#idk why they should be together but they should

[dilf-docs]

Darlin', Can I Be Your Favorite?

dbf!boxer pedro pascal x younger fem!reader

summary: it should be simple. helping your dad's best friend to train for his upcoming match in his hometown, chile. but turns out, world-renowned boxer the viper isn't just a menace in the ring.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (girthy), smut, p. in v., oral (m. receiving), rough sex, public sex, praise kink, humilliation kink, daddy kink (she's got daddy issues; idc if this is mischaracterizing you, you'll live), dom!pedro, use of pet names (doll/baby), some angst because that's my staple, idk shit about boxing my bad (i'm more of a ufc girlie kinda) so let's focus on the filth!!

word count: 5,874 words

side note: this very different albeit genius request got me a small hit tweet. song of choice for this piece i sped up because of my ovulation is favorite, by isabel larosa. there are several paragraphs in this that could be used against me and are proof i'm loosing my mind during this midterm/fertile week had to use a clint gif because freaky tales clint is so sexy might watch the movie on theatres with my legs open

You weren't new to this.

The small walls, dim light, the sweat, the blood... you were shoved into it. By your father, since you were a baby. Long before you could even walk, grabby hands trying to reach for a ring that seemed so far, the violence and the rage contained inside the quadrilateral.

So you grew up wanting it. The desire. The ichor. Rough and brutal.

You'd never step in, but always stood by your father's side. Until the age of boys, over-coated glossy lips and blooming girlhood arrived. Long gone where the days were you'd be next to your dad inside the dim-light place, now filled with car rides and girly laughter about all and nothing. You changed the sweat scent of the place for vainilla, and the oversized t-shirts for skirts that showed your laced panties if you bent.

The fights started then, but the ring became your home. Slut, he'd call you, saying this wasn't the girl he raised. Your mother would cry, tired of trying to stop the fighting that extended sometimes until late at dawn, when you'd show up on the doorstep, skirt torn apart and panties wet despite the dry summer.

The beast laid dormant inside you. That primal raw hunger; it never ceased to exist.

Now it was on your roaring voice, refusing to shut up and take the harsh language spoken by your own blood. It was on the defiance, cutting your clothes even smaller, pushing the wearable limit. On the way your makeup and manners got more scandalous, and how you'd throw your door louder each time another confrontation took place, the once lively home now a wrestle between two forces refusing to back down. But when you weren't with a bottle in your mouth or a guy in between your legs, you'd think of his hands grabbing yours as he showed you the gym around, introducing you to regulars. My little girl, he'd said proudly, and you would smile like he did. You'd grab the broken frame you once threw against the wall in a fit of rage, crimson imprinted over the photograph below the broken shards you tried to miserably put together again. Fucking failure. But it's impossible to piece what's already broken back together.

But you were still a believer, despite it all: the same girl who saw the magic in the beasts trapped within the cage, thunderous brutality in the place you once called your second home.

Maybe that's why you agreed to help your dad on this. To see a bit of that smile that had faded in time like the colors of the rust painted lockers. To hear a good girl praise. Not slut. To see a glimpse of the man who said he'd pass this place to you, useless now on his mouth as the gym crumbled just like your relationship. In the end, you were his daughter, begging to be seen.

And you were seen. Not by him. But by him.

The Viper. Pronounced in a whisper, because out loud sounded like a curse, bound to risk too much.

He had been a casual before, remembering his days when no facial hair adorned his face and he'd talk with your dad while laughing in a boasting sound, like he knew he'd break out in the scene. He did. And then he stopped coming, because he was too busy winning and living life than to return to a place that was falling apart.

But then your dad came rushing home, like he was to bear bad news. And boy, wasn't he? The leather, the greys now starting to take over his hair like the bad choices in the form of women and alcohol, ones that had once carried a bad boy charm which now had ripen into a sour taste, a lifestyle that belonged to the golden years left in a past long left behind. He didn't belong anymore, but refused to quit. The violence was a vice, and despite loosing everything, he had never lost a match.

"He wants to train" your dad panted out to your worried mother, who thought worst. "For a match, in Chile, his hometown. He talks about coming back"

Your dad may have been the first to know such, but not the last. No, because what started with a call late at night on your dad's old office (He had said Remember me, old friend? oscilating between nostalgia and teasing, and when your dad called his name, a soft incredulous Pedro? he had let out one of his victorious golden laughs, like coins falling down, as to let him know it was still him, despite it all), ended up on the news.

He's coming. He's coming. He's coming. Like a warning before the big bad wolf struck again.

In a way, you think, as he stands before you, he is one: the sharp eyes and bearing teeth. A fighter never backs down, and he seemed to be always in guard.

Hadn't recognized you at first, blinking a few times before a lazy and easy sleazy smile appeared on his face.

"This the same girl that asked me to carry her on my shoulders?" and a chuckle. "I think I still could"

A low, dangerous rich rumble. A dare. Challenging. Pedro didn't know you too had changed in many ways, and he certainly didn't know either you had touched yourself at night to the sound of his velvety voice, wrapping you up like the sweat that set your skin ablaze, a fist in your mouth to stop his name from slithering past your lips, image set on the way his eyes roamed over your woman body like an all too well trap he always falls in like a vice, trying to think if it was real or just another one of the troubles you loved to cause yourself.

But once you're deep, you can only go deeper.

Your dad left for Chile a day earlier, to set preparations you could care less, which is why you're here.

You promised not to fuck it up, seeing a peek of that man who swore to protect you from the cruel world outside. You needed this. Wanted this. When his lips parted but closed, many words hanging on the air coated with burnt cigars and sweat (I'm sorry. I'm proud of you. Don't dissapoint me. Don't break my heart. Don't fuck this up. I love you), you decided you'd do everything in your power to get your dad back.

The task was rather easy: help The Viper train before his big match in Chile.

Easy, if said man wasn't your dad's best friend, Pedro Pascal.

You feel like a voyeuristic freak watching from a corner as he pounds into the boxing bag repeatedly. Drops of salty sweat begin to run through his back, the white cloth now near transparent with how it sticks to his tan skin.

Pedro is big. All boxers were, seeing them coming and going from your dad's gym. But he was beefy. Not the slender and compact, but the huge thick type. The one were just his hands alone looked like he could snap your neck in two if he wanted.

You're supposed to be out there, helping him, but after your dirty little session two nights ago, and yesterday's dinner at your home, you're just not capable to meet him in the eye, despite promises to your dad and the fire to get his affection back.

(He had come over for dinner. Your mom made lasagna, your favorite dish of hers, but the plate went cold as you took in his words like an oil, spreading the grave tone that coated your panties like a second skin. You pressed your legs together, a shaky breath escaping past your treacherous lips when he said how much you'd grown, blaming the sauce when he licked his lips. Your parents stood up to collect the dishes, and then he leaned down and whispered: Ain't you become a doll?)

(It was nothing. It was just a man who knew your father and no better. But you didn't, either)

Last night, to erase the spell he seemed to have cast upon you, you went to one of your old friends while he beat himself up on the gym, where you were supposed to be. But when your orgasm washed over, you said his name instead; no cold shower could scrub away the humilliation.

(And the house still smelled like him. Bitter coffee, leather and sweat. It was salty and citric, up in your nostrils with an invasion that was, if not, fitting. You were obssesed, with the champion and the legend, and he was an old man looking for a fresh doe-eyed girl who could take it)

You gawk like a man would, but, how not? Dude too appeared to be hung. What is it they say about men with big noses, big hands and big thighs? Big. Big. Big. Fucking hell, you needed to be locked up.

"I know you're in there, baby" his voice cuts through the silence. It's night, and you should be locking up already, scarce customers long gone. "Was never good at hiding"

You emerge from the shadows, sporting only a small black short and a white tank top. He chuckles. With you, nothing is a coincidence.

"Some things never change"

He snickers, "but glad some do"

You breath in, getting closer to him. Again, his scent intrudes your senses, making you dizzy like a drug. Your circuits are busy, and his high.

"You were supposed to help me 'round here" he motions the place. But you're stuck on his hands, wrapped in tape. Those hands, brief peek of his tattoo hidden between the white. "What would your dad say, huh?"

His tone is devoid of malice and full of teasing, but your stomach churns.

"He'd say what he always says" he shots up an eyebrow, as if daring you to speak. "That I'm a fucking failure"

Pedro seems taken back by the sudden change in the atmosphere, nonetheless, still charged with unspoken uncertainty.

"Your dad?" like he couldn't connect the man he knew to the one he is now.

"How would you know?" comes out harsher than you intended, a shameful bitter taste in your mouth. "A lot has changed since you left"

A quiet rage settles in his eyes, the beast caged behind the enclosure begging to be let out.

"Why you throwing it on my face? I ain't your daddy"

It shouldn't hurt. This is ridiculous. But, hell, it does; you're nobody's daughter.

"Good you aren't my fucking daddy"

The silence washes over you at the same time the embarrassment does. You realize too late the words that left your mouth, and if you're quick to try to run, he's faster, your back pressed to the material of the hanging punching bag.

"Say it" he demands, "again"

Your face grows hotter by the minute. "I have no idea what you're talking about"

"First a terrible discreet and now a bad liar" his spit spurts in your face, each word with punctuation and a seethe. "Anything else?"

Yes. So much. You're drowning at this point, still not deciding if it's because of the smell his body is emanating or your heavy heart's fault. But he's the last person you'll tell all of this to.

"Not that it matters to you, anyway"

Yet, to an extent, it seems like he knows. As if he's able to see past the forced sweetness, the sarcasm and the layers of makeup and numbingly intoxicating vainilla. Pedro thinks at least he does.

So if you're on fire, he'll let you keep burning.

"I could be him, you know?" your ears start ringing at some point, and you're sure your heart stops. "I could be your daddy"

There's no going deeper than this.

"Thank God you aren't"

And it's like a slap to his face. The oh-mighty undisputed champion steps back. There is always a first, and maybe this is what loss feels like.

"Baby-"

Your ears keep on ringing as you move far from him, your heart dangerously close to leaping from your throat to the cold hard ground. Who does he think he is? He hasn't even been back for a day and has already found a way to break you from inside. To ruin you. As if he never left and has known every secret hidden between your ribs, his memory nestled since forever. But he's too picked apart your bones, in just a matter of seconds, biting down on the marrow of your deepest insecurities.

You hate him. You hate Pedro. You hope he looses, and you accept you've already lost your dad.

But then, as you realize your sat at the end of the gym, the worn out lockers on display, you have an idea.

With you, it was always about revenge, wasn't it?

The beast is awake, howling upon you. Ichor. Rage. This rotten girlhood that started with Malibu dreams and has ended on beds that reek of cheap whiskey and a quick fix in the name of forgetting.

