#even with muses I've tried to bring back

[seeasunset]

☆ I apologize for not being on this blog as much, but after some thinking, I will be putting this blog on low-activity and will likely not be logging onto this blog as much compare to my other blog. I've been noticing how much I've been logging less and less on this blog for months. Possibly since July, which only grew the more I've spent time on my OC blog.

After two years of writing Vasco, his muse kinda died off, which makes me sad. Just because I enjoy writing him. I enjoy creating verses for him and creating lore or even building off of what we have gotten within the first game. Unfortunately, no matter how much I've tried to poke him, he couldn't make a come back.

Now, this doesn't mean I'm going to stop being in the Greedfall fandom. I will continue to be in said fandom, but will be making another blog for another Greedfall character. I also have a Greedfall verse for my OC.

If you wish to continue to interact in any type of way, feel free to follow me on @starlixir

[princesssarisa]

In the past I've shared other people's musings about the different interpretations of the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. Namely, why Orpheus looks back at Eurydice, even though he knows it means he'll lose her forever. So many people seem to think they've found the one true explanation of the myth. But to me, the beauty of myths is that they have many possible meanings.

So I thought I would share a list of every interpretation I know, from every serious adaptation of the story and every analysis I've ever heard or read, of why Orpheus looks back.

One interpretation – advocated by Monteverdi's opera, for example – is that the backward glance represents excessive passion and a fatal lack of self-control. Orpheus loves Eurydice to such excess that he tries to defy the laws of nature by bringing her back from the dead, yet that very same passion dooms his quest fo fail, because he can't resist the temptation to look back at her.

He can also be seen as succumbing to that classic "tragic flaw" of hubris, excessive pride. Because his music and his love conquer the Underworld, it might be that he makes the mistake of thinking he's entirely above divine law, and fatally allows himself to break the one rule that Hades and Persephone set for him.

Then there are the versions where his flaw is his lack of faith, because he looks back out of doubt that Eurydice is really there. I think there are three possible interpretations of this scenario, which can each work alone or else co-exist with each other. From what I've read about Hadestown, it sounds as if it combines all three.

In one interpretation, he doubts Hades and Persephone's promise. Will they really give Eurydice back to him, or is it all a cruel trick? In this case, the message seems to be a warning to trust in the gods; if you doubt their blessings, you might lose them.

Another perspective is that he doubts Eurydice. Does she love him enough to follow him? In this case, the warning is that romantic love can't survive unless the lovers trust each other. I'm thinking of Moulin Rouge!, which is ostensibly based on the Orpheus myth, and which uses Christian's jealousy as its equivalent of Orpheus's fatal doubt and explicitly states "Where there is no trust, there is no love."

The third variation is that he doubts himself. Could his music really have the power to sway the Underworld? The message in this version would be that self-doubt can sabotage all our best efforts.

But all of the above interpretations revolve around the concept that Orpheus looks back because of a tragic flaw, which wasn't necessarily the view of Virgil, the earliest known recorder of the myth. Virgil wrote that Orpheus's backward glance was "A pardonable offense, if the spirits knew how to pardon."

In some versions, when the upper world comes into Orpheus's view, he thinks his journey is over. In this moment, he's so ecstatic and so eager to finally see Eurydice that he unthinkingly turns around an instant too soon, either just before he reaches the threshold or when he's already crossed it but Eurydice is still a few steps behind him. In this scenario, it isn't a personal flaw that makes him look back, but just a moment of passion-fueled carelessness, and the fact that it costs him Eurydice shows the pitilessness of the Underworld.

In other versions, concern for Eurydice makes him look back. Sometimes he looks back because the upward path is steep and rocky, and Eurydice is still limping from her snakebite, so he knows she must be struggling, in some versions he even hears her stumble, and he finally can't resist turning around to help her. Or more cruelly, in other versions – for example, in Gluck's opera – Eurydice doesn't know that Orpheus is forbidden to look back at her, and Orpheus is also forbidden to tell her. So she's distraught that her husband seems to be coldly ignoring her and begs him to look at her until he can't bear her anguish anymore.

These versions highlight the harshness of the Underworld's law, and Orpheus's failure to comply with it seems natural and even inevitable. The message here seems to be that death is pitiless and irreversible: a demigod hero might come close to conquering it, but through little or no fault of his own, he's bound to fail in the end.

Another interpretation I've read is that Orpheus's backward glance represents the nature of grief. We can't help but look back on our memories of our dead loved ones, even though it means feeling the pain of loss all over again.

Then there's the interpretation that Orpheus chooses his memory of Eurydice, represented by the backward glance, rather than a future with a living Eurydice. "The poet's choice," as Portrait of a Lady on Fire puts it. In this reading, Orpheus looks back because he realizes he would rather preserve his memory of their youthful, blissful love, just as it was when she died, than face a future of growing older, the difficulties of married life, and the possibility that their love will fade. That's the slightly more sympathetic version. In the version that makes Orpheus more egotistical, he prefers the idealized memory to the real woman because the memory is entirely his possession, in a way that a living wife with her own will could never be, and will never distract him from his music, but can only inspire it.

Then there are the modern feminist interpretations, also alluded to in Portrait of a Lady on Fire but seen in several female-authored adaptations of the myth too, where Eurydice provokes Orpheus into looking back because she wants to stay in the Underworld. The viewpoint kinder to Orpheus is that Eurydice also wants to preserve their love just as it was, youthful, passionate, and blissful, rather than subject it to the ravages of time and the hardships of life. The variation less sympathetic to Orpheus is that Euyridice was at peace in death, in some versions she drank from the river Lethe and doesn't even remember Orpheus, his attempt to take her back is selfish, and she prefers to be her own free woman than be bound to him forever and literally only live for his sake.

With that interpretation in mind, I'm surprised I've never read yet another variation. I can imagine a version where, as Orpheus walks up the path toward the living world, he realizes he's being selfish: Eurydice was happy and at peace in the Elysian Fields, she doesn't even remember him because she drank from Lethe, and she's only following him now because Hades and Persephone have forced her to do so. So he finally looks back out of selfless love, to let her go. Maybe I should write this retelling myself.

Are any of these interpretations – or any others – the "true" or "definitive" reason why Orpheus looks back? I don't think so at all. The fact that they all exist and can all ring true says something valuable about the nature of mythology.

[letbludcook]

warning. explicit sexual content

tags. creampie, slight dumbification, blud tried to be gentle only to end up ravaging you, idiots in love type of fucking

you and him having sex for the first time and he's so annoyingly gentle as if you're made of fragile glass. the fact that he still managed to make you cum with his fingers despite all that baffled you.

but then, just right after you came, he hesitates putting his dick inside. he gets out of bed, says something along the lines of "let me get us a bath," until he hears you huff a sob. he turns to you again only to see you touching yourself. begging him, perhaps out of spite, to drop the hesitation.

you're a big girl—his girl, even—and that means you'd be able to take all of him. you know what made him walk back to bed, pet your head, pepper you kisses, and mutter apologies?

"i've been prepping myself like this every night, been imagining you inside me for as long as i can remember."

you incoherently moan your grievances—of how much you need him, of how desperate you are to feel his dick slamming you, of your yearning to hear the slushing wet sounds of his balls slapping against your skin as he pushes even deeper, and most of all, of his cum flooding you at the peak of it all.

what a bad man he is, he thinks to himself, as he pulls your fingers out of your cunt. he brings it to his mouth, holding back a chuckle.

"prepping yourself with this, darling?" he muses, then sucks on your fingers clean, savoring your taste. you nod, pathetically so, and he shakes his head. "but these pretty little fingers are far from enough if we're talking about prepping."

it's the thought that counts, though—his gentle apology kiss on your hand tells you that much. and you quickly come to understand his point when he replaces your fingers with his actual dick.

"you see?"

then he thrusts inside.

god, it is indeed not enough to prep you.

"b-but, yeah," he rasps, then there goes another thrust, "it must be hard for you, no?" he thrusts again; you gape your mouth open, "never knew you like me—fuck, baby—this much."

hell you do like him so much; if you're not a babbling mess you'd be able to throw a banter, but he sucks on your nipple, quickly earning your forgiveness.

"mind repeating what you said earlier?"

which one? you ask in your mind, physically incapable to speak as soon as his fingers flick on your clit.

"you want my cum flooding you? you like me that much to let me do that, huh?"

"yes!" you wail, oh the things that could bring you back from being dumbed by this man. "b-been—hah—yearning for it, please."

his approving hum thereafter just tells how pleasured he'd be to do that. you really are no fragile glass he must mind touching. you're his girl, his woman, and you own every crevice of his body. if you wish a hard one, then a hard one you'll get.

it doesn't take long for him to lose control as per your wishes—his dick slamming, the wet slaps of your skin echoing inside your bedroom in synch with your cries and his growls. much to your pleasure, he eventually traps your legs down so it wouldn't escape as he cums.

you're trapped—helplessly bound, wrists on top of your head by his hand—because you want to. because you wish for it. when he buries his dick deep inside you feel his seed gushing, emptying, as he struggles to flutter his eyes open because he wants to see your face while he empties himself. it brought you to a seemingly endless bliss.

you two take your pretty time coming off your highs.

and despite your weakened state, you still sit up to look down as his cum drips from your cunt.

you giggle softly, thinking; this wouldn't be the last time you'd ask him to do this.

ERWIN smith, LEVI ackerman, WOLFGANG grimmer, KENZO tenma, GOJO satoru, AKI hayakawa, etc.

[smileysuh]

ghost house

🌙 starring. Lee Donghyuck x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. You stand up, going to inspect the out-of-place panties lying next to your hamper. When you bend down, you see a translucent sort of outline, and it’s not your own spunk marring the fabric. It’s undoubtedly ghost cum, which is the oddest thing to realize- and you’re pretty sure it’s fresh. Your skin tingles at the notion. Somewhere in this house, Hyuck is coming down from a recent orgasm that he’d clearly achieved by using your panties. You’re a witch, but this is sinful, even for you.

tw/cw. Voyeurism, unprotected sex with a ghost, Hyuck is a repressed perv, he’s not a virgin but he’s not experienced either, pantie sniffer Hyuck, Hyuck watching y/n masturbate using ghost powers, Hyuck using y/n’s panties to cum in, weird ghost cum, Hyuck is a switch but leans more submissive at parts, self asphyxiation/choking, y/n punishes Hyuck for being a naughty ghostie, making Hyuck watch her masturbate without touching himself, fingering, oral (f receiving), pussy drunk/addict hyuck, overstimulation, hair pulling, hyuck cums and y/n decides to keep riding him, hyuck likes to be choked, dirty talk, hyuck has a good boy kink, praise kink, degradation/humiliation, finger sucking, face riding, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, etc… I pet names: (hers) princess. (Haechan’s) ghostie, baby.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 8.3k

🍭 aus. ghost!hyuck, witch!reader, supernatural au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I've never written Hyuck this subby/switchy, but I think it worked, he still has his dom moments, but this man is a near virgin, little, repressed for 20 years ghost shit head who wants to be told he's a good boy, and I'm not even mad about it

Prologue:

“It’s a little unusual for prospective tenants to bring a pet along,” the shy man showing you the house murmurs, watching the way your cat follows you through the halls of the old building.

“Well, it’s important that Pluto likes it here,” you muse, casting your gaze down to your little dark shadow as he darts here and there, chasing orbs and specks of dust that illuminate in the rays of sun streaming through the murky windows. “How long has it been since you had a renter?”

“Too long,” Mark Lee sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “In all honesty, I’m sure you know the reputation this place has.”

“It’s the Ghost House,” you respond, turning to stare at the relative of a man who’d lost his life in this location twenty or so years ago. 

“My family hasn’t even tried to rent it out in recent years, but then you found me on Facebook and asked for a showing, I figured, what could it hurt?”

“I guess you don’t believe that this place is haunted?” you inquire, studying the tired, mundane man while Pluto curls around your feet.

“I haven’t spent enough time here to decide what I think,” Mark admits. “My family needs income, and if you’re willing to rent this place out, for half of what you could find anywhere else, we’d love for you to take it. Ghosts, or no ghosts.”

“I’m betting on the ghost aspect,” you tease, looking down at Pluto and following his gaze to a shadowy form at the end of the hall. “I’ll take it.”

One

You’ve been in your new Ghost House for over a month, and in that time, Hyuck has realized you’re no ordinary tenant.

It had started with the way your cat reacted to him, following him around, not scared in the slightest. And then, Hyuck had noticed the way you’d tracked your black cat Pluto with your own eyes, using the animal to try to focus in on Hyuck himself.

At first, he’d thought you were some sort of clairvoyant or wanna-be ghost hunter, but then, you’d pulled out a Grimoire and a cauldron and Hyuck had realized you were more along the lines of a witch. 

When you’d first moved in, Hyuck had relished the idea of haunting you out of the house, but now he finds himself to be the one that’s haunted.

He can’t get a moment's peace without your cat following him all over the place, and where your cat goes, you quickly follow. Hyuck has taken to going to the attic, where the door can’t be pushed open by a determined kitty. He fucking hates the attic.

He’s sitting amidst some cobwebs, contemplating how badly he’d fucked up in life to get to this situation, when the attic door creaks on its hinges.

Your head pops through the hole. Your gaze shifts around, and Hyuck could swear your irises look exceptionally feline-esque when they land on him. “Why are you hiding?”

You can’t actually be talking to him. You can’t actually be seeing him- it shouldn’t be possible, and yet, here it is, happening.

“Come now, Donghyuck, are you skulking?”

“Fuck off,” he mutters.

“Is that any way to speak to a witch who’s here to help you?” you laugh.

You’d definitely heard him, and the realization makes a cold shiver run up his spine. Hyuck stands up, approaching you. He waits for you to flinch or pull away, but you don’t, you simply watch him until he’s a few feet away.

“How are you seeing me right now?” he asks.

“I’ve been testing out spells with personal objects of yours that I’ve stumbled upon in the house, nothing works quite like a photo, I’ve found,” you explain. “It’s good to finally see you. I’d hoped to meet you properly within the first week, but it’s been a whole month now of us living together, which feels awfully rude of me.”

“What’s rude is your stupid cat following me around everywhere.” When Hyuck takes a peek down the attic entry manhole, he finds your feline friend at the foot of the ladder, looking up at him with inquisitive eyes.

“Pluto is just doing his job, he was raised to see spirits. The Roman God of the Dead is his namesake after all.”

“The Roman God of the Dead?” Hyuck’s nose scrunches up in distaste. He flunked grade twelve, not that Roman deities were on the learning agenda.

“Forget about it, would you like to come down and talk with me for a while? Now that I can see you and communicate, I think we should have a chat.” You study him carefully. “Although, I will note that until I find a better spell, I’ll only be able to see you like this until your photo stops burning, which could be ten minutes or twenty.”

The pathological demand avoidance in Hyuck makes him want to refuse you, but at the same time, he hasn’t spoken to anyone in over twenty years, not since that night when everything had gone so wrong- 

It helps that you’re a cute girl.

With a sigh, Hyuck agrees, following you down to the living room where he finds a makeshift alter, his picture in the center of it, its edges charred. The space smells like some sort of incense, Hyuck can’t pin it, and for the first time in twenty years, Hyuck actually feels something akin to fear.

As the Ghost of the House, Hyuck has always been the one with the power. He’s been the one who scared off the first few tenants with knocks late at night, phone calls in the early hours, and even wearing a sheet to scare off the children young enough to be susceptible to seeing him.

But in this situation, sitting on the nicest chair in the room, your cat lounging on your lap, Hyuck realizes that the power of a ghost is no match to that of a witch. You look like a Goddess, or a queen- energy radiating off of you now that you’re near your alter, and it makes Hyuck’s skin tingle.

“So?” Hyuck asks after sitting in uncomfortable silence for what felt like ages.

“So?” you echo, quirking a brow.

“Why are you here?” he clarifies with a huff of frustration. “Why are you trying so hard to communicate with me?”

“I’m mostly here because the rent is less than half of what I could get anywhere else, and it’s a whole house, so that felt like a no-brainer in this economy,” you laugh. “Although, seeing as you’ve been dead for over twenty years, I’m not going to give you a lesson on rent increase and the cost of living in this day and age. As a witch, I thought this would be a very interesting house to live in, and I’ve been trying to communicate with you, because the way I see it, you’re practically my roommate. We share this house, and I’d like for things to go smoothly.”

“Smoothly,” Hyuck lets out a laugh.

“If you’d rather I exhume your remains and send you to Hell, that can be arranged too.” 

Hyuck feels his throat go dry. 

“That’s what I thought,” you grin. “So what do you say, roommates?”

“Fine. But I’m tired of the attic.”

“You put yourself there,” you point out.

“Look, you be nice to me, I be nice to you,” Hyuck suggests. “Fair?”

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Ghost boy.”

Two 

Living with you actually isn’t so bad. Hyuck’s gotten used to Pluto following him around, but you generally keep to yourself, and he appreciates that trait.

Sure, you get up to witch mojo, and the house smells like all sorts of herbs and shit half the time, but Hyuck has taken to living mostly in the room that used to be his own. He prefers the south-facing space to the dark attic, and although life is boring most of the time, it’s still better than whatever afterlife Hyuck could expect as a man who accidentally took his own life at the ripe age of twenty-three.

Sometimes he likes to come see what you’re up to. He’s taken to watching you cook breakfast and dinner for yourself. You play music he’s never heard before, and the way you shake your hips always has his heart racing.

Pluto notifies you of his presence, but without an alter burning, he’s pretty sure you can only see his outline at best. You clearly don’t mind an audience, and Hyuck spends hours every week simply enjoying you.

It’s interesting to have a roommate that acknowledges him, a roommate that keeps the peace. But at the same time, part of Hyuck misses his old poltergeist ways.

You’ve reformed him. He’s a reformed ghost now, and Hyuck isn’t quite sure what to make of this peaceful living arrangement. It’s much more peaceful than things had been when he’d been alive.

He’d never had a girlfriend. Never had someone to create a sense of belonging, and somehow, he finds that much-needed peace with you. He wonders what life could have been like if he hadn’t taken those drugs that fateful night, if he hadn’t been so lonely that it hurt everywhere, if he hadn’t tried to dull the ache with pills.

“Come on, Donghyuck,” your voice draws him out of his pining thoughts, and you turn from the soup you’re making to stare in his general direction. “I can see your outline, dance with me. You always just stand there and stare, be a good Ghostie Boy, and shake your ass a little.”

Your words make Hyuck’s skin heat. He’s a ghost for Christ's sake, you can't go around objectifying him like this-

“Just a lil swivel,” you grin, showing him with your own hips.

Fuck. You’re hot. You’re so fucking hot, and Hyuck is tired of pretending you’re not. 

He begins to shimmy, and he’s rewarded by a melodic giggle that escapes you and fills the kitchen. “That’s it,” you encourage him. “I know you’re not used to this kind of music, but it’s fun!”

Hyuck has to admit that he’s been enjoying the crash course in new media you’ve been giving him. From music to movies to books he haphazardly reads over your shoulders- this new age is something else, and it’s full of uncensored raunchy sex that makes him hornier than he’d ever been when he was alive.

The music you’re listening to is full of explicit lyrics, lyrics about eating pussy, and a pretty girl riding a man’s face- it’s been driving him wild, and in the late night hours, when you’re peacefully asleep one room over, Hyuck hasn’t been able to help himself.

He’s been stroking himself to the thought of you lately. He’s wondered what you’d taste like, what your body would feel like under his hands- He wonders what faces you’d make, the sounds-

This life is a little bit of Heaven, but a little bit of Hell too. 

He can’t touch you, can’t taste you, can’t fuck you the way he’s been wanting to-

Leave it to him to fall in love with a sexy witch and add to his own torment. 

Three 

Hyuck can hear your whimpers through the wall. The sound makes his entire body tingle, and before he can stop himself, he’s shrugging his jeans down and wrapping his hand around his aching cock.

Your sex drive hasn’t been as… intense as his, in fact, he’s not sure if you’ve ever touched yourself since you moved in. Or maybe, you’ve just been quiet, it’s hard to tell.

