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kneelingshadowsalome · 3 months

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The other day I was reading about the “mail-order brides” during the Gold Fever/Gold Rush in USA. Men ordered/purchased a wife via mail, and one of the many reasons some of them did that was because of loneliness, and I couldn’t help but think “yep, that would be König”. Just imagine him living alone in his farm or ranch, he only goes to town once a month to buy essential supplies, hides his face, and barely socializes with folks. But deep inside he is just a lonely man who desires a family, and a woman to call his (and one who can help him with his… needs) But he is socially inept, so he takes the easy route and orders himself a wife, that way he doesn’t have to bother with interacting with other people and gets himself a pretty wife

Oh my god 💞

König wanting to wed and bed her the minute she arrives by train... She thought he would court her for a while before they marry, she thought they would do this decently, that they would get to know each other first, she’d rent an apartment from the small town and then decide if she wanted to live with him…

But he says everything’s settled, he already took care of everything, they’re getting married today and spend their wedding night in the saloon before leaving for his settlement tomorrow.

She’s too bewildered to even speak, so it's no wonder she gets herded to the altar right away, a pretty, meek little bride is just what König ordered! Gets wed to this giant hulking gold digger while still wearing her traveling clothes, the priest only looks drunk and bored as she peeps her vows. The man she's now wed to looks down at her with unbridled affection and curiosity, but soon enough, she catches him eyeing her waistline, her bust, the corset she wears feeling tighter still by his indecent stare.

He's far from a gentleman, and dresses like a weather-worn cowboy, and she suspected as much from the way he wrote and how unpolished his handwriting was. But at least he seems kind. If anything, he's smitten that she’s not some old hag who deceived him by claiming to be an unmarried young lady, that she is everything and more he wished for based on the few letters they exchanged.

The wedding is over in a few minutes, and there’s no coffee and cake, no party under some big tree, no relatives or friends to congratulate her on her wedding day. There’s only this huge, intimidating man who looks at her like she just dropped down from heavens, his eyes slowly sparking aflame with both softness and lust.

He takes her to the saloon to eat, and then she finds herself in a greasy little room upstairs, changing into her white nightgown, getting ready to sleep and only sleep, but her nightmare of a day is not over yet. Her hand flies over her mouth, she nearly screams as she turns around and finds this horrible man of lowly European descent thoroughly naked behind her.

She’s in so much trouble, that much was certain from the minute he saw this man, but seeing his… equipment in the dim candle light of the old saloon is too much after everything she's gone through. She's verily about to faint.

It’s just her luck to dream of adventures and a happy, exciting new life and then find herself thrown into the arms of some barbaric, foreign giant... He said he’s looking for a companion in life and hinted at being a little lonely, but men who wish to court a lady don’t do it like this: by dragging them to the altar and then presenting their cocks to them before even two hours have passed!

The rowdy noise of cancan downstairs is a filthy backdrop to seeing a naked man for the first time in her life, and she never knew male parts could be so... big. Or jumpy. Or leaky... This man is clearly serious about this commitment, and thinks there’s no need to get to know each other, she’s his wife now and they need to consummate the marriage right away.

He’s breathing heavily while grabbing that weeping weapon in his fist, telling her she’s more beautiful than he ever even imagined. He pleasures himself slowly while watching her try to cover herself in her thin, faintly translucent gown, and she still can't find any words – the man is behaving like a scoundrel or a highwayman, not at all like the sharp dressed, eloquent gentlemen she's grown used to in the city. The slick sounds of lewd fapping are accompanied by moans of how she’s the answer to all his prayers, and her hair stands on end, she feels like she’s walking on tar here in the distant frontier with nothing but greedy men and drunken brothel keepers around her, now face to face with a giant, throbbing cock out of all things...

She coldly orders him to sleep on the floor while she takes the bed – she’s not letting this nasty, hairy beast near her anytime soon, not when she still has her wits about her. Defeated when she won’t let him “consummate their love” tonight, the man withdraws to sleep on the floor with a sullen groan and a long sigh.

She never sleeps a wink that night in fear of finding him by her side, groping his way through her dress, but to her surprise this man only snores on the floor as if he's used to sleeping there.

Civilization is far away when he leads her to his shack the next day and shows her the first small specks of gold he has found, apologizing for the state of his abode so unkempt and unclean. She has to give it to him that he's indeed kind and doesn’t want to make her suffer unduly, because the table and the bench are wiped in a hurry before she sits down, as if she’s a queen visiting a humble subject. He makes her a bath next to the fire and washes in the water after her, giving her flirty, promising smiles throughout the whole splashy ordeal.

Before long, the giant cock is presented to her again as the man excitedly waits for permission to take her, telling her he has never seen anything like her, that she makes his heart run wild.

The only thing running wild in her sour opinion is his cock, bouncing up and down from the need to be inside her, nearly leaking seed on the floor she suspects she has to wash and scrub tomorrow anyhow as his wife. Evening after evening, she rejects his advances, but after a week or two, her will breaks.

She tells herself it’s only out of pity that she lets him finally crawl over her and lift her gown, that it’s only to stop the man from spiraling into madness that she allows him to test how nicely that thick, leaky cock glides through her folds.

“You’re wet, Sonnenschein,” he pants with happy excitement when she notices her swollen, sloppy state, then plunges his cock deep into his wet little prize with a filthy moan. He tells her she’s tight and hot, and takes her like she’s some kind of an angelic whore, falls panting all over her breasts when he’s sated and done, says that she’s his salvation and that he’ll do anything to make her feel at home here.

She feels exactly like a desperate mail order bride, lured here with the promise of a good life and gold, but when she starts to wait for him to come home instead of dreading the end of the day, that's when her hell truly begins.

It just won't do to start wanting him, to trick her heart to be content with whatever this is. To enjoy his "love" would be even more shameful than anything else so far. The truth of the matter is that she's tormented by a lustful, wild man who takes her on her knees or on her stomach like an animal while moaning about how tight she is, how soft she is, how he can’t concentrate at work because of her.

But when he groans that he loves her just before he cums, she feels a distant sting near her heart, a burst of a small bonfire somewhere in her gut from his words. Far from romantic, but so authentic and pure they’re ripped out of him with a pathetic, cry-like moan.

And just when her heart is about to turn and grow full with softness, he barges in and takes her standing, needy after work, deciding that she looks far too alluring while stirring the stew over the fire. His sunshine of a wife waiting for him with warm food and a soft little cunt, it's exactly like it was always meant to be in his dreams... He’s kind and attentive, but doesn’t know a thing about ladies and that they’re not supposed to be taken by the fire like this, but the dramatic pout on her lips turns into a helpless grimace before this animal has given her three full thrusts.

And it’s only by accident, she tells herself, that it happens. It’s only a coincidence that she finds herself short of breath and shivering, then crying with pleasure from the way his cock sails inside her, hasty and needy as if she’s nothing but a momentary relief for this man.

But she knows she’s far from that. He always stays after the hurried lovemaking – if you could call it that – swallows and tells her things that are supposed to be sweet, perhaps. He whispers loving nonsense in her ear with a stupid, quivering voice, tells her that she’s so tight he’s about to lose his mind. That she brightens up his life and makes this shack a home, a palace, even. That he wants to give her children and grow old together.

She prays the heavens to save her from such a future, but when she accidentally comes with his cock inside her, the man breaks down entirely. Repeats the awful, pathetic “I love you” until he comes, too, and sounds like a man who's getting his sould ripped apart from his bones. It’s sinful lunacy what he’s doing to her in that shack, and dares to sprinkle it with love out of all things, and she doesn’t know if she hates him, or if she loves him too.

Annulling this marriage is nearly impossible, and the sooner he gets her pregnant, the sooner she’s even more trapped, just like the poor rabbits this man lures into the snares placed around the shack. He spends every little speck of gold to buy her silks, satins and gowns, proper woolen scarves and soft little leather shoes, gives her a gentle kiss every morning before he leaves to wash gold. Every evening after meal, he praises her cooking skills and then takes her on the creaking old bed like she's a common whore. The silly, girlish dreams of being whisked away by a mysterious, romantic gentleman are somewhere far away when this giant spills his seed inside her with a thick, arduous groan, then proceeds to cover her in kisses too sweaty and hot.

“I know you don’t love me,” he whispers between the one-sided sucking and nibbling that’s about to make her cry. “But I will make you happy... I swear it, on my life.”

She can only stare at the ceiling, filled with the dancing flames of the fire as he falls asleep with his cock still inside her, the soft snore on her breasts both happy and sad.

#könig x you #könig smut #könig x reader #mail order bride #gold rush au #könig angst

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whispereons · 11 months

Text

Oracle!Reader Part 1

Masterlist - Part 2

A light zap of electricity made your cheek tingle, urging you awake. Sleepily, you opened your eyes and were greeted with a rundown room with no furniture. The strange sight woke you up immediately and you sat up.

What the hell? This isn't your home, fuck, this doesn't even look like somewhere in your city!

As you surveyed the surroundings with more urgency, thoughts of the day before came to mind.

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

You were only supposed to drop off the money from the scams to your boss. Your forte wasn't fighting yet when you entered the rundown building, there was tension in the air.

Your boss glowered at the woman across the room. Before you could even ask one of your coworkers what's happening, guns were drawn. In less than 5 seconds the building became a mess of fighting, gun shots, and noise.

Trained instincts of running kicked in and you were already slipping past brawls trying to get to the nearest exit. The money was already dropped off, your boss couldn't hold shit against you.

Just as you got close to the window, a lanky man shoved you. You only stumbled back and raised your fists. You didn't like to fight but after years of living less than legal, you've learned how to fight long enough to escape.

In 10 minutes you were already walking down the sidewalk with bloody knuckles and a bruised foot. The other guy must be worse since you threw him into the window before escaping.

It's just your luck that a police car pulls up beside you. Stopping, you flash a smile to the officer as he rolls down the window.

"Sorry to bother you so late but I noticed that you're a little hurt. Do you need me to bring you to a hospital?"

What he's really asking is what got you hurt, but you keep your cool and answer with cheeriness.

"It's really nothing. I was just at the bar down the street with a friend when some people started getting rowdy. They got kicked out before anyone could really get hurt but I still got a little banged up."

You point to the bar that you passed by that's in full swing. The officer eyes you for a moment before asking a follow-up question.

"And what about your friend? Where are they, are they okay?"

Your tone drops a little as you reply. "Their wonderful partner picked them up so I left. I mean it's not like I have any lover to pick me up. What can a poor single person like me do?"

The officer instantly becomes bored and says a quick goodbye before driving off. You roll your eyes at the predictable action and continue walking home. Lying has become a natural habit for you and you've become damn good at it.

You finally get home to your shitty studio apartment in the seedy part of the city. Locking the door, you trudge to your computer as you ignore the screams from other apartments. You boot it up and start eating the cheap fast food you picked up.

First you check on the scam ads you posted to see which poor sucker fell for it. You forward the card information to another coworker and consider yourself done with work for the day.

Were you a bad person for being a scam artist? Yeah. Did you wish that you could have a normal job that doesn't involve hurting people? Hell yeah. Have you ever been able to? Nope.

You click the little Paimon app to run Genshin to distract yourself from those meaningless thoughts. You've been stuck in those loops long enough to know it's useless to dwell on them.

The mindless commissions are just what you need to relax. You smile at the sight of Bennett's idle before farming for the most annoying materials; Handguards.

You finish combing through most of the Inazuma islands before teleporting to Seirai Island. The statue of the seven heals your party from any damage that occurred.

Leaning back in your chair, you stretched your arms, sighing as the tension is released from your body. Deciding to turn in for the night, you exit out of Genshin.

Well, you tried at least.

No matter how many times you clicked, it just wouldn't exit. Brushing it off as a bug, you just shut down the device.

Instead of shutting down, the screen showed the doors to Celestia. With no prompt, the doors opened and the white flash shined into your eyes.

Cringing at the harsh light you waited for it to stop.

It didn't.

It got brighter and brighter before it completely enveloped you.

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

Feeling more awake after remembering, you look around the house. Other than the creaky bed you were on, nothing else was in the house. You stand up and nearly trip over a bag at your feet.

Opening it, you find nothing but you decide to take it just in case. That's when you notice that your knuckles are completely healed. No blood, bandages or pain.

You check your body and see that although scars have remained, all your minor cuts and bruises have healed without a trace. Feeling creeped out you try to leave the house. The nearly broken door takes a good amount of strength to push open but you do and stumble out.

The sight of purple thundering skies, floating rocks, and a statue of the seven shocks you. You stumble on the squeaky plants and hard cobblestone as you get closer to the edge.

White trees with purple leaves, blue grass and Naku Weed surround the ground. It's the same area where you tried to log off. There was no way you were in Genshin Impact; Shit like this only happens in fiction.

Hallucination, death, dream, or pulled into a fictional world. Your mind whirls those four possibilities. You stomp on what should have been your bruised foot. It's painful, but not as much as a bruised foot.

With death and dream off the list you walk to the small tree with purple leaves. An Otogi tree, your mind helpfully supplies. You press a hand against the bark and feel the leaves carefully. The sensation is too real and you're too steady to be hallucinating.

