#a cave forgotten by the world but NOT BY ME
Note
hellooo! i loveddd ur cc country reader fic. do u think u could do one like that but with kate? hope ur doing okay!! <3
If She Ever Leaves Me . KM
pairing: country!kate martin x country wife!reader
synopsis: country kate <3
A/N: this is quite literally my favorite song of all time, lesbian country has a special place in my heart so i’m so excited for you guys to read this one!
I see you watch her from across the room
Dancing her home in your mind
you were from another world, kate was convinced. dolled up in your red gingham sundress, the one lined with ivory lace and a sweet little bow that sat in between your breasts. your cowboy boots clunked rhythmically against the wooden boards on the old bars floor as you danced to the music. you had once had a drink in your hand, a fruity little cocktail because you couldn’t handle the strong stuff like kate did. but the glass was long forgotten when you left your girlfriends company to join in on the line dance.
kate remained seated on the leather bar stool, her own pair of boots propped up on the foot rest. her elbow was leaned up against the varnished bar as she swirled her drink mindlessly. her attention was no longer on the ice that slowly melted within the glass, but on you, in the midst of the friday night bustle. she had brought you to the bar just like she did every weekend, a small tradition you adopted when you first started dating. you had fallen in love with the small little town and the cozy bar within it and found yourself most happy in the musical chaos of it all.
while she loved seeing you out there in your element, she couldn’t help but wish you’d stay right there next to her. her heart turned to mush at the way you would smile, flash your pearly whites as you sung along to the music. she loved how your dress twirled around your calves as you spun around in circles, your voluminous hair bouncing behind you. but she hated how you were so far, wanting to see that charming smile and those gorgeous locks up close for herself. she couldn’t stand the thought of you being out there for all eyes to see. hated how any man or woman could claim you as theirs in their minds.
kate was aware of your immense beauty, knew how especially the men liked to gaze in your direction. you were a sight for sore eyes, not even having to lift a finger to attract the attention of everyone in town. and while kate did get jealous, seeing how the single folk in the bar constantly asked you to dance or buy you a drink, she knew you’d never cave. your love for kate was outstanding and hardly likely to dissipate over a few drinks offered by lonely cowboys. they could continue to stare at you, imagine dancing with you all they wanted. but she knew it was her, at the end of the night, that got to take you home and settle between your thighs.
Well, it takes more than whiskey to make that flower bloom
By the third drink you'll find out she's mine
“good evening, missy” a deep voice slurred from behind you “i saw ya over there dancin’ and was hopin’ i could buy ya a drink?”
you had just returned to your seat next to kate at the bar, almost winded from all the dancing. a small film of sweat lingered on your forehead as you plopped down, adjusting the skirt of your dress. kate’s hand found its way to the divot of your hip without a second thought. she ordered you a brand new drink once she noticed you reaching for hers, letting you finish off her whiskey was a recipe for disaster. the bartender poured your drink as kate leaned in to kiss your blushed cheek, listening to you rave about the excitement on the dance floor. it wasn’t until your drink was passed to you, pausing your conversation, that you were suddenly interrupted.
“oh,” you licked your lips, the salt from the rim of your glass sticking to your upper lip. you turned around to face the stranger to see it was a taller and quite older man. he was muscular and burly, a thick beard embellishing his face. not that it would sway your opinion, but he was no different than the rest of the men who thought they had a chance with you “no thank you”
the man seemed to be taken aback, nose scrunching in disgust. he shook his head and and rolled his eyes, large hands coming up to rub his jaw. he inched closer to you, broad shoulders on the brink of colliding with your back. kate immediately noticed this, tightening her grip on you as she shot a stern glare his way.
“no?” he scoffed “it’s just a drink, lady”
“look i’m just not interested alright?” you sneered, trying not to be too harsh and make a scene in the midst of the busy bar.
“and why’s that, huh? i’m a nice, good lookin guy. what’s your fuckin problem?” he spat at you, near slamming his fist on the bar. this triggered something in kate, causing her to leap from her seat in anger. but you placed your hand on her chest, sending her a look to tell her that you had it under control. she looked back at you, then back at the guy in conflict. kate was more than ready to put that guy in his place, to claim you as hers and teach him a lesson. but she also knew you took satisfaction in telling these men off, ultimately deciding to take a seat and observe.
“i’m happily taken, i’ll have you know” you motioned to kate “i appreciate the offer, but i would appreciate it even more if you apologized and left us alone”
kate smirked, seeing his expression fall. it was always so gratifying to see these people learn that you were in love with someone else, and a woman at that. she tipped the rim of her cowboy hat mockingly at him, her way of making her presence known. the man cleared his throat, now embarrassed as he took his hand away from the bar and took a step back.
“you-uh-you’re right, ma’am” he mumbled, digging his hands into his pockets “m’sorry ladies, have a nice night”
he shuffled away in humiliation, probably on his way to pester some other woman he thought he could seduce. you watched him bump into a few people before he disappeared into the ever growing crowds. you sighed in relief, taking another swig of your drink.
“he not your type?” kate snickered, smirking at you teasingly before finishing off her own drink.
“shut up,” you laughed as you smacked her shoulder lightly. you turned on the stool, rusty metal squeaking loudly as you came to face her. nimble fingers came up to move a strand of hair away from her face “you know i only have eyes for you”
“you’re somethin else, ya know that?” she groaned, noticing the way you bit your lower lip and batted your lashes at her.
“i do,” you leaned in to place a small kiss to her lips “but you love it”
I've loved her in secret
I've loved her out loud
“can we just stay like this forever?” you asked, resting your head against kate’s shoulder as you let your eyes close.
these were your favorites moments. sitting on the porch swing with kate as the sun went down, crisp summer air swooshing past you. the sky glowed pinks and oranges, reflecting onto the home you shared on this secluded farm. the chains of the swing creaked with each push, kate’s bare foot touching the floorboards just enough to rock you back and forth. crickets and other little critters sounded from the fields in front of you as the evening fell upon the town. the grasses and weeds of the crops whistled in the wind, adding to the noise. kate hummed an unknown tune-probably some song she heard on the radio weeks ago-as she draped an old knit blanket across your laps.
“mhm,” her hand wrapped around your shoulder, tugging you closer into her side to keep you warm. her fingers toyed with the fraying ends of your sleeve, an old country singer tee shirt that you stole from her drawer one day “then i’d get to keep ya all to m’self”
“you already got me to yourself, kate” you chuckled softly, nuzzling your nose into her neck.
“yea,” she continued “but here? it’s jus the two of us. no drunks at the bar, no assholes givin us a hard time in town…it’s just you, me, and the farm. everything i’ve ever wanted’s right here”
you smiled against her shoulder, feeling the rough material of her flannel shirt on your lips. kate was the biggest sweetheart, was always vocal on her appreciation for this life. it was true, everything she wanted was right here. she was never set on a busy life at all. as long as she had her woman, her animals, her crops, and most likely her guitar (because how else would she serenade you on quiet nights like these), then she’d never need anything else. you were her entire world, what made her the person she is. she’d do anything to keep this life with you.
“mmm,” you sighed, another breeze lulling you into sleep “i love you s’much, kate”
“i love you too, darlin” she confessed, sensing your drowsiness “more than you know”
The sky hasn't always been blue
It might last forever
Or it might not work out
her back ached, her feet hurt, and her head pounded with the memories of your conversation this morning. kate had never meant to say what she did, and now she beating herself up at the thought of hurting you.
she had woken up at the same time she always did, quietly padding out of bed and into the connected bathroom as to not wake you. you hated early mornings so kate normally let you sleep while she did her morning farm chores. in return, you’d clean the house, run errands, and you often helped kate with anything she was behind on. it was a fair trade off and the routine worked for you, so there were hardly any issues during the countless years you’ve been together.
but for some reason, everything seemed to have gone wrong this morning. kate’s alarm didn’t go off so she was late to milk the cows, causing her to go behind schedule by at least 45 minutes. the water heater apparently stopped working, she ran out of toothpaste, and her favorite work pants had a pretty gnarly hole. then, she accidentally woke you up by knocking down some of her toiletries because she was in a rush. you were shocked to wake up to such chaos, trying to ask her what was wrong and asking if there was anything you could do to help. but rather than answer or kiss you goodbye and tell you she was in a rush, she snapped at you angrily before running out the door.
“can you just leave me alone? fuck” she had said, trying to pull her boot over her left foot “christ, i don’t have time for this, i gotta go”
the comment left you dumbfounded, disgusted by her tone. sure, there were times that kate got a bit angry and said something she didn’t mean, but it was never like this. she never said anything that directly offended you. plus, she always apologized if she hurt your feelings. this time, on the other hand, felt like a personal dig at you.
you laid in bed for a while as you replayed the scenario over and over in your mind. it had made you incredibly upset, knowing that she was somehow mad at you for asking if you could just help. eventually, you decided to just get up and get some work done throughout the house to try and take your mind off of it. but no matter what you did during the day, you couldn’t shake how terribly she made you feel. her words stuck with you like glue as you went about your daily chores.
the dishes were done and the floors were scrubbed spotless by the time dinner rolled around. you made your self busy with prepping the food as you waited for kate’s arrival. she typically finished around 5:30, but with her being in such a hurry, she most likely wouldn’t be back to the house until 6:30. so you focused on cutting the vegetables and marinating the meat until she was home.
kate, meanwhile, was finishing rounding up the horses. she so desperately wanted to go home, eat the delicious dinner you had made, and curl up under the covers with you while you read your book aloud to her. but now, as her hands grasped around the brass door knob of the front door, she realized that that may be harder to achieve than she had thought.
she was instantly met with discomfort the second she set foot in the house. the air felt heavier and the atmosphere was merely dimmer than it should be. the radio would often be playing somewhere in the kitchen, you could never get anything done without your old school tunes. her heart twinged at the loss of your humming, the sweetness of your voice nowhere to be found as she kicked off her boots and set them aside.
her legs dragged her into the kitchen where she spotted you silently chopping away at some peppers (the ones you had insisted you grow yourself, giving yourself yet another thing to tend to). you were still and quiet, not even so much as swaying your hips. she knew that you were upset right away. and you had every right, she admitted internally, her behavior this morning was uncalled for and she didn’t blame you.
“hey, baby” she mumbled, testing the waters. she wandered through the kitchen, making her way to the cabinet to grab a cup for a glass of water.
“hey” you murmured back in response. now it was the tone of your voice that stung kate. you didn’t bother to look at her, keeping your focus on the task at hand. but kate couldn’t bring herself to look away from you, instead she took the time to study the expression on your face and the movement of your body. you seemed stiff, muscles tense with irritation. the features of your face were soft-they always were-but now they were soft with disappointment. you were a headstrong gal, kate knew all too well, and would rather go all night completely mute than pretend like this morning never happened. so she decided to shrug off her guilt and pride and own up to her mistakes.
“darlin’?” she set the glass down on the counter top, no longer worried about the water. she came up behind you as you slowed the movements of your knife.
“hm?”
“m’sorry” she divulged, chest pressing against your back. her arms came to wrap around your torso as she let her head fall. her chin now rested on your shoulder, her nose nudging at the angle of your jaw “for what i said today, that wasn’t fair to ya. you were jus tryin’ to help”
you said nothing, pushing her off your shoulder as you resumed your chopping. the small action made kate’s insides churn. she tried again, this time placing a hand on your lower back and attempting to apologize once more, but she was swiftly shot down.
“thought you wanted me to leave you alone?” you taunted bitterly. you moved over to the stove and slid the diced vegetables into an already simmering pot. she sighed, scratching at the back of her neck.
“baby, i didn’t mean it” she pleaded “i’d never want you t’leave me alone, i was just upset and i lashed out. it was wrong of me”
“yea,” you laughed in disbelief, still moving restlessly around the kitchen to display your anger “it was”
“can you just-” she halted to try and find the right words “can you just stop for a second? please”
you set-more like carelessly tossed-your cutting board and knife back onto the counter. your head whipped in her direction, shooting her a dissatisfied glare. your sun kissed cheeks were down a darkened red and your brows furrowed downwards, your nose scrunched up and your tongue ran along the insides of your cheeks out of annoyance.
“i’m sorry, im so so sorry” kate continued once she realized you were listening “what i did was incredibly shitty and you don’t deserve that. i’m so grateful to have someone who is so willin to help me out and i took that for granted. but i promise i didn’t mean it at all and it won’t happen again”
she pulled her sweet puppy dog eyes on you, beautiful blue irises staring back at you. it genuinely seemed that she felt horrible. you knew kate like the back of your hand, knew that she definitely didn’t mean to say something like that. although, it had cut you deep in the heat of the moment and made you feel awful all day. but seeing her so distraught over this, now practically on her knees to beg for your forgiveness, it had you rethinking the validity of your coldness. you could never stay mad at her for long.
“it’s just-” you groaned, fingers coming up to rub at your temples “it just made me feel so mad and you ran out without even apologizing”
“i know, i know. i shouldn’t have done that” she gulped, hoping that you would come around “but i really don’t think i can stand ya bein’ mad at me any longer, baby. you gotta forgive me”
you chuckled at her urgency. it was true, she always felt lost when you were cross with her. a smile worked its way onto your face as you stepped towards her, throwing your arms around her neck. her arms tugged you in closer as she let out a sigh of relief.
“alright, you’re forgiven” you tilted your head “but, it better not happen again, got it?”
“got it. never again, i swear it”
you got up on your tip toes, your house slippers about to fall off your feet, to kiss her. before you could pull away, though, she had grabbed both sides of your face to kiss you even deeper. you moaned with surprise when her fingers threaded through your hair, tongue slipping into your mouth as she caught you off guard. you indulged in the kiss until you had to pull away for air.
“ok, cowboy” you breathed against her lips “you gotta let me go, dinners gonna burn”
“oh, m’never lettin you go ever again”
If she ever leaves me, it won't be for you
she sat back in her seat, an old wooden rocking chair that matched the one you were in. it was an oddly hot night this june even though the sun had set hours ago and the cold air from the lake was creeping closer. the heat from the bonfire in front of you only added the warmth.
this was one of your favorite things to do, sit outside on the small concrete patio kate had made, roasting marshmallows and taking turns on the guitar as a toasty fire crackled against the humid air. you had the acoustic instrument rested on your knee, a hand woven strap around your shoulder as you lightly plucked the strings rhythmically. you sang quietly along to a song as you looked off across the field and into the mountains, you were in your own world. kate was merely listening, too distracted by your beauty to sing along. the way your lips moved with each lyric, how your nearly manicured nails strummed against the guitar so smoothly.
“what?” she snapped from her trance, eyes blinking when she noticed you. she hadn’t realized you’d stopped singing, fingers no longer on the guitar. kate cleared her throat as she chewed on the insides of her cheek.
“s’nothin” her hair swaying against her shoulders whilst she shook her head “you’re just pretty s’all”
“oh stop” you giggled, the most infectious thing kate had ever heard. when she died, your laugh would be the last thing she’d want to hear “that’s the liquor talkin’, babe”
“definitely not,” she hated how you never believed her compliments, always denying your own beauty. but that just meant she got to compliment you twice as much to get you to buy into it “i could be sober forever and still think you’re the most breathtaking woman to grace the earth”
you had now set the guitar down, propping up against the varnished table between the rocking chairs, pushing yourself back and forth by the heel of your boot. you reached your arm over, fingers outreached to kate. she took your hand without hesitation, giving your hand a loving squeeze. the whites of your teeth shined through the darkening sky as you let yourself smile. you’d never get tired of the affection kate showered you with.
“you’re my everything” she whispered to you, thumb mindlessly stroking the backside of your hand.
“and you’re mine” you replied as you thought your conjoined hands up to your face, kissing her knuckles “my universe”
She loves Wild Horses and Tumbling Dice
She don't have a single tattoo
kate remembers the exact moment she met you. when she wandered into the quaint house of a close friend from college, noticing you right away. her friend, caitlin, was having a fairly large get together for her birthday: poker, beer, and pizza. kate typically hated going out and socializing, but rarely ever was she able to say no to good food and a cold glass of cheap beer. she debated not going for the longest time and instead having caitlin over one night for dinner to make up for her absence, not really wanting to get dolled up and leave the comfort of her home. but she forced herself to go anyways, turning the key in the ignition of her truck and making her way down the road.
boy was she glad she did.
you were like a rainbow in the midst of a storm, a rose among thorns sitting there leaned against the back of your chair. the moment caitlin had let her in the house, guiding her into the kitchen to grab her a drink, her eyes were glued to you. your hair was let down down, a leather cowboy hat resting atop your head with a think pink band wrapping around the base. a flannel that was far too big for you swallowed your upper half, leaving kate to only imagine what laid beneath it. she noticed your muddy jeans, how your velvety skin ran across the stiff denim when you doubled over in laughter. you were absolutely radiant, kate didn’t need much also to fall head over heels for you.
for the most part, she avoided you all night. her nerves were getting to her, not even having to talk to you to become riddled with anxiety. something about you enchanted her, drew her in like a moth to a flame, but she couldn’t bring herself to make an introduction. rather she lingered on the outskirts of the room as she made pointless conversation with mutual friends, eyes wandering just to get a glimpse of you every so often.
then, as kate was talking to small group of people in the living room, caitlin summoned everyone into the kitchen for the poker game. her heart began to race, watching as you followed the crowd of people to the dining room table. kate was the last to funnel through, finding herself straining her neck to find an open seat. and much to her luck, like a sign from the universe, the last open seat was directly next to you. maybe this was meant to be, written in the stars that she’d sit next to you tonight.
