#and yet willa has the life he wants | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

perseephoneee · 1 month ago

Note

for Kinktober, could you write A/B/O with Loki as the alpha and the reader as an omega? tysm! I love your writing so much <3

kinktober day 1 (loki laufeyson x f!reader)

↳ masterlist ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist ↳ kinktober masterlist

content warnings: a/b/o dynamics, restraints, oral (f. receiving), breeding kink, unprotected sex (duh), willa has never written a/b/o before (deserves a warning)

a/n: happy kinktober!! as i was writing this, i saw one of my other fics (i keep all my writing in a word doc like a maniac) and i saw a terribly written redundant line, and then i spent like 10 minutes figuring out how to leave comments on a word doc only so i could harass my self.

Your skin was warm, and your dress was suffocating, but mostly, you were happy. Happy because you finally were able to marry the love of your life and warm because the mess hall was suffocating.

Asgardian royal weddings typically had the bride and groom in solitude while the city celebrated in their honor, but you weren’t raised royal; you just managed to catch the attention of a certain silver-tongued prince. You couldn’t fathom not celebrating with others on your wedding day. The Allfather was not particularly happy that you managed to convince the wedding planner to allow for a banquet with close friends and family following the ceremony, but he wouldn’t speak out against you. Not when Frigga adored the idea. And while your time with your friends and family was amazing, full of laughter, eating, and merriment, you couldn’t help but continuously glance toward your alpha across the table. Your alpha, you thought. An insane thought. You were an omega and a commoner, and yet you sat at the high table with Asgardian royals and the best ale in the city. Life, for once, decided to treat you.

You felt Loki’s gaze on you from across the table, and you felt the warmth as he looked from the bridge of your nose to your collarbones to the junction of your neck where his mark would be. You felt your stomach tighten at the thought. Apparently, Loki had the same idea because he managed to excuse both of you from the table while also thoroughly embarrassing you. Declaring “I want to bed my wife” before dragging you off wasn’t the particular goodbye you wanted to share. You told him so on your walk to his— your— chambers.

“Did you have to say it like that?” you whispered.

“I refuse to lie about the one I love, especially my mate,” Loki grabbed your hand, kissing your knuckles with a wink and pushing the door open behind him. You hadn’t been in Loki’s chambers until this moment. Despite his constant debauchery, you managed to save yourself from disrupting the political landscape any more than you had. You wanted your first night together to be as husband and wife, alpha and omega, mates eternal. You knew if you had entered any sooner, you wouldn’t be able to resist.

Loki’s room was extravagant, but it was all a façade. You could tell by the little pockets of the rooms that were more true to his character. Books, scribbled notes, discarded cups of tea and wine, the proof of someone who yearned for knowledge but acted otherwise. It’s probably why you fell in love with him.

You felt his fingers on your arms, trailing up to your neck as he brushed your hair to one side, kissing delicately on your shoulder, and letting his hand brush your shoulder blades. It wasn’t in his nature to voice concerns, only show them. You sighed, visibly relaxing, letting him know that it was alright, that you chose him, and that it was safe.

Your eyes drifted close, letting your weight fall against him as he wrapped one arm around you, covering your stomach and moving up to your breasts. His lips danced along your neck, nipping behind your ear in a way that made you suck in a breath. His other hand wrapped around your throat, not applying pressure but merely letting you know that you were his. He tilted your head towards his, blue eyes not faltering in their love for you.

“You are mine, drottning.”

“I am yours,” you breathed, kissing him on the lips for the first time since your wedding ceremony. He turned you around, pulling you flush to him as his hands tangled in your hair, gripping your waist, and held you close. You tried to remove his shirt, aching to see his bare skin, but with a snap of his fingers, he had removed both of your clothes in a wave of brilliant light. You glared. “Cheater.”

“No, love, just a visionary,” he smirked, pulling you towards the bed and sitting you on his lap. You didn’t have an opportunity to feel shy about being bare before him for the first time, not when Loki could only look at you like a goddess sculpted from marble and for his enjoyment. “Will you let me knot you, omega?”

“Depends,” you shrugged, a small smile on your lips. He growled at that, flipping you both around so he had you pinned on the bed, your hands above your head. You couldn’t move your wrists, and you had half the sense to think that his magic had something to do with it. He kissed over your collarbones, dipping down to your breasts, sucking and kneading. You let out shaky breaths, wanting to bring your hands to tangle in his hair but being unable to. Your writhing apparently annoyed him because you felt that same invisible strength holding down your torso. He came back up to your face, smiling like a cat and kissing your cheek.

“Quit your movements, woman.” You tried to bite him, but he only laughed. “As your alpha, I will enjoy you as I please,” he moved back down your body, kissing your hip and moving to your thighs, leaving marks on the inside as you were helpless to do anything but watch. When his lips met your clit, all you could do was moan. He pushed your thighs apart, licking and sucking in ways that made you putty. When he started using his fingers, pushing into you and curling, you were almost glad he was holding you down. Otherwise, you would’ve been a goner. It wasn’t the intensity that sent you over the edge; it was when he started licking you delicately that made you let out a choked sob. Loki continued his actions, prolonging your release for as long as you were able. You were thankful when he stopped, removing his fingers and kissing your hips and stomach, the sensations becoming too much. He let your arms go, and you were finally able to relax. The lack of restraints made your body melt into the silk sheets. Loki kissed you delicately, lying next to you. You tangled your hands in his hair and brought him closer, enjoying his touch.

“I thought you were going to bed me,” you whispered, not used to seeing him go so slow. Loki’s smile turned wicked.

“I still plan to. But I want my omega to enjoy it, and I can’t have you so fucked senseless from my tongue that you can’t enjoy my cock.” You felt heat rise to your cheeks, only spurring Loki on further. “I want you to feel in every cell of your body when I knot you and make you mine. Understand?”

“Yes.” Loki raised a brow, waiting for you. “Yes, alpha.”

“Good girl,” he purred, kissing you again. He made you move up the bed, slapping your ass in the process, which only made you growl at him again. You know he enjoyed your feistier nature. If anything, it turned him on. He settled himself between your thighs, cupping your neck and tilting your head back for a kiss. You looked at him expectedly, and when he pushed in, you started to debate your earlier decision on waiting. Loki wrapped your legs around his hips, rocking in slowly, letting you get used to having him inside you. Soft gasps escaped your lips, sounds that drove Loki insane and encouraged him to go harder. He leaned back, dragging your hips up so you were splayed out before him, the perfect masterpiece. Every small noise you made, the way your lips parted, and the sight of your breasts bouncing with his thrusts only made Loki more possessive. You enjoyed seeing your alpha fall apart above you.

You felt his knot as it began to catch, and when he started touching your clit again, you knew you wouldn’t last long. Not when the sight of Loki, sweaty and bare and enamored with you, was enough to drive you crazy. Even as an omega, you never spent much time thinking of yourself as a mother. But now, all you could think about was him cumming inside you again and again, giving you pups, reminding you that you were his. That thought made you come again, shouting Loki’s name in a gasp. He leaned forward, pulling you up against him, rutting as he bit down on your neck, fulfilling your fantasies as he came. He held you close as his knot subsided, licking over the mating bite, letting you get used to being his. He rolled you both over, letting you rest on his chest as you felt yourself grow tired. Loki brushed your hair away from your face.

“Good night, drottning,” Loki whispered, kissing your temple. You felt yourself fall into deep sleep, perfect and happy as you lay with the love of your life.

taglist:

@eleniblue

@iwrite-things

@youneedanap

@huntress-artemiss

@linaax

@pisces-celeste

@marygoddessofmischief

@gruftiela

@saay-karani

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@lilaclaufeyson

@gardasngan

@evasmlp

@swampespresso

#kinktober #kinktober 2024 #marvel kinktober #marvel #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson x reader #loki x reader #loki #loki fic #loki laufeyson fic #my writing

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watchmegetobsessed · 2 years ago

Text

❄️HOME THIS CHRISTMAS❄️

A/N: hope you uys have been having an amazing christmas so far! for this fic i want to say special thanks to @futurecherry !

WORD COUNT: 5.6k

SUMMARY: Harry Styles is back in town and all eyes are on the two of you, because everyone knows how much he broke your heart when he left.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

This fic is part of ❄️ FANFICmas 2022 ❄️ Read more about fanficmas here!

You always thought the saying ‘talk of the town’ wasn’t real, not in the way movies loved to portray. The whispers behind someone’s back, the stares, the looks, it all seemed way too dramatic to be real. Right until you became the person it happened to.

December is by far your favorite time of the year. You hate to be a cliché, but it truly is the most wonderful time of the year. The town turns into a cozy winter wonderland, every shop and home is decorated, lights are guiding the way through the streets you know better than the back of your hand, the smell of mulled wine and hot chocolate puts a spell on you every time you walk past the square in front of the town hall, there is nothing that could ruin this time of the year for you.

Or so you thought. Because the returning of Harry Styles just made you the talk of the town and ruined the festive mood for sure.

Who would want to step out of the house just to see everyone looking at them with pitiful looks, whispering about the poor girl who now has to face the guy who broke her heart? No, that’s not even expressive enough to describe what Harry did to you when he left town five years ago, never even looking back to see the mess he left behind him.

Word spread across town fast when he was first spot at his mother’s house, picking up some old stuff of his. Mrs. Cromwell saw him through her kitchen window. She phoned Mrs. Adler who was just about to leave to the grocery store. She told the news to everyone she ran into and in a matter of hours everyone in town knew that Harry was back.

Including you.

It’s been a week since the first sighting and your life has turned upside down since then. Everyone wants to know what you think about his return, how you’re doing now that you can practically run into him anywhere and anytime.

Well, you’re already over that.

The first meeting went just as awkward as one would expect. He came into your bakery on a Tuesday afternoon, you were shocked to be face-to-face with him at first and he seemed just as speechless as he stared back at you while everyone else around you were dying for the scene to unfold.

When the two of you recovered, the conversation went something like this:

“What are you doing here?”

“I’ve moved back.”

“No, what are you doing in my bakery?”

“I came to see you.”

“But I don’t want to see you.”

“Can we talk? Please?”

“No.”

And with that, you rushed back and locked yourself into the closet sized office for an entire hour. He was gone by that and so you ignored the curious stare of your employees and carried on like nothing happened.

Since then, you’ve been avoiding him at all cost and you realized you can do that the best if you just never go anywhere. His return is nerve wrecking enough already, but he has managed to ruin your favorite time of the year for you too. You can’t enjoy the Christmas market, the decoration, the festive vibes because every time you step out you’re afraid you might run into him again.

You’re convinced you wouldn’t survive it.

Looking at him last time was painful enough, mostly because you clearly see the version of him you were in love with and who broke your heart and left without looking back. You could notice the changes on him, his hair, his face, it wasn’t the same and yet… you were still stuck in the past.

There’s just way too much hurt in you after what happened, lots of questions and even more anger towards him that you’ve kept bottled up all these years and you fear you might snap if you have to face him again.

“Are you gonna hide in the back today as well?”

Willa, your student cashier gives you a look as you walk past her when you finally arrive in the afternoon. She’s been working for you for almost a year, she’s trust-worthy and very hard-working, but she also has a tendency to speak her mind quite openly. She is never afraid to call you out when you’re acting ridiculously.

“I’m not hiding,” you hiss at her. “I have… some billing… stuff to do,” you mumble and you wonder how you got to the point where a seventeen years old girl is telling you off when you were supposed to be her boss.

“Whatever you say, boss,” she shrugs as an elderly woman walks in and she busies herself with serving her.

“Kids these days…” you mutter under your breath before locking yourself up in your office.

Running your own business luckily usually has your hands full when you’re at the bakery, so you forget about Harry’s existence as you dive right into work. Unfortunately, it seems like today won’t be the day when you can escape through work.

