#hate hate hate snakes in general all around
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HEAVEN'S SHEATH. KTH / M!READER
summary. a wealthy lord's pacifist son finds friendship and affection in a poor soldier, unremarkable except for the fact that he is the lone survivor of a massacre. fate has different plans for them.
wc. 10k
tags. smut | top!reader, bottom!tae, virgin!reader with a big dick (lol), reader is described as tall/strong, descriptions of blood/injuries/death, sex while injured (reader), riding, multiple orgasms, 2/3rds is only worldbuilding oops im just like that!!
a cloud of dust billows beneath the heavy black hooves of a friesian stallion, sturdy and strong-chested. the well-travelled dirt path swings over rolling green knolls, past flocks of white sheep herded into valleys and heavy brown cows grazing along the hillside. the untouched countryside is marked by clusters of tall green trees along the road and they shade the large river snaking through the vale.
amongst the verdant growth, throned between the river and the hills, lies a large manor built strong with stone and brick. other buildings lay scattered around its feet, and life is most evident here – servants hurry about, ushering goats into their wooden pens and their young ones out of the way of the black horse's brisk high trot. the little children stare with big eyes up at the regal stallion's wavy mane, watching how it falls softly over its long neck with each step. it is a horse that carries great presence and elegance, and its rider is no different.
at the manor's grand front entrance, an older man stands in wait, both hands resting on a cane tipped at both ends with gold. his hair is almost fully grey. his steely eyes track the horse and the dust and pollen dirtying its fine feathering on the lower legs.
"you've been sorely missed, son," he says in an unreadable tone, light enough for politeness but darkened by his heavy gaze. "does wartime make for a better view?"
the rider dismounts, hushing the horse as it snorts and tosses its head, hooves stamping. it yearns for the freedom of the run. he pets its soft mane. his voice is deep and monotone with disinterest. "certainly. it's quieter."
the man's eyes narrow. "you left all the kitchen girls alone, who i know you've a fondness for. you should be at home to protect them, taehyung, not gallivanting off to paint your pictures."
silently, taehyung passes off the reins to the stablehand, and turns to stare up at his father from the bottom of the steps. he tugs off his kid-leather riding gloves and places them in the pocket of his navy blue coat. "what do i know of war and fighting? you were the general, not i. i'd say you are much better suited to protecting these frail women from suffering under the hands of conquerors."
"you are the son of a general," he replies sharply. "the youth must carry on what their fathers forged."
"hate and subjugation, of course," taehyung sighs, shifting his bag of paints in one arm and his canvas in another. "humanity's pinnacle."
"stay your wit, boy. you'll find no friends with it."
he slips past him through the open doors of the manor, his paints clinking in its leather saddlebag. "yes, my lord."
upstairs in a large, sunlit room, he sets it all down with a soft huff. he glances around at the canvases lining the walls, leaning against cupboards and drawers full of paint thinners and varnishes. portraits of one woman dominate most of them – slender, pale, with dark hair, full lips, and a soft curving nose. in some, she sits primly on a chair amongst vases of flowers and goblets of wine, and in others, on chaises in simple dresses with a needle and thread in her hands, glowing with the early summer light blooming behind her.
these are the ones hung up or placed atop chests of drawers. not one touches the ground – that place, on the edge between floor and wall, is reserved for simpler landscapes and still lifes.
"i remember i told you to take down those portraits. do you find joy in antagonising me?"
taehyung turns. his father stands on the threshold, cane by his side. after he returned from the last war with a limp and new scars, he has not worn any other colour but black.
he turns back to his saddlebags, indifferent as he slowly pulls his paints and brushes one at a time from the bag. "no. i find no joy in speaking to you at all."
his father's expression tightens. "i did not make her ill. it was chance and nature. your hatred of me will not bring her back, no matter how intense. it is time to move on, son. lingering on it breeds only worse things."
"'worse things'?" taehyung snaps, gripping a put of paint so tightly his knuckles turn white. "i am not one of your soldiers, so don't speak to me like one. i don't need your pragmatism, your war-bred heartlessness. all she wanted was you. all she asked for was you, and you never came."
he has had this argument many times over since that winter. it festers hot fury in his chest just thinking of it, and it has not burned dimmer with time.
he turns and approaches his father, eye-to-eye. he is not a boy anymore. he surveys him for a moment. "war may have reforged you, made you richer and cleverer, but it burned away all that she loved. you never once held her again, felt her breath on your cheek." taehyung brushes his knuckles over his jaw. he shakes his head and begins to walk down the hall. "don't touch those portraits."
back for only a few minutes and taehyung already cannot stand the solemn weight of the air within these walls. he pushes open the front doors with more force than necessary and wanders through the large, walled estate, stone brick encompassing the major centres of activity.
mindlessly, he travels past the cowherds and shepherds leading in the meat for supper, and the stablemaster tending to his friesian, and the beekeepers. he passes the wall and almost reaches the wheat farm.
hushed whispers float up from the riverbank. he stops in his tracks.
by the water, the girls and women who work with the granary from the farm are crowded around something on the bank. the linens of their dresses are dark with water up to their knees, where they hold it back.
he notices the expressions on the girls' faces – bright with nervousness and fear, but tinged with… curiosity? they whisper amongst themselves behind their hands.
he approaches, ducking under a branch of the oak they shelter beneath. "what is so interesting?"
they startle, several sets of eyes turning towards him. one of the older girls, about his age, drops into a fumbled curtsy. "oh, young master—! we weren't doing nothin' bad, sir, but we was hiding from the sun when we found something the lord sir might need know. we found 'im caught up on the root branches here."
him?
taehyung steps past her. his eyes widen.
a young soldier, skin tinged grey, lies on his back on the riverbank, the water lapping at his calves. his boots have come off somewhere in the water. he wears an unfamiliar uniform: a mixture of thick fabrics to stave off the cold adorned with a strangely-patterned leather jerkin.
it is a poor man's armour, he realises, made of what he can scrounge up and what fits from the garrison's armoury. despite his lack of wealth, taehyung can tell he is a big man – tall, strong in ways only a life of hard work can create. he is fair of face, too, handsomer than many young nobles taehyung has met. perhaps a blacksmith's apprentice, or a baker's boy?
"which… which army is he from, master taehyung? can you tell?"
the question awakens him from his daze. he blinks. "ah – bring him higher on the bank, get his legs out of the water. let me closer."
he crouches by the body, pulling at the heavy cloth draped over the torso. at the neck, where the cloth is bunched and rolled to pack in heat, he finds a small red patch.
taehyung sighs and presses the soaked cloth back into place. "this man is very, very far from home."
the girls glance at each other uncertainly. "what does that mean, master?"
"many years ago, his homeland was seized, and now his people are under southern rule. he was an infantryman. simple cannon fodder." with a soft exhale, he leans over the torso and pulls him onto his side to reach the lashes holding together his water-heavy coat. "perhaps i can bury him someplace high, so that his soul may be reminded of home."
the body jerks and chokes out a lungful of water with a ragged groan.
the girls yelp, stumbling back. taehyung would have had he not already been on his knees. his eyes widen as the soldier's face pinches in pain, eyes still shut. taehyung reaches for the oldest girl, gesturing frantically towards the manor on the horizon. "find my father and tell him what you've found! you've my permission to leave the farm and all of that – he's alive!"
—
it is dark. everything hurts. this is hell – this is punishment, eternal and unforgiving. this is deserved for desertion.
then – light. light rings against bone and flesh.
velvet. mahogany. silk and down.
there is a girl beside you, leaning over you. her linen dress is plain but clean with a white apron over it.
your side explodes with pain. you launch upright with a violent shout, gasping and clutching the hot ache under your ribs. cries of shock throb in your skull.
you blink, hard, eyes adjusting dizzily to the brightness of the room. your torso is wrapped in cloth, which you can feel flat and taut against your skin. your hand comes away clean, and for several unthinking moments, you wonder why. your thoughts are slow and heavy.
"you ought to relax, master," echoes a soft voice beside you. her vowels are round and elongated, the accent so different from your own that you barely recognise it, much less understand it. you stare up unseeingly at her youthful face, framed by dark curls held back by a bonnet. she steps forward, a damp sponge in her hand. that is why your limbs feel cold. "your injuries are quite severe."
"where am i?" you mumble, your tongue thick in your mouth. words are unfamiliar. "who're you?"
she glances up at the other maids, huddling by the door. she sets down the sponge and extends a hand, though you flinch from it. she does not try again. "you are in the northern highlands. hadria. my name is aemma."
"aemma," you murmur. the sounds are soft and round, like a river pebble. like a river, you realise, you are damp and naked, save for a single sheet of folded cloth across your lap. you feel your face grow hot and you clutch it close, folding your legs towards your body for security. "m-may i – where are my clothes?"
aemma gestures for one of the other girls, who quickly scoops up a folded pile of clothes from atop the chest at the base of the lavish bed. the rest of the bedroom is similarly luxurious, with a dark palette that soaks up sunlight to warm its wood. the walls are pale, though framed by polished wooden frames embracing the room.
"here," she replies. "the lord father has gifted you some riding clothes to wear in their stead. they were to be given to the young master when he turned of age, but…" she pauses. she shakes her head and curtsies. "you're to meet the lord father and his son shortly. we were to inform them when you were to wake eventually."
"eventually…" you trail off. "how long have i been here?"
"two days, master."
your head begins to pound. you cradle it, wincing, and reach for the offered clothes. they are clean and soft under your callused fingertips. "ah… i'm no lord, miss."
aemma smiles briefly, folding her hands over her stomach. "the lord father requires it, master."
you have no heart to push. in fact, you would much rather lay down for another two days, though knowing you are under the roof of a lord churns up too much fear to do so. if northern men were anything like southern ones, you would do anything to keep your name clean.
"i'd like to dress," you say softly, glancing briefly at the maids watching you from the corner of the room. "alone, if the lasses would allow it."
with another curtsy, aemma ushers the other girls out of the room and closes the door after them. you do not miss how they sent you curious glances as they left. she now stands where they once were, watching you with badly-disguised intrigue.
you clear your throat and feel your cheeks and neck blaze, folding the cloth around your hips tighter. "i'm sorry. i meant entirely."
perhaps it is your imagination, but you think you spot a tinge of pink wash over her features. she finds sudden interest in the knots and grain of the floor. "the lord father instructed that you were not to be left alone in case you required immediate medical attention. you are evidently still in pain, so i must protest."
"ah." you swallow, and your mouth is dry. "p-perhaps… you could turn around, then?"
she glances up, as if to say something, but eventually nods, bobbing in a small curtsy before turning to face the wall.
as quickly as your aching body will allow, you shuffle off of the bed and dress yourself in finer clothes than you have ever worn before. the cloth is soft and sits finely against your skin like a baby's breath. you are so used to abrasive linens that you almost feel more naked than before.
"you found my boots."
aemma turns around – she almost regrets it, spying the last sliver of skin before white cloth falls over it like the pull of curtains. it is more titillating than seeing the entirety of you bare. "o-oh – yes, one of the servant boys found them downstream."
"ah, thank you. and my uniform, miss," you glance up at her, leaning heavily against the bed poster to slip on your boots, "do you know what happened to it?"
"they're with the hold's tailor. i heard it took quite the beating."
"that could be said," you mumble, straightening up at last. your side twinges with pain, but you attempt a smile. "well, s'pose it's time to meet your lord. i've got to thank my saviours."
it is just turning to twilight, and the hazy golden sun on the horizon feels like little more than a memory. candles light the path past gold-spun tapestries and gleaming windows. aemma leads you to a grand dining room, reminiscent of castles and times long gone. she halts by the entrance, curtsies to you, and hurries away without another word, which you find strange as she had been a pleasant conversationalist when helping you through the halls and down the stairs.
"the soldier awakens at last. how do you feel?"
you glance away from aemma's retreating figure. at the head of the long dining table is an older man with sharp eyes and a natural severity about him. seated beside him is a younger man, around your age, staring into his plate with his hands folded in his lap. you step forward cautiously, and a male servant pulls out a chair on the older man's other side. the lord gestures at it, watching you carefully.
"well, milord; thank you," you answer, taking a seat and quietly thanking the servant who readied it in the first place. he bows but does not otherwise acknowledge you, his gaze on the ground as he slinks back into the shadows of the dining room.
"you were asleep for quite some time. my son doubted you would live." he gestures to the young man across from you, whose romantic dark curls are loose over his forehead. "i am glad you are feeling strong enough to join us for supper. i trust that the girls took care of you?"
"yes, milord," you reply, glancing over the table almost longingly. you swallow the saliva building in your mouth. silver platters are laden heavy with dark ox roasts, honeyed lamb shanks, roasted salmon fillets, sausages and baked potatoes, and braised vegetable stews steaming hot. ruby wine is poured into silver goblets. you have never seen so much food at once in your life.
"the war has yet to touch us. we have plenty to share," the lord informs, his voice almost kind. "how long has it been since you have last eaten, soldier?"
your throat bobs before speaking. "ah… four days, maybe, including my time spent here."
the man's brow arches. "your general did not feed you before battle?"
"no, milord. they ambushed us before our rations were due." you glance at the young man. he has yet to look up, or indeed even move. "we… had issues with our supplies. weevils in the grain, rats in the captains' meat. we turned from two meals a day, to one a day, then one every two." you pause. "i don't think one more meal would have saved us."
the room falls silent, with only the crackling of the fireplace breaking the stillness. green wood pops in the flames.
"well, don't wait for me to begin," says the lord suddenly, shifting comfortably in his seat and reaching for a leg of ox, stabbing it with a knife and lifting it onto his plate. he piles his plate high with potatoes and mash. the action seems to spur on his son, who jolts into motion like a creaking old waterwheel, movements slow and measured. "tell us your name, soldier. i'd like to know the name and story of our guest. now, news comes to us slowly in this isolated place. how fares the war effort?"
glancing down, you realise exactly how many pieces of cutlery there are. knives and forks, spoons and little spoons, all slightly different in shape or size. you pause, hand hovering over the knives, nerves tightening in your chest.
a soft cough. you glance up.
across from you, the son rests his delicate fingers on the outermost knife and fork, using them to carry a richly-glazed steak onto his plate. he chooses a large spoon, fingers lingering on it where it sits on the table, and places it into his bowl of stew.
his gaze lifts to meet yours and just as quickly, a butterfly's flap of wings, he glances away. his cheeks are dusted pink, the rosy colour like gold on his sun-warmed skin.
you copy him. you take a slab of steak from the dish right in front of you. you are starving, but everything about this manor makes you feel small, and you fear taking more than you are offered. you give them your name, for it is the only thing you truly own in these foreign lands.
"the war?" you continue, trying to shake the tremor from your voice. "i wouldn't know, milord. the captains don't tell us much. it's all the same – i've fought in three different battles. this was the third. they give their speeches about king and country, and then we fight. it is noble," you say hastily, "but i am not a warrior. not many of us were. the enemy outnumbered us, outskilled us, and when the poppy fields lay silent, they piled the bodies of all our fallen and made pyres out of us."
"such would explain the scorch marks on your clothes." the lord nods. he leans in, and you fight the urge to lean away. "i shall ask the question we all ask ourselves, if you would not mind. how did you survive such a massacre?"
you glance at the son. he eats quietly, forking small chunks of meat into his mouth. you glance away. "i remember a spear. it was tipped… with a blue and white flag. it waved in the black sky as i looked up at it." you frown. "i'd never seen one like it before."
"the temerian lilies," he replies, almost approvingly. "you must have been some opponent – if the flagbearer loses his flag, it is a great shame to the army. it must be held aloft at all times. he would rather die than lose it to the enemy."
you lift a shoulder. the other aches too much to try. "they pulled it out of me after, then dragged me to a pile of corpses. i… don't remember much, but i remember them squabbling over another soldier's brooch for a while. i only wanted to escape the stench of death." you survey the feast laid out before you. "i s'pose i have."
"then we shall celebrate that," hums the lord, lifting his goblet of wine. "my son was the one who found you floating down the river. he said you were cold as ice and only recognised you from the flag you had sewn into your coat. it is brave to carry your homeland's colours when fighting for their conquerors."
"it was a small creature comfort," you respond as nonchalantly as you can. "they could punish me all they liked, but could never kill me. they needed every man in their ranks."
the lord raises his brows, and something like admiration crosses his features. he glances at his son and that admiration turns into a tiny downturn of the lips. he turns back to you. "not a warrior, you say, yet you stand with the united courage of a battalion. who was your father?"
you notice how his son stills, holding the steak on his tongue behind his lips for a long moment. he closes his eyes and with a deep inhale, resumes eating, as if unaffected.
