#knife wielding bastard

[ndyp-thot]

Well look what day it is. And who better would celebrate it.

Our lil knife wielder, Psy.

Animation by: Dennis Buara

[knifefightandchill]

RESIDENT EVIL 4 (2023)

You haven't changed a damn bit.

[mentattea]

sometimes i like to think that even though Feyd and Piter never got along well, they sort of existed in a precarious truce, involving training and breakroom gossip. "being the baron harkonnen's youngest nephew will have you 16 years old with a ??? year old deranged human PC like damn where tf Piter at today"

[sege-h]

I haven’t seen anyone talk about this and I can’t stop thinking about it so

Mimic is being his usual bastard self with his new cat form alone

Note the hair/head shape, the muzzle shape, long tail and the chest marking (and even the scarf a little bit)

He’s basing this form on his old teammate that he, y’know, betrayed and killed

BASTARD SUPREME

[spaceandfiction]

I waited all season for the women to let the leash off their murderous impulses and instead they had a tender conversation about letting go and giving the other person what she wants...where is my toxic yuri

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Yandere Pyramid Headcanons

Warnings: Possessive Behaviour, Unhealthy Behaviour, Pyramid also exists in the version of Silent Hill before the Church Bell Rings, Mention of Physical Attack on Reader, No Pronouns used for Reader Except ‘You’.

Possessive ahh monster man.

Keeps you in a safe, isolated location far from the epicentre of the town so that the only monster you’re at risk of is him.

Scary dog privileges :>

Does anything and everything you ask him to, no matter how trivial the task. Unless you ask him to let you go outside.

Even if the other creatures aren’t wandering around and prowling the streets at that moment, he refuses to let you out.

Unless you give him the puppy dog eyes, which, to his absolute confusion, he found himself unable to resist.

But only once.

You used Pyramid’s weakness for cuteness against him and, when he heard a sound in the distance – the all-too familiar ringing of church bells – and turned to face the origin, you took your chance to escape.

You knew the monsters would come as the world around you peeled, revealing a hellish, rust-ridden, infested reality which, in your terror-stricken state, you didn’t think you’d be around long enough to be at risk of.

Of course, you were cornered.

Of course, just as you were about to become a commemorative name and face on a t-shirt at the hands of a monstrosity, Pyramid Head stepped in and wiped that jittering, straight-jacketed bastard off every map there was, physical and spectral.

Much like the very day he met you. Took you (for what purpose, you still do not know).

He’s never let you out of his sight since.

Keeps you by his side when he’s on a supply run since he can’t trust you to remain in the safety of whatever building he’s fortified.

You might not know it, given his involuntarily stoicism, but Pyramid Head is constantly watching you.

Sure, you may get the feeling you’re being watched, but in a town like Silent Hill, that’s practically a birthright.

And besides, Pyramid doesn’t have any eyes…you think ? So how can he possibly be watching you ?

If you try to chance your arm and run away, he uses his knife as a deterrent.

Slams it down right where you’d be if you had been a second quicker.

He’d never hit you. Not intentionally.

His strength and eternity of wielding the blade makes it as easy to control it as if it were his arm, or an extra limb.

But you don’t need to know that.

He’s lowkey a sucker for physical contact btw.

Once, he found you standing closer to him than usual when the day grew particularly cold.

He wasn’t sure what you were doing at first until you flat-out muttered about “How frigid” it was.

Clouds seemed to form before your face, a human anomaly Pyramid hadn't witnessed this close before. If ever.

This man has no clue how to help you, so he just kind of watched as you gave him a wide-eyed look and, quivering, approaching him as if he were a feral dog (why did you look so scared of him…?), leaned against his side.

He shifted, jumped, stepped back.

What was this feeling ?

His heart spiked, his skin prickled.

Alarmed, you sprang back, and he couldn’t articulate the response to tell you to stay, come back, I’m sorry.

When the two of you finally resumed your journey to nowhere, he walked a little closer to you, inching nearer every few minutes until his hand brushed your side.

And you didn’t pull away :> !

Eventually, when you grew tired, you settled in a decrepit little room that, much like the rest of the town, looked as if it would fall apart if you so much as gave it a mean look.

In a rare act of humanity, Pyramid sat beside you.

And he damn near jumped out of his skin (again) when, unprovoked, you leaned against him.

He made sure not to spook you. Not again.

He couldn’t handle that wounded stare you’d given him earlier. It made him feel…weak. Vulnerable. Human.

And he did not enjoy it.

Well, that's what he thought at first. Before the warmth of something unidentifiable settled in his chest.

From then on, he started taking you out during the colder hours of the day just for the chance to have your skin brush against his.

And each time, that feeling, that tightness in his chest, would spark, set him alight with a fluttering sensation he'd never known before he found you.

Until you got sick. Then he toned it down a little.

But only because he couldn’t enjoy his solitary walks to where he knew medicine lay, too concerned with wondering why you were jerking, and why you sounded like you were roaring whenever you opened your mouth and your eyes squeezed shut, or why liquid would pour out of your nose.

Bless him, he doesn’t know what a cold – or sickness – is. But he does know that, when you lay on top of him and basically used him as your bed, curling up on his chest, he thought he’d seen light.

Real light.

Has resisted the urge to try and make you ill again just for that purpose.

Luckily, your random acts of affection – hand holding (or finger holding, since your entire hand could wrap around one of his fingers),  nuzzling, leaning on him, saying “Thank you” whenever he returned with the supplies – keeps his unhealthy tendencies at bay.

Well, most of them at least.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterpost

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

[spacerockfloater]

Every time Team Black stans talk about Rhaenyra’s bastards and the Dragon Twins as if they’re blessings upon this earth, an angel loses its wings.

Like, okay. They’re children, I’m excusing all of them up to a certain point. But they’re some of the most vicious, aggressive, cowardly, snotty brats we’ve ever seen in this franchise and pretending that they’re not is so foul.

Lucerys is a hypocritical twat that bullied the boy he grew up with because he didn’t have a dragon, but then he’s totally okay hanging out with Rhaena who doesn’t have one either. And then he pulls out a knife and blinds Aemond for no fucking reason, after his gang attacked him first, and faces zero consequences for his actions. He eventually grows up to become an even worse person by literally laughing in his cousin’s face, whom he disabled. And then he tries to boss lord Borros around by telling him that he’s obligated to ally with Rhaenyra even if there isn’t anything in him for it.

Jacaerys is also very two faced for the exact same reasons as Lucerys, with the addition of having anger management issues. Like, remember how he beats the living shit out of his little brother when they’re training at the beach, kicks him to the ground and grabs him by the throat because he is upset their uncles are better warriors than them? That’s the good future king you’re all talking about? He is already obsessed with the idea of becoming king, to the point that his own mother has to remind him that she’s actually alive and well and he would have to wait a good fucking while before his dreams come true. That’s actually so sick on his behalf. Not to mention that he very likely married Sara Snow, betraying his fiancée, in order to gain the Starks’ help, which is very dishonourable. At least Lucerys told Borros he’s betrothed and refused to marry one of his daughters to get his support, I’ll give him that.

Baela is a deranged evil girl who was ready to throw hands on sight, too. And have we forgotten that she becomes a drunkard and whoremonger who spends her money gambling in the rat pits, the places where children fight one another in King’s Landing, once she grows up, or is it wrong only when Aegon II does it?

Rhaena is an aggressive coward who seems more preoccupied with the acquisition of a dragon than her mother’s death. She didn’t have the guts to go and claim Vhagar, but she feels powerful enough to confront Aemond when she has three people backing her up.

Finally, even without taking all of their problematic traits into account, these people are so severely uninteresting and unimpressive. Lucerys does not convince Borros to side with his mother and drops dead like a fly. Joffrey gets shrugged off by Syrax and plummets to his demise. Jacaerys is immediately killed during his embarrassing attempt to fight the Triarchy, not to mention that he was the reason his youngest half siblings were captured and nearly killed because he had the brilliant idea of sending them away. Baela loses the only dragon fight she was ever part of to Aegon II and Sunfyre who were very injured by a previous fight already! And Rhaena is just… there. Doing nothing. Never avenging her husband’s death, eventually marrying a Hightower. Yikes.

Are there much more ill behaved children in ASOIAF? Yeah, for sure, but we actually acknowledge that children like Aegon II and Joffrey Baratheon are pieces of shit. But if we could like, stop glorifying these four mediocre and borderline malicious kids solely because some of you feel the need to ride the dicks of everyone who is part of Rhaenyra’s crew, that would be great. They might be children, but they’re children with shady, putting it mildly, personalities, wielding new-clear weapons of mass destruction who actively participated in a war, especially Jacaerys and Baela. They sure were victims of the world they were raised in, but they were aggressors as well. And like, this is the ASOIAF universe, nearly all of our protagonists are children. We can’t constantly apply modern day morals and coddle them forever because “OMG, they are just babies!”, unless we are ready to apply the same logic on the Targtowers, who were basically the same age as Rhaenyra and Daemon’s children.

[mactiir]

sword misconceptions pt 1: longsword

Post series: shortsword | rapier | buckler | dagger | spear

so as I'm getting back into fantasy lit as a historical fencer, there are a lot of things I am noticing cropping up in swordfights that are inaccurate or flat out wrong. So i wanted to write a post for my fellow writers putting down a few things I've learned in 2.5 years of swinging the actual weapons around!

Disclaimer: i am not an expert. Additionally, many of the historical terms for weapons were not standardized (there was no "one" longsword/rapier/shortsword etc when we're talking about a weapon that existed for hundreds of years across an entire continent) so what I'm discussing under the cut is specific to the late medieval/early Renaissance European two-handed weapon with a simple hilt/crossguard and with a blade length around 3 feet -- what D&D calls the longsword, or in older editions the bastard sword (although if we want to get picky about it, bastard swords should have shorter handles than longswords -- but I wrote this post as a writing reference so names are beside the point. you can call the swords whatever you want in your story, anyway).