“Boss?” Willa appears at the backdoor right after you finished a call with one of your suppliers.

“What’s up?” you smile at her, but then see the worried look on her face and you just know already what this is about. “Don’t say—“

“He’s here. Asking for you.”

“Damn it,” you groan, burying your face in your hands. “Tell him I’m not here.”

“That’s not gonna work.”

“Why not?”

“Because I already told him you’re here.”

“Fuck,” you whisper. “Okay, then tell him—“

“Or maybe you could just talk to him.”

Harry’s voice startles you. You both look at him, he’s standing a few feet away from you and you feel heat rushing through your veins, which is kind of useful since you’re not wearing a coat and it’s quite freezing out here.

“I’ll be… in my spot,” you hear Willa say before rushing back inside, leaving you alone.

“I’m sorry, but I’m really busy and whatever you want—“

“I want to talk, Y/N. You can’t just avoid me forever, I live here now.”

“The town is not that small, we can just live next to each other without crossing paths.” You turn to head back inside, but he grabs your hand and pulls you back, the sudden touch of his hand on your skin sending jolts of electricity through your whole body. You yank it back as you turn to face him.

“Y/N, don’t you think we should at least just talk it over?”

“You wanna talk? You wanna talk about how you fucked me over? How you broke my heart and left me when I needed you the most? How you said you’d love me forever, but you didn’t even love me enough to stay when I put all my money into starting a business and a life here?”

“Y/N—“

“I never wanted to do it alone! I explicitly told you that I don’t want to go into it on my own and you said you’d be here and that we could do it together. And then you lost your mind, said you can’t handle being tied down here and that you needed freedom. You threw me away like you didn’t promise me forever a million times before. So you want to talk about that?”

Your sudden outburst is a surprise to the both of you, but it also feels liberating to unload it all.

“I think we are way past the talking phase, Harry. You wanted to leave, me and the town, whatever! You can do whatever you want even if it destroys other people. But don’t be surprised when said people don’t want you in their life.”

This time he doesn’t try to stop you when you storm back inside. He doesn’t come after you either.

You think about your encounter nonstop for the next few days. He is all you think about and you hate him for that. You also ponder whether you were way too harsh with him or not, but you always get to the same conclusion. Your words do not compare to the pain he caused you when he left.

The twenty-third is the last day the bakery is open, but seeing the heavy snowing in the morning you ring in to tell the shift that you’ll be in soon and they can leave early, have the rest of the day off. It’s a little past ten when you arrive, you help them close and prepare the place for the few days off. You stay after everyone is gone, doing some last minute paperwork and barely even notice how time flew by.

And how much snow has fallen.

“Shit,” you mumble under your breath when you see the whole street covered in inches of fresh, white snow and it’s still heavily falling. The wind has picked up too, it might soon turn into a whole storm so you better get going.

You parked down in front of the bakery, so you easily get in, but as you try to start the car, it refuses to do anything.

“Come on, come on!” you groan, turning the key in the ignition over and over again, but it wouldn’t start. You’re forced to walk home, which means about 45 minutes out in this weather.

You zip up your jacket, pull your hat on and brace yourself for freezing to death before getting out of the car and you just start walking, hoping for the best. The first few steps are not that bad, you let yourself believe you’ll be home in no time, but by the time you reach the corner, you’re thinking about just turning back and waiting for the end of the snowing in the bakery. You’re eyes are watering up, but the cold wind is practically freezing it onto your cheeks. There’s snow everywhere, your feet are slipping on the ice underneath the fresh snow and you know it’s just a matter of time until you land on your ass.

And then a car pulls up beside you.

“Y/N? What are you doing out here?” Harry calls out over the passenger seat.

“Having a grill party, what do you think?” you scoff, pulling your jacket tighter around you. “My car died.”

“Get in, you’re gonna get pneumonia!”

“No thank you, I’m totally fine!” you stubbornly say and start walking again.

“Y/N, please! I’m not letting you walk home, you’ll never make it on foot!” He drives slowly beside you as a harsh wind blows right into your face, almost pushing you off your feet. “Just get in the car!”

You clench your jaw as you think about your choices: freezing to death on your way home or spending a few minutes in a car with Harry to get home safely. It’s a hard one.

“No talking, okay?” you say as you get in his car, the warmed up seat immediately melting up your frozen muscles.

“Okay,” he nods as he starts driving, but the silence lasts for about five minutes. “You really thought it was a good idea to walk home in this weather?”

“Where’s the no talking?”

“I’m sorry, but you just… You’ve always been so stubborn, it’s good to know you’re the same,” he chuckles softly, but it just gets your blood boiling.

“I’m not the same and you know nothing about my stubbornness. Now would you just drive me home and not talk to me like you promised? Though promises don’t mean shit to you, that I know.”

Your words cut like a knife, but at least he goes silent. Staring out the window you watch the snow fall, it’s unusually thick, you haven’t seen anything like this in years around here. It mesmerizes you so much you don’t even notice where you’re going, only when Harry kills the engine and you see an unknown building instead of your home.

“What? Where are we?” you ask, looking around, trying to see what part of town you’re at but you can’t make out because of the snow.

“My place,” he answers.

“Why? I don’t live here, take me home!”

“Y/N, your home is another at least fifteen minute drive from here, but I can barely see the front of the car in the snow. Just wait it out at mine and then I’ll take you home.”

“Hell no! I’m not waiting for anything!” you protest.

“I bet Clement Road is already blocked, we wouldn’t even make it to your place!”

“You planned this whole thing out, didn’t you?”

“What?” he chuckles in disbelief. “Oh yes, I ordered the snowstorm and killed your car too.”

“Wait, you did?” your eyes widen. “I-I mean the car, did you do it?”

“Oh my God, Y/N, I did not!” he throws his hands into the air. “I did not mess with your car, I was coming from my grandma when I saw you. Now please just be rational for a minute and wait until the snow stops. I promise, I will take you home as soon as the roads are drivable.”

You hate to admit that he is right, that it’s your only and best choice if you don’t want to walk home and freeze to death. So, true to your stubborn self you get out of the car without a word and march up to the front door of the house he parked in front of. Moments later you hear him get out of the car too.

“The no talking rule still applies,” you mumble under your breath as Harry keys the two of you into the townhouse. He nods, pushing the door open and lets you go inside first.

It hasn’t processed that you’re now entering his private space, a place that’s his home, but you’ve never been to. He was still living with his mum when the two of you dated, you knew that house like the back of your hand, it was a second home to you. You haven’t been there since the breakup.

“How wet are you?” he asks and your eyes snap wide.

“What?”

“Your clothes,” he adds with a cheeky smirk hiding in the corners of his mouth. “How wet did they get? Do you want a change?”

“Um… My pants are kinda saggy. And my socks.”

“I’ll get you a full change. Make yourself home,” he says, before disappearing down the hallway.

For a few seconds you don’t move, feeling odd to be here, but when you recover, you wander into the living room that’s on the right from the front door, looking around curiously.

He still hasn’t packed out fully, there are a few boxes lying here and there, but the place looks cozy already and most importantly a lot like him. You see pieces of him everywhere, decors and furniture that just screams Harry, or at least the Harry you know from years ago.

He returns with a pile of clothes in his hands and he has already changed as well into sweatpants and a shirt.

“Here, the bathroom is on the left, throw your wet clothes into the dryer. I’ll make us hot tea.”

He hands you over the clothes and his signature smell hits your nose right away, nostalgia washing over you as you nod hazily and leave to the bathroom. You strip out of your wet clothes and put on the sweatpants and shirt he gave you and suddenly you’re back in time when you used to spend days without end at Harry’s and you had to wear his clothes because you’ve run out of yours. You loved stealing his hoodies and shirts, they felt like his warm embrace, but now… it confuses you.

Walking out you hear him on the phone and judging from the conversation, it’s probably Anne. He has put the kettle on, two mugs set on the kitchen counter as he stands by the window, staring out while talking to his mother. You don’t want to invade on the private conversation, so you return to the living room and snoop around a bit.

What caught your attention first thing when you walked in is the fireplace. He used to tell you about how much he wanted one so he could drink tea and read in front of it. You wonder if it’s what sold him the place when he was looking around.

On top of the fireplace there are a bunch of memorabilia, picture frames, gifts he has gotten over the years. It wouldn’t be that big of a deal, but as you scan over it, you find more and more things that are connected to you.

First there’s a candle you bought for him after a fight as your peace offer. Then there’s a photo framed from Anne’s birthday, it’s got her, Harry, Gemma and you on it. The more photos you look at, the more you’re met with yourself. You would have never expected him to showcase any pictures that has you in it, but he clearly doesn’t mind looking at you every day. Reaching into the little wooden box that sits on the left edge of the fireplace, you find movie and theater tickets, most of them he used with you on dates. He has a whole stack, probably with every movie and play you two have seen and there are a lot.

“I kept them all.”

His voice startles you, you were so busy snooping around you didn’t notice he finished his call. Shutting the lid of the box you turn around and fold your arms over your chest to stop you from touching anything.

“Why?” you question.

“Because they are memories. Good ones.”

He sets down two mugs on the coffee table, hot tea steaming from them, but they get ignored as he walks up to you and grabs the box. Digging into the tickets he grabs one and hands it over to you.

“Do you remember this?”

Taking the piece of paper you look at the title. It’s from the old cinema in town you used to go to almost every month. They always had some of the old gems playing and you loved having the experience of being in the movies, watching a film that can’t be seen elsewhere.

This particular ticket was for The Breakfast Club, one of your biggest favorites. You missed the few times they played it in the theater and you were bummed. So Harry got them to add one more date, on your birthday. It was the sweetest thing someone has ever done for you and you’d be lying if you said it doesn’t fills your chest with warmth.

It’s a happy memory you share with him.

“I remember it. Yeah,” you say, clearing your throat as you hand the ticket back, knowing you have it saved at home too.

“You’ve seen that movie so many times, you were mumbling the lines next to me,” he chuckles, as he places the box back.

“Why do you have all these?”

“Told you, they are good memories,” he shrugs, ignoring what you really meant by your question.

“You shouldn’t be holding onto them,” you shake your head, taking a few steps away from him to put some distance between the two of you.

“Why?”

“Because you left me,” you snap at him. “These memories weren’t good enough for you to keep you here. With me.”

Spite is dripping from your words, words you’ve been meaning to get off your chest, but you kept them buried deep inside you.

“Y/N, I didn’t leave because I didn’t want to be with you or because I wasn’t happy.”

“Oh, so you just woke up one day and decided you had better things to do?” you scoff.

“Jesus, would you stop belittling our relationship and my feelings for you?”

“Feelings?” you can’t stop yourself from laughing. “What feelings did you have that made you leave me, huh?”

Whenever you thought of having this conversation with Harry you imagined yourself staying calm and collected, not letting him show how much he hurt you, but you’re more like a deranged mess.

“I panicked, Y/N, okay? I was… I was young and for a moment I felt like I was running out of time. I was wrong, but by the time I realized, it was too late.”

“Trapped? You felt trapped in our relationship? Well, that’s just great to know.”

“I had no reason to feel like that, it was a momentary craziness. Have you not gone through that? Have you never questioned your decisions before?”

“Of course I did, but I didn’t move across the country or left behind the people I said I love.” It’s a hit below belt, but you can’t help it.

“I made mistakes, I’m human! But I’m here to make things right!”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“That I’m here to earn your forgiveness. I hurt you, caused you a lot of pain and I want to make up for that.”

“That’s very noble, but I’m not a partner in that.”

“I’m not asking you to take me back, I know I fucked up big time. I’m just trying to do the right thing and earn your forgiveness.”

“Stop saying that!” you growl.

“What?”

“That you want to earn my forgiveness!”

“But it’s the truth!”

“You wouldn’t need my forgiveness if you loved me enough to stay!”

