#i had to succumb to the worms

[thebigshotman]

[[Succumb to the Worm]]

[yourdarkcherry]

Is it casual now?// Ellie Williams x fem!reader

summary: you and Ellie had a “casual” thing until she decided to ghost you and replace you. your friends decide that the best way to get over her is to get under another woman.

warnings: jealous ellie, abby is the revenge, reader is barely surviving her first wlw heartbreak, she/her for reader.

a/n: if u cant tell im obsessed with chappell roan.

It was your fault. Sleeping with Ellie Willaims was your fault. 

Ellie was notoriously known as the toxic one, and you knew that. But you were like a moth drawn to a flame, you smiled at her when your eyes met hers too many times at the party. You allowed her to flirt with you, and encouraged her to make out with you at the backseat of the Uber. 

She told you she liked you, and that you were the sexiest girl she was with, but it was all casual and no attachments, it was just having fun.

You knew that deep in your heart, and you liked it because you weren’t looking for anything serious and simply liked the sex and the flirting without any attachment. You liked being able to sleep with anyone you wanted, you liked being able to flirt with anyone, no one blowing up your phone and no one requiring your time and care.

You liked it all.

Until Ellie wormed her way to your heart. It was truly your fault, all of your friends told you that a ‘Casual’ thing with Ellie was a recipe for disaster. 

You didn’t care, you were happy to be the one occupying most of her time, you were simply happy to be the one that got to meet her dad or Joel as she liked to call him, you were ecstatic being the only one to know how much of a big nerd she really is, to be the one to hear her sing, to be the only one that knows how to make her laugh when she’s sad.

That is all until she decided to replace you.

The sight of Ellie with another girl, the two of them were on the couch, the girl sat on Ellie’s lap and giggling into her neck as Ellie whispered things you never wanted to hear in her ear. Just seeing them like that made your eyes burn, and your breathing turned short and despite wanting to peel away your stare from them.

You couldn’t.

Your eyes were glued to them, your vision turning blurry by the second and your stomach turning sick, you didn’t drink anything at this party so you cannot blame it on the drinks no matter how much you wanted to.

In your trance at them, Ellie turned to stare at you—must’ve felt your burning look. You wanted her to push the girl away, to stand up and walk to you and lie to you that it’s not what you think it is. You wished for her to tell you any lie, to pretend like she wanted you just as you wanted her.

You would’ve believed it all, you would have succumbed to her and allowed her to take you to her bed and you would’ve allowed her back into your heart.

But none of your wishes came true. While maintaining eye contact with you, Ellie pulled the girl closer to her.You could feel the bile rising to your throat, and you ran outside the house party and threw up into one of the bushes.

Some part of you is grateful that your wishes didn’t come true, that the next day you didn’t wake up naked in Ellie’s bed. Because it makes hating her a lot easier. 

“It’s a good thing you two ended that weird casual thing you had,” Leah told you on the way to the cafeteria after class. “I don’t know about you, but if the person I was fucking with no strings attached made me meet their parents, I’d run.” You sigh and roll your eyes at her words.

“It was never casual, maybe at the beginning but it quickly escalated to something very codependent. I’m glad it ended, though.” She added, taking the booth seat. 

“Okay, can we stop airing out my dirty laundry for once? I was wrong and you were right, is that what you wanna hear?” you scoff at Leah. The woman grins and nods, “that’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

You sigh for the millionth time on this day. 

“I’m glad you admitted that I’m right, because from now on you’re going to do exactly what I tell you to do.” Leah said, then her eyes falling to something behind you and waving. Before you could look over your shoulder to what she’s looking at, or more rightfully, who she’s looking at, she holds your arm and stops you.

“You’re going to flirt hard with Abby Anderson, and you’re going to dress as a slutty cop when you go to the party this weekend with Abby.”

You open your mouth to ask who the hell is Abby Anderson and why does Leah think she can boss you around like that, but she cuts you as she speaks urgently. “You are a whore, act like it.” before you get a chance to feel offended at her words, you hear Jordan’s voice as he greets, “hi babe”

He rounds the table to sit at the booth, he presses a kiss to Leah’s forehead. She grins into it, and from the corner of your eyes you see a new figure, you turn to look at a tall blonde woman. She pulls out a seat and then turns to look at you when she notices your look.

“Hi, I’m Abby, Jordan’s friend.” You blink, taking in the sight of the tall, blonde woman who just introduced herself as Abby. Her gaze is steady and confident, her smile is charming and polite.

“Nice to meet you, I’m (Y/N)” you reply, forcing a smile as you try to mask your confusion. Leah’s instructions echo in your mind, and you're not sure how to react. Who is this Abby Anderson, and why does Leah seem so intent on orchestrating some kind of encounter between you and her?

Leah’s so obvious as she says with a knowing look directed to you, “(Y/N), this is Abby Anderson,” 

“Hi Abby, Leah tells me a lot about you.” you lie. 

Abby chuckles, and nods, “she told me about you too. She has a knack for thinking all the lesbians on campus know each other.”

As you burst out in laughter at Abby’s comment, Leah feigns innocence as she asks, “y’all don’t? I know all the bisexuals on campus.”

Jordan leans back, his arm draped casually over the back of the booth, watching the interaction with a keen interest. "So, you guys ready for the party this weekend?" he asks.

Leah comments, throwing you another look as she said, “(Y/N)’s been looking forward to it,” she says, shooting a grin at Abby. “She never attended a frat halloween party.”

Abby nods, and looks at you, “It’s pretty fun, any thoughts for a costume?” Her voice is smooth, and it grounds you even when you glance at Leah that’s glaring at you. 

“Uh…” you hesitate, glancing again at Leah that kicks your leg underneath the table. You finally answer, “uhm…I’m going as a cop.”

“No way! I’m going as a prisoner.” Abby said with pure surprise, and when your gaze falls at Leah and Jordan that are pretending to not have known. You also stammer as you try to lie, “wow, I had no idea!”

“What a coincidence, truly.” Leah says.

“You two should go together.” Jordan comments, and Leah claps as she affirms, “oh yes that’s such a good idea! That way you two won’t look like single losers, no offense.”

“None taken.” Abby says with an amused grin, then she tilts her head to you and asks, “so, what do you say?”

“Sure.” You nod.

As the night of the party approaches, your nerves begin to bubble up, and it's not just because of the skimpy costume Leah convinced you to wear. The real source of your anxiety is the possibility of running into Ellie Williams. 

She attended all the parties, she never missed one. You on the other hand stopped attending them after the one you saw her at weeks before with that other girl in her lap. After that, you swore to never see her again. Which was easy, considering you had memorized her schedule like the back of your hand. 

The idea of seeing her at the party, mingling with others and having fun, twists your stomach into knots.

“When’s Abby picking you up?” Leah asks, her voice coming out of the speaker of your phone.

You stand in front of the mirror, adjusting the police costume's accessories for the umpteenth time, trying to focus on anything other than the potential encounter. “In five minutes, you on the way the party?” 

“Yeah, Jordan is in the car with me.” She answers. 

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “Cool, I’ll see you guys there,” you say, forcing a smile that Leah can’t see.

“Hey, you'll be fine," Leah reassures, her tone softening. "Remember, this party is about you having fun and maybe getting to know Abby better. Don't worry about Ellie. If she shows up, just ignore her. You've got this."

You nod, even though she can't see you, and glance at the clock. Time seems to drag and race simultaneously, your thoughts racing ahead to every possible scenario that could unfold at the party. The memory of seeing Ellie with another girl, looking so carefree and happy, still stings. It was that moment that made you realize it was time to let go.

A knock on your door startles you out of your reverie. You quickly grab your phone, ending the call with Leah. "Abby's here. I'll catch you later."

"Have fun, (Y/N)!" Leah calls out before you hang up. You take one last look in the mirror, smoothing down your costume and taking a deep breath.

When you open the door, Abby stands there, a grin on her face. She's in her prisoner costume, complete with fake tattoos on her arms. She was wearing a short sleeved orange button down, the first five buttons left open and giving you a good look into her chest. “Hey, Officer,” she jokes lightly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Please don’t arrest me just yet, I have a party to attend.”

You laugh, though it’s tinged with nervousness. “I’ll let you off the hook just this time.” you reply, stepping out and closing the door behind you. 

The drive to the party is filled with light chatter, Abby doing most of the talking. She seems at ease, excited for the night ahead, and her energy is contagious. You try to focus on her words, on the fun you're supposed to be having, but a part of you can't stop thinking about Ellie.

It’s truly the pinnacle of loser behavior as your friends always tell you, but you can’t help it. She plagues your mind, and everything about her haunts you.

As you arrive at the party, the music and laughter spilling out from the house only amplify your anxiety.You and Abby climb the steps leading up to the door, and enter through the wide door. Your eyes scan through the dim lit room with the red and green lights. The music pulses through the room, a steady beat that seems to synchronize with the thrumming in your chest. You scan the room, your eyes darting from group to group, hoping to spot familiar faces—or perhaps to avoid one in particular.

"Wow, it's packed," Abby comments, leaning in close to be heard over the music. Her presence is comforting, a steady anchor in the sea of partygoers.

You nod, your eyes still searching the room. Suddenly, you spot Nora and Mel in one of the corners, engaged in an animated conversation. They're dressed up too, Nora as a pirate with a makeshift sword at her side and Mel as a witch, complete with a pointed hat and a fake broomstick.

A wave of relief washes over you at the sight of your friends. You nudge Abby and point in their direction. "There are Nora and Mel," you say, a genuine smile breaking through your earlier anxiety.

Abby smiles back, nodding. "Let's go say hi."

As you and Abby approach Nora and Mel, their faces light up with recognition. Nora waves excitedly. "Hey, Abby! (Y/N)! Over here!"

Mel, grins widely, “there you two are! We were wondering when you'd show up." She gives you both a quick hug. "And look at you, Abby! Going all out with the prisoner theme, huh?" Nora hands you a drink that you down, hoping it will calm down your nerves.

Abby laughs, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Thanks” she says as she’s glancing at you, "and (Y/N) makes a pretty convincing cop, don't you think?"

Nora nods enthusiastically. "Absolutely! You two look great. Perfect match for the night." She takes the empty cup from you and places it somewhere else. Eager to find another drink, you take the red cup from Mel’s hands and down it too.

A new song starts playing, and as you recognize the song from the beginning of it. Nora’s eyes widen and she pushes you and Abby to the direction of the dance floor, “this is (Y/N)’s favorite song! You two should dance together!”

It doesn’t take you long to figure out that Leah most likely roped Nora into it too. The mission of getting you to get laid by someone new to get over your weird feelings for Ellie.

It seems like your friends are determined to push you out of your comfort zone tonight. Abby, ever the good sport, grins and shrugs. "Well, if it's your favorite song, we have to dance," she says, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Caught in a case of mild embarrassment, you let yourself be led to the dance floor. When you reach there, you kick out all the embarrassment out of your head, and then turn around as you bring Abby’s hands to rest on your waist from the back.

It’s a dangerous game you’re playing, but if your friends are so eager for you to sleep with Abby, you might as well do that. It’s probably the tell-tale signs of you being tipsy but the idea of making out with Abby seems like a good idea right now. You like her just enough, and she seems to like you too.

With that, you start grinding your ass on her. Abby leans in close, her breath warm against your ear. "You're a pretty good dancer," she says and you can hear her teasing grin. 

You smile back, feeling a flush of warmth to your cheeks and neck as one of her hands on your waist roams underneath your tits.

“Do you like my costume?” you ask, your hand resting on her own and you tilt your head to the side to allow her to press her face to your neck. She breathes in your perfume and whispers back, “I love it.”

You’re about to whisper the same line you used on Ellie when she saw you wearing that tiny scarlet dress she likes in that first party you met her. I wore it just so you’d sleep with me. But your eyes fall on the very same Ellie Williams.

Standing right to the side, and glaring at you like you were the one that cursed her with seven years of bad luck. Her piercing gaze sends a chill down your spine, and any playful mood you had vanishes instantly. The weight of her stare is too much, and instinctively, you pull back from Abby, the space between you widening in an instant.

Abby, sensing the shift, looks at you with concern, “something wrong?”

“I—I need to go to the bathroom.” you lie, and then take unbalanced steps towards the stairs to use the upstairs bathroom. Your mind races, unsure of what to do next. The party, the music, and the laughter all fade into the background as you enter the toilet.

You allow the cold water to sting your hands as you can’t really wash your face. 

But before you can fully collect your thoughts, the door swings open, and Ellie steps in, closing it behind her with a quiet click. The small space suddenly feels even smaller, the air charged with the unresolved tension between you.

Ellie’s eyes are a mix of emotions—anger, hurt, and something else you can’t quite place. She takes a step closer, her jaw set. “What the hell was that?” she asks, her voice low but intense.

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of her gaze. You rest your hands on the sink as you scoff, “why do you care?” then you push your weight back while turning around to face her, “you moved on, and I’m trying to move on.”

“Is that what it was? Moving on?”

You hesitate, the words sticking in your throat. You want to say yes, to tell her that you’re over her, but the truth is, you’re not sure. Seeing her now, the intensity of your feelings crashes over you like a wave, and you realize that moving on is much harder than you thought it would be.

“Actually, it’s not moving on. We were never something, it was never that deep between us.” You say.

You feel your heartbeat accelerating as you stare at her, before you stepped closer to the door and invade her personal space, “baby, no attachment.” you use the same words she told you that last night you slept with her.

Without waiting for her reaction, you turn and push open the bathroom door. You walk out, the noise of the party flooding back in, a stark contrast to the tense silence of the small room. As you step into the hallway, your heart races, the adrenaline from the confrontation making your pulse quicken.

Forcing yourself to keep moving, and trying to put as much distance between yourself and Ellie as possible. You promise yourself that night that you won’t allow her to take up one thought of your mind.

[milkbobatyun]

wake up, please

pairing: diluc x fem!reader

genre: angstober, events

summary: an argument causes you to leave the safety of the ragnvindr manor at night, would diluc ever get to hear your voice, ever see you open your eyes again?

word count: 883

a/n: idk, i thought this would fit diluc kinda well, sorry for re-traumatising this already traumatised boi (◞‸◟；)

the thick silence crackled with anger, your fists clenched, heart pounding in your chest. the tranquility of the winery had been shattered by your arguing with diluc. you wouldn’t call yourself a jealous woman, but seeing another woman drape herself over diluc had you seething. his lack of protest and unwillingness to push her away was enough to make your blood boil.

with a frustrated sigh, you threw open the study door, stalking down the hallway and slamming the front door as you left. the resounding echo was loud enough to make diluc wince from the study, guilt settling deep in his chest.

perhaps you were being foolish, going out into the night with only a thin layer of clothing and only a small dagger tucked at your side. but your rationality was clouded with frustration, danger the last thing on your mind. the weak moonlight barely illuminated the path before you, but you didn’t care, you needed space, to breathe.

but as that principle goes, you attract what you fear.

hilichurls. their grunts echoing in the quiet night as they had you surrounded, their bats dancing with flames and swinging as they ran towards you. you summoned your dagger, dodging the first attack and swining with a desperate arc, the heat of the wave dancing across your skin, teasing you with dancer.

you were outnumbered and unprepared, but you fought, adrenaline driving you forwards. they were weaker than they looked, but your body had taken a toll. with your clothing ripped and torn in some places, you stumbled home, a deep cut on your forehead the main source of pain, though the pain in your head was a dull roar compared to the turmoil in your heart.

the foyer was illuminated brightly with candlelights, though it remained quiet. with a clatter, you discarded your shoes at the door, head pounding with every step and fatigue seeping into your bones. the familiar scent of old wood and wine filled your senses as you staggered into the nearest armchair, its softness cradling your aching body as you collapsed into the cushions.

with a sigh, you succumbed to the darkness crawling at the edge of your vision.

diluc sat at his study table, trying to complete the paperwork that had been piling on top. his eyes scanned across the same line time and time again. his thoughts, wouldn’t allow him to concentrate, worrying about your safety. in the vast mansion, every creak of the floorboards, every step of the servants amplified the tension in his chest, his ears straining to hear something.

when he heard the muffled thud of shoes against the hardwood floor, he sprung up from his chair, his papers forgotten. diluc threw open his study door, racing down the hallway. his sharp eyes caught sight of the droplets of blood on the floor, his stomach dropping, icy dread chilling his veins as he ran towards you.

your slumped figure lay in the armchair, the shallow rise and fall of your chest a sign of life. the blood oozed from your forehead, dripping down in streams. diluc’s hands trembled as he reached towards you, ripping a strip of his shirt to press against your wound.

“adele!” diluc’s voice yelled out, raw with fear and desperation. “adele, go fetch a doctor! now!”

the blood soaked through the snow white strip immediately, the warmth coating his hands. his heart pounded in his chest as he applied more pressure on your wound, willing the bleeding to stop.

the medic arrived, treating your wounds with practiced hands, his face grim. diluc’s hawk eyes watched every movement, worry worming away in his stomach.

“young master,” the doctor began tentatively, eyes glued to the floor. “the lady may be asleep for a few days, no need to worry of course, but i am just informing you that she most likely won’t wake up today.”

“for her comfort, i suggest moving her to her bed.” the doctor continued, giving his instructions while he cleaned and packed away the bloody medical instruments.

diluc’s breath caught, swallowing thickly. his hands were still sticky from your blood, the heavy silence weighing down on his chest.

“thank you,” diluc whispered, his voice hoarse. the doctor’s words echoed in his mind. with gentle hands, diluc cradled your sleeping form in his arms, pace steady as he walked towards your room.

adele scurried ahead, laying out a change of clothes and preparing the bed. diluc softly set you down, placing your head on the pillow, leaving the room to wash his hands and allow adele to change your clothes with privacy, red hot embarrassment dusting his ears. 

quietly, diluc brought over a chair, sitting down next to your bed, hand hesitantly hovering above yours, before finally settling it on your cold skin. the sight of your head, swathed in the white bandages, tugged at his heartstrings. it was his actions, his words that had caused this. the burden of guilt settled on his shoulders.

“im sorry,” his whisper of apology fell from his lips as he sat next to you, the moonlight filtering through the gap of the closed curtains. underneath the milky light of the moon, diluc sat, a quiet vigil of guilt, praying for your forgiveness when you wake.

if you would ever wake.

taglist (open): @yeonjunsfox

∧,,,∧ ( ̳• · • ̳)  © curated with love by milkbobayun 2024 / づ ♡

[wosoragebaiter69]

you are broken on the floor

alexia putellas x keeper!reader

overview: goalkeeping means sacrificing your body, how far would you go?

A/N: i feel rlly sad so i got the discord to come up with ideas (thanks @totaly-obsessed + @alotofpockets)

TW: Blood, Severe Injury, Brutal Angst

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ever since a child, you loved the feeling of saving footballs. If any of the teams you were on needed someone in goals you'd be the first the volunteer, along the way you actually got good at it and eventually signed with Barcelona in 2021, making good friends along the way.

Along with joining Barça, it came with getting a girlfriend. Who was the best person you'd ever had in your life romantically.

Being a keeper in the best club would always mean injuries, trying to keep a clean sheet like any defensive player wants.

Sometimes though, injuries are worse. Life threatening in some cases, career ending in others. It's something no player even wishes upon their most rivalled team.

You just had to be unlucky didn't you?

Barcelona were comfortably winning against Frankfurt 3-0, when a gap in defense allows a German player to make their strike. You fall back onto the line hoping the punch the ball away.

Seems like life has other plans.

The player shoots left, you dive left and push the ball away. However with being airborne, you can’t stop. Your body crashes into the post with a loud thud.

The stadium goes quiet, your screams and cries horrific. Your body looks… wrong.

Your collarbone isn’t straight, it’s indescribable. Bones are poking out. There’s blood running down your face where your head has cracked open after hitting the post.

It’s sickening to watch.

Players immediately rush over, forming a circle around you as to not show a fellow player in such vulnerable state.

Alexia is by your side trying to comfort you, trying to keep you still. Seeing you in this much pain makes her heart ache. If she could take it all, she would.

Paramedics are by your side instantly as the circle of players back up to give them space to work, Alexia sits helplessly watching you worm in pain.

After quick testing to make sure you were still alive and conscious, they get you on the stretcher. Which includes more screaming, and more pain.

Alexia watches as you get taken off the field in a hurry, fans of both teams clap and give you a standing ovation.

“Alexia, she’s strong. Let’s finish and win this game for her yeah?” Mapi pats her best friends back, also devastated at the turn on events.

“Ye- yeah.” The captains broken voice says.

- - - - -

As the rest of the minutes in the game are being played, you’re fighting for your life in the back of an ambulance.

The pain getting unbearable, you find yourself slowly slipping in and out of consciousness. Paramedics are doing things around you, but your eyes are too glossy to really tell. Your mind is also too fuzzy to think straight.

There is one thing you want, Ale. But, with everything? You wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve ruined some of your vocal cords from screaming so loud.

Soon enough, you succumb to the darkness. Letting it engulf you to a place less ridden in pain and chaos.

- - - - -

The game is over, an unspoken heaviness in the air surrounding both teams. There is little interaction with fans, whom luckily understand the pain the players must be feeling at the time.

Alexia, Mapi and Ingrid get in the Norwegian’s car and drive straight to the hospital where the medical team said you were going to.