“hey,” she swallowed hard when she tapped on your shoulder, choking back a cough of uncertainty “d’ya mind if i sit, ma’am?”
you looked back behind you, eyes wandering up kate’s tall figure. you grinned, pulling out the chair a little more so she could sit down.
“not at all!” she squeezed in between you and the person next to her, arm brushing against yours electrically as she tried to find a comfortable position “i -uh-i don’t think we’ve met?”
“oh! yea no” kate felt like she was about to faint, she barely made it past the initial question and now she was already being forced into an introduction? “i went to college with caitlin, we’re pretty close buds, but um…i don’t go out much so i’m not around”
“really? that’s crazy you’ve known her for so long!” you said. kate would be forever grateful that you disregarded her awkwardness “i met her a while back when i first moved to town, she helped me get settled in and everything”
kate exhaled, the words spewing from your lips hardly retained as she was concentrated on your immense beauty. you voice sounded like honey, everyone else’s words becoming jumbled in the background.
“sorry, i didn’t even tell you my name,” you internally scolded yourself “i’m YN”
“s’nice to meet you, YN” she nodded, offering a calloused hand out to you. you gladly took it, dainty hand fitting perfectly into her much larger one “m’kate”
and just like that, such a simple introduction seemed to entice a years worth of conversation. throughout the entire poker game the two of you couldn’t seem to stop talking. to be truthful, kate threw the entire game in the first hand just so she could get out as soon as possible to talk to you. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t do the same. this didn’t go unnoticed by caitlin (or any of the others for that matter), quickly catching on to how her best friend had stuck like glue to you. whilst the rest of them pushed around chips, threw down hards, and occasionally cussing over a bad hand, you and kate sneaked away to the backyard.
‘we’re just gettin’ some air, we’ll be back b’fore the games over’, she announced when caitlin asked why you both backed away from the table. caitlin nodded innocently, pretending she didn’t know your true intentions. she smiled smugly behind her cards as she watched kate open the back sliding door open for you, placing her hand on your hip to guide you in front of her. suddenly, caitlin felt like a matchmaker.
the air was still, crickets sounding loudly from deep under the trees and bushes of caitlin’s backyard. an owl cooed in the far distance, moonlight beating down onto the lush and green lawn. everything went silent when kate slid the door closed behind you. you were far too scared to say anything, opting to take a seat on the concrete steps and listen to the tranquil sounds of the south. kate plopped down next to you as she let her knee relax just enough to bump into yours. her lips parted, eyes locking with yours, elbows resting on her knees as she fiddled with her fingers in her lap. she wanted to know everything about you, hear every story you had to tell. she had the unexplainable urge for you to consume her every being, needing to know what it was like to love you. she didn’t care you had just met, or that you were merely just talking, something inside her told her this was love at first sight.
she had only muttered something along the lines of ‘i think i could sit here all night with you’ before you were high off chitchatting once again.
maybe an hour passed, maybe 2, you weren’t quite sure. time seemed to stop as you sat there talking to kate, the sky growing darker with the lights inside being your only source of light. your butt stung from the roughness of the concrete, but the discomfort didn’t seem to cross your mind once as you babbled to kate about everything and anything. from childhood stories, to worse first dates, there didn’t seem to be a single topic left out of discussion.
in such a short amount of time, she learned so much about you. how much you adored animals, that you wanted to be a veterinarian when you were little but ultimately not having the money for college. she learned that you loved to bake and that’s why you moved out to town, to take over your great grandmas bakery on the edge of the valley. you told her about how your favorite thing to make was carrot cake and that you’d love to make one for her sometime, really just an excuse to see her again. she learned that you hated needles, that you’d wanted to get a tattoo last year but ended up chickening out before they could even lay down the stencil. even the little details, like your parents divorce or your close relationship with your brother, she came to know it all. and loved every bit of it. she had never felt so connected to a single soul in her entire life.
“wait wait wait,” kate threw her head back, throat bobbing as she laughed “there’s no way you did that!”
“it’s true!” you cackled, hand coming to grasp at your chest as you chuckled “i swear to god it’s true!”
“so you mean to tell me…” she tried to get the story straight, tongue darting out slightly as she processed what you had said “that you got chased down? by a wild horse?”
“yes! my friend bet me 20 bucks to try and get a stupid selfie with it-cause let’s be honest we were 16 and fucking idiots-and i spooked it from behind, and well…it chased me all the way back to my truck!”
“well you’re a hell of a lot braver than me, i woulda been knocked out cold within a second!” you snickered, luring the most mesmerized grin from kate. she looked back out into the yard when she sensed the mingling was dying down, the air going quiet once again. “you know i-um…this has been really nice, sittin here talkin to ya”
“yea,” you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, still looking at kate even though she had turned “it has”
“could be kinda up front with ya?” kate blurted. she had been contemplating it all night, asking you out and overcoming her fears. but the whole night she couldn’t see herself doing it. that was until now, the moment she understood how badly she needed to see you again.
“of course, kate”
“do you think i could get your number?” she might faint on the spot, the sudden sour of confidence could send her into cardiac arrest “i mean you definitely don’t have to give it t’me at all, i don’t know i just thought that-”
“kate,” you laid a hand on her shoulder to get her to ease up, she held her breathe in fear of your possible rejection “i would love to give you my number”
and just like that, the rest was history. she’d remember this moment forever.
She'll drink all the liquor and leave you the ice
kate leaned against the cedar post that held the rickety porch together, weathered and old from so many years of love. her boots, a new pair that you had gotten her for her birthday, left muddy prints on the slats underneath her. she had her arms folded across her chest as her fingers came up to toy with the bolo tie that sat snuggly underneath her collar. it was baby pink, like the band of the hat you were wearing during the night you met. kate was never big on pink, but after meeting you, it became her favorite color.
she was watching you closely, not wanting to miss a single second of the moment. you were out in the front yard near the little flower garden you insisted on starting when you moved in with kate. it stretched along the fence that separated the yard and the plots of land reserved for the rest of the farm. endless species of wildflowers sprouted from the dirt and mulch, other plants you picked from the gardeners market sat freshly planted. you loved that damn garden with everything you had. sometimes kate wondered if you loved your flowers more than her.
dressed in a light green sundress, the one that sat untouched in the back of your closet most days, you stood radiant under the evening sun. there was a cotton apron draped around your waist, you had sewn several pockets into it by hand so that you could carry your supplies in the garden. there wasn’t a shoe, sock, nor sandal on your foot either. you claimed to prefer it that way, wanting to feel the earth and “be one with nature”. it made kate laugh, seeing your toes sink into the soil. you were on your hands and knees trying to pull the freshly grown weeds, hands wrapping around the base and tugging the roots from their clutch in the ground. kate could make out a line of dirt that spread from your temple to your cheek, most likely from wiping your hand across your sweaty skin. with a groan, you sat back on your knees, tossing the last few weeds into the basket next to you and throwing your head back. you sighed from the excessive heat and the gnawing pain in your forearms. but kate couldn’t help but stare at you in awe, whether you were dirty and tired it didn’t matter to her. she watched as the neckline of the dress dipped down, your chest heaving, causing the tops of your breasts spill just a tich. kate gulped deeply in astonishment. your pink lips, now red from the amount of times you’ve licked them, puckered out as you stretched your neck. it took everything in her to not march over to you, lay you out onto your back, and give the neighbors a show they certainly wouldn’t want to see.
“quit starin’ at me you creep!” you hollered across the yard, snapping kate from the trance you had her in. she chuckled under her breath, her arms falling to her sides.
“m’just appreciatin’ the view” she was so good at smooth talking you, always getting you rattled “can’t a woman just admire her gorgeous wife?”
“not when her woman’s knee deep in weeds and is too tired to make it back to the house!” you pouted, balled fists coming to rest on your hips. you were scolding her now?
she made her way down the cobblestone path, tripping on the stone that stuck out more than the rest. you had asked her to put “fixing that stupid fucking stone” on her to-do list earlier in the month, but she had never gotten to it. you’d probably pester her about it again eventually. your mood instantly changed when she stepped foot onto the grass, shaking her head at you jokingly.
“cant believe you’d leave me out here in this blistering heat, makin’ your so called ‘gorgeous wife’ sit out here helplessly” you nudged again, neck craning up see her clearly.
her face was covered in freckles, darkened from a days work on the farm. her hairy was tied into a braid, strangling hairs whisking around ever which way. you noticed the pink tie on her neck, always smiling when she wore it because you knew she bought it because of you.
“well i’m here aren’t i?” she held both of her hands out to you, offering to help you up “i’d be quite the fool to leave ya”
“such a sweetheart” you tutted, letting kate yank you from the ground, grunting from the force. with her bewildering strength, you stumbled into her. your arms gripped onto her biceps and hers found the way to your rear, giving you an inviting squeeze “thank you baby”
she tipped her head to the right, one hand coming up to tangle itself in your hair. her lips met yours momentarily, capturing you in a winded kiss. you squeaked in surprise at her actions, only to accept it immediately after and kissing her back.
“anytime” she smirked, nipping your bottom lip as she pulled away “although you looked like absolute perfection out here…on your knees…that pretty little dress ridin’ up your thighs. gettin’ me all hot and bothered, yet you’re the one doin’ the weeding”
“keep it in your pants, martin” you rolled your eyes, trying suppress the butterflies in your stomach. but you could never trick kate, she knew exactly the things she did to you. you hooked your fingers through her belt loops as you began walking backwards towards the house, taking her with you “now come and help me”
“help you with what? i thought you were done weedin-”
“not with the weeds silly” she looked at you confused. you pursed your lips as you pushed the front door open “with somethin’ else…this dress ain’t gonna take itself off”
she groaned, biting down on her tongue. images of what she’d do to you on a continuous loop in her mind “you tease”
“maybe,” you shrugged, already making your way down the hall and to the stairs, swaying your hips to egg her on. kate had halted at the bottom of the stairwell, unable to form a complete sentence it seemed “are coming or not?”
“i’m comin’” she said, following you to the bedroom “just you wait, darlin”
…That's too much cologne, she likes perfume
#kate martin#kate martin x reader#kate martin x yn#kate martin oneshot#country kate martin#wnba x reader#wnba imagine#wnba basketball#wlw imagine#wlw#lesbian imagine#lesbian#wcbb#wcbb x reader#iowa wbb#rpf x reader#rpf#foreingersgod
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OHHH i figured i’d end tonight’s zelda session by finally going back to where it all began - the great plateau - and!!!! ok THE highlight of this game so far is going back into the cave of the shrine of resurrection. SPOILERS IN THE TAGS spoilers in the tags
#spoilers ahead spoilers ahead!!!#nothing even remotely plot related it’s PURELY a really sweet nod to BOTW#but discovering it was such a great experience so. GO THERE AND DISCOVER IT YOURSELF if you care to.#but. ohhhh my god.#ok FINAL SPOILER WARNING.#the way the first room link wakes up in in BOTW is empty apart from a little pond of water was initially a bit like. eh i mean.#the old shrines are all gone it makes sense there aren’t any remnants of the tech/architecture#but THEN. THEN i was like. hey wait what’s UP with this water it’s like. sparkling.#and!!!!!!! i jumped into it and!!!!! the 2 hearts of damage i had taken started regenerating!!!!!!!!#some of that resurrection power that took care of our boy for those 100 years is still there hidden away where nobody goes anymore 😭#a cave forgotten by the world but NOT BY ME
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Title: In The Serpent's Den.
Pairing: Yandere!Suguru x Reader (JJK).
Word Count: 4.7k.
TW: Non/Con, Hybrid AU, AFAB!Reader, Cobra!Suguru, Rabbit!Reader, Biting, Aphrodisiacs, Heat Cycles, Oviposition, Manipulation, Biting, Breeding Kinks, and Predator/Prey Dynamics.
“It’s time to come out, little rabbit.”
His tone was sickly sweet, lulled into something saccharine and tempting, only slightly distorted by the uncommon shape of his tongue. Despite his melodic coaxing, you curled further into yourself – pulling your thighs flush to your chest and burying your knees in your face, doing your best not to breathe, not to cry, not to make a sound. The temptation to uncurl yourself entirely and run, run, run until you found somewhere small and dark and safe gnawed on the back of your mind, but it never would’ve worked. You were in Suguru’s enclosure, Suguru’s territory, and there was nowhere to run where he wouldn’t be able to follow.
“I’m losing my patience, little rabbit. If you come out now, I promise I’ll try to hold myself back.”
Why was he even looking for you? It’d been weeks since his eccentric, white-haired owner forced you into the sprawling greenhouse that made up Suguru’s enclosure, and he’d never paid you a second glance. You did your best to avoid him, to make sure you never crossed his path while he was prowling for a meal. You could count the number of times he’d acknowledged you on a single hand, and he’d never so much as lunged at you. You couldn’t imagine why he’d decided you’d make a good meal now, after weeks of relatively peaceful cohabitation. Maybe he’d gotten tired of keeping you around, of having to share his territory with another hybrid – one so far below him on the food chain. Maybe, this was just the first time he’d gotten hungry enough to hunt you down.
You heard branches shift, twigs break, and instantly, all of your thoughts (rational and otherwise) were replaced with a frantic, buzzing static. “You’re only making this worse for yourself,” Suguru went on, and his voice was too loud, too close. You’d tucked yourself into the densest patch of foliage you could find, but your white ears and cottony tail stood out like blood on snow against the vivid greens and blacks of the flora. Suddenly, trying to hide at all felt stupid. Rabbits weren’t supposed to hide. Rabbits were supposed to die and get eaten by the big, mean snakes who preyed on them. “I’m going to find you, and when I do, you’re only going to be sorry you made me wait as long as I have.”
You could hear the dull drag of scales moving over rough stone, the ebbing ‘hiss’ that formed a slight lisp at the end of each sentence. You raised your head just far enough to see a large, black shape move in front of you, and something buried deep inside of you cracked and spilled open.
Running wasn’t a choice – it was the only option. You were on your feet in a second, sprinting deeper into the greenhouse in another. The direction didn’t matter. As long as you got away from him, nothing else mattered.
Blindly, you vaulted over fallen branches and overgrown roots, rotting leaf litter threatening to steal your balance as you veered away from the beaten path and threw yourself into the tangled wilderness. If Suguru was chasing you, you couldn’t hear him – the world little more than a blur of color and your own racing pulse. You just needed to find somewhere better to hide, somewhere he’d forgotten. A tunnel, or a tree hollow, or a cave dark enough to hide your snowy pelt from prying eyes. You just needed to—
Your trek came to an abrupt end as your collided with a pane of thick, emerald-tinted glass and were sent crashing to the ground. It took you a second to process what you’d run into – the wall of the greenhouse, the edge of Suguru’s enclosure – and another to remember that you weren’t in the wilderness, anymore, that you wouldn’t find a tunnel or a cave or anywhere else to hide that hadn’t been created deliberately to trick animals like you into to think they were safe. You might’ve cried, if you hadn’t been so desperate. You might’ve gone looking for Suguru yourself, if you hadn’t been too scared to remember what it meant to be caged.
Fighting back tears, you started to scramble onto your feet, but it was already too late. There was no sound, no warning, just a sudden pressure against your back and an agonizing pain burrowed into the side of your throat. His fangs were planted in your neck before you could so much as scream, his strong tail wrapped around your legs and his arms crossed over your midriff, keeping your body locked against his as he pinned you to the ground. You expected his venom to burn, to be able to feel death as it flooded into your veins, but instead, there was only a slight numbing sensation around the point of insertion, a distant fog over your senses that might’ve just been your own fading adrenaline. If anything, you felt…
You felt warm.
Suguru took his time pulling away, his ribbon-like tongue flickering over the skin of your throat before he lifted his head. You weren’t facing him, one of your cheeks pressed into the dirt, but you could just barely see him out of the corner of your eye, make out the dark hair tucked behind his shoulders, the pitch-black scales littered over his face, his chest. You knew he was a snake, but you thought you might’ve heard his owner call him something else, once or twice. A ‘cobra’, maybe, but you’d never met a cobra before. You felt safer thinking of him as a snake.
He opened his mouth, but you were already babbling. Trying not to cry had been useless. Tears poured down your cheeks unabashedly, blurring your vision and making it that much harder to spit something coherent out. “P-please don’t eat me – I’m really small for a rabbit, and I promise I won’t taste very good, and I—”
“Quiet, little rabbit.” You’d been wrong, before. You didn’t feel warm, no, you felt hot – something deep inside of you beginning to smolder at the sound of his voice. Immediately, you shut your mouth, and he rewarded you with a raspy chuckle. “You thought I was going to… to eat you?” You nodded stiltedly, and he went on. “Ah, no wonder you were so afraid. And here I thought my timid little bunny just didn’t like me very much.”
