched it for the first time in over thirty years.

The recording was grainy and distorted now. It looked so old. This technology had been brand new when Ford had bought his video camera—so new that he'd had to order it from overseas, it hadn't been available in the United States yet. How quickly things changed.

The camera turned to take in Ford's own, younger, beaming face. "This is Dr. Stanford Pines, with the first of what will hopefully be many video recordings of the oddities in Gravity Falls." (In the present, Ford snorted.) "The subject of this first video is a series of magic symbols that, when combined, can animate inanimate objects. Any inanimate object."

He turned the camera around. Like a vampire's morbid pulpit, one of Ford's journals was laid open atop the lid of a black casket. Two heavy chains were laid across each side of the book and locked around the casket's handles to keep them tightly secured. A couple dozen pages in the middle of the book had been left free of the chains, but were pinned down by a cinderblock.

All the security measures were clearly needed; the book was thrashing in its restraints strongly enough to make the casket lid rattle. The visible text writhed across the journal's pages, words and symbols appearing and disappearing in the margins. The susurrations of the pages rubbing against each other sounded like the hissing of a trapped animal.

Ford tipped the cinderblock off the journal and pinned the pages down with his shoe instead. "Several days ago, a local director taught me the spell he used to animate clay figures for his movies. I'd thought perhaps he was creating golems, but aside from the superficial similarity of writing symbols to animate figures of mud, there doesn't seem to be any similarity between his ritual and any golem folklore I've ever heard. Furthermore, his creations are intelligent, capable of speech, and seem to remain loyal to their creator simply out of a passion for acting and respect for his directorial talents rather than any sort of magically-compelled loyalty." A wry note entered his voice. "And I can confirm that the spell itself certainly doesn't impart any loyalty."

 The page below his foot erased itself and replaced the text with large, angry text: "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO EARN MY LOYALTY?! YOU DOG EAR MY PAGES! YOU USE ME AS A CHOPPING BOARD!"

"Wh—! Who do you think you are, a Sefer Torah?! Don't be so precious! You're made of faux leather and craft paper, I'll dog ear you all I want!" Ford snapped. "And I already apologized for the chopping board thing!"

The journal stopped moving. "My cover isn't real leather?"

"On my budget?! The closest you've ever come to real cow hide is visiting the Sprott farm!"

While the journal was stunned silent, Ford scooted his foot aside so the camcorder could see a symbol on the opposite page—one of the few bits of ink that didn't seem to shift around the journal's pages. "This is the symbol the director taught me. But it's only supposed to work if you perform an accompanying ritual to activate and power it, which I haven't." He reached down with a gloved hand to flip the loose pages over, then pinned them again under his shoe to let him record another symbol. "This symbol is supposed to power magical artifacts. I suspect writing both these sigils together in the same book has caused them to interact in unexpected ways. But, by themselves, these two are insufficient to bring a book to life—I experimented by copying them both into Journal 1—so perhaps some of the other symbols or spells written in Journal 2 are contributing to—"

"WHAT?!" Journal 2 angrily scrawled around the perimeter of the second symbol. "You tried to bring that teacher's pet to life?! What's wrong with ME!"

"You mean, besides your completely uncooperative attitude, reckless abuse of magic, and murder attempts?" Ford ignored the journal's angry "shouting" as he went on, "But until I figure out what the other symbols are, my... anonymous informant on the occult—"

"You don't mean Creature #326? Tell me it's not Creature #326!"

"—has taught me a sigil that should be able to reverse the effects of the animation spell—"

A series of magical sigils flashed across the journal's page and were quickly replaced by "HA-HA-HA!" The camera shuddered.

"What was that?!" Ford set the camera on the casket where it could watch as he tried to pin down Journal 2's fluttering pages and write on it. "We'll see who's laughing in a minute, you— Stop erasing what I write!" Ford tugged out a sticky note that had been serving as bookmark, hastily scribbled on it, and slapped it into the journal. "Ha!"

The book immediately fell still.

Ford grabbed up a tape dispenser from the floor, pulled off a short strip, and attached the sticky note more securely to the page. "Well. That was effective." He flipped through the journal. "Furthermore, it looks like all the changes Journal 2 made to itself have been reverted. Good. It defaced a lot of data I'd hate to have to reproduce..." As he spoke, the camera slowly rose into the air.

He turned to pick it up, flinched, and quickly got to his feet. "Oh! Uh. Hello."

"Hello," the camera echoed in Ford's voice.

"How did you...?" Ford smacked his forehead, eyes wide with amazement! "Of course! My recording! The symbols my journal wrote! This is fascinating. Recording the symbols on magnetic tape must be just as effective as writing them on paper, even if the symbols aren't visible without specialized equipment. I'll have to experiment with other methods of... of..." Ford petered off as the camera slowly floated higher. He held out a hand hopefully. "Please come back?"

"No," the camera said. "Please give me your soul."

"No." Ford took a deep breath, set Journal 2 on the casket, and flexed his fingers. "Okay. Let's do this again."

As the Ford of thirty-odd years ago wrestled with the camera on the TV screen, the much older Ford sighed. That had been fun. Exploring the bizarre and aberrant had still been fun, back then. That thought disconcerted him; was it no longer fun now? He supposed it still was to an extent. He was just worse at having fun. Harder to dazzle.

He wondered why Journal 2 had been so wary of Creature #326. Bill. It had been right, he was Ford's "anonymous informant"—Ford had told him about his hostile new living journal in a dream, and after Bill had finished laughing, he'd taught Ford how to counteract the spell activating it.

But how did it know?

Could it have warned him about Bill?

Ford would never find out now.

The TV went dark as, in the recording, Ford trapped the camera inside a box. Slightly muffled, Ford said, "Try getting out of that!" Under his breath, he muttered, "I think I prefer writing over narrating anyway."

The screen remained dark for another ten seconds as the camera bumped around and muttered to itself. And then it abruptly cut to a shot of Dipper's bed. Off-screen, Mabel's voice said, "Awesome, still works!" She set the camera on the table under the kids' window—

That was what Ford was looking for. He rewound several seconds and began transferring the recording of Mabel's sleepover onto a fresh tape he'd prepared earlier.

After that, maybe he'd go back to the start again so he could see the other symbols Journal 2 had flashed at the camera and copy them into Journal 5—onto a page already prepared with the magic-negating seal.

####

In the Nightmare Realm, a red book with a golden handprint on the cover boldly labeled "2" floated alone in the void, as it had since it had been tossed in the bottomless pit a year ago.

Its tattered pages were splayed open as it drifted weightlessly through the aether.

On one page near the center of the book, a sticky note with a seal drawn on it was attached to the page with a strip of tape, and surrounded by a warning never to erase the symbol on the sticky note.

The tape had lost its stick after decades buried outdoors; it stuck to the sticky note, but not to the book. The sticky note was barely holding on by a corner.

And as the book slowly wheeled through the void, the last corner peeled off, and the sticky note fluttered away.

Journal 2's pages rustled.

####

(I think y'all who have been keeping up with my posts about this fic know exactly what's coming next. 😎

Thaaat's right. 😎😎

An unrelated flashback chapter!!!

Anyway hope y'all enjoyed, let me know what you think!)

[most-datable-datable-bracket]

SEMI-FINALS MATCH 2

Karlach propaganda:

“Sweetest girl ever. She could throw you across a room. She can burn down a house. But she just wants a hug and to be cared about and to live her life.” 

“Definitively overused phrase but she's a golden retriever she's so cute!”

“She's the perfect woman!!! She's so nice and cute and silly and strong and wow I love girls”

"Karlach is the champion slave of one of the Devils in a layer of hell, and was sold to her by someone she trusted, and on TOP of that she is an experiment with an engine for a heart and she knows she’s going to die and is in fairly constant pain but DESPITE that she is relentlessly positive and outgoing and silly because her spirit cannot be fucking crushed no matter WHAT"

Claude Propaganda:

"To say Claude has trust issues is an understatement—you have to spend half the game earning his. (Claude isn't even his real name!) Once you have it, though, he's absolutely ride or die for you until the stars go out. He is so full of heart and ambition: He wants both sides of his heritage to get along, he wants to open borders and eliminate xenophobia and promote equality between commonfolk, and deep down, I think he craves a partner to stand with him at that new dawn, or an equal who sees his vision for the future and will fight for it just as hard. Nobody believed in him when he was a kid, but if you put your faith in him, he'll return it tenfold. Some people don't like that he's calculating, or has to leave the player character at the end of the game to go back to his homeland, but both are necessary elements for his goals to change things. He will always come back, and everyone who bets against him and his love for his companions is wrong with a big fat W. #KhalidForMostDatablePrez"

"Claude is a fun little onion of facades. He calls himself the embodiment of distrust, he acts like he's carefree and without worries, an unscrupulous schemer--and so many in universe buy into that hook line and sinker. He's used to others viewing him with suspicion and uses it as armor to obscure his not-so-dark truth: that he cares immensely, that he values minimizing the loss of life, and that above all he has so much hope that people will fundamentally choose to do better given the choice.

His front guards a center that his conflict filled world would be happy to tear apart. As the child of people from two nations in constant conflict--one of which is explicitly isolationist and dehumanizes those outside its church's reach--he hasn't really had a place where he can be without his facade. As a child he thought he could run, but when confronted with the fact that this hatred existed no matter where he ran, he chose to instead try to create a more just and kind world.

His inability to let others in beyond his facade at first may lead to a sense of distance, but isn't it then all the more satisfying when you're allowed in? All he wants is a little trust, a little faith, and--like what he wants to give everyone--a chance to be better.

And like that you got a charming young lad with a fun personality that your grandma would be thrilled to have stay forever."

[thebenjiblackwoodexpress]

Devil's Snare part.4

Aemond Targaryen x reader Description: Aemond has won the love of his handmaiden, but he worries that her shyness is stopping her from feeling truly comfortable expressing her affections. When Y/N receives unwanted advances from another Lord, Aemond proves just far he'll go to protect his lady.

Previous Part Part 5

Writer's note: I cannot express enough how much all your lovely comments mean to me. I still feel quite new to writing fanfic so it's amazing to know people actually want to read what I write. There's a brief mention of sexual assault in this so please don't read if this is triggering or upsetting to you in any way.

Warnings: female reader, brief mention of sexual harassment and attempted assault, protective (aka violent) Aemond, incredibly fluffy, lengthy as always, I have an obsession with Ewan Mitchell's hands; I'm being so brave about it but I will make it everyone's problem.

Aemond gently grazed his knuckles up and down Y/N's ribcage absentmindedly as he read to her, her body pressed into his side. She had appeared nervous when he'd first suggested it, a week having passed since then, but she never seemed so relaxed in his company as she did now listening to him read of ancient Targaryen dragon riders. He had been so happy, so relieved, when his shy girl had reciprocated his love. But he had not accounted for her shyness around him persisting even now that she knew he loved her. She was always tentative about expressing her feelings, and rarely initiated any physical contact with him. He had been concerned at first that she had reconsidered her feelings, a worry exacerbated by her reticence to inform anyone else of their betrothal. He thought back to the moment she'd agreed to marry him, how he'd immediately wanted to take her to see his mother and declare his intentions. It had been Y/N who had stopped him, frantically grabbing onto his arm and pulling him back to her, immediately putting him on alert.

Crouching back down in front of the chaise where she sat, his gaze had softened as he saw her eyes widened in alarm, hand still gripping his sleeve tightly. He spoke in as calm a tone as he could muster as he tried to ignore his own disquiet. "What is it my love?" Y/N smiled at him, but he noted that it did not reach her eyes.

"You might find me rather silly." Aemond brushed his knuckles lightly over her cheekbone in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. "I assure you I will not."

"It is only that I cannot help my more reserved nature. I feel comfortable with you not to judge me for it, but not others. And I know there will be whispers about your choice of a handmaiden to wife."

Aemond's good eye narrowed slightly. "I will have the tongue of anyone who bismirches you."

Y/N had lightly shaken her head at his suggestion. "I do not wish you to. Just allow me some time to get used to the idea that you love me first. I wish for it to be only us for now."

Aemond took hold of both her hands, saddened by her choice of words though desiring to be understanding of her wishes. But he would be firm on one matter.

"I do love you."

Aemond tried to oust these thoughts from his mind, comforting himself that Y/N did not shy from his touch at least, rather she always leaned into it. Though, it would always have to be him who took her hand, pulled her in for an embrace, or brushed his lips against hers. And he had begun to worry she did not think she could touch him. That their difference in status, her naturally timid disposition or, gods forbid, fear of him or his reaction prevented her from doing so. He wanted her to know she did not have to ask for his permission or wait for him to initiate, although he was more than happy to do so. He wanted her to understand that he adored her and would gladly welcome any and every affectation she would permit him.

Y/N seemed to be the most comfortable when he read to her and sometimes she would even rest her head on his shoulder, her breathing slowing so much he thought she might have fallen asleep. It made his heart soar every time for her to feel such trust in him to do so and he would always wrap an arm around her shoulder to pull her closer,  tilting his head down to lean it against hers, in the hopes he could encourage her and assure her that he appreciated and greatly desired her affection. Removing his hand from her to turn the page, he noticed that her eyes followed his movements. From their first meetings, when he'd observed her watching him weave a coin through his fingers, her gaze had always gravitated towards his hands. It had pleased him to know that she found him attractive despite his scar, though for him she was the most beautiful girl in the world. Dropping a hand down from the book he was holding, he took hold of his lady's hand, which was resting in her lap, and interlocked their fingers, a smile forming at the light dusting of pink on her cheeks at his action. He only wished she'd feel more comfortable to take his hand herself should she want to.

Y/N felt her cheeks heat as Aemond took hold of her hand in her lap, sure he must have spotted her staring. She thought every part of Aemond beautiful, but she had a particular fascination with his hands from the beginning. At first she'd just thought them elegant for someone who looked so fierce, whose sword was almost an extension of his hand. Looking down at their intertwined hands she marvelled at how large his looked over hers. There was a time when this might have frightened her. Now, along with his ever present gaze that always seemed to follow her, the warmth of his hand encasing hers just felt safe, protective. She struggled to initiate any physical affection with Aemond, still not fully able to comprehend his regard for her. So she was ever grateful for his patience with her, always taking the lead. But Y/N knew it would be unfair for her to always rely on him in this way, and she worried that he'd begin to think she did not love him in equal measure.

Resolving to at least try to set aside her nervousness for him, she separated their hands in favour of taking his in both of hers. Out of the corner of her eye she could see a look of confusion cross Aemond's face until she began to lightly trace her fingers across his knuckles, making her way slowly down his hand, tracing veins and drawing patterns along his skin. She heard his sharp intake of breath at her actions and willed herself not to be self-conscious or alarmed by this, slowly turning his hand over to trace patterns along the lines of his palm. Aemond seemed only too happy to relinquish his hand to her, awkwardly turning the page with one hand in favour of withdrawing the one she held. She continued her ministrations and Aemond continued to read without comment, perhaps not wanting to draw attention to her affectionate gesture in case it should embarass her. Y/N smiled at the thought, keenly aware of how gentle and caring Aemond always was with her. While she found it difficult to be confident in showing affection, Y/N determined to find small ways to express her love for him.