When you’re in your room, Hyuck gives you privacy. Pluto would probably alert you to his presence if he ever did try to get a look at you naked, and Hyuck doesn’t want to risk your witchy wrath.

But tonight? Fuck, hearing your sounds makes him want to risk everything.

Going to Hell would be worth it for a look at your form.

The ghost shuffles closer to the wall, taking deep breaths as he strokes his aching cock. 

One peak won’t hurt, will it?

Hyuck doesn’t often walk through walls or make use of his ghostly powers, but it’s simple enough for him to push his head through the wall. He just goes as far as his face, keeping himself half-suspended in the barrier between rooms.

Your space is dark aside from a few candles burning, and it takes Hyuck a moment for his eyes to adjust. His gaze lands on you, tangled amidst your bedsheets.

You’re naked, head dipped back against the pillows, one hand between your thighs while the other pinches at your nipples.

Fuck, Hyuck almost busts then and there. He has to stop the motions on his cock, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

Pluto is nowhere to be seen, and with your eyes closed, the room mostly dark, Hyuck doubts you’d see his outline even if you did look directly at the one space along your wall that he’s watching from.

This is the perfect scenario for him, and he licks his lips as he watches the way you tease your clit, letting out soft whimpers.

You’re wet, Hyuck can see how wet you are, and it makes his mouth water with need. His cock throbs as he begins to slowly stroke it again, teasing his thumb along the tip.

The way you’re pinching at your nipples is making the ghost want to mark you up with his teeth. He wants to bury his face in your chest and lick you, sucking your perky-looking buds until you’re begging for him-

A movement of your other hand captures his attention, and Hyuck watches as you slide one finger into your core, releasing a moan that has his entire body shaking.

One digit quickly becomes two, and as you stroke your inner walls, the sound of your wet heat becomes audible to the fly on the wall, who pumps his shaft even harder. 

Your hips begin to wiggle against your own touch, and Hyuck wonders how good you’d look on top of him, writhing against his cock-

You release your breast in favor of playing with your clit, both hands now between your beautiful thighs. From the sounds escaping you, Hyuck thinks you’re close, and his entire body aches. He tries to slow himself down, he wants to match your speed, wants to reach that climax with you-

Something brushes by Hyuck’s leg and he jumps, tearing himself out of your room to look down at the cat who’s appeared by his foot. “Fuck, not now, Pluto,” he hisses.

Pluto purs in response, and with an exasperated sigh, Hyuck decides to ignore your cat. Fuck it, he needs to cum, and he needs to be watching you cum-

Pushing his face back into your room, Hyuck manages to catch you just in time to see your back arch. A soft gasp of contentment leaves your lips, your hands shaking as your orgasm rushes over you-

Hyuck can’t help himself, his own body simply reacts, his cock throbbing intensely as his own release hits him. He bites down on his lip, pumping his shaft with his eyes glued to your form.

You ride out your orgasms together, and yet, apart. 

You’re a scary witch, but you’re none the wiser about the ghost voyeur committing every one of your movements to memory. 

Finally, Hyuck can’t take the sensation anymore, and he stops, pulling his head out of your room. He’s no stranger to ghost cum, it’s this odd, translucent goo-

When he looks down after pulling up his pants, Hyuck realizes he’s sprayed the wall, and narrowly missed Pluto, but the cat is looking at his spunk as if he can see it-

Hyuck’s never had an animal in the house before. He knows that usually, his ghost jizz disappears after a while, but if the cat were to try to touch it-

“Pluto, no!” Hyuck whispers, trying to block the animal with his hands.

The cat has brushed by Hyuck before, so Hyuck’s pretty sure the cat won’t go through his hands-

Instead, Pluto tries to go around Hyuck’s hands, and the ghost’s heart lurches in his cold chest.

“Fuck, stop!” he says, voice getting louder. 

The cat meows obnoxiously, and Hyuck hears a sound in your room-

Hyuck doesn’t have time for this, he’s not about to get caught one room over after you’ve just orgasmed. The ghost does the only thing he can think of doing, he jumps down to the ground to hide behind the bed. 

Luckily, Pluto seems more interested in him than his ghost cum on the wall, and begins to follow. The bedroom door is pushed open, drawing Pluto’s attention from following Hyuck.

“Pluto?” you call. “What are you doing in here?”

Hyuck can feel his heart in his throat, and he cowers further under the bed, afraid that if you see any of his shadowy figure, you’ll exorcize him or something. 

There’s a few moments of tight tension, and then Pluto pads away from Hyuck to join you at the door.

“Silly kitty,” you coo, picking up your pet. “Let’s go make you some dinner.”

The door closes behind you and Hyuck lets out a deep breath.

That had been much too close for him.

Four 

It’s been about a week since Hyuck watched you finger fuck yourself to completion, and he’s doing his best to avoid you. He gets a half-chub every time he looks at you for Christ’s sake, and while part of him feels justified in his voyeurism - he is a ghost after all - another part of him feels dirty about it. 

Hyuck feels like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders every time you leave the house, and today, he watches you get into your car and drive off before he heads to your room. He’s been curious about a few things, but you hardly ever leave the property, so he hasn’t had the time and the balls to follow his wishes until now.

Your bedroom door is closed, and it’s as easy as stepping through it for Hyuck to invade your space.

He tries to calm himself, tries to take his time looking at items you’ve collected. There’s a stack of books that thrum with power, he stays away from them. Jewels and crystals litter a vanity table also covered in various perfume bottles, and Hyuck bends down to smell one, overcome by the scent of florals that always follows you through the house. Lastly, Hyuck goes over to the laundry hamper. 

The ghost is overjoyed by what greets him. Sitting on top of a pile of sweaters, is a lacy thong. Hyuck sinks to his knees, bending over the hamper and bringing his nose as close to the panties as possible. He takes a deep breath, eyes closing as the scent overwhelms him: this is so much better than florals.

Now he really feels dirty, but there’s something so freeing in it. He’s a dirty little ghostie, and Hyuck is beginning to revel in it. 

He’s been a spirit for so many years, and he’s gotten adept at poltergeist-type activity. Sure, he’s usually only ever used it to throw books around, or open cupboards, or… you know, wear bedsheets to scare the shit out of the kids who show up and trespass around Halloween, but… grabbing a pair of panties shouldn’t be that hard. 

With a shaky hand, Hyuck reaches into the hamper. He focuses his energy to his fingertips, and after a deep breath, when he touches your panties, he can feel the lace. Hyuck lifts the fabric out of the hamper, collapsing onto his knees next to it and shimmying his pants down.

Then, he wraps his panty-clad hand around his cock, throwing his head back to let out a sigh of relief. There’s something so sexy about jacking off using your underwear as friction- there’s a small, juicy spot along the fabric, and Hyuck’s majorly tempted to lick at it, but he feels like that’s a line he shouldn’t cross. 

Instead, he pumps his cock harder, letting out soft whimpers. Hyuck’s head lolls forward again, chin tucked down to his chest. His eyes open so he can stare at your cute panties as he strokes himself off with them, and the sight alone has his dick twitching. 

Hyuck grits his teeth, his abdominal muscles flexing with effort. He can’t help but rut toward his hand now, and each stroke of your lacey thong against his aching cock has him closer and closer-

There’s a sound downstairs, and it makes Hyuck’s heart leap in his chest. You’re home again already?

He tightens his grip on his length, determined to cum before he gets caught. He can’t stop now, not when he’s so close to a much-needed release- 

As the sound of you coming up the stairs limits his time more and more, the idea of getting caught actually adds to Hyuck’s pleasure. Before he knows what he’s doing, one of Hyuck’s hands is raising to his throat. He throws his head back, applying just a bit of pressure- it’s enough to have him grunting, the cord in his stomach snapping as his orgasm takes over.

Waves of pleasure wash through his entire body, his grip tightening on his throat and making it all the more intense. He can feel his spunk shooting onto your panties, which he holds over his tip as he pumps his aching cock, getting out every last drop-

He can hear you humming as you come down the hall, and in Hyuck’s post-orgasmic haze, he doesn’t have time to think. He simply drops your panties on the floor and stumbles to his feet, stepping through the wall just as your door opens.

He collapses again in the other room, pulling up his pants and trying to catch his breath.

Five 

It had been a quick run to get cat food for Pluto, and when you arrive back at your room, you hardly even notice that something is out of place. First, you open your blinds, peaking out at the evening setting sun. Then you go to sit on your bed to take off your socks, as you’re about to toss them to your hamper, you notice something on the floor.

It’s a pair of your lacy panties, and you’re a hundred percent sure they hadn’t been on the floor when you’d left.

With your bedroom door closed, Pluto couldn’t have gotten into your things, which leaves one culprit.

Hyuck.

You’ve suspected the ghost has had a growing crush on you for a while, after all, he is a man who’s been alone in this house for years, but this is your first real evidence of it.

You stand up, going to inspect the out-of-place panties lying next to your hamper. When you bend down, you see a translucent sort of outline, and it’s not your own spunk marring the fabric.

It’s undoubtedly ghost cum, which is the oddest thing to realize- and you’re pretty sure it’s fresh.

Your skin tingles at the notion. Somewhere in this house, Hyuck is coming down from a recent orgasm that he’d clearly achieved by using your panties.

You’re a witch, but this is sinful, even for you.

For a moment, you simply stare at your panties, and then, you decide to do something about it. Going to your Grimoire, you open to a page bookmarked by multiple photos. They’re pictures of Hyuck that you’d found in the attic. You’d saved them for a rainy day when you’d need to contact him with a full-body apparition again, and it looks like today is the day.

Grabbing the largest one, you take the photo and your Grimoire down to the alter in the living room. While you have an alter of sorts in your bedroom, the one powered by the direct sun on your table by the south-facing window is the most appropriate for something like this.

You make quick work of a spell to bind the ghost to the waking world, and with a last few sprinkles of spices and some dried herbs, you place the photo in the center, using a lighter along the bottom edge.

“Hyuck?” you call, turning toward the room. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

You hear someone whisper, “Fuck,” and you turn to see Hyuck scampering toward the staircase. 

“Are you seriously going to make me chase you?”

“Don’t exorcize me!” he screams, taking the stairs two at a time.

His words make you laugh. “I have a different type of exercise planned,” you retort, but it doesn’t do anything to slow him down. “Seriously, Hyuck, calm down!”

You make it to the second level, and you know where he’s snuck into. He may have closed the door quietly, but you’ve lived with the ghost long enough to know which room he’s staked a claim over.

Taking an amused breath, you knock gently. “Hyuck,” you sing-song, “I’m not mad. Just let me in.”

“You’re gonna exorcize me.”

You sigh again. “Hyuck, open this door, right now.”

You hate to use your dommy-mommy voice on him, but he’s trying your patience, and you only have as long as it takes for his photo to burn, which, due to your magic, probably gives you about half an hour, give or take.

“If you do not open this door, I will open it for you, and your punishment will be worse,” you warn him.

A moment later, the door creaks open ajar, and you push it the rest of the way.

“I’m sorry,” Hyuck tells you, standing there with his shoulders hunched.

“For what?” you enquire, leaning on the frame and crossing your arms over your chest.

“For running.”

“And?” you prompt.

“For uh…” you watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows thickly, bowing his head, “for uh… using your panties.” 

“Using them how?” You’re kind of enjoying watching him like this. He might have his own weird kinks, but this might just be one of your own.

“Well, you know…” his skin is turning pink.

“I don’t know. I want you to tell me what you did with them. Don’t leave out a single detail you bad ghost boy.”

Hyuck’s gaze lifts to meet yours, but he’s quick to look away again. “Well, I mean, I was just looking at them at first.”

“At first. And then what?”

“Well, I just wanted to touch them.”

“Liar,” you scoff. “I bet you wrapped them around your cock and jerked off with them, didn’t you?”

Hyuck’s ears have turned pink now, and when his hands go in front of his body, you realize he’s trying to hide a half-chub that’s growing in his pants.

The little freak is into this.

God, he’s endearing. 

“Admit it,” you instruct. “If you admit it, I’ll go easy on you.”

Hyuck takes a breath. “Yes, I used your panties to cum.”

You study the ghost.

“Good boy,” you say finally. His eyes lift to meet yours, his lips parting. “Come to my room.”

You don’t wait for him to respond, you simply turn and expect him to follow. When you get to your room, you collapse onto the bed. 

“Close the door,” you instruct next. “Be a good boy and light my candles for me too.” 

As he begins to follow through with your commands, you stretch, letting out a sigh from the feeling of your tight muscles. Then, you lift off your shirt, tossing it at Hyuck while his back is to you, his fingers fumbling with a lighter.

Hyuck freezes, then turns to look at you.

“Have you watched me before, dirty ghostie?” you ask, going to remove your pants next.

The way he swallows tells you everything you need to know.

“Well, you are a bad, naughty, dirty, little ghostie, aren’t you, Hyuck?” you grin, tossing your jeans at him.

Laying in your bra and panties, you watch him finish lighting your candles, then he comes to stand at the foot of the bed, clearly waiting on instruction. He’s trying to cover the front of his pants again, and it makes you laugh.

“Move your hands,” you tell him. “You know, honestly, I’m a little surprised at how easy it was for you to get hard again. You came, what? Ten minutes ago? Fifteen?”

He’s so bashful he can hardly answer, and it’s an adorable sight.

“Here are the rules,” you say, “I’m going to make myself cum. After that, I’ll let you make me cum. And if you can get through all of that teasing without touching yourself, if you can prove to me you’re a good ghostie who can follow instructions, I’ll fuck you. How does that sound?”

Hyuck’s gaze watches your hand slip between your thighs, your legs opening wider, and he unconsciously licks his lips. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay… mistress?”

You laugh at his attempt to please you. “I was looking for a thank you.”

“Right, yeah, thank you, I can follow instructions,” he fumbles to correct himself. 

“Then be a good boy and put your hands behind yourself. I don’t want you touching anything. Don’t want you covering anything either, got it?” Your words come out breathy as you begin to stroke your core through your panties. “I especially don’t want to see your hands all shaky, that’s just embarrassing, ghost boy.”

Why are you enjoying this so much? Why are you enjoying the degradation of a man who died over twenty years ago?

From Hyuck’s reactions it’s clear he’s never been spoken to like this. Sure, domination and submission were things back in the day, but there must be something about your specific 2020’s brand of degradation- 

Hyuck slots his hands behind his back, letting out a deep breath.

“Good boy,” you coo, pushing your panties to the side so you can touch your pussy directly. Teasing him like this has already made you extremely wet, and it’s easy for you to glide your digits up and down your soaked slit, drawing soft circles on your clit.

“Can you see from there, ghost boy?” you sigh, spreading your legs even wider.

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“I don’t like Mistress or Ma’am,” you admit.

“I’m sorry.”

If you got him to call you Goddess you’d risk hubris, so instead, you tell him, “Call me princess.”

You’d considered ‘Angel’ as a term of endearment, but with the deities you pay tribute to, even that had felt like a step too far. No, Princess works- You feel like a royal girlie who’s having fun with a servant boy, abusing the power you hold over him, for mutual benefit. 

“Okay, princess,” Hyuck breathes, and you can tell from his reaction that he enjoys the feeling of the word on his tongue. 

You like the sound of it coming from him too, and you throw your head back, getting more comfortable against the pillows. You tease one of your fingers into your wet hole, stroking your sensitive inner walls. 

Hyuck lets out a shaky gasp, and you grin to yourself, keeping your eyes closed so you can enjoy the sensation. Although that doesn’t stop you from saying in a sing-song voice, “You better not be touching yourself, ghost boy.”

“I’m not, princess, I promise.” 

“Good ghostie,” you coo slipping another finger into your pussy. You open your eyes to look at him. His gaze is fixed on your core, and he’s got his bottom lip pinned between his teeth. “Is it a nice view?”

“The best view in the whole world,” Hyuck breathes, almost panting.

“Should I make myself cum so you can finally touch me?” 

“Fuck, yes please, fuck, yes-” Hyuck’s eyes meet yours, and you see the desperation, it’s practically throbbing off of him in waves. “Please, princess, I wanna watch you cum.”

“You’re being such a good ghostie for me,” you muse, pulling your fingers from your core and holding them out for him, “Come here, have a taste.”

Hyuck falls onto his knees on the foot of your mattress, grabbing your hand with both of his and drawing your digits to his mouth. He sucks on them, his eyes fixed on yours as his tongue licks and strokes your skin, cleaning up every drop of your juices.

“Now back to your spot,” you prompt, pulling your hand away. “The moment I cum, you can join.”

You watch him swallow thickly, and while he doesn’t talk back, Hyuck is clearly reluctant to get back to his feet, standing at the edge of the bed and watching you.

His hands go behind his back, and when he’s in proper form, you slowly slip your panties down your legs. Then, you throw them directly at him. They land on his shoulder, and Hyuck turns to look at them, breathing deeply.

He’s rock hard in his pants now, and the sight turns you on as you bring both hands to your core. You begin to finger yourself while you rub tight circles on your clit, your toes curling at the sensation. 

“Hyuck,” you whimper, arching your back, building the pressure deep in the pit of your abdomen. 

“Princess-” he echoes, sounding even more desperate than you are.

You open your eyes, staring directly at Hyuck as you work yourself closer and closer-

“I’m gonna cum,” you tell him. “Fuck, I’m almost there, almost there, baby-”

Hyuck releases a moan at the new pet name, and you can see him twitching. He’s doing his best to follow your instruction about not moving until you’ve cum, but you can see it’s getting harder and harder-

You let out a gasp, your orgasm slamming into you, and that’s when Hyuck finally pounces.

He wastes no time jumping onto the bed, burying his face between your legs while his hands grab at the flesh of your thighs, fingers digging into your skin. His mouth devours your core as your orgasm surges through you, and each lick and suck has you crying out, muscles tensing as Hyuck intensifies your high.

Your fingers thread in his hair, and he groans when you tug on him, unrelenting in his task of eating you through your orgasm. The ghost is eating you like a man who’s been starved of pussy for twenty years, and you suppose that’s accurate, so can you really hold the whole pantie-sniffing thing against him?

You’re not sure how he does it, but one orgasm that you’d given yourself quickly becomes a second orgasm that Hyuck has coaxed out of you by sucking on your clit, and you gasp loudly as it slams into you, riding the tail end of the first high. 

“Fuck, I’m cumming-” you whimper, thighs tensing around Hyuck’s head-

He simply pushes them apart, tongue diving into your hole to stroke your walls as they spasm around him. Hyuck groans, and the feeling of the vibration on your clit has you whimpering even louder, your grip tightening in his hair. 

“Hyuck-” you moan, pushing at his head, “I’m done, that was two-”

“I want three,” he tells you, taking his mouth from your pussy so he can suck marks along your inner thighs. “Can I have three? I’ve been a good ghostie for you.”

“You can have three when you bury your cock inside of me,” you tell him with a laugh, your body still buzzing in the after-effects of two orgasms that had happened in quick succession.

“I want three now, and four when I’m fucking you stupid, princess.” 

Well, this is a switch-up. 

He’d been so subby before, but one taste of your pussy has him trying to be more dominant? Fuck it, you don’t even mind, the words that have just come out of his mouth are too hot to even handle, so you let out a small, whimpered, “Okay.” 

“Okay, what?” he prompts, teeth grazing your inner thigh.

“Make me cum one more time with your mouth before you fuck me.” 

Hyuck doesn’t waste any time swiping his tongue along your slit again. He flicks at your clit and your thighs shake around his head, your nails dragging softly against his scalp. 

Your hips begin to wiggle, and Hyuck looks up at you, holding out his tongue and staying still so you can grind against him. You toss your head back, closing your eyes as you ride his tongue, using him for your own pleasure.

Hyuck groans, tilting forward just enough for his nose to bump your clit, and your muscles clench at the stimulus. You’re sensitive after two orgasms, but fuck, Hyuck feels so good.

“I just want you to fuck me,” you confess, relaxing back against the bed again while Hyuck takes the cue to begin to lick your pussy. “Make me cum so you can fuck me.”

Hyuck practically growls in response, his lips suctioning around your clit. Your legs quiver around his head, thighs squishing in on him- this time, instead of pushing you away and spreading you open, Hyuck allows you to practically crush his skull, his fingers digging into your soft flesh.

