#or maybe shes looking for children to eat

[madamechrissy]

Gojo can't stop thinking about fucking Geto's girl

MDNI- Explicit-eventual smut-Yandere Gojo is obsessed with you, Geto's girlfriend

Part one here (got requests for pt 2, here it is!! rly just silly smut hehe)

Part Two

Satoru's pretty face is in a state of shock as you look over and see your own naked body on his phone. You blush furiously, walking over as Suguru's handsome face is in a scowl, swiping to the right, his mouth wide open. You come to look and see your ass right on Satoru's phone, gasping.

"You took that without me knowing!?" You demand now, crossing your arms and glaring at your boyfriend's best friend. He runs a hand through his silky white hair, blue eyes swirling as he pouts.

"I just think you're really pretty, is all. And Suguru used to share everything with me. Why can't he share you?" Satoru asks softly, coming closer now and brushing your hair back, only for Suguru to smack his hand.

"Satoru, you're so full of shit. No I'm not sharing her!"

"You're mean and greedy, Sugu. Can't even fuck anyone when I have to look at how pretty she is." Suguru's dark violet eyes narrow now, and you're right between the two extremely tall, extremely built men. Satoru is pouting, Suguru is scowling, and your heart is racing.

"Yes I'm greedy, she's the fucking best at everything."

"Rub it in why don't you!"

"I'm deleting these." You say then, snatching up his phone, and he smirks down at you with those pouty lips, leaning against his desk, far too close, you can smell his expensive cologne, a little brighter than Suguru's, his is a little more musky. They both smell good, shit.

"Go ahead, pretty, already have em in the cloud." He says with a grin, and you shove at him then, feeling the hard planes of his chest, and you both pause then. "Sugu, just once?" He asks softly, and Suguru sighs then, watching you both.

"Oh fine, just once. But you'll have to follow my rules." He says, shocking you, your mouth opens as you look back at him, and he chuckles a bit, hand settling at the nip of your waist, big hand burning your through the thin layer of your dress. "You want this, Princess?" He asks softly, and you look back at this psychotic Satoru Gojo, who's got puppy dog eyes, then back at your boyfriend.

"I mean... yes but... I haven't done anything like this..." You whisper, and Suguru gently cups your face.

"It's up to you, maybe we'll put this sad boy in a good mood." You giggle a bit at that, sighing, looking back at Satoru.

"How many times?"

"Have I jerked off to you?"

"Yes." Satoru grins then. "Fuck, maybe I don't wanna know?"

"Can't count em."

"Jesus, Satoru." Suguru grumbles, smacking his forehead now. "I need to smoke."

"Let's smoke, we can blow it on her pussy hmm?" Satoru says with a wicked grin, and you gasp.

"Blow weed smoke on me!?"

Suguru is chuckling, and you wonder at your boyfriend now, as they both stare down at you, eyes drinking in your body slowly. "She's so cute, isn't she Satoru?" Suguru says with a smirk, and you're starting to feel like a little deer in front of two wolves.

"So cute. Well... shall we?" Satoru holds out a hand to you, and Suguru smacks it, making Satoru glare, as he takes your hand instead.

"Rule number one, no holding her hand."

"You're mean!"

Before you know it, you're in the back of Suguru's car, as his driver is taking the three of you to his place. They're on either side of you, thighs spread too far, hands on your legs, Satoru's long pale fingers squeezing the plush of your thigh, Suguru's more tanned, thicker fingers pressing in gently. It's all too fucking much, them arguing like children over your pussy.

Why do you like it though!?

"You better let me eat her out." Satoru says, in the middle of their negotiations, and you throb around nothing, while he licks his full lower lip, staring right at your lap. Your thighs shift, and they both chuckle.

"Fine, she clearly wants to do that." Suguru teases you now with a wink, making you flush. "But you're using a condom."

Suguru says to Satoru, and he snorts. "Fuck that, I really need to hit it raw-"

"Um hello!? I'm here!" Satoru and Suguru smirk down at you again, both of their hands sliding up your thighs, their breaths against each ear, and you're shaking as you look up at Suguru, then at Satoru, seeing the insane hunger in their eyes. "You've done this before, haven't you both?"

"Not with someone as pretty as you." Satoru whispers, leaning close, so close you taste the mints on his breath. "What's the rule on kissing, Sugu?"

Suguru's now rubbing the fabric of your panties, already sticky with your desire, and he kisses on the side of your neck, tickling you, making you cry out. Satoru stares at your gorgeous face hungrily, as he pictures how it will look when he makes you cum, making him strain against his pants, so hard it hurts.

"You can kiss her, if she wants. Do you, Princess?" You nod weakly then, and Satoru Gojo's lips descend hungrily upon yours.

Shit, what were you in for!?

Comment for a part three <3 Wanna be tagged lmk!!

@kakashixhatakesxwhore @sweetthingssourpeople @sylussss7 @teacupwaifu @nanasukii28 @chiyokoemilia @haruhatake @bunheadusa

[fashionteahouse]

Oooo I didn’t know u we’re doing Cauis ❤️ can I get one where cauis is married to a human and he protects her from everything cause even tho she want to turn she wants to wait until her 23 birthday but she ends up pregnant and cauis being scared of what aro might do he turns to the Cullens for help and he’s an absolute dream when the baby comes but he’s sacred for the reader too please make it long

yes yes 🙂‍↕️ hope you enjoy :)

plans - cauis x reader

Eyes were shut as the birthday wish was being made. Thinking and thinking of what to wish for, it ended up being something simple.

You didn’t say it out loud. If you did, it wouldn’t come true.

“I wish for me and my husband to live a fruitful future.”

Blowing out the candles, claps from the coven surround the table. Smiling, you look to see shining bright teeth be happy for you.

Caius pulls the cake candles off as he gives you a slice.

As you dip your fork in it to eat it, Caius then pulls out a black box.

The fork clatters down as he reveals an updated wedding ring. Sliding it onto your finger, the sparkle in the ring almost matched the sparkle in your eye.

“It’s perfect. I love you.” you gush and hold his cool cheeks with both of your hands.

“I love you.” he replies back.

Only one more year and you will spend eternity with him. There have been times where you wanted to throw in the towel but, you wanted to feel like you lived your human life to the best of its capacity.

If Caius’ touches made you melt while you were still human, you couldn’t wait until you turned to be able to enjoy it for all of eternity.

It wasn’t materialistic. You knew the gift that he pumped inside of you came from him, deep in his heart. Your eyes squeeze shut as your inside clung to him while he clung to your back to press you against his chest. Your bucks were wild and crazy, you leaned to his earlobe, taking it into your mouth as you softly suck it and let it go.

His groans became louder as he lost his rhythm. You both clutched to each other as perfect timing let you both hit your peak.

The chunks blew out of you and into the toilet bowl. You kneeled, out of breath and whimpered. You hated the feeling of your stomach pushing in to get all of the vomit out. After rinsing your mouth, Caius carries you back to bed.

“I have so much to do today.” you rasp out as he tucked you tight into bed.

“There’s no way I’m letting my wife overwork herself. Please rest.” he coos to you. His cool hand rest on your forehead and it felt amazing, you felt like you were overheated.

Staring into the mirror, you thought you were going crazy. A curious hand laid on your stomach as you waited.

You felt a small movement that made you jump. How was this possible? How was it possible that your stomach was flat but you felt something move? How was it possible that a vampire who can’t reproduce, reproduced? Maybe you really were just sick and delirious.

You jump back into bed, shutting your eyes. Your hand still snaked to rest protectively on your stomach.

As he fed you soup, you lick your lips from the remaining taste that was left on your lips.

“Caius?” you whisper to him.

He sets the bowl down, “Yes, darling.”

You huff a bit before asking, “Are you sure..That vampires can’t have children?”

His face began to get sad. This conversation has been talked about before. He knew how much you wanted a family, but he explained how he was unable to give you that. He could give you everything, but just not that.

“Yes. I would love for you to be the mother of my children.” he says passionately.

You nod. You decided to check it out for sure. Just to ease your mind, you were going to take tests to be sure.

Four sticks stared back at you. You didn’t know whether or not to be happy or confused, but this was a start of something new.

You weren’t almost patient to wait for Caius to get home. When he did, you thought you would’ve knocked him over from how you ran a hug into him.

He chuckles as he held you close, your feet lifted from the ground as he lays kisses on your skin. You couldn’t stop smiling. He sets you down.

“I see someone is feeling better.” he states as he looks at you.

You take a hand, place it on your stomach and watch him form a look of confusion.

Smiling big, “We’re going to be parents after all.” you say, your voice in excitement.

Caius freezes. His eyes showed the many emotions on his face. You were almost scared as you let his hand drop. A look of defeat rest of your face.

“Are you sure?” he asks, quietly but as if he discovered a phenomenon.

You don’t say anything as you move to retrieve the four pregnancy tests that showed “+” and “pregnant” displayed on them. You were very sure.

He still doesn’t react.

“What’s wrong? I thought….I thought this would be good for us.”

“I don’t know.” he says shaking his head as he moves to sit down, but he takes your hand with him as he snuggles you close to him.

“Wait, lay down.” he tells you. You’re confused but you choose to do so anyway.

With your stomach facing up, he places his ear on it, listening and waiting. You watch as his face gets emotional. He clutched onto you as he then places a kiss on your cloth covered stomach.

“You can’t hear me yet. But I can hear you.” he whispers. His voice was thick and filled with emotion.

You laugh happily as a smile is stuck to your husband’s face. He lay in bed, holding your naked body close to his. It felt like he fell in love with you all over again.

“We have a problem.” he whispers as he runs his hand down your shoulder as you lay on his chest.

“What’s that?” you ask. Everything that you both have wanted, finally was granted.

“Aro.” he says darkly, it sounded like he spat out the name.

You knew about the rules. No immortal children. Your heart races. The child you were going to have, shared his father’s immortal DNA.

Sitting up, “What are we going to do?” you whisper, feeling tears coming.

He shushes you, seeing you become emotional.

“I will handle it. We’re going to need help though.” he tells you. His voice was sure. As long as he was confident, you were confident. It took you a while to calm down enough to drift off, but it only gave Caius the time to think.

”Are you sure we’re not in trouble?” Carlisle carefully asks his daughter who was frozen. She announced that Caius was coming. Specifically to seek the Cullens.

“I don’t see chaos or violence. I just see a conversation. Maybe he will warn us about something. It’s only him. He’s not with Aro or the twins or anybody.” Alice recalls.

Pulling the car to park, he made sure to keep the warm air flowing out as you were buckled into the passenger seat.

“I will come back to get you okay? I need to make sure it’s safe.” Caius tells you as you both stare at the house.

You nod once. He pulls your chin to him as he covered his mouth with yours. Breathing each other in, you both silently told each other “I love you”.

Pressing a kiss on your stomach, he steps out of the car. He doesn’t walk up the stairs. He stands in front of the house. You watched as a coven of vampires emerge out of the home and onto the porch.

Caius makes sure to be non threatening.

“I come in peace. I was hoping we could have a quick chat, Carlisle.” Caius says to the older vampire.

Carlisle nods once as he is left alone on the porch. He comes down to meet Caius, he knew him well enough that his intentions had a hint of genuine concern about something.

“It’s good to see you Caius.” Carlisle says politely.

“It’s good to see you too.” Caius answers back with a slight grin.

“Not that I appreciate your visit, but is there anything I can help you with?” The doctor asks.

“In fact there is.” Caius says as he turns his head to the running car, he tells you to come.

Stepping out of the stopped car, you slowly walk and almost hide behind Caius.

Caius keeps your hand tight in his as he introduced you to the vampire that raked his eyes over you. Feeling the sense of safety, you reach out to shake his hand, but he instead gently gives you a hug.

“Follow me.” Carlisle says as he leads you both into the home. Other amber eyed vampires watched as you and your husband step into the home with the leader of the coven.

Caius nods them all hello as they nod back, still tense. You follow Carlisle into his home office.

He examines you, he is amazed. You are indeed pregnant.

“The baby is growing at an exceptionally fast rate.” he tells you both.

Carlisle hasn’t seen Caius smile like this before. His hard exterior was hard pressed into his mind, the smile almost seemed out of place.

It doesn’t last for long before Caius turns back to seriousness.

“We have a problem. Aro.” he speaks out. Caius rubs small intimate circles on your hand to calm your racing heart.

He didn’t have to say much. Carlisle understood exactly what was being implied.

“I might have to look further into it, but you two are more than welcome to stay here if you would like.”

Carlisle shows you a room where you can get rest from the long journey. You thank him again for his help and hospitality.

“We will figure it out and get through this together.” he says in a helpful tone.

As you rest, Caius help Carlisle put two and two together.

“The problem is, the child is growing fast. This means they will feed off of the mother more than her body will keep up.” Carlisle says to Caius.

Caius grows terrified, “Will something happen to the baby?”

“No. Not at all. However, Y/N is what I’m worried about. The baby can hurt the delicate body of the mother.”

“Will changing her work?” Caius asks out of desperation.

“Im not sure on how the venom will respond to the baby. I think it would be best to carry out her term here. We can keep watch and I will be able to be there if any changes happen.” the doctor explains.

Caius nods.

“Do you think…Aro will kill them.” Caius asks, almost too scared to ask.

“See, that’s the thing. The baby has human DNA. Honestly, the baby has to arrive before we can know for sure.”

Caius agrees to staying. You got to know the Cullen coven. Rosalie helped you pick out names. You didn’t have much energy but you appreciated her enthusiasm for the new world of motherhood. Forgetting to get clothes to fit your newly built body, Alice had you covered with maternal clothes that still made you feel stylish. You appreciated her taste in fashion.

Weird cravings however, were starting to worry you. They started off strange, but a normal enough amount of strange.

One day, you cut yourself as you sliced a tomato for your sandwich as the vampires hunted to savor their own hunger.

Bringing your bloody finger to your mouth, you almost moaned at how good it tasted. You pull your finger quickly away once you realized this.

“The baby has thirst for blood it seems.” Carlisle tells you, as you bring your worries to him.

A hand rests of the swollen stomach that looked like it was going to burst any moment.

Carlisle was a bit worried. He tried his best to pump you with vitals but it seemed to get sucked away by the living person inside of you.

“I have no energy as well. I was out of breath just from making a sandwich.” you tell him.

Caius hearing this, he leaves the room. Carlisle follows after him after he helps you lay down on the couch. You were getting worried by his departure. It wasn't until you were dozing off until Carlisle comes back with him, handing you a cup.

“Please drink this. Caius thinks this will work. It may give you some type of energy.” Carlisle says to you.

You take it, looking at the red liquid. You look to Caius as he sits close to you, putting your feet into his lap. It was okay for you to drink.

Taking a sip, the taste was exquisite. You sucked the liquid until the cup was empty. Caius is relaxed and has a happy look on his face.

“Better?” he asks you softly.

“A bit, yes.” you tell him honestly.

“Don’t worry. Once our family is complete, this will all be worth it.”

“I know.” you tell him and lean to give him a kiss.

A gush of water burst from you as Caius helps you clean yourself up in the bath.

Laying you down on the table, you just remember being in pain. Medication wasn’t working. It felt like something was scratching inside of you to burst through. Screams were held at an high octave as Carlisle prepares you to push. Pushing not working, Carlisle has to use other measures.

“Get her out of pain, Carlisle!” Caius hisses at the doctor.

“You have to bite through the sac.” Carlisle orders Caius, as he cuts just above the pubic bone. Caius is getting angry by the pain that being caused to you.

It was a drastically painful process. The bloody, but crying baby was beautiful.

“I love you both.” you whisper to Caius as you allow him to have a turn to hold them. Pressing lips to yours, “I love you too.” he says back.

He held the baby tight as he placed a careful kiss on the baby’s forehead. His eyes shined as he looked at his first born. Cooing and whispering, “I’m your dad.” “Yes, it’s me.”

Carlisle is too focused on keeping your heart beating. The chances of you was making it was low.

“I need you to stay awake for me, Y/N.” Carlisle says, watching your eyes trying to droop.

Your eyelids were getting heavy, you just focused on your husband and your baby. You felt completely wiped. You wanted to do nothing but sleep.

Caius noticing, he calls for Rosalie to hold the newborn, the person he knows you trust with the child. Making sure the baby is clean, Carlisle orders Rosalie to stay out of the room as she catches a whiff of your blood.

Caius tried talking to you to keep you talking but, Carlisle noticed your heart beat slowing down.

“Please don’t be mad. I love you.” Caius says in a panicked state. He kisses you quickly but deeply.

He then moves and grasp your neck and bites down hard, injecting venom into your bloodstream. He doesn’t let go.

Even though his cold mouth was on your neck, you didn’t feel the usual goosebumps like you always did. Instead, your body felt warm. The warmth intensified as your body felt hotter and hotter. It felt like you were being burnt alive.