When arriving, Ingrid drops Alexia and Mapi before parking, understanding they need each other. You were important to everyone, but Mapi was like your sister and Ale was obviously your girlfriend.

They rush inside, talking quickly to the nurse at reception who gives them sorry smiles, updating them all that she could. Which was that you were alive and in emergency surgery.

They don’t argue, it’s pointless. So they sit down on uncomfortable plastic chairs, playing a waiting game until you were coherent and safe.

- - - - -

4 hours and many freak out sessions later, a doctor walks over to the three girls explaining the situation you’re in.

“It’s a grade 2 concussion to her head, in cases like these there is chance for memory loss. I believe she has all her memory, we were talking about different things before I came here. It’s a high possibility that she has no memories from the accident though.” He pauses before continuing.

“She experienced a dislocated collarbone. We’ve put it back in its original place, recovery could take 1 year and she might never be to the level she was at currently again. We had to do work on surrounding ligaments which makes the recovery time longer.” The girls take in the information.

“Have you told her she won’t play for a while?” Ingrid asks the question on everyone’s mind.

“I did, she was upset in her own right. If that is all your questions, she has her own room. I believe you all know concussion protocol?” They nod.

“Ok, room 3146. If you need anything at all just shout.”

“Gracias, for everything you’ve done.” The doctor smiles at Alexia.

“No problem.”

- - - - -

When reaching the room, the 3 Barça players see your state, a gauze wrapped around your head and a large cast across your torso, restricting movement.

“Amor?” Alexia asks cautiously.

“Hi Ale.” You look at the other two. “Mapi, Ingrid, nice to see you.”

Alexia sits by the chair on the side of your bed, looking up with teary eyes.

“Please, please don’t ever do that again.” She sobs, cradling your face softly. “I can’t- I can’t lose you.”

“Ale, you’ve got me. I’m right here, please don’t cry amor. Por favor.” You look over to the other two in the room, smiling softly.

She takes a couple minutes to settle down and finally talk.

“Have you heard about your recovery?”

“Sí” You watch her sigh, tracing patterns over your hand.

“Lo siento, but I’ll be with you the whole way ok? I promise.” She says without an inch of hesitation in her voice.

“Te amo mucho Ale. That means so much more than you could ever know.” She responds by leaving a lingering kiss against your hand.

“I’m glad you’re ok. Had as all worried.” Ingrid smiles lightly.

“Yeah.. I don’t remember much about what happened. I might later on but for now I’m content without the memories.” She laughs.

“Well, all of the culers and people at Barça wish you a safe and great recovery. Even if the doctor hasn’t said it, you’ll come back stronger I know it.”

“Thanks Maps, I think I stay in the hospital for a few more days then I’m clear to go home. I have to wear this for like 6 weeks then start the strengthening physio whatever.”

“Ah, can’t wait to see you on the pitch again then amiga. Well, Ingrid and I will leave you and Ale to talk on your own. If you ever need funny company instead of serious company I am always here.” You hold onto your laugh smirking.

“Alright León, keep it moving.” You joke back and watch the couple leave.

You think back to what recovery is going to be like. A very long journey. It seems your girlfriend notices your thoughts.

“Shh, you’ll be fine and as Mapi said you’ll come back better.”

“Thanks Ale.” She leans over and presses a kiss to your lips softly.

- - - - -

The next few weeks are tough, you feel as though you’re useless. Alexia has all this stuff on her plate already and you’re just another one. However she is always quick to shut those thoughts down. No matter how moody, or how angry you got at her. She stayed, just like she promised she would.

Who knows what the future holds, maybe something, maybe nothing. What does matter though? Is who you go there with. For you it’s Ale. It will always be Alexia.

—————————————————————————

PART 2 - here

also i did say i was sick now i’m feeling better.. physically (not mentally since i just wrote this fic)

[azzibuckets]

now that we don’t talk part 1 [paige bueckers]

paige bueckers x fem!reader

summary: you and paige break up and neither of you know how to move on properly with your life

a/n: decided to go for some angst again…didn’t really have an aim or a direction when writing this so not sure if i should turn this into a series or not ? lmk what yall think

word count: 1.5k

masterlist | next

The First Week

In the first week, Paige had fallen into her daily routine. Her moments of forgetfulness were instinctual; she’d laid a dollop of minty Crest toothpaste on her blue toothbrush before doing the same thing to your red one, leaving it hanging over the edge of the counter.

The first time she did it, she’d hadn’t even noticed. It was only when she’d turned her mouth to catch the water under the faucet that she’d spotted your toothbrush that she’d set up, ready with Crest, as if you’d pop in any moment to stick it in your mouth and start scrubbing. Paige had almost choked on the water she’d been gurgling, grief worming its way up her throat and making it hard to breathe.

Heaving, she’d stood over the sink, hand gripping both sides of the counter to support herself until her knuckles turned white. It took all her strength not to buckle over from the precipitous wave of agony that had collided into her with gut-wrenching speed.

But for some reason, Paige had stuck your toothbrush under the stream of water then placed it carefully back in its cup. And so she’d made the same mistake the day after. This time, when she realized what she’d done, it wasn’t the weight of sadness that compressed her lungs, but a brewing storm of fury. Her vision had gone red, and she’d grabbed the toothbrush and hurled it against the wall as hard as she could, with a strength that she didn’t even know that she’d still had. And this time, when Paige stared at the toothpaste dripping slowly down the wall, mocking her as it made a mess on the floor, the counter couldn’t save her. She’d succumbed to the force of her fury dragging her down, and had crumpled to the floor, sobs racking her body.

The First Month

Your room was dark, in almost sub-freezing temperatures with the windows wide open to welcome in the frosty, bone-chilling winter air that Connecticut was known for. The only light in the room came from the dim glow of your laptop screen, opened live to the UConn women’s basketball game playing live on ESPN.

At first, you’d attempted to be nonchalant whenever Paige sunk yet another basket with ease, making the crowd and commentators going feral as she celebrated with her signature moves. But as the game between UConn and Stanford got closer and closer, you couldn’t help but smile when Paige crossed over her defense, sending them flying to the floor and leaving her wide open to score yet another 3. It reminded you all too well of the Paige you’d met and fallen in love with, whose confidence on the court had made you start viewing her as more than just your teammate.

But any trace of smile on your face quickly vanished once you watched Paige’s post-game interview during the livestream. “You’ve had quite a run this season despite being out for most of your sophomore and junior year due to injury. Who would you like to thank for your unpredented comeback?”

“I’d like to thank God. He’s been with me through everything, given me trials to test my resilience. In fact, he’s made me stronger than ever.” Paige had paused. You’d recognized her hesitance; the way she nibbled her bottom lip, her mouth half open as she debated a response, the uncertainty in her eyes as they flickered. But she seemed to recover from any reluctance, and what she said next made your heart drop. “I’d also like to thank my girlfriend, Leslie.” She motioned to someone off camera, and soon the frame was filled with tousled brown hair and soft green eyes.

Paige pulled her in close, and your world spun as you watched Paige, your Paige, press her lips against the brunette. Your hands had reached up to tear your headphones off your head, unable to further listen to the claps and hoots of the crowd along with the cooing of the commentators without feeling the need to throw up. But before you could, Paige had started speaking again. Your hands froze. You hated yourself for it, but you had to listen.

“She’s been with me through everything, from freshman year to now. She was my number one supporter when I got injured.” She wrapped her arm around Leslie’s waist, staring intently at the camera, and never before had you been this sickened staring at the blue eyes you’d once adored, could’ve spent hours getting lost in. “But even outside of my injury, Les has been on my side. Especially with all the immature drama that happened on the court last year, she was really a clear voice in all of that. So I’m pretty grateful for her.”

Leslie’s mouth split into a grin, and she turned to pull Paige in for another kiss, and that was when you slammed your laptop so hard that when you opened it the next morning, you were surprised to see that the screen hadn’t shattered.

You were not someone who cried. Your family members, your friends, Paige could all attest to that. But the torment that was clawing its way through your body, threatening to suffocate you, finally exploded. Tears had surged from your eyes, seemingly never ending, and you’d cried so much that night that it suddenly made sense why you’d almost never cried before; it was like all the tears in your life had been pent up, waiting for this moment, for when the pin fell.

That night was the lowest you’d ever felt in your life, and possibly even the lowest you’ve ever acted - blinded by a jealous rage over the girl that Paige had always promised you not to worry about, the girl Paige was basically making out with on live television just one month after you guys had broken up (and when it’d taken her two years to show PDA with you), you’d gone on all your social media accounts and blocked Paige on every single one of them.

Then an idea came to you. An act of retaliation that would hurt Paige as much as she hurt you. So you’d reopened Twitter, unblocked Paige. You’d scrolled until you found the perfect tweet. Your thumb had hovered for a split second over the like button, haunted by images of Paige’s hand trailing your stomach, her hair brushing your eyes, her mouth on your neck, before it was violently replaced by the image of Paige locking lips with the brunette flooding your mind, causing you to jam your thumb down with ferocity on the like button. You’d slammed the final nail in the coffin by deleting the app so that you couldn’t go back and undo your action before word got around to Paige.

The First Year

You thought you knew grief. You thought you’d familiarized yourself with every aspect of mourning: the realization in the morning, when your eyes open and you lose the blissful state of dreaming and you’re confronted with the harsh truths of the world. Or the late nights, when you’re restless and can’t sleep because of jealousy plaguing your mind. Even the deep longing of missing someone’s touch so bad that you swear that you can almost almost smell their perfume.

So you thought you knew grief - until your grandma died. It had been a matter of time. She’d had breast cancer, and for years now the doctors had been saying any time. But that still didn’t prepare you for the overwhelming pain that consumed all your senses, making it hard to think or eat or sleep or even breathe.

The first few nights after you received the news, you stared at the ceiling, unblinking until the early hours of the morning when the sun started creeping up through your windows. But you couldn’t even cry; you felt like a broken faucet. What the fuck was wrong with you? Sobbing over your stupid ex that you’d broken up with an entire year ago, but unable to shed a tear for your grandma, the woman who had single-handedly raised you. You were exhausted to the point of no return. When would everything stop hurting?

You’d only torn your eyes from your ceiling when your phone had lit up. It was 4 AM, and you wondered who it could be. You checked your phone, and every part of your body froze when you read the notifications.

TWITTER

From: paigebueckers1

I’m so sorry

TWITTER

From: paigebueckers1

I just heard the news

TWITTER

From: paigebueckers1

Don’t know if you’re even active on here anymore but it’s the only way I could reach you. If you see this, I just want to ask you to not keep your grief to yourself. Isolating yourself won’t make the pain go away. Make sure to talk to someone

Your heart had ached, your phone trembling in your hand. Because Paige had cared enough to send you a message, on the same app where you’d given the tabloids a wet dream and caused the UConn fandom to go into a spiral by liking a hate tweet about Paige. She’d cared enough to disregard all that to make sure you were okay. But she still hadn’t cared enough to offer to be that someone that she wanted you to talk to so bad.

So you’d left her on read, without responding. Had slipped back into your sheets, your head pounding and your lungs aching. This time the tears fell out easily.

[bits-and-babs]

✦ 𝐁𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐌 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 ✦

– KINKTOBER DAY 8: ROLEPLAY

könig x reader | smut, 18+ | 1.2k words

summary: as with all of your bedroom antics with könig, you plant the seed. but when he finally succumbs to your devious plan, you struggle to withstand the heat.

cw: f!reader, roleplay hostage situation, faux attack, faux disregard for partners comfort (könig cares a lot though, i promise) oral sex (m receiving), rough oral sex, face slapping, rough deep throating. 

⇽ KINKTOBER MLIST | DAY 9: WITCH!READER ⇾

The answer is unyielding and finite; ❝ no ❞. 

König was consistent in his promise to separate work from pleasure, so to speak. He refused to amalgamate something as pretty and delicate as you with something as ruinous and hideous as war— as his job. 

KorTac and Task Force 141 were unaware of your existence. König assured you it was for your protection. The less his allies knew about his valuable and beloved, his adversaries knew little still. Despite this, he offered you insight into his hostile world through a minute embrasure; the Scottish bomb disposal expert, Soap, the handsome Gaz who König colloquially named ‘helicopter boy’. Ghost. 

Still, he insisted upon keeping you pure. Scratch free, barren from the agonising shrapnel of grief and the devastating shells of brutal warfare. 

So when you pose the idea, quiet and shy in your approach, of König wearing his tactical uniform and treating you like a captive… The ‘no’ is adamant. However, as with everything you do or say to König, the idea worms its way into his mind. 

Days pass, but the thought seems to stick with König. He’s unsettled, fidgety almost. You suppose he thinks he’s being subtle, but with a frame as enormous as König lugs around, it’s almost impossible for the pitiful giant to do anything indistinctly. One nervous bob of his knee appears to set off avalanches in Tibet. 

When you return from work, everything is still, and abnormally quiet. It’s unusual for the house to be vacant upon your return from work, König always at the door as if ready to spring and remove the damn laptop bag that threatened to pop your shoulder from its socket as though it were an incendiary with a lit fuse. Nevertheless, the lights are off today, and the TV is silent. 

Creeping forward into the apartment, the door slowly swings shut behind you. The click of the lock setting into place isn’t alien to you– but neither is it, it seems, to your attacker. Poised and lethally swift, your assailant leaps from the shadows of the dimly lit apartment and smothers your mouth before a scream can even bubble past your trembling lips. Soft hushes breathe against your ear before terror can truly kick in, a familiar lilting accent turning your knees soft beneath your weight.

“You are to do as I say when I say it, Meine Perle.” König sounds so relaxed, as though he’s not breaking a sweat beneath the tactical vest you can feel digging into your shoulder blades. With a fizzling arousal skittering up your vertebrae and trembling beneath his touch, you nod your head slightly. It earns you praise, whispering a quiet ‘good girl’ against your hairline. 

So in tune with König’s non-verbal commands, you kneel as though he had barked the order when you feel him tap your shoulder absentmindedly. It’s foreign, the disregard König shows to your knees by making you settle on the hardwood floor in front of the entrance door– usually he would situate a pillow beneath you to ensure you didn’t bruise. Not today. You were his hostage. His plaything. 

Gazing up at the startling bulk of the behemoth standing before you, a thrill prickles at the nape of your neck when you watch him unzip his camo trousers deftly. It’s as though your taste buds tingle with anticipation as König pulls his already leaking cock from them, the leather of his gloves protesting quietly as he grips his length hard. 

“Open your mouth.” It’s an order. A threat. Excitement rouses between your thighs as you do just that, gazing up at your captor demurely and situating your palms on your lap. He’s unforgiving, winding your hair around his fingers and violently pulling your mouth onto his twitching cock. 

You barely register what’s happened before the rumble of his groan reaches your ears. A quiet ‘fuck’. 

Then he’s pushing, using the heel of his palm on the curve of your skull to sink you down his length before you’re ready. Firm, velvety flesh hits the back of your throat and sends you reeling, tears welling in your eyes as you gag around him, attempting to draw back. 

“Stop,” he barks, the frigidity of his tone triggering sparks in your abdomen– so unlike König. He halts your retreat, shoving you forward onto his cock until your nose is buried in the thatch of dark curls at the base of his shaft. Salt burns in the back of your throat, and tears spill down your cheeks. There’s a gleam in his eye that tells you he’s grinning. 

“If you value the air in your lungs,” König murmurs, voice sticky and thick with arousal as he rocks his hips slightly, your nose bumping his pubic bone and the head of his dick nudging your at your gag reflex, “it’ll do you good to stay put.” 

Heaving breaths through your nose, you flinch as König raises his leather-clad palm. It strikes downwards, connecting with your cheek harder than you suppose you’d both anticipated– because König lets out a sadistic groan of bliss, head lilting to the side slightly as he tries to bury himself further down your throat. It crushes your nose into his abdomen, and you feel the skin stretched above the bridge wrinkle. 

“Shit–” you hear him heave, the fingers in your hair tightening mercilessly, “I felt that in my cock.” The murmured admission, a slight deviation from that character König was attempting to play. Glee buries itself at the base of your spine, pulses in your clit. 

“Again,” he snaps back into character, with his dick buried as far down your throat as possible. Again, he lifts his wrist, bringing it down with a brutal smack against your cheek. The skin prickles, and you heave against the intrusion of his cock until tears spill down your cheeks. 

König’s lungs rattle with the force of his growl. His eyes are dark behind the mask, pleasure swallowing the pretty jade-green of his irises and he watched you choke on his length. 

Of course he’s getting off on you kneeling in front of him, dick buried in your throat and making a mess of your work makeup— but he can feel the vibrations of his slaps in your mouth around him. It’s making his nostrils flare; you can hear it. 

“A-gain.”

The crack that sounds against your cheekbone this time makes you whimper with the pain that follows. König loses control of himself, it seems, grasping desperately at your skull to hold you in place while fucking into your throat wildly. His head rolls back, grip bruising as his whole body seems to seize. 

Cum spills down your throat, heavy and thick and plentiful. König sounds almost pained by the force his orgasm is ripped from him, groaning loudly and high pitched to your ears as you gag around him again, the squeezing of your throat muscles adding to his bliss. 

“Hah—“ he gasps, pulling himself from your mouth to allow you to breathe. It’s not pretty, the ridiculous sounds of your frantic breathing, but when König kneels in front of you and cradles you in his massive arms, you feel precious. Priceless. 

König presses kisses to your temple, pushes your hair from your face and tells you just that. 

“Meine Perle.” 

cod mwii/kinktober taglist:

@mortallyuniquepeach @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @crybaby-blue-blog @heart-atttack @pansa-1-san @maviee @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @s-u-t @ghostslynx @solidly-indulgent @glitterypirateduck @gummyfang @bii-aan-ckaa @konigsblog @crissteetee @crissteetee67 @sylvanasthebansheequeen @akaym2 @exploremyworldsm @thriving-n-jiving @su57 @cabreezer0117 @cathnoneofyourbusiness @marygraceee @thatchickwiththecamera @legend-o-zelda @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @tusk89 @bellasbees01 @dog55teeth

@mockerycrow @bubuslutty @cheezitwh0re @haunt3dh3art @levi-llama @thebiscuitsheep @maelstrom007 @alexxavicry @bug-sy-boy @glennrheesworld @kittenfrostt @luvfromkat @blingblong55 @whore4dilfs @wolfyland07 @doggydale @dog55teeth @cabreezer0117 @cathnoneofyourbusiness @marygraceee @thatchickwiththecamera @legend-o-zelda @whore-for-anime @i-love-ghost @cyberpr1m3 @mockerycrow @bubuslutty @lundenloves @cheezitwh0re @haunt3dh3art @babychoi03 @infectedkura @allekat1988 @whore-for-anime @soupbinsoup @passi0np1t @mockerycrow @cyberpr1m3 @i-love-ghost @allekat1988 @infectedkura @babychoi03 @freakquenci @maviee @yunggoblin @sleepystaarr @watyousayin @soupbinsoup @passi0np1t @damn-dean-blog @pheonyxmoon @magicalreviewphantom @limegreenbabx @johfaam0 @iaur @justsayk

@bloodmoon-bites @wiltedwonderland @doggydale @limegreenbabx @namelesshumanperson @ninahhh-brahh @km-ffluv @decaffeinateddinosauronearth @domaniquessidehoe2 @arrozyfrijoles23 @amisouki @sleepysheepsstuff @chunguk @lundenloves @marylovesdilfs @ninahhh-brahh @namelesshumanperson @limegreenbabx @doggydale @wiltedwonderland @justsayk

[burningcheese-merchant]

Psst, hear me out: The Beast being fucking yanderes with the ancients.

You Get It™️ I mean... Did you guys see episode 6? Burning Simp Cookie is already a yandere lol. He's been there and he refuses to leave. And Shadow Milk is honestly not that far behind, he feels some type of way towards Pure Vanilla and it would be cute if it wasn't so sad and creepy lol

Really though, I just love hero/villain ships in general (always have, since long before Cookie Run ever existed) and I get a kick out of villains acting stupid over crushes (read: obsessions), and acting stupid in general. There's just something about a villain being in love with the hero to a psychotic, comical degree, and the hero rebuffing them at every turn that's just really amusing to me lol. Like what Joker sort of has with Batman, you know?