"Pedro"

His head almost snaps looking in your direction. Not like he wanted to search for you to ask for your forgiveness. A match to mark his comeback and change his life will happen in just a couple of hours; he's got bigger problems than a girl who can't see things the way they are. He isn't an apostle of acceptance, but his wicked selfish nature finds pleasure in punishing you for his same sins.

But to play a game, you need two.

"In here" he answers, as if he hasn't moved since your little altercation.

"You need to shower" he catches in time the towel you throw at him. He chuckles dryly at your childish behavior. "You stink"

"You sure? 'Cause just a minute ago, it seemed you were into it" he's quick to quip, matching your energy.

That cocky motherfucker. So full of himself. You hate the sleazy smile of a winner. Does he think you're going down as easy as that?

Of course, you aren't blind. He's attractive, but is this worth it? You see his damp shirt and sweat drenched thighs. No. You look away, flustered.

"I think you need a break, old man. You're not who you used to be" you turn your back to him, so he doesn't see your red hot face, "seeing things that aren't real"

You start to walk to the changing room, and even if not spoken, there's an implication to follow you. So Pedro does, because it's night and Friday and he's got nowhere else to go.

He follows you into the locker room, but this isn't you.

Not the little girl who looked up to him like he could beat the whole world, hand in hand. Not the broken woman, who tried so hard to keep up a mask he could easily see through, maybe because it was akin to his own.

No. This is a fucking temptress. A siren call to drown.

"Sit"

He decided to be a boxer the day he knew he wasn't meant to be bent. The day he realized he hated being weak and wanted to always lead his own path. If it was through violence and punches, so be it.

But he's obeying your command, like a lap dog. If the change isn't noticeable enough, your wicked grin gives it away. He takes his place on the bench, sitting down with aching joints.

"What were you thinking?" you whisper.

A vein on his neck pops out aggressively at the remark.

"I can still handle it"

The way his voice drops to a lower octave, the scowl on his face prominent, like he's both offended and peaked in interest by your remark.

"Is that a challenge?" you tease, playfully. "I'm not your opponent, Pascal. Save it for tomorrow night"

Your fingers itch, and before you think about it twice, they're digging across the soft flesh of his broad back.

"What-"

You hush him almost instantly. "Let me"

You trace patters across the expanse of his hard planes, arousal pooling at the rough of his edges, the dry and scarred of his skin. It's also the sturdy built, what makes it harder to not... appreciate. You happen to be into appreciating the small things, that's all.

(But small, he definitely isn't)

"You're tired" you trace his worn muscles, lost in the way he seems to equally tense and relax under your fluttering touch. "Let me help you"

"What's this?" equally soft. A tattoo. But not the one's you've seen; you wonder if it is for your bad memory or because it's new. "Vae victis"

"Woe to the defeated" he's quick to answer. Taking your silence as a signal to continue, he adds. "It's a way to remember the ones I fight are people, not numbers"

If his voice carries a tinge of vulnerability, you must've imagined it.

"Never took you as the empath type" and your fingers leave his skin, as if it burns.

He lets out a soft humorless laugh.

"There's a lot you don't know about me, baby"

You don't let him have the last word, and to punctuate your final blow, you press a short kiss to the tattoo. He didn't see it coming-- your mint breath ghosting over his shoulder onto his face. Pedro forgets how to breath.

"I've always loved a good mystery"

Knockout.

He looks up from the bench, breathing still panting as he sees your retreating figure, until all that's left in the room is him and his worn-out body. Then, the soft pit-pat of the water hitting the tiles jolts him awake.

"It's ready" your voice says, but you're still there, and not back to the lockers.

Why were you preparing him a shower? It's not like he couldn't turn on the switch.

Pedro removes the towel from his neck and walks over to the showers, only to find you still there, white blouse as damp as his.

"What-"

"Get in"

He's about to repeat it, this time harsher and louder (Have you gone insane, woman?), but then your sweet persistent voice digs on his mulish character like a knife to a wound, and his reasoning has flown out of the window.

"You're gonna wet yourself" is all Pedro can manage to say.

The (possible) double meaning makes his belly rumble.

"I know" you repeat, answering for both. And then get inside.

The water starts to make your clothes hug your body, and he's lost in the curves of your ass and tits. Your muscles, while albeit not worked out, are both soft and strong, plush skin inviting for a bite. You've got both the firm and the soft that comes with age and womanhood, and his cock is itching to have his invite to your warm walls.

"What are you waiting for? Are you going to bath with clothes on?"

He rolls his eyes. "Look who's talking"

The cold water hits him when you too have taken off your clothes.

Couldn't get challenged because your too stubborn ass fell right into the bait.

His breath gets caught in his throat as your soapy hands explore his body. His adam's apple bobs as he gulps, enthralled by your firm yet gentle scrubbing, washing away remnants of sweat and dirt. All words are lost at the devotion, worship and reverance that seems to pour from your digits as you sweep his body.

"How?" your voice drowns out with the drops of water.

"Bad move" he whispers, seeing it across his arm. It's runs across almost all of his inner bicep, big. It didn't heal as good as he'd liked, but chicks seemed to dig it. "Had to go to the hospital"

You, however, seem more into the... understanding side of it. Not on the thrill and the danger, but on the damage that's healed in time but never left. More on the pain, and not the punch.

"And this?"

"Gloves"

"What?"

"Gloves" he repeats, still not that loud, as if he's ashamed. "They can create cuts when the skin is pulled during a strike"

"I don't get it"

And instead of mocking you, Pedro finds himself trying to explain it.

"It's because of the friction of the gloves against the skin" he sighs. "Was too dumb and too full of myself to understand it. Then it happened and I got this"

"What has changed?" you tease him, but it's as tender as a lingering touch. "Don't worry, Pedro. Everyone makes mistakes, even the greats"

It's a rather sweet moment, only broken by your teeth sinking into the scarred tissue, yet you're quick to soothe it with a wet kiss.

He groans, head falling back as your greedy little hands now slide through the hard of his chest, his nipples perked under the cold of the water and the warm of your touch; body electric.

"Fuck, baby. You're going to be the death of me" he groans, shivering at your insistence on making him break. "Keep tryin', but you won't make me beg, muñeca" (doll)

Still hellbent on denying you of himself, the hotheaded stubborn prideful bastard. Not even with your tits in the air, bare cunt aching.

"No?" you feign innocence, batting those wet eyelashes of yours. Then your lips find his scars, licking and pressing sweet warm kisses across the expanse of his chest and body, ending on the one across his face. For a moment, he falters at the intensity of your gaze, almost slipping on the tiles. "Still no?"

You fucking minx. "Fighters don't beg" he says, but every contact of your lips and tongue against his wet body send bolts of electricity to his aching semi-hard cock.

"But real men do"

Without further ado, you descend until your knees hit the tiles, water running through your legs like a river. You don't wait for an answer, all you need to know in his parted lips and his deep stare at you through dark hooded eyes.

A low, guttural moan tears from Pedro's throat as your tongue flicks a quick lick at his sensitive head. He's grabbing your hair with rough hands, tangling into your damp curls, his hips jerking involuntarily as your lips wrap around the tip, tongue swirling and teasing the most sensitive parts.

"Fuck" he groans, "aren't you trouble, doll? Really gonna make me beg for that release, ain't you? With that tongue of yours"

You give another proud lick at his throbbing angry red flesh, head already leaking with precum.

"What'd your daddy think about his daughter sucking his best friend's cock in the showers?"

You ignore him, too busy lost in the way his cock throbs and pulses in your mouth, his balls tightening with a pressure that built more each passing second.

"Not a talker, huh? Were that loud mouth of yours go?" he teases, his grip not faltering on your hair. "That's what y'r daddy said. Or maybe he was talking of another daughter. Not this little obedient slut who devours my cock like she's starved" his voice is strained. "Such a good girl, though, taking care of an old man like this. You like how it tastes?"

You pull out, making him groan.

"Why'd stop?" his voice is strained, rough with desire. His pupils are blown wide, circling with desbelief and something more primal. But he'll never say that, will he?

Too bad for him, you don't know when to shut up. Or quit.

"I want to hear you say it"

He chuckles darkly, his grip on your hair tighter now. "What'd say?"

"Me? Nothing" your lips part, words slurring before you think better. "You is I wanna hear"

"Fucking cunt" his eyes darken, "think you can tease me and get away with it? No, you'll be a good little cocksleeve and take it all"

You moan at his lewd words, thighs clasping together in search for some relief for the pressure building on your bare cunt.

"That's right, you dirty cocksucker. Look at you, thinking you can bend a fucking champion like me"

He knew his power over you. Frankly, he had to thank your old man for fucking you up so bad. Pedro loved how all your resolute seemed to vanish in the air, looking so eager and willing, desperate to please him. Be it for praise or for how much you wanted this like him, but it is this what makes him feel like a true winner.

"Don't you wanna suck this dick so bad?" his thumb tugs down your lip, "Be a good girl and I might give it to you"

Just like that, you're done.

"Please, I want to be a good girl. Use me, fuck me with your mouth"

He lets out a growl, voice low and rough. "Oh, t's alright, muñeca. I'll use this dirty little mouth of yours, all right" he fists your hair again, pulling you closer. "Gonna fuck you so good, you'll be feeling me all week: every time you taste, swallow and speak. Fill your dirty mouth so good with so much cum, you'll be tasting it for hours, for days, 'n for the rest of your fucking life"

Pedro thrusts his hips forward, pushing more and more of his thick, hard cock past your lips. He sets a steady pace, eyes locked on your face as he fucks your mouth with deep strokes.

"Just like that" he praises, breaths sharp as he looses himself in how his girth is nestled in your mouth. "Take it all, like a good little girl. So show me, baby, show me how much you love the taste of my cock. How much you need it-- crave it"

Your moan gets lost in your constricted throat, struggling to take him deeper, breathing and swallowing almost impossible with his girth taking up all of the space inside of your mouth. If Pedro felt like a king before, now he feels like a god.

"Such a perfect little cock sleeve for me to use, to fill, to fuck" he groans, his hips picking up speed, thrusts growing harder and more urgent.

His orgasm starts building, and he knows it by the way his balls tighten and his cock pulses inside the heat of your throat. Pedro knows he's close to coming, that he's seconds away from it.

Even if he's lost completely in the act, he's foremost a gentleman, but when he's about to pull out, your hands grip tightly to this thighs, and hold him in place as he tries to move. A rush of lust washes him over the cold water, a dark desire coursing through him at your pathetic display of eagerness and desperation.