"just a farmer," you say, diverting your gaze. "dead, long past. my ma raised the rest of us – six boys. i was their second. when the army came knocking, askin' for sons, i went, gave them my name. my older brother knew how to count, how to run the mill. i couldn't let them take him, especially not from the little ones – after da died and ma got sick, he was all they had." you tap the edge of the silver plate with your finger thoughtfully. "i imagined i'd either die or be done after one battle, so i'd be brought home quick regardless. now… it's been four years."
then, the servants bring out a round white cake, slices set down around the table – what a perfect intermission. you have made it rather impossible to return to frivolity with your story, and you gaze down at the cake in front of you. you assume this is their dessert, so quaint and pretty on its little silver plate, but you have little idea of how to go about eating one. something so small must require a similarly-sized utensil. is it the tiny spoon? the tiny knife?
you lift your eyes to the young man across from you. he is already watching, eyes large and dark. he picks up a small three-tined fork from the inner edge, tilting it towards you to show you its appearance, the little notch on the left prong. this time, he doesn't look away, and you have enough time to offer a grateful smile, however brief. he blinks owlishly, almost in surprise, before lowering his gaze again.
it is unfortunate. you would not mind looking at him more. he is undoubtedly beautiful, almost pretty, the sort of face people would immortalise in myths and paintings on temple walls – a kind of elven face, like those that turn goddesses to jealousy and gods to obsession.
you spend the rest of the meal stealing glances at each other when you think the other is not watching. he is far more successful than you.
—
from behind a balcony's closed doors, taehyung gazes up at the crescent moon hanging high in the sky, surrounded by pale stars glittering in the blanket of darkness. he cannot stop thinking about the shy farmer's boy, his accent unfamiliarly pleasant – the vowels are soft and blurred, with each consonant crisp and clear. it makes for a bouncing sort of melody to his voice, one that draws taehyung deeper into his song.
he sighs softly and turns away from the night's landscape, uncrossing his arms and meandering through the empty halls. most of the servants are already tucked away, and his father drowns himself alone in old letters and wine.
in loose trousers and a looser white shirt, the vee of the collared neck laced with string, he finds himself in his library, rich and warm from a hearth already lit. curious. he shuts the open double doors behind him quietly to keep the heat from dissipating into the night.
his silent feet carry him through the aisles, where the shelves brush the ceiling with books and ladders. a walkway surrounds the room, essentially giving it a second level.
silhouetted black against the white glow of the moon beyond the arched window, a familiarly unfamiliar figure stands in silence, gaze turned up towards the heavens beyond the lines of books and old tomes.
standing in this still and quiet room, statue-esque in the way of classics, taehyung cannot help the journey of his gaze wandering up and down the planes of your body, painting to himself the sturdiness of your shoulders, the perfect balance between your booted feet. there is a severity about you he recognises in his own father – he sees it in your arms, tucked behind your back, and the practised way of standing that arches the spine just so to emphasise the broadness of the chest. yet, he knows gentleness when he sees it, and he finds it in the almost childlike awe in your expression, aimed up at his personal collection.
he steps out, the shadows melting from him like the shedding feathers of a raven. "what are you doing in my library?"
you startle, and taehyung almost regrets interrupting you. coward that he is, he would rather watch from afar than bring you out of that handsome serenity.
"f-forgive me, sir," you stammer, twisting your hands together as you incline in an awkward half-bow, half-stumble, evidently having forgotten the extent of your injuries as your expression tightens and your hand brushes over your side. "i didn't know it was yours. the – the doors were open, and i—"
"invited yourself in," he finishes.
"i – yes, sir…"
before you, he stands perfectly still. you could fool yourself into thinking his heart does not beat, for he is pale in the moonlight and beautifully dark-haired, with eyes like midnight lakes and lips like a rose.
you tear your gaze from his, breaking your trance. you begin to move past him. "forgive me, milord. i shan't interrupt you."
his hand darts out, wrapping itself around your wrist. serpentine, it slides up your arm and grips your bicep, forming creases in the cloth.
"you shouldn't move so quickly. you're injured." he turns his gaze on you. "you'd leave so soon?"
"ah…" you flounder, helpless. "if the lord wish it so."
his searching gaze strips your body bare. you feel it prod your soul when his eyes meet yours. his eyes scan your face, and he reaches up with his other hand, brushing it lightly against the slope of your jaw. his skin is warm and tender-soft. your breath hitches.
"the maids missed a spot when shaving," he mutters, pressing his fingers against the patch of half-shorn stubble left on the soft underside of your chin. "a man would do it better."
all at once, he drops his hand and looks away. "i am no lord," he replies, his low, rich voice like waves lapping at the sides of a ship, almost careless. "just his son."
you hesitate, your heartbeat still in your ears. "th-then what should i call you, sir?"
he glances down where bandages hide the hole in your body. "just 'taehyung' will do," he says softly, eyes lifting again. he unravels his arm from yours, turning fully towards you. "you may stay – as long as you are quiet."
he moves away, so graceful he may as well have floated. his fingers glide over the covers like bumps of the spine, and they pluck a small yellow book from the shelf. he opens it, already turning to the first page even before he finds a chair to sit in. he curls up in front of the grand fireplace, the furry hide of a brown bear thrown across the floor in front of it.
for a while, you simply watch him and listen to the crackling of the fire. his slim fingers glide across the pages to turn them, the edge of the page caught gently on the pad of his thumb.
bathed in the yellow and orange hues of the fire, the lord's son is every bit as regal as northerners are said to be – hair like calligraphy ink, cheekbones fine, slim bodies tall and lithe. you could lose yourself in his cold, gentle darkness.
that burbling feeling of being out of place rises to the surface, worse than when you sat before the lord at his table. you and your callused palms, your worn and labour-worked body. you should not be here.
"you know you can choose a book, yes? i don't mind." he glances up. "forgive the mess. i can help. what do you like to read?"
"i'm sorry, sir," you murmur, averting your gaze. "i can't read."
it seems he'd forgotten your roots. he blinks. "oh. my apologies. but if not to read, what interested you about my library?"
"ah," you chuckle, scratching your head. "i've just never seen so many books in one place. travelling merchants would display some, but never like this."
"i see." he surveys you intensely, then glances away and clears his throat. he shifts in his seat, crossing and uncrossing his legs. at last, he says stiffly, "if you'd like… i can… read to you."
the silence is thick with more than just the fire's heat. it is hard to know taehyung's hot face is not because of the fire, and he is grateful.
"if milord wishes to," you reply quietly, watching him for any twitch of his expression that may give him away.
"of course. i wouldn't offer it if i didn't." he gestures to the chaise beside him. "sit."
you step into the semicircle of light afforded by the fireplace, licked by tendrils of warmth, and ease yourself into the chair with a soft grunt, holding your side. "milord is as kind as he is beautiful."
his eyes flicker down to your lap. "i wish you wouldn't call me that," he says suddenly, a little sharper. "can i not be called my own name in my home?"
your mouth opens and closes. after a moment, you reply softly, "i meant no offence. it just feels… wrong."
slowly, he exhales, closing his eyes and his book. he places a hand over its cover. "all of my life has felt wrong. everything is wrong no matter what i do – who i wish to be, the company i keep, the fears i carry… the love i desire." he pauses, opening his eyes to your earnest expression. he diverts his gaze to the yellow-gold cover of the book. "what more can one last wrong hurt?"
"i'm sorry," you whisper. "perhaps i can start over." you straighten slightly, offering a crooked half-smile. "what do you want to read to me, taehyung?"
he does not disagree that his name sounds strange coming from another's mouth, but he cannot remember the last time it was used by anyone else. he hums and rises to his feet, coming to stand over you in front of the fire; his shadow cast over your body deepens the maturity of your features.
"when you said i was beautiful," he asks, "did you mean it?"
staring up at him, you can do nothing but tilt your head in bewilderment. "yes. you are fair and handsome."
taehyung chooses his next words carefully. "if… i were a girl," he decides, clasping his book over his stomach with straight arms, "would it be a different sort of beauty?"
you frown, shaping an approximation of a girl with taehyung's features in your mind. "maybe. but she would still be beautiful if she was you." you shake your head, dispelling morphing images of regal dark-haired daughters. you hide your warm cheeks behind an apologetic smile. "i'm sorry. i don't know much. i don't usually deal with such thoughts."
but it was enough for taehyung. slowly, as if not to frighten you, he lowers himself, grasping the chaise's rests and draping himself gently over your lap. he watches your face all the while, his heart beating faster at the shock and nervousness that cross your face in a single second.
"is this… is this alright?" he whispers, placing his hand against your chest.
your adam's apple bobs, your hands hovering an inch off of his body as if he is made of glass. gently, you place one on taehyung's knee and the other behind his back, and glance up at him.
"perhaps you can sit closer," you murmur, eyes wide and searching, "so you may not fall."
taehyung smiles, then – the first smile of his you have ever seen. it is sweet, and crinkles the corners of his eyes. it makes your heart swell.
he hides his smile in his chest, his knuckles brushing the corner of his lips. he lifts his eyes, and a sliver of hope twinkles in them. "shall i read to you, then? i will give you a synopsis of each story so you may choose your favourite."
"please," you murmur, settling back in the chair and sliding your hand higher up taehyung's thigh so he may be more comfortable. "do whatever you wish."
"'whatever'?" he hums, and with a flippant little kick, throws off his boots to the ground, where they thump carelessly. he meets your eyes and falls into a nervous smile, tucking his bare feet against your leg and resting his temple against your shoulder. his hair is still slightly damp at the ends from his earlier evening bath. "then you wouldn't mind this, would you?"
"of course not," you whisper, biting back a shy, embarrassed smile. you are too old to be acting like this, especially with the only son of a wealthy lord, but the rush of excitement from seeing such a reticent man blossom and show his petals to you is too much to keep you away. "i am only a farmer's boy, taehyung. anything with someone like you is… a dream."
at the mention of his name, his smile widens slightly and a pinkness warms the apples of his cheeks. he busies himself with opening the book and flipping through its contents to find the correct page. he presses his thumb against the spine between the pages.
"here." he taps the words on the page. "this story is one my mother used to read to me. a princess is trapped in a tower, guarded by a dragon in an ever-changing thorn maze, and a brave, handsome knight rescues her. they are married and live happily ever after."
he looks up at you, searching for a reaction, and you can only give a breathy laugh in return, still dizzy with the idea that someone like taehyung could ever be interested in someone like you. "are you sure you should be telling me these stories? i'm not a princess or a brave knight. i'm plain."
"perhaps. but do you know who else was seen as plain?" he taps your chest. "the dragon, disguised as a statue. and you, strong dragon, will protect the princess," he taps his own chest, "from all the boredom and politics of castle life."
"don't you have other, richer boys chasing you?" you ask, because you know your place. "your own knight? i don't see what i offer that they can't."
he licks his lips, setting aside the small book on a round side table and swinging his legs over your lap to straddle you. reading it is the last thing on his mind. "i do, of course. but it is like you said – they are boys. when their wooden sword chips, they get a new one." he trails his fingers lightly down the centre of your chest, wide and strong, and tentatively cups what is between your legs. he leans in, long-lashed brown eyes flickering down to your lips. "i want more than that."
"i—" your breath hitches as he squeezes gently, learning its shape and heft with deft fingers. "a-are we allowed to…? i am a stranger in strange lands with nothing to my name."
he chuckles, pressing his forehead against yours. his soft hair curtains your eyes. "allowed? no. but when a handsome soldier from far away falls into my lap, what else is a man to do?" he draws his thumb over your jawline, stroking your cheek. he lowers his lips to yours, hot breath sweet with honeyed treats. with the faintest thread of a breath, he whispers, "may i?"
with your heartbeat thudding in your ears, your head inclines, and taehyung wraps his arms around your shoulders and pushes his lips to yours.
his moan is sweet and starved as you kiss back to the best of your ability, your hands falling naturally about his waist. his lips are plump and warm, pillowy, and slicken with saliva as he deepens it, cupping the back of your head and pressing himself higher onto your body. he is desperate and dominating, sitting in your lap and rolling his hips into yours. you can feel his excitement through the cotton of his trousers.
when you part regretfully, gulping down air, he cups your face, his eyes dark yet gentle. he licks his shining lips, parted to pant. "you seem apprehensive. have you ever done this with a man?"
you wipe your lips with your thumb, tongue swiping over them in an almost bewildered motion. your eyes are wide. "a-ah… no. not with… anyone…"
"not even a girl?" he cannot help the surprise that coats his tone.
you shake your head, face aflame. "i never… my older brother had my father's charm. he was the one they all wanted, strong but lean. i was too much of a bull. they had fantasies of princes, and he was closer to it than i."
deeply and tenderly, he kisses you again. "it only means i won't have to fight anyone to call you mine." he brushes his thumb over your lips. "that suits me just fine. i was never the fighting sort."
he sits up on your lap, thighs bracketing yours. his bare feet tuck beneath him under his knees. when his palm grazes the front of your trousers, your breath hitches in your chest, and taehyung gives you a soft, if coy, grin. "i'll be gentle," he promises. he tugs slightly on the laces of the waist. "may i?"
mutely, you nod, your words sinking into the whirling depths of his eyes. his deft fingers undo the laces with ease and he pulls the thick cloth down your waist, tracing the vee of your hips with a pleased breath. he reaches in, lifting his gaze to gauge your expression. your chest rises and falls rapidly, and your knuckles are tensed on the chaise's armrest. the other arm is tucked tightly by your side.
"don't be nervous," he whispers, stroking you gently in your trousers. it twitches in his palm. "place your hands on my waist, darling. good. very good."
hesitantly, your hands graze his hips, sliding up to grip his slender waist. you splay a hand beside his waist, measuring it against him with fascination. he is slim and lovely… like the city nobles' soft-palmed daughters. you had noticed his hands during supper but hadn't the room to mull over them then, though now you do. they are square, masculine, but slender and fine-veined. his nails are clean and cut short, with a thin crescent of white at the ends.
he could not have been more perfect if he tried.
he slides his fist up to the tip of your cock, rubbing his thumb against the slit and the smooth skin. you are mostly soft, but still impressive – the number of taehyung's clandestine trysts have lent him a certain experience when it comes to men.
you have reinforced your place as his favourite.
"i see why they call you a bull," he says slyly, squeezing your shaft as his fist sinks down on it. "they just don't know how to tame you."
your face floods with heat as you stutter meaninglessly. your grip tightens on taehyung's hips and a single slant of a thought marvels at how delicate he feels in your palms.
"be still, my darling," he murmurs, "and be at ease. you are no longer at war. you can close your eyes and hold me without fear. nothing will happen unless we want it to."
his voice, like syrup, melts the frantic whirlwind of thoughts in your head. you cannot help but want to believe him. "you make it sound so simple. i want to believe you."
"why can't it be?" he tilts his head, glancing down and stroking you contentedly. he swipes his thumb over the slit, where a bead of precome bubbles. oil – from a small bottle you only now spot in taehyung's palm – smooths each stroke of your shaft. "the world is so complicated. affection can afford to be simple."
he lets go for a moment to step back, sliding his trousers down his hips and calves and tossing them aside on the chaise. he flicks his dark hair and tucks a lock over his ear as he reassumes his place on your lap, pressing his chest against yours and tugging your cock to throb against the curve of his ass. the silk of his white shirt is cool and light against your hot skin.
his lips ghost over the shell of your ear as his hips roll languidly. he whispers, "do you want this?"
do you want more? the question is unasked, but you hear it anyway.
"i do, yes. please," you reply immediately, your voice rough with desire. your hands trail over his hips and tuck beneath the long hem of his shirt to caress his warm, creamy thighs, a feeling that traps your breath in your throat. you force out a sigh, shaky, and rest your forehead against taehyung's shoulder. he hushes you and cups the back of your head, reaching with his other hand behind himself to ease you inside his warmth.
taehyung's head tips back with a slow exhale, shuddering as you pulse with heat inside of him. he watches you closely, committing to memory the way your brows pinch and your mouth falls open as your grasp tightens, trembling, around his waist.
"do you like that?" he whispers, breathy. he bounces shallowly, grinding his hips into yours. "how do you feel?"
"good," you choke out through a groan. your hand slides down to the dip in his back, trying not to seem too eager as it cups his ass. "oh, fuck…"
"don't hold back for me," he murmurs, hips quickening. he moans in surprise as you buck up into him, thighs meeting his ass. the slap of your balls against his ass is obscene, and he scrambles to cling onto your shoulders for balance.
