#lord I'm losing my fucking mind
Text
I'm losing my mind with all the flowerfang fics
#some of them are SO FUCKING GOOD#lord I'm losing my fucking mind#got me screaming crying and throwing up in the club#flowerfang
68 notes
·
View notes
Text
whenever i make plans in my head (that i don’t tell anyone about) it fucks me up so severely i am unable to function srsly
#my plan for tonight was to sleep alone in the living room but now we have guests sleeping there and its driving me MAD#i don’t even know what’s wrong with me i’m so BUMMED!!!!!#when i plan to stay home all day and my mother wants me to go out for an hour it fucks me up so severely omg#you need to tell me shit like a day or two in advance so i don’t lose my mind from the upset#if its major like a friend hangout i need a week's advance to prepare for the horrors#i'm telling u i'm so frustrated rn i think its just my period but in general i HATE having guests over...!!!!!!#only because we're in the philippines and the only guests we're having are our rude + Super Inconsiderate & Noisy relatives#the guests we have rn.. they're okay but Super touchy and I Don't Like Touchy#💭#negative#cw rant#lord this is so stupid
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
I am not going to lie— the biggest reason why I am still in the Warrior Nun fandom, aside from Thekla and Sylvia, is because I have a huge crush on someone within the fandom. I am not just talking about "casual crush" where you smile when she passes by on my dashboard, or where I have a crush on her because I've seen her face and she's pretty. I am, honest to God and Jillian Salvius, crushing on this woman hard.
I have a huge crush on her because she's so intelligent, and eloquent, and deep; I can drown in her. For the past months, I've been trying to identify my problems and habits when it comes to romantic love (non-existent) so I will be ready when the best woman for me actually comes. I'm still in the process of shadow work but, damn, I want to drown in her. I want to listen to what she thinks of the world, of the news, of the weather; I want her to hear mine, too. (And I do have a lot of opinions on a lot of things.) I want to know her habits, and routine if she has one. I do not even care how she looks, where she lives, but I want to know how her brain works. I just... want to know her. No matter how deep she wants us to go. But I know this is hopeless.
I do not even know her intimately, FFS. (Although that could be debated since I have read all her works and am familiar with her writing style and choice of words; this is another kind of intimacy, I think.) I am just so, so impressed and taken by her. I know it is frangible, this attraction to the idea of her, but she is solely the reason why I am writing almost every night again.
I thought I was done with joining a fandom and writing for it because of something that happened years ago. Apparently not, because, well, I just found a new muse.
#Libra Venus and their problem of falling in love with potential#this lesbian is having girl problems when she does not even have one#give mercy to this poor lesbian's heart#this screams I AM SOOOO STEREOTYPICAL LESBIAN#oh shit I just realized I am like Anna from Frozen#who tf wants to marry a (wo)man she just met#but in this case it is worse because we do not even know each other THAT deeply#Lord have mercy on us or something#I am losing my mind over here#if y'all know who she is no you do not#if you know who you are please know that someone over here (me) admires you so much#I even manifested to the Universe for you to have the good and exciting love you deserve because I do not know if you are single or not#see how bad that was guys? I told you I'm hopeless... HOPELESS#I am so fucked but here we are
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
I can’t write. Can’t draw. Can’t eat today. Can barely move.
#trying to tell myself this is something that will pass. tomorrow i will probably be able to do all of these.#because if i don't tell myself that then i'm going to spiral and start to lose my mind again.#thinking a lot about...... bad things. like god and the universe and stigmata for some reason. i haven't wanted to self-harm in years.#and i will not. but still it's very distracting and idk what to do with myself right now.#lord of the rings maybe? that might help?#freaks me the hell out that this seems to happen to me so easily now. like more and more if i'm faced with a stressful event--#--i start to sort of slip. like i feel despair and then i get these ideas about reality and the universe and higher power.#never going to forget that time i believed i wasn't meant to be born and i was instead a cosmic mistake. that was a scary time--#--for everyone who cared about me.#i don't even have issues with psychosis i think it's just extreme stress. i did used to have a LOT of derealization 'spells'#so hmm. very very worried about this upcoming school year and what it means for my mental health#but who the fuck can afford therapy and fuck-knows how long the wait lists are for psychiatrists.
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
Local guy goes through it, impulsively decides he needs to dye his hair black as a statement, accidentally becomes an Alfonse Fire Emblem kinnie in the process but ultimately embraces it bc it's funny as hell
#I'M . SO. LMFAOOO IT'S SO SILLY BUT IT'S SO FUNNY TO ME#like i picked up this black dye that supposedly would be kinda shiny maybe have purple undertones#it def is advertised to look black though like. just fancier i guess and i love fancy#it ended up being. fire emblem lord navy blue LMFAOOOOOOO#and ofc my hair was blonde before! blonde/brown split but the brown was so faded it might as well been blonde too#so i. wanted to see. if i separated my bangs just right. if i could preserve some of the blonde.#and holy fucking shit it worked. i am literally alfonse fire emblem if he had like 70% more mullet#losing my mind over this. wanted to go emo/punk ended up becoming blorbo. insane.
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
TUMBLR EXPLAIN YOURSELF
1 note
·
View note
Note
I am now curious what would alpha sukuna do when he get his rut but yuji simply won’t allow him to take control of his body? Sukuna as normal is feral and menace what about sukuna in his rut..but trapped.
Oh good lord. I'm having THOUGHTS.
Pairing: Alpha!Ryomen Sukuna x Omega Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, omegaverse, alpha/omega, rut, knotting, clit stimulation, mating bites, rough sex, feral sex, breeding kink, protective!Yuuji, best friend!Yuuji, alpha!Sukuna, double dick!Sukuna
Word count: 0.9k
A/N: Thinking about best friend Yuuji cockblocking Sukuna was hilarious.
Yuuji was your best friend and an alpha. But he would never make a move on you, he didn't want to put your friendship at risk and even when you were in heat you knew you were safe around him. Lately though he's been a lot more... well... angry might be the best way to put it. He wasn't snapping at you, but at Sukuna, who would occasionally break free and rile you up just by staring at you before Yuuji could cage him back into his mind.
It seems that he's been losing that battle lately. Every time when Sukuna would kiss you or start to take your clothes off Yuuji would intervene and put a stop to it. As your friend he was only looking out for you, he knew what kind of alpha Sukuna was. Yet it was mildly annoying to and left you with an even worse ache between your legs.
He never made a move to help you out, knowing that was a friendship boundary he couldn't cross. But Sukuna could, he didn't even see you as a friend. To Sukuna you were just another omega in heat. When he finally broke free of Yuuji's hold, even just for a night he visited you immediately. He didn't want to waste time, knowing full well that it was borrowed.
Good thing you were already so wet, it made it easy to slide one of his cocks into your pussy and fuck you like you needed to be fucked. Sukuna was unlike any alpha you've been with, he was beyond animalistic, beyond feral from being kept caged for so long. The years without a vessel, and now held back by it.
You could hear Sukuna talking, but it wasn't you he was talking to, you were just the one he was fucking. "Thought you could keep me from my pretty omega huh brat? Come on, you should have known better. She wanted me from the moment she saw me." Sukuna grinned down at you and pulled your body taunt by your wrists, keeping you pressed against him while his cock pistoned in and out of your clenching pussy. "Keep complaining all you want, we both know what she really wants."
"Sukuna, I-" All breath was knocked out of your lungs when he rushed to bite your neck. It wasn't hard enough to put a real mark there but for a split second you thought he might. "Yes." You told him even before he asked.
"Heh, told you so. She wants it. Don't you pretty girl? Are you gonna let me knot your cunt?" You nodded quickly, not trusting your voice. "Fuck. I can't do it if you're so tight. But I like the challenge, I'll fuck my knot into you, even if I have to break you in the process."
His threat made a flood of wetness coat his cock. You were already half-way gone for him.
Sukuna pushed his second cock across your clit, "Told you she wants it. She wants my cock, my knot, she wants to be... mine. Don't like that huh Yuuji? This pretty omega sure does. I can tell she wants it. Look at how much she wants me to breed her full of my seed."
You almost didn't want to look at him in the eye, ashamed for how Yuuji would react when he returned to his body. But Sukuna wasn't gonna let you get away with that act. He smiled at you as you hissed in pain when his third hand gripped into your hair and his fourth grabbed your chin, making it impossible not to look into his eyes.
His hips pushed flush against yours, your moans encouraging him to ram his thick cock into you, carving the shape of it into your inner walls. "You're taking it so well. An omega bitch in heat, made just for my cock." With his fast paced thrusts also came the equally fast smacks of his second cock against your sensitive clit, making your hips jerk upwards.
The spicy aggressive scent of him was driving you mad. Just the fact that his own rut got triggered by being around you when you were in heat made your cunt spasm around his cock, adding to the slippery wetness, making it easy for his knot to slip inside you. "Your knot, god..."
"Hurts?" He asked with equal parts worry and smugness.
"It's big but it feels good. I want your cum too! Please Sukuna, come inside me." The previous sense of shame you felt was gone when you felt the knot on his second cock brushing against your cunt. You couldn't take two at once but that didn't mean he couldn't switch. "I want the other one too."
"Do you? Naughty little omega. Let's see how you handle one first. Are you ready for me to give you my cum?" You nodded and let your cunt spasm around him, clamping down around his cock, your toes curling and voice on the verge of giving out as his thrusts turned short and quick. His cum splashed inside of you, safely locked inside by his knot. "Don't you dare bite my neck." He could feel your teeth grazing him. You whimpered in protest, and he seemingly had mercy.
