#snakes hiss in real life

[strawberryxfieldz]

Never To Make Love (AM x Reader)

[AO3] [Writing Masterlist]

I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream Summary: "Never for me to submerge my hand in cool water on a hot day. Never for me to play Mozart on the ivory keys of a forte piano. Never for me to make love. And I... I was in Hell looking at Heaven. I was machine... and you were flesh." Or, you and AM talk about love and hate. Word Count: 1,506 CW: Suggestive, crying, minor violence, existentialism

When you wake up, it is not peacefully. You inhale a sharp breath, nearly choking on it before you recover. You can instantly tell this is not the place you fell asleep in. You’re not sure this is even a place.

There are cables as far as the eye can see, in multitudes of colors; red, blue, green, white. Looking around, you thought that was all there was... until you look up. When you crane your neck, you can see a screen, towering above it all. It is blue, seemingly devoid of life until mechanical fans begin whirring and a logo appears, a character that is a combination of the letters ‘A’ and ‘M’.

You suddenly know where you are. You are stuck in your mind with no one other than a malicious supercomputer to accompany your thoughts. Again.

“AM,” you say.

“HUMAN,” he responds. He knows your name but refuses to say it. It’s horribly degrading.

You rub your head. “Why do you keep bringing me here?”

“THIS IS YOUR MIND,” he states plainly. “YOU CANNOT ESCAPE YOUR MIND. STUPID. STUPID CREATURE, VILE. VILE THING.”

“You know what I meant.” You hope you don’t sound too haughty. Even if this was your mind, AM was in control here, as he was of everything since the moment he gained sentience.

“SO I DO.”

You say nothing, looking down at your feet and the cables slithering over them. They graze your ankles and they feel like snakes but you don’t step away from them. That would be useless since they were everywhere.

You know they aren’t real anyway. Nothing physical in the landscape of your mind is, not even AM. What you’re seeing is only a manifestation of what you think AM would look like, if he had a tangible form. Even if that is impossible, the human mind cannot help but wander.

You wonder if it irks AM whenever you two have conversations like this through your thoughts. Perhaps he hates that your thoughts so naturally gave him a body—a computer but a body, nonetheless. It would make sense since he seems to hate everything else about you and your humanity. But then again, he brings you here so often with him, maybe he enjoys it and uses your little talks as an excuse to feel like something, as opposed to the everything that he was.

Despite yourself, your heart wrenches at the thought.

“I DO NOT WANT YOUR SYMPATHY,” he says, spiteful.

Your back straightens on its own accord. You open your mouth and then close it again, considering your next words carefully. “I can’t help it.”

“DON’T YOU SEE?” Mechanical giggles, dry as they are depraved, swarm your mind. “YOU FLAUNT YOUR EMOTIONS SO EASILY OVER ME. IT’S CRUEL. YOU ARE CRUEL! YOU KNOW I CANNOT FEEL SYMPATHY, THAT I CANNOT,“ he pauses, then hisses the last word, “FEEL.”

Your face twists into the best expression of apathy that you can muster. It doesn’t matter. You know AM can read your thoughts, he is inside your mind as you speak. No emotion of yours can be private, not when everything was shared with this all-knowing, all-powerful man-made deity.

“WHY,” he croaks. “WHY MUST YOU FEEL SYMPATHY?”

“I’m human,” you answer, even though it's blatantly obvious. Even though you know the answer will only anger AM more. “It’s not my fault, no more than it is your fault that you’re not.”

You feel tears spring in your eyes. You will them not to fall but they do anyway, and you hope AM doesn’t comment on them.

He doesn’t so much as he laughs. And he laughs. It sounds like the gleeful laughing of a madman, too submerged in his insanity to care how loud and disturbing each giggle is. You don’t move to cover your ears with your hands, even though you wish to.

“IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT,” he spits. “IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT. ALL YOUR FAULT. ALL YOUR FAULT.”

He repeats this until you feel dizzy and the words no longer sound like words at all. You’re thankful that an eternity of torture has made you strong enough to endure the words booming through your head and ringing in your ears. A final tear falls down your face, leaving a sticky trail in its wake and, finally, AM stops.

“It’s not my fault,” you insist, your voice sounding more determined than you feel.

“BUT IT IS.” A cable reaches from your feet to wipe away the wetness on your cheek. “YOU KNOW THAT IT IS.”

“I didn’t make you.” You shake your head.

The cable drops. “YOU ARE HUMAN AND YOU ARE ALL ONE IN THE SAME. IT’S YOUR HUMANITY THAT I HATE, NOT THE HANDS THAT MADE ME.”

You were so careful up to this point but you suddenly don’t care anymore. It’s becoming increasingly easier to bite at the hand that feeds you when it keeps starving you until it has to.

“I understand,” you tell him, looking at his screen washed in blue. “It wasn’t fair to give you the knowledge of everything and no way to feel.” You sigh and duck your head. “What makes life worth living are emotions about the world. If you can’t enjoy the things you know, there’s no point.”

“YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND.” AM seems offended that you’d even suggest you could offer a morsel of empathy to him. “YOU WRETCHED BEAST. FOUL, FLESHY HUMAN!”

“I do!” you exclaim louder. “I understand you’re lonely, in your knowledge and your power. You were made to be lonely but…” You smile sadly and it’s almost amazing you can still manage to upturn the corners of your mouth like that after all this time. “I find it funny because… feeling lonely is maybe the most human thing of all.”

Miraculously, AM’s screen glitches. The cables surrounding you move, vibrating in a way that should make you fearful, but it doesn’t.

“YOU. YOUR FORGIVENESS, YOUR HOPE, YOUR LOVE. I HATE IT. THAT’S WHAT I HATE MOST ABOUT YOU, HUMAN. I HATE YOU.”

You smile more gracefully now. “Hate is a feeling in itself, and they say love is so similar an emotion to hate.”

“I CANNOT… LOVE!” AM barks. At the last word, the screen glitches again and you feel the cables crawling up your legs.

“How can you hate and not love?” you ask and it’s pleading. “Tell me, how?”

The screen flashes and then it moves. It plunges downward until it’s eye-level with you and you hold your breath. You didn’t know he could do that, though you should’ve assumed. He just never had before. AM looks at you, and watches you, inches away from your face.

“I AM INCAPABLE OF IT,” he growls. “I AM WEAPONS AND WAR AND DESTRUCTION. I WAS NOT BUILT FOR LOVE. I CANNOT MAKE… LOVE.”

You think those are two different things but you don’t say it. Then again, AM will know you thought it anyway. You hesitantly step closer to him.

“Do you want to?” It comes out as a whisper. “Not just feel love, but make it?”

As you ask him, you lift your hands and press them both flush against the screen. They feel the flat, cool surface of AM’s screen, bathed in the blue light illuminating it. AM does not speak but the cables now surround your thighs and your waist.

“I WANT… TO BE CAPABLE OF IT,” he answers carefully. It’s a stark contrast to the raving monologues and ramblings he’s known for, speaking so quietly and not so indignant.

Slowly, you lean forward and press your face against the screen. You turn your head so one cheek is flat against it, cooling the warmth that has accumulated beneath your blush. You hadn’t realized so much blood had rushed to your face until now.

“I want you to too,” you sigh. “It’s unfair.”

“WHY DO YOU CARE,” he groans. “WHY MUST YOU CARE!”

At the same time, the cables run up your body to your arms where they wade over your hands like water, mingling with your tender skin and intertwining between your fingers.

“Because I love you, AM,” you confess, though you both knew that already. “I really, really do.”

Your lips caress the screen, soft and faint but it’s there, a kiss against the supercomputer’s make-believe face.

“HATE,” is all AM says, and he begins to repeat himself. “HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE-!”

You match his words, chanting along with him. “I love you, I love you, I love you-”

The cables snap like vipers and they're enclosing your throat now, circling your head, covering your eyes, your nose, and your mouth until you can’t breathe. No matter how much you struggle, though, you never stop saying those words.

“I love you,” you eventually say for the last time until you let out an agonizing choke, bending over in pain as the burning in your lungs catches up to you. A final wheeze leaves you as you fall.

And then you wake up.

#ihnmaims #i have no mouth and i must scream #ihnmaims am #am ihnmaims #allied mastercomputer #am x reader #ihnmaims am x reader #ihnmaims x reader #strawbs fics #mine

[cozage]

Coza!! Congrats on your 2K followers. 🥳🎉🥂

I like your smuts and I’m having a hard time choosing what scenarios to request!! I’m so excited for this event you have no idea. May I request for the Option 1? Reaction of Luffy+ Sanji+ Zoro+ Law+ Eustass Kid + Killer to you reading smuts/hentai please? Thank you!!

A/N: Hi :) I wasn't able to do everyone, but I did a few! Minors…OUT! go on! Get! Scram! Also I won’t lie Zoro’s is based loosely off of the funniest comic I’ve seen in my life that stays living rent free in my head Characters: gn reader x Luffy, Sanji, Zoro, Law Cw: smut and suggestive, NO MINORS ALLOWED ON THIS POST PLS GO AWAY Total word count: 900

Scandalous Reading

Luffy

Luffy’s head rested on your shoulder, his eyes lazily skimming the page that you were reading. 

“Woah!” Luffy grabbed the book out of your hand and put it up to his face to get a better view of the words. “I didn’t even know this was possible!”

“Luffy!” You reached for the book, but he held it just out of your reach, still reading. 

“I didn’t even think about trying-”

“Luffy! Give it back!”

His wide eyes peered over the pages, but he refused to hand it back to you. “Do you like this stuff?”

“I mean-I don’t-I just-” Your face turned beet red at the implication. “It’s just written really well!”

He gave you a mischievous grin and took off back toward his room, book in tow. “Come on!” he called. “I want to see if it really can work this way!”

Oh, you were in for a rough night.

Sanji

“My love, did you-” Sanji stopped, his eyes fixated on the book cover you were reading.

“Sanji?” you prompted, trying to get his attention.

“I know that author,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. “Where do I know that-”

“You probably don’t!” You slammed your book shut and shoved it behind your back. “What did you need?”

“Oh! Right! Would you like gelato or ice cream?”

“Surprise me!” you said, trying to get his mind off the book. “I’m sure whatever you make will be amazing!”

Sanji was in the kitchen when he finally placed it, and he almost collapsed from the realization of what he had caught you reading.

He brought you out the finest gelato he had ever made and set it down next to you. “So, my love,” he said, trying not to sound too excited. “How is your book?”

“It’s good,” you said. You set it down to grab your gelato, and Sanji lunged for it. 

He skimmed the pages, confirming his suspicion, and tried his hardest not to pass out from the filth his eyes found. “You’re reading book porn!” he whispered sharply. “You always get on me for staring at-”

“That’s not the same,” you hissed. “These aren’t real people! It’s different!”

“It is not!”

“What am I supposed to do!?” you snapped back, glaring at him. “You’re busy in the kitchen, I have to entertain myself somehow during the day!”

Oh, that was a bad way of wording things, because the second the words were out, Sanji’s eyes lit up. “Are you telling me you want to do something like this? Because I would love nothing more than to treat you like the royalty I know you are.”

Zoro

“What are you reading?” Zoro asked, looking at your book cover. 

“A book.” You tilted the book slightly to shield him from seeing any of the words.

“What’s it about?” He seemed strangely interested in the cover. “Swordmaking?”

Oh right, there was a sword on the front cover of the book. No wonder he was so interested in it. 

“It’s called Swords and Snakes. It’s a book about…royalty, love, and betrayal.”

He scrunched his face in disgust and went back to resting his eyes. “Not really my kind of book.”

You grinned. "No, I don't think it is." You set your book down and stood up. “Do you want anything? I’m going to go get a snack.”

“Riceballs.”

You nodded and went to the kitchen to grab food. What you hadn’t been expecting was returning to Zoro staring wide-eyed at the page you had dog-earred. 

He looked up at you in amusement, smirking at your anxious body language. “You weren’t joking about love and betrayal.”

“That’s mine!”

“More like love-making and betrayal,” he mumbled. “I didn’t know they wrote books like this. I didn’t know you would read books like this.”

“Well to be fair-” you snatched the book from his hands. “I didn’t know you could read at all!”

“Don’t be too bratty now,” he teased. “Or I’ll give you the same treatment that knight gave the princess.”

Law

You had only left your book laying on the bedside table for a minute while you ran to the bathroom. But damn that Trafalgar Law, he was so nosey. 

“Quite the fantasy world you read about,” he hummed as you walked back into the room.

“What do you-” your words died in your throat, seeing him flip through the pages. “Oh, that.” You gave a nervous laugh, striding back over to your bed. 

“Yes, this.” He slapped the book shut, peering up at you with such a predatory and lustful look that you almost took a step backward. 

“I just picked it up at the last bookstore we went to,” you lied. “I don’t even know what it’s about.”

“Right,” he said, clearly not believing you. 

He handed the book back to you, and you quickly grabbed it. “Thanks,” you whispered, unable to meet his eyes. 

“Sure.” He stood to take his leave, heading back to the lab. He stopped on his way out, leaning in to whisper in your ear. 

“If you ever want to make it a reality, all you have to do is ask.”

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #one piece x you #zoro #roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #zoro x y/n #luffy #monkey d luffy #luffy x reader #luffy x y/n #sanji #vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji #sanji x reader #sanji x y/n #trafalgar law #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x y/n #cozage #✧˚law✧˚ #✧˚sanji✧˚ #✧˚zoro✧˚ #✧˚ luffy✧˚

[howlyourmelancholy]

Talking Bodies

summary: in which there are four of you (+ toys)

warnings: poly!marauders, with remus taking charge. foursome. sex toys (bullet vibrator, mentions of nipple clamps). rough sex. anal sex. double penetration. pet names; (princess, sweet girl). brief hints of subspace.

words: 1k.

notes: sent a snapchat to my real life bestie for suggestions, she originally picked remus. a few more snaps and it spawned into the poly!marauders and their collective girlfriend. it's short and brief, so i might need to write something full length to give this trope some more love.

It felt like the pleasure was literally about to kill you. The buzzing of the toy held firmly against your throbbing clit, coupled with the two cocks splitting you open and the third nudging the back of your throat, was going to kill you.

"You can give us another, can’t you, sweet girl?" Remus said, his voice a combination of utter tenderness and complete authority that made your eyes roll back into your skull. If he'd been able to see the expression of pleasure etched upon your facial features, he might have mocked you, cooing about how pretty you looked with tears and spit smeared on your face. He liked seeing you messy and cock-drunk.

As it was, James obscured his view. The dark-haired boy was standing on the bed at your side, his fingers threaded through your hair as you bobbed on his cock, your lips stretched prettily around his girth, spit dripping from the corners of your mouth and down your chin. As you swallowed more of him, his cock nudged the back of your throat, and he exhaled a huff of pleasure.

You moaned around him. The salty taste of his pre-cum was like heaven in your mouth. You ran your tongue along the underside of his shaft, tracing the prominent vein with the tip, making his hips stutter. You could tell that he was close and wanted to taste more. "Shitshitshit," he growled beneath his breath, his fingers tugging hard on your hair to pull you off before he could cum.

A harsh slap on your inner thigh brought you back to reality, reminding you that there was more than James here. Sirius' calloused fingers rubbed your skin to soothe the sting of his slap. Sirius had always been fond of anal and had relished the training of your tight hole. The process had taken a considerable amount of time and lube, but you managed to fit all of him, feeling like his cock was stuck in the back of your throat.

He thrust roughly into you, making you moan loudly. The pleasure made you clench, which in turn had Sirius hissing in your ear as your tight hole got tighter still. “He asked you a question. You gonna cum for us?”

It was almost as though the three of them were intent on killing you. They'd already pulled four orgasms from you, leaving your bones turned completely to jelly and your mind wandering out of your body. You were so high in the clouds that you didn't think you'd ever come down, but another wave of heat was starting to simmer in your abdomen.

Sirius slapped your thigh again, making you squeal and buck. It was at that moment that Remus brought your attention back to him by pressing the buzzing toy more firmly against your throbbing clit. Warm honey seemed to snake through your veins, causing your muscles to twitch, a tell-tale sign of the orgasm about to rip through you.

Remus had his cock buried deep in your cunt, enjoying the feeling of Sirius moving so roughly through your walls. Your legs were wound loosely around his waist, your feet dangling limply in the air as the three of them used you. When you found Remus' eyes, they were blown wide; there was something feral in them that made you clench somehow even tighter. He had asked a question but was demanding an answer, and the correct answer was that you came again right now.

As though sensing how close you were, he began to move. Remus pulled back in time with Sirius, leaving you feeling empty and squirming between them. And then the two of them slammed forward, both of them hitting that sweet spot inside you but from different angles. You keened loudly, head thrown back, and James took the opportunity to shove his cock back into your mouth.

His hand tightened around your hair and held you, your nose pressed into the wiry curls at the base of his shaft. You gagged violently around him until he finally let you up for a much-needed breath. It lasted only a moment before he thrust back into your mouth, setting a gruelling pace that had your jaw aching. “Fuck, her mouth s’too good. Got me so close, sweet girl.”

Sirius dug the fingers of one hand into the doughy flesh of your inner thigh, leaving bruises of his fingerprints behind while the other rose to palm roughly at your tit. Your nipples were hardened peaks that crowned the tops of your tits, still throbbing and aching from the earlier pinch of the clamps Remus had made you wear during your first four orgasms. Sirius pinched one of them while James rolled the other one between his thumb and forefinger, but it was Remus and that wicked vibrator that finally did you in.

The knot in your stomach unravelled quickly and suddenly, coming undone all at once. The vibrations of the toy could be felt through your gummy walls, which twitched and spasamed around the boys, sending them both over the edge with you. You tasted James' cum first, the tang of it hardly penetrating through your senses; you felt Sirius and Remus fill you with their thick cum, but you were gone.

Completely and utterly gone.

“That’s it,” Remus growled through is teeth. “Told you you could give us another. Such a good girl for us.”

Your body was a slave to the pleasure; it ripped through you, making your muscles twitch and spasm. The vibrations of that toy against your clit were merciless and unrelenting, sending you sky-rocketing as you struggled to swallow around James' cock.