"Fuck, baby" Pedro's voice reduced to a low, guttural rumble as he gazes down at you. You swear you can see a brief glint of admiration on his eyes. "You want my cum that badly, muñeca? Do you want to swallow it all down like a good little slut?"

He's rocking his hips forward, burying himself balls-deep in your warm throat, his swollen cock pulsing and throbbing against your tonsils as his orgasm crashes over him. Pedro throws his head back as so do his eyes, body shuddering and convulsing as thick ropes of hot cum shoot from his cock.

"You're doin' great, baby" he pants, his grip on your hair tight as he grounds his hips against your face, pushing himself deep into your mouth as he physically could. "Show me what a good little cumslut you are and don't waste a fuckin' drop. Swallow it all"

Aren't you perfect? Gulping and swallowing, trying your best good girl shtick as you take everything he has to give you, his musky sweat filled scent up your nostrils, despite the soap still covering some of his body.

"Fuck, y/n" he groans, body going limp. He falls back against one of the shower's walls, chest up and down with uneven breaths. "Greedy little girl with a greedy little throat"

He slowly pulls out of your mouth, his softening cock slipping from your lips.

"Get up, baby. Your father's bill will be brutal if we don't hurry up" he hauls you up and into his arms. "But truth is, I'ont give a fuck. I'm still thinking 'bout your lips 'round my cock"

Before you say anything, he's dragging your body again like you weight nothing, but this time, it's to crush his hot desperate mouth into yours with a rough kiss. Pedro can taste himself mixed with your sweet and drool. He groans at that, the sound painfully animal.

"Hey" he gently tugs you, a mannerism you would never associate with him. "Where you think you're going?"

You blink once. Twice. Then again, slower.

"What are you talking about?"

Your back meets the wall, Pedro brutally slamming your body until the tiles dig into your skin.

"Ow- wait" you hiss, "the fuck's gotten into you?"

"Think I'll let you go after this?" he growls. Then, chuckles, darkly so. "No, baby. I gotta try first" his fingers grab the supple skin of your ass until you feel them melt into it. He then spanks it, creating a weird sound with the combined water droplets. "Need to see if the pussy is as sweet as your mouth. So be a good girl and let me handle this, alright? As I said, I still can"

And for a reason, that feels like a threat.

His calloused digits venture dangerously close to your entrance, fingers going in. He coats it with your slick, making him laugh that laugh uniquely his.

"Fuck, muñeca. You're as wet as this shower head" Pedro presses himself into you, his cock touching your stomach. "Don't ever try to lie to me again, I ain't no fool"

Traitorous body. But his seething voice, the way his dominance slithers into jolts through your slick folds. You whine, pressing your tighs together. Pedro's quick to see this, and before you get to say anything else, he parts them roughly.

"I said I ain't no fool" he grunts while rubbing the tip of his cock over your folds, applying pressure on your clit. "Bad girl"

No warning, just his cock slipping past your wet dripping folds. Your hands fly to reach his neck for support.

"S'fucking grabby" he teases, slipping his pulsating dick between your folds once more, pressing and then pushing in slowly.

He swallows your whimper in a kiss, your poor pussy stretching to accommodate his thick girth. His big hands pull your body closer to his.

"But I'm the grabby one"

He growls. "Quit talking"

With one brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, balls pressed against the flesh of your ass. You grip his hair, chocolate curls tangled between your fingers. He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours. The pain carries waves of pleasure laced within, despite his aggressive thrusting and quick pace. You roll your hips upwards, eliciting a faint whimper out of your lips.

"No, doll" his fingers dig in your waist, a purple soon to follow. "You do what I say, clear?"

His cock grinds forward, stretching you out.

"Fuck-!" you choke out, "Pedro!"

He growls when he hears his name on your lips, an all consuming desire to make you his washing over him.

He then grabs you by your legs, hooking them around his waist.

You mewl out his name in a cry.

"See?" Pedro blurts out. "Told ya' I still had it on me, baby"

Your hands scramble to grab him by his shoulders, the pain and pleasure making your head spin. He can feel your tits jump with each bounce provoked by his thrusts, the rosy skin pressed against his chest.

"Gonna fill you up so bad, you won't ever doubt me again"

Pedro pulls back and uses his arms to push himself up and hover over you. He began to drive his hips faster, loud clapping noises mixing with the falling water.

"I'm- I'm gonna"

"Ask, baby. Remember what I told you?"

"Yes. Sorry, daddy" you whimper. "Please, let me-"

"Let you what?" Pedro chuckles.

"Cum. Let me cum. Please, daddy, please" the words slurred as you feel yourself on edge.

"Very well" grinning satisfied, "but don't you dare keep any of those pretty noises just for yourself"

A high-pitched wails falls past your lips as you throw your head and eyes back, your legs shaking.

"Pedro-!"

He grunts at the sensation of your juices on his cock, coating it. In the way your walls flutter around his length, pussy tight making him groan against your neck, where he has now buried his face.

"Stay there, baby. It's my turn" his hips snap and his thrusts turn sloppy. "Gonna paint all of your tight folds with my cum"

His grip tightens as he fucks himself silly into you, chasing his high.

"S'fucking tight" he groans loudly. "Such a good girl for me"

He comes undone, salty hot ropes of thick white cum spurting inside of you, his cock deeply nestled inside of your welcoming warm walls.

"Fuck. Need to fill you up, doll. Until you're so stuffed you can't move without making a mess"

The water keeps falling, as you whimper softly, burying your face in his neck. Pedro keeps rocking into you while riding his orgasm out, soft breathless groans leaving him. He places you down, some of his cum on your thighs. He uses his finger to push it all inside.

"We have been to wasteful to keep on being, right?" Pedro jokes before closing the valve.

"Be honest. You don't give a damn about the planet"

He lets out a hearty laugh.

"Guilty as charged"

There's some silence before he's helping you get back on your shorts.

(He smacks your ass, saying you did it on purpose. You agree. After all, he's quick to know when you lie)

"Good girl" he praises with a small kiss. "Did so well for me"

You kiss him back, fiercely, your mouth practically sucking his lips.

"For good luck, daddy"

Pedro chuckles at your antics. "You fucking minx"

He leaves you after that, going for his stuff. But you stand still in the middle, lost like a little deer. Your ragged breaths fill the room, and he feels a little guilty about having fucked his best friend's daughter on his gym before leaving first thing in the morning to his home country.

"C'mere" you turn your head. "What? C'mon, don't leave me hanging"

You carefully make way to where he is, back in the same bench.

"Sit" he orders.

Oh, the irony of it all.

Once you take place next to him, he makes sure to remove a strand of wet hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear.

"When I win, which I will" you chuckle at his ego, "I'll be sure to remember you, doll"

So when your dad sends you a video of Pedro's match in Chile a day later and The Viper winks to the camera, you like to think it's for you.

[sturniololuvz]

Ok, feel free to ignore this if its super weird, but I was thinking; could you maybe write about the sturniolos sister, who just got her first boyfriend and like one night all three of them + her are sitting on the couch watching a show or doing their own thing or wtv, and she just randomly says something like, "what do I do if he asks me to give him head?" and all of them turn to her and are just like "...what?" Idk if this makes sense😭

omgggg yes lmaooooo

“Wait… WHAT?!”

Sturniolos x sister

The four of them were sprawled out on the couch, half-watching a random show that none of them were really paying attention to. It was one of those rare peaceful nights—no filming, no drama, just them hanging out as siblings.

Nick was on his phone, Matt was mindlessly scrolling through Netflix, and Chris was lying across the couch with his hood up, staring at the ceiling. Y/N sat between them, casually munching on a bag of chips.

And then, out of nowhere, she spoke.

“What do I do if he asks me to give him head?”

The entire room froze.

Nick’s thumb stopped scrolling. Matt’s eyes slowly lifted from the TV. Chris’s head snapped toward her so fast it was a miracle he didn’t get whiplash.

“…WHAT?”

Y/N blinked at them, completely unfazed. “What? It’s a serious question.”

Chris sat up instantly, looking personally offended. “NO, THE HELL IT’S NOT.”

Matt’s face was blank, like his brain was buffering. “Why are you asking that? Who is asking that? WHO IS THIS ABOUT?”

Nick just rubbed his temples, already feeling a headache forming. “Jesus Christ, Y/N.”

She sighed, throwing a chip at Chris. “Relax, it’s not that deep.”

Chris dodged the chip, eyes wide. “NOT THAT DEEP? NOT THAT DEEP? YES, IT IS.”

Matt leaned forward, his hands clasped together like he was about to have the most serious discussion of his life. “Start from the beginning. Who is asking you for head?”

Y/N groaned. “No one yet, I’m just saying if it happens, what do I do?”

Chris pointed at her. “You say no. That’s what you do.”

Nick scoffed. “Or you break up with him because why is he even asking that?!”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Oh my God, you guys are so dramatic.”

Chris threw his hands in the air. “We’re dramatic?! You just blindsided us with the most insane question of all time!”

Matt exhaled, running a hand down his face. “Y/N. Are you seriously thinking about doing that?”

Y/N shifted awkwardly. “I mean… I don’t know. I just—thought I should be prepared in case it comes up.”

Chris looked physically ill. “In case it comes up—EW, WHY WOULD YOU WORD IT LIKE THAT?”

Nick groaned. “Oh my God, I wanna die.”

Matt shook his head aggressively. “No. Nope. We’re not doing this. We’re not having this conversation.”

Chris crossed his arms. “Absolutely not. You’re too young for this.”

Y/N scoffed. “I’m sixteen.”

Nick shot her a glare. “And you’re still too young for this conversation.”

Chris pointed at her. “You are a child. My baby sister. You are NOT putting—”

“OKAY, WE GET IT,” Y/N cut him off, throwing a pillow at him.

Matt sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, if a guy ever pressures you into doing something you’re not sure about, he’s not the right guy. Simple as that.”

Nick nodded. “Yeah, and if he ever makes you uncomfortable, you tell us.”

Chris cracked his knuckles. “And then we kill him.”

Y/N gave him a deadpan look. “You’re not killing my boyfriend, Chris.”

Chris huffed. “Well, if he asks you for head, then maybe I will.”

Matt shook his head. “Alright, enough. This is officially the worst conversation I’ve ever had.”

Nick groaned, tossing his phone onto the table. “I need to bleach my brain.”

Chris shuddered. “I need therapy.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Next time, I’ll just Google it.”

Chris gasped so dramatically you’d think she just threatened his life. “ABSOLUTELY NOT.”

Matt sighed. “I’m going to bed. This night is ruined.”

Nick stood up, shaking his head. “Same. I literally cannot process what just happened.”