"wait – wait, wait," he gasps, lashes fluttering as your cock kisses that spot inside of him that burns pleasure through his guts.
you stop immediately, sliding your hand up his side. "i'm sorry! are you alright?"
he huffs a laugh, panting softly, and nods. "you're injured, darling. don't waste the good work we put into putting you back together. sit back – i will take care of you, understand?"
"a-ah…" your face burns with heat. "all right. whatever milord desires."
"very good." he presses down on your hips gently, his hands between his thighs. he lifts himself off of your cock until only the tip rests against his hole, then sinks down on it in one smooth motion. a strangled noise escapes your throat as you scramble to hold onto him. his heat grips your shaft like a vice, gummy walls clamping down around you with each drop of his hips.
he moans when your fingers dig into the sensitive skin of his hips, sweat gathering in the small of his back. the fireplace crackles softly, the air warm and sweet with the smell of sex.
he gathers his shirt in his hands about his ribs, revealing his dusky cock, swollen with need. he takes your hand and curls your fingers around his shaft, his eyes fluttering and lips parting as you tighten it. your callused palms drag deliciously against his veins and he grips your wrist with a soft groan, bouncing on your lap in such a way that he thrusts into the warm tunnel of your fist.
carefully, you stroke his cock, cautious about rubbing raw or tearing his skin. wealthy boys are a different breed – so much softer, easier to hurt. the smell of him, sweet and musky, hangs in the air around him, enveloping you when he draws close – crushed petals, herbs, leaves. it seems foreign, or at least the mixture does, for you cannot quite place your finger on it – then again, what do you know of luxuries like this?
"you are doing well," taehyung praises, gasping as you flick the head of his cock with your thumb. "oh, yes… f-fast learner, hm? oh!"
a jerk of your hips has him jolting forward, his cock spurting a sudden white rope onto your stomach. he purrs, bracing against your chest and slamming his hips down on your cock to slicken him with your pleasure. it works, and he seems unduly proud of himself when your cock throbs and leaks, forming a white ring around the hilt that thickens with each bounce of his ass.
"milord – milord," you gasp, a tiny pathetic noise that does not match your appearance, "please – i'm—"
"let go," he demands, a breathy moan escaping his lips. he closes his eyes and lets out a punched groan as your cock carves into his insides, deeper than any other man had ever touched. his reddened cock throbs, slit pouring precome over his belly and thighs. the pleasure curls around his thoughts, his head spinning from it, and he feels your stomach tense under his palms.
you spill into him with a deep, satisfied growl, head tipping back as he arches against you. your hips roll up against his and the coil tightening in his belly snaps at the sight of you so wrecked from so little. he cries out, ropes of white streaking across your shirt, and his hips stutter and roll, milking your pleasure for his own like a succubus. he presses his ass into your lap, white teeth sinking into his plump lower lip, and his eyes roll as the thick warmth fills him up to the brim.
at last, he slumps against your chest, thighs trembling and tensing as he hums softly into your neck. he buries his nose in the soft, warm skin, and cups your cheek to place a soft kiss on the corner of your jaw.
"mm… good," he purrs, smiling with tender satisfaction. "i – i shall bring you to your… mm… room. it is just down the hall from my own... should you wish to see me, you only need to knock." his breath hitches as he raises his hips slowly, hole twitching around your shaft, and when it pops out, a steady stream of come leaks from him, staining his tanned skin. he sighs, closing his eyes to the slowing of your heartbeat. "but i think i will stay here for a time, if you don't mind. just until i – until i regain feeling and control of my legs."
"is that… is that normal?" you ask, a tiny panting tremor in your voice. "to lose feeling like that?"
taehyung laughs into your neck, eyes crinkling. "sometimes, when i feel overwhelmed. it is no fault of yours – you are just… big. don't worry. i liked it."
he shifts in your lap to get comfortable but pauses as something pokes his thigh. a sly smile spreads across his fine features, his fingers lifting to trace your jaw and tip your gaze to his own. he purrs, "is that for me, love? excited again?"
you gulp, unable to tear your stare from his despite the embarrassment clawing at your throat. "i – i…"
"handsome and energetic. i'm a lucky man." he laughs softly, reaching behind himself and groping your hard cock with a low moan. "i myself have been told i'm rather voracious. perhaps you will be the first to keep up with me."
he lowers himself on your cock, head tipping back as he teases himself with the thick head. his dick twitches.
"what say you to a change of scenery?" he asks coyly, perfectly content with your ragged-breath silence. every word you might have said disintegrates on your tongue when he turns around, arching his back and pinning your cock to your stomach. shining precome smears along the cleft of his ass.
his body, carved out of shadows by the fire, rocks and rolls like a ship in the harbour when all its crew are asleep. with an encouraging smile, he takes your hands and places them on his hips, pressing on them to guide you to control his body. he hums softly as you squeeze his hips and spread his asscheeks, your breath shaky as he angles his messy hole against your leaking tip.
he watches your face with gentle eyes as he sinks down on your cock, his warm, wet hole swallowing up your shaft like he was made for it. you jump slightly when his ass firmly meets your lap, taking you hungrily until the hilt, and if he were a lesser man, your expression alone would have been enough to tip him over the edge. he sears every line of your face, every edge and plane, into the backs of his eyelids. it will make for fine company on lonely nights.
you speak for the first time in a while. "p-please…" you whisper hoarsely, blunt nails digging into his smooth, unmarred skin, leaving crescent moons in your wake. "please, move."
"ah, but you are badly hurt… i must take my time with you. mustn't alert the servants, either, for they'd certainly report to my father what they've seen." taehyung giggles to himself, gnawing on his lower lip in an effort to subdue his grin. he grinds down into your lap in circles, relishing in the pleasured, impatient groans that escape your throat. "he'd toss you out in an instant, and we cannot have that! i haven't yet had my fill of you."
"a-are you always so… playful with your men, taehyung?" you ask, voice slightly strained. you watch your cock vanish into him, over and over again. the sound that is made when he bounces on your lap is obscene and filthy. your heart stirs with desire.
"mmh – no. my past conquests have not been as – as alluring as you," he gasps, wrapping his hand around his throbbing cock, thumb rubbing circles over the ridge of his tip. "mostly, they bore me. you, however – you're more than a cock i can use to please myself, if i may speak so crudely."
"i – ah – th-think i should be grateful, then…?" you reply uncertainly.
"yes. unless, of course, you enjoy that sort of game… but tonight is about simplicity," he breathes, his skin tingling where your rough palms glide over his thighs, soft as cream. "we have only so long until the sun rises and the servants wake. i want to spend that time with you – learning your homeland's ballads and epics, your favourite flower, where i can touch to make you melt…"
he looses an airy laugh as your grip tightens on his waist, his shirt folded up between your fingers to reveal the curve of his spine and ass. you drag him down onto your cock roughly and he keens, eyes rolling back briefly. "ooh, y-you like that, don't you? ah—!"
already he is so sensitive. nowhere else has he felt pleasure like this – where his body is treated as more than a means to an end. he had been completely content with that when he entered this library, agreeable to the idea that you might like him only for what he can give you. but he swears – he swears on the old gods and the new – that the way you press your nose into the curve of his neck, the way you stroke him thin and thick tight and loose – caring, properly, for his own high – means your attraction is more than fleeting.
years of ending up alone in empty beds have made him soft. lonely. desperate. perhaps he is reading into things too deeply, as he always does – poor boy, always a poet. the backs of his eyes sting with hot tears as his tightly-controlled leash snaps, making him cry out, writhe, and shudder, knees and elbows buckling under the weight of his orgasm.
you catch him in your arms before he can slip, pulling him backwards towards your chest. it is warm, your throat shining with sweat, and he can feel the burning fever of your body through your clothes. still, you do not let go, push him away – you cradle him close, your heart thudding through your ribcage and into his own.
one of your hands tugs languidly at his cock, milking his pleasure from him. you watch quietly as it spills over your knuckles, your lips pressed against his sweat-slick shoulder, and help him lift his hips off of your cock.
for the first time in what feels like hours, taehyung takes a deep, full breath of air. he cups your face in a hand and smiles, wide and content.
"i didn't believe you could be more beautiful," you murmur, words slightly clipped at the end from a lack of breath. "i've never been happier to be wrong."
he opens his eyes with a flutter of lashes, pleasantly surprised. "haven't i already let you take me?"
"what do you mean?" you ask with a frown, tilting your head. your thoughts are foggy with warm laziness. the fire's heat does not help. "taehyung?"
the sound of his name almost startles him. he sits up, and a pleasurable ache sparks up his spine. he sucks in a deep breath. "you really… truly think that of me?"
you blink slowly, like a cat, and the fire's flames dance in your eyes. "i am a simple soldier. lies are above a man like me."
"you're more than that," he replies immediately, turning around on your lap to face you properly. "if you were just a soldier, you would have died on that battlefield. forgive me, but you had all the time to die on your way down the river. still, you survived." his voice softens, and he fiddles with your collar, straightening it and folding it down. "i am glad you did. i am glad to have met you."
"ah…" gently, you tug his shirt down, allowing him the return of some of his dignity, though he does not seem to care. "that reminds me – i shouldn't waste much time here. i should report to the general."
"for what?" taehyung scoffs, and it sounds… hurt. he glances away. "am i so repugnant you would rather march thirty miles a day in mud-soaked boots than stay here with me?"
"no!" you protest, sitting up as best you can with the growing ache in your side. you had been too caught up in the moment to remember it, and now your body reminds you jealously. "t'ain't that, taehyung. you are intelligent and kind and if we were in my homeland, i wouldn't hesitate to ask your hand. but surely you have a girl you're supposed to marry?"
"no, not at the moment. despite what he says, my father still grieves my mother. it will be a while yet before he'll allow another woman into the house." he traces shapes into your skin. "i will free you from the servitude of the evil king who bound you, and together, princess and dragon will live freely, with the wind in their hair and the sun on their backs."
at first, you smile at the newfound softness of his voice, but freeze. "free… of servitude?"
taehyung watches you, draping his legs over the other side of the armchair, kicking his feet lazily. his eyes are dark and watchful. "as i know it, the king's oath swears that you are only relieved of your duty when you give your blood for his and fall in battle against his enemies. have you not satisfied these requirements?"
"i may be no scholar, but i'm near certain that to 'fall in battle' means to die in it."
"have you not satisfied these requirements?" he repeats, firmer. "our doctors and priests said you were dead when i brought you to them. they said you may have been alive when i found you, but somewhere between the riverbank and their stone table marked the spot where you died. as they proclaimed this, you coughed again, and nobody could deny me this time when i said you were very clearly alive."
"you are telling me that i died… and returned? like a saint?" you ask sceptically.
"i only tell you what our doctors told me."
for a while, you are silent. determination creases taehyung's brow, and you cannot hold in the disbelieving laugh that erupts from you, though it morphs into a groan of pain in the middle. taehyung sits up and presses his palm to your cheek, his eyes so vivid and certain.
"you have already died, and thus retain no obligations to the crown," he whispers. his gaze scours your face. "you are free. free to stay here. live here…"
with me.
your heart drops into your stomach. you grip his waist, shifting in the velvet chaise. "i'm…"
"agree. agree to it. even if i cannot bear your children, we will sleep in the same bed, take walks in the wheat fields, eat and drink every meal together. you won't fear for your life every day. and as soon as the war ends and they open the trade routes to your home, i shall book passage on a ship and take you there. you may stay, if you wish. i won't deny you."
"then why offer at all?" you ask quietly. "if you think i'll leave you the moment i can, why would you even try?"
"i can hope, can i not? by all accounts our kings have no desire to cease any time soon. perhaps you will learn to love me in time." he smiles, faint, and averts his gaze. "otherwise, i will be glad to help another soul. you will survive the war and return to your family, whole and healthy. out here, away from people, i have little chance to do something so good and noble."
"and if i grow restless? if i want to do something with my hands?"
he tilts his head thoughtfully. "how is your aim?"
"fair, i s'pose. haven't missed when it's important."
"the lord's hunter grows old," he proclaims. "he can teach you what he knows, and if you like, you may take up the title once he can no longer ride and shoot. besides that, there is always work to be done in the fields and granary – perhaps you'll find some comfort in the farms?"
you think about it, long and hard. in essence you would be a prisoner at his beck and call, though if taehyung tells the truth and is as earnest as he appears, perhaps you'll find freedom and enough work to fill your days with…
you give your answer, and taehyung's smile is like the sun.
#top male reader#x male reader#male reader#dom male reader#dom reader#top reader#bts x male reader#bottom bts#bottom taehyung#taehyung x male reader#kpop x male reader#bts x reader#kpop x reader#bts smut#taehyung smut
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🐍
🐍 — Snakes or cats?
I haven’t progressed that far into the Parabolan Wars (too expensive) but Elio has sided with the Fingerkings (because y’know,, viper — she probably would have also sided with Cats if she was a Midnighter at the time, but the decision was made when she was a Silverer so sneks it is) and Vox with the Cats — Elisha would be too paranoid to even touch Parabola I fear, you’re going to have to hold them at knife-point for that.
[ask game from here]
#fallen london#fallen london oc#idle inquiries#the despondent relinquere#elisha also is just Not Into Picking Sides#that lad does *not* have a backbone you understand#but if they really had to choose#itd be cats. they hate snakes#hate hate hate snakes in general all around#oc: vox volkov#oc: elio king
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Highly recommend bringing Anders as the sole mage with you when recruiting Fenris at least once, because MAN the dialogue he has in that situation lives in my mind rent free
edit: here it is
#dragon age#dragon age 2#anders#im biting and screaming about it#the DELIVERY of the 'ah. here it comes' line#the disappointed but not surprised air of it all#this being literally the first time these two speak and Anders has done nothing but help up to this point#yes i know you could probably do the quests in a different order but just#it generally bothers me when people go on about Anders being the one that's always first to poke at fenris#when it's just? not true for many playthroughs just based on recruiting order#plus banter is randomized and you have the same chances of Anders antagonizing him first as you have getting the one of fen calling him-#an abomination first#but back to this interaction -#I mean come on if you were in his situation here and this random guy you just helped turned around and called you a snake unprompted#would you want to interact with them again?? much less in a friendly manner?#[ending disclaimer this isnt fen hate its just pro anders fbjsd]#i could write more of my fen thoughts but that's for another post. or an ask maybe idk
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Yandere Rabbit-Hybrid
gn!reader
Yandere!rabbit-hybrid who would always bother his sweet neighbor with a bright, innocent smile despite the fact that his clothes were drenched in fresh blood and dripped everywhere he went.
Yandere!rabbit-hybrid who knew that you couldn’t say no because you were terrified that it was going to be your blood next on his clothes. His smile became even wider every time you allowed him inside with a scared smile and your eyes brimmed with tears threatening to spill.
Yandere!rabbit-hybrid whose hands would linger a little too long on your body and keeps you pressed too close for your liking to his body, sweetly whispering into your ear asking you When are we going to finally fuck like rabbits?
Yandere!rabbit-hybrid who loved it when you looked at him with your tearful eyes and quivering lips, begging him p-please no, I’m not- I’m not ready! You had no idea how turned on it made him whenever you looked at him like that. You were too distracted pleading with him to not take your virginity to notice the raging hard-on he had.
Yandere!rabbit-hybrid who gives you a patronizing laugh and smile saying just kidding! How could I do that to my sweet bunny, hm? You think that badly of me, baby?
Yandere!rabbit-hybrid who’s a loan shark and your father borrowed had a lot of money from him. When your father died from an accident, he went after the dead man’s offspring - you. Once he realized that the two of you lived in the same apartment building, with you being a floor under him, he thought it was fucking hilarious how the world seemed to hate you so much.
Yandere!rabbit-hybrid who always thought you were something cute for a human before he even you were the dead bastard's kid, but you were always running away from him one way or another. No matter how kind and generous he made himself, you were always cautious of the young rabbit-hybrid as if you could sense the snake that hid inside him. And when he appeared in front of your door with other hybrids one day with a damn smile on his face and several bigger hybrids behind, you realized that you were right all along.
Yandere!rabbit-hybrid who decided you could pay back your father’s debt in other ways. You couldn’t pay him back that kind of money. Especially not with the type of shithole you lived in and your dead-end job. Gotta have some mercy for the sad, little human, right? He reminds you. Don’t worry, you weren’t going to pay him with sex (not yet at least) despite how much he teased you with the idea.
Yandere!rabbit-hybrid who made you his new partner, or in other terms - his plaything. Other than bloody house visits and unwanted touches, he would often plan dates with you and give you gifts whenever he decided to award you for good behavior. He even awarded you with a new apartment in a better neighborhood and a life free from your terrible job.