“…’m sorry.” You must’ve run farther than you realized. A few minutes of sprinting shouldn’t have left you this breathless, this dazed. “You… You aren’t going to eat me?”
“No, bunny. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“But, you bit—”
“I gave you a present.” Another dry chuckle, his tongue flitting over the back of your neck. “Just a little something to make sure you wouldn’t be so shy. You should already be feeling better.”
You weren’t sure that you felt better, but you didn’t feel scared, either. A different feeling had taken the place of your fear – the sensation viscous and churning and prone sending pangs of dull, burning pain to the pit of your stomach. You had to make a conscious effort to move your lips, and even then, it was hard to get any sound past your suddenly dry throat. Suguru waited patiently, seemingly more than happy to watch you stumble over your own tongue. “It’s really warm,” you managed, eventually. “I think I might be… tired?”
“Oh, of course. I forgot how easy it is for prey animals to wear themselves out. I’ll take you back to my nest, where you’ll be able to rest safely.” It wasn’t a question, but you nodded eagerly. Safe. You wanted to be safe. You couldn’t remember what you needed to be safe from anymore, though.
He uncurled, but didn’t pull away from you. Rather, your smaller body was pulled against his broad chest as he took you in his arms and carried you through the greenhouse. His destination was a raised loft – set above the wild foliage of his enclosure, accessible only by a sparsely wrung ladder you never would’ve had a hope of climbing on your own. His nest wasn’t at all like a rabbit’s nest, either. Rather than a deep, dark tunnel padded with fur and leaves, he’d taken you to a mess of tangled roots and woven blankets, all piled onto one another to form a box-like bed. Your form, limper than you would’ve liked it to be, was laid on a relatively soft patch, and Suguru positioned himself above you; upper body supported by his forearms, his never-ending tail taking up whatever space you left unoccupied. You wanted to sleep, to do what he said you should, but he was still touching you – dragging a single, clawed finger down your chest and over your midriff, only pausing at your waist to draw slow, swirling patterns into your hip. “My venom has a unique side-effect, you know,” he muttered, his voice low and soothing, the tapered tip of his tail lashing from side to side as he spoke. “A full dose would be fatal. It’d be fast, too – a few seconds of screaming, a few seconds of twitching, and then—” He paused, clicked his tongue. “—dead, just like that. It’s a little anti-climactic, to be honest.”
Something deep inside of you began to throb. You shrunk into yourself, trying to relieve the pulsing ache, but Suguru mistook your agony for fear. “In controlled portions,” he continued, splaying his open palm over your hip. “The symptoms are much more pronounced. Humans tend to get all feverish and clumsy, but hybrids—”
Again, he paused. His hand drifted lower – first to your thigh, then your cunt. You didn’t realize you were dripping until his cold fingertips skirted over your slit, gathering up the slick already staining the inside of your thighs.
“Hybrids go into heat.”
A cold wave of dread washed over you, and Suguru’s smile widened.
“…heat?”
“Heat, little rabbit.”
His hand lingered on your pussy, two of his massive fingers splitting apart your lips and making room for his tongue to lap gingerly over your entrance. The sensation was strange – not good and not bad, a little ticklish – but your hips bucked as it flickered over your clit. You knew better than to get so close to a snake’s mouth, but you couldn’t seem to move, to think about anything but getting closer, closer to anything that could touch and poke and lick you. “Is heat—” You started, only to be cut off by a cracked whimper as the throbbing in your core intensified. “Is it supposed to hurt?”
“Only for a while.” His deep voice reverberated against your cunt, and you couldn’t stop yourself; attempting to rock your hips against his mouth with a high-pitched whine. It was embarrassing to be so needy, so desperate, but Suguru didn’t seem to mind, only ghosting his lips over the inside of your thigh as he pushed you back down. “But, you’ll need a mate to help you through it. Do you want a mate?”
“Y-Yes! Mate!” You’d never felt this empty, before. It was a little like hunger, but not as jagged, not as desolate. It was more of an absence than anything more tangible; a total and complete vacancy that had to be filled. You tried to roll onto your stomach, to scramble onto your hands and knees and present yourself, but Suguru held you in place with minimal effort. Your protest came in the form of a drawn-out whine, a waving sound Suguru mocked with a low coo and an airy laugh. “Please, please, it hurts, Suguru, I can’t— I need—”
“You need cock,” he finished, his tone one of pure, undeniable satisfaction. With a sigh, he picked himself up, straightening his back and towering above you. You felt saliva pool at the bottom of your mouth as the junction between his upper body and his tail came into view – pale skin slowly giving way to ebony scales, the sculpted muscle of his chest meeting the plated armor below his hips. His hand fell away from you, but you couldn’t mourn the loss of contact, not when your attention was so fixated on the thin, almost invisible slit just below his pubic bone. His fingertips slipped shallowly inside of it, and his gaze shifted back to you. “Come, little bunny. I think you’ve earned another treat.”
The encouragement was appreciated, but unnecessary. You were already crawling towards him, your limbs uncooperative and your movements jolting but your resolve absolute. There was still a throbbing emptiness inside of you, getting worse and more demanding with each neglectful second, but all you could think about was settling onto your knees in front of Suguru and drooling at the sight of his fluttering slit. You weren’t sure what to do, whether to use your hands or your mouth, but Suguru didn’t leave much time for indecision. His free hand found its way to the back of your head, nudging you forward until your mouth was pressed against his slit, just starting to leak thick trails of translucent slick over his dark scales. Your tongue darted past your lips hesitantly, at first, but your trepidation didn’t last very long. It couldn’t, not when you had a hollow pit inside of you still begging to be filled.
Suguru’s fingers carded through your hair as you lapped and sucked at his slit. The taste was mildly acidic, but surprisingly sweet – your eyes quickly falling shut as you sank into a pattern of wet sounds and strange textures and point claws grazing over your scalp, scratching at your ears. Throaty moans (the loudest noise you would ever hear Suguru make, in hindsight) and mumbled praise trickled past his lips as you worked, letting you know that he liked the way you were curling your tongue, that the spongy spot you could just barely reach inside of him was particularly sensitive. It wasn’t long before a mix of your saliva and his arousal dripped past the corners of your mouth, before the end of his tail was lashing violently within the confines of his nest. Maybe Suguru was in heat, too. You hoped he was. You didn’t want to be the only one in so much pain.
You felt the tapered tip of something smooth and stiff against your tongue, and Suguru buckled forward, a ragged gasp tearing past his lips as he took your head in both hands and pressed you flush against his abdomen. Confused and panicked, you tried to pull away, but his grip was iron-clad and it was all you could do to whimper, to sit there helplessly while something filled your mouth – hard and ridged and hot enough to burn. Cock, the pulsing in your core filled in, but it couldn’t be. Suguru had made it sound like something you needed, something you were supposed to want, but you didn’t like the way the blunt head prodded at the back of your throat, the way the ridged underside ground against your tongue. For the first time since he’d caught you, your instincts agreed with your better judgement, both urging you to get away, to run, to put distance between yourself and this newfound threat.
Your pussy, though, couldn’t seem to do anything but chant mate, mate, mate.
You could feel something else, too – not in your mouth, but pressing into your chin, your throat. Reflexively, your hands shot up, wrapping around the thick intruder, and this time, Suguru let go of you entirely, biting back a half-choked groan as he pushed you away, leaving you sprawled out and alone in the center of his nest. The hollowness inside of you was nearly unbearable, and rubbing your thighs together only seemed to make it worse. You tried to look to Suguru, to ask him to do something, but instead, your eyes caught on the long, pale appendage pressed into his lower stomach. His cock. Or, his cocks, you guessed.
You hadn’t expected there to be two of them.
You hadn’t expected them to be so big, either. Even at a distance, it was clear they weren’t meant for a rabbit. Just one would’ve been more than you could handle – as long as your forearm, as thick as your wrist, the end tapered to a steep point but the base absolutely massive before they disappeared into his slit. The color was strange, too – the tip flushed a dull pink while the base was nearly as dark as his scales, creating an ombre that might’ve been pretty, if you weren’t so terrified. You couldn’t see any veins, but both were sculpted with pronounced, perfectly spaced ridges. You couldn’t imagine having something like that inside of you, but you couldn’t imagine not having anything inside of you, either.
You couldn’t be sure how long you spent staring up at him, trying to wrap your head around his size, trying to decide if you’d rather be torn apart by his cock or your own increasingly demanding needs. In the end, it wasn’t really your choice to make. His eyes darted from your clenched thighs to your heaving chest to yours, wide and watery, and a grin found its way back to his lips. For some reason, his smile wasn’t as comforting as it’d been, the first time you saw it. “I’m sorry, little rabbit. Did I startle you?” The tenderness in his voice was almost cloying. You didn’t move, didn’t respond, but he didn’t seem to need you to. “I didn’t mean to. Why don’t you spread your legs nice n’ wide for me, and I’ll make it up to you?”
Your gaze fell back to his cocks. One of his fists had wrapped around both, pumping idly while he stood above you. “Are those supposed to…?” You trailed off, shrinking into yourself. Suguru hummed, and you took it as confirmation. “But you’ll only use one, right? I don’t think I can— I mean, it won’t fit if you—”
“Really? I could’ve sworn you were begging to be fucked properly just a few minutes ago.” You stiffened, but he only laughed. “Fine, fine. If that’s what you think you want, I’ll only use one.”
You didn’t think you could trust him, but you could feel yourself getting hot, again, a haze forming over your mind. You could leave when he was finished, you figured, even if you weren’t entirely sure how to get out of his nest, or where to go once you’d escaped back into the greenhouse. After you got over your— your heat.
Hesitantly, you started to listen to the negging mantra still playing in the back of your mind, to obey the near-deafening voice in the back of your head urging you to get on your hands and knees and make him fuck you, but Suguru must’ve decided you weren’t moving fast enough. His tail shifted underneath you, a thick coil catching your side and leaving you bent over one of the thicker lengths, your stomach pressed into his cool scales and your feet barely able to reach the tangled roots of his nest. You scrambled for purchase, but Suguru was there to steady you – his hands finding your hips, his cocks pressing into your ass. The calloused pads of his fingertips pressed into your waist as he aligned one of his cocks – the upper one, you thought, just a little thicker than its twin – with your entrance. He was kind enough to give you a long, slow second to breathe before his hips rutted forward and he inside of you.
Immediately, it felt wrong.
You’d been right when you decided he was too big for you. He was only half-sheathed, and yet, the tip of his cock pressed into the floor of your cervix, the head of his cock alone enough to stretch your pussy as far as it could go. Thankfully, he didn’t try to force himself deeper, but feeling the smooth ridges of rub against the walls of your pussy as he pulled back wasn’t much better. Still, your cunt clenched around him eagerly, doing its best to suck him in despite your physical limitations. Suguru, of course, seemed more than happy to indulge you. His thrusts were slow and lethargic, as gentle as they could’ve been but still forceful enough to leave you pinned to the curve of his tail. You weren’t in control of your body, anymore. As he rolled his hips against your ass, you ground back against him, your greedy cunt never warm enough, never wet enough, never full enough. You tried to dig your blunt claws into his tail, to ground yourself, but it was a futile effort; a limping dear attempting to evade a wolf who’d already tasted its blood. Suguru’s only response was a stifled groan, a new roughness to the way he fucked into you. You felt his chest against your back as he bent at the waist, draping himself over you, his dark hair falling from his shoulder and replacing chunks of your vision with a curtain of thick, endless black. It didn’t matter. A fresh wave of tears would’ve left you just as helpless, not that Suguru seemed to mind the way you sniffled and sobbed between moans.
“They say— fuck, you know what they say about rabbits, don’t you, bunny?” His voice was barely audible, but it seemed to echo on and on and on in your overly sensitive ears. His cock ground against something softened and vulnerable inside of you and your back arched, your pussy clenching impossibly tighter around him. “That’s it,” Suguru encouraged, as you tried to pry yourself away from his freezing tail and chase the gentle warmth of his chest. “They say bunnies make the best sluts. Knock them up once, and they’ll never stop begging for it.”
Kits. A strong mate. A safe nest. The thought alone had you crying out for nothing, your convulsions growing that much more erratic, and Suguru chuckled in-turn. “Like that? Want me to make you into my little mate-whore?”
“Want it, please, w-want it so bad.” It was all you could do to force yourself to speak, to spit something out through the daze of lust and exhaustion and total, unrelenting fullness. You’d never been more sure of anything than you were in that moment, never knew something as deeply as you knew that you wanted Suguru’s kits inside of you. “Please, wanna be you mate, wanna—Suguru—!”
One more thrust, one more scape of his sleek scales against your clit, and you were coming undone around his cock in jolting, erratic convulsions. Suguru let out a ragged grunt and straightened his back, but the distance was short-lived. Strong arms snaked under your knees, spreading your legs and hauling you up to his height. Your back remained pressed against his chest as he pulled out of you entirely and slammed back in. Even through the overstimulation, the wrongness hit you immediately. His cock was too big, too thick, and—
And he was inside of you.
Completely inside of you.
You forced yourself to open your eyes, letting your head fall forward limply. The shock was minimal, but still devastating – both of Suguru’s cocks buried inside of you to their pitch-black bases, their outlines just barely visible against the plush flesh of your lower stomach. “You—You promised you wouldn’t—”
His face was buried in the dip of your shoulder, his lips parted as panted against you. You felt his teeth catch on your skin before sinking into you, had time to process the pure heat of his venom seeping into your veins. Instantly, anything you might’ve said died on your tongue, your mind going utterly, entirely blank save for a single thought: mate.
Your mouth fell open, your thighs spreading that much farther. Suguru pressed a lingering, open-mouthed kiss into the injection site, then pulled away, grinning wildly. “A few drops, and you’ll want everything I have to give you,” he muttered. “That’s better, isn’t it, bunny?”
Much better. You could feel something swelling at the base of his cock, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge anything other than the utter bliss as a small, round shape was milked up the length of his cock and emptied into your core. Kits, you thought, and did your best to settle onto his twin cocks, to hold still as another egg was forced through your tight pussy. You stopped trying to count after the fourth – giving in completely to the shuddering, splintering euphoria every new member of your little family brought you. By the time the final egg was safe and snug inside of you, you were limp, twitching, and so full, it was hard to imagine ever feeling empty again.
As the last aftershocks started to fade, Suguru sucked in a stilted gasp and pulled you flush against his chest. You felt his second cock twitch once, then twice inside of you before something warm and thick flooded into your pussy. You whined miserably as he pulled out of you, but he didn’t stay gone for very long. Your pliable body was turned around in his arms, his cocks slid back into your leaking cunt as he carefully lowered himself onto the floor of his nest – your body laid on top of his. You strung your arms around his neck and pressed yourself against his chest, closing your eyes and giving in to your well-earned exhaustion.
You lasted just long enough to hear him mutter something about mates and clutches before your consciousness faded entirely and your mind went mercifully, blissfully silent.
~
Hours later, you woke up to the sound of a low, long whistle. “Really did a number on the poor thing, huh, Suguru?”
It took you a second to blink your eyes open, to raise your head and glance toward the man standing at the top of the ladder that led to Suguru’s nest, and another to recognize him as Suguru’s owner. His white hair was in a state of disarray, his eyes hidden behind circles of tinted glass, and for some reason, he was looking at you. You shrunk further into Suguru, but he only laughed – the noise loud and piercing to your foggy senses.
Suguru’s cocks were no longer inside of you, the flushed tips just barely visible at the base of his slit. You were still on his chest, and his arms were wrapped around your waist, his hold loose but possessive. There was a small bump over your lower stomach, and you weren’t sure whether to grimace or beam at the feeling of Suguru’s eggs shifting inside of you with every little movement. He was already awake – had been for some time, judging by the unimpressed scowl pressed into his lips. Something sharp and icy lodged itself into your chest, but his glare was directed towards his owner, not you, and the very tip of his tail curled around your ankle protectively as his owner stepped into his nest.
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to walk into a serpent’s den?”
“I don’t think it counts if I own the den.” He straddled the bulk of Suguru’s tail, then gestured to you. “Turn the pretty baby around. I wanna see the damage.”
You shook your head vehemently, clinging to Suguru’s neck, but his own response was an exasperated sigh, a fleeting hiss to your cheek as he flipped you over; leaving you slayed across his chest and exposed to his owner’s prying gaze. “Five minutes,” he said, as his owner shrugged the waistband of his pants down just far enough to free his cock, already half-hard, already enough to send a bolt of pure dread from your heart to the pit of your stomach. “I don’t want your scent on my mate.”