Chris pointed at Y/N as he stood. “You—stay away from Google. And boys. And everything.”

Y/N smirked. “Can I at least—”

“NO!” All three of them shouted in unison before leaving the room.

Y/N just laughed, grabbing another chip.

Honestly? Totally worth it.

[throatgoat4u]

late on the first day

word count: 0.6k

summary: it’s the first day of senior year, and dotty's already running late. of all classes, it had to be for your favorite class—art. just when you think things can’t get any worse... they do.

warnings: none :)

a/n: i lowkey already made this a like a month and a half ago but like............ yeah.... also this won the popular vote on what au i should release for next and so yeah. idk why i never put the intro to this au out but oh well. also, the reader's name will be dotty. also, the taglist is not official and is just a taglist of people who commented/reblogged the moodboards i had created so yeah! enjoy!

toodles sluts :)

you sprinted up the stairs, heart pounding as you weaved your way to the 2½ floor where the art wing was tucked away. there was no way you could be late—not on the first day of senior year, and definitely not to your favorite class. art had always been your escape. ever since you were little, you’d been an artist at heart, constantly sketching, coloring outside the lines (literally), experimenting with oil pastels, acrylics, and your personal favorite—watercolors.

but being the “art kid” had its downsides. while other girls were out at parties, shopping sprees, or obsessing over boys, you were lost in your sketchbook, shading imaginary worlds. it didn’t take long for people to notice how different you were. the teasing started small but grew sharper over the years, each comment isolating you a little more. by the time middle school ended, you were already used to being alone.

losing your best friend when she moved to another state only solidified it. since then, solitude had become your constant companion. but art? art was still yours. and that was why you couldn’t be late today. not when it was the one place you actually belonged.

you slipped into the classroom just as the bell rang, heart still racing from the mad dash up the stairs. scanning the seating chart at the front, you were relieved to find your assigned seat in the back corner, far from prying eyes. but that relief evaporated the moment you saw who you’d be sitting next to.

christopher sturniolo.

your blood ran cold. of course, it had to be him. chris wasn’t just popular—he was the most popular guy in school. every girl wanted him, and every guy either wanted to be him or be his best friend. there was no in-between. it didn’t help that he was the star of the hockey team, the golden boy who had secured a spot on varsity as a freshman and led the team to state championships every year since. he had it all: the looks, the talent, and, of course, the girl.

eva—the captain of the cheer team and the only girl who could possibly match his popularity. together, they were the school’s golden couple, envied and admired by everyone. chris was untouchable, living in a world completely separate from yours. he didn’t know you existed, and you were pretty sure he never would.

but you had noticed him.

in middle school, you had the biggest, most ridiculous crush on him. it started in sixth grade when he held the door open for you that one time, and it didn’t fade until the end of eighth grade. you were completely obsessed with chris sturniolo. you had filled an entire sketchbook front to back with drawings of him—his smile, his eyes, even the two of you together in scenes that only existed in your imagination. you remembered sketching his face more times than you could count, lost in a fantasy where he actually knew who you were.

but to him, you were nobody. just another face in the crowded hallways. he didn’t even know you well enough to recognize you as the girl who ate lunch in the bathroom or hid under the bleachers—just like everyone else did.

you tried everything to get over him that summer, finally deciding to write him a love letter, just like laura jean in to all the boys i’ve loved before. you poured your heart out in perfect penmanship, sealed it in a beautifully customized envelope with the prettiest wax seal you could find, and tucked it away in your love letter box, where it would stay forever, unread and forgotten.

or at least, that was the plan. but now, sitting next to chris for an entire the entire year? yeah, this was going to be a problem

taglist: @freshloveee. @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan. @heart-sdiary. @sturnshood

[higanbanaki]

Has anyone thought about a DDLC x ROTTMNT AU before. Like the turtles as the members of the literature club. Idk it just kind of occured to me but I'm not so sure who's gonna be who knowing their personalities aren't going to align completely together so this is more of a concept if anything

Initially I though Mikey as Natsuki because they're seen as the youngest of their group (and I'm saying seen here because it's not really clear with Natsuki), and while it's somewhat different with them, both have something to do with 'childish'. Natsuki, who's afraid of being perceived as childish for liking 'childish'/cute stuff outside of the club, so she builds up this tough exterior for those around her unless she 100% knows they're not going to judge her for it. And Mikey, who wants to be taken serious and seen as someone who can handle things responsibly.

Donnie and Yuri seems like an obvious choice, both are generally more quiet, seen as the sophisticated one amongst their respective groups, and passionate about topics they're interested in, I think they're also similar in a way that they think their work is better than the others with Yuri's poems compared to the club and Donnie with his inventions in general. But unlike Yuri, Donnie doesn't necessarily cares about what others think of him, knowing they'll never be superior over him.

After that I kinda had a hard time thinking who the other two would be. Like. I could see Leo being both Sayori AND Monika based on his general mannerism. But honestly? After some more thought I think he fits Sayori. Like, Sayori being the one in the club that broke off arguments despite Monika being the president and her struggle with depression & loving herself, to which she uses a cheerful personality to cope with.

Which leaves Raph to be Monika, being seen as the leader in general. I don't really see that much connection with these 2 compared to the other pairings, but I do think that like Monika, Raph highly hesitates to actually kill off his brother, to straight up just not doing it at all UNLIKE Monika. Like. I genuinely cannot see him trying to eliminate his younger brothers like that JUST for MC. He's kind to them, shows concern and thinks about their needs. He would never hurt them willingly. That's why exactly it hurts so much.

I did way too much thinking for this one and I might not even expand on it. On another note I should really replay DDLC

[peachesnpears95]

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

Shadowpeach (+ Shadowpeach being parents to MK) incorrect quotes -because my gallbladder is probably trying to kill me, and I'm in pain and bored- Round 2: GO.

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

WARNING SPICY/SUGGESTIVE LANGUAGE! DO NOT INTERACT IF UR NOT 18 OR OLDER!

WARNING SPICY/SUGGESTIVE LANGUAGE! DO NOT INTERACT IF UR NOT 18 OR OLDER!

WARNING SPICY/SUGGESTIVE LANGUAGE! DO NOT INTERACT IF UR NOT 18 OR OLDER!

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

Sun Wukong: I’m not lazy, I just find it hard to put effort into things I’m not passionate about.

Macaque: What are you passionate about?

Sun Wukong: Sleeping.

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

Sun Wukong: Look at me straight in the eyes and tell me the truth, Macaque!

Macaque: You can’t expect me to look into your eyes and be straight.

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

Macaque: You have to apologize to them Sun Wukong.

Sun Wukong: Fine! But I must warn you that this might make me a better, nicer person and that is NOT the person you fell in love with!

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

Sun Wukong: Hey, wanna take a dip in the hotsprings with me?

Macaque: I have a shadow version of your staff hidden under the roots of our Peachtree. If I ever say no to that question, I want you to take it to my skull and kill me because I’ve obviously gone crazy.

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

Macaque: You’d be stupid to lay a hand on me.

Sun Wukong: Oh, you’d be surprised how much stupid shit I do.

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

Sun Wukong: How the hell are you still alive?

Macaque: Honestly, I’m just as confused as you are. -This is what happened in Episode 9 of Season 1 when Wukong went to rescue MK and found Macaque attacking him.-

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

Macaque: Wow, Sun Wukong, you want to hold my hand before marriage? How awfully lewd of you.

Sun Wukong: We literally slept together yesterday.

Macaque: That's NOTHING compared to the lewdness of holding hands.

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

Macaque: Where are you going?

Sun Wukong: To either get peaches or commit a Holy felony. I'll decide on the way.

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

Sun Wukong: MK, what does IDK, ILY, and TTYL mean?

MK: I don’t know, I love you, talk to you later.

Sun Wukong : Alright, I love you too, I'll ask Macaque.

MK: Wait- Sun Wukong , no-

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

MK: Well, has Sun Wukong been wrong before?

Macaque: How wide are we willing to open this up?

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

Sun Wukong: MK, what do you have?

MK: A KNIFE!

Sun Wukong: Okay, have fu-

Macaque: NO!

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

MK: I just had a long talk with Macaque and Sun Wukong about hitting and now they are yelling “it’s my turn to perpetuate the cycle of violence” before hitting each other.

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

Macaque: What do you think MK will do for a distraction?

Sun Wukong: He'll probably, like, scream 'here comes Monkie Kid' or throw my staff around. That's what I would do. I would scream 'here comes Monkey King' and throw my staff around.

Building explodes and several car alarms go off

Sun Wukong: …or they could do that.

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

Sun Wukong: I have so much energy, I want to level a mountain or commit a crime… which should I do?

MK: Please don’t get arrested by Heaven.

Sun Wukong: No promises! <3

Macaque: Why not both? Get creative!

Sun Wukong: Wonderful suggestion, thank you.

MK: Please don’t encourage him, Macaque.

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

MK: I will find us a covered wagon and horses. If you two can manage to not kill each other while I'm gone.

Sun Wukong: Oh, please. We're not children, bud.

MK leaves

Sun Wukong, casually: … Eat the end of my staff and die.

Macaque, also casually: Yes, fuck you.

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

Sun Wukong: I hate you sometimes.

Macaque: Well according to this picture MK drew of us holding hands that's not true.

Sun Wukong: Macaque, you drew that.

Macaque: It doesn't matter.

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

MK: Monkey King won’t wake up, what do I do?

Macaque: Did you try whacking him upside the head with your staff, Kid?

MK: Yes.

Macaque: I’m out of ideas.

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

Sun Wukong: We're having a baby.

MK: Oh, congradu-

Macaque, slamming adoption papers onto the table: It's you, sign here.

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

WARNING SPICY/SUGGESTIVE LANGUAGE! DO NOT INTERACT IF UR NOT 18 OR OLDER!

WARNING SPICY/SUGGESTIVE LANGUAGE! DO NOT INTERACT IF UR NOT 18 OR OLDER!

WARNING SPICY/SUGGESTIVE LANGUAGE! DO NOT INTERACT IF UR NOT 18 OR OLDER!

[lazyblogposter]

Please please tell me I'm not the only one who ships Fyr and Neloth please I can't be the only one

[batcavescolony]

Katniss is such an unreliable narrator. She says "Then something unexpected happens. At least, I don't expect it because I don't think of District 12 as a place that cares about me" girl you deliver strawberries to the Mayor, you hunt and trade for the district, when you fell at Prim being chosen someone caught you, when you went to Prim people parted for you, when you volunteered EVERYONE stopped. Idk how to tell you but I think you're a pillar of the community.