Aemond was pleasantly surprised to see Y/N grow in confidence each day, his gentle encouragement helping to make her more sure of herself. She'd begun by simply taking his hand of her own accord. Yet this small attention still served to drive him almost to complete distraction as he tried to focus on reading the words before him rather than the soft touch of her fingertips against his skin. It was not long before Y/N was comfortable to take Aemond's hands whenever she wished, assured he would only grasp hers tighter in response. Thereafter, she would reach up on tiptoe to sweetly kiss him on the corner of his mouth as she saw him off to the training yard each morning. She had looked away from him sheepishly the first time she had done so, but quickly lost her embarassment as he eagerly pulled her in to kiss her himself.

The Prince came to realise that Y/N would always retain her shy disposition, but his heart was gladdened to find that this was not a reflection of any wariness towards him any longer.  Throughout Aemond's life, he had lacked the unconditional love he'd longed for, ignored by his father, relentlessly teased by his brother and bastard nephews. The loss of his eye had only served to distance others from him further, and it was only the strength of his bond with Vhagar and the kindness of his gentle sister Helaena that prevented him from succumbing to his overwhelming feelings of loneliness. He could not understand how Y/N, who seemed to be made of pure light, could be drawn to him in spite of the darkness that festered within his heart. But he was everyday grateful she had chosen to love him and he admired her bravery to push through her trepidation and show him as much. This only emboldened him all the more in his own expressions of his love for her.

Y/N was lost in thought as she passed along the halls of the Red Keep. She often found herself so, thinking of Aemond when she was not with him and pondering on her own apprehension to marry the man she loved. She knew that Aemond would have married her the instant she'd agreed to be his wife. He'd told her as much. Yet she could not fully suppress her fears over the judgements of others, the potential opposition they would face for such an unorthodox match. Though, day by day she found herself growing less concerned by these possibilities, moved by the extent of Aemond's love for her and patience to wait until she was ready. With her mind thus preoccupied, she was thoroughly startled when a hand encircled her wrist and tugged her into a sequestered passageway, letting out an audible shriek. The momentum caused her to fall forward into whoever had accosted her. Arms wrapped around her, hands splaying out to cover her waist...Aemond's hands, she realised as she looked up to see him grinning at her playfully.

Before she could scold him for scaring her, he crashed his lips against hers. Y/N's hands flew up to grip Aemond's shoulders as he slowly shifted them backwards until she felt the cool stone of the Keep's walls pressing against her back. Aemond brought a hand up to rest against her cheek, tilting her head up to his to deepen the kiss. Y/N broke away from him a few moments later, shoving lightly against his chest, out of breath. She was sure she didn't strike a particularly intimidating figure, panting for breath, her hair mussed and cheeks surely ablaze. But she tried to fix the Prince with a stern look nonetheless, lightly swatting at his chest. "Aemond, you scared me half to death."

Aemond only smiled wider and grabbed her hand before she could retract it, placing a gentle kiss upon her knuckles before lowering his head to brush his lips against her jaw, his breath tickling her skin as he spoke. "Are you very angry, my love?"  Y/N found herself unable to reply at all as he slowly planted kisses along her jaw, her cheek and finally her forehead. He paused briefly to hum at her questioningly, having received no response. When Y/N only gripped his tunic to pull him closer, he recaptured her lips with his. She reached up with her free hand to entangle her fingers in his hair, feeling him smile against her lips as she did so.

It was Aemond who pulled away then, resting his forehead against hers. "I earnestly apologise for scaring you my love. I missed you and it could not be helped." Y/N ran her fingers through the lengths of his soft white hair.  "You are forgiven." Aemond smiled at her and went to kiss her again but she quickly turned her face from him, laughing at his boyish eagerness. "Aemond, I have my duties to attend to and I am certain you have your own. You are Prince Aemond Targaryen of the Seven Kingdoms, you cannot spend all your time with me."

Her tone was jesting but she laid a particular emphasis on his title. She did not wish to distract him from his duties as a Prince of the realm.  Aemond shot her a smile so dazzling she felt her heart stutter, before tilting his head down to meet her eyes and speaking so softly it was almost a whisper. "I am your Aemond." Y/N gulped, her hand subconsciously tightening its hold on Aemond's tunic. Seemingly pleased with himself at having once again left her speechless, he pulled back. "But if you insist, I will accede to your wishes and withdraw." Y/N shook herself from the dazed state she too oft found herself in around the Prince, taking embarrassingly deep breaths to calm the uneven fluttering of her heart.

But she grew suspicious when Aemond remained planted to the spot, a strangely knowing smirk upon his features. "Aemond, I promise to see you later. But we must go our separate ways for now." Aemond's eyebrows glinted mischievously, in complete contrast to the seriousness of her tone.  "In order to do that you would have to let me go, little one." Y/N's eyes widened with alarm as she looked down to find herself still clutching onto Aemond's tunic, abruptly releasing her hold. Aemond laughed before affectionately tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "It is alright my darling, I did not wish to let you go either." The rogue did not wait for her response before turning to walk briskly away from her and out of the passageway.

Y/N's heart leapt in her chest as she watched an ornate vase emblazoned with the Targaryen House sigil shatter on the stone floor of Aemond's chambers. She'd knocked it off a side table by accident whilst she'd been making her survey of the room for the evening, and as she cleared up the mess she was racked with nerves at the prospect of telling Aemond, not knowing if the vase was valuable to him in anyway and if he would be angry with her for her carelessness. In her guilt she took him by surprise as he returned to his chambers for the night, all but barrelling into him, wrapping her arms around his torso and hiding her face in his chest.

Aemond had immediately brought his own arms up to wrap around her and return her embrace, letting out a pleased laugh at her display of affection. "While it gladdens my heart that you are happy to see me, might I ask what fortuitous circumstance has prompted you to throw yourself at me?" He spoke low and teasing close to her ear. When his lovely handmaiden only tightened her grip on him in response to his jest he grew truly concerned.

Pulling back from her slightly so he could see her face, he was startled by her penitent expression. "Has something happened?"

Y/N looked up at him regretfully.

"Promise you won't be angry."

Aemond's face had fallen at her request. While he had kept his promise to never again raise his voice to her after he'd first done so and frightened her, the memory still pained him.

"I give you my word."

Y/N nodded, taking a deep breath before rushing out "I broke the vase on your side table. It was done accidentally and I am sorry for it."

Aemond nearly laughed again with relief that it was such a small thing that concerned his lady, but did not wish her to think he was being cruel or laughing at her. He bent his torso slightly so he could look into her eyes. "Is that all? You can change anything to your liking or break it if you will, these will be your chambers too one day when you are my wife. I do not wish you to worry yourself about such an inconsequential matter."

Y/N was grateful that Aemond had not been angry, indeed he was not in the slightest bit perturbed at her clumsiness. But his allusions to their marriage and shared life together had her cheeks turning red with embarassment and she quickly returned her head to his chest to hide the fact. She'd felt his chuckle resound in his chest as he gently extricated her from him oncemore to hold her face. "Do not hide from me, my love. I will not rush you. We will marry when you are ready."

Y/N rushed from Helaena's room, brushing aggressively at the tears blurring her vision. She'd hoped to visit the Princess and return a book she'd borrowed, having grown to see her as a friend. But she was surprised to find her chambers empty save for Martin Reyne, one of Prince Aegon's retinue of friends. His lecherous smirk upon spotting her sent shivers down her spine, as she watched him mentally undress her.

"No need to leave on my account, I was just looking for Prince Aegon. Alas, he is not here."

Y/N bristled at his presumption to skulk about the Princess Helaena's chambers, only shooting him a furtive look before she turned to leave, not wishing to remain in his presence alone any longer. But he quickly closed the distance between them, grabbing her arm forcibly and pulling her further into the Princess's chambers. No sooner had his hands began to wander than the door was flung open by Ser Erryk Cargyll, who'd angrily shoved the Lord away from her. She had only just been able to whisper her thanks to the knight before falling apart and fleeing from the room. Y/N could hardly breathe through her attempts to stifle her sobs as she stumbled down the halls of the Keep, hoping she could avoid running into anyone. She needed to be find somewhere to calm herself and found herself headed in the direction of Aemond's chambers, where she felt safest, before she had even consciously made the decision to do so. He was never in his chambers at this time of the day so she did not expect to see him standing by his desk, back turned to her. She let out a startled gasp at which Aemond instantly turned to face her. Falling against the nearest wall for support, she placed a hand on her chest in an attempt to calm her frantic breathing and stop the flow of her tears, aware that both were causing her to feel faint and unsteady on her feet.

At the sight of her distress, Aemond ran to her side, lightly taking hold of her elbows to keep her steady as he looked over her rapidly for any signs of injury. Y/N couldn't speak, she could only fall against him and sob into his chest as his hands flew up to hold her against him. One hand stroking her hair, he tried to whisper words of comfort to her and hush her cries for long enough to ascertain the cause. "It is alright, you are safe. Can you tell me what happened?" When her breathing only became more erratic, Aemond swept her up into his arms, her own instantly finding purchase around his neck, and carried her over to his favoured arm chair before setting her on his lap.

In any other circumstance he would have been deliriously happy to be able to hold her this close, to have her nuzzle into his neck as she did now. But he had never seen her so upset, not even on the one occasion when they'd argued, and he felt his own heart race and dread seep into his very bones at what could have prompted such a response from his lady.

It was a long time before Y/N felt able to tell Aemond what had happened and she could not bring herself to meet his gaze as she did so. Aemond had to tilt his head to hear her voice muffled against his shoulder, stiffening and feeling rage rise up in him at every word. He did not interrupt her, only speaking once he was certain she had finished. Kissing the crown of her head, Aemond tried to contain his anger so as not to frighten her further, promising to himself that he would deal with the bastard who'd dared touch her later. But for now he knew Y/N needed him more. "No one will ever harm you again."

A short while later, Aemond stormed into the throne room, where Ser Erryk had informed him Aegon and his lickspittle friends would be. He heard their laughter before he saw them, and that only served to fuel his rage further. It did not take him long to pick out the object of his ire. Aegon had turned upon hearing his heavy tread "Ah, brother."

Ignoring his brother entirely, Aemond headed straight for his friend, his voice booming across the hall. "Reyne!" The Lord in question looked thoroughly alarmed at being addressed in such a manner by the one-eyed Prince, taking a cautious step back, his own voice wavering. "My Prince?"

Aemond roughly grabbed hold of the Lord's front. "Did you think your actions would go unpunished you craven bastard?"

Reyne's eyes widened with alarm as he took note of the dangerous glint in the Prince's eye and his venomous tone. "My Prince, I do not recall committing an infraction against you."

Aemond shoved Reyne against a nearby pillar, hearing a satisfying smack as the Lord's head resounded off it. Aegon swiftly stepped in to aid his friend.  "Come now brother, what is the meaning of this?"

"He assaulted my handmaiden in our sister's chambers" Aemond all but growled through gritted teeth. Realisation dawned on Reyne's face and Aemond narrowed his eyes, feeling the blood of the dragon heat within him as a light-hearted grin broke across the bastard's face. "All this over a girl? It was only a bit of fun, she didn't need to go getting upset over it." Aegon saw the danger before his foolish friend and made a grab for his brother, but Aemond was stronger and quicker, merely shoving his brother aside before punching Reyne in the face with enough force to break his nose. As blood began gushing from the Lord's nose and he unceremoniously fell to the ground clutching at his face in pain, Aemond grabbed him by the back of his neck, roughly dragging him from the hall. He dragged him all the way to the front entrance of the Keep before throwing him atop the stairwell, leaning down into the Lord's face, his voice low and dangerous. "If I catch you within the walls of The Red Keep again I will fucking kill you."

When Aemond returned to his chambers dusk had fallen and Y/N had yet to move from where he'd left her, curled up in his favoured chair. Seeing her look so fragile, her arms wrapped about herself, he wished he'd killed the blaggard after all and resolved to comfort her as best he could. Her head snapped up at the sound of his footsteps and she jumped up to greet him, her eyes gravitating towards his still bloody knuckles. He quickly moved to assuage the concern forming in her eyes. "The blood is not mine. Mostly. He will not touch you again." Y/N took his hand to place a tender kiss upon his grazed knuckles. "I am grateful, Aemond. Though I would not have you hurt yourself in defence of me."

Aemond was moved by the sweetness of  his beloved's temperament and her concern for his wellbeing. But he wanted her to see him as her protector, for he always would be. He levelled a charming smile at her. "Do you really think me so fragile and weak?"

Y/N's eyes widened. "Of course not Aemond, I did not mean that."

With the hopes of amusing her, and thereby distracting her from her current troubles, he feigned offence. Pulling away from her he paced to the other side of the room and sighed exaggeratedly. "Alas, my lady does not think me fit to protect her. I do not know that I can stand the shame."

"Aemond, I know you are powerful and perfectly capable of defending me. You are a formidable swordsman. That is not..." Y/N started to apologise but stopped mid sentence as she looked suspiciously at the upturn of his lips, realising he was just teasing her. "Aemond that isn't funny", she tried to look stern but struggled to repress her own smile at his antics. Aemond quirked an eyebrow up at her. "So my lady thinks me powerful, does she? Formidable even?"

Y/N blushed at her own words thrown back at her, stuttering out her response. "You know what I meant, Aemond. Don't be arrogant."

Aemond's smile broadened in response and he slowly began stalking back towards her. He had a playful gleam in his eye that had Y/N stepping backwards in response and moving around his desk, unsure of what game he was playing. "What are you doing, Aemond?"

Aemond halted on the other side of his desk. "It would appear I have to assure my lady of my capability to defend her."

Y/N's confusion at his words lasted only a moment before he darted around the desk, reaching for her, and she turned to run from him. It wasn't long before she found herself giggling as he chased her about the room. She knew he was only pretending, purposefully allowing her to escape his hold each time his fingers grazed her waist, but that only made her laugh harder. She'd not known Aemond had such a playful side to him.

Wishing to hold his lady, Aemond decided to end their game, pleased to have made Y/N laugh and to have distracted her for the moment. He caught up to her and swept her back into his arms, her back flush against his chest as he spun her about, picking up speed in accordance with her laughter. Placing her gently back down he cupped her face between his hands and looked at her seriously, wanting her to know he was in earnest now.

"I will always protect you, defend you with my life if I have to. You are my love and will be my wife one day, whenever you give the word."

Y/N smiled up at him with gratitude and love in her eyes. "Aemond, I think I am ready to be your wife now."

Aemond could not contain his joy at her words, feeling a weight lift from his chest. He had been willing to be patient for her, but each day Y/N continued to feel unsure of their marriage, of him, the deep seated insecurity that had haunted him since childhood had grown stronger.

"Truly, my love?"

"Truly." That was all he needed to hear before he captured her lips in a passionate kiss.

You were expecting Aemond fanfiction and instead you got an ode to Ewan Mitchell's hands. Whoops 🤭

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[asterinthesiren]

oh my god. oh my fucking god. i just had the most insane and delusional realization/theory about agatha and rio. hear me out ok

first lets recap. agatha's colors are purple, and rio's colors are green. purple is a mix of red and blue, and we associate red with rage, passion, love and blue with sorrow and grief. green is a mix of blue and yellow, blue being the same and yellow as happiness. bUT HERE'S THE THING OK. yellow is also associated with obsession, sensationalism, and cowardice.

we know for a fact that agatha and rio are bound by their sorrow. they share grief--of being hurt (agatha) and of hurting someone they love (rio). HOWEVER, agatha channels her grief through her rage. she turns her blue into red, and we see this in her snark, her devil-wears-prada act, flaming everyone around her.

and rio? she sensationalizes her grief.

she answers agatha's rage with mocking confidence, challenges her passion with her own obsession, hunting her down but never quite killing her--she processes her grief through this facade of sensationalism, but underneath it all is her own cowardice--which the better word for it here is shame. she clearly regrets having to kill(?) nick, but the question no one seems to be asking is this:

why didn't Rio just leave Nick alone?

yes we assume she's the personification of death. but she said it was her job, which means she has someone she answers to. if rio is everything she seems to be, why didn't she challenge whoever it is that gave her that job? if she loved agatha so much, why cause any harm to nick (her son) at all? it looks like she accepted it so willingly, which is why i think agatha hates her so much. so in my mind, i'm thinking rio is always regretting that choice, and she might have thought it cowardly or shameful. because what could have possibly been powerful enough to punish her?