You opened your mouth, ready to whine that you were sore, that you were tired, that you didn’t want anyone but Suguru and your kits inside of you, but the words withered into nothing on your tongue as his owner eased himself into your dripping pussy, as Suguru caught you by the chin and pulled you into a shallow, lingering kiss – the points of his fangs just barely scraping over your bottom lip. Looking back on it, it had been silly to ever worry that he’d eat you.
You should’ve been worried that he wouldn’t.
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere imagines#hybrid au#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen imagines#yandere jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#yandere jjk#jjk imagines#yandere geto suguru#geto x reader#geto suguru x reader#yanderecore#yancore
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Throwback to my first time cheating at multiplayer minecraft. Put your torches down, let me explain. And no, I haven’t done it since.
I don’t remember what version it was, only that it was a very long time ago. Food healed hearts directly, and- this is the important part- mossy cobblestone could not be crafted or mined anywhere in the overworld save the floors of dungeons.
It also was a brilliant, vibrant green, so much more aggressive than its current gentle texture, but that’s neither here nor there.
I was playing on a survival server I’ve long since forgotten the name of, and I was putting the finishing touches on my lovely brick house. But the floor, no no. I was a picky child; only the finest of flooring would do.
I wanted mossy cobblestone.
Immediately I was at an impasse. I could strip mine and explore caves in the hope of finding one dungeon; but I needed two whole stacks of it for my floor. There was no /locate command at the time, and I knew nobody else well enough to ask for it. And at the time, chunkbase and other seed scanning tools didn’t exist; not that it would have helped, since I didn’t have the world seed.
Perplexed, I logged off and consulted with friends at school the next day.
There, I was advised to try an x-ray texture pack.
So I did.
And it worked a treat! The dungeons were rendered perfectly visible to me, and I easily dug straight down (smart and subtle!) and raked in the precious mossy cobblestone I needed.
At one point, one of the mods asked me in chat if I was x-raying. Having just turned off the pack minutes before the message came through, I cheerfully said no and skipped off to finish my floor.
At no point during this entire exercise did it occur to child me to use the x-ray pack to mine for the diamonds I could clearly see.
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Injured (Alexia's Version) IV
Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader
Summary: You need perfection
TW: eating disorder, self-destructive thoughts, unhealthy thoughts about weight and size, self-harm through dance
There's a reason the ballerina body is thought to be unobtainable.
It's because it is.
Even to the dancers.
Perfect feet. Perfect legs. Perfect waist. Perfect stomach. Perfect face and hair.
You didn't have the perfect feet. Your arch wasn't quite perfect. It was close but with the right shoes it looked perfect.
Your legs weren't quite perfect either. You think one of your knees bulges weirdly and one leg is the tiniest bit more muscular than the other. But that can be hidden under your tights.
You don't like your waist or your tummy. You're different to your Mami but you're built a bit like her. She's built like a football player where she doesn't need to care about her waist or her stomach like you did.
You could fix your face with makeup and your hair with product but you couldn't fix your biology. You couldn't fix the way you've developed.
When you were younger and still at ballet school, the older girls passed down one line of wisdom to the younger girls.
If you weren't thin enough to fit between the space of the barre and where it's mounted on the mirror, then you're too fat.
You know now that that's too small of a gap for anyone to fit through without tucking in their tummy to the extreme. You know that now but it's still embedded within you. It still haunts your every step, a looming figure in the shadows that will one day catch up with you.
Some of the other dancers smoke or vape to keep their figures but you took the more classic route.
It was easy to cut breakfast out. A protein bar sufficed as your lunch, maybe a pre-packaged salad as well. You would eat dinner because that was a family meal and, while you were desperately trying to keep your figure, you knew that eating at least one meal a day was good.
It worked like a charm though and soon your stomach shrunk to the point that having one meal a day was all you could stomach.
"Why are you still asleep?" Jaume asks as he throws himself onto your bed," It's nearly dinner."
You groan, poking your head out from your blanket cave. "I was napping. I'm allowed to nap."
You've been napping a lot lately but you're used to that. Whenever you start cutting out meals, you feel the need to nap more to conserve your energy.
"Mami told me to come get you," Jaume replies," Dinner's almost ready."
You pull the covers off before freezing.
"Jaume," You say," Are you wearing your dirty football boots? In my bed?"
He grins. "Yeah."
"Get out!"
"Oh, come on, it was just a joke!"
You smack him in the face with a pillow. "I'm telling Mami!"
He scrambles after you, trying to stop you from making it down the stairs.
"She's lying!" He cries out, skidding to the dinner table just as you arrive.
"Jaume wore his dirty football boots in my bed!" You announce and Alexia sighs.
"Just one day," She says wistfully to Olga," That's all I ask. Just one day of no arguments."
She scolds Jaume lightly over the meal and you pick at your food.
Alexia watches you out of the corner of her eye. This meal is your favourite but you're pecking at it like you're a pigeon.
"How was dance?" She asks.
You shrug, grateful for the opportunity to talk as you push the food around your plate. "Good. I'm going back in after dinner. I'm going to practice my solo."
Olga frowns just like Alexia. "You've been doing that all week. Don't you think you need a break?"
"It won't be for that long," You lie," I want to get it perfect."
Perfection has always been a big part of your life. If you have perfection then you've proven your worth. If you have perfection then you cannot be replaced.
If you perfection in your dancing, in your body, then everything will be good and right in the world.
If you have perfection then you'll never be forgotten again.
Alexia watches you, eyes narrowed before she starts helping Olga clear the table.
"Jaume," You hiss," You want this?" You offer him your plate.
He glanced over to where Olga and Alexia have their backs turned.
"Give."
You scrape the rest of your food onto his plate before getting up quickly.
"I'm heading to the studio," You say.
"I'll drive you," Alexia says.
"I'll walk." You're actually planning to jog. "I want to grab a snack from the store on the way."
There's a reason Mami hasn't found out yet. You've gone back and forth on this for years. Cutting out meals before a performance only to introduce them again a few weeks after. You know exactly how to play her.
It's easy to slip away just like it's easy to dance and dance and dance until your feet ache.
There's something about pointe work that you love. It's a hard discipline. Nobody outright loves it like you do. You don't think they'd understand why you love it.
You love it for the wrong reasons.
You love it because it makes your feet hurt. You love it because it makes you look good even when you're falling apart. You love it because it makes you feel perfect even when you know you're not.
You love it because it's the quickest way to make you bleed.
Your chest rises and falls as you feel your toe pads grow wet with your own blood. Your vision is full of spots and you can barely see yourself in the mirror.
All you can focus on is your next move and the pain in your feet.
All you can do is dance and dance and-
You're on the floor the next time you blink, feeling groggy as your stomach rumbles. You catch sight of yourself in the mirror as you crawl your way over to your bag, shakily unwrapping an energy bar.
You pull off your pointe shoes and toe pads.
This is so normal to you now that you don't even think about the fact that you just blacked out.
You eat your snack, drain down your sports drink and wrap plasters around your bleeding toes as you dial Mami's number.
She picks up quickly, like always. You can imagine her just sitting at home, waiting for your call.
"Bambi?" She asks as soon as she answers," What's up?"
"Can you come and pick me up?" You ask," I'd like to come home now."
Alexia's already grabbing her keys. Her shoes are already on. She's already out the door.
Something's up with you. She knows this. She just doesn't know what it is. But she knows she'll always be ready to pick you up. Always want to bring you home herself.
You look pale and shaky as she pulls up and, like usual after practice, your bare feet are out of your shoes. They're covered in plasters.
"Did you get your snack?" Alexia asks," You look a little pale."
"I did," You reply," I was just dancing a lot."
"Hmm," Alexia says," You know you can talk to me, right? You know you can tell me anything."
"I know," You say.
"Good. Just...Good. You're a good girl, bambi, and I want you to come to me if you need to talk, alright?"
"I know, Mami," You say with an eye roll.
Alexia holds your gaze for a moment before nodding. "Good. Now, your brother wants a milkshake. Do you want anything at the drive through?"
Your tummy rumbles.
"A meal then," Alexia decides before you can protest," A burger I think. Greasy."
You wince. "Mami-"
"You gave half your dinner to Jaume," She says suddenly," I'll split the meal but it's non-negotiable."
It's fine, you think.
So long as you get to practice early tomorrow, you can work it all off.
#woso x reader#alexia putellas x reader#alexia putellas#woso community#woso imagine#woso fanfics#woso
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"Marry me."
How I think marriage proposals would go for those characters.
Sandor Clegane:
"…Wanna get married ?" You asked as both you and Sandor were sleeping side by side in the forest. Sandor blinked—half asleep. He had back pain and a headache. He had hoped that the wine would help him to fall asleep quicker, as to not have to hear you say any other crazy thing or request for the day. But, of course. He was mistaken.
"Huh ?" When the information seemed to eventually settle in his brain, his whole face seemed a perfect depiction of confusion. He finally turned around and you could see in his eyes that he wasn’t exactly sober either. You decided this was the perfect moment to ask—since he would probably not even remember you asked the next morning. It gave you courage to ask again.
"Wanna get married ?" You repeated with a little more determination and this time, he answered.
"No."
"Ah."
"…"
"…"
"…You. Wanna get married ?" He asked this time—more because he was curious than awaiting an actual answer. But, you took your chance and answered truthfully.
"Sure."
He was momentarily surprised by your confidence before he huffed a laugh and wrapped an arm around you.
"…Fine. We’ll get married in the morning. Now, hush."
There was then a moment of silence before you both bursted out laughing. Just two drunks having the most normal conversation ever. You knew that by tomorrow, he would have surely forgotten all about tonight. But for now, you were satisfied with the knowledge that his subconscience hadn’t said no.
Oberyn Martell:
"Would you like to marry me ?" You asked Oberyn while he wad writing and whose lips curved slightly into a small smirk at the request. He was used to your rather straightforward nature. He liked it even. It made him laugh and enjoy your presence at parties. You were curious and completely unashamed or afraid of any consequences your requests or demands would bring. This is why he always caved. But, he could also be playful and this is why he answered with a small grin:
"No."
He was curious to see your reaction, but his smile slightly faltered when he saw the hurt in your eyes at his rejection. It was the first time he had seen you so upset and he immediately regretted his words.
"Oh. Okay then." You were embarrassed and turned around quickly to get back to your own private quarters. But he was by your side in an instant and wrapped his arms around you from behind.
"I was only kidding. I would LOVE to marry you, sweet peach."
He then kissed the back of your neck lovingly. You let out a sigh of relief as you leaned back against him.
"…Really ?"
He chuckled.
"Yes. Really."
He then kissed your temple and you stayed in his arms for a while before he started nuzzling the back of your neck.
"But what brought the subject, sweet peach ?"
You sighed before closing your eyes.
"…You’re the only one who truly enjoys my presence. You laugh and smile at me, even when my words are nonsense. So I thought…why not ask ?"
Oberyn seemed taken aback for a moment before his smile widened and he pressed your back further against him to kiss your shoulder and whisper in your ear.
"Let me tell you a little secret. I would marry you for your nonsense, my dear. Because your nonsense makes more sense to me than this whole world does…"
Tyrion Lannister:
"Do you want to marry me ?" You asked Tyrion one night and the man was so stunned that he spilled his cup of wine.
"What ?"
Tyrion was the most decent between all the Lannisters. He had helped you more than once and there was no doubt in your proposal. You would never find better husband.
"You heard me."
He stayed silent again and made you nervous. Would he refuse ? Would he tell you that he has already found someone ? Would he tell you that he has no interest in you ? But, he didn’t. He simply sighed.
"…Why ?"
Why ? You could tell him a thousand reasons why. Because he was one of the few good men you knew. Because you had no intention of marrying any other. Because you knew he could be gentle. Because he was funny. Because he could be brave. Because he had the heart of a true lion…but no. You wouldn’t tell him like that. Because even if you did, he wouldn’t believe you.
"Because I want to." You settled for instead and his eyes widened slightly in surprise before he smiled a little and shook his head.
"Why would you want to marry an imp ?"
"It is not an imp that I am marrying, but a prince." You retorted. You both stared at each other and his gaze softened as he started actually considering it for a moment.
"You would be miserable." You frowned in incomprehension at his words.
"Why ?" He glanced away for a second.
"Because I am not a good man."
You huffed a bitter laugh at his words.
"Haven’t you heard ? There are no good man left, my prince."
Tyrion seemed taken aback, but he couldn’t deny the truth behind your words and drank a little of his wine.
"Tell me, Tyrion. If I was to become your wife/husband. Would you hit me ? Would you abuse me ? Would you lie to me ?"
He shook his head with a small smile. No. He wouldn’t. You smiled back and Tyrion finally nodded understandingly. It wasn’t about love. It wasn’t about finding a good man. It was always about finding the one who wouldn’t hurt you…And hence, he understood and maybe…maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have a wife/husband ?
Jaime Lannister:
"Jaime…" You sat down next to him at the feast prepared for the Lannisters and even though you could feel Cersei glaring daggers at you—you grabbed his hand. He didn’t react, but you could feel his fingers slightly curving to hold yours.
"Hello, buttercup." He finally greeted you in a whisper and you couldn’t help but smile weakly. You knew of his heart and his loyalty to his sister. It wasn’t really your business to interfere, but you didn’t like how Cersei was treating him. And, you also knew that his heart could maybe be won over.
So, you did the most nonsense ever and challenged him. You stood up and faced him—catching the attention of everyone in the room as you declared loudly.
"Jaime Lannister. I challenge you to an arm wrestling competition !"
That ought to have gained his attention as his eyes finally met yours and what he found in there made his eyes widen in surprise. You were determined and even though he was a knight—you didn’t seem scared of losing. He tried to laugh and wave it off as a mere joke—but you didn’t back down and even provoked him.
"Are you perhaps not a lion ? But a scared chicken ?"
That oughta do it. He was up before you could even pronounce another word and the fury in his eyes made you smile. He had taken the bait.
"If I win, you must agree to one single demand of my choice without knowing what it is !"
"And if I win ?" He quickly shot back and you bit back a laugh.
"Then I will give you whatever you want."
In a matter of minutes, everything was settled and you were both in position. Everyone assumed you were mad or had consumed too much wine to challenge Jaime Lannister—but it couldn’t be further from the truth. You had planned it carefully. You had trained and trained your body and your mind. You had worn big sleeves to hide the muscles hidden underneath. This could be the most important challenge of your life and you wanted to win. More than anything.
The moment Jaime gripped your hand, his eyes stared straight at you as he realised what you had done. This was not the strength of the Y/N he was accustomed to…but it was too late to stop and in a matter of seconds—Jaime Lannister was on the floor.
Everyone was stunned.
But, you only gracefully stood up from your seat and looked down at him before smirking.
"…I will be waiting for that marriage proposal." And with that, you were out of the room—leaving a very confused Jaime and a very angry Cersei behind. But, you knew that a lion never backed down from his word. And Jaime would be yours.
Petyr Baelish (Littlefinger) :
"Marry me." Littlefinger didn’t even seem surprised by you sudden demand. Everyone knew that your father wished to marry you off to Ramsay Bolton. And even though Littlefinger wasn’t sure why you would come to him with such a request, he didn’t show it.
He didn’t even look up as he simply asked.
"Why ?"
You huffed a bitter laugh. The man would sell mother and father for a throne. And he dared to ask why ?
"Does it matter ?"
He licked his thumb to turn the page of the book he was reading nonchalantly, even though you knew that he was secretly weighing the pros and cons of such an alliance.
"Depends. What will it bring me ?"
You looked away.
"Don’t pretend not to realise how advantageous it would be for you to be a part of the Lannister family. You’d have an easy access to the iron throne."
He hummed and pretended to think about it. It was true marrying you would be a fast way to get access to all the nice advantages of being a part of the so-called prestigious Lannister family. But, it had its own set of disadvantages to consider. He would become more than just a little man in the shadows that no one would deem worthy of being a threat, he would become a lion. A black lion.
"…Tell me why you would lower yourself to such an alliance with me. Surely, there would be one handsome young man who would say yes to such a proposal without even blinking. Why go to me, princess/prince ?"
You hesitated before sighing in defeat.
"…Because if I am to marry a snake, better be one I know than one chosen by Tywin Lannister."
At that, Petyr finally dignified you with a glance. You held his gaze and after a few seconds, he smiled.
"Very well, my beauty. Lead the snake to the lion’s den then."
Sansa Stark:
You and Sansa had been longtime allies and friends. You were maybe the only friend she had ever had after the almost complete destruction of House Stark. You had developed feeling for her over time and knew that asking her for her hand wouldn’t be easy—but you were willing to try.
"Please, Sansa of House Stark." You knelt on one knee before her with a rose in your hand and the other hand on your heart. "Would you marry me ?"
Sansa was surprised by the proposal. She had married twice and both marriages weren’t a success. She had lived through nightmares and pain out of such a dream as marriage. She used to want to get married with someone she loved so badly, but not anymore.
"My heart is not so easily won by a rose and pretty words anymore." She replied instead—thinking that she would succeed in breaking your resolve. But, she was mistaken.