You must really be in Tevyat. You were never attached to Earth but being suddenly thrust here is still a bit jarring. You look at the statue of the seven and contemplate your next decision.

From what you remember, anyone who isn't from Teyvat should be allowed to take elemental power from the statue. Biting your lip you approach the statue and place a hand on the gold accessories.

You marvel at how the statue glows at your presence but when you look at your hands, you feel no difference. It seems you wouldn't be a main character in this world either.

Shrugging it off, the excitement of actually being in Teyvat started to well up inside you. You walk down the desecrated dirt and cobblestone path as you admire Seirai Island.

While walking you freeze at the sight of two Fatui soldiers at a camp. You could fight people and escape, but Fatui soldiers? Fuck no. You didn't plan to die this fast.

You sneak along the houses to your left all while trying to remember Seirai's layout. If you wanted to survive in this world, you would need to get to civilization. You needed a boat cause there was no way in hell you were swimming in water that could be struck with lightning at any moment.

You follow the left path that seems to lead to the shore. Fuck, a mirror maiden is walking the same path right towards your direction. With some fast thinking and only a small dose of panic, you scale the rocks on your right.

They were thankfully small enough that your minor skills could be utilized well enough. Breathing heavily, you lay down on the soft blue grass. You close your eyes and open them swiftly at something tingly but smooth on your nose.

It's an electro Crystalfly. Purple and beautiful. You lay there mesmerized before it flies off gently. You stand up in a daze and struggle not to blindly follow it.

You walk along the cliff's edge while being careful not to fall. You can't risk going onto the grass in fear of a spector chasing you. Yet another thing that can end your new life.

Once far away enough from the mirror maiden, you slowly climb down and feel relieved at not breaking a bone. The path splits into two and you contemplate which one would lead to the Waverider.

Logically you know the chance of the waverider working for you was small, but the chance of you finding an intact boat was even smaller. Your train of thought is broken by the sounds of machines whirring from the right path.

You curse yourself and start sprinting down the left path to get away. Forgetting the existence of Ruin Sentinels almost cost you your life, but due to your panic, you almost sprinted straight into a different Ruin Sentinel.

Skidding to a stop, you hastily walk around it while sweating bullets. Thankfully it didn't notice you and you praise your good luck. You walk more alert to the waverider but stop at the teleport waypoint.

Out of simple curiosity, you touch the teleport structure. It glows similar to how it did in the game. But instead of red turning blue, the blue turned gold.

A smile forms on your face as your mind races with the possibilities that this could mean. Excitedly, you run to the waverider and touch it. Its blue turns gold and a boat is summoned onto the water.

It's not the same boat as the travelers, in fact you would even say it's better. Climbing into your boat you marvel at how much space it has. There is a small screen in the middle with a handprint.

There is no steering wheel or any other controls. You put your hand on it and say the first island that comes to mind. "Take me to Kannazuka Island."

The boat begins to move and you sit down on the couch. The whole boat feels luxurious to the point where you feel out of place; as if you're the sole piece of dirt on it.

But you don't have to be trash anymore. This world is kinder to people that couldn't finish school or can't stay in one spot. You wanted to try a normal job, maybe set up a stall or shop. Work as a normal, legal worker, or even become an adventurer. If reckless Pallas could do it, surely you could.

No more lying, no more crime.

The boat stops and you get off as you try to remember which part of the island you stopped at. There's a waverider and a teleport waypoint close together. That's on the right side of the Tatarasuna also known as the place where Kunikuzushi died and became Scaramouche.

After tapping both the waverider and teleport waypoint, you walk closer to the main part of the island. You remember farming this place for the handguards which explains why there is no Nobushi.

After passing the broken down ship part, you spot a tree with lavender melon. Excitedly and with hunger you get close and pick the lowest hanging fruit.

It's juicy and unlike any fruit you've eaten before. Which isn't a lot since fruit is expansive. You stroll down the shore as you finish the fruit.

You recognize the area on the left as a place where a quest had a fight. Walking on it you smile at seeing it in person. It's really amazing how you're actually here. And holy shit is that Ei?

The archway made of rock that leads into Tatarasune has Ei standing right there. You freeze and your breathing slows down as you try not to be noticed.

Ei was a complex character meaning that she will cause a lot of trouble for the peaceful and lawful existence you planned to live here.

As you try to walk away casually you hear her mutter something interesting.

"I could have sworn I felt their presence somewhere here."

Ei locks eyes with you making you freeze. You should greet her with her long ass title but there was no way you remembered that. Instead you give a small bow and speak politely.

"Please forgive my intrusion. I hope I haven't-"

"How dare you."

"I'm sorry wha-"

"Who are you? Which nation are you from? How dare you show such disrespect toward Their Holiness?!"

Her glare is firm and her voice grows louder. Gaping at the sudden hostility, you take a step back when she starts to pull out her Musou-no-something.

Ei's words are barely registered in your brain as you scramble for a way to escape.

"Someone with the same face as the creator is an anomaly. No one has ever been born with their face yet you, a mere human mortal, has it. I shall sacrifice you to them for impersonating the creator's image."

It's like her one track mind as a soldier has taken over Ei again. You yell the first thing that comes to mind that can help you escape while pointing behind her.

"OH MY GOD, IS THAT MAKOTO YOUR TWIN SISTER?!"

Ei freezes and immediately whips her head to look behind her. You don't hesitate to book it back to the boat.

'Just keep running, just keep running.' You sing frantically to yourself as you hear Ei chase after you. You yelp in pain when lightning starts striking your heels with every step.

She's toying with you, you realize. She wants to know how you could possibly know about her sister. She won't kill you yet but you know she won't hesitate to harm you severely.

The boat comes into view and you jump into it. The water that you splashed in, in your hurry makes your feet hurt more.

"Do you think that boat can protect you from me?"

You sit on the floor and try to think up a solution but the pain coursing through your body is hindering you. But you already know that you can't drive the boat or else she'll destroy it.

"Tell me how you know her name. How do you know her connection to me? How much more do you know about us?"

None of your regular tactics can work on her, not without risking death. You look at your lap for some kind of solution and notice your hands glowing. A small plan begins to form and instead you answer her with a distraction.

"Do you truly believe that I'm the only person alive that knows about her?"

Ei goes silent and you take advantage of the time to try to figure out what's happening with your hands. As much as you hope you gained elemental powers, you doubt that it can actually help you when an archon is trying to harm you.

You feel like spiderman as you make various hand gestures with your hands trying to figure out what the deal is with the glowing. It's the simple gesture of putting your hands together and pulling them apart that makes the glowing leave your hands and form a small screen.

"Did Celestia send you down here? Did you have a mission from them to use the Creator's form to dig up information?"

As the screen glows white and shows the Genshin Impact logo, your breath hitches. Your only hope is to let Ei draw her own conclusions from your answers as you hope your new power can help you.

"Celestia, huh? If Celestia themself took on the form of the Creator for their plans, do you think they would succeed?"

Thunder strikes louder after you say that. The logo leaves and shows the traveler on the beach in Mondstadt. You don't think about the weirdness of that before teleporting Lumine to where you are at.

"What are you implying-"

Ei's words are cut off as the sound of teleporting rings through your ears unlike the game audio has ever done before. On the screen the traveler stands next to a gold teleport waypoint with Ei nowhere to be seen. You smile at the implication.

You look out the boat and don't see Lumine there. You look back at the screen only to find it gone. You make the gesture and the screen reappears. It's only when you look away from the teleport waypoint that the screen finally loads.

Lumine is still standing next to the gold teleport waypoint. After teleporting her back to the beach you close the screen. With the Ei threat somewhat subdued, you feel safe enough to collapse on the couch.

Lazily you tell the ship to sail to Narukami Island, Ei would still come after you. Anywhere is better than your present location. An idea forms in your mind and you clarify. "Bring me to Amakane Island."

Your mind processes the information of a Creator, your resemblance, the screen, and new threats. The first step is clear as day. The little shop on Amakane Island that sells masks is your first stop.

Hello anybody that reads this. I have started another fic series. Again. There is a large chance that I'll get burnt out and not finish it. But I hope you enjoyed this. The next chapter should have what I really wanted to talk about which is Oracle!Reader.

Taglist: @vvyeislazzy, @nikqi, @the-dumber-scaramouche, @etherisy, @yourlocalstranger123, @ra404, @iruiji, @goldenglow149, @haru-tofuu, @lsleepysimpl [Edit: This chapter has been updated by my dear editor on 8/19/23]

#yandere genshin impact #whisp's amateur work #yandere genshin x reader #genshin sagau #genshin impact #yandere sagau #genshin impact sagau #sagau #sagau cult au #sagau impostor au #sagau isekai #sagau ei #oracle au #yes I made that up

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onmyyan · 1 year

Note

You know those silly porn plots where the person gets stuck in something and then gets boinked to all heaven. I'm just thinking about Ashley finding a poor darling stuck in between a broken fence while helping out around the farm and can't help himself. I mean yeah sure, you might not get a hand right away but you'll get something better.

I mean darling was going to be sore after helping around anyways. Right? Right.

-🎂

The way I have two similar requests like this for Ashley y'all so nasty I love it TW FOR YANDERE DUBCON Feedback is welcome and appreciated NOT EDITED

"Ash? Is that you?" He hears your sweet voice call out to him from the barn, he takes wide heavy steps to get to you faster, not liking how uneasy you sounded, it was another hot summer day out on the farm and you'd insisted on helping him out with his chores so he could be done sooner, acts of kindness like that are part of the reason Ashley fell for you in the first place, as of right now he was just your good friend and neighbor, but he so desperately needed more from you, he years to cross that line and push your relationship where it's meant to be, he was a good, honest man, he helped everyone he came across and he just wanted you, the universe seems to agree, blessing him with quite the sight this fateful afternoon.

You've somehow managed to wedge your plump body between the pen of one of his more rowdy sheep, Betty.

He watches you hungrily, blue eyes trained on your perfect ass, his hands balled into fists as he watches it jiggle, wiggling back and forth as you tried to squirm out of your predicament, your tank top had been caught on a nail when you'd gotten stuck chasing Betty out of harm's way, the dirtied white shirt lay in scraps around your waist as your bare, soft looking back arched in a way that had all his blood rush south, his dick stirring in his jeans as he coughed, alerting you to his presence.

"You alright there sweatpea?" He asks, shamelessly eyeing the curves of your body, the way your thick thighs pressed together as you fruitlessly struggled, you laughed, he could tell you were embarrassed, "Oh thank God Ash! Betty gave me the runaround and I managed to get stuck in here, can you help me?" You giggle at your own clumsiness but Ash doesn't have it in him to laugh, his brain wracked with images of you, none of them platonic, he doesn't respond for a second, unable to speak as he furrowed his brow, his cock straining painfully against the front of his jeans.

He's trembling in place as his pent up desire and longing for you came to a head, he couldn't get his mind off the lewd scenarios playing behind his eyes, he swallows thickly, sweat beading down his brow as he begins to pant.

"You hurt?" He manages to ask, stepping close enough where you could feel the fabric of his pants, his large frame hovering above you, "No, I'm okay, just completely embarrassed." You laugh it off breath hitching when you hear him drop to his knees behind you, you can hear his breath pick up a bit, his voice heavy with something dark, something that had your thighs clenched together.

"Thats good.." he trails off, "Real good." He swallowed audibly before placing his hot, big hands on the meat of your round hips, squeezing the flesh experimentally, "I'ma get you outta' here just hold steady..." he trails off as if in a trance, his hands pawing at your short clad hips, as if he was trying to find the best angle. "That's it, be still f'me." He grunts out softly before tugging you backwards by your hips, his eyes roll back at the sweet, surprised mewl that leaves you, "Woah- hold on-" you say beyond flustered as you felt his intimate hold, your hands gripping at the stray pieces of hay on the inside of the pen, he was just trying to help, but the way he felt against you, the tremble in his voice, how electricity ran up your body from where his hands firmly gripped you, it had your face burning hot and your breath quickening.

"Gotta try and pull you out suga'." He says, his tongue poking out in concentration, he repeats his actions, pulling your thinly clothed core directly on his aching cock, this time he gives a slight grind, huffing at the whimpers it draws from you. "You really got yourself in a jam there didn't ya' sweetie?" He says sounding more flustered than you,

"Uh-um Ashley? What are you doing?" You manage to utter out through your fluster, your voice having a slight whine as you felt him grind his massive hard on into you, your brain was still trying to rationalize his actions, surly the modern cowboy wasn't taking this chance to rut against you like an animal in heat.

You felt him nip at your exposed back playfully, he leaned as close as he could, tugging you back faster, humping against your ass like a teenager who couldn't contain themselves, "Little minx," he growls against your skin, abandoning any pretense of helping you, "if you wanted to drive me wild you didn't have to go so far as to get your pretty," he rolls his hips with a grunt, "-tempting, little body so nice and stuck f'me." He chuckles darkly as you buck and mewl against him, the friction absolutely delicious as he grinded against you, panting and sweaty, his cock begins to leak pre against his jeans as he huffs and grunts like a wild animal.