Yandere!rabbit-hybrid who introduced you to his other, willing, partners - four different other hybrids who were even more terrifying and twisted as the rabbit-hybrid. You tried your best to blend in the wall and stay quiet, but they decided it was a great idea to take turns with you sitting on their laps, squeezing your thighs and nipping at your skin whenever you didn't answer their questions.
Yandere!rabbit-hybrid who became stupidly in love with you and he wasn’t going to ever let you go, debt paid or not. At first, the whole 'partner' thing was a joke to him. A temporary (sick) crush he had on a human who was unfortunate enough to be related to a worthless father. He figured that after he was done playing around with you, he was going to throw you away and make you pay your father’s debts no matter how much you begged him to stop.
Yandere!rabbit-hybrid who slowly prepared a permanent home for him and all of his partners (including you) could stay at. The hybrids have been talking about living together for months now but there was always something else going on that delayed the process, but now they felt ready to start. You weren't going to be happy with the news - there's only so much you could take with the rabbit-hybrid's antics, but he and the others were prepared for your inevitable tantrums and disobedience. You were going to be his for a very long time, after all.
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere oc#yandere male#yandere hybrid#yandere imagines#yandere headcanons
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Thinking ab Yan!Dr. Ratio in arranged marriage.. in whichever setting, I dont know
He doesn't like the idea of it at all. He opposes it until he can't. It would have to be a painstakingly limiting situation for him to even marry anyone, especially someone that's arranged.
When it comes to actually talking with him and setting out boundaries – he's not interested at all. He doesn't want to know you, he doesn't care, and he thinks it most likely won't change, and he'll remain uninterested..
If it weren't for the fact he's so damn touch starved.
He finds out by a lazy morning in the kitchen, your hands accidentally brushing each others as both of you carry on your routines in your own world. He doesn't realise ‐its just a brief feeling of nice. And his hand subconsciously tilts a bit to touch yours again, to emptiness. Your hand already moved away. And Aeons, he just can't get the feeling out of his head. He loved that brief moment where you both touched and he hates it.
And neither of you actually realises just how clingy he is, because he builds up to it so slowly. He pulls you along to some of his lectures, and sometimes you protest. He grabs your hand, and secretly relishes just how good the contact feels. He says there's something on your face with an annoyed tone, and brushes it off, his fingers lingering near your lips a little longer than they should. Whenever you walk by him, your scent practically intoxicates him, his head whips up from whichever book he fancied that day just to find the source of the scent, which he knows deep down, very well, it has always been you.
And it infuriates him. You have such a grip on him that it drives him up a wall.
And Aeons, he loves the feeling so so much.
He forces you to take a bath with him, telling you to keep the bathrobe on if you want to but it is a must that you join him. He tells you to move closer with a stern voice, impatience bubbling inside of him, all covered up with his signature scowl. The water sloshes as you move and his hand almost eagerly snakes around your waist, holding you snug against him. He fills the noise by asking you all sorts of things, calling you an idiot, and going on a ramble about some or the other complicated topic, trying so hard to not just hold you and bite into your shoulder, arm, neck, wherever his eyes can see your skin. You're practically driving him feral.
Oh dear, he swears he doesn't care about you. He cares even less about your personal life and whatever daily affairs you carry on. It's none of his business and he doesn't want it. But seeing you talk and become so chummy with another man boils a kind of anger he's never experienced before. As if to prove him wrong, Veritas tells you to sleep beside him at night, not answering your "why"s and shutting you up in an instant with something or the other. The summer heat is bad, but it's even worse with Veritas practically sticking himself to you, the direct skin-to-skin contact creating an absurd amount of sweat and humidity under the covers. His arms just tighten their grip around you if you ask him to get off. He won't. He needs to prove to himself, that bumbling buffoon won't ever get as close to you as he can. He will make sure of it.
And suddenly, he starts presenting just how possessive he is behind doors. He always keeps an eye on what you're up to from behind you, telling you to stop overthinking and to just come to him, that it'll take you months to understand this concept, and to just let him help you instead. Who else would tolerate you as well as him? Just let his hand keep it's deathly grip on your thigh, or arm, maybe even your waist. Its a fair exchange, and he's being generous, when it really comes down to it. Ugh, you're testing his patience too much. Just.. let him shut you up with a harsh kiss, don't ask, and let him continue. Keep listening, or he'll test you, and he won't go easy on you if you get those questions wrong. He has a lot of pent up frustration about you, anyway. You'll only give him a reason to take it out on you.
Don't bother going outside. Just invite your friends here, instead. You'll waste more than half your break-time just travelling alone. Maybe your idiot friends can join in on the study sessions, so Veritas knows what kind of people you enjoy surrounding yourself with. Of course, he isn't amused at all. Idiots, the lot of them. Is this who entertains you? He scoffs. Perhaps letting you talk to them in the first place was a mistake. Yes, of course.. just talk to him, instead. He's much better than them. You'll only waste your time around them.
#moonink#hsr#honkai star rail#hsr ratio#hsr veritas#honkai star rail dr ratio#hsr dr ratio#yandere hsr x reader#hsr x gender neutral reader#hsr x you#hsr x y/n#hsr x reader#yandere hsr sunday#yandere hsr x you#yandere hsr#yandere honkai star rail x reader#yandere honkai star rail#yandere dr ratio#yandere veritas ratio#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail x gender neutral reader#honkai star rail x you
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l o o k | a t | m e
l o o k | a t | m e
Y/n and Tim are sharing a very intimate moment, and he wants nothing more than for her to look at him. Let's be honest, who doesn't want to look at him?!
Warnings and such: ummm yeahhhh....absolutely smutty...soft smut, but still smut! 18+ no minors. Some swearing and mentions of spit...definitely not proofread! let me know if I missed something?
A/N: I have a lot of smut written in general and I like it better than the soft stuff, but i like soft stuff! Not sure how I feel about this one so lmk!
ALSO: lmk what other tags i should add to these posts!
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"Look at me."
His voice was gentle but demanding, the echo of his words like a lifeline to drag me back to reality, out of this incoherent but beautiful headspace.
Look at me
Like a soft echo, something to focus on. His voice.
My back arched and hips rolled. I felt like I was on fire, and I was loving every moment of it. As I tried with any strand of willpower I had left to open my eyes, the vision of Timothée came into focus. He was beautiful. He was always beautiful, but this was a different kind of beautiful.
"Look at me," He repeated, smiling softly down at me.
With pleasure.
A few moments passed, or maybe a few hours, before my eyes grew heavy again, vision blurred as I fought against rolling my eyes back with pleasure.
I gasped loudly, a string of groans following instantly as he bent over me, his hips burrowing into mine as he thrusted deeper into me. My legs wrapped tightly around his lower back, hands clawing desperately at him. I thought, for a moment, I would die if I lost the feeling. He dropped to his elbows, caging me below him and began trailing sloppy kisses across my neck and chest, interrupted only by feverish pants and profanities which presented themselves as deep groans through gritted teeth.
"T-Tim," I gasped again, feeling his hips roll in an effort to get impossibly further inside me. My nails dug into his back before reaching for his shoulders.
I was desperate. I could feel it coursing through my body. Close wasn't close enough.
Sweat dampened curls bounced in front of my eyes and tickled my nose when he took a moment to look down at where our bodies met. That was one of his favorite sights in the world. My hand reached higher, tugging the hair at the top of his head- I needed his eyes on me. I needed him to watch me come undone beneath him. He obliged.
One hand snakes it's way under my shoulder, pulling me down to meet his thrusts. There was no way of possibly being any closer, but everything was worth a try. My hips rolled up again, head back and my shut tightly. I opened my mouth, desperate to scream out the tingling sensation that rumbled in my stomach, but nothing came out. My breath quickened and I managed a moan, but nothing near what I was feeling on the inside.
"Look...at me," Tim repeated, panting between thrusts. His arm left my shoulder, finger trailing lightly down my stomach until he reached the bundle of nerves I had between us. I didn't need to open my eyes to see the smirk on his face, but my eyes opened quickly at the warm feeling of fluid that wasn't my own landing just above where I needed him to touch me. I looked down and watched as he spit drooled again, thumb collecting it and pressing harshly against me.
I was done.
I screamed, legs shaking around him as my orgasm washed over me. He continued to fuck me through it, wave after wave of pleasure consuming my body. It was almost too much. Almost.
"Fuck!" He grunted loudly, fingers digging into my hips as he chased his own release.
The room was silent, aside from the two of us desperately trying to catch our breaths. There was no more moaning, groaning or echoing of skin against skin. I whimpered as he pulled out of me, the empty feeling consuming all of my thoughts. I hated it. Tim ran a finger up my slit, collecting whatever juices spilled out on the tip of his finger.
"Open,"
I did as I was told, the salty taste in my throat sent a new wave of excitement through my. I fought, again, to open my eyes, to take in the sight of him- sweaty and restless and fucked. Though heavy eyelids I watched him stand, pull on a pair of long forgotten boxers and run his hands though his hair. He smiled when he caught sight of me staring.
"Pretty baby," He whispered, climbing back in bed and straddled my still shaking hips. "you alright?"
"Mhmm," I mumbled, not sure if I could remember how to talk.
He smiled and bent over me, feather light kisses trailing across my face, down my neck and across my collarbones. His hair, once again, ticking my nose. I ran my fingers gently up and down his back, soothing the raised lines and crescent shaped bumps I had left against his skin. They'd be gone my morning, almost entirely anyway, but for the rest of the night, each touch was reminder and heated my body with excitement and anticipation.
"Come on," his voice echoed in my ears again as he spoke, climbing off of me again. "Let's get cleaned up."
I didn't move. I couldn't. I wanted more.
"Y/n," He cooed again. "Look at me..."
#timothée chalamet#timothee chalamet#timothee chalamet imagine#timothée chalamet fluff#timothee chalamet smut#timothee chalamet soft#timothee chalamet x y/n#timothee chalamet x reader#fluff#smut#soft smut#y/n#x reader#one shot#imagine#timothee chalamet as regulus black#regulus black#regulus#black#regulus deserved better
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Half of the problems in acofaf (specifically with Rue) could be solved if everyone just communicated better
#stupid snake talk#the conflict with Rue & Hob#and how although they share moments of intimacy and understanding they still don’t fully have a connection#an understanding#hob does not understand that this love is not a thing that can easily go away for rue or that it even benefits rue#rue (from the snippet of ep 9 we got) doesn’t understand hobs current conflict not only in regards to rues relationship but with his court#in general#and also rue and wuvey#god they rlly just need to talk properly#i don’t have any cool words to put this in I just think they need to sit down and chat#rue must undertand the position wuvey is in and wuvey must uh. idk just be more open I guess what do you want from me#I’m not good at critiquing character actions#also half of these problems would also be solved if regency society wasn’t so shit#like god be normal fucking people just talk it out Jesus stop beating around the bush I hate you guys /lh#also I GET IT that’s what makes the conflict interesitng and that’s why regency is how it is but uGHHH#you guys all suck I hate regency from a purely analytical aspect it’s sooo annoying 🙄🙄🙄
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I DONT SMOKE
playboy! j. jungkook x f!black reader || (18+) || reblogs would be appreciated!
warnings : college party, mentions of smoking, smoking, smut, slight spanking, smoking during sex
You hated partying. Not entirely..you’d have fun but it dies down quickly when you had no one to talk to. Boring.
You could stay inside and watch the smoke in the air, drinks ultimately being spilled, and sweaty bodies dancing and getting it on in the corner, or you could stay out outside of the large house.
Being in college was truly an experience for you. You just hated that it wasn’t as exciting for you as the movies made it out to be. “Fuck..” You scratch your head, groaning while pulling out your phone to get an uber. Campus wasn’t too far away.
“Ahshit- damnit.” You hear a faint curse, followed by failed attempts of a lighter being struck. Eyes followed the sound, and you couldn’t have regretted it more. Jeon Jungkook. It’s his party after all. Another reason why you didn’t want to be there.
You didn’t know him personally- only having met a few times. He couldn’t even remember your name if you offered $50. He was a lot of things your disliked. A playboy, a smoker, a hardcore party thrower. Not only that- he does it often, and the girls who brag about how good he is in bed…disgusting.
Now, it wasn’t you trying to put yourself up. You weren’t exactly an innocent person. You enjoyed drinking when in the mood, and you’ve slept with a few people. It’s just him. Bumping into each other became so tiresome for you that you changed route’s to your classes. Him generally just not giving a fuck is what pissed you off.
But now? Now he looks up from his cigarette. Now he slowly starts walking towards you, and you started to wish you had ordered that uber instead of being curious.
“Hey- do you have a light?”
“I don’t.” you hum, looking away from those eyes. Everything about the man was just..stunning, that you could admit. Down to the piercings on his lips to the ones in his ears, and onward to his tattoos and hair that curled past his ears. Truly a beauty. You clear your throat as you tapped your foot impatiently, phone somehow slipping into your pocket.
“Why not?” He asks, getting closer. Jungkook was..a curious one. He could snuff you out in an instant, from his view he knew you didn’t have a lighter.
“Why don’t you have a spare? Coming out here knowing your lighter didn’t work. Honestly, seems to me like you came outside and found an excuse to talk to me.” You found yourself grinning, but looking off to the side. Jungkook almost laughed, covered by a chuckle. Rocking on his heels, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Was it that obvious?”
I don’t like you. You wanted to say. Everyone knew you didn’t smoke, including him. You could be a party girl if you kept to it. It’s only on nights like this where you reject every pass made at you.
“I don’t smoke.” You sigh, defeated by your will to stay. “Then let’s get a drink.” he counters, smiling. Cheeky bastard.
“Not in the mood.” It was a game at this point. He wanted you, but you didn’t want to be his girl for the night. You didn’t do hookups. No one night stands. Anyone you’ve ever given your body to has stayed for at least a while. Knowing Jungkook he’d never commit.
“Let me drive you home then.” His hand snaked around your waist. “I have an uber coming-“
“Then i’ll wait out here with you.”
“Christ Jeon.” He starts laughing, and you couldn’t help but do the same. He does however, lean into your shoulder. You shiver at the coldness of the metal on his lip. “Let me take you back inside.”
No. you would day no. You didn’t like him, he’s a whore, and you have morals. You’re a woman of society! A man of his..whatever- would not influence you.
~
“Right..r-right there..” You did not say no. Face tucked into Jungkook’s pillow as his cock slipped into your folds once more, tip touching that spot inside of you that sent you over the edge. It’s been so long… “Oh!” You gasp, shuddering at the feeling of his slipping past your rings, and out..and in.
“Fuck..you feels so good. So good f’me hm?” He hums, pulling your hips back onto his cock, fully bottoming out inside of you while everything rested there..deep inside. “hm?” he asks once more, in a hum. He goes to give a slight smack to your ass, watching how it recoiled back. He was enchanted to say the least. From the very first time his eyes landed on your brown ones. Infatuated with every little thing you’ve done. And finally, he go you.
“Yes! y-yes..” You felt your eyes flutter as they rolled back, tips of his fingers stroking at your sensitive clit. Pussy swallowing around his thick cock. “Taking me in so well.” You’re his favorite girl. You weren’t aware, but mentally he was already thinking of the next time he’d get you like this. Ass up while he fucked you until the party’s over.
The thought of the party still going on while he plowed into you turned Jungkook on so much. “S-shit.” Pussy drunk was an amazing feeling, he didn’t get that feeling often.
Jungkook found himself reaching for the lonely cigarette and spare lighter from his headboard. Giving another smack to your ass- making you yelp- he strikes the lighter. You lift your head at the sound, looking back at him. Your face flushed, eyes watery, still, you fucked yourself on his length. He light the cigarette, the smoke seeping from his lips while he tipped his head back.
“Wanna hit?” he smirks, taking it from his mouth and trying to put it between your lips. You could kill him.
#bts jungkook#v chats 🐚#jungkook#jeon jungkook smut#jungkook jeon#jeon jungkook#jeon jungkoooook#jjk#bts x black reader#bts smut#bts army#bts#jungkook x black reader#black reader#golden jungkook#jungkook x reader#jungkook smut#jungkook x female reader#jungkook x you
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One of the main reasons I've been so fond of Otasune since I first knew it was a thing was because I think they're genuinely one of the purest forms of love in Metal Gear.
Throughout the series we see horrible relationships between horrible people trying to get by and then that relationship gets dragged through the awful scenarios they live with, be it war, internal struggles, infidelity etc. Despite this common place struggle with so many other characters, we see Otacon and Snake steadfast loyal and healthy throughout every struggle they go through.
They may not be an official couple, but they will always stay the most communicative relationship even outside of shipping. I see people joke about how Otacon kind of bosses Snake around (especially in MGS4), but I always saw it as refreshing. In the series, there is so many times where x character does something horrendous and y character just sits aside and silently sulks about it.