“Hyuck-” you whimper, body beginning to shake as he focuses all his attention on your clit.

There’s no pushing the ghost away, no crushing his head with your thighs- he’s locked in on his target, and all you can do is take what he’s giving you. 

Your moans fill the space, your back arching as he sucks your clit closer and closer to another high-

Then, out of the blue, one of his hands snakes up to your throat. Hyuck adjusts so he can squeeze your neck, his tongue flicking at your clit, his breath hot against your skin-

The pressure on your throat makes your entire body freeze for a moment, mind short-circuiting- and when you’re able to think again, all you can think about is the pulsing between your thighs as your orgasm crashes into you like a bullet train.

You whimper, the sound obstructed in part by the hand still gripping your throat. Your own hands fly to Hyuck’s wrist, encouraging him to apply even more pressure as you begin to thrash under his touch. Your hips are bucking toward his face, your pussy throbbing like it’s never throbbed before- and there’s not even anything filling you.

Your clit feels amazing, but your poor inner walls have been neglected, you’re aching for something to throb around, aching for an intrusion in your sinfully wet hole-

“Hyuck, please,” you gasp, letting out a shuddery breath when he pulls his mouth from your core, looking up at you. “I need-”

He squeezes your throat tighter, cutting off your words. Then he begins to kiss up your body, finally making it to your lips. He stops just a millimeter away, looking down at you as he releases your neck. It’s as if - even after all of this - he’s asking for permission.

You throw your arms around the back of his throat, tugging him the final distance to your mouth. His tongue clashes against your own, and you can taste your pussy there. Your core throbs, and Hyuck begins to grind down against you, rolling his hips expertly.

“Fuck,” you groan, breaking the kiss so you can shove your hands between your bodies, pushing at his pants. 

Hyuck, meanwhile, begins to mark up your neck in love bites, his fingers slipping under your back so he can unclasp your bra and tear it off.

You’re naked for him now, and you make quick work of his pants, briefs, and shirt. You’re caught in a whirlwind of need, kisses, and touches. Finally, he’s slotting himself between your thighs again. This time, when he grinds against you, his bare cock glides past your clit, and your legs shake, your fingers clawing at him.

“Do it,” you encourage him, gasping as he kisses your throat. One of your hands snakes into his hair, massaging his scalp. “Fuck me.” 

Hyuck reaches between your bodies, grabbing the base of his cock. He begins to tease his head along your pussy lips and you both groan at the feeling. “Princess-” he moans.

“It’s okay,” you assure him. “I’m ready, I can take it. You’ve been such a good ghostie being patient for me and making me cum- it’s your turn. Use me, baby, fill me up.” 

He’s panting against your neck, and he pulls back to look down at you. You can tell there’s hesitancy, but a need too, and when you grab the nape of his neck to draw his lips to yours, you feel his body immediately relax.

He presses the tip of his cock to your tight hole, and as he kisses you, he begins to push into your pussy.

You groan at the feeling of him. For an average-sized man, his cock is no laughing matter. He’s thick, stretching out your inner walls with each inch that sinks into you. 

Your thighs quake around his hips, and Hyuck licks at your tongue, moaning and kissing you until his front is flush with your own.

Only then does he break the kiss, rubbing his forehead against yours. “Princess-”

“I know, baby, it feels good for me too,” you assure him.

He grabs at the pillow next to your head, squeezing it roughly while letting out a shuddery breath.

Your pussy is still throbbing, trying to accommodate his large size, and when he buries his face against your throat, beginning to thrust, your entire body lights up with pleasurable energy.

“Fuck,” you groan, closing your eyes and stroking his shoulders, “Just like that.”

He picks up his pace, fucking you harder and harder until your bed begins to rock against the wall with each rough motion from his hips. 

Hyuck continues his barrage on your throat, licking your sweet spot while you mewl into his ear, holding him tight. One of his hands sneaks up between your bodies, grabbing at your breast. He pinches your nipple between his fingers, rolling it and panting against your skin.

“Hyuck-” you whimper, pussy throbbing around him, earning a deep groan.

“I don’t know if I can hold it,” he admits, pulling away to look down at you with beautiful chocolate eyes.

“Then don’t hold it,” you tell him. “Just don’t assume we’re done when you’re done.”

His gaze darkens, his plump lips parting in a silent question. Instead of saying anything else, you draw him in for a kiss, wrapping your legs tight around his hips. 

The hand that had been on your breast finds your free hand, fingers lacing as he presses you down into the mattress, fucking you even harder.

Each thrust has him hitting perfect spots, and the way he’s rolling your hips adds stimulus to your clit, which throbs with sensitivity.

The throaty moans escaping him are driving you mental, and the way his tongue strokes your own has you dizzy with lust.

Your other hand tangles in his pretty hair, tugging gently, dragging his mouth away from yours so you can begin to speckle his throat with kisses.

Hyuck lets out an absolutely sinful moan, and you realize he’s very sensitive in this area. It makes you want to make it even more, so you begin to suck small purple marks into his flesh while he shakes above you, bicep muscles flinching with effort.

“Keep fucking me,” you remind him. “Want you to cum.” 

Hyuck squeezes your hand, his pace picking up again.

“That’s it, ghost boy,” you coo, licking his throat. “Cum for your princess.”

He lets out a strangled gasp, thrusts faltering. A moment later you can feel his cum filling you up, and it makes you moan, your core throbbing with desperation. You need one more high, and you’re sure he’ll help you get it.

Hyuck rides out his orgasm, and then he collapses on top of you, his lips seeking out your own.

You allow him to kiss you for a while, cock still buried deep inside of you. Then, you begin to stroke his body again, making him shiver.

“Can you roll onto your back for me, ghost boy?” you prompt, looking up into his eyes.

Hyuck is quick to comply, and you can tell from the way his lips part, that he’s not expecting you to mount him as soon as he’s on his back. You put his cock back inside of you before any cum can drip out, and you sit there, staring down at him with your hands on his chest.

“Your recharge time is pretty good, isn’t it, ghost boy?” you tease, gently rolling your hips while he whines, grabbing your thighs from the sensitivity. “I bet I could just kiss you for a few minutes, and you’d be rock hard again in no time.”

“Princess-”

“You want to please me, don’t you, baby?” You trail a finger down his chest, teasing your nails across his abdomen and watching the muscles jump there under your touch.

“Yes,” he admits. 

“And I think we both deserve to cum one more time, don’t you?”

He nods again. 

You lean over him, pretending you’re about to kiss him, as his eyes flutter shut, lips parting in anticipation- you push his face to the side, attacking his neck instead.

“Fuck,” Hyuck groans, grabbing at your hips, squeezing you.

“Such a sensitive neck,” you muse, lips moving to his ear where you lick the shell, enjoying the way he shudders. “I wonder if I just…” you slip one hand up his chest, and Hyuck immediately arches his head, giving you full access to wrap your fingers around his throat. “That’s what I thought.”

Hyuck whimpers below you, hips pushing up, looking for friction-

“Did that make you hard, ghostie?” you laugh, sitting up and looking down at him. “Just a little choking and you’re already good to go again?”

This poor man has been repressed- you’re happy you’re the one who gets to free him. 

You begin to slowly move your hips, and Hyuck lets out a desperate moan, arching his head back even more. You tighten your grip on his throat and he responds by digging his fingers into your hips, urging you to ride him faster.

He looks so good like this.

Then, one of his hands moves, his thumb finding your clit. Your core throbs around him and you both moan loudly. Hyuck opens his eyes, looking up at you. 

“You’re being so good for me,” you tell him, rutting faster on his cock. “Make your princess cum.”

He rubs your clit harder, beginning to buck up to meet you while you ride him. 

Then, Hyuck pushes your hand from his neck, sitting up so he can latch his mouth onto your breast. He holds you close, wrapping his arms around your lower back and moving you on his cock. His teeth skim your nipple and you cry out, threading your hands in his hair and moaning in his ear.

He groans in response. This new angle has your clit rubbing against him, and you ride yourself to an intense completion, your head thrown back when your orgasm rushes over you.

As you cum, Hyuck flips you onto your back, taking over and thrusting into you with newfound energy. Your pussy throbs around him as he fucks you stupid, and when he buries his face against your throat, marking your skin, he cums too.

You can feel him shoot a second load deep inside of you, coating your walls to the point of nearly being too full, but part of you kind of loves it.

You hold him as he fucks you through your highs, listening to his panting and whining.

Finally, he stops, all but collapsing on top of you, lips feverish against your skin.

You pet his hair, trying to catch your breath. 

You’re cognizant of the fact that you don’t have all the time in the world for aftercare, and you’d rather talk with Hyuck now than address a shadow.

“Ghostie?” you whisper.

He releases a grunt. 

“We don’t have much time left,” you say sadly.

He pulls away from your throat, looking down at you. 

“Listen,” you cup his face, “being interested in a ghost the way I’m interested in you has never been something I saw for myself in this life,” you admit. “But, I am interested in you. I only have so many pictures of you that I can use to make you physical like this, but I’m going to find something to make this longer lasting, I promise. Until I do… I’m okay with you sniffing my panties, or watching me masturbate, or anything you want-”

Hyuck cracks a smile at your words, and you find yourself giggling as well.

“So you’re not going to exorcize me?” he jokes.

“Never ever,” you promise.

“You’re going to find a way for us to be together,” the ghost says softly.

“If anyone could find a way, it’s a witch like me,” you assure him, leaning up to press your lips against his.

He kisses you gently, and you get lost in it.

You’re not sure how long you stay lip-locked, but after a while, the feeling of his lips disappears. You open your eyes to find yourself alone, well- you can still see a shadow of him, but his warmth is gone, and the sensation of his kisses too.

You sigh. “I’ll find a way, ghostie,” you promise.

You’d like to think he responded, maybe with a word of encouragement, but there’s no way to know for sure.

Rolling onto your side, you imagine him behind you, close but unable to physically touch.

Leave to a witch to fall in love with a ghost.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! writing this style of Hyuck was way too satisfying

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview.  Hyuck kisses you, grabbing your face as he does so. You can taste something unsaid on his tongue, but you do your best to ignore it as he pulls you from the sink, turning you around until your bum hits the island table. He lifts you up, setting you onto the old wood, then, he sinks to his knees. You’re wearing a dress, Hyuck loves dresses, they make it easy for him to have access to your pussy. He’s downright kitty obsessed these days, lifting up your skirt just enough to get under it. His lips make contact with your panty clad core and you let out a sigh of relief, leaning back on your palms and letting your head fall backward.

cw/ tw. Dominant leaning switchy Hyuck, unprotected ghost sex, kitchen sex, sex on a table, pussy eating, fingering, pussy obsessed Hyuck, slight ghost angst, hair pulling, choking, praise, dirty talk, kitchen quickie, multiple reader orgasms, mentions of dark magic/bones, panties as a gag, finger sucking, sex while wearing a dress,  etc…   I petnames. (hers) princess (his)  baby

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.2k I teaser wc. 250

🌙 staring. Hyuck x afab!reader

bonus

The answer to your ghost conjuration problem had been shockingly simple. If burning a picture could draw Hyuck to your existence for as long as it was alight, you realized that burning one of his bones would last substantially longer.

Most crematoriums burn bones at 1000 degrees Celsius for two or three hours. At a much lower temperature, using a Bunsen burner set to 300 degrees, you could burn one small fragment for a lot longer. 

The worst part was going to the graveyard across town, with no one but Pluto as company, under the light of the moon in the dead of night to exhume Hyuck’s body. It’s been so long since his death that you weren’t worried about finding anything other than bones in the casket, and with a spell, you didn’t even have to put in the effort to dig- but something about uncovering Hyuck’s supposed ‘final resting place’ just hadn’t sat right with you.

You’d been aware, as you had driven home with a bag full of bones, that you were teetering on the side of a darker shade of magic. But for love, you decided not to care.

The first night you’d lit up a small bone, Hyuck had appeared right behind you, and the two of you had fucked on the floor right next to the altar. 

It’s been three or four months since you began to burn Hyuck’s bones, and your lust for each other hasn’t diminished.

He’s insatiable, and you are too.

☀️to read the full 2.2k bonus, subscribe to my Patreon - then - click here

👹 or check out what else is on my patreon here

🔮if nothing strikes your fancy, check out my m.list

general taglist

@gotshinct - @runahways - @milkteade - @mocha000

@anothershorthuman - @notbeforelong - @darthlunaa

@meowniee - @just-here-to-read-01​ - @shiningnono - @lovelyhan

@grilledbananas - @quennlenn - @zezedoesshit

@unlikelysublimekryptonite - @wonwoothinker

nct taglist

@peachyjaemin - @sehunniepot - @shailasthings

thank you to those who interacted with the teaser 19

@kyungsooislifeu - @thebubsz - @horanghater

@nominsgirl - @bobathi - @havencove - @multislut

@ghostskilledmyaddiction21 - @markgeollie - @axo-l0tl

@pandabur666 - @harrisonharrison - @beaconsforeight

@darlingnjeong - @positionslab - @xenkimmie

@froggyforyoongi - @babbymochiiii - @bluempire425-blog

@canknot - @meowniee - @sundhaelatte - @brightestmark

@guesswhatimthinking - @sammylvr - @mingcouper

@hcluvie - @jenodreamer - @czennilove - @haechansblkgf

[nebulaafterdark]

An Aegon II suggestion because I've seen you're open to them, if you don't mind. ❤️

Perhaps you could do a part 2 of the Dracarys series? I genuinely love that specific kind of trope especially with Aegon because I rarely see it with him and because the specific way in which you wrote it has something addictive to it 😭. You decide if there's smut or not or how Velaryon!(Strong)reader fares.

Thanks if you'll read it.❤️

This is super short, but thank you so much for the ask! There’s just something about this Aegon. I hope you enjoy! 🩷

Dracarys (Part 2)

Aegon ii x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

18+ ONLY MDNI

Targcest, major character death, angst, no smut but it’s dark.

Part 1

“What did you feel before you felt nothing?” Aegon wonders, stroking a possessive hand over her dark locks.

“Fear, grief.”

“What did you feel for me?” He wonders.

“I suppose, for a moment, I was happy to see you.” She admits, because it does not matter anymore.

“And what do you feel for me now?”

If she tells him the truth of it, he may yet kill her. But is this truly living? “I hate you. I loathe you. I despise you.” How many ways can she say it? “I am sick at the sight of you.”

Aegon cackles, like a mad man, “why then, have you not killed me in my sleep? Take the crown, take it all?”

“Who says I haven’t tried?” She breathes, feeling his arms tighten around her. “Or that I won’t.”

“You are a cunning creature. An enchantress. A spider, created to trap me in your web.” He moves his lips to her ear, “if you wanted to kill me, you would have done it by now.”

Tears prickle at the backs of her eyes.

“Same as I cannot bring myself to harm you.” Aegon whispers, “I think about it.”

Y/N wills herself to remain still as his hungry eyes rake over the whole of her.

“Then somehow I never do.”

“Why do you think that is?” Y/N searches his eyes.

“Something in you is tethered to something in me. Tied together, in love and in hate. I have no way of knowing what my life will become if I cut this cord between us.” Aegon admits. “I have no desire to know.”

“I do not want to be tied together.”

“Yet here you are,” Aegon muses, “though you are not held in chains.”

“Because you are holding the only remaining member of my family under lock and key.” Y/N reminds him.

“Take your brother and go.”

“Surely another one of your traps.”

“Not a trap, but an offer. One that will not be made again.”

“Why?” Y/N demands, “why after all this would you let me leave?”

“Because you won’t. Even if you did, you would return. You have nothing left, save for me. I killed your mother, after our families killed each other and my sister killed herself; over a chair.” Aegon sneers.

Y/N’s hands ball into fists, “I hate you.”

“I know, my dearest love.” Aegon taunts, “just as our mothers before us, like Aemond and Lucerys. Even Jacaerys and sweet Helaena could not escape it. You and I were fated to dance.”

Part 3

[sepherinaspoppies]

Only If For A Night (ii/?)

pairing: Dark! Book Aemond Targaryen x Modern! Reader

summary: In Dia De Los Muertos (Day of the Dead), she gets forcefully transported to Westeros and meets her favorite book character, Aemond 'One Eye'. She asks and begs for his help to send her back home after realizing this was a world she did not want to live in. Unknowingly to her, her favorite fictional man had already grown too attached to fully let her go.

warnings for this part: physical assault, derogatory behavior, mentions of rape, blood, violence, Aemond sorta unhinged in protection mode lol.

wc: 3,271

series masterlist

my masterlist

pt i

notes: lol so I've decided to make multiple chapters of this series I hope that's okay :)

Chapter 2: Bring Me To Life

When she was a little over the age of six, she remembers when her mama happened to be two hours late to pick her up from elementary school. She stood outside the school gates with her Hello Kitty backpack and her Bratz Dolls lunchbox in hand, waiting until she was the only kid left. 

When she was close to giving up and deciding to walk the fifteen minute walk home, a tall dark haired woman with sunglasses stood in front of her offering her a ride home. She was a bit hesitant at first, the woman was a complete stranger, yet the way she was dressed, elegant with an expensive buttoned green trench coat and a Chanel bag, made her wonder what harm could be done in taking up the kind offer. The woman looked rich enough to adopt a kid of her own and besides she was a woman, just like her mama. 

The woman must have seen the uncertain look in her face, resulting in her pulling out a Paleta Payaso out of her bag and saying she had more in her car if she simply followed. She remembers smiling and nodding, taking the woman’s hand while she unwrapped her favorite candy. 

Mere seconds before getting into the car, she heard her mama call out to her and before she had time to explain, the woman in the green trench coat was gone into thin air. The only trace of her was the chocolate marshmallow candy in her hand…

Don’t take candy from strangers! Her mama warned. Except she did. 

That occurrence that had been stored in her memory was what awoke her. There was a burn in her eyes as the sun’s rays hit directly at them from the window, blinding her vision. She wondered if her abuela intentionally opened up the blinds to get her ready for their usual mile walk around the plaza. 

Except, she received no response after the three times she had called her out. 

Odd. 

She gradually sat upright, wincing at the pain radiating throughout her back. Gods, how long did I sleep for? She mused before releasing a long yawn, stretching out the ache within her muscles. 

Immediately, she feels her stomach drop down to her feet as she takes in her surroundings. All at once she starts to recollect everything that Alyssandra did and said. 

The tea. The blood. The marigolds. The sapphire…

She ponders if all had been some sick cruel joke or a scam to steal some pesos out of her mercado bag. Unfortunately, she had none. Maybe ten pesos which basically converted into sixty cents. Not much could be bought from that. 

“Alyssandra?” She calls out, though it’s proven to be useless. It appeared that the cottage had no other occupants but herself. A series of spewed curses leaves her lips as she but all feels a strain in her back and neck. The saying of laying in a bed of rock, couldn’t be any more truer. 

After a few stretches and rubs to her neck, she begins her search for her belongings: her dress, her mercado bags, and her Fire and Blood book. But to her bewilderment, none of her stuff laid previously on where she saw them last. 

Everything of hers was gone. Or better yet, stolen by that bruja. Including her wallet, her groceries, her shoes, and even her bra and underwear. 

Great. Shoeless and commando it is. 

Without turning back, she exits the rustic cottage and tries to figure out some kind of explanation that didn’t sound implausible in the ears of her abuela. 

Adivina qué abuela, en lugar de tomar un uber fui estúpidamente a la casa de un extraño porque estaba lloviendo. Y una bruja me robó mis cosas y me drogó. Por eso estoy vestida así, sin tus compras y sin zapatos. (Guess what grandma, instead of taking an uber I stupidly went to a stranger 's house since it was raining. And a witchy woman stole my stuff and drugged me. So that's why i'm dressed like this, without your groceries, and without shoes)

The word ‘tonta’ lingered in her head with the same scolding tone as her abuela’s. Yea she was tonta alright. 

She figured with Alyssandra gone and the fact that she thieved her belongings, she sure would not miss a bundle of cempasuchiles from her garden. They were fresh and bright enough for the ofrenda and it was at least something she could bring back after being robbed. 