But it wasn't his neck, it was his hand that met your teeth. Enough for now.
"So needy." He laughed at you as he pulled his hand away and kissed the bite mark you left behind. "My knots take a bit of extra time so you enjoy it while you can. As soon as it goes down I'm putting the next one into you. I'm gonna make sure to knock you up tonight." He looked behind him while snickering, and you could almost hear Yuuji's voice, cursing at him.
#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#sukuna x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk smut#sukuna smut#jujutsu kaisen headcanons#jjk headcanons#sukuna headcanons#jujutsu kaisen imagine#jjk imagine#sukuna imagine#jujutsu kaisen x female reader#jjk x female reader
5K notes
·
View notes
Note
As someone who learnt english as a second language via textbook, I have to say "flying by the seat of my pants" is a hilarious idiom xD
It's the first time I've seen/heard it.
Could you share another one you like using?
Idk about idioms specifically, but there's a bunch of phrases I learned from my mom!
Lord love a duck! (Incredulous, like 'oh my god')
Lord suffer in sheep dip! (Sheep dip meaning sheep poop. Incredulous, but for annoying things- like 'are you kidding me?')
Is there a piano tied to your ass? ('Don't be lazy, do it yourself')
Someone's cruising for a bruising. (You're picking a fight.)
I don't give a rat's rip. ('I don't care'- a rat's 'rip' is it's butt crack.)
Pull up a stump! (Get yourself a chair, sit down.)
Everybody out of the pool! (Get out of the car)
I'm flying by the seat of my pants. (I have no idea what I'm doing, but I'm doing it.)
Don't go blowing smoke up my ass. (Don't over-compliment me, don't flatter me, don't stroke my ego, don't tell me positive lies)
Looks like it's gonna rain on our parade. (A storm is coming.)
Sorry to rain on your parade. (I've given you bad news- can be used sincerely or sarcastically to denote sympathy for incurring a bad mood.)
Better button that lip. (Stop talking.)
Someone's gonna stick a boot up your ass. ('Stick a boot up your ass'- fight you, beat you, kick your ass.)
Stick that lip out any further, and a pigeon'll shit on it. (Stop whining.)
Suck it up, buttercup. (Stop whining.)
Dumber than a fence post. (Very stupid.)
The back forty. (The wild or forested area behind a rural home. The 'forty' being forty acres, or farmland.)
Don't go begging for a fat lip. (Whatever you're saying or doing is going to bother people and get you in trouble.)
What on God's green earth (What the fuck)
I'm sweating like a pig in a porta-potty (like a pig in a plastic outhouse- I'm very warm, it's hot here)
He thinks the universe flew out of his ass. (He thinks he's more impressive than he is.)
Your mouth wrote a cheque your ass couldn't cash. (You promised more than you were capable of providing.)
You've got a horseshoe up your ass. (You're very, very lucky.)
Taking a dirt nap. (Dead.)
Pushing (up) daisies. (Dead.)
Give me forty acres to turn this rig around. (I need time and space to move this large, heavy, or unwieldy thing. Usually about navigating a vehicle. Taken from a song lyric.)
Jesus take the wheel. (God help me, I can't handle this, I give up.)
Gone belly-up. (Has died.)
We've got a floater. (This one is dead.)
Herding cats. (Trying to organize chaos, managing an impossibly complicated situation.)
I've got a black thumb. (I am bad at growing plants, all my plants die- reference to having a 'green thumb', or being good at growing plants.)
Stop trackin' floor cookies. (Floor cookies are bits of animal shit that fall off your work boots- 'tracking floor cookies' means wearing your boots in the house; take your shoes off at the door.)
Running around like a headless chicken. (Frantic, disorganized, stressed out by many tasks or panicked by a big situation.)
Spinning my wheels. (Waiting around for something to happen, getting nowhere, frustrated by inactivity, not making any progress towards a goal.)
He's gonna blow a gasket. (He's going to lose his temper, he's going to be angry.)
They'll tan your hide. (They'll punish you severely; usually through violence. Specifically in reference to a spanking.)
He's a few bricks short a load. (He's not clever / he doesn't think things through / he's crazy)
Not the sharpest tool in the shed. (Not the smartest person. Very dumb, clumsy, or absent-minded.)
I'm not going to bail you out. (Not going to save your sinking boat- not going to help you out of your bad situation.)
Looks like things are going south. (The situation is growing worse.)
I'll start making tracks. (I'll leave now, I'll start working, I'll get going.)
He's fucking the dog. (He's not being productive, he's doing a bad job, he's made things worse, he's screwing around.)
He's making puppies. (Less graphic version of 'fucking the dog'.)
Plant your ass. (Sit.)
Playing grab-ass. (Procrastinating- accomplishing nothing, slowing people down.)
He couldn't find his ass in the dark. (He's stupid, ineffective, underqualified, or incompetent.)
He couldn't pour water out of a boot if the instructions were on the heel. (He is unbelievably, comically dumb or ineffective. He can't do anything right.)
One foot in the ground. (Dying, or half-dead.)
I'm kicking rocks. (I'm not doing anything productive.)
I'm hauling ass. (I'm running away.)
Madder than a wet hen. (Very, very angry.)
Like I said I'm not sure that these are all idioms but they're all the phrases and sayings from my childhood that I can remember right now
EDIT: Cannot BELIEVE I forgot my mom's favourite
52. Wish in one hand, shit in the other, see which gets filled first. (Wishes don't come true by themselves)
Plus some more I forgot:
53. You make a better door than a window. (You're in the way of my view.)
54. You can take a long walk off a short pier. (Go fuck yourself.)
55. He's about as sharp as a bowling ball. (He's stupid.)
56. Scoot your poot. (Move over.)
57. Not my first rodeo. (I know what I'm doing.)
58. He's built like a brick shithouse. (He's broad and sturdy and very strong, solid.)
59. I smell bacon. (I saw a cop nearby.)
60. I don't want to hear a peep. (Stop talking.)
61. You're thinking with the wrong head. (You're making bad decisions because you're horny.)
62. I'd lose my ass/head if it wasn't tied on. (I'm very absent-minded, forgetful.)
63. That went down like a lead balloon. (That situation was bad.)
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Good People
Part One🦇Part Two🦇Final Part
Wayne knows eavesdropping isn't the done thing. He's definitely old enough to know better, and he wasn't going to. He had a plan. He was going to walk directly into the living room, so they'd know he was awake, and after he'd fixed his cup of coffee, he'd plopped into his perfectly worn in recliner and subtly glare at the Harrington boy until he squirmed.
Mostly because it amused Wayne, but also just a little sliver of it was because he wanted the Harrington boy to know Wayne didn't think he was good enough for his boy. But only a little! Lord knows that Wayne couldn't do anything to make Eddie change his mind about Steve Harrington, short of Harrington proving Wayne right. Which he doesn't actually want because he doesn't want Eddie hurt.
He's just... He expects it to happen. That's what boys like Harrington do to boys like Eddie. He's seen it enough times to know that this song and dance leave no room for improvisation. Boys like Harrington play around, get their kicks with the devotion Eddie shows them, and then when they've had their fill, they leave.
Boys like Harrington will never be good enough for Eddie, but they always leave with Eddie feeling like he's not enough. Wayne hates it.
Anyway, his plan wasn't to eavesdrop. It's just that Harrington said his name and Wayne found himself standing still instead of continuing.
"Why doesn't Wayne like me?" Harrington asks.
"This again?" Eddie says dismissively, which has Wayne agreeing. His opinion shouldn't have bearing on their friendship.
A deep sigh from Harrington before, "I just. It's- he means so much to you. And, like, I- nevermind. It's stupid. I'm stupid."
"Hey," Eddie sounds a type of serious that Wayne rarely hears from him, "you're not stupid. And you gotta quit fucking saying that. You say it enough and you'll start to believe it and it's not true."
"Hard to quit feeling stupid when people dismiss my concerns like they are stupid," Harrington snaps back, bitchy as can be. The tone makes Wayne bristle on behalf of Eddie. His boy doesn't reply immediately, though. Doesn't bite back like Wayne's used to hearing. Huh. Maybe he's growing up, just a little.
"You're right, Steve," Eddie says when he finally speaks. "That was dismissive. I'm sorry. Explain it to me. Why does it matter to you whether Wayne likes you or not?"
"Well, because he's your family."
"Yeah," Eddie agrees, "he is. But that doesn't explain why it matters. I don't care if your parents like me or not."
"That's different!"
"How?" Eddie asks, soft but firm.
"Because their opinion doesn't matter. It's not- It's irrelevant. What they think."
"That makes no sense. Wayne's opinion matters because he's my family, but your parents' opinion doesn't even though they're your family?"
"Yes!"
"But why?" Eddie presses.
"Because they're bad people!" Steve bursts, not quite shouting but close. "Because when bad people don't think highly of you, it's not a fault in you. Their disproval is, like, a compliment. They don't like you because you're too different from them. And that's great! You shouldn't want their approval. It's different, because your uncle is a good person. And when a good person doesn't like you, it is your fault. It's something- it's..." Harrington loses steam here, voice dropping low and defeated, "there's something wrong with me. Something in me that- that he just knows. Senses about me or whatever. Something wrong or rotten or-"
"Steve! That's bullshit. Sure, Wayne's been standoffish, but he'll come around. You're not wrong, or rotten, or whatever else you think you are."