WHICH LEADS ME TO BELIEVE that Rio's trial is having to face that choice again: Rio's trial is going to be about sacrifice. about LIFE.

and i think it fits with the themes of maiden-mother-crone. there's this really good post that i 100% agree with that delves more about the themes (@shutupineedtothink), but essentially what this person talks about is how jen's trial is birth, and rio's trial is life, which completes the witch cycle. i posit that jen's trial is about confronting death. jen is a midwife. midwives don't just make sure that the baby is delivered safely, they are there first and foremost for the mother--because the mother's life is what ensures the baby's. birth is such a dangerous process, because at any moment both mother and baby could die. the midwife's role is to avoid both from happening.

and that exactly opposes jen's essential conflict: rather than confront death (whether that's the death of her powers, the death of her legacy, or the death of belief in herself), she avoids it. thus, the crux of her trial is for her to confront death, and in doing so, face herself. she's been hiding behind the fact that she's bound to excuse all of the choices she's made so far--the trial, then, forces jen to remember that she's not defined by her binds. her potions and knowledge all help the coven dance with death and leave (mostly) unscathed.

the same goes for every witch--the road opposes their essential conflict and forces them to face it:

alice's conflict is denying the identity her mother passed on to her: how can she protect herself, her loved ones, if she doesn't know her own power? if she doesn't know herself? (in comparison to jen, who already knows her capability and denies it (and has it taken from her), alice refuses to know it when it's being handed to her on a silver platter)

agatha's is most likely her power: she defines herself with it, after earning it with blood sweat and tears from years of study and experience. but without it, who is she? what can she do?

lilia's is her past: she is hopelessly stuck in it. she can't shake all of the things she's seen and experienced. and if she's stuck in the past, how can she be able to face the future?

teen is still a bit of a mystery, but i can guess that his conflict is that he doesn't know where he really comes from--and why he's being hidden (we'll end it at that bc there are so many ways that could go)

THEREFORE WITH RIO, her trial is going to be about saving lives, as opposed to taking them. if rio really is the personification of death, she's the one being in the world who absolutely cannot be attached to anyone or anything. and she's THE green witch: she deals with ephemeral things all the time. flowers bloom and die, animals prey on each other, hell even the seasons are a metaphor for death. but here she is, hopelessly in love with agatha. thus, with rio, i think the road will put her in a position where she has to choose between agatha and teen. if she chooses agatha, she'll risk losing agatha's heart forever, because that will be the second betrayal. if she chooses teen, agatha will die. so i think it'll force her to come up with something to save them both. she has to go against her nature of taking lives the way she didn't when faced with that choice earlier with agatha and nick.

because what else does the yellow in her green stand for?

LIFE.

[reverieblondie]

What about Raphael monologuing and/or being his smug self only to be surprised by "his" little mouse interrupting him by grabbing the collar of his clothing and dragging the cambion in to a searing kiss before she says something like 'You talk too much' or 'I got the gist, thank you' and gracefully striding off before he can even think to react? (your choice if Tav does this when it's just her and Raphael or if she pulls this stunt in front of a group of her companions who would likely be left there stunned for a few moments as well)

I took forever to get this done but I did your request with a bit of a twist I hope you enjoy!

Warning: last step is NSFW! MDNI! 18+ only!

How to shut a devil up in 5 easy ways

If you had to describe Raphael, you would say he is dangerous, mysterious, and admittedly very pleasing to the eye… the only problem? Raphael doesn't know how to shut up… is it a bard thing or a devil thing to have the inability to shut up? Personally, you wouldn't mind listening to him talk all night; he has a magnificent voice… But you're busy; you can't always sacrifice your time to entertain him. Though he doesn't always get the hint, so you will have to get creative… 

Be honest, 

It's been… What 30 minutes? 30 long minutes of you and your party standing outside of the abandoned village's gate listening (without interruptions, mind you) to Raphael go on and on about some cryptic warnings and strange tales. Honestly, you stopped paying attention ages ago when you had to tell Lae'zel via tadpole that, no, she can't cut his throat. Hells, even Gale is getting impatient, and he's as long-winded as they come. Everyone was over it, so putting on the leader pants, you go to silence the chatty cambion… of course, it didn't work when you, being a person of few words, tried the subtle approach and he was still trying to make his poetic points. Then your patience snaps. "Alright, we get it! Could you shut up already?!" Raphael goes silent from your burst of bluntness; it was rude and coarse… but he couldn't help how it made the slight smirk tug at the corner of his lips, something you immediately noticed. "Well, what kind of decorum is that? I try to give you sage words of wisdom, and this is my thanks, mouse?" he tsked his lips with a smile, his eyes lightening up at your annoyance… You roll your eyes, pushing past him with your party in tow. "Fuck off…" is all you utter before hearing a smooth laugh and a rushing flame. Seems like honesty worked.

2. Catching him by surprise, 

You are completely exhausted; your head and body scream and ache as you try to stretch your worn-out muscles. All your other companions have gone to rest for the night, something you are egar to do but the viscera and sweat that cling to you are too uncomfortable to ignore. So, gathering your things, you head down to the river for a cleansing soak to finally relax. However, as you head to your destination, a familiar figure leaning against a tree catches your attention and makes you roll your eyes... Raphael... "Well, mouse, you look completely worn down, not your usual bright eye look. You look miserable in fact." his voice purs as he walks beside you. With a sigh you continue on with him in tow mocking you. You don't need to look up to see that he's smirking at your annoyance. "I wouldn't say miserable, just not to be tested." you snip back, but Raphael only chuckles further, "I guess I should be careful when teasing you then..." He can tease you... but not with his words; you would want him to tease you with his hands... With his body... No, you can't be thinking like that for the annoying devil. Raphael starts his usual long-winded speeches, but not being in the mood, you ignore him. Finally getting to the river bank, you begin to undo your shirt, and as the fabric hits the ground and you undo your underclothes, that is when you hear silence? Turning, you See Raphael looking a bit surprised, and that just fuels you more. Stripped down you finally step into the water keeping your eye contact with him, he's finally quite and you can't help but feel smug. "Want to finish your rambling in the river with me?" You ask with a broad smile, perhaps showing off your assets just a bit to taunt him some more. Raphael thinks for a moment, his eyes drinking you in before responding, "Sorry, mouse, but I am afraid I have lost my train of thought... Another time, though..." With a snap, he's gone, leaving you to soak in silence. It's a bittersweet victory.

3. Interrupt Nicely 

You're in the middle of a celebration, one step closer to the city and another successful job of saving those you've become close to. Everyone in Last Light has been drinking, and you are feeling tipsy as you continue to drink more from the goblet filled with dry wine. Then you hear a familiar voice, "You're looking quite flushed, mouse... Careful not to indulge too much; your journey is far from over." Even drunk, you can tell who it is without looking, but you do (he's too pretty not too). Turning, you meet his smirk with a broad smile; warm and giggly, you can't help but feel unintimidated by him in this drunken haze. "If it isn't my stalker. Come to try and trick me out of my soul again?" Amused Raphael sits next to you, "I wouldn't dare try and take it from you in this state; it would be far too easy..." You giggle, leaning in close to him, taking a second to bask in his warmth and the curves and lines of his face before placing a finger to his lips, shushing him. "Shh, stop flirting with me, or I will think you're falling for me, devil." Raphael chuckles as he moves your hand and kisses your knuckles and your wrist. "Don't get cocky, mouse... That's what gets you mortals in trouble..." You lean in closer, resting your head on his chest, "Fine, fine, I won't be cocky; that's a better look on you anyways..." Raphael just lets you lean on him as he softly plays with your hair. He would never say it... but you might be right…

4. Interrupt Rudely 

He helped you... Why would a cambion like him have helped you? Of course, you knew his interest in your soul and aid in getting the crown, but you had been clear that you were not taking his deal... yet here he was, burning the wretch you were fighting to a crisp before they got the upper hand on you; he said he could be a savior of sorts, but this should be against his nature... As everyone is tending to their wounds, you are listening to him monologuing in, of course, the most flowery language. You start to wonder if this is always how he talks... Surely not; he must crack sometimes... Everyone has a weakness. Looking at his distinguished face, listening to his rich voice, you realize that he has a weakness for you—a weakness that has slowly grown on you as well. So, in a moment of impulse or maybe just wanting to shut him up yet again, you grab him by the collar, causing him to look down at you confused as you drag him closer and press your lips to his. It takes Raphael a moment to realize what's even happening before he's leaning into you, running his fingers through your hair. Then, when you slip your tongue through his lips to lick against his searing tongue, he groans, pulling you closer to his body as he takes in your taste (finally). After a few moments letting the passion overtake you both, you push him away. You look up at the shocked cambion, who seems to be at a loss for words. Smirking, you pat his cheek, "You talk too much." and though part of you wants to walk him back to your tent, you say goodnight and walk away. Raphael watches as you go to your tent, leaving him gawking at you. Meanwhile your companions watch with mouths agape at the scene that has just played out. "What the fuck is going on?" Karlach says while Gale stares unblinking, "I don't have the faintest clue..." Raphael eventually leaves, amused and eager to see you again. 

5. Keeping his mouth busy

This has to be the best one out of all your ideas to shut Raphael up. His dark wavey hair is held in a tight fist, as your back arches from the intense feeling of his tongue licking slowly against your folds, before swirling on your clit, it's utter bliss. His tongue was constantly being used before, but now having it licking against your wet sex is much better employment for his mouth. When you first met the half-devil, you had to admit you found him quite a fearsome sight but later he just turned into a reoccurring annoyance. Now here you are, your talkative cambion lapping and diving his hot tongue into your cunt as your thighs shake, almost as if he was tamed. Raphael looks up at you with his brown eyes practically black as he swirls then nips at your clit, making you moan his name like a song. He will always agree to eat you out for hours, his thick fingers stretching you out as he licks down your arousal as long as you're singing his name like a prayer. "Rapheal... ah! Gods!" Raphael breaks away from your cunt, smirking down at you, "Gods? Mouse, no gods can help you now that you're within my cl-" Before he can finish, you're pulling his mouth back down with a whine. Raphael smiles, flicking his tongue over you again in quick licks, making you keen, "My mouse...So demanding..." he whispers into your pussy, his hot breath making you tremble and quiver against his thick fingers. You can't hold back any longer, grinding your hips against his face, whining for him, "Please just shut up and let me cum!" Raphael has to hold back his laugh as he takes out his fingers and fucks you with his tongue; you can shut him up anyway you want as long as, in the end, you let him devour you.

[mitchellnman]

THE SIMPLEST SOLUTION. PT 1.

MDNI.

Martin x reader x Michael Gavey

Word count: about 3.7k

Warnings: porn with very little plot, afab reader, she/her pronouns, cunnilingus, messy feelings, Martin's chill, Michael's not.

A/n: hi hello welcome to my random unbeta'd fic please enjoy

"I don't fucking get it." You groaned, your fingertips coming up to rub at your temples - though what you really wanted to do, was rip your hair out, and smash the mathematics textbook over —

"I didn't expect much from you, but really."

His head. Michael Gavey. Your math tutor. You had made a deal with him a few weeks ago, and who knew that the unassuming genius would turn out to be the devil incarnate? Certainly not you. It had been simple; his brain, your fingers.

Not like that. He wanted to learn how to play guitar, and you, with your band that played on the weekends at the local pub, considered yourself to be damn good at it. It had seemed fair, at the time. But now, tears pricked at your eyes, and you felt like a child again, sitting across the table from your father as he explained long division to you again, and your brain refused to comprehend it.

"Asshole." You muttered.

He smirked, and set his pencil down. "Perhaps if you spent more time studying, and less time with your greasy boyfriend, you'd understand."

"And maybe if you got laid once in a while, you wouldn't be such a cunt!" You spat back at him. You stared at each other, glaring fiercely, anger bubbling beneath the surface. He exhaled slowly, through his nose.

"One more try. Then we'll call it a night. Deal?" He asked, trying to reason with you.

He liked seeing you angry. It excited him, thrilled him - but he didn't want to make you too angry, and have you leave him. He knew you had a boyfriend, that imposing cryptid that you kissed on the cheek, and the lips, and—

He coughed, mentally wiping his mind of that image. He knew he was jealous, he had come to terms with it weeks ago, after a quick and hot rub of his crotch made him cum so hard he saw stars, face buried in the pillow you had plopped on your lap. It wasn't fair that Mark, Matthew, whatever his name was, got to hold you, got to touch you, taste you, and Michael only ever got to frustrate you.

He knew he was jealous. But you couldn't know that. It would ruin everything.

"Michael, no matter how many times you explain this thing, it doesn't make sense." You said, utterly frustrated with yourself. Your hands did go up to your hair then, tugging.

Michael pressed his lips together, and patted your shoulder. It was the only part of you that he permitted himself to touch, beside your hands when they brushed, knees when they knocked. "Let me try to show you a different method. A new perspective, if you will." He offered, his voice softer, and a touch sweeter.

You agreed - without much of a choice. Despite your reservations - by the end of the night you understood the problem, and Michael even had you explain how to solve it to him. He'd never say it, but he was proud of you, it was written all over his face.

You gathered your things and tucked them in your old black backpack, the one with the straps that you had to resew every six months. Michael watched you for a moment, then turned and started to rifle through a drawer. As you turned to say your goodbyes, he was there, holding a crunchy bar.

"For you." He said.

You smiled, brighter than the moon on a clear night. "You're sure?"

"Of course."

You took it from his hand, your fingers brushing against each other. Michael opened his mouth to say something, but your phone pinged before he could make a sound.

It was a text from Martin, your boyfriend.

[ just got dinner. Omw. ]

You smiled, and shot a quick text back. "I gotta go, Michael. Thank you so much, for the candy, for everything."

You bade a quick goodbye, and jogged down to the parking lot, where Martin was pulling up.

In his room, Michael seethed with jealousy, now that he was free to show his true face. He paced the room back and forth, so hard that he might wear a hole in the carpet - that's when he noticed you'd left your jacket behind. Black, oversized, with some band logo on the sleeve. Martin's, probably. With a twist of his stomach, he thought, you'd look better in one of his sweaters.

Michael plucked the hoodie up by the collar, holding it away from him like it might bite him. He licked his lips. Slowly, he brought it closer and closer, until his lips brushed over the ratty fabric. He inhaled, deeply.

It smelled like you. Not entirely like you, there were still hints of him. Of Martin. Sweat and oil and other godawful chemicals he liked to play with. Him and his models. Michael sneered, but only for a second. He pressed his face fully into the hoodie, smashing his glasses against the bridge of his nose.

He moaned.