“Would you stop refuting my feelings?!”

“Don’t lecture me about your feelings! I’m only seeing the facts, that you didn’t love me enough not to leave! So if you want to get me to believe you still love me and want me back, I can assure you, it’s not enough now! You left me when we had so much at stake, when I spent all my money on a business we were supposed to start together! I was all alone, I lost my lover, I lost my faith in a future we planned together! If you loved me, you wouldn’t have done that!”

“You think I don’t love you?” he raises his voice, clearly short on his patience as well.

“Oh, I know you don’t!” you scream at him.

For a few heartbeats he just stares at you and you have no idea where this is about to go. Then, without a word he storms back into his bedroom and you stand there, stunned with your chest heaving.

When he appears a few moments later he is carrying a big cartboard box. He throws it to the floor in front of you and opening he reveals a big collection of… everything that has anything to do with you.

“I kept every tiny thing that reminds me of you. Everything! All of our polaroids!” He grabs the dozens of photos the two of you took over the years and throws up into the air like confetti. “I have every gift you gave me, every clothes you got me, everything!”

He keeps throwing things out, laying them in front of your feet as you stare at him with your lips parted.

“These,” he continues, holding up a stack of papers, “are letters I wrote to you since I left. Over eighty letters, Y/N! Every time I wanted to run back to you begging for you to take me back, I remembered that you probably hate me, so I wrote you letters I never sent!”

He throws the letters into the air too and you watch them fly around in the room as Harry stands up.

“Wanna know why I still have these? Why I’m here? Why I came back? The only fucking reason I came back?”

Blinking you feel a tear rolling down your cheek.

“Why?” you whisper.

“Because I love you! I never fucking stopped loving you, Y/N!” he screams at you and this time you. “And if I have to spend the rest of my life paying for what I did to you, I will fucking do it, because you’re my everything and I would rather atone forever than live a moment knowing I didn’t try everything to make up for what I did!”

He’s breathing heavily and so are you. The intensity of the moment is swallowing you in whole and you feel like you could just collapse any moment. His confession has broken everything you’ve built up in you in the past years and now as you stare back at him, you go fully blank before…

You move before you could even think and Harry mirrors you the same moment, the two of you meet halfway and unite in hard, demanding kiss you’ve fantasized about so many times, beating yourself up about it.

You lose every ounce of self-control, you both do. Everything you do is so primal, just wanting to fulfill this burning need inside you for each other. You push against Harry, fingers grabbing onto his hair hard while his hands dig into your waist, he is making you walk backwards, stumbling and stepping on his letters and polaroids, but nothing matters.

It’s tug of war as you head to the bedroom without stopping the hungry, almost violent kissing and you tear your clothes off of each other as if they were poisonous. When he presses you against the wall at one point, pushing his erection against you, a loud cry bursts out of you, grabbing onto him even more desperately.

By the time he throws you onto the mattress you’re naked and he’s ridding himself of his last piece of clothing. You moan as you see his hard cock springing free, begging to be buried in you finally. He climbs on top of you and the weight of his body presses you into the mattress heavenly. You don’t even notice that you’ve started crying as you cling onto him as if your life depended on it.

He stops for a moment, brushing the tears off of your face.

“Hey,” he softly says, kissing the corner of your mouth and lifting himself up. “We don’t have to do this if you—“

“Please!” you gasp, pulling him back. “Please stay here,” you beg, linking your arms behind his head to keep him as close as possible. “Please stay here,” you repeat and you both know your words have a meaning beyond just wanting to keep him in your embrace in this moment.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m yours forever,” he assures before thrusting into you. “I’m yours forever.”

Harry seems to be asleep beside you when you finally decide to get out of bed and get yourself a glass of water. He stirs gently when the mattress moves underneath you, but doesn’t open his eyes. Quietly, you make your way to the kitchen and grab his shirt from the floor, pulling it on. You grab a glass and fill with tap water and stare out the window while sipping on it.

The storm has stopped, everything is covered in fresh, thick snow, right in time so you’ll have a white Christmas.

You repeat what happened tonight over and over again, trying to figure out how you truly feel about it. When you had Harry pressed up against you, you clearly wanted him in any and every way possible, but now that the lust as died down, momentarily, you’re finally using your brain to think.

You might have jumped at him too fast, it doesn’t mean that everything is smoothed out and there are no hard feelings. There are still questions and fears in you that you won’t be able to bottle up anymore.

“Everything alright?”

Harry’s voice startles you again and as you turn around you see him padding closer to you, wearing his sweatpants and a sleepy look on his face. He stops a few feet away from you, assessing your expression and he sees you the worry etched onto your face.

“Talk to me, Y/N,” he whispers, taking your face in his hands and you hold onto his wrists.

“We got a little carried away.”

“Do you regret it?” he asks and you can see panic rising in him.

“No,” you say without hesitation. “But… I can’t do this if you’re gonna leave again.”

Tears dwell in your eyes. You’re not angry anymore, but scared, that you’ll get hurt again, because you fear you wouldn’t survive it.

“I meant what I said, Y/N. I’m not going anywhere. Unless you want me to leave. I’m never making the same mistake again, I paid for it too.” Leaning down he kisses you softly, painting his promise onto your lips. “I promised myself I would be home this Christmas. But it’s not the town. You’re my home.”

You breathe in his words, let the relief settle in your chest as you nod and rest your forehead against his. Minutes pass by and he just holds you, ensures you silently that you’re not about to make a mistake by starting over with him.

“You must have heard how popular the bakery got, huh?” you joke with a chuckle.

“Ah, absolutely,” he grins, kissing the tip of your nose.

“I’m not letting you get into the business though.”

“So I can’t be a kept man? Damn it!” he laughs and you giggle against his neck. “I’ll prove you that it’s not a mistake, okay? I’ll earn your trust back.”

“Okay,” you whisper with a nod.

“Come on, let’s get back to bed. We can talk more in the morning.”

You follow him back into the bedroom and you gladly settle in his embrace, cocooned in his arms, knowing that this Christmas you’ll be home too.

Harry’s arms are clinging onto you when you slowly wake in the morning. His hands have sneaked underneath your shirt, the warmth of his palms coating your naked skin underneath the layers.

He has always been a clingy sleeper, you learnt that early in your relationship. All those mornings you spent tangled up in each other, soft, lazy kisses, Harry’s hands all over you, because he could never get enough of you.

“I love you, my Y/N.”

“My sweet love, good morning.”

“So soft, so warm, all mine.”

He was always the sweetest in the morning. And he was the same the day he decided to leave. You felt his touch on your waist, stomach and chest, he hugged you tight, his body pressed up against yours in bed as the morning sunshine beamed through the window. It was like every other morning, only that he didn’t go to bed with you that day.

You stretch blindly, enjoying the feeling of Harry wrapped around you, but slowly, you feel like you’re tossed back in time to the day he left, reliving the possibly worst day of your life.

“Mm, morning,” Harry murmurs behind you, his lips pressing to your shoulder before he gently turns you in his arms and he kisses your pouty lips once. Twice. But before he could go for a third one, he realizes something is off. “Babe?”

“I’m… S-sorry, I just…” you sit up in bed, looking around, taking in your surroundings as sleep wears off of your eyes. You’re in Harry’s bedroom at his new place, yet you still feel like you’re in the past, stuck with the version of Harry that will leave you. Again.

“Hey, it’s alright. Just breathe for me.” He gently rubs your back as your breaths are rapidly heaving through your chest. “It’s alright, baby.”

“Are you gonna leave?”

The words roll down your tongue before you could even think twice and you want to take them back, afraid that they might hurt him, but they also root from your fears you’re still struggling with.

Harry stares back at you for a moment and you expect him to walk out on you, but it never happens. Instead, he cups your face in his hand and leaning closer he brushes his lips softly against yours.

“I’m not leaving, Y/N. Never. I know it’s hard to see anything other than the past, but I will work hard to change that.”

“It’s just… so many things remind me of what was before,” you whisper, almost embarrassed, but you just can’t help this feeling that keeps crawling up your spine, into your mind.

“I know. It’s okay, I don’t expect you to change so fast, I know I have to work for it and we’ll get there, to the point where I earn your trust back. Okay?”

“Okay,” you nod shortly as he rests his forehead against yours.

“I love you. We’ll get through this.”

“I love you too,” you coo and crawl to his lap, letting him wrap in his embrace as he lies back in bed, pulling you with him.

“Do you remember how we used to spend Christmas?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “We got a Christmas tree together just before Christmas, made gingerbread house and exchanged gifts on the twenty-fourth, because we were too excited to wait till the morning,” you say with a tiny chuckle.

“What if we did everything different from now on? Make new traditions?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Well, we could decorate the tree earlier, look for a different recipe to bake and wait till the morning with the gifts.”

“We could attempt to wait… But we might fail.”

A laugh rumbles through Harry’s chest from where you lift your head to look at him.

“I’m sorry I freaked out on you.”

“Don’t be. Just let me be there for you when it happens.”

“Okay,” you whisper and push yourself up so your lips could meet his and this time, it finally feels new. It’s your fresh start.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#fanficmas #fanficmas 2022 #fanficmas2022 #watchmegetobsessed fanficmas #watchmegetobsessed fanficmas 2022 #harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb

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plumbob-pudding · 5 months ago

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On a late Friday evening, a few hours before Abe was due to return from the city, the mailbox clanged with the sound of letters. Willa hurried to sort through the mail, eager to receive news from home but when she spotted a small tear-stained envelope from Felix, her excitement evaporated.

"Dear sister," it read, "Papa is sick and the doctor doesn't think he has much left. We'd all like to see you and pay our final respects together. Please come as soon as you can."

Tears filled her eyes as she took in the words. She hurried upstairs to pack a small suitcase, wanting to make it to the station in time for the last train. As she folded in the dress she'd worn to Mama's funeral, heavy footsteps sounded on the wooden floor boards. Abe was back.

"Papa's sick," she explained to him, "I must get going."

Abe looked at her with weak pity, wearing that face he always wore when he was about to say no to something Willa really wanted, but surely he couldn't say no to this? Willa thought.

"It says here that he's been sick for a week now" Abe read out Felix's letter, "sick with that sickness your mother had most likely."

Willa nodded, conscious of the time being wasted. If Papa was as sick as Mama had been, she couldn't afford to waste any second.

"My sweet," Abe began and Willa felt all her hope leave her. Abe kept talking, saying she was the most important thing in her life and she ought not to selfishly risk her life by going into the city, but Willa had stopped listening. She knew she would have to disappoint her family yet again so that she could keep Abe by her side.