Misconception 1: longswords are heavy.

Older editions of D&D had these weapons at 6 pounds, which is about 2x too heavy. 5e has them at 3 pounds, which is exactly right. Your average longsword is between 2 and 4 pounds, and a well-made one will be balanced such that you barely feel it. Pound for pound, they are heavier than almost all one handed weapons (except some rapiers but we'll talk about that later), but between their balance and the fact you wield them in both hands, their weight is likely not going to be a prohibiting factor for most characters. Everyone who can pick up a wooden baseball bat can pick a longsword up and swing it. A weak or out of shape character will struggle for wielding it for lengths of time, though.

Misconception 2: longswords are slow.

You're 1) thinking of a zweihander and 2)zweihanders aren't slow, either, but we'll get to that later. Longswords, wielded properly in both hands, are lightning fast, with a skilled fencer that's opened their opponent's defense often able to land 2-4 hits before a director even registers the first hit and calls "halt". And there are two components to speed: actual velocity, and distance. Longswords are -- well, long. Even if you can't swing it as fast as a little knife, the fact that it's three feet long means you're closing to target much faster compared with a shorter weapon, because you don't have to do as much footwork to get into, or out of, striking range.

Misconception 3: you can wield a longsword in one or both hands.

I mean, you could. But a one-handed wield robs a longsword of a lot of its dexterity, grace, precision, and yes -- power. You want two hands on this thing. Your dominant hand goes closer to the crossguard and it's what generates your power and edge alignment. Your offhand on or near the pommel is where your dexterity and fine steering is. Switching or removing either of these hands feels weird and you are also way more likely to get disarmed just by trying to parry with one hand.

Misconception 4: swordfights are about dodging.

You have two realistic options when someone is swinging a longsword at you: parry or step out of range. You do not duck. You do not jump. You do not sway, roll, or do backbends. All of these things will 1) rob you of necessary structure to riposte, 2) leave you wide open for a renewed attack or remise, and 3) leave your most important tool for not getting hit -- your SWORD -- too far off target to help you. Yes, all of these things look super cool and may fit depending on your style and setting. But if you're going for realism, YOU PARRY.

Misconception 5: you can be fast or strong but not both.

Ok, this is more a pet peeve about martial arts in general but: you cannot be fast without a certain base amount of muscle. You CANNOT. Small people with no muscle are slow. They have to take huge, looping cuts to compensate for their lack of muscle and leave huge openings while they do it. Small people who do well at the sport are often very quick because they have to train the heck out of footwork to outwork bigger opponents, but that only comes with TRAINING. It's not a "small people are automatically dex builds" thing. And while big muscly guys are often slower, they also 1) have less distance to move to close to target, which makes them "faster" even if they are moving a tad slower and 2) they're also often fast as balls, so you can judge virtually nothing about an opponent based on their body type except for their reach. A good, big longsword fencer will often have really fast handwork because most don't do well in longsword fencing without speed.

Let me know if there are any lingering questions I missed! I may think of more later, but I hope this was helpful for now :)

[xayneimagines]

Mihawk “Fucking and Fighting are a bit different.”

Fandom: One Piece 

Pairing: Mihawk x MC(She/her)

Genre: smut

Content tags: “little girl/good girl/rabbit” pet name. Discussion of a scene that I wanted to include cause idk I like it. Mihawk so nice so he can be mean later. AFAB and pussy eating. Part 1?!

   MC was trying to catch her breath as she stared at the swordsman before her. She had challenged him to a duel and, while he declined, she had still persisted. Each slash of her blade was deflected, and that damn bastard Mihawk wasn’t even sweating.

   “Do you plan to do this all day? I could cut you down, you know.” On the surface he was unamused with her persistence, but truly he was impressed with how hard she was pushing herself. The sweat glistening off of her skin and the heaving of her chest was quite a sight for the war lord. 

   “Shut up! I’ll kill you!” At this point MC was no longer thinking. Frustration was approaching a boiling point and as she ran along the cobblestone corridor for another attack she tried to plunge the sword into him. 

   He was gone. In her eyes, it looked like he had just vanished, but the sudden gruff voice in her ear showed otherwise.

   “Your form is sloppy and your speed is lacking. Try a wider stance.” 

   Before MC could turn around, she felt him kick slightly at one of her legs, spreading them further. With her new found position she was able to swing the sword a little harder, but he easily blocked it  with the small knife he carried. 

   “Your eyes need to be on your target before you point your blade.” Another critique before he pushed her back, causing her to fumble. 

   She let out a low growl and went for him again. 

   “Stop fucking with me!”

   Mihawk pinned her body between him and the wall, his rough calloused hands grabbing hold of her wrist and pinning them above her. She had barely registered the movement until the sword she was wielding fell from her hand and caused a loud clang to ring out through the stone halls. The sound was, however, drowned out by her heartbeat.

   As her eyes peered into his she almost choked on her own breath. His eyes didn’t have their usual cold and calculating glint to them. Instead there was a look that MC had never seen. A dark, lustful gaze that should not have been sending shivers up her spine and causing her to clench her thighs.

   “Fighting is a bit different than fucking, little girl.”

MC couldn’t respond. She wanted to have some witty comeback or maybe even just tell him to back off, but all her words seemed to fail. Instead what fell out was-

   “Uh…um…uh…” 

   He raised an eyebrow as she seemed to struggle with her words, taking it as a confirmation that she didn’t mind feeling his body pressed tightly against hers. He shifted his grip on her wrists so that he could hold them tightly with one hand, his other sliding down her arm, her sides, landing on her hip.

   “Would you like me to show you?” His own arousal had his voice deepening, the gruff growls attached to each word almost surprising himself. It was rare for him to feel this way, wanting to ravish and spoil. When they had first met he had found her annoying yet cute. And each time she found him afterwards, and picked a fight, annoyance quickly turned into a desire to undo her. He wanted to have her panting and sweating underneath him, begging him to fuck her untill she forgot this damn one sided rivalry.

   “N…no.” She had meant that to sound a little more…well…sure?

   His lip turned up slightly, a smirk on his face as he glanced over hers slowly before letting his eyes linger further down her body. He could see the goosebumps forming as he mapped her out. His free hand then moved from her sides up to her neck, fingers gripping only enough for her to feel the pressure.

   She shivered.

   “Are you sure about that? A swordsman must be sure of everything they decide.” 

   Who knew how long they stood there in silence. All MC could register was how close he was, each touch, each lustful glance. Time no longer mattered.

   “I’ll ask again. Would you like me to fuck you?”