Here are my Yandere Beasts in bare-bones terms:

Burning Spice: come on, if you've read my stuff, you know EXACTLY what Yandere Spice is like lol. If not, I'll refer you to this and this, as well as my fics on AO3. If those don't tell you what Yandere Spice is like then idk how else to help you lol

Shadow Milk: if the final boss of theater/drama kids had a crush but was also a malignant narcissist of some sort lol. Absolutely DESPERATE for Vanilla's attention at all times. If he's not actively trying to worm into Vanilla's brain and harass him in his thoughts and dreams, he's in the real world brainstorming better ways to do that lol. He does not grasp why the creepy puppet shows and gaslighting attempts aren't convincing Vanilla to fall in love with him. Will attack and torment and insult Vani in one breath and then praise and love and worship him in another, because he's a histrionic clown freak with whirlwind emotions. But above all else, he literally thinks he owns Vani and is meticulously plotting the horrible and hilarious demise of any and all he perceives as a threat to their union

Eternal Sugar: World's Laziest Stalker™️. Almost exclusively haunts Holly in her dreams (I have to assume that that's what her power will entail, as the Beast of Sloth); however, she's more "effective" in her wooing attempts due to her past experience as the Herald of Happiness. She actually goes out of her way to construct dreams and the like that have things in them that make Holly happy (or what she thinks makes Holly happy; she, as well as the others, has big tunnel vision and is very selfish and self-absorbed, and thus pays more lip service to her own wants than those of who she loves/obsesses over). Thankfully doesn't run into Holly in person often because that's work... but sometimes she DOES work up the nerve to go after her for real, and... well

Mystic Flour: Denial, denial, denial. Not just a river in Egypt the Golden Cheese Kingdom, but she'll say and act like otherwise. No, she does not like Dark Cacao. He robbed her of her volition and the chance to enact her will. He prevented her from freeing the world from pain and suffering. He is a stubborn fool who refuses to understand the truth. He... is very handsome. She does not like how handsome he is. It is distracting. She doesn't like dwelling on her memories of him and their encounters. She doesn't like how she came to harbor a single kernel of respect in her heart after he stood his ground against her; a kernel that she inadvertently nurtured and cultivated slowly but surely, until... no. No, she doesn't like Dark Cacao. She doesn't think about him all day. She doesn't want to try to lure him back to her land so she can trap him in the flour fog with her again. She doesn't miss feeling his dark eyes on her. She doesn't deeply resent his attachment to his people, and seek to transfer that attachment to her instead. No, she... damn it, he's ruined her. He's made her feel things again. He's made her succumb to selfishness and greed, to earthly desire and attachment - desire for HIM, attachment to HIM. All of her hard work and enlightenment gone to waste... She doesn't want to like Dark Cacao, she recognizes the folly in such a thing, but she's stuck - and so stuck is she that not only does she not really see a way out, she doesn't WANT one. She's become too content with her attachment to him too quickly. Now she has to agonize over her own foolishness, and try to keep denying that she doesn't care while also longing for his attention and wanting to do away with all that steals his attention away from her

Silent Salt: probably the least awful of the five, but he's still creepy and that's not a high bar to clear anyway lol. Has a better grasp on "normal" behavior than the others (like... he pays attention to what White Lily likes/wants and tries to adjust accordingly), but he's following her around everywhere and acting extremely violent and territorial over her towards anyone who he catches approaching her. He's legitimately, surprisingly sweet and gentle towards her; he brings her flowers, he listens to her when she asks/tells him something, he's more or less respectful of her personal space (he will try to be as physically close to her as possible, but actually backs off a little if she asks him to, only to try again, and so on and so forth)... but he's still a villain, he's still violent and creepy, he still gets angry when she pays attention to other people for too long and he has brought actual harm to others out of jealousy. He's the best of the worst but that really doesn't mean much of anything, he's still a psycho creep like the others

In short, they form a tight-knit coalition of absolutely fucking deranged freakazoids and they should all probably die :)

[interastical]

just had a silly idea....how would they respond to reader asking "would you still love me if I was a worm"...any phighters really 👉👈

`` WOULD YOU STILL LOVE ME IF I

WAS A WORM ? , ,

" ... darlin' ... what? "

SWORD

Considering how socially awkward the guy is, even with you as his partner, he'd still find himself giving you the most confused stare of his life as the question left your mouth.

"What kind of a question is that??"

When your question is left unanswered for a few short moments, you give him a raised brow and cross your arms - a stupid smirk on your face.

He's flustered, the blush on his cheeks beginning to show.

"Of.. of course I would still love you,"

He'd say, after processing your question - and after succumbing to your teasing and playful glances.

MEDKIT

The question doesn't catch the guy off-guard. Medkit knows you, and he knows how often you ask ridiculous questions when things grow silent between the two of you.

When he doesn't answer, yet still feels your gaze locked onto him, he sighs.

"Don't ask such ridiculous questions. You know I love you."

He leans in and gives you a soft kiss on your forehead, letting out a soft, comforting chuckle erupting from your throat.

Your chuckle makes him smile.

VINE STAFF

She hums, thinking over your bizarre question for a small moment. Looking down at the bed of flowers the two of you were just planting, her fingers would brush against the petals of one of the blooming flowers.

"Dear.. the way I wonder how your mind comes up with such silly questions," Vine Staff smiled, slowly and carefully picking the flower off of the bed.

She'd turn to face you, reaching her hand out and placing the beautiful flower onto your head.

"Demon.. worm.. plant.. it wouldn't matter to me." She explained. "You're still my blossom."

SCYTHE

She barks out a laugh that echoes throughout the canyons of Lost Temple - a laugh that you were convinced could be heard for miles.

The desert outlaw wiped a tear from her eye, giving you a playful smirk.

"Darlin'... the things you come up with!"

Scythe strolled towards you, her heels clicking and bringing up small, tiny clouds of desert sand as your posture shifted - instantly becoming flustered up as you felt her reach her robotic, clawed hand under your chin, lifting it up with ease.

"Whatever you are.. it don't matter. You're mine, love. Ain't nothin' gonna change that."

Scythe chuckled at your frozen state, taking the chance to steal a kiss - planting it right on your cheek.

COIL

The two of you were in the midst of a brawl between a bunch of Biografts sent by Subspace to track the two of you down. During the playful banter that you and Coil shared as you both took down the robots with ease, the question came up.

Coil shattered the face of one of the Biografts', before pausing and turning towards you, holding back his laughter.

"Did you just ask if I would love you even if you were a worm?"

You laughed - taking down one of the Biografts attempting to charge towards you, turning your head towards Coil and giving him a wink, sticking your tongue out.

Your intoxicating laughter made the hellhound erupt in laughter as the two of you moved side-by-side to fight together against the incoming group of Biografts.

" Lil' ol' you, a worm? Pshh.. wouldn't stop ya from being cute," Coil grinned sheepishly, sending his own wink your way before rushing ahead towards the small swarm of robots, leaving you stunned for a moment - processing his reply.

With a blush rising to your face, you shook your head, letting out a sheepish chuckle at his goofy behavior, before running after him to lend a hand.

[101maverick]

hey i saw your requests are open and i was wondering if maybe you could write smth hurt/comfort with jason please? like they had a big fight and then they make up after something happens🙌🏻

A/n: okok srry if it took me a few days but school and other projects are kicking my butt, hope you enjoy!! I decided to use your request to study Jason from a more ak! Point of view if that makes sense? I haven’t consumed the media but i’ve read some really beautiful works with him and hope it makes him justice :)

Word count: 1206 words

Execution At Sundown

Jason was at your place, sitting on the side of the couch with your tv remote by his side, cup of soda in his hand.

He still hadn’t shown you his face even after months of dating, and even though it stung you understood that it was a huge show of trust on his part, so if he was content sipping his soda from a straw that went under his mask you wouldn’t say anything about it and keep your feelings to yourself.

Everything had been going fine, you had just been hanging out while watching a movie.

It all hit the fan when you decided to go get another soda, rising up from the couch and padding down the hallway to the kitchen to fetch the drink.

After retrieving your drink you made your way back, and as the couch came into view you saw that Jason was now engrossed with something on his phone.

You didn’t think too much about it, just eyed the now empty soda resting in his left hand. On a whim, you walked up to his side of the couch and leaned over, going to grab his empty cup to replenish it.

Before you could do much more than make contact with the clothed skin of Jason’s shoulder though you found yourself being slammed back, loosing your balance and falling on your behind.

——————————

Jason reacted out of instinct.

One second he was relatively relaxed on his girlfriend’s couch, looking at a map of his territory for anything suspicious that might be going on, and the next there was a pressure on his shoulder, somebody leaning in and- “Why don’t you scream a bit for me, Todd?” and then there was pain-

He grabbed the body pressing in on him and pushed, slamming his attacker back and watching, half-standing and with his torso turned in a way that pulled at the knotted skin marring every inch of him, and even if the assailant was on the ground they still hurt him, that damned clown still dug his claws in and he always screamed but nobody heard him and-

Oh. It’s you.

It’s you, who had wormed his way into his heart in a matter of months.

It’s you, who had caressed the mangled skin of his hands and said “That’s okay” in response to the proof of him having been broken and put together crooked and wrong. As if it really was.

It’s you, legs sprawled on the floor with a bewildered expression on your face, wide eyes staring up at him in shock.

Jason stares back at you, his own features turned to stone under the mask as he feels his throat close up.

He had hurt you. He had thrown you to the ground. Guess the apple never falls far from the tree then, uh? Guess he was just like Willis after all, smacking around anyone without the ability to control his feelings. A rabid animal.

An animal. A pet. That’s what the Joker used to call him. What the Joker still calls him every day, in his wretched mind. A mindless thing, twisted and contorted to be ready to bend at his master’s will, and the fact he didn’t have one here anymore didn’t mean he was suddenly upgraded to ‘human’, did it? He was still incapable of controlling himself, succumbing to the rage just like Willis had to the bottle. Not even capable of recognising his girlfriend the only person who had accepted his crooked form and chipped edges, throwing her around simply because even gentle and casual touches were ruined for him by that forsaken clown-

“Jace?”

The world comes back into focus, his eyes zero in on the spot of the wall he had been staring at in his haze and then shift down to you, now seated more comfortably on the ground. You haven’t moved, you haven’t come closer to him.

You’re scared of him.

Jason feels his throat constrict, and he punches the words out around the lump forming in his throat. “I- I didn’t- you were- sorry- I-”

Gosh he’s such a mess, can’t even explain to you how pathetic he is, how he still lets a fucking clown torture him with his mere shadow, and now you will realise the honeyed touches are not made for him, not anymore, maybe they never were, or else someone would’ve come-

Now you will realise that all those jagged edges are places you could cut yourself on. Now you will realise a rabid dog like him just needs to be put down for good.

He stutters out a last sentence for you, spits it out on your clean parquet, and even that feels too much like dirtying your sanctuary for his liking. “I- sorry, I’ll- I’ll go-” and he’s not even finishing his sentence before he’s stalking towards your apartment’s door, steps as sure as he can make them as he walks away from the only hands who had held him oh so gently, only like Catherine ever had, his mom, and he wills his legs to keep moving or else he won’t make it out of here for good-

“Don’t leave, please.”

Your voice is quiet, quiet as it breaks his heart and his resolve.

Because Jason has never been strong, and the little crack he can hear coming from his heart hurts but so does the knowledge he’s too weak to keep going the last few steps to your door, the few steps that’ll lead him back to how it was before and you back to a life of safety, free of the burden that is Jason Todd.

He turns around. You’re leaning in the doorway to the living room, staring at him on the other side of the hallway.

Your stance is relaxed. You aren’t holding yourself like you’re hurt. Your eyes are wide, and sad, but they’re not wary.

With his attention on you, you speak again. Your voice is soft, and now also kinda trembly. “I know I don’t know even the start of the story, but I know you have one and it’s the reason things like this sometimes happen.” Your eyes stare into the white lenses of the mask, desperately searching for his gaze under it. “I’m not gonna say it’s okay, because it isn’t.”

There it is. The proof he fucked it up, like is his design.

“It’s not okay,” you continue, startling him. He was getting lost again. He waits for the axe. “because something or someone hurt you, and you still suffer from it.”

He looks at you. Jason looks in your eyes, and gets the feeling you know he’s returning your gaze.

“I want to help you, Jace. Any way I can. Any way you let me. Because I know that when things aren’t okay, sometimes all you need is someone there with you to help you make it so.”

Your voice was sure through it all, but now it falters a bit. “So, so if you want, I could be by your side. If that’s how you’ll let me help. So, so don’t leave.”

His eyes don’t wander away from you.

And as he gazes into your eyes, glinting with the light from the tv bathing your side in neons, he knows that he never could.

The axe doesn’t fall.

[kckt88]

In The Night.

Summary:

Aemond struggles to cope in the aftermath of killing Lucerys and seeks comfort from an unlikely source.

Warnings - Brothel Visit, Guilt, Remorse, Language, Violence, Angst Uncle/Neice Incest, Kissing, Oral Sex, Vaginal/Anal Fingering, P in V, Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Positions.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x O.C - JACAELLA VELARYON

Word Count: 6065

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8

Aemond wandered the bustling streets of King's Landing, his mind a tempest of recent events and decisions. The cobblestones under his boots seemed to echo the turmoil within him.

His grandsire Otto Hightower's plot to usurp the throne from Rhaenyra had set everything in motion, pushing Aemond into a whirlwind of political machinations and betrayals.

Otto's insistence on crowning Aegon as King, and the measures taken to ensure their success, had left a bitter taste in Aemond's mouth. He remembered the cold determination in Otto's eyes as he had insisted that his wife, Jacaella, and their son, Rhaegar be locked in their chambers, preventing any chance of escape or interference.

Jacaella's pleas still haunted him. Her voice, filled with desperation and fear, echoed in his mind. “Don't do this, Aemond. Please, I’m begging you-”

But he had steeled his heart then, convinced that the end justified the means, his brother Aegon was Viserys first born son, he was the rightful ruler of the seven kingdoms, not his oldest child and named heir Rhaenyra.

His journey to Storm's End played out in his thoughts like a twisted saga. He had gone there to secure Baratheon's support, promising a marriage pact between one of Lord Borros Baratheon's daughters and his younger brother, Daeron.

But it was his encounter with Lucerys that stood out the most. The memory of their confrontation. The chase through the skies on the backs of their dragons was a blur of adrenaline and fear. And then, the final, horrific moment when Vhagar had torn Lucerys and Arrax to shreds.

The streets of King's Landing blurred around him as Aemond thought of Jacaella, her grief-stricken face burned into his memory, she had wept for hours upon hearing of her brother's death.

Since then, she had withdrawn from him completely, refusing to be near him, to see him, or even to touch him, even in the presence of their son. The distance she placed between them felt like a physical wound, deep and unhealing.

His heart ached with a profound sorrow. He loved Jacaella more than he had ever thought possible, at first, she was the wife he never wanted, but their fates were sealed that night in Driftmark, after he lost his eye, it was his father’s last desperate attempt to bridge the ever expanding chasm that had formed within the family.

He had lost an eye but gained two dragons that night, and he had loathed his father for it, forcing a the twin sister of Jacaerys Velaryon upon him, but when she arrived in Kings Landing at the age of four and ten, he tried his best to avoid being around her, but everywhere he went there she was, he tried to pretend he was unbothered by her amethyst eyes and flowing dark curls but eventually he succumbed.

She wormed her way into his heart and from their first kiss, he was hooked. She was intelligent, witty and a fantastic artist. His chamber walls were quickly decorated with her sketches, and his most treasured possession was the drawing of Vhagar.

Their wedding night would be ingrained within his memory forever, the sounds she had made as she peaked on his tongue, fingers and then his cock were like song notes on the wind. The marks he had left upon her skin were proof of their love.

He insisted on shared chambers, so they could enjoy one another as often as they wished too, which admittedly was every night and sometimes more than once, there were even occasions when he would find her during the day, and they would sneak off with one another.

It was no surprise when it was announced that she was with child, given how often he gave her his seed. The day she birthed his son Rhaegar was one of the proudest moments of his life, his precious boy, his little silver haired dragon.

Gods how he vowed to always make sure that his son knew of his love, and that Rhaegar would always know he was wanted, that his wife would always know of his devotion.

But now his actions had driven a wedge between them. She was angry and frightened of him, and he was desperate to bridge the chasm that had formed.

But how could he? How could he make her understand that everything he did was for their family's future? How could he win back her trust when his hands were stained with her brother's blood?

As he walked, the weight of his choices pressed heavily on him. The people around him went about their lives, unaware of the storm raging within their Prince. The street vendors called out, children laughed and played, and the city thrived. But Aemond felt like an outsider, disconnected from the world around him.

Aemond stood outside the brothel, his heart pounding in his chest. The sounds of the city seemed distant, muffled by the roaring turmoil within him. He didn't mean to be here, didn't want to be here, but he couldn't help himself.

Desperation and confusion had led him to this place, a refuge of sorts where he hoped to find some semblance of solace or escape from his tormented thoughts.

The sign above the door swayed gently in the evening breeze, and the soft, inviting light spilling from within contrasted sharply with the darkness that shrouded his heart. He took a deep breath, steeling himself, and pushed open the door.

The noise and spectacle inside assaulted his senses: laughter, music, and the murmur of illicit activities. He ignored it all, his eye scanning the room.

And then he saw her. Sylvi. The older woman Aegon had brought him to see when he was just three and ten. His stomach churned as their eyes met, a mix of shame and a strange, unsettling familiarity washing over him.

Sylvi's gaze held recognition, and a slow smile spread across her lips as she approached him, her movements graceful and predatory.

"How you've grown," she said, her voice a sultry purr.

Aemond lowered his head, unable to meet her eyes. He didn't know what to say, the words sticking in his throat like shards of glass.

He felt like a boy again, lost and uncertain, standing in a place he didn't belong.

Sylvi reached out and took his trembling hand in hers, her touch sending a jolt through him. She led him through the room, past the leering patrons and the spectacle he was trying so hard to ignore.

They ascended a narrow staircase, the noise fading into a dull hum as they reached the upper floors.

She opened the door to a private room and gently guided him inside, shutting the door behind them with a soft click. The room was dimly lit, the air heavy with the scent of incense and something else he couldn't quite place.

Aemond stood there, feeling more vulnerable than he had in years.

Sylvi turned to face him, her expression a mixture of curiosity and something deeper, perhaps a flicker of compassion. "Why are you here, my Prince?" she asked softly, stepping closer to him.

He shook his head, his emotions a tangled mess. "I-I don't know," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

She reached out, brushing a strand of hair from his face. "You're carrying a heavy burden," she observed. "It's written all over you."

Aemond closed his eyes, the weight of her words pressing down on him. "I just-I don't know what to do," he confessed, his voice breaking.

Sylvi's gaze softened, and she took his hands in hers, guiding him to sit on the edge of the bed.

"I can offer you something, someone, to help you forget, if only for a moment. Sometimes, that’s all we need."

Aemond hesitated, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him. But in his desperation, he nodded silently.

Sylvi gave him a sad smile, squeezing his hands once more before slipping out of the room. He sat there, staring at the flickering candlelight, feeling the oppressive silence close in around him.

Minutes later, the door opened again, and a young blonde woman entered. She moved with a practiced grace, her smile polite and professional. "I'm Copper Penny," she introduced herself, her voice soft and inviting.

Aemond said nothing, his throat tight.

Copper Penny approached him, taking his hand and gently pulling him to his feet. He stood there, watching her silently as she untied his cloak and began to undo the clasps of his leather tunic. Her fingers were deft and quick, but as she worked, he caught sight of her eyes—green and bright. Panic surged through him.

His mind was flooded with images of Jacaella, her amethyst eyes filled with hurt and anger. The memory of her face, her voice, her touch, crashed over him like a tidal wave.

It was wrong, all wrong. He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be doing this. He had a wife; they had a son, he couldn’t dishonour them like this.

"N-No," he whispered, his voice trembling.

Copper Penny paused, looking up at him with a mixture of surprise and concern. He could see the questions in her eyes, the silent query of what she had done wrong.

Aemond's panic turned to anger, a desperate, flailing anger born from his own self-loathing.

He pushed Copper Penny away from him, his movements abrupt and forceful. "Leave," he demanded, his voice harsh and unsteady. "Get out!"

Her eyes widened in shock, but she didn't argue. She nodded quickly, gathering her composure before retreating from the room, the door closing softly behind her.

Aemond stood there, his chest heaving, his hands trembling with the intensity of his emotions. The room felt stifling, the walls closing in around him.

The weight of his actions, his decisions, and the consequences they had wrought pressed down on him, threatening to crush him completely.

He thought of Jacaella, of their son, of the life he had shattered with his choices. The woman he loved was pulling away from him, and he was powerless to stop it. The realization cutting deeper than any blade.

Aemond collapsed onto the bed, the softness beneath him barely registering as he fought to contain the flood of emotions.

His breaths came in ragged gasps, the room spinning around him as he struggled to keep his composure.

The sound of the door opening was a distant murmur, but he didn't have the strength to lift his head or see who had entered.

Sylvi's presence beside him was a gentle intrusion into his storm of despair. She sat beside him, her weight sinking into the mattress, and he felt her hand on his shoulder, a warm, comforting touch.

He turned his head, resting it in her lap, his tears soaking into the fabric of her dress. She stroked his long silver hair with slow, soothing motions, her fingers gentle and patient.

"I never meant for any of this to happen," Aemond sobbed, his voice muffled and broken. "I didn't mean to kill him. It was an accident-all I wanted was his eye as payment for the one he took from me”.

Sylvi's hand continued its rhythmic stroking, her silence an invitation for him to unburden himself.

"He never said sorry," Aemond continued, his words pouring out in a torrent of grief and anger. "He was never punished for what he did, and I suffered for years. The pain, the infections, the endless procedures to try and fix the damage. He lived without consequence while I bore the scar. My father choosing her-we meant nothing to him, I was nothing"

His sobs intensified, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. "And Jacaella," he choked out. "My sweet wife, I've broken her heart. She was the one good thing I had in my life, my light in the darkness-and now she's gone. I've driven her away."

Sylvi's touch remained steady, her presence a steady anchor in the maelstrom of his guilt and sorrow. She listened without interruption, allowing him to pour out the anguish that had been festering inside him.

"I don't know how to fix this," Aemond whispered, his voice hoarse and raw. "I don't know how to make her see that I'm still the man she loved that I never wanted to hurt her. I just wanted justice, for what was taken from me."