Martin greeted you with a smile as he pushed the passenger door open from his side, the hinges squeaking in protest. You climbed in, and he tapped his cheek. With a laugh you obliged him, and planted a warm kiss to his jaw. The car smelled like dinner, ramen from a local place that held many of your memories together, laughter, fretting over bloodied knuckles, all of it.

"How was it?" He asked. He watched you buckle in, and took off once you were secure.

"Well," you said, pulling out Michael's crunchy bar. "I did so well, he gave me a reward."

Martin chuckled dryly. "Wait 'til we get home, I'll give you an even better one." His hand fell from the steering wheel, and onto your knee. His fingers found the holes in your jeans, and he started tracing the skin of your knees with light, teasing strokes.

You shivered. "Don't start, or I'm going to have to start, too."

In response, Martin squeezed your thigh. "I'm a good driver, but I don't know if I'm that good." He mused. "Besides, I couldn't look at you. That's the best part."

After dinner, while you were brushing your teeth in the bathroom, Michael texted you.

[ you left your jacket here. I only just noticed. ]

You swore quietly, and smacked your forehead. "Stupid." You muttered.

[ will you be there tomorrow? I can pick it up in the afternoon. I'm swamped in the morning. ]

You waited for a long moment. Then finally,

[ I'll be here. ]

[ thank you, Michael ❤️ ]

"Everythin' alright?" Martin asked, leaning against the doorframe. "I heard you swearin'."

You nodded. "I left my hoodie at Michael's. He was just letting me know."

"Awful nice of him." Martin mused. "Better than what I'd have done."

"Oh?" You asked, setting your phone down. "What would you have done?"

Martin grinned that evil smile of his, and sauntered closer to you. He was shirtless, post-shower, and just in a pair of gym shorts. You, meanwhile, wore one of his shirts, and a pair of boxers. He leaned down, and flicked the tip of his finger over your chin. "I would have fucked it until it smelled like me." He whispered, so close you could feel his warmth radiating off of his skin. He licked the tip of your nose with his ever-blue tongue. "Every time you wore it, you'd think of me."

His arms snakes around your waist, and brought you flush against his chest. His wet hair tickled your cheeks, like his lizard's tongue did when he had her 'kiss' you goodbye. Martin kissed you then, his fingers pressing into your flesh. You hooked your arms around his neck, and he pushed you against the counter, his desire evident against your stomach.

An hour later, you were both fast asleep, the scent of sex lingering in the air. You were curled against his chest, and his arms were around you, just like they always were - protective and possessive.

The next morning, he drove you to college as usual. You shared a long kiss goodbye, and went about your day. You took notes, studied, did everything a good student should do. Then at about 2, you made your way up to Michael's dorm room. You lifted your hand to knock, but Michael opened it before you could.

"Oh, hello-"

"What are you . . Oh, yes. Hoodie." Michael shook his head, as if to say 'duh'. "Come in."

"I can just grab it and go if you're busy—" you offered. Michael was unusually out of sorts, his hair unkempt, wearing the same clothes from yesterday, his eyes staring only at your neck.

"No, no. That's alright." He said. "I was just going to go to a vending machine for a snack." He met your eyes finally, something simmering beneath the surface. "I see Martin's made a snack out of you."

You frowned. "What do you-? Oh, shit—" You pushed past him and took a look at yourself in the mirror; Martin had left his mark on you indeed, four hickeys in the vague shape of an 'M'. "He knows better, damnit." You sighed, rubbing your forehead.

Michael watched you, and tilted his head to the side. "You don't like it?"

"I go to an ivy league college with a blue collar background, I just —"

"You want to make a good impression on people you'll never see again." Michael deadpanned. "You don't want them to think you're a slut."

You rolled your eyes. "I hate when you do that."

"What?"

"Make a good point but deliver it like an asshole."

He grinned, cheekier than you'd ever seen him. "Your hoodies on the edge of the bed - I had to move it to sit." Michael explained.

You nodded gratefully. "Thank you." You said, immediately tugging it on. You sniffed it as you did - and it smelled like Michael. That made sense, it had been in his room all night. He smelled different than Martin, very clean, with hints of cologne and sweetness. It made you smile, a soft fondness crawling into your heart.

Michael let out a quiet sigh of relief. He hadn't, as Martin said, fucked the hoodie. He'd slept with it, his face buried in the fabric, inhaling your scent as much as he could - and he humped the mattress. For a very long time, longer than he'd realized. He only woke up a half hour ago, and tidied everything in a mad dash, and hoped you wouldn't notice anything amiss.

The little 'M' on your neck made his mouth go dry. For a moment, he pretended that you were his, and that 'M' stood for Michael, not Martin. He swallowed.

"Are you alright?" You asked. You stepped closer to him, brow furrowed in concern. Michael looked like he might be sick. You pressed the back of your hand to his forehead. "Michael, you're burning up." You whispered.

He let out a strangled noise. "I'm fine." He insisted. He took your hand in his, then looked at it like he didn't quite know what to do with it. "I..." He took a breath, and shook his head. "I think I just need to eat. I was up late, erm, reading."

You frowned, not believing him for a second. "Michael, I—"

The world stopped. He pulled you flush against his chest, and he smashed his lips against yours.

You never saw it coming.

Well - maybe a little. The two of you had some sort of tension, but - you had Martin, and Michael didn't seem the type.

You pushed him away as suddenly as he had tugged you in. "What the fuck, Michael?!" He tasted sweet. Like a crunchy bar.

He ran his hands through his hair, his eyes wide. "I didn't mean to, I'm sorry - I don't know what came over me—" As you watched, tears welled up in his eyes. "I'm so sorry." He whispered, his voice cracking.

"Why did you do that?" You asked, hugging yourself tightly. "You know I'm dating Martin..."

"I know." He said weakly. "I know you are, and, and it kills me."

You stared at each other, tears streaming down each other's faces. You didn't know what to say. You liked Michael, you did - he was kind when he wanted to be, smart, sometimes even funny - and sure, he was cute, but —

"I have to go." You whispered.

"Don't tell him." Michael pleaded. "I'm begging you."

You shook your head. "I have to, Michael."

"He'll kill me." Michael said, his hands starting to shake.

"No, he won't, I promise." You wiped your face with the sleeves of your hoodie. "He's not like that."

"He does that ... car-jitsu!"

"He's got daddy issues, not anger issues." You laughed weakly, and Michael's heart broke a little. "I'll talk to you... sometime. I'm sorry." You said, unsure why you were apologizing.

Michael nodded, and hung his head. "I'm sorry." He whispered again, and you knew he meant it.

You took the bus home, and waited on the couch for Martin to get home from work. You tried to stop the flood of tears, but it was all for nothing. When he came home, you were sobbing softly into a pillow, and he curled around you, immediately comforting you.

When you told him what happened - he didn't have much of a reaction. In fact, he chuckled.

"Martin, it's not funny!" You said, smacking at his chest. "How am I supposed to go back there and face him?"

"Seems pretty simple to me." Martin mused, a shit-eating grin on his face. "An easy solution, if you will."

You frowned, and smacked his chest again. "You're not Gandalf, stop speaking in riddles!"

Martin laughed again, rubbing his chest. "What I'm sayin' is, I don't mind sharin'."

You squinted at him. "But I don't—"

"You do. I've seen the way you talk about him. Even if you don't know it, you're sweet on him, just a little." Martin shrugged, totally nonchalant.

"I am not, he's an asshole, and a know-it-all—"

"First, isn't he quite literally a genius? Sort of his job, innit? Second, you're blushing."

You clapped your hands to your cheeks, and were utterly dismayed to find that he was correct. Your face was flushed, and your skin practically burned underneath your fingertips. "I hate this." You whispered, utterly mortified.

Martin grunted. "Eat dinner with me. Sleep it off. We'll go see him tomorrow. What's his schedule?"

You pressed your fingers into your forehead, gently massaging yourself. "It's Saturday, so - nothing. And knowing him, he'd be holed up in his room anyways. He thought you were going to kill him."

Martin laughed. "Poor guy. I bet I could make him cry."

"Martin!"

"I'm kidding!"

You woke up the next morning groggy and sleepy, but feeling a little better than you had last night. Martin kissed your nose, and you smiled, curling into him, burying your face in his chest. He held you there, running his fingers through your hair. You stayed like that for an hour, just enjoying each other's presence.

"Get dressed." He whispered, patting your hip. You looked up at him with a soft smile, and he squeezed your ass in return.

So you got dressed, in jeans, a t-shirt, and the hoodie from yesterday. You ate breakfast with Martin, pancakes and bacon. Then, you got in the car, and drove to college.

"He lives on the third floor." You said, taking Martin's hand to lead him to Michael's room. Your stomach flip-flopped every step of the way, and once you reached Michael's door, you hesitated. "Martin-"

"Go on." He said. "I'll behave."

"Bullshit." You snorted. But, you knocked.

Michael opened the door - he'd showered and changed clothes, you noted. He looked awfully sorry for himself as he looked at you - then he glanced at Martin, and he gulped. "Hullo." He whispered.

"Hi..." You said. "Can we come in?"

"I thought you said he wasn't going to kill me."

"He won't." You promised.

Martin rested his chin on the top of your head, and he winked at Michael. Michael shivered, but he let you in.

"What's going on?" He asked, closing the door behind you two. "I'm sorry about yesterday, I don't know what came over me."

"I know. I get it." Martin said. To prove his point, he kissed you, lifting your chin up with two fingers. Michael watched, his lips parted. "Believe me, Michael, I understand..." Martin purred, his arm snaking around your waist. "It'd be awful rude of me not to share."

Michael coughed, choking on his own spit. "If you're fucking with me, this isn't funny."

"We're not." You said. "I promise we're not. Michael... you don't have to. But you can if you want." You held your hand out to him, the black nail polish on your fingernails chipped.

He pressed his lips together, fidgeting in place. "I've never - I don't know what to do." He admitted, guilt flashing across his face.

Martin grinned. "Take her hand. We'll show you."

Michael stared at the pair of you, and after a long moment, he did take your hand, his palm sweaty. You smiled, and pulled him closer, just as close as he had you yesterday. You kissed him, slowly and softly at first. Michael was slow to reciprocate, but soon enough he was whining against your lips.

"Easy, poindexter." Martin chuckled. He slid his hands up your waist and under your shirt, his hands cool against your skin. "How badly do you want to taste her?"

Michael gasped, his pretty cheeks flushing a bright red. "I - that's -"

"It's a simple question." Martin said, his hands sliding up your chest, to cup your tits. You hadn't worn a bra, and your breath hitched in delight.

"I mean - I suppose I would - I don't know what to do." He stammered.

Martin grinned. "I'll teach you. Hey, get on the bed."

You obeyed, laying down on your back. Martin took your hoodie off, and looked over his shoulder at Michael. "Get in between her legs. Have you ever seen a pair of tits in real life?"

Michael shook his head as he climbed onto the bed with you two, his hands shaking. You smiled, propping yourself up on your elbows.

"Tell you what, if you can make her come, you can touch them. How's that sound?" Martin asked.

You nodded. "I like the sound of that."

Martin licked his lips, equally eager and nervous. "A-agreed."

"Arms up, babe." Martin said. You obeyed, and your shirt was removed. Michael's eyes went wide when he saw your tits, his mouth gaping wide.

"Watch." Martin instructed. He bent down, and kissed your chest, dragging his tongue over your skin. His lips wrapped around your nipple and you moaned, wrapping your hand in his hair. He suckled there for a moment, his hand teasing your other nipple. He lifted his mouth to speak.

"Take her pants off." He instructed.

Michael obeyed. His fingers fumbled with the snap, but soon enough he was tugging them down your thighs, and pushing them to the floor. He eyed your panties, nearly drooling with want.

"Take those off, too." Martin said.

Michael touched you reverently - he was living a waking wet dream, he wanted to savor this. He slid your panties down your legs, and you bit your lip.

"Put them in your pocket." Martin said, sucking a mark into your chest.

Michael nodded, and stuffed them away with a cheeky grin. "Now what?"

Martin chuckled. "Take your best shot."

Michael bit his lip, and slowly lowered his face to your core. He gave you an experimental lick, humming at your taste. He spread your lips, and licked you again - and he clearly knew his anatomy. He rubbed your clit with his tongue, and you moaned softly, your free hand tangling in his hair, too.

"That's it..." Martin purred. "Good boy. Use your fingers, too."

You were already wet for Michael, he was delighted to find. Slowly, he pressed a finger inside of you, his breath hot on your skin.

"Do this." Martin said, demonstrating a 'come hither' motion with his fingers. Michael watched, and committed it to memory. "You'll know if you're doing a good job."

Michael mimicked the motion, and he found your sweet spot with utter ease. Your hand tightened in his hair, and he groaned against you, his hips rocking against the mattress.

It was all so much, being worshiped so feverishly by the pair of them, Martin practically drooling on your tits, and Michael sucking on your clit like it was the best thing he'd ever tasted.

Which, it was.

It didn't take much to coax you over the edge, and you cried out, squeezing Michael's head between your thighs, the cold wire of his glasses pressing into your skin.

Michael made a sudden choked noise, and by the stuttering of his hips - he had come too, whining pathetically against you. You moaned, and forced your thighs to relax.

Michael sat up from your aching core, his mouth and chin covered in your slick. His glasses were fogged up, and he gave you a cheeky smile. Martin lifted his head from your tits, and kissed him. Michael choked, and shoved him away. Then their lips came smashing back together, Martin hungry for your taste on Michael's lips. You gasped softly, watching Martin's blue tongue disappear into Michael's mouth. Martin took Michael's hand and guided it inside of you. They each had two fingers in your wetness, and they found your sweet spot together.

You squirmed and moaned as Martin uses his free hand to tug on Michael's sandy locks, wrenching his head back. Michael groaned, and as Martin gave him a 'M' mark, his teeth sinking into the genius' skin, you came hard, squirting on their fingers. Your hands twisted in the sheets, so hard they might rip. Your back arched as you cried out their names, your vision going white.

As you came to, panting softly, the boys settled in by your sides. Michael's hand squeezed your tit, and he smiled, nosing into your neck.

"Do you think you're up to fuck her? Martin asked, his voice taunting.

Michael gulped.

To be continued...

[o-pandora-o]

May I request headcanons for WHB Belphegor, Bimet, Astaroth, Ronove & Bael with shy gn s/o please?

Belphegor, Bimet, Astaroth, Ronove & Bael with shy gender-neutral s/o

a/n: I think I did my best here? On Ronove's part his chat says 'pretty' so I used that too. Tell me if I did something wrong and I'll rewrite it. Thank you so much again for requesting!~

Belphegor

🌙Too tired to even go out so PDA is not even an option. He also thinks PDA is too troublesome and just rather sleep than go out.

"Mmmm" Belphegor rubs his eyes and saw you getting ready to go outside. "Mmm where you goin?" He groggily asks "To the movies, do you wanna come?" You asked, hoping he'd come with you "Sure but I'm sure I'd fall asleep while watching it..." he fell asleep again, which made you smile, and covered him with a blanket.

🌙There are two places he'd like to sleep on, Beleth's bed and your lap. He's kinda like a cat, once he decides your lap is his pillow, it's all his. If gets the chance he will use it, no matter if its public or private. He won't care if you're shy enough to let him sleep, he sleeps where he wanna sleeps.

Belphie wakes up groggily, looking for you or Beleth. You were looking at the garden from the terrace when you saw him approaching you. "Hey... How's sleep?" "Good but...not good enough" he somehow looks at you with tired eyes, he was somehow looking at your thighs. He lied down the floor and used your lap as his pillow. "Belphie? What are you doing?!" "Mmm it looked soft...lemme sleep here" he slept for God knows how long, you desperately pleaded to Beleth to lift him up and place him back to the bed, because your legs are too numb. This cycle always repeats.