But this doesn't happen, like at all, with Dave and Hal. There are many times where Snake doesn't think about consequences to his actions as a general rule of soldier, however Hal has never been a soldier. So when these things happen, Otacon tells him off and it's something Snake genuinely needs to hear. It's something human, away from combat. Because Otacon is one of the very few characters that talks to Snake as a person, as a human, not as a soldier or fucked up clone baby.
Snake has gone his whole life scrapping the bottom of the barrel to stop feeling so lonely, he flirts with every woman he sees, he attaches himself very easily onto superiors, etc. Snake is a man who has spent his whole life trying to appeal to people, to get the praise he was never allowed as a child. Otacon gives him the comfort he never got. While any military superior can say Dave is the best of the best. None will look him in the face and tell him he has to live to just live.
Hal also opens a lot of doors to Snake's own discovery about himself. While this next point might sound a little cringy, stick with me. People may joke about the anime interest Snake and Otacon share, but it always came across so genuinely sweet to me. Snake's only interests up until he met Otacon have been, stop feeling lonely and war. I think even part of his musher life and interests within sledding can contribute to part of this. I mean come on, not even a regular musher keeps 50 dogs in their house and dogs are a natural remedy to loneliness. But in all seriousness, David refers to the huskies as his only family and I don't see him connecting with any other mushers he works with, it reads as him wanting to not be alone while also still being so lonely. As well as how mushing is considered a more normal interest than being an otaku, especially in the early 2000s. Mushing is a sport, and being an Otaku was pretty much unheard of or hated. Watching this guy who has been stuffed full of war propaganda scream a dorky "falcon punch" and "ninjutsu" with his best friend is so heartwarming in a way.
As well as Otacon's whole meme turned question of "do you think love can bloom on the battlefield?" Is something that I think Snake needed to be asked. It's probably been something he's been thinking about. It is also one of the most human things Snake asked throughout the game. About finding love in fear. Otacon constantly prods into Snake's heart and brings out the good in him.
Not only does Hal open up a space for Snake to have genuine unashamed interests and show true pure humanity. He also shows off their childhood. Both Hal and David never got proper childhoods. They connect that with each other through cheesy animes, talking about uncertainty in love, finding out what life is all about, navigating feelings, and through that damn cheesy handshake hug. It's all genuinely pure and wholesome love that connects what they didn't get to explore in childhood with one another. When Snake opened that piss covered locker and saved Otacon, he brought his own salvation into his life without knowing it. The very presence of Otacon saved Snake. It's why MGS4 felt so depressing for me especially, the strain between Snake and Otacon left a hole in my little heart and made Snake feel even more hopeless.
I also want to talk about how Snake benefited Otacon.
Otacon begins as cowardly and timid, he's an incredibly insecure character that struggles to connect with others, probably stemming from the issues in his younger life. When he meets Snake, he's faced with someone he could relate to that has an outward appearance that makes him seem so much more confident than he is. Snake is not this, he's as insecure as Otacon. Indirectly, Snake is the whole reason Otacon gets on his feet to take action against terrorism, takes action to become a better person. Snake shows Hal that he doesn't haven't to be strong to do the right thing. Throughout time, Snake helps Otacon come to terms with his own self worth and issues.
In MGS2, it has one of my favorite examples. The infamous bro hug scene.
Before it, this is when Otacon allows himself to open up about his childhood, not even just Infront of Snake, Infront of Raiden too. This showcased such a development in his character because he's proudly talking about it, while even through tears he doesn't hide it anymore.
Did you know that during that scene if you pan the camera to Snake, you can see that he is crying too?
When Hal has a breakdown over his sister's death, Snake is there to comfort him as well as tell him how it is in bluntness with a hand on his back that he needs to save people. It isn't cold or callous, it's letting Otacon know that he has something worth fighting for after a loss like that. Then when they face one another, they embrace each other and Snake tells Hal that he believes in him. Hal spent a lot of time as a scientist, hoping for someone to believe in him, while Snake puts all of his belief into Hal.
I can never forget the iconic "You're the only god I can pray to, Otacon" line. Snake has a deep loyalty, love, and belief in Otacon that Otacon has never been truly given before.
They both, in turn love each other till the end of their lives. Their love was one of the most heart wrenching and beautiful things in Metal Gear Solid and it's no surprise it captivated so many people. Their relationship, whether you ship them or just see them as a bromance. There is no denying the love they feel for one another as friends or lovers is one of the most iconic and sweetest bromances out theres They have impacted so much pop culture and I love them forever, as I'm sure many of you do who read all the way to the bottom.
#mgs#otasune#metal gear solid#solid snake#otacon#hal emmerich#little sappy post sorry guys i love them
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Crowley and Plosives
@kimberleyjean asked in my recent post on rings and apostrophes why it is that I think Crowley pops the consonants of words at times, as in "BooK. shoP", and if there is a technical term for what he is doing. There is.
Let's talk about Crowley's exaggerated plosive sounds--as well as his little "mmm" thing-- and what this all probably has to do with his hiss.
In order to talk about why it likely is that Crowley pops specific consonants when he speaks-- with it being more pronounced at certain times than at other times-- we first actually have to talk about his hiss.
Crowley's hiss is less of a separate sound and more of a slur of what's known as a sibilant sound in phonology-- it's the sound of the letter s or the letters sh. If you say the word "sash" aloud, you're using sibilant sounds twice over-- once at the start and once at the end of the word. While Crowley could probably just hiss like a snake when he's in human form, we never actually hear him do that. We hear a hissing sound manifest in his sibilant sound when he is speaking-- which is to say when he's being a human over a snake. The same is true of Lord Beezlebub, whose fly buzz sound affects their speech. In their case, their sibilant sounds turn into the letter z to mimic a fly (as in, "It izzzzz written" on the tarmac in Tadfield in S1).
Sibilant sounds are part of a group of sounds known as fricatives, which are all softer in sound. They are grouped together based on how your mouth and throat move in forming the sounds and how much air is needed to move through them and in what way to say them. The letters k, p, t-- and sometimes d, b and g, depending on the word and the position of the letter in the word-- are "hard" sounds and are known as plosives. These are the sounds that Crowley tends to pop or to which he gives exaggerated emphasis in his speech. My theory as to why is basically that David Tennant decided that Crowley would feel the hiss is weak and react to it by popping his plosives to seem more intimidating, which really does go along with Crowley's psychology well.
Crowley's hiss is a feature of what of him is a snake and, as a result, will show up in the times that a snake would hiss. That means the slurred sibilant sounds show up primarily in situations in which he feels a sense of vulnerability. Snakes hiss when they're stressed or under duress and they hiss if you try to interact with them while they are digesting a big meal. In demon snake terms lol, it means Crowley is most likely to hiss in exactly the moment he does not want to (when he's anxious or afraid, which is usually when around other demons or angels). He probably cares a bit less about slurring sibilant sounds around Aziraphale after a big meal--or a "big meal"-- and Aziraphale actually probably likes it a bit as it's his life goal to keep that snake blissssssed out but the hissing around other people thing?
Crowley hates it. He haaaaaaates it. There is evidence of Crowley hating the slurred sibilants in a few scenes.
One is that when he shapeshifts into a monstrous snake to scare the guy at Tadfield Manor in S1, Crowley doesn't hiss at him-- he roars. Like a lion. (Lions are also on the arms and legs of his reason-for-therapy-alone throne chair in S1.) And this is his reaction when he makes the guy faint from fright:
He loves it. Ah, control...
Because Crowley is a lot of things, really-- he's a snake, yeah, but he's a big cat, he's a crow, he's a nightingale, he's a black swan, he's a horse... we could go on. To control the hiss when he wants to is to feel in control of himself.
We all know how much Crowley seeks as maximum control over how he's perceived by others as he's capable of generating. It's a normal response to all the trauma he's suffered. It's probably worth considering as well that Satan's attacks on Crowley render him incapable of controlling his own mind and body for the duration of the assault. He doesn't have the option to speak or, if he does, the words aren't his own. These are bodily autonomy violation issues and the result is that Crowley hates anything that makes him feel weak and the fact that he has in the hiss what amounts to a nervous tic that is a symptom of his anxiety disorder makes him feel out of control of himself.
Another example of him hating the hiss is when he intentionally slurs the sibilant s sound while mocking Heaven:
Crowley is not just talking about composers in this scene in general but using first-class composers as innuendo for sexual partners and mocking Aziraphale's potential choices if he gets stuck in Heaven for all of eternity. He does so by combining soft fricatives and his slurred sibilant hiss, showing how he equates the hiss with a sense of what he considers weak and unattractive.
The other scene that suggests this-- and shows how Crowley pops his plosives as a counter to the hiss-- is actually the end of the apology dance, when Crowley pops a t so hard, it's almost its own word: "You were righTTTTTT."
The apology dance scene and its hard T as the final note of the mock-submissive dance also makes it clear that, unsurprisingly, Aziraphale knows what the popped plosives are all about. Plosives are, well, explosive. They have harder, louder, more dramatic sounds. It seems like Crowley pops them both as a measure to counter his hiss and as a measure to try to control it. He's taught himself to respond verbally with intensive plosive popping instead of hissing, which is also why we don't actually hear him hiss all that often.
One of the only times is almost immediately after this:
Because saints and demons preserve us, it's Master Crowley, right? But then Satanic Nun!Nina interrupts them and Crowley starts slurring his sibilant sounds in sarcastic response to Aziraphale telling him that he didn't need to put the woman in a trance.
"Oh, oh, 'xcccussse me, ma'am, we're two supernatural entities looking for the notorioussss SSSSSon of SSSSSatan. Wonder if you might help us with our inquiries?'" How he controls the sentence, though, is really interesting. The extra-exaggerated sarcasm of the last sentence helps him regain control enough that the final 's' in 'inquiries' isn't hissed and he's back in control of it. He's also almost amping up the sibilant sounds he does slur sarcastically as well. Part of why it comes out here is that he allows himself to be less guarded with his speech in front of Aziraphale.
We've actually only heard him hiss his sibilant sounds about three times, if memory serves me correctly, and two of them are related to Heaven and Hell-- the two moments I mentioned above. They're examples of him trying to control-- and then sarcastically wield-- the hiss. (Particularly "celestial harmonies", which he did entirely intentionally.)
There's also one more positive instance of a sibilant slur though and that's this: "Yessssss, the 'Reign of Terror.'"
The long hiss of a "yesssss" in this scene is not one that bothers him because drawing out a sibilant sound during a sexy conversation with Aziraphale is a very different situation than one about or involving Heaven or Hell.
If you look back on the series, there are probably no more popped plosives than in Crowley trying to ascertain just wtf Gabriel is doing in the bookshop wearing nothing but their tartan bedsheet.
"WHaT. Arrre. You. DO. ING. In. THis. BooK. ShhhOP?" 😂
Crowley was literally terrified (and also losing it internally because he just jumped and basically screamed at the sight of Gabriel) and there's a very brief "shhhh" in "bookshop" that starts to slur and has him practically shouting the "OP" to finish the word without full-on hissing. It's a scene built around the plosives, really.
Gabriel probably understands Crowley's manner of speaking more than "Jim" did in this moment as Gabriel has his own affected way of speaking. His defensive speech has the same need for a sense of maintaining an appearance of control and dominance but is usually less about emphasizing plosives and more about conveying a sense of power through a perceived sense of "manliness" in a smug, corporate sort of way. The way he says "but as The Almighty likes to say: 'Climb Every Mountain'" in that 'CEO saying the bullshit company slogan to a junior employee at the company retreat' sort of way.
Gabriel usually uses intimidation through lower, more frighteningly measured tones that carry the sense that if you pissed him off, he would explode and it would not be pretty for you. It's what makes the moment when he does actually a bit shocking and that's when you hear the force come out in his speech a bit.
He pops plosives in the curse and owns the 'fucking' in that sentence as a result. That is top shelf use of a curse word, in that it's selective enough and pronounced in such a way as to give it real power. You know he's going to lose this round because he can't win it but you're still kind of afraid of him-- maybe for the first time.
But Jim? Jim has none of this.
Jim is a guileless lovebug who doesn't understand why Crowley would feel the need to speak-shout at him and pause dramatically so his "I. AM. DUSTING." response is priceless. Jim over-emphasizes all of the sounds because he doesn't know why Crowley only emphasizes the plosives and he pauses dramatically between the words more out of confused repetition of Crowley's speech pattern to try to relate to Crowley than out of understanding that it was meant to intimidate him. He uses the same sense of theatre that Crowley uses without any context as to why Crowley feels like he has to and, as a result, it guts Crowley's whole attempt to intimidate him to compensate for his own feelings of vulnerability.
Crowley and Aziraphale both are fascinated by words and the evolution of language and they speak every language in the world. This means that they both have the ability, in theory, to correctly speak in any accent in the world, which is necessary to be able to pronounce the words in every language. Between that and his self-conscious, trauma-adjacent, plosive/fricative issues, as well as just being interested in how things like pronunciation informs the evolution of language, Crowley is more aware than most of how he sounds when he speaks.
But there's also that his unique way of speaking-- when combined with his low, rumbly voice-- can be very sexy and he's aware of it, namely because it's clear that Aziraphale thinks his sounds-- all his sounds, along the full spectrum of them-- are hot. As a result, we also have scenes in the series wherein Crowley will sometimes heavily emphasize plosives-- and fricatives-- around Aziraphale just for fun because to do so has become a part of how he speaks and because the angel likes it. An example: the "lotsss of GooD DeeDsssss" bit of this:
That Aziraphale likes the full range of Crowley sounds is symbolic of the fact that Aziraphale likes the full range of Crowley, full stop. As a result, Crowley plays around with how he enunciates words, often drawing out parts of them in ways he knows Aziraphale will enjoy. His "oo" and "ou" sounds are often elongated into an "oooh"; he softens fricatives to a breath at times when speaking more gently. At other times, he amps up his RP accent and emphasizes certain words in a sentence with pauses and heavier enunciation ("canopy", "astonish") to maximize their appeal and to draw Aziraphale's attention to them, usually also for wordplay-related reasons ("did you smite them with your wrath?" in Lockdown, for example.)
Then, there is that part of their language thing also appears to be an interest in onomatopoeia, which are words that have derived in language not from a connection to other, previously-existing words but from the sounds of Earth. Crowley, in particular, loves onomatopoeia, and likes to weave words that are that into his conversation-- "frou frou", "whoop", etc.. The word "hiss" is onomatopoeia. Unlike other etymology posts I have written or will write, there is no "derived from the Old French x" or "from the Latin x" or the like for the history of "hiss"-- it's just literally that people heard a snake hissing and said that sounds like "hssss" and so we're going to call it a "hiss."
While Crowley has issues with his anxious snake hiss, though, he actively likes to make the pleasurable sound the humans (and angels and demons) can make-- the ultimate in onomatopoeia. The word that is actually more his anti-hiss than his popped plosives:
"Mmm."
"Mmm" is derived from nothing more than the human sound of contentment. It's an often almost involuntarily hum of pleasure-- the human sound of satiation. There is no other history to the word but that and there has not been since beings began to exist.
Crowley makes the sound unconsciously but he also makes it consciously at times when speaking with Aziraphale because he knows Aziraphale likes the sound of it. Case in point: the very obviously intentional "mmm" in the Edinburgh phone call (and the heavy, exaggerated plosives emphasis on what followed it):
"Mmm" is also something of an etymology joke as well because, at last count, I think I had at least twenty-five instances in a note file here about intentional wordplay between Crowley and Aziraphale that focuses on frequently confused words and phrases (to founder vs. to flounder; whoop vs. whoomp; wittering vs. withering; to get a wriggle on vs. to get a wiggle on, etc..) which I bring up mainly because, especially when written, "mmm" is frequently confused with "hmm", and the etymology of "hmm" is pretty funny from a Good Omens perspective.
While "mmm" is a sound of pleasure, "hmm" is a sound made of consideration, a kind of pause in a sentence to acknowledge something that was spoken and to either suggest you're giving it thought or to show hesitation over what was said-- or, possibly, both. While "mmm" is a contented sound derived from the human body, "hmm" is onomatopoeia because it is imitative of a different, very specific sound in nature...
...it comes from the droning sound of buzzing bees.
To Crowley and Aziraphale, "hmm"-- the sound of hesitation and reflective contemplation-- is a sound of the insects that are symbolically the angels and that's amusing to them since the humans frequently swap it out with their signature sound of pleasure while Crowley and Aziraphale do not find much about Heaven very arousing.