Sylvi continued to stroke his hair, her silence a balm to his wounded soul.

In her lap, Aemond wept for all that he had lost, the tears cleansing in their own way.

As the minutes passed, the intensity of his sobs gradually subsided, leaving him exhausted and hollow.

"I don't know what to do," he confessed in a whisper, his voice trembling. "I don't know how to make things right."

Aemond's breathing began to steady, the storm of his emotions gradually subsiding. But as the silence stretched, a new feeling took hold—a creeping, insidious fear.

His confession, the vulnerability he had shown, it was dangerous. If anyone knew, if word got out, it could unravel everything.

Panic seized him. He bolted upright, gripping Sylvi's arms with a strength that belied his earlier exhaustion. His eye, wild and desperate, bored into hers. "No one can know," he hissed, his voice low and trembling with intensity. "You are never to repeat what I just told you-If you do, I will feed you to Vhagar."

Sylvi's eyes widened, but she nodded quietly, understanding the gravity of his threat.

She had seen many men in states of distress, but the ferocity in Aemond's gaze was something else entirely. "I won't tell anyone," she promised, her voice steady despite the fear creeping into her heart.

Aemond's grip loosened, and he exhaled shakily, his panic slowly ebbing away. He reached into his belt pouch, retrieving a hefty purse of gold coins, and handed it to her.

Without another word, Aemond picked up his discarded leather tunic and cloak, his movements sharp and hurried. He threw them over his shoulder, his eyes avoiding hers as he made his way to the door. He paused briefly, his hand on the doorframe, as if weighing his next words.

But none came. Instead, he pushed the door open and left the room, the echo of his footsteps fading down the corridor.

Sylvi remained where she was, the purse of gold heavy in her hands. She watched the door close behind him, her mind a swirl of conflicting thoughts and emotions.

She knew better than to betray the secrets of powerful men, especially one as volatile as Aemond Targaryen.

Aemond walked through the halls of the Red Keep, his mind still reeling from the night's events. He moved quickly, his steps echoing in the empty corridors, until he reached his chambers.

Pushing open the door, he was surprised to find Jacaella there.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" she spat, her voice trembling with barely contained rage.

Aemond stiffened, confusion and defensiveness flashing across his face. "What do you mean?"

"I know where you've been," she snapped, her eyes blazing with anger. "You've been on the Street of Silk. To a brothel."

Aemond's heart sank. He opened his mouth to respond, but Jacaella's words came in a torrent, cutting him off.

"Wasn't stealing my mother's throne and killing my brother enough for you? Now you have to sully our marriage by laying with whores?" Her voice rose, trembling with emotion. "You have made a mockery of me, of us. You have dishonoured me."

Aemond's face twisted with a mixture of guilt and anger. "Is it any wonder I found myself seeking comfort elsewhere when my own wife will not even look at me?" he retorted, his voice sharp.

The slap came swiftly and without warning. Jacaella's palm struck his cheek with a resounding crack, the force of it snapping his head to the side.

He stared at her, stunned, as she continued to rage, lurching forward pounding her fists against his chest.

"KINSLAYER” she screamed. "I hate you-I hate you-I hate you!"

Aemond stood there, enduring her blows, the words cutting deeper than any physical pain. Each accusation, each strike, drove home the depth of her betrayal and heartbreak.

"I didn't touch another woman," he began, his voice raw with emotion. "I almost did, but I couldn't-"

Jacaella paused, but he could see the slight tremor in her shoulders.

"I just felt so lonely," Aemond continued, his words tumbling out in a rush. "I know you hate me for what I've done, and I hate myself too. Every day, I live with the regret, the guilt-I know I destroyed what we had. But you mean everything to me, Jacaella."

“Aemond-”

"I hurt you so badly. I took away your brother, your trust, your peace. And I can't forgive myself for that." whispered Aemond as he took another step closer, reaching out to her.

Jacaella turned slowly to face him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Aemond felt a lump in his throat, his own tears threatening to spill over. He took her face gently in his hands, his touch trembling.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

Tears streamed down his face as he repeated the words over and over, his thumbs brushing away the tears that fell from Jacaella's eyes.

He sobbed openly, the weight of his remorse and sorrow overwhelming him. "I don't want to lose you. I never wanted to hurt you."

Jacaella stood there, her heart pounding, torn between the remnants of her anger and the glimmer of hope Aemond's words had kindled.

The pain was still raw, the betrayal fresh, but his anguish and sincerity had touched something deep within her. Without warning, she lunged forward, closing the distance between them, and kissed him.

For a moment, Aemond was stunned, his mind struggling to process the sudden, intense contact. This was the most she had touched him in what felt like an eternity.

Her lips were urgent, demanding, and filled with a mix of pain and longing. He hesitated only for a heartbeat before his instincts took over, and he kissed her back, his arms wrapping around her body and pulling her close.

The kiss was a tumultuous blend of emotions—grief, anger, love, and desperation. Aemond held her tightly, afraid to let go, afraid that this moment would slip away like so many others.

He could feel the tremble in her body, the soft hitch of her breath as their kiss deepened. His hands roamed her back, clutching at her as if she were a lifeline.

Jacaella's fingers tangled in his long hair, pulling him even closer, her tears mingling with his. The kiss was a catharsis, a way to pour out all the emotions that words could never fully express.

Aemond's mind swirled with the intensity of it, the world outside their embrace fading into insignificance.

Aemond looked into Jacaella's eyes, the intensity of their shared moment still coursing through him.

He could feel the fragile connection they had just begun to rebuild, and he didn't want to let it slip away. With a deep, shuddering breath, he whispered, "Please, Jacaella-let me take you to bed."

Jacaella looked up at him, her eyes searching his. She could see the raw need in his gaze, the sincere plea for a chance to show her how much she meant to him. Her own heart ached with the desire to find solace in his arms, to escape the pain that had haunted them both.

"Yes," she breathed, her voice breaking. "Please, Aemond, make me forget. Let me feel your love for me."

Aemond's heart soared with a mixture of relief and yearning. He gently cupped her face in his hands, pressing a tender kiss to her lips before leading her to their bed.

Aemond hooked his arms around her thighs, quickly pulling her to the edge of the bed.

Jacaella watched as Aemond opened his mouth spat on her cunny.

His singular eye quickly looking at her before he lowered his head and pressed into her core with his tongue.

Jacaella clutched the bedspread above her head, her fingers digging into the fabric.

Aemond withdrew from her soaking wet core, licking at her pearl with his tongue. He was hard, fast and brutal, alternating between her assaulted bundle of nerves and drinking deep from her cunt.

Jacaella ground down on Aemond, hard; his tongue speared deeper inside her, and she felt the warm curl of her peak approach.

“That’s it come for me baby-” urged Aemond, his fingers reaching forward to caress her pearl.

“AEMOND” screamed Jacaella arching off the bed as she peaked.

“Hmm” muttered Aemond as he pressed a series of kisses to her inner thighs, his teeth nipping at her skin.

“P-Please A-Aemond. Need you” begged Jacaella.

Aemond rose from the floor, his chin shining with her slick, he smirked as he swiped his fingers over his chin and then placed them in his mouth savouring the delicious taste of his wife.

Aemond moved up Jacaella’s body pausing to grasp hold of her left breast as he ran his tongue over the rosy nipple, his teeth grazing the stiffened peak.

“Oh-yes“ gasped Jacaella, as he moved to the other breast and lavished it with the same attention.

“Issa jorrāelagon-Issa glaeson-ñuhon” growled Aemond as he seized his wife’s lips in a ferocious kiss, his hard cock throbbing against her thigh (My love-my life-mine).

Aemond wrapped a hand around his cock and slowly ran it over Jacaella’s wet entrance, she began squirming impatiently against him as he continued to tease her.

Gods he was so desperate for her, his wife. His treasure.

“P-Please, I want you” exclaimed Jacaella desperately.

“Hmm” rasped Aemond as he slid inside her with a singular thrust. His hips coming to a stop against hers.

Aemond started to thrust slowly, trying to prolong the feel of his wife squeezing his cock.

"Faster, Aemond" begged Jacaella.

"Patience, issa dōna" chided Aemond as he ran his nose up his wife’s neck (My sweet).

“Yes, Aemond, just like that-" panted Jacaella.

Her hands ran over his arms, over his shoulders. Her fingernails raking down his back.

“Fucking mark me harder-“ growled Aemond.

Jacaella dug her nails into his skin and clawed at his back deep enough to draw blood.

 “Gods, Ella" grunted Aemond, speeding up slightly, revelling in the pain.

"Fuck me, Aemond. Fuck me with that big, cock of yours. You feel so good inside me”.

Aemond groaned loudly, knew exactly what his wife was doing, but he couldn’t help himself. She wanted faster, he was going much faster now.

His pace had increased with every filthy word that dropped from his wife’s luscious lips. Now he was quickly thrusting in and out, shaking the bed, the headboard banging loudly against the wall.

Aemond lifted Jacaella’s legs onto his shoulders and wrapped his arms around her thighs, squeezing them together as he thrust his cock into her soaking wet cunny.

His wife folded her arms above her head as she moved her hips, meeting Aemond thrust for thrust.

“Aemond! I’m going to come. Oh, fuck!” screamed Jacaella.

“That’s it baby-come for me” exclaimed Aemond as he felt her clenching on his cock.

Aemond could feel the tension  building in his abdomen, but he didn’t want to come. Not yet.

Not even waiting for her orgasm to fully subside, Aemond moved Jacaella’s legs off his shoulders and quickly manoeuvred her onto all fours, she whimpered as his cock slipped out, but he bent forward to press a series of kisses to her glorious arse, his large hands kneading the soft pale flesh.

“P-Please Aemond” whispered Jacaella, her voice slightly muffled as she pressed her face into the mattress.

Aemond stuck his finger in his mouth before he ran it over her puckered hole.

“Is this alight?” breathed Aemond.

“Y-Yes. Put it inside me. I can take it” whimpered Jacaella.

“Tell me-Tell me if it’s too much” replied Aemond as he slowly pressed his finger inside her.

“Ooh Aemond, yes. Please. More” babbled Jacaella as he moved his finger in and out before adding a second.

“Your doing so well-my darling” moaned Aemond as he moved his fingers inside his wife, his other hand slowly stroking his cock.

“I want you-please Aemond”

Aemond moved into position and sheathed himself inside Jacaella once again, his eye rolling into the back of his head.

“FUCK-” groaned Aemond,

“God. Yes. Aemond” moaned Jacaella, his fingers in her arse and his cock deep in her cunt was so good.

Aemond began to thrust in and out of her in deep achingly slow thrusts, his fingers moving in rhythm with his cock.

“Harder-more-please raqiarzy” wailed Jacaella (Beloved).

“Issa vaogenka hāedar” growled Aemond, his fingers moving faster (My dirty girl).

“Valzȳrys-” whimpered Jacaella (Husband).

“That’s it-take it-take all of me” muttered Aemond as he removed his fingers, and grabbed hold of Jacaella’s hips and increased the pace of his thrusts.

Jacaella took one of Aemonds hands that was on her hip and brought it to the back of her head.

Knowing what his wife wanted, Aemond placed his hand on the back of her head and pushed her face into the mattress, her back arching.

His cock reaching deep inside her as he moved with such ferocity it could rival an animal, his long silver hair unbound and sticking to his sweaty back.

Aemond then grasped both of Jacaella’s arms and held them behind her back as he pounded into her, the sound of his hips slapping against hers echoed around the room.

Her screams of pleasure muffled by the mattress.

 “Fuck. Ella-that’s it” moaned Aemond.

He released Jacaella’s arms and then took hold of her long hair, twisting his fingers into the dark messy braid before he pulled her backwards, her sweaty back colliding with his chest.

Aemond held his wife tight too him as he fucked her, his cock reaching deep inside her.

One hand grasped her hip, his blunt fingers digging into her flesh. Whilst his other released her hair and moved to her throat, squeezing gently.

“Give it to me please” pleaded Jacaella her head lolling back onto Aemond’s shoulder.

Aemond could feel the tension building in his abdomen again, as he thrust his cock inside Jacaella.

“I want you to come on my cock again, but not like this-” muttered Aemond as he once again withdrew from his wife’s wet heat and propped himself up against the headboard.

“-Aemond” exclaimed Jacaella breathlessly.

 “Ride me-” replied Aemond as he pulled her on top of him. His hand moving to his cock, rubbing it along her folds before she sunk down and completely engulfed him.

 “Ooooh” gasped Jacaella as she rolled her hips against Aemonds.

“That’s it baby, take it. Take all of me”.

Aemond placed his hands on her hips and marvelled at his wife as she rode him.

Jacaella dug her nails into Aemond’s chest as she moved her hips against his, his cock hitting the sweet spot inside her perfectly.

“A-Aemond” moaned Jacaella as he suddenly sat up, moving his hand to her breast again and taking her nipple into his mouth, his teeth biting down on the rosy bud.

“Let go baby, I can feel you clenching around me” exclaimed Aemond, as he moved to the other breast and lavished it with the same attention.

“AEMOND” screamed Jacaella her vision going white as she came around his cock.

 Her husband pulled her too him and then rolled her back onto the bed his cock never leaving her warmth as he pounded into her, her legs wrapped around his waist, trapping his body against hers as he chased his own end.

“Gods Ella-my Ella” groaned Aemond as he exploded. His cock throbbing and twitching as he finally spilled his seed, collapsing on top of his wife, breathing hard.

It took a good while for Aemond to regain his senses.

Meanwhile his wife was laid underneath him completely blissed out. Her heart pounding in her chest.

“I love you ābrazȳrys-never forget that” (Wife).

Afterwards, as they lay together in the quiet of their chambers, the air heavy with the aftermath of their shared intimacy.

Aemond held Jacaella close, his arms wrapped around her as if he could protect her from the world outside.

"What are we going to do now?" Jacaella whispered, her voice trembling with fear and uncertainty. "I'm scared, Aemond. Scared of the war that's coming, of the losses we will no doubt endure."

Aemond pressed a kiss to her forehead, his heart aching with the weight of her words. He held her tighter, as if trying to shield her from the harsh realities they faced.

"We will leave," he said quietly, his voice steady despite the turmoil within him. "We will take Rhaegar, and we will fly across the Narrow Sea. Far away from this war."

Jacaella lifted her head to look at him, her eyes searching his face for any hint of doubt or hesitation. "But your duty-”she began, her voice faltering.

Aemond shook his head, his gaze unwavering. "I made a mistake before," he admitted, his voice tinged with regret. "I put my duty ahead of what was truly important— you and Rhaegar. But not anymore. You are all that matters to me, Jacaella. I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe."

Tears welled up in Jacaella's eyes, overwhelmed by the depth of his love and his determination to protect their family. She buried her face in his chest, clinging to him as if he were her anchor in a storm-tossed sea.

"Can we truly leave everything behind?" she asked softly, her voice muffled against his chest.

Aemond held her close, his fingers gently stroking her hair. "We can," he reassured her, his voice filled with quiet conviction. "We will find a place where we can start anew, away from the shadows of our past. I promise you”

"What will our absence mean for the war?" she asked quietly, her voice tinged with concern.

Aemond sighed heavily, the weight of responsibility pressing down on him once more. He held Jacaella closer, as if drawing strength from her presence.

"The only thing keeping Rhaenyra and Daemon at bay is you and Vhagar," he admitted, his voice low and resigned. "Once we are no longer here, they will likely seize their chance to take King's Landing."

Jacaella's eyes widened with realization, the gravity of their departure sinking in. "And what about your mother, Aegon, Helaena, and their children?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aemond hesitated, his jaw tightening with a mixture of hope and fear. "With any luck," he murmured, "Your mother will be merciful and spare them-”

He brushed a strand of hair away from Jacaella's face, his touch gentle despite the turmoil within him. "But those who committed treason, my grandsire, Tyland, Jasper, Larys-" he continued, his voice hardening slightly, "They will not be spared. I know that-”

Jacaella's voice quivered as she voiced her deepest fear. "What if my mother seizes the throne and sends people after us demanding your head in retribution for what happened with Luke?"

Aemond's heart sank at the thought, but he met her gaze with unwavering determination. "If it comes to that, if giving my life ensures your safety and Rhaegar's future, then I will gladly meet the Stranger," he replied solemnly. "I have made many mistakes, but I will not shy away from the consequences."

Tears welled in Jacaella's eyes as she shook her head, her hands clutching at his shoulders. "No, Aemond," she pleaded, her voice breaking with emotion. "I won't allow your death. Leaving isn't just about keeping me and Rhaegar safe. It's about protecting you too."

Aemond's brow furrowed with concern. "Jacaella, if it means sparing you and our son from harm—"

"No," she interrupted firmly, her voice trembling with resolve. "I cannot lose you. Not like this."

They held each other tightly, the weight of their conversation hanging heavy between them. Aemond's heart ached with the knowledge of the pain he had caused her, the wounds he had inflicted upon their family. He buried his face in her hair, his voice muffled but earnest. "I am so sorry, Jacaella. For everything."

She held him close, her fingers running through his hair as she struggled to find the right words. "I know," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "And maybe, in time, I will forgive you for what happened. But I will never forget."

Aemond nodded, his throat tight with unshed tears. He kissed her forehead gently, a silent promise to do everything in his power to make amends. "I will spend the rest of my life trying to make things right," he vowed quietly. "For you, for Rhaegar, for our family."

Aemond stood at the edge of King's Landing with Jacaella and Rhaegar beside him, Vhagar and Cannibal looming large behind them. His gaze swept over the city one last time, a mixture of nostalgia and resolve tightening his jaw.

He slowly lifted Rhaegar into his arms, the weight of his son grounding him amidst the tumultuous emotion swirling within him.

Rhaegar looked up at him with wide eyes, sensing the gravity of their departure. Aemond kissed his forehead gently before ascending the rope ladder attached to Vhagar's saddle.

As he settled into the saddle, securing the riding chains around himself and Rhaegar, Aemond glanced over at Jacaella. She was already mounted on Cannibal, her posture proud yet tinged with sadness. For a fleeting moment, a pang of regret over leaving their home behind tugged at Aemond's heart. But he pushed it aside with conviction.

This was the right thing to do. For Jacaella, for Rhaegar, for their family's safety and future.

He met Jacaella's gaze across the space between their dragons, offering her a reassuring nod. She returned it with a determined look of her own, her resolve mirroring his.

Together, they were embarking on a journey into the unknown, but they were united in purpose.

Aemond took a deep breath, his hands steady on the reins of Vhagar. With a spoken command, the great dragon spread her wings, lifting them into the sky, with Cannibal following suit, their powerful wings beating rhythmically against the air.

As Vhagar soared through the skies away from King's Landing, Aemond felt the wind rush past him, carrying with it a sense of both relief and uncertainty.

Then, amidst the sound of the wind and the beating of dragon wings, another roar echoed through the air—a familiar, unexpected sound. Aemond's eye widened in surprise as he turned to see Dreamfyre approaching, her majestic form cutting through the clouds.

Strapped into Dreamfyre's saddle was his sister Helaena, and in front of her, squashed together but laughing, were her three children.

"Helaena-what?" Aemond called out, a mixture of shock and concern in his voice.

Helaena looked over at him with a serene smile, her eyes reflecting a newfound sense of freedom. "Jacaella" she replied simply, her voice carrying over the rush of the wind.

Aemond's heart swelled with gratitude and admiration for his wife. In that moment, he realized that Jacaella had not only secured their own escape but had also ensured Helaena's happiness and the safety of her children.

Aside from Jacaella and Rhaegar, Helaena and her little ones were the only other truly innocent souls in their Targaryen family.

A sense of peace settled over Aemond as he looked at Helaena and her children, their laughter ringing out in the sky. He had always felt a protective instinct towards his sweet sister, knowing the hardships she had endured within the confines of the Red Keep.

Now, she was finally free to live a life away from the politics and dangers that had plagued their family.

With a nod of gratitude towards Jacaella, Aemond turned his focus back to the horizon ahead. They were embarking on a journey into the unknown, but they were united, bound by love and a shared desire for a new beginning.

As the dragons continued to carry them away from the troubles of Westeros, Aemond felt a glimmer of hope that they might find a place where they could all truly belong, where their dragons could roam freely and their family could finally thrive in peace.

The End.

[eldritch-spouse]

https://www.tumblr.com/eldritch-spouse/746604785112940545/how-would-the-tce-boys-hold-up-in-a-zombie

The Morell one unsettled me fr fr 💀

I like to imagine meeting Santi in a zombie apocalypse though. You aren’t sure of him at first but then you get cornered by some zombies and after he helps you out you accept his offer

Out of all the things you expected to find in the midst of a zombie apocalypse, an incubus is the last one.

Since their method of feeding involves being so close to others, and body fluids, they were a major factor in the propagation of the infection, and also some of the first to succumb to it.

So really, your poor brain is doing cartwheels in your skull trying to understand how not only did you spot a living high-ranking incubus, but said demon also saved you from a considerable horde of zombies.

Santi, he introduced himself as soon as the two of you aren't covered in rotten blood, and he was clearly malnourished. Dim eyes, bags under them and somewhat gaunt cheeks, a sickly sort of hue to his skin. His smile had too much teeth to it and his gaze was too predatory no matter how hard he tried to conceal it.