"I di-didn't! I swear!" You tried to defend yourself but it fell on flat ears as he only pulled you into him harder, the seam on your jean shorts dug into your clit with everyone thrust.

He stops his motion, you open your mouth, confusion on your face when he's suddenly hooks his fingers around the band and yanks your shorts and panties down to your knees in one quick move, he wastes no time burying his face in your slick folds, moaning obscenely as he finally gets to taste you, he inhales deeply shuddering at your delectable scent, god how he'd dreamed of this exact moment, you taste better than he'd ever imagined, he shakes his head shoving his large tongue as deep inside your twitching hole as he could, his big hands spread your ass cheeks apart, giving him more room to feast, he moans into your trembling pussy, lapping at your honeyed essence like a man starved, your cries of surprise and pleasure had him rutting against nothing, desperate for some relief for his aching cock.

"Fuck!- oh shit Ashley wait- hold on-" he ignores your pleas, almost feral for the nectar gushing down his throat, he didn't stop until you were dripping down his chin, moaning almost as loud as you as he pulls away with a pop, you can't see his face but he looks positively debauched, his tan skin red and drenched in your sweet cum, his hair sweaty and sticking to his forehead, his pupils blown wide with lust, only a thin ring of blue left as he drank in the sight of your still twitching pussy.

"There we go, good girl." He praises kissing up your thighs and back, you heard the telltale sound of a belt buckle being undone as he moves with certainty. "Keep still for me now." He says under his breath, slicking up his fat cock with spit, he gives no warning before pushing the weeping head past the tight ring of your entrance, the growl that leaves him is drowned out by your loud cry, he was spreading you so much and it was just the tip! You fisted the hay before you, whining as he grabs your hips again, "Ease up now- there we go, relax baby, it'll fit." The words do the opposite of reassure you as he presses forward, pulling you back onto him with a lewd squelch, he moans loudly as you sink down to his balls, his abdomen tightens, clenching at the molten heat from your cunt, the way you wrapped around him , how your body seemed to shape around his massive girth, he gave a choppy breath, groaning as he began to pound into you, the force of his thrusts shaking the pen so hard you feared it would break.

He was like a man possessed, growling and biting at any skin he could, his balls slapped against your gushing pussy with every one of his brutal thrusts, "Take this dick, take this fuckin' dick sweet thing" he grunts against your skin, his pace now so hard it knocked the breath from your lungs, you weep against the barns dirty floor as he sends you hurdling off the cliff straight into the abyss, your eyes clam shut as you're forced to take every inch of him, you feel him pulsing inside you as he breathes raggedly, "Fuck- oh fuck that's it baby, cum on this dick." He spews the filth as he moves a hand from your hip to rub fast little circles on your swollen clit, you come all over his cock, squirting around him so hard it drenches his blue jeans dark, with a deep growl of your name he reaches his own high, shooting hot load after load into your womb, his whine makes you clench around him, the sounds of your hard panting echo throughout the barn. With a simple move Ashley moves the pen and gently pulls you from your position, finally freeing you, he held your back to his still heaving chest, holding your fucked out form close to him, with a happy sigh he leans against the wall of the barn, your barley conscious form curls into his warm chest, he tilts his hat over his eyes and holds you close, allowing himself a moment of rest before he fucked you good and proper.

#yananswers #anon submission #yandere #yandere x reader #Ashley Hunt #Ashley Hunt x reader #Onmyyan OC's #thirsty Thursdays #tw dubcon #yandere smut

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bealovesmarauders · 1 year

Text

paper rings // gilbert blythe

or,

the 4 times gilbert blythe fell in love with you, and the 1 time he knew he’d do it all over again

⋆ ࣪. ⁺⑅ ⋰˚ *.ﾟ .˳⁺⁎˚ ˚⁎⁺˳ . ༺ ˖

gilbert blythe x fem!reader

wc: 5.7k

i like shiny things, but i’d marry you with paper rings

a/n: trying something new here! i’ve never used this format (five times // one time- i tweaked it to make it four and one since i’m exhausted) so i hope you all enjoy <3 also fair warning that this is not historically accurate. but i actually spend my summers in PEI (and have for my entire life) so i think my portrayal of the environment at least is good! also, this is rushed as per usual :)

⋆ ࣪. ⁺⑅ ⋰˚ *.ﾟ .˳⁺⁎˚ ˚⁎⁺˳ . ༺ ˖

one. when he walked you home from school.

the late june air was sticky in the avonlea schoolhouse, clinging to skin, beads of sweat gathering by brows. sunlight spilled through the windows, and even billy andrews couldn’t muster enough enthusiasm to tease anyone in this heat. pinafores too heavy for this weather, the girls gathered in one corner, pretending to read the excerpt mr phillips had picked out for today, but in honesty, you were all just complaining about the summer heat.

“i can’t wait until i have my hair up,” ruby gillis sighed, casting a longing glance across the room towards the boys. “my ribbon does suit my complexion, of course- but it’s much too hot in summer to have my hair down.”

murmurs of agreement spread throughout your little group. “i tried it one time,” whispered anne dramatically, “when marilla was away. it was rather romantic, but the pins hurt a great deal.”

sitting in between jane andrews and tillie boulter, you tried not to zone out. gaze drifting across the classroom, you caught gilbert blythe’s eye from where he was sitting with the boys, and he shot you a quick smile. you gave him a shy one back, and looked away before you could blush. you’d known gilbert forever- his family was close to yours- but something had changed recently, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

mr. phillips finally dismissed the class, and in a rush of rowdiness, the boys all excused themselves from the schoolhouse, whooping and hollering about a potential skinny dip in the wild waves. in a flurry of giggles and secrets, your friends gathered their books and rushed outside (in a rather unladylike manner- but it was summer and the world was their oyster, so who cared). you knew diana was hosting a tea party over the weekend- complete with ice cream, she’d said!- but as far as you knew, there were no plans for tonight, save the beach trip the boys had talked about. trying your best to avoid the heat for as long as possible, you lingered in the coatroom, taking the time to adjust your hat into place. but you weren’t alone, and you startled as a familiar face appeared over your shoulder.

“gilbert,” you said, his name sweet on your tongue. “you’re not going to the beach with billy?”

he shook his head. “i’m not quite in the mood for that today. but i was wondering. do you want- can i- would you like some company on your walk home?”

heart in your throat, you looked at the boy you’d known your whole life. was gilbert blythe asking to walk you home? you nodded wordlessly, and his eyes immediately softened. there was a nervousness you’d never seen in him before, a cautiousness, as if he were treading on eggshells and was terrified to break them. “i- i’d love that, gilbert, thank you.” a smile slowly spread across his face, and you seemed to see him in a new light. noticing the things you hadn’t before. the softness of his dark eyes and the way they sparkled. the gentle curve of his jaw. the way he smelled like rosemary and mint soap and the blythe farm’s apple orchard, mixed with a hint of cinnamon. the way gilbert blythe was the prettiest boy you’d ever seen.

“great,” he said, finally breaking you out of your reverie. “i wouldn’t want you to get heatstroke, after all. it’d be ungentlemanly of me to let you go home without making sure you’re alright in this heat.”

your stomach erupted with butterflies, and you walked in silence with him as you left the schoolhouse. treading along the path, your footsteps settled into the same rhythm, and eventually gilbert spoke, his voice clear among the songbirds and crickets.

“how’s your family? i haven’t seen them in a fortnight.”

his tone was proper and gentlemanly, but curious and kind. you looked shyly up at him. gilbert was tall, taller than you, sturdy with broad shoulders and a grin that showed off a lopsided roguishness once in a while on his otherwise serious face. you gripped your books a little tighter, trying to focus your thoughts back to the conversation. “they’re good, thanks for asking. mother’s been wondering about you, though. she’s wanted to drop soup off for your father, but wasn’t sure if he’d appreciate it. it’s been a while since you were over, so she doesn’t know if he still likes biscuits or bone broth.”

gilbert scuffed the ground with his boot a little bit, looking down at you contemplatively. “that’s kind of her,” he said. “he’s barely been able to keep anything down, but he likes soup. i’m not sure about the biscuits, but i’d certainly like some. i wouldn’t mind some of your mother’s plum preserves either. i haven’t had much time to go into town for food lately.”

you’d noticed. there were shadows under his eyes, and he’d always been on the lanky side, but since gilbert had taken on more of the farm work you’d observed his cheeks grow more drawn. his muscles had grown, too- another result of all the wood chopping you knew he was doing- but he lacked energy, and your heart ached for the boy. cicadas chirped as you walked in unison through the path, minding the garden snakes slinking through the tall grass, and an idea sparked in your mind as you passed the field signaling close to home.

“gilbert,” you said thoughtfully, stopping in your tracks. “mother was going to make a layer cake today, with raspberry preserves and clotted cream. i’m sure it’s cooled by now. we can have a little picnic, you and i- we have lemonade at home too, that rachel lynde brought us, and father thinks it’s too tart, so he wants to get rid of it. you can bring some home for your father as well. mother wouldn’t mind, i promise- i can make us a picnic basket, and we can sit in that field.”

gilbert turned towards you, and you couldn’t quite decipher the expression on his face. “i don’t want you to pity me,” he said quietly. “much less drag your family into it.”

“no, no,” you said quickly, fearing he’d interpreted your invitation the wrong way. “just a picnic, to catch up, as friends. we haven’t talked in a while. i miss you.”

he bit his lip. you could almost see the gears turning in his head. “alright,” he said finally. “it’s almost summer, after all. i think- i think i’d like that.”

when you reached your house, your mother was more than happy to oblige, giving gilbert a big hug and fussing over how much taller he’d gotten since the last time she saw him. you cut two pieces of cake and put them on plates in the straw picnic basket along with the bottle of mrs. lynde’s infamous lemonade. your mother even let you bring the crystal glasses used for special occasions- she trusted the both of you well enough to know that you wouldn’t break them. covering up the basket with a red checkered tablecloth, you and gilbert set off again, waving goodbye to your mother and finding a spot in the field where there was a tree with enough shade to sit under. clover and goldenrod and cornstalk bloomed in the field, and the cool, sweet grass tickled the bottom of your dress. gilbert, beside you, leaned back against the tree, his broad shoulder touching yours, and spooned a large amount of cake into his mouth. it was the happiest you’d seen him in months. the thin layer of ruby jelly in between the vanilla layers coloured the cupid’s bow of your lips, and gilbert realized in that moment that he wanted very badly to take you into his arms and kiss you. but the moment was fleeting, and gilbert was left with the idea of love lingering on his mind.

that was the first time gilbert blythe realized he was falling for you.

two. when you showed up on his doorstep in the rain.

rain poured outside, streaking the windows and trickling down the roofs of avonlea’s houses. sorrow hung in the air, and black clothing had dominated the church the day prior. it was not often that avonlea had funerals, and when they were, they were a somber affair, impacting every one of its citizens. especially now. it seemed as though the whole world had watched mr. blythe’s casket descend into the soil, and now the rain was fertilizing it. perhaps flowers would bloom on top of his grave. the entirety of the little town hoped so- anything to bring comfort to the blythe’s only son.

you’d seen gilbert at the funeral, features etched with sorrow, tears brimming at the corners of his eyes. but he’d looked resigned as well- putting on a strong face for those who could not. ruby had sobbed hysterically, as had rachel lynde, and even marilla cuthbert had shed a tear. normally, you would have talked to gilbert. you’d been over the day before mr. blythe had died, bringing with you a sweater you and your mother had knit together to help keep him warm. you’d known his health was declining, but it was even more heart wrenching seeing gilbert that way- expression unmoving, body stiff as he accepted the gift. you’d only had a moment with him before mr. blythe erupted into coughs again- a second in which gilbert’s mask slipped and you truly saw the fear plaguing his mind. you’d wished you could have said something to make it all better. but you hadn’t. you couldn’t.

and now you were on his porch, clutching a package of baking soda biscuits and a small posy of forget-me-nots in your hands. you were shivering from the cold rain, and you’d gotten soaked on the way over, but it was worth it. there seemed to be barely any movement in the gray house- you couldn’t spot any candles lit inside from the windows- and you were wondering if gilbert was even here when all of a sudden the door swung open and he appeared.

his expression was unreadable, brown eyes deep with emotion and seeded in sadness. “hi,” he said. “gil,” you breathed back.

after a moment of silence, the words came back to you. “these are for you,” you said, reaching out. your hands were shaking, and whether they were from nerves or the cold, gilbert couldn’t tell. he took the flowers and the parcel from your outstretched hands, almost unsure what to do with them. “they’re biscuits,” you said, mouth dry, trying to fill the quiet. “mother’s baking soda ones. you mentioned you liked them one time, and we were out of plum preserves, but i-”

“thank you,” gilbert said, and although it sounded slightly robotic, his words felt genuine. you looked at your shoes, unsure of what to say next. your parents had always taught you to say “i’m sorry for your loss” to someone grieving, but the phrase felt too unfamiliar. “i- i’ll leave you to it, then,” you stuttered, backing away from the door and turning to go. you didn’t want to intrude- even if he was your friend. because that’s what you were, right? friends. friends visited during difficult times. friends didn’t want to hug all the sadness out of him. but gilbert’s voice cracked when he spoke next, and you turned around.