[bandtrees]

they would get divorced in one universe just to find eachother in another one

alternatively titled: sometimes you're the level-headed token flesh-head impulse-control-and-polycule-member of a stubborn, eccentric, and hearty telephone-headed drug addict, and there's cruelty in the world you deem fit to suicidally fight, and that either goes about as well as you'd expect it to, or you learn about love and the value of your life and junk along the way

[horse-surgeon-barbie]

maybe we STOP playing house ,, we're not good at it

[skrunksthatwunk]

leaving home

[fumifooms]

"Marchil? I guess I can see it on Chilchuck’s end, but what about Marcille’s? What makes you think she could develop feelings for him?" I’m glad you asked!

The first thing to note is that she does think highly of him

In the page on the right, literally defending his virtues and literally comparing him to Dalclan. And oh…

She does love a brooding mysterious guy who closes himself to love. But surely, Chilchuck isn’t her type at all, right? He’s not princely or knightly at all. In apperances certainly not, both looks wise and demeanor wise, but then that’s why she seeks to know him on a deeper level, to not only look shallowly.

And hmm. Chilchuck really is quite selfless isn’t he? Always looking out for others, and saving specifically her often, always making sure himself and, staying in or even running towards danger for her sometimes. Modesty is often considered heroic…

And can we talk about that drowning one… You can definitely frame the special attention as him knowing she tends to hesitate or be clumsy, and then his insistance on pulling her out of danger that she’s the healer aka the most important to keep alive, but. From the one who says that he just keeps his ass out of fights and won’t help this is a lot of risk to take, and he does die trying to pull her to safety in the dungeon rabbits chapter. And the drowning bit??? That’s when the dungeon collapses. The only reason they DON’T die of drowning here is that the water then gives way to outside. There was NO hope of pulling her to safety here and resurrections would likely not work either, he truly preferred to die with her than try to survive himself.

Sit your ass back DOWN you are in no state, self-sacrifical hero much damn

And Marcille definitely noticed this imo, after all she loves learning all she can about him, remembering things like how he hates waiting on people too. She pays attention to him and what he does and what he says. This to say that it’s notable, whatever reason for it you may think (though we know by this point at least she was already aware he was an adult though it wasn’t internalized), out of everyone it’s Chilchuck’s bed that she wants to sleep in during the Golden Kingdom stay. He’s safe and comforting to her: dependable, the defining trait in her view of him as is shown by the relationship chart in the Adventurer’s Bible.

^ Lending handkerchiefs is a romance trope btw and handkerchiefs have irl history of being used for courting. Especially in old English literature and plays like Shakespeare’s Othello, and personally I do see a lot of Shakespeare in Dalclan (nobility political drama with some romance). There’s how his cowl is a dearly beloved souvenir from his family too, there’s a lot of aesthetic tropes you can apply to him.

All this to say you can 100% romanticize Chilchuck into a princely noble guy if you try and that’s exactly what Marcille does with the wife roleplay. She doesn’t need much in the first place, she latches onto crumbs and makes aesthetic narratives out of details, give her an inch she’ll take a mile.

But what’s interesting about the shift throughout the arc of her and his relationship is that she starts out idealizing him into a little angel of a kid (shapeshifter), and she ends it idealizing him as a virtuous husband and family man instead.

And what’s doubly interesting is that in the former, she’s actively warping who he is personality and demeanor wise to fit the aesthetic, he doesn’t have that bitter pride of not asking for help and the edges have been smoothened. But what she does during the wife roleplay is something else, she acknowledges the flaws and just… Accepts them, rolls with them. She’s aware of his flaws and implements them into the narrative, but the reason why his wife left doesn’t capitalize on them even, rather Chil is chilblivious and his wife loves him very much still, she’s just testing him after having had a night of feeling out of place at his side.

And this is what separates the idealization vs romanticization, she’s not twisting him into someone else she’s just uplifting what he is and focusing on the good sides.

Marcille: "he has a shitty personality sometimes but if he was my husband I’d still cherish him" "If I were your wife I’d be overjoyed to go out with you and would get myself prettied up while you complain about me taking a long time, your friends would tell me that I’m nice and that’d make me happy, but I’d also be sad because you wouldn’t tell me that you love me enough"

He’s angry and his wife left him, he’s *flawed*, but he’s still worth hyping up, still worth having his own romance story, still has a shot of winning back his beloved. She sees him for what he is, human and real and not a carefully scripted character that fits an aesthetic, and she thinks it’s still worthy of love and admiration and fighting for

And what’s funny too is that you might expect her to cool down on him once she learns more about him but actually she only gets increasingly into his business. You tell her your age and next thing you know you promise to introduce her to your family. Give her an inch she takes a mile. And too the thing is, Senshi is equally mysterious but she doesn’t pester him like at all, asks him ONCE about his succubus and he doesn’t even answer and that’s like… It. With Chilchuck it starts off innocently enough with her wanting to know his age, hometown, the stuff she mentions having asked pre-canon. But it just keeps and keeps going and escalating. Think she’ll be satisfied now knowing you have a wife and kids, maybe she’s disillusioned now? Wrong! She wants to know their names and ages and occupations and hey how did you propose to your wife? Do you think she’ll stop after meeting them? What’s next? What will she want to know next????

She’s… Like it’s not a reach that Marcille is all over him. Like it doesn’t mean it’s romantic but she just is. She is not normal about him idk. Can you not ask him about what tongue technique he used when first kissing his wife, give the man breathing room

Marcille could literally go "if I was Chilchuck’s wife" having deeply pondered and thought out the hypothetical and people would still ask where anyone sees any romantic potential between them. Oh wait

There’s a platonic explanation for everything (almost?) in Dungeon Meshi don’t say I’m saying otherwise, but it’s definitely not like there’s nothing here to read into lol

Going off a bit more under read bc it’s my fave topic

Marcille has a whole theme with the charming prince trope with her idealization and storybook motif and Chil is kinda the "Well someone perfect like that isn’t very realistic and romance is usually more complex and that’s ok and good and flawed people can still be ✨virtuous✨" catalyst

Do you see do you see she starts canon thinking the most romantic thing is a prince charming but her arc in the end has her romanticizing an average, flawed, real and realistic family man, who’s on the poorer side and is on the verge of divorce. And that’s what he needed, too, seeing the positive of himself and the situation instead of focusing on the negative is explicitly what inspires him to hope that he might be able to reconcile with his wife, gives him the courage and self-esteem to shoot his shot.

He IS a prince figure instead that now it’s not about idealizing the grand and overt it’s about romanticizing the small things in real life!! About finding joy and beauty in things that seem normal or mundane and uplifting them to make the world feel kinder!!!!

He’s the devoted virtuous man that she wantsss not the storybook prince that’s unrealistic and could crumble like a script at any time. He’s the perfect example of a flawed realistic but virtuous & devoted & loving man. Far from a prince charming, but not fully detached from it either. Something worth fighting for despite the flawed cracks. Like literally, flawed romance being worth fighting for is literally the finale of Chilchuck and Marcille’s arc on the matter, where their separate arcs and issues intersect at the most crucial moment.

Marcille is important to Chil’s arc not only because of her optimism, but also because of her interest and knowledge in romance & matters of the heart, and that’s what he needs to both open his heart up to hope and to try to reconcile with his wife, like idk sounds gay

Their arc together is literally learning to 1) see each other for how they are and not undermining their qualities capacities etc etc while still not leaving flaws unchecked either and 2) opening up to people. Marcille LITERALLY makes Chil open his heart up to hope like idk man. What do you want from me. He’s literally the guy helping her through deconstructing novels and fantasy and rose tinted glasses and like. Deconstructing the prince charming figure into something more real but still romantically beautiful like KUI KUI STOOOOP STOP I’M ALREADY HOOKED I’M ALREADY-

 Ok fine that’s me reading into the tropes too much forgive me for being storybook brained but like. Speaking his heart out to a lone woman on a balcony, Romeo and Juliette shit, asking if she, too, doesn’t want to meet his family, madly blushing. And like she’s learned with Chilchuck it’s all in the little things, all the implications he cannot speak aloud. She does reciprocate, does blush madly back, and the first thing she does is shower him in flowers and jewelry and what in her heart is coded as romantic gifts

A lady, stashed away in a high tower by her lonesome, waiting for someone to call out to her from below… Romeo courting type shit with an offer, a heartfelt spiel, implicit confession from underneath her balcony. Offering him flowers because he succeeded in calling out to her heart…….. And they have to climb to her too…. Crazy

Doesn’t it sound like a proposal. One that’s both so storybook-like and not, contrastedly real and grounded, all about the implications rather than in your face grand gestures, "Don’t you want to meet my family?". They literally have an arc about the topic of romance and this is the climax/pinnacle of it like god?? This is @ the woman who said "Chilchuck is a shy/bashful man so I know he wouldn’t tell me he loves me, but…" btw

To quote a friend, truly the shiny secret unlockable dating sim capture target : THE DUNGEON LORD BIT WAS SO FUNNY BECAUSE HE KNEW SHE'D TAKE IT HOOK LINE AND SINKER HES THE ONE WHO GOT HER TO TURN AROUND COMPLETELY SHES LIKE. WIDE EYED FLAG RAISED???? FLAG RAISED WITH CHILCHUCK 👀👀👀‼️👀👀‼️👀

And the way that this is the culmination of their arc together… Like people are not ready for the ‘Chil calling out to dunlord Marcille on the balcony has Romeo and Juliette romance novels imagery’ take. Or the ‘their arc is about growing to see beauty even in the non-idealized, in the flawed and in the real’ take which makes it so so perfect if she were to lower her ideal from a charming elven prince to a virtuous halfling man (which she does end up romanticizing)

So there, you got to witness in real time what happens when I think about marchil for longer than 2 minutes, there are so many layers it’s a deranged rabbithole. I saw the necronomicon of subtext and it’s driving me to madness with forbidden knowledge that no one else sees

……. Like what if I told you she implicitly picked Chilchuck over a "unrealistic prince charming who’s actually disingenuous" much earlier in the story already. If she was given the choice to think through going with a guy that seems perfect and chivalrous like her succubus she’d pick Chilchuck over the other actually. If I sound insane rn tune in for my full analysis on them coming this month hopefully thank youu. Interwoven arcs of fantasy vs reality and idealization vs pessimism I love youuu