🌙He thinks being shy is a bit troublesome, he'd rather say something blunt rather than keep it (his own preference). However he thinks you're too cute whenever you're shy.

In one rare time he's awake to have a proper date with you, both of you went on a newly opened restaurant in Nilfheim. "Ill take whatever..." Belphegor yawns. Are you sure? Hmm... Okay one Devil carbonara and one 666 Devil steak" you ordered. "Good choice... I'll take the Devil Carbonara..." Belphie yawns again "Are you sure it's okay to have an outside date?... You look so tired" you were worried for Belphie who seemed to be almost headbanging due to drowsiness. "Yeah...we barely go out because I'm too tired. Can't be always me who wins, no?" The waiter served the order and it seemed that your order turned into an angel salad. "Hm..." You were hesitating to tell the waiter your order was wrong until Belphegor spoke up. "You got their order wrong, she ordered the 666 Devil Steak" he yawns again "Oh! I apologize, coming right up!" The waiter leaves in a hurry with the salad. "How'd you know?" you asked "Mmm well being with you, I realized how you don't call out other people's mistakes. Mmm it's troublesome for me, because I'll have unspoken feelings I'd regret. Don't worry about it" he said, as he yawns and took a nap beside his food.

🌙Headpats, all the time. He likes patting your head whenever you feel flustered because of him.

🌙Likes it if you're comfortable with him as he is with you. He'd enjoy it if you only talk to him (like ranting, venting, casually talking etc) while his head is on your lap. He thinks your voice is a lullaby, it feels serene enough to make him fall asleep, so please talk to him while his head is in your lap.

"Hey. How was your day?" One rare day, Belphegor is awake heading towards you and lie on the floor, head in your lap. You blush but you answer his question. "It was so tiring... Harumon spilled tea on me and I tripped on the debris while helping Beleth scavage" you run up your hand on his hair "Mmm and what else happened?" you can see Belphie become drowsy because of your touch. "Oh and Bathin came and brought souvenirs! But he tripped on Harumon and fell... Gusion also came but he looked so horny because he was computing something about palace expenses...quite weird bu- oh." When you looked down, he was sleeping. After a few moments "Why'd you stop talking?" Belphie woke up like he was never asleep. "You were sleeping..." "It's okay, keep talking, I like hearing your voice when I sleep mmm" he sleeps again in your lap and you blush.

🌙He forgets to say it or somehow hides it to not make you too shy or flustered, but he appreciates it whenever you're giving your best, such as getting out of your comfort zone, for him.

"Where are you going?" He asked as he woke up from his long nap. "I'm gonna pass my portfolio on an animation project... Studio PB is looking for animators and... I wanna try..." you meekly said "But I thought you didn't wanna pursue that?" Belphie looks at you, lazily, without judgement. "Yes but... I thought about going for it after you encouraged me to not be scared and to not think what other people say..." you rubbed the back of your neck "Yeah, mmm good boy/girl. Goodluck okay?" He kissed your forehead and pat your head. He then went back to Beleth's bed to sleep while having a smile on his face. You were dumbfounded because of the sudden forehead kiss and blushed while leaving the palace.

🌙Will slap your ass in a rare blue moon when he's awake and feeling naughty. By the time you'd react, he'd probably fall asleep.

You yelp as you feel Belphegor's familiar large hands slapping your rear. When you turn around you see none, but when you look to the floor, you see a Belphegor sleeping.

Bimet

💰Mans doesn't care if you're shy, if you got money he'd do whatever you say. No PDA? Done. Wanna hold his hand? Done. Mans flexible than Astaroth's snake, again, as long as he gain money from you.

💰However, his personal preference is to display public affection. But again, since you're like his bank, he'd acknowledge your preferences more than his.

Both of you were looking at the couple ahead of you, the guy's hand was on the girl's waist. You somehow looked at Bimet but blushed and looked away. Bimet noticed how you kept looking at them, then him, then blushing while looking away. "You know you could've asked, right?" Bimet stared at you blankly. "I... I'm too shy to. Idk... I may look like a bit needy, don't I?" you blushed and looked down. Bimet held your waist and pulled you closer to him "Let this be free of charge, for once" he whispered on your ear, and you blushed even more.

💰To be honest, he thought of you as his moneybag, he is a straightforward gold digger. But through time he thought that you were cute when shy and decided to stay and in turn, use SOME of his money for you.

Bimet was looking afar from Mammon's palace, while you were in the palace koi pond, having a peace of mind. In that rare instance he noticed himself reminiscing, he only treated you nicely because of your money. Because somehow you attracted good fortune like a lucky cat. But somehow he felt a sense of responsibility, he wanted to protect you at all cost. He was greedy for money, but he was also greedy for your affection. What a fitting man for Mammon's right hand. When he realized it, he noticed himself going down the castle, and ask if you wanna eat lunch at some restaurant he had a VIP membership on (because he is the right hand of Mammon).

💰You know how Belphie and Satan will talk to the waiter if they got your order wrong? Well this guy will tear somebody up if they got your order wrong.

"Oi. You. Waiter." Bimet glares at the waiter after the gave your food. "Bimet no it's -" He glares at you. You look at your lap, and blush, getting ready for the impact the waiter was about to face. "Yes how may I serve you?" The waiter comes, sensing the tension and a bit afraid. "I wonder how your boss would feel if his Majesty Mammon suddenly bought this establishment and firing you" Bimet smiles deadly. "S-sir" the demon was shivering "Um.. there might be a mix up on the order..." you meekly said, saving the waiter from his jobless future. "Oh? Oh! I see! Thank you so much ma'am/sir. I-im so sorry please! Ill bring in some complementary dessert too... I apologize again please don't fire me...!" He hurriedly goes back to the kitchen. "You shouldn't really be nice to him. Hmph. I could've thought him a lesson!" He pouts. "It's okay thank you..."

💰He's a scammer, but he's YOUR scammer. He doesn't want you to be scammed by anyone but him. That's how greedy he is.

Both of you were roaming in the streets of Abyssos because you wanted to buy from the ice cream shop that was popular for it's exquisite flavors. "Oh there's the shop. I'll go buy for you, you wait here okay?" Bimet calmly speaks to you, while having sparkly eyes, that was your cue to give him money. You gave him cash "I'll have the change, yes? Thanks." He fled to buy ice cream. Bimet left you in a bench that was near an alleyway. A shady woman came up to you selling some sex toys. You politely decline but she was persistent, saying she had no sales for the day and was giving you puppy eyes. "Oi. They said no. Back off." Bimet came back, glaring at them, controlling their grip to not break the ice cream he's holding. The demon backed off, not wanting to be in trouble. "Thats right. I'm their scammer, only THEIRS." he hugged you while holding the ice cream. You blushed and he held his hand. You held back his hand and he glared. "No, I meant payment for shooing that demon" Bimet smirks, you facepalmed.

Astaroth

🐍Doesn't do PDA but is a dirty talker. He loves to try and 'corrupt' (make you shy) both in public and private.

"Beings like you are very interesting" Astaroth looks at you "What do you mean?" You look at him back "You deny the pleasures of temptation, you aren't honest with yourselves" he looks at you and comes close, face in your ear "Hmm like this one over here." He whispers huskily. "Previously you were eyeing those harness, were you not? I bet it looks good on you while in bed" he added "I- Astaroth!" You blushed and he just smiled like nothing happened.

🐍Loves corrupting people and beings, especially YOU. He always makes sure and try to 'corrupt' you so that you won't leave him.

"Astaroth I need to go to work, do you want me to bring you food later?" you were putting your foot in your shoe while Astaroth's snake took your other shoe. "Humans work. Why must they work? It would be better if you're with me and cuddle no?" Astaroth got your shoe while smiling at you. "Y-you're doing this again! Last time you did this it ended up me taking my sick leave and we were in the bed!!" You blushed "I succeeded to corrupt you back then and I want to do that again. Your helpless expression in your face was satisfactor-" you covered his mouth and got your shoe. "Shh!! N-not today! M-maybe tonight..." You said, blushing.

🐍Gets kind of insecure when you get 'corrupted' by others, especially how hard it was for him to.

It was your day off and Paimon barged into your house. He was tempting you to go on shopping with him. Before Astaroth could do or say anything, Paimon dragged you out and he was pissed off. When you came back with a lot of shopping bags..."How come it's that easy for others to corrupt you while it took me ages for you to stay in bed with me on a weekday?" he was more sharp-tongued than usual, means he's pissed more to Paimon than you. "I... I'm sorry... He dragged me and...well I got you some clothes and some snake food...." You scratched your head and blushed a bit. "Alright but next time I get to corrupt you" "Okay you need to stop hanging out with Sitri, okay?" You replied but his snake hissed instead.

🐍 ENJOYS your stories and rants. He is happy if you feel comfortable enough to tell him everything, even your day. No matter how boring or how chaotic your day was. Plus he has a narratophilia kink.

"How was your day?" Astaroth greets you as you remove your outside clothes. "Hmmm it was pretty chaotic, Sitri asked my opinion on the palace decor such as paintings, vases, only for it to be crushed by his majesty's Satan and his motorcycle...." You sighed as you remove your socks. "Is that so? Ah to be crushed by his Majesty Satan" he imagines and blushed "N-no! Don't blush!! It was bad! When his majesty crushed the decor, Sitri was mad because apparently the decor had the audacity to be crushed by his majesty! And proceeded to wreck the debris..." you were so tired and changed into your house clothes. Astaroth was still blushing because he was imagining it. "H-hey stop!!" You blushed, it seems like you won't have any rest tonight, huh?

Ronove

🗡️Likes PDA, but prevents himself to. He thinks he might become nuts if he had gain too much physical contact with you.

You look at him and ask him if he's uncomfortable with physical affection, let alone in public. "No. However you're so pretty I might do something to you outside that may make you embarrassed or too shy to go outside for the next few weeks." He smiles and licked his lips. "W-what?!!" you blushed.

🗡️ If he feels like he can control himself, he'd hold your hand instead. Since he thinks hands are the most beautiful body part.

🗡️ When you're feeling insecure, he likes to remind you that he like beautiful and pretty things. So he'd explain how cute and pretty you are (applicable to all genders).

He noticed you were looking through a Devil's magazine, with male and female models. You somehow appear too focused and sad. He kept hearing you sigh and shaking your head. "Hey. Why is my pretty girl/boy sad?" He pats your head. "It's nothing..." You looked away. "You're not gonna be pretty if you frown a lot and sigh." It was visible in his eyes that he's worried. "Well I'm not pretty or beautiful or handsome, whatever so what's the point?" You snapped at him. "Who said that?" "No one... Look at these demons! They're the perfect definition of pretty!" you pointed at the models in the magazine. "They aren't as pretty as you" He made a blank stare as he bluntly tells you. "What?..." You looked at him with wide eyes and slightly blushed "They aren't as pretty as you. I mean look! This guy has a good body so I wanna cut it and display it. While this one had good hands! While the other one his toenail is-" "Wha?!" "While you're pretty enough that I don't want to cut you. You're pretty as a whole." He pats your head.

🗡️Asmodeus gave you permission to put a gag (the one he gave) on him when you think he gets a bit overboard with the compliments, like enough to make you red like a tomato.

"You're pretty. Very pretty today especially with that top that looks good on your body. Yes beautiful yes. And your hands and nails, very clean, like no other. Your legs! Your pants accentuate your legs I'd like to get crushed by it and-" Ronove kept on rambling and you just put a gag on his mouth. "Sorry.... We're going on a busy street and I don't want them to hear you complimenting me...." You blush as he protested.

🗡️Gets horny after seeing cut up angels and instead talks dirty to you.

Both of you were roaming the streets as you see cut up bodies of angels. The bodies were fresh and reeks of blood. When you turn around, Ronove was inspecting the bodies. " Yes. Yes! Pretty bodies.... Hands...Nails... Wings!!" Ronove was practically drooling and was aroused. He was looking left and right for bodies and saw you. "H-hey I was wondering if we can do it right now.." You blushed, you know what he was talking about. "Oh hell no please! What if people see?!" You were blushing so much "Then let me tell you how much I wanna ravage you here and-" You put the gag back on him.

Bael

👑Too busy for PDA, which favors you because you won't get shy or overwhelmed around too many people greeting the both of you here and there.

"Hey" you greeted Bael early in the morning. But he was too busy to notice you. "Bael?" you tapped on his shoulder "Oh! Sorry I didn't hear you. This stupid king of mine went on a shopping spree again! Like imagine! I just went to sleep and look at all the receipts!! One day!!" he looked at you with an irritated face, mostly directed to the receipts. "Oh...then I guess we won't be able to go to the movies today?" He froze. "Well based from the little souvenir Beel brought I guess I can't. I need to pay these off and record his damn debt. I'm sorry... I swear Beel is gonna face my whip when I see him!!! Receipts and a cancelled date!! Beelzebub you piece of s-" Bael's eyes were filled with rage as he crumpled a handful of receipts. He inhaled, calming himself down. "I guess I failed you again huh, sorry sweetie. Really. I'm sorry for being busy." He rubbed the back of his neck while apologizing profusely. "No!! It's fine! Really, it's a good thing so that I don't get to see to many people...yk they always call you 'your majesty'" you sheepishly said, blushing. You then hang out in Bael's office while Bael was raging and signing documents and calling stores that Beel came last night.

👑Like Beel, he knows whether you're upset because of your scent. He doesn't shamelessly sniff you in public like beel, but he knows how you feel because of his sense of smell and observation.

👑Opposite to beel, he likes the relationship nice and slow.

There are two types of how people act with their favorite food: Eat it fast and get more, or eat it slowly and savor it. Bael is the later. He lets you take your time and get used to the weird life in Abyssos, where it was common to see naked people fucking in alleyways. He never pushed you into anything extreme, one reason is he's always busy and another is, he wanted to take your relationship similar to his favorite food, he wants to savor it til the end.

👑He was pretty insecure with other couples the way he was treating you.

"Don't you think my king is amazing? He's a bit peculiar but everyone in Abyssos likes him" Bael says as he was signing papers. "Hmm yeah I think so too" You were on the couch, playing on your phone. "Don't think you'd rather date my king than me?" Bael stopped signing the documents in front of him, waiting for your response. "Huh? Why would I?" You looked at him, a bit shocked. "Well maybe because he's hotter? He's more amazing? And I'm just, Bael. I'm not him. I-" He somehow sounded a bit pained. "Why would I do that? I like Bael not Beelzebub. I like you for you, not because you're similar to his Majesty, Beel." You didn't usually speak up, but you felt the need to do so. "Thanks sweetest." He smiled and went to the couch.

👑Sometimes shy to admit but he wants to sniff your sweat in your legs.

You went home after jogging. You were a bit sweaty and somehow Bael smell your sweat in your armpits and legs. "H-hey" Bael said, trying to be calm, while he's becoming a bit red. "Are you okay?" You approached him and put a hand on his forehead. "You're heating up...." you added. "I-I can smell you" Bael have a hard time breathing and he's becoming red. "Pardon?" you tilt your head "You smell delicious." Bael was full blown horny and pounced on you. Let's just say you couldn't walk the next day and he apologized ;).