“no,” he said clumsily. the words are rushed and jumbled from his mouth, and he stumbles over the next ones too. “please. you’re freezing, and soaking wet. come in.”

up until then, you’d hoped you didn’t look that bad. your straw hat had managed to protect the top of your head, but the rest of your hair was stringy and dripping over your shoulders. your cheeks were also flushed, and even in what should have been a moment focused on his own grief, gilbert found himself worrying that you’d catch pneumonia in this weather. he hadn’t expected anyone to visit today, especially not in a rainstorm.

seeing the concern in his eyes, you realized that walking all the way home in a thunderstorm was probably not such a good idea, so you stepped in cautiously per gilbert’s invitation. the house was warm, but everything seemed dim and gray. the door you knew led to mr. blythe’s bedroom was closed, and you could see gilbert’s eyes darting towards it as well, as if he were praying you wouldn’t say anything. gilbert set down the parcel of biscuits on the kitchen table and looked around for something.

“do you have a vase?” you asked quietly. “i can fill it up with water for you. i thought the forget-me-nots would bring a little light.”

gilbert nodded, but sucked in a breath. you turned to him with a questioning look. “the vase,” he said, voice dry. “it’s in his room. mrs. lynde brought some peonies over while he was still sick, and i didn’t take them out. he’s always hated peonies- he thinks they’re too big and bold. but he would’ve loved these.”

you lightly touched the small forget me not bouquet, felt the soft petals under your fingertips. “you don’t have to use a vase,” you replied softly. “a mug will do.” gilbert stood motionless in the middle of the kitchen, and you maneuvered around him, carefully filling up the pottery with water and placing the flowers in it.

he seemed rooted to the floor, even when he focused his gaze on the posy. your glance met his, and the sorrow was evident. gilbert hadn’t cried at the funeral- you’d never seen him cry. but now tears were brimming at the corners of his soft chocolate eyes, threatening to spill over, and in a moment your body overtook your mind and you had wrapped your arms around gilbert in a hug.

for a moment you regretted it. but then he was hugging you back, clutching your arms, holding onto you as if you were his lifeline. and in a way, you were. you could feel his hot breath on the back of your neck, hear his muffled cries. due to his height, your face was nestled in the crook of gilbert’s neck, and the two of you stayed like that, intertwined, for several long moments.

when gilbert finally pulled away, he knew that for better or for worse, you would be there for him until the day he died.

three. when you exchanged christmas presents in the snow.

to be honest, you hadn’t expected gilbert to come back from the steamer, or trinidad. you’d kept in close correspondence with him, saving the letters he sent you in a special drawer in your writing desk. you memorized his handwriting- the candid tone recalling his tales- the stamps on the envelope. but it still came as a surprise when he’d arrived back.

everything had been awkward at the start, but as soon as gilbert told you all the tales of his travels, you’d slowly slipped back into your old dynamic. there was still a line the both of you were toeing, trying to test out the boundaries between platonic and whatever the two of you were. when you’d met bash, he’d given you a quick wink and told you he’d heard all about you, but other than that, you were positive gilbert just wanted to stay friends. “he can’t love me,” you’d told the avonlea girls a few days prior. “the letters didn’t mean anything, he was just lonely.” but all of them agreed, even ruby- who had been zoning in on moody spurgeon ever since gilbert had left- that there was something more in his words, that it wasn’t all in your head.

and now it was christmas. gilbert, bash, and the shirley-cuthberts had all come for dinner (you’d grown close to anne the past year, and it had taken some convincing but since your father knew matthew so well, marilla had deemed it acceptable). the dinner had been lovely- your mother had brought out all the stops for gilbert and bash- roast goose, scalloped potatoes (island ones, of course), cranberry jelly, chicken pie, spiced gingerbread. flames crackled in the fireplace, biting gusts of wind rattled the windows, and blurred glittery ornaments adorned the pine tree in the center of your living room. dinner was over now, and the adults were gathered around the table and swapping stories of old. anne was there too, heavily engaged in a discussion with bash, but the social aspect was getting to be somewhat exhausting, so you quietly slipped out the back door to have a few moments alone.

in a rather unladylike fashion, you got up and sat on the fence by your house, snowflakes tickling your nose, watching the sun slowly begin to set. hues of pink and orange tinged the sky, and you were surprised you could even see it right now- the weather suggested a cloudy sky. the sound of snow crunching came from behind you, and to your surprise, gilbert was coming towards you. he had his brown cap and his red flannel on, and he looked so cozy that you somehow wished you were cuddled up in his arms. pushing the thought away, you greeted him as he came to sit on the fence beside you.

“enjoying the night so far?”

“quite,” gilbert replied. there was a sparkle in his eyes that danced, one that had been noticeably absent since his father died. you suspected it had something to do with bash’s uncle-like presence, and maybe anne’s too- it was well rumored that he’d fancied her for a while when they’d first met. gilbert looked off into the sunset, puffs of his breath materializing in the cold air, and you shivered involuntarily. he offered you his wool mittens wordlessly, and you gratefully put them on, although they were too big for you.

“oh,” you said, remembering something. he turned towards you, watching you intently as you pulled out a small package from your coat pocket. it was wrapped in festive paper, and you’d written his name on it in swooping calligraphy.

“for me?” gilbert asked. he carefully unfurled the wrapping paper to reveal a small leather bound book embossed with “the complete illustrated medical dictionary (pocket edition)” on the front. “i’ve had it since you left,” you said, breath catching in your throat. “i kept it for you. all this time.”

genuine joy shone in gilbert’s eyes. he flipped through the pages delightedly, marveling at the drawings inside. “thank you,” he grinned. “i actually have something for you too.”

breathlessly, you awaited your gift, snowflakes fluttering down and landing on you. they decorated your hair and its festive ribbon for one fleeting moment before melting, and you swore there was nothing as beautiful as this moment, exchanging gifts with gilbert in the snow, watching the sunset sweep across the dove-gray sky. finally, gilbert found what he was looking for in his pocket, and produced a tiny box.

“it doesn’t look like much,” he warned, “but i found it on my travels. i was waiting to give it to you. i wanted it to be the perfect moment.”

carefully opening the small box, you gasped as the lid revealed a necklace with a pendant. a small silver locket shaped like a heart, the kind one could put a photograph in. “gilbert,” you breathed. “this is- this is beautiful.”

and it was. the locket lay on a delicate chain, and it was engraved intricately, with elaborate designs. your mittened hands fumbled to take it out of the box and inspect it more, but gilbert took it from you with a small smile. “let me help you,” he murmured, and made to fasten it on you. you stood still, hyper aware of how close gilbert’s hands were to your face. his fingers brushed against the back of your neck, securing the necklace, and you caught yourself from flinching. you didn’t know what to say, except for thank you, so you repeated yourself again.

“a thing of beauty is a joy forever,” gilbert quoted, somewhat uncharacteristically. “keats,” he added after a moment, referencing the poet he’d read the phrase from. “i wanted you to have something to remember me by.”

“to remember you by?” you laughed. “what, are you going on the steamer again?”

he could tell the thought sobered you, so he shook his head, shrugging. “no. i just think…you’re a wonderful girl. the loveliest in avonlea.”

“i think you’re wonderful too,” you said shyly, which was about as many words as you could manage right now. the loveliest girl in avonlea? goodness.

the sun had almost set by now, and the sky was turning dark- a good cover for hiding the red tint spreading across your face. “we should go back inside,” you said hurriedly, and the two of you made your way over to the door. you stopped before opening it, basking in the glow of the oil lamp on the porch.

“gilbert, i-”

overcome by sudden anxiety, you handed back his warm mittens. “thank you,” you said, the words lingering on your tongue. “for everything.”

quickly, so fast you almost missed it, gilbert leaned down, brushed a stray wisp of hair away, and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “merry christmas,” he said simply. and then, the two of you went back inside, as if nothing had happened at all.

as soon as you entered, bash noticed the locket and smirked. gilbert shot him a warning look, lest he say anything. the two of you immersed yourself in separate conversations- you with anne, him with marilla and your mother, while matthew silently observed your father and bash discuss politics. but you kept stealing glances at each other as if you were speaking a secret language that only the two of you knew, and each time it filled you with comfort.

it was a cold christmas, but you felt the warmest you had been in a while– and, as luck would have it, so did gilbert.

four. when you climbed a tree.

and so summer rolled around again, fading into august. university loomed on the horizon. childhood was over- gone were the days of butterflies, bumblebees, and scraped knees. yet you could pretend, and so you did.

the soft salt breeze tickled your face, sending a pleasant feeling down your spine. you were with gilbert- on his farm, in the orchard. it was just the two of you- most of avonlea were in charlottetown for the island county fair, granting you the opportunity to do whatever you wanted, since no one was around to see.

so you took advantage of that. no more were the stolen glances, the sneaking around, your only physical touch with gilbert being brushed hands- and even then you’d both deemed it risky. neither of you wanted word to get around yet. sure, there had been rumors and some of your best friends knew (only the ones you were sure wouldn’t spread anything around). but here, now, the world was your oyster. and the two of you soaked it up blissfully.

you were lying on the grass with your head in gilbert’s lap, weaving a flower crown as he read a book- an old poetry collection ms stacy had lent him. the clouds were glorious fluffy shapes in the blue sky, and you pointed them out to gilbert every once in a while. your fingers deftly twined the daisies and their stems, finally tying them all together in a knot, creating a perfect circlet, and setting it teasingly on gilbert’s dark hair.

he smirked, leaving it on. “made it for me?”

“a pretty crown for a pretty boy,” you replied, smiling from your position in his lap. he was solid, sturdy, his hand resting securely on your waist. you felt safe with your body close to his, arms and legs intertwined. and he was pretty- “the prettiest boy in avonlea,” you said, mimicking his words to you from last christmas. he laughed and set the book down, taking the flower crown off and resting it gently on your hair. “it suits you,” gilbert said softly, and he was right.

the two of you stayed like that for a while, absorbing each other’s presence. you charted the rare freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose as if they were constellations, tracing them with the tip of your finger. it tickled him, and he smiled down at you. he finally returned to his book- “i want to read you something”- and blissfully, you obliged, settling down to listen.

“i almost wish we were butterflies and lived but three summer days- three such days with you i could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain,” gilbert read from the poetry collection in his lap, a break from the constant medical anatomy books he was usually seen carrying around. you recognized the fragment of poetry- “keats,” you said, “just like what you said to me last winter. when you gave me the necklace.”

a smile tugged at gilbert’s lips, and you pulled out the locket from under the neckline of your dress to show him. “i’ll never take it off,” you promised him, right then and there. “it’s like a little piece of you with me, all the time.”

“you better not,” he teased. “cost me a fortune, that one. even more than all of those romance books i’m always secretly buying you in town.”

you sat up and shoved him jokingly, tousling his dark curls to purposely peeve him. gilbert’s hair wasn’t tidy all that often, but he’d let it slip once that he always tried to make it look nice for you. struck by a sudden flash of inspiration, you jumped up. “let’s go pick some apples.”

the blythe orchard was infamous for their strawberry apples, the only place in avonlea where they were available. contrary to popular belief, this was simply a variant of apple, and not a strawberry hybrid. all too happy to appease you, gilbert took your hand and led you to the best tree on the land. most of the other boughs were still blooming with apple blossoms, but this tree was different.

he pointed to a low-hanging branch, one blessed with red fruit. “my father always picked the first apple on this tree in august,” he told you, tone contemplative and wistful. “he said this was the tree he kissed my mother under for the first time. he thought if the first apple of the season was picked here, at this tree, it brought the harvest luck.”

nostalgia flickered in gilbert’s eyes, and you knew he was missing his father more than usual. “let’s do it, then,” you said, finding your voice, fingers delicately intertwined with his- giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “we’ll each pick one. in honor of him. a new tradition.”

the words you’d spoken may have been simplistic, but to gilbert they meant the world. without his father, it had been so incredibly difficult at first to do anything- carry on old traditions, much less creating new ones. but here you were, by his side, looking up at him with adoring eyes, and giving him the opportunity to heal and grow. gilbert knew he could never put into words how much it truly meant to him.

you let him go first, watching him scamper up the tree like a squirrel. he seemed a boy again, plucking an apple from the highest bough and descending nimbly. when you started climbing, you found your footing easily, but doubt wracked your mind- imagine the horrors if mrs. lynde and her posse heard about this, climbing trees like a chimpanzee! - and so you opted for a lower branch, reaching it deftly. you reached for an apple and held it high victoriously. some hint of pride shone in gilbert’s eyes.