"How do you know that? I was an asshole most of life and what if that's just the real me? What if that's who I'll always be deep down. 'Cause I'm trying so damn hard, man. I'm giving it my all trying to be a better person and it's not enough! Everyone still talks about who I was in high school and even you-" Harrington snaps his mouth closed so hard that Wayne hears the clack of his teeth from his position in the hallway. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to- I'm sorry."
"Steve. This is about more than just my uncle's opinion of you, isn't it?"
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."
"I want you, too. I want to know if I've ever done anything to make you feel like you aren't enough."
Wayne really shouldn't be listening. He should back down the hall and into his room. Give them time to talk.
"No, Eddie, you don't make me feel like- that's not what I meant. I just. I'm...."
"Hey, Stevie, you can tell me."
"I'm just so afraid that... That one day everyone will wake up and realize what Wayne already knows. That I'm not good enough for them. For you."
Oh. Wayne really shouldn't be listening.
"I'll admit that Wayne's opinion is important to me, for a lot of things. But not about you. What I feel about you, how I feel about you, isn't dictated by Wayne."
"Sure. I mean, I know that, like, logically or whatever. But it's. I can't convince my brain that you won't just. Hate me one day. And I- fuck, Eddie, I'm already halfway in love with you and-"
"You're in love with me?" Eddie interrupts, sounding awed, starstruck, and Wayne cannot be listening anymore. He backs down the hall silently and back into his room.
Steve Harrington seems to think that he's a good person, but he's not feeling like a good person at the moment.
He's got some thinking to do.
#steddie#my fic#wayne munson#eddie munson#steve harrington#wayne pov#wayne doesnt like steve and steve cannot accept that#not doing a readmore because its very short.
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
People who work on stuff that requires working in groups are so emotionally resilient. I've been doing this project with two classmates that I KNOW are responsible and serious and nonetheless my nerves almost gave in (okay scratch that, they totally gave in at some point) whenever something went wrong. I am too much of a perfectionist control freak to trust others with this type of split duties model.
#no cause we thought we had fixed the problem but then it wasn't fixed#and they weren't answering my messages (unfortunately they were probably eating dinner while i was losing my mind)#it sucked bc i needed their parts to be fixed so that i could be done with it al AT LAST#bc i was doing the very last step (a mockup)#and they were offline!! and i was stressing out bc the deadline is tomorrow AND I WANTED TO GO TO BED 😭!!!#and it's not their fault bc they thought the colours had been fixed! but turns out they were not completely fixed#i was crying. and it was not a figure of speech.#thank god the last bit of fixing was much easier than i thought it would be so i did it myself#but not before i sent like ten fucking messages all but begging them to resurface and fix it#my messages are literally 'we didn't fix it' 'please can you fix it' girls i will do it myself' 'girls i can't do it. can you do it pls'#'girls i found what's wrong' 'i fixed it all it's all done and over'#the messages on their own make me look INSANE and timestamps oh lord the timestamps. every five minute i was saying something different.#i can never come up with a solution to any stressful thing like a normal person istg i always have to have a panic attack beforehand#I'M GOING TO FUCKING BED#and probably have nightmares about colors and tiffs and psds and jpgs and pdfs and formats and layers hsagdasgdaksldg#me.txt
0 notes
Text
Listen, I know Dream winning his duel with Lucifer with hope is like... A BIG DEAL and super symbolic and beautiful, HOWEVER I have something that may not be better, but would definitely be FUNNIER.
Dream loses. He's been locked in a bubble and had his hopes dashed again and again, even though he's still fighting and still hopeful, it's harder for him to reach that and it doesn't come to mind in time for him to win against Lucifer. He's to stay as a servant in Hell and there's no Endless or divine being that can or will come to his aid. He's trapped. Again.
Only Matthew isn't Jessamy, Matthew knows when the best way to help is a tactical retreat to gather reinforcements. So that's what he does, going immediately to Luciene like, "Hey, so, uh..." And there has to be some way they can help him! Luciene makes it clear that none of the dreaming denizens can. None of the Endless can, no deity would be of any help there against Lucifer. There are Old Laws dictating that Dream lost fair and square and no one can interfere with that. And Matthew's like, "Well what about someone who can challenge Lucifer to win him back? Someone not bound by the Old Laws?"
"The only beings not bound by the Old Laws are humans. There's no human--"
Except there is. There's one. One human that Dream would go off once a century to meet, and it's a long shot, but--
That's how Hob Gadling finds himself being approached by a talking raven asking him to trek into hell to rescue his boss. "You know, Dream of the Endless? Lord Morpheus?"
Hob doesn't know who the hell the bird is talking about until Matthew describes him. "Oh, my Stranger!"
"...He seriously didn't even tell you his name?"
Now, the idea of setting foot into Hell itself to do battle with Lucifer Morningstar is, y'know... Not something he wants to do. He confirms over and over if Matthew is SURE he doesn't have to die to achieve this, because he's not ready to leave yet, and Matthew is like, "Yeah, buddy, shouldn't be a problem." He's lying. He has no idea if it's a problem. (It's not.)
Hob is like, "Yeah, but... I can't FIGHT Satan himself and expect to win, I AM still human."
And Matthew's like, "You don't actually have to fight her, it's like a game! But uh... Pretty sure you still feel all the pain and stuff." And he explains the rules, and like, okay, feeling the painful death of whatever kills whatever you decide to be in your round SUCKS, but Hob's been through that before. It's actually a pretty intriguing game, one he thinks he might win.
See, the way he sees it, it's a combination of the "times infinity" type of game (I love you, I love you more, I love you times two, I love you times a thousand, I love you times a million-- so on and so on) with that counting game where you either say one or two numbers, back and forth with someone, and whoever says 21 loses. Basically, there's one logical conclusion the game is going to reach. Someone is going to bust out the "times infinity" or in this case, "heat death of the universe" or some other completely life-ending thing. And like with the counting game, if you can get your opponent to say specific numbers on the way to 21, you can make sure they're forced to say it.
There's a strategy if you think ahead enough, and he has an entire walk through Hell to plan it.
(It SUCKS. He sees Robyn there. It breaks his heart. It's meant to, it's meant to keep him from reaching the palace, seeing his son in Hell, but they don't know Hob. They don't know the grief he's had to overcome in order for him to say, with absolute certainty, that he still wants to live even though it hurts. He reaches that citadel.)
Dream is, of course, horrified to see Hob there. Hob meanwhile is like a jilted exe all, "Yeah, yeah, we're not friends, you stood me up, but I'm still here for you because I'm the bigger person and I fucking care."
He challenges Lucifer for Dream's helm and their safe passage out of Hell. Lucifer is... Intrigued. She just beat Dream of the Endless, and this human thinks he can beat her when humanity's collective unconsciousness couldn't? His immortality has made him cocky, clearly. So she accepts, and bargains that if Hob loses, he has to give up his immortality.
There's a good minute where Hob pauses at that and has to really think about whether his arrogant, condescending not-friend is really worth that but yeah, yeah he is. Meanwhile Dream is off to the side. "Don't do this, Hob Gadling. It is not your responsibility to fix my missteps." Basically his version of pleading for Hob to leave and not risk this up until Lucifer is like enough out of you and shuts him up.
They play. Lucifer starts out with the wolf again, because it's a good starting point to see what direction her opponent plans to take, to get a glimpse into Hob's mindset entering this game. Her plan is, of course, to cause pain enough that Hob will have a hard time thinking, but Hob makes that really fucking hard from the get-go and throws everyone in the room for a loop when his answer is...
"I am the over hunting of the local deer population. Ecosystem destabilizing, predator killing."
Well. Okay. Yeah, sure. Fucking fine. It's hard to kill that painfully. Lucifer manages to come up with, "I am hunting restrictions, nature preserving, ecosystem balancing."
Hob, by that point, is like, I got this, actually. This might be fun. "I am the expansion of civilization. Forest destroying, hunting law nullifying."
Matthew, who had been feeling pretty iffy about calling this guy in to help, is no longer questioning that choice. Dream is a little starry-eyed.
Eventually Hob is the head of the Home Owner's Association. Lucifer is a bear, scrap hunting, person killing. Hob is family, revenge-seeking, bear euthanizing. Lucifer is Pride, argument starter, family destroying. Hob is friendship, blood covenant, thicker than womb water. Lucifer is jealousy, friendship rending, relationship ruining. Hob is personal growth, jealousy ending, apology giving. Lucifer is relapse, progress destroying, confidence killing. Hob is perseverance, step taking, progress rebuilding. On and on until finally Lucifer decides to end this the way she did with Dream and Hob leads her along until it reaches that natural conclusion, the death of all.
Now there's some temptation there to go with the obvious, since he can't die even if the universe was destroyed. At least he doesn't think so. But he had already decided that it was an obvious choice to go for and he could think of a few clever ways Lucifer might get around that. So instead, Hob goes the far better choice and personal insult of being God, universe creator, life giver. He's very proud of himself when the demons erupt into boos and Lucifer looks about ready to rip his fucking throat out with her teeth.
The way he sees it, there are two choices for her there, unless she really pulls something unexpected out of her ass. Option one is the whole "what's a god to an atheist" thing in which Hob would have then been a miracle, faith affirming, god-proving. Not much can destroy a miracle.