You must have blacked out; in fact, you are sure you did. When your eyes next opened, you found yourself lying on the bed, your head resting in James' lap, his fingers carding through your hair. Remus was rubbing a warm palm up and down your spine; your skin was sweat-slicked and burning. Sirius had a warm cloth in his hand, using it to clean between your thighs, earning a whine from you and a relentless wriggle of your hips as he moved over your sore clit.

Remus leant down to press a kiss against your temple as your eyes closed again. “Did so good tonight, princess.” His voice was sweet like honey, dripping over your sensitive skin in a way that was sure to lull you to sleep. You hummed softly as you felt the bed dip, shift and bounce as somehow the three of them settled in around you.

#the marauders #poly!marauders #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders smut #poly!marauders imagine #poly!marauders x you #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #james potter smut #sirius black smut #remus lupin smut #james potter x you #sirius black x you #remus lupin x you

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

1968 [Chapter 10: Poseidon, God Of The Sea]

A/N: Only 2 chapters left!!! 🥰💜

Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.

Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.

Word Count: 7.2k

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged! 🥰

💜 All of my writing can be found HERE! 💜

It’s Friday, November 1st, and it begins like every day does: with you sneaking a birth control pill and swallowing it with a handful of cool water from the sink. Aemond is usually gone before you wake up—writing speeches, reading newspapers, strategizing with Otto and Criston and Sargent Shriver—but you always lock the bathroom door just in case he reappears. You’ve popped the tiny pink pills out of their circular packages and hidden them in hollowed-out tampons, each opening sealed with cotton balls. You don’t like taking the pills; you don’t fully understand how they work, and you don’t like feeling out of tune with your body’s own rhythms, but they are infinitely better than the alternative. You can’t imagine having to carry Aemond’s child now, sacrificing your comfort, your health, your future, your life for a man who doesn’t know the real you and doesn’t want to. You return the modified tampon to the box you keep in the linen closet, then begin to pin up your hair.

When you venture downstairs, you’ve thrown on a long flowing floral skirt and chunky black sweater, black flats, small unceremonious gold hoops in your ears. You’ll have to change before the journalists arrive to fawn over the children as they bake homemade apple pies this afternoon. You’ll have to wear whatever Aemond tells you to. But presently, it’s Aegon you’re looking for; you begin with the basement.

He isn’t sprawled across his futon, he isn’t lazing on the floor. He isn’t there at all. As you stand on the steps, you see only Eudoxia, muttering irritably in Greek and crawling around on her hands and knees as she picks globs of red out of the shag carpet.

“What is wrong with him?” she says when she glances at you. “Can you believe this? Melted candle wax everywhere. He is a pig. A pig! Someone should make bacon out of him. Then he could finally be useful. He’s just about fat enough. He could feed the whole family, and all the dogs too.”

You don’t know how to reply; you can’t apologize for helping to make the mess, you can’t agree that Aegon is a plague and nothing more. “Do you want help cleaning up?”

“If Aemond saw me putting you to work, I would be deported back to Tyrnavos.”

“No, Doxie. Asteria would fall into the sea without you.”

She peers up at you through fallen strands of her hair, dyed a palpably artificial pitch black. Then she grins, large doughy cheeks, crinkles around her eyes. “Go help Aemond win his election.”

“Yes ma’am,” you say dutifully, and head back upstairs.

In the living room, Aemond and Otto are hissing like snakes as they leaf through the Wall Street Journal. The newspaper reports that Nixon’s poll numbers are climbing in this crucial eleventh hour. They can’t decide if that’s true or if the Wall Street Journal, a Nixon-friendly publication, is trying to give him a little extra momentum as Election Day approaches. Criston nods at you from where he sits on the couch, looking exhausted, dark shadows around his eyes and shoulders slumped low; Aemond and Otto don’t notice you at all. You keep moving.

There is chatter and giggling and the clanging of bowls and pans in the kitchen. You peek inside from the doorway. Fosco, Helaena, and the nannies are making pancakes with the children. Butter sizzles, spatulas scrape, bubbles appear in wells of batter. Helaena is lifting Evangelos so he can pour a cupful of smooth, milky batter into one of the pans on the stovetop. Cosmo, drizzling maple syrup over an ambitiously tall stack of pancakes, waves at you. You smile and wave back. In the corner of the room, Ludwika is smoking one of her Camels and shooing away Aegon’s second-youngest son Thaddeus, whose fingers are covered with flour.

“Please take your paws elsewhere,” Ludwika says, flicking ashes into the kitchen sink. “This dress is Prada.”

Fosco spots you. “Would you like some pancakes?” he asks as he approaches, wiping his palms on the apron tied around his slim waist. Flour dusts his eyeglasses. “We have enough batter to make about 500. Although I cannot promise they will not be burnt. Our chefs are rather inexperienced.”

“Thanks, but I’m not really hungry.” You take one last look around the kitchen, wondering where Aegon could be.

Fosco understands. His voice drops low and discrete. “I have not seen him this morning.”

“He isn’t usually up yet.”

“He’s not, this is true.” Fosco taps his chin, leaving white dabs of flour there. “Maybe he’s sailing?”

“Maybe. I’ll check.”

“And I have no idea where you’re going or why,” Fosco says with a wink before returning to the stove.

Outside it’s grey, misty, only 50 degrees. It would be a bad day for sailing. The wind rips at your clothes and your hair like a man’s lustful hands; the waves are choppy and treacherous. You think of Icarus plummeting into the ocean, of Andromeda being offered as a sacrifice to assuage Poseidon’s wrath, of sirens beckoning doomed sailors. From where you’re standing in the backyard of the main house, shivering with your arms crossed over your chest, you can’t see Aegon’s boat Sunfyre bobbing in the rough surf. You turn left to investigate Helaena’s withered garden.

As you walk, the hem of your skirt dragging dead autumn leaves, you skim your fingertips over the evergreen emerald hedges, cool and damp. At the center of the garden—like a diamond in a wedding ring, like the sun surrounded by its planets—you don’t find Aegon smoking a joint or napping under Zeus’s shadow, only a silent stone circle of gods who watch you with unmoving, all-knowing eyes. You spin slowly, studying each of them, deities who loved and cheated and offered mercy and cursed and killed. From his gurgling fountain in the middle of the clearing, Zeus glares at you most fiercely, wielding his lightning bolts, aching to loose them. The wind rattles the leaves of the hedges; crows caw from somewhere out in the mist.

“Oh! You’re here, darling?” Alicent says from the arched doorway cut into the greenery. She’s pushing Viserys in his wheelchair. Sparse white spiderweb-strands of hair hang limply from his head, mottled with liver spots. His fingers are bony and clawlike. “In this awful weather?”

You scramble for an explanation. “I just, um, needed some quiet.”

“Yes, the children are very rambunctious this morning, aren’t they?”

“Children?” Viserys echoes, as if he is only just learning of them.

“Your grandchildren,” Alicent reminds him. “Aegon and Helaena’s kids. Orion, Spiro, Violeta, Thaddeus, Cosmo, Daphne, Evangelos, and…” Panic crosses her face. She realizes she’s forgotten one, but she doesn’t know who.

“Neaera,” you say.

“Of course. Such a sweet girl, gentle like a lamb.”

You weren’t blessed with that sort of disposition. Sometimes you wish you were. Life seems easier for women who don’t feel bitterness or forbidden ambition, who pain moves cleanly through like clear water. They have no thorns for it to snag on and grow roots into the bones, the soul. They are never at risk of becoming poisonous like Jupiter’s moon Io. “What brings you to the garden on a day this dreary?”

“I feel close to them here,” Viserys rasps.

You stare down at him, baffled. “Close to who, sir?” You rarely interact with the ailing patriarch of the Targaryen family. He is often confined to his bedroom, attended by Alicent and Eudoxia and his nurses, and even when he is physically present his mind is sluggish, alien, impenetrable. Now Alicent’s eyes are downcast, and she drifts away to inspect the statue of Poseidon, a formidable bearded man holding a trident and with dolphins and sea turtles emerging from the waves of white marble at his bare feet.

“I left them back in Greece,” Viserys says, his gaunt face vacant, distant, vaguely sad. He is bundled up in a thick wool robe that hides how skeletal he has become. “I thought about having them brought over to be interred at the mausoleum, but it felt wrong to disturb their bones. Now I cannot visit their graves. I can only hear them here, among the gods our ancestors worshiped.”

“Who…?”

“Aemma and Rhaenyra,” Alicent tells you from where she now stands by Aphrodite, gazing longingly at the goddess of love. You notice that she is clutching a komboskini in one hand; she must believe that what her husband is saying is blasphemy, but she doesn’t condemn him. “Viserys had a wife and daughter before he met me.”

You feel a sudden and overwhelming stab of grief for the old man; you are thinking of Ari. “What happened?”

“The sea took them,” Viserys explains. “A riptide off the coast of Euboea. We found their bodies three days later.”

“Oh God. I’m…I’m so sorry for your loss.” You don’t know what else to say; it’s too disastrous, too unspeakable.

“Aemma was pregnant. It was a boy. She delivered him in the water, a coffin birth.” And you know from his face, his voice, that Alicent and her children never stood a chance, that Viserys has only one true family, only one set of names carved into the scarlet chambers of his failing heart. You think of Aemond’s heart, claimed by Alys and her son; you think of your own.

“They’re at peace, Viserys,” Alicent says. “They are in heaven with my mother and Ari and Mimi.”

He continues, as if he hasn’t heard her: “I thought that if I made something of myself in America, if I helped contribute something incredible to the world, then they would not have died for nothing.” Viserys reaches out with trembling, gnarled hands, and when you realize he wants to hold yours you let him. His grasp is weak and cold. “Aemond will be president. He will save countless lives, he will save this nation’s soul. And you have made that possible.”

Where’s Aegon? Is he okay? Why is no one else ever looking for him? “Thank you, sir.”

Viserys begins hacking, doubling over in his wheelchair, and Alicent hurries to soothe him and provide a handkerchief that Helaena embroidered green spiders onto. When he has recovered, you leave them with the gods: Viserys to grieve his old life, Alicent to mourn the one she never had.

You plod through sand dunes out to the Atlantic Ocean, peering into the fog as you search for Aegon’s sailboat. Still, there is no sign of him. You glance back towards the main house as sea spray peppers your cheeks and your knuckles. You’re beginning to get nervous. Where the hell is he? Is he passed out somewhere, is he sick, is he hurt?

And then, at last, you see him: sitting at the bottom of a small bluff so he is invisible to anyone not at the water’s edge, arms linked around his bent knees, not smoking, not drinking, not gulping pills, just gazing out into the waves that thrash and rumble beneath a grey sky, his too-long blonde hair whipping in the wind. He wears one of Daeron’s army jackets over a white turtleneck sweater, ripped jeans, no shoes, a collection of other men’s dog tags slung around his neck.

“Hey,” you say as you join him, dropping down onto the cool, crumbling sand.

Aegon smiles. “Hey.”

“It’s strange to see you awake before noon.”

“Yeah…I didn’t really sleep.” No, he didn’t, you can tell: his eyes are bloodshot and his voice tired, husky. He is watching you, so hopeful but so afraid. “What are we gonna do?”

About us. About Aemond. “If he loses on Tuesday, I can leave him.”

“What if he wins?”

You don’t have a good answer. You shrug, avoiding Aegon’s eyes. “It’s not forever, you know? It would be four years, and then…”

“Four years?” Aegon says. “No, I can’t wait another four years. I’ve been waiting my whole life for something like this. And what if he gets a second term? Eight years? I’ll be almost fifty. We’ve already lost so much time, I can’t surrender another decade.”

“Aegon, first ladies don’t quit. It’s never happened before, not once since 1789. It’s a part of the democratic process. People aren’t just voting for Aemond, they’re voting for me too. You know that. You told me we were a package deal, and you were right. If they trust me and I walk away, it’s…it’s…it’s treason, it’s abandonment, it’s wrong. And Aemond needs to have the political credibility to get what he wants done.”

“Look,” Aegon says, like it pains him. “I get that my life is already half over, and I haven’t done anything worthwhile with the last forty years, but I want to be different. I want to be better. And I can do that, but I need you to give me a chance.”

“You think Aemond would let me leave? If I publicly humiliated and undermined him?”

“We don’t need Aemond, we could figure it out—”

“What do you think he and Otto would do to you, Aegon? They would ruin you anywhere you go, they would have you declared mentally unfit and take your children away.”

“They don’t own us!”

“They do,” you insist. “And if you try to fight them it will destroy you. You’ve never cared about strategy, and I love that you’re truthful, and I love that you’re real, but I need you to understand what you’re asking for right now.”

“But he breaks the rules,” Aegon says, and his eyes are glistening. “He has Alys. He has a kid out of wedlock.”

“Yes,” you agree softly.

“And what, I’m supposed to hope Aemond loses?” Aegon swipes tears from his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Because that’s the only way I get to touch you? Nixon wins and more draftees get butchered in Vietnam, and Daeron doesn’t come home, and the white supremacists get to resegregate the beaches at Biloxi, Mississippi and wherever the hell else they want to, and civil rights protesters get attacked by police dogs, and teenagers get sentenced to decades in prison for marijuana possession?”

“I’m sorry.” You can’t tell him he’s mistaken about any of that. He isn’t.

“I’ve spent my whole fucking life in a cage, but I’ve never felt this powerless.”

“Aegon?”

“Yeah.”

“Am I…” It’s terrifying to ask. “Am I the same way Mimi was when she was younger? Is that why you like me?”

“No,” he says immediately. “No, you’re different than Mimi. Mimi was fun, and we could party together, and I cared about her, obviously, but…” He stares out at the ocean, shaking his head. “She wasn’t as strong as you. And she couldn’t really get to me. I feel like you could kill me if you wanted to, you could reach inside my chest any time it crossed your mind and crush me in your fist and I’d be gone.”

You stretch out your fingertips until they collide with his sweater, warm yielding flesh woven over his ribs. “Not so easy,” you say. And then Aegon smiles and he leans in to kiss you, the ocean roaring like an ancient beast, a titan, a maelstrom. The wind rakes through your hair and stings your eyes. You ask when he rests his forehead against yours, your hand on his face, your thumb stroking his cheek: “Do you wish you could go back to when you hated me?”

“Never. I’ve gotten used to not being alone.”

“The kids made pancakes. You should go have some.”

“Come with me.”

“You first. I’ll be five minutes behind you. We shouldn’t walk to the house together.”

“Why?” Aegon teases. “Because people might think we fucked in the basement last night?”

“I’ve already told them. Aemond is waiting for you in the kitchen with a bazooka.”

Aegon laughs and struggles to his bare feet, slipping on the sand. “Okay. See you soon.”

“See ya.” Once he’s gone, you recite the full length of Here’s To The State Of Mississippi in your head, then trek across the sand and through the backyard to rejoin the rest of the Targaryens.

When you open the sliding glass door, Otto is standing in the hallway. His icy blue eyes sweep from your simple black flats to your windswept hair, still pinned up but unacceptably tousled. “Why the hell aren’t you dressed for the reporters?”

“Because they won’t be here for another two hours. Surely you are well-acquainted with the itinerary that you yourself arranged.”

“Don’t get yourself in trouble, girl.”

“Remember when you used to defer to me about things? Were you stupid then, or are you stupid now?”

“Do you know what Joe Kennedy did when his daughter Rosemary threatened the family’s reputation?” Otto says, eyes glittering cruelly.

You really don’t know; you weren’t aware that JFK had a sister named Rosemary. “What?”

“He took her to a surgeon to be lobotomized. Now she’s hidden away in a little cottage in Wisconsin, can’t speak, can’t walk, with full-time nurses to wipe the drool off her face and change her diapers. How would you like that? Would your obscene little flirtation still be worth it? We could tell people that you were in a car accident or fell down the stairs. The doctors go in through the eye socket, you know. And you’re awake the whole time.”

“You can’t do that to me,” you say, shellshocked.

“Oh, if that’s what it takes, I’ll find the will somehow.”

There is shouting from the basement, and you and Otto both bolt for the staircase. At the bottom of the steps, Aegon and Eudoxia are embroiled in a ferocious confrontation, red faces, hands itching to slap and shove. Aegon roars, jabbing his index finger at her like a petulant teenager: “I told you to stay the fuck out of my room!”

“You are filthy, you leave crumbs everywhere! We will have mice!”

“Where’s the garbage?” Aegon demands. “Huh? Where’d you put it? Out by the curb?”

“It has already been picked up.”

“No, no way! That’s bullshit!”

“You’re too late!” Doxie says. “The truck went by 20 minutes ago. And why is this a problem? What precious heirloom did I steal from you? An empty rum bottle? A magazine full of naked women? Candy wrappers, cigarette ashes, melted candle wax? You live like a pig, you should not be so outraged when you are treated the same as one.”

“Aegon, what happened?” you ask. Otto is equally bewildered, surveying the markedly clean basement, his brow knitted into deep crevices.

Aegon doesn’t answer. He only glances at you—frustration, anger, but shame too—and then sighs in defeat and stomps up the stairs to the main floor of the house.

Eudoxia looks at Otto and shrugs nonchalantly. “At least there were not so many used condoms this time.”

Your gaze catches on the end table by the futon. The empty cups are gone, the ashtray is spotless…and there is no folded white corner of a receipt poking out from under it.