   “Yes.”

~~~~~~~~

   The only reason he didn’t take her on the cold floor right then and there was because he wanted to make sure their time together would span the entire night. And, while he did have a tremendous amount of self restraint, his selfishness drove him to make sure that any marks left on her would be caused by him, and not a side effect of location.

   His arms circled her rather fast after she gave her consent, tossing her onto his shoulder and beginning the walk to his room. One arm held her in place by being draped over her back while the other had his hand nestled against her right thigh, resting right under the curve of her ass. Her squeal at being picked up so quickly rang between his ears like a sweet melody he couldn’t wait to listen to again. 

   To others he may have looked calm and collected as he trudged through the hallways to find his room, but the growing discomfort in his pants made him thankful for his long strides. He had thought about fucking her on more than one occasion, many nights plagued by images of her panting during a fight and sweat dripping from her brow. The only reason he hadn’t acted ‘till now was a matter of convenience. He doubted she would have agreed during the other fights, them having been in much more open and public places. He had no qualms over being an exhibitionist, but he wouldn’t risk discomfort on her part. 

   Meanwhile, MC could hardly think as the warlord seemed to glide through the halls. The feeling of his fingers pushing into the meat of her thigh, and resting so dangerously close to her cunt already had her wet. It was almost embarrassing how she had squeaked out that earlier ‘yes’, but at least she was confident in his desire for her, considering his brisk pace.

  Hearing the door slam open as they entered his bedroom also provided extra proof. 

  She gasped as he tossed her onto the edge of the bed, the mattress bouncing her a few times before her feet settled on the floor and she could sit up. Mihawk had turned as soon as he dropped her to shut the door, the sound of a click ensuring her he was locking it.

   “Limits?” His voice reverberated in his throat with a gruff tone that had her pressing her thighs together in anticipation for what was to come. She almost hasn’t even registered the questions proper context, prepared to spit back that she could take anything in a fight. Thankfully, and with an embarrassed look, she caught herself.

   “Oh…uh…I don’t know…I guess…no like…gross stuff?” She hadn’t done this before. What little experience she had didn’t come with any discussion of limits, nor had the experience even come close to being with a man like him. He was powerful, imposing, and as his hungry eyes locked onto hers she had to catch her breath.

   Was that look really for her?

   Mihawk chuckled as he walked over to her, unclasping his belt and removing his hat before he had even reached her. His hands sunk down on the mattress beside her legs, face now inches from hers as his eyes seemed to study her.

   He couldn’t wait to break her. His mouth was almost dry from the thought, though she wouldn’t know that. Not with the confidence he radiated.

   “Gross stuff?” He repeated with a raised eyebrow and a playful smirk, one she usually only saw when he was taunting her in battle. Normally it would have had rage pumping through her, but this time all it did was make her feel shy.

   “Yeah like… ya know…” Her eyes drifted away from him as she found the eye contact too intense.

   “You’ve never negotiated before, have you?” 

   “….That obvious?” She said with an embarrassed groan, hoping this wasn’t gonna be the end of this interaction. What if he didn’t care to spend that kind of time on figuring things out with her?

    She felt like she could crumble under his gaze until a familiar hand was on her chin, lightly moving her face so that he could peer into her gorgeous eyes once again.

   “It’s quite alright. While I don’t go easy on you for our fights. I’ll be sure to take proper care of you, love. I don’t mind taking my time with you.” His voice was low, almost a whisper, and the tone of it sent shivers along her body. 

   She gulped a little, and nodded.

   “I’m afraid I’ll need vocal confirmation. I need you to be able to tell me exactly how I’m making you feel for this to work.”

   “I….okay…”

   “See if the name sir feels good on your tongue.” He suggested, standing up straight now and peering down at her. She was so beautiful, with her slightly parted lips and nervous glances. Fuck, he couldn’t wait to feel her.

   “Yes…sir…” She tested it, trying to not let the embarrassment get to her. It felt…good. Normally authority over her was something that made her skin crawl, but calling him ‘sir’ had her quivering. 

   “Did that feel good? Whatever happens or is said in this room, you’re in control of. I’ll only push if you request it and, of course, if it’s one of my limits I won’t indulge.” 

   She stared up at him with those nervous, intoxicating eyes. His breath nearly caught in his throat.

   “Okay…it uh…it felt good…” MC stuttered out nervously, her hands down in her lap as she tried to keep them occupied with each other. 

   “Felt good…what?” He tested it, wanting to clarify that she did actually enjoy calling him sir. His thumb pulled slightly at her lower lip, enticing her to speak.

   “It felt good…sir.” The words came out with a shudder as she felt the rough pad of his thumb glide over her lip. She wanted to stick her tongue out and lick at it, but kept herself from doing so. Shame was such an annoying wall to try and tear down.

    “Good girl. We’ll need safe words. And if I check in on you, I expect an answer or everything will stop.” To her shock, he now knelt down in front of her, taking one of her feet and placing it on his pants leg. Slowly he undid the shoe, his eyes focusing on her legs in order to give her a break from eye contact.

   “Safe words? Like what?” 

   He rewarded her question with a soft kiss to her clothed knee.

   “Well, some people use colors. Red means stop, yellow means slow down, and green means go. It has to be words you wouldn’t normally say in a scene and they need to be easy to remember.” He gave her a brief breakdown of the general idea.

   “Scene?”

   “A scene is what you call the actual act. It’s in reference to role playing, but it also helps in mentally dividing up sexual play from the rest of life. For instance, during a scene I could be mean if you wished for it, but once the scene ends I would cater to you and take care of you as you come down, just like you would be for me.” He slid the shoe off finally before his hands began to massage at her feet, hoping to help her relax. 

   “How…how do I help take care of you after?” 

   Her question had a smile on his face as he looked back up at her. “Different people need different things. I like…being of service. And while I’m well aware of my abilities, it can be nice to hear from time to time.”

   She felt the heat all the way to her ears now as she stared down at him. He seemed beautiful, which was odd considering how she had just tried to skewer him. Granted, it wasn’t as though she had been unaware of his beauty this entire time…she just…had been more focused on other things.

   “Okay…I…I think I can do that. And umm…how would you take care of me after?” Mc didn’t want to mess this up. She didn’t know how she could fuck it up, but if there was a way to do it she was confident she’d find it and everything would be ruined.

   “Well, since it’ll be your first time in this way, I’ll probably annoy you by pestering you into telling me what you want. I could give you a bath after, massage whatever part of you I left sore. And, if you just need to be held, I can oblige that. Since I’m the more experienced one, I’m leaving the reins in your hands and simply guiding you.” He then slowly moved to take her sock off, continuing the massage. As his thumb pressed into the middle of her foot and worked out the tense muscle, she found herself wincing from a slight discomfort. 

   Damn, she should get a massage more often.

   “So…we do the colors then…and if I want you to stop I’ll say red…” She repeated the rules and watched him nod as he now placed her foot down and moved onto the next, taking the same careful time to remove the shoe.

   “Correct. And I'll be asking you to tell me your color throughout the scene.” He commented as he began to massage her other foot, avoiding eye contact for her sake. 

   She watched as his fingers seemed to dig into the tender muscles and found it amusing that hands that brought her so much frustration in the past were currently relaxing her. If she didn’t know him well enough, she’d wonder if this was all a trick.

   But Mihawk doesn't do things unless he wants to do them.

   “Okay then…should…we go over anything else?” Mc asked, hands now behind her as she leaned back, watching him work away.

   “Well, typically we would talk about what we want. Since you don’t seem to know, how about we discuss what you’d like to try.” His eyes cut up at her again, gaze alone stating she would have to be comfortable enough to discuss it if they were to try anything out of normal intimacy.

   “I…don’t even know what I’d like to try honestly…”

   “What do you think about when you touch yourself at night?”

~~~~~

  In her thoughts there was a weird blur between telling him what she wanted and now. She knew they talked about it, her nerves still turning her stomach, but her mind was only focused on the hot open mouthed kisses they were sharing. Clothes still clung tightly to their bodies as he had pushed her gently to the bed, mumbling something about ensuring she would enjoy every moment of this. 

   For some reason, despite the long conversation they had, she didn’t expect him to kiss her. In her mind she wasn’t sure if he’d see her as worthy of such an affection, but sure enough his warm lips met her own and all of her coherent thoughts left the building.

   The weight of him on top of her was all encompassing and her skin seemed to burn and tingle with each movement he made. A knee sat firmly against her clothed crotch while he held himself up by one of his forearms. A ghost of a touch down her side had her shivering and she wondered if it was a sign of weakness in herself, or a strength in him. 

   Everything about the man was burning and confident. The way his mouth moved against hers as their tongues intertwined was taking her breath away. Even more so when one of his cool hands slid up her shirt slowly, palming gently at her breast. The skilled and calloused fingers massaged her tit gently and she could no longer keep her mouth on his.

  She had to pull away with a slight gasp, not sure how he got such a reaction from just touching her like this. Heat surrounded her outside of his cool touch and when she opened her blurry eyes to look at him, more heat rushed through her.

   He seemed so…hungry.

   His mouth quickly moved to her neck, needing to have his lips against her someway or another. He didn’t know if she knew of her power. That right now he would kneel and worship the ground she walked on for but a taste of her, and that through his feverish open kisses he hoped to consume whatever he could. All the scenes that had been planned and discussed ahead of time would allow for more carnal desires later, though he decided this first round would be…softer. While he wanted to ravish her, he also wanted to ensure she would feel safe and comfortable in their arrangement. A goddess such as this needed to be pulled apart slowly at first. Broken until she had no choice but to understand just what her place was. His equal, above him? He hoped to bring her to the realization that no matter the role they chose he would serve her.  

   Fuck, she was already whimpering and he hadn’t even done anything. He wondered if he could get her so wet that she would soak through his pants, teasing the idea of it by rubbing his knee gently against her. 

   Between his thumb and index finger he rolled her nipple gently, only pinching at it enough to add pressure and not cause pain. Her mewls edge him on to continue as her arms wrapped around his head. He was glad she was already getting confident enough to touch him. He smirked against her skin as he gave her a much firmer pinch that caused her body to arch from the bed, a little yelp coming out of her cute mouth.

   “Color?” If he was a self conscious man he would feel nervous about the fact he was already growling his words out like an animal. Luckily, the squirming of her pressing down on his leg assured him she loved it. 

   “We just started!”

   Another rough pinch to remind her of the rules had her gasping.

    “Green!!! Fuck, green!” She whined, causing him to chuckle. He lifted himself to lock his eyes with hers again. 

   “Next time you fail to answer, I stop. Understood?” He let his smirk fall before addressing her, not wanting her to think he was joking.

   “Y..yes.”

   “Yes, what?” A stern voice responded and he could have sworn her nipples hardened against the pad of his thumb. Seemed she really enjoyed the power play.

   “Yes, sir. Won’t happen again. Just…please…touch me more…sir.” Mc’s eyes held a shyness that he wanted to replace with bliss. 

   “I’ll do what I want to you and if it’s something you really desire, you’ll beg better than that.” As if to punctuate his words, he rolled his knee against her again. The friction shot electricity through her, clit feeling the familiar buzz of desire that she thought only a vibrator could achieve.

   “Ye…yes sir.” 

   He groaned at that, eyes relaxing before his head ducked down to now kiss at the middle of her chest, thankful she wasn’t wearing some sort of turtle neck or plain shirt. The taste of her salty skin was something he felt he wouldn’t get enough of. 

   His hand that was under her shirt removed itself from her breast, a small whimper escaping as she watched his hand now play with the top of the offending cloth. He pulled the neckline down slowly to the side until one of her tits could spring free. Then his mouth quickly moved from the middle of her chest to her tit, the wet heat causing her to arch once again.

   Mc couldn’t believe she was this receptive to such actions. Maybe it was just the built up anticipation or the promise of what was to come, but fuck was she starting to drip with desire. His mouth around her nipple while he sucked playfully on her boob, tongue flicking and rolling around the bud as his piercing eyes were glancing up to watch her reactions. 

   Mihawk made a note to really test how sensitive the buds could be later. For now he was content sucking and licking at it like an animal, his other hand now returning to its original position under her shirt to pinch and grope. He could feel his cock already straining against the front of his pants and pressing against her leg.

   He was huge…and all Mc could think of was how he would be buried inside her soon enough. 

   With an exaggerated pop he let the tit fall from his mouth before sitting up, grabbing the bottom of her shirt and making her sit up just enough to peel it off. 

   Her back flopped back down against the bed, one arm going to cover her chest while the other hand covered her embarrassed face. He ‘tsked’ before grabbing both wrists, pinning them to the side despite her resistance.