Withering in pain, you curse everything around you. You wanted to rip through your skin. You wished you were strong enough to push Caius off of you. Caius only held onto you as he kept biting your neck, focusing on putting as much venom in your bloodstream.

“That’s enough Caius. She will turn.” Carlisle says. Even though your screams were bloodcurdling, Caius heard him and slowly detached himself from you.

He hated seeing you in pain. It made him remember his own transformation. He wanted to cry so badly. He turned his back.

Rosalie held the newborn close to her as she went to the other side of the house. A fresh warm bottle of milk was sucked down by the newly arrived human.

Rosalie sung a soft lullaby to the baby. Edward played a peaceful piece, trying his best to block out the painful screams that were coming from behind the closed door.

Jasper rises up and makes his way into the room that you were in. He focused on easing your emotion of pure pain and agony.

Your clothes were dirty, you sped through the forest, attacking your first victim. You were so thirsty, you didn’t wait for Caius to catch up. He was too busy amazed, you were so beautiful that it seemed as though you weren’t in pain, just three days prior.

Walking back to the Cullen’s house, hand in hand with the thirst of the both of you being taken care of, you both freeze as you see the front door opened.

A crisp wave of a familiar scent hits your nose. You look to Caius as he moves protectively in front of you.

Walking into the house, the older vampire turns, clasping his hands together.

“Y/N. Caius.” he says.

“Aro.” you both say at the same time.

“I’m a bit hurt. A farewell would’ve been nice.”

“We had a situation to handle.” Caius answers back, not backing down.

“I see.” Aro says with a spark in his eye, showing a small grin. He then catches sight of you, moving toward you but Caius keeps you behind him as he stares down at the leaders

“Relax Caius. I’m just happy that your wife is finally a part of us, is all.” Aro says.

You knew what he wanted. You held your hand for him to take. He’s flattered, giving you a smile. He hold your hand tight as he watched your memories of what has happened for the past couple of weeks. You watched as his emotions quickly changed on his face through each event.

Letting your hand go, he turns his head to Rosalie who is protectively holding the baby. He walks towards them, but the Cullens hiss and get ready to pounce, circling in front of Rosalie and the baby to back Aro off.

“I hear a heart beat.” Aro just simply says.

“I don’t trust you.” Caius spits out.

“My, my, my. I don’t think there’s any need for that, Caius.” Aro replies back.

“The baby is not immortal. So therefore, you can’t kill it.” Carlisle says, speaking up for you and Caius.

Aro stared at the stirring baby in Rosalie’s arms.

“Do you see the blood in their cheeks as well?” Carlisle asks him.

Aro takes a moment to appreciate the sight. Glad that execution isn’t needed, glad that no rules have been broken, he forms his lips into a civilized smile.

“I do. I have no plans of execution. All of this time, I thought it was impossible. Y/N, do you mind if I hold them?” he asks you.

Caius looks to you. You then look to Aro, giving him a short nod.

Aro holds the small child as if it was a delicate china dish. Your shoulders relax, sensing the genuine love that Aro was starting to have for the child.

You give Carlisle a strong hug, hugging him tight. “Thanks so much for everything.” you tell him.

“Of course, Y/N. Have you thought of being on the same diet as us?”

“Maybe.” you say thinking of your child but you didn’t feel the strong thirst when it came to them. You preferred your prey to be trapped in fear, it made the blood sweeter in your opinion.

“If you have any questions or concerns, call me please.” Carlisle says. You nod as you hug him again. “It was nice to meet you. Please visit us from time to time.” he tells you. You smile at him.

“Please visit us.” Rosalie tells you.

You tinker out a laugh, knowing she wants to be around your child. The baby was out of its newborn phase, but still small enough to still hold. You started to see the sped up growth in real time, before your eyes.

The new addition, added a bit of excitement for the Volturi coven. The child kept everyone busy, even causing some disagreements and fights over who gets to watch the child first.

Soon, your baby was talking. First words were, “Da-da.” Caius couldn’t have asked for anything more perfect. Being a dad meant something special for him. He was glad to finally be able to gift you something that you have always wanted. A family. A family that would last forever.

[hauntingblue]

making a collection

making another collection with a threatening aura

[selindogn]

"I understand wanting things at a bargain or for free but you've got no clue what people have done to the food you're asking for. I'd be worried to send my children out and then have them eat it later on." Sure the parents could look over them but without unwrapping each candy, there was really no way of making sure they hadn't been tampered with. "Maybe I just expect the worst of people."

"You may be too old for it. You won't find judgement from me about hiding away in your home while kids pass on the street. I'll be doing the same." Probably while eating the candy that she should be handing out but she didn't have the patience to give out candy throughout the night for something she didn't understand. "I won't be participating in any shape." / @castellcnos

"I think it's just a way for people to escape who they are for a night and get free shit in return. People love free shit." Ricardo shrugged. He enjoyed Halloween, the concept of it, but it seemed as the years went on, the spectacle of the whole thing had gotten worse. Kids were mean, teenagers were mean, adults were mean. Where had the fun gone?

"Oh I will absolutely be turning my lights off and pretending to not be home. I mean, I live over on Crystal Cove so that's fairly simple to do, but either way, I will not be answering that door for no one. Most likely because I'll be out anyway, don't know if I'll dress up or I'm too old for it now. What about you?"

@selindogn

[justaboot]

tw disordered eating /

i personally hc that della REALLY struggles with food after the moon (and also that she had an ed when she was a teen/young adult). ur the della expert what do u think

I’ve definitely written about that, mostly in some more in-depth in works I don’t really plan on publishing. I do think she’d have a complicated relationship afterwards, and without getting to far into it, it’s hard to get back into eating, especially anything more than “turn the hunger button off” meals after a long time going without. You can’t not eat and then slam back a meal, and I think she’d let an invisible problem get out of hand rather than acknowledge long-term moon after effects that would get her grounded from traveling or put under a spotlight.

Very often, when people write about ed’s, the default is a character not eating, because western society has twisted that to be sympathetic and desirable, and while I do think she’d struggle with routine, I hc any issue would come from either scarcity or physical complications, which would have a more nuanced result.

I do think it’s interesting in the show she’s seen as resource guarding (I guess is the best way to put it) what with carrying around the gum after months, and I do think there would have been more about it in a more mature show.

[monty-glasses-roxy]

I feel like I don't talk much about how Roxy's still a asshole in my stuff. So. Um.

Yeah Roxy's still an asshole lmao

[cienie-isengardu]

After watching Chapter 20: The Foundling (s03e04), I think I finally figured out why Children of the Watch bugs me so much. Ironically this is not just about the helmet rule even though at this point in the story I find it hysterically hilarious how the show doesn’t follow its own worldbuilding. Like Din got kicked out from the Tribe because he took off his helmet and Armorer - who usually is fair and act as the voice of reason - didn’t even bother to ask for the reason behind it (and at least one time was about Din getting medical help and the other, if I remember correctly, was done to save Grogu) with moment before Paz Vizsla claiming he has never took off his helmet because this is the way but now Children of the Watch take off the helmets to eat like no big deal, when we already saw Din eating while not revealing fully his face? Like, sorry, either you are not allowed to take that blasted thing (about what we have two seasons and a bit Book of Boba Fett) or you are allowed to do so in certain situations but if the letter is true, then not asking Din for reason behind his action and just kicking him out on spot is so… jerk move. Double so, when Armorer claims that saving a Foundling is the “highest honor of the Creed '' and isn’t it what all Din’s actions are about through the last two seasons? 

I sidetracked. 

Anyway, the mentioned scene of Mandalorians scattering around to eat alone so other people don't see their faces (the act of removing the helmet) is what frustrated me so much about this group. Children of the Watch are recognized as a Mandalorian community but they don’t feel much to be one?

On one hand, the show established that members of the Children of the Watch:

 support each other in various ways. Like coming to aid a fellow Mandalorian in fight whatever said members are on good terms or not (Paz and Din in the first season) or providing material goods, as we are both shown (with Din) and told (by Armorer) that “It is a tradition [...] for each to donate a small portion of what they earn to the foundlings”. So those who earn money or get their hands on anything special like beskar, support the most vulnerable ones (orphans) of their Tribe. Which is definitely a positive aspect of their community (even if so far we see only(?) Din to wander through the galaxy and actually earn money and share them with his people). 

celebrate (witness) together an important moments of individual members like the ceremonial accepting Creed by Ragnar or Din’s official return after Armorer confirmed his proof about Living Waters 

train together and the older (more experienced) members act as mentors

organize a searching (war) party for a child abducted by predator animal

So it can’t be denied that Children of the Watch is a community in which all members take part in the social life of the Tribe, and all play some specific roles. The adults mentor the less experienced people and act as protectors in times of danger, Armorer is providing knowledge and guidance but also (alongside Paz Vizsla?) guards tradition and “punishes” for breaking the rules - and it is important to note she is usually presented as fair judge, as it was seen with Din and Paz’s rocky relationship through the all seasons.  

On another hand we don’t see Children of the Watch (beside Armorer and Paz) interact with Din or Bo in any meaningful way that builds the feeling of truly belonging to this little society or even between each other in background? And here comes my realization with the rescue group sitting around the fireplace. The food was distributed, Bo’s position as leader acknowledged by Paz and then… everyone went on their own to eat in solitude. Which is so anticlimactic in regard to building any personal connection between Tribe and newcomer. They were a rescue group, on “enemy” territory (with some dangerous local fauna, there could be more hungry predators lurking in the night) and instead of sharing the warmth of firework, the sitting (eating) by the fire is treated as privilege.

Eating together and sharing food with your community is a universal bonding experience and it is no wonder that Bo-Katan is out of her depth so much in that scene, when one remembers she was for years part of Death Watch. And we know thanks to The Clone Wars (a tie-in material from the same New Canon) that Death Watch feasted together (A Friend in Need)

or even during Pre and Maul talk about alliance - a pretty important moment for both involved parties - there was one warrior who apparently chose to eat/drink between his folks rather than sitting (alone) somewhere else.

Hell, even when Din and Boba Fett seek her in the previous season, she and Koska also ate a meal together.

Of course, those little scenes are just glimpses at life of other mandalorian groups, but there is drastic contrast between Children of the Watch (eat alone so no one see you removing helmet/showing face) and what Bo-Katan experienced within two separate communities (Death Watch and her clan/followers). And I think this is the reason why Children of the Watch doesn’t feel like a true community to me. Sure, they train together and take part in ceremonies and aid each other in fight, but there is little of actual personal relationship? Little of normal things the community do together like exactly eating and sharing a place by the fire?

And there is something really bothering how the morally dubious Death Watch act as a community, not only with the training, but also eating a meal together or talking with each other - what could be observed in various scenes between the unnamed members.

In general I think TCW provided a better feeling of Death Watch’s daily life outside of combat than The Mandalorian show did for the Children of the Watch. It is doubly weird that Pre Vizsla of all people bothered to offer Maul a tea when they were making alliance as a gesture of goodwill and/or playing the good host role

while Bo-Katan (a newcomer) is left to eat alone because no one is allowed to remove the helmet in company thus can’t eat together. Come to think about it, Bo-Katan too offered to share her food with Grogu and Din in the “Mines of Mandalore” which adds to the feeling how food - as bonding / belonging to community - means a lot to her or Mandalorian in general.

Additional feeling of the not-so-good community sense comes from the same episode and is about how Ragnar could walk away from the group unnoticed when apparently Children of the Watch are perfectly aware of dangerous predators lurking around. And the kid walked to the edge of the water from which Tribe was already attacked by a beast and for some reason no one noticed it? Like Din was there when Ragnar just walked away but he was too busy praising Grogu even though, as the adult and part of the community he was responsible for other (especially less experienced) members. He however could have zero knowledge of the flying predator that may snatch the kid but the Tribe living there knew but did not bother to guard their children better? As was shown, they didn’t put anyone on guard duty to make sure those training together were safe or to keep an eye on kids wandering away from the group? You know, to not repeat the tragedy that already befall on their community in the recent past? It is especially weird to me, because the whole episode put so much pressure on how saving a foundling (or child in general) is the most honorable part of the Creed yet the Children of the Watch, as a collective, did not provide the safety to the most vulnerable members as they could despite the knowledge about danger and already experienced tragedy.

And sure, we could argue hey this kid is a sworn Mandalorian and maybe the Mando doesn’t fret about children safety as we, the no-warrior people, do. But the thing is, none of the monsters the Tribe faced was something a single adulr warrior could beat alone. It was always a community effort to beat them - and mind you, the “water beast” ultimately was killed by fire from Din’s spaceship so it is not something that a lonely kid could achieve on his own. The flying monster also was defeated because of cooperation of several warriors (though they maybe could kill it faster if the animal didn’t hold the kid). Which is why I find the execution of the plot weak from the in-universe perspective, as this tragedy was easy to avoid if only the Tribe bothered a bit more with common sense and security (something they were much more focused on in the first season?)

Of course, the show is an ongoing project so maybe the future episodes will change my mind about Children of the Watch, but for now I have very mixed feelings about them as the Mandalorian community. They are built as one for sure but they don’t really feel like a real community so far to me. Especially not compared to Death Watch, as was presented by the same New Canon.

[veilxstars]

Marisol paused, feeling the weight of Ocean's admission. She could sense the turmoil swirling beneath his surface, a current of unspoken fears and regrets that pulled at her heart. She felt like she understood - not the reason why he was like this - that she didn't know, but she had grown up with Lorraine, and Lorraine had been a demanding teacher, her high standards often leaving Marisol feeling like she could never measure up. Each chemical burn etched into her left hand told a story—a testament to the long nights spent perfecting her craft and the punishments as a result of her failures. She had faced her challenges head-on, but the scars remained. In Ocean's eyes, she recognized a similar battle, one fought in silence... and she wasn't sure if he was winning.

“What’s on your mind?” she asked, her tone gentle but insistent. “What’s weighing you down?”

She gave him space to answer - if he wanted. She wouldn't pry. Marisol's gaze wandered around the patch, where the odd shapes of the gourds seemed to pulse with life under the evening light. Some magic had a smell to it. Others had a feeling. A sound. Her magic always carried the soft sound of bells. It was the sort of noise that could easily be ignored - overlooked, as though the wind through the trees were simply carrying a sound -- but Marisol knew her magic best, and she took comfort in the tinkling sound of bells.

“You’re drawn to that pumpkin for a reason. Just look at it. It’s a little misshapen, maybe overlooked, but that doesn’t diminish its value. We all have scars - things we want to hide, change, ignore -- but someone is going to see us and decide that - for whatever reason - they want us.”

Marisol knelt beside the misshapen pumpkin, her fingers grazing its rough exterior, feeling the energy thrumming beneath her touch. “This one deserves a home too. Everyone should feel like they belong, imperfections and all.” She met Ocean's gaze, her expression gentle. For all the rumors that she was the Dragon Lady - the one who chased children out of her garden, the lady in red, the femme fatale out to steal husbands (wives)...she was also trying to be a better person for others than what she had been given in her life. “Reaching out for connection can be tricky. Sometimes we find it, and sometimes we don’t, but that can't stop us from trying. We all crave that bond, and it’s okay to want it—even when we’ve been hurt before. That longing is a part of being human.”

She leaned closer to the pumpkin, closing her eyes for a moment as she sensed its energy, almost like a pulse beneath the surface. “If you want it, take it. It might have something for you. Make a pie out of it, eat a slice at midnight - maybe you'll find something in this pumpkin you gravitated towards.”

As Ocean listened to Marisol talk about her past, he felt a surge of sadness for her. It didn't seem like she had had the easiest time in life, yet here she was being kind and pleasant and happy. Meanwhile, Ocean had had a by all accounts joyous upbringing, and he was sad nearly all of the time. This just hammered home the fact that the problem here was him, that he as a person was the reason for the blackness inside him, not what had happened to him. But Ocean didn't share this with Marisol because he knew that she would disagree, that she would tell him that it wasn't true, and Ocean didn't want to disappoint her either. So he just said, "I'm really sorry that happened to you, Marisol. And I'm sorry people try to just use you so much. It's not fair. And...I'm kind of doing the same thing right now, aren't I?" The realization hit Ocean like a ton of bricks, and he stopped abruptly. "Oh my God, I'm just as bad as everyone else in your life." The realization was startling, and Ocean hated himself for being another person who used Marisol. He hadn't meant to do it, but that's what was happening now, and Ocean couldn't take it back.

But Ocean was already here, and he didn't want to be rude when Marisol had gone through all of this trouble. So he just walked with her through the patch, listening to her talk. "I loved someone once too," Ocean told Marisol. "He wasn't beautiful though. He was...like a disease, but I kept trying to please him. And he's still a disease even though he's gone. He won't ever really be gone though." Aaron would always be a part of him, for better or for worse.