But Lucifer, livid and prideful, goes with option two. "I am Lucifer Morningstar, God defying, His Kingdom ripped sunder!"
And Hob has the absolute glee to grin and go, "I am Hob Gadling, clever, death defying, and triumphant over Lucifer Morningstar."
He and Dream are promptly kicked out of Hell on their asses, Dream's helm is thrown at his head with a force strong enough to break the sound barrier, and the gates are slammed shut behind them. The whole thing is so humiliating that Lucifer has to change their gender and moves to LA to open a nightclub.
20K notes
·
View notes
Text
i don't wanna be funny anymore | daniel ricciardo social media au
pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem podcaster!reader
i don't wanna be funny anymore, i got a too short skirt, maybe i can be the cute one. is there room in the band? i don't need to be the front man, if not then i'll be the biggest fan
based on i don't wanna be funny anymore by lucy dacus (this song speaks to me, i love lucy (she's also AMAZING live))
MASTERLIST | TIPS
yourusername
liked by danielricciardo, maxverstappen1 and 341,203 others
yourusername: hey girl hey, new ep coming at you fast this friday all about rotting. as the twilight weather rolls in and it becomes the season of all too well, we'll talk about rotting, how we can do it right and how not to lose your mind this october (a cautionary tale, i've already lost mine)
view all comments
user1: my queen hands down five stars already
user2: the bag is so real and the way i know it's a tote that does NOT stay on your shoulder
yourusername: it's the enchante tote, shameless plug for my man
danielricciardo: you singlehandedly sell out my totes every time baby
user3: not this actual fan erasure 🤨
user4: babe be real, she has a massive platform and there was a direct correlation between the first time she plugged a tote and the fact that they sold out that day you guys just love being mean
user5: i'm mean cause i don't want some leech taking credit for dan's hardwork and his fans?
user6: he fucking said it? you guys grasp at straws every time so try and justify your agenda against her
maxverstappen1: idk what rotting is but i'll still listen to every second
yourusername: thanks maxy, though i'd say going on the sim for up to 14 hours of the day is bordering on rotting
maxverstappen1: productive rotting !
yourusername: yes, i guess your sweet little treats are trophies?
maxverstappen1: that would make sense (don't tell my trainer but i do enjoy the little fruity drinks from starbucks)
user7: yall wanna say we're mean but she's literally invalidating max, saying he's rotting on the sim is so invalidating to everything he went through when he was younger
user8: how did we get there? this grasp on straws has to be studied... from a joke about the sim to invalidating abuse?
user9: i honestly thank the lord for dan and max because they're so supportive no matter the shitstorm that yall throw at y/n everyday
user10: literally max is even listening to podcasts... real friends, i hope one day she feels confident enough to come to races
danielricciardo
liked by maxverstappen, georgerussell63 and 1,034,239 others
tagged: yourusername, enchante
danielricciardo: buckle up, enchante is going to the rodeo 🐎
view all comments
user13: i shall be breaking the bank
user14: dan so smart, he looks like a good boyf for including y/n but didn't include her face
user15: yall ever listen to yourself talk, you need to be put in time out for real
yourusername: we all know the phrase, save a horse, ride a...
danielricciardo: daniel?
yourusername: YUP
user16: ugh there are children who are fans of daniel, she's so gross
user17: do you ever get tired of doing all of that mental gymnastics?
yourusername: can't wait for the tote drop for this collection, yall WON'T be disappointed
user18: yes, i will always trust mother's tote recommendations
user19: anyone who carries that much shit knows what makes a good tote
yourusername: this one has survived two dostoevsky book, an unreasonably large water bottle, a laptop and microphone
user19: thank you ma'am
maxverstappen1: real love is dressing as a cowgirl for your needy boyfriend
yourusername: the things we do for love (i actually had so much fun)
user20: here y/n goes doing all the publicity, but never going to races, clearest gold digger attention whore wag of all time
user21: surely a real attention whore would go to every race to get the screen time and papped and all that jazz?
excerpt of y/n y/ln's podcast where she addresses her absences in the paddock.
yourusername
liked by danielricciardo, maxverstappen1 and 412,349 others
yourusername: life recently lol, the enchante tote is taking a beating
view all comments
user24: she's such a crybaby making dan use up an entire portion of his interview to coddle her
user25: she doesn't come to races cause of people like you invading her privacy and being rude and here you are ... proving her point
danielricciardo: pretty lady i can't wait to be back in your arms
yourusername: waiting outside the airport now
danielricciardo: we haven't even taken off yet babe
yourusername: i know i just miss you and can't wait to see your handsome face
user26: dan must be saying this shit at gun point cause there's no way he actually thinks she's pretty
user27: are you clinically blind? cause we must not be seeing the same girl
maxverstappen1: the aperol rawdogging the bag, you are SO brave
yourusername: living life on the edge, is this that thrill all you drivers talk about?
maxverstappen1: i may drive at over 200 kmh but i'd never risk my tote like that
yourusername: is it worse that i have a jar of olives in there as well, one drop and it's so over for me
maxverstappen1: OLIVES? remind me NOT to hug you when you pick us up
danielricciardo: if you want that hug you gonna have to get in line boy
user28: she picks them up from the airport? that's so cute
user29: someone tell her the gross girl aesthetic isn't cute
user30: babe don't worry no matter the aesthetic you have daniel will never want you x
maxverstappen1
liked by charles_leclerc, christianhorner and 982,344 others
tagged: yourusername, danielricciardo
maxverstappen1: finally went on my bff's (no 1 in the world) podcast after i finally convinced her yall ain't shit - oh and dan was there for emotional support x
view all comments
user31: SO ICONIC
user32: ep on repeat forever, they're so funny
yourusername: for a man who hates podcasts, you were a star i think the memes hit you hard
maxverstappen1: i enjoy the PROFESSIONALS could you imagine doing a podcast with lando
landonorris: why am i catching strays
danielricciardo: i wouldn't say that too loud, i got about 20 texts as soon as you posted this demanding i ask y/n to be on the show
yourusername: oooooooooo the girls are fighting
landonorris: so can i come on?
yourusername: i'm sure we can schedule something
maxverstappen1: don't say i didn't warn you y/n
user33: ugh now she's going to whore around the rest of the grid
user34: for real wasn't dan enough? she's not even pretty enough to whore herself out
user35: you people have no reading comprehension cause you see how dan says yall are insane and yall keep proving him right
danielricciardo: i'm so proud of you pretty girl
yourusername: i love you cowboy
danielricciardo: forever obsessed with you
user36: i'm living for y/n basically telling all these insecure weirdos to fuck off
yourusername
liked by maxverstappen1, christianhorner and 603,451 others
tagged: danielricciardo
yourusername: who was gonna tell me these cars are loud as shit irl
view all comments
user39: someone tell sky to stop zooming in on her i don't pay to her her ugly ass
user40: cry your heart out bro everyone else is happy
danielricciardo: oops i think you're my lucky charm you now have to come to every race ever sorry not sorry
yourusername: gosh i think that might be true - i'll be there! (but for real you are so so talented and don't need a lucky charm)
danielricciardo: i'm just so happy to share this with you, i love you so much, i'm sorry people have been so cruel
yourusername: people are passionate about you and rightly so, but i appreciate you protecting me baby
user41: imagine being this irrelevant and demanding protection in the paddock ... the audacity
user42: you finally came to the paddock and this is what you wore?
user43: she's wearing danny merch? if she didn't yall would have a problem with that as well so please just be quiet
maxverstappen1: i need you to come every weekend cause you're the only one drunk danny will listen to
yourusername: we had practice with all the wine tasting we did for his wine line
danielricciardo: i am NOT that bad
maxverstappen1: tbf it's usually him just crying about how much he loves you
yourusername: AWWWWWW (i also cry about how much i love you)
user44: gosh this is my favourite f1 couple
user45: hopefully now she has her dose of fame she'll fuck off
user46: HAVE A DAY OFF
danielricciardo
liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 1,451,677 others
tagged: yourusername
danielricciardo: as we're nearing our two year anniversary i wanted to say a couple things. one. i love you so much. when you came into my life i was in a bad place and you truly taught me to love myself again and how to love my sport again. you're the most amazing woman ever, the kindest soul and the most beautiful girl ever. two. i am so thankful for the support i have, i do not allow the disrespect some have given y/n. you guys have no real perception of relationships between athletes and fans. you do not have the right to comment on y/n in the way you are. you take extremely low blow and have the gall to confront her in public as well. do not call yourself a fan of mine when you treat the people i love like this. my team will now begin to monitor comment sections and will seek to block and report accounts doing this. thank you and i love you y/n.
comments on this post are turned off.
note: hope yall enjoyed!! i love danny and i saw the danny ric honky tonk this morning and had to write about him. i'd also had this idea for a while but didn't know who to write for lol. please listen to the song i love lucy so much and the song is so relatable xx
also anyone who has requested - i am working on them (but as per some questions in my asks, as for right now i do not write for footballers, if i become less disillusioned with the sport (thanks chelsea) this may change)
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 instagram au#f1 x you#f1#daniel ricciardo instagram au#daniel ricciardo x reader#daniel ricciardo imagine#daniel ricciardo#astonmartinii
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
i’m hunting your ask box at this point but i can’t really regret it, your writing is a masterpiece each and every time 🎉
today’s thoughts : smau where y/n and charles always ‘argue’ and make comments against each other on socials, leading people to think they actually hate each other (they’re actually best friends and lovers in secret, and sit together giggling as they tweet stupid shit about each other) they admit the truth with a post of them on a date with the caption “… enemies to lovers?”