   “And if you try to keep me from taking in this work of art that is your body, I’ll tie your hands to your ankles and use your cunt as my cocksleeve.”

   Was that a threat? It sounded more like a good time if she was being honest, but she knew the real threat was not actually fucking her and instead just letting himself sit deep inside without moving. That sounded…infuriating.

   “S..sorry sir! Yes, sir!” She whimpered as she looked up at him with those same bashful eyes as earlier, lower lip being worked between her teeth.

   “Color?”

   “Still green.”

   Without another word he let go of her wrist to sit up, eyes taking in the full sight of her. He gently ran a hand down her chest, fingers grazing across her nipple before ending at her hips as his eyes drug back to her face. 

   “Beautiful. I can’t wait to see you broken.”

    Mc thought that was amusing since she already felt a little mentally broken, face burning and a small pant on her lips as she looked up at him. Evidently he enjoyed the sight thoroughly, tongue peeking out to lick at his lower lip while a hand adjusted himself in his pants to try and get a little more comfortable. 

   Her eyes followed his hands and she felt thirsty, wanting to see what was in store for her.

   “You’ll have to beg for that. I plan on making you cum in other ways first.” 

   At his words his head ducked back down to start trailing kisses down her stomach, making sure every inch would be covered while his hands began to undo her pants. She wasn’t sure how he got them off so nimbly without moving, but soon enough cool air was around her legs and his hot mouth was kissing at her thigh. 

   His eyes fell on her panties and she realized just how much her pussy might have been soaking them. Embarrassed at his gaze she almost tried to close her legs or shift away, but one of his arms snaked under her thigh and tossed it over his shoulder while he settled between her legs. 

   His hungry eyes were now back on hers.

   “Color?” 

   “Green.” There was no hesitation this time, having learned her lesson from earlier. And, while she was embarrassed, she craved him.

   He smirked and rested his cheek against her leg, his facial hair tickling the skin lightly. 

   “Good girl. Maybe you can be taught…” 

   She would have responded with a snarky comment if his mouth wasn’t suddenly over her cunt, a long lick through the fabric causing her to yelp and shiver. On instinct her fingers dived into his hair, but the low groan that came from the man showed it didn’t bother him. His yellow eyes peered up at her from between her thighs that rested on his shoulders and she was torn between making eye contact and throwing her head back as his tongue pressed firmly against her clit before wiggling against it.

   Maybe it was how drawn out everything seemed to be or the fact she hadn’t gotten any in a while, but each touch from him was setting her on fire and he knew it. Long laps through her panties had her shifting down, wanting to feel more pressure against her cunt then what he was giving. He enjoyed the feeling of her plush thighs starting to shift and squeeze around his head, one hand moving just so he could grip the soft thigh while his eyes closed. Currently all he could taste was the damp fabric, but just the scent alone had his cock throbbing. 

   Slowly he then used his tongue to hook under the side of her panties, shifting them slightly just so he could get a small taste. The wetness on her lips touched his tongue and he realized just how desperate he was starting to become. It took all of his restraint to not rip the undies off for being in his way.

   His other hand snaked its way up to help pull the cloth to the side and he opened his eyes to see the prettiest glistening cunt he ever saw. The way the skin and hair shined with her juices under the faint light of the room felt like an invitation.

   “M…Mihawk. Stop staring.” Her voice snapped him from his thoughts. He hadn’t realized just how enraptured he was with her pussy. He smirked, glancing up at her to see a flushed panting face, one hand folded in front of her mouth while the other was still buried in his hair.

   MC felt so exposed to him that it was embarrassing. The air around them felt so heavy now that she struggled to breathe, chest heaving up and down.

   “Sorry there, little rabbit. I can’t help myself when it comes to works of art.” His words sent shivers up her spine, though she tried to act tough and pout. 

   “That’s so corny.” She commented, just wanting to feel a little more in control. The deep chuckle that reverberated through his chest showed he took no offense to her words.

   “Perhaps. But it’s true. I’ll have to thank you for this meal.” It was odd seeing him with this level of playfulness. During their fights she always assumed his tone was a serious one, but the more she thought back on it she realized just how much he was toying with her and others. 

   “Well, you’re letting it get cold!” Another quip with a pout had him smirking up at her. He’d let her get away with being a little demanding. It was cute to see her embarrassment trying to shift to confidence and he wanted to encourage her telling him what she wanted.

   So, without missing a beat, his head lowered again and he kept his eyes trained on her while his lips wrapped around the hooded clit, gently sucking and giving kitten licks to it. 

   She gasped and yelped, not expecting to feel that much attention directly on the bundle of nerves. A heel dug into his back while her body arched from the bed.

   “Fuck! Too much!” It was almost painful to feel his tongue push past the hood and directly tease her. His facial hair scraped against the rest of her cunt and thighs and it felt just so fucking good. 

   He backed off from the bundle then, tongue pulling away from inside the hood and moving to circle it before another thick, long swipe ran up her lips. He found the sticky juices to be delicious and couldn’t resist letting his tongue dive into her a few times. He kept his eyes trained on her as the hand gripping his black locks pulled and guided him closer to her cunt. His hand that kept her undies neatly out of the way moved so he could rub his thumb over her clit, circling it much like his tongue had been doing before he decided to eat up more of his meal. 

   She felt him groan into her cunt, but no longer could she have her eyes open to watch. The pleasure was building and it was building quickly. It felt too much. Overwhelming. Perfect. She couldn’t help the string of curses falling from her lips as his tongue continued to dive into her pussy, curling and searching for that sweet textured spot that would make her see stars. 

   When he felt part of it, he smirked, his mouth shifting back to her clit while his hand moved to plunge two fingers into her sweet cunt, fingers curling to add pressure to her g-spot so he could milk it for all it was worth. He sucked and licked at the bundle of nerves as her body started to thrash a little, though he noticed in all her panting and “waits” not once did she say red or yellow. 

   A chord snapped within her and a gush all but drenched him and the bed. Her body was shaking, eyes hazy, and chest heaving for air. Her eyes drifted to see him sitting in between her thighs again, looming over her while a tongue swiped at his lip to gather more of the cum and squirt that now decorated his face.

   “Good girl. Ready for more?”

[fromstormsend]

Will Gendry be Ned’s Son? (We know how)

⟪“If the day ever comes when Gendry would rather wield a sword than forge one, send him to me. He has the look of a warrior.”⟫ -AGOT Eddard VI

⟪ "Good," he said, smiling. "I will give Lyanna your love, Ned. Take care of my children for me.” The words twisted in Ned's belly like a knife. For a moment he was at a loss. He could not bring himself to lie. Then he remembered the bastards: little Barra at her mother's breast, Mya in the Vale, Gendry at his forge, and all the others. "I shall … guard your children as if they were my own," he said slowly. ⟫ -AGOT Eddard VII

⟪"I bet he's that traitor's bastard," Lommy said one night, in a hushed voice so Gendry would not hear. "The wolf lord, the one they nicked on Baelor's steps."⟫ -ACOK- Arya III

****

There is more hints about Arya marrying with a blacksmith but these are specifically about Gendry will being Ned’s son.

[bucknastysbabe]

✾ Happy Bday To A Sweet Lil Kit Named Liv ✾

Therefore I present to you:

♕ The Brother F**king Incest Spectacular ♕

For u bb @fairysluna

Rating: Explicit

Tags: TW: incest, non/con|||dub/con, degrading language, bastard hating, DAERON IS AGED UP!!!!Greens won AU, Jace’s sister reader, gang bang, so much Incest, cunnilingus, sloppy seconds, double penetration, oral sex, pnv!sex, erotic crying, humiliation, Daeron is actually scared but likes her so they run off and be happy duh, Aemond and Aegon are Insane, multiple orgasms, rough sex, m/m/m/f, Jace is broken, why is there kinda angst? Idk

A/N: I don’t tend to lean toward non-con but the brother fucking incest spectacular had been brewed so read the warnings!

“Little Lord Strong,” Aemond sneered from the lofty bed, looking down with a haughty look on his sharp features. Jace squirmed and hissed at the one-eyed prick. His dear sister was pinned between Aemond’s lean legs, face red and teary.

Daeron was quiet, a terrified look on his face as he watched the scene.

Aegon, ever the deviant, palmed himself through his breeches, other hand petting Jace’s poor sister’s hair. He was grinning wildly, violet eyes fervent with glee. He giggled as his younger brother prattled on. Aemond cocked his head towards his siblings and said, “Well. You know what they say about bastards. Lustful, devious sort. I bet she’ll open up like a Lyseni pillow girl.”

Jace barked, “Fuck you! All of you are the deviants! Defiling my maiden sister for what?”

Aegon snorted, “She’s a lovely vixen, we won and you didn’t. Therefore we get our war prizes. Wanted to see what your cunt of a mother was so infatuated by a house as shite as the Strongs.” Jace grimaced and squirmed under his bindings, chest aching at the mention of his true father. The one who had taught him to be a man. He didn’t feel much like one.

Aegon yanked back her hair and got a good look at doe brown eyes, watery with tears, lips swollen more-so than usual. She pled, “Please, please, I cannot help being o-of this nature. Have mercy my king, have mercy!” The giddiness of Aegon’s face morphed into anger.

He hissed in her face, spittle flying, “Did your lovely mother and the rogue cunt give my children mercy?”

She wailed in sorrow, apologizing for something she had nothing to do with. Aemond was wielding the Valyrian ceremonial knife, pointing it towards Jacaerys. He sniffed, “Yes, Lord Strong, was there mercy when your dead brother took my eye, slaughtered my kin, set the kingdom aflame for a seat that belonged to us trueborn?”