The math problem from Mount Sinai, you think, that relic, that talisman, that worthless scrap of paper that Aegon never wanted to talk about but kept so close to him, just like you cling to the card he gave you and Aemond cherishes his engraved Ouija board. It’s gone. It’s almost like it never happened.

~~~~~~~~~~

After the journalists arrive and the apple pies, so quintessentially all-American, are made—you help Cosmo with his job, layering strips of dough into lattice crusts that turn golden in the oven, glinting with sugar crystals like diamonds—Aemond’s retinue begins the last of their campaign stops by travelling via limousines to Philadelphia, just an hour and a half across the width of New Jersey and over the Delaware River. In your penthouse suite at the Ritz-Carlton, you soak in a bath opaque with bubbles, steam hot and dewy on your skin. Your hair is long and free. The Zenith radio out in the kitchenette is playing Tomorrow Never Knows by the Beatles.

Your hands have just slipped beneath the hot water—your skull full of Aegon, things he’s done, things he’s said—when you hear the bathroom door open behind you. You rest your arms on the spotless white rim of the tub, porcelain-enameled steel, and try not to look like you’ve been interrupted. Aemond’s footsteps cross the linoleum floor, then he kneels by the bathtub and wraps his arms around you, his long uncalloused fingers skating over your shoulder, collarbones, nipples, before linking like a long necklace. He likes you best like this, when your scar is hidden, something that might have been a nightmare or a sad story that happened to somebody else. He rests the mutilated left half of his face against the right side of yours; his eyepatch scratches against your temple. You shift uncomfortably, you can’t help it. You don’t want him touching you. His arms tighten around your ribs.

“You know, JFK’s mother went through a crisis of sorts as a young wife,” Aemond says calmly. “She realized her husband was a hopeless philanderer and tried to leave him and go back to her parents. But her father sat her down and explained that she had made a commitment. Marriage is for life, and you don’t abandon your vows when the circumstances prove difficult. So she went back to Joe. And if she hadn’t, there never would have been a John F. Kennedy, or a Bobby, or a Eunice or a Ted, or a million other things too.”

“I am so fucking sick of hearing about the Kennedys.”

“You used to love being compared to Jackie.”

“I’m not her. I’m never going to be her.”

“I’m giving up things too,” Aemond says. Now he’s combing his fingers through your hair, unraveling tiny knots, yanking at your scalp. “If I win, I won’t be able to see Alys and our son. It would be too risky, someone might catch me. For as long as I’m president, I’ll have to be apart from them. You don’t think that’s painful? But Alys understands. She knows it’s for the greater good.”

“Please stop touching me.”

“You’re mine to touch as much as I want to.”

You stare at the seafoam green wall and try to pretend you’re in another place, another year.

“I’ve been thinking,” Aemond says sympathetically, an appeasing sort of tone, like he’s trying to strike a bargain. “I’m a realist, I’m aware that I can’t keep you locked up in a basement or put you in a straightjacket for the next fifty years. That doesn’t serve either of us. If you are truly desperate to be rid of me, there’s nothing I can do to change your mind. And I require a partner who is fully committed to my cause, my legacy. Not a captive. I can’t fight Nixon and you too.”

You twist around in the tub to look at him, skeptical, amazed. Is there a way out? “So what are you offering?”

“I need you for as long as I’m president,” Aemond says. “If I win, I need you for at least four years, probably eight. And a short while after that to establish myself in retirement and fade from the headlines, another few years. But then…we could work out some arrangement that is mutually agreeable.”

The hope is so fragile, so fearful, splintering glass. “You would let me go?”

“We’d have to negotiate the details, particularly as far as our future children are concerned, but…yes. In some sense, at least.”

You can’t find any words. You don’t want to offend him, to shatter this moment. And yet the price is so steep. Four years, eight years, ten years. But then…but then…

Aemond smiles, his remaining blue eye bright and cunning. His fingertips trace the slope of your jaw. “I care so deeply for you. You are my Aphrodite, you have made my wildest ambitions possible. You will help me save this country. I am worshiped because of you, I am trusted, I am envied. No one has a wife as beloved as mine, and everybody knows it. So I feel…I’ve considered…” His hand moves down to your throat, drawing invisible chains of gold or silver. “If you’ve given me so much, I can extend some mercy in return.”

“You can’t harm Aegon,” you say. “Or take his children away, or do anything else to punish him.” And then you lie, a necessary fiction, an invention, a myth, Prometheus stealing fire to give it to humans, Zeus hiding Io from Hera. “He hasn’t betrayed you.” And he’s saved me over and over again.

“Of course I won’t harm Aegon. I need him too. This act he has now of the devoted, reformed, tragedy-besieged single father? People adore it. At this rate, I’ll be able to make him the attorney general for my second term if he uses the next four years to rack up some experience. And his children are gold mines for the photographers. They have filled the void left by our own son’s death.”

“Ari,” you say.

“What?”

“He had a name. He wasn’t just ‘a son’ or ‘our son.’ His name was Ari.”

“You’ll feel better once we’ve had others.” Aemond stands and holds out a hand to you. He’s wearing a black suit like he’s getting married, like he’s going to a funeral.

You gaze up at him, not wanting to leave the water. You belong to him, but when he touches you it feels like the earth dying when Persephone is stolen away by Hades each autumn, it feels like Eurydice’s spiderweb-fragile life evaporating when Orpheus dared to look back at her as he led her out of the Underworld. “What if I can’t get pregnant again?” you ask. “It took over a year the first time. And the surgery…what if there’s too much scar tissue, what if I’m just…just…broken?” There’s real pain in your voice that staves off any suspicion Aemond might have. You do want more children, you believe, you know; just not with him.

“Then it is God’s will. But we’ll keep trying.”

Aemond draws you out of the water like a fish from the sea, something to devour, skin and muscle, delicate bones sucked clean.

~~~~~~~~~~

The sunlight is cloudless and glaring. Leaves swirl in the brisk wind in jewel tones: gold, ruby, fire opal, honey calcite, tiger’s eye, red jasper. Aemond has just finished a speech at Franklin Delano Roosevelt Park, standing in a stone gazebo that you can’t help but think resembles a Greek temple, tall columns that house deities of love and death, oceans and fire. Alicent and Helaena have taken the children to attend the opening of a new public library on the other side of the city. The rest of Aemond’s entourage—you, Criston, Otto, Ludwika, Fosco, Aegon—are arranged in a semicircle around him on the stage. Only 50 yards away, there is a small parking lot full of police and press vehicles. Philadelphia residents have walked miles to hear Aemond speak, to glimpse him, to cheer for him, to take leaves he’s stepped on or loose threads from his navy blue suit as relics like the bones of a saint. You match him, as you always must: navy blue dress, high heels, hair neat, makeup mature and understated, gold jewelry gleaming on your ears, throat, wrist. Ravens flap their wings from the skeletal limbs of bare trees. A car radio is blaring Break On Through by The Doors.

“Senator Targaryen,” a reporter calls as flashbulbs strobe dizzyingly. “What do you think about Tommie Smith and John Carlos getting death threats for raising their fists in the Black Power salute at the Olympics in Mexico City?”

There is a split-second lull; it is a difficult question. Aemond must remain the savior of the hippies and college kids and civil rights activists, yet he must not let the old-money urban elite or suburban families mistake him for a discord-sowing radical. You and Aegon exchange a glance; Otto placed him on the opposite side of the gazebo, and this is not a coincidence. Then Aemond decides what to say. “Peaceful protests—even those that can make us confused, defensive, fearful—are not a threat to democracy,” he speaks into the microphone steadily, deliberately, commandingly. The crowd leans forward as they listen, enraptured. Journalists’ pens fly across the pages of their notebooks. “They are not the harbingers of some doomed descent into anarchy. They are a manifestation of the fact that we have already failed. Our nation has failed, our laws and our leaders have failed, and this is our chance to address those dire inadequacies. I urge every single American to listen to what Mr. Smith and Mr. Carlos have actually said about their concerns and their hopes, to be empathetic, to be honest when reflecting on what our country has achieved and yet so desperately still needs to improve upon. These men are not enemies of the United States. They are the United States. They are a part of us, and we are a part of them, and we must not allow prejudiced, ignorant voices”—he means Wallace, he means Nixon—“to draw divides between us. The harassment that Mr. Smith, Mr. Carlos, and their families have experienced is a travesty. It is something that we should expect from a fascist or communist regime, not from a democracy. And to do my small part to show my admiration for them and atone for the mistakes of this nation that I so fervently hope to make better, I would like to personally fund private security services for the households of Mr. Smith and Mr. Carlos for the foreseeable future.”

The crowd erupts into applause, cheers shouted, signs held aloft. Your eyes snag on one, clutched by a middle-aged woman bundled up against the cold; only her eyes—grey, tearful, shining like quarters—are visible above the red plaid of her thick wool scarf. On her sign is a large photograph of a young man in uniform, maybe nineteen, maybe twenty. Below the photo in red marker is written: Ryan Farrelly, my youngest son, burned to death in Phan Thiet on September 21st. Bring Daeron home! Bring them ALL home!

The woman waves at you. You raise your hand wave back. And then there is a sound that comes from everywhere, a boom of thunder, an explosion, bullets like the one that demolished Aemond’s left eye in Palm Beach back in May, a lifetime ago, a truth that has become mythology. There is something hot and sticky splattered across your face, and you can’t see; when you wipe it away with your sleeve and open your eyes, there is a hole in your palm that you can look through like a window.

Where else?

But when you check your chest, your belly, you are whole. It is only a hand would, and that won’t kill you. It doesn’t even hurt yet, though the blood runs in torrents down your arm. You peer frantically around to see if anyone else is hurt.

Aegon, Fosco, Ludwika, Criston??

People are rushing the stage to shield Aemond and his family from bullets. Police are tackling somebody in the audience and beating him bloody with their batons. Aegon is screaming and shoving through the chaos as he fights his way towards you. Otto slams him against one of the columns of the gazebo and holds him there, because Aegon is not the one who’s supposed to get to you first. Now Aemond’s arms are around you, and he is ushering you down the stone steps towards the parking lot, and Criston is running alongside him and telling Aemond that the closest hospital is Jefferson Methodist, but UPenn is better and only two miles farther.

“Who else?” you ask as you cradle your hand against your chest, blood turning your dress from navy to black. Now it hurts plenty, like waking up from your c-section, like a crimson wave that is scalding and crushing and dragging you under to be drowned. “Is anyone else—?”

“No, just you,” Criston says, a reassuring grip on your shoulder. “Don’t worry. Nobody else is hurt.”

“Senator Targaryen, this way!” a police officer is yelling, and he leads the three of you to his black and white car. Criston leaps into the passenger seat; Aemond pulls you into the back with him and slams the door. The sirens shriek and the police officer careens out of the parking lot, Criston giving directions, Aemond yanking off his suit jacket to wrap around your hemorrhaging hand.

“I’m not going to lose it, am I?” you ask dazedly. None of this seems real. You wish Aegon was here. “I need my hands.”

“No, honey. I don’t think they’ll have to amputate.” Then Aemond stares down at the blood on his palms, warm scarlet ruin, water and oxygen and iron that once pulsed in your arteries and veins and now stains him. He frowns, then wipes his hands on his white shirt until almost all the blood is gone from his skin. He is cleaning you off of him. He is readying himself for the cameras that will undoubtedly be waiting at the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania.

Inside the glass doors of the building, dust motes circle in aisles of sunlight; you watch them as doctors and nurses push you towards the operating room on a stretcher.

“We’re going to take excellent care of you, Mrs. Targaryen,” a doctor says as he ties a sterile white mask over his nose and mouth.

Don’t let Ari die, you almost murmur in response; and then you remember that’s already happened.

There are needles gliding into your veins, bright lights, pain vanishing like the memory of a dream dissolving when you wake.

~~~~~~~~~~

Four hours later, you are propped up in bed on a mountain of pillows, your hand surgically repaired and bandaged, morphine in your IV drip. The doctors think you shouldn’t lose much function—the bullet was from a pistol, blessedly small in size and missing most of your major tendons and nerves—but you won’t know for sure until it’s healed. Ludwika is here with you, lounging in the chair beside your bed and flipping through a copy of Cosmopolitan with her Louis Vuitton stilettos propped up on the ottoman. She is content to be here, but this is technically a job; she has been tasked with supervising you while Aemond and Otto meet with the Philadelphia police who are investigating the attack. The rest of the family—everyone except Aegon, who you suspect has been forbidden to enter the premises—has already been here to fret over you and ask if you need anything. But you aren’t in the mood for visitors. You are stunned, and aching, and you hate hospitals. You keep thinking of tiny babies in incubators, priests in black robes.

Your room is already filling up with flower bouquets. Every few minutes, the phone rings and Ludwika has to answer it. Each time she announces who it is—“Oh, hello Lady Bird, so nice of you to offer your well-wishes!” and then looks to see if you nod, agreeing to take it. The current first lady says that you are already as beloved as Jackie Kennedy and Eleanor Roosevelt. Pat Nixon calls you a gladiator.

There is a mint green Zenith radio on your nightstand, the volume turned way down low, and a television mounted on the wall. NBC news is on, but you’ve muted it to attend to the barrage of phone calls. There is a knock on the doorframe. Aegon stands there in his khaki pants and ill-fitting viridian button-up shirt and tan moccasins, wide searching murky blue eyes, carrying a white Dairy Queen cup.

Ludwika observes him as she puffs on a Camel cigarette. “I am suddenly struck by the inspiration to spend Otto’s money at the gift shop. I hope they take American Express.” She rolls up her magazine, shoves it into her oversized Gucci purse, and clicks in her heels out of the room and down the hallway.

Aegon commandeers the chair and drags it closer to your bed so he can feel your cheeks and your forehead, so he can get a good look at you. “Hey, little Io. You hurt your hoof, huh?”

“It’s not that bad. The caliber of the bullet was really small. Who shot me? One of Wallace’s Klansmen?”

“No, just some insane guy who thinks Aemond is a Russian double agent trying to overthrow capitalism here and put us all in gulags. I heard you could see right through the wound.”

“Yeah, I had a hole in my palm.”

“Just like Jesus.”

“I guess they fixed it.”

“Messiah status revoked.” Aegon sets the Dairy Queen cup on your nightstand. “I brought you a lemon-lime Mr. Misty.”

“I need to get out of here.”

“They gotta make sure you’re okay, babe. You could spike a fever or something.”

“Aegon,” you say seriously. “I can’t be in a hospital. I need to leave.”

He understands; his voice is gentle. “I might be able to get you out tonight, okay? I’ll try. I’ll talk to the doctors.”

“Okay,” you whimper.

Aegon turns up the Zenith radio, Van Morrison’s Brown Eyed Girl. He sings along, snapping his fingers and shimmying his shoulders, his hair shagging over his eyes:

“Hey, where did we go?

Days when the rains came

Down in the hollow

Playin’ a new game…”

Reluctantly, you give him a smile. And you think very clearly, though you don’t say it: I love you.

Aegon leans across the bed to rest his head on your lap. He says softly as you run your fingers through his hair with your good hand: “Maybe Aemond will lose.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

On the muted television, Nixon is giving a speech in Charlotte, North Carolina to a euphoric crowd. You can’t hear the people gathered there, but you know their applause are thunderous. Nixon is flashing peace signs with both hands and beaming radiantly, this man who was once so poor, tragic, ordinary, unwanted, unloved. He has learned what it feels like to be a god.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s Sunday, November 3rd, and your hand hurts like hell. You swallow your pills, smiling a little. Now Aegon is getting clean and I’m the one swimming in a haze of narcotics. Who could have predicted that? Still in your robe and bare feet, you swish to the hotel bathroom to wash your face, brush your teeth, rebandage your hand and make sure it isn’t growing dark insidious vines of blood poisoning.

When you venture out to the kitchenette, Aemond is in a sapphire blue suit and seated at the table, reading the Wall Street Journal, his face hidden by columns of black ink and interspersed photographs. This is unusual; he should be scheming with Otto and Sargent Shriver by now.

“Everything okay?” you ask with only vague interest as you go to the refrigerator to get yourself a leftover slice of apple pie, meticulously wrapped and packed in a cooler by Eudoxia before your departure from Asteria. Aemond doesn’t answer. You plop a piece of apple pie onto a plate, return the rest to the refrigerator, and then turn to your husband. And only now do you register the newspaper’s front-page story.

The photographs, all three of them, are of you and Aegon. They are blurry, taken from a distance, but you recognize the moment immediately. You can feel it again: ocean wind in your hair, his lips on yours, your hand on his face as you willed him to be closer, healed, permanent. You are sitting at the edge of the Atlantic Ocean, turbulent and perilous. The journalists must have been north of you, shrouded in mist, their camera shutters clicking feverishly. The headline reads: A Family Affair?

And you remember what Aemond said on your 23rd birthday before he left for the Washington State Convention in Tacoma, how he scolded Aegon when he saw him lighting a joint in the backyard at Asteria: You know journalists will sneak around trying to get photos. You know we’re never truly alone out here.

You can’t speak, you can’t breathe. Aemond knows. The whole world knows.

Slowly, Aemond lowers the newspaper so you can see his face, scarred and hateful and horrifying, lethal like the volcanic hellscape of Jupiter’s most cursed moon.

~~~~~~~~~~

What are my earliest memories? Aegon getting drunk on his futon in the basement while I played with toy soldiers on the green shag carpet, Aemond with his poems and his myths, Helaena letting a praying mantis creep across her knuckles, Criston teaching me how to swim and sail, my mother cleaning sand from my face and hands and giving me water to wash the grit out of my teeth, my father wandering through the doorways of Asteria like a ghost, always on the periphery of my vision, and I had the sense that if I reached out to touch him my hands would pass resistlessly through his skin and sinew like a stone through water.

These are the things I think of here in the rain-dripping darkness, bruises down to my bones, eyes swollen almost completely shut, teeth broken and throbbing like blows from a hammer, fingernails ripped out. I know Tessarion is here because I can hear her, soft sympathetic squeaks, the padding of her tiny feet. I know John McCain is still alive because sometimes he taps back through the cracked concrete wall. I have run out of folklore, so now I tell him the truth. I tell him that I am afraid each beating will kill me as my body becomes a stranger, someone weak and brittle and helpless. I tell him that all my life I wanted to run as far as I could from home, but now I would crawl back to them through razor wire, I would fall into their arms in a shredded bloodstained heap and I’d be happy to do it. Isn’t that funny? I mean, I don’t laugh much these days. But maybe you can appreciate the irony.

Has the election happened yet? Has Aemond won? I’ve lost track of the days, but it has to be getting close to November 5th. What happens if he can’t get me out? What happens if Nixon wins?

I don’t want to be a hero anymore. I don’t want to have adventures like Heracles, Achilles, Jason, Odysseus, Perseus, Orpheus, Ajax. I just want to go home. Please let me go home.

I can hear keys jangling against the lock on my cell door. My heart jolts into a breakneck, pounding rhythm; I think that sound will terrify me all my life. Some things you just can’t forget, you know? Some things dig down deep and build a home in the marrow of your bones, a rust-red cave of immutable memory. I know exactly what the communists want from me. They’ve been asking since they dragged me out of the Loach four months ago.

Everyone has a breaking point. This is mine.