#sims 4 decades challenge #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 legacy #ts4 gameplay #ts4 legacy #ts4 decades challenge #sims 4 simblr #the mosleys #gen 3 #tw: gaslighting #tw: domestic abuse

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transmutationisms · 2 years ago

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fucking love your takes!! you always hit the nail right on the head :)

if i can ask, whats your opinion on the roy siblings’ relationship to sex?? i feel like it’s interesting that their relationship to sex is such an integral part of each of their characters (romans entire thing, shivs issues with monogamy, connor and willa, etc) and im wondering why they set it up that way. out of them all, is there any u think has the healthiest relationship with sex? (im tempted to say kendall lol because his issues with sex seem more garden-variety ie. using sex to fill an emotional void for love and attention and power etc but idk. i feel like there’s more there)

the kids' sex issues accomplish a few different things. one is that, in general, the show leans heavily on the characters' fear of the body as an alien, uncontrollable site of potential humiliation. no matter how wealthy and powerful they are, they can't stop logan from aging and dying; they piss or shit or trip on the stairs; and they therefore have trouble relating to sex in an uncomplicated way. the sex issues telegraph an overall discomfort with their bodies and an alienation from themselves.

more specifically, the way each sibling relates to sex is a direct function of their assigned role in logan's system of gender and corporate hierarchy, and indicates the ways in which they struggle with those positions. roman has always been seen as weak, effeminate, and therefore disgusting; he doesn't identify with the dominant, normatively masculine role, and doesn't want to fuck anyone, in business or literally. his most fulfilling sexual encounters on the show have been gerri echoing the way his father talks to him, and roman getting off on the objectification. shiv instinctively identifies with the dominant role, and has some of the killer instinct for it, but has been excluded from it by her father's view of her as a kind of permanent adolescent girl, kept sexually pure and disembodied; she has difficulty transitioning to the role of wife or mother, as she sees getting fucked physically as equivalent to getting fucked metaphorically, and considers both humiliating and beneath her. her open marriage arrangement would in some ways be quite normative were she a cis man, but instead, it's seen as a violation of her gender role. connor was at one point the heir by default, but is now considered biologically extraneous; his politico-sexual ideology encourages the 'productive' use of sperm, namely through reproduction, yet connor is childless and only recently in a committed relationship. his relationship is transactional—like all relationships on the show—but it bothers him on some level, and multiple times he has tried to convert this into a more romantic language that he wants willa to speak. kendall has been placed in their heir role, which demands exercise of a specific form of masculinity that includes being the one who literally and physically fucks his partners / subordinates, but he speaks this language awkwardly and unsuccessfully in business, and although he can fuck and enjoy fucking, he views his own sex life through logan's eyes and sends away both naomi and jennifer when logan disapproves of them. he also relates to his body primarily as a tool meant to accomplish a task, rather than an object of desire: an obvious point of comparison is his confusion when naomi asks for a dick pic, in contrast to roman actively wanting to frame his own body as an object for consumption that he then sends to gerri.

broadly speaking, their difficulty adhering to logan's definitions of sexual normality are indicative of the violence inherent in those definitions. his disgust at roman's sexuality, disdain of connor's relationship, sense of ownership over roman's and kendall's sexual expressions, and persistent denial of shiv's body and sexuality are all part of the same system, and affect how the kids see themselves and their own sexualities. also, because sex and politics and business all operate within the same discursive field, it would sort of be impossible for any of them to have simple pleasurable experiences of sex as long as they're still trying to exist in waystar or indeed in the broader capitalist structure it encapsulates. for them, there simply is no differentiating their own sex lives from structures of interpersonal violence and economic exploitation.

i don't think the show is trying to argue that any of these is a 'healthier' relationship to sex than any of the others. in general i would challenge that framework (like, healthier for whom? healthier defined by whom? &c) and i also just think the siblings each have distinct shit going on, and it's not generally possible to 'rank' them on any kind of scale of severity; they're just different. additionally, i think all of the siblings' sexual behaviours are a mix of things that are benign on their own, and only appear pathological in relation to the demands logan makes of them, and then things that are more inherently painful for them, regardless of their father. & of course, sometimes those lines blur or shift.

#he doesn't even trust water

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sayorseee · 5 months ago

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Rating songs from ZOMBIES: The Re-Animated Series

Disclaimer: who cares what I have to say? If you disagree that’s fine cuz I’m just a girl with a phone.

Link to the album on Spotify.

1. Songs I Like cuz Nostalgia

My Year (Re-Animated Remix): 10/10. It’s always great when My Year is involved. I lowkey wish it wasn’t the theme song solely so we could have a music video of the full song rather than just the theme song bit!

2. Songs I Like cuz they’re just GOOD

Repeat: 10/10. Need I say anything else? It’s perfect. Group song, check. Fun lyrics, check. Vocals on point, check. Zed and Addison being in love, check. Bucky arrogance thrown in the middle, CHECK!!!

Work of Art: 8/10. We don’t have the episode yet but I don’t need the episode. Anytime Milo sings my brain explodes. It has such a good vibe and beat it’s perfect. And the message is so sweet!

3. Songs I like cuz they’re zeddison focused

Work of Art: zeddison

Brighter with You: zeddison but extreme. 7.5/10. This is another where the episode isn’t out yet but it’s a really good Addison song. It’s probably the best Addison song in the entire franchise.

4. Songs I like cuz the episode made them Good

We’re Bringin It: 8/10. Should be longer. Eliza morphing into the top Bucky is the best thing any has written ever. Bucky being reduced to a background dancer in his own musical number is perfect because he’s always interrupting someone in their solo of a song.

Be an Alpha: 6/10. It’s only good cuz the premise of Willa and Bucky training Wyatt to be an alpha and him horribly misconstruing the lessons is HILARIOUS. Points off because unfortunately the vocals aren’t great (they’re so bad, my sisters screams and threatens to run away when Wyatt’s verse comes on…)

When Worlds Collide: 5/10. I’m personally not a fan of Baby Ariel’s voice, buuuuut I like the general news of the song. Like the music and I like singing it, but I don’t like hearing it.

Be like Me: 8/10. Good Bucky song where Bucky isn’t singing.

5. Songs that are. They’re alright. I guess.

It’s Okay: 7/10. Again, I don’t think these are our strongest singers of the bunch. But I love the message. Just maybe less of those guys singing. (Also Wyatt hallucinating Willa doing a musical number is pretty funny)

Back to Back: 4/10. It’s good. Meg Donnelly has a great voice. But it’s just like there. Like there wasn’t really a need to have this song. It doesn’t move the story along or provide a fun break in the episode. It’s just there to be there.

6. Songs I don’t care for cuz I don’t care for the storyline or performance

Meant to Combine: -1000/10 everyone knows I’m a wyliza hater (WILIZA -WillaxEliza- FOR LIFE)

7. Bad

It’s Free Period: -10/10. I don’t like when Disney channel makes their shows and movies have raps in them they’re never good and they use so much auto tune it sounds even WORSE.

8. Honorable Mentions

Work in Progress: episode isn’t out yet. I’m not a fan of Wynter’w voice but hey maybe when the episode is out it’ll move up a few categories

Lemme know what you guys think! Anything you disagree with, or thoughts you might want to add!

#zombies #zombies the re animated series #disney zombies

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topazadine · 4 months ago

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Writerly Questionnaire

Thanks to @the-golden-comet for the tag! I enjoyed reading your answers, especially the part about your characters!

Alright, here goes.

About Me

When did you first start writing?

I wrote my first story at age 7, started my first book at age 12 (no you can't read it, it's terrible) and published my first poem at age 15.

Are the genres/themes you enjoy reading different from the ones you write?

Despite writing fantasy, I actually don't read much of it myself. My undergrad career focused most on British literature (specializing in Victorian lit) so that's what I'm most familiar with and what I like the most.

Is there an author (or just a fellow writer!) you want to emulate, or one to whom you’re often compared?

I don't really seek to emulate anyone because I have my own unique voice, and I don't really get compared to anyone else either. If you have suggestions of what I might sound like, fire away lmao, because I don't really know who I emulate. However, I take a lot of inspiration from Willa Cather for atmosphere and Emile Zola for realism.

Can you tell me a little about your writing space(s)? (Room, coffee shop, desk, etc.)

I exclusively write at my desk. My setup looks like this:

I need my little guys and my Emotional Support Stuffed Cow (her name is Bluebell the Moobell because she has a little bell in her). Note the knitting I'm procrastinating on at the bottom right lmao.

What’s your most effective way to muster up some muse?

Funnily enough, I often get inspiration from my day job as an SEO writer, even though it has absolutely nothing to do with the types of stuff I write. Sometimes I'll just be hammering away at a Construction Accident Personal Injury Lawyer page and it strikes me that I need to kill one of my characters.

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and places you write about?

Sort of. I have this thing I do where I like to mentally walk through buildings I used to visit as a relaxation activity, like my childhood elementary school, so that's given me a good memory of how places are laid out. As for actual settings? No, most of those are just made up of pictures I've seen of different places that I've never visited.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing, and if so, do they surprise you at all?

Some of my recurring themes include: Degradation/transformation of memory Struggling against fate/the unknowability of fate Found family Abusive relationships Moral relativism Satisficing (choosing between multiple suboptimal outcomes to pick the least harmful option) None of them surprise me; I recognize where they come from. For example, my obsession with the degradation and transformation of memory comes from my own struggles with dissociative amnesia, and my interest in satisficing comes from my International Relations degree. My concerns about the unknowability of fate come from the fact that I had a premonition that I'd die of a heart attack at 42. And I'm 32 right now. You can imagine that this influences my process lmao.

My Characters

Would you please tell me about your current favorite character? (Current WIP, past WIP, never used, etc.)

As a lesbian, I am not ashamed to say that I am deeply and passionately horny for Uileac (who you can meet in "Cachaille" or read about in 9 Years Yearning). Like how can you not go crazy for a man who thinks this is the perfect declaration of love?

He's so scary and so devoted, yet also very chill and laid-back? And funny? And athletic? And protective of his lil sis? He's just ... (screams into pillow)

Which of your characters do you think you’d be friends with in real life?

Ono. He's a Sinan royal guard who is just so sweet but also kinda dumb.

There's a scene where he has to ask Cerie what kind of menstrual products she needs for their trip, which is both mortifying and really adorable. He's just a really gentle and nice guy who I think would get along with damn near everyone.

Which of your characters would you dislike the most if you met them?

I think Mordrek would scare the absolute shit out of me ngl. Like ... bro just ... does this kind of shit on the regular

Tell me about the process of coming up with of one, all, or any of your characters.

Uileac, Orrinir, and Ono were heavily inspired by Uguisumaru, Ookanehira, and Omokage from Touken Ranbu and I don't apologize for that. Obviously they are a bit different, but their personalities are quite similar. Cerie was developed from a roleplay where I was playing as Uguisumaru's made-up sister, so that's why she's Uileac's sister in Poesyverse. Haniya, Cerie's love interest, was made up by using personality testing and astrology to come up with Cerie's Perfect Match. No one knows where Mordrek came from. He just kinda showed up.

Do you notice any recurring themes/traits among your characters?

They all have daddy issues. Every single fucking one of them.

How do you picture them? (As real people you imagined, as models/actors who exist in real life, as imaginary artwork, as artwork you made or commissioned, anime style, etc.)

All the art I have for my characters was made with AI before I realized AI was absolute garbage shit, so I'm not showing it, but I did commission a painting of Cerie from the amazing artist Caleb over on Twitter:

My Writing

What’s your reason for writing?

For me, that's kind of like asking why a bird sings. It's just what I do and what I have always done.

Is there a specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating coming from your readers?

Definitely when someone says that my writing helped them or resonated with them. My writing gives me catharsis and it feels really good when other people say they got that same sense of catharsis.

How do you want to be thought of by those who read your work? (For example: as a literary genius, or as a writer who “gets” the human condition; as a talented worldbuilder, as a role model, etc.)

As someone who takes risks that pay off.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Depicting trauma without being melodramatic.

What have you been frequently told your greatest writing strength is by others?

People have told me they like how meticulous and carefully set up my stories are without infodumping or being boring. They appreciate the work that goes into planning things, how it all pays off in the end and comes together nicely without plot holes.

How do you feel about your own writing? (Answer in whatever way you interpret this question.)

I think I've come a long way and continue to improve, which is what is most important.

If you were the last person on earth and knew your writing would never be read by another human, would you still write?

The last Kauaʻi ʻōʻō still sang until the end. So yes.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely what you enjoy? If it’s a mix of the two, which holds the most influence?

I write whatever the hell I feel like when I feel like it. People tend to like it, but if they don't, I enjoyed making it anyway.

Open tag!