She uses the small mental notes as a guide to lure her back to the pueblo and halts halfway into the forest depicting two vital things into her surroundings. One, it was daytime without the residual wet smell one would distinguish after it rained. Two, the grass beneath her feet was free from moisture as if it had not rained and stormed one bit. 

Strange.

Instead, she smelled something faint amidst smoke and ash and something else she couldn’t quite identify. She shrugs, maybe someone left out the carne asada on the grill for far too long. (roasted meat)

The bundle of flowers in her hands nearly drops once she fully exits the forest, she expects to see the street that she had taken with Alyssandra but to her puzzlement she is met with an open field of uncut grass and hills that she had never seen before. 

As far as she knew the pueblo only had mountains. For a moment she thinks she took a wrong turn out, but she was certain this was the same very path that she followed Alyssandra to. However, curiosity turns into panic, when she spots a large gothic looking castle in the distance that resembles where a particular vampire, Dracula, lived in. 

Except this castle appeared to be in ruins or decaying and something told her that not only might have the Dracula resided in there but many ghosts as well. 

Where the fuck am I? 

It’s not long until she hears loud hoofs in the nearby distance, galloping closer and closer. She hides between a large tree and some bushes, covering up her mouth to restrain her heavy breathing and panting. 

She peeks through her shoulder, spotting three men high on their horses wearing some sort of armor medieval knights would wear. In the middle of their chests, a green surcoat was worn over their armor, a golden three headed dragon engraved in the center. 

A sigil. 

The marking was vaguely familiar from somewhere. Some place. Something. 

Through the corner of her eye, she sees all three men coming to a sudden halt. Not too far from where she hides, a middle aged man saunters with his head hung low examining thoroughly at the ground. He hums as his eyes find hers over the end of the trail of faint footsteps, giving her a cruel ‘I’ve got you’ tight lipped smile. 

Fuck. 

“Look at what we have here!” She gasps, the man grips her forearm impossibly tight, forcing her out of hiding into the views of the others. “We found ourselves a whore!” He whistles as the others laugh. “She’d be good use to us back at camp. Take her with,” Another man snickers. 

Rage seethes right through her, “No, let me go. I’m not a whore!” She sneers, pushing his hands away from her body as the man snarls and takes a hold of the roots of her hair but she is quick to act as she curls her hand into a fist socking him straight in the side of his nose. 

In that moment, she was thankful for learning such a bold move she mimicked from a Lucha Libre fight her cousins invited her to. (professional wrestling)

The man lets out a painful groan, holding a very bloody nose between his fingers, anger written all over his face. “You fucking bitch,” He hissed, using the back of his hand to slap her so brutally that it sends her directly to the dirt. 

A metallic taste swims around her mouth, no doubt her own blood and looking at the few drops on the grass all but confirms it. She hears the other men laughing and she feels too hazy and shocked by it all to continue to fight. 

“R’ ye done?” The man asks. She knows he is talking to her, and she looks up at him with furry eyes as she spits her blood against the top of his shoes as an answer. 

All four of them rode back in silence. They cut through most of the trees with ease, passing by other knights with the same sigil printed on their chest, circling around a large cliff that hoisted up the ruined castle. Those who were not guarding, hauled lines of other contrarily dressed knights over wagons. Most likely prisoners, she assumed. 

Gerald, whom she came to know as the knight who struck her, kept her securely bound with a knife to her throat as a warning to not try and fight him. She knew it was a foolish move to do so. But at some point, she deliberately pushed herself forward against the knife hoping this all had been some weird dream or hallucination that she could wake from.

But to her frustration, it surely was not.

Every single thing about this seemed odd… How did Alyssandra expect her to find a sapphire in this place? And where exactly had Alyssandra send her to? 

So far, she’d been led astray, drugged, displaced (to put it lightly), insulted and assaulted. And somehow, she knew her journey had only just begun. 

The smell of smoke and ash became more amplified as they barreled further up the cliff. She but all felt like a tiny ant amongst the rubble once the four of them arrived inside the castle’s gates. 

There were five towers in total, she counted, all of them tall but not equally the same height. Erosion was a plausible effect of why the castle was in ruins. However, as she looked closely it was quite clear that it was not caused by natural agents of wind or water but that of fire. 

But what kind of fire melts stone? 

They stopped near the stables, where more men similar to them sat on wooden benches either dining or sharpening their tools. Tents were set up near the most bizarre looking tree she had ever seen. It had eyes with what appeared to be blood pouring out them, leaves that looked like hands waving to her as the branches pendulated.  

“Move,” The guard said after he carried her off the mount. She glanced at her possible options of routes for escape. Not many were good enough for a safe return back to the cottage or better yet the woods. It would be a stupid move to run the way they came, guards guarded the main gates and most of the town.

Her best bet was going through the small hallway opening that led inside the castle itself. Perhaps through there, there might be some kind of exit that was unguarded. 

No.

“Did ye not hear me, whore? Move!” 

She gritted her teeth in fury as Gerald pushed her in the path of the tents. 

All color and emotion drained from her face when she heard it. Screams and cries and small pleadings of ‘no’. Groans, growls, and the slaps of skin echoed right back. 

At that very moment, it hit her that she was overhearing the acts of rape. 

She felt her heart drop down to her stomach. Anger, horror, icy and deep sluiced through her for what these evil and vile men were doing. As she glanced up, tall flagstaffs waving tripartite pale, blue, red, and green on white sigil dresses up in the sky. 

Their clothing…

She wanted so much to hurt them as they did to the women. Perhaps even more. Not a single person attempted to put an end to this and she had a feeling that they wouldn’t either. What kind of place did Alyssandra send her? And why did she choose this one? 

Why Alyssandra?

She swallowed that useless and weak feeling that rested in her throat. If she couldn’t save them, she could have a chance in saving herself. 

She glanced between the small opening and the knights, deciding. If her calculations were correct, she had a sixty percent chance of outrunning them and potentially hiding inside the melted castle. Luckily she was small enough to fit into tiny surfaces. 

The guard shrieked as she stomped heavily on his foot and struck him right in the place she hit him from before. And with the adrenaline coursing through her veins, she broke out in a run before anyone had a chance to seize her. 

By how fast she was running, one would’ve thought she was in the olympics. If her high school gym teacher could see her now. Perhaps she could’ve finally given her an A. 

She saw one corridor unguarded and open and without hesitation, she took it. She glanced behind her, noticing a few men catching up to her and while her feet started to ache she ignored it and continued to run faster. 

Carelessly and unknowingly, she felt the front part of her body collide against cold hard metal, causing whatever she clashed in to move. 

It was then when she saw the most beautiful man she had ever seen. 

Stop. Go. Now. 

Rage sketched in his features at first. Then his eye locked into hers and that rage quickly went away into something she couldn’t quite describe.

Shock? Awe? As if he finally found what he was in search of.  

“It’s you,” He said, his lone violet eye wide and wild as he stumbled backwards, a hand clutching at his chest. 

Me?

She drunk in the rest of his appearance. He was exceptionally tall, the kind of tall where she could already feel a strain in her neck from looking up.

He appeared to be not that much older than her, perhaps around mid twenties the most. His hair, curated into a half up-half down hairstyle, was an angelic type of silver that reached just about the middle of his chest. It looked silky smooth and soft and she fought the urge to run her fingers through it.

A scar covers and paints the left side of his face underneath a leather eyepatch that suits him so well. Something about him feels eerily familiar. She had seen him before but to put a name on him was difficult.  

This definitely was going to bother her.

She watched as he brought a hand to the left side of his chest, about to speak again when the guard from before came, gripping harshly at her forearm. “My Prince, I offer my sincere apologies. She outran us and–” Gerald’s anxious explanation was interrupted by the man as he held up his hand to silence him. 

Prince? 

Of course he’d be a prince. With hair that lucious and shiny and silver— Her lips parted open and her eyes widened in pure realization.

The sigil on the surcoats and on the banners. The black castle where they had taken her.​​..

Holy fucking shit! 

The one and only, Aemond ‘One Eye’ Targaryen, stood directly in front of her.  How was this possible? How could it be? He was just a character. How could he be real? 

Que mierda’s esto? (What the fuck is this?)

His expression shifted and his lone eye darkened, noticing her very sheer attire that left nothing to the imagination to what was underneath. Unfortunately to Aemond, if he could notice the outline of her breasts and hips, so could the eyes of his men. And he could not have that. No. 

Her body was only for his eye to see. No one else. 

So Aemond tore away his crimson cape from his armor, wrapping it delicately around her body, making her skin tingle with shivers. 

“Thank you,” She manages to squeeze out. The top of Aemond’s lip lifted for a millisecond until it disappeared as he took heed of remnants of dried blood in the corner of her lip.

The one eyed prince became enraged, his lips turning into a sneer as his hand gripped tightly at the hilt of his sword. Who had dared to touch what was his? Especially in such a violent way.

“Which one?” Aemond whispered, his voice rough with an edge of unruliness. All she needed was to say the name of the assaulter and he would kill him. 

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Aemond stepped impossibly closer, “Which one did this to you?” He asked again, tone harder as he gently traced his thumb to the swollen flesh of her lip. At her wince, Aemond was readying to kill the entirety of the army. 

It didn’t go by unnoticed by Aemond, the way she shifted uncomfortably against the hands of the guard that was holding her in place.

Him. 

He wanted so much to peel every inch of the man’s skin off his body for all the people of Harrenhal to see or mayhaps sever his fingers and make him eat it. Death by his dragon, Vhagar, was too quick. Aemond knew his dragon had not eaten and his corpse could be something of a light snack. But it all was too easy. He yearned for this man to die a painful death. Even if it meant one less guard for his brother’s army. Aemond abhorred any kind of violence directed towards women. Especially to his one and only. 

“You,” Aemond pointed towards the guard with his finger. “Stand there” Aemond gestured towards the pile of decaying bodies of House Strong. She trembled in horror, her face going pale like the color of her chemise as she saw Aemond swiftly strike the guard right across his face in the same location he had slapped her. 

She heard the man cry his apologies but Aemond was not having any of it. “It’s not me who you should be apologizing to. It’s her,” He pointed his sword towards her. The guard redirected his empty  apologies to her but she stood frightened to say anything. 

“Now which hand was it? The left or the right?” The man didn’t answer for he did not have time to. Aemond’s patience had always been thin, especially now as his one and only was here. 

If she hadn’t thrown up before she did now as all hell broke loose. Two detached arms were added into the pile followed by high pitched screams of the now armless guard crying for mercy from the one eyed prince. 

She should have run from such violence. Gone back to the little cottage from where she came from now that she had the chance to escape. However she was worried what the repercussions might be especially if what she read was true about the one eyed prince being ruthless and merciless. 

What would he do to her? 

Aemond had turned to face his one and only, wanting nothing more to take her up the castle and undress her and make her his now that he found her. To his dismay, he would not do such a thing until they were bound in marriage to one another. And when that day came he would be at her disposal worshiping every inch of her skin like the very image of a Queen she is. 

“Never again,” He whispered before he turned. The guard’s head was separated from his body in the blink of an eye.  

general taglist: @dreaming-for-an-escape @marvelescvpe @omgisrdj @ramsip @silentf @thenightmistress @dixie-elocin @namelesslosers @gigi-panecillo @laureeedn @watercolorskyy @seabasscevans @kittendoll05 @fullmoonworshipper @bunbunbl0gs @summerposie @dusicapopilic @tulips2715 @kckt88 @chaoticwinnercupcake @folksriddle @ficsandsin @nyx-daughterofchaos98 @qweencrimson @slytherized @qyburnsghost @tofujiji @saturnssrings @janeety @thought--bubble @theunburt @mandiiblanche @iamkookiesforyou @jeben196 @just-a-harmless-patato @moneypriestess @ladymoon666 @angelinap09 @blackswxnn @urmomsgirlfriend1

if you'd like to be in my general taglist click here

series taglist: @castellomargot @toodlesxcuddles @itsabby15 @diannnnsss @fan-goddess @zenka69 @a-beaverhausen @gabee-arts @bluebirdbts @gettheetoanunneryimmediatly @absurduty @delulumhaggy @liannafae @ilikechocolatemilkh @bellaisasleep @ammo23 @alphard-hydraes-blog @moose-squirrel-asstiel @tssf-imagines @possiblyafangirl @marthawrites @lokiofasgard12 @devils-blackrose

if you'd like to be tagged in only this series comment here!

[makeyoumine69]

Call Me Babydoll

— PAIRING: DBF!Patrick Bateman x Innocent!Fem!Reader

— SUMMARY: After eyeing Patrick Bateman — your dad's best friend — for so long, you finally have the opportunity to get him in your bed. But what are you going to do when you realize that Mr. Bateman is not as pure intentioned and chivalrous as you first thought?

— CONTAINS: Smut, Dom!Patrick, non-con that transforms into dub-con, light degradation (reader is called names), use of pet names (babydoll, little girl etc), Patrick is a fucking creep and goes down on her while her father is still inside the house, corruption kink, Daddy kink, oral (f receiving), nipple tugging/sucking/biting.

— WORDS: 2k

— SONG REC: Babydoll X The perfect girl (slowed & reverb)

— A/N: Well, I've been thinking a lot about returning to this concept, and the time has finally come. So, for now, I intend to make this a multi-chapters series, and I hope to bring all my ideas to life! Before you read this, I highly recommend you to read the intro (link below), please enjoy!

— LINKS: [INTRO]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]; [MASTERLIST]; [buy me a coffee]💓

Your heart was quivering in your chest like a caged bird, considering you had decided to take Bateman to your room while your father was still in the house doing something in his office.

As soon as you entered the room, Patrick hummed with amusement, hiding his hands in the pockets of his Armani pants. "Hmm, you like plushies, don't you?" He crooned, his voice filled with a strange excitement. 

"It's none of your business, Mr. Bateman." You tried to avoid his provocation, ignoring the way your face blazed from within.

"It's Patrick, Babydoll," the pet name sent shivers down your spine. "'C'mon, I thought you already got that."

Cautiously, almost like a cat, Patrick approached you, his expensive cologne enveloping you like an intoxicating mist, messing with your thoughts in your head. Bateman couldn't deny that the more you got embarrassed, the more it fed his ego, his need for power, his primal desire. 

"Why should I?" You rejoined him, pausing at your small bed, sensing his burning gaze between your shoulder blades.

He chuckled, so boyishly — you could even say it was quite cute, but this definition didn't really suit a man like him. 

"Oh, dear," Patrick made that cocky sound again, before closing the mere distance between the two of you. "You know, I really like this little game of... pretending to be so fucking innocent and untouchable," Bateman punctuated the last words with a low titter right into your ear — damn, he was so close to you that you could feel his hot breath fanning along your skin. "But right now it's unnecessary, since I know how much of a slut you are for me."

With that, he suddenly grabbed you from behind, yanking your hair back to bring you closer, grazing your neck with his sharp fangs, and you didn't even have a chance to make a sound as his big palm was already flat on your mouth.

"Now, now, little girl," he cooed in a husky voice, his heart about to burst through his chest from the sweet smell of your soft skin. "I'm sure you want this," his free hand ran shamelessly over your chest, teasing your already hard nipples, which only made him more cheeky as he mused. "Ah, Babydoll... you want to be corrupted, you want it so badly."

Hell no, you were not ready for this — Patrick's strong arms exploring your body once again, but this time more possessively since he was sure that no one could see you now. The way you shivered in his embrace made his cock twitch, and you could feel its hardness pressing against your lower back.

"Pat-Patrick," you managed to squeak softly before he pulled you into a hot, hungry kiss, his tongue sliding masterfully against yours, giving you no chance to resist, even though you were still trying. "My father—"

"Your dear father won't hear a thing if you keep quiet," he growled against your trembling lips, his self-control about to collapse at any moment as your taste drove him crazy. "You don't want to get caught, do you?"

A sharp, almost choked moan escaped your lips as his warm hand snaked under your top to play with your swollen peak, twisting and pinching it, your legs giving way almost instantly and if Bateman hadn't held you tight, you would have just fallen flat on the floor. Almost affectionately, Patrick made you sit on your bed, the surrounding air electric with the fluids of lust and desire between the two of you.

"Jesus Christ," he purred, kneeling down next to you, the cold metal of his gold Rolex brushing against the bare skin of your thigh, the brisk contrast in temperature forcing your toes to curl from your own arousal. "You're so sweet and cute," Patrick murmured briefly before planting a barely sensible kiss on your inner hip. "And so innocent."

"We.... We shouldn't be doing this," your breath hitched with the strange, tantalizing thrill. It was frightening, yet so fucking seductive that you were not sure whether you really wanted him to stop or never to stop. "My dad would be so mad!"

His sarcastic laugh bounced off the walls of your room. "(Y/n), you're a big girl now," he rubbed invisible circles into your tender skin, teasing you as skillfully as if he could read you like an open book. "You can make your own choices," Bateman's walnut eyes were so dark now, they glittered with undisguised lust and thirst — no one had ever looked at you like that before. "Besides, you don't have to be afraid, Babydoll. Daddy will just take a look."

"Daddy?" You asked, perplexed, but then you practically bit your tongue from the sudden burning sensation in your lower abdomen as his thumb reached your throbbing clit, rubbing it through the soft fabric of your panties. 

Your shy reaction elicited a mocking chuckle from his plump lips, now curled into a super-arrogant smirk. "Uh, you're shaking already, and I barely touched you," he parted your legs wider so that your skirt was now pulled up almost to your waist. "Fuck, I really like your skirt… did you buy it in a kid's store? It looks so girlish."

"Stop it!" You scolded and strove to close your legs, but his big palm wouldn't let you.

"Or what? You gonna cry and complain to your father?" Patrick leaned down to your mound, holding your thighs tightly, and without breaking eye contact, he swiped his tongue along your swollen lower lips, causing all your insides to cramp with unknown temptation. "I don't think he'd believe you, because you're just a little silly girl."

Enraged, you wanted to tell him to fuck off, but the tingling sensation of his hot tongue caught you off guard, your legs shaking uncontrollably as you found yourself as hypersensitive as you had ever been. Gently, Bateman stroked your inner thighs, never losing his grip as he expected you to try to fight again, but he knew how to make you surrender, because after all — sex was his territory and he was prepared to make you vulnerable and spread out for him.

"P-Patrick," you gasped as he did that motion again, this time more persistently, your lace panties already wet from both your juices and his spit. "I... I can't—"

"Can't form words?" He snickered against your flesh, sending vibrations right to your core. "That's okay, my dear," Bateman's silky voice only made the current situation worse, as you were on the verge of losing it now and then. "But believe me, this is just the beginning. And I'm curious, what would you say when I fuck you senseless, huh?" He paired his questions with a suck on your blushing bud, leaving the squelching sound behind. You had to tilt your head and grab the nearby pillow as you felt something pulsing in your womb, like a ticking bomb that was about to explode. "Fuck, if I keep going, I think I will get pussy addicted and your dad will really have to stop me."

With these words, Patrick stood up, only to throw away the pillow you were shielding yourself with, as he wanted to taste your hard nipples. Swiftly, he pulled up your top and growled as he saw your breasts popping out, his lips finding your little tip faster than you could even react. Whimpering softly, you grasped his head with how thirsty he latched onto your nipple, sucking it, trapping it between his sharp teeth, making you squeal every time he bit it, but as soon as he noticed your fingers tugging at his perfectly coiffed hair, Bateman finished his game with your tip, tugging it painfully before he mumbled: 

"Keep your hands to yourself, Babydoll," he brushed your hands away roughly, but then he gave you a warm smile. "You didn't deserve to touch Daddy's hair, not yet."

After admiring the result of his work, Patrick looked around for a mirror to check his hair and fix his red tie. He didn't even say a word to you before he left. The oppressive silence hung in the air, your lungs burning from the lack of oxygen as you found it hard to breathe. The only things you could feel were shame and disgust, but thank God that bastard decided to stop and you didn't have to tell him that you were a virgin, because you couldn't even imagine how cheeky and brazen he would get when he heard that information. Panting, you could still sense the heat of his tongue between your legs, and as soon as you tried to get up, you fell back from the strange, throbbing feeling in your core. Every single part of your body where he touched you burned as if you had been consumed by fire.