The demon would try to act charming, but the hunger merely being near you would induce had him snorting at the air and salivating as if you were seasoned steak on a platter. You knew what he wanted, just as you do now. Even if Santi had tried to be gentlemanly and claim that he helped you without expecting anything in return, it was no secret those words were only meant to endear him to you enough to consider sex.

He must be too weakened to be using pheromones, because you only ever experience small waves of arousal next to him. They last little and can be ignored with some effort. His mostly futile and tentative attempts to be subtle, to coax you, ruined by his instinctive anticipation.

You knew one day he could just decide to throw you to the ground and fuck the daylights out of you. That he was dangerous, less so than the zombies, but there was still the fear that he would savagely hurt you in his hunger.

Nights ago, you woke up with the sound of him tearing wildy into a group of zombies, frustrated by the inability to gain minimal energy from using their bodies. You think you might have heard him sob then, and in that moment, you could only imagine how such constant starvation must be driving him insane.

He can die soon.

Because, while you can find a can of beans somewhere and be satisfied for a while, Santi can only do the human equivalent of scraping the hints of sugar off candy wrapper.

And that thought scared you immensely. The incubus had been your most reliable source of protection thus far, losing him would mean going back to that permanent dread, that hopelessness, the slow madness of being alone for extended periods of time. But every single day, your hellish guardian grew weaker.

And a part of you thinks the incubus might be fond of you, to not just outright assault you and keep denying his survival drives.

More than merely fond, but that's a can of worms neither of you want to open.

Tonight, you've been awoken again.

The sensation of something wet trailing bare skin had you shivering to awareness, and now you're face to face with the demon. His tongue drooling across your inner thigh, eyes glazed, sweat glistening on his face and a fat cock throbbing between taught legs.

" Please... " He begged, long devoid of any attempt to charm. " Please... "

And it'd be selfish of you not to, right?

He saved your life.

You should save his.

[genderfluid-insomniac]

“Poor Unfortunate Soul Reprise” octopus hybrid!Scaramouche x reader nsfw

A/N: picture for reference of Cecaelia the actual term for the myth being (male reference). Sorry this took so long it was collecting dust in my folder for a while due to cliche AO3 author shit but I hope you enjoy!

You couldn’t tell how much time has passed but what you do know is you’re sore like you’ve been hit by a truck, stirring awake enough to feel someone cradling you in their arms and tiny waves of water lapping at your shins. The cool temperature of the water shook your sleep logged mind enough to register that you were still naked and tried to sink deeper into your sleeping companions body warmth.

It was very dark but a small dark red light illuminated the cavern softly, allowing you to see you were in Scaramouche’s more private habitat where no one could see him unless a diver swam into it. Which rarely happened since the last person who tried it ended up with a broken arm and a 4 week recovery period, a silent message from the Cecaelia. “Keep out pathetic weaklings.”

Scaramouche had pale as snow skin like he’d rarely been in the sun for longer than a couple minutes and mix of blues and purples coloring his ear that took on a more webbed fin like appearance. Bits of vibrantly sparkly lavender scales scattering his body from the waist up, giving more of a divine appearance compared to his sharjjp fowl mouth. His tentacles were twitching ever so slightly and almost blending into dark waters, their mass made up of entirely muscles reminding you of their power. A face so gorgeous looking like it was sculpted by the gods or some heavenly being designed to lure people into a sense of calm. Short silky smooth dark violet blue hair with messy cut bangs framing his youthful face and thin but longer hair falling down this back swaying on the surface of the water. Speak of the devil or sea witch rather.

Cecaelia. A term your superiors had found after scouring the library and internet for answers. Happening upon the very name for a being that had the upper of half of a human and the lower half (usually at the waist or hips) of an octopus. They apparently have others unknown abilities being to said to take ‘a form of mermaid or sea demon’ and most often ‘combining the head, arms and torso of a woman (more rarely a man)’.

He could feel you squirming as you woke and chose to leave you to your devices, only worming his tentacles around you for a better grasp and settling his pet into a more comfortable position as you both came to. “Good morning, pet. I can see you had a nice nap.” Scaramouche chuckled to himself as his eyes flicked over every mark adorning your body and wrapping his arms around your waist to bring you closer. “I hope you aren’t too sore Name because I have plans for you but for now rest up.” Kissing gently on your lips and hoping you weren’t too cold or the effects of his blood hadn’t faded.

You hummed in satisfaction and fully relaxed, murmuring a “thank you” before succumbing to the fatigue pulling at your eyelids and leaning into your dear companion. A talk about what your relationship was could be had at a later time. Dreams slowly passed your mind and occupied your attention, provoking thoughts gaining your attention; such as how were you supposed to go back to your job after this happened? Did he like you more than just a one night stand? Well, the way he spoke didn’t seem like he planned on giving you up nor like things would go back to normal. ‘I hope you aren’t too sore Name because I have plans for you but for now rest up.’ Hm.

The stress from all your questions wouldn’t allow you to sleep soundly and ended up waking up anyway, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and stretching. Your head turned to Scara and nudged your head under his chin to wake him up. “Scara I need to talk to you about what the fuck is going to happen after this….thing.” Laughter filled the small cave and bounced off the walls, his arms moved you so you faced him. “And what would you like to talk about, love?” You sucked in a breath and rethought what you wanted to say, “First what are we in terms of our relationship? Second, what plans do you have for me? Three-”

You remember reading some of the documents given to the staff of the mythology and one of the sections was about reproduction or theorized romantic relationships. It was said that cecaelias are likely to mate for life or until one of them reaches death and are loyal to the end when the find the one they love. That couldn’t be what he felt for you right? He did seem seriously about his feelings, not to mention the clear favoritism he held for you as you both grew to become familiar with another.

A feeler covered your mouth before you could finish your sentence and wouldn’t move when you tried pulling it away, glaring at the person responsible. “Don’t look at me. You were the one who was talking too fast for me to understand… hahaha but alright. To answer your first question, I thought I made myself clear. You’re mine now and until I decide so, pet. For the second question, you’re going to help me out of this damn prison and back to your house.” To say you were stunned was an understatement, starting to spew worries about your job and him getting hurt but it was of course muffled by one of his arms gagging your mouth.

“I know, I know. ugh, you humans and your meaningless worries. I assume your anxious about getting fired or in trouble.” His hand stroked your hair soothingly in an attempt to calm you and removed his tentacle so you could speak. You nodded and chose to say nothing about the worry of him getting hurt since all it would do is inflate his ego. “Alright thank you for clarifying but how the fuck am I supposed sneak you out. You’re enormous and I don’t think you can survive on land for long periods of time.”

The violet haired being rolled his eyes and told you you had nothing to worry about, just rely on him and after hours cut the power entirely. Help get Scaramouche get out to your car and then turn it back on so the other animals would be okay but it would seem as if it was simply a power outage. You hesitated but agreed after he told you if you did get caught then he’d take the entire blame and punishment, insisting that it wouldn’t come to that. “Alright, but what time is it?” One of his purple slimy arms pulled a watch from a small crack in the wall next to the light and examined it. “6am. As much as I would love to keep you here, you have work and I have breakfast to eat.”

Right. Work. You hoped it was a relatively low maintenance day and saw your still dampened clothes being handed to you, thanking your now boyfriend and standing on the dryer platform to put your clothes back on. “I just remembered that I have to swim back up to to surface which means my work clothes will get wet. Well, I suppose it was worth it-” A feeler curled its way around your ankle tightly and squeezed, “You suppose?! Ugh, it looks like I didn’t fuck you hard enough did I? Or maybe you’re daring me to test my own stamina like the brat you are.” You scoffed and finished buttoning up your shirt, getting back into the water. Slapping the arm still stuck to your ankle lightly and kissed his cheek, enjoying the light pink flush filling his cheeks and grinning at your small success of making him flustered.

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. You’ll have to find out. Now, if you want to leave with me tonight then help me get out of here because I don’t know if any security is patrolling this area.” Scaramouche shook his head to get focused again and slipped under the water to check, quickly coming back up to let you know it was all clear. You took a deep breath and sunk underneath the water. The trip to the top of the tank was fast, much faster than if you swam on your own. Fresh air filling your lungs and pulling yourself onto the platform for the trainers, climbing up the ladder and reaching for a towel by a bench with supplies.

Hearing him cough for attention, you went over to fridge and pulled out a sizable part of bass that was already prepared. “Don’t think I forgot about you, discount ursula.” Throwing it to the hybrid and ignoring the glare he sent your way for the insulting nickname, muttering something about being better than whoever this ursula person was. “I must’ve done something right to receive more food than usual. Seems like should keep testing your limits.” He smirked as you muttered curses in anger at him and walked off to change clothes, admiring the visible marks he had left last night and swimming down to enjoy the alone he had before the building opened.

You wandered into the employees only section where the uniforms were kept whenever volunteers would sign up and pulled out your size, changing into them and using your towel to dry your hair. It was still early and you hadn’t had anything to eat so you went to the cafeteria usually meant for customers. Checking the schedule to see which area you’d be covering today and were shocked to see you’d be in charge of Scaramouche’s tank with another person since it was a two person job. “Oh guess I won’t have to stray far from him. Wait this means he won’t bother to hide much since he’ll probably want to torment me more and that means a bigger crowd.”

Grabbing a scone and coffee quickly before heading back up to grab your phone, headphones, and employee badge. You texted your coworker that you had come early and that you were both on cecaelia duty, laughing at the comment Alex made about work being cut out for you both. Well, they weren’t wrong but for you it was for different reasons and went to space in front of his tank to tell him the news. The gate to the employees area unclipped as you got behind the metal railing and pressed a button that was connected so a waterproof speak in the water.

“Scaramouche. I’m going to be working with you today.” Keeping the call button on so he could hear the outside and struggling to keep your chuckling visible when you saw the hybrid swim down so quickly, scaring off a bunch of fish and receiving a hiss from a algae green large moray eel. A small but noticeable smile spread across his face before it disappeared as soon as it appeared most likely to keep up his ‘I don’t care and I hate you all’ act. “Oh! And Alex is working with me too.” He looked visibly displeased and went to swim away before you spoke again. “Wait, regardless I’m going to stay with you. Would you rather me work in another part of the building cause I can make that happen?” You didn’t know if you could but the threat was clear and he gave you an angry look, not saying anything but not disagree either. “That’s what I thought.”

He pressed a hand against the thick glass and only looked at you, what you wouldn’t give to see what was going on in his mind. Pressing your own hand against the glass and smiling, asking him through the intercom if he had a way to get out of the tank. Scaramouche nodded and continued to “talk” with you, on occasion making rude gestures whenever you teased him or caught his soft emotional looks (even if it only happened once in a blue moon). “Name! Hey- Oh Woah! The spitfire legend is out!” Alex jogged over to you and got behind the gate as well, admiring him closely since it was rare to see him out in the open and this close to the glass on his own free will.

“Wow! He’s more beautiful than I thought. What did you do to get him out?” You laughed at their fixed gaze on Scaramouche who clearly was not pleased with the attention solely on him and feigned ignorance. “I don’t know, I just got hear and made my rounds only to see him out.” They laughed and pushed your playfully, “Yeah right. Everyone knows he like you more than anyone here, not to mention you explicitly tell others how not to piss him off. Do you know how many accidents you’ve prevented?” As if to spite you, your lover turned to face you and crossed his arms with a raised eyebrow. Your coworker pointing it out “See even he agrees!” The three of you talked (your beloved nodding or making gestures) as the morning went on slowly, dreading the rush hours and helping people out with directions if they needed it.

Everything was going great and shockingly calm until a swarm of people flooded into the room.

About 25 or 30 people ran up to the metal railing, sending the octopus reeling back in shock and swimming to hide behind a bolder nearby. You and Alex answered the questions you got about the tank’s inhabitant and occasionally checking in on Scaramouche to make sure he was okay. This went well until I very angry mother stormed up you specifically and started screaming at you. “Make him come out!” You flinched at the volume and backed up “Excuse me?”

“Get that thing out so my kid can see him! He’s not doing anything so get him out into the open!” You turned to Alex who gave you a look if you needed help but you shook your head, focusing your attention back on the karen. “I’m sorry but Scaramouche is a cecaelia, not a thing, and second he isn’t fond of crowds so I’m forcing him to out.” What you said only seemed to anger her more and she got face to face with you. “I’ve seen others use cattle prods on him to get him out but you’re telling me there’s nothing you can do?!”

You nod firmly and stand your ground. In no way were you going to hurt Scaramouche even before you knew him or got into a relationship. You would never hurt an animal or any creature. “No, ma’am-” “MA’AM” Interrupting her again you continued, “I refuse to use those things. Now, do I need to call security?” The room was quiet before a loud slap could be heard and you felt her palm hit your face, an audible gasp fall over the crowd and they all stood in silence for a slip second before movement could be heard behind you. Scaramouche who’d been watching (and hearing) the whole ordeal closely and already pissed at this vile woman for yelling at you didn’t bother to control himself when he acted automatically upon seeing you get slapped.

Swimming as fast as possible behind you and flaring his lower half to make himself look bigger than he already was, his tentacles spread out and pressed against the glass. The hybrid would’ve beaten your assaulter had the glass not been in his way and inches thick. His fist banged on the glass to get her attention and gave her a death stare, surely given off how infuriated she’d made him. The woman was to scared to speak, fear overtaking her expression and shaking where she stood. Good. She knew she made a grave mistake and he sharpened his glare, baring his teeth and slamming his fist against the glass. “Run.” Even if he couldn’t be heard, the message was clear. The disgusting trash took of running, her child who apologised profusely to you yelling insults at their mother.

Scaramouche’s eyes remained on yours as he watched and heard several things happen. Alex called security and told them what happened (also to ban the woman specifically from the aquarium and not her kid). Concerned parents and kids asking if you were alright, something his heart warmed at. ‘Maybe not all humans were cruel’ He thought, you and two others from his past were evidence it was true. Finally gaining your attention and hearing you whisper into the radio. “I’m alright, Scara. It doesn’t hurt much, just stings.” Reluctantly, he nodded and stayed at the front of the glass in case something else happened, using his scary and fierce reactions to his advantage if any issues occured.

You could see the concern on his face and breathed a sigh of relief when he didn’t retreat back to the bolder, not that you expected to after that. He could indeed be terrifying when he wanted to be, seeing the speed he moved at from the corner of your eye and how intimidatingly big he made himself seem in response. A response your heart couldn’t help but leap at the protection he gave you even from the other side of a thick transparent wall. “Thank you.” Alex had checked back and examined your cheek after coming back from dealing with the woman. “Are you okay? That’s a stupid question- you just got slapped. She’s gone and not coming back ever.” Their gaze flickered over to the guarded cecaelia still right behind their coworker.

“Thank you, Scaramouche. You’re getting a special dinner for that.” He nodded and glared off to where the woman left, seemingly still peeved at her. “Hey, she’s not coming back she’s banned. You did a good job scaring her off.” These words were all it took for him to calm down at least visibly and turn his attention back to you, lifting a tendril to the glass next to you. Things calmed down and the crowd spoke their apologies incase they had help instigate altercation. A small voice made themselves known as they politely asked others to move aside and stepped up to the railing so they were standing on the lowest rung. “Excuse me? I hope you’re okay! That woman is a nasty meanie. Klee drew this for mister Scaramouche since he reminds me of a prince.”

A small girl maybe 7 or 8 years old with blond hair pulled into pigtails and fiery ruby red eyes handed you a paper depicting a kid’s drawing of the mythical being. He was frowning but wearing a simply drawn crown standing in front of a castle under the ocean, it was clear she took pride in it. You smiled at her and turned partially to show the muse of her art. “Hey, Scara. Klee drew this for you, you like it?” Scaramouche skeptically looked at the drawing and nodded whilst mumbling something that you could guess was a half hearted compliment. You could see the flustered expression on his face as he tried to not show how much he liked it and turned back to Klee to give her art back to her. “Oh. I want him to keep it. I have tons of drawing at home just like that. Thank you Mx Name!”

She waved goodbye to you and Scaramouche who also waved back with a smirk now realizing how many people probably thought the same (not like they could compete with his new favorite kid). “Mommy! The pretty octopus boy liked my picture! I can’t wait to tell big brother Albedo!” “I saw, mama’s so proud. I got a picture you can show him.” You watched as the blond pair walked off to another room, one practically bouncing off the walls and the other calmly intertwining her hands. The day went on significantly more smoothly and nothing else major happened, your lover hadn’t left your side for one second as the day eventually ended and your coworker said goodbye as their shift ended.

It was around closing time when you were preparing dinner for Scaramouche and chatting while he was lounging on the sunken platform. “I’m telling you the plan will go smoothly so stop worrying about. I see your stupid mind whirling away like diver lost in an underwater cave.” You continued to cut the slices of different fish onto a plate with some greens and freshly washed vegetables, taking what he said to heart and hoping it would all go according to plan. “Are you sure you want to leave? I don’t know if you’ll be able to go outside what with people knowing what you look like-”

“After what happened today?! You only got hurt because of me and the crowd I was drawing so that should answer your question. It isn’t the first worthless humans treated you rudely either. Why would I want to go out when you’re all I need?” You reminded him that you’ll still need to work and probably more hours since you’d now be providing for two people to which he countered that he’d get a job after retrieving his identification files. “You’re what now?!” He looked at you like you had two heads and laughed. “What do you think I don’t exist? I have a birth certificate and everything…granted they’re mostly fake but they do work.”

Clearly you were stunned and had several questions but guessed you wouldn’t get an answer out him. “You gonna tell me?” Scaramouche shook his head and grinned smugly, resting his head against his palm. “In time, but firstly dinner then get another set of clothes around your size. After pull your car around the closest back exit and turn off the power. No one should be here anyone since it’s sunday and everyone went home early.” Agreeing you set his dinner down before getting a extra pair of clothes (for who? you couldn’t figure out) and grabbed your bag and keys, heading out to your car. You pulled into the back entrance where the animals usually get transported into the facility and began to lock up all the door, going off your mental checklist when you normally closed.

Heading the main power switch, you took a hold of it and turned it off. Switching on your phone light and running towards Scaramouche, you skipped steps to get to the top faster and went to call out to him only to stop short. There before you was your lover dressed in the employee clothes you left him with but on two legs instead of his octopus half with all eight tentacles. “How-” He ran or rather tried to but ended up wobbling towards you and nearly falling to the ground. “There’s no time to explain. Help me, I haven’t been in this form for a long time.” You did as you were told and slung an arm over your shoulder, carefully walking down the steps and helping him stand like you would with someone relearning how to walk after an accident. Even after turning the power on you’d have a around 15 minutes before they were active again and that was all you needed.

“Turn the power back on. It’s the big green button at the top. I would do it but I’m holding you.” Scaramouche pushed it and the light flickered back on, trying his best to walk after years of not using his legs. You finally got to your car after a minute of reaching the transport bay and got him into the passenger's seat, closing the door and running over to the drivers side. The car turned on and you swiftly drove out of there, telling siri to set a reminder to text your boss that you’d be taking a few days off because of a sudden family emergency and the incident that happened today. The sound of the radio and running engine filling your ears, looking briefly over to your companion who seemed enamored with the sights passing your car.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen the outside. Thank you, Name.” The light ahead of you turned red and you stopped which gave you time to turn your attention back to him. “Scara. Explaination. Now!” He rolled his eyes and continued to look out the window, speaking after a couple seconds seemingly in thought. “I’ve always had the ability to grow legs but as you can see some of my scales remain visible. They could just be attributed to makeup or a tattoo but they’re still there.” His head turned so you could see the lavender scales like marks on the corner of his cheeks and collar bones when he unbutton the top of his shirt. They did look like he could pass them off as not being real. “But if you could escape before. Why did you wait that long? You had plenty of chances before.”

He took in a breath carefully and kept his gaze on the now passing environment as you started driving again, look at you. “I met you. I was going to leave, I had a plan and everything but then you wormed your way into my heart and made me care. So, I stayed and put up with it all, waiting for the chance to maybe get out with you.” Scaramouche’s small speech left you stunned in silence and honored that you’d left such an impression, muttering a grateful response and remaining silent as you returned home. You lived in a relatively small area but not in the middle of nowhere and only 20 minutes from the aquarium just at the entrance to a small wooded area but off the coast near the ocean.

A large river that connected to the ocean flowed next your cottage down the hill which you figured could be a good place if Scaramouche ever wanted to relax in his octopus form or swim with you in the warmer days. It was roughly 25 feet deep and was mainly saltwater with little freshwater home to some birds and small sea life. The trees surrounding your home kept you sheltered from major storms while still allowing a great view for lightning over the sea. You pulled into the driveway and got out with your bag, moving to help the now humanish cecaelia who you guessed had been flexing his muscles as he was now roughly standing with his on your car. “Let’s get inside, I can cook dinner while you can into more comfortable clothes.”

Your home was more comfy than Scaramouche would’ve guessed with fluffy blankets covering part of a leather brown couch and brick fireplace neatly cleaned of ash. Pictures decorated the wall of your friends and family he surmised and rustic decor could be found all around your living room, following you to your bedroom after he wiped his feet and being handed some soft loungewear. “Here you can change into that and I’ll cook some dinner. Feel free to wander about.” Leaving him to change, you grabbed a set of sweatpants and sweatshirt to change into in the bathroom. You mulled over your thoughts after everything that had happened today, how your life had changed significantly and hopefully for the better.