So now you know the general thesis of my planned analysis about the importance of the prince charming figure in Marcille and Chilchuck’s arc, where she romanticizes things to a sometimes worrying degree or idealize people into something easy and digestible and poetic (like Chil being a kid, and then him being a virtuous ✨✨✨husband), and how she needs to value aesthetics less and actual acts and facts more, be more grounded (like seeing people for what they are flaws and all, and accepting that people need money and not pulling through on principles of honor or unity shouldn’t get Namari shamed) and a part of that is accepting that Chilchuck is BOTH flawed and virtuous, a loving husband that still has shitty moods and fumbled his marriage so bad etc etc. So it’s like, her image of perfect prince charming that will whisk you away on an ethereal romance -> realistic flawed middle aged dad with personality issues and a failing marriage but he still is worthy of love and having his cute grand romance story and his happy ending. Ik I keep repeating the same point through this but I need it to be burned into everyone’s brains it has its grip on me I can’t do this. They are so special……

[vice-like]

just saw this one in the main tag and it got me thinking... "wanting to do the right thing but having your actions distort your goals" is obviously about natori, he even reflects upon it directly more than once during the chapters BUT even tho world unbent is from natori's pov, i always thought it wasn't just about him but also about matoba and the exorcist world. for me it was clear that midorikawa wanted to expand upon the exorcists and thought natsume's pov wouldn't have been enough for this case (i also think she always wanted to expand upon natori's and matoba's younger days as well)

so with that in mind i tried thinking if that could apply to matoba too and it might be a stretch but i think it does, but in the sense that "the right thing" for matoba and natori are two different things and matoba might not even think abt doing it along those lines

like, from what we've seen, i interpret that matoba genuinely thinks the matoba clan has a responsibility to protect ppl, regardless if they can see yokai or not and he takes that very seriously, most recent example being what he said abt a previous matoba head being unable to protect the miharu; also to achieve this the clan must be powerful above all others and for that he needs to do anything and if he has a limit we haven't seen it yet. we see that during world unbent ("i won't let us fall"), but most recently during homura arc when he was willing to bet his own life just to be able to control a powerful vessel (being shortsighted enough abt the possibility that natsume had to snap him out of it), he's power hungry, but weirdly enough he's like that because it's "the right thing to do" or what he must/needs to do, the matoba must be powerful to be able to protect anyone and anything ("you can't protect anything if you're not powerful, shuuichi-san")

so "having your actions distort your goals", how does that apply to matoba in a world unbent? midorikawa was merciful enough to let us know his initial goal (or what he wants ppl to think his goal is?): "i'm looking for allies i can use" and at first he was definitely testing if natori could be that, but by the second part (that tellingly starts with a companion matoba artwork to natori's in the first part) i think he wanted to work with natori so badly simply bc he was a peer his age, probably the first and only in the exorcist world and for this interpretation i have no evidence just vibes lol besides this part in midorikawa's afterword from homura arc

anyways, for me this conversation during the second part of world unbent is the best example of matoba's actions distorting his goal:

in my interpretation matoba's goal here was to be picked by natori to be that person, to be his peer, to be the one that teaches him and works with him and "he's better" bc he's more powerful than takuma-san and that's a fact (also idt he wanted to be his "mentor" per se, i think he wanted to be closer than that but that's my bias lol). as i see it, matoba was not trying to bad mouth takuma (and i think natori understood that too), but simply stating what's most important: power, which is ultimately very different from the things that natori puts first, even tho he's also seeking to be a more powerful exorcist

another thing that is also funny about these two understanding but mostly misunderstanding each other is that natori wants to become powerful so he could be needed, so he can protect ppl, "do the right thing", which is the same but also different from the reason why matoba seeks power and the kind of power they seek is also different but the same in one aspect, natori wants spiritual power but also "power" to better himself, to be a better person, while the power matoba seeks is spiritual but also a power that will make the matoba clan unbeatable which can be power over ppl

the way his actions distort his goal here is this: natori focuses on the fact that matoba values spiritual power and the power one can have over another more than someone's character and what natori wishes to learn from ppl like takuma is how to be better as a person so he can carve his own path or at least finally find what his path even is and how to set himself in it. this blinds him to anything else, him and matoba are fundamentally different, end of story. and so from his pov he can not see what matoba is offering which was actually matoba's main goal in this conversation: "I can teach you, I can work with you, I can protect you, I can help you become more powerful, I can protect ppl, so you should stick with me, you sould use me instead of him" and matoba's shocked reaction is proof he was misunderstood and natori's reaction to this conversation was unexpected to him, if my interpretation of what he meant is right or not is up to debate tho

so if natori realises and reflects upon his "actions distorting his goal" does matoba do the same? and that's what intrigues me a lot here, because honestly i don't know, we are not shown that ever. does matoba realise how his actions can hinder his goals? does he care enough to reflect on it? does he care abt how he's perceived? does he care about how natori perceives him specifically? and honeslty the way he gets "worse" abt this in the present timeline (being an unsettling little shit especially towards natsume) makes the interpretation that he doesn't care enough to change and so doesn't reflect upon it seem plausible but when it comes to matoba maybe it's simpler that that:

from afterword for chapters 52-54

he's just like that, he is who he is, the matoba clan head but also matoba seiji and he's not afraid of his mistakes, he'll face them head on even if they distort his goals. most interesting tho, while i do think he's like that partially bc he's a little shit and likes having fun ruffling ppl's feathers, i think it's interesting how there's a possibility of him seeing that habit as a mistake, idk if that interpretation is right but matoba is a character that is difficult to interpret especially bc we dont get his pov, he's a confusing character and the fact we never get into his head makes him even more multifaceted. now that we're getting more into matoba clan drama maybe someday we'll get his pov, but until then ig it souldn't be too hard to think a person notices and reflects upon their mistakes right? well, unless the person is matoba seiji, then i dont know.

there's other things i want to talk abt here, especially the fact that natori wants to be needed and current timeline matoba might actually need him, but does natori know that? you think the "a burden can be shared" bs might be an indication that he does, but i don't think he actually does lol also the fact matoba was seeking someone to use but ended up wanting to be used instead to this day (and is ecstatic abt it during homura, one of the many reasons why he looks like he's having the time of his life during those chapters imo), idk just the fact natori recoils at the wording of "someone to use" but wants to be useful himself and matoba ends up wanting to be used by him so badly it's funny (and also a little sad). just these two always wanting the same thing but mostly not and understanding but mostly misunderstanding each other more than anyone ever could for one another, how they could go together seamlessly but mostly don't yet i dont have the capacity to expand upon those right now, midorikawa gotta give me more so, anyways

[computerboyboobs]

[seriousbrat]

minor death eaters active during the first wizarding war

I've created a list of my interpretations of the Death Eaters who we know participated in the First Wizarding War, specifically the ones we don’t have much canon info about because they’re very minor characters. For this reason I won’t include: Bellatrix, Lucius, Snape, Peter, Regulus, and Barty Crouch jr. (Reg and Barty are arguably minor but there’s soooo much meta on them, I can’t be fucked to add to it tbh lol)

This is loosely organised by rank or relevance to the story, which may be somewhat subjective. With each Death Eater I’ll start with what we do know or can infer from canon, then add my own personal headcanon and interpretations for each character— but I’ll still try to explain how these are based in canon. If you interpret them differently that's obviously fine haha, that's why it's an interpretation.

Quick note about Bellatrix and Lucius: I think it’s telling that they were both entrusted with Horcruxes, this points to them being very highly ranked among Death Eaters during the first war. So if they were included in this list they’d be at the top over Travers and Dolohov, for the record. I’ve also written about the fact that I think Bellatrix’s rank was unusual among female Death Eaters here.

DEATH EATER LIST -----------------------------------------

(If a first name is small and unbolded, it’s the name I’ve given them and not canon.)

JAGO TRAVERS:

I think since I just ended up liking his character, I’ve given Travers more importance than he may have actually had haha, but it is true that he addresses Bellatrix (or Hermione as Bellatrix) with familiarity and fearlessness, as an equal rather than a subordinate. He's even affronted when Hermione is rude to him, suggesting that this isn’t their typical dynamic— interesting since Bellatrix usually has no qualms being rude and impatient with other DEs.

We know he was responsible for the murders of the McKinnon family. Karkaroff names him as an important Death Eater, and he was sent to Azkaban at the end of the war.

My version of Travers is first and foremost a pragmatist. In canon he comes across as more composed, more rational than other Death Eaters. He has a "cool" "sharp" voice, he's much less emotional and more practical than Selwyn at the Lovegood house, and he displays moments of ironic, callous humour with 'Bellatrix.'

The way I see him he’s strategically-minded, cold, calculating, and intelligent; and unlike the sadistic Mulciber or self-interested Lucius, he is all about the mission, which he puts strictly before his own personal pleasure or status. He’s not motivated by passion like Bellatrix either, he simply believes Voldemort’s way is the correct way and seeks the most efficient way to achieve it.

This quality is what leads to his advancement in the ranks and makes him a very competent general. However, this also causes a rift among the higher-ranking Death Eaters; Travers and Rosier believe in a straightforward, warlike approach, whereas Lucius and Mulciber are more partial to subtlety and manipulation.

ANTONIN DOLOHOV:

Dolohov was among those sent to Azkaban after the end of the first war, a loyal supporter who didn't renounce Voldemort. Karkaroff tells the Wizengamot that he witnessed Dolohov torturing “countless Muggles and non-supporters” of Voldemort. He was involved in the murders of the Prewett brothers, along with four other Death Eaters. He's the first name given by Karkaroff.

A Dolohov is among the original Death Eaters mentioned as waiting in Hogsmeade when Voldemort interviews for the DADA post, I think it’s probable that this is the same Dolohov, so he was already serving Voldemort around the late 60s to early 70s.

His “twisted face,” proclivity for torture, glee after hurting Hermione, and particular hatred of Muggles all point to me towards a sadist who is nevertheless intelligent and competent.

‘Dolohov’ is a Russian name and it’s likely he was named after the character Dolokhov from War and Peace— which I’ve never read, but from some brief research, Tolstoy’s Dolokhov delights in causing misery in others, is clever, competent, ruthless, but reckless. I think this fits pretty well if we extrapolate these traits to Antonin Dolohov.

“…the very process of dominating another’s will was in itself a pleasure, a habit, and a necessity to Dolokhov.”

The way I’ve used Dolohov is that he’s responsible for bringing in supporters from abroad, one of these being Igor Karkaroff— in W&P Dolokhov manipulates young men into joining his gambling circle, so I see this as a fitting role for Antonin Dolohov, who I think was of Russian ancestry but born in Britain, though still able to use his connections abroad. Despite Dolohov’s sadistic nature, I also see him as strategic, pragmatic, and dedicated, and so he falls more into Travers’s camp than Lucius’s.

EVAN ROSIER:

Evan Rosier is among the younger generation of Death Eaters, because he’s mentioned by Sirius as having gone to school with Snape. However this could make him either closer to Bellatrix/Lucius in age, or closer to Snape/Avery/Mulciber. There’s also a Rosier who was one of the original Death Eaters (I’ll talk about him below) and it’s possible that this is Evan’s father. The Rosiers are part of the Sacred Twenty-eight.