There was something that felt so magical about being out in the patch tonight, and it wasn't just the fact that there was actual magic at play right now. It just felt special. Looking around at the pumpkins, Ocean saw one that caught his eyes, one that was kind of misshapen, probably overlooked by the people earlier. Immediately Ocean was drawn to it, could empathize with it, an actual pumpkin, and he walked toward it and sat down in the patch next to it. "This one reminds me of me," Ocean said softly. All the other pumpkins around it were gone, and he said, "I don't want it to be lonely. Can I take this one please?"

[starry-bi-sky]

I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing the— DPxDC Prompt

“Woah. You look like shit."

Granted, that’s probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; he’s not running on 100% right now either.

The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.

"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."

And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.

The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.

If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.

"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.

"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.

"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.

The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.

He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."

There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.

"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."

Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"

"Daniel? Is that you?"

His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.

[hairmetal666]

"I'm going to marry you one day, Steve Harrington," he declares to all and sundry (Steve and Robin) in Family Video.

Steve laughs, ducks his head, hair a bountiful cascade that doesn't move an inch. He's blushing but it's not, like, a reaction to the sentiment of marriage. Steve knows Eddie is just like that, flirtatious and over-the-top and incapable of not speaking his thoughts as soon as they enter his head.

Robin roles her eyes, goes back to flipping through her magazine, something about cinema, and Eddie swipes his just rented movies off the counter.

"You think I'm joking," he twists so he's facing them, walking backwards to the door. "But I swear it, oh, beloved purveyor of movies and deleter of late fees."

"Yeah, yeah." Steve's face is pinker than before and Eddie recognizes and immediately forces himself to forget how cute it is. "But get out of here before I change my mind."

And Eddie, he loves to push his luck and also has very little filter between his brain and his mouth, so he says, "aw, don't be that way, Stevie, you love me."

Robin looks up, then, mouth a pursed twist as she tries not to laugh. "Gross, Eddie." She throws a Sour Patch at him. "Keep all that mushy stuff to when you two are alone."

It's his turn to blush, fierce and raging, and Steve whirls, squeaking, to whack Robin with a Twizzler.

Eddie points at her. "Rude, Buckley. You know I love you too."

"Again, gross." She sticks out her tongue, tinged blue from the Sour Patch.

"We really need to work on your ability to accept affection," Steve tells her.

She scowls, kicks him, makes Eddie laugh.

"I think that's my cue to leave, children." He says. He, quite literally, bows out of the store, just missing the barrage of candy thrown his way.

---

Three Months Later

Eddie stumbles into the Harrington house, kicking his boots off by the door. Steve's in the kitchen, fussing around the stove. His hair's askew and he's--

"Harrington, are you wearing an apron?" He ignores the kick in his chest at the sight. "You'll make a sweet little housewife one day."

"Shut-up," Steve says without any heat. "Try this."

He brandishes a spoon filled with red sauce in Eddie's direction, and Eddie--heart always on his sleeve--eagerly leans in to taste. He closes his eyes, savors, and it's good, truly. Perfect fresh acidity with just a burst of sweetness.

"It's amazing, baby," he says without thinking. He opens his eyes right in time to see Steve turning back to the sauce, blush high on his cheekbones.

"Thanks. You're making me nervous though, hovering." Steve hip checks him. "Go sit somewhere."

And Eddie does, jumps onto the island--the Harrington's are the kind of people who have an island--and chatters to Steve about his day, about his new campaign, about the new song he's trying to learn.

All the while, he's watching Steve cook, in his apron, with such care and thoughtfulness, with true command. Maybe it's the domesticity of the scene, maybe his raging crush, but he has this flash of the two of them in the future. In their kitchen, Steve cooking dinner, and Eddie's arms are wrapped around his waist, he's pressing kisses to his temple, complimenting all his hard work and--

Steve feeds him a bite of the finished pasta, and it's so good that he groans, full-throated, unembarrassed, and says--he says, "I'm going to marry you one day, Steve Harrington."

He laughs, face pink, batting Eddie's shoulder. "Go sit down, man. It's time to eat."

---

Two Months After That

Eddie's working on a new campaign when the storm rolls in, wind rocking the trailer, thunder and lightning crackling in the sky. The power doesn't go out, but only just barely, the flickers making his heart pound for reasons that have nothing to do with weather.

There's a knock on the trailer door, and he opens it to find Steve Harrington standing on the porch, hair plastered to his head, clothes soaked. Robin's bike is propped against one of the awning supports. Familiar panic snaps to life in his gut.

"God, Steve, are you okay? Did something happen? That's Robin's bike, where's the Beamer? Is it--is it Vecna? Is--" He's blabbering can't stop, so he shoves his palm against his lips.

"It's not--not Upside Down stuff." He runs a hand through his soggy hair. "Can I come in, man? I--I want to tell you something."

This snaps Eddie out of his panic, and he's moving aside, saying, "Oh my god, get in here, you're soaked. Let me get towels. Do you want a change of clothes, I can--"

Steve catches him by the elbow and he full stops at the look in those big hazel eyes, fearful and sad and he doesn't know what, but his anxiety amps back up.

"I was with Robin and we were--we were talking, you know? And I told her that I like somebody, like really like them, but it was unexpected and--and--it's a guy. He's a guy but I still like girls? Robin said--she said that I'm probably bisexual. That I like guys and girls and--and everyone, I think."

It sends shockwaves through him, and he hopes it doesn't show, doesn't think it shows, but he's having trouble processing. Steve is bi and he likes someone and--Eddie stuffs down the jealousy that claws at him, knows it's more important that he's here for his friend.

"Thank you for telling me, sweetheart." He reaches out, slow in case Steve doesn't want to be hugged, but he launches himself into Eddie's arms.

Eddie holds him tight, heedless of his wet clothes, can feel his shoulders shake, and it tears Eddie's heart in two. All he can do is hold Steve and offer comfort, jealousy be damned.

"You're so brave, honey," he says once the tears taper off.

Steve gives a wet chuckle, face still buried against Eddie's neck. "I don't know about that. I think I got snot in your hair."

"It'll wash out." He laughs. "Is now the time to welcome you to the family? Apparently, we're growing exponentially."

"Does the welcome include a cake or something? I could really use cake."

And God, Steve, is so fucking cute, so sweet, so--everything Eddie has always wanted, and he--it's an accident, or at least, thoughtless--he presses a kiss to Steve's temple. More than one.

Steve pulls back fast, and Eddie lets go immediately. "Sorry, sorry. I--that was stupid. You like someone already, and I--"

His words are cut off as Steve kisses him. Steve kisses him? His brain can't process, but he kisses back. Can't not, not with Steve. Like, he doesn't know anything, head empty, but his body is with the program.

They break apart, he's breathing hard. Steve is beautifully flushed, mouth red and swollen. "You like someone," is what Eddie says.

Steve laughs. "I like you, Munson. Fucking crazy about you."

He smiles, so big it hurts, so big it grows into a delight laugh. "I'm going to marry you one day, Steve Harrington," he says.

---

Six Years Later

They're in bed, Saturday morning, rain pattering softly on the window.

Steve places slow kisses against his naked tummy, makes him tremble, shiver with overstimulation.

"Baby," he whines. "Sweetheart."

Steve smiles up at him, something cold pressing against his ribs, then into his hand.

It's a ring, black metal, shiny and iridescent as he turns it in the light. "What--Steve?"

With one last kiss to his hip bone, Steve sits up, slips the ring onto Eddie's finger. "I'm going to marry you one day, Eddie Munson."

[scumpatrol]

Astarion: "Probably more Baldurian parents scare their children with stories of your kind than mine."

And my hunger was never fed My desires never fulfilled But my wish to become One with the universe Has always entangled me And forsaken I shall not be Though my flesh is torn apart Though my heart seems dead and cold My will transgresses The spirit lives on. 🖤😈🖤 for @scumpatrol’s tiefling Lilith

[babyleostuff]

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞

𝜗𝜚 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄: fluff, established relationship 𝜗𝜚 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: idol!hoshi x fem!reader 𝜗𝜚 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 565

⦗💌 ⦘ it's no secret that the kwon siblings love to tease each other. but what happens when you come into play?

“stop touching my food!” soonyoung whined, as his sister quickly stole another piece of meat from his plate, giggling quietly. that had to be the third time she did that in the last five minutes, and hoshi was having none of that. “told you you shouldn’t have ordered that salad,” he muttered, looking at the last pieces of his favourite food on the nearly empty plate. 

“children, could you stop fighting for once and let us eat in peace?” his father chimed in. “we can’t take you out anywhere.” 

you, on the other hand, were too focused on your own food to notice the bickering that was happening right next to you. your day had been long and tiring, and this had to be your first meal of the day, so no one was really surprised that you were kind of in your own world at the moment. besides, at this point you were so used to the kwon siblings teasing each other that you stopped paying much attention to it. 

“it’s not my fault he’s being a chil- hey! why does she get to steal your food?” soonyoung’s sister asked indignantly, pointing her finger at you. “why are you not yelling at her, huh?” 

you quickly stopped in your tracks with your fork between yours and hoshi's plate with the last piece of his meat on it, and you could feel everyone's eyes on you without having to look up. “huh? what’s going on?” you asked, confused. sharing food in your relationship was normal, to be honest - you never fully ate whatever you ordered, you always shared it between each other, so why did you feel like you just committed a crime? 

“maybe because she’s my girlfriend, you moron,” soonyoung snickered, and moved his arm from the back of your chair to lay his hand on your thigh. “eat up, baby. don’t worry about her,” he said, and pecked your temple. 

his sister laughed bitterly, and set her fork down, clearly annoyed. “don’t worry about her? remember who’s the oldest here, kwon soonyoung.” 

your eyes wandered between the two with amusement, as you munched on the meat you just stole from soonyoung. it must have looked really funny from the perspective of the people sitting at the nearby tables - two adults shouting insults at each other like five-year-olds, but for you (less for their parents) this  was pure entertainment. 

your boyfriend and his sister were the epitome of a brother- sister dynamic. 

“oh my god, why are you so surprised i’m letting my literal girlfriend have my food?” he probably didn’t notice how his grip on you slightly tightened on the word “girlfriend”, but you couldn’t hide the small smile as he did that. it was cute how his body was unconsciously paying attention to you without him even knowing. “stop being a pain in the ass, and keep eating that grass or whatever that is.” 

“did you just rhyme ass with gra-?” 

“okay, you know what? you,” soonyoung’s mom pointed her fork at her daughter, “stop stealing his food. and you,” now she turned her head to her son, “have nothing left on that plate so leave, or keep your mouth zipped.” 

“but mom, it wasn’t me who started this!” 

yeah, the kwon family was a funny bunch, and you thanked your luckiest stars you could be a part of this beautiful mess.

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[macheriee]

𝒜pocalypse ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

⌗ everyone knew the boy’s father was lord commander of the city watch, that much was apparent. to your mother he was another insult to the throne, to you he was just the bastard, until he wasn’t.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 tags enemies to lovers, hate-fucking kinda, aunt-nephew incest, targaryen-hightower!reader, TW: dub-con (oc struggles w/ accepting she got the hots for jace) call it horny guilt lmao but the first encounter is very much dubious but she gives in, lust at first sight, domesticity, fingering, pussy-eating, jace is low-key a simp/sub, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, impact play(?), breeding kinks cause it’s HOTD, rough sex, oc is mean asf at first, happy but angsty ending, light to medium angst, pregnancy mention, kinda canon it lowkey follows ssn 2 n some of 1 but not by a lottt (ex. mentioned scenes/flashbacks), oc n jace have been aged up (20), tweaked a few things to make sense so not completely canon, slow-burn ish but then it’s just fast burn lmao, curly-headed!jace 4ever, TW: oc has a panic attack

ᯓᡣ𐭩 word count 10.7k

your lips my lips, apocalypse..

“Bastards,”

You’ve heard the strange term tumble from your mother and grandsire’s lips the day king Viserys brought forth princess Rhaenyra’s children. They each stood mockingly with their dark unruly curls and equally colored eyes, an uncanny resemblance to the city watch commander.

The truth of it was they were no true Velaryon, nor Targaryen—but a Strong. You wondered if Rhaenyra felt shame the way they came out with their plain features, mayhaps not as your mother said the princess was as stubborn as her dragon mount.

From the start Jacaerys was an aggravating little thing to look at as children when you both clung to your mother’s skirts. His eyes were filled with curiosity as were yours before Alicent found herself shielding you from his sight like she was afraid he’d sully you.

It was clear she had zero desire for her children to associate with Rhaenyra’s much to the king’s dismay (but when has father ever cared?) Your mother hardly kept you out of her sight and if it wasn’t her you were accompanied by your siblings, a handmaid, or Cole.

You never lacked in needing “friends” and grew fine without their company as you had Aegon, Aemond, and Helaena. Occasionally you saw Jacaerys and his brother running about like little savages in the halls but you’re pulled away by a Septa just short of crossing paths.

Jacaerys was the one who intrigued you the most. It might have been age but you didn’t understand why it was so bad? What had Jacaerys done for your mother to forbid you from speaking with him? He was a bastard, yes, but what did it exactly have to do with you?

Jace—Jacaerys, wasn’t a threat. You had no throne nor a title of some sorts to claim; there was nothing to your name, so why?

As children during joint lessons there were timid but not so secret glances exchanged. Mostly curiosity but it was something both Cole and your brothers disapproved of, especially Aemond who had come to Helaena’s chambers angry after a lesson in the dragon pits with Aegon and Rhaenyra’s sons.

Eventually they left for Dragonstone, never to be seen again until a day before your tenth name day when you’re called to Driftmark for Lady Laena’s funeral. Why you were called upon such a thing you don’t know, nor care really as you hadn’t known the lady much.

The entire event was a waste—your brother was maimed, the king being the king chose his eldest’s side and the family further divided. Alicent wept and mourned Aemond as Rhaenyra’s bastards would have your brother’s eye. You looked at Jacaerys in anger, resentment, and frustration.

Who was responsible, you don’t care, what angered you was the fact that they paraded their entitlement so freely and shamelessly. Rhaenyra could have outright said she wanted Aemond’s head and your father would still find a way to make excuses for her. (Maybe even give her what she wanted.)

That was the last you ever saw of him before leaving for Kings Landing to resume life without them. You found it much more enjoyable without your half-sister and her family around, in fact you’d rather it stay that way forever.

On occasion you found yourself thinking of your nephew. The memories clung to the walls leaving a bitter taste in your mouth, one in particular haunting:

You and the king stood together atop the balcony watching as Ser Cole trained with the princes—including Rhaenyra’s sons. It was clear Cole favored your brothers evident in the way he praised one side but barked orders (or completely ignored) at the other.

“They’ll make fearsome knights, don’t you think?” Your father turns to you with a gentle smile, his tone warm but distant.

“Possibly, if Aegon ever decides to leave his cups.” You fall into silence shortly after.

You never knew what to say to your father having been so distant and neglected it felt like you didn’t know him at all. You tolerated him at best and affection was out of the question leaving you with nothing, just mere acquaintances.

The king chuckles quietly and his mouth parts to speak with his Hand but Jacaerys interrupts with his angry cry as he charges forward at Aegon. Your lips part in surprise and out of the corner of your eye you see Ser Harwin circling, watching.

Aegon uses the straw dummy to avoid Jacaerys. He’s quick to corner the smaller, kicking Jacaerys down in the process.

“Don’t let him get up.” Cole barks which spurs the commander into action.

You watch in amusement as Cole is beaten to a bloody pulp by the bastard’s father. The king turns with concern, given this was no sight for a lady, “Why don’t you go and see if your mother needs something, perhaps your sister?”

You bow in courtesy, escorted away by your sworn shield but your mother’s apartments aren’t the place you’ll be going, no, you want to watch this mess play out a little longer.

“I wish to see my brothers.” You command softly, already walking towards the training grounds even if your knight was willing or not.

They’re pulling Harwin off when you step foot outside, Jacaerys and his brother huddle close while your older brother in particular looks both amused and bored of the entire ordeal already. No doubt still pissy about being grabbed and promptly scolded by the king (‘Aegon!’) .

“Sister,” Aemond greets once you’ve joined him and Aegon.

“How were your lessons?” You quietly fuss over his messy tunic whilst checking for any bruising or cuts on his face, thankfully none.

Aemond responds in kind with Aegon loudly interrupting but you ignore him and his poor manners. You can’t help the way your eyes flit over him and his brother from across the yard, your gaze scrutinizing and judgemental like your queen mother often wore when she expressed her displeasure.

The little bastard actually rises to the challenge. “Jace!” You turn in time to see him advancing quickly, expression full of anger and accusation.