Crowley's new favorite hobby in S2 is making dirty jokes that are going over Muriel's head-- some of which, like his handcuff innuendo while getting Muriel to take him to (literal) Heaven, are a bit on the surface. Others, though, like the frequently confused words wordplay of using "mmm" in protest of Heaven instead of "hmm" in the "mmm, bees" moment after successfully getting one over on the angels-- are examples of just wordplay jokes that Aziraphale would have found funny that Crowley was amusing himself with in the moment.
Crowley is definitely not the only one of the two of them amping up those mmms though. The only bee who has his attention is playing right back...
...and the mmm thing is not exactly new, either...
...like for him to mmm his way through an entire barbecued ox five minutes after this...
Original post that prompted this response:
#ineffable husbands#good omens#aziracrow#good omens meta#crowley#aziraphale#good omens 2#ineffable husbands speak#etymology
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Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder.
In which your all-time-favorite cannibal starts her day by insulting your attempt at a new look, your husband doesn’t take kindly to such insults.
Warnings - Body shaming, swearing, insecurities, Susan ugh Susan, Alastor in general, suggestive themes at the end
“You look absolutely fantastic, cher!” The Radio Demon loudly proclaimed, his trademark smile pulled wider than usual as he took in your form out of its usual wear.
“Stop, you. I’m only wearing this because it looked sad sitting in the closet.” Your reasoning was silly in his opinion, “Clothes have no expression!” He would’ve said but kept to himself to refrain from making you sad.
“Well, worry not, my dear!” Alastor began, taking your hand into his and pulling you towards him at a surprising speed. “Alastor!” You yelped as he twirled you in your new dress, closing his arms around you as soon as your back hit his chest.
“You’ll always look delectable in whatever you wear…”
His voice lowered as the static in his throat rumbled from behind you, making the hairs on your neck stand on end as you squeak and noticeably shiver. “My! Stop teasing!” You finally break away from his hold and slap his bicep, scolding your husband for his behavior while he only chuckled. “Alright, alright, cher, let’s go on an outing today. Rosie will absolutely adore your look once we visit Cannibal Town!”
“Oh my stars! Alastor! Sweetie! So nice to see you lot around here again!”
Once you and your husband stepped foot into Rosie’s Emporium and into the long lines of cannibals waiting to see their overlord, the said woman weaved through the crowd with a bright smile before gasping loudly at the sight of you,
“Oh honey! You look absolutely divine, you gorgeous, gorgeous girl!” Rosie quickly held both your shoulders and gave you a little twirl with how giddy she was about you. “Oh dear, we’re doing a lot of spinning today!” You muttered as the Cannibal Overlord settled you down on the ground while dusting your shoulder off with a pat. “I told you she’d love your look, cher.” Alastor chided in with a smug grin, leaning on his cane as he waited for Rosie to stop gushing over his beautiful wife. (He’d have to wait months before the smiley woman would ever stop). After an hour of conversing, Rosie had taken her leave to continue on with her work, leaving you two alone to stroll around outside the emporium.
“You look good, girl,” A voice as rough as sandpaper spoke from behind and down your gaze was the lady in blue that you know and hate love. “Thank you, miss Su-“
“For a waitress, that is!”
Well you were caught off guard and so was your husband, “A what now?” His eye twitched as he tilted his head, the hands that were gripping his microphone now dented it. “Your little wifey here looks like she could lose a few of those tubs workin’ at a diner! No husband would wanna stay with this.” Susan gestured to you, specifically your torso. So embarrassing, really, you were so humiliated that you unconsciously pulled at the fabric covering your stomach to at least let you gain a sense of non-exposure. It was all for naught when you felt Alastor’s hand snake around your waist, the fabric under his arm pinned to accentuate your hips.
“Maybe try and aim to be someone like me! A natural beauty! Unlike your sorry excuse of a-“
“I admire the concern, Susan!” Alastor’s ever-present smile felt as if he was baring his teeth at her instead, he pulled you closer to him in the process as he narrowed his eyes at the cannibal. “Certainly big talk for a woman with a big mirror for her equally big, sagging mass of skin she calls natural beauty!” With each venom he spat, he got closer to her face, the static in his voice becoming too loud for the rest of his insults to be heard, leaving Susan to just scoff and walk away from you and your husband. Even when he had the last word though, he still gave his last word, “We’re glad you had room for a conversation with us! I was worried that you wouldn’t be able to fit!”
“Slow down, Buck, the woman’s already leaving, let’s go home.” However amused you were, the lingering sense of humiliation gnawed at you, unnoticed by your husband who continued ranting about Susan. “Big talk! Haha! I was on a roll there, cher!” A laughing track played from his cane and when he received a hum in response was when he noticed your soured mood.
Night had fallen in Hell and the two of you spent it inside your shared hotel room, the gentle breeze of the bayou that took up his room did little to cool the burning sensations in your body. “Alastor, please, I-“ “No way in Hell are you listening to that ornery old bitch, dear.” The Radio Demon trailed his claws along your stomach before he gripped your hips tight, “Your body was made to be worshipped, not insulted.” he led his hands up to rest one hand on your neck and the other intertwining with yours. “Praised by me alone.”
Your throat constricted in the way you knew well enough and as his hand left your throat, a ghostly-green chain was left in his wake.
“I alone own you, body and soul.”
#artists on tumblr#hazbin hotel#alastor my lil deer boy#hazbin alastor#alastor the radio demon#alastor#alastor x reader#alastor x you#dandydrabbles#thedandybookshelf
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🌼☕` Wearing His Clothes`☕🌼
Gen / Fluff
Includes / Alastor , Lucifer
| ALASTOR |
If Alastor could spend every evening like this, he would. A warm hellish day, a pleasant breeze that made the usual sulphuric smell that lingered in the air tolerable, and most of all, you by his side. The scarlet parasol you carried over your shoulder sifted the dying rays of the sun into a glorious red. If Alastor could devour an image he'd have this walk on a plate.
"Have I ever mentioned how marvelous you are in red?" The static of his voice crackled to life, so did the blood in your cheeks. "Very, very often." You tease, his grin widens. "Oh so not nearly enough."
You were working up a come back when something heavy dropped onto your shoulders. It smelled of chicory and black coffee, it smelled of Alastor. You poked your head up out of a collar, his collar. You stared up at your lover who twirled the parasol you must have dropped in hid hand. Spinning the red refracted light around the both if you like a kelidoscope.
"You are darling in red, I'll have to ring up Rosie to get you one of your own."
"Matching outfits Alastor? Tattoos next?"
"I was thinking rings, but by the by."
Alastor is definitely a possessive character but I don't think that translates at all to you wearing his clothes
He's actually quite protective of them, he's as particular as he is possessive and it has to be some sort of gesture for him to lend it to you
He especially holds off on lending clothes to you if you make it know you like it, just for teasing purposes of course!
He only truly lends you his bow tie or jacket and only, of course, on his terms
He finds it endearing, how flattered or excited you are at something as simple as a coat, though he holds this little secret close to his chest
It's not as fun if you can tease him back!
Due to his more animalistic tendencies/physicality he is particularly sensitive to smell
If you REALLY want to rile him up use his cologne or soap, it might take a day or two but it's impossible not to notice his increase in physical affection
Once he registers that wearing his clothes is another, far more subtle way of having you smell like him he'll be far more generous with lending you garments.
| LUCIFER |
Every few months you cleaned out the closet, Lucifer liked to buy things, you liked to wear things, both of you were terrible for over filling your closet. He was out for a day out with Charlie, which made things easier. You loved him truly but he made tossing things out difficult, it was too pretty or to cute, to sexy for him to part with. He wasn't wrong, he had an excellent eye for picking clothes you liked, but at this rate you'd need to buy a new home to accommodate for the mass amounts of clothes!
It was when putting the keeps back when you noticed it, his hat. A hat you both loved and hated, the golden snake around its brim gleaned in the light. You snatched it from the shelf at the top of the closet. Your surprised he didn't bring it today, he wore it always, especially when with Charlie. You wondered if she liked it, or if she liked it when she was a kid and bright colours were like moths to light.
You step over to stand in front of the floor length mirror. It felt like a normal hat, of beautiful craftsmanship of course, but just a normal hat. You couldn't see why he was obsessed with the thing. You felt a little silly wearing it, you felt even sillier when a snort sounded from behind you.
"Oh so that's where my hat went"
He thinks it's cute!!
He's confident so he doesn't see any real need to mark or claim you, he knows he loved you, and he knows you love him just as much!
Absolutely pleased to lend you clothes!
If it becomes a habit of yours he even goes out of his way to pick up clothes he thinks both of you will like
Turns into a fun shopping activity!
Be fully prepared for him to start stealing your clothes too though this is a two way street
Maybe it's for the best too he's got no style let's be honest
Absolutely tortures you if he discovers you think it's hot, wears your clothes out, wears your clothes in private, when your on a date
Good luck, they're pretty much his now
No hiding if you dress more feminely either he's not afraid of rocking a mini skirt
The act itself doesn't do anything but seeing you so excited about it?? That does it for him
#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel imagine#alastor x y/n#alastor x you#alastor imagine#alastor x reader#lucifer x y/n#lucifer imagine#lucifer x reader#lucifer x you
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hi yami I’m not sure if you’ve done this but what about goth Yandere? They such a cool style and always been casted out by society only to meet reader that accepts him and loves him and now goth Yandere sends them secret love letters that r creepy (dildos and vibrators that they used to show their devotion but if this is too much u can ignore that part) carving readers name into his arm
hope you like this!! I’m trying to get to requests that I feel like I can write abt easily
desc: goth yandere x gn reader, mentions of bullying, yandere behaviors/themes, self harming by the carving your name into his arm, general creepy obsession/stalking habits, he’s a crazy and manipulative one just in a sneaky way ^_^
Your fingers wrap around your locker’s handle, a pink letter closed with a red heart sticker is the first thing you lay your eyes on. Another one? Seriously, you’ve gotten so many of these letters by your new friend it makes you wonder what they’re even supposed to mean.
You recently befriended an outcast, a lonely guy that was paired up with you for a project, you bonded well with him and found out the two of you have similar music tastes but other than that you had nothing in common.
You were outgoing, funny and he seemed to be the opposite, quiet and reserved, the type to laugh at someone’s jokes but not make one. Even if you don’t have similar hobbies you tried to have conversations with him since he looked cool, you really liked his style which you complimented on, making him blush without fail each time.
And you knew about his reputation, being a creep and someone that you should be avoiding, but you wanted to give him a chance, you’ve set up a goal to be less close minded and stop caring about what people think, and that’s gained you more friends than you’ve ever had usually.
Picking up the letter with your thumb and pointer, you open it up, finding a matching pink paper inside, clearly dyed with some sort of natural thing, possibly roses?
‘I wanted to thank you again for coming over yesterday, I enjoyed our time together, I’m hoping you’d like to hangout again? Perhaps today? If you want, I get it if you’re busy, but I really want to continue the game we were playing. I made sure to save our progress and write down what quests we need to do next!!“
You’ve always questioned why he doesn’t just text you, you gave him your number not too long ago anyways. You don’t want to crush his spirit so you don’t ask him, you wouldn’t want to upset him since he already seemed sensitive to things.
“Did you like my letter? I dyed the paper pink with some flowers that I grew in my backyard” Your new friend pops up, making you jump in one place as your eyes glance at him, another stylish black outfit with his usual under the eye black eyeshadow, you notice the fake tattoos he doodled on his hands when he hands you another gift.
“Open this when you’re with me at lunch, it’s a little embarrassing..” He plays with his snake bite piercings as he chews on his lip, brushing raven hair out of his face to look at you and observe your expression.
“Thank you, I’m guessing your love language must be gift giving huh?” You say with a small grin, putting the small gift box in your locker, happy it fit perfectly since it seemed to carry a decent amount of things based on the weight.
“Y-yeah.. it is” He mumbles, his face feeling hot as he remembers what was in the box, he’s squirming in place just thinking about your reaction to it, he’s excited to see you, even more now because of it.
The two of you walk to class and the time passes all too fast when you’re day dreaming about other things, you make sure not to forget your present as you head to the enormous courtyard, finding the usual tree the two of you sat under.
Away from others, something he immensely enjoyed, he hated that you had other friends that weren’t him but he tried to not act out in-front of you, fearing you’d hate him if you saw his true behavior.
“Okay..! Open it now” He crossed his legs, sitting down in-front of you, eager as his eyes trail all over your face, wanting to see if you’d enjoy it.
You lift the box’s top to see a few items, items you never expected to be gifted. The box contained a few sex toys, wrapped up like a normal gift, some dildos and two vibrators, all differently assorted by their colors. You can tell he put some thought to the gift, having included lube and condoms.
“Oh- um.. thank you. I really didn’t expect this” You awkwardly laugh, not sure how to react, could you even express how odd this was? To be given toys when the two of you aren’t even together? God this was so painfully awkward, how could you pretend to express gratitude?
“Do you like it? Please say that you do” He leans towards you, eyes flying over his gift to make sure everything was exactly how he intended. He fixed his posture and made eye contact with you, wondering if you liked it. Judging by your reaction he was really nervous. He should’ve just waited longer, maybe this was too soon, what if you hated it? Or thought he was a creep and would leave him like everyone else has?
“It’s.. nice!! It’s really nice, thank you, I’ll um- save that for later” You have a wobbly smile on your face, terrible at lying as you fix the top back on, placing it beside you. You can tell he isn’t convinced.
“Is it not good enough? I’m sorry, I can take it back, you don’t have to pretend” His bottom lips quivers as his eyes become glassy, he can feel his throat clenching as he tries to swallow an invisible lump of embarrassment and shame.
“N-no! It’s great! It’s really cool! I just didn’t think it was something like this. I really appreciate it, I was.. thinking about buying some lately anyways, you practically read my mind” You spill the spiel that you think someone would say when they’re genuinely happy with a gift.
“R- really?” He looks up, no longer staring at the ground, his cheeks and nose were flushed by him on the brink of tears, he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, smudging his eyeshadow slightly. He hugs you, content that you enjoyed it. He was so worried that you’d hate it and hate him too!!
You think the letters and gifts got creepier and creepier because of that situation. You tell yourself that you shouldn’t have tolerated and spoiled him for his odd habits, but ultimately pity almost always took over and made you feed into his delusions.
It’s probably why something even stranger happened three weeks later.
“Hey..! I have a present, well.. not an actual present but it’s something for you” He sputters out his words, pulling on his snakebites, trying to think of the right words.
“Sure, where is it?” You say, clueless of what other gift he might give you. The last times it’s been toys, a weird resembling homemade plushie of him and other things you can’t quite remember.
“Well.. it’s not done yet but I’ll be able to show you it tonight” He seems jittery, ecstatic to show you what he has for you. “I’ll show you when I come over today!”
The day passes rather regularly, enough as it can be with a quiet puppy following you around, always trying to have your attention but being too shy to do anything obvious.
Before he went over your house he was finishing up his art. He grabbed his favorite knife and moved his arm to lay on the table, poking the sharp metal into his arm to carve the last letter in his skin, making sure it pierced deep in order for it to scar. He’s been wearing long sleeves for about 3 weeks to hide his little project.
He quickly grabbed his usual cleaning supplies, making sure it was wrapped up for a bit. He’s picked up the habit on knowing how to clean up deep punctures in the skin, just so he didn’t have to explain to a doctor that he was purposefully stabbing himself for his crush.
Once he finished cleaning his wound, he threw away the wrappers and garbage on his desk, not wanting his mother to snoop and find used first aid supplies. She’d probably worry too much about him, not understanding his obsession with you.
As he leaves his house he says his goodbyes, making sure to inform her that he was visiting you again. He ran his way to your house, eager to see you.
“Hey, ready to play some games?” You smile at his presence, noticing him holding his arm as if sore, he was also somewhat sweaty but you don’t question it and just invite him like usual.
“Mhm!” He happily skips inside, seemingly on top of the moon as he sits down, getting everything ready like usual. You make your way to the kitchen, deciding to make some tea, you call out to him if he’d like some. “Yeah, can you add sugar?” He peeks over the couch, looking at you, or more like admiring if you focused enough.
You nod and bring the teas on a ceramic tray you recently bought, cherry blossoms painted throughout. You set it down, noticing that he seemed out of it, or maybe just anxious, you haven’t gotten a full grasp on what certain faces meant on him.
“…I wanted to show you the gift, um.. I hope you really like it” He weakly smiles, pinching on his shirt’s sleeve before showing you his arm. The left forearm that contained a healed scar fading into an unhealed area. You were so focused on the wound it took you a minute to realize it was your name. It was carved into his skin, he purposefully did this?