What did this devil, named Patrick Bateman, do to you? Did he just bless you with the curse of being possessed by him? What would you do now to save yourself? 

So many questions, so few answers.

It had been almost an hour since your father and Patrick had been drinking, discussing their business matters, and smoking their cigars in the living room of your not-so-fancy house. Embarrassed, you struggled to act natural whenever your dad asked you to bring him something, whether it was an ashtray or another bottle of whiskey, all the while keeping a straight face and ignoring all the playful glances Bateman was casting at you.

"You know, I'm so lucky to have a daughter like (y/n)," your dad suddenly declared as you handed him his favorite whiskey. "She's such a good girl, always so helpful and kind."

"Oh, I'm sure she is," Bateman murmured, grinning devilishly and scanning your trembling form with his dark eyes. "(Y/n), can you please do me a favor and bring me a glass of water?" He winked at you after puffing on his cigar.

Paralyzed for a second, you cleared your throat before answering. "Yes, of course, Patrick."

When you spoke his name, your father almost choked on his drink. "(Y/n)! Where are your manners? It's Mr. Bateman to you."

"Uh, sorry," you stammered as you watched Patrick's tongue swirl around the tip of his cigar in a way that only you could see it. "Just having a busy day… I'll bring you some water!"

With that, you stormed out of the living room faster than the speed of light, your heart pounding so rapidly that you could hear every beat in your ears. This man, oh fuck... this man made you feel so strange... so excited... so cursed. 

In the kitchen you grabbed the first glass you saw and with trembling hands you started to pour some water into it, splashing it around a bit as the only thing you could see behind your eyes was his fucking tongue flickering around his cigar. And worst of all, you found yourself thinking, if his mouth felt so good on you through your underwear, what would it feel like if you were naked?

A loud clatter of broken glass echoed around the house as you felt cramps in your lower abdomen, causing you to cling to the surface of the kitchen counter. Breathing heavily, you heard footsteps approaching, and you had no idea who they belonged to.

To your dad or to your 'Daddy'?

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update! Chapter 2 is here!💗

[anonymityisfunwriter]

The GED

Pairing - Grumpy!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Reader Summary - There's more than one way to be smart. Or so you've been told. But how on Earth do you go about proving that you're not (the stupid, illiterate Avenger) dumb?

Anon's 1K Celebration | The GED Series List

"Can you please just listen to me?" Sam begs you. "I'm telling you this is a bad idea."

"Or it's an amazing idea and it'll all be for the better!" you counter, plating the last of your freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.

He snatches a cookie from the plate when he thinks you're not watching, "Or you'll make an already strained relationship like ten times worse."

You glare at him, snatching the cookie back and placing it back on the plate, "Or by then end of the day we'll have a new set of friends."

Bucky groans, entering the room just in time to hear your rebuttal to Sam's negativity, "Please, not more friends. I don't like the ones I have as it is."

"See?" Sam wildly gestures to Bucky. "When do we ever agree on anything? It just proves that this is a terrible idea!"

"Hi," Bucky finally greets you, gently pecking your lips. "Missed you. Now, who exactly are we trying to make friends with?"

"The SHIELD agents downstairs," you blithely reply.

Bucky quirks an eyebrow at you, "Why? They hate us."

"That's exactly what I said!" Sam frantically exclaims.

"Have we ever asked ourselves why they hate us?" you muse. "Maybe we need to be a little nicer to them."

"Or maybe it's because they're bitter and jealous that we're better than them," Sam remarks.

"Well, it's definitely not because of Sam's incredible sense of humility," Bucky sarcastically retorts.

"Shut up," Sam snarks. "And we are better. Our stats are better, we get first pick of assignments, our mission times are like a third of theirs, Fury trusts us a hell of a lot more, and we get all the good snacks."

"And that means we can't be friends?" you rhetorically ask. "We work together all the time!"

"Listen, it's not that bad of a deal," Bucky tries to convince you. "They tolerate us. We tolerate them. It's never caused a problem on missions or anything, so who cares? Not everyone in this world is going to like you."

"Who else doesn't like me?" you frantically question, quirking an eyebrow at Bucky.

"Everyone likes you," Bucky assures you.

"Except the people downstairs," Sam teases.

"That's it!" You throw your hands up in frustration. "I'm going down there. I'm just going to bring these cookies down there and talk to them. They're just people, I'm sure they're all really nice!"

"Nice going," Bucky mutters to Sam, elbowing him in the ribs. "Come on, can't we just leave well enough alone? Isn't it enough that the people who actually know you like you? And not to mention, I like you and I don't like anybody."

"Aww.." you coo at Bucky, caressing his cheek. "Nope, too late, I'm committed."

"Why?" Sam groans. "You're never going to get everyone in the world to like you!"

"Oh, yes, I can! I've spend my entire time out in the world cultivating a personality that's impossible not to like just to satisfy my compulsive people pleasing tendencies."

Bucky's eyebrows furrow as a teasing smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, "People really don't see this side of you enough."

Sam nods, "You're a little scary when you think people don't like you."

"Scary or strangely endearing?" you wonder.

"Scary! Definitely scary!"

Bucky sighs to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose, "You're not going to leave this alone, are you?"

You beam at the two of them, scooping up the plate of cookies, "Not even a little bit."

"It's a bad idea!" Sam bellows down the corridor as you walk away from him.

You roll your eyes as you step onto the elevator and tell Friday to take you to the third floor, where the SHIELD agents typically hung out.

It wasn't a bad idea. It was a great idea. What could go wrong with trying to bring people closer together? They were just people. They were people you had to trust with your lives, why not get to know them a little bit more?

As you step off the elevator, you immediately notice that this layout is almost identical to the one upstairs, except without all the extravagant touches of Tony Stark. You amble down the hallway, looking for a sign of anyone. You figure if the layout is the same, their common room will be in the same place as the one upstairs. 

You're right, you realize when you start to hear faint voices from where you thought their common room would be. Even all the way down the hall, voices echo off the walls as you make your way closer.

You certainly don't mean to eavesdrop or listen into a conversation that you're not supposed to hear.

No, you definitely don't mean to eavesdrop on your new friends, but the open floor plan does nothing to dampen the sounds of their booming voices. 

"Yeah, I leave first thing tomorrow," an unfamiliar voice sighs.

"Who with?" someone else asks.

You don't like the way they spit Bucky's name out in disgust, "Barnes."

"Oh, he's the worst!" the same voice dramatically groans. You silently scoff at the insinuation that Bucky was the worst. "He just sits and stares like he's got nothing better to do."

"Please, I'd take him over his girlfriend any day," a different female scoffs.

You freeze at the mention of yourself. You know you should go. You shouldn't be listening to this. The things they were saying were definitely not nice, but neither was eavesdropping.

"Oh come on, she's not that bad."

You sigh in relief, feeling a little better that someone was defending you. You could go upstairs and tell Sam that he was wrong, not all the SHIELD agents were that bad.

And in the next second, you were proved very, very wrong.

"She's just such an idiot!" Your stomach twists in knots as the same SHIELD agent continues complaining about you. This is what you got for eavesdropping, you tell yourself. They're entitled to their own opinions about you. Better yet, you could change their minds and show them that there was more to you than what meets the eye. You just don't want to believe that people can be this mean, that it's so easy for them to be this casually cruel. They just didn't know you. You were sure that if they did know you all, they wouldn't be saying such awful things. "I don't know what everyone sees in her, but I swear I can see right through that whole Sunshine act."

"I dunno, she acted like that on the last mission I had with her."

"She didn't let up? Not once?"

"Nope! The whole time."

"I'd rather get caught by the bad guys then deal with her for a whole week."

"Who knows, maybe Barnes likes them dumb," the agent giggles. The words feel like a punch to the gut. You want to leave, to turn on your heels and pretend like you never heard a thing, but you're frozen in shock. "Like a Stepford Wife thing."

"If that's true, then they'll be together forever," the same agent, the one going on a mission with Bucky tomorrow, jokes. 

"What do you think they even talk about?"

"Who knows?"

"My question is what kind of adult makes it knowing as little as she does?"

"The kind with Fury in their back pocket."

"Exactly! It's the only reason she's even apart of the team. I'd bet anything she's never even picked up a book."

"Can I tell you guys something?" an agent exclaims. "Someone got into a bunch of their files upstairs. And guess what? She can't even read! She's illiterate! An illiterate Avenger!"

Your blood runs cold. Those were private. They held so much intimate information about you and your history and they were using it to make fun of you, make fun of the people that chose to love you.

You weren't sure what was worse, that they were using your past to make fun of you, or that they knew intimate details of your past, they knew the torment you were put through as a child and they still thought it was funny, they still used it as a way to belittle you. As though you had any control over it. As though it was your fault.

It's only then that you realize that tears are staining your cheeks, that you're still standing in the hallway with a plate of cookies as a peace offering for the SHIELD agents making fun of you and your friends. 

"Probably doesn't even know what a book is. Maybe her next mission should be a day of kindergarten."

It's mean. It's meaner than they have any right to be, but a lightbulb goes off in your head as you finally regain the ability to leave.

You furiously wiped away your tears, storming down the corridor and back to your side of the Compound. You leave the plate of pastries on the counter for your team mates.

And you made a decision right then and there. You wouldn't cry. You wouldn't try to convince them that you were smart. You would just do better. Be better. You were going to show them that you could be more than the illiterate Avenger. 

In that very moment, you decide your very next mission: School.

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Grumpy Sunshine Series Anon's 1K Celebration

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez@ludicbouquetfromearth@matchat3a@famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff@valoraxx@blue786sworld@buckyandgeraltsupremacy@geminigengar@ansaturn@ecolle@lexhalstead3@ybflkmj@mediocre-daydreams@shanye1112@thegirlnextdoorssister@toomanyfanficsbruh@moonlightreader649@breathtaking-cynthia@mirikusashes@beans-and-toast@niyahcoca@katiechikin@elxvrr@antiheroxsblog@infamouslyclumsy@krissydclayton93@buckysbarne@deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic@whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy

[yanderes-galore]

I was thinking, maybe romantic Yandere Dabi from MHA with these prompts: "I'd burn this world and everything in it for you.", "You're stuck with me, like it or not.", and "So what if a few people have to die? It'll only bring us closer!"? I could imagine something that starts with a hostage situation and turns into an obsession? But it's really up to you.

I can make it so he's had a thing for you beforehand then decided to use a hostage situation to act on it? Hopefully this works. I apologize for the bad plot, I found out I can't write Dabi's character right....

Yandere! Dabi Prompts 1, 57, 13

"I'd burn this world and everything in it for you."

"You're stuck with me, like it or not."

"So what if a few people have to die? It'll only bring us closer!"

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Possessive behavior, Abduction/Kidnapping, Mass murder, Violence, Arson, Sadism, Forced "relationship".

Dabi usually never bothered with taking interest in civilians.

He trusts no one already, it's not like he wants to form any connection with anyone. He hates society praising heroes for their falsehoods. The only thing he really concerns himself with is toppling such a society.

Although, It seems even he can admire pretty little things.

Dabi's feelings for you are more like... fascination. The villain views you intriguing to watch. Especially when you first met.

Dabi first met you during a hostage situation the League of Villains set up. He was meant to keep a group of civilians under control to drive out some heroes. This was when Dabi caught sight of you...

The fear on your face was such an intoxicating look.

Unfortunately, Dabi didn't get much time with you before the heroes came in. The most he got to do was toy with you, keeping close to you while he toys with a flame between his fingers. Poor you looked like you wanted to cry...

He'd kill to see that look again...

He'd kill a lot.

Dabi wanted to keep you. He wanted to keep you with him to toy with just a bit more. Although, even he knows when to retreat when heroes get to be too much.

Since then you have been his biggest fixation. He just kept thinking about how he wanted to corner you again.... Perhaps next time he can even brand you. The idea of seeing those tears again...

It's a euphoric feeling... he craves it.

It was only a matter of time before Dabi got his hands on you again. Since that one day, he's been tracking you like a hound. He finds it amusing, him, obsessive over one measly civilian?

It sounds so strange... Yet he's addicted to the power.

The power that his father never recognized.

When you meet Dabi again, it's in a flash fire of blue flames. Dabi has always been a fan of chaos. It catches attention...

Especially yours... trapped in a pretty sea of flames.

"Isn't it beautiful, sweetheart?" A raspy voice purrs behind you as you hear footsteps behind you. The area that was once seemingly the building you worked at was quickly consumed by blue flames. In the middle of it sat you... and the villain you had met during the League's hostage situation.

You try to back away and run... yet blue flames lap at your feet, forcing you closer to the villain. Dabi can't help but grin at you being trapped with him. This was what he's been wanting...

He wanted more time to toy with his new doll.

Your attempts to run were even more amusing.

"Trying to run, huh?" Dabi muses, stepping closer into the only safe haven from the flames. The blue fire burns in a large circle around you both... like an arena. Even though if you tried fighting, you would surely lose....

"I've been waiting for this, you know that? I've been wanting to play with you since I first saw you... and now you have to." Dabi chuckles, a delighted glint in his eyes as he watches you tremble, weakened by the heat and the chaos he's caused.

"The heroes will just put a stop to this again...." You try to sound intimidating, but Dabi only cackles... he looks like a demon in those flames.

"The heroes?" Dabi scoffs. "You're really going to rely on them again, is that it? You think they're gonna save you? Not this time."

Dabi stalks closer, making you tense. He's so close now and the heat from the flames nearly scorches your skin. It's so hot to the point it almost feels... cold.

"I'd burn this world and everything in it for you." Dabi admits with a chilling grins, so close he could almost touch you if he wanted. However... it seemed he was prolonging this little game of his.

"It's torture, really, you have no idea how much you've been affecting me, do you?" Dabi sighs, blue eyes staring into you with both disdain... and fascination. "Everyone else could turn to ash for all I care. But you? No, you have to be so special for some damn reason...."

You feel his hand grip your chin, even that grip burning as he tilts your head up. He looks at you as though he's studying you. For a moment you can see a dark obsessive look in his eyes.

He can't seem to get enough of you.

"Do you know how many people I've burned just to get you alone?" Dabi confesses, watching as your face pales despite the blistering heat. "I've killed for you, know that? I don't do that for just anyone. I only care about myself, I only burn others for myself... but you... I feel like I have to kill to have you."

You feel Dabi grip your shoulders to pull you closer. Your body comes into contact with his scarred one. You bite back a fearful sob as Dabi forces you to continue watching him. He then chuckles like he thought of a funny joke... when in reality he's thinking of the people who burned up in his flames seemingly minutes prior.

"So what if a few people have to die? It'll only bring us closer!" Dabi laughs, his grip almost as suffocating as the smoke in the room. "They don't matter like you do. They're simply fuel for my hate, my desire, and my flames. Did you hear their screams, sweetheart? I certainly did..."

Dabi sees you begin to cry and he relishes in it. It's such an adorable sight to him. This is what he fantasized about...

This is what he loved.

"Did you know the people here, babe? Were they people you worked with?" Dabi teases, enjoying your helpless state. "I never liked them... Buncha nobodies... Always mingling with you like you were mine to begin with...."

You feel Dabi lean closer to you, as if trying to get a better look at you. You cough and sputter at the smoke in the building, the black plume thickening by the minute. Dabi scoffs... realizing that heroes will certainly become a problem very soon.

"This won't be the last time...." Dabi murmurs, watching you squeal when he picks you up. "I'm going to keep killing for you... I'm going to make you realize that I'm all you have."

You squirm in his arms, him holding your legs as he cages you against his chest. Your attempts to leave him are amusing as he begins to walk out the burning building. He's got what he's come for...

Let the heroes clean it up.

"Struggling is no use, doll." Dabi taunts, grinning when you glare at him. "You and I are going to have a lot of fun..."

Dabi then leans close, teasingly kissing your tears as you squirm.

"You're stuck with me now, like it or not."

[byunpum]

I can be a better father | Part 5 (Ikran)

Pair: Tsu'tey x child-Grow up y/n

Warning: none, cute moments.

Note: Sorry for taking so long to answer the requests. I've had a lot of work these past few weeks, and I really haven't had much of a muse. And if I don't feel like writing, I'd better take a break so I can bring you more material. But still….thanks so much for the support!!!

Requests: (anon) Please could you make more chapters of tsu'tey and the children .. where y/n finds a dragon cub just like drogon. Also do one where spider gets an ikran even though he's human. PLEASE !!!

Avatar masterlist | Part 1, Part 2 , Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Tsu'tey placed the last piece of wood to his hut, tightening it tightly against the other pieces. Stepping back to observe his work, this would be enough to keep spider from falling out of the tree hut again. The man had spent all morning preparing a type of ladder so that his human-children would not fall. They were still too small to climb on the hard bark of the tree, well…they could, but he didn't want them to hurt their hands. His children's skin was delicate, he thought asking Jake for help and advice on what he should do would help and here he was…looking at his work. For a first time doing stairs they didn't look bad, or so he thought.

He sat for a while on the floor, resting. He had sent the kids to play with his half-siblings, neytiri would take care of them. And he would have some time off for himself, but all peace of mind was interrupted when he heard the voice of his little Y/N. Turning his head to see his cute baby with an ikran…newborn. Ikran were territorial creatures, so they didn't usually leave their young alone. But here was her little girl, holding the baby ikran in her tiny arms. Well what she could hold, the creature was much bigger than she was. But Y/N was holding it lovingly, walking swiftly towards her father.

"Sempuuuu, look what I found!!!!" shouts the child. Tsu'tey didn't know how to answer, his mouth was open. He had so many questions at this moment, how on earth had she taken that. Tsu'tey gets up from the ground, running towards her daughter. The creature screams, and moves into her daughter's arms.

"Baby…how? Where did you get? By my eywa" speaks tsu'tey trying to calm down, reaching out to touch the baby ikran. But the baby tries to bite him. While his little girl laughs out loud. "I found him….his mom went and left him. I'm going to be his new mommy" Y/N speaks, hugging the child more. The little girl's tiny body sways backwards trying to control her balance. "baby…we must return this baby to his family, we can't take care of him. He belongs with his family" tsu'tey tries to explain to her little daughter that the little ikran belongs with his own kind.

The little one's face turns to one of distress, pouting. By this time the creature had already cowered in Y/N's arms. "sempu…he is alone, we could take care of him…as you have taken care of me and spider" Y/N speaks, oh no those words have crushed tsu'tey's heart. He was weak when his little girl spoke to him this way. Tsu'tey sighs, he didn't want to hurt his daughter's feelings. He fixes Y/N's hair a bit, apparently she had been doing a lot of mischief the last few hours. Her hair was quite a mess, some loose braids and tangled bits of hair.

"Honey…he must be with his own species" tsu'tey starts to speak, but his daughter interrupts him. One of her small hands, touches his forearm. Her little eyes were teary. "But we are not of the same species and you are our father, right?" The little girl speaks, leaving her father speechless again. She was right, he had decided to adopt them and take care of them no matter where they were from. To tsu'tey they were his children, and always would be. Reaching over to give his little daughter a kiss on the hair. "He can stay" tsu'tey watches as her daughter begins to jump for joy, while the creature jumps with her. "but only until he can take care of himself" tsu'tey orders, the little girl accepts all excited. Hugging the baby ikran tightly. Tsu'tey had to admit that ikran babies were not something he was happy about, they were noisy and difficult to take care of.

It was very strange that he was alone, so he decided to investigate the whereabouts of the mother of this creature. And after a week of failing in his search, he proved his daughter absolutely right. Apparently the mother had left him, and she had no one to take care of him. The little ikran had one wing bigger than the other. It was not much of a difference, but this was surely the reason why he was left. Tsu'tey was happy to see how his daughter was taking care of the baby, sleeping with him. Hunting for the little ikran to eat. She looked so cute, with her little bow hunting any creature smaller than herself to give to her baby ikran. The bigger the creature grew, the stronger the bond Y/N had with her.