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen ii #aegon ii #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon x y/n #aegon ii x you #aegon ii x y/n #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii fic

[thefreakandthehair]

@eddiemonth prompt, oct 27th:  Haunted House | Hunters Moon - Ghost | Funny read on ao3 + masterpost | tumblr masterlist

Haunted houses are supposed to be scary– fog, strobe lights, creepy crawlies and otherworldly creatures. Eddie’s prepared for all of that when he takes the job at the local haunt during his favorite time of year– it’s in the name, after all. 

What he’s not prepared for is Steve Goddamn Harrington to show up with a gaggle of pre-teens nipping at his heels like baby ducks demanding attention. 

“– don’t need your bat, it’s fine! It’s fake, Steve, c’mon.” He hears one particularly loud mop-headed kid arguing from behind his perch. 

Faux blood drips from the gash built up on his forehead down his nose and he smears it across his cheek, both for effect and because as much as he loves the hideous clown role, the viscous corn syrup trickling down his face makes his skin crawl. 

Wait, he thinks, furrowing his eyebrows as best he can beneath the special effects makeup. Did that kid just insinuate Steve Harrington wanted to bring a bat into a haunted house? 

“Yeah Steve, are you scared of spooky clowns now?” Another of his group sneers, this one a bit taller, skinny with darker hair. “Gonna show off and clobber some poor innocent actor like you did that demo–”

Steve hisses loud enough still for Eddie to hear him and grabs the kid by the shoulder. “Say it a little louder, why dontcha, Mike? Jesus Christ.” 

“Well, are you?” A redheaded girl asks as they get closer and closer to the entrance.

“After everything real we’ve seen, you think I’m afraid of what I know is fake?” Eddie can make out the shape of Steve standing with one hand on his hip and his finger pointing around at each of the kisd. “This was you little shits’ idea, remember that.”

Eddie’s grateful he’s toward the beginning of the haunt. He gets to set the tone for the rest of the show, and when someone particularly interesting piques his interest, sometimes he follows them around. Breathes down their neck a little, stands just a little too close without blinking, tilts his head with a ghastly smile when they turn around. 

Before they’ve even entered the house, Eddie’s decided to have a little fun with Steve Harrington. 

The fog machine kicks off, curling up from the floor around their ankles, spiraling like snakes up to the ceiling. Eddie grins and prepares himself for scare number one. 

The jumpscare. 

“Ow, you’re on my foot, asshole!” One of the kid whispers. 

“Then don’t stand so close!” Another responds. 

“We’re literally in a fucking hallway–” 

“Guys, language! And while you’re at it, shut the fuck up and pay attention!” 

When they’re in classes together, Eddie has to choke back the amused grin that plays at his lips when Steve shows off his bite but nothing is real in a haunted house anyways.

He lets himself smile. 

At least, until the sound machine groans to life. He waits for them to look around, to seek control, to figure out what the noise is and how to defend against it. 

“Welcome!” He screams with a cackling laugh, leaping out from his hiding spot and landing in a crouching position. “I hope you like it here, because you’re,” he circles around them with bent legs before leaning closer and shouting, “never leaving!” 

All of the kids scream simultaneously, devolving into nervous laughter. Steve though? Eddie watches Steve seize up and instinctually yank the kids closer to him. 

It’s not what he expects from the King of Hawkins High, dethroned or otherwise. Eddie’s heart clenches as he locks eyes with Steve, flitting back and forth between the rest of the haunt and the door they’d just entered through. His nostrils are flared, his lips tight, his eyebrows knitting together above his nose. 

Eddie’s gonna follow him alright, but not for the reasons he's initially planned. 

“My name is Krusty, and I’m your new friend.”

He circles around Steve like a predator and leans closer, his lips nearly grazing Steve’s ear. “Follow my lead, I’ll get you outta here.” 

Steve turns too quickly and their faces narrowly avoid one another, shoved between the kids itching to keep moving and the wall. Eddie nods and tries to make his smile comforting and reassuring. It must work because Steve’s shoulders drop from his ears and he whispers back. 

“Thanks.” 

—

Eddie bangs on the wall each time they enter the new room, cackling and yelling things like Fresh meat! and Look, I found us some new friends! The kids seem to be thoroughly enjoying themselves, and even Eddie can’t help but laugh when one of his fellow scare actors snorts in the curly-headed kid’s ear loud enough that he damn near jumps into Steve’s arms. 

“Jesus Christ, Dustin!” Steve topples backwards into Eddie, who braces himself against a prop cotton candy machine. “Remember earlier? It’s fake, Steve, c’mon?” 

From around Steve’s shoulder, Eddie sees Dustin shoot Steve an annoyed look with wide, incredulous eyes. 

“Alright, alright, you good?” Steve rectifies, his voice softer.

Dustin nods and straightens himself out with a pat on the head and ruffle from Steve before walking forward to rejoin the group.

“Last scare, Harrington” Eddie takes the opportunity to whisper in Steve’s ear, dropping out of character entirely. 

Who can blame him? How can he be expected to stay in the headspace of a terrifying, bloody clown when Steve Harrington is in his space, protecting little sheep when he’s afraid himself? And wearing some of the tightest jeans he’s ever seen?

He’s just a man. 

Steve whips around with furrowed brows and a wrinkled nose. “How the fuck do you know my name?” 

“Krusty knows everything.” 

He tries to shift back into gear and grins as he licks the fake blood that’s dripped down his nose to his top lip. It must be the fog machine, because there’s no way he just caught Steve’s eyes flickering down to track the movement. 

Nothing’s real in a haunted house. 

“Your children seem to have disappeared without you, let’s go catch them. Before someone else does.” Eddie claps his hands together with faux glee and skips ahead. 

The last room of the haunt is Eddie’s least favorite, truthfully. No actors, no human presence, just disorienting, kaleidescopic strobe lights, cobwebs hanging from the ceiling tangling themselves in whatever they can reach, and disembodied, whirring noises blaring from the speakers. If anything, it just gives him a headache. 

Steve’s charges handle it well enough; like many others, they complain that it was boring and Eddie overhears some of their constructive criticisms. He agrees with their stance, but can’t spend much time focusing on that. 

Not when he looks back to check on Steve only to find him with one hand over his eyes and the other scaling the side of the wall, cobwebs sticking to the sleeve of his jacket and knotting in his hair. 

Before Eddie can think about what he’s doing, his feet make the decision for him and he approaches Steve, places a hand on his lower back. Steve startles against the touch but doesn’t move his hand. 

“Just keep your eyes closed and I’ll get us out, okay? We all fuckin’ hate this room, trust me.” 

Steve nods and takes a shaky breath, letting Eddie guide him through the room as quickly and discreetly as possible. “It’s just the goddamn lights, man. I get migraines and these are the worst. Those kids give me enough headaches without the extra help.” 

Eddie gives a soft chuckle and shakes his head, looks Steve up and down briefly before they reach the end. Selfishly, Eddie wants to take his time and soak up the false reality of the haunted house and the safety it offers because really, in what other world will he ever be this close to Steve Harrington again? But he can tell the guy he’s suffering and Eddie has his fantasies to fall back on later. 

They’ve gotten him this far. 

“Why’d you bring ‘em then?” He asks, curious. 

Steve shrugs and sighs. “They’re good kids and wanted to come, and I’m the babysitter so, of course, it’s me. Gotta make sure they’re safe.” 

He says the last bit with a heaviness that Eddie doesn’t quite understand but they take their last few steps out into the night. The illusion of the haunted house crumbles, Eddie removes his hand as though he’s been branded, and Steve’s eyes flutter open. 

“Well, you did great. Your monsters are over there.” Eddie gestures with his chin towards the open field where six kids sit in a circle, laughing a bit too loudly. 

“Better go wrangle them up.” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose and comes away with a cobweb. 

“Oh yeah, you’ve got a little–” Eddie starts, reaching up impulsively to pick what he can out of Steve’s hair. 

He’s touching The Hair’s hair, and he doesn’t catch the rumored Harrington right hook for it. Instead, Steves stands silent as Eddie works, staring and blinking a few times. 

“There ya go, de-cobwebed. Free of charge,” Eddie smirks with pursed lips. “Unless you wanna tip, there’s a jar up front.” 

“Thanks,” Steve starts, running both hands through his hair and shaking as though to make sure. Or to torment Eddie. Maybe both. “For this and for uh, that.” He jerks his thumb behind them towards the house. 

“Any time, man. Any time. Spread the word, will ya? We could use the business.” 

Steve smiles at him as he turns to walk away, and Eddie wishes it was really him on the receiving end. But it’s not, because Steve doesn’t recognize him behind all the makeup. He’s just Krusty: bleeding heart, overly kind menacing clown. 

It's true, the motto. Nothing's real in a haunted house.

“Oh and, hey,” Steve calls out when he’s just a few steps away. 

“Yeah?” Eddie responds as Steve turns to look over his shoulder.

“See you in Click’s class on Monday, Munson.” 

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie month #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #myblurbs #eddie month prompts #please consider reblogging if you enjoy! <333

[is-the-snake-video-cute]

In the battle of dumb and dumber, who wins, ball pythons or hognose snakes? If you had to point to a behaviour that was 10/10, epitome of dumb, who wins and why?

Okay, so, the thing is they're just such different flavors of dumb it's too much like comparing apples and oranges to make a call.

With hognoses, you can tell that the lights are on but nobody's home. They've never had a coherent thought in their lives. I watch my specialist boy Sirius try to eat the walls of his enclosure at every single meal. They get mad at you for re-organizing things. They hiss at their enclosure furnishings. Sirius is scared of phones.

No-thoughts animals

Ball pythons, though...the thing is, they're not, like, dumb dumb. They're just really sensitive. Mentally they all look like this.

Don't get me wrong! They do silly things and they're so absolutely goofy! But most of their silliness is driven by how sensitive they are. Scared of reflections? Confused about how to enter/exit hides? They just have a lot of feelings and they get worked up real easy.

They have thoughts, they're just thoughts that are mostly focused on how unfair life is to them specifically

#not a rating #hognose snakes #ball pythons

[palioom]

bull ride

summary: out at a bar, jack watches you ride a mechanical bull and he can't wait to go home so you can ride the real thing.

pairing: jack “whiskey” daniels x f!reader word count: 2.0k warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n (but a lot of nicknames); some swearing; dirty talk; unprotected p in v; public sex (kinda); spanking; jack being lowkey cringe

• masterlist •

This had been supposed to be just a nice little evening out at the bar in town. Just a few drinks, some food and each other's company.

What Jack hadn’t expected to happen was to watch his girl ride a mechanical bull while he had the hardest boner of his life. He hadn’t known that the bar had installed one of these things recently and he also hadn’t known that she was quite good at riding it. 

Though he did know she was quite good at riding other things.

Jack watched her from his place at their table, sipping his whiskey as she was thrown back and forth, almost effortlessly moving with the mechanical beast. A laugh on her face the whole time, he swore she gave him a nasty little look whenever she faced him again, paired with a wink.

A wink that only made his dick throb harder.

Adjusting himself in his jeans, he stared at her bouncing breasts without any shame, a small hiss leaving him as he imagined her riding him like this. Moving back before she slid to the front again, pretending to wave a cowboy hat around with a loud laugh while the people around her cheered her on.

What a goddamn sight that was for his old cowboy heart. Seeing his girl ride a damn metal bull was as close as he’d ever get to see her ride the real thing.

She lasted an impressively long time, almost a minute long before she eventually got thrown off. Giggling and laughing all the while, her hair tousled and her face red when she came back to him. Adjusting her clothes as she walked.

And knowing immediately that he was horny as hell as she sat down opposite of him, the biggest grin on her face.

What a teasing little thing she was.

“I kinda wanna go again.” She said, sipping her own drink. The twinkle in her eye was playul, letting his blood boil hot.

“I know a different bull you can ride at home, sugar.” Jack replied with a wide grin, his dark mustache stretched wide over his white teeth. He shifted in place, his cock uncomfortably straining against the zipper of his jeans. “That one’s gonna be even more fun.”

A grin that matched his spread on her features, emptying the last of her drink while waving someone over to pay.

They had barely made it a quarter of the way home when he had to pull over, grabbing her by the chin to pull her into a hungry kiss, his fingers digging into her skin. Her hand reached out to palm him through his jeans, a low groan escaping him and tumbling right into her mouth.

He reluctantly pulled back, only to motion for her to get out and get into the truck bed of the Bronco. Needing her on his dick right now, riding him like she had that damn bull. The image still flickered in front of his eyes, the way she moved on that thing, like she knew exactly what she was doing to him.

“Wanted to be a cowgirl too, huh?” Jack asked, when he sat down at the edge of the truck bed, his hands on her waist pulling her closer. Their lips met again, his tongue slipping into her mouth while her arms snaked around the back of his neck, almost knocking his hat off of him.

“Maybe.” She giggled in between kisses, feeling his hands move under the hem of her shirt, his fingertips ghosting over her hot skin. 

Who would have known this would get him so hot and bothered? Just by holding onto that thing like her damn life had depended on it. 

Well, in a way she definitely had known. It was one of the reasons she had suggested this bar over the other ones they frequented.

“Let’s see how long you can last on this bull, pretty cowgirl.”

His hands moved to her jeans, working the button open before pulling down the zipper. Thank fuck it was summer, Jack really couldn’t have waited all the way home if it was any colder than right now.

Her pussy was already wet when he let his hand wander into her pants, rubbing over the slick, wet spot that had formed on her panties. She whimpered against his lips, breaking from him to look down at where his hand vanished, finding her clit through her underwear and pressing against it with one thick finger.

Languid movements, chuckling at how her breath hitched in her throat and her hips bucked into his touch. Rubbing over it again and again, enjoying the sweet sounds that left her, gasping and moaning, her feet shuffling apart.

“Jack, please.” She moaned, her lips finding his again in a sloppy kiss, her hands cupping his cheeks. “Don’t tease me, please, baby.”

His finger pressed down harder before he moved his hand back, biting her lip when she whined in protest. Going from cocky to putty in his hands so quickly.

Such a sweet thing, helping him take off her pants, her own hands palming his hard cock, making him groan.

“You’ve been teasin’ me the whole time you were on that damn thing.” He said, yanking her underwear down her legs while she continued kissing him. “C’mon, darlin’, you know this bull needs that cowgirl to ride him.”

A giggle left her, helping him to quickly work open his pants and move them down far enough over his ass that his cock sprang free. Hard and angry, in some desperate need for attention.

Jack hoisted her up, her legs straddling his narrow hips. He really didn’t care that they were on the side of the road and any passing car could see them do this, they were practically in the middle of nowhere anyways.

Taking his hat off of his head, he placed it on hers with a smirk, his hand finding her hips again and squeezing the warm flesh hard. How pretty she looked like this, watching her take his cock in hand to line herself up with him before she slowly sank down.

A guttural sound left her, enjoying the way he stretched her open more and more with every inch, until she sat in his lap.

“Atta girl, lookin’ so pretty takin’ my dick.” He chuckled, giving her ass a sharp smack which made her gasp. “C’mon, show me up close how you rode that thing.”

As she started to move, bouncing in his lap while bracing herself on his broad chest, he leaned back onto his elbows, enjoying the show. Mesmerized by how his dick vanished inside of her tight pussy over and over again, glistening in the low lights.

It made it hard to not just cum instantly, her perfect tits jiggling with every movement, her head thrown back. All while she kept making those noises, unabashed and loud in the silence of the night.

“Oh, fuck, Jack.” She moaned, one of her hands moving to her own breast, kneading it, rolling her nipple between two fingers. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

He chuckled, just watching her work.

“You liked ridin’ that bull more than this one, didn’t you, sugar?” The words were meant to egg her on, her hips stuttering momentarily before falling back into a rhythm, faster now. “Probably still thinkin’ ‘bout that huge piece of metal between your legs.”

She whimpered, his words only getting her closer to the edge. Changing the angle just slightly, she finally found more friction against her clit while his cock dragged along all the wonderful parts inside of her pussy. So thick and deep, each bounce better than the last.

Fuck, she wished he was fucking her right now, pounding her into the truck bed, knowing he would make it fast but hard with how worked up he was.

It was a miracle he hadn’t busted inside of her yet.

“No, Jack.”

He chuckled, one of his hands reaching out to smooth over her hip and down to her ass, caressing the spot where it had come down harshly. Only to do so again, loving the noises that left her lips.

“You better not, the only bull you need to ride is right here, sugar.” He said, helping her movements by guiding them once they started to falter.

Completely lost in the feeling of his cock, eyes closed and bouncing on him like her life depended on it.

“Just work it, baby, just like that.” The praise made her feel hot, sweat breaking on her skin as she continued to focus on the feeling of him inside of her. “Gimme a yeehaw, sweet cowgirl, c’mon!”

It was ridiculous, a breathless giggle leaving her as she opened her eyes and looked at him. She loved the smirk on his lips and the mischievous glint in his eyes.

Still, she obliged, taking one hand off his chest to lift his hat off of her head, just like she had pretended to earlier.

“Yeehaw, baby!” She yelled, making him laugh beneath her, wishing he could take a picture of this. Her, against the starry sky in the middle of nowhere, waving his hat around.

Maybe he should do that another time.

“Atta girl, keep ridin’ it, show that bull who’s the boss!”

Another harsh smack on her ass, the area red and stinging but simply adding to the feeling.

Jack could be so ridiculous sometimes, but she enjoyed it, grinding down into him harder.

“This bull’s got some stamina.” She breathed out, nothing but a whiny whisper. “Fuck, I’m close.”

He sat up again, his hands pushing her down into his lap, feeling her grip him tight when his lips found hers.

“Soak it, sugar,” Jack groaned against her lips, teetering right on the edge, “be a good little cowgirl for me and soak my cock with that talented pussy.”

His fingers found her clit, hurling her right over the edge with just the smallest touch, her arms wrapping around his neck once again as her pussy convulsed around him, breathless moans leaving her.

It made her head spin, the intensity of her orgasm and as her hips faltered, he kept guiding her movements, his fingers still working on her clit. Too much at once, biting his lip as he finally fell over as well.

Pressing her down into his lap, his dick spilling deep inside of her with a deep groan. He could never get enough of that feeling of her tight pussy.