#writers on tumblr #creative writing #writing #writing community #writing game #oc game #oc character #my ocs #tag game #tagging game #tag meme #my writing #literature #writeblr #writerscommunity

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esther-dot · 2 years ago

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BNF will dissect each interaction or thought regarding Sansan to look the underneath meaning behind them. Despite writer is much more clear about their role and show how much Hound abused Sansa. BNF has no problem in shipping Willas and Harry with Sansa. Even when Willas never appear in books or met Sansa. And Harry appear in only one chapter in TWOW still people are expecting him to be Lord of Vale. Yet thinking that Jon and Sansa could be potential couple they feel it's crackship or people shipping them are delusional. Sansa being home safe and queen is absurd to them.

It is very, very amusing which ships are considered canon or noncanon by the fandom, and how, to them, certain things like say, verbal abuse, threats of violence, attempted rape, aren't an issue for a potential romantic relationship, but cousin marriage (in a story in which cousin marriage is unremarkable) is forbidden.

I think perhaps the problem is, we have read the story so differently, we look at the relationships / potential relationships in incompatible ways. For Jonsas, we look at this quote:

Sansa stared hard at his ugly face, remembering how he had thrown down her father for Ser Ilyn to behead, wishing she could hurt him, wishing that some hero would throw him down and cut off his head. But a voice inside her whispered, There are no heroes, and she remembered what Lord Petyr had said to her, here in this very hall. "Life is not a song, sweetling," he'd told her. "You may learn that one day to your sorrow." In life, the monsters win, she told herself, and now it was the Hound's voice she heard, a cold rasp, metal on stone. "Save yourself some pain, girl, and give him what he wants." (AGOT, Sansa VI)

and we think Sansa's story isn't that she should listen to the men who abuse and molest her. We think, that despite the horrors she faces, her belief in knights and heroes is already being validated by Jon and Brienne, that it is only a matter of time before her despair, "no one will ever marry me for love" will be answered by someone who does love her.

That conclusion means that men who marry her to rise to power, men who molest her, insult her, attempt to rape her, men who want her to give in and give up, that they can't be the canon romantic pairing Martin has for her, because for one of them to be, is contrary to the story he is writing. The monsters will not win.

Some of us ship Jonsa for funzies and don’t think it was ever going to be canon (books or show), but for others of us, Jonsa is meant to happen to allow Martin to end the sentence he began in AGOT.

There are heroes, there are true knights, Sansa will be loved.

Jon beheaded Slynt, Brienne exists, we've have reason to be optimistic!

As for the rest of it, there are Sansa fans and Jonsas who don't think she will be queen, but calling people delusional for believing she will end up in Winterfell when we have a prophecy about her ending LF there...I don't see the point in denying it. Most of us would be thrilled with KitN Rickon, so you can’t even argue her being queen is wishful thinking on our part. It isn’t necessarily anyone’s dream ending, it’s just the ending some of us think Martin is heading towards. 🤷🏻‍♀️

#anti the hound #anti sansan #jonsa #dot chat #<<< for filtering #I’d much rather sansa live the rest of her life without a partner than end up in one of those ‘canon’ ships

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josephslittledeputy · 10 months ago

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WIP... Oh shit, its actually Wednesday??

Tagged by @wrathfulrook @clicheantagonist @marivenah @cassietrn @the-silver-chronicles @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat and I thiiiiink that's it... sorry if you've tagged me & you're not on here, its been a hot minute since I've posted a wip wednesday & my memory is basically Swiss cheese

Tagging anyone who wants to self indulgently share a WIP! Feel free to tag me, I love to read new stuff :)

**Also terribly sorry in advance cause this turned out to be a bit longer than I thought it would be**

WIP 1: OG Verse - fun times with Celeste & Gabriel

He has to resist the urge to throttle her, lest he ruin the inside of his house filled with years of carefully handpicked items, ones he held a certain fondness for. "You ruined my life, Celeste. Or do you not recall?” "Your life?" She tilts her head in mock curiosity. "What life? The one where you were sent anywhere they told you to go, like some mongrel with a barely slackened leash?" “Excuse me?" “We can pretend otherwise. Keep up the illusion that your life was marvelous, picture perfect even. But we both know the truth, don't we?" She takes a step closer. “You were nothing but the High Council’s defanged pup. Cluelessly doing their bidding before I freed you. If anything, you should be thanking me." "Thanking you?" He clenches and unclenches his fist in an attempt to suppress his anger. "Hate me if you must, fight me even, but do it later. Right now we must get out of here. If they do not know where I am yet, they soon will. What do you think will happen once they realize one of their precious dhamphirs has been under their nose this whole time?"

Celeste truly is the nicest individual you'll ever meet :))

Including this little snippet from Gabriel's pov as well cause idk, I just really like it

Unbidden worry strikes him. He listens, waits, and when his ears pick up the sound of soft, even breathing he lets out a breath of his own. Celeste and the baby were still there, unharmed, perhaps even sleeping. It brings an odd sense of comfort, reminiscent of times long forgotten, times he didn’t want to remember. If he did, he’d have to remember what brought them to a halt in the first place and he had a job to do. Grief and old wounds had no place here, at least not at the moment. Kicking his boots off, he treks into the bathroom and gently closes the door behind him. It’s a simple design: Shower to his left, toilet to his right, and a sink with a mirror above it directly across from the door. Leaning against the sink, he ruffles his short, black hair that's shaved on the sides and traces his fingers over an old, faded scar. It runs down almost the whole length of his face, going over his left eye and stopping just shy of the corner of his mouth. Overlapping it is another, only this one goes across his face horizontally, over the bridge of his nose and from cheek to cheek. The only thing that remains of the old Gabriel are his blue eyes, once full of life and mischief, now faded and dull. Turning away from his visage, he heads toward the shower and turns it on, stripping down while he waits for the water to heat up. He doesn’t need a mirror to see the multitude of scars and tattoos that adorn his body. Aching for another drink—if only to dull his senses and lingering memories once more—he curbs the yearning and steps beneath the water.

WIP 2: They Watch From The Pews

Willa squirms, trying to dodge cold fingers that reach out to trace over the letters, caressing them with a sadistic fascination that makes her stomach curdle in disgust. Disgust quickly transforms into a desperation to get away once he finally reveals the knife kept hidden behind his back. “Usually I’d peel the sin off but… I think this will suit you much better, don't you?" Pressing the tip of his blade into her skin, he teasingly drags it across her skin. "Tell me, Deputy, how did you feel when you got the news of Samuel's death?" "Chipper." She spitefully answers with a sneer. John heaves a dramatic sigh and presses the blade down harder, prompting tiny beads of blood to bubble up as he traces over the letters of her tattoo. "You can make this easier for yourself, you know." "I've heard that before. Got me a bullet to the leg." "Because you ran. My men only acted accordingly." "Fuck you and your men, pussy." "My, what a mouth on you." He tuts and makes a deeper cut. Her teeth sink into the leather in her mouth, denying him the satisfaction of hearing her make a noise. Without pause, he moves onto the second letter, brows scrunched up in concentration as he goes over the lines again and again. It isn’t until he’s on the last letter that she finally breaks with a muffled groan. He stops, lifting his eyes from his work. “Comfortable?”

John & Willa are bonding so well. Truly, I think they're starting to get along!

#**wips subject to change**#nah i thought it was tuesday today like... huh #anyway guess what guys i actually have stuff for wip wednesday! granted its not that great but ehh we tryin & thats all that counts #i love when docs will put a red underline under my words like... hunni if that aint a word it is now!!#ohhhh gabriel may be taking celestes shit now but just wait for it... hes a man who suppresses his anger until it builds and blows <3 #i need gabriel like a dog needs a bone ya feel? (shh dont look at me...)#Cel & Gabriel's past history is interesting and a bit convoluted (yes; they fucked)#also i love writing willa bc im like 'how many times can i make her swear? yes!' she just doesnt care anymore #shes feral & angry & shes finally indulging in it #also willas overreacting it was a bullet GRAZE not a bullet WOUND**#meanwhile johns like 'hehe knife time while i interrogate you bestie! <3'#wanted to include some stuff from Sparrows fic too but ah well. maybe next time #ok tag spam done SORRY #oc: celeste night #oc: gabriel walker #oc: willa rook

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bamboobrat · 2 years ago

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succession s4 e7 recap: 🍆🍆🇺🇸

this week's recap is nothing short of a trauma dump from this here political operative.

never in my life did i think i would relate to nate, but there truly is nothing scarier than election eve....

we start the episode off the disguisting brothers, preparing for a long night at ATN.

tom has seemingly still not slept and greggory peggory is still recovering from his night on the town with one lukas mattson.

a few levels up, team shiv and team roman are also gearing up for a long night.

other than the distinct lack of booze, i'd say the vibes are pretty realistic.

roman with mencken was always my least favorite version of roman. this episode is no exception.

in fact, i think i'm demonstratively anti-roman in this episode.

and gerri is nowhere to be seen:((

shiv is worried about mattson letting greg in on their little plans.

as she should. rule number 1: don't talk to greg.

rava has to deal with kendall yet again.

this woman is a saint. someone save her.

ken is still on his "everything i do, i do for my children"-shit. you know, everything except ensure that a fascist doesn't make it to the white house.

honestly, this episode is really, very good.

i never wanna watch it again.

mencken bonds with roman over the fact that they both hate the word 'narrative'.

he is prepared to lose and for a millisecond i was hopeful.

tom and greg do coke behind a whiteboard.

this is the right wing politics that i know. 10/10 great representation.

however, we all know how tom is with drugs. he does them all wrong and feels wrong and immediately begins spiraling.

my body is very bad at many things, such as producing enough serotonin, but years of campaigning means my stomach has superpowers.

gas station sushi? no problem. leftover pizza from the night before? don't feel a thing.

i'm stronger than tom, is what i'm saying. activists just do it better, i guess.

connor represents all politicians, all the time:

now, i respect all the politicians i work for loads, but there is just something inherently narcisstic about having six people cater to your needs constantly.

and most of them are unfortunately not as funny as connor.

tom is being a little shit.

with no moves left, shiv tells him she's pregnant.

it's not entirely unreasonable of tom to ask if it's even true, or if it's a tactic telling him that, but he's still a little shit for doing it.

i hate hate hate that we only got like four minutes of shiv girlbossing before she was back to doing everything wrong again... i support women's wrongs, but c'mon:(((

connor is by far my favorite part of this episode.

i just think they are neat<3

ken has his sister's back and i could rewatch those few seconds over and over and over.

fuck tom and his stupid touch screens.

and fuck roman too.

basically, there's a fire in wisconsin and ballots have been lost. historically, those votes have been overwhelmingly democrat, but roman wants them to call wisconsin for mencken, disregarding the burnt up ballots altogether.

he sends his talking points to ravenhead, who goes on an on-air rant, and the rest of the sibs take to the floor at ATN as well, much to greg's dismay.

shiv tries to threaten greg so that he doesn't tell her brothers about her plans with mattson.

as much as i love shiv threatening to pull greg's organs out his asshole, it isn't very effective.

there's an incident with wasabi.

i question a lot of decisions made in this episode, but perhaps most curious of all is the choice of lemon flavored la croix??????

i would laugh more at this if i wasn't so ridden with anxiety.

connor lands an embassadorship in the new mencken administration.

willa is skeptical of the fascism etc but still....

connor makes a speech. i love it when he does that.

we get a brief moment with the old guard, gerri not included.

we get basically no karl:/

instead we get roman being an asshole scene after scene after scene.

pls stop i can't take it anymore!!!

kendall is torn between team shiv and team roman, presumably because he can't decide what outcome will be most helpful to his own ambitions.

oh and there's the whole "my daughter might be in danger if mencken wins", but that seems to be secondary.

because he was vulnerable with shiv for a minute, he feels even more betrayed when he learns about her plans with mattson.

from greg of course. fucking greg.

the hugging era is truly a thing of the past.

i wish i had more jokes, but honestly this episode just made me very, very sad.

roman, ken and tom decide to call the election for mencken, despite shiv's desperate attempts.

and i just have to say, i know shiv isn't altruistic. i know she thinks a jimenez win will benefit her more than mencken will. i knooooow.

it's still very sad.

they call it for mencken.

me every single election night.

roman is very much in the camp of nothing fucking matters, and i guess he is right in a way.

it won't really matter to him or kendall.

it will for sophie, though. it will for jess.

ouffff....

roman now has a direct line into the west wing.

that being said, i don't think he's a very reliable partner for them.

in the end, mencken will do what is good for mencken. the same goes for roman.

i think ken might end up regretting this whole endeavor very, very soon.

tom becomes the face of this political scandal.

can't wait for it to bite him in the arse.

shiv makes a final rallying cry to mattson, but it somehow feels hollow to me.

this shiv girlie is starting to lose hope.

anyway, rava doesn't want ken to come over to see the kids because he prioritized his own project of becoming his dad over keeping them safe.

i guess i agree with him that the poison does, perhaps, drip down.

what a depressing episode!

i'm glad we are getting something to celebrate next week - logan's funeral wiii !!