Jacaerys remained silent, fidgeting in his bonds, trying to find a way out. There was murder and kinslaying on both sides. The bastard thought he was justified for little Luke. Jace was angry and humiliated. Tears fell down his darkened cheeks. Daeron spoke up, a soft lilt to the youngest brother’s tone.

“You won’t get out of those. Learned the best knots down on the docks of Oldtown. Best if you just sat back and let it get on with. Customary,” he nervously looked to the elder blondes, “Customary right?”

Aegon popped up from his spewing of vitriol, laughing as he reached for more Arbor Red, “Yes, darling Daeron, customary to make sure any dragon blood gets more seed. We have to repopulate. Sorry you must get the leftover bitch as wife.”

Aemond shrugged, “She’s pretty. Had a Strong bitch in Harrenhal, witchy sort, but couldn’t trust a wench that played with magicks.” He began to take off his loose blouse, exposing pale scarred skin, lean and toned. Daeron was stockier, like Aegon but if the eldest didn’t overindulge. The king was a juxtaposition of tight burns and soft overfed flesh. Never a warrior, Jace knew that much.

Jace watched in agony as the boys divested their clothing. He sister wept and shook on the mattress, begging Daeron now. The youngest looked guilty, mouthing, “I’m sorry.” Aegon smacked the Prince from behind the head and chided, “This is your whore for tonight. Quit being the pansy.”

Daeron grumbled back, staring with flushed cheeks. Aemond pulled her ass up roughly, spreading tanned thighs, shapely from dragon riding. Jacaerys howled, “You accursed demon!” The one-eye hummed, “I’ve heard worse, Strong. Enjoy the show.”

Aegon was at full mast, eagerly stroking his thick cock, “As the king I get to fuck those pretty lips,” he smirked, “Aemond you can get her cunt. Daeron it’s either her ass or wait your turn. Feel her up a little, I don’t know.” Daeron’s lilac eyes bounced around the scene, pupils blowing at her gorgeous body, full breasts hanging below, obscene lips covered in drool.

“Go on Daeron, she’s drier than the Boneway,” Aemond frowned. Jace could hand the bastard that, he couldn’t bear to watch her be torn to shreds. Daeron’s body came closer to hers, a calloused hand tentatively rubbing her soft skin, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. She relaxed a smidgeon, nervous eyes peeking around. The brunette had pretty lashes.

The daring himself murmured, “I shan’t treat you like this my lady, we’ll go back to Old Town. J-just feel me and the sensations. Please. Please.”

She whimpered quietly at Daeron engaged her in a gentle kiss, his hand finally coming to knead and tweak her pretty tits. “This isn’t amateur hour, back off, acting like Florian and Jonquil.” Aeg snatched her jaw and ordered, “Open, bastard whore.” She did so, shaking as Aegon dropped his spit into her mouth, easing his thick cockhead into the warm opening.

“That’s better, fuck,” Aegon moaned, eyes lolled. Aemond waited patiently, while he grinned at Jace. He mused, “So easy, so pliable. That’s why your mother liked it. Wanted to control everything, the bitch.” Jace gritted back, “Your mother was a stone cold bitch and we all knew it!”

The Velaryon fumed with anger, eyes flickering to where Aegon was moaning with delight, Daeron caressing and kissing on her smooth skin. His cheeks reddened at where his thoughts were going. Merely a Targaryen instinct— inclination for the blood.

Daeron’s insistent kissing and licking had the princess biting off whines around Aegon’s cock. The king laughed, “Ah, there she is, little slut loves it after all.” Aemond played with her other entrance, feeling wetness begin to gather and dribble delightfully. He backed up and motioned towards the youngest.

“Actually, I want her wetter. Use your tongue Daeron.” Aegon giggled with glee at the idea, Jace groaned, and Daeron swallowed heavily.

He shuffled to her slit, pale eyes boggled at her most private part. His thumb slid through the moistened entrance, cock jumping in surprise. Daeron held up his thumb and suckled the essence off, eyelashes fluttering as he moaned.

“She taste s-sweet, hm?,” Aegon panted. He wouldn’t last long. Never did by all rumors and accounts. The slick noises of her mouth and Aegon’s lurid chattering was making Daeron grow impossibly hot under his skin. He grabbed handfuls of her pert ass and licked at her pretty petals, grinding into the bed.

“Seven hells— the mouth on this one!,” he giggled, “Lick at that bud Daeron, raa-right at the top, make her squeal and slick up.” The youngest did so, suckling on the hooded bud above her opening, inhaling her perfect natural scent. She squirmed and shook, crying out around Aegon. Daeron didn’t stop, intoxicated by his beautiful niece’s noises. She arched her back helplessly, whining.

Aegon gasped and pulled at her thick brown locks, shoving his cock deep into her throat— met with no resistance. He threw his short curls back, belly bouncing, lips agape. The king cried out, “Fuuuuck yess!” Jace saw his uncle’s balls draw tight and he emptied down her once pristine throat. He closed his eyes and whimpered, willing away the indecent thoughts. He could hear her coughing in the background.

Aegon, fuck dumb and lazy, pillowed himself back. He halfassedly gestured for Aemond to have her mouth. The lean man smirked as having her from this angle meant he could torture Jacaerys more. Daeron was busy exploring her, sticking fingers in and lapping excitedly.

“Slow down, you’ll blow before you get your cock in her cunny,” Aegon snorted.

Aemond easily got access, the Princess obediently opening her mouth, eyes far away and hazy. Cum was still wetting her chin, mixed with drool. Aemond wiped it away with the nearest cloth, finding a distaste to be so close to Aegon’s glob of spend. He tilted her head up so the taller Targaryen could ease his long cock down her throat.

“Stick your dick in already, she’s wetter than the Greenblood,” Aegon snapped, greedily gulping wine. He shouted, “Isn’t this just wonderful Jace! Maybe we’ll cut your cock off and make you a handmaiden to this lovely girl.” Jace whimpered, utterly broken and confused. He was so hard it hurt, yet everything disgusted him.

Daeron held his cock, lilac eyes focused on her hole, dipping the tip in, before getting shoved further by one of her frantic hands. Aemond laughed, “Mm! She likes you. We’ll all have to take a test filling her cunt up. Make sure the seed takes.”

The youngest brother’s vision grew blurry as he registered the delicious feeling surrounding his cock. It was better than anything he had tried on himself. She was warm, tight, and pulsing around Daeron’s member. He gripped her hips and fucked wildly, groaning and panting her name.

“Should have taken his virgin ass to the brothels in Old Town when we visited.”

“All the more fun, two little virgins, isn’t that right Lord Strong?,” Aemond jabbed in glee. Jace let out an agonized moan, his balls aching and full. His sister’s gorgeous cries and debauched frame was making him feel insane. Aegon’s nonsensical laugh broke through the haze, making Jace more ashamed…more aroused.

Daeron panted and laid kisses up her back, breathlessly praising, “Oh you feel so good, tell me what to do, please?” Aemond, snapping his hips into the Velaryon’s mouth jeered, “Listen to what the wretch had to say, touch her button.”

Aegon slurred, already stroking his cock again, “When she comes, s’like heaven, milking ya’ cock.”

Daeron reached around to settle between them, circling around her swollen nub, feeling her cunt pulse and hearing excited keening. He pinched and pulled harder, the cries turning into little whimpers as she drew tighter and tighter around him. Daeron felt his eyes crossing at the pressure, fucking harder in a last effort.

Aemond pinched a bouncing teat of hers and ordered, “Come now, Strong slut. Serve your superiors.” He pulled out and watched the scene, on his haunches. The brunette was wailing and crying Daeron’s name. “Oh Gods please, don’t stop, f-fa-feels s’good! What’s- oh my- happening?”

Jace never wished he could be freed more than now, eyes glued to her twitching body, plump lips shining in the dull light. His cock was leaking profusely, needing an outlet for his swollen sac. Daeron gasped as she gushed all over his cock, sniveling and sucking in breath. Tears leaked down her gorgeous face.

The youngest Targaryen just sat in a daze, her throbbing pussy hitting him with wave of wave of ecstasy, his cock unloading all he could have carried into her womb. He selfishly hoped his seed would take, so that his wife’s child was truly his. He kissed and rubbed on her until Aegon cast him aside, laughing, “My turn, lover boy.”

Daeron’s eyes flickered to Jace, whining softly with a red face. His cock had soaked the front of his small clothes, huge member swollen and needy. Gods, the depravity. He absently wondered if the girl was supposed to be Jace’s if it weren’t for the twins.

Aegon was a lazy fuck, making the girl get on top of him and ride and ride until her shaky legs gave out. The king smacked her ass roughly, barking, “You can do better than that with all that dragon riding. Lazy whore.” She whimpered and bounced harder, squeezing Aegon’s soft midsection tight. He moaned, “Soooo much better. Good little bitch.”

He filled her up next with a sloppy finish, leaving some on her belly and legs, proposing, “Since Jace is so needy, we should make him clean her up.” Aemond seemed to love that idea, eagerly fucking her into the soft bed, her legs thrown high up his long body.

He bit and sucked a collar of markings around her neck, snarling, “You belong to us now, no black, no-ngh, fucking greens, just the Targaryens.” She whimpered, “Yes, yes, I belong to you, the rightful family.” Aemond smacked her around some more, around the ass and thighs. He pumped with long strokes, powerful and measured.

Daeron was taking notes. Because she was heaving and clawing his shoulders, mewling when he’d plunge into her ruined cunt. Blood had already dried on the bed. Aegon crawled over and pointed her wet eyes to Jace.

“You want brother dearest to clean you up after? Lick your sore cunny up, coddle you? Or Daeron?”