“to making new traditions,” he said- a toast with the notable absence of glasses brimming with champagne. “to making new traditions,” you repeated, and in that moment, you in the tree and him on the ground, you swore you could see hints of a future- one with new traditions and old traditions, little feet running around and everything in between. today was flawless.

and it would’ve been perfect, except for the sound of the branch cracking under your weight. you weren’t too high up in the tree, but inevitably, you landed on the ground, a crumpled heap of petticoats and ribbons, crying out softly upon impact.

you’d never seen gilbert this way, in ‘doctor mode’, simply put. he was immediately beside you, voice laced with concern, checking you over for scrapes and bruises. you were fine, mostly- just a little shaken up and scared, save for the red-hot throbbing in your wrist. the pain didn’t exactly warrant crying, but you weren’t used to the funny feeling, and tears welled in your waterline anyways. gilbert, telling you to take deep breaths, helped you sit up.

he’d noticed straightaway the way you held you wrist, cradling it slightly away from your body, and murmuring words of comfort, he started prodding your knuckles, gently examining the swollen area. you winced, but it wasn’t too bad. “i don’t think it’s broken,” gilbert said finally, deeming it a sprain after careful inspection. “but let’s get you back home. i have some bandages- i’ll wrap it just in case.”

tears threatened to spill over again as the two of you walked from the orchard to his home. gilbert noticed, and stopped. “hey,” he said softly. “it’s okay. i’ll make you some herbal tea. that should help with the pain a bit.”

“it’s not that,” you made out, a small pout forming on your lips. “we were having such a wonderful day, gil, and i ruined it all. i’m sorry.”

“whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said, his brow furrowing. “you didn’t ruin anything. you got hurt, it happens. and we have the rest of the afternoon to be together- i’ll tell you what, how about once we get back to the farmhouse, we’ll make the most of it, okay? we can still have some fun.”

a wobbly smile formed on your lips, and you nodded. gilbert cupped your face gently, and looked into your eyes. “i love you,” he said, voice nervous but firm. “just let me take care of you.”

your heart caught in your throat. he’d never said that before. contrary to the rumors, he hadn’t even kissed you properly yet. “i love you too,” you whispered, voice hoarse. and before you could think about it too much, you went up on your tiptoes and pressed a small kiss to gilbert’s lips.

they were soft and sweet and filled with promise and hope, and he leaned into it, your bodies closer than they’d ever been. his hands ghosted the small of your back, your hips, your shoulders, and it felt like home. when you finally pulled apart, there was a twinkle in his eye you’d never seen before. a twinkle of something called joy.

when you got back to the farmhouse, he finally settled you on the couch, comfortably sipping a cup of tea and trying wholeheartedly to braid your hair. he’d always wanted to learn, and since you were currently unable to do it yourself, he deemed it the perfect opportunity. it made you laugh- his fingers, usually nimble and clever, were clumsy in your locks, and the braid you ended up with was slightly sloppy, but filled with adoration. a realization fluttered through your mind, and set its claws into your future. you loved gilbert- gilbert loved you- and though you wouldn’t say it out loud, at least not for several years, he would make a wonderful husband.

five. when you said “i do”.

the spring skies were blue today- flowers were blooming- grass was green. “a lovely day for a wedding,” mrs. lynde had told marilla that morning, and all of avonlea agreed.

you were walking down the aisle in a few minutes, getting ready in reverence. a delicate white veil lay on your hair, the one passed down through your family for almost a century. the lace dress fit you perfectly, intricate embroidery accentuating your waist. your mother’s simple pearl earrings adorned your ears, glowing in the morning light. in your hands were a bouquet- a single spray of forget-me-nots, periwinkle blue, an ode to gilbert’s father, who had loved them so. and at the same time, a tribute to your past together, that awful rainy day after the funeral filled with grief and tears and emotion, yet what had brought you closer together. something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue. all was well. you were ready.

the springtime realm of gilbert’s yard was immersed in devotion. petals decorated the grass down the aisle. your dearest friends and family observed, and the wedding itself passed in the blink of an eye. there was not a dry eye during the vows, and gilbert’s words were even more poetic than you had ever hoped. he promised to love you- to care for you- in sickness and in health, to be your rock. it was not the fanciest wedding- there were no messes of tulle and satin and roses- but it was yours, and you couldn’t be happier.

you were husband and wife. the dawn had come anew. and that night, when gilbert fell asleep watching you breathe, finding solace in the rise and fall of your chest, he knew without a doubt that he would do it all over again.

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villainology · 8 months

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i feel like a kid running around with their drawing to show everyone else in the room bc i've already told like 2 other blogs about this scenario i had while i was trying to sleep but can you IMAGINE being a family friend of the sawyers? maybe your grandparents knew theirs before times were tough and cannibalism became their means of survival, and your family's died off and left you the little farmhouse and patch of land a few miles outside of the sawyers' boundaries. drayton's clarified you're off-limits (through some honorary family-friend ideals, or as not to upset grandpa 'cause your folks were always kind to them) and you're none the wiser to their true savagery they get up to (you can hear a scream once or twice, when you drive your dad's old beat up truck near their land sometimes, but you always think they've got really rowdy and funny sounding goats). but you've inherited your family's farmhouse and poor little you just doesn't know anything about farming and fixing up the house! no matter how hard you try, nothing grows, so one uneventful day you drop off some seeds as a gift for drayton since, well, they're not getting any use with you, and you mention a problem that needs fixing. maybe it's a rusty shed door you can't get open, or a busted roof. either way, drayton's always liked to keep up apparances and you haven't had a chance to meet the new additions of the family, so drayton sends johnny back with you (after giving him thorough lecturing about how no, you are NOT a potential victim, you're just a little oblivious, and plus johnny's the most... convincingly normal one out of all of them, arguably) to fix something up for you as thanks for the seeds. so now there's a sweaty, attractive, pretty charming (and maybe a little subtly condescending) guy fixing up something because you hadn't the slightest clue how to fix it, so you might as well make him some lemonade or tea and thank him! and, well, johnny might think you're amusing. pretty sweet, pretty cute, pretty *airheaded*. drayton said you were off-limits for anything violent, of course, but that didn't mean he couldn't test any other limits, right?

aaaah~ no bc wait I think you’re onto something here!! you got me thinking so many filthy thots rn, so I made a lil drabble, hope that’s okay w you? 😭❤️ sjdbdjdndnfnf I hope it’s written okay, I wrote this half asleep in bed but I couldn’t stop thinking abt it!

warnings — slight dub-con, light smut, Johnny being Johnny!

“Here you go, Mr Johnny,” you smiled up the ladder toward him as you walked out with two glasses of lemonade in hand, “where’d ya want it?”

“Just set it down on the table there.” His voice was stern, a tad hint of annoyance laced into it, not that you noticed.

Johnny stood at the top of the ladder, nail in mouth as he hammered another into roof of your porch, closing off the gap which would hopefully stop the rattling noise anytime there was a gust of wind. He slipped the hammer and last few nails into his work belt before looking down at you stood below him, so innocently sipping through the curly straw in your lemonade glass.

The Texan heat wasn’t good for much, but the way it made a light coat of sweat glisten on your body as the sun began to set was enough to make him appreciate the summer weather. Your denim shorts just a little too high up and your white vest top just a little too low, but from where he was stood he got to have the perfect angle down your shirt, and you were none the wiser.

Johnny carefully came down the ladder before picking his glass up off the table, his eyes never once leaving your body. He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself, you really were oblivious, so innocent and air-headed that he wondered how you survived off by yourself all these years before coming back to the farmlands.

The way Drayton sent him out here with you alone, like sending a lamb off to the slaughter — an adorable, pretty little lamb making lemonade for a starving lion. Johnny wondered to himself what you’d think if you found out what they were really like, just how savage and dangerous they were, would you run scared from him, give him chase to hunt you down on acres of land?

“Sorry about you having to come out here, I’ve clearly got a lot to learn about all this type of stuff, huh?” You laughed as you gestured toward the house and the land surrounding it.

Johnny was snapped from his thoughts, a fake little smile crossing his face as he nodded, “don’t sweat it, darlin’, friends helping out friends, ain’t that right?”

He knew that Drayton said you weren’t to be a victim, that you weren’t some prey to be chased and hunted down, butchered just for the hell of it, but what about anything else? After all, this was Drayton’s way of saying thanks to you, but what did Johnny get out of this? Where was his thank you for fixing up your roof free of charge? If you weren’t going to be Johnny’s victim then he’d sure as hell find away for you to give him thanks.

“Say,” he placed his half empty glass down on the table beside him, “you moved back up here all alone, not got a boyfriend following you here?”

“Oh, heh, no. Haven’t had one of those in a long while, Mr Johnny.”

“Huh, well that’s just peachy, darlin’.”

He walked from the table and closer to you, his hand stroking up and down your arm as he worked his way behind you, his warm body pressing up against yours as he leaned down to your ear, “how about a thank you for all my hard work, hm?”

His hand snaked its way around your waist and played with the button of your shorts, his lips grazing across the delicate skin of your neck, gently kisses to distract you from what his hands were doing. Truth be told you didn’t want him to stop, and he could tell. The way you let him unbutton your pants without a fight, his fingers working their way between your legs and tracing a line back and forth against your clothed cunt.

“Mr Johnny, I don’t think—”

“That’s alright, baby, you don’t gotta think,” his free hand wrapped around your throat, tilting your head to the side so he could more easily bite and suck at your skin, “just gotta do whatever I tell you to do.”

After all, Drayton said you couldn’t be slaughtered like he did the others, but he didn’t say anything about Johnny not being able to fuck you til’ you couldn’t walk no more.

#➳ : messages #lambofjudgement #your brain works in wonderous ways sjdbejdnef!!!#I couldn’t stop thinking abt this like??? it’s so hot omg #anything abt johnny got me going FERAL!!#johnny slaughter #johnny slaughter x reader #tcm x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months

Text

A foe most frightful 1

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐬 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐲𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬. 𝐌𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐡𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐤.

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤!𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭. 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲. 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲. 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧. 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐮𝐩𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐃𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐨𝐱!𝐋𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐝 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐰𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐢𝐭, 𝐲'𝐚𝐥𝐥. 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐞, 𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞.

𝐀𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐮𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥, 𝐈 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬! 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐝, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨 𝐈 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤. 𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧. 𝐈’𝐦 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞.

𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 (𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐖𝐢𝐏𝐬, 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧’𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞!)

𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐲. 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞. 💖

A carriage rattles by as you pull Altun out of its path. The boy is the second youngest in your charge, a rowdy rabble bunching around you with hopping and vibrant chittering. Your siblings, six in all, hang off of your skirts as you carry a basket in one arm and Adela on your other hip. Marcella, nine-years old and quiet walks ahead of you, shoulders low as she trods grimly towards the sweltering horizon.

Beyond, the village awaits you. You are to barter at the market for some wool and grain, and several other things your mother listed as wanted but not required. She also warned you not to stay too long even if the sun may linger.

As you press on, the early summer beating down on your swarm, Rowena, only just three, tugs on your dress and whines. You tell Sidney, the second eldest to you, to take your skin and give her some water. Milo, Marcella’s twin, asks for a drink too.

The noise of horse hooves hammers in the distance, an unusually fleet pace that bears down on the party of the children. You move further onto the grass, withered yellow patches burnt where the sunlight beams most hotly. Your siblings sidle along with you, Milo craning to see the approaching cacophony.

A train of horses dressed in livery approaches. You glance over your shoulders as the children are distracted and stop in their tracks to watch. You turn as Adela’s eyes round at the jostling noblemen in their saddles. How odd, you don’t know you’ve ever seen Duke Hansen's men outside the fair days.

The group is headed by two young pages, their haircut short in the current style, not shanky or scraggly like the men and boys on the farm. Then older men in dyed vests, their sleeves bloused in a most fashionable way. At the centre is a man sat high on a warhorse, its limbs and rump nearly twice as wide as the rest.

The man’s silver hair shines in the summer hue, the sides of his head shorn close in a warrior’s cut, and a trim of hair across his lip. His blue eyes are dark even in the bright morning and he wears an overcoat with a high-collar unsuited to the season. On his breast is the Duke’s crest, a dragon with its tail curve in a perfect arch around its body.

As you try to quiet your siblings and keep them from wandering underfoot, your gaze meets that of the party’s centerpiece; the man with the silver hair and stony jaw. You almost gasp, quickly retracting your gawking eyes. It isn’t proper to stare at a man of his stature.

Adela covers her ears as the clomping of hooves grows discordant. She starts to whine and you hug her closer in an effort to calm her. The men do not slow, they do not stop, as they barrel by upon a mission. You stare after the horse tails, another four men at the rear.

Milo lets out a noise of awe and the children begin to chatter about the knights and their pages. You smile to humour them but your curiosity is much more sober. Your parents always warn to be weary of the rich.

The basket grows heavy so you hand Adela to Marcella as you come across the plateau right before the village. You cross the wooden bridge as the furor of the market roils in the air. You pass the stables near the cobbler's stead and enter the square where booths are set up with wares as sellers holler about their goods.

The crowd clusters to one side as marketgoers are distracted from their bartering by the men striding along the stalls. The nobles in their coloured cloth peruse the lengths of woven wool and the handcrafted figurines. Milo stares and you tug on his sleeve.

“Stay close,” you bid your sibling, “we need eggs and wool, yes?”

“I want to see his sword!” Milo proclaims and Altun agrees giddily. Before they can run off, Sidney herds them back to you.

“Don't! They are knights,” she hisses as she holds them by the wrists.

“Row,” Marcella calls as the little girl dawdles across the dirt. The elder sibling can do little as she holds the youngest in her arms.