"I know. I know that I may never be worthy of even your eyes on me. But…I am a fool, and my heart beats for you. And if you want it ? Then it’s yours. And even if you don’t want it. Let me fight for you. And prove my loyalty to the most beautiful and strong lady the North has ever seen." You pleaded and Sansa was rendered speechless.
She looked into your eyes and saw only love and adoration. She then glanced down at the rose you offered her and after a moment of hesitation, she finally took it.
"…You may try to win my heart, Y/N. But, I cannot promise you success."
You smiled and shook your head.
"Just having you acknowledge my feelings is enough for hope to enter my heart."
Sansa smiled back.
Maybe…romance wasn’t utterly dead.
Jon Snow: (Before the tragedy 😭)
"Marry me." It was said with such confidence that Jon himself was stunned as he looked up at you with widened eyes.
"What ?"
"You heard me."
There was a moment of silence before Jon smiled and he suddenly pulled you into his arms. There was no yes or no. Just a moment of pure euphoria as he couldn’t stop laughing as he buried his face in your chest. He was so happy, he forgot to form words.
When he was finally calm once more, he kissed you passionately.
"Yes. Yes. Yes, I will."
You both started laughing together and Jon even fell back on the snow as you held him tightly.
Daenerys:
"Marry me." You demanded and Daenerys looked back at you. She didn’t seem surprised or even mildly confused by the demand. She knew of your feelings for her—and she was more than happy to reciprocate.
But, marriage ?
Marriage meant boundaries. Marriage meant attachment. Marriage meant she would have to think about you and a possible future where she wasn’t all powerful.
She sighed before stroking your cheek and offering you an apologetic smile.
"My dear Y/N…If only I could, do not believe for a second that I would say no. But, as the future queen of the Seven Kingdoms…I cannot."
You closed your eyes and a few tears rolled down your cheeks. You had expected such an answer of course, but still…your heart ached.
"I…understand." You forced yourself to say and Daenerys nodded. She was a queen. A khaleesi. And you were just…human.
Ser Jorah:
"Please. Marry me." Ser Jorah was stunned at the unexpected request and turned towards you with widened eyes. He was about to answer when you quickly added.
"Love me. Hate me. I want you and you want her. But, I am not asking for your love. But for your protection, kind ser Jorah." He closes his mouth and seemed to think about it for a moment. He knew that you were a young lady/man who had left her/his family to join Daenerys. He had no idea you held such feelings for him…
"You can have my protection, but why go to such lengths to have it ?" He finally asked and you sighed before taking his hand in yours.
"Because it is not only physical protection I seek." You then laid his hand flat upon your heart and Ser Jorah seemed taken aback once more. He looked at you and you didn’t shy away from his gaze.
You knew Ser Jorah was honourable and even if he would never return your feelings, he would make a far greater husband than anyone you ever knew. He would respect you and your heart. And that was more than you could ever wish for…
Ser Jorah accepted.
After all, it was only his name that you were going to bear and his sword that would protect you. You would call him husband, but only in name.
#sandor clegane x reader#ser jorah x reader#daenerys x reader#jon snow x reader#tyrion lannister x reader#littlefinger#petyr baelish x reader#sansa stark x reader#oberyn martell x reader#jaime lannister x reader#got characters x reader#fandoms#imagine#got
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Hot Ghouls in Your Area
Chapter 2
It was a very weird ride. Danny felt like he was an authority on uncomfortable and strange conversations, given his bizarre family and all the experiences he'd had: but it was exquisitely uncomfortable sitting next to his bride sacrifice and making conversation.
The guy didn't offer his name. He was- honestly, he was built. Danny tried not to get caught visually measuring how absurdly broad the guy's shoulders were. He was weirdly offended that the cultists had sent him someone who was more ripped than he was.
"What's that?" The guy prompted. Jason. This guy's name was Jason. It was a little hard to keep in mind given he didn't really look like a Jason. He looked like… The Red Biker 👻😱🩸 or some shit.
Danny mentally rewound his own babbling and brightened when he realized that there was at least some interest in NASA's newest telescope. He infodumped on rote. It genuinely was an interesting topic! But he'd told 3 people about it already so it didn't take all of his attention.
At one point, Jason pinched his middle finger and used the grip to pull off his glove. Danny swallowed. He tried not to stare at the first glimpse of skin. It was not super light or super dark– a little tanner than Danny, maybe. Not that that said much when he was living like a cave creature in a dorm room, trying to get the grades to be an astronaut.
'He's human,' Danny thought. Of course he was, he'd been sent from earth, but-
He just felt like a ghost.
The confusion put his hackles up. It was weird to perceive this guy as a possible threat. But he wasn't! He was just some hot dummy who got caught by friggin Jeremy Waters. Jeremy. Come on. It didn't get much sadder than that.
But overall? He could see why the Infinite Realms had gotten mixed up enough to accept this guy. Red was definitely weird enough to be a ghost, dressed up for the combination war front/biker bar/club. He hadn't made a move to take off his ugly motorcycle helmet the whole time they'd been talking. It was kind of creepy, to be honest.
The most disturbing part was that he smelled, like, really good. He smelled like sexy death and Danny kinda wanted to roll around in it like the world's most educated cat.
It was with some relief that Danny bounded away from his semi husband, up the stairs to Clockwork. "You know who it is and why I'm here!" He hollered, hands making a megaphone shape around his mouth. "Help me! I'm too young to be a child bride."
"Technically," Clockwork said, floating pleasantly into view, "you are too old to be a child bride. As you are not a child, Danny."
He waved that off. "I'm a kid on the inside," he dismissed. "And 19 is basically a high schooler."
"As you say." Clockwork drifted away. Danny followed. "How is your university coursework?"
"It's fine." Danny shrugged. "The Gen Eds are giving me war flashbacks to Mr. Lancer, though."
"You liked him," Clockwork said.
Danny bristled. "I did not!"
He kinda had. Mr. Lancer could have been a lot worse.
That was beside the point. Danny caught up to his ghost mentor. "I can't be distracted from this," he said, aiming for stern. "There's some human out there who wants to go home. I also want him to go home. How do we make that happen ?"
"Why Danny, have you forgotten about portals?"
Danny scowled. "You know what I mean," he groused. "I want to send him home single. Unattached. Not married to me at all."
Clockwork finally stopped moving and looked directly at him. His large eyes held only a kind of curiosity. "I suppose that you could banish him. That would have the effect of ending your relationship."
Danny hesitated. He'd learned that accepting suggestions on their face could go very badly. "That seems kinda harsh," he said. "Would there be any repercussions of that?"
Clockwork hummed from the back of his throat. "Yes, it would prevent young Jason from becoming a ghost when he passes again. Excuse me, I want that shelf behind you."
Danny moved out of the way on reflex before he processed those words. "That sounds bad."
The older ghost seemed to shrug. "The Ghost king can banish ghosts, and your paramour is ghostly enough to qualify. It would solve your current dilemma."
He deliberately chose not to respond to the word 'paramour.'
"I'm actually looking for a solution that doesn't interfere with the state of his soul and afterlife," Danny said dryly. Then he blinked. "You're really gonna call him Jason?"
Clockwork reached up and withdrew a metal object from the shelf. It clicked in his hand. "Indeed."
Danny waited for another divorce suggestion. When Clockwork didn't give one, he groaned. "How do I find another solution?" He asked, tired. This was another test, wasn't it? It was a chance for him to problem solve on his own.
That netted him a beaming smile. "You should take him to the royal library."
"And look for information about ghost divorces?" Danny asked. Clockwork gave him an enigmatic smile.
He chose to believe that was a yes. Danny patted his mentor's shoulder. "Thanks!" He shouted, already turning on his heel. "I'll do that. Have a good day!"
"Goodbye, Danny."
Jason hadn't moved at all, sitting weirdly tense and tall in the passenger seat. Danny gave him a nervous smile as he jumped in.
"Did you find out anything?" Jason asked. His voice was even enough to obscure whatever it was he thought, and the helmet made the words come out kinda flat and mechanical.
Danny winced. "Yes and no," he said, trying to find cheerful. "The first solution seems kinda bad, to be honest, so let's go to the library and look for another one!"
"...Ghosts have public libraries?" Jason said.
"No," Danny said. And then he frowned. "Maybe? I don't know. I haven't seen one but I haven't been here long. We're going to Pariah's creepy old castle to look at his library." He started up the Specter Speeder and took off. "It's big. And he was a real creep, so he probably had, uh." He cleared his throat. "Paramours." His face was getting hot and red. Maybe it wasn't obvious. He tried to look unaffected. "Probably why that ritual was out there," he babbled. Wow, the minutes separating their destinations felt very long when he was digging a verbal hole. "He probably had a lot of sacrifices he accepted, maybe that's where the skeleton army came from actually."
"Skeleton army?" Jason managed to sound incredulous through the world's ugliest motorcycle helmet. "How do ghosts and skeletons both exist in proximity?" He cleared his throat. "I mean, if you don't need the physical body to exist, why would anyone retain their corpse?"
Danny laughed nervously. "Yeah, that's weird," he agreed.
'Don't ask me afterlife questions,' he mentally begged. 'I just work here. I don't know the answers.'
"Metaphysically-"
"Do you like sports?" Danny interrupted in a high voice.
Jason paused. "No. Do you?"
"...Not really," Danny admitted, thinking of getting ganged up on in dodgeball and knocked down in basketball.
They existed in what felt like a confused silence for a few minutes. Danny parked the Speeder outside of the castle and I clicked his seatbelt with a rush of relief. "We're here," he said. He threw open the top.
Jason didn't move from where he was flat against the backrest, only lifting his head. "... Should I come too?"
Danny blinked down at him and waved a hand in invitation. "Yeah, let's go. This is kinda my place now so I can invite you in."
Jason moved forward abruptly, like he'd just gotten unstuck from the seat. Something about it looked wrong to his hindbrain. But Danny dismissed it and started off at a jog. It wasn't his business if Jason was a weird little guy. (Weird big guy? It didn't sound the same, but Jason wasn't petite.)
Jason paused on the battlements. Danny looked back and tried to see it from his perspective. The architecture was jagged, pitch black, and without any of the friendly colorful touches a castle should have. "It's kind of creepy," he said apologetically. "Pariah has just the worst vibe. Rancid energy."
"...Is it smart to say that?" Jason wondered. He started walking again.
Danny shrugged. "What's he gonna do to me?" He asked rhetorically. "Get his butt kicked again?"
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A DC X DP IDEA #26
History hates Lovers
Imagine dis…
When Batman got lost in time it was said that he made some signs or even some symbols that send a message in the future. For example, a portrait that looked exactly like him or even a cave painting of a bat that looked too modernized to be from the early cavemen.
But it seems that we have forgotten that every change that he made whether it was just standing in a portrait as a background has a severe consequence in the time stream. The butterfly effect rests on the notion that the world is deeply interconnected, such that one small occurrence can influence a much larger complex system. The effect is named after an allegory for chaos theory; it evokes the idea that a small butterfly flapping its wings could, hypothetically, cause a typhoon.
Small changes could result in another and entirely new timeline, whether the changes were small enough that people don’t notice or large enough that people merely conceived it as normal.
But at the end of the day it still changes, so how did the timeline remain stable as it is?
(I am no expert in time travel so don’t get your hopes up, I do enjoy a good time travel or time travel -fix it fic in A03)
…
Bruce didn’t know where and when he is right now. Still weak and disoriented from the consent way he fell from each timeline. One moment he could be in the middle of a group of cavemen and then he was at the edge of a town in the Middle Ages.
He kept sending messages subtle as they may be, as long as they survived the passage of time and arrived to his future. He just hopes that his teammates can see his messages, especially with the flash in their midst who had both knowledge and experience in time travel.
He tried to fit in every time he tried to send a message as the last thing, he needed was to change the time.
…
But little did Bruce know the little messages he kept making and sending, despite their subtleness still created a butterfly effect. It makes some of the people in the period who were supposed to be in time to some event pause and take a look at the mysterious symbols and signs that Bruce made. Thus, making them late or even have some delay, thus creating a large domino effect that started small. From insignificant people, people who are just literally background characters who just have a very short greeting or meeting with someone in the event made the entire timeline crack.
Clockwork was looking at the time stream due to the fragile situation at hand. CW knew that this event was crucial for the Red Robin’s growth as a detective and vigilante. But the small cracks are turning into something unchangeable, CW knew that this was the only communication that the Dark Knight could send as well it was his way to get back to his own time.
Yet CW can see the cracks getting larger and larger, with each move that the Dark Knight made creating more holes in his known future. Usually, such events as the Dark Knight's faces don’t create any consequences or even affect the time stream of the said dimension as it was meant to be. An event unavertable in the end is more justifiable than the means.
But due to the Flash family going back in time as well the countless time traveler visitors made the time stream in that dimension week and prone to break in any given time. It was just a surprise to CW that it lasted so long.
CW found a solution in the form of his apprentice/ grandson, Phantom. Despite the young ghost being an Ancient of Space as well as the King of Infinite Realms he still needs a mentor to not only guide him to his new duties as an Ancient but also his responsibilities as the future High King.
Space and Time are two sides of the same coin thus CW ended up being the mentor of the young Phantom.
Clockwork sent Danny to not only seal in the cracks in the flow of time but also want some great-grandchildren, if you heard the last part then you heard nothing from me.
…
Danny didn’t know he was getting in when Clockwork sent him out to another errand at another time. He should have gotten used to CW’s vague and cryptic errands through time when he was a teen, but as he was sealing another crack from time, he saw something that shouldn’t be in the period. A man clearly from out of time trying and failing to fit in, though he may have fooled the locals but he had been traveling and fixing time since he was in high school.
At first, he looked perplexed but if CW didn’t mention anything then he won’t do anything.
But slowly Danny realized that whichever period the guy was in, it was where the next set of cracks would be, so Danny decided to follow the guy.
…
Bruce may still be weary and tired from the constant falling through time but even in his tired state can see that there is someone following him.
Every era there that man was, seemingly walking around aimlessly but then he noticed that he kept a good distance away from him.
Eventually, it led to and confrontation between the two males.
…
Danny who explained that despite having the power to travel through time cannot help Bruce as his little messages are creating small cracks in the time stream and are merely there to seal up the cracks, but offers news that he will get back to his own time.
Bruce who is just wishing for human contact that relates to him as well in the verge of going off to the Flash to stop going back in time for another chance to eat a breakfast that tasted better than before.
…
The two began conversing with one another and slowly fell in love.
…
Bruce is the first one to fall hard, Danny whose light-heartedness brought Bruce out of his shell. It had only taken a few conversations with each other to lose his shield around his heart. Danny both accepted both Bruce and Batman within him. Danny’s smile lights up Bruce’s world, at first Bruce tries to hide his feelings to Danny so as not to lose his only companion throughout the ordeal.
…
The two began dancing around their feelings and Bruce in an out of character of him sent a love letter and a poem to Danny when the ghost was needed somewhere else to seal the crack.
As old as I am, I have had the most dreadful experiences in love. I have a very dark past and I'm a damaged soul. My past experiences have groomed me into believing that there's no such thing as true love, but with you, I feel different. You make me fall in love with myself too. You always make me smile, and I'm scared. I'm scared to fall in love and get broken again, I'm scared to give my all, only to be used again, to get shamed and embarrassed. I've seen how careful and caring you are around me, but sometimes you give me a cold shoulder, and it's small things like these that break me. Please bear with me and be fragile. I come from a very painful past where I had to be a woman and have no say. All this love and affection is a little scary to me because I'm not used to it. I'm falling for you and I'm falling hard. I hope our love story has a happy ending. Know that I will always love and cherish you.
(Mmakoma Kamogelo. "My Confession." Family Friend Poems, September 6, 2016. https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/my-confession-2)
Danny who received the letter burned red from reading the poem to the point his freckles were the only thing prominent on his red face, Danny knew that this man was from the future and couldn't help but feel a little bit insecure. That man, the Batman is someone out of his league but sends out a letter and a poem of his own.
Published by Family Friend Poems September 2016 with permission of the Author.
My love for you is uncontrollable.
My feelings for you are unstoppable.
Can't go a day without thinking about you.
Without you, I'm not complete.
With you, my heart finds its beat.
My heart is filled with joy because of your love.
You are my strength, and without you I'm weak.
Before you came into my life, I was
Hopeless, lonely, sad.
When you showed up, I knew that you were sent to me. (Namely CW, Danny just knew that old Ancient did something)
You are always here to support me.
Your smile makes me shy,
And sometimes I wonder where you have been all this while,
But I'm just glad that I managed to get you in my life...
YOU FILL MY HEART WITH JOY!
(Mmakoma Kamogelo. "My Confession." Family Friend Poems, September 6, 2016. https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/my-confession-2)
…
When the two realized both were pinning to one another began sending each other little love notes, in the form of short poems to full-blown letters.
Both males whenever received a letter when one was apart, collected and hid it in a box to reread each stroke of the letter from the other, and whenever they were together, they just spent the entire day basking in each other’s presence.
Their little note exchange didn’t stop whenever Bruce fell to another period, Danny just followed him and started a new exchange mail of letters.