As the years went by…while other youngsters had to train an ikran, bond with them. And create a connection. Y/N was already flying the skies of Pandora, with taw. So she decided to name her ikran. A beautiful ikran, blue and pink in color. This surprised a lot of people, humans are not able to create bonds like the na'vi do. It created a lot of doubt and curiosity among the na'vi community, humans could have more feelings than they thought.

While the other boys were trying to bond with the ikran, even the sully boys. Y/n was calmly petting her ikran. Tsu'tey watched them curiously, himself wondering how this was possible. Watching as his daughter, hugged the creature, and the ikran closed her eyes with love and a calmness that seemed like something magical. As if the two of them were one and the same person. "You know…having that kind of bond…it's something unique and special" tsu'tey says, with some mockery in his tone. He was rubbing it in jakesully's face, that his daughter had gotten an ikran first and more effectively than his sons. Jake pouts, but laughs. "I remind you that she is my daughter too" jakesully speaks, laughing as he sees tsu'tey stand up straight. Pushing him a little, and walking away from jake.

Tsu'tey walks towards his daughter, touching her hair. The girl looks up, giving her father a big smile. "Sempu…taw is more beautiful every day, don't you think so?" the girl speaks, seeing how her daddy looks at her with such admiration and adoration. "You're amazing sweetie" tsu'tey says, seeing how his little girl giggles. And she answers him with a ' I know'. Sitting down together to watch the training of the others.

[bimobuddy]

Just Like (Really) Old Times

SFW Hazbin Tickle Fic

Lee!Adam, Ler!Lucifer

Sinner!Adam

Spoilers and Swearing

AdamsApple if you squint just a little

Summary: Adam moved into the Hotel and that means living with the very people he tried to Exterminate, and with the very man he's hated for so long. However when Lucifer brings back some 'old memories,' he starts to warm up to the idea of living there.

It had definitely been a shock for... everyone.

The day someone knocked at the Hotel doors, and when Charlie opened them, she was met with someone.. familiar.

There stood Adam, now with grayer skin, red eyes, leathery wings, and horns. As he opened his mouth to speak, it was revealed that he even had fangs now.

"Uh... hi..."

He had expected for the doors to be slammed in his face, for Charlie to tell him to get lost, hell, he even expected to be killed again.

But as Charlie looked up at him for a moment, she stepped aside, and opened the door wider.

"Checking in? We have room."

♡♡♡

Weeks had gone by, and everyone was tense. How couldn't they be? The crew had to live within close proximity of the man who's been leading exterminations for years to kill them. And Adam was living within close proximity of the people he's been exterminating for years.. it was awkward as shit.

And for the first time, he felt like he didn't belong somewhere. He felt as though he had invited himself into someone else's house and was overstaying his welcome- But he had nowhere else to go.

He didn't even know what to do with himself. He had become the very creature he had sworn to destroy. The very pest he had been exterminating. His beautiful golden feathers were gone, his halo was gone.. Everything about himself, to him at least, was gone.

Lucifer leaned against the wall, arms crossed, as he watched Adam from across the room. The First Man was on the couch, looking down his his clawed hands that looked so unfamiliar to him. It reminded the king of when he had first met Adam, back when the man had been created. And back before he had fallen.

-

Adam looked down at his hands in awe. He turned them over, amazed before looking down at the rest of himself. He had been alive for about a month at this point, but he couldn't get over the fact that he was alive and existing. He loved it. He loved being able to see the world around him, being able to hear birds, the wind in the leaves, even his own voice. Especially his own voice. He had spent quite a while just sitting and speaking to himself, even just making random noises, stretching his words out, making the tone go up and down. One of the angels sent to check on him told him it was called 'singing.' He liked singing.

As Adam sat there, just making random noises to himself, he hadn't noticed a familiar white serpent approach him. Not until it chuckled at the noises he was making, startling him. Lucifer transformed back into his normal form. "Sorry for scaring you. I see you've discovered singing." He mused, sitting next to him.

Adam nodded, grinning. "It's fun, I really like it. I think it sounds nice... Um- ... I'm sorry, which one are you?" Lucifer tilted his head and laughed lightly. "Lucifer. I usually stay as a snake when I enter the garden?" The man perked up. "Oh yeah! The white one! I'm Adam!"

Lucifer couldn't help but grin at the human's enthusiasm. He adored it to be honest. "Trust me, we all know who you are. How are you enjoying life so far?" "Oh, I really like it! I like learning new things about myself. So far I've learned that I like sweet things, like fruit, and soft things like those other horse things- with the.. branches.. on their heads?" "Deer?" "Yeah, deer, I like those."

The angel smiled along with Adam, just as excited as he was about his discoveries. "You wanna know what else is soft? Here, I think you'll like it." He extended one of his wings out for Adam to feel, accidentally brushing it against his side. The human jumped and covered his side, a surprised grin spreading across his face followed by a sweet sounding giggle.

Lucifer gasped and scooted closer. "You're ticklish! I didn't know we were giving that to humans! Oh this is great, you're going to have so much fun-" "What's.. What's ticklish?"

The angel grinned, excitedly. "Lift your arms a little bit, I'll show you." Adam did as he was told, lifting his arms up. Again, Lucifer extended his wings, gently brushing them against Adam's sides. The human snorted and slammed his arms down, laughing. Lucifer pulled his wings back to avoid having them stuck under Adam's arms, instead reaching out and gently digging into the sides of his tummy.

Adam shrieked and threw his head back, laughing. Not wanting to overwhelm him, Lucifer slowed to a stop, and pulled his hands back. After a moment of giggling and catching his breath, the human looked back up at the angel, sitting up and smiling.

"Can you do that again?"

-

Adam looked up at Lucifer. "The fuck are you staring at, loser?" Lucifer raised a brow. "I'm sorry, who lost?" He asked, leaning on his cane. Adam flinched a little and looked away, back down at his hands. They were clawed, darker at the hands than the rest of his arm.

The couch dipped down, causing Adam to look back up at the angel next to him. The angel he was so familiar with. The angel he had once been friends with. Lucifer smiled. "Actually I was just remembering some things.. Back when you were still alive. Like how you told me you liked sweet things. Do you still? It's been a couple years since then."

Adam snorted. "Yeah, just a couple thousand.. Yes, I do still like sweet foods." The king chuckled. "And I remembered you telling me about the 'horse things with branches on their heads.-'" "Oh fuhuck off, I didn't know what deer were."

"But one more thing I remembered," Lucifer skittered up his side, "Was when we discovered you were ticklish." Adam jolted upright, batting his hand away. "Fuhuck off- Don't-" "I specifically remembered you asking me to do it again. Do you remember that?" He asked, abandoning his cane to gently scribble up both of his sides.

Adam immediately burst into giggles, slamming his arms down. "Fuck! fuhuhuhuck you fuhuck off noho I dihidn't!" Lucifer chuckled and tweaked his sides, gently squishing the pudge between his claws, causing Adam to shriek and curl up. "Yes the fuck you did, you liar," he laughed along with him, "That wasn't the only time either, buddy. It seemed any chance you got, you were asking me to tickle you."

Adam was blushing, and blushing hard. He grabbed ahold of Lucifer's wrists, but couldn't really push him away as he was giggling so hard. The king continued, "You loved it so much you introduced Eve to it, I remember that," He gently kneaded into Adam's ribs, earning some squeals, "You're not as sneaky as you think you are, Buddy."

Lucifer raked his fingers down Adam's ribs, and gently skittered across his belly. The sinner tried to curl up and bat his hands away, letting out a snort. "Dohohont- Shuhuhut the fuHUCK uhuhup!" "Oh, don't shut the fuck up? Alrighty~!" The teasing got to Adam. He gave up fighting back and just covered his face.

"I know during our fight I said you 'let yourself go,' but you know what, I think this is better," he started to scritch at his tummy, "Now I have more tickle room." Adam's face turned an even darker shade of red at this, growing more and more flustered.

"Fuck- st- nohohoho!" "See? Even now you're still stopping yourself from saying 'stop.'" Adam started to bat at him again, grabbing for his wrists, "SHUHUT THE FUHUCK UHUHUP!"

Lucifer pulled his hands back, grinning as he watched Adam just go completely limp, his giggles mixing with his panting. "Question for you Addy," "Don't you ever fucking call me that again." "When you were an angel, were your wings ticklish?"

Adam's black and red eyes snapped open. Instinctively, his wings folded over his body, as if he were cocooning himself. "Don't you fucking dare, Lucy."

Lucifer stopped.

"You called me Lucy." Adam paused a little, too. "Yeah.." Lucifer smiled a little. "You haven't called me that since Eden." The sinner looked away momentarily. "I guess.. All this sort of just.. reminded me of the Garden," He looked back down at his claws, "Things were.. so much simpler back then."

Sensing his discomfort with his new body, Lucifer took one of Adam's hands in his own. "You don't look bad, y'know. I know it's different, scary even, but it's not bad." He turned Adam's hand over so it was resting palm-up. He softly traced it, watching as the other's claws twitched from the soft ticklish feeling. "It'll take some time, Adam, but you'll get used to it. Comfortable, even-" "That's what I'm worried about.." Adam looked down at him, being a full two feet taller. He sighed and pulled his hand back.

They sat in silence for a bit before Lucifer broke it. "You know, Charlie is thrilled that you're here." Adam scoffed, "After I destroyed the place and nearly killed you guys?"

"She's happy that you chose to be here. You made the decision to check into a Hotel meant for redemption. That means somewhere deep down, you at the very least have hope. And that's a good start."

Adam huffed. "What if it's not possible..?" The king looked up at him. "Then I guess you're stuck here with us." He offered a smile.

The sinner couldn't help but smile back. As much as he would have loathed the though even just a week ago, it didn't seem so bad now. Lucifer seemed to want to be his friend again, and Charlie was a sweet kid who truly seemed to believe in him.

Back in Heaven, he had a lot of power, sure. He was The Man. He always got what he wanted, whether it was power, bent rules, or sex. But here? He was seen as an equal, as someone who was flawed, someone who had been human. And he was surprisingly okay with that.

His soft smile, turned to a smirk. "I remember something, too." Lucifer tilted his head, curiously. Adam continued, "I remember the first time I retaliated, and found out your wings were ticklish as fuck." "Shit- you back the fuck off-" Lucifer hopped up and took off running.

Adam unfolded his wings, which seemed to be stronger than they once were, and with a powerful flap, immediately caught up to him.

Who knew the King of Hell hiccuped when he laughed?

[st-danger]

What about the ghouls' horns being an erogenous zone for the ghouls and one of the Papas not realising while giving them horn scritches?

Terzo and Copia? Both touchy in their own ways. But while Terzo was intentional, every brush of fingers a loaded gun, a promise, Copia is...not so aware.

Aether is, perhaps, a little nasty for taking advantage of that. For getting a little something out of Copia that he doesn't know he's giving. Perverted. Just a little headache, he'd told him when Copia had found him resting his head in his hands. Paracetamol and other drug store sundries never work well for ghouls, even when they're taking a more human form, and certainly the effort of holding a glamour up when aching does nothing to help. So when Copia offers Aether his bed, offers to let him rest in his lap so he can rub his temples, of course he's quick to say yes.

He's a little wrong for asking Copia to remove his gloves. And he's nasty for not stopping him when absently, his fingers stroke away from his temple to rub at the base of a horn. The shock of pleasure is instant, sharp and intense and- he gasps, stomach clenching and Copia immediately withdraws.

"Oh. Is it very painful there?"

Aether sucks in a breath, and feels momentarily guilty. This behavior, he could expect it from someone like Omega. Dew, maybe. Ifrit for sure.

"It's sore," Aether mumbles, lying through his pointed teeth. Even just that little touch makes his tail go stiff. And he's about to use him to get stiff in other places, too. Oh, he shouldn't. He really shouldn't. Bad. Wrong. Dirty. And yet... "Would probably helped if you rubbed there for a little bit."

"Certainly," Copia says, and begins a gentle caress. "As long as you'd like."

Aether shuts his eyes tight, and bites his tongue at the sensation, frissions of pleasure sparking down his spine to somewhere lower. More private.

"And how is that?"

Aether curls up, draws the knee of his outside leg up just enough to provide a little coverage of his lap. Afford him a little privacy because this is going to get him hard in no time at all, and he ought to be truly ashamed.

"S'good," he says. Feeling Copia's bare hand there, when usually there is leather in the way feels even more perverse. His fingertips trace the seam where his horn meets his head and his cock begins to tingle. True to his word, he just...rubs. Touches. Hums contentedly while he thinks he's helping Aether handle the worst of his headache, wickedly unaware that he's doing more to help get his short, thick cock all red and heavy than he is the headache.

He tries very hard to keep his breath steady. To hold the whines and the low moan that threatens to bubble up safe within. He should stop Copia. But then what? Stand up and try to leave the room with his back turned so Copia doesn't see his cock pressed against his pants, tenting?

"Do your horns ever hurt?" Copia asks, and the question pulls him out of his thoughts in an instant. "I've had toothaches. Is it like that?"

"I don't know," Aether says, "I've never had one."

"Well I suppose it isn't the tooth itself that hurts, is it?" Copia muses. "It's the nerves inside, really." Oh, he does not want to listen to Copia discuss teeth. "Do your horns have nerves inside?"

They do. He doesn't need to know how many, though.

"Could you try rubbing those too? Might help. Maybe." Like he doesn't know. Like he isn't aware of the effect it has, like he's never asked Dew to stroke them while he masturbates to send him hurtling over the edge.

Slow, careful fingers start to slide up and down one, and then the other, and he feels himself grow hot and fat in his pants.

"How is that?"

"Would it- I'm a little cold," Aether lies. "Would you hand me a blanket?"

"Oh, certainly," Copia says with zero hesitation, leaning away for a moment to snatch a throw, and peel it open from how it's been folded. Draping it over Aether. Covering. Privacy. Brings it up to his neck.

He tries to make it look like a casual adjustment in position, snuggling under and crossing his hands over his chest. He has to fight to hold the moan when Copia's hands return to his head, only this time, it's both hands, one on each horn.

He uses his thumbs to brush over his nipples, feel them peaked through his shirt. Brushing back and forth and getting them good and stiff. Copia can't see under the blanket. He can pleasure himself here and he won't be any the wiser.

His face his hot.

Nasty, he thinks. So bad. But he wants to be touched and made to feel good and-

"Okay?" Copia asks.

"Maybe a little faster?" Aether asks in a small voice. The guilt leaking through. Copia doesn't notice.

"Of course, my ghoul," he says.

Aether gives his nipples a surreptitious little tweak.

"Just relax, eh? No need to be so tense. Relax for your Papa."

"Okay," he manages.

He forces himself to draw a deep breath.

Under the blanket, his dick throbs.

"Once we get this sorted, I'll rub you there, too." Copia hums. Knowing. He sounds amused.

Aether whimpers, ashamed, face hot.

[cryptidghostgirl]

Make You Wish Chapter Six -- Stolas

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Previous Part: Chapter Five -- The Conversation

Warnings: None for this chapter I don't think but please correct me if I am wrong.

Word Count: 1,568

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List 

Make You Wish Master List

A/N I promise I am working on getting requests out as quick as I can. Apologies for them taking a while, things have been super hectic recently and I am also massively depressed.

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

Y/n thanked the imp guard who let her into the office gracefully as she entered the space. It was dark, all the curtains drawn to cover the windows. The small speck of light that escaped their grasps traversed the floor frantically, bringing Stolas into high relief. He was sitting at his desk, bent over it with his hands tangled in the feathers of his hair. He looked stressed and appeared not to have noticed Y/n's presence. She cleared her throat.

"You asked to see me?"

Stolas raised his head, turning to face her with wide, nearly unseeing eyes. Long ago such a look from such a demon would have sent a shiver down Y/n's spine. Now, she simply watched him. Things had changed, she had changed. The afterlife had finally hardened her.

"Yes." he got to his feet, walking over to her, "I wanted to- what are you wearing?"

Y/n rolled her eyes. The judgment and scrutiny thick on his tongue wasn't helped by his posh accent.

"Clothes?" she indignantly responded.

There wasn't a way for her to exist around the man who owned her soul that wasn't guarded, inside and out. She crossed her arms, tapping her foot slightly.

"My dear, you look lik-"

"Don't call me that." Y/n interrupted, "I've asked you before. I don't like it."

The name was an infringement of boundaries. It simulated closeness and before today drove the nails of loss further into the muscle of her heart. In a way, it still did. Alastor was back but, he had still gone and things were still different. Y/n couldn't quite get a read on him yet, his plans and ambitions, his purpose in returning and in finding her.

She felt like what he wanted was for things to go back to normal, to the way they had been. Y/n knew that was an impossible future for her and had the slight idea that it might be for him as well. To be perfectly honest, Y/n wasn't sure she even really wanted things to go back.

The dress had been nice and she had wished for Alastor to return many times over the years but she had also worked hard for her life. She had tried, put all her effort in, and she liked the person that had come out the other side. There was a fear in Alastor's return, a fear that with him back, all her hard work would be undone. That she would comfortably let herself slip back into the familiar, becoming nothing but his guest star once again. Still, she knew Alastor, knew he would always do what it took to get what he wanted regardless of how anyone else felt about it. It was the one truly consistent thing about him.

"My apologies." Stolas sighed, "I was simply taken aback by your appearance. You look like a human."

"I know." she hummed, unable to keep the slight smile, the slight hint of warmth from her voice.

Y/n was conflicted about Alastor but she was still happy he was back, overjoyed even. The conflict didn't stop those feelings from bubbling to the surface.

"It was a gift."

"A gift?" Stolas repeated, intrigued, "From whom?"

"It doesn't matter." Y/n shook her head, all semblance of a smile falling from her features, "Why did you ask me to come?"

"Always straight to business with you." he mused, "It wasn't Blitzo, was it? I know you two are close..."

There was an unvoiced fear in his question. Y/n couldn't quite trace it's origin. Stolas was always odd when it came to the imp in question however and so, she payed it no mind. There was enough going on without any added pressure or confusion concerning the man who owned her soul and her dear friend.

"No, it wasn't Blitzo. It was an old friend of mine."

"An old friend... it wouldn't happen to be the Radio Demon, would it?" Stolas asked in mild disgust at the thought, "I saw that little show he put on, treating poor Vox so distastefully, so no use trying to hide the fact that he has returned."

Stolas knew Y/n had been close with Alastor before his disappearance. At the beginning of their arrangement, he had been so set on them being friends and had quizzed Y/n about her life at every opportunity. Eventually, Y/n's lack of equal enthusiasm beat him into submission but Stolas still drew on what he did know when necessary.

"Stolas, it doesn't concern you." Y/n sighed, "You own my soul, not my social life."

There was a tense moment, a sharp, shared gaze. Stolas relented.

"You are correct. I just know how hurt you were the last time and men like him... Y/n, they don't change."

Unbidden anxiety snuck momentarily into Y/n's mind and she beat it back with a baseball bat. These were thoughts for later, to run her hands over when she was alone in her room. It didn't matter that he was giving voice to her deepest concerns and confusions, this was neither the time nor the place to address them.

"I figured things out, learned to fend for myself." she replied, working hard to keep her voice even and respectful, "I'll do it again need be."

Stolas was not a man of violence but he was one who had a great capacity for it. Y/n knew this, Y/n was always careful around him because of this. It wasn't like Alastor where camaraderie flowed easily between them, creating an even ground in place of a power imbalance. While Stolas could on occasion be kind, pleasant, even endearing in Y/n's gaze, she always knew exactly where they both stood when she was in his presence.

"I'm just worried about you."

"Why?"

She hadn't meant to ask it. All the pressure, the changes of the day had been building up inside her and begun to trickle over the edges. She needed to be alone.

Stolas seemed equally as taken aback by her question as Y/n had been in asking it. He struggled to speak, his mouth opening and shutting several times before he finally spoke. It was as if even he didn't know the answer.

"You work for me, I don't want you ending up useless."

It was out of character and inane, they both knew it. Y/n didn't press the matter any further, ready to leave and get on with her life. Ready to sleep and see if things were real when she woke up.

"So, what did you need me to do?"

Stolas cleared his throat, comfort and authority seeping back into his being. He was such a strange man, so powerful yet so unsure. Y/n never quite knew what to do with him.

"I need the book, my grimoire."