“Is there something you have to say?” Jacaerys glares.

You look over your shoulder with a cool expression, “I don’t have anything to say, what makes you think that?” It’s agitating having to explain yourself to him of all people.

“Because you look like you have something to say, so say it!” It’s comical the way his cheeks and entire face glow red from anger.

You slowly turned to Jacaerys with folded hands placed politely over your front (as the Septa and your mother taught you), “I was merely talking about how Strong the two of you were out here.”

This immediately draws the attention of Ser Harwin. His face easily betrays his emotions but you simply smile at the commander, “It’s a good thing they have the city watch commander to guide them, isn’t it?”

Challenging little cunt you were, Harwin forces a tight smile, “Indeed, princess.”

He doesn’t get to stay much longer as the guards begin pushing him in the direction of the castle, away from his two Strong boys. You were going to wipe the smug face off that bastard–

Aegon shoves Jacaerys first into the dirt, sending the poor boy flying back as Lucerys panics calling out for him. Lucerys charges with a wooden stick in hand, his face twisted in anger and fear as he swings for Aegon, “Let my brother go!”

You scoff and stick your foot out, tripping the boy as you swiftly place a foot over his back pressing down, “Dohaerās!”

You put more pressure with each passing second he squirmed and cried. “Get off of him!” Jacaerys shoves Aegon off and runs at you, pushing past Aemond knocking him down too in the process.

You turn in time to see a head full of dark curls charging, your father yelling for everyone to put an end to this nonsense. “Or what? You’re going to run to mommy and tell her what I said?”

He stops dead in his tracks when you stalk towards him with a predatory look in your eye, “What’s wrong? Not strong now are you?” You shove him harder, causing him to stumble over the wooden sword, “Better yet, why don’t you call for your father to come save you?”

Harwin stills by the doors and the entire yard grows silent. Jacaerys clenches his fists tightly, “Ser Laenor isn’t here.” He grits.

You lean closer, eyes meeting Ser Harwin’s over Jacaerys’ shoulder, “Is he?”

The ‘Velaryon’ stiffens and you can’t hide your grin, “I was merely joking, relax.” You finish softly pulling away.

Aemond is there holding his elbow out for you to take, the two of you (Aegon included) disappear into the castle passing by the commander. Aemond himself shoots Harwin a look before uttering loud and clear:

“Bastards.” No one corrects him.

You remember the outrage you and your brothers caused with Rhaenyra. She demanded justice—especially towards you after learning you pushed her Luke to the ground and commanded him like an animal. She pushed for a harsh punishment, hell-bent on it.

Alicent, who usually was spoken over by her husband and every other man in her life, for once refused. Your mother made sure of it that no one, not even the king, was to touch or harm you, fiercely defending you against your half-sister.

‘Over words? You wish to have my daughter flogged over an insult?’

Needless to say your mother had the last say after some unsavory words and threats were exchanged in the council room. As Rhaenyra passed you met her eyes briefly before Alicent covered you with her own body.

They left like dogs with their tails tucked between their legs. You, Aegon, and Aemond stood over a balcony watching the ships sail and dragons pass overhead. It was as if they were never there to begin with.

It wasn’t always unpleasant you suppose but with age you slowly begin caring and thinking less and less about those Strong boys.

༺ ──────────── ༻

“There’s to be a petition in court.” Your mother solemnly mumbles from her place by the open windows, she’s in one of her moods again and you wish no part of it. Was it Aegon who went and managed to piss her off for the umpteenth time?

You barely look up from the embroidery you’re working on (it’s a beetle for Helaena who has been feeling blue these days), “A petition for what?”

Alicent turns to you with a melancholic look on her face, she’s smiling but it falls short and her somber mood once again returns. “Nothing of importance my sweetling.” She lifts her skirts to take a seat beside you on the floor, “What are you working on?”

“A beetle, for Helaena.” As you’re showing her the doors to your rooms open and a handmaiden stands by with a soft ‘Prince Aemond, your grace,’

“Mother, y/n.” Aemond greets as he takes a seat in the chair next to you, leg crossed over his other. “For Helaena?” He murmurs, leaning down to get a better look.

You speak amongst quiet whispers while Alicent watches, content to see her two children together. “Mother, the petition does it have anything to do with Rhaenyra and her sons?”

Aemond, who had taken the embroidery to try for himself, stops in his tracks. Alicent feared she wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret, especially not with you two being so perceptive all the time. Her prolonged silence was enough answer anyway.

“Yes,” she finally relents, “Lord Corlys’ younger brother wishes to challenge Lucerys’ claim for Driftwood.”

Her tone is hesitant and careful, she looks at Aemond when she says his name. She’s treading carefully with her third born knowing he was particularly sensitive when he got angry.

“By extension the rest of her I presume?” You reach for a lemon cake mumbling to Aemond (‘Share one with me… I said to split it, not have it all.’—‘I did.’)

With the king bed-ridden nearing death and his first born off at Dragonstone, there was no need to hold your tongue. “Her claim will be questioned, as will her first born and second,” Aemond adds.

“I worry sometimes,” Alicent finally says, silence following, “for you, Helaena, Aegon—the children.” You know exactly what she means to tell.

“I do believe Helaena has been in need of some company. You may leave me, I have Aemond.” You reach for her hands and gently squeeze, “I will catch up with you two, yes?”

Alicent studies your face in worry before settling on brushing a few stray hairs out of your face, “Alright, I will see you.” She lays a gentle kiss over your head and rises to her feet.

Once the doors slam shut you finally release the sigh you’ve held in through the entire conversation with half a mind to ask for a bath to soothe your oncoming headache. “Seems our dear nephews will be arriving on the morrow.” He comments.

“Hm, seems so.” You’re not entirely sure how you feel, are you supposed to feel anything?

Things were different now you suppose, your hatred died down over the years without their insulting presence. You didn’t like them either, merely tolerated the idea of them.

Then there was the great Jacaerys Velaryon, future of the realm and heir to the throne, the same boy who plagued your dreams and memories all these years.

And he was to be here tomorrow, the first since Lady Laena’s funeral (which you had believed to be the last time you would ever have to see him).

“You’re free to speak plainly sister, we’re in private, we don't have to keep pretending.” Aemond mutters, head lolling in your direction as he stares at you.

You tilt your head, “And what would you have me say? That I’m looking forward to their little visit?”

“What excuse will it be this time? I don’t think she can easily sway the people with the evidence right there in plain sight,” he hums.

The more you think about her and her children coming here into your home tainting it all over again—you grow furious.

“Help me up will you? I think I’ll take a bath and meet you with mother.” You hope it will be enough to curb your anger for now.

Aemond holds you upright and levels you with a stare, “Something’s bothering you.”

“Well, yes–”

“Not them.” Aemond replies quietly and for a second you still.

You gently stroke the side of his face, watching as Aemond leans into your touch with a closed eye, “I’m fine,” you murmur, “now go.”

Luckily Aemond’s just as sweet on you and Helaena as he is stubborn and observant. He lets it go (thankfully) and you’re left alone to think about tomorrow. You could easily feign sickness or escape to the Sept (you were due for a prayer anyways) but mother would never let you as much as she would like to—your grandsire’s word evidently still strong over her.

You soak in the boiling hot tub, enjoying the steam delicate scents from the oils you regularly use. “That’s a problem for another day,” you find yourself murmuring to no one in particular as you sink further into the tub, eyes slipping shut.

༺ ──────────── ༻

You had done your best to carry on with your duties the following morning.

Nearly an hour had passed since you sat around staring at your reflection instead of allowing the handmaids to dress you. By this hour you’d be with your mother and Helaena in the gardens. Your absence however prompts the queen to come searching.

“What’s wrong?” Alicent whispers sitting beside you on the bed with worry etched on her brow as she gently moves your hair from your shoulder, “y/n?”

You place your hand over hers, “Braid my hair, like when I was child?” You hold the brush out for her to take.

She has you sit on the floor in front of her, gently combing the hair brush through your soft locks handling each strand of hair with care. The two of you fall into comfortable silence (save for her soft humming). All of your frustrations quickly lift off your shoulders the more you sink into her gentle caring touch.

“The dress is beautiful, when did you have this tailored?” Alicent comments softly, it was no secret to anyone that she saw herself in her youngest daughter—dutiful, composed, a good daughter.

The only difference was you had freedom she never did. While she had been made a child bride by her own father, you remained an unwed maiden at the age of twenty by choice. Alicent didn’t push for proposals and Otto knew better than to try and meddle with you like he had with Aegon and Helaena.

(‘Aemond had it made for me, Helaena has one in blue.’—‘The fabric, I don’t believe we have that around here do we?’) Your doors open and your drunken (maybe hungover) brother comes stumbling gracelessly.

“Well don’t you look darling.” He comments under his breath and saunters over to where you sit, falling flat on his back with his head in your lap.

“Aegon.” Alicent warns as she starts on another braid.

You look down and flick his forehead, “You smell of wine, and you're going to dirty my dress.” Despite the annoyance you still comb your fingers through his hair affectionately.

Aegon snorts unceremoniously, “Is it a crime to visit my sister now? My very beautiful sister—do say, when are you going to choose a husband? You’re past the age, and well nearly every lord in the realm’s been asking for your hand.” He smirks slyly knowing very well the topic of marriage angered the shit out of you.

“Aegon that’s enough, stop pestering your sister.” Alicent sighs heavily.

Your eyes flick over to the wine pitcher in your maid’s hands, the threat clear. A harmless grin forms on his face, one you can’t help but mirror teasingly as the two of you settle in silence as to not disturb your mother with children’s banter. You left that for your niece and nephew to do.

“There,” Alicent shows you through the mirror, “do you like it?”

“I love it, thank you.” You leaned back to lay in her lap.

Normally she would frown at receiving such affections but because it was you she held her tongue, never truly bothered by any of it. She allows it for a little longer before gently patting your shoulder.

“I must go and see to it that preparations for our guests are going well my sweetlings. I will see you in court later.” She departs hastily.

“Have you eaten?” You ask Aegon, who shakes his head as you rise to your feet together, “I haven’t either.”

Rhaenys and her granddaughter are the first to arrive on dragonback, and then your dear half-sister with her entourage of children and Daemon.

‘Ha, so they really did it,’ Lady Laena hadn’t been dead for a week and these two had already frolicked around (the night at Driftmark, you’re sure the two figures on the beach were them).

No one had been there to receive them—you certainly didn’t bother, you doubt any of your siblings would. You’re outside in the yard watching Criston Cole train with Aemond again, your brother much more swifter than the knight in comparison to when he was a child.

There’s a proud smile on your lips when Aemond emerges victorious, looking your way with a grin. “Come to watch me?” He tilts his head.

“What does it seem like?” You muse softly after seeing that Aemond has garnered attention from other knights and maids, making a spectacle of his sparring in a outstandish way.

“It seems you want to spar with me,” he smirks.

“Daor.”

Aemond snorts, “Fine,” he picks his sword back up and points it to Cole, “again, I wish to win this next round in my sister’s honor.”

A handmaid is quick to bring you a chair, the sound of swords colliding once again filling the yard. Aemond’s eager to prove he’s surpassed Ser Criston and judging by the small crowd forming he’s eating the attention right up. You hear distant murmurs and whispers but pay no mind, it must’ve been the women from court again who didn’t know how to keep their mouths shut.

“Just look at their hair..” One of them says.

Everyone knows, father, just look at them..

“Princess? Are you alright, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” you hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath in shock and anticipation the entire time.

The swords have stopped and everything goes still, Aemond stands with the tip of his blade pointed in your direction—not at you, but behind you. He had that crazed look in his eye again. You share a look and rise from your seat slowly.

“Nephews, have you come to train?” Your brother’s tone is cold with bitter hate.

Jacaerys stands dumbfounded and unable to form a response, you watch his (soft, plump) lips part but not a single sound comes.

“Nephews.” You quietly say with the tiniest of nods, “It’s been long hasn’t it? I take it the trip over was comfortable, was it not?”

Neither Lucerys nor Jacaerys answer at first with the younger curly-headed boy awkwardly muttering his response, very unbefitting of the next Lord of the Tides.

You barely spare him a look as you turn to Jacaerys, “Would you like me to show you your rooms? I’m sure they’ve been prepared already.”

“..We would appreciate it,” he finally replies, his voice no longer squeaky and high—rather low and suave, “seeing as there was no one to properly welcome us earlier.” His snarky response makes your skin crawl and your temper flare, but for appearances you reel yourself in.

“Apologies, nephews—it’s been a rather exhausting day preparing for the guests.” You force a polite smile.

He fixes you with a dark stare, his gaze dropping from your lips and then back up, “Mm.”

“Follow me,” you hum disappearing into the castle with the two Velaryon boys following close.

Neither one of you made an attempt to speak. What was there to talk about, they were practically strangers and you doubted Lucerys would’ve enjoyed recounting the last time the three of you had the pleasure of sharing the same roof. Jacaerys on the other hand must’ve believed you to be a fool if he thought you hadn't noticed him looking.

Annoyance runs hot through your veins as you finally reach the wing where their rooms sat, “I hope everything is to your liking, don’t hesitate to ask if you need something.”

‘Thank you.’ You hear Lucerys mumble but Jacaerys offers nothing but his heavy stare. “I’ll see you later,” your voice is soft and silky but the lingering (wanton) look you give speaks in volumes.

“Later.” You hear him faintly reply once you’re out of earshot, you can’t help the tiny smirk on your lips.

༺ ──────────── ༻

Court was as you expected—boring and another waste.

You stood by sweet Helaena, who was equally bored, listening as the second son of Driftmark cried over being replaced by a child. A bastard no less, you could only imagine the embarrassment he must have went through—or rather going through because it didn’t seem like he’d be getting a rest from it anytime soon.

During his speech you made eye contact a few times with Jacaerys. You don’t know why it felt natural, like gravity pulled your gaze to him over and over. When you would look he was already watching with the same hunger from before.

The whole fiasco ended in total failure because Vaemond’s killed leaving no challenger. You’re not surprised things worked out in Rhaenyra’s favor after your father wobbled his way to the throne and then had to be carried out because he overexerted himself.

Aemond shields both you and Helaena from the dead body lying on the floor, “That’s enough for today, you’re all dismissed. Someone dispose of the body.” Otto barks through the mess caused by Daemon.

You manage to sneak a last look before being ushered out by your mother and brothers. The walk back quiet and awkward, what was there to say?

“That was..something.” Aegon finally breaks the tense silence.

Your mother doesn’t reply and Aemond snorts, “It was another mess that’s what it was.” You murmur loud enough for them to hear, “Like always, they make a spectacle of themselves and father comes to save the day.”

“Should’ve known father would do that.” Aemond adds in, and it’s true.

You already knew the petition against Rhaenyra’s children of all people would be useless. It was as if the king had a sixth sense when it came to Rhaenyra. Funnily, he was sick enough to be bedridden these past years but well enough to come defend his first born one final time.

“Helaena, why don’t we take the children to the gardens? I’m sure we could both use some fresh air.” You find yourself asking, desperate to forget.

You end up spending the afternoon with Helaena in the gardens talking about everything and nothing. It was always a relaxing affair when it came to your sister and her children. You liked lounging around and watching the twins with a lazy eye. It felt nice having this small escape, kept you from ripping your own hair out over the family drama.

You’re in the middle of playing with Jaehaerys when your mother’s sworn shield interrupts, “Forgive me princesses but your mother has sent me to escort you to tonight's dinner with the king, he has requested all his children be present.”

Helaena’s smile fades and your mood is spoiled for the day, of course the king would pull a stunt like this.

“Hel.” You put a tentative hand on her shoulder, relieved she merely relaxes under your touch. The two of you hesitantly part from the children after promising sweets and more playtime.

Everyone’s barely arriving with your seat being between Aemond’s and grandsire. Aemond looks disinterested (as does everyone else) but you try to put up a farce for the dying old man being carried in. It was possibly his last dinner, might as well make it a memorable one you suppose.

No one wants to speak, Aegon’s got his hands cupped in front of him in exasperation like he’s itching to reach for his wine goblet. Helaena is mumbling to herself mostly and Rhaenyra’s other children stare at their plates.

“Father,” all eyes are on you, “forgive me as I know it was your wish for us to dine together but I’m feeling unwell and would like to rest if I may..” You trail off softly placing your hands on the table, ready to flee.

Jacaerys is still looking down at his plate with a deathly tight grip on his fork. The old croak waves his hand dismissively, smiling painfully, “Yes, go on that’s fine.” He offers a gentle nod at most, you don’t think he even remembers your name.

“Thank you, if you’ll excuse me.” You bow politely,

quickly moving for the exit without a spare glance.