As for Evan himself, he’s the second name given by Karkaroff as an “important Death Eater.” We also know that Evan Rosier “preferred to fight rather than coming quietly,” and managed to blast a chunk of Moody’s nose off in the struggle before being killed.

Building from the fact that he fought to the death rather than being imprisoned, managing to permanently injure Moody, my version of Rosier is a proud, skilled, merciless fighter. He has a single-minded commitment to his cause— the supremacy of pureblood wizards. He will stop at nothing to achieve this and is fiercely loyal to the Death Eater cause and Lord Voldemort, even over himself. He is traditionalist and reserved, but violent and remorseless.

Being that Karkaroff names him as important, I think he rose quickly through the ranks after leaving school because of his skill and dedication. His impatience with what he sees as “frivolity and mind games,” as well as his preference for straightforward violence and direct action put him at odds with Lucius Malfoy, and in allegiance with Travers.

EVELYN MULCIBER (MULCIBER JR.):

My personal favourite Death Eater after Snape, though for very different reasons lol. We know he went to school with and was friends with Snape and Avery. Curiously he’s not named by Sirius in GoF, but I think this can just be put down to Sirius listing names as they occur to him rather than being wholly accurate. Mulciber and Avery’s sense of humour is described by Lily as ‘evil,’ and she describes Mulciber himself as ‘creepy.’ He attacked Gryffindor Mary MacDonald with unknown dark magic, for “a laugh,” according to Sev.

Personally, I think this is implied to be an attempted Imperius Curse, since Karkaroff tells the Wizengamot that the Imperius Curse was Mulciber’s speciality and that he “forced countless people to do horrific things.” Mulciber is sent to Azkaban at the end of the war.

From this we can conclude that he was either notorious enough not to be given the benefit of the doubt like Avery, or that he was loyal enough to not renounce Voldemort. We also have my favourite quote of all time— jkr said in an interview that Snape “wanted Lily, but he also wanted Mulciber.”

The Mulcibers are not part of the Sacred Twenty-eight, but as I’ve said previously, there could be various explanations for this. A Mulciber is part of Voldemort’s original Death Eaters, this is possibly Mulciber jr.’s father.

I think it’s pretty easy to deduce that Mulciber was sadistic and manipulative. I’ve written a lot about my interpretation of Mulciber on here— I see him as a narcissist, an opportunist, very skilled at identifying potential assets and manipulating people to his advantage. I think that Mulciber spotted Snape’s ability and put considerable effort into securing his friendship and loyalty, positioning himself as a sympathetic, understanding figure that Snape would admire and want to be friends with. The Imperius is just a literal form of manipulation, so the fact that this is Mulciber’s speciality leads me to think that he himself was a natural manipulator. He sees people as tools but is nevertheless very adept at preying on their desires and insecurities, he’s clever and has well-developed social skills.

His proclivity for the Imperius was no doubt incredibly useful for the Death Eaters, which is why he was given importance despite his youth, and he would have been more aligned with Lucius’s subtle, diplomatic approach rather than Travers and Rosier.

PRESTON AVERY (AVERY JR.)

My other detestable fave. Along with Mulciber, we know that Avery was friends with Snape in school, and that his sense of humour was ‘evil.’ There are a few things that distinguish Avery from Mulciber: for instance Mulciber was the instigator of the attack on Mary, not Avery, and also Avery escaped Azkaban by saying he was under the Imperius curse and did not attempt to seek Voldemort out.

In the graveyard, Avery flings himself at Voldemort’s feet and begs his forgiveness, specifically in a ‘shriek,’ before Voldemort tortures him. In OotP Avery gives Voldemort incorrect information about the prophecy in the Dept. of Mysteries, and is tortured for this mistake. Haha poor Avery never catches a break (he deserves it tho.)

An Avery is mentioned as being part of Riddle's gang in Slughorn's memory, this is possibly Avery's father. Karkaroff does not name him, meaning he was either unimportant or unknown to Karkaroff, or both.

Sirius says that Avery ‘wormed’ his way out of Azkaban, and given that Sirius knew him at school I think this is indicative of Avery’s character, as is his shrieking and flinging for Voldemort’s forgiveness. So in my mind he’s sly, devious, and self-serving, since unlike his fellows Mulciber and Rosier, he isn’t willing to die or be sent to Azkaban for Voldemort.

It's unclear why he would have told Voldemort that Bode could steal the prophecy-- perhaps he worked for the Ministry after the war.

I’ve leant quite heavily into the ‘evil sense of humour’ for Avery, and given him a very twisted, specifically misogynistic humour, as this is common in teenage boys (and I think it's a vague possibility that Mary’s attack might have been sexual in nature.) For Lily to mention him, Avery had to have pulled his own weight in the evil sense of humour department.

There’s a pathetic element to him too, he’s not quite as clever nor talented as Mulciber and Snape, though still conniving enough to avoid Azkaban. His begging for forgiveness in the graveyard suggests to me that he thought speaking up would be a strategic way to avoid Voldemort’s displeasure, and he was sadly mistaken. I think his claiming Bode could remove the prophecy was a similar, and similarly misjudged, attempt to gain favour.

AUGUSTUS ROOKWOOD

I actually think Rookwood should go above Avery, but Avery in my heart is a more relevant character, so there you are. But Rookwood is named by Karkaroff, right after Travers and Mulciber, and we know he was a spy based in the Department of Mysteries, a fact which was unknown to the Ministry until Karkaroff’s trial.

Ludo Bagman also describes “old Rookwood” as a friend of his dad’s, meaning he was probably an older gent, and Bagman also says “Rookwood kept talking about getting me a job in the Ministry later on.”

According to Karkaroff, Rookwood had a network of informants inside the Ministry and out— since we know one of these was the unwitting Bagman, it’s likely other informants were also unaware of what they were doing. Rookwood uses the promise of a Ministry job to wheedle info from Bagman, meaning he was presumably well-placed enough in the Ministry to be able to offer a job, and also clever and conniving enough to know how to manipulate people into giving him intel. (tbf Bagman was probably an easy mark, but Rookwood was able to spot that.)

Since Rookwood’s identity was unknown for so long and only given up by Karkaroff post-war, I think it’s safe to assume he was very competent as a spy, intelligent and careful. It’s likely that not many Death Eaters knew about him (as Karkaroff states, many of them didn’t know about each other) and I doubt the Order would have, either. It probably was just bad luck for Rookwood that Karkaroff somehow did find out at some point, since I think it’s most likely that Snape didn’t know— or else Dumbledore and the Wizengamot would have already been aware.

This for me means I can’t really include him much in my fic in anything other than hints and cameos. Since Bagman and his father both like him, I think his outward persona at least was probably charming and friendly. In his mugshot he's leaning against the frame and looking bored, which I think is indicative of his true personality: ruthless, cold, indifferent. The charming persona is a carefully and cleverly constructed mask.

RODOLPHUS LESTRANGE

The reason Rodolphus and his brother aren’t higher up is that I don’t think they were as nearly as important/relevant as Bellatrix. Outside of the Pensieve trial they’re barely ever mentioned, they’re present at a few battles but never given any protagonism. Tellingly, Bellatrix herself doesn’t mention or interact with her husband once. We know he was ‘tall and thickset,’ that he and his brother participated in the torture of the Longbottoms, and were among Voldemort’s loyal supporters who didn’t renounce him after the war.

A Lestrange is in Riddle's group at school- this is either the father/other relative of Rabastan and Rodolphus, since Sirius implying Rodolphus was in school with Bellatrix means it can't be Rodolphus himself.

My view of Rodolphus is that he followed his wife’s lead, as she was the dominant partner. I don’t think he was clever or talented or ambitious enough to distinguish himself as a leader in his own right, and that he was primarily useful to Bellatrix for his wealth and pureblood name. In my opinion Bellatrix didn’t really like her husband, in fact she almost just tolerated him while having affairs not only with Voldemort but other men (when Voldemort didn’t pay her attention) and Rodolphus was largely oblivious to this lol. The Lestrange brothers were decently ranked, but this is owing more to their wealth and pureblood name (and association with Bellatrix) rather than their ability.  

RABASTAN LESTRANGE

A lot of what I’ve said for Rodolphus goes for Rabastan, but I'll add a few things. First is that I think Rabastan provides an explanation for why Sirius names Bellatrix and Rodolphus as part of Snape’s group in school, even though this is unlikely given their ages. Rabastan was almost certainly the younger brother since Bellatrix would have married the Lestrange heir, he’s described as thinner and more nervous than his brother in the Pensieve, which also fits with him being younger.

So, my theory is that Sirius was just describing a specific ‘group of Slytherins’ as a whole throughout the years, and that there was some overlap and changing of members as people entered the school or graduated from it. Bellatrix was perhaps the leader of that group when she was at school, which would have included the younger Rabastan— then, if either Mulciber or Avery were slightly older than Sev, they’d have potentially been in Bellatrix’s group but almost certainly in Rabastan’s.

About Rabastan himself, the description of him being thin and his “eyes darting around the room” make me think he's slyer and more unassuming than his brother, easily overshadowed by Rodolphus and certainly Bellatrix. There’s something more calculating about him too, but his subservience to his brother and sister-in-law means he stays somewhat in the background.

WALDEN MACNAIR

We’re introduced to Macnair as an executioner working in the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures— however, it’s mentioned in the graveyard that Macnair wasn’t doing this job during the first war, and Voldemort then offers him “better victims.” It’s possible to interpret that Macnair was younger, since he wasn’t yet established in his career during the first war. This isn’t necessarily the case but Macnair is also described as muscular in PoA which gives the impression of a younger, fitter man.

Macnair is one of the Death Eaters who was sent to liaise with the giants. He didn’t search for Voldemort after the downfall, and the other thing to note is that Macnair is genuinely frustrated about not being able to execute Buckbeak.

So I think we can infer that Macnair is violent and bloodthirsty, with a particular penchant for cruelty towards animals/magical creatures. A connection can be made between Macnair being an animal executioner and the fact that he was sent to the giants. Personally I’ve used Macnair in a similar way, involving him in the recruitment of Fenrir Greyback and other werewolves.

The fact he uses an axe instead of magic to execute Buckbeak is odd; either this is a very outdated, inhumane practice of the Committee itself, or Macnair's choice because idk he just loves violence. I tend to think it's the first, though I'm sure Macnair has no complaints about it.

I’ve characterised Macnair as being generally smooth and swaggering, kind of debonair and very full of himself, literally just because of his muscles and moustache lol. But he has a cruel sense of humour, liking for violence and deep disdain for non-humans especially but also Muggles and Muggleborns.