Of course, both used pseudonyms in their letters ranging from initials to fake names using only the letters from their names.
…
When Bruce was saved by Red Robin, he felt relieved as he could now stop falling into another period but another shock as he didn’t get to say goodbye to Danny.
Bruce knew that someday it come, but he was going to offer Danny the future with him. He is going to offer Danny the world, but it seems that it was never meant to be.
Maybe that’s why his past self never met Danny, too disappointed, too dejected to meet him once again.
…
It has been a few months since he came back to his future, it was another family outing organized by Dick.
It was a museum featuring the latest found by archeologists, as Bruce was surveying case to another case, he fell upon a worn-out parchment with his handwriting.
Wide-eyed, Bruce looked closely at the exhibit and found that the description said the letter was about a man named “Brooks” confessing his love in the form of a short poem to a woman named “Daniella” who had the same feelings as him but had other responsibilities to fully go where he is.
Bruce began looking at the other exhibits and there along rows and rows of his letter exchange with Danny from different periods.
Jason and Tim who were a few cases away from him began having a heated discussion with a stranger about the supposed woman in the letters being a man the entire exchange is between a pair of male couple, and the so-called Historians are hiding the fact that it was between men.
Bruce was about to interfere with the upcoming verbal fight when a stranger beside him commented that “Daniella” probably missed “Brooks” as the last letter and poem to the exchange when “Daniella” noticed that “Brooks” is no longer responding is…
(By E.E. Cummings)
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)I am never without it(anywhere
I go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
I fear
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
(E.E. Cummings. "[i Carry Your Heart With Me(i Carry It In]." Family Friend Poems, https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/i-carry-your-heart-with-me-by-ee-cummings)
Bruce is startled as he doesn’t even notice Danny’s last letter to him when he takes a good look at the stranger…
…
There he is, Danny in his early 30’s looking at him with softness and deep love in his eyes and a gentle smile. As if he hadn’t waited centuries for Bruce to appear once again, and what looked like willing to wait once again for him.
…
PS: If someone out there wanted to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.
PPS: As you can see, I have never fallen in love and please mind my poor and lack of love life in my life to relate to my work.
PPPS: I decided to post a bit early, I've got something going on to the actual February 14.
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I imagine Donna to still eventually ask what the doctor has been up to. Maybe she does so while they're stuck doing a chore together like the laundry or dishes. And the doctor will try to avoid it like he always does, but caves under Donna's stare. He'd still keep it vague, speaking more about the companions the toymaker spoke of and cautiously daring to honour their memory like that while keeping himself away from the hurtful bits. He even jokes a bit about who he ended up becoming. He'd admit he had an obsession with bowties and had sonic sunglasses once, and Donna would laugh and say she'd LOVE to see that.
Then, after a pause, Donna asks if he's ever stumbled upon her with a different face, and with a hushed breath he admits he hasn't.
She grows a bit silent, grieving a thought she wished were reality. And then the doctor pipes up again.
"This isn't actually the first familiar face I've gotten...-WELL not another one of my OWN faces, but certainly something familiar."
Intrigued, Donna stops what she's doing and listens to him explain further.
"When I first got it I couldn't place where I'd gotten it from. I just, knew it was familiar...... -I didn't linger on it as long as I should've and I moved on rather quickly."
"Why?" Donna asked, a bit bewildered at the thought of it.
"I was careless and angry and sort of... Scottish.-ANYways one day me and Clara were dragged to this viking village that had gotten itself into trouble, and we helped them. But this village girl had, uhm... Well she didn't make it. I was so angry -I remember that anger really well. And Clara kept on asking if there was something I could do..."
"Well, was there?" By now both of them weren't doing their chores anymore and all they could hear was the singing of a couple of starlings outside.
"...Yes, but it would've broken some rules."
Donna already knew what exactly he meant by that. She would figure that's the end of it, yet the doctor kept on talking.
"But then as I was rotting in my defeat, I remembered this important day I shouldn't ever have forgotten. The day we were in Pompeii... And only then did I realise that face, MY face, was a reminder of something very important you told me. To just, save someone."
"...So you mean, your face..." The doctor nodded, and Donna couldn't help but finally release the breath she'd been holding with a smile.
"I did save her and she ended up living a long, long, longlonglonglonglong life... But even after hundreds of years, when I doubted myself and needed it most, Donna Noble... Your impact on the world and my life, persisted."
And I imagine the doctor to give her a big, proud smile, before Donna pulls him in for a big hug he wasn't expecting to receive. Because maybe, just maybe, that was exactly what she needed to hear that day.
Then once they return to their chores, I imagine Donna to think about it a bit longer and make a comment. "Well you better never take on my face!" And the doctor would dissolve into a pouty ramble about how he has no control over it while also being a bit disappointed she's said no.
#sorry yall i got carried away#doctor who#fanfic#I GUESS. i went off the rails#the doctor#14th doctor#donna noble#dw 60th anniversary#doctor who 60th anniversary#dw 60th#nuwho#doctor who donna#doctor who special#semi fic#headcanon#dw headcanon#doctor who headcanon#12th doctor#clara oswald#doctor who ashildr#ashildr#talkies
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Ahem-Anon reporting for duty 🫡
I have come with a mighty need. The need is called: dragon miguel and mermaid reader. I mean hmmmggh? So cute? he a firey dragon, she a pretty lil mermaid? He totes call her his sirenita. Total opposites and kinda a forbidden love? A romeo and juliet thing, minius the tragic death ending. And they always secretly meet in a cave (miguel build it so his sirenita can swim there) they decorated it together and it’s just the best of both, their own little world and happy place. And i can’t help but wonder how do they do the 👀👀👀👀 and omg what if he gets her pregnant and all? Like he was away for a few months to defend his territory and she surprises him with her baby bum and its all dragon nest building and him being protective as f. Also scared because damn? This is a first since the beginning of time. Baby Gabi would totes be the first waterdragon 😂
Can I have your imagination borrowed for a second? Please? HOLY fuck. When I read dragon Miguel only reminded me of that beautiful fan art of him as a dragon I saw on Pinterest ♥️♥️. A bit long if you squint.
Crimson. His hands were covered in little crimson stains that oozed from his side. He was... injured.
Impossible.
A dragon? Like him? The King of Dragons. Foolish. But as much as he wanted to shake the measly pain that pulsated every time he moved forward, to the rocky cannon on the forgotten beach, it remained there, etched and oozing.
The cannons were used as his lair, his home. He collapsed on what seemed to be his bed, a l shaped stone that was a few meters away from a small entrance from the sea. Like a secret entrance.
The splashing as he collapsed alarmed him, red eyes shone in anger as a low growl echoed through. And then, his eyes settled on you. Burning eyes softened in curiosity as he saw dainty fingers peeking behind a stone, your eyes settled on him, watching his every move.
Was he hallucinating? No.
He certainly wasn't because the creature stared at him, more specifically to his wound. You went back on the water, long fish-like tail, shining softly, like if the rainbows had decided to adhere in your scales.
A mermaid?
He believed them extinct. Humans had surely haunted everything they could lay their wretched hands on.
A few moments later, the splashing returned, this time you weren't hiding behind the rock. You were before him, naked torso, wet hair stuck on your back. Hands holding what it seemed to be a moss-like plant within a shell. You offered. He frowned.
Why would he trust her? for all he knew Mermaids were also wretched creatures that lured men to death. But your frown matched his, like you had you just read his thoughts.
"Your blood will only attract other creatures that won't be as kind as I am" You mumbled. His eyes widened slightly. Of course you could speak. His blood dripped on the water and you scrunched your nose, pushing the shell further near him.
"You're welcome" you giggled and went back from where you came.
--------
Ever since that encounter, Miguel would certainly find subtle ways to lure you back to him. He surely wasn't inmune to mermaid beauty, his trust issues however made always to look past your looks, he wanted to find out what your intentions were, why you were always willing to just stare at him, expecting to something to happen, why would you always come back.
"Im just curious as to why I have been forbidden to mingle with the creatures above. You aren't that bad."
You'd smile sweetly at him to look back at the water.
"I gotta go. Will I see you again?"
He'd just nod and you disappeared.
His injury had been long healed. A couple of hours after you had offered the moss actually.
--------
He'd see you again and again, almost every day, a weird sort of fear settled in his chest whenever you didn't show up for more than three days. You had created this sort of routine where you would just show up, staring at eachother until one of you, (you mostly of the time) asked for questions.
What was up there on land? Was there a lot of humans? Who was he? Why was he hiding? Patiently he'd explain through short answers just to see the glint in your eyes at every word that came from his mouth.
Three days had passed, no sign from you, until you'd appear again, cuts and wounds covering your body, sweet scented blood oozed from your cuts, too tired to remain conscious.
Humans. They had tried to hunt you.
He'd pick you up and put you to safety, your torso resting in the sand. A few droplets of his blood wetted your lips. You'd be fine when he'd return. He turned on his back, rage boiling as the beast within him roared to be set free. He flew away with a new target on sight. The docks.
----
You were his adoration. Despite the world trying to hurt you, you remained kind, ever sweet and curious. You were his Sirenita.
He'd burn entire ships for you. The world itself if you asked him nicely enough. Dragon's nature prevented him to share with others. Not that he wanted to share you with anyone else anyway. It was only you and him.
The first kiss held so much passion, sweetness and longing. You couldn't lay in his lap without feeling dizzy by the lack of water after a few minutes. A trouble that seemed a big impediment to completely have you for himself.
He disappeared with the promise of coming back.
Was he?
You didn't know but hope set in your heart. He had never broken a promise so far.
----
Upon his return he gave you a small potion jar, you drank it after he explained what would it do. Bit by bit fins and scales were shedded from you, melding into humanoid like features, only to finally reveal supple and unmarred human legs and feet.
You were now also part human. He kissed you, cradling your wobbly body on his strong arms.
----
You mated almost every night, the once hidden cannon on the beach, forgotten, as he had taken you to his real home. Hidden away in the mountains, but close enough to the sea to sate your need of swimming and dive. You could shape-shift at will. But preferred to be with him, nesting in his arms.
-----
You'd notice your belly expanding and getting rounder by each month. He had noticed too. The urge to devour and crush anyone who trespassed in his home had only turned stronger, making his dragon form to become more vicious to the outside, yet careful to not being discovered.
Miguel would feed you, take care of you until a baby was born. It was a girl.
He was The Dragon King. And now a father.
A clueless one if you might add.
He'd flinch when tiny baby arms would flail to take a hold of him. He'd growl whenever said baby wailed at night, interrupting his rough mating with you. Strangely enough, his daughter only quieted down when he held her or you nursed her.
----
He'd marvel with pride as his daughter swum through the waters, faster than a ship could ever do. But of course the three would remain hidden from the world. Away from prying and wretched hands that could hurt you.
You both were his treasure. The things he held dear the most.
#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara x reader#t writes✨#atsv miguel#SO FUN TO WRITE THIS ♥️#dragon!au#Dragon! Miguel O'Hara#Ahem Anon
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(Recommended) GOOD OMENS FICS THAT TEACH YOU STUFF
Was inspired by @maaikeatthefullmoon who posted a fic rec list, and I wanted to do something similar.
Because I like to learn while I read. Sometimes I’ll read a fic and had no idea that Things Could Be Like That, and I’m just floored, thinking about it for days, googling and crying. As I haven’t the best memory, I might have forgotten some, and I might add more later. Everything is rated E or M because I only read the slick and sloppy.
THE LIST
1: For Loving One (AU) - World War II has never really interested me, and I didn’t know much about what it was like to be queer back then. I just assumed almost everyone was out to get you (and I wasn’t wrong), but I just didn’t have any reference material. Now I do, as it’s clear the author knows a lot about this topic. This is a beautiful story, well researched, with just enough happy and just enough angst. I’ve learned a lot, entirely without meaning to.
2: Epistolary - one of my favorite tropes, which is Crowley finding and reading Aziraphale’s diary and stumbling upon very private thoughts and YearningTM throughout history. There are plagues, there are Aztec ritual sacrifices, there’s a long-haired, sleeping Crowley in a cave and Aziraphale losing his mind yearning over (literally over) said sleeping Crowley.
3: exodus2 (canon compliant AU - yes, it’s possible) - Ezra and Crowley, programming students in their early 20s, meet at university in a totalitarian European state, and both have an interest in banned media and causing some trouble. You’ll learn some Hebrew, some Yiddish and Scandinavian - and how to start an insurrection against the State. And, there are (banned) book recommendations!
4: A Godawful Small Affair - What if Vince Taylor wasn’t Bowie’s inspiration for Ziggy Stardust? A fic that placed me firmly in a music scene I’ve never immersed myself in, in a decade I somehow skipped over. Yes, I know, I’m weird - but I’ve learned a lot! It’s sweet and it really feels probable.
5: Rough Enough for Love (AU) - As an AFAB person, I’ve learned so much about… uh, the subjective intricacies of AMAB anatomy. Also, it’s nice to skip the yearning sometimes and just read them having their cake and eating it too.
6: The False and the Fair (AU) - I knew nothing about West Virginia, nor about coal mining. It has all the feels and if this was about anyone other than the ineffables I wouldn’t have read it and I would have missed out. I’ve learned so much about a society and a setting so far from everything I thought I was interested in. Don’t miss out!
7: A Gift of Words - Okay, it’s not slick and sloppy - but VERY sweet, and I learned a lot about Gutenberg and the printing press. Crowley changes the world for his angel, by giving him (arguably) his most favorite thing.
—
Let me know if YOU wrote a fic in which you teach the reader about something you have special knowledge of! I’d like to read, learn and link to it.
As a treat: a picture of a peacock because I’m on holiday in Portugal.
And yes, one of my fics is in there. Not ashamed. Hah!
#crowley#ineffable husbands#good omens fandom#good omens 2#aziraphale x crowley#crowley x aziraphale#ineffable spouses#innefable husbands#ineffable divorce#good omens fic recs#good omens fic rec#good omens fanfiction#good omens fanfic rec#good omens au#good omens after dark#good omens inspired#aziracrow
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Rubies Hidden With Blood -Aemond Targaryen
Authors Note: Hello, thank you for the patience while I am on a writing break. I’m still trying to figure out life and how to fix it, but I channeled some of the pain and anger into this and I hope you like it . I hope you are all staying safe and healthy out there in the world - Ultralightpoe
Warnings: mentions of executions, adultery, foul language
Word Count: 4996
MAIN Master List
Description: Inspired by Anne Boleyn and Elizabeth. (INSPIRED. You are not either of them you’re a character inspired by them)
(Thank you for the gif @onemillionyous )
x Enjoy! x
To Anne Boleyn, who spent the last month of her life preparing for the rest of her daughters life to the best of her ability. Every stitch and warning given was noticed.
And to Elizabeth, who spent the rest of her life hiding footprints for her mother in a home that had tried to strip her memory.
To the bond of the two, never truly understood.
-
You stood, stiff and freezing in the cold weather, on the very steps your mother walked up the day she was executed. A message you were very sure your father intended, one that you would not cave into.
Verlain, your fathers hand, stood to your right with a grim expression as he did his best to stop looking to the stained spot at the top of the steps. Where her blood had leaked down, seeping into the stone in a mark that would be there forever. It would be centuries before her death would be forgotten, a fact that sent a wave of nausea through you, gripping you in its fierce hold as you tried to inhale some fresh air. Fighting to keep the tears welling in your eyes at bay as the corset constricts against your ribs.
Breathe. Keep your wits about you.
“Are you feeling alright, your highness?” Verlain asks, eyebrows pinching together as he watches your hand slide across the front of your dress, as if you could ease the ache in your ribs and lungs from rubbing it. His tone slips at the last two words and you have to bite back the bitter laugh, not willing to risk your breath on it.
A moon ago you had been nothing more than a bastard to this court, upon his orders. Anyone within earshot of his majesty knew that the forsaken daughter of the castle whore would be painted a bastard the rest of her life.
The second her body had been carted off he had your handmaiden pack you up, sending you both to an estate far off, so that he would never have to look upon your face again.
“You haunt me! You plain cunt! You HAUNT ME!” He had yelled the day you begged, the day you crawled to your knees begging him to keep you. Of course you haunted him, you had her face. And whether he had to look upon you or not you were sure she haunted his every move.
She surely hadn’t visited you since she passed. There were no ghosts in the offwood estate. This castle, however, had more than you could dare keep track of.
But you hadn’t seen her. Whether you should be thankful for that had yet to be seen.
“Princess?” Verlain asks again, taking a step up, getting closer as he extends a hand to you. “Prin-“
“Don’t call me that.” You sneer, slapping his hand away from you and readjusting the veil that covered your face. Even with your back turned to the spit you could still see her blood on the stone, gulping quickly. Don’t look. Don’t. Look.
But Verlains eyes cast behind you to the stain, his neck showing an audible gulp before he guiltily looks back to you. “Princess, I never got to speak with you after-“
“I’m not your princess.” Your tone was cold, and you made a show of shooing him away. “And you should mind yourself, Lord Verlain. If his majesty catches you this close he might think ill of the intent.”