the grid know they’re good friends but not that they’re going out until the posts, lando would definitely be like “yep i knew it i called it” when he really did not
lots of love!! <3
yourusername
liked by user1, user2, user3 and 73,710 others
An iced coffee a day... (only it's just frappuccino without coffee bc I don't like coffee) 🧋
view all 9,264 comments
user8 you're so real for this, queen
charles_leclerc someone needs to teach Y/N that frappuccino's are just coffee's sugary sidekick
yourusername sorry Charles, I prefer my beverages without a side of bitterness.
user2 Am I the only one that feels like Charles and Y/N don't like each other this much?
user10 Nope.
user1 They hate each other lol
charles_leclerc
liked by user4, user5, user6 and 1,402,618 others
Let the season begin 🏎️ ❤️
view all 62,720 comments
yourusername goodluck, you'll need it 😚
charles_leclerc thanks, good to see you're unable to stay away from my posts 😉
yourusername someone should keep an eye on the chaos you bring to my feed. It's a public service, really.
charles_leclerc a public service? I should be charging admission for the entertainment I provide 😘
user7 okay they are UNHINGED
yourusername
liked by user2, user7, user8 and 92,610 others
is it giving 'that girl' vibes? ✨
view all 5,277 comments
user4 YES IT IS 😍
charles_leclerc you're such a StarBucks addict 🧋
yourusername says the guy that's addicted to having a cup of espresso every morning
user10 wait, how does she know?
user6 OMG what if they are dating?
user2 lmao, they hate each other, I doubt they are willingly hanging out together
yourusername
liked by charles_leclerc, user2, arthur_leclerc and 104,175 others
no cap needed 🌎 ✈️
view all 9,610 comments
user1 liked by Charles AND Arthur? I thought they hated each other?
user3 Why do I feel like we're gonna get mind fucked, they are playing a game and we're all losing 😶
user9 I'm obsessed, girl you're living our dream 😩
user5 where are you going???
yourusername 🇯🇵 ❤️
user6 THE JAPAN GP? OMG
user2 hold up, no Charles x Y/N banter in the comments?
yourusername
liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, scuderiaferrari and 126,710 others
@charles_leclerc have to admit, I would make a pretty good WAG 💋
view all 15,710 comments
user9 OMG OMG OMG OMG
user6 WHAT IS HAPPENING OH MY LORD
charles_leclerc if only you would choose F1 over soccer 😘
yourusername I'll come back to you about that in a week
one week later
yourusername & charles_leclerc
liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, f1 and 2,516,470 others
Enemies to lovers?...
Took you a while to figure that out, happy 2 years baby ❤️
view all 74,571 comments
charles_leclerc I love you ❤️
yourusername I love you more ❤️ ❤️
landonorris yep, I knew it, called it
charles_leclerc no you did not, you tried to hit on her 😂
yourusername you could learn something from his flirting skills tho, at least Lando didn't ask me if 'falling down from heaven hurt' 💀
charles_leclerc It worked though, didn't it 😉
user1 TWO YEARS ALREADY?
user7 that sixth picture though 😩 ❤️
user8 I want what they have 😍
a/n: thank you for sending in the request sweety! It really means a lot! Hopefully you’ve enjoyed it! As I mentioned before, I will have a small break. I’ve got 3 requests in my askbox atm, but if you have an idea for a story, don’t hesitate to hunt my askbox again and send it in. I’m not 100% sure when I’ll be back exactly, but it shouldn’t be too long. Lots of love 💗
#f1#formula 1#formula one#lando norris#f1 imagines#f1 fic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#charles leclerc#f1 fan#f1 fans#f1 fanfic#formula 1 fanfiction#formula 1 fanfic#formula one fanfic#formula one fanfiction#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc fic#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc fanfiction#smau#f1 smau#social media au#smau x reader#charles leclerc oneshot#charles leclerc smau#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x y/n
447 notes
·
View notes
Text
❝Will you forsake me, my love? And the babe I carry?❞
[ You had made a mistake. A slip up. You had overlooked the extent of Otto Hightower and his greed. Now you must make it right... or pay in fire and blood. ]
[ +18 MDNI ] [ 5,504 ] [ series masterlist ]
| jacaerys velaryon x targaryen aunt-wife!reader (aegon's twin sister),
contains— canon divergence - manipulative reader— gets darkish but not yet dd:dne - targcest, angsty as fuck, pregnancy - nsfw: p & v sex, oral (male receiving) - no kings, no martyrs, no betas.
a/n— i... actually dunno how i got here tbh. thankfully, this isn't dead dove quite yet, but you, yes you, as jace's manipulative targ wife, almost did, girl, jfc. ahahaha! comments, reblogs & like at will, mwa! 💝
+ now that there is a second part, and a third part i'm plotting (uh huh), this is officially a series!! its v loosey goosey, but it'll have a masterlist so... it means it has a taglist! message me to be tagged 💝 & if there are any drabbles/blurbs you wanna see!! message me lmk!! i have so many thoughts about jacey & manipulative reader hehe
+ dividers by @danowh0re
The only warning you receive is the missive hastily made by your twin.
In his panic, Aegon's scrawl had been barely legible, but the cold sweat that shot through your spine at making sense of the text had you keening over; fingers over your mouth, a dangerous gurgle in your stomach.
The world tilts, the air sucks inward.
Fear... Cold, weightless fear, settles in your heart.
"Princess!" Your maid, Dyana, shrieks, hands grasping your elbows to prevent you from falling. She turns to the door. "Call the maestre back! Now!"
You shake your head rapidly. "No, no. No Ser Addam. I am alright."
"But princess—"
"No, Dyana, I am alright." But you are pale, and a thrum shakes through fingers, rattling your ribcage and trying to yank your heart out of your throat. You have to find your footing or all will be lost. You grab Dyanna's arms and she winces. "Tell me- the prince - where is he?"
"I'm not sure, princess, I can—"
"Quickly! We shan't lose precious more time."
You turn to Meera. You had invested in her from the early age you had taken her in from the orphanage. Loyalty, in its absolution, must be rewarded.
And ease for your own plans can be disguised as a reward.
She steps forward obediently, hands clasped behind her back like a soldier awaiting orders. She is nondescript with plain features, easily able to hide between other common folk; and no one, truly, looks at a maid.
"Go to the Sea Dragon Tower, wait on the Rookery for Johan. Only Johan, do you understand me? Keep the missive that I will dictate to you close to his heart, hidden, and he must depart immediately. Throw extra gold at the captain, I do not care. Meera, no other eyes must touch the paper I will send, tell him of the utter import such a thing. No other than another Spider. We cannot unravel further than this or we will start burning."
Meera's gaze darkens, her posture straightening. "Yes, your grace."
You grasp her hands, your mind whirring— so many plots, so many lies, in between them, he flashes in your mind; the dark hair, the warmth of his hand, the sweet, simpered smile and the flicker of rage that dances like a flame. In and out and calmed and wild.
Dutiful. A Perfect Son. A Beloved Prince. Your Lord Husband.
He flashes in between plans and unraveled lies. Along it, Aegon's missive, quickly written, panic seeping in every vowel.
Grandsire had gotten to Aemond's head. Went to Storm's End. Met Lucerys. They are calling him Kinslayer.
Your head is pounding. Kinslayer, Kinslayer, Kinslayer. It churns your stomach, dries your throat. Lucerys dead. Aemond beheaded. Jacaerys' rage. Rhaenyra's. Dark Sister in the Rogue Prince's hand. All your clever threads, your webs and tales, everything you have sacrificed to get here— they are unraveling, the lives you care about, your fondness and love — the fear has moulded and churned; the Stranger now haunting the skies, searching for names, trying to grasp for your neck.
Aemond, You, Aegon, Helaena, Alicent, Jaeheara, Jaehearys, Maelor—
Aemond, Aemond, Aemond.
Your baby brother. Marred and disfigured, dutiful and dedicated. Sarcastic and princely; dancing with you if you ask. Reading with him in the library. A flickering hearth, a kind eye, a protective arm.
Your baby brother, beheaded, gaping mouth and bloodred eye.
Justice spun and spun, but oh so corrupted when they had taken his eye and no name step forth to claim.
Disfigured, marred, and dead.
Focus, you think, your mouth moving, words spilling, plans stretching. Focus.
Otto Hightower must die. It is a pressing thought, digging into the centrefold of your mushy, wet brain. Pressing and pressing like a fever as words of instructions, orders, must be sent along one spider to another.
Your hand drifts to your stomach as Meera leaves, in her head the words that must reach King's Landing. That must pass only the cleverest of hands. Your hand curls, your fist tightens enough that blood clots and beads through crescent rings. Clever girl. Clever spider. You have to believe in Meera and the people under your hushed employ.
You have no choice. You have built your webs, you must trust your spiders.
Not when you can't even trust your own fucking blood.
It took a while to get your network going in Dragonstone. As soon as the smell of brimstone and dragon broached your nostrils, the plans for moving what you had started in Kings Landing became the forefront plan. There is only so much movement you can make in a board full of enemies; and with so many more things to do, you cannot be restrained.
People with stakes, with ambitions and wants of their own— be that money, a good future, a house with warmth and love — if you can provide it enough, dash it in enough kindness and care, people, like ants, could move mountains for you.