“Rowena,” you cry out and follow her, hanging the basket from your arm as you give chase.

Before you can reach her, she is amidst the men, barely able to escape their treads. You bend and scoop her up, an arm hooked around her as she wriggles and fusses. She shrieks in your ear as you try to escape unnoticed.

You turn to flee but stumble back as a figure blocks your path. The man with the soldier's hair and the badge sewn across his chest. You gulp and your eyes flit past him to the rest of your clan, huddled together as they watch agape.

“Sir,” you keep your chin down, “apologies, I did not mean to impede–”

“That would be ‘your grace’,” he corrects you, “though I can assume you don't oft entertain dukes. Likely the farmers in their hay by the looks of your brood.”

“P-pardon, your grace,” you eke out as Rowena continues to squirm and you fight to keep your hold on her.

“Yes, pardon, run along before that thing should dribble onto my coat,” he sneers.

You wince and bend your knees slightly, trying to curtsy but are unused to the gesture. You clumsily sidle past him and go back to your brothers and sisters. You shove Rowena at Milo and wiggle your nose. It isn't the man's words so much as his assumptions that sting.

“Come,” you bid the children and point them to the stall with a pen of hens clucking around it, “we will fetch some eggs.”

Sidney steps up next to you as the others follow behind, “was that knight very mad?”

“Duke,” you swallow dryly, “that is the duke and he was not very kind, no.”

“Duke…I thought…”

“Perhaps he is retired from the battlefield, or there is no war to be fought,” you shrug, “it hardly matters, sister, let us stay clear of him.”

“That is what Jeremy says,” she counters, “his brother lost a hand when a hunting dog went missing.”

“Oh my,” you murmur.

“Particularly cruel with how little the duke is in house to seek game,” she shakes her head.

“Yes, well, we shouldn't trouble him or ourselves,” you gird, “mother wants a wooden spoon if we can have one at a good bargain.”

🏰

You have your eggs, your wool, the wooden spoon, and even some goat cheese to take home to your mother. Rowena sleeps in Sidney's arms as Adela snores in yours. Marcella and Milo carry the basket between them, and Altun clings to your skirt as he drags his feet. It's a far walk back to your family's plot but it must be done before night falls.

As you set off, the sun begins its slow descent. The village is still in its throes as those more local continue their barter and some begin to sink into their cups. Your back aches and your soles throb. It's not a pain you haven't bore before. It is much better a journey to town than a day in the field.

Further down the road, you stop to sit for a while. The summer has the days stretching longer. You share a truncheon of bread among you, even the children saying little as they chew. Up again, you take Rowena and let her have the lighter toddler for the last leg of the trip. As you begin anew, hooves once more pound the ground, shaking it like thunder as they approach.

You step into the divet of grass that runs parallel to the beaten road. It is no farmer's cart but the nobles upon their return to the castle.

As they pass, a soft tomato splatters across Sidney and Adela, tossed by the riding men. She cries out as Adela wakes and begins to sob. You hush them as the horses trot unbothered ahead of you. You stop once more, this time to help your sisters get clean. A sickly red stain remains on Sidney's wool dress and Adela's hair is flecked with gooey seeds.

"That was mean," Marcella pouts.

"Be happy you were not the one hit," Sidney snaps then turns on you, "you did not lie, sister, when you said they were unkind."

"Perhaps they didn't see us," you murmur, "no matter being upset. We have some way to go."

"Ugh, you are too meek," Sidney remands, "if they'd let their horses trod over us, you'd say it was our fault."

"Not at all, sister, but what can we do? The duke owns father's plot, he pays for the land we till and the scythe, he makes sure we have what little we do."

"Oh, valiant knight," she drawls dryly.

"And he's got a big sword!" Altun proclaims.

"That too," you tilt your head at Sidney, giving your brother's innocent fascination another gleam of meaning.

Sidney rolls her eyes and hitches Adela higher, turning down the road ahead of you. You let her lead as the twins pick the basket up again and you bring up the rear with Altun and Rowena. The boy is the only one with the energy to bounce with his steps.

You hear hooves again but not from behind you. It is rather late for any to be coming to market just then. You look ahead and see two horses. You squint as your siblings' heads perk up in curiosity. It is the nobles, not all of them, only two. A page and the silver-haired duke, lazily cantering in your direction.

You put your head down and quiet the others, bidding them to keep along. There's whispers and mutters but they listen. The day stretches on like the road, winding and tiring.

“Aye,” the holler frightens you as the horse kicks up dust not far away, “you, boy!”

The page points at Milo who stops and nearly overturns the basket. You flutter your lashes and peer between the nine-year old and the man on his steed. Behind him, the duke slows on the speckled gray war beast.

“Think you're clever, eh?” The page accuses as he draws his horse to a halt. “Small as you are, that voice is like a squawk.”

You step up and put a hand on Milo's shoulder, “respectfully, sir, my brother did not speak of your passing.”

“Aye, aye, we heard. Our men do have keen ears. We heard the little imp say it,” the page continues anon. “So say it again, boy, let the duke hear it.”

“I… I didn't…” Milo stutters and look up at you, squeaking your name, “sister, I swear it, I didnt–”

“It is the duke who asks,” the page insists, “so confess.”

Milo shakes and sniffles, his sobs breaking through as he chokes. You put yourself in front of him protectively. You know even if he had spoken, it could never be anything wrong.

“We all heard as well and he said nothing, sir,” you stare at the horse's snout, not brazen enough to look at him straight.

“You are defiant, woman,” the duke speaks at last, “you speak in the place of men. The boy must face his own words.”

You frown and peer over towards the tall warhorse. What game is this?

“What was it the boy said?” The duke asks, “Llewellyn has a sharp ear.”

You watch the duke's gloved hands, folded calmly around the reins as he sits slackly in his saddle.

“Bastard…” the page hisses sinisterly.

“No!” Milo exclaims, “I wouldn't… I do not know that word.”

“We are only peasants, honest,” you plead as Marcella begins to tremble and Rowena wakes in your arms. Sidney coos at Adela as she rouses at the voices. “Please, your grace, sir, we would swear it on the lord–”

“Then the lord would have you a liar,” the duke insists, “Llew,” he flicks his fingers brusquely.

The page swings himself from his horse and his boots send up a cloud of dry dirt. He comes towards you and Milo. You know you should not but you try to obscure him from reaching your brother. The man gives you a harsh shove and you stagger, barely keeping from dropping your sister.

You whimper and apologise to Rowena. You put her on her feet and turn back as the page grabs Milo's arm, jerking him so that he drops the basket and Marcella does the same as she tries to smother her bawling. You rush forward and clasp onto your brother's elbow.

“Please, sir, do not hurt my brother–”

“You are petulant,” the page faces you and reaches to his belt where a danger is sheathed, “a woman like you would fare better without her impetuous tongue.”

“He's done nothing–”

“Carry on on your defiance and I shall take the younger too,” the duke declares.

Your breath catches at the threat, the malice that tinges his voice. Your eyes snap up and meet his, forgetting yourself as you find him smirking. Just as quickly you tear your gaze away.

“Where do you mean to take him?” You plea.

“I do not answer to commoners,” the duke snorts, “but he looks fit enough to dump my pot.”

Your lips part as you're left speechless and helpless. You look at the others, Sidney hugging a wailing Adela, Marcella hugging Altun, and Rowena babbling wetly as she grabs at your dress. Milo quavers as he's caught between you and the page.

“Sister don't let them take me, please,” he whines.

“I–”

“We take you, boy, or leave you here holding your innards,” the page barks and cackles.

“Milo…” you croak, “I don't… I don't know what to do…”

“I'll go. I said it.” Sidney steps forward, “I sound much like a young boy, don't I?”

The duke guffaws, “all of them liars.”

“It was me,” your sister insists.

“Enough. You will surrender the boy or you will all face the king's justice,” the duke puts his hand to the pommel of his sword.

You drop your head as Milo trembles violently in his terror. You let your hand fall too and utter a hollow apology. You can only hope the duke does not harm him much before you can fetch your parents.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #a foe most frightful #series #medieval au #au #the gray man

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compact-turtle · 1 year

Note

I love you're farmer!! Can we get a bit more info on them?

(Can I be 🪷 anon?)

TW: Child abuse, child neglect Of course you can be the 🪷!!

Here’s a little about him,

-Even if he’s a bit harsh to the dogs sometimes , he cares and loves them very much. They supported him when there was nobody there for him.

-His favorite meal is an omelet.

-Thinks flying creatures (birds, butterflies, etc) are so pretty. He used to have a journal dedicated to his discoveries about them before his parents burned it. Would sneak off the farm as a kid and go bird watching. Could list off a bunch of facts and talk about the creatures for hours.

“The Danaus Plexippus, more commonly known as the Monarch butterfly is notorious for being poisonous due to their diet of milkweed. Also…”

-When people make eye contact with him, it gives him anxiety. He doesn’t like looking at people in the eyes when talking.

-He tries watching TV to learn how to emulate people’s speech and communicate better. Honestly, doesn’t help too much since his delivery is always off. Sometimes his voice is monotone when it should be joyful or laughs at things that aren’t funny in an attempt to blend in.

-He wants to do an elaborate proposal with a heartfelt speech like he saw on TV but is afraid to mess up in front of you. He doesn’t want you to think you got stuck with some stupid backwards farmer.

-Deathly afraid you’ll leave him for some smart city boy who’s charming and eloquent at speaking.

-He’s intelligent in terms of hands on problems and quick thinking. Important skills when dealing with machines and rowdy animals. Book smart and academic wise…. uhhh not so much.

-Used to live with his parents before they died in an “accidental” drowning incident while fishing on the lake.

-His trauma and insecurity around intelligence plus speaking stems from his parents that would lock him in closets as a kid since he “wouldn’t talk or had the smarts like a proper boy.”

-Loves when you tell him he’s done a good job, if he’s handsome.. honestly any praises in general. It makes him feel special and that you love him.

-He’s very awkward when it comes to expressing emotions to you directly. He’ll show it through actions instead.

-for example, if you’re having a bad day. He’ll make your favorite meal and give you a massage.

-the only person in town who likes him is Donna. An old woman who sells flowers and enjoyes gossiping about everyone. Some hooligans tried to rob her until Atticus beat them bloody. Went and told everyone about the fine young man who saved her life.

-bad news: this man has poor hygiene.

-good news: uh- he loves you?

#yandere x reader #yandere farmer x reader #yandere farmer #yandere drabble #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #male yandere #yandere imagines #tw yandere

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frogchiro · 10 months

Note

Why do I imagine farmer!price yeeting hyena!graves over the fence as if it’s a everyday thing 💀

Like its part of farmer prive daily schedule for the farm:

Feed the chickens? check

Water the veggies?

Make sure the bulls are behind the fence? Check

Yeeting Hyena!graves back over the fence? Check

PLEASE THIS IS LITERALLY PERFECT

His main points on his daily check list is:

-visiting his best cow girl and sucking her tiddies

-making sure his bulls aren't too rowdy and none of them little shits are trying to break down the fence/trying to breed with you

-yeeting another little shit over the fence back into the forest bc he just can't deal with that fucking coyote who's constantly trying something >:(

Price's history with Graves goes way back but it was only like stealing eggs, veggies and fruit, the occasional chicken and sometimes messing with his bulls since they are easily riled up amd Graves knows his way around them, even caught his trying to mount one bull or two but now he's insufferable >:(

It's basically daily routine now that he finds Philip in your pasture stuck to your tit, trying to mount or just grooming you, licking your coat and 'keeping you clean' while poor heifer is none the wiser and just lets him go at it bc he's so nice to you :((

#kin speaks #asks #interactions #he's AWFUL #cod mw x reader #cod x reader #philip graves x reader #graves x reader #john price x reader

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creaturecraftsmp · 2 months

Text

AHOY GAMERS!

Looking for a modded Minecraft Roleplay Server to join? Join Creature Craft SMP!

🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂

Creature Craft SMP is a three years established, medium sized modded 18+ LGBTQIA+ roleplay server running on Java 1.20.1 with Quilt support. We put an emphasis on a collaborative, member-driven narrative with lots of character customization and fun!

This SMP tells a story of three worlds healing from a brutal, reality-rendering apocalypse thousands of years ago. These radiation-poisoned lands are home to many Beasts of Wild Magic that either try to threaten or mend what remains of the world.

Now, after defeating the Ender Dragon and thus destroying the prior world, CCSMP has been ported onto a new server while still retaining the builds made on the old! With world generation from Terralith and a much wider variety of creatures and structures than ever before, you can be the first to explore a fresh, unique world!

See the creature or be the creature!

🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂

19 Origins and Origin Classes with all receiving tweaks and balances for all different playstyles

In-game proximity voice chat as well as text both in-game and discord supported for role-play!

A new and improved modpack selected around roleplay, exploration, and teamwork; examples being many food mods such as Farmer's Delight + many of its add-ons and The Lets Do mod series like Candlelight And Meadow, many new different armors supported with transmog, new generated structures from Explorify and Dungeons + Taverns, and many more!

Different Factions, Towns, and other important locales with their own different themes, story-lines, and even quests!