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prismatic-starstuff · 2 months ago

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Oh wonderful!! My woman* isn't super ready yet but I know a few things and I have a few ideas. For one, she'll be as feral as the game will allow me to be. This is a woman who SUCKS. Considering that, apparently, the elves are sometimes insultingly called "bat-face", I decided to lean into that and make her a bit bat-like. Not sure how much yet, that's...what I need to sketch out. But she'll have these unnaturally tilted very round beady eyes and very large ears. She'll be a bit tan and have a blond buzzcut because idk when I went "I think elves should look uncanny" I very vividly imagined a tanned wiry and lanky elven lady with pitch black eyes and very short hair. And I see no reason to change what my imagination instinctively thought of.

I'm thinking of playing as a mage, but also I'm pretty sure I want to be a mage in Veilguard and playing as a mage in both games feels a bit stale? So maybe I'll go for a rogue? But also being a mage in DAI feels like it could be juicy? So I have to think about that.

Personality-wise, I am undecided between two concepts and I'll go with whichever one the game will allow me to actually play out. In either case, she'll be absolutely rancid. If BG3 was fantasy Gnosticism, I'm sure DA can be fantasy Catholicism. If I just squint hard enough. I mean there are inquisitions, I can find a way to shove something catholic in there. Well it doesn't really matter, what matters is that there IS a religious system and that means there can be fanaticism. This character I'll be playing will either be the most fanatical person ever...or someone who just doesn't care but SEEMS like a fanatic, because it's the kind of person who will invite Jehovah's witnesses for a cup of tea and nod along as they monologue not because the person would agree but because they find it entertaining.

Honestly both of these routes are fine with me because both of them happen in real life but the actual fundamentalists and fanatics usually don't make it to the top because they care too much to ever get there. Like, most people who sit at the top of fundie spaces aren't actually in it for the love of the game, they're in it to win it. And it makes sense because you have to do a lot of things that go directly against your cause and your faith when you're at the top of such a space. So yeah.

I'm not sure what uuuh elf devotional tattoo, I forgot what they're called, I'll give her yet. I'm thinking either Mythal for the irony or Elgar'nan for it to actually fit. Can't decide if I want to go with the hilarious irony or not.

Also...the funny thing is...I don't think she'll be like...rancid in communication? Like...she won't be as friendly as my BG3 guy "Osob", but she won't be rude either, I think. It's like...she will be rancid, but it's the kind of rancid you see in a person only when they let their guard down and you realise "Wait hold up, this person I've been friends with for so long believes THIS???". But idk about that yet. Most of all I just want her to be a hungry rabid coyote staring at you from the dark.

So far I'm thinking of naming her Willa, derived from William Phipps who gave the go ahead for Salem witch trials, or Olivaria, derived from Oliver Cromwell, who didn't really have a hand in inquisitions but he was a fanatical piece of shit.

*yeah ok so about that. This is the part where I pull out a move the game itself can't handle so it has to exist only in my imagination. So yes, she will be a woman in Inquisition. But. I just think it'd be really funny if she realised that she isn't a she after the events of the game. Now you might be asking yourself why I'd bust out such a convoluted move. Honestly I don't know how to make this sound normal, but there are several factors at play here, the most important being that I need the inquisitor to fuck Solas (because I need to know what the deal is. I need to understand what's going on in this place.) (honestly not sure how I'll even manage that tho because I...I don't think anyone will want to romance this inquisitor. Who the hell would want this rat.) but I feel like it'd be funny to sorta game the straight-lock. Like "Oh, I have to be a female elf to romance him? Checkmate, my character just doesn't know that he's trans yet." And honestly the really petty person in me also doesn't want to be just another elven woman inquisitor with a bun. But also yeah I think it'd be really funny. Like all around. For everyone. Imagine you're the inquisitor and you think you're a cis woman and then the plot happens and right after everything is over you're like "...I think this journey may have unlocked something in me."

oooooooooh so i am late to this but i Absolutely love the concept; love a rancid individual, always super fun!!

my plan was also to have my lavellan be trans in veilguard and i am... legitimately sad about the fact that apparently that won't be possible according to a recent interview, but ah well; doesn't matter what bioware have to say about it, we write our own canon for our own characters!

i wish you and your inquisitor the best of luck in your solas-fucking adventures :3

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ehc-on-ao3 · 2 years ago

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Where did “Willa” come from?

Apologizes if this is old news but I found this interesting and wanted to share.

So many fics have Enid using "Willa" as a nickname for Wednesday that I figured it must've been in the show at some point. Yet, nothing I looked up seemed to support this (and no, I haven't gotten to watching the show yet, sue me). I remember doing an online search a couple of months back but the results were inconclusive. Well, I recently gave it another shot and found the following:

First, this name wasn't pulled out out of thin air. There are a number of articles that state the main character of Wednesday was actually named Willa Addams, with her nickname being Wednesday. This is corroborated by a couple of articles that shared the following synopsis released by Netflix:

After getting kicked out of eight schools in Five years, Willa, aka Wednesday Adams [sic], is beginning a new chapter of her life at the academy, the two-century-old boarding school attended by her parents. However, Willa wants nothing to do with their alma mater and she's already planning her escape. But this academy is like no other school she's ever attended. It's a school of outcasts with four main cliques, the Fangs (vampires) the Furs (werewolves), the Scales (sirens) and the Stoners. It is also a piece of the mystery that holds dark secrets about her family's past.

(Note: I could find no official statement from Netflix that matches this, but then again, it's been at least a year and a half, so said statement may not exist any longer.)

While this could be a simple matter of accidentally flipping a couple of names around, I did find an article dated August 10, 2021, that used the name Willa extensively when listing the various supporting characters in the upcoming show:

Enid Sinclair – Enid is a werewolf, but you would never know it thanks to her Californian smile and sunny disposition. Enid is the roommate of Willa and the complete opposite of her. Wearing heart-shaped, rose-colored glasses, she dresses in the school’s purple uniform accessorized with velvet scrunchies and rainbow-colored nails.

Xavier Thorpe – Xavier comes from wealth and privilege, which is shown through his preppy artistic swagger and his handsome charm. Just like Tyler, he is fascinated by Willa. Xavier is also a talented artist and expert fencer.

Bianca Barkley – Bianca is the closest thing that the academy has to royalty, and it shows in her attitude. As a Siren, Bianca has the ability to morph her body between scales and skin. Bianca is frequently at odds with Willa, but there’s a lot more to the Siren underneath her scaled exterior as her life has been far from easy.

Principal Weems – Principal Weems constantly clashes with Willa, who she believes is a trouble maker, and very reluctantly accepted her into the academy. While to the other students her demeanor is warm, she hides her true feelings like a skilled diplomat.

Dr. Kinbott – Dr. Kinbott can be considered eccentric thanks to her love of roadkill taxidermy, Diptyque candles, and cashmere ponchos. Despite her eccentricities, Dr. Kinbott is a thoughtful, perceptive, and professional therapist, who takes a keen interest in her latest patient Willa.

Ms. Novak – The only “normie” teacher of the entire academy, Ms. Novak is the dorm mother and the A.P. Bio teacher. Smart, quirky, and perceptive, she feels a particular connection to Willa.

To me, what gives this article credence is the mention of Ms. Novak, a character who was going to be in the show but was cut very early on due to the actress leaving production for personal reasons. This announcement hit the news around December, 2021, just a few months after the above article was released. Maybe it was decided during filming that the name "Willa" would be dropped completely? That makes sense, as Wednesday doesn't strike me as the type to tolerate nicknames and would likely threaten bodily harm to anyone who tried to give her one.

But why "Willa," specifically? I think I may have an answer. In a Q & A with Percy Hynes White, the actor that plays Xavier Thorpe, that posted on December 4, 2022, the following question was asked:

Q: How did this show land on your radar? A: The same as any other audition, I just got an email and I think there was some kind of code name for it. It was called "Willow" or "Willa" or something. I sent in a video of me doing one of the scenes and stuff just went from there.

If Willa really was the codename for Wednesday (the series), which is also the name of the main character, I can see how a spotty info leak could've turned the codename into an actual name. If correct, Wednesday was never named Willa at all, but the internet being what it is, the name stuck around.

Any thoughts on Willa as a nickname? Others I've seen in fics are Wends and Wenny, which are so much easier to figure out. Only time will tell if I opt to use any of these in future works.

#Wednesday #Wednesday Addams #Willa

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nightshadehoney · 2 years ago

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The “Tom is a gold digger/status chaser and never really loved Shiv” take drives me up the wall.

Firstly because it’s often trotted out as an excuse for Shiv’s poor treatment of him. Like even if that was 100% true (I don’t think it is), it still wouldn’t justify treating him the way she treats him. Willa wouldn’t be with Con if he didn’t bankroll her lifestyle; their relationship started because she was an actual prostitute who he paid to be around him. Yet I somehow doubt that most of the people who say this about Tom would also say that Willa deserved it if we saw Con cheating on her and belittling her in public and pressuring her into sex acts she didn’t want.

But more the point, you kind of have to be watching the show with your eyes closed if you think Tom doesn’t love Shiv. You think someone only after money would’ve initially refused to read the the pre-nup before signing it? That someone who only cared about getting ahead would be constantly reeled back in after personal and professional mistreatment with “I love you”s and “I need you”s? If Tom was in this relationship purely for career reasons, he probably would’ve agreed with Shiv on their wedding night when she said the business part of the relationship made sense and wouldn’t have cared about having an open relationship. He was absolutely gutted that she cheated on him and called the idea of being married to him a “box set death march” because he loved her.

Tom is very much enamored with the power and prestige of the Roy family; he loves being rich. But those aren’t separate things from loving Shiv, I think it’s really part of it for him. People being into a someone because that person has what they desire but feel thet lack is pretty common. Shiv isn’t just rich: she’s a Roy and he’s attracted to the kind of power and confidence she has because she is a Roy. He’s so high off the idea that someone like that would want to be with him, that he let’s her walk all over him. A level-headed person would’ve gone running in the other direction after their fiance handed them a pre-nup with no infidelity clause and then implied that they will probably cheat on them and likely already have, but not Tom because Tom is a romantic deep down. He doesn’t want to look at that pre-nup because that would mean he has to acknowledge that there is any transactional part of their relationship. Tom essentially wants to have his cake and eat it too: he wants to to have a normal marriage where him and his wife love each other and have babies together and he wants to have a successful prestigious career. But openly talking about the latter interferes with his ability to believe he has truly has the former.