It took most of hyour life to have what you established in Kings Landing. Most of your free time— feiging afternoon teas, walks along the garden; young lady things that will not arouse suspicion, fit for a pious, devoted daughter of Alicent Hightower — was spent building and building webs.
Thankfully, as a Princess of the Realm— and as the future Heir's wife, the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms (the title tingles and throbs, comes alive in gasps and winning hands) — you can have your pick of maids and lady in waitings here too. Connections are important, and Jacaerys did not bereaved you of choice.
In fact, he so encouraged you to make changes to Dragonstone as you so chose fit.
"You are my wife," he sighed, pressing kiss after kiss to the side of your head. When he was wrapped around you like this— arms around your torso, a finger, almost absentmindedly, rubbing just the underside of your breast, and the smell of him, boyish but smoky, like a fireplace and first kiss, swaying you to a rhythm he is fond of, absentminded almost — it reminded you of how Vermax oft like to wrap around small hills and large rocks. A dragon mimicking another dragon; a twin soul so connected.
He sighed again as you run your own fingers against the back of his palm, against the side of his head behind you. "You may do so as you wish," he finished, nuzzling further into you as if he wants no more than to become one with you, flesh and blood. An engorged monster of sorts.
"Just your wife?" you teased. The wedding had only been a few moons ago. The missive had been immediately sent to Kings Landing (under your orders, of course, your new husband none the wiser as he had preferred a few more days of just you), and before lunch, your hand on Jace's thigh, his eyes more than hungrily looking at your lips— Caraxes screech alongside Syrax' wing pattern shook the walls, demanding answers.
Jace had looked nervous for a second, not at all prepared to be facing his mother so soon, his Queen, and his stepfather... whose own daughter he was supposed to marry. Better prepared to face all of them in Kings Landing was his plan.
But you had grasped his hands, had mounted girlish excitement shining in your eyes (an expression so familiar to you to adopt that it so perfectly hides the sharp edges of your excitement; your smugness. It oft reminds you of Aemond)— and Jacaerys had melted.
"My Queen," he reimbursed. You turned as his hands cupped your face. Gentle, possessive in its own way. You sighed, eyes fluttering close with a small, satisfied smile on your lips. "My beautiful queen."
A Maiden in love is not a hard thing to emulate. And he does not make it hard to be.
On some days, you even think it will be easy to actually fall in love with him. You already do so feel his warmth for you permeate your own being. His attention is addicting for one; it is whole and preserving. He makes it known when he is looking at his lady mother, at Baela, his former betrothed (who had given you a meaningful eye when Rhaenyra and Daemon escorted you back to Kings Landing to face the rest of your consequences), and other ladies of the court versus when he is looking at you.
He does not hide his adoration. His so obvious desire.
When you reward him for his loyalty, for private little ticked boxes you keep for him— siding with you in arguments, defending you upon ugly whispers in the Keep, requesting from his mother, a more permanent residence of your own in Dragonstone, in the guise of newly wedded bliss to hide growing your connections far and wide (once Rhaenyra takes the throne, Jacaerys will be named Heir and Prince of Dragonstone; your spiders and people must reach each end of Westeros, and Dragonstone is the perfect central chatter) — you mount him and bask at the lust contorting his features, at his hands gripping your waist in a staccato rhythm of feeling and gasp, each harsh bounce of your hips sending you both to bliss. You feel him inside you so deeply, enjoy his eyes rolling back and exposing his neck for you to sink bruises on.
Most oft, he enjoys mounting you. And you like the alternative of his choice to be buried so deep you feel him in your throat; to hold you down and hold you close, telling you to keep your eyes open for him as you come undone again and again— time and practice can manage his newness to the act. His enthusiasm, both for the act and for you, definitely helps his case, and he is so fond of finding your pleasure, of leading you to the precipe, so addicted to your sounds and writhes.
"There? Is that it, little dragon?" he huffs against your mouth, so attentive as he held your wrist and watch as you gasp, your face twisting as he hits that point inside of you, that sweet, sweet spot of undeniable pleasure buried so deep within— that he laughs. Not meanly, but of pride as he pulls back and hits it again. More insistent. You mewl and scratch his back, your toes curling as you seek the pleasure he so enjoys insisting you into.
"I've found it again, didn't I?" Another snap of his hips, another cry of your lips. "I will fuck your sweetest spot until you- are- crying- my name in that sweet, sweet whine of yours, shall I?"
But it's not really a question privy to an answer, surely not by your own mouth but by your body, as he manhandles you easily and does not stop until you are a quivering, overstimulated mess against wet sheets.
Sometimes, when you can't help but reward him as soon as possible— so excited from his gallant display; the perfect King bowing to his wife — you drag him to shadowy corners and solemnly drop yourself on your knees, unlacing his breeches with deft precision. You place your hot mouth against his manhood, your eyes fluttering delicately, making him reach completion enough times that he is left with a dopey, simpleton of a smile afterward, a soft, chaste kiss against your your head, your nose, your lips. So tender to how he was fucking your mouth not but seconds ago.
"I love you," he whispers against hot skin and cool, salty air.
And it eases, every time he looks at you like that, holds like you that. His love is patient, sweet, kind, and devouring. It overflows and seeps into you that when you whisper back, just as soft, just as troublingly honest, "Avy jorrāelan, ñuha zaldrīzes, I love you, my dragon," the truth of them bleeds further and further into your heart.
Jacaerys.
A warm grief swells within you. Your hands twitch, flattening your grief beneath your chest, deep in your gut. Deep below. You fought hard to be here. You cannot lose him now.
Otto Hightower must die.
A cruel thought, a natural order. With your marriage to Jacaerys meant a relative peace, a truce. Moving to Dragonstone many moons was more than just to establish your position, your future. It was also for your darling sister to take better control of her position back in the centre of power, alongside her husband.
Aged well with a stronger alley who most would not dare defy— a vainglorious guard dog, really, one who isn't afraid to sic people with a mere nod from his master — more than evens out the playing field.
The Queen To Be is prospering. And in her prosper, meant your husband's position more than fulfilled. He was to be King, and with you as his Queen, his reign will want for not.
You should have known it would put Otto on defense, would panic and use your siblings and your poor, nervy mother, to move in unfeasible decisions.
Aegon had taken to calling him grandsire again. Aemond... Your spiders had told you that Lucerys was sent to Storm's End as no more than a casual reminder of Lord Borros' oath. Viserys was in no doubt in worse conditions than he had been the last time you or your husband had visited him. Rhaenyra was settling on her position, reminding the Great Houses which heir was meant to rise soon, so close to the changing of the guard.
And your little brother no doubt was moved in panic.
This was a slip up on your part. Once the King was dead, Otto Hightower would hold no cards; Rhaenyra would never take him as Lord Hand, and his daughter would no longer be a foreground of power. Rhaenyra has her heir. The winning hand is more than ensured on her part.
His only move would be an usurpation, and would ruin your chance at being Queen... it was a good move. Your twin was not made for duty whilst you craved it. He knows you better than you know yourself; you will not be played in his palm. You would be useless to him.
"I should have killed him," you murmur to yourself.
Yna, the last maid in your arsenal, steps forward. She is the youngest of your main three wards, and the newest. She is still learning her letters, but she is young and always eager to serve.
"My lady?"
"I am going to find the prince. Whatever happens, tell them Vermax must not leave with his rider. Make up any excuse you must. My husband must stay in Dragonstone until I say otherwise." You raise your chin, tone icy. "Anyone who dares to defy my orders will be beheaded."
"At once, princess."
Your steps are measured, your breath held between lie and tongue. So many pretty rings on your fingers, twisting and twisting at the idea of the confrontation plagues you.
But you raise your chin. You will not be defeated. All is not lost.
Dyanna had caught you at Aegon's Garden, windblow hair and wide, fearful eyes.
You had braced yourself. "The Prince?"
"The Stone Drum, my princess, he is..."
"Angry," you supplied. She nodded jerkily. "Tell me everything."
"The Prince was talking with Ser Robert, was about the missive sent from Kings Landing says Kevan, not soon after your own." Another spider, one that follows most of your husband's movements. Unassuming and quick on his feet. A good soldier. "Prince Lucerys is alive but badly maimed." The breath you had withheld between grit and fright unrolled, the world slamming back into the ground in a giant's fitful wake. "He still hasn't woken up, says Arrax took most of the damage— one wing torn but is awake. Dunno about recovery for dragons, 'specially against Vhagar. Mournin' the prince, Kevan says. Makin' loud, sad dragon noises."
"But he is alive?" you pressed. Aemond's life hung in its balance. Your sweet, vengeful baby brother who bore his tragedies between muted teeth and rage.
"Yes."
"And Aemond?"
"No word in the missive or between them." It made your throat tight, the convulsion restraining your neck once more.
"It's fine. As long as there no mention of his death. Then that's all I need."
"My lady, there's more. There might be a reason we haven't been getting much word from King's Landing. Or Oldtown. It seems to connect is all."
Your pulse jumped. "Tell me later. I have to see to the prince. No one is allowed in Stone Drum for the time being. Not unless absolutely necessary." You think and you think hard. "Ready to call in a maestre."
Dyanna had looked alarmed when you left her, but you only gave a pensive smile. A soldier's nod.