You hear another voice but you can’t make out what they said other than the sound of a chair being pushed out. Something was telling you it was your Strong boy and the thought brings a mischievous smirk to your face as you look over at your sworn shield.

“Leave me, I’ll retire to my rooms alone; you’re dismissed.” You calmly begin walking away.

“But Princess—”

“Go Ser, I will be fine.” You leave no room for argument and hear him reluctantly let out a sigh before heading in the opposite direction.

With the guard handled you find your way through the halls humming in high valyrian until you reach your destination: the king’s council room. It’s dimly lit inside by candles, the windows are open with sounds of small folk singing and dancing heard below.

The slightest creak has you looking to the side without turning your head, “Unwell you said, you must like lying a lot..” He trails off in amusement as he plays with an ornament nearby.

“And what have I lied about nephew? Enlighten me.” You reply softly.

There’s no denying the thrill you’re getting out of this, Jacaerys was bold for following you like this, in a room all alone with no guards around. The secrecy excited you because if anyone were to find you two together—oh they’d think the worst.

An unwed maiden and the prince bastard of Dragonstone.

“You’re acting dense on purpose, putting up a farce—tell me does it make you feel better? Your words, actions—they’re insulting. I don’t think for a moment you’ve had a change of heart.” He scowls, stopping short of the king’s chair.

You spin around to face him with your hands behind your back, “Whatever do you mean?” You can’t help but bat your doe eyes.

Jacaerys hesitates for a second, “You know what I mean, do you take me for a fool.” He says low and threatening, ever so guarded with you.

“Hmm, I’m afraid I don’t know and if you’re just going to keep repeating yourself the door is right there.” You enjoy the look of anger on his face and part your lips to speak once more when he stops you with a hand on your forearm.

The touch is hot, scorching even as you feel the rush of arousal and excitement hit you all at once. No one has ever grabbed you this roughly, or been in the same proximity long enough to keep their head (you had your own way of dealing with unwanted advances).

Yet, Jacaerys still has his hand.

The audacity. “Let go you—” You move to slap him but he grabs your wrist just short of connecting to his face.

“You what? Go on, say it,” he eerily whispers as his hot breath fans over your lips.

Your calm demeanor slips and eyes narrow in anger, “You fucking bastard—unhand me right now!” Your yells are muffled when he seals his lips over yours.

You violently flinch backwards, the kiss bruising as you try pushing him off. In response he merely tightens his hold reminding you he was much stronger than the brat he used to be. Where you move he moves and if you take a step back he takes one forward. Jacaerys slips his hand through your hair and tightly grips, yanking you forward to keep you in place whenever you squirm too much for his liking.

You somehow manage to sneak a hand below your skirts for a dagger you kept and without hesitating bring it up intending to puncture his side. He sees and quickly seizes your wrist, squeezing tight as the blade slips and lands with a clank on the ground.

“I can see the way you look at me,” he whispers all breathless and breathy, “and it kills you to know you want a bastard like me doesn’t it—I wonder if you picture the same things I do,” he briefly pauses as his eyes trail over your swollen lips.

He crowds you into the table with a hand dropping to your hip, “It’s only you and I,” his lips connect with your ear trailing downwards, “you don’t have to pretend; all you have to do is let go.”

Your spine involuntarily arches from his electrifying touch with goosebumps erupting all over. You can’t help the soft gasp when he tugs you towards him by the hip. The very large bulge in his slacks presses stubbornly into your pelvis, hot and throbbing.

“Jacaerys we can’t,” you begin quietly.

“We can’t or you won’t?” He questions dismissively like he doesn’t believe you.

Your lips part and a shaky sigh escapes when he begins leaving open mouthed kisses over your collarbone and shoulders. You pray he doesn’t leave any marks to the naked eye as you’d hate to have to explain the marks on top of your request for moon tea.

“I can’t.” You hope he’d reconsider but to your utter horror Jacaerys sucks harshly over the soft skin of your chest where your tits sit perfectly cupped and pushed together in your dress.

You cry out from the surprise and sensitivity as your hands came up to grip his shoulders tightly. He gives your other tit the same treatment before dropping to his knees with the same lustful look in his eye from earlier.

“Tell me you want this as much as I do,” he pleads as if he desperately needed to hear it from your lips.

“I..” Do you really want him as much as he believes you do? The very thought of him defiling and tainting your purity caused a dark swirl of emotions within you—you want all of him.

Jacaerys licks his lips hungrily and pushes up your skirts until he’s settled in front of your soft thighs. His hot breath fans over them as he inches closer until he’s eye level with your moistened, throbbing cunt.

“..Yes,” you find yourself whispering after a few moments.

A pleased rumble leaves him and he closes the distance between him and your aching cunt. The first stroke of his hot tongue over your sticky folds has you keening in pleasure and your eyes rolling shut, head thrown back. You can’t help your lewd moan—all high and breathy.

Jacaerys works his tongue over your throbbing clit in firm strokes, hands greedily feeling every inch of your smooth skin. You choke when he throws one of your thighs over his shoulder, the angle shattering as he gains more access to your soft virginal pussy; ripe for the taking.

His lips part over it and he takes your aching bud into his mouth, vigorously sucking and lapping. “Jacaerys–” You choke out as his fingers tread over your folds dipping in to press against your soppy hole, the digits gliding rather easily aided by your dripping wetness.

His middle finger slips through—poking and prodding—until he breaches and pushes past the resisting barrier. There’s a sharp whine as your cunt flutters, greedily swallowing up his fingers, “Mmn..”

You notice how he gets when he hears you make those filthy little noises, the flick of his tongue sharp and his grip growing just a bit tighter. You can’t help eagerly rolling your hips on his face, shuddering as your bare cunt slides over his hot mouth and the tip of his nose dips between your folds brushing over your clit.

“Oh gods,” you gasp breathlessly, hips baring down faster and your grip on the table getting tighter.

There’s a filthy moan below your skirts, the vibrations against your pussy have you mewling needily. With little strength you manage to smother your cunt over his face again until he decides to stop teasing and seals his mouth over your throbbing clit once again.

You whimper out a garbled version of his name as the pleasure simmers hot in your lower belly. Your release hurdles towards you fast, almost knocking the breath out of you from how intense.

“Fuck Jacaerys..!” You gasp as the coil finally snaps; leaving you with legs spread wide and hips angled down with your clit in his mouth and his fingers curled up inside you.

You’re blinded by the hot white pleasure and the slick dribbling down your thighs (to which he greedily licks it up with loud unabashed slurps and moans). You shakily push his head away from your sore spent pussy, whining when he lands one last lick over your throbbing clit before letting up.

Jacaerys stands before you in a disheveled state with his swollen, glossed over lips. His tunic’s slightly rumpled and hair clearly out of place from being buried under your skirts for so long.

“Jacaerys,” you quietly start but he quickly silences you with another kiss, this one sweeter than the last.

You can’t help your sigh leaning into his touch, he treats you much more delicately than his harsh bruising kisses from before. He handles you like you’re meant to be—gentle, pampering, soft. The sentiment leaves you eager but disappointingly he pulls away and just..leaves? If you hadn’t been so out of breath you’d call out to him.

You lay your hand over your chest shuddering at the cool sensation of drying slick between your thighs. A rational side of you argues it’s for the best things ended before escalating but another wants to seek him out.

“Princess?” You hear one of your ladies in waiting from the other side of the door.

You shove your skirts down and fix your hair in an attempt to look modest. “Princess,” her face relaxes and she approaches you with open arms, “your mother sent me, are you still feeling unwell?”

“I’m fine, I’d like to have a bath now,” you take her arm biting your inner cheek to fight the fierce heat blossoming over them from embarrassment, “you shall speak nothing of this to my mother, yes?”

“Yes, my lady.”

No one comments on your troubled look while they bathed and dressed you. They knew better than to poke at the dragon; especially one that was upset.

You’re dressed in a white dainty dress you’d gotten as a gift from Aegon (though you suspected he had other intentions when he gifted it to you). You’re left sitting prettily over soft comforters and cushions, skin still smelling like rich oils and softer than a fox's fur.

“That will be all, thank you.” You bid your ladies good night and see them out just as your sworn shield takes his place in front of your chambers.

༺ ──────────── ༻

Sleep does not come as quickly as you had hoped. You’ve lost count of the hour, too entranced by the crackling firewood and waves hitting the cliffs. The candles have long died out and the moonlight took its place as your source of lighting.

You were tempted to escape to Helaena’s room using the secret tunnels but your sister could either be with Aegon or asleep. Your mother was out of question as she would chastise you about how unbecoming it is of a lady to be sneaking around during the hour of the owl.

(You’d never hear the end of it you’re afraid.)

As you roll over onto your stomach your breath hitches when the soft material glides against your swollen cunt. You quietly hiss and rub your thighs to ease the tension but it only worsens. Your clit pulses wildly, simmering heat boiling in your belly.

“Fuck.” You mutter rolling onto your back with your knees knocked apart, Jacaerys had really done a number on you.

You swallowed harshly thinking about his thick fingers and how your pussy was stretched to the brim. Your cunt flutters as you gasp softly, gods how you wanted to finish what he started earlier in the council room.

Would he lay you down tenderly and fuck you sweet or would he have you like one of those women from the streets of silk? Like a whore bent over and mounted like a bitch where he’d fuck years of hate and anger into you. Anger for what you had done and said about him and his brothers.

The thought does not bother you in the slightest, rather you’re aroused. You don’t have to pretend; all you have to do is let go..

You set your pride aside and slip into slippers sneaking into the secret tunnels. You walk with haste recalling where every room was after Aegon first showed you and Aemond the tunnels. You stand before his door waiting anxiously after giving three hard knocks.

The tunnel floods with light and Jacaerys stands over you, his own body casting a shadow. You stare up at him with parted lips and a dreamy glaze in your eyes. He doesn’t hesitate to bring you closer until your cheek is pressed against his chest.

“Jace,” your voice is nothing more than a whisper yet the grip you have on his robes says otherwise.

He hauls you into his arms leaving you no time to gasp before he’s pinning you onto the silken sheets. He stares down at you intensely, his grip around your wrists tight and secure. Both arms encase you on either side of your head leaving you to marvel up at the Strong Velaryon boy.

Jacaerys says nothing when he tugs his own tunic and robes off with one hand. Each article of clothing falls one by one onto the ground, the bed creaking in protest under his weight as he comes to kneel over you once again.

Throughout this whole ordeal you’ve held intense eye-contact with him, a challenge you most certainly welcomed as he still possessed those flames of desire and anger from before. With a clenched jaw he brings both your wrists to one hand and reaches below with his free to grasp his hard cock.

You can’t help but look, having to bite down on your tongue to hold in the whine that threatened to escape. The weeping head dripped pearly white seed over your soft mound from where he stroked himself. The pulsing heat between your thighs quickly becoming unbearable.

He lowers his hips until his pelvis is smushed into yours, his hard dripping cock trapped between the two of you pressed into your inner thigh. The contact is scalding with the way it throbs, how you yearn for him to take it and fuck you silly with it.

“Jacaerys,” you quietly choke, voice raspy and thick with want & need.

“This will hurt.” He carefully gauges your reaction for any discomfort or hesitance.

“Show me then, my lord Strong. Claim me as you would if I were yours, your ‘plain’ appearance is not of importance to me sweet nephew,” you purr sweetly, “we share blood of the dragon, you and I..”

You decide he needs one last push.

“Imagine a babe just like us…he wouldn’t look like a bastard, no,” his nose flares and grip tightens, “but everyone will know when they see his strong curls—”

A cry spills from your lips as Jacaerys slams his cock into you, buried to the hilt where his soft balls meet your pert cheeks. The pain burns but it’s laced with pleasure in a bittersweet way, still you can’t help the soft hisses that slip through clenched teeth each time he shifts around.

You struggle to house all of him inside, what he lacks in length he makes up for in girth; fat and thick with swollen pussy lips stretched around him wrapped tight and snug. To your utter surprise however, he’s not upset at your small jab—he looks as if he were actually picturing a child with you.

“And yet you still lie beneath me, speared on a bastard’s cock,” he grunts.

Jacaerys rolls his hips, not giving you any time to adjust, “You’ll bear my children fearing they won’t come out like their father—brown hair,” thrust, “brown eyes,” thrust, “every bit of me.” He whispers low and menacing in your ear, his speed relentless and punishing.

The stinging pleasure worsens and your eyes water, it’s a sort of bone deep pleasure balanced out by the pain that was beginning to dull. You were powerless under the Velaryon Prince as you could only helplessly toss your head back from the sweet pain.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you? To have my bastards?” He licks his lips and switches his pace to a more smoother one, still jabbing nonetheless but albeit more calmer.

You grit your teeth in refusal to answer, but he didn’t need your answer as he descended upon your lips hungrily and fucked into you faster. Your moans get swallowed up by both him and the slick accompanying his wet thrusts causing you to burn with embarrassment over your filthy coupling.

Your traitorous gaze drops downwards again, the sight leaving you in breathless awe. He has specks of blood smeared against his skin, his cock faring no better as it’s covered in creamy pink. You experimentally squeeze around him just to watch his mouth drop open in a small ‘o’ shuddering through the pleasure.

“Again,” he groans softly, “fuck, more.” He gasps while desperately grinding into you.

You wrap your shaking thighs around his waist and tug him closer until he’s trapped against you unable to pull out. He huffs and kisses your sweaty skin, his hips tilting to bump and grind into that sensitive spot from before.

“Oh Jacaerys,” your back arches and toes curl.

Throaty little moans spill from his lips over each rhythmic squeeze around his swollen cock. He fucks into that soft sticky heat just listening to the filthy wet sounds your cunt makes. He enjoys the soft thwacks of his balls slapping against your taint, splattering creamy slick over the sheets.

“Oh,” you shudder, peak hitting harder than ever

You feel the warmth and utter bliss/satisfaction when you come down from your high. Dollops of wet slick spill from the sides of your stuffed pussy, a phantom pulsing sensation most likely from the aftermath of your orgasm.

“Fuck, I’m gonna–” He bites back his needy moan, pressing deeply to ensure every drop gets buried in your cunt. It seemed like you were going to pay a visit to the maestar soon for moon tea.

However you were far more concerned about your ability to walk, you could barely even feel the space between your legs much less your cunt and knees.

༺ ──────────── ༻

Peace never really lasts long in the Red Keep, not with the never ending feud between both your families.

From what you heard, shortly after Jacaerys left you the first time he joined dinner again only to find himself punching Aemond while Aegon slammed Lucerys into his plate. Aemond had done it again with his taunts over your nephew’s legitimacy.

Rhaenyra was leaving again after those years gone, which meant Jacaerys would be gone too. You hadn’t voiced your displeasure nor let it show when the boys were seen off to their dragons at the pit. You hid by a column, peeking out watching them saddle up for their journey home.

Jacaerys doesn’t notice you at first but when he does he stops and his gaze softens with pity. “Aunt.” He greets striding over with his arms behind his back.

“Jacaerys.” You greet quietly, refusing to meet his eyes in a stubborn act of defiance.

He tilts your chin up gently and forces you to look, “This doesn’t have to be the end you know,” he brushes a stray hair from your face, “unless you want to stop?”

“I don’t,” you find yourself snapping quicker than he can finish which makes him smile, “you know I don’t. I just don’t see how it’s possible to continue..this, if you’re so far away on Dragonstone.” You mumble and cup his cheek.

Jacaerys leans into your touch with a hum, “I’m a dragon ride away my love,” your cheeks burn at the endearment, “I’ll send ravens if I have to—you don’t need to worry about a single thing.”

You gently peck his lips and sigh, “..If you don't write to me, I will..” You trail in high valyrian whilst squeezing his hand until it pops threateningly. He laughs low and brings your hand up to kiss, instantly quelling your temper.

“I swear it,” he replies, kissing your knuckles once more despite Luke calling out to him in the background, his dragon calling out for him.

You allow a soft smile as you whisper ‘go’, no doubt your mother would be looking for you as well. You watch him leave your side once again only this time you knew he’d be returning sometime soon as the king neared the hour of death.

No one knew of your little letters you exchanged with Jacaerys over the course of weeks. He would send you flowers and other things he’d find around Dragonstone while you sent perfumed handkerchiefs or oil scented letters.

You knew he particularly loved when the paper smelled like you. (You’d be rewarded with vulgar responses.)

‘My beloved, everything reminds me of you and how you might enjoy this if you were here. I’d give anything to have you here by my side dressed in Targaryen colors. I personally think red suits you best my love, don’t you think? I’ll have a dress tailored to fit in all the right places, perhaps we can arrange a slit for easy access? You’d enjoy that wouldn’t you?’

If your mother noticed your odd behavior, she didn’t comment. Alicent knew very well what a lovestruck girl looked like as she had been one herself not too long ago. No one comments on the frequent visits to the dragon pit where you’d disappear for hours on end returning once the moon had risen.