Verlains face pales, the man stepping back so quickly he nearly slips on the steps before turning back to the courtyard below, fixing his embellished attire.
You missed being a bastard. A bastard would never be sold off like this.
There was a war brewing, and many of the kingdoms were beginning to panic for alliances, this kingdom included. And there was one ally that everyone wanted, the seven kingdoms. Westeros. For there was truly no war that could be won against them.
You’d never seen a dragon, and if this was any under circumstance you would be excited. But this was your very own death march. Or as your mothers own prophet had claimed “you’ll earn your mothers reckoning.”
There was an ax somewhere out there with your name on it….. or maybe the jaw of a dragon ready to chew you up.
Before you could much more on it a firm grip snatches the back of your neck, pulling a gasp from you as it pulls you to them aggressively, the smell of wine filling your senses. “You step a foot out of line today and I’ll have your head just like I had your fucking mothers. You hear me, bastard? I’ll spike in on a fucking post.”
You can only nod, afraid that if you give a verbal response you might whine in pain, and you refuse to show him that weakness. He takes your response, letting go before moving to speak with Verlain as your older sister and little brother stand off to the side.
The best way to secure an alliance was through marriage. Your older sister couldn’t be married off since she was already married to a lord, and your younger brother was the heir to the kingdom, not to mention the Targaryens didn’t have many girls to marry off.
But they had Aemond Targaryen, the rumored demon of Westeros, with one eye and the largest dragon.
So you were renamed a princess, one that would be able to marry a prince.
Princess of whores being married to a prince of monsters. If your mother could see you now.
Bile rises up your throat as the memory of her face flashes through your mind, your eyes once again welling with tears. Stop thinking about her. Stop stop stop stop stop.
The heavy sound of thunder pulls your attention, blinking slowly as you try to peer through the veil to see the storm on its way, only to see clear skies. Confusion fills you as your brother gasps loudly, and then you see them, a hoard of dragons filling the skylines as their wings flap in unison . Not thunder, dragons.
Nausea fills you once more, and yet your mouth goes dry, fists clenching into the heavy skirts of your dress as you spot the older dragon riding in the back, a blur of long white hair flying with it.
And you know without a doubt, your future husband has arrived.
-
“Listen to me.” She sobs, falling to her knees before you as you cry out, the banging on the door scaring you even more than her tears. “You need to listen to me.”
“Where is papa?!” You scream, your mothers handmaidens rushing around the room as she pulls your face closer to hers by the back of your neck, pressing your foreheads together.
“Listen. To. Me.” She seethes, wiping your tears with a swipe of her thumb. “Breathe. Keep your wits about you. I need you to remember that these people are not your kin. They are not yours. They will not protect you.”
“Mama-“
“And your father is not- do. Not. Trust. Your. Father.”
“Mama please-“
“You need to remember to breathe. Breathe. Keep your wits about you. And?”
“Breathe. Keep your wits about you. And…. Unbowed, unbent, unbroken. They cannot break me.”
“Good. Good girl.” She sobs, reaching to kiss your forehead, her lips holding there for a long moment as the door to your mothers apartments break open and the guards storm in.
The handmaidens pull you back quickly, right as your mother shoves something in the top of your dress before they are on her. There is no gentleness in the way they grab her by her hair and drag her out, and there is no gentleness in the grip the handmaidens keep on you as you claw and bite to get to her.
By the time they are out of sight there is nothing left but her shoe that had fallen as she was dragged out, and what she had hidden in your dress.
Your mother had been taken.
-
Aemond was sick of the wind, a feeling he never thought he would get and yet it has arrived. He was ready to land, get a break from the beast below his thighs and have a meal that hadn’t been dried and shoved into a satchel last week.
His mothers boat stayed below them, his eldest sister's dragon taking the lead of their travel in the front as his uncle stuck to her right. Aegon, a spoiled brat through and through, was left in Kings Landing to act as King Regent as Rhaenyra traveled with them.
Helaena and Jacaerys keeping him in check.
But his brother had gotten under Aemonds skin just fine before they left, whispering rumors about his future bride in drunken slurs that made him both angry in a protective manner and angry in nervousness that the whispers might be true.
“They passed her mother around the court like a toy to their whims, and when she was used up they killed her and replaced her with her daughter. You’ll get nothing but a rag dear brother.”
The kingdom they flew to now had always been secretive within itself, and word rarely left it’s shores. The only thing anyone really knew is they had an army of soldiers that had yet to be conquered, who wore gold armor and spoke in ancient whispers.
He is snapped out of his haze as Rhaenyra signals to land, and Aemond takes a moment to rejoice in the feeling of his feet on soil, focusing on that the entire hike up to the castle with his mothers arm now looped into his as Vhagar and the ship are left at the docks.
“Don’t be nervous.” Alicent Hightower whispers, reaching a hand to swipe at his cheek, humming in discontent before licking the pad of her thumb and swiping his cheek once more. He groans, trying to pull back.
Even if she meant well he knew his mother never understood how painful the skin near his eye was. The scar was always pulling and swollen, not to mention how hard the eye was to clean if the patch moved even the slightest bit.
“I hear she’s beautiful.” Lucerys offers, keeping close to his own mothers side. “You saw her painting!”
Indeed Aemond had, and like a lovestruck fool he had stared at it for hours until it was time to go. The very painting now sat in his chambers, waiting to be hung for after the wedding…. If there was to be a wedding.
His chest tightens as the castle steps come into view, multiple figures dressed in their finest clothes standing among them.
In the front, in the most ridiculous frille of red and gold, stood the king. A smug smile laced on his features as an overly large crown stands on his head. Beside him with her arms crossed primly was a younger woman, wearing a smaller tiara of red rubies and a busty gown that he was sure Aegon would have leered at, smiling from ear to ear.
The king and his 5th wife then, and behind him a bit to the left on an upper step, had to be Verlain. The hand to the king.
Two more figures a bit further up, one clad in a light blue dress, rubbing at her stomach softly as she watched with nothing more than a nervous expression. Making eye contact with Aemond for just a moment before her face goes red and she looks away, disgust at himself rising in his chest.
What will my future wife think? He wonders, panic clawing at his throat. Will she refuse me? Will I truly be so ugly?
Before he can take a closer look at the boy beside the pregnant woman he looks over to…. You. Standing a little further to the right of the rest, obviously not really knowing where else to go, with a veil covering your face and wearing a gown of black and red. The long petticoat skirts held within your hands, the long bell sleeves barely covering your hands and the cape connected to the back of the dress making you look every bit pristine.
The first thing he notes is the lack of jewelry. No rings, no crown or tiara, no bracelets. An odd thing since the rest of your family was completely adorned with anything they could find.
“Queen Rhaenyra.” The king smiles, bowing his head the slightest inch, a fact that has both Aemond and Damon straightening. A slight to Rhaenyra, he was sure. “And her traveling companions. We welcome you.”
Aemond risks another look to you as Verlain extends a hand to help you descend the stairs. He can’t hear anything of what anyone is saying as he watches you, heart thumping through his chest at your every movement.
“-and this is my daughter.” The king mumbles out, his tone tightening at the phrase daughter as you bow gracefully, neck going low as you curtsy need to Rhaenyra then greet the rest of the party in correct order. Before he could say anything you lift the veil and his breath catches.
The oil painting did you no Justice. And within moments he found himself yearning to trace his fingers over your cheek as he had done to the painting to see how the softness would compare.
“And this is my brother, Aemond Targaryen. First of his name, rider of the great Vhagar and-“
“It is an honor.” The king interrupts Rhaenyra, your cheeks tinging with blush as your jaw tightens. You must know your father is being disrespectful then, and at least one of you has the decency to be embarrassed.
“As much as I love flattery,” he begins, not tearing his eyes from you. “I’d prefer if you showed my sister more respect. Last person to disrespect her so had his head sliced through the middle.”
Daemon has the audacity to check his nails for dirt as Rhaenyra sends him a knowing look, his mother tightening her hold on his elbow in approval before moving to you.
“It is an honor to meet you.” She holds out both hands, which you calmly place your own above as you watch her, and Aemond sees the skepticism glint in them. The narrowing of them as your nose scrunches. “Your beauty was surely understated. Don’t you agree Aemond?”
“Indeed. But to be fair I don’t think any painting or letter would ever do you justice.” You don’t say anything, merely bow your head in feigned shyness while the crowned woman behind you speaks up.
“They say she has her mothers complexion.” She giggles loudly, and your spine tightens quickly. “May the child be blessed with the one good thing about her-“
“You’ve had a long journey. I’m sure your hungry and we still some final touches on this alliance. I trust you find my daughter to your liking?” There that tone is again, like he is disgusted to call you his daughter.
“Of course. We accept the marriage proposal, let’s feast and forge out the rest of the details.” Rhaenyra nods, allowing Daemon to help her up the stairs as the king leads them inside.
Aemond is torn between offering his mother his arm or you, desperate to touch you but not wanting to seem like the type to leave his mother.
Lucerys is there, offering his arm and drawing the first actual smile from you, a wave of anger filling Aemond at the sight. “Might I escort you to dinner?”
“You may escort me up the stairs, but unfortunately it would be improper for me to join dinner.” His mother snaps her attention to that, watching you as closely as Aemond already had been while Lucerys leads you up the steps.
They both watch as you look in the opposite direction of where you are walking, keeping your face turned away from one particular spot.
“Is that…. Blood?” His mother gasps, and Aemond can do nothing but stare at the large stain of it, blinking slowly as the sun hits the dial at the top of the staircase.
It was clear that this had been set up as a stage at some point, the message still stained into the earth.
He doesn’t answer his mother, instead he helps her up the steps as he follows the rest of the group.
-
He was angry. It was the only thing he could register, the anger. The rest of it was numb, the blade that took his eye had made sure of it. No love, no happiness, no remorse. He just felt anger.
It burnt through his throat until he had no choice but to scream, tore through his chest like acid as he raged to relieve some of it, his sword swinging at anything he could.
The posts on his bed were the first to have been attacked, the broken canopy it once held brutalized and torn in the corner. The desk was next and he even took a hot poker from the fire to shatter the mirror in one swift move.
Every move was sheer force, every yell was an attempt to ease him, every slam of his fist and kick of his feet an instinct he could not fight.
Where was the justice?
People avoided looking at him now, whispers following him everywhere he went. Females outwardly laughed and gasped at him, acting as if he was a demon that had clawed from the shadows.
“Aemond.” Alicent tries, her hands folded against her dress as she watches her son rage within the walls of his room, feeling useless. He was in pain and there was nothing she could do. “Aemond please.”
“I DONT WANT TO BE HERE! THEY THINK IM A MONSTER!”
“Aemond-“
“KILL ME! KILL ME KILL ME KILL ME!” He rages, picking up the sword once more as she takes a step back, the tears falling from her eyes. She knows he would never, he was forged from steel itself, but the fear consumes her as she calls for Cole. Sobbing.
“Help him.” She pleads, hearing the old dragon roar in the distance as Aemond shatters under the pressure.
“It hurts.” The boy sobs, falling into the glass of his once mirror. “It won’t stop hurting!”
Cole nods, without a word he heaves the boy up, dragging him out and across the glass until they clear the room. His grip is brutal, even Aegon tries to stop them when they pass him in the hall.
“Where are you taking my brother?” He snaps, standing straight, the soberest Aemond has ever seen him.
But Cole doesn’t answer, and when Aemond trips the armor pinches into his skin as he is hefted back up until they make it to the training yard.
“You want to die? Earn it.” Cole snaps, picking up a sword. He doesn’t warn his strike, Aemond barely has a second to dodge as the blade swipes at him, falling to the mud quickly.
The wetness of it seeps into his clothes, staining them as his fingers dig in to crawl to the weapons to defend himself.
He remembers the feel of the earth in that moment, latching on to that anger once more as he stands to fight.
-
You weren’t allowed at the feast, a fact that Aemond finds suspicious as his Uncle moves around the room with his hand on his sword ready for an attack, making eye contact with each servant there. Everyone was on edge, this entire ordeal one that screams trap.
“Might I ask why the bride will not be joining us?” Rhaenyra breaks the silence, fixing herself in the chair given, nodding to the rest of her party to sit as well.
“After the events of her mother…. It’s better if she doesn’t join us.” The king answers, casting a look to Daemon. “She mourns her mother. Taken too soon from an illness.”
The air around them turns pungent, the sign of a lie fallen flat. Lucerys casts him a side look, his thick eyebrows pinched together in confusion as the king raises a glass to toast.
“To the blessed union of our families.” Everyone raises their own glasses before taking a sip, but not Aemond, he sets his glass down and looks around the room some more while the conversation is struggling to be picked back up.
“Those are lovely pearls.” Alicent tries, doing her best to ease some of the tension.
“Oh thank you.” The young queen giggles, leaning forward. “It’s out of fashion out here ever since-“
The king slams his hand upon her own, a bang emanating from the wood. She flinches, but tries to smile through it and Aemond feels a rage fill him as he imagines you having to do the same thing before. Is that why you chose not to eat with them?
“Pearls are…. Out of fashion out here.” Your sister fills in the silence, “the woman at the court tend to avoid them.”
“Speaking of.” Verlain smiles. “I have some things packed and ready to be transported. Gifts from the royal family to yours as a part of the arrangement. To be presented on the wedding day.”
“I just hope there will be room for all of us aboard that ship of yours.” The king smiles, though Aemond sees right through it.
“I can assure you it’s quite big. What a lonely ride it was here, while the others rode dragons. I am looking forward to the company on the way back. I do hope the bride fares well in the sea.”
“I believe my sister to be excited for it.” The pregnant once smiles, the first real smile from this table.
Aemond says nothing, picking up his goblet and draining the liquid in one easy go. Even the wine here tasted shit. Lucerys laughs under his breath when a pig is set on the table and when Aemond turns to glare thinking the jest is to him he finds that the young queen was using her cutlery to check her appearance.
He leans closer, Lucerys following his lead. “I hope that my future bride is not too attached to her family. For if I have to spend a second past the wedding with them I might just-“
Alicent slaps his shoulder quickly, making him sit up as Lucerys snickers. Whether he got to finish his sentence or not the message had been delivered.
-
She spent the last month of her life trapped in a tiny room, with nothing but a bed and a small window barred to keep her in. Her chamber pot was changed once a week and she was allowed one handmaiden.
But she tried not to let it craze her, pouring herself into preparations for the future ahead of her. Everyday followed the same routine.
In the morning she was brought to a chapel within the castle where the minister would pray with her, and every morning he would ask her if she had any sins she’d like to pray forgiveness for. She never did, for she remained adamant that she did nothing wrong. And she could withstand the scalding look the man gave her each time for his opinion did not matter, she knew her truth.
She spent the days seeing, ordering dresses and adjusting them. Day after day. Ordering dress after dress, a small gift her lord husband had allowed her. If she were to die then at least she would die well dressed.
But the dresses weren’t for her, she didn’t pour over every stitch for herself and she didn’t hem each one to perfection for her own vanity, for she knew the second this was over for her that her daughters life would be ruined.
She would prepare as much as she could for her daughter, she was a mother and she would not fail her even in her last moments.
Meanwhile you begged and pleaded for her back, crying into your sisters arms as she held you, rocking you back and forth.
Your father hadn’t come to see you since she was taken, and you weren’t allowed at court, soon enough even your sister was denying visits. Left alone with your handmaiden until the fateful day.
Verlain, one of your fathers men, came to the door and excitement filled you when you saw him. He had always been so kind and often stole sweets for you when no one was looking, but that morning he didn’t smile.
“I thought she might want one more friendly face with her.” He explains to the handmaiden, who has tears in her eyes as she nods. She pulls you away and prepares you, lacing your corset and dressing you in black before taking your hand and leading you through the halls.
“Are we going to see-“
“Shhh. Don’t say a word.” Verlain warns, trying to keep his voice soft. “Not today little lamb.”
You nod, reaching to grab his hand as well as they lead you to the courtyard. You remain in the back, with a good view of the steps, still holding both their hands.
Your mothers group of handmaidens stood to the side of the steps, all looking worried and most with tears falling down while someone hisses at Verlain.
“You brought her kin?!”
“The king demanded she be here.” Verlain answers back, something like grief crossing his face. “To witness.”
And witness you did.
You remember it well, the silent scream that clogged your throat and the way you tried running for her. You had fallen when Verlain pulled you back, your fingers digging into the mud as you tried to crawl to her with all your strength as the blood poured down.
After you had been dragged, kicking and screaming, to your chambers you’d been thrown in by the guards. The first person allowed access to come and see you had been your mothers main handmaiden, one you hadn’t seen at the execution, who you would later learn had reported your mother falsely.
She did not hug you, she did not coddle you. The only thing she asked was “your mothers necklace? Have you any idea where she hid it?”
You told her no, still crying, feeling betrayed.
She left soon after.