She scrunched her face up, obviously distressed. Jace whined pathetically, “Sister, sister please, let me, let me?” He was humping the air now, utterly broken and debauched. Aemond smacked her cheek none-to-hard and smarted, “Your king asked you a question!”

She wailed out, “Both! Need both! Gods please! Mmmm!” Aemond’s one eye rolled up at her releasing yet again. She still had some in her, coating his long cock with the gorgeous essence. The long haired prince pumped her for the final time full of his cum, slapping her ass another time for good measure. She shivered and cried, Daeron already to the rescue.

Who knew such a powerful fighter had such a weak heart. Aegon laid back like a cat who got the cream, watching Jacaerys sob and shiver. He’d cum. The evidence was sticky and soaking his small clothes. The princess took one look and begged, “C-can he join? Lick me up like you said my liege?”

Aegon shrugged, “Aemond and I will watch for safety. Can’t believe Lord Strong came in his small clothes watching his sister get fucked by the enemies. I thought we were fucked up.”

“Like you’ll do shite you oaf,” Aemond muttered as he slit the ropes binding Jace. The brunette stumbled to his sister, squatting between her soaked cunt. It was still a bit stretched, puffy and oozing copious amounts of ‘dragonseed’. He began to cry in shame as he cleaned her up.

Daeron softly murmured, “I’ll take good care of her, you’ve been good. So good.” Jace blushed and kept licking, eating up his sister’s sighs of pleasure, Daeron’s long fingers in his dark hair. What a fucking mess this was.

Aegon and Aemond merely laughed like devilish imps. Sadists. “Oh she’ll take the seed alright, she better or we do this again,” he tapped his chin, “We can’t taint her bastardized blood further, so just licking cunny for you dear nephew.”

[siriuslyobsessedwithfiction]

My favorite quotes from Kaz Brekker in my fic, which I will most likely never publish because I'm too embarrassed. I just wanted to share these beause Kaz's personality is difficult to capture in a fic without making him ooc, so I'm sort of proud that these seem like exact things Kaz would say or do:

"The desperate men are the worst kind of men."

"The Dregs can go screw themselves, he muttered, I'll tell them if and when I feel like it."

"One thing I've learned in this life, he said, sighing. There was a small smile on his face, There are no such things as saints. Everyone's flawed."

"Being tense and being prepared are two different things. But you seem to be both, in all the wrong ways."

 (Sarcastically) "After this miraculous sun summoner is discovered, all your problems will surely be solved, and all of Ravka will live in harmony forever."

"If they can't pay me back, I'll take the money from their pockets myself."

"Inej is better off doing more useful tasks then trying to catch a shipment thief. If the thief even exists. His own employees might be stealing from him without him realizing."

"I got paid 240 kruge just for stumbling across those morons, and the night is still young."

"I suppose I have no argument with a midnight waffle run."

"At this point, I could just pretend to be another candidate for the Ravkan throne. A bastard, fathered by the King. I'd have more claim than Nikolai Lantsov."

"See, Nina, sweet? You let them kick mud on your shoes, they'll kick mud in your face next. That's why you shatter their kneecap the first time."

"Lost track of time? What's there to lose track of, Jes? Time only heads one way."

"The steadfast members of the Council of Tides who won't cooperate will be steadfastly replaced."

"The Kerch choose the God of trade and act surprised when he doesn't grant mercy. Benevolence has no place in commerce. Ghezen only hears your prayers when you promise profit."

"You can tell her you got jumped at the docks by a knife-wielding seagull for all I care."

[issa-pheonyx]

Since you did goth yan what if you did a twist on that and did goth reader ?? 😵‍💫

Could be paired with any character but im imagining re2 leon being both really attracted to but also really scared of the reader

𝗜 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗺𝗲𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗮 𝘆𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗲𝗺𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝗿𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗮 𝗴𝗼𝘁𝗵 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗼𝗿 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗜 𝗿𝗲𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗴𝗴𝗲𝗱, 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗶𝘁'𝘀 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱! 𝗜 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘁 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗴𝗼𝘁𝗵!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗽𝘂𝗽𝗽𝘆 𝗟𝗲𝗼𝗻. 𝗦𝗼, 𝗹𝗲𝘁'𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝗴𝗶𝗻~👀🖤

▌│█║▌║▌║ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ ║▌║▌║█│▌

-Okay, to start off with people (friends and his coworkers at the department) would find it both strange, yet curious based on witnessing you guys standing together. The rookie with a goth? Now way-oh you were not joking. How the hell was he able to even talk to someone so highly different?

-Now crushing on you may have been the way you were attractively intimidating from the looks seeing how he never met someone like yourself in his life. Of course, there are trolls who have talk shit on the stereotypes which you were not phased by it (as you should💅🏽) , however the rookie cop was not having it, defending you like a guarded puppy to you

-He sees you that you are really talented and protective of your creativity amongst the arts, having strengths of independence and respect for all aesthetics even for being called a 'weirdo' for being goth, etc. He would praise and worship you for having such a unique style and do not let anyone get to you, because those who are basic or just have no taste would usually copy off or project themselves onto you, because you happily and lovingly express yourself

-As more to discuss on the being scared of you part, yes, not going to lie he was shitting bricks when he made the first move. Lets say a scenario of you being involved in a scene saving someone's life who had a knife, but you were not afraid and had the courage to fight off the bastard and wield a pocket knife like it's nothing. He thought you were scary cause how did you get him pinned and second of all what the fuck was the knife doing against his neck you could just threw it aside until the cops came

-So, yes he is scared of you cause of the 'the more you fuck around, the more you're going to find out' energy you hold and having the biggest dick energy cause goddamn you is the shit and you can pull your own weight. Sure, he had stalked caught you intruding an abandoned cathedral, because it looked so pretty outside you just want to see inside so badly. This was a good excuse for him to talk to you more and more as you both walked around, you're taking pictures and videos here and there, and he sticks around you like a damn puppy smiling as you tell him more about your style cause he is genuinely curious

-You and him developed a genuine friendship since you were usually just known as the goth instead of you as a person with other individuals/groups. Leon really wanted to get to know you more and more, but the issue is there are people who will find ways to pick on you both. Leon as the rookie cop and you as the goth crush. People would laugh at the thought of him taking a liking of you cause again you guys are opposites

-Thankfully, you would shut them down with respect, maturity, and boldness in which they immediately have their tail between their legs. Leon would try to be light and taken jokingly on their statements (even when they're genuinely rude) which pisses you off, because hey Leon that wasn't a joke they are actually being assholes. So, I guess right then and there the platonic bond turned to a romantic one-developing feelings for you, because you not only express your love and creativity for your gothic aesthetic, but more as a human being who respects those who deserve it and calls out those who are undeserving of it

-You were also developing feelings for Leon too. In denial at first thinking it could be a dumb crush and you will get over with it. But, no it was real, because he sticks with you again like a damn pup you know the routine and defends you whenever someone disrespects or criticize you. He knows you. Everything about you and knows whatever bullshit they're saying is not true. You always had defend other people who you gave so much respect only to be betrayed, because you will be always the weirdo to them. Not as (Y/N)....

▌│█║▌║▌║ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ ║▌║▌║█│▌

𝗧𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴! 𝗜 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝘁. 𝗠𝘆 𝘂𝗽𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝗱𝗼 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗮 𝗳𝗮𝗶𝗿 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴. 𝗦𝗹𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹~🖤🫣

[lya-dustin]

The Cruel

a much darker sequel to Kinslayer, Kingslayer, King where the reader gets revenge on Rhaenyra and Daemon for killing her son, Jaehaerys. Sadly it results in more kinslaying

ignore the white hands, didn't notice there were hands until i uploaded the header just now

Aemond x Velaryon!Reader

cw: murder, technically necrophilia, madness and i guess violation of the guest right

There is a perverse delight this gives you.

All the wrongs you suffered avenged tenfold as the pile of bodies grows underneath your throne.

Alicent for refusing to see you as anything but a snake in her garden even when you were the naïve child wed to her idiot son, Otto and his council for orchestrating the war your maidenhead made thoroughly unnecessary, and all those loyal to them.

Lady Mysaria had been more than eager to cement your status as the first Queen Regnant. You wore Queen Visenya’s crown, wore Blackfyre on your hip even if you didn’t even care to learn to wield a sword and dressed in red as the blood you spilled.

“It is merely our nature.” You caress the skull of the boy you once loved as you prepare to wed a third time. “One should not expect anyone to take all that abuse, all that pain and humiliation and still think to find forgiveness from their victim. I loved you once, fucked you well and gave you my heart and look at how you repaid me, my love.”

And you prepare to marry your younger brother and kill your mother and those who refuse to let you kill Daemon to avenge your poor innocent baby boy once and for all.

Jace will have to die your sweet younger brothers too. Your rule cannot be solidified if a male heir exists to supplant you, and no one in this land deserved to crown more than you. Besides, he had taken your claim and made himself Prince of Dragonstone while ruling for mother after Luke’s death. He sealed his fate when he brazenly stole your place in the succession.

You braved a court of snakes, an indifferent husband whose lickspittles and own mother enabled him into thus never learning to measure his capacity for cruelty. You cannot ever remember a time where his mother was not furiously covering up everything he did, especially all those times she burned your letters to your mother where you spoke of what he did to you and your maids.

The first thing you did as Aegon’s widow was remove all those who refused to curb the worst of his habits, starting with his household and darling mother.

She had yet to leave when she was forced to see you light Aemond’s pyre as if you hadn’t been the one to kill him. You played the grieving widow so well you fooled everyone into believing you hadn’t been the one to hold his knife to his fair throat.

Lady Misery had really out done herself; she had given you every justifiable reason to kill everyone who ever hurt you or were a threat to your reign and have the smallfolk eat your lies out of your hand.