One of the central ideas in Succession as a whole is that when you have as much money as the Roys, there’s no such thing as a relationship that isn’t colored by their wealth. Even Rava, who really seems to have loved Ken in spite of his of him family rather than because of it, apparently did quite well for herself in the divorce. That scene is Austerlitz where Marcia asks Willa about her plans and tries to give her advice is all about this really highlights this. If you marry into this family you need to look after your position. It’s not a coincidence that Tom is also part of this discussion. Marcia acts like this is just a normal conversation about whether or not Willa wants children someday, but the subtext of this conversation, (that both Marcia and Tom understand, but maybe Willa doesn’t or is at least uncomfortable with) is “hey if you’re smart, you’ll cement your place in this rich man’s life by having his child as soon as possible, otherwise you are disposable”

This comes back in season three when Tom and Shiv talk about freezing embryos. That it’s embryos and not eggs is a concession to Tom; it’s Shiv saying “see you have some insurance because I am tying up my reproductive future with yours”. But Shiv is doing such a poor job in disguising how much this is a business discussion that Tom is uncomfortable; normal people talking about having children do not immediately start talking about the scenarios in which they would destroy their frozen embryos. So Tom just sort of flounders is like “I would want you to have my babies if I died” so he can pretend that is at all what they are talking about. It doesn’t make sense for him to act this way if he only cares about his position, very little of his behavior makes sense in this context. The only way it makes any sense is if, again, you are watching the show with your eyes closed and somehow believe that Tom is doing all this to somehow trick Shiv into thinking he’s nice. Shiv doesn’t like nice; she is uncomfortable with emotion and open affection--that Tom acts this way annoys her and makes her respect him less.

Shiv was never going to marry anyone who didn’t care at all about her money and name because it’s nearly impossible for anyone to exist in the family and not care. The only way any of the Roys could ever really have something like that is if they were with someone who was an equally successful billionaire from an equally prestigious family and Shiv would never marry somebody like that. Logan’s assessment of Shiv that she was marrying Tom because he was beneath her and she didn’t want to risk being betrayed, while cruel, is accurate. He’s a trophy husband--he’s “plausible” as Caroline puts it--plausibly successful that they would be together but unambiguously beneath her because he doesn’t come from the same kind of money she does and relies on her for his career advancement. People act as if poor Shiv was duped into marrying someone who only cared about her money like...she’s not blind. She’s not unaware of Tom’s naked ambition and social climbing--she knows who he is and uses it to her advantage. She sought out a relationship that is transactional in this way because that puts her in control. She would never feel safe marrying someone who wasn’t in a subordinate position to her; it would make her too vulnerable. Frankly, anybody who wasn’t enamored by her lifestyle wouldn’t put up with her shit. She married Tom because he’s safe--he won’t really push back on her treatment of him both because he’s a a huge simp and because he would jeopardize his career by leaving. She conducts her relationships the way her father does, using wealth and status in the company as a form control in her personal relationships.

#like I saw someone say that Tom threw a fit when Shiv went after the CEO job herself #which is super weird way to say he calmly told her she could say upfront she wanted it and that he would support her #what show did you watch?#hbo succession #succession #succession posting #tom wambsgans

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safely-in-vhagars-belly · 1 year ago

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Dark!Aemond x oc (Snow falls, chapter 26: running around in circles

Concept: You are Willa Wyldewoods, lady of Wyldecrest. After being denied your hand in marriage, Aemond murders your family and makes himself Lord of WyldeCrest, out-powering you. He claims you as his wife and spoils, He commands and goes over your home now and as you will learn right now: No one is safe under his reign. Not even you.

WARNINGS: Non-con, smut 18+ dark!aemond and slight bookaemond, abuse, choking, obessed insane aemond, cursing,

He growls when grabbing you from the bed. "You think I'd kill for every brat I want in my bed?" He chokes you. You gasp helplessly. "You think I let anyone sleep in my bed, near me, where you can kill me, easily? You think I like it that the thought of another's hands on you makes me want to burn down villages and massacre civilisations?!" He shouts the words at you as you are scared but also confused. "I didn't fuck anyone since I married you! From the whore at your home, to the whores here in King's Landing! No one can even compare to you! Hearing you talk yourself down is making me mad!"

You are touched, scared and afraid and aroused at the same time as you hear those words leave the lips of your husband. So he didn't take anyone in his bed. Or so he claims. Perhaps he is lying.

Aemond seems to only now notice that he is choking you and lets go of your neck. "Now, my little fox…’’ He makes sure there is a pause when he takes in your shaking body and your widened pupils. Of fear, perhaps. But also of desire.

It was fucking Aegon, pleasuring Aegon and pleasing Aegon. All that she taught you was that Aemond likes his bedmates wild and untamed, and you are nothing of the sorts.

He moves on with his questions.

"Your friend. What did she learn you?' You know it best to answer honestly. And Aurelia didn't teach you anything sexual. Perhaps she showed you some things, but none of it was teaching you.

Aemond smacks your behind when you cry out as his cruel smacks. "You have a habit of rambling whenever you are nervous. Clear answers, pet." He groans when tugging at your fox coat.

You gulp and you have to clear your throat before speaking. Your throat feels dry.

''Not much. She did a few things with the king -"Your rambling is interrupted by two hard blows on your behind.

Aemonds hands gently caress your face. "Did you like it, Willa?' He asks. "Do you like it when you have no say? Do you like it when you are helpless?" He wonders out loud. Do you? You find it confusing.

You close your eyes and nod.

"He.. he had sex with her when I was present. She forced me to kiss her." And you touched yourself when you watched them. But you don't tell Aemond that. He said he already "dealt" with Aegon. You don't want your husband to risk his life by upsetting the king by making another example out of him.

You know you must answer. To your husband, yes. But also to yourself. Who are you, really? You must be honest. "I do, and I don't. I do like it when we are alone and you take control. But if your brother marched in here and held me down... I wouldn't like it one bit.' You confess. You picture the drunk smelly king on top of you compared to Aemond, and you know who you'd prefer in a heartbeat.

Aemond sighs when rubbing your back. "I should take his head for corrupting my innocent sweet fox." He murmurs softly in your neck. "You are so scared of my brother now. He has been warned not to play any games with you again. You are mine, little fox." He whispers. "Mine alone." Aemond declares, when kissing your cheeks of tears.

You chuckle a little nervously. That sounded an awful lot like treason. The worst of treason. Kingslaying, betrayal, murder and even kinslaying. "H-husband, you mustn't say such things. That could be treason-" If anyone heard him...

He is more interested in your lessons. "Did she told you to clench yourself when we fuck? Did she teach you how to milk me dry?" He asks.

Yet he hushes you.

"O, Hush. As if you give a fuck about my brother." He grins at you cheekily. "You must worry about your own fate, little fox. The things I'll do with you to make you repay your debt to me. To things I'd do with your holes and your body." He sighs as if he's picturing himself already cock deep inside of you.

You shake your head.

"No, I...I discovered it on my own." Aurelia only told you you were a slave and that you did not know Aemond. Not truly.

He grins approving.

"Naughty girl..." He touches your chin. You and him both forgot that he is partly covered in blood.

Aemond dryly stares at his fingers.

" I forgot I'm still covered in blood." He does not move however. He smiles at you. His wife. He waits for you to come up with a idea. He already knows you are clever, and he knows you want him to get rid of all the blood.

Aemond nods relaxingly when you finally touch his face. "I like my bath boiling hot, my little fox." He tells you with a wink. "Go prepare my bath for me."

You carefully make a suggestion.

"A bath might do you good. You have had a...intense night." You say softly. "I am sure we can find an unoccupied bathroom..." Aemond’s bathroom, for one.

You prepare the bath for your husband. Aemond first tests the water by entering one finger. You think of what else those fingers have entered and are turned wet. You quickly turn your head, avoiding your sinful thoughts as Aemond undresses himself, getting ready to sit in the bath. He sighs of relief and enjoyment when he finally lays in the big tub.

Aemond washes himself when you watch. He takes his time scrubbing the blood of his body and seems to be not aware of how nervous you are. You have been with your husband quite a few times by now but you never saw him or anyone bathe.

His bright eye goes open when he slightly lowers it into a glare. "Willa. Why are you so insecure?" His question comes out of nowhere. It hits you as a slap on your face. You freeze and stop breathing for a moment. So it is that obvious to him. Does he like it or does it annoy him?

You scold yourself for thinking of Aemond's preference first. These are your feelings not his. You need to be brave and strong now. Why do you care more for his preferences than the fact that these feelings hurt, kill and torment you beyond compare? They are the reason you nearly slept with a very unkind whore.

Aemond sinks back in the tub after your confession rubbing his forehead in thought as if he completely forgot that he once told you that.

You laugh but it's insincere.

"I mean, it's hard not to be. You vowed to me at the wedding after you first took me into your bed, a moment where you could have been kind, that many girls came to you and will come to you. That you would fuck other women. I could not satisfy my own husband enough that he would rather stay with me, his fresh wife. Instead he went to whores." You sound bitter. You are bitter. You hate how it still stings all those months later.

He does not answer. But then he does, and he blurts it out rather casually. "I apologize for making you feel that way." He apologizes now? Your brows raise in surprise. You must check the sky for pigs later.

You don't take his apology at first. You want to hurt him. To make him understand what he did with you. What his treason did with you. "I am not sure I can handle sharing you with so many. It is why I think I will never measure up and even wanted to fuck a whore for you." You want to hear he is sorry, but more importantly that he will never look at another woman again.

Aemond sighs deeply.

"That girl that I slept with..." that whore? What does he want to say? That whore at Wyldecrest? He never told you who it was.

He leans back, avoiding your eyes.

You glare boiling with rage.

"Yes?"

"I seem to have misremembered it." Misremember it? What does that mean? What does any of this mean? You are confused.

He has the audacity to smirk at you. As a naughty puppy who stole a biscuit. "It was an innocent little lie on my behalf." A lie. You will strangle him.

Yet your voice is sharp.

"Aemond?"

As an answer your husband growls and avoids you. So it is true. He was lying to you again. "Hm? You think I'm stupid? You are one of the richest families in Westeros. You might not be the richest, but your wealth outmatches every household in the North. You could barge into every house and throw a golden dragon at someone's feet before stealing their daughter away." He did so before. He did not even pay your family. He only killed them, at Aegon’s request.

Or perhaps this is a lie.

"I don't believe you. You did sleep with her and try to deny it now. Who would not come to you? How can anyone resist you?"

Aemond laughs, mockingly when you tear up. You married a monster. A beast. But his laugh is hollow. It is not real. And his smile falls when he speaks looking anywhere but your face. "Given the fact I am a mutilated half blind beast, most women find me unattractive and a monster. None were eager to crawl on top of me. This is why my brother got me a slave to blow off some steam." It is your eyes that avoid him now. He grabs your chin firmly so you are forced to look into his remaining good eye. His eye goes over your body, taking you in before growling in the shell of your ear."And to buy a whore? I don't buy my pleasures, Willa. I take them from their safe homes and I make them mine as you well know. It’s what I did with you.’’

Aemond growls thinking that you pity him. "I am a beast. A horrendous beast that no one would dare to curse themselves with." You lightly smack one of his hands and he hisses. You glare warning him of pushing you away again.

You are insulted by his reminder, you are insulted by him insulting your taste in men by insulting himself. Your face softens.

"You are beautiful..." You mutter to him and reach out to touch him.

You take hold of his face, caressing it gently. "You are not a monster." You tell him when leaning in, careful to not slip into the bath. He is surprised but doesn't stop you. You lean in closer, empowered by his silence and his curiosity. You feel brave and for the very first time... you feel beautiful. Wanted. Desired. And more...

You feel...

"You wicked little fox." He mutters to himself. "I am afraid that hitting your husband is a form of treason." He grins speaking to you. You smile.

Powerful.

In control for once.

You lean in and kiss Aemond on his lips before leaving dozens of little kisses over his face and even his scarred side. "There." You declare before moving away from him. He breathes out.