Masterlist

[galactic-rhea]

It's ranting hours sunday for me: Y' know, I think when people complain soooo much about Padmé getting with Anakin, they're failing to see a lot of things. BUT ESPECIALLY...That it was her choice, and if speaks a lot of her character and personality.

She was already done dirty by the movies by getting so many deleted scenes, but then if you try to take away the agency she had on marrying a human disaster or her choices, like her forgiveness/understanding, it's actually undermining and flattening her character.

The fact is that she's actually very similar to Anakin, she's stubborn, deeply traumatized, compromises a lot for the sake of others and loves beyond reasoning. We, the audience, know that Anakin will become Darth Vader and one of the most iconic villains of history; so everything he does can be seem as a red flag that really isn't there.

From Padmé's POV, Anakin has done terrible things, but it's capable of incredible acts of love and compassion. They're in circumstances that aren't normal at all, she was queen at 14, and he was born a slave and joined the space wizard monks and his normal is kill or be killed. Our modern and omniscient POV can't be applied onto them because there's no point of comparison in this sci-fi-shakespearen tragedy-soap-opera-fantasy.

Besides...she was actually right in the end, and I don't believe is "feminist" or progressive to take away a big part of her core personality, that actually had repercussions in the whole story, and make her out to be either unaware and naive of marrying a monster, or (the worst one, imo) being jedi-mind-tricked-brainwashed-abused by her husband.

The "right, correct, girlboss and queen" actitude does more damage than help, leave Padmé to be a person. A person who wanted to have a fairytale romance with some guy who would fight for her and makes her laugh.

Also, the hell why you wanna blame her for something Anakin does, come on. That's a whole other can of worms, though. My point is, that trying to avoid or re-work-or re-contextualize the fact that she chose Anakin despite him literally telling her about murdering a whole village, is actually changing a big chunk of her personality traits.

She was a child queen, then a politician at the edge of an inminent war, manipulated by the same guy that groomed Anakin into a massive murderer, saw her people being taken into camps, had assasination attempts weekly and had to rip off of her individualism by becoming a public figure, giving up her sense of being a person by having several almost identical decoys, she had to stop being just Padmé to be Queen and then Senator Amidala and she did all of that showing little to no emotion.

Then Anakin does all what she herself had to rip off of her in order to be a politician: Honest, passionate, and able to show emotions; like love or anger.

She has morals and she represents democracy and justice, in a way. But I fully believe that inside her she had the same passionate anger and love capable of burning the galaxy that we know Anakin had, which makes them different sides of the same coin, and I think she realized that. Anakin perhaps didn't , as he never stopped of seeing himself as a slave and therefore inferior, whereas he held Padmé very highly, but I think Padmé saw them both as equals. She didn't have a "I can fix him" mentality, she had a "We're the same, we're both lonely, confused, hurting and scared of losing everything. And if he's like me, then I know he can do the right thing for love."

In other words: She was as insane as her husband, she only seems normal because she wasn't put into the monk warrior order and groomed by the devil for over a decade. (And I don't mean insane as, 'she's crazy for loving a murderer' harley quinn style, I just meant it on a daring, hopeless romantic and tenacious way)

[bitethedevil]

I swear, I’m minutes away from pulling out a giant bulletin board and covering it in pieces of string that connect Rafael to every single event in the game. I feel like a crazy person, but I know that he basically spiderwebbed most of the plot together.



Goddamn it, anon (said lovingly). Now I feel like making my own too. Because I swear, he pops up all over the place, even just for stuff that’s not even plot relevant.

Spot the Devil: Raphael's Involvement in the plot

I’ll start out with letters and books I’ve found that made me go “hmmmm”.

Letter in the Harpy Nest (Maybe)

When you’ve saved Mirkon he mentions something about a nest nearby. If you get to it there is a ring, a journal, and a letter. The letter is what made me go “hmm”. You can read the full thing here. Basically, a guy named Edmund tells wife/girlfriend that she doesn’t have to worry about someone named Maggie Two-Fingers anymore, because he has settled a debt. To pay off said debt, he makes a deal with a cambion and becomes a warlock:

”[…] I took the deal the cambion offered. I'm not going to say I had no choice, because that would be a lie. But I don't regret it. I'm a new man. I feel strong for the first time in my life. Aside from being awoken in the middle of the night by the smell of sulphur (he likes to drop by to 'see how everything is going') I have no complaints […]”

Now, there was a journal too, but I don’t believe the two things were related, even though the journal talks about a devil too. From what I can see, the journal is an easter egg for a campaign called ‘Tomb of Annihilation’. Besides, Edmund is going to Icewind Dale and the campaign takes place in Chult.

It just makes sense to me if its Raphael. We know he hangs out near the grove because we get jumpscared by him before going to this area. It could be our boy and with how much he pops up constantly it wouldn’t surprise me.

A Pleasurable Deal (Maybe)

You can pry this theory from my cold dead hands: Raphael was involved in making this play. It stinks of him.

So, A Pleasurable Deal is an erotic play. The plot isn’t completely written out, but a cambion, who is named Carlisle in the play, is involved.

“Carlisle: Weep not, young man, though free your wife has fled,

And comfort found in comrade's arms and bed.

She licks her lips and cries his name, oh my!

And now you seek to be the apple of her eye?”

Carlisle basically helps a man named Robert get a bigger dick, or…something along those lines. The ”apple of her eye” line is just so Raphael. The whole thing is, to be honest. In the A Pleasurable Deal: The Shocking Truth, it’s revealed that the author sold her soul to make it:

“Interviewer: So .. what was your deal?

Harp: I beg your pardon?

Interviewer: In fact, this was your directorial debut, wasn't it? You couldn't even get published in the tabloid 'Baldur's Bash' before this play came out. Did you honestly trade your soul for an erotic play?

Harp: I- all right, we're done here.”

I mean, come on. This is so him. It’s right up his alley.

Devil Don’t Rhyme

This is a book you can find in the Devil’s Den. Devil Don’t Rhyme is definitely about him:

“[This is a heroic fantasy in verse form, told in the first person by a bold poet who challenges a devil (clearly modelled on Raphael) to an improvised poetry contest to win back the soul of his lover. The following couplet has been circled in red ink.]

'If the line doesn’t scan,' the devil sneers, 'you forfeit your soul and end in tears.' / 'Ha! I’ll keep my time and make my rhyme, with vim and snap and no "down came the claw" crap.'”

Which is just so fucking funny to me. He has been seething and underlining the parts that prove it’s about him.

Alright, onto actual events: Netheril

Raphael was there when Netheril fell. He told us in the Devil’s Den. He has been searching for the Crown of Karsus ever since. He saw the entirety of Karsus’s fuck-up, but didn’t manage to snatch up the Crown of Karsus itself. We do know, however, that he has other Netherese artifacts (the Archivist says so). The Regalia of Karsus were three objects and Raphael has at least one, meaning that if Raph gets the crown, he has a much bigger chance at actually controlling it and using it like it's supposed to be used. This might also be why Mephistopheles hasn't used it: he doesn't have the other artifacts to properly harness its powers.

There are also theories that he has been skulking about and trying to find it after. There’s a really well written theory by @firlionemoontav that connects him to Lenore from the Arcane Tower in the Underdark. He has left no stone unturned.

Orpheus and Vlaakith

I learned about this from an amazing theory post made by @certifieddilfenjoyer

When you go to the Astral Plane, near Orpheus, there is this Githyanki slate that you can find. It depicts Vlaakith making a deal with a Devil, “his face twisted with wry charm”, for the Astral prism. Yeah, Orpheus’ imprisonment? Raphael helped with that. He even taunts Orpheus while he waits for us to approach him and says something about him looking good in chains or something along those lines (kinky old man yaoi).

And honestly, it makes perfect sense as to why he has the hammer then. The hammer has multiple purposes, but in About Creation of the Orphic Hammer he mentions it as “insurance policy”:

“The Hammer is not a weapon, it is an insurance policy. Its function is specific, but its utility is boundless. No chains forged by infernal hand can withstand its power, for its core is a metalifferous compound combining the purest of essence of all Nine hells. If I should ever need to liberate the prisoners held in the Iron City of Dis, to shatter the vaults of Nargus, or even to free the child of Gith, my hammer will be equal to the task.”

Makes good sense because what he has done with the Astral Prism is a pretty big deal and hard to undo otherwise.

Moonrise Towers, the Gauntlet of Shar and Astarion

So, Raphael makes a deal with the architect of Moonrise Towers, who you also see wandering around the House of Hope. The architect gives up his soul in exchange for Raphael ending Ketheric’s army.

To do that, he sends Yurgir who is tasked with killing every last justiciar. Raphael then makes a deal with one of the justiciars who he then turns into a bunch of rats so that Yurgir can’t fulfill his contract.

We then help Yurgir or kill him, and Raphael helps us with Astarion’s scars. (This is just me theorizing from here) I find it kind of interesting that Raphael seems to know so much about Astarion. You get the feeling that he has obviously done his research on all of the companions, but with Astarion he makes that nasty “you’ve kept your clothes on this entire time? How unlike you” comment. Astarion would be such an easy target to go after, which makes me believe that Raph definitely knew beforehand about Astarion AND Mephistopheles’ deal with Cazador, but he hasn’t been able to pettily do something about it before the things that happen in BG3. But he has kept an eye on it. He can’t be seen defying his father like that directly, after all. I just find it hard to believe that Raph wouldn't jump at the business opportunity of 7000 desperate vampires hiding in Baldur's Gate. Like he definitely knows.

Gortash

Raphael bought Gortash from his parents when he was a kid, and Gortash eventually got out. It’s quite possible that Gortash only knew about the Crown of Karsus because of Raphael. He even went through Raphael’s house to steal the crown (and probably took a portal from there to Cania).

Might also be the only reason that he would ever make a deal with Zariel. He knows the Hells and how they work. In a way its even more of a “fuck you” that he goes to Zariel because she is far above Raphael as she is the Archdevil of Avernus (and thus she is sort of Raph’s boss). We also don't know what Gortash gets in return for handing Karlach to Zariel. It's speculated that it has something to do with the construction of the Steel Watch, but it wouldn't surprise me if peace from Raphael was a part of it too.

A world without Raphael

So, basically: had Raphael not been there, Orpheus would be free and a whole people would have had very different lives under someone else than the Vlaakiths, because Orpheus would have rebelled and told everyone what she did to Gith (his mother). We wouldn’t have had the Astral Prism to protect us, but on the other hand, we might not even have had the whole tadpole business to deal with anyway if Gortash didn’t know where the Crown of Karsus was. The whole thing could literally have been avoided.

(Thank you for the ask <3)

[icarusredwings]

The Wolverine has always had a handler.

Even before he knew he needed one.

Most of his life, he's been used, a tool, a weapon, a hero, a soilder, a special agent, a devils bergade, a bounty hunter, a mindless numb man waiting for someone to tell him what to do.

The wolverine needed orders.

Logan needed praise for completing said tasks.

The Wolverine needed to be taught what was socially acceptable, what his place in the world was, how to behave, and what was an appropriate way to act.

Ever since he could remember, He's had a handler.

Someone to engage his large curious mind and uneasy set of emotions much larger then himself. At first it was his mother, bless her heart; but she should have known she was far too much for her to handle.

Even as a young boy Logan would shy away from social graces and watch the field mice a bit TOO much for any wee boy his age.

After that, he had Victor, something of an older cousin to show him the ropes- literally- seeing as he taught him how to trap, hunt, skin his meat, and even cook it - though Vic liked his raw, Logan found it much better at least heated. Victor taught him many things, one -yes- how to fight, but the other loyalty. No matter how many times they were at each others throats, he'd never let anyone else hurt him. That is what good friends did, right? Not let you get hurt?

Victor taught him how to build a shelter, how to deal with the pain of his claws and unsheath the anger deeply hidden inside of him. He taught him how to fish, in a sense, but at the same time always brought Logan a fish if he failed to catch any himself.

"You're in your own in this world, runt." He would say, biting into the fish on a stick as Logan's stomach growled, his eyes lingering on the extra one on the fire. He had been fully prepared to go hungry that night, but every time Victor would sigh and give him the food.

"..But youll always have me. Here. Take it. But tomorrow you better catch us both one. Got it?" He'd say, watching with a small smirk as Logan snatched the stick, begining to devour and debone it with his teeth.

"They don't care for people like us. They would have let you starve. But I wont. We have to look out for our kind, Jimmy." He taught him.

"Humans can't be trusted. Ever."

This was until the army. Specifically Stryker. Even then though, Victor did not trust him much, rather seen him as a free source of money food and shelter for their already every day skills of killing and tracking.

Though, Logan never felt right with them. He felt like he should be doing more. He felt like he should be helping people, not killing them.

Victor had told him it was the only thing he would ever be good for.

"You're wrong!" He growled at him, finally breaking away from him, deciding that maybe he could be his own handler. Perhaps that was the right awnser. Perhaps making his own choices and decisions was the right thing to do.

It didn't take long for this to change, simply becoming someone elses dog to put in a cage. A physical one at that.

The wolverine would be a liar if he said he hated it, if he disliked the fighting. But see this is what scared him. What if Victor was right? What if he liked hurting people too much?

After this, When Charles finds him all drugged up. He helped calm his withdrawl, gave him plenty of food, his own room, clothes, and no expectation other then to not be hostile towards the others in the home, Logan starts to wonder if this is too good to be true. He hasn't been in a mansion since... well since he was a child. (God how much he hated how big that place was before it all went to shit.)

And hearing Chuck speak to him like he was a person and not something to control? It erased what ever Victor has told him about.

Yes, Charles wasn't 'human' persay, he was like them. A mutant. But he wasn't an obvious one. No, no, Charles was much more terrifying then any human Logan has ever encountered, though... he found peace in that. The idea of having a place to come back too afted his brain has done convinced him he was being caged up again.

No, Chuck wasn't like that. If anything, Logan WANTED to take orders from that bald man. He wanted to be told what to do, he wanted to help. Be better then what Victor said, And save people...

So tell me why Despite everything Charles has done for him, he left him? Had to go and die and leave Logan all alone. What he thought was his one true handler, Abandoned him with those who couldn't control him, not the way Charles could, guiding him with words and slight nudges instead of hot iron prods and chains.

Why the buzzing from the fan above them reminded him of the dragon flies that used to come into the old office.

Tell me, Why in the world as he laid here in the lap of some yapping idiot.. did he feel so safe? Curled up with his cheek on his leg, his fingers running through his hair and playing with the tuffs on each side.

Why Wade's chattering felt just as significant as the Beatles album that the billionaire would play a few times a month that drowned out the thoughts in his head.

He remembered those days fondly streatched out in the warm gaze of sunlight as it piles in, the old man at his desk, humming along as he worked on taxes or something else that made him more human then The Wolverine ever would be.

He didn't have patiance for such nonsense but he always did enjoy keeping Charles company. Whether it was lounging on the office chair or standing next to him all the time.

The wolverine would stand quiet and wait for orders. Wait to be told to do something. Wait for the Professor to come into danger so he could do his duty to protect him.

And now, here he is, sprawled out across a nasty couch, the moonlight batheing over his much thicker stomach then before, his grays filling his beard more then he would like, but was just finally glad to have been aging.

Logn has felt so lost for... well forever until Wade brought him home like a stray mutt. But him? The Wolverine? PURRING?? in a dingy new york flat?

The wolverine isn't supposed to be enjoying this time. He's supposed to be working. Survaying the apartment to keep his mate safe.