"It's not the full moon already, is it?"

That was the deal: IMP got to use the book except for when it was the full moon. Stolas shook his head.

"No, it isn't but there is a festival in the Wrath Ring I need to conduct a ceremony at. It is a yearly event."

"And you don't have it all memorized already?"

Stolas glared lightly at her.

"I am a busy man."

Y/n was on the verge of asking if moping in his office, alone in the dark was a part of this alleged busyness but stopped herself. It was a good impulse, the one in her that avoided conflict. She crossed her arms.

"Fine, I'll bring it to you. When do you need it by?"

"Tomorrow." as if struck by a sudden inspiration, Stolas' eyes lit up, "Why don't you all come with?"

"You mean IMP?"

"Yes! It could be a wonderful time. The festival is always so quaint and joyful, I think you would like it."

"Millie would probably be happy at that." Y/n mused, a finger to her chin in thought, "And Mox. They're from Wrath after all but... I can't travel between rings, Stolas, and our deal means you stay away from Blitzo."

Stolas shook his head, laughing slightly.

"That first issue is easy enough to fix."

"Is it?" Y/n looked up at him, her brow furrowed.

It was times like this he wished his life had panned out differently. Stolas saw a friend in the demon, a companion. Instead, she was essentially his slave. Stolas had never been good at people and Y/n was no different. The line between them was wobbly at best under his command.

"I am a Goetia." he reminded her, "There is not a lot that I can't do."

"Okay then, I just never... never thought the scope of your power would include something like that. I thought it all had to do with the human realm."

"And you are a human soul."

"I guess that makes sense." Y/n shrugged after a moment's thought, "But that still leaves Blitzo."

"I wont bother him, you have my word."

Y/n could see the flash of strife beneath his cool complexion as Stolas raised a hand in oath. He was obsessed with physical representations of the immaterial, Y/n knew. It was nearly charming.

"Fine."

"Fantastic, it really will be a wonderful time. Why don't you bring that old friend of yours along too!"

----

TAGS:

@luzzbuzz @fudosl @mfnqueen1

[gingermintpepper]

As usual I read your tags always and so you said Apollo did not ask for resurrection of Asclepius and Hyacinthus so i just wanted to share this. About Asclepius death I read it on theoi.com, that earlier authors don't make him resurrect as a god but that's a later development mentioned only by Roman authors like Cicero, Hyginus and Ovid. But still Apollo has a role in Ovid's version

Ovid, Fasti 6. 735 ff (trans.Boyle) (Roman poetry C1st B.C. to C1st A.D.) : Clymenus [Haides] and Clotho resent the threads of life respun and death's royal rights diminished. Jove [Zeus] feared the precedent and aimed his thunderbolt at the man who employed excessive art. Phoebus [Apollon], you whined. He is a god; smile at your father, who, for your sake, undoes his prohibitions [i.e. when he obtains immortality for Asklepios].

So here it is actually because of Apollo the decision was taken to resurrect him as god. And with Hyacinthus, I don't think I've read about Artemis playing the primary role. I know in Sparta there was a picture of Artemis, Athena and Aphrodite carrying Hyacinthus and his sister to heaven.

This is not on theoi.com but I saw on Tumblr it's from Dionysiaca by Nonnus

Second, my lord Oiagros wove a winding lay, as the father of Orpheus who has the Muse his boon companion. Only a couple of verses he sang, a ditty of Phoibos, clearspoken in few words after some Amyclaian style: Apollo brought to life again his longhaired Hyacinthos: Staphylos will be made to live for aye by Dionysos.

So since he is singing inspired by amyclean stories it probably means in that place it was believed Apollo was the one to bring back his lover to life.

Apollo as god of order was very important so i think it shows how special these people (and admetus too) were to him that he decided to go against the order for them 🥺

ANON!! Shakes you like a bottle of ramune!! BELOVED ANON!!!!! I'm littering your face with kisses, I'm anointing you with olive oil and honey - you absolutely made my night with this because, not only did I get the pure serotonin shot of having someone interact with my tags (yippee, wahoo!!) I also got to have that wonderful feeling of "oh wow, have I misunderstood something that was integral to my understanding of this myth/figure this whole time or is this a case of interpretational differences?" which is imo vital for my aims and interests as someone who enjoys mythological content and literature.

I'll preface my response with this: Hyacinthus is by far the hardest of these to get accounts for because his revival itself, as you very astutely point out, is generally accounted for in painting/ritual format which muddies the waters on who interceded for what. I wasn't actually familiar with that passage from the Argonautica - and certainly didn't remember it so thank you very much for bringing it to my attention!

That said, what I've come to understand, both about Hyacinthus and about Asclepius is that in the accounts of their deaths, Apollo's position is startlingly clear.

For Hyacinthus, it is established time and again that Apollo would have sacrificed everything for him - his status, his power, his very own immortality and divinity. Ovid writes that Apollo would have installed him as a god if only he had the time:

(Ovid. Metamorphoses. Book X. trans. Johnston)

Many other writers too speak of how Apollo abandoned his lyre and his seat at Delphi to spend his days with Hyacinthus, but they also all agree that when it came to his death - he was powerless. Ovid gives that graphic account of Apollo's desperation as he tries all his healing arts to save him to no avail:

(Ovid, Metamorphoses Book X. Apollo me boy, methinks him dead. trans Johnston)

Bion, in one of his fragments, writes that Apollo was "dumb" upon seeing Hyacinthus' agony:

(Bion, The Bucolic Poets. Fragment XI. trans Edmonds)

Even Nonnus in the Dionysiaca speaks constantly of Apollo's helplessness in the face of Hyacinthus' fate where he writes that the god still shivers if a westward wind blows upon an iris:

and when Zephyros breathed through the flowery garden, Apollo turned a quick eye upon his young darling, his yearning never satisfied; if he saw the plant beaten by the breezes, he remembered the quoit, and trembled for fear the wind, so jealous once about the boy, might hate him even in a leaf...

(Nonnus, Dionysiaca, Book 3. trans Rouse)

And the point here is just that - Apollo, at least as far as I've read, cannot avert someone's death. He simply can't. Once they're already dead - once Fate has cut their string - all Apollo's power is gone and he can do nothing no matter how much he wants to. And this is, as far as I know, supported with the accounts of Asclepius as well!

Since you specifically brought up Ovid's account, I'll also stick only to Ovid's account but in Metamorphoses when we get Ovid's version of Coronis' demise, he writes that Apollo intensely and immediately regrets slaughtering Coronis. He regrets it so intensely that he, like he does with Hyacinthus, does his best to resuscitate her:

(Ovid, Metamorphoses Book Two. Apollo's regret)

And like Hyacinthus, when it becomes clear that what has happened cannot be undone, Apollo wails:

(Ovid, Metamorphoses Book Two. Apollo wept.)

Unlike his mother, Asclepius in her womb had not yet died and so, with the last of Apollo's strength, he does manage, at least, to save him.

(Ovid, Metamorphoses Book Two. Apollo puts the 'tearing out' in Asclepius.)

But it goes further than even that because Ocyrhoe, Chiron's daughter, a prophetess who unduly gained the ability to directly proclaim the secrets of the Fates, upon seeing the baby Asclepius, immediately prophesies his glory, his inevitable death and then his fated ascension:

(Ovid. Metamorphoses, Book Two. Ocyrhoe's prophecy. trans Johnston)

Before she too succumbs to her hubris and is transformed by the Fates into a horse so she can no longer speak secrets that aren't hers to share.

These things ultimately are important because it establishes two very important things: 1) Apollo can't do anything in the face of the ultimate Fate of mortals, which is, of course, death and 2) even when Apollo is Actively Devastated, regretful, yearning, mournful, guilty or some unholy combination of all of the above, when someone is dead, he accepts that they are gone. Even if he is devastated by it, even if he'll cry all the rest of his days about it - if they're dead? Apollo lets them go. In Fasti, when Zeus brings Asclepius back, he does not say Apollo asked him to - Zeus, or well, in this case Jove, brings Asclepius back because he wants Apollo to stop being mad at him.

(Ovid, Fasti VI. Apollo please come home your father misses you. trans. A.S Kline)

Even Boyle's translation which you used above in your findings hints that Zeus made Asclepius a god because he wanted Apollo to stop grieving. (i.e 'smile at your father', 'for your sake [he] undoes his prohibitions')

And like, Apollo was deeply upset by Asclepius' death - apart from killing the Cyclops in anger, in book 4 of the Argonautica, Apollonius writes that the Celts believe the stream of Eridanus to be the tears Apollo shed over the death of Asclepius when he left for Hyperborea after being chastised by Zeus for killing his Cyclops:

But the Celts have attached this story to them, that these are the tears of Leto's son, Apollo, that are borne along by the eddies, the countless tears that he shed aforetime when he came to the sacred race of the Hyperboreans and left shining heaven at the chiding of his father, being in wrath concerning his son whom divine Coronis bare in bright Lacereia at the mouth of Amyrus.

It all paints a very clear picture to me. Apollo did not ask for either of them to be brought back. Though bringing them back certainly pleased and delighted him, they are actions of other gods who are moved by Apollo's grief and mourning and seek to mollify him. Him not asking doesn't mean he didn't want them back which I think is a very important distinction by the by, but it simply means that Apollo knows the natural order of things and, even if it hurts, he isn't going to press his luck about it.

Which, of course, brings us to Admetus. And I'm really not going to overcomplicate this, Admetus is different because, very vitally, Admetus is not dead. Apollo can't do a thing once Fate has been carried out and Death has claimed a mortal but you know what he absolutely can do? Bargain like hell with the Fates before that point of inevitability. And that's what he does, ultimately for Admetus and Alcestis. He sought to prolong Admetus' life, not revive him from death or absolve him from death altogether and even after getting the Fates drunk, he's still only able to organise a sacrifice - a life for a life - something completely contingent on whether some other mortal would be willing to die in Admetus' place and not at all controllable by Apollo's own power.

All of these things, I think come back to that point you made - that Apollo's place as a god of order is very important and therefore these people are very special to him if it means he's willing to go against that order but, I also wish to challenge that opinion if you'd let me. Apollo's place as a god of order is very important and therefore, I would argue, that it is even more important that it is shown that he does not break the divine order, especially for the people that mean the most to him. The original context of my comments which started this conversation were on this lovely, lovely post by @hyacinthusmemorial which contemplated upon Asclepius from the perspective of an Emergency Medical personnel and included, in their tags, the very poignant lines "there's something about Apollo letting go when Asclepius couldn't that eats my heart away" and "you do what you can, you do your best, but you don't ever reach too far" and I think that's perfectly embodied with the Apollo-Asclepius dichotomy. Apollo grieves. He wails, he cries, he does his best each and every time to save that which is precious to him but he does not curse their nature, he does not resent that they are human and ultimately, he accepts that that which is mortal must inevitably die. There is nothing that so saliently proves that those who uphold rules are also their most staunch followers - if Apollo wants to delight in his place as Fate's mouthpiece, he cannot undo Fate. And, if even the god of healing and order himself cannot undo death, what right does Asclepius, mortal as he is, talented as he is, have to disrespect it?

The beauty of these stories isn't that Apollo loved them enough to bring them back. The beauty is that Apollo loved them enough to let them go.

[worldofkuro]

Painted Smile

Painted Smile XXXVI

<- Previous Chapter I Next Chapter ->

Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: Sorry, it's been so long isn't it ? I'm working and I only have Sunday as my day off so... Maybe I'll write longer chapter.. I don't know yet. But now, please enjoy today's chapter! I've been told the past never let you go... How depressing.

It’s been a few days since Trey’s attempt on your family’s life. You have been sick since you had healed Alastor, and now you had two protectors with you. Alastor couldn’t work yet, so he stayed at home, taking care of everything. 

“ Mommy, do you want water ?’” You peeked at your daughter who was looking at you worriedly.  

After the fire, your parents and Marie came to visit you. They were so worried, it was a cute scene to watch them fuzz about you. Fortunately, they didn’t stay too long and you managed to have a discussion with people much more interesting.

“ Papa Legba, Baron Samedi..?” You asked calmly, sitting in the living room, your daughter on your lap. You observed Alastor who was standing up, his arms crossed behind his back, his usual smile on his face. He seemed pleased with himself, you wondered why..

“ Little lady… Alastor…”

You turned your head to the old man with a soft smile. No matter the years that have passed by, Legba still looked the same. He was still looking at you with a gentle gaze, full of knowledge you wished you possessed. He was sitting on a chair, with his cane between his legs.

“ Hello, little doll. How are you, Alastor?”

You grinned at Baron Samedi’s greeting. He was leaning against the wall, his cigar in his mouth and his usual amused smile on his lips. He seemed relaxed enough to have the discussion you were dying to have.

“ Well, goodmorning, gentlemen. I think you already know why you were called today.” Alastor mused as he moved toward the center of the living room. You smirked, he always loved the attention huh… “ Baron Samedi, something to say perhaps ?”

“ Why would I? I have no obligation to you.” The spirit smirked, blowing the smoke out of his mouth toward Alasto who didn’t even flinch. 

“ Maybe not me, but my daughter? I think you do.” 

You glanced at Alice who was looking at her father, her head tilted. She seemed curious about what her father was doing... Could she not see the spirit..? Yet, she could interact with your shadows… You sighed, kissing her forehead once more. You still didn’t know if bringing your child into this spiritual world was a good idea… Maybe you should wait a little longer..? But perhaps it was too late? She managed to create a shield around Alastor and herself… 

You closed your eyes, not quite listening to Alastor and the Baron’s conversation. You just wanted your family to be safe, that was the reason you made a deal. To protect Alastor… And now, your little girl… At first, Alastor’s father was the enemy, the one stopping you from a happy ending… Now… It’s someone older than you, who has had his eyes on you since you were a teenager… You couldn’t help but shiver at the thought.

“ Mommy…” You peeked down on Alice who was looking at you, a grimace on her face that made you chuckle. “ It smells bad.”

You tilted your head to the side and then tried to find the odor your daughter was smelling. Maybe you left some meat outside..? No, you really couldn’t smell anything bad… 

“ Where does it smell, Alice?”

She jumped from your lap and sniffed the air. You saw Legba watching the little girl with a soft gaze, an amused smile on his lips. You giggled when Alice asked her father to stop talking because she couldn’t concentrate on the smell if he kept talking. You winked at your husband who rolled his eyes at his daughter.

“ Alice, what did I tell you?”

“ What ?”

“ When I seem to be talking ‘alone’, you don’t talk.” Alastor sighed, shaking his head.

“ But Dad! It smells… bad! Like… Like when we were in the fire but worse !” She claimed, pouting while her arms were crossed on her chest.

Was she traumatized enough to smell the fire once again? After all, when you almost drown on the lake, years before, you would sometimes think your lungs were full of water and you couldn't breathe anymore. Thank God, you weren’t alone when that had happened, and you had been taken care of easily. 

Was it the same for Alice?

You stood up but Alastor made a gesture for you to stay sitten. 

“ Where does it smell, Alice?”

Your eyes followed Alice who was walking hesitantly toward Baron Samedi. The Baron truly seemed surprised when Alice pointed toward his cigar, as so were you. She didn’t seem to see him, but she could smell the cigar he was smoking..? What did it mean? You wanted answers now, when did you lose control of all the information?

“ Baron Samedi, please, explain yourself.” You asked, not caring if you were being disrespectful.  Right now, Alice’s safety was your priority.

“ Well… I’m as surprised as you..,” He crouched in front of Alice who was pinching her own nose. It seemed like she really didn’t like the smoke that was coming from the Baron. She truly didn’t seem to see him.. “ I thought she would be able to see me now.” 

You glanced at Papa Legba who was looking at Alice with a soft smile. He stood up and walked toward your daughter with his cane taping the floor loudly. Your eyes widened as Alice turned her eyes toward the noise before rushing into your arms, scared.

“ Mommy !”

You stared at her then at the two spirits. You were completely dumbfounded, your little girl could.. feel spirit ? You shouldn’t be this surprised, she was always playing with your shadow since she was a baby. She was also used to seeing you telekinesis objects in the house, she was used to …magic.. but..

“ I see you are full of questions, little lady. Alice seems to be very sensitive to spiritual energy…”

“  Can Alice really feel the spirit around her..? Then why can she play with my and Alastor’s shadow ..?” You asked, trying to calm your daughter that was trying to get your attention, pointing to where she heard the noise.

“ Well, my dear. Look at her parents.” Alastor claimed, with a proud smirk. You shook your head with a small grin. He was so full of himself… “ But what I want to know is, why Baron Samedi..? Why didn't Kalfu or you, Papa Legba, were the one to reach her?” 

“ Well, if we resume everything. Alastor, your blood is powerful, Voodoo has always been in your reach, it always has been in your life thanks to your mother. You tainted your wife’s blood with yours, making her able to see spirits and even to work with them.” Papa Legba recounted, his hand pointing toward you. “ Then, you bound yourself together, into the spiritual realm…the vessel being a deer plushie… A plushie your daughter never let go off.”

You peeked at Alice who had calmed down, her eyes were staring at Papa Legba’s position but you could feel she wasn’t seeing anything. She was mostly trying to see who you were talking to.

“ Alastor, you made a deal to kill, so you could be stronger. Your wife has made a deal with Death to protect you. You named your daughter after a brutally deceased friend. Death has always been around you, so , wouldn't it be logical for your daughter to be close to Death too..? Now, the real question is: Is Alice protected by Death..? Or cursed by it?”

You felt like drowning. Your little baby… No, she didn’t have to pay for your sins. You peeked at Baron Samedi who was listening quietly to the conversation, never speaking.

Why? Wasn’t he on your side? Should he not just say Papa Legba was doing a horrible joke to tease you? 

Dear, since when is Death on our side?

‘ But, he protected her when I was pregnant..!’

Don’t trust him so easily. Don’t think Death is on your side, he might have saved our daughter, but he didn’t save your friend, didn’t he? Always doubt people’s will.

Your eyes widened as you realized that you saw this spirit, the one who owned Death, almost as a friend. You forget he was a powerful spirit, that he could watch you die without batting an eye… You made a mistake… While you saw him as a friend, Alastor saw him as a transactional tool.

Who was in the right ?

While you worked with spirits, Alastor owned them…

Who was wrong?

“ I won’t hurt you daughter, little doll.”

 You turned your head toward the Baron, septic. Alastor was right, why would the gatekeeper of Death help you? You didn’t do anything to be granted such favors… And yet…

“ Don’t think too hard, I’m just amused by the situation. I don’t remember the last time a child was able to use some of my powers without me being summoned.” The Baron smirked, going closer to your daughter who turned her eyes toward the spirit. “ Now, this little genius should learn how to control her power ! Imagine if she used her power at school, how dangerous… Oh, let’s do that!”

After that conversation, you fell sick for the next few days. Nothing serious of course, nothing worth fussing about. But your daughter and husband weren’t thinking the same thing as you. They demanded that you stay at home and rest. That was why you were in bed, with your daughter coming with a glass of fresh water.

“ Thank you, my cutie pie.” You kissed her forehead which made her beam at you. You were trying to reassure her that you were feeling great, but you did feel faint, and you wanted to vomit most of the time. It seemed like the fire’s accident was still having an effect on your body…

You chuckled when you saw Alice ordered Alastor’s shadow to bring you another glass of water. She sat next to you, hugging Eamon against her little body. Your stare fell on the plushie. You couldn’t help but remember when your parents gifted you with it. It was white as snow, and now he was reddish because of Alastor’s blood because of his father’s beating…

Death and violence were really around your family right…

“ Mommy, I learned something at school! Do you know how to say blood in french?” Alice beamed at you, excited to share her knowledge. “ It’s “ Sang” ! Does that mean that our family name is… related to blood?” She tilted her head, her curious eyes staring at you.

Blood huh..

You observed your daughter, so innocent and yet she bore such a heavy name. She bore your deceased best friend's name, and Alastor’s name, who was tainted with so much violence. You chose to take Alastor’s name, you had the choice, but your daughter… Would she bear it?

“ Alice, are you happy with your name? With Mommy and Dad?” You asked, your voice weak. You were so scared your past would weigh on your daughter because of your decision… Violence, murder, blood… Were you a good mother? Was that all you could give her..? 