FULGENCE NOTT

Not(t) much is known about Theodore Nott’s father, who is described as a ‘stooped man,’ and this plus his single line of dialogue (‘My Lord, I prostrate myself before you, I am your most faithful –’) paint a picture of a sycophantic, obsequious, pretentious but fairly pathetic man haha. He was likely decently ranked, like the Lestrange brothers, due to his family name. He escaped Azkaban.

Not only are the Notts part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, their ancestor Cantakerus Nott is also believed to be the author of that list. We also know that Nott Sr. was friendly with Slughorn and an old favourite of his, and that he’s a widower, having lost his wife when Theodore was young (this is probably supposed to be the death that Theodore witnessed.)

A Nott is also one of the Death Eaters waiting for Voldemort during his interview with Dumbledore, and in this case it’s likely the same Nott, meaning he was already serving Voldemort by the early 70s.

I don’t have much to add about Nott, his being an old favourite of Slughorn fits with his sycophantic personality, and with the idea that he was in Voldemort’s gang at school and part of the original Death Eaters. I've given him the unfortunate name Fulgence because he's so pathetic in such a pretentious way lol.

CORBAN YAXLEY:

I don’t think Yaxley was particularly high-ranking until around DH, when the power vacuum left by Lucius’s fall from grace provided him an opportunity. Snape names Yaxley in HBP as one of the Death Eaters who avoided Azkaban and never attempted to seek Voldemort out, and he wasn’t at the battle of the Dept. of Mysteries, but he was arrested at Hogwarts after Dumbledore’s death.

He has a 'heavy, brutal face' and 'blunt' features which I think gives a clue to his personality, but of the DEs in the Astronomy Tower he also seems to be the most sensible and focused on the mission. He also comes across as confident and self-assured when he speaks at Malfoy Manor in DH, while 'determined' to gain Voldemort's approval.

In the Astronomy Tower, he appears to be the senior Death Eater as he gives Greyback orders— however, I think it’s worth noting that the Death Eaters present on the Astronomy tower (except Snape) were not high-ranking in general. I think this is purposeful; Voldemort sent in expendable soldiers whose job it was to keep the Order busy while Draco or Snape assassinated Dumbledore, and it's also true that many high-ranking DEs were arrested at the Ministry at the end of OotP.

So, I think during the first war Yaxley was really a foot soldier, though one of the more competent ones. I think he was probably ambitious and sought to rise in the ranks, but it was the fact that he was lower-profile than someone like Mulciber or Bellatrix that allowed him to get close enough to Thicknesse to Imperiuse him in DH, then later become Head of Magical Law Enforcement.

Because of her notoriety the general public might have had a harder time accepting Bellatrix in that post, but since Yaxley was a relative unknown he was a good choice, even more so because he proved himself by Imperiusing Thicknesse. I think the same mostly holds true of the Carrows teaching at Hogwarts but I’ll get to that.

IGOR KARKAROFF

I almost didn’t include Karkaroff in this list because we do see quite a lot of him as a character, but I think there are a few things worth pointing out. First is that Karkaroff flees when the Dark Mark burns in GoF, and he gives up fellow Death Eaters to avoid Azkaban— inherently he is cowardly and disloyal, and also not wise enough to realise that he would certainly be tracked down in the end.

Second is the fact that Karkaroff is foreign. In DH before the Gringotts break-in, Travers treats ‘Dragomir Despard’ with distaste and obvious xenophobia, so I think the same would have applied to Karkaroff. On the other hand, Travers quite easily accepts the idea that they’d recruit a foreign wizard, so this is probably something they’d done in the past.

Like I said in Dolohov’s section, I think Karkaroff was recruited by Dolohov, since both names seem to be Russian. This personal connection also explains for me why Karkaroff would name Dolohov first.

Draco claims that Lucius knows Karkaroff, but this is likely Draco exaggerating his father’s importance, plus the fact that as Headmaster of Durmstrang Karkaroff would be of more relevance to Lucius than during the war.

Karkaroff doesn't name Lucius at his hearing; I think we can infer that the Death Eaters that he does name are those that he worked with, or else he would have named more people when he started getting desperate. In fact the order Karkaroff names them in (Dolohov > Rosier > Travers > Mulciber > Rookwood > Snape) might be somewhat indicative of who he knew best and considered most important. Karkaroff's testimony has been much more useful to me than it was to the Ministry haha, thanks Igor.

DEVEREUX WILKES

Pretty much nothing is known about Wilkes, other than the fact that they were a contemporary of Snape and died in the first war. Not even their gender is known.

So we’re free to do literally anything with Wilkes. I’ve chosen to interpret the fact that he died (my version is male, since there are very few female Death Eaters) as being due to incompetence rather than nobly going out fighting the way Rosier did. He’s sycophantic, entitled, and ambitious but all around rather pathetic, and not as skilled nor clever as he thinks he is. I don’t think he’d ever be more than a foot soldier. Again though, there’s no canon info to base anything off other than the fact that Wilkes was youngish and died— and also arguably the lack of information itself might imply Wilkes just wasn’t ever very important haha.

ALECTO AND AMYCUS CARROW

Lumping these guys together. The Carrows are fairly established characters so I won’t talk much about Alecto and Amycus themselves. Their speech comes across as more working-class than other Death Eaters, they’re present in the group that infiltrates Hogwarts in HBP (see Yaxley’s section for more on this) and they’re not mentioned in the graveyard despite avoiding Azkaban, so I tend to think that they were very low-ranked during the first war, basically expendable foot soldiers.

Like Yaxley, I think they were given their positions at Hogwarts because of their lack of notoriety, but unlike Yaxley I think they were relegated to a relatively easy job, under the guidance of Snape, because they weren’t useful or talented enough to be needed elsewhere.

It's also possible that Snape asked for the Carrows because they'd be easier to control than other Death Eaters.

Alecto Carrow is the only named female Death Eater apart from Bellatrix. Alecto is one of the Furies from Greek myth, vengeful goddesses who punish mortals, which I think is fitting.

JERVAISE CRABBE / TITUS GOYLE

I’m putting these together too because I’ve recently written an entire meta about Crabbe and Goyle and their dads and that’s already way too much for me. Also they’re basically indistinguishable from each other. Find that post here, the main thing is that I think they were also low-ranking foot soldiers. Beats me why Voldemort decided to specifically call them out in the graveyard.

Crabbe Sr. is present at the Department of Mysteries, Goyle Sr. is not, that's literally the only difference between them, so maybe Crabbe was a bit more important/talented/something than Goyle. Who cares, honestly.

FENRIR GREYBACK

Yes, Greyback is more relevant than many of the above. However, he’s almost certainly the lowest-ranking, as he never has a Dark Mark. In fact, I think that while he was aligned with the Death Eaters during the first war, he wasn’t actually formally recruited until around HBP, and he never had full Death Eater status. In Snape’s memory, Dumbledore comments that Voldemort has recruited Greyback, implying he hadn’t been recruited before that. Mainly I just wanted to point this out, because we do know quite a lot about Greyback as a character.

The other important thing is that Greyback is treated with contempt and revulsion by other Death Eaters, he’s generally subservient to them, even though some of them seem to fear him. My theory is that the Death Eaters were considering using Greyback during the first war but were not willing to afford him even informal Death Eater status-- they only did this later, when the reduction in ranks following the arrests at the Dept. of Mysteries necessitated more recruits. This is also why the Carrows and Yaxley would have become more important around this time.

-----------

If you made it through all that I am very surprised. Obviously this is how these characters appear in my series The Darkest Days and in fact this list really started off as a way to organise my characters haha. But maybe it can be useful or interesting to someone, i don't know!

OTHER NOTES:

There are also Death Eaters known to have participated in the second wizarding war, but it’s never mentioned whether they participated in the first. Since I’ve already got way too many characters on my hands with the above, I’ve chosen to just not include them or bother fleshing them out lol. They may or may not have been there, in general I think it’s likely that they were.

These are: Thorfinn Rowle, Selwyn, Jugson, Gibbon. I think Jugson, given he was at the Dept. of Mysteries, and Rowle, given that characters recognise him from wanted posters, are the most likely to have participated in the first war. With the possible exception of Selwyn, all seem to be pretty low-ranking.

The Three Dads: so these are the fathers (or other relatives) of Avery, Mulciber, and Rosier, who are all part of Voldemort’s original Death Eaters. They are mentioned in Pensieve memories but never in the context of either war. My view is that in these cases (Rosier, Avery, Mulciber) the sons were more active as Death Eaters during the later years of the war, on the battlefield and otherwise, whereas the fathers acted more as shadowy benefactors/financial backers for Voldemort’s interests, using their money and social influence and sending their sons to fight for them, but also having plausible deniability if their sons got caught.

Even though they’re not very relevant themselves, I actually have fleshed them out a bit just because their sons are important characters in my fic. None of this is really directly based in canon, since there’s no info, rather I’ve built their characters around their sons. So this isn't canon, just read if you're interested:

Aymeric Rosier (Rosier Sr.): I see Rosier Sr. as cold, distant, and domineering. He is cruel to his sons and inflicts harsh punishments on them, and is also an avid Nogtail hunting enthusiast. Their house is filled with hunting trophies, dead and stuffed animals— many of them exotic animals hunted on holidays abroad, mainly to India and Kenya, where he has business interests. You can see where I’m going with this— an imperialist, basically.

Erastus Mulciber (Mulciber Sr.): I mentioned that the Mulcibers aren't part of the Sacred 28, in my mind this isn't because the Mulcibers aren't a prestigious and wealthy pureblood family, but because a specific relative ruined it for them in recent history by marrying a Muggle-born. All members of this branch of the family mysteriously disappeared on holiday in 1942. Mulciber Sr. himself is for this reason very proud, haughty, defensive of his family's superiority, and he has passed down these traits to his son.

Enoch Avery (Avery Sr.): I mentioned that I characterise Avery jr. as a misogynist, and this comes from his father, who is a known rake and frequently conducts extramarital affairs. He is distant from his family and has high, unreachable expectations of his son, who is eternally trying to please him to no avail. Unlike his son, Avery Sr. is charming, charismatic, competent. Avery jr. simultaneously resents his father and seeks his approval.

There’s also a Lestrange mentioned in Slughorn's memory, but personally I think it’s quite possible that he’s dead since Rodolphus and Bellatrix are in possession of the Lestrange vault and fortune by the time Voldemort hides the Horcrux.

[kibby-reaper]

disclaimer: mod reaper and i made this when we were only several weeks into the game

- mod kibby

[kaiserouo]