A week after that you were forced to kneel before your father as he stripped you of your title and your lineage. “You are her daughter and nothing more. A bastard in the eyes of the faith and the crown.”
You sobbed and begged him not to, crying over and over “papa!”
He screamed at you, slapping you across the cheek so hard you sprawled across the stone.
That night, your last night in the castle, you sat by a singular burning candle as an unknown phantom gently traced the bruise, singing softly to you as you waited for your mother to appear to you.
If there was anyone who would use your gift you were sure it would be her.
But she never came, and you were sent away, and soon the castle was scrubbed of her memory.
-
Your last night there was spent exactly the same as years ago, a fresh bruise adorning your cheek from your fat- his majesty, and you sitting by a candle and waiting for her. Silently pleading for her ghost to appear.
“Come on mother.” You whisper, waiting. “Just one more time before I meet you in the afterlife. Please.”
She does not show, and when the sun begins to rise you are escorted from your rooms down to the docks were your luggage was being loaded.
“Is this all you have?” Lucerys, the name he introduced himself with yesterday, asks and you nod.
“Not much is provided for Basta- for brides to be.” He takes your lie, smiling before you curtsy and allow him to run and catch up with his mother and father.
“I hope you will be okay with entertaining my mother for the journey.” An even voice fills the silence, your heart lunging through your chest as you turn to see the prince. You thought he was gorgeous, desperate to reach a hand out and see what was under the patch.
You refrained of course.
He, however, seemed unable to control himself as he brought a hand up to the bruise on your cheekbone. His fingertips tracing over it ever so lightly.
“How does he have black hair?” You ask, desperate to get the topic away from your cheek before it can even start.
“It’s…. A long story.” He huffs, a small smile playing at his lips. “Might I escort you to your chambers on the boat.”
He holds out a hand for you to take, and for a moment a pitch of fear fills you. Don’t look don’t look don’t look.
But you can’t stop yourself from turning to those steps, and seeing the blood among them for the last time. Once you’re gone that’s all that will be left of her memory, and that tears a hole through your soul.
She shouldn’t have to be alone here, but you were sure that you would find her soon enough, there was no way you would ever survive the Targaryens. It was the only reason your father would ever bother to accept this at all.
So, ignoring the white haired god beside you, you turn fully to the steps and bow properly. “Until we meet again.”
Your tears sink into the dirt, in the exact spot you once crawled, and when a breeze hits your cheek you can do nothing but lift your head to see her. Standing at the top of the steps, bowing back to you.
Tears fall quicker, and your throat stings from it as you turn to grab the princes still outstretched hand, and as the last remnants of the second queen fade the last memory of her is lead away to the docks, clutching the lost necklace tightly in the pocket of a dress she once sewed.
And you know, that just as your mother once did, you would meet your fate with your head held high.
Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken. They cannot break me.
But you hadn’t quite known what Kings Landing had in store for you, no one had expected it really.
(It's been a minute since I wrote something like this and this is the first time in months that writing hadn't felt like a chore. I hope you enjoy it!)
Part 2.... maybe?
#aemond hotd#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen possessive#aemond targaryen angst#aemond targaryen smut#aemond targaryen imagine#aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen is back#house of the dragon smut#house of the dragon angst#house of the dragon fanfiction#house of the dragon fanfic#house of the dragon imagines#house of the dragon
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Track 9: Feature Me - Flo
“He's got me actin' like I'm some kind of animal // The way he looks at me, I don't feel like a girl no more”
Pairing: Kim Mingyu x fem!Reader
Genre: smut
Warnings: Katoptronophilia, exhibitionism, pussy slapping, Mingyu is a huge tease, brat!reader, fantasy of choking, sex toys (vibrator)
Length: ~800
Note: i know i said this came out tomorrow but this is my world and i do what i want! also i wrote this before nana tour revealed shirtless gyu with a chain but now that that's out there im down stupendously (as if I wasn't already)
Like, comment, reblog, enjoy!
Mixtape Series: Me & You Masterlist
main masterlist
This blog is intended for 18+ only! MDNI or you'll be blocked!
“I told you to watch.” Mingyu rasps in your ear, free hand harsh against your chin as he drags your head back up.
The mirror resting against the wall across from your bed frames a scene of complete debauchery. Mingyu’s head just visible over your shoulder, captivated with every jump of your tummy and gasp of breath as he forces the pink vibrator against your clit on the highest setting; encouraging him to force your legs wider to enjoy the show.
Mingyu loved watching you touch yourself, loved having you watch him touch himself, and most of all loved touching you. So why not combine all those things and put on a performance worthy of a never-to-be invited audience?
Not an hour ago you’d been embarrassed. Batting away your boyfriend's hands as Mingyu recounted the video he found on Twitter. Whispering how hot you'd look spread out for him, practically begging for you to let him get you off in front of the mirror he already moved from the hallway to the corner of the bedroom.
And now you sit, completely naked while he remains fully clothed underneath you, the stiff material of his jeans rubbing your bare skin raw each time you squirmed in his arms, your knees hitched on the outsides of his thighs, preventing any sort of shyness at his affection.
“Please, Gyu,” you gasp, drool leaking down your chin as his arms flex with effort to keep you still.
Ignoring your request, Mingyu angles the vibrator just so; leaving your chest caving and muscles ripped tight. “Need it so bad, don’t you pretty girl? Just look at you humping my hand.”
“Say that like—shit!— you aren’t about to cream your pants.” You bite back.
A stinging slap to your pussy nearly sends you to the floor, hips bucking into the contact. The now forgotten vibrator buzzes across the carpet while Mingyu harshly swipes against your clit.
“Aww, baby.” Mingyu tuts. “Be nice.”
Voice cracking, you goad him again. “Or what?”
Another slap answered with a sob and Mingyu smiles over your shoulder, pinching your chin between his fingers and forcing your head to turn towards his. You can feel the residual dampness from earlier smear across your jaw and your boyfriend delights in the mess; eyes igniting with glee that only spells trouble for you.
“Wanna come?”
Whine as he brushes his nose against your own, his mouth just out of reach causing you to warble with protest. Your back shakes with Mingyu's laughter at the pathetic state you’ve melted into, turning your head back to the mirror.
You’re a mess; eyes red and watering and body glistening with sweat. And where Mingyu works you is no better; blossoming pink around the thumb abusing your swollen bundle of nerves, your opening sucking up his fingers eagerly.
“Please!”
You don’t know what you’re begging for. Maybe to finish like this on his fingers; maybe for him to unzip his pants, slip his cock inside, and have you ride him; maybe for the hand gripping your chin to dip to your neck and giving a loving squeeze while he lavishes you in praise.
But Mingyu knows exactly what you need.
The inside of your thighs burn with warning, both of Mingyu's strong hands dropping to get you to the end. Your thighs attempt to shutter close at the shock but the man behind you forces you wide open to drink in everything.
A third finger joins the other two curling against that place inside you and Mingyu's ears ring with the guttural moan they press from your lips. Vision black, your soul flees into the abyss in an effort to preserve your sanity because Mingyu doesn’t stop. Even when you thrash in his lap, his teeth and hands force you in place, making you take what he offers freely.
It isn't until the blood returns to your brain that you find the strength to bat away the hand still wedged between your thighs.
“Shhhhit,” you gasp.
Mingyu’s lips stretch into a smile. Pampering reverent kisses anywhere within reach while you catch your breath. He silently adores the way you melt in his hold, mouth slack and eyes dropping.
“Good?”
With a final peck to his lip you begin your descent. Sinking onto boneless knees, Mingyu follows you with confused eyes, eyebrows furrowed as you unzip his jeans. Arching your back, you know he can see the remnants of your orgasm dripping onto the floor beneath you if he took the time to look up. But he's trained on your doe eyes and the shrinking distance between your mouth and his cock and misses the motion of your free hand cradling the long forgotten vibrator.
Mingyu's so sensitive he nearly knees you in the tit when you press it to the underside of his leaking tip with a sadistic smile.
“Eyes on the mirror, baby.”
-
Taglist: @tomodachiii @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @cvpidyunho
© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.
#svthub#svt x reader#kim mingyu x reader#mingyu smut#kim mingyu#svt smut#seventeen smut#kim mingyu smut#🫡 highvern
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The first day had been chaos, to say the least. He’d expected it for sure. Impulse had warned him specifically.
“Don’t take this as me not wanting you to come, because I totally want you to come, okay? I just want you to be prepared. It’s going to be… a lot.”
Skizz had laughed. He knew a good chunk of the hermits, knew them from death games, even. He was ready for the chaos. He told Impulse as much.
“I know, I know. Really, though. It’s a lot when you first join. They’ll probably put you in a hole. There’ll be a lot of new eyes on you. So, just… prepare for that, buddy.”
Skizz had brushed Impulse off yet again, and they had gone back to their original conversation.
Skizz didn’t really think much about it again, until he arrived on day one, around a pit of lava, and felt the eyes of the other hermits on him. Eager to see what he could do.
And then he had gotten caught up in caving, and shenanigans, and crack alleys, and placing so many signs that he had forgotten what the point of them was, and had started just writing whatever statements popped into his head.
Impulse had been right. It was chaos, it was a lot. But it felt… right. It felt like Skizz belonged.
His buddies were here!
How could he not belong?
Skizz had just finished taking down the “Welcome to Costco. I love you.” sign, leaving a respectable two signs claiming his spot, when he spotted Impulse coming over the horizon.
“Dippledop! How’s it hanging?”
“Hey Skizz! Just came to check in on you. How’d the first day go?”
“Well, it was chaos, I can’t tell ya it wasn’t. But good chaos! It felt right.” Impulse’s eyes crinkled.
“We finally completed the set, huh? Team ZITS, all together on Hermitcraft.” Skizz looked pointedly at Impulse, who just as pointedly didn’t meet his eyes.
“I guess I have you to thank for that?”
“Hey, I wouldn’t have let anyone take my Skizzle from me!” Impulse laughed, then quickly added, “Not that anyone tried! Everyone wants you here.”
Skizz looked over at the horizon, stretching across the sky, next to Magic Mountain. It was still day, but the little tinge of pink and orange was peeking over the side of the world. Soon, it would be sunset. Skizz would be home, watching the sunset with his best friend. Impulse followed Skizz’s gaze.
“You know, we’re not going to get a real sunset. Bdubs takes his sleep very seriously here.” Skizz scoffed.
“It’s not about the actual sunset! It’s about being here with you, Dippledop.” He blew a smacking kiss at Impulse. Impulse dodged it, laughing, and put his hand around Skizz’s shoulders, turning to watch what they could get of the sunset, before it would be morning again.
“Welcome home, Skizz.”
As the traces of pink disappeared, resetting to morning, right on schedule, Skizz clapped his best friend on the back, and relished in finally, finally, being home.
#hermitcraft#hermitcraft season 10#impulsesv#skizzleman#imp and skizz#inspired by the screenshot gem tweeted of skizz and impulse watching the sky together on hc#and my own joy at skizz being home finally
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I absolutely don't mean this in a bad way, but I think a lot about how Pokemon is a power fantasy for kids. And I know this is obvious because it's a game for children, but let me ramble.
Think about it: you can go wherever you want, knowing you're safe because your Pokemon will protect you. In the later games, you can dress however you want and express yourself freely. You can connect with nature and communities of friendly kids and adults around you. You can make a meaningful, positive impact on the world. You can stand toe-to-toe with adults who, in real life, would ignore or even belittle you because you're just a kid. (And, of course, you have superpowered pets that love you.)
I think about how in the original games, Brock and Misty are presented as kids/young teens and become friends with Ash. But, Lt. Surge presents a difficulty spike-- if you chose Bulbasaur, you can easily sweep the first two gyms with it, but now you don't have a supereffective match up unless you plan more. I think it's meaningful, then, that Lt. Surge is portrayed a big, scary adult man and military to boot. In the anime, he's presented as being condescending and intimidating toward Ash. But, you as the player are able to overcome this intimidating man through the power of your Pokemon. The same can be said for people like Team Rocket and Giovanni-- Giovanni's original sprite in Red & Blue makes it look like he's looming over you, sneering at you.
It can easily be forgotten by adult fans, but you're seeing this world through the perspective of a child. Giovanni looming over you represents how it feels to be a child, powerless, and face an adult who's cruel to you. But you defeat him at every match up.
Satoshi Tajiri would go on to say that Pokemon was inspired by his childhood, in which he'd go out and collect bugs. Miyamoto would say that the first Zelda game was inspired by his childhood in which he'd explore the local area and caves and so on.
It makes me sad to think that, as the world becomes more modern, more urbanized, and (as parents tend to see it, at least) more unsafe, this childhood that inspired these classic games become further out of reach for kids. When I was growing up, I lived in a suburb full of concrete. I couldn't walk anywhere, and even if I could, my mother was too anxious to let me just go around unsupervised.
This is why getting the bike is such a big moment in Pokemon-- you can go so much farther as a kid on a bike! But, I also could only ride my bike up and down my boring street before running into a major street full of cars going 50 MPH that would have murdered me instantly.
This isn't a doom post. I still believe that we can repair the damage that capitalism and cars have done to the world. But, I think that in times like this, it's more important than ever for kids to have access to these power fantasies, these escapes from a world that they have no ability to fix, but still suffer from regardless.
Ironically, I think that when I play Pokemon now, I play it to feel smaller rather than to feel bigger, the opposite of how I played it as a kid. Now, it's comforting to escape from work and stress into a world in which your only concerns are walking to the next town, catching a new Pokemon, and maybe fighting a gym leader. The same can be said of any piece of media that someone is nostalgic for, but I think Pokemon feeds into it well because its design is so baked in the experience of being a child.
When I'm playing Pokemon, especially when replaying an old game, I still remember things like only saving in Pokemon centers so that my character could sleep there in a nice building, or imagining them setting up camp if I had to save and quit on a route. If I had time, I would feed my Pokemon some Pokeblocks or etc. at my little 'camp' so they wouldn't be hungry (which is why I felt like the cooking and camping systems from SwSh were so real for me, haha).
I don't think that there's a 'wrong' way to play Pokemon-- I know people enjoy competitive Pokemon, and strict challenge runs, and stuff. And I can enjoy that, too! But, for me, Pokemon is about childhood, you know?
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Okay one of the few times that whole "PhD student in history" thing is going to be relevant to anything I post here but last night's C3 episode has me feeling some sort of wayyyyy.
Specifically the part where they found those incredibly ancient elven ruins within the cave they were exploring. After barely escaping near-death, and Laudna fresh from deliberately channeling the darkness within her, they stumble across these ruins. Deep within a dark cave where they sought refuge from the harsh storms that plague the unforgiving Ruidian surface. Geodes full of sharp and jagged crystal jut out from the walls of cold, ancient rock. A river coming from some unknown source pouring into a rushing waterfall, leading away further into the depths. Matt did a phenomenal job painting the scene.
There, in those ruins - in that tomb, that crypt - they run across a hauntingly serene sight. Bones from the presumable inhabitants are crushed into the walls, unmoving. Frozen. Sharing the same space in a wonderful, striking, tragic, serendipitous juxtaposition is an enchanted garden. There, in the derelict remains of this once-vibrant space, the vestiges of that past life hold strong. A small bastion of life and healing amidst the monument of death and destruction.
It's within this space of dizzying contrast - air thick with the practically tangible weight of past tragedies - that Laudna finds a doll. A simple doll, devoid of features beyond the bare minimum that helps identify it. A toy, a companion? A relic of some child from so long ago. Laudna likes dolls. She decides - after asking permission - to keep it.
Now within her possession is a ghost. Not a literal ghost, mind you, considering those are in fact a very literal thing in the world Laudna lives in, but a ghost all the same. Through that doll, a child from untold centuries before is reaching, grasping at Laudna. This child, whose entire life, history, and experienced are lost to time - trapped in the past - has managed to pierce that temporal barrier and make themselves known to her.
In addition to this framing of a ghost, the doll can represent another type of haunting. That of a reencounter. Through this doll, this mundane object that often is filed away under the folder of insignificance, Laudna is confronted with the complicated web of violence, trauma, and grief that wraps around both her and the space around her. Laudna loves children. She has a childlike innocence that constantly bubbles at the surface. Yet beneath that is 30 years of unfathomable pain and loneliness.
Laudna, much like the ruins, is at times also frozen. Both physically in her unaging visage and mentally in the way she seems to revert in response to intense trauma.
So, within the confines of this long-forgotten space, the woman who just hours before channelled 30 years of darkness, anger, and hurt into a spell that served to strengthen her tormentor, picked up a doll. A doll that in so many ways symbolizes the innocence and joy that Laudna embodies, surrounded by tragedy.
It was such a beautifully haunting scene.
**If folks are interested, I am referencing the wonderful works of Avery Gordon in her book Ghostly Matters (1997) and Crystal Baik in her book Reencounters: On the Korean War and Diasporic Memory Critique (2019)**
#critical role#cr spoilers#Laudna#c3e85#okay I kinda got carried away here#but those ruins just GRABBED me#i'm with imogen i live there now
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