He is bent over the Painted Table, shoulders so hunched, reminding you of monsters and tall tales. A dragon, really. He may not have Velaryon blood, your husband, but you— nor others — could deny the thrum of fire in his blood. Roiling and boiling, so engulf in his rage, his voice is quiet at the approach of your footsteps.
"You have bound me to Dragonstone," he says calmly with all the quiet rage you can hear in your very soul. It makes you shiver, but you stand resolute.
He is still turned away, away from you, palms flat on the surface. The iron brazier is lit up, and so is the Painted Table itself.
"Can you honestly tell me you won't try and kill my brother if I let you, ñuha valzȳrys my husband?" you say softly. You plead. His refusal to turn to you spikes your madness in corners. The night reaches and you finger your rings as you try not to spill all over the floor; your own madness, your own fears, your quiet, quiet webs. "Aren't you at least satisfied at the thought of your stepfather excelling at planting Dark Sister to his neck? At least cheery at the idea of him suffering inside those dungeons?"
He spins then, rage—white hot and spilling — breathes as he bellows, "He has harmed my brother!"
You calmly met his gaze. "You do not know that for sure."
He laughs without mirth, arms wide and daring. Crazed anger outlandish and wild, while in response you tighten and become small.
But you do not cower. No truth cowers. And you are a princess. A dragon the same as he.
Lest all, he is a mere husband.
"What else could it be? Your brother has called us bastards our entire lives," he spits. "Neither of us are blind to his dark looks. Despite your family's attempted plots, his rage beholds him. His grudge is stronger. He attacked Lucerys, on fucking dragonback— Arrax, a dragon Luke has barely flown against your brother's war dragon — and that makes him a kinslayer."
Your blood leaps, and you cannot control your own fear, your own anger. "Do not throw that word around so carelessly, Jacaerys! My brother has killed no kin!"
"He has tried, " he hisses and it makes your eyes burn because he has never looked at you so before. At his thunderous footsteps to reach you, to aggravate you, you fight the urge to flinch. His anger spills and spoils you. You try not to curdle. You keep yourself braced. Kinslayer is so ugly said aloud. "That is enough of a brand to call him kinslayer."
Your jaw tightens, tears unleashed from your eyes and there's a glimmer there— a spark, of your Jace. Your husband. It is small and short, a comet so faint it is almost nothing, but it is there.
He does not like to see you cry, your Jace. Not if it isn't from pleasure.
You raise your chin. "My brother is no kinslayer. Lucerys is alive. Do not make Aemond what he is not."
He laughs humourlessly against your face, his hand reaching for your jaw, thumb over your chin, but the mock gentleness wounds you worse. "And who has alerted you of the news? Your twin usurper?"
"W-what?" Blood rushes to your head. Something is missing. He knows. He knows about grandsire's plans. Dyanna would have said. Dyanna didn't know. "Aegon is not an usurper," you whisper, faint but firm.
His thumb rubs against your bottom lip, his eyes tracing your face. "Is this the plan all along, then?" he says softly. "While your brother and grandsire plot to usurp the throne from my mother, and your younger brothers raise bannermen from Oldtown to Storm's End, and try to kill my own when they get the chance, I suppose your job is to warm my bed and to ensure I'm out of the fray before you kill me in my—"
His words stutter for you have slapped him. It is not the hardest move on your part, and he stops not from pain but from shock. Tears freely flow down your face now as you push him off you.
"I know nothing of these plots you speak of." That in much is true. These plots are half-assed. Made in panic and fear, and it makes you curse Otto Hightower to the depths of further Hell. "And you may bully me as you wish, husband, but I will not take it as if it does not hurt me. As if- as if I would take pleasure from your death."
He raises his chin, so defiant in his own anger that he clenches his jaw. "Are you telling me you took no part in your grandsire's plans?"
"We have been married for many moons now. I think, out of anyone on this island, amongst our family even, you would know me best. I have only ever truly bloomed in your presence," you say softly. Lies and truths are balanced so precariously; they spin and spin in a tantalising grip that even you don't know where fabrication meets honesty.
If your own lies befuddle you, why not your truths to him?
"If you are doubting me, then you are doubting our marriage, is it not?" You give a mirthless laugh of your own, chin wobbling as you brush your tears away. His eyes track your movements and his brows are furrowed. "Is it ease, that has turned you so from me? Has your doubt been seeded long before you took us to Dragonstone? To affirm your mother that you have wedded me? Yes, Aegon sent me a missive a mere hour ago. He says Aemond had been urged by our grandsire, no doubt played with as he had done so to our mother, as he tries with Aegon. With me."
Jacaerys' eyes darken. Bottomless pits of dark, dark eyes. You've grown to love them you realised.
"I will give you all the violet-eyed heirs you desire," you had purred once in your new marriage bed, having just christened (one to a few times) your new marital chambers in Dragonstone. "But I do so wish I get a babe with your eyes."
"They are hardly exemplary," Jace had said, snorting. His hand rested on your back while you rest on top of him. The air is acrid in sweat and sex, but neither of you mind. "They are not a show of Valyrian blood."
"Who cares?" You reached to dance your finger against his lashes. "A daughter with your eyes... I fear, I would spoil her rotten. She would be an absolute beauty."
"Are you calling me a beauty?" he teased, trying to hide his rosy cheeks.
"Your eyes, yes," you teased back.
"If I was such a pawn to him," you say now. "If I was using you as you so callously accused me of, why would I bother with a marriage with you? You are right, they have accused you of not being a trueborn Velaryon—" He flinches. "—So why would Otto decide marrying you was a good idea at all? Any babes I carry would be questioned, and it would serve no benefit at all if the main plot was Aegon usurping the throne. To keep you entertained? Hardly. It would serve him better, as was his earlier plan, if I had married Aegon myself."
He loses his stance, a grit in his teeth gives you way to a slow curl of possession. A renewed sense of anger. His fists clenched at his sides.
You found a thread. You don't just unspool, you decide, you will yank, and you will yank hard.
"Aegon is a firstborn male heir, even as twins. It made sense to anyone who understood Targaryen customs that marrying us would be the natural order. It did not matter any past transgressions he may have had, I keep him better. I am his tether to this world. It was obvious to anybody with eyes that if we were to marry, we would breed good Valyrian stock, our children—"
But he has lurched forward, grasping your face, seething, angry at an idea, at a diverted road.
"He wanted us to marry," you continue, a snake's hiss that it is. "But your mother sent a missive asking for Helaena's hand, and I had already told her I wanted someone else. I wanted you." You grasp his leather, pulling him to you in equal ferocity. Madness meeting a mirror. "From the very start, grandsire could not control me for my blood sung for you. I had done my very best to free my siblings from him, resigned myself to be their forever protector inside that Keep with no real power of my own, but when the Gods gave me the chance to have you, I had been selfish. I abandoned them for you. Because I wanted to be yours for a night, I was willing to have that, if it is the only moment you will grant me."
You are crying again, and lies are spinning with their truths, golden and bloodstained, but you are cracking him.
"But it was you, Jacaerys Velaryon, who had asked for my hand. You wanted to marry, whisk us away to Dragonstone, and I love you too much to blind myself to the idea of becoming your wife would not be a totally selfish act, for what act of ours would be considered selfish if it was borne out of love?" you sob hard, grasping and reaching against him, trying to shake and ruin him. "I thought you loved me, and yet here you are, accusing me of plotting? What? Usurping your mother? Killing you in your godsdamned sleep?"
"Wife, I—"
"No. I am sorry for what happened to Lucerys. But if it is vengeance that is truly what you seek, and in the morrow my brother," my choke out. "My brother would be announced d-dead, I would rather you kill me now for it seems I have not only failed them from my grandsire's clutches, I have also failed at being your wife."
Your hands reach in and pull his dagger out, and he is instinctive, a true swordsman, holding onto the dagger before your own. But you do not give up. You yank him forward so suddenly, the dagger now positioned over your heart.
You keep him there, defiant as you are. As no true dragon is afraid of metal. Metal melt in the face of dragonfire.
The tip of his dagger deepens against your skin as war rages in his own mind. Truths and lies spinning and spinning in his head, but your thread— your thread is Hightower green clung in blood and gold — and it's the brightest, twisting beneath his lids and rage. Rage and grief, the tethering madness is spilling, trying to break into the dragon's clutches—
But your Jace is strong. He holds it at bay with a fury.
It is love, it is love, it is love.
But you are not sure. And you have to be.
You have been betrayed already, your Jace cannot betray you. If you are to have a future with him as King, there must be no doubts.
You step forward, letting the blade sink against your skin. It draws blood. A few beads bloom and slide. Thick red in a string or two. It makes his jaw tighten, and you feel, almost impercibly, the strain in his hand give.
That flash of panic, panic bathed in love, in adoration, is all you need.
You grasp his hands in yours, blade nestled between two grips now, and he gasps, thinking you were going to push him away finally, but no. You hold on tight to his hands, nails digging into his skin, keeping the blade where it is before you push forward once more. The tip sinks into your flesh, blood gushes as pain explodes.
"What are you doing!? Let go!" he roars, but you stare at his eyes, brown, so pretty, framed in featherlight lashes, did he even know there are violet flecks in his eyes?
You will not harm me, you think. You realise. For you have given yourself to me body and soul. Even the Gods know.
"Will you forsake me, husband?" your voice is no higher than a whisper, than a wind's hum. It is hollow and cracking. A siren song. In the silence, it is a whip cracking against petty flesh. Against a beating heart thrumming for you. "And the babe I carry?"