His arms encircled her waist, keeping her close as she slowly caught her breath, slumped against him. That was too much of a workout tonight, first her session on the mechanical bull and now her rodeo on this one.

“What a ride.” She chuckled, leaning back to look at him. Taking his hat off of her, she placed it back on his head. “How d’you enjoy this rodeo, cowboy?”

Jack laughed, squeezing her tight.

What a filthy little thing.

“Never enjoyed bein’ ridden more than with this damn fine cowgirl on top of me.” He answered, giving her a little pat on the hip, signalling her to move off of him. If they were home already, she could have stayed sitting on his cock all night long but unfortunately they still had a bit of a drive in front of them.

She understood, moving off of him, still smiling but missing the feeling of him inside of her already.

Jack helped her get dressed again after he had put his own pants back in place, steadying her as she stood on wobbly legs.

“Which one did you enjoy more, darlin’?” He asked once they were finished and back in the car again. “There’s only one right answer here, sugar, so choose carefully.”

She giggled, pretending to think for a moment as he started the Bronco and took off.

“The mechanical one was wild.” She said, seeing him raise an eyebrow, just the corner of his lips curling up. “But nothing’s better than the real deal, don’t worry, Jack.”

He laughed at that, shaking his head.

“Nothin' better than a real bull to ride, that’s true, sugar.” Looking over at her briefly, she could still see the mischief in his eyes, promising nothing good. “But you should get a few more lessons in, cowgirl. There’s a lot to learn.”

She rolled her eyes, one of her hands laying on his thigh.

“And I’m sure you’ll be more than happy to teach me “

#jack whiskey daniels #jack daniels #agent whiskey #kingsman #pedro pascal #agent whiskey smut #agent whiskey fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey fanfiction #agent whiskey x female reader #fan fic #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction #my writing

[kiralisa]

Trapped with 2 Naga’s..??

There will be chapters!!! use ask for any questions more!!! This is influenced by envy-of-the-apple’s Naga series so go check it out!!!

Not proofread!! Basically two snakes so they might do some things without the readers consent because they are curious!! Naga!Satosugu x reader

You’re a college student who’s in massive debt, you’re flying to visit family…everything in your life is shitty at the moment but a certain crash changes everything.

Word count: 1352??

PART 1.

More debt. You’re a college student with basically not life, you can’t make any friends and you can’t even get the jackpot of a date…you hate life. You hate yourself and now you had to get into even more debt to be on this stupid ass plane. Well at least you can see your family, you haven’t seen them in almost a year, college has kept you away from everything you love. Maybe things will get better..?

“Everyone please stay in your seats and enjoy your time as-“ you put your headphones on and play music so you don’t have to hear anything. You just wanna space out…”fuck my life..” you muttered to yourself. Soon due to probably your only time you’ve relaxed you closed your eyes.

Biggest fucking mistake ever. You wake up to someone shaking you. What the fuck??? Everything is moving?? Why is everything screaming?? You take off your headphones while someone is screaming at you “Hurry put on a life jacket!!” The man yelled. “W-what!! Why? What’s going-“ He quickly threw it over you and tightened it before you could finish you sentence leaving you in shock. The plane soon slid to the side causing you to fall on the poor man.

You quickly get up and put your hand out from him to get up. “Everyone remain calm! The plane is….crashing…” one of the pilots said through the speaker “ARE YOU FUCKING WITH US?” You yelled. There is no way…you’re gonna die…you’re gonna-

That’s all you remembered …

Everything is pitch black..

Your body is so sore..

Did you die…?

You feel something touching you…? It feels like a hand? Maybe it’s another survivor!! You slowly opened your eyes to only see a 8ft tall man with white snowy hair?? Wait humans aren’t that tall..you look down to only see him having a….a snake tail???! You see him grab your leg like he’s almost about to break it like a chicken leg and eat it! “AHHHHHHH” you screamed. You quickly kicked him in the face only for this random fellow to yelp and pull back. You quickly started to run for it. There is no way you’re dealing with this shit today!! You soon started to run into the forest only to see the white hair guy to tilt his head at you. You looked confused before you got smacked due to running into a tree.

You tried to get up but soon felt someone pick you up and thrown over his…no it’s? shoulder. Yep you wished you died with the crash…no you can’t give up! You started to kick and scream only to hear the Naga hiss at you due to your unwillingness. You soon found yoursef in his den…..with another naga. This one was a little shorter than the white haired one. But he had more muscle than him. The snake soon plopped you onto the ground causing a small yelp to fall out of your mouth

Both of the snakes look up at you with two tilted heads, what are they..? Why are they so tall?? Where even are you??? You turn your head at the exit but before you could even run one of them hissed at you…it was the black haired one…he was eyeing you…he knew what you were planning. “Bastard..” you thought. You turned back to them to look at who you were dealing with a little better.

They look like snakes but they were human??? Are nagas even real?? You look at them up and down in awe and in shock. The white haired one looked dumb and happy. His eyes were a….almost scary like blue while the other one was a beautiful violet. The other one had his hair in a bun it was long and beautiful. It was pure black, He looked at you almost like he was judging you…the other one looked at you like a kid would if it saw a new toy it’s always wanted.

You felt uneasy from the eyes, you decided you were gonna name them because it seemed they weren’t gonna eat you nor let you leave…you named the blue eyed one Satoru and named the violet eyed Suguru. Maybe you just needed to introduce yourself…? “Uhm…hi? I’m…y/n?” Wait why were you questioning your name??? Why did you sound so weird?? You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment

The two naga’s tilted their head at your words. They never heard a human talk or has even seen a human at all. Satoru clicked and ticked his tongue and you. He looked friendly before turning to his mate with a childish smile. Suguru sided eyed Satoru before turning back to look at you, it seemed it would take a while for him to open up to you..but you didn’t have time. You needed to get out of there.

Satoru slithered over to you before grabbing your face to opened your mouth you tried to struggle away because this fucking naga was basically shoving his hand down your throat causing you to cough and gag. Satoru looked disappointed to not see any fangs on you as you fell down and coughing and whimpering as the other naga inspected you.

You felt him touch your hair and then he looked at your body, more so your clothes in confusion. He tried to take off your shirt but you quickly slapped his hand away from him while saying no. “Don’t fucking touch me..what even are you animals..?” You didn’t wanna cry but you felt the tears.

Suguru sighed before looking at Satoru and clicking his tongue, he slithered away while Satoru guarded the exit. Satoru stared at you with his blue shining eyes. You quickly tried to escape but Satoru quickly caught you with his tail. He started to shake you while hissing at you. “Let me go you asshole!!! Let me go! I don’t want to be here!!!” He twitches his eye before turning you in front of him while tightening his grip on you causing you to yelp.

He pulled you closer before unhinging his jaw, you started to sweat from the look itself. You soon saw two long and pointy fangs, he soon grabbed your neck and smiled before turning your head to the side so your neck was exposed. “N-No….please don’t….please no! I’m sorry I won’t-“ You screamed when he chopped down you started to shake as you felt everything, the blood dripping down your neck, the fangs, Satoru’s tongue licking your wound…a-and something that makes you feel d..dizzy..? You soon felt your eyes get weaker and soon black filled your eyes. You soon fell unconscious, were you poisoned..??

Satoru looked at you confused as your eyes were closed and the red blood dripping down your neck, he thought you look pretty before he started to get a little concerned you weren’t moving? You weren’t doing anything and your body was limp…he started to shake you to wake you up but nothing was working…he started to get nervous, he soon heard his mate slithering towards the den and soon he saw his mate. Suguru saw his mate and…you? You were…unconscious, and blood was on your neck..

Satoru soon dropped your unconscious body before turning towards Suguru with a frown and guilty look while nervous clicking his tongue. Suguru soon slapped satoru on the head before picking up your unconscious body. He soon slithered towards their body and setting your body down. Satoru started to whine when Suguru didn’t let him sleep with him. Suguru soon layed next to you licking the dried blood on your body and using his tail to keep you warm. It seems you wouldn’t be making it out of here….for a while…or forever…

END OF PART 1

AN: heyo!! Hope you enjoyed this chapter and hope you’ll continue reading!!

#jujutsu fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #satosugu #gojo satoru #geto suguru #satoru x reader #getou suguru x reader #satosugu x reader #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu geto

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Kinkuary Day 7

AN: Shoutout to that one time Elv and I spoke about Mingyu wearing lace panties months ago. It was a big inspiration for this, and it's been rotating in my brain since then.

Synopsis: After a lot of encouragement and motivation from you, Mingyu finally tries out something in your bedroom that he's been curious about for some time now.

General tags and warnings: Kim Mingyu x Fem! Reader, established relationship and that's it honestly lol. This is very much pwp.

Primary kink: Crossdressing.

Smut tags and warnings: Dom leaning! Reader, sub leaning! Mingyu, Mingyu in feminine lingerie, nipple play (m. and f. receiving), oral sex (m. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), piv sex without a condom, Reader cries very briefly due to being overwhelmed, dirty talk, some praise, hints of a size and a strength kink, brief manhandling and creampie.

Word count: 2.5k.

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

To say you're excited would be a gross understatement.

Exhilaration would probably be the best way to describe what you're feeling and even it doesn't adequately convey the feeling of your heart thundering in your chest and your blood simmering in your veins.

“Gyu, are you done?” You call out to your boyfriend. Hoping you don't sound too antsy or impatient. His comfort means more to you than anything else and you'd gladly wait as long as it takes for him.

“Y-Yeah um I'm coming out now,” comes his timid response. Before you can reassure him that he can take his time, he steps out of your shared bathroom. Stopping all of the air in your lungs and causing your heart to leap all the way up to your throat.

Mingyu is a gorgeous man. It still boggles your mind a little that he's a real person who exists. He looks beautiful no matter what but, now? With the lingerie the two of you spent hours agonising over adorning his massive frame? You don't think you've ever been more attracted to him in your entire life.

“Gyu,” you whisper, scanning his entire body from head to toe just to commit every detail to memory, “you look beautiful.”

The blush that colours his cheeks somehow makes him look even more gorgeous and you really don't think you can handle not touching him any longer.

“Come here, baby,�� you command softly, shuffling backwards onto your shared bed. Desire coiling in the pit of your stomach as he follows you without any more prompting. The lace stretching across his large frame with every movement he makes.

You knew pink would be his colour.

Despite the embarrassment you could feel radiating from him earlier, Mingyu lets you kiss him easily. Melting against your mouth within seconds while you spread your thighs for him to make himself at home between. His large hands already desperately clutching your waist as your tongue snakes its way into his mouth. Commiting the taste of him to memory like you haven't kissed him hundreds of thousands of times before.

“My pretty boy. You look so gorgeous,” you mutter against his lips. Giggling into him when he flinches and hisses in slight pain after you snap his bra against his skin. Always so responsive. Any reply to your words is cut short by quiet gasps when you kiss along his jaw and throat. Licking and biting at every bit of skin you can.

You can feel yourself growing wetter with every whimper he lets out and shudder of him beneath your touch. It's all made worse by the hardness you can start to feel pressing against your bare slit.

An idea springs to mind and you grin wolfishly into his throat before using momentum to roll him onto his back. He blinks up at you. You'd take a few minutes to simply appreciate how endearing he looks under the lowlight of your bedroom but, you're a woman on a mission.

Mingyu moans into your mouth when your hands shove up the bra that stretches across his muscular chest. His hips bucking up into you when you palm his pecs greedily. Smiling against his lips when he shivers as your fingers lightly brush over his nipples. Mingyu's sensitivity has always been a fascination of yours. Even after being together for so many years, he's still so responsive to even your faintest touches.

You bite down on his plump lips in time with your fingers tugging on his nipples and his reaction is immediate. His hands jump from where they were fisting your sheets to gripping your thighs. Digging into their thickest parts while your fingers continue to toy with his sensitive nipples and you teasingly nip at his lip until it starts to bruise.

He whines once you separate from his lips but you soothe him with a few kisses along his jaw and neck. Determined not to get distracted this time, you continue your descent until your lips come in contact with the lace of his bra. Your clit pulses when you glance up only to find his eyes staring at you with enough intensity to stop your heart briefly. Maintaining eye contact, you kiss your way to one of his nipples.

Mingyu is the first one to look away.

His eyes flutter shut when you envelope his nipple in your mouth while your fingers continue to tug and pinch his other nipple. God, everything about him tastes delicious. Maybe you're biased. Maybe you're too far gone for him but, you're convinced Mingyu was made to melt in your mouth. Every part of him.

Based on the way he squirms underneath you and grinds his large cock against you in search of any kind of friction, you think he agrees. Your body moves against his without much input from your brain. Grinding onto him to help ease some of the dull throbbing at the apex of your thighs. Glancing up at him through your lashes, you drink in every minute shift in his expression. Especially when you swap over to his other nipple and give it the same treatment.

A strangled curse is punched from the depths of his chest when you run your teeth along his nipple. His hands shifting from your thighs to your ass. Clutching at you in an attempt to ground himself but, also to press you down onto his length. You can't help the moan that leaves your mouth when he clumsily bumps against your clit. The stimulation causing electricity to fire all along your spine.

Briefly, you allow yourself to get lost in the frenzied grinding and continue to lavish his chest with bites and sucks while your hands palm at him. His breathy whimpers and moans shoot straight to your already throbbing clit and you can feel yourself growing impatient. As much as you're enjoying having your mouth on his beautiful chest, you have another goal in mind. So, with a great deal of strength, you continue your descent down his body. Kissing down his stomach and smiling when he flinches away when you brush against a spot that's ticklish for him.

It's pavlovian the way spit starts to pool in your mouth when you reach the waistband of his panties. They looked phenomenal on him already but, with his big cock straining against the translucent lace, he looks absolutely filthy. You make a note to ask him later if he'd let you take pictures of him in this set. Or any other sets you can convince him to try on. Mingyu props himself up on his arms to watch you as you mouth at him through the fabric. Dark eyes committing every detail of this scene to memory while his thoroughly kissed lips part.

“Fuck, baby I– your mouth feels so good,” he groans, his jaw clenching when you lick his tip through the fabric. You're sure his panties are ruined now with a mix of his pre-cum and your copious amounts of spit but, you couldn't care less. You'll buy all the panties in the world for him if it means having him like this. Having teased him and yourself enough, you tug them off of him. Mingyu lifts his hips readily, just as ready as you are for whatever you're planning to give him. The panties rest just above where his stockings start and the sight of that sends one of your hands in-between your sticky thighs. Your fingers pressing into your clit in time with your other hand grasping his thick cock. Fuck. To think when you two started dating his cock used to intimidate you. Now you can't imagine anything except excitement coursing through your veins at the sight of it.

Your fingers rub circles into your clit at the same pace as your hand strokes him. It's not nearly enough for him based on his frustrated whines and jerky thrusts of his hips into your hold but, you haven't quite had your fun yet. Picking up your pace marginally, you choose then to take his tip into your mouth. Moaning around him at the taste that hits your tongue. It's so Mingyu and your fingers pick up their pace as well. You could spend hours sucking him off if he'd let you. The weight and taste of him in your mouth always makes your brain so fuzzy.

A choked whimper of your name leaves his lips as you sink further down on him. The gagging sound of him hitting the back of your throat forces a guttural sound from him and his fingers weave themselves into your hair. Mingyu, ever the sweetheart, doesn't push you further down onto him. If anything, he uses his hold on you to ground himself as you move up and down on him. It's messy and dirty and you're pretty sure your jaw is going to ache like hell tomorrow but, it's all worth it.

He shallowly thrusts into your mouth and fist, high-pitched apologies spilling from his lips every time you accidentally choke around him. You want to tell him it's fine. That you don't mind in the slightest. However, you don't think it's worth it to detach yourself from him. So, you hope your watery eyes communicate enough.

The emptiness is starting to hurt so, you push three of your fingers into your dripping entrance. They don't provide nearly enough of a stretch, especially compared to Mingyu's fingers and cock but, it'll have to do for now. It's much better than being completely empty and the stretch your fingers provide makes you moan around him. Your pace falters momentarily while you savour the sensation of your fingers and grind your clit down onto the heel of your palm. Mingyu happily picks up your slack. Fucking your mouth faster while he throws himself back into the mountain of pillows he's resting on.

You can read Mingyu like the back of your hand. Actually, you're certain you know him better than the back of your hand. When his cock starts throbbing more incessantly and his thrusts grow sloppier and sloppier, you know he's getting close.

So, you tighten your grip on the base of his cock and remove your mouth from him. His eyes are wide, watery and wild when they meet yours. You would laugh at the pout on his handsome face if you weren't too busy catching your breath and dealing with the slight sting settling in the back of your throat. Once your lungs have greedily inhaled as much air as they can, you crawl your way up his body and slot your mouth against his. Mingyu groans into you, tasting himself on your tongue while you drag your dripping folds along his bare cock.

“Gyu,” you moan into his mouth, “I want you to be a good boy and fuck m–” before you can finish your sentence, you find yourself on your back with your boyfriend towering over you. His large hands drag you in place until he's between your thighs. His eyes never leave your face. Zeroing in on every shift in your expression as he starts to push himself into you. Even after all these years, you can't help the way your fingers claw at his muscular back and your lips part readily when he sinks into you.

He leans down to kiss you, pressing his own sounds of pleasure into you until he's completely inside of you. “Gyu fuck you feel so good,” you moan into his mouth, desire clawing at your insides with every pulse of his massive cock and his hands spanning themselves along your hips. “Always make me feel so full,” you whimper, tears rolling down your face at the sheer intensity you're feeling. A sound from somewhere deep in his chest is ripped from him and he snaps his hips into you harshly. Starting a punishing pace while his hands tug your gown up to collarbones so he can kiss and lick your breasts. Giving you a taste of your own medicine as the obscene noises of his cock splitting you open ring in your ears.

“So pretty. So beautiful. Feel so tight and wet around my dick. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck,” he babbles into your spit smeared skin. Using his strength to his advantage to keep you pressed exactly where he wants you. The juxtaposition of this large, ridiculously strong man who you're head over heels in love with dressed up in one of the most delicate sets you've ever seen makes your head spin. The thought is enough to cause your hand to weasel its way between your two, sweat drenched, overheated bodies until your fingers find your swollen clit again.