“Do you like it? It took me awhile and it hurt at first but I got used to it. I even added a little heart at the end” His voice was softer than usual, sweetly looking up at you, immediately uneasy by your expression that sat with disbelief.
“Please say something? Do you not like it? Is it because it wasn’t your full name? I knew I should’ve done it but I was worried that I would run out of space” His voice becomes whiny, frowning as he covers up his arm. He starts to scratch at it, a new bad habit he’s developed but it hasn’t made his wound bleed, yet.
“It’s perfect! I love it, I was just speechless. Did you really do it yourself? I thought for a moment it was a tattoo” You were desperate to keep quiet but the need to make him feel better eventually won. You knew this bad, that he was crazy, everything about this situation made your body pump with adrenaline to run but you stayed put.
You just stood and soothed him with your hands in his hair, trying to comfort his worries. You weren’t sure why, but nobody else has been here for him so of course he’s clinging on to you. Maybe you can convince him to stop doing these things?
You just have to stick around a little while longer and fix him, that’s possible right?
#yxami’s yam#yandere#yandere x you#yandere x y/n#male yandere#yandere imagines#yandere scenarios#crazy yandere#obsessive yandere#yandere obsession#Yandere x reader#yandere x gn reader#yandere x gender neutral reader#yandere boy#yandere male#yandere male sub#yandere goth#goth yandere
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Unwavering Presence Chapter 11
Cassian X Archeron Sister (Reader)
Summary: Cassian and Y/N spend their first few days in the Cabin by the Illyrian Camps where the two spend time getting to know each other and overall being the most adorable couple. Also Flying, cooking lessons (Interrupted) and lots of cuddles and sass.
Content Warnings: The mention of a Safe Word being ignored (Not by Cassian), Wing Clipping, and cliffhanger
Word Count: 5.2K
Unwavering Presence Masterlist ACOTAR Masterlist Chapter 10
Reader’s POV
I was finally kissing him. His mouth was soft and gentle as it was pressed against mine. His hands lowered to the swells of my ass, and he grinded against me eliciting a gasp. Cassian took advantage and slid his tongue into my mouth. A moan escaped my lips, and the general’s hand moved up to my hair yanking the tie holding my braid in place. I break away from the kiss and shake my braid out as my hair falls in loose waves.
Cassian’s honey-soaked eyes lock on mine as he runs his fingers through my hair, I closed my eyes as he massaged my scalp and hummed, “You are a beautiful little thing.” He murmured against my skin. “Absolutely, beautiful.”
Stupid Whore Xavier’s voice rang out in my head.
His free hand slid up and snaked groped my breast, twisting my sweater clad nipple, “Cassian,” I moaned out Xavier’s words falling away.
He growled in my ear as he continued his massaging my breast, “I’ve been aching to hear you moan my name, Princess. Do it again.”
I tilted my head back and sighed, “Cassie.” I whimpered as he nipped my ear giving me love bites down my neck.
He chuckled, “Cassie, huh?” I meet his eyes and there is amusement there, “I don’t hate it. In all my life no one, ever really called me that.” He kissed my collar bone until he reached my bared shoulder, breaking from my nipple he slid his hand down over my thighs, “Where did you find these?” He snaps the elastic from my sock falling right above my knee.
“I found them shopping. They keep my legs warm.” Heat crawled up my cheeks as he nibbled my shoulder, “I have a red pair.”
Cassian pulled his face away from my bare skin, his lips tilted upward slightly on brow arched, “Do you, now” I nodded. “Will you wear them for me?” I nodded once more, and he grinned, and he was beautiful as he slanted his mouth over mine.
It’s nice that Cassian found a new plaything. Mor’s voice echoed in my mind.
Remember you’re nothing but a toy. My own plaything.
Cheap whore, whore, whore.
“Hey, Hey, Hey. What’s going on, Princess?” I blinked and met with Cassian hands on my cheeks, his face furrowed with concern, “Did I hurt you?”
I gripped his wrist and shook my head, “You didn’t hurt me.” I bite my lip to prevent it from trembling. The words swirled in my head. “Am I going to be your plaything?” I closed my eyes to not see his reaction, afraid of what he might say.
The pads of his thumbs swipe soothing circles on my cheeks, taking away any tears that fall in their path. “Y/N, I need you to look at me.” I shook my head, “Baby, please look at me.” I gave in and met his gaze, “There she is.” He gave me a small smile before it fell again. “What makes you think that I see you that way?”
“Mor said-“
Cassian pressed a finger over my lips, “Mor says a lot of things. A lot of stupid. Fucked up things. Most of the time she’s wrong.” He sighed, “Is this about the ‘Plaything’ comment?” I bit my lip, “She was being cruel, you didn’t de-“
“She was right.” I blurted, pulling gently his hands from my face. “Cassian, I am just a plaything.” I tried to slide off his lap, but he was quick to loop an arm around my waist.
He began threading his hand through my hair, “Who made you believe that?”
I looked at the fireplace and the flames and slid out of his lap. This time he let me go, creating some distance between us. “No one important.”
Cassian turned to face me his wings flared slightly, “Liar.” I met his gaze, his hazel eyes a dark amber color against firelight crackling in the hearth, “Was it the same person who gave you those scars about your back.” I nodded, and he pressed on “Would that also be the same man who took you a few days ago?”
I nodded and pulled my knees to my chest. “Feyre knows I had a lover. She doesn’t know the dynamic or how long we were together for.” I looked back at the flames.
A rag was stuffed in my mouth and my hands were bound by silk ribbon hanging over the sofa, as there was another whack of the paddle against my ass. “Who’s a Naughty Girl. I told you; you were to warm my bed last night. Yet you were nowhere to be seen.” Xavier’s words rang out in my ears.
My response was muffled through the rag. I had to get home to my sisters to bring home the money I had just earned. At this point they had noticed I would be gone periodically and knew when I came home there would be money in my pocket. No one asked, I never wanted to talk about it.
My ass was sure to be read and bruised by his vicious swings. He began to knead the tender flesh causing me to cry out through the gag. He hummed please as he stuck a finger in my entrance. “You’re basically dripping, doll.” He stuck another finger and began aggressively pumping his fingers causing me to scream out. He clamped a hand over my mouth, the rag pushing farther into my throat. “Shhh, if it’s too much you can always use that word, we agreed upon you remember?”
I nodded my head as my eyes rolled as his thumb found my clit, I moaned, and his fingers suddenly withdrew, and I cried as the paddle whacked my core. Tears and snot were running down my face, and he whacked me again and I whimpered. I screamed through the gag, “Red, Red, Red.”
There was a pause, and another whack to my core and my voice gave out from screaming, all that was left was whimpers and sniffles. “Don’t you know, slut, bad girls don’t get safe words.”
Cassian’s hand gripped mine and I blinked looking back at him, his eyes gleamed with concern “Where did you go?”
Tears welled in my eyes, “No where.”
Cassian slid closer to me and pulled me back on his lap. His hand gently gripping my thigh. I tucked my head into his neck, “We don’t have to talk about it.”
“I want to tell you. I just don’t know where to begin.” I bit my lip a question on the tip of my tongue, “Have you ever had to use a safe word before?”
“I mean I’ve never had to use one, but I’ve always established one with my partners.” He tugged my shoulder, and I sat up so he could meet my eyes. Why?”
“Xavier, told me that if things got to be too much, that anything we did would stop, but I only used it once.” Cassian held me tighter to prevent me from trembling and I leaned into his warmth. “He told me bad girls don’t get safe words.” A tear escaped and cascaded down my cheek, “And he kept hitting me with the paddle. When he was done, he just left me there tied, a rag in my mouth that had was soaked with saliva, tears, and snot, I’m sure. I felt worthless.
Cassian’s siphons flared and, in an instant, he has set me in a position where I had to face him, ire held in his stare, as he gripped my face with both of his hands, “I need you to listen to me very carefully,” he stroked my cheek tenderly, “Safe words are meant for your protection, always. No matter what the scene is, no matter if it’s a light hair tug, you say the word and your partner stops everything immediately.” He furrowed his brow and thought about his next words, carefully, “Sweetheart, you were assaulted.”
I warily pulled his hands from my face, “No, he wouldn’t have done that. He loved me.” Pity filled Cassian’s gaze making me sick, “I would have known if he had, wouldn’t I?”
Cassian placed both his hands on the couch placing them near my sides making sure not to touch me. “You didn’t know better. He spun his webs knowing you were innocent enough to trust him. That’s not your fault. You used your word the way you were supposed to. He took advantage of your lack of knowledge for his own sadistic pleasure.”
I shook my head, “No, I would have known.” Cassian’s face crumbled and rage began to boil over. Cassian stood and took a step back as if he knew and I lunged for him, punching my fist into his chest. “He wouldn’t have done that he loved me. He told me so. I was bad, I disobeyed, I deserved my punishment. He did it because he loved me.” Cassian hadn’t moved to stop me from pounding against his chest. “I wanted it.” My punches became weaker.
Cassian sighed, “You have good instincts, baby, there was a moment deep down where you knew it was wrong. That it had turned more sinister than that. It’s why you fled them. I don’t think you wanted it.” Cassian kept his hands to his sides allowing me to take my rage out on him, knowing he could take it.
“It can’t be true. I would have known if I was taken advantage of,” I scrunched my eyebrows, “Wouldn’t I?”
Memories flooded to me of all the times when I craved Xavier to hold me or cuddle me after an intense moment between us and he refused to leave me there as if I meant nothing. Moments I laid bare on the concrete longing for someone to care for me to be met with emptiness. Xavier’s words of love and adoration were hollow compared to the sweet gestures and comfort the male in front of me provided. “Oh gods.” I whispered and I seized my punches as my hand covered my mouth to muffle the sob. My knees felt weak, and my stomach churned the dinner wanting to come out, “Oh my gods.” My knees gave out, but Cassian was there clinging me to him as the dam collapsed. “Cassian, how could I have been so stupid?” I sobbed uncontrollably.
Cassian slowly brought us to the floor and began stroking my hair, “You are not stupid, Princess,” He kissed my brow. “You didn’t know, your innocence and your kindness were taken advantage of and exploited.”
I whimpered, “I just wanted to be loved and cared for by someone.”
“I know you did.” Cassian cooed and he softly rocked me as my broken sobs escaped my lips. “I’m here, sweetheart, let it out.” He held me and whispered sweet things in my ear and peppered my head with kisses. I lifted my head to look into his eyes. He swiped hair from my face but didn’t loosen his grip on me. “What do you need, Y/N?”
I looked at him and grazed my fingers against his jaw, “I don’t know.”
He gave me a soft smile, “How about I braid your hair and we’ll go from there.”
I returned a small smile, and he moved us where I was positioned in between his legs as he sat on the couch. He ran his hands through my hair and with great tenderness, he began to plait my hair. We were silent for a few moments. I let my eyes close as he tugged my hair to manipulate it to how he wanted. “When did you learn to braid hair?”
“When I was young, I let my hair grow and was frustrated when it would get in my face. My mother showed me how to arrange it where my hair wouldn’t get in my way.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “She let me practice on her hair all the time. Was so proud when I mastered it.”
“That sounds lovely. Where is she now?”
Cassian’s fingers paused, and he cleared his throat, “She died. A long time ago.”
“Cassian I’m-“
“I am about ready to remove ‘I’m sorry’ out of your vocabulary.” I bit my lip as he continued braiding. “You have nothing to be apologizing for, not one thing. I know humans give condolences for when a loved one dies but it’s been over 400 years. You also do not need to feel guilty or shame for what happened to you, Baby.” He kissed my temple.
“How is it you know where my thoughts are leading me before I do?” ‘
He tied off the bottom of the braid. “I don’t. I do know that you take on the burden that you are the cause of all the pain you have in your life.” He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close to his chest, “Is this, okay?”
“Yes,” I murmured leaning my head onto his arm.
“What can I do to help you?”
“Can you just hold me?” I asked.
Cassian slid down to sit against the floor with me. He leaned my body against his chest, he grabbed the wool blanket from the arm of the chair and wrapped it around us. My Head moved from his arm to his chest as his arms enveloped me in a warm embrace. He began to hum it lulled me until I was sound asleep in his arms.
The next morning, I awoke to the smell of breakfast I walked over to the kitchen with the blanket wrapped around me. Cassian looked over to me, “Morning, Sunshine, we have a busy day ahead if you’re up for it?” He handed me a plate with eggs and bacon and kissed my cheek.
I sat at the table near the window, “What is on the itinerary, General?” I began to eat and the burst of flavor that exploded in my mouth made me moan. “Please never stop cooking.”
Cassian laughed as he sat across from me, “Would you like to learn?”
I stopped mid bite, “To cook?” He nodded, “I would love that.”
Cassian gave me a toothy grin, “Alright, you and me dinner tonight.”
Butterflies fluttered in my stomach, “What about the rest of the day?”
Cassian swallowed, “If you’re up for training, we can go to one of the camps to do so maybe stop in the village for a bit. Does any of that sound good for you?”
I smiled, “That sounds lovely, Cassian.” We continued eating and I looked out through the window and looked out at the snow. “Wow.”
“You have never seen snow before?”
I took in the sights of the evergreen trees that held snow on the tops of them a bird circling for food. “I have, but for the first time I don’t have to worry about where my next meal would be. Or whatever sadistic game Xavier wanted to play. Though I, managed to leave right before we were in the heart of winter.” I looked at back at the general, “No, I don’t want to talk about it right now.”
Cassian stood up and grabbed our plates, “Go get dressed.” He pressed his forehead to mine, “You are a strong woman, Princess and I am so proud of you.”
I reached up and kissed his nose, “Thanks, Cassie.”
He placed the dishes in the sink as I made my way to the room to change into my leathers. Once we had both changed, he picked me up and flew us out to the training camp. There were cabins lined up all along the camp and there was a center where there were various places for the soldiers to train. Once we landed Cassian set me down his hazel eyes gazing across the camp and he growled, “What’s wrong?”
Cassian’s jaw flexed, “None of the women are out here training.”
I furrowed my brow, “Are they supposed to?”
“They are supposed to have the choice to do so.”
Before I could respond a male approached us, he was not nearly as tall as Cassian, but his wings were flared out. “General, what brings you to our humble camp.”
“I am training one of the Human twins who saved Prythian.” Cassian’s wings flared in response and his wing curved around me and blocked the winter wind. He looked to me, “Y/N, meet Lord Devlon, he is in charge of Windhaven.”
“Ah couldn’t be bothered to bring the one that was turned high fae. I mean its insulting to have a female here in leathers anyway. But you bring human filth here.”
I leaned closer to Devlon and sniffed the air. “Interesting?”
Lord Devlon sneered, “What is?”
I gave him a saccharine smile, “I smell a mediocre male, with a complex. May want to get that checked out.” Devlon’s face turned red with anger as Cassian guided me to the training ring before the Lord could retort anything.
As we walked to the training ring there was a solider who spat at Cassian’s boot, “Dirty, Bastard.”
I paused slipped out of Cassian’s grasp and walked toward the soldier, “Excuse me.” The male turned to me tucking his wings tightly, “Is it standard practice to insult your superior officer?”
He snorted, “He’s barely a General, he is a low born bastard th-“ I wound my hand back and punched the soldier in the nose.
“Have some respect on your superior officer and be grateful he has an easier temperament than mine.” I was about to walk away and then I turned back, “Also, your Cassian’s soldier, you should of saw that hit from a mile away.”
The male wiped the blood from his nose, “You filthy human whore.”
Rage bubbled to the surface, and I was about to lunge forward when I was hoisted up and thrown over Cassian’s shoulder. “You’re trouble.” Cassian chuckled.
“They shouldn’t treat you like that. It’s not right.” Cassian remained silent as he put you down, “You deserve respect, Cassian.”
Cassian’s eyes turned glassy, and he cracked his neck and cleared his throat, “Alright, Trouble, now that you have managed to cause a stir in the camps in the first five minutes of being here, get in first position I am going to have push you hard, make an example out of you.” Cassian smirked.
I beamed at him and got into my fighting stance. “Do your worst, General.”
For an hour Cassian did just as he promised. He pushed me hard focusing on my combos and I began to swing my fist that Cassian was quick to dodged and pinned me down.
I ran down the hallway trying to hide from Xavier. He wanted to play a game of hide and seek.
“Gotcha,” Xavier grabbed me and pinned me against him tightly. He nibbled my ear as he slammed against the cold brick. “So delicious for me.” He smacked my ass and I whimpered, what was once enjoyment made me feel vile and simply someone he could use.
Get Off
Get Off
Get Off.