They remembered you as the loving princess who gave them what they needed, who opened schools and orphanages and made sure everyone had food to eat and a place to sleep in. You had cared so much for their well-being even after your marriage destroyed the girl you had been.

So, when Queen Alicent’s carriage was beset by robbers in her attempt to escape her fate, they saw it as divine punishment for her sins.

It had not been difficult. When you were six and ten, you convinced everyone Helaena had jumped off her own accord due to her barrenness, and they all believed you. Even those who knew little Jaehaerys was her husband’s bastard couldn’t believe you would kill your aunt and goodsister to ensure your affair was never discovered.

She was your first.

“You never forget your first.” you say with a sigh as you continue to speak to the skull with the sapphire eye he got to replace the one Lucerys took. “If only she hadn’t been your wife, poor Helaena would’ve lived. I had to protect our boy, he and I would have been killed if your bitch of a mother ever knew. But now our sweet baby boy is dead because of you and her and everyone who conspired against me."

No one ever apologizes for what they made of you, not even the dead boy whose skull you cherish like the last gift your father gave to you.

Only Lady Mysaria understands why you are this way, why you need to avenge yourself just as she needs to avenge the babe Daemon’s stunt killed in her womb. Viserys was killed by her spies, condemned to rot because he ordered her to be sent away to the land that enslaved her, and now Rhaenyra would pay for being the mouthpiece for her father.

Lady Misery would get her revenge just as you will tonight.

The two of you would make sure they do not survive the feast tonight. The first dose of the poison eaten in the salt and bread you offered, and the last dose would come in the wine you will not drink for you are with child.

It is another son; you feel it exactly as you did when you were six and ten three years ago. Not Jaehaerys, not Aegon or Aemon or Viserys. Maegor was too remembered, the others too used. Aerion after the Conqueror’s father or Laenor, after the only man who didn’t disappoint you.

Or Baelon for the babe Viserys butchered your grandmother for.

Yes, Baelon Aemmasbane.

He would rule after you, be the perfect monarch because you will stop at nothing to make it so. He would be everything you should have been before this court and your own fucking family made a monster out of you.

You will burn in the seventh hells for it all, for all the blood you spill to avenge yourself and your dead son.

A shame your brothers and stepsisters must die with them too, but they cannot be allowed to live either. Your sisters would seek revenge for their father and your brothers for your mother, this way was better. This way they would never know it was you who killed them and it was Mother’s and Daemon’s fault you had to kill them too.

“But is alright, the seventh hell has always been my prize since I first laid with you.” You kiss the dead boy’s mouth as if it were skin and not bone and teeth. “Perhaps in our next life we can have the happy ending I deserved.”

[cyber-night]

BRANDING IL DOTTORE

This took so long because Fuck. But enjoy!

Anyways content warnings: Sub Il Dottore x Dom Reader, no beta we die like Niwa, Gore (I think its mild but tbh I'm not sure), Body writing, blood kink, knife play, unhealthy relationship, degradation, masochist Il dottore, Ooc Il Dottore, let me know if I missed something.

It was something he said off-handedly while you fucked him over his desk last week. It had gone something like "Please I need it. Want to be yours want you to claim me, mark me, brand me." And the idea hadn't left your mind since he sobbed it out in the heat of the moment. Presently the reason it was at the forefront of your mind was because he was carving open some poor bastard to make as he had said "Improvements." Your eyes were watching over the edge of your book looking at your lover's gloved hands expertly wielding his scalpel to cut the man apart.

You couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have Dottore beneath you as you marked him permanently with one of his own knives. How pretty your name would look etched into his skin. If you could make him cum just from that. "Your staring," He said without looking up from his work. You hummed in response as you looked up at his face. It was hidden behind a mask but you still loved to look at him despite it. "Something on your mind my Nightshade?" He asked as he looked up at you. Setting your book down and standing up to get closer to him you say "Just thinking about something you said a few nights ago that's all." You were now close enough to see inside the man's chest cavity. Dottore had removed several of his organs though, you noticed he was still awake and alive, though unable to move anything but his eyes. Dottore seemed to be replacing bits of him with mechanical parts. "Oh? Care to refresh my memory? I've said a lot of things."

His smile was, to some, unnerving to you however it was teasing. "You asked me to mark you as mine. Carve my name into your skin I believe." You say as you look up from the mess of a body that lay between you two. He tilts his head "and? Did that particular request peak your interest?" You look back down at the scalpel in his hand "What can I say it stuck with me." You walk around the autopsy table and wrapped your arms around him "Where would you put it?" He said as he got back to cutting parts of the man in front of you away. "Where would you let me put it?" He paused again before answering "below the neck" he said as he held the scalpel below the man's neck "and above the mid-thigh." He trailed the scalpel down to indicate his range. "So what your saying is I could give you a tramp stamp?" He looks at you and though he's wearing a mask you can tell he's glaring at you "that's disgraceful." With a smile, you respond, "I know and that fact is why it's a contender for where I'd put it." He sighs and turns back to the body before him "Let me finish my work Nightshade."

You pull away with a laugh not missing the way he followed your touch and headed back to where you had been to let him finish his work while you read. It was almost an hour later that he had finished whatever he was doing and handed the body off to one of his segments. The both of you walked in comfortable silence to your shared room though you couldn't see his eyes you could tell he was watching you. As soon as you both got there he took off to the bathroom to quickly wash the blood off of himself and change into clean clothes. You made tea for the both of you and sat on the sofa to read some more of your book while you waited.

He came out of the bathroom not fifteen minutes later his hair damp and free of blood. You'd never understand how he always managed to get blood in his hair. His gorgeous red eyes scanned the room till they settled on you. He sat down across from you on the sofa and took a sip of his tea. "So you've had some time to think it over. Any ideas?" He asks as he sets his cup down and looks at you expectantly "oh? Eager are we?" His eyes narrowed at you "and if I am?" You turn to face him fully and he follows suit. "Well, I have a few, for instance, your ass would be pretty. I'd get to see it every time I fuck you but then you wouldn't see it and I want you to see it I want you to wake up and see my name permanently branded into your skin." You paused to take a sip of your tea thinking. "And that's the problem I kept running into. Your thigh and above your hip have similar issues in my mind" you say conversationally as if you weren't talking about scaring your name into the doctor's flesh. "So how about" you reached out to rest your hand over his heart "Here." You could feel his heart start to beat faster and his breath hitch. "You like that idea don't you?"

His eyes were clouded with lust and excitement. He looked over towards the bedroom before getting up saying "I think I have a scalpel in the bedside drawer." Laughing at his eagerness you follow making a stop in the bathroom to grab some rubbing alcohol. You get to the bedroom just in time to see him victoriously pull a scalpel out of the bedside table drawer. "Are you sure you want to do this My horror?" He looked at you for a moment "I'm sure. If you leave I can always just erase it. Though your not allowed to anyways." He handed you the scalpel and kissed you. You threw the alcohol onto the bed so you had your hand free to start unbuttoning his shirt "And neither are you. Your mine." You said as you pulled away trailing the knife down his cheek. He groaned and tossed his shirt to the side and kissed you again before climbing into the bed and laying on his back.

He looked beautiful, your darling, all laid out for you. After taking in the view for a moment you climbed up onto the bed and straddled his lower torso and fumbled behind around for the alcohol. You had asked him one final time if he was sure he wanted this "if you don't get on with it I might change my mind." He growled out. Clicking your tongue you slipped the scalpel under his chin and used it to force him to look at you "Beg for it" You loved the look in his eyes knowing he wanted this just as much as you did. Being able to take his bratty attitude and force him into nothing but your obedient fucktoy. "Please carve your name into my skin so no one else can fuck me, so everyone knows I'm your whore." You smiled and opened the bottle of rubbing alcohol and poured a generous amount over his entire chest and the scalpel watching him writhe at the cold of it before shutting the bottle and letting it fall to the floor. "Do I have to tie you down for this like one of your patients, Nightmare?" He shook his head not trusting his voice to work. "Good, I'm going to start now. Try not to move." He nodded. "Oh and Dottore? Don't cum." His eyes clouded even more as he nodded.

You started by lightly tracing your name out a few times causing his skin to raise slightly so you could get it perfect. Once you were satisfied you started to actually put pressure onto the scalpel. At the first true cut, Dottore let out a content sigh. You smiled and continued. You went slow savouring the way the blood dripped from your work staining the sheets beneath. Giving in to temptation and licking up a streak of blood earned you a sharp breath from your work in progress. You could feel him tense up at every line and curve. Once you had a superficial etching you started over again. Deepening your lines to make them last for as long as he lived and even if they didn't? If they ever started to fade? You'd go over them again and again. However many times you needed to make it stick.

Eventually, he seemed to be basking in the pain freely moaning when you cut a little deeper. A small part of you wanted to go until you hit bone just to know what kind of sounds he'd make as you scraped the scalpel over his bones but you didn't truly have the energy for that and it would require something more akin to a lab setting. . . An idea for another day. You did however keep going till you knew you were deep in the dermis stopping when you finally grazed muscle. You had been so focused on your work you had almost stopped paying attention to Dottore he was drooling his eyes rolled back in bliss. Your perfect slutty masochist. You tapped his cheek with the bloody scalpel to bring him back to the present. As much as you didn't mind the idea of him being your brain-dead fuck doll you wanted him to be somewhat there mentally. When you saw his eyes focus. "It's done pet. Now, how about I help you with this?" You said as you pushed your ass back which as predicted grinded over his rock-hard cock. He moaned at the friction on his neglected dick forcing out a "please."