You must be mad. Or simply delusional enough to believe that this isn't what he wanted.

Logan wanted Wade to rub his stomach and play with his hair. He wanted those soft touches so badly, and now that he got them he felt like he was dreaming.

The Wolverine wanted Wade to give him orders, practically begging for them as he whined, sitting up when the man on the Tv started talking to him.

"An animals handler is just as important as the creature itself, even massive tons of these majestic sea creatures find friendliness in their handler. Handlers spend hours with these beautiful ocean mammals, feeding, washing, and taking care of them despite being so tiny, the handler can become a snack for this big Bulaga whale. Other handlers of ladys with claws bigger then some's length of their hand, train these curious big cats to entertain and comply to daily matiance. Do not let this fool you, the handler still has an imence love for their animal, feeding and cleaning up after them, yes but most of these 500 pound gals love a good pat on the behind, a way of praise and affection between the handler and their beloved. Keepers spend up to-"

Damn David Attenborough...

The handler on screen headbut the massive female siberian tiger, the tiger purring and holding the handler close with its claws as the handler laughed, praising her.

The Wolverine blinks, looking at Wade with wet eyes, expecting to be scolded. Was this how it was always supposed to be..? Was his handler supposed to care for him in that way?

"Logan? What's wrong, sweetheart?"

The tears fall as The Wolverine fights for Logans place, wanting to say something, but it gets caught behind his canines, never leaving his mouth.

"Aww.. come're, wolvie.. I didn't know you cared this much about tigers."

God, yes, finally. Orders.

Scooting closer, he lets Wade pamper him, kissing his tears away and hugs him tight.

Whimpering, Logan puts his head against Wade, smiling as, not Logan, but The Wolverine realizes..

He's found his forever Handler. One that wouldn't die on him and who gave him gentle touches of praise just for simple tasks like leaning further into his arms.

"Shhhh. It's okay. My big baby. Maybe tomorrow we can get you a tiger plushy?"

The wolverine nods, laughing under his breath. Oh Wade.. if only you understood.

This isn't about tigers.

[lastofthemadones]

Long Live Evil has me by the throat and I made a Key playlist

(I don't have a spotify account so it's on Youtube Music don't hate me) find it here

Take Me to Church - Hozier

Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies, I'll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife

2. I Love You Like an Alcoholic - The Taxpayers

One last kiss, I love you like an alcoholic, One last kiss, I love you like a statuette, One last kiss, I need you like I need a broken leg

3. Oceanographer's Choice - The Mountain Goats

Look at that, Would you look at that, We're throwing off sparks, What will I do when I don't have you, To hold onto in the dark?

4. Howl - Florence + The Machine

The saints can't help me now, the ropes have been unbound, I hunt for you with bloodied feet across the hallowed ground, And howl, Be careful of the curse that falls on young lovers, Starts so soft and sweet and turns them to hunters

5. From Eden - Hozier

Honey, you're familiar like my mirror years ago, Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on its sword, Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me I should know, I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door

6. Bad Things - Jace Everett

I don't know what you've done to me, But I know this much is true, I wanna do bad things with you

7. It Will Come Back - Hozier

Don't let me in with no intention to keep me, Jesus Christ, don't be kind to me, Honey, don't feed me, I will come back, It can't be unlearned, I've known the warmth of your doorways, Through the cold, I'll find my way back to you

8. Pumped Up Kicks - Foster The People

All the other kids with the pumped up kicks, You better run, better run outrun my gun

9. Hurt - Johnny Cash

Everyone I know goes away, In the end, And you could have it all, My empire of dirt, I will let you down, I will make you hurt

10. We Will Commit Wolf Murder - of Montreal

Something's terrorized my psyche to get even, Lately, you're the only human I believe in

11. Get Busy Living Or Get Busy Dying (Do Your Part To Save The Scene And Stop Going To Shows) - Fall Out Boy

I used to obsess over living, Now I only obsess over you

12. Fever - Magpie Cinema Club

Romeo loved Juliet, Juliet she felt the same, but when she put her arms around him, He said, "Julie baby you're to blame, Thou giveth fever"

13. Seven Devils - Florence + The Machine

See, I was dead when I woke up this morning, I'll be dead before the day is done, Before the day is done, And now all your love will be exorcised, And we will find you saying it's to be better now

14. Dust Bowl Dance - Mumford & Sons

There will come a time I will look in your eye, You will pray to the God that you always denied, Then I'll go out back, and I'll get my gun, I'll say, "You haven't met me, I am the only son"

15. Monster - Ron Pope

Make me a monster, Make me a beast, Prey on my weakness, Become my disease, I've been lovesick and empty, Cold and I'm trembling

16. Dirty Little Animals - Bones UK

It makes your blood run hot, It makes your spit taste sweet, It makes you feel more alive, Than you have ever been

[murderenjoyer]

Having a lot of madohomu feels rn

Homura loved Madoka so much that she chose to make the contract and become a magical girl despite knowing the consequences. Normally girls don't know what's going to happen, QB obviously doesn't tell them. And Homura made the active choice to become a magical girl anyway, knowing she would suffer, knowing she would turn into a monster that is eternally suffering and causing suffering to everyone around her, that she would ultimately die and be consumed. She chose that fate because she loved Madoka so much. Because she wanted to save her that much.

She spent 25 years (iirc) repeating the same month or so, over and over, suffering and fighting against a fate that seemed carved in stone. 25 years before she finally succumbed to despair. 25 years is the majority of time I've been alive. I can't imagine how horrible and disheartening and painful it had to have been to try as hard as she could, to fail over and over, to see all her plans and tactics and attempts dashed, to watch Madoka die over and over and over. 25 years! It took 25 years for her to finally, sadly, mournfully accept fate and give up. Her adoration for Madoka allowed her to swallow a quarter of a century of despair before she finally ran out of steam.

And when she turned into a witch, she built an entire artificial city just to spend time with Madoka. She created thousands, millions of artificial people just to make Madoka feel a sense of normalcy. She allowed Madoka's friends into the labyrinth because she knows how much Madoka loves her friends and her only priority, her only wish was to make Madoka comfortable and happy. Homura cares for her friends too of course, but not like she cares for Madoka. Had Madoka not been in the picture, she would not have expended the energy required to pull her friends in and wipe their memories. She did that for Madoka's sake.

And when Madoka regains godhood and comes to collect her, Homura, at this point completely insane, is still so wholly dedicated to Madoka, she needs to be with Madoka so strongly, that she doesn't even care if they're opposing forces anymore. She doesn't care if Madoka hates her. She doesn't care if Madoka considers her an enemy. She doesn't care if she becomes the devil to Madoka's god.

She's so in love with Madoka, she's so obsessed with Madoka, she yearns for Madoka so strongly that she rips Madoka's psyche in half. She rewrites reality into a perfect world where she's not even Madoka's friend anymore - its not about that anymore. It's not about being with her anymore. It's not about spending time together anymore. It's simply Homura's concentrated need for Madoka's presence in her world. It's about being able to give Madoka a happy life without tragedy or suffering. She doesn't care about Madoka in relation to herself anymore. She only cares about Madoka's well-being, her happiness, her joy.

That is so fucking romantic to me. I'm drowning in otp emotions every time I think about it. I can't think of another love story so intense, so raw. It's beautiful.

[margotw10bis]

Crashing On Crush.JJK 7 [m]

crush!Jungkook x reader

Genre: smut; series; romance; angst

Words: 4.6k

Synopsis: What happens when your first encounter with your crush is Jungkook seeing your ass?

Warnings: sexual tension; broken heart; Calvin Klein JK (yeah, it's a warning)

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As much as you hate it, you do find Jungkook handsome and your heart has been pounding as soon as you noticed him. And you hate that you missed him - the last time you saw him was two weeks ago in the club. You are surprised to see him but also to see he has cut his hair. You can't help but missing his puffy shoulder-length hair and you want to slap you in the face for that thought. His black locks are now shorter in a mullet-style hair cut with a bang and are lightly curled. But gosh, he looks good. A little too good for your heart's sake.

You forget to how to breath when Jungkook stops a few meters from you. You feel your cheeks burning as well as your whole body and it's not because of the hot and suffocating July of Seoul because the A/C is on inside the art gallery. It's definitely because of Jeon Jungkook, the devil manifesting in a handsome man figure.

"Hi, uhm, I have an appointment with Aecha" He says after clearing his throat

"Follow me"

Even if you invite him to walk with you, it looks like you want to run away from him. Fortunately, you quickly arrive to Aecha's office. You knock and enter, Jungkook by your side. Your colleague offers him a way better smile than you.

"Jungkook, hi! Nice to meet you in person! We are so happy to work with you" Aecha's voice is warm and magically relaxes Jungkook

"Same here"

He tries to sound cheerful. He is really happy and proud that the gallery has approached him for the project, it will surely help him for his career but he does feel tensed to see you. He can't deny he hesitated to accept the job but then he saw it as an opportunity to set the record straight with you. He has been so grumpy that even Mina has stopped asking for his attention and let him work in his office at home. Jungkook has imagined hundred of scenarios of what happened between you and the guy after you left and every single one of them ended with you in his arms. By anger and frustration, he even broke his Apple Pencil and had to buy a new one.

"I am so sorry but I don't have time to talk details with you personally" Aecha continues, genuinely annoyed "But don't worry, Y/N is very professional and I'm sure you'll get along"

Your eyes widen and you throw distraught gazes at Aecha. 'Please, don't make me do that!' You silently beg her. But she doesn't get it or chooses to ignore it as she hands you the file. You do know the artists and the theme of the exhibition, as well as other details about the events related but you don't want to work with Jungkook. You know he is supposed to provide different visuals and supports, which means that you are going to deal with him for days. You're not sure your heart can handle it and you fear your determination to hate him will fail you - to be true, it has already began when he first appeared in the lobby.

Yet, you have no choice but to take the damn file with shaky hands and ask Jungkook to follow you in the meeting room.

A feeling of pain and jealousy fills you when you realize that his girlfriend has got to see him everyday and you have no doubt that he has looked damn hot every single day of these two weeks. Even now, in front of you, he is ridiculously handsome in his matching Calvin Klein denim jacket and pants, a white t-shirt finishing his perfect look. You can't help but wondering if his underwear is also signed CK, which makes you blush. Jungkook is fucking hot like that - would you dare to say that you are aroused by the absence of his usual all-black style?

You shake your head to erase those filthy thoughts and you sit down. You open and read the file, which gives you a good excuse to not look at Jungkook.

"Did you sleep with him?"

Jungkook's voice is neutral despite his pounding heart. He couldn't help but ask you. Even if it breaks his already broken heart, he has to know. His look-the-other-way part argues that if he knows, it'll get easier to let you go.

You immediately look up and open your mouth but no sound escapes it. Just by seeing you blushing hard, Jungkook knows. His fists clench and he is angry. Not at you, but at himself. You left with another man, you slept with another man because he pushed you away. He tries to convince himself that the pinch in his heart is due to his bruised man pride but deep down he knows that it's his feelings for you that have been rattled.

"It's none of your business" You eventually decide to answer "Let's not get personal and stick to a professional behavior"

Jungkook doesn't say anything but nods, poking on his inner cheek with his tongue.

Weirdly enough, you both concentrate on work and are able to have a peaceful conversation. Some details are discussed and Jungkook notes some ideas that get through his mind while you give him more informations.

"Can I see the art pieces? It'll help to get fully in the right mood" Jungkook asks at some point

"Sure"

You both walk through the art gallery and you can see that Jungkook truly appreciates the architecture of the building. You see his doe eyes sparkle with inspiration and you can practically see all the ideas that are currently filling his brain. Witnessing his passion melts your heart.

You enter the code of the storage room and motion Jungkook to step in. You explain that you haven't receive yet all the pieces but you add that he can look at them of the website of the gallery. His back facing you, a sketchbook and a pen in his hands, he is already quickly sketching a few visuals. You are quite intrigued by how fast his brain works and you move forward gingerly. You stand on your tiptoe to look upon his large shoulder and sneak on his sophisticate drawings.

"Wow" You whisper, almost in his ear, unintentionally

Jungkook was so focus on his work that he didn't notice you, but when you opened your mouth he startles and turns his head to your face suddenly. You are so close that your breathes are mixing. His eyes look right into yours but can't help going down to yours pretty lips. He gulps, a vivid memory of your several passionate kisses coming to his mind. He knows how you taste and he is dying to feel it again on his tongue. He wets his pierced lips with his tongue and the move attracts your glance too. A spontaneous wave of arousal goes straight to your lower belly.

Thankfully - or not -, staying this long on your tiptoe causes a cramp in your left calf. You immediately step back and wince, holding on the painful leg.

"What's going on?" Jungkook asks you, alarmed

"Cramp" You hiss

It doesn't take long to Jungkook to kneel down and massage your lower leg. You blush hard but convince yourself that it's due to the pain and not to Jungkook's warm palms on your skin. But why do you mentally praise you for wearing a yellow wrap dress and not your usual slacks?

"It's okay, you don't have to-" You speak up, weakly trying to push his hands away

"Let me do that for you"

His eye is so intense that you only manage to gulp and nod, letting Jungkook rubbing your calf to relax the muscles. You hiss as his fingers palp your aching leg, instinctively grabbing on his large shoulders to not fall. Feeling your hands on him, even through the thick fabric of his denim jacket and under this circumstances, Jungkook feels good. So fucking good. His whole body, that has been tensed for weeks now, softens under your touch. It's like he was physically missing something that your hands give him back. Someway, it's the first time you wish your cramp was lasting longer.

"It's gone" You say unsurely and, with regret from both sides, Jungkook stands up

"I'm sorry-"

"Don't. Please don't" You close your eyes in pain, not willing to remember once again what he did because you surely didn't forget

You hate him for breaking your heart but you don't hate him. Quite the opposite actually. You still love him, so fucking much. You can't change the past and you surely can't be best friend with him but you can make this professional relationship work. You want it for the gallery but also for Jungkook because you still think he is very talented and deserves the contract. That's why you take a deep breathe and start talking:

"Look, I know things have been... weird between us. Let's just put that aside and concentrate on work. I really want to feel good here so let's not make things more awkward. I think it would be nice if we could be colleagues"

Jungkook looks at you for a moment, surprised. He doesn't really know what to say when there are so many things that he wants to say - if that makes any sense. He runs a hand through his fresh cut hair.

"I'll work hard then, for you"

He doesn't specify if 'you' refers to the gallery and all your colleagues and artists involved or just you. But your heart doesn't care about the difference and skips a beat. You try to put a - weird - smile on your face to look relax.

"Welcome onboard then, Mr. Jeon"

————

Day 2 of working with Jungkook and you have to say that you are surprised how things go smoothly. You and Jungkook really get along - on a professional level - and your two brains seem to share the same ideas and vision of the project.

When he went home, Jungkook went straight to his home office and started sketching some visuals. On the one hand, he wants to work slowly only to get the chance to spend more time with you. But on the other hand, he has so many ideas for the different supports. The project clearly excites him and he hasn't been this motivated for a long time. Moreover, your cute yellow dress of the day seemed to be another reminder that you are like sunshine is his life and that everything looks better when you are around.

This morning, he has joined you in the same meeting room and gave you a cup of latte - he knows it's your favorite beverage - that he has bought on its way to the gallery. The sweet gesture didn't go unnoticed by your weak heart and your cheeks did redden. As soon as you two have sat down, Jungkook put his sketchbook and graphic tablet on the desk and explained the different concepts. You were so impressed by his work and how much he has done in just one evening. You couldn't help but being worried that he had not slept well and the dark circles under his beautiful eyes proved you no wrong.