The nautical, medieval Kingdom of The Valley trying to survive threats inside and outside their lands, the refined and pristine country of Eternis with a war-torn and mysterious past, the once prosperous trading port of Sundries riddled with missing merchants and now frozen landscape, the humble farming community of Feldwin with ancient ruins and a occasional traveling circus, the dangerous yet beautiful lush grounds of the Overgrowth that lives near the dreaded void hole, and last but not least the rough and rowdy cowboy town of Rattlesnake recovering from multiple attacks from a mysterious and unknown beast.

🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂

Interested? Send an ask for a discord invite ^_^

#minecraft #minecraft servers #modded minecraft #origins mod #minecraft roleplay #minecraft roleplay server #minecraft rp

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zihette · 1 year

Text

What if the Equestrian timeline was altered so the rainboom never happened? And what if Twilight was an evil spy for Sombra? Well here's my AU! More under cut <3

Nightshade (formerly known as Twilight Sparkle) - The adoptive daughter of King Sombra. Foalnapped as a filly, she was raised to be a strong magical prodigy for her father. She will do anything to help him regain his physical form, and gets sent off to Canterlot to spy on Celestia and try finding an artifact that can help him restore his true form.

Rarity - A seamstress currently residing in Canterlot. She works under a known designer, and dreams to one day become a designer herself. However, due to her never finding the geode as a filly, she always feels like she's lacking something in her designs. She's friends with Rainbow Dash and Applejack, and stays in touch with both of them.

Applejack - Once she moved to Manehattan to live with her Aunt and Uncle Orange, she ended up becoming a pretty well known singer. Currently, though, she resides on the Apple Farm to help raise her younger sister and take care of her Grandmare after her parent's deaths. She talks to Rarity still, as they are fillyhood friends who both moved out of Ponyville.

Rainbow Dash - A royal guard, working under Cpt. Shining Armor. Very rowdy and always ready for battle, more so than her canonical counterpart. Loyal, yes, but way more law-oriented than her canon self. She doesn't want to become a Wonderbolt herself, as she feels like she's already achieved greatness by working under Celestia.

Mena (Pinkamena Diane Pie) - The odd one out of the Pie sisters. Snarky, playfully mean and laid-back, this pink pony grew up on her family's Rock Farm. She brings an artifact uncovered on said Rock Farm for analysis in Canterlot, which catches the eye of Nightshade.

Fluttershy - Despite never discovering her love for animals, she still decided to stay on the ground after she fell down from Cloudsdale as a filly. She is a hermit and herbalist, living on the edge of Ponyville, never speaking to anypony. She is very interested in artifacts and antiques, too, and spends most of her days making her own teas and reading about magical items. Rainbow Dash is a fillyhood friend of hers, but they have lost touch years ago.

Once Nightshade gets interested in the artifact (as it could help restore Sombra's true form), she has to fake her way through befriending these ponies to get them to do what she wants. However, this may end up in her developing friendships that she never thought she could ever have.

#my little pony #mlp #mlp au #twilight sparkle #rainbow dash #pinkie pie #rarity #applejack #fluttershy #fanart #daughter of sombra au #artists on tumblr #redesign #redesigns

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cool-lilfella · 29 days

Text

🥞・Caregiver Clark Kent headcanons

Banner by @ Bunnelbaby & Art by Carlo Pagulayan

- Loves baking you treats. He uses his Ma's recipes and it's always delicious.

- Extremely EXTREMELY gentle with you. He'd never let anything happen to you.

- A little too lenient sometimes and has a hard time sticking to rules. He just wants to get you everything you want all the time for you to be happy. But he knows that isn't always the best. He's trying to be more strict but you're just too cute sometimes! When it comes down to your health or safety though, he's real serious.

- Heavily values routine, but everythings adjusted to your ability.

- He loves all nick- and pet names you give him. Just don't call him supes/superman in public hehe.

- He loves calling you nick- and petnames too of course!His favorites being buddy, prince(ss), sweetpea, kid/kiddo, sunshine and love. But he's up to call you anything you'd like!

- Always asks questions to make sure your comfortable. "Do you like it when I call you this?", "Do you want me to hug you, love?", "Is it okay when I tease you? Always tell me if I'm being too harsh, okay prince(ss)?", etc...

- Carries you everywhere you want and in anyway you want. On his shoulders, in his arms, on his back, in one hand even!

- Good at taking care of all kiddos, from infant to teen regressors. One of the best at taking care of rowdy littles as well.

- Praise, praise, praise!!! "Amazing, good job!", "Wow! You're so smart buddy!", "Thanks so much sweetpea, couldn't have done it without you!", "You're such a good kid"

- Loves going places with you. Mostly his parents farm where you get to help feed the animals and collect eggs while he's helping with the big work. But you guys also go to parks, malls, aquariums and fairs whenever you can. You're always on an adventure.

- Speaking of his parents. Both Mrs. and Mr. Kent love you. Their house is so cozy and friendly. They babysit you every once in a while when Clark's busy.

- The absolute best at comforting you. After you'd had a bad day, when your sick, after/during meltdowns. He's calm and collected in these situations and he just always seem to know what you need.

- He's the type who wakes up early on weekends to make you a yummy breakfast. He'd greet you with a "Good morning sunshine!" and a "I made your favorite!"

- Good night stories every night. You often visit the library to find what you'll read this week. He also likes showing you books he liked as a kid.

#sfw agere #safe agere #agere #agere headcanons #fictional caregiver #caregiver headcanons #fandom agere #agere fandom #dc agere #silly guy rambles

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onmyyan · 1 year

Text

Save a horse, ride a cowboy.

A/N: here comes the boy NOT EDITED

TW'S: FEM READER, YANDERE, STALKING, MANIPULATION, MURDER, MENTION OF PIGS EATING CORPSES NOT GRAPHIC 👁️👄👁️, READER GETS CALLED PRETTY GIRL

Ashley Hunt HC's

The idealized western cowboy in a modern man's body.

6'6 and wide as a barn, Ashley is an old-fashioned type of beautiful, looks like someone straight out of an Old Western.

His sandy hair has a habit of falling in his eyes when he's working so he often wears a brown leather hat he'd gotten from his Father to prevent this.

He has this habit when he's thinking where he plays with his lips, it's very distracting.

Smells and looks like he's just come running from somewhere- never unpleasant though, it's a mix of sweat and the country air.

Always has that saccharine smile on his handsome face.

Has a loud, goofy laugh, his eyes light up when he does it and his nose scrunches in the cutest way.

He's polite to everyone he meets but he is far from a pushover.

Hates bullies of any kind. Takes on the hero role whenever he's confronted with injustice.

If he sees something wrong he can't just sit by and not do something.

Which isn't hard considering this big mf hauls farm equipment around for a living, he's had to wrestle rowdy bulls into their pens before, he can take another person down easily.

Holds the door open for you every time. Don't even think about touching that handle.

His go-to look is a pair of denim Levi jeans (man's got serious cake when he's working all the strong muscles in his thighs bulge), a white tank that sits on his flesh like a second skin, if it isn't too hot he'll throw on a flannel.

Got a BAMF belt buckle as a gag gift one year but he unironically loves it.

Does this thing where he stands at his full height, stares down at you, his hat casting a dark shadow over his heated stare, both of his big, strong hands rested comfortably on the buckle, it made your knees weak every time.

Knows you have a thing for his voice so he likes to come up from behind and gently kiss just below your ear,

"Hey there Sugar Bear."

All his clothes look well-loved and worn, he don't care much for how he looks, which is ironic since the whole town calls him a pretty boy.

Looks like someone pulled him straight out of one of those sexy country man calendars.

He's a pretty confident guy, except when it comes to you, of course, then he turns into a bumbling teenager trying to talk to his crush without fumbling over his words.

Gets all red and blushy when you call him pretty. Literally has to fan himself with his hat.

You like to randomly shower him with compliments and he gets so flustered he has to stop what he's doing to kiss you.

"Good lord woman yer gonna' put me in an early grave."

For a while, you had to avoid the friendly farmer because the mere sight of him hauling hundred-pound stacks of hay like they weighed nothing had you feeling some not-so-platonic things.

Has you sweating like a sinner in church just from one well-timed boyish smile.

His wavy locks are a few different shades of dirty blonde, he's almost always wearing his hat in an effort to keep his bangs outta his eyes,

The times he took the damn thing off were your favorite cuz the way his hair fell around his face, framing it beautifully, you could really see all of his marble-carved features.

Takes his hat off inside, of course, his mama raised him right.

Works on his family's farm, he grew up working the fields with his Pa so hard work is in his blood.

When he starts something he finishes it. No matter what.

That includes pursuing you as his one and only.

Sun-kissed skin from being outside all day.

He can play the acoustic guitar and loves to sing to himself during his free time.

Voice is deep and warm.

Really good at puzzles.

Loves the idea of a big family but at the same time is so possessive of you and your attention that he battles with the idea.

Likes to draw for fun, mostly sketches and stuff is really good at it.

He likes to sketch you most of all.

Has dozens upon dozens of journals filled with your visage, he doesn't think he can ever truly capture your beauty.

Really self-sufficient if something breaks down in your house and you don't wanna spend a fortune calling some company, you called Ashley Hunt, and he never asked for anything in return either.

Whenever he goes to town people always stop him for something, be it for his help or to give him some goods as thanks, he never leaves empty-handed.

The whole town just adores him, so much so that if you ever tried to run from him, try to use the townsfolk to hide, they'd lure you into a false sense of security, convincing you they'd drive you outta town, only to hand deliver you back to Ash.

He's a protective/possessive/worshiper kinda Yandere.

The first time you meet you're just moving into your Gran's old farmhouse, he knows your Grandma well as she's the closest neighbor to his Farm, he'd been regularly helping her out with household chores or busy work whenever she asked.

The day he sees you hop out of her pick-up, he swore his heart skipped seven different beats.

Your delicious-looking form was clad in these little shorts, no doubt trying to combat that county heat. The black t-shirt you had on was rolled up at the sleeves showing off your arms, he watched them flex as you hauled a box over your shoulder like it was nothing.

His throat goes dry, sweat begins beading at his temple, and it's not the 90-degree weather, you helped your grandmother out of the car with a graceful smile and a certain kind of sweetness, the sight had a swarm of butterflies going wild in his belly.

He saw the remaining boxes stacked in the back of the truck and knew he'd found his ticket in.

You'd come back outside to the towering man at the edge of the yard, hat in hand, he'd shoot you that star-studded smile, voice sounding like melted butter.

"Hello there Miss, my name's Ashley Hunt, I'm your next-door neighbor, I just came on by to check if y'all needed a hand." He gestured towards the truck with his hat.

Then you had the nerve to shoot him that damned smile, so bright and full of life it nearly knocked him out of his socks.

He spends the rest of the day helping you move in, the conversation flowing so easily by the time you two stopped talking it was well past midnight.

He learned so much about you, just from this one convo he knows everything he needs to about you.

And you're perfect.

"I sure am sorry for keeping you up so late sweetheart." Running his hands through his hair he couldn't keep his eyes off you.

He watched you visibly light up at the pet name and couldn't fight the smirk pulling at his lips.

"Don't worry about it! I was having so much fun- again thank you so much for all your help today." You looked so sweet standing there next to him, he was a good head or so taller than you, you looked up at him with those beautiful (e/c) eyes and he had to fight the strong urge to hold you against his chest.

Knows from that night alone you're his Darling.

It's inevitable you spend time with him, as he was your closest neighbor.

He finds any and all excuses to come over in the beginning.

"This floorboard feels a little loose, I'll come by later n' fix her up."

"That window feels a bit drafty hun, why don't I get a handle on that."

Eventually, he runs out of stuff to repair and builds the courage to just ask you out for a romantic dinner at his place. He doesn't cook anything fancy, but it does taste good a real homemade meal.

He thinks long and hard about how to show you he's the one and comes up with a teeth-rottingly cute idea.

Leads you by a gentle hand out to his field where he'd prepared a soft blanket and several throw pillows, fairy lights were strung up on the fence nearest, casting a warm glow on the scene.

After you spend hours talking and giggling, you lay back against the soft blanket and stare up at the clear sky.

Well, you were busy with the stars, he was busy staring at you.

"Ain't you a pretty picture."

That night after he walks you home, just before you turn to say goodnight, cups your face in one hand, "Can I kiss you pretty girl?" And when you breathlessly nod yes, he brings his other hand to the back of your neck and softly pulls you the rest of the way in.

He kisses you the same way soldiers kiss their wives before war, takes the breath outta you both.

Loves when you do anything domestic if you cook at his place or oh my god for him? He's whipping out the ring before the plates are clear.

Or when you stay the night for the first time, he's immediately addicted to the way you feel in his arms, and literally cannot sleep without you by his side look what you've done.

His morning voice is to die for.

"G'mornin' pumpkin." He has the biggest grin on his face when he wakes up, likes to trace his fingers on your bare skin.

You put his hat on once as a goof but he freezes in place, his face is beet red and his breath gets all heavy.

"Don't move a muscle Darlin'- lemme get a good look at ya'."

"Mm mm mm- now that's a sight a man could get used to."