The illusion shatters however when Viserys dies.

Right away your mother and grandsire crown Aegon as king. You should feel indifferent about the throne but you can’t help the ugly feeling you get upon seeing Aegon the conqueror's crown over your brother’s head. He was no king. He was not made to be king.

War was coming. With Aegon usurping Rhaenyra, as if that wasn’t enough, Aemond goes and fucking kills your nephew in some petty child’s game.

You heard the boy sunk into the waters after Vhagar mauled his tinier dragon. When you were flying over you heard Vermax’s loud cries of anguish, no doubt feeling his riders emotions as Jacaerys mourned Lucerys.

Your own dragon cried out in return as you swiftly landed and hopped off, stumbling through the sand as Jacaerys quickened his pace. You meet each other halfway with him falling into your arms, brokenly sobbing.

His loud cries are drowned out by the harsh waves hitting shore and seagulls flying around. At that very moment it’s only you and him standing on that beach wrapped up in each other’s arms. You press a series of kisses against his temple, tightening your hold when you feel him tremble.

“Shh.. sh, my love. I’m here.” You murmur soothingly.

Jacaerys swallows harshly, “He…he killed him,” he croaks out, “he’s gone.” It physically hurts seeing him unable to speak, just choking up over his words like a little boy crying for his mother.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

You hold him until he grows tired of sobbing, resorting to softer sniffles as he cowers in your hold. Jacaerys has a death grip around your waist where his fingers dig into you unknowingly. “I can’t lose you.” He mutters.

You will never forget the haunting look in his eye. Jacaerys had already lost his brother, he would not be losing you either..

༺ ──────────── ༻

..A son for a son they said after the ratcatchers beheaded Jaehaerys in his sleep.

You were up for days unable to process the grief and horror, moreso you felt for Helaena (beautiful Helaena who hadn’t deserved any of this). The way your mother had allowed the death of a child—her own blood—to be handled was despicable.

You saw Otto Hightower for what he was: a power hungry cunt. Your own brothers were strangers to you, Aemond having killed his own nephew in cold blood and Aegon a bloodthirsty idiot who didn’t know what he was doing.

You understand why Viserys favored Rhaenyra now.

“He’s a fool, mother was right to tell him he would be more useful doing nothing,” you sharply reply.

You’re in Jacaerys’ room after a sneaky endeavor in his bed all afternoon, complaining about your stupid brothers. Your lover lays on his side with a hand supporting his head listening attentively with a loving gaze.

“What was it you said that he told Aemond—I can have to make a war?” Jacaerys snorts in amusement brushing his fingers through your hair.

“He’s an idiot. It’s a wonder anyone can actually stand being in the same room as him, if he’s not crying about Aemond making plans behind his back then he’s crying that no one respects him.” You shake your head.

“Hm, my mother still thinks we can avoid war,” he sighs deeply, “if only it were easy, right?” He slides your hand in his, holding it tightly while stroking over your knuckles with his thumb.

You can’t help but squeeze back, “Patience my love, everyone already sees how incompetent Aegon is. He’s already the usurper in their eyes and nobody really listens to him so to speak.”

“Suppose you're right about a few things.” Jacaerys’ gaze drops to your plush lips, still swollen and bitten-raw from his punishing little nips and aggressive kissing.

Your stomach swoops with excitement as a playful grin forms over your lips, “Only a few things?” You lean down to whisper, lips inches away from his.

He smiles lazily and cups your cheeks, “Of course not you know I trust your judgment, my love.” He mumbles soothingly while brushing over your loose curls.

He looks beautiful like this—the sheets hung low around his bare hips and the love bites littered across his shoulders and neck. You’d like to stay forever like this with him, all tangled up and the only sounds being your soft voices and the waves hitting the cliffs by his open window.

“Do you? Or is my prince only saying that because he desires a kiss?”

It’s comical the way Jacaerys lights up like a child faced with a fresh batch of lemon cakes. He eagerly slots his lips over yours and draws your naked body closer to him until his stirring cock is pressed flush against your hip—still coated in wet slick and oils from earlier.

You reach with one hand to tangle it through his soft curls, yanking his head back, “That isn’t an answer my love; does my prince want a kiss or not?” You ask firmer this time.

His eyes hollow darkly as he licks his lips, “May I? Your prince desires it.” He whispers low and breathy. When he says it like that you simply can’t deny as you eagerly press into him.

Jacaerys wraps his arms around your back and hauls you under him pinning you down against the soft sheets. You moan into his mouth reaching below to grasp his heavy cock in your soft palm and squeezing the head.

“Seems he desires more than a kiss,” you husk, tugging at his cock and enjoying the way he chases your touch.

“I want to claim every inch of you until you’re filled with my cum, maybe this time you will catch,” He finishes with a growl in high valyrian.

His cock slides between your sticky folds bumping and slipping against your clit. You angle the tip downward until it catches against your rim with a hitch, “Jace,” you sigh.

You feel every inch until he’s fed your cunt his cock. The stretch is mouthwateringly good, you don’t think you’ll ever find anyone else who could come this close to pleasuring as Jacaerys did. He wastes no time in rocking into you with long forceful thrusts.

“Oh fuck,” you thread your fingers through his hair turning your head away.

Jacaerys messily mouths along your neck and shoulder with muffled groans while desperately covering every inch of your skin with his mouth. You catch him off guard when you wrap your limbs around him and roll the two of you over.

“Lie back my love,” you seductively whisper.

He watches, entranced as you set your hands over his bare chest and push. The delicious weight combined with the heavenly warmth around his cock has his head rearing back and a long moan escaping.

You bite down on your lip taking in his every reaction. From this angle he strikes deep leaving you with a pleasant ache you’d be feeling the coming days. “Oh fuck.” You gasp, hips stuttering in their movements.

Jacaerys gets his hands over your hips and tugs you back down over his lap causing a groan to bubble out of your throat. He uses his newfound grip to bounce you in his lap until a low fopping sound from his thighs smacking into your cheeks fills the room.

Your gasps come out in short stuttered breaths with the occasional ‘mm’ thrown in there. Mid-roll you manage to firmly plant yourself in his lap trapping his fat cock in your wet cunt. You feel it twitching inside, desperate for another release.

Soft ‘ah, ah, ah’s fill the room alongside the sounds of sheets shuffling and seagulls in the distance. You’re lost in the moment basking in sunny rays and hot bubbling pleasure. His grip not once loosening nor slipping.

“Seven hells, you’re going to be the death of me.” He breathlessly groans.

His cock pulses faintly and then you’re being filled with thick spurts of white. He lazily squeezes your soft cheeks, watching with a blissed out expression. While you had yet to reach your own peak, you also didn’t mind just this.

Your hips came to a stop and you found yourself laying over his chest staring out at the orange-pink sky as you mumble, “I love you.”

༺ ──────────── ༻

Helaena hasn’t spoken much about your nephew since the funeral. She says she’s fine but you doubt that’s any true, you supposed she grieved differently. Helaena has always been a special case (in a positive light).

“Aegon left to battle,” you find yourself saying after an hour of silence, “Aemond too.”

Helaena can offer no insight as she kneels before her caged insects, speaking in soft whispers like she usually did, only this time her tone accompanied by her soft hums.

“How is Jaehaera?”

“..Fine.” More humming.

“And what have you embroidered as of lately–”

“You can go,” she softly interrupts, “everything is fine.” You’re stunned, maybe you overstepped and she wasn’t in need of visitors. That was fine, Helaena’s doing fine—

Your sister reaches over to grasp your hands tightly, staring into your eyes, “Everything will be fine. You must leave or else it will be too late,” a pained smile forms over her lips, “you will be one soon, and then two.”

“..what about you?” Your eyes watered, you dread the thought of leaving her here to suffer alone at the hands of Aegon.

Helaena lays a sweet kiss over your head, “There’s a storm coming, it makes flying harder.”

You wipe your tears and shakily nod, embracing her one last time before rushing through the hidden tunnels to your room. In a satchel you threw a few items of importance along with jewelry you doubt you’d need but something in your gut told you otherwise.

It’s easy to slip unnoticed through the tunnels and keep, the city proves much harder. You manage to pass through the small folk using alleys and hidden paths until you’re outside of the dragon pit. None of the dragon keepers question you and simply bring out Melaxes.

She senses your anxiety and begins to whine, “Shh, lykirī.” You’re quick to soothe her by leaning your forehead against her side.

When she calms down you guide her out of the pit, “Soves,” you murmur and Melaxes roars into the sky disappearing into the thick clouds.

You will be one soon, and then two.

Realization dawns: you haven’t bled for two moons now. Your hand immediately comes up to cover the swell of your stomach. Of course, what were you expecting?

You didn’t drink fucking moon tea and Jacaerys never cared to pull off. Your throat tightens up and tears spring to your eyes, “No,” you claw at your collar heaving.

Rook’s Rest. Rook’s Rest. Rook’s Rest. Your eyes widened—Larys Strong had heard talks of Princess Rhaenys and Prince Jacaerys going to battle together..

“Naejot!” You plunge forward until Melaxes zips above the sea, you pray to whatever god listening that Jacaerys is there safe and sound waiting for you.

You leave her not too far from the castle as you run up the hill towards the one place you knew he’d have to be. It’s a miracle no one notices Alicent Hightower’s youngest daughter storming through the halls until you reach Rhaenyra’s council room.

No one’s there.

“Oh fuck..” You whisper with a hand over your stomach, “No, no, no, no.” (There’s a loud ringing in your ear and it won’t stop.)

The tears come before you can even stop them as your vision quickly blurs. There’s something in your throat but it won’t come out no matter how much you heave and gag on your saliva.

“Mmn,” you whimper in discomfort and pain while curling away, refusing to believe Jacaerys was gone. You want your mother.

Your arm shakily shoots out to grab onto the stone for balance, “..please,” it comes out as a wheeze.

“y/n?” Was this a cruel dream? Jacaerys frowns and immediately starts walking to your side, “What’s wrong?”

He’s met with your lips and a tight crushing grip when you bury your fingers through his hair. You fiercely smother him in a desperate kiss which draws out a hiss from him when you bite his bottom lip.

“..We have to leave,” you mumble.

“Leave?” He frowns, “What do you mean?”

“Jacaerys, please trust me—we need to go,” you desperately plead.

Jacaerys shakes his head, “y/n you’re not making sense right now, leave where? And what of my mother? What of Baela, Rhaena, Joffrey? What of my duty as heir to the throne? You say it as if it’s so simple.”

“It doesn’t matter—”

“Why won’t you just tell me?!” He slams his hand over the table.

“I’m expecting a child,” you choke up, “and I don’t want my baby to die, Jacaerys. I want our baby to live.” You cry softly.

Jacaerys goes eerily still, silently watching you weep all you’ve held in until now. His eyes cast downward over the Targaryen pin on his tunic, glistening under the light shining proudly as a reminder of where he came from.

He says nothing and reaches up to unpin the dragon sigil resting over his shoulder. He reaches over to silently do the same with your own before neatly placing both over the table, releasing his sharp breath.

There’s no other way around this regardless if you stayed or not your child was in danger simply by living and breathing. The Greens would come after you, maybe Aemond would be the one to kill you or perhaps even Daemon. Your child would be dead either way as the king made it obvious how he felt about bastard children.

Jacaerys turns to you with a gentle but pained smile, and in that moment you knew what he chose. Your lip curls sadly and with an outstretched hand you accept him. He squeezes tightly like he’s afraid you’ll vanish into thin air.

“I love you.” He whispers, pressing his forehead to yours, his hand manages to sneak between the two of you to press into your stomach where your child would soon grow.

Neither one of you says anything while Jacaerys packs what he plans to take. He writes to Rhaenyra and leaves the letter in plain sight over his desk. It’s quiet but comforting as he leads you to Melaxes and Vermax.

When she finds the letter Rhaenyra weeps. She can’t find it in her to be upset with him and while yes you had been another insolent brat as a child; you were still her half-sister who was now carrying her grandchild.

“If we fly out now we might catch up to them.” Daemon seethes as he paces back and forth before the queen, “This is just absurd, has the boy officially gone mad? A Hightower cunt no less.” He scoffs.

“Leave them, they’ve made their choice and we will make ours.” Rhaenyra shoots a pointed look at anyone who dares protest. She knows she’s vulnerable now that she’s lost two heirs.

..and if she hears the small folk speaking of two dragon riders traveling across the narrow sea, months later after reclaiming Kings Landing; she turns a blind eye and prays.

+ translations:

dohaerās (serve)

daor (no)

lykirī (be calm)

soves (fly)

naejot (forward)

[themidnightcrimson]

malevolent ࿏ wm

summary: in which moving into a new house brings you horrors you never imagined.

words: 7.6k

warnings: forced breeding, strap-on, dubcon/noncon, demonic, horror, gore, top!wanda, evilmommydemoncockwanda4life

this is dark!fic for 18+ only. minors dni. read with discretion.

The day was cold and bleak. The air had a frostiness to it that manifested in a sheen of white over the long-dead grass that had yellowed at the passing of autumn. The leaves scattered around were no longer vibrant reds and oranges but rather dulled browns. The trees were barren—dark, crooked cracks in the grey skyline. You noticed a pack of buzzards eating at roadkill.

Death.

Christmas was just around the corner but, unlike everywhere else in the country, this town seemed to not be celebrating much. You’d noticed that the very first time you drove through—this sort of head-down feeling about the place that differed so much from what it looked like. The town itself was charming and cutesy with so many little shops and beautiful gathering spaces. It was colorful, too. But something about it seemed greyed, like a ghost town almost except the people were still there. They didn’t talk much, especially not to outsiders apparently. They only whispered to each other with concerned faces and low voices, like they were afraid something lingering around in the air would hear them. They held their children very close to them.

So it wasn’t exactly the neighborliness of Westview that attracted you to move there. The town felt like something very dark had happened in a place that otherwise was a great place to live.

To be quite honest, the housing market in that town had taken a sudden dip down in the past couple months. You didn’t understand the housing market and thought maybe people just didn’t like to buy houses in the winter, but there were a few neighborhood roads that had recent For Sale signs up in every yard. It’s like people were evacuating the town. Running from something.

There was a specific house, actually, that had taken a steep dip down in price. It was put up for sale a couple months ago for a shockingly low price. You were stunned when you found out there were no bids, no one who had showed interest since it’d been put up. It was a beautiful house, a perfect family home. Not that you had any family to put in it. It was just you, but you liked space.

And for a price that cheap? In a quiet town away from the city? You couldn’t pass up on it. You were anxious, anyways, to have somewhere to yourself. Crashing on your friend’s couch wasn’t exactly the most glamorous post-breakup living arrangements, but the apartment lease was in your ex’s name.

Now you stood, on this dreadful day, in front of that house. You couldn’t help but feel like the windows were eyes staring at you, measuring you the way you were measuring it. Evaluating, judging. Maybe your confidence was just shot from all you’d been through the past few months. You had a house now. It was time to make it into a home.

It didn’t so much seem like the dark energy of town had made its way into your house, but rather that the house was some sort of energy field pushing it out into the town. This was a strong assumption to make, but as soon as you walked into the front door, you could feel it. The air was thick with something more than just the dust of time. It was still. So still. You could feel the still air on your face like a thick cloud of smoke that wasn’t there. It was energy brimming all around you. It made your stomach turn.

You couldn’t lie and say that you didn’t feel this eerie energy when you viewed the house. You felt it from the very beginning, but you just needed somewhere, and this house was the only one in your budget.

Cursed, is what the local kids called it. It was cursed because of the family who lived there. When you questioned your real estate agent about it, she sort of brushed it off and said that they just disappeared, that whatever happened to them, happened outside of this home.

You were reluctant to believe that story, but you were a skeptic anyways. If a young family had been axe murdered here or something, it was still just wood and brick to you.

The first few days in the house were busy. The moving company was taking all your stuff from your ex’s apartment and moving it into your house, which meant you had to deal with her calling you and screaming that she definitely bought that chair even though you distinctly remembered ordering it for the living room. You hated having to speak with her, with all her narcissistic tendencies. As much as you mourned the relationship, you mourned how stupid you were for ever putting up with so much for so long.

The house apparently was built in the 50’s and hadn’t been touched since besides the usual renovations every decade or so, which you enjoyed. Older houses had so much more character, like the adorable little partition window between the living room and the kitchen. You opened and closed the little shutters, imagining what 50’s housewife used this for so many years.

So you didn’t have much time to dwell on that eerie energy in the house while the movers brought everything in, until they left. And it was just you and those walls.