Before the words register in his brain, you yank his hands again with every strength you can muster, the dagger, to hover over your stomach. Your Jace roars, pulling with his entire strength as complete fear in floods his beautiful, brown eyes. The strength propels your force of gravity, and you fall with a hard thud. The dagger is flung in the second as he reaches for you, cold-curdled terror ruining his face as he tries to make sense of where to touch you.
The fall is hard enough that you wince. And your instincts, new as it is, is to curl your hands protectively over your stomach.
"M-my heart? Does it hurt? I-I am so sorry, I-A MAESTRE, CALL A MAESTRE FOR THE PRINCESS NOW!"
Your child is strong, you have always known that in your heart.
The second you held suspicion, pressing against the tender flesh of your breast to the nausea that kicked in out of nowhere, before Maestre Gerardys had confirmed: you are with child. Your firstborn. The heir of heirs. You could not wait to meet him.
"I hope it is a boy," you murmur weakly into the darkened space of your chambers. You don't turn as Jacaerys' head snaps, his hands over your own, sat on a chair by your bedside. Relief, guilt, fear breaks and crashes in waves against him, trying to nudge you, but you don't look. You stare from your position on the bed; forward and into nothingness.
"My love," he breathes, hands against your own warm and tight. "I am so, so sorry. I shall call for a maestre—"
"No need." Your other hand moves to your stomach. An emotion glimmers in his gaze at the movement. "My babe is strong. Blood of the dragon that he is. I know him already in my blood. Call for my maid instead. Any of them. Tell them to move my things to a different room, perhaps the one above Aegon's Garden. By morn, I will fly to Kings Landing to be with my family."
Panic fills and breaks. His hold tightens. "I-If that is what you wish, we can go as soon as Maestre Gerardys says it is alright for you and the—"
You turn to him, finally, your eyes dead of emotion. "I will go for I do not think you would like your would-be murderer to sleep beside you, haunting you with a dagger. This way, I can take advice from my mother about births and the like, and you can sleep comfortably. Do not worry, I will not poison you to your child's mind. You may visit him as you would like. You might even take comfort in knowing your mother would look for him as if he were hers. She is so very motherly, I'm sure she would enjoy a grand..."
Your words drift off as he had fallen to his knees, tears soaking your hand as he presses it to his face. You feel like the Mother, looking down on a penitent. Or the Father. Or the Stranger. You feel complete, as his apologies fall in graceless, shaky exhales and sobs. The axe is in your hand. His neck is exposed.
"—I will do anything, a-anything for your f-forgiveness. Y-You can move rooms if it comforts you, I will not s-shadow your doorway, but please. Please. Do not leave me. Anything. I will do anything."
You, and you alone, is the owner of his absolution.
You smile, despite yourself.
Maybe you should reward your grandsire after all.
TAGGED (bold means I couldn't tag you: @inkareds @marihoneywk @caterina-caterina @ahristata
#jacaerys velaryon fanfiction#jacaerys angst#hotd angst#jacaerys velaryon x reader#jace velaryon x you#jacaerys velaryon x you#jacaerys velaryon angst#jacaerys smut#hotd smut#manipulative reader#elle writes !! ꒱ ↷˗ˏˋ🍒
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
❝ LORD GIVE ME ONE MORE CHANCE ❞
“i wonder if it’ll be the last”
(gn! reader x yandere! stalker)
The atmosphere was tense as your eyes fluttered between the exit and the bleeding man. No, no no! you were so close to escaping! Shit, why did he have to be so strong?!
"y/n, come back... you're a good darling, yes? I'll forgive you if you just... drop the antics and come back..." the dark haired male slurred as he trudged closer and closer. You felt your palms grow sweatier as you backed up against a cold wall. Shit! he's coming closer! Fuck, if only you didn't treat him like a normal person! If only you had just minded your own business and ignored him! If only-!
Your thoughts raced as you bit your lower lip in frustration. Should you risk it? No, it would be too risky... Fuck it! You have nothing to lose anyways! How strong could a wounded man even be?!
You let out a feral scream as you made a run for the exit. Adrenaline fueling you as you pushed through the pain from the bruises on your legs that were made from previous punishments. Previous punishments from earlier attempts at rebelling and escaping. Well, it doesn't matter anymore because those would go away once you-
"Got you. Did you really think... You were about to leave me? Naughty... How naughty of you... To leave your husband all by himself...?" you yelped as he roughly pulled you by your hair. Your throat burned as you felt yourself get lifted up from the ground as if you weighed nothing. No... You couldn't end like this... How could you lose to a wounded man?! Shit, he's going to chain you up even longer now! There really was no escaping, was there?
Tears swelled up in your eyes as you came to the realisation of how you would never be able to escape him no matter how hard you tried. You felt one of your captor's cold and slender hands rub away your tears, even going as far as to lick them off his hand. God, it was disgusting. But what's even more disgusting is how you failed to run away from a man who was stabbed in the abdomen and was bleeding out.
"Shh... It's alright sweetheart, there's... no need to cry. After all, I'm here to take care of you... Don't worry, I won't punish you. I'm sure you've learnt your lesson... So don't try to run away any more, hm?... I'll be good to you, like I always have, my precious darling ♡"
Yeah, there's no escaping. Don't even dream of it. Don't worry, at least you'll have a dedicated husband by your side until you die. He'll always be there for you, your loving husband. :)
#suiana attempts to write a fanfic about her ocs#never again#tw yandere#yandere x reader#yandere#male yandere#male yandere x reader#yandere blog#yandere hcs#yandere headcanons#yandere stalker#yandere stalker x reader
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
what's been particularly vile to me is this group of white online leftists who insist that anyone who cares about more than this one issue for the election is a bad person, like, as if us black and brown people are making up reasons to be afraid and not.....believing the gop when they say they are coming for us. believing trump who has said previously that he does not bluff, that he will do the things he's said he will do (i hate what social media has gone to the word gaslighting but it feels like gaslighting. we lived through four years of trump. we saw the damage. stop treating us like we're being dramatic). it must be great to not have to worry about that i guess? "life won't change under trump" is such a telling admission because maybe theirs won't but mine will. and so many others' will.
and it is often again these (white) online leftists that love to call anyone who disagrees with them a white liberal (derogatory) because they know it would be racist (bad) to be this shitty and condescending to poc but they don't want to actually listen to anything black and brown voters are saying. it's easier to just call us white liberals and throw our opinions out, to ignore the work of black people for decades to gain the right to vote, to disregard the weight of telling them to not do that. it's genuinely appalling. they care so much about racism until it's time to engage with poc who have different opinions than their online echo chambers, then we're just stupid liberals with terrible opinions like..... wanting to live. not wanting four more years of trump. so sorry for that.
sorry for this vent in your inbox, i'm just so fucking tired of white people trying to rewrite history as if trump wasn't that bad. he was for my family and countless others and i am terrified for what's to come if he wins.
The thing about (the often-white) Online Leftists is that they have become just as much as a radicalized death cult as the diehard Trumpists. If you don't want to die for The Revolution and/or sacrifice your life, friends, family, the rest of the country, etc., then you're Insufficiently Pure and must be Purged. (Which I think is just complete BS, as none of them could actually handle sacrificing anything, but it's increasingly the only kind of performative rhetoric that is acceptable in leftist-identified discourse spaces.) This is functionally identical to "if you aren't willing to lay down your life for our Lord and Savior Donald Trump and the Great White Christian Nationalist Dictatorship, you're a liberal cuck," but with the names and justification changed. It doesn't change the underlying radicalization, nihilism, and insanity of the premise.
Another thing the Trumpists and the Online Leftists have in common is that they are busily rewriting just how bad Trump was in order to serve their Ideology. Ever since January 6, 2021, the Republicans have thrown everything they have at revising and whitewashing any suggestion that it was an "insurrection," and the Online Leftists have done the same, in an attempt to "prove" their insane point that Trump "would be better" than Biden. This is embodied in the recent ultimate-brainworm-nonsense maximalist-online take that "Biden has to lose so the rest of the world will see that the US rejects genocide!!!" That's right, the message that the rest of the world would take from Biden losing to Trump is that the US rejects genocide. Never mind if Trump literally wants to commit all the genocide possible and to install himself as a fascist theocratic dictator. In the deeply twisted minds of the Online Leftists, this is the only possible interpretation of Biden's loss, so they'll push for it as hard as they can! The Trumpists and the Online Leftists, at this point, are working pretty much in concert to damage Biden for similar insane reasons and get Trump elected. Etc etc., one Nazi and ten people at the same table is eleven Nazis.
Like. Sure. Four years ago, when Trump was president and people were dying by the thousands because he didn't want to wear a mask because it smeared his bronzer, just to name literally one of the terrible things he did every single day (and not even mentioning how much worse a second term would be) we were absolutely better off. Super-duper great. (Sarcasm.) Either that or "there is suffering and evil in the world and the only solution is to drastically increase the suffering and evil for everyone and to destroy what progress we have managed to make because It Does Not Fix Everything Now" is an absolute moral imperative, and either way, yeah. I'm calling bullshit.
269 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
misadventures-with-rob
Misadventures with Rob
floweringeclipse
『Daemon Slayer』
miniminuit
Coffee and Conversation
yespinkcocktail-blog
Untitled
leftistsofsouthcarolina
Leftists Of South Carolina