The warm cotton fabric acted as a comforting shield from the cold air seeping in through the window and tickling your ear as if to whisper your unconscious thoughts to you even if you couldn’t understand them. DING! A notification from your phone brought you out of your thoughts and brought you back to the present, slipping your hand into your fleece pocket to retrieve your phone. It was the reminder you set when you both were in the car to text your boss and coworker, heading out of the bathroom and to the kitchen to make some quick dinner. You texted your boss and coworker the same thing, how you would be taking a few days off because of “family emergencies” and your mental health. Which wasn’t entirely false but a little white lie couldn’t hurt.

“It’d take too long to fully cook something and ordering take is expensive so it looks like I’ll just throw a frozen pizza in the oven for tonight. I can go shopping tomorrow,” Opening the freezer drawn and grabbing a recently bought frozen flatbread with your favorite toppings. It was supposed to be a treat for a self care night but this could count as such too. You set the oven to the correct temperature and put the pizza in so it would cook as the machine preheated. “Hey Siri, set a timer for 15 minutes.” The AI did as it was told and you went to call out to your new roommate and lover only to see he was leaning on the jamb of the doorway. In his hands was the rest of his long hair and scissors, where the ponytail began now roughly cut off so it formed almost a wolf cut.

Scaramouche walked over and put the scissors down, “Like my new look? I figure it’d be easier to take care of and I’ve been wanting to cut for a while. Where is your trash?” You pointed to your garbage can camouflaged like all the other drawers and continued to stare. “Are you sure? I mean you look great but-” The short haired man nodded and tossed the length of hair in the trash shutting the lid before falling into your embrace. Nuzzling his head into your neck and placing small kisses, taking your hands in his and leading them up to the sides of his face. You wove your fingers through the violet hair, untangling any knots and sighing deeply to rid of your anxious worries.

“What’s wrong?” It was obvious something was bothering you and he couldn’t blame you. Your life had changed so much in the past 24 hours and you had still yet to adjust to it; he’d do his best to be a constant variable. “I- I’m just worried about everything. What if you get caught? What if this is only temporary?” Silence hung in the air as you both waited for an answer, the fear of their unknown future looming over you like a remind of the big decision you’d made. His grip on your got tighter and he rested his forehead against yours, kissing your lips softly. “If this is temporary then I’ll enjoy it till the moment it’s over. I won’t get caught, I’ve been wandering alone for a while before they caught me. I have experience on my side.”

That was a promise. He’d never let anyone take him from you, not after his friend was killed because of him and not after the little boy died in his arms. You were his new hope. A ball of light untouched by his past mistakes and he intended to keep it safe. Keep you safe. “Don’t worry, Name. This will all work out.” Unfurling himself from the hug and rubbing comforting circles with his thumb on your cheek, whispering affirmations and promises that no measly human could tear either of you apart. You felt better and relaxed, it was new territory which was always scary but you had Scaramouche with you. RING! RING! The timer on your phone went off and made you jump at the sudden noise, catching a small flinch from your significant other as well. “I made pizza for dinner. You can have some even though you already ate, Scara.”

The hybrid looked pleased and nodded, searching through all of your cabinets and drawers until he at last found the plates. Taking two out and grabbing a slice after you’d cut it, you could hear his quiet curses when he grabbed the hot pizza. “Be careful. It just came out, I don’t want to bandage you so soon.” You felt like you were reminding a child the basics of living and safety, assuming that it was probably years since he was last in a house with working appliances and you’d have to remind him until it became a habit for him. The hot marinara sauce hit your tongue as you bit into the pizza and perfectly cooked cheese pulling apart messily, using your finger to tug the long string of cheddar apart so it didn’t become a piece of spaghetti. At long last being able to eat something solid and filling felt like heaven after the exhausting hours of work, secretly eyeing Scaramouche to see if he liked it.

A satisfied hum came from him and he was focused on eating something that must’ve been a lot better after eating nothing but raw fish for meals. Plans had started forming in your mind for other delicious meals for him to enjoy and restaurants you could go on dates to. Once things settled down and you both could back to work, finding a job for Scaramouche and you going back to work, you both could enjoy the more fun things in life like going on dates and waking up together. You should take a bath after the stress of today and working among sea life would cause you to smell a bit salty or fishy, “I’m going to take a bath after this. It should only take-” “Can I join you?”

You swallowed the piece of food in your mouth and turned to him, “What!?” He shrugged and returned back to eating, continuing the talk to you, “I want to wash my hair and body after being in a saltwater tank for a few years. Can you blame me? Wait- are you embarrassed?” The flustered expression you was the only answer he needed and laughed at the sudden silence coming from you. “Fuck you totally are. What, it’s not like we haven’t seen each other naked or do I need to remind you how good I made you feel?” You stood up and washed your plate, deeming that you were full from dinner and putting the rest of the pizza into the over so it would stay warm. The hybrid’s laughter could be heard even after you went into the bathroom and turned the faucet on to your jacuzzi tub, something you’d spent a decent amount of money on because of nice it was to use.

“Damn fucking asshole. He’s too attractive for his own good and he knows it.” He knew how to push your buttons so you’d react accordingly and remain entertained based on your reactions, happily watching you squirm under his gaze. Grabbing some soap to make bubbles and testing the temperature of the water to make sure it wasn’t too hot or cold. You looked back to the door that was slightly ajar and undressed, putting your clothes on the counter and sighing joyously when you sunk into the warm water. “So much better.” Muttering to yourself and slipping underneath the surface to soak your hair. The door creaked open and your lover strolled casually in, blatantly admiring your figure through the light sheen of bubbles. “Shit. You really do things to me, beloved. I’m going to join you.”

You went to argue when he countered you never said no to him and allowed him to undress, averting your eyes with a light blush on your cheeks and gaining a response from the other. “Aw, you’re still so shy. Look at me. Look at me, Name.” Holding your face and moving so you had no choice but to see him bare before you. Unable to stop yourself from staring at his toned muscles and light scarring all over his body, your eyes traveling down to his v-line and hard erect cock. “Good baby. Hm, I can’t wait to fuck you so hard you only remember my name.” He got into the tub and relaxed his body, seemingly concentrating on something before you saw his lower half shifting and changing color. Below his waist his skin turned a dark violet and scales became more pronounced, an ink like dark cloud covered the water and nine tentacles formed where his legs used to be.

Some of them spilled over the tub and others lay floating on the surface, “Ah~ so much better. I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I had a hot bath.” He eyed you up and down, extending his arms opening and made a “come ’ere” motion. Soft cool tendrils circled your thighs and moved you to his lap, curling themselves around you. You hands made their way to the back of his hair and gripped it, playing with the messy cut strands and frowning a bit. “I miss your long hair, it looked pretty and I could’ve used it to pull you back into a kiss. Too bad it’s short know.” Absentmindedly playing with his hair until his hand was against yours, “You can still pull it see?”

His eyes daring you to pull at it and your fingers tightened around his roots, pulling lightly and getting an delightful moan. “Well maybe I should do that again.” You did it again and received the same reaction, his head was tilted back and mouth ajar with arms closing tighter and tighter around you. His tendrils crept towards your clit and breasts, all too eager to mark you up for all to see and know you’re his. “I’m going to breed you. I’m going to fuck you so much that you’ll be the parent to our kids. What do you say, huh?” Nodding slowly you kissed him and gasped when cold tentacles circled your clit and sucks teasing your most sensitive areas. Wetting your nipples and further fondling your pussy.

He broke the kiss and nipped your neck, licking the bruises he left and aiming to make more. Scaramouche wouldn’t be satisfied until your entire body was littered in hickeys and marks from his suckers. “Fuck me. Scara please fuck me.” You just wanted him to bury his cock inside your cunt and pounding away at your cervix. Anything besides the lack of friction being given to you right now. You’d beg. What you would give to be on your knees sucking his dick and being overstimulated till your knees gave out. “Since you asked so nicely pet. I won’t make you beg even though it’s very arousing and only strengthens my desire to make you cum your brains out.”

He lifted you up above his face and smirked, licking a stripe up your pussy and blew cool air against it. “Hm, maybe I should overstimulate you till you can’t orgasm. How about that?” Returning to kissing your wet cunt and thumbing off your arousal fluid, pressing the tip of his thumb on your bottom lip. You tongue poked out and tasting yourself in your mouth. Two of his tendrils snaked their way up your body and wrapped around your waist, the other one prodding your gaped puffy lips and pushing it way inside. “Mhm~” Going to move your arms but failing to and feeling two other tentacles binding your hand together, making you subject to your boyfriend’s will.

The tentacle occupying you mouth steadily moved back and forth, reaching the back of your throat and causing you to gag. You suppressed the urge to gag again and moaned when you felt him put pressure on your clit again. Rolling your hips to get more friction, crying out when you felt waves of pleasure wash over you and moaning with his tentacles in your mouth. Scaramouche groaned and laughed a bit, “Hm, you always do such a good job sucking on my cock. Fuck- Keep going, kitten~” Hollowing out your cheeks and running your tongue along the underside it and sucking the tip, briefly being interrupted by harsh thrusts of his tongue against your walls and unable to stop your eyes fluttering shut. You could feel your orgasm was close and kept bobbing your head up and down.

The knot in your abdomen tightening and tightening, your lewd noises getting louder and louder with the hybrid extending his tongue to reach the sweetest spots in your pussy. “Come on. Cum on my tongue and I might just fuck you till the morning sun shines through the window.” Diving back in and fitting his whole mouth around your sopping cunt, wishing that he could’ve done this much sooner had he known you tasted better than his favorite meal. He felt your walls squeeze around his tongue and knew you were getting close to orgasming, something he didn’t get to taste when he was in that “cage”. His finger dipped knuckle deep to furth egg you on and trigger your climax, countless dirty fantasies going through his minds.

“I should have fucked you on my cock right in front of the glass so everyone could see who you belong too. ngh~” That very idea aroused you, clenching the muscles in your legs and desperately trying to push yourself onto his tongue more. “Oh~ You like that? Maybe I should sit you on my dick whenever we go the beach and hide away in the shallow pools. Make to much noise and someone would see.” Muttering praises against your inner thighs and tightening his hold on your thighs, holding them so your couldn’t try to close them even if he head wasn’t in between them and gripping the plush fat of your ass. “But you’d like that wouldn’t you my slutty pet.”

You were sucking his cock so well and feeling him twitch in your mouth, struggling against the arms holding your wrists and thighs together. “Mhm- nghn-” Nodding as best you could while you gave him a blowjob and hearing his smugly laugh, moving at a faster pace. Both of you were close and you felt the knot snap when he bent his fingers, hitting your cervix and harshly sucking your clit. “Ahh~ Scara- ‘m gonna cum” You told him and loudly mewled, the vibrations from your moans lighting the cecaelia’s nerves on fire as it increased the euphoria his cock was getting. “Hm- I- ngh. So am I-” Working you through your orgasm and sinking his fingers into your pussy as you helped him through his own.

Hot white ropes of cum shot out from a slit you had been teasing on his tip and coated your tongue, swallowing it and panting heavily as it dribbled down your tongue. Your moans being heard louder as you became overstimulated and flexing your hands still bound. You looked down and saw Scaramouche lapping up your cum, slick covering his mouth and dripping down his chin. Shuttering when his thumb wiped the excess of his face and licked it up, humming in satisfaction. “Gods you taste divine. Was that fun kitten?” Very tired from your orgasm you shook your head and were lowered back onto his lap, guiding your head into the crook of his next and unbinding your hands so you could hug him. Affectionately pressing kisses on your shoulders and embracing his beloved lovingly, your arms wrapped around his neck and lazily pecking his neck.

Scaramouche pulled back and used two of his fingers to swipe up a bit of you cum from your labia, causing you to whimper slightly from the overstimulation still present and moaning softly. Spreading his fingers to show you the semi transparent fluid and resting them against your bottom lip. “Open up, beloved.” You let your mouth go slack and sucked him clean, tasting yourself as you curled your tongue around his slender pale fingers. A string of saliva connected his fingertips to your lips and broke when he kissed you sweetly, full of love and loyalty just like he’d promised you. His attention turned to you, curling his tendrils around your waist and smiled. “Can you make it one more round, pet? I’d love to feel my cock in your tight wet pussy but if you’re too spent I could always cuddle you into slumber-”

You eagerly responded yes and weakly leaned into him, pressing kisses up his neck and nipping in hopes to mark him so others wouldn’t steal him away from you. “No, I wanna feel your cock inside me. I want people to know that you’re mine but I’m so tired. You’re mine as I’m yours, love. Take me~” Continuing to press open mouthed smooches on his skin and feeling your boyfriend shift under you. The extra tentacles started to retract from below his hips and formed back into his two legs in his human form. Scaramouche taking your chin and tilting your head down to see his more human like dick, the pale girthy shaft with small veins leading up to his rosy mushroom tip twitching and desperate to be touched.

It was already leaking pre-cum and red from the overstimulating blow job you’d given him, “Are you just going to sit there slack jawed or do I have to do all the work myself?” His hand guided yours to his cock and you fingers curled around it, stroking it slowly and coating it in his pre-cum. “Don’t start getting arrogant now. I’ve haven’t touched you and you’re still sensitive~” He glared before smirking at you and rolled his cock against your slit. Kissing his chest and trailing up until you met his lips, rooting your other hand in his smooth violet hair. You lifted yourself with his help and sunk onto his cock. “Fuck. I should’ve done this a lot sooner. You feel so good clenching me- ngh-”

Slowly you rhymically moving up and down, breathing heavily and moaning whenever he bottomed out. Your slick making a white ring around the base of his cock and biting his neck. Feverishly kissing his jawline and rocking your hips in time with his thrusts. “Ah~ Just like that- Keep fucking yourself on my cock! I-” Scaramouche was interrupted when you grabbed his hand and brought it to your next, squeezing his hand in your own. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head when he tightened his grip and chuckled mockingly. “Well well, what a kinky little slut you are. Ngh-”

His dick kissed your cervix as he harshly pounded into your cunt and cut off your air supply. Checking in with you to make sure he wasn’t going to far and pecking your cheek softly when you signal you were alright. “Scara- aHah keep going! I’m close-” “Shit! Me too! ngh~ Guess you riled me up, beloved!” A breathy moan left your mouth and fell against his chest, scratching his back with your nails when the pace got even faster. Pistoning his cock deep into your pussy and feeling like it was splitting you in two. A second later his unoccupied hand crept down to your clit and pinched it sending painful overwhelming pleasure through you.

Your climax hit you like a ton of bricks and made your legs spasm, trembling thighs tensing and crying out in joy. “Cumming!” The hybrid felt your cunt contract around his cock and groaned loudly. “Cumming too!” Feeling warm spurts of his cum fill you and faltering when you both road out your high, collapsed against the rim of the tub. The water mellowed out and stopped splashing about as you panted to regain the lost energy. “Let’s actually get clean because we just dirtied the water” Scaramouche weakly laughed and hugged your closer, “I wouldn’t mind going for a round 3-”

He was cut off by your glare and quickly scooped you into his arms albeit stumbling a bit before getting out, putting you on the cool tile to refill the tub. “I’d say I marked you up quite well, now others will know who you belong to.” Lifting you so you could see your reflection and the countless hickeys and bite marks all over your body. You smiled and nodded, shakily tapping his arm to put you down and using the counter to keep yourself standing. Towels on your nearby shelf were used to dry yourself off and tossed one to Scaramouche He thanked you and wrapped the towel around his waist, grabbing your body and bringing closer to him once again. “Now let’s go to sleep because in morning you’re not leaving my side and I have to thank you for breaking me out~”

“Hm, sounds good.” My bedroom is-” Already out the door and on the way before you realized he knew where it was since you had shown it to him when you both came in. Leaning your head against his bare chest and stretching out when you’re laid down on the soft pale green comforter. You crawled under the covers and snuggled into the soft pillow, letting your muscles go soft and practically fusing yourself to the hybrid’s body. “You comfortable there?” You nonverbally hummed ‘yes’ and tried to embrace him, happy that he wrapped his arms around you. “Now go to sleep, beloved. I’ll be here in the morning.” “Goodnight.” Closing yours eyes and welcoming sleep with open arms, the warmth under the covers mixed with his body heat.

Your dreams consisted of memories from the day and fantasies of days yet to come, swimming deeper and deeper into the sea of your unconscious before the bright rays of the morning sun peaked in through the curtains. A soft groan came from the person beside you and pulled you closer, messily tangling the sheets around your legs which was already intertwined. RING! RING! You shot up briefly at the sudden loud noise coming from your phone and blindly reached your hand at your bedside table until you finally had the vibrating cell phone in your hand. Pressing the answer button and slowly bringing it to your ear, a loud automated voice quickly giving you a message from your workplace.

“Hello… Name. This is the Deepwater Cove Aquarium calling it’s employees to let them know they will have the following week off with paid leave due to a high security inhabitant breaking out and having gone missing. Tell no one about this and keep it within company staff to avoid a mass panic. If you have any questions or concerns please contact head of Human Resources Teresa Merrii. Thank you and goodbye.” ….well that answered the question in the back of your head and you guessed they didn’t have a clue you were behind it.

“Scara.” Shaking his shoulder and attempting to wake him up, only to receive a mumble and pulling at your torso for you to cuddle with him more. “Scaramouche! They know you escaped-” He opened his eyes just a tad and raised an eyebrow, “It was bound to happen eventually and besides they don’t think it’s you so come back to sleep with me.” The cecaelia had a point, you were also on paid leave which you hadn’t expected and might as well make the best of it. Checking your notifications for any major or important messages you should respond to while you were up and saw a text from your coworker telling you ‘I hope you and your family are alright! Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help and we need to talk about the week off from work because what if it’s Scaramouche?!’.

You’d have to give them your thanks, turning your phone off and getting back underneath the blankets, feeling the smooth bits of scales littering his chest and heat radiating off of him. It felt like you were sleeping next to a fire on a cold winter morning and you pulled the covers over your head. “Well, even if they try to find me, they can’t cause I’m free of that prison and at home with my mate-” THAT’S WHAT YOU BOTH WERE?! “We’re just dating scara-” His finger was pressed against your lips. “Yes, my mate. That’s what most cryptids, as you all like to call us, call our significant others and almost all of us mate for life.”

A second passed. You were fairly sure that he was going to live longer than you which didn’t bode well since he seemed very clingy and insistent on you being with him till death. “How long do you live?” Scaramouche pondered and hummed to himself, recalling all the years he’s been alive. “About 36, but “special” beings who are half immortal live about 150 years. Cecaelia fully mature at about 20 years.” Further explaining about how his kind usually took a mate at 30 or so and pinching you playfully when you laughed, commenting on how it fit that he was 6 years “late” on finding a soulmate. “I’m sorry but with your bitchy personality I can see why no one wanted to date you-” He interrupted you with a pinch on your cheek and scowled at your mockery. His arms wrapping even tighter around your torso and guiding you hand to touch a patch of scales on his cheekbone.

“Oh please, that incompetent mermanta ray Childe couldn’t find a partner and he probably hasn’t knowing him and his battle obsession.” Eyes flicked to the window that looked out onto the sea, seemingly where is (possibly?) friend lived and trying to imagine what kind of hybrid he could possibly be by yourself. The curiosity in you spilling over the edge of your mind and asking yourself if the fairytales you heard of mythical being was true. If half octopus people existed did that mean nagas, mermaids, fae, and kitsunes were real too. “What other mythical beings exist that you know of?” Scara rubbed comforting circles on your tummy as he thought back, “A fair amount of people but many of them are miserable to be around, but as far as the ocean goes I know a couple mermaids and selkies. Two of them are tolerable to be around and offer good conversations last I remember, their names are Kaveh and Kokomi I think.”

“Kaveh always bitches about his annoying merman of a roommate which is always amusing to hear. Of course there are other cecaelia but I haven’t met many others so I assume they live in deeper parts of the ocean.” Laughing to himself as he remembered the insults he’d hear from the selkie about how emotionless and arrogant Alhaitham was to live with. You scooched up so you were laying against his chest and pulled up a soft throw blanket over both of you, “Are mythics only in the ocean?” Lifting his hands from your body and playing with his fingers as he talked. “Haha don’t be silly. They’re all over the world. Some live in the skies and mountains like harpies, dracotaurs, and butterfly people. I know before your boss captured me there was news about a dracotaur named Zhongli and a harpy named Xiao who watched over a city near here almost like a guardian angel.”

The sun shone brighter and the wind picked up, whistling and causing branches to tap against the glass. Birds looked for worms in the ground to bring to their young and chittering to each other. “Hm, I wonder what he’s like?” His hand broke from your grasp and turned your chin so you looked at him, “I thought I was the only supernatural being that interested you?” You laughed and nodded, confirming he was. “You are but that doesn’t mean I can’t be curious. And butterfly people? Aren’t those just fairies?” Apparently not and you shouldn’t say that to a fae’s face because it could piss them off. You had heard stories from your grandparents about people who angered the fae. How travelers would knock on trees when going through the woods to check if the fae were hiding in trees and offer small gifts of flowers or shiny objects for safety when hiking in their territory, with the promise of being respectful.

In your younger years you had believed it, often giving small gifts of your own at the edge of the woods near your house and leaving notes with messages to them. You knew not to tell them your name or else bad things would happen to you and the possibilities of you getting dragged into the forest to never been seen from again only increased. “No, fae are very mischievous and playful. Most of the stories about tricks and fairy circles you’ve heard are true. Butterfly people are similar to fae but have butterfly wings and are much kinder, often helping out creatures of all kind including humans if anyone is in trouble or in need of a helping hand.” Letting your mind drift off into what you thought some of them would look like and your inner child hoping you could meet one one day.