You don't even notice it was lunch time until you hear a knock on the door. You look up and meet a sweet and cute familiar face.

"I didn't want to bother you but I've been waiting for fifteen minutes so I thought that you might have forgotten me"

Jongseob seems embarrassed and is blushing hardly. Your heart immediately melts and your smile widens. This doesn't go unnoticed by Jungkook who wonders how many men have stolen your heart. He can't help but feeling jealous. When will his possessiveness stop? Especially when you're not his.

"It's okay. Actually, I lost track of time. Please come in, Seobi"

You get up and give a big hug to Jongseob. The young man is quite impressed by Jungkook. His black outfit has returned and his tattoos are showing up under his oversize t-shirt. He does look intimidating and Jongseob feels a wave of protectiveness towards you, hoping that the stranger didn't give you a hard time.

You have no idea of what is going on in Jongseob's brain and you turn back to Jungkook.

"Let's meet up in two days so you have time to make the changes we've talked about. Then, we will show everything to Aecha" You say with a smile and Jungkook simply nods.

You notice the way he is staring at your young friend and realize that they don't know each other.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't introduce you-" You are cut off by Jongseob

"I'm Kim Jongseob"

You are surprised by his confident and quite cold tone. It's so not like him. You even feel his arm easily wrapping around your shoulders. When did he get this tall? You look at him, asking him with your eyes what the hell he is doing. But Jongseob is completely focus on the black-hair man.

"Jeon Jungkook"

Jongseob's eyes widen and immediately turn to you. Your face expression confirms what he thinks: it's the man who broke your heart. If you didn't say a word on your Graduation Day, you couldn't lie when a few days later Jongseob has asked you about how it went when you confessed your feelings to your crush. Even if you tried really hard to not cry in front of him, you couldn't stop a few tears. Jongseob was so heartbroken for you and has spent the day with you at your place, eating ice-creams and watching Disney movies.

The body of your usual so cute friend tenses immediately and he leaves your shoulders to step in front of you, protectively. His eyes narrow when he gazes at Jungkook.

"I hope he hasn't done anything to you" He says with his jaw clenched, talking to you but looking at Jungkook

A scoff escapes Jungkook's lips. Who the hell is this kid? He doesn't know anything about him and yet, he is judging him. Only if he knew that at his age, Jungkook was... No, it's better if he doesn't know, otherwise you would know too. And he surely doesn't want you to know.

"Jongseob" You say softly, a hand on his shoulder "Jungkook is working with me, everything is fine"

"Can't someone else deal with him? Why it has to be you?" His voice is more gentle now and he is looking at you, finally

"No, and it's okay. I promise"

"What are you going to do about it, uh?"

Your eyes widen in surprise while Jungkook smirks and then pokes his tongue in his inner cheek in a provocative way. He doesn't even know why he opened his mouth in the first place. Maybe he was just tired of everyone treating him like shit or maybe he wanted you to know that your little guy couldn't compete with him. 'Stupid fucking ego' he thinks.

"What did you say?" Jongseob responds aggressively, taking a step further and Jungkook does the same

"I said, what are you fucking going to do about it?" Jungkook articulates each single word, his jaws clenched

You start to panic and take place between the two men.

"Stop it now, the both of you" You try to be firm but your voice is a little shaky

"You were right, he's a fucking asshole" Jongseob goads

"What did you say?" Jungkook barks this time, ready to throw punches in this little fucker's face

"Jongseob!" You shout "Go wait outside, now"

You are so tensed that your whole body is shaking with adrenaline. What are you going to do if they start fighting? But you release the air of your lungs when Jongseob does as you say. You look at Jungkook to try to know what he is thinking but his features are too neutral, except for his gritted teeth.

"Jungkook, I-I never said that" You try after a moment of silence

"It's okay" He sighs, trying to relax the tension in his body "Even if you said it, you had every reason"

You stand in front of him, not knowing what to do. You are unsettled when a little sneer escapes Jungkook's mouth. You look at him, questioning him with your eyes.

"At least you have people to protect you"

"Jungkook-"

"No, it's okay. I see you on Friday with the finished visuals and support designs"

Jungkook grabs his stuff and goes away, leaving you breathless and heart pounding.

————

"Noona, I'm sorry"

Jongseob has spent the whole lunch apologizing but you haven't said a word. You are so disappointed in his behavior but you are also destabilized by the way you feel angry at your friend for attacking Jungkook. You shouldn't feel that way, it's true that Jungkook broke your heart but why do you still want your friends to have a good impression of him? It doesn't make any fucking sense and you sigh in frustration.

"Stop apologizing. What you did was wrong Jongseob"

"I know but he... he was just there and he broke your heart! Are you really okay working with him?!"

You take the time to think. Are you okay with it? Honestly, yes. And more honestly, you are happy to work with him. You wish the reason of that was because Jungkook works well but it's not: the reason is that you want to be with him, in anyway possible.

"Yes, so please stop. Maybe you don't want to hear it or you don't understand but Jungkook is nice"

"How can you say that?!" Jongseob gasps

"He is, really. What he did to me was wrong but beside that, he has been really nice to me"

And it's true. Objectively, the cheating-on-his-girlfriend-with-you part put aside, Jungkook has been nice to you. The two days you have spent working with him showed you a new face of him: the passionate yet so considering of other's opinions side. He has carefully listened to you, has taken the time to explain to you technical things about designs and has worked hand-in-hand with you to provide the perfect visuals. Even beside that, the morning coffee and the way he has hold the chair for you to sit down or the way he has turn off the A/C when he noticed you were cold, proves he is a good person. Maybe a little selfishly too, you want to believe that you have fallen for a good guy and not a shit head so the whole story wasn't you being completely wrong about him.

"Look, I'm a big girl. I know you're worried but everything's fine, Seobi" You smile at Jongseob, trying to calm him down

"Okay..." He sighs "But if he tries anything, please tell me and I swear I'll punch him in the face, just for him to know he can't mess with you"

Your heart softens at his pouty face and you promise. You know Jongseob just wants to protect his Noona but deep down you know Jungkook won't try to hurt you again.

————

You haven't heard of Jungkook until he shows up on Friday for your expected meeting. You have sweaty hands, not knowing how will be things between the two of you. You give him an unsure smile when you welcome him and you feel released that Jungkook is back to his old and nice self. He shows you the final project and everything is perfect. You compliment his work and you may notice a slight blush on his cheeks.

You waste no time and you two head up to Aecha's office so she can approve, what she definitely does. Your colleague is really impressed and praises the both of you. Your chest is full of pride that you managed the situation. You are really excited to be more involved in one of the gallery's projects.

To celebrate your success, you invite Jungkook at a nearby coffee. It doesn't surprise you anymore that Jungkook orders you a latte but it's appealing to your weak and soft heart. Coffees in hands, you sit down at a table.

"I'm so happy that your visuals have been approved! I can't wait to see the posters in real life and on the big screens of the gallery!" You tell him excited, which makes him giggle.

"I'm glad too. Tell me if you need help with the printer guy, I know that sometimes they can be a little hard to handle and delay things until you lose your mind"

"I'll sure do"

You feel so good joking with Jungkook. It feels like before you discovered about Mina, back when everything was so natural and delightful between you two. A small wave of nostalgia washes over your body and a small part of you wishes you didn't know about the girlfriend. However, the bigger part of you feels better to know that he didn't cheat on his girlfriend with you more than that.

"I have to tell you something"

Jungkook's serious tone and face make you stressed. You wonder what other bomb he is going to throw at you and how you'll manage to survive. 'Please, tell me there is no other secret girlfriends!' You pray

"Mina" He starts and your heart sinks by hearing the name, you still feel so guilty towards her even if you didn't know "She is not my girlfriend"

What the hell?!

Your eyes almost roll of your sockets by surprise. You are speechless. Does he lie? But he is looking straight into your eyes and you don't see anything but pain. But if she is not his girlfriend, why did he lie about lying to you? It doesn't make sense!

"She is my best friend, well at least back in Busan"

"But, why?" Is all you manage to say, your brain is completely upside down

"It's just an old habit of us, saying to other people we're dating. When we were younger, we were so close that most people thought that we were actually a couple. At some point, it was kind of a joke to confirm it"

Jungkook's nostalgic smile is not happy but quite sad and your heart squeezes. You wonder what caused him such pain but you don't want to push him.

"Maybe, back then, there were more than friendly feelings between us but it's not the case anymore. I just want you to know that nothing happened between Mina and I"

"Why'd you tell me that?"

Jungkook's eyes grow big in surprise. He doesn't really know why he tells you the truth. Perhaps he just doesn't want you to hurt because of this, because of him.

"I don't know..." He sighs "I just wanted you to know"

You don't know what you feel. On the one hand, you are relived that he didn't cheat on his girlfriend with you, but on the other hand, you are still heartbroken because he has still rejected you - and the reason was not him having a girlfriend but just not wanting to be with you. And that hurts like hell.

Jungkook looks at you with his big doe eyes, biting on his bottom lip, while he waits for you to say something. But honestly, you don't know what to say. So he keeps going:

"I haven't seen her in years but she came up to me. She needed some help. Things are-were complicated. I'm sorry if I hurt you, I really didn't want that"

"I understand" You don't but what else could you say?

"Y/N" He says gently, grabbing your hand at the other side of the table "I am really, really sorry"

The warmth of his hand goes straight to your heart and cheeks. Why does he have to do that? It's so hard not to fall for him when he acts like that! You want to hug him and tell him you forget everything as long as he is with you. But you can't do that, so you smile instead.

"I wish I could go back and do things right with you. Maybe... maybe we could be friends or something?"

Jungkook winces at the way his thoughts have turned into words. It sounds so dumb and it's not really what he wanted to say. He wanted to ask you if you would accept to see him again, like before. Like when you were supposed to have a date at the Lotte aquarium.

"I guess we could be friends" You say in a small voice, almost a whisper

Jungkook's heart jumps in his chest and he knows he'll try everything to make it up to you. But first, he has to deal with Mina.

————

Since you have done a great job with the communication campaign with Jungkook, Aecha sends you over to meet the print firm. You are walking around in Seocho, a district of Seoul, but take the time to follow the Han River boardwalk. The heat and humidity is almost unbearable but the view is so beautiful. The sun is mirroring on the water. You close your eyes, feeling the D Vitamin entering your body. You hum in contentment.

Nevertheless, the universe couldn't let you in peace for five minutes. Your blood runs cold when a familiar but non welcoming face appears right in front of you. Mina. You don't really know how to act in front of her now that you know she isn't really Jungkook's girlfriend.

"Hi" You tell her with an unsure voice

"Hi, Y/N right?"

Mina's smile is bright but not really friendly. Something in her behavior makes you uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry, I can't stay long, Jungkook is waiting for me at home" She takes a dig at you

Her little scornful tone drives you crazy. Before you can even think properly, you open your mouth:

"Jungkook told me the truth. You are not really together"

For one second, Mina seems unsettled but she hides it quickly. You feel your heart beating faster and your hands freezing, just as if you were ready for a fight. It might not be a physical one but it will surely be punches with words.

"Did he?"

You stay silent, waiting for her to set the mood. You don't have hard feelings for her. You could be friends, if she wants to.

"Look, you seem like a nice girl" Although it doesn't sound like a compliment in her mouth "But I'm not sure you are the good person for Kookie"

"I think he's old enough to decide for himself"

"We might not be an official couple but we do share something special. We've been best friends for years, we have been through so many things, you won't ever be able to understand. I know him but I'm not sure you can say the same"

You are taken aback.

"I-I do know him" You sound less confident than you wanted

"Oh, really? Did he tell you about his past?" Mina smirks and you frown, confirming what she was thinking "I just don't want you to be hurt, Y/N. Jungkook and I are meant to be together. It might take some time but it will happen eventually. If you stay in between, you'll only get your heart broken"

Your watery eyes blur your vision. You don't know how Mina manages to do it but her words are so sharp that you could swear she is telling the truth. Maybe it's a result of her magnetic aura.

"I love him"

It's the final blow for you. An intense squeeze hits your cardiac muscle. You don't even know who you are anymore. You have read too many books, you have seen too many movies not to know. All along, you thought you were the main character of the story. But you're not. You're the second female lead in Jungkook's story: the one who only exists to make him realize that his true love has been in front of him since the beginning. There is no better destiny than two best friends finally aware of their true feelings. Fate, cruel as ever, put you on Jungkook's path for him to acknowledge that Mina is the right one for him.

And that fucking hurts.

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[darklinaforever]

I am convinced that there must be a story between Lilith and Eve, and probably even an identity exchange between the latter at certain times. Why, how, and when, I don't know, but I am convinced that in all cases, there was an exchange !

Here are the official character cards from the hazbin hotel games :

Lilith's seems quite strange. First, the card supposed to represent Lilith does not contain the name Morningstar compared to her daughter and her husband. Of course, this may seem like a simple little detail, but I am convinced that it is not insignificant.

Second, Lilith's haircut and figure (or at least assumed Lilith...), not to mention the smile she displays, are much more similar to the depiction of Eve in the introduction to Hazbin Hotel than to that of Lilith.

And on top of that, a crucial detail, Lilith's face is absent (even though we know it very well, a strange choice), beckoning as if to keep a secret. And once again, she has almost the same smile as Eve in the introduction to Hazbin Hotel and just like Eve, her face is absent. And when else is Lilith's face missing in Hazbin Hotel ? Episode 5, absolutely.

And removing Lilith's face doesn't really make sense, since once again we know it and we even see it in the episode through numerous portraits. Well, it doesn't really make sense, unless it's to point out that something is wrong with her. And once again, the silhouette looks much more like that of Eve than of Lilith.

All this may seem trivial but I am convinced once again that it is not ! To drive the point home, the Hazbin Hotel Twitter account published a photo showing us a little better the two portraits that we were able to see in episode 5 located in Lucifer's office, with a message explicitly saying that the devil is in the details and to look a little closer at the two portraits of the Morningstar family.

And what can we learn from these two paintings concerning Lilith ? She has her eyes open to one, but not to the other (I will also add that we do not see Lilith's eyes in the beach scene, since they are camouflaged by sunglasses). She is very close to her family on one and more withdrawn on the other. She wears her wedding ring on her left hand on one and her left hand is not visible on the other. Another small detail being that Lilith's left hand was also not visible during the flashback of episode 5.

Probably many will think I'm crazy, but I'm convinced that whatever is happening with Lilith, it must have something to do with Eve and that they must have swapped places probably several times for various reasons. Maybe it's not really Lilith we saw at the end of season 1, who knows. But even if it's her, there must be a reason she's here. I doubt that she simply abandoned her husband and daughter overnight to become the real big bad as many theorize. After all, Lilith has literally been with Lucifer since their fall to Hell and lived a family life with him and a visibly happy Charlie from the portraits. So it probably stayed for thousands of years before suddenly mysteriously disappearing for seven years. Also, all this crazy stuff that a lot of people have saying that Lilith is bad because she kept Charlie away from Lucifer… from the portraits it looks like bullshit. Lucifer obviously had his own insecurities regarding his daughter, no point blaming Lilith for that. Especially since, regardless of whether it was Lilith or Eve in the flashback of episode 5, she simply seemed to bring Charlie back to bed damn it ! Don’t hesitate to give me your opinions in comments !