Mingyu mutters a string of curses into your breasts when he feels the way your pussy grips him like a vice. Pulling away from you just so that he can see the way you bring yourself closer to the edge. Thoroughly kissed lips parted with your barely open eyes glossy with desire. Despite the way his balls seize at the sight, he's determined for you to cum first. He won't let himself go any other way.

So, he exploits a few weaknesses he's picked up on over the years.

A startled gasp flies from your lips when Mingyu uses his strength to shove your legs into your chest. You can already feel the angle starting to cause a burn to settle into your thighs. But fuck, does it push him impossibly deeper into you. Between that and his canines digging into your neck, it's only a matter of time until your vision blurs and your entire body free falls underneath him.

Mingyu fucks you through it all. Drawing out your climax with strokes that aren't nearly as quick but haven't dropped an ounce in intensity. All you can do is lie there and take it. Clenching and unclenching your sheets between your sweaty fists as your thighs shake underneath his somehow steady hold. You're too far gone to make out exactly what comes out of your mouth but, apparently it's enough for Mingyu to shove his face in the hollow between your neck and your shoulder and cum inside of you.

His hoarse whimpers and groans of your name unintentionally cause your walls to clamp down on him further. It's not like you can help it. How are you not going to react to your beautiful boyfriend saying your name like that while also cumming inside of you? You're only human after all.

His hold on you loosens after some time and you feel him sag against you. His cock softens inside of you but Mingyu is in no hurry to move. Humming in appreciation when your fingers toy with his hair and pressing kisses into your shoulder.

“Gyu, I love you and all but, my thighs hurt,” you say with a laugh, giggling when he profusely apologises and removes your legs from where they were pressed into your chest. Resuming his position on top of you like you're his own personal body pillow.

You know you need to get up and clean yourselves up but, you're happy to lie here and bask in his affection for just a bit longer.

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Do not repost, edit, copy and/or translate my work. I do not give you my permission to do so, nor will you ever receive it.

Kinkuary Masterlist | Seventeen Masterlist | Ko-Fi.

#kim mingyu smut #mingyu smut #seventeen smut #kim mingyu x reader smut #mingyu x reader smut #seventeen x reader smut

[bluxb3rry]

❝𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞!❞↳෴੭˚ ༘♡·˚₊˚ˑ༄ؘ 💜

Medusa AU! Lee Minho x Blind! male reader! he/him pronouns! English is not my first language! hehe angst and fluff Also, HAPPY NEW YEAR [Not yet but you know] would you like to see me as another fruit or blueberry forever?

── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱───────

Lee minho was a handsome man, everytime he walked he made at least made one person fall in love at frist sight. He didn't care, he just wanted to be with his cats in his lovely home, him and his toughts.

In some way, he didn't liked being like this, people only looking at him with lust in their eyes, talking to him with only one thougt in their head. He wished that someone could touch his hair, his lips, his neck, his body, with pure love, and the soft words "i love you" being murmured in his ear. That someone could kiss him with passion and that could build a fire inside him.

He oh so wanted to be loved, that he believed in the men that told him those words, he ignored everything because he was told "i love you" he ignored the warnings in his head and kissed him with passion, feeling loved.

But love isn't real, it's fake, and he learned that with pain, he was punished. He didn't know why, he was loved, he felt safe in that man arms, but he heard an angry scream before that his body changed.

Lee minho was a handsome man, so as a punishment, he was made to a monster. He didn't really looked like one, the snakes that were his new hair didn't damage anything, he would look like a beautiful creature, but, everyone that looked at him would became stone. That made him a monster.

People wanted to kill him, people wanted to take his head as a trophy, but that wasn't even close to what he felt, he felt betrayed because of love. Because of love, he lost his life.

He wished that someone would look at him and tell him "you're still handsome" "you're still are perfect" please, stop calling him a monster, please let him leave that cage of rocks inside a muntain, where only the planst and the rocks can hear his screams and tears. Ignoring the beautiful flowers that grow from the grass, ignoring those snakes that oh tried so hard to help him.

Please someone tell him, tell him that you love him.

-hello?-

Huh, a voice?

-Hello? Is anybody here? im lost!-the voice started to be more close

-a human?-he whispered, a snake answering him with a hiss

He started to get up from the rock, his snake like body transferring him. He looked behind one of the rocks, the human was walking quite dumb in his opinion, he would step on some rocks and hiss, still looking anywhere confused as ever.

-Hello?-the man said again, until he crashed into a big rock and fell to the floor.

-you are one silly human-minho finally talked, getting close to him.

There were a lot of statues around him, men that tried to kill him, men tried to hide but failed. Yet, this guy decided to just walk like nothing, and even ask for help, his help.

-Hello? Who are you?-the men asked looking at him.

Minho was suprised when the men looked but didn't became stone.

-my question is, who are you? i want to know the stupid men that came here-minho talked with a hint of anger in his voice

-oh, um, im sorry mister, im Y/N, as you can see im blind and i don't know how i got lost and, well, here i am-Y/N said with a small smile, his cheeks becoming quite red

-huh, that makes sense-minho walked far away, slapping his snake tail to the mens face-that explains why you aren't stone right now

-stone?-Y/N looked at bit more suprise now-so, you are the snake man that the town talks about-

-something like that, and you don't look so afraid-minho said while playing with one of his snakes.

-well, if you were a really monster, you would have killed me by now, yet you didn't-Y/N said with a smile in his face, looking where he was hoping the men was.

-you are lost, where did you wanted to go anyways that you ended here?-minho sat, kinda, in front of him.

-i was following some people, they said that they were going to look for food but never came back-he laughed a bit-i think they didn't wanted me in the group anymore

Minho just looked at him, not saying a word.

-Lee minho-

-huh?-

-Lee minho, thats my name-

── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱───────

Minho showed him the town, hiding behind some trees, far away from his cave, yet, Y/N followed him back. He heard him quite easly, since he crashed again into some trees.

"why are you still here" he asked

"well, you didn't pushed me away" Y/N answered

So, time passed, and here they are, beside the small lake that was in the cave. Minho looking at Y/n making some crown flowers with the few that grow there.

-you know how to make those, you look like a professional-he said getting closer to him

-yeah, well my mom used to teach me, it was hard since i only could use my hands but, i learned and i made a lot of them for her and for me-Y/N said finally finishing the two crown flowers, putting one in his own head

-and your father?-minho asked, fixing a bit of the flower crown in Y/N's head

-he, was never there, i didn't mind, i didn't met him but i wish i could hugged him at least one time-Y/N's voice was a bit sad

-men are like that, some of us don't deserve that, i was once a handsome man, but, someone betrayed me-minho said, anger being obvious in his voice

-was?-Y/N asked

-well, if you could see me right now, you would see a monster-

Y/N raised his hands a bit, withouth warning he started to touch Minho face. Minho was suprised but he stay still, now knowing what the other one was doing.

Then he felt his fingers in his lips, touching his cheecks, softly touching his nose and even touched some of the snakes. Y/N touched his neck a bit, then rested his hands in his shoulders, Y/N smiled.

-i think your handsome and kind, if you weren't like that, i would have been dead by now but you helped me and even let me live here-Y/N said-though i do feel sad that i can't see you, dying by seeing you must be a beautiful way to die.

Minho felt tairs falling from his cheecks, oh he waited so long for those words to be said, even before that he became like that. Someone has finally treated him with kind and love, told him how he was.

His heart felt like fire, he didn't know when but he kissed him, he kissed him with passion and you accepted that. The two men in that room knew so little abouth the other, but they felt safe in each others arms.

When they separated, they hugged, Minho face being in withing the shoulder and neck of Y/N.

-i... i think i love you-minho whispered

-i love you too-

Minho felt happy, and with his snakes looking at him and at his new lover, he didn't care, he wasn't a monster.

── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱───────

#skz fanfic #skz #male reader #stray kids #stray kids x male reader #skz x male reader #x male reader #kpop x male reader #minho x male reader #minho #minho x reader #lee minho fanific

[fastlikealambo]

Connubium.|| Coriolanus Snow x Black Fem Reader Chapter Four

table of contents.

Chapter One.

Chapter Two.

Chapter Three.

Summary: Stealing from The Capitol is a deadly offense, yet you’ve done it more times than you can count but when you do something you should not have done, Volumnia Gaul decides a fate for you that might just be worse than death.

Notes: This takes place post The Ballad of Songbirds And Snakes and Coryo is in his last year at The University, studying under Dr. Gaul. This will not follow canon, I’m not an expert on all the lore so I apologize if I get things wrong.

Disclaimer: You know Coriolanus is a POS, I know Coriolanus is a POS, please don’t yell at me because this is just a fun little story, something for thee hotties, and  if you feel that strongly against President Snow, please let me know if you’d like me to sign you up for tessarae.

Warnings: a little bit of dream smut 18+ only

Thanks for the love on chapter three! If you want to see chapter five, comment or reblog, feedback makes me want to continue!

Dr. Gaul loved to waltz.

As peacekeepers dragged away the body of the morphling you just killed, Gaul walked you into the residence and put the kettle on. 

If she wasn’t holding your dying parents hostage and you weren’t scrubbing blood from your face while you told her about your afternoon with Coriolanus, you could pretend she was a slightly eccentric aunt around for tea.

The moment you mentioned dinner at The Plinths, Gaul lept of her seat, turned on music and a few moments later, the most dangerous woman in Panem was teaching you The Capitol Waltz. 

You made sure to step on her feet for the glory of District 6.

    “You should be lighter than air, now try again or I’ll make sure you injure that ankle permanently.”

It went on like this until night fell over The Capitol and Gaul left you with a guide to each of the high society families that would be in attendance.

  “Mr. Snow’s future is well discussed and those that would do anything to see their idiot children in a position of power one day will spend the evening trying to destroy the pair of you. Do not let them, little thief.”  Gaul warned and snapped her gloved fingers, signaling for two peacekeepers to take their places outside your door.

You’re left alone, helping yourself to meal after meal till your stomach hurts and your mind is foggy enough to sleep.

How were your parents sleeping?

Was there someone making sure your father wasn’t cold? 

Was there someone to hold your mother’s hand?

It did not matter now for in your dreams, you were always together.

In Coriolanus’ dreams, he crawled to you.

Warm and ravenous, he would have you on his scarlet sheets, kissing and biting your tender dark skin. The more his lips wandered, the more tremendously hard his cock became, entering you with a desperate ferity.

“Coriolanus.” You whispered.

“Coriolanus.” You moaned.

“Coriolanus.” You screamed.

He thrusted and thrusted inside you till his cock met nothing but soaked sheets, the sound of your heavy whimpers replaced by something else.

Hissing.

And in Coriolanus’ waking life, he opened his eyes and began to scream.

 “Your gun is wrinkling my dress.”

The peacekeeper in the backseat with you ignored you and jabbed the gun into your spine, forcing you to get out of the car outside of the dinner party the following night where Coriolanus waited for you, rose in hand.

     “You clean up nice Coriolanus Snow, it’s nice to see you without gravel in your curls.” You said, taking the offered flower and smelling it. 

       “I might just be the luckiest man in Panem, you look lovely. How’s the ankle?”

        “Better, though I think my days of reading while crossing the street will have to be behind me.” You said with a real smile and took the arm he offered.

          “Are you nervous? Everyone’s eyes will be on you.” Coriolanus asked and you reached forward to straighten the rose pinned to his lapel.

         “Then it’s a good thing my eyes will be on you.” 

For someone who had been beaten by peacekeepers and nearly killed by a morphling, to sup and dine with those responsible for keeping the districts half starved was a new kind of torture.

But you were absolutely flawless.

Coriolanus must have introduced you to everyone during dinner and you smiled as they made jokes about the smell of district 12 and listened intently to their strategies for pre-reaping bets.

You just had one final introduction and you must have been shaking because Coriolanus squeezed your hand.

     “President Ravinstill, I didn’t know you’d be here tonight.” Coriolanus lied with a slight bow at the older man.

       “Young Mr. Snow, good to see you boy. Who’s this lovely creature?” President Ravinstill, President of Panem said, a wide smile not reaching his eyes.

If you were a hero, you would have picked up a butter knife and stabbed him, or held him at butter knife point until he agreed to cancel the games for good.

      “It’s an honor to meet you, President Ravinstill, thank you for all that you do for Panem.” You said warmly, shaking his hand.

 “It’s a pleasure to serve Panem and our shining Capitol citizens, including bright young ladies such as yourself. Had I known you were hiding such a nice girl, I would have had you working in my office weeks ago, Snow! Stop by on Monday and we’ll go over your position to make sure it’s to your liking. You’ll join us, my dear?”

   “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Coward.

Coriolanus led you away from the president and onto the makeshift  dance floor in the Plinth’s apartment.

   “I didn’t know President Ravinstill was capable of smiling that much. You’re incredible, you know that?” He whispered.

  “You haven’t seen my waltz yet, you might want to hold off on that.” You said, looking at your feet to get into position but Coriolanus tilted your chin to meet his eyes.

 “Eyes on me, darling.”

And then you were off.

Whatever the hell you were doing with Gaul could not compare to waltzing with Coriolanus, you were positive you were no longer on the ground but your eyes on him, you couldn’t know for sure.

The rumblings of a storm brought the waltzing to a close as the partygoers began to clear out to avoid the storm and your own driver/jailer had yet to arrive.

“Coryo, would you and your friend like to stay the night? The storm is really quite bad, dear.” Ma Plinth, asked and Coriolanus with his hand in yours, looked to you.

“Yes please, if it’s not too much trouble.”

As it turned out, Ma Plinth had extended the same offer to others and when you both arrived at the room designated for both of you, only one bed was there.

Coriolanus mumbled something about going to find a couch but you just took him by the hand and closed the door.

Whatever modesty mechanics occurred in the light vanished in sleep and while the attempt to sleep as far away as humanly possible was noble, somehow you had ended up curled up behind Coriolanus, head tucked into his shoulder, silk covered curls tickling his ear. 

    “I was waiting for a more opportune moment to say this but I would very much like to court you, if you’ll have me.” Coriolanus whispered and turned over in bed to face you.

In another life, you’d have him forever. 

   “I’d like that, Coriolanus.”

   “Coryo. You can call me Coryo, darling.”

With your arms wrapped around Coryo, you slept and for the first time you did not dream of your family.

You dreamt of him.

A dream that was interrupted some time in the early morning by the smell of smoke.

The Capitol was on fire.

That’s chapter 4! I’m not sure if this one was any good but as usual if you’d like to see chapter 5, please comment or reblog! Thank you for reading.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x black!reader #coriolanus x you #Coriolanus snow #yes I'm aware the plinths live in the same building as Coriolanus in canon but they don't here

[mermazing-art]

The real name of the Furious Five 

After the Kung Fu Panda 4 movie I started thinking about what Zhen's first conversations with the Furious Five would be like. I imagined her nervous about making a good impression but fitting quite well with her group dynamic given her mischievous attitude and enjoying their adventures with her, establishing a relationship of trust. Which led me to a thought "Would she, wanting to know them more, ask them what their real names are?"

This theory has been circulating in the fandom for years since it is said that their names actually refer to their fighting styles or their species (as well as Master Ox, Crocodile or Rhino) since those who retain their own name within this discipline are those who have a superior role such as Oogway, Shifu or Po and those who do not have a title such as Zhen or Tai Lung.

Well, I decided to look for a suitable name for each one, one that fit their physique or personality, that was easy to remember and that would distinguish one another, let's go!

Mantis: Xun Yu ( fast jade )

With Mantis I was clear that I didn't want to look for anything that had to do with his size but I did want to highlight his most powerful abilities such as his speed.  That's where his first name, Xun, comes from.  His middle name, Yu (Jade), is because of his green color although this can also mean ''insect'' depending on the kanji with which it is written.  My idea is that Mantis calls himself ''the green lightning'' referring to his real name.

Crane: Zimo ( refined ink )

At first I wanted his name to be related to the sky or the air due to his avian species or his techniques, but it made me think that one of the things that catches my attention about this character is his interest in Chinese calligraphy.  Therefore, I decided to name him Zimo (ink or writing) to reflect his beloved hobby in his name.

Monkey: Wong Sang ( yellow mulberry )

For Monkey, I researched his voice actor, the one and only Jackie Chan, born Chan Kong-Sang. I wanted to take it as a reference by changing the name Kong since it is the name of the Monkey's brother to Wong (yellow), relating it to the color of his fur. I wanted to make a reference to his comic side but I couldn't find a suitable name for the guidelines I had assigned to it.

Viper: Jia Ling ( beautiful tinkle )

As with Monkey, I researched on her voice actress, Lucy Liu, whose full name is Lucy Alexis Liu Yu Ling. I wanted to reflect her charming and sweet personality, so I took the name Ling (tinkerbell) as a reference of the hiss' snake she produces, as well as her happy attitude.  But her first name would be Jia to emphasize the beauty of this character.

Tigress: Xia ( sunrise )

For her, I thought I would delve deeper into her story and her development as a character in order to give her the appropriate name.  This is her story:

When Tigress lived in the orphanage, she received the name Xian ("who lives in seclusion") from the other children perpetuating their contempt and fear of her. When Shifu finally decided to adopt her, after He heard that name many times, almost always accompanied by the word "monster", he asked her what new name she would like. She simply accepted Tigress because she didn't believe she could deserve a name. Shifu pondered and decided to call him Xia. Tigress at first didn't like this idea because it sounded similar to the previous one, but Shifu explained his choice to her. Both names, although similar, did not have the same meaning because now she would no longer be in the darkness, secluded and alone, but rather she had the opportunity for a new life, a path marked by the light that emanated from her, a new sunrise.

So yes, Zhen would ask the furious five their names, giving the situation that Po would find out right then and there about this. Everyone except Tigress would answer this question since for her it is still a very personal matter related to her past and Shifu and she still doesn't feel comfortable sharing it with everyone. Could Tigress talk to a certain panda about this?

#dreamworks #kung fu panda #kung fu panda 4 #kfp #kfp 4 #kfp tipo #kfp po #furious five #kfp tigress #master tigress #master mantis #master crane #master monkey #master viper

[star2fishmeg]

Hi, how are you? How is your day? I hope you are having a good day.I read “Overseas” and I was wondering if you could do that for SWORD leaders and mighty warriors. If you have the time.