“ I love it ! “ She stood up on your bed, jumping on the mattress, being mindful of your body. “ I have the name of Mommy’s best friend! You told me she was like a princess ! She was super funny! And she was very pretty! “ She laughed, clapping her hands together. “ Sanglar is also a good name! It scares my classmate ! But if it means blood, then it means that Mommy and Dad are tied to me forever !” She jumped in your eyes with a big grin. “ We are going to be a family forever !” 

You weren’t aware of the tears in your eyes. You didn’t know you needed to hear such words from your daughter. It was too clever for her age, she wasn’t supposed to answer such things at your question. Shouldn’t children of her age be confused if their mother asked such a question…? Was it normal…?

You chuckled, squeezing your baby in your arms.

Since when were you trying to be normal? You ran after Alastor knowing he wasn't what ‘normal’ was supposed to be. He asked you to marry him just before ending his father. You had your first time just after your first murder, next to a corpse. Your best friend would ask you to kill people for her sake.

Who do you think you were?  Normality isn’t for you anymore. And you never craved it.

You left the bed, with your daughter in your arms and Alastor’s shadow behind you with a big smile. You weren’t feeling sick anymore, and you wanted to see your husband!

You followed Alastor’s shadow, which guided you toward the lake behind the house. You smiled when you saw your husband. Who was doing… What was he doing ..?

“ Ah, there you are. Darling, why don’t you let  Alice down for a bit?”

You tilted your head but did as you were told. Alice ran toward her father who patted her head three times. You walked toward your husband who kissed your forehead. You closed your eyes, feeling your body relaxed to his presence.

Relaxing near a killer… And you wanted to be normal?

“ Today, we’ll start Alice’s training.” Alastor whispered in your eyes, his voice deep and smooth. You couldn’t help but shiver, when was the last time you heard his voice like that…” Now, Alice! Do you want to know my and your mother’s secret?”

“ I already know!” Your daughter claimed which made Alastor raise an eyebrow, smiling down at her. “ Always smile and wear red ! “

You laughed out loud while Alastor chuckled. Is that how Alice saw you? Two people who always smiled and wore red? Funny thought…

“ Not quite, but close enough. I have three rules I have taught your mother, do you want to know them?” Alastor asked and grinned when Alice nodded furiously. “ The first rule..”

You smiled as Alastor taught Alice the rules he had given you when you were kids. You sat down on the grass as Alice repeated the rules then smiled at her father. She was trying so hard to get praises from him, it was adorable. 

“ Now…” Alastor’s eyes turned red. “ Do you see my shadow ?”

“ Shadie? Yes, I see him.” She nodded, waving at the shadow which waved back. You giggled at the shadow’s name, it seemed to like it.

“ Try to create a shield so he can’t touch you.” Alastor said, crossing his arms on his chest. You frowned. wasn’t he going to help her more than just ask her to do something. You stared at your little baby who was so confused… Aah..

You stood up and walked toward your daughter, kneeling next to her.

“ Do you remember what I told you? When you are feeling overwhelmed ?” You waited for her to nod. “ Then, let’s imagine, Shadie..? Shadie was being mean, so you want to be alone a little bit.” You raised your hand in front of you, your daughter mimicked you. “ Now, imagine a shield around you.”

You smiled as Alice closed her eyes, frowning very hard, trying so hard to material a shield but without any success. She opened her eyes and looked at you sadly. You smiled at her, kissing her cheek, whispering sweet reassurance.

“ Can Eamon help me..?”

You tilted your head but nodded. You walked back inside the house, letting Alice with her father. Should you be alarmed she was so attached to this plushie..? You entered the room and took the plushie.

You stared at it, then you hugged it, feeling some relief in your body. Even after all these years, it was still your little protector..? Maybe Alice felt the same way, and that’s why she needed this plushie. She must have felt out of place everywhere she was because of how she was…

You walked back toward your little family but stopped at the scene in front of you.

Alastor had one knee on the floor, behind Alice, and was showing her how to place her hand in front of her. What made you nostalgic was that the gestures he was teaching her, were the first gestures you used to when you first used your power.

Alastor was teaching your daughter with your techniques…

Why were you feeling so emotional..?

You walked toward them with a fond smile. You felt your breath shake as your husband and your daughter lifted their heads to watch you approach. Alice gave you a big smile, while Alastor looked at you with an amused smirk.

Yes, you didn’t care for normality if it was your everyday life, seeing your husband teaching your daughter.

Alice took Eamon in one arm and then raised her little hand in front of her. You took a step back, and so did Alastor, to watch if something happened. She was trying so hard, you really were rooting for her…

Your shadow moved toward Alice and patted her head, trying to encourage her. You wondered how you could help your daughter… How hard could it be to try something you didn’t know existed… How difficult could it be to believe in something you didn’t understand…

“ Darling.”

You turned your eyes toward Alastor who was staring at Alice. You frowned and then looked at your daughter, still shieldless. She had her head down, mostly defeated by her failure and you knew Alastor wouldn’t comfort her… You sighed before walking toward your little baby.

“ It’s okay, baby. Mommy did when she was older, you know?” You smiled, approaching your hand toward her and flinched when you felt how cold her skin was. “ Alice ?”

Your daughter raised her big eyes toward you.

Big purple eyes.

You took a step back, as she tried to grab your hand. You could see she was confused and scared so as soon as you composed yourself, you hugged her.

“ I’m scared… It’s cold… My eyes are like ice..” She mumbled, squeezing Eamon against her.

You kissed her forehead, humming against her, reassuring her like you could. Even if you made a deal with the Baron, you weren’t fully attached to him like you were with Papa Legba, so you didn't really know how Alice was feeling.

The first time you met Legba, you felt hot, warm… When you are using the Baron’s power, you feel cold… Was that how Alice felt?

“ It’s okay, look at mommy..” you whispered and stared into your daughter’s eyes. Her brown honey eyes have been replaced by a vivid purple hue. Even if it was strange, and in a way… sad, it truly meant Alice was attached to Voodoo and Baron Samdi, she was beautiful.

You felt Alastor kneeled next to you, patting his daughter’s head.

“ This world is dangerous, Alice.”

“ Why…?” She whispered, looking at her father.

“ Because people like us exist.” Alastro stated. He tilted his head with an amused smile. “ What do you see? Come on, tell me.”

“ But I’m scared…”

“ Scared? Why would you?  your mother and I, are here? What could happen ?”

You smiled at your daughter who seemed to be reassured by her father’s words. You knew Alastro wasn’t trying to reassure her, he was stating the truth…

Alice began to look around, she even let you go and walked a little further with Alastor's shadow and your own, as her guard. You turned your head toward Alastor.

“ So, what do we do about John?”

After explaining to Alastor everything that happened with John, your husband didn’t say much. You had begged him to share his thoughts because you couldn’t be left in the dark with the recent evenement. His only answer was that he needed time, but he would talk to you soon.

Soon was now.

“ Well, what about him? Don’t you want to kill him dear? Or did you change your judgment because he was nice with you?” He tilted his head toward you with a menacing smile. “ Because he plays the role of the prince, the same prince you used to read when you were younger? Fighting his family for a dame?”

You frowned at this. What was he trying to do ? You didn’t say you wanted John to side with you. You were asking him his opinion.

“ Alastor, what are you talking about..?”

“ Do you really think John is going to betray Trey?”

“ It’s just… I can feel it, Alastor. John doesn’t know about Trey’s sins.” You said, taking his hand in yours.

“ Mnhn… Then, I’ll tell you what I know. John will never stop being in love with you. If you want to use him to bring Trey down, then I’m all ears my dear. But I know you, oh, I know you. I know your deeper fears, your deeper desires…” He leaned toward you and whispered in your ears. “ You want your happy ending from your books.”

You gasped, stepping back. You felt anger inside of you while Alastor was staring at you with a big smile.

“ John isn’t my happy ending!”

“ I know, dear.  But, I feel like you want that fairy tale ending and you know… I can’t give you that… Oh well, I could.” He kissed the back of your hand, staring into your eyes with that obsession you always craved. “ Say it, dear. And I shall be the perfect boring gentleman and give you that happy sappy bland ending.”

You imagined that life for a moment. That tasteless life, where your only problems would be to make sure Alastor would come home to a warm dinner… Long gone would be the excitement to gain new skills, to talk with spirits, to learn things from Papa Legba, to laugh with the Baron, to watch your shadows play together, to watch this bland life where Alice would be worth only as a married woman.

Long gone would be the bloodlust and mostly, the Alastor you loved, you craved, you were crazy about.

“ If I asked for that life, kill me.”

Alastor's eyes widened, his grip on your hand getting tighter. You could see his eyes staring at you, mostly trying to see if you were serious. He leaned toward your face.

“  Really..? Would you let me kill you?” He whispered, his voice shaking with desire. You stared at him, your heart beating faster, excitement pooling inside your belly. You grasped his tie and forced his lips against yours, moaning in relief at the feeling of this desperate, dark and twisted kiss.

“ Yes.”

After this, Alastor began to train Alice every afternoon. Of course you were there to make sure he wasn’t working her too hard. Alice seemed to learn quickly, way too quickly. You were worried, should a child learn so quickly…? But Alastor never asked her to do anything more than use her eyes. She could see things when her eyes were like that, she would point at something near the forest and when you walked over, it would be the corpse of an animal.

You guessed that she could see the spirit of animals, if they recently died. Alastor and you couldn’t be capable of such talents. You would stop her coming toward a decomposed animal, you didn’t want her to see that yet.

But of course, she was still a child with a power too strong for her.

The following nights, Alice would wake up by screaming in fear. Alastor and you would rush inside the room and she would talk about how the dead animals wanted to eat her, or come close to her.  

She would sleep in your bed, almost every night but you could see she was becoming more tired as days passed by. The nightmares were restless, and your little girl was becoming weaker as day went by.

You were at home, baking your daughter’s favorite dessert, as she was at school, when the phone rang. You wiped your head full of flour before answering.

“ Mrs. Sanglar? This is Gwen, Alice’s teacher. I’m calling because Alice fought against one classmate, could you come here around 4pm?”

You looked at Alastor who was leaning on the wall, next to you. You were dumbfounded, Alice fought against someone ? She could be full of herself, like your darling husband, but she wasn’t violent.

Alastor took the phone from your hand, and answered with a smile.

“ We are coming right now.”

As soon as you entered the school, you hasted toward the director’s office. You knocked and entered the room where Alice and another boy were sitting, their head down. Alastor walked toward your daughter and put his hand on her shoulder.

“ Now, what do we have here?”

You kneeled next to your daughter as the director said that he was waiting for the boy’s parents to come. You stroke her cheek with a reassuring smile. 

“ What happened, baby?”

“ I’m so tired mommy… Everything seems too loud… when… When someone touches me… It feels like.. It stings…I don’t want them to be near me… It’s too much..” She mumbled, her eyes becoming watery. You hugged her, carrying her in your arms.  You could see Alastor’s gaze on Alice, was he making sure she was okay..?

“ Little boy, do you want to explain why you fought against a girl?”

“ I’m sorry sir.. I just wanted to play with her… But then, she pushed me so hard without using her hands, I saw it! She was being weird ! Talking alone ! Looking where nobody was there! …She freaks me out…”

You frowned when you heard the boy’s explanation but didn’t do anything more. They were all children, he was just scared of the unknown. You kissed your daughter’s forehead, rocking her against your chest. 

“ May we go? Alice has been having nightmares, which explain why she is so tense and prone to violence. It won’t happen again.” You smiled to the director who didn’t acknowledge you, he turned his face toward your husband. 

“ Sir, I think–”

“ Did you just ignore my wife?”

The temperature dropped, making everyone freeze. You turned your eyes toward your husband who was smiling at the man, teeth bared. The poor man was trembling, shaking his head.

Aahh.. How long since someone was scared of him. How long since you had seen your husband as the predator he was…

You smiled pretty behind him, looking at the director who was trying to apologize to you, not that you cared anyway. Alastor whispered something in his ear before leaning back. You wished the wind would have brought you the sentence Alastor said that made the poor man pale so quickly.

“ Now, since everything is settled, we might go on our merry way. Have a nice day, gentlemen !”

Alastor guided toward the exit before driving you back home. Alice was in your arms.

“ Am I in trouble..?”

“ Why would you be?” Alastor asked, with an amused smile.

“ I… I pushed the boy… I did what mommy told me when I’m feeling overw…ower…”

“ Overwhelmed?”

“ Yes, that.” She said.

Alastor just snickered at that but didn’t ask for more. You hugged your daughter during the drive home, letting her fall asleep against your chest.

Once you were home, you put her in your bed with Eamon, knowing she would feel better if she saw the plushie by her side. You walked down the stare and freezed. Alastor was in his office, you could feel him.

And yet, you felt like you were being watched.

Trey..? No, it wasn’t the same feeling..

You closed your eyes and sat on the sofa. You concentrate on your yourself and feel your soul coming out of your body.  As soon as you did it, you could hear Alastor coming into the living room, sitting next to you, making sure your body wouldn’t hurt itself.

“ Dear, I guessed you felt something ?” He watched toward your direction without seeing you.

You flew around the house, trying to find the subject of your screaming instinct.

Maybe you were just being paranoid? 

You sighed, ready to go back to your body but stopped when you felt something in front of you. You flew toward the front door and looked around it. Nothing… Were you being paranoid?

Your eyes widened when you saw it and then everything scattered.

Alice woke up screaming while you were being tugged back in your body. Alastor took your face between his hands, his gaze serious.

“ What did you see?”

You were breathing hard, not being able to speak. You shook your head and pointed toward the door before running toward your bedroom where Alice was crying, squeezing Eamon against her. You hugged her hard, against you. Could she feel your inner turmoil after what you saw?

Were you even sure you saw it ?

You calmed Alice down before turning your head toward Alastor who came toward you with a sinister look even though his smile was still present. You stared at him, hiding Alice’s face against your chest.

“ Did you find it ?”

Alastor nodded before walking toward you, opening his palm.

Inside your husband’s hand was an eye. A human eye.

“ I think we know who this belongs to.” He whispered. 

Even if he was calm, you knew he was shaken. His gaze wasn’t leaving the eye. You knew who it belonged to, and you knew he did too. This eye he had seen since he was a child, the eye of the only man who tortured him all his childhood.

“ Your father’s.” You whispered.

He only nodded, before sighing. He shook his head, mumbling without you understanding anything.

You looked at Alice who calmed down a little. 

“ What did you dream about my baby?” You tried to smile at her, even if she had nightmares, sometimes it would be so bizarre that it would made you laugh and you would create a whole funny story about it.

“ A man was staring at me… With one eye missing.”

Alastor’s head snapped toward Alice while you froze, feeling a shiver in your whole body. He kneeled in front of her, his gaze fixated on her expression.

“ What did he look like?”

“ I don’t know… I didn’t want to watch him..?” She sniffed.

You observed Alastor’s face, he couldn’t hide how affected he was by this news. You put your hand on his shoulder with a reassuring smile.

“ Alastor… She dreamed of him. Don’t you remember, sometimes, Papa Legba would take my soul to show me something important ? Maybe the Baron did the same thing.” You said, with a soft smile even if you were shaken by this revelation. Legba always told you he would use your dream to give you information, did Baron Samedi do the same thing?

“ Yes… Maybe she was being warned, just like you used to.” He sighed, his hand going through his hair. “ Does that mean someone has already found my father’s corpse?”

In the deafening silence, you could only hear Alice's little voice.

“ I wasn't sleeping.”

Tag List: @lukneetoonz @martinys-world @littlepoetnova @sirens-and-moonflowers @eris-norwega @tiredflame132 @mo-0-o @vvollerie @sodavizz @boogiemansbitch @tessemerick @slytherin4ever @kammsinn @alastorssimp @t0xic1vi @diamond-almond @fangirlbitch02 @saccharine-nectarine @thenorthnightingale @bibliophile-yomna @itzjustj-1000 @mothraantics @yourdoorisunlocked @phamtasic @karmakillz @holographicage @sarcastic-sourwolf @akuraluna2468 @everwolf-20 @thesunandmoons-blog @songbrita @noraunor @fandomsbookclub @hokkaido97 @catticora @gasiacos @charlottemorningstarsdarling @nekee-lilac02 @thevisforveronica @ellie0o0 @holymusicalmothman @ustulia

[razzdazzledoo]

How do you feel about people roleplaying as MX?

Alright everyone, sit down. I've been waiting for this moment.

Welcome to

RAZZDAZZLEDOO'S QUICK GUIDE TO WRITING MX!!

For those who wanna be in-line with the character while still having the freedom of not being canon.

So first things first, let's get the ground basis with MX.

MX does what he does for the reactions it brings, that kinda stuff is his entertainment. So he plans ahead, hoping to find the best snowball effect for the strongest look of terror on people's faces.

Though he doesn't plan THAT much, he gets a ground base and then improvises the rest of it so it's hard to plan ahead against him.

He's also not meant to be intimidating all the time either, his playmates will get bored if it's the same song and dance so he plays into other personalities to throw them off.

When their guard's down? He strikes while the iron's hot. And that makes them terrified even more.

Second, how he interacts with other people.

It ultimately depends on what the other person's like. Are they exactly like him? Do they have the potential to be? Or are they like Lucas where they clearly fear him?

Those kinda aspects will play into the chemistry MX can have with a person. He's best friends with Executable M and Mr. Virtual for a reason, they're just like him in the sense of 'tormenting for their own entertainment' along with whatever goals they have.

If they show fear, he'll play into it. He'll show them reasons to fear him, and then the next moment deceive them into believing there's some good in his heart. Only to then tear down those chances, and watch them crumble.

"What if I wanna ship my MX roleplay with someone?"

You have the freedom to do that, don't let me restrict you from having fun. I'll provide how he would, in-character, respond to romance. But I wanna get some rules down first.

Do not be sexual with him. That kinda shit makes me incredibly uncomfortable, not to mention I don't see him ever showing interest to the thought.

Do not ship him in problematic scenarios. This can include: People in the victim role, like MX took their soul and put them in a vessel; Characters who are directly stated to be minors; And characters that use Luigi's likeness. I outright forbid this and will not hesitate to block you if I see it.

Build up to it. MX obviously isn't going to know what the hell a "relationship" is, he's never entertained the idea and so it's going to take some time for him to learn. He's gonna have to figure out why he feels the way he does around that specific person, whether with their guidance or not.

He knows that humans can feel love, and how they respond to it, since he's been around since the universe's creation; but he personally doesn't know much on the subject.

When he realizes he's actually capable of love, he's not gonna know how to respond to it. He might even outright avoid the person he feels those emotions to since he has not an iota of knowledge with relationships.

If your interpretation of MX has an actual friendship with other muses, and he gets along greatly, he might go to them about it as a show of trust and they can help him figure it out.

Otherwise, he'd try and leave "gifts" for his special someone. Like a cat bringing you a dead bird, for comparison. Most of his gifts are eldritch abominations though, like a smaller version of one of his clouds in his world as an example.

On the other hand, if his special someone went to him first about pursuing a relationship and he does feel love towards them as well; He'd go along with it, essentially being a big giant teddy bear for them if he thinks it'd be funny enough.

If someone tries to pursue a relationship with him and he feels no attraction, he just kinda messes with them about it. Poking fun that they'd fall in love with a monster like him, who'd never love them back.

There's no canon MX ship, I just personally lean more towards Powerforest since it's a comfort ship of mine.

"What are some other tips?"

If your interpretation of MX can frown, make it have impact. That brute smiles all the time, regardless of the situation; So if he frowns, that's gonna have to mean something.

Canonically if MX frowns, he's locked in. He's not gonna waste time playing around, he wants you DEAD.

Don't be afraid to be silly sometimes.

It'd get awful boring real quick if MX was one-dimensional in a roleplay scenario, having something like that can give him way more depth and I encourage it.

You don't need to follow this guide exactly, but please still be respectful of the boundaries I expressed in here.

This is not meant to be a rulebook on how to write MX, you still have the freedom to write him how you feel most comfortable with writing him. This is just how I go about writing the character in my own spaces.