Sleeps naked, if you're uncomfortable with it he'd throw on some boxers but that's it.

Runs too hot for much else.

Sleeps on his stomach and likes to stare at you when he does it.

Hold his hand and he will giggle like a little kid.

He's a lot smarter than he looks so his Yandere tendencies are easy to hide.

"C'mere sweetheart, don't think we're leaving the bed yet."

He's slowly getting you used to the idea of being his housewife, just wants to take care of you.

Like I said before he's beloved by the entire town so if anyone ever tried something with you he didn't approve of (smile at you a little too hard, make you laugh, get too close for his liking) all he's gotta do is give em' that look and if they're smart enough they back right on off.

However if their self-preservation doesn't kick in at that murderous glare, he gives em' one and only one warning to stay away from what was his. It's only polite.

If they did, Ashley would be all smiles and buddy-buddy. You'd never even know something was wrong.

If they don't back down though, well that's what he keeps pigs for.

Did you know pigs can eat a whole body in like three hours? Cuz Ashley knows.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere x y/n #Ashley Hunt oc #my oc #yandere oc #yandere oc x y/n #Ashley Hunt #yandere oc hc's #onmyyan

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finalgirlrick · 1 year

Text

Wicked Game

Pairing: Maggie x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: ~suggestive~ towards the end

Summary: A slightly enemies to lovers maggie x fem!reader farm era fic. I'm in love w maggie so this came super easy, I know it's not very popular to write about but w/e!! we all saw those dead city pics. shoutout @weretheones & @normanplusdaryl for encouraging my maggie simpery.

When you first met her, you swore she might’ve hated you. No, you were certain. With her narrow green eyes always fixed on you and a scowl on her face whenever you entered a room, it was hard to have any doubts. It was intimidating. She was intimidating. You were around the same age when you met, the only people in your age bracket holed up in her dad’s farmhouse other than Glenn.

Her bold attitude captivated both you and Glenn, and you often found yourselves talking about whatever new shocking thing you witnessed her doing when you went on runs together. “Did you see the way she just slapped Shane?” Glenn asked completely baffled. “Yeah, she’s just asking for murder,” you joked holding back a grin. Maggie Greene, she was full of surprises -- and honestly, you wouldn’t mind sticking around to see how many more.

There was no denying it, she was gorgeous. It wasn’t lost on anyone with her soft brown hair and the big smile that always stopped you in your tracks the rare times you were graced with it, usually when you bought her something on a run that you overheard her saying she needed earlier. And her distinct farmgirl fashion, maybe you wouldn’t have worn any of it, but she always pulled it off. She could pull anything off.

Slowly, you became more friendly with her, it was inevitable when you were living in close quarters for so long. You eventually realized her earlier stubbornness was just due to being protective over her family and the farm, and you couldn’t blame her for that. Once the initial awkwardness faded away, you, Glenn, and Maggie started having regular game nights to pass the time. They were full of laughter and chaos, and Herschel would sometimes peer in to remind you “rowdy kids” to get to bed, which only made you all laugh harder. A few times, you noticed the old man bite back a smile, in relief that there was still at least some joy in this new world.

You loved seeing Maggie get competitive, or when she would try to trick Glenn into making the wrong move, which was more frequent than not. He was always visibly nervous and stammering around her, and you could tell she was using it to her advantage. She would tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, lean forward with her chest - god that was distracting, flash her doe eyes and that smile and he was a goner. You couldn’t blame him either, you always got butterflies whenever she pulled that move. But instead of reacting like him, you would chuckle and you would exchange a knowing glance with her, a new inside joke between you two. You couldn’t be happier to be a part of it.

One game night, Glenn brought a bottle of wine he had scavenged, making sure to hide it from Herschel. The three of you had your usual nightly routine together, but Glenn started going overboard with the drinking and before you could finish the round of the game you were playing, he was passed out on the floor. “He’s a lightweight, huh,” Maggie giggled. You nodded.

“So, I guess it’s just you and me now,” she pointed out. “Yeah, sorry about that,” you said with a half-smile, feeling those butterflies creep up on you. Her eyes crinkled when she grinned, “You’re funny.” Much to your surprise, she scooted around closer to you, making sure not to disturb Glenn, who was currently splayed out on the floor beside you.

You felt like you were going to lose it. You didn’t have many moments alone with her, and this felt like completely new territory. Plus, the feelings you had developed for her didn’t make this any easier. There was no chance she would ever feel the same way, you knew it. You were going to make a fool of yourself and you were consumed with dread.

“What do ya say we ditch this game?” she asked. You barely made eye contact with her as you replied, “Maybe that’s a good idea.”

“This might be a good chance to get to know each other too.” The remark made you snap upright and you repeated it back to her. She continued, “Yeah, silly. Don’t you think it’s a good idea since we’re spending so much time together?” You gulped unsure of what to say next. “There’s just not much to know about me,” you scoffed.

“Pffft, that’s a downright lie. You might be the most interestin’ person in this house.” You felt your cheeks turn pink and prayed that she wouldn’t notice. “Glenn’s interesting,” you said with a shrug, trying to distract from it. She looked over at him, “Yeah, real interestin,” and you broke out in laughter together.

“Seriously, tell me somethin’ about you. What did you do?”

“I don’t know. I guess I was in school, I didn’t do much,” you sighed. “I was in school for a while too,” she replied moving in closer. Your heart was racing so fast you were starting to think it was dangerous. “I think we might have more in common than I originally thought,” she whispered. She was making those doe eyes and you had to be going crazy. She couldn’t possibly mean…that, right? And why was she leaning in so close to you? In your bewilderment, you questioned her. She chuckled then, but it was different. It wasn’t like when you exchanged knowing glances when she pulled her moves on Glenn. She was looking straight through you.

She took a deep breath in and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, and just like that a wave of heat flushed over your body. Her face was mere inches away from yours now. “Do you like me?” she asked softly, almost embarrassed, a look you never saw on her before. Of course you did, you responded. In more ways than one, but she didn’t have to know about that.

She nodded and smiled, and you just about jumped when she leaned in and brushed her soft lips against yours. It was a quick, shy kiss - waiting to see how you reacted and you were in so much shock that your mind went blank. But she was so beautiful, and right in front of you, and what the hell - she liked you. So you seized the moment and kissed her back, the movements getting more passionate and desperate by the second, both of your hands moving and grabbing in places they probably shouldn’t have when Glenn could’ve woken up at any second.

“I didn’t think that was what you meant when you were asking if I liked you,” you admitted after the kiss was broken. “Are you complainin’?” she teased. “No. Of course not,” you giggled and her’s soon followed.

#maggie x reader #maggie greene x reader #maggie rhee x reader #maggie twd #maggie rhee #maggie greene #maggie rhee fanfic #maggie rhee imagine #maggie rhee fanfiction #maggie rhee x you #twd fanfiction #twd fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #maggie rhee fluff #lauren cohan #wlw fanfic #wlw #sapphic fanfic

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messycunt · 1 year

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hucow trey<3

He is the most helpful boy on the farm! Always helping in the kitchen if and when he can. Keeping the rowdy boys of his bard in order to the best of his ability, helping with cleanup after a local show when him and his handler stay behind for awhile. Trey is definitely not the big prize winner amongst the beautys on Night Raven Farms, but he's certainly a prize for any handler to have:)

...So why can't you just 'relive' him? You tell him how he's so good, so why can't he have your attention now?

Trey really tries to be patient when it comes to his milking rituals, but he can only handle so much before he bends you over the fence and does as he pleases. You can't cry and beg your way out of this one, "I'll get in trouble if your milk doesn't make it back up to the house:(" You say..yeah, well you should've thought about that before you came prancing around and gave the usually relaxed Hucow blueballs.

-🌸

I’ll flesh out the hucow AU more later but for now keep in mind we're goin off hentai logic so just try not to think abt it too much, kay?

hcs + a blurb, not proof read

cw: Male lactation, afab reader, hybrids(hucows), noncon(groping and frottage), not proof read :P

You're not Trey's handler and honestly? you're pretty sure he doesn't even have one so you’re the closest thing he has to a caretaker. Not as if that would come as a surprise, he's so much more well behaved then certain other members of his barn(ehem ehem Ace and Deuce) the constant supervision probably isn't necessary. Probably.

It’s more so like you’re around to make sure he doesn’t work himself to death, though he insists that he’s more than capable of carrying his work load.

He's big and caring with a lush deep brown-green hide and a pair of noticeably stubby horns.

His sweet demeanor and helpful nature mean he'd make for a more than worthwhile companion and you would happily take him off of NRF's hands, uh, if you had the money that is… and if he was for sale to begin with

Too bad those circumstances are never going to aline :( but at least you get to spend time with him AND get payed :)

Not being a show cow means that he doesn’t have to worry about the stress that some of the prize bucks like Vil or delicate steers like Riddle do.

He does however help out with almost every physical job that there is to be done around the farm as well as at local shows and markets

Other than assisting with his milkings or helping him with washing and brushing out his tail and just being there to make sure he doesn’t pull something you don’t really do much, not that watching him carry out bales of hay dripping in sweat or giving him full body massages during down time are things you would get bored of.

Sneaking peeks of him out of the corner of your eye when you think he isn't looking(he is) is something you admittedly feel guilty for, but maybe you wouldn't if you were paying enough attention to notice him sneaking similar glances of your figure.

You’d be surprised at the effect that a half buttoned flannel and some daisy dukes or even a pair of overalls could have on him.

All of the little things you do drive him up the fucking wall

You’re either making his life hell on purpose or you really are a hapless airhead.

Hugging him close enough to press both of your chests together when complimenting him on the pastries he had given you to snack on that morning, cream moving from your face to his as you placed a kiss on his cheek in thanks, letting him rest his head against your lap during the both of your mandatory lunch break instead of letting him continue on working like he planned to.

You care so much about him it's cute! If only he could repay your kindness with equally innocent intentions.

But back to the milking thing…..

It took some getting used to at first, from a mental standpoint you were anticipating it to be a nerve-racking task for both parties involved.

Trey was unexpectedly calm the first time, for having someone who was basically a complete stranger clumsily knead and pull at his chest gingerly in delicate preparation before setting the suction of the milking machine several levels too high anyway(his nipples were sore for days!)

His milk has a subtly smooth buttery taste and is perfect for pairing with pastries or making creams to go in coffees and teas,,, not that you’d know this ofc.. not like you would try sneaking a few sips after one of your weekly milkings or anything.

You felt eyes boring holes into you from behind as you set aside the third full milk canister of the day. Trey had been acting strange lately. Not making eye contact or engaging with you. He wasn’t ignoring you, not necessarily, but the most you would get out of him was a grunt before continuing on without so much as a word. Maybe it was something you said? Or you crossed an invisible boundary of some kind? You had made that mistake before; accidentally using a moisturizer that belonged to one of the blue ribbon show bulls, earning a thorough chewing out from him. Who knew farm animals cared so much about their skin care routines and what was his stuff doing in the main house anyways?

A pair of heavy hands on your hips and a head resting on your shoulder dragged you out of your thoughts. “Ah, Trey you startled me silly” the jump of your exaggerated delayed reaction almost knocked over one of the milk cans. Attempting to balance out the new weight on your back before bending down lower to set the tin back up you felt something hefty, hard and hot pressed against you from behind. That explains it. “Hey if that’s the, uh, if that’s the problem you’ve been dealing with we don’t have to do anymore work for the day! We should get you to the breeding stables and pick back up tomorrow yeah? Or have Ace and Deuce pick up where we left off instead.” One of the hands slipped down to roughly tug your shorts down the other ripped your top off of your body. You let out a sound akin to a pathetic dog whimper. “I’ll be fine. I wouldn’t want to burden them by taking a half day when I don’t need to. Not when I have a grade A heifer to fuck right here and now, all to myself too. I’m real lucky huh?”

How he was able to speak so casually of such things was beyond you and being as completely thrown off as you were made formulating an adequate response harder than it logically should have been. Your bewildered state gave him enough space and time to manipulate your body to his liking. Back arched to his liking and bare tits pressed against the cool sheet metal of the milking room wall putting up a fight didn’t even cross your mind. You had witnessed him throw around things three to five times your size with ease enough times to know that whatever fight you could put up was not going to stop him. “Trey sweetie” the pet name burned on your tongue “I'll get in trouble if your milk doesn't make it back up to the house. Just let me do that first and then I promise to help you out alright?” He went right back to ignoring you.

The wet head of his dick pressed against your panties as he rubbed his shaft up and down against the lone thin piece of fabric protecting your most delicate parts from him. You groan in annoyance and swallow the drool pooling in your mouth. If he couldn’t take ‘maybe later’ for an answer he definitely was not going to like the sound of ‘no’.

Blinking away tears you reared back and prepared yourself to take the biggest dick you had ever had the displeasure of being abused by.

You never did get to take that milk to the main house.

11.28.22 - more

#ask!#wrk!#trey x reader #twisted wonderland headcannons #twst #smut #twst trey x reader #trey clover #hybrid au!#twst smut #twst x reader #twst x reader smut #twisted wonderland smut #req!#afab reader #-🌸#hcs!

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