You recite a lesson that your septa told you long ago.``To fully forget and forgive one must face atonement for her sins." You don't think your maid would approve of your wicked plans with Aemond and yourself, but she is not here for it anymore.

You take off your fox fur coat and undo yourself of your nightgown when Aemond watches every movement you make from the bath. His voice is already affected by his lust being heavy and dark. "I agree, I didn't know the Old Gods believed in that as well." He is a Hightower. Half at least. Religion is in his blood.

Because Aemond killed her.

You ignore that thought, pausing it for now.

You tell him how you think it is. The old Gods, the new gods, the drowned god...it is all the same face. Perhaps they are all real, and you believe that. You believe they are all real and can co-exist. Just as many different people. "Gods are gods, husband. I like to think that just as all people, they have small things in common."

He nods, interested in your views. He does not mock you or laugh at you for not believing in his gods alone. "That is an interesting prospect. I can't say I thought of it before. You believe in all the gods, then?"

Do you? This conversation started so easily and now..."I, it's difficult husband. I believe there is something that keeps us safe. Something that drives us. My parents raised me with both the old Gods and the new. But perhaps there are more gods beyond those I've been raised with. Who am I to turn my back on gods because I wasn't raised with them?'

"You just crave approval." He murmurs to himself. "You are perfect." He finally has enough and moves on.

He is eying you with hunger and desire. "What will your attoment be, little fox? How will you pay for your sins?" He asks from the bath.

You laugh. "Sins? Are you a septon now?" You once had to call him master, he loves when you call him husband and loses control when you call him king so you are not that surprised.

Aemond thinks, smirking.

"No, not a Septon". ‘’Just your God. You worship me after all. When you nibble at my cock, when you beg me and cry for me. When you are on your knees for me..." You give a soft nod.

He warns you one final time.

"This won't be very pleasant for you, little fox. I will not hold back." He will hurt you. Good. You need to be hurt. You need to forget that you want to run away from him. You need to feel his desire and that he at least wants you. Now more than ever.

You lower your gaze.

"You may treat me as you wish."

He grins aroused by your consent.

"O, that never was not the case, little fox. You are my little pet and my little wife." You don't think you ever get used to Aemond's sharp tongue.

He gets out of the bath.

You look up to your husband.

"What will your attoment be?" You ask, causing him to nearly slip on the stone tiles.

He is shocked.

"I beg your pardon?" His voice is full of worry and offense. He finds it ridiculous that he must face punishment for his sins as you have for your own.

You are grabbed by your throat and choked. Aemond glares at you through his lashes and stops only when you are hushed and quiet. "Now, little fox. It works differently for me. You are a little WyldeWoods fox. I am a Dragon of the house Targaryen. The word "Blood" is in my house words." He tells you as if you are a foolish little girl.

You grin, explaining yourself.

It only makes sense. "if I am to be punished, you should be as well." It is only fair. "I have been unfaithful to you, and for that I will endure my punishment but you have killed. That is even worse-"

You stutter

"B-but-"

Aemond continues to glare at you. You nervously laugh. "Heh. You see, killing is why you need atonement not-"

He sharply pinches your left nipple. "No." He simply says.

"If you think you can punish me, you can try little fox, but I promise you, I will punish you back. You are already being naughty, defying your husband as this, making him wait for his much-earned reward for killing your enemies for you." He murmurs in your ear when you shiver by the thought of all the dead people just downstairs.

"Is that all you want me to suffer for?" He asks dryly.

You shake your head.

"For lying to me about the whore. For killing Aurelia-"

You feel guilty. Could you have talked her out of this? Had you not touched her, had Aemond not killed her? You will never know.

He groans annoyed.

"No one cared about Aurelia.' That is the truth. No one cared about Aurelia. Aegon only cared about her body. You only cared about what she could tell you about Aemond. And Aemond only cared what she had told you.

He reads you very well.

"She was not your friend, Little fox. She was another master for you to cling to. She played you." He says. You must believe him for your own sanity. Because you are not sure you can handle the thought of him killing a possible friend. Not again.

"You mustn't be frightened, little fox. You know by now that being under your husband's control is a good thing. You know I care for you and your...perversions." He mutters when sucking on your neck. You moan the way he likes. Soft and obedient.

You are pressed against the wall.

"H-husband?" You are pressed with your face into the wall when Aemond takes stand behind you, rubbing your ass when water drips everywhere.

He chuckles when you are frightened and worried. "One of these days you'll run out of excuses, or perhaps you cross a line where there is no coming back from. I'll throw you on your knees and finally, finally will fuck this tight little hole and claim you fully as my wife and my pet." He roars in your ear when rubbing you.

You give an absent, scared nod. You are terrified for that day. A blow is dealt to your bum, and you gasp when Aemond forces your hands to your entrance. He grabs your hands and lets them touch you. "Touch yourself gently with one finger. No rubbing or fucking. Just Touch softly." You obey, following his orders closely.

You turn wet against Aemond's front. "Good girl, let me see..." You are turned around and Aemond takes in your wet red and dripping cunt. He smirks when running his own fingers briefly over your folds. You shiver.

Aemond thinks for a while. "Get on all fours." You obey hesitant at first but allow yourself to crawl from your husband. Aemond nods approvingly when petting your head softly. "I am so sorry for what comes now, little fox. You will not enjoy it. I know you won't. But I need you." You try to escape but Aemond easily drags you back, sinking to his own knees as well. He forces your cunt against his front and with a deep rough trust enters you when you cry out in pain. "Nrgh!" Your cries echo through the room as Aemond sighs of pure delight.

You fall on your side, as Aemond chuckles in your ear. He is inside you, his cock pressed inside of you tightly. He makes himself at home, forcing the cock as deep and far as he can go. Until you are filled up entirely. You moan weakly and buck to get him off you but instead of stopping he smacks your behind and stars pounding.

Your face is pressed down and you feel the cock pound away at your pussy. You feel warm and wet and judging by his groans he enjoys himself. You cry weakly as Aemond takes you, unaware of your misery.

"I am nearly there." He promises you instead. "You are so tight for me, my fox. You were made for me. You fit me so well." You can only grunt softly and accept. Aemond becomes aggressive the moment you have surrendered, aroused by it. He groans before fucking you tightly and taking you when you cry and whimper. He is there. Almost there. You need to be brave and to keep strong. Any moment he can be satisfied.

You hesitantly buck back.

You clench your muscles as you did before. You feel him pound at your walls hitting different pleasure spots. Your vision blurs and you clench tighter. Aemond growls as an animal before fucking you on the painful stone floor. "Sstop..." You beg him helplessly.

He comes in his hands, rubbing it out over your face. You have cum and tears on your cheeks now. Aemond forces your head to his crotch and opens wide. You watch as his cock is entering your mouth. 'Clean your husband.' You suck him clean for him and you also lick his balls affectionately. Aemond fucks your mouth as well; but much lazier than he fucked your cunt. Your cunt is on fire and stings, burns and drips with cum and your own wetness. Aemond finished...

But you didn't.

"Good girl. You were so good today." He whispers. "I'm very pleased." You appreciate his kind words and lean into his touch.

"Shall I take a look?" He knows more about it than you do unfortunately. And that won't change for a while.

You make your voice a soft whisper when you rub yourself against his body forcing his fingers to touch your cunt.

"My cunny hurts." You whisper in his ear. Aemond grins but nods.

You nod once again.

"Yes please..."

You are a bit annoyed that he seems to repeat himself as well, when he might as well could fuck you. "I am already being punished. I am sorry.' You say.

He chuckles.

"You should not have gone to the whore, Willa. I don't like sharing you." you feel bad enough as it is about the dead people downstairs. He should not bring up your treasonous actions.

He chuckles darkly and you have your hair stand up on your arms.

"You will be, little fox. You will think twice about fucking any other person but me. No one else's cock will ever inject you and no other cock will bring you as high as I can. Is that understood?" You nod.

But he wants a verbal answer. So you give him what he wants.

"Yes, my Prince." You say.

Aemond notices your red glinstering wet cunt. "Yes. I see what the issue is." You are relieved. You hope it is not something serious or worse an illness.

Aemond growls.

"Master, you slut. Now spread wide, some me how pathetic and wet you are for me after my stern talking with you." You clumsily spread your legs for Aemond so he can inspect you.

Aemond nods before smacking your cunt. You cry out for mercy. He grins. "A classical case of a cunt due for a good fucking, as well as a greedy owner who wants to be owned as a slave." He tells you in your ear when rubbing your cunt with two fingers. You let him and gasp.

You feel your worry only grow.

"You do?"

You become aroused as the abuse continues. Aemond notices this and keeps from smacking you. "Your cunny thinks for you. I must teach you to use your little brain instead. Although, I doubt there is much over. I might have fucked it out of your head." He chuckles darkly. You nod, never agreeing to those words when you were not aroused but you agree to him so easily when you are aroused.

And he smacks down on it as well.

"Pathetic." Smack. "Ridiculous." Smack. You whimper aroused and yet terrified. "Pitiful." Smack.

Aemond sighs, letting his fingers go over you when you roll your hips and steady yourself. "Yes, this is the source of all our problems. Your sweet, little tight and wet cunny." He murmurs. "You like it when I touch it, don't you? Do you like this?' He briefly rubs you. You nod. "And this?' He fingers your folds, running his fingers over it. You nod again. "And finally..do you like this, you whore?" His fingers dig in three at once. You cry out in approval and wrap your legs around his arm desperately. You buck and moan.

After a while, Aemond stops you with a wicked grin on his lips, taking control of your pleasure once more. "Not so fast or the pleasure will fade. You will hold onto your pleasure until I fuck your cunny." You don't meet his eye. Aemond drags you by the hair and smacks you two times on your exposed cunt when you scream in pain or is it pure pleasure?

He grins.

"Fuck my fingers as if it is my cock. Make me proud, slut. Show me what you learned and how desperate you are for me." You nod, obeying your husband when he buries himself deep inside your extra wet and stretched out pussy. Your muscles and walls tighten around him and you let out the one after the other soft beg and plead.

"Is that understood?" He barks.

You are too aroused and nod when moaning. You hope he is satisfied.

"Y-yes..." You take the fingers deeper and more rougher. You need to chase it. You want to chase it.

Aemond rolls his eye.

He wants verbal answers and you keep forgetting. "Is that understood?" He barks before hitting you once more. You nod eagerly, not sure you can keep your promise if he hits another time.

Aemond notices your change very well and removes his fingers with a cruel smirk when you gasp as they are pulled from deep inside of you. Helplessly wet you gawk at him. "Good girl." He gives you a pat on the head before shoving a finger in your mouth. You imagine it's his thick shaft and lick it clean for him of your own wetness. You taste delicious.

"You are such a cumslut." He whispers in your ear. "Come here, my little fox." You obey. You scootch over to him, following him blindly.

You need to find pleasure. "Husband, I am nearly there."

So you do which much effort you do. "Yes." Followed by a very soft and timid. "Please master."

The kinslayer laughs cruelly.

"I know, you slut. Your cunt felt even more tight than usual. Do you wish for me to fuck you senseless and to make you spend as a dirty whore?" He waits for your answer. He wants to hear you say it.

"Now, follow back into the bedchamber." He commands you with a wink. You follow him.

He is pleased. Of course he is.

"Little fox, fetch me my robe." You obey and faithfully hand him his robe when he covers himself.

Aemond takes you back to your shared bedchamber. Instead of asking if you want to lay down, he grabs your ass and smacks down his hands on it, groaning when giving you an order. "On the bed with you." Excitement makes master of you as you are ordered on the bed.

You sit obediently and await for your husband to come out and play.

#dark aemond fic #hotd #SnowFallsAtWyldeCrest #non-con #smut #mentions of cheating #agression issues #jealousy #graphic descriptions #gore #mentions of murder #dark old work #AFAB Reader #Dark #head the warnings #writing #old work

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