Luckily you could focus on unpacking all the boxes stacked around. You did so dutifully, and since you really had nothing else to do, you finished pretty quickly. By the next day you were untaping the last box which was full of random childhood artifacts. Trying to think of where you could put these things that you wanted to keep but didn’t really want just lying around, you suddenly realized that this house had an attic. The agent had vaguely pointed to it previously but you had never went up there.

Going upstairs, you opened the attic ladder and carefully climbed up the rickety thing, instantly inhaling thick layers of dust as your head entered the dark attic. To your surprise, you saw a few boxes lying around.

“Huh,” you murmured with interest as you swatted away cobwebs, the floor dangerously creaking beneath you as you approached the boxes. Whoever took the previously family’s stuff out of the house must have forgotten about the attic, which you found strange. Were they in that much of a hurry to get in and out?

Crouching down, you wiped the thick layer of dust off the box. How much dust could have accumulated in a matter of months?

None of the boxes were taped, only folded shut. Was it wrong of you to look through their stuff, especially since they were basically considered dead? To be fair, the house was yours now, and you needed to put some stuff up here. So you opened the box and looked inside.

This one was full of different colors of fabric. A red fabric crown of some sort, green tights, a blue headband, a can of silver spray paint for hair. Halloween costumes? All of superhero-esque kind?

Opening another box, this time you find some sort of fake lobster. A doorknocker? There’s some baby stuff in there too—a book about the psychological effects of pregnancy, a crib mobile made of butterflies. You go through all this stuff, the usual family keepsakes that the mother was too sentimental to throw away, until you suddenly come across something starkly different.

A book, but a different kind of book. It’s at the bottom of the box, and it’s heavy. The front is dark and somewhat torn with strange inscriptions on it. Heaving it out of the box, it falls into your lap with a cloud of black dust. What the hell did a family have to do with this? It looked more like a Halloween decoration than anything.

Mindlessly flipping it open, you saw that the pages were full of language you did not understand. Markings, almost, like hieroglyphics. Symbols. You come across a page that has the only recognizable thing you see—the figure of a woman, hair flowing, seeming to levitate on the page. This page is much darker than the rest, and the corners more torn. Like whoever read this book always seemed to seek out this specific page.

A sudden popping noise that sounded like weight on a floorboard startled you, made the book fall (it felt more like it leaped) out of your hands. You turned around to see nothing but the dark empty attic.

It was much too creepy up there.

Leaving your box of childhood memories up there and deciding to swap it out for this strange dark book, you carefully climbed back down the ladder and closed it.

The air felt thicker than ever now. Vibrating. Like it had just woken up.

࿏

You were mostly settled. Things still felt weird in the house, even after you put up every decoration you owned, but you figured it would go away with time. You’d been living off takeout the whole two weeks, hence the pile of Chinese takeout boxes in the corner of the kitchen. Deciding to go shopping to have some real food in the house, you pulled on your jacket and stepped out into the bitingly cold air. There was even a harsh wind, too, that made your nose hurt. Hugging yourself, you walked down your driveway and noticed a woman standing in the yard of the house next to yours. It was one of the few houses still lived in on the street, and you hadn’t even seen your new neighbor until now.

It was a middle-aged woman checking her mailbox. You struggled internally to decide if you should say hi or not, knowing that being all alone in a strange town was probably not the best idea, but something told you to just keep walking. You almost made it to your car until suddenly you could see her head snap towards you out of the corner of your eye. Instinctively, you froze, looking across the yard at her and seeing that she squinted her eyes suspiciously at you.

“H-hello,” you weakly greeted, shivering from the cold.

“Who are you?” the woman called out loudly, turning her body fully towards you now as if she was braced to defend herself. Great, a crazy neighbor.

“I’m y/n. I just moved in.” You tried to give a smile as you pointed to the house.

Looking between you and the house, the woman hesitated before walking towards you. Wishing you’d just ran to your car and left, you tried to be polite as she approached you.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said gruffly, sticking out her hand which shook yours rather aggressively. You noticed now something neon green on her hip—a watergun? “Detective Agnes. I work for the FBI. I’m working on a murder case here.” She pulled out a black wallet and flipped it open towards you. You knew that there was supposed to be a gold FBI badge there, but it was only a CostCo membership card for someone named Ralph.

“Oh,” you mumbled as she sighed officially and put her “badge” back in her pocket. She was also wearing a purple shirt with a picture of Dolly Parton and the word “Jolene” on it. Who the hell was this woman?

“Better be careful, newbie,” she said, pointing to your house. “The kids love to egg this house. Don’t worry though, I’ve got top of the line security system.” She nodded proudly and pointed to the roof of her house, which you noticed had one solitary print-only Polaroid camera haphazardly duct taped to it.

“Oh,” was all you could say again, feeling the intense urge to run away.

“Unfortunately the department frowns on tasering the little shits even though it’s what those punks need to set them straight,” she said, stretching and tapping on the other side of her hip, which had a toy car on it that she apparently thought was a taser.

Nodding slowly, you started backing away to your car. “Okay, well, it’s nice to meet you.”

“You, too, young lady. Be safe out here. It’s a crime-ridden place.” She dramatically looked around the nice, quiet neighborhood as if she was looking at Gotham City and went back to her mailbox. You got in your car and sped away.

Westview only had a tiny market in town. It was liminal with its old linoleum floors and flickering green LED lights that buzzed overhead. It smelled slightly of rotting meat. You wondered if you could steal Detective Agnes’ fake CostCo card.

It was deserted in there, too, besides the drunk clerk with a scruffy beard who stared blankly at you. This was the point where you started to realize the citizens here did not take well to new people.

In fact, you had noticed the only other shopper in there seemed to be following you around. You didn’t feel in danger, given that it was just an older lady in a sweater buying fig newtons, until suddenly she came out from the other aisle and slammed her cart into yours.

“Hey!” you yelled out, looking at the older lady with short blonde hair.

“Get out while you still can!” she whisper-yelled, her eyes pleading. “You’re going to die!”

“Excuse me?”

“Run! Get out of that house, get out of this town! Wanda! She’s going to kill you! She’s going to kill us all!”

She was screaming now, eyes tearing up, knuckles turning white as she gripped her cart. You stared at her, wondering if you should call the police, until suddenly her face changed into a pleasant one.

“Ope! Sorry, dear! These carts have a mind of their own!” She let out a cheery little cackle before wheeling her cart away, going down the aisle to look at the Pop Tarts.

You stood there dumbfounded for a moment before deciding to just leave and go to Eastview for your shopping needs.

࿏

Your ex thought you weren’t worth much, but you knew she had to miss your cooking. Cooking was an art to you, a hobby you enjoyed sharpening your skills in. Tonight, since you’d been living off of leftover orange chicken for days, you were making a nice ribeye with lemon green beans and garlic mashed potatoes. A comfort meal. Maybe it would cheer up the angst-imbued house.

The interaction with your neighbors, specifically with the lady at the market, was unsettling. Why was she telling you to get out of that house? Who the hell was Wanda and why was she going to kill everybody? Was everyone in that town cracked out or out of their mind?

It was a little cozier, admittedly, as you were cooking that night. The kitchen had plenty of space for all your cooking tools and equipment, which you had a lot of. They were precious to you, so you had spent almost an entire day arranging them in all the drawers and cabinets.

You limited the lighting in the kitchen to the oven range and the little lamp in the living room. Setting your phone up, you let classical music fill the air as you prepped your steak while your potatoes finished boiling.

You felt calm and at home for the first time in a long time.

Until you started hearing a strange clicking noise.

Your first instinct was to check the oven since this was your first time using it. The clicking was not coming from there. You listened all around in the kitchen until you realized it was coming from the living room. Looking through the partition, you saw that the floor lamp on the other side of the living room was flickering.

Your pot of potatoes steaming and boiling, your steak left on the counter, you emanated through the flip door into the living room. You had just put a bulb in that lamp—no way it was dying already.

The closer you got to the lamp, the more it flickered. Faster and faster, causing your stomach to fold into anxious knots, until finally you lunged and turned it off all together. The room dark now, you caught your breath that you didn’t even notice was quickened.

You reached and turned it back on to find that it was no longer flickering. It must have been a weird glitch with the bulb. You were about to turn away when it suddenly clicked off by itself.

“What the fuck?” you say, reaching to turn it back on when it clicked right back on by itself. Taking a step away as fear imbued you, your eyes widened when the bulb in the lamp started getting brighter.

“What the fuck?” you say again, reaching to turn it off only to find that the bulb was so hot it burned your fingers. “Ow!” Stepping away, you watched in horror as the bulb kept getting brighter and brighter, filling up the entire room with light so that every corner and shadow was lit. You could see everything. And then it got so bright that you couldn’t see well. Your eyes burned, your skin burned with the heat of the bulb. The lamp was shaking where it stood, the fabric of the lampshade starting to burn up to expose the hot bulb even more. Even the metal pole was starting to melt where the bulb sat on it. You could hear the classical music playing from your phone in the kitchen, except that it was frenzied, angered, violent now.

It got brighter and brighter until your face was red hot and your hair felt like it was about to catch fire and all you could see was bright hot white, and you screamed a silent scream “STOP!”

With a loud electrical popping noise, the bright white faded away. You were blinded now, everything pitch dark, the heat replaced with a sudden coolness as the bulb popped and sparked on the lamp where the shade had half melted off. When you could finally see again, you unplugged the lamp and stepped away from it.

“What the fuck?” you said for the third time this night, heart beating fast as you rubbed your hot, aching eyes as your vision came back to you.

Before you could even process what had happened with the lamp, you looked over at the partition window and froze. Your heart stopped in your chest. Every hair on your arm stood up. Your eyes instantly watered with fear.

As you stood across the living room, staring through the partition window into the kitchen, you saw that every single cabinet and drawer in the kitchen was fully opened. All of your cooking tools, all the utensils and knives and equipment, hung suspended in the air right above or in front of the drawer or cabinet you had them in. It was like they were all on strings. And where your dining table was, all 3 chairs were hung upside down in the air above the table.

The air felt alive now. So alive you could feel its heartbeat, feel its breath down your neck, feel it on your skin. It was watching you, taunting you, burning eyes into you. There was something else there with you as you stared at all your kitchen stuff hanging in the air by themselves like they were on pulleys. But they were all so still. Nothing swayed or trembled.

A sigh breezed against the back of your neck. And then everything fell.

All of it dropped, every tool and utensil, every chair. It dropped like dead weight from where it hung, like gravity had suddenly been turned back on. It was deafeningly loud, all the metal tools clanging against the hard tile floor and countertops. Even your boiling pot of potatoes went down with a loud splash of steaming water. It was a deafening clatter, pure chaos as all of your stuff went right down to the floor. Even the chairs cracked onto the ground as they dropped heavily.

Things rolled and trembled until finally it all came to a stop. The air no longer felt as thick, but it was still there. It was silent now except for the eerie classical music still playing from your phone, calmly now.

You didn’t know what to do, or think, or feel. You felt fear. You felt confusion. Fingers trembling, you took frightened steps forward towards the kitchen, unsure of what lied in wait for you in there. Flipping open the door, you expected something to get you. You could feel it, you swore. Watching you. You swore you saw something dark swoop down under the surface of the island counter, but nothing was there. It was just you and all your broken tools and chairs. You avoided stepping on the mushed potatoes that still steamed as you walked through the warzone.

On the counter, your steak laid where you left it. Except that it was bleeding now, covered in thick, black blood that oozed out of it. It dripped down the counter, covered your floor. The center of the steak seemed to throb. Too much blood for just a ribeye, and when you touched it, it was warm.

࿏

Not that you had anyone to tell, but you didn’t speak of what happened. Dumbfounded, you numbly cleaned the mess up and went to bed. After the steak, you couldn’t eat beef for a week.

The house felt different now. Still eerie and angsty, but not as devoid as it did at first. Whatever devoid feeling had been filled the day you went into the attic was angered since the day in the kitchen. It felt like the house was resentful, like it was going to snap at any moment and swallow you. Even the doors kept slamming on your fingers when you tried to close them.

You thought about the lady in the market. Couldn’t stop thinking about her. Something very bad had happened in that house.

“Wanda?” Detective Agnes repeated when you asked her about it. You saw her in her backyard, duct taping another Polaroid camera to her patio. You spoke to her over the fence. It was gnawing at you to know what had happened. “Where did you hear that name?” she asked gruffly, perking up and approaching you at the fence, causing you to take a few steps back.

“Some lady at the store,” you blurted. “She was saying something about a Wanda, like it had to do with my house.”

Agnes squinted her eyes at you, and then she suddenly perked up as if she was listening to something. She grabbed a nearly all-brown banana from her hip and put it up to her mouth like a walkie talkie, speaking in a deep voice. “312 on the move. Dealing with concerned civilian. Be there at 1600 hours.” She tucked the banana back into her belt. “You wanna know about Wanda?”

You nodded, wondering if you should even trust what she has to say.

Agnes sucked at her lip and then blurted, “She’s dead. But you didn’t get that from me.”

“I kind of figured… Did she live here?”

Agnes tilted her head. “And what do you plan on doing with that information, huh? You trying to blackmail a federal officer?”

You raised your hands and backed away. “Look lady, I just live here and want to know why everyone is being so weird about the house I just bought.”

“Look,” Agnes interrupted you, “Wanda Maximoff was found dead in the woods. She’s gone, deadso, totally corpsed out, alright? I’ve got her on an operating table over at the morgue if you don’t believe me.”

You shook your head. “But she lived in my house?”

Then Agnes did something weird. She spoke, “I don’t know.” But she nodded her head.

You looked at her in confusion. “What?”

“I said, I don’t know!” she yelled, but she nodded her head again. The expression on her face was angry, but there was something wrong with her eyes. They were almost… pleading. But like she didn’t realize it.

That conversation didn’t make you feel any better about the situation. And when you got home to find that the old book you’d brought down from the attic was sitting on the coffee table open like something had been reading it, you weren’t exactly comforted.

It was turned to that same page, the one with the figure of a woman wearing a crown. Feeling aggravated with the lack of knowledge you were getting from both the internet and your neighbor, you slammed it shut and threw it under the couch, out of sight. If there was something in this house fucking with you, you would not just lay down and take it.

Things continued to feel off in the house. Your TV kept going off and on at random times. Doors slamming, footsteps in the hall at night, knocking on the walls. None of it felt as aggressive as that night in the kitchen, though. You’d come to terms that you had picked a slightly haunted house, though you still didn’t truly believe in all that stuff. But as a logical, sensible person, you knew that there was something strange causing all these strange occurrences that couldn’t be overlooked.

But when all the little events were mostly docile and didn’t get in the way of your usual living, you just carried on. You wouldn’t forgive what happened that night in the kitchen, but you could live with it and try to forget it. Even though you had to buy so much new kitchen stuff.

That was until you were cleaning one day and picked up that old dark book from under the couch so that you could vacuum. You set it on the coffee table and kept on cleaning, forgetting to put it back in its place of hiding.

That night, with a clean house, you decided to take a nice relaxing bath. You lit candles all around the bathroom and turned off the light as the tub filled with hot water. There’d been more flickering lights and knocking on the walls that evening, but you were starting to get used to it. It was an old house, after all. Maybe it was all just your imagination, and it was all very explainable in a scientific way.

But this event marked a point where you could no longer believe that.

As you laid in the tub, muscles relaxing under the hot water, you opened your eyes momentarily and saw something strange. In the water where you lay, you saw foggy threads of red floating through the water.

Were you bleeding?

Sitting up sharply, you check yourself all over. No marks, no wounds or cuts, no time of the month, but there’s trails of blood floating in the water.

Your heart starts to quicken as the air grows thick around you again, that same feeling as the one that night with the lamp. It swarms you.

“Stop,” you whisper, watching more and more blood appear from nowhere in the water, making the water turn crimson red.

Glancing at the reflective metal surface of the bathtub faucet, your heart stops when you see, in the warped reflection, some shadow of black sitting right behind you in the tub.

That’s when you scream and leap out of the water, nearly slipping on the tile floor as you freak out. There obviously was no one or nothing sitting behind you in the tub, but you most certainly saw the dark reflection of one.

The lightbulb above you starts flickering, even though the light was not turned on.

The blood in the water had gone, but during your jump out of the water your foot had pulled the stopper up. The water was draining now, very loudly, making a deep guttural sound as the water drained quickly. When it was all gone, it was silent.

Something dark appeared at the wide-open hole of the drain. It looked liquid at first, like some black substance was oozing out of the drain onto the white porcelain of the tub, but when it started rising up out of the hole and moving in a very alive way, you realized it was fingers.

Blackened fingers rose out of the drain, wiggling, pulling up a hand along with it. The fingernails were sharpened, the slender hand feminine even with its charcoal fingers.

You screamed when a whole arm shot out of the drain and grabbed at the side of the tub.