You pushed yourself back so you were now sat in between his legs the scalpel discarded to the side of the bed. You pulled his pants and underwear off in one movement. You tossed the last of his clothes off the bed. His cock already pouring pre-cum. You once more reached into the bedside table looking for lube. You noticed as you sat back lube in hand that Dottore seemed if you didn't know any better you'd say embarrassed. "Are you alright Darling? Do you want to stop?" He looked away "No. I-" It took you a moment to process what you were looking at and then another to mentally get your shit together. Dottore was still saying words but they didn't matter. A plug. More specifically a black plug with a red gem at the base that matched his eyes perfectly. "How long has it been in?" He was looking anywhere but at you.

You grabbed it and started twisting it and pulling on it. He let out something more akin to the sound his subjects make when he slits their throat "Dottore how long?" You asked getting impatient. Upon realizing that he had yet to answer you he came back to his senses and you finally got an answer from your whore of a boyfriend. "Put it in when I found out you'd be sitting in on the surgery." In a slightly quieter voice, "I like the way you fuck me after I've worked on a subject." You continued to fidget with the plug "oh? And what do I do differently?" You knew what he mean you always fucked him harder more animalistic than loving. There was just something about taking the mad scientist who had just murdered someone and fucking him senseless. It was a power trip you'd never get used to. "Your brutal Nightshade, you fuck me like I'm nothing" He whispered. "So you decide to fill your desperate hole with something so I could just pound you when you were done? Were you even planning for us to make it out of the lab? Or did you want me to fuck you on the table you'd just carved someone open on?" You pulled the plug out before ramming it back in. "Maybe next time your working we should put a vibrator in your cum dump of a hole and see how long you last."

You pulled the plug out and tossed it to the side with the scalpel. You lined your dick up with his empty hole as you trail your clean hand up his chest settling over your name which looked beautiful in his skin. "Ask nicely for my cock and I might indulge you." His dignity had long since been abandoned "Please fill your pathetic whore up with cock and cum please-" He trailed off as you started to slowly push yourself in. You paused waiting for him to continue. He looked up at you confused "don't stop! why did you stop?"

"Well, you stopped and I don't recall telling you that you could."

"Oh fuck" He moaned out. You watched his cock twitch and leak as he begged "Please breed me want you to fuck your cum into me. I want to be nothing but a hole for you to fill when you come home please." As he was blabbering you shoved your cock into his ass as the hand that was still settled over your name pushed down on it ripping a scream from him. You let him catch his breath before digging your fingers into the mark again "Tell me slut what's stopping me from writing whatever I want on you hmm?" His brain took a moment to process the threat but once it had he was back to begging "Oh fuck yes, my body is your canvas." He let out a guttural moan as you pulled almost all the way out to set a slow brutal pace. "That's right good boy. My pretty little fuck toy." You weren't going to you hadn't discussed it prior but you did file it away for later.

As you fucked him you once again pushed against your name engraved in his chest and wrapped your hand around his throat squeezing as his eyes widened and then rolled back as he came though you didn't stop fucking him instead opting to fuck him faster. "Pathetic. Should I treat you like one of your subjects? As nothing more than an experiment?" He shuddered trying to breathe while you choked him "Wh-what experiment are you conducting on me?" He managed to force out "My experiment? It's trying to find the limits of your masochism. Letting, no begging me to carve my name into you and then have the audacity to cum without asking after and from me choking you no less. You must be a slut for pain Doctor" he moaned at hearing his title said with such sarcasm. "Yes, fuck yes I'm your pain slut punish m- oh fuck punish me however you want Please!" You kissed him "with pleasure." With that, you made it your mission to fuck him until he either passed out or you decided he'd had enough. Either way, your pet doctor was in for a long night.

[cosmicjoke]

Underneath

Here's a little drabble I wrote today. I always think people misunderstand the reason Levi, presumably, killed those men that cut off Isabel's hair, so I wanted to delve into that with a short little fiction. Anyway, hope you guys enjoy it:

//

Levi finds the men easy enough.

Isabel’s “friends”, hiding away in a rat-infested shithole like the snakes they are.

He’s come to kill them. He’ll give them a single chance. A single warning. But he knows already they won’t listen. Because he knows men like these.

He’s been the victim of men like these.

He’ll need to kill them.

He’d known that the moment Isabel came back, her face bloody and hair shorn. A prelude to something much worse.

Furlan wouldn’t understand. Isabel either. Because they don’t know like he knows.

Men like these…

Levi had grown up with men like these.

His mothers' men. Men who took and took and were never satisfied. Men who saw every woman and child as a doll to do with as they pleased.

Furlan had given him that look before he’d left. Had asked him where he was going. Levi simply told him “out”. But Furlan knew, and he didn’t understand.

Furlan had never killed a man.

Levi had killed many.

What these men had done was a violation. They’d taken from Isabel. And now they would want more. More of her.

They would rape Isabel. Because that’s what this kind of thing always led to.

Furlan didn’t understand, and neither did Isabel, and Levi would make sure they didn’t need to understand, because he would take care of it for them. He would take care of them.

He kicks the door in to announce himself, the thing splintering into pieces.

The men are stationed around a wooden table, playing cards. Five of them. They startle badly at Levi’s intrusion, standing with wide eyes and half-shouts.

“Who the fuck are you?” One of them sneers after a moment, regaining himself.

Levi steps into the room. It stinks like piss and cigars, and Levi frowns, disgusted.

He looks around. Assesses what they have. There’s a gun on the table. A single-shot pistol. A cheap pool table pressed up against the back wall, wooden cues laid out on the green. They’ll likely have blades on them. Nothing to worry over.

Finally be brings his eyes back to them, and steps nearer.

“Leave Isabel alone. You don’t talk to her, you don’t touch her. You don’t even look at her. Understand?” He says.

One of the men scowls, and then laughs.

“Isabel? You mean that cute little red-head that keeps comin’ round?”

“Stay away from her. Yeah?” Levi presses again, ignoring the sickness of the man’s words.

“Or what?” He says. “What are ya gonna’ do about it?”

“If she wants it, she’s gonna’ get it.” Another of the men leers. “Ain’t nothin’ a midget like you can do about it.”

Levi feels his eyes shutter, a cold certainty in his chest.

“I’ll kill you.” He tells them, voice flat.

They all start laughing then. They think it’s funny. They don’t believe him. They don’t understand, either.

“How about instead, next time Isabel comes ‘round, we make sure to show her your severed head as we fuck her raw? How about that, you little freak?”

Levi doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t show anything. Only slips the knife from the sleeve of his shirt, letting the dim glow from the oil lamps glint off the blade as he twirls it, letting them all see.

It gets them good and mad, just like Levi knew it would.

“You runt bastard.”

The first one comes at him, pulling a knife. Levi’s too quick for him. He’s too quick for everyone. The sonofabitch doesn’t know what’s hit him as Levi parries his blade. Doesn’t realize he’s already dead as Levi slices his gut from end to end, his insides spilling out, steaming onto the floor. He’s down on his knees just as another comes up on Levi from behind, trying to pull his arms behind his back.

Levi flips him over his shoulder, sending him crashing down on the wooden table, the thing shattering to splinters. And then there’s a third, coming at Levi from the side, wielding one of those pool cues.

Levi ducks under his swing, and comes up, sinking his blade into the man’s exposed neck, twisting and tearing down, ripping the man’s jugular clean from his throat. He’s dead before he hits the floor.

Two more on their feet, and they’re hesitating now, but they still try him. Still come at him, sloppy and slow. One goes for the gun which had been on the table, lying now on the floor.

Levi doesn’t give him a chance to put his hands on it. Puts his blade into his heart before he can can reach it, and into the eye of the other, to the hilt. They’re both dead in seconds. Just leaves the man on the table, groaning and struggling to sit up, too dazed to realize he’s alone now.

Levi thinks he might let this one go. He thinks he might. Only he’s the one who made the threat against Isabel, and he won’t take that chance.

He slits the bastards throat before he can recover.

He stares at them after. There’s blood everywhere, including his clothes and hands. He’ll wash them off at one of the street pumps. Furlan will know what’s happened. He’ll be disappointed. That was fine. As long as he and Isabel were safe. He could take Furlan’s disappointment. He could take his hate, even.

Isabel still had her innocence. One of the few people in this godforsaken hellhole who did. Levi’s was long gone. Gone since he was a boy, a decade younger than Isabel now. He didn’t matter. She did.

Levi takes what he finds. A couple bags of coin scattered among the debris of the table, some bills of cash. He rifles through the men’s pockets. Not much there. Some cheap knickknacks. An alright looking watch that might fetch something with one of the pawn shops.

He leaves quickly and tries not to dwell on the unhappiness in his gut.

He hated killing.

He doesn’t think Furlan understands that either. He thought it came easy for Levi. But it never did.

Being good at it didn’t ever mean it came easy.

//

Furlan is there, waiting, when Levi comes in.

He’s looking at Levi, eyes narrowed, scrutinizing. Isabel is nowhere in sight. Still in her room, probably.

Levi had washed the blood out of his shirt the best he could. But blood never came out completely. It stained pink against the white fabric.

“Did you kill them?” Furlan asks.

Levi only looks at him.

Furlan knows. He’s only asking to shame Levi. Levi lets him see his knife. And then he turns, and heads into his own room, closing the door behind.

He doesn’t know how to explain to Furlan. Doesn’t know how to make him understand.

Those men would have raped Isabel. They would have killed her, eventually. Or sold her into trafficking.

Levi knows, because he knows men like that.

Like his mother’s men.

Like the men who once had him. Who once tried to sell him into the same kind of life.

Furlan thinks Levi is becoming like those men. He knows. He sees it in the concerned glances of his first, real friend. Sees it in his worried frown.

Levi wishes he could explain. Wishes Furlan could understand.

But Levi’s never been any good with words.