“Just before I got kidnapped, I was washed up by a mangrove near some abandoned but fruitful orchards looking for help since a bad storm had caused me to sprain my wrist. What I thought was a butterfly at first turned out to be a tiny person who called herself Nahida and helped me with my injury.” He explained that butterfly person was the protector of the small kaleidoscope that was home to the ethereally lit forest and her official name was Kusanali. “She helped me identify what fruits were safe and ripe to eat and what herbs could be used for healing or nutrition. Nahida told me what she knew of the fae and that a certain fae prince was becoming quite well known for his artistry and experiments.” Scaramouche kissed your lips and nuzzled his nose against yours, revelling in the comfort and affection you were giving him.

Of course there were other supernatural creatures of the land like nagas and lamias, attractive people with the lower half of a snake with more serpent like features such as scales or forked tongues. Who often are sneaky and stereotyped as sadistic thanks to generalizations from Christianity’s view of snakes when in actuality a lot of them are well versed in healing and medicinal treatments for travelers or other mythics. One type of supernatural you were not so please to find out about were the driders, people with the lower half of a spider and actually very dangerous. “They’re just as cruel and sadistic as the tales say they are or at least that’s what I’ve heard. I don’t intend to find out and I’m hope you don’t either. Remember my home turf is water not land.” You laughed and shook your head, shivering at the thought of running from a being with eight legs and liquidated to be eaten.

“Yeah, that doesn’t seem pleasant to run into but if those are the only dangers in the forest then it seems fine-” He interrupted you and then chuckled, carding his fingers through your hair to work out the tangles that had gotten more apparent over night. You looked up and saw him still looking out the window but away from the sea front view. “Ever heard of werewolves? You’ve probably walked passed by more of them than you think thanks to their ability to remain human looking except during a full or new moon. They are very territorial and possessive of who or what they hold close to them which my kind are also prone to-” You cut him off with some laughter and lightly hit his chest, raising your eyebrow at him and reminding him of the incident involving the ‘Karen’ yesterday.

“Scara you nearly had to be held back when I was hit and any time another employee tries to make a mood on me within your sight even before you dragged me beneath the water-” A bright blush covered his cheeks and he averted his gaze from you, clearly trying to pretend like he didn’t remember it despite you reminding him. “I- It’s not my fault that you attract everyone else’s attention and I have to show them that you’re mine. At least I’m not as bad as the kitsunes! Gods…Those vixens are downright malicious if someone offends them or someone dear to them. My mother’s wife is a nasty example and I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s been stopped many times from striking me with lightning by my mother.”

This was the first you were hearing of his past in general and his mother, no one who found him could get any answer as to who his parents were or where his home was. “I’m plenty happy that you’re possessive and I appreciate you not killing people just for flirting with me.” Laughing towards the end of your sentence and carefully thinking through your words to find out more about his life. “I’m going to need you to be more tolerant now that you don’t have 4 inch glass separating you from the public whenever we’re outside. But you’ve never mentioned your mother before, what was your life before all of this,” You gestured vaguely to your house and around you both, “happened.

The cecaelia’s eyebrows furrowed and his mood got noticeably somber. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, “If it’s something you don’t want to talk about then I understand but I’m here. I know what it’s like to not like your past.” You kissed his cheek and rubbed comforting circles on his chest, letting him think it over and seeing him shake his head out of a deep thought. “No, it’s alright. I just have… mixed feelings toward my mother and it’s not a pretty story.” Scaramouche shifted so you were sitting up and side by side, his hand intertwining with yours and gratefully looking at you. The dark pools of pale purple overflowing with inner turmoil and deep seated unspoken emotions laying just beneath the surface.

“Well not only am I not human but my mother is a goddess, specifically a goddess of storms and lightning.” Eyeing you for a reaction to which you were stunned and gaped at your non-mortal lover, nodding slowly to let him continue. “My mother had a relationship with a human which resulted in me but I don’t know my father and I haven’t seen my mother since she abandoned me.” This was heartbreaking to hear. Why would any mother ever abandon their child? He was still, silence enveloped the room as he kept his eyes locked on the comforter balled up in his fists. Outside you could see the sky darkening, dark grey clouds gathered strangely with your knowledge that there wasn’t supposed to be rain this.

“That makes me a demigod in addition to my weird ass octopus half. I don’t think I have any abilities like my mother but my human emotions are linked to stormy weather which might explain the thunderstorm coming together outside.” Both of you were now focused on the growing anomaly, you looked to Scara and unwrapped his tightly wound fists. The muscles in his fingers still tense and slowly being relaxed thanks to your hand sliding its way into his. “I’m right here with you. I’m- I’m sorry you had to go through that but how did you manage living on your own at such a young age?”

A fond but sad expression painted over his face and he leaned his head on your shoulder, “I didn’t. I was found on a beach by a man named Niwa, someone who I considered my friend…my family. He was the one who showed me how to live and grow up while trying his best to find answers for both of us as why what I was.” Apparently, when he was a child, Niwa took them both to the library to search as to who Scara’s parents were but were stunned to find his mother’s name belonged to a local goddess. While he told the story, a flurry of emotions crossed his mind upon digging into memories he thought he had put away permanently.

“At first we thought it must have been a mistake but Niwa spotted a symbol marked on my skin behind my neck,” Turning his back to you and lifting his hair to let you view a black triple right tomoe. Black ink filled the shape and bent when you ran your fingers over it, noticing the shiver your lover tried to suppress. It looked like a tattoo freshly healed but there was something not natural about it like the scales that littered his skin. “along with the scales, it was clear that I wasn’t human….but he didn’t look at me differently. He wasn’t disgusted or fearful that he was living with a demigod and helped me discover more about who I was but…”

Tears pricked his eyes and threatened to fall, indicating hesitation and what you could tell was a emotionally traumatizing moment back then. You wished you could have done more but the best you could do is be by his side and comfort him the best way possible. “but there- there was one question he couldn’t answer even though he tried. Why did my mother abandoned me? Clearly she knew about my existence since she put me to sleep on a beach but-” The damn broke as streaks of tears fell down his cheeks, quiet sobs loudened as he tried to muffle them and latched onto you when you brought him into your arms. The tight grip Scaramouche had hurt your heart, no one deserved to go through this and you had some choice words in your head for his mother.

There were several better ways to set him free without the lack of communication or possibility of harm. You were glad that someone like Niwa was there for him while all this self discovery was going on, you’d have to thank him if he ever introduced you two. “Scara-” “Kuni. My name is Kunikuzushi. You- you deserve to know.” With the look he was giving you, you had no doubt that this meant a great deal to him and clearly had gained his trust with your help and kindness. Tears still streamed down his face but they had stopped a bit thanks to your comfort. “Kuni. I’m so glad you had Niwa with you. How come he didn’t help you when you got captured?”

There was silence for a couple minutes then he started quietly crying harder burying his head into your neck and mumbled words you couldn’t understand. Carding your hand through his hair and cooing softly, “It’s alright. You’re safe. You’re with me safe and sound.” After gathering himself he kissed your lips and brokenly smiled. “T-thank you. Niwa-” Kuni stuttered and took a deep breath while thunder shook the house. “Niwa was killed by a self proclaimed doctor called Dottore who hunts the supernatural and dissect them. He used Niwa to get to me after seeing bits of my scales You would have gotten along, he was kind and determined like you.” He paused briefly between words to sniffle and then embraced you again, seeing lightning shatter the sky which reminded him to take a breath.

“He helped me with these pathetic human emotions that plagued me. I thought my mother tossed aside because of my disgusting human half and tried to get rid of my mortal part…. to no success.” To say you were stunned was an understatement. To think in addition to all the torture he’d endured at the aquarium he had tried to kill himself in order to get to his mom. You didn’t notice tears that fell from your eyes and landed on his warm bare chest. His thumb brushed your cheek and wiped them away, whispering apologies that he didn’t need to say at all. “I know, I’m not going to say I regret it because I don’t but you and Niwa changed my mind about humans.”

You sadly laughed and kissed him, “I’m glad you’re here. You made my life brighter and I love you dearly. However, how did you come to live in the ocean?” He wiped his eyes and dried his tears, looking down at the lavender scales decorating his skin. “When I tried to drown myself, something different happened my legs split into 8 and my pale purple scales darkened from my waist down.”

“My ears grew webbed and more fish like, entirely below my waist I looked like an octopus from the hips down but I could move through the water faster than I ever could before-” He stopped and look to you, winds calming down and a genuine happy expression took over his face. “I was free. Free to do what I wanted and be free from the pain of loss…so I shut out the world until I met you.” He whispered, almost in disbelief and awe upon reflecting into his past. Time seemed to stop as he moved closer and cupped your face, rubbing his nose against yours affectionately.

Kuni slowly kissed your lips and slowly pulled away for air begrudgingly, still resting his forehead against yours and closing his eyes. A comfortable silence fell between you two. So many emotions poured out and no doubt you could sleep for another couples of hours given it was only 9 in the morning. You kissed his lips sweetly before pulling your boyfriend back under the covers and slurring your words out of fatigue. “I love kissin’ you but sleep is a definite tie. Come cuddle me, Kuni~”

There was little hesitation as he wrapped his arms around you and tangled his legs with yours, taking the small spoon position. Sleep tugged at the corners of your mind but before you succumbed to it you whispered something you’d been holding in for a bit. “You and ursula would get along very well.” You practically felt the annoyed tick mark appear on his face with even having to see it and struggled to hold in your laughter. “Who the fuck is this Ursula bitch?!”

Genshin cryptids

[camillelespanayesbtch]

Seven Devils All Around Me (18+)

Content: Eventual smut, graphic depictions of murder and violence, character death, power imbalance, manipulation, addiction, grief, discussion of sexual violence (r receiving) (I will add more as I think of them)

Chapter Content: Funeral, men being violent, fire

Word Count: 3942

Agatha Harkness x fem!reader

Chapter Two

The embers had long grown cold by the time you found it in yourself to lay your mother down so you could prepare her grave. It would take a while to dig the hole, but you didn’t want to rush it as the walls would cave in. You could tell the soil was good, it was dark and fluffy, worms wriggling around in the pile to the side of the hole as you add another shovel load to it. This is what your mother had wanted from you all along, to ensure that the soil that provides you with food had enough nutrition to continue providing, to not starve and sap life from the plants that called the earth their home. The earth, this soil would now be your mother’s home, and you hoped that the insects and bugs would treat her as kindly as she had them.

You wipe the sweat and tears from your face onto your sleeve, smearing the dirt that had got on your clothes onto your face. You lean back against the wall of the grave, tilting your head up to look at the night sky above. The stars were twinkling brilliantly, some even dancing across the sky and kissing the moon as they pass by. You reach your hand out, hoping to capture one of them because where there was light as bright as this, there was life, and maybe just maybe it would be enough to bring her back, but just like when you were a child trying the same thing- the stars were out of reach for they were meant to be untouched, their purpose is to be free, to guide us should we need it. A soft sigh leaves your lips, watching the way the light from the moon reflects off your nails and for a moment you could trick yourself into believing you had the stars at your fingertips.

You turn your head to look at where your mother lay, the light of the moon shining down on her made her body look silver instead of like a body from Pompeii. You plant your hands on the ground above the grave and pull yourself out, taking the shovel with you and stabbing it into the mound of dirt. There was a brief moment where you wanted to keep stabbing the soil, as if to punish it for what had transpired that day, but you had already disappointed your mother while she was living, you did not need her spirit to feel that way too. Your shoulders slump, more sobs wracking through your body, and you would have let yourself succumb to despair had you not been worried the beasts of the night would take to her body. You force yourself to turn around and go to your mother’s body, using your powers to lift her up, the tendrils of red carefully wrapping around her as you guide her into the grave. You lay her gently in the cold dark earth, leaning down to place a bouquet in her hands, hoping it would protect her like the flowers she had woven into your hair did. You stare at her a moment longer, although she no longer had her icy-blue eyes or soft features, you could still tell it was her because there were lines on her face that weren’t burnt- paths created by her healing tears as she cried for you, for herself. No one cried for you as much as she did.

You were careful piling the dirt on top of her, your last act as her caring daughter, perhaps even penance for inflicting so much suffering upon her. She had always told you to be respectful of the dead, be it an animal or human, their body should be cared for just as much as you would have cared for them while they were still alive. A proper burial is essential, each stone placed gently as to not wake the dead. Then the flowers, ones that they loved, ones that will protect them on the other side.

You scatter the last shovel of dirt on the grave before putting the shovel to the side to start placing the rocks. On the underside of each one was a rune, carved into it with your knife, and although you weren’t a protection witch like she was, there was still the possibility they did something- there is still the possibility it will stop the other members of the coven from desecrating her grave. The last stone was her headstone, you carve her symbol into it, a lotus, the representation of the cycle of life. The sound was harsh on your ears, metal scraping against hard stone shouldn’t ever happen like this, and usually it wouldn’t, would it? Nobody would willingly sit on the wet earth under the night sky and carve runes and symbols into rocks to mark a loved one’s grave, they would sooner do everything they could do to ensure their family survives than this. Why hadn’t you done that? Selfish girl. Monster.

You stand up, gathering the last of the flowers and laying them over the stones, “Everything returns to the earth with which we came,” you murmur. You wipe your face again, a terrible aching in your chest as the weight of the evening finally settles in your bones. You understood that there were people out there that lost their mother younger than you, and there was no doubt that was incredibly painful, but tonight- tonight you had lost yours. Then again, those children, those teenagers, they were not the reason their mother died, but you were. You are. Were you really burying her to protect her? Or were you doing that to assuage your own guilt? This was the most genuine thing you have done for your mother in a long, long time. Do not kid yourself, the flowers you gave her, the false apologies that left your lips as easily as milk flows from a cow’s udder, those were not sincere, those were not genuine. You are, and always will be, nothing more than a selfish, evil little girl that you heard your mother call you one meeting.

Just like it had earlier that day, the same darkness settles onto you, and while your cheeks were stained with tears, no more threatened to fall. The switch had flicked in your brain, and as you head back to the house you’d once called home, the bodies of the other witches go up in flames once more. If you closed your eyes, you swore you could hear them screaming and oh how that sent a shiver down your spine. Those women had it coming, always treating you like an outcast, a miscreant, and whispering in your mother’s ear about how you should have been left in the woods as a baby to be torn apart by wolves. You hum to yourself as you walk, your fingers moving down by your side as though you’re conducting a choir, the gesture soothing to you even as you feel the spark of magic jumping between fingertips. Maybe you should burn this town to the ground, get the few good people out with a warning sent on the wind, then sit back and watch the fireworks begin.

The front door was still open when you get back, a few leaves from outside having blown in on the breeze but other than that, there was no evidence of anyone damaging the property. You shut the door behind you, your eyes landing on the chair your mother had sat in, a few petals from flowers scattered around it, the color drained from them. You let out a bark of a laugh at that, pushing off the door then heading upstairs, each footstep hitting the floor with a heavy thud, the wooden steps groaning under the force. You didn’t know what to put in your bag, obviously you needed underwear- you had gone commando once or twice and the sensation was thoroughly unwelcome. But should you pack your laptop? Makeup? It seemed silly, really, to bring those things along with you. You couldn’t take your phone charger because you didn’t know when you’d next be in a building with a plug, maybe you could get one of those solar chargers on your adventure. You toss a few clothes into your backpack before going to your bed where you pick up the soft toy you’ve had since you were a baby, it had definitely seen better days, but it still provided you comfort. You stare at its black beady eyes, able to see your reflection in them and you looked so small in those little eyes, the black exaggerating the filth that you were covered in. Should you shower? It seemed rather pointless to wash the dirt and grime from your skin when you were about to spend lord knows how long wandering the great outdoors. You didn’t want to catch ubers to other towns as it meant waiting around for them to arrive which gave ample opportunity for the rest of the coven to lynch you.

You hug the toy close to yourself, closing your eyes as you breathe in your mother’s perfume that had been sprayed on it. The toy provided such comfort to you, your heartrate slowing down as you continue to take deep breaths, and if you let your mind wander you could almost feel your mother’s arms wrapping around you, her soft voice in your ear “You are kind. You are smart. You are my beautiful little girl. Never forget, mama loves you.” You wish you hadn’t heard that last part because how could she say she loves you then cast you aside to burn? How could she have admitted to the other members of the coven that she knew you were evil, agreeing with them when they said she should have left you in the woods then come home to you and profess her love? You didn’t understand. You grab the toys head with one hand, your other hand gripping the body and you start to twist it, the fire returning to your eyes, “If you want me to burn, then I’ll burn everything that once was mine.”

Try as you might, the threads holding the toy together did not budge, no fabric tears as the head twists three-sixty. You swear loudly, going to throw it on the ground when a glimmer catches your eye- only when you look closer could you see that the thread was gold. Of course, you think bitterly, of course. Your mother must have known from the moment you left her body that you would be an angry girl, that no amount of love she pours into you would make you calm like she was. No amount of food laced with calming herbs, nor drinks brewed with nothing but love would dull the volcano that bubbled deep within you.

You feel your hands warm up, not bothering to take deep breaths to calm the impending combustion, and soon enough you were holding the toy as it starts to burn- the flames licking up its sides, wrapping around the toy in a cloak, the smell of burning cotton hitting your nose. It was frustrating, watching it clearly on fire yet none of the fur was turning black, the beady eyes did not melt, and if you were being honest, that made it worse than actually destroying something that had once provided you such comfort all those years ago. “Why won’t you just die?” You ask it, voice barely audible over the crackling of the flames, “Just break. Break. Break.” Please.

You toss the burning toy onto your bed, gathering the last few items you wanted and stuffing them into your backpack before zipping it up and slinging it over your shoulder. The smell of burning fabric fills the room along with thick black smoke, the substance staining the white walls until they too were consumed by flames. There was a strange comfort in the warmth of the fire as they lick at your skin like snake tongues, tickling what skin was available to them and threatening to further ruin your clothing. You reach out, your hand hovering above the flames, your fingers moving as though you could make the fire dance the way you want it to. The heat stung, were you anybody else, your skin would be threatening to blister, filling with liquid then bursting, or perhaps it would melt off like it did those men. Part of you hoped that it would, maybe then you would understand why your mother had begged for you to stop, why the men had screamed so loudly with the echoes of all those that had perished before them. Maybe you did deserve to burn after all.

You let out a laugh and shake your head, don’t be so foolish. You did what you had to do, didn’t you? So what if a few men got hurt in the process, how many thousands of women have been hurt because of them for no reason? They had it coming. They only have themselves to blame. You leave your room, humming to yourself as you make your way downstairs, the burning inferno surging after you, spilling down the steps behind you and reaching out to wrap around your feet. You and your mother were the only ones to sing this song in your coven as the elder-witch had forbidden it, claiming it had been used for centuries to lure witches to their demise. How could a song do something like that? All songs have stories to them, it didn’t make them true. Yet, whenever you hum the tune, the ballad, you could feel your magic crackling under your skin, at the tips of your fingers like electricity- whoever created it knew what they were doing, and deep down, you didn’t blame them for using it to their advantage. People hate to see a woman succeed.

“You can burn the place to the ground, but it won’t hide what you’ve done,” a gruff voice says, a husband of one of the women whom you had killed at your attempted execution. He was holding a crossbow up, the sharp tip of the arrow pointing at you, the steel reflecting the fire that was starting to creep along the ceiling towards the only exit, the beast starved for oxygen. He narrows his eyes at you when you don’t flinch, instead, holding your head up higher, your fingers twitching by your side as the tips begin to glow. “You killed my wife,” he continues, “You turned my daughter against us. There is no space in this coven for someone like you.”

You run your tongue over your teeth as a smirk tugs at your lips, shaking your head slightly you then suck in a breath, “Me?” You ask innocently, putting your hands behind your back and shifting your body slightly like a child would when trying to get out of trouble, “Little old me?” A chuckle rumbles from your chest before escaping from your mouth, quickly turning into a cackle that makes the man step back, his crossbow wavering, “It’s not my fault your daughter saw you two for the sad, weak, pathetic little witches you really are.” If you twisted the knife a little deeper, he’d soon cave in to his base instinct, all men do and that made them terribly predictable. “Heaven forbid I treat your daughter better than any man could. What? Can’t handle another maiden treating her right? Is that because you were busy the next town over fucking someone her age? Tsk, twenty-three is a bit young for you, don’t you think?”

“You little bitch!” He yells, tossing the cross-bow to the side as he storms up to you, his hands coming up to wrap around your neck like a noose. His thumbs press into the center of your throat, his fingers squeezing and cutting the flow of blood to your head. He doesn’t even realize that your eyes fill with burning flames, nor does he swat your hands away as the grip his head, his anger fueling him to keep going even as your thumbs start to press into his eyes. “You can’t kill all of us,” he growls.