All you could think to do was run out of the bathroom and slam the door shut, holding onto the knob and listening as you heard the sickly wet sounds of something being pulled out of the drain and slapping against the wet tub, and even the sound of it stepping over the tub onto the floor. Heavy breathing with effort. Distorted wet footsteps across tile floor.

You wanted to run and call the police, but then you felt the knob gently turn in your hand. This bathroom door did not have a lock.

With some sort of screech of breath, whatever thing that was behind the door pulled hard at the knob. Screaming, you pulled the door back shut before you could see whatever was on the other side, wanting to rather die than to actually see what it was. The thing wrestled with you over the door, pulling hard and fast. You held on with all your strength, hands still wet from the bath, putting your foot against the threshold for more leverage. The air was screaming now, loud in your ears, a heartbeat that was not your own beating from inside your own brain. The lights were all flickering, and the house felt like it was closing in on you.

The thing pulled and pulled, screaming and screaming until it got the best of you. The knob slipped out of your hands, and the door swung wide open.

Instinctively, you slapped your hands over your eyes. You didn’t want to see. You didn’t want to see. You didn’t want to see. You’d rather die than see.

Breathing heavily, you waited for something to get you, because you were certain that whatever was in your house was trying to do that all along.

But nothing came.

Inhaling oxygen and exhaling bravery, you tried to ignore all the visions your brain guessed that you would see, and parted your fingers. Through the slit in your fingers you saw… nothing. The bathroom was empty. The tub was drained but clean. The flame of the candles all around were perfectly still.

But then you heard a creaking noise from behind you. Slowly, breath held, trembling, you turned around and raised your eyes.

A black figure clung to the ceiling. It was the shape of a person with soft edges. It was a shadow, in human form.

It jumped down at you.

With a scream, you buckled to the floor and covered your head, trying to shield yourself. Nothing touched you. You bravely opened your eyes again and looked all around only to not see the black figure anywhere. There was nothing but you, naked and wet on the floor.

The air felt empty again. The thing had come and gone. You were safe.

For now.

࿏

It was hard to feel settled after that. Things got more aggressive. It was like whatever demon was with you had finally laid eyes on you and was set to get you now. You couldn’t find that book anywhere. It wasn’t on the coffee table nor under the couch. You looked everywhere to no avail.

Detective Agnes knocked on your door one night to tell you that someone had been lurking at a window at the side of your house. She was holding a full-size Nerf Super Soaker and said that she had tried to snipe the suspect wearing all-black but they had somehow jumped into your closed window (hence the sound of spraying water you had heard on your window). She demanded to look through the house, which she did and found nothing. You’re pretty sure she swiped a pair of your underwear, though. She taped a Polaroid camera to your roof for good measure and said she took photos of “damning” evidence which included unconcerning pictures of your flowerbed. You knew it wasn’t a person, but rather a thing lurking from within the window.

Nights were the worst. You had never been someone to be so scared, but you could barely sleep from how hard your heart thumped with fear as you lay in bed at night.

A few nights after the bathroom event, you managed to halfway fall asleep somewhere around 3 AM when you suddenly heard loud banging coming from within the walls. Waking up with a shot of anxiety in your chest, you heard the banging again, loud and clear, like someone trying to break down a wall from the inside.

Feeling frozen, you forced yourself to sit up when you fully froze at the sight of something horrific. In the corner of your bedroom, right beside the window, was that dark figure hiding in the shadows. It seemed more formed this time. You could see the outline of hips, hands, legs. The worst part was that you could see two red eyes gleaming at you in the dark.

“Go away!” you instinctively yelled, but it came out barely audible due to the lump in your throat.

The figure slowly came forward, and the moonlight from the window casted over it.

It was some creature of a woman. She was decrepid, slightly hunched over. Her eyes were red and glowing, her mouth set wide open as if her jaw has been broken off. But where her face would have been… Where her face would have been, her skin had been stretched upward into two points, like her skin had been stretched over horns, or over a crown. She was unnaturally tall and skinny, her skin pale and yellowed.

Dark red hair laid at her shoulders, and she was wearing some torn and ratted red suit. Her hands were deformed, long and sharp and bony, blackened at the ends. The horrible smell of death and blood suddenly filled your nostrils, making you gag and cover your nose. The creature smelled of death and appeared deformed, demonic, monstrous, evil.

“Who are you?” you questioned, trying to think of what to say or do. This thing must have been some sort of manifestation of the thing that had been torturing you, and so you say the only name you know. “Wanda?”

The creature erupted into a monstrous screech so loud you nearly went deaf, and in a flash, she lunged fast at you. You swore you could feel her push you down onto the bed when you suddenly sit back up, coming out of a horrible nightmare.

You were sweating through the sheets, panting, looking all around your empty bedroom. Had it been just a dream?

Feeling a sting at your shoulder, you look at it to see a bloody claw mark there, so deep it was already dripping blood.

Once the demon had first seen you in the bathroom, she got more aggressive. Now she had tasted your blood… What was going to happen now?

As you expected, everything got worse. The knocking and footsteps got more violent than ever, doors slamming on you, knives throwing themselves across the kitchen towards you. This thing was trying to get you.

You leased an apartment in Eastview as quickly as you could.

You couldn’t move in for a week, so you were stuck there with that thing trying to murder you. Your friend you had been crashing with was on holiday, but you could not stand to sleep alone in that house. So you asked the only person you could think of…

“No worries, tuts,” Agnes said as she strode into your bedroom with an armful of blankets and pillows. “It’s my job to keep my fellow citizens safe.” She threw her blankets and pillows down on the ground right at the foot of your bed.

Awkwardly, you watched her make a pallet. “You know, I have a couch downstairs… That might be best so you can, you know, watch the front door.” You had told her you were having fears of break-ins and just needed someone to stay with you for a night or two.

“No, no, I can do my job best from right here,” she said as she plopped down onto the pallet. “Besides, these nights can get a little…” She undid her police jacket, which was actually just a varsity jersey jacket with the name Bohner on the back, as she looked up at you with a smirk. “Lonely…”

You just stared down at her, with her banana and water gun. “Okay, Agnes.”

Honestly, the night went better with Agnes there. There wasn’t any knocking or footsteps, no creatures in your corner. It was just Agnes’ obnoxiously loud snoring like a lawnmower right in your bedroom that kept you awake, but eventually you drifted off.

You had dreams of red. Of red and blood behind your eyes. Voices, names, memories, all in red. You don’t know what it was that jolted you awake, but something did, and when you flapped open your eyes, you saw her.

She was on your ceiling.

Red scarlet hair hanging down. Her face was not malformed this time, but rather, it was somewhat beautiful. Even with the glowing red eyes and darkness.

“Wanda,” you whispered, somehow knowing for sure that this was her. Wanda, the woman who had died, who had a family in the house you bought, who had been torturing you for weeks. Her fingers, black, clung to the ceiling as if that’s what kept her there, but you could tell it was magic. It was the same magic that froze your body and made you unable to move as she slowly drifted down the ceiling, closer to you, until she hovered right above you.

She didn’t seem real. This beautiful ghost, demon, whatever she was, her nose so close to yours, breathing over you with red eyes full of desire.

“You opened the Darkhold,” she spoke in deep unnatural voice without moving her lips. “You beckoned me.”

You tried to shake your head, but you couldn’t move a muscle in your body except your mouth. “No, I didn’t…” You thought of the old dark book. You had opened it.

“I can live on…” she spoke, reaching out her hand to touch you. It landed on your stomach, causing you to jump. You could feel her hand. You felt silly for expecting it to just go right through you. Her skin was touching your stomach over your shirt. It made you feel fear and excitement at the same time. “I have a womb now.”

Your eyebrows sewed together. “A womb?”

Chills filled you as Wanda’s lips stretched open in a wide grin that was too perfect to be real. Her face looked fake suddenly, like it was just a pretty human mask put over the real face of something horrible. “A womb for my children,” she said without moving her lips.

Suddenly, your legs were spread wide open in the air. You let out a scream of shock and fear, which made Agnes’ snoring finally stop. Agnes jumped up, stumbling, holding her Super Soaker. Her eyes widened when she saw the demon hovering over you.

“Get down!” Agnes yelled to you as she held up the Nerf gun and sprayed a sharp stream of water at Wanda. To your surprise, once the water hit the demon, it steamed and burned. Wanda hissed and turned to Agnes, levitating upright in the air as Agnes continued to spraying her.

Getting out her banana, Agnes yelled, “664 we need backup over here! I repeat! 664 we’ve got a code red!”

Wanda lifted her hand. Agnes rose up into the air, and with a flick of Wanda’s wrist, she was flung right out of the second-floor window.

Wanda turned back to you, and fear jumped at your spine again. Now it was just you and her.

Flying back towards you, she used her magic to peel the sheets off of you, settling herself down on the bed over you.

“What are you doing?!” you cried out as she somehow tore your clothes off your body, exposing your skin to her.

Her hand immediately went between your legs, groping at your core. “I have been waiting so long for you, detka,” she spoke, her voice sounding a little more natural. Her eyes, once robotic and blank, looked softer now. You couldn’t tell if it was real or not.

You tried to squirm but her magic kept you still. Her hand was expert—she rubbed circles at your clit as her other hand snaked up over your stomach, up to your breast which she groped. “The perfect vessel,” she whispered. “I can live on. I can have my children again,” she repeated as she slid her hand down to your tummy again, her hand glowing red. “Your womb is so fertile. I could feel it when you first arrived.”

Your head was spinning as this demon woman worked at your pussy, pinching your clit and slipping two fingers inside which made you yelp. She was gentle yet firm at the same time, somehow knowing exactly what would make you feel good. You were getting wet for her—you could hear it in the wet sloshing sound that your pussy made as she pumped her fingers in and out of you, curling them at their deepest length.

“Fuck,” you breathed, your head feeling suddenly very hot, as if a fever suddenly set upon you.

“You are so good,” she breathed, voice deeper this time as she adjusted where she sat between your legs, now kneeling over you. Suddenly, something large formed at her crotch. It was a strap—long and maroonish red with charcoal darkness at the tip.

“What are you—”

Wanda grinned and shushed you as she stroked her length, red magic glowing from within her strap. “Be a good, quiet vessel, detka.”

Something evil was showing through in her eyes.

“Wanda—”

She used her magic to shut your mouth so that you could only make muffled noises as the demon nestled between your hips, using her hands to spread your thighs further open. She wanted you as open for her as you could be.

Frightened but also some sickly form of turned on, you watched as the demon stroked her cock and brought it to your entrance which she had prepped and made soaking wet for herself. Her cock was larger than anything you’d ever taken. It was throbbing with magic.

The tip pushed through your entrance painfully, and you cried out through the magic covering your mouth as the demon suddenly pushed her entire cock inside you, ripping open your walls. Pain seared through your human body as the demon forced her way inside you, but when she passed a hand over your head, the pain suddenly went away. It turned more into a feeling of butterflies, of throbbing, of pleasure. You could feel blood leaking down your thighs, but she had taken away your pain.

“You are going to give me such beautiful children,” Wanda murmured, cupping your chin with her dark hand as she started to thrust her hips, pumping herself inside you. The pressure came against your cervix in a hot flash of pleasure each time. She was so long and so large, fucking herself so deep inside you that your stomach bulged. The demon pressed her hand on the bulge and cackled, feeling herself fuck you from inside.

You could feel everything, how deep she was, how the ridges of her strap glided against your walls, the way your stomach bulged with each thrust. Your pussy was being stretched open around her demon cock, taking every single inch no matter how girthy.

“The perfect bride,” Wanda said, her demon voice showing through as she started to fuck you harder. Her hand slapped around your throat, holding you down and halfway choking you as her thrusts became quicker and quicker, demonic grunts coming from her. You could feel yourself tightening inside, preparing for what was about to come.

The demon’s cock seemed to swell inside you, forcing you to stretch even more. Sickly squelching noises filled the air. Blood was all over the bed now. You felt nothing but electric, all-consuming pleasure.

“Stay still,” Wanda said as she choked you harder. “You’re going to take all of my seed. You’re going to give me such beautiful children, my beautiful bride.”

She went harder and harder, fucking deep into your womb until finally, the energy broke. She let out a guttural noise, and you could feel her cock go rigid inside you before a load of warmth filled you deep inside. As you shook from your own blinding orgasm, you couldn’t even see the fact that your tummy bulged as the demon kept filling you with her seed which glowed red from inside you.

Sighing, Wanda relaxed against you, keeping her cock inside you. It was still swollen, stuck inside your cunt. “I’m going to keep myself here until I know it takes.” She smiled for real this time as she stroked your glowing, swollen tummy. You were more than feverish now as you felt things start to change inside you at an inhuman speed. You could feel it taking, feel your tummy swelling more and more.

You didn’t know that once you birthed, she would slaughter you like breeding cattle.

[hauntingblue]

This volume is called ace's introduction. Nothing more to say.

"You hire comedians here?" He is so funny....

Who's gonna tell him..... He literally will never get a break

Ace being so proud of Luffy not accepting to join and being a little shit... Also right here is where I got ROBBED of my acesan content.... Also he does fight whitebeard... In marineford... GOD!!!!!

GOOOD TAKE ME INSTEAD!!!! TAKE MEEEE!!!! AAAAHHHHHHHH

You cannot see me but I am on the floor on my knees and I am crying and sobbing and hitting my chest asking the gods to spare him

[totalswag]

fourth july — RAFE CAMERON

authors note hope everyones being safe today and having a good time. this is kinda short but hope you lovies like it. summer time in the obx sounds looks so much fun. i don't think i've written about dad!rafe yet or maybe i have but either way, rafe is such a girl dad.

summary spending the summer day with friends and family by the pool, barbecuing, and lighting fireworks at night.

warnings swearing, happy moments, kissing, loud fireworks.

Friends and family were surrounded in your backyard, in the pool, on the patio, with children running around and cooking. It's a lovely summer day in Kildare, where friends and family are gathering.

Today is the Fourth of July. Rafe and you agreed a few weeks ago that you would like to have everyone come to your house by eating, swimming, eating, and then watching fireworks at night.

You were at the shallow end of the pool with your seven-month-old daughter, Layla, her small hands clutching yours as she stamped against the water, making everyone around giggle.

Layla's tiny hands gripped your fingers tightly, her chubby legs kicking up water in all directions. The sheer joy on her face was a delight to see.

"She's a natural," Sarah said from her lounge chair, sipping a refreshing lemonade. "Already a little mermaid."

You smiled, her heart flooding with affection for her tiny girl. "She sure is," you said, adjusting Layla's sunhat to block the harsh sunlight.

Layla was surprised to see kids swimming and bouncing in the water. She drew her body towards the kids as you lifted her up beneath her armpits, drawing her towards them.

You're so cute

I wanna hold her

Layla do you like to water?

Rafe stood nearby, engaged in conversation with Topper and Kelce. Layla had grown tired of the water and was now perched on Rafe's hip, her tiny fingers entwined with his gold chain. She babbled happily, occasionally tugging on the chain, making the guys laugh.

You were near all the snacks with your girlfriends chatting it up too.

The three were talking about typical guy stuff.

"She's got a good grip there," Kelce remarked, grinning.

"Yeah, you sure she won't rip it off?" Topper added.

"She knows what she likes," Rafe stated proudly, kissing Layla on the forehead. The sight of Rafe seamlessly mixing fatherhood with his typical friendship was wonderful.

Layla has always had this fascination with Rafe's chain the moment she was able to grab onto things. The main thing is the chain; Rafe has talked about getting her one with her name on it when she turns one in a few months.

As the day progressed into the evening, everybody went from the pool to the front yard. Lawn chairs and blankets were put out in preparation for the fireworks display.

The kids were able to set up s'mores on the side while they sat on the blanket on the grass watching neighbors light their fireworks.

Layla is wrapped in a comfortable blanket and nestled in your arms. She looked at you with her beautiful blue eyes, babbling in baby talk; you responded back even though you dont like what she's saying.

Rafe approached Layla with a pair of baby headphones and carefully placed them over her ears. "We don't want her to be scared of the noise," he murmured quietly, his eyes finding yours with a loving expression.

Layla grins softly at Rafe, hiding her face in your chest when he playfully tickles under her chin.

The first firework launched into the sky, resulting in a shower of bright sparks. The audience cheered, their faces illuminated by the glow. Layla's eyes widened with surprise, yet she remained calm and secure in your grip.

Sarah had her phone out, taking pictures and videos. She caught Layla at the perfect moment, focused on the fireworks and occasionally making perplexed facial expressions in response to particular fireworks.

"Please send that to me as soon as you can," you laugh, pointing at Sarah. "Do not worry, I will send you everything," she says with a smile on her face.

A few minutes later, Rafe approaches you, wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder, and kissing your cheek.

"I love you girls so much."

"And we love you so much, Handsome."

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