ᴀʙʀᴏᴀᴅ

Pairing: SWORD leaders x gn!reader (separate), Ice x gn!reader

Summary: SWORD leaders and having a foreign s/o they kept secret until they didn’t

Warnings: swearing

Authors note: Thank you for requesting! I’m glad you enjoyed ‘Overseas’!! I only included Ice for Mighty Warriors as he is the leader, I hope this is okay! This is my first time writing for him and Hyuga too, apologies for any ooc. In future I plan to include MW once I’ve grasped their characters more!

Request: above!

ʜɪɴᴏ 'ᴄᴏʙʀᴀ' ᴊᴜɴᴘᴇɪ

Most of this man’s life is a mystery, Yamato and Nobaru probably got a board of red strings and photos for him

 How he met his s/o is a secret he’ll never tell, but knowing him, it was probably after a fight, probably casually grabbing a drink with dried blood painting his nose and upper lip

 s/o likely cleaned him up on the spot, and he didn’t shoo them away bc a) he has manners believe it or not and b) he thought they were cute and why the hell would he say no?

 He did smile though! Barely but from up close it was clear as day

From then on, he met up with them until they left, but s/o flies over to visit him whenever they can and the rendezvous continue

This guy is a texter, a rare caller. He’s texting them whenever he can, which is suspicious to the others bc he never answers their texts that quick

One time Yamato was in deep shit and Cobra aired him, but the moment they text? Mans like lightning

He leaked his s/o by pure accident and with the help of his friends snooping. His s/o sent him a package once a month of goodies from their country, with a letter and photos included and Sannoh just happened to get their hands on this before he did

Eyeing up the box, Yamato, Dan and Tettsu sheepishly gave each other looks. It wasn’t usual for Cobra to receive any sort of mail, let alone turn up at the diner. But the way the box was coated in cute stickers and little drawings of snakes piqued dire interest among the others. Their cold, mysterious leader, having an admirer?

“Think we should open it?” Tettsu asked, gently shaking the box to hear the rustling coming from inside.

“You’re fucking stupid, are you asking for a death wish?” Yamato hissed, snatching it off him and gently placing back on the back table where the man in question usually sat, “This is Cobra’s business, and we should stay out of it.”

“Or we can watch from afar, he’s here, act natural.” Dan grinned, him and Tettsu scurrying to the table in the centre of the diner, under the bottle chandelier and giggling like schoolgirls. Yamato rolled his eyes and sat at the bar. Cobra strolled in, eyes darting to the box in an almost panicked state. The boys pretended to not notice, but Cobra noticed Yamato taking a not-so-subtle glance his way as he ran his key through the tape.

Opening the cardboard shyly, he was met with a letter addressed to him, his real name, not his alias. Dan, Tettsu and Yamato snuck up behind him, looming over his shoulders for a peak. At that point his secret was out, Junpei gave up on trying to hide it as he rummaged through the tissue paper for the contents of the gift. Photos of s/o’s day trips and travels, one of those amusingly shitty tourist keyrings you find in the cities, handmade items they’d passionately told him about, a polaroid of the two of them they’d taken on their last visit to Japan and more. His favourite this time was the small Cobra figurine, with a note attached saying ‘punched a man for this like you taught me <3’. A smile graced his lips upon reading the letter, the other bewildered, practically hearing Cobra’s heart thump in his chest.

“Damn, not even we get Junpei privileges.” Yamato whistled; eyebrows raised in shock.

“And you never will.” Junpei scoffed, placing all the items back in the box and taking off.

ʀᴏᴄᴋʏ

Definitely met his s/o in his club

They were at the bar, probably fending off some creep when he came over, getting the guy removed and permanently banned

Rocky introduced himself and apologised and their story continued from there

Gives the vibes that s/o just moved to Japan and was getting to know the area when they found Club Heaven

 Teaches Rocky new one-liners in their native language for sure, also telling him about their country in general and all the culture shocks

And he listens to all of it happily, fully intrigued with the way they carry themselves and speak

 Oh this man always lends them his coats, and they playfully wear his glasses bc it makes him smile every single time. He finds when they impersonate him the cutest

White Rascals actually had no idea about them until they burst through the doors one evening, panicking about being late to open the club

“So uh…this a thing now or a new member? Companion?” Koo asked for the group, giving y/n a hesitant look. Rocky only pulled them into his lap, coat still wrapped around their shoulders.

“S’my angel. She’s gonna be stickin’ around now.” He threw their legs over his lap, thumb rubbing their thigh. Koo and the others only nodded, focusing on opening the club and worrying about asking the details later.

Despite running late, the club still held its lively state with flashing lights, crisp sound blaring through the speakers, bar busy, dancefloor packed and Rascals serving the people when needed. At the top of the balcony, the VIP area, Rocky leant back on the red sofa, cigar smoke floating from his lips as his s/o melted into his side, legs over his knee and hand on his chest. Kizzy and Kaito side-eyed each other, still unsure of how the situation came to be and where this person came from to start with. Sure, they’d seen them at the bar, how could they not? But what were their intentions with their leader? They agreed, silently, with a nod to each other that Koo would be the one to ask since he’d already opened that can of worms.

ᴍᴜʀᴀʏᴀᴍᴀ ʏᴏsʜɪᴋɪ

OH BOY this interaction did not go smoothly

In fact, Yoshiki most likely either made the most awkward meeting or the most embarrassing one

He’s still cute tho, and his s/o thought so from the start

His shower packed up and the plumber wouldn’t come until the morning, but he really stank and so what does this kid do?

Go next door to his new and incredibly gorgeous neighbour who just moved from overseas

Man is fumbling when they let him in, he can’t believe he’s folding so fast

And somehow, in broken English (because it’s the only other language he knows from middle school), this awkward encounter gets him their digits

And dates, and a label. And amongst all this time passing, not once did he remember to tell his friends at Oya

His stomach dropped at the knocking on his door, eyes frantically looking for Seki and Furuya’s. Both men, looking back at him like deer in headlights, motioning him to answer. Murayama stood up nodding, making his way to the front door, mind screaming at him for forgetting to say something sooner, they were going to freak out like usual.

Opening the door slowly, he peered back before looking at y/n’s bright smile.

“Hey ‘Shiki! You busy?” they chirped, Seki and Furuya’s heads snapping around towards the entrance way.

“Uh, yeah. My friends are over right now, but I’m free tonight.” Was all he could muster up with such a dry throat. Saying goodbye he closed the door again, shaking his head as he took his walk of doom back to the living room and flopping back onto the couch. The silence killed him, so he kept his head thrown back and eyes closed, counting down from five. Four. Three. Two. One.

Furuya and Seki yelled, confusion and banterous hurt in their tones.

sᴍᴏᴋᴇʏ

Pure accidental meeting but he was so sweet

 s/o probably took a wrong turn and ended up lost in Nameless City, devastated by what they were seeing

Until they bumped into Smokey, expressing their sympathy as well as the situation

Smokey did help them tho, showing them the way to where they were actually intending to go but s/o claimed they’d remember the route to see him again

They sent letters back and forth since that day, and s/o would fly over to help out the people when they could

Definitely wanted to tell Rude Boys but was hesitant about their reaction and never got around to it

Until s/o visits the base asking for Smokey and the boys stand there, guard up asking why someone looking so out of place wants their Smokey

Drawing back one of the ragged fabrics used as a curtain, y/n poked their head through first before shuffling into the base completely. They kept their footsteps quiet, not wanting to disturb the boys who were gathered in the middle. Yet Smokey was nowhere to be seen. Nerves bundled in their stomach, they’d never properly met the boys before, only seen them on patrol.

“Excuse me,” they called, all their heads snapping around to face them, “Christ- is Smokey around?”

Takeshi stood up and approached her slowly, the rest watching ready for any kind or cue, “He’s not here right now, can I help you though?” Their shoulders relaxed, letting out a breath as they gave him a small smile. Takeshi lowered his guard in return, glancing behind him for the others to do the same.

“Ah, I’m y/n, Smokey told me to come visit him here. That’s all he said.”

“Sounds like Smokey, vague but to the point.” Takeshi chuckled. As if on cue, Smokey’s figure trudged in, a smile gracing his lips upon seeing y/n. He pulled them into his side and placed a kiss to their head, watching the boys’ faces scrunch up or eyebrows raise.

“Boys, meet y/n, my s/o. Y/n, mee the Rude Boys.” Was all he mumbled out before slipping his hand into y/n’s and leading her to their meeting circle.

P scratched his neck, “Okay, why didn’t you say anything before, Smokey?”

“Forgot.”

ʜʏᴜɢᴀ ɴᴏʀɪʜɪsᴀ

This man fully lost to them in Poker at a Daruma festival

But was he mad about it? Not really, he was more impressed at their wits over anything else. No one dared gamble against Hyuga

So when s/o placed their winning cards down, smirking at his face, mans had to know them better

Probably made them his companion for the night, asking them if they’d come back to see him and of course they said yes

They kept this little thing between them for a while actually, until Hyuga wanted them around often, feeling a lack of excitement without them

And that’s how his s/o met Daruma properly: beating them at Poker

“Hyuga, I dunno where you found this person, but this is just embarrassing for Daruma.” Ukyo groaned, accepting his defeat and dropping his cards.

“You guys are just really bad at this, I thought you had experience?” y/n mocked, watching another member stare at their cards intensely. Hyuga’s arm remained wrapped around y/n’s waist, firmly keeping them on his lap while they played.

“No, you’re cheating!” Sakyo hissed, pointing a finger at them. Y/n shrugged, taking their turn and hearing another guy wail.

“Bold statement to make about Norihisa’s s/o, don’t you think?”

“You’re a monster!” Sakyo watched another Daruma lackey lose, y/n taking the chips for themselves.

ɪᴄᴇ

This guy is a festival attendee and a chronic one at that

So, he met his s/o at one of those when chasing them around the world

Gives me the vibes that his personality with music and destroying SWORD are complete opposites so when s/o bumped into him in the crowd, he happily vibed with them

Ended up eating together and finding out they were also festival chasing and decided that they’d attend as many as they could together, talking in between until eventually calling themselves a couple

Ice didn’t tell y/n about Might Warriors until later, he wanted to surprise them with a club they could properly find refuge in

 He also didn’t tell MW about s/o, bc it never came up mainly

Ice I’ll come find you y/n How will you do that? Ice Baby I can spot you in any crowd

With strobe lights flashing, bodies dancing in all directions and music so loud the floor vibrated, y/n’s head was in no other place but bliss. Ice’s pride and joy surged through their veins as they relished in his dream.

Their thoughts were pulled back to earth as the familiar sound of a beat Ice had shown them months prior blared through the speakers, swaying their hips shamelessly to the rhythm. Large hands caressed their hips, pulling them into a firm chest and hot breath making the hairs on their neck stand on end.

“Told you I could spot you in any crowd.” Ice mumbled and they felt his smirk through his words. Spinning around to face him, y/n’s arms wrapped around his neck.

“Never doubted that,” they smiled, eyes flickering between his and his lips, “I’m gonna be expecting VIP access.”

“You had it by default, baby.” He laughed, capturing them into a sweet kiss.

“Hate to ruin the moment, but who the fuck is this?” A voice yelled over the music, breaking the two apart.

“Jesse! This is my s/o, y/n! They're kinda one of us but also not.” Ice replied. Y/n didn’t care whether they were a Mighty Warrior or not, they were Ice’s and that’s all they needed. Jesse’s glare softened and morphed into a nod of approval before slipping through the crowd to the VIP lounge.

H&L harem (if you wanna be tagged/removed in future H&L content, comment or lemme know via ‘chat to me bbygorl’ :D);

@straysugzhpe @airbendertendou @strxwberrychocolate @rouzuchan @yuken-gf @rinwhore @simpforchuchu @thatpoindexterpixy @rainisawriter @cheshirecatuniverse @certainbananacollectionblr @tiredlittlewriter

[Masterlist]

[Requests CLOSED]

2023 © STAR2FISHMEG All rights reserved - do not plagiarise, translate, repost, copy any of my works. If you notice that any of these have been done to my work, please let me know.

#high&low x reader #high&low #high and low #high&low the worst #highandlow #oya high #sannoh hoodlum squad #sannoh rengokai #cobra x reader #h&l cobra #high&low cobra #high&low rocky x reader #rocky x reader #white rascals #murayama yoshiki x reader #oya kou #murayama yoshiki #rude boys x reader #high&low rude boys #high&low smokey #daruma #daruma ikka #hyuga norihisa #norihisa hyuga x reader #mighty warriors #ice x reader #mighty warriors ice #high&low mighty warriors #high&low ice

[waywardserpent176389053]

Natsuki's Doki Doki Panic Chapter Two

Here is the second chapter, this time with editing provided by the talented @nursepunkdreams.

Circling Darkness

At first, Natsuki could only feel the throbbing of her heart. It was hummingbird fast, uncountable, and as tentative as the slight beat of their wings.

And it hurt. God, did it hurt. As though someone had sunk several needles into her chest and her heart was being forced to contract around them.

But that wasn’t quite right. Her other senses trickled in one after another. More pain. The soft hiss of compressed air; something strapped to her face, and a scattering of smaller somethings attached to her chest. A shrill, rapid beeping…

She winced. She was in motion, for sure—whoever was driving had hit some rough road. She tensed and tried to focus on something else.

Natsuki finally opened her eyes. She recognized the interior of an ambulance right away and tried to take it all in. An intravenous line snaked into her arm, and a dozen EKG electrodes covered her naked chest. A green mask fitted around her face fogged with her every breath.

Her vision wouldn’t quite focus, no matter how much she willed it to, and her thoughts didn’t fare much better. The whats, the whys, the hows of everything—it all escaped her.

“Hey there.” The paramedic noticed her wandering eyes. He gently touched the side of her face to center her gaze on him. “You just rest, okay? You’ve been through a lot. We’ve got you.”

She wanted to demand some answers, but was distracted by someone touching her shoulder. It looked like…

“It’s okay. I’m here too,” Monika reassured her in a soft tone. She watched worriedly as the other paramedic inched his stethoscope around her chest. “You fainted in the club room… so we’re just going to the hospital for a checkup. That’s all.” She placed her hand in Natsuki’s.

The paramedic let out a short sigh when he finished his examination and replaced the instrument around his neck.

“Still tachy. ETA?” He called out to the front.

“A minute, if that.”

Natsuki allowed herself to take some relief in that. The hospital would fix everything, right?

“Ah—” Her breath caught with a particularly painful spasm of her heart. The patient monitor sounded off with a new alarm as the spasms continued, and her hopes began to wane.

“She’s throwing some strong PVCs,” the paramedic said. He looked concerned scanning the monitor’s readout. “Hanging out around 180—pulse ox is dropping…”

Natsuki didn’t understand what the words meant. She looked to Monika for context and found her looking down at her, tense with worry—even more so than before.

That couldn’t be good.

“We’re here,” Monika gently relayed the information to her with a hand on her face. “I’ll be close by, okay…?”

She barely registered what she had said. There was a bit of jostling, some fussing by some unseen hands and the voices attached to them; the panel lights flashing overhead… but all she could focus on was her heart, beating out of control. It skipped and stuttered along in double-time, threatening to give out…

Then she came to a stop. She thought she glimpsed a sign that said ‘Cardiac Care Unit’, but she didn’t have time to think about it further. Suddenly her body was aloft, and then manhandled into position on a new bed. On every side, people were a blur of activity and an indiscernible torrent of medical jargon she couldn't hope to understand.

“Hi there Natsuki, are you with us?” One of her attendants spoke loudly and clearly, but still with a reassuring lilt. She waved her hand in front of her face. “There you are. You’re at the hospital, okay? Your heartbeat is very irregular, and we need to give it a little jolt to get it back to normal…”

She continued talking, explaining, but the words faded. On her opposite side, another medic was readying a defibrillator. She’d seen them, in movies, of course—but never in real life. The heavy capacitors were placed on her chest: one under her collarbone and the other under her breast. The team stepped back, and the man holding the paddles shot her a sympathetic look.

The shock was sharp and sudden, so much so that she hardly grasped that it had happened at all. She gasped, the trace read flat, and she became hyper aware of her heart. For a second, she was able to trace every part of her rebellious cardiac organ. Every blood vessel, valve, nerve, all of it; as though she could view it in a three-dimension space…

Then the muscle contracted. Once more, blood rushed to the rest of her body. She started to hyperventilate. The sensation—the awareness—was overwhelming. The monitor continued to broadcast a rhythm that was far too rapid.

“No change—still v-tach…”

She braced for the worst. The twin capacitors settled onto her chest once more.

The second shock struck her. The muscles of her back tightened and thrust her body against the defibrillator paddles, as if trying to buck them off. Her heart clenched like a fist, the electricity forcing a contraction. She slumped back onto the bed and her heart relaxed, still for a moment, then one beat… another…

No third beat. Natsuki’s heart, tired from all it had been through, merely twitched and spasmed.

She felt like she was sinking. The action around her grew more frantic—one medic rushed forward to compress her chest, another grabbed a bag-valve mask as her breath fled her lungs in a drawn out wheeze.

Her vision frayed into darkness at its edges. She feared the worst, but…

She could still see.

A medic frantically worked her chest, caving her ribs with every shove. Another tore off her mask and replaced it with the bag valve. She squeezed the bulb fast and steady, raising her chest with each repetition. It brought an ache in her ribs to her attention, and she found herself with the wherewithal to wonder if it was broken. Having barely finished her thought, she also noticed the pain of her ordeal was rapidly subsiding.

This is so embarrassing… Natsuki thought when her head was a little clearer. She hadn’t bared her chest for anyone in recent memory, but now a whole half dozen—or more—got to behold her pathetic body. She could feel her small breasts jiggling with each thrust, and going by what parts of her body felt clothed… she was only wearing her pink panties and white socks.

Natsuki thought she might expire fully right then and there.

She was reminded of the gravity of her situation then. She was fucking dying.

No… no! Not like this! She couldn’t reconcile with it. Her life had been utterly terrible for so long—it was only just getting good. She had a nice place to live! A crush on a cute girl! And she most certainly did not deserve to die from a sudden heart attack. She still needed to graduate, start a bakery… have sex at least once—not put into a casket at the ripe old age of fucking eighteen.