Your head was starting to pound, your face growing hot as you start to feel the effect of lack of oxygen, but as that happens, the build up of energy in you only grows. Your hands were burning, leaving handprint burns on his face, the heat traveling throughout his body and starting to boil him. Only then, only when his insides start to turn to soup does his grip on you disappear, the man clawing at his clothes and stumbling back as he tries to escape his fate. “You can’t-“ He falls to the ground, writhing in pain, “You can’t- You can’t escape what you are-“

You stand over him, your chest heaving as you grapple the overwhelming magic trying to find balance in your body, “What I am?” You laugh, the sound drowning out the crackling of wood and shattering of glass from the heat. “What I am?!” You crouch down, grabbing his jaw roughly with your hand and watching his eyes grow redder as his capillaries burst, “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” you murmur, a feral look on your face. You push his head away before standing up, watching as his body is engulfed by flames.

You rub your throat, hissing as your fingers press against the bruising. How long would it take for them to fade? Your mother would have healed them, the skin looking perfect once more, but she was no longer here. She wouldn’t ever return. You didn’t know how long it would take for it to naturally go away. Would it be gone tomorrow? Or would it take longer? Maybe you could Google it, although that in itself was a bad idea. You adjust your backpack then hold the straps as you walk out the front door, the house caving in as its framing yields to the hungry inferno. You had no idea where to go, but you knew you couldn’t stay here. If he found you, it wouldn’t be long before others joined.

Long after the fire had burned, leaving behind smoldering embers of the house, only then did the witch dare to step out from where she had been lurking. She took a few tentative steps, looking around to see if there were any onlookers but thankfully, for their sake more than hers, there were none. She rolls her shoulders back, tilts her chin up then saunters towards the coals, each foot placement careful because she certainly didn’t want her shoes to get dirty, and this place was a tip. Why hadn’t you tidied up a little bit, hm? Your mother would be so disappointed, and besides, it’s not like you had anything better to do with your time. Ha! Oh, she makes herself laugh. She is terribly funny, a comedienne if you will.

She uses a stick to poke around the in embers, letting out a huff every time she doesn’t find what she’s looking for. She isn’t a very patient woman, and this is certainly testing every single ounce of patience she has. She was close to giving up, even though she would never actually admit to it, when she sees a glimmer of gold, “There you are,” she murmurs, flicking her coat out as she crouches down to pick the sooty toy up. She dusts it off with a grimace, the ash falling off with ease until the toy looked normal again. The beady black eyes stare into hers, a chuckle rumbling from her chest, “Take a picture, why dontcha? Get my good side.” She turns her head before laughing, “Oh who am I kidding? Every side is my good side, you flirt.” She winks at it before making her way off the rubble, dusting herself off and letting out a sound of disgust. Why did everything involve so much fucking dirt??

The witch looks at the toy once more, she could feel the protection spell emanating from it and she, better than anyone else, knew that it comes from the purest thing out there- a mother’s love. It made her sick. How could someone claim to be a good mom and do what yours did? So what if you were a little- psychotic, all the best women are! There’s nothing wrong with a little murder every now and then, it’s what makes life more interesting. And so what if you got a little pep in your step after because their energy is intoxicating? More power to ya! She loved a little energy drink too, and she certainly isn’t talking about redbull. There she goes again, making herself laugh. Her humor never ceases to amaze her.

“Who are you?” A voice asks her, making the witch whip her head around in the direction it came from. “You’re not from here. I know the faces of all the women in our coven- Well, the ones that remain, and you’re not one of them.”

A young little thing, how sweet. A little bit too big for her britches though, brazen in asking the [Redacted] who she is. “Isn’t it past your bedtime, little girl?” She asks the young woman, her eyes running over the figure before looking at her once more. “Don’t tell me… Your mother was burnt like an over-cooked chicken wing, huh? Maybe if you add a little hot sauce she’ll come back, the little zing might just-“ she gestures with her hands like she was shocking someone, “Zing her back to life.”

“Don’t talk about my mother like that,” the young woman bites back, clenching her fists beside her. She knew the risk her mother faced because she had pleaded with her not to do it, but there are laws in covens and they need to be followed, no matter the personal cost. “You can’t be here. You need to leave.”

“Aww, did I touch a sore spot, hm? Maybe I should have called her one chicken nugget from the pack of- what, seven? Did the McDonald’s workers toss an extra one in for good luck? And where’s the sweet and sour sauce?” Her own fingers were twitching by her side, the toy now safely in her pant pocket. "What is a little thing like you gonna do about it? You’re no bigger than a French-fry.”

“Stop!” The witch screams at the unknown woman. She takes a few breaths to calm herself, letting out a sigh after, “My mother told me about witches like you. I won’t let my anger make me a victim. You’re not welcome here. You must leave before the men find you, they don’t take kindly to strangers.” She takes one more look at the mystery woman before turning and heading back to her home, she would tell her father about this if she remembered.

The mystery witch lets out a frustrated groan, stomping her foot, “Ugh!” What is it with people being taught how to regulate their emotions these days!? What was wrong with the good ol’ pure unadulterated rage!? Pathetic. She rakes her fingers through her hair, the gesture soothing her before she heads on her way, the toy heavy in her pocket. It wouldn’t take much for her to find you, just follow the ashy road. Maybe she could make a song about that- follow the ashy road. You’re off to see the- the… fuck. Who were you after? Ugh.

[freesidexjunkie]

tell me you're mine

f!Dark Urge OC x Enver Gortash

2036 words

Rating: E

Content: p in v; jealous and needy gortash; death/murder; definitely smut

Summary: Enver overhears some cultists making lewd remarks about his Bhaalspawn, and needs to rectify this situation.

“And what about the bhaalspawn?”

Gortash knew he shouldn't be listening. He had better things to do than listen to every bit of gossip that passed between these cultists. Nevertheless, at the mention of his co-conspirator, he found himself rooted to the spot, skulking behind the half-opened door frame like a common thug.

“You’d have to be mad to even try,” a drow woman said to the elf in front of her. “She’s likely to carve out your heart where you stand if you got too close.”

The elf snorted, puffing out his chest a bit. “I bet I could handle her,” he replied, insufferably cocky to Gortash’s ear. “She wouldn't be so scary once I was–”

Enver had heard enough, he decided. He threw open the door as he stormed into the room; a bit more dramatic than was likely necessary, but it certainly made his presence felt. The cultists’ eyes grew wide with shock as he leveled a fearsome glare at them.

“Y-your holiness!” The elf stammered out as the pair fell to their knees, eyes pointed downwards as his face colored.

“Such reverence,” he replied, the unnervingly calm in his voice not reaching his eyes. “Such respect. Tell me, do you only blaspheme against your God's Chosen in secret, then?”

“N-no, my lord!” The elf replied, head bowed low as he kneeled at Gortash’s feet. Sniveling little worm, he thought; all bravado, and no judgment. Useless.

“Oh, by all means!” He drawled, almost sweetly beneath the venom. The wicked snarl on his face was a challenge as he looked down on the man, wallowing pitifully into the dirt. “Do continue. Tell us how you would show due respect to your leaders. Enlighten us.”

“I… I–” The elf’s eyes darted around the room as he spluttered pathetically, desperately searching the faces of his compatriots for aid. But he found none; all averted their eyes from him, as if his doom might be catching.

Gortash could feel nothing but disgust for the man. He was clearly useless to their cause; he seemed to think himself above his betters, yet showed no spine when challenged on it. He could do nothing but weaken them. Gortash turned his sneer on the drow with him. “Does this man speak for you?”

“No, my lord,” she answered, her voice calm and her eyes cast down as she knelt.

He unsheathed his short sword and threw the blade at her feet, a snarl escaping his lips as he bid her, “prove it.”

The drow gave a curt nod as she lifted the blade. “Yes, my lord.” He watched as the elf’s eyes widened in terror as he looked to his former friend, a silent realization dawning on him. The sword was through his chest before he could make any plea for his worthless life; his only answer a little gasp as the blade was pulled from his chest as harshly as it had been thrust in. The room watched in silence as he collapsed to the floor, a few more pitiful gurgles before the elf quickly succumbed. The only pair of eyes not watching were the drow, still cast down reverentially as she presented Lord Gortash’s sword to him, her charge fulfilled.

He watched her, looking for any sign of weakness; but she showed none. He considered for a moment that he may punish her regardless for her complacency. But no – she showed promise, and he trusted that this would serve as a lesson for all who had watched. He took the sword back without a word, turning his back as he settled it back into the sheath. His gaze swept over the room, eyes still full of fury as he watched the onlookers busying themselves with their work, none of them eager to share the elf’s fate.

Gortash spared them one final displeased grunt as he left the room. “Clean up this mess. Give it to the gnolls, perhaps,” he called behind him as he left the room, letting the door slam behind him.

Insolent man. Presumptuous fool. He would never have been able to do any real harm to Maevris, Enver knew; the elf’s companion was right, in that she would have gutted him before he could even make an attempt. But that did not excuse his lecherous tone, his disgraceful comments about something so far above his own station.

“The bhaalspawn,” they had said. As if that was all they thought of her; some demon child of a has been god. Didn't they realize what was owed to her, as their leader? As the brilliant mastermind that she was, the fearsome assassin, the Chosen of a god, as was he? Yet they spoke of her without the fearful respect her position should inspire in them. They spoke of her as if they had any right to the parts of her that were –

Enver stopped short of finishing that thought. The ice cold shock of his own feelings on the matter doused the burning rage in his chest, if only for a moment. But a moment is all he allowed it, lest those thoughts run wild.

He felt heat creep up the back of his neck as he mounted the tower’s stairs towards the library. There had been no words spoken between them as to the… particulars of their arrangement. Was “arrangement” too crass of a word for it, he thought? Was there a better way of describing it, the stolen moments of private worship that passed between them? Would Mae have objected to the man’s words, if given the chance; might she even have reveled in them, encouraged them? And at what moment, he wondered, had that become so abhorrent a thought to him?

He would be master of his own emotions; this he swore to himself. He was a powerful leader, the Chosen of a god, soon to be a god in his own right. It made no sense to worry over himself over someone else’s affair. It made no sense to –

“Argh!” His fist slammed into the frame of a bookcase. Enver leaned against it, letting out a gravelly huff, before hearing a book being snapped shut behind him.

“Rough day?” Came Mae’s voice, lilting with amusement. She was leaning back against a desk, her angles and curves on a tantalizing display as she watched him with a smirk.

Gods dammit it all, he thought to himself as he charged towards her. In a moment, he was on her; arms gripping her tightly, one hand tangled in her hair to pull her in. He met her lips with a crushing urgency, pinning her against the desk’s edge. Mae made a surprised little laugh against his mouth, looping her arms around him.

Enver felt her pull back just slightly, only enough to pry their lips apart. “What’s gotten in–” was all he let her get out before lifting her onto the desk. Her legs opened for him as he slid one hand up the front of her thigh, underneath the hem of her skirt. She was already wet for him as he ran his thumb over the crotch of her undergarments, pressing herself into the touch with a little groan.

He told himself to be gentler in his touches as he grabbed her hips roughly. He chided his own impatience even as he tore off her smallclothes. But as much as he chastised himself, he found he couldn't help it; he needed her, needed to feel her around him, to feel her tremble at his touch. To know that she was his.

He forwent the normal pleasantries, their coy back and forth and the sweet little praises he liked to lavish upon her. Mae’s hands worked down his body agonizingly slowly, toying with the laces of his shirt collar and running over the skin of his back, her nails surely leaving little red lines in their wake. He didn’t have the patience to wait, not this time; he undid the laces on his pants hastily, freeing himself from the confines of the fabric he strained against. Enver could feel how eager she was as he guided himself into her; her little gasps, how readily she took him in, the way her breath caught as he worked his hand around her swollen bud.

“Careful,” Mae warned, a low and shaky whisper in his ear, “if you keep doing that, the whole tower will know what we’re up to.”

Enver wrapped his arms under her legs, hoisting her up and further against him. “Good,” he replied, almost a growl. “Let them.” Let them all know, he thought, biting carefully at her neck. He would let them hear his name cried from her lips, let them see the sweet little marks he would leave on her skin. He was keen to remind of his many uses, his well honed skills to be put to use. The various ways he could bring forth her ecstasy as no one else could. He thrust into her again, harder, as he tugged a fistful of her hair to better expose her neck, earning a delicious moan from deep within her chest to echo off of the stone walls around them.

“Fuck,” she rasped, face turned upwards as she panted, “Enver, I… I…”

He pulled her closer to him again, gripping her ass and encircling her waist as he murmured something unintelligible into her jaw.

Mae turned back towards him to speak into his ear. “What was that?” She asked quietly, every word an effort against the blissful feeling spreading across her body.

He pulled his face away to look into her eyes, his eyes dark with lust as he kept a slow and deliberate rhythm pounding into her. “Tell me you're mine,” he said, more clearly this time. “Tell me that you are mine and mine alone. That if anyone else dared to lay a finger on you, you would want me to tear them limb from limb. That no one else can have you but me.”

Mae let out a breathless little chuckle as she grinned up at him. Looping her arms around his neck, she pulled him in for a long, needy, passionate kiss as she continued to buck against him. Without pulling away, she spoke with a grin against his lips, “of course, darling.”

“Say it,” he said, almost a plea as he neared his climax.

“I’m yours, Enver,” she said, her voice coming undone as she came closer to the edge. “All yours.”

And it was that that did him in. He felt himself reach his end as he snaked his arms around her back and up behind her shoulders, burying his face into her neck as he spilled inside of her. She cried out his name as she came with him, surely loud enough to be heard throughout the floor. It was a proclamation to any that would dare to look at her: his.

Maevris was running her fingers gently through his hair and across his back. She planted small kisses to his temple as he shuddered against her, breathing heavily into her shoulder, still buried inside of her. “Do you feel better now, love?” She asked with a wilting playfulness.

He let out a short laugh as he straightened himself up, pulling out of her and pressing a last kiss to the side of her neck. “Of course, my dear,” he said, arms still circling her waist as he leaned back to look at her.

“Good,” she replied, running a hand up his chest with a smirk. “You should clean yourself up, darling. I believe we’re late for a meeting with the General.”

She met his eyes with a pleased little smile. Wicked thing. Sinfully gorgeous, wicked woman. “Oh no,” he answered with a devilish grin as he wrapped her legs around his waist and lifted. “No, pet. We are going upstairs, so I can show you just how mine you are.”

Mae acquiesced quite willingly, all kisses and giggles as she relished in teasing him all the way up the stairs. She was his, he repeated to himself. All his. Only his. And the thought entered his mind more than once, that he was entirely hers.

[vecnuthy]

🪱🧠 Wiggly Wednesday 🧠🪱

Tagged by @just-my-latest-hyperfixation sending luscious dirt vibes your way to feed the babies 🖤🖤 I've had this brain worm wriggling around in my head for a while, but it requires spice and I really feel that I just cannot do spice, but, regardless, here's my nsfw maybe au brainworm that I have definitely already kind of written the beginning of:

Steve finds a handwritten note in the adult only section of Family Video that prompts him to choose a number between one and twelve, saying that it would be fun (wink wink). Steve eventually caves because he's bored and curious and writes a number down, then gets a tape a week later saying something along the lines of "Your choice awaits." Later that night, he finds out that it's basically the 80s version of a camboy video, and the guy in it loooves the sound of his own voice, and, looky there, Steve does too. A lot. He likes the way the guy (Eddie, obvious to us) touches himself even more, and by the end of the video, Steve is shaking and sweaty and in the sweetest pain bc the guy on the video said he couldn't touch himself, only watch.

And Steve does what he's told.

Or at least he does this time, because he's just so engrossed in what this tattooed guy with the slightly gravelly voice is doing, and he hates that he can't see his face, and he's just kind of frozen until the guy on the screen sets him free, but then he succumbs far too quickly.

It's the first of a few tapes that appear.

There are more notes asking for Steve's thoughts and for more numbers, and Steve's frustrated as all hell because he's jerking off too damn much, and he's trying to do one night stands that just aren't cutting it because those girls are just not this guy, and the guys are just not this guy, and his hand isn't satisfying, because he just wants that guy's hands on him, his voice in his ear, muttering the nastiest things that he can't even fathom, that make him blush shades of red that he can feel all over his body through to his bones, that drip like hot honey down his spine and make his fingers tingle and his chest squeeze and stomach swoop so wildly that he want to scream.

But yeah, it's bound to be a multichapter thing or a longggg oneshot kind of thing, which is intimidating, so who knows if it'll happen, but. Brainworms.

Tagging @steddieas-shegoes @sidekick-hero @cuips-not-cute @corrodedbisexual @thefreakandthehair @griefabyss69 bc I feel like y'all have brainworms 😌🫶

[siswritesyanderes]

OMGGG YANDERE BRIDGERTON PLEASE

Okay, brainstorm.

I'm torn between wanting the characters to be ruthless in the non-violent social sense that leaves their opponents destitute, or leaning fully into "They're rich enough to get away with murder."

So, I'm thinking the Bridgertons are just ALL yanderes. It's just a family thing; just yanderes all the way down. They banter about it. Violet and (the dad; I forgot his name) were yanderes for each other, and their children are all amazed at how well their mother survived losing him so suddenly.

In their childhood, the Bridgertons are all platonic yanderes. (When they do have childhood crushes, they don't usually feel yandere towards those; they're just cute little childhood crushes.) With their friends, they tend to be highly protective, or clingy, or jealous. Any one of them will kill for their family without a second thought and bury the body on their own land. Maybe someone hurts little Eloise's feelings, Daphne tells their older brothers, and Anthony, Benedict, and Colin sink a body in the river that night. Or rather, Anthony and Colin do, while Benedict preserves their alibi.

(At this moment I'm going to write about the canon relationships of those of them who have those. I'm open to asks about what specifically you're looking for.)

Daphne is yandere for Simon. She has modeled herself to be the perfect diamond, and Simon, as much as he tries to be, cannot make himself harder than a diamond. In fact, he is moldable, and fragile, and she adores him. Simon is not a yandere and also doesn't really get that Daphne is a yandere. He hasn't been romantic like this with anyone before, so he doesn't know what a normal level of possessiveness is. He's been taught that women need to be wary of him, not vice versa. Her genuine innocence to matters of the flesh shields her from a lot of scrutiny. How can someone who has never touched herself be thought guilty of taking undue license with a man? How could someone with such wide, naive eyes be thought guilty of manipulating anyone? At every step, she guides him into the palms of her hands, and she loves how he succumbs.

If she ever had her eyes on someone other than Simon, in keeping with my fondness for poly yanderes, most likely she would first verify that Simon likes the person, too. It's not beyond her capabilities to guilt him for liking someone else and leverage that to get him to go along with whatever her plan is to pursue this unconventional relationship. But I think she would pick a gentler way to convince him, and only resort to shaming him if he resists the gentle approach. Maybe the one they both love can be hired as a "nanny" or "tutor" for their children, and they can enjoy their intimate company in the comfort of their own home. That could work even if the person marries someone else, and anyway, who's to say the unfortunate rival won't trip on a slick road or drunkenly fall into the Thames?

Anthony thought he felt that Bridgerton obsession for Siena; he pursued her relentlessly on the basis of what he believed he was supposed to feel. When that didn't pan out and he still felt basically like his normal self, he decided that he must not be like the rest of his family. And good! Because he didn't want to fall in love anyway.

Then he met Kate, and suddenly his ruthless self is unleashed in full. She was the sun in the morning, the air he breathed, and he needed as many hooks in her as possible to make sure she didn't go anywhere. When she seemed to distrust and resent him, he courted Edwina. Now Kate had to be around him. But as he wormed his way closer to her, she planned to leave for India as soon as Edwina was married. That couldn't be allowed. Every step he took was contrived to erase the possibility of Kate leaving him. Honestly, we could say that he deliberately caused her to fall off her horse, if we wanted to. Kate does recognize that he feels and behaves abnormally toward her, but once she comes to terms with being romantic with him in the first place, she's able to handle his yandere side pretty easily.

If he ever had his eyes on someone other than Kate, he might kidnap them in secret. Again, he just needs them not to leave. Kate finds out, because she's on top of everything always. She isn't really yandere, but she already manages his obsession with her on a daily basis. Now, she manages his obsession with the new person, the ethics of kidnapping, and the need to contain the scandal of what he's done, by basically helping him to craft a plausible narrative around what happened. (Maybe they found you in the woods, having gotten lost and ill, and were keeping you in their home until you were well enough. You're still not allowed to see anyone; who would question the Bridgertons? Kate makes sure you're comfortable and reins in Anthony where necessary. He worships her for being so understanding of his needs.)

I haven't seen season 3 yet and so I don't have a full handle on Colin right now.

Benedict will gladly pine forever. He has a kind of romantic enjoyment of the sensation of yearning, so he could paint his love and watch his love and tease his love forever. But, given the expectations of the society they live in, his love might be obligated to marry someone. He will very amicably ruin anyone his love courts. Scandals everywhere. Without the slightest dip in his wistful smile, he will set everything into place to have his rivals socially destroyed, in the ton, and when his love is left with no one else to court, then he will appear with all the love in his heart. If the person is looking for a husband, then he's their last chance. If they're looking for a wife, then Benedict will cleverly contrive it so that they read as best friends, artistic partners, whatever else. Maybe his love has found themself to be inexplicably cut off from any money and resources they once had. The crucial thing is that he will never have to vie for attention. He only has to introduce himself, and they will concede to his love willingly. And then he'll unload his deluge of paintings and sculptures and poems onto them. He might do this with Madame Delacroix.

Also, maybe Penelope's a yandere? Just separately. Idk, she has too much subtle power to ignore.