“Get off,” I screamed as Cassian released me and I fell to the ground the snow-covered ground keeping me present. My breathing quickened as my pulse pounded in my ears. “Inhale, Y/N.” Cassian knelt beside me I did, “Good, now let it out.” I exhaled and I closed my eyes focusing on his voice. “We’re done for today.”
“Okay.” I whispered.
“You did well. I think that is cause for celebration.” I looked at him and quirked my brow, “How bout we go flying?”
Xavier’s POV
After two days I had finally reached the blasted wall. Stepping through the magical barrier that separated our lands from the land of the Fae. I took a steadying breath and stepped in and grabbed my bow and arrow ready in case of an impending attack. I remained vigilant as the scenery began to shift, into spring which wasn’t due for another few months. My brow furrowed, The Spring court then. I was about to reach a clearing when there was a giggle to my left.
Wasting no time, I drew my weapon to the sound and found a female in blue robes, her blond hair cascading down to her amble breast, her hood laid atop of her head along with a jeweled circlet. “You are far from home, sir.” She purred slowly walking toward me.
“I am here to retrieve the love of my life. She was taken.” I steeled my spine ready for her to pounce.
“Ah care to whisk her away back to your lands?” She got close to where her blue eyes had a gleam on them, she was a beautiful creature.
I lowered my weapon slightly, “Actually, I had another plan in mind. I need the King of Hybern’s help.”
Her grin turned sinister, “You have come to the right place then, I am Ianthe, High Priestess of the Spring Court. I also am a subject for the King. Now tell me who was the woman that was stolen from you.”
I put away my weapon and extended my hand. “I am Xavier, and I’m looking for Y/N Archeron.”
Reader’s POV
I looked down at the edge of the mountain Cassian brought us to. “I’m not sure about this, Cass.”
“Princess, you have flown with me before. I am not going to let anything happen to you.” Cassian leaned against me to speak over the howling wind.
“Well, I’ve never looked down the side of a mountain before.” I pressed against him.
“I’m going to grab your hips to get you in the position, is that okay?” I nodded and his hands pressed down onto my hips, and he shuffled me in front of him. He wrapped his arms protectively around my torso and my heart pounded. “If you want to be put down, just tap my hand three times.”
“Okay, I am ready.” I took a deep breath and as I exhaled Cassian pressed forward and we took to the skies, my eyes instantly shut. As we are in the air Cassian hooks his feet around mine to keep my legs straight like his. Cassian used his siphons to block some of the wind. He pressed his head close to mine, “Go on, Princess, Open your eyes.”
I opened my eyes, and the sun was glinting over the snow-capped mountains, and against the tress. The river running through the forest was sparkling and I could see an elk family running through the forest. I would ask Feyre to paint this if she ever decided to paint again.
The wind that broke through Cassian’s barrier kissed my cheeks and somehow the emotion became overwhelming. I released my grip on Cassian’s arms and spread them out like his wings and let out a whoop of joy. Cassian laughed and I joined him, and he banked left, and I let the wind fill my lungs. “Do you trust me?”
I nodded to him, “Yes I do.”
“I’m going to let you go.” My pulse sped up and I nodded. “On the count of three. One. Two. Three.” He let me go and I began to free fall.
I closed my eyes and smiled as the wind wrapped me in a cold cocoon. Everything that has happened in the last few months, and all my fears and worries ebbed away. Tears began to slide down my cheeks and strong arms enveloped me, and Leather and Sandalwood took over my senses. I wrapped my arms around his neck, “How was that?” He whispered.
I met his honey flecked eyes, “Freeing.” I looked at his mouth and back at his gaze, and I leaned in and kissed him.
Later that evening I changed into a black over sized sweater shorts underneath and the red thigh high socks and came down to see that Cassian had ingredients for a stew on the table. He looked up and smirked at the color selection. “Well, don’t you look like a vision.” My hair is a loose bun.
I rolled my eyes, “Hush, this is comfortable.”
Cassian motioned his finger for me to come closer. I made my way over to him and he smiled, “We are making soup today.”
“Perfect, where do we start, General.”
He opened his mouth to begin his instructions when there was a knock on the door. Cassian had a confused look as he opened the door. A young male whispered in Cassian’s ear and I watched the color drained from Cassian’s face. Cassian turned to me, “I’m sorry Princess, I need to go to the camps.” He closed the space between us and pulled me in for a kiss. “I will be back as soon as I can.” He kissed my forehead and then he was out the door. Leaving me to put the ingredients for dinner away.
Cassian’s POV
I landed in the camp and the metallic scent of blood filled my nostrils. The soldiers parted ways as my siphons blazed. I stepped into the tent to the whimpering girl, and the men towering over her. “Step. Away. From. Her. Now.” The men all froze but slowly backed away.
I knelt to the small female, “Hey, beautiful.” I whispered, as the litter girl met my eyes, her green eyes glistened with tears cascading down her tanned skin. “Tell me where it hurts.”
“Everywhere, General.” She hiccuped.
I level her a warm smile, “None of that General, nonsense. I’m Cassian.” I think on what Y/N called me the night before, “You can call me Cassie though.”
She sniffled, “I’m Grace.”
I smiled, “Grace is a beautiful name, I have to get you to a healer, is it alright if I pick you up.” She nodded and I lifted her up cautiously to not disturb her shredded wings and she held onto my neck tightly. “Please note that the consequences for this will be doled out first thing in the morning at formation. Understood.”
The group of males muttered, “Yes, General.”
With that I took the child to the healer and held her hand as the healer tried to mend her wings. “Cassie?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Is it true you brought a human girl here?” the girl asked with a gleam in her eyes, filled with wonder.
“I did. Her name is Y/N.” I smiled.
“Could I meet her before you head home?”
“I think she would love to meet a warrior as strong as you.” I winked at her, and she giggled. The healer gave her a tonic that helped her fall asleep. “I was too late, wasn’t I? I asked the healer once the girl fell into a deep slumber.
The healer nodded, “Not by much, but the damage was already beginning to mend them useless. Unless I re-open her wounds there is nothing to be done.” The healer put her hand on my shoulder, “You did what you could, General. Go home. We’ll be here in the morning.” I nodded. I held the girl’s hands for a few more moments after the healer stepped away before I went home guilt consuming my body.
When I walked in, the warm glow of the fire greeted me along with Y/N’s scent of Jasmine, Vanilla, with a hint of Lilac. I walked over to see she was curled with a book in her hand. She looked up at the sound of my boots and frowned when she saw my hands. Putting the book down she sat up from the couch and moved towards me. “Are you hurt?”
I shook my head, and she looked through me as if she could see what was eating up at my core. “Come General,” She gripped my bloody hand. “Let me take care of you for a change.”
I let her lead me to the bathroom and she ordered me to strip as she began running a bath. I obeyed blindly and placed myself in the tub making sure that my wings were not getting caught. The warm water seep into my sore bones and I released a groan. “I need you to dunk your head for me,” her voice soothed the ache in my chest, and I dunk my head in the water.
I lifted my head back up and Y/N began to massage my scalp with soap. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked as she cleaned my hair.
Sighing I mutter, “Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow, dunk your head in for me, Darling.” I did so again for her, and she was about to grab a rag from the other side of the bathroom when I gripped her wrist. “Join me.”
“Cassie,” she started but I interrupted her.
“Princess. Please.” I looked up at her and whatever she saw in my face had her complying. She stripped the sweater, shorts, and socks she wore, and I grabbed her hand as she stepped into the tub. She was trying to turn to where her back would be to me, and I stopped her. Without needing words, she understood what I wanted but she still grabbed the rag and soap.
I gripped her bare hip on my fingers as she washes my chest. I watched her as she focused on the task she was doing. Her eyes gaze up to my wings. “Can I wash your wings?” She asked.
I nodded, “Just be gentle they are sensitive.” She took the rag and using my chest as leverage she reverently washed my wings. I guided her through which parts were more sensitive for her to avoid and she listened, making sure I was always comfortable. She moved to the other wing, and I wrapped my arm around her waist pressing her breast against my chest. I kissed her collar bone, “Thank you, Princess.”
She hummed in response and continued washing my wings. When she finished, she lowered herself and she focused on washing the blood off my hands and proceeding to massage my palms as she went along. “I don’t need to know the details of what happened to know that this wasn’t your fault. She looked up at me with her gorgeous eyes and I cupped her cheek.
“How do you know where my thoughts are leading me before I do?” I asked, quirking my brow.
She rolled her eyes and pressed her lips to mine, “You think similarly to me.”
“Kiss me again.” She smiled and did just that.
Xavier POV
The High Lord of the Spring Court was not what I anticipated, his hair was disheveled, and his eyes held a vacancy that made a shiver run down my spine. He sat on his throne as if his mind was far away. His red-haired emissary was scouring the lands for his soon to be bride. “When is she getting here?” I glared patience waning thin.
Ianthe squeezed my bicep, “Relax, she needed a few days to get here and make sure she could sneak away undetected.
The doors opened and a figure in a dark cloak approached the red silk of the female’s dress peaked through as did the blonde tips of her hair. She lowered her hood and her brown eyes gleamed with mischief, “So I hear you’re looking for Y/N Archeron.”
I gulped, “I am.”
“Well, let’s not waste any time, my name is Morrigan, you may call me Mor. Let’s begin, shall we?” I grinned and looked back at the high lord who kept his expression blank his eyes distant as if he could see his bride in the tree line.
Chapter 12
Story Tags: @hellodarling1357 @hnyclover @waytoomanyteenagefeels @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @esposadomd @sleepylunarwolf @stressed-reader @kylaisra @marvelouslovely-barnes @magicstrengthandcourage @spideytingley @awkardnerd @donttellthecats @tastydewdrops @vermillionwinter @asweetblueberry2 @bunnyredgirl @homeslices @azriels-mate2 @oksloan3 @wallacewillow0773638 @fandom-crashlanding @writingstreetspirit @hannzoaks @minnieloo @tuggboatfishin @judig92 @atrxidxs @dustyinkpages @secretlyhers @mxblobby @blogforficslol @historygeekqueen @turtleshavesoulmates @scooobies @anuttellaa @earth-to-lottie @slytherintaco @fxckmiup @tinystarfishgalaxy @cheesebookgirl @oucereeng @st0rmyt @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @misslunatic1655 @azrielsmate3 @nebarious @tele86 @chelsiemp @fightmedraco @blackgirlmagicforever @fullmoon-94 @thehighlordishere @jenniferpendragon @ray4hotchner @phoenix666stuff @misskennygirl @whitewolfsbitch @highladyivy @tenaciousperfectionunknown @packsvlog @heyyhelloohii @parabatai-winchester @julesofvolterra @lilah-asteria @lyanna133
If you see your user but didn't get a notification Tumblr won't let me tag you :(
#cassian x reader#cassian acotar#acotar#acotar fanfiction#cassian x you#cassian imagine#cassian fanfic#cassian fluff#cassian angst#archeron sisters
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" Welcome to Night Raven College's "Ghostly Gossip"! The school's unofficial main online source for the latest news, articles and trending topics circulating around campus! "
" A new ghoul here, are you? Well then, don't worry. Let this blog be your guide from the hallways to the catacombs! I'll let you in for some personal notes and tips to gurantee your high school survival, so don't you get lost on me now! "
There are plenty of monster students yet to be introduced to you, but for today let's start with...
Navigation (to be linked) :
R. Rosehearts - T. Clover - C. Diamond - A. Trappola - D. Spade - L. Kingscholar - R. Bucchi - J. Howl - A. Ashengrotto - J. Leech - F. Leech - K. Al Asim - J. Viper - V. Schoenheit - R. Hunt - E. Felmier - I. Shroud - O. Shroud - M. Draconia - L. Vanrouge - S. Zigvolt - Silver
(Messy) Design notes:
Give me strength to complete this project with every character. Just Jamil's took me days because I kept getting stuck with that first scraped design ⚰️ of course I had to start with him since AHEM AHEM I hate him sm (lying)
The only thing I forgor to add in the pic above is that the reason I made his hair half green/blue/(?) Is bcs I wanted something to contrast with the red clothes. For the first half of the process I thought his color pallette was too boring in general, so I slapped a gradient over his Rapunzel hair and called it a day tbh 💪
I'm still not 100% sure if I nailed it the way I originally wanted to, buy hey, It's a start. Can't let my perfectionism hold be back and keep me from sharing my art til the end of times. So here it is. First entry. I'm posting this at 22:20 right after I got home from class so I hope my exhaustion didn't sneak in some typos in the post 😫😫 oh and by the way the snake names were all ideas I asked for on my instagram stories. I absolutely love Steve. The person who sent the idea said that it was Kalim who named it that way and I can totally see it happening
But in a final note, I wanted a cooler layout for me to post the series, so I took the name Ghostly Gossip from Spectra's original name for her blog before it became The Gory Gazette, I believe? I'm having fun with this idea that everyone would be introduced by a in-universe blog post just like the original monster high website used to do. So I'm creating a tag for the navigation purposes too! At #.the ghostly gossip hehe, but that's kinda all! Um,, stay tuned? (Runs away)
#.the ghostly gossip#twst#my art#twisted wonderland#twst fanart#monster high#jamil viper#scarabia#monster high fanart
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Hi there!ever since I saw you when I first installed tumblr it just keeps getting better. I was wondering if you can write something about a hero being the sucess of a lab and the villain being a failure(Bonus if the lab is actually evil) Don't feel pressured to do this though😗
"Do you know why I'm considered the success, instead of the failure like you?" the hero asked.
The villain sneered at them. They yanked and thrashed and struggled against the shimmering containment that wrapped around them, warping like a net from the hero's outstretched fingers, forcing them down against the cold concrete.
"Because you're a good, obedient little hero?"
The hero couldn't keep the damn trap up forever!
"Yes."
The simple response, the tone, startled the villain enough that they went temporarily still. Maybe that was the ploy. They stared at the hero through the hazy sheen of their powers, mockery draining from their face, panting for breath.
The hero had many things that the villain didn't: a body that wasn't screwed up, powers that weren't prone to out-of-control devastation, a generally sweet and more palatable disposition when it came to public relations.
And, of course, they did what they were told. The villain had never properly thought about that.
"It was their most important addition, after you...you know," the hero said, studying them. "The ability to control their experiments. To make sure that nothing like you would happen again."
A bad taste slowly flooded the villain's mouth. They shook their head.
The hero stepped forward, crouching down in front of the villain, on the other side of the containment wall. Up close, the villain got a good look at the vein snaking up the hero's wrist. The blood was just slightly the wrong colour; it made them look gorgeously healthy, radiant, compared to the sickly pallor the villain couldn't quite shake.
"If I stop taking the serum for my powers, I die," the hero said, keeping their voice light. "Quite horribly. But while the serum is in my system, I'm not in control. Not really. Everything I do is monitored. If I stray too far out..." The hero grimaced.
"Why are you telling me this?" the villain whispered.
"Because I can't do anything about it. I can't do anything about them. I signed up to do something good, to make the world better, and I..." The hero squeezed their eyes shut. "Well. I'm going to try and drag you back to them, aren't I? I'm going to hand you over to the people who hurt you, and then I'm going to make a speech telling everyone what a terrible, awful monster you are as if they don't deserve everything you give them. I'll smile while I'm doing it too."
The villain swallowed. They strained to press a hand up against the wall, but it only forced them back down against the ground harder. The villain's breath knocked out of them.
The hero winced. "Sorry."
"Isn't it better to be dead?"
"You didn't think so when you ran."
No. Maybe that had been an unfair question to ask. Still, the fury and the helplessness of it seared through the villain because ShieldCorp - they were going to get away with it. All of the others were dead! Even if they managed to expose what was really happening, ShieldCorp had the hero.
"I wanted to do something good too," the villain said, hollow. "It's not your fault they took advantage of that."
The hero shrugged. Their hand stayed perfectly steady.
"Are they listening to us now?"
"Probably."
"They'll be angry with you."
"Maybe. Maybe not. Me telling you this doesn't change anything, does it?"
"I thought you were like them. I hated you. It changes that."
The hero smiled, or something like it. It was too fragile, too wobbly, too shattered a thing compared to the beautiful thing they tossed out to the masses at every public appearance.
"I want to destroy them," the hero said. "But, when I let this force field drop so I can take you in properly, I'm going to need your help to do that. How are your powers feeling today?"
"Like I'm going to burn down the world."
The hero nodded, just once, and rose again. Silhouetted against the skyline, they looked unstoppable.
"Excellent," the hero said. "On the count of three, start with me."
The villain was ready when the containment dropped.
ShieldCorp was not.
#heroes and villains#villains and heroes#lab experiment#writing#ficlet#short story#fic#writeblr#writing snippet#story snippet#villains#heroes
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