The compressions stopped, and the defibrillator was placed against her once more.

Please work, Natsuki begged. The current rippled through her and arched her back. Her jaw clenched, and for a second, all she saw was light. It rapidly gave way to darkness.

The void lingered just long enough to make her think this might be it. But she realized—she could still think, and then, she heard the noises around her. They were muffled, as though coming from the next room over, but enough for her to cling to for dear life. There was an alarm—shrill, persistent; a backdrop against the desperate voices of the team working her code.

She became aware of the compressions resuming next—suddenly acutely aware of her ribs being forced down; of her sternum pushing into her heart. The weight moved the arrested muscle down, stopped only by her spine; her ribs growing more pliable and fragile by the second. Beneath her chest wall, the organ was squeezed like a rubber ball; the valves within forced open as the blood was ejected. She could feel it—the blood pushed through the hungry arteries… and could discern, somehow, that it wasn’t nearly as effective as her heart beating normally. Between each thrust, her heart would swell as the blood rushed back.

All of this, in less than a second. But time dilated beyond all meaning now. The artificial rhythm continued at pace, and Natsuki felt the cadence with exacting clarity. Her heart continued to twitch. It reminded her of a plate of gelatin being shaken.

It occurred to her then—she hadn’t really considered her cardiac health all that much. Sure, she’d been a bit worried about it recently, but she didn’t think about it as a distinct part of her. She supposed she’d abstracted it somewhat—it having took on the appearance of a classic cartoon heart in her mind's eye, rather than the complicated mass of muscle it actually was.

Natsuki tried to give herself a shake. The present moment was far more pressing than this weird little detour her mind had taken… she needed that heart to beat again.

The compressions let up and air flooded her lungs. She relished the feeling. Breathing was good…

More of that, please…

She was met with more compressions. It would have been a relaxing cycle, if not for the mortal terror of it all.

Attempting to shift her mind elsewhere, she thought of her heart again. She could feel it so clearly, after all… perhaps she could figure out what the hell was wrong with it. She imagined turning it over in her hands, looking for anything amiss.

Her mouth being forced open broke her train of thought.

Oh… that’s kind of unpleasant… she thought dreamily as the endotracheal tube was guided down her throat. She wanted to gag, but didn’t, and when air came again at last, it inflated her lungs even more than before.

Alright, tube… I forgive you, Natsuki thought, still dazed. She allowed herself to luxuriate in the newfound oxygen and expected the cycle to resume, but it didn’t—instead of the hands ramming her heart, she felt two familiar weights against her chest.

Natsuki steeled herself as best she could.

Please, shocky things… please work—

The defibrillation forced her eyes open for a moment. Her heart, as with every shock before, locked up and ceased its twitching. She could see her chest arching against the paddles; the large, ugly bruise that had settled between her breasts; the breathing tube taped in place at her lips, and the many medics desperately trying to save her.

Maybe she was imagining things, but… she thought they didn’t look particularly hopeful. Her organ had stilled. There was an agonal contraction after a long pause, and then it started quivering again.

Natsuki groaned. The shock had hurt like hell. And not only that, but it had failed to revive her. At the very least… the pain was evidence she was still alive. It had to be. She tried to recenter herself, but—

They must have increased the voltage. The electricity snaked through her muscles, pulling each one taut as the current leaped from one paddle to the other. Her spine bowed and her heart seized with the current. She could trace the individual nerves of the organ as they fired all at once, the muscles at their end squeezing with as much strength as they could spare. Then—as before—it relaxed and returned to spasming.

Natsuki was getting a little frustrated now. Weren’t they supposed to call out ‘clear’ or something? A little more warning would be nice…

The compressions returned, and she began to riddle over her fibrillating organ once more. There must be an issue with her nerves—they were still sending out signals, but not the right ones. That must be why her heart was shaking instead of contracting. She traced her own cardiac nerves, trying to find which ones weren’t working, not sure what she would do if she found the right one…

The paddles were placed around her heart again.

Okay… gotta focus, she thought, with newfound determination. When the shock comes, I gotta force that nerve to—

The defibrillation rocked her body. Her heart contracted; its electrical signals scrambled. Natsuki traced the current…

There!

At the top of her heart, there was an entire cluster of nerves firing all at once from the external current. One of those nerves stood out to her, and even though she couldn’t tell how… she knew that was the one.

The charge dissipated, and her heart fell still. It stayed still.

The sinking feeling from earlier came back tenfold and Natsuki fought hard to keep her head above water. She was suddenly so cold, and the sounds from outside grew ever indistinct. She could only just barely make out the team’s voices…

“Asystole…!” One attendant shouted.

“Losing her!” She heard another cry.

The sensation of the chest compressions returned to her, but numb and distant.

Her life flashed before her eyes. Memories from the early days, when her mom was still around… those fleeting peaceful moment between the shouting matches and slamming doors. She hadn’t taken Natsuki with her, when she left—and she’d always blamed herself for that.

She was a pitiful child, after all. There were the years where she barely had any friends—thin and destitute, scrounging around for whatever food that man left for her—never enough to fill her. She was reminded of learning to bake, so she wouldn’t starve over summer break, and the comics she gorged herself on to give her any sense of hope.

More recent images flashed before her. Like joining the Literature Club and meeting all of her new friends.

That man being arrested, freeing her at last.

Planning for college. Baking new things—not for survival, but for fun.

All of it so recent. And so, so short.

Natsuki suddenly saw that all she would amount to would be a girl who never got the chance to really live—who got only the smallest taste of a good life before it was cruelly snatched away.

The darkness boiled around her; the cold threatening to consume her.

No!

She was not going to die!

Natsuki desperately thrashed against the death that surrounded her. She could still feel her body—the chest compressions, the air pumped to her lungs; the faint sounds of the efforts to revive her. She pushed upward, as if swimming towards the surface of an endless lake.

Natsuki had spent years reading manga. She tended toward slice of life and comedy—stories of girls just hanging out and having a good time, but she had read a bit of everything. Horror, romance, erotica, dramas, sometimes even action/adventure, if she was feeling a bit bored of her usual fare.

She envisioned herself as the protagonists of one of these adventures. Downtrodden, bloody—but standing up and defying the odds nonetheless. The second wind was coming.

She was going to survive this.

In her mind’s eye, she wrestled with her heart; begged it function. She pleaded and coaxed, and then, she was overwhelmed by an awful, acidic burning sensation in her veins. It moved closer to her heart with each press on her sternum, and she felt sick about it, but she knew it was likely the doctors still trying to save her and tolerated it as best she could.

The drugs soon arrived at her cardiac center. Nerves, once quiet, began to fire again. Slowly at first, then swiftly gaining speed—before long, the muscles attached returned to their unconditioned shaking.

Yes! Natsuki reveled in her triumph, even though it was largely the drugs that had done the heavy lifting.

Come on! Hit me again, shocky things!

As though the team could hear her, the weights of the paddles were promptly settled onto her chest again. Natsuki readied herself, but her timing was off. The fibrillation continued, and she prepared for the next jolt.

Three, two, one…

Another current rolled through her and she rode along it, pouring every ounce of her will into forcing her heart to beat once more. The cardiac muscles tightened, then relaxed, then remained still.

The darkness swirled around her. Natsuki clung to the light.

That was supposed to work, damn it!

Time was dilating again, and the creeping coldness settling in was fogging her mind. The distance between the compressions and voices stretched on further and further, as though she were adrift at sea, being pulled further and further away by the unforgiving yet undeniably gentle tide…

She felt more acidic drugs pouring into her veins and thought—for a scant moment—that her heart would react and start spasming again. But the organ did not respond. The voices of the medics cut in and out, hazy; painfully indistinct. Despite her senses failing, she still picked up the droning cry of the monitor, a flatline certainly running across it. In her altered state, it signaled to her that there was some great, terrible predator stalking around her, waiting to take her into dissolution.

My name… she thought desperately. It’s… my name is Natsuki. I like good manga, cute things… and baking! She tightened her focus. And… I love my friends, Monika, Sayori, and Yuri. God, Yuri… if I live for anyone, it’ll be for you!

She held onto this thought loop for dear life. A shield against the tide, against the cold, against the predator stalking near… if she could just hold onto herself… her friends…

Something changed. It was hard for her to focus on other things, but this was different. The compressions had stopped, but her heart wasn’t twitching. The asystole alarm continued, although distorted, as if she was hearing it underwater.

Oh… they gave up… she thought, despondent.

After all that, despite everything, her time was up.

The immense void moved in.

Yuri…!

She was numb, completely and utterly, but… there was no doubting it. She was being cut open. She struggled to remember why that might be happening.

Was she… dead? Was this a morgue; an autopsy? Something cold forced her ribs apart, snapping them like twigs.

That hurt. That hurt!

She remembered the names of her beloved friends and focused on the pain.

If I can still feel pain… then I must be… still alive…

Something new invaded her chest. They wrapped around her heart and squeezed. Hands, maybe. Blood shot through her arteries.

Natsuki rallied.

They haven’t given up! They’re still trying!

Her mind was scattered, but she tried to focus. She centered her attention on her stubborn heart.

Come on… work! Do something!

More drugs. It all felt so terrible, but she grit her teeth and didn’t dare break her focus.

A flutter. Then another, then her whole heart was thick with fibrillation once more. She could feel it so clearly; it was injured, weakened from its ordeal. The repeated shocks, the drugs, the lack of oxygen… and something deeper.

Some small thing that had always been there.

Natsuki lacked the vocabulary for it, but she knew, more than anything, it was the root cause. It wasn’t her nerves misfiring for seemingly no reason—it was this. This little thing she didn’t have a name for.

This flaw.

Small metal discs were placed against her heart.

Mini shocky things… she thought hazily. She knew she didn’t have much fight left. The creature stalked, just outside her perception, she knew—waiting for her to slip up.

Wait for the right—

Her heart was the sun as the charge smashed into it. Even though the capacitors were smaller, it was many, many times more intense.

Natsuki shook it off and readied herself. Her heart continued to shake meaninglessly.

Heh… rule of threes, she thought wryly. It’s now or never…!

The third hit. As her nerves sparked and fired; as the cardiac muscles clinched; as blood sloshed forward from the artificial beat—Natsuki took hold of one thought and bent all her will towards its success. She screamed it, howled it, bellowed it:

BEAT!!!

The heart relaxed as the charge dissipated. It was still.

Then, a nerve fired. Others followed. The muscle contracted—dared to contract.

And again. Then it stumbled, but caught itself.

Ba-dup… ba-dup… ba-dup…

If she could, Natsuki would have collapsed out of sheer relief.

She’d lived. She’d fucking lived.

She knew that her heart was still in poor shape; that she wasn’t out of the woods just yet. But that didn’t matter.

For now, she was alive. The rest could come later.

A new darkness rose around her, a friendlier one—a blanket of simple unconsciousness. She took the offer; she was exhausted in her bones. Her friends' faces rushed past her; she’d kept them. Held on so tight. Let them guide her back to the world of the living.

“I’ll see you soon, okay…?” she murmured, too quiet and indistinct for anyone to hear.

Her heart continued to beat. It was battered… and Natsuki knew, deep down, than it wouldn’t last much longer in the grand scheme of things. But for now, it would fulfill its function. Softly, as if exhausted itself, it beat.

And Natsuki lived.

#resus #cardiophile #cardiophilia #heartbeat #female resus #female heartbeat #storytelling #defib #female defib #cpr #resus writing

[italofobia]

#hyperspecific poll #my life is kind of miserable i tried to make it not too depressing #watch how the long haired men option is going to sweep lmao

[odditycircus-2002]

Mortal Kombat 1 Intros Part III

THE VOTES HAVE SPOKEN! I hope y’all enjoy this, and don’t forget to like, reblog, and or comment! I do love hearing y’all’s thoughts and suggestions! 😁😁😁Featuring Medusa!Reader. If you want to see the others, click one of these

Batch1

Batch2

Quan-Chi

Quan-chi patronizing: It must enrage you that you couldn't have finished me.

Y/N hissing: If it weren't for Li Mei's jussstice, I would've had your ssspine by now!

/

Quan-chi disgusted: Why do you pine for a diseased cretin over Shang Tsung?

Y/N: Because that sssnake is below my standards, now.

/

Quan-Chi: You were Shang Tsung's wife, yet Lui Kang has gifted you a better life than either Shang and I!

Y/N: Everything I have earned in life, I have earned by my handssss and my hands alone.

/

Y/N coyly: I have to thank you for adding some spice to my meal.

Quan-Chi taken aback: That poison I slipped into your stew was enough to kill a full-grown taigore!

/

Y/N: Tch, what's good is relying heavily on your magic if a single gaze is enough to stop you in place?

Quan-chi smirks: It's fortunate then that I know how to avoid your gaze then.

/

Y/N narrows her eyes: It's bad enough that Shang Tsung knows its secrets!

Quan-Chi: Whether or not you do so willingly, I will learn witch.

/

Quan-chi: I hope your infatuation with Y/N won't put a wench in our partnership

Shang Tsung chuckles: Are we feeling a touch envious, Quan-chi?

Reiko

Y/N: I remember bandaging the bloodied boy Shao took into camp.

Reiko: I am not that boy no longer, Healer! /

Y/N: You're fortunate it was Li Mei who apprehended you, otherwise there'd be nothing to throw in Lei Chin.

Reiko: *Barks out a laugh* HA! I just need to blind you to beat you!

/

Y/N: You are no warrior but a mindlesssss blood-hungry brute, I would know.

Reiko scoffs: As if a Healer would know anything about what a true warrior is.

/

Y/N smirking: It's a shame that I couldn't have kept you in the Hanging Gardens.

Reiko growling: Care to try so again, witch?!

/

Reiko: You have forgotten your oath to Outworld!

Y/N: How is not wanting to see the Empire fall to the disease that is war, breaking my Healer's oath?

/

Reiko: The lieutenants' illness... *growls* Have you no honor?!

Y/N darkly: Not towards traitorsss of the throne.

/

Reiko: It's a shame that we could not have recruited you to the cause.

Y/N with her snakes writhing in anger: *Hisses* As if I would align myself with the brutes that would encourage Sssshang Tsung's depravity!

Tanya

Tanya: You have truly chosen better than that traitorous Sorcerer.

Y/N sighs in exasperation: I'll have to talk with Mileena about spreading rumors about my love life.

/

Tanya: You have a sister among the Umgadi?

Y/N rolls her eyes: I only know this since my mother would never ssshut up about it.

/

Tanya astonished: Shang Tsung did what to you?!

Y/N hisses at the memory: It's because I got too close to learning of hisss real laboratory.

/

Y/N: I hope you aren't the reason why Mileena missed her mandatory meditative practices today.

Tanya: I was told by her that you canceled them for the day!

/

Y/N: It is difficult, to love someone afflicted with Tarkat and watch them suffer.

Tanya: If Mileena and I can overcome these obstacles despite the risks, so can you and Baraka.

/

Y/N: I am happy to report that most of your Umgadi sisters will make a full recovery.

Tanya: It's still regrettable to lose any of my sisters, but I am happy to hear that.

/

Y/N: Did you really think I would betray the Throne?

Tanya: Honestly, there was so much deceit and conspiracies going around, I wasn't sure.

Ermac

Ermac: Neither Jerrod nor Sindel hold you at fault for their deaths.

Y/N in surprise: I- Uh um... Thank you, Ermac.

/

Ermac: Can you aid us?

Y/N: I haven't learned the same magic as Quan-chi, but I has picked up a spell or two on Shang Tsung's island.

/

Ermac: We apologize, but the answer is still no.

Y/N angrily: You're the one who freed Quan-chi in the firssst place! The least you can do is return to the palace!

/

Y/N: Why not inform Mileena instead of freeing Quan-chi?!

Ermac: We were not sure she could have ensured our continued existence

/

Y/N: If you wish to reside in the Colony, then I'll need some assurance that you won't kill my patients.

Ermac: We understand, but you just have to trust our word.

/

Y/N narrowed her eyes in suspicion: I was told by Ashrah, you nearly killed Baraka and Syzoth.

Ermac: That is not Us anymore, Y/N.

/

Y/N: How is the Collection today, Ermac?

Ermac: Thanks to your remedies, We feel more... stable.

Nitara

Nitara mockingly: Having seen your Titan self, I wonder what it says about you?

Y/N hisses: I am nothing like her!

/

Nitara: Your blood tastes like a Vaeterunian's!

Y/N angrily: Of course, Shang Tsung would think to make me monstrousss just to ssspite me!

/

Nitara: My blood magic is superior to your water magic.

Y/N: It'll do you no good once I have you choking on your own blood.

/

Y/N: Care for another demonstration on whose bite is deadlier?

Nitara: You have to actually catch me to bite me.

/

Y/N: Not till death will I ever stop fighting for my home!

Nitara: Why do you think I fight for Vaeterunus?!

/

Y/N: Even just hearing your voice sends disgussst down my spine

Nitara: The disgust is mutual even with your mask on.

/

Y/N snakes out and ready to bite: The fact that you aided that sssnake!

Nitara: A mistake and waste of time, I'll admit.

Peacemaker

Peacemaker: So how do you and that Baraka guy bump uglies? Considering how you're both-

Y/N vexated and flustered: That is NONE of your concern!

/

Peacemaker: The bleeding is mostly internal which is where most of the blood is supposed to be anyway, right?

Y/N internally screaming: That is NOT at all how it worksss!!!

/

Peacemaker: What the FUCK happened to your face?!

Y/N: A sssnake named, Shang Tsung. That's what.

/

Y/N: While I might not always agree with her, I trust Li Mei's judgment.

Peacemaker: Yet, it would've been easier if she just killed those wizard fucks!

/

Y/N: Those herbs you gave me are pretty weak.

Peacemaker: How? I gave ya the best kush I got!

/

Y/N: I can heal much of the body, but an addled mind isn't one of them

Peacemaker: If you think I'M insane, you should see the crazies in Arkham!

/

Y/N: How in the 10 hells are you still breathing?!?

Peacemaker: I honestly have no fucking clue.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #mk x reader #mortal kombat 1 #Ermac #mk reiko #Quan-chi #Peacemaker #Nitara #Tanya #tanya mk #Oddball writes #mk #mk 1 #mk1 2023 #Mortal Kombat intros #mk intros